The U.S. v. the Generals

The Americans in Saigon were not quite sure what to call it. Some spoke of a purge, others of a coup or a semi-coup. Whatever it was, it threatened more than semi-disaster.

South Viet Nam's government is, of course, always in crisis. But for the fourth time in 131 months the crisis again became acute. Each time it had seemed as if the agony could not continue, as if there simply could be no further political twists-and each time there were more. The really alarming aspect last week was that with 22,000 men in Viet Nam and an aid investment totaling $3.5 billion, Washington seemed to have lost what little control of events it had retained. As a result, the U.S. found itself maneuvered into an incredible public clash with the very Vietnamese generals who were supposed to be leading the anti-Communist war. Lieut. General Nguyen Khanh, who only a few months ago was proclaimed by the U.S. to be the best hope of American policy in Viet Nam, was now bitterly attacking the U.S-and being bitterly attacked by the American ambassador.

Room for a Comeback. As usual, the latest crisis was a continuation of earlier intrigue. Forced to relinquish the premiership last October, Commander in Chief Khanh had never given up hope of a comeback. One of his problems was how to neutralize an old enemy, General Duong Van ("Big") Minh. Meanwhile, a group of younger second-echelon officers, inevitably known as the "Young Turks," were also spoiling for influence, and their targets were the five "Dalat generals," so nicknamed because of a period of arrest they had spent during 1964 in the mountain resort of Dalat. Released re cently, the five, according to the Young Turks, had been plotting with the rampant Buddhists. Fortnight ago the Turks demanded the retirement of all officers with 25 or more years of service-which would catch the Dalat group.

Since the same decree would also retire Big Minh, Khanh threw in with the Turks, joined them in organizing a 20-general "Council of the Armed Forces," with the stated purpose of improving discipline.

Always on Sunday. Civilian Chief of State Phan Khac Suu, 63, whose signature was required to legalize the retirement ruling, buck-passed the matter to the High National Council. A civilian board set up after the anti-Khanh riots last August ostensibly to supervise the transition to constitutional rule, the council had been ridiculed as "the Na tional Museum"; it was divided, ineffectual, and more or less pro-Buddhist. The council refused to go along with the military's request.

Subsequent events were almost a ritual. There was the usual nighttime powwow by the angered officers. Before dawn the next day, Sunday-it seems to be always on Sunday-there were ominous troop movements in Saigon. Reportedly the operation was directed by Brigadier General Nguyen Chanh Thi, the mustached, intense commander of the I Corps in the northern region, and Air Vice Marshal Nguyen Cao Ky, who affects harlequin glasses and a pearl-handled revolver. Squads of police sped through Saigon's darkened streets, arresting seven council members and a dozen-odd politicians and student leaders.

Exempted from the roundup were the country's power-hungry Buddhist monks, who for a month had been fighting to topple Huong. At the Saigon central pagoda, where 6,000 Buddhists had gathered, a visibly subdued Thich Tarn Chau, head of the Buddhist political bureau, announced: "For the time being, just pray and go home."

Test of Wills. Taken completely by surprise, U.S. Ambassador Maxwell Taylor and Deputy Ambassador U. Alexis Johnson met four representatives of the Armed Forces Council-Thi, Ky, Navy Commander Vice Admiral Chung Tan Gang, and Brigadier General Nguyen Van Thieu, commander of the southernmost IV Corps. Gist of Gen eral Taylor's position: the High National Council had provided at least a semblance of representative government; if the military did not hand the reins back to the Council or some civilian body, there would be cuts in promised U.S. aid, and the still-vague plans to interdict Viet Cong supply lines in Laos might be dropped.

The four officers listened, but went ahead and called a press conference, at which they insisted that the High National Council had been dissolved in the national interest and would stay dissolved-although they proclaimed continued support for Chief of State Suu and Premier Tran Van Huong.

Then began a stubborn test of wills between the U.S. embassy and the generals. The U.S. was banking on the fact that only continued American aid could help the generals survive, let alone win, the war against the Viet Cong; the generals were banking on the belief that the U.S. need to keep the war going was even more desperate than theirs.

Stinging Thrust. After two days Khanh revealed his support of the Young Turks. He also condemned the High National Council and asserted the army's right to intervene in government affairs whenever "disputes and differences create a situation favorable to the common enemies: Communism and colonialism." As for the U.S., he had a stinging thrust: "We make sacrifices for the country's independence and the people's liberty, but not to carry out the policy of any foreign country."

There were two factors (at least) behind Khanh's new nationalist. anti-American line. For one thing, he was trying to outdistance the Buddhists in that department, and apparently succeeding. For another, there was growing personal hostility between Khanh and Maxwell Taylor. Senior Americans in Saigon hinted strongly that Khanh must quit. When Khanh asked if it would be helpful for him to leave the country, Taylor reportedly replied with a flat yes. Moreover, one American complaint suddenly heard in Saigon was that Khanh had no principles-a naive, belated and irrelevant discovery.

In an interview with New York Herald Tribune Correspondent Beverly Deepe, Khanh zeroed in on Taylor. "His attitude during the last 48 hours-as far as my small head is concerned -has been beyond imagination," said Khanh. "If General Taylor does not act more intelligently, the U.S. will lose Southeast Asia and we will lose our freedom." The U.S., said Khanh, must "work with the decisive elements in the nation," meaning the army. "You must be more realistic and not have a dream of having Viet Nam be an image of the United States."

Single Bulwark. To some critics of American policy, it seemed that Khanh was right when he accused Washington of dreaming. It can be argued that there is nothing wrong with a military dictatorship in a war-torn country; that even in peacetime many Asian nations can function only under such rule; and that the army is, after all, the only halfway stable and reliable force in South Viet Nam. Is the U.S. trying to apply the good government standards of the League of Women Voters in a country that could not possibly understand the workings of democracy?

The State Department indignantly denied all such imputations of idealism. U.S. policy was opposed to military rule, State argued persuasively, because the generals had tried it twice before and failed; they lacked the experience, the patience and the popular support to run the country. But obviously no civilian had been able to run the country either.

Still, Taylor insisted that Huong had made a promising start-but that he could not govern with the army holding the real power. In part at least, Taylor was acting with an eye on the Buddhists, who were also demanding a return to civil rule. Perhaps this might yet be brought about in one of those face-saving devices that in Viet Nam are as frequent as coups. Adding to the uproar, a well-timed bomb presumably planted by the Viet Cong blasted the Brink Hotel in downtown Saigon, which serves as a U.S. officers' quarters, injuring 98 people, including 63 Americans, and killing two Americans.

Much of all this was a shuddering reminder of the endless, circular debates during the Diem era, when the U.S. decided that Diem must go because the war could not be won without political stability in Saigon-while a minority argued that there could be no political stability until the war was at best beginning to be won. By again arguing that nothing could really be accomplished in South Viet Nam until Saigon had a more or less stable civilian government of "national unity," Washington was probably insisting on the impossible. And by publicly quarreling with the army while pinning its hopes on Suu, Huong and the civilians of the High National Council, the U.S. just might be staking its whole position in South Viet Nam on two old men and a museum.

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