But for the grace of Roosevelt

Franklin Roosevelt could have chosen better words than “Trust me to the bitter end” in saying goodbye to Winston Churchill at the end of their Arcadia conference in Washington on January 14, 1942. Taken literally, the send-off communicated a dismal final act for the British nation. Of course, the president intended to convey that England could count on the United States to stand by its side through thick and thin. Still, might these words have been a Freudian slip; might FDR have envisioned a British collapse in the face of arguably the mightiest war machine ever assembled?

In mid-June 1942, this gloomy outcome was still a very real possibility for Great Britain. Despite Churchill’s victory jig when Hitler drew the United States into the fray seven months earlier, events since suggested that a mourner’s shuffle would have been more appropriate. British defenders in Hong Kong, crown jewel Singapore and Burma had surrendered to superior Japanese forces, and Rommel was gaining ground in North Africa once more. More to the point, the security of the vital U.S. lifeline Britain had gained in the Battle of the Atlantic was lost in a one-two punch of a revamped German Enigma that foiled British codebreaking followed by a Kriegsmarine cracking of the British cipher. The balance of power on the high seas suddenly shifted, Britain once again stood in peril. With its umbilical cord to America choked, how much longer could it hold?

The news got worse as Churchill continued a third conclave (code named ARGONAUT) with Roosevelt, at the latter’s family estate at Hyde Park and in Washington, on June 21. Sitting with the president in his White House study, the PM learned that Rommel had taken the Libyan port Tobruk, strategic to German plans to take Egypt and control the Suez Mideast oil conduit (indeed, the whole Mideast), in a stunning victory requiring half the forces of his British opponent. Churchill reeled in shock and dismay. Not only had Britain been dealt the loss of a crucial crossroad, but the defeat perpetuated the long losing streak that already had many wondering about Britain’s capacity to win a battle, nevertheless a war. Churchill looked at the president in shame and humiliation, feeling like Mussolini to Roosevelt’s “Hitler.” He wondered if the president numbered among the skeptics.

If he did, Roosevelt showed no indication. “What can we do to help?” the president asked, signaling a vote of confidence and betraying a caring side he preferred to keep under wraps. According to General Alan Brooke, the British Chiefs of Staff chairman present at the announcement, FDR showed “heartfelt sympathy” for Churchill at news of the devastating setback. How much longer he would feel compassion for his reeling friend or continue to help his country were questions of speculation. However, for now he would do both. Calling for General George Marshall, U.S. Army chief of staff, he signaled his sympathy and support with an order that a precious 300 Sherman tanks and 100 self-propelled howitzers be sent to the British Eighth Army for a retake of Tobruk.

Military analysts have credited the weaponry Roosevelt pledged as important in the recapture of Tobruk and decisive victory at El Alamein that preceded it. However, the expert analyses don’t discuss a possibly more important effect his commitment had upon the war. News of the disaster at Tobruk knocked Churchill to the canvas. “I am ashamed,” he inconsolably confided to his personal physician, Lord Moran. In such a blue state, feeling personally responsible for a disgraceful loss, Churchill was as vulnerable as he had ever been over a lifetime of crises. Beset with self-doubt, a cross word from anyone at that moment would have set the PM back on his heels. But condemnation from Roosevelt, one of the few men in the world whose opinion of him mattered, would have taken the wind out of him. Imagine, then, what might have happened if Tobruk was the last straw in the president’s patience, and he had told Churchill he no longer believed Britain was up to snuff or, if it were, he was the man to lead it. Might not the bleeding prime minister have thrown in the towel and crawled out of the ring?

Fortunately, the president was a patient man. (Even after being wheelchair-bound for two decades, he still believed he would one day walk again.) But the Tobruk episode between Roosevelt and Churchill shows how one man’s reaction to a single event can change the history of the world. If FDR had viewed Tobruk as the straw that broke the camel’s back instead of as a bump in the road, what different paths might the war have taken? Without American support, would Rommel’s Afrika Corps have taken Alamein and pushed on to seize the Suez, staunching Britain’s oil supply and causing it to sue for peace? With its support of England withdrawn, would the United States have continued to support the Soviet Union, which it did mostly to take pressure of its Anglo ally? With a Churchill resignation, would an appeaser have taken the reins of government and persuaded the people that a fascist society wasn’t so bad? The possibilities are myriad, and most lead to a bleak outcome.

The Tobruk encounter elevated Roosevelt to a new stature in Churchill’s eyes. “Nothing could exceed [his] sympathy and chivalry,” he wrote in his war memoir The Hinge of Fate. FDR’s kind concern and show of support in one of his darkest hours were acts of greatness the PM would never forget. In a rare instance of deference, he concluded that the president was truly the great man of his time. This was high praise, indeed. Other than his sovereign, for whom his obsequiousness was merely ceremonial, the only other man Churchill ever bowed to was his idolized father, Lord Randolph, who rose to become secretary of state for India, chancellor of the exchequer and leader of the House of Commons during a brief life that ended just before his 46th birthday. With a justifiably lofty self-opinion, the man who exceeded his father’s accomplishments by becoming prime minister was never one to shy away from self-worship. “From his youth up, Mr. Churchill has loved with all his heart, soul, mind and strength three things: war, politics and himself,” said Harold Begbie, a British journalist famous for his dead-on character sketches.

The president’s desire to help was more than a show of faith in his new partner. It was part of a predilection to serve. A child of privilege, Roosevelt could have lived a life of ease, surrounded by wealth on family estates at Hyde Park and Campobello. Instead, he decided at Groton, the exclusive boarding school he attended in his teens, that he had an obligation to help the masses less fortunate than himself and the world at large. Now, at the nadir of the conflagration for the Allied cause, FDR saw an unparalleled opportunity to perform the greatest service the world had ever known. He would pull it from the fire and save it through his wise and resolute leadership. For this great cause he would give his life if need be. Little did he know that that indeed would turn out to be the price he paid.

After Roosevelt’s magnanimous response, Churchill’s regard ran so high that he most likely would have laid down his life for the man. That was a far cry from just a few days earlier, when he arrived at a New Hackensack airfield close to Hyde Park for a few days of informal discussions with the president. Rather than have him chauffeured to the estate, Roosevelt met Churchill in person, something he would have done for few others. Beyond his own act of deference, however, he wanted to show off his driving skills in his prized 1936 Ford Phaeton, a customized blue convertible that allowed him to accelerate and brake with hand levers instead of floor pedals.

After telling Churchill of the strength it took to operate the controls and coaxing him to feel his biceps to demonstrate he was up to the task, the president let out the clutch and proceeded to race along the grassy verges of Hudson River precipices. While Roosevelt took great pleasure in the consternation he was causing him, the PM recalled, he silently prayed with all his fervor that “the mechanical devices and brakes would show no defects” and fumed. How dare Roosevelt presume to risk my life to prove his virility. If I survive this madness, I shall never forgive him.

Two days later, however, he had.

Note: The day after their death-defying dash along the Hudson, Churchill proposed to Roosevelt that they ride together on another frantic drive: the race to beat Hitler in the development of the atomic bomb. Roosevelt agreed, and the two joined the U.S.’s nascent Manhattan Project with G.B.’s Tube Alloys program in an all-or-nothing bid to come up with the weapon scientists said promised victory to the side that crossed the finish line first.

Photo caption: Stogie in place (he smoked 20 a day), Churchill studies a memo while Roosevelt and Marie Norton Whitney Harriman, wife of top U.S. envoy W. Averell Harriman, chat on the veranda of Top Cottage, FDR’s Hyde Park hideaway. Roosevelt planned to retire to the retreat, leaving Eleanor the main residence they had shared for appearances only since the two took separate quarters in the wake of FDR’s affair with Lucy Mercer in the teens. The Roosevelts are reputed to have lived as man and wife in name only afterward, with FDR satisfying his libido with private secretary Marguerite “Missy” LeHand and others even after being stricken with polio.