Peace Moves

Last week the continued story of Sumner Welles's mission to Europe was no match for dramatic, high-pressure, Russian-Finnish peace moves in the Baltic (see p. 19). Only the U. S. State Department knew how deeply the U. S. was involved in those moves; officially the U. S. had neither asked nor been asked to mediate. Said White House Spokesman Steve Early, defining the attitude of President Roosevelt: "He didn't close any door, but he didn't open any door either."

In Moscow, Ambassador Laurence A. Steinhardt opened the door of the U. S. Embassy a little--enough to let citizens see, within its secrecy-shrouded interior, that he had conferred long with Premier-Foreign Commissar Molotov just as peace moves got under way in earnest, that he had held an unpublicized reception for the Finnish negotiators when they arrived--all giving rise to a report that the negotiations had been held on the conveniently neutral ground of the U. S. Embassy.

Meanwhile Sumner Welles continued his overshadowed way. Last week when he got to Paris there were 200 mobile guards at the Gare de Lyon, 200 extra plainclothesmen, military motorcyclists to escort him to the Ritz Hotel. The Renault he rode in had steel armor, bulletproof glass, bulletproof tires. Paris correspondents, noting that George VI had received just such elaborate precautions, rushed 50 strong to his first press conference, where polite Sumner Welles reduced them to silence by saying that he could say nothing.

From Germany came reports that Mr. Welles had been just as big a puzzle to Germans. The New York Times's Anne O'Hare McCormick, quizzing some who had sat in on one of Welles's conversations with officials, unearthed a Nazi metaphor; Mr. Welles, they said, "seemed as objective, photographic and receptive as a wax disc."

Three days in Paris put no such impression on waxy Mr. Welles as did his volcanic interview with Hitler. Dinner and a two-hour talk with Premier Daladier brought a pungent restatement of the French point of view: that there could be no peace so long as the Nazi regime remained in power; bitter experience had revealed that Nazi pledges did not count. Crisscrossing French political and economic life, Sumner Welles saw President Lebrun, the President of the Senate, the President of the Chamber of Deputies, ex-Premier Socialist Leon Blum, the leaders of the Polish Government in exile (who hastily put together an advance copy of the Polish Black Book, which catalogues German atrocities in Poland).

To Finance Minister Paul Reynaud Mr. Welles submitted a memorandum that stated the official U. S. position on economic reconstruction after the war: 1) healthy commercial relations must be the basis of political and economic peace; 2) the prosperity of international commerce precludes exclusive discriminatory agreements between two countries; 3) if world trade is to be reconstructed after the war, it must be without resentment or fear of any nations toward others.

Flying high in a plane escorted by four French fighters and a British reconnaissance plane, Sumner Welles reached a London buzzing with talk of war with Russia (see p. 19) and asked for copies of the latest papers as he secluded himself in his hotel. Jittery London talk that a "sudden and dramatic peace move" by President Roosevelt would be unfortunate brought to a head the extraordinary rumors that have boiled up about Mr. Welles's trip. A member of the House of Commons popped up with a story that Hitler's real (and moderate) peace terms, secretly communicated to President Roosevelt, had launched the Welles mission. That was too much for Cordell Hull in Washington. "Pure moonshine," said the Secretary of State.

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