"Liquidated in Blood"

Tight as a cocklebur Dictator-President Antonio Oscar de Fragoso Carmona stuck to the saddle of the restless Republic of Portugal last week, a saddle in which he has ridden for the past five years.

For the 23rd time since King Manoel was driven from his throne in 1910, revolution flared. The igniting spark was the removal from office of Minister of War Col. Schiappa de Azevedo. who had refused to sign deportation orders against the army officers accused of participating in the last Portuguese revolution, the ruckus in April on the island of Madeira (TIME, May 11). Immediately two raggle taggle bands of soldiers, officers, civilians rushed the third artillery in Lisbon garrison and Sao Jorge fortress on the heights above the city, seized cannon and machine guns, pasted up proclamations defying the Government, dug themselves in. Few revolutionists have been so stupid or so brave. Truckloads of loyal troops crashed through the streets, surrounded the rebels and opened a withering fire. It kept up for nine hours.

A few officers at the Alverca Airdrome joined the revolt and took off with a load of bombs. No fools were Commander America Sanchez and Lieut. Manoel Vazquez. Commander Sanchez joined the revolution, swooped back & forth over the roofs of Lisbon firing his machine gun. He suddenly decided that there was little future in the revolt, turned his plane's nose east and came down safely in Spain. Lieut. Vazquez went up with a crate of nearly 200 hand grenades and spent a busy hour tossing them over the side, trying to hit the Presidential Palace. When his crate was empty he swooped down to see what damage he had done, saw it was small, flew off to Spain in disgust. Spanish authorities immediately interned both these prudent airmen.

In the streets the Lisbon citizenry did considerable execution by hurling home made bombs at each other. At nightfall a few survivors of the besieged rebels in the forts managed to escape to the mountains after a savage skirmish in the Lisbon Zoological Gardens.

In wine-shipping Oporto there was little bloodshed but excited crowds hung out the old blue & white monarchist flags and cheered for that amiable flaneur, ex-King Manoel.

In Madrid someone threw a bomb into the parlor of the Portuguese Embassy. Ambassador Joao Carlos de Mello Barreto and his wife retreated hastily to the next room, waited with fingers in their ears till the bomb exploded, wrecking the furniture. Spain's President Niceto Alcala Zamora hurried round to express his deep est regrets.

By nightfall Portugal was quiet. Lisbon was under martial law. No one was al lowed on the streets without a safe conduct pass.

"The revolution," announced General Carmona, "has been liquidated in blood."

Two days later two long lines of coffins passed through the streets of Lisbon. In the nine hours of fighting 80 people had lost their lives, 300 were wounded. Behind the flag-draped coffins of the loyal soldiers walked spry, spare General Carmona, his jaw clenched, his head up. Government officials announced that two leaders of the revolt, Major Sarmento de Beires (who flew to Brazil in 1927) and Col. Diaz Antunes will not face a firing squad but will be sent to disintegrate in swampy, fever-ridden Portuguese West Africa.

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