Sort of a Scandal

Never tangle with the National Guard.

They have you surrounded.

--Old Pentagon Maxim

That old maxim-masher, Defense Secretary Charles Erwin Wilson, tangled with the National Guard last week. He was telling the House Armed Services Committee about the Administration's directive requiring future National Guard recruits to undergo six months of full-time military training--a plan that the politically influential Guard opposes as a hindrance to enlistments. "You know," he volunteered, "the thing was really sort of a scandal during the Korean war. It was a draft-dodging business. A boy of 17 to 18 1/2 could enlist in the National Guard and not be drafted and sent to Korea and fight."

The hearing almost broke up right then, as reporters bolted for telephones. And as soon as Engine Charlie's latest hit the front pages, the predictable sound-off began in virtually every state. Some called Charlie's statement asinine, illadvised, ridiculous, foolish and absurd. Georgia's governor rapped it as "a dastardly slur," Wyoming's as "an un-American utterance." Major General (ret.) Ellard A. Walsh, 69, president of the potent National Guard Association, called it "a damned lie." The South Carolina house of representatives passed a resolution declaring it an "insult" to the state, and the Rhode Island senate passed one calling it "a gross and unwarranted insult" to the Guard. On Capitol Hill, a New Mexico Representative pronounced Wilson "the weakest link in our defense," and Oregon's Senator Wayne Morse declared in a floor speech that the Secretary "was never qualified for his job."

In the hubbub, nobody paid much attention to the Ohio Guard major who told a newsman: "Hell, that's how we recruited them during the Korean war--told them they could stay home longer."*

Indignant Wife. At his midweek press conference, the President himself retreated strategically under the fire that Charlie had drawn. The Secretary of Defense, he said, measuring his words carefully, "was short-cutting and making a very, I think, unwise statement." Young men who enlisted in the Guard during the Korean war could not be called "slackers," Ike declared, because they had done so "in accordance with the law." But the National Guard, he added--quietly making Charlie's real point all over again--"is never going to be the kind of force we need until we get these recruits having at least six months of good, hard basic training."

Next day Wilson's wife Jessie, just back from the Washington hospital where she underwent treatment for an ulcer, spoke up with a frankness worthy of her husband. She was "indignant" about the President's comment, she told the Washington Star's enterprising Newshen Isabelle Shelton. "I think the President should have stood back of Mr. Wilson instead of spending his time commenting on how wonderful Foster Dulles has been. I think Foster Dulles is a good man too, but I don't think that he has done any better than a lot of other men." Her husband, she said, "is a blunt man. He speaks what he thinks." And with a noble and unswerving wifely loyalty that clearly marked Charlie Wilson as a true prophet in his own house, she added: "Most of the time what he thinks is true." Asked whether she wished that Charlie would resign from the Cabinet, Jessie Wilson said yes. "He has earned the right to take it easy now," she explained. Then she touched off a furor of her own: "A good many of the Cabinet feel the same way. They have worked hard for four years, and they think the time has come to turn things over to others."

Breaking Point. As for herself, "I've stood back and listened to criticism until I'm tired of it. Up to now I've been very, very careful not to make any criticism of any kind. But you reach a point sometimes--and this was it." Perhaps, she added, if she had reached it sooner she might not have had an ulcer.

After hearing from Jessie, reporters for the first time in years began dialing Cabinet wives, asking if they would like to see their husbands resign. Pamela Humphrey (Treasury) and Isabelle Mitchell (Labor) were out of town. Janet Dulles (State), Jane Weeks (Commerce) and Mary Folsom (Health, Education and Welfare) declined to comment, but four wives had something to say and no hesitation in saying it. Flora Benson (Agriculture): "As long as the President wants my husband to remain in Washington, I will be happy to stay here." Gladys Seaton (Interior): "I endorse Mrs. Benson's sentiment." Miriam Summerfield (Post Office): "We've had a wonderful experience here, very interesting, very challenging." Doris Brownell (Justice): "We've enjoyed it and we intend to enjoy it."

South from the Battlefield. Feet on his desk, Charlie Wilson laughed delightedly when he read newspaper accounts of his wife's defense and the echoing uproar. But he seemed to feel no need for defenders. Good-naturedly but firmly, he held his ground, conceding only that his language was "a little tough" and that he never meant to cast "any reflection on the individual young men who joined the National Guard during the Korean conflict." He kept right on plugging the six-months-training directive, pointing out that "more than 80% of the National Guard today has had no prior military training."

At week's end Charlie Wilson retired from the battlefield for a while. He and Jessie joined the boss aboard the presidential plane, Columbine III, for a trip south. Ike was heading for a Georgia golf weekend, the Wilsons for a two-week Florida vacation. Asked why he was accompanying the President, Wilson replied: "I was invited along." Jessie Wilson smiled amiably, this time said nothing.

*After the outcry last week, the San Diego recruiting office of the California National Guard posted a sign reading DRAFT DODGERS ENLIST HERE, later reported that enlistments picked up.

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