witli the wind, recanting his antiwarrnconvictions with alacrity, if not anguish.rnSherwood’s second PuHtzer Prize winner,rnAbe Lincoln in Illinois (pul)Hslicdrnin 19SB, filmed in 1940), was dcriedrnfrom Carl Sandburg’s fantasy and canrnbe read as an allegory urging Americanrnintervention in Europe. As peace sentimentrnbecame less fashionable, Sherwoodrnwent whole hog for war, writingrnthe agitprop There Shall Be No Nightrnand overseeing the propaganda nrachincrnin the Office of War hiformation.rnTo his shame, Sherwood ghostedrnFDR’s infamous October 30, 1940,rnpledge to the “mothers and fathers” ofrnAmerica: “1 have said this before, but Irnshall sav it again and again and again:rnYour bo s are not going to be sent intornany foreign war.” Sherwood later confessedrnthat he knew this was a lie, but byrnthat time the lofty old conceit aboutrnspeaking Truth to Power had collapsedrnto the more familiar job of speakingrnFalsehoods for Power.rnSherwood’s apostasy was bitter. Hisrnscri|5t for William Wyler’s overyvhelmingrn(and, at times, cjuitc moving) homecomingrnepic I’he Best Years of Our Livesrn(1946) contains a memorable scene inrnwhicli Harold Russell, a boy-next-doorrnwho has come back from the war withrnpincers where his hand used to be, andrnDana Andrews, a decorated vet nowrntoiling as a soda jerk, get into a row withrna nervous little man at a lunch counterrnwho bears what cannot be a coincidentalrnresemblance to Thomas E. Dewey.rn”It’s terrible when you sec a guy likernou who had to sacrifice himself—andrnfor what?” our Dewey stand-in savsrndarkK, staring at Russell’s prothesis.rn”I’or what? I don’t getcha mister,”rnreplies Russell.rn”We let ourselves get sold down thernriver. We were pushed into that war.”rn”Sure, by the Japs and the Nazis.”rn”No,” gusts Dewey. “The Germansrnand the Japs had nothing against us.rnThe just wanted to fight the limeys andrnthe Reds, and thev woulda whipped ’emrntoo, if wc didn’t get deceived into it by arnbunch of radicals in Washington.”rnDana Andrews tells the loudmouthrnto beat it. He stands to leave, grumbling,rn”And that’s another thing. Everyrnsoda jerk in this country’s got an idearnhe’s somebody.”rn”Look mister,” Russell demands.rn”Just what arc you scllin’?”rn”I’m not selling anything but plainrnold-fashioned Americanism,” declaresrnDewc.rnRussell snatches something from thernman’s lapel, and it falls to the floor.rnThey scuffle, and Andrews lands arnroundhouse to Dewey’s jaw, sendingrnhim sprawling. Russell retriees thernitem from the floor. It is an Americanrnflag pin. Russell carefully sticks it onrnhis own lapel.rnSee how cleverly Sherwood fixed therngame. The Nye position—that Americansrnare dragged into foreign wars bv externalrninfluences—is presented as rcactionar-rnpoison peddled by impoliterncreeps who detest Prcsident-for-Life Roosevelt.rnPeace, it seems, is for rightwingrncranks. The Nyes, populist MainrnStrecters, sneer at uppity soda jerks inrnSherwood’s world. “Americanism” is arnhate-crime, though the flag is recapturedrnb the spunky crippled vet. Our hero wasrnmaimed by “those radicals in Washington,”rnbut he’s still willing to fight onrntheir behalf. Mr. Sherwood has come arnlong vay from Idiot’s Delight.rnIn later years the makers of such filmsrnwere remarkably honest about theirrnintentions. Jack Warner boasted of therntendentiousncss of such Warner productionsrnas Espionage Agent (19-)9), inrnwhich an American peace group is arnNazi front, and Confessions of a NazirnSpy (1939), which I have not seen butrnwhich the New Republic’s Otis Fergusonrnripped as “a hate-breeder” made forrn”playboy intellectuals . . . chargingrnaround proclaiming the duty to go intornbattle of somebody else.” Fritz Lang’srnMan Hunt (1941), a personal favorite,rnfinds big-game hunter Walter Pidgeonrnbeing chased through the alleys of Londonrnby monoclcd Nazi George Sanders,rnwho bellows, “Today Europe, tomorrowrnthe vyorld!”rnThe jewel of the Crown offensive wasrnMGM’s Mrs. Miniver, which beganrn.shooting one month before Pearl Harbor.rnThe masterly William Wyler directed;rnhe later called the picture “perfectrnas propaganda.” The film can makernan Irish Republican wave the UnionrnJack; even the most indurated Anglophobernyill be reduced to tears. ThernEnglish, ye are told in the prologue, arerna “ha|5py, careless people,” and ecrvrnstock character in Albion—the snobbishrndowager, the g-dropping pub crawler,rnthe socially conscious Oxonian, thernditzy chambermaid—lives in the Minivers’rncheerful village. Class differencesrnmelt in the crucible of war, and this cohesiverncommunity resists Nazi aggressionrnwith pluck and patriotism. Englandrnis Greer Carson and the luminousrnTeresa Wright, and what red-bloodedrnAmerican boy wouldn’t fight for that?rn(Miss Wright, minus the accent, was alsornthe prize awaiting returning Americansrnin The Best Years of Our Lives.)rnMrs. Miniver ends with the doughtyrnvillagers singing “Onward ChristianrnSoldiers” in a ruined chapel. In a spicyrnbit of irony. Idiot’s Delight ended onrnstage—^but not on him—with Irene andrnHarry humming the same hymn, tornrather different effect.rnExposing the evils of Nazism (asrnFrank Borzage did in his fine The MortalrnStorm) was not enough; nor was fittingrnEnglishmen for halos. American peacernleaders—most of them old liberals opposedrnto war and regimentation—hadrnto be recast as jackbootcd heavies withrnsuspicious five-o’clock shadows. One ofrnthe most despicable such Hollywoodrnefforts was the little-knov’n Hepburn-rnTracy film Keeper of the Flame, scriptedrnby wealthy Communist Donald OgdenrnStewart from a novel b Ida A.R.rnWvlie and directed by the talentedrn”women’s director” George Cukor. Thernfilm was written in the fall of 1941 andrnreleased in 1942.rnThe opening credits roll against scuddingrnlouring clouds, as though we arernpiloting an airplane encountering frightfulrnturbulence. As the picture beginsrnwe sec a ear hurtling off a bridge in arnrainstorm; it strikes the ground and explodesrninto flames. The spinning newspapersrnof movie cliche reveal that a nationalrnhero, Robert Forrest has died.rnAmerica mourns.rnFf)rrest, as even the dullards in thernaudience must realize, is Charles Lindbergh.rnWe hear testaments to his courage.rnHe was a superman, worshiped byrnhis countrymen, yet there was stillrna “simple, homely” Middle Americanrnquality about him. Spencer “Iracv playsrna noted war correspondent who wantsrnto write his authorized biograph’ in orderrnto stiffen the national backbone inrnthese parlous times.rnWhile studving “Forward America,”rnthe organization Forrest has dedicatedrnto “true Americanism ” (the noun’s therntip-off), Tracy uncovers the startlingrntruth: Robert Forrest was . . . A FascistrnTraitorl It turns out that Mrs. Forrestrn(Katharine Hepburn) facilitated thernkilling of her own husband as an actrnof patriotism. “Of course they didn’trncall it fascism,” she sobs to Trae-. “TheyrnMAY 1993/47rnrnrn