EUROPE once again is built of blocs. They had never, of course, tumbled down quite so completely as many of the West's optimistic exponents of detente had supposed. Last week, as the U.S. and Soviet Foreign Ministers addressed the United Nations' General Assembly, each enjoined the other not to intrude on his country's sphere of influence. Secretary of State Dean Rusk stressed the U.S. resolve to protect West Germany and West Berlin from aggression. Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko emphasized the Soviet Union's determination to retain its hold on Eastern Europe and warned that Russia would not allow any outsider "to snatch even one link" from the Socialist community of nations.
Even though it unmistakably evoked the old, unpleasant atmosphere of the cold war, such frank talk perhaps helped to clarify the new political realities in Europe. Certainly the edgy West Germans were measurably relieved by Rusk's reassurances. The situation in Central Europe cooled enough for the Austrians, who had been troubled by the Soviet troop build-up in neighboring Czechoslovakia, to go ahead with plans to demobilize 11,000 Austrian army draftees whose training period had been extended as a result of the Soviet-made crisis.
Shouting Match. The revival of the bloc system brought scant comfort to one country that is perilously caught both geographically and ideologically between the two blocs. It is Yugoslavia, whose President, Marshal Josip Broz Tito, not only was the first Eastern European ruler to achieve his independence from the Soviet overlordship but also served as an inspiration to Czechoslovak Party First Secretary Alexander Dubcek in his ill-starred search to find a measure of freedom within Communism. The recent Soviet press campaign against Tito ("lover of counter-revolution") and his country is almost as bitter as the one against West Germany. At a meeting last summer on his resort isle of Bnoni in the Adriatic, Tito got into a shouting match with Soviet Ambassador Ivan Benediktov. "Lies! Lies!" cried Tito, as the Soviet diplomat read a note from Moscow giving the Soviet version of events in Czechoslovakia. "You cannot talk that way," the Russian remonstrated. "Don't interrupt me!" shouted Tito.
A Soviet invasion is still considered unlikely by Western observers. Nonetheless, the Yugoslavs are preparing for the worst. Tito, fearing a Soviet-inspired attempt on his life, has taken special security precautions. Throughout the country, bomb shelters are being built. As an added touch of realism, Yugoslav airplanes drop smoke bombs on some cities during air-raid drills. Emulating the tactics of the Czechoslovak broadcasters, Yugoslav radio stations are setting up alternative facilities outside the cities so that they can keep the people informed in the event that the urban areas fall to invaders. The 300,000-man Yugoslav army, which is equipped with a mixture of U.S. and Soviet weaponry, is on full alert. Troops, who have orders to shoot if fired upon, are digging into defense positions all along the 800-mile border that the Yugoslavs share with Hungary, Rumania and Bulgaria.