The Army's Guests

Who fouled up the peace news? At bars where newsmen gather, pinning the blame will be a soul-searching pastime for years to come. But that miscarriage of news and the possibilities of similar miscarriages posed a bigger problem than the morals of the Associated Press's Ed--ward Kennedy, whose "scoop" went sour.

Off the Record. The full story, thanks to the whims of SHAEF censorship, was slow in coming out. On Sunday afternoon at an airport outside Paris, 16 newsmen had been assembled--on 15 minutes' notice--and told they were to cover an important out-of-town assignment. After their big C-47 was in the air, Brigadier General Frank A. ("Honk") Allen Jr., SHAEF press chief, shouted above the engines' roar to the 16: "Gentlemen, we are going ... to cover the signing of the peace. . . . This story is off the record until the respective . . . Governments announce [it]. I therefore pledge . . . you on your honor not to communicate the results of this conference or the fact of its existence until it is released by SHAEF."

No one objected--not even the A.P.'s Edward Kennedy.

Back in Paris that afternoon Ed Kennedy broke his word. He first made some attempt to warn SHAEF (but not his colleagues) of what he was up to. He tried to reach General Allen by telephone, but was told that the General was too busy. According to Kennedy, he then warned Allen's aide, who said: go ahead and try to get it out, Ed; it's impossible. After also serving warning, just for good measure, on Lieut. Colonel Richard Merrick, chief U.S. press censor, Kennedy sneaked his story to London by telephone.

How the call reached London without being censored, Kennedy would not say. (He dramatically pledged his Paris A.P. staff to secrecy--"no matter what pressure they bring to bear, even under torture." Moaned one earnest A.P. staffer: "Gee, Ed, I might break under torture.")

Burned Up. A trusted veteran of 20 years' reporting, and the A.P.'s European war chief, Kennedy had rashly risked his reputation. Why? He had sat on stories before: like some other newsmen in the Mediterranean, for example, he had known all about the Patton face-slapping incident, and had kept it quiet--only to have Drew Pearson spill it.

Kennedy gave as his reason for breaking the peace news that there was no military security involved. General Allen had told him, he said, that the surrender story was being held up only for Big Three political reasons.

For 24 hours, Ed Kennedy had a scoop which the A.P. touted to the fullest. But, as his colleagues in Paris irately pointed out, it was a scoop that anyone might have had if he were willing to break his word. The New York Times's Drew Middleton cabled that it was "the most colossal 'snafu' in the history of the war. I am browned off, fed up, burned up and put out." Fifty-four correspondents at SHAEF signed an angry soo-word protest, calling Kennedy's action "the most disgraceful, deliberate and unethical double cross in the history of journalism."

Hero or Heel. The A.P. soon found its own membership almost equally divided as to whether Kennedy was a hero or a heel. Said the Richmond Times-Dispatch: Kennedy "should have no place in journalism." Said the Cincinnati Times-Star: "What Kennedy did, the other reporters could--and, we think, should--have done."

For three days some of the A.P.'s noisiest boosters defended the gun-jump ing as "freedom of the press," confusing that worthy phrase with the desire to get out a news bulletin ahead of the competi tion. After strong nudging from the Ken-nedy-did-wrong wing, A.P. President Rob ert McLean belatedly spoke up: "The Associated Press profoundly regrets. . . ." About Kennedy's own future, or his value to his employers, no one knew for sure. His fate was first in the lap of the khaki gods of SHAEF who, after a week's fretting, "disaccredited" him, and ordered him back to the U.S. Then it would be in the laps of the double-breasted gods of the A.P. in Manhattan. Said Kennedy: "My conscience, is clear. . . ." Who Is So Dumb? PM Columnist Tom O'Reilly summed up: "Kennedy was guilty of breaking a release date, which, in the newspaper business, is practically crime No. i. . . . But never before in history had anybody been so dumb as to try to put a release date on the end of a continental war."

SHAEF, of course, had a ready explanation : General Eisenhower had agreed "to make no announcement of any kind until the Russian high command could be satisfied . . . that the surrender was genuine on all fronts. . . ." But the German Army and public had already been told the news by the German radio, and the Allied Army had already been notified of war's end by General Eisenhower. Only the Allied public was to have been kept temporarily in the dark.

This seemed to cut the ground from under General Allen's contention that Kennedy had risked "possible loss of American and Allied lives." Yet General Eisenhower, rightly or wrongly, had promised the Russians full notice, and if Reporter Kennedy was ready to break this promise, General Eisenhower was not. The A.P. man's one-man-revolt served to give the whole U.S. press a black eye. Worse, it strengthened the censor's hand, just when it needed weakening.

There's a Peace On. General Allen wasted no time. A Regular Army soldier who fought with distinction in both World Wars I & II, Honk Allen has a knowl edge of newspapering that could be put into a K-ration container and still rattle around. He cavalierly announced that re porters had been present at the surrender "by the courtesy of SHAEF." And, using Kennedy's misdeed as a shillelagh, he an nounced that henceforth all newsmen in Europe would be let in on the Army's confidences chiefly because "I have engaged to be personally responsible for the good faith of each press representative." The Army persisted in taking the view that this was an issue between itself and the press, rather than between itself and the public. On this narrow ground and in a self-righteous mood, the Army last week disaccredited four correspondents who had visited Berlin without permission, and also issued a new censorship code. The new code not only disallowed all stories about such things as battle tactics and troop movements which might give information to the Japanese. But it also forbade "unauthenticated, inaccurate or false reports, misleading statements and rumors" (thereby setting the Army up as sole judge of the truth) and "reports likely to injure the morale of the Allied forces or the relations between the Allied nations" (which could cover anything the Army did not like).

These provisions had been in the earlier code and in general had not been abused by the Army. But their repromulgation after V-E day raised important questions. Did the Army recognize that the war in Europe had ended? At what point does brass-hattism end and a truly free press begin? So long as all U.S. newsmen in Europe are obliged to wear Army uniforms, carry Army credentials, depend on Army transportation and send their dispatches by Army courtesy--to do business, in fact, only as "guests" of the Army--the U.S. public could not expect to get all the news it was entitled to from Europe.

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