The Hidden Civil War by Wood Gray New York: The Viking Press. 314 pages. $3.75. Abraham Lincoln and the Fifth Column by George Fort Milton New York: The Vanguard Press. 368 pages. $3.50. In April 1941, when President Roosevelt called Charles Lindbergh a Copperhead, the newspapers were careful to explain who the Copperheads were. Now for the first time these Civil War fifth-columnists have been made the subject of full-length historical studies for the general reader. It is clear enough that Lincoln's Copperheads were more formidable than any that Roosevelt has yet had to face.
THE HEARTBREAKING PROBLEM for the United States in this war is the fact that we are forced to fight on every front simultaneously before we are really ready to fight on any one of them. We are forced to fight on all fronts partly for military reasons and partly for political ones: without passing judgment on the desirability of defending Australia at this moment, one may say that it was politically impossible not to aid her to a substantial extent; and the same is true of some other areas.
THE GREAT DAY arrives. “I christen thee Western Light!” the woman cries.
WHAT HAS HAPPENED to gas warfare? Will gas be used before the war ends? These questions have been asked for the past two year and it is more important than ever now for us to know the answers. If gas is to be used, we must be prepared for it. If there is little chance of chemical warfare, we need not worry about gas masks, decontamination materials and all the complicated and expensive business of gas defense, but may use our energy for other important work. Until Japan entered the war the question, “Why hasn’t gas been used?” was a good one.
IN THE MIDST of the storm and the thunder, the lightning strikes. American industry and the press have demanded of labor whether, after opposing a cut in wages, it dares to look General MacArthur in the face.
THIS IS A TIME of storm and smoke; of darkness, as Carl Sandberg found the time of Lincoln to be. Death is in the air. So is birth. Within the body of our wartime world we can feel the life of the future stirring. Beneath the sound of the guns, we can hear its first, protesting cries. In fury, all the forces of the past are raining their blows upon it. We bear it fearfully, seeking to shield and cherish it. Yet we forget the astonishing strength of the will to live with which all forms of life come into being. We stand in shyness before the future that we carry within us.