SCANDINAVIA: Help Wanted

The predicament of the Scandinavian States last week was far worse than that of Western Europe's Great Powers. Well might Germany tremble at the thought of Russia's controlling the rich iron mines of Sweden. Well might Great Britain fear the establishment of a Red Fleet in Norway's impregnable fiords. Italy might well look forward to Balkan aggression by a Russia secure in the north. Throughout the world, people whose faith in democracy remained might well blanch at the prospect of a totalitarian attack on the nations where democracy has been most liberally applied. But it was Sweden which owned those coveted mines, and Norway whose coastline was threatened. And it was the leaders of these peoples who, if their governments were snuffed out, would be shot in the back of the head.

Early this week Speaker Väinö Hakkila of the Finnish Diet broadcast a stirring plea for aid in which he declared that "We believe the civilized world . . . will not leave us to fight alone against an enemy more numerous than ourselves." But if Scandinavia went to the aid of Finland, it would be an invitation: 1) to Russia to move in on the north; 2) to Germany to move in on the south. There was always a chance, though slim, that Russia would be satisfied with Finland, and there was an even slimmer chance that with enough unofficial help Finland might hold Russia indefinitely. So, officially, the Scandinavian States did the only thing they felt they could do: nothing. Denmark, which is most vulnerable to a German attack, plumped hard for neutrality. Foreign Ministers Halvdan Koht of Norway and Rickard Sandier of Sweden, meeting with Denmark's Peter Munch in Oslo, agreed to pass the buck to the League of Nations. But unofficially both Norway and Sweden did all they could for Finland.

Sweden, which used to boss the Baltic and lick the Russians pretty regularly until Napoleon persuaded Denmark and Russia to gang up on her in 1808, joined Finland in mining the Gulf of Bothnia to keep the Red Navy out and Finland's supply lines open. Forty thousand more men were mobilized, bringing Sweden's armed forces to 150,000. The fortress of Boden, at the head of the Gulf of Bothnia, was reinforced with reserves. Here was the greatest Russian threat to Sweden, marked by the steady progress of a Russian column across Finland toward Tornio on the Swedish-Finnish frontier. Some 4,000 Swedes volunteered for the Finnish Army and several hundred of them last week managed to cross the frontier and join up. Even more important were the supplies rushed to Finland by Sweden's great Bofors armament works, which sent gratis 25 anti-aircraft guns originally ordered by Poland.

On the political front Sweden showed signs of toughening her stand against both Germany and Russia. At week's end Foreign Minister Sandier, whose head has been demanded by both countries because of his "pro-British policies," still carried his portfolio. All but 50 members walked out of the Chamber of Deputies when a Communist got up to speak. Named active commander in chief of all Sweden's armed forces was 62-year-old Lieut. General Olof Gerhard Thörnell, an expert on Europe's armies, who announced: "The defense of . . . the Fatherland puts everything else in the background."