(4 of 5)
Tough Miles. Looking south last week Japan's soldiers and sailors saw an Anglo-Dutch line of defense running for nearly one-seventh of the earth's circumference: down 400 miles of treacherous Malay coastline to the forbidding hinge at Singapore, then 3,000 miles out into the southeast until it reached the barbarous fringes of the Netherlands domain. The Japanese generals and admirals might even decide to by-pass Singapore for the time being, to take a fling directly at the Indies. If it succeeded, Japan would be safe; if it failed, Japan was through. It would be as desperate a gamble as the Spanish Armada, and just as pregnant with destiny.
The Dutch, though now armed, could not defend New Guinea or Celebes; the Japanese might also take some smaller island such as Bali with its classically breasted maidens. But the three key islands, Borneo, Sumatra and Java, were tough porcupines to grab. Granted Japan's estimated 2,000,000 tons of available shipping could transport between 100,000 and 200,000 men, with their equipment, across 2.800 miles of the China Sea, a landing on Borneo might be successful. But the oil wells of Borneo were prepared for instant destruction, and the Dutch have sworn to destroy them if need be. Java, citadel of the Indies defense, held the bulk of an Army of 100,000 (native and European), the bulk of the new Air Force, old but fixed coastal defenses, an arsenal. And Sumatra was just as tough, with one half sheltered by Malaya, the other half lying in the strategic domain of the mighty fortress of Singapore.
Though the Japanese would be superior in men, material and ships, they would be matched in air power and underwater strength. Yet time urged them on. By October monsoon winds would blow into action, lashing the east coast of Malaya and the Indies with turbulent waters. Landing under such difficulties would double the risk. The monsoon for the admirals was a time limit almost as compelling as the Siberian winter for the generals. In another six months, by April., when the monsoons are over, the Netherlands Indies might be almost impregnable.
American Dutchman. The most important Netherlander save Queen Wilhelmina, the man who got for his colonial homestead the time to prepare its defense, is more like an American than a Dutchman. Not only does he speak English, with an American accent, he plays golf and smokes Camels. He has a town house in Batavia and a country house not far away, where he and his charming Dutch wife often entertain visiting diplomats and journalists. Among their close friends are U.S. Consul General Walter A. Foote and his wife.
In outlook, too, Mr. van Mook is American. He has strong convictions on the part the U.S. must play in the ultimate Pacific settlement. He believes in broadening the base of government, eventually to admit the natives to suffrage. Says he of the world of the future, raising a finger at the colonial conservatives who had so heartily disapproved of him during his political period:
"Neither the speculator who by playing the markets can endanger the existence of thousands of producers, nor the leaders of these economic enterprises about whom, neither the shareholders nor the authorities can make inquiries, will be able to find this form of irresponsible freedom in the new society.