August Mood

There was no parade when the 20th Infantry Battalion of the Marine Corps reserve left Oklahoma City last week. "They're more interested in being with their families the last few hours," explained an officer. Veterans of Oklahoma's veteran 45th National Guard Division, called up last week, were as grave. Said 1st Lieut. Pendelton Woods: "Looks like we might all get in it anyway and I'd rather go with people I know. I wish we'd never got involved in this, but it's too late now and we've got to get the job done."

Across the nation, few flags waved and few bands played. In a sober week, the nation was mulling sober thoughts. What some of the thoughts seemed to be was reflected in reports of TIME correspondents around the country:

P: No questioning of the need to fight in Korea, but much questioning of U.S. unpreparedness for it ("What happened to all that money?").

P: Shock at the apparent shortcomings of U.S. equipment, and peevishness about remembered brags.

P: A feeling that "the real war" had not come yet, but was probably coming.

P: A hunch that only the U.S. atom bomb deterred Joe Stalin from "the real war."

P: A realization that the U.S. could fight itself into exhaustion against Asia's satellite manpower while Russia sat on the sidelines. ("Old Joe can step into the ring any time he sees us beginning to tire").

P: Impatience at the prospect of fighting a succession of small "brush fires," with an impulse to drop the atom bomb on Moscow. "Let's end it before it starts" was a phrase frequently heard.

P: A hearty respect for Soviet fighting prowess, and new respect for Russian ability to inspire its satellites to fight.

P: Puzzled recognition of the international appeal of Communism; its very incomprehensibility made it disturbing ("Why does anybody want to be a Communist?").

P: A feeling, for the first time in living memory, that much of the U.S. might be devastated in an all-out war. This didn't put people in a cold sweat; it did put them in a mood to buckle down.

P: A willingness to do whatever had to be done, but an irritated sensation of not being told what to do. A suspicion that the Administration doesn't quite trust the country, hesitates to give it bad news or require hard sacrifices.

P: A deeply felt, typically American faith that though it wouldn't be easy, the U.S. would somehow climb out of this hole. No one was eager for war; it would be harder to go than last time--jobs were better, bank accounts bigger, cars were never newer, and the U.S. knew (partly) what war meant. Veterans said resignedly: "If they want me, they know where to find me." But there was no suggestion that Korea was far away and none of our business. The U.S. citizen, who had had to be told that Hitler was a threat, didn't have to be told this time. He knew that the Communists were aiming for something bigger than Korea--and that that target included him.

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