Air University Review, July-August 1983

The Vietnam "Victory"

Lieutenant Colonel Patrick O. Clifton

The January-February 1983 issue of the Review stirred so many emotions, memories, and thoughts about Vietnam that I felt compelled to make a few comments. After drafting this statement about Vietnam, I asked a few friends to review it. They were almost unanimous in their response: "You, indeed, bring out points that need to be discussed," they said. Then they began sharing recollections of how their part in the war was fought. They shared another viewpoint, too. Although my statement was valid, they said I shouldn’t publish it because it might be too controversial; critics might see it as an attack on the military rather than a discussion of problems that can weaken a professional military force.

Project Warrior is a major effort now under way to encourage the study of military professionalism and history. In the spirit of this program, I believe a serious discussion about how we fought in Vietnam is needed. There is no question, for example, of the bravery of those who participated in campaigns like Linebacker and Commando Hunt. What should be discussed, however, is whether the war effort came to be a manager’s war of statistics and numbers.

General David C. Jones, in The Commanders Hotline, No. 1, discussed the problem of a leader’s concern about "How do I look?" rather than "How are we doing?" General Jones continued:

Too many commanders are victims of the "look good" syndrome. They become mesmerized by charts and graphs, "in the red" or "on the curve" and other statistical gymnastics. They let themselves be seduced into "chasing squares" and wasting resources to get a bar graph to read green. (p. 2)

Was the military, as an institution, guilty of the "look good" syndrome in Vietnam? I believe this is a valid question that needs to be discussed in a forum such as the Review.

I sometimes feel that the military as an institution will never get over Vietnam until we accept what happened there. Perhaps we should be made to use the Alcoholics Anonymous approach as a first step toward recovery: "My name is the United States military establishment, and I did not win the war in Southeast Asia." No excuses, no quibbling. The military establishment was given the ground rules under which the war would have to be fought, and we stated that the war could be successfully prosecuted. The lame excuse that the politicians "sold us out" just won’t wash. Year after year, the military establishment kept saying "can do." We won the war in the overly optimistic reports sent back to Washington. Every campaign was a success leading to a string of victories. When the enemy continued to resist, new measurements for success were needed and found. Body counts and truck counts were used as alternative yardsticks of victory. The reported truck-kill figures became meaningless when it was realized that many more trucks were reported destroyed than there were in the enemy’s inventory.

On the eve of the 1968 Tet offensive, we could see the "light at the end of the tunnel." For only a few thousand more men, the war could be brought to a victorious conclusion. Tet changed that and more.

Some compare Tet to Dien Bien Phu. It was more than a mere turning point in a war. Tet was the high watermark of the entire foreign policy of containment. After Tet, the United States not only began reducing its role in Vietnam but also its commitment to "stand watch" against communism everywhere in the world.

Nothing could have proved Lieutenant Colonel Dennis Drew’s point about the art of war as well as the two articles that bracketed his essay. The "Linebacker" and "Truck Count" articles graphically portray America’s military-science approach to Vietnam. It was a war of technology, statistics, and pictures. Pictures at home (via the evening news) eroded support for an interminable war. Briefing photos at the front, similar to those in the "Linebacker" article, provided a daily dose of good news. As an intelligence officer in Vietnam, one of my jobs was to find good "happy snaps" to show at the morning briefings. A few eye-catching photos were kept for reuse in case no good new stuff was found. One of the favorites showed several trucks blown off a road in Laos; a cargo of Soviet 122-mm rockets was scattered around the burning vehicles. It was a classic "happy snap" repeater. One couldn’t say that bombs missed the target or that some mission was unsuccessful, for briefings were structured to emphasize the positive. There was so much pressure on everyone to "look good" that negativism was not allowed. Numbers meant everything. Routinely, we had to nominate so many B-52 target boxes. I’ll never forget a rope and bamboo footbridge over some innocuous stream that found its way into the targeting process. It would have been funny if it weren’t so sad. It was like a scene from Catch 22. "We need X number of targets," the colonel said, "and this gives us enough." All of our protests were in vain. "Captains aren’t vetoers," were his final words of wisdom.

What about Linebacker II? Was that the last inning home run that secured victory? Did it prove when America’s total might was unleashed that victory could have been won in any two weeks? I don’t believe so. There seems to be increasing evidence that Linebacker was used more as a method to get President Nguyen Van Thieu and South Vietnam to agree to the October peace package. Linebacker demonstrated to President Thieu that the United States was committed to use its awesome power to protect South Vietnam. The bombing campaign convinced the South Vietnamese government to accept the treaty.

Admittedly, I experienced only a worm’s eye view of the war. From this vantage point, one could still see the best and the worst of men in a combat situation. Some of the officers we worked with were interested more in posturing than in integrity. Better to order up another mission, their logic argued, than to admit to a mistake in judgment. Yet the recce pilots we worked with were incredibly professional.

I remember the men of the 45th Reconnaissance Squadron who flew the RF-l0ls as being especially conscientious and incredibly brave. Time after time they would drop by our Analysis Shop to ask what areas would really be lucrative photo targets. They would take photos of their assigned targets and then fly over these bonus areas. They were like the many professionals in the war who gave everything they had despite all of the frustrations. No matter how hard they worked or how many risks they took, it wasn’t enough. Some have argued that we fought under rules that made no sense, and that we were somehow betrayed. These rules of engagement were not forced upon a victimized military. They were accepted with all the other "rules" of that war, rules that emphasized statistics and positive images and helped us believe we were winning the war. For some, the panacea is still working.

Lieutenant Colonel Clifton is commander of the 6993rd Electronic Security Squadron, Kelly AFB, Texas.

The conclusions and opinions expressed in this document are those of the author cultivated in the freedom of expression, academic environment of Air University. They do not reflect the official position of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the United States Air Force or the Air University.

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