INTERNATIONAL: Offensive

Last week saw the great offensive of Europe's new war. It is the war of menace and mystery, of hysteria, panic, rumor, aimed at shattering an enemy's morale as big guns shatter a fort. Last week saw the biggest battle of the war—the battle of Danzig on the Vistula, where Nazi forces had been stalemated four months by the imperturbable resistance of its Polish defenders.

There is little heroic in a war of nerves. Its assaults are vicious whispers and strident insults, currency raids, press bombardments, radio tirades; its triumphs have scarcely more grandeur than a nervous breakdown.

But last week's offensive had the sweep of a great military campaign. Resistance to it had a kind of heroism in its stolid refusal to give way to alarm. As the week wore on the grand strategy of the Axis high command became clear. Main objective was Danzig, on which the German press poured a steady fire. But as Grant pounded Richmond while Sherman swept through the South in a wide circle, the great offensive in the war of nerves was launched simultaneously on two fronts: Poland was attacked by the main army while in the Balkans assaults, feints, raids, tested the strength of the defenders. Thus it appeared that if Poland did not give way, Germany could move southeast; if Poland gave way there could be a general advance on all fronts. And like the advance forces of an army feeling out the strength of enemy positions, the purpose of the offensive was clear: it partially masked a surprise move that its directing genius had on hand; it tested each sector of the Polish, French, English defense.

But Poland did not give way. In seven days incidents and insults mounted to staggering proportions. A Polish soldier was shot because he blundered over the invisible line, as deadly as a high tension wire, that separates Poland and Danzig; two customs officers were hauled in by Danzig police; a Polish passport office was raided.

Warsaw struck back, arrested the Nazi leader of Polish Germans, disbanded pro-Nazi German organizations. And although Germany swung troops into Slovakia, P'o-land's Ambassador to the U. S., Count Jerzy Potocki, summed up Polish feeling in Washington: "Just as surely as you see me sitting here there will be a general war if Germany attempts to change the status of Danzig." Member of one of the few great Polish landowning families that fought for Polish independence, blond, fox-hunting Count Potocki had been so completely tagged as Washington's leading diplomatic socialite that his grim warning surprised reporters. Said Count Potocki: "Herr von Ribbentrop created Europe's crisis by persuading Fuhrer Hitler that Britain would not fight, ignoring Britain's realization since Munich that surrender would not mean peace."

Nor in the Balkans did the great offensive of the war of nerves find a soft spot in the defense. In Rumania, King Carol made a speech of surprising firmness, declaring that Rumanian frontiers could not be changed. In Yugoslavia, Croats and Serbs gave promise of ending their feud.

The main battle against Poland settled to a deadlock; the flank attack through the Balkans did not progress.