Tiptoe to the Rescue

A trifle clumsily, the U.S. last week tried to tiptoe to the rescue of the Congo government. Alarmed at the mounting conquests of leftist-backed warriors and unable to interest friendly African or European countries in helping Premier Moise Tshombe's beleaguered government, Washington decided to "strengthen" its military and economic aid.

Off to Leopoldville last week winged four C-130 Hercules transports, which the State Department said would be used to airlift Tshombe's troops and supplies to rebel-threatened areas. Aboard the big planes were 44 hand-picked U.S. paratroopers--equipped with Jeeps, bazookas, grenade launchers and machine guns. What would they be used for? Well, said State, they would guard the planes.

Oh? Just as eyebrows were going up, three U.S. helicopters followed the paratroopers into Leopoldville, and the line was hastily changed. The helicopters would be flown by U.S. pilots on "rescue and logistical missions" for Tshombe's army, and the paratroopers would ride shotgun. But not, said a briefing officer in Leopoldville, as combat troops. Question: Might not their shotgun duties get them into combat situations? Answer: "I cannot comment on that kind of hypothetical question." Still later, another "official" line was that the helicopters would not be used to help Tshombe at all, and had been sent only for possible evacuation of American citizens.

Senatorial Outcry. Whatever their purpose, the paratroopers and helicopters were hardly the first U.S. involvement in the Congo war. Since last month, some 70 American officers and men have been working closely with the Congolese army on guerrilla warfare and paratroop techniques. In addition, the U.S. has given Tshombe's army about ten C-47 transport planes, ten helicopters, 70 Jeeps, 250 trucks, and seven of the ubiquitous little T-28 trainers that have proved so useful on strafing and bombing missions against Communist guerrillas in Southeast Asia. Washington was even thoughtful enough to provide the pilots--and sensitive enough to American public opinion to have recruited them from the ranks of anti-Castro Cubans.

But what would the public say about the latest shipment of U.S. aid? In the Senate, Mississippi Democrat John Stennis, long a supporter of a strong foreign policy, rose to ask if the U.S. was about to enter "another undeclared war," then warned solemnly: "I strongly oppose letting the Congo become our African Viet Nam."

An ominous echo of Stennis' outcry came from deep inside the Congo itself, where rebel leaders of the Red-backed National Liberation Committee now hold sway over vast portions of the lawless hinterland. For weeks the rebels had been warning Belgium that any use of white officers to lead Tshombe's bedraggled troops would lead to the slaughter of the hundreds of Belgian civilians. Now the committee's commander in Stanleyville, "General" Nicholas Olenga, was making threats about Americans as well. "We are a sovereign and independent country, which has an internal war on its hands, and it is for none but ourselves to settle our differences," he declared, adding that more U.S. aid to Tshombe "would most regretfully compel me to reconsider my position vis-a-vis nationals of that country in my territory." The most immediate danger was to the small group of Americans in the consulate at occupied Stanleyville.

Fleeing Population. The Congo government was in no position to help them. Despite strafing attacks by the T-28s, the rebels moved close to the eastern Congo city of Bukavu, and most of its white population were fleeing. Hundreds of miles to the west, dependents of missionaries and United Nations personnel flew out of two other provincial capitals that had been safe the week before. Reports of an advancing rebel column in Katanga were sending waves of fear through Tshombe's former stronghold of Elisabethville.

As usual, Tshombe's dispirited army regulars panicked at almost every confrontation. The powerful army unit ordered by Tshombe to drive the rebels out of Stanleyville poised menacingly just across the Congo River from the city, then turned and beat one of the fastest retreats in history -- 560 miles to the rear in one day. At another major town, when a freak lightning bolt blew up an army powder magazine, the terrified garrison, convinced it was surrounded, fired back -- in every direction.

About the only man who seemed undisturbed about it all was Premier Tshombe himself. The Premier last week huddled with visiting U.S. Assistant Secretary of State G. Mennen Williams, who had rushed to Leopoldville from Washington for discussion of the new rebel crisis. As usual, Tshombe claimed to be optimistic about the whole situation. "We are going to re-establish order quickly and by our own means," he declared, adding stoutly and somewhat contradictorily, "The National Liberation Committee does not exist. They are rebels and outlaws. I never negotiate with outlaws. I have already negotiated enough. However, I am keeping the door open."

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