DIPLOMATIC FRONT: Diplomatic Front

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The Dove's Progress

The word went to U.S. ambassadors at the United Nations and in Moscow: sound out the Russians. At the U.N., the sounding produced only hollow noises. Russia's Jacob Malik, who had floated the first hint of peace, holed up in his Glen Cove mansion, claiming illness. One night he appeared as host at a U.N. dinner, tuxedoed and healthy-looking—but he dodged all questions about a ceasefire.

In Moscow, Ambassador Alan Kirk made the five-minute drive from Spasso House to the Foreign Ministry just outside the Kremlin's walls, and was ushered in for a 20-minute talk with Deputy Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko. Soon after, Alan Kirk's report reached Washington: the Russian peace feeler looked like the real thing.

In fact, it was less a Russian feeler than a reaction to various cease-fire proposals made by Douglas MacArthur and others. Malik and Gromyko made news by hinting that the Reds were finally willing to talk battlefield truce; the Americans had long ago expressed their willingness.

Jangle & Clatter. The news traversed Washington like an electric current. Telephones jangled and teletypes clattered. Limousines drew up before the State Department building and disgorged briefcase-toting diplomats of the 15 nations fighting, with the U.S., in Korea. In map-hung conference room 5105, where they had been meeting twice a week for months to be briefed on the progress of the war, the diplomats were briefed on the progress of the peace negotiations. On the same afternoon—Wednesday—President Truman summoned his National Security Council, including Secretary of State Dean Acheson, Secretary of Defense George Marshall and seven other top advisers. Next morning the President made his decision on the next step. He said he was "moderately hopeful" that it would bring peace in Korea. The plan was to have General Matthew Ridgway, as U.N. commander, invite the enemy to a field parley.

By 3 p.m. Friday the details were drawn up. Within three hours, Ridgway was carrying out his instructions. Nearly 100 radio stations beamed his words, in English, Korean and Chinese, to "the Commander in Chief, Communist Forces in Korea."

"... I am informed," said the message, "that you may wish a meeting to discuss an armistice providing for the cessation of hostilities and all acts of armed force in Korea, with adequate guarantees for the maintenance of such an armistice. Upon the receipt of word from you that such a meeting is desired I shall be prepared to name my representative . . ." The meeting, Ridgway suggested, could be held aboard the Danish hospital ship Jutlandia in the harbor off Wonsan, a port 70 miles deep in Communist-held territory.

Then came the waiting. Along the battle lines, fighting slackened. South Korean leaders worried over the prospect of a settlement whjch would leave North Korea in Communist hands. Their legislature had already passed a resolution opposing a cease-fire at the 38th parallel. In Pusan, the powerful National Society staged a street rally and, before waving, hand-clapping Koreans, voted for a fight to the finish, immediate disarmament of North Korean Communists, and "international sanctions" against the aggressors' allies. But elsewhere in the non-Communist world, there was only cautious hope.