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The National Guard, increasingly trigger-nervous as the widespread support for the Sandinistas became apparent, tried to prevent newsmen from following the war. But TIME Mexico City Bureau Chief Bernard Diederich, a veteran of Central American conflict, slipped into Masaya. His report:
"Two days after the Sandinista attack, the guardia launched a counteroffensive, and the centuries-old town of 45,000 people was sealed tight for three days without water, food or electricity. As in other towns, like Esteli, people were finally forced to scoop up water from puddles in the street. 'We have been living for days on the floor. All this shooting, my God, Hail Mary!' moaned one old woman as she paced on her patio fingering her rosary beads.
"Not only was there shooting but many of the low adobe buildings, including 50 stores and the 87-year-old central market, were burned out. The buildings caught fire when los muchachos inexpertly hurled Molotov cocktails at the guardia. But most Masayans appeared forgiving. When one man complained that his car had been incinerated by the inept bomb-throwers, another said, 'We must make sacrifices if Somoza is to go.' The crowd around them agreed.
"How many had died, no one knew. Said a young man carrying a flour sack as a white flag—a safety device quickly adopted by the populace: 'Everyone is burying the dead in backyard patios or gardens, wherever they fall or wherever there is soil. I helped bury five today.' At one government-owned building where Somoza's picture was displayed, someone had pasted a red-and-black flag of the FSLN on the wall outside. Infuriated guardsmen drove an armored car into the building, plastered the place with bullets and tear gas, and shot down Maria Jesús Gadea, 32, as she stood protectively over her four terrified children. The dead woman's two teen-age daughters scooped a shallow grave in the patio near by for their mother.
"No one ran in Masaya. 'To run is to commit suicide,' explained one man. As I walked out of the city I was halted by the guardia sweating in their U.S.-supplied flak jackets. They were frightening, because one could see that they were frightened. On the grass was a well-dressed youth who had just been hauled out of a house. A soldier stood with his rifle pointed at the young man's head. Tears rolled down the boy's face. He looked like someone who knew he was going to die. An elderly soldier examined my press credentials and ordered me to leave Masaya. The guard did not want any witnesses."