I

'N THE lush, green delta south of Saigon, work stops in a rice paddy as a B-26 bomber rattles by overhead. It is the same old B-26 the peasant watched in 1953. But the markings are Vietnamese instead of French, and the antagonists of record in this present war are Vietnamese against Vietnamese. Behind one side, of course, is international Communism. Behind the other, the United States.

The end of the French war in Indochina was marked by the Geneva accord, and before anyone can understand the military problems

in Southeast Asia he must consider the terms of this accord. It did, of course, provide for the creation of an International Control Commission, operating under the general purview of the United Nations, chaired by the U.S.S.R. and England, and composed of military members from India, Poland, and Canada. The duties of this commission were to see that the provisions of the Geneva accord were carried out. Some nine years later this International Control Commission still functions. It is one of the more interesting sights these days at Tan Son Nhut, in Saigon, to watch the ICC

members board their ancient Boeing Stratoliner, the same old Stratoliner that TWA flew in the late 1930's, and set course serenely for Hanoi.

The accord of 1954 thus marked the end of French military dominance in Indochina, although it would be fair to say that the French military influence has lived on to the present day in one way or another. The withdrawal of the French left a very considerable vacuum. Except in rare instances, the Vietnamese had not been trained for positions of leadership in the French colonial forces and, as a result, were ill equipped to take over, without help, the military defense of the Republic of Viet Nam against either aggression or the increasingly active Communist minority within the country.

The United States provided this outside help. A Military Assistance Program, and a very substantial one at that, took on the job of bolstering the government. It was a program entirely dominated by classic groundforce thinking. Its aim was to train and equip a Vietnamese army capable of withstanding an invasion by a similar force from North Viet Nam. There was an Air Force in this program, but it was pitifully small. Overt external aggression has yet to come, but the situation in the Republic of Viet Nam steadily worsened as the Viet Cong took over larger and larger sections of the country and gained more and more support, whether voluntary or not, from the peasantry.

Finally, in the fall of 1961, it looked very much as though the government of Viet Nam itself would be in danger of collapsing from massive Hanoi-based infiltration and subversion unless immediate and sweeping measures were taken. General Maxwell Taylor, then the President's Military Adviser, brought a military and civilian group to the scene for an urgent and on-the-spot appraisal. The survey, in essence, showed that the armed forces were incapable of dealing with the kind of threat that was facing them. The Air Force, for example, though small, was reasonably well equipped with A-1H aircraft, but there was no vestige of a tactical air control system. Tar

gets, when identified, became a subject for protracted negotiations, and it was sometimes two or three weeks after reconnaissance had located a target before permission was given to strike it. More often the permission never came. And so it was into this situation that PACAF and the Thirteenth Air Force arrived in December 1961.

The directives were clear, and the intent of the U.S. Government was even clearer. The directives were to go into the Republic of Viet Nam and establish communications, put in a tactical air control system, bring in an advisory tactical squadron, put new radars into position, build the cantonments necessary to house the troops, and to do it all in a minimum amount of time. The Administration's position was stated much more simply: it did not intend to lose in the Republic of Viet Nam.

The military scene suggested World War II all over again, and early World War II at that. Officers and noncommissioned officers stared unbelievingly at each other as they lined up, mess kits in hand, for their "C" rations. Old-timers, slogging through the mud to their tents in the evening, had to pinch themselves to believe that it was not the old South Pacific Theater come to life. This time, however, the priorities were a little higher and things moved much more quickly.

Scarcely a year and a half later the tents. are almost all gone, and living conditions in Southeast Asia are generally at a pretty decent level. The first tactical air control system has been replaced, from the communications standpoint, with the very latest word in troposcatter. For navigational aids we now have TACAN and the Tactical Area Positioning System. The old French airdromes at Bien Hoa, Tan Son Nhut, and Da Nang are gradually being rejuvenated to modern standards. Detachment 2 of the 1st Air Commando Group has been in Viet Nam since December of 1961 and has now flown literally thousands of missions with its Vietnamese counterparts. Without attempting to detail them here, it is sufficient to say that our efforts in the Republic of Viet Nam have been timely and productive. Outside the old borders of French Indo

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china, but essential to our military position in Southeast Asia, is Thailand.

There are few better places for an airplane buff than the flight line at Don Muang, Bangkok's big and only airport. Any day he can watch the international jets of 21 flag carriers-Lufthansa, Quantas, Garuda, Pan Am, United Arab Airlines, Cathay Pacific, and more. In between the comings and goings of the international traffic, our observer will see USAF F-102's on daily routine air defense scrambles and, from time to time, RF-101's. The Thai Air Force is flying F-86F's, F-86L's, and assorted transports and trainers. Across the runway he will see a C-46 taxiing out to take off for somewhere. C-130's are always in evidence.

It is a scene-here at Don Muang-of enormous activity. The civilian jets emphasize the commercial importance of the area. The F-102's, the F-86's, the C-46 call attention to the basic uneasiness in Southeast Asia. And the intense air traffic makes clear the importance of the airplane to Southeast Asia.

On the same flight line at Don Muang our observer will also see an old C-47 with the markings of Air Laos. The seats, while austere, are adequate, the air smells only slightly of fish oil, and the stewardess, in her Lao costume, is fetching. It is, besides, the only practical way to get to Luang Prabang.

Airports in Laos are C-47 airports at best. The one at Luang Prabang is a C-47 airport at its very worst-potholed, short, and without even the basic amenities. There are no modern air facilities in Laos, no place where jet fighters, for instance, could be based. At the same time there are few roads in Laos, and still fewer good ones. As everyone must know by now, Laos is a difficult place to get around in. What is worth remembering is that it is difficult for anyone, not just Western troops, to get around in Laos. And it is next to impossible to move military forces of any significance-that is to say, with equipment beyond that which can be carried on a man's back-without detection from the air.

In the few years before 1962 that the United States operated a Military Assistance

Group in Laos, some progress was detectable in the right wing forces' capability. Not to overstate the case, the progress was modest. The Air Force, like the one in the Republic of Viet Nam, was a minor appendage to the program. When the U.S. Mission left Laos, there was not the vestige of a command and control system, and there was no reconnaissance capability. Lao pilots are able enough as stick and rudder men and have a fine disregard for in-flight emergencies. But they, and the Lao Air Force, do not represent a very great force at this time.

The two countries, Thailand and Laos, have much in common. Their languages are

very nearly the same. Their religion, Buddhism, is also the same, and over the years there has been considerable crossing back and forth across their common border, with consequent intermarriages.

The fact remains that there are more differences than similarities, at least in a military sense. Thailand is a prime base for any air activity on the mainland in Southeast Asia. The hard-core base is, of course, Clark Air Base in the Philippines. On the mainland, Thailand is the only country where we have the base complex capable of supporting a significant air effort. This base complex, together with the communications and the logistic stockpiles essential to a base complex, all represent a very considerable Military Assistance Program over the last several years. At Takhli, for example, where we keep a contingent of F-100's, we have a runway of over 9000 feet. At Korat the runway is 10,000 feet, and at Ubon over 8000 feet. Don Muang has over 10,000 feet. At Takhli, Don Muang, and Ubon we have permanent USAF contingents. Thailand, headquarters for SEATO, has also been the host country for most of SEATO's activity.

Bordering Thailand on the south is Malaya, a pleasant country of jungles and plantations. The military power to meet external threats is supplied by the British Commonwealth. The Far East Air Forces of the RAF have two splendid air bases, Butterworth in Malaya and Tengah in Singapore, capable of taking anything, including century-series fighters.

Cambodia, on Thailand's eastern border, is determinedly neutral. From a military standpoint it would be a very great help to the overall military situation in Southeast Asia if Cambodia were in one way or another an ally.

To the south of these countries of mainland Southeast Asia lies Indonesia, a huge and unaligned country equipped with more modern hardware than any other Southeast Asia nation.

And to the east lie the Philippines. Without the fortunate circumstance of our base in the Philippines, we could not have carried out the very extensive support of Viet Nam and

Thailand in the past two years-certainly not, at any rate, in the time we were allowed.

If we include in our definition of Southeast Asia just these countries-Viet Nam (North and South), Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, Malaya, and the Philippines-we have a very big area. Adding Burma, Indonesia, and, of course, Borneo, makes it an area equal to about half the size of the United States. It is an area of poor surface communications, of mountains, swamps, and jungles. The countryside in that part of the world has not changed since World War II, and foot soldiers, for all their fine new air mobility, are essentially no better equipped to fight in an impenetrable jungle than they were in the days of Merrill's Marauders.

THE AIR operations of the past

two years have, by lessons in the field, reaffirmed concepts for the use of tactical air that were developed from experience in World War II and the Korean War. They have also exposed several bogus ones. Let us deal with the valid lessons first.

First of all, the airplane is the equalizer in Southeast Asia. Whether you are fighting lightly armed guerrillas or contemplating a more ambitious conflict with a trained and fairly well-equipped force, such as the Pathet Lao, you must base your tactics on the use of air power. Without it you cannot move, you cannot see, you have no logistics. Without air power you are, in spite of your spectacular weapons, in worse shape even than guerrillas with homemade rifles. Their advantages in knowing the language and the terrain and in being acclimated offset your firepower advantages. This is not to say that the airplane solves all problems. It does not, by a very long shot, but it is essential to the solution of the problems. And it has to be used with considerable maturity. In Southeast Asia this maturity has not always been in evidence.

Two years ago air contributed very little to the struggle in the Republic of Viet Nam There was no tactical air control system, and