Frenetic fears of little neutrals in a big war are three: lest they be drawn in, lest their borders be violated, lest their peacetime economy and habits be forcibly disrupted. Last week the small neutrals were fighting their own war against war:
¶Jitteriest was the 998-square-mile Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, a peanut squeezed between the cracker-jaws of the Maginot Line and the Westwall. At Schengen, where Luxembourg tapers off to a point between the French and German borders, French and German machine gunners were separated by just 400 yards of no man's land, sat facing each other waiting for orders to fire. The Duchy ordered Schengen evacuated of all foreigners.
¶From the newspaper Der Bund in Berne, Switzerland, came the suggestion that neutrals should clearly define borders by 30-square-foot white markers every kilometre, flooded by light at night. Poor old Geneva, the funeral parlor of international hopes, could not decide whether to clothe itself in black or not. After debate, it was decided to compromise: lights till midnight, blackout after.
¶Finland's Alcohol Monopoly Board upped the already high price of liquor 50%, and was immediately charged by its akvavit and vodka-loving populace with war profiteering.
¶Tense Denmark diverted itself with the adventures of a prodigious restaurant keeper from Bogense who bet 5,000 crowns ($970) in July that in 90 days flat he could, unassisted, pull Denmark's oldest car right around the country's borders. With only three miles and 24 hours to go he stopped at an inn to celebrate the certainty of bagging his bet. He celebrated so heartily that he fell asleep, overslept, lost his bet by one hour.
Denmark was not badly off, although exports to Britain (50% of Denmark's trade) were declining. With enough gasoline for three months, Denmark locked it up, canceled private motoring. There were enough raw materials, foodstuffs, consumers goods, but Government officials said rationing might begin after September 22.
¶Sweden, anticipating the blockade, had stored two-year supplies of fats, fodder, fertilizer, but forgot gasoline, prepared to substitute charcoal gas generators for gasoline motors. Booming were iron ore shipments to Germany; hard hit were Swedish sawmills and pulp mills whose chief customers were British. Closed were big wood products factories on the Gulf of Bothnia. But Germany was trading coal from newly-seized Polish mines for Swedish fish, berries, iron ore.
¶Belgium, economically threatened, had something more serious to think about. With 30,000 unemployed, skilled workers mobilized and grumbling, coal production down, irony of war gave another turn of the screw—Belgium faced a wheat short age. Monthly consumption is 100,000 tons. Reserves approximate 200,000 tons. Big shipments from South America were detained by Britain. Three Belgium-bound shiploads of barley from North Africa were unloaded in France. Seven thousand tons of maize, destined for Antwerp, were unloaded at Lisbon. It was too early to guess how Belgium's Congo mines would fare. Meantime, while Belgian purchasing commissions raced to London, Paris, Berlin, The Hague, New York, two German purchasing agents rushed to Brussels.