The Boys on the Plane

Henry Kissinger's African shuttle may be the last of the airborne negotiating missions that have become a trademark of his years as Secretary of State. TIME London Bureau Chief Herman Nickel, who formerly was TIME'S State Department correspondent for 2 1/2 years, was aboard the Secretary's twelve-day safari for peace. His report:

If Henry Kissinger weren't meant to fly around the world, God wouldn't have given him wings. In the air, aboard his vintage U.S. Air Force Boeing 707 (it was once used by Lyndon Johnson), the Secretary of State is truly in his element. The plane and the people on it symbolize his highly personalized conduct of American foreign policy.

Limited Expertise. To a man with suspicions of the bureaucracy, heaven is operating from 30,000 ft. in the air. On this African shuttle, Kissinger relied on eight aides. Some--Winston Lord, head of Kissinger's Policy Planning Staff at State, Peter Rodman, a longtime aide, and Larry Eagleburger, Deputy Under Secretary for Management--have been with him almost from the beginning. Another, Harold Saunders, is a Middle East expert whom Kissinger likes to have on hand in case of an emergency.

Expertise on southern Africa, on the other hand, was limited. William Schaufele, the Assistant Secretary for African Affairs, had served only in North and West Africa. Frank Wisner, the new director of the Office of Southern African Affairs, had never been to the region before. Typically, Kissinger selected him for ability rather than expertise, which he is supposed to pick up on the job. Under Secretary for Economic Affairs William Rogers worked on the details of the "safety net" that is supposed to reassure white Rhodesians that majority rule will not lead them to economic ruin. Perhaps the man who had the finest feel for Africa was John Reinhardt, the Assistant Secretary of State for Public Affairs and a former U.S. Ambassador to Nigeria. Reinhardt is black, and while some cynics suspected that this was the reason he had been taken along, his advice proved to be invaluable.

The local U.S. embassies played virtually no role in the proceedings, except to manage the awesome logistics involved in a Kissinger foray abroad. In South Africa, one senior U.S. official first learned of the Secretary's trip from a local journalist. The resident ambassadors were rarely present at the key meetings with white and black leaders. Kissinger is said to fear that area specialists may be too deeply involved in local problems to retain a global perspective--and besides, he prefers to deal with his handful of close associates. As one of them says: "It's one of the reasons he is happiest when he is operating from the plane."

"Good Doctor." As the members of this inner circle have learned the hard way, Kissinger's respect does not protect them from fairly frequent torrents of abuse for real or imagined shortcomings. Seasoned officials are bawled out like village idiots, and there are no apologies later when it turns out that the fault was not theirs--and maybe was even Kissinger's. It is the price the aides pay, willingly enough, for being "present at the creation" with him.

The journalists in the rear of the 707 rarely see this facet of Kissinger's personality. As he strolls down the aisle in shirtsleeves, he is the bantering, witty, jovial "good doctor." He has known many of the diplomatic correspondents as long as he has known his own aides, and he genuinely enjoys their company.

Unlike most of his predecessors, he has learned to use the press as an integral part of his diplomacy. The familiar "senior official" who travels on the Kissinger plane regularly gathers the reporters around the kidney-shaped green conference table in the forward cabin and, with virtuoso skill, dispenses the information and the interpretations that he considers useful to his mission. If an African leader says something negative about U.S. motives, the senior official explains why African leaders must say one thing in public and another in private. Until Tanzanian President Julius Nyerere revealed the framework of the settlement that had been forced on Rhodesia's Ian Smith, the senior official insisted that frustrated reporters should take his word for it that "progress" was being made--whatever that meant.

Obviously, most journalists are well aware that Kissinger plays them like violins. With many stops on the African shuttle lasting less than 24 hours, the reporters are also prisoners of Kissinger's timetable, barely able to finish their filing in some hectic press room before they have to put their baggage in front of their hotel-room doors at such brutal hours as 3 a.m. or 4 a.m.

Exhausting Marathon. Physically, a Kissinger shuttle is as exhausting as a marathon. The massive organization that makes it possible--the airport motorcades, the commandeered hotel space, the baggage that is picked up and delivered, the press facilities set up in advance--cannot compensate for the changes in climate, altitude, diet, water, the weariness that comes with endless waits outside conference sites, the sheer lack of sleep. The longer the trip lasts, the more patients consult the State Department physician aboard the plane.

Yet, like the Secretary's aides, few reporters would want to miss the chance to see "Dr. K." in action. Once more, in his latest African journey, Kissinger has confirmed his faith that sheer American power, together with his own special talents, has given him a unique chance to serve as a catalyst of history.

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