Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Mrozek, Donald J

The US Air Force after Vietnam: postwar challenges and potential for responses / by Donald J .

Mrozek.

p. cm.

Bibliography: p.

Includes Index.

1 . United States-Military policy . 2. Vietnamese Conflict, 1961-1975-Public opinion. 3. Public opinionUnited States . 4. United States. Air Force. l. Title . II . Title: United States Air Force after Vietnam.

UA23.M76 1988 88-7476

355' .0335'73-dc 19 CIP

ISBN 1-58566-024-8

First Printing December 1988

Second Printing July 2001

DISCLAIMER

This publication was produced in the Department of Defense school environment in the interest

of academic freedom and the advancement of national defense-related concepts. The views

expressed in this publication are those of the authors and do not reflect the official policy or position

of the Department of Defenseor the United States government.

This publication has been reveiwed by security and policy review authorities and is cleared for

public release .

For Sale by the Superintendent of Documents

US Government Printing Office

Washington DC 20402

ii
7~
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 
Chapter Page

DISCLAIMER. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii

FOREWORD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

ABOUT THE AUTHOR. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix

PREFACE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii

1 Introduction: The Scope of the Study . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

2 Vietnam in History. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

The Continuing Relevance of the Vietnam Era . . . . . 7

The Emergence of History and Advocacy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10

Vantage Points and Visions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15

Principles or Preferences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18

Historical Reflections and a Grasp at the Future . . 22

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30

3 Interpreting Vietnam: School Solutions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

Learning at Leavenworth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

Spreading the Word . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

Training and Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

4 Post-Vietnam Events and Public Discourse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

National Security Issues and the Post-Vietnam

Press. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54

Leaders and Their Memories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58

Vietnam in Public Memory. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62

v
Thought and Feelings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66

5 The Congress and National Security after Vietnam:

Business as Usual? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

The Cold War Consensus and the Issue of

"Normalcy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

Surveying Congressional Views, 1984 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71

Common Ground . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73

The Distinctiveness of Proadministration

Viewpoints . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81

Sources of Skepticism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86

Congress and the Military : Politics, Threat, and

"Normalcy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90

6 Alternative Visions: The World beyond Vietnam . . . . . . . . . 95

Other Wars, Other Analogies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95

a Beyond Crisis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . 98

Beyond Deterrence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104

Masters of Our Fate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

APPENDIX A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115

APPENDIX B. . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119

INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

Vi
In this study, Dr Donald J. Mrozek probes various groups of Americans

as they come to grips with the consequences of the Vietnam War. He poses

far more questions than he answers, and, some of what he says may invite

strong dissent . Yet it will serve its author's purpose if something here provokes creative thinking and critical reexamination, even of some long-cherished ideas. Viewing the Vietnam War as a logical outcome of American

defense thinking has challenging implications, as does seeing the "cold war

consensus" on foreign affairs as an oddity.

Yet this is not a litany of objection and protest . For example, Doctor

Mrozek raises serious questions about how the contemporary notion of

deterrence has emerged; and dealing with such questions forthrightly could

make deterrence more effective . So, too, questioning the past relationship

ofmilitary professionals with the mass media is not an assignment of guilt

but an invitation to develop a beneficial and cooperative relationship . Nor

is this study a tale of gloom and despair ; it is rather an appeal for selfconsciousness and self-awareness . It is a plea for us to take command of

the problems that beset us by taking control of ourselves first .

vii
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 
ABOUT THE

AUTHOR

Donald J. Mrozek is professor of history at Kansas State University,

where he has taught since 1972. He earned both his MA and PhD degrees at

Rutgers University, and his dissertation study on defense policy during the

presidency of Harry Truman yielded articles in publications such as Military

Affairs and the Business History Review. Later research in wartime and

postwar defense issues resulted in articles in such journals as Annals ofIowa

and Missouri Historical Review. In 1980 his article "The Croatan Incident :

The US Navy and the Problem of Racial Discrimination after World WarII"

appeared in Military Affairs. Also in 1980 he coedited The Martin Marauder

and the Franklin Allens : A Wartime Love Story with Robin Higham and

Jeanne Louise Allen Newell . With his colleague Robin Higham, he coedited

A Guide to the Sources of US Military History, including the 1981 and 1986

supplementary volumes.

Doctor Mrozek has also researched, published, and taught in the area of

American culture. Some of his publications have fused the areas of military

and cultural history. His essasy "The Cult and Ritual of Toughness in Cold

War America" appeared in Rituals and Ceremonies in Popular Culture, ed.

Ray Browne, in 1980. In 1984 "The Interplay of Metaphor and Practice in

the US Defense Department's Use of Sport" was published in the Journal

ofAmerican Culture. In 1985 "Sport and the American Military : Diversion

ix
p,pp

in the January-February 1985 issue of Air University Review. In 1986 Air

University Review also published his essay "In Search of the Unicorn," a

discussion of the broad development of military reform movements since

the Federalist era. Having completed recent studies focused on the era of

the Vietnam War, Doctor Mrozek plans a book-length essay on US defense

policy after World War II .

x
The Vietnam War stands uneasily on the edge of public memory-slipping into the past and becoming part of our national history, yet still too

recent to be forgotten by those who lived through its trials . But history

seeks a meaning in its clouded events, a retrospective order and pattern

that could instruct, and sometimes even inspire, successive generations . At

present, then, Americans face the peculiar dilemma of having to respond

to the impact of a war for which there is still no comprehensively shared

vision .

One cannot expect broad enthusiasm for a vision of the past whose

primary purpose is to justify current policies, acquisitions, deployment,

and research. I am reminded here of the adage that, "to be an honest

politician, one must first fool oneself before fooling the public." There is

much truth in this thought, and it probably applies to many, including

historians, defense analysts, and businessmen. The most persuasive visions

ofthe past are the distillations ofexperience and answers to questions asked

in an effort to handle the problems of the present .

The challenge before any society is to maximize the balance between

sincerity and accuracy. We need to listen to ourselves-all of us-to our

individual thoughts and words, to public statements and pronouncements

of policy, and to the less sharply articulated sound of public sentiment .

When we hear generalizations about the Vietnam War, we obviously need

to ask whether the remarks are valid and ask for the questions behind the

questions. In that way, we may isolate the common assumptions which lie

behind seemingly conflicting views; and logical analysis may identify the

direction in which the myth of Vietnam is moving.

Even though this is only an intermediate step, its effects can be significant. For example, many commentators on the war have described it as

heavy on technological ingenuity and weak in human imagination-surely ,

too sweeping a claim, given the remarkable versatility that many men and

women showed throughout the war. Yet the common notion that technology

received too much emphasis has created a broadly shared interest in reform

which is focused on how well we use the weapons we have. What happened

to Americans in Vietnam has fostered an inquisitive disposition that was

distinctly lacking during the era of "cold war consensus ."

Similarly, even though disagreement about who should bear the greatest

responsibility for the war's outcome remains keen, it is a widely held understanding that things did not turn out well for the United States, did not

show its government in good form, and put inordinate strains on its social

xi
gq

Americans have thought ofthemselves as individualistic and unruly people-a flattering self-image, though in some ways a false one. Indeed, during

the Vietnam War, it was the patience and long-suffering of the American

people that most deserved comment. This was not the first war to face

great protest and challenge from Americans. Opposition to a massive commitment that, was killing young Americans, as well as many Southeast

Asians, should hardly have seemed surprising. What should have caused

real surprise was how long it took for opposition to coalesce. In the end,

the Vietnam experience ought to remind us of how well Americans can

rally to a cause, even when it is poorly conceived and executed.

But these are not the lessons of Vietnam. They are only illustrations of

how we may come to different understandings of the Vietnam experience.

The central lesson is that even when we cannot control the circumstances

around us, we can still control ourselves . The use of military and political

resources to have our way is not only a practical and technical issue, it is

also a philosophical and moral one. It may be worth asking if we have ever

won a war by betraying our own traditions and values.

Painful as it was, the Vietnam War was a reminder of the diversity of

motivations and interests in the world, as well as the heterogeneity ofpower.

We learned anew that even the very greatest of power centers on earth can

never truly monopolize governance of this complex and diverse world. Yet,

we need not see the Vietnam experience and its consequences as signs of

rot in the framework of national power. They may, in fact, signify only the

self-destructiveness and operational inappropriateness of a dualistic cold

war mentality whose time has surely passed. What emerges in its place is,

as always, entirely un to us.

xii
Many ofthose who were most important in the development ofthis study

will remain unnamed here. Various officers, across the spectrum of rank,

contributed to, shaping my thoughts on where the Air Force and the military

more generally may be heading-or, at least, into what sort of an environment their responsibilities may take them. Yet, because many remain on

active service, I am reluctant to enlist either their support or the authority

of their experience and expertise on behalf of my arguments. I would be

especially loath to do so on matters-including some here-that remain

sensitive and occasionally controversial . Nonetheless, my gratitude to them

is genuine. And so is my respect . As individuals, the officers who helped

me during the course of this study showed a willingness to consider alternative viewpoints, to make real efforts toward interservice cooperation,

and to entertain some thoughts that were, by the doctrinal precepts oftheir

own services, "unthinkable." What happens when a diverse body of wellintentioned individuals interoperate in institutions and bureaucracies is,

of course, a more complex matter .

The practical preparation of this manuscript was facilitated by the editorial assistance and advice of Preston Bryant and Hugh Richardson ofthe

Air University Press in the Air University Center for Aerospace Doctrine,

Research, and Education (AUCADRE) at Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama. Supervising the physical production of the study was Dorothy

McCluskie. The Document Processing Center at AUCADRE, under the

direction of Marcia Williams, provided excellent and prompt support; the

bulk of the typing and reprocessing was handled by Annie Dinkins, Lula

Barnes, and Elaine Dillon. To all who worked so hard and so well to make

this work as good as it could be, I owe a real debt; and I appreciate their

efforts.

My greatest professional gratitude, however, goes to AUCADRE for providing me the time, support, and encouragement to pursue the concerns

which appear in this study. While no question was raised simply for the

sake of skepticism, no question was ducked simply for the sake of institutional convenience. No researcher could ask for a more equitable guideline from which to work.

I have chosen to dedicate this study to my nephew, Joseph W. Mrozek

III, and to my niece, Dianne Leigh Mrozek. May their world and their

future be safer and more humane than ours sometimes seems. May it also

be as exciting and as rich with promise.

XIZZ
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 
INTRODUCTION: THE SCOPE OF THE STUDY

We see things not as they are but as we are .

"Sensation"

High Museum of Art

This study examines several areas of concern facing the United States

Air Force, and the other services in varying degrees, in the years after

Vietnam. These concerns are traditional, familiar, and constant when stated

abstractly-such matters as doctrine, force structure or "force mix," and

professional military education. But this study seeks to find if, how, and

to what extent some of these traditional interests may have taken on distinctive features inviting special treatment when considered concretelyin the aftermath of the US involvement in Vietnam. In one sense, the study

is not intended as an evaluation of the impact of the US experience in

Vietnam in isolation from other influences. In another sense, however, the

Vietnam experience affected the US military so deeply and so broadly that

it lurks behind most of what has been thought and done in military and

security affairs since then, even when civilian or military officials specifically disavow a connection. Vietnam is so much a part of the foundation

on which present behavior is premised that it forms part of the context of

influence as a matter of fact, even when it is not accepted in this role as

a matter of consciousness . To speak, then, of "the Air Force after Vietnam"

inevitably entails some assessment of the service's reaction to its experience

in the war-good or bad. To speak of the service's "response to its challenges" during the past decade similarly establishes an interplay between

the impact of the Vietnam experience and the conscious focus on present

difficulties and future contingencies .

To discuss the influence of Vietnam on present behavior requires some

stabilization of what the term Vietnam encompasses . In the decade since

the US withdrawal from South Vietnam and the subsequent collapse ofthe

Saigon regime, the term Vietnam has become one of the most fluid, comprehensive, elusive, and enigmatic in US military and political history.

Meanings and lessons are hard to tease out of the complexities of the war,

largely because lessons and meanings depend on what we seek and how we

choose to evaluate rather than on anything intrinsic to events in Southeast

1
simply because they dislike using the word, it remains difficult even to

identify pertinent goals toward which operations in Vietnam could have

been devoted and against which they could have been credibly evaluated.

To the extent that goals and means thus become reciprocal and equal, action

loses its sense of direction-and later analysis of that action becomes incurably ambiguous. The ambiguity of Vietnam is, indeed, its primary and

dominant feature . It is a war that was not quite a war by customary US

standards. It showed Americans at their best and at their worst, although

which Americans fall into which category is itself a matter of opinion. It

divided Americans as few wars before it, yet it united and recombined

various clusters and groups of Americans who had previously held apart

from each other. It was made up ofa string of US victories, but the victories

lacked tangible rewards. Moral victories could produce more tangible results, but those accrued more typically to the other side. Given the contingency of the values with which we might evaluate the war, and given

the complexity of the war on its own terms, it is doubtful that any "true

and comprehensive picture" of Vietnam will ever develop-at least none

with clear lines, sharp contrasts, and all the nuances of hue and shading.

If it remains complex and ambiguous, Vietnam may influence Americans

in much the way the American Civil War continues to affect them. That

something may be learned and gained from it is possible, even though there

will never be any perfect resolution of the conflict in values that inspired

the war in the first place. Although it is a war of which one cannot expect

to say, "When all is said and done," we reach a point where enough is said

so that we look for the residue beyond the continuing flow of words. In

the end, perhaps the phrase most pertinent will not be "the horror of

Vietnam" but "the horror of uncertainty ."

The foregoing remarks do not outline the meaning of the word Vietnam

in a precise way. But they may underscore, at least, that Vietnam is more

than a place, more than a war, more than a lesson. Rather, it is a vortex

of numerous competing concerns, a double-edged memory that prunes our

ambitions yet feeds them with our emotions. And it was the instrument of

destruction with which Americans savaged their own vision of a bipolar

world conflict. The "challenge of Vietnam," by extension, has become the

task of meeting usual, though serious, obligations while still being affected

by assumptions rooted in a quite different vision of the world situation .

On the other hand, there are significant issues that originate in conditions

not primarily driven by the Vietnam experience. Matters of doctrine and

force structure, for example, are rooted in the historical development of

the military services themselves and in the evolution ofa mechanism aimed

at coordinating their efforts. Notwithstanding their deep grounding in his

torical experience, which far exceeds American contact with South Viet2
Any experience fraught with difficulty can make people wish simply to

forget about it, but ignoring an experience without resolving its implications

and extended impact is dangerous . If the issues raised by the manner and

outcome of US involvement in Vietnam were to remain unsettled, the

memory of Vietnam would be like a nasty neighborhood dog repeatedly

nipping at one's heels. Lasting peace and common sense argue in favor of

noticing that the dog is there because, even though what some would see

as an unsettling "dog" of a war has only limited force of its own, it could

make one do foolish things . The unpopularity not only of Vietnam itself

but of giving it serious postmortem attention may stem largely from its

obvious beginning; and all participants seek to escape allegations of parentage while seeing visible signs that their own roles in that nasty war

became perverse parodies of the truth.

In some measure, the avoidance of Vietnam and its dismissal as having

no valid implications and lessons for the military and the nation after the

mid-1970s may owe much to the war's nastiness, complexity, and its outcome. Casual conversation among military professionals in the years after

the fall of Saigon included such comments as this of Saigon included such

comments as this synthesis drawn from numerous specific cases: "That war

was such a screwed-up mess that I'm not even going to talk about it-or

think about it-anymore." Such "forgetting" may also have its utilitarian

aspects ; "remembering," for example, might lead to a fundamental reexamination of missions and tactics or to strengthening a case for large adjustments in force structure . For the Air Force, however, the more relevant

source of disinterest in Vietnam may have to do with its own rather distinctive relationship to history . Some observers of Air Force officers, comparing them with those in the other services, have pointed to their

particularly strong technological bent. Edward Marks, for example, a foreign service officer who had met members of all the services while he was

a student at the National War College, said that "the Air Force types were

quick and clever but tended to be narrow and obsessed with gadgetry. . .

.

"'

From a slightly different vantage, an observer could see this same characteristic as a diminished sense of history. Although all armed forces necessarily care about technology in the contemporary world, the Air Force

owes its very origin to a special combination oftechnological developments

at a time when the future was deemed unusually more relevant than the

past. Of course, the airmen did not even have a past to draw on. To be

sure, long cultural development does not explain behavior decades later,

especially not in some mechanistic way, but nuances of disposition still

help to set one's agenda except when external pressure of a commanding

sort dictates it .

3
where we are understandably interested in future possibilities that may

affect security. But perhaps we have cultivated a greater sense of fundamental novelty than is justifiable ; a measure of skepticism might be useful .

Perhaps we should think that the future will be just like the past-only

more so. After all, revolutionary transformations have been very few. Incremental change is more common and more likely; and major changes,

when they do,come, are usually associated with a transformation in our

disposition to accept change. Even Vietnam, despite its enormous impact

on the United States, stands as an incremental extension of America's

thinking about war.

But there is another side to the coin, and it is related to the avoidance

of Vietnam that some sought to maintain. Vietnam has at times been used

as a whipping boy to explain difficulties whose causes may have been much

more varied. In turn, some specific parties, such as Congress, have become

special targets . The very ambiguity and complexity of Vietnam have permitted a considerable measure of "finger pointing"-attributing failure in

our broadest objectives to the manifest shortcomings of others. This study,

given its relative brevity and its attempt to touch on a wide range of interconnected issues, cannot provide an exhaustive treatment of the "Vietnam syndrome." It seeks only to give a rough map of varied assessments,

perhaps enabling us to appreciate how an apparently disciplined forward

movement can turn into a dangerous and even fatal false step.

The point here is not to assert that a particular interpretation of Vietnam

and the Vietnam syndrome ought to become the basis on which policies

are enunciated. Instead, the point is that Vietnam is an "open metaphor"-

available to virtually any user in almost any context. Vietnam proves nothing in particular and can be used for virtually everything. Vietnam is a

piano; the sound that it produces is up to the composer and the player.

Whether celebration or dirge, triumph or tragedy-it is all up to the user.

Notes

1 . Edward Marks, "Letter from Fort McNair," Foreign Service Journal 60, no . 2 (February

1983): 30 .

4
VIETNAM IN HISTORY

Every war-and every peace-soon becomes a part of written, spoken,

changing history. Vietnam is no exception. Any single work about a major

undertaking is, of course, a fixed object; yet the ideas contained within it

may be flexible and pliable, triggering new thoughts and inviting reinterpretation of the original event. Even more complex and rich with potential

meanings is the event itself; despite its having been a discrete "something"

at its occurrence, it takes on extraordinary versatility when subjected to

imaginative human reexamination . Nor is this play of the original event

against the interests of later investigators an impeachment of the latters'

motives or methods, for there is an abiding truth to Carl Becker's suggestion

several decades ago that "every man is his own historian ."' Each brings

special concerns and questions; and the richness of the actual event itself

unfolds only in pieces or parts, teased out in response to what has been

asked.

This flexibility of events and their interpretation is not a result of insufficient information, premature appraisal, or other shortcomings. It lies

in the inherent diversity ofevents and ofthe people who make themhappen.

Similarly, these characteristics do not necessarily apply more heavily to the

recent past than to much earlier experience. For example, it is hardly scarcity of attention or weakness of scholarship that accounts for continuing

discussion of the meaning and impact of the American Civil War. Instead,

periodic shifts of concern within contemporary society open new angles of

vision toward battles long past and toward their consequences. 2 Often heroic in tone, the writing devoted to the Civil War,soon after its conclusion

served something much greater than a romantic appetite; it marked a struggle between proponents of a highly professional and well-trained armed

force relatively larger than had been traditional in the United States on

the one hand and advocates of the militia spirit on the other. Who had

perfdrmed more valiantly in the late war-regulars or volunteers drawn

from the state manpower pools? The issue had unmistakable political connotations. 3 In matters of social policy as well as military theory and organization, the evolving literature on the Civil War was substantially

conditioned by interests contemporary with the writers, even though they

dealt with events of a steadily receding past. The questioning of the con

stitutional legitimacy of the war itself suggested a perceptible shift of re5
when the South was beginning its reassertion of political power on the

national as well as regional scene (which was soon exemplified by the election of Virginia-born Woodrow Wilson to the presidency), the romantic

reexamination of the Civil War past was not without its contributions to

the turn-of-the-century present . 4

Nor does the United States hold a monopoly on the sort of flexible

examination of past wars that assuages curiosities born of contemporary

interests. The e special interpretation the French gave of their disastrous

defeat in the Franco-Prussian War serves as one illustration . Placing tremendous emphasis on a failure of nerve, and convinced of the crucial

importance of what philosopher Henri Bergson called elan vital, or vital

spirit, the French emphasized motivation and enthusiasm at the expense

of more mundane method and detail. The final cost was calculated in

French dead and in near defeat in World War 1 . 1 Similarly, the assessment

of the origins and conduct of World War I had tremendous impact on

military affairs between the two world wars; and it is generally conceded

that the revisionist historical interpretation, driven partly by sympathy for

the German public struggling with inflation and war reparation payments,

finally contributed to the remilitarization of Germany and the prospects

of war.'

History, then, is a tool for understanding and a weapon for advancing

policy. This is no novelty and should occasion no surprise, but it may be

difficult to hold the line between history and advocacy when dealing with

sensitive events relatively close to the present. Nonetheless, distinguishing

between the two-in one's own conscience as well as in one's assessment

ofthe efforts of others-means the difference between benefiting from error

and setting the stage for committing new ones.

Unfortunately, claiming that one has learned something does not mean

that it has actually happened. Again, the case ofVietnam is not exceptional .

Even those who have thought hard about a war do not necessarily gain a

new appreciation of it-too much depends on what assumptions they carried into their retrospect, what outcomes were consciously or unconsciously

sought, and many other considerations that distort the process and prejudice its results. Nor do personal experience and authority drawn from

high rank ensure insight into events in which one was a participant . Some

hint ofthe limits ofthe learning process may be gained from remarks offered

by former Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara. In an interview with

Washington Post writer Paul Hendrickson, McNamara said he knew even

in the 1960s that Vietnam had lessons to offer. "I knew as early as 1966

there were lessons to be learned," McNamara said in 1984. "Of course I

did. I started the Pentagon Papers and goddammit, that's why I did it,"

he added. But the limits of McNamara's learning were revealed in his next

6
bringing them into some preliminary historical order did not automatically

constitute learning. Since what one can learn is delimited in some measure

by what one already thinks, the Pentagon Papers were in themselves merely

a data base; and the judgments and lessons contained in them represented

little more than indexing systems. Precisely what should have been done

could not be determined from the Pentagon Papers alone-the value system

of each reader, was required. Thus, McNamara's sense of satisfaction at

initiating the process that produced the Pentagon Papers had a rather hollow ring.

Others, including Hendrickson, proved less sanguine about the ease and

decisiveness with which one might learn from the experience of Vietnam.

"Vietnam is our great myth now," Hendrickson wrote in May 1984. "It has

superseded every other twentieth century American fable. What makes it

so terrible a tragedy and fine a myth is its impenetrability." Showing little

of the clipped assurance of McNamara, Hendrickson continued : "It is a

puzzle without pieces, a riddle without rhyme. How could it have gone so

wrong, all those lost American lives, nearly 60,000? And who was the enemy, exactly?"' Sooner or later, those dealing with the nation's affairs had

to deal with the concerns and problems addressed by those questions. How

they did so-with what kind of consciousness, with what sort of intent,

and with what type of methodology-set out the parameters within which

Vietnam could take on enduring public meaning.

The Continuing Relevance of the Vietnam Era

The relevance of the Vietnam experience depends, in part, on the agenda

of those studying it . The special risk for the military is tied to the importance of doctrine, a consciously advanced and sharply articulated ideology

of military affairs. In such a context, learning teeters at the brink of submission to doctrine; unbiased learning is badly jeopardized. Historical

events are mustered to validate doctrinal propositions . The emphasis on

vocabulary, such as the word validate, is far more than an academic exercise

in semantics-it underscores a particular way of using the past that contradicts the essential complexity of history. The mere construction of a

process whereby historical experience is employed to validate a doctrine

implicitly asserts that doctrine is the constant and that events are subordinate. In such a circumstance, experience risks becoming a footnote on

theory and concrete events risk being turned into servants of abstract

formulations.'

Although this knotty relationship between history and theory extends to

all forms of discourse, the conscious attention to military doctrine makes
interplay developed between doctrinal heritage (itself understood largely

as the synthesis of historical experience) and the seeming challenges posed

by events of the recent past. A primary test of military relevance for the

Vietnam era, then, seemed to reside in the reciprocity of recent events with

doctrine . If the events could be so understood as to support existing doctrine, then there might be little about them especially worth remembering.

On the other hand, if the events violated the predicted results of prevailing

doctrine, it might be necessary to attribute failures to improper conduct,

of both operations and the war as a whole, thus validating doctrine by

invalidating experience. Perhaps most subtly, it was possible to embrace

the past within the framework of one's own deep-seated beliefs and inclinations. Without dishonesty, one might still see falsely; and the product of

one's peculiar vision of experience would enjoy internal consistency yet

stand as something of an "intellectual Black Mass.

"'°

Notwithstanding such risks, however, analysis of past events, including

recent and unpleasant ones, is imperative. Sooner or later, they have consequences whether examined or not. Thus, whether directly or through its

effects, the armed services would inevitably deal with Vietnam. Given the

immense impact on US military personnel and resources, on public tolerance and the politico-military system, and on a wide range ofother things,

logic militated in favor of dealing with it frontally . Arguably the most badly

savaged service arm, the Army was the first to take the war into its corporate

memory; and it produced what were, in many ways, the most ingratiating

early works on the military aspects of the Vietnam experience. The Department of the Army produced the Vietnam Studies, topically organized

volumes on such matters as logistics or intelligence and issued under the

name oftwo- and three-star US generals. Indochina Monographs, providing

firsthand accounts by high-ranking Vietnamese and Laotian officers, were

issued by the Army's Center of Military History, which also produced the

Army's official history. One of the most appealing qualities of both series

was their businesslike, essentially noncontroversial, reserved, and professional tone. They seemed to come closer than other public efforts at the

time to beginning a sound descriptive assessment of the war on the firm

basis of military science . In time, the Army's histories could be turned into

a comprehensive vision of the Vietnam experience-one distinguished by

its grasp toward the principles ofwar rather than the principles of sea power,

air power, or land power. The reasonableness in tone of these writings, and

the breadth of their integration, put the Army in a favorable position for

influencing the emerging understanding ofwhat had happened in Southeast

Asia."

The actual content of these studies, however, could not have been com

pletely neutral or value-free. Would it have been realistic to imagine that

8
possible, would it even have been a virtue? Whatever the answer to the

most speculative of these notions, the books themselves had interpretative

implications well beyond the seeming confines of operational history . The

works provided substantial support for the view that the details of US

operations in Vietnam had been handled with substantial-sometimes consummate-skill. In studies of logistic support and of riverine operations,

for example, the keynote was the record of achievement of well-trained

forces in extremely difficult circumstances . Similarly, the extraordinary

performance of medical support teams, coupled with improvements in

medical treatment, was shown to have reduced the likelihood of battlefield

death." One might well have wondered why, if all these many particulars

were handled so well, the final result was poor.

Nor was this general line of approach restricted to support services or

to special action units. Retired Army Gen Donn A. Starry, for example,

spoke with enthusiasm on the use ofarmor in Vietnam by the United States,

showing genuine pride that armor operations proved possible over a far

greater percentage ofthe country than had first been expected." Calculating

the actual worth of such armor operations surely remained one ofthe most

ambiguous of undertakings; but Starry did not share the sense of doubt. A

representative curiosity in Starry's approach was the praise given to Rome

plows fixed to tractors and bulldozers pressing through jungles and clearing

access routes and landing zones. Lauding the swiftness of movement

through the vegetation took on a particularly odd note when compared

with the standard of swiftness associated with airmobility. Similarly intriguing assessments can be found in Gen Bernard Rogers's study on Operations Cedar Falls and Junction City, which he pronounced a clear success .

In both cases, however, even though the authors claimed real tactical and

possible strategic gains, the rock-bottom source of pridewas in professional

accomplishment-in the efficacy of the forces, in the soundness of both

men and machines, in the basic strength of leadership throughout the combat units.

'4

The cumulative lesson of all such works hinted at particular directions

where things might have gone wrong. Most of the traces seemed to lead

toward questions of policy and strategy, and the premises on which both

were made at the highest level. At the highest policy levels, there was a

hint of uncertainty-of insufficient clarity in goals to pursue and means

of pursuing them. And at the highest level ofmilitary leadership, there may

have been too great a sense of novelty and too little an insistence on professional judgment and experience. Anticipating views soon to be expounded

by serving officers, Dave Richard Palmer pressed these implications in

Summons of the Trumpet:" In the aftermath of the Korean War, the Army

had concluded in its 1954 field service regulations that since "wars of

9
of victory, the outcome of Korea constituted no victory even if it had met

the basic requirements of the United States and the United Nations. This

in turn fostered the false impression that so-called limited war was abnormal and that "total war," actually quite unusual, was normative. This misapprehension, along with the impeachment of professional military

judgment and past military history itself, contributed to the prospects for

disaster. Gradually, the accumulation of testimonies to the efficiency of

various units in Vietnam defied the outcome of the war as a whole and

laid claim once again to the authoritativeness of military judgment. It was

not without ultimate significance and effect on the US military that this

case for military judgment was spearheaded from the perspective of one

service with seemingly greater force than from the others. In some uncertain

measure, it was a question of coming to grips with the war, but it was also

a question of coming to a vision of the character of warfare in general and

of representing that particular vision as the basis for common interservice

preparations for future defense. Intended or not, the final stakes comprised

capturing the myth of Vietnam and, with it, the future of defense . Whose

predispositions and doctrinal heritage would most powerfully mold the

meaning into which Vietnam would be fitted?

The Emergence of History and Advocacy

The installation of views that had grown gradually within the Army as

a credible_ basis for national defense and general strategic planning was

suggested by the considerable public interest won by Harry Summers's On

Strategy. The Vietnam War in Context.

16 For popular audiences, Summers

offered the same concise judgment on Vietnam. "What I point out in the

book," he told an interviewer for Parade magazine in 1983, "is what James

Madison, Alexander Hamilton, and Carl von Clausewitz pointed out long

ago. No government should commit troops to battle without first obtaining

solid public support and carefully delineating its war objectives. We failed

to do that in Vietnam." Summers also gave popular and professional readers

the same message concerning possible future undertakings, and there were

unmistakable implications for current and future policy . In fact, the limits

imposed on the effectiveness of military operations by the characteristics

of the American political-military system seemed to suggest that the anticipated constraints on performance should force reexamination of objectives. Suggesting the need for caution in accepting new obligations, he

added: "If the majority of the American people don't want their armed

forces to fight in Nicaragua, El Salvador or Lebanon, then- we shouldn't

fight there." Citing "fundamental limitations" on the use of US military

10
the problem instead of solving it . Our intervention becomes

counterproductive ." "

On first glance, Summers appeared to join the chorus of voices seeing

the US effort in Vietnam as inherently wrongheaded and doomed to failure

on grounds that it violated the popular spirit of the Vietnamese and, eventually, of the Americans as well. But after further reflection, and especially

after a closer look at the elaboration ofargument behind the generalizations,

a far less critical or questioning line ofthought emerged. Summers not only

indicted high-level policymakers and executors for lack of clarity during

the Vietnam War but also suggested that the basis for a clear-and effective-policy actually existed . He asserted boldly that the government in

Hanoi managed the "other side" during the war, reducing to nearly marginal significance any autonomy that might have existed among dissident

South Vietnamese. This matter requires much consideration in its own

right; but as a preliminary assessment, one may take note of the ultimately

comforting and reassuring quality of a critique that tends to provide a

unitary explanation for the behavior of one's opponents. At first blush, it

must seem difficult to write a book that will please many about a war that

pleased few; and so the considerable currency of Summers's book occasions

notice ." But the greater truth may be that dissatisfaction with the war

preconditioned a large audience to accept critical remarks. Criticism of

operational techniques or of their relationship to some larger strategic

scheme could be swallowed if traditional doctrinal directions were not recharted. And it would surely prove relatively easy to accept such criticism

within the Army if the doctrine that won implicit reaffirmation was its

own. In the end, such implications did flow from Summers's work, which

was an uncompromising call for a return to traditional principles of war,

for a rejection of novelties as if they were for their own sake, for a renewed

use of professional military judgment, and for a wide range of other propositions. But the implications of such views might become, knottier : What

if it turned out to be a theoretically attractive and emotionally appealing

interpretation, but-one that reflected only a few selected aspects of the war

and met only selected features ofthe contemporary world it sought to serve?

The suitable point of departure must lie within Summers's argument

itself. He notes that various US officials asserted that there was a serious

indigenous insurgency in South Vietnam and suggests that they deceived

themselves by thinking of the war as a fundamentally or even exclusively

local problem. But such a view-and even a much less extreme version of

it-is not borne out in the abundant records available from National Security Council meetings, cabinet meetings, presidential advisers of both the

Kennedy and Johnson administrations, and other sources . Whatever errors

were committed by both civilian and military advisers to the president,

11
Walt Rostow's judgment that the North was deeply at fault-and that

its involvement was essential to continuing disorder in the South-raised

the prospect ofhaving to deploy forces across the Ho Chi Minh trail system,

from northwestern South Vietnam below the DMZ out into Laos. Early

on, limited aircraft deployment and limited use of aerial firepower were

explicitly intended as symbolic statements to Hanoi and not as measures

through which; specific and direct military gains would be made against

the insurgents in the South. When "graduated response" did in fact graduate, when escalation and geographical redirection of bombing took place,

it was not because ofa sudden epiphany that Hanoi was somewhat involved

but as a somewhat despairing measure justified by the evident insufficiency

of earlier US "symbolic communication" with North Vietnam. If speaking

through air power in Laos proved insufficient or if positioning US naval

forces in close proximity to North Vietnam proved inaudible, then perhaps

it was necessary to use harsher words and to shout. So, ultimately, did a

logic aimed at persuasion of the leadership in Hanoi emerge; but it was

focused, even from its earliest and quite modest origins, on North Vietnam.

Indeed, one could page without end through the documents piled up from

White House and executive office building personnel and find precious

little about specifically southern insurgents. 2 °

Far more knotty for US officials was the weaving of a path between

constraints imposed by domestic interests and those imposed by external

forces . Real limits still existed as to what the United States could do without

incurring unacceptable political damage overseas during a passionately anticolonialist period and without generating unreasonable pressures within

the United States . It became fashionable to say that, Johnson restrained

and hampered the US commitment in Vietnam out of fear that he would

damage his Great Society program. But the "revolution of rising expectations" that was cited as an explanation for unrest overseas applied to the

United States as well. The constraints were considerable and genuine. 2 '

Particularly at a time when limited war theories were in season, limited

methods had an aura of legitimacy. This, too, has been portrayed as something of a defect ; but what was the practical alternative? The catchphrase

was that Johnson and his advisers confused limited war with limited commitment. Yet, presuming that even identifiable and clear goals are not

always worth risking all of one's resources, how does one draw the line?

Realistically and practically, what would unlimited commitment have

meant in a limited war for less than live-or-die stakes?22

Although US leaders were aware that Hanoi was deeply involved, the

issue was how to do something about it without damaging other US interests. To say that the United States must have blinded itself to Hanoi's

role in the South and to imply justification for the argument on grounds

12
acts and certain national governmental authorities . The imagined "proof"

that would be required would be, for example, that the United States had

failed to bomb Tehran. It would be like suggesting that the United States

saw no ties between regional and local problems on the one hand and the

Soviet Union and Cuba on the other. The issue lies in determining the

costs of doing something about it as well as the chances of doing it successfully. The neat perception of Vietnam as a simple binary conflict took

the war after the Tet offensive of 1968 as the true version, impeaching the

importance of the war's multitrack, multilevel structure in earlier years. It

was part of an interpretative turn away from counterinsurgency, as if counterinsurgency were merely theory rather than a centuries-old recurrent phenomenon; and it was an embrace of the conventional armed force wisdom

of the pre-Vietnam days. This specialized version of the war held great

potential for influencing strategic thinking, forecasting possible and probable forms of conflict, and developing preferences in force structure . The

honor and wisdom of past events were the immediate subjects at issue, but

the prize was the future . 23

Still, the basic argument suffers not only from a certain measure of inaccuracy but also from a measure of inconsistency. Summers simultaneously dismisses the notion of independent insurgents in South Vietnam

while proposing that insurgent groups operate with substantial independence and seek to avoid overdependence on supplies and guidance from

outside the zone of conflict. One is forced to wonder why it should be

necessary to protect South Vietnam from external intrusion so as to let the

local government's forces suppress the local insurgents if there were no

local insurgents. Nor can it be that the problems are all imported from

outside, as Summers himself clearly knows. His own critique of the US

military role in nation-building and civic action clearly exposes the fact

that the government in Saigon was not undertaking,that critical task effectively and, by necessary implication, was as much of a problem as

Hanoi-whether in prosecuting a war against the insurgents or in managing

war at other levels . Here, in the end, was a government incapable of reforming itself even when the cost was a lethal threat to the survival of South

Vietnam's "national" identity. Even at a distance of several years, it is

difficult to determine precisely what strategy would have transformed Saigon's government sufficiently for it to gain genuine control and authority

over South Vietnam.

24

Specific treatment of the Tet offensive of 1968 also raises logical questions. 25 How is it that the conflict in the South was without its indigenous

element if one of Hanoi's alleged interests in staging the Tet offensive was

to wipe out local leaders in the South? If the latter was part of the plan,

then Hanoi must have assumed that there indeed were indigenous insur13
problems in the South were predominantly imported from the North.

A further problem resident in the methodology is a willingness to accept

the post-1975 statements of North Vietnamese about their conduct of the

war and their intentions while discounting so many of their statements

made during the war itself. It is as if the leadership in Hanoi ceased having

any political reasons to constrain candor simply because they had won.

Logically, there is no reason to assume that a regime which had practical

interests in describing events in ways ranging-from eccentric to completely

false during the war would instantly be deprived of those interests and

motivations on the collapse of an adversary. For some US writers, after

all, the Vietnam War was over. Indeed, some regarded it as "over" in 1973,

let alone 1975. For the Vietnamese, however, despite the collapse of the

Saigon regime and the removal of the Americans, other pieces in the larger

Indochina conflict continued-and still continue. Thus, what was becoming

a matter of historical retrospect in Washington was still largely a matter

of current events in Hanoi.

The view of the Vietnam War emerging in some quarters seemed driven

less by events in Indochina than by current visions of the character of

warfare . In one sense and in one set of categories, this could be useful and

even laudable. A particular case that did not lend itself to general principles

would surely be anomalous-and unlikely. Yet the danger lay in reading

into the past a currently preferable way of warfighting . In the case of Summers, for example, as with some of the highest Army leaders of the last

decade, there developed a surprisingly strong cautionary attitude that there

were, indeed, some wars that the United States should sit out. 26 Carried

into the past, however, this seemed to warp Vietnam. An imaginary version

ofhow the war might conceivably have been won emerged while the tactics

and doctrine actually used in Vietnam were criticized as having been illsuited to some largely imaginary conditions.

An additional intriguing aspect of this emerging quasi-official military

version of the Vietnam War is the degree to which it departs from previous

testimonies as to the war's character, even by a good many military officers

including some of high rank.

17 The discrepancies between Summers's view

and that ofGeneral Starry, for example, are instructive . In Mounted Combat

in Vietnam, General Starry accepted that there had been a genuinely local

side to the war in which dissident groups constituted an important resource

for an insurgency. 28 In this way, General Starry avoided the problem of

confusing whether there would have been conflict without aid and coordination from Hanoi with what kind of conflict might have been sustained

without them.

14
It invited viewing each conflict in a larger sense, which was much more

comfortable for traditionalists in the military services to deal with. It encouraged attending to wars of higher intensity, which also had the luxury

of being the wars least likely to be fought (such as a conflict in Europe or

a nuclear war). Thus, interpreting Vietnam in falsely neat terms supported

the focusing of maximum attention on wars of least likelihood while suggesting minimum accommodation for wars of greatest probability. This,

surely, is eccentric respect for Clausewitz. For although the Prussian theorist was right in proclaiming the need to avoid being swamped by the sheer

dynamics of war, he was especially right in seeing that the objective had

to be the proper one.

Even as assessments ofwar in progress govern the strategy to be pursued,

retrospective analyses ofa war determine current and future policy. Achieving a proper vision-accurate and relevant-is the object of the whole

exercise. In a lighter vein than he would likely have sustained in a different

forum, Summers commented on a review of his book On Strategy in a way

that occasioned question as to the accuracy of his approach. He sought to

compare the South Vietnamese posture after 1954-56 with the southerners'

stereotypical vision of the American Civil War as a "War for Southern

Independence ." This perhaps playful but certainly peculiar comparison exemplified the tendency to portray the Vietnam War largely as a conventional war between two opposing nation-states aided by their respective

allies and, at least in one case, bolstered by a substantial "fifth column"

within the aggrieved state. Seeking to pass off the criticisms lodged against

his arguments by Professor Gerald Berkeley of Auburn University at Montgomery, Alabama, Summers misread Berkeley's conclusion that "we need

to be more accurate in our assessment ofthe type ofsituation we are facing ."

Summers interpreted that to mean the process of assessment is more important than the accuracy of its results . The issue is not whether strategic

vision must be kept sharp and clear, but whether Summers's reading of

Vietnam encourages false policy by offering false lessons ."

Vantage Points and Visions

While an interpretation of Vietnam premised on the traditional principles of war was gradually taking shape among various Army officers and

historians, certain Air Force publications tended to place a greater emphasis

on the principles of air power and on the proper role of air power in

contemporary wars. The other services were less prompt than the Army in

beginning to frame observations about the war on the bedrock of military

15
still under way-seemed more likely to motivate heroic performance than

to serve as the foundation for a comprehensive understanding of the war.

Two examples are Aces & Aerial Victories: The United States Air Force in

Southeast Asia, 1965-1973 issued in 1976 by the Air Force's Albert F. Simpson Historical Research Center and the Office of Air Force History, and

Seven Firefights in Vietnam, released in 1970 by the Army's Office of the

Chief of Military History: 3° Others touched on high-visibility events, such

as the fight at Khe Sanh, providing a measure of praise for the professionalism of the combat forces involved and staking some implied claim to

responsibility for the successful outcome." Such works were never intended

as enduring and all-encompassing official histories; they were preliminary

essays into what promised to' be a vast undertaking.

Even then, the services were engaged in efforts to save and assemble

material to document the war, including interviews with senior officers,

after action and end oftour reports, and a variety ofother items. Eventually,

the first works in the official history of the war written by the respective

services began to appear. From the Navy's historical branch came Edwin

Brickford Hooper, Dean C. Allard, and Oscar P. Fitzgerald's The United

States Navy in the Vietnam Conflict, volume 1, The Setting of the Stage to

1959; from the Marine Corps, the first volumes in their operational history

such as Jack Shulimson's U.S. -Marines in Vietnam, 1966: An Expanding

War, and the first volume of the Air Force official history, The Advisory

Years to 1965, drafted by Robert Frank Futrell and revised by Martin Blumenson. 3z In addition, specialized studies appeared under the aegis of the

Office of Air Force History on topics such as the development on fixedwing gunships and defoliation . 33

The most significant of the works appearing in the 1970s, however, may

have been some that skirted the edge of official history-essentially memoirs. Standing out for attention among these are William W. Momyer's Air

Power in Three Wars and U. S. Grant Sharp's Strategyfor Defeat, Vietnam

in Retrospect. 34 Momyer's work affirmed the postulates of air power as

developed in the 1920s and 1930s with relatively brief comments on World

War II, asserted the enduring validity of these precepts by reference to the

Korean War, and associated the shortcomings of the Vietnam conflict with

failure to follow the principles ofair power. Largely a memoir of his service

in Vietnam as commander of the Seventh Air Force and as Gen William

C. Westmoreland's air deputy, the work created an aura which was at once

defensive and challenging-defensive in the sense that it implicitly argued

against charges that air power, and especially the Air Force, had failed in

Vietnam, and challenging in that it sought to rally readers in support of a

16
But there was a message running between the lines that kept saying, "I

told you so." The reltatement of air power postulates, which had already

had effective doctrinal force for half a century, limited the range of alternative creative thinking and made the importance of air power and of the

Air Force, more than the relationship of air power to the basic principles

of war, the focus. Whatever the intention, much of the effect was to extend

the justifying argument for a separate Air Force and to continue the traditional Air Force quest for the "unity of air power." Even if true, such

postulates lacked sufficient extensiveness to touch the concerns of all the

major "warrior constituencies ." Thus, irrespective ofaccuracy, they courted

irrelevance in some important quarters.

Part of the problem was in the implicit logic that, since what was done

in Vietnam did not promptly conform to the precepts of air power and

since it failed to achieve the final US objectives, then adoption of those

precepts would have worked. For those who already believed in the doctrinal postulates of air power, an argument running on the edge of such

assumptions was not only acceptable but reassuring; and there was something to be said for rallying to the task at hand with a minimum of selfcriticism lest it become self-doubt. But since the possible military obligations of the United States ranged widely over the spectrum of intensity

and since the gradual historical appraisal of Vietnam took substantial notice

of the war's complexity, a monolithic interpretation of the war and a doctrinally neat specification of how it could have been remedied resembled

simplism and special pleading. 36 Whether right or wrong, such an approach

may have been a bit impolitic . If one already believed such an argument,

this was a strong statement of it ; but if one was not already persuaded, it

risked seeming tendentious.

Like General Momyer, Admiral Sharp attended keenly to the shortcomings of the war's conduct and drew heavily on his own professional experience to support what he believed would have been a strategy for victory.

But such a hypothesis was ultimately beyond testing; and his categorical

claim for the validity of his view stripped it of an objective appearance.

Transparent contempt for certain figures, such as Robert McNamara, had

a disabling effect. It seemed nearly to reduce the war to a duel between

different kinds ofexpertise-a flirtation with the logical fallacy ofargument

from authority.

17

The actual merits of Momyer's and Sharp's views are not the pertinent

matter here. Rather, it is the question of how those views were presented

and how the manner of presentation may have restricted the acceptability

of their messages. The style may have become the substance of the message

projected, alienating some from Momyer and Sharp and their doctrinal

inclinations. It is not enough to be right if one is also distant .

17
The principles of war are basically only special expressions of the principles of human behavior. Emphasis on a particular principle and the concrete meaning attached to the generally stated form ofa principle are likely

to suggest some measure of preference-some underlying agenda. A simplified history-that is, the making of references to the past-has always

obtained in modern societies . But the balance between principle, preference, and historical precedent is elusive ; and traditions, biases, and doctrinal predispositions are difficult to breed out of one's application of a

generally accepted principle . The common talk about possible war and

provisions for defense after the mid-1970s played into a shadowland where

all truth wore a cloak of gray.

Among the shades were some that held many in their sway. Some ideas

that fell out during postwar reaction and reflection harmonized with traditional professional norms and expectations . They were easily acceptable

to the officer corps; yet they sounded uncommon enough to seem, falsely,

that they had been driven especially by Vietnam. But the manner of response, in the end, was a skip back into the cadence of perspectives that

were anchored solidly in tradition . New York Times Magazine military

writer Drew Middleton, for example, thought that the memories ofVietnam

were still eating away at many who had served in Southeast Asia. In "Vietnam and the Military Mind," published in the Times Magazine on 10

January 1982, Middleton said that memories of Vietnam were "still painfully fresh," feeding the "bitter conviction that, had things been run differently, the war could have been won." 38 Although Army officers, for

example, did seek to gain some lessons from their Southeast Asian experience, Middleton pointed to the military's "deep, abiding resentment" at

how the war was reported." The military's assessment of its own professional performance tended to focus on practical matters such as the need

for clear policy, personnel procedures, and logistical support; its assessment

of outside parties, including the electronic media, remained broad and

inclusive, ultimately contributing to the view that the media were more

responsible for the failure in Vietnam than the military were. Developing

a composite from his discussions with officers from the several services,

Middleton described the judgment the military had on Vietnam: "Too much

effort, he was sure, was being expended on sideshows, such as programs

designed to `win more hearts and minds' of the South Vietnamese. Give

the Army and Air Force their head, he would say, and victory would win

more hearts and minds than any land reform or village-resettlement program. "4° The media, the political leadership, and antiwar activists were

among those considered suspect-as having discouraged relying on the

professional military in establishing the ground rules of the war. In this

way, the military might determine that the Vietnam experience was not

18
overcome by visions inspired by deep-seated presuppositions about the

nature of war and American preferences for its conduct.

The larger point, however, was to establish a suitable basis for future

performance. In this regard, Army officers made no secret of their diffidence as to US military involvement overseas in the 1980s, evidently seeking to clarify terms and encourage both broader awareness and some

consensus on what might likely be done. Reporting in the New York Times

Magazine on 21 June 1983, Drew Middleton wrote of the "unusual unanimity" with which senior Army generals opposed US military intervention

in Central America "without the clear, unequivocal support of Congress

and the people."4 ' Among those specifically mentioned were Gen John W.

Vessey, Jr., chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; Gen Edward C. Meyer,

then Army chief of staff; Gen Wallace Nutting, former Southern Command

head, then with Readiness Command; Gen Bernard W. Rogers, supreme

commander ofNATO; and Gen William C. Westmoreland, US commander

in Vietnam during the war. Middleton emphasized that military officers

saw Central American problems as complex and integrated-economic,

political, social, and military-problems that cannot be solved by a restrictively or even predominantly military effort. Some officers, whose

names Middleton did not provide, warned that sending even one American

brigade to El Salvador would "push the peasants toward the leftist insurgents." They insisted that the goal of policy be clear and that the American

public be given a clear picture on risks and costs in money and manpower.

In an intriguing variant on the principles underlying the War Powers Act

of 1973, General Westmoreland suggested that any congressional authorization of a war be reexamined annually "after careful scrutiny of the situation by political and military leaders," thus providing either a

reaffirmation of commitment or an awareness that conflicting views made

sustaining that commitment impracticable .42 Although officers were not

cited as having said so, their observations suggested some distinction between an "Army of the American people" and an Army of the current

administration; and the sources for the guidance they offered seemed less

the immediate policy of those presently in office than the policy growing

from the interests and character of the American people.

The Army's insistence on congressional and popular support as a prerequisite for committing US forces to pursue the administration's policies

continued after General Meyer's retirement. In an article in the Washington

Post on 24 June 1983, Gen John A. Wickham, Jr., the Army chief of staff,

was described by his aides as sharing the views of General Meyer concerning

the nature of the Central American problems and the strong reasons for

not sending US troops there. The same article noted that Lt Gen Robert

L. Schweitzer, chairman ofthe Inter-American Defense Board, was reported

19
ist takeovers." Nonetheless, it was deemed possible to be genuinely committed to supporting a given regime without having a major troop

deployment to go along with it . 43 Soon after his appointment as Army chief

of staff, General Wickham made roughly this same point much more explicitly. Although he refused to disavow the use of US troops in Central

America absolutely, he all but did so conditionally. He did not "see the

potential for widening ofinvolvement ofthe American military" in Central

America. He declined to intrude on the political leaders' responsibility for

judging "the will of the people," but he nonetheless expressed doubt that

domestic support existed for sending US troops to Central America; and

he considered such support absolutely essential for any deployment to become worthwhile.44

Although such views as these had a long and respected-even hallowedtradition in the United States military, the chronological nearness of the

Southeast Asian war probably made it inevitablethat some would see them

as specific effects of Vietnam. But when General Wickham was asked what

impact the Vietnam experience was having on US policies toward Central

America, he demurred. "I don't think we should tie ourselves to historical

precedent," he told reporters on 8 August 1983. In speaking of "many

differences" between Vietnam and Central America, General Wickham

pointed to the comparative proximity of Central American nations to the

United States, to the changing character of the strategic threat to US interests, and shifts in the "American perception of its role in the world.

"45

On the conceptual level, then, where the problems of Vietnam substantially

originated, the Army chief disavowed precedents. This meant, however,

that Vietnam had no real power over US action in Central America at any

level, since lesser and more specific decisions can be judged appropriate

only with reference to the broader conception.

To be sure, Army officers-both on active duty and retired-were hardly

the ones to focus attention on the need for such basic elements of a successful national military enterprise as maintaining popular support and

securing a conscious and willing endorsement in Congress. But the frequency with which Army officers avoided stark and simplified references

to the presumed impact of Vietnam was unusually high. By contrast, in a

speech republished in Air Force Magazine in March 1983, retired Air Force

Gen T. R. Milton gave a recital of the history of the war in Southeast Asia

to present "The Lessons of Vietnam." General Milton described the forces

he regarded as key to the failure of US efforts in Vietnam, recognizing that

it was crucial for the United States to avoid a knee-jerk reaction. "The very

name Vietnam," he said, "has become a code word meaning, to a substantial vocal element in this land of ours, any exercise of military power

however small-in support of national policy." He insisted that pressing

20
again to assert ourselves with confidence.

"46

Yet, despite the value one might see in getting the lessons of Vietnam

right, it was important to determine who had gotten them wrong. Although

"a substantial vocal element" might use the "very name Vietnam" as a

code word for military involvements, it was important to know how substantial and how vocal the element was and, perhaps even more, who exactly

they were. It was at least an open question who was most haunted by "the

Vietnam ghost" ; and, ironically but not altogether surprisingly, many military officers and political figures who customarily favored use of such

involvements at least in theory were among the most likely to make references to Vietnam. The exorcism for which General Milton called may

have been needed as much within the military as in any other significant

operating element in the national system.

General Milton himself exemplified this tendency in an article for the

Colorado Springs Sun on 12 December 1983. A regular contributor of observations and opinion to the newspaper, he began by noting that "there

is something disturbingly similar about Lebanon and the early days of

Vietnam, much as I hate to invoke that tiresome cliche.

"4' What seemed

similar to him was excessive caution in "fending off the enemy." Limited

responses to hostile fire upon US Marines reminded Milton ofthe "tit-fortat" reaction after the Vietcong attacks on B-57 aircraft at Bien Hoa and

on the US Army compound at Pleiku. The answer Milton considered appropriate to the riddle of Lebanon was removal of the Marines to ships

and launching "a highly visible, and audible, display of air power" as a

"demonstration of United States presence.

"4s Some aspects of General Milton's recommendation make for some interesting questions in their own

right. Was the use ofaerial firepower "in a few big air strikes against Syrian

batteries in the Bekaa valley" not somehow harking back to the use of

military operations as political signals? 49 Could aerial firepower be used

profitably as a "demonstration of presence" in a complicated political

environment?

The public stance ofthe highest Army officers, diffident as to the specific

pertinence of Vietnam, may have been useful and politic; and it may have

also been something of a breastwork behind which the reexamination of

experience and some reformulation of doctrine could continue. For even

as the Army's highest officers adopted a distinctly pragmatic tone (and as

some of their counterparts in sister services openly defended their doctrinally established views in ways that made them sound too much like

ideologues), the "worker bees" throughout the armed forces carried the

psychic scars of Vietnams° The question was which tone, which approach,

and which group would be best poised to seize the moment when the time

21
Historical Reflections and a Grasp at the Future

The ultimate practical pay-off of an exercise in historical reflection lies

in the coherence and relevance it can bring to one's present and future

behavior. The,coherence comes if we can grasp a past problem as a whole,

gain some sense of the past as having a distinct and integral meaning of

its own (even if we misread it), and envision some working relationship

between it and our own deep-seated beliefs . Our beliefs need not be "validated" by history in the sense of being proved operationally accurate, but

they must be shown to have pertinence. And so reflection is neither namecalling nor an attempt to escape responsibility for one's own failings . The

more accurate we sense the reflection to be, the more inclusive ofour beliefs

and doctrinal interests and past experience it is; and the more extensive

over the range of military and security concerns it becomes, the more philosophically satisfying and practically acceptable the interpretation

becomes.

A military review of the past may become either a raid on history for

verbal plunder with which to decorate one's own self-esteem or a retooling

of the self-image. In the aftermath of Vietnam, the Army, more quickly

and more effectively than the other US services, took step after step toward

this reconstruction . Although there were many variants and versions of

strategic thinking within the Army, as elsewhere in the armed forces and

in the civilian sector ofthe defense community, the AirLand Battle concept

received the most attention . Advanced as a general approach to warfighting

that was not scenario-dependent, the underlying thrust was to reassert maneuver, reaffirm the importance ofversatility on the battlefield, and reclaim

warfare as a military art and science from those who had treated it largely

as political gesture and signal sending and had underplayed the importance

of military skills and professionalism." It was inevitable that the Army's

doctrinal formulations would touch on the interests and beliefs ofthe other

services.s z The genius of the Army's concept-soon established as doctrine-was that it took everyone into consideration, although not necessarily in ways that they endorsed, and gave everyone something to do,

although not necessarily what they preferred to be doing. It was coherent

and comprehensive-and hence relevant and persuasive.

The general spirit of the, AirLand Battle concept made it an especially

signficant triumph over the installation-heavy US presence in Vietnam.

This was hardly to say that the massing of force and the maintenance of

suitable supply were not critical ; rather, once forces and materiel were

massed, the manner in which they manipulated and applied to real military

22
"what" that was at issue; it was the "how."

A full statement of the AirLand Battle concept, now emerging as Army

doctrine and extending its reach into the thinking ofthe other services and

of other NATO nations, was issued by the US Army Training and Doctrine

Command (TRADOC) in 1982. The assignment of responsibilities among

services and branches was included, as was a vision of how AirLand Battle

would actually, function. Refinement continued, but there was little doubt

that a serious alternative to defending NATO's eastern frontiers had been

posed."

Although the clarity and apparent pertinence ofAirLand Battle depended

on its response to immediately pressing problems having to do with the

relative balance of NATO and Warsaw Pact forces in various categories of

units and weapons, its pertinence to the Army drew on a deeper and more

complex tradition . In a great many ways, it picked up themes from the late

1950s and very early 1960s that had been either peculiarly transmuted by

the events of the Vietnam War or deferred when interest in counterinsurgency ran high. The emphasis on maneuver and onunits' abilities to operate

for uncertain lengths oftime quasi-autonomously was justified in the 1950s

as a defense against nuclear attack and as a way of introducing tactical

flexibility into even the very high-threat environment of a nuclear war. The

centerpiece of the Army's effort to produce this transformation was the

"Pentomic Division," advanced most notably by then Chief of Staff Maxwell D. Taylor; and articulations of "nuclear tactics" followed .

14

General Taylor's emphasis on the nation's need for "flexible response"

was soon all but equated with the interest in counterinsurgency and unconventional warfare, but it had really developed with much less departure

from the traditional concern over war on the more intense end of the

spectrum. The line behind which Taylor wished to stay was "massive retaliation" and all-out war, including strategic nuclear exchange. Tactical

nuclear warfare was not only not taboo; thinking about it was imperative

if deterrence of anything less than a total nuclear war were to seem credible." The advocates of airmobility within the Army were focused on Europe-on "the big war"-and did not give much thought to the use of

helicopters in low-intensity conflicts, counterguerrilla action, and the like. 16

"Flexible response" really meant flexibility in Europe more than it meant

anything else, except perhaps for its meaning as a step toward reaffirming

the Army's utility in modern warfare and to its right to share in the formulation of military policy.

Such views as appeared in the 1980s, then, had a history themselves.

This was modified and molded through time and experience, including that

of the Vietnam conflict. Vietnam affected some as an uncomfortable and

23
When generalities yielded to policy and budget specifics, the lessons from

past experience tended to vary according to service interests and background. In essence, this extended the pattern that had been established

during the war. For Lt Gen William W. Dick, Jr., chief of Army research

and development, Vietnam demonstrated the need for better armor on

helicopters and for an advanced aerial fire support system (AAFSS). Such

a helicopter would have twice the speed of those used in Vietnam and

would be equipped with improved weapons. The goal was "to satisfy a

requirement for an armed air vehicle that can be integrated into US Army

maneuver elements to provide commanders with responsive mobile firepower." The AAFSS would be able to operate without an airstrip and under

reduced visibility and ceiling, and it would have highly accurate fire control ;

yet its place in the larger question of interservice competition for postVietnam roles could not be overlooked." It clearly posed some measure of

competition with aerial support that might be delivered by branches other

than the Army.

By contrast, the Marines tended to justify those innovations which they

tested in Vietnam as simple outgrowths of their traditional expeditionary

role. Apart from the use of helicopters in "vertical assault," Gen Wallace

Greene claimed that the full-scale amphibious landing force was again demonstrated as effective and necessary by landings on beachheads in Vietnam.

That these landings were unopposed did not bar General Greene from

describing them as "a projection of our Nation's seapower ashore." Close

air support was proclaimed effective because pilots were doing what they

had trained to do-support Marines on the ground; and the logistic support

system operated well "because our essential supply system is integrated

within our combat units." All was designed, he said, to "relieve the combat

marine of all possible administrative burdens while in combat." The expeditionary airfield concept-using aluminum matting spread out over

level sand-was described as having been in development for eight years;

so the message was that the Marine Corps could be relied on to produce

tactics and systems needed for unexpected eventualities . In addition, General Greene praised the Marine air traffic control unit, even at the time

when air control was still a knotty issue among the services in Southeast

Asia."

In testimony before Congress in 1967, Gen John P. McConnell allowed

that the Vietnam experience showed that the Air Force had not given sufficient attention to tactical aviation. "We needed a lot more than we have

put into it or have been able to put into it," he said, "particularly in terms

of the capability to pinpoint targets at night and in all weather conditions."

Similarly, command and control arrangements had not been developed with

an eye to appropriate and full coordination with the Army's ground forces .

24
progress had been achieved in airlift, as well; and overall, he judged that

the Air Force had taken to heart some of the key issues raised by the conduct

ofthe war. 59 The differing approaches toward gaining lessons from Vietnam

made it possible for the services to pose rival interpretations of the experience there-interpretations that could sustain interservice rivalries.

The effort to short-circuit interservice rivalry between the Army and the

Air Force was, notable, including development of offices in TRADOC at

Fort Monroe, Virginia, and in the headquarters of the Air Force's Tactical

Air Command (TAC) at Langley AFB, Virginia, to achieve coordination

and resolve potential problems. But these measures, taken to reduce tension

and hostility, faced certain troublesome realities . TRADOC was responsible

for developing Army doctrine and for seeing to its promulgation. The former task, difficult as it was, led toward definable resolution; but knowing

how well the new doctrine was accepted had to be a more elusive matter

of estimation. On the other hand, the cooperative achievements in which

TAC had a part could not automatically be promulgated throughout the

Air Force, since it was largely a horizontally integrated organization . Moreover, a determination to cooperate and to transcend traditional boundaries

often runs strong at the very highest ranks while the genuine instincts of

the lesser ranking officers and of the troops run contrary. Thus, panels and

study groups gave no guarantee that the mechanisms of cooperation would

yield a strong and durable product. 60

Public statements in support of Air Force-Army cooperation appeared

in a variety of fora, frequently presented by those whose assignments had

put them close to the issue. Typical of such works was an article by Maj

James A. Machos, whose "Air-Land Battles or AirLand Battle?" appeared

in the July 1983 issue ofMilitary Review. Machos referred to AirLand Battle

doctrine as a "focus" that emphasized the need for the services to "train

and fight together," thereby taking unilateral service initiatives and reaping

benefits from their synergism . 6 ' Adding his own emphasis on the need for

swift reaction in the event a war were to break out in Europe, Machos

insisted that all tasks be undertaken "without regard to service rivalry or

bias" (Machos's emphasis) . 62 This served, in effect, as an introduction for

reevaluating standingAir Force doctrinal views-a comparatively rare public examination of the degree of compatibility between Air Force doctrine

and a major Army doctrinal statement that had been construed as having

interservice support and agreement. Close-air-support (CAS) doctrine, according to Machos, must be understood to include strikes deeper behind

the forward line of own troops (FLOT) than was traditional in CAS thinking . Moreover, he specified that A-10 aircraft (not considered the most

glamorous) take a major part in such an effort. 63 Suppression of enemy air

defenses (SEAD) had been traditionally regarded as an Air Force counterair

25
use of land assets to support tactical air (TACAIR) operations and to free

aircraft for roles other than suppression .64 Machos viewed the traditional

definition of interdiction-from the FLOT "to the limits of TACAIR"-

as "not sufficient in today's battlefield environment .

"65 The notion that

interdiction was a TACAIR mission exclusively was "parochial" ; Machos

advocated ajoint responsibility, including the right ofground commanders

to "influence interdiction targeting beyond the CAS area of operations." 66

The nature of the war expected in Europe and the vision of the means

needed to win it clearly encouraged a rethinking of doctrine.

Col Thomas A. Cardwell III, in a 1984 Military Review article, focused

on the need to take the generalized agreement on AirLand Battle as a

concept and to implement it with practical steps. He specified that these

were necessary to ensure that genuine agreement on command and control

would be in place well before any combat action was undertaken. Cardwell

concluded that much of the writing and discussion that had taken place on

AirLand Battle was "simply a rehash ofArmy thinking that had been kicking around for the past 40 years.

"67 Reevaluation was driven by the Army's

expansion of the geographical area included within its scope of influence

and interest .68 Cardwell was enthusiastic about the Army-Air Force cooperation in developing a joint operational concept for attack of the "second echelon" (J-SAK, published on 13 December 1982), the only basis for

full resolution of any differences ofview and an approach that was to "come

to grips with the control issue.

"69 Acting as if the problems were essentially

technical could not solve the basic problems; even within the armed forces,

let alone in the services' relations with civilian leaders, the seemingly technical and operational question was a political one.

Still, a long history lay behind each service's special positions . Each carried deeply held views on how to deter or fight a war most effectively, and

organizational biases and interests emerged in support of those variant

"ways of war."'° Ingrained dispositions did not die easily. A mid-1983

report called the Air Force "a reluctant partner in the new Army strategy" ;

it was "paying lip service" to AirLand Battle . In an article in the 18 June

1983 issue of National Journal, Michael R. Gordon noted that there was

considerable positive comment on the Army's return to "tactical literacy"

and that the doctrine in general had a good reception in Congress, among

defense analysts, in the defense industry, and in the press." Apart from

the worries of some Europeans that the emphasis on tactical flexibility in

AirLand Battle meant advancing into Warsaw Pact territory, the key difficulties lay in turning the generality into the specifics of missions and

resources .

Recognizing an eagerness to turn away from reliance on firepower as the

key to tactical success, Gordon quoted a study done at Fort Leavenworth

26
primarily for locating and fixing the enemy.

z

Observations drawn largely from the Arab-Israeli War of 1973, which

showed the startling capabilities of antitank weapons, cast doubt on extreme reliance on firepower; and a growing apprehension of the mass of

armor available to the Warsaw Pact added to the need for reexamination .

Although the 1976 version of Army Field Manual (FM) 100-5, Operations,

still talked in terms of needing a 6-1 ratio of superiority to conduct an

offensive counterattack, it also recognized the situation facing the Army

as "unprecedented." Maintaining advantageous force ratios along potentially threatened fronts by massing troops tends to suggest fixed positions,

inadequate flexible reserves, and the taking of enemy echelons in succession." Viewed closely, there were serious differences among various Army

tactical doctrines proposed during the 1970s; yet, seen from a greater distance, they formed a trend toward enhanced flexibility of the ground forces .

While firepower remained critical, it was not controlling-it was necessary

to have it, but it was equally necessary that it not govern the way in which

forces were disposed or how they were employed. This formed the basis

for potential difficulties with the Air Force, since the Army's enhanced

maneuver suggested-at least to them-the need for greater control over

firepower assets, including aircraft. Assuming the primacy of ground force

maneuverability as the determinant of tactical operations, it is hardly surprising that ground commanders would want a say in where their support

was coming from. Against this grasp was the Air Force's interest in air

superiority and in suppressing enemy air defenses . The question to be

resolved was the balance between goals that called for autonomous operations and those in which closely coordinated joint action was imperative.

The answer was not immediately clear.

That there was some reluctance and sense ofreservation within the Army

itself did become clear-not necessarily to oppose AirLand Battle as such

but to puzzle over the wars of greatest likelihood and to determine how

best to prepare for future contingencies . Since the ascent of AirLand Battle

came as a reciprocal of the decline of theory and practice in counterinsurgency, those who were concerned about retaining capabilities in the lowintensity end of the spectrum of conflict had some basis for their worries .

Perhaps the commitment to maneuver by larger, well-trained, more heavily

equipped units in a theater such as Central Europe meant a desertion of

other possible levels of commitment.74 In a sharp critique of the Army and

its attitude toward counterinsurgency operations delivered at a meeting of

the International Studies Association in March 1984, West Point instructor

Andrew F. Krepinevich, Jr., quoted Lt Gen William P. Yarborough, former

commander of the Special Warfare Center: "We didn't cope with irregular

warfare in Asia; therefore we've closed the door on it and, rather than

27
use our conventional forces . .

. . s Krepinevich disputed the claims that

the l st Special Operations Command (SOCOM) established in October

1982 at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, really could meet the demands of

counterinsurgency action. He concluded that SOCOM's units "far better

suited for the execution of economy of force operations in support of main

force Army units conducting conventional operations.

"76 General Yarborough, for his part, believed that high-ranking Army officers really thought

of special operations forces merely as commandos." Further, Krepinevich

saw the talk of lightness and swiftness of response ofthe Central Command

(CENTCOM) as garbled by the inclusion of a "dual-hat" responsibility to

speak to counterinsurgency contingencies. The historic problem was that

"dual hatting" usually meant that one role or the other would take second

place and then take successive hits to its force structure and other requirements. In short, some of the questioners acknowledged that change was

taking place; but they were less certain that it constituted progress-less

certain that it was likely to meet the real future needs of the service and

of the country.

Emphasis on maneuver appeared in Marine publications as well; and

there, too, concern developed that the appearance ofnovelty and the thrust

for a persuasive new doctrine would soon be running square into the realities of a contrary form of warfare. Writing in Marine Corps Gazette in July

1983, Michael P. Palladino urged that Marines remember "another kind

of war" such as that fought in Vietnam, asserting that "the irregular soldier

has become the warrior of the late 20th century."'$ Palladino believed that

the lessons of Vietnam were "forgotten before they were assimilated or

applied" ; and he warned of "myopia when training . . . Marines ." Highly

motivated and sensitized to the possibilities of nuclear, biological, and

chemical warfare, the Marine was nonetheless unskilled in other ways.

"What," Palladino asked, "does he do when he is called to hump through

the jungles of El Salvador chasing an elusive foe?" The problem was that

training did not encompass the range of likely wars. "Preparing Marines

to fight conventional, mobile operations in the Delta corridor at Twentynine Palms is not preparation for the most likely contingency," Palladino

added. "A Marine's physical readiness is constantly stressed; however, his

psychological conditioning is sadly ignored." And focusing attention and

training effort on what Palladino saw as less likely forms of warfare, the

Marines strengthened their chances of "reinventing the wheel" if they were

actually committed to low-intensity conflicts . "Counterinsurgency and antiterrorist techniques should be second nature," he said, "not a new experience."" Yet Patrick L. Townsend, a retired Marine major and

businessman, raised some question as to the likely pace at which Marines

would accept such advice as Palladino's. Writing in Newsweek on 30 Jan28
intentionally suicidal behavior (as distinct from improvisational self-sacrifice) as magnificent but perhaps "outdated. " 8° Clearly, however, the reluctance to train in a fashion that either Townsend or Palladino thought

necessary did not stem from a lack of zeal. It grew from a different way of

looking at the world ofwarriors and from a different sense ofthe prevailing

rules of war."

Despite the difficulties inevitably facing the services as they sought to

build the necessary forces and doctrines to meet the nation's security objectives, expressions of hope periodically arose that such problems would

be overcome when emergency became clear. In peacetime, when the services

were traditionally focusing on the strengthening of their own resources,

professions of cooperation were not always accompanied by agreement on

how best to share either the budget or mission responsibilities. At the very

highest military levels, recognition of the high priority to be attached to

cooperation was often extremely keen. Yet the enthusiasm below that level

or at high rank outside the professional military was often well below fever

pitch, until it reached those actually charged with direct combat

responsibility.

What concrete measures would ensure that periods rich with professions

of cooperative spirit did not wither into cycles of disappointment and

frustration? It may have been a modest sign of hope that discussions on

unity of command in emergencies could take place at high levels, but what

lessons were being absorbed into the functional routines, expectations, and

inclinations of the troops at large? The historical record provided little

reason to believe that peacetime differences would be suspended or resolved

in war. Dwight Eisenhower, while serving as the key military adviser to

President Truman during the era of post-World War II military reorganization, provided exactly such an assurance, noting that everything got

ironed out once the flag of war went up. His own experience in World War

II should have told him better; and later experience clearly contradicted

Eisenhower. Not alone, but surely notable, was the case of the Vietnam

War, in which provisions on command and control and other issues that

had thrived on paper before the mid-1960s were supplanted by

"adhocracy."

Strategy and tactics that win the largest attention in peacetime ought to

show up in improved performance in wartime ; and there is little reason to

expect that an actual war would escape the impact of peacetime shortcomings. In any given time, however, the persuasiveness of strategic formulation

and tactical doctrine depends on coherence and apparent relevance. Yet

such persuasiveness can itself be seductive; and added attention to the

underlying implications of such strategic and tactical ideas is critical . In

the case of AirLand Battle, for example, the attractiveness of coherence is

29
hancements in communications technology, while some in the Air Force

are concerned about the possible fragmentation of air power. And what if

this vision of present interests through analysis of the past proves inaccurate, despite its eminent coherence? A "new Vietnam" would not be

found in superficial features of jungle terrain but in the confusion and

indecision that follows the deterioration of peacetime certitudes.

Notes

1 . Carl Becker, Every ManHis Own Historian (New York: F. S. Crofts and Co., 1935). The

dialogue between the historical event and the later observer bears some similarity to the

interaction of a user and an immense data base. The data cannot speak for themselves but

are structured into some semblance of meaning by the user's choices. The seemingly endless

recombinations into which the data may be formed reflect the interests, biases, and present

knowledge of that user. It remains, in some measure, a "bootstrap" experience in which the

direction of the user's learning is potentially restricted or at least framed by assumptions.

2. The literature on the American Civil War is, simply, vast. Useful tools for exploring the

literature of the American Civil War are Robin Higham, ed., A Guide to the Sources of U.S.

Military History (Hamden, Conn. : Archon Books, 1975); and Robin Higham and Donald J.

Mrozek, A Guide to the Sources of the U.S. Military History, Supplement I (Hamden, Conn. :

Archon Books, 1981).

3. An excellent study of the debate during the post-Civil War era may be found in Russell

F. Weigley, Towards an American Army (New York: Columbia University Press, 1962). The

argument was carried on, notably, by high-level officials such as John A. Logan, a United

States senator and political boss of Illinois as well as the Republican candidate for vice

president in 1884 . A major general of volunteers in the Civil War, Logan wrote a lengthy

book titled The Volunteer Soldier ofAmerica (Chicago : R. S. Peale, 1887) in which he defended

the militia on the basis of Civil War experience . Opposing Logan was former professor of

natural philosophy at Washington University in St . Louis, major general in the regular Army,

and secretary of war after Edwin Stanton, John M. Schofield. Schofield, Forty-six Years in the

Army (New York: Century Co., 1897).

4. The classic example of reinterpretation ofsouthern institutions at the startof the twentieth

century is U. B. Phillips, Life and Labor in the Old South (Boston: Little, Brown and Co.,

1929).

5. Concerning the Franco-Prussian War and its impact on French thinking about the nature

of warfighting, see Michael Howard, The Franco-Prussian War: The German Invasion ofFrance

1870-1871 (New York: Macmillan, 1961); and Barbara Tuchman, The Guns ofAugust (New

York : Macmillan, 1962).

6. On the sharply differing ways in which World War I and its origins were assessed, see,

for example, Sidney B. Fay, The Origins ofthe World War (New York: Macmillan Co., 1928);

and Harry Elmer Barnes, The Genesis ofthe World War (New York : A. A. Knopf, 1929).

7. Paul Hendrickson, "McNamara: Specters of Vietnam," Washington Post, 10 May 1984,

B-1.

8. Ibid.

9. It is somewhat intriguing that the various armed forces, which traditionally call attention

to what they see as externally based threats to US security and use it to justify rallying in

30
gp

the 

, , 

process can easily lead to a firming of the differences between the services rather than to an

enhancement of their common ground.

10 . The quoted term comes from Richard Hofstadter's description of John C. Calhoun's

process of mind. Richard Hofstadter, The American Political Tradition andtheMen WhoMade

It (New York : A. A. Knopf, 1948).

11 . Among the guides for entering the massive literature on the Vietnam War are Joe P.

Dunn, "In Search of Lessons: The Development of a Vietnam Historiography," Parameters

9, no. 4 (1979) ; and Peter Braestrup, ed., Vietnam as History, Ten Years After the Paris Peace

Accords (Washington, D.C . : University Press of America, 1984).

Among the works in the Vietnam Studies series are James L. Collins, Jr., The Development

and Training oftheSouth Vietnamese Army, 1950-1972 (Washington, D.C . : Department of the

Army, 1975); George S. Eckhardt, Command and Control, 1950-1969 (Washington, D.C . : Department of the Army, 1974); Julian J. Ewell and Ira A. Hunt, Jr., Sharpening;the Combat

Edge: The Use of Analysis to Reinforce Military Judgment (Washington, D.C . : Department of

the Army, 1974); William B. Fulton, Riverine Operations, 1966-1969 (Washington, D.C . : Department of the Army, 1973); John H. Hay, Jr., Tactical andMateriel Innovations (Washington,

D.C. : Department of the Army, 1974); Joseph M. Heiser, Jr ., Logistic Support (Washington,

D.C. : Department of the Army, 1974); Stanley Robert Larsen and James Lawton Collins, Jr.,

Allied Participation in Vietnam (Washington, D.C.: Department of the Army, 1975); Joseph

A. McChristian, TheRole ofMilitary Intelligence, 1965-1967 (Washington, D.C. : Department

of the Army, 1974); Charles R. Myer, Division-level Communications, 1962-1973 (Washington,

D.C. : Department of the Army, 1982); Spurgeon Neal, Medical Support of the U.S. Army in

Vietnam, 1965-1970 (Washington, D.C . : Department of the Army, 1975); David Ewing Ott,

Field Artillery, 1954-1973 (Washington, D.C . : Department of the Army, 1975); Robert R.

Ploger, U.S. Army Engineers, 1965-1970 (Washington, D.C . : Department of the Army, 1974);

and LeonardB. Taylor, FinancialManagement ofthe Vietnam Conflict, 1962-1972 (Washington,

D.C. : Department of the Army, 1974).

Typical of the works produced in Indochina Monographs are Hoang Ngoc Lung, Strategy

and Tactics (Washington, D.C . : US Army Center of Military History, 1980); Cao Van Vien et

al., The U.S. Adviser (Washington, D.C . : US Army Center of Military History, 1980); and

Soutchay Vongsavanh, RLGMilitary Operations andActivities in the Laotian Panhandle(Washington, D.C . : US Army Center of Military History, 1981).

12 . Fulton and Neal .

13 . Donn A. Starry, Armored Combat in Vietnam (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill Co. Inc.,

1980).

14. Bernard C. Rogers, Cedar Falls-Junction City, A Turning Point (Washington, D.C. : Department of the Army, 1974).

15 . Dave Richard Palmer, Summonsof the Trumpet (San Rafael, Calif. : Presidio Press, 1978),

xix.

16. Harry G. Summers, Jr., On Strategy: The Vietnam War in Context (Carlisle Barracks,

Pa. : Strategic Studies Institute, US Army War College, 1981). Emblematic of the wide currency

given to Summers's arguments concerning Vietnam is "Man of the Hour," Parade magazine,

14 August 1983, 9, in which a capsule biography on Summers is coupled with a short description of his views and reference to the compatibility of On Strategy with the thinking of

Gen John Vessey, Jr., chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

17. "Man of the Hour," 9.

18 . An interesting illustration of the acceptability of Summers's work outside the Army was

its circulation to all members of the Air War College class of 1983 and to the War College's

faculty. In the particular circumstances of its circulation, the book was clearly meant not only

31
not total, endorsement of Summerss understanding of Vietnam. The assertion of a single,

central authority over the opposing side in that war was certainly convenient and comfortable

for a service that traditionally boosted the importance of centralized control and whose specific

weapons and tactical and strategic doctrine militated in favor of "war against the source" of

the problem-in this case, Hanoi and the sinews of its warmaking capability. What was thus,

in effect, a "big war" interpretation of the Vietnam conflict, as well as a simplified one, may

actually have been not only tolerable in many Air Force audiences, but especially welcome.

There remained, however, the further question of what underlying assumptions were being

accepted along with the surface support for conventional air power propositions. In keeping

the baby, perhaps they would also get stuck with the bathwater.

19. It is more supportable to argue that failing to see the extent of genuine, indigenous

hostility to the Diem regime in Saigon and its successors was far closer to the actual problem.

Even when accepting that the problems in the South were largely Saigon's responsibility and

that inability to remedy manifest defects was the enduring source of danger, US officials at

the highest levels observed that North Vietnamese involvement was the sine qua non for

guaranteeing that fighting would continue, that it might escalate, and that a mood of unrest

and instability could stand firmly against all of Washington's hopes and Saigon's professionals.

20 . Extensive material on the subject may be found in the various collections in the John

F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson Presidential Libraries. See, for example, Walt Rostow,

speech, US Army Special Warfare School, Fort Bragg, N.C ., 28 June 1961 ; Army 1961 folder,

Departmentsand Agencies Files, President's Office Files, Papers of John F. Kennedy, Kennedy

Library.

21 . It is also worth wondering exactly what Johnson would have needed to do to gain popular

support for an enhanced war effort, presumably at the expense of domestic social programs .

The mixture of optimism and criticism in American society during the 1960s meshed with

growing anger and anguish over the Vietnam War; but they preceded the emergence of the

war as the consummate public issue of the day. Moreover, the "quick-and-dirty" operation

in the Dominican Republic in 1965 played to mixed reviews, even though it was not complicated by significant resistance even from those Dominicans hostile to the US intervention .

The criticism ofJohnson for seeking to have it both ways on Vietnam and the Great Society

has some merit; what it lacks is an alternative that encompasses both tracks, each of which

Johnson perceived as a proper and even necessary course.

22 . Civilian writers such as Stephen Peter Rosen touch on some of these issues, as does

Summers. Also see Harry G. Summers, Jr., "Defense without Purpose," Transaction/Social

Science and Modern Society 21, no . 1 (November-December 1983): 4-33 .

23 . Specific expectations of what sort of war was possible and what sort of military conduct

best suited the American temperament could lead, through a long train of logic, to continued

emphasis on technological substitutes for manpower and many other traditional themes . If

one put it cynically, one might argue that it was the logic necessary to explain concentration

on strategic forces, on the rebuilding of main conventional forces, and on the enhancement

of various weapon systems for high-value areas such as Germany, as with improved attack

helicopters .

24 . Summers, On Strategy.

25 . Ibid.

26 . Drew Middleton, "U.S . Generals Are Leery of Latin Intervention," New York Times,

21 June 1983 . Among those specifically mentioned were Gen John W. Vessey, Jr., chairman

of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Gen Edward C. Meyer, then Army chiefof staff.

27 . Donn A. Starry, Mounted Combat in Vietnam (Washington, D.C . : Department of the

Army, 1978), subsequently released commercially as Armored Combat in Vietnam in nearly

32
28 . Starry.

29 . Harry G. Summers, Jr ., "Alabama and Vietnam," Montgomery Advertiser-Journal, 23

October 1983 .

30 . Frank Futrell et al., Aces & Aerial Victories : The United States Air Force in Southeast

Asia, 1965-1973, ed . James N. Eastman, Jr ., Walter Hanak, and Lawrence J. Paszek (Washington, D.C . : Office of Air Force History, 1976); and John Albright, John A. Cash, and Allan

W. Sandstrum, Seven Firefights in Vietnam (Washington, D.C. : US Army Office of the Chief

of Military History, 1970).

31 . Bernard C. Nalty, Air Power and the Fightfor Khe Sanh (Washington, D.C. : Office of

Air Force History, 1973); and Moyers S. Shore II, The Battle forKhe Sanh (Washington, D.C . :

Historical Branch, US Marine Corps, 1969).

32 . Edwin Brickford Hooper, Dean C. Allard, and Oscar P. Fitzgerald, The United States

Navy in the Vietnam Conflict, vol. 1, The Setting of the Stage to 1959 (Washington, D.C . :

Department of the Navy, 1976); Jack Shulimson, U.S. Marines in Vietnam, 1966: An Expanding

War (Washington, D.C. : History and Museums Division, Headquarters US Marine Corps,

1982); Robert F. Futrell, The Advisory Years to 1965 (Washington, D.C. : Office of Air Force

History, 1981). It is inconclusive but suggestive that the Futrell manuscript was revised to

focus more narrowly on South Vietnam instead of dealing with activities during the advisory

years on a more integrative basis throughout Southeast Asia, while Shulimson revealed the

degree to which the Marines regarded the indigenous antigovernment forces in South Vietnam

as a real "player" in the war even after the introduction of main force combat units of the

North Vietnamese Army (NVA).

33 . Jack S. Ballard, Development andEmployment ofFixed-Wing Gunships 1962-1972 (Washington, D.C . : Office of Air Force History, 1982); William A. Buckingham, Jr., Operation Ranch

Hand: The Air Force and Herbicides in Southeast Asia 1961-1971 (Washington, D.C. : Office

of Air Force History, 1982).

34. Momyer; and U. S. Grant Sharp, Strategy for Defeat, Vietnam in Retrospect (San Rafael,

Calif. : Presidio Press, 1978).

35 . Although Momyer is open for some challenge and perhaps criticism for what seems a

single-minded devotion to a quite conservative vision of air power and a somewhat confined

version of wars suited to American characteristics and resources, he cannot be similarly faulted

for his lack of enthusiasm for limited war theories. Perhaps less grief would have been caused

had the wealth of historical practice in limited war been given even half the attention lavished

on theory .

36. Specialized works from certain Air Force sources laid claim to respect for their professional achievements, while avoiding the pit of mere self-flattery. See, for example, Charles K.

Hopkins, SAC Tanker Operations in the Southeast Asia War (Offutt AFB, Nebr. : Office of the

Historian, Headquarters Strategic Air Command, 1979). At roughly the same time, however,

a few works began to appear which, while acknowledging the achievements of Air Force and

other service personnel, implicitly accepted that learning from the events of the war could

well require going beyond serving as a cheering section to providing a measure of constructive

criticism. See, for example, Alan L. Gropman, Airpower and the Evacuation of Kham Duc

(Maxwell AFB, Ala. : Airpower Research Institute, 1979); and, especially, John J. Lane, Jr.,

Command and Control and Communications Structures in Southeast Asia (Maxwell AFB, Ala. :

Airpower Research Institute, 1981). Still, such works concentrated on what air power assets

could do, how they could be employed effectively, and what structures were needed to use

them purposefully and efficiently. The comprehensive principles of war abided in the background, perhaps; but they did so largely as guides to assessing air power and its applications

more than as ways of understanding air power's broader place in interactive relationship with

33
37 . Sharp.

38 . Drew Middleton, "Vietnam and the Military Mind," New York Times Magazine, 10

January 1982.

39 . Ibid.

40 . Ibid.

41 . Middleton, "U.S . Generals Are Leery of Latin Intervention." Ironically, such measures

also had attracted favorable interest from such opponents of the Vietnam War as Senator J.

William Fulbright.

42 .Ibid. '

43 . George C. Wilson, "Top U.S . Brass Wary on Central America," Washington Post, 24

June 1983 .

44 . "Army chief assures limited role for U.S .," Washington Times, 9 August 1983 .

45 . Ibid.

46 . T. R. Milton, "The Lessons of Vietnam," Air Force Magazine, March 1983, 106.

47 . T. R. Milton, "Don't Let the Marines Be Sitting Ducks," Colorado Springs Sun, 12

December 1983, 20.

48 . Ibid.

49 . Ibid.

50. Richard Halloran, "For Military Leaders, the Shadow of Vietnam," New York Times

Magazine, 20 March 1984, 12 .

51 . The literature on Airland Battle is considerable; these are only a sampling of expositions

and commentaries on the subject: US Army Training and Doctrine Command, "AirLand

Battle 2000," 4 September 1981, Fort Monroe, Va. ; US Army Training and Doctrine Command, "AirLand Battle 2000," 10 August 1982, Fort Monroe, Va. ; US Army Science Board,

Report of Panel on theFuture Development Goal (Washington, D.C . : Department of the Army,

1983); Lt Gen William R. Richardson, "Training for Maneuver Warfare," Armor 90 (JulyAugust 1981): 31-34; Phillip A. Karber, "The Growing Armor/Anti Armor Imbalance in

Central Europe," ArmedForces Journal international 118 (July 1981): 37-40; Defense Nuclear

Agency, "Analysis of Some Alternative Tactical Nuclear Doctrines for the US/NATO Corps

in the Airland Battle" (Washington, D.C . : 1 December 1981); William G. Hanne, "Airland

Battle and the Operational Maneuver Group" (Carlisle Barracks, Pa. : US Army Strategic

Studies Institute, 16 May 1983); David Hamilton, "Close Air Support and Battlefield Air

Interdiction in the Airland Battle" (Fort Leavenworth, Kans. : May 1983); Roderick J. Isler,

"The Airland Battle-Command, Control and Communications Countermeasures (C3 CM)

Integration," Research Report (Maxwell AFB, Ala. : Air Command and Staff College, March

1982); Joseph R. Redden, "Airland Battle-the Global Doctrine?" (Carlisle Barracks, Pa. : US

Army War College, 1983); "AirLand Battle Doctrine," Art of War Colloquium (Carlisle Barracks, Pa.: US Army War College, June 1983); John R. Landry et al., "Strategic and Doctrinal

Implications of DeepAttack Concepts for the Defense of Europe" (Washington, D.C. : National

War College, April 1983).

52 . Again, given the different characteristics of the several services, the interplay between

the Army and the Air Force inevitably had to be major-perhaps more so than between the

Army and the Navy and Marines-because of the need to allocate responsibility in such

matters as close air support and interdiction . Just to define such terms, let alone establish

patterns of command and control, was to enter a bothersomely sensitive border area where

the missions and aspirations of the services sometimes seemed to overlap.

53. "AirLand Battle 2000 ."

54. Maxwell D. Taylor, The Uncertain Trumpet (New York: Harper, 1960); Theodore C.

Mataxis and Seymour L. Goldberg, Nuclear Tactics, Weapons, and Firepower in the Pentomic

Division, Battle Group, andCompany (Harrisburg, Pa. : Military Service Publishing Co., 1958).

34
prepared by the US Army Military History Research Institute, Carlisle Barracks, Pa.

57 . Testimony of Lt Gen William W. Dick, Jr ., in Senate, Committee on Armed Services

and Subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations, Hearings on Military Procurement

Authorizations for Fiscal Year 1967, 89th Cong., 2d sess ., 10 March 1966, 555-56, 558, 563,

564.

58 . Testimony of Gen Wallace M. Greene, Jr., in Senate, Committee on Armed Services

and Subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations, Hearings on Military Procurement

Authorizations for Fiscal Year 1967, 89th Cong., 2d sess ., 24 March 1966, 671-73 .

59. Testimony of Gen John P. McConnell in Senate, Committee on Armed Services and

Subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations, Hearings on Military Procurement Authorizationsfor Fiscal Year 1968, 90th Cong., 1 st sess., 2 February 1967, 897.

60. Some observers have orally considered the thought that TAC's willingness to be cooperative in the Air Force "interface" with AirLand Battle was related to the compatibility

between a preference in TAC for substantially autonomous operation and the Army's desire

to have more influence over targeting and mission execution as the area of contact with the

enemy came closer to areas of interest to ground forces . The compatibility stemmed in part

from what TAC would be willing to "get rid of," less as a matter of concession for the sake

of cooperation than from a lack of interest and commitment to certain nonautonomous missions. It also stemmed in part from the Army's willingness to cover some of its own aerial

firepower requirements and, some hinted, from the Army's eagerness to press forward with

its new helicopters and perhaps moderately larger fixed-wing aircraft .

61 . James A. Machos, "Air-Land Battles or AirLand Battle?" Military Review 63, no . 7 (July

1983): 33-40. Machos was also a graduate of the US Army Command and General Staff

College, and he had been an exchange officerwith the Luftwaffe; he also served with the 474th

Tactical Fighter Wing at Nellis AFB, Nev.

62 . Ibid., 34 .

63 . Ibid., 36 .

64 . Ibid., 36-37.

65 . Ibid., 37 . -

66 . Ibid., 38-39.

67. Col Thomas A. Cardwell III, USAF, "One Step Beyond-AirLand Battle, Doctrine not

Dogma," Military Review 64, no. 4 (April 1984): 46.

68 . Ibid., 48 .

69 . Ibid.

70 . The concept of "way of war" is central to Russell F. Weigley, The American Way ofWar

(New York: Macmillan, 1973). The concept might serve as a useful analytical device for

suggesting the way in which deep-seatedattitudes have undergirded the more visible arguments

over budgetary and other matters.

71 . Michael R. Gordon, "The Army's Air-Land Battle Doctrine Worries Allies, Upsets the

Air Force," National Journal, 18 June 1983, 1274-77.

72 . Ibid ., 1274 .

73 . Ibid ., 1275 .

74 . The term moreheavily equipped, which would seem to contradict the Army'sdevelopment

of light divisions in the 1980s, is not intended in such a contradicting way but only as a

description of size and armament relative to counterinsurgency forces .

75 . Andrew F. Krepinevich, Jr., "The Army Counterinsurgency Operations : `Plus Ca

Change . . ." (Paper delivered at the 25th annual meeting of the International Studies Association, 27-31 March 1984, Atlanta, Ga.), 9.

76. Ibid., 10-I1.

77. Ibid ., 9.

3 5
(March 1983): 1718.

79 . Ibid.

80 . Patrick L. Townsend, "The Marines' Weak Spot," Newsweek, 30 January 1984 .

81 . In a sense, the term rules of war is somewhat deceptive; Townsend and others would

surely not suggest that an agreed code of conduct in war even existed. What had happened,

rather, was that traditional standards-those developed over time among military professionals as a matter of gradually accepted custom-had been abruptly impeached by ardent

fighters whose standards differed in essential ways. In such an environment, testing one's

individual conduct against a known general code is likely to be threatened-perhaps supplanted-by the mere observation of the actual conduct of one's various opponents so as to

establish a relevant protective attitude and habit.

36
INTERPRETING VIETNAM:

SCHOOL SOLUTIONS

An important vehicle through which the Air Force and the other services

express their view of the world around them and their sense of the future

is a system of professional military education. This system includes, most

notably, the established schools that serve to train, indoctrinate, and, less

often, educate officers in those areas deemed important by the faculties of

the institutions and their supervising authorities. What is included within

the curriculum of a given school does not necessarily indicate precisely

what a service thinks, but it is a clue to what is on the minds of many

within that service-a certification of things worth thinking about. In this

sense, how a curriculum is structured indicates what "really matters" to a

service-what is supposed to be crucial to the officers at the level of rank

targeted by the given school . The various curricula of the several schoolsranging from squadron level through staff school to war college for Air

Force officers-provide some hint of what sort of war is envisioned as the

most serious, most likely, or most suited to a service's capabilities .

How the services constructed educational and training programs for officers in the later years of the Vietnam War and after the defeat of the

Saigon regime helps to explain how certain lacunae-missing elementsappeared in the military's, interpretation of the Vietnam experience . Each

service had its own angle of entry into explaining what happened in Vietnam, partly because a key problem for any observer was not just what

happened in Southeast Asia generally but what happened to one's own

service while it was deployed there. Thus, inevitably, the special historical

development and tradition of each service tended to condition the kind of

experience it had in Vietnam. Although the services approached handling

the Vietnam experience in somewhat different ways, they handled it with

similar tools. One such tool was the apparatus of professional military

education.

Learning at Leavenworth

Perhaps no school in the professional military education system may be

regarded as "typical." The US Army Command and General Staff College,

37
members of other services who had served in Southeast Asia without having

been stationed in South Vietnam (indeed, some of them never set foot on

Vietnamese soil), Army officers often had close associations with Vietnamese officers. Deep and positive feelings for the land in which they fought

were not uncommon. The personal stakes of the war were high-painfully

so as US efforts came to naught with the collapse of the Saigon regime in

1975 . One can only speculate as to whether the sense of loss was greater

in one service or another and whether that sense contributed to a desire

to come to grips with what had happened or to enter a period of denial

and avoidance . What did seem to emerge at Leavenworth was an underlying

taste for a clear and uncompromised message . If the Army was in need of

rebuilding, let there be no confusion as to the architecture of its future .

Whether the Army could learn from Vietnam presupposed that it had some

sense of what had happened there-some reasonably coherent vision that

provided a common ground from which to mine lessons for future operations . In the face of uncertainties about Vietnam itself and in a period

when the ongoing war presented knotty political problems for the military,

it is not surprising that such a common ground proved difficult to identify.

Instead, in 1972-73, the 38-week course of the US Army Command and

General Staff College (CGSC) was dominated by scenarios derived from

the NATO region and from concentration on staff skills and procedures.

Vietnam was explicitly included in only a very few of the 1,430 academic

hours that comprised the total course.' (The most prominent hypothetical

case of insurgency was placed in Venezuela.) Limited war was defined in

terms of Korea; and, despite its critical importance to Israel's survival, the

Arab-Israeli War of 1967 was used as an additional limited war case study.

Low-intensity conflict slipped below the attention of the course and curriculum designers, due in part to the perceived need to familiarize students

with operations and staff work at corps and army levels. Although this

emphasis can be praised as transcending mere pressures of the moment, it

also represented an incipient interpretation of Vietnam as essentially a

conventional war. At the same time, CGSC saw Vietnam as largely a

"botched job," "not much of a war," and no worthy source of lessons for

the future . Specific course topics and themes sharpened this leaning toward

war "beyond the jungles ." The rhetoric and dynamics of counterinsurgency

fell on even harder times. 2

"Special weapons" remained the code for nuclear, biological, and chemical (NBC) weapons; and the purpose of discussing them was to promote

"defensive planning of a mechanized division ."' Also, although the description of the course in tactics, "principles and doctrine pertaining to . . .

tactical employment of Army divisions (except airborne)," was suited to

the mission of the school and the rank of its students, it actually reinforced

38

the vision of a proper and perhaps preferred war as one that differed manifestly from the enterprise in Southeast Asia.4 When Southeast Asia appeared in the curriculum, it was more likely to do so as a locus of

administrative issues than of combat lessons. In the course on Leadership

and Management (Course 2), for example, Southeast Asia was mined for

examples of how drug abuse and racial tensions constituted environmental

factors at all levels of command.' On the basis of actual experience, comparable illustrations could easily have been taken from NATO settings. One

can only wonder whether the decision to use Vietnam as the example of

poor discipline affected perceptions of the war itself.

The largest course-unit comprehensively devoted to issues related to insurgency and low-intensity conflict dealt with security assistance and its

validation within the curriculum derived from its supporting CGSC's mis40
generically; and the principal methods for handling local and regional prob

lems remained those with seemingly worldwide applicability, even though

familiarity with local context was essential for the most effective employment of those methods. The notion that "orientation" might be fundamental rather than incidental appears to have attracted little support.

During the succeeding decade, the emphasis given to insurgency and the

specifics of dealing with low-intensity conflict fluctuated somewhat from

year to year, but the importance given to them never approached the level

given to more highly orchestrated warfare of a conventional or nuclear sort .

That low-intensity conflict was actually high-stakes warfare gained support

among specialists, but it was a difficult argument to make throughout the

armed forces or even throughout the Army. The Security Assistance course

offered by the CGSC Department of Strategy did attempt to provide a

history of insurgencies and their organization, and to compare current and

potential cases where nation-building and insurgency could be seen in competition . But the concerns advanced in this course do not appear to have

been reflected in courses on staff operations, leadership and management,

tactics, and logistics (offered by the departments of Command, Tactics, and

Logistics) . To this extent, the efforts by the Department of Strategy may

have appeared somewhat as ideas lacking the firm anchor of institutionalized material support. Similarly, although there was some effort to bring

to Fort Leavenworth speakers who could suggest alternate "strategies for

the 1970s" (Roger Hilsman and George Ball, for example), residual antipathy toward speakers seen as compromised by their relationship to events

in Vietnam probably undermined the authority of their presentations.'

In the 1974-75 and 1975-76 academic years at CGSC, Vietnam explicitly

made its way into the curriculum, albeit in a comparatively modest fashion.

Vietnam was the object ofa two-hour case study within the comprehensive

course in strategic studies in the first of those years; and in the second, the

Vietnam experience was included within a course on "Tactical Lessons of

20th Century Wars."' Still, compared to the overwhelming bulk of studies

officially sanctioned in the CGSC curriculum, insurgency and low-intensity

conflict appeared to be the secondary players. Vietnam itself also appears

to have been a difficult topic to place suitably within formal studies.

Course content at CGSC in 1976-77 included both new and old components, yet the trend did not favor a focus on the issues embedded in the

Vietnam experience . Security Assistance and Unconventional Warfare were

retained within the general course, Studies in Low-Intensity Conflict . Unconventional Warfare also continued -as a specialized elective while Procedures for Conduct of Air-Land Battle (Course 1602) reached the status

of a full course . In all, this largely evolutionary process within the official

curriculum continued in 1977-78; and synthesizing innovations such as

41
conflict made its way into official descriptions ofthe CGSC program. From

one perspective, the evolution suggested that interest in conventional warfare concerns overbalanced the interest in low-intensity conflict, even without having fully attended to the latter as experienced in Vietnam.' By 1978-

79, low-intensity conflict had lost some of its separate identity and was

subsumed under the Joint, Combined, and Special Operations course. A

limited opportunity to search the recent past for relevant historical lessons

survived in Evolution of Twentieth Century Tactics, which was embedded

within the Applied Military History course. Courses that suggested irregular

forms of conflict-the course on terrorism introduced in 1978-79, for example-actually reflected concerns over the NATO region, the Middle East,

and other areas where conventional capabilities could be threatened by

terrorist action. Concern over terrorism was tied appreciably, if not exclusively, to a concern over conventional forces . 10

The CGSC curriculum during the 1970s did not suggest a strong official

commitment to analyzing Vietnam. In fact, the official emphasis on matters

other than Vietnam, low-intensity conflict, and insurgency created the very

real possibility that a gap would develop between course content and student interests . One example : in spring 1975, the official CGSC program

included a seminar on officer responsibility. Special guest participants included representatives from the press and electronic media, from universities, from the clergy, and from various constituent groups. As the seminar

progressed, the Army officer-students drew an increasingly specific focus

on Vietnam and its enigmas . This tendency, evidently driven by the personal experiences of the officers, was immensely strengthened by the military and political collapse of South Vietnam, which occurred during the

same days as the seminar. Discussion in formal settings, as well as outside

them, attended to little other than Vietnam; and fragmentary information

suggests that this general discrepancy between official interest and student

interest appeared in varying degrees throughout the 1970s.

In the early 1980s, as the Army began to develop a view of the Vietnam

experience that made it seem less enigmatic, CGSC gave somewhat greater

formal recognition to Vietnam. And since professional military educational

programs tend to be shaped by a perception of what is important, the

increased visibility of Vietnam as an object of formal study evidenced its

pertinence to the Army's present business rather than its merely having

retracted far enough into the past to be a "safe" area. In the 1982-83

program, Case Studies in US Military Intervention since 1898 explicitly

included consideration of Vietnam; History of Air Warfare was partly devoted to air power's relevance to Vietnam; and-more broadly-emphasis

on events, forces, and personalities that influenced the Army received for

mal sanction ." CGSC saw the official organization of the Combat Studies

42
that had been important to the development of the Army-even events

that were challenging to doctrine.'z This is not to say that the Army's embrace of history as a discipline or Vietnam as a lesson was unqualified ; but

it did suggest that, at least to some extent, the discrepancy between formally

and actually important issues was lessened . A course on The American

Experience in Vietnam appeared in the curriculum for 1983-84-hardly

dominating the attentions of faculty and students, but at least taking a

place among various important forces that had shaped the Army.

13 On the

other hand, CSI's specialized studies did not include analyses dealing with

Vietnam. If emphasis placed on specific kinds of forces and force structures

was something of a pendulum, it still had not swung away from interest in

heavier units. Vietnam's real importance lay in its detrimental effect on an

educational enterprise still concentrating on heavy regular units and on the

status of units stationed in high-value areas such as Europe.

14

In retrospect, one may detect phases in CGSC's treatment of Vietnam.

Even while the war in Vietnam was a pressing problem, it lacked official

endorsement as a high-priority issue worthy of study on its own terms.

Only gradually did Vietnam receive an official place in the curriculumand then because the United States government began to give serious consideration to possible involvements in countries where low-intensity and

irregular-force scenarios were likely. What remained uncertain during the

early 1980s was whether any new involvements could be based firmly on

local conditions.

Spreading the Word

The promulgation of official and quasi-official viewpoints within the

schools was complemented by the work ofmilitaryjournals, usually resident

at forts and bases where the schools were located . These publications provided a kind of extension program to a wider and more diverse community

interested in defense matters. In publications such as the Naval WarCollege

Review, the Army War College's Parameters, and the Air University Review,

military and civilian writers have sought to learn some lessons from the

past, make sense out of the present, and get some grasp on the future.

Disclaimers are standard fare, emphasizing that all opinions expressed are

the opinions of the authors alone. These journals nevertheless provided an

indication of what editorial boards, advisers, and journal staffs regarded

as worthwhile issues . Approval of an essay for publication qualified as a

kind of tentative endorsement of the worth of the argument, even if it did

not necessarily mean agreement with it .

From the end of US combat participation in the Vietnam War through

43
counterinsurgency or low-intensity conflict ; and few related explicitly to

the recent Vietnam War. For example, only one of 37 full-length articles

published in the Naval War College Review from mid-1972 through mid1973 dealt with Vietnam-and then largely in the context of legal responsibility for actions taken by one's subordinates." Three articles dealt in

detail with issues pertaining to low-intensity conflict or to irregular warfare,

but these did not always concentrate on Vietnam as a source of information. ' 6 The preponderance of articles ranged over such issues as the defense

budget, management techniques and policy, civil-military relations in other

countries, and international law and the law of the sea . Breadth and diversity were considerable, and the "long view" on important issues was

clearly present . If a problem might be cited, perhaps it was difficulty in

gaining a dispassionate long view on so close an experience as Vietnam."

The subsequent year's offerings were directed largely toward strategic

issues such as the oil crisis, assessment of Soviet military policy, professionalism in the military, the prospects of a multipolar world after the

1980s, and possible instability in the balance of power among the major

states. Only one article explicitly dealt with Vietnam: Rear Adm James B.

Stockdale's reflections on his experience as a prisoner of war." Explicit

reference to Vietnam in the journal's mid-1974 through mid-1975 issues

came in an article on motivation among US prisoners of war held in North

Vietnam during the war. ' 9 Figures of some note during the Vietnam War

contributed essays, though not focused on that experience: Walt W. Rostow

returned to themes of political economy and scarcity ; and Philip Geyelin,

editorial commentator for the Washington Post, discussed the role of the

press in American society . 2°

A number of articles published in the Naval War College Review from

mid-1975 through mid-1976 focused on defense issues related to detente

and on broad issues of military professionalism. Examples are Helmut

Sonnenfeldt's "The Meaning of `Detente"' (Summer 1975) and Dale R.

Herspring's "The Effect of Detente on Professionalism and Political Control in the East German Army" (Winter 1976). But the largest single group

of articles studied specific cases and incidents, ranging from the US naval

presence in the Middle East through citizen participation in the Swedish

army to the relationship of the Cuban missile crisis of 1962 to the development of Soviet naval forces. 2 ' Only two of31 full-length articles pertained

to low-intensity conflict or to Southeast Asia.

In the Naval War College Review's 29th volume, from mid-1976 through

mid-1977, the Vietnam War made a limited appearance with an articlelength commentary on Gareth Porter's A Peace Denied and an essay on

national security models with reference to the Vietnam experience. 22 But

four articles dealt explicitly with the emergence of the Soviet navy as a

44
resource's potential vulnerability." Of over 165 articles from mid-1977

through mid-1980, only three dealt with Vietnam in a major way-and

these on the suitability of the code ofconduct and on prisoner of war issues .

If anything, direct and frontal treatment of the Vietnam War and issues

directly stemming from it had declined . Moreover, although regional problems and their security implications received generous attention, there appeared to be no increase of interest in specialized methods that might be

received in those areas. The focus was still essentially on the "big picture"-

the very big picture .

If any one theme did stand out, beyond the °understandable interest in

current and likely future responsibilities, it was the focus on naval issues .

In this, the Naval War College Review was substantially like its counterparts

produced by the other services. By the end of the 1970s, for example, the

Air University Review was publishing occasional essays on aspects of the

Vietnam War; and a few Air University Review authors made use of events

in the Vietnam conflict to illustrate their arguments about other regions

or about specific topical matters.24

Also, like its counterpart journals, the Naval War College Review saw

something of a movement "back to the basics ." Although this was exemplified by an occasional piece on such hallowed strategic theorists as Alfred

Thayer Mahan and Carl von Clausewitz, it was much more frequently

presented in articles on the basic issues those theorists raised .25 Traditional

perspectives on war and precepts for its conduct were staging a comeback.

Although the works of Clausewitz do not support a unitary vision of war

and can easily encompass great diversity in tactics and methods, the resort

to Clausewitz's formulations suggested a reassertion ofthe worth of professional military experience and of the trustworthiness of professional military judgment. Such a restoration of self-confidence was more than

welcome. The question was whether it would ask too much of other official

constituencies-or of the public on whose support the military would ultimately have to depend.

Training and Learning

To the extent that common ground appeared among the services on the

meaning ofthe recent past, it included an overwhelming interest in method

and technique . The reassertion of professional expertise thus took a largely

traditional tack, aiming to identify principles and placing great emphasis

on the integrity of military operations. This approach also sharpened the

seeming attention to standard procedure and paralleled the underlying preference to play one's strong suit.

45
were these notions confined to the military; numerous constituencies, both

in and out of the defense community, made their separate peace with the

events of the 1960s and 1970s. The underlying question was whether any

genuine "learning" had occurred-certainly with respect to Southeast Asia

and, perhaps, even more broadly.

In the schools of professional military education, the question was

whether what was actually being accomplished was closer to reinforcement

of doctrine or to training. In a lecture delivered at the Naval War College

and published in the November-December 1973 issue of the Naval War

College Review, Philip A. Crowl charted the relationship of education and

training in the Navy's senior school between 1884 and 1972 . 26 The issues

Crowl identified had parallels in the higher schools of the other services

as well, Among the most visible, and surely most enduring, was the intent

of the whole enterprise. Apart from suspicions that the college was unduly

elitist, its critics had tended to regard the school as excessively committed

to broad philosophical concerns rather than practical ones. William S. Sims,

for example, an aggressive and remarkedly gifted young officer who later

served as president of the Naval War College, was less than eager to be

assigned there as a student. He wrote to his wife in 1911 : "It may even be

that things will blow over to such an extent that I may get some duty I

would like better-something in closer touch with practice and less on the

theoretical side. "

Alfred Thayer Mahan, the most effective exploiter of historical experience in support of the US emergence as a naval power, was once asked by

two other officers if the college's instructors were "going to do anything

practical ." When Mahan asked them to define the term, the answer was:

"Well, torpedo boats and launches-and that sort of thing.

"2a As Crowl

points out, these sentiments mark the major controversy running through

a century of professional military education .

Reduced to its essence . . . it is broad-gauged, liberal education versus training

in technical skills-it is strategic-level education versus basic professional training-it is the preparation of officers for the remote contingencies of naval and

military leadership versus preparing them for the immediate responsibilities of

their next tour of duty.z 9

The Naval War College, like the other senior service schools, shifted

emphasis from time to time. Several factors account for the attractiveness

of one emphasis over another in any given period. In the midtwentieth

century, one of the most critical factors was the diversification and pro46
such as computer science emerged. The expansion of knowledge was occurring at such a rate that it virtually became a qualitatively different force.

By the middle of the nineteenth century, the expectation that prevailing

wisdom would be supplanted by new knowledge within a short time increased sharply. Even in the influential realm of theoretical physics, new

models for explaining the cosmos appeared with unsettling frequency . 3° One

of the casualties, in the end, was much of the old certitude in military

verities .

The proliferation of branches of knowledge and their acceptance as legitimate fields in their own right created a dilemma in military education

no less than in civilian education: the task of determining what constituted

the core oflearning appropriate for the well-educated officer was obscured,

just as the proliferation of disciplines in civilian institutions ate away the

very concept of a liberal education." The Naval War College elevated specialized areas into autonomous fields. Among the college's 13 special military

chairs founded in 1969, for example, were those devoted to airstrike warfare,

surface strike warfare, and amphibious operations. The final concern, allowing for the praise one might give to the desire to be thorough, was that the

program suffered from "the superficiality of its coverage of most of the

material pertaining to international relations, economics, sociology, et

cetera. . . ."3z

The return of interest in such military theorists as Mahan, Clausewitz,

and Thucydides marked an effort to redress an imbalance on the technical

side. In his December 1972 convocation address, Naval War College President Stansfield Turner rejected an excessive focus on "the brief period of

military strategy since the close of World War II," suggesting that too narrow a view and too thin a cut would leave the military rootless ." In the

end, then, the test of real accomplishment in learning was not the acquisition ofa whole range of skills whose relevance would swiftly be overtaken

by still newer technological advancements. It was, instead, the transformation ofunderstanding and the enhancement of sensitivity in the officers

who passed through the college . It was, to be sure, the highest test ; in civilian

institutions, only a minority of students passed it .

The return to historical perspective was something ofa mark of progress,

at least for some observers; but the real challenge was to give some concrete

meaning to this process of appreciating the present through the vantages

offered by the past. Just as recent experiences in which one has been deeply

involved may seem extraordinarily rich and complex with possible meanings, so can historical experiences long removed from the present retain a

tremendous openness to new understanding and reinterpretation . If one

discovers nuances of understanding about the past in recent experience,

47
seemed to be reciprocally connected? Where was the firm ground? Establishing a concrete meaning for the past-and for military tradition-provided some hint of what a return to "the basics" might actually mean for

the armed services and for defense more broadly.

The goals ofthe Naval War College, for example, as it undertook revision

ofthe curriculum in strategy, emphasized the importance of affecting each

student in a profound way. The curriculum had been revised "to enhance

the student's ability to think analytically and express himself cogently by

allowing him to examine key issues of military history in the give and take

ofthe seminar room.

"3° The use ofhistorical perspective was intended "not

so much as a means to derive certain `principles,' but rather as a means to

view controversial issues more objectively and dispassionately."" Such high

goals, however, depended not only on the goodwill of the faculty and students but also-perhaps to a perilous degree-on the level of prior preparation and on a host of inclinations and predispositions brought into the

study. The methodology for achieving the high goals ofthe new curriculum

in strategy included a sharp turn away from lectures (167 hours under the

previous curriculum versus 75 under the new one), a 250-percent increase

in required reading, a sextupling of the total writing requirement, and the

introduction of written examinations aimed at synthesizing the product of

reading and discussion .

16 Still, the challenge remained a personal onehowwould the individual student coming from a hectic assignment respond

to all that "spare" time?3 ' The question was what specific interpretative

meaning drawn from the past would be attached to present problems.

In the end, it was not clear that the schools and the publications had

had sufficient appropriate impact to ensure that a real breakthrough had

taken place. The emphasis on techniques by which to cope with problems

or through which to manage them may have left inadequate room for ways

of resolving them. Howto handle problems constituted a body ofknowledge

and skills surely worth knowing; but a deeper issue was to identify what

the problems really were-to seek out the "problem beneath the problem,"

lest one be condemned to treating symptoms rather than their governing

causes . To the extent that a deeper learning took place, it would likely have

shown itself in a measured and somewhat detached assessment of current

troubles that minimized the impulse to see them as unprecedented. But to

the extent that techniques for putting out the flares of conflict before they

widened into major war predominated, the threshold ofa deeper education

of one's self and one's service would not yet have been crossed; and school

solutions could become part of a broader problem, even though the interpretation of the past which they embodied gave deceptive short-term aid

and comfort to those whom it touched.

48
1 . The entire course of 1,712 hours also included in-processing, out-processing, commandant's time, physical conditioning, and open time. Materials describing the CGSC curriculum

include annual CGSC catalogs, programs of instruction (POIs), and after-action reports from

course instructors. These are available through the Library, US Army Command and General

Staff College, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas (hereafter cited as CGSC Library).

2. US Army CGSC Catalog, 1972-73, RB-1001-1, CGSC Library. Discussion of US policy

toward Cambodia, including the 1970 "incursion" and the overthrow of Prince Norodom

Sihanouk, centered on the decisionmaking process in Washington but not on fighting in the

countryside involving such groups as the Khmer Rouge. The concept of wars of national

liberation received some mention in a course on the Military Strategies of the People's Republic of China, POI R5330, CGSC Library.

3. POI R1306, Tactical Operations in the NBC Environment, CGSC Library, 19 .

4. POI R3000, Tactics, CGSC Library.

5. POI R2035, Leadership-The Environment, CGSC Library.

6. POI R7270, The Military Adviser, CGSC Library; for related information see, POI R7320,

Security Assistance Program, CGSC Library.

7. Course offerings are described in the US Army CGSC Catalog, 1973-74.

8. US Army CGSC Catalog, 1974-75, 1975-76. Among the texts used for the course in

"Tactical Lessons . . ." was Seven Firefights in Vietnam, released by the Army's Office of the

Chiefof Military History (subsequently Center of Military History); and special attention was

given to John A. Cash's essay, "Fight at Ia Drang."

9. US Army CGSC Catalog, 1977-78.

10. Ibid ., 1978-79; also see, P613, "Evolution of Twentieth Century Tactics."

11 . USArmy CGSC Catalog, 1982-83, especially courses A626 and A835.

12 . Ibid., 1978-79; see also, USArmy CGSC Catalog, 1978-79; P613, "Evolution of Twentieth Century Tactics," 1-10 .

13 . Ibid ., 1983-84, especially course A628.

14 . Informal conversations, Combat Studies Institute personnel, 7 December 1983 .

15 . Lt Col Franklin A. Hart, "Yamashita, Nuremberg and Vietnam," Naval War College

Review 25 (September-October 1972).

16 . Lt Col Harold D. Gallagher, "Combat Support in Wars of National Liberation," Naval

War College Review 25 (September-October 1972); Lyman B. Kirkpatrick, Jr., "Paramilitary

Case Study-The Bay of Pigs," Naval War College Review 25 (November-December 1972);

Lt Col Earl F. Pierson, "The United States Role in Counterinsurgency," Naval War College

Review 25 (January-February 1973).

17 . Lest the line of discussion here seem completely unfair, it is worth noting that "distance"

comes primarily from attitude, stance, and disposition rather than from the passage of time .

Similarly, one can retain a highly biased view despite the passage of time.

18 . Rear AdmJames B. Stockdale, "Experiences As a POWin Vietnam," Naval War College

Review 26 (January-February 1974).

19 . Comdr Robert J. Naughton, "Motivational Factors of American Prisoners of War Held

by the Democratic Republic of Vietnam," Naval War College Review 26 (January-February

1975).

20. Walt W. Rostow, "Political Economy in a Time of Scarcity : Or Howto Get from Here

to There," Naval War College Review 27 (September-October 1974); Philip Geyelin, "The

Role of the Press in an Open Society," Naval War College Review 27 (March-April 1975).

21 . Helmut Sonnenfeldt, "The Meaningof `Detente,"' Naval War CollegeReview 18 (Summer

1975); Dale R. Herspring, "The Effect of Detente on Professionalism and Political Control

in the East Germany Area," Naval War College Review 28 (Winter 1976); Comdr Peter W.

DeForth, "U.S. Naval Presence in the Persian Gulf. The Mideast Force since World War II,"

49
Review 18 (Fall 1975); Lt Comdr Harlan K. Ullman, The Cuban Missile Crisis and Soviet

Naval Development: Myths and Realities," Naval War College Review 28 (Winter 1976) .

22. Lt Col Jean Sauvageot, "A Peace Denied: The United States, Vietnam and the Paris

Agreements," Naval War College Review 29 (Winter 1977) ; Lt Col Huntley E. Shelton, "National Security Models and Vietnam," Naval War College Review 29 (Spring 1977) .

23 . On the Soviet navy, see Lt Comdr William R. Hynes, "The Role of the Kiev in Soviet

Naval Operations," Naval War College Review 29 (Fall 1976) ; David J. Kenney, "A Primer on

S. G. Gorshkov's Sea Power and the State," Naval War College Review 29 (Spring 1977);

Thomas R. Madddx, "United States-Soviet Naval Relations in the 1930's : The Soviet Union's

Efforts to Purchase Naval Vessels," Naval War College Review 29 (Fall 1976); Uri Ra'anan,

"The Soviet View of Navies in Peacetime," Naval War College Review 29 (Summer 1976) .

Concerning Middle Eastern affairs, see Robert O. Freedman, "Soviet Policy toward the Middle

East since the October 1973 Arab-Israeli War," Naval War College Review 29 (Fall 1976) ; Maj

Robert H. McKenzie-Smith, "Crisis Decisionmaking in Israel: The Case of the October 1973

Middle East War," Naval War College Review 29 (Summer 1976) ; James P. Piscatori, "Saudi

Arabia and the Law of the Sea," Naval War College Review 29 (Spring 1977); David A. Rosenberg, "The U.S . Navy and the Problem of Oil in a Future War," Naval War College Review

29 (Summer 1976).

24. See, for example, Joe P. Dunn, "Reflections on Vietnam: The Lessons?" Air University

Review 31, no . 1 (November-December 1979): 102-6; Capt Earl H. Tilford, Jr., "Search and

Rescue in Southeast Asia, 1961-1965," Air University Review 31, no. 2 (January-February

1980) : 60-74; Donald J. Alberts, "Tactical Air Power within NATO," Air University Review

31, no. 3 (March-April 1980) : 59-70; Lt Col George M. Hall, Jr., "When Honor Conflicts

with Duty," Air University Review 31, no . 6 (September-October 1980): 45-60.

25. See, for example, Edward A. Thibault, "War As a Collapse of Policy : A Critical Evaluation of Clausewitz," Naval War College Review 25 (May-June 1973) ; Norman H. Gibbs,

"Clausewitz on the Moral Forces in War," Naval War College Review 27 (January-February

1975) ; Michael T. Corgan, "Mahan and Theodore Roosevelt: The Assessment of Influence,"

Naval War College Review 33 (November-December 1980).

26. Philip A. Crowl, "Education versus Training at the Naval War College: 1884-1972,"

Naval War College Review 26 (November-December 1973): 2-10.

27. Ibid., 3. Also see, Elting E. Morrison, Men, Machines, and Modern Times (Cambridge,

Mass. : MIT Press, 1966).

28. Ibid., 3 .

29. Ibid., 4.

30. The notion of paradigms is developed at length in Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of

Scientific Revolutions (Chicago : University of Chicago Press, 1970) . On the technical inclination as it responded to Prussian military ideas, see Crowl, 5.

31 . This is especially pertinent since military learning, for all the professions of its stakes

as a science, still started from premises of understanding that were an essentially liberal art.

32. Crowl, 8 . Also see John W. Moseland and Lawrence T. Roadway, Soldiers and Scholars:

Military Education and National Policy (Princeton, N.J. : Princeton University Press, 1957);

Edward H. Katzenbach, "The Demotion of Professionalism at the War Colleges," Proceedings,

March 1965, 34-41.

33. Quoted in Crowl, 9 .

34. "A Perspective of the College's Strategy Curriculum," Naval War College Review 25

(March-April 1983) : 19 .

35 . Ibid ., 20.

36. Ibid ., 19.

37. A remark heard more than once concerning the Air War College curriculum was that

50
pgy 

College.

51
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 
POST-VIETNAM EVENTS

AND PUBLIC DISCOURSE

In 1967 revolutionary Che Guevara predicted that the United States

would face "two, three . . . many Vietnams. "I Yet, even as the conflict itself

was composed of many kinds of war at different times and in different

places, so has retrospective public discourse about Vietnam lacked coherence in almost every respect . The exception is a clear consensus that "something" went wrong in Vietnam and in American handling of Southeast

Asian problems. But no comparable consensus emerged to identify that

"something." Public discourse concerning the Vietnam War has thus taken

for granted that the United States must avoid repeating what went wrong.

But the judgment of what must be avoided has remained idiosyncratic and

eclectic.

The Vietnam War is not unique in being reduced to a simple sentiment

or attitude. In fact, this seems the destiny ofall American wars. The process

of failing to agree on most details of wars and rapidly forgetting the few

that had been agreed on may have become especially strong during the past

half century. Feelings have assumed more importance than thought, and

what one ought to know about a war that is past matters less in the public

mind than how one actually feels about it. The process of reaching conclusions logically by sorting through evidence has become tedious in an

age when personality means more than political content. And so the extremely simplified understanding of a war in terms of plain sentimentand usually only one sentiment at that-has become all but irrepressible . 2

Typical of this process of simplification was the feeling that World War

II was the "good" war.' Despite the extraordinary diversity and complexity

ofWorld War II, it was finally reduced to this single sentiment-not because

individuals comprehended all the details of the wartime experience but

rather because the war provided an emotionally understandable reference

point for each person's own individual memories. So, too, if World War

11 was the "good" war, Vietnam became the "troubled" war, the "longest"

war, and the "confused" war-ifnot exactly the "bad" war. 4 As with World

War II, the individual could make a personal accommodation with the

Vietnam War without needing a public agreement as to what had happened

and what it meant.

53
of each medium through which reappraisal was undertaken. In general,

however, the mass communications media-both print and electronicdisplayed a limited attention span when they finally undertook reexamination; and they rarely achieved any depth' of coverage and insight . Apart

from any question of editorial intent, the contours and limits of the mass

media's historic memory of Vietnam derived from their own focus on the

present . Yesterday's events quickly lost their legitimacy as news, and so

their eligibility for coverage ended.s

Even if one chose to draw attention to Vietnam and to discover its lessons

just a few years after the war's end, it would already have been necessary

to spend precious time and space on a simple narration of events. Many

viewers and readers would have forgotten much of what had happened;

and many more would never have known. And for the critically important

younger generation born during the Kennedy administration, the Vietnam

experience was likely to be "ancient history" as much as the Peloponnesian

War. It was bad enough that a common body of knowledge about the

Vietnam War had not stabilized because of disagreement among its advocates and opponents. But matters became even worse when the absence

of a common understanding also derived from an absence of common

experience and shared memory. Thus, even ten years after US withdrawal

from Vietnam, the American experience in Southeast Asia had become

essentially the province of history rather than news; and the genuine retrieval ofthat experience required the slow disciplines of historical research

and verification. Outside the specialized disciplines, however, recollection

of Vietnam risked becoming a recital of the commentator's own dispositions and biases-true to the details of the war but false to its comprehensive appreciation years later. And like understanding of the Vietnam

War itself, discussion of its pertinence to post-Vietnam events also became

idiosyncratic and eclectic.

National Security Issues and the Post-Vietnam Press

As the usual round of national security issues developed during the years

after US withdrawal from Vietnam, individual members of the press occasionally found cause to recall the lost venture. But consistent patterns

of recollection and reference did not emerge. The Vietnam experience remained multifaceted and ambivalent; and even political inclination and

ideology were faulty predictors of how Vietnam analogies would be used.

A common theme, especially by the 1980s, was the need to take action

in foreign affairs, albeit in a reasoned manner. Some major newspapers

suggested that the main lesson of the Vietnam experience was that the

54
the San Diego Union in an editorial titled "Another Vietnam?" published

on 2 August 1983. 6 The Union disputed alleged similarities between Vietnam and current issues such as El Salvador and Nicaragua in either political

or military matters. The only constant, according to the Union, was misapprehension of the administration's policies by their opponents. The

Union alleged that critics of the administration had adopted an oversimplified blanket view that discounted details and provided no basis for taking

concrete steps to reach larger goals. 7 Ironically, some opponents of the

administration's policy saw a similar dynamic of misapprehension and

oversimplification, although they believed it was the government's supporters who were guilty of it . It was not hard to believe that Vietnam had

been a source of confusion and misapprehension and that it remained so.

But while this view could not in itself prevent a repetition of the error, it

left post-Vietnam policy and opinion makers substantially free to develop

their own ideas and constituencies to support them. Whether they did so

was up to them.

Not infrequently, columnists used Vietnam as evidence that Americans

needed to make tougher, more realistic appraisals of their allies and adversaries than they had during the 1950s and 1960s. In August 1984, for

example, syndicated columnist Jack Anderson referred to Vietnam in order

to expose the "schoolboy crushes" that he thought Roman Catholic priests

had on left-wing revolutionaries .' In the article "Naive Clerics Might Learn

from Vietnam," Anderson argued that a more skeptical attitude toward the

Vietnamese government might have helped pave the way for genuine reform

and protection of Roman Catholic interests in South Vietnam. Suggesting

a broad parallel, he urged that the priests now question the high-sounding

claims of the left-oriented factions in Central American9 The real lesson of

Vietnam, at least in this respect, was not to avoid involvement but to

overcome naivet6. Political issues remained real, but dealing with them

required more than political action. It called for a change in attitude and

adjustment in personality traits . Nor was the objective to be prejudgmental

of major political stances, such as favoring either intervention in or abstention from the affairs of other states. Later in 1983, for example, when

Anderson discussed the reemergence of the Central American Defense

Council (Condeca), he saw it as a means to let Washington "sit back, supply

its allies and have no fear of a Central American `Vietnam' in an election

year."'° But here, too, the prospect of a Vietnam-like failure did not automatically mean either commitment or avoidance . It meant self-consciousness and caution.

Calls for tempering public discussion of foreign policy issues abounded.

Marvin Stone editorialized in U.S. News & World Report on 21 March 1984

in favor of a middle ground on Central American issues, avoiding the

55
and the notion that it should prove persuasive in current affairs . Few Americans would gladly accept Soviet influence in Central America, Stone argued, but "fewer believe they face a choice between another Vietnam on

the one hand and a catastrophic surrender of vital U.S . interests on the

other."" The prospect of intervening did not trouble Stone, but making a

specific commitment to do so under the influence of misleading debate

did. He railed, against exaggeration that gave "little help in understanding

the realities o: the US predicament in Central America." 12 Stone had no

doubt of a government's right to intervene in extreme situations, but he

demanded that reason and balance prevail in discussing when to do so.

Some who criticized US policies accepted the principle of active overseas

commitments but challenged the logic of certain specific undertakings.

Vietnam could be mentioned-but not as a blanket denial of the need for

US action overseas. In "Echoes of Vietnam," published in the Baltimore

Sun on 30 September 1983, Garry Wills allowed some similarity between

the current US approach in Lebanon and the prior US action in Vietnam;

but he specifically disavowed a "knee-jerk" comparison. His criticism focused on the reluctance of governmental figures to think concretely and to

speak openly on public issues . He charged "official lies and evasions," and

he dismissed congressional authorization of an 18-month US troop presence in Lebanon as a "shameful `compromise' by which Congress tried to

escape its duty to prevent undeclared wars." '3 Wills rejected rationales that

were so sweeping that they could not be tested . In Lebanon, he reasoned,

the United States could not leave "because that would be leaving," just as

in Vietnam "our reason for being there was being there."' 4 He assumed

that military intervention could be justified in certain circumstances, but

he could never justify it by mere "circular reasoning."" Again, the "legacy

of Vietnam" was not "knee-jerk" avoidance but an impulse to critically

examine the nation's commitments and involvements.

Although some officials claimed that their opponents were "ganging up"

and raising the ghost of Vietnam, some highly visible critics conspicuously

avoided it . Indeed, George W. Ball-one of the most strenuous opponents

of US policy in Vietnam-wrote and spoke of American interests and

actions in Lebanon and the Middle East without mentioning Southeast

Asia at all . In "Why Is the US in Lebanon?" published in the Christian

Science Monitor on 23 December 1983, Ball concentrated on the need to

think concretely about Lebanese matters and to avoid acting on the basis

of mere abstractions and generalities .

'6

Later events-notably the terrorist bombing of US Marine barracks at

Beirut International Airport-heightened public questioning of the steps

being taken by the US government in the Middle East. Public statements

issued by the Reagan administration promised appropriate response to the

56
the specific parties responsible and so had no basis on which to pursue a

selective policy . Geyelin's observation that Congress meanwhile sought a

"less dangerous peace-keeping mission for the Marines" did not suggest

tension between the goals of Congress and those of the president as much

as Geyelin's emphasis on knowing concrete details about areas in which

the United States was involved. Doing something well meant not doing

things indiscriminately.

The lessons of Vietnam, for the editors of the Baltimore Sun, did not lie

in some list ofspecific actions or specific policies but in a change of attitude.

In an editorial titled "Vietnam, Lebanon, El Salvador," published on 24

February 1984, the Sun pointed toward "a cultural arrogance on both sides

of the congressional debate" over Central America. The Sun cast doubt on

"the administration's notion that 55 U.S . military advisers can transform

the Salvadoran army into a law-abiding outfit dedicated to Western democratic principles. . . ." But it also questioned whether "the United States

can impose on Salvadoran society its own legalistic definitions of human

rights." The editors asserted that the United States can retain its objectives

in human rights and other areas; but it cannot expect to achieve them and

should not act under the illusion that it can. "If this country has learned

anything from Vietnam and Lebanon," they continued, "it should be an

appreciation of a large outside power's incapacity to alter the essential

nature of a smaller one." When the Sun allowed the existence of "ghosts"

from Vietnam and Lebanon, it was in the intertwining of "ill-fated U.S .

military entanglements and debatable strategic assessments ." "

In various respects, the views presented by the Sun could be disputed.

Depending on the respective size and power ofthe large and small countries,

it might actually be possible to "alter the essential nature" of the smaller

country, provided the time and practical means were available . Surely, the

life or "nature" of the Republic of Korea was fundamentally changed in

the decades after 1950 from that prevailing before World War II. Similarly,

the experience ofthe southern part ofVietnam after US withdrawal suggests

that substantial change may have been possible there too. And the changes

in political direction on the small island nation of Grenada also moot the

Sun's claims.

But despite the criticisms one might lodge against the Sun's editorial

writers, there was an important element of neutrality in the view they

espoused. There was no imperative either for or against intervention as a

matter of principle . To the extent that there was any predetermined imperative, it was toward a cautionary respect for the hard facts of the real

world outside America.

In denying that Vietnam had pertinence to the continuing national se

curity interests ofthe United States, writers meant "pertinence" in a narrow

57
icans in new situations. Writing in the Washington Times on 24 January

1984, for example, Philip Gold speculated that Vietnam provided few lessons. He wrote that "as a guide to future individual and national conduct,

it offers no guidance at all."" Still, Gold enumerated ways of doing business

in Vietnam that he believed caused American failure there: determining

foreign policy on the basis of domestic political concerns, micromanagement of the war (often by persons professionally unqualified to attempt

it), reduction of popular political discourse to "individual emotional

states," and a "mindlessness" in conducting the war as well as in evaluating

it.' 9 Thus, while denying that Vietnam provided guidance, Gold enumerated its lessons . And however much he thought himself at odds with the

general assessment of Vietnam being made by others, Gold shared their

interest in how Americans behaved-in matters of character, disposition,

inclination, and personality-even more than in how constraints created

outside the United States affected US action in Southeast Asia. The greatest

source of future guidance for US policy and its implementation, then, was

less the record of events in Asia than the reflection on personality in

America.

Leaders and Their Memories

From among Vietnam's effects on post-Vietnam events, one might usefully separate those consequences that are carried within the memories and

personalities of leaders from those being forced on them against their will.

In some cases, this must be a "close call." External pressures can exist. But

deciding when it is the internal impulse and the internalized perception

that is really at work remains difficult . It may be that charging others with

excessive slavishness to the memories of Vietnam actually suggests something about oneself as much as about others. In any event, the decade after

US withdrawal from Vietnam saw some readjustment in how US governmental and military leaders approached national security issues as well as

an adjustment in opinions about the leaders themselves.

Although US withdrawal from Vietnam and Cambodia suggested a decline in American self-confidence, President Gerald Ford moved swiftly to

prevent an obsessive "Vietnam syndrome" from paralyzing the nation.

Ford justified his decision to use force to free the crew of the commercial

vessel Mayaguez from Cambodian authorities because it might give a "shot

in the arm" to the public, boosting their enthusiasm and confidence after

the battering they had taken, especially in Vietnam.z° Problems would per

sist, and debate over the lessons of Vietnam would continue. But Ford

58
News reporters occasionally revealed a kind of sympathy for public officials who felt improperly restrained by the lingering thoughts of the lost

war in Vietnam. Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger proved an interesting example. Periodic reports appeared that "Weinberger and the

military are afflicted with the `Vietnam syndrome': a reluctance to flex

American military muscles without substantial, advance political backing

at home." So claimed Leslie H. Gelb in an extended article in the New

York Times on 7 November 1983. Gelb, himself a former government official, said the Pentagon was frustrated by the State Department for "providing little policy guidance for the use of force and that vague goals like

`peace and stability' in Lebanon are a recipe only for open-ended

involvement.""

Although one could explain the reticence ofWeinberger and the top brass

in terms of technical military requirements, outside observers did not always see it that way. Then, too, some of Weinberger's own published remarks lent fuel to the engines of suspicion. In an interview with Suzanne

Garment, capital reporter for the Wall Street Journal, Weinberger troubled

over what he believed was a change in the mood of Americans since the

1960s. "Vietnam and Watergate," he was quoted in the 5 August 1983 of

the Journal, "did very serious damage to the United States and its potential

foreign policy, and it will probably be a considerable period of time before

we can recover from that experience. . .

."22 In some respects, Weinberger's

position invited quarrel . The Vietnam experience gave an especially worrisome setting for the Reagan administration's programs more than it

caused skepticism toward those policies. Also refutable was the secretary's

implication that a bipartisan pursuit ofAmerican foreign policy was normal

outside the framework of the cold war and its highly unusual impulse

toward consensus . But the secretary clearly represented not only administration thinking on Vietnam but-more than he may have realizedthinking outside the administration as well in wanting to act "in ways that

aren't heavily influenced by what occurred there.

"23 The aim was to act

without substantial reference to Vietnam; and, although there was disagreement on what positive new steps must be taken, putting Vietnam off

into the past was an accepted element of a "new normalcy."

At times, eminent officials, whether past or current, accepted US involvement in potentially perilous international affairs by protesting a supposed fixation on Vietnam by their political opponents. Former Chief of

Naval Operations Elmo Zumwalt and Worth Bagley accused Democrats of

inventing a "One Answer" game in which all "complex foreign policy issues

[receive] only one ambiguous clue in response: Vietnam." In "Vietnam and

the Games Pols Play," published in the Washington Times on 12 August

1983, Zumwalt and Bagley sought to tie use of the Vietnam analogy to the

59
considerations that made Central America a legitimate area of interest for

the United States and one in which military operations were more

practicable ."

Two writers for the Washington Post argued that administration officials

were among those actually responsible for suggesting similarities between

current US interests, such as those in El Salvador, and Vietnam; and they

asserted that such suggestions came from every political quarter. In an

article in the 11 March 1983 issue of the Post titled "El Salvador Isn't

Vietnam," Stephen S. Rosenfeld noted that administration officials were

prone to use metaphors and vocabulary from the Vietnam experience. He

suggested that US officials speaking about El Salvador were "pushing buttons meant to elicit a certain mechanical response," even though "no usable

consensus yet exists [concerning Vietnam] from which Americans might

draw a common meaning" to apply to other problem areas. Rosenfeld

believed that President Reagan himself "recognized the evocative power

of `Vietnam' by summoning up all the geopolitical specters he associates

with the world in order to build support for his policy, even while denying

(`there is no parallel whatsoever with Vietnam') the prospect of a widening

war." 26 So, too, in a companion article titled ". . . But There Is a Chilling

Resemblance," Philip Geyelin saw a connection, "not between the exact

nature or likely dimension of El Salvador and Vietnam, but between the

mindset, the strategic concept and the language of the policymakers then

and now."2 ' Neither writer saw intervention or the use of the military as a

sufficient issue in itself; rather the debate must center on when such actions

werejustifiable as tested against real US interests, whether in Central America or Southeast Asia.

Senator John Stennis, an advocate of a relatively large military and a

strong defender of the War Powers Act, took a similar view. The general

pattern of US interests must be understood, and some broad sense of how

to pursue those interests needed to be shared widely. He implied that a

consensus must prevail if a war is to be undertaken successfully, arguing

that one thing Vietnam had shown was the need for congressional approval

to wage war. In an article published in USA Today on 19 September 1983,

Stennis recalled his anxiety over waging war in Korea without a declaration ;

and he remembered that he had sought a declaration as the United States

became deeply involved in Southeast Asia. "During the Vietnam War," he

added, "I worked with experienced and wise members of the Senate who

would ask the question over and over: `How did we get into this war?"' Zs

And so he insisted that after the war a satisfactory provision be made to

retain the congressional power to determine that a commitment to war had

been made. A key lesson of Vietnam, then, at least for Stennis, was that a

war needed some genuine authorization, some clear starting point. Phrased

60
mechanism of commitment, however, in no way predetermined whether

the United States should commit to an intervention or abstain from it .

The Chicago Tribune also expressed concern that overt or implicit reference to Vietnam would distort debate over current problems. In an editorial on 18 March 1983, for example, the Tribune's editorial writers stated

boldly that "El Salvador Is Not Vietnam." The paper rejected what it saw

as the administration's effort to "resurrect" the domino theory, while it

belittled comparisons made by the administration's critics between the

presence of US military advisers in El Salvador and their earlier presence

in Vietnam. "The United States has a legitimate role to play in the struggles

now going on in Central America," the editorial affirmed. "The Vietnam

slogans are only cluttering up people's thinking about it .

"29 Again, the view

which emerged was that, although the government had no right to expect

unthinking support of a crusade, it did have the right to pursue a reasoned

defense of concrete interests by realistic means.

Various candidates aspiring to national office were at pains to show that

they were not prisoners of Vietnam and to profess willingness to use force

overseas when necessary. In the campaign for the Democratic presidential

nomination in 1984, for example, Walter Mondale claimed better credentials for the Oval Office by suggesting that he was more willing than Gary

Hart to use military force. Mondale clearly viewed this inclination as a

positive one that appealed to the public. He specifically asserted that "guilt

is not a foreign policy," implying that a generalized ethical test was a poor

test of foreign policy . 3° Ethics and ideals were by no means irrelevant. In

fact, they were necessary-but they were not sufficient. In pertinent concrete expression, values could be useful ; but holding sway as abstractions,

they were lethal snares.

Mondale claimed to oppose the "basic premise, direction and policies

of the Reagan administration in Central America," and he insisted on

progress in human rights as a precondition for continuing support to El

Salvador. But opposition evidently had distinct limits . Mondale allowed

that he might maintain US military personnel in Honduras. Moreover, he

made clear that "power politics" would be the name of the game ifhe were

elected, saying that the troops in Honduras would be a bargaining chip to

press for Cuban withdrawal from Nicaragua. And although Senator Hart

claimed to have long since opposed the stationing of US Marines in Beirut,

Hart had actually sponsored a bill allowing a six-month extension of their

presence there at a time when the Republicans in the Senate were pressing

for an 18-month authorization . The same Democratic alternative, in fact,

had also been backed by Mondale. 3 '

It is interesting to note also that Senator Hart, in his role as a member

of the Military Reform Caucus in Congress, implied that the United States

61
Mohr quoted Hart as saying reform would come slowly because change is

not undertaken "without suffering a military defeat. The reform movement

is seeking the change without the defeat.

"12 This was hardly a case of wallowing in the depths of the Vietnam experience.

Even when referring to Vietnam as a source of guidance for current

affairs, however, Gary Hart was inspired partly by Ronald Reagan, responding to the president's reference to Vietnam as "our finest hour." In

a campaign ad published in March 1984, Hart urged that "the commitment

of U.S . military force to Central America cannot be the answer to the

problems in Central America, as it was not the answer in Vietnam."" Even

here, however, Hart acknowledged that the use of force was a reasonable

option when it was not "inappropriate ." The key was to find the appropriate

solutions to concrete problems. In the end, even for Hart-who distanced

himself further from US governmental policy than Mondale did-opposition to the Reagan administration's conduct of foreign affairs was not a

"knee-jerk reaction" caused by obsession with Vietnam. In ajointinterview

in New York on 1 April 1984, Hart spoke more broadly of "the error of

Vietnam and Lebanon." The alleged problem was not Vietnam in specific

but the more generic one of using force without clarity of purpose and

predictability of result. 34 Pushed far enough, no political figure could avoid

admitting force as a viable option. The issues were sufficiency of cause,

frequency of use, intensity of force, and duration of commitment.

Vietnam in Public Memory

A decade after the collapse ofthe regime in South Vietnam, the American

war in Southeast Asia had begun to assume a place in public memory that

resembled, in significant respects, the place that previous American wars

occupied. Although the Vietnam War may be the first major US defeat, it

was hardly the first controversial war. The War of 1812 had brought the

young nation to the edge of ruin, as New England states threatened secession. The American Civil War grew out of differences so deep that an end

to military conflict could not possibly have settled them. It was possible

to "agree to disagree" on many matters such as the causes of conflict, the

justice of one's cause, or the nobility of one's motives. At long last, rallying

around old virtues of dedication, loyalty, and sacrifice could transcend all

specific political and military questions. Sentiments and sentimentality did

not need the support of logical syllogisms. Narrow cerebral logic mattered

less than the demands and instincts of the heart.

Perhaps the key symbol of those emotive instincts was the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, pioneered and built by a voluntary organization on prize

62
of those who served, others were angry at memorializing what they considered a politically wrong-headed war. The design that won the competition stressed simplicity, consisting of two black granite walls receding

below ground-level in a wide V-shape. The uproar was intense, as some

denounced it as an "open grave" and an insult to those who had served.

Others alleged that the V-shape imitated the V-sign that had been a symbol

of the antiwar movement of the Vietnam era. Yet the designer's intention

was only to set each wall on axis with a great patriotic monument-one

with the Washington Monument, the key symbol of national unity and

purpose, and the other with the Lincoln Memorial, the single greatest national symbol of sacrifice in the pursuit of freedom .

In time, a consensus of acceptance grew around the Vietnam Veterans

Memorial. Its dedication became a symbol of national reconciliation . And

rightly so. For this was the first national monument to engrave in memory

the names of common soldiers, sailors, and airmen. The black granite walls

were covered with the names of those who had fallen in the American

campaigns in Vietnam, and each was recognized as a hero and patriot for

the dedication and sacrifice given in the pursuit of duty. Political assessment of the Vietnam War itself was intentionally avoided. There was no

need to decide even gross political questions such as whether the war had

been a noble pursuit of freedom for one's friends or an imperialist adventure since the celebration of personal virtue pushed aside the search for

political consensus . 3s

In New York City, public reconciliation with the Vietnam experience

was symbolized by the building of a memorial honoring the war's veterans .

The design selected was a 14-foot high glass wall, accented by two portals,

with excerpts from letters, poems, and songs etched into the glass blocks.

"We're not looking for fancy prose or edited letters," said a member of the

winning design team. They sought real words expressing the deep emotions

of the common soldier. New York City Mayor Edward Koch remarked:

"What I like is its simplicity, and the fact that what will appear on the wall

will be the comments ofthose who suffered." Significantly, Koch recognized

the suffering and dedication of the American soldier, while so much of the

attention during the war itself had been focused on harm done to noncombatants . "These comments," Koch added, "will be a constant reminder of

how much we owe the dead and how much we owe the living."" Koch's

words exemplified the movement ofVietnam from analysis into acceptance

beyond assessment of the war's purpose to an appreciation of those who

conducted it .

Empathy for those who participated in the war emerged in popular music,

where appreciation of the veteran superseded acceptance of the war's pol

itics . The highly successful singer and composer Bruce Springsteen set the

63
protest than one of pain, such songs strengthened the sentimental romance

with "small town America" and the sense of home.

17

Prime-time television programming generated the series "Magnum, P.I .,-

featuring a sometimes reflective Vietnam veteran and Naval Reserve officer

as its principal character. The hero of the short-lived series "Call to Glory"

was even an active duty Air Force officer; and the series was set in the era

of the Vietnam War." Meanwhile, the Public Broadcasting System (PBS)

developed and presented an extensive series, "Vietnam: A Television History," presenting the varied points of view from almost all sides in the war.

Even here and in the book published as a companion to the television

series, human qualities-whether frailty or endurance, confusion or vision-served as the balm to ease and transcend the hurt of reviewing the

experience. 39 In any event, one night's audience for the successful network

series "Magnum" exceeded the accumulated audience of the entire run of

the PBS series.

Films concerning the Vietnam War became ever more similar in tone to

those spun off other American wars. Subtlety died as patriotic commitment

resumed its traditional status as a high virtue . To be sure, early filmsincluding some made during the war itself-sometimes preached specific

political lessons, whether "prowar" or "antiwar." Notable for its bluntness,

as well as its artistic failings, was The Green Berets (1968), which praised

both the activities of US Special Forces and the basic US commitment to

the Saigon government. On the other side of the political line, Coming

Home (1978), extensively presented the views ofthe antiwar activists, even

in explicit speeches delivered by Oscar-winner Jon Voight . Yet the underlying focus even in this film was concern for the Americans who had fought

in Vietnam as much as for the Vietnamese. While clearly hostile to the

political views that led the United States into war, Coming Home nonetheless hinted at the area in which a final accommodation among "prowar"

and "antiwar" factions would emerge-an area beyond politics and dominated by personal concerns and human relationships .

Even as early as Michael Cimino's Academy Award-winning The Deer

Hunter (1978), attention was shifting away from the political dimensions

of the war and toward the human impact on those who served in Vietnam

and on their families . Graced by convincing performances from first-rate

actors, The Deer Hunter was nearly "unreadable" in political terms (its final

scene even including a sincere rendition of the song "God Bless America");

but it drew from the audience a deep empathy with a broad range of

characters who had suffered greatly and in varying ways. Similarly, Francis

Ford Coppola's Apocalypse Now (1979), sometimes falsely called an "antiwar" film, actually used the Vietnam experience to see the sources of

destructive behavior not within a political system but within human nature.

64
Quintessential "B-movies" of the 1980s carried the "prowar" faction's

message that the US military forces had "had their hands tied" and "weren't

allowed to win" in Vietnam. But the insistent, repeated theme of prisoners

ofwar again revealed that the final resolution could not be made in political

terms nearly as effectively as in human ones. While many Americans might

still challenge the reasoning behind sending US military personnel to Southeast Asia, virtually none would dare challenge the sentiment to bring them

all home. Thus, films such as First Blood (1982) introduced the more contentious analysis of the war itself, even as later films such as Rambo (1984)

extended the concern for recovering Americans missing in Southeast Asia.

But the inherent structural message of both such films was the primacy of

the sentiments and instincts of the individual over the calculations of government. Political absolutes proved intractable . But one might always

search out a workable, reasonable accommodation in human relationships,

no matter how boldly it defies logic.

Thought and Feelings

The ultimate impact of Vietnam on post-Vietnam events may be largely

a product of feelings, which hold a much stronger sway over public sentiment than does logical thought. And the news reporters and commentators-even the most diligent among them-may find it impossible to pull

the public away from those deep feelings that are so much more compelling

than syllogistic reasoning. Even political commentators and members of

the press respected by the public may have only little impact if they deviate

from the tide of public feeling .

The tendency to attribute to the Vietnam experience much more than

was proved may well intensify. But it is not clear that this would finally

alter the nature of long-term public discourse concerning Vietnam. Supposed lessons may be cited and recited until repetition creates an air of

certitude . The "lessons of Vietnam" may emerge as boldly and as simplistically as the "lessons of Munich," smudging over the complexities and

uncertainties of the experience. In general, however, the shape of the Vietnam memory has already substantially been formed-whether one calls it

a need for clarity, a need for concreteness, or any of a host of other basically

synonymous expressions . The memory is sustained less by fact and by

detailed analysis than by long-standing impulses and inclinations among

the people who carry it .

The enduring place of Vietnam in popular memory and public discourse

depends less on Vietnam than on America-less on events in Southeast

Asia than on attitudes and sentiments in the American people . In a way,

65
The concerns of the Vietnamese seemed less important to Americans than

were the global interests of the United States, and the war in Vietnam was

viewed in global terms at the expense of regional and local realities. This

same attitude has proved dominant as Americans have come to establish

a rhetoric of reference to Vietnam. It could hardly have been otherwise.

Notes

1 . Article by Ernesto "Che" Guevara, Havana, Cuba, 16 April 1967, quoted in Daniel Smith,

Che Guevara (New York : Stein and Day, 1969), 258.

2. Warren Susman has pointed out that Americans shifted emphasis from "character," which

hadconcerned them in the nineteenth century, to "personality," which absorbed their attention

in the twentieth century. This reflected a deeper turn away from public deliberation on political

content in a logical fashion; and, in its place, personal feelings and one's "relationships" with

others functioned as the new norm of behavior and as a new form of judgment . "Getting

along" thus becomes more crucial than "getting things right," at least in any abstract sense.

See Warren I . Susman, "`Personality' and the Making of Twentieth Century Culture," in

Susman, Culture as History (New York : Pantheon Books, 1984).

3. Studs Terkel, "The Good War": An Oral History of World War Two (New York: Pantheon

Books, 1984).

4. For example, see George Herring, America's Longest War (New York : Wiley and Sons,

1979).

5. This is not intended as a criticism of the mass media but only as a recognition of the

imperatives created when one defines "news" in terms of currency of events rather than in

terms of duration and depth of consequences .

6. "Another Vietnam?" San Diego Union, 2 August 1983 .

7. Ibid .

8. Jack Anderson, "Naive Clerics Might Learn from Vietnam," Washington Post, 26 August

1983 .

9. Ibid .

10 . Jack Anderson, "Latin American Experts Fearful War Will Widen," Washington Post,

24 October 1983 .

11 . Marvin Stone, "El Salvador: Any Salvation?" U.S. News &' World Report, 21 March

1983 .

12 . Ibid .

13 . Garry Wills, "Echoes of Vietnam,'." Baltimore Sun, 30 September 1983 .

14 . Ibid .

15 . Ibid .

16 . George W. Ball, "Why Is the US in Lebanon?" Christian Science Monitor, 23 December

1983, 14.

17 . "Vietnam, Lebanon, El Salvador," Baltimore Sun, 24 February 1984 .

18 . Philip Gold, "Vietnam: Doubts for the '80s," Washington Times, 24 January 1984.

19. Ibid .

20 . Gerald R. Ford, A Time to Heal (New York : Harper and Row, 1979), 275-76 .

21 . Leslie H. Gelb, "Shultz, Pushing a Hard Line, Becomes Key Voice in Crises," New York

Times, 7 November 1983, 1, 12.

66
24 . Elmo Zumwalt and Worth Bagley, "Vietnam and the Games Pols Play," Washington

Times, 12 August 1983 .

25 . As suggested in a separate chapter of the present study, the restrictive association of

Democrats with use of the Vietnam analogy is false. This does not imply insincerity on the

part of Zumwalt and Bagley, but it may underscore the growing activism of the advocates of

intervention .

26 . Stephen S. Rosenfeld, "El Salvador Isn't Vietnam," Washington Post, 11 March 1983,

17 . US Ambassador to the United Nations Jeane J. Kirkpatrick exemplified the administration's mix of using the Vietnam analogy while leaving it obscure when she asserted: "The

biggest difference between Vietnam and Central America is the Pacific Ocean." Interview

with Jeane Kirkpatrick, "This Week with David Brinkley," ABC television, 15 April 1984.

27 . Philip Geyelin, ". . . But There Is aChilling Resemblance," Washington Post, 11 March

1984, 17 .

28 . John Stennis, "Marines Could Be in a Spot Like Vietnam," USA Today, 29 September

1983 .

29 . "El Salvador Is Not Vietnam," Chicago Tribune, 18 March 1983 .

30. Anthony Lewis, "Abroad at Home: The Democratic Quandary," New York Times, 22

March 1984 .

31 . Fay S. Joyce, "Mondale and Hart Clash on Central America," New York Times, 28

March 1984, 15 .

32 . Charles Mohr, "On Military : Debating Frills and Fundamentals," New York Times, 3

April 1984 .

33 . Gary Hart campaign advertisement, New York Times, 28 March 1984, 11 .

34. "Excerpts From Candidates' New York Interviews," New York Times, 2 April 1984, 11 .

35 . The Vietnam Veterans Memorial has emerged as one of the most frequently visited of

all sites in Washington, D.C .

36. David W. Dunlap, "A Wall to Honor Vietnam Veterans," New York Times, 30 May

1984, 12.

37. Bruce Springsteen, "Born in the U.S .A .," copyright 1984 Bruce Springsteen. Consistent

with this "home-town" focus was the rhetoric of "coming home" popularized in the dedication

of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., and in related ceremonies.

38 . The cancellation of the series "Call to Glory" owed much to its absence of a clear focus .

Apparently, viewers had difficulty deciding if it was a "war story," a family story, or something

else. Protest over the flattering portrayal of the Air Force pilot as hero did not develop.

39 . The companion volume is Stanley Karnow, Vietnam, AHistory (NewYork: Viking Press,

1983).

67
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 
THE CONGRESS AND NATIONAL SECURITY

AFTER VIETNAM: BUSINESS AS USUAL?

Issues pertinent to national security and the US military inevitably confront the US Congress. It must authorize and appropriate funds to support

policy formulated by the executive branch. But Congress cannot escape

making judgments on both the broad mechanisms for achieving national

security objectives and the more specific options proposed for individual

contingencies . The military's ability to work effectively with Congress,

therefore, depends in some measure on the understanding each has of the

other; and in the aftermath of the US experience in Vietnam, it is not

certain that an understanding of the other party developed on either side.

The roots of frustration thrive in the rich soil of misapprehensions, and a

considerable measure ofthe frustration felt in various professional quarters

appears to have been fanned by misunderstandings of the frequency, character, and thrust of references to the Vietnam War. At the same time, the

legacy of assumptions and expectations left by Vietnam determines some

of the rules of engagement between Congress and those who deal with it.

It is clearly pertinent, then, to see what Vietnam's legacy appears to have

been in the thinking of Congress and the legacy of thought that is imputed

to Congress by outside parties. Finally, one should determine whether there

is much correspondence between the two.

The Cold War Consensus and the Issue of "Normalcy"

How Congress was affected by Vietnam and how that change might affect

the military's chances for achieving its goals in national security matters

cannot be assessed without establishing a baseline ofcongressional thinking

before Vietnam and a method for detecting difference. The baseline immediately preceding Vietnam was that of the cold war consensus under

which a clearly bipartisan support for presidential guidance on foreign

policy and national defense matters prevailed. Some have suggested that

endorsement of the vision ofthe world as bipolar, in which anticommunism

was seen as an inevitable component of a global confrontation, was the

price paid by some for their own domestic liberalism. By maintaining an

ardently anti-Communist stance, they could assure their political friends

69
y py 

World War II against fascism ; and it was not a disposition easily shaken,

especially since the experience of World War II and disclosure of the full

measure of Nazi atrocities confirmed the wisdom of antifascist unity.

On the other hand, a longer view of the American political tradition

suggests that consensus on overseas matters has been far from the normative

experience. Even during wars, division among Americans has been frequent

and visible. When Americans were not in actual combat, linkages between

foreign policies and domestic affairs were inescapable . Far from suppressing

differences of view on external matters, Americans have often used matters

offoreign relations as means of identifying alternate visions ofwhat America itself ought to be.

Debate between the Federalists and Republicans, especially during the

Adams and Jefferson administrations, on US relations with Great Britain

and France and on the establishment of a deep-water naval capability represented differing inclinations as to the proper character of the American

political system. This conflict is customarily seen as a difference in perception of central government authority. But it was also a divergence as to

the wellsprings of American behavior. One side saw the United States role

in world affairs as a response to challenges thrust upon the nation from

outside while the other saw the actions of the United States as swelling

from its chosen desires

A later and equally vigorous debate over annexation policies took place

in and around the years of the US war with Mexico. Which lands to acquire

from Mexico (or, for that matter, to secure by negotiating with Britain or

Russia) was the reciprocal of a host of knotty domestic problems: whether

the United States could tolerate multilingualism, whether it could overcome

anticatholicism, and-most of all-how it could contain the increasing

stresses of domestic slavery.' Late nineteenth-century expansionism similarly entailed a dispute over the American political character and over the

sources of US conduct, again reinforcing the view that US actions overseas

grew first from what Americans sought to achieve and only secondarily

from the need to defend against other countries . For example, those who

opposed annexation of Hawaii and US administration of the Philippines

did not do so because of isolationism but because they feared that acquiring

colonial possessions would fundamentally corrupt the US political system.4

Debate and dissent concerning foreign affairs, common to the American

experience, have reflected a continuing search for the "real" America.

Only in the shorter term-and only when a clearly categorical opposition

exists between the United States and some hostile state on the most fundamental philosophical levels-have Americans en masse suspended their

critical instinct and assumed that good intent ensures a good choice of

diplomatic methods.' In any period of American history, the norm is to
y p

j

To get a reading on recent congressional views, then, entails seeking some

sense of the structure in which congressmen and senators cast the issues

before them. For one thing, such attention to structure strongly suggests

whether Congress is aligned to the enduring baseline characterized by interest in methods and broad goals or to the more tenuous ground of emergency and crisis .

Beneath questions of partisan support and affiliation lies the more significant issue of bipartisanship . When is bipartisanship justified? What

costs mayfairly be paid in its support? What relationship between domestic

political interests and foreign policy interests is correct in the United States?

It is, in short, a question of what constitutes "business as usual"?

After World War 1, Warren Harding called the country to "normalcy,"

never criticizing the fact that Americans had rallied in common cause to

meet the exigencies of war but certain that the measures taken to meet the

emergency must not be extended into American life in time of peace.b For

current purposes, the question is whether a new normalcy is emerging. Is

"usual" to mean an extension ofthe cold war consensus brought into challenge during the years of war in Vietnam? Or will it return to close examination of the means through which the executive branch and its

subordinate agencies operate?

Surveying Congressional Views, 1984

To determine which baseline had the greater currency by 1984, a survey

was undertaken to gather from senators and congressmen some expression

of their views on a number of major foreign policy and national security

issues .' The object ofthe request-which called on each congressional office

to forward "what you regard as your representative statements" concerning

US policy in Lebanon, El Salvador, and Nicaragua-was to let each office

select materials that identified the member's political and policy position

and that would be open to analysis .' No special request was made that the

materials provided indicate the underlying logic of members' concerns or

their specific voting positions.

Newsletters sent to home states or districts, standard letters used in response to constituent mail, and extracts of comments made on the floor

of the House or Senate constituted much of the material . Less frequently,

copies of speeches and radio transcripts were included. These materials

could be challenged as thin and rhetorical, yet they remain the language

in which Congress communicates with the electorate . Statements designed

for constituents' consumption seek to explain and justify positions the

congressman or senator is taking . Such materials may thus reveal much

71
ppg 

A follow-up letter some two months later thanked those who had already

responded, mentioned the types of materials they had sent, and welcomed

additional responses and especially first responses from previous nonrespondents . The collection process ended five months after the processing

of the first mailing, and the material was entered into a computerized data

base. 10 Although the details of the data base of the software and record

structure used-for its management are important, the issues pertinent here

are the questions asked, the implications associated with answers, and the

significance attached to various correlations of responses to various questions." Information was also sorted into logical, numerical, and character

fields to supplement the study of underlying issues. 'z

A preliminary coding was made according to support or nonsupport of

administration policy with respect to each specific case mentioned (Lebanon, El Salvador, and Nicaragua) and to the Middle East and Central

America generally. Then the main thrust was to determine the stated or

the logically probable reason for either supporting or opposing the policy.

Among the critical tests were whether the goals of policy were accepted but

not the means, whether the means were seen as potentially acceptable but

not the goals, and whether the means matched the chosen goals. If the

American experience in Vietnam was specifically mentioned, precisely how

it was mentioned and the apparent purpose of doing so were identified if

possible . Given the open-endedness of the Vietnam experience, there was

a need to determine what specific aspects of it were selected as the relevant

"lessons." Particularly because some proponents of administration policies

have alleged that references to Vietnam have been the stock in trade of

those dissenting from the administration's view, failure to ask more discriminating questions about references to Vietnam would have meant failure to test an unproven allegation. In addition, appropriate character fields

for state, party affiliation, and gender were used. Taken together, it was

possible to ask such questions as whether those referring to Vietnam typically supported the administration's positions or opposed them; what aspects of the Vietnam experience were seen as lessons suited to current

problems; whether endorsements of the administration's views on Vietnam

follow party affiliation or other considerations ; and whether the congressmen and senators focused on the relationship between the goals of policy

and the means employed to achieve them.

Out of a total membership of 535 in both bodies, a total of 146 members

of Congress responded. The sampling, which technically does not merit the

use of that term, was based exclusively on the senators' and congressmen's

willingness to respond. It would have been possible to inspect the Congressional Record and other sources in order to have a complete record of all

100 senators and all 435 congressmen, but this would have damaged the

72
p

of how senators and congressmen preferred to project themselves on the

major issues in foreign and defense affairs . It is not necessary to indulge

in overly nice criticism of what senators and congressmen "really mean"

by what they say ; for present purposes, how they mean to be understood

is the key, and this may well be seen in what they say and how they say it .

To appreciate the underlying concerns among congressional and other figures, how views are expressed is central. The results presented here are

complete with respect to responses received, but they are only partial with

respect to the legislature as a whole. They are suggestive rather than final.

Common Ground

Has any common ground emerged in Congress in Vietnam's aftermath?

The present inquiry reveals a broad foundation of interrelated ideas, perhaps constituting less a "lesson" of Vietnam than a resurgence of more

traditional ideas predating the cold war and made possible by Vietnam's

savaging of the cold war consensus . Intense concern appeared over the the

means to achieve the stated goals of policy; and blanket acceptance of

idealistic pronouncements as statements of policy fell into considerable

disrepute. Even if a policy objective appeared desirable, there was more

care and scrutiny as to whether the goal was achievable and as to its costs.

The penchant for looking at the specifics of implementation rather than

just at the broad framework of policy objectives paralleled a renewed assessment of countries in terms of their own histories rather than as part

of a global ideological drama.

This focus on concrete means and specific cases was shared by those who

supported administration policy and those who opposed it, those who favored a military component in US policy in Central America and those

who wished it dramatically reduced, those who emphasized Soviet and

Cuban agitation in the region and those who emphasized indigenous

sources of conflict . The common ground, then, was insistence on concreteness, on specificity, and on attention to the practical link between measures

proposed and effects intended. In addition, a common understanding appeared, a policy pursued without clear support from the American public

was in danger from the start. Among congressional respondents to the

present inquiry, these ideas took on progressively more specific forms,

sometimes supported by careful rationales. Common concerns linking representatives across the political spectrum included the need for clarity in

the formulation and statement of national policy, the imperative to define

military missions precisely in order to keep them within the originally

authorized scope and also to ensure that they were feasible, and the need

73
decent payoff. Blanket explanations evidently lacked appeal and persuasiveness . Commitment of support was more likely when the issue was concrete and the case specific .

The need to make means serve the ends of policy was by far the most

pervasive theme. One hundred twenty-six (92.7 percent) of the 146 responding members mentioned the intimate linkage between ends and

means of policy. Sixty Republicans and Democrats referring to the dependence of ends on means supported administration policy in Central

America, and 66 opposed it. Twenty-one Democrats and Republicans referring to the connection of ends and means and also referring to Vietnam

in connection with remarks on Central America favored the administration's actions in the region, and 20 expressed disfavor . The emphasis on

how goals are contingent on means, then, was both pervasive and

bipartisan.

References to Vietnam were found among those favoring administration

policies and those opposing them, as well as among Democrats and Republicans. Seventy-seven respondents favored the administration's policies

in Central America, and 69 expressed opposition. Twenty-four respondents

referred to Vietnam in reference to Central America and also favored the

administration's approach in Central America. Twenty opposed it . Of 45

proadministration respondents, 15 who favored the administration's policies in the Middle East (including Lebanon) cited analogies to Vietnam.

This group was proportionally larger than those opposing the administration's handling of Middle Eastern matters and also citing Vietnam.

The strongest undercurrent ofconcern was to ensure that goals recognized

as desirable be sought only by carefully selected means and to make support

of those goals conditional on choosing means that had a clear chance of

achieving them. When Vietnam was cited, it was largely as a general caution

about means and ends. Lessons beyond that were debatable .

The intimate relationship between means and ends was clearly a matter

of concern to Congressman Barney Frank (D-Mass.), an opponent of many

administration policies. On 27 July 1983, for example, Frank told colleagues in the House, concerning support of the contras in Nicaragua: "If

your fundamental purpose is to stop the flow of arms, do not entrust that

to people whose fundamental purpose is a different one, whose fundamental

purpose understandably is to reclaim their country." Referring to the contras, the Mosquito Indians, and the insurgents under Eden Pastora, Frank

said, "They are not in business to help us keep arms out of El Salvador.

They are in business to overthrow their own government." Again underscoring that the United States was inevitably limited in its options by the

desires of those with whom it worked, Frank concluded: "They are your

chosen instruments . Your intentions in this case are less relevant than the

74
Frank's manner of analysis and line of argument were extended by Congressman Lawrence J. Smith (D-Fla .) . Noting that there were some 10,000

contras under arms at the time, Smith regarded their intentions as obvious

from the character of the force and from their public statements. "No one

has ever said, from that group, that they are interdicting arms," Smith

remarked. "They have never made that claim. Nor would we need, by any

military standards, 10,000 men to interdict arms, which is the stated purpose of why they are supposed to be there in the first place." 14

Congressman Bill Nelson (D-Fla .) said the Vietnam experience had demonstrated that "as a practical matter it is not possible to interdict all of

the arms shipment" out of Nicaragua. The underlying insistence on pragmatism-on reasonable conviction that a goal was practically attainablefit into the general "lesson" learned from Vietnam."

Proponents of administration policy also professed concern to find the

most suitable means of seeking national goals. Although "Vietnam taught

us to think twice before getting involved in the affairs of other nations,"

as Congressman Richard Cheney (R-Wyo.) wrote in a newsletter for his

constituents in November 1983, there remained affairs originating in other

nations' problems that still involved US interests and could involve US

intervention in some form. Although seeking to avoid "getting sucked into

their military conflicts," it remained true that our interests sometimes rode

upon the outcome of their disputes. ' 6 Caution was justified, but automatic

avoidance of involvement was not.

Congressman Gerry E. Studds (D-Mass.) considered US policies inapt

to their contexts. Studds likened efforts by State Department representatives to demonstrate that the situation in El Salvador and Central America

generally was improving to "State and Defense Department briefings during the Vietnam War, when Congress was always told that just a little more

money and just a few more thousand soldiers would get the job done.""

This observation, provoked by consideration of the Kissinger Commission's report on Central American affairs, seems to have been rooted in

the same essential assumptions as Studds's March 1981 report to the House

Committee on Foreign Affairs (Central America, 1981). "If there is any

lesson to be learned from Vietnam and from the history of US relations

with Latin America," Studds then concluded, "it is that good intentions

are not sufficient to make good policy."'$ A goal ofthe highest esteem could

not substitute for a persuasive and effective pattern of means suited to the

goal's accomplishment .

But "no more Vietnams" did not have to mean avoiding involvements

when they held the prospect of having a military dimension. It could mean

instead an avoidance of false steps and failed strategy, much as the Eisen

hower administration sought to use the phrase "no more Koreas" not to

75
y g p

be repeated by his successor. Speaking in support ofReagan administration

policy in Central America, Congressman Sam B. Hall, Jr. (D-Tex.), expressed his belief that "a large percentage of the American people remain

skeptical over any involvement by the United States in Central America,"

even allowing that it was an understandable attitude given the difficulties

experienced in Vietnam.' 9 Hall advocated handling Central American difficulties by means and scenarios different from those that unfolded in Vietnam. In the end, "no more Vietnams" could be a caution against

committing an error more than against making a commitment at all .

The attention to precisely how a measure was supposed to achieve its

announced result also showed itself clearly and frequently in discussions

of US policy in Lebanon. It was not only a question of what the United

States wished to achieve through its actions but also what results it could

reasonably expect. Congressman Richard Ray of Georgia, who thought that

the administration never clearly articulated a mission for US Marines in

Lebanon, emphasized that "not enough thought was given to the possible

consequences of military involvement before that involvement was undertaken.

"2° For present purposes, it is less critical to judge the administration's

policy than to appreciate the mechanism of evaluation implicit in the congressman's comment. Reaction to the immediately apparent problem would

not suffice ; a reasonable estimate of the aggregate commitment over the

long run was essential, as was a comparable forecast of likely effects of US

actions . A simple version might read, "The United States had better know

what it's getting into and know what getting into it can actually accomplish." Generalities could be voiced easily but attained only with difficulty;

and a general objective could be stated even with no clear means to realize

the objective . As Senator Thomas Eagleton (D-Mo.) put it, "Peace-keeping

is an amorphous phase, not an assigned military mission 1121 Congressman

Henry Waxman (D-Calif.) referred to the mission of the US Marines in

Lebanon as "indefinable .

"22 The term peace-keeping seemed to such observers more a generalized goal than aspecific means to a desired outcome.

Endorsing such a broad goal, whether characterized as an "amorphous

phase" or not, seemed like giving the executive a blank check.

Consistent with this logic was a reference that Congressman Charles E.

Bennett of Florida made in the House on 28 September 1983 to the Gulf

of Tonkin Resolution. Calling it the one vote out of some 15,000 he had

cast as a congressman that he would take back if he had the opportunity,

Bennett did not merely raise the "specter" of "another Vietnam." He objected to the blanket authorization by Congress ofpresidential discretionary

action. He reminded the House that he had voted against the War Powers

Act on grounds that "it improperly gave power to the president.

"23 In short,

the operative concern was in the manner of doing business-in its consti76
replayed .

The focus on how means are expected to achieve the desired goals of

policy proved especially sharp in "Key Lessons of the United States Involvement in Lebanon," an essay by Congressman Ike Skelton of Missouri.

Allowing that the first deployment of Marines in the summer of 1982 made

sense because it had a "valid military mission" ofoverseeing the withdrawal

of PLO forces from Beirut, Skelton disputed the wisdom of a second deployment after the assassination of President Bashir Gemayel. Citing President Reagan's explanation that the new deployment would "facilitate the

restoration of Lebanese sovereignty," Skelton styled the mission as "essentially diplomatic." "How such force was to help back up the effort was not

really very clear," he added. The deployment seemed, in other words, too

imprecise in purpose for its mission to be stated at all.

Skelton also noted that neither Robert McFarlane nor Donald Rumsfeld

were Middle East experts, nor were they professional diplomats. "While

all three men are extremely capable individuals," he added, "the President

could have appointed others more qualified for the specific task at hand.

"24

In short, if US forces were to be used properly, the real question was not

whether the United States had an interest in the region but what particular

steps would really serve US interests and in what ways they would do so.

This was not merely a corrective to what Skelton saw as deficiencies in the

administration's approach but also a caution to Congress and to the American public. Suggesting that the "wound" of Vietnam had yet to heal completely, Skelton said Americans were uneasy about putting troops on the

ground "in unstable areas of the world." But the handling of an overseas

problem must not be warped by such uneasiness. "The problem with the

decision to deploy forces in Lebanon," Skelton noted, "was that we hoped

to show our `commitment' to the government of President Gemayel on the

cheap.

"21

Congressman John McCain (R-Ariz.), customarily sympathetic to the

administration's views, nonetheless rose in opposition during House debate

on the Multinational Force in Lebanon Resolution to authorize the presence

of US forces there under the War Powers Act. McCain specifically referred

to the prerequisites for a US military involvement offered by Gen Maxwell

Taylor shortly after the Indochina conflict . Those requirements-clearly

explainable objectives, clear support of the president by Congress, reasonable expectation of success, and support of our objectives from our allieshad not been met, according to Congressman McCain; and, in this sense,

lessons learnedthrough the Vietnam experience suggested reason to pause.26

It was not the prospect of involvement itself that invited comparisons

between Vietnam and Lebanon or Central America for Senator David Dur

enberger (R-Minn.) . What Durenberger found "eerily reminiscent of the

77
gp

necessary to obtain a "decisive battlefield victory," an uncertainty as to

what political purpose such a victory would serve, and insistence that US

troops nonetheless stay at least long enough to preserve US "credibility"

while "we accomplished a face-saving withdrawal.

"21 Durenberger also

compared Central America to Southeast Asia in various respects, seeing

the former as "haunted by the memories of Vietnam." Yet Durenberger

noted pointedly that what those memories meant varied widely, suggesting

to some that "we should never again involve ourselves in foreign policy

unless it is on the side of the angels ." Others thought that "we must somehowrestore our credibility as a superpower ." 28 It was not necessarily specific

places that troubled Durenberger; nor was such high policy necessarily

where he himself saw potentially dangerous similarities with the Vietnam

experience . It was instead "the manner by which we seem to be approaching

our policy . . . . and it is this parallel, I believe, which bears closer attention .

"29 What Durenberger insisted on was a Central American policy

rooted in the realities of Central America-not driven by visions falsely

harbored from the days of Vietnam.

Senator Durenberger cautioned that US policy in Central America was

"haunted" by memories of Vietnam that encouraged an extreme stance,

whether to avoid involvement or to demonstrate US status as a persuasive

superpower. But for Durenberger, the lessons of Vietnam were perhaps

most usefully those about "the making of policy." The superficial similarities between Vietnam and El Salvador, for example, ought to be appreciated for their limits; and the specific military and practical lessons should

be learned-that sustaining operations in El Salvador might be easier than

doing so in Vietnam, that the "much-maligned domino theory" was not

bankrupt, that guerrillas can be beaten, and the like . But the central issue,

as Durenberger saw it, was that "we made and sustained a broad and openended commitment, enshrined that commitment in terms of a large doctrine, and thereafter were forced to live bound up in a number of dilemmas." Durenberger suggested that it had not been the level of violence in

Vietnam that had determined the degree of US commitment but, rather,

that US commitment had itself driven up the intensity of the war. The

deepest problems with the pursuit of policy and the prosecution ofthe war

in Vietnam stemmed from US adherence to contradictory propositions :

"First, do not lose another country to communism. Second, do not fight

a land war in Asia. These two unstated rules, contradictory as they were,

forced us into the policy of incrementalism which ultimately spelled our

failure." The important lesson to be carried from the Vietnam experience

into the pursuit of policy in El Salvador was to match "our will and our

resources to the stakes allegedly involved." Anything short of that "prom78
p

it would avoid commitment of combat forces which was really "calling

forth memories in Vietnam."'° Specificity, concreteness, feasibility-such

were the criteria ofjudgment and concern forming a broad common ground

in Congress a decade after Vietnam.

A corollary of the insistence that actions of the US government be appropriate to the situation was the assertion of a criterion for appropriateness. The key to congressional determination of a suitable standard was

enhanced emphasis on the distinctive historical development of each country and region in which the United States might be a player. Members from

both congressional bodies and both parties commented on the need to

understand each problem, each country, and each region on its own terms.''

This concern extended to those enthusiastic about current policies and

to those skeptical of them. Congressman Don Bonker (D-Wash.) warned

on 28 July 1983 that the United States risked serious error in its Central

American policy, "once again . . . forming policies along East-West lines

not unlike the 1960s and our deepening entanglement in Southeast Asia."

The lesson of Vietnam that clearly affected Congressman Bonker was the

danger in using a "blanket" explanation ofpolicy in place of a more detailed

delineation of how specific measures suited US interests in the circumstances ofmany different nations . Congressman Bonker urged "the removal

of the conflict in Central America from the context of East-West confrontation," thus focusing on the needs and conditions of Central America itself

rather than on a bipolar global confrontation . 32

Senator George Mitchell (D-Maine) sought to distinguish between Vietnam and current problem areas. In comments on a supplemental aid bill

for El Salvador on 5 April 1984, he warned that "the debate over El Salvador

shows every sign of turning into a national referendum on Vietnam." Although a critic of administration policy in the region, Mitchell expressed

his hope that such a linkage not develop "because the differences between

El Salvador and Vietnam are far more important than the superficial similarities ."" Mitchell cited the comparative proximity of El Salvador to US

territory as compared to the 9,000-mile remove of Vietnam, much as supporters of the administration cited it . Mitchell also referred to the need to

keep the Panama Canal secure, as proponents of administration policy did.

And Mitchell acknowledged that the Soviet Union and Cuba contributed

to unrest in Central America but he gave far greater emphasis to the indigenous causes for the unrest. Mitchell noted, for example, that US involvement in Vietnam was an extension of Vietnam's struggle to end the

colonization most recently exercised by the Japanese and the French while

El Salvador's colonial status had ended in 1821. These different histories

led to different sets of problems, different requirements for their solution,

and different understandings ofhow much and what kind of aid an outside

79
ognize that each country had its own history, its own culture, its own

economic relationships, and its own legacy of friendships and animosities .

"34 For Mitchell, then, it was not right to make blanket comparisons

between Vietnam and El Salvador at all ; but it was important to adjust the

American mentality-the mechanisms, logic, and framework by which US

officials understood the world around them.

One supporter ofadministration policy in Central America who accepted

the need for a military component in US involvement in the region pointed

toward Vietnam's potential as a "value-free" or nonpartisan source of guidance. The message of the Southeast Asian experience was not isolation but

investigation . Congressman Cheney of Wyoming wrote to his constituents:

"Vietnam taught us to think twice before again getting involved in the

affairs of other nations. . . ."I' Although some might, after that second

thought, choose to avoid involvement in Central America, Cheney was not

among them; nor did the mere fact of taking a second look require any

close comparisons to the specific details of the Vietnam scenario. The issue,

as Cheney saw it, was not to ask whether El Salvador was like Vietnam. It

was to ask what was happening in El Salvador, what the implications were

for US interests, what those US interests really were, and what measures

showed any actual prospect for being effective . What "Vietnam taught us,"

then, was not a specific course of action to be followed but a checklist of

concerns to be kept in mind.

Congressman Bill Nelson (D-Fla.), in a release dated 29 July 1983, tried

to illustrate how a lesson drawn from the relatively unproductive enterprise

in Vietnam could be used to support administration policy in other areas,

specifically an operation that bore some limited similarities to the one in

Vietnam. Nelson favored US support of Nicaraguan contras as a means of

interdicting arms shipments, noting that it would be impossible to cut

completely the flow of arms from Nicaragua to El Salvador. "We learned

that lesson in Vietnam," Nelson observed. 36 The consequence ofthat lesson

for present policy, however, was not to avoid the attempt but to temper

one's expectations as to its predictable results. Recalling Vietnam did not

require avoidance of the general kind of operation that may have been

conducted there, although it did invite an effort to identify difficulties in

Vietnam and to deal with matters in current trouble spots on their own

terms.

Across a wide spectrum of opinion on what should actually be done in

Central America, there was a shared emphasis on the importance of tailoring any US involvement to each country and to the region as a whole.

As Congressman Richard H. Lehman (D-Calif.) put it, "The solution that

is finally arrived at must be compatible with Central America's needs and

history, not simply our own. . . .

"37 That the United States might need to

80
gy

became a more acceptable attitude after Vietnam.

Whatever specific appraisal congressmen made of the administration's

policies, they strongly urged that policies be shaped and carried out only

within the tolerances of the American public. Perhaps the best synthesis

of views in the Congress was represented by the words of Congressman

Jim Slattery (D-Kans.) : "While I resistattempts to equate Central America

with Vietnam, -I recognize that conditions in Central America are clouded

for many of us because of our memories of the Vietnam War."" Noting

that popular support for US military involvement in Central America was

lacking, Slattery said, "We must be sure that Americans firmly support

each action.

"39 In this criterion, he differed little from high-ranking officers

in the Army and the other services. Vietnam was neither a blanket explanation of the world nor a set of specific lessons to be applied in every

trouble spot. It was an inducement to determine the means by which desirable goals might realistically be pursued. As vagueas Vietnam's supposed

lessons were, the impact of Vietnam was to foster attention to the specific .

Senator Alan Cranston (D-Calif) expressed concerns closely resembling

those of high-ranking US military officers as to the circumstances under

which national security policies could be pursued. "One of the key lessons

of Vietnam," Cranston suggested in the Senate on 1 March 1983, was that

"support of the American people is vital for the success of our foreign

policy."°° Similarly, when questioning the course of administration policy

in Lebanon, Cranston emphasized that a war so costly and complex as that

in Vietnam had been fought without unity and popular support in the

United States and only with "trauma and controversy and division within

our country."°' Clearly, then, a key question was whether US policy toward

Vietnam had been derived from circumstances within Vietnam.

The Distinctiveness of

Proadministration Viewpoints

The shared concern that abstraction was dangerous still allowed for a

wide range ofdisagreement on specific policies. On the whole, those tending

to favor the administration's actions in overseas trouble spots also emphasized threats to security. In Central America and also in the Middle

East, they cited Cuba and the Soviet Union as sources of agitation and

unrest. They were more likely to make analogies to Vietnam when discussing the risks to US security in Central America. In comparing Vietnam

with Central America, supporters of the administration typically focused

on the potential damage the United States would sustain by failing to

achieve a stated goal. In this light, "Vietnam" cautioned against a strong

81
gg gyg 

to control the numbers streaming across US borders. The sense of crisis

was real and keen.

In general, respondents sympathetic to the administration's policies in

Central America and elsewhere were significantly more likely to cite the

Soviet Union and Cuba as contributors to unrest and crisis, or even as the

main causes, than were those dissenting from the administration's views.

Seventy-seven,(52.7 percent) respondents expressed agreement with US

policies in Central America, 65 of them warning that national security was

at stake in the region and specifically citing the Soviet Union and Cuba.

Many ofthese respondents mentioned the need for linking ends and means,

but they placed even greater emphasis on what they perceived to be the

nonindigenous aspects of the region's unrest. They also tended to see the

problems of Central America as part of a global confrontation between the

United States and the Soviet Union. One-third of those who favored US

policies in the area also cited the Soviet Union and Cuba as sources of

general threat to US security and referred to Vietnam to support their

positions . Only one proadministration congressman made reference to

Vietnam without explicitly naming the Soviet Union or Cuba as at least a

contributor to the regional unrest.

Only 13 of the 69 respondents unsympathetic to the US government's

actions in Central America also explicitly discussed the relationship of US

national security to the outcome of events in the area. In fact, proadministration members of Congress were as likely to cite Vietnam as were members on the other side of the issue. Only 16 nonsupporters who did not

mention the area's connection to US security interests referred to Vietnam

in explaining Central America. Forty of the 69 did not cite Vietnam or the

security issue at all, concentrating on what they perceived to be a problem

in the relationship of means and ends. Emphasis on the relationship of

local and regional problems to transcendent issues of global security appeared to be more significant than reference to Vietnam.

Similar views emerged over US relations with other countries in Central

America and the Middle East. On structural questions, such as how to

determine when to make a commitment, there was broad agreement without regard to party affiliation or one's interpretation of Vietnam. On determining whether US interests were concretely threatened in a particular

situation, the inclination ran high to see Soviet and Cuban involvement

rather than indigenous forces as the main criterion ofendangerment. Fortynine (63.6 percent) of those supporting the administration on Central

American matters pointedly blamed the USSR, Cuba, or both, while only

10 (14 .5 percent) of those opposing the US position in the region made

reference to either the USSR or Cuba.

In general, congressional respondents who supported existing adminis82
percent) proadministration respondents cited the immigration problem (10

ofthese also explicitly associated it with Vietnam) while only 2 (2.9 percent)

opponents of administration policy did so (neither referred to Vietnam).

Sixty-five (84.4 percent) of those respondents favoring the administration

in the area cited the threat to national security (23, or 29.9 percent, ofthese

also referred to Vietnam) while only 13 of those differing with the administration cited national security (only 4, or 5 .8 percent, of these referred

to Vietnam).

In attaching a specific set of meanings to the generalized notion of Vietnam, one group focused on external sources for problems emerging in various countries. The alternative group concentrated more on internal origins

of problems in each locality and region.

Congressman Richard Shelby (D-Ala.), a strong proponent of the administration's policies toward Central America, charged in a mailing to constituents : "Opponents of the president constantly resurrect the ghost of

Vietnam when criticizing the administration's policies . . . . Central America, however, is not Vietnam." He cited the Panama Canal, a potential

direct threat to the US southern flank, and a nearby "haven for revolutionaries" on our doorstep as crucial differences . "Raising the specter of

`another Vietnam' provides convenient cover for dereliction of duty," he

asserted . At the same time, however, Shelby made an apparent oblique

reference to the influx of the "boat people" fleeing from Southeast Asia

after the fall of the South Vietnamese regime and perhaps those leaving

Cuba and Haiti as well, warning of millions of "foot people" fleeing Communist governments in El Salvador, Honduras, and even Mexico, and of

"our borders being overrun by millions of hungry refugees who only desire

to live in peace.

"42 The "ghost of Vietnam," it would seem, could walk in

both directions, haunting some with memories of confusing policies and

confused execution while visiting others with nightmares offallen dominoes

and burdensome refugees.

Congressman William L. "Bill" Dickinson (R-Ala .), customarily supportive of administration policy on the use of armed force, also pointed

to the prospect of "additional hundreds of thousands of refugees" who

would flee countries such as El Salvador in the event of a takeover by

Communist forces. He referred to the refugee problems in Southeast Asia,

Cuba, and Nicaragua as precedent ; and he judged efforts to prevent a new

flood of refugees as justified "from a moral and humane perspective, and

our own self-interest . . . .

"43 Congressman Thomas N. Kindness (R-Ohio),

substantially supporting existing US government policies in Central America in his August-September 1983 constituent newsletter, distinguished the

present problem from the experience in Vietnam. "Unlike our involvement

in Vietnam, we have clearly defined objective and interest ." In addition,

83
should be that bloodbaths follow Communist takeovers. Hundreds ofthou

sands ofboat people drowned in an attempt to flee the concentration camps

and firing squads . When we talk about `another Vietnam,' that's the kind

of bloodletting we're talking about. . . .

"44

Senator Pete Wilson (R-Calif.) said, "Central America need not become

another Vietnam," but what he meant was that the Central American states

need not fall to Marxist insurgencies . He worried that the United States

might interpose itself in the region's affairs with damaging effect if it bought

time for either insurgents or the Sandinista government in Nicaragua, warning of "the same result which a US-negotiated `peace' brought to South

Vietnam and Cambodia." 4s

Congressman Thomas F. Hartnett (R-S.C.) argued from the apparent

effects of a cutoff in economic and military aid to South Vietnam in 1975

that Congress should support aid to the existing governments in Central

America in the 1980s to prevent new governments hostile to the United

States from taking power. The effects Hartnett imputed from refusal to

authorize the $700 million that Gerald Ford requested in 1975 were "three

million murders" in Cambodia, the extinction of human rights in Vietnam,

and the domination of Cambodia and Laos by Vietnam while it continued

"picking away" at Thailand . For Hartnett, such unpleasant results were the

real "folly of Vietnam," as well as the basis of the central lesson to be

learned. 46

Criticizing what he styled "the isolationist strains in our thinking," Congressman Jim Courter (R-N.J .) called for a different view. In a commencement address to the Admiral Farragut Academy in Toms River, NewJersey,

on 4 June 1983, Courter emphasized the need for US involvement in world

affairs even though that could sometimes lead to a decision to use military

force. The Vietnam experience, in his view, justified such an approach .

"After the war," he said, "bloodbaths occurred. Cambodia fell like a domino

and a holocaust occurred there. Countless Vietnamese risked their lives in

small boats to flee communism, and many died on the high seas ." Seeing

no hope for democracy in the areas under Hanoi's control; Courter linked

moral and strategic interests, and he criticized reluctance to intervene in

Central America as "[hiding] our head in the sand when the going gets

tough." 47 Memories of Vietnam clearly lingered ; but, just as clearly, they

did not mandate rejection of military or other involvement.

The prospects of immigrants flooding across the southern border of the

United States greatly concerned some in Congress . Congressman James V

Hansen (R-Utah) warned his correspondents that "one half million boat

people came to the US after the Marxist-Leninists triumphed in Vietnam"

and that "many Latins will flee that tyranny" if it is installed in Central

America.48 Congressman Robert J. Lagomarsino (R-Calif.) also cited the

84
gp

Policy in Central America," Lagomarsino repeated the estimate of "two to

seven million `foot people"' coming to the United States . "The economic

and social costs of the Vietnamese boat people were overwhelming," he

said, and a much larger influx of immigrants would constitute a "strain on

US security." 49

Even when dissenting somewhat from some specific aspects of administration policy concerning Nicaragua or El Salvador, some members of

Congress explicitly agreed with the most unqualified proadministration

spokesmen as to the importance of Central America for US strategic security. They shunned comparison of El Salvador with Vietnam. Congressman Robin Britt (D-N.C.), for example, thought that "we must avoid the

temptation to view El Salvador merely as another Vietnam. El Salvador is

of vital importance to our national interest due to its close proximity to

our borders," he added, "unlike Vietnam, which was thousands of miles

away." In addition, Britt said El Salvador had "a democratic government

elected in open elections" that should be supported and encouraged.s° Perhaps the fundamental difference he saw between the situations in El Salvador and in Vietnam was that El Salvador's comparative proximity to the

United States posed a greater threat to US security.

Congressman Shelby complained that opponents of administration policy in Central America "constantly resurrect the ghost of Vietnam"; but

at the same time, he used it to explain the importance of Central America.

The stake for US security in Central America clearly impressed Shelby,

who noted that Vietnam did not "sit astride our Panama Canal lifeline"

or "provide a haven for revolutionaries to gleefully perch on our doorstep."

Raising "the specter of [another Vietnam]" when US interests hinged on

the outcome of Central American developments struck Shelby as a "convenient cover for dereliction of duty."" Congressman Dan Schaefer (RColo.) similarly wrote that discussion of "our presence in Lebanon showed

the people's willingness to link any involvement abroad with the experience

of the Vietnam era.

"S2 Congressman Sam Hall (D-Tex.) focused on the

proximity ofCentral American nations to the United States . The potential

impact on US security of unfavorable outcomes in the region should discourage a simplistic reliance on "the expression [no more Vietnams]" in

charting US policy."

Some congressmen who explicitly referred to Vietnam in constituent mail

did so to deny connections between the experience in Vietnam and the

present circumstances in Central America. Congressman Larry E. Craig (RIdaho) styled it "an exercise in political drum-beating." 14 Craig denied that

the insurgency in El Salvador was a civil war, seeing the armed insurgents

there as players in an "ideological conflict" to which Cuba and the Soviet

85
jy

Senator Jeremiah Denton (R-Ala .), a supporter of administration policy

in Central America and elsewhere, observed on 8 March 1984 that the

United States had been hampered in its foreign policy efforts by the impact

of Vietnam. "Since Vietnam," he said, "we have been defeated in every

foreign policy issue of major importance confronting this Nation because

of . . . disunity . The Redskins could not beat Vassar that way, and we did

not beat a little country called North Vietnam because of the same insane

lack of bipartisanship of a common purpose of serving the interests of this

Nation .

"S6 Denton believed that the Vietnam experience had made potential adversaries think the United States could not defend its interests. He

even attributed the 1973 increase in oil prices to a belief that the United

States would not act.

s' Bipartisanship in foreign affairs remained the watchword ofthose concerned over support for the president. They passionately

objected to Soviet and Cuban interventionism, and they worried about

refugees and other consequences of instability.

Sources of Skepticism

Vietnam has been used to challenge administration policies, but the term

"using Vietnam" is not meaningful in itself. The open-endedness, flexibility, and ambiguity ofthe Vietnam experience make it like the proverbial

"picture worth a thousand words." Each person referring to Vietnam picks

one or another of the thousand words, perhaps changing his choices as

situations change .

What was distinctive about those who opposed administration policies

in the early 1980s? And what importance did their special emphasis have

for the US military? A clue lies in the frequency of reference to the War

Powers Act of 1975, especially when linked to the frequency with which

the Soviet Union or Cuba are cited as sources of local or regional problems

and to the degree of attention cast on the dependence of US national

security on the outcome of various regional difficulties . The number of

congressional respondents explicitly referring to the War Powers Act was

small, but most of those who did were out of sympathy with existing US

policies toward Central America and Lebanon. Eleven of the 13 (84.6 percent) respondents referring to the War Powers Act opposed the administration on Central American matters, and 12 (92.3 percent) opposed the

handling of US involvement in Lebanon. Only three (23.1 percent) respondents specifically mentioning the War Powers Act cited the Soviet

Union and Cuba as sources of problems in either region, and only one of

these did so in favor of administration policy in both areas. None of the

86
One could infer that the underlying concern of those citing the War

Powers Act was related to constitutional questions about the balance of

power between Congress and the president rather than external threats .

Even so, those citing the War Powers Act were also concerned over outside

parties becoming engaged in local and regional problems; and those who

emphasized the Soviet or Cuban part in Central American affairs shared

the concern over constitutional issues . The difference was quite possibly a

matter of balance and emphasis.

The War Powers Act did not specify that the United States avoid overseas

conflict but rather that the commitments be made case-by-case and be

sustained by agreement between the president and Congress. Opponents

of the administration's foreign policies in the early 1980s dissented from

the view that world politics was essentially bipolar. Departing from cold

war globalism, they focused on local circumstances to make sense out of

regional and local problems, playing down the US-Soviet relationship . They

particularly criticized the methods for making and executing US policy.

Their references to Vietnam focused on how the enterprise was conducted

and not on how it turned out.

Although both Republicans and Democrats were among the critics of US

policy on Central America and Lebanon, some Democratic members of

Congress were clearly more visible . Congressman Henry B. Gonzalez (DTex.), for example, prepared a column for the San Antonio Light dated 11

March 1984 in which he styled administration policy toward El Salvador

as "simply to support a Vietnam-like war." Describing the government in

Managua as "not even up to the standard of being wretched," he saw the

guerrillas as "winning a stalemate." Charging that local governments in

Central America suffered from corruption that was "routine and endemic,"

he concluded that "Central America today is a vivid reminder of Vietnam"

and that the practices of those governments simply strengthened the

guerrillas.s8

Congressman Gerry E. Studds (D-Mass.) agreed, comparing briefings on

conditions in Lebanon in the 1980s to those given on Vietnam in the 1960s:

"Congress was always told that just a little more money and just a few

more thousand soldiers would get the job done."s9

Studds and other congressmen sent letters to their colleagues in the House criticizing US policy

on Central America. They said a US presence made Honduras look less

like an independent country than like "a clone for the early days in

Saigon:

°60

Still, even when skepticism approached cynicism, how Vietnam was handled clearly surpassed the outcome of the conflict as the key concern. On

4 April 1984, for example, Senator Joseph R. Biden, Jr., of Delaware cited

Vietnam while expressing doubt that progress in training El Salvadoran

87
gg py g g

tion is really working . We are really on our way. It is really going to work."'6 '

"[Some] of us cynics from the Vietnam age," Biden noted, "are reminded

of similar things we were told about how Americans were not involved,

about how we were only training, but how gradually and gradually and

gradually our presence built up.

"62 The argument went beyond comparing

physical circumstances ; it touched on the fundamental credibility and trustworthiness of'policymakers and their principal agents.

. Sounding a cautionary note of US policy in Central America and calling

for reexamination of specific measures supported by US agencies, Senator

Daniel K. Inouye (D-Hawaii) took a more subdued tone. His concern focused on the thinking of US policymakers. Specifically, Inouye noted that

limited measures taken gradually had added up to a major commitment

even without full study of a "path we followed blindly" in the 1960s, one

which "led inexorably to American combat involvement.

"63 Superficial similarities were not the problem, and Inouye recognized differences in the

societies involved and in geography. It was the need to examine the cumulative impact of seemingly limited measures that most concerned Inouye. Unwilling to dismiss the "domino theory" out of hand, he alleged

that visions of Vietnam were greater among advocates of continued military

commitments to Central American countries. "They look toward Central

America and the demands for a negotiated end to the bloodletting," he

wrote, "and they see Laos; . . . they hear the ominous echo-Vietnam."

For him, the broad lessons of Vietnam had more to do with how the United

States acted than with how other nations acted toward the United States.

Inouye concluded that it was the administration which was fighting "the

battles of the past.

"6a

This discussion of methods lay at the heart of understanding goals. Indeed, methods sometimes seemed to be the litmus test of what one's goals

really were. For those skeptical of the US role in some trouble areas after

the mid-1970s, Vietnam pointed to the impossibility of separating means

from ends. Congressman Leon Panetta of California, for example, said it

was "of utmost importance that we not forget the lessons of Vietnam"

when dealing with problems in El Salvador. "The prospects for victory on

the battlefield will remain elusive as long as the guerrillas can continue to

draw support from the Salvadoran people.

"65 Recognizing that some kind

of military component to US involvement might be inevitable, he insisted

that the United States "recognize the limits of military force in resolving

the many complex problems in the region. . .

. "66 It was not a question of

whether force was wrong in itself-the question was whether force was

relevant to the specific situation.

88
y

It is true that many congressmen and others skeptical of administration

foreign policy did exploit the experience of Vietnam; but so did supporters

ofthe administration . Although critics may have cited Vietnam more often,

it was not to call for isolation. Instead, references to Vietnam from either

faction suggested the reappearance of a traditional dichotomy in American

political life . To speak of "politics" is not to deprecate the process, since

it merely means the public's business; and to speak of dichotomy is to

suggest neither disloyalty nor impropriety, since polarities grow naturally

in nonauthoritarian societies.

But serious problems in communication have often arisen whenever the

US Congress and the nation's military services have viewed the world from

widely divergent perspectives . The consequences of confusion can be serious, since the practical work of the military depends on funding. Force

structure and strategy should ideally follow policy. Although the military

must take its lead from the executive department, its credibility also depends on communicating with Congress and with many nongovernmental

parties . What has occurred in the past when criteria used by the military

have differed from those of Congress? What has resulted when the military

services have presented their budget request and other proposals based on

a false vision of prevailing congressional views? Could strategic force structure generate enthusiasm in a Congress interested in flexible response at

varying levels? If a service argued that forces designed to meet military

emergencies would also serve effectively in prolonged low-intensity conflicts, would Congress sense a conflict between ends and means? Many

more questions could be phrased; but the ultimate one is whether Congress,

the president, and the military can stay tuned to the same wavelength.

The resurgent interest among civilians in means and the goals they serve

may have marked the beginnings of a renaissance of trust in professional

military judgment. Having goals is an enshrined principle open to common

sense, but determining whether goals are attainable and relevant may require trained, skilled, and professional judgment.

The observation that US military officers have often been wary about

military commitments also fosters a readiness to look at the details of

military programs. It received additional support from Senator Gary Hart

(D-Colo.) who, in criticizing what he described as "alarming plans to increase sharply the American military presence in Central America," cited

midlevel military officers who had expressed "serious reservations about

the direction ofour Central American policy." 6' The very fact ofusing such

references suggests the compatibility between a focus on matching means

with ends and a positive regard for the views of military professionals.

It is not imperative that the military services take a "worst-case" view

89
py pgy g

were predisposed in the same direction during the era of cold war consensus. The question yet unanswered is how satisfactory a readjustment will

come as military professionals and political representatives realign in more

traditional ways and leave behind them the atypical alignments ofthe cold

war era.

The Vietnam War broke the bipartisan consensus on security and foreign

policy matters that had prevailed through the height of the cold war. It

may also have taken away much of the general attitude, supposition, and

inclination on which the consensus depended. The quest for a bipartisan

approach in the 1980s and beyond could be jeopardized by assuming that

only one set of assumptions prevailed. If different factions pressed competing sets ofassumptions and inclinations, each seeing itself as the essence

of "normalcy," confusion could become normal.

Notes

1. Discussions of the cold war era abound . Auseful commentary on the distinctive impact

of the cold war on US policy and, indeed, on American history is Lloyd C. Gardner, "The

Cold War in History," in Gardner, Architects ofIllusion (Chicago : Quadrangle Books, 1970).

On the perceived need for subordination of group or class issues to a "national consensus on

turning back the Soviets' economic challenge" during the Kennedy administration, see Bruce

Miroff, PragmaticIllusions (New York: David McKay Company, Inc., 1976), 169-72 . The need

for reasoned dissent from the official, consensus view on policy is a key theme in J. William

Fulbright, The Arrogance ofPower (New York: Vintage Books, 1966), while the "strategy of

consensus" is specifically lauded in Lyndon B. Johnson, The Vantage Point (London: Widenfeld

and Nicolson, 1971), 29-32. Although Johnson emphasizes the need for rallying after the

assassination of John F. Kennedy, the impulse toward consensus clearly extended to foreign

affairs as well as domestic matters.

2. On various aspects of the conflict between Federalists and Jeffersonian Republicans and

on the underlying differences in philosophical approach, see Richard H. Kohn, Eagle and

Sword (New York : Free Press, 1975). The linkage of domestic policy and what directions the

development of the United States should take with the nature of US foreign and defense

policy showed itself clearly in the "quasi-war" with France in 1798-1800. Howard P. Nash,

Jr., The Forgotten Wars (New York: A. S. Barnes, 1968); and Gardner W Allen, Our Naval

War with France (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1909). Similar differences lurked behind the

alternative notions of Federalists and Jeffersonian Republicans during the War of 1812 . Probably the best single volume on the war is John K. Mahon, The War of1812 (Chicago: University

of Chicago Press, 1965), although most major commentaries on the Federalist-Republican

clash appear in diplomatic histories, such as Julius W. Pratt, The Expansionists of1812 (New

York : P. Smith, 1949 [1925]). On the Federalist-Republican clash as a matter of military

theory, see Russell F. Weigley, The American Way of War (New York: Macmillan Publishing

Co., Inc., 1973), 40-55.

3. Concerning alternatives in the era of the Mexican War, a useful introduction is Frederick

Merk, Manifest Destiny and Mission in American History (New York: Knopf, 1963).

90
University Press, 1936).

5. The present argument accepts the notion that "checks and balances" applies not only to

domestic political matters but to foreign affairs as well, although the mechanisms for exerting

it are not the same in both spheres. The tradition of "checks and balances" within the US

military itself is well established, although it is rarely brought out for scrutiny and public

attention. The preservation of militia and national guardunits in the nineteenth century, even

while the regular forces were enhanced, was deliberate . The belief was that federal and state

interests varied sufficiently to support different, though not necessarily competing, purposes .

Even the arguments used during the military reorganization after World War II owed much

to the notion of checks and balances.

6. The fact that the change in policy after World War I did not constitute` isolation but

rather a return to traditional emphasis in military affairs emerges clearly in Edward M.

Coffman, The Hilt ofthe Sword (Madison : University of Wisconsin Press, 1966); and Daniel

R. Beaver, Newton D. Baker and the American War Effort, 1917-1919 (Lincoln: University of

Nebraska Press, 1966).

7. The survey was undertaken specifically for this study under sponsorship of the Airpower

Research Institute, Center for Aerospace Doctrine, Research, and Education. As is customary,

the requests forwardedto Congress were first sent to the local Public Affairs Office; andcopies

were also forwarded to Legislative Liaison at the Pentagon for information. The requests

occasioned no objections .

8. See appendix A for a copy of the initial inquiry.

9. The whole matter of how to assess material, especially along the lines suggested here,

involves some considerations of theory.Basically, the manner of argument used here depends

on "structuralism" such as has been pioneered by Claude Levi-Strauss. See, forexample, LeviStrauss, The Savage Mind (Chicago : University of Chicago Press, 1968).

10. The software programused was dBase II (Ashton-Tate, 1983). 11 . The generalassumption

in all cases was that respondents meant, basically, what they said. Interpretation focused on

how they said it . By this standard, less critical was sometimes more whether a respondent

favored or opposed a policy of the administration than why the respondent took the view he

or she did. For example, if a respondent had said only that the administration's policies

appeared sound, inferences could not proceed very far. But if a member's support for the

administration's policies was clearly attributed to agreement with the administration's methods in pursuing them, then reasonable inferences were possible .

12 . See appendix B for the full list of questions.

13 . Barney Frank, comments in the House of Representatives, 27 July 1983 (courtesy of

Congressman Frank's office).

14 . Lawrence J. Smith, comments in the House of Representatives, 27 July 1983 (courtesy

of Congressman Frank's office) .

15 . Bill Nelson, "Central America: What Next?" 29 July 1983 (courtesy of Congressman

Nelson's office) .

16 . Richard Cheney, "Congressman Dick Cheney Reports to Wyoming," November 1983

(courtesy of Congressman Cheney's office) .

17 . Gerry E. Studds, "Weekly Report to the People," 24February 1984; "Kissinger Defends

$9 Billion Aid Plan" (courtesy of Congressman Studds's office).

18 . House, Committee on Foreign Affairs, Central America, 1981: Report to the Committee

on Foreign Affairs, prepared by Hon Gerry E. Studds, 97th Cong., 1st sess ., 1981, Committee

Print, 31 .

19. Sam B. Hall, Jr ., comments in the House of Representatives on Central America, -n .d .

(courtesy of Congressman Hall's office).

20 . Richard Ray to Mrozek, letter, 14 March 1984 .

91
23 . Charles E. Bennett, comments in the House of Representatives, 28 September 1983

(courtesy of Congressman Bennett's office) .

24 . Congressman Ike Skelton, "Key Lessons of the United States Involvement in Lebanon"

(early 1984) (courtesy of Congressman Skelton's office) .

25 . Ibid.

26 . John McCain, speaking on US forces for use in Lebanon, in House, CongressionalRecord

129, no. 127, 98th Cong., 1st sess., 28 September 1983 (courtesy of Congressman McCain's

office).

27. David Durenberger, memorandum on Lebanon, 30 January 1984 (courtesy of Senator

Durenberger's office) .

28. David Durenberger, speaking on El Salvador and US policy in Central America, in

Senate, Congressional Record 129, no . 103, 98th Cong., 1st sess ., 20 July 1983 (courtesy of

Senator Durenberger's office) .

29. Ibid .

30. Ibid .

31 . The general emphasis on the indivisibility of means and ends provides a sense of the

abstract mechanism for determining criteria for appropriate action, but determining the specific substance of what is appropriate depends on concrete rather than abstract questions.

These latter specific matters help to reveal inclinations toward one or the other of the two

understandings of "normalcy" and to explain alignments in voting.

32 . Don Bonker, "Let's Adhere to Our Declaration," statement in the House of Representatives, 28 July 1983 (courtesy of Congressman Bonker's office).

33 . George J. Mitchell, speaking on US policy toward Central America, in Senate, Congressional Record 130, no. 44, 98th Cong., 2d sess ., 5 April 1984 (courtesy of Senator Mitchell's

office) .

34. Richard Cheney, "Why We Can't Ignore Central America," in constituent newsletter

for November 1983 (courtesy of Congressman Cheney's office).

35 . Richard Cheney, "Congressman Dick Cheney Reports . . . ," November 1983 (courtesy

of Congressman Cheney's office) .

36 . Bill Nelson, "Central America-What Next?" (courtesyof Congressman Nelson's office).

37. Richard H. Lehman, letter to constituents concerning Kissinger Commission Report,

29 February 1984 (courtesy of Congressman Lehman's office).

38 . Jim Slattery to Mrozek, letter, 6 March 1984 .

39 . Ibid .

40 . Alan Cranston, speaking on US military aid to El Salvador, in Senate, Congressional

Record 129, no . 23, 98th Cong., 1 st sess., 1 March 1983 (courtesy of Senator Cranston's office).

41 . Alan Cranston, speaking on US policy toward Lebanon, in Senate, Congressional Record

129, no. 127, 98th Cong., 1 st sess., 28 September 1983 (courtesy of Senator Cranston's office) .

42 . Richard Shelby, "A Message on Central America," n.d . (courtesy of Congressman Shelby's office) .

43 . William L. "Bill" Dickinson, weekly column, 1 March 1982 (courtesy of Congressman

Dickinson's office).

44 . Thomas K. Kindness, newsletter, August-September 1983 (courtesy of Congressman

Kindness's office) .

45 . Pete Wilson, letter to US senators reporting on Central American fact-finding tour, 20

September 1983 (courtesy of Senator Wilson's office) .

46 . Congressman Thomas F. Hartnett, letter concerning Central America, 12 September

1983 (courtesy of Congressman Hartnett's office).

47 . Jim Courter, "America As a Citizen of the World," commencement address at the

Admiral Farragut Academy, Toms River, New Jersey, 4 June 1983 .

92
49. Robert J. Lagomarsino, Foreign Affairs Report, US Policy in Central America,summer 1983 circular (courtesy of Congressman Lagomarsino's office) .

50 . Robin Britt to Mrozek, letter, 15 March 1984.

51 . Richard Shelby to Mrozek, letter, enclosure, 7 March 1984 .

52 . Dan Schaefer to Mrozek, letter, 14 March 1984 .

53 . Transcript of radio broadcast by Congressman Sam B. Hall, Jr., n.d . (courtesy of Congressman Hall's office) .

54 . Larry E. Craig, response to constituent mail, 12 February 1984 (courtesy of Congressman

Craig's office) .

55 . Larry E. Craig, response to constituent mail, 6 March 1983 (courtesy of Congressman

Craig's office) .

56 . Jeremiah Denton, remarks in the Senate, 8 March 1984, Congressional Record 130, no.

27 (courtesy of Senator Denton's office) .

57. Ibid .

58 . Henry B. Gonzalez, "Pay Attention to Central America," 11 March 1984, column prepared for the San Antonio Light (courtesy of Congressman Gonzalez's office) .

59. Gerry E. Studds, "Weekly Report to the People," 24 February 1984 (courtesy of Congressman Studds's office).

60 . Gerry E. Studds, Bob Edgar, Ted Weiss, Richard L. Ottinger, and James L. Oberstar to

colleagues in the House of Representatives, 25 January 1984 (courtesy of Congressman

Studds's office) .

61 . Joseph R. Biden, Jr., speaking on US policy toward El Salvador, in Senate, Congressional

Record 130, no. 43, 98th Cong., 2d sess . 4April 1984 (courtesy of Senator Biden's office) .

62 . Ibid.

63 . Daniel K. Inouye, "The Conflict in Central America," 1983 (courtesy of Senator Inouye's

office).

64 . Daniel K. Inouye, "News from Senator Daniel K. Inouye," 14 March 1983 (courtesy

of Senator Inouye's office) .

65 . Leon Panetta to Mrozek, letter, 19 March 1984 .

66 . Ibid.

67. Gary Hart to Mrozek, letter, 12 March 1984.

93
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 
ALTERNATIVE VISIONS:

THE WORLD BEYOND VIETNAM

The considerable residual interest in America's experience in Vietnam

has existed alongside a vigorous resurgence ofolder concerns and a riveting

curiosity about new trouble spots. By the early 1980s, Vietnam clearly

exercised no monopoly in supplying analogies through which to defend

current or proposed national policies on overseas matters. Other states (e.g .,

the Soviet Union, Great Britain, and Israel) provided enough grist for the

mills of both military and political analysts . By the end of 1983, moreover,

the United States had sufficiently engaged itself in other areas-Lebanon

and Grenada, for example-so that Vietnam, while hardly "ancient history," was fast becoming yesterday's news.

Although a full picture ofAmerican attentions during the 1970s and after

would require substantially more detailed study than has yet been done,

preliminary observations show a wide range of interest in foreign affairs

and a considerable assortment of metaphors for their treatment. Even as

a source of frustration, for example, the war in Southeast Asia had serious

competition from the Iranian hostage crisis suffered during the latter half

of the Carter administration .' And the sense that the United States had

substantial responsibility in the evolution of the Vietnam War was moderated by the Chinese militaryaction against Vietnam. Similarly, the Soviet

entry into Afghanistan provided interest in a different part of the world.

Other Wars, Other Analogies

The diverse experiences and events involving the United States and other

countries after the mid-1970s provided a broad base from which lessons

could be sought, from which explanatory analogies might be drawn, and

from which future policy concerns might be derived. There was truly no

limit on what could be construed as relevant, given the continued global

scope of US interests, and the countries with national power less than that

of the major world powers acted with sufficient independence to afford

analogies of their own.

A variety of real or perceived lessons was posed by various parties as

sources of guidance for US policy in Central America. References to such

95
in the Senate and the House or in materials sent to constituents. Senator

Jeff Bingaman of New Mexico, for example, warned that a failure of the

anti-Sandinista contras in Nicaragua, if they were backed by the United

States, could confront the United States "with a repeat of the unfortunate

Bay of Pigs scenario." He added: "One Nicaraguan, when asked where the

Contras would go if they failed, replied 'Miami.""

In a similar vein, Senator John Danforth of Missouri saw a range of

available historical illustrations that suggested what might happen if the

US government withdrew from its Central American commitments . Senator Danforth, who supported efforts to strengthen the government of El

Salvador militarily as well as economically, added that the experience of

the Cambodians, Poles, Afghans, and others showed what could happen if

such aid were not provided. As to supporting anti-Sandinista forces, Danforth allowed that US policy should not entail support for insurgents in an

internal power struggle under normal circumstances . But he accepted it as

necessary in the circumstances that actually existed .'

The Soviet presence in Afghanistan provided a focus of attention that

superseded US involvement in Vietnam and clarified what many observers

were coming to see as one of Vietnam's central lessons: vacillation and

uncertainty in the prosecution of the war. In an article for the New York

Times on 26 December 1983, military writer Drew Middleton asserted:

"The most significant conclusion that can be drawn . . . is that, whatever

else it is, Afghanistan is not the Russians' Vietnam.

"4 First, the Soviets had

evidently identified what they regarded as a genuine critical interest at

stake-the prospect ofan "anti-communist, Islamic country on the borders

of the Soviet Union's Moslem republics in Soviet Central Asia. . .

."I Second, the Soviets' control of information at home reduced chances of "political turbulence." Synthesizing the assessment, Middleton quoted an

unnamed expert: "We got tired of Vietnam. The Russians are not going to

get tired of Afghanistan. It's too close to them and too close to the Indian

Ocean. They'll stay.

"6 One of the lessons of Afghanistan, then, appeared to

be that action should be decisive and steady once a determination is made

that significant national interests are at risk.

A difference occasionally cited between US and Soviet ways of handling

guerrilla resistance was the Soviet use ofa far greater, even ruthless, steadiness in what George Will called a "savage strategy.' 17 Citing the wide scattering of antipersonnel mines throughout Afghanistan, Will noted: "These

weapons of indiscriminate yet limited violence express a strategy of unlimited war by the world's largest army against an entire population."' He

assessed the reasoning through which the Soviets had evidently come to

their approach. They answered Mao's dictum that the guerrilla was like a

fish swimming in the sea of the people not by "winning the allegiance of

96
the "Soviet Union has analyzed various failures, including America

s, in

counterguerrilla warfare and has concluded that the key to success is a kind

of ruthlessness that only a totalitarian regime will practice . "'° If Vietnam

lingered here, it was as a lesson for the Soviets and not as a specter haunting

US thinking in world affairs.

In place of any real or imagined unitary model for guiding US policy,

reports circulated that government policymakers and analysts were increasingly prone to call on a host ofpast American experiences . In October 1983,

for example, one detailed commentary listed several analogies that had

supposedly disposed US officials to favor sending US armed forces into

Grenada. Allegedly, President Ronald Reagan was concerned that Grenada

not become "another Iran," where Americans might be held hostage by a

harsh and unpredictable regime . In the desire to cut off chances that the

island would become an outpost of Cuba and the Soviet Union and to

lessen a tide toward radicalism, Secretary of State George Shultz and others

supposedly sought to avert "another Nicaragua." Others, fearful of a drift

into leftist extremism after the coup d'6tat staged against the government

of Maurice Bishop in Grenada, were said to worry over "another Suriname." Yet another analogy discussed in Washington soon after the start

of US operations in Grenada was President Lyndon Johnson's decision to

send 21,000 troops to the Dominican Republic in 1965 in order to prevent

a move to the left in that country's government, which Johnson apparently

believed would deteriorate into civil chaos."

To be sure, the precise meaning and validity of reports in the open press

concerning views of governmental officials are themselves matters of estimation-perhaps even some plain guesswork. Nonetheless, it is suggestive

of the framework of concerns in the early 1980s that the analogies cited

during discussion of Grenada did not primarily establish legality as the

essential basis for action. Instead, circumstances of need were more important, and the final demonstration of the wisdom of an action was that

it did manage to stave off the undesired political or social outcome against

which the action was undertaken. Seen critically, such an approach might

be a challenge to the US moral advantage in world affairs . Seen more

sympathetically, however, it suggested a special sort of pragmatism. It also

surely marked a passage beyond the dominance of any one historical example as the guiding force for present policy.

One commentator who did make explicit use of lessons drawn from the

Vietnam War applauded the Reagan administration's move on Grenada.

In "Central America and the Lessons of Vietnam," published in the Autumn-Winter 1983 issue of Survey, Sol Sanders, formerly a correspondent

in Southeast Asia and then an editor of Business Week, liked the "more

decisive attitude" the action represented, calling it a "forthright attempt

97
States might ultimately be proved an 

unreliable partner,and he backed

a long-term commitment to meet what he saw as a protracted Communist

threat ." As often as not, analogies other than those of Vietnam lent themselves to deliberations on US policy; and even when they did not, the

analogies of Vietnam, themselves numerous and diverse, did little to tie

the hands of those affected by them. The urgency that various observers

attached to the problems was as likely as anything to govern what the

analogies supposedly meant.

Beyond Crisis

The reluctance on the part of some Americans to identify various problems facing the United States as "crises" increased the chances of disagreement over what constituted appropriate action when those problems

invited a US response; and the difficulties would be at their worst and

sharpest if there were occasion to question the goodwill of those most

responsible for making and enforcing policy. In his column for 17 .February

1984, conservative political commentator William Safire seriously questioned not the substance of then current US policies, including those in

the Middle East, but he character of the arguments advanced in their

support." Safire compared Soviet definitions of Yuri Andropov's fatal illness as "croup" to the US government's decision to withdraw its Marines

from Lebanon and it referred to Congressman Thomas P. O'Neill's call for

withdrawal as a "surrender." The comparison was less than flattering. Safire

also saw a major difference between Secretary of the Navy John Lehman's

explanation that shelling targets in Lebanon from ships stationed offshore

would provide "supporting fire to the Lebanese forces" and President Reagan's assertion, at nearly the same time, that the shelling was to enhance

the safety of American and other MNF personnel in Lebanon." Safire

wanted more than a coherent "straight line"; he wanted one that was simple,

straightforward, and truthful. He warned sharply that "mendacity is not

the road to credibility" and cautioned against "twisting the truth to create

the appearance of legality ."" He suggested that the problem originated

largely in the sense of crisis, but insisted that "`the -truth will make you

free' is not an empty piety." ' 6 Apart from the tart force of his remarks, it

is perhaps most useful to note that Safire did not dispute specific elements

of the US policies being advanced-he challenged the methods used to

defend those policies, and he worried that shaping governmental words and

actions according to the turns of crisis "damages our system" more than

actions undertaken hurt the enemy." The preservation of "our system"

would be the key to coherent policy and action over the long run.

18

98
spots, and there appeared to be many reasons for it . To be sure, personal

pique and institutional self-interest on the part of the press and electronic

media may have played a part, but this was hardly the whole story; nor

would it have been sufficient to explain any measure of popular sympathy

that eventually developed for their position. Nor would it explain away the

issue of relative responsibility of Congress and the president in the development of either a national consensus or a national overseas policy. For

example, congressional leaders who had overseen the House subcommittee's investigation of the bombing of the US Marine barracks in Beirut in

October concluded that "erroneous, misleading, and often contradictory"

information had been given by Marine commanders in Beirut and Washington. ' 9 Evidently, part of the difficulty had stemmed from the particular

way in which the initial information had been given during the first days

after the attack and by the impression of certitude projected by such a highranking spokesman as Marine Corps Commandant Gen Paul X. Kelley. In

a statement on 1 November 1983, General Kelley cautiously asked for

patience "while Itry to tell a story ofwhat we think, at this time, happened";

in his opening remarks in Senate testimony the previous day, however, he

began without such qualification, saying, "I would now like to describe

what occurred on Sunday morning, October 23 . .

. . "2° It was open to speculation whether General Kelley's more confident remarks reflected a wish

to seem "in control" in time of crisis . Some nurtured suspicion of a coverup, less because a discrepancy had developed than because of the firmness

with which the contradictory explanations had been expressed. It was a

classic "no-win situation ." Assuming there was no wish to deceive the

question of competence lingered; and close scrutiny of an event entailing

the death of hundreds of US servicemen, was inevitable. 2 ' Was there any

imaginable gain in presenting anything other than the fullest truth-which

meant noting the unknowns and admitting to one's own uncertainties?

The accumulating testimony offered by US servicemen stationed in Lebanon did little to support the "take-charge" attitude depicted by various

officials-remarks which suggested that their confusion and imprecision

as to the whole point of a US' Marine presence in Lebanon was appreciable .

But the impression created by comments from the Marines also suggested

the extreme difficulty of meshing a crisis consciousness with a passive or

defensive disposition of forces. Contrasting the peacekeeping operation in

Lebanon and the Marine role in the US action in Grenada shortly after

the bombing of the Marine barracks in Beirut, Marine Cpl John Hargrove

said that Grenada was a "real go-at-it kind of job" but the mission in

Lebanon was "just a sit-back situation . I never met a Lebanese."22 LCpI

Samuel Lee remarked:

99
use all our weapons. The enemy was real clear. But we couldnt do those things

here. We just didn't know who was the enemy. The Moslems? The Christians?

The Lebanese Army?z3

The discomfort with what they saw as a passive role may well have

contributed to the Marines' perception that the mission itself was unclear.

Lt John LaTorre noted that in Lebanon, unlike Grenada, Marines and other

service personnel were called on to perform in ways for which they had

not been effectively trained. "This antiterrorism work we had to do here

was kind of new to us," he added. "We were writing the book on it as we

went along."2 a Evidently lacking either the sense that they were prepared

or the conviction that past experiences such as those in Vietnam might

provide the suitable guide for their performance, such remarks invited the

question, "Was the insufficient preparation for such contingencies as were

encountered in Lebanon more the source of urgency and the sense of crisis

than were the actual US interests at stake there?" Sgt James Utley, who

had been in the first deployment ofMarines in Lebanon during late August

and early September 1982 to aid in the evacuation of Palestinian Liberation

Organization fighters, returned later in September and came back for a

third time in November 1983. "It got a lot different when I came back in

November." Asked what the Marines were expected to do at the airport

where they were stationed during the second phase of commitment, he said

"It's hard to pin down." And LCpI Donald Melton said of their mission:

"Whatever it was, I guess we accomplished it . I thought we were here to

keep the airport open. We didn't do that. Nothing we can do now except

just get outta here.

"25 Perhaps the range in understanding among the ranks

was exemplified by the sharply differing comments of two Marine corporals. Cpl Fred Garrison commented: "Our job was to keep the perimeter

secure . Anything else we did just came along in time"; but Cpl Gerivele

Brown said: "We were supposed to show American interests . It was a political thing for sure.

"26 When clarity faltered and the sense of purpose

became confused, the temptation rose to locate crises very close to homenot with the achievement of an abstract objective, but in the safety of

oneself and one's unit. That matters were critical for those deployed in an

area fraught with dangers needed no elaboration; that it was critical to US

interests to have them deployed there was the proposition that had not won

a consensus of support.

Urgency and crisis had been a basis for rallying Americans to march in

common with little discussion and less dissent; but after the skeptical side

of the American tradition made its return, crisis itself became a candidate

100
whether suspending some aspect of traditionally American ways of doing

things might be allowed. Whether individual and group interests were to

be subordinated to a common good depended essentially on whether common good could be demonstrated . Even if such temporary adjustments

occurred, however, there could be a serious toll to pay if the originally

credible demonstration was eventually shot through with holes.

There were risks that this could occur in a great many situations, but the

realm of press censorship with respect to US operations in Grenada in late

1983 proved to be a vivid illustration . Although the restriction of press

access to Grenada at the time of US military operations there late in 1983

won much positive reaction initially, concern later arose that the full story

of what had occurred there might not have been released. The early disclosures of arms stocks and of documents suggesting the basis for longterm links between Grenada and the Communist-bloc countries did much

to support the US government's stand that legitimate security interests had

been involved in these regional affairs-in short, that the regional problem

was part of a larger set of global issues . But would the entire explanation

hold?

The substance of what occurred in the management of news concerning

the Grenada operation deserves full-scale treatment in its own right, but

it is particularly pertinent here to emphasize that the goal of keeping the

public understanding ofthe operation as simple as possible was itself widely

taken as an intended remedy for the ills of Vietnam and for the confusion

that press reports about Vietnam were said to have generated . Historian

George C. Herring, writing in the Baltimore Sun on 3 November 1983, saw

improper readings of Vietnam's lessons as a partial explanation for the

zealous defense offered of censorship exercised during the US military

operations on Grenada. Herring disputed allegations that the manner in

which the American media reported the Vietnam Warhad turned the American public against it, suggesting that the growing cost of the war in lives

lost and taxes paid was the truly decisive factor-"not media portrayal of

the war but the war itself that produced growing skepticism among the

American public.

"27 Not denying that there was some opposition to the war

from the start, Herring notes that "most major newspapers supported the

war editorially until late 1967, some well beyond. Content analysis indicates

that at least until 1968 network news broadcasts tended overwhelmingly

to be neutral or to support the war.

"28 The central thrust of his remarks

was not to deny that the media played a role, nor to ignore the issue of

bias, but rather to insist that the first sources of trouble for the Vietnam

War were how it was conceived and how it was fought. Consequently,

Herring rejected the implication that military success depended on con101
explanations . . . .Unwilling to find such an explanation in ourselves, we

seek it in "scapegoats .

"29 This was a proclivity that the failures in Vietnam

had apparently been unable to dislodge, and it reappeared-an American

lesson drawn from British behavior in the Falklands, itself rooted in a

perception of what had happened in Southeast Asia.

Similarly, Henry Grunwald attributed the Reagan administration's endorsement ofcensorship in the Grenada operation to its perception ofwhat

happened in America over Vietnam. "Obviously," Grunwald wrote in Time

on 7 November 1983, "the White House or the Pentagon remembered the

Viet Nam 'living-room war"' and "admired and envied Margaret Thatcher's dealing with the press during the Falklands invasion. . . ." But Grunwald suggested that the decision to restrict the press during the Grenada

action was counterproductive . "Whenever the press is excluded," Grunwald

observed, "speculation and rumor take over." Before long, as US military

spokesmen acknowledged that resistance was continuing several days after

troops were committed, "the result was vague and nagging alarm, a suspicion that the world's largest military power had trouble subduing a flyspeck island ." 30 Perhaps a more usefully drawn lesson from the Vietnam

experience might have focused on the way in which transmission of information to media representatives can produce results contrary to the hopes

and expectations of military spokesmen-and on how the manner in which

military officers handle informationintended for the media can sometimes

jeopardize their own credibility.

Somewhat ironically, despite concerns that the press and electronic media

might be unfair to the US military when reporting on US operations, some

observers believed that the press could become an extremely effective allyand even believed that Army officers were beginning to see the press less

as a problem or barrier and more as an opportunity . In one commentary

on the matter, for example, Army Col Harry Summers spoke of the "growing awareness that the very news media that many in the Army complained

about so bitterly during the Vietnam War for their vivid portrayals of the

realities of the battlefield is precisely the instrument that can `make the

price of involvement clear."' To its own surprise, Summers continued, "the

Army is becoming aware that television portrayals of battlefield realities

is an asset, not a liability." 3 i The role of the press, in this construction,

included establishing a clear baseline of popular support-not to serve as

a cheering section or propaganda vehicle but as a catalyst for shaping whatever the real wishes and interests of the people were. In this process, the

press could thus contribute mightily to the development of clarity and

coherence in policy. Admittedly, this was something of an ideal statement

of what was thinkable; whether it could be carried off was far more a matter

of controversy .

102
involvements in specific, case-by-case terms. Whether this meshed with the

underlying instincts of the press was not the only question, however;

whether it paralleled the thrust among policymakers deserved at least as

much attention . Danger might arise if the case-by-case approach suggested

among some military officers, and reflected in Summers's rather optimistic

notions of dealing with the press, ran headlong against a "blanket" approach at the policy level. For example, Tom Wicker wrote of his fears that

US policy objectives were stated in such categorical and overly general

terms that, sooner or later, major problems must arise. In the New York

Times of 15 March 1983, writing about what he called two "dangerous

doctrines," Wicker focused on President Reagan's identifying El Salvador

as essential to US national security and the possibility that the United

States might be unable to strengthen Salvadoran government forces sufficiently to end the guerrilla resistance. How, under such circumstances,

could the President "stand by and see El Salvador become the first domino

in a string reaching to the Rio Grande? Or, will he not then be forced by

his own words to stronger action?" 3 z Wicker did not dispute that interventions with a military component could be justified ; but he was troubled

by what he saw as the implications of very broad statements on policy,

seeing the greatest source of danger in the attitude from which the policy

stemmed more than in the specific actions that had actually been taken.

Wicker suggested that the administration was casting its Central American

policies and actions into the framework of a bipolar confrontation between

the United States and the Soviet Union and, by doing so, was "inviting

exactly a repetition ofthe Vietnam experience" by making the real criterion

for United States involvement Washington's stance toward Moscow rather

than its appraisal of El Salvador."

The assertion that the American press had a right to be present during

a US military enterprise on foreign soil entailed both an interpretation of

what had been traditional procedure on such matters in previous American

wars and on what constituted appropriate "normalcy." The defense of a

departure from such procedures as were sanctioned in American tradition

could be made credible by appealing to the novelty of special circumstances

in the contemporary world, by claiming that US forces would be unusually

threatened by the presence of press members, by seeing some special urgency in the moment and invoking an aura of crisis, or by some combination. In all cases, however, the keynote was a departure from some

elements of "normalcy" and tradition . It was precisely this sense of special

urgency and crisis that appeared to face challenge and to raise doubts and

worries among various observers outside the administration .

103
The interaction of crisisand normalcylay beneath broad defense

concepts as well as specific incidents. Deterrence theory, that special child

of the nuclear age, has depended on belief in a network of assessments and

assumptions that had special force after World War 11 . Advocates of defending the country by dissuading a potential enemy from attacking needed

to believe that they had sufficient force with which to make their threat of

retaliatory response credible, and the enemy needed to believe it, too. 3a

Proponents of deterrence had to justify such a theory by acknowledging

their own vulnerability to a strike-a strike that atomic weapons would

make exceptionally devastating even if the enemy had lost an immense

percentage of his attacking force. 35 In the end, though, there were two

categories of concerns without whose survival the whole special theory of

deterrence would inevitably fall into doubt. These had to do with matters

of disposition and philosophical outlook, the technical details of the apparatus of deterrence, and the measure of complexity invoked to use and

protect the apparatus itself.

The general notion that a potential enemy could be discouraged from

carrying out hostile actions by raising a credible threat of a strong reaction

in kind is deeply ingrained in the history of human expectations . Although

the case for peaceful resolution of difference has been couched principally

on grounds of logic and in assertions of reasonableness, the case of deterrence of enemy attack uses logic and an underlying appeal to a less benign

interpretation of "human nature ." The two approaches are obviously related; but there is a critical difference between the two in the balance of

hope and expectation. 36 Although it is perhaps more common for advocates

of peaceful resolution of conflict through diplomacy and similar processes

to be charged with having a "blanket" view of mankind as good, it is more

important for purposes here that deterrence tends toward a "blanket" suspicion of human motivation. The extensiveness of the view is as significant

as the attitude it represents, since it makes the more suspicious inclinations

more impervious to contradiction by specific cases that seem not to fit the

pattern. Since motivation itself is suspect, even an action that seems practically beneficial can be seen as a source of anxiety. None of this was novel

to the post-World War II era when taken in its generalities, but it did take

on special sharpness and urgency because of the special immensity and

visibility of nuclear weapons.31

As a theory and as an articulated element in strategy, then, deterrence

was an assertion of consciousness rather than a fact . By literal definition,

a fact was something that had occurred; by implication, it could be demonstrated empirically. With deterrence, however, it was impossible to prove

that the absence of war was caused by one's defensive preparations rather

than a prior or separate unwillingness of one's opponent to attack. Peace

104
deterrence focused on its credibility to the potential enemy, then, it was

the United States that needed to be persuaded. In this sense, deterrence

could only have emerged as part of a conscious effort to make sense out

of unusual security needs in an unusually dangerous world in hopes of

winning some peculiar peace of mind."

In all, the rise of consciously articulated deterrence theory and policy

depended on a special, atypical combination of views that gave a particular

interpretation to world conditions. Coming after a war described as one

between forces of good and those of evil, deterrence was facilitated by the

deeply negative appraisals of the Soviet Union and of the Communists in

China. It was boosted by the domestic fear of subversion as much as by

the Soviet attainment of atomic and then thermonuclear weapons, especially because disclosure of Soviet espionage operations in the United States

and Canada helped to link the two." So, then, the clarity of deterrence was

related to the simplicity of the public, and possibly the official, perception

of the world at the time. The persuasiveness and adequacy of the theory

was thus rooted in a very special time and an unusual set of circumstances .

Although the underlying truth remained that the possession of force may

dissuade a potential attacker from carrying out an aggressive act, the specific validity of deterrence in its highly articulated versions might not survive a change in those unusual circumstances without a change in the

manner and character of argument used in support of it . For if some were

predisposed to doubt an argument rooted in a "blanket" suspicion of human nature, was not doubt likely to sharpen if specific events and practical

contacts between the opposing parties tore holes in the argument?

Such a development was all the more likely as greater numbers ofAmericans focused on case-specific analysis and as the broader cold war consensus came under challenge. Although the Vietnam experience may have

hastened the reexamination of that consensus, it was not Vietnam itself

that thus posed a challenge to the theory and policy of deterrence but rather

the far broader return to patterns of thought that had been common before

the world wars. The problem in the 1980s was how to maintain the substance of deterrence while the generalized rhetoric used in its defense appeared to be facing challenge and losing effectiveness .

The specific illustrations of this dilemma surrounded the discussions of

strategic weapon systems, particularly as to which new systems should be

developed and later deployed. Perhaps the most controversial and the most

emblematic debate came over the proposals for an "MX" missile, later

designated as "Peacekeeper" by President Ronald Reagan. No discussion

of MX/Peacekeeper would be complete-or balanced-without recognizing certain deep-seated differences between its proponents and opponents.

Beyond all the technical details of the missile and its warheads, the rock105
the part of various American constituencies. Proponents of such a missile

tended to see greater security in the qualitative improvement ofUS strategic

arms, sometimes speaking ofa "window of vulnerability" which the United

States had incautiously opened for a possible attacker; the missile's opponents saw greater insecurity as stemming from the very building of the

weapon itself. 4° This most basic underlying difference of views, for all its

importance, was only one of several forces affecting the debate and illustrating some aspects of the broader readjustment in approaches toward

defense and other public policy issues .

The nature ofthe debate and the lines ofargument used reflect the critical

importance of the reemergence of "particularism" or case-by-case assessment of US interests and commitments . Seen in its very broadest and most

general aspect, the MX/Peacekeeper was meant to strengthen one element

in the US strategic Triad, which various governmental officials, as well as

some civilian analysts, had concluded was in jeopardy. For some, including

certain highly placed officials, the clear imperative of preserving the strategic Triad outweighed numerous other considerations ; and the adoption

of this view was by no means a rigidly partisan view. For although the

missile came to be associated with the Republican administration of Ronald

Reagan as it moved into production and deployment in the 1980s, it was

the administration of Democrat Jimmy, Carter that settled on both the

missile and a highly visible and controversial plan for its deployment.41

This issue was not party affiliation but an essentially unquestioning bedrock

commitment to the concept ofthe strategic Triad as the heart of deterrence.

Against this broad view, opponents of the MX/Peacekeeper raised what

some considered "nit-picking" criticisms. Assuming that the weapon could

be built and deployed, what benefit would come from Carter's deployment

scheme and how long would it last? If the goal was to have an invulnerable

strategic reserve, what deployment scheme would promise this? What were

the various data bases on which the assessments ofpotential invulnerability

to incoming nuclear attacks had been made? What suppositions had been

made as to the dynamics of behavior on the part of a potential enemy,

including possible responses to measures the United States might take?

Even accepting that such critical questions were intended to lower the

likelihood that congressional authorization and funding of MX/Peacekeeper would be approved, the choice of strategies by which to attack the

MX/Peacekeeper program was itself informative . It was neither "security"

nor "defense" that was criticized, but rather the unspoken call for faith in

professional technological expertise and, even more, in the judgment of the

highest military professional and civilian governmental authorities. Against

this, the more skeptical parties called not for "revival" but for a speci106
The argument about the MX/Peacekeeper thus entailed an extraordinary

amount of attention to the practical aspects of its design characteristics

and its deployment options. Whether such close concern over how the MX

would operate and how the basing would be done was proper or merely

intrusive was a matter of opinion. From one perspective, the grasp by

outsiders and nonexperts at the very innards of a strategic policy seemed

stunningly inappropriate . From another perspective, however, the running

disagreements among defense analysts brought their expertise into some

doubt. Meanwhile, as changes occurred in the official version of how MX

would be deployed, military officers seemed to experience overnight conversion to a new deployment creed; and they suffered their own loss of

credibility for their apparent apostasy . With a swiftness that literally defied

belief, military personnel darted from one deployment scheme to anothersuch as the system of multiple protective shelters, that of densely locating

the missiles in hardened silos, and so forth-seeking to stay in line with

current official wisdom and yet to keep an eye toward possibly better options. Notions of burying the missiles deeply underground,43 setting them

out in shallow coastal waters, or carrying them aboard aircraft also

appeared.

But perhaps the greatest question emerged less from the diversity of

voices on the subject than from precisely how they diverged in what they

said and what they thought. Looking at only two schemes (multiple protective shelters and closely spaced basing), the official defense community

appeared not only to have changed its mind but to have radically altered

its logic. The fundamental premise of the multiple shelter system was essentially the same as that of a shell game (keep the potential enemy guessing

while the stakes were high enough that action without certainty was far

beyond the tolerances of good sense). Scattered over an area described as

roughly the equivalent of Pennsylvania, the system used dispersal coupled

with deception . The supposition that closely spacing the MXs would induce

"fratricide," in which early detonations of enemy warheads would destroy

or disable the balance of incoming rounds, turned the logic of the vast

multiple shelter scheme upside down. What if warheads were brought in

piecemeal over a long period of time? Would this "pin down" the US

missiles? What if the enemy sent in warheads that would be activated by

the launching of MXs? And what credibility did the argument that Soviet

countermeasures to it were not feasible have,- given the state of Soviet

technology-especially when the argument in favor of MX as a whole was

linked to the belief that Soviet technological versatility (specifically, the

ability to develop MIRVs) had been grossly underestimated by earlier analysts? Matters seemed to be approaching what turn-of-the-century military

thinker Homer Lea called "intangible complexity which heralded the splin107
Clarity of purpose, coherent strategy, and steadiness of effort are virtues

in peace no less than in war. But on the matter of MX-and most visibly

on the question of basing-civilian and military defense personnel spoke

in a multitude of voices. (Experts favoring a new missile debated what kind

of basing mode was needed to guarantee the system against attack. But in

making their cases, they used clearly contradictory arguments-and an

argument rooted in expert authority can easily be refuted when the expert's

testimony is inconsistent .)

Some officials have indicated a wish that the debate had never gone into

technical matters. They evidently meant "technical" to include both the

mechanics of the missile and the strategic logic for its integration into

overall defense . Yet what appears to be the emerging reassertion of caseby-case examination of US interests and actions in world affairs seems to

run-headlong against reliance on expert judgment. The world of defense

and "security beyond deterrence" may well prove to be inimical to "blanket" explanations of weapon systems and strategic thought on how to use

them. As officials have broadened the scope and means of deterrence to

include the full spectrum of conflict, the single focus of the era that gave

it birth appears to have been replaced by a more kaleidoscopic vision .

Deterrence may have acquired too many meanings to permit the cultivation

of "prior trust" for the proposals and policies of any government agency

or administration . Was it possible in a world of many lessons, many analogies, and many models to find a shared perspective on events? In a world

of many competing interests, was it possible to achieve some consensus?

And since moving away from a Vietnam-linked world also entailed moving

away from cold war consciousness to something more multifaceted, were

there any bases left for a common national grounding on defense-related

matters?

Masters of Our Fate

In a test conducted at the State University of New York at Stony Brook

in 1970, a team of researchers told two groups that they would be given

relatively painful stimuli-but at different levels of intensity. Although the

actual level of stimulus used with each group was the same, the group that

believed it was receiving less of a pain-causing stimulus actually showed

less physical reaction and sensed itself to be in less discomfort. The researchers concluded: "Perhaps the next best thing to being master of one's

fate is being deluded into thinking that one is . .

. . "4s In some measure, the

pursuit of real but intangible goals must always approximate such self

persuasion. The borderline that can't be crossed without risking calamity

108
present . In other words, the interpretation offacts into intangible meanings

may be legitimate; the delusion that hopes are facts is not. Such a logic

might be applied as an experimental test of the difference between aspiration and desperation-between intention and illusion-in international

relationships .

The perceived level of gain sustained in world affairs is partly a function

of the anticipated level ofgain; and that depends, partly, on what objectives

are seen to constitute a gain. In the American case, the preservation of

substantial influence in world affairs has been a fundamental component

in the vision of gain that has largely prevailed since World War 11 . 46 The

alternatives of "drift and mastery" have along history within the American

political mentality; and the image of a capable, forceful leadership couched

in the rhetoric of "taking control" is commonplace. The ultimate challenge,

however, was to make fact rather than fantasy the true measure of mastery.

The process of acting in world affairs has typically required understanding of interests either promised or put to risk by various policy alternatives.

Even in times of patent danger, such as the period after the Japanese attack

on Pearl Harbor, US officials saw the wisdom of sponsoring a media campaign to outline "why we fight." A rudimentary response could have been

that the United States fought because it had been attacked, but governmental officials recognized that the public had a need to understand what

could have been lost if the United States had failed to react. In the years

after World War II, the residual sense of "why we fought" and why a cold

war against a hostile ideology had to be accepted, however reluctantly,

lingered ; yet the more tangled and the more subtle the reasonings, the harder

it became for anyone but the most sophisticated to see the fine thread that

tied them together. And so, although the Vietnam War has at times been

credited with destroying the cold war consensus, it is at least as possible

that the old consensus, which was already showing strains after the Cuban

missile crisis and in the days of peaceful coexistence, could have been killed

by peace without any additional help. If the consensus faltered because

public consciousness was less swayed by assertions of crisis, what new consensus could be established? The answers pointed in the direction of interests (positive manifestations of what the United States might want)

rather than crisis .

Notes

1 . So powerful was the image of US citizens-especially officials-held captive in Iran that

fear of "another Iran" was used as apartial explanationforPresident Ronald Reagan's decision

109
gg

149 (courtesy of Senator Bingaman's office) .

3. John C. Danforth to Mrozek, letter, 26 March 1984.

4. Drew Middleton, "Four Years of Afghan Battle : No Vietnam for Moscow," New York

Times, 26 December 1983, 8.

5. Ibid .

6. Ibid .

7. George F. Will, "Savage Strategy," Washington Post, 5 January 1984, 23 .

8. Ibid .

9. Ibid.

10. Ibid .

11 . Ibid. Will's argument raises a curious question as to whatpolicies were worth undertaking

for a country such as the United States. Since ruthlessness was evidently beyond its capacity

andsince the effort to "win hearts and minds" in Vietnam hadnot been adequate,` one wonders

if the United States had any options left for countering insurgency and guerrillas . On Soviet

behavior in Afghanistan, also see Cord Meyer, "Recognizing the Courage of Afghan Freedom

Fighters," Washington Times, 5 January 1984, 1-C.

12 . Gwertzman, "Fear of `Another Iran,"' 1 .

13 . William Safire, "Truth in Crises," New York Times, 17 February 1984, 27 .

14. Ibid .

15 . Ibid .

16 . Ibid .

17 . Ibid.

18 . It is perhaps worthnoting here that Safire's argument is not one based on "prissy" legal

technicality. His point is that departing from the constitutional "rules of the game" badly

damagestheprospects for gaining either the support of major power centers, such as Congress,

or the support of theAmerican public. In these specifications, Safire's views strongly resembled

those expressed by various military officers such as Gen Edward Meyer and Gen John Vessey,

19 . Michael Getler, "First Accounts of Attack on Marines `Misleading,"' Washington Post,

22 December 1983, 1 .

20. Ibid .

21 . The congressional subcommittees interviewed survivors of the incident, visited the site,

had the benefit of various technical experts, and came to the conclusion that the firmly

professed early descriptions were seriously flawed .

22. Bernard Gwertzman, "U.S. Is Considering Emergency Arms for El Salvador," New York

Times, 22 February 1984, 1 .

23 . Ibid .

24. Ibid. Such remarks help to explain why some Marines believed that lessons about many

kinds of irregular action, including aspects of antiterrorism, that had been hard won in Vietnam had been forgotten.

25 . Ibid .

26. Ibid .

27. George C. Herring, "The First Casualty," Baltimore Sun, 3 November 1983 .

28. Ibid .

29. Ibid .

30. Henry Grunwald, "Trying to Censor Reality," Time, 7 November 1983 . The suspicion

that the Grenada operation was actually a demonstration of American military weaknesses

and ineptitude may thus be strengthened even more than might otherwise have been the case

by such assessments as those made by the congressional military reform caucus. See, for

110
gy 

Caucus . On the tightening of controls on communications between governmental officials and

the press, see Philip Taubman, "Pentagon Tightens Control on Aides' Central America Statements," New York Times, 25 February 1984, 5.

31 . Col Harry G. Summers, Jr., "Continuity and Change: Clausewitz and Strategy Today,"

International Studies Associational Meeting, 22 October 1982 (Strategic Studies Institute,

Carlisle Barracks, Pa.).

32 . Tom Wicker, "Two Dangerous Doctrines," New York Times, 15 March 1983 .

33 . Ibid.

34 . It was also possible to pursue deterrence even if an enemy was not overwhelmingly

troubled by the forces and strategies one developed. Unlike actual warfare, the "stand off"

in deterrence lacks external verifying behavior which, to be sure, is just as well for avoiding

a nuclear war, yet contributes to an inability to nail down with methodological rigor how well

deterrence is working, or even if it works at all.

35 . If one compares a typical bombload of the World War II period (pre-Hiroshima) with

even a Hiroshima-size bomb as the "typical" post-World War II bombload (admitting that

quantities were small until much later), it becomes clear that even a single aircraft breaking

through air defenses could do terrible damage-with one post-World War II aircraft loaded

with atomic weapons being the "equivalent" of hundreds-even thousands-of World War

II-era sorties . In such an environment, anything less than a 100 percent effective defense

became less than satisfying.

36. There is considerable literature on American peace movements and on ideas about

peaceful resolution of conflict . See, for example, Ernest C. Bolt, Ballots before Bullets: The

War Referendum Approach to Peace in America, 1914-1941 (Charlottesville: University Press

of Virginia, 1977); Nicholas Murray Butler, The Path to Peace: Essays and Addresses on Peace

and Its Making (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1930); Senate Committee on Foreign

Relations, Planningfor Peace. Hearings, 89th Cong., 1st sess., 11-12 May 1965 ; Sylvanus Milne

Duvall, WarandHumanNature (New York : Public Affairs Committee, Inc., 1947); Paul Einzig,

Appeasement before, during andafter the War (London: Macmillan and Co., Ltd., 1942); Federal

Bureau of Investigation, The Communist Concepts ofWar, Pacifism, and "Peace" (Washington,

D.C . : Federal Bureau of Investigation, 1949); Lionel Morris Gelber, Reprieve from War, a

Manualfor Realists (New York: Macmillan, 1950); Christina Grant, TheAnglo-American Peace

Movement in the Mid-Nineteenth Century (New York : Columbia University Press, 1930); Sondra R. Herman, Eleven against War: Studies in American Internationalist Thought, 1898-1921

(Stanford, Calif. : Hoover Institution Press, 1969); Walter Armin Linn, False Prophets ofPeace

(Harrisburg, Pa. : The Military Service Publishing Company, 1939); John McAuley Palmer,

Statesmanship or War (Garden City, N.Y. : Doubleday, Page and Co., 1927); Dexter Perkins,

America's Questfor Peace(Bloomington : Indiana University Press, 1962); William E. Rappard,

The Quest for Peace since the World War (Cambridge, Mass. : Harvard University Press, 1940);

James P. Warburg, Peace in Our Time? (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1940); Lawrence S.

Winner, Rebels against War, the American Peace Movement, 1941-1960 (New York : Columbia

University Press, 1969).

A variety of works help to reveal the differences in hope and expectation harbored by those

advocating different methods for achieving security and avoiding war, as well as varying

notions of what contributes to the enhancement of security and the lessening of anxiety. See,

for example, Ralph Morris Goldman, Arms Control and Peacekeeping: Feeling Safe in This

World (New York: Random House, 1982); L. Gunnar Johnson, Conflicting Concepts ofPeace

in Contemporary Peace Studies (Beverly Hills, Calif. : Sage Publications, 1976); Mark Arthur

May, A Social Psychologyy of War and Peace (New Haven, Conn. : Yale University Press [for

the Institute of Human Relations], 1944); Tom Hatherley, Psychological Factors ofPeace and

111
armament and Strengthening the United Nations (Boston: Beacon Press, 1963); Arthur I. Waskow, The Worried Man's Guide to World Peace (Garden City, N.Y. : Anchor Books, 1963);

Quincy Wright, The Causes of War and the Conditions ofPeace (London: Longmans, Green,

1935).

37 . On defense policy and American attitudes at the end of the 1940s, see Richard F. Haynes,

TheAwesomePower (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1973); Walter La Feber,

America, Russia, and the Cold War, 1945-1966 (New York: John Wiley, 1967); Thomas M.

Campbell, Masquerade Peace (Tallahassee: Florida State University Press, 1973); Donald J.

Mrozek, "Peace through Strength," PhD dissertation, Rutgers University, 1972 .

38 . The point of the remarks here is not to say that deterrence does not work but to suggest

the difficulty in making the case for it among those who are not alreadybelievers in its efficacy.

Since the "success" of deterrence shows itself in the absence of events (namely, an attack or

a full-scale war), the interpretation of what significance may be attached to that absence is

the key to whether one believes in deterrence or not.

39 . See Robert Griffith, ThePolitics ofFear (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1970);

Michael Rogin, The Intellectuals and McCarthy: The Radical Specter (Cambridge, Mass. : MIT

Press, 1967).

40 . The literature on the MX/Peacekeeper missile is exceptionally large. A sampling of

writings in sources concentrating on military matters includes the following: Edgar Ulsamer,

"U.S . Strategic Deterrence at the Crossroads," Air Force Magazine 60 (December 1977): 42-

49 ; "The $100 Million Mobile Missile; The MX and the Future of U.S . Strategic Forces,"

Defense Monitor 6 (August 1977), entire issue; "MX Impact to Be Limited," Air Force Times

38 (13 February 1978), 35 ; Lt Gen Thomas P. Stafford, "The Challenge of M-X," Signal 34

(September 1979): 8-12 ; Norman Polmar, "The Infinite Silo," Sea Power 22 (March 1979):

17-21; G. K. Burke, "The MX and Strategic Deterrence in the 1980s," Air University Review

30 (May-June 1979):28-38; Edward A. Miller, Jr., "The MX and the Environment," AirForce

Policy Letter for Commanders, supplement no. 12 (December 1979): 8-12 ; Harry F. Eustace,

"MXFiasco : Will It Legislate a New Market?" Electronic Warfare/Defense Electronics 11 (April

1979): 33 ; Colin S. Gray, "The MX ICBM: Why We Need It," AirForceMagazine 62 (August

1979): 66-68; "MX Missile Basing Plans Detailed," International Defense Review 12, no . 8,

1284-85; Lt Gen Ira C. Eaker "The MX Missile Decision," Air Force Times 39 (9 July 1979):

13-14; "MX Missile Mobile Basing System," Interavia 34 (November 1979): 1006-8 ; Len

Famiglietti, "MX Mobile Concept: 50,000 People," Air Force Times 39 (5 March 1979): 4;

Lawrence J. Korb, "The Case for the MX," Air University Review 31 (July-August 1980): 2-

10; Donald M. Snow, "The MX-Basing Mode Muddle-Issues and Alternatives," Air University Review 31 (July-August 1980): 11-25; Senator E. J. Garn, "SUM (Shallow Underwater

Missile) : It Doesn't Add Up," Armed Forces Journal International 117 (January 1980): 36-37;

Senator Mark O. Hatfield, "SUM (Shallow Underwater Missile) Strategy," ArmedForces Journal International 117 (January 1980): 35-36; Merle MacBain, "SUM (Shallow Underwater

Mobile): The Bottom Line-A Coastal Alternative to the Great Wall Concept," Sea Power 22

(December 1979): 42-44; "Solar Power for MX?" Armed Forces Journal International 117

(January 1980): 8; Lt Gen Ira C. Eaker, "Will the MX Missile Survive?" Air Force Times 40

(24 March 1980):13-14; Lt Gen Kelly H. Burke, "Why the U.S . Must Have the MX Missile,"

Air Reservist 32 (May 1980): 3; Blair Stewart, "MX and the Counterforce Problem: A Case

for Silo Deployment," Strategic Review 9 (Summer 1981): 16-26; Bernard T. Feld and Kosta

Tsipis, "Land-based Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles," Asian Defense Journal 9 (September

1981): 19-21 ; "Major Alternate MX Basing Concepts," Defense Electronics 13 (November

1981): 78-79; John Ginovsky, "Southwest MX System Will Disturb Environment," Air Force

Times 41 (2 February 1981): 12 ; Leonard Famiglietti, "Titan Silos to House MXs: Shell Game

112
y pgg

Among other works, also see a steady series of articles in Aviation Week in 1977 and after,

such as J. M. Lenorovitz, "Air Force Restudying Basing Plan," Aviation Week 110 (15 January

1979): 21 ; P. J. Klauss, "MX Basing Studies Show Vertical Silo Preference," Aviation Week

108 (19 June 1978): 22-23. Also see Colin S. Gray, "Strategic Forces Triad: End of the Road?"

Foreign Affairs 56 (July 1978): 771-89; "Missile X: Carter Will Get Two Choices," Business

Week, 25 December 1978, 36; "MX: Carter Woos the Senate," U.S. News and World Report

86 (18 June 1979): 4; Morton Kondracke, "Trench Warfare: MX Missile," The New Republic

180 (16 June 1979): 13-15; W. H. Kincade, "Will MX Backfire?" Foreign Policy 37 (Winter

1979): 43-58.

41 . The urgency of the matter for President Carter was suggested by his commitment to

the deployment scheme popularly termed "racetrack" which, with its very large requirements

of land, water, and other resources, was regarded as an ecological problem of the first order

by the very groups with whom President Carter had been closely associated in various other

environment-related issues throughout his administration. For a president, generally regarded

by environmentally conscious groups as among the most effective and enlightened public

officials, to adopt a plan for MX deployment that was about the worst those same groups

could envision, suggests the measure of President Carter's concern on the matter of the Triad.

See E. R. Ricciuti, "Salting the Desert with ICBMs," Audubon 81 (November 1979): 162.

42 . On the matter of basing the MX, works include "MX Missile Basing Plans Detailed,"

International Defense Review 12, no. 8 (July-August 1980); "MX Missile Mobile Basing System," Interavia 34 (November 1979); "The MX-Basing Mode Muddle," Air University Review

(July-August 1980); "SUM (Shallow Underwater Missile) Strategy," Armed Forces Journal

International 117 (January 1980); "MajorAlternate MX Basing Concepts," Defense Electronics

13 (November 1981); and "Dense Pack: A Critique and An Alternative," Parameters 12 (December 1982).

43. This plan, called Deep Underground Missile Basing, surely yielded the most infelicitous

acronym since MAD.

44. Homer Lea, The Valor ofIgnorance (New York: Macmillan, 1909).

45 . The study, conducted by James Gerr, Gerald Davison, and Robert Gatchel, is described

in Maggie Scarf, Body, Mind, Behavior (Washington, D.C. : The NewRepublic Book Co., 1976).

46 . The deterioration of French, Chinese, and British strength after World War II created

a sense of urgency and obligation to new world duties among many in the United States; and,

in a world with just two major active power centers at the time, it was altogether too easy to

confuse accepting worldwide commitments with actually having one's way. The reemergence

of a far more diverse world restored a more natural interaction in the world, characterized

by influence rather than control; but, for those whose own experience was with the more

eccentric phenomenon of control, the adjustment itself may easily have been taken as eccentric

and abnormal .

113
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 
APPENDIX A
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 


APPENDIX B
THIS PAGE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK 
1 . Respondent's name

2. Affiliation: Senate or House

3. State represented

4. Party affiliation : Democrat or Republican

5 . Sex: Male or female

6. Are there references to the US experience in Vietnam?

7. Is there evidence of support for current administration policy in the

Middle East?

8. Is there evidence of support for current administration policy in Central America?

9. Is there evidence of support for current administration policy toward

Nicaragua?

10. Is there evidence of support for current administration policy toward

El Salvador?

11 . Is there evidence of support for current administration policy toward

Lebanon?

12. Is the USSR or Cuba mentioned as a possible or probable source of

troubles in El Salvador and Central America?

13. Is a lack of strategic clarity identified as a problem in US policy

toward Lebanon?

14. Is a lack of strategic clarity identified as a problem in US policy

toward Central America?

15 . Is a lack of strategic clarity identified as a problem in US policy in,

and action during, the Vietnam War?-

16. Is the prospect of large migrations of refugees from Latin America

mentioned as a present danger?

121
18. Is US security claimed to be at stake and at risk in Central America?

19. Is a failure to match tactical means and strategic ends said to be at

the heart of US troubles in regional unrest and conflict?

20. Is there mention of possible worth in invoking the War Powers Act?

192
A Clausewitz, Carl von: 10, 15, 45, 47

"Cold war consensus" : xi, 69, 81 ff, 90, 105,

Afghanistan: 95-96 109

Air Force doctrine : 7-8, 17 Colorado Springs Sun: 21

4ir Force Magazine: 20 Congressional Record: 75

kirLand Battle: 22-23, 25-27, 29, 41-42 Contras: 74, 96

Air University Review: x, 43, 45 Counterinsurgency: 28, 38, 40-42, 84, 86, 96

Allard, Dean C. : 16 Craig, Larry E. (congressman): 85

American Civil War: 2, 5, 15, 62 Cranston, Alan (senator): 81

Anderson, Jack : 55 Crowl, Phillip A. : 46

Andropov, Yuri : 98 Cuba: 44, 73, 79, 81-83, 85-87, 96, 97, 109

B D

Bagley, Worth: 59-60 Danforth, John (senator): 96

Ball, George W. : 56 Denton, Jeremiah (senator): 86

Baltimore Sun: 56, 57, 101 Dick, Lt Gen William W., Jr . : 24

Bay of Pigs : 96 Dickinson, William L. "Bill" (congressman) :

Becker, Carl: 5 83

Bennett, Charles (congressman): 76 Doctrine (military in general) : 2, 11, 21, 23,

Berkeley, Gerald: 15 25, 27, 28, 38, 45

Bergson, Henri: 6 Durenberger, David (senator): 77-79

Biden, Joseph R., Jr. (senator): 87-88

Bingaman, Jeff (senator): 96

Bishop, Maurice (prime minister, Grenada) : E

97

"Blanket" explanations of policy: 74, 79-81, Eagleton, Thomas (senator): 76 88, 103 Eisenhower, Dwight: 29, 75 Blumenson, Martin : 16 El Salvador: 10, 28, 55, 57, 60-61, 71-72, 74- "Boat people": 83-85 75, 78, 79-80, 83, 85, 87-88, 96, 103 Bonker, Don (congressman) : 79 Escalation : 12 Britt, Robin (congressman): 85

Business Week: 97

F

C Force structure: 2-3

Ford,, Gerald : 58, 84

Col Thomas A., 111 : 26 Franco-Prussian War: 6

Carter, Jimmy: 95, 106 Barney (congressman): 74-75

Central America: 19-20, 55-57, 60-62, 72, Futrell

Frank,

, Robert Frank: 16

89,95-96,97,103

Central American Defense Council (Condeca): 55

Central Command (CENTCOM): 28

Cheney, Richard (congressman): 75, 80

Chicago Tribune : 61 Garment, Suzanne: 59

Christian Science Monitor: 56 Gelb, Leslie H. : 59

123
Greene, Gen Wallace: 24 Lebanon: 10, 21, 56-57, 59, 61-62, 71, 74, Grenada: 57, 95, 97, 99-102 76-77, 86-87, 95, 98-100 Grunwald, Henry: 102 Lehman, John (secy navy): 98 Guevara, Che: 53 Lehman, Richard H. (congressman) : 80 Gulf of Tonkin Resolution : 76 Low-intensity conflict: 38, 41-42, 44

Hall, Sam B. (congressman): 76, 85 Machos, Maj James A. : 25-26 Hamilton, Alexander: 10 Madison, James: 10 Hansen, James V (congressman): 84 Mahan, Alfred Thayer: 45-46, 47 Hart, Gary (senator): 61-62, 89 Mao: 96 Hartnett, Thomas P. (congressman): 84 Marine Corps Gazette: 28 Henderickson, Paul : 6-7 Marks, Edward: 3

Herring, George C. : 101-2 Mayaguez incident : 58 Herspring, Dale R. : 44 McCain, John (congressman) : 77 Ho Chi Minh Trail: 12 McConnell, Gen John P. : 24-25 Honduras: 61, 83, 87 McFarlane, Robert: 77 Hooper, Brickford: 16 McNamara, Robert S. (secy defense) : 6-7, 17

Media relations: 18, 42

Mexico : 20, 70, 83

I Meyer, Gen Edward C.: 19

Middleton, Drew: 18-19, 96

Indochina monographs: see US Army Center Military organization : 5

of Military History Military Review: 25-26

Inouye, Daniel K. (senator): 88 Milton, Gen T. R.: 20-21

Interservice rivalry: 29 Mitchell, George (senator): 79-80

Israel: 95 Mohr, Charles: 62

Momyer, William W. : 16-17

Mondale, Walter: 61, 62

J

Johnson, Lyndon B: 11, 12, 97

National Journal. 26

National Security Council (NSC): 11

National War College: 3

Naval War College: 46-48

Kelley, Gen Paul X. : 99 Naval War College Review: 43-46

Kennedy administration: 11, 54 Nelson, Bill (congressman): 75, 80

Kindness, Thomas N. (congressman): 83 Newsweek: 28

Kissinger commission: 75 New York Times: 59, 62, 96, 103

Koch, Edward (mayor, New York City): 63 Nicaragua: 10, 55, 61, 71-72, 74, 75, 80, 83-

Korean War: 9-10, 38, 57 85,96-97

Krepinevich, Andrew F., Jr.: 27-28 North American Treaty Organization: 19, 23,

39-40 -

Nutting, Gen Wallace: 19

124
Studds, Gerry E. (congressman): 75, 87

Summers, Col Harry, Jr. (congressman): 10-

P 11, 13-15, 102-3

Survey: 97

Palladino, Michael P. : 28-29

Palmer, Gen Dave Richard: 9 .I.

Panama Canal: 79, 83, 85

Panetta, Leon (congressman): 88

Parameters: 43 Tactical Air Command (TAC): 25-26

Pastora, Eden : 74 Taylor, Gen Maxwell D. : 23, 77

"Peacekeeper" missile (MX): 105-8 Technological innovation : 3, 24

Pentagon Papers : 6-7 Tet offensive (1968): 13

Porter, Gareth: 44 Thatcher, Margaret : 102

Principles of war: 8, 10, 15, 45 Thucydides : 47

Tonkin Gulf Resolution : see Gulf of Tonkin

Resolution

Townsend, Patrick L. : 28-29

TRADOC: see US Army Training and Doctrine Command

Ray, Richard (congressman): 76 Truman, Harry: ix, 29, 76

Reagan, Ronald : 56, 59, 60, 61, 62, 76, 77, Turner, Stansfield : 47

97,98,102-3,105-6

Rogers, Gen Bernard: 9, 19

Rosenfeld, Stephen S. : 60

Rostow, Walt W. : 12, 44

Rumsfeld, Donald: 77

Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR):

82,85-87,95-97,105

S

US Army Center of Military History: 8

US Army Command and General Staff College: 37-43

Safire, William: 98 US Army Training and Doctrine Command:

San Antonio Light: 87 23,25

Sanders, Sol: 97 US Army War College: 43

San Diego Union: 55 USA Today: 60

Schaefer, Dan (congressman): 85 US Congress : 4, 20, 26, 56-57, 69-90

Schweitzer, Lt Gen Robert L. : 19 U.S. News & World Report: 55

Sharp, Adm U. S. Grant: 16-17

Shelby, Richard (congressman): 83, 85

Shulimson, Jack : 16 V

Shultz, George (secy state): 97

Sims, Williams S. : 46

Skelton, Ike (congressman): 77 Vessey, Gen John W., Jr. : 19

Slattery, Jim (congressman): 81 Vietnam studies: see US Army Center of MilSmith, Lawrence J. (congressman): 75 itary History

Sonnenfeldt, Helmut: 44 "Vietnam syndrome": 58-59

Soviet Union: see Union of Soviet Socialist Vietnam Veterans Memorial: 62-63

Republics

Special Operations Command (SOCOM): 28

Special Warfare Center : 27

125
War Powers Act: 60, 76-77, 86-87

Warsaw Pact: 23, 26-27 y

Washington Post : 6, 19, 57, 60

Washington Times: 58, 59 Yarborough, Lt Gen William P. : 27-28 Waxman, Henry (congressman): 76

Weinberger, Caspar (secy defense) : 59

Westmoreland, Gen William C. : 16, 19

Wicker, Tom: 103

Wickham, Gen John A., Jr. : 19-20

Will, George : 96 Zumwalt, AdmElmo: 59-60

Wills, Garry: 56

126