COLOMBIA: The Silent War

Largely obscured by more dramatic conflicts in Europe, Africa and Asia, one of history's bloodiest struggles goes silently on in Colombia. In the eight-year-old strife between the Colombian army and anti-government guerrillas, the death toll, according to President Gustavo Rojas Pinilla, tops 100,000—three times greater than battle deaths among U.S. forces in Korea—in a country with a population of only 13 million. Last week TIME correspondent Piero Saporiti toured the front lines of this almost-forgotten battleground. His report:

The first, faint light of dawn silhouetted rugged peaks, then picked out the barracks, the ammunition depot and the sandbagged trench surrounding a hilltop army outpost called Praga in the Colombian Andes. Praga's commander, a lieutenant, was not there; he and most of his platoon had been called away to chase cattle thieves, leaving a corporal in charge. A yawning sentry leaned on a bayoneted rifle; 17 soldiers slept.

Suddenly the hillside came alive with scores of poncho-clad men, armed with guns and machetes, and charging silently toward the post. A dog barked. The sentry got off only one shot before an answering bullet caught him, but it was enough to rouse the garrison. Half-naked, the soldiers, boys of 20 or less, rushed to their battle stations and began to fire. All day long, in wave after wave, the attackers stormed the post. At nightfall, as the assailants grouped for a last charge, only the corporal, who was wounded in one leg, and a private were left alive. The corporal drenched the post's ammunition supply with gasoline, limped away into the safety of darkness with the private, then tossed back a hand grenade. The tremendous blast and towering flames were noted miles away by the lieutenant and the rest of the platoon. They returned after ten hours of hard marching, in time to bury the dead and hear the survivors story.

The guerrillas, foiled in their quest for arms and ammunition, had melted away. Avenging troops, pouring grimly in toward Praga last week, were able to round up and kill only eight of the outlaws.

The Colombian Temper. The clash at Praga, hot, fierce, and fought to the bitter end, was typical of this strange, confused, nearly meaningless war. Its causes are rooted deep in Colombian history and temperament, a striking national indifference to death and lust for combat going back to the battles and matings of the fearless Spanish conquistadors and the warlike native Chibcha Indians. Since Colombia became independent in 1819, the bloodshed has come mainly from Liberals fighting Conservatives, often in protest against a political defeat.