After an Evening with Morning Star

When revolt struck Djakarta last week, it seemed appropriate that President Sukarno was in the company of a lovely woman. He was with Morning Star, his most recent wife, a 26-year-old former Japanese bar hostess. Sukarno had left Merdeka Palace to visit her brown-walled bungalow for dinner beneath dozens of Indonesian statues. As the meal ended, word came of a military uprising in the city. Dismissing his motorcade, Sukarno summoned a helicopter and was lifted up into the night sky--and for four days, the flamboyant, hard-living leader of a nation of 104 million was not seen or heard from.

Rumors flew that Sukarno was dead, seriously ill, in prison or in flight. But Bung Karno has spent a lifetime showing the world how to be a survivor. He has nimbly escaped innumerable assassination attempts by bomb and bullet, grenade and jet fighter. Insurrections against him constantly erupt in the Outer Islands only to be put down or neutralized. What made last week's coups different was that leaders of both the first coup and the one that followed insisted loudly that they were defending Sukarno against the plots of others.

Hat Trick. The first revolt was staged by a lowly lieutenant colonel in an army overloaded with generals. His name was Untung,* which means "Good Luck," and he commanded a battalion in the palace guards. He launched his troops on a double mission: to round up 20 generals and seize Radio Indonesia.

The transmitter was swiftly captured and was soon pouring out communiques in the name of the "30th of September Movement." It was a thrilling plotline: Untung had uncovered a "generals'" conspiracy to overthrow Sukarno during this week's scheduled celebration of Army Day. Behind the conniving generals, charged Untung, was the wily hand and dizzying wealth of the CIA. Radio Indonesia also announced the formation of a 45-man "Revolutionary Council," including some of the biggest names in the country, along with others that sounded as if they had been picked blindfold from a hat.

Some of the surprise members: Foreign Minister Subandrio, long regarded as Sukarno's heir apparent, and last week absent on a tour of Sumatra; Air Force Chief of Staff Omar Dani, reputedly a Communist; and Admiral Martadinata, whose fleet has been immobilized for months by a strike of 700 junior naval officers. The restless nation was assured by the rebels that Sukarno was "safe and under protection," and, as an afterthought Untung abolished all military ranks above his own. A new Cabinet was also announced, headed, of course, by Untung.

Wounded Daughter. Untung's good luck began to run out early. As his men rounded up the suspect generals, Army Chief of Staff Ahmad Yani and a quartermaster corps general were said to have been killed. The detachment sent to arrest Defense Minister Abdul Haris Nasution bungled the job: Nasution and his five-year-old daughter were reportedly both wounded.

Was Nasution really wounded? Once free, he apparently rallied the troops on the city's outskirts and sent word to the crack Siliwangi Division at Bandung to move on the capital. General Suharto, commander of the strategic reserve, was placed in charge of operations. At 8 in the evening, Suharto's forward units were moving toward the center of the city and exchanging fire with Untung's palace guards. By midnight, Radio Indonesia had fallen to the attackers, and by the next morning, Untung and his men were in full flight. Their possible destination: a stronghold in central Java, where a colonel of the Diponegoro Division had already announced his support of the coup.

Radio Indonesia now spoke with another voice, proclaiming martial law and placing Djakarta in "a state of war." The revolt was said to be crushed, and Nasution's spokesman derided Untung's charge of a generals' plot as merely a pretext for his own personal coup. Sukarno was reported "safe and well," and rumor had it that the President was waiting out events at his summer palace in Bogor, 30 miles from Djakarta.

The army also revealed that some of the names on Untung's Revolutionary Council were imaginary, and that many others had been used without their owners' permission. General Suharto announced an "understanding between the army, navy and police" to eliminate the remnants of Untung's followers. One mystery remained: where were the flyboys and their marvelous MIGs? The absence of the air force from this list made it seem likely that its commander, Omar Dani, had gone over to the rebels.

Positive Genius. With all communication lines to the outside world severed, the only source of hard information was the disjointed communiques served up on Radio Indonesia between intervals of music. Under Sukarno, there have been only two power centers in the country, the armed forces and the 3,500,000 members of the Indonesian Communist Party, led by cagey, cautious D. N. Aidit, who was off on a junket to Red China when the shooting started.

A showdown between the Reds and the nationalist-minded officers has long been expected, and it was tempting to regard last week's skirmishing as the first round in an intra-Indonesian knockdown drag-out. Defense Minister Nasution has long complained of Sukarno's wooing of the Communists, and successfully blocked a Red plan to have arms issued to its own militia. But Communist headquarters seemed as confused as everyone else. One Red newspaper did come out in support of the 30th of September Movement, but the others were silent.

Observers were also quick to warn that events in Indonesia bore little resemblance to events elsewhere. The Indonesian character is one that shies from reality, hesitates to push things to a conclusion, and has a positive genius for never resolving difficult problems. Whether Untung's coup represented a one-man aberration or was part of a faultily executed Communist plot remained to be seen.

The most puzzling factor was the silence of Sukarno. A man who dearly loves the spotlight and who is nearly as happy making a speech as chasing a pretty girl, his behavior was inexplicable, unless he was seriously ill or dead. At week's end, 64-year-old Sukarno proved he was neither. In a live broadcast over Radio Indonesia, the durable President told his people that he was sound and well. "This is my voice," declared the Bung. "I am still alive. This is your President." Calling for "increased vigilance" against his enemies, Sukarno seemed to be suggesting that he was easily back on top again.

* Indonesians take a detached view of personal names, changing them at will, and often --as in the case of Untung and Sukarno--making do with one name instead of two or three.

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