by Lewis Sorley
"Aware that I was to assume Paul Harkins' position," said Westmoreland, "I spent as much time as possible during my early months traveling in South Vietnam in order to get to know the country, the people, the military forces, and the nature of the fighting."14 Then in late March there arose another challenge to Westmoreland's planned succession to the top job. H. R. McMaster describes the episode in Dereliction of Duty. The Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman was then General Maxwell Taylor, and several members of the JCS—Admiral McDonald, General Greene of the Marine Corps, and Air Force General LeMay—had come to believe that Taylor was misrepresenting their views to the President. These officers confided their misgivings to Brigadier General Chester Clifton, an Army officer then serving as President Johnson's military aide, after which Clifton prepared a talking paper and briefed the President. "Clifton told Johnson," noted McMaster, "that the Chiefs felt that Westmoreland was a malleable personality who would fare no better than Harkins."15
For his part, Westmoreland was not favorably impressed by either the staff at MACV or their working habits. "The quality, I thought, was no better than average and in some cases below average," he judged, adding that "that applied to the entire headquarters." He found the outlook to be "business as usual," with people uniformly taking siestas after lunch and enjoying a regular social life. "So it was not a headquarters geared to an emergency situation," he concluded. "The American community had fallen into the sleepy habits of the Vietnamese."16
In March 1964 Westmoreland revealed in a letter to his father that he was receiving inquiries about whether he had any interest in becoming president of The Citadel. Surprisingly, given his new assignment and impending move to the top position in MACV, he told his father, "I have been thinking this over carefully and do not find it an easy decision to make." Hard decision or not, he turned it down. It is hard to imagine how he could have done otherwise. Ten days later Kitsy wrote to family members, "I still hate to think of passing by the Citadel job. What a good life that would have been for all of us." A few days after that she wrote to Westmoreland's parents, again referring to her husband's decision to turn down the Citadel invitation. Westmoreland's hand had been tipped by a public announcement that he was about to succeed Harkins as COMUSMACV. "But," Kitsy added, "I will be frank to admit it is with a great heartache I say this."
WESTMORELAND AND CAPTAIN PALMER were making periodic visits to different parts of the country, including one in late April 1964, when they stayed overnight in Hue. The next day, traveling in an Army Caribou aircraft, they visited a small camp farther north. As Kitsy reported in a family letter, when they were preparing to depart and taxied to the end of the runway, they came under fire. Both pilots were slightly wounded, she said, and two accompanying Vietnamese were wounded quite badly. "Evidently bullets were everywhere, and we can thank God that they missed West. The pilots must have been great, as they kept right on and got out of there in a hurry even though they were wounded."
Another visit was to Malaysia, a trip suggested by the British counterinsurgency expert Robert Thompson, who accompanied the group. Westmoreland and a few others spent several days being briefed on the techniques the British had used to defeat communist insurgents there.17
En route from duty at West Point to the XVIII Airborne Corps, Westmoreland had taken into his entourage Charlie Montgomery, then an E-6 Army enlisted man and eventually a warrant officer. General MacArthur's advice to Westmoreland had included the suggestion that he keep close records in Vietnam, and he did. "I took 160 words per minute shorthand, all verbatim, from him," recalled Montgomery. "I went with him to three presidential conferences: Manila, Midway, and Honolulu. He dictated a memo for the President and told me he had to have it in 30 minutes. I did it in 20 with no errors, then went out and got drunk." Montgomery stayed with Westmoreland for the rest of his active service and beyond, an essential member of the team and processor of the voluminous and valuable chronological material and commentary later known as the Westmoreland "History." Said Montgomery of that extended narrative, periodically dictated in pieces: "Everything in there is true. He did it as we went along—no revisionism. He had character beyond reproach."18
That first Honolulu conference convened on 1 June 1964. Although Harkins was still the MACV commander, Westmoreland attended in his stead and played a significant role in the discussions. "I made several presentations, sat in on policy conferences, and gave them some of my ideas on how we should proceed," he said. Charles MacDonald, later to serve as ghostwriter for the Westmoreland memoirs, noted that in Honolulu "General Harkins' deputy and heir-designate as commander of MACV, Lt. Gen. William C. Westmoreland, was considerably less pessimistic than the advisers from Washington."19
ON 20 JUNE 1964 General Harkins departed, headed back to the United States and retirement, and Westmoreland moved up to succeed him. Right away he scheduled a talk to officers on the MACV staff. Among the items in his handwritten notes for the occasion: "Expect all hand[s] to put in a minimum of 60 hrs per week—even in Hq. All will be happier—and more efficient." Elsewhere he recorded an additional consideration: "Keeps them out of trouble."
The conventional view of the war, even now, is that it was micromanaged from Washington. There are many stories of how, at Lyndon Johnson's White House "Tuesday Lunches," he and other top (mostly civilian) officials would even select and approve individual bombing targets in North Vietnam and make other such detailed determinations about aspects of the war. But those decisions had to do with actions taken outside South Vietnam. Within South Vietnam, the U.S. commander had very wide latitude in deciding how to fight the war. This was true for Westmoreland, and equally true for his eventual successor.
General Bruce Palmer Jr. described how it was not only the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but the political leadership as well, who gave Westmoreland his head. "Washington never made any basic decisions on the strategic concept," he said. "And that left Westmoreland in Vietnam to invent his own strategic concept, which he did. In effect, what he was doing was a war of attrition." This was not, Palmer concluded, a good thing. "There were many weaknesses in this strategy which in numerous interrelated ways played into the hands of the enemy." For one, "chasing around the countryside was futile."20
ON 1 AUGUST 1964, after the usual round of musical chairs in the Army hierarchy, Westmoreland was advanced to the four-star rank of full general. Maxwell Taylor, now Ambassador Taylor, pinned on Westmoreland's new insignia of rank.
Almost immediately Westmoreland had difficulty, although he was apparently not fully aware of it, with Army–Air Force relations. "This problem continues to plague me," General Earle Wheeler said in a 17 September 1964 letter to Westmoreland. He cited allegations in Stennis subcommittee hearings "of a lack of cooperation and coordination between Army and Air Force officers in Vietnam," charges that he said were "neither vitiated by the passage of time nor did they emanate from the Pentagon." General Curtis LeMay and other senior Air Force officers, said Wheeler, were not convinced that air power was being used properly and to maximum effect in Vietnam. In addition, a range of senior Navy and Marine officers, to include the Chief of Naval Operations, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, and the CINCPAC, "believe that the Army has undertaken a deliberate program to undercut the Air Force in Vietnam in the interest of proving the concepts embodied in the air assault division," a new type of Army division then under development.21
Wheeler now put it to Westmoreland very bluntly. "I draw from your messages to me the impression that you consider that the corrective measures you have taken in Vietnam have put out the doctrinal fire there and that the blaze is flaring only in the Pentagon. I assure you that such is not the case." And, "to be exceedingly frank with you," Wheeler told Westmoreland, he feared two things—a Congressional investigation that would get into roles and missions issues, and a Congressional investigation of the conduct of the war in Vietnam. Emphasizing the latter possibility, Wheeler said that "things are not going too well in Vietnam.... Should things go
worse and for any reason we lose—or let's say we don't win—I foresee" such an inquiry.22
IN EARLY DECEMBER Westmoreland sent a fateful message to all senior advisors, directing optimistic outlooks on their part. "As advisors we must accentuate the positive and bring best thought to bear to work out solutions to problems in a dynamic way," he instructed. "Frustration and stagnation are occupational hazards to which larger staffs are subject and which must be prevented by appropriate command attention."23 Negativism would not be tolerated, a dictate certain to have an impact on the reliability of reporting.
WESTMORELAND'S FATHER, James Ripley Westmoreland, died in South Carolina on 14 December 1964. Westmoreland went home alone to attend the funeral, held four days later, Kitsy remaining in Saigon with the younger children. Back in Vietnam, Westmoreland wrote to his mother of how much he had admired his father, "a man of courage, honesty, intelligence and integrity!"24 The press reported that the elder Westmoreland had left an estate exceeding $1.2 million in value and that half the income from the investments would go to his widow, the other half to be divided between his children.
After his father's funeral Westmoreland visited Washington briefly, but surprisingly again had no contact with Lyndon Johnson or Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, even though absolutely crucial decisions on the possible deployment of U.S. ground forces to Vietnam were then in the offing. At the time, said Westmoreland, "I assumed that that was attributable to the President's desire to maintain a low profile on the war. When I learned later that at the time of my visit major new steps for escalating the war were under consideration, I deemed it odd that neither the President nor the Secretary had sought my views."25
ON CHRISTMAS EVE 1964 the Viet Cong carried out a successful terrorist attack on the Brink Hotel, a large structure in Saigon being used by U.S. forces as officers' quarters. Westmoreland had now been in command for half a year. He and Ambassador Taylor proposed some retaliation against the enemy, but Lyndon Johnson would not agree. In a cable to Taylor the President wrote, "I also have real doubts about ordering reprisals in cases in which our own security seems, at first glance, to have been very weak."
Moreover, he continued, "I do not want to be drawn into a large-scale military action against North Vietnam simply because our own people are careless or imprudent. This too may be an unfair way of stating the matter, but I have not yet been told in any convincing way why aircraft cannot be protected from mortar attacks and officer quarters from large bombs." That put the matter squarely in Westmoreland's court. Years later Westmoreland was still incensed, writing in his memoirs about how Washington had cited reasons against reprisal "that may have seemed cogent thousands of miles away but in Saigon were absurd."26
At year's end, President Johnson cabled Ambassador Taylor that he had little faith in the efficacy of bombing and that it seemed to him that "what is much more needed and would be more effective is a larger and stronger use of Rangers and Special Forces and Marines or other appropriate military strength on the ground and on the scene." He would soon order just that. Meanwhile in Saigon Westmoreland and his staff conducted a preliminary study of the forces required, reporting what one analyst called "the startling requirement" for 34 maneuver battalions and the necessary support personnel, a total of about 75,000 people. As things were to evolve, of course, that would be only the beginning.
Westmoreland described 1964 as "a hectic year—characterized by constant political turmoil and Viet Cong military successes."27 During Westmoreland's predeparture visit with General MacArthur, the old soldier had said, "I know you realize that this new assignment carries with it great opportunities, but it also is fraught with hazards."28 A cycle of escalation, enemy resilience, and arguments with Washington was beginning to suggest some of those hazards.
10. Forces Buildup
COMMENTING ON THE Christmas Eve 1964 Brink Hotel bombing and Lyndon Johnson's subsequent invitation to request U.S. ground forces, Westmoreland maintained that "all of us," referring to Ambassadors Taylor and Alexis Johnson and himself, "were conscious of the momentous nature and probable long-range consequences of introducing American ground troops and were anxious to avoid it if at all possible." Given the unfolding events of the following months, this assertion is difficult to credit, at least in Westmoreland's case. To the contrary, he seemed eager to get such forces, and then get more and more of them, while simultaneously pressing for more and more freedom of action in their employment. While he never said as much, and would no doubt have vigorously denied such a suggestion from others, the conclusion is inescapable that Westmoreland decided early on that he could take over the war effort, get the job done promptly, then hand it back to the South Vietnamese and depart in glory.
Certainly that was the way it looked to Ambassador Bui Diem, South Vietnam's longtime emissary in Washington. Despite Americans often saying that it was the South Vietnamese who would in the final analysis have to win or lose the war, he reflected, "the United States took over the war and tried to do everything the American way with almost no consideration as to whether or not such a strategy would meet the complexities or local conditions of the war."1
In a later period, under a different President and a different U.S. commander in Vietnam, plans were laid for "Vietnamization" of the war, implicit acknowledgment that earlier the war had been "Americanized." Ambassador Ellsworth Bunker, who served during both periods, agreed. "It seemed to me we started late in training the Vietnamese, and that we had a lot to make up. In the beginning, I think we had misjudged the war and thought that it would be a short-term proposition that we could finish ourselves."2
The authors of the Pentagon Papers saw it the same way. "Written all over the search and destroy strategy [Westmoreland's approach to conduct of the war, which we will get to very shortly]," they wrote, "was total loss of confidence in the RVNAF [Republic of Vietnam Armed Forces] and a concomitant willingness on the part of the U.S. to take over the war effort."3 Ambassador Robert Oakley, who served in Vietnam as a more junior diplomatic officer during 1965–1967, confirmed that judgment. "I remember the total disdain of General Westmoreland for the ARVN," he said. Westmoreland's outlook on them was: "You can't fight. We don't want you in the way."4
This neglect was costly, as General Richard Stilwell noted in his oral history. "The key problem," he said, "as seen by the American authorities, was to introduce and provide continuing support of the US forces. As a result, there was a reduced effort in expanding, training, and equipping the Vietnamese Army. The development of the ARVN was on the back burner for 3 or 4 years, and we lost some precious time."5
Lieutenant General Julian Ewell viewed the thing whole. "The conventional theory was that we, being strong and mobile, were taking care of the main forces, and somebody else would take care of the rest. But that was not what was needed," he observed. "The enemy operated at many levels, and to defeat him you had to beat them up wherever they were found."6
Meanwhile Ambassador Taylor was trying vainly to stanch the tide of Americans coming to Vietnam. "We could perhaps improve on our use of them," he cabled the President in early January 1965, commenting on the employment of U.S. personnel already in Vietnam, "but we definitely do not need more."7 That view was destined to be overwhelmed by urgent warnings from Westmoreland that, absent new deployments, the South Vietnamese would inevitably be defeated, and soon.
Brigadier General James Lawton Collins Jr., the Army's Chief of Military History, wrote (ironically in one of the Vietnam monographs commissioned by Westmoreland when he was Chief of Staff) that "for a while many U.S. leaders felt that American troops could defeat the insurgency alone." Meanwhile, he said, the following problems resulted from that approach: "By 1966 U.S. forces had been given first priority for men, money, and materiel, and the basic mission of strengthening the Vietnamese armed forces became a second priority. This change immediately lowered the quality of advisory personnel and the availability of the more modern equipment for the Vietnamese Army."8
/> Westmoreland's determination to take over the war was also reflected in the division of combat responsibilities he engineered. He assigned his new U.S. ground forces the task of dealing with enemy main force elements while the South Vietnamese were relegated to support of pacification. In reality, of course, theirs was the more challenging role, as rooting out the enemy's covert infrastructure and strengthening the South Vietnamese governmental apparatus were far more difficult than straightforward combat operations.
Westmoreland also favored U.S. forces over the South Vietnamese when it came to close air and artillery support, helicopters and tactical airlift, and naval gunfire. Lieutenant General John Tolson recalled, for example, that "in 1965 there were just not enough airmobility assets to go around. Partly by design and partly by default, most of the airmobile assets ended up in support of U.S. forces, to the detriment of overall Army of the Republic of Vietnam operations." In fact, he added, "during this phase, the Army of the Republic of Vietnam forces actually had less helicopters available to them than in the period before the buildup."9
THE DECISION TO send U.S. ground forces to Vietnam evolved over the winter and early spring of 1964–1965. Recalled General William DePuy, "Westmoreland sent a message to Washington that said over the last few months we'd been losing almost a battalion a week, and a district town every month. He gave the government six months to live unless something was done. It was that opinion, and that sense of alarm, that underlay the deployment of U.S. combat troops."10
