South China Sea

USVUN FORCE IN DISARRAY

‘WE GOT THE S-T KICKED OUT OF US!’—GEN. FREEMAN

Soon the general’s remark had been carried via cable network news to every country in the world. Anti- American sentiment was buoyed by the U.S. embarrassment, which caused red faces from the Pentagon to the White House, whose “spokespersons” were pressed by a media frenzy to explain why the advance elements of the over two and a half thousand U.S.-led U.N. emergency response team had bungled their first engagement in Vietnam. Were they exhibiting the same deficiencies that had afflicted an earlier generation of Americans in Vietnam?

It was like a spark to a powder keg of emotion as American Veterans of Vietnam and others, from as far away as the Korean and Australian contingents that had fought alongside the Americans in Vietnam, rallied to the defense of their younger compatriots, most of whom, outside Freeman’s emergency response team, had just arrived in Vietnam and had not yet engaged the “Great Wall of Iron,” alias the PLA.

Freeman was furious with both Boyd and Cline, reminding them that they were the only ones to whom he had made the remark that was now drawing fire from “every son of a bitch liberal in the country!” Both men assured the general they’d had nothing to do with it — hadn’t said a word. Cline was brave enough to draw the general’s attention to the unpalatable fact that the cries back home for firing the general were not confined to “every son of a bitch liberal,” but in many instances were coming from the right wing because of his admission that the U.S.-led force had met with failure the first time at bat and that he had already, before this remark, personally taken responsibility for the action in which Americans were killed by “so-called friendly fire.” Also, several large evangelical groups loudly objected to the general’s use of “scatological references” in his speeches.

Within twenty minutes of the political storm breaking about him on CNN and the U.S. networks and their affiliates around the world, a phone call came into the U.N.-EMREF HQ now at Phu Lang Thuong, twenty-eight miles north of Hanoi on the Hanoi-Lang Son road. Captain Boyd’s face looked pale as he said, “Yes sir, yes sir, Mr. President,” and handed the receiver to Freeman.

“General.”

“Mr. President.”

“You know why I’m calling. I can’t have my military commander making public comments of this kind. Now, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job in the field, but I must remind you that I can’t very well support you being C in C of the USVUN forces when you go around — albeit unintentionally — undermining the American public’s confidence in the American army.”

Nothing had hurt Freeman in years as much as the President’s last comment.

“Mr. President, I apologize. I’d never willingly bad-mouth my men. That’s not what I meant sir. I was merely giving an off-the-cuff assessment, a military man’s assessment, of the Chinese breakthrough at Lang Son. S’matter of fact I was referring to General Vinh’s forces more than I was ours. Why, our men haven’t really closed with the enemy to any—” Freeman stopped. What was it the French said? “Lui qui s’excuse, s’accuse.” He that excuses himself accuses himself! “I’m sorry, Mr. President.”

“Well, I’m going to accept that, General, but I have to tell you that I’m under one hell of a lot of pressure here to fire you.” There was silence. “I wouldn’t want to do that, General, but I might have to. You must understand my position.”

“I do, sir.”

The President tried to end it on a note of levity. “Trouble is, General, you’re one heck of a good field commander, but I have people here from Defense as well as State telling me you’re another Georgie Patton — just great when it comes to getting the job done in the field, but you’re a bit, ah, bullish in a china shop when it comes to political nuances. Am I being fair?”

“I’m bullish on America, Mr. President.” It wasn’t meant to be a joke, but the President liked it anyway.

* * *

The next morning, under increasing political pressure, the President fired Freeman from his position as C in C Vietnam USVUN forces, relegating him to command U.S. Second Army on the ground but putting the U.N. task force under the command of U.S. General Dean Jorgensen, en route from Washington to Hanoi.

“By God,” Freeman said in conference with General Vinh when he received the news. “They’re sending me a commissar.”

General Vinh, with barely any emotion, said, “Welcome to the club.”

Major Robert Cline knew if he didn’t say what was on his mind to Douglas Freeman right now, he’d never have the guts to say it again. The major begged General Vinh’s pardon and asked Freeman if he could speak to him privately for a moment. Freeman, frowning — which almost destroyed Cline’s resolution — excused himself from Vinh and his party. “Yes, what is it, Bob?”

“Sir, can I be utterly frank with you?”

“Yes.”

Cline inhaled deeply and said, “General, you’ve got to be more — I don’t know — politically sensitive.”

“Politically correct you mean!” Freeman responded, glowering at the major, the general telling Cline that, “goddamn it,” he had been the first U.S. general in history to use women as chopper pilots.

“No, sir! I don’t mean ‘politically correct,’ I mean politically sensitive. General, that crack you just made about Washington sending you a commissar, and yesterday your remarks to the staff about there being commissars in the State Department — and we don’t know how that remark you made to Boyd about the Chinese kicking the shit out of us first time to bat got out — but if your comments about ‘commissars in the State Department’ leaked to the press—” Cline paused for breath, his shoulders tight with tension. “—you’d be ruined, sir. They’d fire you as field commander as well.”

Freeman was still glowering, his cheek muscles bunched up, his jaw set in a look of ferocious determination. “Are you finished, Major?”

“Yes, sir.”

For what seemed like an eternity to Cline the general stood there in the tent. Freeman’s head was nodding, the rest of him immobile. “All right, Bob, you’ve made your point. Oh, hell — I agree I’m not politically— sensitive—that the word you used?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, you’re right, damn it! I’ll try to be more—” He exhaled heavily, “—’sensitive.’ “

Cline smiled with relief. Boyd entered the HQ clutching a sheaf of faxes. Freeman turned to him. “What’ve you got there, Captain? More bad news?”

“And some good news,” Boyd replied.

“Give me the bad first.”

“Beijing radio is using your, ah, demot — ah—”

“Demotion.”

“Yes, sir. They’re using it as a sign that Americans will fail against the PLA the same as we did in Vietnam earlier — in the Vietnam War….” Boyd hesitated.

“Go on!” Freeman ordered.

“Sir, they said we’ll be crushed like beetles.”

“Did they?” Freeman said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well,” Freeman said, turning to Cline, “they’re being very insensitive about beetles, Major. You think we should make a protest on behalf of the beetles of the world?”

Cline shrugged and smiled. “They’ve probably got a beetle lobby on Capitol Hill, General.”

“By God!” Freeman riposted. “You’re probably right.” He turned to Boyd. “So what else are they going to do to us American beetles?”

“I don’t know, General.”

Freeman pointed at the pile of faxes Boyd was holding. “Well, what else do you have for me, son?”

“Messages, sir, from various veterans’ associations all around the country. Basically they’re all saying—” He looked down at one. “—It says, ‘Tell it like it is, General. Give ‘em hell!’ “