A Battle Ends, a War Begins

Somoza subdues a city, but the dictator's days may be numbered

For five fearful and defiant days, the city of Matagalpa had stood proud: a rebellious stronghold against the mechanized might of Nicaragua's National Guard and its detested dictator, Anastasio Somoza. The sudden and apparently spontaneous uprising by the townspeople did not succeed in bringing down the regime. But the fact that it had occurred at all was symptomatic of the troubles facing Somoza's government. Following on the audacious capture the week before of Managua's National Palace, after which members of the leftist Sandinista National Liberation Front won the release of 59 political prisoners and received safe passage to Panama, the Matagalpa rebellion raised the real likelihood that the days of the Somoza dynasty may be numbered.

The rebellion ended almost as suddenly as it began. In the face of a blazing onslaught by National Guardsmen armed with submachine guns and backed up by armored cars, the youthful rebels took off their masks, hid their arms and abandoned their resistance. But not before the government forces had strafed and bombed the city and gunned down the innocent along with the insurgents. The toll: 30 dead, at least 200 wounded.

The National Guard's conquest of Matagalpa climaxed the second week of a drive by opponents of the regime to force the resignation of Somoza, 52, whose family has ruled Nicaragua since 1933. Somoza's monopoly of much of the country's industry and business and the National Guard's brutalization of the rural population have served to unite the opposition, which now ranges from the extreme left to extreme right. After the Sandinista assault on the palace, the Broad Opposition Front, a coalition of political and business groups, called a general strike to last until Somoza resigned.

In Matagalpa (pop. 61,000) a thriving coffee-and cattle-farming center in the mountains 80 miles north of Managua, youths immediately covered some of the streets with broken glass to ensure compliance with the strike. The young rebels, mostly teenagers, then went around accumulating--by force, in some cases--small arms, rifles and shotguns from residents of the city. By Sunday morning, Aug. 27, los muchachos (the boys) had enough firepower to start what they described as the "people's war against the Somoza regime."

The National Guard quickly moved in reinforcements. On Tuesday afternoon, without warning, it launched a three-hour aerial attack, concentrating on the poor barrios in the hills around the city. Visiting Matagalpa shortly after the attack, TIME Mexico City Bureau Chief Bernard Diederich found the hospitals filled with wounded. At least 17 people were dead. Many residents had fled the city, but those who remained were defiant. "We know they are going to bomb us again," said an elderly woman. "It shows what a barbaric regime we are living under."

Reported Diederich: "Piles of lettuce and carrots lay rotting alongside empty stalls of the central market on Morazan Park. Just a few people ventured along the streets, holding white flags. Others stood in their doorways, moving back into their adobe-walled homes and shops when a rifle cracked close by. 'That's the National Guard,' said a bare-chested man hearing a shot. 'They have the big-sounding guns.'

"At a street corner, three masked youths demanded identification. Armed with small revolvers, they stressed that 'this is the people's fight.' While they are sympathetic to the Sandinistas, they said that few of them were actually members of the rebel organization. 'We all want Somoza to go,' added a youth, echoing a sentiment heard over and over in the town.

There was a burst of gunfire, then a Guard patrol, walkie-talkies crackling, passed by. The patrol had just come from the little five-room Hotel Soza, where they had burst in and raked the reception room with machine-gun fire. Four people, including the hotel owner's wife and a maid, were killed. Though none of them had been armed, the Guard later claimed the four were extremistas. To justify their killings, the Guard mounted a pathetic Exhibit A, consisting of Sandinista poems, a box of nails and Gerber baby-food jars (often used to make bombs), and several shotgun shells. Witnesses said the patrol had shot up the hotel because no one responded to their knocking when they sought refuge from sniper fire."

From his bunker in Managua, Somoza defended the Guard's actions in Matagalpa. The general, a graduate of West Point who speaks English fluently, compared the rebels to "Bronx street gangs--just juvenile delinquents." While admitting that the general strike had grown worse, he insisted he would not resign before his term ends in 1981. To do otherwise, he said, would "betray the aspirations of the people of Nicaragua to live in a free society."

Somoza's refusal to step down presents a dilemma for American policymakers. The U.S. has long supported the dynasty as a stronghold of antiCommunism; Somoza often paraded around Central America as if he were a U.S. proconsul. Washington is anxious to change that image, but it does not want to see a power vacuum that could be filled by a pro-Castro regime. The U.S. has, however, taken soundings of Nicaragua's neighbors. Said an Administration official: "The consensus is that the sooner Somoza gets out, the better."

Businessmen, intellectuals and churchmen are now united in their conviction that the longer the present situation continues, the greater the danger of a coup from either the left or the extreme right. Says Adolfo Calero, a prominent conservative politician: "The conservatives want it known that in Nicaragua there are democratic forces that represent the great majority of the people who have placed themselves in civil opposition to this government." Adds Alfonso Robelo Callejas, a wealthy industrialist: "We feel more than ever the urgency to get rid of Somoza and the government because his presence provokes such [terrorist] actions."

No one person stands out as a potential leader--but then Nicaraguans have too long had their leaders foisted upon them. The only answer, many people now feel, is a genuinely free election --and not the usual ballot-stuffing kind in which votes are bought by handing out five cordobas (about 70-c-) and a bottle of guaro (cheap rum) to the poor and illiterate. Failing that, they fear that Matagalpa is likely to be remembered as only one in a chain of bloody rebellions.

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