Too Many Fronts?

Wrote Pundit Walter Lippmann last week: "We and the British are trying to make everything secure, which means that we are dispersing our forces and fighting on lines of communication which are so monstrously extended that our navies and our shipping cannot possibly be adequate. At the same time, for political reasons, we are not concentrating our force for effective action in the one theater of the war, namely western Europe, where our communications are the shortest, the strategic position the most favorable and the gains to be obtained by strong action in conjunction with Russia the largest and the most immediate."

The map spoke eloquently for an Allied offensive in Europe. There the Allies would be closer to their own bases, closer to the enemy, than in the Pacific. In France or Norway the Allies, at least at the start, would find defending forces weakened by the Russian campaign's demands on Hitler (see p. 23). They also would find welcoming, Nazi-hating populations, instead of the uncertain, imperialized hordes of the Indies, Malaya, India. In Britain the Allies had their one concentration of land and air force in sufficient strength to strike decisively. In Ireland the U.S. had the beginnings of such a force--a force which, if quickly and strongly reinforced, could be turned from just one more dabble of "too few, too far, too late" into an offensive army.

Finally, a blow at Germany's western flank would not be entirely detached from the Pacific war. Such a blow, whether through France or Norway, would delay--and might avert--a Nazi drive through the Near and Middle East toward a junction with Japan in India. To have Russia in the war against Japan would be worth fleets and armies to the U.S. And it seemed last week that only two things--an Allied second front in Europe or Japanese attack on Russia--could bring Russia into the Pacific war.

World Tour. So ran the arguments for western Europe as the front where the U.S. and its allies should concentrate. But could the U.S. do it? The sober fact was that the U.S. had already committed its strength to more fronts than it could now effectively defend, much less use for simultaneous offensives:

> U.S. troops and some equipment had arrived in Australia (see p. 20). The first ebullient unofficial accounts made these forces out to be strong, mightily equipped, perhaps enough to make a real difference in the battle for Australia. The Army's communique spoke only of "considerable numbers," gave no exact information as to strength. But if the Japs should enter Australia this week, they would find, on a slightly larger scale, the story of Java, where a few U.S. bombers had too little fighter protection, where a few hundred artillerymen were the sole ground troops.

The U.S. proposes to defend Australia for two reasons: 1) to keep open at least the southern half of the Indian Ocean and its approaches from the South Atlantic (see map); 2) to base a counteroffensive against the Indies, Malaya and Japan itself. The first reason is compelling. But the real value of southern Australia's distant ports and cities for counterassault is open to argument (see p. 17).

> The R.A.F.'s commander in India announced that the U.S. had established an air staff there (probably under Major General Lewis Hyde Brereton, who had been in Java). Air Marshal Sir Richard E. C. Peirse also said that U.S. planes are arriving for the India-Burma front, are being equally distributed between British, U.S. and Indian squadrons. The U.S. is sending a mission to India to survey its long-range production possibilities. If India is to be saved, huge reinforcements of men, arms and planes must arrive soon.

General Sir Archibald Wavell, the Allies' commander in India, last week gave some doleful indications of the state of India's naval defenses, its big, but underarmed and undertrained, native Army. He also drew a lesson for India--and the U.S.--from Malaya and Burma. Said he: "We were insufficiently prepared; reinforcements were late and insufficiently trained. . . . I can assure you the authorities are fully alive to the reasons, and are taking to heart the causes and the lessons of these failures. . . ."

> Alaska's civilian and military officials are crying for more reinforcements. The Pacific Coast is screaming. London heard rumors last week that a Nazi attack on U.S. forces in Iceland is imminent. Hawaii's civilian Governor Joseph B. Poindexter broadcast a frantic reminder to the U.S. that Hawaii must be held; he did not sound as if he were satisfied with its present defenses, although they have been strengthened since Pearl Harbor. Gallant U.S. forces still hold Midway; four U.S. fighters there shot down a Japanese patrol bomber last week. Across the Pacific from Hawaii to New Zealand is a belt of island stations; both the Navy and Army have strained recently to put holding forces along this supply route to Australia.

"The Best." All of these places were "vital." India had to be held, not only for itself but for China. None could dispute Australia's Prime Minister John Curtin when he told the U.S. that in defending his land he defended U.S. shores (see p. 27). The loss of Alaska would be an unthinkable disaster. Iceland might well be the final factor in the Battle of the Atlantic. With Hawaii lost, the Pacific war might be finally lost.

All these were chill facts. Colder was the fact that the U.S. and its allies must concentrate somewhere. The U.S. lacks the forces to concentrate everywhere. A cold and offensive warrior, the U.S. Fleet's Commander in Chief Ernest Joseph King, said last week: "We've got to have more planes, more warships, more guns, more of everything. Meanwhile . . . we are going to do the best we can with what we've got."

If the U.S. best is dispersed too widely and too far, Admiral King may never get his additional planes and warships and guns. Perhaps he and the U.S. will have to choose a place where they can win with what they have in 1942.

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