El Salvador The Battle for San Salvador

With the world's attention focused on Eastern Europe, no one expected the resurgence of an ugly little war in a troubled little country on the American continent. Certainly not the El Salvadoran armed forces, or the U.S. Government, which funds the Salvadoran military to the tune of $85 million a year. Or the 5 million war-weary citizens of El Salvador. All had been encouraged by two recent rounds of peace talks to hope that a settlement in El Salvador's ten-year civil war might be in the offing. Even when the talks broke off three weeks ago amid a surge in civilian killings and rumors of a guerrilla offensive, no one imagined that the war would be brought from the countryside right into the capital. But there are two roads to peace: one paved with goodwill, the other littered with dead bodies. Last week the rebels of the Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front (F.M.L.N.) took the road less traveled in recent years, and the savage fighting that resulted will leave Salvadorans reeling for months to come.

The war that returned to El Salvador was vengeful and bloody. In the worst slaughter of the decade, 3,500 leftist rebels battled government troops all week in the streets of San Salvador and in many of the country's 14 regions. The death toll: at least 208 troops, 676 guerrillas and hundreds -- no one knows precisely -- of civilians. Thousands more were wounded.

Most cold-blooded was the brutal slaying of six Jesuit priests, which seemed to symbolize all that is wrong in El Salvador. While no one has claimed responsibility, immediate suspicion centered on the country's resurgent right- wing death squads. In the predominantly Roman Catholic country, angry accusations and outrage over the barbaric murders were certain to linger long after the battle had died. And for the U.S., they raised once again the moral dilemma of aiding a country where such acts have repeatedly gone unpunished.

With his country's security threatened, President Alfredo Cristiani declared a state of siege on the second day of fighting, suspending constitutional liberties and imposing strict curfews. It was not only the sudden flare-up of the long-stalemated situation that caught Salvadorans by surprise, but it was also the scope and intensity of the conflagration. Until now, the F.M.L.N. has relied primarily on the traditional hit-and-run tactics of guerrilla warfare, never winning, but never losing decisively. By taking their battle to the capital, the rebels were forced to stand their ground in a more conventional way. But the guerrillas lack the equipment to rival the Salvadoran army's U.S.-supplied planes and helicopter gunships, and as a result sustained heavy casualties.

While both sides inflicted civilian casualties, the air attacks by the army appeared to take the highest toll. On the periphery of the capital, the poor neighborhoods believed to be rebel strongholds were repeatedly strafed by rockets and machine-gun fire from above. Some citizens alleged that bombs were indiscriminately dropped in residential areas. Cristiani countered that the government had authorized the use of bombs only where the army had isolated F.M.L.N. units and was reasonably sure civilians would not be injured. In many areas, citizens were forced to abandon their homes, creating a stream of tens of thousands of refugees.