The Second Battle of Wolmi

More than 140,000 Americans were killed or wounded fighting Communists in Korea, and the U.S. is still spending $250 million a year to clear up the wreckage of war. Yet last week, with bayonets and tear gas, U.S. troops were fighting again in Korea--this time against their allies, the South Koreans.

At Pusan, where the U.S. put division after division ashore to save Korea in 1950, Korean mobs stormed U.S. barracks. Into Kunsan air base, where U.S. warplanes took off to bomb South Korea's invaders, Koreans were hurling bombs of their own. It was a strange and tragic conflict, for the Americans were fighting to protect their enemies: the Communist Poles and Czechs of the Neutral Nations Supervisory Commission.

While the G.I.s were stoned in their defense, the Communists last week sat in safety behind U.S. machine guns, smoking American cigarettes, leafing through American magazines, drinking American beer. With their Swiss and Swedish colleagues, they came to Korea in 1953, ostensibly to ensure that neither side increased its military strength after the armistice signed at Panmunjom. That truce, which South Korea did not sign, was supposed to last 90 days, until a conference met to work out a treaty. It is now 23 months later, and President Syngman Rhee has run out of patience.

His complaint: truce inspection is a farce, for only the U.N. observes it. Not a Sabre jet leaves Korea, not a howitzer is junked or a Patton tank replaced on the U.N. side, without its being reported to the NNSC and thence, via the Czechs and the Poles, to Pyongyang, Peking and Moscow. U.S. soldier replacements disembarking in Korea are greeted by Communist officers, who click them in with hand counters as they march off their Army transports. Yet on the North Korean side of the truce line, an immense and illegal buildup has gone on unchecked.

On the Other Side. Since the armistice, U.S. intelligence estimates that the Communists have increased artillery firepower by 30%, laid out 40 military airfields and moved in more than 400 aircraft, including 150 MIG jets. Last year, the Swiss and Swedes reported that truce inspection in North Korea was "completely illusory." The U.S. called for its immediate abolition on the grounds that "obstructionist tactics on the Communist side have made [its work] impossible." Washington even promised Rhee that the U.S. would see to it that NNSC left Korea shortly. It is still there.

At long length Syngman Rhee decided to take things into his own hands. He didn't like the idea of the U.S. sitting down peaceful-like with the Chinese Reds at Geneva. Rhee denounced the Poles and Czechs on the NNSC as "Communist spies." His newspapers launched a systematic propaganda barrage designed to convince his people that another attack on South Korea was imminent. At the same time, Rhee's national police made arrangements to levy food, drink and banquet quotas on South Korean shopkeepers, for the use of the students and unemployed whom Rhee can always rely on to do his rioting for him. Then President Rhee put out two ultimatums. The first was to the North Koreans: get out of the Kaesong enclave, the area south of the 38th Parallel on Korea's west coast which was ceded to the Communists.

The second ultimatum went to the NNSC: get out by Aug. 14, or be put out bodily. "The U.S. seems to be unable to settle this question for us," said Rhee. "The government has no other course but to deal with the Communists directly."

Hell & High Water. The U.S., which controls Rhee's supplies of gasoline and ammunition, had little fear that Rhee would order his army to march north, but it was thoroughly alarmed at the prospect of a South Korean attack on the neutral commission. In Washington, Secretary of State John Foster Dulles warned the South Koreans that the principle of "nonviolence," which the U.S. is trying to get the Red Chinese to accept, applies equally to U.S. allies. Meanwhile, General Lyman L. Lemnitzer, the U.S. and U.N. supreme commander in the Far East, flew to Seoul and told Rhee to his face that "neither hell nor high water" would persuade the U.S. to renege on its solemn commitment to abide by the Korean armistice and defend the NNSC.

"The silliest thing I ever heard," taunted Syngman Rhee, "American soldiers threatening to shoot their allies to protect Communists." Rhee assured Lemnitzer that his government had no intention of using force, but to make sure, the American gave orders to reinforce the U.S. guard at all five of the inspection points where the NNSC officers are billeted. It was a wise precaution, for within hours the rioting began.

Commies, Go Home. In Pusan, a mob of Koreans, urged on by Rhee's national policemen, rushed the NNSC compound, shouting. "Poles and Czechs, go home!" They pushed down the fence and stoned the U.S. guards; in one of their trucks, guards found six machine guns. The worst fighting broke out at Wolmi Island, the wooded, humpbacked pile where the U.S. marines staged their amphibious assault on Inchon in 1950. Screaming Koreans tried to rush the causeway that joins the island to the mainland, and others stormed ashore from junks. One Korean got shot and two were wounded while trying to land at Wolmi. The G.I.s barricaded the causeway with trucks and jeeps. Reported TIME Correspondent Curtis Prendergast from Wolmi: "Tanks and .50-caliber machine guns were ready in reserve, but in the trucks the helmeted Americans made do with baseball bats, boxes of tear-gas bombs, and unloaded rifles. An Army officer explained: 'We're not loaded. We figure, if they come in, we've got enough time to load. We'll have no mass firing here. We'll only fire at those who fire at us.'

"On the other side of the barricade, a mob formed after sundown in the dusty street. A loudspeaker blared again and again: 'Let us expel the Communist Supervisory Commission and regain the price of our lost blood.'

"Suddenly the mob advanced, 1,500 strong. Stones started flying, and we in the trucks were beginning to get hit. Several Koreans carrying torches soaked in kerosene threw the blazing brands into the U.S. barricade. Outside the loudspeaker blared incredibly: 'We like to assure the U.N. troops we will not harm the U.N. troops.' Rocks were banging in once more. Somebody cracked that he was glad they weren't trying to hurt us."

A Last-Minute Backdown. For a week the rock-throwing, torch-waving and teargassing went on, but the U.S. Army stood firm and did not lose its head. Finally, Syngman Rhee backed down and proclaimed that his government was opposed to the "civilian violence." Rhee demanded that the U.S. give a guarantee that the NNSC would soon be "peacefully evicted." An officer at the Wolmi barricade summed up the Army's reaction: "Even if I could hand over the Czechs and Poles to these people, I wouldn't do it. It's a matter of principle. We told them we'd protect them, and we will."

At week's end 22 Americans and perhaps 80 Koreans had been more or less seriously injured to maintain the principle. Stubborn old Syngman Rhee was beaten, and knew it. Two hours before it expired, Rhee lifted the midnight deadline for NNSC officers to get out of Korea.

But though Syngman Rhee's bluff had been called, he had not been silenced. "Our very good friend, President Eisenhower," he said, "believes that he has found another kind of peace--peace of mutual forbearance, in which each nation pursues its own aims in every way short of armed conflict." Such a peace, prophesied Rhee, will lead to disaster because 1) "it gives the Communists the chance ... to fix their grip permanently on conquered areas," and 2) "the Communists themselves will not abide by it."

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