Time Magazine, August 22, 1960 “Tale of Two Cities”
A moody soldier trained in a U.S. Ranger course in the Philippines, Captain Kong Le, 26, was under orders to take his battalion 40 miles north to hunt down pro-Communist Pathet Lao rebels. Instead, he moved east to a nearby Laotian army camp, where he won over an armored squadron with the fiery plea: "This fratricidal fighting among Laotians must cease!" Rolling back to Vientiane before dawn, Kongle's 3,000 men swiftly captured the capital, its air port, two generals and a few minor bureaucrats at a cost of only six casualties.
Most of the 28,000-man Laotian army scattered throughout the country either had not heard of the revolt at all or reacted with Laos' soft, favorite phrase, "be pen nyan [it doesn't matter]." To break this stalemate, Kong Le suggested the formation of a new government headed by Prince Souvanna Phouma, half brother of the Communist Pathet Lao commander and onetime neutralist Premier of Laos. This suggestion worried the U.S. State Department, which now concedes that, despite $225 million in U.S. aid since 1955, Laos cannot afford open belligerence toward its Communist neighbors (TIME, Jan. 18) but fears that Souvanna Phouma would lead Laos into neutralism in favor of the Reds.
So far, the only solid accomplishment of Kongle's coup had been to demonstrate how few men are needed to capture a capital city in sleepy Laos—a lesson that was surely being carefully studied by the Pathet Lao rebels.
Time Magazine, October 31, 1960 “Much for Little”
The $1,500,000 government payroll for September was way overdue. The money as usual had to come from the U.S., and the U.S. had been annoyed at Souvanna Phouma's flirting with the Communists. Last week, in the somewhat more promising atmosphere, the U.S. announced that the payroll would be met. Prince Souvanna responded by publishing a National Assembly resolution declaring that "within the country, Laos rejects and combats Communism as incompatible with its religion, traditions and the basic feelings of the Laotian people."
That left Laos about where it has been since 1954—a wobbly stake in the free world's fence against world Communism. Under the Geneva agreement ending the Indo-China war, Red China and North Viet Nam both guaranteed Laos' independence; the Communist Pathet Lao guerrillas in the north were supposed to lay down their arms. Stoked by the Communist Viet Minh from across the border, civil war has flickered for six years, and none of the varying parade of neutralist and anti-Communist Premiers in Laos has been able to put it down.
The U.S. has spent more than $300 million trying to shore up Laos and to make it a bastion of antiCommunist strength. In few areas of the world has the U.S. spent so much for so little. Laotians happily joined the army, now 28,000 strong, but it soon became clear that the attraction was not patriotism but the pay, which amounts to roughly triple the amount an average Lao makes farming or growing opium, the country's only cash crop.
Last week's resumption of aid amounted to recognition of the fact that Prince Souvanna has the only government in sight. The U.S. hopes to strengthen his hand in negotiating with the Pathet Lao. But the negotiators only meet on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. In Laos no one is in a hurry.
Time Magazine, December 19, 1960 “Bell for the Middle Man”
Premier Prince Souvanna Phouma of Laos is clearly a man who prefers the comforting sound of temple bells to the strident sounds of war. And although he was hoisted to the premiership by young (26) and moody Paratroop Captain Kong Le after a successful coup d'état in August, Souvanna basically abhorred soldiers in government ("There is always a coup in the offing"). He loved peace. To re-establish it after seven years of trouble with the pro-Communist Pathet Lao, Souvanna hopefully sought to end the nagging civil war by forming a government of "national union" that would range from his own neutralists to the pro-U.S. faction of General Phoumi Nosavan at one end and the Communist Pathet Lao at the other.
The end came unexpectedly when Colonel Kouprasith's forces, wearing white armbands, and Captain Kong Le's forces, wearing red armbands, threatened to have it out right there in Vientiane. Souvanna decided it was time to go. Still president of Air Laos, Souvanna ordered up a Boeing Stratoliner, piled in his family and six Cabinet ministers and flew off to Cambodia. He blamed all his troubles on the U.S. for failing to give him support while aiding General Phoumi. "Why do they hate me so much?" he asked.
Back in Souvanna's late capital, General Sounthone Pathammavong, army commander in chief under Souvanna, announced that he had formed a "temporary military government." Vientiane Radio told little of what else went on, but gave its listeners some inscrutably Oriental advice on how to carry on under the circumstances: "Do not bruise lotus blossoms; do not muddy clear waters; do not anger frogs; do not harm little frogs."
Time Magazine, January 2, 1961 “Shaky Rule”
The carnage had ended in a rout for Rebel Captain Kong Le, the malcontent paratrooper who had seized control of the city last August to demand conciliation with the Communist Pathet Lao guerrillas and an end to six years of halfhearted jungle warfare. Into the city rolled Prince Boun Oum, 53, the new Premier, along with Laos' real strongman, General Phoumi Nosavan, 40.
The prince soon demonstrated the qualities that make Laotians the despair of Western diplomats. A plump sybarite who in quieter times is fond of repairing to the French Riviera, Boun Oum announced no ringing program. Instead, he flew south most nights to sleep in his quiet and safe former headquarters, Savannakhet. At lunch, his favorite companions turned out to be not candidates for the cabinet but girls from the Vientiane dance halls.
General Phoumi's only announced policy is to "transform all Laotians into Laotians" (i.e., non-Communists). To which Prince Boun Oum added this sage advice: "One can get medicine even out of poisoned mushrooms."
Six years of Pathet Lao insurrection had kept the countryside in turmoil, and had thus made Laos a corridor through which North Viet Nam moved men and supplies to support its guerrillas operating in South Viet Nam. This was a stake that the Communists were not prepared to lose. The Russian news agency Tass warned darkly that U.S. "intervention" could lead to "a second Korea."
But once ensconced in Vientiane, Phoumi (who is a second cousin and staunch admirer of pro-Western Strongman Sarit Thanarat in neighboring Thailand) showed no more zeal than any of his predecessors for running the Communists to ground. It seemed doubtful. Perhaps the best that the U.S. could hope for out of Phoumi's victory in Vientiane was a chaos that calls itself pro-Western.
Time Magazine, January 6, 1961 “The Mix Master”
Basically, the British consider Laos ungovernable by anybody, because of the oddities of its terrain and the unshakable eccentricities of its princeling politicians. Their view was succinctly summarized by the London Times: "If Laos is left to the Laotians, it can be a danger to nobody." The U.S. retorts that, by allowing the Communists to use the country as a supply line into South Viet Nam, Laos can be a danger to its neighbors.
Varieties of Coexistence. With the Western allies in disarray on the risks involved, Nikita Khrushchev was plainly enjoying himself. In his dispute with Peking, he had risked Communist-bloc unity by insisting on "peaceful coexistence," warned loudly of the danger inherent in "small wars." In Laos, Khrushchev was demonstrating just how unpeaceful his brand of coexistence is prepared to be—as is also proved by his brinkmanship in the Congo and Cuba. Khrushchev perhaps even welcomed the chance in Laos to show doubting Communists that he could be as militant as the Chinese when the opportunity afforded.
Time Magazine, January 13, 1961 “Partially False Alarm”
If world war was not at hand, little Laos was nonetheless locked in a dangerous power struggle between East and West. By week's end the possibility of a real explosion had made the U.S.'s allies so nervous that the U.S. reluctantly abandoned its long struggle to maintain pro-Western rule in Laos and started working instead to make the country a neutralized buffer zone.
For months each side has had a man in Laos. The Russians back Captain Kong Le, an ebullient paratrooper who captured Vientiane back in August with a battalion-sized coup. The U.S.'s man was General Phoumi Nosavan, a cautious soldier who four weeks ago chased Captain Kong Le out of Vientiane and installed the government of Premier Boun Oum, an easygoing prince from southern Laos. By his one swift Russian-aided move, Kong Le had virtually cut the country in two and was poised to strike either south toward Vientiane or north toward the royal capital of Luangprabang.
As an uneasy stalemate settled in, the U.S. reluctantly dropped its hopes of a clear-cut military solution in Laos.
With no seaport, jet airfields or railroad, with only 500 miles of all-weather roads (the main road between Vientiane and the outside world runs along the Mekong, is under water six months of the year), backward Laos is an ideal buffer zone but a terrible battleground.
If the U.S. got into a war under such conditions, asked one Southeast Asian official with bitter memories of Dienbienphu, "would the marines be prepared to stay in the jungles five, six or ten years?"
The allies think that Khrushchev will let the fire go out in Laos, lest the West be forced to take tougher steps itself. He also badly wants a summit conference with the U.S.'s incoming President, John Kennedy, and he is not likely to let his opportunities for troublemaking in Laos jeopardize that larger concern.
Time Magazine, January 20, 1961 “Clamor Overhead”
Neutralists and the nervous complained that by supplying the T-6s, the U.S. had risked "provoking" the Communists into expanding the war. Current U.S. policy is still to seek a negotiated solution. But while the international dickering goes on, the U.S. made plain its intention to help the Laotian government in its fight against the Communists.
A man in the middle is exiled Prince Souvanna Phouma, a supple but basically pro-Western politician who Russia loudly insists is still the "legitimate" Premier of Laos (ignoring the fact that he too was brought to power by a coup last August).
A delegation from Premier Boun Oum visited him in Cambodia last week, found him planting gladiolas on the grounds of the borrowed palace where he lives. They offered him a free choice of posts in the new government, hoping to thus put out of business the "government" the Russians claim to be supporting. Souvanna dismissed his visitors as "a pathetic bunch of clowns" and went back to his gardening. "We have been a plaything of the big powers, a doll which has been broken," he said loftily. "It is up to the big powers to mend us."
Time Magazine, February 3, 1961 “Time for Poets”
Such ingenuous diplomacy served as a fair warning that negotiating a peace in Laos would be fully as confusing as fighting a war there. President Kennedy said last week that he wanted to see Laos an "independent country, peaceful country, uncommitted country." Rebel Captain Kong Le still sat astride the central Plaine des Jarres, on the receiving end of a steady Soviet airlift of supplies from North Viet Nam. He concentrated on training his five-battalion force, made up of paratroops, villagers and recruits from the army posts he has captured. He claimed to be only a "neutralist" himself—though he coordinates his attacks with Communist Pathet Lao guerrillas.
Time Magazine, February 10, 1961 “Time Out”
In Laos, whose soldiers are even more inept (but less savage) than the Congo's but whose politicians have better manners, the U.S. was also helplessly talking of "neutralization."
In Paksé, Prince Boun Oum loaded worried Western diplomats on a caravan of elephants and took them on a leisurely tour of surrounding villages, where lithe maidens turned out with bowls of flowers at every stop.
Time Magazine, March 10, 1961 “The Russians in Laos”
The entire Plaine des Jarres is bulging with Russian armaments and swarming with Vietnamese.
Communists admitted that they were as puzzled as has been many a Western diplomat by Souvanna's fuzzy political ideas. "A very complicated man," said a Soviet journalist. "He says one thing one day and something entirely different the next."
Cocky and well disciplined, the rebels are contemptuous of the royal army (though not of the wild Meo tribesmen. who ambush rebel patrols). Neither the rebels nor their foreign advisers talk of peace. "Our side could take over all of Laos in three days," boasted a Russian reporter, one of a dozen Communist-bloc newsmen on the scene. "We have been patient, very patient. It is only a matter of time."
Time Magazine, March 17, 1961 “The White Elephant”
Among all the crises around the world, only in the remote and rugged northern Laos were Communist and anti-Communist armies lined up for war.
What could serious cold-warriors on either side do with soldiers who set up tiny clay images of Buddha to shoot at, deliberately missed, and then wore the statues as amulets on the theory that the enemy would now miss too? To the minority of Laotians who know about the war at all, it was simply a fight between the princes. For Laos is a country of princes and peasants, where the democratic process has made no more impact than has the Communist cry of revolution.
Souvanna is a man so enigmatic that he persistently refuses to define what he means by his doctrine of "neutrality in neutralism," on the ground that Laotians dislike precision. There is Prince Boun Oum, recognized as Premier by the U.S., but frankly described by one Western diplomat as "a sort of Buddhist Falstaff." One of Boun Oum's supporters called him "the most representative personality of the kingdom"—by which was meant that he is excessively fond of drinking and wenching. And lastly, there is burly, mustached Prince Souphanouvong. the tough boss of the Communist-backed Pathet Lao rebels who have kept all Laos in turmoil for the past seven years. There is nothing enigmatic about Souphanouvong: he wants to take over Laos with Communist backing.
General Phoumi Nosavan, the one Laotian resolved to keep Communists out of the government at all costs, believes that the prince means what he says. Prince Souvanna Phouma doesn't believe him—on the ground that Souphanouvong is his half brother and therefore couldn't possibly be proCommunist.
Presiding over all three is King Savang Vatthana, who towers above most of his subjects at 5 ft. 8 in. Savang Vatthana is recognized by all Laotians and both Russia and the U.S. as the chief of state.
His most striking characteristic politically is a lethargy so profound that it is almost spectacular. Since the crisis began, he has taken two notable steps to safeguard his domain. He has kept close watch over an ancient golden statue of Buddha, on the theory that "as long as the Buddha is in our hands, the country is safe." He has preserved the body of his late father in formaldehyde for the past 17 months in a gilded sandalwood urn at the entrance to the palace in the royal capital of Luangprabang, on the ground that the powerful phis (spirits) that surround the corpse of a king will ward off all invaders.
The kingdom of Laos* is about the size of Great-Britain, but is landlocked, lackadaisical, and so primitive that the currently favored adjective, "underdeveloped," would be an unwarranted compliment. A recent U.S. survey disclosed that 90% of all Laotians think the world is flat—and populated mainly by Laotians.
It is less a single country than an archipelago of small, lush river valleys, cut off from each other by sharp mountains and limestone plateaus where roam the elephant, tiger and gaur.
Laos lies, by historical accident, in the shape of a lean lamb chop among six quarreling neighbors. To the U.S., Laos is primarily something to deny to the Communists, and just about as inconvenient a testing ground as can be found.
The development men find the Laotian people charming, but by Western standards, bone lazy. In other backward lands, it is popular to write this quality off to malnutrition, liver flukes and intestinal parasites, but in Laos (where these afflictions also abound) lethargy extends to the highest rank of princelings, raised on French cuisine. The favorite phrase in Laos is bo pen nyang, a phrase that means anything from "too bad" to "it doesn't matter." Peasants listen with interest when U.S. experts explain scientific agriculture. But when they learn that the aim is to double production rather than to halve the work, they give the new notions a cold shoulder.
But it was not in the indolent Laotian manner to create a unified nation. The Lao stuck to the lush valleys, where the living was easy, and lorded it over the darker, aboriginal inhabitants who are still known in Laos today as Kha (slaves). To the hills came a fierce assortment of immigrants: Black Thai and White Thai, Yao and Meo. Adept with the poisoned dart, the crossbow and the animal pit, the 80-odd hill tribes dislike the valley-dwelling Lao and number about half the country's 2,000,000 population.
Throughout its history, as now, Laos has been buffeted by powerful neighbor states. It has been invaded so many times by the Vietnamese that the present King habitually refers to the threat from the north not as the Communist but as "the Annamese problem." About 1700, Laos split into three kingdoms, run by rival royalty, and it was still split two centuries later when the French, the last and by all odds the gentlest of the conquerors, arrived in 1893, seeking a buffer state against Siam and British Burma. The French looked around and proclaimed Laos living proof of Rousseau's theories about the noble savage.
One French administrator in southern Laos chopped down all bridges into his domain once a year out of fear that the annual inspection might include an inventory of his concubines. According to British Author Norman Lewis, French officers after a tour of duty in Laos are marked forever after by "gentle, rapt expressions" and a "vaguely dissolute manner."
In this land of love and laughter, the French showed little interest in social reforms. In the first 50 years French schools in Laos turned out just 61 high school graduates. But playing an old colonial game, they skimmed off the sons of the monarchy and subsidiary princeling families, sent them off to Paris for a taste of progress and the good life.
Once a year it was his father's royal pleasure to take a leisurely 40-day boat ride down the Mekong to Vientiane, picking and choosing from the new crop of maidens in the villages as he passed. The palace swarmed with royalty who were all half or full brothers and sisters of the future King.
The old King's offspring today hold posts ranging from doormen at the palace to the governorship of Sayaboury province; the governor, a bit of an oddball, recently decreed that every elephant in Sayaboury had to wear a license plate. In total rejection of his father's strenuous love life, the prince married one woman. Princess Khamphouy, a plump cousin, stayed faithful and sired five children. The old King proved totally uninterested in Prince Savang Vatthana's new ideas about agriculture, science and education. "My people only know how to sing and make love," he said.
And after a while, the prince himself became discouraged. "What is the point of sending children to school?" he asked. "We are backward, and whatever we do shall never rise to the level of other peoples. Anyway, an educated population is difficult to govern."
But Prince Souphanouvong, dazzled by his exposure to French socialism, turned left. He moved to Hanoi, married a Vietnamese girl, began consorting with the Viet Minh revolutionists, who were plotting the overthrow of Indo-China's French masters. In 1949, he set off on a 40-day trek through the northern jungles to a rendezvous with the brilliant Viet Minh ex-schoolteacher and field commander, General Vo Nguyen Giap. Over a bottle of warm champagne, which Giap bragged had been "taken from the body of a dead Frenchman," Giap explained how guerrilla warfare worked.
The history of Laos since then has revolved around the fact that the central Laotian government has never been able or energetic enough to defeat Souphanouvong in war. or to deal with him in peace. The princelings who took over in Vientiane, led most often by Prince Souvanna, were not dedicated nationalists or zealous patriots toughened in a struggle for freedom from their colonialist masters—France had simply handed Laos its independence with chaotic haste in the closing days of its Indo-China disaster. By Geneva's rosy terms, the Pathet Lao were supposed to be integrated into a Royal Laotian Army that was to be trained and equipped by the French. But France, defeated and demoralized, had no interest in doing the job. Leaving behind a few advisers and a republic-style constitution, France quit Laos in 1954 as abruptly as she had come 60 years before.
Trouble was that the 29,000-man army, which even the Pentagon thought too large by at least a third, had no interest in fighting, particularly against other Laotians. In fact, Laotians who joined the ranks did not consider it a fighting job but a pleasant civil-service type career whose $130-a-year pay was twice the average Laotian income.
In a one-man mutiny, Captain Kong Le and his battalion of paratroopers seized control of Vientiane in a predawn coup last August. Young (26) Captain Kong Le seemed to be against everybody and everything, acting from no clear motives except fatigue and frustration.
General Phoumi Nosavan, 41, with the influential support of his first cousin. Strongman Sarit Thanarat of neighboring Thailand, defiantly declared himself in rebellion against the new state of affairs. Though the U.S. had recognized the Kong Le-Prince Souvanna government, it soon shifted the bulk of its aid to General Phoumi. The aim, explained the CIA, who called General Phoumi "our boy," was to "polarize" the Communist and anti-Communist factions in Laos. Advancing from his army base at Savannakhet, General Phoumi managed to recapture Vientiane, mostly by means of an artillery duel that killed three civilians for every soldier. Prince Souvanna flew off to exile in Cambodia, blaming his downfall on U.S. "betrayal."
Kong Le retreated north to the Plaine des Jarres. Whatever the fuzzy aims of his revolt, he has now fallen under the thumb of the Communists. His troops, merged with the Pathet Lao, are commanded by Pathet Lao's Colonel Sinkapo and shout Communist slogans. The Plaine is crawling with Russian experts and Viet Minh cadres down to the gun-crew level (but not, so far, any Communist Chinese).
To please Souvanna, any new government will have to be broad-based, which in Laos means including as many important families as possible, as well as some Pathet Lao, at least in minor positions. To avoid argument over whether Souvanna or Boun Oum is the "legitimate" Premier, both sides would deal through King Savang Vatthana. Any solution is likely to be makeshift. Says one U.S. diplomat: "Laos is going to be a problem throughout our lifetime and longer."
Time Magazine, March 17, 1961 “An Offer and a Warning”
This was the U.S.'s offer. But Thompson also had a warning. President Kennedy wanted to make it perfectly clear that the future of Southeast Asia was absolutely vital to the U.S. The U.S. was prepared to tolerate true neutralism, but it would not, under any circumstances, tolerate Communist attempts to subvert, colonize or take over nations such as Laos and other countries in the area. To combat it, the U.S. would take any measures necessary. If Khrushchev, instead of damping down the dangerous fire in Laos, chose to fan the flames, the U.S. reaction would be immediate. For every two guns the Communists sent to the Pathet Lao. the U.S. was prepared by way of "escalation"' to ship three to the pro-Western army of Premier Boun Oum and his strongman, General Phoumi Nosavan.
While the big powers were talking over the heads of the Laotians, General Phoumi. most anti-Communist of Laotian leaders, journeyed to Cambodia last week to see self-exiled Neutralist Prince Souvanna Phouma, who was just back from a visit to northern Laos, where he hailed the pro-Communist rebels as "liberators." Surprisingly, the two old enemies agreed to a three-nation commission of neutrals (Malaya, Burma and Cambodia) to supervise a cease-fire in Laos. In return for Souvanna's assent. General Phoumi. with U.S. encouragement, promised to support Souvanna's policy of "strict neutrality."
Such neutrality might be hard to maintain. And a neutral Laos serving as a buffer state between Communism and the free world is not the tidiest of solutions. But then, few things in Laos are.
Time Magazine, May 31, 1961 “Letter from the Publisher”
TIME readers, at least, should not have been caught by surprise at the headline news about the crisis in Laos. For months past, our reporters have been reporting the futility, the pathos, the menace of the developing news from Laos. Fortnight ago, TIME captioned its cover story on King Savang Vatthana "Laos: Test of U.S. Intentions." And in one of the first cover stories of 1961, TIME, describing the job of Pacific Commander Harry Donald Felt, concluded that "Laos, where events tumbled forward with sweep-second hand relentlessness, was perhaps the least attractive theater in which Felt would want to apply his talents. But as the hour of necessity arises, he is prepared to keep the peace if possible, to win a war if necessary." He still is.
Time Magazine, May 31, 1961 “Laos: Background for Battle”
U.S. military men would as soon use the bow and arrow as fight a war in landlocked Laos. The crooked fingerlike country boasts two roads on dry days, which become a morass of mud during the rainy season, beginning in May. Communications facilities are virtually nonexistent, and jungle trails suffice for railroads. The patchwork of mountains and jungles makes tanks about as useful there as they would be atop Mount Everest; it is guerrilla country, and the shrewd Communist Pathet Lao fighters play it that way.
And yet, if the finger of Laos goes, so too goes the rest of the hand: a complete Communist takeover would endanger Burma, Thailand, Cambodia and South Viet Nam, all of which share Laotian borders.
Time Magazine, May 31, 1961 “The Safety of Us All”
Thus the Kennedy Administration responded to its first grave cold war challenge. Though most of the U.S. thought that Laos was infinitely remote, Kennedy knew that if the Communist invasion was victorious, the other fragile republics of Southeast Asia would tremble like aspens.
Laos had been a prime Kennedy concern since he met with Dwight Eisenhower the day before the inauguration. "Laos is one of the problems I'm leaving you that I'm not happy about," said Ike. "We may have to fight." Days later, the U.S.'s Pacific commander, Admiral Harry Felt, flew in from Pearl Harbor by presidential request. "Mr. President," said Felt, pointing to pock-marked flip maps, "the rebels are spreading just like measles." Supplied by Soviet airdrops averaging 45 tons daily, guided and cadred by the leathery Communist North Vietnamese, the rebels were rapidly escalating upward from a guerrilla band to a well-equipped, highly purposeful army. At the end of the two-hour meeting, Kennedy prepared a course of action, aimed at propping the flagging morale and military strength of the Laotians. But soon it became clear that they were more interested in If the Russians would order a ceasefire, then the West would agree to convene the ineffectual three-nation International Control Commission for Laos —consisting of Canada, India and Communist Poland—to certify the truce. Furthermore, the West was willing to scuttle the present pro-Western Laotian
"If these attacks do not stop," said he in a fireside-chat manner, "those who support a truly neutral Laos will have to consider their response . . . My fellow Americans, Laos is far away from America, but the world is small. Its 2,000,000 people live in a country three times the size of Austria. The security of all Southeast Asia will be endangered if Laos loses its neutral independence. Its own safety runs with the safety of us all, in real neutrality observed by all ... I know that every American will want his country to honor its obligations to the point that freedom and security of the free world and ourselves may be achieved."
Time Magazine, April 07, 1961 “Toward Negotiation”
The U.S. shuddered at the thought of being involved in a prolonged negotiation while the Pathet Lao continued its offensive.
The U.S. had decided to accept a diplomatic retreat, if necessary, rather than get involved in fighting. Said President Kennedy, with understatement: "Negotiations will not be simple and may take some time."
Doubtless the Communist rebels would secure a substantial voice in the future Laotian government, might well be able to win over the country the slower but safer way—without firing a shot. The optimists in the State Department said that all the West really needs to hold is the Southern crest of Laos that buffers Thailand and South Viet Nam from Communism. Pessimists, and there were many, feared that the magnetism of Communism would soon pull over any "neutral" Laos.
Time Magazine, April 07, 1961 “Americans at Work”
Luck ran out for one U.S. embassy C-47 on an observation mission, which ran into a hail of ground fire and crashed. The U.S. gave seven crew members up for dead, the first U.S. casualties of the Laotian war. The only survivor—an Army major—was reported a prisoner of the Communists.
With no cease-fire assured, the U.S. got a guerrilla operation of its own going in Laos. The main recruits: anti-Communist Meo tribesmen, a rugged breed who live only above 3,000 ft., raise opium and Husky-like white dogs. (Standing advice to U.S. pilots: "If you're shot down, find yourself a Meo and hang onto him for dear life. Those little guys will save your hide.") Last week U.S. guerrilla warfare experts, members of a new outfit called the Liaison Training and Advisory Group (LTAG), helicoptered into mountain valleys behind the enemy lines, where Meo tribesmen gathered as many as 400 strong to greet their new weapons and instructors. The Meo's Colonel Vang Phao now runs a mortar and rifle range in the mountains with U.S. help. One Meo guerrilla band ambushed a Pathet Lao column last week, killed 30 and wounded some 60 more.
Complained one military man in Vientiane: "This is war, dammit, but the Laotians are just not willing to risk getting killed. They don't think past tomorrow, and many not even as far ahead as tonight." In the event of a major attack by the Pathet Lao, he added gloomily, "the army will scuttle off like rabbits."
Time Magazine, April 07, 1961 “Man of the Hour”
The man in the middle of the muddle was sleek and equivocal Prince Souvanna Phouma. A man who has made a career of ambiguity, Prince Souvanna may just possibly be the perfect expression of Laos' national Geist. As Premier from 1956 to 1958, Souvanna tried to make a deal with the Pathet Lao, which happens to be headed by his half brother, Red Prince Souphanouvong. Souvanna's view is simple: no Laotian could possibly be a Communist, least of all his brother. When bouncy little Captain Kong Le and his paratroopers staged an exasperated and successful revolt last August against the current pro-Western Laotian government, he installed Souvanna as Premier as the Laotian who most deeply believed that Laotians should not fight each other. Outraged when Souvanna again began dickering with his Communist half brother, another army man, General Phoumi Nosavan, organized a rebellion in his turn. Souvanna begged the Russians for help, then fled into exile at a flower-trimmed estate in Cambodia.
Time Magazine, April 28, 1961 “Richer Prize”
As the Western position in Laos tottered strategists began to look to the next line of defense. They did not have far to look. Down Laos' spiny eastern border runs what is called the Ho Chi Minh trail, which North Viet Nam's ex-guerrilla President used in his fight against the French. Last week there was almost as much activity along the trail as there was in Laos, as the Communists pushed supplies and reinforcements to the jungle fighters who are battling to take over South Viet Nam—a far richer prize than Laos.
With his country in a virtual state of war, President Diem believes that civil liberties are a luxury it cannot afford. A man with a mandarin mentality, he runs South Viet Nam as a kind of family corporation. One brother, Thuc, is the country's leading Roman Catholic bishop. Another, Ngo Dinh Nhu, runs a strong-arm secret society, the Can Lao, that is known as "the invisible government." Diem's pretty sister-in-law, Mme. Nhu, is widely credited with having a major voice in the control of patronage and government contracts. The system is inefficient and corrupt, and Diem himself is as aloof from his people, says one Vietnamese, "as a French governor general." Moans a top civil servant: "Trying to talk to him is like pouring water on a rock—he absorbs nothing." Diem's hated "political re-education camps" hold 30,-ooo prisoners. One result of popular unrest was last November's army mutiny, which saw Diem's best troops slaughtering one another before the presidential palace
Time Magazine, April 28, 1961 “Toward Nirvana”
For the Royal Laotian Army, a ceasefire could come none too soon. “They’ve been observing the cease-fre for some time now, anyway,” said one U.S. observer dourly.
Time Magazine, May 5, 1961 “Collapse”
After a chummy meeting with Nikita Khrushchev in Russia, "Neutralist" Prince Souvanna Phouma seemed to become more Communist-minded with every new Communist bigwig he met, every big reception they organized for him. In Peking, he was met at the airport by Premier Chou En-lai and, together with his half brother and traveling companion, Red Prince Souphanouvong, was flown to the lakeside resort of Hangchow for a personal chat with Mao Tse-tung. Souvanna emerged warmly telling his Red Chinese hosts: "When we again have peace, it is to you we shall turn for aid in building our economy." In a joint communiqué, Souvanna blamed the U.S. for having "supported rebel elements in Laos" and for what he called interfering in his nation's internal affairs. Souvanna has obviously decided which side to be neutral on.
The Eisenhower Administration tried to make primitive Laos "a bulwark against Communism' and failed, in part because of the reluctance of the Royal Laotian Army to fight. The Kennedy Administration announced that it would be satisfied with a neutral Laos, unaligned with either bloc. But in letting its eagerness for a cease-fire show too plainly, the U.S. undermined what little morale the Royal Laotian Army had left, and the Russians seized the chance to stall negotiations while the Pathet Lao strengthened their grip until it has become a strangle hold.
But there was small inclination among the U.S.'s allies to save Laos on the battle field. Britain and France have already written Laos off and want only to cut their losses.
Time Magazine, May 12, 1961 “A Price Too High”
But Western experts, with discouraging unanimity, agree that such a Laos—with a Communist sympathizer at the head of the government, with Communists in posts of governmental power, and with Communist troops already holding half the nation—will quickly go behind the Iron Curtain.
In his inaugural address. President Kennedy had declared that the U.S. would "pay any price" to "assure the survival and success of liberty." But to the Kennedy Administration, the price in Laos seemed too high—and it felt uncertain of the results.
"If Laos goes to the Communists," warned the Bangkok World, "there will be a readjustment of thinking in Southeast Asia, and it won't be to the advantage of the West."
With Laos all but written off, the Administration is confronted with deciding whether or not to take a stand in Communism's next Southeast Asia target: South Viet Nam, already infested with Communist guerrillas and terrorists (see THE WORLD). The geography and politics are more favorable than in Laos: South Viet Nam faces on the sea, and the government of President Ngo Dinh Diem is intensely committed to the task of fighting Communism.
Time Magazine, May 12, 1961 “Falling Back”
Almost visibly, the U.S. was falling back in Southeast Asia. Emerging from top level meetings, U.S. officials talked not of Laos, but of South Viet Nam and Thailand. Obviously, the concern now was to bolster these countries, who will be acutely exposed when Laos is abandoned to a Communist-dominated neutrality.
Time Magazine, May 26, 1961 “Two to One”
The French viewed the whole episode through the bifocals of expiring colonialism...Souvanna promised to eradicate U.S. influence in Laos, but he quietly hinted to the French that they would be welcome.
Time Magazine, June 2, 1961 “Stalemate”
Red China's Foreign Minister, Marshal Chen Yi warned that the agreed goal of Laotian neutrality applied only to "international" matters—Laos could not join military alliances, but within the country, Communist forces should be perfectly free to harass any government or take it over.
Time Magazine, June 30, 1961 “Marred Charm”
At the end of five days of talk, greying Prince Boun Oum, ineffectual Premier of the royal government, sighed wearily: "All I want is tranquillity." Prince Souvanna Phouma, who espouses a doctrine called "neutrality in neutralism" and who is recognized as Premier by the Communists.
The meetings, over fine French wines and pâté de foie gras, were amiable enough. "This should not take too long," Prince Souvanna explained, puffing on a big cigar. "Long conferences have no charm, and charm is one of the ingredients of life, at least among Laotians."
Oum agreed to disown SEATO, which guarantees Laos against outside aggression, and to establish diplomatic relations with Laos' "neighbors," meaning Red China and North Viet Nam. The princes called for new elections and the departure of all foreign troops from Laos. "Details"' were to be worked out at the princes' next meeting—for which no time or place was set. Genial in defeat (he quickly made friends with three blondes in Zurich), Boun Oum might have given away still more points had not the Bolder Grand told the princes that they would have to get out to make room for tourists
Time Magazine, July 7, 1961 “Fighting Tribe”
Whoever finally wins control of Laos will have a prime headache from a band of wiry mountain tribesmen who wear their hair in a tangled bun, love opium and hate law, order and progress. The Meos are the best fighters in Laos, and during the course of the civil war, they have traded in their crossbows and poisoned arrows for shiny new weapons donated by both the Communists and the U.S. "Give one of those little guys a rifle in the morning," says a U.S. military adviser, "and when he comes back that night, he'll be able to kill a man at 200 yards." Referencing the Hmong (Meos)
Unlike the Buddhist Lao, the Meos have no qualms about killing.
Whatever their political sympathies, valley Lao wonder if the Meos, now that they have taken up modern arms, will ever put them down. Said one official: "We feel pity for them, disdain, but also respect. They have too much ability in a simple way, and too much money from their opium. They've chosen to live on the very tops of the mountains, among the clouds."
Time Magazine, August 4, 1961 “The Firing Line” •
In the midst of his speech on the Berlin crisis, President John F. Kennedy took time to remind his listeners that the West faced an equally dangerous Communist challenge 5,000 miles away on the other side of the world—in Southeast Asia, where, said the President, "the borders are less guarded, the enemy harder to find, and the dangers of Communism less apparent to those who have so little."
With the disintegration of the West's position in Laos, most areas along the South Viet Nam border are now held by the Pathet Lao, and the Ho Chi Minh Trail has become an almost open thoroughfare through which Communist reinforcements pour into Diem's beleaguered country. Already the Communists are hard at work enlarging camps and even building airstrips in southern Laos for the rising struggle against South Viet Nam's harassed 150,000-man army.
The Decisions. Faced with this Communist challenge, the U.S. has made a major decision: South Viet Nam must be defended at all costs. While all Asia watched, the U.S., by fumbling unpreparedness and the lack of a dependable local fighting force to attach itself to, last spring abandoned Laos to its fate. South Viet Nam has been U.S.-sponsored from the start; its government is militantly antiCommunist, and its soldiers are willing to fight. If the U.S. cannot or will not save South Viet Nam from the Communist assault, no Asian nation can ever again feel safe in putting its faith in the U.S.—and the fall of all of Southeast Asia would only be a matter of time.
Once the decision was made that the line must be drawn at South Viet Nam, the Kennedy Administration acted vigorously. Vice President Lyndon Johnson was dispatched to Saigon to assure President Ngo Dinh Diem that the U.S., though it had retreated in Laos, could be depended on to help South Viet Nam defend its freedom.
The stakes are high. The collapse of Laos exposed two other nations to the threat of Communists on their borders—Thailand and Cambodia. Both will be closely watching the U.S. performance in South Viet Nam.
Thailand, a land of green canals, gilded pagodas and 20-ft.-high poinsettias, is headquarters for SEATO. A popular dictator, Sarit made his country prosperous, faces no serious domestic discontent, and has kept his few domestic Communists well in hand.
In Cambodia, Neutralist Prince Norodom Sihanouk has turned neat profits by taking aid from both sides in the cold war, including $300 million from the U.S. But he is wary of the threat the Communists pose. "In order to remain on good terms with my Communist friends, we prefer not to have a common frontier with them," he said recently. Since the West's default in Laos, he has become frankly pessimistic. "I am trying to prevent Cambodia from going Communist, but I do not think that the free world can stop the movement of Communism," he said last week. It was part of the U.S. task to demonstrate to Sihanouk that Communism indeed could be stopped.
Bitterly, Ngo Dinh Diem's critics label his system "Diemocracy" — democracy in form but not substance. Diem merely shrugs. The U.S., concerned with his rigid inflexibility atop an insecure nation, also presses for a change in policy. But Diem is a stubborn man, and the U.S. is wary of the charge of "interference in internal affairs."
Curled like a shrimp around the Indo-Chinese Peninsula, South Viet Nam is washed by 900 miles of the South China Sea.
Viet Nam (land of the south) has long been a magnet for conquerors. First came the Chinese, who drove south in the 2nd century B.C. to grab control for a thousand years, labeling the area Annam (pacified south), exacting tributes of pearls, precious stones, elephant tusks and valuable woods for the Emperor. Cleverly, the Annamese took the best China had to offer—the Chinese classics, the ethics of Confucius, and Mahayana Buddhism. But they fought fiercely and persistently to regain their independence.
When the Chinese withdrew in 939, the Annamese turned conquerors in their turn. For nearly a thousand years, the Annamese armies terrorized neighboring Cambodia and Laos. (Laos' King Savang Vatthana still considers the attack on his country as not Communist but rather a renewed threat from the warlike Annamese.)
The war-ravaged land that Diem took over was hardly a nation at all. Two weeks after he was installed as Premier, Viet Nam was carved in half at the Geneva bargaining table by the weary and discouraged French, who agreed to hand over the north, with its coal and iron, to the Communists. That left Diem's amputated south to go it alone.
But the greater worry was the peasantry. After all the years of struggle, Diem had still not won the remote farmers to the government side. Fully one-fourth of all the villages were in the hands of the Communist guerrillas, and often this was more voluntary than forced. The fact was that hundreds of thousands of South Vietnamese, naive and illiterate, thought of the rebels not as Communists but as resistants continuing the nationalist battle first started against the French. To these peasants. "Uncle" Ho Chi Minh is still a hero, and under the influence of Viet Cong propaganda, they have become convinced that the U.S. has simply replaced the French as their overlords. All too often, local officials have been appointed by Diem or his brother because of their personal loyalty rather than their efficiency, and all too often they have taken advantage of their position to extort money from the peasants, throw local merchants into jail, nominally on suspicion of Communist sympathizing, in order to extract ransom. Thus, when the Viet Cong contrive the murder of some local official, the villagers frequently hail them as liberators.
Vietnamese troops are also getting lessons in psychology: do not kill farmers' pigs or rape their daughters; military misconduct has been one of the biggest peasant complaints against the government. To make their point, the instructors unabashedly quote Mao Tse-tung himself on guerrilla tactics: "You are fish in the water, and the water is the people."
Time Magazine, September 1, 1961 “The MAAG Men”
The year-old war in Laos is fought by words and guns, by strange antagonists for curious motives. Many of the Meo people battle the Communist Pathet Lao rebels because the Pathet Lao interfere with their traditional opium trade. Laotian politicians—right, left and neutralist —jabber inconclusively in the hope of forming a coalition government that can unite the country. And in faraway Geneva, Russia, Red China, the U.S. and eleven other nations scrap interminably over a workable arrangement for ending the war. Biggest bone of contention: the withdrawal of foreign troops from Laos, including the 300-man U.S. Military Assistance Advisory Group (MAAG).
MAAG men fight in the sputtering jungle war of Laos to save what is left of $350 million worth of U.S. aid. So far, 24 U.S. military men and civilians have been killed or are missing, and according to the U.S. embassy in Laos, "a considerable number" have been injured.
Time Magazine, December 15, 1961 “The Three Princes”
Laos last week teetered between hope, farce and failure.
In Geneva, the 14-nation conference on Laos (which includes Red China and the U.S.) reached surprising agreement on 1) withdrawing all "foreign forces" from Laos; 2) the guaranteeing of the withdrawal by Great Britain and the Soviet Union; and 3) the granting of more authority to the International Control Commission (Poland, Canada, India) in investigating violations of neutrality. The major catch: the agreement cannot go into effect until Laos gets a new government, and attempts to form one were mired in petty haggling and intrigue. Geneva Agreement...
King Savang Vatthana had designated three princes to form a coalition: Communist Prince Souphanouvong, "Neutralist" Prince Souvanna Phouma, and pro-Western Prince Boun Oum.
Phoumi argues that the Geneva accord is a trap to get U.S. troops out of Laos, while the Red cadres from North Viet Nam will simply melt into the countryside, later return to the attack. The U.S. is in the difficult position of trying to back both a neutralist course for Laos and General Phoumi, who in turn would undoubtedly get a more respectful hearing for his uncompromising stand if in a year of fighting, his U.S.-equipped army had not been badly whipped by the much smaller Russian-equipped Pathet Lao. A U.S. official gave his version of General Walter Bedell Smith's diplomatic axiom: "You don't win at the conference table what you've lost on the battlefield."
Time Magazine, January 5, 1962 “Ping, Pong & Pang”
When the U.S., Russia and Red China agreed in Geneva last month to accept a "neutral" Laos, Washington appeared to have written off the embattled country. The argument: the terrain in Laos is too difficult, the Laotian army too weak for a firm stand against Communism. The real line against the Red guerrillas would be drawn in South Viet Nam. Meanwhile, the best thing to hope for was to keep a neutral Laos cordoned off from Red China or Russia as long as possible. To this end, the famous "three princes" were to form a new, neutral government. But the meeting settled nothing, and more than ever the Three Princes recalled, in their operatic futility, the Three Ministers in Puccini's Turandot —Ping, Pong and Pang.
"Outrageous," a source close to the U.S. embassy called the anti-Red prince's action. Ambassador Winthrop Brown was dumfounded, since he had believed Boun Oum was won over to a coalition government. All observers agreed that though the voice was the voice of Boun Oum, the script had been written by tough, anti-Communist General Phoumi Nosavan, the present Defense Minister, who insists that any government headed by Souvanna will swiftly slide into Communism. The U.S. hesitates backing General Phoumi because there is no assurance that his army can win if it comes to fighting and a considerable chance that it might ignominiously lose—as it did last year. But in Laos even the bitterest of enemies are friends. Next night General Phoumi genially invited both Prince Souvanna Phouma and Red Prince Souphanouvong to a "working dinner" at his freshly painted blue and white residence.
Time Magazine, March 2, 1962 “The Men in Green Berets”
The U.S. last week repeated its pledges to stand by its friends in Southeast Asia. At his press conference, President Kennedy denied a rumor that the U.S. is considering "disengagement" from Laos, said that the U.S. is continuing to work for "a neutral and independent Laos"—which, although it is almost a contradiction in terms, is about the best the West can hope for. Even while inferentially criticizing it, Kennedy made clear that the U.S. is still solidly backing the government of South Viet Nam's President Diem. Said he: "We're prepared to offer every assistance we can in making that government a more effective instrument for the people."
Time Magazine, May 4, 1962 “Shaky U.S. Policy”
While U.S. attention was focused on South Viet Nam, the danger in neighboring Laos increased.
Risky Gamble. Just a year ago, when the U.S. finally persuaded the Soviets to accept a cease-fire in Laos, Washington gambled heavily on a long-shot bet: better to rely on Russian guarantees of a neutral Laos than go on fighting a war that could not be won. The Red Pathet Lao forces, aided by Communist North Vietnamese, controlled half of Laos, and the Royal Laotian Army seemed unable to prevent the Reds from overrunning the country (which so far has received $450 million in U.S. aid). The U.S. decided to abandon Phoumi's anti-Communist regime, which appeared doomed, and planned to replace it with a neutralist government. But Phoumi strenuously opposed the idea; a neutralist coalition, he feared, would soon fall to all-out Red control—and rob him of his own power.
In the jungle surrounding the Pathet Lao stronghold on the Plaine des Jarres, Meo guerrillas also successfully harass the enemy. Even the regular army occasionally shows up well: last month 100 outnumbered government troops fought their way to a village under attack by the Pathet Lao, turned defeat into a victory.
But most of the time, green government soldiers turn and run. Last week the royal regime announced the fall of two more army outposts near the northwest provincial capital of Nam Tha.
Time Magazine, May 18, 1962 “Satisfied Visitor”
Though things were falling apart in Laos, U.S. Defense Secretary Robert Mc Namara, clad in suntans and heavy-soled combat boots, took a firsthand look at the Vietnamese war and came away with guarded optimism.
Time Magazine, June 8, 1962 “Laos: 4 Phases to Nonexistence”
THE hesitation waltz went on last week in Laos. Neutralist Prince Souvanna Phouma flew in from Paris, but threatened that unless he got the neutralist coalition government he wanted by June 15, he would fly back to France—probably for good. Red Prince Souphanouvong remained in the Communist-held north, issuing occasional bulletins to the effect that he would be delighted to join Souvanna's coalition. But the other vital ingredients—pro-Western Prince Boun Oum and right-wing General Phoumi Nosavan—were missing. Continuing their junketing round of Southeast Asian nations in search of money and sympathy, the two arrived at Manila, where they got plenty of sympathy. Neutralism, declared President Diosdado Macapagal, "is the gateway to Communism." He found it incomprehensible, he said, that the U.S. in Laos was giving support to neutralists like Souvanna Phouma and withholding aid from staunch anti-Communists like his guests.
Though it has a king, a government and an army and can be found on a map, Laos does not really exist. Many of its estimated 2,000,000 people would be astonished to be called Laotians, since they know themselves to be Meo or Black Thai or Khalom tribesmen. It is a land without a railroad, a single paved highway or a newspaper. Its chief cash crop is opium.
Laos was dreamed up by French Diplomat Jean Chauvel, who in 1946 was France's Secretary-General of Foreign Affairs. At the time, France was trying to reassert its authority in Indo-China, whose rebellious inhabitants had no desire to return to their prewar status as colonial subjects. In place of original Indo-China, consisting of various kingdoms and principalities, Paris put together three new autonomous states within the French Union: Viet Nam, Cambodia and Laos. Drawing lines on a map, Chauvel created Laos by merging the rival kingdoms of Luangprabang, whose monarch became King of Laos, with Champassak, whose pretender was consoled by being made permanent Inspector General of the new state.
Phase Two: Move to the Right. This surge of Communist power alarmed the Eisenhower Administration, then engaged in trying to help President Ngo Dinh Diem of neighboring South Viet Nam preserve a pro-Western government against Red aggression. Secretary of State John Foster Dulles had tried to seal off Southeast Asia by building the SEATO pact and encouraging anti-Communist allies. The U.S. Ambassador to Laos, J. Graham Parsons, distrusted Premier Souvanna Phouma both as a neutralist and a compromiser with the Reds. Withholding U.S. economic aid was enough to cause Souvanna's downfall, and he was replaced by a pro-Western Premier. A U.S. military in mission was invited to Laos, and hard-working CIA men soon discovered in right-wing General Phoumi Nosavan a dedicated anti-Communist who displayed more signs of organizing ability and drive than most Laotians.
Phoumi Nosavan set up a militant, conservative party, and Red Prince Souphanouvong was jailed for treason. Iri the rigged national elections of 1960, Phoumi's group gained a sweeping majority. On the surface, a relatively tough U.S. policy of containing Communism seemed to be an overwhelming success.
Phase Two: Move to the Right. This surge of Communist power alarmed the Eisenhower Administration, then engaged in trying to help President Ngo Dinh Diem of neighboring South Viet Nam preserve a pro-Western government against Red aggression. Secretary of State John Foster Dulles had tried to seal off Southeast Asia by building the SEATO pact and encouraging anti-Communist allies. The U.S. Ambassador to Laos, J. Graham Parsons, distrusted Premier Souvanna Phouma both as a neutralist and a compromiser with the Reds. Withholding U.S. economic aid was enough to cause Souvanna's downfall, and he was replaced by a pro-Western Premier. A U.S. military in mission was invited to Laos, and hard-working CIA men soon discovered in right-wing General Phoumi Nosavan a dedicated anti-Communist who displayed more signs of organizing ability and drive than most Laotians.
Phoumi Nosavan set up a militant, conservative party, and Red Prince Souphanouvong was jailed for treason. Iri the rigged national elections of 1960, Phoumi's group gained a sweeping majority. On the surface, a relatively tough U.S. policy of containing Communism seemed to be an overwhelming success.
Time Magazine, June 29, 1962 “At the King’s Knee”
After more than a year of evasion, dispute and disagreement, the kingdom of Laos last week finally had its new coalition government.
The Cabinet ministers involved raced through the investiture ceremonies like men on roller skates. Prince Souvanna Phouma, his halfbrother, Red Prince Souphanouvong, and the outgoing Premier, Prince Boun Oum, drove to the royal palace in Vientiane. Brought before recluse King Savang Vatthana, all three princes—including the Communist, Souphanouvong—bowed low, reverently touched the King's knee, and formally announced their success in creating a government.
Time Magazine, August 3, 1962 “Dialogue at Geneva”
Keen-eared Western diplomats in Geneva last week thought they detected the faintest softening in Peking's tone. Perhaps it was just a lullaby over the Laos settlement, or maybe the Reds were too hungry at home to take on external adventures. At any rate, in his closing speech to the negotiators of the Laos accord, Peking's Foreign Minister, Marshal Chen Yi, 61, sounded almost benign. After some standard bluster, the tough veteran of the civil war said: "We have, after all, broken a link in the chain of tension in Southeast Asia, and we should enlarge this breakthrough." Chen even found a reasonably hopeful and almost scrutable Old Chinese Proverb for the occasion: "The strength of a horse is tested by the distance of the journey, and the heart of a man is seen with the passage of time."
Time Magazine, August 3, 1962 “A Kind of Peace”
At a White House lunch, Souvanna and President Kennedy exchanged buttered toasts.
Said the President: "Our concern for the future of Laos is very real, because it involves really the future of the United States." The wearisome, 14-month negotiations leading up to last week's Geneva agreements seemed straightforward compared with the problem of making the agreements work. First and most immediate problem facing the coalition government is to effectively implement the cease-fire agreement. A Laotian cease-fire committee has met for three weeks without reaching a formula for disarming about 100,000 troops and integrating the three rival armies into a single national force.
The vetoes and vagueness built into every paragraph of the agreement ensure that neither the I.C.C. nor the government can take effective action if any of the rival factions breaks faith.
Time Magazine, March 8, 1963 “Around the World with Savang Vatthana”
Royally rumpled in mufti, His Majesty Savang Vatthana of Laos arrived in Washington last week. This was the second stop on a tour of 13 of the nations signatory to the Geneva pact last year that guaranteed the "neutrality" of Savang's lethargic little kingdom.
Time Magazine, April 19, 1963 “Beckoning the Undertaker”
"The clouds are still hanging in the air and the weather looks bad," said a diplomat in Vientiane last week. His gloomy forecast was prompted not by the upcoming rainy season, but by the festering Communist-induced political crisis that is slowly turning-"neutral" Laos into a Red satellite.
The treacherous Red attacks completed the political transformation of Kong Le, who once was the darling of Moscow and Peking. Two and a half years ago, Kong Le had joined forces with the Pathet Lao on the Plaine des Jarres and with them demanded the withdrawal of all the Western troops in Laos. But consistently neutralist, Kong Le today is as bitterly opposed to Viet Minh intervention in Laos as he had been to the presence of U.S. military advisers last October. Fortnight ago he raged that the Viet Minh were "foreign lackeys" who hoped to make Laos their base to spread their evil policies throughout
The most that optimistic U.S. officials could hope for in Laos was a continued stalemate; realists felt, however, that an eventual Communist takeover was only a matter of time. "Asking what you can do sensibly about Laos is like asking a patient close to death to come in every two months to see what his doctor can do for him," said one ranking U.S. insider. "After a while, there is nothing you can do but call the undertaker."
Time Magazine, April 26, 1963 “A New Civil War?”
Just nine months after the 14-nation Geneva Conference guaranteed Laotian neutrality, Laos last week tottered on the brink of civil war and once again threatened to drag the major powers into a bitter struggle.
Fleeing Neutralists. The week began with a desperate flight to the plain by Neutralist Premier Souvanna Phouma, who hoped it still might be possible to arrange a cease-fire between the Communist Pathet Lao and Neutralist Army Chief Kong Le. Things seemed cheery enough as the opposing leaders embraced and their troops exchanged cigarettes. But. as one neutralist put it, "we exchange cigarettes during the day and bullets at night." All too true. Hardly had Souvanna departed when the truce abruptly collapsed.
Kong Le's retreat caused consternation in Vientiane. With his left-right-center coalition fast coming unstuck, Premier Souvanna Phouma was fearful that Kong Le's troops would join forces with a right-wing army just southwest of the Plaine des Jarres and launch a joint counterattack against the Reds that would surely precipitate civil war. Desperately he appealed to Britain and Russia, overseers of the Geneva agreement, for quick intervention to stop the Pathet Lao's flagrant violations of the ceasefire.
Time Magazine, May 3, 1963 “A Losing Proposition”
There were those in the U.S. who thought the only long-range answer to the Laos problem was outright partition. Already a de facto partition of Laos existed: the northern part of the country was firmly controlled by the Communists, and the rice-rich Mekong River valley was in the hands of the rightists.
It was not the ideal solution for Laos. But, as one U.S. official said: "There are no good solutions in Laos. There never will be. Laos has always been a losing proposition."
Time Magazine, May 3, 1963 “The Great Deflation”
The apocalyptic vision of a thermonuclear war that would annihilate mankind has, in fact, slowly receded, giving way to the idea, voiced by Winston Churchill back in 1950, that the frightfulness of nuclear weapons makes total war improbable. Peace "through mutual terror."
Recent years have also seen a drastic deterioration of Communism's image: it no longer seems anywhere near as powerful, cunning and successful as it did in the late 19505.
The West overestimated the power of Communism from the very start of the cold war.
Under Harry Truman, foreign policy could be largely summed up in the single word "containment" (but in practice it did not quite manage to contain). Under Dwight Eisenhower, the word "liberation" was often used to label policy (but liberation was never really put into practice). A single word will no longer suffice, even as a slogan.
The Kennedy Administration's foreign policy is less ambitious than liberation, more positive than containment.
SOUTHEAST ASIA. Although the President stressed that a Communist takeover in Laos would threaten South Viet Nam and Thailand, the U.S. is not committed by either treaty or promise to military intervention in Laos. In South Viet Nam, in contrast, the U.S. is deeply committed, and U.S. military missions are helping the Vietnamese in their struggle against Communist Viet Cong guerrillas. "We have no plans of rolling back the Viet Cong," says a State Department official. "We do, however, intend to prevent the Communists from taking over the country."
Time Magazine, July 5, 1963 “Evil Spirits on the Plain”
"At first, the Communists were very good to us and gave us supplies," says the little general. "But now I know the Pathet Lao are not fighting for Laos but for Communism. We do not want Laos to be controlled by anyone, not the Communists or the Americans.
Time Magazine, May 29, 1964 “Springtime on the Plain”
The first U.S. reaction was odd and somewhat embarrassing: Washington asked Britain and France, which maintain diplomatic relations with Peking, to try to persuade Red China to halt the Communist attacks in Laos. It was a clear indication that it is Red China, and no longer the Soviet Union, which controls Red moves in the area, but predictably the U.S. plea got nowhere.
There were certainly plenty of invitations to talk. France proposed another international conference to guarantee the neutrality of Laos. The U.S. rejected the suggestion because, as Dean Rusk pointed out, guarantees for Laotian neutrality already exist—they simply need to be kept. More important, the U.S. is sure that such a conference would quickly branch out from Laos to a proposal for neutrality throughout all of Indo-China, notably including Viet Nam. The French consider this the only solution, since they have decided that the U.S. cannot win the Vietnamese war. Quite a few Americans are beginning to agree. Washington no longer objects to neutrality in Southeast Asia (or elsewhere) on principle, but believes that it cannot work. With Red China looming over the horizon, an attempt to neutralize the area regardless of international guarantees might simply turn the entire region into one big Laos. As government propaganda in Saigon posters puts it: "Red Plan—First Neutralize, Then Communize."
Time Magazine, May 29, 1964 “Unpleasant Options”
Similarly, United Nations Ambassador Adlai Stevenson, summoned home from a trip to Europe, warned the Security Council that the U.S. would remain in South Viet Nam as long as North Viet Nam, "with comradely assistance from the regime in Peking," continues to wage war there.
One alternative, already suggested by such people as France's Charles de Gaulle, is to neutralize all of Southeast Asia. But U.S. officials would have to do an awful lot of rethinking before they bought that one, for Laos is proof positive of just how badly neutralization can flop. Another possibility is to expand the war to North Viet Nam with bombing raids and guerrilla attacks. That, too, has its pitfalls, for the upshot could be massive Red Chinese intervention, and another Korea. Still a third option is to keep muddling, as the U.S. has been doing. But that policy has so far failed, and there is no prospect that it will suddenly start paying off.
Time Magazine, June 19, 1964 “Escalation in the Air” [First bombing in Laos!]
The U.S. last week became involved in a minor but significant air war with the Communists in Laos.
When the Red Pathet Lao overran Laos' embattled Plain of Jars last month, the U.S. replied by sending unarmed jets swooping low over Pathet Lao territory. The purpose was partly to photograph troop movements, partly to demonstrate U.S. resolve to stand firm in the Red-threatened little kingdom. But last week, after Communist gunners shot down two American planes in two days, the U.S. decided that shooting back with cameras was not enough—and in a small way Southeast Asia's crisis began to "escalate."
In Washington, the Administration decided on a little more escalation. From a base in the Philippines, eight F-100 U.S. Air Force jet fighter-bombers took off, headed over the northern sector of South Viet Nam, then veered up the Laotian corridor. Their mission: to deliver a punitive punch to the harassing antiaircraft guns.
Power Demonstration. The attackers' arrival around breakfast time, shortly after sunrise, must have come as a distinct surprise to the Communist gunners. Instead of taking evasive action, as the reconnaissance craft had always done, these jets bore down, dropped rockets and bombs, then whisked away. Behind, they left a Communist antiaircraft emplacement demolished in smoking ruins.
Time Magazine, June 26, 1964 “The Awakening”
Behind Kong Le loomed an elaborate, half-hidden U.S. operation designed to maintain the fiction of Laotian neutrality and keep both Kong Le and Premier Souvanna Phouma's government from falling completely to the Communists.
The aviary of official Washington was, as usual, divided between "hawks" and "doves." Foremost among the hawks was Defense Secretary Robert McNamara, who urged strong retaliatory action. Leaning heavily on the advice of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, McNamara pointed out that in a normal combat situation the reconnaissance targets would have been clobbered by fighter strikes before the recon planes were sent out. But since the "Mickey Mouse game" of diplomacy had to be satisfied, such sound military tactics had been precluded, and two planes lost. Now, said McNamara, was the time to hit those targets.
Not that the U.S. particularly wants to be in Laos, any more than it wants to be in the rest of what used to be Indo-China. But the vacuum left by the French collapse a decade ago forced the U.S. to assume responsibility for the area. Laos is less important strategically than its Vietnamese neighbor; the country could fall to the Communists without necessarily making the situation in South Viet Nam much worse, while the fall of South Viet Nam inevitably would also mean the fall of Laos. But if the U.S. could deny the implausible little kingdom to the Communists, it would have important effects in the area. It would not only demonstrate firmness against Chinese expansion, but it would also make some important points about neutralism, a concept so often and so loosely offered as a solution in Southeast Asia.
The 1954 Indo-China armistice had handed the Pathet Lao two sections of the country—Sam-nueua and Phongsaly—bordering Communist China and North Viet Nam.
One of Kong Le's big difficulties is the help the Pathet Lao gets from the Viet Minh, who have an almost legendary reputation in Laos. Neutralist and rightist battalions have been known to flee the field at the mere hint of Viet Minh troops in the vicinity. The Pathet Lao take advantage of this by broadcasting orders in Vietnamese over their radios.
Time Magazine, November 27, 1964 “Recon & Retaliation”
As quietly as their bellowing engines will permit, U.S. Navy and Air Force jets have been flying reconnaissance missions over Laos since last May. Their purpose is twofold: to keep an eye on the Communist Pathet Lao, who have been relatively passive lately, and to see who or what is filtering down from North Viet Nam along the Ho Chi Minh Trail through Laos and into South Viet Nam. Last week, three days apart, two U.S. jets were knocked down by Communist guns near the murkily marked "panhandle" where North Viet Nam forms a narrow corridor between Laos and the sea. One pilot died, while the second was rescued by helicopter, and a typical Laotian muddle ensued.
Time Magazine, January 13, 1967 “A Fragile Web”
Since the Geneva accords of 1962 established its tripartite "neutrality," the landlocked, Lilliputian kingdom of Laos has teetered continually on the cliff-edge of chaos. Torn between the demands of the rightist Royal Laotian Army and the intransigent Communist Pathet Lao, which controls nearly half of the country, Neutralist Prince Souvanna Phouma maintains a facade of government simply because he is the only Premier acceptable to both the West and the Communist powers.
Sparsely populated Laos (2,500,000 people) has little of value to fight over. But it is strategically situated at the axis of six other nations with which it shares common borders: Red China, Burma, Thailand, Cambodia, and North and South Viet Nam. Through the eastern half of Laos, controlled by the Pathet Lao, stretches the Ho Chi Minh trail, over which the North Vietnamese regularly infiltrate South Viet Nam. More than 75,000 North Vietnamese troops are now on Laotian soil, between 20,000 and 30,000 of them combat troops and the rest antiaircraft units, engineers and construction workers. North Vietnamese troops operating in South Viet Nam frequently use Laos as a refuge to escape from attack, and some of them mix with the Pathet Lao during periodic attacks on the Royal Laotian Army.
Time Magazine, May 19, 1967 “The Special War”
The Ho Chi Minh trail, a 200-mile "logistical wonder" according to U.S. officials, is a massive maze of roads, bridges, waterways and paths complete with primitive motels. In recent months its roads have been paved with crushed stone or topped with pressed laterite. Camouflages of bamboo and branch roof it over where the jungle canopy is balding. Bridges are often built 6 inches under water so that they will be difficult to spot from the air. Where traffic is heaviest, the North Vietnamese have even set up antiaircraft batteries. In what the Communists call "the special war.”
Euphemism and secrecy are required in the special war in Laos because Laos itself is a special situation. Neutralized by the Geneva Accords of 1962, to which Russia and the U.S. agreed, Laos is a tripartite nation—part royalist, part neutralist, part Communist—that by treaty is off limits to all foreign troops. But when the North Vietnamese moved in, the U.S., at the request of Prince Souvanna Phouma, provided aid and advisers in civilian clothes to the royalist-neutralist coalition fighting the Pathet Lao. American planes now daily airlift food and arms into remote areas of Laos loyal to the central government of Vientiane. The U.S. equipped the Royal Laotian Air Force, and U.S. pilots sometimes fly the planes with the tri-headed Elephant Lao markings.
The seldom reported war in Laos ebbs and flows with the seasons. In dry weather, the Communist Pathet Lao and their North Vietnamese allies go on the offensive. During the monsoon rains, the more mobile Royal Laotian Army is trucked or helicoptered into battle and usually regains what has been previously lost.
Last week, for the first time in five years, government forces were in control of part of the broad Plain of Jars, so called because of the many funereal jars on the area's tombs. Preceding the offensive was an intensive rain of bombs from Thai-based U.S. planes, which have turned the whole region into a "free-fire zone," where anything that moves is considered fair game. One of the few non-Communist casualties reported was that of an American CIA agent who was presumably acting as an adviser. Under the terms of the 1962 Geneva treaty, the presence of any armed man in Laos, except for the Laotians, is illegal.
The intensified fighting seemed to provoke more concern in Washington than in Vientiane. At the urging of Kentucky's Senator John Sherman Cooper, the Senate adopted by an 86-to-0 vote a vague amendment barring the use of certain defense funds for U.S. combat support of local forces in Laos or Thailand. The object, said Cooper, was to prevent the nation "from moving step by step into war in Laos or Thailand, as it did in Viet Nam." The Pentagon said that the amendment would have no practical effect; the U.S. has available other funds sufficient to maintain military forces in both countries. What the Senate critics seemed to overlook, besides, was that the U.S. is involved elsewhere in Southeast Asia because of its position in Viet Nam. With Washington making every effort to extricate itself from Viet Nam, the U.S. is not very likely to make a heavy commitment of ground troops in Laos or Thailand.
Time Magazine, January 5, 1968 “Rumblings on the Periphery”
As long as, the Communists can move supplies more or less freely through Laos and Cambodia and retreat there to lick their wounds, the U.S. will find it difficult to drive them from the field completely. Nor will the "McNamara Wall" now being built along the DMZ be effective if the Communists can end-run around it in Laos.
Time Magazine, January 26, 1968 “Spillover into Laos” •
The neutralization and partition of the kingdom of Laos stipulated by the Geneva Accords of 1962 has served Hanoi's war against South Viet Nam admirably. Down the Ho Chi Minh Trail through the Communist-controlled portion of Laos have flowed the men and supplies enabling North Viet Nam to keep the war going, and Laotian rice has helped keep Ho's warriors fed. The U.S. regularly bombs the Trail to slow the flow. But unlike Hanoi, Washington has been unwilling to violate the ban on foreign troops in Laos and strike directly overland to interdict the enemy traffic southward.
Since Oct. 15, Red trucks have been streaming southward in bumper-to-bumper convoys. The Trail has been expanded in many stretches into a two-lane highway that is artfully camouflaged and heavily defended by dug-in and mobile antiaircraft batteries. So serious is the increase in traffic that the U.S. is now bombing more in Laos than in North Viet Nam.
In December the U.S. flew 6,722 combat sorties over Laos, hitting fuel dumps, traffic and gun emplacements along the Trail, v. only 5,692 over North Viet Nam. Even so, roughly 80% of the trucks get through.
Time Magazine, March 22, 1968 “Hanoi’s Second Front”
Though South Viet Nam commands the headlines, it is not the only country that the North Vietnamese have invaded in force. Neighboring Laos shares that unhappy distinction, despite the fact that, under the Geneva accords of 1962, no foreign forces are permitted in the neutralist Elephant Kingdom of 3,000,000 people. From the very beginning, Hanoi broke that agreement by routing the main part of the Ho Chi Minh Trail through Laos. Now the North is stepping up its attacks on the Royal Lao government itself, hitting with force up and down the length of the narrow nation.
The North Vietnamese may also be moving the Ho Chi Minh Trail westward and protecting its flanks against possible allied ground interdiction from South Viet Nam. And Giap might use a major attack in Laos as a diversion to accompany a second round of countrywide assaults in South Viet Nam. Whatever his reasons, he now has some 40,000 North Vietnamese positioned throughout Laos, along with 30,000 indigenous Pathet Lao comrades in arms.
U.S. trained Lao serve as ground spotters along the Ho Chi Minh Trail, directing air strikes against infiltrators headed for South Viet Nam. During the past two months, American planes have dropped almost as many bombs over Laos as over North Viet Nam.
Time Magazine, October 17, 1969 “The Unseen Presence”
The seldom reported war in Laos ebbs and flows with the seasons. In dry weather, the Communist Pathet Lao and their North Vietnamese allies go on the offensive. During the monsoon rains, the more mobile Royal Laotian Army is trucked or helicoptered into battle and usually regains what has been previously lost.
Last week, for the first time in five years, government forces were in control of part of the broad Plain of Jars, so called because of the many funereal jars on the area's tombs. Preceding the offensive was an intensive rain of bombs from Thai-based U.S. planes, which have turned the whole region into a "free-fire zone," where anything that moves is considered fair game. One of the few non-Communist casualties reported was that of an American CIA agent who was presumably acting as an adviser. Under the terms of the 1962 Geneva treaty, the presence of any armed man in Laos, except for the Laotians, is illegal.
The intensified fighting seemed to provoke more concern in Washington than in Vientiane. At the urging of Kentucky's Senator John Sherman Cooper, the Senate adopted by an 86-to-0 vote a vague amendment barring the use of certain defense funds for U.S. combat support of local forces in Laos or Thailand. The object, said Cooper, was to prevent the nation "from moving step by step into war in Laos or Thailand, as it did in Viet Nam." The Pentagon said that the amendment would have no practical effect; the U.S. has available other funds sufficient to maintain military forces in both countries. What the Senate critics seemed to overlook, besides, was that the U.S. is involved elsewhere in Southeast Asia because of its position in Viet Nam. With Washington making every effort to extricate itself from Viet Nam, the U.S. is not very likely to make a heavy commitment of ground troops in Laos or Thailand.
It sometimes seems as if the U.S. Government would like to make the very existence of Laos classified information. [Secret War] Thus, when the country's Premier, Prince Souvanna Phouma, flew into Washington last week, the White House said as little as possible about his meeting with President Nixon. The U.S. these days is anxious to get out of Southeast Asia, not to get in deeper. Reflecting that mood, Senator Stuart Symington next week will begin hearings on the American involvement in Laos.
The depth of the U.S. involvement in Laos is not immediately apparent in the seedy, down-at-the-heels capital of Vientiane. There is none of the neon nightmare that Americans have brought to Bangkok, and the town does not creak under the weight of the U.S. military as does Saigon. One sees few Americans, and none in uniforms. In a few bars one may find the freewheeling, CIA-paid Air America pilots, the Lord Jims of Laos. But the main accent is French. The old ochre-colored colonial buildings with their big windows and high ceilings set the architectural style. Citron pressé outsells Coca-Cola, and hamburgers hardly exist. The pace is as slow-moving as the ceiling fans, and Vientiane exudes a decadent charm that is extinct where Americans have made a more obvious invasion.
The Americans justify their involvement in Laos on the ground that the North Vietnamese were there first. It is largely clandestine because, like the North Vietnamese presence, it violates the 1962 Geneva accords, which supposedly neutralized Laos. The military-aid program, for example, is not run by the military-assistance group (MAG) but by USAID through a euphemistically titled "requirements office."
Towns Flattened. The U.S. officially admits only to flying "armed reconnaissance" missions over Laos (i.e., firing only when fired upon). But in fact, besides bombing the Ho Chi Minh trail, Thai-based American planes provide considerable tactical air support for the Royal Laotian Army, flattening whole towns in the Communist Pathet Lao zone. In the last eleven months the bombing of Laos has increased fivefold. "We've creamed that place," allowed a U.S. Air Force pilot recently, "some places even worse than Viet Nam." Said one woman who escaped from Muong Phine, a town recently captured by government forces: "We were afraid of the airplanes that came all the time. We learned to stand still in the fields when the planes came because if we ran the planes would shoot."
The U.S. has obvious reasons for not admitting the extent to which American air power plays a role in Laos. "If we did," said an American official in Vientiane, "every dove in the U.S. would hit us over the head with it like they did with Johnson and the bombing of North Viet Nam. The North Vietnamese don't admit the presence of their 47,000 troops. Why should we give them the advantage of admitting the bombing?"
Time Magazine, March 9, 1970 “Laos: Deeper into the Other War”
RELENTLESSLY, almost at will, Communist North Vietnamese and Pathet Lao troops advanced last week against Laotian government forces.
Few observers in the sleepy little government capital of Vientiane had expected the Plain, which has changed hands repeatedly for years, to be held in the face of a determined Communist attack. There was good reason for their pessimism. Hanoi has 50,000 troops in Laos, some 16,000 around the Plain, and the Pathet Lao have another 50,000: the government, by contrast, has a total of 63,000 regulars and another 10,000 Meo guerrillas under General Vang Pao. What alarmed U.S. officials was the possibility that this time the Communist forces might not be satisfied with the usual gains. In the past, the war has had a special, almost ritualistic quality, with Communist and government forces swapping occupancy of the Plain of Jars and refraining from probing deeper into territory generally conceded to the foe. Now, however, there is concern that the Communists might change the nature of the war by changing the old seesaw pattern. They could do so by moving west and cutting the road link between Vientiane and the royal capital of Luangprabang, or by driving south against a pair of other targets.
These were Sam Thong, headquarters for the U.S. aid operation in northern Laos, and Long Cheng, a top-secret, CIA-supported base for guerrilla operations against the Communists. Sam Thong, which serves as a center for refugee assistance as well as standard aid programs, has occasionally been opened to newsmen. Long Cheng, however, remained sealed until last week, when TIME Stringer Timothy Allman, a LIFE correspondent, and a French reporter paid an unauthorized visit.
What worries U.S. politicians most was the growing scope and secrecy of the American involvement in Laos. It was the Administration's secrecy on Laos that rankled the critics and stirred disturbing memories of the steady, clandestine buildup of the U.S. presence in South Viet Nam.Compared with the U.S. presence in Viet Nam today, the Laos effort is minuscule.
Time Magazine, March 16, 1970 “Laos: Detailing the Commitment”
GROUND TROOPS. "There are no American ground combat troops in Laos. We have no plans for introducing ground combat forces." If the White House develops such plans, Congress would be asked to approve the move.
AIR SUPPORT: Though B-52s have been bombing the Ho Chi Minh Trail in eastern Laos for four years, there has been only one B-52 raid over the Plain of Jars, intended primarily to warn the Communists against carrying their latest offensive too far.
U.S. CASUALTIES: According to the President, "No American stationed in Laos has ever been killed in ground combat operations." But over the past six years, more than 400 American airmen, most of them stationed outside Laos, have been lost over the little country; roughly 200 are known to be dead, and the balance are listed as missing or captured.
U.S. REINFORCEMENTS: There has been no increase in American personnel over the past year, the statement said. Today there are 616 Americans directly employed in Laos by the U.S. Government and another 424 U.S. contract employees.
An uneasy balance had been maintained from July 1962 until last fall, when Laotian government troops surprised themselves and most observers by pushing the North Vietnamese and their Pathet Lao allies off the strategic Plain of Jars. Last month the Communists struck back, and what worries many U.S. officials is that they might go on to attack hitherto sacrosanct Laotian government positions south and west of the Plain.
Time Magazine, March 16, 1970 “Anatomy of a Limited War”
THE U.S. and North Viet Nam are involved in Laos for precisely the same reason: both countries feel that their presence is necessary to prosecute the war in Viet Nam. Neither side will admit publicly the full extent of its involvement because both are acting in violation of the 1962 Geneva accords, which attempted to impose a neutralist settlement on this divided country.
Time Magazine, March 30, 1970 “Danger & Opportunity in Indochina”
For the first time since the Geneva accords of 1962 brought an equivocal peace to Laos, Communist troops moved south in force from the Plain of Jars. They seized one key base that had been held by the Laotians with U.S. support and menaced another that serves as the center of CIA operations in the country. The onslaught made it clear that the North Vietnamese could overrun all of Laos at will.
The common denominator in the current turmoil is the North Vietnamese infantryman, and his presence in sizable numbers in supposedly neutral lands. Hanoi's forces long ago took on the burden of the Laos campaign from the ineffectual, home-grown Pathet Lao. Neither the frangible Laotian regulars nor the lightly armed, CIA-backed Meo guerrillas of Laotian General Vang Pao have been able to withstand them.
Whatever may happen in Laos, the U.S. is extremely unlikely to use ground troops—as Senator Fulbright informed the world last week by releasing secret testimony by Secretary of State William Rogers. Rogers said that the Nixon Administration had "no present plans" to send G.I.s to Laos even if Communist troops threatened to overrun it
Time Magazine, March 30, 1970 “The Royal Jugglers of SEA”
“I want to make Laos the Switzerland of Southeast Asia.” —Prince Souvanna Phouma, 1956
Souvanna Phouma, 68, a nephew of Laos' longtime (1904-1959) King Sisavang Vong, lacks Sihanouk's brash style Nonetheless, he performs with skill. A cultivated, retiring figure who looks and acts like a country gentleman, Souvanna has four times taken on the unenviable job of leading a government that is split between the Communist left, Neutralist middle and Royalist right.
Souvanna is mediating a family quarrel as well as a corner of the East-West war. The Pathet Lao have long been under the command of his half brother Prince Souphanouvong, 57. While Souphanouvong was labeled the Red Prince, Souvanna was sometimes called the Pink Prince, presumably because of his willingness to cooperate with the Pathet Lao.
Time Magazine, March 30, 1970 “Cockpit of Conflict”
Laos, the Land of the Million Elephants and the White Parasol, managed to conquer the northern reaches of the Khmer Empire in the 14th century. That accomplishment led to Laos' one brief period of expansion. Before long, however, both Laos and the Khmers were caught in the deadly vise of war between Siam (now Thailand) and Annam (now Viet Nam). The enmities between Indochina's present-day neighbors stem in no small part from these wars, which reduced Laos to a tiny mountain kingdom.
France landed its first military expedition in Viet Nam in 1858, ostensibly to protect missionaries who were being put to death by the Vietnamese Emperor for teaching Christianity. Soon the French objective was to colonize rather than Christianize, and by 1883 Paris had established a "protectorate" in Cambodia and occupied all of Viet Nam; in 1899, it placed a résident supérieur in Vientiane. Economically, the French were unabashed parasites. As one report of the time put it: "Colonial production must be limited to supplying the mother country with raw materials."
Politically, the French were not so much oppressive as inept. Administrators often knew next to nothing about the land and people in their charge, and few were in office long enough to learn; between 1892 and 1930, Paris dispatched 23 governors-general to Hanoi. Outside the major cities of Viet Nam, French secondary schools were almost nonexistent; by 1939, Phnom-Penh's only school beyond the primary level had graduated a grand total of four students.
Resistance groups flourished almost from the start. Ho Chi Minh, who was to wage the most protracted and successful struggle against the French, was forced to leave school in 1910 for anti-French opinions. The Japanese occupation of Indochina during World War II swept away the myth that the white man was indestructible. Before long, that dramatic discovery led to a place and turning point called Dienbienphu.
Time Magazine, November 8, 1970 “Toward Talks?”
Out in the countryside, the picture is entirely different. Communist Pathet Lao and North Vietnamese troops hold roughly two-thirds of the country, including the Plain of Jars just 40 miles north of the capital and the Ho Chi Minh Trail in the south. Some 270,000 people —out of Laos' total population of 2,500,-000—are jammed into chaotic refugee camps.
The last time the country's contending factions formally got together was in 1962, when the Geneva accords placed Laos in the hands of a clumsy, three-headed regime composed of rightists, neutralists and leftists. That arrangement soon broke down, and since then the three factions have struggled with almost ritualistic regularity, advancing and retreating like choreographed troops in a lethal ballet.
Time Magazine, February 8, 1971 “Indochina: Blunting a Buildup”
As the week wore on, the Administration insistently telegraphed its comparable concern about the situation in another Indo-chinese country, Laos. There were reports of a disturbing buildup by the Communists and of saturation bombing raids by the U.S. Secretary of State William Rogers noted that with the advent of the dry season, Communist activity was up sharply along the Ho Chi Minh Trail and in new staging areas in the jungles flanking the trail. With U.S. troops scheduled to turn over principal "combat responsibilities" to South Viet Nam's forces by midsummer, Rogers warned: "There is a very critical period about to ensue."
At week's end there was every indication that the U.S. and its allies were mounting an extraordinary response. Attacks on the Ho Chi Minh Trail where it snakes down the narrow panhandle of southern Laos were stepped up to 400 or more sorties a day. B-52s hammered a Communist buildup zone near Khe Sanh, just south of the Demilitarized Zone.
Either way it went, an all-out effort to seal forever the infiltration route named for Ho Chi Minh would have tremendous implications. If successful, Hanoi would lose not only face, but also its one remaining pipeline to the south. Should ARVN troops and U.S. airpower fail, Hanoi's prestige would be enhanced, and the political repercussions might force fundamental changes in Saigon and Washington.
Time Magazine, Feb. 15, 1971 “Indochina: A Cavalryman’s Way Out”
At present, Indochina's three main combat areas are in mixed condition: LAOS. As the struggle over the Ho Chi Minh Trail heated up, so did the "forgotten war" in Laos, where some 65,000 Royal Lao troops and Meo tribesmen have fought a seesaw seasonal struggle for almost a quarter of a century. Traditionally, the non-Communist forces have gained ground during the monsoons, when the Pathet Lao and North Vietnamese regulars in Laos are unable to move supplies. With the arrival of the current dry season, it was the Communists' turn to advance, as usual.
There were several reasons for the vigorous Communist advance. On one level, it was a punitive jab at Souvanna Phouma. The Premier is anxious to end the Laotian fighting, which has forced an incredible number of refugees into U.S.-run camps: 700,000, or 30% of the population. But hard-liners on the right threaten real trouble if Souvanna should open serious peace talks with the Pathet Lao or if he should suffer another major defeat. "If Long Cheng or the Bolovens Plateau falls," said one Laotian general, "Souvanna is finished." The Communist advance was also a signal to Abrams that if the U.S. menaced the Ho Chi Minh Trail, the Pathet Lao and the North Vietnamese would take over most of the rest of Laos.
Time Magazine, Feb. 22, 1971 “Rough Time for the Choppers”
By official estimates, 12 helicopters had been lost in the Laos operation by week's end. Because the Army counts only craft that are totally destroyed as "losses," however, the actual number of those shot down was almost certainly higher. Along the lower part of the thickly fortified Ho Chi Minh Trail, 51-cal. and 37-mm. antiaircraft guns sprayed out a murderous shield of defensive fire. "They've got stuff out there, man, we don't even know what it is," said one pilot returning from Laos to Khe Sanh. "I had things flying past me looked big as basketballs." At least one chopper company received enemy hits on every one of its craft during a single day.
Copter pilots, usually men aged 25 and younger, take 32 weeks of flight training, arriving in Viet Nam with at least 210 hours of flying time. Often they fly "pigs-and-rice" or "ash-and-trash" missions—supplying outposts, moving men, carrying mail. "But you do fly six hours a day, rarely over 3,000 feet, and over very wild country," says an Army colonel who did two hitches as a pilot in Viet Nam. "Everything is a challenge."
Time Magazine, March 1, 1971 “Indochina: Nixon’s Strategy of Withdrawal”
Stand not upon the order of your going, but go at once. —Macbeth
MANY Americans anxious to see the U.S. disengage from Indochina have urged on President Nixon what might be called the Shakespearean solution to the war. To them, the invasion of Cambodia last spring and the current incursion into Laos seem only to be widening the theater of fighting—an odd order of going indeed. Last week, at an informal press conference, the President reiterated that he intends to go on reducing the U.S. role in the war through progressive troop withdrawals. But Nixon left a wide margin for maneuvering to carry out that intention.
Senator Edward Kennedy last week decried Vietnamization as a "policy of violence" that has led to "war and more war."
The White House, focusing on American rather than Asian casualties, replies that monthly U.S. losses in the war are one-fifth of what they were when Nixon took office, that the U.S. troop level is down by nearly 215,000 men from its early 1969 peak of 543,000, and that the level should be around 50,000 by the end of next year. U.S. military commanders plan to send ARVN troops back into Laos and Cambodia as often as necessary to keep South Viet Nam secure. The South Vietnamese might not be so enthusiastic about the idea, however, if they were handed an embarrassing defeat on the battlefield. At week's end, with the Communist resistance in Laos growing in ferocity, the possibility of such a defeat could not be ruled out.
Time Magazine, March 1, 1971 “Cautious Crawl Though Laos” HCMT!
The troops took us from a helicopter to a trail about five feet wide. It had all been cleared from the jungle by hand; there was no bulldozer work. In clear areas, a trellis of bamboo branches had been carefully woven together and planted with live foliage so that you could not see the path from above. Every so often, just on the edge of the road, there was a checkpoint bunker that could hold two or three people. Farther apart, there were lots of depots slightly off the main trail. They were numbered—we saw Nos. 16 through 19 on our walk—and were indicated on the path by crosses carved into the bark of a tree and painted red.
The depots were about 10 ft. by 15 ft. in area and dug perhaps 6½ ft. into the ground, like bunkers. The tops were made of logs, with camouflage over them. They were full of ammunition, rice, medical supplies and gasoline. Rubber pipes connected a pump in each depot to a nearby river, so that drivers could get water for themselves and their trucks. Signs instructed visitors to PLEASE PARK THE TRUCK, HAVE YOUR MEAL, YOUR DRINKS AND PLEASE SIGN IN AND OUT. Another sign read: THE ROAD IS HARD, BUT WE WILL MAKE IT
Time Magazine, March 15, 1971 “Showdown in Laos”
What about the talk of severing the Ho Chi Minh Trail? "To really cut the trail," said a U.S. officer, "you would have to have ARVN stretched from one Laotian border to the other with their arms linked."
The Saigon daily Xay Dung protested that as far as ARVN was concerned, the U.S. was guilty of "flying a kite and then cutting its string."
Time Magazine, March 22, 1971 “Killing is Our Business & Business is Good”
For the moment, at least, the obvious tactical virtues displayed by helicopters in Laos have helped to silence debate not only in Congress but also among some longtime chopper critics. In No Exit from Vietnam. British Counter in- surgency Expert Sir Robert Thompson charged that helicopters had "exaggerated the two great weaknesses of the American character—impatience and aggressiveness." Thompson fretted that the U.S.'s problems in Indochina were rooted partly in a "fatal fascination" with technology. The chopper, he said, was responsible for "the one-star generals who regard their tour of duty in Vietnam as an opportunity to indulge in a year's big-game hunting from their helicopter howdahs at government expense."
Time Magazine, March 29, 1971 “Laos: The Bloody Battle To Get Out”
JUST five weeks after they plunged confidently into the jungles of Laos, the best troops of South Viet Nam were engaged last week in a perilous and bloody battle to get out. Whether Operation Lam Son 719, as the Laotian invasion is officially called, could be judged a success or a setback was still a matter of considerable debate (see box next page). Beyond debate, however, was the fact that some units of the South Vietnamese army (ARVN) had been badly cut up in the fighting, and that North Viet Nam seemed ready and willing to sacrifice casualties by the thousands in order to deal the South a physical and psychological mauling.
That the ARVN withdrawal was not yet a rout was due very largely to U.S. airpower. Day after day, B-52s, F-4 Phantoms and F-100s, flying as many strike sorties for the Lam Son operation alone as they ordinarily stage in all of Indochina, kept the battlefield under incessant barrage. Giant B-52s, used like Phantom jets for close ground support, pursued North Vietnamese soldiers through jungle and elephant grass, dropping their 30,000-lb. bomb loads as close as 600 yards to allied positions.
Time Magazine, April 5, 1971 “What It Means for Vietnamization”
Laos was ARVN's first major test without American advisers and against seasoned North Vietnamese regulars. But was it a "milestone" for Vietnamization, as President Nixon described it, or a sharp setback?
The real weaknesses Lam Son revealed were at the top. The Saigon strategists figured that air power would give the small but mobile ARVN invasion force an edge, even when outnumbered 3 to 1; too often it did not.
Time Magazine, April 5, 1971 “The Invasion Ends”
The crisply uniformed U.S. Army lieutenant colonel was briefing a group of foreign military attaches in Saigon. "As of today no ARVN elements remain in Laos," he began. "Enemy forces are now chasing them toward the border—wait, I don't mean to use that word. They are following them to the border."
And even though the Lam Son offensive ended more in a hasty retreat than a disorderly rout, last week's banner headlines declaring COMPLETE VICTORY were in Hanoi's newspapers, not Saigon's.
Time Magazine, April 5, 1971 “Battle Fatigue”
The San Francisco Chronicle's resident humorist, Arthur Hoppe, was in a rare, melancholy mood. In his column, Hoppe wrote: "The radio this morning said the Allied invasion of Laos had bogged down. Without thinking, I nodded and said, 'Good.' And having said it, I realized the bitter truth: Now I root against my own country. That is how far we have come in this hated and endless war."
Time Magazine, Dec. 18, 1972 “A Soldier’s Life”
Laos was supposedly neutralized by the 1962 Geneva accords, but it is actually overrun by an antipasto of Asian troops. U.S.-supported mercenaries from Thailand and opium-growing Meo tribesmen from the northern hills help out the Royal Laotian Army. China has something like 20,000 troops in the country; they build roads while keeping a jealous eye on the North Vietnamese. Since 1952 Hanoi has had troops in Laos, which it used to describe as "deserters" and "volunteers." Now that it has the biggest single army in the country—65,000 troops—it does not acknowledge them at all.
Time Magazine, Dec. 18, 1972 “ In Hanoi’s Dark Shadow”
Path to Peace. Of all Indochina's savaged battlegrounds, dream-like Laos should have the easiest path to peace. Unlike Viet Nam, the country is not riven by irreconcilable rivalry between northerners and southerners, between Catholics, Buddhists and Communists or even—in a country with the acreage of Britain and the population of Brooklyn—between the landed and the landless. "If we could speak as one Laotian to another," Interior Minister Pheng Phongsavan told TIME's Peter Simms in Vientiane last week, "we could solve our problems without any great difficulty." That has not been possible, Phongsavan complains, because "the Pathet Lao are always looking over their shoulders to get their instructions from Hanoi."
I read the following article in the Vientiane Times last spring that I think accurately portrays the state of education in Laos. What this article highlights is the serious problem that exists in all of rural Laos, not just Xieng Khuang, of parents either taking their students out of school to help them on their farms or taking care of brothers or sisters, or students just dropping out on their own for a variety of reasons. It can be, as is brought out in this article, lack of supplies, it could be lack of transportation (students often have to walk/ride bikes up to ten miles one way to get to a school), It could be a lack of teachers, of a decent school, etc. 
