Before the Storm

The 25th anniversary of the U.S. entry into World War I was a quiet day, in which the new war seemed to hang in a vacuum. Only in Bataan were U.S. soldiers fighting the enemy hand-to-hand; news of U.S. naval and air battles trickled through slowly from scattered reaches of the Pacific; sometimes the U.S. did not seem to be at war at all.

But in the lull clouds gathered. War machines were cranking up. Great events would come, must come, cataclysm on cataclysm. The nation's armies and armaments grew like thunderheads; some day soon they must burst with a great explosive flash.

An A.E.F. had landed in Ireland, close to the vast potential battlefields of Europe. U.S. officials conferred urgently in London, British officials in Washington; even now they might be planning the second front that Joseph Stalin has pleaded for. If they were, they were certainly not broadcasting their plans. Another A.E.F. was in Australia; a Pacific War Council met regularly in Washington; the first lightning flash might come from the Far East.

When World War I came to the U.S. 25 years ago this week, the day was also quiet. The nation had been attacked only through its shipping; there was no sense of urgency; Congress voted its declaration of war only after three exhausting days of debate. The U.S. of 1917 had only some 100,000 men in its Army, only 55 airplanes, 35 pilots. A draft bill was not signed for a month; it was two months before the first A.E.F.--fewer than 15,000 men--arrived in France.

This time the nation was better prepared. It started the war with an Army of 1,700,000, a Navy twice as big as in 1917, thousands of airplanes and more building. The lull could not last long. The nation knew, instinctively, that it would fight great battles before another anniversary passed.

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