Island War

In the first light of dawn, the sleepy Siak River town of Pakanbaru was wakened by the tumultuous honking and crying of thousands of disturbed jungle birds. Swarms of Sumatran fireflies, which travel in whirling galaxies resembling slowly moving fireballs, abruptly vanished. Then came the snarl of planes as a flight of old, U.S. -made F-51s swept in to strafe the shacks and hangars of Simpang Tiga airstrip, six miles southwest of town. After them came 16 lumbering transport planes; as they passed overhead, the sun-streaked sky blossomed with silken parachutes that brought 200 paratroopers to earth.

Tea & Surrender. As easily as that, the Indonesian government last week regained control of Pakanbaru, the heart of the U.S.-owned Caltex oilfields. The rebel commander, Major Sjamsi Nurdin, and his 800 troops were taken completely by surprise. Even worse, the rebels had cleared the airstrip of oil drums only the day before, to enable trucks to pick up guns and ammunition dropped by a four-engined plane of unidentified nationality.

The government forces captured a rebel arms cache--75 bazookas, three recoilless guns, twelve machine guns--described as being of "American manufacture." By noon, transport planes had built up the government's force to 500 men. Rebel Major Nurdin, after a few token exchanges of fire, retreated westward in good order toward Padang.

Earlier in the week, government landing parties had seized control of islands dotting the mouth of the Siak River, and captured the oil terminus of Dumai. On Bengkalis Island a rebel platoon watched interestedly as an army transport steamed leisurely up to the dock like an excursion steamer, tied up, and disgorged a file of government troops who sauntered down the gangplank like tourists. The rebel platoon leader surrendered and everyone sat down and had tea.

Hundreds of U.S. and European employees of the oil companies were herded protectively into company compounds, but it was hard to say what they were being protected from. "Mucha musica pero poca opera," said a grizzled engineer, quoting the old Nicaraguan proverb: Lots of noise but little action. Although most of the $125 million worth of oil installations had been prudently shut down several days before the invasion, one U.S. contracting company, disregarding the war, kept right at work on a road and pipeline linking the oilfields with the seacoast. Caltex announced that, with government permission, it would resume operations this week.

First Allies. Across the mountainous spinal column of Sumatra, the rebel colonels holed up around Padang and Bukittinggi and breathed defiance. Rebel Premier Sjafruddin cried that if Sukarno "were now in our midst, he would be hanged as a war criminal." The rebel radio charged that Sukarno had been a Communist since 1955. Posters and wall signs denounced Sukarno as a murderer, an immoral man and worse. Rebel Colonel Ahmad Husein. who is apparently acting as overall military commander, broadcast somewhat superfluously that "from this moment on, we do not recognize Sukarno as President of the Indonesian Republic."

But though the rebels had done badly in their first battle with government troops, there was evidence that Pakanbaru might be a Pyrrhic victory for Sukarno. Aroused by the government invasion of their Sumatran homeland, other commanders opted for the rebels. A North Sumatran regiment stationed at Tarutung chased its Djakarta-appointed commander out of town; in Medan, the largest city in Sumatra, U.S.-trained Major Boyk Nangolan led the garrison in a revolt against Sukarno, seized the airfield and drove the few loyalist troops out of the city. In the far north of the island, the always pugnacious Atjehnese were reported on the brink of declaring for the rebel cause; in South Sumatra the ruling Colonel Barlian was being heavily pressured by his junior officers to come out for the rebels.

Mixed Confidence. President Sukarno, in Djakarta, seemed cockily confident that the rebels were doomed. He cordially welcomed newly appointed U.S. Ambassador Howard P. Jones, assured him that he "did not take back a word" of all the good things he had had to say about the U.S. on his American visit two years ago.* But a few days later, Sukarno was barnstorming through East Java and Celebes, warning troubled crowds that unnamed "foreign powers" were backing the rebels in an attempt to drag Indonesia into one of the world blocs. Since the rebels are stoutly antiCommunist, it was clear that Sukarno was not referring to the Soviets.

At week's end Sukarno viewed a massive parade in Djakarta in which Indonesia's red-and-white flag was flanked by dozens of huge Communist banners. Workers of the Communist-run SOBSI labor federation gave Sukarno the clenched-fist salute as they marched past, but Bung Karno, who is becoming increasingly a prisoner of Communist support, neither smiled nor returned the salute. Sukarno delivered an impassioned speech to 25,000 followers at the Merdeka Palace, denouncing Sumatra's rebel colonels as traitors, crying: "If the common people stay imbued with the revolutionary spirit, the counterrevolution in Sumatra will be bulldozed!" The crowd cried for more, but after 20 minutes of demagoguery, Bung Karno begged off. "Frankly," he said, "I'm tired."

*The Indonesian Foreign Ministry announced that all TIME and LIFE correspondents were barred from the country; TIME'S March 10 issue, containing the Sukarno cover story, was banned--but only after it had appeared on newsstands and sold out.

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