THE NATION: I'll Tell You Why

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The peaceful look of U.S. cities, the countryside and the beaches contrasted oddly with the ferocity of battle in Korea.

The quickening of U.S. mobilization—a gradual process, partly concealed by security rules—could hardly be seen last week in the August sun. But the quiet was deceptive: Americans cocked an anxious ear to the sounds of the battle along the Naktong. In such a week, an urbane Briton had something to say about the U.S. attitude.

Of Russia's yakking Jacob Malik (see cover), Britain's Sir Gladwyn Jebb demanded scornfully: "Are we really to believe that the boys from Iowa or Colorado who are now sitting in foxholes near Chin-ju . . . are out, like Genghis Khan, to enslave the world? Show me any one of these U.S. soldiers, Mr. President, who would rather reign in Outer Mongolia than go back to Seattle, and I will gladly concede your point about 'imperialist America.' Until then, no!"

The U.S. reputation had been earned as much by its mistakes as its successes. U.S. reluctance to exert its power and leadership, U.S. hesitancy to act decisively and consistently had cost the free world dearly in the past. From Korea last week, New York Timesman Richard J. H. Johnston reported in alarm that "the average G.I. seems not to know why he is fighting in Korea." "The recruiting posters didn't say anything about this," a young infantryman told him. "I'll fight for my country, but damned if I see why I'm fighting to save this hell hole." Perhaps Reporter Johnston didn't realize that, in a battle area, G.I.s are apt to brush off or fliply answer a question they consider too personal or too demanding. But he got a sounder answer from a veteran of the Battle of the Bulge. "I'll tell you what I'm fighting for," he said. "I'm fighting for my life." So was the U.S.; so was the free world.