General Leclerc shared Moutet’s conviction that a strong military response to the Vietminh attack was necessary prior to the opening of peace talks. But Leclerc was also convinced that the final solution to the crisis must be a political one, and Moutet’s refusal to meet with Ho troubled him. On his departure from Indochina on January 9, he noted: “There are too many people here who imagine that a bridge between Vietnam and France can be built on a mound of cadavers.” In his own report to the government in Paris, Leclerc noted that “the complex solution, which will probably not be realized for some time to come, cannot be but political.” France, he concluded, could not use the force of arms to subdue a nation of 24 million inhabitants who are motivated by a strong sense of national identity. To Leclerc, the crucial question was how to replace the existing form of nationalism led by the Vietminh with a less virulent form represented by more moderate political parties. In the meantime, the stronger the French military position on the battlefield, the better the ultimate solution.6
Because Leclerc’s views on the situation corresponded generally with Léon Blum’s own, when the general arrived back in France in mid-January, the prime minister sounded him out on an offer to return to Indochina to serve as commander in chief and high commissioner, replacing Thierry d’Argenlieu, whose hard-line views were now widely viewed as having contributed to the impasse. But before Leclerc could make his decision, Blum was replaced in office by his fellow Socialist Paul Ramadier. Ramadier subscribed to the existing policy of restoring order by force, while making it clear that he was willing to consider the ultimate unification of the three regions of Vietnam into a single state within the French Union. But when the new prime minister would not commit himself to beefing up the strength of French forces in Indochina, Leclerc—on the advice of General de Gaulle—decided to decline the offer of the high commissionership. To fill the position, Ramadier turned to Emile Bollaert, a politician of liberal views and high repute who did not belong to any of the major factions in the National Assembly. Bollaert was described by one U.S. diplomat as “able and energetic but relatively unknown.”7
Bollaert left for Indochina in early March. On his arrival in Saigon, he was immediately faced with a challenge from within his own camp. Under d’Argenlieu’s sponsorship, a move was under way in colonial circles in Saigon to bypass the Vietminh and strike a deal with Bao Dai, the former emperor, who was currently in Hong Kong. Indolent and pleasure-seeking in nature, Bao Dai had stopped using the citizen’s name Vinh Thuy, temporarily lost his zeal for national affairs, and was indulging in the joys of women and the gaming tables. Although the first French contacts with the now corpulent ex-emperor were fruitless, the prospect of a deal with him was gaining supporters, in both France and Indochina. For Bollaert, however, the plan posed a severe dilemma. The Vietminh still had considerable popularity in Vietnam, where Ho Chi Minh was widely respected as a nationalist leader. Before his departure from Paris, Leclerc had advised him to “negotiate at all costs.” Many within Bollaert’s entourage favored talks with the Vietminh, including his chef de cabinet Pierre Messmer and his personal adviser, the respected Indochina scholar Paul Mus. But there were already more than one thousand French troops dead or missing, and sentiment within the French community in Indochina was by now adamantly opposed to a deal with the Vietminh. Bao Dai was the only visible alternative, but could he serve as an alternative to the popular Ho Chi Minh? While the ex-emperor had some support among traditionalists, many Vietnamese were contemptuous of him because of his self-indulgent lifestyle. Others doubted his capacity to unite the chronically fractious nationalist groups, who were badly split on several key political issues.
Ho Chi Minh was still trying to preserve his fragile contacts with the French. On April 23, the non-Communist Hoang Minh Giam, who in March had been renamed DRV minister of foreign affairs, transmitted a message from Ho to Bollaert proposing an immediate cease-fire and the reopening of negotiations to achieve a peaceful settlement of the conflict. Suspicious of the enemy’s intentions and reassured by his advisers that the military situation was now well in hand, Bollaert countered with a set of conditions that demanded the virtual surrender of Vietminh forces prior to the restoration of peace. To convey that message, he turned to Paul Mus, who had once known Ho Chi Minh. On the evening of May 12, Mus held secret meetings, first with Hoang Minh Giam at a location near Hanoi and then with Ho at a house in the provincial capital of Thai Nguyen. Ho listened politely to his visitor, but flatly rejected the French demands. “In the French Union there is no place for cowards,” he remarked. “If I accepted these terms, I would be one.”8
The contemptuous French reply to the Vietnamese proposal for peace talks was undoubtedly a disappointment to Ho Chi Minh, who had continued to express the hope that the French would ultimately reconcile themselves to the loss of their Indochinese colonies. For the moment, however, there was no alternative to the military option. Late that month, he launched a new appeal for national resistance, declaring that the French had posed unacceptable conditions for peace.
But Ho continued to pursue the possibility of an international solution to the problem. Admittedly, the climate of growing ideological hostility between the two global power blocs was not auspicious, and Moscow was still displaying little interest in the struggle in far-off Indochina. Still, there remained the chance that the United States might be induced to play a useful role in resolving the conflict. Indeed, the Truman administration had been observing French actions since the reopening of hostilities in Indochina with some discomfort (although Ho and his colleagues had no reason to be aware of this). A few days after the outbreak of fighting in Hanoi, Under Secretary of State Dean Acheson called French Ambassador Henri Bonnet to the State Department and warned him that the situation in Indochina was inflammatory and, in Washington’s view, could not be resolved by force. Acheson assured Bonnet that the United States did not wish to interfere, but then offered Washington’s good offices in reaching a solution. Paris bluntly rejected the offer, asserting that it would restore order before establishing contacts with the Vietnamese.
A few weeks later, General George C. Marshall, just returned from China, replaced James Byrnes as secretary of state. Since December 1945, Marshall had made periodic visits to Chongqing seeking to cobble together a peace settlement between the Nationalists and the CCP that would result in a coalition government under Chiang Kai-shek. Despite such efforts, however, civil war broke out at the end of 1946. After reviewing the situation in Indochina, Marshall sent a cable to U.S. Ambassador Caffery in Paris—a message that, as the first formal expression of Washington’s views on the subject since the beginning of the Franco-Vietminh conflict, was a masterpiece of ambiguity. The United States has formally recognized French sovereignty in Indochina, Marshall pointed out, and does not wish to interfere in the area. At the same time, he added, “we cannot shut our eyes to fact that there are two sides [to] this problem and that our reports indicate both a lack [of] French understanding of other side (more in Saigon than in Paris) and continuing existence [of a] dangerous, outmoded colonial outlook and methods in area.”
But Marshall immediately undermined the force of his own point by recognizing the nature of the French dilemma: “We do not lose sight [of the] fact that Ho Chi Minh has direct Communist connections and it should be obvious that we are not interested in seeing colonial empires and administrations supplanted by philosophy and political organizations emanating from and controlled by Kremlin.” In the end, Marshall had no solution to offer, and contented himself with the suggestion that the French should keep the negotiations track open and “be generous” in seeking a solution. Marshall’s patently agonizing indecision on how to approach the Indochina tangle set a tone that would last until Truman left office.9
At the end of February, Marshall instructed Consul James O’Sullivan in Hanoi to establish contact with Vietnamese leaders should the opportunity arise. It was not long in coming. In April, Pham Ngoc Thach, the onetime head
of the Vanguard Youth in Saigon who had recently been named a deputy minister in Ho Chi Minh’s government, contacted several American businessmen living in Thailand, as well as Lieutenant Colonel William Law, the assistant military attaché at the U.S. Embassy in Bangkok. After holding informal talks with Colonel Law, Thach agreed to respond to a series of questions posed in writing by Law and by Edwin F. Stanton, the American ambassador. In his reply, Thach emphasized the broad and nonpartisan character of the Vietnamese government, and its commitment to national goals rather than to those of social revolution. Its economic program, he insisted, would “favor the development of capitalist autonomy and call on foreign capital for the reconstruction of the country.” Shortly after, Thach submitted an appeal to representatives of the U.S. business community in Thailand, offering economic concessions in return for various types of agricultural and industrial equipment as well as rehabilitation loans. In the absence of a peace settlement, Thach warned that the Vietnamese were prepared to wage a guerrilla war for six years. At about the same time, Ho gave an interview to an American reporter in which he denied that his government was inspired by Marxist principles and wondered aloud why a solution similar to that which had been achieved in the Philippines and India was not possible in Indochina.10
Initially, the Vietnamese gesture aroused a modicum of interest among State Department officials in Washington, who had already taken note of the appointment of the moderate Hoang Minh Giam as DRV foreign minister in March. In his own comments to Washington, Ambassador Stanton remarked that Pham Ngoc Thach—who had been viewed favorably by U.S. officials in Saigon in late 1945—was “a man of intelligence and very considerable energy.” From Hanoi, O’Sullivan suggested that he meet directly with Thach in Bangkok. Although O’Sullivan voiced reservations about Ho—describing him as “a very shifty character”—he argued that an informal conversation with Thach might at least provide useful information on the nature of the Vietnamese government. Marshall cabled his approval, adding his hope that a meeting with Thach might reveal the extent of Communist control over the Vietnamese government and “the degree of subservience to Moscow to be expected of Communist leaders.” But the meeting never took place. On May 7, Stanton informed the department that Thach had suddenly left Bangkok. Two days later, Marshall instructed O’Sullivan to abandon his plans to visit Bangkok, citing Thach’s departure and U.S. concerns over a possible French reaction to the proposed meeting.
But the incident was not entirely at an end. On May 8, a message from Hoang Minh Giam formally appealed to the United States for diplomatic recognition of his government, declaring that such a move “would increase United States prestige and influence … and establish peace in Southeast Asia.” Pham Ngoc Thach followed up with a second message, asking for political, economic, and cultural assistance and requesting that Washington mediate the Franco-Vietminh conflict in order to bring about a settlement. When these new initiatives came to the attention of Secretary Marshall, he asked his diplomats in Paris, Saigon, and Hanoi for their evaluation of the Vietnamese government and the extent of Communist influence over its leadership. What, he asked, are Ho’s real views? How much of a role would alleged militants like Truong Chinh and Hoang Quoc Viet have in an independent Vietnamese regime? What did non-Communist nationalists think of the Vietminh? Did they understand its Communist orientation? Could they cope with the Communists? Finally, could the DRV be persuaded to grant “reasonably free political expression”?
In his reply, O’Sullivan was cautious, asserting that although Communists had considerable influence in the government, it was not necessarily sufficient to put the country squarely in the Soviet camp, “although there would be a pull in that direction.” He alluded to Ho Chi Minh’s reluctance to admit he was really Nguyen Ai Quoc as an indication that Ho realized that he must deal with the West. O’Sullivan concluded that Ho was trying to obtain aid wherever he could get it and would tend to orient his policies toward whatever source the assistance came from.
Other replies were less sanguine. Charles Reed, O’Sullivan’s counterpart in Saigon, described Ho as “a wily opportunist” who “could bring about the evolution of a Communist state even if the majority of the Vietnamese are not particularly interested in the Communist message.” From Paris, Ambassador Jefferson Caffery weighed in with his own views. Although the Vietnamese people in general were not sympathetic to the Communists, he intoned, from Ho’s past career “there can be little doubt but that he maintains close connections in Communist circles.”11
The rejection of French peace terms by the Vietminh may have disappointed Bollaert, who was apparently sincere in his desire for a political settlement of the conflict, but it did not deter him from pursuing other options. French Minister of War Paul Coste-Floret, who had just completed an inspection tour of Indochina, declared, “There is no more military problem in Indochina. The success of our arms is complete.” With the war situation apparently in hand, Bollaert now began to view the Vietminh not as the sole representative of the Vietnamese people, but as merely one among many groups that might be contacted in the search for peace. Bollaert’s new approach was facilitated by the changing political scene in France, where the Communist Party was no longer in the governing coalition. Prime Minister Ramadier now needed moderate and conservative support to survive in office. With a political solution at least temporarily discredited, eyes now turned to General Valluy in Indochina, who had lost any lingering illusions about Ho Chi Minh’s desire for peace and was convinced that the only solution to the problem was a military one.
In estimating that the military situation was favorable to the French, Coste-Floret was not entirely off the mark. In fact, Vietnamese efforts to maintain cohesion and strength in the opening stage of the war had been a disappointment, and Vietminh forces were frequently in a state of disarray as they faced the French. In some cases, main-force units had been overused or were overly aggressive, leading to heavy casualties. In others, Vietminh commanders displayed a poor grasp of the tactics of guerrilla war, resulting in confusion and widespread troop desertion on the battlefield. Adding to the problem was a continuing lack of firepower. For the most part, Vietnamese units were limited to locally manufactured weapons, or to those captured from the Japanese or the French. Vietminh leaders also tended to overestimate the importance of support from the rural gentry, many of whom refused to declare their allegiance to the cause. And by failing to establish stringent regulations calling for rent reductions, they lost an opportunity to mobilize support from poor peasants, who often dragged their feet when called upon to serve in the war effort.12
Confident in the ultimate success of French forces on the battlefield, General Valluy now proposed an assault on the Vietminh redoubt in the Viet Bac to seize Ho Chi Minh and disperse the rebel forces. Then and only then, in Valluy’s view, would negotiations be appropriate. In the meantime, a concerted political offensive was under way to reduce popular support for the Vietminh and dampen the ardor of those Vietnamese who wanted to drive the French out of Indochina.
One of the problems with Valluy’s approach was that it would require an increase in French force levels in Indochina to over 100,000 troops. So far, there was little public opposition in France to the conflict in Indochina, which must have seemed to most observers like a minor fracas in a far-off corner of the world. The French government, however, was temporarily preoccupied with a bitter anticolonial revolt on the island of Madagascar and was willing to give Valluy only a portion of what he had requested. Valluy was thus forced to draw up his plans with less than the minimum number of troops he considered necessary.
One of the keys to Valluy’s strategy was to eliminate Vietminh activities in Cochin China. To achieve his objective, he assigned nearly half of the French Expeditionary Force (FEF) to that area. Opposing them would be about 18,000 Vietminh regulars under the command of Nguyen Binh. Throughout Indochina, the DRV now deployed nearly 60,000 troops, not counting an underermined number of local militia and gu
errillas. Weak in firepower but mobile in operation and possessing considerable local support, Vietminh battalions were now increasingly able to evade French sweep operations and engage the enemy at spots of their own choosing. The only real success for the French during the summer of 1947 was a political one, as Nguyen Binh’s harsh tactics alienated many of his compatriots in Cochin China and drove the leadership of both religious sects—the Cao Dai and the Hoa Hao—into the arms of the French.13
In the meantime, Bollaert wanted to launch a new peace offensive. Ho Chi Minh had sent a signal of his own that August, dropping reputed hard-liners like the veteran war organizer Ton Due Thang and Vo Nguyen Giap from the ministries of interior and national defense and replacing them with moderates. But Valluy vigorously disagreed with the timing of Bollaert’s effort, and the two were recalled to Paris for consultations. The result was a compromise. In a speech given near Hanoi in September, Bollaert offered a united Vietnam within the French Union, but made no mention of full independence. He did not refer by name to his chief adversary and appealed instead to “all groups of Vietnamese.” According to U.S. observers, many French residents in Indochina were pleased with the speech, but the Vietnamese were “stunned.” On September 15, Hoang Minh Giam presented his government’s response: No liberty without full independence. Three days later, Bao Dai publicly accepted a French offer to negotiate on behalf of his people. But he too insisted that he would accept nothing less than independence and national unity. A hastily formed National United Front composed of representatives of various non-Communist nationalist groups met in Hong Kong and rejected Bollaert’s conditions. The Saigon rumor mill buzzed with unconfirmed reports of secret contacts between Bao Dai and Ho Chi Minh.
Ho Chi Minh Page 57
