Not So Bad

As night settled on the capital of all the Russias, white shirt fronts gathered in rigid radiance and evening gowns swayed scented attendance: Foreign Minister Molotov was giving a banquet for his fellow peacemakers. The dinner (caviar, pheasant, ice cream) was almost frugal by official Soviet standards, and the toasts were grimly optimistic. Said Ernie Bevin as he proffered his glass: "We four must not let the people of today or tomorrow say there were men who had a chance to save the world and muffed it."

A Plant & a Paradox. The business of saving the world progressed slowly. Yet the consensus on the past week in Moscow was: "Not too bad."

The week's biggest news was Molotov's first specific statement on Germany's political future. He started, true to form, by denouncing the Western nations' plans for a federalized Germany as a "plot to dismember" the country. But there were signs that the Russians might compromise. Molotov, suggesting that the Germans themselves fix the degree of federalization, proposed that the old Weimar Constitution be used as a basis for a new one. This drew immediate objections. Cried France's Bidault: "The ghost of the Weimar Republic will not find favor with the French people!"

Molotov and Bidault represented the two extreme positions on the matter-- and an instructive paradox. Russia, which calls itself a federation of 16 individual republics, demanded a relatively unified Germany; France, which has one of Europe's most closely centralized administrations, demanded a loose German federation. The issue was not really one of political forms: Russia wanted to curry favor with the Germans, and France in accordance with her traditional policy wanted to weaken Germany.

Tactics & Strategy. George Marshall drove himself and his colleagues hard. One incident was typical. Bevin suggested that the deputies for Austria be asked to submit their report. Molotov objected: "The Austrian deputies may not be prepared to report on such short notice." Whereupon Marshall snapped in his crispest military tone: "The American deputy will be ready." Half an hour later, the American deputy (General Mark Clark) was told at his hotel to make a progress report next day. Cried he, aghast: "We made a report on London. You mean progress here?" Then he stalked off to write a report.

Marshall scored his neatest diplomatic touchdown when Molotov accused the U.S. of holding back reparations from Germany. The Russian reported (from a document Andrei Vishinsky handed him) that Mr. John Green, of the U.S. Commerce Department, had publicly emphasized the great value of German patents which the U.S. had obtained.

George Marshall retorted that all German scientific data discovered by the U.S. was being published in pamphlets which anyone could buy, and which the U.S.S.R. had bought in large quantities. At this point, Adviser Charles P. Kindleberger dived for a briefcase, came up with a letter from Green to the State Department, complaining that the Russians had published no data whatsoever on their technological discoveries in Germany, and requesting Secretary Marshall to look into the matter at Moscow. When Marshall read that to Molotov, Vishinsky's face reddened. But he turned to his boss with a grin--which sickened and died when he saw the grim expression on Molotov's face.

That evening, at Molotov's banquet, Marshall--appropriately--wore the Order of Suvorov, awarded to him in 1944 for "strategic and tactical skill."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.