Five Old Men

One grey morning last week, as the rain beat down on southern France, three old men set out on a journey. For over a year Edouard Daladier, Leon Blum and Maurice Gustave Gamelin had been held at Riom, charged with the guilt of France's destruction. Now, with their trial fixed for Jan. 15, they were sped by automobile south to Portalet Fortress. There, two days later, they were joined by two other statesmen of the French Republic: Georges Mandel and Paul Reynaud.

In Portalet Fortress, gouged into a narrow chasm-side of the deep Pyrenees, they would read, ponder documents, peer out of windows through which-the sun never shines. Twice each day, in solitude, they would be permitted to pace the terrace above the gloomy, turreted fort.*

As they reflected on the dreary span of French history arched by their lives, they knew themselves prejudged. Trial proceedings, it was announced, would be published only as they touched on France's unpreparedness for war. Discussion of the origins of the war would be strictly secret. Thus Frenchmen would be told only that they were summoned to die almost weaponless by the leaders who were on trial. Frenchmen would learn nothing of the forces that compelled these old men to lead a weak, ailing nation to doom.

-- Not General Gamelin, said the Germans. D.N.B.

reported this week that the General had been taken to a hospital with erysipelas.

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