As early as February 1939, Admiral Hugh Sinclair, the head of the British secret service, claimed that the alarming rumors of the coming war were only being spread by Jews and communists for purposes known only to them. The opinion of a man who, by virtue of his function, should be the best-informed person in the British Empire was quite disturbing. Nazi Germany has done much to convince Europe and the world of its aggressive intentions, documenting them not only with slogans but above all with clear-cut actions. Perhaps the Admiral’s statement should have been seen as an expression of the loyalty of a well-trained official to his chief executive… Didn’t Chamberlain declare on his return from Munich that he was bringing peace to our times? On the other hand, it didn’t take a subtle intelligence game to observe the rapid growth of the power of the German armed forces—Goebbels’ propaganda machine itself made sure that the world learned about the power of the German army and freshly built air service. Perhaps Sinclair thought that if every army created in history were to find practical employment, humanity would still live in caves? Such a thought should, however, be accompanied by a reflection that if every treaty signed in the history of mankind had been kept, armies would have turned out to be merely an expensive extravagance. Fortunately, the Admiral did not draw too far-reaching conclusions from his misguided opinion, and his practical actions seemed to be based on the opposite assumption. Remembering the unexpected expansion of “Room 40” in the early phase of the First World War, he sought for its modern equivalent a seat capable of meeting the challenges of modern conflict. The psychosis of the air war that prevailed in the UK led to the search for a location outside London, which in the event of a war was to become the target of the enemy’s devastating air raids. Sinclair has found a convenient location less than a hundred kilometers north-west of London, near the Bletchley railway junction. Between 1882 and 1883 Sir Herbert Samuel Leon built a complex of buildings there, located in a vast park. After his death in 1926, the estate was managed by Leon’s widow, Fanny. When she too died in 1937, her son, Sir George Leon, decided to sell the whole estate. Originally, the buyer was to be a local building trust, which planned to divide the property into smaller plots and sell them separately. When Admiral Sinclair’s advisors were looking for a war seat for GC&CS, the buyers were preparing to demolish the mansion forming the center of the estate.

Transfusion of Hope

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发表日期：

2025年

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Marek Grajek

摘要

As early as February 1939, Admiral Hugh Sinclair, the head of the British secret service, claimed that the alarming rumors of the coming war were only being spread by Jews and communists for purposes known only to them. The opinion of a man who, by virtue of his function, should be the best-informed person in the British Empire was quite disturbing. Nazi Germany has done much to convince Europe and the world of its aggressive intentions, documenting them not only with slogans but above all with clear-cut actions. Perhaps the Admiral’s statement should have been seen as an expression of the loyalty of a well-trained official to his chief executive… Didn’t Chamberlain declare on his return from Munich that he was bringing peace to our times? On the other hand, it didn’t take a subtle intelligence game to observe the rapid growth of the power of the German armed forces—Goebbels’ propaganda machine itself made sure that the world learned about the power of the German army and freshly built air service. Perhaps Sinclair thought that if every army created in history were to find practical employment, humanity would still live in caves? Such a thought should, however, be accompanied by a reflection that if every treaty signed in the history of mankind had been kept, armies would have turned out to be merely an expensive extravagance. Fortunately, the Admiral did not draw too far-reaching conclusions from his misguided opinion, and his practical actions seemed to be based on the opposite assumption. Remembering the unexpected expansion of “Room 40” in the early phase of the First World War, he sought for its modern equivalent a seat capable of meeting the challenges of modern conflict. The psychosis of the air war that prevailed in the UK led to the search for a location outside London, which in the event of a war was to become the target of the enemy’s devastating air raids. Sinclair has found a convenient location less than a hundred kilometers north-west of London, near the Bletchley railway junction. Between 1882 and 1883 Sir Herbert Samuel Leon built a complex of buildings there, located in a vast park. After his death in 1926, the estate was managed by Leon’s widow, Fanny. When she too died in 1937, her son, Sir George Leon, decided to sell the whole estate. Originally, the buyer was to be a local building trust, which planned to divide the property into smaller plots and sell them separately. When Admiral Sinclair’s advisors were looking for a war seat for GC&CS, the buyers were preparing to demolish the mansion forming the center of the estate.