Monday, Jul. 24, 1950

The Kidding Stopped

Before anyone had said so officially, without needing someone to spell it out, the U.S. people had realized that this was going to be a long pull and a tough one. Said one veteran: "At first, all of us were sort of kidding about it, saying 'Well, are you ready to go?' Now the kidding has stopped." Last week, looking at the news pictures as the First Marine Division embarked at San Diego, every veteran was wondering: How soon will they want me?

The whole nation had the air of a man waiting. The economy twitched a little, nervously. With reflexes conditioned by World War II, consumers started a rush on cars, tires, nylons, washing machines and refrigerators, soap and even toilet paper. (A Chillicothe, Mo. man wrote his grocer: "Give me 100 pounds of sugar before those hoarders get it.")

Harry Truman wore his air of determined calm, but there were changes in his crowded routine. His calling list still included old cronies from Kansas City but the unlisted callers were more important. Secretary of State Acheson and Defense Secretary Louis Johnson dropped in almost at will. Every morning at 9--after the walk, after the breakfast swim and massage--he got a briefing from J.C.S. Chairman Omar Bradley (see cover). And he had issued orders to ring the telephone beside his bed at any time of night if there was important news.

The Rev. Dr. Billy Graham, agleam in a pistachio-colored suit and white shoes, called to warn him that the U.S. people are gripped by "a fear you could almost call hysteria" and suggested the President proclaim a national day of prayer and humiliation. Mildly, Harry Truman told Graham that the answers to today's problems were found in the Sermon on the Mount, particularly the Seventh Beatitude: "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God." Billy emerged pleased; but there would be no national day of humiliation.

At week's end, Harry Truman shut himself off from routine. He studied the reports of his advisers, planned and considered in the awful loneliness of responsibility. This week he went to Congress to ask what everyone knew had to be asked --more men (including National Guard units); more controls (on credit, and on allocations of scarce materials); more money. There was little question that he would get what he asked.

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