Entertaining Ananda
The story of Britain’s bumbling efforts to win the loyalty of Thailand’s young king in the last months of his life
At quarter past eight in the morning on August 6, 1945, an American B-29 plane dropped an atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. The explosion wiped out 90 percent of the city and killed 80,000 people; tens of thousands more would later die of radiation exposure. Three days later, a second B-29 dropped another atomic bomb on Nagasaki, killing an estimated 40,000 people. Japan’s Emperor Hirohito announced his country’s unconditional surrender. The war in Asia between the British empire and their American allies against imperial Japan was over.
But the end of the war led to a new set of conflicts, with Britain’s colonies in Asia making a renewed push for independence. This led to tensions between Washington and London, because the Americans had publicly committed to the liberation of colonised countries around the world, while the British wanted to hang on to their empire.
Thailand was an early flashpoint. According to official Thai history, the kingdom was never colonised, but in reality it had been effectively a colony of Britain since 1853, and the British regarded Siam as being firmly in their sphere of influence. The Thai monarchy and the British had collaborated for almost 200 years. But when the Japanese invaded Thailand in December 1941, in order to conquer Malaysia and Singapore, the Thai government acquiesced and (under Japanese pressure) formally declared war on Britain and the United States. The Americans never took the declaration of war seriously, but the British wanted to impose sanctions after 1945. Besides wanting to win back their influence over Siam, they also wanted control of the kingdom’s rice crop, which was essential for feeding their colonies in Asia.
Britain and America were still allies, but they had also become rivals, at odds over the future of Asia.
The British had long been trying—unsuccessfully— to have Ananda educated as an English gentleman. [You can read my article on their efforts here.]
In December 1945, the British provided an aircraft for Ananda and his entourage to fly back to Siam. Long-distance air-travel in the 1940s took several days and required several stops. The royal party spent time in Cairo, Karachi, Calcutta and Rangoon during their trip. They arrived in Bangkok on December 5.
On December 23, American agents in the OSS, the forerunner of the modern CIA, invited Ananda and Bhumibol to visit a Free Thai camp. Alexander McDonald, a U.S. agent who later founded the Bangkok Post newspaper, gave the king a Colt .45 pistol as a gift.
During World War Two, one of Britain’s royal family, Lord Louis Mountbatten, was appointed Supreme Allied Commander for the South East Asia Command by Winston Churchill in 1943. Like most of the British royal family, Mountbatten was related to German aristocracy. At his birth in June 1900 he was known as His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Battenberg. He was the youngest child and the second son of Prince Louis of Battenberg and his wife Princess Victoria of Hesse and by Rhine. After war erupted between Germany and Britain in 1914, the British members of the family abandoned their German titles in 1917.
As commander for South East Asia, Mountbatten tried to promote Britain’s interests in the region, at a time when they were diverging from what America wanted. There were significant tensions between the British and Americans on how to handle Siam and how to deal with the Free Thai movement. Mountbatten became close to Prince Subhasvasti (codename “Tan Chin”) who ran the free Thai in the UK, and Pridi Banomyong (codename “Ruth”) who organised the movement within Thailand. There were tensions with the U.S. members of the Free Thai movement, in particular the royalist Seni Pramoj who hated and feared Pridi.
In January 1946, Mountbatten — still in his role as South East Asia commander—flew to Bangkok to try to salvage British influence in Siam.
Mountbatten and his entourage flew from Singapore to Bangkok on Friday, January 18, in three Douglas C-47 Skytrain “Dakota” aircraft with a large escort of Spitfire fighter planes.
After landing, he changed into his full military dress uniform for an audience with King Ananda. He described the meeting in his diary, memorably describing Ananda as “a frightened short-sighted boy, his sloping shoulders and thin chest behung with gorgeous diamond-studded decorations; altogether a rather pathetic and lonesome figure” who “hadn’t got a clue”. He added that “it is only seventy years since all Siamese, however important, had to prostrate themselves before the King”, not knowing that, far from being a relic of the past, later in the 20th Century prostration would become routinely expected again:
The Master of the Protocol arrived to give us instructions on the procedure at the audience, and accompanied me to the Palace. We arrived at the Royal Grand Palace at 1640, in great pomp, with 16 British and Siamese police outriders. In the outer courtyard a Guard of Honour in khaki was drawn up and in the inner courtyard a guard of Honour of the Siamese Guards Regiment, in scarlet uniforms. Fifes and drums played continuously as we mounted the main marble staircase, which was lined by the Guards Regiment in full dress, and by the Siamese Palace Guard in medieval uniform with blue sarongs pulled up between their legs, and ancient spiked blue and gold helmets.
We were met by the Lord Chamberlain and various notables and Court officials, and were marshalled in one of the main waiting rooms.
We were then led to the Great Throne Room, and as we arrived colossal double doors were thrown open, revealing a colossal room with very ornate Victorian decorations. Down the length of the Throne Room were drawn up the Senior Statesman, the Prime Minister, members of the Cabinet, and Commanders-in-Chief of the Siamese forces in white full dress. At the distant end, in front of the high golden throne which was mounted on four tiers, and which stood under a ceremonial umbrella of nine tiers, stood a frightened short-sighted boy, his sloping shoulders and thin chest behung with gorgeous diamond-studded decorations; altogether a rather pathetic and lonesome figure.
We advanced in a series of short rushes, stopping every ten yards to bow simultaneously taking our time from the Master of Ceremonies, who walked beside me. It is only seventy years since all Siamese, however important, had to prostrate themselves before the King.
When I arrived in the presence of His Majesty King Ananda Mahidol, his nervousness increased to such an alarming extent, that I came very close to support him in case he passed out. He whispered a little halting speech of welcome in so low a voice that I had to bend forward to catch what he said.
The programme had said we were to have ten minutes’ conversation, but after his first speech His Majesty never volunteered another remark. It was clearly impossible to observe the royal protocol of not speaking unless His Majesty spoke to me, and I therefore carried on a monologue as best I could, obtaining replies from the King only if I put him a direct question, such as: ‘Is your Majesty going to remain in Siam?’ Reply: ‘No.’ Question: ‘Does your Majesty plan to go back to Switzerland?’ Reply: ‘Yes.’ Question: ‘I believe we have the honour of dining with your Majesty tonight?’ Reply: ‘Yes’, etc., etc.
As there was no sign of the King dismissing me, I finally said: ‘I feel I should not detain your Majesty any longer.’ Reply: ‘Thank you.’
We then withdrew backwards for the first ten yards, and bowed. We were then allowed to turn about for the next ten yards, and turn about again and bow; after which we were allowed to go as far as the main doors before all turning round again and again bowing.
Hollywood could not possibly have improved on the King’s first State Audience.
I feel I must digress at this moment to describe the situation in which the Boy King finds himself. Some 40 years ago, a small baby was found in a basket and taken to the Queen (the present Queen grandmother), where she was brought up and became an additional maid to Her Majesty. When the time came for her to earn her own living, the Queen kindly offered to pay her expenses to train her for any profession she desired. The foundling girl chose to become a registered nurse, and was accordingly sent to America to be trained.
The Queen’s youngest son in the meanwhile was a qualified doctor attached to an American hospital. His Royal Highness met what was probably the only Siamese woman in American medical circles, the foundling probationer nurse. They fell in love, and were married. They produced three children, a daughter (who is unfortunately married to the son of the leading war criminal of Siam) and two sons. They settled at Lausanne, in Switzerland, and then the Doctor Prince died. I gather that to the Prince’s medical knowledge and energy much of the extremely up-to-date system of public health in Siam is due.
Some 12 years ago, King Prajadhipok, his elder brother, abdicated in favour of his nephew, the 8-year-old Ananda Mahidol, and his foundling princess became the Princess Mother. They paid a brief visit to Siam but were so horrified by Siamese Court life that they hastily returned to live at Lausanne. Here they led an extremely secluded and simple life, the King and his younger brother taking their studies very seriously. He has at present completed two years out of the four years’ course in Swiss Law, and as he told me later, his life’s ambition is to take a degree as a Doctor of Law: Swiss Law, incidentally, not Siamese!
Meanwhile the country had been run by a Regency Council, of which the outstanding member was Nai Pridi Pranomyongse, who was given the title (which he has now abandoned) of Luang Pradit.
The 1942 Prime Minister and Government of Siam were violently pro-Axis, and as soon as they heard of the sinking of the Prince of Wales and Repulse, came to the conclusion that the Allies’ number was up, and declared war on the British and Americans. The British accepted the declaration (indeed they could hardly do otherwise, since Siamese soldiers ranged themselves with the Japanese against us on the boundary of Burma). The Americans, however, who saw no prospect of a physical encounter, rejected the declaration. Thus I was put in an extraordinary position, in my integrated Anglo-American Headquarters, of finding that part of my staff was at war with Siam, whilst the other part was not. This anomalous situation has now been put right by the agreement to terminate hostilities, signed in Singapore on the 1st January. To celebrate this event, four days’ peace celebrations, to coincide with my visit, had been proclaimed, and everywhere throughout Bangkok flags were out, booths had been put up, and there were great gaieties and festivities throughout our visit.
The declaration of war took place whilst Luang Pradit was at his home near Ayuthia, and he, who has always been violently pro-British, rushed back and claimed that the declaration was illegal without his signature. It was however too late to undo the harm. Meanwhile, the Regency Council gradually disappeared, but whether they resigned or died I never found out.
Even before Luang Pradit became the sole Regent, he entered into negotiations with the Allies and in August, 1943, the very month in which the formation of the South-East Asia Command was announced, a significant but highly secret meeting took place in Chungking between the Regent’s emissary and a Lieutenant Colonel of the British Army who had taken the code name of ‘Arun‘. In reality this was a Prince of the Royal House of Siam, Mom Chao Subha Svasti. The Regent was allocated the code name of ‘Ruth’, and when I arrived in South-East Asia he placed the whole Siamese underground resistance movement, which he had been organizing, under my command and promised his fullest support as soon as we could come and drive the Japanese out of Siam. He also sent me a pair of cuff links, which I returned.
After leaving the Royal Grand Palace we drove to the Boromphiman Palace, which was within the walls enclosing these two palaces and the principal temples of Bangkok. Here we were received by the Princess Mother and her younger son. She was dressed in Siamese traditional costume, with a Grand Cross of an Order, and decorations; the younger son in white full dress, also covered with decorations. Unlike her sons, the Princess Mother was extremely talkative. She is extremely attractive and vivacious, and had I not known that she had a 22-year-old daughter I should have put her age at between 30 and 35. Incidentally, Siamese children are rated as one year old at birth; so that, although the King has nominally attained his 21st birthday, he has only been 20 years in this world.
I attacked the Princess Mother on the question of the King leaving his country again so soon after having come to it for almost the first time in his life. I pointed out how lucky it was that he had been recalled by the Regent and the underground movement, since in Yugoslavia, Belgium and Greece they had so far refused to have their King back. I pointed out the obvious danger of His Majesty leaving his country so soon to return to his studies, but was unable to shake HRH.
After a full hour’s talk, I drove back once more to the Royal Grand Palace, where a room had been set aside for me to change into khaki, as I had no fancy to parade round Bangkok in full dress; also I was anxious to avoid any chance of photographs being published, since I realized that it would be premature for European countries to see full dress photographs, whereas any lesser dress would have been almost out of the question at a State Audience, and the King had telegraphed his special directions from London that I should comply with the customs of the country and wear full dress.
I had decided to hold an all British Inter-service Parade and Victory March for the King of Siam as our contribution to the peace celebrations. I went to the parade ground for a rehearsal of what I was to do with the King the following day, and then we went to the saluting base for a similar rehearsal. After that we had a meeting to settle details of the next three days‘ programme. I did not get back to the Udorn Palace until 1850, and within an hour had to leave again for the Boromphiman Palace, in white mess undress. Here a state banquet was given by the King. I was received with the utmost ceremony and shown into the room which contained all the assembled guests by at least half a dozen bowing court officials, who then left me to find my way round the guests and introduce myself in turn. The Siamese notables had the advantage of me, since presumably they knew who I was, but as l was unable to catch their Siamese names and they did not give their titles in English, I was thoroughly bewildered. To add to the confusion, everyone wore white tunics with gold shoulder straps and medal ribbons. I knew that among them was the ex-Regent (whom I had corresponded with so frequently as ‘Ruth’), the Prime Minister, the Cabinet and Commanders-in-Chief, and all the high-court officials, but it was not only impossible to distinguish them from each other, but it was not even possible to distinguish them from the Court servants, who wore identical uniforms, though I later discovered that they had rather less gold on their shoulder straps. Even so, the Assistant Butler, who had been sent to run the Udorn Palace, ranked as a Captain in the army, and no doubt the King’s ‘Page’ holds field rank.
No sooner had I completed introducing myself than the doors at the other end of the room were flung open and the Royal Family entered, accompanied by a cohort of court officials, who remained bowing respectfully in the doorway whilst the unfortunate King was left blinking through his spectacles, obviously bewildered. Everyone bowed, and then an awkward pause ensued; so I came over towards him and shook hands and took him round the twenty or so senior British and American officers and presented them to him. After a further awkward pause, the King made a little gesture to me and then to my great surprise took me into dinner in front of the Princess Mother…
In fact, this had been the King’s first State Audience, first Parade and his first State Banquet, and there did not seem to be anybody who could tell him how to do it. I discovered during dinner that he had never seen any Royal procedure, had not read The Prisoner of Zenda, and had not even seen Hollywood’s version of how to behave as a King. In fact, he hadn’t got a clue!
I then told him as tactfully as I could how our King managed these affairs of state, and he took it all in with pathetic gratitude.
After dinner we all trooped into the garden, where there was a lovely open-air theatre. Here there was a command performance of old Siamese plays and dancing, including a Khon, or masked play, based on the old Indian Ramayanas. I can never describe the magnificent stage settings, or the gorgeous and expensive costumes that were worn; but by far the most striking thing was the graceful gestures of the dancers, and the pleasant rhythm of the two native orchestras. The music appears to be more tuneful than any I have heard in the Far East. Four armchairs had been placed in front by themselves for the Royal Family and myself, and throughout the performance footmen dressed as officers served us with orange squash and cigars on their knees.
The dancing took place on a carpeted space in front of our chairs, and the plays on a regular stage behind that. The orchestras flanked the carpet. Halfway through the performance, three very attractive dancing girls approached across the carpet on their knees, with a large gold chalice in which there was a collection of miniature masks such as were worn by the principal actors in the Ramayana. These they handed to the Princess Mother, who in turn presented them to me. The gold bowl, however, was not part of the gift, and this was fortunate, since I was under an obligation to give presents of equal value for all I received.
Ananda’s mother told Mountbatten that their visit to Siam would be brief, and that they would soon return to Lausanne for at least two years so that Ananda could finish his law degree. Mountbatten tried to argue that it was important that the young king should stay in Siam, but Sangwan was adamant.
The next day, Mountbatten accompanied Ananda, Bhumibol and Sangwan for a royal parade with British soldiers. As he said in his diary entry for Saturday, January 19, “this was to be a day on which I hoped to build up British prestige, since the protracted negotiations in which America had intervened had not served to improve Anglo-Siamese relations”. He again noted Ananda’s awkwardness and shyness: “There were colossal crowds in the streets, anxious to see their King almost for the first time. They were polite and bowed, and a few of them raised a faint cheer. The King sat immobile, looking nervously straight ahead. I finally leant across and said to him: ‘May I suggest that you should acknowledge the cheers of your subjects? Why don’t you salute and bow to them?’ He replied gratefully: ‘l’m afraid I am not very accustomed to this sort of thing.’ He then started acknowledging the cheers of the crowd, which immediately redoubled in consequence.”:
We left the palace at 1000 in a Rolls-Royce with a light blue very dashing Mulliner body. The King and I sat on the back seats and the Aide de Camp General on one of the small occasional seats. The chauffeur and footman were dressed in a uniform indistinguishable from the Russian Guards. We never got out of first gear the whole way, and were surrounded by British and Siamese motor-cycle outriders. The footman had a long silver trumpet, which had a stop to produce two notes. This he sounded every two or three hundred yards. I was gratified to see that colossal crowds had collected round the parade ground, for this was to be a day on which I hoped to build up British prestige, since the protracted negotiations in which America had intervened had not served to improve Anglo-Siamese relations.
The King had no idea what to do, but willingly carried out all the instructions I whispered in his ear. I was however unable to prevent him from carrying out his inspection at much too quick a pace. He looked straight in front of him, very nervously, and never once looked at the men he was inspecting. When the parade was over, we drove in a procession back to the Boromphiman Palace for a gossip, whilst the official spectators moved to the saluting base and the troops moved off to the starting point for the march-past.
After an interesting chat at the palace, the King and I once more drove in procession through the streets to the saluting base in Kingsway, a wonderful wide thoroughfare laid out by the late King. Unfortunately the building contractors were running a racket, and several of the houses collapsed before they could even be finished, which rather destroys the appearance of this lovely avenue.
There were colossal crowds in the streets, anxious to see their King almost for the first time. They were polite and bowed, and a few of them raised a faint cheer. The King sat immobile, looking nervously straight ahead. I finally leant across and said to him: ‘May I suggest that you should acknowledge the cheers of your subjects? Why don’t you salute and bow to them?’ He replied gratefully: ‘l’m afraid I am not very accustomed to this sort of thing.’ He then started acknowledging the cheers of the crowd, which immediately redoubled in consequence. The march-past was really first class, the prize being taken by the Queen’s Guard of Honour, in column of sixes…
I also called on the Senior Statesman, as the ex-Regent is now called, and on the Prime Minister, Seni Pramoj, who had recently spent five years as the Siamese Minister in Washington. He had been reputed to be anti-British, but during this visit showed himself increasingly friendly each day.
After dinner we all went on to the Thai Officers’ Club. Here we joined a party of the prettiest and sweetest little Siamese princesses imaginable. Although I danced with at least half a dozen, there wasn’t one of them who didn’t seem to he princess. They were all about four feet nothing high, tremendously attractive and vivacious, and very good dancers. The senior one was Princess Chambphot, who offered to take me on a shopping and sightseeing expedition; but the sweetest one was known as Ying Wun.
This club is completely open all round, with a swimming pool at one end and a revolving stage for the orchestra, so that a hot jazz band alternated with a native Siamese orchestra. Between the European dances Siamese girl dancers appeared and did some fascinating folk dances of a different style to what we had seen the night before, and if possible more seductive. Having not had much sleep the night before I was very sleepy, and had my leg pulled about this by the little Siamese princesses; finally staggering off to bed well after 0100.
The following day, Mountbatten was taken to the former Siamese royal capital of Ayutthaya. In his diary entry for the day, he complained about lack of sleep, and once again claimed that King Ananda “hasn’t got a clue!” He described dancing with Sangwan, after Ananda was too shy to take to the floor:
Once more I had to work from 0130 to 0330, and was called again at 0645, after much too little sleep.
We reached the ancient capital, Ayuthia, at 1130, and were received here, as usual, by a Guard of Honour and all the local officials in their full dress. We then visited the ruins. They took care to explain to me that it was the Burmese that had sacked and laid waste the city! The Senior Statesman was our host on this party, and this is his home district.
We embarked at 1240 in the magnificent Royal Barge, which has some lovely cabins in it, and a fine promenade deck with a dozen small tables at which lunch and dinner were later served.
At 1300 we stopped at the Panang Cheng Monastery, and went to the temple that contains the world’s largest Buddha. It is really a most impressive idol, bigger I am told than the Dai Butsu which I had seen in Japan. The figure is 61 feet high seated, so that the Buddha would be 120 feet high if erect. The little finger was over six feet in length!
We then went on down the river by barge until 1430, when we landed to see over the Barng Pa-in Palace. After half an hour we continued down the river. Small native huts have been built in a sort of ribbon development along the forty miles of river. It was dark by the time we reached the Siamese Fleet, moored on the outskirts of the capital. The fleet appears to be undamaged, and the Senior Statesman complained that we hadn’t sunk it and saved them its upkeep.
We finally landed at the Senior Statesman’s private landing stage by his house at 2015, and got back to the Udorn Palace just in time to change and leave again for the State Ball at the Ananda Semakhom Hall, which is a great marble building in the same park as the Udorn Palace. I was first told to be there at 2145, then I was asked not to come until 2158, in order to be there two minutes before the King, but the King was twenty minutes late, which just shows that he still hasn’t got a clue!
Meanwhile all the notables of Siam were awaiting him in the Great Hall where the State Ball was to take place. At my request full dress was not worn, since so few British officers had it, but those princes who had British decorations wore their stars. We trooped in a great procession to the raised dais in the centre of the ballroom, where chairs had been provided for the senior members of the Royal Family and myself. We then sat down and an awkward silence ensued. After a while the band struck up and played a lively foxtrot, but nobody dared to dance. After an interminable pause, I saw a Chamberlain approach Admiral Morse and whisper in his ear, after which the Admiral got up and invited one of the princesses to dance. My Siamese Military ADC, Chitchanok, told me that I had been told off to dance the first dance with my friend
Princess Chambphot, and after leaning over to the King and saying; ‘Isn’t your Majesty going to dance?’ and receiving a negative reply, I went off and danced with her.
When I came back I said to the King: ‘All over Europe it has always been the custom for the King to open each State Ball. Do you not think you ought to be dancing?’ Reply: ‘No, I have not yet taken sufficient dancing lessons.’ I spent the next ten minutes trying to persuade the young King to dance. Finally I said: ‘Your Majesty reminds me of a small boy sitting on the edge of a bathing pool on a very cold day and trying to make up his mind to jump in. If only you will take the plunge you’ll find you will quite enjoy it.’ He then took refuge in the answer he so often used: ‘Please ask my mother.’ The Princess Mother supported the King, and said: ‘He is not experienced enough to take the floor.’ I drew her attention to some British officers who were dancing nearby: ‘Look, Mam, these officers are not keeping time to the music! I’m sure the King could do as well as them without any lessons at all!’ She remained adamant and as she had already refused to dance with me herself, I got fed up and said: ‘I absolutely insist that one of you two dances. Either the King dances with one of the princesses, or I insist that you dance with me.’ She laughed good-naturedly, and said: ‘Well, if it has got to be one of us it had better be me,’ and to everyone’s intense astonishment she took the floor with me. The King however remained miserably shy and alone on his throne until midnight, when we all trooped down in a great procession to supper. After this he left, and as l was feeling very tired I too went home, although the ball continued unabated.
On Monday, January 21, Mountbatten was taken on a shopping expedition by Princess Chumphot. In his diary, he complained yet again about his lack of sleep, and also about King Ananda’s awkwardness. He also tried again to persuade Ananda not to leave Siam:
After again working until 0230, l was called at 0700, being by now some eight hours short of my usual sleep over the last three nights, and having only spent long enough in the Udorn Palace by day to change my clothes between items of the programme.
I left at 0850 to pick up Princess Chambphot for the promised shopping and sightseeing expedition. This really was great fun, and I bought all sorts of delightful souvenirs, including a picture of an incident in the Ramayanas.
At 1030 we were billed to start the sightseeing tour, and were shown the various palaces and temples in the Royal enclosure. The most interesting was the famous Emerald Buddha. The figure is only about four feet high, and is carved out of the rarest dark green glistening jade. It was taken some three or four hundred years ago from French Indochina, and the French were stupid enough to claim its return in their proposed peace treaty, which so enraged the Siamese that they broke off all negotiations, which have not yet been resumed. In fact part of the object of my visit was to try and induce them to renew negotiations. During my visit I pointed out to the King, the Senior Statesman and the Prime Minister that they could not possibly expect to hold on to the disputed territories, since the United Nations had decreed there should be no change in territorial boundaries as a result of the war.
The Emerald Buddha had just been dressed by Princess Chambphot’s husband in his winter clothing, and a colossal wooden ladder some fifty feet long led up the back of the golden pedestal on which the Buddha was seated. What interested me most was the mural painting, many hundred yards long, of the whole of the Ramayanas, which included the original of the little picture I had bought that morning.
We went on to the Great Swing and visited the Wat Sutaat Temple, finally getting back at 1230 to the Udorn Palace, with barely enough time to wash and brush up before leaving at 1245 for the Prime Minister’s magnificent offices and residence. Here an official banquet was given, with 75 guests, at which the Prime Minister and I had to make speeches. When he proposed my health the Siamese band played ‘Rule Britannia’. It was disconcerting after a quarter of an hour’s speech, which I had thought was going particularly well, to sit down in dead silence. None of the Siamese attempted to clap, and the British thought it would be bad form if they did. As I was complimented on the speech by a number of Siamese later, I realized that they had not meant their silence as an insult.
By this time a telegram had been received from the Foreign Office giving grudging permission for me to accept the highest class of the Order of the White Elephant, which is the principal order of Siam, and also the Santi Mala Medal struck for the Siamese Guerilla Forces. The Foreign Office said that they could be worn on this occasion only, and were thereafter to be treated as war souvenirs. I shall ask the Foreign Office to provide me with an explanation that I can hand to the King of Siam if I ever meet him at a State occasion in London and am not wearing his precious White Elephant. It is certainly quite the most expensive-looking order I have seen, and outshines any European order in magnificence.
I had to change into full dress at the Prime Minister’s house for the investiture, which was carried out at the Boromphiman Palace at 1500. Afterwards I was taken up for a talk with the Princess Mother, while the King’s younger brother took a series of snapshots of us with his Leica camera.
We left again at 1530, and I did a record change of clothes at the Udorn Palace, arriving five minutes late, at 1550, at our ‘A’ Mess, where a large garden party was being given in my name.
During tea, in a private room, I tried to persuade the King to come out and go round the guests in the garden. He obviously did not want to: I assumed it was his shyness, so I gave him a list of suitable questions he could ask the British Officers by way of making conversation; but he resolutely refused to budge. Finally I asked him if he played any musical instruments, and he replied: ‘The saxophone,’ so I suggested he should come out and watch the saxophonists perform in the Royal Marine band in the garden. He obviously wanted to do this, but did not dare to make up his own mind and said to me, as usual: ‘Please ask my mother.’ So, having persuaded the Princess Mother that this was a good idea, we all traipsed out into the garden and chairs were pulled up right under the bass trombones of the band. Luckily the band made so much noise that further attempts at conversation were not necessary.
In the course of the four days, at the urgent instigation of the Senior Statesman, Prime Minister and older members of the Royal Family, I have been hammering away at the King and the Princess Mother, trying to make them realize that it is crazy to leave the country for another two years’ study in Switzerland, but all to little avail.
The King did say that he would like to end up with six months in England for military studies, and this I undertook to enquire about on his behalf, but my attempts to make him substitute this for Switzerland did not succeed.
He was nice enough to say on the last day: ‘You know, I have given a great deal of thought to what you have been saying, and I hope, if I do not take your advice, you will not think I do not value it. I hope you will agree that I am taking the right decision.’ I replied: ‘No, l emphatically disagree. I am sure you are taking the wrong decision. In learning to become a very fine lawyer, you will hardly learn to become a very good King; but you have this consolation: that if your present decision loses you the throne (as many people seem to think it may), you will be able to earn your living as a lawyer in Switzerland.” The King took this crack in very good heart, and said how much he had enjoyed my visit and having somebody to talk to who wasn’t always saying: ‘Yes, your Majesty.”
I really am sorry for him. He is so hedged about by medieval customs and etiquette. His hair has grown long and untidy but he can’t get it cut until the high priest has cast an auspicious day. It will then be done in state in a temple.
On the morning of January 22, still complaining of lack of sleep, Mountbatten left Siam:
I staggered back to the Udorn Palace at 0200, only to be called again at 0645, by now more than ten hours short of sleep.
We got to Don Muang airfield at 0845, where there was practically the whole of Bangkok to see us off. Not only all the Ministers, Commanders-in-Chief and court officials, but most of the princesses, including Princess Chambphot and Ying Wun…
At 1000 we took off in Hapgift [the name of Mountbatten’s personal Dakota aircraft] landing at 1030 at Kellang airfield, Singapore.
Meanwhile, Mountbatten had reported back to London that Sangwan wanted to take Ananda back to Switzerland for at least two years. This alarmed the British, who felt that it would be better for them if the young king stayed in Siam. Handwritten notes on a Foreign Office file from January 1946 lamented the news that Ananda will go back to Lausanne, but officials seemed to realise they could not change Sangwan’s mind.
One official noted: “the visit to Siam seems to have strengthened the Princess Mother’s determination to keep the King away from the country… The Princess Mother is very quick on the update… and she may have decided that it will be at least 3 years before Siam can revert to something like normal… It would, moreover, be a difficult period for the inauguration of Ananda’s reign; there are sizeable troubles ahead of Siam, in all probability, and from the point of view of a fond mother it is not an auspicious moment for her son to assume an active role.”
Another said: “On a long term view the Princess Mother’s programme for her son’s education is no doubt thoroughly sound, but it is likely to meet with opposition from the Government who feel that the King’s presence is a steadying influence in a difficult transitional period. Her wishes, however, will almost certainly prevail.”
On February 11, Ananda wrote a letter to his tutor in Lausanne, Cléon Séraïdaris, complaining that he could not yet return to Switzerland, and boasting about all the guns he and his brother Bhumibol had received to play with:
11 February 1946
Dear Cléon, we wanted to stay here for one month and it is already “doubled” and it is not finished. They wanted us to stay till the opening of Parliament (24 January) and now they would like us to wait till the revision of the Constitution. It is not an amendment but a complete revision. Instead of one chamber there would be two. They say this will take three months, maybe much more.
Our stay goes on but we are not bored. As far as “toys” are concerned we especially have some American equipment: a jeep; a folding motorcycle for parachutists (the diameter of the wheels is about 25 cm ); a walkie — talkie (a transmitting and receiving set with battery that could work for as far as one kilometre) …
As far as weapons are concerned, we have an entire arsenal: A “Carbine” automatic rifle, 15 shots just by pulling the trigger 15 times; very light and precise. An American pistol of 11 mm calibre! It makes an enormous noise and I cannot attain any precision. A “M3 ”sub-machine gun making 30 shots at 11 mm in a row. A “Thompson” sub-machine gun, 30 shots as well, but one could shoot like the Carbine. A “Sten” sub-machine gun, a tiny apparatus which, when dismantled, could get into a school bag.
In the country there are quite a number of modern weapons that were parachuted in by the US for the Resistance. The other day we were by the sea and we shot on the bottles that we had thrown out.
As far as the “Resistance” is concerned, there was a widespread underground movement … there were secret airfields where allied agents and weapons were received. Many “relatives” cousins, came down by parachute before Japan surrendered.
There are a large number of problems in the country…
As far as Indochina is concerned, the Allies want the status quo of 1939, at the risk of settling the matter later in a court.
There are huge domestic problems: high inflation, prices have increased ten times, then a hundred times.
There are large numbers of thieves and gangsters… Now the gangsters operate sub-machine guns and grenades.
Clothes are lacking and, in the country, husband and wife sometimes cannot go out together because of the lack of clothes. This is what the country lacks most because food is abundant (not like in neighbouring countries).
Damage caused by bombing is rather small compared to that on Germany. However, the bridges have suffered a lot.
Disorder prevails in the Palace.
We also play music with saxophones: alto, soprano, tenor, clarinet. The ex-Prime Minister and a few musicians come to play with us… And the Ratanakuls? Over here, it is not too bad…
As we are not coming back soon, you can write many times. Letters take ten to twenty days to arrive.
Please send on this attached sheet with my fond greetings, and thank you in advance.
There are still many other things. Let me know your preference. Greetings, etc. And to the Ratanakuls!
A.M.
Meanwhile, by March, the British charge d’affairs Hugh Bird was reporting that Ananda may have changed his mind and might stay in Siam for an official coronation:
This led to intense discussion at the Foreign Office in Britain, recorded in files in the archives. One official noted that: “The Princess Mother was at first of the opinion that the King should return to Switzerland for a further two years to complete his studies . She then stressed her desire that the King should at some time visit England so that he could learn ‘something of the world’ in ‘one of the few surviving monarchies.’ The King himself spoke of receiving some military training here.”
He added: “Our latest information is that the King is now doubtful about returning to Switzerland, that he contemplates being crowned, and that he still hopes to visit England later on for a period of about six months.”
The official said it was highly desirable to get Ananda to spend time in Britain, to help preserve British influence in Siam: “we have here an opportunity to carry on a tradition founded by this King’s ancestors, and to knit more closely the cultural ties which have long existed between Siam and Great Britain.”
Ian Wilson-Young, head of the South-East Asia Department at the Foreign Office, added that it was highly desirable that Ananda should visit Britain:
the King (who though still tied to his mother’s apron strings had noticeably developed since January) still wished to return to Switzerland for a further two years to qualify as a doctor in Swiss law although Luang Pradist and the Royal Family were all opposed to such a long absence; everyone however, including the King himself, was most anxious that His Majesty should be allowed six months of military studies in the U.K. at some future date…
I think that it would undoubtedly be a good thing for the King to spend six months or so in this country. The Siamese Royal Family have long had ties with the United Kingdom and a visit here soon after his coronation might not only have an important influence on the King himself but would no doubt have a marked effect on public opinion throughout Siam.
In April, Sir Orme Sargent, who as Permanent Under-Secretary was effectively head of the Foreign Office in Britain, wrote to Sir Alan Lascelles, private secretary to King George VI, suggesting that the British monarch officially invite Ananda for a visit:
On the first of the year we signed an agreement with Siam bringing the state of war to an end and providing for the resumption of normal diplomatic relations between the two countries. Our Minister in Bangkok recently took up his duties and in various political reports has stressed the importance of our pursuing a positive policy if we are to recover our former position, political and economic, in Siam and furthermore to assist in the procurement and export of the maximum quantities of rice so urgently needed to avert famine in many countries in South East Asia. While we are already doing what we can in various ways, we feel that-an important further step in improving our position might be the issue of an invitation to King Ananda to come to this country… we feel that, whereas King Ananda would presumably pursue his studies here in a private capacity, it would be desirable for him to spend a few days on an official visit as the guest of The King.
Britain’s King George VI was an awkward character. Like Ananda, he had never been expected to become king. His brother, King Edward VIII had unexpectedly abdicated in December 1936 so he could marry his divorced American mistress Wallis Simpson. Suddenly Albert Frederick Arthur George became king. He was extremely shy and socially awkward, with a speech impediment that made him profoundly self conscious.
In a letter from Windsor Castle, one of the British royal residences, Lascelles replied that a visit by Ananda would be fine in principle, but added that King George preferred to have no visits between end-July and mid-October:
British diplomats in London regarded this as a green light, and cabled Britain’s ambassador in Bangkok, Geoffrey Thompson, to suggest he extend an invitation to Ananda:
Subject to your views we feel that it would be an excellent thing for King Ananda to spend six months or more in this country. There has been a long tradition of friendly personal relations between the Siamese Royal Family and this country and a visit here soon after King Ananda’s coronation might not only have an important influence on King Ananda himself but would no doubt have a marked effect on public opinion throughout Siam. The issue of an invitation to visit this country would also be in harmony with the positive policy recommended in your telegram №226 [of the 22nd March] and should help us to regain our former position in Siam.
Thompson replied on April 23 to say that he had raised the issue with Siam’s foreign minister, Direk Jayanama, who promised to raise it with the government and the king and noted that Ananda had already been invited to visit the United States. This caused alarm in Britain — as Thompson said: “that an invitation should already have been extended to the King to visit the United States is yet another indication that the Americans are going all out to cultivate this country.”
On May 2, Thompson sent another secret cable to say that Ananda was planning to visit the United States later in the month or early in June. The Siamese government told him that Ananda could visit Britain afterwards, around mid-June, before returning to Lausanne to continue his studies.
In London, diplomats at the Foreign Office were delighted that Ananda would be visiting, but were conscious that they were competing against the Americans for the favour of the young king. Wilson-Young noted that cursory hospitality from King George VI would not “rival American hospitality” — it was important for the British monarchy to give Ananda special treatment:
Since King Ananda is not going to come here for an initial period of six months military studies, his visit to the United Kingdom would be en route from the United States to Switzerland and would in fact be made specifically for the purpose of visiting the King. I feel that since the Americans have gone out to win his affections, it is all the more important that the invitation to King Ananda should be maintained, but in view of the detour which the visit will now involve, I am not certain that an invitation to luncheon or to the Royal Box at Ascot will offer sufficient attraction to rival American hospitality.
The British soon found they had a problem. The cantankerous and awkward King George VI didn’t want to host Ananda. The best he was willing to offer was a lunch party or a day watching horse races at Ascot, as his private secretary Alan Lascelles explained in another letter from Windsor Castle.
It would be very difficult indeed for The King and Queen to invite him to stay with them at that time; they will be leaving London for Windsor on June 14th, and for the following week (Ascot Races) the Castle will be full to its present capacity, which in these days is not very great.
If the King of Siam does decide to come at that time, it looks as if the best that could be done for him would be (a) an invitation to luncheon at Buckingham Palace if he arrives before June 15th; or (b) an invitation to come to the Royal Box at Ascot if he does not arrive till later; as you know, Ascot is to be an ”austerity” affair this year, with no luncheons.
I should add that The King and Queen are leaving London for Edinburgh on the evening of June 27th, and will be at Holyrood until the evening of July 3rd.
Much like Siam, Britain was ruled by an archaic elite hidebound by tradition. There was no good reason why King George could not change his schedule and host Ananda— after all, the Foreign Office considered it vital for the empire’s strategic geopolitical interests.
So British diplomats tried to push Lascelles to get the monarch to change his mind. But a further letter from Windsor Castle showed that the excuses about the king’s schedule were just a polite way of saying no. King George did not want to host Ananda at Buckingham Palace. After his previous letter failed to give the hint, Lascelles sent another letter making it clearer. The best King George was willing to offer was lunch:
His Majesty does not feel disposed to invite the King of Siam to stay here.
Buckingham Palace is not at present in a suitable condition for a State, or semi-State, visit from the Head of a Foreign State; moreover, the two periods mentioned in your letter will be particularly busy ones for both The King and The Queen.
The King considers that the best plan would be for arrangements to be made for King Ananda to stay privately elsewhere; Their Majesties would, of course, invite him to luncheon, provided they are in London. They have, as a matter of fact, already undertaken to be away from July 12th to 15th, and from the evening of July 16th to July 19th.
Meanwhile, in Bangkok, King Ananda summoned ambassador Geoffrey Thompson to say how much he was looking forward to staying with Britain’s king and queen at Buckingham Palace. He even asked what formal clothing he would be required to wear during his visit:
To make matters worse for the British, their diplomats in Washington cabled to say that the United States was planning a lavish welcome for Ananda, providing an aircraft to bring him to San Francisco and then a meeting with President Harry Truman in Washington:
There was so much excitement in the United States about Ananda’s visit that 20th Century Fox decided to release their new movie of Anna and the King of Siam to coincide with the young king’s visit:
Britain’s diplomats were appalled that King George VI was not inclined to hist King Ananda. As Wilson-Young noted:
Apart from the arguments in favour of an official visit to this country, which remain as strong as they were, there is now the further point that for Mr. Thompson to explain that after all an invitation cannot be issued for an official visit would almost certainly cause deep offence both to the Siamese Royal Family and Government. The position is more embarrassing in the light of Mr Thompson’s audience with the King of Siam yesterday when King Ananda, after saying how much he was looking forward to meeting the King and Queen, asked a number of questions about the wardrobe which he would need and ended by saying that he felt sure his visit to Britain would do much to strengthen and improve Anglo-Siamese relations…
In the light of developments at Bangkok I do not see how we can suggest to King Ananda that he should make a detour to visit this country en route from the United States to Switzerland in order to take luncheon with Their Majesties. I submit that either King Ananda should come as the King‘s official guest or that it should be explained to him that the dates which are apparently convenient to him for the visit to this country unfortunately do not fit in with the engagements that the King has already assumed.
In a handwritten note, another British diplomat, Sir Nevile Butler, plaintively suggested that “as Buckingham Palace is in a mess the King of Siam might be invited for a weekend at Windsor Castle, which might impress him even more than the Palace. After that he could be put up at Claridges.”
Claridges was a London hotel favoured by the British upper classes, but it was hardly a substitute for staying at Buckingham Palace.
In Bangkok, oblivious to the problems with King George VI, British ambassador Geoffrey Thompson sent more details of Ananda’s planned trip to the United States. The Americans were planning to fly Ananda to San Francisco in a “Skymaster” aircraft and host him for four days in California, a night in Chicago, four days in Washington—with a meeting with the president—and a day or two in New York. The Americans then assumed that Britain would provide an aircraft to fly Ananda to London:
At the Foreign Office in London, Orme Sargent was in despair. Despite clear signals from King George that the British monarch was not inclined to host Ananda, he was desperate to try to salvage the situation to try to gain influence over the young Siamese monarch.
“I am afraid that we now find ourselves in rather a difficult position,” he wrote to Alan Lascelles:
In accordance with the instructions in our telegram №408 which was despatched immediately on receipt of your letter of the 17th April, Thompson broached the matter of an official Visit to the Siamese Minister for Foreign Affairs and on the 2nd May reported that King Ananda would be glad to pay a brief formal visit to the United Kingdom after leaving America and before proceeding to Switzerland.
I now enclose a copy of a further telegram from Thompson, dated the 21st May, reporting.that the King of Siam had summoned him and, after saying how much he was looking forward to meeting the King and queen, had asked a number of questions about the wardrobe which he would require while in England. At the end of the audience King Ananda said that he felt sure that the visit to Britain would do much to strengthen and improve Anglo-Siamese relations.
These developments will clearly render it very embarrassing to explain to King Ananda that it has now been found that an official visit cannot conveniently be arranged. There would be a very real danger of giving offence to the Siamese Royal Family and Government, and consequently of a decision not to visit the country at all at the present time and possibly abandon the intention to pursue military studies here at a later date…
We think that a visit by King Ananda might very considerably assist our efforts to recover our former position, political and economic, in Siam where we may expect to meet very serious American competition. The invitation to King Ananda to visit the United States provides further evidence that the Americans are going all out to cultivate Siam.t Admiral Mountbatten, when urging the issue of an invitation to visit the U.K., reported King Amanda as being intelligent and most studious but deplorably ignorant of his duty; he added that King Ananda had character and was inspired by democratic ideals but was surrounded by traditional barriers and fully occupied by empty ceremonial duty. In our view it would therefore be of great value if King Ananda, who is at an impressionable age, could observe at first hand something of the ways of the British Monarchy…
For the foregoing reasons I am there impelled to approach you once more in the hope that some way may be found of fitting in a few days official visit perhaps early in July. Could the King and Princess Mother, for instance, be invited to Windsor for a weekend, after which they could be put up at Claridges?
In Bangkok, Thompson was getting increasingly alarmed and sending annoyed cables complaining he had “received not one word of guidance”.
Meanwhile the Americans told British diplomats that they had heard Britain would be providing an aircraft to take Ananda from New York to London at the end of his U.S. visit:
At Windsor Castle, King George’s private secretary had already sent two letters making it clear — in a very British way—that the monarch had no intention of hosting Ananda. Just like in Thailand, among the British upper classes it was considered rude to explicitly say no. But faced with continued pressure from the Foreign Office to persuade King George to change his mind, the monarch’s secretary Alan Lascelles sent a “final reply” ruling out any possibility of Ananda staying with them:
The King and Queen have given their close consideration to the possibility of inviting the King of Siam and the Princess Mother to stay wit them at Buckingham Palace in the early part of July, after Their Majesties’ return from Scotland. I am sorry to say that, for domestic reasons, it is a physical impossibility for Their Majesties to extend such an invitation to King Ananda and his Mother at that time.
Buckingham Palace, as you know, suffered repeated damage from bombs during the war; as a result, practically all the bedrooms available for distinguished visitors were put out of commission; the difficulties of getting repair-work of this kind done quickly nowadays have resulted in only two or three such rooms being made habitable.
Unluckily, even these few rooms have now been made temporarily unavailable again owing to the discovery of certain structural defects which must be put right; work is shortly being undertaken in them which could not be completed in time for King Ananda s projected arrival.
I am to ask if this could be explained to King Ananda, and if, at the same time, a friendly message could be conveyed to him from The King to the effect that, while Their Majesties greatly regret being unable to invite him to stay here this summer, they look forward to doing so on some other occasion later on when KingAnanda may possibly come over to England from Switzerland . During his forthcoming visit, Their Majesties will be glad to give a small dinner-party for him and his Mother, and (if they are still 1n London) to invite them to the Garden Party on July 9th.
As regards clothes, King Ananda would only need a short coat and black tie for he dinner here; for the Garden Party, he could suitably wear whatever corresponds in Siam to service-dress uniform.
It was true that Buckingham Palace had been bombed during the war, but this was not a good reason to refuse a visit from Ananda. King George, for whatever reason, just didn’t want to host the Siamese king, and British diplomats were unable to persuade him to change his mind.
Still oblivious to the problems, Thompson in Bangkok was sending increasingly exasperated cables asking for some guidance about Britain’s plans for the royal visit. He noted that the lack of any guidance from London was “becoming very difficult to laugh off”:
It has also been politely conveyed to me that the King would greatly appreciate some indication of what is being arranged for him in United Kingdom, who will meet the Royal party, how they will proceed from the airfield and to what destination etc. etc.
Grateful if you could kindly expedite your instructions long-continued absence of which is becoming very difficult to laugh off.
King Ananda’s plans to leave New York for London on June 22 caused another headache for the British. Not only would King George be unavailable (and unwilling) to host Ananda, but the British couldn’t even organise a plane for the Thai royal party before July 1. It was a national embarrassment, a painful sign of Britain’s diminishing status in world affairs.
The British tried to make the best of it. A cable from Wilson-Young set out the plan. Ananda would be treated as a guest of the British government, rather than the recalcitrant King George:
But the British were panicking. Ananda’s proposed arrival date in Britain meant that they couldn’t arrange a luncheon with King George. Worse, they couldn’t even provide a plane:
We are surprised that King of Siam should be ready to leave New York as early as the 22nd June ( repeat 22nd June ). Before finally deciding on the date of his departure from New York King Ananda may wish to know that the King and Queen are heavily engaged and would not be able to entertain him until after their return from Scotland on the morning of the 4th July. While we are still confident that a new Constellation will be available to bring the Royal party from New York on or after the 1st July it would almost certainly not be possible to arrange any suitable aircraft for an earlier date.
Trying to make the best of a disastrous situation, the Foreign Office told Thompson to invite Ananda as a guest of the British government — not the British king—after his visit to the United States. The best that King George was willing to offer was “a small dinner party”:
Meanwhile, Britain’s treasury was asked to find the funds to pay for a plane to take the Siamese royal entourage from New York to London, and then back to Bangkok:
On June 6, 1946, a cable from Washington gave the full details of Ananda’s planned U.S. visit. It included a night staying at the White House, and from June 22 the official visit would be over, and Ananda was expected to fly from New York to London after a few days with his entourage of 15 to 30 people
The British were reeling. Not only had King George refused to meet Ananda in June, but they didn’t even have a plane available to bring him to Britain until June 30. They were reduced to asking Thompson to try to get the king to stay privately in New York until the end of June:
Two days later, on June 9, 1946, Ananda was shot dead in his bedchamber in the Grand Palace in Bangkok, killed by a bullet from the Colt .45 pistol he had been given the previous December during his visit to a Free Thai camp. This caused a crisis in Thailand that continues to reverberate eight decades later [and you can read my article on who killed Ananda here] but it removed Britain’s immediate embarrassing inability to properly host his visit.
On a file about the debacle in the British national archives, a Foreign Office official appended a handwritten note on June 11, 1946:
Since the king has died, this can now go by.
