Down, Down, Down

Is South Viet Nam literally ungovernable? More than ever it looked that way last week as the latest regime was installed in Saigon, amid the usual grim expressions of resolve and the usual lofty promises of reform. Hardly had the new Premier, Tran Van Huong (TIME, Nov. 6) moved into his office when he ran head-on into the same murky obstacles that had undermined not only the government of Ngo Dinh

Diem, who was murdered a year ago supposedly to clear the way for reform, but had brought down the regime of Soldier-Premier Nguyen Khanh as well.

To satisfy the clamor for a civilian government, Huong had put together a Cabinet of younger men (average age: 47) than had ruled before. They were bureaucrats and technicians who in general were chosen for ability, not to satisfy political debts. The Cabinet was, in Huong's words, determined to "crack down on graft and nepotism, strengthen the economy, improve housing, education and health." What could be wrong with that? Plenty, according to powerful Ngu yen Xuan Chu, 73, acting chairman of the High National Council, a group of official watchdogs known to Saigon cynics as the "National Museum." Huffing that he had not been consulted on the makeup of the government, Chu resigned. His real complaint seemed deeper than that at least as deep as the grumbling of those apostles of ambiguity and anarchy, the Buddhists, who acidly objected to Premier Huong's ad monition that "a sharp line must be drawn between politics and religion." Obviously the supposedly unworldly Buddhists do not cherish the doctrine of the separation of Pagoda and State.

Delicate Inquiries. Suddenly Saigon's press blossomed with warnings that "in critical times religion cannot let the military and the politicians have a free hand in national affairs," and from the main pagoda in HuE, Buddhist priests began warning their followers that Buddhism faced "new threats," called on loyal Buddhists to defend the faith "against its enemies." Apart from the pressure on Huong to reshuffle his Cabinet to include direct Buddhist representation, other political factions were raising their voices. Disregarding a warning by Huong against public demonstrations, a noisy rally of the National Student Union concluded with a call for dissolution of the new government and a vow to take to the streets to enforce the demand. The politicians were also sharpening their knives for Nguyen Khanh, who had only recently stepped aside as civilian leader, but stayed on as military commander in chief. In his lurching efforts to build a workable government, Khanh had purged many powerful army officers, now was reaping the rewards. Last week various members of the High National Council slipped over to the U.S.

embassy to inquire delicately what the American attitude would be if Khanh were removed as army commander. In effect, if not in so many words, the answer was that the U.S. wants Khanh.

To exasperated U.S. officials, the continued political machinations seemed destined only to frustrate the fight against the Viet Cong further.

Now every day brought defeat to the government troops struggling to track down and kill the elusive guerrillas.

Moreover, the Viet Cong inflicted a galling psychological defeat on the U.S.

forces themselves, revealing at least part of the U.S. command as grossly careless and inept.

Tempting Target. For months, row after row of U.S. aircraft-helicopters, fighter-bombers, long-range U-2 reconnaissance planes-have stood wing to wing at the important Bienhoa airport, a dozen miles northeast of Saigon.

Many Air Force officers have worried at the lack of adequate perimeter defense at the base. Especially vulnerable was the northern edge of the field, where for some reason no one ever thought to clear the bush and trees that offer concealment along a wide gentle slope not far from the barracks where U.S. troops at the base are quartered.

Bienhoa became all the more tempting to the Communists after the Tonkin Gulf clashes, when more than 30 big B57 jet bombers flew in from Pacific bases as stand-by weapons in case a long-range attack on North Viet Nam or even China-should be called for.

Most of the B-57s crews were asleep when a little band of Viet Cong crept to within 2,500 yards of the Bienhoa flight line, took accurate aim and blasted the barracks and airstrip with 81-mm. mortars. G.I.s ran pell-mell from their bivouac as more than 100 rounds fell onto the sleeping quarters, injuring 72 and killing four. Already, the midnight raiders had pumped shell after shell onto the B-57s, destroying six and damaging at least six more.

Fire spread quickly from plane to plane because they stood so close together; sandbags would have saved many from shrapnel, but such protection did not exist because, U.S. officers explained lamely, there was insufficient local labor to fill and stack them.

As dawn broke, a tardy Vietnamese search group set off in chase, but the rebels were nowhere to be found. It remained only to clear the debris from Bienhoa's strip-blackened hulks of the wrecked planes, the bodies of the dead from the barracks, and the few dud mortar shells that had fallen without exploding. Ironically, they bore the marking "Made in USA, 1944" and were apparently part of the booty captured by the Communists when the French surrendered in 1954.

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