Nixon at the Brink over Viet Nam

RARELY had so perfunctory an occasion been so raptly watched. There in the White House to pay a courtesy call on the President and exchange a few ideas about world trade were Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin and Moscow's Foreign Trade Minister, Nikolai Patolichev. Every flicker of emotion on the faces of the visitors could be vastly portentous. Suddenly, newsmen were invited into the Oval Office. They were astonished. The Russians were grinning and laughing and exchanging lively banter with the President over how to say "friendship" in two languages.

Deceptive as that signal might yet prove to be, it relieved the grim tension that had enveloped Washington. For the moment, at least, a showdown between the two superpowers had been averted. Not since the Cuban missile crisis of 1962 had the possibility of armed conflict between the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. loomed so large. This time the arena of conflict was half a world away in the Gulf of Tonkin, rather than 90 miles from the U.S. mainland, and this time, fortunately, there was no deadline ultimatum requiring immediate response. The feeling that the worst was past was reinforced by Patolichev's nonchalant response to a newsman's question: Was President Nixon's May 22 summit visit to Moscow still on? "We never had any doubts about it. I don't know why you asked." There were ritual denunciations of the U.S. from Moscow and Peking. But while the language was harsh, no specific action was threatened. At week's end Hanoi's negotiators in Paris even seemed willing to talk peace some more, although still on their own restrictive terms.

Ready to Settle. The crisis had been created by the most momentous military decision Richard Nixon had yet made in his presidency: to mine the harbors of North Viet Nam and cut off the flow of all military supplies to Hanoi from any other nation, by almost any means. He had acted because his whole Vietnamization policy and his hope for an honorable U.S. withdrawal from the war seemed threatened by a massive, two-month-old North Vietnamese offensive, armed and fueled by the Soviet Union. His decision, made virtually alone and in the face of grave dissension within his Administration, also grew out of an almost obsessive fear of national and personal humiliation in Viet Nam.

The way that decision was reached illustrates with disturbing clarity the President's total domination of the vital arena of war and peace--and the total lack of effective checks and balances under a Constitution that is in other respects so careful to prevent arbitrary action (see TIME ESSAY, page 18).

The President began considering new military moves soon after Communist troops swept across the DMZ with tanks and heavy artillery on Easter Sunday, and too many South Vietnamese units crumpled with alarming speed. His choices included the resumption of massive bombing of the North, including possible air strikes against Hanoi itself, and the destruction of flood-preventing dikes. He could even send U.S. Marines into a hit-and-run attack above the DMZ to divert Hanoi's troops. He considered urging the South Vietnamese to stage a similar raid or to counterattack across the zone.

Always, the mining or blockade of North Vietnamese ports remained a possibility. But most of his advisers considered it both too risky and too ineffectual to be given top priority. Past CIA studies had concluded that cargo could be diverted to rail lines, roads or an airlift, at a high cost in manpower, but still effectively enough to blunt a blockade. Moreover, all-out bombing in the past had failed to knock out all rail and road shipments. Even the sea routes might be kept open by enemy use of small vessels to unload freighters in unmined waters.

The most likely Nixon action seemed to be to employ massive airpower in the North. But even the extension of this option to include targets as far north as Hanoi and Haiphong was resisted by two key advisers: Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird and Secretary of State William Rogers. An inviting alternative to all such military measures seemed to be available when Henry Kissinger, the President's ubiquitous National Security Adviser, flew to Moscow in April for secret talks with Soviet Party Leader Leonid Brezhnev, ostensibly to discuss plans for the summit. Kissinger returned, convinced that Brezhnev had conveyed more than just a sign that Hanoi was finally ready for fruitful negotiations in Paris.

Nixon's mood changed to cold anger when Kissinger arrived home from further secret talks in Paris with Hanoi Negotiator Le Duc Tho and reported absolutely no progress. Both Kissinger and Nixon felt that they had been deceived by Brezhnev. An aide said that Nixon "had had it with the North Vietnamese." Nixon explained: "I am ready to settle with them; they should know that. But they're not going to push me into the sea."

Nixon also worried about his trip to Moscow. He feared that he could be caught trading toasts in the Kremlin as the Communists took Hue, an event that could demoralize the entire South Vietnamese military and civil structure. "How could he go to Moscow and sit there and die the death of a thousand cuts?" asked one of his aides. "What would be the situation with the battle reports coming in every day from Viet Nam and 60,000 Americans at the mercy of the enemy?"

Lively Discussion. Nixon began to consider more seriously the possibility of mining harbors. While he recognized the grave risk of conflict with Soviet vessels, he thought this course would not push the Russians into a corner. "Passive" minefields, after all, need not be entered unless Moscow deliberately chose to do so. More and more, Nixon withdrew to his Executive Office Building hideaway to ponder the problem.

Two aides became his chief counselors as he approached his decision: Kissinger and, more surprisingly, Treasury Secretary John Connally. Kissinger outlined the military and diplomatic risks involved in the mining. Connally was consulted on the probable impact on domestic politics. He had no doubts at all. "The American people will respond to strong and decisive leadership," the Texas Democrat advised. The continuing decline in the clout of Secretary of State Rogers became clear. He was off on a pre-summit tour of Western capitals while Nixon worked out his mining plans.

The President hardened his choice in a final weekend at Camp David. "If we turn tail now, America's commitments will be worthless," he told an aide. "The prestige of the presidency would hit rock bottom." On Saturday he ordered Laird to prepare for mining. He began working on a television speech that would explain the move. Writing it almost alone, he paused for telephone calls to his campaign manager, John Mitchell, and New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller.

The decision was all but final when Kissinger flew to Camp David Sunday morning, got the drift from Nixon, and returned to hold a meeting of his Washington Special Action Group to discuss contingency plans for the mining. The first public tip-off of an impending crisis came when Nixon summoned Rogers home to Washington.

The final chance to change the President's mind came in a meeting Monday morning of the National Security Council. Among those present were Kissinger, Rogers, Laird, Connally, CIA Director Richard Helms and Admiral Thomas H. Moorer, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The discussion was lively. "Some played the devil's advocate," conceded one participant. Nixon said he still intended to mine. "Nobody could dissuade him from it or offer a better alternative," said one observer.

While no one would reveal how the NSC lined up on the issue, reservations apparently were raised by Rogers and Helms. There was no doubt at all that Laird had fought hard against the proposal. He contended that the course would be particularly risky given the political atmosphere at home. Although Laird later came manfully, even belligerently, to the defense of the President's decision in public, he is frustrated and restive in his job. He wants out, though no one expects him to resign until after the end of Nixon's current term.

When he briefed 18 congressional leaders at 8 p.m. Monday, Nixon made no pretense of asking for advice. "Let me come directly to the point and tell you of a decision I have had to make," he said. He talked for just 15 minutes, took no questions and concluded: "If you can give me your support, I would appreciate it. If you cannot, I will understand." Admiral Moorer continued the briefing, and was told by both Senator J. William Fulbright and Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield that they thought the decision was "provocative." Asked Fulbright: "Isn't this a dangerous escalation of the war?" Replied Laird: "You forget that the North Vietnamese invaded last month." As tempers warmed, Rogers interceded. "Let's not go into old arguments," he said. "We understand each other's positions." Given no chance to oppose the decision in advance, the congressional leaders dourly watched the President's speech on White House TV sets.

Grave Threat. Speaking somberly and forcefully, Nixon repeatedly raised the specter of endangered American troops in Viet Nam to justify his decision to mine the ports and bomb the North. The "massive invasion" of South Viet Nam by North Vietnamese troops, he contended, "gravely threatens the lives of 60,000 American troops." Pledged Nixon: "We shall do whatever is required to safeguard American lives and American honor." He claimed that politically it would be "a very easy choice" simply to withdraw all of those troops--"after all I did not send over one-half million Americans to Viet Nam. I have brought 500,000 men home." Precipitate withdrawal, though, would amount to "an American defeat," and such a defeat, he said once more, would "encourage aggression all over the world--aggression in which smaller nations, armed by their major allies, could be tempted to attack neighboring nations at will, in the Mideast, in Europe and other areas." Also, it would mean "turning 17 million South Vietnamese over to Communist tyranny and terror." Since the North Vietnamese have met every U.S. peace offer "with insolence and insult," the only U.S. recourse, he said, was to employ "decisive military action to end the war."

That action, Nixon insisted, was not directed against the Soviet Union. Addressing Moscow, he explained: "We expect you to help your allies, and you cannot expect us to do other than to continue to help our allies. But let us help our allies only for the purpose of their defense--not for the purpose of launching invasions against their neighbors."

Along with his martial talk and his new war measures, Nixon offered a peace package that included several important new concessions. If the Communists will return all Americans now held prisoner and agree to "an internationally supervised cease-fire throughout Indochina," he said, the U.S. would agree to stop "all acts of force throughout Indochina." Aides later explained that this meant that the U.S., for the first time, was offering to withdraw all its sea and air forces from the area. Moreover, there was no insistence that the Communists give up any territory they have seized in South Viet Nam. Nixon also said the U.S. would complete its withdrawal within four months of a cease-fire rather than the previously offered six months. This military-only offer would leave the political future of South Viet Nam to be negotiated by the Vietnamese alone if they want it that way. Although he promised continued support to South Viet Nam, he did not mention the name of President Thieu.

Intense Drive. The mining of North Vietnamese ports, he said, was already "being implemented," and the mines would be activated after "three daylight periods." Ignoring the invitation to leave, fewer than a dozen Soviet vessels remained locked inside the minefield at Haiphong. By week's end, no Soviet vessel had tried to maneuver its way through the dangerous waters. Yet about 20 freighters, some of them Russian, were still on course toward Haiphong, as were two Soviet minesweepers. A symbolic "I dare you" challenge of the huge U.S. air and sea armada seemed unlikely, but it was still possible.

Defense Secretary Laird warned that any Russian attempts to deliver cargo by air rather than by sea also would be stopped "by all necessary means." The U.S. promptly unleashed the most intense air interdiction drive of the war. Bombers struck targets within Haiphong and Hanoi and ranged northward to hit rail lines leading to China.

The peace overtures in Nixon's bomb-but-withdraw policy drew no immediate hopeful response. They could well be, as Nixon claimed, "the maximum of what any President of the U.S. could offer." And they might prove tempting to Hanoi--after the fate of Hue, and possibly of the entire Vietnamization program, is settled on the battlefield. At first, the Communists remained as "insolent" as Nixon had charged. The National Liberation Front's Paris negotiator, Madame Nguyen Thi Binh, scoffed: "While we are in a military situation which is favorable to our struggle, he calls for an immediate cease-fire." Celebrating the 18th anniversary of his victory over the French at Dien Bien Phu, North Viet Nam Defense Minister Vo Nguyen Giap defiantly declared over Hanoi radio: "We are now defeating and definitely will defeat the Nixon war--defeat completely all the adventurous and cruel escalations of the United States imperialists." But after the initial bluster, Hanoi's Le Due Tho called again for more talks in Paris.

Moscow's only formal response to the mining of the ports was an official statement charging that the U.S. was pursuing "a dangerous and slippery road" that was "fraught with serious consequences for international peace and security." The U.S.S.R. denounced the American actions as "illegal," "inadmissible" and "piratical," and demanded that U.S. disruption of air and land shipping in North Viet Nam "be canceled without delay." Peking charged that the U.S. had taken "a new grave step in escalating its war of aggression against Viet Nam." Its statement scoffed at the idea that the mining was undertaken to safeguard American soldiers. "By continuing to escalate the war in a big way," contended Peking, "the U.S. Government will only cause more American youths to lose their lives."

U.S. allies were notably cool to Nixon's action. Britain's Foreign Office called U.S. countermeasures "inevitable," but Foreign Secretary Sir Alec Douglas-Home noted that "we were not consulted" and said that "this is a situation of danger." In France, where some 20,000 Parisians marched to protest Nixon's action, Foreign Minister Maurice Schumann called it "a brutal worsening of the situation." The French newspaper Le Monde said that the Nixon speech, like others made by the President on the war, was "unreal--it is not an ocean which separates the California coast from Indochina but a bottomless political and cultural trench." Japan's Prime Minister Eisaku Sato, offering a rare criticism of the U.S., called the blockade "not a wise move," although he sympathized with Nixon's aims.

The reaction in the U.S. was still too mixed to gauge accurately. The Cabinet closed ranks firmly behind Nixon; as he stopped in the Cabinet Room after his telecast, he was greeted by a standing ovation. "Mr. President, you were determined and resolute, and you made your point well," said HEW Secretary Elliot Richardson. Interior Secretary Rogers Morton assured Nixon that he could expect the support of most of the American public.

White House aides reported a heavy mail and telegram response running 5 to 1 in the President's favor. A Louis Harris survey showed that 59% of Americans backed Nixon's mining decision, although Harris saw this as more of a rallying reaction in a crisis than a necessarily lasting view. The California Poll reported a sharp rise in popular support after the speech; the previous week only 41% had approved of the way Nixon was handling the war, but after his pronouncement the figure rose to 53%. Yet New York's Republican Senator Jacob Javits said his mail showed an overwhelming protest--by 35 to 1--and even his conservative colleague, James Buckley, counted a 2-to-1 margin against the President.

Protesters returned to the streets in the largest numbers since the Cambodian incursion and the Kent State killings two years ago. There was an air of "Here we go again" futility about the demonstrations that made them seem less intense than before. Or perhaps newsmen, too, had become bored by the tactic. Yet across the nation more than 2,000 protesters were arrested and many beaten in clashes with police. Four University of New Mexico students were wounded by police gunfire. National Guardsmen restored order at the University of Minnesota after two days of traffic stopping and window smashing by some 2,000 students, many of whom had been clubbed by cops.

Yet the campus mood was best expressed by Stanford University President Richard W. Lyman, known as a home-front disciplinarian. He warned that the lack of large-scale riots did not mean students and academicians had grown indifferent to the war; rather there had developed "a dangerous and ever-growing disenchantment with a political system" that cannot end a war that is "immoral at worst, and a failure at best." At Amherst, President John William Ward told some 700 students: "I speak out of frustration and deep despair. I do not think that words will change the minds of the men in power, and I do not care to write letters to the world. What I protest is that there is no way to protest." Ward then joined a sit-down demonstration at Westover Air Force Base and was arrested.

Off campus, some unexpected opposition to presidential policy developed. Chicago's Democratic Mayor Richard Daley, saying he had supported Nixon and past Presidents on the war, and that "I think we should stand by our President," nevertheless said he had changed his mind. "I don't think any President has the right, without approval of Congress, to carry on a war--and we've been in a war for ten years." Nine of Henry Kissinger's former staff members wrote to him declaring their admiration for much of what he has done in the past but deploring the mining and the bombing escalation. For this weekend, the National Peace Action Coalition and other antiwar groups have called a mass demonstration in Washington; the turnout may give an indication of how wide and enduring the opposition is.

Reckless. If domestic reaction remained ambiguous, congressional attitudes seemed to turn sharply more partisan. Republicans were under heavy White House pressure to support the President, and the appeal to stand behind him at a moment of crisis--even if it was self-inflicted--was effective. Yet some moderate Republicans seemed to be wavering. Illinois Republican Congressman John Anderson flatly protested: "I am unwilling to take the risk of war with the Soviet Union by engaging in attacks on their ships and planes. I don't think Viet Nam is that important." Vermont Senator George Aiken, a senior Republican who had deplored the North Vietnamese invasion, criticized the mining as ineffective and called it "brinkmanship."

Nixon's Democratic critics felt no need to hold back. As some 1,000 protesters held a dawn prayer vigil on the Capitol steps, timed to coincide with the activation of the mines, Democratic Senator Edward Kennedy declared: "We have a President who says he's interested in the honor of the United States, but he has despoiled that honor." New York Democratic Congressman Jonathan Bingham told the rally that the mining was "the act of an emperor, a dictator." More than 20 Democratic Congressmen filed suit in federal court to enjoin the President from continuing the war, claiming that he is "in violation of the separation of powers doctrine as set forth in the Constitution." Democratic Presidential Hopeful George McGovern said Nixon's decision was "reckless, unnecessary and unworkable, and is a flirtation with World War III." Hubert Humphrey protested that the President's action was "filled with unpredictable danger."

More substantively, the Senate Democratic caucus voted 29 to 14 to condemn the President's escalation of the war, and by a margin of 35 to 8 to demand a cutoff of funds for the war within four months after the Communists return P.O.W.s. This was meant to coincide with Nixon's latest offer, but it does not require a ceasefire. In the House, the Foreign Affairs Committee Democrats demanded a total U.S. withdrawal from Viet Nam by Oct. 1. Again, the only precondition would be release of the prisoners and safe withdrawal of U.S. troops.

Choking Off. The impact of the President's drastic decision on his own re-election prospects will depend, of course, on how it works out. All that was certain is that the war is once again a paramount political issue--and is again dividing the American people. But more important than Richard Nixon's personal fate was the jolting fact that such a potentially fateful and controversial step could be taken by one man in a country that jealously protects itself against arbitrary action across the whole range of Government.

Whether or not Nixon "lucks out," the risks far exceeded the probable results. It is one thing to come vigorously to the support of the South Vietnamese on the battlefield, but quite another to escalate that support into great-power confrontation. In fact, Nixon had really failed to prove the logic of such a drastic step as interdiction and semi-blockade. The great bulk of the American troops in Viet Nam are not in imminent danger. Most are in well-fortified defensive positions near Danang and Saigon --with well-laid plans to group for collective defense and to be airlifted out if the need arises. Only a total and swift ARVN collapse could threaten those troops--and if such a rout were about to occur, the slow choking off of war materiel by mining could hardly have any saving effect.

Speculating on what might happen if the Soviets chose to challenge the interdiction of North Viet Nam, one high U.S. official said at week's end: "We don't want an armed confrontation. But I don't know what we would do." Added another, in typical Administration athletic metaphor:* "There ain't no game plan. We are winging this one."

It was to be hoped that the Administration knew its mind better than that.

* Secretary Laird last week described the South Vietnamese army as "an expansionist ball club." The U.S. mining operation carries the code name

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