International: Wretched Capital

One day last week a bearded Korean elder, dignified and prim in starched white robe and black horsehair hat, picked his way along a reeking, raucous, filth-strewn alley in Pusan. He ignored the ragged, swarming children and the whining beggar women, who envied the succulent prize which the old man had in his hand. It was the gamy carcass of an alley cat and it was headed for the cooking pot.

Ten-Mile Stench. Pusan is a city of filth, poverty and disease—yet it is the major supply port of the Korean war. Its harbor is...

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