Partially False Alarm

With no weightier weapon than the press communique, Laos' rattled politicians managed to convince the world last week that the brink of war was near. "Foreign forces of North Viet Nam have attacked." cried the Laotians. "An estimated strength of six battalions." Next day Information Minister Bouavan Norasingh announced dramatically that the northern provincial capital of Phongsaly had just fallen, though "our troops fought to the last bullet." Who had captured Phongsaly? Bouavan stared at the ceiling for a moment and answered: "The Viet Minh and the Chinese Communists." With no way of knowing what was actually going on along the remote frontier, the U.S. took the news with a grain of salt--but alerted its Pacific striking force.

All that had actually happened in Phongsaly was that the local army commander was out of sorts with the government and in a sulk had turned off his radio set. When Vientiane noted that radio contact had been broken off, the government assumed the worst. As for the Communist "invasion" itself, that story apparently originated when two battalions of North Vietnamese gathered near the border one dark night, set up an eerie howl and fired their weapons in all directions, touching off blind panic at the Laotian garrison in the nearby town of Nonget. It all brought memories of July 1959, when Laos cried invasion but could not produce a single Viet Minh prisoner when the U.N. sent an inspection team.

Two Men. But if world war was not at hand, little Laos was nonetheless locked in a dangerous power struggle between East and West. By week's end the possibility of a real explosion had made the U.S.'s allies so nervous that the U.S. reluctantly abandoned its long struggle to maintain pro-Western rule in Laos and started working instead to make the country a neutralized buffer zone.

For months each side has had a man in Laos. The Russians back Captain Kong Le, an ebullient paratrooper who captured Vientiane back in August with a battalion-sized coup. The U.S.'s man was General Phoumi Nosavan, a cautious soldier who four weeks ago chased Captain Kong Le out of Vientiane and installed the government of Premier Boun Oum, an easygoing prince from southern Laos.

Quick Lift. After losing the battle for Vientiane, Kong Le led the remnants of his battalion north to the jungle town of Vang Vieng. The Russians began an airlift from Hanoi to drop him supplies, and he picked up reinforcements from the Communist Pathet Lao guerrillas, who roam freely through back-country Laos.

Last week, while the attention of the world (and the Laotian army) was diverted by the supposed invasion from North Viet Nam, Russian Ilyushins slipped into a newly bulldozed airstrip at Vang Vieng, picked up Kong Le, 400 of his men and about 300 tons of supplies and dropped the whole load on the strategic Plaine des Jarres, a broad plateau that commands north central Laos (see map). Kong Le's first step was to capture an airstrip to handle the Ilyushins. Next he captured the town of Xiengkhouang.

The Russians kept flying in supplies--and probably a few Vietnamese officers and technicians as well. In a stiff protest, the U.S. State Department released a list of 184 observed sorties over a two-week period and included the serial numbers of nine Soviet Hyushin-14 planes that had been on the Hanoi-Laos run. Five of the planes, said the U.S., had been involved in the earlier "clandestine" operation by the Soviets in the Congo. Added a State Department spokesman: "If you were to conclude that the Russians have a special force for dealing with troubled areas, I wouldn't disagree with you."

Reluctant Stalemate. By his one swift Russian-aided move, Kong Le had virtually cut the country in two and was poised to strike either south toward Vientiane or north toward the royal capital of Luangprabang. But he was outmanned by the larger government garrisons and seemed content to fight minor patrol actions. Nor did General Phoumi seem anxious for a battle to the death.

As an uneasy stalemate settled in, the U.S. reluctantly dropped its hopes of a clear-cut military solution in Laos. The British and French thought the U.S. had already gone too far with its plentiful supplies of weapons and Central Intelligence Agency advisers to General Phoumi. The truculent Russian airdrops convinced the nervous U.S. allies that, if pushed too hard, the Soviets might just be willing to start another Korea, this time using North Vietnamese to do the fighting. Equally weighty advice came from the Pentagon, whose planners found the prospects dismaying. With no seaport, jet airfields or railroad, with only 500 miles of all-weather roads (the main road between Vientiane and the outside world runs along the Mekong, is under water six months of the year), backward Laos is an ideal buffer zone but a terrible battleground.

The Victim. And there was no sign that the U.S. would be recognized as fighting the people's cause. Of Laos' 2,000,000 inhabitants, only about half are ethnic Lao, who inhabit the fertile river valleys and the seats of government. But the tribal groups in the hills and remote jungle have never knuckled under to any central government. The Kha of the south still offer up human sacrifices at their marriage feasts, traditionally choosing as victim the grandfather of the bride.

The tribes resent the more affluent Lao and with some reason, since virtually none of the $300 million in U.S. aid has ever trickled out of the pockets of the Vientiane politicians and into the poorer sections. The Pathet Lao Communists have played shrewdly on these feelings, have won much support by promising tribal autonomy when they take over the country (after which they will, of course, revoke the autonomy). Though their leaders are mostly dedicated Communists, the Pathet Lao have generally avoided terror tactics, and even share the general Laotian proclivity for rice-wine bouts and fertility festivals. They have many friends among the peasants and tribesmen, who feed them and keep them warned about military movements. Well trained and armed by North Viet Nam, the Pathet Lao usually travel in bands of five or six and try to avoid combat. On their occasional raids, they are helped by North Vietnamese cadres.

Helluva Thing. If the U.S. got into a war under such conditions, asked one Southeast Asian official with bitter memories of Dienbienphu, "would the marines be prepared to stay in the jungles five, six or ten years?" Admitting that "this is a helluva thing for a military man to say," one of the U.S.'s top soldiers declared himself in favor of "political adjustment" rather than a showdown.

The first step toward a political solution was to stop the Russian airlifts. The one shred of legality to which the Russians cling is that the supplies were requested by the neutralist government of Premier Souvanna Phouma, who was put in power by Kong Le and is still recognized by the Russians, though he is now surf-bathing in comfortable exile in Cambodia. To end this charade, the U.S. flew National Assembly members to Vientiane from all over Laos last week to vote the Boun Oum government into office. All 41 legislators voted approval (the rest of the 59-man Assembly could not be found). King Savang Vatthana gathered the Cabinet in the National Assembly and gave his official blessings before a gilt statue of Buddha. Approached by a reporter in Cambodia at this point, Souvanna, a peaceable man, hinted he would now resign, thus leaving the Russians without a "government" to support.

As a next step, and a complete policy reversal, Secretary of State Christian Herter said he now agreed with the British and French that the International Control Commission (India, Canada, Poland) that policed Laos for four years after the 1954 Geneva conference should be revived. Premier Boun Oum was at first reluctant--though his main stated objection was that on their earlier stay the Indians had brought an entourage of 400, who took over the best houses in town, refused to bathe in anything but soda water and cost Laos $12,000 a month in upkeep. The allies will also insist that Boun Oum broaden the political base of his government, which at the moment consists chiefly of his own relatives. Probability is that Souvanna would be asked to come back and join the Cabinet.

Red Reversal. The question mark was Russia. Premier Khrushchev just a fortnight ago called loudly for revival of the control commission. But no sooner had the U.S. come around to the idea than Khrushchev began to hedge. Now he demanded an "Asian arbitration congress" instead. He may still deny the legality of the Boun Oum government, claiming that it was elected under duress, and go right on dropping supplies to Kong Le. But at week's end there were no Ilyushins in the air over Laos.

The allies think that Khrushchev will let the fire go out in Laos, lest the West be forced to take tougher steps itself. He also badly wants a summit conference with the U.S.'s incoming President, John Kennedy, and he is not likely to let his opportunities for troublemaking in Laos jeopardize that larger concern.

But since the effect of the control commission, if it works, will be to freeze the status quo, Khrushchev doubtless wanted to grab what he could before that day came. In Kong Le he had a tough fighting man sitting on the country's crossroads. In the Pathet Lao, he had a supple organization that keeps gaining ground in the back country, no matter what government is in power. Even when it achieves the first goal of restoring peace, the U.S. will face the long-range challenge of reversing that losing trend.

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