Harry Truman was President of the United States. Dean Acheson was Secretary of State. The Korean War was at its apex. Chinese "volunteer" troops had overrun United Nations positions, and UN forces were struggling to throw them back. Western Europe and the United States were engaged in a Cold War with the Soviet Union. The Truman Doctrine had staved off a communist takeover in Greece and stymied similar offensives in Western Europe.

On the home front, anti-communism was growing in intensity, fueled by Congressional hearings on alleged communist influences in the U.S. Government. Senator Richard Nixon had singled out Alger Hiss, a top echelon Department of State official, for attack. Senator Joseph McCarthy had launched his charges, mostly unfounded, against the Departments of the Army and State for alleged communists influences. Several veteran China specialists were about to be railroaded out of the Foreign Service, accused of having turned China over to the communists. One of them was Jack Service with whom I was destined to become good friends in my post-Foreign Service career in Berkeley.

On the diplomatic front, backed by America's predominant military and economic strength, we were using a "Campaign of Truth" to combat communist anti-American propaganda. In Latin America, where I was heading, virtually the whole continent was living under military dictatorships, anti-communist in name, but oppressive in character, creating fertile fields for communism.

A plaque on the USIA headquarters building at 1776 Pennsylvania Avenue read "Telling America's Story to the World." Through my oath I had sworn to help tell that story. It was a heady thought. I had been a member of the U.S. military forces fighting fascist aggression during World War II. Now I was once more joining the fray, this time in the diplomatic service, America's first line of defense against communist aggression.

I found a room in a private home on Cathedral Avenue and immediately began orientation for my assignment with the title "Information Assistant" at the American Embassy in Caracas. There were a dozen new Foreign Service recruits in my group, including Stan Moss, my classmate and good friend at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. Stan had specialized in Latin America at UNC but was being assigned to Cebu in the Philippines instead. I had served with the U.S. Air Force in China and had focused on East Asia at LSU but was going to Latin America.

"Just like the Army," Stan said.

Pressure was on State to fill openings abroad, and we were both being sent where we were needed without any country-specific training to equip us for the tasks ahead of us. Most of our three-week training period was directed at familiarizing us with State Department administrative procedures, cultural exchange programs, and Washington support services to field posts. These included press and motion pictures in Washington, and the Voice of America in New York. (VOA would move to the capital later.) Television was still in its infancy and USIA had not yet established a television branch.

One memorable training exercise focused on how to handle communist hecklers. The training officer played the role of a communist agent. Addressing himself to each of us individually, he fired vitriolic accusations against the United States charging Americans with supporting racist and colonial policies, a lack of any real culture, violence in their cities, and economic imperialism. Our task was to respond coolly and factually to each of these charges. My experience with communist activists at a student conference on international relations at the University of Oklahoma served me well, and I came out of the exercise sweating but with the feeling that I had met the challenge. But the real test would come in the field.

Later I would learn much more about the duties and responsibilities of life in the Foreign Service. At that time my colleagues and I looked forward to representing the United States to foreign publics, to serving on the frontline of America’s engagement abroad. We hoped to have some impact on our audiences and play a part in making history, but this was still pretty much of a dream. Part of that dream was travel abroad, experiencing new cultures, learning new languages, seeing new sights and finding lifetime friends in foreign cultures. I already had a taste of this from my China experience and looked forward to great deal more. We understood from what we had read and from our short acquaintance with State Department officials that we would be working with highly talented individuals and that the challenges of our new jobs would never give us a moment to get bored. In recompense we would be provided housing and free medical care while living abroad. The salary I would be drawing at first was modest, but it was still considerably more than I was receiving as a journalist. Even so, what appealed to me most was the challenge of the job itself. I was excited and looked forward eagerly to this new phase of my life.

My orientation period was hectic, but I also had to equip myself with a diplomatic wardrobe for service in the tropics in mid-winter Washington. Stan was a big help. He had grown up in nearby Baltimore and knew his way around the capital. The month passed quickly. Before leaving Washington in mid-February, I wrote a protocol letter to my Ambassador-to-be in Caracas and advised him that I would arrive at the Maiquetia airport on February 22.

My travel orders gave me four days leave en route. I used them bid farewell to Margaret, my college sweetheart in Chapel Hill, and to say goodbye to my family in Lake Charles, Louisiana. My hometown paper published an item about my Foreign Service assignment accompanied by a photo of me boarding a plane for New Orleans and the overnight flight to Caracas.

One winter day in 1955 Nishimura-san and I were driving back to Takamatsu following an official visit to Tokushima. It was cold, the roads were rough, and we were both badly in need of something to warm us up. We stopped for coffee at the only cafe available in Anabuki, a mountain village at the prefecture border. The coffee was terrible, but it was hot. We had hardly finished our first grimace when the cafe owner asked if I was an American, a rarity in those parts. With my affirmative nod he began a bombardment of questions on everything from American attitudes toward the Korean conflict to sex and marriage in the American society. A man with a vision larger than his business indicated, he complained that the people of his town--the mayor, the school teachers, and many others--were eager for contact with Americans from whom they could learn more about the United States. His questions matched those I had encountered in earlier discussions with my Japanese contacts, and I found that I could handle them just as well as any lecturer who might be riding the USIS circuit.

Continuing our journey to Takamatsu, Nishimura-san and I hit upon the idea of holding a series of Japan-America Forums with community leaders around Shikoku in which I could respond to whatever questions they might have about the American people and U.S. policies in Japan. The Forums would need no outside resources. They were not very abundant anyway. Margaret and I would be the principals with Nishimura-san serving as interpreter and interlocutor. We would not even need approval from Kobe or Tokyo since we would be operating in my territory of Kagawa and Tokushima prefectures. By the time we got home we had worked out a program of action.

Over the next year and a half we held many of these forums in my two prefectures as well as in Ehime and Kochi. Working with prefecture and town officials Nishimura-san organized the meetings, lasting about two hours, with local intelligencia--usually high school teachers, principals, or professionals. On trips around Shikoku lasting two or three days each we met twice daily with groups in schools or town halls over tea and cakes and talked about things American and Japanese. At each session I made a few introductory remarks and then we opened ourselves to questions on whatever might be on their minds. The groups were almost unanimously friendly. Most wanted to know about American customs. The women invariably asked Margaret questions about American family life. One even asked: "How is it possible for you to get away from your family to come on this trip with your husband?"

Margaret's reply pleased them. "I have a very reliable Japanese housekeeper. I would trust my daughter with her any time and any place."

More significantly they touched on such topics as American education--all aspects--local government financing, social security for the elderly, and the conduct of American soldiers in Japan. They also wanted to know about attitudes toward marriage and the family (One asked, "Is chastity important in American marriage?") birth control, youth and community organizations, among many others. None of the questions were particularly hard to handle, but they showed a keen interest in and curiosity about the nation that had conquered them. The forums took us all over Shikoku during varying seasons of the year. One memorable spot was the town of Hiwasa, surely at the end of the earth, where we were assailed by a swarm of gigantic insects and forced to take refuge behind mosquito nets.

On only one occasion did we encounter hostile questions. It happened in Tokushima prefecture where a communist youth organization had made racism in the United States a public issue. We were going through our usual routine, answering questions about education and schooling, and after each exchange one or more of a group of young men would say, "Well, what about the people in Alabama? What about Selma? What about discrimination against the Negro?"

This was during the period of the civil rights struggle in the South. Martin Luther King's civil rights demonstrations and sit-ins were being fiercely repulsed, and the news media gave the communists more than ample ammunition to challenge American style democracy. Since we could not ignore the questions I tried to respond to them as factually as possible.

After some time I said, "Well, you know, we are not alone. Racism is not confined to any one country. You have problems with it right here in this country with the Eta (people who work with leather and dead animals). They do not enjoy the rights of other Japanese citizens."

I thought I had scored with that remark; but later Nishimura-san said to me, "You know, I didn't translate that bit about the Eta. It wouldn't have done any good and may even have antagonized the audience. They've got an Eta village right in this town."

Nevertheless, despite this rare, negative heckling, our Japan-America forums proved to be one of our most valuable and memorable experiences in Shikoku. Our conviction of their value was confirmed by the women's editor of the Birmingham News, Miriam G. Hill, who was studying the role of women in Japan on a Niemann Fellowship. Shikoku was on her itinerary so we invited her to take part in one of the forums. She made the event the subject of a lengthy article in her newspaper, writing of how well she had been impressed by questions that village young people asked her. Later, on our return to the United States, the Birmingham News gave a dinner in our honor.

I had barely moved into my office when Jack Higgins asked me to accompany him to Zaragoza to attend the opening of a new Atoms for Peace exhibit. The U.S. Air Force base in that city was cosponsoring it with USIS as a community relations project. Arrangements for the exhibit had been completed before my arrival, but since I was to be in charge of future showings Jack thought it desirable that I attend the opening. .

At the time the world was painfully aware of the destructive power of the atom but knew little of its peaceful potentials. Public attention had focused almost exclusively on the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II and on our subsequent A-bomb and H-bomb tests at Bikini Island in the Pacific. The Soviet Union's successful A-bomb tests and the ensuing nuclear arms race added to the climate of fear. Meanwhile, American nuclear scientists were beginning to reveal many beneficial uses of the atom, particularly in energy, medicine, and scientific research.

Under President Eisenhower the United States had made a calculated decision to demonstrate America's peaceful intentions by promoting popular understanding of the many ways in which the atom could benefit mankind. At home in the United States the Atomic Energy Commission was taking the lead to educate the public. Abroad, this task was assigned to USIA.

I had attended a USIS Atoms for Peace exhibit in Hiroshima, across the Inland Sea from my last post in Shikoku. While the people of Spain certainly could not compare with the people of Japan in experience with the power of the atom, there was no question that the theme was a popular one. I was delighted to become involved.

The Atoms for Peace exhibit, mounted by our USIS exhibits staff, was somewhat smaller than its counterpart in Japan. Although based primarily on photo panels, it was still impressive. Local VIPs turned out in force. In their opening speeches Ambassador Lodge and the USAF commander in Zaragoza expressed the desire of the United States to share its knowledge of atomic energy with Spain's scientific community. The Spanish base commander responded, welcoming U.S. assistance in scientific and technological as well as defense matters. There was a buffet lunch afterwards, hosted by the Air Force. I was miffed because they served sherry with the meal instead of a good red or white wine--but it was good sherry.

Jack returned to Madrid after the opening. I stayed over in Zaragoza an extra day to pay courtesy calls on local officials with whom I would be working. The Air Force flew me back to Madrid. I felt like a big shot.

In the spring of 1958 USIA Washington sent us a full scale Atoms for Peace exhibit with a realistic working model of an atomic power generator and a set of "magic hands"-- remote controls for handling radioactive materials. Ambassador Lodge and the Spanish Minister of Mines inaugurated the exhibit at a major agricultural fair in Madrid. We made a big splash in the national press. ABC, Madrid's leading newspaper carried a full front-page picture of the opening with me explaining to Spanish officials how the atomic power plant worked. In reality I knew little more than I had read in our brochures; but fortunately they knew even less, and Mr. Estecha was there to answer questions. Posturing made me uncomfortable so in future openings I let him take the limelight. During the exhibit's run in Madrid up to 25,000 people a day passed through our pavilion.

A similar pattern followed in each of Spain's other major cities--Barcelona, Bilbao, Sevilla and Valencia--where we held the exhibit in conjunction with our local Casas Americanas and the American consulates. Ambassador Lodge spoke at all of the opening ceremonies. Local newspapers covered these events and carried articles (provided by USIS) on the wonders of atomic energy to supplement their coverage. Amusingly, in Barcelona, as Ambassador Lodge, USIS Director Joe McEvoy and Spanish officials toured exhibit, I followed them around snapping photos as the Ambassador posed with his Spanish guests. Eventually I ran out of film. When I whispered this information to Joe, he replied, "No matter. Keep shooting anyway."

Overall, hundreds of thousands of Spaniards of all ages visited the five showings with students taking assiduous notes on every detail. After the final showing at the annual fair in Sevilla in the spring of 1960, we up packed the exhibit and its models up and sent them off to another country, but we continued using our locally produced panels in our American Week programs. We promoted atoms for peace with vigor. This was President Eisenhower's special program, and we were driven by visions of a great new energy resource unhampered by the knowledge of the problems of nuclear waste. Our top nuclear scientists were gingerly testing the waters in this new scientific field, but even they did not anticipate such disasters such as Chernobyl. In retrospect, we were oversold on our own product and, as a result, we went overboard in selling it to the Spanish public. For this, I can neither take nor place any blame. In promoting atoms for peace we simply reflected America's national hopes and aspirations.