For the Common Defense

by Allan R. Millett, Peter Maslowski

  Antiwar sentiment even crept into the administration. Foremost among those who questioned the war was Robert McNamara, the first of three secretaries of defense who began as hawks and morphed into doves. Although maintaining a prowar façade, he privately expressed doubts, warning the president that there might be “a limit beyond which many Americans and much of the world will not permit the United States to go. The picture of the world’s greatest superpower killing or seriously injuring 1,000 noncombatants a week, while trying to pound a tiny backward nation into submission on an issue whose merits are hotly disputed, is not a pretty one.”

  In the fall of 1967 the administration launched a “Success Offensive” to shore up public opinion. Johnson ordered the embassy in Saigon and military leaders to “search urgently for occasions to present sound evidence of progress in Viet Nam.” They dutifully responded with a barrage of optimistic data. The “Wise Men” and Westmoreland played prominent roles. An informal, bipartisan group of senior advisers, the Wise Men included such notables as former Secretary of State Dean Acheson, U.S. Ambassador Arthur Goldberg, former ambassadors Henry Cabot Lodge and Douglas Dillon, and retired generals Omar Bradley and Matthew B. Ridgway. After receiving carefully screened briefings, which were not altogether accurate, they concluded the war was going well. Westmoreland returned to the U.S. and expressed exuberant optimism in several highly publicized appearances. The hemorrhaging eased. In July 1967, 10 percent of the population thought the U.S. was losing, 34 percent believed it was winning, and 46 percent considered the war a stalemate (10 percent had no opinion). When 1967 ended the figures were 8 percent, 51 percent, and 33 percent (8 percent still had no opinion). However, in return for increased support, the administration promised a victory soon.

  The War Reaches a Climax

  Unknown to those conducting the Success Offensive, Hanoi decided to launch an enormous campaign consisting of a deception phase followed by what enemy strategists called a “General Offensive–General Uprising.” Because the General Offensive–General Uprising occurred during Tet, the Vietnamese Lunar New Year and Vietnam’s most popular holiday, the media and policymakers in the U.S. referred to it as the Tet Offensive.

  Designed to lure U.S. troops out of populated areas, the deception phase began in the fall of 1967 with a series of assaults in isolated border areas, which culminated in the siege of the Marines’ Khe Sanh combat base near the Laotian border. As two NVA divisions closed in on the base, Westmoreland and President Johnson became fixated on superficial analogies between Khe Sanh and Dien Bien Phu and became determined to avoid France’s fate. When the siege’s final stage began on January 20, 1968, with a barrage of artillery and rocket fire, it triggered Operation NIAGARA, an aerial campaign in which bombs fell continuously, like water cascading over Niagara Falls. Before the siege ended on March 30, more than 24,000 fighter-bomber and 2,700 B-52 sorties had pulverized the NVA positions. Although MACV estimated that NVA losses were at least 10,000, primarily from the B-52 Arc Light strikes, the official body count was only 1,602. Officially, the Marines had 205 KIA and more than 1,600 WIA. ARVN rangers held Khe Sanh’s southwest perimeter and suffered heavy casualties, but the exact number is unknown. In addition, between 1,000 and 1,500 Montagnards died in the fighting.

  With U.S. attention riveted on the sanguinary border battles, the VC/NVA took up positions for their General Offensive—General Uprising, which began on January 30–31, 1968, and, for the first time in the war, targeted urban areas. Catching U.S. and ARVN forces by surprise, the initial attacks struck twenty-seven of forty-four provincial capitals, five of six autonomous cities, fifty-eight of 245 district towns, and more than fifty hamlets. Westmoreland was so preoccupied with Khe Sanh that he thought these attacks were a diversion and that the main assault was still coming against the combat base. And MACV’s intelligence chief acknowledged that even had he known exactly what the NVA/VC were going to do, “It was so preposterous that I probably would have been unable to sell it to anybody. Why would the enemy give away its major advantage, which was its ability to be elusive and avoid heavy casualties?”

  Why indeed? The offensive resulted from a strategic debate as to whether thoi co (the opportune moment) had arrived, when a shift from political to military dau tranh and from guerrilla to conventional warfare might alter the strategic balance. Those favoring aggressive action prevailed, and pre-Tet propaganda proclaimed a “new era, a real revolutionary period, and an offensive uprising period” in which success was certain. As with Johnson’s Success Offensive, the Communists were promising victory, which would come not against the Americans but against the South Vietnamese, who were the Tet Offensive’s foremost targets. Realizing they could not knock out the powerful Americans, enemy forces planned to attack only symbolic U.S. targets, such as its Embassy. On the other hand, enemy strategists hoped to crush ARVN in a General Offensive and overthrow the South’s government by inciting an urban-based General Uprising. The primary reason for the deception battles was to lure U.S. troops out of the cities, leaving South Vietnamese forces, officials, and their clients isolated and vulnerable.

  Communist leaders saw a range of possible outcomes. The worst was that the U.S., with its “limited war” strategy in tatters, would escalate again as it had done in 1965, pouring more troops into Southeast Asia and perhaps invading Laos, Cambodia, or even North Vietnam. The best outcome was an overwhelming victory, one that collapsed South Vietnam and undermined America’s “aggressive will.” Between the extremes was a third possibility. Although the VC/NVA won important victories, “the enemy might still have many forces supported by big bases and would continue to fight.” Nothing in the Communists’ planning anticipated that the offensive’s most important effect might be on the American home front, both among government officials and the public at large.

  The result did not precisely accord with any of Hanoi’s expectations. Despite being surprised, U.S. forces reacted with incredible mobility and firepower. In some places ARVN and the Territorial Forces fought tenaciously, and the General Offensive was quickly crushed except in Saigon and Hue, where fighting raged for weeks. Tet ended when the last enemy units were driven out of Hue in late February, leaving behind a ruined city and several mass graves filled with civilian victims of Communist massacres. As for a General Uprising, although the Communists extended their control in rural areas and temporarily crippled pacification efforts, they misjudged the urban population’s revolutionary temper. No urban revolts occurred. Exactly how many casualties the VC/NVA suffered is unknown, but experts estimated more than 30,000 dead or captured, with thousands more wounded. In addition, many VC operatives came out into the open for the first time, which made them vulnerable to retribution. Hanoi admitted it “had somewhat underestimated the capabilities and reactions” of U.S. and South Vietnamese troops and had set its goals too high.

  From a tactical military perspective, Tet was a victory for the Americans and South Vietnamese. But war is more than tactics. Despite the “victory,” the U.S. had suffered a strategic defeat, much in the same way Sioux victories at the Rosebud and Little Bighorn, or Japan’s success at Pearl Harbor, presaged strategic defeat. Juxtaposed against the Success Offensive, Tet had a cataclysmic political and psychological effect in the U.S., vitiating the illusion of progress and convincing many political elites that the war could not be won at an acceptable cost.

  Tet impelled the administration to reexamine the war. A potent prelude to the reassessment was the gloomy perspective of Chief of Staff Harold K. Johnson, who told the president the JCS believed “we have taken several hard knocks. The situation can get worse.” Although publicly claiming victory on the basis of a huge (inflated) body count and the enemy’s inability to hold a single city, Westmoreland privately questioned whether the South Vietnamese could survive another onslaught. After initially telling the president he would merely welcome reinforcements, he soon acknowledged that “we face a determined, highly disciplined enemy, fully mobilized to achiev
e a quick victory.” He needed more troops. Dismayed by this pessimism, the president dispatched Chairman Wheeler to Saigon for a first-hand investigation, which did nothing to restore optimism. Tet “was a near run thing,” he reported, and similar offensives were in the offing because the VC/NVA, despite heavy losses, had “the will and the capability to continue.” Wheeler feared further reverses unless the government met Westmoreland’s plea for reinforcements: 206,756 men, which would raise the number of troops in South Vietnam to 731,756. Sending them entailed further Americanizing the war, mobilizing 280,000 Reserves, and potentially ruinous expenditures.

  Wheeler may not have believed the situation was as dire as he reported because he was, at least partially, using Westmoreland’s reinforcement request as a ploy to rebuild the strategic reserve. But President Johnson did not know about the chairman’s machinations, and Wheeler’s message stunned him, especially since CIA estimates reinforced it. In this crisis atmosphere Johnson asked his new Secretary of Defense, Clark Clifford, to undertake a complete reassessment, undoubtedly expecting hawkish advice. One reason the president appointed Clifford to replace the dovish McNamara was that he was adamantly prowar. It took Clifford little time, however, to join the doves. After receiving a series of briefings the secretary concluded U.S. policy had failed “because it was based on false premises and false promises.” No quick solution was imminent; more troops, guns, planes, and ships would simply increase VC/NVA casualties and cause “significantly higher” U.S. deaths, which were already exceeding the Pacific Theater’s monthly KIA rate during World War II. Nor could Johnson ignore economic problems. The 206,756 reinforcements would cost $2.5 billion in 1968 and $10 billion the next year—huge expenditures, considering the faltering economy. Topping it off, an international gold crisis portended a global depression.

  As the administration pondered Westmoreland’s request and Clifford’s reassessment, the New York Times revealed the purported dire need for reinforcements. The official optimism about a magnificent victory during Tet now seemed as fraudulent as the Success Offensive. Why did Westmoreland need additional forces if he had just slaughtered the VC/NVA? Perhaps seeking advice that accorded with his own instinct to fight on, Johnson assembled the Wise Men, who supported the war during the Success Offensive. One briefing they received confirmed the military’s less than realistic grasp of the situation. When General DePuy claimed the enemy had lost 80,000 dead during Tet, one of the Wise Men, U.N. Ambassador Arthur Goldberg, asked what enemy troop strength was when the offensive began. No more than 240,000. What, Goldberg continued, was the ratio between killed and wounded? About three to one. If these calculations were correct, Communist casualties were 80,000 more than their estimated strength! With no effective enemy forces left, Goldberg wondered, why were reinforcements necessary? After all their briefings the Wise Men concluded the U.S. could “no longer do the job we set out to do in the time we have left, and we must begin to take steps to disengage.”

  A dismayed president addressed the nation on March 31. Taking the first steps toward de-escalation and de-Americanization of the war, Johnson announced he was curtailing the bombing over most of North Vietnam and was sending only 13,500 more men, thus capping America’s commitment and confirming the Communists’ hopes that the U.S. would de-escalate if its “limited war” strategy failed. With the U.S. doing less, the president insisted the South Vietnamese must do more, and the war’s burden now began shifting to South Vietnam in a process later called “Vietnamization.” Donning the peacemaker’s mantle, Johnson offered to open negotiations, although nothing in the speech indicated he had forsaken the goal of a non-Communist South Vietnam. In a dramatic few moments at the end of the speech, Johnson also announced that he would not run for reelection. Shifting to gradual de-escalation and Vietnamization were ways to buy time for the South to become stronger and, perhaps, survive. Hanoi’s strategists had been correct: The decisive moment had arrived in early 1968. The U.S. either had to escalate dramatically or begin to disengage, and now Johnson edged toward disengagement.

  Tet was only the first in a series of coordinated attacks during the spring and summer. A little more than a month after Johnson’s speech, the enemy launched a second offensive, called “mini Tet.” Although lacking Tet’s intensity, the two weeks between May 5 and May 18 were the war’s most costly for the U.S., with 1,168 KIA and 2,479 so badly wounded they required hospitalization (as opposed to 1,120 dead and 1,909 hospitalized during Tet’s two worst weeks). In August the NVA/VC conducted a third offensive—“mini-mini Tet.” But the U.S. had conducted a number of preemptive actions, and this offensive was only a pale replica of the earlier two. Still, 308 more U.S. soldiers died.

  The Tet Offensive was not a precise turning point because the war remained mired in a stalemate. However, though it had not collapsed, America’s “aggressive will” wavered. Reinforced by the two succeeding offensives, Tet represented a turning curve that started the United States down the road to withdrawal and defeat.

  Vietnamization

  By the time the VC/NVA launched another nationwide offensive in February 1969, they had moved toward a new strategic approach, the U.S. had a new president, and MACV had a new commander. The offensive lasted six weeks, demonstrating that despite horrific losses the previous year the enemy had not disintegrated. Although the VC/NVA sent another 1,740 Americans home in caskets, they suffered severely themselves. By mid-1969 morale among the surviving VC/NVA was plummeting. Between 1969 and 1971 captured documents revealed defeatism, desertions, self-inflicted wounds (even suicides), grave supply shortages, and insufficient recruiting. PAVN’s official history admitted: “Some of our cadre and soldiers became pessimistic and exhibited fear of close combat and of remaining in the battle zones.” But as a senior U.S. commander remarked, although the enemy “has really taken a lot of punishment,” the VC/NVA were tough, and they were “used to a hell of a problem. He lives in an environment where he’s got a hell of a problem. . . . He’s a pretty determined chap, when you get right down to it.”

  Whether as a result of heavy losses in four consecutive offensives, declining morale, or a matter of strategic choice (or a combination of all three), the enemy adopted a new approach. COSVN Resolutions 9 and 14, both issued in July 1969, unveiled a protracted war strategy, one in which the VC/NVA would wait for American strength to ebb before trying another major strike. Victory, the Communists now realized, would not come suddenly through a Tet-like offensive, “but in a complicated and tortuous way.” Many large units pulled back to base areas in Cambodia and Laos, while those that stayed in the South broke into smaller units and employed sapper (commando) tactics and indirect attacks with mortars and rockets to conserve strength while still inflicting casualties on U.S. forces. As combat intensity declined, political dau tranh received heightened emphasis and the enemy attention shifted from urban to rural areas, where the goal was to disrupt a revived pacification effort. Propaganda activities increased and terrorist incidents such as assassinations and abductions rocketed from 7,566 in 1967 to 12,056 in 1970. While this strategic shift was underway, another change occurred: VC casualties were so heavy during 1968 that NVA soldiers began replacing southerners in PLAF units while the VC rebuilt its strength, a task that achieved considerable success by 1972.

  The new president was Republican Richard Nixon, who hinted during the 1968 election campaign that he had a plan to end the war quickly. One option was simply to withdraw, blame the war on the Democrats, and extol Republican virtues for extricating America from the mess, even if on less than favorable terms. But, priding himself on toughness and vowing that he would not be the first president to lose a war, Nixon determined to preserve a non-Communist South Vietnam and achieve “peace with honor.” However, his administration had no plan; it overestimated U.S. capabilities, underestimated enemy resolve, and had limited options because of burgeoning antiwar sentiment and the South Vietnamese government’s failure to gain widespread support.

  Soo
n after the administration assumed office, Henry Kissinger, who was Nixon’s special assistant for national security affairs, issued NSSM #1, which ordered a survey of the relevant government agencies to provide a “snapshot” of the situation. Although all the agencies thought South Vietnam’s situation was improving, they questioned whether it could survive even a peaceful competition with the NLF, and all agreed that the South’s armed forces could not defeat the NVA/VC in the foreseeable future. The enemy could endure the current rate of attrition almost indefinitely and believed it could persist long enough to obtain a favorable negotiated settlement. Beyond these areas of agreement, MACV, CINCPAC, the JCS, and the Saigon embassy were relatively optimistic about South Vietnam’s prospects. But false data underlay much of the optimism since MACV suppressed negative analyses from the field. On the other hand, the office of the secretary of defense, the CIA, and elements within the State Department were more pessimistic, believing recent pacification improvements were illusory and that enemy forces were far more numerous than the optimists thought. So far during the war, optimists had been consistently wrong.

  With nothing resembling a government-wide consensus on exactly how to proceed, the president envisioned winning the war by isolating the North diplomatically and intimidating Communist leaders with military action. In what was called “linkage,” Nixon promised the Soviets arms limitation talks, economic cooperation, and other benefits if they exerted pressure on North Vietnam to accept an “honorable” settlement. Kissinger explained to the Soviets that the U.S. could not accept the South’s imminent demise or “a settlement that looked like a military defeat,” but that the U.S. “had no objection to gradual evolution.” That is, the U.S. considered the South’s immediate defeat intolerable but did not object to a “decent interval” between the withdrawal of American troops and South Vietnam’s collapse. Moscow, however, was never able to translate its considerable aid to North Vietnam into political influence. Nixon also tried to establish linkage through China, but the Chinese had no desire to help the Americans and exerted no more influence over the North than did the Soviets. Nonetheless, these overtures initiated a reorientation in foreign policy as the U.S. sought a détente with both Communist powers, culminating in presidential visits to Moscow and Beijing in 1972.