Adjournment

Vyacheslav Molotov and his Russian colleagues lunched with George Marshall at the U.S. ambassador's residence in London. In the sitting room, a photographer asked them to gather round the fireplace. "Good," grinned Andrei Vishinsky, "that will be cozy."

Two days later, the Foreign Ministers' conference broke up in complete disagreement.

"The Time Has Come." In a sense, there never had been a conference in London at all. Vyacheslav Molotov had not come to confer. The Russians, fully aware that the Western powers would not agree to treaties that gave Russia control of central Europe, had another end in view. Molotov had come to make propaganda, mostly addressed to the Germans. The climax came on the 16th day at the table. Molotov started off with his usual sputter of accusations against the West. Said George Marshall: "Perversion and deliberate misconstruction. . . ." Then he again demanded a clear statement of Soviet policy. Said Molotov: ". . . When the time comes. . . ." Said Marshall: ". . . The time has come,"

Molotov blandly played the same propaganda record over again. Cried Ernie Bevin: ". . . The same untrue statements are repeated as if we had never answered them." Said Marshall: "... A pure propaganda statement. [Mr. Molotov] makes it rather difficult to inspire respect for the dignity of the Soviet Government." Molotov tautened, stared straight at the blue table. "He looked," said one observer, "a little stiller."

"Off the Hook." Molotov flatly rejected Marshall's demands that Russia stop taking reparations from current German production; he also refused any information on past Russian seizures in Germany. His tone was so aggressive that it seemed to leave no room for further talk. At a real conference, that would have been regretted. But in London last week, one U.S. delegation member sighed gratefully: "Molotov has taken us off the hook."

He meant that, had Molotov been seemingly conciliatory, the U.S. would have been forced to continue wading through the marsh of statistics, accusations and debaters' petty triumphs. Although Marshall and Bevin wanted German and Austrian treaties with the Russians, they knew as well as Molotov that the real purpose of the London meeting was not to confer but to propagandize. Marshall's words and tactics at the table made it clear that what he sought there (agreement being impossible) was world understanding of the misunderstanding. He was trying to demonstrate once & for all that true negotiations with the Russians were not possible, and that fake negotiations, based on the myth of "the unanimity of the great powers," would prove a fatal trap for U.S. policy. Since Molotov was tougher and more plainly destructionist than he had to be, the Russian helped Marshall make his point.

"No Useful Purpose." This week came the final demonstration. After another futile session, George Marshall launched into a tense summing-up: "The Soviet Union has refused to furnish vitally necessary information. . . . Soviet practices ... have prevented Germany from playing its part in the recovery of Europe. ... If real economic unity could have been established, the U.S. would have been ready . . . immediately [to grant Germany] self-government. . . . Three delegations [are willing] to take these decisions here and now. The Soviet Union alone refuses. . . . I reluctantly conclude that no useful purpose would be served by [further] debate, and I suggest that the Council of Foreign Ministers might now consider adjournment at this session."

The ministers made no arrangements to meet again.

The Western powers could now proceed to help Europe to its feet.

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