by Lewis Sorley
CIA in particular resisted the idea of taking whole categories out of the order of battle, arguing that doing so "could give consumers a misleading impression that the enemy forces had been reduced." Wrote George Allen, "This fundamental controversy posed an extraordinary dilemma for the intelligence community, whose embarrassment was compounded when word of the dispute was leaked to the press. This development confounded top levels of the administration, then fully engaged in the campaign to demonstrate progress in the war and thereby eliminate Vietnam as a divisive issue in the coming presidential election."18
Westmoreland sought to blame a single CIA analyst, Sam Adams, for the new numbers. But that charge was both inaccurate and unfair. "In 1967–1968," wrote veteran senior Agency official Hal Ford in a detailed scholarly analysis, "available evidence convinced virtually all CIA officers that the enemy had additional tens of thousands of irregular troops that were militarily significant, but which MACV would not count. CIA's concerns on these scores were validated when the enemy employed such irregulars in great numbers in his 1968 Tet Offensive, and despite very heavy casualties was able simultaneously to conduct major operations at Khe Sanh, Hue, and elsewhere."19
AT A CRUCIAL JUNCTURE in this unfolding drama, Brigadier General Phillip B. Davidson Jr. arrived in Saigon to replace Major General McChristian as MACV J-2. Davidson moved quickly to take personal control of the relevant order of battle figures, stating in a 15 August 1967 memorandum to his staff that they have got to "attrite main forces, local forces, and particularly guerrillas. We must cease immediately using the assumption that these units replace themselves. We should go on the assumption that they do not, unless we have firm evidence to the contrary. The figure of combat strength, and particularly of guerrillas, must take a steady and significant downward trend, as I am convinced this reflects true enemy status." And, he added, "due to the sensitivity of this project, weekly strength figures will hereafter be cleared personally by me."20 Those instructions were a sure sign of trouble ahead.
Later General McChristian remembered that fateful development. "DePuy and Chaisson asked me to change the reporting to indicate that we had reached the crossover point," he recalled. "We did not reach it. Phil Davidson came in after me and said that we had."21
Eventually CIA sent a senior officer, George Carver, out to Saigon to try to resolve the impasse on what enemy strength figures would be included in the SNIE. Carver soon cabled Director Richard Helms to report his mission as "frustratingly unproductive since MACV stone-walling obviously under orders," leading to the "inescapable conclusion that [MACV] has been given instruction tantamount to direct order that VC total strength will not exceed 300,000 ceiling. Rationale seems to be that any higher figure will not be sufficiently optimistic and would generate unacceptable level of criticism from the press."22
Helms later characterized Carver's mission to Saigon as a "vitally important" order of battle conference and the conflict he faced as "mean and nasty," but before it was over CIA had given in completely to Westmoreland's demands. Even though CIA's position, according to Helms, was a calculated enemy strength "of about 500,000—with some... analysts holding out for an even more substantial figure," after meeting one-on-one with Westmoreland Carver reported "circle now squared," which turned out to mean that CIA accepted the MACV numbers. Helms could accommodate that. Carver, he said later, "already knew my basic views: that because of broader considerations we had to come up with agreed figures, that we had to get this O/B question off the board, and that it didn't mean a damn what particular figures were agreed to."23
In his memoir, published posthumously, Helms acknowledged that there was "a significant political problem," one he attributed to the likelihood that, "in view of the continuing increase in U.S. personnel and armaments in South Vietnam, any admission that the Viet Cong were actually gaining strength would obviously have stirred a severe public reaction on the home front."24
Helms was sympathetic to the plight of MACV's intelligence officers dealing with the order of battle controversy. "In effect," he concluded, "the commanding general MACV had taken a 'Command Decision' as to the facts bearing on the O/B problem, and his subordinates had no choice but to fall in line."25
Later Hal Ford published a case study in which he concluded that "the most important regulator of the MACV O/B estimates was the fact that General Westmoreland and his immediate staff were under a strong obligation to keep demonstrating 'progress' against the Communist forces in Vietnam. After years of escalating US investments of lives, equipment, and money," said Ford, and "of monthly increases in MACV's tally of enemy casualties, and of vague but constant predictions of impending victory, it would be politically disastrous, they felt, suddenly to admit, even on the basis of new or better evidence, that the enemy's strength was in fact substantially greater than MACV's original or current estimates."26
GEORGE GODDING FROM MACV J-2 represented the headquarters at the Washington conference convened to develop the new SNIE. In mid-August 1967 General Davidson cabled him from Saigon to report that "the figure of about 420,000, which includes all forces including SD and SSD, has already surfaced out here. This figure has stunned the embassy and this headquarters and has resulted in a scream of protests and denials."27 The 420,000 represented the order of battle total that would have resulted from including the new figures for SD and SSD derived from the Ritz and Corral studies. Clearly any claims of having reached the crossover point were going to be cataclysmically undermined if the new estimates in those categories were to be accepted and those categories themselves continued to be part of the order of battle.
Thus Davidson put it to Godding pretty straight: "In view of this reaction, and in view of General Westmoreland's conversations, all of which you have heard, I am sure this headquarters will not accept a figure in excess of the current strength figure carried by the press."28 That figure was 292,000, a number that had recently appeared in the Wall Street Journal, and Godding was being given a ceiling he was not to let the new SNIE total exceed. Much later shilly-shallying would be devoted to denying that fact, but the language of Davidson's instructions to Godding was unambiguous.
Davidson took the precaution of protecting Westmoreland. "Let me make it clear," he added, "that this is my view of General Westmoreland's sentiments. I have not discussed this directly with him but I am 100 per cent sure of his reaction."29
Colonel Gains Hawkins was also part of the MACV delegation to the August 1967 SNIE conference at Langley. Later, under oath, he answered two crucial related questions. First, when he went to that conference, "Did you have any understanding as to whether at that time there was a MACV command position with respect to enemy strength estimates?" Hawkins: "Yes, sir, I did." And second, "What was that understanding?" Hawkins: "That there was a ceiling of 300,000 and we would not exceed that ceiling."30
Hawkins also addressed that central issue in a deposition: "I knew that when we went on that trip that there was a ceiling that we weren't going to get above and General Godding was perfectly aware that the ceiling was there, and he corroborated that when he called me at my home after the CBS documentary. That there was a ceiling that we had to stay under."31
Eventually, of course, Helms and the CIA conceded the argument to MACV, and SNIE 14.3–67, Capabilities of the Vietnamese Communists for Fighting in South Vietnam, was published in November 1967. It was apparent that MACV had prevailed, not only in the numbers and the categories included in the order of battle, but in the central conclusion: "Manpower is a major problem confronting the Communists. Losses have been increasing and recruitment in South Vietnam is becoming more difficult. Despite heavy infiltration from North Vietnam, the strength of the Communist military forces and political organizations in South Vietnam declined in the last year." The crossover point had been reached, or so it had now been decreed by the Intelligence Community.
EN ROUTE BACK TO Vietnam from his final Progress Offensive foray of the year, Westmoreland sent a cable to his deputy d
istilling the message he had been promulgating in various forums. His presentation, said Westmoreland, had been "compatible with the evolution of the war since our initial commitment and portrays to the American people 'some light at the end of the tunnel.'"32
17. Khe Sanh
IN MID-DECEMBER 1967 Westmoreland confided in his history notes: "My analysis is that the enemy's next major effort will be in I Corps, and I believe he will be prepared to initiate this by next January." In late January 1968 he cabled Washington: "I believe that the enemy will attempt a country-wide show of strength just prior to Tet, with Khe Sanh being the main event."1
To Westmoreland I Corps meant preeminently Khe Sanh, the remote and primitive base near South Vietnam's western border with Laos, a place of consuming interest to him. Later he wrote that "it was important to avoid trying to hold positions too close to the Laotian and Cambodian borders, for in view of the proximity of large enemy forces just across the border, that would have been inviting trouble."2 Yet Khe Sanh, and nearby Lang Vei, were exactly such places. Westmoreland told General Wheeler that Khe Sanh was important as a base for clandestine teams operating cross-border in Laos and to provide what he termed "flank security" for the strongpoint obstacle system, but that it was "even more critical from a psychological viewpoint. To relinquish this area would be a major propaganda victory for the enemy."3
Since mid-autumn Lyndon Johnson had had a sense of foreboding about Khe Sanh, fearing it could turn out to be an American version of the French defeat at Dien Bien Phu. He had a replica of the Khe Sanh plateau and the base situated there built and placed in the White House Situation Room, and reportedly demanded from each member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff a signed affirmation of his belief that the base could successfully be defended. The base was garrisoned primarily by the 26th Marines, a regimental-sized unit commanded by Colonel David Lownds, with other U.S. forces and a South Vietnamese Ranger group alongside. For weeks the position had been cut off by road, meaning all support had to be delivered by air drop or by aircraft landing there.
At MACV Westmoreland established a task force to monitor what was going on at Khe Sanh, then directed that someone from the task force go up there every day. "I went first," said Colonel "Hap" Argo. "The Marines were not dug in. Colonel Lownds was there. What a loser, what a loser! A complete loser. They were afraid to relieve him. The Marines were afraid they'd lose face if they relieved him. 'Prop him up!' was their approach."4
Westmoreland, though outwardly confident of Khe Sanh's ability to defend itself, asked Argo, the MACV historian, to study and compare Dien Bien Phu and Khe Sanh. When Argo reported his findings, said Westmoreland, "he gave a gloomy presentation" that "stunned" the staff. Afterward Westmoreland, he later wrote of himself, took charge, "deliberately getting the attention of all," speaking in a "firm voice," and insisting that the allies would not be defeated at Khe Sanh. Then he "strode deliberately from the room." The tenor of this account makes it clear that Westmoreland was proud of how he had handled the matter.5
The Marines did not want to be at Khe Sanh, and senior Marine officers such as Lieutenant General Victor Krulak were frustrated and angry about Westmoreland's fixation on the place. "Like the people who were bearing the brunt of it," wrote Krulak later, "I hated the bad choice that put them there."6 To Krulak, Khe Sanh was "a tactical albatross."7
Westmoreland sent a tutorial cable to Marine Lieutenant General Robert Cushman, Commanding General of III Marine Amphibious Force, expressing his deep concerns about Khe Sanh. "I keep getting recurring reports that the Marines are not digging in at Khe Sanh. Most of these reports are from the press and I am sure that there is the usual exaggeration, but I want to be sure that you are aware of this." Continuing, "I cannot overemphasize the importance of continuous improvement of your position at Khe Sanh, and that this requires strong and constant command attention. The chain of command must constantly emphasize this important matter to insure that troops are given the maximum protection and capability to fight under strenuous conditions."8
The enemy's buildup around the position eventually amounted to most of two divisions, positioned on overlooking hill masses that gave their artillery and rockets excellent vantage points for pouring near-continuous fire into Khe Sanh. General William DePuy wrote after the war that the communist forces at Khe Sanh "were invisible except to Marine patrols in contact and, eventually, aerial observation of encircling trench lines." The enemy, he said, "fought by stealth and silent encroachment." DePuy also calculated the extraordinary costs of achieving the claimed casualties inflicted on the enemy. "If 50 percent of all enemy combat deaths are attributed to air attack (a generous allocation)," he wrote, "the return on investment in air power was one kill for every three sorties, including those of B-52s."9
On 20 January 1968 the Battle of Khe Sanh commenced with strong enemy attacks by fire against the combat base. Three days later Westmoreland sent a message to Sharp and Wheeler, trying to head off any suggestion that Khe Sanh should be evacuated. "I unreservedly maintain that Khe Sanh is of significance, strategic, tactical, and most importantly, psychological," he insisted.
Westmoreland understood that the key to successfully holding off enemy forces at Khe Sanh was allied air power. He instructed General William Momyer, his Air Force deputy, to plan such defenses. "I gave it the code name Niagara," said Westmoreland, "to invoke an image of cascading shells and bombs." There was plenty of cascading, all right, with by one account over 24,000 fighter-bomber sorties and 2,700 by B-52s dropping a total of 110,000 tons of bombs during the enemy's seventy-seven-day siege.10 Westmoreland was gratified by the results, predicting in his memoirs that "Khe Sanh will stand in history, I am convinced, as a classic example of how to defeat a numerically superior besieging force by co-ordinated application of firepower."11 For his part General Momyer simply observed that "enemy attacks never developed to more than a large scale probing maneuver."
Westmoreland added one more thing: "There was another possibility at Khe Sanh: tactical nuclear weapons."12
He was serious about it. "If Washington officials were so intent on 'sending a message' to Hanoi," he wrote, "surely small tactical nuclear weapons would be a way to tell Hanoi something." Washington was having no part of it, however. "Although I established a small secret group to study the subject," Westmoreland reported, "Washington so feared that some word of it might reach the press that I was told to desist. I felt at the time and even more so now that to fail to consider this alternative was a mistake."13
"No single battle of the Viet Nam war has held Washington—and the nation—in such complete thrall as has the impending struggle for Khe Sanh," offered Time magazine in mid-February.14 Actually, though, Khe Sanh had by then more or less ebbed away, not producing the climactic set piece battle apparently envisioned, perhaps even hoped for, by Westmoreland, and certainly not turning out to be determinative in any way for either side. That had to be disappointing, for Westmoreland had earlier told Sharp and Wheeler that in his opinion "the confrontation in Quang Tri may well be the decisive phase of the war."15 Even so, Westmoreland viewed himself as having bested his opponent, writing in his memoirs that Khe Sanh "evolved as one of the most damaging, one-sided defeats among many that the North Vietnamese incurred, and the myth of General Giap's military genius was discredited."16
Afterward Westmoreland stated that "no single battlefield event in Vietnam elicited more public disparagement of my conduct of the Vietnam war than did my decision to stand and fight at Khe Sanh."17 He sounded rather pleased about it. In an interview published two decades later he was asked which of the decisions he made as commander in Vietnam he was most proud of. "The decision to hold Khe Sanh," he responded.18
When it came time to assess what had been accomplished, though, Westmoreland's nominal superior, Admiral Ulysses'S. Grant Sharp, expressed a dramatically different outlook. "The Communist strategy continued to reflect an effort to draw Allied forces into remote areas," he observed in a 1969 report, "especia
lly those areas adjacent to border sanctuaries, leaving populated areas unprotected. This enabled enemy local and guerrilla forces to harass, attack, and generally impede government efforts. Through these means the Viet Cong continued to exert a significant influence over large portions of the population."19
The Americans did hold on to their base at Khe Sanh. Westmoreland later added up the cost: "My staff estimated that the North Vietnamese lost 10,000 to 15,000 men in their vain attempt to restage Dien Bien Phu. The Americans lost 205."20 Defense of the base had required massive commitment of air power and the shifting of large numbers of ground forces to the northern provinces, but an all-out enemy ground attack (if one was ever intended) had been deterred and Khe Sanh was held.
THERE WAS ONE FINAL bit of the Khe Sanh drama to be played out a few months later, shortly before Westmoreland left Vietnam for the final time. He was away on some preliminary business in the United States. Abrams, left in charge, convened a meeting at Phu Bai, where he announced plans to move out of Khe Sanh. Marine Major General Rathvon Tompkins, commanding 3rd Marine Division, was "charged with the phaseout of the Marines and the dismantling of the base." But when Westmoreland returned and reasserted control, stated Tompkins, he "was quite adamant that Khe Sanh would not be abandoned until such time that General Abrams was in the chair; that he, Westmoreland, felt it was necessary to retain Khe Sanh. It was just that simple. And he said it, too, in front of a group of staff officers. So the decision was actually Abrams'."21 For the time being the withdrawal was put on hold.