Siege Tactics in Commons

Cried Tory M.P. Robert Boothby at a public meeting in Surrey last week: "We shall harry the life out of [the Socialists]

. . We will make it absolutely intolerable for them We will make them sit up night and day and grind away until they get absolutely hysterical and say we cannot stand any more.' "

As a sample, the Tories kept the House of Commons in session on four of last week's five sitting days until 1:46 a.m., 2:44 a.m., 1:33 a.m., and 1:53 a.m. Weary, angry Socialists had to stand by steadfastly, not knowing when the Tories would demand a vote. The Tories organized their M.P.s into squads of 50, moved them into the chamber in relays, rested them in smoke rooms and bars, marshaled their total strength only when they intended to force a division. "It's a war of attrition," complained one Socialist sufferer.

Parliament convenes each day at 2:30 p.m. From 9:30 a.m. until lunchtime most M.P.s are engaged with private business or parliamentary committee work. Last week's struggle gave them a 16-hour working day.

The late nights were tougher on the Socialists. Most Tories have rooms or small apartments near Westminster, but many Socialists must travel considerable distances to their homes or sleep sitting up in chairs until the next session.

"Keep Your Heads." Socialist tempers frayed quickly, but the brunt of the Tory tactics was borne by a Tory, Clifton Brown, 71, for eight years the icily impartial speaker of the House. Once the hubbub grew so loud that Mr. Speaker regained control only by bellowing: "It's quite impossible for me to know what anyone is saying." To Winston Churchill he said: "We are getting very excited . . . Perhaps that is exactly what the Right Honorable gentleman likes to see." Brown weathered the rowdy week, then collapsed from exhaustion, sent word he would be absent until after Easter. Parliament's catering staff, messengers and policemen, also worn to a frazzle, sent a deputation to Chuter Ede, leader of the House. They complained that they got only 15 hours sleep the whole week, asked for relief.

Prime Minister Clement Attlee, striving to stave off an election until fall (when home killings of meat may have upped the ration and the coal shortage may be eased), tried to rally his men. "Keep your heads," he told a meeting of Labor M.P.s. "Restrain yourselves. Have patience. We shall not yield."

Attlee promised that the government would devise means of defeating the Tories' "knavish tricks," possibly by beginning the daily sitting at 11 a.m. instead of 2:30 p.m. The Tories would dislike this because many are lawyers and businessmen with morning engagements.

Copyright Infringed? Attlee, strained by weeks of stormy parliamentary sessions, is entering a hospital over the Easter recess for a checkup on his 1948 duodenal ulcer, which lately has given signs of returning.

At week's end, Churchill made a radio appeal for "a broad-based government resting on a clear and strong majority." Said Churchill: "The more it is plain that [the Laborites] have lost the confidence of the nation, the more obstinately and desperately they cling to their offices on the chance that something will turn up."' The Tory leader said in passing that he resented Stalin's recent description of Attlee as a warmonger. "I thought this was quite untrue," he said. "It was also unfair because this word warmonger was the one that Mr. Attlee's friends and followers were hoping to fasten on me whenever an election comes. Stalin has, therefore, been guilty not only of an untruth but of infringement of copyright."

With or without title to the name "warmonger," Old Warhorse Churchill wanted an election as quickly as possible--and he was trying to force one by means that appeared not quite cricket to some Britons. Frank Byers, chairman of the Liberal Party (which shocks easily), was shocked. Said he: "A responsible Opposition would not seek to ruin the health of the members of the Government."

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