Into The Quagmire
Into The Quagmire
QUAGMIRE
INTO THE
QUAGMIRE
Lyndon Johnson and the
Escalation of the Vietnam War
Brian VanDeMark
New York
Oxford
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
1995
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3
Preface
viii
Preface
Preface
ix
both the complexities and the burdens of governance. Mr. Clifford, moreover, graciously allowed me to quote from his forthcoming autobiography.
I have, however, neither sought nor received Mr. Clifford's endorsement of
the views expressed in this book.
A word of thanks must also go to my publisher, Sheldon Meyer, editors
David Bain and Stephanie Sakson-Ford, and all the other talented and
friendly people at Oxford University Press, who helped make the manuscript a book.
Finally, I wish to acknowledge a very special and heavy debt to my wife,
Dian Owen VanDeMark. Her encouragement, understanding, and, above
all, her extraordinary forbearance sustained me from beginning to end.
Washington, D.C.
January 1990
B. V.
Contents
INTRODUCTION, xiii
1. To the Crossroads in Vietnam, 3
2. "The Day of Reckoning Is Coming," 23
3. "Stable Government or No Stable Government," 39
4. "A Bear by the Tail," 61
5. "Where Are We Going?," 92
6. "If I Were Ho Chi Minh, I Would Never Negotiate," 114
7. "What in the World Is Happening?," 132
8. "Can You Stop It?," 153
9. "Better'n Owl," 184
CONCLUSION,
215
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE,
NOTES, 239
INDEX, 263
223
Introduction
xiv
Introduction
its creation had changed dramatically amid diffused authority and power
among communist states and nationalist upheaval in the colonial world.
Policymakers' blind devotion to this static Cold War vision led America
into misfortune in Vietnam. Lacking the critical perspective and sensibility
to reappraise basic tenets of U.S. foreign policy in the light of changed
events and local circumstances, policymakers failed to perceive Vietnamese
realities accurately and thus to gauge American interests in the area prudently. Policymakers, as a consequence, misread an indigenous, communistled nationalist movement as part of a larger, centrally directed challenge to
world order and stability; tied American fortunes to a non-communist regime of slim popular legitimacy and effectiveness; and intervened militarily
in the region far out of proportion to U.S. security requirements.
An arrogant and stubborn faith in America's power to shape the course of
foreign events compounded the dangers sown by ideological rigidity. Policymakers in 1964-1965 shared a common postwar conviction that the United
States not only should, but could, control political conditions in South Vietnam, as elsewhere throughout much of the world. This conviction had led
Washington to intervene progressively deeper in South Vietnamese affairs
over the years. And whendespite Washington's increasing exertionsSaigon's political situation declined precipitously during 1964-1965, this conviction prompted policymakers to escalate the war against Hanoi, in the
belief that America could stimulate political order in South Vietnam through
the application of military force against North Vietnam.
Domestic political pressures exerted an equally powerful, if less obvious,
influence over the course of U.S. involvement in Vietnam. The fall of China
in 1949 and the ugly McCarthyism it aroused embittered American foreign
policy for a generation. By crippling President Truman's political fortunes,
it taught his Democratic successors, John Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson, a
strong and sobering lesson: that another "loss" to communism in East Asia
risked renewed and devastating attacks from the right. This fear of reawakened McCarthyism remained a paramount concern as policymakers
pondered what course to follow as conditions in South Vietnam deteriorated
rapidly in 1964-1965.
Enduring traditions of ideological rigidity, diplomatic arrogance, and political vulnerability heavily influenced the way policymakers approached
decisions on Vietnam in 1964-1965. Understanding the decisions of this
period fully, however, also requires close attention to contemporary developments in America and South Vietnam. These years marked a tumultuous
time in both countries, which affected the course of events in subtle but
significant ways.
Policymakers of 1964-1965 lived in a period of extraordinary domestic
Introduction
xv
xvi
Introduction
INTO THE
QUAGMIRE
1
To the Crossroads in Vietnam
American military advisers in South Vietnam multiplied dramatically, reaching over 16,000 by the end of 1963. This action marked a crucial escalation
in U.S. involvement, clearly perceived by contemporary policymakers. As
Secretary of State Dean Rusk later observed, Kennedy's decision carried
America "beyond the levels of troops that were in effect permitted by the
1954 agreements. . . ."u
As the United States assumed a much deeper role in the war, Diem's hold
over the South continued to weaken. Despite America's growing military
presence, the Vietcong expanded its control throughout many parts of the
country. Feeling increasingly besieged, Diem intensified his repression.
As a Catholic mandarin, Diem had always suspected the motives and
power of South Vietnam's Buddhist bonzes, who had never acquiesced to his
rule. When political unrest encouraged by the bonzes erupted in the summer
of 1963, Diem and his brother, Ngo Dinh Nhu, raided the pagodas, arresting
and detaining thousands of Buddhists. Angered by Saigon's harsh response,
Washington began distancing itself from Diem and preparing for a coup.
After several false starts, that coup occurred on November 1, 1963. With the
Kennedy administration's tacit consent, a military cabal deposed the regime,
abruptly killing both Diem and Nhu.
JFK's own assassination followed three weeks later. But before his death,
America's commitment to South Vietnam had entered a new and troublesome period. For Diem's overthrowhowever predictable given his peremptory ruleunleashed powerful and unpredictable forces of fateful significance to U.S.-Vietnamese relations. The responsibility for this development
rested with John Kennedy; its consequences confronted his successor, Lyndon Johnson.
LBJ assumed office at this critical moment as a seasoned politician but inexperienced diplomat. During his formative years, Johnson received little
exposure to foreign affairs. "When I was a boy," he later recalled, "we never
had these issues of our relations with other nations so much. We didn't wake
up with Vietnam and have Santo Domingo for lunch and the Congo for
dinner."12
LBJ focused his attention, quite naturally, on Texas politics, which
seemed far removed from international concerns. Johnson utilized his mastery of state affairs to launch a political career, first as assistant to south
Texas Congressman Richard Kleberg, then as state National Youth Administration director, and finally as U.S. representative from central Texas.
LBJ arrived in Washington as a new congressman just as Hitler's armies
prepared their march across Europe. The western democracies' belated response to fascist aggression created a lasting impression on the young Johnson.
Like many of his generation, LBJ interpreted appeasement as a dangerous
seed yielding bitter fruita lesson Johnson carried throughout his legislative
career and into the White House. "[EJverything I knew about history," LBJ
subsequently remarked, "told me that if I got out of Vietnam . . . then
I'd be doing exactly what Chamberlain did [before] World War II. I'd be
giving a big fat reward to aggression."13
Johnson's experiences before the Second World War influenced his perception of the Cold War that followed. The West had failed to check fascist
aggression in the late 1930s; it must not compound this error by failing to
halt communist expansion in the late 1940s.
LBJ stressed this view during House debate over Truman's request for aid
to Greece and Turkey in the spring of 1947. "[WJhether Communist or
Fascist," Johnson told his colleagues, "the one thing a bully understands is
force, and the one thing he fears is courage." "[HJuman experience," he
added, "teaches me that if I let a bully of my community make me travel
back streets to avoid a fight, I merely postpone the evil day. Soon he will try
to chase me out of my house." LBJ felt America had hesitated to confront
its bullies in the past: "We have fought twd world wars because of our
failure to take a position in time. When the first war began Germany did not
believe we would fight. . . . Thus the Kaiser was led to believe that we were
complacent and lacked courage. Unrestricted submarine warfare began, and
so we went to war." The same, Johnson argued, applied to those days before World War II, when "the siren songs of appeasers convinced us it was
none of our business what happened in Europe or the world, and thus
France was sacrificed to Fascist ambitions, and England's destiny was fought
out in the skies over London." But America had learned its lesson; today,
"[wjhenever security of this country is involved, we are willing to draw the
quarantine lineand we would rather have it on the shores of the Mediterranean than on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay or the Gulf of Mexico,"
LBJ concluded.14
Johnson's foreign policy record as senator and, later, majority leader in
the 1950s mirrored the bipartisan commitment to containment characteristic
of the decade. Although LBJ opposed American intervention at Dienbienphu in 1954, he generally supported Eisenhower's diplomatic initiatives,
guiding many of the President's foreign policy measures through the Senate.
This cooperation reflected Johnson's devotion to executive leadership on
international issues dating back to Franklin Roosevelt and his caution born
of a limited background in world affairs. "If you're in an airplane, and
you're flying somewhere," LBJ once observed to his fellow senators, "you
don't run up to the cockpit and attack the pilot. Mr. Eisenhower is the
only President we've got." Johnson deferred to the pilot's position and his
experience.15
As Vice President under Kennedy, Johnson broadened his exposure to
10
11
had respected Rusk and trusted his counsel, JFK had often acted as his own
Secretary of State. Johnson, by contrast, delegated significant authority to
Rusk over foreign policy and relied more heavily on his personal judgment.
LBJ liked and trusted his Secretary of State; "Rusk," he proudly boasted on
one occasion, "has the compassion of a preacher and -the courage of a
Georgia cracker. When you're going in with the Marines, he's the kind you
want on your side."18
Johnson and Rusk, as this comment suggested, shared a natural rapport
reflecting their similar backgrounds and world views. Rusk, also a native
rural Southerner, had traveled a long road to national prominence. Born in
Cherokee County, Georgia, he had been encouraged by his motherlike
LBJ's mother, a former schoolteacherto pursue lofty ambitions. But where
Johnson followed a political path to power, Rusk pursued education as his
route to success. After graduating from college in 1931, he attended Oxford
University as a Rhodes scholar, studying international relations. Rusk pursued this interest during a semester at the University of Berlin in 1933,
where he witnessed Hitler's ascent to power.
The rise of Nazi Germany created a profound impression on Rusk, as it
did on the young Texas congressman. Appalled by the West's timidity toward Hitler, Rusk developed a staunch devotion to collective security
against fascist aggression which he subsequently applied, with equal force,
against the specter of monolithic communist aggression. The underlying
conflict in world affairs, Rusk later observed, "is between a U.N. kind of
world and those trying to build a world revolution." The communists'
"declared doctrine of world revolution," he quickly added, "ought to be as
credible as Mein Kampf."1*
A strong military heritage reinforced Rusk's firm demeanor. Both of his
grandfathers had served in the Confederate Army. Rusk followed this tradition as an ROTC member throughout high school and college, serving as
cadet commander and, later during World War II, as military adjutant to
General Joseph Stillwell in the China-Burma-India theater.
After the war, Rusk left the Army for the State Department, working
under the soldier-statesman George Marshall, whose dual qualities he so
admired. The Korean War gave Rusk the opportunity to apply those
qualities in his position as Assistant Secretary of State for Far Eastern
Affairs. Rusk entered his new post at a turbulent moment for the State Department, as conservatives pilloried its role in the recent "loss" of China.
Although Rusk did not participate directly in China policybeing preoccupied with U.N. affairsthe virulent domestic reaction it provoked reinforced his inclination toward a tough response when communist forces
invaded South Korea that June. Rusk carried the lessons of China and
Korea into his years as Secretary of State and applied them to Vietnam.
12
13
14
Diem had preserved this legacy of the French and, with it, Vietnam's
peculiar political tradition, which flowered in the months after his death.
Freed from its restraints, South Vietnam's deep-rooted volatility exploded in
a confusing array of suspicious and antagonistic political forces. Buddhists,
religious sects such as the Cao Dai and Hoa Hao, students, and ambitious
young generals of the armed forces all began struggling to control South
Vietnam's political direction independently of their rivals.
15
16
South Vietnamese acquaintance later remarked, "Khanh was little more than
a clown whose only claim to rule lay in his capacity for scheming."28
As Khanh settled into power, the United States moved toward deeper
involvement in Vietnam. Diem's ouster had not dampened the insurgency
as Washington had hoped, and Johnson's administration reacted by increasing military pressure against Hanoi, which continued to support the insurgency. On February 1, 1964, LBJ authorized an intensification of covert
operations against North Vietnam, code-named PLAN 34A, first begun by
Kennedy in 1961. Supplementing guerrilla raids against the communist
"Ho Chi Minh" infiltration trail into the South, Johnson approved reconnaissance flights over Laos, commando raids along the North Vietnamese
coast, and naval shelling of military installations in the Tonkin Gulf.
Saigon's political situation, meanwhile, remained in a state of precarious
equilibrium over the next six months, as Khanh battled rival factions for
control of the government, inaugurated a national mobilization campaign
to bolster the armed forces, and struggled to reinvigorate the languishing
rural pacification program.
Military conditions also remained shaky. The Vietcong readily perceived
the chaos swept in by Diem's assassination and moved to exploit it. Aiming
to topple Khanh's fragile regime, the VC renewed the offensive, gradually
expanding their control of the countryside.
Yet South Vietnam's fortunes failed to improve, despite LBJ's February
decisions. Washington responded by replacing General Paul Harkins as
Commander of the United States Military Assistance Command, Vietnam
(COMUSMACV), whose persistent optimism increasingly contradicted events.
President Johnson named General William Westmoreland as Harkins' successor in late June.
Westmoreland seemed, by tradition and training, a natural choice; he unmistakably possessed "the habit of command." Born in South Carolina,
where the Confederacy's martial ethic endured long after the Civil War,
Westmoreland early settled on a military career. After high school, he studied at the Citadel in Charleston, before securing appointment to West Point
through his former Sunday school teacher, Congressman James F. Byrnes. At
the Military Academy, Westmoreland displayed a remarkable instinct for
leadership, graduating as the class of 1936's first captain of cadets.
During World War II, Westmoreland commanded an infantry battalion
through the North Africa, Sicily, and Normandy campaigns. Following the
war, Westmoreland became a paratrooper, leading an airborne combat team
in Korea.
In addition to the time-honored virtue of battlefield courage, Westmoreland also demonstrated talent in the contemporary art of administration,
17
18
19
20
desire, as expressed to an aide during this period, to "keep the lid on." "I
don't want to have headlines about some accident in Vietnam," the President admonished him.35
But events did not accommodate Johnson. Developments in South Vietnam throughout the summer and fall of 1964 slowly undermined his repeated promises not to escalate the conflict. Saigon's increasing inability to
fight its own war weakened the President's assurance that U.S. forces would
not have to.
South Vietnam's mounting military paralysis during this period mirrored
the political turmoil continuing to plague the country. Less than two weeks
after the Tonkin Gulf reprisals, General Khanh, emboldened by America's
show of support, brazenly issued his "Vungtau Charter," a constitution
granting him sweeping presidential powers. Khanh's charter also conveniently abolished the position of Chief of State, thereby removing his strongest
rival, General Minh, from the government.
If this new arrangement pleased Nguyen Khanh, it did not please the
South Vietnamese people, who had emerged from another dictatorship only
nine months before. Students, political opponents, and Buddhist monks took
to the streets, protesting the general's new dispensation. The demonstrations
climaxed on August 25, when a crowd of youths forced Khanh from his
home, compelling him to self-denunciation. "Down with military power,"
the ambitious general cried to his angry audience, "down with dictatorships, down with the army!" Hours after this humiliating performance,
Khanh withdrew his fledgling constitution and resigned.36
Events over the next two days exposed the muddled state of South Vietnamese affairs. No sooner did Khanh quit his post than a group of ambitious
young officers within the MRCknown as the "Young Turks"voted to
reinstate him as part of a temporary ruling triumvirate. The troika's members included Khanh, whom the public had recently repudiated; Minh, who
distrusted Khanh as much as Khanh distrusted him; and General Tran
Thien Khiem, who had conspired with Khanh to overthrow Minh's junta
the previous January. The prospects for stability did not seem encouraging.
Not all ARVN officers welcomed this new arrangement, however. Many
Catholics within the army, who had supported Diem's rule, resented the
rising Buddhist influence in South Vietnam, which they associated with
Khanh. Two of themGeneral Lam Van Phat, former Interior Minister
under Khanh, and General Duong Van Due, commander of ARVN's IV
Corps in the Mekong delta south of Saigonvented their anger through a
maneuver familiar to Khanhthe military coup.
On September 13, Phat and Due marched troops into the capital, seizing
important government installations. The revolt, however, met resistance
from forces led by Air Vice-Marshal Nguyen Cao Ky and General Nguyen
21
Chanh Thi, both younger officers loyal to the government. Ky and Thi managed to suppress the attempted coup. Their action preserved Khanh's regime, while strengthening the Young Turks' voice within South Vietnam.
Khanh retained his power, but at further cost to his political independence.
Not surprisingly, as Khanh's authority diminished, his attention to the
issue of civilian governmentwhich he had long promised to establishsuddenly increased. Two weeks after the failed coup, Khanh made an apparent
move in this direction. On September 26, he inaugurated the High National
Council (HNC), a cabinet of elders charged with drafting a provisional constitution and convening a national convention to serve as an interim legislature.
Despite its imposing commission, most South Vietnamese dismissed the
HNC as a political tool contrived by Khanh to legitimate his continued
rule. The council, whose members were as old as they were ineffectual, soon
became known throughout Saigon as the "High National Museum."
At the end of October, the seventeen-member HNC submitted a draft
constitution to General Khanh. He approved the plan and, on November 1,
named a civilian government with former Saigon mayor Tran Van Huong as
premier and the HNC's chairman, Phan Khac Suu, as chief of state.
The new ministry posed little threat to Khanh's control. Huong was a
schoolteachernot a politicianwho accepted the premiership reluctantly.
"I'm not sure whether I should be congratulated or offered condolences,"
he remarked when informed of his appointment. Huong's colleague, Suu,
was an aging technocrat who, because of imprisonment and torture under
Diem, could barely focus his attention on matters of detail. To Ambassador
Taylor, the chief of state appeared "old beyond his years and clearly lacking
in physical stamina." Despite his frail constitution, Suu still harbored a
healthy personal ambition.37
Americans in Saigon reacted to South Vietnam's first civilian government
since the fall of Diem with hopes about its effectiveness tempered by doubts
about its ability. They looked to Huong's administration for democratic
reforms which would invigorate the flagging war effort, but questioned
whether it could achieve this objective. In a cable to the State Department
on November 3, Taylor offered a guarded view of the new cabinet which,
he noted, "will be composed largely of men without governmental experience who will have to learn their trade on the job." Even "under favorable
conditions," Taylor observed, it would take "three to four months" for
Huong and Suu to get it "functioning well." Khanh and his military
cohorts, meanwhile, would anxiously await the first sign of trouble. Once
Huong's government "appears to falter," the ambassador predicted, "the
generals may be expected to make a new grasp for political power."38
22
This, then, marked the state of South Vietnamese affairs as Johnson embarked on his own administration in November 1964. In the year since
Diem's death, Saigon had yet to establish a viable, responsive government
capable of ruling the country or forcefully confronting the insurgency. The
ceaseless intrigue among South Vietnam's politicians and generalsso inimical to political stability and military successpersisted.
The communists had skillfully exploited Saigon's divisions. The Vietcong
had strengthened their presence in rural areas, whose inhabitants remained
isolated from the central government, and in urban centers, where factional
disputes encouraged ready manipulation. North Vietnam had also turned
Saigon's tumult to good advantage, using ARVN's intrusive attention to
politics to boost its infiltration of men and supplies into the south.
As the South Vietnamese army continued to fight largely among itself
rather than against the rebels, the war effort deteriorated markedly. VC
military successes increasingly threatened the fragile regime. This development, in turn, put growing pressure on President Johnson and his advisers
to expand U.S. involvement in the conflict. South Vietnam's instability had
fostered conditions which would soon test the limitsand strengthof
America's containment strategy in Southeast Asia.
2
The Day of Reckoning
Is Coming"
24
ington as to the course of Soviet policy under the new regime. This apprehension stemmed in part from America's limited understanding of Soviet
leadership changes. Power had changed hands in Russia only twice before
since the Bolshevik Revolution, both times prompting chaotic disruption
in Soviet affairs. What, U.S. analysts wondered, would be the consequences
of this latest shift? Abandonment of Khrushchev's emerging "peaceful coexistence" with the United States? Narrowing of the Sino-Soviet split, as
Kremlin contenders vied for control by courting Peking? Lacking clear
answers to these questions, many experts believed America had to reaffirm
its international commitmentsincluding support of South Vietnamin
order to deter renewed Soviet adventurism.
The day after the Kremlin's purge, China had exploded its first atomic
device over Lop Nor, a salt-encrusted lake bed in the barren Taklamakan
Desert. Although U.S. intelligence had anticipated this event for some
weeks, it nevertheless intensified a principal fear of contemporary Washingtonthe image of an aggressive China threatening the security of Southeast
Asia.
This fear, however exaggerated, reflected deeply rooted perceptions. Johnson and his advisers viewed China in 1964 much like Truman and his advisers had viewed Russia after World War IIas a militantly expansive
force to be contained until mellowed by internal forces or external pressures.
LBJ had stressed this theme in a public address on Peking's atomic test on
October 18. "No American should treat this matter lightly," Johnson had
warned. "Until this week only four powers [America, Britain, Russia, and
France] had entered the dangerous world of nuclear explosions." "Whatever
their differences," the President had said, "all four are sober and serious
states, with long experience as major powers in the modern world." "Communist China," he had added after a long pause, "has no such experience."2
Washington's image of a belligerent China drew much of its color from
Peking's own rhetoric. For years, Mao and his followers had persistently
denounced U.S. "imperialism," while ridiculing America as a "paper tiger."
By pulling Uncle Sam's beard, China served its competition with Russia
for leadership of the communist bloc. But Americans interpreted these propaganda attacks far differently. Peking's bellicose rhetoric seemed to confirm
Washington's perception of a hostile power determined to impose its hegemony over Asia.
Many Americans shared their government's view of an aggressive China.
Time, one of the nation's most popular and influential magazines, depicted
Peking's leaders during this period as "Marxists with Manchu ambitions."
"In the vast sweep of country from Angkor Wat to the Great Wall, from
the Yellow Sea to the Pamirs," went a Time cover story, "Red China seeks
hegemony." Opinion surveys revealed equally pervasive fears among the
25
26
come under direct attack. This brazen assault on American forces seemed an
ominous challenge to the administration, one testing Washington's military
commitment in the region.
Into this atmosphere of increased pressures stepped the Working Group on
Vietnam. Its members, operating in a climate of heightened international
tensions, would shape the direction of Vietnam policy far into the future.
How that direction came to be defined reflected accommodation among
conflicting viewpoints within the administration.
The White House had selected William Bundy, older brother of Johnson's
national security adviser, McGeorge Bundy, to head the Working Group.
Bundy was already heavily involved in Vietnam planning. For nearly four
years, he had been at or near the center of Vietnam decision-makingfirst as
director of the Pentagon's military assistance program to Saigon from 1961
to 1964, then as Assistant Secretary of State for Far Eastern Affairs, his
current post.
From the beginning, Bundy had harbored a strong commitment to American policy in South Vietnam. In 1961, that policy had included support for
Ngo Dinh Diem. But as Diem's popularity and effectiveness had declined,
Bundy had lost faith in his ability to rally the South Vietnamese people
against the communist insurgency.
Like many in Washington, Bundy had welcomed the 1963 coup against
Diem, believing it offered new opportunities to create a stable and democratic government in Saigon. But those opportunities had never materialized. Instead of ushering in political stability, Diem's ouster had unleashed
furious social and political turmoil exacerbated by military interference in
government affairs. Bundy now confronted, in the fall of 1964, a weak South
Vietnamese government whose future he scarcely trusted, but whose complexion had been defined in the aftermath of a coup sanctioned by himself
and other American officials.
This tension between Bundy's sense of responsibility for Saigon's present
and his skepticism about Saigon's future manifested itself in his first report
to the Working Group. Although Bundy feared the loss of South Vietnam,
suggesting that it "would be a major blow to our basic policies," he questioned whether South Vietnam could, in fact, be saved, given its endemic
political problems. "The basic point," Bundy observed, "is that we have
never thought we could defend a government or a people that had ceased to
care strongly about defending themselves, or that were unable to maintain
the fundamentals of government."
Bundy blamed this inability on South Vietnam's troubled history. Political burdens from Saigon's past pressed heavily against its future. South Vietnam had much to overcome, he said, including:
27
"[T]hese are the facts that dog us to this day," Bundy confessed. He could
not escape them, whatever his fears about the loss of South Vietnam. Caught
between these conflicting realities, Bundy seemed hesitantunsure what
course to follow.6
The Joint Chiefs' representative on the Working Group, Vice Admiral
Lloyd Mustin, was more certain. He expressed the military's belief that
action against North Vietnam was the answer to problems within South
Vietnam.
Mustin's and the Joint Chiefs' recommendation stemmed from their radically different perception of South Vietnam's troubles. They identified external aggression, not internal instability, as the primary problem. For this
reason, improving Saigon's effectiveness seemed, to them, an incidental goal
at best. Mustin and the Joint Chiefs sought little from a South Vietnamese
government; they simply wanted a government which would "afford [a]
platform upon which the . . . armed forces, with US assistance, prosecute
the war."7
With Bundy and Mustin stressing such different problems, the Working
Group seemed incapable of agreeing on options for the President. But
there was a third member of the group whose thinking bridged their division: John McNaughton.
McNaughton had joined the Working Group as Robert McNamara's personal representative. It was his close association with the Defense Secretary
that had first drawn McNaughton into Vietnam planning. As McNamara
had assumed greater day-to-day responsibility for Vietnam, he had turned
to McNaughton, the Department's general counsel and then Assistant Secretary for International Security Affairs, for advice and assistance on this
difficult issue.
McNamara had enlisted a man of similar intellectual temperament, who
shared his boss's penchant for translating the facets of a problem into
statistical probabilities in order to facilitate precise, objective decisions.
McNaughton's legal background, particularly his expertise in the field of
evidence, encouraged him to view issues with the cold logic so valued by his
profession. He was a brilliant lawyer and able bureaucrat whose rigorous
analytical manner had earned McNamara's respect.
McNaughton's standing in the Working Group benefited from this fact.
It also benefited from McNaughton's position in relation to Bundy and
28
Mustin. He reconciled their divergent viewpoints. Because of this, McNaughton would greatly influence the Working Group's final recommendations to the President.
McNaughton's thinking reflected a precarious compromise between competing perspectives on Vietnam. He shared Bundy's misgivings about Saigon's political future, understanding that "[pjrogress inside SVN [was] important" but suspecting that it was "unlikely despite our best ideas and
efforts. . . ."
This realization, paradoxically, led McNaughton to support Mustin's call
for increased military pressure against Hanoi. If the South Vietnamese government could not be made more stable and effective, then the only solution, he thought, lay in weakening the Vietcong's ability to challenge that
government, by reducing its reliance on North Vietnamese support.
McNaughton knew such action would not address the fundamental issue.
"Action against North Vietnam," he admitted, "is to some extent a substitute for strengthening the government of South Vietnam." But because
McNaughton saw little hope of solving the root problem of Saigon's political
disorder, he chose to focus on a secondary oneHanoi's support of the
insurgencywhich seemed more amenable to American action. As McNaughton reasoned, "a less active VC (on orders from DRV [Hanoi] can be
matched by a less efficient GVN [Saigon]. We therefore should consider
squeezing North Vietnam."
McNaughton included action against North Vietnam in the options he
proposed to the Working Group. They were: continuing along present lines,
which he labeled Option A; escalating immediately and heavily against
North Vietnam, which he labeled Option B; and escalating graduallyfirst
against infiltration routes in Laos, then against North Vietnam itselfwhich
he labeled Option C.
McNaughton's options seemed to lack any attention to the propriety of
withdrawal. This was not the case. He considered withdrawal an inevitable
result of Option A. McNaughton deliberately rejected this course in favor of
Option C. "If Option C is tried and fails," he argued, it "would still leave
behind a better odor than Option A: It would demonstrate that [the] US
was a 'good doctor' willing to keep promises, be tough, take risks, get bloodied, and hurt the enemy badly."8
McNaughton wanted the United States to continue playing the "good
doctor"ministering to a patient he considered beyond resuscitationin
order to dramatize America's anti-communist resolve. By this logic, a hopeless case actually required more intensive treatmentdeepening America's
commitment in the face of South Vietnam's deepening failureif only to
prove Washington's determinationits toughnessto the rest of the world.
McNaughton's logic prevailed. The Working Group's chairman soon em-
29
braced Option C. Bundy believed it offered more hope than the deteriorating status quo inherent in Option A, and appeared "more controllable and
less risky" than the major escalation contemplated under Option B.
Although Bundy endorsed Option C, he feared the domestic political
repercussions of military action that failed to produce quick, decisive results.
Bundy sensed Option C was "inherently likely to stretch out and to be subject to major pressures both within the US and internationally." This could
force the administration into a vice between conservatives clamoring for
heavier bombing and liberals demanding an end to it.
Such a scenario reminded him of America's experience during the Korean
War. Bundy hastened to note its painful lessons:
As we saw in Korea, an "in-between" course of action will always arouse a
school of thought that believes things should be tackled quickly and conclusively. On the other side, the continuation of military action . . . will arouse
sharp criticism in other political quarters.
30
destined to achieve his cherished domestic program. Nothing, it now appeared, stood between LBJ and the fulfillment of his Great Society.
But Johnson, the seasoned politician, knew better. He realized this blessing was also a potential cursethat his mandate was a fragile and ephemeral
commodity in the world of political rivalry and jealousy. LBJ reflected on
this irony to friends at the time. "When you win big, you can have anything
you want for a time," he said. "You come home with that big landslide and
there isn't a one of them who'll stand in your way." "No," he sneered,
"they'll be glad to be aboard and to have their photograph taken with you
and be part of all that victory. They'll come along and they'll give you
almost everything you want for a while, and then"LBJ paused for a moment"they'll turn on you. They always do." He could almost see it.
"They'll lay in waiting, waiting for you to make a slip and you will. They'll
give you almost everything and then they'll make you pay for it. They'll get
tired of all those columnists writing how smart you are and how weak they
are and then the pendulum will swing back."11
Johnson seemed haunted by the prospect of a confrontation with Congress,
strangely obsessed with political constraints in this, the afterglow of his
greatest political triumph. These fears sprang from an experience in LBJ's
early political career. Johnson had first entered Congress in May 1937, just
three months after Franklin Roosevelt had introduced his notorious Supreme Court reorganization bill. LBJ never forgot how Congress had seized
on FDR's court-packing plan, attacking the President and crippling his
political effectiveness just months after his landslide victory in the 1936
election.
Now, after the 1964 election, Johnson feared a repetition of Roosevelt's
ordeal. He had no illusions about the present Congress's ability to humble
him in the same way that a past one had humbled FDR. LBJ fretted about
this to New York Times Managing Editor Turner Catledge shortly after his
November victory. "Franklin Roosevelt came back here in 1937 after the
biggest landslide in history," he reminded Catledge, a reporter in New Deal
Washington, "[b]ut by April he couldn't get Congress to pass the time of
day." Johnson paused heavily, then whispered, "You're not going to catch
me getting into a mess like that."12
LBJ intended to avoid this fate by steering clear of any issue, such as
Vietnam, which might provoke his opponents on the Hill. Johnson explained
his concern to staff aides in early 1965. "I was just elected President by the
biggest popular margin in the history of the country, fifteen million votes,"
he told them. But that margin had begun to slip. "Just by the natural way
people think," LBJ said, "I have already lost about two of these fifteen."
"If I get in any fight with Congress," he hastened to add, "I will lose another
couple of million, and if I have to send more of our boys into Vietnam, I
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32
but not enough to consider withdrawal. That idea seemed too dangerous
too politically explosiveto merit serious attention.18
Similar thoughts guided the Principals when they met, five days later, to
review the Working Group's progress.16 The Principals first tackled Option
A. Continuing along present lines meant further deterioration, they felt,
eventually leading to a U.S. withdrawal. They conceded, however, that
South Vietnam might come apart under any option. Despite this admission,
Rusk, in particular, remained adamantly opposed to Option A. He believed
the consequences of a South Vietnamese collapse would be catastrophic to
U.S. interests, seriously undermining America's position in Southeast Asia.
For these reasons, Rusk considered withdrawal unthinkable.
With Rusk so vigorously opposed, Option A appeared doomed. Yet no
one present forcibly advocated heavy escalation under Option B. They all
gravitated to Option C.
Here is where the Principals focused their attention. But rather than
analyzing the merits of Option C, they simply concentrated on its execution.
The decision, itself, seemed a foregone conclusion.
The Principals suspected Option C might provoke increased North Vietnamese infiltration into the Southso strongly, in fact, that Rusk and Bundy
suggested introducing American ground troops near the DMZ to deter such
a reaction. Ball expressed serious doubts about committing U.S. combat
forces, citing France's experience during the Indochina War. He considered
an air campaign "better," because it would avoid "the French dilemma."
Though opposed to American ground intervention, Ball seemed amenable
to American bombing.
The Principals finally addressed the issue of negotiations, proposed by the
Working Group as an adjunct to escalation. They displayed little interest
in this side of the equation. Bundy saw "no hurry," he said, in pursuing
early talks. Like the others, he wished to strengthen Washington's bargaining leverage before approaching the negotiating table.17
As the Principals in Washington moved toward endorsement of Option C,
President Johnson restlessly pondered his Vietnam predicament at the LBJ
Ranch in Texas. Johnson knew important decisions awaited his return to
the White House after Thanksgiving. Seeking advice about which path to
follow, LBJ summoned his old Senate mentor, Richard Russell, to the ranch.
Russell visited Johnson on November 24. The senator conveyed a sense of
his meeting with LBJ to reporters when he returned to Washington the
following day. "We either have to get out or take some action to help the
Vietnamese," Russell said, remembering his conversation with the President,
because "[t]hey won't help themselves." "We made' a big mistake going [in]
33
there," he added, "but I can't figure . . . any way to get out without scaring
the rest of the world."18
Johnson's own frustration erupted during a news conference on November
28. Standing on the front lawn of LBJ's ranch, correspondents asked the
President whether he contemplated expansion of the war into North Vietnam. Johnson, glancing wistfully toward the Pedernales River streaming
past before him, offered a frank but bitter reply. "I don't want to give you
any particular guideposts," he said, "[b]ut when you crawl out on a limb,
you always have to find another one to crawl back on."19
The Working Group, which had been seeking that limb for the President,
submitted its final report to the Principals on Thanksgiving Day, November
26. Bundy and McNaughton endorsed gradual escalation against North
Vietnam, even as they raised doubts about its effectiveness. They expected
bombing to weaken the Vietcong, but not to vanquish it, because the VC's
"primary" strength remained "indigenous." They expected bombing to inhibit North Vietnam's infiltration of men and supplies, but not to stop it,
because Hanoi, "[e]ven if severely damaged . . . could still direct and support the Viet Cong . . . at a reduced level."
Why did Bundy and McNaughton recommend a course promising such
meager results? The answer lay in Bundy's assessment of the American interests at stake. Bundy depicted Washington's commitment to Saigon as a
crucial symbol of its global credibility. Losing South Vietnam meant "a
major blow" to that credibility, he asserted, undermining others' faith in
America's resolve. Because of this, Bundy deemed the preservation of a
non-communist South Vietnam essential, whatever the limits of escalation
against North Vietnam.
With Bundy's political considerations in mind, McNaughton evaluated
the proposed options. Although he favored Option C, McNaughton astutely
analyzed the other two. Option A promised further deterioration, perhaps
leading to American withdrawal. Yet it also meant, in McNaughton's words,
that "defeat would be clearly due to GVN failure, and we ourselves would
be less implicated than if we tried Option B or Option C, and failed. . . ."
Besides, he added, "the most likely result would be . . . an eventually unified Communist Vietnam [which] would reassert its traditional hostility to
Communist China and limit its own ambitions to Laos and Cambodia."
Option B, on the other hand, offered greater military results, tempered by
the danger of a wider war. Hanoi and the Vietcong might be bombarded
into a settlement, McNaughton wrote, but only at "considerably higher risks
of major military conflict . . . with Communist China"a prospect few
wished to invite.
34
35
Washington had to act sooner. The Ambassador conceded air strikes against
Hanoi might not improve Saigon's political health. The others acknowledged this possibility, but endorsed Option C nonetheless.24
William Bundy, who also attended this meeting, put the Principals' recommendation into an "action paper" designed to serve as the focus of discussion at the December 1 White House meeting.
In his paper, Bundy outlined the proposed scenario: "first phase" "armed
reconnaisance strikes" against infiltration routes in Laos, followed by "second phase" "graduated military pressures," or bombing, against North
Vietnam. The "first phase" of Option C would start immediately. The
"second phase" would be implemented laterif Saigon improved its effectiveness "to an acceptable degree" and Hanoi failed to yield "on acceptable
terms." But Bundy qualified this requirement and, in doing so, revealed the
planners' deepest concern. "[I]f the GVN can only be kept going by stronger
action," he wrote, then "the US is prepared . . . to enter into a second
phase program. . . ." Here lay the fundamental reason for Option C. Bundy
and his colleagues viewed escalation primarily as a desperate remedy for
South Vietnam's political decline.25
Tuesday, December 1, dawned sunny and cold in Washington, D.C. The
previous day's snow, the first of the season, had covered the capital in a thin
blanket of white. This wintry scene contrasted vividly with the humid,
sweltering atmosphere of Saigon, whose troubles would occupy center stage
at the White House that morning.
Johnson had returned to the White House over the weekend from his
Thanksgiving vacation at the LBJ Ranch. His principal advisers, now assembled in the Cabinet Room, awaited the President's arrival.26
LBJ strode through the doorway shortly before noon. Pulling his highbacked black leather chair up to the Cabinet table, Johnson began by asking
Taylor about South Vietnam's political situation.
The Ambassador sketched a dismal picture. "Weak government and Vietcong strength" continued to plague Saigon, he reported. Huong's month-old
regime "won't collapse immediately," Taylor figured, but it already appeared a "losing game."
The President grudgingly agreed. It "looks like Huong is on a newspaper
out in [the] middle of [the] Atlantic," LBJ mutteredwhichever way he
"moves, [he will] get wet and sink."
Johnson knew this spelled trouble. The "most essential [thing] is a stable
government," LBJ stressed, indispensable to any progress. "What's there we
can do to hold it together?" he lamented. "You can't use LeMay's bombers
and McNamara's missiles."
Johnson knew political problems demanded political remedies. Huong
36
needed "to pull all [of South Vietnam's] groups together," just as he had
pulled Americans together following Kennedy's assassination.
"How [to] bring these people together," LBJ repeatedthis represented
the greatest problem. However difficult, Johnson wanted it done, even "if
it takes all fifty [states] and [the] Rockefeller^'] money." "They do it or
else," he said, glowering at Ambassador Taylor.
Until South Vietnam achieved political stability, LBJ hesitated to expand
American military action. Johnson saw "no point hitting the North," he
explained, "if [the] South [is] not together."
The longer LBJ spoke, the madder he got. Suddenly, his frustration
erupted. "Why not say 'This is it!'" the President shouted, and vow "not
[to] send Johnson City boy[s] out to die if they [continue] acting as they
are."
After this outburst, Johnson's anger subsided. He turned his attention to
the military situation, quizzing Taylor about Vietcong and ARVN force
levels.
The Ambassador cited "80-100,000 VC," which included "34,000 hard
core; 60-80,000 regular and part-time" troops. South Vietnam's army, he
noted by comparison, comprised "550,000 [soldiers]; 200,000 regulars."
The figures astounded Johnson: "How [can] 34,000 lick 200,000?"
General Wheeler, sensing the President's discontent with military progress, interjected praise for MACV's "excellent" counterinsurgency program.
An excellent program that had "failed," LBJ retorted.
This comment reflected Johnson's irritation at the growing pressure for
dramatic new steps. The "day of reckoning [is] coming," he said, and "[I]
want to be sure we've done everything we can." "[There have] got to be
some things still to do," LBJ pleaded, but "what?"
To Taylor, the answer seemed clear. "We must get Hanoi out of the
[infiltration] business," he told the President.
"But hadn't we better shape up before we do anything" against the
North? Johnson responded. Otherwise, it would be like "send[ing] [a] widow
woman to slap Jack Dempsey."
LBJ returned to this theme several minutes later. America's first objective
in South Vietnam, the President emphasized, must be "to pull [a] stable
government together." Turning to Taylor, he admonished the Ambassador:
"Before Wheeler saddles up, try everything."
To emphasize his point, Johnson likened Saigon to a sickly patient. He
hesitated "to sock" South Vietnam's "neighbor" with Saigon's "fever" running at "104 degrees." LBJ wanted South Vietnam "to get well first," so that
when he told "Wheeler to slap, we can take [North Vietnam's] slap back."
"[I] doubt that Hanoi will slap back," Taylor answered.
37
88
Taylor, himself, knew from personal experience how elusive LBJ's demand for political stability and effectiveness in South Vietnam remained.
He intended to see through the President's request, but with little expectation of success.
"Stable Government
or No Stable Government"
40
41
42
Bundy submitted his rebuttal to the President several days later. While
acknowledging the need for "a more effective and better supported government in Saigon," Bundy dismissed Mansfield's warning against escalation.
"[I]t would be a mistake to make a commitment against any U.S. action . . .
beyond the borders of South Vietnam," he wrote. To do so, Bundy argued,
meant ignoring Hanoi's support of the Vietcong. He urged Johnson to stay
the course. That entailed "years of involvement in South Vietnam," Bundy
admitted, "though not necessarily 'a vast increase in the commitment,'" as
Mansfield had predicted.3
Whatever his lingering doubts, LBJ sustained his earlier decision. On
December 14, 1964, American bombers launched their first attacks against
communist infiltration routes in Laos. The "first phase" of escalation, codenamed BARREL ROLL, had begun.
Ambassador Taylor, meanwhile, had returned to Saigon armed with new
instructions from the President. These instructions reflected Johnson's
mounting frustration with Saigon and his desire for political improvement.
LBJ cited two "primary causes" of trouble in South Vietnam: Saigon's
instability and Hanoi's support of the Vietcong insurgency. Johnson did not,
however, consider these problems "of equal importance"; he believed there
must be "a stable, effective government to conduct a successful campaign
against the Viet Cong even if the aid of North Vietnam for the VC should
end." "While the elimination of North Vietnamese intervention will raise
morale on our side and make it easier for the government to function,"
LBJ continued, "it will not in itself end the war against the Viet Cong."
That required the political wherewithal Saigon had yet to muster. Until it
did, Johnson hesitated to "incur the risks which are inherent in such an
expansion of hostilities. . . ."
LBJ first wanted Saigon to meet certain "minimum criteria." They were
hardly ambitious: an ability "to speak for and to its people"; the maintenance of "law and order in its principal centers of population"; and the
effective execution of operations "by military and police forces completely
responsive to its authority." So far, Johnson had seen little progress in any
of these areas. Instead, he saw repeated evidence of "heedless self-interest
and shortsightedness among nearly all major groups in South Vietnam."
Despite his lack of faith in the Saigon regime, LBJ authorized Taylor to
initiate joint planning for the bombing of North Vietnam. Johnson instructed the ambassador, however, to emphasize the contingency of such
planningto make clear that air strikes against Hanoi would commence
only "after the GVN has shown itself firmly in control."4
Taylor delivered the President's message to South Vietnamese leaders on
December 7. The ambassador told Huong and Khanh to shape up their
43
44
45
eral Minh, and several of his allies, from the army. The Young Turks seized
this occasion as a pretext to dissolve the HNC, creating an Armed Forces
Council (AFC), under Khanh's control, as its replacement.
The action, predictably, infuriated Taylor, who immediately summoned
the plotters to his embassy office. Rather than confront Taylor personally,
Khanh sent Ky, Thi, and two other members of the new AFCRear Admiral
Chung Tan Gang, chief of the South Vietnamese Navy, and Brigadier General Nguyen Van Thieu, the bright and ambitious new commander of
ARVN's IV Corpsto face the ambassador.
The showdown began shortly after noon. Like a principle confronting
wayward students, Taylor curtly greeted his visitors, many of whom had
attended a dinner at Westmoreland's residence on December 8, where the
ambassador had stressed the need for stable government.
"Do all of you understand English?" Taylor opened.
Yes, the Young Turks answered.
Taylor then launched his rebuke. "I told you all clearly," he said, that
"we Americans were tired of coups." "I made it clear that all the military
plans which I know you would like to carry out are dependent on governmental stability." "Now," he snorted, "you have made a real mess." His
voice rising, Taylor added a warning: "We cannot carry you forever if you
do things like this."
Perhaps the Young Turks knew better. Ky certainly did. Stung by Taylor's
suggestion that he had thwarted the objective agreed on over dinner at
Westmoreland's just days earlier, Ky sarcastically challenged the ambassador. "[Y]ou didn't waste your dinner," he said to Taylor, "because I can tell
you, Mr. Ambassador, that I never had such a good piece of steak. As a poor
man in a poor country I have never had the chance to eat such a good steak
as you gave to us." "No," Ky went on, "I really appreciated your dinner."
Satisfied that his irony had registered, Ky suddenly switched gears, professing to Taylor his solemn loyalty to civilian rule. "We trust and support
Huong," he declared; "We have no political ambitions." Having purged the
government of its "bad members," Ky and his fellow officers were "now
ready to go back to our units."
At this, Taylor finally exploded. "You cannot go back to your units, General Ky. You are up to your necks in politics!"
Ky insisted the Young Turks had no intention "to grab power."
Whatever the intention, retorted Taylor, "it is the consequence of what
you have done."
The ambassador then turned to Khanh's role in the morning's events.
Had Khanh directed the HNC's dissolution? Taylor asked.
"Yes," the Young Turks admitted.
Taylor, exasperated and bitter, looked toward the Young Turks leaving
46
his office and said: "You people have broken a lot of dishes and now we
have to see how we can straighten out this mess."10
One sure way, Taylor thought, lay in confronting Khanhgiving "shock
treatment," as he explained to Washington, "to restore a sense of responsibility to the leadership of this unhappy land." So, the following morning,
Taylor called on the general. The real showdown had come.11
Who ordered the HNG abolished? Taylor demanded.
The "army," Khanh replied.
Taylor had heard enough. He told Khanh that he had lost the ambassador's confidence; it would be best for Khanh to step down.
Taylor had forced the issuelaying out, in unambiguous terms, his displeasure at the general's scheming. He knew this might provoke more
trouble from Khanh. But, as Taylor cabled Washington about their encounter, "If the military get away with this irresponsible intervention in
the government and with flaunting proclaimed U.S. policy, there will be no
living with them in the future."12
During his bout with Taylor, Khanh had intimated a willingness to step
down, as the ambassador had requested. But the general sounded a different
note to journalists the next day. Excoriating Taylor for activities "beyond
imagination," Khanh defended the AFC's exploit. The military's decision
"to again assume their responsibility before history is proof of their good
faith," he proclaimed. Their action, Khanh suggested in an accompanying
release, "speaks up for the political maturity of the Vietnamese armed
forces."13
With these remarks, General Khanh had seized the offensive. Soon he
launched a public campaign to oust Ambassador Taylor. But with Washington's backing, including a threatened cutoff of military aid to ARVN, and
behind-the-scenes discussions between American embassy officials and South
Vietnamese officers, the crisis gradually subsided, with Taylor and Khanh
reaching an uneasy standoff.
Saigon's latest political skirmish exasperated President Johnson. LBJ wanted
South Vietnamese bickering to stop; instead, he got news of the military's
coup against the HNC and Khanh's vendetta against Taylor. The turmoil
Johnson hoped to end, in order to avoid taking action against North Vietnam, had only worsened.
Discouraged and anxious about these developments, LBJ called Walter
Lippmann to the White House shortly before Christmas to discuss the war.
Johnson knew the journalist's position on Vietnamnegotiated U.S. withdrawal leading to a neutralized Southeast Asia. Though not administration
policy, LBJ respected Lippmann's knowledge of foreign affairs and valued
his advice.
47
During their conversation in the Oval Office that afternoon, the President
openly mourned his situation. "This is a commitment I inherited," he complained to Lippmann. "I don't like it," Johnson grumbled, "but how can I
pull out?"14
LBJ's uneasiness also reflected his sensitivity to popular opinion. Recent
polls indicated deep division over the wisdom of American involvement in
the war, with less than half the public47 percentbelieving "we did the
right thing in getting into the fighting." Surveys also revealed growing discontent over Johnson's handling of Vietnam policy, with 50 percent saying
that LBJ was "handling affairs there badly." This latter figure particularly
concerned the President. Johnson knew his detractors included many conservatives who wished to prosecute the war more vigorously, to discard
political pressure on Saigon in favor of military pressure against Hanoi.15
This thought dogged the President, at that moment preparing his upcoming Great Society agenda. For LBJ's agenda included a dramatic, and politically sensitive, shift in budgetary priorities: a 49 percent ($3.6 billion) increase in social spending, to be offset, in part, by a 2 percent ($1 billion)
reduction in defense expenditures.16
Johnson expected strong opposition to this shift from proponents of military spending, including many powerful conservatives chairing key congressional committees. He feared these conservatives might vent their opposition
indirectly, by championing escalation, in public, as a remedy to South Vietnam's decline and, in private, as a check on the President's social reforms.
LBJ explained his fear privately to close friends at the time:
If we get into this war I know what's going to happen. Those damn conservatives . . . in Congress . . . [are] going to use this war as a way of opposing my
Great Society legislation. . . . They hate this stuff, they don't want to help the
poor and the Negroes. . . . But the war, oh, they'll like the war. They'll take
the war as their weapon. They'll be against my programs because of the war. I
know what they'll say, they'll say they're not against it, not against the poor,
but we have this job to do, beating the Communists. We beat the Communists
first, then we can look around and maybe give something to the poor.17
Johnson anticipated rising conservative pressure in Congress; he encountered immediate conservative pressure in the media. Journalistic critics, impatient with the President's watchful posture, began pushing for stronger
action in Vietnam.
They included, first and foremost, Joseph Alsop, a veteran Washington
insider and confirmed Cold Warrior. Through his close contacts with high
government officials, Alsop had quickly learned of LBJ's December 1 Vietnam conference. Johnson's marked reluctance at this meeting infuriated the
hawkish Alsop, who started privately lobbying for tougher measures. In
secret talks with Ambassador Taylor in Saigon later that month, Alsop
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from South Vietnam with thoughts on the political and military situation,
which Hoyt forwarded to his close friend, the President.
LBJ rarely read unsolicited mail, but he read this letter closely. Hosokawa's memo teemed with unvarnished observations seldom expressed to the
President by his advisers. "The solution to Vietnam's problems lie within
the country," Hosokawa wrote, "because they rise from within the country."
As evidence, Hosokawa cited these items:
This is a civil war, an insurrection, rather than an invasion. The largest percentage of the rebel Viet Cong forces are made up of South Vietnamese who
have joined the Communist cause.
The Viet Cong guerrillas are largely self-sufficient. They get 90 per cent of
their military supplies in raids on government outposts, i.e., they are waging
their war with U.S. weapons. When they run short of guns or ammunition they
don't have to depend on supply lines from the north; they simply stage another
raid.
. . . [Tjhere are few vulnerable supply lines as we know themonly a few rail
lines, highways and bridges in North Vietnam, and none in the border areas.
What comes down from the north comes over jungle trails, on the backs of
coolies, and most of these trails are invisible from the air. The threat to bomb
cities and supply dumps in the north in retaliation for attacks in the south is
a dangerous game of blackmail that could quickly escalate.
. . . [T]he war in South Vietnam would continue for a long, long time even
if we sealed that country off from the North. The guerrillas in South Vietnam
have able, self-sufficient leadership. This leadership is encouraged and directed
in a general way from the North, but none of this could be stopped simply by
sealing off the borders.
Given these realities, Hosokawa believed the solution in South Vietnam lay
in creating "a strong government that will unite the nation's war effort."
Washington should "make clear in no uncertain terms that the first order of
business is to establish a stable government so that the war can be won," the
journalist concluded.21
Hosokawa's reasoning appealed to Johnson, evoking his own deepest concerns about Vietnam. LBJ forwarded this letter to McGeorge Bundy at the
White House, along with a short personal note. "I very much agree with
Hosokawa," Johnson wrote his adviser. "Put your good mind to work along
this line and let's get something else moving on this front."22
South Vietnam's political climate, however, remained stubbornly volatile,
with continuing Buddhist agitation weakening Huong's government and
narrowing the likelihood of achieving the stability LBJ deemed essential.
As Johnson's hopes for political order in Saigon diminished, Vietcong ter-
50
Johnson stressed, however, that he had reached no firm decision; "I am not
giving any order at all in this message," he hastened to note. "But in this
tough situation in which the final responsibility is mine and the stakes are
very high indeed, I have wanted you to have this full and frank statement
of the way I see it."24
51
Although Taylor had failed to win LBJ's approval for air reprisals, he
did not welcome Johnson's contemplated alternative. The ambassador explained his reservations to the introduction of American ground forces in a
telegram to the President on January 6, 1965.
Taylor's thinking was simple. "[T]heir military value," he argued, "would
be more than offset by their political liability." An old soldier himself,
Taylor understood ARVN's weaknessesits political interference, its low
morale, its lassitude in the field. Introducing U.S. troops would not solve
these problems; indeed, it might exacerbate them. As Taylor told LBJ:
The Vietnamese have the manpower and the basic skills to win this war. What
they lack is motivation. The entire advisory effort has been devoted to giving
them both skill and motivation. If that effort has not succeeded there is less
reason to think that U.S. combat forces would have the desired effect. In fact,
there is good reason to believe that they would have the opposite effect by
causing some Vietnamese to let the U.S. carry the burden while others, probably the majority, would turn actively against us. Thus intervention with
ground combat forces would at best buy time and would lead to ever increasing
commitments until, like the French, we would be occupying an essentially hostile foreign country.
52
picture for the President. "We are faced with a seriously deteriorating situation," Taylor told Johnson. Despite South Vietnam's military jeopardy, he
perceived no end to the reckless squabbling among its leaders. "We cannot
expect anything better than marginal government and marginal pacification
progress," Taylor bluntly confessed, "unless something new is added to make
up for those things we cannot control."
Here was the nub of America's dilemma. The things Washington could
least influence or control lay at the heart of Saigon's troubles. Taylor identified them clearly: "chronic factionalism, civilian-military suspicion and distrust, absence of national spirit and motivation, lack of cohesion in the
social structure, lack of experience in the conduct of government." These
attributes reflected traditions deeply rooted in South Vietnam's political
past. They were not easily susceptible to change, nor to U.S. pressure, as the
ambassador had painfully learned.
Taylor recognized the imperative of political order in Saigon, but having
lost hope of achieving that order through solemn appeals to the South Vietnamese, he turned, once again, to military action against the North Vietnamese.
The ambassador acknowledged LBJ's reluctance on this score. "I know
that this is an old recipe with little attractiveness," he admitted. But Taylor
perceived no alternative. "We are presently on a losing track and must risk
a change," warning that "to take no positive action now is to accept defeat
in the fairly near future."
Should Johnson approve his plan, Taylor saw few problems in implementing it. Washington could simply "look for an occasion to begin air operations" against Hanoi. "When decided to act," he suggested, "we can justify
that decision on the basis of infiltration, of VC terrorism, of attacks on
DESOTO patrols or any combination of the three." Having urged bombing
as therapy for the South's political malaise, Taylor seemed ready to explain
it in very different termsas a response to aggression from the North.27
Ambassador Taylor's January 6 cables precipitated a feeling of crisis in
Washington. His dark analysis, expressed in blunt and alarming tones, jolted
policymakers who hoped current efforts might somehow stabilize Saigon's
rapidly worsening situation. As soon as Taylor's telegrams reached the
White House, LBJ immediately summond McNamara, Rusk, Ball, and McGeorge Bundy for a crucial conference in the Cabinet Room.
Twilight had begun to settle over Washington as the meeting began
shortly after 5 p.m. The President and his advisers quickly focused on Taylor's grave prognosis and recommendations. Secretary of State Rusk, speaking first, stressed the seriousness of the moment. "We can't fail to make
every effort to change the situation on the scene," he told the others, "because the alternatives are so grim."
53
McNamara agreed that "we should do all we can" in South Vietnam, but
he feared "it won't be enough unless we do more." The ceaseless bickering
among Saigon's various factions had crushed his faith in South Vietnam's
political future. McNamara read from Taylor's December 20 conversation
with the Young Turks, which Bundy had sent Johnson the previous night,
to underscore his pessimism about further exhortation.
George Ball voiced even gloomier doubts about Saigon's political fortunes. "[This is] not a country[but] a piece of one," he quipped, and one
that had grown "damned tired after twenty years" of war. Ball then delivered a grim diagnosis: "[This] regime has got [the] smell of death. You
can't pin 'em together."
Ball saw an ominous road ahead. Conceding that "[our] options are all
bad," he felt that "risks of escalation [are] too great, if [the South Vietnamese] regime remains slippery." "We should make [a] heroic effortbut
not delude ourselves," Ball advised the President, flatly adding, "We should
be looking at diplomatic tracks to a bad end."
McNamara resisted Ball's assessment, arguing that stepped-up pacification
efforts promised some improvement. Ball strongly disagreed: "We can do all
manner of [these] things, but this doesn't get to [the] root of it"the interminable political squabbling in Saigon, which Ball considered beyond Washington's power to mend.
Still, Ball offered no clear solution. "[D]o we take [the] diplomatic initiative?" he mused. "[D]o we risk escalation?" or "[Do we] keep on till we get
asked out?"
Rusk judged the latter option unthinkable and unnecessary. "[I]n Asia,
[we] have made bricks without mortar for twenty-five years," he asserted.
"You haven't" in South Vietnam, LBJ shot back, evidently frustrated.
McGeorge Bundy chimed in with his own assessment. He believed circumstances warranted instituting the long-postponed "Phase II" air strikes
against North Vietnam, thus paving a "strong road to negotiations."
Ball questioned Bundy's logic. "[B]e aware of assumptions," he cautionedparticularly the notion that "[i]f we escalate the war it will strengthen
[Saigon's] base."
President Johnson expressed similar doubts. "[I am] skeptical of [the]
view that escalation can help us in [building] morale," he said.
"[Escalation can bring two-way activity," Ball continued, therefore, "we
must be ready to talk." After all, "large responses are possible."
"We all agree" on that, Bundy said, but something must be done to avert
Saigon's imminent collapse.
Rusk shared Bundy's frustration, but not his enthusiasm for systematic
strikes against North Vietnam. "Reprisal specifics are one thing," the Secretary of State remarked, "but 'Phase II' is quite another."
54
LBJ fully agreed. He let Rusk finish, then wondered aloud: "How can we
go down the reprisal road without being ready? [I] have never thought
reprisals would help stabilize the [South Vietnamese] government. They're
not sufficiently effective to bring you to the conference table." But the President felt ensnared, "because escalation is dangerous and pulling out is
dangerous."
Johnson resolved this desperate dilemma by approving reluctantly what
he had questioned just moments before. "We are going to have reprisals,"
he said, hoping they "may help to give [Saigon] more stability." Again, the
pressure of events had led LBJ to embrace what he instinctively mistrusted
escalation against North Vietnam.28
That evening, the President cabled his decision to Ambassador Taylor in
Saigon. At last, Johnson expressed his intention "to adopt a policy of
prompt and clear reprisal," but "without present commitment as to the
timing and scale" of regular attacks against the North. LBJ, reluctant as
ever, wanted to proceed slowly, testing the effectiveness of separate reprisals
before launching a regular bombing campaign.29
He also wanted to proceed quietly, without revealing his step to the public. Rejecting McGeorge Bundy's advice to announce the new measure, Johnson instructed Taylor to reveal the decision through "inconspicuous background briefings rather than [a] formal public statement."30
This maneuver reflected LBJ's continued reluctance to confront publicly
the problems of Vietnam. Johnson sensed the ominous trend of eventsthe
interminable disorder in Saigon crippling the war effort and increasing the
pressure in Washington to take stronger actionand feared its consequences:
an Americanized war diverting national attention and resources from his
legislative program. LBJ intended to minimize these political dangers by
minimizing public awareness and debate.
It must be remembered, after all, that the Great Society, not Vietnam,
represented Johnson's top concern at the beginning of 1965. Just three days
before notifying Taylor of his acceptance of reprisal bombings, LBJ had
delivered his State of the Union address. In that speech, Johnson had
sketched his priorities during the coming year. Vietnam had received scant
attention. In little more than 130 words, LBJ had briefly reaffirmed America's commitment to Saigon. The bulk of Johnson's addressmore than
2,600 wordshad been devoted to his expansive reform agenda: aid to education, health care for the elderly and the poor, urban planning, beautification, voting rights, support for the arts.31
LBJ elaborated these themes in his inaugural address on January 20.
Standing on the Capitol steps in the brisk early afternoon sunshine, the
President described, in moving language, his deepest desires for the country.
"For every generation there is a destiny," he said. "For some, history de-
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56
Rusk had addressed Hanoi's involvement in the conflict, without emphasizing its military support and political influence over the Vietcongthemes
commonly stressed in his public statements on the war. The Secretary, in
this private moment, had revealed his deepest concern, which centered on
Saigon's governmental turmoil.
This remained the President's deepest concern, too. LBJ told the congressional leaders that South Vietnamese, not American, forces must ultimately carry the struggle. "We cannot control everything that they do,"
Johnson said, but "we have to count on their fighting their [own] war."35
For Saigon to fight its own war, it first needed to mend its ruinous political
divisions. And this it still failed to do, thanks to General Khanh. His liquidation of the HNC had seriously weakened Huong's government. Now
Khanh, having maneuvered himself back into partial power, intended to
complete the process by forcing Huong from office. Huong, the target of
Khanh's ambition, explained his situation well: "a thousand gold coins
won't buy a day of tranquility for a man in my position." Most observers
simply awaited Khanh's next move. As one Saigon official had remarked at
the time of the HNC's dissolution, "This is just the first act. Everyone is in
suspense to see how the coup finally ends."36
Before the final curtain, however, Khanh staged a conciliatory intermission. In feigned response to Taylor's pressure, Khanh signed, along with
Huong and Suu, a joint communique, reaffirming the military's unqualified
commitment to civilian rule. The agreement, released on January 9, 1965,
also mandated a new interim legislaturethe "Constituent Assembly"to
replace the toppled HNC.
Khanh had made his peace, however temporary, with Huong. That left
the Buddhists as the major element outside the coalition. Thich Tarn Chau
and especially Thich Tri Quang now held the balance of political power
between Huong and Khanh; their allegiance would determine the final
victor.
Khanh understood that in order to regain power, he would have to parley
with the Buddhists. The general therefore approached Chau and Quang
once more, seeking their help in bringing down Huong.37
The bonzes readily obliged, resuming their anti-government agitation. On
January 12, Quang's followers launched a general strike in Hue. The same
afternoon, in Saigon, Chau denounced Huong's alleged persecution of religious dissenters.
As opposition to the government mounted, the American embassy received word of Khanh's latest plotting. Ambassador Taylor, whose personal
relationship with Khanh was in tatters, sent his deputy, Alexis Johnson, to
confront the general.
57
During their meeting, Johnson questioned Khanh about his latest political
interference. The general, dressed in paratrooper's uniform and red beret,
vehemently denied any intention of "returning to power." He laughingly
dismissed rumors of a coup.38
Huong took them seriously. In a desperate attempt to neutralize military
opposition to his civilian government, Prime Minister Huong appointed
several Young Turks to the cabinet on January 18, including General Thieu
and Air Vice-Marshal Ky. Through this reshuffle, Huong hoped to co-opt
Khanh, by luring his supporters into the government and associating them
with its policies. Instead, Huong's action gave the military an even larger
voice in the government, while magnifying perceptions of his own weakness.
Emboldened by Huong's appeasement, the Buddhists intensified their agitation. Quang and Chau launched hunger strikes on January 20 aimed to
hasten the Prime Minister's ouster. The two bonzes also dispatched a delegation to Taylor, urging him to force Huong's resignation, which the ambassador refused to do.
When these efforts failed to produce the desired result, the Buddhist
leadership ordered their followers back into the streets. On January 23, mobs
demonstrated before the American embassy in Saigon and sacked the United
States Information Service Library in Hud.89
This triggered Khanh's final maneuver. Within hours, the Young Turks
appointed by Huong began murmuring doubts about the Prime Minister's
ability to govern. Khanh soon chimed in with his own public criticism, censuring Huong's response to the Buddhist revolts and hinting that "a more
definite settlement is needed."40
The AFC imposed that settlement. On January 27, the Young Turks deposed Tran Van Huong's government, citing its inability "to cope with the
present critical situation," and immediately petitioned Khanh to solve the
crisis.41
General Khanh stood to reclaim the power he had relinquished but never
stopped coveting. Yet his past pledges of loyalty to civilian rule now prevented Khanh, ironically, from assuming direct control. He therefore engineered the appointment of a figurehead premier, Nguyen Xuan Oanh, to
serve both as his personal instrument in the government and as a buffer
between himself and Ambassador Taylor.
Khanh's latest escapade, however predictable, threw U.S. policymakers into
turmoil. One of the policymakers, John McNaughton, rushed to the Pentagon the morning after Khanh's coup to assess its implications with his boss,
Secretary of Defense McNamara.
McNaughton arrived shortly before eight. He found McNamara already
at his desk. Voicing a common frustration throughout Washington, Me-
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59
even bolder action. For these men were determined to do somethinganythingto arrest South Vietnam's failure, including abandoning the objective
of stability before escalation. They therefore urged LBJ to change "policy
and priorities"to seek stability through escalation.
Theirs was a fateful departure, and Bundy knew it. "Both of us understand the very grave questions presented by any decision of this sort," he
wrote the President. "We both recogni/e," he added, "that the ultimate
responsibility is not ours." But convinced the present course spelled certain
defeat, he and McNamara felt "the time has come for harder choices."
Bundy admitted Rusk did not share their judgment. Rusk did not deny
"that things are going very badly [or] that the situation is unraveling."
"What he does say," Bundy told Johnson, "is that the consequences of both
escalation and withdrawal are so bad that we must simply find a way of
making our present policy work." "This would be good if it was possible,"
Bundy said. "Bob and I do not think it is."48
This memo marked Bundy's and McNamara's desperate response to desperate circumstances. Their colleague, George Ball, spelled out well the two
men's thinking. "There had been a whole sordid series of coups, a feeling
that the whole political fabric of South Vietnam was beginning to disintegrate, and that we had to do something . . . if we were going to keep this
damned thing from falling apart," Ball later said, explaining Bundy's and
McNamara's logic. "It [would be] a great bucker-upper for South Vietnam."*4
Their logic prevailed. During a meeting with Bundy and McNamara that
afternoon, Johnson agreed to prepare for action. "Stable government or no
stable government," LBJ conceded, "we'll do what we have to dowe will
move strongly. I'm prepared to do that," he at last declared.45
At this same meeting, the President decided to send McGeorge Bundy to
South Vietnam to discuss planning for bombing operations with Ambassador
Taylor and General Westmoreland. Before leaving for Saigon, Bundy cabled
Taylor about the purpose of his upcoming visit. He wrote:
The . . . central aspect of [the] current situation is the present and future
prospect for "stable government." Present directives make such a government
an essential prerequisite for important additional U.S. . . . action, but we now
wonder whether this requirement is either realistic or necessary. If not, then
we need to consider what actions are possible both within SVN and against
the North while [the] GVN lacks [this] desired stability.4
Washington had clearly lost hope of achieving political cohesion in Saigon. Now it would seek that cohesion through escalation, in the belief that
bombing the North would somehow resuscitate the South.
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62
As McNaughton finished drafting his bombing plan at the American embassy in Saigon, Vietcong guerrillas 240 miles north in Pleiku prepared for
attacks which seemed almost tailored to McNaughton's scenario.
Pleiku, a traditional marketing center for Montagnard tribesmen, lay in a
key area near the Laotian and Cambodian borders, where communist infiltration trails fanned out into South Vietnam's central highlands. These
densely forested jungle paths, though barely forty miles from Pleiku, contrasted vividly with the gently rolling hills, dotted with trees, that marked
the site of ARVN's II Corps headquarters and Camp Holloway, an American airbase two miles away.
At two o'clock on the morning of February 7, the Vietcong launched
simultaneous attacks against both targets. Loaded down with explosive
packets, VC guerrillas cut through ARVN headquarter's barbed-wire perimeter and silently crawled up a low hill toward the U.S. advisers' single-story
barracks. Within moments, the compound exploded in a hail of dynamite
charges.
At almost the same instance, mortar shells rained down on nearby Camp
Holloway. Under cover of the shelling, guerrillas crossed a large clearing
and bombarded the airfield with grenade launchers and demolition satchels.
The twin assaults killed eight American soldiers, wounded over a hundred
others, and destroyed ten U.S. aircraft.
The probable motives behind these attacks were as complex as the circumstances in which they occurred. Three days before, as the Bundy Mission
had arrived in Saigon, a Soviet delegation headed by Premier Kosygin had
left Moscow for Hanoi. The likely purpose of Kosygin's visit was to rebuild
the Soviet Union's influence in North Vietnam, which had withered under
Khrushchev. The Kremlin could thus bolster its position in Hanoi vis-a-vis
the Chinese, while discouraging the United States from broadening the war.
The Soviets probably also wished to forestall North Vietnamese actions
which would provoke American reprisals, thereby raising the stakes in a
war Russia wished to keep limited.
Hanoi, for its part, may have wished to offset its uneasy reliance on
Peking by involving Moscow more deeply. By staging an attack likely to
prompt a U.S. response, as at Pleiku, North Vietnam could put its Russian
guest on the spot, making it difficult, if not impossible, for Kosygin to deny
additional military assistance, including jet fighters and advanced surfaceto-air missiles.
The Vietcong, on the other hand, may have feared that Hanoi, at Kosygin's urging, would negotiate a settlement with Washington at their expense.
The VC could discourage such a settlement by launching an assault against
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64
doubts about the wisdom of escalation, agreed that "action must be taken."
Sitting before the President, Ball's personal skepticism weakened. Rather
than express his private reservations about air strikes, Ball concentrated
instead on how to "handle" them "publicly." "We must make clear that the
North Vietnamese and the Viet Cong are the same," he said. "We retaliate
against North Vietnam," Ball suggested, "because Hanoi directs the Viet
Cong, supplies arms, and infiltrates men."
If Ball's comments sounded out of tune with what he had argued privately
with Rusk, McNamara, and Bundy, they harmonized perfectly with Johnson's current thinking. The President's mind seemed settled, and Ball hesitated to challenge it.6
Ball read Johnson correctly. The President had, indeed, said Ball, "decided to make the air strikes." "We have kept our gun over the mantel and
our shells in the cupboard for a long time now," LBJ snorted, angrily recalling his restraint following the Bienhoa and Brink attacks. "And what
was the result?" he fumed. "They are killing our boys while they sleep in
the night." Johnson had had enough; he was prepared to move.
The President spoke with a forcefulness that silenced most of those present. But not Mike Mansfield. Unlike Ball, who hesitated to confront this
domineering man, Mansfield challenged him directly. Looking straight at
Johnson across the Cabinet table, Mansfield cautioned him to re-examine
his decision. Even if the North Vietnamese directed the attack, he said, it
should have "opened many eyes." "[Tjhe local populous in South Vietnam
is not behind us," Mansfield labored to note, or "else the Viet Cong could
not have carried out their surprise attack." He urged the President to weigh
this fact carefully, because a reprisal strike meant that America would no
longer be "in a penny ante game."
Johnson was not in a reflective mood. He heard Mansfield out, and then
brusquely ordered a reprisal strike.7
Four hours later, U.S. bombers roared off Navy carriers steaming in the
Tonkin Gulf and struck military barracks and storage facilities at Donghoi,
fifty miles north of the DMZ. This operation, code-named FLAMING
DART, marked the first American air strike against North Vietnam since
the previous August.
Several hours after the reprisal attackit was now Sunday morning, Washington timePresident Johnson summoned his advisers and congressional
leaders to assess its results.8
Mike Mansfield had left the previous day's session feeling uneasy. He had
watched LBJ, who felt personally challenged by the communist attack, react
angrily, abruptly ordering a U.S. reprisal with little thought about its consequences. Mansfield wanted to temper Johnson's anger before he plunged
65
America irrevocably into war. The senator therefore urged LBJ to pursue a
diplomatic solution to the crisis. "I would negotiate. I would not hit back.
I would get into negotiations," the senator cautioned Johnson.
"I just don't think you can stand still and take this kind of thing," LBJ
snapped, still smarting from the Pleiku attack, "you just can't do it."
The U.S. reprisal for the Pleiku attack had been only partly successful.
All but one of the four planned targets had been weathered in. Should
planes return to bomb the other three, as Ambassador Taylor now recommended?
McNamara said no, as did Ball, who spoke up with a boldness he lacked
the evening before. Ball had been willing to go along quietly with a single
reprisal, but the idea of a second strike, which might signal the beginning of
a sustained offensive, prompted his objection. "Secretary McNamara is right
in recommending that we should not hit today the three targets not hit
yesterday," Ball observed, "If we do so, the Communists will get a wrong
signal and think that we are launching an offensive . . . rather than merely
retaliatory strikes to attacks by the North Vietnamese and the Viet Cong."
Ambassador Thompson also opposed a second strike. "We have completed
our reprisal action for the North Vietnamese surprise attack," he said. "Another attack cannot be called reprisal." Unless Johnson intended to embark
on a radically new course, Thompson believed, "[n]o additional air strikes
should be made now."
House Minority Leader Gerald Ford failed to perceive Ball's and Thompson's distinction. "Why should we only hit one out of four targets?" he
asked. "If the plan to strike four was good, why should we not complete it?"
The President's answer to Ford reflected his continued reluctance to take
the big step. A single reprisal was one thing, he told Ford; systematic bombing was quite another. Johnson said he would give "consideration to Taylor's
recommendation," but for the time being, he ordered no further strikes.
LBJ still hesitated to commit himself.9
About eleven o'clock that night, McGeorge Bundy arrived back in Washington with a report aimed to hasten LBJ's decision. The report, which
Bundy had outlined before the Pleiku attack and finished during his long
flight back to the United States, urged the immediate and systematic bombing of North Vietnam.
Bundy took his report to the White House, where he delivered it personally to Johnson. LBJ stayed up late that night studying Bundy's report.
What he read must have troubled him deeply. "The situation in Vietnam is
deteriorating," Bundy opened, "and without new U.S. action defeat appears
inevitable. . . ." South Vietnam seemed on the verge of collapse. The Viet-
66
cong had extended their control over the countryside, while the government's pacification program continued to flounder. Bundy believed this
trend, if not checked, would surely lead to "Communist domination."
Although the South Vietnamese did not find the prospect of communist
domination "attractive," Bundy sensed little determination on their part to
prevent it. Instead, he described a "worrisome lassitude" and "distressing
absence of positive commitment to any serious social or political purpose"
among the Vietnamese people.
South Vietnam's problems were especially grave, Bundy argued, because of
the American interests intertwined with them. He defined those interests to
Johnson in graphic and expansive terms:
The stakes in Vietnam are extremely high. The American investment
large, and American responsibility is a fact of life which is palpable
atmosphere of Asia, and even elsewhere. The international prestige
United States, and a substantial part of our influence, are directly at
Vietnam.
is very
in the
of the
risk in
Given this view of the stakes, it was not surprising that Bundy dismissed the
idea of a negotiated withdrawal, which he derided as "surrender on the
installment plan."
Bundy wanted Johnson to halt South Vietnam's decline, not to extricate
the United States from it. A policy of "graduated and continuing reprisal"
against North Vietnam seemed "the most promising" way to do this, he
suggested.
Bundy explained his objective. "Action against the North," he noted, "is
usually urged as a means of affecting the will of Hanoi to direct and support
the VC." That was not Bundy's purpose. "[O]ur primary target," he stressed,
"is the improvement of the situation in South Vietnam."
Bundy argued that bombing Hanoi would stiffen Saigon politically.
Sustained attacks against the North would produce "a sharp immediate
increase in optimism in the South," thereby increasing "the readiness of
Vietnamese factions . . . to join together in forming a more effective government."
Bundy considered this urgent because the present government, in his
words, had been reduced to "caretaker" status. His description of the current
Saigon regime was shocking. It "can execute military decisions and . . .
give formal political support to joint US/GVN policy," Bundy wrote Johnson. "That is about all it can do," he added.
South Vietnam's political situation demanded quick treatment, and the
Pleiku attacks offered a good occasion to begin that treatment. "These
attacks and our reaction to them," suggested Bundy, "have created an ideal
opportunity for the prompt . . . execution of sustained reprisals."
67
Bundy then outlined the proposed transitionhow LBJ could stretch the
day's single strike against Donghoi into a systematic bombing campaign
against North Vietnam. Initially, he proposed relating "our reprisals to those
acts of relatively high visibility such as the Pleiku incident." Laterafter
reprisals were "under way"Bundy felt it would "not be necessary to connect each specific act against North Vietnam to a particular outrage in the
South." Having established a "generalized pattern of reprisal" in response
to "specific atrocities," Johnson could move quietly into sustained bombing.
Bundy hoped this plan would produce results in South Vietnam; he knew
it involved costs to the United States. A bombing program, he wrote the
President,
implies significant U.S. air losses even if no full air war is joined, and it seems
likely that it would eventually require an extensive and costly effort against the
whole air defense system of North Vietnam. U.S. casualties would be higher
and more visible to American feelingsthan those sustained in the struggle in
South Vietnam.
Bundy counseled Johnson to accept these costs, even if he could not assure
him that bombing would change the course of the war. Why? Because
Bundy considered bombing an essential defense against potential conservative criticism. Even if the bombing "fails," Bundy told the President, "the
policy will be worth it." "At a minimum," he reminded Johnson, "it will
damp down the charge that we did not do all that we could have done, and
this charge will be important in many countries, including our own." Here,
in different language, was the President's own concern. Bombing, despite all
its limitations, would offer protection against conservative attacks in the
wake of a South Vietnamese collapsewhich seemed frighteningly possible
at that moment.
Bundy had argued his position skillfully. He sensed that Johnson's reluctance to deepen America's involvement in Vietnam related to Vietnam's
potential impact on the Great Society. Therefore, Bundy reduced the case
for sustained bombing to its political essentials, which he knew would
resonate in LBJ's mind.
If Bundy understood Johnson's reluctance and how to exploit it, he also
recognized Johnson's furtiveness and wished to dispel it. For this reason,
Bundy ended his report with a delicate plea for Presidential frankness. "At
its very best the struggle in Vietnam will be long," he wrote. Therefore,
"[i]t seems . . . important," he concluded, "that this fundamental fact . . .
and our understanding of it be made clear to our own people. . . ." Bundy
had urged Johnson to escalate, but had also urged him to admit, publicly
and forthrightly, the costs of escalation.10
Bundy's plea, especially his political calculations, struck home with LBJ.
68
As he said later of the report, "I was impressed by its logic and persuaded
strongly by its arguments." Johnson's fears about the international and particularly the domestic repercussions of losing South Vietnam had overcome
his reservations about the wisdom of escalation against North Vietnam.11
Having accepted, at last, the idea of sustained bombing which he had resisted for months, LBJ convened a meeting with his top advisers and congressional leaders at 10:30 the next morning.12
Johnson opened the meeting by summarizing his current thinking. LBJ
said he had approved a "program" of "further pressure" against North Vietnam last December, but had delayed implementing it in the hope that Ambassador Taylor could secure a stable government in South Vietnam. Taylor
had failed; the political situation in Saigon had not improved.
The President said he was now ready to adopt the December "program."
But rather than describe the bombing as Bundy's report had explained it
an "extensive and costly" expansion of the war entailing "higher" and
"more visible" American casualtiesJohnson characterized it as an effort to
defeat North Vietnamese aggression "without escalating the war" (emphasis
added). LBJ had revealed his bombing decision, while carefully concealing
its dimensions.
LBJ then asked McGeorge Bundy to outline the report which had
prompted his decision. Taking his lead from the President, Bundy summarized his report in vague and general termsso vague, in fact, that Representative Ford was uncertain what Bundy had recommended. Was it the
December program? he asked Bundy. Johnson quickly interrupted. Sidestepping Ford's question about the nature of Bundy's recommendation, the
President emphasized the support for it within the administration. All members of the country team, as well as his top advisers, backed the recommendation, Johnson declared, again without revealing its full dimensions.
The Minority Leader kept pressing, however. Did this "program" require
"additional U.S. personnel and . . . financial assistance?" Ford asked. Here
was the kind of question LBJ dreadeda question about more guns for
Vietnam, which meant less butter for his Great Society. Johnson swiftly
assured the House Republican Leader that his "program" required no additional expenditures. If he needed more resources in the future, the President
added, he would request them from Congress.
Johnson's comments still baffled Ford. What did the President intend to
do, he again asked, just react to future Vietcong provocations? LBJ responded vaguely. All VC attacks did call for a "response," the President
replied, but he did not intend to limit his actions to retaliating against VC
attacks. Artfully, Johnson had implied a policy of sustained bombing without explicitly stating it.
Senator Dirksen then asked what would happen if the United States
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70
ington time to plan its strikes, while also avoiding any affront to the Soviet
leader."
But the Vietcong did not give Johnson the time he wanted. On the evening of February 10, VC guerrillas bombed a U.S. army billet at Quinhon,
eighty miles east of Pleiku along the central South Vietnamese coast, killing
twenty-three Americans and wounding twenty-one others.
When LBJ received word of the Quinhon attack, he called the NSC into
session once more.15
McNamara, speaking for himself and the Joint Chiefs, urged the President to begin sustained bombing immediately. The Pentagon had already
prepared a target list, he noted, and the VC attack justified implementing
it right away.
Quinhon had increased the pressure on Johnson to launch the bombing
he had wished to postpone for several days. It had not, however, lessened
LBJ's determination to conceal his basic decision. Johnson warned those
seated around the Cabinet table to keep quiet about any change in policy.
LBJ wanted no disclosures to the press, he cautioned. Johnson would hold
department heads responsible for any leaks from their subordinates, he
pointedly added.
LBJ then probed his advisers about the bombing. Should we proceed? he
asked, still leery about making the fateful commitment. Vice President Humphrey suggested postponing the bombing until Kosygin, soon heading for
North Korea, had left the Far East. Ambassador Thompson, the Soviet expert at the meeting, also urged delay, warning Moscow might interpret the
bombing as a deliberate effort to humiliate Russia. Thompson, like Humphrey, had criticized the timing of the bombing, not the bombing itself.
Johnson had apparently decided that issue, and neither seemed eager to
challenge it.
Discussion then shifted to public disclosure. LBJ claimed the White
House had gone into "great detail" about the Donghoi raid, but he did not
think it "necessary" following another one. Press statements should be limited to a "generalized description" of U.S. action, Johnson insisted. LBJ remained determined to obscure the escalation.
Finally, at the end of the meeting, Johnson approved the recommended
strike plan.16
Less than twelve hours later, American and South Vietnamese bombers
struck military barracks and storage facilities near Chaple and Chanhhoa,
North Vietnam. This attackthe second in four daysmarked the end of
reprisals and the beginning of a systematic bombing campaign.
LBJ had crossed the divide, committing American forces directly to the
war. Yet Johnson's White House barely hinted at this fundamental shift in
its statement to the press. On February 7, the administration had explained
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72
satisfactory political solution" became possible. If Ball could not block the
bombing, he hoped to divert it, toward achieving a negotiated withdrawal
from South Vietnam.
Ball also challenged McNamara and Bundy by stressing bombing's potential dangers. He emphasized several risks, particularly the likelihood of
North Vietnamese retaliation. Ball believed bombing might prompt Hanoi
to send as many as 125,000 troops down the Ho Chi Minh Trail and across
the DMZ into South Vietnam. Such action "would clearly require substantial
increases of US ground, air and naval forces," he warned.
More ominous was the threat of Chinese intervention. Mounting air attacks, Ball noted, might trigger "direct engagement of Chinese planes operating from the sanctuary of Chinese territory." This, in turn, would generate
enormous pressure to "knock out" the Chinese air bases. Peking might up
the ante even further, moving "massive ground forces" into Southeast Asia.
Washington would then face an agonizing prospect: committing "five to
eight divisions with a total troop strength . . . of 300,000 men" or even
resorting to atomic weapons, thus raising "the most profound political
problems."
Ball emphasized these risks because he believed bombing's effectiveness
had been exaggerated. Ball doubted North Vietnam would submit easily:
[Sjhort of a crushing military defeat . . . Hanoi would never abandon the
aggressive course it has pursued at great cost for ten years and give up all the
progress it has made in the Communization of South Viet-Nam. For North
Viet-Nam to call off the insurgency in South Viet-Nam, close the border, and
withdraw the elements it has infiltrated into that country would mean that it
had accepted unconditional surrender.
Vanquishing Hanoi would require a massive bombing effortone that entailed substantial risk of nuclear war with China. Ball did not believe Johnson wished to accept such a risk.
Ball had urged LBJ to limit his risks but not to avoid them entirely. He
had stressed the hazards of bombing, without opposing the policy itself. Ball
still hesitated to challenge Johnson's decision directly.20
Ball met with LBJ on February 13 to discuss his memorandum. Johnson
took the memo, skimmed it quickly, and then asked Ball to summarize it.
Ball reviewed each point. The President listened impatiently. He had his
own concerns about escalation. He, too, harbored doubts about the bombing. But he had made his decision, and nothing Ball said had changed it.
Later that afternoon, Johnson approved a program of continuing air
strikes against various targets in southern North Vietnam. It fell to Acting
Secretary of State Ball, ironically, to report LBJ's decision to Ambassador
Taylor in Saigon. Ball cabled Taylor that the attacks, scheduled to begin
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"as early as possible," would occur "about once or twice a week and involve
two or three targets on each day of operation."
Although this plan represented a fundamental shift in American involvementfrom advisory assistance to direct participation in the warJohnson
remained determined to obscure the transition. The President would not
go to Congress. He would not address the people. Instead, Ball informed
Taylor, Johnson planned to reveal the bombing, "in general terms," through
a press statement. LBJ was tiptoeing to war in Vietnam.21
Johnson seemed ready, at last, to move against Hanoi. He had approved a
program of continuing air strikes, and a time frame within which they
would begin. After much hesitation, LBJ had finally committed himself to
the bombing. But just as Johnson prepared to act, he received a memo from
Vice President Humphrey which shook his resolve. Humphrey's memo,
analyzing the domestic repercussions of escalation, upset the determination
of a President concerned, above all else, with Vietnam's impact on the
Great Society.
Hubert Humphrey occupied a difficult position in Lyndon Johnson's administration. The Vice President was an experienced politician of independent convictions, who owed his present office to one man: LBJ. He was an
ardent liberal, committed to domestic reform, in an administration increasingly absorbed with the problem of Vietnam.
Johnson viewed Humphrey much as Kennedy had viewed hima valuable
asset in dealing with Congress on domestic issues, not a trusted adviser on
foreign policy. Humphrey knew the Hill well and could help guide the
President's Great Society measures through its chambers. He knew little,
however, about decision-making on Vietnam.
The NSC meeting on February 10 had changed that. Humphrey had listened as Johnson, McNamara, and Bundy discussed bombing in familiar
termsdebating not its merits, only its implementation. Humphrey had
raised doubts which LBJ had brushed aside. Whatever his qualms about
escalation, Johnson seemed unconcerned with Humphrey's opinion; after
all, he was no expert on foreign affairs.
But the Vice President was an expert on American politics and shared
LBJ's devotion to the Great Society. Therefore, when Humphrey sent Johnson a memo on February 15 warning him about the bombing's dangers to
the Great Society, LBJ took notice.
Humphrey realized that Johnson was on the threshold of major escalation,
and wanted to prevent it. He reminded LBJ of the recent presidential campaign. Goldwater, he wrote, had "stressed the Vietnam issue, advocated escalation, and stood for a military 'solution.'" "By contrast we stressed steadiness, staying the course, not enlarging the war. . . . " The voters had voiced
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The American people had not elected Johnson for his military zeal. Goldwater had offered that. Humphrey emphasized LBJ's very different qualities
his "political ingenuity," his ability to fashion "political solutions"and
appealed to them. "People will be counting" on Johnson, Humphrey said,
"to use on the world scene his unrivaled talents as a politician."
If LBJ failed to exploit his particular strength and embraced escalation
instead, Humphrey predicted political opposition "from new and different
sources" would "steadily mount." Liberals, independents, and labornot
right-wing successors of McCarthywould abandon the President and sunder
the Democratic coalition essential to passage of his Great Society.22
Humphrey's warnings shook Johnson, challenging his most basic political
assumptions. LBJ had always discounted liberal pressures, fearing conservative ones far more deeply. "If he had a problem," a White House official
remembered him saying, "it was the hawks, not the doves, whom he dismissed as a band of 'rattlebrains.' " "I am far more afraid of the right wing
than I am of the left wing," Johnson had said to another. Yet Humphrey
had suggested a new and frightening possibility: escalation in Vietnam
risked alienating the very core of LBJ's political strength and therefore his
political effectiveness.23
Haunted by this prospect, Johnson began wavering on his bombing decision. In a meeting with McNamara and Bundy later on February 15, LBJ
suggested the idea of launching strict reprisals in response to attacks on
U.S. installations rather than a systematic bombing campaign. The President seemed to be pulling back, fearing the political consequences of escalation.
McGeorge Bundy, lacking Johnson's unique political concerns, perceived
LBJ's vacillation quite differently. To him, it seemed a troublesome retreat
from a previously approved policy. Bundy endeavored to stiffen his boss's
resolve.
The following day, Tuesday, February 16, Bundy sent Johnson a memo
urging LBJ to confirm his bombing decision. He carefully prodded the
President, citing a "deep-seated need" within the bureaucracy "for assurance
that the decision has in fact been taken."24
Bundy acknowledged the weight of Johnson's move, noting its implications:
[Tjhose of us who favor continuing military action against the North do see it
as a major watershed decision. However much it is based on continuing aggression in the South (as it should be), it amounts to a U.S. decision to mount
continuing pressure against Hanoi by use of our air and naval superiority. This
is not the same, in operational terms, as what we did last August. And it is not
the same as a policy of episodic retaliation for particular attacks against large
numbers of Americans. It is very different indeed. . . .
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Johnson to avoid for the moment. Once LBJ initiated bombing, Ike believed
America's position would be strengthened. Only then, he felt, should Johnson start to bargain.
LBJ then mentioned the Tonkin Gulf Resolution. Johnson asked Eisenhower if he considered the resolution sufficient to cover the impending action. Ike compared it favorably to the Formosa Resolution of 1955, which
had granted him wide discretion in defending Taiwan against attack from
mainland China. LBJ said he had used the Formosa Resolution as his model.
Eisenhower ended his discussion with Johnson by emphasizing the importance of Washington's commitment to South Vietnam. The United States
had "put its prestige onto the proposition of keeping Southeast Asia free,"
Ike said, referring to his own 1954 pledge to Diem. "We cannot let the Indochinese peninsula go," he cautioned. Someone at the table, probably General
Wheeler, suggested it might take six to eight American divisions to prevent
that. Ike hoped they would not be needed. But if they were, then "so be it,"
he said.
Eisenhower's message was clear: save South Vietnam, whatever the costs.
Gone was the hesitation that Ike had displayed at the time of Dienbienphu.
No longer on the hot seat himself, Eisenhower had dispensed hawkish advice
freely to Johnson. He had roundly endorsed the bombing, suggested brinkmanship with China, if necessary, and recommended ground escalation as
a last resort. Eisenhower's strong judgments overpowered LBJ's lingering
doubts.30
At an NSC meeting the next day, President Johnson formally set February
20 as the launching date for regular bombing strikes against North Vietnam.
After weeks of doubt and delay, LBJ seemed resigned to act. As he told those
gathered around him in the Cabinet Room, "I don't want to bomb those
places, I really don't, but I don't see any other way."
Still, Johnson hesitated to reveal this escalatory step. During the meeting,
Johnson rejected McGeorge Bundy's advice to announce his bombing decision to the American public and the U.N. Security Council. Instead, as a
State Department telegram to Far Eastern embassies that night reported, the
President wanted the "focus of public attention [to] be kept as far as possible on DRV aggression; not on joint GVN/US military operations." "There
will be no comment of any sort on future actions," the cable stressed.31
LBJ was ready to go North, even if he was not ready to admit it publicly.
After nearly two weeks of agonizing indecisionfirst authorizing the bombing, then stepping back from itJohnson had approved a specific date for
beginning air attacks. But just as Washington prepared to implement the
President's long-awaited decision, Saigon's political situation erupted once
again, forcing a postponement. The instability in South Vietnam which had
sparked the calls for bombing now worked, ironically, to delay it,
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Nguyen Khanh's time was running out. The general's hold over the difficult
reins of South Vietnamese power, which he had controlledeither directly
or indirectlyfor more than a year, had steadily weakened. Throughout the
fall of 1964 and into 1965, Khanh had relied increasingly on the Young
Turks within the military to preserve his position. They had squelched
Phat's and Due's coup against him in September, supported his dissolution
of the High National Council in December, and backed his ouster of Huong
in January. But at each stage, Khanh's dependence on the Young Turks had
deepened. The source of his strength had gradually become the source of his
greatest potential opposition. The Young Turks readily acknowledged their
opportunistic arrangement with Khanh. "Each side is using the other," one
Young Turk admitted to reporters in January. "Later we shall see who
wins."32
Khanh's troubles with Taylor increased the Young Turks' likelihood of
success. The more Khanh undermined government stability, the more he
angered Ambassador Taylor and diminished his support among Americans.
This allowed the Young Turks of the Armed Forces Councilwho rivaled
Khanh in ambitionto position themselves as an alternative.
By early February, the Young Turks had resolved to prevent Khanh
from recapturing direct authority. After forcing Huong's removal, Khanh
had selected Oanh as Huong's temporary successor, whom the general intended to use as his personal instrument until he himself could reclaim
power. But the Young Turks foiled this scheme. On February 16, the Armed
Forces Council secured Phan Huy Quat's appointment as Prime Minister.
Phan Huy Quat was no puppet of Khanh. A native North Vietnamese
Buddhist, Quat had built a record of personal integrity and independence
while serving a succession of Vietnamese regimes. He was an anomaly in the
bare-knuckled politics of Saigon. Combining "long experience in government with intelligence, determination, and decency," in the accurate words
of his chief of staff, Bui Diem, Quat "was as stable and competent as Nguyen
Khanh had been mercurial and deficient."33
Though trained as a physician, the quiet and unassuming Quat had devoted most of his energies to politics. As a founder and leading theorist of
the nationalist Dai Viet party, he had opposed Japanese occupation, reimposition of French colonialism, and Ho Chi Minh's communism. At Bao
Dai's urging, Quat had accepted the post of Education and then Defense
Minister in the early 1950s, attempting to strengthen the government's separation from France and its support among the people. His relations with
Diem, however, had been strained. In April 1960, Quat had signed the
Caravelle Manifestopetitioning Diem for reformswhich had soon landed
him in jail. Shortly after Diem's assassination, Khanh had appointed him
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had distrusted this slippery figure always at the center of the latest political
intrigueeven if they did not suspect his association with the Vietcong;
shortly after Diem's assassination, the junta had shipped off Thao to the
United States for military training at Fort Leavenworth. By 1964, Thao was
in Washington working for Ambassador Khiem, who had lost his power
struggle with Khanh.
At the end of December, Khanh had ordered Thao back to Saigon. He
had gotten word of Thao's and Khiem's intrigue, and intended to quash it
by arresting Thao upon his return. Thao had slipped back into South Vietnam but had eluded Khanh and begun preparing the coup against him.
In mid-February, as Thao readied to strike against Khanh, he contacted
Air Vice-Marshal Ky. Thao sensed the growing division between the general
and his Young Turks, and decided to probe their reaction to his impending
coup. From a phone booth in Saigon, Thao called Ky.
"Ky, listen to me," Thao said. "Khanh is screwing things up royally."
"I'm going to get rid of the son of a bitch," he snapped, and "I want to
know what your position is on it."
Ky, already hatching his own plans, promised nothing. "Khanh's treated
me well," he replied. "Between you and him I'm neutral," Ky added, with
an air of seeming detachment. If Thao did not have the Young Turks' support, he also did not face their active oppositionor so Ky had led him to
believe.87
With the Armed Forces Council apparently neutralized, Thao moved
against Khanh. On the afternoon of February 19, Thao and his confederate,
General Lam Van Phat, marched forces into Saigon, capturing the government radio station and ARVN headquarters. Khanh narrowly escaped capture, first by quietly slipping out an unarmed side gate at military headquarters, then hastily departing Tansonhut airport just as Phat's tanks
rolled on to the runway.
Meanwhile, Air Vice-Marshal Ky, who had pledged his neutrality to
Thao, began rallying forces against the rebels. From Bienhoa airbase north
of Saigon, Ky dispatched several planes to bomb Phat's dissident troops at
Tansonhut and elsewhere throughout the city. General Westmoreland
stopped Ky at the last moment by reminding him that Tansonhut also
housed over six thousand U.S. military forces.
At this point, Westmoreland and Ambassador Taylor intervened to engineer a compromise. Fearing Thao planned to remove not just Khanh but
also Quat's civilian government, Taylor and Westmoreland sought a solution ending both the coup and Khanh's interference in politics.
Working through Ky's U.S. liaison officer, Brigadier General Robert
Rowland, Taylor and Westmoreland arranged a meeting between Ky and
the coup leaders at Bienhoa that evening. Thao and Phat arrived under
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Rowland's protection. Later that night, Ky and other Young Turks of the
Armed Forces Council agreed to remove Khanh, if Thao and Phat withdrew
their forces. The coup plotters agreed. Early on the morning of February 20,
government troops entered Saigon, and Thao's and Phat's forces disbanded.
The Armed Forces Council now moved to oust Khanh, apparently fulfilling its bargain with Thao and Phat. In fact, this "bargain" allowed the
Young Turks to implement their own, well-prepared scheme against Khanh.
Saigon had indeed become, as one observer noted, "the capital of the double
cross."38
Ky and the other Young Turks had learned the art of intrigue well; they
had studied under a master. They had supported Khanh's return to de facto
power in late January, hoping to place him in an exposed position from
which he could be toppled when an opportune moment arose.
But Khanh, sensing the Young Turks' growing restiveness, added his own
Machiavellian twist to this intricate drama of betrayal: he opened contact
with the National Liberation Front (NLF), the political arm of the Vietcong. With his support among army officers waning, Khanh began looking
toward an accommodation with the NLFwith himself, of course, as the
head of a new South Vietnamese government.
Khanh prepared the way by releasing the wife of Huynh Tan Phat, a
prominent communist member of the NLF, from jail in mid-January 1965.
Shortly thereafter, Khanh sent Phat a letter offering to cut a deal. Phat expressed great interest in the general's proposal, replying that he and the
NLF eagerly wished to extend Khanh their "friendly cooperation."39
Khanh's cleverness had finally outrun his ambition. By approaching the
NLF, Khanh gave the Young Turks the excuse they needed to secure U.S.
assent to his removal. In light of Khanh's past schemes, the Young Turks'
warning of a more reckless one in the future convinced Taylor that Khanh
must go.40
With the Americans' hearty blessing, the Young Turks voted out Khanh
as chairman of the Armed Forces Council on the morning of February 20.
The secretary of the AFC telephoned Khanh, who was now at his Vungtau
retreat southeast of Saigon, busily counterplotting a last-ditch coup against
his former prote'ge's. When informed of the Council's decision, the general
exploded, refusing to step down.
The AFC turned to the Americans to provide the necessary persuasion.
Westmoreland sent Colonel Jasper Wilson, Khanh's old U.S. Army adviser,
to Vungtau the following night. Wilson explained the situation. Khanh had
lost the support of the army, the government, and the United Stateshe was
through. To hasten Khanh's cooperation, Wilson promised him a face-saving
exit from South Vietnam. After soliciting assurances from Prime Minister
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Quat that his travel "expenses" would be amply covered, the general relinquished. Khanh's scheming had finally ended.
On February 25, Vietnamese and American dignitaries gathered at Tansonhut to see Khanh off as Saigon's "roving ambassador." Among those lining
the tarmac was Maxwell Taylor. As Khanh approached the airplane ramp,
Taylor offered him a frosty farewell, which barely disguised the Ambassador's relief at his nemesis's departure. Privately describing the scene soon
after, Taylor wrote, " 'Stinker No. 1' ... wasfinallyput into orbit. . . ."41
The political crisis which led to the exit of General Khanh also led to the
postponement of President Johnson's bombing decision. Ambassador Taylor
had been notified of LBJ's decision just four hours before Thao and Phat
launched their abortive coup on February 19; later that same day, he cabled
the State Department urging a postponement of the air strikes slated to
begin on February 20. Washington immediately accepted Taylor's recommendation.42
Frustrated by Saigon's latest squabble, and its delaying effect on the bombing, Taylor waited impatiently as the Young Turks checked first Thao and
Phat, and then Khanh. Within hours of the Young Turks' final triumph in
the early morning of February 21, the Ambassador telegraphed Washington,
urging a commencement of air strikes the following day.
Secretary Rusk rejected Taylor's proposal. He agreed the bombing should
begin as soon as possible, but only after the situation in Saigon had stabilized. Rusk hoped that would not take longperhaps just a day or twobut
until then, Taylor would have to wait.43
Satisfying Taylor meant reconvincing the President. The struggle among
Thao and Phat and the Young Turks and Khanh had reawakened Johnson's
abiding frustration with South Vietnam, and with it, his suspicions about
escalation. "We've got a bear by the tail," LBJ moaned to friends after hearing news of Saigon's latest shenanigans, and he wasn't sure how to handle
the bear.44
Johnson seemed racked, once again, by indecision. He had approved the
air strikes after much hesitation, only to be confronted by more political
upheaval in South Vietnam. Would LBJ reschedule the bombing?
At this crucial moment, Dean Rusk sent Johnson an important memo.
Rusk rarely wrote the President, preferring to speak privately with him. But
knowing Johnson faced renewedand momentouschoices, Rusk felt it
"desireable and timely . . . to put down an outline of my own thinking
about . . . South Viet Nam."
Rusk's thinking was certain: LBJ had to do whatever was necessary to
avert South Vietnam's collapse. "I am convinced," he wrote the President,
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"that it would be disastrous for the United States and the free world to permit Southeast Asia to be overrun by the Communist North." "I am also convinced," he added, "that everything possible should be done to throw back
the Hanoi-Viet Cong aggression"even at "the risk of major escalation. . . ."
Rusk's faith in America's commitment did not mean faith in South Vietnam's political future. In fact, Saigon's endless turmoil troubled him just as
deeply as it troubled Johnson. Without the "elementary platform" of stable
government, Rusk sensed that "other efforts in the military and political
field are likely to prove fruitless." He explained in painful detail the consequences of South Vietnam's political instability:
Political confusion in Saigon (a) diverts military leaders away from their main
job of fighting the Viet Cong, (b) undermines the capacity of administration
throughout the country to take effective action in pacification and the nonmilitary measures required to organize the countryside, (c) undermines the
morale and sense of purpose of the American people, (d) frustrates our effort
to obtain increasing help from other free world countries to South Viet Nam,
(e) most important of all, convinces Hanoi and its communist allies that if
they persist in their present course of action, they have every prospect of victory, and, (f) finally, . . . makes it almost impossible to activate political processes which have the prospect of resulting in the security of South Viet Nam.
Rusk had analyzed Saigon's deficiencies with exceptional insight. But his
fear of the consequences to the United States should South Vietnam fall
blinded him to those insights. No matter how grave Saigon's shortcomings,
Rusk seemed unable to translate those shortcomings into compelling cause
for American disengagement. "Negotiation as a cover for the abandonment
of Southeast Asia to the Communist North cannot be accepted," he flatly
stated. The President had to maintain course; the bombing must proceed.45
Bolstered by Rusk's fervent defense of America's commitment, LBJ authorized a rescheduling of the bombing, to begin on February 26. The following day, Rusk cabled Taylor the news he had awaited.48
Throughout the month, Johnson had wavered back and forth on the
bombingapproving Bundy's recommendation of February 7; stepping back
from it after reading Humphrey's warnings on February 15; reconfirming
it on February 18 after Bundy's and Eisenhower's cajoling; demurring, yet
again, following the Thao-Phat-Khanh eruption of February 19-20. And
now, on February 24, LBJ committed himself once more. His continuing
fears about the repercussions of failure in South Vietnam had brought him
back to acceptance of bombing. These fears overrode whatever hesitation
Johnson still harbored about South Vietnam's instability. Nothing, it
seemed, could banish those fearsnot even a long and impassioned plea
against escalation which George Ball sent LBJ that afternoon.
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George Ball was a maverick on Vietnam. He perceived limitations in bombing among those who stressed its advantages, saw danger in continued involvement among those who feared withdrawal, and, most important, asked
why among those who largely asked how.
Ball's skepticism toward bombing derived from his experience as a director of the Strategic Bombing Survey at the end of World War II. Charged
with assessing the impact of Allied bombing on the German war effort, Ball
had been struck by its limited effect on civilian morale and industrial
production. If Germanya modern, industrialized nation with numerous
strategic targetshad endured heavy bombing and continued its military
production, how could the United States compel North Vietnaman underdeveloped, agrarian country with few strategic targetsto cease its support
of the Vietcong through human transport down hundreds of miles of jungle
trails?
Ball's earlier career had also sensitized him to the political frustrations of
Western involvement in Vietnam. Throughout the late 1940s and early
1950s, Ball had worked closely with the French government during its protracted ordeal in Indochina. He had witnessed the terrible disruptions unleashed by France's colonial adventure, dividing its people and poisoning its
politics for nearly a decade. Ball shuddered to see America incur similar
frustrations by going to war in Vietnam.
But he had watched Kennedy move in that direction, by increasing America's advisory presence. Ball was largely removed from these 1961-1963 decisions, concentrating his attention as Undersecretary of State on economic
and European affairs, where his interests and affections centered. Because of
his separation from Vietnam policymaking during the Kennedy years, Ball
could view the consequences of JFK's decisions with a detachment which
Rusk, McNamara, and Bundy, who had been more deeply involved, could not.
Ball's detachment encouraged him to question the basic assumptions governing America's commitment to South Vietnam as that country's deterioration quickened and the option of escalation gained currency in the new LBJ
administration. At the end of September 1964, he had begun work on a
memorandum challenging the conventional verities on Vietnam and the
wisdom of American military intervention. Recognizing the sensitivity of
this endeavor, Ball had proceeded cautiously. He had worked on his memo
away from the State Department, dictating most of it into a tape recorder at
home. For two weeks, Ball later recalled, "I'd get up at three or four in the
morning . . . go into [my] library . . . and dictate through the night."
Ball had completed his lengthy study in early October. Convinced he
"should never treat with the President on an ex parte basis," Ball had sent
copies to Rusk, McNamara, and McGeorge Bundy. The four had spent two
Saturday afternoons the following month discussing Ball's memorandum.
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His conclusions had rankled Rusk and Bundy; they had "absolutely horrified" McNamara. "He treated it like a poisonous snake," Ball remembered,
regarding it "as next to treason that this had been put down on paper."47
Chilled by his colleagues' reaction, Ball had hesitated to pass his memo
to President Johnson. Instead, he had chosen to wait. Ball explained this decision in his memoirs:
[T]he President was then engaged in his election campaign and was troubled
with a thousand problems. It did not seem a propitious time for a confrontation, so I decided to wait until I could get his full attention.48
Once the campaign ended, Ball had delayed another three and a half
months before sending his memo to Johnson. During this interval, LBJ had
made several critical decisions: he had approved the principle of bombing
in December; prepared for action in January; and decided to strike North in
early February. Ball knew, at least, of the latter two decisionshe had attended the Cabinet Room conference on January 6 and cabled Taylor about
Johnson's bombing policy on February 13. And yet he had continued to
withhold his memo.
Why had Ball hesitated so long before passing his lengthy dissent to LBJ?
Not out of personal fear of Johnson; Ball enjoyed a comfortable relationship
with the President. Johnson knew Ball opposed deeper American involvement in Vietnam. But he also knew Ball would never publicize his opposition. "George," LBJ once said to him, "you're like the school teacher looking for a job with a small school district in Texas. When asked by the school
board whether he believed that the world was flat or round, he replied: 'Oh,
I can teach it either way.' " "That's you," laughed Johnson, "you can argue
like hell with me against a position, but I know outside this room you're
going to support me. You can teach it flat or round." LBJ respected Ball's
independent views; he tolerated them because this "teacher" answered to
"school board chairman" Johnson.49
Policy, not personality, explained Ball's delay. Ball had never opposed
the idea of bombing per se. He sensed its dangers and limitations, as he had
warned the President earlier in January and February, but considered those
dangers and limitations tolerablehoping, as he did, that bombing would
produce negotiations leading to a politically acceptable American withdrawal. As long as LBJ contemplated only bombing, Ball therefore kept the
memo to himself. But by late February, Ball had begun hearing rumblings
within the State Department and Pentagon about the need for U.S. combat
forces to protect the launching sites of air strikes against the North.
Such rumblings touched the deepest fear in Ballthe specter of an American land war in Vietnam. This prospect unnerved him, evoking haunting
memories of France's nightmare a decade before. Unalterably opposed to
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U.S. combat involvement, Ball now saw the force of events pushing Johnson
toward that very abyss.
As a result, Ball finally decided to act. He gave his memo to Bill Moyers
at lunch on February 24, who passed it to the President that afternoon.
Ball's memo swam against the rushing tide of current thinking on Vietnam. Ball dismissed the thesis that bombing Hanoi could somehow rectify
Saigon's grave political problems. "Even if [South Vietnam's] deterioration
is checked," he wrote, "there seems little likelihood of establishing a government that can (a) provide a solid center around which the broad support of
the Vietnamese people can coalesce or (b) conduct military operations with
sufficient effectiveness to clean up the insurgency."
Why had America committed itself to such a weak entity? The "primary
motive," Ball concluded, was "unquestionably political." The United States
was in South Vietnam to demonstrate its anti-communist resolveits commitment to global containment.
Since political calculations precipitated Washington's involvement, Ball
felt the costs of that involvement should be measured in political terms.
America's commitment to South Vietnam should be judged by its impact on
"U.S. prestige," "the credibility of our commitments elsewhere," and its
"effect on our alliances." If judged by these criteria, Ball believed the U.S.
effort in South Vietnam would fail.
To begin with, South Vietnam suffered unusualif not uniqueproblems
which undermined its symbolic importance to the free world. South Vietnam, in Ball's words, was simply "not Korea"; America's commitment to
Saigon lacked the significance of its earlier commitment to Seoul. He explained why:
a. We were in South Korea under a clear UN mandate. Our presence in South
Viet-Nam depends upon the continuing request of the GVN plus the SEATO
protocol.
b. At their peak, UN forces in South Korea (other than ours and those of the
ROK) included 53,000 infantrymen . . . provided by fifty-three nations. In
Viet-Nam we are going it alone with no substantial help from any other country.
c. In 1950 the Korean government under Syngman Rhee was stable. It had the
general support of the principal elements in the country. There was little
factional fighting and jockeying for power. In South Viet-Nam we face governmental chaos.
d. The Korean War started only two years after Korean independence. The
Korean people were still excited by their newfound freedom; they were fresh
for the war. In contrast, the people of Indochina have been fighting for almost
twenty yearsfirst against the French, then for the last ten years against the
NVN. All evidence points to the fact that they are tired of conflict.
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e. Finally, the Korean War started with a massive land invasion by 100,000
troops. This was a classical type of invasion across an established border . . . It
gave us an unassailable political and legal base for counteraction. In South
Viet-Nam there has been no invasiononly a slow infiltration. Insurgency is
by its nature ambiguous. The Viet Cong insurgency does have substantial indigenous support. . . . As a result, many nations remain unpersuaded that
Hanoi is the principal source of the revolt. And, as the weakness of the Saigon
Government becomes more and more evident, an increasing number of governments will be inclined to believe that the Viet Cong insurgency is, in fact,
an internal rebellion.
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trolled, that move is probably ineffective. If the move is effective, it may not be
possible to controlor accurately anticipatethe response.
War was an unpredictable and unruly tiger, and once "on the tiger's back,"
said Ball, "we cannot be sure of picking the place to dismount."
Instead, he feared the tiger would carry America deeper and deeper into
the morass of Vietnam. Bombing would lead to increased infiltration; increased infiltration would lead to attacks on the bases launching air strikes;
these attacks would lead to U.S. ground forces to protect the bases; U.S.
ground forces would lead to a revolutionary change in the management of
the war; an Americanized war would lead to domestic frustration and bitterness more serious than Korea a decade before.
The logic of events frightened Ball, prompting him to weigh the political
costs of escalation against the political benefits of continued involvement.
He summarized the prevailing assumption:
. . . the United States must successfully stop the extension of Communist
power into South Viet-Nam if its promises are to have credence. . . . [FJailing
such an effort our Allies around the world would be inclined to doubt our
promises and to feel that they could no longer safely rely upon American
power against Communist aggressive ambitions.
Here was the driving force of American action, the principle on which so
much planning hinged. It had guided U.S. policy in Southeast Asia for years
and, in the process, had approached the status of dogma. Ball was willing
to play the heretic, to ask whether America's allies viewed its effort in Vietnam as Americans assumed they did.
This was no easy task. Having devoted great effort to South Vietnam's
cause, Americans wanted to believe its allies considered that effort worthwhile. But Ball thought not. He acknowledged the painful reality of Allied
thinking on Vietnam:
They fear that as we become too deeply involved in a war on the land mass of
Asia, we will tend to lose interest in their problems. They believe that we
would be foolish to risk bogging ourselves down in the Indochina jungle. They
fear a general loss of confidence in American judgment that could result if we
pursued a course which many regarded as neither prudent nor necessary.
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"would create enormous risks for the United States and impose costs incommensurate with the possible benefits." He beseeched this re-examination be
undertaken "before we commit military forces to a line of action that could
put events in the saddle and destroy our freedom to choose policies that are
at once the most effective and the most prudent."50
Ball had spoken forcefully and passionately against escalation. But he had
also spoken belatedly. Ball had withheld his memo from Johnson during the
pivotal months when LBJ moved ever closer to bombing. He had hesitated
to step forward and, in doing so, had done little to check the escalatory
momentum. Ball had failed to assert his convictions as the pressure for intervention had grown.
But it was still not too late. The bombing of North Vietnam had yet to
begin. The President now had Ball's memo, and the continuing freedom to
choose his policy.
Johnson studied Ball's memorandum during the evening of February 24,
The next morning, Bill Moyers called Ball to say the President had read
and reread his memo. Johnson had "found it fascinating," Moyers remarked,
"and wanted to know why he had not read it before."81
Late on the afternoon of February 26, Ball, McNamara, and Rusk met
with the President in the Oval Office to discuss Ball's long and critical
memorandum. Johnson had examined the document carefully. He questioned several of Ball's contentions, even recalling the specific pages where
they appeared. LBJ seemed concerned, if not convinced, by his arguments.
McNamara was less impressed. As he had in several previous meetings,
McNamara discounted the hazards of bombing. "George here," he said, "is
exaggerating the dangers." "It is not a final act," he added. Bombing was
controllable. Its risks were manageable, McNamara contended, and far less
serious than those of withdrawal.52
Rusk did not share McNamara's confidence. He understood Saigon's troubles too well to expect much from bombing. But Rusk feared the loss of
South Vietnam more than he doubted the efficacy of bombing. The President had to go forward, he said, despite the risks of escalation.
Ball failed to convert Johnson. LBJ would proceed with the bombing.
The President had already decided; his thinking had gone too far toward
major escalation.
Whatever his hopes, Ball had privately feared just this. "I had a ... sense
of fatality that I wasn't going to keep it from happening," he later admitted.
"It would indeed happen. Once you get one of those things going, it's just
like a little alcohol; you're going to get a taste for more. It's a compelling
thing."53
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L I K E THE O P E N I N G of a floodgate, Johnson's bombing decision unleashed a torrent of new and fateful military pressures. Even before ROLLING THUNDER began, General Westmoreland cabled Washington, seeking ground forces to protect the airfield at Danang, launching site of
bombing strikes against the North.
Westmoreland's call represented a striking departure from past requests.
Although over 23,000 U.S. advisers had reached South Vietnam by 1965,
their mission remained unchanged from the first arrivals in 1950: to assist
and train ARVN to fight its own war against the Vietcong. Westmoreland
now sought to inject American ground forces directly into the conflict.
Westmoreland's request alarmed Ambassador Taylor, who, although a
former Army general, had failed to anticipate the need for troops to protect
the airfields when he recommended air strikes early on. What is more, Taylor
had urged a similar deployment to President Kennedy back in November
1961. But his thinking had changed drastically since then. Taylor's experience as ambassador had sensitized him to Saigon's deep political divisions and how seriously those divisions undermined both governmental stability and military effectiveness. The incessant squabbling among Buddhists,
generals, and politicians had sapped his faith in South Vietnam's war effort, while stirring grave doubts about the wisdom of direct American intervention. Taylor now firmly opposed committing U.S. ground troops to
Vietnam.
Yet Westmoreland's request seemed the first step in this very direction.
When Taylor learned of the plan, he recalled fearing "[tjhis would be the
nose of the camel coming into the tent." "Once you put that first soldier
ashore," he added privately at the time, "you never know how many others
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the Marines in patrol sweeps around the airbase. LBJ rejected this strategy,
restricting the Marines to the airfield itself and prohibiting any offensive
operations against the Vietcong.
Secretary Rusk relayed Johnson's decision to Saigon on February 26. Rusk
instructed Taylor to leave the South Vietnamese "in no doubt" that the
Marine deployment was "for a limited purpose and that [the] GVN must
continue [to] have full responsibility in [the] pacification program." LBJ
had accepted Westmoreland's plan without forgetting Taylor's warnings.3
Nine days later, on the morning of March 8, a flotilla of naval transports
slowly chugged toward Nam O Beach on the western rim of Danang Bay.
The landing craft, struggling against stiff winds and rough seas, carried the
first American ground troops to the Asian mainland since the end of the
Korean War. The Marines, dressed in full battle gear, splashed ashore, according to an eyewitness, "as if re-enacting Iwo Jima."4
Instead of hostile enemy troops, the Marines encountered a cordial welcoming committee. Local South Vietnamese officials hailed their arrival.
Danang's mayor had also mobilized a bevy of pretty young Vietnamese
women, draped in close-fitting ao dai tunics, who showered the first Marines
wading ashore with garlands of yellow dahlias and red gladiolas. It seemed
so pleasant and so easy. Further back on the beach, however, stood a group of
veteran U.S. Army advisers, silently watching the spectacle beneath darkening skies.
The Marine landing at Danang only intensified Johnson's anxiety about
the bombing. Never comfortable with his decision, LBJ became increasingly
nervous about its consequences. Already he had authorized American
ground forces to South Vietnamsomething he scarcely contemplated just
weeks before.
The bombing seemed dangerous, uncertain, full of hazards. And not central to victory, the President believed. Johnson still felt the war would be
won or lost in the South, in the struggle between the government and the
guerrillas for the allegiance of the people.
LBJ wanted renewed effort in South Vietnam, now that he had agreed, at
last, to strike against North Vietnam. Johnson had authorized the air war
and, in return, expected results in the ground war.
The President assigned this task to Army Chief of Staff General Harold
K. Johnson. He ordered General Johnson to South Vietnam to canvass the
military situation and find ways to improve it.
Shortly before General Johnson left for Saigon, LBJ summoned him to
the White House. ROLLING THUNDER had begun the day before. The
President appeared nervous and apprehensive about this latest step. "Bomb,
bomb, bomb. That's all you know," he complained to the general. "Well,"
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LBJ demanded, "I want to know why there's nothing else. You generals have
all been educated at the taxpayers' expense, and you're not giving me any
ideas and any solutions for this damn little pissant country." "Now, I don't
need ten generals to come in here ten times and tell me to bomb," he
growled. "I want some solutions. I want some answers." As the two men
descended the White House elevator after their breakfast meeting in the
family quarters, LBJ turned to the Army Chief of Staff, stared him closely
in the face with a finger pointed at his chest, and in a low voice said, "You
get things bubbling, General."5
Johnson seemed particularly anxious about Vietnam in early March. Each
day, events forced new and unpleasant choices, while further constricting
the President's options. This growing sense of foreboding also affected LBJ's
three principal advisersMcNamara, Rusk, and McGeorge Bundywho met
to discuss Vietnam the evening of March 5.
Bundy reported their feelings in a long memo to Johnson the next morning. "Dean Rusk, Bob McNamara, and I spent 2i/ hours together last night
on Vietnam," Bundy informed the President. He was blunt about the outcome: "Two of the three of us think that the chances of a turn-around in
South Vietnam remain less than even." Bundy rested this startling conclusion on a grim but abiding fact: "[TJhere is no evidence yet that the new
government has the necessary will, skill and human resources which a turnaround will require."
As a result, all three sensed more and deeper trouble ahead. This likelihood so disconcerted McNamara, in fact, that he now pressed for the opening of "real talks" in the belief, wrote Bundy, "that we will need a conference table if things go worse, as he expects."
The mounting sense of gloom gripping these men had become palpable,
driving them to contemplate grave eventualities. Where before each had
talked of eventual success, they now stressed the need for "contingency planning" for "either escalation by the enemy or continued sharp deterioration
in South Vietnam." That Johnson's closest advisers favored such planning,
even if "very, very privately," intensified LBJ's anxiety enormously.6
Lady Bird noticed her husband's growing anxiety during a dinner conversation with friends the next evening. Surrounded by old colleagues and
trusted aides, the President vented his fears and frustrations. "I can't get
out," he sighed, and "I can't finish it with what I've got." "So what the Hell
can I do?" he moaned.7
Johnson voiced similar trepidation to Rusk, McNamara, and McGeorge
Bundy on March 9. That afternoon, LBJ reactivated the "Tuesday Lunch"
his privy council on foreign and defense affairsfor the first time since
September 1964.
John McNaughton, McNamara's Vietnam assistant, joined the Principals
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for lunch in the Mansion to report on his recent fact-finding trip to Saigon.
McNaughton delivered unsettling news. The "thing is much worse" than
Washington imagined, he said, describing the general mood throughout
South Vietnam as "troubled."
McNaughton then sketched three equally unpleasant remedies: (1) increased "pressure on [the] North"which McNaughton labeled a "squeeze";
(2) "[n]o squeeze but [a] sustained reply" including "lots of U.S. and, if
possible, allied troops"; or (3) recognizing "it's a loser" and determining
"how to get out with limited humiliation."
The President followed McNaughton uneasily. "What good have [our]
strikes done?" he wanted to know.
They have provided "a bargaining [chip]," Rusk answered.
Johnson, persistently skeptical, again raised the issue of political stability.
Did McNaughton anticipate further coups, despite the bombing?
"Yes[,] there will be another coup" was McNaughton's unhappy prediction.
"I'd much prefer to stay in South Vietnam," LBJ drearily said, "But after
fifteen months[,] we all agree we have to do more."8
Johnson felt snared by the bombing. Having taken the big step, he sensed
the difficultythe impossibilityof reversing it. LBJ felt locked on a perilous
course, studded with unknown hazards, with little confidence that he could
navigate the journey successfully.
An event in the American South two days earlier compounded Johnson's
worries. On the morning of March 7, over 500 blacks had marched out of
Selma, Alabama, toward Montgomery, fifty-three miles to the east, to protest
Negro disfranchisement at the Alabama State Capitol.
The marchers did not get far. After crossing the Edmund Pettus bridge on
the outskirts of town, they met state troopers camped 300 yards down the
Jefferson Davis Highway. The armed troopers, clad in navy jackets and skyblue helmets, stood shoulder-to-shoulder across both sides of the four-lane
highway. "You will not be allowed to march any further!" a trooper bellowed through his bullhorn. "You've got two minutes to disperse!"
Less than a minute later, the troopers stormed the procession, pummeling
the marchers with nightsticks and tear gas. Local white vigilantes entered
the fray. "O.K., nigger," snarled a posseman, whipping a black woman with
barbed wire-laced rubber tubing, "You wanted to marchnow march!"
Slowly, painfully, the bloodied and choking marchers retreated back across
the bridge.
The Selma confrontation shocked the nation, riveting new attention on
the administration's proposed voting rights billthe cornerstone of LBJ's
Great Society. Johnson was determined to pass this bill, despite resistance
from southern conservatives. Yet he knew guiding it through congressional
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committees chaired by powerful southerners would be difficult, if not impossible. They might seize on the widening conflict in Vietnam to bury his
dream of voting reform.
This prospect plagued Johnson, who felt torn between standing firm in
Vietnam and avoiding a massive escalation inimical to the voting rights bill
and his other domestic initiatives. LBJ mediated these conflicting pressures
by purposefully concealing his bombing decision.
At a press conference on March 13 dominated by the Selma crisis and the
voting rights issue, Johnson also confronted questions about recent air
strikes against North Vietnam. He deliberately downplayed their significance, stressing the "continuity" of his latest Vietnam action:
[O]ur policy there is the policy that was established by President Eisenhower,
as I have stated, since I have been President, 46 different times, the policy
carried on by President Kennedy, and the policy that we are now carrying on.
In rambling and evasive terms, Johnson had suggested no military departure, avoiding any mention of the bombing offensive he had approved barely
two weeks before.9
If LBJ hoped to keep the issue of Vietnam dormant in coming weeks, he
was quickly disappointed. The day after his news conference, Army Chief of
Staff Johnson returned from South Vietnam with recommendations to increase the American military effort there substantially. Among other things,
General Johnson urged intensifying the air offensive against North Vietnam,
creating a multinational anti-infiltration force along the DMZ, and deploying a U.S. Army division, approximately 16,000 soldiers, near Saigon or in
the central highlands.10
The Johnson Report reflected the Pentagon's growing demands for
tougher action in Vietnam. ROLLING THUNDER was not yet two weeks
old, and already the military told LBJ more was needed.
McGeorge Bundy had begun to think so too. Bundy had initially pushed
bombing as a means to bolster South Vietnam politically, and, secondarily,
to inhibit North Vietnam militarily. But ROLLING THUNDER had
neither alleviated Saigon's governmental chaos nor substantially impaired
Hanoi's support of the Vietcong. Bombing was failing, in short, to meet his
objectives. But rather than leading Bundy to question the wisdom of escalation, these shortcomings compelled him to contemplate even greater escalation a substantial ground force deploymentin the hope that troops would
somehow accomplish what bombs had not.
Bundy distilled his thinking in a memo to the President, McNamara, and
Rusk on March 16. He conceded bombing was not working and probably
wouldn't in the future. "[Tjhere appear to be three things that Hanoi can
do," Bundy wrote: "it can stop its infiltration; it can withdraw forces and
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supplies under its control in the South; it can order its people not to use
force against the government in the South." But "[njone of these is likely,"
he predicted, "and it is questionable whether any of them will be ordered
under the pressure of our air operations alone."
Precisely because bombing was not working, Bundy felt driven to urge an
even bolder stepthe introduction of large numbers of American combat
soldiers. "This U.S. ground presence," he argued, "is likely to reinforce both
pacification efforts and Southern morale, while discouraging the VC from
their current expectation of early victory"the same stubbornly elusive goals
Bundy had sought through bombing.11
As Bundy gravitated toward larger ground forces, Westmoreland submitted a formal request for them. On March 17, barely a week after the
Marines' arrival at Danang, the general cabled Washington asking for more.
Westmoreland wanted another Marine Battalion Landing Team (BLT) to
protect the helicopter base at Phubai, on the northern coast near Hue.
Westmoreland's request startled Ambassador Taylor. It seemed to confirm
what he had cautioned President Johnson against the month before: that
the prohibition on ground troops, once breeched, would generate irresistible
pressures to escalate the war.
Again, Taylor cabled Washington, reiterating his previous warnings.
"This proposal for introducing the BLT," he advised Johnson, "is a reminder of the strong likelihood of additional requests for increases in U.S.
ground combat forces in SVN." Taylor had no doubt where such increases
would lead. They would encourage the South Vietnamese "to an attitude of
'let the United States do it,' " leaving America to shoulder an ever-greater
share of the war-fighting burden.
The ambassador knew the character of Saigon's ambitious generals. He
had watched them conspire first against Huong and then against their own
leader, Khanh. With American troops on hand, these generals could pursue
their political infighting with increased vigor, leaving military operations to
their hapless ally. Taylor fearedand expectedjust this. Indeed, the ambassador suggested, "it remains to be proved" that ARVN "would perform
better by the stimulation of the U.S. presence rather than worse in a mood
of relaxation at passing the Viet Cong burden to the U.S."
Aside from its dulling effect on ARVN determination, Taylor worried
that direct American intervention also posed serious political risks by reawakening Vietnamese fears of western imperialism. The Vietminh had challenged the French legionnaires a decade before, and in the process had
scored a major political triumph. U.S. troops could prove a similar target,
the ambassador reasoned, increasing "our vulnerability to Communist propaganda . . . as we appear to assume the old French role of alien colonizer
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candor, arguing out the premises and goals of a policy he had helped, in,
so many ways, to fashion.
America's "cardinal" objective in Vietnam, Bundy reasoned, was "not to
be a Paper Tiger""not to have it thought," in his words, "that when we
commit ourselves we really mean no high risks." The allusion to Mao's
aspersion against the United States reflected Bundy's palpable fear of communist China. Like so many in contemporary Washington, Bundy harbored
a deep suspicion of Chinese expansion. It was Peking, he and others believed, which lay behind Hanoi's involvement in South Vietnam. And it was
Peking, they believed, which must be convinced of U.S. resolveeven at the
risk of war with China.
The importance which Bundy attached to containing perceived Chinese
expansion related as much to American politics as to American security
interests. For Bundy lived in an age fresh with the memory of Chiang's fall
and the rise of McCarthy. He understood only too well the political repercussions for a Democratic administration which failed to hold the line against
Asian communism. Though he questionedperhaps even doubtedultimate
American success in South Vietnam, Bundy judged it politically imperative
to continue the effort. This reasoning was strikingly apparent in his following proposition: "[I]n terms of domestic US politics, which is better: to 'lose'
now or to 'lose' after committing 100,000 men?" "[T]he latter," Bundy figured,
"[f]or if we visibly do enough in the South, any failure will be, in that moment, beyond our control." And beyond political reproach from the right.
Whatever his view of the political stakesinternational and domesticin
Vietnam, Bundy considered the military stakes quite limited. Should South
Vietnam fall to the communists, he anticipated the results would be "marginal," "for on a straight military account, the balance [of world power]
remains as it was. . . ." Bundy clearly rejected the "domino" principle and
a communist Vietnam's threat to American security.
This admission was important. It forced Bundy to reassess the wisdom of
Washington's deepening commitment. If, in the final analysis, a communist
Vietnam posed little danger to U.S. security, was escalation to prevent or
postpone this outcome essential? Were the costs, in American lives and
treasure, warranted?
Even Bundy, in this guarded moment, seemed to waverto express doubt
on this crucial question. "[T]he whole game," he privately confessed, "is
less than it today appears, both in status and in consequences . . . because
the result elsewhere would not be earthshatteringwin or lose." What is
more, he continued, Washington could "claim special circumstances whenever [it] want[ed]." Saigon's political debilities were so severe, so profound,
and there for all the world to see.
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And yet Bundy could not bring himself to change his basic judgment, to
act on the insights he had so forcefully articulated. As if to reconvince himself, Bundy concluded his thoughts with a personal peroration. The "battle
in the South must go on!" he finished.16
Bundy's soliloquy had centered on U.S. troops in South Vietnam, but it
was the U.S. bombing of North Vietnam which preoccupied President Johnson and his top advisers at their "Tuesday Lunch" two days later.
McNamara, Rusk, and Bundy joined LBJ in the second-floor dining room
of the Mansion at 2:45 that afternoon. The intimate, well-appointed room,
walled by murals depicting famous Revolutionary War battles, provided a
fitting setting for this high-level deliberation on war strategy.
Johnson, seated in a large leather chair at one end of the oblong mahogany table, dominated the session with his physical presence and searching
questions. "Where are we going?" he demanded to know. ROLLING
THUNDER had entered its fourth week without tangible results, and the
pressure for further steps increased daily.
McNamara tried to reassure LBJ, telling him that "our message may be
getting through" to "Hanoi" and "China," but his uncertainty scarcely comforted the President.
Rusk seemed hardly more encouraging. He detected "some signs" of communist reaction, but as yet, no diplomatic "doors" had been opened.
"Do[n't] they know we're willin' to talk?" Johnson shot back in evident
frustration.
LBJ was baffled. North Vietnam continued to spurn negotiations, to resist
the mounting air attacks. How could this small, underdeveloped country
possibly resist America's overwhelming might?
Frustrated by Hanoi's diplomatic intransigence, Johnson turned to military measures. Leaning over a map of Vietnam spread atop the table, LBJ
slowly ran his fingers down the ROLLING THUNDER target list. "You
can revisit targets," he said, glancing up at McNamara. "I don't wanna run
out of targets and I don't wanna go to Hanoi." Johnson intended to keep
pressuring North Vietnam, without resorting to all-out air attacks which
might provoke war with China or Russia.16
As LBJ struggled over the future course of bombing, military chiefs
drafted plans for further troop deployments. On March 19, Admiral Sharp,
commander of American forces in the Pacific, cabled his support for Westmoreland's Phubai proposal, along with a request for another Marine battalion to Danang. The following day, March 20, the Joint Chiefs submitted
their own plan to McNamara. It recommended a much bigger deploymenttwo U.S. divisions to South Vietnam's northern and central provinces.17
When McNamara received these requests, he ordered his assistant, John
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would go to the northern provinces and one Army division to the central
highlandsa total of more than 32,000 new U.S. forces engaged in active
combat.
As he had in cables to President Johnson, Taylor challenged these additional deployments. He particularly questioned their political wisdom. AntiAmerican sentiment lay just beneath the surface in South Vietnam, Taylor
warned the Joint Chiefs, and committing large numbers of U.S. troops
risked igniting it, stirring dangerous perceptions of neo-colonialism among
the people.
The ambassador's comments impressed McNamara, reinforcing his own
anxieties about larger ground forces. McNamara told the Chiefs their proposal would have to be studied further in light of Taylor's reservations.23
That study came the next afternoon, during the President's Tuesday
Lunch with McNamara, Rusk, and McGeorge Bundy. McNamara, in this
private setting, reviewed the cumulative troop requests with much greater
candor than he had at the NSC meeting four days earlier. Sensitive to Johnson's concerns about the domestic repercussions of larger deployments, he
tried to estimate the minimum level necessary to meet military needs. McNamara figured an "additional 20,000 conventional [i.e. combat] reinforcement," plus "two more Marine battalions"to Phubai and Danang.24
All this talk about troops disconcerted Johnson. He wanted to address
other issuesof an economic and political naturewhich he understood
better and which he felt played an equally important role in overcoming
the insurgency. What about regional developmentcreating an Inter-Asian
Bank along the lines of the Inter-American bank? LBJ wondered. How
about "land reform"? he asked. Like the captain seeking harbor from a
gathering storm, Johnson sought shelter in the familiar instrument of social
reform, hoping this, somehow, would lessen his military burdens.25
And lessen his domestic political concerns as well, which had become
acute by late March 1965. For the President confronted demands for more
troops and thus a wider war just as many of his Great Society initiatives
approached crucial junctures in their legislative journeys. The Elementary
and Secondary Education bill neared a final congressional vote; the Medicare/Medicaid bill awaited floor action in the House; hearings on the Voting Rights bill had begun in both chambers. LBJ faced a wrenching
dilemma: a deepening Vietnam commitment jeopardizing his emerging
Great Society.
Johnson chose to brook this dilemma by denying, publicly, that it existed.
Late on the afternoon of April 1, LBJ called a surprise news conference.
Standing before the hastily assembled reporters in the White House Theater,
Johnson waxed cheerfully on the Great Society's progress through Congress.
Seventy days into his term, LBJ had the legislature playing his tune. His
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bills were moving. Johnson could not resist favorable comparison with
FDR's New Deal. Congress has "passed more measures already than were
passed the first 100 days of the Roosevelt administration," LBJ proudly
noted.
When the issue of Vietnam arose, however, Johnson's sunny disposition
evaporated. A correspondent who had learned about an important White
House meeting on Vietnam later that evening asked whether "dramatic"
proposals would be discussed. LBJ's eyes, which had glimmered with talk of
the Great Society, narrowed perceptibly. "I know of no far-reaching strategy
that is being suggested or promulgated," he answered. Struggling to quell
rumors about troop increases he feared might scuttle his domestic reforms,
Johnson added cryptically:
I hear the commentators . . . talk about the dramatics of this situation, the
great struggle that was coming about between various men and the top level
conferences that were in the offing, where revolutionary decisions were being
made, and I turned off one of my favorite networks and walked out of the
room. Mrs. Johnson said, "What did you say?" And I said, "I didn't say anything but if you are asking me what I think, I would say God forgive them for
they know not what they do."
In an oblique but poignant way, LBJ seemed to implore the press not to
dramatize the troop issue, for that would raise political dangers he wished
to avoid.26
From his press conference in the White House Theater, Johnson crossed
the portico to the Cabinet Room, where his very closest Vietnam advisers
awaited him.27
LBJ opened this crucial session by discussing his surprise meeting with
reporters. By calling it at the last minute, Johnson had hoped to dodge
troublesome rumors about troop increases in Vietnam. But the press had
confronted him with these rumors, and shaken him with their unexpected
diligence. LBJ admitted, rather sheepishly, that he had assured reporters
"no great decisions [were] to be discussed" at this gathering.
Rusk broke the awkward silence by reviewing American objectives in
Vietnam. He identified four goalsall tied to Hanoi's support of the southern insurgency: an end to the infiltration of native southerners regrouped
north following the 1954 Geneva Accords; an end to the infiltration of
military and logistical supplies; an end to the direction of many Vietcong
operations; arid a withdrawal of recently introduced North Vietnamese
regulars.
ROLLING THUNDER had failed to curtail any of these in a meaningful
way. Johnson and his advisers wondered whether it ever wouldshort of a
massive bombardment which might trigger Chinese and Russian interven-
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Plagued by the specter of nuclear conflagration, Johnson hesitated to unleash unlimited bombing.
But if LBJ eschewed all-out air attacks for understandable reasons, he
had to find other ways to pressure North Vietnam. Negotiations appeared
one option. Johnson saw "no harm" in asking for talks through the ICSC,
he said, but feared "great harm if they tell anyone they are asking for us."
Harm not only to Washington's bargaining leverage with Hanoi but also
to the President's domestic political standing. For LBJ deeply feared the
right wingthe "great beast" he called itwhich, as George Ball remembered him saying, "would come in and insist that we really blow the whole
place apart."29
Whatever the objections from the right, Johnson looked to negotiations
as a way to end North Vietnam's support of the Vietcong and thus arrest the
insurgency. Securing the former meant ending the latter, LBJ and his advisers had repeatedly insisted to the public.
Actual circumstances, however, revealed a more complex and disturbing
picture. The Vietcong resistance, though receiving supplies, training, operational assistance, and even small numbers of troops from North Vietnam,
rested on a bedrock of discontented South Vietnamese, which no amount of
U.S. military or diplomatic pressure on Hanoi could erase.
Rusk indirectly acknowledged this sobering reality. The Secretary confessed, quite candidly, that he was "not sure Hanoi can deliver on cessation"
of the southern insurgency, even if it could be coerced into trying. CIA
Director McCone also doubted North Vietnam's ability to turn the Vietcong
off like a faucet, though he considered a "substantial reduction . . . possible."30
Rusk's and McCone's appraisals unsettled the President. How could the
VC guerrillas be subdued, if not by pressure against Hanoi?
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Johnson was frustrated and bewildered. "If we can just get our feet on
their neck," he muttered, referring to the stubbornly elusive insurgency.
Exasperated by the complexities of the situation, LBJ alternated between
expressions of uncertainty and anger. Would pledges of economic assistance,
such as "rural electrification" and "brotherhood operation[s]," coax the
Vietcong to abandon their struggle? he asked. A moment later, Johnson
seemed full of uncompromising determination. "We have set our hand to
[the] wheel," he declared, and America had to persevere. "Get plenty more
targets," the President barked at McNamara and Wheeler, as "damn many
planes" as necessary "to find 'em and kill "em." Then back again to the idea
of inducements: "hold out [the] promised land," he said. LBJ intended to
punish and reward the VC into submissionto awe the insurgency with
America's destructive power, while seducing it with dispensations of America's economic largesse.
Whatever Johnson's long-range theorizing about the Vietcong problem,
he faced a more immediate decision: whether to commit more U.S. troops
to save South Vietnam. General Wheeler stressed the urgency of the situation. "We are losing the war out there," he said, pressing LBJ to approve
the Joint Chiefs' two-division proposal.
Johnson hesitated to grant the big request. "Have we exhausted all the
possibilities with foreign forces?" he asked, seeking to strengthen America's
political position while diffusing its military burdens.
Wheeler summarized the extent of allied assistance to South Vietnam:
South Korea might muster, at Washington's urging, one combat division;
Australia, one battalion; the Philippines, perhaps one regimental combat
team. No help from Great Britain, France, New Zealand, or even Japan,
which lay much closer to Indochina than the United States.
After reviewing America's lonesome commitment, Wheeler again pressed
LBJ for a decision on the two divisions. Johnson deferred the JCS proposal.
But he agreed to Westmoreland's two-battalion request and, much more
important, to change the Marines' mission from base security to active
combat.
In parrying the larger force proposal, LBJ had yielded a crucial concession. The troop numbers had been moderated, but their function had been
broadened significantly. U.S. ground forces would now directly enter the
war.31
Johnson's reluctant decision to commit additional soldiers and to change
their mission only deepened his anxiety about Vietnam's domestic repercussions. With American troops involved in the fighting, U.S. casualties and
costs would surely rise, straining the political consensus and economic resources sustaining the Great Society. Fearing these effects on his domestic
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program, LBJ elected to veil his latest decisioneven before the full National Security Council, which he convened the following afternoon.32
At this meeting, Johnson skirted the previous day's decisions by focusing
on political issues. He asked Ambassador Taylor, who had briefed House
and Senate leaders earlier that morning, to report on the mood of Congress.
House members seemed satisfied with the administration's Vietnam efforts.
But Taylor sensed trouble in the Senate. Fulbright, he said, had voiced
concern over rumors the President might send three or four new divisions
to South Vietnam. The senator had also questioned whether the Tonkin
Gulf Resolution covered such deployments, Taylor added.
If Fulbright's comments troubled LBJ, he did not show it. Johnson could
simply see no reason, he professed, why additional forces required another
congressional resolution. LBJ's glib deflection of Fulbright's criticism masked
deep fear of renewed legislative debate over Vietnam at this critical juncture
in his Great Society agenda.
Johnson knew his approval of additional deployments also threatened
that agenda. To lessen the threat, he decided to limit knowledge of those
deployments and their new combat mission to his very closest advisers.
Using Wheeler, Taylor, and McGeorge Bundyeach privy to the previous
day's decisionsLBJ cleverly concealed those decisions from the larger NSC
group.
Like a director guiding his players, Johnson asked General Wheeler what
specific measures would be instituted. Taking his cue from LBJ, Wheeler
noted the two-battalion deployment, but not the new combat mission.
Taylor also played his assigned role, reviewing what he would tell the
media: "No dramatic change in strategy; we will try to do better what we
are doing now."
Lest any of those present suspected something more, McGeorge Bundy
cautioned everyone to use the President's April 1 press comments as a guide
in their public statements. "Under no circumstances," he said under Johnson's watchful eye, "should there be any reference to the movement of U.S.
forces or other future courses of action."
Not everyone yielded to LBJ's orchestration, however. John McCone, who
had attended the previous day's "off-the-record" meeting, recognized what
President Johnson was doing and disliked it.
A soft-spoken man with silvery-white hair and rimless glasses, McCone's
professorial bearing concealed a strong-willed and decisive temperament.
Chosen by Kennedy to succeed Allen Dulles as CIA Director after the Bay
of Pigs debacle, McCone had guided the agency with the confidence and
determination of a successful industrialist turned government servant.
McCone had begun his career in the late 1930s, when he had helped
launch the giant Bechtel Corporation. During World War II, he had de-
Ill
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will be spaced over [a] period [of] time with publicity re all deployments
kept at [the] lowest key possible."36
Johnson's effort to cloak the Marines' new mission related to the Army
units scheduled to arrive with them: a logistics command and an engineering construction group sent to lay the foundation for expanded military
operations. These units reflected the compromise struck between LBJ and
the Joint Chiefs on April 1. Although Johnson had deflected the Chiefs' twodivision proposal, he had agreed to pave the way for future deployments.
Fearful of antagonizing the Pentagon brass and their conservative allies in
Congress, LBJ had left the door open to larger commitments.
This concession illustrated the growing military pressures on Johnson,
themselves a product of his earlier bombing decision. At the end of February, LBJ had approved the Marine deployment to Danang, specifically prohibiting their use in combat. At the beginning of April, he had repealed
that prohibition, added two battalions, and authorized the groundwork for
two divisions more. In less than five weeks, Johnson had reversed himself
dramatically. ROLLING THUNDER had altered the flow of policy toward
the, military, and LBJ was finding their requests increasingly difficult to
resist.
Indeed, on April 5, Johnson finally consented to preparations for the twodivision deployment. That afternoon, McNamara informed General Wheeler
of the President's decision, instructing him to begin arranging for their dispatch to South Vietnam.36
The Joint Chiefs, anticipating LBJ's consent, had already begun planning for the larger deployments. On April 2, they had submitted a series of
requests to McNamara: increased defense spending, extended tours of duty,
limited mobilization of reserves, higher manpower ceilings. The Chiefs were
bracing for a bigger war in Vietnam and saw these measures as essential
preconditions for fighting it.37
Johnson saw them differentlyas threats to his domestic agenda. Raising
military appropriations meant reducing social expenditures; expanding
tours of duty and manpower ceilings entailed heavier draft calls; mobilizing
the reserves implied a national emergencyall diverting the country's attention and resources away from his Great Society to Vietnam.
This was something LBJ was determined to avoid. Johnson had acceded
to the Pentagon's two-division request, but he refused to let it thwart his
domestic political goals. Wheeler and Westmoreland would get their additional troops, but on LBJ's terms: quietly, gradually, and without public
disclosure.
The same day Johnson directed McNamara to proceed with the two-division
plan, April 5, he ordered McGeorge Bundy to draft a national security
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directive enumerating this and other recent decisions. Bundy prepared the
secret directive, which LBJ signed the following day.
NSAM-328, as the document came to be known, spelled out Johnson's
recent military decisions: the two additional Marine battalions to Phubai
and Danang; the increase in logistical forces preparatory to larger ground
deployments; and the all-important change in troop mission, from base
security to active combat. With these decisions, LBJ had carried the United
States, unmistakably, across the line from advisory support to war in Vietnam.
Johnson intended to keep that line an invisible one, however. He deliberately limited NSAM-328's distribution to only three officials: Rusk, McNamara, and McConethe absolute minimum necessary to ensure its implementation. To ensure its secrecy, he warned Rusk, McNamara, and McCone
to avoid "premature publicity" about the ground deployments and their
change in mission "by all possible precautions." "The actions themselves,"
the directive read, "should be taken in ways that should minimize any
appearance of sudden changes in policy, and official statements on these
troop movements will be made only with the direct approval of the Secretary
of Defense, in consultation with the Secretary of State." LBJ's desire was
explicit: "that these movements and changes should be understood as being
gradual and wholly consistent with existing policy." The decisions codified
in NSAM-328 represented Johnson's response to accumulated military pressures, framed in the evasive and misleading language of a President fearful
of their domestic political consequences.38
6
"If I Were Ho Chi Mink,
I Would Never Negotiate"
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To Vance and other U.S. policymakers, bombing seemed a limited measurea mere intimation of the massive force America could unleash against
North Vietnam, should it hesitate to yield on Washington's terms. In their
minds, Hanoi could not possibly resist this overwhelming pressure.
Such reasoning reflected the tendency of great powers, as the historian
Theodore Draper has commented, "to think of 'limited wars' in terms of
themselves . . . of the 'limit' as what it would be, in relative terms, if they
were taking the punishment or in relation to the total force they are capable
of using." "But," Draper has also noted, "neither of these senses may seem
very limited to a small power. A great power may use only a very limited
portion of its power, but it will be enough to make a small power feel that
it must fight an unlimited war or not fight at all."3
North Vietnam, apparently, felt just this way. For rather than buckling
under to the bombing, as most U.S. planners had expected, Hanoi had
reacted by hardening its position. The day after ROLLING THUNDER
began, Mai Van Bo, head of North Vietnam's commercial delegation in
Paris, had approached the Quai d'Orsay and informed its Indochina chief,
Brethes, that "while previously the DRV had been ready to consider negotiation of some sort, US actions had changed the situation." "Negotiations
[were] no longer a matter for consideration at this time," Bo had emphasized.4
If American policymakers had badly underestimated Hanoi's resistance to
bombing, they had also badly overestimated Saigon's ability to capitalize on
it. ROLLING THUNDER had not steadied the South Vietnamese regime.
It had not increased its effectiveness. Political instability remained as chronic
as before.
The pressures generated by Hanoi's unexpected defiance and Saigon's continued weakness had been intensified by growing international opposition to
the bombing led by United Nations Secretary-General U Thant. On several
occasions beginning in August 1964 and into 1965, Thant had sought to
arrange private talks between the United States and North Vietnam in his
home capital of Rangoon, Burma. Although Hanoi had expressed an inter-
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tion, but one Johnson hoped would avert the political hazards of either
defeat or further escalation.
How would LBJ achieve these seemingly contradictory objectives? The
key, Johnson believed, lay in addressing the social and economic problems
of both Vietnams. Pitting U.S. resources against poverty, ignorance, and disease in the South would weaken the insurgency's appeal; offering similar
resources to the North might coax it into a settlement. American bounty
an exported Great Societywould be the President's trump card in all of
Vietnam.
LBJ sketched his ambitious vision to McNamara, Rusk, and McGeorge
Bundy at their Tuesday Lunch on April 6. Current drafts of his forthcoming speech to the nation dissatisfied Johnson. They emphasized the military
and political aspects of U.S. involvementideas like resisting aggression and
reaffirming containment of communist expansion.
LBJ wanted something more. He wanted to articulate the "humanitarian"
dimension of U.S. involvement as well. Vietnam needed things other than
American bullets and bombs, the President believed; it needed "food for
stomachs," "drugs for disease," and "schools for children" even more. Instead of commanding troops, Johnson wished that "every general" could be
"a surgeon""every pilot a nurse""every helicopter an ambulance"that
America's capacity for destruction could be transformed into a capacity for
healing. It was a deeply personal vision, but also a deeply contradictory one,
reflecting LBJ's conflicting objectives.26
This tension between Johnson's desire to prevail in Vietnam and his
desire to ameliorate its suffering permeated LBJ's nationally televised address at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore the following night. With
university president Milton Eisenhower, his eldest daughter Lynda Bird,
Lady Bird, and Vice President Humphrey seated to his left on the stage of
Shriver Hall's auditorium, Johnson addressed the audience and the country.
LBJ opened his speech on a note of resolve, stressing Washington's past
commitments. "Since 1954 every American President has . . . pledge[d] to
help South Viet-Nam defend its independence," Johnson declared, "And I
intend to keep that promise."
More than just America's word was at stake, however. So was the fate of
Southeast Asia, he asserted. For Johnson, like most of his advisers, harbored
an abiding fear of Chinese expansion. He perceived China on the march,
menacing not just South Vietnam, but also Burma, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Malaysia, and Indonesia. This perception reverberated in Johnson's
analysis of the Vietnam conflict:
Over this warand all Asiais another reality: the deepening shadow of Communist China. The rulers in Hanoi are urged on by Peking. This is a regime
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which has destroyed freedom in Tibet, which has attacked India, and has been
condemned by the United Nations for aggression in Korea. It is a nation which
is helping the forces of violence in almost every continent. The contest in
Viet-Nam is part of [this] wider pattern of aggressive purposes.
LBJ and his administration clearly viewed China as the primary threat to
Asian stability. They aimed, therefore, to limit Chinese expansion, to block
what they considered Peking's drive for Asian hegemony. As Johnson's Defense Secretary, Robert McNamara, confided to a prominent journalist some
weeks later, the administration's overriding objective in Vietnam was "to
contain China in her [present] expansionist phase" as the "Soviet Union
was contained" in its earlier "expansionist period."28
Washington's fear of Chinese aggression, however misguided, reflected
deeply ingrained suspicions. Peking had replaced Moscow in the minds of
U.S. policymakers as the wellspring of communist subversion. Mao had replaced Stalin as the fomenter of world revolution. China had replaced Russia, in short, as the focus of America's Cold War suspicions.
These suspicions resonated throughout the President's speech. In stark,
almost frightening terms, Johnson depicted China as a hostile and expansive
power which would not rest "until all of the nations of Asia are swallowed
up." Only American power stood between Peking and a communist Asia, he
suggested. To prevent this development, Johnson warned the North Vietnameseand especially those "who seek to share their conquest"that the
United States would "not be defeated" in South Vietnam, nor "withdraw,
either openly or under the cloak of a meaningless agreement."
The President had proclaimed America's determination. He had reaffirmed his toughness. Johnson could now address his other objective: reaching "a peaceful settlement" with North Vietnam. LBJ communicated this
goal loudly, seeking to assuage the growing critics of escalation. "We have
stated this position over and over again, fifty times and more, to friend and
foe alike," Johnson stressed, "[a]nd we remain ready, with this purpose, for
unconditional discussions."
But how would LBJ achieve a lasting settlement with Hanoi? By proffering what he believed the North Vietnamese wanted: "food for their hunger;
health for their bodies; a chance to learn; progress for their country; and an
end to the bondage of material misery." Dangling an enormous carrot,
Johnson outlined a billion-dollar development plan for Southeast Asia:
The vast Mekong River can provide food and water and power on a scale to
dwarf even our own TVA. The wonders of modern medicine can be spread
through villages where thousands die every year from lack of care. Schools can
be established to train people in the skills that are needed to manage the
process of development.
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"[TJhese objectives, and more," the President hinted, "are within the reach
of a cooperative and determined effort." It was a boundless vision o Vietnam's future, as boundless as LBJ's faith in American munificence.
What explained Johnson's almost religious belief in the allure of material
bounty? The answer lay in LBJ's early political experiences, in the wonders
New Deal economic development had brought to the young congressman's
central Texas district some thirty years before. "In the countryside where I
was born," Johnson told his audience, "I have seen the night illuminated,
and the kitchens warmed, and the homes heated, where once the cheerless
night and the ceaseless cold held sway. And all this happened because electricity came to our area along the humming wires of the REA."
The New Deal had transformed the lives of Representative Johnson's impoverished constituentsreplacing despair with hope, resignation with confidence. President Johnson believed he could perform similar miracles in
war-torn Vietnam. With Hanoi's peaceful cooperation, he would turn the
ravaged Mekong delta into a bustling Tennessee Valley.27
LBJ's vision reflected an uneasy fusion, as one biographer has noted, of
"Vietnamese culture and American values." Projecting his credo of economic and social improvement abroad, Johnson instinctively equated Ho
Chi Minh's goals with his own. He failed to perceive reunification as Ho's
irreducible objective. In LBJ's mind, Ho Chi Minh really wanted to improve the lives of his people. And LBJ would assist Ho in that effort, in
return for abandoning the war.28
But would Hanoi abandon the war? On this point, Johnson remained
deeply uncertain. On the one hand, LBJ believed he had found Ho Chi
Minh's price. He had asked his familiar question, "What do they need from
us?," and answered with a seemingly irresistible future for the North Vietnamese. "Old Ho can't turn me down," he confidently asserted to Bill
Moyers on his helicopter flight back to Washington that evening.
On the other hand, Johnson knew Hanoi's position was a strong one.
Saigon's divided government and demoralized army continued to lose
ground to the insurgency. If the communists waited patiently, the prize
might simply fall into their lap. LBJ perceived this painfully well. "If I were
Ho Chi Minh," he had remarked on another occasion, "I would never
negotiate."29
Hanoi's reaction to the Baltimore speech confirmed the doubter in Johnson. The day after LBJ's Johns Hopkins address, North Vietnamese Premier
Pham Van Dong delivered his government's response to Johnson's proposal.
Hanoi's conditions for a settlement were uncompromising: a complete U.S.
military withdrawal from South Vietnam; a cessation of all bombing attacks against North Vietnam; and, most important, the governmental reorganization of South Vietnam "in accordance with the program of the
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for the two divisionsnearly 50,000 more American soldiers by the middle
of June.35
The Honolulu recommendations dramatized the generals' rising bureaucratic influence. Wheeler's, Sharp's, and Westmoreland's requestsnot Taylor's reservationshad dominated the conference and governed its decisions.
McNamara, McNaughton, and Bundy had checked the two-division plan,
but at the price of an additional three-battalion deployment. The weight of
military demands had thrown civilian policymakers on the defensive, compelling them, however reluctantly, toward ever larger commitments.
With the Honolulu recommendations in hand, and Taylor's compliance
secured, McNamara and his party headed back to Washington that night.
During the flight, McNamara prepared a memo to the President outlining
the agreed-upon deployments. They entailed a marked increase in U.S.
ground forcesfrom 33,000 to nearly 82,000. In his report, McNamara urged
LBJ to approve the deployments promptly, in order to "bolster" South
Vietnam against an expected communist offensive, while preventing "a spectacular defeat of GVN or US forces."
Although McNamara had resisted even larger deployments at Honolulu,
he knew these posed trouble enough for the President. The number of
American troops fighting in Vietnam would jump 150 percent. This increase, coupled with the troops' new combat mission, meant inevitably
higher casualties and closer public scrutiny of the war.
The political implications seemed obvious and inescapable. McNamara
urged Johnson to inform congressional leaders about both the "contemplated deployments" and the recent "change in mission of US forces." To do
otherwise, the Secretary suggested, courted serious trouble in the future.36
LBJ, together with the other Vietnam Principals, had already gathered in
the Cabinet Room when McNamara, McNaughton, and William Bundy
arrived at 11:15 the next morning to report on the Honolulu Conference.37
McNamara began by recounting the Hawaii deliberations. "We met . . .
in a small executive session of six," he told the President, and had a "long
and probing" discussion. The upshot, McNamara explained, amounted to
this: "We need additional successes] in [the] South," and that required
vastly larger U.S. troops.
George Ball, who had been preoccupied with European affairs throughout
March and early April and therefore unaware of the recent debate over force
levels as well as Johnson's decision to change the Marines' mission, was
stunned by the proposed deployments to 82,000. "This transforms our whole
relation to the war," Ball excitedly warned. This means "a much larger
number of casualties."
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Shocked by the rush of events, Ball desperately tried to slow the escalatory
momentum. "We ought to take forty-eight hours," he blurted, playing for
time"I have a paper."
The President teased Ball about his February paper. Ball brushed LBJ's
needling aside, determined to avert this further plunge into war. The "dangers of this are great[,] if unpredictable," he reminded Johnson, adding
prophetically: "to sustain this for two years gives [me] the shudders."
"What's the alternative?" LBJ demanded to know.
"I'll write it today," Ball quickly answered.
Johnson replied with faint hope. "All right, George, I'll give you until
tomorrow morning to get me a settlement plan. If you can pull a rabbit out
of the hat, I'm all for it!"3
John McCone expected no diplomatic miraclejust more military trouble.
As he had at the April 2 NSC meeting, McCone challenged further ground
deployments without an accompanying step-up in bombing. Warning of a
"steady increase of opposition" to combat troops, the CIA director insisted
that LBJ "intensify operations against the North." Otherwise, he cautioned,
more American forces "will involve us in a situation in which we have no
definite result."
"What's the difference?" was Johnson's acid response; he was unconvinced
of bombing's effectiveness. And yet, concerned by McCone's point, LBJ now
turned to McNamara and said, "Why are they not recommending [air]
escalation?"
McNamara reiterated the decisive importance of events in the South.
What is more, he stressed, further escalation against the North "might bring
[the] Chinese in."
"[A]re we pulling away from our theory that bombing would turn 'em
off?" the President asked.
"That wasn't our theory," McNamara reminded the President. "We
wanted to lift morale" in the South, while "push[ing] [the North] toward
negotiationswe've done both," he insisted.
Johnson had doubts: Saigon remained locked in turmoil, Hanoi remained
impervious to talks, and world opinion remained hostile to bombing. How
long could he sustain this course? "Will they let us go on?" he fretted.
Ball thought not, citing a host of growing domestic and international
problems: adverse "intellectual opinion," the troubling "ambiguities" of the
Vietnam struggle, the unseemly use of "force by a big country on a little
one." "Over a period of time," Ball pointedly concluded, "our position will
get badly eroded."39
Ball amplified these warnings in the settlement plan he drafted and sent
to President Johnson that night. Ball opened his paper by stressing the
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momentous nature of the Honolulu proposals. " [Increasing our force deployments in South Viet-Nam to over 80,000 requires an important decision
of policy," he reminded the President. "This would be a quantum jump of
150 percent. It could not help but have major consequences."
Ball sketched those consequences: large-scale escalation "would multiply
our dangers and responsibilities," "transform the character of the war," "substantially increase United States' casualties," and "induce Hanoi . . . to step
up the rate of infiltration." LBJ's administration, in Ball's words, hovered
"on the threshold of a new military situation."
Before crossing that threshold, Ball cautioned Johnson "to take a hard
look at where we are going," to ponder the hazards of further escalation.
The generals wanted to continue ROLLING THUNDER, Ball wrote, yet
"[tjhere is no ... evidence that our air strikes have . . . halted or slowed
down the infiltration efforts of the North Vietnamese." The administration
wished to protect its international standing, he noted, but "[w]e cannot
continue to bomb the North and use napalm against South Vietnamese villages without a progressive erosion of our world position." The President
needed public support for an expanded military effort, Ball added, yet "large
and articulate elements in the intellectual community and other segments
of United States opinion do not believe in our South Vietnamese policy."
LBJ, in short, risked serious military and political dangers by widening
the war.
Given these dangers, Ball believed the administration dared not avoid
negotiations. He therefore urged Johnson "to test the diplomatic water"to
pursue "a settlement that falls somewhere short of the goals we have publicly stated, but that still meets our basic objectives" of an independent and
neutral South Vietnam.
Such a settlement, in Ball's judgment, meant accepting "the continued
presence in South Viet-Nam of native-born Viet Cong and . . . their participation in the political processes of the country." This arrangement was
inescapable, he stressed, because the United States could not "realistically
expect to exterminate the Viet Cong." North Vietnam, in turn, "might be
prepared to stop the infiltration and the fighting," convinced, as they were,
that "a Viet Cong party in the South" would "ultimately prevail."
Ball knew the notion of Vietcong political participation troubled many
in the administration, who feared the VC's potential violence as much as
their potential success. Yet he challenged LBJ to test America's commitment
to electoral politics:
Those who know much more about South Viet-Nam than I, advise me that i a
free election could be conducted . . . today the non-Communists would win.
If that is not the case then clearly our moral position is not what we claim it to
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be. Under those circumstances we could not honestly say that we were trying
to help the majority of the South Vietnamese achieve their heart's desire but
merely that we were trying to stop the Communists.
Whether the Vietcong would win a South Vietnamese election was uncertain;
but their participation would affirm Washington's faith in "a democratic
test of strength." And, just as important, Ball concluded, a settlement based
on this principle might avert a massive American intervention "with all the
dangers and responsibilities that entails."40
Johnson studied Ball's memo overnight. At eleven o'clock the next morning, he called in Ball and Rusk to discuss its conclusions. Ball soon realized
that he had failed to carry the day. LBJ's three top advisersMcNamara,
Rusk, and McGeorge Bundyall favored the Honolulu recommendations.
Against them stood only Ball, whose suggested alternative meant Vietcong
participation in South Vietnamese politics, perhaps leading to coalition government with the communistsan eventuality which they abhored. Ball had
failed, as he later wrote, to produce "a rabbit strong enough to fight off the
hounds of war baying at its heels."41
Johnson's reaction was as much a response to bureaucratic pressure as a
rejection of Ball's proposal. Clearly, LBJ disliked the idea of coalition government and the possible communist takeover it entailed. But he also faced
mounting Pentagon pressure. And McNamara's recommendations seemed
the minimum necessary to relieve that pressure. The Honolulu proposals
moderated the larger JCS requests Johnson wished to avoid, while forestalling the South Vietnamese collapse he dreaded.
But they also meant deeper American involvement in the war and deeper
dangers to the Great Society. Less than two weeks before, LBJ had signed
the landmark Elementary and Secondary Education Act into law, providing
$1.3 billion in schooling assistance to the poor. The administration's historic Voting Rights Act approached completion in the Senate. Johnson had
his legislation moving, and he wanted nothing to derail itin particular,
further escalation in Vietnam sapping political support for his domestic
reforms.
It was an excruciating dilemma that LBJ once again reconciled through
subterfuge. Later on April 22, Johnson approved the Honolulu recommendations. LBJ then ordered Rusk to draft a telegram informing Taylor of the
deployments.
Before transmitting the cable, Rusk sent it to the White House for Johnson's approval. LBJ okayed the telegram, but with a telling amendment. At
the end of the cable, the President inserted this message to Taylor: "it is not
our intention to announce [the] whole program now but rather to announce
individual deployments at appropriate times."42
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can lives and, only later, the danger of a communist takeover, President
Johnson ordered nearly 22,000 U.S. Marines into the Dominican Republic
beginning on April 28.
Johnson's intervention in the Dominican affair, whatever his fluctuating
justifications, rested on LBJ's determination to avoid "another Cuba." This
fear of a second Castroite regime in the Caribbean conditioned Johnson's
perception, however exaggerated, of communist influence within the rebel
movement, compelling him to intervene militarily to suppress it.
Conflicting political pressures intensified LBJ's anxieties. Johnson sensed
that American intervention courted a firestorm of Latin protest, while the
possibility of a communist takeover risked an angry domestic backlash. As
LBJ told aides at the time, "I realize I am running the risk of being called a
gunboat diplomat, but that is nothing compared to what I'd be called if the
Dominican Republic went down the drain."2
Popular reaction seemed to confirm Johnson's analysis. Despite loud criticism of LBJ's intervention both at home and abroad, a sizable majority of
the American public endorsed the President's action, Some 76 percent of
those polled approved Johnson's dispatch of Marines to the Dominican Republicmore than four times the number, 17 percent, who objected.3
The Dominican affair had rallied substantial popular support behind
President Johnson, while diverting popular attention, suddenly and unexpectedly, from Vietnam. LBJ chose this momentwhen fears of another
communist regime in the Caribbean gripped the countryto request a major
supplemental appropriation from Congress tied, ostensibly, to the Dominican Republic, but, more centrally, to Vietnam. Through skillful political
legerdemain, Johnson sought to relieve Vietnam's growing financial pressures and to foreshorten debate over escalation by linking his request to the
politically expedient issue of preventing "another Cuba."
LBJ unveiled his stratagem during a meeting with congressional leaders
in the White House East Room on the morning of May 4. Speaking to members of the House and Senate Appropriations, Foreign Affairs/Foreign Relations, and Armed Services committees, Johnson stressed the dual nature of
his proposed request. "[W]e . . . have unusual and unanticipated needs in
both the Viet-Nam theater and the Dominican Republic," LBJ told the
legislators, urging them to expedite his f 700 million supplemental spending
bill. Supporting this request meant supporting the fight against communism
in the Caribbean as well as Southeast Asia, the President seemed to suggest.4
Johnson shifted his emphasis, subtly but significantly, in a written statement to Congress later that day. In this latter message, LBJ avoided any
mention of the Dominican Republic. Instead, Johnson coupled approval of
the hastily presented spending bill to blanket endorsement of his entire
Vietnam policy. "This is not a routine appropriation," LBJ carefully noted
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of the request he had submitted just three hours before, asserting that "each
member of Congress who supports this request is also voting to persist in our
effort to halt communist aggression in South Viet-Nam."
With these words, Johnson had expanded the bill's political importance
dramatically, transforming it into a sweeping referendum similar to the
Tonkin Gulf Resolution. Yet LBJ pressed Congress to pass the appropriation "at the earliest possible moment." For "[t]o deny and delay this [measure]," Johnson warned, "means to deny and delay . . . support . . . to
those brave men who are risking their lives . . . in Viet-Nam." By demanding speedy congressional action, LBJ could ensure minimum congressional
debate over a bill which he had tied to the safety of American soldiers already in the field.5
Congress swiftly approved the President's supplemental request with only
whispers of dissent408-7 in the House; 88-3 in the Senate. The results
surprised no one; as Rhode Island Senator Claiborne Pell had remarked
several days earlier, voting against the President on a Vietnam resolution
"would be like voting against motherhood." On May 7, LBJ signed the
measure into law.8
Johnson had used the Dominican crisis to political advantage in his relations
with Congress over Vietnam. Not so, however, in his relations with domestic
liberals. LBJ's Dominican intervention had only exacerbated tensions between liberals and the President, which spilled over into heightened opposition to his Vietnam policy.
If LBJ perceived his Dominican action as necessary insurance against the
possibility of another communist regime on America's doorstep, liberals interpreted it as further disturbing evidence of Johnson's chauvinistic, "shoot
from the hip" mentality. In one brief but belligerent moment, LBJ had
violated Franklin Roosevelt's Good Neighbor principle of non-intervention
in Latin American affairs; betrayed the spirit of John Kennedy's Alliance
for Progress; and throttled whatever hopes for genuine democratic revolution had existed in the troubled Dominican Republic. Johnson's Dominican
intervention, in short, outraged American liberals.
That outrage almost inevitably provoked louder attacks against LBJ's foreign policy in general and the bombing of North Vietnam in particular.
Liberal opposition to ROLLING THUNDER mushroomed dramatically.
Vietnam critics on college and university campuses began organizing a massive "teach-in" in Washington, D.C., scheduled for mid-May. President Johnson confronted growing domestic pressure to moderate the war.
LBJ faced mounting international pressure as well. On April 24, Indian
president Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, speaking for many third-world nations,
had proposed a comprehensive cease-fire plan, which included a halt in U.S.
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be no progress toward peace while there are air attacks on North Viet-Nam,"
Rusk indicated that U.S. bombing strikes would be suspended "beginning
at noon, Washington time, Wednesday, May 12, and running into next
week." He warned, however, that if Hanoi "misunderstood" this pause "as
an indication of weakness" and failed to respond in kind, "it would be necessary to demonstrate more clearly than ever" American resolve in Southeast
Asia. After this veiled threat of future escalation, Rusk ended on a note of
conciliation, hoping that "this first pause . . . may meet with . . . equally
constructive actions by the other side. . . ."13
Rusk cabled his message to Foy Kohler, U.S. Ambassador to the Soviet
Union, instructing him to deliver it to the North Vietnamese embassy in
Moscow the next morning. Kohler tried to arrange a meeting with Hanoi's
ambassador, which his North Vietnamese counterpart rebuffed. Instead, a
lower-ranking American diplomat hand-delivered the message to Hanoi's
embassy on the evening of May 12. It was returned, without comment, the
next morning in a plain envelope marked simply "Embassy of US of A."
Although Washington received no formal response to its proposal in the
succeeding days, North Vietnamese radio broadcasts during this period revealed a subtle but intriguing shift in Hanoi's negotiating stance. This shift,
buried amid the usual anti-American rhetoric, presented an ambiguous picture, which U.S. intelligence analysts, viewing with customary suspicion,
perhaps overlooked or misinterpreted.
Ever since Pham Van Dong's April 8 speech before the North Vietnamese
National Assembly, Hanoi had held rigidly to its "Four Points" peace formula, the "third point" of whichand most objectionable to Washingtondemanded the governmental reorganization of South Vietnam according to
the Vietcong's political program. Premier Dong himself had repeated this
condition, almost verbatim, during an interview in Hungary on April 20.
"The problem of South Vietnam," he had stated then, "must be solved by
the people of South Vietnam themselves in accordance with the program of
the NLFSV" (emphasis added).14
Hanoi's Vietnamese News Agency (VNA) had broadcast similar declarations over the following weeks. On April 29, it had quoted as "the unchangeable stand of the DRV Government" that "the South Vietnamese people
settle their own affairs in accordance with the program of the NFLSV" (emphasis added). On May 4, the VNA had announced that "the affairs of South
Vietnam should be governed by the people of South Vietnam themselves
without foreign interference and in conformity with the program of the
NLFSV" (emphasis added). While on May 6, it had demanded that Washington "let the South Vietnamese people settle themselves their own affairs
in accordance with the program of the National Liberation Front" (emphasis added). This insistence on a Vietcong-defined government in Saigon re-
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On May 12, LBJ had sent Lieutenant General Andrew Goodpaster, his
liaison with ex-President Eisenhower, to Gettysburg, to solicit Ike's reaction
to the upcoming bombing halt. As a former military officer and Republican
officeholder, Eisenhower represented those constituencies that had been
urging Johnson to take tougher action against North Vietnam.
During their meeting in Ike's Gettysburg farmhouse that afternoon,
Goodpaster told Eisenhower about the secret bombing pause. Ike, in turn,
expressed general support for Johnson's plan. But he also pressed LBJ,
through Goodpaster, to intensify the bombing if Hanoi failed to respond. In
that case, Eisenhower urged hitting North Vietnam heavily from the outset,
using "everything that can fly."18
Johnson confronted more evidence, several days later, which deepened his
anxiety over conservative opposition to the bombing suspension. On May 16,
the Gallup organization released a poll gauging popular attitudes toward
the bombing. The survey revealed widespread support for ROLLING
THUNDER: 59 percent of the respondents favored continuing the bombing
of North Vietnamnearly three times the number, 21 percent, who wanted
it to stop. And this during the very week of LBJ's bombing halt.19
These considerations weighed heavily on Johnson's mind when, on Sunday evening, May 16, he met with several of his top advisers in the Oval
Office to discuss resumption of ROLLING THUNDER.20
LBJ seemed anxious to renew the bombing quickly, "I thought we were
going to pause only five days," he told his aides, referring to the minimum
proposed halt. McNamara, however, urged a delay. "To achieve the proper
objective," he said, "we should go seven days"until Wednesday, May 19.
Not only would this extend the opportunity for Hanoi to respond, it would
also "answer [the New York] Times" which, McNamara noted, had "wanted
us to take a week."
Liberal pressures were the least of Johnson's current concerns. He felt no
urgency to answer the New York Times, nor his academic critics, whose
much-publicized Washington, D.C., "teach-in" was just hours away. "I
would do it Monday [May 17]," LBJ repeated.
McNamara, still seeking an extension, proposed a compromise. "We could
start again on Tuesday evening [May 18] our time," he suggested, making
the pause just over six days.
Johnson still hesitated to postpone resumption. "If there was going to be
any interest on the part of Hanoi," he remarked, "we ought to have the reaction by now." "You gave them notice on Tuesday [May 11]," LBJ said,
turning to Rusk, therefore "Monday will be six days."
But Johnson finally yielded to McNamara's request. "If you want to start
the bombing on Tuesday," he told his Secretary of Defense, "that's okay."
LBJ had no intention, however, of revealing his MAYFLOWER initiative
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can forces, but you admit that the concrete realization will be linked to the
conclusions of a negotiation?" "Exactly," answered Bo, stressing that this was
his government's view, not just his own. If there were agreement on the
"basis," Bo added, the "ways and means" of application of "principles"
could be achieved diplomatically. A "way out" for the United States should
be found, he said, noting that "our suggestion humiliates no one."23
Bo's interpretation of the "Four Points" seemed frustratingly ambiguous.
He had denied that they were preconditions for bilateral talks, yet had suggested their adoption as "working principles." He had hinted at Hanoi's
bargaining flexibility, yet had alluded to the "Four Points" as the "basis"
of any settlement. He had implied North Vietnam's interest in negotiations,
but as a prelude to American withdrawal.
Bo's demarche may simply have reflected an effort to maintain France's
interest in a diplomatic settlement and, thus, France's pressure on the
United States to moderate its Vietnam policy. Yet his approach to Manac'h,
together with Hanoi's softening of its "third point" through VNA broadcasts, may also have reflected efforts to begin serious negotiations with
Washington. But Washington read both Bo's remarks and North Vietnam's
radiocasts skeptically, even cynically. "My total impression," William Bundy
confided to a friend a short time later, echoing a common feeling among his
colleagues, "is that it was a cute diplomatic maneuver designed to muddy
the waters." Such thinking discouraged Washington from perceiving, much
less pursuing, these tantalizing overtures.24
If the United States had overlooked possible North Vietnamese openings,
Hanoi soon closed them tightly. Apparently angered by Washington's disregard of its moderated "third point," Hanoi reverted to its original position
on May 22. That day, the VNA broadcast an unyielding "third point" similar to Pham Van Dong's initial stance. "The only solution," North Vietnam's news agency now announced, "is that the United States must . . . let
the South Vietnamese people themselves settle their own affairs according to
the [National Liberation] [F]ront's political program" (emphasis added).
Washington and Hanoi seemed back to square one.28
Whether MAYFLOWER represented an important missed opportunity
seems doubtful. Though the United States probably misjudged North Vietnam's reaction to the pause, underestimating its diplomatic flexibility, the
gap between their basic positions remained formidable. Washington had
sought, through its bombing pause, to secure a reciprocal communist ceasefireno bombing of North Vietnam in return for no North Vietnamese or
Vietcong military operations. Yet under this arrangement, the United States
would continue its own military efforts in South Vietnam.
This formula doubtlessly appeared lopsided to Hanoi, even if it could
have compelled a complete VC stand-down, which was unlikely. Washington
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had asked North Vietnam and the Vietcong to cease their activities in the
Southto forfeit their strongest bargaining chipwhile the United States
surrendered only half its chipsthe air war against the North. Even American officials recognized the imbalance of this proposal. To expect "the
DRV/VC to halt all of their activities in exchange for a cessation of only
one-half of the US/GVN activities," John McNaughton wrote McGeorge
Bundy before the pause even began, "is asking 'a horse for a rabbit.' "26
North Vietnam, for its part, had manifested a curious ambivalence toward
negotiations. VNA broadcasts during the bombing halt had implied a softening of Hanoi's position. Yet Bo's subsequent comments to Manac'h suggested
a tougher stancea willingness to talk with Washington, but only about the
timing of a U.S. pullout from South Vietnam. In May 1965, North Vietnam
remained confident of ultimate victory in the South, and thus willing to
discuss little more than a face-saving American withdrawal.
For President Johnson, mid-May 1965 marked a period of deepening pessimism over Vietnam, punctuated by growing anxiety about the political
repercussions of the war. The failure of MAYFLOWER, together with
accelerating troop requests, had intensified pressures to widen the war. A
wider war, In turn, increased the dangers to LBJ's Great Society, by draining
congressional attention and popular support from his domestic reforms.
Racked by these conflicting military and political pressures, Johnson
turned to an old and trusted friend, Clark Clifford, for advice. Clifford, a
savvy Washington insider whose political experience spanned three Democratic administrations over nearly twenty years, understood the capital, the
Congress, and the Presidency better than anyone, perhaps, except Lyndon
Johnson. And he could understand LBJ's concerns.
Beginning his career as a St. Louis courtroom lawyer defending indigents
in criminal cases from a corner table in his firm's law library, Clifford had
arrived in Washington in the summer of 1945, as assistant naval aide to
fellow Missourian Harry Truman. Within a year, Clifford's remarkable
political talents had vaulted him into Truman's closest circle as special
presidential counsel. There, Clifford had helped shape many important policies during an exceptionally important era of American history. In the
spring of 1947, he had co-authored Truman's message to Congress enunciating the containment doctrine. The following year, he had participated in
deliberations leading to U.S. recognition of Israel, as well as charting the
election strategyincluding the famous "whistle-stop" tourculminating in
Truman's stunning upset of Republican Thomas Dewey.
Retiring to a lucrative corporate law practice during the Eisenhower
fifties, Clifford had maintained close ties to the Democratic opposition in
Congress, including Senators John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson.
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145
May 7, a military tribunal had passed death sentences against General Phat
and Colonel Thaostill on the runalong with stiff prison terms against
several of their confederates. South Vietnam's Catholics resented these measures, growing more hostile and rebellious toward the government. Rumors
of another Catholic-organized coup mounted, threatening to disrupt Quat's
delicately balanced coalition and bringing ARVN's war effort to a standstill.
A South Vietnamese commentator summed up the situation well. "In a
way," he said, "after all the pent-up years under the French and . . . Diem,
we are like children letting off steam. Maybe there will have to be yet another half-dozen coups before we settle downeven though we know we
can't afford them."28
By early May 1965, Catholic leaders, again in league with the elusive
Colonel Thao, began plotting to destabilize Quat's fragile government. They
even approached the wily Buddhist leader, Thich Tarn Chau, urging a
"hands-off" policy toward their planned coup, so that Catholics and Buddhists might unite in "religious understanding" to create a new regime.
Chau, not surprisingly, spurned the overture, but he also withheld mentioning it during a subsequent meeting with the Prime Minister.29
From his hideout in Saigon, Thao organized the coup. The covert Vietcong agent, together with his eager but unsuspecting Catholic allies, planned
to assassinate Premier Quat, kidnap Air Vice-Marshal Ky and General
Nguyen Chanh Thithe powerful Buddhist commander of ARVN's northern I Corpsand proclaim a new government headed by Khanh's old rival,
General Duong Van Minh. Saigon police, however, learned of the revolt. On
May 20, government forces raided the plotters' headquarters, arresting
nearly forty military and civilian officials. The coup had been averted.30
But Quat's troubles had not. Within days, discontented Catholics, implacably hostile to Quat, provoked a new political crisis designed to bring
down his government. In this effort, they enlisted the help of Chief of State
Suu, whose ambition to supplant Quat paralleled the Catholics' desire to
oust him.
Phan Khac Suu possessed a reputation for integrity and nonpartisanship
seemingly above South Vietnam's swirling factional rivalries. Yet his frail
stature and dignified manner masked a cunning political acumen and thirsty
personal aspirations. Appointed Chief of State in late October 1964, Suu had
maintained his position as first Huong, then Khanh (through Oanh), and
now Quat struggled to control affairs as Prime Minister of South Vietnam.
As the opposition to each mounted, the Chief of State had remained carefully neutral: avoiding conflict with Khanh, the Young Turks, and the
Buddhists as they undermined Huong; with the Young Turks as they, in
turn, outmaneuvered Khanh; with Colonel Thao and his compatriots as
they plotted against Quat. All the while, Suu had steadily enhanced his own
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power as Chief of State. And with Quat now weakened, Suu sensed an
opportunity to assert his primacy within the government.31
The crisis which Suu and his Catholic allies engineered to topple Quat
involved cabinet changes aimed, ironically, at answering Catholic charges of
underrepresentation in the government. On the morning of May 25, Quat
privately approached the Chief of State, revealing plans to dismiss five
ineffectual ministers, whose replacements would give his cabinet greater
regional and religious balance. Quat wanted Suu's endorsement of the
proposed changes before submitting them to the National Legislative Council (NLC)South Vietnam's interim legislaturefor approval. The Chief of
State expressed no reservations.32
Suu expressed very different sentiments to Ambassador Taylor later that
day. Suu now challenged the proposed changes, claiming that the provisional
charter did not explicitly empower Quat to replace cabinet ministers. Taylor
pointed out, rightly, that the charter was vague on this point; that previous
premiers had appointed and dismissed officials at their pleasure; and that a
constitutional confrontation over this issue needlessly jeopardized South
Vietnam's already precarious political stability. Could Quat count on Suu's
cooperation? Taylor asked. "Yes," the Chief of State finally remarked.33
The NLC also tried to diffuse Suu's brewing showdown with the Prime
Minister. A delegation of legislative leaders visited the Chief of State that
evening. They told Suu that the NLC supported Quat's interpretation of
the provisional charter. The Chief of State again seemed accommodating. If
the legislators incorporated their views in a formal resolution, Suu pledged
to sign it.
The NLC therefore convened that night, prepared a resolution endorsing
Quat's position, and approved it unanimously. They presented the resolution to Suu the next morning. The Chief of State refused to sign it.34
Quat, meanwhile, hesitated to confront Suu's growing intransigence. In
part, this reflected his natural reticence, which bred an "instinctive fear of
confrontations and tests of strength," as Ambassador Taylor had once observed. But it also reflected Quat's political quandry. If he bowed to pressure
from Suu and his Catholic allies, Quat risked alienating the Buddhists; if he
resisted Suu, the military might intervene to break the deadlock, and stay to
run affairs itself.35
For Quatdespite his recent troubles with Suuhad been leery of the
general's intentions since the day he became Prime Minister. The Young
Turks had never ceased meddling in political affairs, nor renounced their
self-proclaimed right to police the government. They remained restlessly ambitious, poised to exploit any divisions among civilian leaders.
To save his government, Quat decided to confront the Chief of State privately. They met at Gia Long Palace on the evening of June 1. Standing
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beneath the whirring fans and gilded cornices of Suu's office, Quat rebuked
the Chief of State for his obstinacy, which, Quat warned, jeopardized the
future of civilian rule. Suu appeared contrite and cooperative. His objections were "really not very important," the Chief of State insisted, and could
be "readily resolved." If Quat composed a letter requesting the ministers'
resignations, Suu promised to sign it.
So Quat, like the NLC a week before, prepared the necessary papers and
sent them to Suu the following day. And the Chief of State, like a week
before, signed nothing.38
Incredibly, Quat tried once more. This time, on June 4, the Prime Minister spoke bluntly. Unless he and Suu resolved their problemsproblems
which Quat blamed squarely on Suuhe predicted the generals would impose a solution on them. That meant the return of military rule.37
Apparently swayed by Quat's warning, Suu agreed to compromise. At a
meeting with the Prime Minister and the NLC later that afternoon, the
Chjef of State promised to withdraw his opposition to Quat's cabinet changes.
Quat, in return, promised no further changes pending the NLC's amendment of the provisional charter.38
The next day, June 5, Quat prepared a decree summarizing their bargain,
which he sent to Gia Long for Suu's signature. The Chief of State reneged
yet again. This time, Suu dropped all pretenses. He publicly denounced the
Prime Minister, asserting that he had agreed only to leave the matter to the
NLC. The Chief of State now told visitors that "Quat must go."39
Suu's duplicity and intransigence succeeded. With his government paralyzed and his credibility seriously weakened, Prime Minister Quat resigned
on June 11, yielding control to the military.
Phan Huy Quat's departure marked the end of South Vietnam's eightmonth-old experiment in civilian government. Quat, whose tenure had outlasted both Huong's and Oanh's, had nevertheless failed, like his predecessors, to contain the generals' ambitions while balancing the country's ethnic,
political, and regional rivalries. A man committed to healing South Vietnam's destructive divisions, he had ironically fallen victim to those very
divisions. His moderation and restraint, as Ambassador Taylor sadly noted
during Quat's final days in office, had proved "an almost fatal posture in the
arena of jugular-vein politics in Saigon."40
The generals who assumed control of the government proved particularly
adept in this arena. Following Quat's resignation, the Young Turks quickly
abolished all vestiges of civilian rule. They annulled the provisional charter
and disbanded the interim legislature. In place of these institutions, the
military created a new "War Cabinet" headed by two powerfully ambitious
but mutually distrustful figures: Nguyen Van Thieu and Nguyen Cao Ky.
Nguyen Van Thieu, appointed chairman of the Military Leadership Com-
148
mittee (MLC)in effect, South Vietnam's new Chief of Statewas an intelligent, aspiring, and opportunistic officer with a special flair for political
intrigue.
Born into a Buddhist family in the central Vietnamese coastal province
of Phamrong in 1923, Thieu had early adopted his French colonizers'
Catholicism and social customs. He had studied at French missionary schools
both in Hue and abroad, returning to fight alongside Foreign Legionnaires
against the Vietminh during the Indochina War. After the Geneva Accords,
Thieu had joined Diem's army, where his aggressive leadership and military
skills earned him rapid promotions. U.S. military advisers who worked with
Thieu during these years had frequently noted his extraordinary professional ability.
They had also noted Thieu's extraordinary political ambitions and appetite for personal advancement, which had increased along with Diem's unpopularity in the late 1950s and early 1960s. In the fall of 1963, Thieu had
joined the military cabal which overthrew and assassinated Diem.
Thieu's participation in the coup against Diem had vaulted him into the
top echelons of South Vietnam's army, whose dizzying factional rivalries had
afforded Thieu a matchless education in political intrigue. Nguyen Khanh,
a master at this competition, had enlisted Thieu's support when he launched
his own revolt against the post-Diem junta in late January 1964.
Once in power, Khanh had eyed Thieu warily. Here was an equally skillful intriguer, whose political loyalties seemed suspiciously flexible. When
rumors of a coup against the general mounted in early September 1964,
Khanh had instinctively demanded Thieu's pledge of support. Thieu had
given it unequivocally. Nine days later, on September 13, Catholic military
officerswhom the CIA linked to Thieuhad moved against Khanh. Thieu,
however, had remained carefully aloof; when the rebellion began to sputter,
Thieu had broadcast a public denunciation of the uprising, thus saving his
position.
In the following months, Khanh's influence had diminished, forcing him
into greater reliance on Thieu and the other Young Turks. In January 1965,
he had promoted Thieu to major general and designated him liaison with
American military forces. The next month, Thieu had been appointed Defense Minister under Quat.
Thieu, meanwhile, had continued his personal maneuvering; the CIA
believed he had simultaneously been backing Colonel Thao's plot against
Khanh. When Thao launched his revolt on February 19, Thieu had again
kept a clever distance. The coup had failed, but it had also triggered
Khanh's ousterthrusting the Young Turks, including Thieu, into control
of the military at last.41
Thieu's counterpart as the new Prime Minister of South Vietnam, Nguyen
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Cao Ky, shared Thieu's affinity for political intrigue, punctuated by a remarkably flamboyant persona.
A native northern Vietnamese Buddhist born in 1930, Ky had also joined
France's colonial military as a young man in the early 1950s. He had become
a pilot and, after 1954, an officer in the South Vietnamese Air Force (VNAF).
Ky's personal daring and outspoken opposition to Diem had attracted considerable support among fellow VNAF pilots. Under his leadership, they
had played a crucial role in deposing Diem.
In return, Ky had been awarded command of the VNAF, which he had
shrewdly used to support Khanh, while quietly building the power to challenge him. In September 1964, Ky's planes had intervened to thwart the
attempted coup against Khanh. In December, he had participated in Khanh's
dissolution of the High National Council. In January 1965, he had helped
Khanh topple Prime Minister Huong. And then, in February, he had conspired with Thieu and the other Young Turks to supplant Khanh.
Ky, generally deemed the leader of the Young Turks, symbolized the
grasping aspirations of these second-echelon commanders. Many Vietnamese
and American observersincluding Nguyen Khanhconsidered him an impetuous, overly aggressive, and irresponsible officer, whose political sophistication ran well behind his military valor. Deputy Ambassador Johnson
considered Ky "an unguided missile," while Johnson's superior, Maxwell
Taylor, described him as "a gallant, flamboyant airman with a well-developed penchant for speaking out of turn."*2
Such characterizations stemmed from Ky's personal demanor. In private,
Ky drank, gambled, and womanized heavily; while married to his first wife,
he had toted an ivory-handled pistol carved with his name and that of his
favorite prostitute. In public, Ky sported a zipper-studded black flying-suit,
complete with lavender ascot and twin pearl-handled revolvers, which he
wore on both bombing missions against the North and private excursions
throughout the South aboard his purple turboprop.43
Ky's outspokenness matched his ostentation. "People ask me who my
heroes are," he told an interviewer in his bright blue-curtained office at
Tansonhut airbase shortly before becoming Premier. "I have only oneHitler." "I admire Hitler because he pulled his country together," Ky said.
"But the situation here is so desperate now that one man would not be
enough." "We need four or five Hitlers in Vietnam," he remarked.44
To intelligent South Vietnamese observers like Quat's chief of staff, Bui
Diem, such comments reinforced the image of Thieu and Ky "as trigger
happy, intemperate individuals with no discernible concept of government."
To the Americans in Saigon, such as Ambassador Taylor, Ky's and Thieu's
rise to power seemed an inevitable, if regrettable, expression of the Young
Turks' political arrivalone which Taylor hoped might at least bring
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fought for months. South Vietnam's unraveling situation was rapidly overwhelming the ambassador's calculations and doubts.
A similar process affected those gathered in the Secretary of State's dining
room far above Foggy Bottom that Saturday afternoon. Rusk had summoned
McNamara, Thompson, the Bundy brothers, and Ball to ponder the implications of Taylor's message.
They brooded together for several minutes when, suddenly and unexpectedly, President Johnson entered the room. "Lady Bird is away, I was all
alone, and I heard you fellows were getting together, so I thought I'd come
over," LBJ said, pulling a chair up to the table. The others told him about
Taylor's cable. Johnson reacted swiftly.
"Who sees our purpose and [the] means of achieving it?" LBJ tensely
asked. "How do we ever expect to win? How do you expect to wind this
thing up?"
Rusk offered the most hopeful scenario. But his answer, like those of the
others, echoed Johnson's own, deep uncertainty. "We're trying . . . to stop
infiltration from t[he] North, . . . to demonstrate that [their] current effort
will not succeed."
McNamara countered with his usual realism. "We're looking for no more
than a stalemate in the South. Can we achieve a stalemate in the South?"
The room silent, McNamara laid everyone's doubt on the table: "[The
communists] still think they're winning."
The President listened to this with growing anxiety. "We are trying to do
everything we know how to do, aren't we?" he asked, unsettled by South
Vietnam's gathering crisis. LBJ seemed troubled and pensivedeeply wary
of what lay ahead. "[The] great danger," he concluded darkly, "is we'll pick
up a very big problem any day."51
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The mood in the Oval Office was bleak, reflecting policymakers' deepening apprehensions. South Vietnam appeared to be crumbling rapidly, with
the only antidote a massive injection of U.S. troops. McNamara forcefully
summarized the group's anxiety. "We're in a hell of a mess," a mess that he,
like the others, was unsure how to solve.
LBJ seemed especially bitter. For weeks, he had been exploring diplomatic
channelsfirst through his Johns Hopkins speech, then through the MAYFLOWER initiative. Yet Hanoi and the Vietcong had only intensified their
military efforts. "[T]he more I've done," Johnson snapped, "the less they've
responded."
Which seemed all too predictable, given Saigon's quickening decline. The
communists, sensing triumph in the South, were pressing their advantage.
ARVN, meanwhile, continued to sag under what Taylor described as woefully "bad leadership" and a "poor control of desertion." Without major
U.S. intervention, South Vietnam's collapse appeared certain.
McNamara then spelled out Westmoreland's proposed deployments. In
all, they "would lead to 170,000 [U.S. troops] in four to six months," he
said.
The figure jolted Ball. "Is this the French Result?" he worried aloudthe
beginning of America's own long and exhausting Indochina war?
LBJ wondered himself, but muttered: "Can you stop it?"
Bundy, too, expressed troubling doubts. "[A]re [we] opening an unlimited
account?" he askedthis on behalf of a "straight military" government?
Taylor had no illusions, thanks to Khanh, the Young Turks, and, most
recently, Suu. "There will always be a straight military government," he
flatly predicted.
Yet Taylor still clung to the enclave strategy. "We can always hold [the]
cities and [the] coastal plain," he told the President, thereby preventing
South Vietnam's collapse while limiting American deployments.
Bundy agreed. Holding selected areas throughout the South seemed "a
real possibility" to him.
"Bus, what do you think?" Johnson said, turning to General Wheeler.
The idea of 170,000 U.S. troops fighting on the Asian mainland troubled
Wheeler, but so did gainsaying Westmoreland, the commander on the spot.
"We don't like it," he confessed, speaking for the Joint Chiefs, "but Westy
needs it."
And what did McNamara think? LBJ asked. Whether holding all of South
Vietnam or just selected enclaves, the Secretary of Defense believed "we
need most of these troops to do any of these things."
Johnson pondered his advisers' suggestions, but decided nothing. Westmoreland's request meant making America the principal combatant defending South Vietnam. LBJ hesitated to make that decision. Instead, he in-
155
strutted Bundy at the end of the meeting to "[s]ee what alternatives" existedto see where else America might "make [its] stand" in Southeast Asia.8
As the pressure for major deployments mounted on Johnson, so did popular
skepticism over his Vietnam pronouncements. Ever since LBJ's secret April 1
decision changing the mission of U.S. forces from base security to active
combat, the President had been slowly losing his struggle to conceal this
shift in strategy. As more American troops had arrived in South Vietnam
throughout April and May, reporters had increasingly questioned Washington's description of their mission. Journalists visiting the airbase at Danang
could see that the Marines' widening patrols belied administration explanations of "base security."
They therefore began pressing U.S. officials about the Marines' precise
mission. On April 9, reporters had grilled MACV's spokesman about imminent Marine landings at Phubai and Danang. Are these "going to be
purely security troops?" they had asked. "Yes," the spokesman had replied.
But the reporters, skeptical, had persisted. On June 5, correspondents at
the State Department had sought clarification of the U.S. military mission.
The Department's response: "American troops have been sent [to] South
Vietnam recently with the mission of protecting key installations there."4
The contradictions and denials finally ended on June 8. That day, State
Department spokesman Robert McCloskey publicly confirmed the change
in mission which President Johnson had secretly approved more than two
months before. Under questioning from New York Times reporter John
Finney, this exchange occurred:
FINNEY: Let me ask one other question. What you are saying means that the
decision has been made in Washington as a matter of policy that if Westmoreland receives a request for U.S. forces in Viet-Nam to give combat support to
Vietnamese forces he has the power to make the decision?
MCCLOSKEY: That is correct.
FINNEY: Could you give us any understanding . . . as to when Westmoreland
got this additional authority?
MCCLOSKEY: I couldn't be specific but it is something that has developed over
the past several weeks.5
The announcement provoked a storm of controversy, which the White
House tried to quell with a "clarifying" statement the next day. That morning, presidential spokesman George Reedy told reporters that "[t]here has
been no change in the mission of United States ground combat units in Viet
Nam in recent days or weeks. The President has issued no order of any kind
in this regard to General Westmoreland recently or at any other time. The
primary mission of these troops is to secure and safeguard important military
156
installations, like the air base at Da Nang." On the other hand, Reedy
added later, "General Westmoreland also has authority within the assigned
mission to employ these troops in support of Vietnamese forces faced with
aggressive attack . . . when, in his judgment, the general military situation
urgently requires it." The White House statement was, as Westmoreland
himself later observed, "a masterpiece of obliquity."6
This effort to stem the rising controversy through ambiguity failed. Voices
in the media and Congress only intensified their criticism of Vietnam policy
and Johnson's handling of it. On the day of Reedy's press statement, the
New York Times editorialized:
The American people were told by a minor State Department official yesterday
that, in effect, they were in a land war on the continent of Asia. This is only
one of the extraordinary aspects of the first formal announcement that a decision has been made to commit Amercan ground forces to open combat in South
Vietnam: the nation is informed about it not by the President, nor by a Cabinet member, not even by a sub-Cabinet official, but by a public relations officer.7
157
turned to his old Senate friend Mike Mansfield once again, seeking help on
his Vietnam predicament.
Johnson telephoned Mansfield on the night of June 8. LBJ told the majority leader about Westmoreland's request, which he had discussed with his
advisers that morning. What would Mansfield do? Johnson asked. How
would he answer the general?
Mansfield, who had prepared a memorandum on Vietnam for LBJ several
days before, sent this and another one to Johnson on June 9. In them, Mansfield beseeched the President to avoid further escalation, to resist "pressures
for an irreversible extension of the war in Asia." Now was the moment. For
"[t]he rate of commitment is accelerating," he warned Johnson, "and a
course once set in motion, as you know, often develops its own momentum
and rationale whatever the initial intentions."
Mansfield felt that course flowed directly from LBJ's earlier bombing
decisiona decision urged on him by Taylor, McNamara, and McGeorge
Bundy as a way to bolster Saigon politically. These men and their recommendation, the majority leader contended, should be called to reckoning:
I think it is about time you got an accounting from those who have pressured
you in the past to embark on this course and continue to pressure you to stay
on it. ... What was promised by the initial extension of the war in the air
over the North? And what, in fact, has it produced to date?
Mansfield believed that it had led to only greater escalatory pressures, combined with quickening political deterioration in the South. As a result, the
President now faced a request for major U.S. forces "at a time when the last
semblance of constituted government (the Quat group) . . . is disappearing"a plea to save South Vietnam when "there is not a government to
speak of in Saigon."
Mansfield implored Johnson to confront this reality by confronting difficult and painful questions: "In what direction are we going in Viet
Nam? . . . What do we mean when we say we are going to stay in South
Viet Nam and for what specific . . . ends are we going to stay there?" Such
questions, as recent events ominously attested, would be "asked increasingly
at home no less than abroad," the senator warned.
Mansfield's own answer to these questions remained unchanged. "As I see
it, ... there are no significant American interests which dictate [a] ...
massive, unilateral American military effort to control the flow of events in
Vie[t] Nam," he wrote. U.S. stakes were limited. And Mansfield urged LBJ
to keep them so, by approving "the minimum military effort . . . necessary
to hold the situation in the South from falling apart altogether and a maximum initiative on our part to get this whole sorry business to a conference
table as soon as possible."
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Yet the majority leader specifically counseled Johnson against seeking another congressional resolution sanctioning the commitment of additional
ground forces. He feared that such a request, given recent disclosures over
the change in troop mission, "could set off a wave of criticism and . . .
demands for inquiries" severely damaging the President. LBJ's earlier furtiveness, the, senator implied, now paradoxically constrained his political
forthrightness.10
Mansfield's warnings remained very much on Johnson's mind as he convened another meeting on Westmoreland's request the next morning.11
McNamara opened the session by reviewing Westmoreland's proposal.
Mindful of LBJ's reluctance to deepen the commitment, he tried to estimate
the minimum forces necessary to forestall South Vietnam's collapse. McNamara figured roughly 95,000, or eighteen battalionsslightly more than
half the general's requested thirty-two. This "would . . . cut out fourteen
battalions," he told the President, but it would also "avoid too large an
escalation."
Rusk endorsed this figure, as did Taylor, who urged Johnson to dispatch
the forces "rapidly" in order to check further losses during the monsoon
season.
Yet LBJ resisted even this reduced number. "Why must we do it?" he
demanded.
Taylor, sensing Johnson's hesitation, spoke bluntly. "If we don't," the
ambassador warned, "we may lose [more] territory."
Still, LBJ demurred. "Don't you think it will be read as [a] 'land war in
Asia'?" he asked, adding insistently, "we have to explain this not thatnot a
Korean War."
The thought of another Korea weakening the presidency, dividing Congress, and frustrating the country shook Johnson. But so, too, did growing
complaints about his Vietnam actions and candor with the public.
"Is there any question about [my] authority powers [as] commander-inchief?" LBJ asked Rusk.
"None," the Secretary of State responded, citing "SEATO, the Southeast
Asia Resolution, the"
How about Congress, Johnson interrupted, glancing at Senator Russell,
"Have we kept 'em informed?"
"Yes we have," Rusk asserted.
Abruptly, LBJ shifted to the situation in South Vietnam. Would larger
deployments stoke "anti-Americanism" among the populace, he asked, encouraging a "slackening off" of national resolve?
Taylor agreed that Washington must "watch for [the] 'take over' " effect.
But he considered further deployments essential, in order to save the situation and give "Westy a lever" in the field.
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Johnson remained wary. "What if we don't do this?" he remarked, doggedly resisting the escalation. "Would we get [more] losses with what we've
got?"
Again, Taylor pressed LBJ. To deny Westmoreland's request, he warned,
meant "[w]e could lose a provincelose territorylose towns."
Those prospects concerned Johnson, but the thought of an open-ended
commitment made him groan: "Will [these troops] lead to more?" he wondered aloud. "How do we extricate ourselves!"
Taylor tried to assuage LBJ's anxiety. "If we can stalemate [the Vietcong's] monsoon [offensive]," he said, then ARVN could "go back in strong"
during the fall, forestalling the need for additional U.S. forces.
Johnson, however, worried about this immediate request and the heavier
casualties it entailed. What losses did Westmoreland's figure imply? he
wanted to know, "400 [or] 4000?"
McNamara predicted a doubling of current casualties"another 400 between now and [the first of] October."
Johnson anguished over the figures; he wanted negotiations, not escalation. Speaking to Rusk of the overtures to discussion he had made at Johns
Hopkins on April 7, he asked whether "we had any DRV responses."
"No," the Secretary replied, "and we don't expect "em." Hanoi and the
Vietcong sensed their advantage, Rusk told the President, and therefore saw
no need to negotiate.
LBJ felt angry and trappedcaught between Westmoreland's demand for
more troops and the communists' unwillingness to bargain away their anticipated victory. More than ever, he felt locked on a treacherous course, one
which Mansfield had told him flowed from his advisers' earlier bombing
recommendation.
The thought nagged Johnson, whose temper suddenly flared. "What is
the answer to the argument that the bombing has had no results?" LBJ
demanded to know.
"We never thought it would bring them running," Rusk said, following
up, however, with the suggestion that bombing had had a "good . . . effect
on military and civilian" morale.
"[T]he pause?" Johnson continued.
It had blunted opposition to ROLLING THUNDER, McNamara noted,
without silencing public criticism.
Well, "[w]hat do they want now?" the President snorted.
The public wants to know "[w]here you are taking us," McNamara said.
"[That] is the question."
"Therefore?" LBJ shot back.
"I'd recommend more explanation," McNamara said, making clear just
what the administration intended.
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it "calls for deploying fewer troops now than either General Westmoreland
or the Joint Chiefs recommend." Carefully avoiding specific numbers,
Wheeler pressed Johnson to send the "troops recommended by General
Westmoreland."
LBJ carefully deflected Wheeler. "We must delay and deter the North
Vietnamese and Viet Cong as much as we can, and as simply as we can,
without going all out," he said, for "[w]hen we grant Westmoreland's request, it means we get in deeper and it is harder to get out." Johnson's intention was clear: "We must determine which course gives us the maximum
protection at the least cost."14
This remark underscored LBJ's struggle to balance conflicting pressures
to commit enough forces to save South Vietnam, but not so many as to spark
further escalation or renewed congressional debate. It was a precarious balance, fraught with difficulties and dangers.
Johnson hinted at his dilemma to an interviewer shortly afterward. Henry
Graff, a Columbia University historian studying LBJ's decision-making
process, arrived at the Oval Office moments after the NSC meeting ended.
The President, standing in the doorway scanning a newspaper, greeted Graff
and motioned him toward the fireplace sofa, next to his rocker.
Graff opened by querying Johnson about Vietnam. LBJ gestured toward
his desk several feet away. On it, he said, lay a request from General Westmoreland for additional forces. The President spoke uncertainly about that
request. "What will be enough and not too much?" he mused.
LBJ's sullenness matched his uncertainty. "I know the other side is winning; so they do, too," he said, adding glumly, "No man wants to trade when
he's winning." Johnson felt no choice, he told Graff, but "to apply the
maximum deterrent till [Ho] sobers up and unloads his pistol."
LBJ had spoken like a frontier sheriff. But his tough words guarded deep
anxieties. Just the night before, Johnson said, he had lain awake thinking
how he would feel "if my President told me that my children had to go to
South Vietnam in a Marine company . . . and possibly die." The thought
was anguishing. "And no one knows this better than I do," he said.
But LBJ sensed no escape from his dilemmatrapped, as he felt, between
the military pitfalls of escalation and the political pitfalls of withdrawal.
Johnson explained his predicament vividly. "When I land troops they call
me an interventionist," the President moaned, "and if I do nothing I'll be
impeached."
And his Great Society seemed imperiled, too. For LBJ well remembered
the fall of China and its devastating impact on the Fair Deal. Yet he also
remembered World War I's impact on the New Freedom and World War
II's on the New Deal. Reform demanded tranquility, and Johnson wanted
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this desperately. "God knows peace would be so sweet to us," he told Graft
before ending the interview.15
Instead, the next few days brought more news of South Vietnam's deterioration and, with it, more pressure to commit additional forces. On June 10,
the Vietcong launched a massive attack against Dongxoai, a district capital
of Phuoclong province, sixty miles north of Saigon. Striking in unusually
large numbers, the VC mauled two local South Vietnamese battalions, and
nearly annihilated another three sent to relieve them. By June 14, when
Vietcong forces finally withdrew, ARVN had sustained heavy lossesover
900 killed, the highest casualties ever suffered in a single engagement.
These reverses impelled Westmoreland to step up his demands for larger
forces. On June 13, the general again cabled Washington, urging prompt
approval of his requested deployments. "The VC are destroying [ARVN]
battalions faster than they can be reconstituted and faster than they were
planned to be organized under the buildup program," Westmoreland
warned. "It is MACV's considered opinion," he anxiously added, "that
RVNAF cannot stand up to this pressure without substantial US combat
support on the ground."16
As LBJ wrestled with Westmoreland's latest cable, he sent General Goodpaster to Gettysburg to seek former President Eisenhower's advice on the
recommended deployments. Goodpaster met Ike at his Pennsylvania farmhouse on the morning of June 16. He began by describing ARVN's setback
at Dongxoai. Two entire South Vietnamese battalions had been annihilated,
the general reported. Goodpaster then reviewed Westmoreland's request for
major U.S. forces, together with his plan to conduct aggressive "search and
destroy" operations. Eisenhower affirmed that the United States had now
"appealed to force" in South Vietnam, and therefore "we have got to win."
Westmoreland's request should be supported, Ike told Goodpaster to inform
the President."
If Eisenhower's comments lessened Johnson's reservations, the confidential
polls which LBJ received the next afternoon diminished them further. Several days earlier, Johnson had secretly commissioned a survey testing reaction
to larger deployments. The President hungered for signs of their effect on
popular opinion.
This poll, like previous studies, revealed an astonishingly hawkish public.
Although U.S. involvement in the war had deepened considerably in recent
months, Johnson's popularity remained extraordinarily high: 69 percent.
So did his handling of Vietnam; respondents supported his overall policy
65 to 35 percent.
The most striking results, however, concerned additional combat forces.
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And yetdespite all their efforts, all their expectations, all their confidence
the French "were finally defeatedafter seven years of bloody struggle. . . ."
Ball implored Johnson to avoid a similar fate by avoiding major escalation. Specifically, he urged LBJ to limit additional deployments to "no
more" than 100,000, while making clear to "your top advisers . . . that you
are not committing US forces on an open-ended basis to an all-out land war
in South Viet-Nam; that instead you are making a controlled commitment
for a trial period of three months"until the end of the monsoon season.
Together, these proposals appeared strikingly cautiousnot unlike McNamara's "controlled" escalation to 95,000.21 Ball did differ from McNamara, however, in his sensitivity to ultimate costs, which he beseeched
Johnson to ponder carefully. If the trial period provided "no reasonable
assurance" that the United States could fight in South Vietnam without
"vast protracted effort," then Ball advised "limiting the American commitment and finding a political solution at a level below the total achievement
of our declared objectives."
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Hanoi, but in South Vietnam. My first reaction is that this program is rash
to the point of folly."
Bundy considered McNamara's inattention to "the upper limit of US
liability" particularly reckless. "If we need 200 thousand men now for these
quite limited missions," he wrote, "may we not need 400 thousand later?"
"Is this a rational course of action?" Bundy judged McNamara's proposals
"a slippery slope toward total US responsibility and corresponding fecklessness on the Vietnamese side."
These comments reflected Bundy's slim faith in the Saigon regime. He
doubted that major deployments would improve that regime. Instead, they
might pull America deeper into a war fought alongside an increasingly ineffective and unpopular government.
This danger prompted Bundy to raise surprising questions about ultimate
objectives in Vietnam. Given Saigon's political debilities and the military
risks of escalation, he wrote McNamara in conclusion, "do we want to invest
200 thousand men to cover an eventual retreat? Can we not do that just as
well where we are?"80
Bundy's comments sounded astonishingly similar to Ball's. He seemed to
be converging on Ball's position of resisting further deployments, while seeking a negotiated exit. This convergence proved short-lived, however. For
just as Bundy embraced Ball's "hold the line" position, the Undersecretary
moved well beyond it, to advocate "cutting losses" through prompt American withdrawal.
Ball's shift came on the morning of June 28. Up to that time, Ball had
argued a cautious policy: limiting, not opposing, further deployments; exploring, not urging, disengagement. But no more. "In an intense meeting . . . with his State Department helpers," remembered William Bundy,
who attended the session, Ball repeated "what he had put in his June 18th
memorandum for the President. . . . This time, however, his ending was
not to hold the line, but to find a way to 'cut our losses' just as soon as possible." Ball had concluded America must now extricate itself from Vietnam.31
William Bundy concluded differently. Accepting Ball's warnings about the
dangers of escalation, Bundy refused to accept the idea of withdrawal. He
therefore broke with Ball. Joining the Undersecretary in his office after the
meeting, Bundy announced his plan to draft a third recommendation, outlining a middle course between McNamara and Ball.32
By week's end, Johnson's advisers had forged three alternatives in Vietnam:
Robert McNamara urging substantial escalation; George Ball urging cutting
losses; and William Bundy urging holding the line. These options went to
LBJ on the night of July 1.
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bilities I think humiliation would be more likely than the achievement of our
objectiveseven after we had paid terrible costs.
Ball beseeched LBJ to avert this debacle. The President must, he pleaded,
"seek a compromise settlement which achieves less than our stated objectives
and thus cut our losses while we still have the freedom of maneuver to do
so. . . . "
Ball knew such a decision would be most difficult for Johnson, given the
dangers to his domestic standing and therefore his legislative program, as
well as America's international position. But weighed against the perils of
escalation, Ball considered withdrawal far less damaging to the President
and the country. And its costs greatly exaggerated. Analyzing the impact of
U.S. disengagement throughout the East Asia, Ball rebutted the domino
theory. He cited America's most important ally in the region, Japan, as an
example. Far from fearing withdrawal, Ball told LBJ, Japan "would prefer
wisdom to valor in an area remote from its interests where escalation could
involve its Chinese or Russian neighbors, or both. . . ." Its citizens, moreover, viewed U.S. involvement in South Vietnam not as a struggle to preserve a beleaguered democracy but as an effort "to prop up a tottering government that lacks adequate indigenous support." This perception extended
far beyond Japan, to include many other U.S. allies and neutrals. Whatever
our expectations, he wrote, "we cannot ignore the fact that the war is vastly
unpopular and that our role in it is perceptibly eroding the respect and
confidence with which other nations regard us." Ball feared further involvement would only exacerbate this trend, further undermining "the effectiveness of our world leadership."
Escalation, then, posed a double threatto America's power and to America's reputation. Ball evoked this double threat when he concluded, "[I]f we
act before we commit substantial US forces to combat in South Viet-Nam
we can, by accepting some short-term costs, avoid what may well be a longterm catastrophe."34
The third alternative, William Bundy's, argued a "middle way" between
McNamara and Ballcapping U.S. deployments at approximately 85,000,
and waiting through the summer to see how this worked.
Bundy's plan, while eschewing withdrawal, still reflected grave misgivings
about escalation: increasing American combat involvement, he wrote, risked
causing "the Vietnamese government and especially the army to let up,"
while fostering "adverse popular reactions to our whole presence"; imposing
an air and naval quarantine threatened "to throw North Vietnam into the
arms of Communist China"; expanding ROLLING THUNDER to urban
industrial areas "would not now lead Hanoi to give in but might on the
contrary toughen it." Given these dangers, Bundy urged LBJ to "hold on
for the next two months""to test the military effectiveness of US combat
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forces and the reaction of the Vietnamese army and people to the increasing
US role."35
Bundy's proposal completed the options for Johnson's consideration. But
not the contest for Johnson's mind. For LBJ received another note that
night which, while not endorsing a specific recommendation, greatly influenced his thinking.
Dean Rusk seldom wrote Johnson. He limited that practice to important
moments, like the bombing decision in February. Rusk knew a similar
moment beckoned. LBJ stood on the threshold of another crucial Vietnam
decision, involving a major escalation of the war.
Rusk's basic advice remained unchanged. "The central objective of the
United States in South Viet-Nam," he told the President, "must be to insure
that North Viet-Nam not succeed in taking over or determining the future
of South Viet-Nam by force." This admonition crisply summarized Rusk's
understanding of the war. A man wedded to the principle of collective security and the perception of a monolithic world communism, Rusk necessarily
viewed Vietnam in stark and apocalyptic terms:
The integrity of the U.S. commitment is the principal pillar of peace throughout the world. If that commitment becomes unreliable, the communist world
would draw conclusions that would lead to our ruin and almost certainly to a
catastrophic war. So long as the South Vietnamese are prepared to fight for
themselves, we cannot abandon them without disaster to peace and to our interests throughout the world.
Sure that the United States must save South Vietnam, Rusk remained unsure about South Vietnam's determination to save itself.36
LBJ had now heard from all of his senior advisers except McGeorge
Bundy. The national security assistant's turn came in a covering note he
sent to the President transmitting the other papers. Bundy's advice to Johnson differed markedly from his comments to McNamara the previous day.
Addressing the President, Bundy suppressed his thoughts about eventual
disengagement and many of his concerns about escalation. "My hunch," he
in fact wrote, "is that you will want to listen hard to George Ball and then
reject his proposal. Discussion could then move to the narrower choice between my brother's course and McNamara's."
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delay the day of decision. Still uncertain which path to follow, Johnson
wanted more time to ponder his choices.
And more time to shepherd key domestic measures through Congress. For
the President, by the beginning of July, faced a crossroads in his legislative
calendar. The Voting Rights Act neared its last hurdle on the House floor.
Medicare/Medicaid approached a final Senate vote. Conclusive action also
loomed on the housing, urban renewal, and antipoverty initiatives. Securing
these bills' passage represented a powerful incentive to defer controversial
Vietnam decisions and the all-consuming debate they threatened.
Yet heated resistance to Ball's negotiating gambitparticularly from Taylorslowly narrowed LBJ's room for maneuver. On July 3, the State Department cabled Saigon about Ball's proposed contact with Hanoi and the
Vietcong. Taylor wasted little time in denouncing the plan. On July 5, he
telegrammed the President, loudly condemning such "premature" and
"highly dangerous" talks. Taylor's unusually sharp dissent, which even McGeorge Bundy found "surprising," further limited Johnson's range of
options.40
LBJ sensed this tightening pressure. However much he wished to postpone
agonizing choices, he knew events would not long let him. Realizing the day
of decision neared, Johnson summoned a group of elder statesmen to Washington on July 8 to discuss the Vietnam War.
This group, created as a bipartisan advisory committee during LBJ's fall
campaign against Goldwater, comprised men who had played leading roles
in American government during the postwar yearsmen who embodied the
knowledge, experience, and prestige of America's foreign policy establishmentmen, in short, who had fixed and perpetuated the policy of global
containment now reaching its fullest expression in Vietnam.
They included Dean Acheson, a major architect of U.S. Cold War policies. His diplomatic career had paralleled America's rise to global preeminence. Joining the State Department on the eve of U.S. entry into World
War II, Acheson had helped administer Lend-Lease aid to Britain; participated in planning the United Nations; secured congressional funding for
the Truman Doctrine; and guided the nation's foreign policy as Secretary of
State from 1949 to 1953.
Omar Bradley, another panel member, radiated the quiet, cool professionalism of America's military establishment. An infantry commander during
World War II, his troops had spearheaded the drive against Axis forces from
North Africa to the heart of Germany. After the war, Bradley had served as
Army Chief of Staff and, later, first Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff
during Korea.
John Cowles, liberal Republican publisher of the Minneapolis Star and
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Several of these men journeyed to the White House that evening. Gathered like a board of directors around the Cabinet table, Acheson, Bradley,
Cowles, Dean, Lovett, and McCloy greeted LBJ when he arrived shortly
after 6:30. Acheson, the group's informal leader, described what followed
in a letter two days later to former President Truman.
Almost immediately, reported Acheson, Johnson launched into
a long complaint about how mean everything and everybody was to himFate,
the Press, the Congress, the Intellectuals & so on. For a long time he fought the
problem of Vietnam (every course of action was wrong; he had no support
from anyone at home or abroad; it interfered with all his programs, etc. etc.).
Finally, I blew my top & told him . . . that he had no choice except to press
on. . . .
With this lead my colleagues came thundering in like the charge of the Scots
Greys at Waterloo . . . [O]ld Bob Lovett, usually cautious, was all out, 8c, of
course, Brad[ley] left no doubt that he was with me all the way. I think . . .
we scored.41
George Ball, who sat in that night along with Rusk, McNamara, and
McGeorge Bundy, was appalled by what he considered the elders' hasty and
imprudent counsel. When the meeting ended, Ball walked over to Acheson
and Dean. "You goddamned old bastards," he reproached them, "[y]ou remind me of nothing so much as a bunch of buzzards sitting on a fence and
letting the young men die. You don't know a goddamned thing about what
you're talking about. . . . You just sit there and say these irresponsible
things!" Then, looking directly at Acheson, Ball asked, "Would you have
ever put up with this if you had been secretary of state?" His words did
not go entirely unregistered. Acheson "said afterwards that I shook the hell
out of him," Ball later recalled.42
The wise men's advice, on the other hand, certainly shook the hell out
of Johnson. As William Bundy has written, "the President [had] probably
expected that most of the Panel would be generally in favor of a firm policy.
What he found was that almost all were solidly of this view. . . ." For an
unsure diplomatist like LBJ, these men represented the established wisdom,
the beguiling stature, the unassailable authority of a successful foreign
policy tradition. Now, the fathers of that tradition had admonished Johnson
to carry on in Vietnam.43
The panel's profound effect on Johnson's thinking became clear during an
impromptu news conference in the Oval Office the next afternoon. Summoning reporters around his desk, the President appeared somber and resigned. He spoke quietly, almost inaudibly, of the dark road ahead. "We
expect that it will get worse before it gets better," LBJ said in response to
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questions about Vietnam. Citing the recent buildup of U.S. forcessomething Johnson had always avoided in the pasthe warned that "others . . .
will be required," adding, "Whatever is required I am sure will be supplied."44
LBJ spoke even more unambiguously on July 13. Addressing a formal
press gathering in the White House East Room, Johnson prepared the country for "new and serious decisions . . . in the near future." He left little
doubt what those decisions entailed. "It will be necessary . . . to have substantially larger increments of troops" committed to South Vietnam, LBJ
said.45
But the clearest, most unmistakable clue to Johnson's intentions came
during a Rose Garden speech to the National Rural Electric Cooperative
Association (NRECA) the next evening. The summer sun, streaking low
across the undulating South Lawn, provided a fitting setting as LBJ reminisced with old colleagues about the accomplishments of the NRECA. Johnson seemed at home and relaxed, speaking frankly with kindred spirits.
Gradually, his thoughts drifted to Vietnam:
Now there are going to be some long debates, there are going to be some eloquent speeches, there are going to be some differences of opinion, and there is
going to be some criticism of your President. But three PresidentsPresident
Eisenhower, President Kennedy, and your present Presidenthave made a commitment in the name of the people of the United States, and our national
honor is at stake in southeast Asia. And we are going to protect it, and you just
might as well be prepared for it. . . .4e
Having privately debated and personally struggled over Vietnam for weeks,
LBJ appeared resigned to a larger war.
But if Johnson had resigned himself to this eventuality, he did so with
grudging resentment. The moment seemed particularly cruel to him. Just
five days before, on July 9, the House of Representatives had narrowly
passed the Voting Rights Act, while the Senate had finally approved Medicare. Both bills would soon enter conference. LBJ's legislative dreams
seemed within reach at last.
And now Vietnam threatened to unravel it all. Already, congressional
conservatives, scenting major decisions ahead, had begun pressing Johnson
to confront the consequences of a larger war. In the House, Republicans
Gerald Ford and Melvin Laird had demanded the administration increase
defense spending $1 to $2 billion and mobilize at least 200,000 reserves. In
the Senate, Mississippi Democrat John Stennis, chairman of the Armed
Services Preparedness Subcommittee, had criticized Johnson for financing
Vietnam "out of a peacetime budget," while Minority Leader Everett Dirksen, on July 13, had urged the President to seek "additional authority and
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At this point, Ky jumped back into the discussion, reiterating his desire
for more U.S. forces. Saigon wanted American troops not because it lacked
the will to fight, he asserted, but because they could clear and hold territory
while his government "reorganized the rear."54
Back in Washington, meanwhile, the administration began organizing the
process for committing additional combat forces, as well as related measures
such as mobilizing reserves, raising draft calls, and increasing defense expenditures. On July 15, President Johnson ordered a CIA study estimating
reactions to a substantial U.S. buildup in South Vietnam, assuming a call-up
of reserves, extended tours of duty, heavier conscription, and a $2 to $3
billion defense appropriation. Then, the following day, LBJ stepped back,
instructing Deputy Defense Secretary Vance to prepare a much smaller supplementary request. Johnson explained his shift to Vance in telling terms.
As Vance secretly cabled McNamara on July 17, the President felt it "was
impossible for him to submit [a] supplementary budget request of more
than 1300-400 million to the Congress before next January" because "[i]f
a larger request is made . . . , he believes it will kill [his] domestic legislative program."55
Here, in stark language, lay LBJ's deepest fearthat revealing the war's
full costs spelled doom for his Great Society. Johnson had sensed this danger all along, but acutely now, in mid-summer. As he brooded anxiously
to those around him that week, "I can get the Great Society through right
nowthis is a golden time. We've got a good Congress and I'm the right
President and I can do it. But if I talk about the cost of war, the Great
Society won't go through." Oh no, he said, "Old Wilbur Mills will sit down
there and he'll thank me kindly and send me back my Great Society, and
then he'll tell me that they'll be glad to spend whatever we need for the
war."88
LBJ mulled gloomily, irascibly over his predicament. The tension between Vietnam and the Great Society seemed excruciatingalmost unmentionable, as the President's comment to McGeorge Bundy on July 19 suggested. That day, Johnson asked his national security assistant to draft a
memo outlining reasons for avoiding a billion-dollar Vietnam appropriation. Bundy prepared a list, which he sent the President that night:
1. It would be a belligerent challenge to the Soviets at a time when it is important to do only the things which we have to do (like calling reserves).
2. It would stir talk about controls over the economy and inflationat a time
when controls are not needed and inflation is not that kind of problem.
3. It would create the false impression that we have to have guns, not butter
and would help the enemies of the President's domestic legislative program.
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4. It would play into the hands of the Soviets at Geneva, because they could
argue that it was a flagrant breach of the policy of "mutual example" on defense budgets.
5. It is not neededbecause there are other ways of financing our full effort in
Vietnam for the rest of the calendar year, at least.
LBJ returned the memo, scrawling this message across the bottom: "Rewrite
eliminating 3.L."57
For Johnson, Bundy's remark represented a painful reminder of his
dilemma, a disturbing sign of Vietnam's domestic implications. Disturbing
signs of Vietnam's international implications reached LBJ the following
evening, in a CIA estimate of world reactions to escalation, which he had
commissioned five days earlier.
Johnson's gloom surely deepened as he studied the report late into the
night on July 20. Intelligence authorities, anticipating Vietcong and North
Vietnamese reaction to an American military buildup, wrote:
We do not believe that inauguration of the US policy here assumed would
basically alter the[i]r expectations. The Viet Cong . . . and the DRV probably have come to expect increased US commitments, and they probably believe that the VC, with increased North Vietnamese assistance, can find ways
to offset the effect of larger US forces. Nor do we think that the exten[s]ion of
air attacks to selected military targets in the Hanoi and Haiphong areas . . .
would significantly injure the VC ability to persevere in the South or persuade
the Hanoi government . . . that the price of persisting was unacceptably high.
More troops and heavier bombing would not foreshorten the war, nor dissuade the communists. Instead, the CIA predicted,
the Communists would almost certainly undertake measures to increase their
own strength in South Vietnam for a higher level of struggle. They are already
augmenting VC units and dispatching additional PAVN forces to South Vietnam; the assumed US actions would probably result in a speeding up of this
process.
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ing pressures to expand its military aid to North Vietnam, thus risking a
direct confrontation with Washington. The result: a Vietnamese foe masterfully exploiting the Sino-Soviet rivalry, combined with heightened Cold War
tensions.58
As LBJ brooded over the CIA study, McNamara and his party sped eastward over the Pacific, headed back to Washington. Their jet landed at
Andrews Air Force Base shortly after dawn on July 21. Within hours, McNamara's crucial report had reached Johnson.
McNamara opened his pivotal memorandum to the President with a disturbing but candid assessment of the war.
The situation in South Vietnam is worse than a year ago (when it was worse
than a year before that). After a few months of stalemate, the tempo of the war
has quickened. A hard VC push is now on to dismember the nation and to
maul the army. The VC main and local forces, reinforced by militia and guerrillas, have the initiative and, with large attacks (some in regimental strength),
are hurting ARVN forces badly.
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None sounded inviting. But given McNamara's assumptions about the consequences of (a) and (b), (c) seemed the only choice. There could, in fact, be
no other, since he considered additional deployments "prerequisite to the
achievement of any acceptable settlement."
All this LBJ had largely accepted, as his comments to the press the previous week attested. But the number of additional forces, how to raise them,
at what costthese remained crucial and open questions.
Here, McNamara urged substantial and forthright escalation: increasing
U.S. troops to 175,000 promptly, with perhaps another 100,000 in 1966; intensifying ROLLING THUNDER strikes against the North; mobilizing
235,000 Reserves and National Guardsmen; enlarging the regular armed
forces by 375,000 through heavier conscription and extended tours of duty;
and sizably expanding the defense budget. These proposals meant a major
American war; its costs frankly acknowledged to Congress and the country.58
Reading McNamara's report, Johnson must have shuddered at his dilemma. He faced a commitment of up to 275,000 combat troops, involving
the mobilization of over 600,000 additional soldiers, costing billions of extra
dollarsthis at a time when his most cherished domestic programs awaited
congressional completion. The tensions between Vietnam and the Great
Society, between guns and butter, had never seemed more immediate or
more intense.
LBJ's moment of decision had come. Beginning later that morning, and
for seven critical days thereafter, Johnson would struggle with the deeply
conflicting pressures of war and reform. From that struggle would emerge
the most fateful decision of his presidency.
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options so that every man at this table understands fully the total picture."
As he recapitulated the themes, Johnson gazed at both McNamara and Ball,
whose conflicting advice weighed so heavily upon him.
After LBJ finished, McNamara lifted a map showing ARVN and Vietcong positions throughout South Vietnam. Pointing to communist-controlled
areas, he told the President that "[o]ur mission would be to seek out the
VC in large scale units." Wheeler backed him up: "By continuing to
probe, we think we can make headway." Together, they had summarized
Westmoreland's "search and destroy" strategy.
CIA Director Raborn doubted the Vietcong would oblige General Westmoreland. His analysts feared the VC might avoid conventional engagements altogether, bleeding U.S. forces instead through hit-and-run ambushes.
Wheeler dismissed the danger. The Vietcong will have to "come out and
fight" at some point, he insisted.
Ball had doubts. "Isn't it possible that the VC will do what they did
against the Frenchstay away from confrontation and not accommodate
us?"
"Yes, but by constantly harassing them, they will have to fight somewhere," Wheeler contended.
Even "[i]f [the] VC doesn't fight in large units," McNamara added, "it
will give ARVN a chance to re-secure hostile areas." Yet, despite the upbeat
assessment he had just given the President, McNamara harbored some uncertainty. "We don't know what VC tactics will be when [it] is confronted
by 175,000 Americans," he frankly admitted.
Johnson, following silently, now spoke up. "Is anyone of the opinion we
should not do what [McNamara's] memo saysIf so, I'd like to hear from
them."
The invitation to Ball seemed unmistakable. He seized it immediately.
"I ... foresee a perilous voyagevery dangerous," Ball said, "[I have]
great apprehensions that we can win under these conditions."
Whatever his fears, however, Ball sensed the direction of LBJ's thinking
and responded accordingly. "[L]et me be clear," he said, "if the decision
is to go ahead, I'm committed."
Johnson knew that; he wanted to know if there was "another course
in the national interest that is better than the McNamara course?" "We
know it's dangerous and perilous," the President observed. "But can it be
avoided?"
"There is no course that will allow us to cut our losses" easily, Ball
admitted, but "[i]f we get bogged down, our cost might be substantially
greater. The pressures to create a larger war would [then] be irresistible."
"What other road can I go?" LBJ asked with some emotion.
"Take what precautions we cantake losseslet their government fall
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188
"I think I can present to you the least bad of two courses," Ball responded.
"What I would present is a course that is costly, but [one that] can be
limited to short term costs."
"Then, let's meet . . . this afternoon to discuss Ball's proposals." "Now,"
LBJ said, turning to McNamara, "let Bob tell us why we need to risk those
600,000 lives."
McNamara outlined the reasons for more troops. He told Johnson the
current level of forces75,000offered no hope; "it will let us lose slowly
instead of rapidly," he said. More Americans, on the other hand, would
stabilize the situation," giving ARVN "breathing room" while posing "no
major risk of catastrophe."
"But you will lose a greater number of men," the President said, impatiently flicking his tie-clasp.
"The more men we have the greater the likelihood of smaller losses,"
Wheeler interjected.
"What makes you think if we put in 100,000 men, Ho Chi Minh won't
put in another 100,000?" LBJ asked.
"This means greater bodies of men," Wheeler smiled, "which will allow
us to cream them."
"What are the chances of more North Vietnamese . . . coming [in]?"
Johnson repeated, unmoved by Wheeler's assurance.
"Fifty-fifty chance," the general predicted. "H[o] would be foolhardy to
put one-quarter of his forces in[to] South Vietnam" because "[i]t would
expose him too greatly in North Vietnam."
At that point, the meeting ended. Before leaving, the President asked
everyone to reassemble at 2:30. He then stood up and walked from the
room.
When 2:30 arrived, the same group of advisers filed back into the Cabinet
Room. Several minutes later, LBJ appeared, and the meeting resumed.8
"All right, George," Johnson said, gesturing for Ball to begin.
Voices hushed around the table. As one participant later put it, "It was
George Ball's last stand."3
Ball carefully arranged his notes. He cleared his throat and began. "We
can't win," he flatly stated, warning that the "most we can hope for is [a]
messy conclusion" to a "long [and] protracted" war.
Such prospects alarmed Ball, reminding him of the "galling" experience
of Korea. Ball sketched those parallels, using a chart correlating U.S. casualties with public support for that earlier war.
The statistics told a sobering story. As American casualties in Korea had
mounted, domestic support had slipped dramatically. Ball feared a similar
trend in Vietnam. If Washington escalated U.S. involvement, casualties
would mount steadily. "As casualties increase," he warned, the President
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would confront growing demands "to strike at [the very] jugular" o North
Vietnam, thus risking an even wider and more dangerous war.
This spelled not just domestic but international trouble as well, argued
Ball. "If we could win in a year's timewin decisively," he said, then "world
opinion would be all right." But in a "long and protracted war"the very
war Ball expected would developAmerica would suffer the impression
that "a great power cannot beat guerrillas."
LBJ sat with his chin cupped in hand, following Ball closely. "Every
great captain in history [was] not afraid to make a tactical withdrawal if
conditions [were] unfavorable to him," Ball told him. And the conditions
confronting Johnson in Vietnam were miserable. "The enemy cannot even
be seen; he is indigenous to the country, and he always has access to much
better intelligence. He knows what we're going to do but we haven't the
vaguest clue as to his intentions. I have serious doubt[s] if an army of
westerners can fight orientals in [an] Asian jungle and succeed."
LBJ seemed impressed. "This is important," he said, distilling Ball's
argument, "[C]an westerners, in [the] absence of intelligence, successfully
fight orientals in jungle rice-paddies? I want McNamara and Wheeler to
seriously ponder this question."
"I think we have all underestimated the seriousness of this situation,"
Ball resumed, likening America's efforts in South Vietnam to a doctor "giving cobalt treatment to a terminal cancer case." Escalation would not bring
remission. Instead, he believed "a long protracted war" would only "disclose our weakness," exposing Saigon's utter dependence on Washington.
Ball considered this sheer folly. Wiser, he thought, "to cut losses in South
Vietnam" by putting reform proposals to the government "that they can't
accept." "[T]hen," he predicted, "it would move into a neutralist position"
and ask the United States to leave. "I have no illusions that after we were
asked to leave, SVN would be under Hanoif's] control," Ball conceded.
"That's implicit in our predicament."
Anticipating criticism on this last score, Ball surveyed the consequences
of a unified communist Vietnam. "If we wanted to make a stand in Thailand," he said, "we might be able to make it." In South Korea, "[w]e have
two [combat] divisions"ample deterrent to communist aggression. America's closest and most important Asian ally, Japan, "thinks we are propping
up a lifeless government. . . ." "Between a long war and cutting our losses,"
Ball said, "the Japanese would go for the latter."
Johnson appeared skeptical. "Wouldn't all these countries say Uncle Sam
is a paper tigerwouldn't we lose credibility breaking the word of three
presidents? . . ." "It would seem to be an irreparable blow," he grumbled.
"The worsfe] blow would be that the mightiest power in the world is
unable to defeat a handful of guerrillas," Ball answered.
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"Then you are not . . . troubled by what the world would say about
pulling out?"
Yes, Ball said, "[i] we were . . . helping a country with a stable, viable
government"that "would be a vastly different story."
"But I believe that these people are trying to fight," LBJ shot back, illustrating his feelings with a typically Johnsonesque metaphor: "They're like
Republicans who try to stay in power, but don't stay there long."
Ball considered the Ky-Thieu clique nothing like America's Republican
party. "Thieu spoke the other day and said the Communists would win the
election," he said.
"I don't believe that," LBJ snapped. "Does anyone believe that?"
Ball found no supporters, though McNamara did confess misgivings about
Saigon's current junta. "Ky will fall soon," he predicted. "He is weak. We
can't have elections until there is physical security, and even then there
will be no elections because as Cabot said, there is no democratic tradition."
McNamara's comments seemed to rekindle the President's own anxieties
about escalation. Leaning forward, Johnson shared those anxieties with the
men around him. "There are two basic troublings within me," he said.
"1. That westerners can ever win in Asia. 2. [I] don't see how you can fight
a war under [the] direction of other people whose government changes
every month. Now go ahead, George, and make your other points," LBJ
said, slumping back in his chair.
Ball summarized the alternatives. "On one hand," he said, "[w]e can
continue a dragged out, bitterly costly, and increasingly dangerous war, with
the North Vietnamese digging in for a long term since that's their life and
driving force." Or, "we can face the short-term losses of pulling out." "It's
distasteful either way," Ball admitted, but then "life's full of hard choices."
McGeorge Bundy, who had been following without comment, now interrupted to say that while Ball had raised "important questions," his course
represented a "radical switch" from present policy. "It goes in the face of
all we have said and done," Bundy argued, while failing to address "losses
suffered by the other side."
Bundy felt Ball had seriously underestimated the war's costs to North
Vietnam, but not its costs to the United States. Like Ball, he considered it
imperative that Johnson "make clear this is a somber matterthat it will
not be quickno single action will bring quick victory." "We are asking
Americans to bet more to achieve less," Bundy noted, and the administration
must acknowledge it forthrightly.
On the basic issue, however, Bundy remained adamant. America must
stay the course in Vietnam. After all, he predicted, there would be ample
time to get out after Washington had given it a good try.
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191
"We won't get out," Ball desperately said, "we'll double our bet and get
lost in the rice paddies."
Bundy, his irritation rising,, branded Ball's course "disastrous," urging
LBJ to "waffle through" rather than withdraw.
Rusk entered the fray. Speaking slowly and carefully, his quiet manner
diffused the growing tension between Ball and Bundy. It also magnified
the weight of his counsel. As he had countless times before, Rusk stressed
the indivisibility of America's global commitments. "If the Communist
world finds out we will not pursue our commitment to the end," he gravely
intoned, "I don't know where they will stay their hand. On the other hand,"
Rusk said, "I am more optimistic than some of my colleagues" about the
risks of deeper involvement. So far, Washington had increased bombing
and ground forces without provoking counter-escalation by Hanoi. He
therefore doubted the need to accompany further troop increases with
dramatic public gestures.
McNamara also weighed in. Like Bundy, he criticized Ball for underestimating the costs of withdrawal, while exaggerating the costs of escalation. Given enough timeat least two yearsand enough forcesperhaps
another 100,000McNamara believed the war winnable.
Wheeler qualified this assertion. He doubted a "win" within a year, no
matter how many troops the President committed. That would take longer,
perhaps three years. Still, Wheeler insisted that America could ultimately
prevail in the jungles of Southeast Asia.
Johnson asked Wheeler why, given past military failures, he now expected
success. Wheeler again cited the advantage of more troops.
Lodge intervened. He expressed the sentiments of many in the room
a generation schooled in the crucible of the 1930s. Fearing "a greater threat
[of] World War III if we don't go in," he pleaded: "Can't we see the
similarity of our own indolence at Munich?" Besides, Lodge added with
his generation's equally typical confidence, "I can't be as pessimistic as Ball.
We have great seaports in Vietnam. We don't need to fight on roads. We
have the sea. Visualize our meeting [the] VC on our own terms. We don't
have to spend all our time in the jungles."
Discussion then shifted to press coverage of Vietnam, particularly McNamara's recent mission to Saigon. "How can we get everybody to compete
with McNamara in the press?" LBJ demanded to know. "We are trying
to do so many other things with our economic and health projects," Johnson observed. "Can't we . . . remind the people that we are doing something besides bombing?" Perhapsbut for now, LBJ's burden of military
decision remained.4
Johnson continued to wrestle with Vietnam that evening. Shortly after
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193
to invite you here to counsel with [me] on these problems and the ways
to meet them," he said, seeking their advice on the Vietnam situation "from
a military point of view."
LBJ then framed these options: "1. Leave the country, with as little loss
as possiblethe 'bugging out' approach; 2. Maintain present forcefs] and
lose slowly; 3. Add 100,000 menrecognizing that may not be enough and
adding more next year." The disadvantages Johnson perceived in the first
and second options showed through in the language he used to describe
them; the disadvantages of number 3, he said, included the "risk of escalation," the prospect of "high" casualties, and the danger of "a long war
without victory." Having thus recited his dilemma, LBJ asked the military
chiefs "where we can go."
Admiral McDonald spoke first. "I agree with McNamara that we are
committed to [the] extent that we can't move out. If we continue the way
we are it will be a slow, sure victory for the other side. By putting more men
in it will turn the tide and let us know what further we need to do. I wish
we had done this long before."
"But you don't know if 100,000 will be enough," the President interrupted. "What makes you conclude that if you don't know where we are
goingand what will happenwe shouldn't pause and find . . . out?"
Because "[sjooner or later we'll force them to the conference table," McDonald insisted.
But "[i] we put in 100,000 won't they put in an equal number?" LBJ
shot back.
"No," the admiral replied, "if we step up our bombing"
"Is this a chance we want to take?" the President carefully asked.
"Yes, when I view the alternatives. Get out now or pour in more men."
"Is that all?"
"I think our allies will lose faith in us if we withdraw."
'We have few allies really helping up now," Johnson pouted.
"[Take] Thailand, for example," McDonald continued. "If we walk out
of Vietnam, the whole world will question our word. We don't have much
choice."
LBJ turned to Navy Secretary Nitze, a veteran of Truman's ordeal in
Korea. "Paul, what is your view?"
Nitze counseled persistence. "[T]o acknowledge that we couldn't beat the
VC" would be ominous, he argued; "the shape of the world will change."
But "[w]hat are our chances of success?" Johnson wanted to know.
"If we want to turn the tide, by putting in more men, it would be about
sixty-forty."
"Would you send in more forces than Westmoreland requests?"
"Yes. [It] depends on how quickly they"
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Army Chief of Staff Johnson interjected. "We are in a face-down [situation], the general said, and "[t]he solution, unfortunately, is long-term.
Once the military problem is solved," he added, "the problem of [a] political
solution will be more difficult."
"If we come in with hundreds of thousands of men and billions of dollars,
won't this cause [Russia and China] to come in?" the President frowned.
"No," the general answered, "I don't think they will."
"MacArthur didn't think they would come in either," LBJ groused.
"Yes, but this is not comparable to Korea"
"But China has plenty of divisions to move in, don't they?" the President
said.
"Yes, they do."
"Then what would we do?"
A long silence followed. "If so," General Johnson said, "we have another
ballgame."
"I have to take into account they will," LBJ stressed.
"I would increase the buildup near North Vietnam," General Johnson
went on.
"If they move in thirty-one divisions, what does it take on our part?"
LBJ persisted.
"[Assuming [the] Thais contributed forces," McNamara said, "it would
take 300,000 plus what we needed to combat [the] VC."
The President seemed increasingly agitated. "[R]emember[,] they're going
to write stories about this like they did the Bay of Pigs. Stories about me
and my advisors. That's why I want you to think very carefully about alternatives and plans." Again, he pressed, "Are you concerned about Chinese
forces moving into North Vietnam?"
"There is no evidence of [Chinese] forces," General Johnson answered.
"It could be they are investigating areas which they could control later."
"What is your reaction to Ho's statement he is ready to fight for twenty
years?" LBJ asked.
"I believe it."
"What are Ho's problems?"
"His biggest problem is doubt about what our next move will be. He's
walking a tightrope between the [Soviets] and the Chicoms. Also, he's worrying about the loss of caches of arms in the South."
LBJ switched to the issue of civilian casualties. "Are we killing civilians
along with VC?" he asked.
"Certain civilians accompanying the VC are being killed," General Wheeler responded. "It can't be helped."
Johnson grabbed a paper in front of him and started reading. "The VC
dead is running at a rate of 25,000 a year. At least 15,000 have been killed
by airhalf of these are not a part of what we call VC. Since 1961 a total
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of 89,000 have been killed. South Vietnamese are being killed at a rate of
12,000 a year." He tossed the paper back on the table and sat quietly.
Army Secretary Resor broke the silence. "Of the three courses the one
we should follow is the McNamara plan," Resor said. "We can't go back
on our commitment. Our allies are watching carefully."
"Do all of you think the Congress and the people will go along with
600,000 people and billions of dollars 10,000 miles away?" LBJ asked.
Resor nodded. The "Gallup poll shows people are basically behind our
commitment."
'But if you make a commitment to jump off a building," the President
frowned, "and you find out how high it is, you may withdraw the commitment . . ."
No response. "I judge though that the big problem is one of national
security, is that right?"
Nods around the table.
"What about our intelligence," Johnson said, changing the subject. "How
do they know what we are doing before we do it? What about the B-52
raidweren't they gone before we got there?"
"They get it from infiltration in [the] South Vietnamese forces," McNamara said.
"Are we getting good intelligence out of North Vietnam?"
"Only reconnaissance and technical soundings," McNamara answered.
"None from combat intelligence."
LBJ then motioned to McGeorge Bundy. Before the meeting, he had
instructed Bundy to prepare a memo addressing the complaints of Vietnam
critics. Why Johnson followed this course is curious; Ball had spoken at
length just the previous day. Still, LBJ chose to raise these concerns once
more, perhaps to probefor a final timehis advisers' reaction to the possibility of withdrawala politically risky course Johnson hesitated to follow
without their support.
LBJ spoke. "Some Congressmen and Senators think we are going to be
the most discredited people in the world. What Bundy will tell you is not
his opinion or mineI haven't taken a position yetbut what we hear."
"[This is the] argument we will face," Bundy said, reading from the paper
before him:
For ten years, every step we have taken has been based on a previous failure.
All we have done has failed and caused us to take another step which failed. As
we get further into the bag, we get deeply bruised. Also, we have made excessive claims we haven't been able to realize.
. . . [AJfter twenty years of warnings about war in Asia, we are now doing
what MacArthur and others have warned against. We are about to fight a war
we can't fight and win, as the country we are trying to help is quitting.
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[There is] [t]he failure on our own to fully realize what guerrilla war is like.
We are sending conventional troops to do an unconventional job.
How longhow much? Can we take casualties over five years? Aren't we talking
about a military solution when the solution is political? Why can't we interdict
better? Why are our bombings so fruitless? Why can't we blockade the coast?
Why can't we improve our intelligence? Why can't we find the VC?
If Johnson expected this exercise to provoke re-examination, it did not
occur. Everyone sat quiet.
Several moments passed. Then Clark Clifford, who had remained conspicuously silent throughout the meeting, addressed one question to General Wheeler. "If the military plan is carried out," Clifford carefully asked,
"what is the ultimate result if it is 'successful'?"
Wheeler thought a minute. The "political objective is to maintain South
Vietnam as free and independent," he said. "If we follow the [proposed]
course of action, we can carry out this objective. Probably after success, we
would withdraw most of our forces; [though some,] international and otherwise, would have to stay on. If we can secure the military situation," Wheeler concluded with less certainty, "it seems likely that we can get some kind
of stable government."9
An hour later, LBJ convened a second and smaller meeting attended by
his closest political advisers, together with two eminent Republicans outside the administration. Johnson clearly wished to lay the groundwork for
broad bipartisan support for whatever decision he reached, while also speaking more openly and candidly about his continuing Vietnam troubles in
this more intimate setting.10
LBJ's problems included, prominently, the issue of public disclosure.
Having urged a substantial escalation of U.S. involvement, McNamara
wanted Johnson to drive home the reality of this escalation through important political and symbolic gestures such as mobilizing reserves, increasing conscription, and raising defense spending. McNamara knew his proposals meant carrying the United States into war, and he wanted LBJ to
convey this fact clearly to the American people.11
Few of McNamara's recommendations, however, distressed Johnson more.
They meant acknowledging the full scope and costs of the warsomething
LBJ had steadfastly refused to do in the past. He refused to do so this time
as well. "I don't think that calling up the reserves in itself is a change of
policy," Johnson told his small group of advisers, though he conceded some
"question" "that we are going into a new kind of activity in Vietnam."
"[The] basic objective is to preserve the independence and freedom of
Vietnam," LBJ insisted. "This is not necessarily tied in with calling up
reserves."
Rusk agreed that the "essence of [our] policy is why we are there and
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what our war aims are." Still, he cautioned Johnson, "Moving from 75,000
to 185,000 men is a change of policy." Nevertheless, Rusk contended there
was "much . . . to be said for playing this low-key."
"That . . . needs to be stressed with [the] Congressional leadership,"
LBJ interrupted, while in the same breath asserting his desire "to explain
with candor what we are doing to the American people." "But when we
do," he quickly added, "we help the North Vietnamese get their requests
fulfilled by China and Russia."
This last comment illustrated Johnson's other motive for downplaying
any escalation: his fear that dramatic gestures might trigger counter-escalation, "setfting] off," as he often put it, "those secret treaties" between Hanoi
and Pekingthereby bolstering North Vietnam's military strength and resistance to negotiations.12
Whatever their motive, LBJ's equivocations irritated McNamara. "We
can stay away from 'change of policy,' " he told the President, "but it is a
change in risk and commitment. We need to explain why it is in our interest
to do it." Seeking to move Johnson in this direction, McNamara promised
that he could "cut . . . down" the military's $12 billion supplemental
budget request "by half or more."
The President's new press secretary, Bill Moyers, offered his own advice
about disclosure. "I don't think the press thinks we are going to change
basic policy, but . . . the requirements to meet that policy."
"That's right and we ought to say it," LBJ broke in, impressed with
Moyers' clever distinction.
"I hope we can avoid a debate on whether it is a 'change,' " Ball observed
with exasperation. "We always lose on this. We are becoming co-defendants
with South Vietnam."
McCloy considered all the talk about a change in policy beside the point.
"The country is looking to getting on with the war," McCloy said, and he
urged Johnson to do it.
McCloy had forced discussion back to the basic issue, which LBJ addressed once more. "There are three alternatives," he said, again summarizing his options: "1. Sit and lose slowly; 2. Get out; 3. Put in what needs
to go in."
Rusk clearly favored the latterbut in the way of more troops to the
South, not more bombing of the North. As he explained, "What we do in
South Vietnam is not of great concern to China. But a progressive step-up
in bombing increases [the] risk of China['s] intrusion."
"But the chiefs say what we are doing in the North is not enough," the
President interrupted"only pin-pricking them, just goosing them."
"But it is contradictory to do this when we can't find anybody in the
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201
South," countered Rusk. He cited another reason, too. "Both China and
the Soviets have pressure on them . . . to preserve another 'socialist state,' "
Rusk said. "This is a distinction we must bear in mind" if Washington
wished to avoid pulling Peking and Moscow into the war.
McCloy wondered whether Washington could ever win the war without
destroying Hanoiwhether the North Vietnamese would "let go" as long
as they had "sanctuary."
"Their only sanctuary is one-fifth of the country," Rusk noted, citing the
civilian population centers around Hanoi and Haiphong.
"What do you do if the war drags on with mounting casualties?" Dean
interrupted, "Where do we go? The people say if we are not doing what
is necessary to end it, [then] why don't we do what is necessary?"
"We are begging the questions," McNamara insisted. "If we bomb Haiphong, would this end the war? and the answer is NO."
Dean listened, unpersuaded. "If this carries on for some years," the old
negotiator grumbled, "we'll get in the same fix we were in [in] Korea and
the Yalu."
Rusk disagreed. "We were under no pressures to make it a larger war
until the war was practically over," he contended, suggesting the same held
true in South Vietnam today. "We've got to 80,000 and we have not had
reminiscences of Korea."
Now that Washington had reached 80,000 troops, McCloy observed,
"What are our objectives? What do we have to negotiate?"
Rusk listed several items: "1. Infiltration from the North must stop.
2. We have no interests in a permanent military base there. 3. 1954-1962
[Geneva] agreements ought to be solved by peaceful means and not"
"When do the troops get withdrawn?" McCloy interrupted.
"When [there is] proof infiltration [is] stopping," said Rusk.
What about the thornier political issues, McCloy continued, like the
"kind of government" Washington would accept and the Vietcong's participation in it?
Bundy fielded the question. His brief answer spoke volumes about America's problem in Vietnam. "If we really were the ones for free elections,"
Bundy said, "it would be good. [But] it is difficult for Saigon to sign on."
"Would we be willing to take a Titopst] government or a VC victory?"
McCloy asked.
"That's where our plan begins to unravel," Bundy flushed.
"We're going to announce plenty of bombs," the President broke in, "but
we've got to use both hands." "It's like a prizefight," he explained, raising
both arms. "Our right is our military power, but our left must be our peace
proposals. Every time you move troops forward, you move diplomats for-
202
ward. I want this done. The generals want more and moreand [to] go
farther and farther. But State has to supply me with some, too."
Rusk raised the timing of a presidential announcement, suggesting that
Johnson "meet with the leadership on Tuesday [July 27] and make a statement on Wednesday [July 28]."
"We can't delay this from the public," McNamara frowned.
"We ought to decide what our decision is," LBJ said, then "write it,
brief Ambassadors, and . . . tell the people." "Is the message a personal
talk to the Congress or a normal message?" he wondered aloud. "Possibly
a normal message"one signaling no departure and therefore threatening
no domestic disruption.13
As the meeting broke up and people started to leave the room, Ball
quickly approached Clifford. "Come into the Fish Room with me," the
Undersecretary motioned to his old law friend, "I want to talk to you."
Clifford's question of the previous afternoon had impressed Ball, who sensed
a potential ally in his lonely effort to forestall escalation.
Together, they crossed the hall to the Fish Room. "Look," Ball explained,
referring to Clifford's comment the day before, "You . . . said the only
sensible thing I have heard said by anybody in that group for a very, very
long time. I can tell you that you and I are in total agreement. I have been
looking for support for a long time. I think your influence with the President is tremendously important." Ball then bid his case. "I want to put
into your hands a series of memoranda which I have sent to the President.
Can you handle them? They are highly classified."
"Yes," Clifford answered, "I am a member of the Intelligence Advisory
Board and I have a secure safe at my house. Have the memos hand-delivered
to me, and I will see that they are properly taken care of." Ball promised
to have his personal aide deliver them to Clifford's office that afternoon.14
As Clifford started to leave, a White House guard approached and said
the President wished to see him. LBJ had noticed Clifford's silence during
the day's meetings, and wanted to hear his old friend's reaction to the
deliberations.
The guard escorted Clifford to the small anteroom adjoining the Oval
Office, where Johnson awaited him. What Clifford told LBJ confirmed
Ball's hunch. The generals' assurances of success troubled Clifford, who told
the President that he "didn't like [the] military['s] attitude." "The way the
JCS acted today reminded me of the way the military dealt with President
Truman during the Korean War," he cautioned. "Some of what General
Wheeler said today was ridiculous'the more men we have, the greater the
likelihood of smaller losses.' And if they infiltrate more men into the South,
it will allow us to 'cream them.' These are disturbing statements. I don't believe they are being straight with us."
"Better'n Owl"
203
"I am bearish about the whole exercise," Clifford continued. "I know
what pressure you're under from McNamara and the military. If you handle it carefully, you don't have to commit yourself and the nation. If you
overplay the decisions now under consideration, the nation will be committed to win a ground war in Asia."
"I asked myself two questions today as I listened to McNamara and the
Chiefs," Clifford finally said, eyeing Johnson directly: "First, can a military
victory be won? And second, what do we have if we do win? Based on what
we have heard, I do not know the answers to these questions."18
With Clifford's doubts ringing in his mind, LBJ called together several
advisers the following afternoon. The circle had narrowed to Rusk, McNamara, Ball, Wheeler, Busby, Moyers, and McGeorge Bundya sure sign
Johnson neared his final decision.
LBJ's comments at this meeting reflected the deep impact of Clifford's
thinking. Although Johnson announced no definitive steps, he appeared
determined to minimize reaction to whatever action he took. As Ball recalled his comments to State Department subordinates that evening, LBJ
appeared "anxious to present the decisions which might be made in the
next few days in a low-key manner. . . ."16
Ball refused to abandon hope of dissuading the President, however. His
last and best chance, Ball thought, lay in alliance with Clifford, whose voice
Johnson particularly respected and trusted.
Ball found a sympathetic ally. After reading Ball's papers and jotting
notes late into the night of July 22, Clifford called him the following day
from his office high above Connecticut Avenue overlooking Lafayette Square
and the White House. As Ball remembered, "Clifford told me that he had
spent the previous evening until two in the morning carefully studying my
memoranda. They were, he said, 'impressive and persuasive.' "
Ball was elated. Although headed for another meeting at the White
House, he promised to contact Clifford once he returned to the State
Department.
A few hours later, Ball called Clifford back. He said his meeting earlier
that afternoon with LBJ had convinced him that Clifford's advice had had
a "salutary effect" on the President. Clifford seemed less hopeful. He confided that "another source," Bill Moyers, had told him reversing the President's course required a herculean effortchanging not just Johnson's mind
but also Rusk's, McNamara's, and McGeorge Bundy's. Clifford doubted the
prospect. As he explained to Ball, "individuals sometimes become so bound
up in a certain course it is difficult to know where objectivity stops and
personal involvement begins." Clifford nevertheless promised to have "a
very hard and long talk" with the President.
Ball, anxious to make that talk convincing, alerted Clifford that he must
204
"Better'n Owl"
205
"I believe that we are talking too much, too loudly, too publicly, about
Vietnam," Clifford began. "We must not create an impression that we have
decided to replace the South Vietnamese and win a ground war in Vietnam.
If the decisions about to be made are interpreted as the beginning of a permanent and long-range policy, it will severely limit the flexibility which the
President must have."
Clifford sought to persuade Johnson, not to place blame. "What happened
in Vietnam is no one person's fault," he said. "The bombing might have
worked, but it hasn't. A commitment like the one that we have made in
Vietnam can change as conditions change. A failure to engage in an all-out
war will not lower our international prestige. This is not the last inning
in the struggle against communism. We must pick those spots where the
stakes are highest for us and we have the greatest ability to prevail."
Clifford neared his conclusion. "I do not believe that we can win in South
Vietnam," he told the President. "I hate this war. If we send in 100,000
more men, the North Vietnamese will match us. If the North Vietnamese
run out of men, the Chinese will send in 'volunteers.' Russia and China
don't intend for us to win the war. If we 'won,' we would face a long occupation with constant trouble." His stentorian voice hushed for a moment,
Clifford slammed both fists on the table. "[I]f we don't win after a big
buildup, it will be a huge catastrophe. We could lose more than 50,000 men
in Vietnam. It will ruin us. Five years, 50,000 men killed, hundreds of
billions of dollarsit is just not for us."
Clifford closed with this advice: "For the time being, Mr. President, let
us hold to our present course, without dramatic escalation. You will probably need to send some additional men now for this strategy, but not many.
At the end of the year, after the monsoon season, let us probe, let us quietly
search with other countries for an honorable way out. Let us moderate
our position in order to do so, and lower our sightslower the sights of
the American peopleright away. Let the best minds in your Administration look for a way out, not ways to win this unwinnable war." Otherwise, he darkly predicted, "I can't see anything but catastrophe for my
country."
LBJ sat silently for a moment. Then, he grabbed a private letter from
Harvard University economist John Kenneth Galbraith off the table. It
was headed, tellingly, "How to Take Ninety Percent of the Political Heat
out of Vietnam." Johnson paraphrased aloud from Galbraith's letter, as if
to convince himself and the others:
Vietnam is not of intrinsic valueif there is no high principle involved. . . .
[The] basic issue is not to get thrown out under fire. . . . Political questions
are what we make them. . . . Instruct officials to stop saying all humankind is
at stake. . . . Stop saying we are going to pacify the country. [Use] patiencepressurequietly marking areas we can hold. Hold these for years if need
206
be. Make a safe haven. Vietcong cannot attack these areas frontally. . . .
Gradually stop bombings north and south. Maximum attention to it ... is
wrong. . . . Keep offer of negotiations open.
After finishing the letter, LBJ asked for McNamara's advice. The Secretary of Defense methodically but forcefully restated his position: without
more U.S, troops, South Vietnam would fall to the communists, and this
posed an intolerable risk to American security and credibility. Johnson
listened quietly, then dismissed the group.18
Leaving Aspen Lodge again, LBJ drove alone around Camp David for
nearly an hour. He returned at dusk, then set out for another private stroll.
As he walked along the wooded footpaths late that summer evening,
Johnson searched his mind and his heart for answers. The events of recent
monthsboth anguished Vietnam decisions and joyous Great Society triumphsfilled his memory. The two seemed cruelly intertwined to him,
inseparable yet irreconcilable. The President felt trapped in a terrible vice,
with no way to relieve the pressure. At that moment, he later said,
[I] could see and almost touch [my] youthful dream of improving life for more
people and in more ways than any other political leader, including FDR. . . . I
was determined to keep the war from shattering that dream, which meant I
simply had no choice but to keep my foreign policy in the wings. I knew the
Congress as well as I know Lady Bird, and I knew that the day it exploded
into a major debate on the war, that day would be the beginning of the end of
the Great Society.1
Thus Johnson decided. He would not allow a ruinous debate about "who
lost Vietnam" to destroy his domestic dreams. The troops would be sent
but quietly, with minimum public disclosure. LBJ would have both guns
and butter, and this, to quote William Bundy, would be "his way of trying
to get the best of both."20
That night, the State Department flashed a secret cable, drafted earlier
that evening and awaiting presidential approval, to key American embassies
around the world. Quoting the President, it read, in part:
I have been reviewing [Vietnam] situation during the last few days in the light
of up-to-date reports from my trusted associates. While final decisions have not
been made here, I can tell you that it now appears certain that it will be necessary to increase United States armed forces in South Vietnam by a number
which may equal or exceed the 80,000 already there.21
With the real choice behind him, Johnson now focused on how to announce it publicly. He addressed this issue at an NSC meeting the next
afternoon, July 26.22
During this meeting, LBJ revealed his intention to send additional troops,
"Better'n Owl"
207
208
"2. Another group thinks we ought to pack up and go home," but "[I]
don't think too many of our people want us to do this" either. Besides,
"Ike, Kennedy and I have given [our] commitment.
"3. [We] could stay there as we are . . . continue to lose territory and
casualties. You wouldn't want your boy to be out there . . . crying for
help and not get it.
"4. [We can] go to Congress and ask for great sums of money; call up the
reserves and increase [the] draft; [go] on [a] war footing; declare a state
of emergency." Johnson conceded there was "a good deal of feeling that
that ought to be done." But he rejected this course on international grounds;
the Great Society remained an unmentionable factor in the decision. "If
we make [a] land war," he said, "then North Vietnam would go to its
friendsChina and Russiaand ask them to give help. They would be
forced into increasing aid. For that reason," the President asserted, "I don't
want to be dramatic and cause tension. I think we can get our people to
support us without having to be provocative.
"5.," LBJ finally said, "[we can] give . . . commanders the men they say
they need out of forces in this countryget[ting] such money as we need
and must have [by] us[ing] [our] transfer authority . . . until January.
"I had concluded that the last course was the right one," Johnson later
wrote, and everyone there knew it. Thus, as the President went around the
table asking whether anyone opposed this course, he got the expected answer. Each nodded his approval or said "yes." LBJ had his consensus.24
Johnson next marshaled congressional support. When the NSC meeting
ended, House and Senate leaders filed into the Cabinet Room. LBJ had
summoned a bipartisan delegation: Democratic Senators Mike Mansfield
of Montana, Russell Long of Louisiana, and George Smathers of Florida;
Republican Senators Everett Dirksen of Illinois, Bourke Hickenlooper of
Iowa, and Thomas Kuchel of California; Democratic Representatives Carl
Albert of Oklahoma, Hale Boggs of Louisiana, and John McCormack of
Massachusetts, Speaker; and Republican Congressmen Leslie Arends of Illinois and Gerald Ford of Michigan.26
At first glance, this group seemed typical of larger congressional sentiment.
All had publicly endorsed American involvement in Vietnam except Mansfield, who had confined his doubts to private exchanges with Johnson. The
small core of Senate criticsfirst only Frank Church, Ernest Gruening,
George McGovern, and Wayne Morse, but now growing to include George
Aiken, John Sherman Cooper, William Fulbright, Richard Russell, and
John Sparkmanremained conspicuously absent. That fact suggested- LBJ's
desire for ratification, not debate, of his decision.26
Johnson began by describing the same five courses outlined earlier to
the NSC. The real choice, LBJ said, lay between the latter two"to go the
"Better'n Owl"
209
full congressional route now" or "to give the congressional leadership the
story now and the bill later."
Johnson then called on Ambassador Lodge, who knocked down courses
1, 2, and 3. No one objected. That left only 4 and 5.
Senator Smathers asked if either involved a change in policy. "There is
no change in policy," LBJ calmly insisted, explaining that as "aid to the
VC increases," so "our need to increase . . . forces goes up."
One guest asked why Congress had not been consulted earlier. Johnson
stammered a moment, then answered, "I couldn't call you down until I
had all the information."
Senator Long felt he had enough information. He believed the choice
narrowed to this: "put in more men or take a whipping." "We'd better go
in," Long said.
"I don't think we have any alternatives," Speaker McCormack agreed.
"Our military men tell us we need more and we should give it to them.
The lesson of Hitler and Mussolini is clear. I can see five years from now
a chain of events far more dangerous to our country if we don't." McGeorge
Bundy, scrawling notes of the meeting, noted at this point: "The Leadership
seems might hawky so far."
One of the most vocal hawks, Representative Ford, said he understood
"why we can't do 1, 2, or 3," but asked LBJ for "an explanation of 4 and 5."
"We will ask Congress for money" in either case, Johnson said, telling
Ford he could "guess" a larger appropriation or "ask for a reasonable request now and see what happens." LBJ hesitated to mobilize reserves, he
added, because if called up now, they "really won't be ready."
On the other hand, Johnson said, he would have things "better worked
out" by January 1966after his domestic agenda had moved through Congress. In the meantime, LBJ planned to "ask for no [war] legislation, call
up no reserves, . . . and send troops in as we need them"perhaps in three
installments of 30,000.
"[I'm] not entirely clear," Ford interjected. "Under 4 you would"
"Would call up reserves now and make out [spending] estimates in [a]
new bill," answered the President impatiently.
"How much is the difference" between 4 and 5? Ford pressed.
"In both cases Westmoreland gets what he wants," interrupted House
Majority Leader Albert.
"How many men?" Republican Arends inquired.
"We don't know," McNamara answered, evidently uncomfortable. "[W]e
will meet requirements," which "right now" meant "50,000 additional"
troops.
LBJ moved to block Ford's and Arend's troublesome queries. "I've asked
you to come here not as Democrats or Republicans but as Americans. I
210
don't want any of you to talk about what is going on. The press is going
to be all over you. Let me appeal to you as Americans to show your patriotism by not talking to the press."
"I agree," Senator Dirksen said, seated directly across from Johnson. He
explained his feelings with an anecdote. "I remember World War I when
Teddy Roosevelt wanted to raise a brigade and go to Europe to fight. President Woodrow Wilson stopped that with one sentence: 'The business at
hand is undramatic.' "
LBJ smiled approvingly. "That's exactly the way I feel about it, Everett,"
Johnson croaked, "the fewer theatrics the better."
But Dirksen hadn't finished. You must "tell the country we are engaged
in very serious business," he admonished the President. "[W]e don't need
to withhold information."
"We won't withhold," Johnson answered defensively. "We want to announce as soon as troops arrive. In the morning I will consult Ike and tell
him what we hope to do and get his views. I will see the chairman of Foreign Relations, Appropriations, and Armed Forces, then announce [my]
decision in press conference."
"Five months is a long time," Dirksen interrupted. "I don't think you
can wait. If you need the money, you ought to ask for it."
LBJ anxiously insisted otherwise. "We have the money. . . . When you
come back in January," he told Dirksen, "you'll have a bill of several billion
dollars."
Johnson glanced around the room. "Is there any other comment?"
"I would not be true to myself if I didn't speak," Senator Mansfield
announced. Faces turned in astonishment as Mansfield pulled a paper
from his pocket and began reading a sharp warning against LBJ's action. "This position has [a] certain inevitability," the majority leader said.
"Whatever pledge we had was to assist South Vietnam in its own defense."
Ambassador Lodge, seated just feet away, gazed ahead blankly as Mansfield recounted the political chaos since Diem's assassination. "Since then
there has been no government of legitimacy. . . . We owe this [present]
government nothingno pledge of any kind."
He paused. "We are going deeper into war. Even total victory would be
vastly costly. [Our] best hope for salvation is a quick stalemate and negotiations. We cannot expect our people to support a war for 3-5 years. [W]e
are about [to embark on] an anti-Communist crusade." Remember, he
ended, "Escalation begets escalation."
"Well, Mike," Johnson grumbled, fists clenched in front of him, "what
would you do?"
Mansfield said nothing, but stared into LBJ's face.27
211
Minutes after 12:30 the next day, July 28, 1965, President Johnson walked
into the East Room accompanied by Lady Bird and several White House
aides. Beneath the room's large, ornate chandeliers waited some 200 newspaper and television reporters.
LBJ slowly approached the podium. In front of it perched a large television camera with a protruding, beak-like teleprompter. Johnson looked
into the camera, squinting under the bright klieg lights above him.
LBJ had purposely chosen this moment to announce his decision to the
nation, knowing the midday television audience to be much smaller than
in the evening. The circumstances, moreovera news conference rather than
a personal appearance before a joint session of Congressbelied the President's intent to underplay his Vietnam decision.
To that end, LBJ delivered a low-key and undramatic message. Speaking
in a subdued, matter-of-fact voice, he announced: "I have asked the Commanding General, General Westmoreland, what more he needs to meet this
mounting aggression. He has told me. We will meet his needs."
Although Johnson had authorized a vast increase in American combat
forcesfrom 75,000 to 175,000 by year's end, with the prospect of another
100,000 in 1966he deliberately obscured the magnitude of this escalation.
LBJ simply said, "I have today ordered to Viet-Nam . . . certain . . .
forces which will raise our fighting strength from 75,000 to 125,000 men. . . .
Additional forces will be needed later," he remarked, "and they will be
sent as requested."
Johnson also concealed the new and much greater U.S. combat involvement. When a reporter later asked him, "Does the fact that you are sending
additional forces to Viet-Nam imply any change in the existing policy?" the
President answered: "It does not imply any change in policy whatever."
LBJ had equivocated about Vietnam to the American publicnot for
sinister but for real and palpable reasons. Johnson alluded to those reasons
in language of personal pain. "There is something else, too," he told the
nation after discussing Vietnam:
When I was young, poverty was so common that we didn't know it had a name.
An education was something that you had to fight for, and water was really life
itself. I have now been in public life 35 years, . . . and in each of those 35
years I have seen good men, and wise leaders, struggle to bring the blessings of
this land to all of our people.
And now I am the President. It is now my opportunity to help every child get
an education, to help every Negro and every American citizen have an equal
opportunity, to have every family get a decent home, and to help bring healing
to the sick and dignity to the old.
212
As I have said before, that is what I have lived for, that is what I have
wanted all my life since I was a little boy, and I do not want to see all those
hopes and all those dreams of so many people for so many years now drowned
in the wasteful ravages of cruel wars.
LBJ's words conveyed deep emotion and conviction. They expressed the
heartfelt desires of a domestic reformer struggling against the onslaught of
a far-away and threatening war. They evoked, then, a poignant and tragic
irony which came to haunt Lyndon Johnson and the country he loved
long after this day had ended.28
President Johnson's July 1965 decisions climaxed a series of steps, reaching
back to the summer of 1964, which locked the United States on a path
toward massive military intervention in Vietnam. That path eventually
destroyed LBJ's presidency and polarized American society.
How had LBJ reached this critical juncture in America's Vietnam odyssey?
The road to 1964-1965 had been charted years before, at the dawn of the
Cold War, when U.S. leaders fixed a course of global containment that,
over the decades, assumed the status of political writunassailable, unchangeable, unquestionable.
The compass of global containment, in turn, had eventually pointed to
South Vietnam. It proved a fateful destination for the United States. Riven
by chronic political factionalism, profound social antagonisms, and a nationalist movement tragically usurped by the communists, South Vietnam
remained a quicksand of instabilitytreacherous ground on which to build
a growing American effort.
That fact escaped few U.S. leaders, who felt Washington's strategic interests mortgaged to a succession of corrupt, inept, and repressive Saigon regimes well aware, as one early 1965 Buddhist leaflet put it, that "[w]e can
insult the Americans as much as we please and they must still do our bidding and grant us aid." Dean Rusk, in a moment of private despair, dubbed
this "the tyranny of the weak." William Bundy called it the "black cloud
hanging over everything" America did. But Lyndon Johnson, characteristically, put it best: "I didn't like the smell of it. I didn't like anything about
it," he later said, "but I think the situation in South Vietnam bothered me
most. They never seemed able to get themselves together down there. Always
fighting with one another. Bad. Bad."29
And as South Vietnam's deterioration quickened in 1964-1965, the pressures to escalate intensified sharply. All through this critical period, President Johnson navigated reluctantly and furtively, continually pushed forward by events in Vietnam and growing bureaucratic momentum, while
struggling to limit and conceal the war's domestic repercussions.
It was a difficult and ambiguous course befitting LBJ's difficult and am-
"Better'n Owl"
213
biguous problem. Complex, intractable, and full of danger, the war aroused
Johnson's bitterness, resentment, and anger. He confronted Vietnam as an
unsure and troubled leader grappling with an unwanted and ominous burden. For a domestic reformer who, in the words of one acquaintance, "would
chop off the rest of the world if he could," the war represented a loathsome
threat to his dreams.30
LBJ perceived his dilemma acutely. On the one hand, he recognized the
dangers a larger war posed to the Great Society. On the other hand, he
judged a lost war ruinous to his political standing and legislative effectiveness. Johnson later described his predicament vividly: "If I left the woman
I really lovedthe Great Societyin order to get involved with that bitch
of a war on the other side of the world, then I would lose everything at
home. All my programs. All my hopes to feed the hungry and shelter the
homeless. All my dreams to provide education and medical care to the
browns and the blacks and the lame and the poor. But if I left that war
and let the Communists take over South Vietnam, . . . there would follow
in this country an endless national debatea mean and destructive debatethat would shatter my Presidency, kill my administration, and damage our
democracy." LBJ felt trapped, in Walter Lippmann's apt phrase, "between
the devil of unlimited war and the deep blue sea of defeat."31
As a result, Johnson moved cautiously and warily, constantly shifting and
hesitating in the face of momentous decisions like the beginning of bombing
in February and the deployment of major combat forces in July. At each
turning point, LBJ acted with marked reluctance, saying nothing more than
absolutely necessary, and oftentimes considerably less. That is why Johnson
appeared, to many of those around him, "always reacting, always responding" to successive Vietnam crises.32
But the ultimate crisis, in LBJ's mind, involved the "loss" of South Vietnam, which he feared would trigger a right-wing reaction devastating to
his presidency and the Great Society. This prospect terrified Johnson. He
resolved to prevent it by preserving South Vietnam at increasing military
and political risk. LBJ dreaded these increasing risks, but he dreaded defeat
even more. Johnson summed up his feelings with a bittersweet parable.
"That reminds me of two Indians," he said at one point during the July
deliberations. "The first invited the second home to dinner. 'What are you
having?' asked the second. 'Crow,' said the first. 'Crowthat's not fit to eat,
is it?' complained the second. 'Better'n owl,' replied the first."33
Haunted by his plight, LBJ tried to hide it from the country. To him,
Vietnam seemed an ugly and insoluble problem best kept from public
scrutiny. "If you have a mother-in-law with only one eye and she has it in
the center of her forehead," he grimly joked during this period, "you don't
keep her in the living room."34
214
Instead, Johnson kept Vietnam in the back closet. To some, like McGeorge Bundy, LBJ's action seemed "an extreme case of guarding one's
hand." To others, like journalist Hugh Sidey, it seemed indicative of Johnson's compulsive secretivenesshis lifelong habit of thinking "the shortest
distance between two points was through a tunnel." But the most fateful
legacy of LBJ's furtiveness, as William Bundy observed, was that it "sowed
dragon's teeth in terms of [the] credibility gap charge."35
Johnson sowed those dragon's teeth when he realized Vietnam's escalating
costs themselves jeopardized the Great Society. This stinging realization
compelled LBJ to mask the scope and price of a war he shuddered to lose.
But Johnson's behavior, in time, alienated the American public profoundly.
The resulting decline in LBJ's credibility, together with Vietnam's spiraling
costs, ultimately undid both his Presidency and the Great Society. In his
struggle to avert the disastrous "loss" of Vietnam, Johnson slid into a major
war which proved equally disastrous. Here lay the most tragic irony of
LBJ's Vietnam ordeal.
Conclusion
216
Conclusion
Conclusion
217
218
Conclusion
people. Increasing levels of U.S. troops and firepower, moreover, never offset
this fundamental debility. America, as a consequence, built its massive
military effort on a foundation of political quicksand.4
The causes of this elemental flaw lay deeply imbedded in the social and
political history of the region. Neither before nor after 1954 was South Vietnam ever really a nation in spirit. Divided by profound ethnic and religious
cleavages dating back centuries and perpetuated under French colonial rule,
the people of South Vietnam never developed a common political identity.
Instead, political factionalism and rivalry always held sway. The result: a
chronic and fatal political disorder.
Saigon's fundamental weakness bore anguished witness to the limits of
U.S. power. South Vietnam's shortcomings taught a proud and mighty nation that it could not save a people in spite of themselvesthat American
power, in the last analysis, offered no viable substitute for indigenous political resolve. Without this basic ingredient, as Saigon's turbulent history
demonstrated, Washington's most dedicated and strenuous efforts will prove
extremely vulnerable, if not futile.
This is not a happy or popular lesson. But it is a wise and prudent one,
attuned to the imperfect realities of an imperfect world. One of America's
sagest diplomats, George Kennan, understood and articulated this lesson
well when he observed: "When it comes to helping people to resist Communist pressures, . . . no assistance . . . can be effective unless the people
themselves have a very high degree of determination and a willingness to
help themselves. The moment they begin to place the bulk of the burden
on us," Kennan warned, "the whole situation is lost." This, tragically, is
precisely what befell America in South Vietnam during 1964-1965. Hereafter, as perhaps always beforeexternal U.S. economic, military, and political support provided the vital elements of stability and strength in South
Vietnam. Without that external support, as events following America's longdelayed withdrawal in 1973 showed, South Vietnam's government quickly
failed.5
Washington's effort to forge political order through military power
spawned another tragedy as well. It ignited unexpected pressures which
quickly overwhelmed U.S. policymakers, and pulled them ever deeper into
the war. LBJ and his advisers began bombing North Vietnam in early 1965
in a desperate attempt to spur political resolve in South Vietnam. But their
effort boomeranged wildly. Rather than stabilizing the situation, it instead
unleashed forces that soon put Johnson at the mercy of circumstances, a
hostage to the war's accelerating momentum. LBJ, as a result, began steering with an ever looser hand. By the summer of 1965, President Johnson
found himself not the controller of events but largely controlled by them.
He had lost the political leader's "continual struggle," in the words of Henry
Conclusion
219
220
Conclusion
Here lay the heart of America's Vietnam troubles. Driven by unquestioning allegiance to an ossified and extravagant doctrine, Washington officials
plunged deeply into a struggle which itself dramatized the changed realities
and complexities of the postwar world. Their action teaches both the importance of re-examining premises as circumstances change and the costly
consequences of failing to recognize and adapt to them.
Vietnam represented a failure not just of American foreign policy but
also of American statesmanship. For once drawn into the war, LBJ and his
advisers quickly sensed Vietnam's immense difficulties and dangersSaigon's
congenital political problems, the war's spiraling military costs, the remote
likelihood of victoryand plunged in deeper nonetheless. In their determination to preserve America's international credibilty and protect their
domestic political standing, they continued down an ever costlier path.
That path proved a distressing, multifaceted paradox. Fearing injury to
the perception of American power, diminished faith in U.S. resolve, and a
conservative political firestorm, policymakers rigidly pursued a course which
ultimately injured the substance of American power by consuming exorbitant lives and resources, shook allied confidence in U.S. strategic judgment,
and shattered liberalism's political unity and vigor by polarizing and paralyzing American society.
Herein lies Vietnam's most painful but pressing lesson. Statesmanship
requires judgment, sensibility, and, above all, wisdom in foreign affairs
Conclusion
221
the wisdom to calculate national interests prudently and to balance commitments with effective power. It requires that most difficult task of political
leaders: "to distinguish between what is desireable and what is possible, . . .
between what is desireable and what is essential."9
This is important in peace; it is indispensable in war. As the great tutor
of statesmen, Carl von Clausewitz, wrote, "Since war is not an act of senseless passion but is controlled by its political object, the value of this object
must determine the sacrifices to be made for it in magnitude and also in
duration. Once the expenditure of effort exceeds the value of the political
object," Clausewitz admonished, "the object must be renounced. . . ." His
maxim, in hindsight, seems painfully relevant to a war which, as even
America's military commander in Vietnam, General William Westmoreland,
concluded, "the vital security of the United States was not and possibly
could not be clearly demonstrated and understood. . . ,"10
LBJ and his advisers failed to heed this fundamental principle of statesmanship. They failed to weigh American costs in Vietnam against Vietnam's
relative importance to American national interests and its effect on overall
American power. Compelled by events in Vietnam and, especially, coercive
political pressures at home, they deepened an unsound, peripheral commitment and pursued manifestly unpromising and immensely costly objectives.
Their failure of statesmanship, then, proved a failure of judgment and,
above all, of proportion.
Bibliographical Note
Manuscripts
Serious study of LBJ and the Vietnam War properly centers on the vast
holdings of the Lyndon Baines Johnson Library in Austin, Texas. Teeming
with over half a million Vietnam documents expertly managed by a superb
archival staff, the LBJ Library offers unparalleled riches to enquiring and
diligent scholars.
Fortunately, nearly all of the Library's Vietnam holdings through July
1965 have been opened for research. Students of Johnson's escalation decisions, therefore, have much material to explore.
A sensible starting point is the National Security File (NSF), a massive
assemblage of cables, memoranda, and notes. Within the NSF, the Vietnam
Country Filecontaining each outgoing State Department and incoming
Saigon embassy cable during this periodpromises heavy but rewarding
labor to investigators. McGeorge Bundy's Memos to the President and personal Files, though less extensive, are equally important for tracing both
Bundy's thinking and the White House decision-making process.
Four other collections within the NSF merit special attention as well:
the NSC Meetings File, for notes of sessions where LBJ frequently disclosed
decisions to the larger government; the International Meetings and Travel
File, particularly useful on McGeorge Bundy's February 1965 mission to
South Vietnam and Saigon political figures; Speech File materials on LBJ's
April 1965 Johns Hopkins address; and the NSC History on Deployment
of Major U.S. Forces to Vietnam, July 1965a compilation of many, though
not all, key documents on this issue culled from the wider NSF.
Much important material bearing on Johnson's escalation decisions also
lies outside the NSF. Among the most significant are handwritten notes
223
224
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225
York: Hill and Wang, 1978), based on BBC radio interviews broadcast in
1977; and Merle Miller, Lyndon: An Oral Biography (New York: G. P.
Putnam's Sons, 1980), covering a much broader range of topics than its title
suggests.
Personal interviews with George Ball, Horace Busby, Clark Clifford,
Alexis Johnson, Dean Rusk, and Jack Valenti have supplemented existing
collections. Each generously shared his time and thoughts on Washington's
escalation decisions.
Government Publications
The most celebratedand controversialbody of government documents on
Vietnam, the Pentagon Papers, present special challenges to historians.
Originally a secret Defense Department study commissioned by Robert
McNamara in June 1967 and leaked to the press by Daniel Ellsberg in
1971, the Pentagon Papers are available in three published versions: the
twelve-volume "Hubert edition," United States-Vietnam Relations, 1945
1967 (Washington: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1971); the five-volume
"Gravel edition," The Pentagon Papers: The Defense Department History
of United States Decisionmaking on Vietnam (Boston: Beacon, 1971); and
the one-volume "New York Times edition," The Pentagon Papers as Published by the New York Times (New York: Bantam, 1971).
Each version has its limitations. The "Hebert edition," although generally the most comprehensive, omits much material for 1964-1965 included
in the other two, and is marred by numerous deletions of official documents. The "New York Times edition" provides better coverage for 19641965, but lacks valuable background material for 1945-1963 found elsewhere. The "Gravel edition" balances the others' deficienciesapproaching
Hubert's range without its deletions, while successfully matching, and occasionally exceeding, the New York Times' on the 19641965 period. Overall, Gravel is the best.
Whichever version, the Pentagon Papers must be used cautiously. Compilers of the study, though privy to most Defense Department and some
CIA records, lacked access to top-level State Department and all White
House files. The study, consequently, emphasizes military factors at the
expense of all-important political considerations, while inadvertently inflating the role of working-level officials in the decision-making process.
Equally problematic, the Gravel, Hebert, and New York Times editions
also lack the original study's sections on United States-North Vietnamese diplomatic contacts (although Gravel does include material on MAYFLOWER, the initial, May 1965 bombing pause). An essential corrective
to this omission, published several years later, is George C. Herring, ed.,
226
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227
228
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229
230
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231
232
Bibliographical Note
A History (New York: Viking, 1983), a much fuller and more authoritative
treatment.
General appraisals of American involvement in Vietnam have often
proved argumentative but stimulating. Early, critical accounts include
George McTurnan Kahin and John W. Lewis, The United States in Vietnam (New York: Dial, 1967), emphasizing political misjudgments; Gabriel
Kolko, Roots of American Foreign Policy: An Analysis of Power and Purpose (Boston: Beacon, 1969), a radical analysis stressing imperialist motivations, somewhat softened in Kolko's later Anatomy of a War: Vietnam, the
United States, and the Modern Historical Experience (New York: Random
House, Pantheon, 1985); Richard J. Barnet, Roots of War: The Men and
Institutions Behind U.S. Foreign Policy (New York: Atheneum, 1972), faulting the arrogance of Washington's national security elite; and Frances FitzGerald, Fire in the Lake: The Vietnamese and the Americans in Vietnam
(Boston: Atlantic/Little, Brown, 1972), underscoring cultural misperceptions.
Such critiques inevitably invited reaction, especially in the conservative
climate of the 1980s. Guenter Lewy's America in Vietnam (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1978), opened the revisionist campaign with provocative
vigor, defending the conduct of U.S. military operations, while blaming
America's failure on domestic sources. Harry G. Summers, Jr., On Strategy:
A Critical Analysis of the Vietnam War (Novato: Presidio, 1982), and Norman Podhoretz, Why We Were in Vietnam (New York: Simon and Schuster,
1983), elaborated similar themes, criticizing political leadersparticularly
President Johnsonfor denying the military an achievable victory by failing
to mobilize the nation behind the war effort.
Other works have sought a middle ground, emphasizing explanation over
accusation. They include Leslie H. Gelb with Richard K. Belts, The Irony
of Vietnam: The System Worked (Washington: Brookings Institution, 1979),
highlighting political pressures against failure; George C. Herring, America's Longest War: The United States in Vietnam, 1950-1975 (New York:
John Wiley & Sons, 1979), a short, balanced survey underscoring the legacy
of containment; and George McT. Kahin, Intervention: How America Became Involved in Vietnam (New York: Alfred A. Knopf), an impressively
detailed study sharper in its judgments of U.S. policies.
The subject of Washington decision-making, 1964-1965, has sparked considerable interest and disagreement. Most books on Vietnam address this
important topic at least briefly; interpretations, therefore, are many and
varied. Two early accounts defending the administration's position are
Henry Brandon, Anatomy of Error: The Inside Story of the Asian War
on the Potomac, 1954-1969 (Boston: Gambit, 1969), and Henry F. Graff,
The Tuesday Cabinet: Deliberation and Decision on Peace and War under
Bibliographical Note
233
234
Bibliographical Note
from Texas (New York: Macmillan, 1968), roundly faulting LBJ's simplicity
and swagger; Eric F. Goldman, The Tragedy of Lyndon Johnson (New
York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1969), a more sensitive critique lamenting LBJ's
slowness to rapidly changing circumstances; and, most important, Doris
Kearns, Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream (New York: Harper &:
Row, 1976), a penetrating study of a quintessentially American politician's
struggle with the larger world, based on candid conversations with LBJ.
More recent assessments include George Reedy, Lyndon B. Johnson: A
Memoir (New York: Andrews and McMeel, 1982), depicting a skeptical but
stoic war leader; Vaughn Davis Bornet, The Presidency of Lyndon B. Johnson (Lawrence: Univ. Press of Kansas, 1983), a moderately conservative appraisal defending LBJ's Vietnam commitment while faulting his limited-war
strategy; and Paul K. Conkin, Big Daddy from the Pedernales: Lyndon
Baines Johnson (Boston: Twayne, 1986), a breezy portrait nicely capturing
LBJ's complexities and contradictions.
Unlike those of Johnson, there are relatively few biographies of his influential Vietnam advisers. A central and enigmatic figure, Defense Secretary Robert McNamara, has been assessed in David Halberstam, "The Programming of Robert McNamara," Harper's, v. 242, n. 1449, Feb. 1971, pp.
37-71, highly critical of his technocratic approach to political issues; Henry
L. Trewhitt, McNamara (New York: Harper & Row, 1971), a more sympathetic profile drawing similar conclusions; and, more recently, Paul Hendrickson, "A Man Divided Against Himself," Washington Post Magazine,
June 12, 1988, pp. 20-31; 50-53, an unforgiving portrait of McNamara's inner turmoil over Vietnam.
Another major architect of the 1964-1965 escalation decisions, national
security adviser McGeorge Bundy, has received little attention as well. Brief,
unflattering evaluations appear in David Halberstam, "The Very Expensive
Education of McGeorge Bundy," Harper's, v. 239, n. 1430, July 1969, pp.
21-41, and Milton Viorst's sketch in Hustlers and Heroes: An American
Political Panorama (New York: Simon 8c Schuster, 1971).
Kennedy's and Johnson's Secretary of State, Dean Rusk, has been treated
in more detail. Revealing studies of this taciturn man include Joseph Kraft,
"The Enigma of Dean Rusk," Harper's, July 1965, pp. 100-103, stressing
his conventional outlook; Warren I. Cohen, Dean Rusk (Totowa: Cooper
Square, 1980), emphasizing his personal loyalty and private misgivings; and
Thomas J. Schoenbaum's semi-official biography, Waging Peace and War:
Dean Rusk in the Truman, Kennedy, and Johnson Years (New York: Simon
and Schuster, 1988), a sensitive, balanced treatment of a remote figure.
LBJ's Washington included many other interesting and important peopleCabinet officers, White House aides, "kitchen" advisers. Useful sketches
may be found Charles Roberts, LBJ's Inner Circle (New York: Delacorte,
Bibliographical Note
235
236
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237
General surveys of U.S.-North Vietnamese contacts offer a more convincing picture of American reluctance due to weak South Vietnamese morale
and a military balance favoring the communists. An early, generally accurate
journalistic account stressing these themes is David Kraslow and Stuart H.
Loory, The Secret Search for Peace in Vietnam (New York: Random House,
1968). Later studies emphasizing North Vietnamese obstinacy for similar reasons include Allan E. Goodman, The Lost Peace: America's Search for a
Negotiated Settlement of the Vietnam War (Stanford: Hoover Institution
Press, 1978), drawing on interviews with U.S. diplomats; and Wallace J.
Thies, When Governments Collide: Coercion and Diplomacy in the Vietnam Conflict, 1964-1968 (Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1980).
Few works have explored the strategic thinking behind American involvement in Southeast Asia. Two which have in searching and critical ways are
Bernard Brodie, War and Politics (New York: Macmillan, 1973), faulting
Washington's misunderstanding of the fundamentally political nature of
the war; and John Lewis Gaddis, Strategies of Containment: A Critical Appraisal of Postwar American National Security Policy (New York: Oxford
Univ. Press, 1982), highlighting contradictions in the Kennedy/Johnson doctrine of "flexible response"a limited-threat, limited-means strategy which
came to assume massive and costly proportions.
LBJ's troubles with the media over Vietnam have received increasing attention in recent years. Thorough, balanced appraisals of this tense and tempestuous relationship may be found in Kathleen J. Turner, Lyndon Johnson's Dual War: Vietnam and the Press (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press,
1985), which accents LBJ's sensitivity to criticism and lack of candor; and
Daniel C. Hallin, The "Uncensored War": The Media and Vietnam (New
York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1986), focusing on newspapers' and television's
reflection of prevailing public sentiment.
Finally, and most important, reflections on Vietnam's meaning and lessons offer guideposts for the future. Early and penetrating observations on
the war are gathered in The Vietnam Hearings (New York: Random House,
Vintage, 1966), particularly the conflicting judgments of Dean Rusk and
George Kennan; and Richard M. Pfeffer, ed., No More Vietnams?: The War
and the Future of American Foreign Policy (New York: Harper & Row,
Harper Colophon, 1968), a lively and challenging exchange among government officials, journalists, and scholars.
Debate over Vietnam's legacy continued into the 1970s, as U.S. involvement ran its course. Discerning studies from this period include Ernest R.
May, "Lessons" of the Past: The Use and Misuse of History in American
Foreign Policy (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1973), underscoring policymakers' uncritical reliance on the Munich analogy; Anthony Lake, ed., The
Vietnam Legacy: The War, American Society, and the Future of American
238
Bibliographical Note
Foreign Policy (New York: New York Univ. Press, Council on Foreign Relations, 1976), valuable for musings of several key participants; and W. Scott
Thompson and Donaldson D. Frizzell, eds., The Lessons of Vietnam (New
York: Crane, Russak, 1977), more narrowly focused on military issues, but
also comprising a broad range of viewpoints.
Reflections on the Vietnam War accelerated and deepened in the 1980s
with the growth of perspective and the decline of polemics. Four collections
capturing this maturing outlook are Peter Braestrup, ed., Vietnam as History: Ten Years After the Paris Peace Accords (Washington, D.C.: Univ.
Press of America, 1984); Harrison E. Salisbury, ed., Vietnam Reconsidered:
Lessons from a War (New York: Harper & Row, 1984); Richard E. Neustadt
and Ernest R. May, Thinking in Time: The Uses of History for Decisionmakers (New York: Free Press, 1986); and John Schlight, ed., The Second
Indochina War (Washington: U.S. Army Center of Military History, 1986).
Notes
Preface
1. Lyndon Baines Johnson, The Vantage Point: Perspectives of the Presidency,
1963-1969 (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971; rep. ed., New York:
Popular Library, 1971), ix-x.
2. Adlai Stevenson, quoted in Philip Geyelin, Lyndon B. Johnson and the World
(New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1966), 232.
3. Carl von Clausewitz, On War, ed. and trans, by Michael Howard and Peter
Paret (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1976), 165.
4. Richard Hofstadter, "History and the Social Sciences," in Fritz Stern, ed., The
Varieties of History: From Voltaire to the Present (Cleveland: World Publishing,
1956; rep. ed., New York: Random House, Vintage, 1973), 364-365.
Introduction
1. Harold D. Lasswell, quoted by Richard J. Barnet, in Richard M. Pfeffer, ed.,
No More Vietnamsf: The War and the Future of American Foreign Policy (New
York: Harper & Row, Harper Colophon, 1968), 67.
1. To the Crossroads in Vietnam
1. The dimensions of Johnson's triumph proved staggering. LBJ garnered the
largest popular vote margin in U.S. electoral history61 percent of a record 70
million votes. He carried every part of the country except Goldwater's home state
of Arizona and the conservative Deep SouthAlabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, and South Carolina. For specific results, see Theodore H. White, The Making
of the President1964 (New York: Atheneum, 1965; rep. ed., New York: New
American Library, Signet, 1966), 480-481.
2. See Presidential Message to Congress, March 12, 1947, reprinted in the Department of State Bulletin (hereafter cited as DSB), v. 16, n. 403, March 23, 1947, pp.
534-537.
3. See Report to the National Security Council by the Executive Secretary on
239
240
United States Objectives and Programs for National Security, April 14, 1950, reprinted in Naval War College Review, v. 27, n. 6, May /June 1975, pp. 51-108.
4. President's News Conference, April 7, 1954, Public Papers of the Presidents of
the United States (hereafter cited as Public Papers): Dwight D. Eisenhower, 1954
(Washington: U.S. Government Printing Office, I960), 383.
5. See Agreement on the Cessation of Hostilities in Vietnam, July 20, 1954; and
Final Declaration of the Geneva Conference, July 21, 1954, in Further Documents
Relating to the Discussion of Indochina at the Geneva Conference (London: Great
Britain Parliamentary Sessional Papers), v. 31 (1953/54), pp. 27-38 and 9-11, respectively. Britain served with Russia as co-chairmen of the Geneva Conference.
For Washington's position, see Closing Remarks of the Geneva Conference, July
21, 1954, ibid., pp. 5-9.
6. See U.S. Senate, Eighty-third Congress, Second Session, Southeast Asia Collective Defense Treaty (Washington: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1954).
7. Dwight D. Eisenhower, Mandate for Change, 1953-1956 (Garden City: Doubleday, 1963), 372.
8. The insurgents became known as Vietconga pejorative contraction of Vietnamese communists; its political arm, established under Hanoi's ultimate direction
in December 1960, assumed the title of National Front for the Liberation of South
Vietnam (NLF).
9. Debate still surrounds the number of Vietminh which remained in southern
Vietnam after Geneva. Bernard Fall estimated 5000 to 6000; Douglas Pike, another
Vietnamese scholar, calculated 15,000. See Bernard Fall, "How the French Got Out
of Vietnam," New York Times Magazine, May 2, 1965, pp. 115-116; and Douglas
Pike, History of Vietnamese Communism, 1925-1976 (Stanford: Hoover Institution
Press, 1978), 122.
10. See excerpts of Taylor/Rostow Report, reprinted in Senator Gravel Edition,
The Pentagon Papers: The Defense Department History of United States Decisionmaking on Vietnam (hereafter cited as Pentagon Papers) (Boston: Beacon, 1971),
v. 2, pp. 87-98, 652-654.
11. Transcript, Dean Rusk Oral History Interview (hereafter cited as OHI),
Sept. 26, 1969, by Paige E. Mulhollan, tape 1, p. 2, Lyndon B. Johnson Library
(hereafter cited as LBJL).
12. Quoted in U.S. News fr World Report (hereafter cited as USN&WR), March
15, 1965, p. 29.
13. Quoted in Doris Kearns, Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream (New
York: Harper & Row, 1976), 252.
14. Johnson before the House of Representatives, May 7, 1947, in Congressional
Record (hereafter cited as CR), v. 93, pt. 4, pp. 4695-4696.
15. LBJ quote is in Kearns, Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream, 143.
16. Johnson to Kennedy, May 23, 1961, "Southeast Asia," Aides File, McGeorge
Bundy (hereafter cited as ADF, MB), Box 18/19, National Security File (hereafter
cited as NSF), LBJL.
17. Quoted in Kearns, Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream, 174.
18. Johnson to Max Frankel, July 8, 1965, Notebook 3, Box 1, Arthur Krock
Papers, Seely G. Mudd Manuscript Library, Princeton University (hereafter cited
as SGMML, PU).
19. Quoted in Henry F. Graff, The Tuesday Cabinet: Deliberation and Decision
241
on Peace and War under Lyndon B. Johnson (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall,
1970), 42-43.
20. Johnson quotes are in David Halberstam, The Best and the Brightest (New
York: Random House, 1972), 41; and Kearns, Lyndon Johnson and the American
Dream, 177. See also transcript, Lyndon B. Johnson OHI, Aug. 12, 1969, by William
J. Jorden, p. 10, LBJL.
21. Quoted in Time, June 25, 1965, p. 29.
22. McGeorge Bundy's father, Harvey, had worked for Stimson both as Assistant
Secretary of State in the Hoover administration and as special assistant in the War
Department under Franklin D. Roosevelt. Stimson had recognized the young
Bundy's promise and commissioned him to prepare his autobiography for publication. See Henry L. Stimson and McGeorge Bundy, On Active Service in Peace and
War (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1948).
23. Harriet Bundy Belin, quoted in Milton Viorst, Hustlers and Heroes: An
American Political Panorama (New York: Simon 8c Schuster, 1971), 273.
24. Quoted in Time, June 25, 1965, p. 28.
25. Quote is in Graff, Tuesday Cabinet, 56.
26. See Taylor briefing for Washington, Nov. 27, 1964, Pentagon Papers, v. 3,
p. 668.
27. Embassy telegram (hereafter cited as Embtel) 2052 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk,
Jan. 6, 1965, "Deployment of Major U.S. Forces to Vietnam, July 1965" (hereafter
cited as "Deployment"), Vol. 1, Tabs 1-10, National Security Council History
(hereafter cited as NSCH), Box 40, NSF, LBJL.
28. Quotes are in CIA, Office of Central Reference, Biographic Register, "Nguyen
Khanh," Jan. 1965, "Trip, McGeorge Bundy-Saigon, Vol. 4, 2/4/65," International
Meetings and Travel File (hereafter cited as IMATF), Box 28/29, NSF, LBJL;
U. Alexis Johnson with Jef Olivarius McAllister, Right Hand of Power (Englewood
Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1984), 414; Maxwell D. Taylor, Swords and Ploughshares
(New York: W. W. Norton, 1972), 329; and Bui Diem with David Chanoff, In the
Jaws of History (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987), 109.
29. See Joint Resolution on Southeast Asia, Aug. 7, 1964, reprinted in DSB,
v. 51, n. 1313, Aug. 24, 1964, p. 268.
30. Remarks in New York City before the American Bar Association, Aug. 12,
1964, Public Papers: Lyndon B. Johnson, 1963-64 (Washington: U.S. Government
Printing Office, 1965), Book II, pp. 952-955.
31. Remarks at a Barbecue in Stonewall, Texas, Aug. 29, 1964, ibid., 1019-1024.
32. Remarks in Oklahoma at the Dedication of the Eufala Dam, Sept. 25, 1964,
ibid., 1122-1128.
33. Remarks in Manchester to Members of the New Hampshire Weekly Newspaper Editors Association, Sept. 28, 1964, ibid., 1160-1169.
34. Remarks in Memorial Hall, Univ. of Akron, Oct. 21, 1964, ibid., 1387-1393.
35. Transcript, Michael V. Forrestal OHI, Nov. 3, 1969, by Paige E. Mulhollan,
p. 21, LBJL.
36. Khanh quotes are in Jean Lacouture, Vietnam: Between Two Truces, trans.
Konrad Kellen and Joel Carmichael (New York: Random House, Vintage, 1966),
135.
37. Quotes are in Robert Shaplen, Lost Revolution: The U.S. in Vietnam, 1946
1966, rev. ed. (New York: Harper & Row, Harper Colophon, 1966), 291; and Embtel
242
1292 (Saigon), Taylor to Johnson, Oct. 28, 1964, "President/Taylor NODIS CLORES
& Code Word Messages to and from Taylor" (hereafter cited as "President/Taylor
NODIS"), Country File, Vietnam (hereafter cited as CNF, VN), Box 195, NSF,
LBJL.
38. See Taylor to State Department, Nov. 3, 1964, Pentagon Papers, v. 3, p. 591;
and above.
2. "The Day of Reckoning Is Coming"
1. William Bundy manuscript on Vietnam (hereafter cited as WB, MS-VN),
ch. 18, p. 1.
2. Radio and Television Report to the American People on Recent Events in
Russia, China, and Great Britain, October 18, 1964, Public Papers: Lyndon B.
Johnson, 1963-64, Book II, pp. 1377-1380.
3. See Time, Feb. 26, 1965, p. 25; and A.I.P.O. Survey #701-K, released Nov. 25,
1964, in George H. Gallup, ed., The Gallup Poll:>Public Opinion, 1935-1971 (hereafter cited as Gallup Poll) (New York: Random House, 1972), v. 3, 1959-1971, pp.
1908-1909. Some 59 percent judged China the gravest danger to peace; 20 percent
identified Russia.
4. Quoted in Kearns, Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream, 252-253.
5. Quoted in Tom Wicker, JFK and LBJ: The Influence of Personality upon
Politics (New York: Penguin, 1968), 205.
6. See Bundy's report, "US Objectives and Stakes in South Vietnam and Southeast Asia," excerpted in Pentagon Papers, v. 3, pp. 216-217, 622-628.
7. Mustin to Working Group, Nov. 10, 1964, reprinted in ibid., 619-621.
8. McNaughton to Working Group, Nov. 6, 7, 1964, reprinted in ibid., 598-601,
601-604.
9. Bundy to Working Group, Nov. 10, 1964, reprinted in ibid., 610-619.
10. State Department telegram (hereafter cited as Deptel) 1034, Rusk to Taylor,
Nov. 8, 1964, "President/Taylor NODIS," CNF, VN, Box 195, NSF, LBJL.
11. Quoted in Halberstam, Best, 424-425.
12. Johnson to Turner Catledge, Dec. 5, 1964, Notebook 3, Box 1, Arthur Krock
Papers, SGMML, PU.
13. Quote is in Rowland Evans and Robert Novak, Lyndon B. Johnson: The
Exercise of Power (New York: New American Library, 1966), 490.
14. These comments are curious. All three menMcGeorge Bundy, Rusk, and
William Bundyactually knew otherwise. Ball had completed a long memorandum
challenging prevailing assumptions about Vietnam and pleading the case against
escalation on October 5. He had given copies of his memo to Rusk, McNamara, and
McGeorge Bundy, which they had discussed together on November 7, just twelve
days before this meeting with the President. William Bundy, if not privy to Ball's
paper, had received a lengthy analysis advocating a negotiated exit from Robert
Johnson of the State Department's Policy Planning Council only the day before.
Ball, for his part, chose not to pass his memo on to LBJ for another three and a
half months. See George W. Ball, The Past Has Another Pattern: Memoirs (New
York: W. W. Norton, 1982), 380, 383, 392; and Robert Johnson to William Bundy,
Nov. 18, 1964, "Meeting of the Principals Book," CNF, VN, Box 202, NSF, LBJL.
15. For an account of this November 19 White House meeting, see Memorandum
243
for the Record (by James C. Thomson, Jr.), drafted Nov. 24, 1964, "Miscellaneous
Meetings," ADF, MB, Box 18/19, NSF, LBJL.
16. The participants at this session included Rusk and Ball from the State Department, McNamara and JCS Chairman General Earle Wheeler from the Pentagon,
CIA Director John McCone, and McGeorge Bundy.
17. See McGeorge Bundy's notes of this meeting, scrawled in the margin of his
copy of William Bundy to Rusk et al., Nov. 24, 1964, "Courses of Action in Southeast Asia 11/64," CNF, VN, Box 45/46, NSF, LBJL.
18. Quoted in New York Times (hereafter cited as NYT), Nov. 27, 1964, p. 17.
19. President's News Conference at the LBJ Ranch, Nov. 28, 1964, Public Papers:
Lyndon B. Johnson, 1963-64, Book II, pp. 1611-1620.
20. William Bundy and John McNaughton, "Courses of Action in Southeast
Asia," Nov. 26, 1964, reprinted in Pentagon Papers, v. 3, pp. 656-666.
21. WB, MS-VN, ch. 19, p. 2.
22. Maxwell Taylor, "The Current Situation in South VietnamNovember 1964,"
reprinted in Pentagon Papers, v. 3, pp. 666-673. Taylor had been promoting the
idea of escalation, despite Saigon's political weakness, for weeks. As he had cabled
Rusk on November 10, "If the government falters and gives good reason to believe
that it will never attain the desired level of performance, I would favor going
against the North anyway." "The purpose of such an attack," he added, "would be
to give pulmotor treatment [to] a government in extremis and to make sure that the
DRV does not get off unscathed in any final settlement." Embtel 1445 (Saigon),
Taylor to Rusk, Nov. 10, 1964, "President/Taylor NODIS," CNF, VN, Box 195,
NSF, LBJL. See also Embtel 1440 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, Nov. 9, 1964, "Vol. 21,"
CNF, VN, Box 10, ibid.
23. Before Taylor had left Saigon, Westmoreland had advised him the South
Vietnamese government should be "on a reasonably firm political, military, and
psychological base before we risk the great strains that may be incurred" by bombing North Vietnam. Westmoreland explained his reluctance in his memoirs. "[S]uch
tangential benefits as a bombing program might produce were to my mind too
minor to justify risking a North Vietnamese reaction [i.e. increased infiltration] that
might overwhelm the existing unstable government." General William C. Westmoreland, A Soldier Reports (New York: Doubleday, 1976; rep. ed., New York: Dell
Publishing, 1980), 142, 143.
24. See "Memorandum of Meeting on Southeast Asia" (by William Bundy), Nov.
27, 1964, reprinted in Pentagon Papers, v. 3, pp. 674-676.
25. William Bundy, "Draft Position Paper on Southeast Asia," Nov. 29, 1964,
reprinted in ibid., 678-679.
26. Those present included Rusk and William Bundy from State; McNamara,
Wheeler, and McNaughton from Defense; Ambassador Taylor; CIA Director
McCone; McGeorge Bundy; and Vice President-elect Hubert Humphrey.
27. See John McNaughton's and McGeorge Bundy's handwritten notes of this
meeting, in Box 1, Meeting Notes File (hereafter cited as MNF), LBJL; and Papers
of McGeorge Bundy (hereafter cited as MB-MSS), ibid., respectively.
3. "Stable Government or No Stable Government"
1. Johnson to Rusk, McNamara, and McCone, Dec. 7, 1964, "Vol. 23, Memos,
12/1-18/64," CNF, VN, Box 11, NSF, LBJL.
244
2. Mansfield to Johnson, Dec. 9, 1964, "CO 312 VIETNAM (1964-1965)," Confidential File (hereafter cited as CFF), Box 12, White House Central File (hereafter
cited as WHCF), LBJL.
3. McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, Dec. 16, 1964, "Memos to the President, Vol. 7,
10/1-12/31/64," ADF, MB, Box 2, NSF, LBJL.
4. Johnson to Taylor, Dec. 3, 1964, ibid.
5. See Taylor's report to South Vietnamese leaders, excerpted in Pentagon Papers,
v. 2, pp. 343-345; v. 3, pp. 90-92. Khanh quote is in CIA Weekly Report on South
Vietnam, Dec. 9, 1964, CIA Research Reports: Vietnam and Southeast Asia, 19461976 (hereafter cited as CIARR) (Frederick, Md.: Univ. Publications of America,
1982), reel 4, frame 472.
6. See "Tarn Chau," CIA, Office of Central Reference, Biographic Register, Jan.
29, 1965, "Trip, McGeorge Bundy-Saigon, Vol. 4, 2/4/65," IMATF, Box 28/29,
NSF, LBJL. Quote is in Time, Dec. 4, 1964, p. 38.
7. Quoted in Time, Dec. 11, 1964, p. 39.
8. See "Thich Tri Quang," CIA, Office of Central Reference, Biographic Register, Jan. 29, 1965, "Trip, McGeorge Bundy-Saigon, Vol. 4, 2/4/65," IMATF, Box
28/29, NSF, LBJL.
9. Ibid. Khanh had made a similar advance to ARVN's I Corps Commander,
General Nguyen Chanh Thi, in late November. See CIA Intelligence Information
Cable, Dec. 3, 1964, CIARR, reel 4, frame 398.
10. See "Summary of Conversation, Sunday, December 20" (by Robert H. Miller),
transmitted to Washington as Embassy Airgram (hereafter cited as Embair) A-493,
"Vol. 25, Memos, 12/26/64-1/9/65," CNF, VN, Box 12, NSF, LBJL; and Ky's remarks in Michael Charlton 8c Anthony Moncrieff, Many Reasons Why: The American Involvement in Vietnam (New York: Hill and Wang, 1978), 218.
11. Quote is in Embtel 1877 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk et al., Dec. 20, 1964,
"President/Taylor NODIS," CNF, VN, Box 195, NSF, LBJL.
12. See Embtel 1881 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, Dec. 21, 1964, "Vol. 24, Cables,
12/19-25/64," CNF, VN, Box 11, NSF, LBJL.
13. Quotes are in New York Herald Tribune (hereafter cited as NYHT), Dec.
23, 1964, p. 4; and NYT, Dec. 23, 1964, p. 4.
14. Quoted in Ronald Steel, Walter Lippmann and the American Century (Boston: Atlantic/Little, Brown, 1980; rep. ed., New York: Random House, Vintage,
1981), 556.
15. See Nov. 1964, Survey Research Center poll, cited in John E. Mueller,
"Trends in Popular Support for the Wars in Korea and Vietnam," American Political Science Review, v. 65, n. 2, June 1971, p. 363; and Nov. 29 and Dec. 3, 1964,
Gallup releases, in Department of State, "American Opinion Survey," Dec. 3, 1964,
"Meeting of the Principals Book," CNF, VN, Box 201/202, NSF, LBJL.
16. See Annual Budget Message to the Congress, Fiscal Year 1966, submitted
Jan. 25, 1965, Public Papers: Lyndon B. Johnson, 1965 (Washington: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1966), Book I, pp. 82-99.
17. Quoted in Halberstam, Best, 507.
18. JPS 663, Taylor to William and McGeorge Bundy, Dec. 18, 1964, "President/
Taylor NODIS," CNF, VN, Box 195, NSF, LBJL.
19. Joseph Alsop, "Accepting Defeat," Washington Post (hereafter cited as WP),
Dec. 23, 1964, p. A21.
20. Joseph Alsop, "Johnson's Cuba II," WP, Dec. 30, 1964, p. A19.
245
21. Hoyt to Johnson, with Hosokawa enclosure, Dec. 19, 1964, "Vol. 25, Memos,
12/26/64-1/9/65," CNF, VN, Box 12, NSF, LBJL.
22. Johnson to McGeorge Bundy, Dec. 29, 1964, ibid.
23. Embtel 1988 (Saigon), Taylor to Johnson, Dec. 30, 1964, "President/Taylor
NODIS," CNF, VN, Box 195, NSF, LBJL.
24. CAP-64375, Johnson to Taylor, Dec. 31, 1964, "Vol. 1 (B), NODIS-LOR 1/653/65," CNF, VN, Box 45, NSF, LBJL. McGeorge Bundy, who drafted this message
for the President, had originally included stronger language in the cable: "Any
recommendation that you or General Westmoreland make . . . will have very favorable consideration . . ."; "I myself am ready to double the number of Americans
in Vietnam. . . ." LBJ's approved telegram, though similar in spirit, reflected much
greater ambiguity and caution. See CAP-64374, McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, Dec.
30, 1964, "President/Taylor NODIS," CNF, VN, Box 195, NSF, LBJL.
25. Embtel 2058 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, Jan. 6, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 1,
Tabs 1-10, NSCH, Box 40, NSF, LBJL.
26. Quote is in Embtel 2059 (Saigon), Taylor to Johnson, Jan. 6, 1965, "NODISLOR, 1/65-2/65," CNF, VN, Box 45, NSF, LBJL.
27. Embtel 2052 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, Jan. 6, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 1,
Tabs 1-10, NSCH, Box 40, NSF, LBJL.
28. For a record of this January 6 meeting, see MB-MSS, LBJL.
29. Deptel 1419, Johnson to Taylor, Jan. 7, 1965, "NODIS-LOR 1/65-2/65," CNF,
VN, Box 45/46, NSF, LBJL.
30. When LBJ edited Bundy's draft presidential message, he struck out the Special Assistant's call for a "[jjoint announcement in Saigon of [the] US/GVN decision." See Draft 2 of Johnson to Taylor, Jan. 7, 1965, "Vol. 1 (B), NODIS-LOR
1/65-3/65," ibid.
31. See Annual Message to the Congress on the State of the Union, Jan. 4, 1965,
Public Papers: Lyndon B. Johnson, 1965, Book I, pp. 1-9.
32. The President's Inaugural Address, Jan. 20, 1965, ibid., 71-74.
33. WB, MS-VN, ch. 20, p. 2.
34. Those present included Senators Aiken, Dirksen, Kuchel, Long, Mansfield,
Saltonstall, and Smathers; Representatives Albert, Arends, Boggs, Ford, Laird, and
McCormack; Vice President Humphrey; Secretary of State Rusk; Defense Secretary
McNamara; CIA Director McCone; and McGeorge Bundy, Horace Busby, Douglass
Cater, Bill Moyers, Lawrence O'Brien, George Reedy, and Jack Valenti of the
White House staff.
35. See "President's Meeting with Congressional Leaders" (by Bromley Smith),
Jan. 22, 1965, "Miscellaneous Meetings, Vol. 1," ADF, MB, Box 18, NSF, LBJL.
36. Quotes are in Newsweek, Jan. 18, 1965, p. 32; and NYHT, Dec. 21, 1964, p. 6.
37. See Chester Cooper and McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, "Political Developments in South Vietnam," Jan. 8, 1965, "Vol. 25, Memos, 12/26/64-1/9/65," CNF,
VN, Box 12, NSF, LBJL; and CIA Intelligence Information Cable, Jan. 21, 1965,
C1ARR, reel 4, frames 622-628.
38. For Alexis Johnson's report of this encounter, see Embtel 2102 (Saigon),
Taylor to Rusk, Jan. 9, 1965, "Vol. 25, Cables, 12/26/64-1/9/65," CNF, VN, Box
11, NSF, LBJL.
39. Tri Quang had assured an American embassy officer, during a private interview on January 16, that the Buddhists planned no more demonstrations through
Tet (Jan. 31-Feb. 6). Quang had no intention, he claimed, of disturbing the faith-
246
fuls' enjoyment of the New Year holidays. See Memorandum of Conversation (by
James D. Rosenthal), transmitted to Washington as Embair A-563, "Vol. 26, Memos,
1/10-31/65," CNF, VN, Box 12, NSF, LBJL.
40. Quoted in Shaplen, Lost Revolution, 301.
41. Ibid.
42. See McNaughton's summary of this meeting, reprinted in Pentagon Papers,
v. 3, pp. 686-687.
43. McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, Jan. 27, 1965, "Memos to the President, Vol. 8,
1/1-2/28/65," ADF, MB, Box 2, NSF, LBJL.
44. Transcript, George Ball OHI, July 8, 1971, by Paige E. Mulhollan, tape 1,
p. 27, LBJL.
45. See McGeorge Bundy's notes of this Jan. 27 meeting, in MB-MSS, LBJL.
46. Deptel 1570, McGeorge Bundy to Taylor, Jan. 30, 1965, "Trip, McGeorge
Bundy-Saigon, Vol. 2, 2/4/65," IMATF, Box 28/29, NSF, LBJL.
47. Quoted in Halberstam, Best, 530.
4. "A Bear by the Tail"
1. See Bundy's comments in Bromley Smith to Johnson, Feb. 4, 1965, "Trip,
McGeorge Bundy-Saigon, Vol. 1, 2/4/65," IMATF, Box 28/29, NSF, LBJL.
2. Ibid.
3. See Embtel 2420 (Saigon), McNaughton to McNamara and Vance, Feb. 7,
1965, ibid.
4. Quotes are in Halberstam, Best, 533.
5. Those present included McNamara, Vance, and Wheeler from the Pentagon;
Ball, William Bundy, and Ambassador Llewellyn Thompson from the State DepartmentRusk being ill and in Florida until February 15; Treasury Secretary
Douglas Dillon; USIA Director Carl Rowan; Marshall Carter and William Colby
of the CIA; Senator Mike Mansfield and Speaker John McCormack from Capitol
Hill; and Bill Moyers of the White House staff.
6. Ball explained his irresolution in his memoirs. "Faced with a unanimous view,"
he wrote, "I saw no option but to go along. . . ." Ball, Past, 390. The recommendation for reprisal was not unanimous; one participantMike Mansfielddissented
vigorously.
7. See "Summary Notes of 545th NSC Meeting" (by Bromley Smith), Feb. 6, 1965,
Box 1, MNF, LBJL; and Johnson, Vantage Point, 124-125.
8. The participants at this meeting included McNamara, Vance, Wheeler, Ball,
William Bundy, Thompson, Dillon, Rowen, Carter, Colby, Mansfield, McCormack,
House Minority Leader Gerald Ford, Moyers, and Jack Valenti.
9. See "Summary Notes of 546th NSC Meeting" (by Bromley Smith), Feb. 7, 1965,
"Vol. 3, Tab 28, 2/7/65, Vietnam Reprisals," NSC Meetings File (hereafter cited
as NSCMF), Box 1, NSF, LBJL; and transcript, William Bundy OHI, May 29, 1969,
by Paige E. Mulhollan, tape 2, p. 12, ibid.
10. McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, Feb. 7, 1965, "Vol. 3, Tab 29, 2/8/65, Situation
in Vietnam, Tab B," ibid.; and Annex A, "A Policy of Sustained Reprisal" (drafted
by McNaughton for Bundy), "McGeorge BundyMemos to the President, Vol. 8,
1/1-2/28/65," ADF, MB, Box 2, NSF, LBJL.
11. Quote is in Johnson, Vantage Point, 128.
12. Those attending included Ball, Thompson, William Bundy, and Leonard
247
Unger from State; McNamara, Vance, McNaughton, Wheeler, and Andrew Goodpaster from Defense; CIA Director McCone; Treasury Secretary Dillon; David Bell
and William Gaud from the Agency for International Development (AID); USIA
Director Rowan; Speaker McCormack and Minority Leader Ford from the House;
Senators Mansfield and Everett Dirksen; and McGeorge Bundy, Movers, Valenti,
Chester Cooper, and Lawrence O'Brien of the President's staff.
13. See "Summary Notes of 547th NSC Meeting," Feb. 8, 1965, "Vol. 3, Tab 29,
2/8/65, Situation in Vietnam," NSCMF, Box 1, NSF, LBJL.
14. Deptel 1653, Johnson to Taylor, Feb. 8, 1965, "NODIS-LOR, Vol. 1 (A),
1/65-3/65," CNF, VN, Box 45/46, NSF, LBJL.
15. The participants at this meeting included most of the administration officials
present two days before, in addition to Vice President Humphrey, who had returned
from a political trip to Minnesota, and Admiral David McDonald, Chief of Naval
Operations, sitting in for JCS Chairman Wheeler.
16. See "Summary Record of National Security Council Meeting No. 548," Feb.
10, 1965, "Vol. 3, Tab 30, 2/10/65, Vietnam," NSCMF, Box 1, NSF, LBJL.
17. See White House Statement, Feb. 7, 1965, reprinted in NYT, Feb. 8, 1965,
p. 14; and White House Statement, Feb. 11, 1965, reprinted in NYT, Feb. 12, 1965,
p. 13.
18. Quoted in Geyelin, Lyndon B. Johnson and the World, 219.
19. Transcript, William Bundy OHI, May 29, 1969, by Paige E. Mulhollan, tape
2, p. 14, LBJL.
20. Ball to Johnson, Feb. 13, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 1, Tabs 42-60, NSCH,
Box 40, NSF, LBJL.
21. Deptel 1718, Ball to Taylor, Feb. 13, 1965, "NODIS-LOR, Vol. 1 (B), 1/653/65," CNF, VN, Box 45, NSF, LBJL.
22. Humphrey to Johnson, Feb. 15, 1965, reprinted in Hubert H. Humphrey,
The Education of a Public Man: My Life and Politics, ed. Norman Sherman
(Garden City: Doubleday, 1976), 320-324.
23. Quotes are in Eric F. Goldman, The Tragedy of Lyndon Johnson (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1969), 484; and Mark Lorell, Charles Kelley, Jr., and Deborah
Hensler, Casualties, Public Opinion, and Presidential Policy During the Vietnam
War (Santa Monica: Rand Corporation, 1985), 45.
24. That need rested, primarily, with Defense Secretary McNamara, who had told
Bundy the previous afternoon that "we should have a military action soon" in order
"to get off [this] tit-for-tat kick." See Feb. 15 notes, in MB-MSS, LBJL.
25. McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, Feb. 16, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 1, Tabs
42-60, NSCH, Box 40, NSF, LBJL.
26. For notes of this February 16 conference, see MB-MSS, LBJL. State Department representatives Rusk, Ball, Thompson, and William Bundy also attended this
midday session.
27. See confidential Louis Harris polls in Moyers to Johnson, Feb. 16, 1965, "ND
19/CO 312 VIETNAM (Situation in 1964-1965)," CFF, Box 71, WHCF, LBJL.
Much of this material later appeared in the WP, Feb. 23, 1965, p. A9.
28. Quote is in Charles Roberts, LBJ's Inner Circle (New York: Delacorte, 1965),
25.
29. Quotes are in Hugh Sidey, A Very Personal Presidency: Lyndon Johnson in
the White House (New York: Atheneum, 1968), 207; and Johnson, Vantage Point,
130.
248
30. See "Memorandum of Meeting with the President, 17 February 1965" (by
General Andrew Goodpaster, liaison between Eisenhower and Johnson), "February
17, 196510:00 A.M. Meeting with General Eisenhower and Others," Box 1, MNF,
LBJL.
31. See MB-MSS, LBJL; Memorandum for the Record (by McGeorge Bundy),
dated Feb. 20, 1965, "Memos for the Record, 1964 [sic]," ADF, MB, Box 18, NSF,
LBJL; and Deptel 1268, Rusk to Martin (America's Ambassador to Thailand), Feb.
18, 1965, reprinted in Pentagon Papers, v. 3, p. 324.
32. Quoted in Time, Jan. 8, 1965, p. 20.
33. Diem, In the Jaws of History, 124.
34. See "Phan Huy Quat," CIA, Office of Central Reference, Biographic Register,
Jan. 29, 1965, "Trip, McGeorge Bundy-Saigon, Vol. 4, 2/4/65," IMATF, Box
28/29, NSF, LBJL.
35. Quoted in Shaplen, Lost Revolution, 307.
36. For information about Pham Ngoc Thao's role as a secret communist agent,
see Truong Nhu Tang with David Chanoff and Doan Van Toai, A Vietcong Memoir
(San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1985), 42-62; and Stanley Karnow, Vietnam: A History (New York: Viking, 1983), 38.
37. The Thao-Ky exchange is quoted in Tang, Vietcong Memoir, 60. Tang, who
was in the phone booth with Thao, overheard the conversation.
38. Quoted in Karnow, Vietnam, 384. According to one source, General Thieu's
brother, the Young Turks had been plotting to depose Khanh from at least November 1964. Ky, for his part, had informed American officials on February 3 that
Khanh was "almost finished." He had lost the AFC's support, Ky said, and was now
"une carte brulee." See CIA Weekly Report on Situation in South Vietnam, Dec. 9,
1964, C1ARR, reel 4, frame 471; and CIA Report, Feb. 3, 1965, "Trip, McGeorge
Bundy-Saigon, Vol. 1, 2/4/65," IMATF, Box 28/29, NSF, LBJL.
39. Huynh Tan Phat to Nguyen Khanh, Jan. 28, 1965, reprinted in George
McT. Kahin, Intervention: How America Became Involved in Vietnam (New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1986), 295-296.
40. For the Young Turks' soundings of alarm to Taylor, which the ambassador
repeated to Washington, see Embtel 2386 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, Feb. 2, 1965;
Embtel 2382 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, Feb. 3, 1965; and Embtel 2389 (Saigon),
Taylor to Rusk, Feb. 3, 1965, "Trip, McGeorge Bundy-Saigon, Vol. 1, 2/4/65,"
IMATF, Box 28/29, NSF, LBJL.
41. Quoted in John M. Taylor, General Maxwell Taylor: The Sword and the Pen
(New York: Doubleday, 1989), 307.
42. See Deptel 1757, Rusk to Taylor, Feb. 19, 1965, "Vol. 1 (B), NODIS-LOR
1/65-3/65," CNF, VN, Box 45, NSF, LBJL.
43. See Deptel 1783, Rusk to Taylor, Feb. 20, 1965, ibid.
44. Quoted in Evans and Novak, Lyndon B. Johnson, 536.
45. Rusk to Johnson, Feb. 23, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 2, Tabs 61-87, NSCH,
Box 40, NSF, LBJL.
46. See Deptel 1815, Rusk to Taylor, Feb. 24, 1965, "Vol. 1 (B), NODIS-LOR
1/65-3/65," CNF, VN, Box 45, NSF, LBJL, reporting the President's bombing
decision.
47. Transcript, George Ball OHI, July 8, 1971, by Paige E. Mulhollan, tape 1,
pp. 15-17, LBJL.
48. Ball, Past, 384.
249
250
251
31. See McGeorge Bundy's notes of this April 1 meeting in MB-MSS, LBJL.
32. The attendants at this April 2 NSC session included Rusk, Taylor, McGeorge
and William Bundy, Vance, McNaughton, Wheeler, McCone, Moyers, Valenti,
Cooper, Gaud, Rowan, newly appointed Treasury Secretary Henry Fowler, and
House Naval Affairs Committee Chairman Carl Vinson.
33. Although McCone did not specifically reveal the Marines' new combat mission to the NSC group, he made clear his reservations about the changed strategy
in a memo to Rusk, McNamara, McGeorge Bundy, and Taylor that same day.
Without a substantial increase in air attacks, McCone wrote, Hanoi would continue
to "build up the Viet Cong capabilities . . . and thus bring an ever-increasing pressure on our forces." "In effect," he said, "we will find ourselves mired down in [a]
combat . . . effort that we cannot win, and from which we will have extreme difficulty in extracting ourselves." "Therefore it is my judgment that if we are to change
the mission of the ground forces, we must also change the ground rules of the strikes
against North Vietnam." McCone to Rusk et al., April 2, 1965, "Deployment," Vol.
2, Tabs 120-140, NSCH, Box 40, NSF, LBJL.
34. See "Summary of NSC Meeting on April 2, 1965," drafted by Chester Cooper
on April 5, "Vol. 3, Tab 33, 4/2/65, Situation in South Vietnam," NSCMF, Box 1,
NSF, LBJL.
35. Deptel 2184, Rusk to Deputy Ambassador Johnson, April 3, 1965, "Vol. 32,
Cables, 4/1-20/65," CNF, VN, Box 16, NSF, LBJL.
36. See McNamara to Wheeler, April 5, 1965, cited in Pentagon Papers, v. 3,
p. 408.
37. See JCS Memorandum 238-65, cited in ibid., 407.
38. Draft National Security Action Memorandum (NSAM) 328, by McGeorge
Bundy, April 5, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 1, Tabs 1-10, NSCH, Box 40, NSF, LBJL.
The final, slightly edited version, dated April 6, is reprinted in Pentagon Papers,
v. 3, pp. 702-703.
6. "If I Were Ho Chi Minh, I Would Never Negotiate"
1. Quote is in Goldman, Tragedy, 404.
2. Transcript, Cyrus Vance OHI, March 9, 1970, by Paige E. Mulhollan, Interview 3, p. II, LBJL.
3. Theodore Draper, in Pfeffer, ed., No More Vietnamsf, 28.
4. Quoted in George C. Herring, ed., The Secret Diplomacy of the Vietnam War:
The Negotiating Volumes of the Pentagon Papers (Austin: Univ. of Texas Press,
1983), 9.
5. See State Department Chronology of Thant Initiative, [December 1965?],
"United Nations-Vol. 1, 1965," Agency File (hereafter cited as AGF), Box 71, NSF,
LBJL.
6. Quoted in David Kraslow and Stuart H. Loory, The Secret Search for Peace
in Vietnam (New York: Random House, 1968), 101.
7. See Adlai Stevenson, Memorandum of Conversation with U Thant, Feb. 16,
1965, "United Nations-Vol. 1, 1965," AGF, Box 71, NSF, LBJL.
8. Thant Statement on Vietnam, Feb. 12, 1965, reprinted in NYT, Feb. 13,
1965, p. 6.
9. See note 7 above.
10. Comment is William Bundy's, in WB, MS-VN, ch. 22, p. 20. His assertion
252
253
32. Embtel 3421 (Saigon), Taylor to McGeorge Bundy, April 17, 1965, "NODISLOR, Vol. 2, 3/65-9/65," CNF, VN, Box 46, NSF, LBJL; and Taylor, Swords, 341.
33. See CAP 65120, McGeorge Bundy to Taylor, April 17, 1965, "NODIS-LOR,
Vol. 2, 3/65-9/65," CNF, VN, Box 46, NSF, LBJL; and McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, April 14, 1965, "Memos to the President, v. 9, Mar.-Apr. 14, 1965," ADF, MB,
Box 3, ibid.
34. See Embtel 3248 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, April 7, 1965, "Vol. 32," CNF, VN,
Box 16, NSF, LBJL.
35. To supplement these U.S. deployments, the conferees also recommended three
South Korean battalions to Quangngai and an Australian battalion to Vungtau. See
John McNaughton, "Minutes of April 20, 1965, Honolulu Meeting," in "McNaughton XV-Miscellaneous, 1964-1966," John McNaughton Files, Papers of Paul Warnke
(hereafter cited as JMF, PPW), Box 7, LBJL.
36. McNamara to Johnson, April 21, 1965, "Vietnam 2EE, 1965-67," CNF, VN,
Box 74/75, NSF, LBJL. This memo, curiously absent McNamara's advice regarding
congressional consultation, is reprinted in Pentagon Papers, v. 3, pp. 705-706.
37. Others present that morning included Rusk and Ball from State; Vance from
the Pentagon; retiring CIA Director McCone and his designated successor, Vice
Admiral William F. Raborn; and McGeorge Bundy.
38. Johnson quote is in Ball, Past, 393. In his memoirs, Ball incorrectly dates
this meeting on April 20.
39. For notes of this April 21 meeting, see MB-MSS, LBJL.
40. Ball to Johnson, April 21, 1965, "Political Track Papers, 4/65," CNF, VN,
Box 213, NSF, LBJL.
41. Ball, Past, 394.
42. See draft of Rusk to Taylor, April 22, 1965, "Vol. 32," CNF, VN, Box 16,
NSF, LBJL; and the final, amended version, Deptel 2397, Rusk to Taylor, April
22, 1965, "NODIS-LOR, Vol. 2 (B)," CNF, VN, Box 45/46, NSF, LBJL.
43. President's News Conference, April 27, 1965, Public Papers: Lyndon B. Johnson, 1965, Book I, pp. 448-456.
7. "What in the World Is Happening?"
1. Evans and Novak, Lyndon B. Johnson, 511.
2. Quoted in Time, May 14, 1965, p. 23.
3. See A.I.P.O. Survey #711-K, conducted May 13 to May 18, 1965, in Gallup
Poll, 1942.
4. See Remarks to Committee Members on the Need for Additional Appropriations for Military Purposes in Viet-Nam and the Dominican Republic, May 4, 1965,
Public Papers: Lyndon B. Johnson, 1965, Book I, pp. 484-492.
5. See Special Message to the Congress Requesting Additional Appropriations for
Military Needs in Viet-Nam, May 4, 1965, ibid., 494-498.
6. Pell quote is in Paul Kesaris, ed., Top Secret Hearings by the U.S. Senate
Committee on Foreign Relations: First Installment, 1959-1966 (Frederick, Md.:
Univ. Publications of America, 1981), April 30, 1965, pp. 33-34.
7. On Thant's growing restiveness, see Stevenson to Johnson, April 28, 1965,
"United NationsRepresentative of the United States to the United Nations (Stevenson), 11/63-4/65," AGF, Box 71, NSF, LBJL.
254
8. See McCone to Johnson, April 28, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 4, Tabs 221-241,
NSCH, Box 41, NSF, LBJL.
9. Raborn to Johnson, May 8, 1965, ibid.
10. Deptel 2553, Johnson to Taylor, May 10, 1965, "NODIS-MAYFLOWER,"
CNF, VN, Box 190, NSF, LBJL.
11. These, and other, considerations are addressed in John McNaughton's memo
to McGeorge Bundy, "Risks in 'Possible Pause Scenario,' " April 25, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 3, Tabs 200-220, NSCH, Box 41, NSF, LBJL.
12. See WB, MS-VN, ch. 24, pp. 14-15.
13. The text of Washington's peace feeler is reprinted in Herring, ed., Secret
Diplomacy, 57-58.
14. Pham Van Dong, April 20, 1965, quoted in CIA memorandum, "Selected
North Vietnamese References to Negotiations in the South," June 16, 1965, "Southeast Asia, Special Intelligence Material, Vol. 6 (A), 4/65-6/65," CNF, VN, Box 49,
NSF, LBJL.
15. VNA International Service in English, April 29, May 4 and 6, 1965; Pham
Van Dong, May 8, 1965, excerpted in ibid.
16. See VNA International Service in English, May 15, 1965, quoted in Herring,
ed., Secret Diplomacy, 65; and CIA memorandum, "Selected North Vietnamese References," June 16, 1965, "Southeast Asia, Special Intelligence Material, Vol. 6 (A),
4/65-6/65," CNF, VN, Box 49, NSF, LBJL.
17. See Liberation Radio, May 14, 1965, excerpted in CIA memorandum, "Selected References by the South Vietnamese National Liberation Front on Negotiations in the South," ibid.
18. See Andrew Goodpaster, Memorandum of Meeting with General Eisenhower,
May 12, 1965, drafted May 13, 1965, "President Eisenhower," Name File (hereafter
cited as NF), Box 3, NSF, LBJL.
19. See A.I.P.O. Survey #710-KB, conducted April 23 to April 28, 1965, in Gallup
Poll, 1940.
20. Those present included Rusk, McNamara, Ball, Raborn, Valenti, and former
Secretary of State Dean Acheson, who had recently prepared, along with Ball, a
South Vietnamese reconstruction plan for LBJ's consideration. McGeorge Bundy
had flown to Santo Domingo the previous day to mediate the continuing Dominican
crisis.
21. See Jack Valenti's notes of this meeting in "Meeting Notes 4/30-5/15/65
[sic]," Box 13, Office Files of the President (hereafter cited as OFP), LBJL.
22. For Washington's execute message, see JCS 2230, cited in Deptel 2600, Rusk
to Taylor, May 17, 1965, "NODIS-MAYFLOWER," CNF, VN, Box 190, NSF,
LBJL.
23. Bo quotes are in CIA memorandum, "An Assessment of Mai Van Bo's 18 May
Approach to the French Government," May 27, 1965, "Vol. 34, Memos (A), 5/65,"
CNF, VN, Box 17, NSF, LBJL; and Embtel 6612 (Paris), May 20, 1965, reprinted
in Herring, ed., Secret Diplomacy, 89. French translations courtesy Department of
French, University of California, Los Angeles.
24. William Bundy to Charles E. Bohlen, June 9, 1965, cited in William Conrad
Gibbons, The U.S. Government and the Vietnam War: Executive and Legislative
Roles and Relationships, Part III, January-July 1965 (Washington: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1988), 258-259. Bo, interestingly, revisited Manac'h on June
14, to inquire whether the American government had any reply to their May 18
255
conversation. He also asked Manac'h to reveal the name of the U.S. diplomat the
Quai had notified. Manac'h did not. See Embtel 7071 (Paris), June 14, 1965, excerpted in Herring, ed., Secret Diplomacy, 90.
25. See VNA International Service in English, May 22, 1965, quoted in CIA
memorandum, "Selected North Vietnamese References," June 16, 1965, "Southeast
Asia, Special Intelligence Material, Vol. 6 (A), 4/65-6/65," CNF, VN, Box 49,
NSF, LBJL.
26. See John McNaughton, "Criticism of the Initiative by 'the Unsympathetic,'"
April 25, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 3, Tabs 200-220, NSCH, Box 41, NSF, LBJL.
27. Clifford to Johnson, May 17, 1965, "Vietnam 2E, 5/65-7/65, 1965 Troop Decision," CNF, VN, Box 74/75, NSF, LBJL.
28. Quoted in Shaplen, Lost Revolution, 321.
29. See CIA Intelligence Information Cable, May 6, 1965, "Vol. 34, Cables, 5/65,"
CNF, VN, Box 17, NSF, LBJL.
30. For information on the attempted putsch, see Embtel 3838 (Saigon), Taylor
to Rusk, May 21, 1965, ibid. Colonel Thao, who again eluded capture, remained
at large until collared by security forces near Bienhoa on July 16. Wounded during arrest, Thao was taken to a Saigon hospital, where rivals in the South Vietnamese military murdered him. After the communists seized power in 1975, they transferred Thao's remains to a "patriots' cemetery" near Ho Chi Minh Cityformerly
Saigon. See Shaplen, Lost Revolution, 344; and Karnow, Vietnam, 38.
31. In addition to his political ambitions, Suu apparently harbored a desire for
personal enrichment as well. According to several South Vietnamese sources, Suu
and his wife directed an extensive smuggling operation, involving military planes
and trucks, through the Chief of State's office. See Embtel 3627 (Saigon), Taylor to
Rusk, May 3, 1965, "Vol. 34, Cables, 5/65," CNF, VN, Box 17, NSF, LBJL.
32. See Embtel 3884 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, May 25, 1965, ibid.
33. See Embtel 3875 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, May 25, 1965, ibid.
34. Suu later justified his about-face by asserting that Economic Minister Vinh
one of the five officials Quat sought to replacehad come to him late on the night
of May 25, threatening demonstrations by supporters if the Chief of State countersigned his dismissal. Suu thus stalled, he claimed, in order to avert civil unrest. In
fact, Suu pressured Vinhwho had initially agreed to resignto defy Quat. See
Embtel 3902 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, May 26, 1965; and Embtel 3931 (Saigon),
Taylor to Rusk, May 28, 1965, ibid.
35. Taylor quote is in Embtel 3645 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, May 4, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 3, Tabs 200-220, NSCH, Box 41, NSF, LBJL. For an analysis of
Quat's political dilemma, see State Department Bureau of Intelligence and Research,
"The Cabinet Crisis in South Vietnam," May 28, 1965, "Vol. 34, Memos (A), 5/65,"
CNF, VN, Box 17, NSF, LBJL.
36. See Embtel 4003 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, June 2, 1965, "Vol. 35, Cables (A),
6/1-21/65," CNF, VN, Box 18, NSF, LBJL.
37. See Embtel 4049 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, June 4, 1965, ibid.
38. See Embtel 4056 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, June 4, 1965, "Memos to the
President, v. 11, June 1965," ADF, MB, Box 3, NSF, LBJL.
39. Suu quote is in CIA Situation Report for June 3-9, 1965, "Vol. 35, Memos
(B), 6/1-15/65," CNF, VN, Box 18, NSF, LBJL.
40. Taylor quote is in Embtel 4074 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, June 5, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 4, Tabs 258-280, NSCH, Box 41, NSF, LBJL.
256
41. See "Nguyen Van Thieu," CIA, Office of Central Reference, Biographic Register, Jan. 29, 1965, "Trip, McGeorge Bundy-Saigon, Vol. 4, 2/4/65," IMATF, Box
28/29, NSF, LBJL; and "Nguyen Van Thieu," CIA, Office of Central Reference,
Biographic Register, June 24, 1965, "Biographical," ADF, MB, Box 17, NSF, LBJL.
42. Johnson, Right Hand, 437; Taylor, Swords, 345.
43. See "Nguyen Cao Ky," CIA, Office of Central Reference, Biographic Register,
Jan. 29, 1965, "Trip, McGeorge Bundy-Saigon, Vol. 4, 2/4/65," IMATF, Box
28/29, NSF, LBJL.
44. Ky interview with Brian Moynahan, published in [London] Sunday Mirror,
July 4, 1965, p. 9.
45. Diem, In the Jaws of History, 149; Taylor, Swords, 345; and transcript, William Bundy OHI, May 29, 1969, by Paige E. Mulhollan, tape 2, p. 30, LBJL.
46. See JCSM 321-65, April 30, 1965, quoted in Pentagon Papers, v. 3, p. 458.
47. See MACV 15182, May 8, 1965, cited in ibid., pp. 411-12; 459-460.
48. Quoted in Newsweek, May 10, 1965, p. 49.
49. See Embtel 4035 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, June 3, 1965, "Vol. 2 (A), 3/659/65," CNF, VN, Box 45/46, NSF, LBJL.
50. Embtel 4074 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, June 5, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 4,
Tabs 258-280, NSCH, Box 41, NSF, LBJL.
51. For notes of this June 5 meeting, see, primarily, MB-MSS, LBJL, and WB,
MS-VN, ch. 26, pp. 3-6.
8. "Can You Stop It?"
1. MACV 19118, Westmoreland to Sharp and Wheeler, June 7, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 4, Tabs 258-280, NSCH, Box 41, NSF, LBJL. In addition to his recommended U.S. deployments, Westmoreland also urged committing ten South Korean
battalions to Vietnam. Together, this would bring Allied forces to forty-two
battalions.
2. The participants at this session included McNamara, Wheeler, and Vance from
the Pentagon; Rusk and Ball from State; Ambassador Taylor, just in from Saigon;
and McGeorge Bundy.
3. For a record of this June 8 meeting, see MB-MSS, LBJL.
4. MACV statement, April 9, 1965, in Joseph A. Califano, Jr., to McGeorge
Bundy, June 9, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 4, Tabs 258-280, NSCH, Box 41, NSF,
LBJL; State Department announcement, June 5, 1965, quoted in Deptel 2810, Rusk
to Taylor, June 5, 1965, ibid. In a confidential cable to Saigon later that day, Rusk
had nevertheless reiterated that "COMUSMACV has the authority to authorize
[the] commitment [of] US ground forces to action in combat support on the basis
of operational coordination and cooperation with RVNAF." See Deptel 2812, Rusk
to Taylor, June 5, 1965, ibid.
5. Excerpted in Halberstam, Best, 586.
6. White House statement, June 9, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 4, Tabs 258-280,
NSCH, Box 41, NSF, LBJL; and Westmoreland, Soldier, 174.
7. "Ground War in Asia," NYT, June 9, 1965, p. 46.
8. Jacob Javits before the Senate, June 9, 1965, in CR, v. I l l , pt. 10, p. 12983.
9. Quoted in Goldman, Tragedy, 410; and James Deakin, Lyndon Johnson's
Credibility Gap (Washington: Public Affairs Press, 1968), 60.
257
10. Mansfield to Johnson, June 5 and 9, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 6, Tabs 341356, NSCH, Box 43, NSF, LBJL.
11. Those attending included McNamara and Vance from Defense; Rusk, Ball,
and William Bundy from State; Ambassador Taylor; CIA Director Raborn; McGeorge Bundy, Bill Moyers, and George Reedy of the White House staff; and
Senate Armed Services Committee Chairman Richard Russell, who joined the
gathering late.
12. For notes of this June 10 meeting, see especially MB-MSS, LBJL, and WB,
MS-VN, ch. 26, pp. 7-15.
13. Those present included McNamara, McNaughton, and Wheeler from the
Pentagon; Rusk, Ball, and William Bundy from State; Ambassadors Taylor and
Stevenson; CIA Director Raborn; Treasury Secretary Henry Fowler; Acting Attorney General Nicholas Katzenbach; AID Administrator Bell; USIA Director
Rowan; Office of Emergency Planning (OEP) Director Buford Ellington; and
McGeorge Bundy, Horace Busby, Douglass Cater, George Reedy, Bromley Smith,
and Marvin Watson of the White House staff.
14. See Bromley Smith's "Summary Notes of 552nd NSC Meeting," June 11,
1965, "Vol. 3, Tab 34, 6/11/65, Vietnam," NSCMF, Box 1, NSF, LBJL.
15. Quotes are in Henry F. Graff, "How Johnson Makes Foreign Policy," New
York Times Magazine, July 4, 1965, pp. 18-20; and Graff, Tuesday Cabinet, 53-55.
16. MACV 20055, Westmoreland to Sharp and Wheeler, June 13, 1965, reprinted
in Pentagon Papers, v. 4, pp. 606-609.
17. See A. J. Goodpaster's Memorandum of Meeting with General Eisenhower,
June 16, 1965, "President Eisenhower," NF, Box 3, NSF, LBJL. Johnson read
Goodpaster's report that evening.
18. See confidential Louis Harris surveys in Hayes Redmon to Johnson, June 17,
1965, "ND 19/CO 312 VIETNAM (Situation in 1964-1965)," CFF, Box 71, WHCF,
LBJL; and "PR 16 Public Opinion Polls (April 1964-June 1965)," CFF, Box 80, ibid.
19. Johnson's assertion contrasted vividly with an NSC analysis of the Tonkin
Gulf Resolution which he had read the week before. It had noted, in part, that the
Tonkin Gulf Resolution "was passed on the understanding that there would be
consultation with the Congress 'in case a major change in present policy becomes
necessary.' " See James C. Thomson, Jr., and McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, June
11, 1965, "Vol. 4," CNF, VN, Box 54, NSF, LBJL.
20. President's News Cont'erence, June 17, 1965, Public Papers: Lyndon B. Johnson, 1965, Book II, pp. 669-685.
21. Ball suggests a much greater contrast between McNamara's June 10 recommendation and these June 18 proposals in his memoirs. "Secretary McNamara," he
writes, had "proposed a total deployment of 395,000 personnel in South Vietnam by
the end of the year," adding "I sought vainly to forestall this escalation." Rather,
Ball had counseled only limiting the escalation at this point. See Ball, Past, 395.
22. Ball to Johnson, June 18, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 5, Tabs 314-325, NSCH,
Box 42, NSF, LBJL. Only Rusk received a copy of this memo.
23. See CIA Deputy Director for Intelligence Ray Cline to Jack Valenti, June 21,
1965, answering LBJ's June 19 request, in CIARR, reel 2, frames 467-468.
24. Quoted in Ball, Past, 396. Moyers relayed LBJ's comments to Ball that night.
25. The attendants at this session included Rusk, Ball, William Bundy, and
Thompson from State; McNamara, Vance, and McNaughton from the Pentagon;
258
CIA Director Raborn and Deputy Director for Operations Richard Helms; and
White House staffers Busby, Cater, and McGeorge Bundy.
26. For an account of this June 23 meeting, see WB, MS-VN, ch. 26, pp. 22-23.
27. See JCS 2400, Wheeler to Westmoreland, June 22, 1965, cited in Pentagon
Papers, v. 3, pp. 414, 471. McNamara's proposal also included one Australian and
nine South Korean battalions, for a combined total of forty-four.
28. MACV 3320, Westmoreland to Sharp and Wheeler, June 24, 1965, cited in
ibid., pp. 415, 471, and 481.
29. See McNamara draft memorandum, June 26, 1965 (revised July 1, 1965),
"Vol. 3, Tab 35, 7/27/65, Deployment of Additional U.S. Troops in Vietnam,"
NSCMF, Box 1, NSF, LBJL.
30. McGeorge Bundy to McNamara, June 30, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 6, Tabs
341-356, NSCH, Box 43, NSF, LBJL. Bundy had expressed similar, though far more
restrained, reservations to LBJ three days earlier. See McGeorge Bundy to Johnson,
June 27, 1965, "Memos to the President, v. 11, June 1965," ADF, MB, Box 3, NSF,
LBJL.
31. See WB, MS-VN, ch. 26, p. 25. Ball elaborated his case in two memorandums
to Rusk et al., June 28 and 29, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 6, Tabs 341-356, NSCH,
Box 43, NSF, LBJL.
32. See WB, MS-VN, ch. 26, p. 26; and William Bundy to Rusk et al., June 30,
1965, "Vol. 35, Memos (C), 6/16-30/65," CNF, VN, Box 18, NSF, LBJL.
33. McNamara to Johnson, July 1, 1965, "Vol. 3, Tab 35, 7/27/65, Deployment
of Additional U.S. Troops in Vietnam," NSCMF, Box 1, NSF, LBJL.
34. Ball to Johnson, July 1, 1965, "Vol. 37, Memos (C), 7/65," CNF, VN, Box 20,
NSF, LBJL. A partial copy of this memo, missing its first two pages and incorrectly
dated June 23, 1965, is in "Deployment," Vol. 5, Tabs 314-325, NSCH, Box 42,
NSF, LBJL.
35. William Bundy, "A 'Middle Way' Course of Action in South Vietnam," July
1, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 5, Tabs 314-325, NSCH, Box 42, NSF, LBJL.
36. Rusk to Johnson, July 1, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 6, Tabs 357-383, NSCH,
Box 43, NSF, LBJL.
37. McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, July 1, 1965, ibid.
38. See "Memorandum of Telephone Conversation: 10:55 A.M., July 2, 1965"
(by Lillian H. Brown, Eisenhower's confidential secretary), Eisenhower Post-Presidential Papers: Augusta Series, Box 10, Dwight D. Eisenhower Library.
39. For an account of this July 2 meeting, see WB, MS-VN, ch. 27, p. 13.
40. Embtel 41 (Saigon), Taylor to Rusk, July 5, 1965, "Memos to the President,
v. 12, July 1965," ADF, MB, Box 4, NSF, LBJL; and McGeorge Bundy to Johnson,
July 7, 1965, ibid.
41. Acheson to Truman, July 10, 1965, "Acheson Correspondence (1964-1971),"
Post Presidential Name File, Harry S Truman Library.
42. Transcript, George Ball OHI, July 9, 1971, by Paige E. Mulhollan, tape 2,
p. 8, LBJL.
43. For details of these July 8 deliberations, see William Bundy, "Vietnam Panel"
(drafted July 10, 1965), "Deployment," Vol. 7, Tabs 401-420, NSCH, Box 43, NSF,
LBJL; WB, MS-VN, ch. 27, pp. 15-21; and Walter Isaacson and Evan Thomas,
The Wise Men: Six Men and the World They Made (New York: Simon & Schuster,
1986), 650-652.
259
44. President's News Conference, July 9, 1965, Public Papers: Lyndon B. Johnson,
1965, Book II, pp. 725-730.
45. President's Press Conference, July 13, 1965, ibid., 735-744.
46. Remarks to the National Rural Electric Cooperative Association, July 14,
1965, ibid., 749-752.
47. Quotes are in USN&WR, July 26, 1965, p. 45.
48. James Cannon and Charles Roberts interview with Johnson, July 14, 1965,
reprinted in Newsweek, Aug. 2, 1965, pp. 20-21.
49. Quoted in Sidey, Very Personal Presidency, 234.
50. Those accompanying McNamara included Henry Cabot Lodge, recently designated successor to Ambassador Taylor; Generals Wheeler and Goodpaster; Assistant Defense Secretaries John McNaughton and Arthur Sylvester of Public Affairs;
Deputy Assistant Secretary of State Leonard Unger; and NSC staffer Chester Cooper.
51. See Pentagon Papers, v. 3, p. 482; and Westmoreland, Soldier, 183.
52. Account and quote is in Chester Cooper, The Lost Crusade: America in Vietnam (New York: Dodd, Mead, 1970), 281.
53. Diem, In the Jaws of History, 152.
54. For record of this July 17 meeting, see Memorandum of Conversation (by
Melvin L. Manfull), transmitted to Washington on July 27 as Embair A-66, "Deployment," Vol. 7, Tabs 421^38, NSCH, Box 43, NSF, LBJL. Manfull incorrectly
dates the conversation on July 16.
55. See Rusk to Raborn, July 15, 1965, "Vol. 37, Cables, 7/65," CNF, VN, Box
19, NSF, LBJL; and Deftel 172042Z, Vance to McNamara, July 17, 1965, Mandatory
Declassification Review Case 87-224, Office of the Secretary of Defense.
56. Quoted in William Manchester, The Glory and the Dream: A Narrative
History of America, 1932-1972 (Boston: Little, Brown, 1974; rep. ed., New York:
Bantam, 1975), 1053.
57. McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, July 19, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 6, Tabs
384-400, NSCH, Box 43, NSF, LBJL. '
58. Special National Intelligence Estimate (SNIE) 10-9-65: Communist and Free
World Reactions to a Possible US Course of Action, July 20, 1965, ibid.
59. McNamara to Johnson, July 20, 1965 (submitted July 21), "Vietnam 2EE,
1965-67," CNF, VN, Box 74/75, NSF, LBJL.
9. "Better'n Owl"
1. The participants at this July 21 morning session included ivi'cNamara, Vance,
McNaughton, and Wheeler from the Pentagon; Rusk, Ball, William Bundy, and
Unger from State; Raborn and Helms from the CIA; Ambassador-designate Lodge;
outgoing USIA Director Rowan and his successor, Leonard Marks; and McGeorge
Bundy, Cooper, Moyers, and Valenti of the White House staff.
2. One other person joined this afternoon sessionthe President's old friend and
counselor, Clark Clifford.
3. Quote is in WB, MS-VN, ch. 27, p. 31.
4. See Valenti notes, "July 21-27, 1965, Meetings on Vietnam," MNF, Box 1,
LBJL; Memorandum for the Record (by Chester Cooper), dated July 22, 1965,
"Deployment," Vol. 7, Tabs 401-420, NSCH, Box 43, NSF, ibid.; Jack Valenti,
260
A Very Human President (New York: W. W. Norton, 1975), 321-340; and Ball,
Past, 399-402.
5. McGeorge Bundy to Johnson, July 21, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 7, Tabs 401420, NSCH, Box 43, NSF, LBJL.
6. Personal interview with Horace Busby, Washington, B.C., May 20, 1987.
7. See MB-MSS, LBJL.
8. Johnson and his advisers remained keenly sensitive to the Truman-MacArthur
controversy and its political lessons. Several months earlier, Jack Valenti had counseled the President that "before you make final decisions on the problems in Viet
Narn, you 'sign on' the Joint Chiefs in that decision. . . . That way, they will have
been heard, they will have been part of the consensus, and our flank will have been
covered in the event of some kind of flap or investigation later." Valenti to Johnson,
Nov. 14, 1964, "ND 19/CO 312 Vietnam (Situation in 1964-1965)," CFF, Box 71,
WHCF, LBJL.
9. See Valenti notes, "July 21-27, 1965, Meetings on Vietnam," MNF, Box 1,
LBJL; MB-MSS, ibid.; and Valenti, Very Human President, 340-352.
10. Those attending included McNamara, Vance, and Wheeler from the Pentagon; Rusk and Ball from State; White House assistants Bundy, Busby, Cater, Moyers,
and Valenti; Presidential counsel Clifford; and Republicans Dean and McCloy.
11. General Wheeler shared McNamara's belief in the political importance of a
reserve call-up. The JCS wanted to mobilize reserves, he later recalled, "in order to
make sure that the people of the United States knew that we were in a war and not
engaged [in] some two-penny military adventure." Transcript, Earle Wheeler OHI,
Aug. 21, 1969, by Dorothy Pierce McSweeney, tape 1, p. 19, LBJL.
12. Quote is in Kearns, Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream, 270.
13. See Valenti notes, "July 21-27, 1965, Meetings on Vietnam," MNF, Box 1,
LBJL; and MB-MSS, ibid.
14. Transcript, George Ball OHI, July 9, 1971, by Paige E. Mulhollan, tape 2,
pp. 10-11, LBJL; and manuscript, Clark M. Clifford memoirs (New York: Random
House, forthcoming). See also Ball, Past, 402-403.
15. MB-MSS, LBJL; and manuscript, Clark M. Clifford memoirs.
16. See Ball's account of this meeting to State Department assistant secretaries,
in Benjamin Read Memorandum, July 23, 1965, "Vol. 37," CNF, VN, Box 20, NSF,
LBJL.
17. Quotes are in Ball, Past, 403; transcript, George Ball OHI, July 9, 1971, by
Paige E. Mulhollan, tape 2, p. 11, LBJL; and manuscript, Clark M. Clifford memoirs.
18. Valenti notes, "July 21-27, 1965, Meetings on Vietnam," MNF, Box 1, LBJL;
and manuscript, Clark M. Clifford memoirs. For the full text of Galbraith's letter,
see Galbraith to Johnson, July 22, 1965, "Vietnam (Situation in) 1964-65," CFF,
Box 71, WHCF, LBJL.
19. Quoted in Kearns, Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream, 282-283.
20. Transcript, William Bundy OHI, May 29, 1969, by Paige E. Mulhollan, tape
2, p. 44, LBJL.
21. State Department Circular 128, July 25, 1965, "Deployment," Vol. 7, Tabs
401-420, NSCH, Box 43, NSF, LBJL.
22. Participants at this session included Vice President Humphrey; McNamara
and Wheeler from the Pentagon; Rusk, Ball, Lodge, and Goldberg from State; Raborn and Helms representing the CIA; White House staffers McGeorge Bundy,
Busby, Moyers, and Valenti; and Clark Clifford.
261
23. Valenti notes, "July 21-27, 1965, Meetings on Vietnam," MNF, Box 1, LBJL;
and manuscript, Clark M. Clifford memoirs.
24. See Valenti notes, "July 21-27, 1965, Meetings on Vietnam," MNF, Box 1,
LBJL; McGeorge Bundy memorandum, prepared Nov. 1968, ibid.; and Lyndon
Johnson, Vantage Point, 149.
25. Several administration officials also joined this session: Rusk, McNamara,
Wheeler, Lodge, and Raborn, together with White House staffers Bundy, Busby,
Califano, Cater, Goodwin, Moyers, O'Brien, and Valenti.
26. A letter from Mansfield to the President earlier on July 27 supports this conclusion. After meeting with Aiken, Cooper, Fulbright, Russell, and Sparkman at
3:30 that afternoon, Mansfield had informed Johnson "there was full agreement that
insofar as Viet Nam is concerned we are deeply enmeshed in a place where we
ought not to be; that the situation is rapidly going out of control; and that every
effort should be made to extricate ourselves." Mansfield to Johnson, July 27, 1965,
"Deployment," Vol. 1, Tabs 42-60, NSCH, Box 40, NSF, LBJL.
27. See Valenti notes, "July 21-27, 1965, Meetings on Vietnam," MNF, Box 1,
LBJL; McGeorge Bundy memorandum, prepared Dec. 1968, ibid.; Lyndon Johnson,
Vantage Point, 150-151; Time, Aug. 6, 1965, pp. 19-20; Evans and Novak, Lyndon
B. Johnson, 551; and Alfred Steinberg, Sam Johnson's Boy: A Close-up of the
President from Texas (New York: Macmillan, 1968), 780.
28. President's News Conference, July 28, 1965, Public Papers: Lyndon B. Johnson, Book II, pp. 794-803.
29. Quotes are in Newsweek, Feb. 8, 1965, p. 37; U. Alexis Johnson, Right Hand,
420; transcript, William Bundy OHI, May 29, 1969, by Paige E. Mulhollan, tape 2,
p. 1, LBJL; and Kearns, Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream, 252.
30. Quote is in Edward Weintal and Charles Bartlett, Facing the Brink: An Intimate Study of Crisis Diplomacy (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1967), 137.
31. Quotes are in Kearns, Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream, 251-252;
and Lippmann, "Today and Tomorrow," WP, July 8, 1965, p. A21.
32. Adlai Stevenson, March 14, 1965, quoted in Geyelin, Lyndon B. Johnson and
the World, 232.
33. Quoted in Sidey, Very Personal, 223.
34. Quoted in Halberstam, Best, 424.
35. Quotes are in Kalb and Abel, Roots of Involvement, 180; transcript, Hugh
Sidey OHI, July 22, 1971, by Paige Mulhollan, tape 1, p. 12, LBJL; and transcript,
William Bundy OHI, May 29, 1969, by Paige Mulhollan, tape 2, p. 31, ibid.
Conclusion
1. Rusk, quoted in Graff, Tuesday Cabinet, 40.
2. See Memorandum of Background Session with Robert McNamara, April 22,
1965, Notebook 3, Box 1, Arthur Krock Papers, SGMML, PU.
3. Transcript, U. Alexis Johnson OHI, June 14, 1969, by Paige E. Mulhollan,
p. 27, LBJL.
4. For Taylor quote, see "Alert in Vietnam," Life, Nov. 27, 1964, p. 46.
5. See George Kennan testimony before Senate Foreign Relations Committee,
Feb. 10, 1966, reprinted in Vietnam Hearings, 163.
6. Henry Kissinger, White House Years (Boston: Little, Brown, 1979), 54.
262
Index
263
264
Index
Cambodia (cont.)
and Geneva Accords, 5; and Vietcong
monsoon offensive, 150
Camp David, 118, 166, 204, 206, 207
Camp Holloway, 62
Cang, Chung Tan, 45
Cannon, James, 178
Cao Dai, 14
Caravelle Manifesto, 79
Catledge, Turner, 30
Central Intelligence Agency (CIA): assessment of Khanh, 15; and communist response to MAYFLOWER, 138; estimates
reaction to U.S. buildup, 181-82, 186; and
FIAB, 144; urges pause prior to heavier
bombing, 135, 140
Chanhhoa, 70
.Chaple, 70
Chau, Thich Tarn, 43, 56-57, 145
China: atomic capability, 24-25; intervention, policymakers' fear of, 25, 33, 72,
107-8, 128, 140, 194-95, 197, 200; perceived expansionism of, 24-25, 58, 101,
121-22, 215
Chulai, 126
Church, Frank, 119, 209
Civil-rights movement: impact on Vietnam
policy, xv; and Selma crisis, 60, 96-97,
100. See also Great Society
Clausewitz, Carl von, vii, 221
Clifford, Clark M.: background and experience, 143-44; confers with Ball, 202-4;
and July 1965 troop debate, 192, 199,
202-3, 207; and showdown at Camp David, 204-5; warns LBJ of quagmire, 144
Congressional leadership: LBJ underplays
Vietnam decisions with, 55, 200, 208-11;
and MAYFLOWER, 140; opposition to
escalation, 208 n. 26
Constituent Assembly, 56
Containment doctrine: as impetus to U.S.
involvement, 87, 89, 212, 219-20; and
Lippmann critique, 220; origins of, xiiixiv, 4, 219; and U.S. credibility, 104, 171,
175, 189, 206, 220
Cooper, Chester, 179
Cooper, John Sherman, 208, 208 n. 26
Cowles, John, 173-76
"Credibility Gap," 156, 214, 217
Cuban Missile Crisis, 48, 108, 114-15
Dai Viet party, 79
Danang, 102, 106, 113, 126, 155-56; Greene
comment, following tour of, 151; Marine
landing at, 94, 98; Westmoreland requests
troops for airfield at, 92-93
Dean, Arthur, 174-76, 201
de Gaulle, Charles, 118
Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), 64, 72, 91, 97
Denver Post, 48
DESOTO, 52
Diem, Bui, 79, 149
Diem, Ngo Dinh: coup against, 15, 26, 210;
and Ky, 149; LBJ visit with, 10; and
Quat, 79; rule of South Vietnam, 6-8, 14;
and Thao, 80; and Thieu, 148
Dienbienphu, 5, 78, 160
Dirksen, Everett M., 68-69, 177, 208, 210
Dominican intervention, 132-34
Domino theory, 5, 101, 166, 170, 196
Dong, Pham Van, 123-24, 137-38, 141-42
Donghoi, 64, 67, 71
Dongxoai, 163
Draper, Theodore, 115
Due, Duong Van, 20, 79
Dulles, John Foster, 174
Eisenhower, Dwight D., 55, 177; administration's commitment to South Vietnam,
5-7; counsels LBJ, 77-78, 139, 163, 172
Eisenhower, Milton, 121
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 164
Escalation: and lesson of Cuban Missile Crisis, 114-15; as remedy to South Vietnam's
disorder, xv-xvi, 34 n. 22, 35, 58-59, 66,
128, 218-19; unpredictability of, 88-89,
164-65, 218-19
Fair Deal, 162
Finney, John, 155
FLAMING DART, 64
Ford, Gerald R., 65, 68, 177, 208-9
Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board (FIAB),
144
Formosa Resolution (1955), 78
"Four Points" formula, 123-24, 137-38,
141-42
France, 9, 24, 109; colonial legacy of, 14;
and Indochina War, 4-6, 85-86, 165, 219;
and MAYFLOWER, 142
Fulbright, J. William, 110, 140-41, 161, 208,
208 n. 26
Galbraith, John Kenneth, 205
Gallup poll, 25, 120, 139, 198
Geneva Accords, 5-6, 107, 138, 148, 201
Gia Long Palace, 146-47
Gilpatric, Roswell, 174-75
Goldberg, Arthur, 204
"Goldilocks Principle," 31
Goldwater, Barry: and liberals, 119; and
1964 election, 3 n. 1, 18-19, 23, 73-75, 173
Goodpaster, Andrew, 139, 163
Goodwin, Richard, 120, 204
Graff, Henry F., 162-63
Great Britain, 4, 5 n. 5, 24, 109, 172
Great Society: and anti-poverty legislation,
174; and budgetary pressures, 47, 180-81,
192; and Elementary and Secondary Education Act, 106, 130; and housing bill,
Index
174; Humphrey stresses dangers to, 7375; LBJ's hopes for, xv, 54-55, 211-12;
and Medicare/Medicaid bill, 106, 173,
177, 184; and Voting Rights Act (1965),
96-97, 97 n. 9, 100, 106, 130, 173, 177, 184.
See also Civil-rights movement
Greece, 9, 196
Greene, Wallace M., 151, 192, 196
Gruening, Ernest, 69, 119, 209
Haiphong, 169, 201
Harkins, Paul, 16
Harriman, W. Averell, 172
Hickenlooper, Bourke, 208
High Clerical Council, 44
High National Council (HNC), 21, 44-45,
56, 79, 149
Hoa Hao, 14
Ho Chi Minh, 79, 179; after Geneva Accords, 6; JCS estimate of, 188, 197; LBJ's
estimate of, 114, 123, 162; leads nationalist revolt, 4
Ho Chi Minh Trail, 16, 62, 72
Hoffman, Paul, 174-75
Honolulu Conference, 125-27
Hop Tac, 103
Hosokawa letter, 48-49
Hoyt, E. Palmer "Ep," 48
Hue, 44, 56-57, 98, 148
Humphrey, Hubert H., 70, 73-75, 121
Huong, Tran Van, 21, 43, 56-57, 145, 147
Inaugural address (1965), 54-55
India, 166, 175, 196
Indonesia, 121
Institute for Execution of the Dharma, 43
Institute for Secular Affairs, 43
International Commission for Supervision
and Control (ICSC), 5, 108, 117
Japan, 17, 109; and domino theory, 175,
196; view of U.S. involvement in Vietnam, 170, 189
Javits, Jacob K., 156
Johns Hopkins speech, 120-24
Johnson, Harold K., 94-95, 97, 192, 195-97
Johnson, Lady Bird, 95, 107, 121, 152, 206,
211
Johnson, Lyndon B.: anxiety over South
Vietnam's disorder, 35-36, 83, 152, 212;
cloaks bombing decision, 39, 54, 76, 213;
compulsive secretiveness, 214; concern for
Great Society, 177-78, 180-81, 206, 21314, 216; and Dominican intervention,
132-34; failure of statesmanship, 219-20;
fear of right-wing backlash, 47, 60, 75,
96-97, 108, 136, 140, 162, 204, 206, 213-14,
216; and Hosokawa letter, 48-49; Johns
Hopkins speech of, 121-23, 154, 159; and
July 1965 troop debate, 185-210; and lib-
265
266
Index
Laos (cont.)
BARREL ROLL, 42; China's perceived
threat to, 121; communist infiltration
through, 62; and domino theory, 196; and
Geneva Accords, 5; and PLAN 34A, 16
Larson, Arthur, 174-75
Liberals, 75, 119-20
Liberation Radio, 138
Lippmann, Walter, 46-47, 118-19, 213, 220
Lodge, Henry Cabot, Jr., 17, 187, 191, 207,
209-10
Long, Russell, 208-9
Look, 174
Lovett, Robert A., 174-76
Luce, Henry, 174
McCarthyism, xiv-xv, 25, 67, 101, 216
McCloskey, Robert, 155
McCloy, John J., 175-76, 200-201
McCone, John, 39, 105, 108; background
and worldview, 110-11; urges heavier
bombing, 111 n. 33, 128, 135, 144
McConnell, John, 192, 194-95
McCormack, John, 208-9
McDonald, David, 192-94
McGovern, George, 119, 208
McNamara, Robert S.: abandons concept of
stability before escalation, 58-59; advises
candor to LBJ, 127, 159, 192, 199-200; favors sustained bombing, 75 n. 24, 219;
fears domestic repercussions of disengagement, 216; and July 1965 troop debate,
184-88, 190-91, 194-203, 207, 209; rebuts
Ball, 53, 90; recommends prolonging
MAYFLOWER, 139-41; relationship with
LBJ, 12; reports on Honolulu Conference, 127; reports on Saigon trip, 182-83;
and showdown at Camp David, 204, 206;
trip to Saigon, 178-80; urges expanded
military effort, 167, 169, 182-83; and
Westmoreland thirty-two-battalion plan,
154, 158-61, 167
McNaughton, John T.: attends Tuesday
Lunch, 95-96; drafts bombing plan, 6162; exasperation with Khanh, 57-58; foresees massive troop deployments, 103; at
Honolulu Conference, 126-27; participates in Working Group, 27-28, 33-34
Malaysia, 58, 121, 196
Manac'h, Etienne, 141-43
Mansfield, Mike: counsels LBJ against escalation, 40-41, 64-65, 99, 104-5, 157-58;
and July 1965 troop debate, 208,208 n. 26,
210; and MAYFLOWER pause, 140-41;
relationship with LBJ, 39-40
Mao Tse-tung, 4, 24, 101, 122, 215
Marshall, George C., 11, 174
MAYFLOWER, 135-43, 159
Mekong River, 122-23
Military Assistance and Advisory Group
(MAAG), 7
Index
Phat, Lam Van, 20, 80-84, 144-45
Philippines, 109
Phubai, 98, 102, 106, US, 155
PLAN 34A, 16
Pleiku, 70, 118; and Vietcong attack, 62-63,
65-67; and U.S. air reprisals, 71, 76, 116
Public opinion: on bombing, 76, 120, 139;
on commitment to South Vietnam, 76; on
Dominican intervention, 133; on LBJ's
handling of war, 47, 76, 163; on negotiations, 120; on troop deployments, 163-64^
on wisdom of intervention, 47
Quai d'Orsay, 115, 141
Quang, Thich Tri, 43-44, 56-57
Quangngai, 127 n. 35, 150
Quat, Phan Huy: attempted coup against,
145; background and experience, 79-80;
resigns, 147, 157
Quinhon, 70, 124
Raborn, William F., 135, 141, 144, 160, 186
Radhakrishnan, Sarvepalli, 134-35
Reedy, George, 155-56
Resor, Stanley, 192, 198
Reston, James, 118
Roberts, Charles, 178
ROLLING THUNDER: begins, 91; limitations cited by policymakers, 97-98, 105,
126, 151, 167, 170. See also Bombing
Roosevelt, Franklin D., 178, 206; courtpacking plan, 30-31; foreign-policy leadership, 9; Good Neighbor policy, 134;
"Hundred Days," 107, 184. See also New
Deal
Rostow, Walt W., 7
Rowan, Carl, 187
Rowland, Robert, 81-82
Rusk, Dean: analyzes South Vietnam's disorder, 55, 84, 212; exhorts LBJ to maintain course, 83-84, 171; and July 1965
troop debate, 184, 187, 191, 199-203; lectures Thant, 117; on negotiations, 159,
161; recites U.S. objectives in Vietnam,
107; relationship with LBJ, 10-11; worldview, 11, 171
Russell, Richard, 32-33, 158, 160, 208, 208
n. 26
Russia: co-chairs Geneva Conference, 5 n. 5;
Cold War rivalry with U.S., 4, 7; danger
of wider war with, 103, 108, 118, 194, 197;
and Khrushchev ouster, 24; support for
North Vietnam, 62, 181, 200, 207-8. See
also Soviet Union
Seaborn, J. Blair, 117
Sharp, U.S. Grant, 102, 124, 126-27
Sino-Soviet split, 7, 24, 182
Smathers, George, 208-9
Songbe, 150
Southeast Asia Treaty Organization
267
268
Index