Non-Policing a Non-Truce

IF the fighting refuses to die down in Cambodia, it threatens to flare up with pre-Paris vigor in South Viet Nam. Despite the elaborate peace-keeping machinery and the tough talk from Washington, the skirmishing throughout the South last week surged to the highest level since the days immediately following the January ceasefire.

At one South Vietnamese government outpost near the Cambodian border, Tong Le Chan, some 400 ARVN troops were surrounded by an entire Communist regiment, and large-scale fighting there seemed to be imminent. Some intelligence experts predict a general surge of Communist military activity later this month.

Up to this point, in any case, the machinery designed to supervise the truce has proved remarkably ineffective. All told, the Communists and the Thieu regime have charged more than 90,000 truce violations, ranging from isolated shellings to battalion-level battles. Yet the vaunted International Commission of Control and Supervision (ICCS), with its 1,160 neutral observers, its 42 local offices throughout South Viet Nam and its fleet of black-and-silver planes, has managed to complete investigations and file final reports on only six truce violations. At week's end, two helicopters carrying eleven ICCS members were reported missing in Northern Quang Tri province; one of the choppers was believed to have been hit by ground fire.

The very presence of the ICCS in Viet Nam is crucial; if the truce-observing machinery were to break up, the whole Paris agreement --and all hopes of a genuine peace --could unravel quickly. There are two reasons why that vital machinery has turned out to be impotent. The main problem is that, largely because of North Vietnamese opposition, the Paris accord did not set up an above-the-battle "standing authority" to which the ICCS can report. Instead, the ICCS is responsible mainly to the two-party Joint Military Commission, whose warring Communist and Thieu-regime delegates are not likely ever to agree on what ought to be done about truce violations.

The other problem lies within the ICCS itself. Given the natural divisions between the Canadians and Indonesians, who generally try to maintain a professionally neutral posture despite their Western sponsorship, and the Poles and Hungarians, who invariably favor the Communist side, nearly all ICCS teams suffer a built-in paralysis. TIME Correspondent Barry Hillenbrand visited one ICCS team last week in Tri Ton, a small town in the Mekong Delta. His report:

"Oh, yes, we know that the Communists are up there," the South Vietnamese major said cheerfully as he pointed to a nearby mountain. "But, unfortunately, G-2 doesn't know exactly where they are. If they did, we'd call in an air strike."

The major casually explained all this while standing on the front porch of the ICCS headquarters in Tri Ton. Inside the broken-down building, the two-man teams busied themselves with a variety of midday tasks: sleeping, reading and showing a visitor around.

Unfortunately, there is nothing very extraordinary about an ARVN officer talking about air strikes within earshot of the men who are supposed to be overseeing the peace in Viet Nam. They are fully aware that the war continues.

One Communist mortar shell recently dropped right into a new compound being prepared for the ICCS, killing one workman and injuring three others. "We really were not in great danger," said one of the Canadians, "because the Communists knew every inch of this ground. If they had wanted to hit us, they could have. I think they were simply trying to frighten us away."

The Paris accord insists that all official ICCS reports be unanimous, but the Polish and Hungarian observers on the commission are not always in the mood for unanimity. When a boat steaming along the delta was hit by a Viet Cong rocket, the Polish delegate reported that "it is possible that during a low tide the boat had seated itself on the explosive device lying on the bottom of a canal, thus causing the boat to sink."

One day last week, the team at Tri Ton did reach unanimity. While investigating another incident, the observers heard an artillery round whiz overhead.

It came from the ARVN artillery base and landed in Communist-controlled territory. The team's report, filed to the ICCS regional office in Can Tho, said that the round was a clear violation. It was a minor triumph for the team--but, of course, it did not stop the ARVN troops from firing at will into the hills.

For the most part the life of the ICCS team at Tri Ton is a steady stream of hot, humid days inadequately filled with reading, eating and tedious paper work. A Vietnamese staff of 42 (including twelve guards and numerous cooks and maids) does most of the menial tasks. "We are not accustomed to servants in our country," says one of the Eastern Europeans, "but we can get used to this." He smiles as one of the Vietnamese servant girls pads by in black satin pajamas.

For diversion, Tri Ton offers an interesting pagoda, a few colorful tombs and a lively market. The nearest restaurant is two hours away by car. The truce inspectors seldom leave their compound, however, except on business. They eat mediocre American-style food--provided under a contract by an American company --play Ping Pong and stage parties for each other.

Evenings bring a slight cooling and a certain degree of formality. The Poles, who spend the day in swimming shorts or underwear, change into their baggy uniforms and hunt-and-peck on the typewriters, turning out reports to be packeted to Can Tho. The Hungarians, who sport smart blue athletic shorts and white V-necked T shirts by day, slip on long pants and also work on reports. The Indonesians, accustomed to the daytime heat, spend all their time in full uniform. And the Canadians, who have no uniform of the day, stroll about in shorts at night.

Manfred von Nostitz, a 31-year-old Foreign Service officer who heads Canada's delegation in the lower part of the delta, is mildly boggled by the absurdity of his role. Says he: "We report on incidents to the two parties to the Vietnamese conflict, who know all too well what's happening in the first place." The Canadians have reluctantly agreed to stay on another couple of months, but they will argue for a pullout if there is no genuine peace in sight by then.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.