Ever since the Ottoman Empire's European frontiers began to recede toward Asia, the Balkans have been more or less in an uproar. The Greeks, Serbs, Croats, Montenegrins, Macedonians, Bulgars, Albanians, Rumanians all had their go at the Sultan and then fell to fighting among themselves. Half the time these little nations fought as the puppets of greater European Powers, and the Peninsula's reputation as the tinderbox of Europe was well-earned.
In time the more knowledgeable Balkanese got sick & tired of wars. It was largely as an expression of this feeling that in 1934 four Balkan nations—Turkey, Yugoslavia, Greece and Rumania—formed the Balkan Entente. The Entente's simple, appealing slogan: "The Balkans for the Balkanese." At first it attracted little attention. But as the Nazi shadow lengthened over Europe, as Hitler crushed the French-backed Little Entente (Rumania, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia), as the Great Powers began to bid more strongly for alliances, secret understandings, greater trade, the Balkan Entente became a matter of gravest international concern.
Last week the Entente's Council—composed of the Foreign Ministers of the four participating nations—held their annual meeting at Belgrade. The circumstances could not have been more different from the inconspicuousness with which the four nations first signed the Non-Aggression Balkan Pact at Athens in 1934. With World War II on, big Powers were pulling strings harder than ever.
Germany not only depends upon her Balkan supplies for the war, but must increase them. The Soviet Union still looks upon Rumania's Bessarabia as a part of Russia, feels a kinship toward the Balkans' huge Slavic population. Italy regards the Balkans as her natural Lebensraum. The Allies would like nothing better than to get Germany or the U. S. S. R. involved in the Balkans so that they would have an open war front for their Armies in southeastern Europe.
Thus the four Balkan statesmen who sat down alone in the Council Chambers of Yugoslavia's Foreign Office and talked together without even a stenographer present to take down their thoughts (and possibly to let them leak out later) suddenly became Europe's biggest news.
Belgrade had never had such a weekend. Her hotels and restaurants swarmed with visitors. Unprecedentedly present were some 200 foreign newsmen. Spies, "observers." diplomats were also on hand in bulk to: 1) circulate rumors favorable to their countries; 2) pickupstraybitsof information; 3) watch enemy spies, "observers," diplomats.
Shokru Saracoglu, Turkish Foreign Minister, arrived after a day's stop off at Sofia, where he tried to thaw out Bulgaria's lingering coldness to the other Balkan powers, most of whom have stolen territory from her. M. Saracoglu, veteran of a recent three-week diplomatic scuffle at Moscow and framer of the Turkish-Allied military alliance, was accused of unnecessary bluntness before he left Ankara. He publicly said what everybody knew privately anyway—that "our country is not neutral, but is merely out of the war." Rumor had it that the Foreign Minister was cooking up a deal between Bulgaria and Rumania whereby King Carol would appease King Boris by handing back a small strip of the Dobruja territory Bulgaria has long demanded. Thereafter Bulgaria would join the Entente.