At home a new threat appeared. A rumor ran like wildfire through the shop that Senator Truman’s War Investigating Committee had discovered evidence of fraud in the inspection department of the Wright Aeronautical plant at Cincinnati, and was on the way to investigate. Almost immediately, the news headlines confirmed the story and the fat was in the fire. The reaction on Wright was practically to halt production; at Pratt and Whitney it threatened serious reductions in output, just at the time when demand was at its highest. The matter of the inspection on a production line is one of its most delicate factors. No specifications or instructions can be written without leaving an element of judgment to an inspection department. All that is needed to freeze up the whole process is the threat of Congressional inquiry, especially when accompanied, as was this case, by jail threats for the guilty parties. The investigation ran its customary course in the newspapers. The Committee had its innings. No crime was discovered that had warranted such a complete shutdown on deliveries of vital war materials. And after it was over, the manufacturers all over the country picked themselves up out of the gutter and went on with their production. In light of the production miracles performed by private industry in spite of a militantly unfriendly administration, it is interesting, even though futile, to speculate what might have been done under an inspired leadership that had faith in the cooperative process, understood the technique of the voluntary method, and was determined to give it a friendly opportunity to perform. From the point of view of costs alone, results would have been startling. The impact on the human spirit would have been far-reaching. Too many of us functioned under little more inspiration than that associated with pride in craftsmanship. I had witnessed the magic that can be worked by inspiring leadership while under Admiral Beatty’s command in the Grand Fleet. As World War I dragged to a close, two facts had become clear. Despite all the bloody trench warfare along the Western Front, victory would again rest with the nation which held command of the sea. In the existing stalemate, with the Hun unwilling to risk action, ultimate victory would crown the head of the fleet commander who displayed the best leadership; it was all a matter of morale. It is now part of history that Beatty, himself a hard-riding fox hunter, succeeded in bringing his command to the peak of its fighting efficiency at the precise moment German sailors selected to mutiny. I had got an insight into Beatty’s mind one day just prior to the Armistice when he had called me aboard the _Queen Elizabeth_ to compliment me on some verses I had published in _The Arklight_, our ship’s paper, under the title, “When the Grand Fleet Goes to Sea.” On the settle before the open coal fire in his cabin, Admiral Beatty summed up a discourse on leadership.