SOUTH KOREA: Old Men Forget

FOREIGN NEWS

Gunfire rattled again last week through remote cities with names once painfully familiar to U.S. G.I.s — Pusan, Kwangju, Taegu, Taejon, Seoul. Once again, as he had in 1950, South Korea's stubborn, prideful President Syngman Rhee, 85, stood with his back to the wall. But this time Rhee's opponents were not Commu nist invaders. They were South Korea's own eager, patriotic youngsters.

In a single, sudden impulse of youth, South Korea's high school and university students had appointed themselves the guardians of democracy. Their elders had stood by helplessly last March, when Rhee's musclemen flagrantly rigged the vice-presidential election to count out Vice President John M. Chang and "elect" Rhee's chosen heir, ailing Lee Ki Poong. But the students were less docile. Fortnight ago, their anger flared into rioting at the port city of Masan (TIME, April 25). In other cities, other students marched in demonstrations. One warm spring morning last week, it was Seoul's turn.

Briefcases & Bullets. Reported TIME Correspondent Alexander Campbell: "The enormous crowds lining Seoul's sidewalks clapped good-humoredly as rank upon rank of boys and girls marched along the city's main thoroughfares, sturdily swing ing their briefcases and singing patriotic songs. Not far from the presidential pal ace of Kyungmudae (which means man sion of courage and beauty), the students were halted by determined, heavily armed police. The students demanded that Rhee receive a delegation of three or four of their leaders to discuss new elections and to promise no more police intervention on university campuses. When the request was refused, the crowd again pushed forward. A tear-gas shell fell near the front rank of students and failed to explode. When a student moved forward to toss it back, a policeman shot him.

"At that, the whole mass charged forward—and ran into a hail of bullets that left several dead and dying. At this point, Seoul's 30,000 demonstrating students became partly an improvised army seeking weapons and partly a mob bent on destruction. While commandeered Jeeps and vans carried the wounded off to city hospitals, regiments of students, most of them still unbelievably clinging to their satchels full of books, continued to advance on the palace. By now, the building of the pro-government newspaper, Seoul Shinmun, was burning, and so was the headquarters of Rhee's bullyboy Anti-Communist Youth League. From behind the heavy gates of Lee Ki Poong's home, police guards were firing into the crowd. Outside the city hall, students were beating two policemen to death with lead pipes."

A Word to the Cops. By afternoon, Rhee called in Army Chief of Staff Lieut. General Song Yo Chan and placed Seoul under martial law. Rumbling into town with old Sherman tanks, the 15th ROK Infantry Division took over from the hated police. Genial, able General Song was firm, but his sympathies clearly lay with the students. "Call on me any time," he told a student delegation. As for the police, he warned bluntly: "Policemen found beating, torturing or abusing anyone will be dealt with under martial law."