Snafu

The Army has a laconic term for chronic befuddlement: snafu.* Last week U.S. citizens knew that gasoline rationing and rubber requisitioning were snafu. For months the people and their leaders had pussyfooted around the twin horrors. There were orders and counter-orders. All were different. The people, numb with bewilderment, choked with wrath, gave up.

The time seemed ripe for a stroke of lightning to clear the air. Instead, confusion was compounded. Samples:

> Motorists in 17 East Coast States, whose ration cards expire July 1, were told the whole setup would be changed, that they must reregister. And new cards had not yet gone to the printer.

> Two months ago, WPB ordered gasoline imports to Oregon and Washington cut by one-third. Then it was decided to cut it by one-half. Last week WPB went back to its first ultimatum.

> In the Midwest, threatened gas rationing kicked up a violent storm. Some citizens thought the war would soon be ended, saw no reason for rationing.

> In San Francisco, where there was no lack of war awareness, motor dealers advertised : "Rationing is not necessary . . . California must fight for its right."

Perplexed and agitated, people simply did not yet believe that lack of rubber made nationwide gas rationing a necessity. WPBoss Donald Nelson told them so for the umpteenth time. But up rose Oilman Alfred M. Landon to say: "It is not yet definite whether it is rubber or gasoline the Administration is trying to save."

Where's the Goat? In Washington, people got little aid from their representatives. Convinced that gas rationing was misunderstood and unpopular, Senators and Representatives got in tune, lashed out against it. But they had no single goat. Whom were they to blame? Price Boss Leon Henderson? Oil Coordinator Harold Ickes? Donald Nelson?

> Crusty, grumpy Senator "Cotton Ed" Smith loudly proclaimed himself a "conscientious objector" to all forms of rationing. Said he: "Why, they even tell me they're taking ruffles off ladies' lingerie. Who in hell expects to win a war that way. . . ."

> One hundred Congressmen met in caucus, demanded Congress be given full facts, battered away at Leon Henderson. Said Tennessee's Republican John Jennings Jr.: "... a smart aleck . . . dictator."

> Nine Senators, mostly from oil-producing States, banded together, said they would fight nationwide rationing.

In the President's Lap. Amid the Babel of statements, the fine frenzy, Franklin Roosevelt, finally sniffing a Congressional revolt, summoned eleven rationing bigwigs to the White House. After listening, instead of taking a clear-cut stand, he took an easier road, indicated approval of a drive for rubber scrap. Probable "action": a Presidential fireside chat.

* Situation normal; all fouled up.

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