The New Junta

Colonel Carlos Castillo Armas, the deadpan little insurgent who overthrew the pro-Communist government of Guatemala, came back in triumph last week to his country's capital. Guatemalans greeted him with firecrackers, kisses and backslapping embraces. At the bunting-draped central plaza, where 20,000 people yelled themselves hoarse, a huge picture of the rebel leader hung from the palace and cathedral bells pealed joyously. Later, as he had said he would, Castillo Armas dined in the palace.

Castillo Armas was not yet boss. In peace negotiations, the presidency of the ruling junta had been won, temporarily, by a fellow officer and an old schoolmate, Colonel Elfego Monzon, who had taken the leading part in the palace revolution that followed Castillo Armas' armed invasion. But the crowd went wild for Castillo Armas alone.

How much did the U.S. have to do with the turn of events? No matter who furnished the arms to Castillo Armas, it was abundantly clear that U.S. Ambassador John E. Peurifoy masterminded most of the changes once Castillo Armas began his revolt. It was he who helped spot the phoniness of the first palace change, and it was he who saw to it that the new government was solidly antiCommunist.

A Doublecross. At the beginning of last week. President Jacobo Arbenz,* who had persisted in typical Communist butchery in his last days in office (see below), had stepped down in favor of Colonel Carlos Enrique Diaz, chief of the armed forces. But Castillo Armas, convinced that Diaz was just a front for Arbenz, had said as much by going on with his war, notably by bombing Guatemala City's Matamoros Fort. Peurifoy agreed heartily with Castillo Armas' action. The ambassador had learned that under a cover of vocal antiCommunism, the doublecrossing Diaz was letting Arbenz' Red advisers run to safety. Diaz was clearly no change. Peurifoy got in touch with Monzon, known as an outspoken antiCommunist.

The bombing, meanwhile, had knocked the fight out of Diaz. At 2 a.m. he phoned the ambassador. "Senor Peurifoy," he said, "please come to my house.'' With a .38 Colt in his shoulder holster. Peurifoy drove through the empty, fear-haunted streets to the armed forces headquarters, where Diaz was staying. Diaz brought up a plan to talk peace with Castillo Armas in the neighboring republic of El Salvador. But even as they talked, other officers in the next room were openly grumbling that Diaz ought to be booted for his softness to the Communists. Uneasily aware of this, Diaz abruptly stood up and went in to stall them.

Peurifoy waited, thoughtfully checking his pistol as the argument in the next room got to the explosive stage. Then an outside door burst open, and Colonel Monzon entered with two other colonels. They said nothing as they strode through the room to join Diaz and the others, but one of the men slapped his holster significantly. Diaz, with a Tommy gun in his ribs, was unceremoniously escorted to a side door. Monzon reappeared. "My colleague Diaz has decided to resign," he explained suavely. "I am replacing him." That was an authentic change, and Peurifoy energetically set to work arranging for peace talks in San Salvador.

A Bleak Deadlock. Next day Castillo Armas and Monzon flew to San Salvador for the first meeting in the gingerbread presidential palace. In high hopes, the two old friends started talks at 3 p.m. But twelve hours later, there was only a bleak deadlock. The issue: Which of them should take top power and responsibility? Sleepless Jack Peurifoy learned in alarm of the impasse and caught a plane to San Salvador. Looking like a dashing sportsman in a green Tyrolean hat and checked jacket, he talked separately with Monzon and Castillo Armas (whom he met there for the first time), then brought them together. He hammered home the idea that the good of Guatemala demanded a compromise. The proud colonels began to give ground, but it was 5 o'clock the next morning before they sat down under a crystal chandelier and signed a temporary power-sharing agreement.

Next Crisis. For Peurifoy, two crises were past, but another will follow soon. The colonels' agreement left Monzon heading a junta of five officers--two of his own followers plus Castillo Armas and another rebel colonel. After 15 days, the junta is to choose a President to govern until democratic elections can be held.

The instability of this arrangement was obvious, and made all the more so by Castillo Armas' triumphal reception in the capital. Sick of Red terrorism and full of respect for a fighting, anti-Communist crusader, the people quite plainly preferred Castillo Armas to Palace Revolutionary Monzon. "Libertador!" they hailed the little colonel.

*Two months ago, Ambassador Peurifoy, asked about the Arbenz regime's prospects, had quipped: "We are making out our Fourth of July reception invitations, and we are not including any of the present administration."

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