As the grim news about the rapid rate of U.S. coronavirus infections poured into the White House 10 days ago, President Donald Trump likened himself to "a wartime president," leading the nation through what he termed "a medical war" that "we have to win," equating the situation to the American effort in World War II. Accordingly, the president declared a national emergency and belatedly endorsed the scientific community's urgent recommendation that Americans should try to stay home. After hesitating, he finally invoked the Defense Production Act to compel General Motors to "prioritize federal contracts for ventilators."

Even as he claimed the United States would produce 100,000 of these lifesaving machines in the next 100 days, many medical professionals question whether the ventilators will arrive in time to help the flood of patients expected to land at the nation's hospitals in the next two weeks. Despite the urgent plea from public health experts for an immediate, nationwide shutdown now that the United States leads the world in coronavirus cases, Trump has insisted he wants to see the country reopen for business as soon as possible, perhaps even by Easter Sunday.

This behavior stands in stark contrast to President Franklin Roosevelt's wartime leadership, which was premised on ensuring the troops had sufficient equipment to win the war and leveling with the American people so they would fully understand the sacrifices that would be required to defeat a determined enemy.

On December 9, 1941, just two days after the Japanese assault on Pearl Harbor, Roosevelt delivered his first fireside chat as a wartime president. He did not mince words. After warning his fellow Americans that the world and all its oceans had become "one gigantic battlefield," he cautioned that achieving the "absolute victory" would be difficult. This is going to be "a long ... hard war," he said, one in which "every single man, woman and child" must become "a partner in the most tremendous undertaking of our American history."

Roosevelt was frank with the nation: Because the United States was "all in" the war, "we must share together the bad news and the good news." So far, he went on, "the news has been all bad." He then pledged that his government would "give the facts to the American people" as soon as the information it received had been officially confirmed — provided, of course, that the release of such information would not prove valuable to the enemy.

Roosevelt knew he had to level with Americans because he understood that victory required a "crushing superiority of equipment." That, in turn, demanded sacrifice from all Americans so industry could prioritize defense production over consumer goods.

In his January 1942 State of the Union address, Roosevelt informed a stunned Congress that the United States must produce 60,000 aircraft in 1942 and 125,000 more in 1943. He also insisted on the production of 120,000 tanks, 55,000 antiaircraft guns and 16 million tons of merchant shipping over the same two-year period.

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No one fathomed such astronomical production figures, and few believed American industry could achieve these goals. But Roosevelt brushed aside doubt. "Our task is hard," he said, and "time is short. We must strain every existing armament-producing facility to the utmost. We must convert every available plant and tool to war production. ... Speed will count. ... Speed will save lives; speed will save this Nation, which is in peril."

Roosevelt then ordered the conversion of the entire American automobile sector - the largest concentration of industrial power in the world — to the production of war material. Thanks to this, and to the vast expenditures of federal dollars needed to meet the emergency, 1942 brought about the greatest expansion of industrial output in the nation's history, and the production goals that seemed outlandish in January 1942 were not only met but exceeded. In this climate, American business thrived and unemployment dropped to less than 1 percent.

Life was not rosy on the home front. As Roosevelt predicted, achieving these production goals required Americans to alter dramatically their day-to-day existence. This included a reduction in consumer consumption, the rationing of such critical materials as gasoline and rubber, a ban on driving for pleasure and the planting of over 20 million "victory gardens." These actions fostered a shared sense of sacrifice among the American people. Everyone here at home, as Roosevelt said, "will have the privilege of making whatever self-denial is necessary, not only to supply our fighting men but to keep the economic structure of our country fortified and secure during the war and after."

Roosevelt's approach is the antithesis of Trump's today. Trump has downplayed the extent of the coronavirus crisis. His refusal to use the full powers accorded him under the Defense Production Act — which was inspired by Roosevelt's mobilization of the U.S. economy during World War II - and instigate a nationwide policy of procurement and distribution of vital medical supplies, to say nothing of his careless call to see the nation's churches full of worshipers by Easter, is putting thousands of American lives at risk.

Nearly 80 years ago, when our country stood at the precipice of an even greater peril to our existence, Roosevelt recognized that the first task of any leader in wartime was to inspire Americans to do their part to meet the challenge before them. In keeping with this vision, Roosevelt began his January 1942 address by reminding the American people that "the militarists of Berlin and Tokyo" may have started this war. "But the massed, angered forces of common humanity will finish it."

It is high time for Trump to recognize that his first task is not only to seek out and acquire the tools for victory but also provide the American people with the hard truth about the nature of the threat before them. If medical professionals tell us this will require a temporary nationwide shutdown, so be it. Armed with this information, there is little doubt Americans everywhere will embrace the sacrifices necessary to meet this crisis and happily join "the massed, angered forces of common humanity" in ridding the world of the scourge of this disease.

Woolner is senior fellow of the Roosevelt Institute, professor of history at Marist College, and author of "The Last 100 Days: FDR at War and at Peace."