The End of a Thirty Years' War

The tricolored flag of the Communist Provisional Revolutionary Government fluttered over the presidential palace in Saigon. On the open-air terrace of the Continental Hotel, where Americans drank Saigon's infamous "33" beer and vodka tonics and ogled slender Vietnamese girls for more than a decade, Viet Cong troops lounged self-consciously and sipped orange juice. Soviet-built tanks and Chinese-made trucks rumbled through the streets of Saigon to cheers from the populace.

With incredible suddenness it was over, not only Viet Nam's agonizing Thirty Years' War but also a century of Western domination. The massive, 20-year American struggle to build a stable non-Communist government in South Viet Nam was finally and definitively ended, an all but total failure. When Communist soldiers in Saigon fired salvos into the air and shouted, "Victory! Victory!" the stubborn, inextinguishable dreams of Ho Chi Minh and his heirs in Hanoi were fully realized.

It would take some time for almost everybody, even the victors, to get used to the unexpected new reality. It had taken a bare seven weeks for the Saigon government to slide precipitately to abject defeat. The collapse had begun with a Communist attack on the provincial capital of Ban Me Thuot in the Central Highlands, 160 miles north of Saigon. Then followed President Nguyen Van Thieu's disastrous strategic withdrawal, which turned into a rout. Within weeks, Communist forces had advanced virtually unopposed to the very outskirts of Saigon. Forced to resign and flee the country, Thieu was replaced by his aging, ineffectual Vice President, Tran Van Huong, who in turn gave way after just six days to the only man thought to have a chance of negotiating a ceasefire: Buddhist opposition leader Duong Van ("Big") Minh. His presidential tenure proved the briefest of all and set the stage for the final Communist triumph.

THE RESIGNATION. Huong, under pressure from U.S. Ambassador Graham Martin and Saigon leaders to resign, capitulated at about 4:30 Sunday afternoon, saying that he would transfer the presidency to the "personality" chosen by South Viet Nam's legislature--and "the sooner the better." Hours later, the National Assembly voted 134 to 2 to give the job to Big Minh.

The night before, an overwhelming force of 16 Communist divisions had tightened its vise around Saigon, moving to cut Route 15, the city's only escape to the sea. Sunday night there was heavy fighting at several points around the capital, including a murderous artillery assault against the airbase at Bien Hoa. Poised on the outskirts of the city, the Communist troops faced virtually no resistance. Most of the top ARVN military leaders had already fled or were making plans to do so; the regular troops were leaderless, demoralized and overpowered.

THE INAUGURATION. By dawn Monday, Saigon, for the first time, was totally cut off from the rest of South Viet Nam. Communist forces had brought enough artillery to the edge of the city to level it utterly if they chose to do so. On the northern edge of Saigon, flatbed trucks piled high with crated ammunition roared away from the supply depot at Newport, their air horns shrieking. The Newport tank farm burst into flame with a series of explosions that shook the ground and sent clouds of black smoke, easily visible from the center of Saigon, billowing into the air.

Later that day, Big Minh formally took power from the feeble Huong in a ceremony at the presidential palace. "We sincerely want reconciliation," he told the unseen Provisional Revolutionary Government. "You clearly know that. Reconciliation demands that each element of the nation respect the other's right to live." Minh proposed an immediate cease-fire "as a manifestation of our good will, and to quickly end the soldiers' and people's sufferings."

As Minh spoke in the chandeliered reception hall, deeply carpeted and hung with gold brocade, great rolls of thunder and flashes of lightning accompanied him. The Communists were not impressed. P.R.G. representatives promptly rejected Minn's proposal, charging that he had not met their conditions: 1) all U.S. military personnel must leave Viet Nam, and 2) the new Saigon government must have no holdovers from the old U.S.-supported regime. As Minh worked frantically to arrange a settlement, Saigon was gripped by the fear that the Communists would launch an all-out attack. "There is just one way out for us now," said an official, "by American choppers."

The fear soon turned into panic.

Word spread that the U.S. had abandoned the giant commissary at Newport, setting off a frenzy of looting by some 3,000 Vietnamese. As burglar alarms brayed, looters wheeled off shopping carts filled with sugar, medicines and frozen pork chops that began immediately to thaw and drip hi the blazing sun. Cops in the nearby parking lot watched with amusement, occasionally plucking a few items for themselves from passing shopping carts as a kind of exit toll. Finally a truckload of military police arrived, firing M-16 bursts into the air, and the looting stopped.

Just after 6 p.m., three A-37 jet fighter-bombers struck Tan Son Nhut airbase, destroying several planes on the ground and causing explosions that rocked Saigon. It seemed most likely that the attackers were South Vietnamese pilots venting their frustration over the endless agony of their country. That, too, seemed to be the reason for an outbreak of small-arms fire in Saigon that soon followed. Every ARVN soldier and policeman in the city seemed senselessly to empty his gun. After 15 minutes the firing sputtered and died. But there was still the concussion of distant bombs from Bien Hoa and other bumps in the night: mortars, rockets, artillery.

THE ATTACK. At about 4 a.m. Tuesday, the Communists launched a massive rocket and artillery assault on already beleaguered Tan Son Nhut air base. Some 150 rockets and 130-mm. shells whined in, forcing an immediate halt in the ongoing evacuation of Americans and Vietnamese. From the sanctuary of the Continental Palace Hotel, Western correspondents and cameramen listened to an account of the attack on the UHF frequency used by the U.S. mission: "The ices [International Commission for Control and Supervision] compound is burning . . . The back end of the gymnasium's been hit . . . My God, control, we've got two Marine K.I.A.s [killed in action]." The response was terse: "Do you know where the bodies are?" Doctors were called for; firefighting equipment was requested and then told to stay away because of the shelling. A large secondary explosion was reported across the runway. "The ammo storage area's been hit," said a voice shaking with emotion. Worse yet, Communist troops were pushing into some of the city's suburbs.

The coordinated attacks turned out to be the last of the war. It was 4 p.m. Monday in Washington when the shelling of Ton Son Nhut began, twelve hours behind Saigon time. Within hours, a series of meetings between President Ford and his top advisers led td the decision to evacuate all remaining Americans. By midafternoon in Saigon, dozens of American helicopters had begun arriving. By 7:52 the following morning, the last chopper had lifted off the roof of the American embassy (see following story). Except for a handful of newsmen and missionaries, the American presence in Viet Nam had come to an end.

THE SURRENDER. At 10:24 a.m. Wednesday, President Minh announced in a brief radio address that he was offering an unconditional surrender to the P.R.G. "I believe in reconciliation among Vietnamese to avoid unnecessary shedding of blood," he said. "For this reason I ask the soldiers of the Republic of Viet Nam to cease hostilities in calm and to stay where they are." Afterward Minh told a French journalist, "Yes, it [the surrender] had to be done. Human lives had to be saved."

Before noon five Communist tanks, a dozen armored personnel carriers and truckloads of green-uniformed troops who wore helmets inscribed TIEN VI SAIGON--Onward to Saigon--swept down Unity Boulevard to the presidential palace. The gates had been left ajar, but one tank, followed by several others, smashed through the fence nonetheless, then fired triumphal salvos. One detachment of troops drove off in a Jeep with Minh to an undisclosed location; later he was brought back to repeat his surrender announcement before being whisked away again.

At 12:15 p.m., the P.R.G. flag was raised over the presidential palace. Viet Cong forces took over the Saigon radio station and announced: "Saigon has been totally liberated. We accept the unconditional surrender of General Duong Van Minh, President of the former government." In Paris, Communist representatives announced that Saigon would be popularly known as Ho Chi Minh city, though the city's official name would stay the same.

Within an hour sentries were placed at every intersection. Other soldiers equipped with megaphones cruised the streets shouting, "The forces of the National Liberation Front have taken control of Saigon! Have no fears. You will be well treated." On the quays of the Saigon River, people were trying frantically to get onto small boats, but there was no place to go. A South Vietnamese police colonel walked up to a military statue in front of the National Assembly building, saluted and shot himself in the head; he died later in a hospital.

According to a French diplomat, roughly one-third of the people of Saigon greeted the Communist forces with genuine enthusiasm, one-third with indifference and one-third with deep apprehension. Many Saigonese went into the streets to welcome the Communist forces with smiles and handshakes. Some South Vietnamese soldiers, seemingly unworried, rode their motorcycles alongside trucks loaded with armed Communist soldiers; others attempted to trade their uniforms for civilian clothes; some simply shed their uniforms in the street and continued on their way wearing only undershorts.

Some Communist troops meanwhile garlanded their rifles with flowers; others offered children rides on their tanks. Radio Hanoi said that Viet Cong troops had been ordered "not to lay hands even on a needle or thread of the people." Although all press contact with the outside world was cut off early in the evening, reports from the Japanese and French embassies, which had not evacuated the country, indicated that foreigners were being treated well.

THE CELEBRATION. Thursday, the first morning of "liberation," was also May Day, and huge parades involving thousands of Communist soldiers and Saigonese citizens were held on flag-festooned streets. In the park in front of the presidential palace, huge numbers of Soviet PT-76 and T-54 tanks, armored cars, artillery pieces and rocket launchers were arrayed. Bus service and garbage collection were quickly restored, and civil servants were reporting for work at government ministries. Political cadres in mufti, wearing red armbands and pistols and often sporting long hair, were taking the lead in administering the city. They seemed to be people who had been living in Saigon for some time, probably acting as secret agents for the Communist side.

The P.R.G. wasted no time in issuing decrees that promised some basic changes in Saigon's way of life--especially the stamping out of 15 years of American influence. "Anyone acting like Americans or participating in such American-style activities as opening nightclubs, brothels and other places of entertainment will be punished." Other decrees, broadcast by the government radio station, promised harsh penalties for spying, carrying arms for the purpose of rioting, creating disunity or disobeying orders. "From now on," said the decree, in an abrupt but obvious departure from the days of approved guerrilla sabotage, "everybody is forbidden to burn down public buildings, kill, rob, rape, loot or create any incident that endangers the life and property of the public and of the revolutionary government." All private newspapers and magazines were "temporarily" suspended for the sake of protecting "public peace." On the streets there was already one conspicuous change. Most women, mindful of the Communists' reputed distaste for Western ways, were dressed in subdued, traditional ao-dais rather than the colorful miniskirts and heavy makeup of just a few days before.

Though as many as eight provinces in the Mekong Delta (of a total of 44 provinces in South Viet Nam) had still not surrendered and there was scattered resistance in Cholon, the predominantly Chinese quarter of Saigon, the P.R.G. announced that its conquest was now complete.

THE OUTLOOK. Clearly the new Communist rulers of South Viet Nam were making a bid for public support in the country and a good image abroad. Though still not allowed to cable their reports, Western correspondents in Saigon could move freely about the city. In Danang, one Associated Press reporter and a television camera team were allowed to visit a "reeducation camp" for some 900 captured ARVN officers. All told, some 6,000 officers were in Communist hands, but the P.R.G. announced that over 103,000 captured enlisted men and noncommissioned officers had been released and returned to their homes.

All week the stress in public pronouncements was on moderation. Interviewed in Danang, P.R.G. Foreign Minister Mme. Nguyen Thi Binh spoke of building a "peaceful, independent, neutral South Viet Nam"; she even spoke of the possibility that Big Minh "might still have some role to play in the future of Viet Nam."

The new government faced enormous, immediate, practical tasks: feeding the population, restoring basic government services, disarming and returning to their homes hundreds of thousands of soldiers and policemen who had served the now defunct old regime, finding jobs for thousands of people who have for years lived primarily on money coming in from the U.S. Moreover the Communists, like numerous Saigon governments before them, will face at least some antagonism from a welter of independent political and religious groupings: the Buddhists, the Catholics, the anti-Communist politicians. "The Cao Dai and Hoa Hao in particular are quite hostile to the Communists," observes Harvard Asian Scholar Alexander Woodside. "The Hoa Hao view Marxism as a Western creed, and they view themselves as standing for the residual culture of old Viet Nam. There has been a virtual blood feud between them and the Communists."

In the view of most experts, the Communists will move cautiously if unswervingly toward their principal goals in Viet Nam. Politically, they will probably try to incorporate as many of the neutralist and religious groups as possible into a new revolutionary government--but one that will, no doubt, be dominated by its Communist representatives.

Even the Communists' ultimate goal, reunification with the North, will probably await a fairly long transition period, about three to five years. Mme. Binh herself last week emphasized that North-South differences "in the economic and political field" will require "a certain period of time to realize reunification." Highly capitalistic and individualistic, the South will no doubt have to undergo some profound changes before it can be successfully assimilated into the socialist, collectivist society of the North. "The North fears the seductive life of the South, compared with the disciplined, austere, spartan life in the North," says one State Department Viet Nam specialist. "They do not want their people contaminated."

This was strikingly evident in Danang, held by the Communists for five weeks. French Reporter Roland-Pierre Paringaux cabled to TIME after visiting the city last week: "The foreign observer immediately notices the amazement of the young revolutionary soldiers who look like hillbillies in front of an Ali Baba cave that still spews diverse riches and gadgets from an essentially American and Japanese consumer society. Drab, in uniform without decorations or grade, shod in rubber-thonged sandals, they are visibly astonished by these elegant, made-up young women, by these people their age astride Hondas. Also incredulous are the people of Hanoi, who for 20 years have lived in austerity, when they see in their newspapers pictures of the store windows of Danang. The two parts of Viet Nam are like Sparta and Byzantium; they are like the two ingredients of a sweet and sour sauce, difficult to mix so that it will remain tasty for all."

Achieving the mix will require considerable sacrifice, pain and, very likely, a strong dose of coercion. Still, along with the fear that drove thousands into flight or attempted flight, much of South Viet Nam could only feel relief that the war was over. For the first time since French boats steamed into Danang in 1858, the nationalistic and proud Vietnamese, North and South, creators of splendid past civilizations, were rid of any foreign presence. For the first time since the Japanese conquest of 34 years ago, there was peace.

To some South Vietnamese, of course, the Northerners would remain foreigners for a long time; and to some. Communist rule in their land would bring only an uneasy peace.

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