48 Hours to Midnight

In a villa by Lac Leman, three men hunched over a great man of Indo-China late one night last week. One was the Communist Viet Minh's Pham Van Dong; another was France's Premier Pierre Mendes-France; the third was Albert Sarraut, an oldtime French empire builder who had been governor of Indo-China in lordlier days when there were no such irritants as the Viet Minh. Each had a red pencil in his hand. Beneath their hands the map was slashed with red lines, until Viet Nam began to look like a body crisscrossed with bloody welts. On the lawn outside, a dog howled at the moon.

At midnight the meeting broke up. "Agreement is near," yawned a sleepy French official. Mendes had only 24 hours left to make good on his pledge to get peace or resign.

D-Day-Minus-One. Mendes had begun that day, the next to last before his deadline, faced with new demands 1) from China's Chou En-lai for a slice of northern Laos to be attached to China's province of Yunnan, and 2) from Pham Van Dong for more than a third of Laos to be handed over to the "free" Pathet Laos movement. Heavy black circles under his eyes, Mendes had picked up his faithful backer Anthony Eden, rushed off to see Chou Enlai.

The argument that followed, said a Frenchman, was "Homeric." After two hours Mendes got Chou to abandon his grab for Laotian territory, and to withdraw most of his support for the Pathet Laos claims. In exchange, Mendes accepted Communist Poland as a member of the three-nation supervisory commission agreed that major decisions should be by unanimous vote, thus yielding the Communists a veto.

Mendes had scarcely returned to his villa Joli-Port when Molotov arrived. Was it true that the U.S. would refuse to sign the agreement? the Russian demanded. If so. the cease-fire might not be acceptable to Russia. Mendes scurried over to the Hotel du Rhone, where U.S. Under Secretary of State Bedell Smith had taken dismally to his bed with lumbago.

Three hours later Mendes was back. He reported to Molotov that the U.S. would refuse to sign the same document as Red China, but would issue a unilateral declaration stating that the U.S. would take a serious view of any violation of an agreed armistice. Molotov accepted this formula with only faint protest. "Ouf!" exclaimed Mendes in relief.

If the Communists were looking for a pretext to break off the talks, Mendes had figured that U.S. "dissociation" was the one they were most likely to pick, since it would let them blame the U.S. for failure. Cheered, he went off to cut up the map with Pham Van Dong in the villa by Lac Leman.

DDay, Tuesday, July 20: The last day of Mendes' 30 dawned sunny and hot. In the morning, Mendes finished his talks with Pham Van Dong. Under pressure of Mendes' stubborn insistence on the 18th parallel as the partition line, Van Dong had moved from the 14th parallel to the 16th. For the first time, Mendes indicated that he might yield a parallel and Van Dong said he might wait for more than a year for elections. At 4 p.m., Eden, Molotov and Van Dong gathered at Le Bocage, another French villa near the lake. While waiting for Mendes, Molotov walked alone under the chestnut trees in the garden, studying some notes. Mendes arrived, wearing sunglasses over his tired eyes and apologizing profusely for being late--he had been entertaining Chou En-lai at a long, lavish lunch. The four went into a huddle. At 5:20 p.m. the word went out: agreement reached. Mendes had accepted the 17th parallel; the Communists had agreed to a delay of two years before Vietnamese elections.

Reporters dashed for telephones and typewriters; the secretaries in the French delegation fell happily into one another's arms. Hastily, the formal signing was arranged for 9 o'clock that evening.

Missed Deadline. But there was a hitch. In a small office in the Palais des Nations, a mild little man reached for a telephone, and called Mendes. He announced himself: Tep Phan, Foreign Minister of the Kingdom of Cambodia. He was sorry, he said apologetically, but he had no intention whatever of signing the projected agreement.

The conferees were stunned. Viet Nam's Foreign Minister Tran Van Do had announced from time to time that he would never accept partition. But Cambodia had scarcely been heard from. Its delegation had arrived late, made little stir, and had figured little in negotiations, since it had not even been invaded by the Viet Minh as had Laos.

The little man was peremptorily summoned, got an irate reception from Mendes, Eden and Molotov. The agreement provided that Cambodia and Laos were to be "neutralized."' But explained Tep Phan politely, Cambodia did not want to be neutralized. The agreement banning any foreign bases violated Cambodia's sovereignty, would deprive it of allies if Cambodia were invaded. French. British and Russian stormed in vain. Molotov denounced the whole thing as an American trick. Bedell Smith was called and asked to reason with the awkward fellow. Tep Than would not budge.

Midnight--Mendes' deadline--came and went. At 2 a.m., the Communists, who plainly wanted their cease-fire badly, gave in to Cambodia's obdurate Tep Phan. Changes in the texts were ordered, to allow Cambodia to call for outside help if it considered its security threatened. Tep Phan was gratified, but he had one more question. Who would pay for the truce operations? Said Molotov with a laugh: "You have won everything else--you at least ought to foot the bill."

The agreements for Laos and Cambodia were the same, Eden then pointed out. If the Communists had made this concession to Cambodia, it ought to be made to Laos, too. Molotov agreed. But the Laotian delegates were already in bed; to get them up would mean more delay, and Mendes was anxious to have something signed. Well, they certainly would welcome the concession, he pointed out. "so let's write it in their agreement and tell them about it in the morning." Secretaries went to work retyping the texts.

Escorting Molotov to the door. Mendes glanced at his watch, and said jestingly: "Mr. Minister, it is after two o'clock. I have lost my bet. Do you think I should resign?" Molotov answered:"You mustn't do that." Said Mendes: "Thank you, Mr. Minister. May I tell the French Parliament that I stayed in office at your insistence?" "I don't think that would help you," said Molotov amiably, and climbed into his curtained black Zis.

Anticlimax. Exhausted, Mendes went to bed. A few minutes later, at 2:42 a.m., the cease-fire agreements for Laos and Viet Nam were signed by second-tier officials in a small room off the main council chamber in the Palais des Nations. The ceremony, watched only by a handful of photographers and minor officials, took just 7 1/2 minutes. Ten hours later, the gallant Cambodians signed the revised agreement that may some day make the difference between freedom and Communist slavery for them and for Laos.

At the plenary session Wednesday afternoon, the eight delegations formally "took note" of the agreements, pledged themselves (as the U.S. did not) to consult on measures "to insure that the cease-fire agreements are respected." Bedell Smith, looking tired and in pain, read the U.S.'s unilateral declaration pledging the U.S. to "refrain from the threat or use of force" to disturb the armistice, and warning that any renewal of aggression would be viewed "with grave concern."

Only Viet Nam's Tran Van Do spoiled the friendly atmosphere. While negotiators and officials celebrated with wine and fine food, he scrawled out a statement: "I tender my resignation ..." Nobody paid any attention to the man who had stood helplessly by while 12 million of his countrymen were passed over into Communist slavery. "Reason and peace have triumphed!" cried Mendes-France.

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