Page 96 of Cry Havoc

“The problem with American policy in Vietnam is that it is based around a single principle that your president’s advisors, for all their education and experience, have bought into ‘hook, line, and sinker’ as I believe you like to say.”

“And what is that?”

“Anti-communism. Anti-communism is your doctrine. That makes it easy to counter. It silences debate. The consensus is around anti-communism and not Vietnam. The communists are threatening to take over the free world, yet we voted freely in January 1946, and we voted for communism. You have become so focused on how to save the government of South Vietnam that you stumbled right past any coherent debate on why the government of South Vietnam is worth saving. That will be your ultimate downfall.”

“What do you say to the notion of collective security as outlined in the UN charter? You benefit from the U.S. providing security on the seas around the globe. Trade and commerce have flourished since the end of World War Two.”

“It’s one of the reasons import and export is such a profitable business. I don’t have to pay to defend my ships. The United States does it for me.”

“If South Vietnam falls, isn’t Thailand next?”

“Your Domino Theory.”

“Yes.”

“We have a contingency to set up our headquarters in Thailand should the need arise, if that gives you an answer. You are looking at Vietnam as the test, a crucial test, of the ability of the military and political might of the United States to counter the Soviets and Chinese through a third party. You yourselves made it a test.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

“Ah, the real question. Your government won’t do it.”

“What?”

“Have the South Vietnamese government request that you leave. Have them publicly say they are ready to take on the North. Have them thank your country for all you have done. That is probably something that in hindsight you should have done following the crackdowns on the Buddhists or the November 1963 coup, but you didn’t. It is not too late to orchestrate a reason to leave. Then go ahead and put bases in Thailand if that makes you feel better. Counter the red menace from there.”

“Then Saigon will fall.”

“And fall it may very well. But you control the timing. Think of the lives you will save. Not everyone here is a staunch anti-communist, regardless of what they tell you to your face.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A communist or anti-communist?”

“I am a businessman. It is not so simple for me, or for my daughter.”

“One day you might have to pick a side.”

“Perhaps. Though I was born without a country. That gives me flexibility. You and Mr. Smith were born to your side. And since we are talking as friends, I will give you another tip. Stop framing this conflict in terms ofvictory. Your countrymen see victory through the lens of VE Day and parades from the Second World War. What you are really doing in Vietnam is avoiding defeat, maybe even just prolonging the inevitable. Victory and avoiding defeat are two different things, Mr. Serrano.”

“So, defeat is inevitable?”

“You walked into a trap. You inherited a war from the French. A war the Viet Minh won. And now you have invested so much military and economic, not to mention political, capital into South Vietnam that those losses have consumed your approach, so much so that you have forgotten to ask the all-important question: What is the importance of Vietnam tothe United States? Rubber? Maybe, but there are other places you can grow rubber. What do you want here?”

“Our goal is for the government in Saigon to exercise sovereignty over the South; the elimination of guerrilla and terrorist attacks from the North; the defeat of the insurgency supported by Hanoi; and the cessation of large-scale cross-border attacks by the NVA into South Vietnam.”

“And how long do you think you can sustain the strategic losses of Tet to achieve this? One year? Two years? Three? Four? Mr. Smith, what do you think?” Gaston asked.

“It’s a question of will. On my first deployment back in ’63, we captured a VC guerrilla hiding in a village. He had a three-day-old stomach wound. His intestines had spilled out, and he had put them in a dirty cooking bowl offered by one of the villagers. I think about him when I think about the will of the enemy.”

“And what did you do with him?”

“We got our corpsman on him immediately. Washed the intestines in clean water from our canteens and called in a Huey. Transported him to the FOB, where they stabilized him as best they could and then got him to Saigon for next-level care. I don’t know what happened to him. I like to think he survived.”

“And why is that? Isn’t he your enemy?”

“He was. But we probably have more in common with one another than we do with the people who ordered us into the trenches from the relative safety of Washington and Hanoi. Or maybe I just respect anyone who can live for three days with their guts in a bowl.”