A Pheasant Screamed

The dawn broke clean and sharp. In their cages near by, two lions stretched, began their endless prowling. A caged cock pheasant woke screaming. A hare ran quickly over the brittle, dew-smirched summer grass. Stripped to the waist, two men faced each other --one young (32), lean and handsome, the other older (51), swarthy, heavy-shouldered.

This was more than an affair of honor between two men. Here, near a private zoo inside the walled gardens of the Villalos Granados, 20 miles from Buenos Aires, a duel was to be fought between principals who symbolized the basic cleavage in Argentine politics : Deputy Raul Damonte Taborda, leader of thwarted liberals, and Colonel Enrique Rottjer, prototype of the ruling conservatives.

As deputy leader of the Radical (liberal) Party, young Damonte had been blunt in his criticism of Argentina's failure to break diplomatic relations with the Axis.

As head of a special committee of the Chamber of Deputies investigating un-Argentine activities, he had rooted out Nazi agents. Demanding honest elections at home, he had turned his scorn on some of his fellow Argentines. The scorn struck hot-tempered Colonel Rottjer.

Not With Pistols. Raul Damonte Taborda had charged that Colonel Rottjer, while Interventor in Buenos Aires Prov ince, permitted fraudulent election practices, thereby disgracing the uniform he wore. That was why the two men faced each other now. Wrists had been band aged, heavy double-edged sabers examined. The points were sharp as needles; front cutting edges "and the first third of each back edge were razor keen.

The director of the duel, Army Fencing Master Colonel Aniceto Rodrigues, punctiliously following the Code Duello, in vited the two principals to a reconciliation. Both refused. The director stepped back from the line of combat, clapped his hands.

Steel struck steel with a bitter twang.

Rottjer's long arm reached out firmly, cut and thrust. Damonte parried, thrust savagely. Before the first two-minute bout was over, blood flowed from both men's forearms.

The second bout was savage. Rottjer carved a collop from Damonte's chest.

Angered, acquitting himself surprisingly well for a man who had never used the saber, Damonte pinked Rottjer's forearm, sliced through the thick hairs on his opponent's chest and left a trail of blood.

Visibly weakening in the third bout, Rottjer managed to nip Damonte's shoulder, then gritted his teeth as Damonte's blade cut deep into his own right wrist.

Director Rodrigues intervened. The seconds had arranged that the duel should last --not, as usual, until one man was pinked--until one showed "evident inferiority." By a vote of 3-to-1, attending physicians awarded the engagement to Damonte. Again the director sought a reconciliation. Again he was refused.

Scowling and bloody, the protagonists left the field of honor, still as bitter as the political camps they represented.

Not Against Tear Gas. These camps were to go to battle at the polls over the weekend. At stake: 85 of the 158 seats in the Chamber of Deputies. The chief issue : neutrality v. a vigorous pro-Ally foreign policy. Deputy Damonte's Radicals, favoring full cooperation with the Allies, hoped to keep control of the Chamber against the isolationist Conservative Concordancia (coalition) of Acting President Ramon S. Castillo. His duel had made Damonte a hero. But when he attempted to speak at a rally that same evening, the meeting was dispersed by tear gas.

Against such weapons as tear gas and bans on political discussion, a saber in a man's hand could do little. The Radicals canceled further meetings. At the last minute they abstained from voting in strategic Buenos Aires Province, charging that the ballot count would be "tinged with fraud."

First reports of the election recounted the usual fraud charges, reported men killed when trucks carrying them to vote were overturned. Acting President Castillo himself was turned away from the polls, had to go home and bring back proper credentials. The voting was light. There was an apathy in Argentina, a tendency to retreat from the saber-sharp facts of world politics. Like many another who had fought the good fight, Damonte appeared to be on the losing side. But his honor was still bright.

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