For Freedom

From Korea's capital, where last week U.S. and Soviet negotiators jailed to reach an agreement on Korea's future, TIME Correspondent William Gray cabled:

The pleasant May afternoon in Seoul has been disturbed for several hours now by a long blast of Korean oratory, hurled into the streets from a loudspeaker in a former Japanese bank building. "We will fight for independence," an unseen speaker shouts, "until the last Korean is dead!" Other voices are summoning Koreans to a mass meeting on behalf of freedom.

U.S. military-government officials are paying no evident attention to the oratory, which has much the flavor of a political campaign in Chicago or Seattle. In America's Korea, as in Chicago or Seattle, free speech has been the rule since the U.S. Army arrived last fall to take charge below the 38th parallel. In fact, U.S. insistence on free speech for Koreans has become the newest impaling post of Soviet-American relations.

A Matter of Semantics. Seven weeks ago a delegation of 120 Russians came down from their zone north of the 38th parallel. They were led by rotund Colonel General Terenty Shtykov, who said: "The Soviet people warmly support ... a free way of life ... for the Korean people." Inside the pillared grey walls of Seoul's Duk Soo Palace, General Shtykov and four top comrades began a series of talks with five U.S. officers, led by strapping Major General Archibald V. Arnold.

The joint commission sought to "implement the directive" (as they say in Washington) of last December's Conference of Foreign Ministers in Moscow, which called for a provisional Korean government. Koreans were supposed to be consulted, but the Russian idea of which Koreans to consult differed radically from the American.

A Formula for Purging. Koreans, remembering Japan's tutelage, were disappointed when the Moscow Conference decided upon another trusteeship, under the U.S. and Russia, for five years. Rightist groups in the American zone, loosely amalgamated in the Representative Democratic Council under elder statesman Syngman Rhee, protested heatedly, berated both the U.S. and Russia. But leftists, gathered under Communist domination in the Democratic People's Front, espoused trusteeship and opposed immediate independence, although Communists all over the world were yipping for the freedom of India and Indonesia.

In the Duk Soo Palace, Soviet negotiators demanded that all Koreans who had spoken against trusteeship be barred from consultation. The Russian attitude, as one American put it, was: "The gods have spoken. Korea is going to have trusteeship. Why listen to those who oppose it?" They went even further. They asked that members of the Representative Democratic Council be disqualified from any provisional government.

The Americans balked over what, in effect, was a political purge in favor of pro-Russian parties. Since! there was no meeting of minds on that issue, the Americans shifted to another. Would the Russians consent to "remove the 38th degree parallel boundary as an obstacle to the reunification of Korea?" The Russians refused to consider it.

A Lesson in Obstruction. Finally American patience politely gave out. Adjournment was suggested. General Shtykov communicated with "higher headquarters," then informed the U.S. commander in Korea, Lieut. General John R. Hodge, that his orders were to cease negotiations and return to Northern Korea.

Next morning the Russians assembled at Seoul's railroad station. The Americans saw them off. Generals Arnold and Shtykov chatted pleasantly for half an hour. Vodka was poured. As the Soviet train pulled north toward Korea's iron curtain, the last Russian visible, standing in the rear door of the end coach, was a Tommy-gunner.

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