The Attack Opens

A determined task force of the U.S. Navy last week declared open war on the rest of the nation's military establishment, end specifically on the new boss of the armed services, Defense Secretary Louis Johnson. Beaten and routed in the guerrilla struggle to maintain the Navy's old premerger independence, a group of officers scuttled the last semblance of service unity and prepared for unconditional political war. The chosen battlefield: the floor of Congress. The first salvo was fired by Pennsylvania's Republican Congressman James E. Van Zandt, a naval reserve captain, a veteran of both World Wars, an ex-National Commander of the Veterans of Foreign Wars.

In a statement dark with implications, Van Zandt demanded a full-scale investigation of "the unusually large purchases of aircraft [by the Air Force] from Consolidated Vultee Aircraft Corp., controlled by Floyd Odium, a contributor to the Democratic campaign, and a company of which Louis Johnson was, until three days after his nomination as Secretary of Defense, a director and Washington counsel."

Then Van Zandt sighted squarely in on the long-cigar-shaped silhouette of Con-solidated's six-engined B-36, backbone of the Air Force's strategic bombing force. Since Louis Johnson sank the Navy's supercarrier six weeks ago (TIME, May 2), and with it the Navy's hopes for a piece of the Air Force's long-range bombing mission, the Navy has stepped up its attacks on the ability of the B-36 to carry out its mission. Armed with a secret and rambling, anonymous memo which had been prepared by a cabal of naval extremists and at least one disgruntled aircraft manufacturer, Van Zandt wanted to know why the Air Force had fallen in love with the B-36, "in spite of the fact that its flying men, only a year ago, were ready to abandon Consolidated 8-363 on the ground that they were wholly unsatisfactory bombers."

The Accused. Essentially Van Zandt's accusations centered on the personal motives of three men:

Air Secretary W. Stuart Symington, under whose regime the B-36 had been developed (by better power plants, etc.) from a slow but long-range aircraft into the fastest, longest-ranged, high-altitude bomber the air arm has ever owned. Van Zandt implied that there was some kind of skulduggery behind the Air Force's decision to concentrate on the B-36. He also implied that there was a plot afoot by Consolidated to absorb its unsuccessful competitors (for airplane contracts) and that, after that, Symington would resign to become boss of the great combine. Symington ridiculed the charge. Said

Speaker Sam Rayburn: "I'll believe Stu Symington is a crook when he comes up here and tells me so."

Financier Odium, who bought control of Consolidated at a time when the Air Force was thinking of cutting back B-36 orders, and now stands to gain by the Air Force's decision to spend $500 million more on new B-36 orders and modifications (among the modifications: auxiliary wingtip jet engines).

Defense Secretary Johnson, whose Democratic Finance Committee collected Financier Odium's campaign contributions, and who authorized further B-36 contracts shortly after taking office.

Not since the black days of Teapot Dome had such grave charges and innuendoes been sounded by a responsible member of the U.S. Congress. Yet newsmen everywhere handled the charges gingerly. They were aware of the degeneration of the interservice squabbles into an eye-gouging finish fight. In the Pentagon, the security curtain clanked down abruptly. Worried staff officers warned inquiring newsmen not even to discuss the matter over the telephone, for fear of wiretapping. A stream of other rumors flooded through Washington.

Strange Assumptions. What did it all add up to? On the face of the memo furnished to Van Zandt, the charges, strewn with rumor and hearsay, and preceded by such hedges as "It is said," stated more suspicions than solid facts. If they were to be believed, the Air Force, first line of the nation's defense, was in a sorry state: its professional officers (who decide what aircraft to buy) were guilty of either corruption or of the vastest stupidity. By Congressman Van Zandt's implications they were ready to risk the nation's security and their pilots' lives in second-rate airplanes.

This week the House Armed Services Committee would meet to consider Van Zandt's demand for an investigation. The Air Force let it be known that it welcomed a full airing of the charges, and said it would rather be asked about the B-36 than any plane it owns. If the charges proved without foundation, then an investigation into who had spread the charges, and why, was due. Either way, the nation and its military establishment were in for some nasty days.

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