(2 of 5)
After his defeat for Governor of New York in 1910, President Taft made Stimson his War Secretary. In the War Department still hangs the portrait of Henry L. Stimson, Secretary of War (1911-1913). A year ago when Henry Stimson sat down at the same felt-covered desk that he occupied 30 years ago, young officers looked at that portrait and winced. There is an immense difference between being Secretary of War and Secretary of a War. An old man of 73 was called to take that far harder assignment, and a year ago all that the old new Secretary had in his cupboard to start with was red tape and the skeleton of an army.
Last week the strength of the Army was 1,545,400 officers and men. In a year it had grown more than fivefold. In its growth there had been mistakes, some unavoidable, some forced by a wavering Congress, some plain results of stupidity. But as of last week the Army was well-housed. From the beginning it had been well-fed. For its training—far from complete and still hampered by shortages of equipment—it is getting more practical field exercises than any U.S. Army ever had before. Its physical condition is superb. Some of its divisions are readier for combat service than any sent to Europe in 1917.
When credit is being handed out for this tremendous basic achievement, the Secretary of War will get a great slice.
That is not the sort of achievement which could have been expected under the political Secretaries who preceded Stimson—men like Weeks, Good, Hurley, Dern, Woodring. Most of the political department heads either meddled witlessly or let the Army run itself while they busied themselves with other things.
In spite of Washington whisperings about his age, principally on his own Republican side of Congress, Henry Lewis Stimson runs the Army. He probably lives closer to its high command than any Secretary since Newton D. Baker. Among Army men he is classed with the best Secretaries they have had in modern War Department history: Baker and Elihu Root.
Close to the Job. Typical of his operation was his decision when the shining new War Department building on Washington's Virginia Avenue was opened two months ago. Its broad halls and stately offices were a beacon for any man who loves comfort and elegance. Many of the civilians in the department moved to the new building. But Henry Stimson hung on to his old office in the rabbit warren of the rambling Munitions building where most of the Army's Washington soldiers work.
There, in a working day from 9 to 5, he consults, advises, orders. Three or four times a day he confers with the Army's Chief of Staff, able General George Marshall. He simply steps through the door into the next room where hard-working George Marshall sits.
Stimson is on the job all the time. He knows everything that goes on in his department and in the course of a year has missed only three Cabinet meetings. His appointment book, meticulously kept, is like the schedule of a fast train, by the minute:
> "11:04, conference with Judge Advocate General reference court-martial cases;
> "12:10, conference with General A. D. Surles director of public relations;
> "12:42, received daily report on War Dept. staff matters from head of Statistical Div. General Staff;" etc.