TROUBLE IS BREWING

Sir James Richard Stanhope, 7th Earl Stanhope, now First Lord of the Admiralty, is noted for his outspokenness, rashness, indiscretion. Once in 1915 he went straight from Flanders and without changing from his muddy kit appeared in the House of Lords to tell publicly just what was wrong with the ammunition supply system serving the troops in France and Belgium. Former Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin (now Earl Baldwin) called him "that good man Jim Stanhope" and took him under his political wing, but Lord Baldwin also saw to it that important statements made by Friend Jim (who was then First Commissioner of Works) were written in advance and carefully checked for impetuosity.

Last week, on one of those days when international alarms flew thick & fast, the First Lord had occasion to speak extemporaneously. The First Lord was spending a social evening on His Majesty's aircraft carrier Ark Royal, anchored off Portsmouth. There was nothing unusual about the gathering except that there were present fewer officers than usual, more empty seats. Chief entertainment was a new British cinema, Trouble Is Brewing. The picture over, Lord Stanhope stepped to a platform in front of a curtain on which was painted a likeness of Dopey, Dwarf No. 7 in Walt Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. From one angle it even looked as if Dopey were whispering into Lord Stanhope's right ear (see cut). Prompted or not, the First Lord proceeded to explain the empty seats:

"Shortly before I left the Admiralty it became necessary to give orders to man anti-aircraft guns of the fleet so as to be ready for anything that might happen. Long before guests came aboard this ship 16 anti-aircraft guns could have given a warm welcome to anyone who happened to come this way."

The news was flashed to every newspaper in London. No editor could fail to grasp its meaning: the Navy was acutely fearful of being bombed. Leader articles were quickly written. Appearing soon in London were such headlines as "All Anti-Aircraft Guns in Fleet Manned." Then over tickers in every Fleet Street news office came a notice:

"Private and confidential memo to editor. We are asked by the Admiralty to issue the following 'D' notice: In the national interests the speech of Lord Stanhope, First Lord of the Admiralty, in the Ark Royal tonight should not be published."

Censorship? To every British editor an Admiralty "D" notice is something he must obey or risk prosecution under the Official Secrets Act. Hangover from the World War, the "D" notice is often used on news of warship movements, and was prominently used in 1935 during the Ethiopian crisis, when newspapers were ordered not to print the departure of the British fleet to the Mediterranean. No "D" or any other kind of order, however, has ever been issued forbidding the report of a responsible Cabinet Minister's speech; in fact, such an order seemed a clear infraction of freedom of the press.

The Times and Telegraph & Morning Post obediently printed no word of the speech. The Daily Express carried the speech for one edition, then wavered and cut it out altogether in a second, in a third merely hinted at it. The Daily Mail first quoted Lord Stanhope's words, then withdrew the quotes but not the story. Only the Liberal News Chronicle decided to publish story and quotes. The news was a shock to the public, an alarming indication of how close the Government believed war might be and how unheralded its arrival.

Next day Lord Stanhope appeared early at No. 10 Downing Street for a 4O-minute interview with Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain. Later both went to Parliament. In the House of Commons Opposition members emphatically wanted to know: 1) what Lord Stanhope's revelations meant; 2) how the Government could justify such a censorship of the press. Deputy Labor Leader Arthur Greenwood pointedly asked Mr. Chamberlain if he thought Lord Stanhope was a "fit person to hold an important office."

"Regrets." From Mr. Chamberlain came handsome apologies. His "noble friend's" words, the Prime Minister conceded, were "not very happily chosen." The fleet is always ready for emergencies, particularly in times of tension. In a mood reminiscent of Stanley Baldwin, who was never happier than when confessing to errors, Mr. Chamberlain himself took full blame for sending out the "D" order, admitted it was a mistake caused by a desire to "spare the public unnecessary agitation."

Blunder or not, the noble friend's slip confirmed other developments. Although most of the fleet was anchored for the Easter holiday off British bases, other warships have already quietly taken up patrol duty in the North Sea. At military airports there was great activity. Sea approaches to Britain have again been mined, as they were last September.

Lightning. More specific reason for the manning of naval anti-aircraft came in another official leak. INS Correspondent H. R. Knickerbocker reported that the British Admiralty apparently had learned of Nazi plans for a "demonstration" bombing flight of 500 German planes just to give Britons some idea of what might be in store for them later. The Admiralty was evidently convinced that German military leaders would try out the Douhet "lightning stroke air attack" theory of war and that the first stroke would be an attempt to immobilize the British Home Fleet.

Night attack from the air while warships are at sea is not very feasible. But where ships lie close together in harbor the chances of hits from the air are much greater. Even a bomb exploding in the water 50 ft. from a ship acts as a depth charge and may do serious damage.

ARP. No more reassuring was the Government's own ARP (Air Raids Precaution) work last week. At the Admiralty, War Office, Home Office, Works Department and Scotland Yard, men worked three eight-hour shifts. Basements were reconstructed as living quarters, electric kitchens installed, stores of food laid in. Every doorway has been gasproofed and rooms and passages have been equipped with bulkhead doors.

Enrolled in the civilian ARP now are 1,850,000 air-raid wardens, decontamination squads, auxiliary firemen, first-aid workers. Machinery is ready to evacuate 2,500,000 children and 500,000 accompanying adults from big cities in 36 hours. Some 50,000 special evacuation trains have been earmarked. School children from five to 15, each carrying an identification label, are ready to march in groups of 50 with their teachers to the trains. Those under five will go with their mothers. Hospital equipment, staffs and patients will be moved to country hospitals, and London's hospitals will become only first-aid centres immediately war starts. In London about 500 anti-aircraft guns are ready. In British parks are some 1,000 trenches covered with steel or reinforced concrete.

Punch-drunk? The public in Britain was far calmer last week than during September. Crowds waited in Downing Street but no mass hysteria developed. Mr. Chamberlain waved at London's Easter visitors as if nothing at all was occurring. But to foreigners it also seemed that the British people had become punch-drunk with alarms and long tension. Most Britons had at last come to believe that war could not be put off much longer. In that belief they deliberately set out to enjoy their regular four-day Easter holiday, since they might not soon have another one so carefree.

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