Back in Uniform

To the rostrum in the Kremlin's Great Hall waddled a stumpy figure in the dark green of a Soviet lieutenant general and sporting a chestful of medals. Sure enough, it was Nikita Khrushchev, epigrammatist, agriculturist, commissar, statesman--and now, it seemed, officially a war hero. It was the 20th anniversary of Hitler's invasion of Russia. According to the new history of World War II just off the press, none other than Nikita pressed Stalin in vain to change his tactics before the Nazis attacked in 1941. And who saved Stalingrad? "Great meritorious service in that connection was performed by N. S. Khrushchev," political commissar on the Stalingrad front. With this advance buildup, the thousands in the audience gave Old Soldier Khrushchev round after round of cheers as he loosed his latest series of blasts at the West.

The main blast virtually destroyed the few remaining hopes that Moscow might agree to a ban on nuclear-weapons testing. To President Kennedy's warning that the U.S. might have to begin testing again if no agreement is reached in Geneva, Khrushchev retorted: "Such threats will frighten no one. We must warn these gentlemen: the moment the United States resumes nuclear explosions, the Soviet Union will promptly start testing its nuclear weapons. The Soviet Union has quite a few devices that have been worked out and need practical testing." In fact, said Khrushchev, echoing an argument often made by protesting U.S. officials, a failure to match test with test "would damage the defense potential of our country."

No Bases? Khrushchev pretended to be especially upset that the U.S. had responded to Russia's peace-loving overtures by raising its military budget. "This," cried Nikita, "may confront the Soviet Union with the necessity of likewise increasing its armament appropriations . . . and the strength of its armed forces." Russia, after all, had reduced its own troop levels. "We have pulled out of all our military bases abroad," he added without a trace of a smile, ignoring the huge Soviet garrisons in East Germany, Poland and Hungary, the supply planes in Laos, and the Soviet arms buildup in faraway Cuba.

To the noisy applause of the dozens of marshals, generals, admirals and war veterans arrayed behind the speaker's stand, Khrushchev repeated his grim warning of changes to come for West Berlin, suggesting that these really were needed to safeguard world peace. "The Soviet people do not want war . . . For the sake of this, toward the end of this year, we, together with other peace-loving states, will sign a peace treaty with the German Democratic Republic . . . We do not threaten West Berlin . . . we propose a free city status for it!"

Dawn Practice. The West's political experts studied Nikita's latest words and pondered schemes to head Moscow off. In Washington, a task force headed by former Secretary of State Dean Acheson debated a partial mobilization of U.S. military reserves as a means both of making explicit Western determination and alerting the British and U.S. public to the chance of war. NATO planners talked of regrouping divisions into combat positions along the West German border. It was also likely that the U.N. would be called on to help if the crisis gets near flash point. But no final decisions had been made; everything awaited more evidence of Nikita Khrushchev's real intentions. There were many who felt certain that he was hoping to win his way through noise and bluster, had no intention of pushing his demands to the point of war.

In any case, doughty old Chancellor Konrad Adenauer was not intimidated by Khrushchev's special message to him ("If you unleash a war, it will be your suicide"). He went right ahead with plans to visit West Berlin in mid-July--a comforting gesture to the city's 2,200,000 people who live no miles from the nearest Western frontier. Surrounding the West Berliners are the 65,000 armed troops of the East German army, not to mention Russia's own 300,000 battle-ready soldiers who occupy East Germany permanently. As if to underline their presence, joint Russian-East German army maneuvers earlier this month drew the top brass from Moscow, including Defense Minister Rodion Malinovsky, to the Elbe River region through which most of West Berlin's convoys to the West must travel.

The Western allies' 12,000 troops in the West Berlin garrison would be no match for the Communists in a fight; it is their symbolic presence that counts, for if they fight, the entire strength of the West will be behind them. Last week, to show the flag, virtually all West Berlin's 5,000 American combat soldiers were hauled out of bed at 5 o'clock one morning and rushed to their positions in a practice alert. Troop carriers sped from the barracks, tanks rumbled to strategic intersections, and machine-gun posts were set up in the streets. West Berlin civilians on their way to work gawked, first with curiosity, then with comfort and satisfaction. This was one town where it was always nice to have the G.I.s around.

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