The Creation of Uncle Nguyen

SOUTH VIET NAM

The gleaming black hair is no longer neatly combed back. The mustache has been trimmed. Gone is the dashing Captain Midnight look: tailored black flying suit, violet scarf, pearl-handled .38 revolver. At 37, the Vice President of South Vietnam, Nguyen Cao Ky, has taken to wearing bulky Mao-style suits --and the baggy new look is in keeping with both his sagging political fortunes and his efforts to fashion a new political image.

The change in Ky has come swiftly and dramatically, partly the result of accident, partly of the kind of political intrigue with which Viet Nam seems to abound. Before the Communist Tet offensive, Ky was much more than a ceremonial Vice President alongside his rival, President Nguyen Van Thieu. Liked by American officials in Viet Nam, who admired his charm, his boundless energy and his decisiveness, Ky retained powerful friends in the Vietnamese armed forces--an entourage rated strong enough to overthrow Thieu if it ever came to a showdown. But with Tet and the harrowing onslaught against the Saigon government, the U.S., for the sake of preserving unity in the crisis, could no longer afford to balance between Thieu and Ky. Washington threw its support squarely behind Thieu, and Ky felt left out.

Friends Lost. Moodily brooding over his future, he began making public appearances in a Mao suit, and his pronouncements took on distinctly anti-American and anti-Thieu overtones. "If the Americans want to withdraw, they can go ahead," he told Vietnamese soldiers in Saigon. "We only want people who want to stay." On another occasion he asked his audience: "Why has South Viet Nam not been able to produce a Ho Chi Minh or Vo Nguyen Giap whom the world admires and respects? Why have we been unable to produce such people? Isn't it because our leaders are merely a bunch of servile and corrupt officials?"

Friends fell away. Some were killed in action; others, like Major General Nguyen Ngoc Loan, the fearless, ruthless, but highly effective National Police chief, were wounded in street fighting in Saigon. Two weeks ago, a malfunctioning rocket fired from a U.S. helicopter gunship smashed into a forward command post and in one shattering blow wiped out virtually the whole top level of Saigon's city administration, including four of Ky's most powerful backers. But by far the greatest damage was caused by President Thieu's gradual consolidation of power: without consultation, he fired Premier Nguyen Van Loc, a Ky man, and installed Tran Van Huong, whom the Vice President opposed. Police Chief Loan was replaced by a Thieu backer, and Thieu made similar switches to his own advantage in 14 province-chief posts.

The Best Only. As his backing dwindled rapidly and his depression deepened, Ky slipped away to the seacoast city of Nha Trang, where he paced up and down the beaches, lost in thought. He returned to Saigon briefly last week, but only for a private goodbye to outgoing U.S. Commander William Westmoreland and to resign as head of the recently instituted Civil Defense Committee. "I'm going fishing," he snapped to a palace official, and with that he returned to Nha Trang and isolation.

Nguyen Cao Ky is more likely to attempt a coup than to resign, although neither course seems very likely at the moment. He probably believes that time is his best ally. He wants to change his image, move away from the Americans, and mold a thoroughly nationalist look designed to appeal to the masses and the younger generation; in short, to transform the flashy, daredevil flyboy into a sort of Uncle Nguyen--an antiCommunist, anti-Western and South Vietnamese patriot.

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