Where Is the Fleet?

Last week U.S. citizens-usually with an air of don't-look-now-but-don't-get-excited—asked an astonishing question. They said: "Where is the Fleet?"

That was a whopper. The U.S. Fleet is not just something somebody leaves in the pocket of another pair of pants. The U.S. was a troubled nation last week, but at least part of its trouble came because it felt like a man who has mislaid a bass drum in a taxicab. The 17 battleships, seven aircraft carriers, 37 cruisers, 172 destroyers, 113 submarines and some 1,100 smaller vessels that made up the Fleet on Dec. 7 made a sizeable total to place when you were trying to remember exactly where you had been the night before.

Even Senators joined in the questioning. Congressmen, specialists in naval affairs, asked with quiet fury: "Where is the Navy? Tell me that? Do you know? What's it doing?" There was a widespread ripple of emotion throughout the country last week at the fall of Manila (see p. 19). But the U.S. can expect stronger waves of emotion in this war-grief, rage, hate and elation. Last week a dominant emotion was bewilderment.

Other, lesser U.S. possessions seemed to have been mislaid also. Where were the rubber tires? (see p. 15). Westbrook Pegler solemnly proposed death—the treatment for horse thieves in the Old West—for such U.S. curs as stole tires. Liberal journals thundered at Jesse Jones: "Where are our tin factories?" The Auto Workers Union thundered (in half-page advertisements) at "Mr. OPM." One thunderclap: "Where is the Reuther Plan?" Samuel Grafton, most belligerent columnar thunderer for the New Deal, thundered at the State Department (for protesting the Free French seizure of St. Pierre and Miqueloa): "Where Is Our Foreign Policy?"

The symbol of U.S. confidence was Senator Alben Barkley. Said he, with majestic self-control: "We have steeled ourselves to expect some temporary reverses. . . ." The image of the strange, W. C. Fields-like dignity which gripped much of the U.S. was Senator Tom Connally. Said he, transcending the headlines of the week: "Experts for years have regarded the Philippines as a military liability. . . ."

Bewildered or not, the U.S. was also working. A symbol of its working attitude was Robert Price (see cut), a lathe operator for Allis-Chalmers, who rushed to the factory in his full dress and topper from a New Year's party. In a huge Packard factory in Detroit, making parts for Rolls-Royce Merlin aircraft engines, one good union man, tuxedo-clad, ran his machine through the dawn of the New Year.