Missing the Bus

On April 4 1940, during an early stage of World War II, which American journalists dubbed “The Phoney War,” because not much actual fighting was going on, prime minister Neville Chamberlain, who had led Britain into the war, addressed his Conservative Party with a speech in which he used a common metaphor in a rather odd way. He said that, in not taking advantage of the opportunity to attack Britain while she had been at her weakest, Hitler had “missed the bus.” 

The concept of Der Fuhrer missing a bus was so grotesque that it must have inspired a rash of editorial cartoons. But Chamberlain’s mild depiction of the enemy was fully in accord with his generally meek image as a statesman. His policy of “appeasement” had, less than two years before, brought him to Germany to negotiate in person with Hitler, a trip which resulted in what many came to regard as one of history’s great betrayals. The “Munich Pact” gave Hitler what he had been demanding – a portion of what was then Czechoslovakia – in exchange for a dubious guarantee that Germany had no more territorial claims. 

Upon arriving home, Chamberlain stepped from the plane, waving a copy of the agreement, which, he told Britain and the world, he believed would mean “Peace in our time.” 

But, not long after that “missed bus” speech, in May 1940, when his country had already been at war for eight months, Chamberlain was forced to resign, to be replaced by the much more bellicose Winston Churchill. By that time, with several Nazi invasions under way, the war had already become much less phoney. The German “Blitz” on London began in September of that year, and, it was no longer apparent that Hitler had missed any bus at all. Indeed, the eventual outcome of the conflict remained very much in doubt, at least until a long year later, when, to Churchill’s jubilation, America, after Pearl Harbor, entered the war. 

(Incidentally, contrary to what many people think, that massive assault by Germany upon England by air was not her first such attempt. Scarcely two decades earlier, in World War I, German Zeppelins had repeatedly raided Britain, causing much damage and 1500 civilian deaths. Why did the British not retaliate in kind then, as they did so overwhelmingly in the next war? For one thing, they didn’t have the requisite fleet of airships or bombers. But it may also have been partly from a feeling that what the Germans were doing was rather worse than unsportsmanlike. It was outrageous – in effect, a war crime – though I don’t think anybody was ever prosecuted for it.)

But, getting back to missing the bus, let me first remind you that “bus” was a shortened form of omnibus, a Latin expression, meaning “for all,” as is seen in such Latin expressions as “justitia omnibus,” meaning “justice for all.”   

And when I think now of those old British omnibuses, the ones I remember best were vehicles I rode almost daily, during the first decade after World War II, when I was living in England, and went to school by public transportation. They had many features we have lost or improved upon in today’s models.

For one thing, they were double-deckers, and every bus had a crew of two – a driver and a conductor. The driver sat up front near the engine, in his own separate enclosed section and had no contact with the passengers, except the “dings” he heard telling him that someone wanted to get off at the next stop. 

The conductor, however, had a much more active and strenuous job, circulating throughout the bus, making sure that everybody had a ticket, and that, after a stop, it was safe to start again. He carried a board with tickets of different colors, and a big leather bag full of change. You paid according to how far you were going, and he punched an appropriate hole in your ticket.

Those buses had no doors (and, as I recall, no heating) –  just an open platform at the rear curb-side corner. There was a pole to grasp – and it was a (decidedly unofficial) sport to get on or off the bus while it was still moving. The upper deck was enclosed and reached from the platform by a narrow winding staircase. The front seats at the top, with their fine view, were always my favorites. 

Forgive my nostalgia, Mr. Chamberlain, but I do still miss those buses.