From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 99)

If the British public felt that the Great War was disruptive to their way of life, I fear a riot when this latest show gets underway.

I am not referring to the enormous loss of life in the trenches. Dear God, a generation wiped out in a few short years. It changed the world. I doubt anyone can anticipate the casualties of this new war, but I carry the fervent hope that we will never see the like of those on the scale of the Great War again.

No, I am referring to the fact that, other than the absence of the younger men during the Great War, we had only a couple of Zeppelins attempt a few crude bombings of our homeland. The Women’s Institute began during the war. The jam making, cake baking, and hymn singing, supposedly to keep up the morale of the women left behind. The idea that, across our great nation, best cake competitions will be running in all the little parish churches’ summer fetes during this new round of slaughter is risible.

We will lose men. We will be bombed. We even face the possibility of invasion. To this diary only do I admit that fears of invasion are not misplaced. I already have evacuation plans in place for my agents and the very few people I feel an affection for.

I have been thinking today about how, when the bombs fall, when the fatalities rise, when streets collapse, can our British way of life hold firm? Of course, we will be issuing a lot of home propaganda. Much of it will be about how we can all join together to help each other. That will be issued regardless of the real situation. However, I do have faith in the British people. I believe most will show their better side in the conflict. A few will doubtless take advantage of the blackouts and chaos to steal, even to murder, but most folk will do their bit, one way or another. ‘Doing one’s bit’ is such a lovely phrase. It allows people, regardless of what they do, from sweeping platforms to brain surgery on the injured, to feel that ‘their bit’ helps. It’s an excellent maxim, and easy to propagate. It also feels reassuring.

Keeping the police visible is an important as having the ARP wardens on duty. The perception of continued order, no matter what, is paramount. It’s one of the reasons all the services have rankings. Come what may, know your place, know who you are responsible for, and do the goddammed job you’re trained to do. Decent training should make your work, from fireman to aircraft gunner, so instinctive you don’t need to think about it. In the same way, fear of your superior officer should keep you on your toes and lessen the chances of slacking, or heaven forbid, deserting. Deserters are awful for morale. On a human level, I understand the desire to get out of the madness of warfare, but as a commanding officer, I understand why it is that deserters are so often shot. War is a nasty business.

But even considering these aspects of British life, I do not yet feel I have reached the heart of what essential requirement the British Public need to feel that eventually all will be well. The order of law, and the order of rank must be held, but what does John or Jane Smith rely on? It can’t be bricks and mortar, as these may disappear in a cloud of bomb dust. Icons like St Pauls are also subject to bombing and resultant morale lows (although I suspect the enemy will leave St Pauls as a marker to navigate by).

What do all British people do in a crisis? What do they need?

Oh lord, when I put it like that, it is obvious.

In a crisis the British put the kettle on. The Great British Public needs their tea. If we can keep the tea supplies going and ensure that even if you’ve lost your home, there will be tea wagon for you to get your cuppa… then all will be well.

It’s what the empire ran on, after all. It’s what we will win this war doing – reassuring each other, doing our bit, and drinking tea. God help us.