In The Year of The Tiger

In the Year of the Tiger
CAMPAIGNS AND COMMANDERS
general editor
Gregory J. W. Urwin, Temple University, Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania
advisory board
Lawrence E. Babits, Greenville, North Carolina
James C. Bradford, Texas A&M University, College Station
David M. Glantz, Carlisle, Pennsylvania
Jerome A. Greene, Denver, Colorado
Victor Davis Hanson, Hoover Institution of Stanford University,
Stanford
Herman Hattaway, Leawood, Kansas
J. A. Houlding, Rückersdorf, Germany
Eugenia C. Kiesling, U.S. Military Academy, West Point, New York
Timothy K. Nenninger, National Archives, Washington, D.C.
Frederick C. Schneid, High Point University
Bruce Vandervort, Virginia Military Institute, Lexington
The War for Cochinchina, 1945–1951
William M. Waddell III
Un i v e r si t y of O k l a hom a P r e s s | Nor m a n
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Name: Waddell, William M., 1979– author.

Title: In the year of the tiger : the war for Cochinchina, 1945–1951 / William M. Waddell.
Description: Norman : University of Oklahoma Press [2018] | Series: Campaigns and commanders
series ; volume 62 | Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017045459 | ISBN 978-0-8061-6027-6 (hardcover ; alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Indochinese War, 1946–1954—Campaigns—Vietnam, Southern.
Classification: LCC DS553.1 .W33 2018 | DDC 959.704/1—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017045459
In the Year of the Tiger: The War for Cochinchina, 1945–1951 is Volume 62 in the Campaigns and
Commanders series.
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1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Interior layout and composition: Alcorn Publication Design

pour les causes perdues
Contents
List of Illustrations ix
Acknowledgments xi
Introduction 3
1. “Les armes parleront . . .”: The War for Tonkin 20
2. A “Land for Heroes”: Cochinchinese Land and People 45
3. Traces de sang: The War for Cochinchina, 1945–1947 57
4. L’ossature solide: Latour’s War, 1947–1949 83
5. “All for the General Counteroffensive”: Viet Minh Strategy
and Tactics 116
6. La Geste de Chanson: The Battles of 1950 146
Conclusion 175
Appendix A. Commanders of the CEFEO 181

Appendix B. Commanders of the TFIS/FFVS 182
Appendix C. French Military Acronyms 183
Appendix D. Vietnamese Glossary 185

Notes 187
Bibliography 235
Index 245
Illustrations
Figures
Layout and fields of fire of main post 106

Viet Minh military organization 134
Tieu doan 309 basic organization 137
Organizational table for Trung Doan Chu Luc Tay Do 141
Chanson receiving flowers from Vietnamese delegation, June 1951 148
Viet Minh troops storming temple at Bac-sa-ma 156
Burning of Watchtower at Chong-No outside of Cau Ke 157
Viet Minh leading prisoners away after Cau Ke campaign 158
Maps
Tonkin 43
Sects of Cochinchina 47
Viet Minh dispositions, 1945–1946 67
Troupes Françaises de l’Indochine du Sud (TFIS) disposition, May 1947 79
Troupes Françaises de l’Indochine du Sud (TFIS) evacuations, 1947 87
Operation Vega, February 1948 94
Go Cong sector 107
Chu Luc Trung Doan dispositions, 1950 140
Tra Vinh province 154
ix
x illustrations
Tables
Nam Bo Chi Doi, 1945–1946 129

Nam Bo Trung Doan, 1947 135
Acknowledgments
A kind Providence has put many wonderful allies alongside the path of
this book. In the first place, it would not have been possible without the
encouragement and advice of several key individuals from my time at the Ohio
State University. I must thank Dr. Alan Beyerchen and Dr. Peter Mansoor for all
of their considerable efforts. I also need to thank Dr. John Guilmartin, in par-
ticular, for his guidance and passion for the history of war. It is my great regret
that he did not live to see this book come to completion. So much of it bears his
mark. I hope he would have been pleased with it. Professional thanks are like-
wise due to Bill Keegan for his tremendous work on the maps, and to Thanh
Nguyen for her considerable help finding images in the Vincennes archives.
My family, too, deserves no small amount of praise. The support of my par-
ents has been more important than they perhaps realize. My wife, Valerie, has
devoted an immense of amount of time and energy into helping me through
this long process. She is an endless fount of encouragement and perseverance.
Finally, our children—Liam, Elias, Sam, and Ruthie—have accepted with matu-
rity far beyond their years my frequent need to retreat to my desk and pore over
strange books instead of playing with them.
Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations expressed or implied within are

solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent the official policy
or position of the organizations with which he is associated or the views of
the Air War College, Air University, the United States Air Force, Department
of Defense, or any other U.S. government agency.
xi
Introduction
T he French are by tradition and inclination boar hunters. In the medieval
world the French noblesse d’épée (nobles of the sword) proved their worth
in great, wide-ranging hunts for this mammoth beast. French heralds in those
days chided their rivals, the English, for having no quarry quite like this across
the channel.1 Beyond its size, the boar was infamous for its ferocity, its insensi-
tivity to pain, and a total lack of cunning. Its name became synonymous with
“enemy.” The animal left large marks of destruction everywhere in its wake and
so could be tracked with relative ease. French knights did so mounted, flying
through the woods accompanied by teams of hounds. The chasse was a test and
spectacle of martial prowess. It was a tiresome, dangerous problem, but a rel-
atively simple one. It required teamwork to manage the dogs, but also served
as the venue for warriors to outdo one another in acts of reckless bravery. For
kings, the boar hunt confirmed their fitness to lead during the times of frustrat-
ing peace—for knights, their right to ride in the vanguard when peace inevi-
tably broke down. For both, it confirmed a mastery over self, nature, and the
adversary.
Once cornered—doubtless after killing many dogs, perhaps goring a horse
or two—the boar would make his stand. He would rage, foam at the mouth, and
gnash his tusks together, sharpening them for the final fight. The lead hunts-
men now went to it with spear or knife, at times on foot. This confrontation was
unabashedly called a “joust” and chevaliers considered there no better train-
ing for war.2 To face the beast after a long chase was a kind of glorious mad-
ness. Many knights died in the attempt, including one French king.3 In many
respects, French warfare ever since—l’audace, the offensive à outrance (offensive
to excess)—is little more than a democratized chasse au sanglier overlaid with
Cartesian rationale and aesthetic.4
In Indochina, however, the boar was not the pinnacle of the chasseur’s
game—that distinction went to the tiger. Equally dangerous, the tiger of the
colonies was a very different sort of animal that required hunting in a wholly
different manner. Tigers are furtive and silent; their ranges are immense and,
to the untrained eye, trackless. At the peak of the man-eating tiger crisis that
afflicted colonial India, the British government sent entire units of Gurkhas
into the bush to root out these animals, only to have the tigers retreat farther
3
4 in the year of the tiger
into the jungle and return to killing once the army had gone.5 Tiger hunting is
paradoxical in that the more resources and men one commits, the less likely
success becomes. It is nearly pointless to stalk tigers; those turned man-eaters,
especially, are more than happy to have their pursuer follow them into their
vast haunts, where the relationship between hunter and prey is easily reversed.
Tigers, instead, must be waited upon. The hunter needs a map to document
its habits, where it feeds, where it kills. Through constant trial and error, he
improves his map and learns where it is best to lay in wait. Perched in a tree in
the heat of the jungle, the hunter can wait for days, weeks, and often months.6
Omer Sarraut, a celebrated big-game hunter of colonial Indochina, called tiger
hunting not nearly as “sporting” as with other prey. On the surface, it seems a
passive art. It calls for baiting, careful preparation and, most of all, superhuman
patience for that one fleeting shot.7 It was especially fitting for Cochinchina, a
place where, a later French general noted, “time is of no consequence.”8 To hunt
the tiger requires a different mindset, a mindset the French had to learn and
relearn in their colonies. Not all did.9
By 1950 the years of preparation—in the south at least—were complete,
the bait laid, and the waiting at an end. It was the Year of the Tiger and he
had finally arrived. The battalions of the Việt Nam Độc Lập Đồng Minh Hội
(Viet Minh) came with a ferocity never before experienced in the sultry wilds
of Cochinchina. The assault was to set the stage for the great “general counter-
offensive” meant to wipe out the French hold over their colony. Nguyễn Bình—
the one-eyed, sword-toting chief of the southern Viet Minh—brought to the
battle several of his new main force (chủ lực) battalions, reinforced by large
numbers of local units.10 From December 1949 through January 1950 the French
position in and around Trà Vinh fell under concerted attack by trained infantry
and specially devised sapper teams. The French defensive position—a thick and
finely textured array of fortified posts and watchtowers manned by Vietnamese
religious sects, regional militia, and a handful of regular troops, and backed
up by mobile bataillons d’intervention—recoiled under the withering assault.11
Skillful attackers first cut the roads connecting the various positions and
sought to isolate posts before launching their coordinated assaults. Mortar
barrages and heavy machine-gun fire supported the Viet Minh sappers who
worked to blow holes in tower defenses. Harassing fires mounted against ancil-
lary targets tested the defenders’ capabilities and kept besieged units uncertain
as to the Viet Minh’s intentions.12 A number of posts fell or had to be aban-
doned, but many more held on. The French riposte was quick and brutal: a
company of the Bataillon étranger de parachutistes (Foreign Legion parachute
battalion) dropped in to succor the most heavily threatened quarter while bat-
talions of the much-feared Moroccans, supported by riverine squadrons and
introduction 5
aircraft, pushed in to carry the fight to the Viet Minh. At the end of a nearly for-
ty-day campaign Nguyen Binh’s depleted legions withdrew from the battlefield,
leaving hundreds of dead behind.13 The remainder of 1950 would see this drama
played out in a rising crescendo as massive Viet Minh offensives broke over the
French position in Cochinchina. All went down to costly defeat.
The French and their confederates won the war for Cochinchina in 1950.
By the end of the next year the Southern Committee (Nam Bộ) of the Viet Minh
was in dire straits. The blockade of Western Cochinchina (the Transbassac) had
reduced their comrades operating east of Saigon to near starvation. Attempts to
establish a counter-economy complete with its own new currency had largely
failed.14 Revenues to the Nam Bo’s Central Committee had fallen precipitously,
so much so that the Viet Minh’s subordinate commands were told to render
themselves “self-sufficient”: no help would come from above. Increasingly,
peasants fled the impoverished conditions of the Communist portions of the
south for the relative abundance of French-controlled Saigon and its environs.15
Most serious for the Viet Minh, however, was the destruction of their main
force regiments (chủ lực) over the course of 1950 in battles such as Tra Vinh.
Having refused battle—tigerlike—for the first few years of the war, in 1950 the
Viet Minh ripped aside the insurgent veil and launched into the third phase of
Mao Zedong’s revolutionary paradigm in a series of wide-ranging offensives
against the French position in the center of Cochinchina. The result, perhaps
unexpectedly, was a massive and bloody defeat for the Communists. By early
1951, they were forced to disband their regiments, so painstakingly constructed
over the previous few years, and return to the slow work of political struggle in
the villages.16 General Nguyen Binh would die in Cambodia, en route to Tonkin
to answer for these failures.17
In short, the Viet Minh lost their war in Cochinchina. The French vic-
tory there was arguably so complete that it explains why, when the Communist
insurgency began afresh in the new South Vietnam, it had to begin in Quảng
Ngãi province, an area as yet unoccupied by French forces at the time of the
war’s end in 1954 and far removed from the old provinces of Cochinchina.18 This
development is all the more important when considered in the context of the
viability of the partition of Vietnam and in comparison to the much different
unfolding of events in Tonkin. The American war for Vietnam and the context
in which it would be fought would be determined by the dynamics of French
success during the First Indochina War. Had France lost both northern and
southern portions of the country, the American war for South Vietnam might
not have occurred at all.
The conflicts in Tonkin and in Cochinchina during the First Indochina
War in fact represent two very different wars. Furthermore, this variance was
not due to a difference in strategy among the northern and southern Viet Minh.
The chief divergence was rather the conduct of the war on the French side.
In Tonkin, the French military found itself stretched thinner and thinner as it
endeavored to bring the elusive Viet Minh to decisive battle on favorable terms,
while in Cochinchina the French adopted a more restrained approach. French
strategy in the south focused on a strong but circumscribed hold over the polit-
ically and economically vital cities and eschewed large-scale mobile operations,
except insofar as they furthered the goal of defending the already pacified zone.
This restrained approach was not the product of a pre-conceived command
decision, but rather evolved from the complexity of the environment and from
the reluctant admission by a pair of reflective French commanders that they
had neither the means nor the military intelligence to summarily deal with the
Viet Minh.19 The conduct of the war in Cochinchina does not fall into the tra-
ditional rigid dichotomy often assumed between the needs of conventional war
and the sacrifices necessary to pursue pacification or counterinsurgency.20 The
French war in southern Vietnam was something else altogether.
The course of the war in Tonkin illustrates the differences between the
French strategy there and that in Cochinchina. Not long after taking over-
all command in Indochina in July 1946, General Jean Valluy determined that
he did not possess sufficient forces for a full-scale pacification of the country.
Despairing of adequate reinforcements, Valluy wagered that his only chance
for victory was to “strike at the head” and decisively defeat the main Viet Minh
cadres in their redoubt in the Việt Bắc north of Hanoi.21 This decision was
momentous for the course of the First Indochina War. From this point forward
French commanders ventured increasing amounts of men and matériel in des-
perate gambits to bring the Viet Minh to battle.
In October and December 1947, the French launched Operations Lea and
Ceinture, with tens of thousands of troops in action. Paratroop descents cou-
pled with well-timed armored thrusts pushed the French far into the interior
of Tonkin, all the way to the border with China in the vicinity of Cao Bang.
Although the operations came within a hair’s breadth of capturing Hồ Chí
Minh and Vo Nguyen Giap—the political and military leadership of the Viet
Minh—a thousand French soldiers were killed and the core of the Viet Minh
army had not been brought to battle.22
The next two years saw grandiose French operational plans scrapped, but
left isolated units holding their outposts along Route Coloniale 4 in the hopes
that from there they could eventually be used to encircle and eliminate the Viet
Minh. But holding these far-flung posts proved very costly, and their mainte-
nance would consume the limited offensive capacity of France’s mobile forces
in Tonkin.23
introduction 7
The Viet Minh reaped in 1950 the incoherence the French had sown into
their own troop dispositions. Still believing the Communists to be poorly led
and incapable of following a concerted plan, the French High Command was
caught largely unawares by the catastrophe that unfolded along RC 4.24 Even
still, the French chief in the north, Marcel Alessandri, had conceived of an
overly bold plan to abandon the frontier and so accrue to himself fifty battal-
ions, with which he planned to assail and destroy the Viet Minh.25
This, of course, was not to be. The abortive French withdrawal from the
border forts turned into a rout in which 6,000 men were killed or wounded.26
The Korean War and the attendant torrent of American supplies, plus the arrival
of General Jean de Lattre de Tassigny, saved the situation during the terrific bat-
tles for the Red River delta in 1951. But instead of seeking a political solution to
the conflict at this point, the temporary success the French enjoyed encouraged
them to seek victory in Tonkin.
To forestall Giap’s Black River campaign, which was meant as the pre-
lude to a general move to take all of the Indochinese hinterland, General Raoul
Salan launched Operation Lorraine, another massive, highly choreographed
ballet of paratroopers and riverine forces aimed at the Viet Minh supply base
at Yên Bái.27 Intelligence failed again and the French did not take Yen Bai. The
resulting delay in Viet Minh actions did afford Salan time to reinforce his new
base aéroterrestre at Nà Sản and presented Giap with a target he was unable to
resist.28 The combat that followed destroyed many of Giap’s best units, costing
him perhaps 7,000 dead and wounded.29 The victory, however limited, seemed
to verify the axiom of French strategy that had been in force since Valluy: that
the destruction of the Viet Minh main force units was to be sought somewhere
in the wilds of Tonkin. The final dénouement of the war at Dien Bien Phu in
1954 bears mentioning only insofar as it represented the apogee of a persistent
operational/strategic perspective carried out on a larger scaler, at greater dis-
tance, and with graver ramifications.
Naturally, throughout the war commanders in Tonkin remained highly
skeptical that the mire of political turmoil that typified the Fourth Republic
could ever resolve itself sufficiently to provide the war effort with anything
approaching the necessary resources to ensure victory.30 This uncertainty cre-
ated in the French that proclivity common to many military organizations: to
combine, as Douglas Porch notes, “[a] ‘worst case’ analysis on the strategic level
. . . with a ‘best case’ on the operational level.” This, according to Porch, often
makes for plans “whose major ingredient is wishful thinking.”31
The war in Cochinchina went rather differently from that in Tonkin, though
the peculiarity of the war in the south would not be evident at first. Following the
coup of 23 September 1945, when the French replaced the Viet Minh in official
control of Saigon, the French Corps expéditionnaire français en Extrême-Orient

(CEFEO) arrived in Cochinchina under the command of General Philippe
Leclerc.32 In a series of dramatic armored thrusts, Leclerc’s battle-hardened vet-
erans of European fighting quickly drove the Viet Minh from the major cities.
Operation Moussac struck at Mỹ Tho while Operation Gaur drove the Viet Minh
east and liberated Biên Hòa and Ban Mê Thuột. Surprised by the violence of the
French attack, the Viet Minh nevertheless avoided most open battles, prefer-
ring to fade into the wilderness.33 The rapid advance left the French in real con-
trol of only the important transport junctures and the economic centers near
the lucrative rubber plantations east of Saigon.34 Though on their heels, the Viet
Minh remained undefeated. They looked to rebuild their forces in the forests of
Cochinchina and in the inaccessible marshland of the Plain of Reeds.
The first two years of fighting in the south are significant for several rea-
sons. In the first place, November 1945 would witness the arrival of Nguyen
Binh, sent south to organize the disparate Vietnamese resistance elements
into a single block under Viet Minh control.35 Complementing the formation
of guerrilla and then regular units in the field, Binh also unleashed a wave of
terrorism in Saigon-Cholon to be carried on for the next several years.36 Of
even greater import for the course of the war, however, was the shift of the
French main effort north to Tonkin in 1946. Hereafter, Cochinchina would be
run as a separate command and as an economy of force theater of operations.
Subsequent commanders of the Forces terrestres du Sud Viet-nam would find
themselves consistently denuded of their best units, routinely denied reinforce-
ments, and utterly lacking in strategic direction.37
This salutary neglect forced the French in Cochinchina to look for and
adopt creative short-term solutions, often against their inclinations. In 1946 this
manifested itself in the rallying of the sects to the French cause. With battlefield
victory not in the offing, French intelligence went to work disassembling the
shaky nationalist/Communist coalition Nguyen Binh had put together. By mid-
1948 the French, aided by Binh’s heavy-handed dealings with his subordinates,
had succeeded in separating the Cao Đài, the Hòa Hảo, and the Bình Xuyên
from their alliance with the Viet Minh. Each group, complete with its own siz-
able, independent military arm, now became a key player in the anti-Com-
munist struggle in Cochinchina. They were to maintain this role throughout
the First Indochina War because the French could not afford to do without
them, even though numerous commanders wished to repress the sects should
it become practicable.38
In February 1947 the divisional structure for French units in Cochinchina
was replaced by a system of three zones (East, Center, and West), possibly copy-
ing the Viet Minh structure in place since 1945.39 Into this new system stepped
introduction 9
two remarkable figures, Colonel Charles-Marie Chanson and General Pierre

Boyer de Latour; taken together they are responsible for much of what was dis-
tinctive about the war in Cochinchina.
Colonel Charles-Marie Chanson was a colonial artilleryman with “an
invalid’s shyness, and fine, sad eyes,” according to French journalist Lucien
Bodard.40 As the commander of Zone Centre,41 Chanson combined a capac-
ity for aggressiveness—he spent most of spring 1947 engaged in mobile opera-
tions against Viet Minh in the Plain of Reeds—with the knowledge that many
of his positions were too far extended to be maintained effectively. Unlike the
French in Tonkin, Chanson abandoned his remote stations.42 He also made up
for his lack of local reserves by forming Vietnamese commandos with French
cadres. This system meant a network of reserves capable of operating across
the broad scale of conflict. Finally, not willing to see the few regular units at
his disposal pressed into static guard duty, Chanson actively pushed for the
recruiting of local militias in large numbers.43 Despite reservations, Chanson
armed them. He then set to work building schools, markets, and even medi-
cal dispensaries in “well-controlled zones.”44 At the zone level Chanson intro-
duced a productive blend of restrained pacification and a frugal use of his
reserves, a practice to be adopted more broadly when he became overall com-
mander in Cochinchina in 1949.
Chanson’s initial work fit well with the intentions of the French com-
mander in Cochinchina, General Pierre Boyer de Latour, who took over com-
mand in 1947. Upon taking control Latour found his command without mobile
reserves of any kind; his best units had been sent north to reinforce efforts
there. He spent most of 1947 securing his lines of communication and looking
to form reserves sufficient to carry the battle to the Viet Minh in the Plain of
Reeds sometime in 1948.45 In this respect, Latour was not so different in opera-
tional perspective from what was being practiced in Tonkin.
The pivotal moment came in early 1948. Possessed briefly of mobile
reserves following the failure of decisive action in Tonkin, Latour launched
Operation Vega. The goal was to encircle and destroy the main Viet Minh units
in the Plain of Reeds and to decapitate the Viet Minh’s command structure. To
the affair Latour brought a demi-brigade of the Foreign Legion, nearly eleven
battalions of infantry (including two paratroop battalions), four riverine
dinassaut squadrons (divisions navales d’assaut et détachements amphibies—
naval assault divisions), armored support, and a squadron of fighter-bombers.
Despite seemingly superb timing and flawless execution, Vega was a swing and
a miss. The Viet Minh sensed its coming. Latour had to content himself with
destroying some arms dumps and stockpiles of food, not enough to compen-
sate for the massive outlay of men and equipment.46
The failure of Vega set Latour against any more opérations d’envergures
(major operations). The Viet Minh were clearly able to sniff out conventional
attempts on their base areas and Latour did not possess the wherewithal to try
again.47 By late 1948, as the threat of Red China arriving on the frontier seemed
imminent, once again mobile units from Cochinchina were being removed for
service in Tonkin. Despite his belief that pacification first required the destruc-
tion of Viet Minh units, Latour reconciled himself to occupying in force only
Zone Centre in Cochinchina.48 Large sectors of the west would be abandoned,
while pacification within the heart of Cochinchina took on a thick, robust
form.49 Latour ordered the construction of a dense network of fortified posts
in and along the major lines of communication in Zone Centre.50 His staff fur-
thermore produced a large volume of manuals designed to promote the goals
of pacification and the ways in which the new, reduced French enclave could
be secured more thoroughly.51
To offset the ceding of the Transbassac to the Viet Minh, the French estab-
lished an economic blockade along the Bassac River, limiting their commitment
to little more than holding the principal embarkation points for rice headed east.
By 1950 this blockade was choking off the Viet Minh rice supply.52 The Communist
slogan of desperation became: “A grain of rice is worth a drop of blood.”53
In October of 1949 Chanson succeeded Latour as the commander of
Franco-Vietnamese forces in Cochinchina.54 He almost immediately com-
plained to his superiors about the removal of more units for service in Tonkin.
Typically, Chanson complained that his lack of troops and funds would force
him to forgo any extension of pacification and that this imposed standing still
was tantamount to falling back. All told, Chanson would have to rely even
more on newly created Vietnamese battalions and to place increased reliance
on local militias.55
Once again, this diminution of the strength of French arms in Cochinchina
paradoxically became a boon. Chanson’s inability to extend his zone of pacifi-
cation meant a redoubling of the French effort in and around Zone Centre. In
fact, a look at the French dispositions in early 1950 shows nearly all Chanson’s
regular units operating in Zone Centre.56 Even at this stage Chanson contin-
ued to believe that the destruction of enemy forces was his first priority.57 The
forced reduction to his command, however, prevented him from actively seek-
ing anything like a decisive engagement with the Viet Minh regular units.
Chanson employed reserves only on a limited basis and generally in response
to a threatened sector, accommodating the system he had employed when he
commanded Zone Centre to the entire theater.58 When the massive Viet Minh
offensive broke open in 1950 it fell on a powerful defensive position manned by
reasonably fresh troops, with reserves and artillery support close at hand.
introduction 11
As mentioned above, Nguyen Binh’s attempt at launching the “general

counter-offensive” in 1950 was a disastrous failure. Whether he did so because
his men in the Plain of Reeds and in parts east were starving or because the Viet
Minh’s Central Committee ordered him to do so is difficult, if not impossible, to
tell. It is likely that both rationales were at work, furthermore guided by the per-
sistent Communist belief that the “general counter-offensive” was their ultimate
path to success. Nevertheless, the outcome was that partisans and Vietnamese
government troops held against the concerted assault. In the succeeding bat-
tles, French bataillons d’intervention inflicted staggering losses on Nguyen Binh’s
carefully constructed main force regiments.59 The Viet Minh would not pose a
serious threat to French control of Cochinchina for the remainder of the war.
In his instructions to his subordinates for 1951, Chanson described the
grim work of pacification in Cochinchina as a “perpetual evolution.”60 And
indeed the events of 1950 show that the French and their Vietnamese confed-
erates had managed to strike a workable balance between the static needs of
security in pacification and the cobbling together of mobile reserves capable of
dealing with local emergencies. This success, however, was not the result of a
concerted plan, or strategy, conceived of in a commander’s mind and imposed
on recalcitrant events by dint of military skill. Instead, the two key profitable
aspects of the French endeavor were its adaptation to the complexity of the
environment—to include the presence of the sects, the enemy, and the resource
constraints—as well the recognition, chiefly by Latour and Chanson, that their
limited knowledge of enemy capabilities and intentions would not permit them
to deal any kind of death blow to the Viet Minh organization. Given their sit-
uation, the French in Cochinchina had to be frugal and constrain their area of
operations to a manageable minimum. It also meant that the war’s endgame
remained nebulous and confined the French to a largely reactive posture. And
yet this minimum effort secured the heart of Cochinchina, an area the Viet
Minh would have to take at some point. The saturation of the French presence
in that region meant that the Communists would not be able to do this through
mere subversion.
More importantly, the southern Viet Minh were deeply committed to
the necessity and utility of the three-phase Maoist strategy for guerrilla war.61
This Chinese paradigm and its Vietnamese offshoot state that revolutionary
war, such as that fought against the French, would proceed in linear fashion
through three distinct stages.62 Guerrilla tactics and an intense effort to fos-
ter political allegiance to the revolutionary movement would typify an initial
“defensive” mode. As the “people’s army” gained offensive potential, the war
would enter into the “equilibrium” phase (in which guerrilla operations coex-
isted with conventional war), which would give way in turn to the final “general
counter-offensive.” During this last stage, inaugurated by the correct identifica-

tion of the “fortuitous moment,” the revolutionary army would annihilate the
colonial opponent in a sweeping maneuver to coincide with a general upris-
ing among the oppressed population.63 Although Vietnamese scholarship since
the war has waged a protracted debate about when the final move to phase
three was indeed made, what is clear from contemporary source material at
the time is that the Viet Minh of Cochinchina believed that 1950 was their
moment; whether or not the overall Viet Minh leadership in Hanoi agreed is
another matter.64 This is important because it forces us to reassess the myth of
the omnicompetent Vietnamese Communist who could move seamlessly up
and down the ladder of revolutionary war to the consternation of his blinkered
Western adversaries.65
Much ink has been spilled assessing the power of the Communist politi-
co-military program, so much so that the preponderance of scholarship today
takes the Communist victory as having been all but inevitable.66 In reality, as
much as they represented a supposedly clear way forward, the phases of revolu-
tionary warfare were also an option-closing strategic straitjacket. As Lien-Hang
Nguyen has shown, the subtle political victory that the Democratic Republic
of Vietnam achieved over the United States after the military failure of the Têt
Offensive was, from their perspective, sheer serendipity. While it is true that
many, including Giap, did not favor the bold offensives of 1972 and the deci-
sive stroke in 1975, the controlling faction in Vietnam under Lê Duẩn always
believed that to be victorious the Communist revolution would have to end
with a massive offensive against the puppet regime. That they were able to
undercut political support for the war in the United States and thus strip the
South Vietnamese of equipment and fuel prior to this was a happy accident in
terms of their strategy.67
This strategy stands in stark, bloody relief in Cochinchina in 1950. It
was not merely that the French had succeeded in reducing much of the Viet
Minh infrastructure to starvation. The notion that the “general counter-offen-
sive” could and would resolve their problems was indelibly written into the
Communist view of history. And though we must remain hesitant to make any
strident claims in this regard due to a lack of archival material on the matter, it
seems plausible that the myth of the “general counter-offensive” and the “gen-
eral uprising” were key motivational factors for Viet Minh soldiers. The evo-
lution of Viet Minh forces in the south from guerrilla bands to professional
soldiers in conventionally organized regiments demonstrates this view. The
ideological component becomes even more important when we remember that
in Cochinchina this transformation was done absent the Chinese material sup-
port prevalent in Tonkin. They believed the war would end and hopefully end
introduction 13
soon in a great bataille rangée (pitched battle), so to speak. It is a mix of propa-

ganda on the part of the Vietnamese and forced credulity for Western service-
men that the Vietnamese Communists would have fought on virtually forever
and at whatever cost. The grand, and yet failed, offensives of 1950 help to restore
some sense of contingency to the overwritten narrative of the Indochina Wars.
It is not surprising that this story has escaped much notice, given the out-
come of the war in general and the proclivities of historians working then and
now. After all, the French lost in Indochina. Moreover, the chief battles lead-
ing up to that loss in the main occurred in Tonkin. The Viet Minh were also
undoubtedly stronger in Tonkin, especially after 1950 when they benefited from
Chinese material support and training.68 The earliest journalistic accounts of
the war and most subsequent Anglophone histories—insofar as they mention
the French at all—have naturally elected to alight ever so briefly on the various
steps leading up to the epic finale at Dien Bien Phu.69
French histories of the First Indochina War are, of course, a good deal
more balanced, but still explain the course of the war in terms of the end.
They perforce treat the war for Tonkin as the main effort, which it indeed was.
French language history of the military dimensions of the conflict must also
contend with the legacy of decolonization. To avoid the larger issues at play
much of what is published by military historians in France is of a highly special-
ized, highly detailed variety. This work, while limited in scope, is a rich fount of
information about the various and sundry arms of service, troops, and battles
that constituted the French military experience in Indochina.70
Largely due to the vexing shadow of colonialism, whether or not France
could have won in Indochina is not a major point of contention for scholars
of Indochina. The chief dispute, at least within France, is rather about how to
depict the war. On one side are those who understand the war primarily as a
colonial struggle, a prefigurement perhaps of the neocolonial war waged by the
United States over the same territory. The other side is populated to a significant
degree by those attached to the French military and who argue, after the fashion
of General Jean de Lattre de Tassigny, that France was fighting a great anti-Com-
munist struggle on behalf of the civilized, if benighted, Western world.71
Historical investigation of the peculiarity of the war for Cochinchina has
been further hindered by the effort to examine the war in its totality as an expres-
sion of a distinctive Vietnamese spirit of resistance while paying no attention
to regional variation. This practice implicitly accepts the Democratic Republic
of Vietnam’s contention that the story of Vietnam and the story of Tonkin are
one and the same—in other words, that the nationalism of those from Tonkin
is, ipso facto, analogous to Vietnamese nationalism. This line of thought was
adopted by much of the American public during the Second Indochina War
and produced the notion that the maintenance of a South Vietnam as distinct
from North Vietnam was an historical aberration and therefore a fool’s errand.72
The elision of regional distinctions within the historiography of Indochina
has been partially reversed of late. Both scholars working outside of Vietnam
and official histories produced by the current Vietnamese government have
looked to redress this shortcoming and gain back some sense of regional dis-
tinctiveness.73 Still these works remain the product of the official Communist
presses and must be scrutinized closely for their persistent bias. Indeed, in
the last few decades the Hanoi government has published a welter of material
germane to the earlier periods of the war. The relatively new Văn Kiện Đảng
series is a putative listing of Communist Central Party directives through-
out both the First and Second Indochina Wars. Though not direct archive
records, and doubtless subject to later redactions, these publications are very
helpful in breaking open the thinking of the Central Party in the north during
the war. At the other end of the spectrum, there are also a number of Viet
Minh unit histories that have come to light in recent years, which furnish
some more of the Communist on-the-ground perspective in the south during
the early years.74
On the other hand—and more typical of English material—has been the
move among diplomatic historians particularly to broaden the context and inter-
nationalize our understanding of the war.75 This other trend has been in the same
vein, but focuses its energies on those crucial years between the wars to dissect
and explain how a French colonial war became a hot test of Cold War geopo-
litical power.76 While this move undoubtedly has been beneficial for our larger
understanding of the wars, it evinces little interest in the operational/tactical
details of the French war in Cochinchina. What these works have not accounted
for are the important military details that prevented the Communist insurgency
from taking the entire length and breadth of Vietnam prior to the United States’s
involvement in the conflict. This study then, drawing on little-used French mil-
itary records for Cochinchina, can help rectify this shortcoming. It was, it must
be remembered, not just French failure that set the stage for the American inter-
vention in Vietnam, but also the ambiguous nature of French success.
A final area in which this study can be of some benefit is the ongoing dis-
cussion in academic and military circles concerning the theory and practice
of counterinsurgency warfare. The story of French success in Cochinchina
and its absence from the discourse on counterinsurgency is perplexing, espe-
cially when we consider that it was a French counterinsurgency theorist, David
Galula, who provided much of the intellectual larder for the current U.S. mili-
tary’s doctrinal manual on the subject, FM 3–24: Tactics in Counterinsurgency.77
In reality (and this does not diminish the theoretical strengths of Galula),
introduction 15
American counterinsurgency doctrine has its fons et origo in an ultimately

failed practitioner of the art of pacification, while perhaps France’s most nota-
ble success has escaped notice.
To be fair, the French did not notice either. During the Indochina War the
faddish notion of pacification prevalent among some French officers was to
fetishize the idea of the resistance to Nazi rule in occupied France. This effort
was famously carried out by Roger Trinquier and the Groupement de com-
mandos mixtes aéroportés (GCMA) in their attempts to build partisan bands
behind Viet Minh lines in the far reaches of Tonkin. These were areas pop-
ulated by an amalgam of non-Vietnamese peoples. The hope was that the
French could form them into nests of agitation against the Viet Minh, threat-
ening supply lines and forcing the Communists to divert major forces toward
their suppression. This idea probably played into the decision to occupy Dien
Bien Phu as a base from which irregular fighters in French employ could harass
Communist formations.78
After Indochina, French military attitudes to what they termed guerre
révolutionnaire became hardened around a determination to emulate the strict
political/military congruity achieved by their Communist foes.79 The war in
Algeria was to be the proving ground for these plans, as many of the military
professionals who had fought and lost in Indochina were determined not to
repeat their failure in North Africa. Foreshadowing similar arguments in the
United States, the advocates of true guerre révolutionnaire in Algeria came to
the conclusion that the real problem lay in the bickering, indecisive, and incon-
stant politics of the Fourth Republic; that is to say, the source of the failure of
French policy and strategy to achieve total unanimity. The outcome of French
counterinsurgency theory was the coup against the Fourth Republic in 1958 and
the transformation of former counterinsurgents into insurgents themselves in
the Organisation de l’armée secrète (OAS) during its campaign of terrorism
against de Gaulle’s Fifth Republic.80
Pacification in Cochinchina does not fit into this line of historical devel-
opment, nor does it square neatly with the “population-centric” concepts of
counterinsurgency espoused by Galula and more recently by the U.S. military.
Relating this discussion to the American war in Vietnam, we are immediately
drawn into the continuing struggle between those who believed the Vietnam
War was at base a conventional problem, citing at the end the massive com-
bined arms offensive by the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) in 1975, and those
who believe it was a problem of failing to adopt counterinsurgency tactics early
enough or with sufficient gusto.81
In part this Hegelian thesis/antithesis dynamic between conventional
war and counterinsurgency as polar opposites has been surmounted by the
synthesis of the two defined as “hybrid war.”82 Indeed the war in Cochinchina
is an illustrative example of a force not only confronting a hybrid opponent,
but also doing so in a multifaceted, hybrid fashion. The issue remaining is one
of prescription versus description. Both conventional war and counterinsur-
gency are, in fact, tactical/operational paradigms and are more prescriptive
than anything else, corresponding as situations dictate to the three basic strate-
gies of annihilation, attrition or exhaustion. Using these categories as historical
descriptive tools, however, leads to stilted analysis. Using counterinsurgency or
conventional war as a mode of analysis of something like the Indochina Wars
is more polemical than historical and cannot help but simplify what are always
more complex problems. Hybrid war, by contrast, is an excellent way to sche-
matize historical analysis. It does not bankrupt the descriptive task of history to
make a narrower point. And yet as a policy tool, hybrid war is difficult to con-
ceptualize and even harder to operationalize.83
This prescription/description conundrum is very common in the world of
military theory. Carl von Clausewitz’s most famous dictum that war is an exten-
sion of Politik is a classic example.84 That this German term could mean both
“policy” and “politics” has only added to the confusion. Though usually taken as
a description of war as phenomenon, it is perhaps that Clausewitz meant it as a
prescription—in other words, that war and its makers should subordinate them-
selves to a clear political objective, or to the political leadership of the state.85
Unfortunately, as we have seen time and again, this prescription is ignored or
overcome by events. War has a way of subverting its tacit political objective,
or reshaping it, hence the ever-feared “mission creep” of modern military par-
lance. In the case of the First Indochina War in Cochinchina, the political objec-
tive was a matter of great uncertainty until at least 1949 when the French opted
formally for the unification of Vietnam under Emperor Bảo Đại and conse-
quently laid to rest any notions of political independence for Cochinchina. By
that point, however, the war in the south had been raging for nearly four years.
Strategy86—that process which negotiates between political ends and tac-
tical means—is by and large a bequest of Enlightenment thought.87 Unlike pre-
vious generations, Enlightenment philosophers came to assume the unfettered
power of the human mind.88 Man’s principal shortfall is merely informational—
that is, given sufficient information and the correct formula the autonomous
human mind can reckon anything, command all.89 This idea rises closest to
the surface in things like classical economics or political science, but strategy
is not far afield.90 In economics we can see this trend in the belief that markets
and firms will look for and achieve optimal solutions. Optimization becomes,
therefore, the basic test of rationality and it is entirely appropriate to conceive
of strategy as another subspecies of the same.
introduction 17
Interestingly then, the Tonkin-based desire for a resolution to the conflict

by battle fits in rather neatly to this economic and psychological notion of ratio-
nality qua optimization.91 The problem, as history bears out, is that this way of
understanding strategy is often unworkable.92 Aiming for an optimal solution
is often beyond the ken of those involved and its continued pursuit is counter-
productive. The striving for optimal solutions—in this case the outright defeat
of the enemy—is an option-minimizing scheme. With each new attempt at res-
olution the range of possibilities open to the French High Command narrowed
as military capability and public resolve were expended fruitlessly.
By contrast, perhaps the war in Cochinchina can help us explore the pro-
cess of strategy as a heuristic of sorts and one best understood in a rational sys-
tem that is “bounded,” to use polymath H. A. Simon’s notion. This is not to say
that such a system is irrational—far from it. Instead, “bounded” rationality sim-
ply takes a dimmer view of the human mind’s ability to lay bare the dynamics
of its world. It looks to explore human behavior as a function of its limitations,
not as some parabolic approximation of optimal performance. Although histo-
rians have long been comfortable in working around intractable phenomena, it
is only relatively recently that complexity science has made this position more
acceptable to the wider world.93
These complex problems of which the world is filled eventually became
termed “wicked” for their frustrating resistance to straightforward analysis or
definition.94 Before passing into the lexicon of strategic thinkers, the notion
of “wicked problems” found a ready audience among computer programmers.
Conventionally speaking, for a computer to tackle a problem the programmer
must first define it well enough for the computer to break it down into manage-
able bits. Most human problems, however, are poorly defined. The definition
of the issue shifts constantly, and more often than not the components are so
bound up with one another that to examine any one in isolation is impossible.
For these types of issues, the tasks of problem definition and solution must pro-
ceed side by side. One cannot define the problem and then try to solve it. In this
case, as software engineer Peter DeGrace puts it, “some of the solution space
lies within the problem space.”95 These problems must be tackled iteratively.
They have no optimal solutions, only “degrees of sufficiency.”96
This is bad news for strategy, traditionally conceived of as the plan to “win
the war.” If a problem is truly wicked, as almost all wars are, the implication
is that one cannot know the way out (i.e., the solution) until one starts fight-
ing. Planning must be much more limited, recursive, and open-ended. It has
to be the search for progressively better but decidedly sub-optimal solutions.
Strategy becomes less a way to “win” the war then how to manage conflict at
some satisfactory level of effort and loss.
In Cochinchina, the French were disabused of optimal solutions early on.

Limitations of every kind forced the French into a defensive, even reactive, pos-
ture. Political and strategic uncertainty therefore obliged the French command
to forsake optimal solutions and instead look for option-maximizing pathways.
A clear push for pacification across the breadth of Cochinchina would have
hobbled any offensive, mobile capability and left the French prostrate before
concerted Viet Minh thrusts. Likewise, any attempts to completely abandon
the slow work of counterinsurgency in favor of knockout blows against the
Viet Minh would have likely missed their target and left the French in a com-
pletely unworkable security dilemma across the country. As a result, strategy
in Cochinchina became less interested in selecting the right option than in the
generating of options that would assure the survivability of the limited French
position. In this sense, strategy was a kind of heuristic, a pattern of searching
for rather than the implementation of good design.97 By dint of circumstance
and self-awareness, this search was conditioned in large part by a need to keep
options open. A corollary of this procedure was in fact the closing of options for
the Viet Minh. Deprived of the politico-economic heartland of Cochinchina
the Viet Minh eventually gambled everything on the kind of risky venture that
doomed French efforts in Tonkin.
Ironically, success in Cochinchina was a function of limitations. The
French commanders in Cochinchina, Latour and Chanson, were not military
geniuses. Moreover, they knew this and it kept them from the kind of gambits
that look to make something from nothing and more often than not scuttle
themselves on the shoals of reality. With uncertain political objectives and mea-
ger resources, they nevertheless navigated their thorny situation and brought
their enemy to the point that he engaged in risky, all-or-nothing offensives. The
Viet Minh’s cloistered strategic perspective, determined by the orthodoxy of the
Maoist three-stage paradigm was, in fact, the exact opposite of the open-ended
heuristic approach reluctantly adopted by the French. The results are histori-
cally illuminating and intriguing in terms of the ongoing evolution of strategic
thought and perhaps its migration away from Enlightenment-era tropes.98 H.
A. Simon has noted that in the final analysis people are “relatively simple” and
that “most of the complexity of their behavior may be drawn from their envi-
ronment, from their search for good designs.”99 This observation is born out in
the French war for Cochinchina.
As a final note, this is an explicitly military history of the war for
Cochinchina, organized around narratives of commanders, plans, operations,
troops, and engagements with the enemy. It is a story of soldiers. This is not
to deny the importance of political factors in shaping the way the war unrav-
eled over the course of the conflict; and as the French recognized, pacification
introduction 19
is just as much a political act as a military campaign. That being said, most of
the key political issues at stake in Cochinchina were outside of the purview of
the commanders on the ground to decisively affect, despite their frequent sta-
tus as military commander and commissioner for the republic in Cochinchina.
The political story of Cochinchina, while incredibly important in its own right,
is not the focus here. Last, for the spelling of Vietnamese names, places, and
terms, I have chosen to include tonal and diacritical marks the first time a word
is used. After that I revert to an unmarked Anglicized spelling.
ch a p t er 1
“Les armes parleront . . .”

The War for Tonkin
T hough it had simmered in Cochinchina for more than a year, the war
for Tonkin began in earnest on 19 December 1946 in the early hours
of the evening.1 Explosions from mortars and grenades rocked Hanoi, the
Vietnamese capital.2 Moments later the city went black; the Viet Minh had
blown the power plant. Giap’s troops, backed by local forces (tự vệ), departed
their barricades to batter the isolated French military positions and storm the
European civilian quarter. Similar and simultaneous combats broke out else-
where across Tonkin.3
Back in Hanoi the reluctant General Louis Morlière, commander in and
around Hanoi/Haiphong, sent his meager but hard-hitting troops to strike
back. Companies of the 6th and 21st RICs (Régiment d’infanterie coloniale)
seconded by tanks of the 2nd DB (Division Blindée, or Armored Division)
pushed into the downtown area to relieve the Viet Minh siege. By morning the
counterattack had cleared out the European quarter and the center of the city,
but the Viet Minh still clung to the outlying areas.4 With dawn’s light it was
clear that Giap’s coup de force had failed. His opportunity for a quick victory to
demoralize the shaky Fourth Republic was lost. It was now up to the French to
seek a decision in Tonkin.
The war that developed in the north was rife with paradox. It was an estab-
lished fact among the French command that they did not have the forces avail-
able to occupy more than the “vital points” in Tonkin.5 General Alphonse Juin,
chief of the État-Major de la Defense Nationale, who had served as commander
of French forces in the Italian theater in World War II as well as being a long-ser-
vice veteran of France’s colonial army, had noted that there really was no choice
between Tonkin or Cochinchina; the latter was the “centerpiece” of France’s
position in Indochina. Moreover, to engage in a war in Tonkin “exceed[ed] the
possibilities of the French army.”6 And yet, by dint of circumstance and a slowly
unrolling volition, France would seek to retain Tonkin despite in that instant
knowing better. It was an old conundrum. In his memoirs of the former centu-
ry’s war for that country, Louis de Grandmaison asked reflectively how France
20
the war for tonkin 21
had come to possess this place that it had “never coveted.” His own answer was
that “most of the time the will of men is violated by events.”7
Circumstances certainly seem to have overtaken most of the principal
actors in the later portion of 1946, well before the commencement of open hos-
tilities in December. The accords of 6 March 1946, agreed to by a coalition of
Vietnamese nationalists under heavy pressure from the occupying Chinese
and the French, had provided for an uneasy reintroduction of limited French
forces to Tonkin in order to share in the burden of security and to assist with
the management of customs duties collection, particularly in Haiphong. It
became apparent early on, however, that the Communists had no intention of
maintaining the broad-based nationalist coalition foisted upon them. Almost
immediately the Viet Minh began the process of eliminating their political
opponents. Arrests and assassinations assured the Viet Minh-ICP (Indochinese
Communist Party) control over government administration, the police, and the
militias. In view of these actions, continued claims that the Vietnamese govern-
ment represented nationalists of all stripes looked ever more farcical.8
Meanwhile, at the Chateau Fontainebleau in France negotiations between
the Vietnamese delegation led by Ho Chi Minh and the French broke down. In
order to at least have a temporary cease-fire in the south, both parties agreed to
a barely workable modus vivendi in September of 1946, with talks to resume by
early 1947.9 Tensions, nevertheless, heightened in Tonkin. French troops moved
in to occupy key areas among Tonkin’s ethnic minorities, effectively surround-
ing the Vietnamese.10
Clashes between French and Vietnamese forces flared up throughout the
fall, each diffused with a corresponding decline in goodwill. Then an appar-
ently minor incident on 20 November in which French forces seized a Chinese
ship carrying “contraband” in Haiphong harbor resulted in a shooting match
between the two groups. It gave French leadership in Indochina the pretext
it desired to take sterner action. Several days prior to the incident the French
high commissioner for Indochina, Admiral Georges Thierry d’Argenlieu, had
informed his commander of ground forces in Tonkin, General Jean Etienne
Valluy, that he should prepare his men to undertake a “forceful action looking
to politically and morally neutralize the Hanoi government.”11
Valluy was quick to act. After one further incident, Valluy cabled the com-
mander of French forces in Haiphong, Colonel Jean Debès, bypassing Debès
hesitant superior, General Morlière. “The moment has come to give a hard les-
son,” Valluy wrote. “With all the means at your disposal you should make your-
self the complete master of Haiphong and bring the Vietnamese government
and army to understand their mistake.”12 With relatively small forces Debès
assaulted Haiphong, prepping his attack with a powerful artillery barrage as
well as naval gunfire from French vessels in the harbor. Several days of intense
combat followed, but by 28 November the French were indeed the masters of
Haiphong at the cost of twenty-six dead and eighty-six wounded. Vietnamese
casualties, both military and civilian, were considerably higher.13
The Haiphong incident highlighted two features of the war for Tonkin that
would become perennial issues for the French. In the first place, decision-mak-
ing of a clearly political nature had devolved to the men on the ground in
Indochina. Not for the last time, a leadership vacuum had developed in Paris.
The Fourth Republic remained a tottering amalgam of parties incapable of
robust governance or long-term vision.14 For much of the Fourth Republic,
decision-making in all fields, including strategy, would be a function of what-
ever option all involved disliked least. In late 1946, for instance, Léon Blum
would not form a new government until 16 December, too late to affect the out-
break of war. His cabinet would last exactly one month.15
Of course, the policy of retaking Indochina was de Gaulle’s; but, dis-
gusted with the reemergence of party politics, the leader of Free France had
retired from official life in January 1946.16 With the general gone, French pol-
icy toward Indochina drifted, subject to its last impulse like a deistic world
absent any further guidance from its creator. Unfortunately for France, the
various regimes of the Fourth Republic could not bring themselves to seri-
ously reevaluate their priorities in Vietnam. Neither could subsequent govern-
ments resolve themselves to prosecute the war with anything approaching the
necessary resources.
The war would not be, as in Algeria, one fought by the large metropoli-
tan conscript occupation army. Instead, in Indochina France deployed a pro-
fessional, colonial force, even mercenary in character, as exemplified by the
Foreign Legion. This faraway war, fought by stoic professionals and their indig-
enous allies did not register with the French public, a fact that suited the many
regimes of the Fourth Republic.17 It also meant a relatively small army pur-
suing rather grandiose ends, at least for a while. Military commanders from
Valluy forward would look to square this circle by recourse to battle. Only bat-
tle offered the prospect for success. Barring a few attempts at deviation or mod-
ification this idea perforce marked the way forward.
Toward the end of December 1946, the French in Hanoi found dislodging
the remaining tu ve from the Chinese quarter of the city more difficult than
expected. Valluy instructed Morlière to blow them out with artillery and air-
strikes. Morlière demurred. He preferred to cordon off the area and thus pre-
vent greater civilian casualties. With this respite, however, much of the Viet
Minh in the area were able to filter out of the city and take to the Việt Bắc, the
rural and rugged hinterland north of Hanoi from which they would direct their
war for the next several years. Not until the end of February could Valluy con-
sider Hanoi captured.18
In Paris the outbreak of violence presented the fractious government with
a fait accompli. Socialist representatives, previously desirous of a negotiated
settlement, saw no alternative but to support the course already adopted in
Southeast Asia. The French National Assembly took up debate on Indochina
in March 1947. Communist delegates walked out of the assembly at least three
times, and once their altercations with the other representatives came to actual
fisticuffs. Apart from the far Left—still a sizable portion of the Assembly—many
delegates began to sense the force of international Communism lurking behind
events in Indochina. The French conception of their opponent changed as, for
the first time, members of the Assembly argued that the Third International
was to blame for the revolt in Indochina. Maurice Viollette, a Radical Socialist,
identified the enemy, arguing that “[n]ationalism in Indochina [was] a means”
with the goal being “Soviet imperialism.”19 Simply acknowledging what was
already the case, the French Assembly authorized military action against the
Viet Minh on 18 March 1947.20
This was all done without a clear strategic appraisal of the situation. The
relatively new French government, not particularly keen on an expansion of the
conflict, felt it had no choice. A timid policy, or so they reasoned, would result
in the fall of the government.21 But neither did they adopt a hard stance or ade-
quately evaluate the overall situation of the French Union. In March the French
had approximately 94,000 soldiers in Indochina. Eleven thousand more were
en route, but a new revolt resulted in these men being diverted to Madagascar.22
In short, the French government had decided on war and then almost imme-
diately stripped their commander in Indochina of the means to carry it out.
In the meantime Valluy, now commander-in-chief after Leclerc’s depar-
ture, believed he should resume pacification in Cochinchina before tackling
his problems in the north. To this end, a zone de pacification was established
in the west of Cochinchina.23 Civilian and military leadership differed on the
method, however, and after two months of operations, the results were mea-
ger.24 Pacification in the western portion of Cochinchina was supposed to pro-
ceed by the classic “tache d’huile” (oil slick) method, but Valluy was unwilling
to give it serious time and was certainly concerned about the demands put on
his troop strength.25 More than that, however, the high command maintained a
persistent belief that the war in Cochinchina could be most effectively won by
defeating the main Communist cadres in the north. In early February 1947 d’Ar-
genlieu argued for the essential unity of the two fights, noting “every blow to
the opponent in the north weakens him in the south.”26 Valluy concurred. The
Viet Minh were, in his estimation, a more rigid organization than the colonial
rebels of the previous century. They held power covetously at the top. To defeat
such an enemy one needed to “strike at the head,” that is, defeat the main Viet
Minh organization in its redoubt in Tonkin.27
Throughout the spring and summer of 1947, while quasi-pacification oper-
ations occurred in the south, the French corps in Tonkin engaged in shaping
operations meant to set the stage for the decisive stroke in the fall. Operation
Georges re-secured the route between Hanoi and Haiphong; Operation
Papillon temporarily established French contact with the principal seat of the
Mường Federation in Hoa Binh.28 Other localized actions aimed at opening
major roadways, forcing Viet Minh regular units to fall back and largely aban-
don the urban centers. Provincial forces were left to resume guerrilla warfare.29
By October, Valluy was prepared to unleash his coup de main. From
Cochinchina he had pulled four battalions of infantry, two armored squadrons,
a mountain artillery group, and engineers, as well as significant aerial and river-
ine assets. Together with the forces already in Tonkin, Valluy formed three tac-
tical groupements: S, C, and B. The foremost mission was to “destroy the hostile
pyramid” of the enemy’s military and political organization, rendering it sense-
less both in Tonkin and beyond. Secondly, Valluy intended to sever any pos-
sible lines of communication between the Viet Minh and China, particularly
across Route Coloniale 4 (RC 4) that wound its way precariously through the
rugged mountains along the border. French intelligence had accurately deter-
mined that the main body of the Viet Minh resistance, including its organs of
government, had retired to a rough quadrilateral north of Hanoi. This area was
then linked to China by two main arteries: one running through Lao Cai, the
other passing by Cao Bang along the border and connecting the temporary Viet
Minh command post at Bắc Kạn with China.
Operation Lea began on 7 October 1947. In total it was a testament to
French military skill perfected in the heat of World War II. Ad hoc groupings
with little or no time to train together conducted a variegated tactical maneu-
ver with airborne, motorized, and riverine assets all moving in concert. As with
many other operations to come, it began with the paras (French paratroopers).
The Demi-brigade de marche parachutiste (DBMP), twelve-hundred strong and
designated Groupement S, dropped on Bac Kan on the 7th and 8th. An addi-
tional battalion jumped into Cao Bang a day later.30 It was a very near-run thing.
At Bac Kan the paras came within a hair’s breadth of capturing both Ho Chi
Minh and Giap; they found fresh correspondence still lying on Ho’s field desk.31
To reinforce the paratroopers, two great pincers (Groupements B and C)
moved out to encircle the hopefully disoriented Communists near Bac Kan.
Groupement B under Colonel André Beaufre—later the architect of the 1956
Suez campaign and France’s most notable strategic theoretician—moved along
RC 4 from Lang Son in trucks, but soon had to dismount much of its Moroccan
infantry due to tough going. Upon reaching Cao Bang, its first objective,
Beaufre dispatched elements south to link up with the DBMP. Unfortunately
for Valluy, after the initial shock the tenacious Viet Minh had regrouped and
now fought the paras tooth and nail around Bac Kan.32
The southern arm of the pincer movement (Groupement C) proceeded
north by way of the Clear River. Difficulties in navigating the sandy water
forced it to disembark after only thirty kilometers. Placing commandos in
front, the remainder of the operation was conducted on foot “en pleine forêt”
(in the heart of the forest).With great physical exertion Groupement C broke
into the Viet Minh redoubt on 17 October. The enemy was already gone.33
Over the next few weeks the Troupes françaises de l’Indochine du Nord
(TFIN) launched a number of small operations meant to destroy Viet Minh
depots and to secure the various lines of communication, particularly RCs 3
and 4 and the waterways. Taken together, these measures were intended to
shore up the various “mooring points” that were now in French hands, of which
Cao Bang and Bac Kan were the most significant. By late October the French
had established convoy traffic along RC 4 and pushed forces up the Clear River
to the vicinity of Phủ Doãn.
Having failed to bring the main Viet Minh units to battle, Valluy initiated
Operation Ceinture on 19 November. He tripled the number of tactical groupe-
ments and planned a massive concentric operation to surround and destroy
the Viet Minh position centered in the vicinity of Thaï Nguyen. Two groupe-
ments proceeded by boat, while seven more stepped off from various locations
on the periphery of the Communist enclave. As before, a paratroop drop on the
principal objective inaugurated the maneuver. Proceeding by stages, with night
marches, raids, and additional airborne operations, the French cleared out the
region in a month’s time.
In material terms the Viet Minh losses were significant. The French
destroyed numerous arms fabrication sites and captured more than a thousand
rifles and assorted machine guns, in addition to a thousand tons of munitions
and a variety of artillery pieces. For an army not yet receiving serious exter-
nal aid, these losses represented a costly blow to developing Viet Minh com-
bat power. Furthermore, at a cost of 242 killed, the French claimed to have
dispatched 7,200 Viet Minh.34 This figure, however, is highly suspect.35 In all
likelihood, while some Viet Minh units were probably badly damaged, Valluy’s
autumn offensive failed to destroy the core of Giap’s regulars, nor did it suc-
ceed in bringing them to decisive battle. Lea and Ceinture not only demon-
strated the tactical proclivities of the French military, they also made manifest
the inherent difficulties in importing European-style warfare to the poor roads
and vast forests of Vietnam. Indeed, as Leclerc had foreseen, arms had spoken,
but their utterances proved mumblings, incoherent and indecisive. The only
clear bequest of Valluy’s autumn offensive was the maintenance of the tenuous
line of strong points along the stony path masquerading under the auspicious
name RC 4.
The failures of 1947 turned France’s shambling grand strategy toward what
many hoped would prove a diplomatic coup. The new high commissioner,
Émile Bollaert, who replaced d’Argenlieu in March 1947, had in late July advo-
cated for a peace with “neither victors or vanquished” and appeared on the
cusp of offering the Viet Minh a cease-fire. Valluy immediately left for France
to alert certain members of the government, who then called Bollaert to Paris
for “consultation.”36 Upon his return and following Lea’s failure, Bollaert looked
to explore the possibility of forming a new Vietnamese national government
under the auspices of the Emperor Bao Dai.
Given France’s unwillingness to negotiate with Ho Chi Minh and the
increasingly pervasive Communist shadow government operating through-
out the countryside of Vietnam, Bollaert hoped Bao Dai could at once unite
Vietnam—thus deflating the Viet Minh’s nationalist appeal, but also undercut-
ting the position of the Cochinchina separatist movement—and accept an inde-
pendence within the confines of the French Union. Though a scion of the royal
family that had united Vietnam in the early nineteenth century, Bao Dai himself
was an ambivalent figure for most Vietnamese, certainly not a strong standard
around which Vietnamese nationalism could rally. While a step forward in the
cause of Vietnamese independence, a unified Bao Dai-led Vietnam would still
need to submit to metropolitan France in matters of defense and diplomacy.37
The Bao Dai gambit was marginally worth the effort in the short run. This
new government received the tepid endorsement of the two Catholic bishoprics
in Tonkin, Phát Diem and Bùi Chu, as well as the recognition of the national-
ist Đại Việt Party.38 Independence under Bao Dai—largely a legal fiction—did
see some desert the increasingly hard life in the Vietnamese-controlled hin-
terland for the relative prosperity of the cities; most did not turn to active sup-
port for the government. The prevailing attitude was “wait and see.”39 However,
in the long run the acceptance of a unified Vietnam under a national govern-
ment operating within the French Union also meant that the overtaxed expe-
ditionary corps would be politically committed to a defense of all of Vietnam.
Weighing Cochinchina’s relative worth and perhaps adjusting French strategy
accordingly would no longer even be a possibility.
Frustrations mounted, and after an attempt on his life, Bollaert resigned in
March 1948. Valluy left shortly thereafter, convinced that French civilian lead-
ership in both Indochina and in the métropole did not have the stomach for
war.40 His replacement was General Roger Blaizot, a colonial officer who would
come to favor large operations as the necessary precursor to successful paci-
fication.41 To replace Bollaert France eventually sent Léon Pignon, a veteran
of Indochina matters and a partisan of the d’Argenlieu camp. Pignon insisted
that France remain the pacesetter for Vietnamese independence. Liberalization
of French policy would occur only after the Viet Minh had been marginal-
ized. At this point the French fell into the fatal circular logic of war that John
Kennedy would identify much later: in Indochina the French took to promis-
ing real independence in the future once the Communists had been defeated,
but of course the Communists could only be defeated by the granting of real
independence.42
The next two years were crucial for the French. It was at this time, unfor-
tunately, that a form of strategic schizophrenia descended upon the course of
the war. The autumn offensives had left the FTNV (Forces terrestres du Nord
Viet-nam) strung out in a great half-loop stretching from Hanoi to Lang Son
and then precipitously along RC 4 out to Cao Bang.43 This disposition—one
of static units isolated in extremis—had been intended to separate the Viet
Minh from their bases in China, but also served as launching points for future
attacks against Communist units in the Viet Bac. However, the end of 1947 had
seen a reduction in forces in Indochina; furthermore, having failed in Tonkin,
Valluy sent four battalions to Cochinchina to try and break the enemy there.
The weakened troops in Tonkin were left to hold a much-expanded footprint
with far too few effectives.44
Holding RC 4 meant that pacification in the Red River delta suffered as
well, even as time was running short. The declining fortunes of the Nationalist
Chinese made it all the more imperative to either build a manageable gov-
ernment or destroy the Viet Minh once and for all. If Chiang Kai-shek were
defeated, the dynamic in Indochina would surely change. On all fronts, in fact,
international Communism appeared to be on the march. In 1948 represen-
tatives from the various Southeast Asian Communist organizations, includ-
ing delegates from Vietnam, met in Calcutta to coordinate their activities.
Communist risings in Burma, Malaya, and Indonesia followed soon after.45 In
France Communist leaders made known their intention to launch debilitating
strikes, focusing especially on sailors and dockyard workers, both necessary to
keeping the troops in Indochina supplied.46
Into this precarious situation stepped an invidious and temporizing French
government. Perhaps thinking Bao Dai workable (or not caring), the Socialists
first reduced the military budget and then in a fit of pique in July 1948 resigned
their seats in the government, thus bringing down the administration of Robert
Schuman. His successor, André Marie, did not want to immediately jeopardize
his fragile coalition and so would take no firm stand on Indochina.47 Even so,
Marie’s government lasted a mere five days. The ministerial crisis continued
throughout the summer, punctuated by massive labor strikes across France.48
Meanwhile in Indochina, Blaizot, suffering from a lack of men and money,
was unwilling to strike a hard line strategically in the face of governmental con-
fusion. To hold the entire country and engage in a thoroughgoing campaign of
pacification seemed impossible based on events in the south. To Blaizot’s eyes
the fighting in Cochinchina, especially in Saigon, had devolved into an inglo-
rious battle for the streets, with all capacity for large offensives crushed under
the weight of the guerre des postes (positional war). He deplored the sacrificing
of mobile units for fixed security duty and wished, as far as possible, to avoid a
similar fate in Tonkin.49
Moreover, France was simply not sufficiently interested. In a poll con-
ducted in November 1948, the French public placed Indochina last among their
concerns. For most of the war between 20 and 30 percent of the population had
no opinion whatsoever on the fighting. For the government the war was not
even a war, but rather an “opération de police.”50 Indeed, throughout the war
the French government failed to place the Forces terrestres d’Extrême-Orient
(FTEO) funding on a war footing. In fact, finances for the FTEO were handled
as if its units were in normal garrison status. Budgets had to be presented six
months in advance through two different government agencies back in Paris.51
On the other hand, the French government did offer a modest stream of
reinforcements. With these and the hope of more, Blaizot conceived of a four-
phased plan centered on Tonkin. Like his predecessor, Blaizot considered the
Viet Minh regular units in the north to be the strategic center of gravity. In
the first phase the FTNV were to re-open the road and riverine lines of com-
munication with the Tai country. Next, French forces would take the line of the
Red River from Việt Trì to Lào Cai, in theory separating the Viet Minh north-
east of Hanoi from their sources of supply further south, particularly in the
province of Thanh Hoá. Lastly, French maneuver units, along with a promised
eight battalions from France, would descend on Giap’s redoubt in the Viet Bac
and wipe out the regular Communist establishment. Once complete, Blaizot
would attack and seize Thanh Hoa, the seedbed of Ho’s rebellion and the ances-
tral homeland of the imperial family.52
The scheme was hopelessly impractical. Just to complete the occupation
of the Red River valley and to continue to hold the line of RC 4 would have
required more aerial resupply than the French air force could possibly hope
to muster.53 Secondly, the plan assumed a measure of government stability and
resolve in sending reinforcements that even a casual observer of the war would
have found problematic. In any case, Blaizot’s desire to withdraw from the
frontier was defeated on political grounds. Blaizot’s operational commander

in Tonkin, Marcel Alessandri, a much more than casual observer of Indochina
events, disagreed with his chief ’s vision. Instead of this wide-ranging attack,
Alessandri proposed that Ho and Giap be left alone in their mountainous hide-
out. Would it not be better to work assiduously to control the delta and gradu-
ally deprive the Viet Minh of both men and rice?54
In the end both men were denied. In October 1948 Minister of Defense
Paul Ramadier, basing his decision on manpower considerations, informed
Blaizot that he should carry out at most the first two phases of his plan. In
hindsight this was madness. Blaizot’s master œuvre was an all or nothing ven-
ture. Yet, rather than fall back on Alessandri’s plan for a consolidated hold on
the delta, Blaizot engaged in a painful war of half-measures.55
Gathering his meager reserves and in spite of a growing guerrilla war in
Hanoi and Haiphong, Blaizot inaugurated a series of actions that aped some-
what his original scheme. He opened in October with a feint in Thanh Hoa,
Operation Sirene, in which naval elements with aviation support hoped to
convince Giap that the French would strike their rice farms. The bombard-
ment of the coast was too short and too shallow to cause Giap to change much.
Operation Ondine in November witnessed paratroopers and riverine assault
troops (dinassauts) attack Viet Tri with great skill and no effect. Likewise, in
December Blaizot engaged his entire mobile reserve in Operation Pégase north
and west of Hanoi. The four battalions involved managed to destroy a number
of primitive Viet Minh arms factories, but failed to engage any large units.56
The campaigning of 1948 and 1949 had consumed more than a little war
matériel and cost more than a few lives. Furthermore, rather than contract
its holdings, Blaizot’s offensives had in fact expanded his perimeter. Of more
immediate concern was the imminent victory of the Chinese Communists
in 1949 and their arrival on the border with Vietnam.57 Giap, sensing events
turning his way, greatly expanded his guerilla activities in 1949, attacking and
harassing French positions. Then, on 27 March 1949 at the far eastern edge of
Tonkin, a detachment of Chinese Communists seized Móng Cái bloodlessly
from Nung partisans. The occupation lasted for less than twenty-four hours,
but news of the event shook the government of Henri Queuille in Paris, who
dispatched not only sizable reinforcements but also sent the French army’s chief
of staff, General Georges Revers, on an inspection tour of Indochina in May
and June. Revers’s report argued that the Troupes françaises d’Extrême-Orient
(TFEO) should make the pacification of the Red River delta its first priority. It
also argued for the evacuation of the line of forts along RC 4 and the unifica-
tion of military and civilian powers in one chef strong enough in personality
and reputation to impose a coherent vision on the course of the war.58 Blaizot
favored the option, but it did not sit well with Queuille, harkening to mind the
precipitous withdrawal from Lang Son in 1885 that brought down the govern-
ment of Jules Ferry amid considerable embarrassment.59 Blaizot was relieved of
his command in September 1949 and replaced with a complete newcomer to
Indochina, General Marcel Carpentier.60
Knowing that a desire to withdraw from the border had scuttled his pre-
decessor, Carpentier contended for the retention of the French position on the
border. To withdraw, he claimed, would mean forfeiting the ability to hinder
Viet Minh communications with China. Not only that, but to abandon RC 4
would inevitably lead to the loss of RC 3, with a corresponding loss in control
over population and a serious decline in intelligence. Lastly, holding RC 4 gave
a “practical sense” to the otherwise artificial Vietnamese border and did not
involve any “loss of face” with respect to the Chinese.61
Meanwhile, in the delta pacification progressed, but could offer no ready
solution to the problem of the increasing potential of the Viet Minh army. Even
the blockade of rice going to the Viet Minh regions was insufficient to stymie
the growth of their combat power. Time was slipping away. General Marcel
Alessandri, while retaining his post as commander of French ground forces in
Tonkin, was also made the chief of the Zone opérationnelle du Tonkin (ZOT),
an interservice echelon meant to facilitate the planning and coordinating of all
military activity. In this capacity Alessandri developed an audacious scheme
to deal summarily with the Viet Minh before the weight of Chinese aid could
become overwhelming. Alessandri intended to abandon posts everywhere and
so muster nearly fifty battalions with which to maneuver. In six simultaneous
concentric operations Alessandri would surround and destroy Giap’s rapidly
forming Chinese-trained army before it could take to the offensive.62 It was
a bold, probably unworkable scheme. Most of the units Alessandri proposed
to use were manifestly unfit for mobile field operations. And, should it fail,
his plan would have dramatically upended the French position in Tonkin. In
any event, Carpentier at this juncture would not abandon RC 4 and, as before,
French posturing was undone by events.
But the French were not the only ones interested in battle. Over 1950
Giap’s units had grown considerably stronger, though the French were slow
to realize it.63 His fortunes waxing, Giap thought it time to unleash his new
formations, flush with weapons and fresh from training across the border in
Communist China.64
The bombardment of Đông Khê opened in the early hours of 25 May 1950.
Soldiers of two companies of the bataillon de marche of the 8th Régiment de
tirailleurs marocains (BM/8e RTM), as well as the men of the 146th Compagnie
légère de suppletifs militaries, rushed to their posts. The opening salvo inflicted
few casualties, but did render Dong Khe’s artillery section of 3.7-inch moun-
tain guns, of necessity employed in open pits, inoperable. Sergent-chef Marty,
cadre to the Moroccans, gasped with wonder as he counted the Viet Minh
artillery now firing on his position from the crests and mountainsides over-
looking Dong Khe. Six tubes of 75-mm mountain guns plowed the citadel and
surrounding points of the garrison. Before noon the Viet Minh of the 308th
Brigade had produced three more. Perhaps for the first time in the war the
French fought both outnumbered and outgunned. By 27 May, Dong Khe fell to
fire and assault. Giap had moved up the ladder of revolutionary warfare and,
following Mao’s dictums, offered battle on his own terms and with overwhelm-
ing force.65 The red berets of the 3rd BCCP (Bataillon colonial de commandos
parachutistes) took it back almost immediately with an incredibly daring jump
right onto Dong Khe itself. 66 Viet Minh soldiers still looting the husk of the fort
were caught totally unawares and found themselves driven from Dong Khe in
less than fifteen minutes.67
Despite the dramatic retaking of the citadel by the ever-intrepid paras, the
precipitous fall of Dong Khe—even the Viet Minh did not expect to capture it
so quickly—had exposed the tremendous vulnerability of the French disposi-
tion along RC 4. Carpentier reversed course in mid-August and opted to with-
draw from Cao Bang and Dong Khe.68
What followed was a complete disaster. Even though 1950 saw stinging
reverses from which the Viet Minh in Cochinchina would not recover, the
catastrophe of RC 4 cast a deathly pallor over the TFEO. It began on September
16 when Giap sent two regiments, the TD 174 and 209, to retake Dong Khe.
The post fell again quickly under a massive weight of firepower and human
wave assaults. Cao Bang was now alone and cut off, except by aerial resupply.
Carpentier rejected any notion of evacuating the post by air.69 Instead the garri-
son of Cao Bang—the III/3e REI (Régiment étranger d’infanterie—i.e., Foreign
Legion Infantry Regiment) and the 3rd Tabor would withdraw along RC 4 to
Dong Khe. A second column from That Khê would speed north to take Dong
Khe, thus holding the important passes and facilitating the combined move
from there back to That Khe and eventually to Lang Son.70
The legionnaires of Cao Bang stepped off on 3 October 1950, to begin
Operation Thérèse. Their relief column, Groupement Bayard, comprising the
1st and 11th Tabors, the 8th RTM and the 1st BEP (Bataillon étranger para-
chutistes), had already stalled before Dong Khe the day before and was forced
to leave the track of RC 4 to seek a way around. It was now left to Colonel
Pierre Charton and his men from Cao Bang to rescue their own relief column.
Eventually the two haggard forces, surrounded and under withering attack,
were annihilated in the Coc Xa gorge. Panic seized the French command. On
10 October That Khe was evacuated. The 3rd BCCP, left as a rear guard for the
withdrawing column, was destroyed nearly to a man.71 It was not for lack of
courage that France lost Indochina.
With forces streaming down RC 4, Colonel Louis Constans in Lang Son
decided upon its evacuation as well. Despite a strong position, well stocked
and laden with heavy artillery, Lang Son was abandoned; its great stores of
provisions were only partially destroyed before leaving.72 All told France lost
close to nine battalions of infantry in the RC 4 disaster, some 6,000 men killed
or wounded.73 The TFEO came streaming back to the delta, abandoning the
northwest as well. A small force of three Tai battalions and one North African
unit retained a tenuous hold on Tai country running out to the west in the
direction of Nghia Lo and Lai Chau.74
General Boyer de Latour took over as commander in Tonkin on 14 October
1950. He immediately set to work to shore up the TFEO’s defensive position in
and around the delta. On 26 October 1950, the Chinese 40th Army appeared
in Korea, smashing Republic of Korea regiments as it came.75 Latour believed
a Chinese attack in Vietnam to be a real possibility and so he set to work con-
structing a fortified zone encompassing Haiphong. Around Hanoi Latour
looked to establish defensive positions under cover of artillery, and further-
more tried to reconstitute as much as possible the groupements mobiles (GM)
by stripping troops from static units, now that the overall perimeter was sig-
nificantly reduced.76 The defensive orientation of Latour’s measures and his
decision to prepare for the evacuation of women and children made the main-
tenance of Tonkin seem a forlorn hope.77
Two things saved the French position in Tonkin: material wherewithal
made possible by the onset of the Korean War and better leadership. Just three
days after the start of the Korean conflict, eight American C-47 transport air-
craft arrived in Saigon bursting with supplies. By the end of that month there
was the equivalent of twelve infantry battalions’ worth of equipment under way
to the beleaguered French.78 At the same time, the revolving door of French
commanders in Indochina swung again. In a necessary inversion of his more
famous formulation, Carl von Clausewitz, the Prussian philosopher and gen-
eral, contends, “at the highest level the art of war turns into policy.” He therefore
argues that a commander-in-chief should, whenever practicable, be simulta-
neously a member of the cabinet. That is to say, he should be attuned to the
political factors that gave rise to the war and continue to shape its direction. In
effect, Clausewitz is arguing for a concept of the grand strategist fully capable of
reconciling ends, ways, and means within their political parameters.79 In 1950,
Paris was willing to try anything. Carpentier and Pignon were out, sacked for
their failures. To replace them came one of France’s ablest soldiers, General Jean
de Lattre de Tassigny. Supremely confident in his own abilities, de Lattre quite

nearly kept France in the fight in Tonkin by sheer force of will.
On the Viet Minh side, bolstered by the heady certainty of historical mate-
rialism, Giap prepared his forces for the long awaited tổng phản công (general
counteroffensive).80 They would sweep into the delta and push the demoral-
ized French defenders into Haiphong harbor. By December 1950 Giap had three
fully formed sư đoàn (divisions), with two more quite nearly ready. Regional
units, previously organized for guerrilla operations, grouped themselves into
companies, battalions, and in some rare cases, regiments.81 In January 1951
Giap’s assault on the delta began and the battle the French had longed for was
brought to their doorstep.
Divisions 308 and 312 of Giap’s army emerged from the Tam Đảo massif
north of Vĩnh Yên on 13 January. In these low hills, de Lattre had constructed a
series of strong points around which his GMs—including four new ones formed
by siphoning off forces from the rest of Indochina—could mount a mobile
defense.82 Defending Vinh Yen were two mobile groups including GM 3 under
Colonel Paul Vanuxem, who gave as good as he got. The situation became crit-
ical by 16 January as the 308th attacked en masse.83 De Lattre arrived by plane
the same day to survey the situation. Knowing the delta lay open behind Vinh
Yen, de Lattre called in all the airpower he could muster. B-26 bombers, newly
arrived from America and flying in direct support of the ground troops, plas-
tered the Viet Minh with napalm.84 Communist troops went down screaming
by the thousands. Incredibly, they came on. The action was only ended after de
Lattre committed his last available reserves, GM 2. With 6,000 dead on the field
of battle, Giap at last broke off the fight. Though victorious, de Lattre’s forces
were not capable of pursuit. Despite the success of the RC 4 campaigns, the Viet
Minh divisions were not prepared to confront the French in open battle so close
to French supply dumps and airfields.
Giap was not prepared, however, to forgo the general counteroffensive.
Instead he began moving forces east toward the area around Mạo Khê. Close
to the sea, a concerted thrust here by the Viet Minh would rapidly endanger
the French hold over Haiphong, perhaps causing the rest of their position to
collapse in on itself. Preparations for the attack, to be carried out by the 308th,
312th, and 306th Divisions, took more than two months, demonstrating again
the logistical shortcomings of the Viet Minh. The offensive opened on the night
of 23 March 1951 against a motley assembly of partisans, Senegalese, and an
armored platoon in Mao Khe, about four hundred troops in total. Unfortunately
for Giap, he had again not reckoned fully with the firepower of modern war-
fare or from whence it might come. Moored in the Đá Vách River, French naval
vessels bombarded the Viet Minh attackers, stopping the offensive dead in its
tracks.85 The timely intervention of the 6th BCCP and supporting fire from
artillery positioned near Đông Triề handed de Lattre another victory.86
Giap once again shifted his focus, this time south and west to the course of
the Đáy River in the vicinity of Phát Diem. For this operation, Giap combined
conventional strikes with guerrilla activity mounted in the French rear areas.
Then, while the 304th and 308th struck against the French position between
Phủ Lý and Phat Diem in the early hours of 29 May, hoping to hold French
forces in place, the 320th advanced to seize the largely Catholic bishopric before
help could arrive. Yet again Giap was checked by superior French firepower
delivered by air and from dinassaut units operating on the Day River, and by
the timely arrival of reserves.87
The battle for the Day River closed Giap’s grand offensive of 1951. The Viet
Minh commander then turned his attention to easier pickings and moved the
312th against Nghĩa Lộ, auguring things to come. De Lattre dropped in three
paratroop battalions and after a series of sharp actions managed to prevent the
Viet Minh from breaking into the highlands. The fight cost Giap an additional
1,500 dead before the rains came and put an end to the campaign season.88
De Lattre seized upon this opportunity to significantly recast the diplo-
matic nature of the French effort in Indochina. In late summer 1951 he visited
the United States, meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and President Harry
Truman. There he argued that if Indochina fell, all of Southeast Asia would be
imperiled and eventually the entire Middle East; France and Europe were surely
not far behind.89 Speaking forcefully, he convinced many that the French were
not fighting a grimy “colonial war,” but were engaged in a life and death strug-
gle “on a Red battlefield for liberty and peace.”90
One of de Lattre’s chief aims in his visit was economic. Supply and finance
had always been the weak points of the French endeavor. By 1952, President
Vincent Auriol calculated French expenditures in Indochina to be on the order
of 1.6 billion francs, or twice the aid France had received from the Marshall
Plan.91 In 1950, one-time finance minister Pierre Mendès-France claimed that
the cost of the war was simply too crippling and that the only remaining solu-
tion was “to seek a political accord . . . with those who fight us.”92 The new com-
mander-in-chief qua high commissioner was not interested in such sentiments.
Happily for de Lattre, supplies and money began to flow in ever greater
earnest following his visit to America. Already scheduled shipments were
accelerated and new ones began. In the brief period between de Lattre’s U.S.
stop and early 1952 the United States delivered some 8,000 general-purpose
vehicles, 650 combat vehicles, 200 aircraft, and 14,000 automatic weapons,
including 53 million rounds of ammunition.93 In monetary terms, American
aid to France during the 1951–52 fiscal year climbed to $330 million, of which
sum 66 percent was spent on the war in Indochina.94 The aid was clearly critical
for the continued French war effort. Even with American assistance, military
expenditure in Indochina at times still accounted for a full third of the Fourth
Republic’s budget.95 Despite these apparently massive outlays however, France
in fact hardly ever imperiled reconstruction at home for the sake of the con-
flict, having recourse to the so-called “piastre traffic” and American aid to hold
down their own costs. Indeed by 1954 the United States was paying for nearly
80 percent of the war.96
Throughout the spring and summer of 1952 de Lattre had looked to pac-
ify the delta. Operations like Méduse, Reptile, and Mandarine aimed, among
other things, at destroying TD 42, the independent regiment ensconced in
nominally French-controlled territory and the one that had given the TFEO fits
during the Day River battle.97 Harried and pursued, TD 42 perennially escaped
destruction.98 But pacification for de Lattre was a seasonal affection, a sum-
mer romance perhaps to be worked at only while the rains made the “real war”
unmanageable.
The general was dissatisfied with purely defensive victories. He also realized
that catching the enemy in the open on French terms as had been attempted in
1947 was not possible. The battles of 1951, however, had taught the French com-
mand several lessons they thought important for the future. In the first place,
for all their organization and new equipment courtesy of the Chinese, Giap’s
divisions suffered mightily when attacking prepared positions. French coordi-
nation of ground forces, airpower, and naval assets far exceeded Giap’s capacity
to overcome them. Secondly, the Viet Minh were still hampered by logistical
weakness. Supplied largely by human portage with only a smattering of trucks,
Giap had required almost two months of provisioning and moving between
each of his attacks on the delta.99 Though each stab drew in the majority of de
Lattre’s reserves, they were separated enough in time that they did not over-
whelm the defenders.
De Lattre hoped to put this knowledge to good use and in so doing reprise
the strategic offensive. If the Viet Minh could not be tackled outright, de Lattre
could at least take something vital and force them to engage in battle with the
French on the tactical defensive. His selected target was Hòa Bình, capital of
Muong country, faithful French allies. The seizure of Hoa Binh, sitting astride
the Viet Minh supply lines coming out of Thanh Hoa, would significantly hin-
der the maintenance of Giap’s units north of Hanoi. It would also demonstrate
that France was able to undertake offensive action and convince American law-
makers and the French Assembly that de Lattre was putting their money and
matériel to good use.100 If he could compel the Viet Minh to attack this salient,
de Lattre would, above all, draw in Giap’s divisions and bloody them severely.101
One cannot entirely discount another motive—revenge. At the Battle of the

Day River de Lattre’s own son, Bernard, had died with his NCOs at the head of
his company of Vietnamese soldiers.102
There was a third lesson to be drawn from the war in 1951: eventually Giap
would come for the delta. Hanoi and Haiphong are and were clearly the heart of
Tonkin. Ho Chi Minh’s claims to revolution would all ring hollow so long as he
remained master of only a mountainous solitude. To gain control over north-
ern Vietnam meant ipso facto to control the delta. In hindsight, one can argue
that Giap’s attacks in 1951 were ill timed; it is much harder to say that they were
not inevitable.103
But de Lattre was unwilling, perhaps unable, to wait. To hold the delta as
the French had done out of necessity in the south required not only the ceding
of terrain, but the relinquishing of time as a manageable, malleable commod-
ity. French commanders prided themselves on their ability to surmount great
distances on razor-thin schedules. They did it time and again, often to no real
purpose other than the self-satisfaction of having done it. It was the feel of the
boar hunt with bullets and bombers in place of lances and knives. Furthermore,
to retreat firmly to the delta meant the abandoning of their allies among the
Tai, the Muong, the Tho, and the Lao in favor of the Vietnamese, the source
of their many frustrations. Among other things, a sense of honor and roman-
tic commitment also compelled the French army to stay the course.104 On the
purely military level, some portions of Indochina had to be relinquished for
the foreseeable future. De Lattre would not hear of it. “France had spent too
much wealth and blood protecting [Indochina],” he insisted.105 Vietnam, de
Lattre believed, was the “grand rendez-vous of France. If we lose here, every-
thing will collapse.”106 Rather than making more possible, the victories in 1951
constrained France’s strategic options. Anything else seemed unnecessary. Giap
was battered and humbled. American aid replaced the lean years with a sea-
son of abundance. The phantasm of decisive victory hovered enticingly, almost
within grasp.
After a brief diversionary operation, the TFEO launched Operation Lotus
on 14 November 1951. True to form, paratroop drops on the main objective pre-
pared the way for a strong thrust by multiple GMs along RC 6 complete with
engineer, aviation, and riverine support. Hoa Binh was taken easily; holding
it proved another matter. Giap reacted quickly, accepting battle amid the lush
vegetation and serpentine curves of the Black River where his troops could
sneak close to French positions before launching their assaults.
De Lattre returned to France on 19 November 1951; he died from can-
cer less than two months later. His replacement, Raoul Salan, was left hold-
ing the bag, as it were.107 In response to de Lattre’s offensive Giap had promptly
brought in three divisions—the 304th, 308th, and 312th—and choked off the
salient, slowly grinding away at the string of French posts necessary to keep
RC 6 and the Black River open. By February 1952, the effort had exhausted
the French and sucked in nearly all of the available forces d’intervention, some
twenty-plus battalions. At the same time, powerful Viet Minh regular forces—
the greater part of two divisions—infiltrated the delta unobstructed. Operation
Arc-en-Ciel, the arduous phased withdrawal from Hoa Binh, was complete by
24 February 1952. The TFEO suffered more than 1,500 killed or wounded; Viet
Minh casualties totaled 25,000.108 Though casualties for the French were rela-
tively light, material wastage was immense. There was also the psychological
shock the withdrawal wrought. The campaign for Hoa Binh had been highly
publicized. Before the press, Salan had vowed to stay, calling unhelpful atten-
tion to a war most were willing to ignore. So soon after de Lattre’s departure,
France once more seemed overcautious and wilting.109
More severe was the compromised situation in the delta. The mobile forces
required weeks for refit. Meanwhile, static guard posts unused to facing any-
thing but guerrillas were subjected to violent attacks by Giap’s main body units,
which were operating dispersed throughout the region. When his mobile forces
finally rebounded, Salan had to devote the greater part of the next few months
to cleaning up the mess. In the case of the 316th Division, Salan could not com-
pel it to leave the delta until May.110
The retreat from Hoa Binh was replete with lessons: some learned, some
unrecognized. Once again Giap had offered battle and had suffered tremen-
dous losses.111 The French strategic dilemma, however, remained in full effect.
Large-scale offensive action compromised the security of the delta, technically
the TFEO’s first responsibility. On the other hand, to confine itself to the delta
meant ceding the initiative and territory to Giap’s forces elsewhere. Nor could
Salan countenance the abandonment of Laos, an option that would have dra-
matically simplified his problem. Salan’s own proclivities made this as unlikely
as did the French government’s insistence on the importance of the system of
Associated States, the revamped legal rubric for France to maintain her south-
east Asian empire under slightly more liberal auspices.112 If France simply aban-
doned Laos, the viability of the system would be irrevocably damaged. Not that
he needed the prodding, but in April 1953 Prime Minister René Mayer went so
far as to inform Salan that he should defend the Associated States (meaning
Laos) even at the risk of losing an “important part” of the army.113
Battle was the only way to save the situation and Giap was more than happy
to oblige. This course, however, carried with it a further paradox. France’s colo-
nial war in Indochina elicited little interest among common Frenchmen, who
had other concerns, mostly economic. And casualties, while often quite heavy,
were born by France’s professional army, her military elite and their colonial
troops. Bernard Fall once noted that Indochina took the lives of twenty sons of
French marshals and general officers—but cost no conscripts.114 With American
money and equipment paying for much of the effort, the war could easily go
on unnoticed by the public. The grimy, plodding work of pacification produces
few headlines. Battle, however, constrained in time and space and predisposed
to dramatic retelling, draws attention; it raises the stakes. Giap could risk such
things. Party orthodoxy and Communist doctrine in the main kept the Viet
Minh in line. It was otherwise for France.115
A French decrypt of late 1952 revealed to Salan that Giap planned to over-
run the entirety of Indochina—Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam all the way down
to the Mekong—in the coming season.116 Sources revealed that the offensive
would unfold in the area of Nghia Lo, the doorway to Tai country. Salan placed
the region on alert. On 16 October 1952, northwest of Nghia Lo at Tú Lệ, Salan
dropped in the 6th BPC (Bataillon de parachutistes coloniaux) with orders to
refuse major combat and, in the event of major attack, to fall back to stronger
positions south, covering the retreat of the many scattered posts in the area. It
was a supremely difficult task.
The speed of Giap’s offensive caught Salan by surprise. Nghia Lo fell in
mid-October 1952, much more quickly than Salan thought, but the fight in the
hill country was one he wanted, or at least one he would not avoid. Some com-
mentators have seen Salan’s conduct of this winter-spring campaign as wholly
reactive, with troop detachments scattered about between the lines of the Red
and Black Rivers, a sure sign of strategic irresolution. On the other side, Giap
comes across as a master of his craft. Advancing in three prongs, Giap was not
only operationally flexible, but strategically keen in “enticing the French into
distant and difficult areas.”117 With the fall of Nghia Lo, Salan set about the evac-
uation of the hills southwest of the Red River back to the line of forts beyond
the Black. This apparent retreat sent Paris reeling—and politicians dipping into
the details of military operations. A telegram from the government criticized
Salan for the extended linear disposition of his forces along the Black River. As
so many times before, any withdrawal seemed to betoken further retreats. The
ministers feared the loss of the entire Tai country and perhaps another ensuing
governmental crisis.118
But Salan was not without his skill in the uplands. By 1952 he had spent a
great deal of his career in the Far East, much of it in the mountains.119 He had
served there as a captain for several years. He was adept at the byzantine poli-
tics of the various tribal confederations, using them to good effect. Under his
command the Groupement de commandos mixtes aéroportés (GCMA), the
organization that managed the maquis of Indochina, flourished as never before,
especially in the tribal areas of the northwest.120 In May of 1952, for example,
the maquis’s seizure of Lao Cai necessitated the intervention of a Chinese divi-
sion to calm the upheaval on the border. Hoping thus to replicate for the Viet
Minh the security nightmare their guerrillas created in the delta, the maquis
accomplished a great deal, though French belief in their efficacy was born more
of Resistance lore than from an unvarnished strategic appraisal.121 This rela-
tionship was further cemented with the Méo tribe, a critical group providing
recruits for the GCMA, by guaranteeing the transport of their opium crop to its
market in Cho Lon.122
If Giap had “enticed” Salan, Salan had also drawn Giap into a thorny logis-
tical puzzle. The country Giap invaded was roused in opposition. The Viet
Minh would find no friendly porters there, a provision they could count on
among the lowlanders. The 1952/1953 campaign certainly stretched the French
air transport arm, but it also forced Giap to impress an army of coolies into
service in the mountains. The magnificent rearguard action of the 6th BPC,
for days believed lost, slowed Giap’s units and added to the already consider-
able legend of the paras and their chief, Marcel Bigeard, a man so adept at tac-
tical operations one would think him the Spartan king, Agesilaus, returned in
Gallic form.123
Salan’s disposition was, in fact, far less linear than it appeared. After Giap’s
offensive reached the line of the Black River, Salan began a process of pulling
his disparate units back to the two centers of Lai Chau and Nà Sản. At this point
the Viet Minh offensive stalled for want of supplies. In the meantime, the com-
mander-in-chief unveiled the second aspect of his campaign of logistical attri-
tion, Operation Lorraine, beginning on 28 October 1952.
Like so many earlier French operations, Lorraine was no doubt a specta-
cle to behold. Paratroop drops were timed with armored thrusts supported by
sorties of the famed dinassauts. According to Salan the maneuver, which leapt
north along the course of the Red River, was meant as a diversion aimed at the
important Viet Minh supply base at Yen Bai.124 Some have argued that Lorraine
was meant to cripple the Viet Minh logistical system, to force Giap to call off
his Black River campaign. The scale of Lorraine (nearly 30,000 troops involved)
would lend credibility to that claim.125 Nevertheless, Salan had not staked all
on its success. As it was, Lorraine was not a complete failure. Giap did not call
off his Black River campaign, but in truth his logistical system was already in
shambles. Lorraine exacerbated this problem. Though the French did not take
Yen Bai, Salan’s thrust did succeed in capturing several new Molotova trucks
and, more significantly, forty tons of mortar shells and 35,000 grenades.126 These
items would be sorely missed when Giap’s 308th “Iron” Division attempted to
storm the developing fortress at Na San.
The phased withdrawal of units along with selected attacks in Operation

Lorraine had set the Viet Minh back. It was not until the end of November that
Giap could close his forces around Na San; in other words, it took nearly five
weeks to cover the seventy-odd kilometers from Nghia Lo. There Salan elected
to give battle on terrain to his liking.127 The delay had afforded Salan the chance
to reinforce and build up the defenses of Na San into a base aéroterrestre. This
was a concept that had evolved over time from the “mooring point” notion along
RC 4. A principal feature of this concept was that the base would be resupplied
completely by air, forgoing the costly need to maintain an open ground line of
communication back to Hanoi that had so bedeviled the Hoa Binh campaign.128
At this juncture Giap could also not afford to go around Na San and still pose a
credible threat to Laos. Na San possessed an all-season accessible airstrip (two in
fact) and sat astride Route Provinciale 41, the only road that could provide com-
munication along Giap’s distended front. Lastly, the late-season rice around Na
San would be necessary for Giap’s legions if they wanted to continue onward.129
Na San, held by 12,000 crack troops, fell under Viet Minh attack on 23
November. Colonel Jean Gilles had assiduously prepared the defense. Company
strong points ringed the position within supporting distance of one another;
in critical sectors where the enemy could bring the airstrips under fire, Gilles
posted entire battalions. Unlike the later French base at Dien Bien Phu, at Na
San the interior of the position, including the airstrips and artillery positions,
was not dominated by enemy-controlled high ground. The nature of the ter-
rain also forced Giap’s men to ascend to the attack in snaking columns easily
savaged by the fire of the Compagnie de mortiers lourds de la Légion étrangère
(Foreign Legion Heavy Mortar Company), specially created for the battle.130 To
attack such a place required determination that would give even the staunch-
est colonialist pause. Finally, with only a forty-minute flight from Hanoi to Na
San, the armée de l’air was able to keep Na San supplied even during the heavi-
est days of the battle in late November and early December. The operation,
however, closer in range and with fewer men to support than at Dien Bien Phu,
had taxed the air arm beyond its limit.131 For Giap the battle cost him more than
3,000 dead and wounded. As before, the defensive victory, while satisfying for
Salan, offered no chance for exploitation. Giap began withdrawing the majority
of his forces for use elsewhere by the end of the first week of December.132 Still
intent on seizing Laos, he sent strong detachments around Na San to push the
French from Sam Neua before the rains brought the campaign season to a close.
The French would evacuate Na San in August of 1953; only three months later
they dropped into Dien Bien Phu.
The campaign leading up to Na San gave some cause for guarded opti-
mism, but the basic strategic calculus remained unchanged. The removal of so
many Viet Minh regulars had allowed pacification to move forward, if some-
what absentmindedly, in the Red River delta. Annam remained under threat
but secure. In Cochinchina security was such that the core provinces were
turned over to the Vietnamese.133 The construction of the Vietnamese National
Army (VNA), given new impetus by de Lattre, had continued apace, reaching
a strength of 131,000 men by June 1952. Most of these troops, however, were
employed in static roles. Of the forty-four battalions in the VNA only fourteen
could realistically be used as troupes d’intervention. In fact, over the course of
1952 the quantity of French replacements dipped seriously due to other com-
mitments in Europe and Africa. With cadres lacking, the overall quality of
Franco-Vietnamese units declined, leaving a narrow band of elite troops to
carry an increasingly heavy load.134
Stuck in a seemingly perpetual war but unwilling to appeal to the United
Nations for help in an “internal” matter, the French government in spring 1953
wished nevertheless to shake things up. Prime Minister René Mayer had had his
fill of the clique of Asia-minded officers like Salan. In April of 1953 he replaced
the “mandarin” with Henri Navarre, an intelligence specialist and a complete
newcomer to Indochina.135
Navarre arrived in Indochina in time to witness most of the senior staff
departing.136 He was also operating with a dearth of information from the gov-
ernment, despite repeated requests for clarification. A meeting of the Comité
de la Défense nationale on 24 July 1953 had decided very little. The question of
serious reinforcements remained unanswered, as did the question of whether
Navarre was required to hold Laos. Still, Navarre was enjoined to not aban-
don any further territory because of the potential for negative political con-
sequences. He was also told that some quick offensives were needed, probably
to stave off American criticism of what was perceived to be the dithering
French conduct of the war. The ambiguous government direction of the war
did not match up well with Navarre’s plan for its prosecution. He hoped to
spend the remainder of 1953 and 1954 cementing French control over Annam
and Cochinchina, while remaining largely on the defensive in Tonkin. During
this time, newly forming Vietnamese units would take over security duties in
most places, allowing Navarre to gather his French regular forces into a power-
ful corps de bataille in the north. In 1955 Navarre would attempt to seek out and
destroy the Viet Minh in Tonkin.137
From the start the plan foundered. Navarre’s scheme required that he
privilege the center and south over the north, at least initially, but he was not
allowed to give up territory. It also required him to forgo unnecessary offen-
sive operations that would burn up men and supplies before the great offen-
sives of 1955. And yet the top American advisor in Indochina, Lt. Gen. John
O’Daniel, demanded immediate French action as a sign of good faith for the
massive financial aid the U.S. government had pledged to the war.138 Operation
Hirondelle, launched against Lang Son in July, destroyed a depot of Viet Minh
war stocks and served to convince Navarre’s American paymasters of his con-
tinued offensive potential.139 What it really accomplished was to wear out equip-
ment and prevent the accumulation of significant reserves. Navarre’s situation
was symbolic of the whole course of the Indochina war. His strategic disposi-
tion was at odds with the composition and assumed role of his forces. The sub-
sequent confusion cast Navarre back into familiar patterns.
Giap also had his vote. Disabused of any notion of an easy victory in the
delta, Giap opted to descend on Laos again. Unless he could abandon that
country, Navarre’s plan was stillborn. He still had no specific instructions in
this regard, though on a visit to Indochina in early November 1953, Secretary
of State Marc Jacquet informed Navarre that the fall of Luang Prabang would
be devastating for France. If Navarre felt compelled to hold Laos, it is not hard
to see why.140
In his memoirs Navarre describes the occupation of Dien Bien Phu as the
“only possible” solution to his strategic dilemma. This is not an after-the-fact
justification for a poor decision; it is a quite correct assessment of his situation
at the time. Without sufficient mobile troops (and their supply) to launch deci-
sive operations from the delta and lacking a clear mandate to abandon Laos,
Navarre had to offer battle before Giap could overrun Laos. Dien Bien Phu
offered the only chance—and a poor one at that—to do so.141
On 20 November 1953 French airborne troops descended on Dien Bien
Phu.142 Work on the fortifications began immediately. The establishment of a
camp retranché à la Na San once again raised the stakes. A steady stream of
high-profile visitors poured in to inspect the defensive works and give their
tacit approval.143 With the flower of the French army digging in for the long
haul, the drama increased. French national will to continue the war came to
crystallize around Dien Bien Phu and hung on its outcome.144 Of course, by
almost imperceptible steps, the goal of French policy had now shifted. The pur-
pose of the battle was no longer to defeat the Viet Minh in toto, it was to con-
vince them that no solution could be reached by force of arms and so allow
France an “honorable exit” from Indochina.
It is not necessary to recount again the battle of Dien Bien Phu; the well of
that literature bubbles to overflowing.145 Instead we turn to northern Annam, to
what is now the province of Quảng Bình, to examine in microcosm what might
have been had France constrained her effort and constrained ends to fit means.
There on 18 March 1954, four days after the initial Viet Minh assaults on Dien
Bien Phu, the post of Kha Ly found itself completely surrounded by two regular
0 65 130
China Miles
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Map by William
Keegan.
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Laos RC 5
Ha Noi
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North Vietnam
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Gulf
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South
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battalions of the 320th Division. The 3rd Company of the 53rd Battalion of the
Vietnamese National Army held Kha Ly, with Lieutenant Nguyen Am in com-
mand. Including twenty militia, his force came to around one hundred men.
The Viet Minh quickly drew the noose tight. Resupply could only be accom-
plished by airdrop.
On the night of 2 April, Kha Ly came under attack. A blockhouse detached
from the main fort was destroyed after five hours of fighting; ten men lay bur-
ied in the rubble. The Viet Minh sapped their trenches closer to the post. In
the deepest portion of the night, the Viet Minh launched their main assault.
A wave of attackers carried the wall and came crashing into the post itself. The
Communists now occupied two-thirds of Kha Ly. Lieutenant Am called for an
artillery barrage on his position. At four in the morning a Dakota swung low
and dropped a flare, momentarily giving enough light for Am’s men to pour a
murderous, if brief, fire into the Viet Minh ranks. At this point Am guided in
two fighter-bombers and directed them to drop napalm on the enemy-held
side of the fort. While the Viet Minh burned, Am ordered a counterattack.
Unnerved, most of the Viet Minh fled; Am’s men killed the rest. When the sun
came up, the haggard defenders pulled one hundred Viet Minh corpses from
their base. Two hundred more had died in the wire.146 If the verdict of history
was against Lieutenant Am and his men, they did not know it.
General Christian de Castries surrendered Dien Bien Phu on 7 May
1954. The reaction by the French press and the government was, as Philippe
Devillers and Jean Lacouture put it, “amplified out of all proportion.”147 The
military situation was surely degraded, but the position in Tonkin was far from
destroyed. The loss of more than sixteen battalions at Dien Bien Phu—most of
which were of the highest quality—was a tremendous blow and yet represented
only 3.3 percent of the French and Associated States forces.148 Reinforcements
were on the way. It did not matter. To opt for decisive battle not only circum-
scribes violence temporally and spatially, it has a way of reifying psychology.
The French will to continue the war broke along with de Castries’s position at
Dien Bien Phu.
The fight for Tonkin would end soon after. The war in Cochinchina con-
tinued for another twenty-odd years. Things had gone rather differently in
the south.
ch a p ter 2
A “Land for Heroes”

Cochinchinese Land and People
H oàng, the first of the Nguyễn marcher lords to assert his separation from
the northern Trịnh faction and to independently rule what would even-
tually become South Vietnam, wrote to his son in 1613 at the end of a remark-
able life. He described his southern domains, with mountains full of riches and
oceans teeming with fish. It was a place of opportunity where he and his suc-
cessors could live independently, resist the Trinh, and establish their legacy.
“Truly,” he said, “this is a favorable land for heroes.”1
The south was a remarkable place qua direction, one that changed and
moved along with the Vietnamese as they made their way down the coastline
until they finally came to inhabit what became known as Nam Kỳ, or as the
French knew it, Cochinchina. This was the frontier of Vietnamese existence.
There was more room for self, civil government was weak, and tradition rested
upon people with a lighter touch. By the time of Nguyen Hoang’s death, the dif-
ference between north and south congealed in Vietnamese collective psychol-
ogy. The south was the land of plenty and freedom in contrast to hardscrabble
northern rigidity.2 Cochinchina was indeed fruitful and in time this fecundity
attracted not only Vietnamese settlers but also the French Empire by the mid-
dle years of the nineteenth century.3
The far south of Vietnam was the pride of French colonialism in East Asia,
the area most shaped by Western influence. Cochinchina, where an already
weak mandarinate dissolved under French pressure, had been a French colony
dating back to the Saigon Treaty of 1862.4 Instead of opting for their standard
indirect rule as elsewhere in Indochina, the French imposed a comparatively
thorough colonial administration in Cochinchina.5 The ability of the French to
reach so deeply into Cochinchinese life came about because Cochinchina was
still very much a frontier area. The so-called nam tiến (southern advance) of
Vietnamese peoples had only recently displaced the native Khmer-speakers of
the Mekong Delta. Indeed, until the early nineteenth century most Vietnamese
of the western portions of Cochinchina had to speak Khmer as well as
Vietnamese in order to get along. It was a “pioneer” society, suggests Hue-Tam
45
Ho Tai, composed of those seeking available land and escaping political repres-
sion, combined with a fair smattering of outright criminals.6 Borrowing from
Michael Redclift’s notion of frontiers, Cochinchina was a “constantly refash-
ioned space, ideologically and culturally as much as geographically.”7 As
important as the new economic modalities Cochinchina afforded Vietnamese
settlement was the “social closure that it avoided.”8 Almost entirely lacking in
government oversight before the French arrival, Cochinchina was rife with
heterodox religious/philosophical practices. The region was a rather late addi-
tion to the Vietnamese cultural patrimony. Even this union was less a historical
necessity than a product of a “series of political and military accidents” dating
to no earlier than the nineteenth century.9
Confucianism, strong in Tonkin and in Annam, held little sway over life in
the south. The typically Confucian four-fold division of society into scholars,
peasants, artisans, and traders was replaced in the popular mind by a simpler
division of workers (farmers, merchants, etc.) and non-workers (bureaucrats,
entertainers, etc.). Furthermore, the ready availability of land made rigid eco-
nomic or social relationships unnecessary and easily flouted—if a farmer did
not like his situation, he could just move farther west. Similarly, highly formal-
ized institutional Buddhism, with an emphasis on monasticism and sponsored
by the Imperial court, elicited little interest in the Cochinchinese countryside.
In fact, for most of Cochinchina’s history monastic Buddhism played no sig-
nificant part in Cochinchinese religious life. Instead, frugal and austere forms
of Theravada Buddhism flourished, creating endless factions and consistently
undermining central authority. The Cochinchinese peasantry mixed this phi-
losophy freely with Confucian ideas and Taoist principles in nearly as many
mélanges of belief as there were people.10
Amid the welter of philosophical notions that interpenetrated the
Cochinchinese psyche, three main religio-political movements predominated:
the Hoa Hao, the Cao Dai, and the Binh Xuyen, proceeding from west to east
in influence. Historically called the “sects,” more recent scholarship has opted
for the term “organizations” to avoid the stigma of the former label.11 For the
sake of simplicity, we will stay with the original appellation. In either case, these
groups constituted the main power brokers in Cochinchina until the forcible
suppression of their military power by the Diem government in 1955.12
Dealing with the sects would prove a thorny issue for both the French and
the Communists, and would come to condition how the war in Cochinchina
developed. Indeed, nationalist and anticolonialist sentiment in Cochinchina
was to a great extent filtered first through the lens of the sects. Of course,
Western observers in the main found the sects to be entirely antimodern, an
invidious feudal influence, and utterly “anachronistic” in their outlook.13
cochinchinese land and people 47
Loc Ninh
Zone East
Zone
Center
Tay Ninh
Ben Cat
Thu Dau Mot Bien Hoa

Xuan Loc
Hoc Mon
Sai Gon
Chau Doc Duc Hoa
Soc Trang Cho Lon
Tan An
Ha Tien Go Cong
Long Xuyen My Tho Cap Saint-Jacques
Sa Dec Ben Tre
Vinh Long
Can Tho
Rach Gia
Tra Vinh SOUTH
CHINA
SEA
Zone West
Bac Lieu
Sects of Cochinchina
Ca Mau
Binh Xuyen
Cao Dai
Hoa Hao
U Minh Forest
Zones
0 40 80
Miles
Sects of Cochinchina. Map by William Keegan. Adapted from Tertrais, Atlas des Guerres
d’Indochine, 1940–1990, 27. Copyright © 2018 by the University of Oklahoma Press.
In the western portion of Cochinchina (Miền Tây) the Hoa Hao were
dominant. Founded in 1939 by a sickly youth named Huỳnh Phú Sổ, the
Hoa Hao religion adapted many of its tenets from a much older branch of
Theravada Buddhism now known as Bửu Sơn Kỳ Hương (Strange Fragrance
from the Precious Mountain), a belief set first propagated by the Buddha
Master of Western Peace following a lethal cholera outbreak in 1849.14 Later
Hoa Hao followers wore amulets inscribed with these four esoteric and now
sacred words. Buu Son Ky Huong adepts, followers of a millenarian religion,
believed that the end of the world was nigh and that the Maitreya (a messianic
Buddha) would descend soon into the mountains near Chau Doc to purge the
world of wickedness.15
Dubbed the “mad monk” by the French, So claimed he was at once a mes-
senger of the Jade Buddha and the reincarnation of the Western Master him-
self. He was also a formidable faith healer who attracted substantial crowds. In
great open-air events he won mass converts with his homespun oratory, sharp
wit, and a “burning” stare that those who met him did not soon forget.16 So
powerful was So’s presence that in 1940, when French officials had him com-
mitted for a psychiatric evaluation at Cho Quan Hospital in Cho Lon, he suc-
ceeded in converting a number of hospital wardens to his religion as well as the
Vietnamese physician who examined him.17
Emotionally forceful rather than intellectually consistent, So preached
an uplifting message for the peasantry. He extolled frugality and hard work
within a decidedly lay context. So vilified the traditional Buddhist clergy as
good-for-nothing spendthrifts whose lavish rituals impoverished the peasant
and did nothing to elevate the spirit. He likewise decried urbanization, capi-
talism, and Communism as foreign influences, detrimental to simple agrarian
living. So’s peasant faith spread rapidly in the rural west, eventually granting
to the Hoa Hao near-monopolistic control over most of the prime rice-grow-
ing regions along the Bassac River. Their capital was the important agricultural
hub of Cần Thơ.18
It was in Can Tho that So won several of his most important converts.
There was Nguyễn Giác Ngộ, a police officer and ardent believer, later to
become a significant leader of one of the Hoa Hao factions. Next was Lâm
Thành Nguyên, who was jailed by the French but was released in the wake of
the Japanese coup. He later rose to prominence within the Hoa Hao military.
Last, but certainly not least, was Trần Văn Soái. A former mechanic and owner
of a bus line, Soai was known for his violent temper and adopted the name Năm
Lửa (Five Fires) as an appropriate sobriquet. Soai joined the Hoa Hao after
being seriously injured in a brawl; he would eventually rise to command the
Hoa Hao military. His principal aid in the beginning was Lê Quang Vinh, better
known as Ba Cụt (third finger cut). Reflecting the peasant origins of most of the
Hoa Hao, Ba Cut despised the landlord class and had cut down one of his index
fingers in front of his troops as a sign of his ferocity.19 Soai’s wife, Li Thi Ngam,
a powerful personality in her own right, took over the management of his bus
company after he joined the sect and became the Hoa Hao’s chief fundraiser
and financial manager.20 She wore the uniform of a general and raised a corps
of all-female soldiers. Dressed in black, they carried all manner of instruments

for “cutting into flesh.” Ngam assured visitors that her soldiers were fierce kill-
ers and absolutely virginal.21
The Hoa Hao took advantage of the Japanese presence in Vietnam even
before the 9 March 1945 coup. In 1943 the sect began forming armed groups; in
1944 they began rudimentary military training, perhaps with Japanese assis-
tance. At the start of the French war the Hoa Hao military establishment fea-
tured seven “brigades” each numbering fewer than five hundred men, akin to
a Western battalion in strength. Tran Van Soai held four under his personal
sway near Can Tho; Lam Thanh Nguyen commanded two more in Chau Doc
and in Long Xuyen. The last unit was also in Long Xuyen but not beholden
directly to Lam.22
As World War II ground on the Japanese became increasingly interested
in maintaining an uninterrupted flow of rice out of western Cochinchina for
shipment back to their resource and labor-starved homeland. They therefore
sought accommodation with the Hoa Hao as the group best able to assure this,
even though Huynh Phu So’s distrust of all alien elements led him to try and
prevent rice from reaching the Japanese in acceptable quantities. Advised by
Trotskyists, So also began organizing the sect politically for the first time during
this period, imposing rules for admission, establishing administrative cells at
various levels, and antagonizing the mainline Viet Minh Communists. As with
the Japanese, So distrusted the Viet Minh as interlopers, agents of foreign ide-
ologies. He therefore tried to forestall the sale of rice in 1945 to their represen-
tatives, who desperately needed it to alleviate the famine gripping Tonkin. So’s
obfuscation embittered Hoa Hao–Communist relations from then on, a state
of affairs only briefly papered over by lukewarm declarations of national unity.
Whatever their status, however, the Hoa Hao could not be ignored. Perhaps a
million strong in 1944, they were the second most powerful group in the south
at the start of the First Indochina War.23
The preeminent religio-political group was the Cao Dai or “Third Manifes-
tation of God in the East.” It was, and is, a highly syncretic religion native to
Cochinchina.24 It is a curious, sometimes paradoxical, blend of Eastern mysti-
cism and Western metaphysics, an admixture of the many influences to which
Cochinchina has been subject over the centuries. At its headquarters in Tay Ninh
one can see the Cao Dai main temple complete with the floor plan of a Euro-
pean cathedral and the décor of a Buddhist pagoda. Though rigidly hierarchical
after the fashion of the Catholic Church, it was nevertheless prone to intense fac-
tionalism. Intended to transcend all religious and ethnic distinctions, it could be
intensely parochial and highly contumacious. Its practitioners self-consciously
coupled a commitment to spiritual elevation and vegetarianism, for instance,
with terrific violence and a penchant for intrigue. In contrast to the Hoa Hao
and their explicitly agrarian and backward-looking philosophy, the Cao Dai
considered themselves a bridge between tradition and modernity. Urban and
urbane, comfortable with capitalism, the Cao Dai were accepting of Western
ideas, but fiercely nationalistic after their particular fashion. Over the course of
the wars they would come to vex both allies and enemies on many occasions.
The term Cao Dai itself means high place, a reference to the “elevated
throne” from which the chief spirit rules the cosmos. It is also the abbrevi-
ated title for the deity himself, Cao Đài Tiên Ông Đại Bồ Tát Ma Ha Tát (“High
palace, immortal, his honor the oldest Bodhisattva, the venerable saint.”)25 A
functionary of the colonial government named Ngô Văn Chiêu, subsequently
Ngô Minh Chiêu, founded the religion in 1926. Chieu had attended French-
run schools and passed the civil-service exam in 1917. To seek help for his sickly
mother, Chieu began to attend séances in 1902. At one such event in 1920,
Chieu reported being confronted by the spirit of Cao Dai. Apparently work-
ing through Chieu, Cao Dai began laying down the tenets of a new religion
that Chieu shared with his intimates and a growing circle of converts, most of
whom could be found working in various administrative offices in Saigon.26 In
proper bureaucratic fashion they applied to the French for recognition of their
religion in 1926.27
The faith preached an end to religious controversy. Cao Daism was to be
the “great way,” the final revelation of God to unite humanity, though it has
hardly found any reach beyond southern Vietnam. The Cao Dai contend that
god had in prior epochs communicated with man in constrained, culturally
bounded ways, offering at best a partial picture of religious truth. These “five
branches” of human religious experience would be gathered together in Cao
Daism to form a single, renovated humanity walking now with the full knowl-
edge of the divine agenda.28
The goal of the Cao Dai follower is to achieve spiritual elevation and
thereby escape the otherwise endless cycle of reincarnation. The eclectic pan-
theon of high spirits—for example, Descartes, Joan of Arc, Louis Pasteur,
Shakespeare, Sun Yat Sen, Mencius, and so forth—is crucial to this, for they
have already achieved that manner of karmic transcendence and so can aid in
the process for those still mired in physical existence. Communion with these
spirits is by divination, famously accomplished with the corbeille à bec, a long
writing instrument carved into the shape of a phoenix or dragon.29 The adept
must also strenuously avoid the five evils (killing, lying, opulent living, sensual-
ity, and stealing) and follow a daily regimen of praying before the family shrine.
Vegetarianism is seen as helpful to purification and is compulsory for the Cao
Dai hierarchy.30
Unlike the Hoa Hao with their aversion to structure, the Cao Dai were rig-
orously organized. Cochinchina was divided into two large regions that in turn
were subdivided into five large provincial units (each comprising more than
one governmentally recognized province), then districts followed by villages,
hamlets, and finally familial units. Superintending this network is a highly
articulated body of clergy modeled quite clearly after the ecclesiastical struc-
ture of the Roman Catholic Church. There are all manner of cardinals, bishops,
archbishops, priests, and student priests, amounting to nine levels of adminis-
tration.31 The main administration and religious center of the Cao Dai faith is
its holy city of Tay Ninh. The religion occupied Tay Ninh as its headquarters in
1927 probably due to its remoteness from Saigon and its ready accessibility to
Cambodia. Here operated the two main bodies of the Cao Dai organization.32
The first is the “sacerdotal corps” or the administrative branch to which
most of the Cao Dai clergy belonged. At its head is the Giáo Tông, usually trans-
lated as “pope.” After the death of Lê Văn Trung in 1934, however, this post
remained unfilled due to disagreements about who should assume the posi-
tion.33 De facto leadership instead passed to Phạm Công Tắc, the head (Hộ
Pháp) of the branch of spiritual legislators or mediums responsible for ensuring
the various gradations of priests performed their tasks to standard.34 A member
from nearly the beginning, Pham Cong Tac was a shrewd operator and expert
organizer. He had established his corps of mediums as a counterweight to the
power of Le Van Trung and was quick to seize authority after the latter’s demise.
Most of the organizational strength of Cao Daism dates to his “pontificate.”
Under Pham Cong Tac’s direction, the Cao Dai also became a font of
nationalist propaganda directed against French rule. They became active sup-
porters of the Japanese during the war and rallied around the idea of bringing
one of the Nguyen dynasty’s princes, Cường Để, back to Vietnam to assume the
throne from his exile in Japan.35 Tac’s activities were obviously regarded with
extreme suspicion by the colonial authorities. In 1940 the French closed the
main Cao Dai temple at Tay Ninh and in 1941 Tac and several of his chief sup-
porters were exiled to Madagascar. They would not return until August 1946.
This setback did not eliminate the Cao Dai, as the Japanese occupation of
Indochina gave them a new lease on life. In 1943 the former chief of the Cao
Dai mission to Cambodia, Trần Quang Vinh, reestablished a group in Saigon
with the help and protection of the Kempetai, the Japanese secret police. When
the French attempted to arrest Vinh, the Japanese declared him a “civil attaché”
exempt from incarceration. At this stage Tran Quang Vinh was able to begin
forming armed paramilitary bands, totaling about 3,000 men by the time of the
Japanese coup, an event with which the Cao Dai assisted. At the time of the Viet
Minh seizure of power, several other Cao Dai leaders in Tay Ninh, most notably
Nguyễn Văn Thanh, began forming additional militias of a more regular estab-
lishment. These units, separated from Tran Quang Vinh’s forces, were obliged
to make common cause with the Viet Minh at the start of the war.36 Around Tay
Ninh itself the Cao Dai fielded chi đội (sub groups) 7 and 8.37 They would fight
the returning French through the beginning of 1946.
The last major strain of marbling running throughout power politics in
Cochinchina was the Bình Xuyên. Not a religious sect like the others, the Binh
Xuyen was a criminal enterprise that came to monopolize all manner of vice
around Saigon. It was nevertheless a gang with a firm code of honor, fused in
a blood oath, and further strengthened by the quasi-mystical rites of Chinese
boxing practiced by its membership. Though its origins are cloudy, it seems
the organization—vaguely related to the Chinese Heaven and Earth societies—
was formed sometime in the early 1920s by criminals who sought refuge in the
marshy area south of Cho Lon, a region in close proximity to Saigon, and yet
beyond easy reach of the authorities. This area was called the Binh Xuyen orig-
inally and lent its appellation to the organization. From there the enterprise
spread. They took up residence in the luxuriant and quite nearly impenetrable
Rừng Sác mangrove forest that dominates the mouths of a number of the east-
ern rivers. In this outpost of lawlessness, several hundred men coalesced around
a handful of bosses and began extorting money from merchants attempting
to transport their wares down the rivers. Over time they extended their fran-
chise, gaining control over most organized illicit activity: the incredibly lucra-
tive opium trade; prostitution at the world-famous Hall of Mirrors, gambling at
the Grand Monde casino, and other vices.38
At the time of the French return the Binh Xuyen chief was one Ba Dương.
However, even before his death in February 1946, the leader of the Binh Xuyen
and the main actor within Saigon was Lê Văn Viễn, better known as Bảy Viễn.
A large, heavily muscled individual, covered in the tattoos typical of a Binh
Xuyen boss, Bay Vien had spent a fair share of his youth in the French jails.
There he established a reputation for toughness and came into contact with
many strains of burgeoning Vietnamese nationalism, both Communist and
otherwise. Like most Binh Xuyen he was fiercely independent, resenting all
attempts at control and harboring an enmity toward the French colonial gov-
ernment as well as the dictatorial tendency within the main line of Communist
thought. Bay Vien himself also maintained a healthy suspicion of the Japanese,
unlike many other Vietnamese nationalists, and kept his distance from them
during their occupation. After Ba Duong’s death by French strafing, Bay Vien
was elected overall head of the Binh Xuyen.39
During the brief stint of open Viet Minh power in Saigon, Tran Van Giau
was compelled to turn to Bay Vien for armed strength. The Viet Minh’s street
power was limited to the Vanguard Youth with its head, Lai Văn Sang. Though
numerous, these students lacked leadership and arms. At Tran Van Giau’s sug-
gestion, Bay Vien’s heavily armed and street-savvy Binh Xuyen were set as cadre
over the Vanguard Youth, about 2,000 strong at the beginning.40 From this
pairing the Binh Xuyen built an initial military establishment of roughly seven
battalions (chi doi 2, 3, 4, 7, 21, 25). Most of these units were withdrawn from
Saigon early in the war, either moving north or going south to the Rung Sac.
Remaining in the city itself were numerous “action committees” dedicated to
fundraising through extortion and practicing terrorism.41 Much of the early
action by the British and the French inside Saigon, therefore, was really against
these small cells and not the larger organizations of the movement.
There remains a final group within Cochinchina worthy of mention,
though their power at the war’s outset was almost nonexistent. As in Tonkin,
Cochinchina was home to a not inconsequential body of Vietnamese Catholics
centered mainly on Ben Tre and My Tho.42 Naturally, they were the object
of considerable suspicion from the Viet Minh due to their presumed attach-
ment to the French colonial system, often the most visible sign of which were
Catholic missionaries.43 They were therefore subject to sporadic violence as the
Viet Minh took over in the countryside. For instance, in My Tho province the
Viet Minh torched one entire Catholic village early in the war. Acts of violence
against Catholics persisted thereafter, though this was never official party pol-
icy.44 Nevertheless Catholics would form yet another group that the French
could potentially leverage into their camp.45
Certainly Cochinchina was a confused and confusing place, especially for
outsiders. There is a quality of incoherence to Cochinchinese society that is
reflected in, or perhaps reinforced by, the terrain itself. It is a realm of shift-
ing borders and coastlines. Much of the countryside is perennially flooded,
seemingly caught in indecision between land and sea. The French called it a
“quasi-aquatical kingdom” where all manner of life is amphibian. Innumerable
waterways cut through this region barely above sea level, meaning the sam-
pan was far more important than the truck for most of the region’s history.
Many island villages, perched throughout plains of mud, were only accessible
by water.
The predominant feature was and is the Cửu Long, or Nine Dragon River
and its delta, more generally known as the Mekong. It is the third longest river
in the world. Its delta covers an area of approximately 40,000 square kilometers
and annually deposits thirteen times more silt than its northern cousin, the Red
River. Indeed, such is the quantity of silt laid down that the delta pushes into the
ocean some sixty to eighty meters per year, further ramifying the strange dia-
lectic between earth and water.46
The delta occupies the central portion of Cochinchina. It forms the prin-
cipal rice-growing area of the region and splits the country into its three vesti-
gial divisions. Around the delta and reaching as far west as the Bassac River is
Miền Trung (central region). East of Saigon until one reaches the central pla-
teau of Annam is Miền Đông (eastern region). West of the Bassac extending
down into the Ca Mau peninsula is then Miền Tây (western region).47 Both the
French and the Viet Minh would follow this schema in organizing their efforts
for the war. The French by 1947 would establish three principal zones: Center,
East, and West roughly corresponding to the traditional geographical distinc-
tions. The Viet Minh did this as well, turning the three regions into Khu (zones)
VII, VIII, and IX proceeding from east to west.48
The Center region was the most important. A. M. Savani, the long-time
French intelligence chief in Saigon, called the riverine area from Vinh Long
over to My Tho, Saigon, Cho Lon, and abutting Bien Hoa in the east the “mus-
cled and enlarged heart” of Cochinchina through which the economic lifeblood
of agricultural commerce flowed.49 The area is composed of two great alluvial
plains. The first was laid down centuries ago before the deposition of silt so
blocked the course of the Mekong that the river had to turn southeast to find a
new outlet. This first “old delta” is now referred to as the Plain of Reeds, or Đồng
Tháp Mười. It is about 7,000 square kilometers in size; about three-quarters of
that lies within Vietnam. With no elevation gradient to speak of, the water that
settles there cannot adequately drain, and so it backs up into the Tonle Sap in
Cambodia. The remaining water is brackish and replete with sulfides. During
evaporation these sulfides oxidize, creating a quantity of sulfuric acid lethal
to most plant species. The clear exception comprises the reeds that cover the
plain and give it its name. It is bounded on the east by the Vàm Cỏ Dong River
(French: Vaico oriental) and on the west and south by the Vàm Cỏ Tây (Vaico
occidental). They flow together southeast of the Plain of Reeds and form an
area the French called the Intervaicos. It is that part of Cochinchina that buf-
fers the Cambodian Svay Rieng salient, the Parrot’s Beak as it was commonly
called. This area, situated at the far eastern edge of the plain, is the “indigo
jungle,” called by the French the place des giongs. It is an extensive, swampy
morass interspersed with small, habitable islands of terra firma (Vietnamese:
giongs) scantly rising above the interminable muck. Inundated and inhospi-
table, the Plain of Reeds, including its eastern extremity, has been a habitual
hideout for bandits.50 Especially during the initial phase of the war—before
1948—the Plain of Reeds would serve as the principal Viet Minh base area, the
“métropole rouge,” to once again quote Lucien Bodard.51 This entire zone was
crucial for the Viet Minh’s ability to facilitate communication between their
forces east and west of Saigon.
The “new delta” is far richer. The mouths of the Mekong formed the
first area of Vietnamese settlement in the south and the principal rice-grow-
ing region. Agriculture farther inland was only introduced in the later nine-
teenth century, the product of massive French efforts at canal building. These
canals greatly improved the country’s transportation network, allowing the
unhusked rice (paddy) of disparate regions easy access to the mills and mar-
kets of Saigon.52 More importantly, this increased draining opened large swaths
of land to rice farming. Land under cultivation more than quadrupled due to
French efforts; rice exports rose thirty-fold. Unlike in Tonkin where rice farm-
ing was a labor-intensive practice and had to be double-cropped to meet even
local demand, Cochinchinese production was less than half as arduous (sev-
enty man-days versus two hundred in Tonkin) and yielded, in a single crop,
enough for a healthy export market.53
Much of this rice production happened along the Bassac River, which
also demarcates Miền Trung from the western portion of the country, Miền
Tây. The principal town is Can Tho, an important entrepôt for rice headed east
for sale. The area immediately west of the town is a low-lying extension of the
Mekong delta scarcely rising two meters above sea level. A pervasive network of
canals and small streams of no discernable origin called rachs drain the entire
zone and make it suitable for rice farming.
Mien Tay extends west and south of this into the broad, even flatter—large
portions are actually sunken—Ca Mau peninsula. At the time of the war it had
the reputation of being remote and untamed. Bodard, ever the intrepid traveler,
referred to it as the “savage west,” referencing in particular the belief that cer-
tain groups native to the region practiced cannibalism.54 On the western shore
the silted soil is buffeted by the monsoons and the relentless tides, which alter
the coastline extensively year to year.
Only the lush mangrove forests that dominate the maritime provinces hold
the spongy land together. The mangrove tree itself is the perfect metaphor for
Mien Tay. It exists as a go-between uniting water and land; it is adapted to both
fresh and brackish water, and it gives repose to all manner of wildlife. The most
significant of the mangrove forests is the U Minh. It is dense and foreboding,
bounded on its east by a tremendous inundated zone of 80,000 hectares. The
forest itself is an important locale for fishing and hunting. During the rainy sea-
son (roughly May to October), it is mostly inundated and therefore inaccessi-
ble except to those accustomed to its tortuous pathways.55 The Viet Minh would
naturally use the area as another main base starting early in the war.56 It would
become even more important later on.
At the other end of Cochinchina is Mien Dong. Although also forested,
the region east of Saigon is better known for its red basaltic soils amenable to
varieties of more specialized agriculture. The French discovered this soon after
their arrival and by the beginning of the twentieth century turned much of
Mien Dong over to rubber production. These plantations, few in number but
massive in size, were run with the latest and greatest in technical advances by
powerful companies; Michelin is the most well-known. By 1930 these planta-
tions employed a workforce nearing 70,000, mostly contract laborers recruited
in Tonkin.57 Rubber growers preferred Tonkinese peasants as workers because
they were unable to run away easily if they found the terms of their service
unbearable. Of course, working conditions on the plantations were notoriously
atrocious.58 Most of the Viet Minh recruits serving in Mien Dong were drawn
from this pool of dispossessed northern workers.59
Taken together, the regions of Cochinchina would present formidable chal-
lenges for the returning French; and for both sides of the conflict, the war for
Cochinchina would be a trial of attitude and perspective. Though as a nation
France had considerable history in the area, few of the military commanders
who would come to Cochinchina had any firsthand experience in navigating
the topographical and societal intricacies that made the country so dynamic.
Cochinchina’s physiology, so to speak, defies control; it always has. The best
to be hoped for was to effectively cope with it—a far different matter. A con-
trolling mentality tries to dragoon all resources, personalities, and conditions
along a straight path to a well-defined victory condition. It is highly predictive
in nature and intolerant of deviation. Coping, by contrast, is the understand-
ing that human situations usually belie rigidity, and that managing expectations
and coaxing things along a generally favorable course may be the only produc-
tive way forward. Coping also more easily deals with the unexpected, bending
and adapting when faced with new circumstances. Control cannot yield, and
so oftentimes breaks. These concepts are obviously sympathetic to and inter-
twined with the notion of optimization and “satisficing” mentioned earlier and
to which we will return later. For now, it will suffice to mention that the early
years of the war would set the French and the Viet Minh on divergent courses
in this regard.60
ch a p ter 3
Traces de sang
The War for Cochinchina, 1945–1947
C hef d’Escadron Gerlotto, commander in the Tân An quarter, gathered

his forces in the first days of May 1947.1 He had a little less than a battal-
ion in his groupement, the bulk of which was two companies of hard-hitting
Algerians. Their mission was to mount an operation of nettoyage, or cleaning
out, northwest of Tan An along the Vàm Cỏ Tây river which the French called
the Vaico occidental. They were also meant to ferret out information about their
enemy; the Viet Minh hovered near to the heart of the provincial capital of Tan
An and yet remained frustratingly elusive. With a LCT (Landing Craft Tank)
and a pair of Higgins boats in support, as well as artillery and aerial recon-
naissance, Gerlotto’s men disembarked on 3 May at the mouth of a canal that
bypassed a large bend in the main river. Commandos and Algerians began their
sweep northward following the track of another smaller stream; each cleared
one side, while the other company of Algerians landed on the northern tip of a
nearby island and began their push south. At 0945 Gerlotto’s commandos fell
under fierce attack; the Viet Minh had waited until they were within fifty meters
before firing. The first fusillade brought down the unit’s lead machine-gunner
and two of its French cadre. The Algerians to their east turned to the sound of
gunfire, crossed the stream, and counterattacked. In that short time, however,
the Viet Minh had disappeared.
Gerlotto searched in vain for another five days. There were firefights to be
sure, none decisive. His men discovered a cache of documents, destroyed an arms
fabrication shop, and spent a great deal of time getting on and off boats, travers-
ing the river up and down stream. The Viet Minh meanwhile retired to the Plain
of Reeds, the impenetrable swamp at the center of Cochinchina. A local told the
French that they must have killed eighty Viet Minh and that the villagers had
been conscripted to remove the corpses. But there was little evidence of their
meager triumph—no arms found, no bodies recovered. There was only here and
there the maddening “traces de sang” leading off into the silent brush.2
By mid-1947 the way to victory in Cochinchina was by no means clear.
A half-hearted attempt at pacification in the west of the country in the spring
57
had produced poor results. To reconcile the ongoing problems in the south
the French command looked north. Taking much of the striking power from
the Troupes françaises de l’Indochine du Sud (TFIS), Valluy, the corps’ over-
all commander, pursued action elsewhere. Meanwhile, the war in Cochinchina
stalled. Only the rallying of the sects to the anti-Communist struggle—due
more to fear of the Viet Minh than to support for the French—gave some cause
for hope. It was a pitiable state for a war that had begun in an impressive, if
slipshod, fashion. Through the later portion of 1945 and into 1946 the French
had not only returned to Cochinchina and seized a foothold in Saigon, but
had also succeeded in breaking the Communist blockade of the city and even-
tually secured most of the other major urban centers as well. By 1947, how-
ever, the TFIS struggled to hold its own against the growing power of the Viet
Minh and could proffer no real way to come to grips with the pressing secu-
rity dilemma. At this point French strategy in Cochinchina turned away from
well-rutted techniques toward a restrained approach conditioned by profound
limitations. Achieving outright victory receded from view. Much to its conster-
nation the French military in Cochinchina had to learn to cope with a complex,
intractable situation by waiting, retreating, husbanding resources, and keeping
options open for the future.3
Learning that lesson was yet to come, though. On 9 March 1945 the
Japanese, who had occupied Vietnam in force in 1941 to forestall supplies headed
to Nationalist China, upended the lingering vestiges of Vichy French author-
ity in Indochina due to fear of an Allied invasion. In Tokyo in the early hours
of 10 March the U.S. Army Air Corps began the most intense firebombing of
the war and burned a massive hole into the center of the Imperial capital; in
the wake of such destruction, Japanese power in Indochina would prove a tran-
sitory affair.4 Nevertheless, French military positions were stormed, prison-
ers freed, soldiers jailed, and the all-pervasive French security apparatus, the
Sûreté, rendered powerless.5 The Viet Minh were quick to capitalize; focused
entirely on preparing for this potential Allied invasion, the Japanese had no time
to administer the country. Though a shaky National Front organization com-
posed of various nationalist factions attempted to form a government, the vet-
eran Stalinist leader Trần Văn Giàu stole a march on his rivals. Not only had he
managed to infiltrate his Communist cadres into the Vanguard Youth, a para-
military organization backed by the Japanese and the largest armed force in
Saigon apart from the Japanese, but he also convinced the Japanese governor in
Cochinchina to free all the Communists in the island prison of Poulo Condore
and ferry them back to Saigon, where he had already seized the Hôtel de Ville.
This act offered the appearance, if not the substance, of administrative control of
the country.6 The other nationalist factions—for example, the Hoa Hao, the Cao
the war for cochinchina, 1945–1947 59
Dai, the remaining Trotskyites, the Association of Intellectuals, and so forth—

assented to this fait accompli and backed the Viet Minh as a genuine expression
of national sentiment, though its core Communism was fully on display.
With Japanese power crumbling through the summer, this marriage of
convenience seemed safe enough in August 1945. Moreover, the Communists
themselves had few armed men, especially in comparison to the Cao Dai. If
they had so desired, the other nationalists could have, they assumed, easily
driven Tran Van Giau from power. A leader of the Cao Dai military, Trịnh Minh
Thế, even visited Giau shortly after his elevation and threatened to shoot him
between the eyes if he gave any thought to a double-cross. To counter this threat
and while waiting for reinforcements to arrive, Giau bought Binh Xuyen mus-
cle with an advance of 20,000 piastres and smooth talk of national heroism.7
But Vietnam’s fate was not left to the Vietnamese, nor to the French. At the
Potsdam Conference the “Big Three” powers—France was not among them—
decided that Britain and China would divide up responsibility for the Japanese
surrender in Vietnam and in overseeing the period of transition. The Chinese
nationalists would occupy the north of the country, while the British 20th
Indian Division under Major General Sir Douglas Gracey would occupy the
south. If the French wanted to return to Indochina, it would be under the aus-
pices of a foreign power.
Indeed, Charles de Gaulle’s Free French had resolved to do exactly that as
early as 1943 when they created the Corps léger d’intervention (CLI). This unit,
composed largely of nascent commando groups, was intended to conduct gue-
rilla operations within Indochina and assist the French return.8 By April 1945 the
British chiefs of staff had agreed to transport French forces back to Indochina,
though it would be done as transport became available and in rather piecemeal
fashion.9 The CLI, now re-flagged as the 5th Regiment d’infanterie coloniale
(5th RIC) to avoid confusion with the Ceylon Light Infantry, was transported
to Ceylon and placed under operational control of South East Asia Command
(SEAC) under Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten. Lieutenant-Colonel Paul
Huard, a veteran of the Indochinese highlands, commanded the 5th RIC itself.
He insisted that his marsouins (porpoises)—the name traditionally applied to
colonial infantrymen since they originally were part of the French navy—be
in peak physical form, understand combat instinctively, and all be excellent
marksmen. In Ceylon the 5th RIC was outfitted with British equipment—Sten
Mark IVs, Lee-Enfields, and Bren guns for crew-served weapons, as well as
light mortars—and waited for transport to come available.10 The leading unit
of the 5th RIC was the paratroop battalion, known as the Special Air Service
Bataillon (SASB) and commanded by Capitaine de corvette Pierre Ponchardier.
It would come to play a significant role in the French re-conquest of the south.11
This arrangement, however, made France a subsidiary of British action in

the Far East. Furthermore, it committed France to making its return in the
south, in Cochinchina, since that was where the British would take up their
occupation of the country. In reality, it could not have been otherwise. French
operations were wholly dependent upon British supply and weapons at this
stage. Moreover, the French military position in the north was completely
undone.12 The 9 March Japanese coup had overturned the entire edifice of
French control. In Tonkin General Marcel Alessandri and about five thousand
men—mostly Indochinese tirailleurs (sharpshooters)—had evaded capture and
fled to the far northwest of the country, actually passing through Dien Bien Phu
on their way to seek sanctuary in China. They were in no position whatsoever
to help effect a French landing.13
While the French waited on British largesse, representatives from Hanoi
arrived in Saigon on 30 August 1945 to reconnect the northern and south-
ern arms of the Communist network. The chief of the delegation was Hoàng
Quốc Việt, who went by the alias Hạ Bá Cang. He was a main figure in the
Indochinese Communist Party and had spent a considerable amount of time
in Poulo Condore before the Popular Front French government released him
in 1936. For his role as the senior “executioner” of the Party, he was more com-
monly known as the “Grey Tiger.”
Ha Ba Cang set to work immediately. It was the Grey Tiger who sent the
Viet Minh prisoners released from Poulo Condore to the western provinces
where they were to begin the process of creating Committees of Public Safety
and establishing a secret police. He was concerned that should the French
return lead to a long war, it would be necessary to have access to the resources
of the west. To that end he dispatched his deputy Pham Hung to take up resi-
dence in Can Tho and place the Hoa Hao under his thumb.
The Grey Tiger also organized a gigantic rally in Saigon to coincide with
Ho Chi Minh’s independence speech set for 2 September to stoke the masses to
revolutionary fervor. During the demonstration over which the red Viet Minh
flag was ubiquitous, the French Catholic Mission was fired upon. The Grey
Tiger’s “special teams” of assassins had most likely infiltrated the crowd and
propelled it toward violence. The climatic event was the assassination of Father
Tricoire, the chaplain to the Vietnamese prisons and well known among the
revolutionaries. He was shot by nameless gunmen and his lifeless body dragged
to the steps of the main cathedral. Like a match in gasoline, the priest’s death set
off a blaze of anti-French activity throughout Saigon. Kidnappings began and
French homes were looted.14
The British took over a mess of simmering discontent and revolutionary
agitation. Major-General Sir Douglas Gracey arrived at Tan Son Nhut on 13
September 1945. His initial combat troops amounted to no more than a few
companies of Gurkhas of the 20th Indian Division.15 The chief French represen-
tative was Colonel Jean Marie Cédile, who had parachuted into a rice paddy on
24 August and, after a brief incarceration by the Viet Minh, assumed his func-
tion as commissioner of the Republic for Cochinchina.16
In Saigon the situation worsened rapidly. The French population remained
subject to sporadic violence and harassment. On 17 September the Viet Minh,
whom Gracey had been ignoring despite their claim to represent the govern-
ment of Cochinchina, called for a general strike. They directed the Vietnamese
to close markets and storefronts and any people working for the French were
to leave their jobs. Gracey did not have the means to deal effectively with the
rising disturbances. His forces were small, purposely kept so by a British gov-
ernment unwilling to involve itself in the perceived miasma of Vietnamese pol-
itics. And though Gracey used the Japanese to keep order, he was well aware
that large numbers of Japanese, especially the Kempetai, were actively colluding
with the Viet Minh.
The strike convinced Gracey that something more needed to be done
about insecurity within Saigon. His first action was the progressive disarma-
ment of the Viet Minh “police,” which at this point was probably composed of
Vanguard Youth and their Binh Xuyen cadres. The British also assumed con-
trol over the Saigon central prison on 20 September as well as the two chief
banks, the Yokohama Bank and the Bank of Indochina. The seizure of police
stations, post offices, and telegraph offices followed. Gracey then acceded to a
request by Cédile to release and rearm members of the 11th Régiment d’infan-
terie coloniale (RIC) interned by the Japanese during the coup. Cédile orga-
nized them hastily and added to their number some street-smart civilians as
well as a smattering of the very early elements of the 5th RIC, which, like the
commissioner, had parachuted into Cochinchina in the preceding weeks. Each
wearing the Cross of Lorraine for identification, the motley assemblage, per-
haps three hundred strong, stalked the streets of Saigon in the early morn-
ing hours of 23 September. The Viet Minh were caught by surprise and unable
to offer serious opposition. At the cost of two French killed and a handful of
wounded, the French regained control of the public buildings in Saigon. French
troops, however, having been humiliated by the Japanese and taunted during
the Viet Minh’s run at governance, took the opportunity to take a measure
of revenge. They manhandled civilians: presumed Viet Minh were bound on
leashes and led through the streets like dogs. Appalled by this display of indis-
cipline, Gracey ordered Cédile to punish the malefactors. He also requested
that the 11th RIC be disarmed and returned to its barracks. Nevertheless, Tran
Van Giau’s brief stint in the Hôtel de Ville was at an end and the French were
on their way back. The British chiefs of staff reminded Gracey that he should
restrict his future activities as much as possible.17
This was the start of the war for the French, more than a year before it
would get under way in Tonkin. Its relative bloodlessness would not last. The 23
September coup was followed by an event still poorly understood. In the early
morning of 24 September a large body of Vietnamese gathered around the por-
tion of Saigon known as Cité Hérault. This quarter was home to a large body
of French civilians and Eurasians, the métis, that is, the corporeal representa-
tions of French colonialism. The attackers stormed the district and massacred
those they found, including a large number of women and children. They killed
perhaps one hundred people. They kidnapped three hundred more, subjecting
them to rape, torture, and mutilation. The Viet Minh would blame the Binh
Xuyen and execute one of their number, supposedly for the crime. The Binh
Xuyen, of course, blamed the Viet Minh. British special operations thought it
was the work of Trotskyites. Others faulted the Cao Dai.18 Whatever the case,
the war was off to a grisly start.
The Viet Minh Central Committee under Tran Van Giau, but with the Grey
Tiger increasingly directing activity, abandoned Saigon, moving first to Cho
Dem west of the city before going to the Plain of Reeds. In a small village near
My Tho, the Viet Minh leadership met toward the end of September to discuss
their plan. It was hoped that if they could make the reoccupation expensive
enough, a France tired of war and its own occupation at Nazi hands would opt
for a negotiated settlement. They dubbed this plan đánh nhanh, thắng nhanh
(attack fast, win fast). Though lacking forces strong enough to confront the
French head-on, the Viet Minh decided on a blockade of Saigon, to deprive
it of resources and prevent the French from expanding their hold. Behind the
blockade they would raise and train new forces in the event of a prolonged con-
flict.19 A brief truce allowed the Viet Minh to begin extricating their forces from
Saigon and applying pressure to its lines of communications.20 Under threat of
violence, merchants ceased bringing food into the city. The situation became
tense quickly. By the early portion of October, Cédile estimated that perhaps a
four-day supply of food remained. Only continuous British intervention pre-
vented the worst of the commissioner’s fears from being realized.21
The anti-French forces were, of course, a hodge-podge of entities operating
underneath the Viet Minh umbrella. Within the city and its environs, Bay Vien
was left in charge. In each quarter the Binh Xuyen chief placed one section to
operate clandestinely in the area under allied occupation. In the days following
the French coup these forces went to work attacking the arsenal, destroying the
waterworks, and torching the fuel depot at Nha Be. South of the city and in Cho
Lon he kept the remainder of his forces, organized into their seven battalions.
North and northwest of the city were Communist troops, mostly northern-
ers, answerable to the Grey Tiger. There was another unit, chi doi 12, under
the half-Chinese Communist leader Tô Ký, near Gia Dinh. Along the road to
Tay Ninh and near the airport at Tan Son Nhut were the two Cao Dai chi doi,
both bursting with Japanese deserters.22 Toward My Tho to the southwest, the
Viet Minh cut the route in multiple locations and blew up the bridge at Tan
An.23 Covering My Tho itself was the grandiosely named Viet Minh First “divi-
sion,” though it amounted to no more than three companies. These units were
raised, armed, and probably in part commanded by the Japanese. Directly west
of Saigon, operating generally between Ben Luc and Duc Hoa at the eastern
border of the Plain of Reeds was the Viet Minh Third Division under Nguyen
Hoa Hiep; its strength was approximately eight hundred men. This unit, orig-
inally raised by the Japanese and replete with Japanese personnel, was non-
Communist in outlook and was not overly trusted by the Executive Committee. 24
Most units, however, were not even to this level of organization. Poorly armed
and poorly led bands, still in the process of forming and scattered helter-skelter
about the countryside, formed the bulk of Viet Minh forces.25
The Viet Minh’s organizational and material shortcomings were exacer-
bated by the attitude of much of the new leadership that took control with the
Grey Tiger. Throughout Mien Tay the incoming Viet Minh marginalized Hoa
Hao leaders and in some cases attempted to disarm Hoa Hao militias. On 8
September the Hoa Hao staged a massive demonstration in Can Tho to pro-
test the Viet Minh takeover and to demand the removal of “corrupt” elements.
Despite the pressing need to prepare to counter the arrival of the French, the
Communists were compelled to rush in troops from wherever they could to
suppress the movement. They fired on the crowd and arrested a number of the
leaders, including Tran Van Soai’s son and Huynh Phu So’s brother. These men
and their Trotskyist advisor were publicly executed in the Can Tho sports sta-
dium at the beginning of October. Hoa Hao sectaries responded in a paroxysm
of rage, killing Communist cadres throughout the west. An open rift did not yet
occur, but Communist relations with the Hoa Hao were deteriorating rapidly
and the anti-French war was not yet even truly under way.26
It would be some time before the French could exploit such divisions in
the resistance. The corps expéditionnaire technically included two divisions (9th
Division d’infanterie coloniale [DIC] and the 3rd DIC), under the command
of Leclerc. With these forces the command had hoped initially to debark in
Saigon, establish a maritime base from which to facilitate the reoccupation of
the rest of Indochina, and then drive rapidly on Cambodia and Laos.27 Events
and the exigencies of shipping space made this course unrealizable. While the
9th was at least ready to move and simply had to wait on shipping, the 3rd
had further difficulties. It was formed from two other divisions, the 1st and
2nd, both of which contained a large number of African troops. French policy,
however, was to retake their overseas colonies with white troops only so as to
forestall potential arguments about colonialism being reinstalled with colonial
troops. The black formations had to be stripped out. The remaining enfeebled
divisions were then fused together to make one, still understrength division.
The 9th DIC would be ready to move by 1 September 1945. The 3rd would need
an additional six weeks.28
The limitations of shipping would not even permit the arrival of the full
9th DIC for some time. To ameliorate this problem and maximize the strik-
ing power of the first units on scene, the French command decided to form a
groupement de marche from the 2nd Division Blindée. It was made up of vol-
unteers and Leclerc put at its head his trusted subordinate, Jacques Massu.
The groupement, which became known as Groupement Massu, was entirely
motorized. Its core was a mechanized infantry battalion in half-tracks. In sup-
port were a reconnaissance squadron, a company of tanks, and an engineer
company, plus a medical detachment and a maintenance platoon. It was a
unit of veterans, seasoned in many engagements against the Germans. Massu
himself called it a “magnificent instrument of war.” All in all, the groupe-
ment was a self-contained strike force capable of independent, mobile oper-
ations until such time as the 9th DIC could arrive in force. Its organization
says much about the type of rebel hunting the French thought they would be
doing in Indochina.
With Groupement Massu and the aforementioned SASB under Ponchardier,
Leclerc would “maintain and affirm [France’s] rights” in Indochina, as was his
charge.29 For their part, the British to an extent had cleared Saigon with some
French aid and launched operations to gain control of the northern suburbs of
Go Vap and Gia Dinh during the early part of October.30 Groupement Massu
arrived in Saigon on 15 October and was ready for deployment shortly there-
after. Though there was some breathing space thanks to the British, the city
remained besieged. Leclerc, who had arrived on the 5th, had too few troops
to think small. Rather, à la World War II, his armored spearhead would rush
boldly to the attack and carry the battle into the enemy rear areas. This action,
he hoped, would break the Viet Minh “vise” around Saigon, dislocate and con-
fuse the amorphous rebel units, and ultimately allow Leclerc to the make the
most of his numerically small but slashing troops.31
The first target was My Tho, the second city of Cochinchina and important
market for rice down in the delta, something desperately needed in Saigon at
this stage. One of Massu’s lieutenants procured a Japanese Zero and did a hasty
reconnaissance of the route, revealing the numerous places where the road had
been cut. With engineers in the organization, Leclerc remained undaunted and
decided on a rapid overland thrust toward My Tho; the engineers would have
to patch the road as they went. In support of the main thrust, the SASB under
Ponchardier would be transported by ship to critical road junctures where they
would secure the passing of the armored column. The bull-necked Ponchardier,
however, only vaguely understood his role as a subordinate and decided he dis-
liked the scheme.
He had in his possession a copy of Histoire d’Annam by Alfred Schreiner.
From his reading of the 1861 campaign to take My Tho, Ponchardier learned of
the immense difficulty of reaching My Tho by land, should the route be con-
tested. By contrast, the river approach was much easier. With this in mind,
Ponchardier elected to take My Tho himself and not to inform Massu of his
change in plans. He loaded his commandos into a British LCI and proceeded
up the Mekong. The SASB then entered the main canal that serviced My Tho.
To the staccato of Sten guns, Ponchardier’s men bounded ashore at the My Tho
wharf in the dark of the night on 24 October. The Viet Minh again were taken
utterly by surprise. They had not expected a descent by water and they had not
expected French troops to emerge from a British ship. Panic seized the defend-
ers. Unfamiliar with the city, Ponchardier also brought with him Jean Leroy,
the half-caste Catholic son of Ben Tre, who showed the commandos where to
cut the phone and telegraph lines to prevent the Viet Minh from calling in
reinforcements. Those Viet Minh stranded inside were gunned down with effi-
ciency. The town was firmly in Ponchardier’s hands by five in the morning.
His men set up at the critical points of the city and awaited Massu’s column. It
arrived the next day thoroughly exhausted after an all-night plod along the sab-
otaged route. In typical gallows humor, Ponchardier’s men perched a Viet Minh
corpse in a rocking chair to greet the bedraggled road warriors.32
Leclerc’s men took the rest of Cochinchina in similar fashion. They took
Go Cong a few days later. Ponchardier overran Vinh Long at the end of October
in another waterborne night raid. Can Tho fell to the French at the beginning
of November, as did Tay Ninh.33 With the 9th DIC arrived and elements of the
3rd close behind, in early December Leclerc seized Tra Vinh; Long Xuyen, Bien
Hoa, and Rach Gia in January; and Ca Mau in the first days of February 1946.
Many of these towns were taken against considerable, if disorganized, militia
opposition and at substantial cost to the Viet Minh.34 For example, in the early,
heady days of the war some of the resistance to France’s return in and around
Bien Hoa had come courtesy of ethnic minorities who came out and fought
the French with anything available, in this case bows and poisoned arrows. The
Viet Minh defeat caused these groups to remove themselves from the alliance
and fall back into their forests to await the war’s outcome.35
By March/April of 1946 the corps expéditionnaire had at least nominally

occupied all of the principal points of Cochinchina. The Viet Minh plan to vig-
orously contest the French return had markedly failed. Inexperienced troops
wholly lacking in heavy weapons proved no match for the fast-moving, vet-
eran French colonial battalions.36 With few exceptions, Viet Minh attempts to
defend static positions ended in bloody retreats. Coordination was also lacking.
The Communists and their erstwhile nationalist allies worked poorly together.
Communications broke down and operational direction failed.37 The ferocity
and speed of the French reoccupation of Cochinchina shocked and disoriented
the southern Viet Minh. It upended their positions, forced the dissolution of
their larger formations, and gravely threatened their claim to represent the true
government of the Vietnamese people. Intent on surviving and rebuilding, the
battered Viet Minh cadres and formations took refuge in the “difficult country”
of Cochinchina: in the U Minh forest, the Plain of Reeds, and in the forests east
of Saigon and Bien Hoa.38
To salvage the deplorable situation and light a fire under the confounded
southern resistance, Hanoi sent south an enigmatic figure whose life and death
remain shrouded in mysteries. Born Nguyễn Phương Thảo in northern Vietnam
in 1910, his nom de guerre was Nguyễn Bình. As a young man he had traveled
in Cochinchina and worked as a launderer in Saigon. While there he became
acquainted with numerous nationalist radicals, members of the burgeoning
Việt Nam Quốc Dân Đảng (VNQDD, Vietnamese Nationalist Party). In 1929
the Sûreté cracked down on malcontents and Binh was sent to Poulo Condore.
There he learned about the many strands of Vietnamese nationalism, including
Communism. Though recent scholarship suggests he did not himself join the
Indochinese Communist Party until 1947 and remained skeptical of the party
line even after, his closest friends in Poulo Condore did make the transition.
Later in a prison confrontation between nationalists and Communists, Nguyen
Binh lost his left eye while defending a Communist associate. Sometime there-
after the VNQDD purged him from their ranks.
He was released from prison in 1934 and from there his story becomes
muddled. Many rumors spread during the war that Binh had perhaps received
training at the Whampoa Military Academy in China. Christopher Goscha,
the Western world’s foremost expert on Binh, doubts this claim. Still, given
his organizational acumen and the prevalence of the story later on, it seems at
least possible. It was also in this period that he changed his name to Nguyen
Binh, perhaps after a town name in northern Vietnam. Also, Bình means
roughly “world peace” making the southern leader potentially the bringer of
world peace. Though not conclusive proof of Binh’s Communist attachment,
the idea of “world peace” is far more in line with the universalizing impulse
Approx. Location & Strength of VM Forces, 1945–1946
Limit of Zone
2000 Zone 7
to
Cambodia 3000 800
(mostly
Cao Dai)
Sai Gon
1000 to
1500 (BX)
1000 to 1500
Zone 8
800
Zone 9 (Hoa Hao)
SOUTH
500 CHINA
SEA
0 40 80
Miles
Viet Minh dispositions, 1945–1946. Map by William Keegan. Adapted from Bodinier, Le
Retour de la France en Indochine, 1945–1946: textes et documents, 105, and “La pacification
du Sud Viet-Nam,” prepared by Capitaine Menard, État-major—3e Bureau, dated 15 March
1954, SHAT, carton 10H984, Service historique de la Défense, CHA, Vincennes. Copyright
© 2018 by the University of Oklahoma Press.
67
within Marxist-Leninist thought than it is with any species of more parochial

Vietnamese nationalism. Nevertheless, certainty on this point is not possible.
What is certain is that by the time of the war, Binh had established his
reputation among the ICP leadership as a competent, if somewhat rough-and-
tumble, leader with a troublesome independent streak. Back in Haiphong in
the pivotal summer of 1945 Binh was the chief organizer of the “revolutionary
zone,” encompassing Haiphong and its outlying suburbs. He established a good
rapport with the working class of the area and turned their strength to disman-
tling other non-Communist nationalist groupings.
As the French overran Cochinchina, Hanoi reacted in horror. Binh, the
proven organizer and ardent enough revolutionary for the likes of Giap and
Ho Chi Minh, was spirited south to stiffen the backs of the reeling Viet Minh.
He cut a romantic, swashbuckling figure. He was tall and muscular. He habit-
ually wore dark sunglasses to hide his mangled eye and in the field sported a
Japanese helmet as well as a saber and cloak.39 He arrived in Cochinchina in
November of 1945 in time to witness Viet Minh militia fade before combined
Franco-British onslaughts north of Saigon. Binh quickly summoned together
the Viet Minh leadership he could gather to a series of meetings. He informed
them that the Trung ương (Central Committee) had appointed him military
leader of the southern military establishment and demanded their compliance
with his wishes. At this conference Binh also extolled the great Vietnamese tra-
dition of resisting foreign aggression and urged the assembly to persevere in
their cause. He recognized, however, that the main problem facing the Nam
Bo resistance was the “warlord” (lãnh chúa) mentality of so many of its lead-
ers.40 From the outset Binh was determined to fix this. He established the Mặt
Trận Quốc Gia Liên Hiệp (United National Front) to combine and coordinate
among the various Communist and sect-based armed forces, but this never was
more than a cover for Viet Minh control of southern resistance.41
Though he was eventual head of all Viet Minh armed forces in the south,
Binh took over personal command of War Zone VII, that area generally east of
the Vaico oriental including Saigon. This quickly became the best organized of
the three zones in Nam Bo. He immediately began reorienting the war effort
in light of military realities. In open field warfare the French were too strong.
For the time being direct confrontations needed to be avoided so that he could
build up Viet Minh military formations. To accomplish this Binh scrapped the
larger units, substituting instead various chi doi. These were dispersed around
Zone VII so that if one were caught and destroyed the overall damage would be
minimized.42 The imposition of a numbered system of chi doi gives a false sense
to Binh’s level of control. Though he brought approximately seventeen chi doi
into existence in Zone VII—mostly by renumbering existing formations—only
some of them were truly answerable to him. Fewer still were capable of con-
certed action. The rest continued to march to the orders of the various national-
ist groupings to which they were beholden.43 Tactically, Binh’s men took on the
mantle of the guerrilla. The main units fell back into remote base areas only to
emerge to engage in small operations: ambushes, sabotage, and attacks on obvi-
ously weak positions. Larger scale operations would have to wait.44 This was all
in accord with the precepts of guerilla war laid down from Hanoi by Trần Huy
Liệu, the Democratic Republic of Vietnam’s (DRV) communication minister
and longtime friend of Binh from their time in Poulo Condore and for whom
Binh had lost his eye.45
The other arm of Binh’s strategy was to sow maximum disorder in Saigon,
the political center of Cochinchinese life. At the military level, his hope was
that terror in the cities, principally Saigon, would prevent the French from
broadening their pacification work, giving his units time to develop their base
areas and war-making potential.46 Binh’s agents therefore set to work orga-
nizing various elements in Saigon for clandestine action. Their main recruits
were manual laborers, “vagabonds,” the young—especially students—and sun-
dry other workers. Grenade attacks, assassinations, and poisonings—all assid-
uously reconnoitered and carried out by Binh’s teams—set the city on edge.
The urban committees sought out for special attention those Vietnamese who
worked with the French administration—that is, the “traitors.”47 In September
1946 alone Binh’s agents killed seventy prominent citizens in Saigon-Cho Lon.48
These activities had an immediate political purpose as well—to scuttle
French diplomatic maneuvers. From the time of their return to Cochinchina,
French military leadership had believed that the best way to secure their con-
trol of the south was to offer it an existence independent of the northern repub-
lic proclaimed by Ho Chi Minh. Leclerc had expressed this view in May to
the French high commissioner, Admiral Thierry d’Argenlieu. He believed that
a “Cochinchina for the Cochinchinese” would rally the greatest number of
Vietnamese to the French cause and undercut the rebellion.49 The admiral was
inclined to agree.
The high point of this policy came in June 1946. Rebuffed in his attempts to
have delegations from the other members of the Indochinese federation pres-
ent at the Fontainebleau conference between the French and the Hanoi govern-
ments, Thierry d’Argenlieu summoned the excluded to a separate negotiation
at Dalat in Annam. Cochinchinese separatists made up the bulk of the south-
ern delegation, which voted to reject any eventual union with Tonkin and form
a separate Provisional Government of the Republic of Cochin China under
the its first president, Dr. Nguyễn Văn Thịnh. Thinh and all those who par-
ticipated in this government quickly became prime targets for Nguyen Binh’s
assassins. This maneuver also effectively nullified any chance for a solution
at the Fontainebleau conference that resumed in July. Thierry d’Argenlieu’s
scheme deeply embittered the Hanoi government, since it specifically undercut
the provision of the 6 March accords that called for a referendum on the unifi-
cation of the three sections (ky) of Vietnam. The Hanoi delegation was not pre-
pared to negotiate on anything but the essential unity of the Vietnamese people.
For their part, the French were disgusted at the DRV’s claim to be negotiating in
good faith, all the while actively supporting the resistance in the south.50
And yet, while making the chance of a wider war all but inevitable, the
proclamation of the Republic of Cochin China did complicate matters greatly
for the Viet Minh. The relative simplicity of arguing for an anti-French alliance
would no longer strictly work. A significant minority of the Cochinchinese elite
was attracted to the notion of a separate southern identity and put themselves
at its service. The consistent use of terror on the part of Viet Minh cells of
course yoked much of the population into submission; it also called into ques-
tion the legitimacy and civility of the Communist program. Most Viet Minh
attacks in Saigon were not against the French military, but against Vietnamese
civilians. For Binh, Saigon was a hotbed of reactionary activity deserving of
destruction.51 Most residents probably did not see it that way.
On the military side, the task of suppressing this resistance fell to the
recently arrived 3rd DIC. The 9th DIC, which accomplished most of the initial
conquest of Cochinchina, had been withdrawn by mid-February 1946 in order
to garrison sites in Tonkin, in anticipation of the Franco-Vietnamese Accords
of 6 March. Those accords provided for the withdrawal of the Chinese from
their occupation of northern Vietnam and a limited French return to Haiphong
and Hanoi. At the time of the relief in late February, the 3rd DIC had an effec-
tive strength of only slightly more than 13,000 men. With this they would need
to garrison the entirety of Cochinchina and begin the process of pacification.52
The 3rd DIC, now also known as the Troupes françaises de l’Indochine du Sud,
adopted its first attempt at a territorial organization in March 1946. This struc-
ture fluctuated significantly over the first year before a zonal organization was
implemented in 1947. The division only disposed of two complete infantry reg-
iments, the 22nd and 43rd Régiments d’infanterie coloniale (RIC). These were
assigned to the Bien Hoa and Can Tho sectors, respectively. The northern sec-
tor remained amorphous for some time. It was initially held by units from the
Brigade d’Extrême-Orient, but was eventually taken over the 13e Demi-brigade
de Légion étrangère (DBLE); in reality most of this area would not enter the
French orbit until the defection of the Cao Dai in June 1946.53 Without any
more dedicated infantry formations, the central sector, Vaicos was assigned
to the divisional artillery composed of the 10th Régiment d’artillerie coloniale
(RAC) and the 4th RAC (-).54 This arrangement presented a unique challenge to
the artillerymen, unused to holding terrain or fighting as infantry.
The commander of the 3rd DIC was General Georges Yves Nyo. Born in
a small town in northern Brittany, Nyo graduated from the French military
academy at Saint-Cyr as the First World War broke out. He served in various
leadership roles during that conflict. Afterward he joined the colonial army,
serving in Morocco, West Africa, and in Indochina from 1933 to 1935. During
this time Nyo was responsible for bringing much of the Kha (in Vietnamese
referred to as Moï) country in the central highlands under French authority.
The following year Nyo’s battalion destroyed the rebellion of Ong Kommandam
in Laos. He was a colonel by 1942 and chief of staff of French troops in West
Africa. The Vichy government furloughed Nyo upon his return to France later
that year. He briefly organized a network for those looking to escape occupied
France and spent two months in a Spanish jail before making his way to the
Free French forces in Casablanca in 1943. Following the end of war in Europe
Nyo was charged with organizing French troops bound for the Far East. He was
named commander of the 3rd DIC on 16 August 1945.55
Given his background, Nyo’s perspective on the war was perhaps a bit sur-
prising. He did not see his task as following the “old formula” of “colonial cam-
paigns.” The flying column of Thomas Robert Bugeaud’s Algeria, the razzia that
offered the speedy subjection of native rebellions, would not be appropriate in
Cochinchina. In his instructions to his commanders in mid-March 1946, Nyo
instead drew parallels to the French occupation of Tonkin in the nineteenth
century, a ten-year venture against determined adversaries who ravaged con-
voys and harassed far-flung posts. He did not foresee a short war. To win, he
argued, the TFIS would need to do two things: (1) provide confidence and secu-
rity to the “reducibles;” and (2) eliminate the “irreducibles.” By these terms Nyo
meant those who could reconcile themselves to France’s return and those who
would never accept it. He numbered among this latter group the Japanese who
aided the Viet Minh, those freed from Poulo Condore, those committed to a
life of “piracy” (here he was rather mistaken), and various inveterate political
dissidents. Of no small significance was his correct understanding that there
were many elements in Cochinchinese society who could be pried from the
Viet Minh coalition.
On the military front Nyo’s chief problem was gaspillage, that is, the wast-
ing of matériel and personnel already in short supply. The first few months of
1946 had witnessed the TFIS extending its hold into many of the more remote
corners of the south, down to Ca Mau and in the east out toward Nha Trang in
Annam.56 The 9th DIC’s drive to open up routes and secure the principal cit-
ies, however, had been hollow. Vast tracks of land remained totally unoccupied.
With only 13,000 troops in the whole division, each battalion would need to
account for approximately 6,000 square kilometers of real estate, an imprac-
tical task, to say the least.57 Furthermore, hasty departures from recently cap-
tured areas would call into question France’s resolve and potentially hinder the
TFIS’s ability to woo the “reducibles.”
Nyo’s answer was pacification via recruitment. The recruiting of locals into
established French regular units began almost immediately. Nyo was well versed
in the use of indigenous troops. In his suppression of Kommandam’s rebellion
in 1936 his force had been a mix of Vietnamese tirailleurs along with Rhade and
Jarai militia.58 In similar fashion, by June 1946 the 3rd DIC approved the rais-
ing of 5,000 partisans, or suppletifs, to fill holes in units created by casualties
and insufficient reinforcements from the métropole.59 In this sense his strate-
gic modalities were very “colonial,” following the general precept of “divide and
conquer,” which had served understrength European powers so well in the head-
ier days of colonial expansion. These new recruits, however, were generally tied
to their sector and could not necessarily move with their parent unit, especially
if that unit changed theater; for example, when the 9th DIC left Cochinchina it
was required to transfer its indigenous troops to incoming 3rd DIC units.
Though fine distinctions among recruits were not present in 1946, local
recruits filled one of three roles. The first, as mentioned, was as supplemen-
tal troops to established units. The second was as auxiliaries, namely guides,
interpreters, cooks, porters, and laborers.60 The third role was as partisans des
unites autochtones légères (indigenous light units) or partisans de village. These
troops took over guard duty at fixed posts and provided troops for commando
units specific to the various sectors. By late November 1947 suppletifs in ser-
vice to the TFIS would number nearly 13,000 men, in effect almost doubling
the strength of the southern command.61 Naturally, hastily raised local troops
were not anywhere near as combat effective as regulars, but their local knowl-
edge and language skills were invaluable. They also freed up mobile units for
wider-ranging operations by taking over a great deal of the static guard require-
ments that habitually plague pacification efforts.
Especially during the rainy season of 1946, the rapid inclusion of locals
into French units and the prevailing disorder among the Viet Minh allowed the
TFIS to make modest gains. Actions in the far west furthered the disorganiza-
tion of Zone IX, forcing most bands to disperse to the point of near fragmenta-
tion.62 In the east Nguyen Binh’s presence was certainly felt. Convoys running
between Bien Hoa and Cap St. Jacques were the object of frequent harassment
or attack, as were the small posts along the frontier of the forested region east
of Saigon. Of course, in Saigon Binh accelerated his campaign of assassinations.
The addresses of pro-separatist politicians and journalists were distributed, and
teams set to work. Tran Tan Phat, a member of the Cochinchinese Consultative
Council, was killed at the end of March. In Ninh Dinh, a small village nearby,
fifteen Catholics were murdered; thirty more were kidnapped and their homes
burned. Binh also stepped up propaganda against any notion of a separate
Cochinchinese government.63
The signal French success of 1946 was the rallying of the Cao Dai in June.
The yoke of Viet Minh leadership had not been light. From the outset, the
Communists had worked to eliminate rival nationalists. Non-Communists on
the Executive Committee found their throats slit. The head of the Trotskyites,
Tạ Thu Thâu, ended up dead on his way back to Cochinchina, killed by
Communist organizers in Annam. In Baria to the east rumors swirled that the
Communist political chief, Dương Bạch Mai, was liquidating nationalist cadres
wherever he found them. This activity only intensified after Giau and the Grey
Tiger were recalled to the north and Nguyen Binh took charge.64
For the Cao Dai, opinion had always been mixed as to the advisability of
cooperation with the Viet Minh. The Cao Dai were known for their fervent anti-
French stance and had gladly accepted Japanese assistance during the occupa-
tion, but they were also independent and distrustful of outside control. This
suspicion ran particularly strong in Tran Quang Vinh. At the outbreak of the
war Vinh had dispatched several of his subordinates to the provinces to rally
the Cao Dai youth and prevent them from falling completely under the Viet
Minh sway. Vinh himself fled west with his family, hoping to seek shelter in Sa
Dec. Instead, on the orders of Tran Van Giau, Communist agents arrested Vinh
and incarcerated him for a time in Ca Mau. If he remained at all in doubt about
Viet Minh intentions, his brief captivity gave him clarity. Sometime thereafter
Vinh fooled his captors, escaped, and made his way to My Tho, where he was
arrested again on 8 May 1946, this time by French security forces.65
Nyo, desperate to destabilize the Viet Minh coalition, quickly entered into
negotiations with Vinh. He and his Cao Dai were clearly among the “reduc-
ibles” that the general wished to fold into the French camp. An informal accord
was reached within days. Pham Cong Tac would be returned from exile and the
Cao Dai would bring their troops into the conflict against Nguyen Binh. On
9 June 1946 in Tay Ninh, at a ceremony festooned in all the pomp of Cao Dai
religiosity before the chief temple of the faithful, a thousand Cao Dai soldiers
rendered honors to a French delegation. The Cao Dai raised the tricolor as well
as the standard of Cochinchina over their Holy See. When Pham Cong Tac
arrived back in Cochinchina two months later, he announced the Cao Dai com-
mitment to preserving order under French auspices. The Viet Minh’s campaign
for control had suffered a second significant setback. With the Cao Dai sub-
mission, 2,000 men moved from the Viet Minh camp to support the French; of
these, approximately 950 were reasonably well armed.66 Tay Ninh, previously a
valuable Viet Minh hideout, was from then on contested ground.67 In response,
Binh ordered the Binh Xuyen to attack the Cao Dai. Bay Vien, who was increas-
ingly chafing under Communist direction, refused.68
Though the initial agreement with the Cao Dai was rather informal, the
arrangement was codified more explicitly in January 1947. The French natu-
rally realized that attempting to assert themselves over the Cao Dai would run
directly counter to their hope of breaking up the Viet Minh alliance and so
offered the Cao Dai a great deal of latitude. To begin with, the Cao Dai were
given de facto control over Tay Ninh province so long as they respected the laws
of the Republic of Cochinchina. Moreover, the French military pledged to pro-
vide the Cao Dai troops with pay, food, and supplies. General Nyo’s representa-
tive to the negotiations did insist on the formation of a French control mission
(Mission française de Liaison et de Contrôle), but Cao Dai forces were under
their own officers and were permitted to fly the Cao Dai flag.69 At the end of
January 1947, the Cao Dai repulsed a Viet Minh attack on Tay Ninh and then, in
conjunction with the French forces, pushed back the Communists to the bor-
ders of the province.70
Unfortunately for the French command, the success of rallying the Cao
Dai was followed by a stagnating military situation elsewhere and a period of
political ambivalence that threatened to seriously undermine the French posi-
tion. Though the TFIS managed to eject the Viet Minh (chi doi 10) from some
of the forested region northeast of Bien Hoa, the marshy area west of Hoc Mon
remained firmly in revolutionary hands.71 It was probably around this time
that Binh moved his headquarters to the Intervaicos.72 This area was critical
for the Viet Minh as its retention allowed them to keep open lines of commu-
nication and maintain units to pressure the major urban areas, while remain-
ing sheltered by the relative inaccessibility of the terrain. Lieutenant Colonel
Aimé Durand, the commander of the 10th RAC near Cho Lon, recognized the
threat and launched operations against Viet Minh units in the area and blood-
ied them, but could not hope to clean them out.73 In July in the area of Ben Tre
down to Mo Cay, large Viet Minh formations wreaked considerable havoc. Nyo
was forced to send in elements of his meager reserves to shore up the situation.
French casualties mounted.74
The so-called modus vivendi concluded between France and Ho Chi Minh
in Paris on 13 September exacerbated military issues in the late summer/early
fall of 1946. The Fontainebleau conference had largely failed to find an adequate
way to bridge the differences between France and Ho Chi Minh’s Hanoi gov-
ernment. The declaration of the Republic of Cochinchina had naturally made
this effort all the more difficult. Nevertheless, Ho Chi Minh signed a temporary
cease-fire for the south, probably in the hopes that this would keep the prom-
ise of negotiations alive and win for Tonkin a longer reprieve from armed con-
frontation. The Hanoi government had seen how quickly Cochinchina had
been overrun and needed time to set its affairs in order. The agreement, which
stopped “all acts of hostility and of violence,” went into force on 30 October
1946. It was set to expire in January 1947 when all parties had agreed that nego-
tiations would resume. The outbreak of war in the north rendered this last pro-
vision moot.75
In the south the modus vivendi seemed to undercut many of the political
props of the French occupation. If the French had agreed to reopen negotiation
with Hanoi at a future date, it seemed more than feasible that France would
abandon the notion of an independent Cochinchinese Republic. Viet Minh
propaganda hit upon this fear, pushing the idea that the French departure was
close at hand.76 The loss of face for many who advocated for the French-backed
republic was unbearable. Dr. Thinh, head of the provisional Cochinchinese
government, killed himself in despair.77 French army reports indicated a “cri-
sis of confidence” among the population as collaboration with the TFIS fell off
sharply. For an army still struggling with serious manpower issues, the wave of
desertions among the pro-French partisans was most unwelcome.78
As tensions heightened in Tonkin, Binh used the modus vivendi to
strengthen the Viet Minh position in Cochinchina. Temporarily relieved from
French harassment, Binh was able to infiltrate his forces in the Intervaicos
down to Duc Hoa.79 The Viet Minh also stocked up on arms; French units
found their opponents much better equipped afterward. Binh was able to bring
in substantial reinforcements from Tonkin. In December a large body of north-
erners arrived, allowing Binh to form two new chi doi.80 At the local level the
Viet Minh pressed forward their organization, establishing village-level self-de-
fense forces to complement and supplement the main units.81
At the end of November Binh received word from Giap in Hanoi: “As soon
as news of the attack on Hanoi by the French is confirmed, all Nam Bo fronts
will attack together.”82 The southern Viet Minh were to launch spoiling attacks
in order to keep French units occupied, impress outsiders with widespread Viet
Minh resolve, and prevent reinforcements from heading north.83 Lê Duẫn, the
head of the Executive Committee of Nam Bo and future secretary general of the
entire Communist Party in Vietnam, reiterated this message, urging the south-
ern Viet Minh to do everything in their power, regardless of cost, to prevent the
French from attacking the north.84
Binh opened his attack in Zone VII on 21 December. As he had been advis-
ing Giap to do in the north (to no effect), Binh made the French lines of com-
munications his primary object. Roads in and around Saigon became scenes
of constant ambush. His men cut the rail lines running to Nha Trang and Loc
Ninh in multiple locations; they also severed the roads down to Cap St. Jacques
and out to Vinh Long. French offensive action ground to a halt, as did most
economic activity. Binh maintained the tempo for an entire month. He threat-
ened Tan Son Nhut. The French drove back powerful Viet Minh formations
from Bien Hoa only with difficulty. Near Thu Dau Mot, the French could not
prevent the Viet Minh from overrunning the town of Lai Thieu at the tail end
of the offensive. There they burned the public buildings and kidnapped a num-
ber of the chief citizens. Out to the west the French salvaged the situation at
great expense: the southern portions of Tra Vinh and Ben Tre provinces had
to be abandoned entirely, seriously calling into question French credibility.
In terms of casualties, the month-long battle cost the TFIS five hundred dead
and as many wounded. Nyo’s situation was made worse by the loss of units
headed north. The Viet Minh failed to prevent the dispatch of reinforcements
to Tonkin: seven infantry battalions and two artillery groups, totaling approx-
imately 3,000 men.85
Valluy had officially replaced Leclerc as the supreme commander of French
troops in Indochina (Commandant Supérior des Troupes Françaises d’Ex-
trême-Orient) on 1 October 1946.86 Even before this he noted the intractable
problem faced by the relatively small French Expeditionary Corps. “We have
placed the hand over all the country,” he contended in September 1946, but “we
do not hold it except by the fingertips.” He admitted that an “oil slick” strategy
starting in Cochinchina and working its way only slowly north to Annam and
then to Tonkin might have been more prudent. The plight of French citizens
suffering under Viet Minh exactions in Hue and Hanoi, he argued, had pre-
vented him from following this route. The problem was what to do now that the
French had dispersed their resources in unfocused endeavors. He concluded
his thoughts by noting that “the hardest part remains to be done.”87 He was cer-
tainly correct.
The situation was especially grave in Cochinchina. Nyo’s understrength
command was hard-pressed in the opening months of 1947. On the political
front a deep malaise fell over much of the population in the western prov-
inces due to the French retraction at the end of 1946, a problem that threat-
ened to become even more severe if the rice harvest could not be collected
over following weeks. The TFIS could expect a modicum of reinforcements
in February 1947, but certainly not enough to occupy all the country suffi-
ciently.88 Added to this was the reconstituted Garde Civile (Civil Guard),
which the French renamed the Garde républicaine de Cochinchine (GRC)
in November 1946. These guards were established in 1909 and intended as
an internal security force for Cochinchina, but the Japanese dissolved them
after they assumed control in March 1945.89 Valluy resurrected the organiza-
tion to give a measure of protection to civilian provincial officials. By April
the GRC, divided into four regiments, was deemed ready for deployment. It
was placed under the command of the province chiefs, though once the zonal
organization came into effect these men would be subject to military direc-
tion. The strongest of the regiments was the 1st (nearly 2,500 men), which was
stationed in the increasingly volatile western provinces. The total strength of
the GRC at the beginning of the year was slightly over 6,000. It would reach
to 7,900 by year’s end.90
What was needed, however, was not just more troops but a path to vic-
tory. The outbreak of war in Tonkin had greatly accelerated matters. With the
fight in the north threatening to open entirely new vistas of military/political
problems, it was imperative that the war in Cochinchina be brought under con-
trol as rapidly as possible. High Commissioner Thierry d’Argenlieu opted for a
program of pacification. Writing at the beginning of February 1947, the admi-
ral argued that the new reinforcements to the south would allow the TFIS to
“vigorously take up the struggle against the troublemakers” and progressively
establish order and security across the country. The high commissioner said it
would be a “Great Game of Pacification,” uniting military and political action
into an effective whole. It was not a venture the admiral would see through, as
he was recalled to France a month later.91
His vision was nevertheless set in motion. The TFIS first reorganized its
military dispositions. Nyo replaced the system of independent sectors with
three zones de pacification (West, Center, and East) that corresponded to the
Viet Minh organization of Khu IX, VIII, and VII.92 Nyo placed each zone under
the command of a colonel, along with the provision of a political counselor to
coordinate disagreements between the civilian and military spheres.93 Overall
coordination of the pacification operation fell to the Comité de Pacification
created in mid-February. This group brought together the principal political
and military figures in Cochinchina. The five-member council included the
president of Cochinchina, the vice president, the national defense minister, the
French commissioner of the Republic for Cochinchina, and the commander of
the TFIS. Together they were to ensure the smooth functioning of the pacifica-
tion operations and, most importantly, to prevent the dispersion of effort that
had plagued 1946.94
Their first decision was to make Zone West the main effort.95 Indeed, for
spring 1947, the pacification of Cochinchina was the principal goal of the entire
corps.96 The commander in the West, Colonel Cluzet, received the entirety
of the initial wave of reinforcements, the 1st BM/1st RIC and the 1st BM/2nd
RIC. The Pacification Committee also gave him full control over both civilian
and military functions within his zone in order to speed up the pacification
process.97
The plan was to proceed by phases according to the time-honored “oil
slick” technique, whereby government control spreads slowly but irreversibly
from some central location.98 The first provinces to be dealt with were Vinh
Long, Tra Vinh, Can Tho, and Soc Trang.99 These were also the key areas to
ensure a successful rice harvest. Throughout Zone West the French proposed
various “collecting centers” where they could station guards and organize con-
voys for protection. In Saigon, the French and Cochinchinese government
convened a special commission to study the myriad problems involved in pro-
tecting the harvest. Building and manning posts was both manpower inten-
sive and costly. Furthermore, much of the Cochinchinese transport network
was waterborne. Infantry or armored formations on their own were insuffi-
cient to maintain canal security. Lastly, the provision of convoy security was an
onerous burden. The TFIS’s estimate was that Zone West would need to devote
1,500 men a day just to convoy security. There was, according to Albert Torel,
the commissioner of the Republic for Cochinchina, also the real danger that
increased government activity in the west would only serve to draw Viet Minh
attention and make the situation potentially worse.100
The actual enacting of pacification was supposed to follow a strict division
of labor. In the reinstallation phase, General Nyo’s troops were to launch siz-
able operations to destroy or dislocate large Viet Minh units. Once occupied,
the army would pass the area over to civilian management under whose care it
would be subject to “political purification” with the aid of the GRC.101 Civilian
administrators would revive the local Councils of Notables in order to have via-
ble intermediaries with the people. Villages would also be expected to provide
self-defense forces to man towers and fulfill other static guard duties.102 The reg-
ular army would be thereby left free to continue to seek out “the disaggregation
of the large [Viet Minh] bands” and to provide route security along the critical
thoroughfares. Police functions would be left to the GRC.103
Things did not go as hoped. To begin with, to free up regular forces suf-
ficient to the task (six battalions), General Nyo was forced to disband a num-
ber of posts. Though this was done primarily in “eccentric” regions removed
as far as possible from the city centers and main lines of communication, the
result was, nonetheless, that as the TFIS attempted to tighten its grip on one
area, it perforce loosened it elsewhere—the vanity of control.104 In the east, for
instance, French intelligence estimated that, of the 20,000 people residing in
Thu Dau Mot, 18,000 were paying taxes to the Viet Minh by May.105
The forces available were not enough. Already by March, rather than
engaging in pacification per se, all of Cluzet’s men in Zone West were occupied
Zone East
1BM/ CAMB
1/ 13 DBLE 2BM/CAMB
3/ 69 RA
1/22 RIC
3/22 RIC
Zone 2/2 RTA
Center 1/RTM
2/22 RIC
2/10 RAC 1/10 RAC
BM/1 RIC
3(-)/10 RAC
1st CH Camb
(Chasseurs Cambodgiens)
BM/2 RIC 1/ 4 RAC
2/ 4 RAC
BM/1 RTA
3(-)/ 4 RAC BM/151 RI
2/43 RIC
1/43 RIC
Zone West Régiment de tirailleurs marocains

Régiment de tirailleurs algériens
Régiment d'infanterie coloniale
3/43 RIC
Régiment d'infanterie
Régiment d'artillerie coloniale
Régiment d'artillerie
Demi-brigade de légion étrangère
Cambodian
U Minh Forest
0 40 80
Zones
Miles
Troupes Françaises de l’Indochine du Sud (TFIS) disposition, May 1947. In May TFIS
numbered 37,500 men, of whom 23,500 were Europeans, 11,000 indigenous, and 3,000
North Africans. To these were added 7,300 in the GRC, 9,000 partisans, and the sect mili-
tias. Map by William Keegan. Based on “Situation des forces terrestres en Cochinchine,
Mai 1947,” SHAT, carton 10H984, Service historique de la Défense, CHA, Vincennes.
Copyright © 2018 by the University of Oklahoma Press.
in protecting the rice harvest.106 They could not be everywhere at once. In mid-
May 1947, chi doi 18 and 19 launched a devastating ambush against a convoy
running west of My Tho along RC 16. More than fifty French and Vietnamese
lost their lives. Among the dead were two ministers of the Cochinchinese gov-
ernment, a French lieutenant colonel, and his daughter.107
The French did have some successes, mostly by adapting at the tactical
level. The first was the organization of commando companies, or commandos
de choc.108 A chief problem for all French commanders throughout the war was
a lack of reliable intelligence on the one hand, and a dearth of units capable of
reacting in a timely fashion, should reliable intelligence actually become avail-
able, on the other hand. Commando units addressed both of these problems.
Pioneered by the artillerymen of Zone Center, the units were commanded by
French officers and NCOs, but were recruited from the locals who had expert
knowledge of the terrain, habits of the population, and obvious language
skills. In many places, these companies were the only real unités d’interven-
tion as everything else was tied down in guard duty or route security.109 The
commando units conducted much of the combat in late 1946 and early 1947.
By March 1947 General Nyo mandated that all sectors form commando units.
Colonel Cluzet in Zone West, however, opposed this directive. He did not want
to strip out valuable men from his regulars to form these units while he was
hard-pressed to keep control over his sprawling territorial charge.110 In hind-
sight, he might have fared better with pacification had he more energetically
adopted a commando solution.111
The second major innovation was the formation of the dinassauts. The
dinassauts were adaptable naval formations meant for “brown water” use along
the coastlines and up the rivers and canals of Indochina. These units were offi-
cially formed in August 1947, but were the product of the evolution of French
seaborne tactics in evidence from the beginning of the war, such as the taking
of My Tho in October 1945. The dinassauts in Cochinchina fell under the aus-
pices of the 2nd Amphibious Flotilla and were organized on an ad hoc basis
according to mission need. Generally, dinassauts were a combination of vari-
ous amphibious craft left over from World War II. There were armored cutters,
LCTs, British-made HDMLs (harbor defense motor launches), and eventually
LCVP (Landing Craft, Vehicle, Personnel). The favored vessels were the LSI
(Land Ship, Infantry) and especially the LSIL (Landing Ship, Infantry, Light)
because they could move in shallow water and had high decks that allowed
commanders to maintain visual contact with ground-based elements. The
range of amphibious craft also provided excellent fire support platforms. LCMs
(Landing Craft, Medium) were often outfitted with 20-mm cannon, heavy mor-
tars, and machine-guns. With the dinassaut, French forces could interdict Viet
Minh waterborne supply, but more importantly descend rapidly on points pre-
viously inaccessible, with adequate communications and fire support in tow. A
typical dinassaut would carry its troupes d’intervention in one or two LCMs in
the center of the formation. These men could be put ashore to attack in concert
with naval fire support, or be deployed ahead of the river craft as early warn-
ing for potential ambushes. These versatile groupings became an essential part
of the French war in Cochinchina.112 By 1953 the French had four dinassauts in
Cochinchina, usually three in operation with one in refit and/or training. The
first dinassaut was transferred to the Vietnamese navy in the first part of 1953.113
Other successes in 1947 were simply laid in France’s lap by Viet Minh
heavy-handedness. Albert Torel had been correct about pacification: increased
French activity in Zone West did, in fact, draw Viet Minh attention. The threat
to their rice supply was simply too great.
Though nominally allied with the Viet Minh, the Hoa Hao maintained
deep reservations about Communist influence. The “mad monk” himself,
Huynh Phu So, was more than ambivalent. In April 1946 he had presided over
a meeting of non-Communist nationalist leaders, during which he accused
Nguyen Binh of assassinating rivals and warned against trusting the intentions
of the Hanoi-inspired Viet Minh.114
Suspicious of the Viet Minh and suspected by them as well, Huynh Phu So
fled Saigon in December of 1946, trying to make his way west. The Viet Minh,
hoping to shore up their tottering relationship with the sect, reasoned that a
strong message would cow the unruly Hoa Hao captains and secure the vital
western provinces for their cause. At some point in the spring of 1947 Viet Minh
troops caught the Hoa Hao prophet traveling by river in Long Xuyen, arrested
him, and then executed him in late April. To thwart the Hoa Hao belief that So
would be reincarnated one day, the Viet Minh dismembered his body and bur-
ied it in multiple locations. Whatever they had hoped to gain by the murder of
Huynh Phu So, the outcome was a disaster. Incensed at the death of their leader,
Hoa Hao militias turned their arms on the Viet Minh. In March, Tran Van Soai
and his men, about 2,000 strong, submitted to the French in exchange for rec-
ognition of their religion, arms, and a free hand in their domains. Tran Van
Soai was given a general’s stars and his men began to sweep the Viet Minh from
the Hoa Hao “fief ” at Can Tho.115
And yet, despite significant tactical innovation and the serendipity of the
Hoa Hao defection, pacification in Mien Tay was failing. Pacification is neces-
sarily a time-consuming process. This essential prerequisite for Cluzet’s effort
was therefore missing. Valluy had only given Cluzet until June to accomplish
the majority of his work, a paltry five months. The provinces along the Bassac
River (Vinh Long, Soc Trang, Tra Vinh) were to be dealt with by the end of
March; the lost areas of Ben Tre taken by mid-April; and Bac Lieu down in the
peninsula by start of May. It was simply not feasible. To make matters worse,
Valluy informed Nyo that he would put no additional troops into Cochinchina.
Moreover, by June he would actually take back five battalions for eventual ser-
vice in Annam and in Tonkin.116 This scheme made failure all but a certainty. In
May Valluy called an end to concerted pacification in Cochinchina. He would
take troops instead and expand “operations of conquest” in Annam. As the fall
approached these reductions to troop strength in Cochinchina would become
even more acute as Valluy prepared for his masterstroke against the Viet Minh
during Operation Lea.
What was left to Nyo was to maintain the status quo—keep the Viet Minh
at bay, keep the routes open, the trains running—but attempt no further exten-
sion of the French zone of control.117 Nyo protested this verdict at a meeting of
the Pacification Committee in June. Despite setbacks, the initiative was with the
TFIS, the general believed. In a conversation to be repeated innumerable times
over the coming decades, Nyo contended that his men were killing 2,000 Viet
Minh a month. President Le Van Hoach disagreed. He very much disbelieved
that Nyo’s men were even capable of telling the difference between Viet Minh
and the regular population. Nyo’s “great operations,” he argued, were accom-
plishing little and the GRC was stretched too thin. Better to withdraw to the
population centers where troops could at least be supplied.
Nyo was concerned about the prospect of falling back. It would look bad,
undermine French credibility, and offer easy propaganda victories to the Viet
Minh. Le Van Hoach’s solution was to keep the plan a secret; better to make no
statements about the retraction than attempt to justify it. Falling back quietly
and redoubling the TFIS’s activity on a shorter front could perhaps offset the
public relations problem. There was no other choice, in the president’s mind,
but to abandon those regions too distant to be reasonably kept secure. Striking
what was surely a somber note, Le Van Hoach concluded: “Leave the extremi-
ties to look after themselves, and we will protect the refugees in the centers.”118
The implications were clear. The French position in Cochinchina was weak
and fading. Without time, reinforcements, or some radically new perspective,
there was nothing for Nyo to do but await the outcome of Valluy’s desperate
haymaker in Tonkin and hope everything fell into place. Nyo did not see the
outcome. He left command in July 1947.
ch a p ter 4
L’ossature solide
Latour’s War, 1947–1949
A French general officer, tall with close-cropped hair and the aspect of a
country gentlemen, walked casually about the walled garden of a large
villa in the summer heat of the Saigon evening.1 He was only just arrived from
France and had never been to Indochina before. Suddenly from outside of
the enclosure a grenade flew in and clattered among the flora. It exploded far
enough from the officer that he was not injured. His two Moroccan bodyguards
leapt up and spied the failed assassin. They cut him down with a burst from
their submachine guns. Such was General Pierre Boyer de Latour’s welcome to
Cochinchina as he assumed command of the TFIS in July of 1947.2
What the new commander found at his arrival was a country plagued by
rising insecurity but without the wherewithal to do much about it. By the fall of
1947 the commander-in-chief, Jean Valluy, was preparing for his massive strike
against the Viet Minh main force units in their redoubt northeast of Hanoi,
codenamed Operation Lea. To that end Valluy requisitioned four infantry bat-
talions, an artillery group, and a battalion of combat engineers from Latour’s
command, leaving the TFIS much weakened, reactive, and desperate. Valluy’s
gambit necessitated a further retraction of the French position in Cochinchina,
and though Latour negotiated with his chief to lessen the extent of the retreat
for fear it would abandon too many to Viet Minh revenge, the pullback was
significant.
Lea’s failure was clear by late October. The hope that the Viet Minh leader-
ship could be captured or killed vanished as the bulk of the Communist mili-
tary establishment escaped decisive combat. Increasingly desperate, the interim
high commander, Raoul Salan, decided to switch venues in early 1948 and seek
victory by force of arms in the south. This operation, known as Vega, launched
on 14 February 1948 had as its objective the destruction of Viet Minh forma-
tions in the far-eastern edge of the Plain of Reeds, the so-called place des giongs
from whence the Viet Minh threatened Saigon and facilitated communications
east and west of the center of the country. Despite being the largest operation in
Cochinchina to date, Vega did not succeed in destroying much. It did, however,
83
force the Viet Minh to abandon this base area and refocus their efforts to the
fringes of the country.
Vega’s ambiguous result forced a reevaluation of the war in the south. It
was unlikely that the TFIS would again possess sufficient mobile reserves to
even attempt another such enterprise; nor was it at all obvious that such an
effort would work even if it became possible logistically. Large operations and
surprise rarely go hand in hand. Instead of chasing the ghost of battlefield vic-
tory any longer, Latour opted for a course of action conditioned by his all too
apparent weakness. The retraction of the last year had left the TFIS in control of
the urban centers and the principal routes, but little else. Around this irreduc-
ible core he would build “strong bones” onto which the flesh of future pacified
zones could be grafted and into which the Viet Minh could only penetrate with
utmost difficulty. Almost unconsciously the strategic perspective shifted to one
of self-preservation, to nurse the embryo of French-backed government control
and leave open to the Communists a path to their own defeat. To accomplish
these aims, large portions of Cochinchina and its people would be cast explic-
itly beyond the pale, subject to blockade, harassment, and even starvation.
It was certainly not an optimal solution. French sovereignty in these
neglected areas would hardly even be a rhetorical fiction. More dangerously,
in these base areas the Viet Minh would be largely left free to build their forces
for coming campaigns and in possession of the initiative, whenever they
would choose to take it up. For his part Latour was not entirely comfortable
with this course, whatever its colonial antecedents; it was risk averse and infor-
mation poor. It would require time, money, and an accommodation with an
uncertain strategic future. Nevertheless, the general suppressed his own fears
and the reservations of his subordinates by noting, “the art [of war] is not to
conquer with the means that one would like to have, but with those one actu-
ally possesses.”3
The new commander of forces in Cochinchina in the summer of 1947 was a
newcomer to Indochina, but an old hand of the “Colo.”4 After service during all
four years of the First World War, Latour had transferred to the colonial army
in North Africa, where he served until the outbreak of World War II.5 Most of
this time was spent in Morocco as part of the Service des affaires indigènes,
those officers who provided the cadre for locally raised units for the ongoing
campaigns of pacification against the contumacious Berber tribes. While there,
he of course became acquainted with the legacy of Herbert Lyautey, France’s
first resident-general in Morocco, and his notion of the Maroc utile, namely,
that portion of Morocco that was worth having in contrast to the inhospitable
mountains, which were good for nothing but burying troops and wasting mate-
rial in endless, futile maneuvers.6
latour’s war, 1947–1949 85
Latour was among those who stood aside during the American invasion
of North Africa in November 1942 and then joined the Free French.7 As a lieu-
tenant colonel he assumed command of the 2nd Groupe de tabors marocains
(GTM). The 2nd GTM was composed of Berber tribesmen in a loose, paramil-
itary structure held together by the force of personality of its chef.8 Born and
bred in the rugged Atlas Mountains, they were hardy soldiers, renowned for
excellent marksmanship at a distance and for brutal knife work up close. In the
difficult fights against the Germans in North Africa, Latour and his goumiers
developed a reputation among Americans for skill and an aggressive commit-
ment to offensive action.9 From there Latour led his troops into Corsica and
suffered greatly in the hardscrabble fight to try and stop the German retreat to
Bastia.10 After Corsica, Latour’s goumiers landed in Elba for Operation Brassard.
It was again bitter fighting against an entrenched enemy. The 2nd GTM’s fine
performance during Brassard convinced the French command to assign the
unit to Operation Dragoon, the descent on southern France in August 1944.
In the subsequent drive on Marseille, Latour and the 2nd GTM distinguished
themselves once more in the heavy fighting for the town of Aubagne east of
Marseille and again in the massifs that anchored the outer defenses of Marseille
itself.11 The battle for the Vosges Mountains and the reduction of the Colmar
pocket followed. Latour and his men ended the war on the Voralberg massif
high in the Austrian Alps.12
The future commander of the TFIS was a soldier cut from Herbert
Lyautey’s cloth; and indeed it was a regal cloth embroidered with self-assur-
ance and thinly disguised monarchical tendencies. The champion of French
colonialism’s actual, rather than metaphorical, robe was a lustrous burnoose
in “royal purple, bordered in gold and decorated with the silver stars of his
rank.”13 With few resources and episodic attention paid to the details of his
exploits, Lyautey achieved remarkable feats, especially according to his own
propaganda.14 Along with military skill, Lyautey traded heavily on verve, dip-
lomatic subtlety, and cultural sensibility. Latour’s gait in his sterling white
uniform was certainly less grandiose, but animated by a kindred spirit; the dif-
ferences were of degree, not inclination.
Like Lyautey, Latour believed deeply in the French colonial empire. To his
mind and the minds of the other colonial officers the creation of the empire was
an “act of civilization” and, in the case of Indochina, the only thing holding back
the tide of Communist subversion.15 Whatever horizontal bonds of coerced fra-
ternity Communism offered came at the expense of the natural, vertical link-
ages of French imperial patronage toward its wards. In this sense, there was no
distinction between pacification à la colonial war and what was to be done in
Indochina. Indeed, much of Latour’s attitude toward his labor in Cochinchina
can probably be traced to that long service in the colonial empire, where officers
after Lyautey’s fashion worked many years with meager resources and sporadic
notice from the métropole. Latour despised France’s lukewarm commitment
to her empire and its subjects. His was an honest, thorough paternalism. As he
understood it, France’s role in the world was neither cynical nor self-serving. If
he took any umbrage with France’s mission civilisatrice it was that it was insuf-
ficiently Catholic in tone.16 In the years after the French wars of decolonization
he would complain bitterly about the “rottenness” of the French public and
decried the implicit racism that he believed explained de Gaulle’s withdrawal
from Algeria.17 Though not directly involved in the plot himself, he went so far
as to testify in defense of those who participated in the Algiers putsch of 1961.18
Such was Latour’s commitment to a bygone France.
In 1947, however, the collapse of the French colonial empire was far from a
reality. The French army had dispatched Latour to Indochina, not for his colo-
nial experience but for his demonstrated excellence in mountain warfare. On
arrival he was ferried north to survey by air the foreboding and beautiful karst
mountains of Tonkin. Instead, and for reasons of French military arcanum, the
command returned Latour south to Saigon to take over the TFIS in a country
that can barely brag of a hill.19
Latour took command of a backpedaling, weakening conglomerate of
French and indigenous troops. His role was to maintain an economy of force in
the south while Valluy sought decision in Tonkin. Whether he liked it or not,
and whether or not it undercut people’s belief in the power of French arms, sig-
nificant withdrawals had been necessary. And though Latour argued against
the full range of pullbacks preferred by Valluy, the scope of French withdrawals
in the summer of 1947 was significant. Large tracts, some of which were not too
far removed from urban centers, were left unoccupied. What remained were
thin bands of pseudo-control running along the principal arteries and around
the major cities. In Go Cong district, for example, only a single village out of
forty could boast an active council of notables, a good indicator of the superfi-
ciality of French control.20 In July in nearby My Tho, the commander reported
his total inability to extend the zone of pacification, stating it was nearly impos-
sible to “pacify” areas removed from direct French presence.21 Outside of these
locales were those areas where French troops might periodically show the flag.
Beyond these were the régions évacuées, or as the Viet Minh undoubtedly called
them, home.
Even within the French-controlled zone a steady rumble of violence was
the norm. Can Gioc district, for example, lies north of Go Cong and a short
drive south from Saigon. In October 1947 French troops of the 10th RAC along
with elements from the GRC were responsible for security. Harassment of their
TFIS Evacuations, 1947
Jan. 1947
July 1947
Regions Controlled
Loc Ninh
Tay Ninh
Ben Cat
Cambodia
Thu Dau Bien Hoa
Mot Xuan Loc
Hoc Mon
Sai Gon
Chau Doc Duc Hoa
Cho
Lon
Tan An Ba Ria
Ha Tien Long Xuyen My Tho Go Cong
Sa Dec Cap
Vinh Long Ben Tre
Saint-Jacques
Can Tho
Rach Gia
Tra Vinh
Soc Trang
SOUTH
Bac Lieu
CHINA
SEA
Ca Mau
0 50 100
Miles
Troupes Françaises de l’Indochine du Sud (TFIS) evacuations, 1947. Map by William

Keegan. Based on “Réduction des régions controlées de 1947 à 1949,” SHAT, carton
10H984, Service historique de la Défense, CHA, Vincennes. Copyright © 2018 by the
University of Oklahoma Press.
87
positions was constant; beyond more conventional attacks, on multiple occa-

sions just in this one month alone Viet Minh assailants managed to break into
GRC-held posts and either kidnap or slit the throats of the occupants, usually
fleeing with stolen arms in the process. At night the French relied on unob-
served artillery fire to disperse strong Viet Minh bands assembling under their
noses. Viet Minh agents cut telephone lines, kidnapped and killed people along
some roads, and sabotaged others.22
Latour undertook several initiatives to attempt to stem the bleeding of his
command. He imposed sharp new guidelines to minimize the loss of weap-
ons to the enemy, as the Viet Minh equipped themselves on the main with
what they stole from the French.23 To address the problem of insecurity along
Cochinchina’s roads, Latour made them the charge of the commanders of the
armored forces and relieved the zones of their maintenance. He gave each unit a
set of roads to open on a weekly schedule, allowing at least a semblance of traf-
fic to flow out from Saigon. Under this scheme, for example, the 5th Cuirassiers
opened and secured the route from Saigon to Dalat on Mondays and Thursdays
and cleared the way to Ban Me Thuot on Tuesdays and Wednesday.24
His next move was to expand and reinforce the system of surrogates begun
under Nyo. He started in September by moving eight Cao Dai “flying brigades”
out to the Ca Mau peninsula to make up for French retractions and to divert
attention from the brutal fight the Viet Minh were still waging against their Hoa
Hao defectors.25 Also, like in Tonkin, Cochinchina had a substantial minority
of Catholics around whom Latour believed he could build a concerted node
of support for the French-backed government. Their most significant presence
was in the province of Ben Tre where they constituted perhaps 10 percent of
the population.26 Ben Tre also had a wonderful go-between in the form of Jean
Leroy, whom we met earlier during the initial French attacks to retake My Tho.
A métis, (i.e., of mixed French and Vietnamese stock), Leroy had served in the
Garde indochinoise during the Japanese occupation.27 In February 1946 Leroy
led a band of Vietnamese partisans and seized the island of An Hoa in Ben Tre
province from the Viet Minh. He then was elected as an administrative delegate
from Binh Dai, his hometown and a region with a strong Catholic presence.28
Having proved his reliability and competence, Leroy was authorized to
form three “Catholic brigades” in October 1947 with a total strength of about
2,000 men. They would be remunerated according to the Cao Dai pay scales
and put to work primarily in Ben Tre.29 The actual Catholic bishops of Ben
Tre were alarmed by Leroy’s activities. His motto for his troops—Pro Deo et
Patria (For God and Country)—undermined the studied neutrality they hoped
to maintain vis-à-vis the Viet Minh. Leroy obliged them only slightly by chang-
ing the name of his units to the Unités mobiles de defense des Chrétientés
latour’s war, 1947–1949 89
(Mobile Units for the Defense of Christendom) or UMDC.30 Whatever their

title, Leroy’s men proved quite capable. By April 1948 the UMDC would expand
to ten brigades and move some of their elements outside of Ben Tre.31 Within
Ben Tre itself Leroy pursued a dual strategy of reform measures—that is, build-
ing schools and clinics, and imposing rent controls—and exemplary violence.32
It is hard to gauge which was more effective, but results were nonetheless forth-
coming and the paix Leroy (Leroy peace) soon prevailed. In August 1948 Latour
named Leroy a capitaine suppletif; by February 1949 he would be a chef de batail-
lon and virtual master of Ben Tre, with his headquarters at An Hoa complete
with a Vietnamese staff and a training center for his troops.33
The last initiative was a reorganization of Latour’s staff. The new com-
mander found the TFIS staff in Saigon bloated and unwieldy, stuck in poor
habits, and slow to respond to changing situations. Against considerable oppo-
sition Latour ordered the size of the staff reduced by a third. He then relieved a
major source of that opposition and replaced his chief of staff with a new man,
Lieutenant-colonel Édouard Méric. Méric was the commander of the Ben Tre
sector at the time of his elevation. It was probably through him that Latour
became aware of the opportunities to be afforded by using Jean Leroy. He was a
long service officer of the 3rd REI (Régiment étranger d’infanterie), but was an
odd choice for the position.34 Latour admitted in his memoirs that Méric was a
poor organizer—never a good thing for a chief of staff—and so had to provide
him with an administratively savvy subordinate in the form of an artillery lieu-
tenant-colonel named Radix.
What Méric did have, according to Latour, was the “gift of imagination.”35
He was a welter of ideas—some good, some bad, all interesting. In his capacity
as the second in command of the 3rd REI Méric had conducted an extensive
review of the situation in Ben Tre at the end of 1946.36 What he found was an
army struggling to adapt its skill at “European war” to the exigencies of the con-
flict in Cochinchina. Commanders at the level of sub-sector and quarter had as
their base mission the destruction of Viet Minh bands operating within their
areas of operation. They did not, however, have the means to accomplish this.
Ben Tre, like most of Cochinchina, is a swamp, crisscrossed with rivers, canals,
and rachs. Viet Minh bands could run amuck and then easily retreat beyond
reach by burning the simple wooden bridges that spanned most waterways.
He determined that local commanders were not neglecting their mission; they
simply had no other real choice. Méric noted that just the maintenance of their
posts and a semblance of route security required all their energies.
He began with straightforward material recommendations. Line infantry
needed river craft down to the level of the quarter. Troops required light vehi-
cles, like jeeps, not heavy trucks likely to get stuck if they ventured even slightly
off the roads. Engineers needed to replace rickety wooden structures with sub-
stantial metal treadway bridges to facilitate traffic and patrols. And finally those
patrols, often small and operating far from support, needed radios.
There were deeper criticisms as well. At base Méric found the French
modus operandi for Indochina wrongheaded. The assumptions of war based
on the experience of World War II needed to be reevaluated. The TFIS required
a reordering of perspective, far beyond mere technical or tactical adaptation.
Rather shockingly for a Frenchman, Méric encouraged his compatriots to try
and think of themselves as American-style “entrepreneurs.” It was even more
off-putting coming from a legionnaire. The Legion had a sterling reputation
for marching straight into the teeth of a fight and battering down opponents
or dying in the attempt; most of the art of subtlety or finesse, however, was
someone else’s bailiwick. And yet Méric argued that, stripped of operational
preconceptions, an officer so oriented could take stock of what was actually at
hand and come to sensible solutions, reduce “overhead” where possible, and
carry on an effort solely where it would be most “profitable.” As Latour would
later order, Méric suggested that large staffs—appropriate to highly articulated,
resource-intensive European war—be drastically reduced in size.
Méric also argued that officers no longer think so much about “time” as
a crucial factor in their operations. Of course conventionally speaking, time
in war is crucial. No less than Napoleon himself had defined strategy as “the
art of making use of time and space.” And for Napoleon time was the more
critical element. “I am less concerned about the latter than the former,” he
quipped. “Space we can recover, lost time never.”37 World War II had borne
out the importance of time. Rapidity of planning and action were generally
better than minute preparation and ponderous operations. The French them-
selves learned this lesson the hard way. Onerous preparations in the form of the
Maginot Line and its accompanying doctrine of “methodical,” defensive bat-
tle, born from their brutal losses and offensively stillborn World War I experi-
ence, served them badly in the opening gambit of a new style of war in 1940.38
The Nazis reduced once-proud France, the victor of World War I, to a satel-
lite state. This first-order failure thoroughly discredited defensiveness in all its
forms and facets within de Gaulle’s Free French. To the metropolitan military
mindset, therefore, Méric was advocating for a return to the defeatist tenden-
cies of 1940. In his report he argued that it was more important to “act contin-
ually and patiently” (emphasis in original) than to move quickly, “for the war
[would be] long.”
In any other circumstance this perspective would have likely raised eye-
brows. Colonial and metropolitan views on warfare could diverge rather sig-
nificantly and only came forcibly crashing back together with the amalgamation
latour’s war, 1947–1949 91
of all forces available within the loose structure of the Free French.39 But the
senior officers in Cochinchina were of colonial stock, as was Méric. In fact, in
his report he made explicit reference to what the French had accomplished over
many years of dutiful labor in North Africa. Like in Morocco, Méric thought it
wise to establish as soon as possible a Service des affaires indigènes capable of
providing cadres and cultural experts for locally raised troop contingents; the
Moroccan experience had shown that local troops without proper oversight
were notoriously unreliable.40 This was classic French colonial warfare, the
hallmark of which had always been to “recruter sur place.”41 Indeed, most of the
pacification of Morocco had to be accomplished with troops raised in North
Africa. With the exception of the Foreign Legion, large bodies of European
troops were rarely on hand, especially after the initial conquest. And so colo-
nial officers had become accustomed to working closely with and adapting to
local attitudes in order to make the most of the soldiers available to them. Many
officers in Indochina, however, were dismissive of partisan (local) troops. Méric
chastised them for acting toward partisans as if they were “discount soldiers”
suitable only for manual labor. In his (and Latour’s) view these men were indis-
pensable to the task in Cochinchina. As in earlier colonial campaigns, Méric
did not believe France would ever supply a sizable enough quantity of metro-
politan infantry for use overseas. It would be up to commanders on the ground
to find their own troops and over time add them to the “ossature solide” pro-
vided by the regulars.
Méric did not believe this would be easy. At the level of the sector and
sub-sector commanders would need to focus their energies on constructing
posts and “effectively controlling” the nearby population. From there would
proceed the drive to open and control Cochinchina’s transport network, both
terrestrial and waterborne, by the construction of new posts along the criti-
cal arteries. What commanders would not be able to do was destroy signifi-
cant enemy formations. This, Méric concluded, could not be accomplished at
less than the regimental level; in other words, with more troops than were ever
available for mobile operations.
Even this final caveat did not remain strictly true. The early portion of 1948
would afford Latour and his new chief of staff an attempt at the destruction of
the principal Viet Minh redoubt at the far eastern edge of the Plain of Reeds.
With the failure of Operation Lea—the attempt to decapitate the Communist
hierarchy in Tonkin—the commander-in-chief, Jean Valluy, was recalled to
France. Sadly for Latour it seems the failure of Lea had convinced Valluy that
a slow march begun in Cochinchina was now the only way forward.42 His
interim replacement, however, was Raoul Salan, the operational commander
for Lea. Salan carried out his former boss’s intent in terms of geography, but
not in terms of tone. Seeing how near-run a thing Lea had been (Salan had
quite nearly captured Ho Chi Minh and his principal military commander, Vo
Nguyen Giap) the corps’s new chef opted for a similar gambit in the south.43 The
place des giongs was the obvious target. There the leadership of Zone VII had
ensconced itself along with a number of its principal units and the main por-
tion of its logistical and governmental infrastructure. The goals were to destroy
the main units stationed in this region, to “ruin” the area for Viet Minh further
use, and if possible capture or kill Nguyen Binh.44 To this end Salan dispatched
south four infantry battalions and an artillery group.
Latour protested that the time was not right, that a rapid decision was
not possible. Salan overrode him and pressed forward, hoping to exploit the
remaining days of the dry season in the south. They dubbed the operation
Vega. With aid from the north Latour amassed nine infantry and two para-
chute battalions in addition to significant quantities of artillery, aviation, and
riverine assets, or 4,800 men all told.45 If successful, Vega would tear a gaping
hole in the Communist war effort. As the French suspected and would learn
more fully after the operation, the targeted area was home to virtually every-
thing Nguyen Binh had been building in Cochinchina since his arrival. Beyond
Binh’s own headquarters, the region of the giongs was home to strong elements
of eight different chi doi as well as numerous independent companies. There
were also Binh’s military school for cadet training, his topographical section,
supply headquarters including financial section and armaments manufactur-
ing operation, prison camp, Viet Minh judicial section, and propaganda arm.46
Latour gave direction of the operation to his sector commander for Hoc
Mon and the head of the 13th DBLE, Lieutenant-colonel Gabriel Brunet de
Sairigné. The TFIS commander had met Sairigné in November 1944 in the
Vosges Mountains when his Legion battalion came to the aid of Latour’s goumi-
ers at a critical moment amid a driving snowstorm.47 From an old family of the
Vendée, de Sairigné was a force within the Foreign Legion. He had entered the
Second World War as a lieutenant and left it a lieutenant colonel. During that
time, he participated in nearly every Legion operation, from the descent on
Narvik in 1940 to his escape to England when France fell, where he pledged to
“fire the last cartridge” if necessary against the Germans, to Bir Hakim in Libya
in 1942, to the liberation of Lyon in 1944.48 At the time of Vega he was only thir-
ty-five years old, but certainly well versed in the craft of warfighting.
Sairigné knew Vega would be tough going. In the first place the element
of surprise—so important if the goals of the operation were to be achieved—
would be a difficult thing to maintain. A similar, though much smaller venture,
had been launched into the giongs in 1947 at nearly the same time, with thor-
oughly mixed results. The much larger scale of Vega would make maintaining
latour’s war, 1947–1949 93
the element of surprise even more difficult. Sairigné limited aerial reconnais-
sance of the area to help prevent tipping his hand, but it would be extremely
difficult to hide the arrival of reinforcements from Tonkin or the movement of
the two squadrons of amphibious landing craft (thirty-six vehicles)—or crabes
as the French called them—from their yards near Saigon. There was also the
movement of elements of four dinassauts and three armored platoons, meant
to secure the waterborne and land routes to the various jumping-off points.
The operation itself was conceived of as a “complete encirclement” of the
giongs region beginning on 14 February 1948. On the 14th the units were to
step off and attack toward their objectives, trying their utmost to bring to battle
and destroy as many Viet Minh units as possible. The next two days would wit-
ness an assiduous combing over of the landscape for caches, encampments, and
remaining enemy forces. By the 17th and 18th, having captured or destroyed
anything of value to the enemy, the battalions would fall back on their start-
ing points and withdraw. For a scheme of maneuver Sairigné envisioned three
sweeping pincer movements, the main effort of which went into the far south
where the French rightly suspected the largest portion of Zone VII personnel
to be located. The highly choreographed maneuver was perfectly emblematic of
French tactical proclivities at the time. Not only would ground-based infantry
battalions move in on three sides, but airborne troops were dropped to seal the
trap, while the amphibious squadrons smashed across the water-logged terrain
to tighten the noose and evacuate the wounded. Sairigné declared the entire
area of the operation to be a zône de guerre. Anyone attempting to flee could
be shot.49
The actual execution was problematic. Paratroops landing on Drop Zone
(DZ) #2 found it covered in anti-personnel bamboo stakes. These were utterly
ineffective. The second wave of troops into DZ 1, however, found their jump
delayed by a thick haze over the objective. When they did go in the descent
was far too rapid (the French attributed it to the heat of the day). Numerous
paratroopers were seriously injured; the crabes had to evacuate them. The line
battalions found themselves more opposed by the marshy terrain than by the
Viet Minh. The 3rd/13th DBLE, the Annamite Battalion, the 5th RTM, and the
amphibious units encountered some opposition, but not anywhere close to
what they had expected or desired. In total the French killed only 150 combat-
ants and suffered ten killed in action (KIA) themselves, though eight of those
were killed in the botched jump into DZ 1. The combat that did occur was hin-
dered by problems of communication and coordination. The undifferentiated
swath of swampland left maps all but useless. Aerial photography helped in
terms of navigation but seriously handicapped commanders’ ability to request
and adjust indirect fire support, since their photos did not allow for easily laying
Follow-up Movements
Initial Movements
Loc Giang
RTA
TM 1st/
5th/R
An Ninh
G. Soc
PC Vega North
MEO
1st/B Hiep Hoa
C m do Co.
TA &
2nd/R Queo Ba
G. Loa 13th
3rd/ LE
DZ #1 DB
Vaic
CRABES G. A'rat
o
(LVTs) 7th/RTA
Orie
G. Dinh
ntal
DZ #2
Binh Thanh 1st/13th
DBLE
RTM
4th/
Bin Hoah
ANNAMITE M
DZ #3
BN /RT
4th
l
ana PC Vega South
uC
aC
Tr 0 1.5 3
Miles
Operation Vega, February 1948. Map by William Keegan. Based on “Ordre d’Opéra-
tion: VEGA,” 12 Feb 1948, SHAT, carton 10H4950, Service historique de la Défense, CHA,
Vincennes. Copyright © 2018 by the University of Oklahoma Press.
94
latour’s war, 1947–1949 95
on map-oriented artillery batteries. Radio problems greatly handicapped avia-

tion support. Units could not maintain contact with aircraft flying in support.
Fighter-bombers frequently could not identify the unit for which they were
searching, or their targets. Morane observation planes attempted to ameliorate
this situation ad hoc by guiding attack aircraft on to their targets, but they gen-
erally flew too high to do this effectively; it seems the coordination of air sup-
port using this method had not been practiced beforehand.50
For the purposes of Vega, however, even had the various arms been more
closely coordinated, it is unlikely it would have much mattered. The simple fact
was that Nguyen Binh and his men were, by and large, no longer there when
Vega began. Prisoner interrogations conducted during and after the operation,
as well as a trove of captured documents, made clear that Binh had been appre-
hensive about an operation directed against the giongs for the previous two or
three months. Whatever exactly it was that tipped off Binh to the imminent
approach of Vega remains unknown; it was probably a number of things in
concert. In any event, Binh ordered the evacuation of the region on 9 February.
Binh himself did not leave until the 12th.51 Most of the units to the south began
to withdraw on the night of the 13th, just as Vega was set to begin. The Viet
Minh rear guard that Binh left in place amounted to no more than four hun-
dred or five hundred men, and most of these still managed to escape. On the
level of its first goal—the destruction of the armed forces of Zone VII—Vega
must be counted an abject failure.
Sairigné could claim much more success for the second goal: the destruc-
tion of the Zone VII base area. Despite their suspicions the Viet Minh did not
begin their withdrawal early enough to save the entirety of their war matériel.
The destruction was extensive. Sairigné savaged Binh’s armament production
facilities, no small concern for a Viet Minh organization that relied on local
manufacture for a great deal of its weaponry, particularly explosives. Along
with the components for thousands of grenades, the French seized mines, mor-
tar rounds, cartridges for small arms, and six hundred kilograms of high-grade
dynamite. The French also captured and destroyed building materials, gasoline,
and six unit hospitals’ worth of hard-to-come-by medical supplies. Most dev-
astating, perhaps was the loss of rice and the ability to transport it. Sairigné’s
men captured thirty-two junks (most of which were loaded with rice) and one
hundred sampans. They also seized approximately 250 tons of rice elsewhere, in
addition to sizable quantities of salt, sugar, eggs, and milk. Everything that the
French could not carry away they put to the torch.52
Though the TFIS made no attempt to occupy the giongs, Vega forced the
cadres and troops of Zone VII to abandon their principal base area. The Nam
Bo committee continued to operate out of the western reaches of the Plain of
Reeds for a time, but never again would they have the same number of forces
so close to the center of Cochinchina. In coming years this loss would facilitate
the split of the Viet Minh resistance into eastern and western halves without
the luxury of a centralized hub through which communications could be real-
ized. The advantage of the area had always been that it offered accessibility to
the heartland of Cochinchina while remaining inaccessible to their adversaries.
Vega certainly challenged that assumption. After the operation ended it was too
difficult and too risky to remain there in force any longer.53
Viet Minh revenge came quickly. In the early morning on 1 March the con-
voy for Dalat departed Saigon loaded with soldiers and civilians alike, among
them a sizable portion of Vietnamese women and children. Lieutenant-colonel
de Sairigné also traveled with the convoy that day. He was in his jeep with two
other legionnaires. Behind them they pulled a trailer carrying a baby bed. It
was for his new daughter, who was living with his wife in the relative calm of
the popular resort city.54 As they traveled to the east of Bien Hoa, just near the
beginning of the mountainous region of Annam the convoy fell under fierce and
repeated attack. Huỳnh Văn Nghệ, the commander of chi doi 10, selected his
site well. The road there became thin and tortuous. It was dominated by high
ground, and thick brush obscured the route from aerial observation. The convoy
itself was nearly seven kilometers long and its occupants fatigued. Harassment
and blockages of the route closer to Saigon had gravely delayed their movement.
As they arrived at the ambush spot it was already late in the day.
The attack began when the convoy commander’s vehicle, a scout-car, ran
over a mine around 1630 hours. The commander was immediately killed in
the explosion and his radio, one of the few in the convoy, destroyed. Huynh
Van Nghe’s men, nearly five hundred strong and positioned above the road
where they could survey the action, immediately opened fire, raking the now
trapped vehicles with machine-gun fire and grenades.55 In the opening fusil-
lade, Sairigné was shot through the neck, arms, and legs.56 With vehicles burn-
ing everywhere and unable to extricate itself from the kill zone, the convoy’s
escort troops struggled to maintain their position. The terrain hindered effec-
tive radio communication, as did a rainstorm that broke over the beleaguered
travelers. Distress calls had to be relayed from post to post in order to reach
back to Bien Hoa, the closest station from which aid could come. This process
took nearly an hour. When news reached Saigon another forty-five minutes
after that, attack aviation scrambled out of Tan Son Nhut, but could make out
little in the deep jungle of the ambush site.
Meanwhile two battalions—one paratroop, one Moroccan—set out from
Bien Hoa. Additional reinforcements were called for from Xuân Lộc to the
south of the ambush, but the storm prevented the relay of instructions until
latour’s war, 1947–1949 97
1900 hours. The relief forces did not reach the stricken convoy for another two
hours. They found the convoy a collection of smoking hulks.
Latour flew into the site early the next morning. There were nearly sixty
destroyed vehicles littered along the deathly stretch of road.57 In his memoirs
the general recounts the “staggering spectacle” of the burned-out convoy lit-
tered with the “half-charred” bodies of women and children.58 The Viet Minh
kidnapped a great many people as well. Over the next few days Latour directed
up to five battalions into the forests to search out and find the missing. The
Moroccans, in particular, caught their quarry unawares and forced the Viet
Minh to flee in haste, leaving most of their prisoners (over 140 people) behind
in the process.59 Not everyone was found, however. Ten French civilians dis-
appeared into the jungle never to return, as did fifteen Vietnamese. Forty-six
civilians, mostly Vietnamese, died in the attack. Military losses were five killed,
eleven wounded, and one missing.60 Sairigné’s body was never recovered.
Vega was a failure; the attack on the Dalat convoy was a professional and
personal tragedy for Latour. Several days after the attack he presided over a
memorial service for Sairigné. Speaking in front of the late officer’s widow,
Latour intimated that an “immense grief ” had descended over the French
Expeditionary Corps. It certainly descended over Latour. Attempts to destroy
the Viet Minh rebellion would not do any longer. Large-scale opérations d’en-
vergure simply required too much. They were resource and manpower inten-
sive; but more importantly, they asked too much of the TFIS in terms of
intelligence and secrecy. Even if the Deuxième bureau (French military intel-
ligence) could accurately locate the enemy, there was no guarantee they could
keep the secret of their own designs.
In short, these types of operations hung on prediction, and predictions,
Herbert Simon, the Nobel Prize-winning economist, reminds us, “are com-
monly the weakest point in our armor.”61 Our ability to forecast the future is bad
enough with unthinking phenomena; add in a dynamic, adaptable enemy and
achieving the necessary prerequisites usually recedes beyond our grasp. Military
operations, indeed most human problems, are “ill structured” or, to use today’s
more common parlance, complex in that they defy rigid quantification and are
not subject to any real discernible laws by which fixed, prescriptive action can be
maintained. The response to this kind of situation can come in one of two forms:
the active response is to invest massive resources to overwhelm the issue; the
more apparently passive is to restrict the size of the problem for the time being,
engage in simpler, well-rehearsed activities, and wait for the situation to develop,
in this case for the opponent to demonstrate some weakness.62
In the near term, trying another Vega was an impossibility. Following
close on the heels of the Dalat convoy disaster several companies of Hoa Hao
dissenters, who objected to the French-sponsored leadership of Tran Van

Soai, killed their French advisors and deserted their posts.63 By mid-April the
so-called “Hoa Hao crisis” had become so dire that Latour was compelled to
send the bulk of his operational reserve to western Cochinchina to salvage the
situation and assure Tran Van Soai’s authority.64
By necessity, opportunity, and inclination Latour began a restrained pro-
gram of pacification in Cochinchina that would cover the rest of his tenure.
He was aided in this by the appointment of a new commander-in-chief, Roger
Blaizot. Blaizot took command in April and resolved once more to carry on
the war decisively in Tonkin. For Latour this would mean the diminution of
resources again, but also a measure of salutary neglect as to the manner in
which he carried on his campaign. Blaizot was occupied fully with Tonkin.
This disinterest—Latour chose to interpret it as confidence—also allowed the
TFIS commander to serve simultaneously as commissioner for the republic in
Cochinchina, thus combining both military and civil power into one man, a
perhaps not-unconscious throwback to the days when French admirals ruled in
the south.65 What happened in Cochinchina could be of only episodic concern
to the commander up north.66
What did happen was not, strictly speaking, planned. In many respects
Latour’s pacification methodology was directly inspired by previous French
colonial endeavors. As he wanted to carry it out, Latour’s scheme conformed
to a typical tâche d’huile (oil slick) concept, and was therefore inherently
offensive, albeit slow to develop. Much like Lyautey or Joseph Gallieni, Latour
wanted to “submerge [a] province with massive regular formations” in order
to destroy the rebel bands located therein. From there the troops would seize
the vital points, fortify them, establish route security, and begin the process
of building local government with an eye to creating security based on locally
recruited agents. These men would eventually be formed into self-defense units
and security for their homes placed in their charge. Once security was firmly
established, regular formations would be withdrawn and placed back into the
masse de pacification. It was then only a matter of repeating the steps above in
the adjacent province.67
As a practical matter, even this scheme was not executable. Surplus for-
mations were never on hand in sufficient quantities. Local crises or northern
adventures continued to sap TFIS reserves. The Hoa Hao crisis has already been
mentioned. Then in August Latour was compelled to send a battalion away to
restore order in Phnom Penh. This was later increased to three battalions.68 In
October 1948 Latour would lose more troops, three more battalions to Tonkin
in addition to an artillery group and engineers for a total of about 3,000 men.
He complained bitterly about the constant demands made on his command for
latour’s war, 1947–1949 99
the benefit of the war in Tonkin. “Before such a shortage of means,” he asked
Blaizot plaintively, “how can I maintain the current position and not renounce
all new extensions?”69
The answer, of course, was that he could not. For all intents and purposes
Latour’s focus could never really move beyond the so-called old provinces, the
core territories of Cochinchina, and the routes that connected them to the out-
side world. It was a thoroughly defensive orientation. In most of these areas
three-quarters of the troops on hand were entirely tied down in static defense
duties. Each battalion was supposed to maintain at least one company free as
a mobile reserve, but this did not always prove feasible. In Zone East, Latour
lamented, a battalion was lucky to have a reserve of more than a section.70
Latour’s problem was directly analogous to what his chief of staff, Méric,
had observed in 1946 at the level of the sector. It is a consummate feature of
complex problems that they display a certain self-similarity regardless of scale.
In more conventional conflicts like World War II, we would expect that the
higher one goes in the chain of command the more difficult the problems faced,
whereas the subcomponents of an army (or any organization) are specifically
designed to handle smaller, simpler components of the more intractable whole;
that is to say, Eisenhower’s job was infinitely more difficult conceptually than
was that of a tank battalion commander.71 What France and later the United
States faced in Vietnam was a situation in which complexity inhered in the sit-
uation to the same degree, regardless of the scale from which one observed the
issue. Though more people and greater territory were at stake for Latour than
for his zone or sector commanders, the contours of their problems were other-
wise perfectly symmetrical and equally vexing.72 Under such circumstances the
normal ability of hierarchical organizations to break down and manage prob-
lem solving is severely impaired.73
Despite the continued rhetoric of hunting down and destroying “rebel
bands” at every level, in practice this was not realizable. Appreciation of their
limitations on the part of sector commanders was too profound. They had to
content themselves with something less than the putative object of war, that
is, that the “aim is to disarm the enemy;” that at base war is “an act of force
to compel the enemy to do our will.”74 Of course Clausewitz directly adds the
caveat to this apparent prescription that “[s]o long as I have not overthrown my
opponent I am bound to fear he may overthrow me. Thus I am not in control.”
The natural military response—and we might add Enlightenment response—to
that unenviable position is to redouble one’s efforts to assert control. What the
French were learning, however, was how to live out of control, as it were.
It is interesting to note how much of Méric’s remarks from 1946 were
stated in economic terms. We have already mentioned his invocation of an
entrepreneurial spirit as an important aspect of success for the French officer.

Latour even picked up on this language, calling the various aligned sects “véri-
table entrepreneurs de pacification.”75 Méric employed this terminology again
when he discussed the course that sector commanders had adopted given their
inability to come to grips with the Viet Minh. Their emphasis on route security
and the maintenance of their own positions Méric called the “solution optima,”
the optimum solution.
It was not, in fact, the optimum solution, far from it. Clearly the best of
worlds would have been for the commanders to hunt down and destroy the
Viet Minh bands in their areas of operation. Of the range of conceivable out-
comes, that would have been optimum. What Méric meant, however, was that
the course of action adopted was the best available to the commanders, given
their limited means and limited intelligence about enemy location and activi-
ties. It was not “optimum,” it was “satisfactory,” with local commanders perforce
abandoning optimal solutions in favor of good enough ones. They were, to bor-
row Herbert Simon’s neologism, “satisficing.” This idea is, in brief, that humans
can rarely pursue or even devise optimal solutions, and so as a matter of course
more frequently opt for suboptimal behaviors that nevertheless meet certain
minimal or satisfactory criteria.76 We cannot really blame Méric for groping
after this word. After all, it did not really exist in 1946. Simon would only begin
to lay this important groundwork for behavioral economics and its associated
terminology in 1947 with his publication of Administrative Behavior: A Study of
Decision-making Processes in Administrative Organizations.
It was a seminal work. Prior to Simon classical economics77—the lan-
guage that Méric sought to borrow—concerned itself primarily with the notion
of homo economicus (economic man), the powerfully rational man of the
Enlightenment capable of ordering his own future, selecting with near-perfect
information from among various alternatives so as to maximize his own util-
ity, usually represented as profit.78 Economic theory generally examined the
extension of economic man, the firm, and how it related to its external environ-
ment—that is, competition with other firms within a market system. Simon’s
work changed the focus from the interactions of firms with one another to the
actions within the firm itself.79 With this change came the observation that
organizations frequently, even usually, content themselves with far less than the
pursuit of optimal solutions, and that given the severe limitations under which
human rationality actually operates, the continued pursuit of optimal solutions
can be incredibly dangerous, for it proposes a model of human skill and apti-
tude at variance with man’s more limited reality.80
It is quite notable then that Méric chose to couch his strategic analysis
in classical economic terms even as he grasped for something beyond the
latour’s war, 1947–1949 101
standard formulations. That Herbert Simon was much more famously doing
the same thing a world away perhaps speaks to a powerful, if minority, strain of
thinking among some about an era humbled by the failures of man to prevent
the horrors of World War II and less confident about humanity’s ability to plan,
pave, and parade its way bravely into the future.
This was not, however, the majority report, especially among policy mak-
ers, high government officials, and senior allied military leaders. For these
groups the war seemed to confirm the powers of governments given adequate
direction and coordination. In general the years following the war were typ-
ified by “general planning optimism” in the field of economics.81 These were,
of course, the decades of the “Keynesian revolution.”82 In strategy as well, the
U.S. drive to victory, its ability to see the end of the war from the beginning,
was as remarkable as it was exceptional.83 This optimism even extended into
the French military where, one would assume, a good deal of sangfroid should
have prevailed after the travails of World War II.84 Of course, the French edu-
cational system and general culture had long vaunted the opposite perspective.
Gallic schooling in science and engineering, that system which had produced
so many army officers, stressed centralization and an abstract Cartesian ethic
that downplayed the value of the independent entrepreneur.85
But the endgame is not always clear, and neither are the policy prescrip-
tions. French policy in Indochina was maddeningly opaque for the command-
ers involved. In the first few years of the war French policy toward Cochinchina
had devolved upon the high commissioner who, as we have seen, chose to
pursue a goal of an independent, separatist Cochinchina. By late 1947, how-
ever, as Latour and Méric were trying to navigate the parameters of their situa-
tion, French policy shifted once more. As French political leadership despaired
of a workable military solution to the Indochina problem, they hoped for a
diplomatic coup to restore their fortunes. French leadership, particularly
Léon Pignon, posited that a significant plurality of independence-minded
Vietnamese could be pulled away from the Viet Minh, if a leader of acceptable
nationalist credentials could be found. Their solution was Emperor Bao Dai.
Though a profligate playboy, he enjoyed not inconsiderable support among
certain non-Communist nationalist factions within Vietnam. Moreover, if
the French would opt for an independent, unified Vietnam with Bao Dai as
its head, they could effectively rebrand the war to the world as less a colonial
struggle and more a fight against international Communism.86
The French reached an initial agreement with Bao Dai in December 1947.
A formal, provisional centralized government representing Tonkin, Annam,
and Cochinchina came into being in March 1948.87 Whatever increased legit-
imacy it offered the French effort, it also scuttled the hopes of the separatist
bourgeoisie of Saigon and irrevocably committed the French to the defeat of

the Viet Minh. Now French and Vietnamese sovereignties were on the line in
all parts of Vietnam. Any chance, no matter how slim, of prioritizing within
the three kys was gone. By opting for the “Bao Dai solution” the French openly
accepted the Viet Minh premise that a unified, independent Vietnam was the
future and committed themselves to defending an ideal entirely different from
that which had animated the start of the war.
For his part, Latour thought the decision to unite Vietnam was wrong.
It undermined Cochinchina’s special status as a French colony, and prevented
its full exploitation as the “weak point of the Viet Minh” infrastructure. As he
understood it, the union of the three kys strategically committed France to
defending all of Indochina. A step-wise war, beginning in Cochinchina and
only gradually extending back toward the north, went from an unlikely course
of action to total political infeasibility.88 It also meant that Latour could not
count on serious reserves ever being put at his disposal. His desire to initiate a
colonial tâche d’huile scheme would never get off the ground.
Raymond Aron, the French journalist, political scientist, philosopher,
interpreter of Clausewitz, and scourge of intellectuals, has argued “to sur-
vive, this is to conquer.”89 He made this assertion in relation to the prospect of
thermonuclear war between the United States and the Soviet Union and their
attendant economic systems. But his basic point was that it was extraordinarily
difficult to imagine an active strategy involving nuclear arms that could bring
about the downfall of the Soviet Union without also destroying the globe. Aron
contended, however, that the West did not need to conquer the Communist
world. It could afford to wait. Communism, according to Aron, could do no
such thing. The so-called laws of history dictated constant war, or the credible
threat of the same.90 Communism’s existence was predicated on the assumed
antagonism of the capitalist, “imperialist” system and its struggle to eradi-
cate them. Of course, the paradox of nuclear weapons meant that there was
no clear, direct way to this end. The “revolution” of the proletariat, bound to
arrive by certainty of historic materialism, would never arrive. Rhetoric could
never be made reality and so ideology would wear thin until such point as
the Communist world was forced to recognize the West’s right to exist. At the
point at which the Soviet system was compelled to admit its “own limitation,”
Communism as an ideological force “would be dead.”91
By dint of circumstance this notion was what the TFIS had to contemplate
in 1948. Survival was paramount; everything else hovered out of reach. The out-
come, as we have hinted, was a folding in on itself of operational perspective
and, for the time being, the shunting aside of long-term questions about defeat-
ing the Viet Minh. The short-term answer was to build, to firm up the ossature
latour’s war, 1947–1949 103
of the TFIS position, as Méric had noted and recommended. Unlike the nuclear
dilemma discussed above, it was not that the TFIS could count on the Viet
Minh never to attack; far from it. What they could do that the Viet Minh could
not, however, was opt to survive and have that be enough. As we shall see later,
the Viet Minh ideology of revolution could not and would not abide the con-
tinued existence of a non-Communist Vietnamese state. The logic of revolution
would not allow it. It had to be destroyed; their attack would come eventually.
Though it does not seem the French in Cochinchina were thinking explicitly in
these terms, by turning it on themselves and preparing a powerful, defensive
core, the TFIS was making sure it would be successful when the attack finally
did arrive.
Discussing adaptive systems, Herbert Simon would call this an empha-
sis on homeostasis, to wit, those “mechanisms that make [a] system relatively
insensitive to the environment.”92 In organizational terms Simon labeled this
manner of activity coordination by feedback as opposed to coordination by plan.
In the first method organizational behavior, however affected by routine, is
more open-ended. The latter methodology relies on “established schedules”
and is relatively insensitive to new information, or the lack thereof.93 Though it
may seem counterintuitive, given that war is, according to Clausewitz, a test of
wills, militaries are naturally inclined to coordination by plan.94 Unfortunately
for militaries (and unlike almost all other professions), most of their time is
spent not fighting. No matter how rigorous the training, what comes about for
armies is a series of plans, contingency scenarios in which minute prepara-
tion is the order of the day. It has to be this way, for in some cases there is only
one roll of the iron dice. The French army in 1940 certainly learned this les-
son. On the other side of the coin, one hardly thinks of Italy’s hapless Marshal
Rodolfo Graziani (“when the cannon sounds everything will fall into place
automatically”) as a competent military professional.95 What was needed in
Cochinchina was something in between: a methodology for conduct, but one
not so prescriptive as to choke off all alternatives.
Latour’s experience with colonial warfare helped. The normal military
concentration on planning comes from a rigid distinction between war and
peace. At least since the French Revolution, Europeans on the continent (and
Americans) have considered peace the norm and war a brutal exception to the
rule. Under this rubric there becomes an ethical imperative to bring war to
a conclusion as speedily as possible.96 Protracted war ipso facto takes on the
sheen of immortality, whatever the original cause. However pragmatic strategy
may seem, it must, under these circumstances, bend at least partially to the dic-
tates of a normative peace. Strategies of decisive victory and unconditional sur-
render naturally followed in its wake.
This was not the case in colonial warfare; Latour innately understood that.
In wars of empire the distinctions between war and peace always blurred. The
need to decisively break an opponent, so powerfully felt in continental wars,
was unrealistic, even quixotic for the colonial commander chasing tribal lead-
ers and shadowy bandits. The campaign was frequently an exercise in the man-
agement of a state of war, not an exercise to bring about the end of it. If peace
happened to break out, so much the better, but few could believe it would last
for long, and certainly not into perpetuity. In the colonies it was not states at
war with ideas about rationality and legitimate sovereign interests, but civili-
zations, ways of life, religious philosophies or the endless succession of can-
tankerous headmen chafing at the colonial bit. In such a world there could be
armistice, but rarely peace.
A defensive orientation for the TFIS commander was not the dirty word
it was for so many others. According to Douglas Porch’s condensation of colo-
nial pacification, “[t]here were three ways to pacify a country.” According to
the first—Porch considers this the self-defeating Spanish/Italian method—the
colonial power builds forts in the center of the country and makes no effort to
control the unruly. Little is ventured, nothing gained. The second method—
at times a French standard—was to launch continual raids until the rebel ele-
ment “made peace from sheer exhaustion.” The downside naturally was that the
enemy and population would come to hold the colonizer in utter contempt.
The third—the “Lyautey method”—was to combine the prior two.97 Build forts
to establish a zone of security around which economic life could flourish and
slowly wick away support from the rebel groups, while raids kept them off bal-
ance, ruined economically, and incapable of massing against isolated outposts.
This was the method Latour, perhaps reflexively, adopted.
Latour’s focus was the so-called vieilles provinces (old provinces) of
Cochinchina: Saigon, Bien Hoa, Gia Dinh, Go Cong and My Tho. His con-
centration was that portion Latour and others referred to as Cochinchine utile
(useful or gainful Cochinchina). Effort, Latour maintained, must be tailored
to the specific political and economic objectives, particularly the near “com-
plete security” of the capital and control of the rice harvest and other important
commodities, such as rubber.98 In these areas the TFIS embarked on an exten-
sive campaign of fortification. The exact process had actually been pioneered in
the western reaches of Cochinchina after a provincial official in Sa Dec noted
the ineffectiveness of the local commander’s offensively minded troop dis-
position. By trying to keep too many troops centralized, uncommitted, and
available for aggressive action, nearly the entire sector was functionally at the
mercy of the Viet Minh.99 A new commander in Zone West worked to change
things. Colonel Redon, another colonial artilleryman, took over Zone West in
latour’s war, 1947–1949 105
April 1948. Taking to heart the need to shore up the TFIS’s position, Redon
began systematically clearing routes in his zone, both terrestrial and aquatic,
thus depriving the Viet Minh of places to lay in ambush. He also devised a
system of fortification whereby posts were built in groups of threes. A larger,
“mother” post equipped with gendarmes, a radio, and machine guns supported
two other smaller posts, mostly garrisoned by locals. In the event of an attack
the “mother” post could come to the aid of the smaller or call for help from
nearby reserves.100
The building campaign across the heart of Cochinchina was prodigious.
Lucien Bodard, surveying the scene at the time, called Latour’s plan “not a war
of fresh offensives, but one of public works.” Progressively Cochinchina was
transformed into an “artificial forest of watchtowers.”101 As the TFIS became
more sophisticated under Latour and in the years to follow, the command
published field manuals on the proper construction and stewardship of these
posts; over time their design became quite standardized. Main posts were trian-
gle-shaped, situated near villages, and capable of offering overlapping fields of
fire in all directions. Smaller towers went up every kilometer or so along critical
roads. These smaller posts were each occupied by only a handful of men. Their
presence, however, discouraged ambushes along the routes. They were further-
more strong enough to stave off small attacks until reserves or artillery support
could arrive from the larger posts.
Over the course of 1948–49 and on into the tenures of Latour’s succes-
sors, the system of fortification extended throughout the central portion of
Cochinchina. By 1949 Zone East had roughly 450 towers/posts in operation.
In the west there were more than 650. In the center there were more than 1,300
fortified positions, with another 500 or so securing Saigon-Cho Lon alone.102
Provinces like Go Cong in the delta, one of the most fertile parts of Cochinchina,
became riddled with towers as the French lined the roads with them and then
garrisoned them with partisans or regulars, as need required.
The corollary to Latour’s plan for political and economic security on a
reduced scale was to ruin, as much as was possible, economic life within the
Viet Minh–controlled portions of the country and “dry up the rebel sources
of supply.”103 The area of the Transbassac was the principal target. This was
the great rice basket of the Viet Minh. Moreover, the French had abandoned
nearly all of it, leaving its rice production in Communist hands. From here
the Viet Minh could ship rice east to their comrades in Zone VII or, as events
required, trade it to Thailand for weapons, medical supplies, and other con-
sumer goods.104 The French presence beyond the Bassac really amounted to lit-
tle more than three points d’appui (supporting points) around Rach Giá, Long
Xuyen, and Can Tho.105 These were the major warehousing areas for rice and
Layout and fields of fire of main post. “Le Poste,” printed by

the FFVS, 1953, SHAT, carton 10H985, Service historique de la
Défense, CHA, Vincennes.
excellent spots to interdict the shipments of bulk paddy (unhusked rice) headed
east out of Mien Tay.
The French correctly understood that the Viet Minh economy was entirely
“parasitic” in nature, relying—however much it pained the Viet Minh—on inter-
course with the French-controlled core of Cochinchina. Latour took advantage
of his central position between the two wings of the Viet Minh disposition to
impose an economic blockade of the Transbassac, the full force of which was not
truly in place until January 1949.106 Not only did the blockade severely reduce
the foodstuffs available to Viet Minh fighters in the eastern Zone VII, it also
deprived units everywhere of their principal access to funds, since an “export
tax” on the sale of rice constituted the major source of revenue for the Nam Bo
Communists. In late 1948 the French estimated that this “tax” on rice netted the
Viet Minh about 300 million piastres per year, or about 5 billion francs.107
Latour’s scheme was of great concern to the Viet Minh. Deprived of ade-
quate rice, the Viet Minh could neither eat nor buy weapons. By September
Go Cong sector. Large
0 2.75 5.5
squares represent full posts. Miles
The smaller dots are guard

towers. It is important to note,
however, that the recovery of
Go Cong was not at all imme- Occidentale
ico
Va
diate. The operational graphic
presented here shows the state
of affairs in 1952. Much of Go
Cong, mostly the maritime
cantons, was still in Viet Minh
hands well into 1949. Map
by William Keegan. Based
on map prepared by EMIFT,
3e Bureau, 1952, SHAT, car-
ton 10H908; and letter from
Général de Brigade Boyer
de Latour, Commandant
les Troupes françaises en
Indochine du Sud, to Général
de Division Commandant les
Forces Terrestres en Extrême-
Orient, dated 12 Jan 1949,
SHAT, carton 10H906, Service
historique de la Défense,
CHA, Vincennes. Copyright Guard towers
© 2018 by the University of
Section/platoon post
Oklahoma Press.
1948 the Viet Minh economic situation in Zone VII was already “precarious,”
according to French intelligence accounts of a meeting of the Zone VII com-
mand structure that month. Their predicament was serious enough that the
Nam Bo committee felt compelled to send agents into Thailand in the hopes of
brokering a deal to sell rice to their western neighbor.108
In the years to come the blockade would increase in scale and scope and
come to incorporate a regulation on the transport of proscribed goods any-
where within Cochinchina. As it developed the French looked to prevent
the movement of any and all products that might be “usable by the rebels.”
Gendarmes stationed at critical road or watercourse junctures inspected ship-
ments. A merchant had to verify the sender and recipient of his wares and have
the proper permits in order to move his cargo.109 Over time the command
added nearly any good capable of being employed in arms fabrication to a list
of regulated items.110 In actions such as this the combination of civil and mil-
itary power within the grasp of the commander of the TFIS streamlined the
process of choking off Viet Minh resources. Because of this status, the TFIS was
able to combine the efforts of what the French called postes d’interdiction with
those of other postes de contrôle into a single system. The former were manned
by military personnel and were responsible for stopping all cargo attempting to
circumvent the customs and police officials located at the postes de contrôle.
These latter could siphon off the illicit material and hopefully ensure that trade
was being carried out within the strictures set by the lists of banned materials.111
An additional advantage for the TFIS in these seizures was that the French
could turn around and resell the seized contraband. Money raised in this way
was, at least in part, turned over to the zone commanders to help pay their large
and growing establishment of local partisans. Other portions were turned over
to the navy and to the Sûreté, doubtless to help them pay informants.112
The Viet Minh did try to combat these procedures beyond simply attack-
ing French positions. Sometime prior to the summer of 1948 Hanoi sent south
the one-time Nam Bo delegate to the Central Committee, Phạm Văn Bạch, with
instructions to unify the command situation and thereby streamline the eco-
nomic/administrative dealings of the southern Viet Minh.113 Bach did attempt
to create a single bureau for signal services and administrative actions directly
answerable to the Nam Bo executive committee, but it is unclear how effectively
it was able to undercut regional autonomy.114 Nguyen Binh’s attempts to rav-
age the economic system in Saigon were also a strange example of a potentially
self-inflicted wound, in that he required Chinese merchants be able to sell Viet
Minh rice (and pork) if he wanted the revolution to stay funded.115
In May 1949 Binh ordered his commanders to burn all markets operat-
ing in French-controlled territory. He particularly singled out merchants who
latour’s war, 1947–1949 109
supplied the French with bricks to build blockhouses; he instructed his subor-
dinates to deal with them as “traitors.”116 A more far-reaching action was the
creation of an alternate currency for the Viet Minh-controlled zones, the Ho
Chi Minh (HCM) piastre, which was to replace French-backed money alto-
gether. The problem, of course, was that any time specie became tight, Viet
Minh cadres had the simple recourse of printing more money. As could be
expected, ruinous inflation took hold in Viet Minh areas by late 1950, forcing
the end of the Viet Minh endeavor and belief that they could build an entirely
separate, functioning economy.117
The overland or riverine portion of Viet Minh economic activity was com-
plemented by a healthy traffic in goods carried by ship out of the Ca Mau pen-
insula and then off-loaded in Binh Xuyen–controlled coastal portions of the
delta. From there the wares could be shipped to recipients in the eastern zone.
Latour attempted a naval blockade of the Binh Xuyen coastline, but it is unclear
how effective this was. His attempt to blockade entirely the Plain of Reeds also
had to be abandoned in the planning stages for lack of resources.118
If many of these measures were passive in nature, Latour’s command
insisted on more active measures as well. To compound the Viet Minh mone-
tary difficulties, the TFIS took a hand in printing large quantities of fake HCM
piastres and distributing them liberally within Viet Minh–controlled areas.
Another important area of action was to try and reduce the price of rice. The
French had learned that the Viet Minh benefited greatly if the price of rice
could remain high, as their export tax fluctuated accordingly. Naturally the
blockade did not help the situation, adding time and therefore cost to the prob-
lem of transport and thus helping raise the price for that portion of rice that did
get through. To partially offset this problem, the TFIS tried to reduce transport
costs for rice by engaging in projects like the dredging of canals, in the hopes
this would speed shipments and allow economies of scale to come into effect.119
The last piece of Latour’s economic warfare repertoire was offensive action
directed against rice stockpiles and industrial/manufacturing targets within
Viet Minh–controlled regions. All of these regions Latour declared zônes de
guerre, meaning among other things, that they could be strafed and bombed
“liberally” in order to make life uncomfortable for the Viet Minh and, ipso facto,
for anyone else who decided to stay.120 This was not, to be sure, a campaign for
“hearts and minds,” but a rather cold-blooded attempt to make life unlivable in
Viet Minh stretches of the country. In these attacks, unlike the previous, overly
telegraphed attempts—qua Vega—Latour insisted that offensive action be con-
strained to a “succession of deep raids” carried out with minimal preparation
by local forces and based on timely intelligence.121 “Like fish,” Latour insisted,
“intelligence must be consumed fresh.”122 The advantage of this system was that,
if a raid fell flat, the potential loss was minimal. If, on the other hand, the intelli-
gence was accurate, as was often the case, the raid could inflict serious material
hardship on Viet Minh units. In one such raid conducted in early 1949 elements
of a dinassaut as well as infantry from the 2nd and 3rd BCCPs descended on a
known transfer point for Viet Min rice south of Saigon at the confluence of the
Vaico and Soi Rap Rivers. From this point the rice was intended for shipment
up to the Viet Minh units operating in Zone VII. The raid made no contact with
the enemy, but did succeed in capturing several junks loaded to the gunwales
with rice. Whatever could not be speedily transported back was burned on the
spot.123 This was the typical procedure.
When possible, the TFIS, particularly in Zone Center, would launch oper-
ations aimed at gaining control of nearby, but heretofore Viet Minh–held,
rice-growing regions. Like the much more common raids, these attacks were
short in duration, limited in scope, and carried out soon after the receipt of
important intelligence. One such operation in early February 1949 in Go Cong
allowed the troops of Zone Center to not only capture a productive portion of
a Go Cong coastal canton, but also saw them inflict rather heavy casualties on
a Viet Minh battalion.124
Such actions, however, were not universally successful, especially when
the planners became overzealous and the operations overlarge. In March 1949
in Go Cong the command tried to up the ante and move against rebel bands
with three battalions—one of which was Roger Trinquier’s 2nd BCCP—in the
hopes of destroying enough of them to make the occupation of the area north
of Tay Nien Tay possible. The execution was slipshod by its participants’ own
admission and the Viet Minh escaped entirely unmolested.125 The original
plan for taking back Go Cong had called for six battalions, but such strength
was unavailable. It is nevertheless irrelevant whether or not this larger plan
would have been more or less successful. The command had to be content
with less.
The high point of Latour’s system of “deep raids” came in spring 1949. At
this point Latour was finally able to close off the Plain of Reeds to all but spo-
radic Viet Minh activity. This was Operation Jonquille (Daffodil). Vega, of
course, had required Nguyen Binh to pull most of his administration from the
plain, but he had attempted to keep the area open as a transit hub on a reduced
scale. He eventually positioned three battalions (tiểu đoàn) as part of a front
(mặt trận) in the Plain of Reeds. French intelligence detected this uncommon
concentration of forces at the very end of May 1949. Gathering what forces he
could (four infantry battalions and two paratroop groups with hefty marine
and engineer support), Latour attacked the suspected concentration on 2 June
1949 from jumping-off points near Cai Lay.126
latour’s war, 1947–1949 111
As with Vega, though more quickly executed, paratroopers dropped on

the principal objectives, while ground columns moved in to cut off any retreat.
Fighting was particularly intense due to the apparent surprise and probably
because Binh attempted to briefly test the mettle of his newly forming “main
force” units. Despite problems with artillery coordination—once more called
into field operations after so long operating from fixed positions—French fire-
power (including aviation support) proved too much for the Viet Minh, who
were obliged to withdraw after suffering significant casualties. The getaway this
time was not nearly as clean as it had been during Vega, and yet the majority
of the Viet Minh formations were able to extricate themselves from the trap.
Nightfall and thick vegetation prevented Latour’s men from mounting anything
like a hot pursuit.127
As it was, Latour’s war rolled on slowly, but steadily. Jean Leroy in Ben
Tre managed to clean out Viet Minh with remarkable efficiency. By early 1949
the TFIS could declare with confidence that the island of An Hoa was entirely
pacified. With the aid of Catholic and Cambodian partisans, partial con-
trol was extended into Tra Vinh.128 The halting construction of a Vietnamese
national army to serve the Bao Dai government had also begun and the TFIS
commander ensconced its first battalion in Mo Cay in October 1948. Latour’s
understandable obsession with route security also paid off. The TFIS opened
the road from Go Cong to My Tho in the first half of 1949, as they did with the
routes between Cho Lon and Ben Tre, My Tho and Saigon, Cho Lon to Duc
Hoa, Saigon and Trang Bang, and Go Vap to Hoc Mon.129
Rampant insecurity, economic and otherwise, in the Viet Minh–controlled
regions also created a general flight of refugees to the comparative wealth and
safety of the country’s center. Latour estimated that in late 1948, 20,000 people
per month were fleeing Zone West for the stability of the center.130 Shipping
costs fell dramatically and control over the rice harvest increased markedly.131
In August 1949 alone the TFIS reported that with the aid of Dinassaut No. 8,
assigned to rice convoy protection, Zone West was able to move approximately
33,000 tons of rice for sale in Saigon.132
Still, the setbacks were far from inconsequential. From 1948 through 1949
Latour did not manage to increase the scope of his control by much. Those areas
in Viet Minh hands remained largely the same as they had after the widespread
withdrawals of 1947. The sects also remained hard to handle. Internal strife with
the Hoa Hao saw the faction of Ba Cut turn briefly against the French and the
main line of the cult in late 1948. Similarly, and close to the same time, the Cao
Dai called a halt to offensive action against the Viet Minh in an attempt to cut a
third way between an entirely pro-French line and the Viet Minh. They would
defend themselves, but no more. They changed course again in June 1949 and
resumed aggression against the Communists.133 The vagaries of sect politics

were frustrating to Latour and his commanders, but there was little to be done.
The French did not have the resources to even contemplate suppressing the
sects; their adhesion to the anti-Communist struggle was more important, in
the short term, than their unreserved commitment to the Bao Dai government.
Commentators then and more recently have seen this as a chief failing of
the French policy in Cochinchina. Lucien Bodard derided the reliance on the
sects as the expeditionary corps clothing itself in a “tunic of Nessus,” a classical
reference to the poisoned garment that killed the Greek hero Heracles.134 David
Elliott fundamentally agrees. In his study of the Vietnamese revolution in My
Tho he termed the problematic nature of sect politics as the “most important
cause of French decline.”135 Even if we grant this assertion as true of the later
period, it is unlikely the French would have gotten as far as they did without
sect aid. When they were cooperating, the sects were frightfully useful and pro-
vided the French a degree of plausible deniability about excesses committed
against Viet Minh agents. The French did attempt to undercut the sects’ auton-
omy by folding some of their units into the newly forming Vietnamese National
Army, but this was a plodding, delicate process and one in which Latour did not
fully believe.
Latour could have elected against this process of strategic “coping,” as it
were, but only by putting himself at variance with reality. The sects were unruly,
but however much they bothered the French, they stung the Viet Minh even
more. The Viet Minh’s unforgiving attitude in general, and Nguyen Binh’s in
particular, had already cost them the support of the Cao Dai and the Hoa Hao.
The year 1948 saw their status with the Binh Xuyen flag as well. In this respect
Nguyen Binh was perhaps more a doctrinaire revolutionary than even his com-
patriots in Tonkin. It is possible that Binh simply could not accept any rival to
his authority and that his subsequent actions do not necessarily betoken any
special adhesion to the Communist view of history. And yet Binh always had
subordinates and powerful ones at that. What seems to have been the deciding
factor in whether an energetic leader lived or died was his commitment to a
revolutionary ideology.
Either way, since the beginning of their uneasy alliance, Nguyen Binh and
Bay Vien had viewed each other with a great deal of distrust. Violent episodes
between the Communists and the Binh Xuyen had broken out on numerous
occasions, frequently due to Nguyen Binh’s attempts to infiltrate Communist
agents into Binh Xuyen units.136 To allay this situation the Central Committee in
Tonkin in spring 1948 restated a policy of unity and directed that while Nguyen
Binh would be military commissar for Cochinchina, Bay Vien would assume
the role of commander of Zone VII.137 Despite deep reservations—Bay Vien
latour’s war, 1947–1949 113
traveled with several hundred bodyguards and had opened discreet contacts
with French intelligence beforehand138—the leader of the Binh Xuyen traveled
to the Plain of Reeds in May 1948 to be officially invested as the commander of
Zone VII at the temporary headquarters of the Nam Bo Central Committee.
This was too much for Nguyen Binh. Before Bay Vien’s arrival the Nam
Bo Committee decided on a policy of “purification” with respect to the Binh
Xuyen.139 What he could not control, Nguyen Binh would destroy. Though
the Viet Minh chief made a good show of his reception for Bay Vien, secretly
Communist forces moved in and disarmed a significant portion of Vien’s troops
in the Rung Sac area south of Saigon.140 Now Binh strategically absented him-
self from the meeting and made ready to ambush and annihilate Bay Vien’s
cohort, which was still encamped in the Plain of Reeds. But the leader of the
Binh Xuyen had been made aware of what was happening—he had friends
among the other Viet Minh units present who apprised him of what was afoot.
Leaving behind a small rear guard to give the appearance that their camp was
still occupied, Bay Vien and the main force of his guards stole away in the night.
Days later they managed to reach the outskirts of Saigon.141
With the Rung Sat occupied by Viet Minh and the duplicity of Nguyen
Binh on full display, Bay Vien sent his adjutant to find the chief of the French
Deuxième Bureau. He instructed him to seek authority to pass through French
positions and to rally to the government of Bao Dai. Latour was quick to accept.
By mid-June, just days after his escape from Nguyen Binh, Bay Vien began, with
French aid, the process of prying the Rung Sat from the Communists. The oper-
ation was dubbed Huron and Bay Vien’s men acted as scouts for French troops.
Though it ran into problems initially, in time French forces succeeded in clean-
ing out the Communists and freeing Bay Vien’s captured troops. The govern-
ment named Bay Vien a colonel in the South Vietnamese Guard and he was
accorded authority over the Rung Sat and Cho Lon. Henceforth Bay Vien’s men
were not bandits, but the Forces Armées Nationalistes Binh Xuyen. Back in his
domain, Bay Vien issued a strident proclamation against the Communists and
their “bloodthirsty dictator, Nguyen Binh.”142
Nguyen Binh and the Viet Minh’s loss was more than just the well-armed
troops of the Binh Xuyen. Much of the Viet Minh’s access to arms (other than
those they manufactured themselves or stole from the TFIS) had come through
the Binh Xuyen’s contacts with the international underworld.143 Furthermore,
as discussed above, the Viet Minh’s Zone VII relied heavily on rice shipped in
from the west and offloaded on Binh Xuyen–controlled coastline. That avenue
was now lost.
Throughout 1948 into 1949 Latour continued his methodical operations to
maintain control of the vital areas of Cochinchina. Though the high command
remained concerned about the inability of Latour to extend his zone of control
or to strike at the main body of Communist regulars, the situation in French-
backed Cochinchina was stable and strong, if limited in geographical reach.144
Latour himself described the disposition of his command as a “very complex
structure” built around a “great number of adjustments of detail and of expe-
rience.”145 And so it was. Latour had accommodated himself to his weakness
and, following the failure of Vega, had looked to tie ends to means in a useful,
though frustrating, fashion. The coping posture of the TFIS was indeed “solid”
and supple at the same time. Economic warfare was gradually making condi-
tions unbearable in the Viet Minh reaches of the country. A widening array of
doctrine, penned at Latour’s direction, gave to pacification a robust, homoge-
nous complexion.
This is not to say that Latour left his command in November of 1949
entirely pleased with his accomplishments. However successful Latour’s pattern
of neocolonial war might have been, it was not feasible for him to truly enact
anything like a tâche d’huile strategy. At the end of 1949 the armed forces avail-
able to the TFIS (now Forces Terrestres du Sud Viet-Nam, FTSV) amounted
to 76,400 men.146 Although this was not an inconsiderable number of troops,
one must bear in mind that of these only 33,500 were in the regular establish-
ment units of the French army. A little more than 10,000 were units of the
Vietnamese guard and one battalion of the Vietnamese National Army. The
rest were an assemblage of sect forces and partisan units.147 Given the constant
demands to reinforce the north as the Communist Chinese approached ever
closer to the border, Latour spent most of his tenure with a meager general
reserve of troops.148 As was the case with many of his subordinates, the poverty
of his command forced Latour to fall back on the well-rutted perspectives of a
colonial soldier, and eventually discard the breathtaking but ephemeral lessons
of war derived from the recent experience against Germany.149 In a sense, it was
the satisficing that had always been integral to colonial warfare. The same could
not be said of the French perspective everywhere.
From his vantage point in Saigon, Latour could not prognosticate the way
to defeat once and for all the revolution touted by his Viet Minh foes; that
was beyond his ken. His was a strategy of a different sort. It certainly fails
Richard Betts’s test of strategy, which is to “be able to devise a rational scheme
to achieve an objective” and that this course must “be value maximizing.” For
Betts, and for many others, to have strategy, one must discern the end from
the beginning.150 By this metric, Latour had no strategy; indeed, hardly anyone
ever has. What Latour did was improve his position in Cochinchina and hus-
band his forces, while keeping them from overblown actions that might have
denuded his resources and fruitlessly weakened his troops. At base he kept his
latour’s war, 1947–1949 115
options for the future open—he survived. Perhaps Norman Friedman is right
and the strategy that is best is the one that promises “fewer mistakes.”151 Each
step for Latour maximized, if anything, the potential number of viable routes
into the future. The French in Cochinchina in 1949 did not see their defeat as
imminent or inevitable, nor the road to the end of empire as the only one on
which they might tread. It was not so for their adversaries. For the proponents
of revolution there was one clear row to hoe—it was only a matter of getting
down to work.
ch a p ter 5
“All for the General

Counteroffensive”
Viet Minh Strategy and Tactics
I n 1949 Alain Savary, an agent of the French Workers’ Party (Section française
de l’Internationale Ouvrière), secreted himself to the headquarters of the
Nam Bo military forces in Cochinchina, in an ultimately futile effort to find a
way to a negotiated settlement between France and the southern Communists.1
While there Savary observed, however briefly, the workings and air of Nguyen
Binh’s command. The Trưởng phòng Quân giới Nam Bộ (Chief of Southern
Military Arms) command center was orderly and professional. Maps of the
various zones blazoned the walls. Shredded bamboo covered the floor, keep-
ing things tidy and dry. And protecting the command post was a platoon of
professional soldiers uniformed smartly in khaki.2 They were emblematic of
what Nguyen Binh was building in the south—a regular army capable of con-
fronting its enemies and finally, in great set-piece battles, driving them from
Southeast Asia.3
The southern Viet Minh, like their Maoist contemporaries, were reluctant
guerrillas; or more accurately, they were only ever temporary guerrillas. Viet
Minh strategy in Cochinchina from nearly the very beginning was predicated
on a methodical march through the Maoist three-phase war paradigm,4 inev-
itably culminating in the tổng phản công (general counteroffensive) to be fol-
lowed by a response from the populace in the form of the khởi nghĩa (general
uprising). For Nguyen Binh and his compatriots this was the only path to vic-
tory. The dialectical outworking of historical materialism ensured that this was
how the Vietnamese would beat the French, and any other reactionary power.
Still, reconstructing the strategic perspective of the southern revolution-
aries in the period up to 1950 is a difficult task. Written accounts by Viet Minh
participants are relatively few in number and, when available, tend to focus
much more heavily on the later period and the Second Indochina War.5 Nguyen
Binh himself, of course, did not live long enough to leave us a written account
of his life as the commander of the southern resistance, and later biographi-
cal works must perforce reconcile his role into the approved Hanoi narrative
116
viet minh strategy and tactics 117
of the struggle. Similarly, Vietnamese government histories of the war are far
removed from the world of impartiality. They necessarily shoehorn the early
war in the south into the larger story of the successful revolution, and effec-
tively minimize Nguyen Binh’s tenure and his attempt at a large-scale offensive
in 1950. Each episode is carefully woven retrospectively into the warp and woof
of the approved Communist storyline. Unsuccessful attempts to launch into the
final phase of the Maoist struggle are recast as necessary developments in the
longer, finally victorious struggle. This narrative labels the problematic offen-
sives of 1950 as successful, albeit “exhausting,” attacks with limited objectives.6
In the minds of those involved at the time, this was not the case.
Establishing the importance of the 1950 offensive, however, cannot be done
through Vietnamese records, as Vietnamese military archives remain closed.
Moreover, there is at least some doubt among scholars that military records for
much of what happened in the south exist.7 And yet while the Nam Bo’s military
records are inaccessible (and perhaps lost), there does remain a significant ker-
nel of documentary evidence for its activities during this period. French opera-
tions frequently captured stores of Viet Minh documents, which the Deuxième
Bureau (French military intelligence) carefully translated. Additionally, police
at various levels as well as the ubiquitous Sûreté maintained a vast network of
agents in and among the Communist ranks. Reports from these agents and
captured Viet Minh documents—both of which can be found in sizable quan-
tities in the French military archives in Vincennes (Service historique de la
Défense)—provide us the only way to access the unvarnished thinking of Viet
Minh cadres during the years in question.
This picture is naturally far from complete. The French did not capture
every Viet Minh document, nor did their agents proffer anything like uniformly
accurate information. We must assume that in some cases the Viet Minh were
engaged in campaigns of misinformation. Nevertheless, in Cochinchina where
its connections ran deep, French intelligence was able to garner a great deal of
knowledge about the Viet Minh and the broad contours of their program. What
emerges is an organization bent upon beating its foe through a strategy of anni-
hilation, culminating in a great offensive to drive out the French and crush their
puppet regime.8 From almost the outset then Nguyen Binh’s focus was not on
terrorism or guerrilla action in and of themselves, but was devoted to building
his chủ lực (main force) regiments. It was an ideological commitment to the
Maoist three-phase revolutionary war paradigm, entirely incongruous with the
situation and material constraints of the southern Viet Minh.
In short, the strategy pursued by the Nam Bo military forces was exactly
the same as that of their northern counterparts, despite significant differences
that should have militated against it. The situation in Tonkin was far more
hospitable to the Viet Minh’s anticolonial struggle. In the first place, the wilds of
Tonkin made for a much better sanctuary for the building of military forces than
even the remotest portions of the Mekong delta. More important was the access
to China afforded by its common border with Tonkin. As victory in the Chinese
civil war carried Mao’s men to the border, Giap’s revolutionaries could not only
get substantial weaponry from the detritus of Kuomintang armies, but by 1949
were able to move their forces piecemeal into the safe haven of Chinese terri-
tory for extensive training. By April of 1950 the Viet Minh were training entire
regiments in Yunnan with Chinese assistance.9 Within a short time the north-
ern Viet Minh would be fielding entire divisions, something never achieved in
the south. Material aid was noticeable even earlier, particularly in the realm of
artillery, so much so that the Viet Minh in late 1950 could field fifteen artillery
battalions (tiểu đoàn pháo binh); the problem for Nguyen Binh was that thir-
teen of these were in Tonkin. The one battalion in Cochinchina (the other was
in Annam) had little in the way of armament.10 The Viet Minh had captured one
105-mm howitzer from the French in 1948 but there is no evidence it was ever
put to use.11 “Artillery” for the Nam Bo Communists really meant nothing more
than mortars, medium-weight (usually 82-mm) if they were lucky.
This deficiency in heavy weapons was a major problem, and one that might
have pushed hard against the notion that a successful “general counteroffen-
sive” was possible in the south, at least for some time, certainly far beyond
1950. Lacking the artillery necessary to punch holes in Latour’s ever-expand-
ing network of fortifications, the southern Viet Minh had to rely on convoluted
schemes involving petards (special shaped charges) to knock down towers,
walls or doors. In late 1949 the Viet Minh even opened specialized schools in
Nam Bo to train troops in the use of explosives and sapping.12 Soon thereaf-
ter these troops and their munitions were a critical demand of Nam Bo units.13
Specialists, of course, were in short supply, as were their devices.
This shortcoming meant that the Viet Minh had to rely on guile and infan-
try for the taking of fortified positions, a far dicier option than the relative cer-
tainty of a well-placed pack howitzer. Large swaths of the population, including
various and sundry ethnic and religious minorities, held the Viet Minh in vary-
ing degrees of contempt. In keeping with colonial practice, the French relied
extensively on these groups for the garrisoning of fortifications. Bereft of real
firepower, the Viet Minh had to attempt to induce these men to treason, a pros-
pect fraught with risk. In one instance in the Hoc Mon sector in February
1950, Viet Minh agents contacted a group of Cambodian partisans occupying a
tower. The Viet Minh demanded that the partisans desert with their arms and
ammunition. The tower’s chef maintained contact with the Viet Minh, but also
notified the local French intelligence officer, who arranged an ambush. When
the dozen or so Viet Minh returned one evening to collect their spoils they were
admitted to the tower where, unbeknownst to them, a trio of legionnaires lay in
wait with a machine gun. As the Cambodians passed down ammo crates filled
with rocks, the legionnaires concealed in the tower opened fire, killing six and
wounding several others.14
Viet Minh efforts to take towers were not all unsuccessful, however. Many
positions did fall to treason. This was one of the French command’s primary
concerns throughout the war.15 Saigon therefore devoted considerable counter-
propaganda efforts to try and inoculate their partisan troops against Viet Minh
infiltration.16
If taking fortifications by treason could be so dangerous, why would the
poorly armed, thoroughly outgunned southern Viet Minh consider doing so
by storm, a far bloodier affair? The answer, as we have stated, is the seemingly
deep ideological commitment of southern revolutionaries to the mythos of
the general counteroffensive/general uprising. Given recent scholarship on the
Vietnam Wars, this commitment should not be entirely surprising. Especially
for the later period, Lien-Hang Nguyen has established rather convincingly that
the strategy of southern Communists toward their war with the United States
was overly driven by ideological factors, much to the chagrin of the “north-
ern faction” of Vietnamese leaders, including many like Vo Nguyen Giap and
Hoàng Minh Chính, who had probably come to appreciate that Western fire-
power made the prospect of a successful general counteroffensive/general upris-
ing very unlikely. The argument between these factions came to a head in the
months preceding the Tet Offensive of 1968 when a vocal group of northern-
ers increasingly found fault with the leadership of the general secretary of the
Central Committee, Le Duan, and his insistence that the war in the south could
only proceed along rigidly Maoist lines. Long after the fact, leaders involved in
this vexed affair would complain that in discussing strategy with southern rev-
olutionaries, hard military realities always had to give way to hazy abstractions
expressed in Marxist-Leninist terms.17
What is most interesting about Nguyen’s work is that it dispels that notion
of an incredibly sophisticated and subtle Communist strategic doctrine that
utterly befuddled its Western adversaries. This has been the general American
(as well as French) perspective since before the wars’ end. Harry Summer’s
book on the Vietnam War, On Strategy, famously (or infamously) begins with
the story of an American colonel chiding his Vietnamese counterpart in 1975
that the Americans were undefeated on the battlefield throughout the war, to
which the Vietnamese colonel retorts that this was true and “also irrelevant.”18
The chapter in which this vignette occurs is entitled “Tactical Victory, Strategic
Defeat.” Despite their tactical skill and logistical superiority—so the argument
goes—America was unable to defeat the Communist forces in Vietnam because

the Vietnamese were playing a long game, counting on the American public’s
eventual fatigue to lead to the abandonment of the war effort. According to this
logic the massive tactical defeat suffered by Communist forces during the Tet
Offensive was altogether unimportant compared to the titanic blow inflicted
on American morale. The ability of the Viet Cong to hunker down, return to
a lower level of guerrilla action, and bide their time was evidence of their stra-
tegic brilliance and unsurpassed flexibility. Douglas Pike in his work on the
Quân Đội Nhân Dân Việt Nam (People’s Army of Vietnam), states this belief
forcefully: “[T]he Vietnamese Communists conceived, developed, and fielded
a dimensional [sic] new method for making war . . . and most important, that
it is a strategy for which there is no known proven counterstrategy.” 19 (Emphasis
in original.)
The French preceded the Americans in this view. Even before the fall of
Dien Bien Phu in 1954, military theorists had developed a mania for so-called
guerre révolutionnaire and the Fourth Republic’s seeming inability to deal with
it or prosecute war effectively.20 And whereas the defeat in Vietnam opened a
serious rift in civil-military relations in the United States over the perceived
failure of the home front to stay the course, in France the belief that the state
needed dramatic remaking to counter the power of revolution unleashed by the
Viet Minh’s equally dramatic re-authoring of the strategic paradigm ultimately
played into the army’s various attempts to overthrow the French government
and arrest the “decay” set in by the failure to live up to the challenge of interna-
tional Communism.21
The belief that the Vietnamese Communists could effortlessly slide up and
down the revolutionary ladder—from guerrilla to conventional warfare and
back again—became fixed in the minds of Western observers, and contrasted
unfavorably with the American/French system, stuck endlessly in resource-in-
tensive conventional warfare—that is to say, incapable of adapting to condi-
tions. According to this notion, Tet in 1968 then was the height of Vietnamese
craft and guile. The wide-ranging offensive was never intended to win in a
physical sense; its purpose was to show the American public the tenacity of
Vietnamese resolve and induce despondency about any victorious end to the
war. The prolonged three-phase tactical failure during the Tet Offensive was
proof positive that Le Duan, the architect of the attack, was a strategic master,
willing to sacrifice tens of thousands of troops in what he knew was an abor-
tive enterprise, but one that would in the long run cripple U.S. endurance to
stay the course.
Lien-Hang Nguyen, however, has shown that this assessment makes the
Communists too clever by half. Le Duan never intended anything but a clear
military victory in the Tet Offensive(s). There was no plan as Nguyen puts it,
to launch these attacks (and others) with the intent of “striking a political and
psychological blow to the United States and its foreign policy. . . . ” Instead,
she says, the goal was to “present Washington with a fait accompli by toppling
the Saigon regime through mass insurrection sparked by coordinated attacks
aimed at urban centers.”22 Not only was the strategy not nearly as subtle as most
had assumed, it was in fact pursued by Le Duan and his ilk without any real
assessment of the situation. It was a rigid and blinkered view of strategy cen-
tered on the idea of the great battle to decide all. Le Duan would, of course,
return to this plan again in 1972, and finally (successfully) in 1975. The notion
of the ultimate efficacy of the “general counteroffensive/general uprising” was a
matter of Communist faith in the incontrovertible march of dialectical materi-
alism. What is apparent from a study of the war in Cochinchina is that Nguyen’s
assessment of Communist strategy is correct, but needs to be pushed back in
time to nearly the beginning of the war in the south. It was certainly a chief
tenet of Nguyen Binh’s war-making schema. And Le Duan, we must remember,
was the leader of the dân quân or popular forces under Nguyen Binh’s overall
military leadership during those early years.
Why southern revolutionaries were so much more unwaveringly commit-
ted to the Maoist progression must to some degree remain a speculative issue.
The most probable answer is that southern Communists understood that the
fate of the south would be the main playing card wielded by northerners in any
peace negotiation, as indeed happened in 1954. In fact, it seems that as early as
1950, in light of the failures to seize the south by force, the Central Committee
in Tonkin was beginning to entertain thoughts that Cochinchina would be lost,
leaving the revolutionary forces in charge only in the north.23 For southern
Communists this was an unimaginable compromise, if ever made permanent.
Conversely there is also the possibility that a belief in the “general coun-
teroffensive/general uprising” strategy was universal in the beginning, but that
northern Viet Minh began to understand its limitations after experiencing the
full weight of Western firepower in battles like those for the Red River Delta in
1951, at Na San, and even at Dien Bien Phu. Many figures, like Giap, who had
experienced firsthand the devastation to be wrought by French airpower and
artillery, became the very same who would question the advisability of attack-
ing head-on the much more well-equipped U.S. military in later years.24
These varied reactions to military technical power in light of an assumed
acceptance of the appropriateness of revolutionary warfare are not without par-
allels in the Communist world. A similar schism occurred among the Chinese
leadership during their prosecution of the war in Korea. Stung by American
firepower, the Chinese leader during much of the Korean War, Peng Dehaui,
attempted to professionalize the Red Army through greater tactical and techni-
cal expertise and increasing reliance on modern military hardware during his
time as defense minister. Party officials, including Mao and Lin Biao, disagreed
heartily and argued that the ideological perspective of the army should not be
imperiled for the sake of professionalization. Revolutionary people’s war was
ipso facto sufficient to meet China’s security needs. In 1959 the Party, at Mao’s
urging, threw Peng and his supporters out of all positions of influence.25
In hindsight, this perspective seems almost laughable, were it not so tragic.
After all, what does revolutionary fervor have to do with the stark reality of
well-placed artillery and machine-gun nests? On the surface it would seem
there is room to accommodate a degree of “technicalism” in pursuit of military
objectives within the rubric of revolutionary people’s war of the Maoist vari-
ety.26 However, one must remember that the technical, managerial aspects of
Western warfare, for strict Marxists, were products of bourgeois society, and
more distinctively, products of a particularly bourgeois logic.27 This practice
of ascribing mutually exclusive systems of logic based on class identity meant
that borrowing too heavily from the bourgeoisie could not be politically neu-
tral. Technicalism is suffused with bourgeois thinking; to experiment too much
with it is to run serious risk of reactionary thinking. In the case of artillery for
instance, its historical roots in the minds of middle-class, technically-minded
military professionals made it an especially dangerous branch of service.
That is not to say that Communist armies/societies did not eventually inte-
grate technology—of course they did. The Soviet Union, North Korea, and the
Vietnamese Communists all eventually built what we would consider “mod-
ern,” technology-dependent forces that, apart from their distinctive ethos,
looked and operated much as their adversaries. What should be noted, how-
ever, is that this process was not immediate and was fraught with danger for
those who advocated for it. To argue for any type of accommodation with
American firepower—to use the Vietnamese example—put its proponents at a
distinct rhetorical disadvantage, which as Hang Nguyen notes, finally resulted
in their ouster. The doctrine of the efficacy of the “general counteroffensive/
general uprising” remained the orthodox position throughout both Indochina
Wars, and remains so today. Even now Vietnamese historiography of the wars,
at pains to reconcile the actual course of events with the neat three-phase
Maoist paradigm, has jumped through considerable intellectual hoops to mod-
ify it to a five-phase process.28 In this respect then, a great deal of the techni-
calism of Communist armies required the collective putting aside of stricter
Marxism-Leninist thought, or a keen ability to talk around the problem.
The issue is the linkages that bind the notion of the “general counteroffen-
sive/general uprising” together with the larger dogma implicit in Communist
thought. Both ideas—obviously the former nested within the latter—provide

points of resolution for otherwise intractable situations and therefore, once
accepted, provide a degree of intellectual satisfaction, hence the appeal. The
first point is philosophical and has to do with Communism itself. As Greg
Lockhart has shown, Vietnamese “nationalism” was really a product of French
conquest and colonization. Prior to these events any concept of patriotism for
Vietnamese-speaking peoples was really an aspect of loyalty to the imperial
throne. Some exception may be made for Tonkin where nascent patriotism was
less a function of commitment to the, from their perspective, upstart Nguyen
dynasty, but more to an abstract Confucianism also threatened by French
rule.29 Then the French defeated and functionally did away with the monar-
chy (and whatever attendant Confucianism lingered on), forcing contemplative
individuals across the country to rethink what it meant to be Vietnamese.30 To
be sure, a brand of nationalism could be incorporated from the French colo-
nial overlords. As Benedict Anderson has shown, nationalism, especially the
French version thereof, had become “modular” and therefore readily incorpo-
rated by the new peoples with whom the French had contact.31 And much like
with Germany or Italy, whose national origins came about largely due to French
occupation, Vietnamese nationalism too would involve an acceptance of the
rubric, but a rejection of the source.
Many disparate national groups tried to incorporate some sense of nation-
alism in the hopes that they could eventually wean such a notion away from
its Gallic parentage. Nevertheless, such an enterprise placed Vietnam and the
Vietnamese as subsidiary players within the larger skein of French history. Any
identity or role so conceived was, to the cynically-minded, derivative, contin-
gent, and somehow inauthentic. The fact that colonial administrators in the
early twentieth century actually then pushed a notion of Vietnamese national
identity capable of self-expression but indebted to French tutelage, was simply
unacceptable, hypocritical, and fictitious.32 Despite the Vietnamese desire to
distance themselves from the French, much of the strange unresolved tension
that exists in Vietnamese nationalism, with its limiting scope of action, ver-
sus Communism and its avowedly internationalizing impetus, can perhaps be
attributed to its schizophrenic French parentage where the inherent particular-
ity (and practical inaccessibility) of French national identity played out against
the claims of a universalizing empire offering to bring civilization to the world
and theoretically open to all.33
This process of rejection and reappropriation took on special import in
the region of far northern Annam, particularly in the provinces of Thanh Hoa,
Nghệ An, and Hà Tĩnh, the home of Ho Chi Minh and a great many other
future Communist leaders. The region, known for its poverty and erudition,
had been poorly governed under the Nguyen kings, and also escaped much
notice during most of the period of French colonial rule. It is one of the iro-
nies of history that this insular provincial hinterland would become the train-
ing ground of so many advocates for world revolution. Here, scholars maintain,
intellectual affection developed for an equally fictional, “idealized nation,” with
the intricacies of historical materialism eventually providing a ready alternative
to a discredited Confucian mandarinate and its absentee French successor.34
As is well known, a young Ho Chi Minh working in Paris was brought
into the Communist fold by way of the writings of Lenin, particularly Lenin’s
work on “National and Colonial Questions.”35 In this and other writings (e.g.
Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism) Lenin put forth the contention that
anti-imperialism and anti-capitalism were two equal halves in the great crusade
for world revolution—that is, in imperialism, capitalism had reached its inevi-
table tipping point. Colonial peoples fighting for national liberation would rise
up and shake the European proletariat loose from a lackadaisical revolutionary
sense brought on by the unnatural life colonialism had lent to otherwise out-
worn capitalist injustices.36 For the first time, the colonies were not derivative,
but crucial to the working out of world revolution. The Vietnamese were not
drifting behind—they were the very bow wave of history. This Marxist-Leninist
perspective, as Lockhart, puts it, “freed Vietnamese history from the course of
French colonial rule . . . and had permitted radicals to imagine an independent
alternative for ‘the people’ within a socialist world order.”37
The details of the world revolution, however, were a bit thorny. The colo-
nialists and the capitalists were quite rich and well armed. They had profes-
sional armies of counterrevolutionaries and networks of spies for hunting
down agitators. The forces of reaction were adept at quashing ill-planned and
ill-timed attempts at upheaval. The records of the 1930 Yen Bai mutiny and
the 1940 Southern uprising (Khởi nghĩa Nam Kỳ) provided grim testimony to
this fact. Marxism needed a great deal more specificity. For Marx the ultimate
end of capitalism would come about by a spontaneous revolution of the labor-
ing classes. What precisely would trigger this revolution, or what would ensure
a sufficient scope to paralyze the forces of repression, remained maddeningly
vague. For as later critics noted, Marx assumed the end of capitalism as a matter
of scientific certainty almost spurred on by the impersonal forces of production
themselves.38 Despite being a future event, it was already an object of historical
knowledge by which the past and present could be understood.39 Lenin’s con-
cept of a political “vanguard” could partially alleviate the difficulty in Marxist
praxis, but its efficacy had only been proven against a quasi-feudal regime
already in its death throes.40 The colonial capitalists—such as Japan or the
French in Indochina—were a bit more tenacious. Also, the problem of Stalin’s
policy of cooperating with colonial powers to fight the Axis during World War
II undermined the Russian example for many Asian revolutionaries.41
Douglas Pike has noted that the Vietnamese idea of the “general uprising”
(khởi nghĩa) served as a “social myth in the Sorelian use of the term.”42 This
is quite correct and was the original contribution of Vietnamese Communist
thinking to the Maoist system.43 Unlike vague Marxism in which the rising up
of the proletariat was an assumed historical fact to be waited upon without any
clear guide to personal action, Georges Sorel’s notion of the “general strike”
was the combined action of all workers to simultaneously present the capitalist
hegemony with a situation so widespread and dire that it would cause the end
of the exploitative system and the dawn of something new. The “general strike”
would provide a central, directed consciousness to workers’ action; in other
words, it would constitute how socialist episteme and praxis could be brought
fruitfully into one.44 In short, this sort of myth provided a call to action within
the context of Western European capitalism.
A similar, if intellectually independent, adaptation of Marxist thought
developed in China under Mao. With a revolution removed from the urban
centers, Mao required a vehicle to build military strength and induce political
militancy amongst the population. Mao’s elucidation of the three-phase para-
digm of revolutionary, or people’s, war was his response to this need. Initially
Mao had focused on a theory of guerrilla warfare, but by 1938 in response to the
Japanese invasion, the Communist leader laid the groundwork for the entire
revolutionary development.
The pressing issue Mao addressed in On Protracted War was how to defeat
this much more skilled, better-equipped enemy. The key was that victory could
not be quick. To build the requisite strength Mao argued that in the first phase
China would be in the position of the “strategic defensive,” a time marked by
mobile warfare and guerrilla activity. Military defeat of the enemy was not pos-
sible at this time. Instead the revolutionaries should focus on merely staying
alive and denying the enemy any significant successes against the core of the
revolutionary forces. The enemy, by contrast, sees his designs frustrated, and
his economy and morale exhausted.45
The second phase in Mao’s concept is one of “strategic stalemate” in which
the enemy, having reached the culminating point of his offensive, finds his
energy largely spent. During this phase, according to Mao, he will “attempt
to safeguard the occupied areas and to make them his own by the fraudulent
method of setting up puppet governments.” This stage is marked by intense
guerrilla activity in enemy-controlled areas, while preparatory work is done
in base areas removed from enemy reach. During this phase political indoctri-
nation of the people is all-important. Beyond just building military strength,
the revolution must “mobilize the whole people to unite as one,” to “sweep
away all pessimism and ideas of compromise,” and finally to “prepare for the
counter-offensive.”46
Once the balance of forces has swung irrevocably in the revolution’s favor,
the third phase opens. Here at last the enemy would be expelled from the coun-
try, his hold on the occupied areas broken. The form of fighting then would
transition from guerrilla combat to mobile warfare fought in more or less con-
ventional terms. The “counter-offensive” phase, in Mao’s thinking and due
to the vastness of China, took the form of many strategic offensives.47 In its
Vietnamese variation it tended to collapse into one great, final action.
This Maoist paradigm was compelling to those who accepted it. In the first
place, it partially resolved the paradox of the Marxist position vis-à-vis indi-
vidual action; that is, that revolution is inevitable despite any particular indi-
vidual’s potential apathy. The paradigm’s aesthetic was also appealing to true
believers. Mao laid out his revolutionary war strategy in Hegelian dialectical
form, just as Marx established all of history as the working out of oppositional
tendencies that birth out necessarily the subsequent optimal means of pro-
duction. As each stage reached its inevitable crescendo the next would emerge
from the interplay while simultaneously rooting out “subjectivism” and assur-
ing the primacy of political considerations. In Mao’s thought this dialectic is
nested within the larger struggle between “just” and “unjust” wars, a process
that will end in the campaign to “eliminate all wars.” The matter of Maoist strat-
egy, therefore, is not fundamentally a practical matter, but is subject to the “sci-
ence of strategy” beholden to the “laws” of historical certainty.48
Assuming proper understanding and implementation (granted that this
is where so much of the argumentation resides), Maoist strategy was not sub-
ject to correction or emendation in its form or direction. Its appeal was not its
fundamental flexibility, but its inherent rigidity. As François Furet, discussing
Hannah Arendt’s conception of ideology, has noted, Communism was indeed
a “closed system of historical interpretation that denied the importance of
creative action.”49 This is to say that, once Mao derived his strategy from the
assumed scientific “laws” of historical development, it became impossible
to depart this course without running afoul of the political certainty of the
Communist vision.50 Armed with such irrefutable strategic science, Trường
Chinh was able to declare much later on that the “resistance will win” after
the “necessity” of passing through the three stages and apart from any hope
in negotiation.51
The so-called “Vietnamese Modification” to the Maoist paradigm began
very quickly and, contrary to later commentators’ belief, tracked very closely to
its Chinese original.52 In 1938, Vietnamese Communists began producing their
own syntheses of Maoist thought, most notably those of Nguyen Duc Thuy and
Nguyen Van Tay. These authors stressed the importance of unifying the peo-
ple (peasants not workers) behind the revolution. Nguyen Duc Thuy’s transla-
tions of Zhu De introduced Vietnamese Communists to most of the key Maoist
concepts, including the idea of forming chu luc (main force) units from guer-
rilla bands for use in mobile operations. While the formal concept of the three-
phased Maoist system was not fully articulated in Vietnamese at this date,
segments of writings reproduced from Zhou Enlai charted the course in as yet
inchoate form. By 1939 the Indochinese Communist Party (ICP) had formally
adopted a Maoist line.53
Although the first military publication by the People’s Army of Vietnam
(PAVN) itself was Ho Chi Minh’s Cách Đánh Du Kích (Guerrilla Tactics)
released in 1944, which does not mention the development of regular forces,
the Maoist strategic regime moved quickly into Vietnamese Communist think-
ing.54 Giap’s writings from immediately before the beginning of World War II
show him thoroughly conversant in Chinese Communist strategy.55 His later
works, produced shortly after the First Indochina War, describe the war in thor-
oughly Maoist terms, and whatever his later misgivings, they describe a system
that would “entail several phases” culminating finally in the “general count-
er-offensive.”56 For the Vietnamese the first step was the phòng ngự (defensive)
stage; this was followed by the second or cầm cự (holding) phase. Following
Mao’s model, the last phase is the tổng phản công (general counteroffensive).57
From nearly the beginning the efforts of Viet Minh military organiza-
tion in Cochinchina flowed logically from a commitment to the Maoist strat-
egy. The initial plan to pin the French within Saigon failed rapidly and so did
the short-lived strategy of “attack fast, win.” The hope that a weakened France
would give up her empire was dispelled. The Viet Minh recoiled before the
lightning strikes of Leclerc’s reoccupation force. As Nguyen Binh arrived in
Cochinchina in November 1945 he found the various resistance organiza-
tions in disarray. He immediately set to work to organize the disparate units,
homogenize them, and place them firmly under his leadership.58 From this
point forward, the goal of the southern Communist military organization was
to prepare regular forces to participate in the countrywide “general counterof-
fensive” against the French occupiers.
The first step was to reorganize the existing fighting bands into something
like a discernable army capable of concerted action. From the outset, how-
ever, Nguyen Binh’s span of control was limited. Although Binh was the Hanoi-
appointed leader of Zone VII, he could not count on the unquestioned loyalty
of all of his putative forces. The Cao Dai and Binh Xuyen remained skeptical
of his authority, until such time as they all removed themselves entirely from
the anti-French alliance. In reality even after he was elevated to overall com-
mand in Cochinchina, Binh’s sway was most pronounced in Zone VII, the
eastern portion of the country including Saigon and its environs. There had
been a brief attempt by armed forces from Zone IX (the far west of the country
beyond the Bassac River) to travel east to join with Binh’s nascent army closer
to Saigon. This policy (xuyên Đông—through to the East) foundered straight
away. Zone IX forces could not breach the French stranglehold on the west-
ern river network. In mid-February 1946 Zone IX leader Vũ Đức cancelled any
further attempts. Zone IX would instead focus on local issues, on government
improvement, and the eradication of non-Communist elements within their
area. Vu Duc withdrew most of his forces to the isolated U Minh Forest to pre-
vent their destruction. French action had stifled Communist military organiza-
tion in the far west at the level of the guerrilla band.59
In Zone VIII and particularly in Zone VII, military organization pro-
ceeded on a better footing. To replace the system of variegated units, Binh
instituted a regimen of chi doi (sub-units). Though given various translations
including “regiment,” the term chi doi is best understood as a proto-battalion,
though some of them were not much larger than a company at their inception.
This process began with a Viet Minh military conference (Hội Nghị Quân Sự)
in November 1945. The formation of chi doi 1 followed soon thereafter. Binh
recruited this formation from among disaffected Tonkinese workers at south-
ern rubber plantations and placed it under the command of Tran Van Hoi. It
took up operations in the vicinity of Gia Dinh.60 To strengthen and profession-
alize his units, Binh also started a staff training school in Zone VII that was
eventually expanded to include men from Zone VIII as well.61
By spring 1946 Binh had established sixteen chi doi in Zone VII, though
a large number of them were Binh Xuyen or Cao Dai formations simply rolled
into the chi doi taxonomy.62 Binh tapped into a variety of populations to build
his units. Some, like chi doi 13, were formed around union workers from
Saigon. Others had as their nucleus the so-called Nam Tiến (“Southward”)
forces recruited amongst Tonkinese youth and sent to Cochinchina to aid in
the war.63 Most had a regional complexion; for example, chi doi 16 was formed
in Baria, while chi doi 11 had its home in Tay Ninh. Lastly a number of these for-
mations were based in part on those units belatedly constructed by the Japanese
at the end of their occupation of the Indochina. Chi dois 5 and 25 had their gen-
esis after this fashion.64
War Zone VIII under Trần Văn Trà followed suit in the fall of 1946, aided
by the cessation of French hostilities under the terms of the modus vivendi (see
chapter 1).65 Upon his request two sections (phân đội) of chi doi 12 left Zone
VII to act as cadre for the formation of a new unit in Zone VIII, chi doi 14.
Location and Affiliation of Nam Bo Chi Doi, 1945–1946

Number Zone Affiliation Number Zone Affiliation
1 VII Viet Minh 14 VIII Viet Minh
2 VII Binh Xuyen 17 VIII Viet Minh
5 VII mixed BX 20 VIII Viet Minh
6 VII Viet Minh
7 VII BX/CD/DV*
8 VII CD/DV
9 VII Binh Xuyen
10 VII Viet Minh
11 VII Viet Minh
12 VII Viet Minh
13 VII Viet Minh
15 VII Viet Minh
16 VII Viet Minh
21 VII Binh Xuyen
25 VII mixed BX
*CD—Cao Dai, DV—Dai Viet
Subsequent units followed. Chi doi 17 was assigned to My Tho; chi doi 18 to Sa
Dec; chi doi 19 went to Ben Tre, while chi doi 20 stayed in reserve under zonal
command.66 Chi doi would eventually appear in Zone IX as well, but not until
the summer of 1947, and even then, their capabilities remained far behind their
eastern comrades.67
While some of these units would become quite effective—for example, chi
doi 10 under Huỳnh Văn Nghệ (see chapter 4)—most were at a fairly low level
of tactical and organizational sophistication in 1946. They were more impres-
sive on paper. The Executive Committee of the Nam Bo Viet Minh reported
to Giap in November of 1946 that only one chi doi in Zone VII and another
in Zone VIII were prepared for active operations. Zone IX was considerably
worse, lacking entirely in “mobile troops.” Though the Executive Committee
could report good progress in military organization in Zones VII and VIII, it
also noted that the eastern forces were badly equipped and short on foodstuffs.
The financial situation was exceedingly poor.68
But unlike in Tonkin, where the Viet Minh were afforded significant time
to prepare themselves for the French return, the Nam Bo revolutionaries had
little time to develop. Nguyen Binh’s situation worsened at the end of 1946 when
the Central Committee of the Party (Trung Ương Đảng Cộng Sản), in a pair of
directives from the later portion of December, informed their southern com-
rades that the most pressing task was to maximize difficulties for the French
in Cochinchina. It was imperative that the Nam Bo fighters do their utmost
to pin French resources in the south and so give the hub of the revolution in
Tonkin more time to prepare. The conflict, so they were told, was now a “total
war,” “protracted” and “difficult.”69 Saigon, however, was the “nerve center” of
the colonial power’s war effort.70 It was there that the Party should carry on its
principal effort. The city had to be crippled through subversion, sabotage, boy-
cott, and outright violence directed at the “puppet regime” and the “traitors”
who collaborated with it. The Party faithful were to sow a “sense of menace” in
the southern capital.71 Political action and armed endeavor were to proceed side
by side, in order to build a party both “strong and unified.”
Nguyen Binh did not need the Central Committee to give these orders,
however. Earlier in the month in a communiqué to Tonkin, Binh had urged
the northerners to essentially oppose the French on the beaches of Haiphong,
to construct artillery batteries to fire upon French warships and planes, and
to lay waste the cities before them, should the expeditionary corps make it
inland. Meanwhile he begged for authorization to launch an offensive in the
south.72 As Christopher Goscha has noted, Binh’s problem was that his chi dois
were not yet up to the task of fighting against French regular forces.73 What he
did have recourse to was terror. In another example of superfluous instruc-
tions, the Central Committee directives exhorted Binh to not forget the “sui-
cide assault team” (đội cảm tử xung phong) as the primary means of creating
disorder in Saigon.74
At this point the second pillar of Nguyen Binh’s southern campaign took
shape in earnest. Terror would remain a fixed feature of life in Saigon until
its dramatic curtailment in 1950, after which the city would resort to a rather
peaceful existence until late in the subsequent decade. Terror, as Wole Soyinka
reminds us, is a “statement of power, directed at the world.”75 For those directly
afflicted, terror entails a “loss of self apprehension: a part of one’s self has been
appropriated.”76 Any room for freedom and choice is radically curtailed. It has
a parallel but contrasting effect on others, who become enamored of access to
that power, who want to gain back some of that lost self and so commit them-
selves to engage the “thrill of membership in the quasi-state.”77 Either way, the
revolution prospers.
It must be remembered, however, that terror in Saigon was never an end
in itself for Nguyen Binh. Long before the Party’s Central Committee declared
in 1947 that “conservation and maintenance of long-term main force resis-
tance” was the key to winning the war, it was obvious in the south that beating
the French head-on was a bootless plan.78 Binh first had to establish base areas
where regular forces could be nurtured and trained. To accomplish this, he
needed to keep significant French forces tied down policing the major urban
center of Saigon, and if possible make a ruin of Cochinchinese economic life,
even though his own sustenance largely depended on the Viet Minh’s parasitic
relationship to the French-backed economy. By harassing lines of communi-
cation and the political/economic hub of Cochinchinese life in Saigon, Binh
could hope that a large enough portion of French forces would be tied up to
give him a free hand to develop his strength in various base areas—that is, the
forests east of Saigon, in the Plain of Reeds, and in the U Minh forest to the
far west.79
Terror combined with steady guerrilla action was Binh’s only recourse in
Saigon. The violent and rapid French invasion in 1945 left little conventional
Viet Minh military formations within the city. “Regular” units, insofar as that
term is appropriate for Viet Minh formations in 1945, withdrew to the suburbs,
while various paramilitary forces went to ground within the capital and awaited
instructions. When Binh arrived in late 1945 he reorganized these remaining
paramilitary/guerrilla forces into “action teams” (ban công tác) of variable size.
By the middle portion of 1946 Binh had six such teams operating in Saigon, the
largest reportedly being around five hundred members in size. Each team was
then subdivided into smaller units of twenty to thirty members. These teams
would engage in all manner of sabotage, supply, and intrigue. Binh entrusted
particularly sensitive sabotage targets, such as army headquarters and arsenals
or railway depots, to them.80
Their most infamous activity, however, was assassination.81 The preferred
method was the grenade attack, but the “action teams” also had special “dagger”
men for closer work. In the chaotic days of 1950 the number of grenade attacks
in Saigon would occasionally reach nearly one hundred per month.82 Later in
the war the Viet Minh of Saigon-Cho Lon fused the various “action teams” into
a more formalized battalion, primarily to economize on leadership and arms.
This became the infamous Volunteer Death Battalion No. 950 (Tiểu đoàn 950).
By 1950 this unit was subdivided into three platoons (trung đối) based on the
former action teams.83
Of course, of inestimable aid to Battalion No. 950 was the so-called “Red
Sûreté” of Saigon-Cho Lon (công an). Clearly modeled on the ubiquitous and
much-feared French internal security service, the cong an eventually spread
itself to most of the chief cities and provinces, but achieved its greatest penetra-
tion and efficacy in and around Saigon.84 Beyond the system of provincial sec-
tions that pertained elsewhere, in the capital the Viet Minh established a special
security section just for the urban area of Saigon-Cho Lon. This organization
had a number of subordinate structures: the first was an investigation commit-

tee focusing on intelligence and information (trình sát); the second was the
actual police (cảnh sát) responsible for maintaining public order and fostering
the appearance of Viet Minh legitimacy by building a parallel hierarchy to the
one maintained by the French-backed government; and the third were special
assault cells that the cong an maintained for direct action. Below these city-
wide services were communal sections operating at the level of the city quarter
and then down to the level of particular neighborhoods.85
Within the city, and in tandem with the “action committees,” the Viet
Minh’s public security services worked to propagate the Viet Minh party line
and to punish those deemed reactionaries and traitors in the hopes of squeez-
ing out any and all public life separate from official Communist cant.86 The cong
an would offer bounties for the killing of European or colonial soldiers. They
offered restaurateurs training on how to discreetly poison the food of French
military clients, though it does not seem that this was ever particularly effec-
tive.87 And while the killing of low-level Vietnamese “traitors” was generally left
to local militiamen, the cong an would direct the assassination of higher profile
personalities, such government police agents, academics, prominent business
leaders, and politicians.88 Finally the “Red Sûreté” raised funds for the Nam Bo
committee by organizing “kidnapping committees” that abducted businessmen
and intellectuals for ransom.89
On the espionage front Viet Minh security agents worked carefully to cul-
tivate relationships with potential informers. Instructional documents encour-
aged Viet Minh recruiters to give easy tasks at first and to keep track of those
who completed them efficiently. They furthermore highlighted the importance
of recruiting fewer, more capable agents rather than a mass of workaday liai-
sons.90 As one might expect, the Viet Minh security services recruited quite
heavily among young women, encouraging them to become concubines to
French soldiers and partisan troops. So positioned they were excellent sources
of information. It was also hoped that they would be able to assassinate their
unsuspecting partners once the word for the “general counter-offensive” was
given.91 The French would ultimately grow wise to this game and Nguyen Binh
had to advocate the use of older or less comely women for intelligence pur-
poses, as French agents had taken to watching attractive girls too closely.92
Espionage is naturally a re-occurring cycle of one-upmanship and the
cong an was therefore heavily invested in counterespionage. It directed its
agents to track down and kill known agents working for the French. This
activity would become more concerted as the war progressed. In time, orga-
nizations in Saigon would develop special cells concerned entirely with coun-
terespionage—for example, the eradication of French agents within certain
sectors of the city—and would at times place bounties on the heads of French
intelligence agents.93
In many respects Nguyen Binh’s campaign of terror and subversion in
Saigon was brutally successful. He succeeded for much of his tenure in estab-
lishing a regime of fear and uncertainty that would call into question the ability
of the government to protect the people. Terror and kidnapping made Saigon
extremely lucrative for the Viet Minh; they were the veritable “milk cow” of the
revolution, but also succeeded in alienating a great deal of the population.94 By
1948 certain intercepted intelligence reports, recovered by the French Sûreté
and coming from quarter bosses in Saigon, expressed grave skepticism about
the Viet Minh’s ability to regain control of the populace.95
Binh also tied down significant French resources in defense of the city.
From 1948 on, the French were compelled to create a special garrison battal-
ion just for Saigon-Cho Lon proper, as well as to make Saigon its own sector
complete with substantial forces tied directly to its maintenance.96 Binh failed,
however, in making Saigon the total resource sump the north demanded, as the
French did succeed in repositioning forces from south to north on many occa-
sions. His campaign of terror in Saigon also did not prevent the French from at
times delivering stinging blows to his base areas in the Plain of Reeds and else-
where. Nevertheless, French resources were sufficiently sparse and insecurity in
the capital was pervasive enough to compel commanders like Boyer de Latour
to forgo controlling much of the countryside and focus heavily on the political/
economic core of Cochinchina.
In these “evacuated zones” Binh worked diligently on building his armed
forces, which followed the Tonkinese model quite closely. In the north, as in
Cochinchina, there existed a three-fold, “pyramidal” structure to the Viet Minh
army.97 At the bottom of this structure was the dân quân (militia or popular
forces). With a scope of action limited to their immediate village or district,
the popular forces were the most rudimentary but also the most fundamen-
tal of the gradations within the Viet Minh military establishment. In theory
all males ages eighteen to forty-five in Viet Minh–controlled villages were de
facto members of the popular forces. The induction of “liberated” men into
these ranks constituted their first step into embracing the revolution. Le Duan,
who served as the commissioner for the popular forces in Nam Bo, viewed the
proper organization of the popular forces as the necessary means of stirring the
populace from its political “drowsiness.”98 The roles and responsibilities of the
popular forces were two-fold. The first was as self-defense units (dân quân tự
vệ). These men required only minimal training and basic weaponry. Their role
was not to fight French or partisan units per se, but to defend Viet Minh–con-
trolled villages, root out refractory elements if necessary, and work to supply
Regular
army
Regional forces
Popular forces (self-defense

militias, guerrillas, etc.)
Viet Minh military organization. Diagram created by the author.
regional or regular force units when called upon. Sabotage was their chief func-
tion, particularly the mining of roads, destruction of bridges or the cutting of
overland trails. As one would imagine, their military quality was highly vari-
able. In reviewing his forces Le Duan recognized that while some popular force
troops were undoubtedly “reliable and courageous,” most were “disorganized
and indecisive.”99
Popular forces had a second mission requirement to which they could
graduate. This was the role of guerrilla (du kích). Unlike the self-defense forces,
popular force guerrillas (dân quân du kích) had the function of accompany-
ing regional or regular force units on their missions.100 Guerrilla forces might
also be asked to harass posts slightly beyond their village limits or participate
in ambushes when necessary. In short, their mission as given was to “attack,
harass, blockade, [and] sabotage.”101 Guerrilla forces were marginally better
armed than their militia counterparts. As the war continued, most also took on
at least the appearance of military formations, though platoon/company seems
to have been about the limit of their organization. Most importantly, under
ideal conditions the best of the guerrilla troops were there to serve as replace-
ments to regional force units as they suffered casualties or looked to expand
their establishment.102
The second tier within the Viet Minh’s military was the regional forces (bộ
đội địa phương). Better organized and with a larger span of action (generally a
Nam Bo Trung Doan, 1947

Zone VII Zone VIII
TD AO* TD AO
Phạm Hông Thát Saigon 99 Ben Tre
306 Gia Dinh 105 My Tho
312 Gia Dinh 109 Vinh Long
308 Cho Lon 115 Sa Dec
307 Baria 111 Tra Vinh
310 Bien Hoa 120 Tan An
301 Thu Dau td 305 Go Cong
Mot
311 Tay Ninh td 307 Zone Cmd
Bộ đội lưu động Zone Cmd
Khu 7
*AO—Area of Operations
province) than the militiamen, the regional troops were the intermediary level
between the unwashed militia and the apex of the structure, the main force
(chu luc), regular units. Regional force units were organized like their more
conventional and later appearing cousins into companies (đại đội or DD) and
ultimately battalions (tiểu đoàn or td). Indeed, for the first two years or so of
the war in the south, Nguyen Binh’s command could aspire to no more than
regional forces. Main force units could not be conjured or trained immediately.
His initial complement of chi doi fulfilled only a regional force role. But in time
Binh would look to these regional forces to construct his highly mobile, geo-
graphically independent regular units.
The first step for Binh to be able to grow regular force units was the stan-
dardization of his rather hodgepodge system of chi dois, an ad hoc measure
with no real analogue in the military experience of the Viet Minh in Tonkin.
Greater military organization would indeed serve two mutually reinforcing
purposes for Binh. In the first place, greater and more uniform organization
and training were absolutely necessary given the long-term strategy of eventu-
ally launching the “general counter-offensive.” Secondly, Binh’s command over
his putative subordinates was far from absolute. Increasing uniformity was nec-
essary to ensure his control over events, leadership, and decision-making. But
while this goal was perhaps reasonable from a purely military point of view, his
emphasis on total control cost him dearly politically. To homogenize with con-
temporaneous military terminology in Tonkin and to further unify his com-
mand, Binh launched his first major reorganization in mid-1947 after he was
appointed commander-in-chief for the entire southern theater.103 Once again
the focus of this reorganization was in Zones VII and VIII.104 There he reflagged
all chi doi as “regiments” (trung đoàn or TD), though in terms of numbers the
title was again somewhat inflated.105 In terms of operational significance, the
creation of trung doan only gradually became an important reality. By way of
example, chi doi 10, one of the more capable of Zone VII’s units, still operated
under its original designation in early 1948 with an operational core of only
about five hundred men.106 These units rarely operated at anything like the reg-
imental level and their span of action only extended in most cases to several
districts.107
Nevertheless, by the end of 1947—at least on paper—Binh’s command had
converted to trung doan. In Zone VII, for instance, chi doi 1 became TD 301; chi
doi 2, 3, and 9 were rolled together to become TD 302.108 In Zone VIII chi doi
14 became TD 120, while the vaunted chi doi 19 became TD 99.109 In addition,
each zone created one chu luc battalion, theoretically untied from any partic-
ular province and held as a zonal reserve of sorts.110 As noted above, forces in
Zone IX remained far behind in terms of organization, numbers, and overall
tactical ability.
As 1947 progressed into 1948 and beyond, Nguyen Binh focused on improv-
ing his trung doan. He bloodied his units in action and drastically improved
their self-manufacture of weapons. Binh also pushed hard for the develop-
ment of radio communications to facilitate better maneuver.111 He continued to
demonstrate his interest in military education by opening a full, if clandestine,
military school in the south in December 1948.112 In fact, as Phillip Davidson
has noted, Nguyen Binh’s staff operations and organizational skill almost cer-
tainly exceeded that of Giap’s at this time. His development of a “general staff ”
and his continued focus on staff competency before analogous efforts on Giap’s
part lend credence to the rumor that Binh had received some manner of train-
ing at the Whampoa Military Academy in Nationalist China.113
Each trung doan was supposed to boast three tieu doan (battalions); in
practice this was not always the case.114 As the tieu doan matured and became
better equipped many of them developed into formidable, articulated fighting
forces. By 1949 Binh began the process of turning certain of these into power-
ful maneuver units. As time went on various trung doan would be called upon
to yield up the cream of their formations in order to establish the so-called chu
luc or main force tieu doan, that is, the vanguard for Binh’s planned assault on
the heart of French-held Cochinchina.
In the case of td 309 this process occurred in March 1949. The command
of Zone VIII ordered TD 105, 120, and td 305 to build and release companies
for use in the new tieu doan. This formation had three line dai doi (companies)
with an authorized strength of 152 men each; we can assume, however, that in
Td 309
DD 942
SPT PLT
(HQ Co)
Recon
PLT
Political
section
Reload
section
DD 939 DD 940 DD 941
Tieu doan 309 basic organization. Td (Trung Doi [platoon]); DD (Dai Doan
[company]); Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 309 (1949–1954), 23.
regular operations they frequently fell far below this figure. Excluding the com-
mand company and a host of other auxiliaries, the fighting infantry strength of
a full-up battalion in 1949 was just over 450 men. Interestingly, the influence of
Japanese deserters to the Viet Minh cause—even this late in the war—was far
from insubstantial. DD 941, for instance, had a Japanese officer as its deputy
commander. Finally, unlike many other units, chu luc formations were more
party-conscious than their regional compatriots; each company had approxi-
mately forty party members on its rolls.115
For weapons the tieu doan outfitted its companies more or less identically.
Each company received three medium machine guns, fifteen or so sub-machine
guns (most usually Thompsons), and approximately six grenade launchers. This
distribution was not universal, however. Other chu luc battalions—seemingly
those that operated closer to the highly fortified center of the French position—
had a fourth company that served as a heavy weapons detachment. In certain
cases, these units were equipped with a 20-mm cannon, several heavy machine
guns (Hotchkiss or Browning), and medium and light mortars (81-mm and
60-mm).116 Once again, we can assume that this array of equipment was highly
variable; Viet Minh weaponry was hugely dependent on what they could pilfer
from French units. Given the difficulty of transport, we can also assume that
there was little redistribution of weapons across regions to fill in gaps.117
Besides superior armament, the chief advantage of the chu luc battalions
was their much-increased area of operations. The most feared of Zone VIII’s
chu luc battalions, td 307, could be found in combat anywhere from the Plain of
Reeds over to Ben Tre, down to Tra Vinh and west to Vinh Long—a far wider
berth than the largely district-bound regional units.118 A clutch of captured
documents related to td 307’s operations in and around Tra Vinh reveals in
some respects how this kind of movement was effected. At least on the periph-
ery of the French-held center of the country, the Viet Minh had established a
considerable degree of organizational purchase; moreover, this efficacy could
and would be brought to use to support the movement and activity of Nguyen
Binh’s main force units.
Essentially, Binh instituted a contribution system. Provinces, districts, and
villages were responsible to Viet Minh “management committees.” These com-
mittees would receive stockage lists that detailed what supplies they would need
to assemble. The committees ordered the supplies confiscated from local fam-
ilies, according to their means. These supplies could be any number of things;
the most common were rice, corn, dried meat, sugar, and other foodstuffs.
Once assembled these supplies were considered “government stocks for the
combatants.” In some cases, people would be reimbursed for their supplies; in
most they would not.
At the appointed time, logistics officers from the units would come and
notify the various village committees of their parent units’ imminent arrival.
Various village associations would then be assigned to move the stocks to
selected delivery locations. It seems that political commissars accompanied
these officers to ensure that giving was both timely and done with the appro-
priate revolutionary ardor. While it can be assumed that td 307 still had to
carry a great deal of supplies with it, the ability to move from village to vil-
lage far from its normal base of operations and find ready provision was
immensely useful and further evidence of the growing power and sophistica-
tion of Nguyen Binh’s staff.119
Building chu luc battalions, however, was difficult. The process involved
fusing various trung doan into what the Viet Minh term liên trung đoàn (LTD).
These were inter-regiments or combined regiments formed by matching a chu
luc battalion with one or two others composed of regional troops. In Zone VIII
TD 105 was joined with TD 120 to form LTD 105/120 in early 1949.120 In Zone
VII Binh formed LTD 306/312. This unit had one chu luc tieu doan composed
of four companies, including a heavy weapons dai doi. Its second battalion, by
contrast, was formed from seven regional companies that maintained their dis-
persed operations. At this point, however, the regional companies functioned
more or less independently and it seems that no real battalion staff existed for
these units.
Probably to economize on staff, Binh equipped each LTD with a greater
array of staff functions, particularly in the intelligence field. An LTD main-
tained a large intelligence service with specific cells assigned to intelligence
gathering, espionage, and repression of presumed traitorous elements. By the
end of 1949 Nguyen Binh seems to have built two of these LTDs (105/120 and
306/312) with another in the process of formation (300/308).121
Nguyen Binh would ultimately form four such units, evolving them into
what could be called proper regiments.122 Eventually these units expanded their
establishment, reshuffled units, and took on new names. In the east was TD
Dong Nai including td 301, 302, 303, and 304. According to the French this was
the best and most reliable of the trung doan, as many of its soldiers were drawn
from the Tonkinese chi doi initially recruited from among the rubber planta-
tion workers. In the center in Zone VIII was TD Dong Thap Muoi composed
of tieu doan 307, 309, and 311. There was also the independent battalion td 300,
which operated near Saigon.123 To the west in the Cisbassac and particularly
near Tra Vinh was TD Cuu Long with battalions 308, 310, and 312. Farther out
beyond the Bassac River and including tieu doan 402, 404, and 406 was TD Tay
Do, probably the least effective of the chu luc formations.124
Once fully mobile, the new chu luc regiments had an impressive comple-
ment of troops and services, at least on paper. A chu luc regiment had three
battalions, each with three companies. There was also a large staff, a politi-
cal committee and additional companies of engineers and artillery (i.e., heavy
mortars at best). Finally, each line battalion had a “reserve” company, which
most likely served as a holding ground for replacements for the other three
dai doi.
Despite his organizational skill and success, Nguyen Binh’s efforts to build
his main force units did not come without a price. During 1949 he sped up the
effort at an accelerated rate that required Binh to strip his regional units of
troops to a significant degree. Documents related to a Viet Minh military con-
ference held in the far west of the country in 1951 sometime after Nguyen Binh’s
deposition mention that the general had hollowed out his regional forces.
If these reports are to be believed, Binh had reduced most regional units to
approximately 57 percent of their authorized strength.125
Viet Minh Regiments (TD)
Zones Loc Ninh
U Minh Forest
Zone East
Zone Center
Tay Ninh
Ben Cat TD Dong
Cambodia Nai
Thu Dau Bien Hoa
Mot Xuan Loc
Hoc Mon
Sai Gon
Chau Doc Duc Hoa
Cho
TD Thap Muoi Lon
Tan An Ba Ria
Ha Tien Long Xuyen My Tho Go Cong
Sa Dec Cap
Vinh Long Ben Tre
Saint-Jacques
Can Tho
Rach Gia
Tra Vinh
TD
TD Tay Cuu
Do Long
Soc Trang
Zone West
Bac Lieu SOUTH
CHINA
Ca Mau SEA
0 35 70
Miles
Chu Luc Trung Doan dispositions, 1950. Map by William Keegan. Based on graphics
found in Carte “Region de Travinh: implementation VM au 1-12-1950,” SHAT, carton
10H906, Service historique de la Défense, CHA, Vincennes. Copyright © 2018 by the
University of Oklahoma Press.
140
Comité de Comandement du Régiment (TD)
Command Committee of the Regiment (Trung Doan)
État-Major
Regimental Staff
Comité Politique
Political Committee Service démarche auprès de
l’ennemi
Service for approaching the
PC du Trung Doan enemy
Regimental Command Post
Effectif
Service Renseignement Service Sanitaire
Effectives (Strength) Intelligence Service Medical Service
Service de Recherche Intendance

Propaganda Research Service Supply Service
DD d’Artillerie Service de Liaison Usine armament
Artillery Company Liaison Service Arms production
DD Genie
Dai Doan Engineering Company École militaire politique
Politico-Military School
Tieu Doan Battalion Tieu Doan Battalion Tieu Doan Battalion
Dai Doan Dai Doan Dai Doan Dai Doan Dai Doan Dai Doan Dai Doan Dai Doan Dai Doan
(Company) (Company) (Company) (Company) (Company) (Company) (Company) (Company) (Company)
3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td

3 Trung Doi 3 Trung Doi 3 Trung Doi 3 Trung Doi 3 Trung Doi 3 Trung Doi 3 Trung Doi 3 Trung Doi 3 Trung Doi
(Platoons) (Platoons) (Platoons) (Platoons) (Platoons) (Platoons) (Platoons) (Platoons) (Platoons)
DD réservistes DD réservistes DD réservistes

Dai Doan Reserve Company Dai Doan Reserve Company Dai Doan Reserve Company
Organizational table for Trung Doan Chu Luc Tay Do. “Analyse: compte-rendu d’interrogatoire du nommé Tran Quang Dom, rallié le 28 Septembre
1950 au poste Caodaiste de Cantho,” prepared by Chef de Btn D. Fontes, Commandant le Sous secteur de Cantho., dated 3 October 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H4004. Original table © Service historique de la Défense, CHA, Vincennes.
Much maligned after his fall, Binh’s attempts to ramp up phase three of
the Maoist paradigm in 1949/1950 to the purported neglect of guerrilla activ-
ity were not without their rationale, the greater part of which was completely
in line with what Douglas Pike would term the “orthodox” line of Vietnamese
Communist thinking.126 One must not forget as well that Mao himself had
warned against those who would make a fetish out of guerrilla activity to the
detriment of advancement to the next stage of revolutionary struggle.127
Nguyen Binh’s decision to move forward to the “war of movement” in
1949/1950 had two distinct reasons underpinning it. The first was his overall
worsening posture vis-à-vis the French-backed Bao Dai government in Saigon.
Latour’s plan of a dense occupation in and around Saigon and the core prov-
inces of old Cochinchina made Viet Minh activity amid the enemy (địch vận)
very difficult. In 1949 Le Duan, the head of the Popular Troops and therefore
the one charged with carrying out dich van, noted that the French “cobweb”
strategy of building ever greater numbers of posts around key areas had created
immense “difficulties in the zones occupied by the enemy.”128 This was especially
problematic because by the end of 1949 popular forces were simply not up to
the task of taking posts within so thick a network of fortifications, as their own
leaders reported.129 Dich van would have to be limited to propaganda and sabo-
tage, especially directed at partisan troops, whom the Viet Minh assumed were
more sympathetic to their cause.130
This kind of low-level guerilla and propaganda activity required time.
Surprising as it may seem, this was time the Nam Bo Viet Minh did not think
they had or needed, per se. In the first place, the French hold on the center of
the country coupled with the stringent economic blockade of the far west had
reduced many Viet Minh units to near starvation status. Viet Minh agents in
Gia Dinh argued that the French were looking to “create famine” in their ranks
and that the willingness of Cochinchinese merchants to sell rice to the French
had reduced their co-revolutionaries to living in utter “scarcity.”131
The loss of much of the Plain of Reeds as an effective transit hub and the
stranglehold French forces exercised on the routes made communication and
travel nearly impossible. In early 1950 the Viet Minh in Vinh Long informed the
director of the Nam Bo liaison service that movement from across Cochinchina
had become extremely dangerous. “Liaison agents,” they reported, “were suc-
cessively killed or captured” en route from west to east. Even travelling up to Sa
Dec, the next closest town of any size, they insisted was difficult.132
Viet Minh spirits suffered as French economic warfare took its toll.
Deserters from Communist ranks reported that morale was “low.” Rice prices
in the black market skyrocketed and increasingly peasants in French-controlled
regions felt confident enough to refuse to sell foodstuffs to the Viet Minh.133
Deprived of access to the lucrative center of Cochinchina where in relative

terms commerce thrived, the Viet Minh were compelled to levy confiscatory
taxation on an already poor peasant base in the hinterland.134 Of course, falling
revenues in the far-flung provinces raised the need to make greater exactions
in Saigon through kidnapping and the like. These activities kept Binh’s forces
above water, but grated on the revolution’s popularity.
Farther out, Viet Minh cadres complained that the morale of the popula-
tion itself was diminishing “day to day.” One commentator warned ominously
that a large portion of the people had “lost their faith in the resistance and in the
success of our cause.” The population had grown tired of Viet Minh predation
as well as the endless succession of French raids, which burned crops, pillaged
hamlets, and made the safety of the government-controlled zone all the more
alluring.135 Even later Communist historiography admitted that Cochinchinese
society demonstrated a dangerous tendency to cluster around the tower net-
work, thus effectively separating the Viet Minh from the population.136
Something needed to be done, and soon. On the other hand, there was rea-
son for optimism. The Viet Minh noted that the French, for all their efforts, had
not succeeded in expanding their “conquered zone.”137 A proper Maoist would
have interpreted this situation as a sure sign that the period of “strategic stale-
mate” was ripening appropriately.138 Viet Minh observers also believed that the
French were foolish to entrust such an increasing portion of their defensive
apparatus to partisans and local troops. These “traitor soldiers” were assumed
to be feckless and frail, unlikely to stand against concerted assault. Moreover,
with an army cobbled together from various races, ethnicities, languages,
and classes, it was presumed that such a force necessarily “lack[ed] unity.”139
Interestingly enough, General Thomas Trapnell, the chief of the U.S. Military
Assistance Advisory Group (MAAG), made nearly identical remarks about
the efficacy of the French colonial army in 1954. He called its diverse soldiery
a “weakness,” and noted with disapproval how too many units were “diluted”
with local troops.140
Most importantly, at this stage in the war Nam Bo Communists still fol-
lowed events in China with rapt attention. There by 1949 the Red Army was on
the verge of casting its Nationalist foes into the sea. The Maoist system had val-
idated itself in its first attempt; why would it not bear emulating? And though
it may seem unrealistic in hindsight, at the time many Viet Minh cadres fully
expected the Red Army’s victory to echo throughout all of Southeast Asia. In
one fell swoop international Communism would carry all colonial regimes
before it. Even after his failures in 1950, Nguyen Binh remained convinced
that Indochina would soon form a “front” in an impending “third world war”
pitting Marxist internationalism against the Western powers.141 In 1948/1949
things had looked even more certain. Viet Minh propaganda played up their
“inevitable” victory, counting on the steamrolling Chinese to come down to
their aid.142 By the end of 1949 the Viet Minh found Chinese victory compelling
enough that they felt capable of reducing the “preparatory period of the gen-
eral counter-offensive.” They were further inspired by the apparent ease with
which the Red Army took supposedly Nationalist-held cities and extrapolated
the experience to their own situation.143
In the waning days of 1949 Binh was set to begin; perhaps the thời cơ (for-
tunate moment) had finally arrived. In November 1949 he ordered his trung
doan commanders to study their plans for action against the center of the
country with a view to undertaking the “general counteroffensive.”144 There is
even some reason to believe that Giap in the north approved of this course
of action, despite the later recriminations heaped upon Binh for moving too
quickly to the third phase. French intelligence—specifically the Service de ren-
seignement opérationnel (SRO)—obtained information that Giap himself had
ordered Binh in February 1950 to undertake a general mobilization of all the
citizens of Vietnam in preparation for the launching of the “general counterof-
fensive.”145 While it is impossible to be certain as to the authenticity of this tele-
gram, it is reasonable to believe that Binh’s orders were entirely in keeping with
a great deal of Central Party thinking. In his New Year’s message for Tet in 1950
Ho Chi Minh informed the populace that the war was entering a “new phase”
(giai đoạn mời), that all citizens were to do their utmost to help the rapid tran-
sition to the “general counter-offensive.” The year 1950, declared Ho, was going
to be the “year of decision” (năm quyết định).146 It was more than just rhetoric
for public consumption. In late January 1950 he wrote to the Party’s national
conference urging them to move quickly to the “general counter-offensive.” If
the chu luc and regional forces could be grown and organized, could attack the
material and spiritual power of the French in both “liberated” and occupied
zones, Ho felt confident of “great victory.”147
The published volume of Central Party Directives (Văn Kiện Đảng) for
1950, released in 2001, shows substantial dissent from Ho’s proclamation, how-
ever. Reports purportedly from that year demonstrate a belief by some within
the hierarchy that 1950 was not the “year of decision,” but instead was a “tran-
sitional” time during which the Party still faced substantial difficulties and
was unprepared for an all-out attack.148 It is impossible to know fully to what
extent these documents accurately depict thought at the time and not ideolog-
ical redaction performed years, if not decades later. Events themselves paint
a slightly different picture. By October 1950 Giap himself would hurl his reg-
iments against the border forts in Tonkin. Then in early 1951 he was closing
in on the Red River delta for what he assumed at the time would be the final
reckoning. Needless to say, it was not. If Nguyen Binh’s attack in 1950 repre-
sented a strategic mistake, a move made too soon, it was not one he alone
believed possible.
In either event Nguyen Binh closed out 1949 by launching shaping oper-
ations to the west of the French position in Tra Vinh. A series of quick, strong
strikes there, he hoped, would draw French reserves away from the center of
Cochinchina where the real hammer would fall. With the example of the red
giant to the north for inspiration, his chu luc battalions standing by, and the
force of materialistic fatalism on his side, Binh’s first assault would fall against
the Cambodian partisans who held much of the tower network in Tra Vinh.
Once his shock troops crushed their morale and sowed panic in their ranks,
general disarray would flow eastward driven on by a propaganda campaign
aimed at undermining partisans everywhere. Simultaneously, a renewed parox-
ysm of violence would seize Saigon itself, to be followed by the “general upris-
ing” of the citizenry. Or so went the plan.
But Mao had conceived of the third phase of his paradigm as a great “deci-
sive engagement,” of “mobile warfare” against a thoroughly demoralized oppo-
nent.149 To what extent he appreciated the reality of the situation we do not
know, but in fact what Binh was engaged in was a vast siege spanning entire
provinces. And though his initial assault troops—the chu luc units—were com-
petent and capable, his follow-on forces had been undermined to build the first.
Binh would also not be able to redistribute forces around the French periphery
with anything but the greatest of difficulty should adjustments be necessary. A
great deal hung on the opening roll of the proverbial iron dice.
Binh’s opponents, while certainly not united in race, religion or a common
language, were bound together by a shared fear and hatred of the Communist
yoke and their desire to avoid it. At their head as the offensive opened was
Général de Brigade Charles-Marie Chanson, protégé of Latour and a perfect
image of the bourgeois artilleryman. Slight and retiring, he seemed more book-
keeper than brawler. He certainly cut a far different figure from the one-eyed,
cutlass-wielding romantic that was Nguyen Binh. Still, in this unassuming but
highly competent commander, Binh would find his nemesis. In Saigon itself and
at the eleventh hour, a Vietnamese-run Sûreté would cut the heart out of Binh’s
revolution and lay its bloody remains on the altar of Communist ideology.
ch a p ter 6
La Geste de Chanson
The Battles of 1950
I n the writing of the history of the First Indochina War, 1950 is usually the
annus horribilis of the French cause. In the fall of that year the French stake
in Tonkin would come very close to unraveling completely in the unmitigated
disaster that was the retreat from Cao Bang and the brutal combats of Route
Coloniale 4. These fights cost the French Expeditionary Corps almost nine bat-
talions’ worth of crack infantry and brought the Viet Minh army to the out-
skirts of Hanoi.1 This catastrophe of the first order has overshadowed what
in Cochinchina was a remarkable year of success, indeed a miracle year for
Franco-Vietnamese arms and the nascent Saigon republic. Beginning in late
1949 the Viet Minh chu luc (main) forces of General Nguyen Binh would sub-
ject the French-backed position in Cochinchina to concerted, repeated assault
as they looked to initiate what they thought would be the irrepressible “general
counter-offensive” to upend the army of their adversaries while simultaneously
unleashing a wave of terror in Saigon to touch off a massive uprising among
the people.
The year 1950 constituted the clash and audit of two military systems
(i.e., strategies, forces, and perspectives) assiduously crafted over the previous
half-decade. The Viet Minh’s system was rooted in the notion of control, namely,
the rigid ordering of events, persons, and attitudes to achieve goals according
to a highly predictive linear scheme. For the Communists this scheme was the
Maoist three-phase paradigm to which all else was ruthlessly dragooned. There
was one notion of victory and one path by which it would be achieved. The
French in the south, by contrast, gave up on the phantasm of control. The best
for which a series of commanders could hope was a degree of coping. Theirs was
a restrained, open-ended perspective in which the path to victory remained
uncertain and satisfactory short-term solutions outweighed the illusive quest
for decisive victory. In the combats of 1949/1950 the second system bent under
the weight of enemy action; the first, however, splintered into ruin. That French
decisive victory arrived unheralded was the paradox of the whole prolonged
encounter.
146
the battles of 1950 147
In most every way imaginable Général de Brigade Charles-Marie Ferréol

Chanson, commander of French forces in Cochinchina by late 1949, was the
mirror opposite of his chief Viet Minh rival, Nguyen Binh. Though their careers
in the war saw them face off again and again, their personalities were quite dif-
ferent; in many respects they were perfect foils of one another. Binh was gallant
and quixotic, a commander’s commander. He had grown up on the margins, a
rake and a criminal, and had fought his way tooth and nail to the center of the
historical limelight. He appreciated women and strong drink. By all accounts
the one-eyed captain was terse and forthright in a way others found charis-
matic and compelling.2 Binh had swagger, panache, and a temerity that surely
irritated his nominal superiors as much as it endeared him to his subordinates.
On the other hand, Binh’s rival Chanson, who took over the Forces
Françaises du Viet-nam du Sud (FFVS) in October 1949 and was named com-
missaire de la République one month later, was a third-generation artilleryman
stretching back to his grand-père, Achille Chanson.3 Also like his father and
grandfather before him, Chanson was a polytechnicien, attending France’s most
illustrious science and engineering school, and graduated in 1922.4 Indeed he
looked the part of a long-serving staff officer. He was bespectacled and slightly
built—one might even call him gaunt, and some did. A one-off for an officer
of the French army where generals were preferred tall, dapper, and athletic,
Chanson instead had the air of “staff theorist,” according to his longtime friend
and subordinate, Pierre Guillet. 5 He walked with a noticeable limp and could
speak German fluently.6 Chanson was reserved and thoughtful. During his time
in Cochinchina he went everywhere by jeep, often alone. The Viet Minh even-
tually became privy to the general’s dangerous habit and actively sought to kill
him during his roaming of the countryside.7 To those he encountered—French
or Vietnamese—he was a careful listener and won over many locals with his
punctilious observation of every courtesy.8
At first blush Chanson certainly seemed the consummate staff officer.
At the start of the Second World War he had been on the état-major (mili-
tary staff) of the French 6th Army. Following the German invasion and sub-
sequent armistice he transferred to North Africa. At the U.S. arrival he joined
Eisenhower’s staff as the chief of the French section devoted to rearmament
(Groupe Française de Réarmament) and the building of Free French divisions,
evidently despite multiple requests on Chanson’s part that he be sent to a fight-
ing command. Nevertheless, Chanson’s superiors found him to be a skilled
administrator, an “elite officer to whom a great career is assured.”9 At the end
of the war he was promoted to colonel and reassigned as artillery commandant
to the Third Colonial Infantry Division (3e Division d’Infanterie Coloniale or
DIC) slated for redeployment to Indochina.10
Chanson receiving flowers from a Vietnamese delegation, June 1951. This picture was
taken at a ceremony on the occasion of the reopening of the route from Tan Lap to Go
Cong. SHAT, carton 10H176, © Service historique de la Défense, CHA, Vincennes.
But appearances are often misleading. Upon his arrival in Cochinchina

in March 1946, Chanson proved himself an able commander—dynamic and
innovative, decisive and industrious. Of course, the mobile portion of the war
was long over by then. Instead it fell to the numerically disadvantaged 3e DIC
to occupy ground and begin the thankless job of pacification. With no rea-
son to maintain a divisional artillery establishment, in April General Nyo gave
Chanson’s bigors (the military colloquialism for colonial artillerymen) the task
of holding the crucial Secteur des Vaicos, the area facing Nguyen Binh’s main
base in the Plain of Reeds and the only terrain impeding direct Communist
access to the capital.11
The most pressing task was organizational. Chanson’s men were nearly
all artillerymen of the 10th and elements of the 4th Régiments d’artillerie
coloniale (RAC). These units were designed to fire their pieces in support of
maneuvering infantry, redeploy as necessary, and shoot again. They were not
configured, equipped, or manned to hold ground. Unlike the infantry estab-
lishments that came to Indochina, artillery units could not hope to mesh the
needs of pacification into the schema of their existing tactical norms; they
were simply too different. This meant that whereas infantry commands could
and would try to shoehorn the needs of pacification into existing operational/
tactical perspectives, Chanson and his men were forced to abandon all and
quite nearly start afresh.12 Conventional artillery still had significant roles to
play in the war for Cochinchina, but massed batteries firing neutralization
missions at tank or infantry assembly areas would not be among them for the
foreseeable future. They put the nomographs away and learned to do some-
thing else.
That something was to become infantry. They were not entirely unprepared
for the challenge, at least theoretically. Aboard their boat bound for Saigon,
Chanson organized conferences among his officers to discuss what would be
required of them.13 Once in Vietnam, Chanson insisted that the staff in Saigon
provide him with at least a dribble of small arms and radios.14 There were never
enough. French supply at this stage depended almost entirely on British lar-
gesse and what could be extracted from the departing Japanese.
Even then, however, the need to occupy fixed positions would immedi-
ately exhaust his supply of manpower. Chanson could partially offset this diffi-
culty by a reorganization of his command. He reorganized his artillery units so
that each regiment consisted of two “groups” rather than a plethora of batteries,
to minimize the need for personnel-consuming staffs.15 Though not yet autho-
rized to incorporate the locals into French units, Chanson began fleshing out
his units with Vietnamese soldiers. In this initiative he followed the example set
by an artillery lieutenant named Pierre Bergerol, who had formed perhaps the
first Cochinchinese commando in late 1945. Not wanting to leave when the 9e
DIC went north to Tonkin and having had a great deal of success against the
Viet Minh, Bergerol requested that he and his commandos be transferred to
Chanson’s command.16 For his part Chanson recognized the utility and striking
power of the commandos and expanded the system in his sector.
His first move was to transform the spotting section of his headquarters
battery into a section d’intervention or groupe franc by culling some enterpris-
ing officers from other units and placing them in charge of a group of nearly
forty Vietnamese commandos. In a bit of wry humor and to ward off prying
eyes from the command in Saigon, which was still wary of bringing Vietnamese
into established units and having them treated as “regulars,” Chanson called
his commando team the sector’s “topographical section.”17 This concept quickly
spread throughout Chanson’s command; eventually every sector would be
required to form such units. Commandos became the main offensive arm of
the Vaicos sector. Later Chanson authorized his adjutant to form an entire com-
pany of Vietnamese from a population of ex-tirailleurs. This compagnie anna-
mite, which performed respectably in its own right, included among its ranks
several future Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) generals, most nota-
bly Dương Văn Minh or “Big” Minh, as he was later known.18 Through their
intimate familiarity with the language, culture, and geography of Cochinchina,
these commando units allowed Chanson’s command to punch well above its
weight in the first few years of the war. Without them Chanson’s force would
have been ill informed, inert, and overwhelmed. Instead his men gave as good
as they got, if not better. During his review at the end of 1946 General Nyo, the
commander of the 3rd DIC, remarked of Chanson: “[H]e is in every sense of
the word: a chef.”19
Toward the end of his time as chief of the Vaicos sector, Chanson wrote
to his own commander to establish what he believed should be the principles
guiding French action in Cochinchina, and by implication what was not hap-
pening enough heretofore. Ever the diplomat, Chanson couched his remarks
in terms of interesting insights he had found by perusing a book from 1896 by
a Commandant Chabord entitled Opérations Militaires au Tonkin.20 It was a
potentially awkward affair; not only was Chanson subordinate to General Nyo,
but the letter amounted to a metropolitan officer (Chanson was a latecomer to
the colonial army) lecturing a colonial general on his putative specialty. In any
case, the principle Chanson claimed to have discovered in the book was that,
despite their inclinations to the contrary, the army cannot reasonably expect to
be able to “militarily destroy” the Viet Minh. Quoting liberally from the author,
Chanson noted that it was incorrect to believe that pacification was somehow
a simple “reduction of classical warfare.” It was something else entirely. It was
not a new phenomenon, but in fact a reversion in some ways to older tech-
niques. Pacification required the active participation of the population. They
must be armed to provide for their own defense and made to take stock of their
own security dilemma. This in turn would assist in the mission of the regular
forces for, as Chanson argued, once protection became functionally meaningful
timely intelligence would be forthcoming.21 Far from being unimportant, the
“regular” forces had to process that intelligence and work incessantly to keep
the “rebel bands” out of the selected areas and to sever their ability to influence
the protected population.22
In February 1947 Chanson took command of the newly formed Zone
Center. The principles and methodologies that had formed the basis of his own
brand of pacification he now extended to the entire core area of Cochinchina.
Though he despised the meandering and often contradictory course of French
policy toward Cochinchina—for example, Cochinchinese independence,
the modus vivendi, the tacit union of the three kys and then formal union—
Chanson did his level best to inspire confidence among the Vietnamese popula-
tion.23 He believed, like Latour, in the workability and desirability of a separatist
Cochinchinese republic. He never truly reconciled himself to the Bao Dai solu-
tion of March/April 1949 that unified the three kys of Vietnam and effectively
quashed the rather forlorn hope of an independent southern state.
Perhaps more so than was absolutely warranted, Chanson had great faith
in the tiny middle class of Cochinchina to form a core of support that would
buoy the French effort going forward. The people of Zone Center were not,
as was the case further to the east, landless laborers struggling to exist amid a
world of plantations, but small, independent farmers. They were by and large
cool on revolution and suspicious of northern intentions.24 Both as the Zone
Center commander and later as overall chief in the south, Chanson would rely
heavily on this class of yeoman farmers and their small network of adminis-
trator representatives, the đốc phủ, as a bulwark of the counter-revolutionary
endeavor.25 To reinforce their natural predisposition toward a non-Communist
regime, Chanson matched military operations with the building of schools, the
opening of medical dispensaries, and the reconstruction of the organs of com-
merce (markets, roads, and bridges).26
Once Boyer de Latour became commander of the TFIS, Chanson modi-
fied his directives to provide route security by way of tower construction and
diverted some resources toward fortifying key population centers. Perennially
short of funds, Chanson also imposed a “tax” on Chinese merchants traversing
Zone Center to help pay for security projects.27 Because they were “foreigners”
whose good graces he needed not cultivate, Chanson was perfectly content to
fleece them when required.28 Pacification under Chanson did have a “hearts
and minds” focus, but it by no means attained to universal applicability. Some
mattered more, others less.
By contrast, near My Tho and Ben Tre there was also a sizable quantity
of Catholics. And as with Latour, Chanson believed overmuch in the efficacy
and advisability of making widespread use of Catholic Vietnamese support, a
perhaps unavoidable, but problematic inheritance for the Second Indochina
War. Even the commando units, like Commando Bergerol, relied extensively
on Catholic recruits. It must be assumed that this at times created the poten-
tial for abuse when these units operated away from Catholic hamlets. Indeed in
operations in Zone Center the UMDC of Jean Leroy would become a constant
fixture.29 Later, as overall commander in Cochinchina and as commissaire de
la République, Chanson pushed hard to give Leroy complete civil and military
power in Ben Tre, even authorizing him to collect taxes.30 Leroy’s successes had
been important and prevented the overtaxed French from losing control of Ben
Tre in the crucial period of 1947–48, but this policy amounted to the granting of
prerogatives to Catholics that he was simultaneously looking to withdraw from
the other sects. This fact was not lost on interested observers.
In military terms Zone Center under Chanson hummed with activity.31

Operations were limited in objective and short in duration (rarely more than
two days) to minimize wear on equipment. Once intelligence was forthcom-
ing, sector commanders launched raids to destroy Viet Minh depots and arms
fabrication centers. They looked to dislocate larger bands and keep a healthy
distance between them and the local Viet Minh cells operating in the villages.
More important than the body count in these actions was the amount of food
and supplies destroyed. It was a constant, never-ending effort, not unlike white
blood cells fighting off pathogens but relatively powerless to prevent reinfec-
tion from time to time. Operations were almost always combined, featuring a
fusion of river forces, regular infantry, and commandos, with artillery and avi-
ation in support. Chanson’s commanders were aware of their limitations and
in many ways were ahead of their overall commander, Latour, in this realiza-
tion. Reporting on his activities in the late summer of 1947, one colonel stated
that he had “neither the means, nor the desire” to occupy the impenetrable
Viet Minh haunts. Instead he would hold the whole of the “useful country”
while simultaneously preventing Communist bands from implanting them-
selves in the “pacified zone.”32
A profound converging of operational/strategic perspectives formed
during this phase of the war. From Latour at the top to Chanson and his sector
and quarter commanders, the method of waging war in Cochinchina achieved
a remarkable coherence across the hierarchy. In his “Political Directives” dis-
seminated to his command in 1948, Latour stressed that the program of pacifi-
cation could be divided into two “grand categories,” the “means of repression”
and the “means of attraction.”33 One set was not more important than the other;
both employed in conjunction were indispensable if Cochinchina were to sur-
vive. In Chanson this doctrine found a receptive audience; his zone was after
all probably the source of this insight. Whatever their personal misgivings
about one another—Latour hardly mentions Chanson at all in his memoirs—
Chanson’s assumption of command in Cochinchina at the end of 1949 brought
with it a tremendous continuity of perspective and emphasis.
That continuity, including its economic warfare component and the tena-
cious denial of the center of the country to Communist infiltration, had placed
the Viet Minh on the horns of a considerable dilemma. Starving in the east
and brooding in near exile in the west, the Viet Minh high command began
its great campaign. It would make Chanson’s first few months in command the
direst time in the war for Cochinchina. Nguyen Binh’s new chu luc regiments
were considerably stronger formations than anything the Viet Minh had fielded
previously. Through 1950 Binh would evolve them into all chu luc mobile regi-
ments. By the end of 1949 due to necessity and inclination, Binh launched them
against the tower network, beginning in the Cisbassac in Tra Vinh. Chanson
called it the “period of misery,” as for the first time since 1945 the Viet Minh
came out and opposed the French in open battle.34
The battle opened in the district of Cau Ke in early December. This region,
bounded on its west by the Bassac (Hậu) river, was mostly of Khmer stock.
In the early days of the war the French had taken the important transit hub
of Tiểu Cần, southeast of Cau Ke, without opposition. Despairing of finding
enough troops to occupy the region, the French were pleasantly surprised to
find Khmer men volunteering to form self-defense units rather faster than the
French could hope to arm them.35 By 1949 this region was strongly anti-Viet
Minh and policed by Khmer partisan bands operating from a network of posts
built along the major thoroughfares.36 The strength and reliability of Khmer
partisans allowed the French to economize greatly in their garrisoning of Tra
Vinh with regular units.
This also made the region a prime target for the opening Communist offen-
sive. The Viet Minh assumed partisan “puppet” troops were inherently unreli-
able. The relative isolation of Cau Ke from regular French troops meant that
the Viet Minh could pit their new chu luc formations against relatively weak
opposition with some time to spare before French reinforcements could arrive.
Also, Cau Ke lay just alongside Viet Minh–controlled areas south of Vinh Long,
which would allow the command of Zone VIII to amass its troops in relative
secrecy. Finally, taking Cau Ke would deny the French a significant manpower
pool in the Khmer population and necessitate a significant shift of resources
away from the capital to fill the gap. Unlike previous actions, the Viet Minh
command intended to seize ground after the campaign against Cau Ke, to dis-
arm the recalcitrant Khmer population, and to ambush incoming French relief
forces, all as part of the opening phase of the general counteroffensive.37
A prior attempt by an entire chu luc battalion to break into the French post
system in late December at Cai Lay, on the edge of the Plain of Reeds west of My
Tho, had miscarried badly. Though assailed on numerous occasions in a highly
coordinated attack featuring supporting fires and dedicated assault elements,
the Hoa Hao–held post managed to survive. Even with parts of the post cap-
tured, the defenders held on until a relief force and supporting artillery from a
nearby station forced the Viet Minh to break off the attack.38
This setback demonstrated the folly of striking directly at the center of the
French position where artillery and reserves were close at hand. The coming
campaign at Cau Ke would be more remote and, more importantly, feature far
more troops. The spearhead of the operation was tieu doan 307, considered the
best of the mobile units of Zone VIII. It was also superior tactically to what was
available in the vicinity of Tra Vinh. In late November the Zone VIII command
Ben Tre (Bến Tre)
Tra Vinh (Trà Vinh)
Cau Ke
Hieu Tu
Phong Phú Bac-sa-ma Hiep Hoa

Tiểu Cần Cau Ngang
Tra Cu Nhi Truong

Don Chau
Soc Trang (Sóc Trăng)
SOUTH
CHINA
SEA
0 10 20
Miles
Tra Vinh province. Map by William Keegan. Copyright © 2018 by the University of
Oklahoma Press.
154
released td 307, which began its covert movement out of the Plain of Reeds. It
crossed the Mekong in canoes on 25 November near Sa Dec, narrowly avoiding
French river patrols. From there it moved down to the Trà Ôn district of Vinh
Long province to link up with other forces under the command of Nguyễn Hữu
Xuyến, commander of LTD 109–111 (soon to be reflagged as TD Cuu Long).
For the fight the Viet Minh had brought in more than three battalions’
worth of troops. The heavy lifting, of course, was to be provided by td 307 and
308, the two chu luc outfits designated for the operation. There would be three
regional companies in support (DD 975, 368, and 889) in addition to a unit of
cong an (Communist sûreté) and local militia. Opposing them all in all was
perhaps a battalion’s worth of Khmer partisans divided into squad-sized block-
houses strung out along the route from Cau Ke to Tieu Can. Cau Ke itself,
the district seat, was a fortified town.39 Split between there and Tieu Can to
the southeast was approximately one company of the BMEO (Brigade marine
d’Extrême-Orient).40 Numerous waterways converged at Tieu Can, how-
ever, making it the obvious point at which the French would look to pump
in reinforcements. The key to the position was a larger post situated directly
on the route from Cau Ke to Tieu Can at Bac-sa-ma. A heavily armed platoon
of Khmer partisans occupied this post as well as the Buddhist temple directly
adjacent to it.41 This was the “mother” post to the various nearby blockhouses;
it if it fell straight away, maintaining the others was highly doubtful.
The Viet Minh operational concept was well crafted, given the overall stra-
tegic intent. The two chu luc battalions (td 307 and 308) would strike the main
posts; td 308 would attack posts southeast of Cau Ke and block reinforcements
coming from there, while the main effort went to td 307. This unit would assault
the network of posts along the route and then fall back into an ambush position
to await relief columns coming from either Tra Vinh or Tieu Can. The battalion
commander of td 307, Nguyễn Văn Tiên, selected the larger post at Bac-sa-ma
as the center point of his attack. While his battalion assaulted and took this
post, the regional companies would take the lesser blockhouses and systemat-
ically disarm the population. Local militia would be employed to sabotage the
route to prevent easy movement by motorized forces.42
Around 2000 hours on 7 December 1949 the lead company of td 307
approached the post at Bac-sa-ma and began laying down a base of fire to
support assault elements carrying grenades and gasoline-soaked fasces with
which they intended to set alight the walls of the fort. At the same time, the
regional dai doi moved in and surrounded the other blockhouses along the
road. Unfortunately for this first attack wave at Bac-sa-ma, Viet Minh intelli-
gence had failed. The post at Bac-sa-ma was of brick construction, and there-
fore relatively impervious to arson. The Khmer defenders drove off this assault,
Viet Minh troops storming a temple at Bac-sa-ma. As with many Viet Minh propa-
ganda photos, this picture may well represent an after-the-fact restaging of the event,
rather than the attack itself. SHAT, carton 10H636, © Service historique de la Défense,
CHA, Vincennes.
inflicting heavy losses on the Viet Minh. The troops of td 307 withdrew and
awaited the next morning to renew their attack.43
By midday on 8 December td 307 was prepared to strike again at Bac-sa-ma.
News had arrived that another post near Cau Ke had surrendered and better
reconnaissance of the position revealed that the post at Bac-sa-ma was situated
far too close to the temple, making it vulnerable to fire from that position. From
there attackers could fire into the post and perhaps set a portion on fire. At 1230
hours, Viet Minh attackers stormed the temple, scaling the walls and hacking
through doors and windows. After killing most of the defenders and driving out
the remainder, the men of td 307 turned on the post at Bac-sa-ma. They reposi-
tioned their machine guns to fire down into the camp. A hail of grenades ruined
one of the watchtowers and succeeded in setting the kitchen area of the post on
fire. This blaze spread quickly. By 1730 hours the defenders surrendered.44
With the fall of Bac-sa-ma the defenders of the lesser posts abandoned
their stations and fled into the bush. The Viet Minh torched the abandoned
blockhouses. At this point td 307, reinforced with two companies from td 308,
moved toward the giong (an elevated dune) near Phong Phú to establish their
ambush. About three kilometers long and six hundred meters wide, the giong
Burning of watchtower at Chong-No outside of Cau Ke. SHAT, carton 10H636, © Service
historique de la Défense, CHA, Vincennes.
at Phong Phu was covered in thick vegetation, affording excellent concealment.

It also sat astride the road from Cau Ke to Tieu Can. It directly abutted the only
bridge for some distance over a canal running perpendicular to the route west
of Phong Phu. Nguyen Van Tien, commander of td 307, elected to leave two pla-
toons facing southwest toward the river in case of an assault from that direc-
tion. The remainder of his forces he positioned in concealment on both sides of
the route. A smaller detachment (one platoon) he sent northwest to establish a
blocking position for forces coming out of Cau Ke.45
On 9 and 10 December the French sent reconnaissance planes to observe
the situation and worked furiously to move the 2nd Battalion of the 1st RTM
(Régiment de tirailleurs marocains) out of Ben Tre and down to Tieu Can to
rectify the situation. On the 11th the battalion stepped off and reoccupied Bac-
sa-ma without a fight. On the morning of the 12th, the Moroccans pushed out
a platoon to recon the situation near Phong Phu. The Viet Minh position was
so well camouflaged, however, the recon platoon did not discover the ambush.
The platoon leader sent a squad to cross the bridge and move toward Cau Ke.
The Viet Minh, knowing a more lucrative target was coming, exercised strict
fire discipline and did not engage this lead element. The remainder of the
Moroccan battalion moved forward shortly thereafter, obviously believing that
whatever Viet Minh force had been there had moved off.46 This was not at all
Viet Minh leading prisoners away after Cau Ke campaign. SHAT, carton 10H636,
© Service historique de la Défense, CHA, Vincennes.
unreasonable. Hardly ever did Viet Minh units opt for stand-up fights. And
nothing prior to this point would have led the relief column to believe they
were walking into an ambush staged by the better part of two entire chu luc
battalions. In 1947 Binh had gone so far as to order his troops to avoid com-
bat with North African units, feared for their skill.47 The coming combats were
something new.
Once the bulk of the battalion had entered the ambush site, the Viet Minh
opened fire from both sides of the road. Concerted resistance was nearly impos-
sible. The battalion commander was cut down and many men were taken pris-
oner.48 A unit from Cau Ke had set off as well to link up with the advancing
Moroccans, but was turned back by the blocking element east of the town. After
this setback a detachment of ten amphibious vehicles (most likely M29 Weasels,
or crabes) departed Cau Ke down the Bassac River to attack the Viet Minh posi-
tion at Phong Phu. This troop, however, had insufficient men to mount a full
assault. Instead the crabes poured fire into the giong from their deck-mounted
machine guns, allowing the remainder of the Moroccans to withdraw without
further molestation back to Tieu Can.49 Still, with new forces gathering in Tra
Vinh, Tieu Can, and Cau Ke, the Viet Minh thought better than to stay and
slipped out of Cau Ke back up toward their havens near Vinh Long.50
In total, though Nguyen Binh’s units had been unable to retain control of
the district after the fighting, the campaign in Cau Ke represented a remarkable
success for the Viet Minh. Binh’s men had demonstrated the ability to operate
at the multi-battalion level, supply large formations on campaign, and execute
complicated attacks against strong positions. They had also bested a vaunted
French unit in the field and managed to withdraw with their forces largely
intact and on their own terms. The affair at Cau Ke also seemed to validate,
the resistance at Bac-sa-ma notwithstanding, the Viet Minh belief that partisan
units in fixed fortifications would abandon their posts if pressed. The French
response, by contrast, was slow and ill coordinated. Obviously stunned by the
ferocity of the attack, regional relief units accustomed to localized incursions
attempted and failed to fight the breakthrough piecemeal. Without a doubt the
opening round went to Nguyen Binh and his chu luc battalions.
Emboldened by this success, Binh sensed his chance and struck again in
Tra Vinh in late December, seeking to expand and exploit the chaos he had
begun there. On 26 December elements of TD Cuu Long hit the line of posts
between Tra Vinh and Tieu Can, focusing their efforts at Hiêu Từ. At this point
Chanson had become aware that the attacks near Cau Ke represented some-
thing fundamentally different for the Viet Minh. He did not wait. He immedi-
ately requested a company of the BEP (Bataillon étranger parachutiste—Foreign
Legion Parachute Battalion) from the Expeditionary Corps general reserve and
dropped it into Hieu Tu. Caught off guard by the speed of the riposte, the Viet
Minh broke off their action.51
Still spurred on by the initial success at Cau Ke, Nguyen Binh’s forces in
Tra Vinh province regrouped and rearmed in little less than a month’s time.
They would pursue generally the same formula: isolate the region; attack a line
of posts and look to encircle and destroy the largest to discomfit the rest; and
lastly, prepare an ambush to meet onrushing relief forces. On the evening of
18–19 January Viet Minh forces cut the two main routes leading into the Cầu
Ngang district by digging out the roads and constructing abatis in multiple
locations in order to isolate the quarter. A first group then attacked the posts
running along the route from Hiệp Hòa down to Nhị Trường, including the
important bridge at Bàu Cát slightly north of Hiep Hoa, while a second moved
in to attack and encircle Cau Ngang itself. In the first stab four blockhouses on
the line from Hiep Hoa to Nhi Truong fell. The post in Cau Ngang and those
southward, however, held without exception. Unlike in the action against Cau
Ke, where partisans garrisoned nearly all the posts involved, in Cau Ngang a
fair number were occupied by more heavily armed garde units (Garde du Viet
Nam du Sud) and some regulars. Even so the post at Đôn Châu had to be evacu-
ated after having expended all of its ammunition driving off repeated assaults.52
A near simultaneous assault, carried out by the now famous td 307, went in on
27 January at a post in Cao Lanh up near Long Xuyen. The attack demonstrated
this battalion’s remarkable mobility, the unit having clandestinely marched
from Tra Vinh up to Long Xuyen in five days’ time. This attack, which Nguyen
Binh hoped would disperse the force of the French riposte, could not carry the
post and was ultimately called off after the arrival of a nearby dinassaut.53
French reaction speed and efficacy were also improving. Local unités d’in-
tervention set out immediately on 19 January pushing down to Bau Cat, though
they could make little headway. On the morning of the 20th larger reinforce-
ments were available, once again in the form of the 2/3rd RTM, this time with
substantial aviation in direct support. They pushed hard on the bridge at Bau
Cat and thanks to the planes overhead retook the village rapidly. From there
they drove on Cau Ngang and occupied the area the same day. By the evening
of the 20th Chanson had transferred two squadrons of crabes to Tra Vinh, car-
rying the 10th BTM (Bataillon de tirailleurs marocains) on board to Tra Vinh.
These reinforcements moved toward the threatened area around Don
Chau in the southern reaches of the province on the 21st. Supported by fire
from the minesweeper Pimodan and the aviation tender Robert Giraud, the
crabes and mounted infantry blasted their way into the besieged quarter. A
Viet Minh ambush against one of the crabe squadrons inflicted some casualties
(three killed, eight wounded), but was no match for the assembled firepower
marching into the region. Once again, Nguyen Binh’s forces were obliged to
break off their attack and retreat to the north and west of the area, though some
attempted to go to ground northeast of Don Chau (Long Hữu district) where
they had established a large supply dump and headquarters. They left about one
hundred dead on the field.
With the units already committed, Chanson now launched several nettoy-
age (clean-up) operations against the fleeing Viet Minh. Forays into Long Huu
netted a sizable quantity of rice (200 tons) and overran headquarters facilities.
Spotter aircraft directed artillery fire onto another band in this area and put it
to flight. French units aided by a dinassaut, which patrolled the Bassac River to
prevent escape to the west, then pursued the disorganized Communists as they
fled northwest past Tieu Can and beyond. Attempts to surround and destroy
the fleeing units continued until the end of the month. Once again artillery fire
directed by spotter aircraft proved very effective. By 31 January it was clear that
the Viet Minh, though wounded and running, had made good their escape. No
significant formation was destroyed or captured. Chanson recalled his mobile
forces to Tra Vinh and awaited the next blow.54
The delay would last more than a month. Binh’s forces had suffered heav-
ily in the most recent action and their forward supply dumps had been lost.
In similar circumstances (i.e., following a failed attack) in the Red River delta
in 1951, Giap would change fronts and try his luck elsewhere. Binh’s situation
in Cochinchina was different. Though his mobile units were certainly capable
of farther flung action, it was beyond his power to fundamentally change the
arrangement of his chu luc regiments out of contact with the enemy. When the
next attack came it would be in Tra Vinh yet again. Conditions for an offensive
against the center of the French position around Saigon had not been met. Binh
had not significantly altered the French circumstances. Zonal reaction forces
had proved, in the main, sufficient to counter his blows. He had not perma-
nently drawn away any forces from their positions guarding the capital.
Chanson and his intelligence establishment had adequately sniffed out
Nguyen Binh’s plan well beforehand.55 Writing to his commander in early
February 1950, Chanson typified the actions taken by Nam Bo thus far as rep-
resenting a “period of peripheral attacks” meant to “wear out” his reserves in
“vain” sparring matches on secondary battlefields. He felt that sooner or later
the main attack would come and fall on the core of the French position. In
the meantime, he would wait, not wasting precious offensive potential in wild
searches for Binh’s forces, as the Viet Minh chief wanted him to do. The time to
counterattack and make a ruin of the Viet Minh organization would come after
the power of the Communist offensive had been spent. But this hope would
prove partially illusory. The threat of a reinvigorated Viet Minh in Tonkin, with
the Red Chinese funneling them equipment and training, continued to draw
more and more French forces northward.56
Chanson’s ability to stay the course rested on the basic reliability of the
defensive network. If the system of posts came unglued he would have to move
forces out from Saigon, or abandon even greater stretches of otherwise pacified
territory to Viet Minh control. Though temporarily checked, Binh’s prelimi-
nary attacks were sorely testing the mettle of the men of the blockhouses. These
attacks came after an intense propaganda campaign meant to ruin their morale.
At the end of 1949 the Nam Bo command ordered its agents to undertake a
“week of dich van” (action among the enemy) to “shake the enemy adminis-
trative base” and spread despair, particularly among the partisan troops who
manned most of the tower system.57 Viet Minh instructions stressed that agents
should spread rumors and push bad news among the guards through mer-
chant contacts or through children.58 Lacking heavy artillery necessary for tak-
ing towers by direct assault, dich van was of cardinal importance. Further Viet
Minh directives argued that a necessary prerequisite for the general counterof-
fensive was to “sow fear, inquietude, the loss of sang-froid” among the partisans
upon whom the French so strongly relied. If they could not be made to join
the Viet Minh fight openly, Viet Minh agents should sell a brand of subversive
pacifism designed in such a way that partisans would come to “hate war” and
“renounce” it altogether.59
French intelligence recognized the danger in the closing weeks of 1949.
Leadership in Saigon stressed to subordinates the importance of the post system
and asked that they combat Viet Minh propaganda and the impression that troops
in the blockhouses were isolated and in poor spirits. Commanders should ensure
that tower troops were given adequate relief and that they were made aware of
their importance to the security of Cochinchina; that they were no less important
than the commandos who usually received the lion’s share of plaudits.60
Despite French efforts, the Viet Minh success at Cau Ke bolstered their
propaganda, which took its toll on the local troops in the blockhouses. At the
end of January, the troops of four posts in Zone East deserted, taking all their
weapons with them. In Zone Center, Cao Dai troops at another station deserted
their position, also with their weapons. The local commander found two more
Cao Dai posts to be in a questionable state; Chanson ordered them preventively
disarmed. He placed another three Cao Dai locations under “strict surveil-
lance.”61 This incident further soured Chanson on Cao Dai trustworthiness and
caused him to contemplate a more general disarmament of this sect’s forces.62
He ordered the Cao Dai “pope,” Phạm Công Tắc, to Saigon for a severe dress-
ing down. The sect leader only escaped the tongue-lashing after the spirit over-
came him and reduced him to murmuring Cao Dai scripture.63 In Zone West,
though no posts absconded wholesale, the early months of 1950 witnessed a
sharp increase in individual desertions.64
Serious as they were, the desertions of early 1950 were not sufficiently
broad to cause Chanson to alter his dispositions in any fundamental way.
He would not jeopardize his hold on the center of the country. This was a
tough pill for the Zone West commander, Colonel James Achard, to swallow.
Chanson wrote to him in early February explaining that, despite the strain
under which Zone West was now operating, it would need to rely on itself
for the foreseeable future. He ordered Zone West to redouble its efforts to
form viable reserves at the sector and sub-sector level, thus “making arrows
of all wood,” as he put it. Chanson was able to send the 1st BVN (Bataillon
Vietnamienne) to take over the relatively quiet sector of Bac Lieu, but had also
to remove on higher orders an important unit of Algerians from Ha Tien. On
the plus side, the 2/3 RTM, which was quickly becoming the fire brigade of the
west though a unit of Chanson’s own general reserve, would remain in Vinh
Long for the time being.65
And so, when Nguyen Binh struck at Tra Vinh again at the end of March,
he found a weakened but intact defensive system and the French unités d’in-
tervention well drilled in what would be required to repel the invaders. The
attack was meant to coincide with a parallel effort against the French position
in Soc Trang that would split the French response and hopefully allow for a
breakthrough in one or both regions. The Soc Trang operation, however, had to
be delayed due to lack of preparedness. The Viet Minh command in Tra Vinh
(LTD 109/111 soon to be renamed TD Cuu Long under Nguyen Huu Xuyen),
doubtless fearing their position would be discovered were they to wait, defied
orders from Nguyen Binh and decided to go on as scheduled and attacked on
the morning of 26 March.66
The initial assault would stretch on a front comprising mainly the districts
of Trà Cú and Tieu Can all the way down to the post at Don Chau. The main
attack, led by td 307, went in against the post of Bắc Trang near Tieu Can on the
morning of the 26th. Although the post held, elements of td 307 and 309 laid out
ambush positions along the roadways leading to Bac Trang. Unfortunately for
the Viet Minh their intentions and disposition had been observed by a French
dinassaut, who then directed the relief forces to make an amphibious land-
ing near Tieu Can. This reinforcement plus news of another French battalion
(most likely the 2/3rd RTM) moving southward toward Bac Trang forced the
Viet Minh to abandon their ambush positions and direct their efforts toward
their secondary target, the post at Don Chau.67
Conforming to their usual play, td 307 launched one dai doi against the
post itself while two more set in ambush to await French reinforcements. Two
successive assaults against Don Chau failed while the two ambush companies
on 2 April inflicted light casualties against an armored relief column coming
in from the north—a squadron of the 2nd RSM (Régiment de Spahis maro-
cains)—that nonetheless managed to reach Don Chau. Another amphibious
landing near Don Chau in the afternoon of 3 April temporarily salvaged the sit-
uation. The next morning, however, the second part of the Viet Minh offensive
opened in and around Soc Trang, temporarily drawing away reinforcements
westward from Tra Vinh province to the newly threatened sector.68
In an effort to freeze mobile forces in place, Nguyen Binh launched a gen-
eralized action against many sectors throughout Cochinchina, though none
of the rest reached to the level achieved in Zone West. Localized attacks near
Saigon, Hoc Mon, My Tho, and Ben Tre succeeded in taking some towers—five
in all—but were repulsed with local forces. Similar attacks northwest of Bien
Hoa were beaten back with substantial losses to the attacking Viet Minh. Other
localized attacks also went in around Can Tho and Long Xuyen.69 In Soc Trang,
by contrast, a more serious problem emerged, with strong Viet Minh elements
attacking north and south of the city to attempt to isolate it. Communist units
overwhelmed multiple self-defense posts manned by partisans along the routes
near Soc Trang and others withdrew under pressure. These far western tieu
doan, however, were not as skilled as their eastern counterparts and crum-
pled before the onrushing battalions d’intervention, which came in across the
river backed by strong naval and aviation support. Four days of scouring the
countryside reopened the routes and drove off the attackers, who according to
French reports had suffered serious casualties.70
Just as the situation in Soc Trang stabilized, Viet Minh units in Tra Vinh
surged forth again. This time td 309 hit Bac Trang near Tieu Can, while td 307
struck once more at Don Chau. Both posts held. Now relief forces flowed back
across the river to southern Tra Vinh combined with artillery and armored
units coming south from Tra Vinh City. On 12 April a large French column
driving into Don Chau fell into another td 307 ambush but managed to fight
through and relieve the battered and exhausted defenders. French mobile forces
remained in the area through the first half of April to clear out the attackers.
By May the Viet Minh had withdrawn to Vinh Long and then up to Sa Dec.71
This failure marked the end of Nguyen Binh’s spring offensive in 1950.
Despite its scale and ferocity, it ended in a whimper with Viet Minh chu luc reg-
iments forced to withdraw without any significant territorial gains and having
failed to destroy or draw away any significant reserves from the Cochinchinese
capital. Chanson’s forces had bent but were not broken. One can only speculate
as to what would have happened if Binh’s offensive had gone off as intended.
The delay of the Soc Trang offensive allowed French relief forces to establish
partial control of the situation in Tra Vinh before needing to attend to mat-
ters to the west. Deprived of quick relief, the few regular forces stationed in
Soc Trang (two companies of the BMEO and a section of artillery) would have
likely been insufficient to the task of defending their positions.72 But alerted to
the danger by the premature action in Tra Vinh, Chanson was able to redirect
reinforcements (including the 22nd Bataillon de tirailleurs algériens [BTA])
into the region in the waning days of March before the offensive against Soc
Trang opened on 4 April. The course of the war thus far had dictated that vic-
tory for Binh could only proceed along one extraordinarily narrow path requir-
ing immaculate timing and detailed coordination. The restrained nature of
French strategy, by contrast, gave a certain degree of freedom to its avenues
into the future, the scope of its responses and the range of acceptable outcomes.
Nguyen Binh’s failure to open up the western reaches of Cochinchina and the
end of the dry season necessitated a pause in action. He had to regroup and
weigh his options for his next move.73
Chanson used this time to push further the dislocation between east-
ern and western Viet Minh and to improve the economy of his own forces.
In April he received formal permission to hand over most of the remainder of
Ben Tre province to Jean Leroy and his Catholic militias.74 Now divested of the
responsibility for holding Ben Tre, Chanson’s hand-picked successor in Zone

Center, Colonel Noblet, was set to work to break any remaining lines of liai-
son between the western Viet Minh and those in the east. It was of course nat-
ural that, having failed in the west, Binh would look to redirect assets to the
east and try his hand there. To forestall this attack, Noblet launched a series of
large operations at the Plain of Reeds (Loire Bis—March 1950; Potager—May
1950); culminating in Operation Normandie in June. Featuring six battalions,
three amphibious squadrons in addition to artillery, engineers, and aviation,
Normandie drove into the southeastern portion of the Plain of Reeds in a large
pincer move aimed at a location where the Viet Minh were attempting to ware-
house munitions for transit east. In five days French forces destroyed numerous
Viet Minh facilities, large stocks of ammunition and explosives, and a sizable
quantity of transport vessels of various sizes.75
Chanson also used the break in enemy action to improve the circulation
of his units when they went back into action and their potency upon arrival.
In studying his subordinates’ ability to respond to crises, Chanson found that
the massive shifting of reserves into sectors under attack quickly overwhelmed
the meager local staffs’ ability to coordinate action. This shortcoming had
resulted in mistiming of counterattacks, problems with resupply of units in
combat, poor coordination with the higher headquarters in Saigon, and con-
fused evacuation of the wounded. To ameliorate this situation Chanson devised
a method to reinforce staffs: the détachement de renfort d’état-major (DREM),
or Staff Reinforcement Detachment. The goal, as Chanson saw it, was to allow
staffs to exploit the “possibilities of the moment” to their fullest extent. The
DREM included officers to take over communication with the higher head-
quarters, a logistics officer to help coordinate supply, additional radio person-
nel, a medical staff officer, and an intelligence specialist who would be able to
inform local commanders of potential Viet Minh units coming in from outside
of their territory.76
But of course, conventional warfare was only one of the cards Nguyen
Binh had to play in 1950. The necessary corollary of the general counteroffen-
sive for the Viet Minh was the general uprising, and in early 1950 they sought
to achieve that in Saigon. Several factors made the capital in the opening
months of that year especially vulnerable. To begin with, as a part of the agree-
ment that formed the new national Vietnamese government under the nom-
inal headship of Emperor Bao Dai, the previously French-controlled Sûreté
and police in Saigon were transferred over to the Vietnamese government at
the very end of 1949.
This was a tall enough order for the fledgling government, but Bao Dai’s
choice of prime minister in January 1950—Nguyễn Phan Long—made a bad
situation all the worse. It did, however, demonstrate a degree of latitude in action
for which Bao Dai is rarely credited. Historians since have claimed that French
disdain for Phan Long came from his cultivation of American contacts, but in
the case of Chanson, at least, the concern was very much security related.77 A
journalist, Cao Daist, and long-time critic of France’s return to her Indochinese
empire, Nguyen Phan Long wanted to strike a nationalist position and assert
Vietnamese independence vis-à-vis her former colonial masters. He believed
Vietnamese disunity the result of the French presence. If he could demonstrate
a true nationalism and commitment to distance himself from France, he sur-
mised, the rift between the Viet Minh and the other nationalist brands could
be quickly healed.78 His government included personalities from various fac-
tions in a misguided attempt to peel away nationalist contingents from the Viet
Minh. Of course, by 1950 the Communists had the Viet Minh infrastructure
well in hand. Those who were going to defect had already done so years before.
More concerning for Chanson was that Phan Long’s government coalition cre-
ated “dangerous instability” at the core of the Saigon regime and gave too large
a berth for “fishers in troubled waters,” as he put it.79 Phan Long inaugurated
his ministerial run by appointing a “humanist lawyer” and close friend as head
of the Vietnamese Sûreté, the wellspring of French colonial repression and now
the fount from which reconciliation would hopefully flow. The new security
chief released prisoners in droves, forbade the use of torture to extract informa-
tion from suspects, and ordered the police disarmed, as a sign of commitment
to peace and unity.80 It was the kind of timeless stupidity of which only the very
smart are capable.
Saigon slid into gibbering chaos. Propaganda, organized by the new “spe-
cial information committee for Nam Bo” (thông tin đặc biệt Nam Bộ), assured
the city it would soon fall to Binh’s battalions.81 It was no idle threat. Communist
units were stocking rice, water, and gas in the Saigon suburbs.82 Various units
that had infiltrated close to the city had begun constructing entrenchments as
defendable jumping-off points for what they believed to be the inevitable main
assault.83 Other units received their orders to cut routes, destroy bridges, and
station mortars where they could fire into the city center, all to isolate the cap-
ital, and thereby increase the sense of dread and hopelessness for the function-
aries of government and their defenders.84 The opening of Binh’s offensives in
the west only heightened that concern. The French command in Saigon scram-
bled to make emergency preparations in order to form new unités d’interven-
tion if the city to were to fall under concerted, conventional attack.85
The more pressing threat came in surreptitiously. With no real authority,
French police perforce stood aside as the red tide rolled in.86 Nguyen Binh’s
agents, his “battalion of assassins” (td 950) carrying their “black lists” of those
to be purged, moved in silently, one by one, to pick up their arms from supply
cells permanently within the city.87 The Viet Minh had begun forming addi-
tional “assassination committees” in 1949 and now they began entering the city
in force.88 Grenade attacks, a staple of life in the capital and for so long sim-
ply the cost of doing business, multiplied to staggering excess. Military posts
around the city were subject to constant harassment.89 Life oscillated between
an eerie silence during the Viet Minh–ordered strikes and the frenetic activity
of teeming demonstrations meant to advertise Nguyen Binh’s absolute control
over events.90 Markets burned while students protested waving the red pen-
nants of the Viet Minh and shouting “Long Live Ho Chi Minh!” throughout the
gem of French colonialism. Binh’s killers stalked the streets and with method-
ical precision gunned down enemies of the revolution. The Voice of Nam Bo,
the Viet Minh radio service, announced the murders over the airwaves and
reminded everyone what other reactionaries remained marked for death.91 At
the end of April Binh’s men demonstrated fully the impotence of their enemies
and killed Marcel Bazin, the former controller of the French Sûreté in Saigon.92
Bao Dai’s ill-fated experiment with reconciliation was at an end. The year
1950, the Year of the Tiger, would henceforth live up to its name. The emperor
replaced Nguyen Phan Long with a stalwart of old Cochinchina, Trần Văn Hữu,
and charged him to eradicate disorder within the city. Huu, in turn, reached
into the lore of the 1940 uprising and selected Nguyễn Văn Tâm to captain the
Sûreté and extirpate the rebels by whatever means necessary. Lucien Bodard,
who was in Saigon to witness the beginning of Tam’s reign, recalled he was a
tiny individual, “dried out and gnarled,” but nevertheless a perfect “instrument
of repression.”93 As a county delegate in 1940 Tam had ruthlessly destroyed the
rebellion in the province of My Tho, earning him the epithet “the Tiger of Cai
Lay.” In the confusion of 1945 Tam was arrested and tortured in turn by the
Japanese and the Viet Minh, though neither experience put him off the utility
of the system. The Viet Minh also killed two of his sons and so made themselves
an inveterate enemy of the father.94 Tam took his opportunity in 1950 to wreak
a bloody vengeance.
His right hand in all things was Mai Hữu Xuân, a top-flight police agent
and protégé of Bazin himself. Xuan’s first task was to reconstitute the thor-
oughly broken Sûreté. Viet Minh agents had infiltrated the organization, root
and branch; even Tam’s own secretary was a Communist agent. The network of
informers was also gone, disassembled by several months of virtual Viet Minh
rule within the capital. To rebuild all that had been undone, Tam informed
Lucien Bodard that he would have to do some “wickedness.” Xuan seems to have
employed torture liberally to achieve the purification of the Saigon security ser-
vices, a task Bodard claims was completed in a matter of weeks. Rebuilding the
informer network was a dicier affair. Fear of Communist retribution held sway
over the streets and tightened up otherwise loose lips. Tam nevertheless was
determined to turn the fear economy in his own direction.95
Bodard maintained that Tam formed his own band of killers, who took
to the streets not to arrest Binh’s assassins but to knife them in alleyways pour
encourager les autres (to encourage the others). Verifying Bodard’s claims has
been notoriously difficult, as no records for these kinds of activities were likely
kept. We can, however, corroborate some of Bodard’s blackguard tales—even
expand upon them—through French military records of captured Viet Minh
documents discussing their authors’ plight. One such report from late in 1950
explains that the security services had obtained a healthy sum of money from
the Ministry of the Interior to form a “special assassination committee” to kill
the Communist killers.96 Indeed, if Viet Minh reports are to be believed, and
in this case, there seems little reason to doubt them, there were numerous
killer teams hunting the “reds” at the behest of government and pseudo-gov-
ernment personalities. The aforementioned team apparently operated under
the auspices of the Minister of the Interior, Lê Tấn Nam. Another worked for
Nguyen Van Tam and the Vietnamese Sûreté—that is, the one from Bodard’s
account. A final one apparently worked for no less than Tran Van Huu’s wife,
a woman evidently not to be trifled with. A note from French military intelli-
gence declared the existence of such squads to be “perfectly likely,” but argued
perhaps they were not formal “assassination committees,” but merely groups of
“dagger-men” the likes of which many important Vietnamese bourgeois main-
tained during the period of disorder, a distinction without a difference if ever
there was one.97 Chanson almost certainly knew of their existence and chose
not to interfere. Adding to the already crowded field of anti-Communist hunt-
ers, the Binh Xuyen also formed an antiterrorism team that the French mili-
tary commandant in Saigon reported obtained “appreciable results.” The Binh
Xuyen even arrested some of the td 950 agents they found; this was no doubt an
unexpected show of restraint on their part.98
Free of the constraints of due process, the forces of counterrevolution and
their new regime of death got the information flowing once more. Bodard was
amazed at how the new Vietnamese-run security services in Saigon managed
to annihilate, in a matter of weeks, a rebel network that had resisted French
efforts for years.99 Though claims into the matter must remain speculative, this
process was probably aided by the high number of northerners who served as
Binh’s agents in Saigon. These men would have been identifiable by their lan-
guage, and largely unknown to local residents. Once Tam had made it clear how
deadly serious he was about rooting them out, finding them would not have
been exceedingly difficult. Reports are episodic to be sure, and hard figures
impossible to glean, but it seems very probable that the Tonkinese were over-
represented among Binh’s agents, a sure defect in an organization dependent
upon stealth and impenetrable societal camouflage. For example, in January
1949 French police arrested three members of “action committee No. 4” in
Saigon. Two of these men were northerners.100 Even the militia, an organiza-
tion that functioned almost entirely on strength of local contacts and intimate
knowledge of the region’s population, was placed in Tonkinese hands. In May
Tran Van Tra, the head of the Saigon-Cho Lon special zone, assigned a north-
erner to command of the city’s dan quan (militia).101
Binh’s brief rule in Saigon came undone. Information now flowed as a
steady stream, and in July 1950 Tam arrested, head Le Van Linh of the Viet
Minh’s “Red Sûreté.” With him came numerous documents that furnished
Xuan all he would need to gobble up the rest of the network. Days later Xuan’s
police captured the chief of the Viet Minh financial unit in Saigon. Xuan’s ubiq-
uitous police force arrested new Viet Minh operatives almost as quickly as
they arrived.102 The Communists attempted to go back underground, to simply
exploit Saigon for money, weapons, and supplies. Even this initiative was com-
ing apart. In the fall of 1950 the supply personnel for Zone VII were beginning
to fall into French hands.103 By the end of the year the French could report of
Saigon: “calm continues to reign.”104
The general uprising had failed. The all-or-nothing gambit on this and the
general counteroffensive had both come to the latter, nothing. Both initiatives
resulted in bloody reverses for the Viet Minh and unexpected successes for their
foes. In July Binh summoned the Viet Minh chiefs together to discuss their sit-
uation. The minutes of the gathering at least include no admission of defeat,
nor willingness to change course. The chu luc regiments should continue their
reorganization, becoming entirely regular establishments. Binh ordered they be
augmented to full strength in arms and men. Guerrilla and militia action would
remain limited and subordinate to main force needs. Despite everything, Binh
also decided to continue to complete the plans for an attack in the area north
and east of Saigon along three separate fronts. In the west Binh again ordered
Zone VIII to be prepared to launch diversionary operations in Tra Vinh. It was
the same song, different verse.
From the economic/financial front one can glean a better sense of the Viet
Minh plight, however. The Chinese were to be given import/export rights within
Viet Minh territory, provided they pay a fee. Efforts were made to increase the
price of rice, to increase revenues from its tax. At the same time the population
under Viet Minh control was to be directed to produce more food. Lastly, the
Viet Minh would need to “fully” accept French-backed currency in their occu-
pied zones.105 Clearly the plan to build a separate economy was foundering.
It was also obvious by the fall of 1950 that whatever pretense to main effort
status Nguyen Binh could have made in the spring, his was now a secondary
theater operating in support of what was happening in Tonkin. In May the Viet
Minh central committee had ordered a “general mobilization” of the popu-
lation in the north, to flesh out their regular units and allow them to move
from mostly guerrilla action to offensive, conventional warfare.106 In mid-
September Giap struck at Dong Khe in Tonkin, severing the supply line along
RC 4 and setting in train the disastrous events of October. The timing of Binh’s
own attacks, which the French dubbed the “High Waters” offensive, strongly
suggest, as the French surmised, that Binh was working on orders from the Viet
Minh central committee to fix French forces in the south and prevent the dis-
patching of reinforcements northward.107
As before, Binh opened with a thrust against Tra Vinh/Vinh Long on 2
October. The Viet Minh succeeded in taking and destroying two blockhouses
there.108 A second action by Zone IX units went in simultaneously near Chau
Doc. With water at flood stages in much of the west, the Viet Minh hoped to
isolate Cambodian garrisons there more easily, as most of the roadways were
under water.109 Chanson’s mobile forces were ready. In both cases, Dinassaut
8, operating out of Can Tho,110 rapidly transported in relief forces that put the
Communists to flight. Chau Doc was clear by 6 October and Tra Vinh not
long thereafter. Further spoiling attacks south of Soc Trang captured import-
ant stocks of Viet Minh supplies and destroyed a Communist headquarters.111
The principal portion of Binh’s “High Waters” offensive opened on 7
October in the forested region northeast of Saigon—otherwise known as
War Zone D. The attack developed along three fronts in this region: (1) along
the Saigon River closer to the capital to disrupt river transport; (2) along the
route from Loc Ninh; and (3) along the route stretching from Bến Cát to Dầu
Tiếng.112 The purpose of the first two efforts seems to have been aimed at sev-
ering lines of communication, while the third eyed the destruction of a signif-
icant segment of the French position to give the Communists an open staging
area closer to Saigon. Along the road from Loc Ninh ambushes multiplied; one
against a supply convoy was particularly destructive and witnessed some twen-
ty-five trucks strewn and burning at the roadside.113 While violent and pro-
longed, these attacks lacked the concentration and coordination of forces that
the Viet Minh had mustered in the spring. It seems Viet Minh battalions here
rarely acted as battalions; rather, individual chu luc companies were broken out
to support separate actions by popular forces.114
The ferocity of the assault was considerably greater along the road from
Ben Cat to Dau Tieng, where the Viet Minh subjected the entire French position
to constant and repeated assaults with new specially designed shaped charges
meant to compensate for the Viet Minh lack of artillery. This fact strongly sug-
gests that it was TD 300 that attacked the Ben Cat–Dau Tieng line.115 TD 300
had received explosive specialists from the armaments service of the Zone VII
in February 1950 to construct small petards for use in breaching fortifications.116
They now put their expertise to use. Nearly all positions had their walls sun-
dered. The post at Bến Súc suffered the most serious assault; as in previous
actions the Viet Minh struck hard at the center portion of a line in the hopes
that should a main post fall the remaining blockhouses would capitulate. Viet
Minh fighters, after repeated attempts, stormed the post. The defenders, two
platoons of regulars, drove them off after four hours of hand-to-hand fight-
ing within the walls.117 The damage otherwise was severe and the French had to
abandon the use of the overland supply route up to Dau Tieng.
The Viet Minh kept up the pressure along this front for several weeks.
Supply had to be effected via the river with support from Dinassaut 2 and
Cochinchina’s only Landing Craft, Gun (LCG 111), a shipborne gun plat-
form bristling with firepower that blasted its way up to Dau Tieng against
stiff opposition.118 Throughout the latter half of October into the beginning
of November, French joint raids, referred to as operations d’aération—com-
mandos and amphibious units including newly arrived LCVPs (landing craft,
vehicle, personnel)—tore into the Viet Minh positions north and east of
Saigon, destroying supply dumps and compelling Viet Minh units to retire
back into the forests.119 Though none of Binh’s units were drawn into deci-
sive engagement during these moves, the French ripostes reopened the threat-
ened area and punctuated the finale of Nguyen Binh’s last true attempt to take
Cochinchina by direct action. By November the command of Zone VII, the
one engaged northeast of Saigon, pleaded with Zone VIII to launch diversion-
ary operations to relieve the pressure against them, to allow them to break off
their action and withdraw in order.120
It was a quiet, unassuming victory in keeping with Chanson’s own charac-
ter. Indeed, Chanson’s own superiors only had brief time to take notice of what
he had accomplished. Léon Pignon, the High Commissioner for Indochina,
wrote to Chanson that first week of October after the outbreak and containment
of the last Viet Minh offensive, congratulating him on the “severe defeat” he had
inflicted on his adversary.121 Ten days later General Carpentier ordered all the
border posts in Tonkin along Routes 1 and 4 abandoned.122 Chanson’s success
became a historical footnote. The precipitous withdrawal from places not even
yet threatened (i.e., Lang Son) emboldened the Communists and within a mat-
ter of months brought Giap’s new army down to hammer on the gates of Hanoi.
Panic seized the French command in Tonkin. In December Nguyen Binh, it
seems, explored the possibility of a renewed, wide-ranging campaign against
Saigon to coincide with and reinforce the coming Viet Minh attack in Tonkin,
but it was not to be; his offensive power was spent.123
For Chanson it was the time to strike, and strike hard. Sustained opera-
tions against Viet Minh bands could yield impressive results against disorga-
nized opposition, but he needed to act quickly. By the end of December 1950,
in addition to territorial reserves, Chanson had at his disposal two unités d’in-
tervention in each of three zones.124 Nevertheless, the general knew it was not
enough. He wrote to his commanders just after Christmas in 1950 to explain
that although destroying the forces of the Viet Minh remained their fore-
most objective, as a practical matter this was not possible without the ability to
extend the zone of pacification in follow-up. Moreover, by January Chanson’s
command was stripped of critical units (four infantry battalions and an artil-
lery group) to reinforce the failing French position in the north. He protested
bitterly that these reductions could cost him the initiative, so sorely won over
the course of 1950, and that whatever their setbacks, the Viet Minh’s potential
for growth in military power remained greater than his own.125 No matter. The
situation in Tonkin, as Chanson knew, had grown far too desperate. Chanson
told Carpentier he would do all he could with what he had; he would not court
disaster by going too far. Something sub-optimal would have to suffice.
As he had laid out in December 1950, Chanson carried his campaign for
1951 forward on the basis not of wiping out Viet Minh opposition wholesale
(this was beyond his power), but instead completing their internal dislocation
by driving a firm wedge between their western and eastern halves. This involved
two efforts, one in the east and one in the west. In the east Chanson would push
back on Viet Minh formations, keeping them off Saigon. He would also strike,
multiple times, into the Plain of Reeds to prevent the Viet Minh from regain-
ing any transit points there. In the west Chanson planned a series of “offensive
destruction operations” aimed at breaking and/or driving off Communist units
along the Bassac River, smashing their offensive potential, and forcing them to
retreat farther west where they could do little harm. In this regard, Chanson’s
plan for zonal staff reinforcements also came to fruition. In January he was able
to assign an Organe de Commandement Opérationnel (OCO) to both Zones
East and West to facilitate the planning and execution of continuous action
against the Viet Minh.126
He began by clearing Minh Island between Ben Tre and Tra Vinh, an
important crossover point for Viet Minh moving between the two provinces.
For the remainder of the dry season in the west (about January to April),
Chanson launched a series of hard-hitting raids near Sa Dec, Vinh Long, and
Ha Tien (Operations Mandarine, Mangoustan, Pamplemousse, Sapotille), kill-
ing hundreds and overrunning important stockpiles of arms and munitions.
In the east he attacked along the Be River to destroy Viet Minh base areas and
workshops. In the Plain of Reeds Chanson unrolled another bevy of operations
that inflicted significant losses on Viet Minh battalions, and then another set of
actions, Operations Tourbillon (Whirlpool) I, II, III, and IV, that drove the Viet
Minh out of the plain’s southern reaches, rendering the Viet Minh Zone VIII
command all but superfluous.127 By the end of the dry season in May, Chanson
had effectively unhinged Nguyen Binh’s disposition and made concerted Viet
Minh action across zones a near impossibility. Communist base areas in War
Zone D were in tatters. Most of their main force regiments had suffered sting-
ing losses to the point that some chu luc battalions were broken up to work as
cadres for regional forces.
When the rains came in May it was none too soon for both the Viet Minh
and the French. Though Chanson’s forces had accomplished a great deal, the
tempo of operations had taken a tremendous toll on equipment and person-
nel. Chanson ordered his commanders to turn back to reconstituting their
reserves, back to pacification and the turning over of more areas to local con-
trol. Chanson himself set his mind to planning the next year’s campaign.128
The Viet Minh turned to Communist auto-criticism and the laying of
blame. At some point in the spring of 1951 the Viet Minh High Command in
Tonkin ordered Nguyen Binh to come north and answer for his failures. Initial
French intelligence suspected that Tonkin distrusted Binh for his “nationalist
tendency.”129 Later estimates determined that his removal had been effected on
the basis of military competency alone, not for any doubt concerning the “purity
of his political convictions.”130 At a Viet Minh military conference held in the
far west of Cochinchina in mid-1951 the participants made Binh their scape-
goat. He had pushed too hard for the general counteroffensive, had neglected
the political struggle and the regional units for the sake of his main force regi-
ments, and in so doing had succumbed to a certain “subjectivism” in his pros-
ecution of the Maoist formula. Nam Bo was not ready to move to the next,
offensive stage; the irony that Tonkin was not ready either seems to have been
lost on all involved. Cochinchina was a secondary front where the guerrilla
was the “principal mission” and mode of action.131 In late 1951 the Viet Minh
eliminated Zone VIII, substituting two “inter-zones” covering the whole of the
country. Le Duan took over command of a much-reduced Communist estab-
lishment and headquartered himself in the far west amid considerable orga-
nizational disarray. Coordination with Communists in parts of the east was
barely possible. The Viet Minh foreswore large offensive action and disbanded
their regimental system. Henceforth their goal would be to build and maintain
at least a single battalion per province. In many areas toward the center of the
country even this reduced goal was unobtainable.132
As for Nguyen Binh himself, he set off on his mammoth trek to Tonkin in
the summer of 1951 with a weak escort, twenty or so men. During this expedi-
tion Binh kept a journal chronicling his march through the wilds of the upland
jungle. He found the forest unsettling, seemingly endless; the people exotic,
primitive. By late July Binh and most of those with him had become seriously
ill. He reported needing to be carried in a cart. He had a debilitating cough,
fever, headaches, and rheumatism. Though it is unclear who exactly, Binh men-
tioned that some believed he was faking his illness in order to stop the jour-
ney and return to Cochinchina and his family. He wrote he could not go back
and give credence to the rumors that he valued family more than the revolu-
tion. By September the tiny band was not only sick, but near the point of star-
vation. The once proud Viet Minh chief and scourge of the south was reduced
to eating bamboo shoots for want of rice. The party had to work hard to avoid
French patrols and found it increasingly difficult to contact their liaisons, who
were supposed to guide them on the way. On 22 September Binh recorded that
if they were attacked, such was their disorientation, fatigue, and sickness, they
would certainly fail. On the 27th he reminisced about home and hoped his
children remembered him.133 Two days later Binh and his group fell into an
ambush mounted by Cambodian chasseurs. Binh was killed. French forensic
scientists identified his body in December by comparing fingerprints they had
taken from his arrest in 1929 when he was still Nguyen Phuong Thao, part-time
subversive and laundryman.134 His death put an exclamation mark on one of the
most successful campaigns by French forces in Vietnam, although one nearly
lost to history.
Conclusion
I n July 1951, Charles-Marie Chanson, chef of the Forces Françaises du Vietnam
du Sud, visited Sa Dec in the west of Cochinchina. This was not a harried
inspection trip, made alone in his jeep, as he was wont to do over the years.
On this occasion Chanson was on a sort of victory tour with Thai Lap Thanh,
the governor. The rains had brought the active portion of the spring campaign
season to an end. During that time and before, Chanson’s men had outdone
themselves. The year prior they had taken the best the Viet Minh could offer.
In spring 1951 they came back swinging and inflicted stinging reverses on their
opponents. The war was not over, far from it. But there was at least a moment
to appreciate what had been accomplished.
Around 0930 on 31 July Chanson, the governor, and a host of military dig-
nitaries stepped from their motorcade in the downtown portion of the city. The
group stopped ever so briefly to pay honor to the colors of the 2nd Régiment de
Spahis marocains, a unit that had proven its worth in the hard combats of the
last year or more. At just that moment, a young man, attired in the khaki dress
the French habitually gave to partisan soldiers, ran from the crowd of onlook-
ers toward the general, the governor, and their entourage. An explosion ripped
through the procession. The attacker had armed a grenade and stuffed it in his
pants before making the dash. Chanson and Thai Lap Thanh were grievously
injured; their attacker was killed immediately. The governor died shortly there-
after at the military infirmary in Sa Dec. Chanson was taken by air to Vinh
Long where he succumbed to his wounds.1
The investigation into the murders of Chanson and Thai Lap Thanh was
marked by considerable confusion, as various groups tried to avoid blame
in endless cycles of mutual recrimination. For days the identity of the young
assailant remained uncertain. Eventually French security services determined
with some hesitancy that the attacker was a disaffected Cao Dai soldier. A Viet
Minh ambush mounted along the Sa Dec–Vinh Long road later on the day of
the assassination lent credibility to the rumors that the Viet Minh had some
hand in the episode.2 Other intelligence held out the possibility that the attack
had been organized at high levels within the Cao Dai hierarchy, certainly pos-
sible given Chanson’s disdain for the group.3 Whatever the case, the Voice of
Nam Bo announced Communist elation with the news on 2 August.4 General
175
de Lattre, who was also not long for this world, addressed a letter to the troops
of Chanson’s command. “He led you from success to success,” he wrote. “With
you, I bow to this admirable chef.”5 In Paris at a service for Chanson in Les
Invalides, Jean Letourneau, the minister for the Associated States, called the
general “the most loyal friend” of the Vietnamese people, to whom he gave “his
heart and faith.”6
Despite Chanson’s success, the fight for Cochinchina did not end in 1951. It
ground on at a reduced level throughout the remainder of the First Indochina
War and into the next. Periodic operations were required to break renewed Viet
Minh attempts to regain a foothold in the Plain of Reeds. As the war shifted
even more heavily to the north, the FFVS never disposed of sufficient forces
to greatly expand its zone of action, but short-duration raids of the kind prac-
ticed and perfected by Latour and Chanson kept Viet Minh units at bay and in
a constant state of reorganization. Progressively the French handed over more
and more territory to the new Vietnamese government. By the end of 1952 the
French had given over most of the “old provinces” to the Vietnamese. In June
1953 the Vietnamese took control of Vinh Long and Tra Vinh and the grow-
ing national army took responsibility for security operations in My Tho. In
September the Vietnamese acquired Soc Trang as well.7
Constantly denuded of forces, however, the French never could break away
from their reliance on the sects, and in the years after Chanson’s death they
actually expanded sect roles in most cases, particularly those of the Hoa Hao
and Binh Xuyen. The sects resisted integration into the Vietnamese National
Army and the French were not in the position to force the issue. The task for the
new South Vietnamese government, which came into existence after the agree-
ments of July 1954, would be delicate. An effective leader would need to finesse
the sects and incorporate them in slowly, if for no other reason than to main-
tain the cohesion of the anti-Communist front. Though American counselors
advised the new South Vietnamese leader, Ngô Đình Diệm, to court the sects,
he refused. Their mere existence was a quasi-feudal legacy of French colonial-
ism, and Diem was, if nothing else, anti-French. The United States, for its part,
did not hold the sects in high regard either, and so did not make firm demands,
despite prodding from the French and Lawton Collins, the U.S. special repre-
sentative in Saigon at the time.8
The resulting Diem government was a “remarkably insular” collection of
friends and family that quickly embittered the sects, whose leadership took to
plotting his overthrow.9 Rather than inoculating the country against further
Communist infection, Diem spent 1954–55 bribing factions within the sects to
secure his advantage and maneuvering a recalcitrant army into line. In 1955
during the so-called “sect crisis,” Diem displayed remarkable tenacity and
conclusion 177
ability to manage the conflict that saw the Binh Xuyen purged from the streets
of Saigon. Enhanced by this victory that most outside observers found unlikely,
Diem was able to enact his own “national revolution,” which though outwardly
anti-Communist in tone, saw the government also suppress the sects with all
of its newfound power.10 French influence evaporated thereafter as the United
States put its weight behind Diem, at least for a season.
The vexed years of the government of South Vietnam make clear that the
French had certainly not solved problems in Cochinchina—indeed some of
their actions created new ones. The point is that even with a much greater com-
mitment of men and material, the United States could not solve the problem
either. Finally despairing of outright solutions, America abandoned the south
altogether to a foreign invader in 1975.
The issue is one of perspective. Wars, in most cases, do not solve problems.
At best, they allow issues to be handled at an acceptable level of risk within
a rubric of shifting political realities and objectives. The perplexing miasma
of policy objectives, or lack thereof, within the Fourth Republic can serve to
highlight the basic slipperiness of most foreign policy issues for most nations.
The policy confusion of the Fourth Republic may have been worse than it has
been elsewhere in the Western world, but surely the difference is one of degree
and not of kind. Policy cannot be universally coherent for democratic states,
because politics are not fundamentally coherent. Politics are not coherent
because people’s ability to even define their problems is incomplete and ever
transforming. Most human problems are in this sense “wicked.”
Military strategy that advertises itself as a direct route to reach a policy
objective will, in most cases, create heightened and unrealistic expectations on
the part of the populace, and lawmakers for that matter. The rise of stateless and
quasi-state enemies has only made this problem more apparent as violence sub-
limates to lower levels where the state’s supposed monopoly over warfare is eas-
ily flouted. To plan the end from the beginning is almost never possible. Except
in exceedingly rare cases, this question is fundamentally unanswerable, because
the problem is maddeningly ill defined and changes immediately upon engage-
ment. It is a potential recipe for total detachment from the wider world, as France
found after the even greater problems posed by the war in Algeria. But this type
of course is not possible, at least not for long. When the tiger turns man-eater,
the villagers cannot just ignore the threat. The problem that gave rise to talk of
war will not go away because one ignores it. The options are two: accept the slow,
dedicated, restrained work of hunting, or burn down the jungle. The twentieth
century was typified with theories—some put to actual use—for doing the latter.
The war for Cochinchina showed that it was possible to manage a con-
flict in such a way as to keep options open, to find several paths going forward,
despite (even because of) political instability and a dearth of resources. In 1954,
1955, 1965 and beyond, the future for South Vietnam was still unsettled. It was
not a given that Communism would triumph. Such was not the case in Tonkin,
where a less circumscribed perspective made 1954 the end of all non-Commu-
nist options for the foreseeable future.
And yet, because of the way in which the war was fought through 1951
in Cochinchina, others would get their chance at the helm. Pierre Boyer de
Latour and Charles-Marie Chanson certainly wanted to solve the problems they
encountered; they realized, however, that this was beyond their power. Both
commanders were far outside their element in Cochinchina. Latour, the skilled
mountain warrior, found himself presiding over a vast swamp, while the artil-
leryman in Chanson was left searching for answers in occupational duty. The
need for rapid adaptation became a stark reality for these men in ways that
might not have been the case had others been in their places. With no clear
end in sight, these men worked instead to keep chance alive for another month,
another year. For a long time, the strategic perspective in Cochinchina was
fundamentally inward looking. Not able to influence events beyond its narrow
margin, Latour and Chanson essentially opted to improve their forces, to put
flesh on the bones of their position. It was a homeostatic response, defensive
to be sure, but also much more. It was an effort to cope rather than control. It
came from knowledge and acceptance of limitations.
For Latour these limitations became unavoidable in 1948 with the failure of
operation Vega and the disaster of the Dalat convoy. Thenceforward his man-
agement of the war in Cochinchina fell back onto colonial patterns of conflict,
leapfrogging in a sense the French experience (and his own) of World War II.
Colonial warfare for France had always been conducted on the cheap, for the
real danger, generals and politicians alike recognized, lay beyond the Rhine.11
It required immense adaptation to local circumstances and an intrinsic rec-
ognition that warfare is a semi-perpetual state, that outright victory is usu-
ally ephemeral, and, finally, that the true horrors of war are brought about by
an overwrought desire for peace. That was certainly the Communist problem.
Colonies, for men like Latour, were outposts of French civilization. What mat-
tered was not the ability to meet and defeat the challenges once and for all; what
mattered was that the colony survived.
This is not what happened in Tonkin. Seen from early on as the main the-
ater of the war, Tonkin never benefited from the kind of strategic neglect that
helped Latour in Cochinchina. Though France in Tonkin hardly occupied much
more than the Red River delta, French policy also did not sanction a contracted
presence. To rectify this situation, the French tried the maquis approach in the
far north, but also perennially found the wherewithal to try big operations.
conclusion 179
Paradoxically, these efforts were successful enough (e.g., Operation Lea, Na

San, Hoa Binh) to repeatedly justify trying again. Being the “decisive” theater
meant that the command would find the resources (usually stripped from the
south) to try just one more time. Lastly, with no clear mandate to abandon any-
thing, French commanders in the north had to conceive of some way to defend
a vast territory. The boar hunt, however inappropriate to circumstances other-
wise, was the only way. French commanders in Tonkin, with few exceptions,
never freed themselves from the notion that with just the right timing and pro-
vided sufficient reach, they could force the Viet Minh into an apocalyptic bat-
tle on unfavorable terms. It would be a battle that would settle things once and
for all. For the most part, the idea of a longer-term strategy of accommodation
and retrenchment did not occur to anyone who mattered. The reasons for this
were more structural than anything else. Furthermore, even when great disas-
ters threatened to render the pattern threadbare, minor victories would salvage
some vestige of belief for its continued utility. The fact that this suited French
tactical proclivities made this arrangement deceptively attractive. It also meant
that French action in Tonkin oscillated violently between incredible aggressive-
ness along with a tremendous expenditure of resources and an almost supine
defensiveness as they were forced to restock, replenish, and refit. French activity
in Cochinchina, on the other hand, hummed along, constant and rarely over-
reaching. By dint of circumstance the French commanders-in-chief and their
proxies in Tonkin needed to end the war; in the south when the war would end
was an open question. Due to attention fixed on the north, it was not a question
anyone bothered to ask.
What these two parts of Indochina do not demonstrate is some rigid split
between counterinsurgency techniques and conventional warfare, as frequently
conditions the debate surrounding the American war in Vietnam. Conventional
operations were standard, reoccurring aspects of both the war in Tonkin and in
Cochinchina. Counterinsurgency (or pacification) was also a central feature of
both efforts. The primary difference was perspectival. Conventional operations
in Tonkin were, on the main, intended as a way to beat the Viet Minh, to force
a peace. By contrast, in Cochinchina conventional operations after early 1948
generally had as their immediate objective the destruction of transit sites, the
degradation of Viet Minh material resources, and aération, as Chanson so fre-
quently phrased it. They were trying to let their own position breathe by keep-
ing Viet Minh bands back and the roads open. Latour and Chanson carefully
watched that their operations did not create so much wastage as to outweigh
the damage they were doing to their adversaries.
Returning to economics as really a brand of strategic thought, as Latour’s
chief of staff Édouard Méric recognized, H. A. Simon countered the classic
anthropology of the limitless economic thinker with one of his own—“admin-

istrative man.” Here we find an individual whose rationality—that is, the abil-
ity to select and pursue optimal solutions—is much more limited. Simon’s word
was “bounded.” Simon discovered that the man’s faculties have intrinsic, ines-
capable limits. He found that that these limits come about in part because of
“the inability of the human mind to bring to bear upon a single decision all
aspects of value, knowledge, and behavior that would be relevant.”12 Instead
of being able to step back and evaluate all options (a highly time-consuming
process in itself), decision-makers tend to fall back on a “stimulus-response
pattern,” with routinized patterns being the most likely to come forward. This
should come as no shock. Armies of course opt for doctrine and routine in the
face of uncertainty.
But that they do this has long been regarded as anathema for the profes-
sional strategist. “Strategy,” Colin Gray tells us, “entails prediction at several
levels.”13 This prediction means forecasting the path by which military power
will bring about an end-state in harmony with the policy objectives. It means
controlling. For an army to suddenly look inward and fall back on routine
devised in different situations for different ends is, according to thinkers like
Gray, the functional “negation of strategy.” It calls to mind the conflation of
ends and means, a “kind of goal displacement which sees armies promote their
own organisational advantage as the supreme good.”14 It is not strategic behav-
ior, perhaps may even be antistrategic behavior, and it leads militaries to lose
focus on the real purpose of the war. It is also, more often than not, all that can
be achieved.
Military history is inherently instrumental. The war for Cochinchina
shows us that strategy is best not thought of as a course to be charted, but as a
map to be made and improved upon. We do not need or want a narrow itiner-
ary detailing how we can reach some spot where the tiger may be, or may have
been; what we need is an idea of where to go, and what to do and not to do
when we do not find him there.15
Appendix A
Commanders of the Corps expéditionnaire français
en Extrême-Orient (CEFEO)
Philippe Leclerc August 1945–July 1946

Jean Étienne Valluy July 1946–February 1948
Raoul Salan (interim) February 1948–April 1948
Roger Blaizot April 1948–September 1949
Marcel Maurice Carpentier September 1949–December 1950
Jean de Lattre de Tassigny December 1950–January 1952
Raoul Salan February 1952–May 1953
Henri Navarre May 1953–June 1954
Paul Ély June 1954–June 1955
181
Appendix B
Commanders of the Troupes Françaises de
l’Indochine du Sud (TFIS) / Forces Françaises
du Vietnam du Sud (FFVS)
Georges Yves Nyo February 1946–July 1947

Pierre Boyer de Latour July 1947–October 1949
Charles-Marie Chanson October 1949–July 1951 (KIA)
Raoul Salan (interim) July 1951–September 1951
Paul-Louis Bondis September 1951–October 1953
Roger Gardet November 1953–End of War
182
Appendix C
French Military Acronyms
BCCP Bataillon colonial de commandos parachutistes

BEP Bataillon étranger parachutistes
BM Bataillon de marche
BMEO Brigade marine d’Extrême-Orient
BPC Bataillon de parachutistes coloniaux
BTA Bataillon de tirailleurs algériens
BTM Bataillon de tirailleurs marocains
BVN Bataillon Vietnamienne
CEFEO Corps expéditionnaire français en Extrême-Orient
CLI Corps léger d’intervention
DB Division Blindée
DBLE Demi-brigade de Légion étrangère
DBMP Demi-brigade de marche parachutiste
DIC Division d’infanterie coloniale
DREM Détachement de renfort d’état-major
Dinassaut Divisions navales d’assaut
FFVS Forces Françaises du Vietnam du Sud
FTCV Forces terrestres du Centre Viet Nam
FTEO Forces terrestres d’Extrême-Orient
FTNV Forces terrestres du Nord Viet-nam
FTSV Forces terrestres du Sud Viet-nam
GCMA Groupement de commandos mixtes aéroportés
GM Groupement mobile
GONO Groupement opérationnel du Nord-Ouest
GRC Garde républicaine de Cochinchine
183
184 appendix c
GTM Groupe de tabors marocains

OCO Organe de Commandement Opérationnel
RAC Régiment d’artillerie coloniale
RACM Régiment d’artillerie coloniale du Maroc
RC Route coloniale
REI Régiment étranger d’infanterie
RIC Régiment d’infanterie coloniale
RICM Régiment d’infanterie coloniale du Maroc
RSM Régiment de Spahis marocains
RTA Régiment de tirailleurs algériens
RTM Régiment de tirailleurs marocains
SASB Special Air Service Bataillon
SDECE Service de Documentation Extérieure et de
Contre-Espionnage
SRO Service de renseignement opérationnel
TFEO Troupes françaises d’Extrême-Orient
TFIN Troupes françaises de l’Indochine du Nord
TFIS Troupes françaises de l’Indochine du Sud
UMDC Unités mobiles de defense des Chrétientés
ZOT Zone opérationnelle du Tonkin
Appendix D
Vietnamese Glossary
bộ đội địa phương regional forces

cầm cự equilibrium or holding stage
cảnh sát police
chi đội sub-unit
chủ lực main forces (i.e., regulars)
công an security forces
Đại Đội (DD) company
dân quân militia
địch vận action among the enemy
đội cảm tử xung phong suicide assault team
Hội Nghị Quân Sự military conference
khởi nghĩa general uprising
liên trung đoàn (LTD) inter-regiment
mặt trận military front
phân đội section
pháo binh artillery (including mortars)
phòng ngự defensive stage
rachs canals; small streams
thời cơ fortunate moment
thông tin đặc biệt Nam Bộ Nam Bo special information committee
tiểu đoàn (td) battalion
tổng phản công general counteroffensive
trình sát intelligence service
trung đoàn (TD) regiment
trung đối platoon
Trung Ương Đảng Cộng Sản Central Party Committee
185
186 appendix d
Trưởng phòng Quân giới Nam Bộ Chief of Southern Military

Việt Nam Quốc Dân Đảng Vietnamese Nationalist Party
(VNQDD)
Notes
Introduction
1. It seems the English did have wild boars of their own, but for some reason the
French were convinced that they did not measure up to the giants on their side of
the channel.
2. Cummins, The Art of Medieval Hunting, 96–102.
3. Horne, La Belle France, 60.
4. Here we make a brief exception for the “methodical battle” schema of 1940.
5. Corbett, Man-Eaters of Kumaon, 4.
6. It took famed tiger-hunter Jim Corbett over a year to kill the Chowgarh Tigers in
1930. The range of these particular man-eaters was more than five hundred square
miles. Corbett, Man-Eaters of Kumaon, 101.
7. Burnand et al., Grandes Chasses Coloniales, 33.
8. “Directive No. 9,” prepared by Général de Brigade Chanson, Commandant les
Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud, dated 26 December 1950, Service historique
de l’armeé de Terre (hereafter SHAT), Vincennes, France, carton 10H3746. Charles-
Marie Chanson described Cochinchina as the place where “le temps ne joue pas.”
9. If there is any doubt about their initial mindset, it is interesting to note that one of
the first French operations in retaking Indochina was Operation Gaur, named after
a species of large wild cow native to Cochinchina, the hunt for which Sarraut found
much more satisfying. In temperament, the gaur is much like the wild boar.
10. Lịch Sử Nam Bộ Kháng Chiến, 414. The official Vietnamese history states that the
Viet Minh had amassed thousands of militia for this campaign in addition to their
regular forces.
11. General Charles-Marie Chanson, “Compte-rendu des operations dans le sous-sec-
teur de TRAVINH,” dated 18 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4369. See Lịch Sử
Nam Bộ Kháng Chiến, 414.
12. “Menace rebelle dans la province de Tra Vinh,” prepared by Colonel de l’Estoile,
Chef d’État-Major, dated 31 December 1950, SHAT, carton 10H906.
13. General Charles-Marie Chanson, “Compte-rendu des operations dans le sous-sec-
teur de TRAVINH,” dated 18 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4369. The Moroccan
units involved were the 1/10e BTM and the 2/3e RTM.
14. Brocheux, The Mekong Delta, 200.
15. “Bilan de l’année 1952,” dated 5 February 1953, prepared by the 2e Bureau, Forces ter-
restres du Sud Viet-nam, SHAT carton 10H3746.
16. “Évolution des forces V.M. du Nambo de Septembre 1945 à Janvier 1952,” dated 10
January 1952 and prepared by État-Major/2ème Bureau, Forces terrestres du Sud
Viet-nam, SHAT, carton 10H3746.
17. The death of Nguyen Binh is the subject of some controversy. French journalist/his-
torian Lucien Bodard claimed Binh was assassinated on Giap’s orders; see Bodard,
The Quicksand War, 196. French intelligence suspected this as well (“Bulletin de
renseignements No. 3903,” dated 14 October 1951, SHAT, carton 10H4005), but
187
188 notes to pages 5–8
eminent historian of the First Indochina War, Christopher Goscha, disagrees and
believes his demise was purely accidental; see Goscha, “La Guerre par d’autres
moyens,” 57, and Goscha, “A ‘Popular’ Side of the Vietnamese Army,” in Goscha
and Tréglodé, Naissance d’un État-Parti.
18. Hunt, Pacification, 5. Also see “Missions et Articulation du Corps Expéditionnaire,”
dated 25 October 1954 and prepared by 3ème Bureau, SHAT, carton 10H157. This
document makes clear that Quang Ngai province was “yet to be occupied” at the
time of the French withdrawal from active operations.
19. The use of the word “complexity” here is meant in distinction to things that are
merely complicated, i.e., problems that can be taken apart and solved piecemeal are
merely complicated, not complex. Complexity privileges the whole as greater than
the parts and does not admit of thinking about the issues apart from the relation-
ships among the various parts. See Bar-Yam, Making Things Work, 24.
20. Those interested in the American war in Vietnam will perhaps draw inferences here
to the supposed split between the war of “big battalions” as practiced by William
Westmoreland and the shift to counterinsurgency under his successor Creighton
Abrams. See Sorely, A Better War. As is increasingly recognized, the case for this
divergence is overstated. Philip Davidson, Westmoreland’s chief of intelligence,
noted even before Sorely’s work that Abrams introduced no new strategy in 1968.
See Davidson, Vietnam at War. The argument here that there were, in fact, two dif-
ferent wars going on in Tonkin and in Cochinchina has the ring of Sorely’s case, but
it is considerably different.
21. Valluy quoted in Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 183. This decision is all the
more ironic given that Valluy had previously argued that “[s]i . . . nous réussissons
à detacher la Cochinchine de la guerre . . . nous aurons réglé plus qu’aux trois quarts
la questions indochinoise [if we succeed in detaching Cochinchina from the war . . .
we will have settled more than 3/4 of the Indochina questions.]” Gras, Histoire de
la Guerre d’Indochine, 177.
22. Salan, Mémoires, 2:109.
23. Longeret et al, Les Combats de la RC 4, 296.
24. “Note d’Orientation No. 7 relative à propagande et contre-propagande destinées
aux troupes autochtones,” 25 Mai 1950, SHAT, carton 10H995.
25. Bodard, The Quicksand War, 267.
26. Spector, Advice and Support, 127.
27. Salan, Mémoires, 2:338.
28. Ibid., 2:348–49.
29. Favreau and Dufour, Nasan, 166.
30. By way of example, the government of René Mayer, which appointed Henri Navarre
and approved of his ambitious plan to end the war, lasted scarcely five months. See
Rioux, The Fourth Republic, 1944–1958, 464.
31. Porch, The French Secret Services, 457.
32. Dunn, The First Vietnam War.
33. Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 57–62.This course was adopted after a brief
and ill-fated attempt to contest Saigon openly.
34. “Notes sur les Effectifs Nécessaire,” Lt-Colonel Huard, dated 9 December 1945,
SHAT, carton 15H113.
35. Goscha, “La guerre par d’autre moyens,” 36.
notes to pages 8–10 189
36. “Bulletin de renseignements,” dated 9 April 1948, SHAT, carton 10H4984. The
chief of French military intelligence in Cochinchina, A. M. Savani, noted that by
January 1948 Saigon saw 189 terrorist attacks, which resulted in 51 French and 18
Vietnamese deaths. Some of this early tactical effectiveness and skill with explo-
sives may have been due to the presence of a large number of Japanese soldiers in
the Viet Minh ranks. The French estimated that in Nguyen Binh’s initial band of
800 or so men about 150 were Japanese. See also: “La pacification du Sud Viet-nam,
Février 1946—Février 1954,” dated 15 March 1954, prepared by Capitaine Menard of
the 3ème Bureau, FTSV, SHAT, 10H984.
37. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 42. General Boyer de Latour, the
commander in Cochinchina starting in late 1946, states that he was given “carte-
blanche” control over events in the south. Though he attributed this to his supe-
rior’s confidence, it seems equally likely that the French High Command did not
hope for much out of the south.
38. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 76. Latour remarks in his memoirs
that under normal circumstances the maintenance of the independent bands of
Hoa Hao and Cao Dai soldiers would be “unthinkable.” Latour’s successor, Charles-
Marie Chanson, also found them difficult to manage and openly considered strip-
ping the Cao Dai of their arms in 1950. See: Letter from Général de Brigade
Chanson, Commandant les Forces Franco-Vietnamienne du Sud, to Général de
Corps d’Armée, Commandant en Chef les Forces Armées en Extrême-Orient,
dated 11 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H984. Given this, it is less than surprising
that when he had the opportunity in 1955, Ngo Dinh Diem suppressed the sects,
though one must wonder with hindsight if this was a good decision on his part. See
Moyar, Triumph Forsaken, 52–8.
39. Guillet, Pour L’honneur, 43. Guillet served under Chanson as his intelligence and
operations chief on several occasions.
41. Though it shifted slightly over time, Zone Centre roughly corresponded to the
area first and foremost of Saigon-Cho Lon, but also Hoc Mon and Tay Ninh, Tan
An, My Tho, and Ben Tre. “Articulation et commandement des F.F.V.S.,” dated 25
February 1950 and prepared by the État-Major—3ème Bureau, F.F.V.S., SHAT, car-
ton 10H4369.
42. Guillet, Pour L’honneur, 90.
43. De Brancion, Retour en Indochine du Sud, 108. Chanson would continue this line
of thought when he became commander in Cochinchina and would actively push
for the creation of a greater number of all-Vietnamese units. By 1950 partisan units
in Cochinchina would be twice as strong as similar formations in Tonkin. “Au sujet
des possibilities de formation de l’Armée Vietnamienne,” 13 April 1949, SHAT, car-
ton 15H113.
45. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 98.
46. Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 224.
47. By late 1948 Latour’s mobile reserve had fallen to six battalions. Boyer de Latour, Le
Martyre de l’armée française, 106.
48. For perspective, toward the end of 1948 Latour had about 68,000 men in total, of
which only 38,000 were regular troops. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée
française, 108. In the critical period of 1950, in fact, total forces in Indochina num-
bered less than 150,000. “Forces terrestres d’Extrême-Orient en 1950,” SHAT, car-
ton 15H113. Michele Bodin has calculated that by December of 1950, however, the
usable, regular troop number was only about 95,000. Bodin, La France et ses Soldats,
Indochine, 1945–1954, 19. Compare this figure to more than 400,000 American
troops just in South Vietnam prior to the Tet Offensive of 1968. Spector, After Tet, 9.
49. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 109, 123–24.
50. Ibid., 109.
51. “Instructions pour le combat et pacification dans le Vietnam-Sud,” dated 1952,
SHAT, carton 10H985. There exists within the French Military Archives copies of
Latour’s pacification literature, which covered everything from the proper con-
struction of fortified positions to the correct way to deal with the locals.
52. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 106. The three main points d’appui
(fulcrums) were Long Xuyen, Can Tho, and Soc Trang. The blockade was so effec-
tive and the food situation so severe that by late 1950 the Viet Minh commander for
Tay Ninh, northeast of Saigon, was asking for special troops to help protect their
harvest, and laid plans to launch diversionary attacks to keep the French occu-
pied. Direction generale de la documentation, Ex. No 9, “Notes sur les activitiés
économiques et financières Viet Minh,” dated 24 November 1950, SHAT, carton
10H3746.
54. Guillet, Pour L’honneur, 72. He also became Commissariat de la Republique du Viet
Nam Sud.
55. Letter from Général de Brigade Chanson, Commandant les Forces Franco-
Vietnamienne du Sud, à Général Corps d’Armée, Commandant en Chef les Forces
Armées en Extrême-Orient, dated 11 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4369.
Chanson was especially concerned about the loss of a Foreign Legion parachute
battalion and a unit of Moroccans.
56. “Articulation et commandement des F.F.V.S.”, dated 25 February 1950, SHAT, car-
ton 10H4369. In 1950 Chanson held his best and the majority of his troops in Zone
Centre, including his legionnaires and the mass of his artillery.
57. Général de Brigade Chanson “Directive No. 9,” dated 26 December 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H3746.
58. Letter from Général de Brigade Chanson, Commandant les Forces Franco-
Vietnamienne du Sud, à Général Corps d’Armée, Commandant en Chef les Forces
Armées en Extrême-Orient, dated 11 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4369. A
good example of this was the use of a company of the BEP as well as aviation and
riverine forces in December 1950 to fend off Viet Minh attacks near Tra Vinh.
59. 2éme Bureau report, “Evolution des forces V.M. du Nambo de Septembre 1945 à
Janvier 1952,” dated 10 January 1952, SHAT, carton 10H3746.
60. Général de Brigade Chanson “Directive No. 9,” dated 26 December 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H3746. Chanson did not live to see out his plans for 1951. He was assassi-
nated in Sa Dec in July.
61. See Chapter 5.
62. T. X. Hammes calls this the “Vietnamese modification.” See Hammes, The Sling and
the Stone.
63. Pike, PAVN.
64. For an excellent synopsis of this literature see Lien-Hang Nguyen, “Vietnamese
Historians and the First Indochina War,” in Lawrence and Logevall, The First
Vietnam War, 42.
65. This view of the Vietnamese Communist soldier is manifested in Harry Summers’s
work, originally published in 1982. It was also, however, powerfully advanced by
Douglas Pike in his work on the People’s Army of Vietnam. In that work Pike says
explicitly that Western powers were totally unprepared to deal with the sophisti-
cated Communist strategy.
66. See Duiker, The Communist Road to Power in Vietnamand Sacred War; Goscha,
Vietnam: Un État né de la Guerre, 1945–1954. For the inevitably of Communist vic-
tory see Prados, Vietnam: The History of an Unwinnable War, 1945–1975.
67. See Nguyen, Hanoi’s War. In this effort Nguyen has been joined by Pierre Asselin,
who has also made great strides in taking the Communism of the Vietnamese
Communists seriously. See Asselin, Hanoi’s Road to the Vietnam War, 1954–1965.
68. Zhai, China and the Vietnam Wars, 1950–1975.
69. For some examples of those journalistic accounts see Fall, Street without Joy, and
Bodard, L’enlisement. To be fair, Bodard does discuss the war in Cochinchina quite
a bit but is ultimately more interested in the politics involved and, as he must, is
compelled to focus more heavily on Tonkin. Stanley Karnow’s early “complete” his-
tory of the war mentions briefly the French reoccupation of Cochinchina in 1945
but very quickly moves the narrative north. See Karnow, Vietnam: A History. One
of the few military histories in English that purports to treat the entire war only dis-
cusses the French war in Tonkin, nothing in Cochinchina. See Davidson, Vietnam
at War. French histories obviously do better, though there are surprisingly few.
The standout, which discusses Cochinchina, but still in a rather cursory fashion,
is by General Yves Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine. Gras’s work remains the
most complete account of the war from a military perspective. Also worthy of men-
tion is Philippe Franchini’s two-volume account of the Indochina Wars. Though he
does not dwell on the military issues at work in Cochinchina, he does a good job of
incorporating Cochinchina into the larger narrative of the war. See Franchini, Les
guerres d’Indochine: de la conquête française à 1949 and Les guerres d’Indochine: de
1949 à la chute de Saigon.
70. This category is voluminous. For some examples of special worth to this study:
Bodin, La France et ses Soldats, Indochine, 1945–1954; Brancion, Retour en Indochine
du Sud; Estival, La Marine française dans la Guerre d’Indochine; and Rives and
Deroo, Les Linh Tập. For detailed battle studies, see: Favreau and Dufour, Nasan;
Longeret et al, Les Combats de la RC 4; Bergot, La Bataille de Dong Khê; and
Fouquet-Lapar, Hoa Binh.
71. This fight between French Left and Right is best encapsulated by the so-called
affaire Boudarel, which wrangled French academic circles in the 1990s after a
group of French Indochina veterans confronted Georges Boudarel, a scholar of
the Indochina War, over his involvement as a political commissar in Democratic
Republic of Vietnam prisoner-of-war camps. See Goscha, “Boudarel Affair,”
in Historical Dictionary of the Indochina War, 1945–1954, 69. See also Capitaine,
Captifs du Viet-Minh, and Charuel, L’affaire Boudarel.
72. For example, see again Karnow, Vietnam: A History; Halberstam, The Making of a
Quagmire.
73. A good French example of this trend is Pierre Brocheux’s work from the mid-1990s,
The Mekong Delta. For the purposes of this work, however, the standout scholar has
been Christopher Goscha, who has produced an amazing body of research into the
French and Vietnamese sides of the war, paying particular attention to the south.
See for example, “La guerre par d’autres moyens.” Within the national publishing
industry of Vietnam several useful works have appeared: Lịch sử Nam Bộ kháng
chiến, 1945–1954; Lịch sử biên niên Xứ ủy Nam bộ và Trung ương cục mìn Nam,
1954–1975. There are also the two mammoth studies of Cochinchina (Miền Nam):
Lịch sử Tây and Nam Bộ kháng chiến.
74. See for example Văn Kiện Đảng Toàn Tập, Tập 11—1950; Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 307
(1948–1954).
75. For a recent work in this regard see Nguyen, Hanoi’s War.
76. Some great examples of this are Logevall, Embers of War and Chapman, Ngo Dinh
Diem, The United States and 1950s Southern Vietnam. This book is remarkable in
that it restores a great deal of agency to actors in South Vietnam, particularly the
religio-political groupings, but also manages to understand them in a broader,
international perspective.
77. Galula, Pacification in Algeria, 1956–1958. For an interesting reevaluation of whether
Galula’s practice lived up to his theory see Mathias, Galula in Algeria.
78. Trinquier, Les Maquis d’Indochine: 1952–1954. That Dien Bien Phu was inspired by
this unrealistic view of the efficacy of the Resistance is a point made by Douglas
Porch (Porch, The French Secret Services, 318–39).
79. See Paret, French Revolutionary Warfare from Indochina to Algeria; also Villatoux,
Guerre et Action Psychologiques en Algérie.
80. Horne, The French Army and Politics, 1870–1970; Kelly, Lost Soldiers.
81. The best example of the latter opinion is Krepeinevich, The Army and Vietnam. To
a lesser extent there is Sorely, A Better War. For the former perspective we again
return to Harry Summers, but also add in the new work by Gentile, Wrong Turn.
82. Murray and Mansoor, Hybrid Warfare.
83. The closest anyone has come to operationalizing something like “hybrid warfare”
is probably Maxwell Taylor’s notion of “flexible response.” Still, this had less to do
with the complexity of war within a particular scenario than with giving U.S. pol-
icy a range of options besides nuclear war with which to deal with geopolitical cri-
ses. See Taylor, The Uncertain Trumpet.
84. Clausewitz, Vom Kriege; Clausewitz, On War. The Howard and Paret translation
renders this as “political intercourse” to try and cement this reading, but it is not
entirely sure that this is the case. Even if this were clearly the sense Clausewitz
intended, he has not uniformly been understood that way. Mao, for instance,
understood Clausewitz’s statement as meaning the subordination of the military to
civilian political leadership and the sublimation of warfare under the broader cate-
gory of policy. See Heuser, Reading Clausewitz, 141.
85. Andreas Herberg-Rothe makes the compelling case that Clausewitz only came to
the idea of “politics” as being the fundament of war much later in life. This and the
Prussian’s penchant for mixing prescription and description makes the issue much
more thorny, if not entirely intractable. See Herberg-Rothe, Das Rätsel Clausewitz.
86. There is any number of definitions for “strategy.” Perhaps one of the most useful is
André Beaufre’s in which strategy is “l’art de la dialectique des volontés employant
la force pour résoudre leur conflit [the dialectical art of wills using force to resolve
their conflict],” though even this falls short of dealing overtly with its heuristic ele-
ments. Beaufre, Introduction à la Stratégie, 34.
87. It is not a coincidence that most, if not all, of our modern concepts of strategy were
given shape at the time of the Enlightenment. Many notions, including strategy,
were devised to systematize war, bring it in line with the rationalism of the age. See
Gat, A History of Military Thought, and Van Creveld, The Art of War.
88. Simon, The Sciences of the Artificial.
89. See Owens, Lifting the Fog of War.
90. The comic apogee of this for strategy was probably the work of Prussian writer
Adam Heinrich Dietrich von Buelow, whose work on strategy Martin Van Creveld
unfavorably compared to a “textbook in Euclidean geometry. Van Creveld, The Art
of War, 101.
91. Gigerenzer and Selten, “Rethinking Rationality,” in Gigerenzer and Selten, Bounded
Rationality, 4. Coincidently, the conflation of rationality and optimization in the
sciences occurred most egregiously in the early 1950s.
92. This assessment obviously then runs somewhat counter to what has come to be
known as the Powell-Weinberger Doctrine.
93. A great early example of this was Edward Lorenz’s work into weather prediction. In
the 1960s Lorenz was able to show that, even given truly massive amounts of data,
long-range weather prediction was basically impossible. See Gleick, Chaos.
94. Rittel and Webber, “Dilemmas in a General Theory of Planning.”
95. DeGrace and Stahl, Wicked Problems, Righteous Solutions, 82.
96. Ibid., 85.
97. Simon has noted that “search processes . . . can be viewed more generally as pro-
cesses for gathering information about problem structure that will ultimately be
valuable in discovering a problem solution.” Simon, The Sciences of the Artificial, 127.
98. Strategy certainly evolves and is not a matter of set Platonic forms, so to speak. See
Heuser, The Evolution of Strategy.
99. Simon, The Sciences of the Artificial, 138.
Chapter 1
1. In the chapter title above, “Weapons will speak.” Philippe François Leclerc de
Hauteclocque quoted in Franchini, Les Guerres d’Indochine: de la Conquête
française à 1949, 343. Leclerc reportedly made this remark—“les armes parleront,
s’il le faut”—on Ceylon after learning that President Truman had endorsed France’s
return to the whole of Indochina and that de Gaulle had made him command-
er-in-chief of the armed forces for the expedition. Ironic then is Leclerc’s later
remark in July of 1946 that “it could not be a question of reconquering the north by
arms, we do not have means, and we will never have the means.” Leclerc quoted in
Franchini, Les Guerres d’Indochine: de la Conquête française à 1949, 481.
2. De Folin, Indochine, 1940–1955, 185.
3. These attacks were not entirely unexpected. French intelligence knew that Giap was
preparing for some kind of attack. See “Renseignements du 2e bureau de source
très sûre,” dated 28 November to 1 December, 1946, reprinted in Bodinier, Le Retour
de la France en Indochine, 1945–1946, 333. Also, the Party’s Central Committee
had declared an end to all contact with the French, economic or otherwise on 12
December 1946, Văn Kiện Đảng Toàn Tập, 1945–1947, 8:152. The Văn Kiện Đảng
are compilations of party directives purportedly culled from government archives
and placed in chronological order. Of course, it is impossible to verify if these doc-
uments have been reprinted faithfully and one must assume that they have been
redacted to fit with the established Communist narrative of the war.
4. Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 153–54.
5. “Note du Général Leclerc au sujet de la situation actuelle en Indochine,” dated 5
December 1946, reprinted in Bodinier, Le Retour de la France en Indochine, 339.
6. Alphonse Juin quoted in de Folin, Indochine, 1940–1955, 183.
7. De Grandmaison, L’expansion française au Tonkin, 5. Grandmaison’s exact quote is:
“Nous serons forceés de reconnaître que la volonté des hommes a été le plus sou-
vent violentée par les événements et que ce ne sont pas des considérations commer-
ciales qui nous ont conduits en Extrême-Orient [We are forced to recognize that
man’s will is most often abused by events and that it is not commercial consider-
ations that have led us to the Far East].”
8. François Guillemot, “Au cœur de la fracture vietnamienne: l’élimination de l’op-
position nationaliste et anticoloniste dans le Nord du Vietnam (1945–1946),” in
Goscha and De Tréglodé, Naissance d’un État-Parti, 181–204.
9. See “modus vivendi, Franco-Vietnamese,” in Goscha, Historical Dictionary of the
Indochina War (1945–1954), 296.
11. Ibid., 140. Valluy took over command from Leclerc in July of 1946.
12. The text of Valluy’s cable is in General Morlière’s report reprinted in Chaffard, Les
Deux Guerres du Vietnam, 44.
13. Debès attacked with two battalions of infantry (the 1st and the 2nd of the 23rd RIC)
and two squadrons of light tanks, with the artillery of the RACM (Régiment d’artil-
lerie coloniale du Maroc) in support. Estimates of Vietnamese dead range from 300
to 6,000. See Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 148, and Bodinier, Le Retour
de la France en Indochine, 58.
14. Rioux, The Fourth Republic, 1944–1958, 108. Under the Constitution of the Fourth
Republic adopted in October of 1946 an all-powerful assembly exercised a stultify-
ing influence on constantly vulnerable and thus ever-changing governments.
15. Rioux, The Fourth Republic, 1944–1958, 110.
16. Hammer, The Struggle for Indochina, 1940–1955, 190. De Gaulle was convinced that
for France to have any claim to great power status she must retain her overseas
empire. Furthermore, de Gaulle had resolved to retake France’s possessions in the
East at least as early as July of 1943. See Bodin, La France et ses Soldats, Indochine,
1945–1954, 13.
17. See Ruscio, “L’opinion française et la Guerre d’Indochine (1945–1954).”
18. Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 163–65. For his perceived timidity during
this time period, Morlière was relieved and replaced by Dèbes.
19. Hammer, The Struggle for Indochina, 1940–1955, 197.
20. Ibid., 200.
21. Ibid., 202.
22. Spector, Advice and Support, 85; Hammer, The Struggle for Indochina, 1940–1955, 207.
23. “Circulaire: Pacification de la Cochinchine,” prepared by Tran Van Ty, vice pres-
ident of the Provisional Government of Cochinchina, dated 23 February 1947,
24. “Procès verbal de la reunion du Comité de pacification,” dated 23 June 1947, SHAT,
carton 10H165. General Nyo, commander in Cochinchina, claimed he had killed
2,000. President of the Provisional Government Le Van Hoach was doubtful and
maintained that the Viet Minh retained the initiative.
25. “Note,” dated 9 February 1947, in reference to d’Argenlieu’s “Directives person-
nelles et secrètes du 29 January 1947,” SHAT, carton 10H165. This message informs
General Nyo that the commander of the “zone de pacification” is to have opera-
tional control over all battalions in Cochinchina save one kept in reserve in Saigon.
26. Thierry d’Argenlieu, “Memorandum: Pacification de la Cochinchine,” dated 7
February 1947, SHAT, carton 10H165.
27. Valluy quoted in Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 183. Gras quotes Valluy as
saying that the French must frapper la tête (hit the head) of the rebellion in the next
campaign. There is further irony here. A similar logic had induced then Governor-
General of Algeria Thomas Bugeaud to strike out after Abdelkader in 1844 beyond
the borders of his commission because “the storm clouds will form [there] and rain
upon us. They must be destroyed at their source.” Bugeaud quoted in Brower, A
Desert Named Peace, 38.
29. Spector, Advice and Support, 85–86.
30. “La campagne d’automne au Tonkin,” prepared by TFIN, dated 29 January 1948,
reprinted in Bodinier, Indochine 1947, 328–44.
31. Davidson, Vietnam at War, 48.
32. Groupement B comprised three battalions of infantry, a portion of an armored reg-
iment (RICM), approximately one artillery group, and a battalion of engineers.
33. Groupement C comprised three infantry battalions and two artillery batteries
transported by three dinassauts (riverine squadrons).
34. See “Bilan des opérations d’automne 1947 du 7 Octobre au 22 Decembre 1947,”
reprinted in Bodinier, Indochine 1947, 341–42.
35. Davidson, Vietnam at War, 50. At casualty figures this high, Philip Davidson esti-
mates the French would have had to inflict casualties on the order of 25,000 to
30,000 on the Viet Minh. As he has argued, it does not seem that fighting during
Lea and Ceinture was intense enough to justify these kinds of estimates.
37. See “Bao Dai Solution” in Goscha, Historical Dictionary of the Indochina War
(1945–1954), 53–54.
38. Hammer, The Struggle for Indochina, 1940–1955, 284. The Dai Viet was a more right-
wing nationalist party that appeared in Tonkin during the Second World War and
took on an increasingly anti-Communist viewpoint. See “Dai Viet” in Jacques
Dalloz, Dictionnaire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 1945–1954, 69.
41. See “Blaizot, Roger” in Dalloz, Dictionnaire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 1945–1954, 36.
42. Dommen, The Indochinese Experience of the French and the Americans, 225.
43. “Note de service No. 118/3-S FTEO,” dated 13 February 1949, SHAT, carton 10H906.
In 1949, to recognize the status of a theoretically and legally united Vietnam, the
titles for troops operating in the various theatres were adjusted. TFIN became
FTNV. In Cochinchina the TFIS became the FTSV.

47. Ibid., 242.
49. “Mesures d’urgence à prendre pour parer a toute tentative de dissidence en
Cochinchine,” signed by Blaizot, dated 4 December 1948, SHAT, carton 10H906.
50. Dalloz, La Guerre d’Indochine, 141.
51. “Enseignements de la guerre d’Indochine,” prepared by the État-Major de l’armée
de Terre, dated 1953, SHAT, carton 10H984.
52. Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 245. Blaizot’s plan was actually very much
cribbed from Valluy, who had conceived of a very similar series of ventures prior to
his departure from Indochina. See “Action politique et militaire au Tonkin au cours
du 1er trimestre 1948,” signed by Valluy, SHAT, carton 10H168.
53. “Fiche pour le Général Blaizot,” SHAT, carton 10H168. In August of 1948 Charles-
Marie Chanson, briefly serving as commander in Tonkin, wrote to Blaizot inform-
ing him of his concern for the French position along RC 4. Chanson noted that the
French air force could only provide 50 percent of the supply needs for the frontier
posts and expressed his concern that the air staff had not adequately studied the
problem.
54. Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 245. One should note, however, that
although Alessandri favored the pacification of the delta, he also insisted upon
the retention of the border forts along RC 4 while Blaizot preferred to liquidate
RC 4 and gain for himself more maneuver units. Bergot, La Bataille de Dong Khê,
10.
55. Pignon countermanded Blaizot’s desire to fall back from RC 4, citing the impor-
tance of maintaining the loyalty of the Tho and Nung ethnic minorities of that
region. Longeret et al., Les Combats de la RC 4, 208.
57. Zhai, China and the Vietnam Wars, 1950–1975, 13. The People’s Republic of China
was officially formed on 1 October 1949. Ho Chi Minh dispatched representatives
to China soon thereafter.
58. Franchini, Les Guerres d’Indochine, 1:631–32.
59. Thomazi, La Conquête de l’Indochine, 277–79. In 1884–85 the French in Tonkin
engaged in a very similar discussion to one that took place in 1949. Then-Minister
of War General Campenon had argued that to attempt to conquer and hold all
of Tonkin, especially the far-removed points of the High Regions, would require
“enormous sums,” would waste French lives, and would “seriously compromise the
health” of the troops. To operate such a system, Campenon insisted, would be a
“monstrous mistake.”
60. Bergot, La Bataille de Dong Khê, 11.
61. Longeret et al., Les Combats de la RC 4, 209.
63. “Note d’orientation No. 7 relative à propagande et contre-propagande destinées
aux troupes autochtones,” dated 25 May 1950, SHAT, carton 10H995. In mid-1950
French intelligence still thought it possible to portray Viet Minh units as poorly led
and incapable of concerted action.
64. Spector, Advice and Support, 125. In addition to a substantial quantity of artillery,
French intelligence estimated that in a single month’s time the Chinese delivered in
excess of 50,000 rifles to Giap’s battalions.
65. See Mao Tse-Tung, “On Protracted War,” in Selected Military Writings of Mao Tse-
Tung, 255.
66. Bergot, La Bataille de Dong Khê, 20. The idea to land directly on Dong Khe and not
at a drop zone some place distant from which the paras could organize before their
assault was actually the idea of doctor attached to the 3rd GCCP.
67. Bergot, La Bataille de Dong Khê, 37.
69. This operation would have taken too long (perhaps weeks). Gras, L’armée de l’air en
Indochine (1945–1954), 260.
71. Ibid., 357.
72. Franchini, Les Guerres d’Indochine: de 1949 à la chute de Saigon, 92.
74. “Enseignements de la guerre d’Indochine,” SHAT, carton 10H984. See section enti-
tled “l’etat de fait en decembre 1950.” In total France had at this juncture thirty-six
infantry battalions, five parachute battalions, thirteen artillery batteries, and nine
armored squadrons available for mobile action.
75. Millett, The War for Korea, 1950–1951, 301.
76. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 181. Groupement mobiles or mobile
groups were semi-established tactical formations somewhat akin to a U.S. regimen-
tal combat team. Of course, the French since the beginning of the war were used
to forming groupements for particular operations. The establishment of GMs as
semi-permanent tactical units seems to date from Blaizot’s time as commander in
chief. See reference in “Mesures d’urgence à prendre pour parer à toute tentative
de dissidence en Cochinchine” to EMO 524 dated 16 November 1948, SHAT, carton
10H906.
77. Franchini, Les Guerres d’Indochine: de 1949 à la chute de Saigon, 94–95.
79. Clausewitz, On War, 607–8. See Book VIII, chapter 6 for Clausewitz’s discussion of
this arrangement.
80. Văn Kiện Đảng Toàn Tập, 1950, 11:567. See Central Committee communication for
21 Dec 1950.
tled “l’etat de fait en decembre 1950.”
tled, “l’œuvre de Marechal de Lattre.”
83. Fall, Street without Joy, 36–37.
84. Gras, L’armée de l’air en Indochine (1945–1954), 361–63.
85. Estival, La Marine française dans la Guerre d’Indochine, 172. The largest ship pres-
ent was the cruiser Duguay-Trouin.
86. Fall, Street without Joy, 42–43.
87. Ibid.
tled “bataille de Nghia Lo en Octobre 1951.”
89. It is legitimate to argue that the Cold War was not as important for France as it was
in the Anglo-Saxon world (see Soutout, “France and the Cold War, 1944–63,”35),
but this did not hold true for the military.
90. Quoted in Spector, Advice and Support, 142.
92. Quoted in Hugues Tertrais, “Le poids financier de la guerre d’Indochine,” in Vaisse,
L’armee Francaise dans la Guerre D’indochine 1946–1954, 41.
94. Tertrais, La Piastre et Le fusil, 270.
96. The piastre traffic involved France maintaining an artificially high exchange
rate between piastres and francs, allowing France to recoup its expenditures in
Indochina after a delay of a few months once the money found its way back to
France for exchange. Tertrais, “Le poids financier de la guerre d’Indochine,” in
Vaisse, L’armee Francaise dans la Guerre D’indochine 1946–1954, 36–38.
tled “l’œuvre de Marechal de Lattre.”
98. Estival, La Marine française dans la Guerre d’Indochine, 181.
100. In a personal conversation with de Lattre, Claude Clément reports that the general
was greatly concerned that various powers in Paris would not abide him using so
much money to stay only in the delta: “Ils trouvent que je coûte trop cher pour me
confiner dans le Delta.” Quoted in Fouquet-Lapar, Hoa Binh, 63.
tled “les opérations de CHO BEN et HOA BINH.”
102. Fall, Street without Joy, 45.
103. Later Communist historiography would take the three-phase Maoist paradigm for
revolutionary war and jigger it to a five-phase model. With his loss in 1951 Giap
moved into the “strategically defensive phase” four of the conflict. See Pike, PAVN,
40.
104. By way of example, Raoul Salan, the commander to follow de Lattre, admitted
openly that he was simply “too attached” to his “cher Laos.” Salan, Mémoires, 367.
105. Quoted in Spector, Advice and Support, 140.
106. Quoted in Vanuxem, Le Général Vainqueur, 32.
107. With de Lattre’s departure the system of combined military/political authority was
discontinued. Salan would be the commander-in-chief, while the high commis-
sioner’s hat would go to Jean Letourneau.
108. Philippe Fouquet-Lapar, a veteran of the Hoa Binh campaign, offers a thorough
review of the various actions. See Fouquet-Lapar, Hoa Binh.
109. Salan, Mémoires, 290. Salan had informed the press somewhat emphatically, “Nous
sommes à Hoa Binh et je n’ai pas l’intention de m’en laisser mettre à la porte!”
tled “opérations d’assainissement.”
tled “situation dans le NORD au DEBUT de l’ÉTÉ, 1952.” The divisions involved
against Hoa Binh would remain hors de combat for about three months.
112. See “Associated States of Indochina,” in Goscha, Historical Dictionary of the
Indochina War (1945–1954), 44. This system, inaugurated between March and
November of 1949, allowed for the unification of Vietnam as well as a limited

national sovereignty for Laos and Cambodia. Military, diplomatic, and monetary
matters remained Paris’s prerogative. John Dreifort’s term for French Far East for-
eign policy before the war, “myopic grandeur,” seems equally appropriate to this
period. Dreifort, Myopic Grandeur, 1991.
113. Franchini, Les Guerres d’Indochine: de 1949 à la chute de Saigon, 168. Douglas Porch
argues that protection of the opium crop in Laos was a key factor in the French
decision to defend Laos. This was doubtless a contributory factor. See Porch, The
French Secret Services, 353.
114. Fall, Street without Joy, 45.
115. America would learn this lesson later on. As Bernard Brodie states it: “If there is
one military lesson that comes out of Vietnam, it is that one does not fight with a
conscript army a war that is imperialist in form even if not in purpose.” Brodie, War
and Politics, 200.
116. Salan, Mémoires, 329.
119. Dalloz, Dictionnaire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 1945–1954, 222–23.
120. Trinquier, Les Maquis d’Indochine, 41.
121. Porch, The French Secret Services, 331. Porch makes the point that French reliance—
and particularly Salan’s—on the GCMA was wholly out of proportion to their net
military effect. Other officers, like Jean Gilles, thought the maquis a waste of valu-
able men and material that would have been better used elsewhere.
122. Salan, Mémoires, 385. Taking a cue from countless other French colonial officers,
Salan informed the government in France of his plan to engage in this traffic, but of
course enacted his plan before the government could render its decision.
123. See Gandy, Bataillon Bigeard à Tu Lê, 26. Gandy, also a veteran of Indochina and
Algeria, describes Bigeard as being as comfortable in the field as a “poacher in his
woods.”
tled “le campagne du NORD OUEST.”
128. Ély, Les Enseignements de la Guerre d’Indochine (1945–1954), 113–14. General Ély
was the last commander in Indochina and in 1954 authored an extensive report on
the French conduct of the war.
129. Salan, Mémoires, 348–49.
130. Favreau and Dufour, Nasan, 114–15.
131. Gras, L’armée de l’air en Indochine (1945–1954), 422. Despite large increases in the
number of aircraft at their disposal, the demands placed upon the air arm greatly
exceeded their theoretical maximums for the duration of the battle of Na San.
132. Favreau and Dufour, Nasan, 157.
133. Salan, Mémoires, 371–73.
tled “Developpement des armées nationales jusqu’en juin 1952” as well as “Les
problèmes pour 1953.” Only in the paratroop battalions and the Tabors was this not
a problem. Bodin, La France et ses Soldats, Indochine, 1945–1954, 137.
135. De Folin, Indochine, 1940–1955, 234.

136. Roy, The Battle of Dienbienphu, 3.
137. Franchini, Les Guerres d’Indochine: de 1949 à la chute de Saigon, 196–98.
138. Spector, Advice and Support, 175. This was a common American complaint. At the
National Security Council (NSC) meeting on 6 April 1954 Eisenhower himself
wondered aloud why, with numerical superiority everywhere, the French did not
attack anywhere else while the siege at Dien Bien Phu carried on. NSC, 192nd meet-
ing, 6 April 1954, Eisenhower Library.
139. O’Ballance, The Indo-China War, 1945–1954, 200.
140. Franchini, Les Guerres d’Indochine: de 1949 à la chute de Saigon, 204.
141. Navarre, Le Temps des Vérités, 318.
142. Windrow, The Last Valley, 251.
143. Navarre, Le Temps des Vérités, 335.
144. Ruscio, “L’opinion française et la Guerre d’Indochine (1945–1954),” 43.
145. The best account of the battle is still Fall’s Hell in a Very Small Place. The newest bat-
tle-narratives are Windrow, The Last Valley, and Cadeau, Dien Bien Phu, Mars–Mai
1954.
146. “Directives de propagande et documentation,” Annex VI, prepared by the État-
Major de la guerre psychologique, Dated 25 May 1954, SHAT, carton 10H2559.
147. Devillers and Lacouture, End of a War, 171.
148. Windrow, The Last Valley, 629.
Chapter 2
1. Nguyen Hoang quoted in Sources of Vietnamese Tradition, 155.
2. Taylor, A History of the Vietnamese, 252.
3. Ibid., 442–444.
4. Brocheux and Hémery, Indochina, 24–26. The western provinces of Cochinchina—
Vinh Long, Chau Doc, and Ha Tien—were annexed later in 1866–67.
5. Brocheux and Hémery, Indochina, 82. Before its fall to France, Cochinchina had
been administered by fifty mandarins in total. By 1900 these had been replaced
by 290 French civil servants in addition to more than 1,000 other French
administrators.
6. Ho Tai, Millenarianism and Peasant Politics in Vietnam, 9.
7. Redclift, Frontiers, 206.
8. Ibid., 9.
9. Liebermann, Strange Parallels, 344.
10. Ho Tai, Millenarianism and Peasant Politics in Vietnam, 11–20.
11. Chapman, Cauldron of Resistance, 4.
12. This is not to say that these groups no longer exist, only that after 1955 they no lon-
ger possessed armed militias outside of Saigon-led government control.
13. Fall, “The Political-Religious Sects of Viet-Nam,” 253.
15. Ibid., 27.
16. Ibid., 117.
17. Ibid., 121.
18. Ibid., 146–56.
19. Bodard, L’enlisement, 150.
20. Ibid., 120–21.

21. Ibid., 146–47.
22. Ibid., 162.
23. Ibid., 130–36.
24. “Notes sur le Caodaisme,” prepared by Chef de Bataillon A. M. Savani, dated
November 1954, SHAT, carton 10H2180. See section entitled “Definition du
Caodaisme.”
25. Oliver, Caodai Spiritism, 7.
26. Ibid., 33–34.
27. Ibid., 40.
28. See “Notes sur le Caodaisme,” prepared by Chef de Bataillon A. M. Savani, dated
November 1954, SHAT, carton 10H2180; Oliver, Caodai Spiritism, 9–10.
29. Oliver, Caodai Spiritism, 11.
30. Savani, Visage et Images du Sud-Vietnam, 91.
31. Oliver, Caodai Spiritism, 18–19, 55.
32. See “Notes sur le Caodaisme,” prepared by Chef de Bataillon A. M. Savani, dated
November 1954, SHAT, carton 10H2180. See section entitled “Deuxième période: le
pontificat de Le Van Trung, 1926–1934.”
33. The founder of Cao Daism, Ngô Minh Chiêu, had refused this title.
34. Despite his title—Ho Phap—meaning something akin to “defender of spiritual
laws,” most contemporary observers referred to Pham Cong Tac as the Cao Dai
“pope,” which was perhaps true for all intents and purposes, though Cao Dai law
prevented one man from officially holding both positions.
35. This hope was finally smashed in 1951 when Cuong De died of liver cancer in Tokyo.
See Mỹ-Vân, A Vietnamese Royal Exile in Japan, 215.
36. Savani, Visage et Images du Sud-Vietnam, 92–98; “Notes sur le Caodaisme,” pre-
pared by Chef de Bataillon A. M. Savani, dated November 1954, SHAT, carton
10H2180. See section entitled “Troisième période: le pontificat de Pham Cong Tac
(1935–1946).”
37. Chi doi were units of variable size. They were larger than companies, generally.
It is best to think of them as embryonic regiments or proto-battalions. Though
not close in size to a western regiment, their recruitment and independent scope
of activity is more regimental in nature, i.e., based on regional affiliations. “Chi
doi” was also a term more common in the south than in the north. It is import-
ant to note, however, that during the war translations of Viet Minh formations
into Western equivalents were usually problematic. Although Trung Đoàn and tiểu
đoàn are generally rendered respectively as “regiment” and “battalion,” their sizes
could be highly variable. By 1950 the French military intelligence community rec-
ommended that these be rendered as “permanent tactical grouping of medium
size” and “permanent tactical grouping of small size.” I have seen no evidence that
these cumbersome terms caught on. “Note sur les appellations V. M.,” prepared
by Chef d’Escadron Boussaire, Chef du 2ème Bureaud, dated 14 November 1950,
SHAT carton 10H636.
38. Darcourt, Bay Vien, 86–88; Savani, Visage et Images du Sud-Vietnam, 128.
39. Darcourt, Bay Vien, 23, 162–81, 261.
40. McCoy, The Politics of Heroin in Southeast Asia, 114.
41. Savani, Visage et Images du Sud-Vietnam, 128–30.
42. Ibid., 123.

43. See Daughton, An Empire Divided, 59–85.
44. Elliott, The Vietnamese War, 49. As the war went forward Catholic priests were
often targets of kidnapping. For an example see “Enlèvement du Père Do de
SADEC,” prepared by Lieutenant-Colonel Soreau, Commandant le Secteur de
LONGXUYEN, dated 1 October 1949, SHAT, carton 10H2217.
45. Savani, Visage et Images du Sud-Vietnam, 123–24.
46. Rinn-Sup Shinn, “The Society and Its Environment,” in Vietnam: A Country Study,
84.
47. Brocheux, The Mekong Delta, 3.
48. Zones West and Center were created on 15 February 1947, with East coming into
existence on 25 March. Bodinier, Indochine 1947, 26.
50. Brancion, Retour en Indochine du Sud, 82; Brancion, Commando Bergerol, 43;
Elliott, The Vietnamese War, 72.
52. Brocheux, The Mekong Delta, 66. At the time in question Chinese individuals man-
aged almost all of the trade in rice. By 1914 all mills in Cho Lon were Chinese
owned.
53. Croizat, The Development of the Plain of Reeds, 5–14.
54. Bodard, L’enlisement, 85–86.
55. Brocheux, The Mekong Delta, 2–7.
56. “Situation militaire en Indochine: période du 13 au 19 Dec 1947,” prepared by
Capitaine de Frégate Nicolas-Barrelon, Chef-adjoint de l’État-Major particulier,
dated 23 December 1947, SHAT, carton 10H86. This report indicates that even as
early as December of 1947 the principal area of Viet Minh activity was along the
route running from Ca Mau to Bac Lieu and up toward Can Tho.
57. Brocheux and Hémery, Indochina, 126–27.
58. See Tu Binh, The Red Earth.
59. Nguyên, Nguyển Bình, Huyền Thoại và Sự Thật, 414.
60. The distinction between control and coping is something I have learned from dis-
cussions with Alan Beyerchen. To my knowledge he has not published a full analysis
of his concepts. A partial glimpse may be found in “Clausewitz and the Non-Linear
Nature of Warfare: Systems of Organized Complexity,” in Strachan and Herberg-
Rothe, Clausewitz in the Twenty-First Century, 45–56. Some of these concepts
in less explicit fashion can be found in Beyerchen’s seminal article, “Clausewitz,
Nonlinearity, and the Unpredictability of War.” Others have picked up on the con-
cept as well. See Grimsley, And Keep Moving On, 229–30.
Chapter 3
1. The phrase trace de sang in the chapter title means blood trail.
2. “Compte-rendu de l’opération “C”: Groupement GERLOTTO no. 3 du 3 au 8
Mai 1947,” dated 12 May 1947, prepared by chef d’escadron Gerlotto, SHAT, car-
ton 10H4950. The Viet Minh unit with which Gerlotto engaged was quite possi-
bly Binh Xuyen in composition. During the operation the French captured a Binh
Xuyen agent on his way to fetch reinforcements for the two companies the French
chased in early May. It must be remembered that at this point the Binh Xuyen
remained members of the Viet Minh, with Bay Vien technically second in com-
mand to Nguyen Binh.
3. This is not to say that the war in Tonkin was simple. The point is that in Cochinchina
commanders were forced to adapt themselves to the complexity of the situation,
whereas in Tonkin the French hoped that battle could potentially resolve the oth-
erwise intractable nature of their problem.
4. Frank, Downfall, 65.
5. The Japanese declared a general amnesty for prisoners on 6 July 1945. See Darcourt,
Bay Vien, 173.
6. Marr, Vietnam 1945, 217. Also see Darcourt, Bay Vien, 191. Finally see Zinoman, The
Colonial Bastille. The forced integration of political prisoners from varying regions
of Indochina in the colonial prison system formed a nucleus for later Communist/
nationalist cooperation once the Japanese threw open the gates.
7. When the new provisional executive committee took power in Saigon on 25 August
1945 seven of its nine members were Communists. Also, according to Darcourt’s
account, the second time Trinh Minh The attempted to intimidate Giau he found
Bay Vien’s Colt .45 firmly pressed to his temple. Darcourt, Bay Vien, 191–95.
8. Memorandum from Captain Doignon, Assistant to Chief of French Military
Mission, to Major General Kinmins, Assistant Chief of Staff to Combined Chiefs,
entitled “Organisation of the 5th Colonial Regiment,” dated 26 June 1945, SHAT,
carton 10H84.
9. Memorandum from Major General Kinmins, Assistant Chief of Staff, to Roger
Blaizot, dated 30 April 1945, SHAT, carton 10H84.
10. Bernier, Le Commando des tigres, 26–28. As an interesting aside, the men of the
5th RIC were volunteers, with an inordinate number of those being Corsican. The
model for the CLI originally was Orde Wingate’s British commandos in Burma (see
p. 25).
11. Though this unit would come to be known as the Commando Ponchardier, its ini-
tial designation as the Special Air Service bataillon was a purposeful amalgamation
of English along with the French spelling of “battalion” in order to show its mixed
heritage. Many of Ponchardier’s commandos had been part of Operation Jedburgh
during the Second World War.
12. By early April 1945 Lieutenant-Colonel de Crevecoeur, the chief of Service Action
in Indochina, had determined that any French military action trying to retake
northern Indochina from China was unrealistic. “L’Indochine vis-à-vis du S.E.A.C.
et du theatre Chine: position et possibilités des divers allies; position et perspec-
tive françaises; précisions à recevoir du S.E.A.C.,” dated 15 April 1945, SHAT, carton
10H84.
13. “Rapport du Lt Colonel brevete P. Huard au general de chef de la mission mili-
taire aupres du SEAC sur l’activité du P.C. avance du general Blaizot du 10 au 17
Mars 1945,” dated 18 March 1945, SHAT, carton 10H84. Also see “Ordre General No.
1,” prepared by General Sabattier, Commandant Supérieur des Troupes de l’Indo-
chine, dated 1 April 1945, SHAT, carton 10H84.
14. Darcourt, Bay Vien, 207–211.
15. Dunn, The First Vietnam War, 152.
16. “La pacification du Sud Viet-Nam,” prepared by Capitaine Menard, État-Major—3e
Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984.
17. Dunn, The First Vietnam War, 184–99.

18. See “Hérault, Massacre” in Goscha, Historical Dictionary of the Indochina War
(1945–1954), 201–2; Dunn, The First Vietnam War, 203; Bodard, L’enlisement, 122.
19. Elliott, The Vietnamese War, 53–54.
20. The truce, negotiated by Cédile, ran from 2 October to 10 October when a British
engineer reconnaissance unit was attacked returning from Tan Son Nhut. Though
probably the work of the Cao Dai operating in the area, it effectively scuttled the
truce. Dunn, The First Vietnam War, 257; Note from Field Marshal Count Terauchi,
Commander of Japanese Forces in Southern Regions, to Admiral Lord Louis
Mountbatten, Supreme Commander of Allied Forces in South-East Asia, dated 10
September 1945, SHAT, carton 10H84. In this note, Field Marshall Terauchi claims
to have no knowledge of a British report about an “Annamite army” moving north
from Saigon, but at this juncture Terauchi’s knowledge of the goings-on of even his
own men was leaving much to be desired.
21. Dunn, The First Vietnam War, 255.
22. The first group was reportedly 500 strong with 150 Japanese included. The second,
near the airport, was less formidable and had perhaps 30 Japanese among them.
Darcourt, Bay Vien, 227–28.
23. Ibid., 243–44.
24. Elliott, The Vietnamese War, 55; “La pacification du Sud Viet-Nam,” prepared by
Capitaine Menard, État-Major—3e Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton
10H984.
25. “Évolution des forces V.M. du Nambo de Septembre 1945 à Janvier 1952,” prepared
by the État-Major, 2e Bureau of the Commandement des forces terrestres du Sud
Vietnam, dated 10 January 1952, SHAT, carton 10H3746.
27. “Fiche sur l’occupation militaire de l’Indochine,” prepared by Chef de Bataillon
Baudoux, Chef du 3e Bureau, dated 12 September 1945, SHAT, carton 10H84.
28. Bodinier, Le Retour de la France en Indochine, 1945–1946, 25–32.
29. Massu, Sept ans avec Leclerc, 234–37.
30. Dunn, The First Vietnam War, 260–61.
31. Massu, Sept ans avec Leclerc, 242.
32. Bernier, Le Commando des tigres, 62–68; Massu, Sept ans avec Leclerc, 244–45.
Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984; Massu, Sept ans avec Leclerc,
249.
34. Bernier, Le Commando des tigres, 132–33,168; “La pacification du Sud Viet-Nam,”
prepared by Capitaine Menard, État-Major—3e Bureau, dated 15 March 1954,
SHAT, carton 10H984; Nguyên, Nguyển Bình, Huyền Thoại và Sự Thật, 95.
35. “Rapport sur la base opérationnelle du Sud,” translation of report from Nguyen
Binh to “High Command,” SHAT, carton 10H636 (document probably dates from
1951 during Binh’s trip back to Tonkin); Nguyên, Nguyển Bình, Huyền Thoại và Sự
Thật, 88.
36. As late as 1950 the Nam Bo Viet Minh lacked heavy artillery of any kind. Heavy mor-
tars and heavy machine guns were eventually available, but in 1945–46 they generally
lacked those as well. “Note sur l’artillerie Viet Minh,” prepared by Chef d’Escadron
Boussaire, Chef du 2ème Bureau, dated 9 November 1950, SHAT 10H636.
37. At one point in the opening phase of the war the Binh Xuyen received no commu-
nication from the Nam Bo executive committee for two entire months. Darcourt,
Bay Vien, 253.
by the État-Major, 2ème Bureau of the Commandement des forces terrestres du
Sud Vietnam, 10 Jan 1952, SHAT, carton 10H3746; “La pacification du Sud Viet-
Nam,” prepared by Captaine Menard, État-Major—3e Bureau, dated 15 Mar 1954,
39. Goscha, “A ‘Popular’ Side of the Vietnamese Army: General Nguyễn Bình and War
in the South,” in Goscha and De Tréglodé, Naissance d’un État-Parti, 325–32; “Extrait
des sommiers judiciaires,” prepared by Florian Birouste, Chef des Laboratoires &
Services d’Identité, for the Chef de la Sûreté Federale en Cochinchine, dated 21
December 1951, SHAT, carton 10H636.
40. Nguyên, Nguyển Bình, Huyền Thoại và Sự Thật, 91–104; Christopher Goscha, “A
‘Popular’ Side of the Vietnamese Army,” in Goscha and De Tréglodé, Naissance d’un
État-Parti, 336.
41. Goscha, “La Guerre par d’autres moyens,” 37.
by the État-Major, 2ème Bureau of the Commandement des forces terrestres du
Sud Vietnam, 10 January 1952, SHAT, carton 10H3746; “La pacification du Sud Viet-
Nam,” prepared by Capitaine Menard, État-Major—3e Bureau, dated 15 March 1954,
43. Goscha, “La Guerre par d’autres moyens,” 37–38.
44. “Documents Vietnamiens:” Nguyen Binh to Vo Nguyen Giap, Hanoi, dated 28
November 1946, translation prepared by 2ème Bureau, SHAT, carton 10H602.
45. Tønnesson, Vietnam, 1946, 76; Goscha, “A ‘Popular’ Side of the Vietnamese Army,”
in Goscha and De Tréglodé, Naissance d’un État-Parti, 331.
47. “L’action Viet-Minh dans les villes,” French translation of VM document taken
from the body of Nguyen Binh in 1951, SHAT, carton 10H636; Goscha, “A ‘Popular’
Side of the Vietnamese Army,” in Goscha and De Tréglodé, Naissance d’un État-
Parti, 338.
48. “Instructions personnelles pour le colonel commandant le secteur Saigon-Cho
Lon,” prepared by General Nyo, dated 23 October 1946, SHAT, carton 10H906.
49. See “lettre du général Leclerc à l’amiral d’Argenlieu,” dated 14 May 1946, reprinted
in Bodinier, Le Retour de la France en Indochine, 259–60.
50. Duiker, Sacred War, 57–58.
51. Goscha, “A ‘Popular’ Side of the Vietnamese Army,” in Goscha and De Tréglodé,
Naissance d’un État-Parti, 338.
52. Bodinier, Le Retour de la France en Indochine, 67.
53. Initially the TFIS was also responsible for the Troupes du Cambodge and Brigade
Extrême-Orient, a loose formation mostly made up of Indochinese troops. These
areas in 1947 would become independent commands answerable directly to the
overall command, the Troupes françaises d’Extrême-Orient (TFEO). At the begin-
ning of 1946 the northern sector was attached to the Annam command, but this
changed by the end of the year.
54. The 3rd Battalion of the 4th RAC remained in Saigon-Cho Lon at the behest of
the division commander. Bodinier, Le Retour de la France en Indochine, 54–59; “La
pacification du Sud Viet-Nam,” prepared by Capitaine Menard, État-Major—3e
55. See “Nyo, Georges Yves,” in Goscha, Historical Dictionary of the Indochina War
(1945–1954), 348; Bodinier, Le Retour de la France en Indochine, 1945–1946, 126–27.
56. General Georges Nyo, No. 73/3.S: “Instruction sur la conduite de l’action politique
et militaire dans la zone Cochinchine—Sud Annam,” dated 14 March 1946, SHAT,
carton 10H984.
57. Franchini, Les Guerres d’Indochine, 571.
58. Gunn, Rebellion in Laos, 123–24. The Rhade and the Jarai are two other tribal
groups from Central Vietnam.
59. For example, the TFEO had requested 8,500 men to be sent out prior to 1 January
1947. By that date only 2,400 were ready and available. Bodinier, Le Retour de la
France en Indochine, 76; “La pacification du Sud Viet-Nam,” prepared by Capitaine
Menard, État-Major—3e Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984. On
the terminology, locals recruited in 1945 were generally referred to as “partisans.”
Beginning in 1946 indigenous troops added to regular French units were referred
to as “suppletifs.” See Bodin, La France et ses Soldats, Indochine, 1945–1954, 74.
60. Bodinier, Le Retour de la France en Indochine, 1945–1946, 70.
61. Bodin, La France et ses Soldats, Indochine, 1945–1954, 72–74.
63. Bulletin de renseignements No. 210/A: “Opérations de repression dans la Region
Saigon-Cho Lon et environs immediats,” prepared by Chef de la Sûreté federale en
Cochinchine, dated 3 April 1946, SHAT, carton 10H602; Gras, L’armée de l’air en
Indochine (1945–1954), 109–11.
64. Darcourt, Bay Vien, 253.
65. “Notes sur le Caodaisme,” prepared by Chef de Bataillon A. M. Savani, dated
November 1954, SHAT, carton 10H2180. See section entitled “Le pontificat de
Pham-Cong-Tac, 1935–1946.”
66. This group operating around Tay Ninh itself had 812 rifles, 42 light machine guns,
and 78 sub-machine guns of unreported provenance, but we can assume they were
of largely Japanese and French make.
67. “Rapport concernant la soumission des Caodistes de la secte de Tay Ninh,” dated
15 June 1946, SHAT, carton 10H2180; Savani, Visage et Images du Sud-Vietnam, 98;
“Compte-rendu sur l’activité Caodaiste et le rôle de la mission de liaison,” prepared
by Lt-Colonel Fray, Chef de la Mission de Contrôle, dated 6 February 1947, SHAT,
carton 10H2180.
68. Darcourt, Bay Vien, 278.
69. “Accord du 8 Janvier 1947” between Lt-Colonel Fray, representative of Général
Commandant les Troupes Françaises en Indochine du Sud, and Pham Cong Tac,
Supérieur du Caodaïsme, SHAT, carton 10H2180.
70. “Compte-rendu sur l’activité Caodaiste et le rôle de la mission de liaison,” prepared
by Lt-Colonel Fray, Chef de la Mission de Contrôle, dated 6 February 1947, SHAT,
carton 10H2180.
72. Brancion, Retour en Indochine du Sud, 81.

73. Brancion, Commando Bergerol, 19–24. One of these operations conducted in June
managed to kill 70 and capture 150, most of who were working as porters for the
Viet Minh.
74. Gras, L’armée de l’air en Indochine (1945–1954), 137.
75. Ibid., 121–22.
77. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 36–37.
79. Brancion, Commando Bergerol, 32.
80. Darcourt, Bay Vien, 279; Brancion, Retour en Indochine du Sud, 61.
81. Translation of captured Viet Minh document, “Circulaire du Commissaire aux
Armées du Nambo, addressee aux Commissaires aux Armées provinciaux, objet:
organisation des troupes d’auto-défense (Tu Ve Chien Dau Quan),” dated 10
December 1946, prepared by Nguyen Binh, SHAT, carton 10H602.
82. At some point at the end of 1946 radio communication was reopened between
Hanoi and the Nam Bo committee. David Elliott says this occurred in December
1946 (see Elliott, The Vietnamese War, 59). However, the fact that the French have
quite a number of decrypts dating from the end of November suggests it was
slightly before that. “Documents Vietnamiens,” Vo Nguyen Giap to Nguyen Binh,
Hanoi, dated 30 November 1946, translation prepared by 2eme Bureau, SHAT, car-
ton 10H602. Of the two radio sets in use at this point, one was located somewhere
in Baria and another in Tay Ninh. “Documents Vietnamiens,” Nguyen Binh to Vo
Nguyen Giap, dated 8 December 1946, translation prepared by 2eme Bureau, SHAT,
carton 10H602.
83. “Documents Vietnamiens,” Comité de Résistance sud-vietnam to Chef de la résis-
tance dans l’Ouest, dated 12 December 1946, translation prepared by 2ème Bureau,
84. “Documents Vietnamiens,” Le Duan to Nam Bo Executive Committee, dated 8
December 1946, translation prepared by 2eme Bureau, SHAT, carton 10H602.
Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984; “Extraits d’un rapport men-
suel paru sous le timbre du conseiller militaire du Haut-Commissaire et signé
Vally,” dated 10 September 1946, reprinted in Bodinier, Le Retour de la France en
Indochine, 282.
86. “Decret portant affectation d’un Officier Général de l’Armée de Terre,” copy of doc-
ument signed by Georges Bidault, président du gouvernement provisoire de la
République, dated 15 November 1946, SHAT, carton 10H157.
87. “Extraits d’un rapport mensuel paru sous le timbre du conseiller militaire du Haut-
Commissaire et signé Valluy,” dated 10 September 1946, reprinted in Bodinier, Le
Retour de la France en Indochine, 286.
88. The first wave of reinforcements arriving in early February consisted of the fol-
lowing: 1st Bataillon de marche (BM) of the 1st RIC, 1st BM of the 2nd RIC. These
were followed in March by 1st BM of the 35th RI, 1st BM of the 151st RI Lastly in
April the TFIS received the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 7th Bataillons de Tirailleurs Algériens
(BTA) as well as one battalion of the 4th Régiment de Tirailleurs Marocains (RTM)
and a single battalion of the 4th Régiment de Tirailleurs Tunisiens (RTT). “La
pacification du Sud Viet-Nam,” prepared by Capitaine Menard, État-Major—3e

Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984. See section entitled “accroisse-
ment des effectifs.”
89. Bodinier, Indochine 1947, 69; Goscha, Historical Dictionary of the Indochina War
(1945–1954), 108.
90. “Procès-verbal de la Réunion du Comité de Pacification du 14 Fevrier 1947,” SHAT,
carton 10H165.
91. Memorandum from Haut Commissaire de France pour l’Indochine G. D’Argenlieu,
“Objet: Pacification de la Cochinchine,” dated 7 February 1947, SHAT, carton 10H165.
92. Zones West and Center were created in February. East came into being in March.
Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984. See section entitled “reorgani-
zation du dispotif.”
94. “Annexe I au memorandum du 7 Fevrier sur la pacification de la Cochinchine,”
95. Zone West incorporated the former sectors of Can Tho and Vinh Long and
included the following provinces: Can Tho, Long Xuyen, Chau Doc, Ha Tien, Rach
Gia, Soc Trang, Bac Lieu, Tra Vinh, Vinh Long, Sa Dec, and Ben Tre.
96. Jean Valluy, “Note d’Information No. 1316/3/S,” prepared by État-Major 3ème
Bureau, dated May 1947, SHAT, carton 10H165.
97. “Comité exécutif de pacification de la Cochinchine: Directive No. 1,” prepared by
Le Van Hoach, Président du Comité Exécutif de Pacification, dated 10 February
1947, SHAT, carton 10H165.
98. The tache d’huile or oil slick was the name given to the manner of colonial conquest
practiced by Gallieni in Tonkin in the 1890s. According to Herbert Lyautey, at the
time Gallieni’s subordinate, the method was to simultaneously pursue “roads, tele-
graphs, markets and European and native concessions, so that with pacification a
great band of civilization advances like a spot of oil.” Lyautey quoted in Hoisington,
Lyautey and the French Conquest of Morocco, 7.
99. “Circulaire: Pacification de la Cochinchine,” prepared by Tran Van Ty, Vice-
président du gouvernment provisoire de la République de Cochinchine, Ministre
de l’Interieur, dated 22 February 1947, SHAT, carton 10H165.
100. “Procès-verbal de la Réunion d’une Commission chargée d’étudier les questions de
collecte et de transport du paddy,” dated 23 March 1947, SHAT, carton 10H165.
101. General Nyo, “Instruction personnelle & secrète pour les commandants de zone &
les commandants de secteurs,” dated 23 June 1947, SHAT, carton 10H984.
102. “Conduite de l’action politique et administrative en vue de la Pacification,” pre-
pared by Tran Van Ty, Vice-Président du Gouvernment provisoire de la République
de Cochinchine, Ministre de l’Interieur, dated 13 March 1947, SHAT, carton 10H165.
103. Colonel Le Pulloch (representative of General Valluy), “Procès-verbal de la
Réunion du Comité de Pacification,” dated 23 June 1947, SHAT, carton 10H165.
104. General Nyo, “Instruction personnelle & secrète pour les commandants de zone &
les commandants de secteurs,” dated 23 June 1947, SHAT, carton 10H984.
Bureau. Dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984.
106. “Procès-verbal de la Réunion d’une Commission chargée d’étudier les questions de
collecte et de transport du paddy,” dated 23 March 1947, SHAT, carton 10H165.
107. “Évolution des forces V.M. du Nambo de Septembre 1945 à Janvier 1952,” pre-
pared by État-Major, 2ème Bureau, dated 10 January 1952, SHAT, carton 10H3746;
Franchini, Les Guerres d’Indochine: de la Conquête française à 1949, 575; Brancion,
Commando Bergerol, 51.
108. There is a distinction here that would be established later on. Commandos de
choc (shock commandos) were organized at the sector or zone level and were
intended to infiltrate into enemy-controlled areas and deliver “rapid and brutal
strikes” against the Viet Minh. As time went on there were also commandos de
débarquement that operated with the dinassauts but which were commanded by
army officers lent to the navy, as well as commandos marine, which were exclu-
sively navy organizations. See Ély, Les Enseignements de la Guerre d’Indochine
(1945–1954), 186.
109. See chapter 4.
110. Bodinier, Indochine 1947, 35.
112. Estival, La Marine française dans la Guerre d’Indochine, 192–93.
113. Croizat, The Brown Water Navy, 59; “Enseignements de la guerre d’Indochine,” pre-
pared by État-Major de l’Armée de Terre, 1953, SHAT, carton 10H984; “Situation
des T.F.I.S., mois de septembre,” 3ème Bureau, dated September 1949, SHAT, carton
10H906.
115. Savani, Visage et Images du Sud-Vietnam, 112–13; Ho Tai, Millenarianism and
Peasant Politics in Vietnam, 144.
116. “Instruction personnelle et secrète pour le Général Nyo, Commandant les T.F.I.S.,”
prepared by General Valluy, dated 19 March 1947, SHAT, carton 10H168. Nyo was
required to render back to Valluy the Moroccan battalion from Zone East as well
as the III/69th RTA; Zone West and Center had to each give up an Algerian battal-
ion. Two more infantry battalions of the 3rd REI were removed from Saigon/Cho
Lon sector. “Instruction personnelle & secrète pour les commandants de zone &
les commandants de secteurs,” prepared by General Nyo, dated 23 June 1947, SHAT,
carton 10H984.
117. “Note d’information pour les généraux commandants les T.F.I.S., T.F.C.A.,” pre-
pared by General Valluy, P.A. Chef d’Escadron Terron, Chef du 3eme Bureau, dated
May 1947, SHAT, carton 10H165. The exact day of this order is not legible on the
archive copy.
118. “Procès-verbal de la Réunion du Comité de Pacification du 23 Juin 1947,” SHAT,
carton 10H165.
Chapter 4
1. The phrase l’ossature solide in the chapter title means strong bones.
2. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 24. Lucien Bodard called Latour a
“hobereau,” or “country squire.” Bodard, L’enlisement, 121.
3. “Instructions pour le combat et la pacification dans le Vietnam-Sud,” prepared by
General Boyer de Latour, reprinted for use by the FTSV in 1952 under the auspices
of General Bondis, SHAT, carton 10H985.
4. “Colo” was the common shorthand for the French colonial army established
in 1900. Prior to 1900 the troupes de marine, from which much of the colonial
army’s heritage was derived, primarily handled military matters in the colonies.
Montagnon, Histoire de l’Armée française, 194.
5. Goscha, Historical Dictionary of the Indochina War (1945–1954), 73.
6. Bergot, La Coloniale, 16.
8. A GTM at this time had three tabors (battalions) in addition to a headquarters
goum (company) and a service goum. Their heaviest weapons were a section of
81-mm mortars (four pieces) assigned to each tabor. Bimberg, The Moroccan
Goums, 51. Douglas Porch, in describing the strangeness of North African irregu-
lar units, called them neither a military unit after the European fashion or a mili-
tia, but rather a “tribe created by the officer who was their patriarch.” Porch, The
Conquest of Morocco, 129.
9. Bimberg, The Moroccan Goums, 7, 32.
10. Ibid., 45.
11. Ibid., 82–84.
12. Ibid., 103–11.
13. Porch, The Conquest of Morocco, 131.
14. It is obviously important to note that how Lyautey and his like accomplished
things and how they claimed to have accomplished those things could diverge
considerably. His emphasis on the peaceful “penetration” of Morocco carried out
by Moroccans themselves was largely propaganda and ignored the brutal real-
ity of colonial warfare, even under the putatively enlightened auspices of Lyautey.
Hoisington, Lyautey and the French Conquest of Morocco, 34.
15. Guillaume, Les Berbères marocains et la Pacification de l’Atlas central, 1912–1933, 8.
16. For the best view of France’s civilizing mission and the paradoxes of a republic pur-
suing an imperial vision see Conklin, A Mission to Civilize.
18. Bimberg, The Moroccan Goums, 128.
20. Ibid., 26.
21. “Compte-rendu sur la pacification: secteur de Mytho,” prepared by Lt-Col Noblet,
Cdt le Secteur de MYTHO, dated 11 Aug 1947, SHAT, carton 10H4322.
22. “Compte-rendu bi-mensuel: période du 8 au 31 Octobre 1947,” prepared by
Lieutenant Froitier, Officier de Renseignements, 1/10e R.A.C., SHAT, carton
10H4950.
24. “Situation des unités blindées de Cochinchine, Août 1947,” prepared by the État-Ma-
jor—3e Bureau, SHAT, carton 10H984.
26. Mai Elliott, translator’s introduction to No Other Road to Take, by Dinh, 9.
27. Goscha, Historical Dictionary of the Indochina War (1945–1954), 272.
29. “Note de service: création de brigades catholiques,” dated 19 October 1947, pre-
pared by General Latour, Commandant les troupes françaises en Indochine du Sud,
SHAT, carton 10H2217; “Note de Service No. 527/3,” dated 27 October 1947, pre-
pared by General Chanson, Commandant l’AD/3 et la Zone Centre, SHAT, carton
10H2217.
30. Mai Elliott, translator’s introductionto No Other Road to Take, by Định, 10.
31. Despite the title, after the initial three the additional UMDC “brigades” each had
a nominal strength of only about sixty men, making them companies rather than
brigades by Western measures. “Note 364/IP,” dated 6 April 1948, prepared by
Capitaine Boss, Inspecteur des forces suppletives, SHAT, carton 10H2217; “Mise
sur pied des brigades de Sampans,” dated 30 September 1948, prepared by Colonel
Redon, Commandant la Zone Ouest, SHAT, carton 10H2217.
32. Mai Elliott, translator’s introductionto No Other Road to Take, by Định, 13.
33. Savani, Visage et Images du Sud-Vietnam, 125; “Note de Service: Centre d’instruc-
tion des unités mobiles de défense des Chrétientés,” dated 29 August 1948, prepared
by Général de Brigade Latour, Commandant les troupes françaises en Indochine
Sud, SHAT, carton 10H2217.
34. Méric was also married to Marie-Madeleine Fourcade, who was the head of one of
France’s largest resistance networks during the war. Their marriage, unfortunately,
ended this same year. See Fourcade, Noah’s Ark.
36. What follows concerning Méric’s opinions on Indochina is gleaned from his report
of December 1946. “Rapport de tournée effectuée du 17 au 20 Décembre dans la
region du sous-secteur de Ben Tre (Quartier du Batri, Quartier d’An Hoa, Quartier
de Mocay),” prepared by Lieutenant-Colonel Méric, Commandant en second le
3ème R.E.I., dated 22 December 1946, SHAT, carton 10H906.
37. Napoleon quoted in Chandler, The Campaigns of Napoleon, 149.
38. Doughty, Pyrrhic Victory, see conclusion; Doughty, The Breaking Point; Posen, The
Sources of Military Doctrine, chapter 4 (France); and most important, Doughty, The
Seeds of Disaster.
39. After their existence as troupes de marine under the authority of the Ministry of
the Navy, these forces were redubbed the troupes coloniale in 1900 and though they
were placed under the authority now of the Ministry of War, they were entirely sep-
arate from the metropolitan army. Les Troupes de Marine, 1622–1984, 54.
41. To recruit locally. Montagnon, Histoire de l’Armée française, 188.
42. According to Latour, Valluy intended before his recall to “faire désormais l’effort
dans le sud . . . pour remonter ensuite lentement et progressivement vers le nord
[from here on to make his effort in the south . . . to go up then slowly and progres-
sively toward the north].” Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 97.
44. “Ordre d’Opération: VEGA,” dated 12 February 1948, prepared by Lt-Colonel de
Sairigné, Commandant l’OPÉRATION “VEGA,” SHAT, carton 10H4950.
45. “Compte-rendu d’Opération ‘VEGA,’” dated 23 February 1948, prepared by
Lt-Colonel de Sairigné, Commandant la 13e DBLE, Secteur de HOC MON,
Commandant l’opération “VEGA,” SHAT, carton 10H4950.
46. The units present either in part or in totality in the vicinity of the operation were
chi doi 1, 5, 6 (one company), 11, 12, 13, 15, 23, and 25. See Annex II of “Compte-
rendu d’Opération ‘VEGA,’” dated 23 February 1948, prepared by Lt-Colonel de
Sairigné, Commandant la 13e DBLE, Secteur de HOC MON, Commandant l’opéra-

tion “VEGA,” SHAT, carton 10H4950.
48. See André-Paul Comor’s foreword to Les Carnets du Lieutenant-Colonel Brunet de
Sairigné, by Sairigné, 12–17.
49. The only exceptions to this were those units, principally to the northwest, who
would traverse Cambodian territory. Sairigné directed these men to show greater
discretion. “Ordre d’Opération: VEGA,” dated 12 February 1948, prepared by
Lt-Colonel de Sairigné, Commandant l’opération “VEGA,” SHAT, carton 10H4950.
50. “Compte-rendu d’Opération ‘VEGA,’” dated 23 February 1948, prepared by
Lt-Colonel de Sairigné, Commandant la 13e DBLE, Secteur de HOC MON,
Commandant l’opération “VEGA,” SHAT, carton 10H4950.
51. See Annex II, “Renseignements,” in “Ordre confidentiel,” prepared by Nguyen Binh
(French translation), dated 9 February 1948, SHAT, carton 10H4950; “Compte-
52. See “Annexe 1: bilan de l’opération des GIONGS,” SHAT, carton 10H4950; “Compte-
53. Vân, Lịch Sử Bộ Tham Mưu Quân Khu 7 Miền Đông Nam Bộ (1945–1975), 57.
54. André-Paul Comor’s foreword to Les Carnets du Lieutenant-Colonel Brunet de
Sairigné, by Sairigné, 21.
55. “Declaration du prisonnier Nguyen Van Lu dit Lai, agent de liaison du Service de
propagande de la province de Bien-Hoa,” taken prisoner by 13th DBLE on 3 March
56. André-Paul Comor’s foreword to Les Carnets du Lieutenant-Colonel Brunet de
Sairigné, by Sairigné, 21.
59. Unsigned report on “convoi Dalat,” SHAT, carton 10H4255.
62. See “Colloquium with H. A. Simon,” in Simon et al., Economics, Bounded Ratio-
nality and the Cognitive Revolution, 28–30.
63. “No. 329/GEN,” prepared by General de Latour, commandant les Troupes Françaises
d’Indochine Sud, dated 31 March 1948, SHAT, carton 10H906.
65. Brocheux and Hémery, Indochina, 26.
66. For example, in December 1948 Blaizot took umbrage with Latour’s conduct of the
war in Cochinchina. He disagreed with using units he had designated as part of
groupes mobiles in fixed locations and implored Latour to find “active” measures to
deal with the enemy. The implication, of course, was that Latour’s policies were too
passive. “Mesures d’urgence à prendre pour parer à toute tentative de dissidence en
Cochinchine,” prepared by Roger Blaizot, Commandant en Chef les Forces Armées

en Extrême-Orient, dated 4 December 1948, SHAT, carton 10H906.
67. “Rapport sur la pacification en Cochinchine,” prepared by Le Général de Division
de Latour, Commandant les Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud, dated 20 August
68. The first battalion siphoned off was Algerian; the subsequent formations were all
Chasseurs cambodgien. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 108.
69. Letter from Latour to Gen. Cdt TFEO, dated 1 October 1948, SHAT, carton 10H906.
70. Ibid.
71. March and Simon, Organizations, 173.
72. Benoît Mandelbrot’s exposition of self-similarity across scale in his exposition of
fractal geometry is the most famous use of this idea. Gleick, Chaos, 103.
73. See section on “Complexity and scale in warfare,”Bar-Yam, Making Things Work, 99.
74. Clausewitz, On War, 75, 77.
75. “Rapport sur la pacification en Cochinchine,” prepared by Le Général de Division
de Latour, Commandant les Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud, dated 20 August
77. For our purposes here we are not making and need not make any real distinction
between so-called classical and neo-classical economics.
78. “Economic man” was actually a derisive term, coined by his critics, for the concept
of the narrowly economically-motivated individual found in the writings of John
Stuart Mill. Persky, “Retrospectives,” 222.
79. This change was not universal, however. The majority of economic thought con-
tinued down another path in which the powers of the putative “economic man”
increased dramatically under models that critics would label “hyperrational.”
Thaler, “From Homo Economicus to Homo Sapiens,” 134.
80. Simon has noted that systems too highly dependent on prediction run the real risk
of being subjected to “undamped oscillation” and that it is occasionally beneficial,
if counterintuitive, to “omit prediction entirely . . . unless the quality of predictions
is high,” which for military operations is a terribly difficult thing to achieve. Simon,
The Sciences of the Artificial, 149.
81. Sandmo, Economics Evolving, 329.
82. Ibid., 339.
83. Rigby, Allied Master Strategists, 210.
84. In the early 1960s no less than General André Beaufre, veteran of all the aforemen-
tioned wars, described strategy as the “method of thought permitting the choosing
and the prioritizing of events, then the choosing of the most effective procedure.”
He went so far in his work to eventually reduce strategy to a formula with few vari-
ables. In Beaufre’s work, originally published in 1963, he argues that strategy can be
calculated by S = KF Ψt. In this case K is a “specific factor of the particular case,” F
stands for the material forces involved, Ψ is the moral force and t is time. Beaufre,
Introduction à la Stratégie, 24, 176–77.
85. Jacob, Scientific Culture and the Making of the Industrial West, 170–73.
86. Logevall, Embers of War, 198–99.
87. See “Bao Dai solution,” in Goscha, Historical Dictionary of the Indochina War
(1945–1954), 53–54.
88. After the war Latour argued that no occupation of the north should have been
contemplated before 1952 at the earliest. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée
française, 72–74.
89. Aron, Paix et Guerre entre les Nations, 654.
90. Ibid., 661.
91. Ibid., 666.
94. Clausewitz, On War, 77. Clausewitz calls war the “collision of two living forces.”
95. Graziani quoted in Knox, Mussolini Unleashed, 121.
96. Here I am borrowing David Bell’s argument that the French Revolution marked
a watershed in Western history during which peace became normative and war,
which prior generations had understood to be man’s basic state of existence,
became an aberration to be concluded rapidly, and if possible, banished altogether.
See Bell, First Total War.
98. Letter No. 668/3-S, prepared by Général de Brigade de Latour, Commandant les
Troupes Françaises en Indochine du Sud, to Monsieur le Général de Division
Commandant les Forces Terrestres en Extrême-Orient, dated 10 August 1948,
99. “Essai des nouvelles mesures pour assurer l’ordre et la securité en Cochinchine,”
prepared by Ho Van Sao, dated 1 January 1948, SHAT, carton 10H4322.
100. Brancion, Retour en Indochine du Sud, 181–82.
101. Bodard, L’enlisement, 119–20.
102. Lịch Sử Nam Bộ Kháng Chiến, 406.
103. Letter from Général de Brigade Boyer de Latour, Commandant les Troupes
françaises en Indochine du Sud, to Général de Division Commandant les Forces
Terrestres en Extrême-Orient, dated 12 January 1949, SHAT, carton 10H906.
104. “Note: approvisionnement en matériel de guerre du Viet Minh par le Siam et la
Birmanie,” dated 4 December 1950, report prepared by the Direction générale de la
documentation, SHAT, carton 10H3746.
107. The second major source of revenue to the Viet Minh was the age-old system of
“contributions,” enacted mainly in French-controlled areas by threat of force and
terrorist actions. This revenue source was relatively immune from the blockade
but suffered as the TFIS tightened its hold over the central portions of the country.
“Note No.3: Attaque du potential économique Viet Minh,” prepared by 3e Bureau,
TFIS, dated 4 November 1948, SHAT, carton 10H906.
108. “Bulletin technique de renseignements,” dated 17 December 1948, prepared by
Bureau federal de documentation, SHAT, carton 10H168.
109. “Circulaire d’application. Reference: decision du Général Cdt. Les F.F.V.S. no. 207 du
7 Février 1950,” dated 13 February 1950, signed by Chanson, SHAT, carton 10H906.
110. For example, in March 1951 the TFIS under Chanson added machine tools, oxygen,
acetylene, hardwood, calcium carbide, tungsten, molding sands, mounting rails,
and ovens to the list of regulated items. “Modificatif No. 2 aux décisions du Général
Commandant les F.F.V.S. sur la réglementation des transports routiers et ferrovi-

aires,” signed by Général de Brigade Chanson, commandant les Forces Franco-
Vietnamiennes du Sud, dated 9 March 1951, SHAT, carton 10H906.
111. “Note No.3: Attaque du potential économique Viet Minh,” prepared by 3e Bureau,
112. Though it is unclear how early this practice began, it was in force by mid-1952.
Considering the TFIS’s chronic shortage in resources, it seems safe to assume they
started shortly after beginning the economic control measures themselves. There
was obviously massive room for corruption here, and Saigon merchants consis-
tently asked for an end to the blockade. “Note de service No. 1907/Bloc/ZO,” pre-
pared by Colonel Noblet, Commandant Zone Ouest, dated 7 July 1952, SHAT,
carton 10H4727. In this particular case, the money (21,280 piastres) was divided
between the Army (13,280), the Navy (4,000), and the Sûreté (4,000).
113. “Texte démarque,” Vo Nguyen Giap to Pha[n] Van Bach, Nguyen Binh, and Nguyen
Thanh Son, dated 13 July 1948, SHAT, carton 10H87.
114. “Bulletin technique de renseignements,” dated 17 December 1948, prepared by
Bureau federal de documentation, SHAT, carton 10H168.
115. “Note No.3: Attaque du potential economique Viet Minh,” prepared by 3e Bureau,
TFIS., dated 4 November 1948, SHAT, carton 10H906.
116. “Traduction document récupéré: circulaire du Commandant du Nambo aux com-
mandants des Zones 7,8,9,” prepared by Nguyen Binh, command du Nambo, dated
12 May 1949, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
117. “Notes sur les activities et financieres Viet Minh: renseignements parvenus du 16 au
22 Novembre 1950,” prepared by Direction générale de la documentation, dated 24
November 1950, SHAT, carton 10H3746.
118. “Note No.3: Attaque du potential économique Viet Minh,” prepared by 3e Bureau,
119. Ibid.
121. Letter from Général de Brigade Boyer de Latour, Commandant les Troupes
françaises en Indochine du Sud, to Général de Division Commandant les Forces
Terrestres en Extrême-Orient, dated 10 August 1948, SHAT, carton 10H906.
123. “Compte-rendu d’opérations,” prepared by Chef de Bataillon Ayrolles, Commandant
3ème BCCP, dated 27 January 1949, SHAT, carton 10H4950.
124. The battalion in question was TD 306. The French reported killing 121 and cap-
turing 247. “Projet de communiqué à la presse au sujet des operations de Go
Cong des 6 & 7 Fevrier,” prepared by Colonel Durand, Commandant Zone Centre
Cochinchine, dated 16 February 1949, SHAT, carton 10H4950.
125. “Secteur de Go Cong: Compte-rendu d’opération,” prepared by Chef de Bataillon
Trinquier, Commandant 2e Bataillon Colonial de Commandos Parachutistes,
dated 16 March 1949, SHAT, carton 10H4950.
126. These forces accounted for all of Latour’s reserves and then some. Following his
decision to pursue a solid plan of pacification after Vega and the deductions from
his command for use elsewhere, Latour’s reserve generally consisted of nothing
more than the BM/4e RTM, the LVTs or “crabes,” the 1er REC, and whatever para-
troops were on hand. As a general rule, paratroops were kept away from any static
duties. Gras, Histoire de la Guerre d’Indochine, 227.
127. The French reported killing 500, and capturing 130. The Viet Minh battalions in
question were tieu doan 307, 309, and 311. This was also the first operation when
the French navy was able to employ their landing craft gun (LCG) in support of an
operation. This vessel came equipped with one 40-mm Bofors cannon, two 20-mm
cannon, two 81-mm mortars, and four 12.8-mm machine guns. Brancion, Retour
en Indochine du Sud, 184–86; Gras, L’armée de l’air en Indochine (1945–1954), 258–59;
Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 309 (1949–1954), 15.
128. The Cambodian population of Tra Vinh was substantial and largely hostile to the
Viet Minh. The area had been retaken at the beginning of the war, but the French
had been compelled to abandon portions of it in 1947. Bernier, Le Commando des
tigres, 133.
130. Boyer de Latour, Le Martyre de l’armée française, 109. While it is impossible to
confirm this number, subordinate commanders dating back to mid-1947 did
report a steady flow of refugees from Viet Minh areas to those under French
protection. “Compte-rendu sur la pacification: secteur de Mytho,” prepared by
Lt-Colonel Noblet, Cdt Secteur de Mytho, dated 11 August 1947, SHAT, carton
10H4322.
133. Ibid.
135. Elliott, The Vietnamese War, 73.
136. These also included reportedly two attempts on Bay Vien’s life by communist
agents. Darcourt, Bay Vien, 308.
137. In July Giap instructed his nominal subordinates in the south to effect a unification
of effort at all costs and urged the factions to put an end to their disagreements lest
the French strangle off the rebellion sector by sector. “Texte démarque,” Vo Nguyen
Giap to Pha[n] Van Bach, Nguyen Binh and Nguyen Thanh Son, dated 13 July 1948,
SHAT, carton 10H87. Hùng, Nguyển Bình, Huyền Thoại và Sự Thật, 363.
138. Always one to hedge his bets, Bay Vien had opened a dialogue with French intel-
ligence through one of his concubines as early as the summer of 1946. “Rapport
sur les contacts pris par la Section des Études Historiques avec les Chefs de l’armée
Binh Xuyen en vue d’un ralliement,” Saigon, 10 September 1946, unsigned, SHAT,
carton 10H995. The Service des Études Historique (SEH) was a section of the
Service de Documentation Extérieure et de Contre-Espionnage (SDECE) charged
with counterespionage. Porch, The French Secret Services, 299.
139. “Thanh lọc,” in Vân, Lịch Sử Bộ Tham Mưu Quân Khu 7 Miền Đông Nam Bộ (1945–
1975), 60.
140. Savani, Visage et Images du Sud Viet-Nam, 133. A. M. Savani, on whose account I
am relying for much of this, was himself the chief of the French intelligence section
and the one with whom Bay Vien negotiated his rallying.
142. Savani, Visage et Images du Sud Viet-Nam, 135–36; Darcourt, Bay Vien, 321.
143. “Rapport sur les contacts pris par la Section des Études Historiques avec les
Chefs de l’armée Binh Xuyen en vue d’un ralliement,” Saigon, 10 September 1946,
unsigned, SHAT, carton 10H995.
144. “Inspection en Cochinchine,” prepared by Commandement des Forces Terrestres
d’Extrême-Orient, dated 15 July 1948, copy unsigned, SHAT, carton 10H906.
145. “Édifice très complexe,” letter from Général de Brigade Boyer de Latour,
Commandant les Troupes françaises en Indochine du Sud, to Général de Division
Commandant les Forces Terrestres en Extrême-Orient, dated 10 August 1948,
146. With the official unification of Vietnam in mid-1949 the various military structures
in play were renamed to reflect the new political realities. The TFIS became the
FTSV to demonstrate Vietnam’s unity among its three parts and separateness from
the other French Indochinese colonial possessions.
147. “Situation des Forces terrestres du Sud Viet Nam: Fin 1949,” SHAT, carton 10H984.
148. In the summer of 1948, for example, before the force reductions of the fall, Latour
had a general reserve of only four battalions. Letter from Général de Brigade Boyer
de Latour, Commandant les Troupes françaises en Indochine du Sud, to Général de
Division Commandant les Forces Terrestres en Extrême-Orient, dated 10 August
149. This contention, at least for the modern French perspective, affirms in part Douglas
Porch’s idea that pacification or counterinsurgency techniques are, in the final anal-
ysis, the retooling of colonial practices. See Porch, Counterinsurgency.
150. Betts, “Is Strategy an Illusion?,” 6.
151. Friedman, The Fifty-Year War, 486. I am indebted to Colin Gray’s work, Strategy for
Chaos, for bringing this quip of Friedman’s to my attention.
Chapter 5
1. Chapter title quotation, “All for the preparation of the general counteroffensive,”
quoted in “Bulletin de renseignement No. 6062: Activité militaire V.M.—Nambo—
campagnes d’automne et d’hiver province de Long-Chau-Hau,” translation of Viet
Minh tract, dated 3 October 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4004.
2. Hùng, Nguyển Bình, Huyền Thoại và Sự Thật, 427–30.
3. It seems likely, but not certain, that the troops Savary observed were members of
tiểu đoàn 410 chủ lực, tasked with protection of the main Nam Bo administrative
headquarters in the Plain of Reeds. Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 309 (1949–1954), 27.
4. This will be discussed more fully below. In brief, the three phases to Maoist revo-
lutionary warfare were an initial defensive stage, a holding or stalemate phase, and
finally a general counteroffensive to defeat the revolution’s enemies in toto.
5. See for example Tra, Vietnam. Tran Van Tra was the commander of Zone VIII
during the phase of the war in question here and briefly commander of the Saigon/
Cho Lon special zone. Even so, his five-volume work about his life starts with the
Geneva Accords of 1954.
6. “Kiệt sức,” Lịch Sử Nam Bộ Kháng Chiến, 411.
7. Author conversation with Lien-Hang Nguyen, February 2014.
8. The theoretical distinction of a strategy of annihilation (Niederwerfungsstrategie)

from a strategy of exhaustion or attrition (Ermattungsstrategie) was made by
German military historian Hans Delbrück. This was eventually carried over into
American military parlance, with finer distinctions being made between attrition
and exhaustion. Freedman, Strategy, 108–9.
9. Zhai, China & the Vietnam Wars, 1950–1975, 28.
10. “Note sur l’artillerie V.M.,” prepared by Chef d’Escadron Boussaire, Chef du 2ème
Bureau, Commandement en Chef des Forces Armées en Extrême-Orient, dated 9
11. As the French believed at the time, the howitzer was probably never utilized for
want of ammunition. “Rapport sur l’affaire du convoi de la Ferme ‘Gressier’—
Secteur CANTHO—20.4.1948,” prepared by Gen. Boyer de Latour, dated 27 April
12. Lịch Sử Nam Bộ Kháng Chiến, 407–10.
13. “Bulletin de renseignments: activités du T.D. 300,” prepared by Chef de Btn Berard,
Chef du 2ème Bureau FFVS, dated 22 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
14. “Exemple de Dich Van: Secteur d’Hocmon,” prepared by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef
du 2ème Bureau, FFVS, dated 22 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
15. “Analyse: document V.M. en date du 18.6.1949 du Cte. Provincial de Vinh Long,”
prepared by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2ème Bureau, dated 22 November 1949,
16. “Note d’Orientation: ref lettre No. 2169/Cab en date du 13.10.1949 du Général en
Chef F.A.E.O.,” prepared by Lt-Colonel Radix, Chef d’Etat-Major, FFVS, dated 14
17. Nguyen, Hanoi’s War, 334.
18. Quoted in Summers, On Strategy, 1.
19. Pike, PAVN, 213.
20. See Hogard, “Guerre Révolutionnaire ou Révolution dans L’art de la Guerre.” The
best overview of this attempt by the French military to deal with revolutionary war
and then to apply it to their war in Algeria remains Paret’s French Revolutionary
Warfare from Indochina to Algeria.
21. For an analysis on how this came about see Kelly, Lost Soldiers.
22. Nguyen, Hanoi’s War, 310.
23. Lockhart, Nation in Arms, 234.
24. This theory comes to me by way of personal conversations with John Guilmartin.
25. Zhang, Mao’s Military Romanticism, 259.
26. Here I am borrowing David Ralston’s notion that society and armies in Europe were
particularly “technicalistic,” i.e., that European armies of the modern period have
been noticeably successful in their ability to “mobilize a multitude of diverse, indi-
vidual energies and to integrate them into a single, articulated whole for the accom-
plishment of some larger purpose.” Ralston, Importing the European Army, 2–3.
27. Detractors termed this idea of class-based logics “polylogism” in the 1940s. Mises,
A Treatise on Human Action, 5.
28. See Nguyen, “Vietnamese Historians and the First Indochina War,” in Lawrence
and Logevall, The First Vietnam War: Colonial Conflict and Cold War Crisis, 42.
29. Taylor, A History of the Vietnamese, 478.
30. Lockhart, Nation in Arms, 41–44.

31. Anderson, Imagined Communities, 87.
32. Taylor, A History of the Vietnamese, 492–93.
33. Once again, the best analysis of this contradiction of France as both republic and
empire is Conklin’s A Mission to Civilize.
34. Taylor, A History of the Vietnamese, 485–86.
35. See Ho Chi Minh, “The path which led me to Leninism,” in Ho Chi Minh: On
Revolution, 5–7.
36. Khanh, Vietnamese Communism, 1925–1945, 55.
38. Marxist theoretician G. V. Plekhanov explored this problem first in 1908. See
Plekhanov, “The Materialist Conception of History,” in Fundamental Problems of
Marxism.
39. Vernon, Commitment and Change, 51–52.
40. Lenin’s concept of the “vanguard” party appeared in his pamphlet What Is to Be
Done? in 1902.
42. Pike, PAVN, 218.
43. Ford, Tet 1968, 10.
44. Vernon, Commitment and Change, 50–51.
45. Tse-Tung, Selected Military Writings of Mao Tse-Tung, 211–12.
46. Ibid., 213.
47. Ibid., 214.
48. See “Strategy in China’s Revolutionary War,” in Tse-Tung, Selected Military Writings
of Mao Tse-Tung, 78–79.
49. Furet, The Passing of the Illusion, 435.
50. One must note here that European socialist “revisionism” à la Eduard Bernstein,
in which much of the rigidity of Communist certainty was replaced by practi-
cal and looser Marxist formulations during the 1890s, had no real equivalent in
the Communist camp of Indochina in the 1940s. Kołakowski, Main Currents of
Marxism, 433.
51. Chinh, The Resistance Will Win, 148.
52. See Chapter 6, “The Vietnamese Modification,” in Hammes, The Sling and the
Stone, 56.
53. Lockhart, Nation in Arms, 68–71.
54. O’Dowd, “Ho Chi Minh and the Origins of the Vietnamese Doctrine of Guerrilla
Tactics,” 561.
55. Marr, Vietnamese Tradition on Trial, 1920–1945, 328.
56. Giap, Peoople’s War, People’s Army, 23.
59. Lịch Sử Na Bộ Kháng Chiến, 259–61.
60. “Bulletin de renseignements: traduction de Tran Van Hoi, commandant en chef de
la garde Nationale (Ve Quoc Quan), Chi doi 1, adressée au chef du Comité d’Assas-
sinat no.3,” prepared by CEFEO, 2e Bureau, dated 14 December 1946, SHAT, carton
10H602; Lịch Sử Nam Bộ Kháng Chiến, 279.
62. The table above is compiled from several sources: Vân, Lịch Sử Bộ Tham Mưu Quân
Khu 7 Miền Đông Nam Bộ (1945–1975); Goscha, “La Guerre par d’autres moyens”;
Lịch Sử Nam Bộ Kháng Chiến; Elliott, The Vietnamese War.
64. Lịch Sử Nam Bộ Kháng Chiến, 279–80.
by Commandement des Forces Terrestres du Sud Vietnam, État-Major, 2e Bureau,
dated 10 January 1952, SHAT, carton 10H3746.
68. “Documents vietnamiens: Comité exécutif du Nambo à Vo Nguyen Giap,” dated 10
69. “Chiến tranh toàn diện”—total war; “lâu dài”—protracted. Quoted from “Gửi Xứ
Uỷ Nam Bộ,” in Văn Kiện Đảng Toàn Tập, 1945–1947, 156.
70. Saigon was called the “cân não.” Quote from “Thư của Trung Ương Đảng Gửi Các
Đồng Chí Nam Bộ,” in Văn Kiện Đảng Toàn Tập, 1945–1947, 163.
71. “Sense of menace” translated from “ý thức uy hiếp.” Quote from Văn Kiện Đảng
Toàn Tập, 1945–1947, 156.
72. “Documents vietnamiens: Nguyen Binh à Vo Nguyen Giap,” dated 8 December
74. Văn Kiện Đảng Toàn Tập, 1945–1947, 163.
75. Soyinka, Climate of Fear, xx.
76. Ibid., 8.
77. Ibid., 45.
78. Lịch Sử Cuộc Kháng Chiến Chống Thực Dân Pháp, 1945–1954 Phần Ba, 35.
79. Giap reiterated this plan to Nguyen Binh in the summer of 1948, stating that it was
imperative that Binh (1) create base areas totally under Viet Minh control; (2) sys-
tematically sabotage French lines of communication; (3) destroy rubber production
and the means by which it is transported; (4) reinforce his actions in the large cities,
particularly Saigon. “Note: Fait envoi à la Defense Nationale des récentes directives
adressées par le Gouvenement rebelle aux Forces rebelles de Cochinchine,” pre-
pared by Colonel de Crevecoeur, Chef d’État-Major, LTC Marion, Commandant la
Section Opérationnelle, dated 16 July 1948, SHAT, carton 10H87.
80. “Note transmis par le Service Français securité Sud Vietnam sous le No. 5313/S le 23
Mar 1950: projets d’attentats terrorists dans la region Saigon/Cholon,” prepared by
Chef de Btn Girard, Chef d’État-Major, FFVS, dated 25 March 1950, SHAT, carton
10H4969.
82. Ibid.; “Rapport mensuel du Secteur Saigon/Cholon: mois d’avril 1950,” prepared by
LTC Rousson, commandant le Secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 5 May 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H4970.
83. The three platoons were numbered 3018, 3019, and 3020. As is often the case, the stan-
dard translation of “platoon” is less than helpful, as these units were much larger than
the normal conception of a platoon. “Situation V.M. dans le Secteur Saigon/Cholon à
la date du 1er Mars 1950,” prepared by LTC Rousson, commandant le Secteur Saigon/
Cholon. Dated 11 March 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969; “Bulletin de Renseignements:
déclaration d’un P.G. arrete le 23 Fevrier 1950,” prepared by Chef de Btn Girard, État-
Major, 2ème Bureau, Secteur Saigon/Cholon, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
84. Công an Nam Bộ Trong Kháng Chiến Chống Thực Dân Pháp Xâm Lược, 114–15.
85. “Document récupéré à Anlong Tien (sur un cadaver): service de la Sûreté du Nam
Bo,” dated 3 May 1951, SHAT, carton 10H636; “Analyse: rapport de la Sûreté du
Nambo,” prepared by LTC Rousson, commandant secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 24
86. “Renseignement—Objet: Le 6ème Congrès National du ‘Cong An’ Vietminh.
Critiques des activités et décisions prises,” prepared by SDECE, dated 17 November
87. “Bulletin de renseignements No. 938: activités V.M.—Ville de Saigon/Cholon—
l’assassinate des militaries français,” prepared by Chef de Btn, Berard, Chef du 2ème
Bureau, source: SRO, dated 16 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969. There are
only occasional notes of suspected poisoning by cooks to be found in the French
records. One such occurred on 18 February 1950 when multiple officers fell sick
from food prepared by Vietnamese cooks, whereas evidently no Vietnamese sol-
diers were afflicted. “Surveillance du personnel autochtone travaillant dans les
mess et popotes,” prepared by Capitaine Monnet, Chef du poste “S.M.” des FFVS,
dated 27 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
88. “Bulletin de renseignements: Secteur Saigon/Cholon,” prepared by Chef de Btn
Girard, Chef du 2ème Bureau, Secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 22 March 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H4969; “Situation V.M. dans le Secteur Saigon/Cholon à la date du 1er
Mars 1950,” prepared by LTC Rousson, commandant le Secteur Saigon/Cholon,
89. “Bulletin de renseignements: Novembre 1948,” signed by M. Dubouchage, Haut
Commissariat de France pour l’Indodochine, dated 17 December 1948, SHAT, car-
ton 10H168.
90. “Note No. 19,626: constitution d’une ‘cinquième colonne’ au profit du Viet Minh
dans le region de Travinh,” prepared by Marcel Bazin, Controleur de la Sûreté
Federale, dated 12 October 1949, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
91. “Bulletin de renseignements No. 6,555: Activité V.M.—Zone VII,” prepared by
Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2ème Bureau, dated 19 November 1949, SHAT, carton
10H4969.
92. “Memoires de voyage ecrites par Nguyen Binh à l’intention de sa femme Thanh:
documents recuperes à Tanot le 30 Octobre 1951: Annexe II—L’action Viet-Minh
dans les villes,” prepared by 2ème Bureau, SHAT, carton 10H636.
93. “Analyse: rapport de la Sûreté du Nambo,” prepared by LTC Rousson, comman-
dant secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 24 November 1949, SHAT, carton 10H4969;
“Bulletin de renseignements: Secteur Saigon/Cholon,” prepared by Chef de Btn
Girard, Chef du 2ème Bureau, Secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 22 March 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H4969.
Commissariat de France pour l’Indochine, dated 17 December 1948, SHAT, carton
10H168.
96. Just the garrison battalion included a unit of Senegalese, a company of Cambodians,
a truck detachment, and a commando group. “Note de Service: Creation du
Bataillon de Garnison de Saigon-Cholon,” signed Jean Valluy, commandant TFEO,
dated 30 Jan 1948, SHAT, carton 10H168; “Stationnement des troupes françaises en
Indochine du Sud à la date du 1er Mars 1947,” prepared by État-Major, 3ème Bureau,
97. Labrousse, La Méthode Vietminh, 74.
98. “Note de service sur l’organisation des Troupes populaires,” translation of a docu-
ment prepared by Le Duan, dated 12 December 1949, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
100. Official Communist histories of this period claim that Le Duan was named the
head of the Southern Militias in November 1947 and that his department existed as
separate from the staff answerable to Nguyen Binh. While possible, it seems more
likely that this detail was inserted into the accounts to provide Le Duan distance
from Nguyen Binh’s later failures. Vân, Lịch Sử Bộ Tham Mưu Quân Khu 7 Miền
Đông Nam Bộ (1945–1975), 50.
101. Lịch Sử Quân Đội Nhân Dân Việt Nam, 294–95.
102. “Situation V.M. dans le Secteur Saigon/Cholon à la date du 1er Mars 1950,” prepared
by LTC Rousson, commandant le Secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 11 March 1950,
103. The official history of Zone VII says Binh was not formally appointed a lieu-
tenant-general and military commissioner for all Nam Bo (Trung tướng and kiêm
Ủy viên quân sự Nam Bộ) until January of 1948, but he seems to have been exercis-
ing de facto control of the southern war effort long before that and French intelli-
gence certainly believed he was in charge. Vân, Lịch Sử Bộ Tham Mưu Quân Khu 7
Miền Đông Nam Bộ (1945–1975), 55.
104. Though the official history of the Quân Đội Nhân Dân Việt Nam refers to trung
doan operating in War Zone IX, these seem to have been little more than fictions
of nomenclature, never arising to the organizational level of their eastern breth-
ren. There was also a TD 300 activated in early 1948 from personnel in Saigon. Lịch
Sử Quân Đội Nhân Dân Việt Nam, 309–10. Through 1949–50, TD 300 seems to
have operated chiefly around the outskirts of Saigon. “Bulletin de reinseignements
No. 6,520,” prepared by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2ème Bureau FFVS, dated 18
105. Though they routinely translate trung doan as “regiment,” the 2eme Bureau recom-
mended that trung doan be understood as medium-sized tactical grouping. The
lack of anything like muster rolls for these units makes any statement of size largely
speculative. “Note sur les appellations V.M. No. 5.509,” prepared by État-Major,
2ème Bureau, Commandant en Chef des Forces Armées en Extrême-Orient, dated
14 November 1950, SHAT, carton 10H636.
107. Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 309 (1949–1954), 22.
108. Vân, Lịch Sử Bộ Tham Mưu Quân Khu 7 Miền Đông Nam Bộ (1945–1975), 60–61.
109. Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 309 (1949–1954), 21.
110. Lịch Sử Quân Đội Nhân Dân Việt Nam, 308.
ton 10H168.
113. Davidson, Vietnam at War, 81. Lucien Bodard also made this claim. See Bodard,
L’enlisement, 153.
114. A latecomer to the game, TD 300, for example, had only two tieu doan, td 898
and 899, the former of which by 1950 was still only composed of two companies.
“Fiche de reinseignements No. 35/10,” prepared by Chef d’escadron Herrgott, adju-
tant 10ème RAC et de secteur des VAICOS, dated 28 February 1950, SHAT, carton
10H4969.
115. Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 309 (1949–1954), 24.
117. There were always exceptions. In preparation for the large offensives of 1950 the
Viet Minh in Baria began shipping weapons out via boat to units stationed closer to
Saigon. These shipments reportedly included mortars, machine guns, and sub-ma-
chine guns. “Bulletin de renseignements No. 1,599: Activité Viet Minh—Saigon/
Cholon,” prepared by Chef de Btn Savani, Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS, dated 22
March 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
119. For example, when two platoons of td 307 visited the village of Thanh Phu in
November 1949, they received twenty chickens, two roast pigs, eighty-three packets
of dried buffalo, in addition to a variety of other commodities, including tobacco.
“Note de renseignements No. 1503: documents récupérés au cours de l’affaire de
CAUKE,” prepared by A. M. Savani, Chef de Btn, Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS,
120. Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 309 (1949–1954), 22.
123. French intelligence vacillated between dubbing unit 300 a tieu doan or a full trung
doan. In actual strength, it was closer to a battalion in the combats of 1950.
124. Gras, L’armée de l’air en Indochine (1945–1954), 393; Carte “Region de Travinh:
implentation VM au 1–12–1950,” SHAT, carton 10H906.
125. “Note d’Information sur les forces armée rebelles: pourquoi Nguyen Binh a perdu
la confiance,” 2e Bureau, État-Major interarmées et des forces terrestres, dated 5
June 1952, SHAT, carton 10H621.
126. Pike uses the term dau tranh or struggle to describe the overall politico-military
strategy pursued by the Vietnamese Communists. I have avoided the term because
it was never in use by the Vietnamese themselves as the description of their strate-
gic method. That is not to say, however, that the concept is without merit as a way
to conceptualize Vietnamese Communist thinking. Pike, PAVN, 226–27.
127. In his work on “Strategy in China’s Revolutionary War,” Mao cautioned that while
the revolutionary must recognize the “guerrilla character” of the war, he must also
consistently oppose an untrammeled “guerrilla-ism” within the Red Army. Tse-
Tung, Selected Military Writings of Mao Tse-Tung, 95.
129. “Traduction d’un document récupéré par le Secteur de Tanan: extrait du procès-ver-
bal de l’Assemblee des T.P. de la delegation du Nhabe en date du 25.6.1949,” prepared
by Chef de Btn Girard, 2ème Bureau, Secteur Saigon-Cholon, dated 22 November
130. “Traduction d’un document V.M. emanant du Comité éxécutif et Resistance de la
Province de Giadinh, intitulé ‘Commentaires sur la Demarche auprés des ennemis
et des traitres,’” prepared by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS, dated
13 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
131. “Traduction de document rebelle: Instruction pour les échelons d’Information
de la Province—Sec. d’Inform. de Gia Dinh,” prepared by Chef de Btn Girard, 2e
Bureau Secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 15 March 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
132. “Traduction de document V.M.: difficultés du Service de Liaison V.M.—transmis
par le secteur de Vinh-Long,” prepared by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2e Bureau,
dated 18 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
133. “Situation de l’armée Viet Minh: Copie des déclaration faites par un Legionnaire
deserteur ayant servi pendant quelques mois avec les Armees V.M. a/s de la situ-
ation difficile des V.M. en matière économique,” prepared by Lt-Colonel Lorotte,
Chef du Bureau Territorial du Service Militaire d’Information FFVS, dated 17 April
134. “Bilan de l’année 1952,” prepared by 2e Bureau FTSV, dated 4 February 1953, SHAT,
carton 10H3746.
135. “Analyse: Document VM en date du 18.6.1949 du Cte Provincial de Vinh Long,”
prepared by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS, dated 22 November
ton 10H168.
138. See note 46.
139. “Traduction d’un document V.M. emanant du Comité éxécutif et Resistance de la
Province de Giadinh, intitulé “Commentaires sur la Demarche aupres des ennemis
et des traitres,” prepared by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS, dated
140. Assistant Secretary of Defense (International Security Affairs) Office of Military
Aid Progs—Operations Division, Control Branch Subject File, 1950–1953, National
Archive and Record Administration (NARA), Record Group (RG) 330, Box 157. See
Folder “Indochina Background Book” for comments made by General Trapnell at
his debriefing as MAAG chief, 3 May 1954.
141. “Rapport sur la Base opérationnelle du Sud—Indochinois: rapport établi par le

General V.M. Nguyen Binh à destination au Haut-Commandament pendant son
voyage à travers l’Est—Cambodge,” date uncertain, SHAT, carton 10H636.
Commissariat de France pour l’Indodochine. Dated 17 December 1948, SHAT, car-
ton 10H168.
143. “Note No. 19,626: constitution d’une “cinquième colonne” au profit du Viet Minh
dans la region de Travinh,” prepared by M. Bazin, Controleur de la Sûreté Federale,
dated 12 October 1949, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
144. “Bulletin de renseignements No. 6,457: A/S—Activité V.M.—NAMBO,” SRO pre-
pared by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2e Bureau, dated 15 Nov 1949, SHAT, carton
10H4969.
145. “Bulletin de renseignements No. 1,268: Activité V.M.—Mobilisation générale chez
les Viet Minh,” prepared by Chef de Btn A. M. Savani, Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS,
146. Văn Kiện Đảng Toàn Tập, Tập 11—1950, 1.
147. Ho Chi Minh, “Thư gửi Hội Nghị Toàn Quốc Của Đảng, Ngày 20–1–1950,” in Văn
Kiện Đảng Toàn Tập, Tập 11—1950, 17–18.
148. “Hoàn thành nhiệm vụ chuẩn bị, chuyển mạnh sang tổng phản công,” in Văn Kiện
Đảng Toàn Tập, Tập 11—1950, 19–20.
149. Tse-Tung, Selected Military Writings of Mao Tse-Tung, 130.
Chapter 6
2. Davidson, Vietnam at War, 81; Hùng, Nguyển Bình, Huyền Thoại và Sự Thật, 58.
Bureau, dated 15 Mar 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984; Guillet, Pour L’honneur, 75.
5. Ibid., 20.
6. “Modèle E: Général de Brigade CHANSON, Charles, Marie, Ferréol, Commandant les
Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud et Commissaire de la République pour le Sud
Vietnam,” dated 1950, SHAT, carton 10H328; Brancion, Retour en Indochine du Sud, 42.
7. “Traduction de document récupéré par le Quartier Autonome de Giong Ong To
le 10 Juillet 1950,” original document dated 9 March 1950, attributed to Tran Dinh
Xu, chief of LTD 306/312, French translation dated 12 June 1950, SHAT, carton
10H4970.
8. Guillet, Pour L’honneur, 20–21.
9. Letter referencing Charles Chanson from Général de Brigade Regnault, État-Major
de l’Armée, détaché auprès des Missions Militaires Américaines et Britanniques en
France, dated 15 October 1945, SHAT, carton 10H328.
11. The Vaicos sector included the provinces of Cholon, Ta Nan, My Tho, and Go Cong.
“Modèle Ebis: Colonel Chanson, Charles, Marie, Ferréol, Commandant l’A.D.3. et le
Secteur des VAICOS,” dated 1946, SHAT, carton 10H328.
12. There are interesting parallels and contrasts here between French artillerymen in
Indochina and what American artillery units experienced when given territorial
roles in the Iraq War from 2003 to 2011.

16. Brancion, Commando Bergerol, 18.
17. Guillet, Pour L’honneur, 25. Even after Bergerol’s own death in an ambush in
September 1947, his commando unit continued to operate at an incredible pace.
Part of this, of course, came from the fact that this unit primarily paid and fed itself
from what it could take from captured Viet Minh stocks. For example, the log of
his commando team’s activity for November 1948 shows the unit engaged in patrol,
ambush or ratissage (search and sweep) on nearly every day of the month. “Activité
du Commando Bergerol pour la periode du 1er au 30 Novembre 1948,” prepared by
Capitaine Pic, Commanndant le IIe/4ème RAC et le Quartier de Mytho, dated 4
19. In French chef is a general term for boss, leader, commander or chief. See General
Nyo’s “Notes d’année courante” in “Modèle Ebis: Colonel Chanson, Charles, Marie,
Ferréol, Commandant l’A.D.3. et le Secteur des VAICOS,” dated 1946, SHAT, carton
10H328.
20. It has taken considerable time to rediscover the utility of this work. See Rid, “The
Nineteenth Century Origins of Counterinsurgency Doctrine.”
22. “Extraits d’une lettre adressée, le 17 Janvier 1947, par le Général Chanson au Général
Cdt les T.F.I.S.,” reprinted in Guillet, Pour L’honneur, 125–26.
24. Ibid., 16.
25. District civil servants became part of the French officialdom in 1905 in Cochinchina.
Brocheux and Hémery, Indochina, 101.
27. This was really a fee imposed on Chinese merchants who found themselves need-
ing immediate aid or, having been attacked, a tow to the safety of a French post.
Guillet, Pour L’honneur, 47–48.
28. The Chinese in Cochinchina were only “foreigners” in the sense that they were
non-Vietnamese. They were not, however, newcomers to the south. Many of the
Chinese communities far pre-dated those of their Vietnamese neighbors. Taylor, A
History of the Vietnamese, 323.
29. In many operations in Zone Center, especially in the western portion, it was not
uncommon for UMDC to make up at least a plurality of the infantry component.
For example, see “Compte rendu d’opération 20 Mars 1949,” prepared by Lieutenant
Colonel Riou, Cdt le 10ème R.A.C. et le secteur de TANAN, dated 21 March 1949,
30. “Le Général de Brigade Chanson, Commandant les Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes
du Sud à Monsieur le Général de Corps d’Armée Commandant en Chef des Forces
Armées en Extrême-Orient, No. 2940/FFVS,” dated 26 June 1950, SHAT, carton
10H995.
31. Later Communist historiography noted that, even with the French deeply commit-
ted to the war in Tonkin, the level of French activity in and around the center of
the country made things very difficult for Viet Minh units operating there. Lịch Sử
Nam Bộ Kháng Chiến, 287.
32. “Compte rendu mensuel pour le mois de Septembre 1947,” prepared by Lieutenant-
Colonel Durand, Commandant le 10e R.A.C. et le secteur de Cholon, dated 7
October 1947, SHAT, carton 10H4950.
33. “Directives politiques pour les troupes d’Indochine du Sud,” Général de Latour,
Commandant les Troupes Françaises de l’Indochine du Sud, Commaissaire de la
Republique en Cochinchine, dated 13 March 1948, SHAT, carton 10H168.
34. “Period of misery.” General Chanson quoted in “Après les durs combats de
Décembre 1949 dans la region de Travinh,” document reproduced in Guillet, Pour
L’honneur, 127.
35. Bernier, Le Commando des tigres, 150–52.
36. Later Communist reports would complain of their almost total inability to
make inroads among the Khmer populations of Cochinchina. They particularly
noted that among a Khmer population of nearly 135,000 around Soc Trang, the
Communists had only seventeen party members. “Traduction d’un document V.M.
recuperé le 20 Avril 1951 par le secteur Saigon-Cholon ayant pour object ‘projet
concernant la formation des Comités parti au Nam Bo en 1951,’” Chef d’Escadron
Boussaire, Chef du 2ème Bureau, dated 2 May 1951, SHAT, carton 10H636.
37. Much of the narrative that follows is highly dependent on the unit history of td 307,
one of the premier Viet Minh battalions in 1949–50. Viet Minh unit histories are
difficult to come by. In this case, it is very fortunate that we have one for td 307, a
key player in the battles in Tra Vinh and a unit that the French even at the time rec-
ognized was extremely skillful. Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 307 (1948–1954), 37.
38. Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 309 (1949–1954), 38–39.
39. Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 307 (1948–1954), 37.
40. “Articulation et commandement des F.F.V.S.” Lieutenant-Colonel Radix, Chef
d’État-Major, dated 25 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4369. Leclerc formed the
BMEO in August 1945 from ship-borne personnel. They served as ground troops for
the recapture of Indochina and after 1946 served as the manpower for the amphibi-
ous corps in Tonkin and Cochinchina. In Cochinchina this was the Flottille amphi-
bie Indochine Sud. Ladrange, “La Brigade Marine D’extrême-Orient” 88–91.
41. Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 307 (1948–1954), 37.
42. Ibid., 41.
43. Ibid., 43.
44. Ibid., 45.
45. Ibid., 46–47.
46. Ibid., 48–49.
47. Bodinier, Le Retour de la France en Indochine, 1945—1946, 36.
48. The unit history of td 307 claims that they took ninety-seven men prisoner. Lịch Sử
Tiểu Đoàn 307 (1948–1954), 51.
49. Ibid., 50.
50. Ibid., 51.
du Sud à le Général en Chef les Forces Armées en Extrême-Orient, No. 190,” pre-
pared by Chanson, dated 11 February 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4369.
du Sud à le Général de Corps d’Armée, Commandant en Chef les Forces Armées
en Extrême-Orient, No. 277,” prepared by Chanson, dated 18 February 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H4369.

Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984; Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 307 (1948–
1954), 53.
du Sud à le Général de Corps d’Armée, Commandant en Chef les Forces Armées
en Extrême-Orient, No. 277,” prepared by Chanson, dated 18 February 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H4369.
55. Military intelligence had learned in November 1949 that the coming operations
would be peripheral affairs to precede the main attacks against the center of the
country. “Bulletin de renseignments No. 6,437: activité V.M.—Nam Bo,” prepared
by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2e bureau FFVS, dated 14 November 1949, SHAT,
carton 10H4969.
56. For example, Chanson was being stripped of the use of the company of the BEP.
He was also losing an Algerian unit and a number of Senegalese formations. As
a sop to his concerns the corps authorized him to form more Vietnamese battal-
ions, but these would not be ready for action for some time. “Le Général de Brigade
Chanson, Commandant les Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud à le Général en
Chef les Forces Armées en Extrême-Orient, No. 190,” prepared by Chanson, dated
57. “Traduction d’un document récupéré à Binh Tuc,” prepared by Chef de Btn Berard,
Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS, dated 20 November 1949, SHAT, carton 10H4969.
58. “Traduction d’un document V.M. saisi en opération, traitant des méthodes à
employer pour enlever les tours—quelques methodes à employer dans la destruc-
tion du système de tours ennemi,” Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2ème Bureau,
FFVS, document attributed to Pham Duy Hoang, commander of Zone VII intelli-
gence service, dated 1 October 1949, SHAT carton 10H4969.
59. “Traduction d’un document V.M. emanant du Comité éxécutif et Résistance de la
Province de Giadinh, intitulé ‘Commentaires sur la démarche auprès des ennemis
et des traîtres,’” prepared by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS, doc-
ument attributed to political commissar of Gia Dinh, name unknown, dated 13
February 1950.
60. “Note d’orientation: contre-propagande visant le personnel des ‘Tours,’ prepared by
Lt-Colonel Radix, Chef d’état-Major, FFVS, dated 14 November 1949, SHAT, carton
10H4969.
du Sud à le Colonel Commandant la Zone Ouest,” prepared by Chanson, dated 22
du Sud à le Colonel Commandant la Zone Ouest,” prepared by Chanson, dated 22
65. The Algerian unit to be lost was the 22ème BTA. “Directives pour le Colonel
Commandant la Zone Ouest,” prepared by Chanson, dated 8 February 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H4369. Later Chanson rescinded this, after attacks broke out in Tra Vinh
at the end of March, and placed the 22eme BTA as well as a company of the BEP
at the disposal of Zone Ouest. “Ordre particulier No. 14,” prepared by Général de
Brigade Chanson, Commandant les Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud, dated
29 March 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4462. The II/3ème RTM had only been reformed
in 1948; its motto was “je fonce et je vaincs” (I rush and conquer). Huré, L’armée d’Af-
rique: 1830–1962, 473.
66. This attack in Tra Vinh featured elements from five chu luc battalions: 307, 308, 312,
309, and 310. There were also several regional companies, guerrilla units, and local
militia. Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 307 (1948–1954), 55.
67. Ibid., 55.
68. Ibid., 56.
69. “Bulletin de l’activité militaire en Indochine au cours de la 1ère quinzaine d’avril
1950,” prepared by Col. Domergue, Chef d’État-Major, FAEO, dated 17 April 1950,
Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984; “Bulletin de l’activité mili-
taire en Indochine au cours de la 1ère quinzaine d’avril 1950,” prepared by Col.
Domergue, Chef d’État-Major, FAEO, dated 17 April 1950, SHAT, carton 10H770.
71. “Bulletin de l’activité militaire en Indochine au cours de la 1ère quinzaine d’avril
1950,” prepared by Col. Domergue, Chef d’État-Major, FAEO, dated 17 April 1950,
SHAT, carton 10H770; Lịch Sử Tiểu Đoàn 307 (1948–1954), 56–57.
72. “Stationnement des forces franco-vietnamiennes du sud à la date du 5 Mars 1950,”
prepared by Lt-Colonel Jalenques de Labeau, Chef d’État-Major, FFVS, dated 5
March 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4369.
73. From January to March 1950 the FFVS estimated it had killed nearly 1,500 Viet
Minh combatants. “Fiche sur l’évolution de la situation depuis le 1er Janvier 1950,”
3ème Burea, FFVS, dated March 1950, SHAT, carton 10H906.
74. “Ordre particulier No. 15: transfert du sous-secteur de BATRI aux éléments du
Lieutenant-Colonel des Forces Supplétives LEROY,” signed by Général de Brigade
Chanson, Commandant les Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud, dated 11 April
75. Operations Normandie, and Potager before it, were some of the first French oper-
ations to use helicopters for casualty evacuation. “Bulletin de l’activité militaire
en Indochine au cours de la 2ème quinzaine de Juin 1950,” prepared by Col. de
Brebisson, Chef d’état-Major, FAEO, dated 4 July 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4462;
Brancion, Retour en Indochine du Sud, 228–29.
76. “Note d’orientation No. 725,” prepared by Général de Brigade Chanson,
Commandant les Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud, dated 22 May 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H906.
77. Taylor, A History of the Vietnamese, 553; Goscha, Historical Dictionary of the
Indochina War (1945–1954), 327–28. This is not to say that the French were uncon-
cerned with his American contacts. French intelligence was indeed suspicious of the
“clandestine” contacts Nguyen Phan Long had with Americans. “Analyse: Fiche a/s.
entretien avec G.B. en date du 14 Fevrier 1950, transmis par S.E.H.A.N,” Chef de Btn
Lamberton, Chef du 2e Bureau, FAEO, dated 7 March 1950, SHAT, carton 10H636.
78. Bodard, L’illusion, 328.
80. Bodard, L’illusion, 327–28.

81. “Bulletin de renseignements: activité V.M. dans la region Saigon/Cholon,” pre-
pared by Marcel Bazin, Chef du service français de securité au Sud Vietnam, dated
22 March 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969; “Bulletin de renseignements No. 6,438:
Activité V.M.—Nam Bo,” prepared by Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2ème Bureau,
FFVS, dated 14 November 1949, SHAT carton 10H4969.
82. “Note pour messieurs: le colonel, commandant superieur du Secteur Saigon/
Cholon,” prepared by Marcel Bazin, Contrôleur de la Sûreté, dated 11 February
1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969; “Extrait du bulletin de renseignements no. 259 du
14 Decembre, transmis sous le No. 24619 par le Chef de la Sûreté Federale en
Cochinchine,” prepared by Chef de Btn Girard, Secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 15
83. These positions seem to have been built to give VM units sheltering in them defen-
sive cover should French patrols discover them prior to the attack. “LTC Rousson,
Commandant le Secteur Saigon/Cholon à le Général de Brigade, Commandant les
Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud,” dated 26 November 1949, SHAT, carton
10H4969.
84. “Bulletin de renseignements: activité V.M. au sud de Cholon,” prepared by Chef
de Btn Berard, chef du 2e Bureau FFVS, dated 11 February 1950, SHAT, carton
10H4969.
85. “Note de Service No. 1956—Objet: mesures à prendre en cas de troubles graves,”
3ème Bureau, Secteur Saigon/Cholon, date unreadable, SHAT, carton 10H906.
87. “Situation V.M. dans le secteur Saigon/Cholon à la date du 1er Mars 1950,” prepared
by Lt-Colonel Rousson, commandant le secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 11 March
1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969; “Bulletin de renseignements no. 1788: S.R.O.,” pre-
pared by A. M. Savani, chef du 2ème Bureau, dated 5 April 1950, SHAT carton
10H4970.
88. “Bulletin de renseignements—source: interrogatoire prisonnier V.M.,” prepared
by Capitaine Barthod, Commandant le Quartier V, place Saigon/Cholon, dated 23
June 1949, SHAT, carton 10H4284.
89. “Rapport mensuel du secteur Saigon/Cholon: mois de Fevrier 1950,” prepared by
Lt-Colonel Rousson, commandant le secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 4 March 1950,
SHAT, carton 10H4969; “Rapport mensuel du secteur Saigon/Cholon: mois d’Avril
1950,” prepared by Lt-Colonel Rousson, commandant le secteur Saigon/Cholon,
dated 5 May 1950, SHAT carton 10H4970.
90. “Bulletin de renseignements: semaine du 10 au 18 Mar 1950: secteur Saigon/Cholon,”
prepared by Lt-Colonel Rousson, commandant le secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 17
March 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969; “La pacification du Sud Viet-Nam,” prepared
by Capitaine Menard, État-Major—3e Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton
10H984.
91. “Bulletin de renseignments hebdomadaire: semaine du 18 au 24 Mar 1940—secteur
Saigon/Cholon,” prepared by Lt-Colonel Rousson, commandant le secteur Saigon/
Cholon, dated 24 March 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4969; Bodard, L’illusion, 337–39.
92. “Rapport mensuel du secteur Saigon/Cholon: mois d’avril 1950,” prepared by
Lt-Colonel Rousson, commandant le secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 5 May 1950,

94. Ibid., 346.
95. Ibid., 348–49.
96. “Document rebelle récupéré le 12.12.1950 sur le VAM-SAT. UBRCHC du Nam Bo—
Sce de Cong An Nam Bo—4 Oct 1950,” original document prepared by Nguyen
Van Luu, listed as Chef du Cong An in Saigon/Cholon, French analysis prepared
by Chef de Btn Laty, chef d’État-Major, Secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 27 December
97. “Fiche no. 1493: existence de Comités d’Assassinats,” 2e Bureau, FFVS, unsigned,
dated 30 December 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4284.
98. “Bulletin de resnseignements mensuel—mois de Mai 1950,” prepared by Lt-Colonel
Rousson, le secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 5 June 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4970.
100. “Note à Chef de la Sûreté federale en Cochinchine (subdivision 1),” prepared by
Lieutenant Perron, secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 11 January 1949, SHAT, carton
10H4970.
101. “Bulletin de renseignements No. 2858—Activité militaire Viet Minh—Saigon
Cholon,” prepared by Chef de Btn A. M. Savani, Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS, dated
29 May 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4970.
102. Bodard, L’illusion, 351–52. There was another large capture of Viet Minh agents in
September, reportedly involving the arrest of forty-eight men and the seizure of
a large quantity of explosive material. Report comes from a copy of the journal
Sud-Est Asiatique, no. 16 (Sept 1950), found at NARA, RG 38, Naval Intelligence
Reports, Box 101.
103. “Fiche no. 167—au sujet arrestation de Nguyen Van Chanh, membre de l’inten-
dance de la Zône 7—arrêté par le 2ème Bureau du Secteur Saigon/Cholon le
17.11.1950,” 2e Bureau, Secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 18 November 1950, SHAT, car-
ton 10H4284.
104. “Bulletin de reseignements mensuel—mois de Novembre 1950,” prepared by

Lt-Colonel Blanche, commandant le secteur de Saigon/Cholon, dated 5 December
105. “Bulletin de renseignement No. 5056—Activité militaire V.M.: procès verbal de la
reunion tenue du 12 au 16 Juillet 1950 au Nam Bo,” OSIS, dated 10 August 1950,
106. “La mobilisation generale No. 4938,” prepared by Chef d’Esçadron Boussaire, Chef
du 2ème Bureau, FAEO, dated 16 October 1950, SHAT, carton 10H636.
107. “Indo-China—Coastal and River Operations—30 October 1950 to 5 November
1950,” prepared by CDR R. A. Kotrla, U.S. Naval Attaché, Saigon, dated 15 November
1950, NARA, RG 38, Box 101.
108. “Évolution de la situation militaire en Indochine pendant le mois d’octobre 1950,”
Col. Lennuyeux, s/Chef d’état-Major, FAEO, dated 6 November 1950, NARA, RG
38, Box 101. R. A. Kotrla, U.S. naval attaché in Saigon, dispatched a copy of this
report, untranslated most likely for sake of time, to the Office of Naval Intelligence.
110. The river post at Can Tho was home to eight LCMs (landing craft, mechanized)
each capable of carrying approximately one hundred troops, and four LCVPs
(landing craft, vehicle, personnel) each of which could carry roughly a platoon.
“Intelligence Report—French Naval Forces in Indo China,” prepared by CDR R. A.
Kotrla, U.S. Naval Attaché, Saigon, dated 23 August 1950, NARA, RG 38, Box 46.
111. In this case, raids effected with the aid of the dinassaut seized approximately sixty
tons of rice paddy. “Indo-China—Coastal and River Operations—2 October to 10
October 1950,” prepared by CDR R. A. Kotrla, U.S. Naval Attaché, Saigon, dated 19
October 1950, NARA, RG 38, Box 101.
Bureau, dated 15 Mar 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984.
Col Lennuyeux, s/Chef d’état-Major, FAEO, dated 6 November 1950, NARA, RG 38,
Box 101.
114. “Bulletin de renseignements—Activité Viet Minh—Zone Saigon Cholon: harcelè-
ment des postes français de Giong Ong To et Cat Lai,” prepared by Chef de Btn
Girard, Chef d’état-Major, secteur Saigon/Cholon, dated 5 June 1950, SHAT, carton
10H4970.
115. Once again it is important to note that while bearing the name trung doan, usually
translated as “regiment,” TD 300 was more like a reinforced battalion. “Procès ver-
bal d’interrogatoire du rallié Tran Minh Cang, s/chef du trung doi du Dai Doi 2699
du Trung Doan 300,” secteur Bien Hoa, dated 23 May 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4970.
116. “Bulletin de renseignements—Activités du T.D. 300, Source: S.R.O.,” prepared by
Chef de Btn Berard, Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS, dated 22 February 1950, SHAT,
carton 10H4969.
Bureau, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, carton 10H984 the defenders were elements of
3e RTA and 43e RIC; “Stationnement détaillé, Sous-Secteur de Ben Cat, Quartier
de Ben Suc,” 25 November 1950, SHAT, carton 10H4514; “Articulation des troupes
du sous-secteur de Ben Cat: situation au 1er Août 1950,” FFVS, Zone Est, Secteur
Thudaumot, s/secteur Ben Cat, SHAT, carton 10H4514.
118. “Indo-China—Coastal and Riverine Operations—30 October 1950 to 5 November
1950,” prepared by CDR R. A. Kotrla, U.S. Naval Attaché, Saigon, dated 15 November
1950, NARA, RG 38, Box 101.
119. These raids included Operations Detective (10–11 October), Rossi (12 October),
Albatros, and Maurice (15–19 Oct), in addition to numerous smaller actions carried
out through the end of the month. “Indo-China—Coastal and River Operations—15
October to 22 October 1950,” prepared by CDR R. A. Kotrla, U.S. Naval Attaché,
Saigon, dated 8 November 1950, NARA, RG 38, Box 101; “Évolution de la situa-
tion militaire en Indochine pendant le mois d’octobre 1950,” Col Lennuyeux, s/Chef
d’état-Major, FAEO, dated 6 November 1950, NARA, RG 38, Box 101.
120. “Note sur l’activité militaire V.M.,” Direction générale de la documentation, dated
17 November 1950, SHAT, carton 10H3746.
121. “Le Haut-Commissaire de France en Indochine à le Général Chanson, Commandant
les Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud,” prepared by L. Pignon, dated 7 October
Col Lennuyeux, s/Chef d’état-Major, FAEO, dated 6 November 1950, NARA, RG 38,
Box 101.
123. “Note: préparatifs vietminh en vue d’une action d’envergue dirigée contre le region
Saigon/Cholon, dans le cadre de la contre-offensive générale,” prepared by A.
Moret, chef du Service de securité du Haut Commissariat au Sud Vietnam, dated 5
124. “Directive No. 9,” prepared by Général de Brigade Chanson, Commandant les
Forces Franco-Vietnamiennes du Sud, dated 26 December 1950, SHAT, carton
10H3746.
125. “Général de Brigade Chanson à le Général d’Armée, Haut-Commissaire de France
en Indochine et Commandant en Chef,” prepared by Chanson, dated 18 January
126. “Note de Service No. 37/EMIFT—Objet: organes de Commandement Opérationnels
des F.F.V.S.,” prepared by Colonel Allard, Chef de l’État-Major Interarmées et des
Forces Terrestres, dated 9 January 1951, SHAT, carton 10H906.
128. “Instruction personnelle & secrete pour les Colonels Commandants de Zone,” pre-
pared by Général de Brigade Chanson, Commandant les Forces Terrestres du Sud
Vietnam, dated 25 May 1951, SHAT, carton 10H906.
129. “Note No. 11360—projet de depart de Nguyen Binh pour le Tonkin,” prepared by A.
Moret, Chef du service de securité du Haut-Commissariat au Sud Vietnam, dated
29 June 1951, SHAT, carton 10H4005; an informer told French intelligence Binh had
been recalled for “moral improvement,” “Bulletin de renseignements No. 3870,”
unsigned, dated 12 October 1951, SHAT, carton 10H4005; yet another informer
claimed Binh was assassinated on orders of the central government because of his
“intransigent” nationalism, “Bulletin de renseignements No. 3903,” unsigned, dated
15 October 1951, SHAT, carton 10H4005.
130. “Note d’information sur les forces armée rebelles: pourquoi Nguyen-Binh a perdu
la confiance,” 2e Bureau, section indochine, Etat-Major interarmées et des forces
terrestres, dated 5 June 1952, SHAT, carton 10H621.
131. Ibid.
132. “Bilan de l’année 1952,” prepared by Chef de Btn A. M. Savani, Chef du 2ème
Bureau, FFVS, dated 5 February 1953.
133. “Carnet de route de Nguyen Binh destine à sa femme Thanh—documents récupérés
à Tanot le 30 October 1951,” 2ème Bureau, SHAT, carton 10H636.
134. “Rapport,” prepared by Florian Birouste, Chef des Laboratoires & Service d’Iden-
tité, dated 20 December 1950, SHAT, carton 10H636; “Extrait des sommiers judici-
aires—Nguyen Phuong Thao,” Florian Birouste, Chef des Laboratories & Services
d’Identité. Dated 21 December 1951, SHAT, carton 10H636.
Conclusion
1. “Compte-rendu de l’enquête à Saigon par le Commissaire-adjoint Le Person du
Service de Securité au Sud Vietnam, au sujet de l’attentat commis le 31 Juillet 1951
à Sadec contre le Général Chanson et le Gouverneur Thai Lap Thanh,” Service de
Securité du Haut Commissariat au Sud Vietnam, dated 31 August 1951, SHAT, car-
ton 10H3749.
2. “Compte-rendu de l’enquête effectuée à Sadec par le Commisaire-adjoint Le
Person du Service de Securité H.C.F. du Sud Vietnam, au sujet de l’attentat commis
le 31 Juillet 1951 sur les personnes du Général Chanson et du Gouverneur Thai

lap Thanh,” Service de Securité du Haut Commissariat au Sud Vietnam, dated 15
September 1951, SHAT, carton 10H3749.
3. French intelligence a year later received reports that Cao Dai staff officers in Tay
Ninh had arranged for the removal of the assassin’s family from the Sa Dec region
to Tay Ninh, where they were warmly received. “Bulletin de renseignments—
Source: S.R.O.—Affaire: assassinat du Gen. Chanson,” prepared by A. M. Savani,
Chef de Btn, Chef du 2ème Bureau, FFVS, dated 10 August 1952, SHAT, carton
10H3749.
4. “Extraits de le Radio V.M. concernant l’attentat de Sadec,” SHAT, carton 10H3749.
5. De Lattre quoted in Guillet, Pour L’honneur, 118.
6. “L’armée française perd en vous l’un de ses plus jeunes chefs sur lesquels elle pou-
vait fonder de grands espoirs: discours de M. Letourneau aux Invalides,” newspa-
per clipping, 22 August 1951, author unlisted, SHAT, carton 10H3749.
7. “La pacification du Sud Viet-nam, Février 1946—Février 1954,” prepared by
Capitaine Menard of the 3ème Bureau, FTSV, dated 15 March 1954, SHAT, 10H984.
8. Chapman, Cauldron of Resistance, 104–10.
9. Ibid., 75–76.
10. Ibid., 118–119.
11. The tension that has perpetually existed between continental and colonial secu-
rity concerns is neatly bound up in the old French maxim: “Les brumes du fleuve
Rouge ne doivent pas masquer la ligne blue des Vosges” (The mists of the Red River
must not obscure the blue line of the Vosges), quoted in Montagnon, Histoire de
l’Armée française, 192.
12. Simon, Administrative Behavior, 117.
13. Gray, Strategy for Chaos, 98.
14. Ibid., 93.
15. Alan Beyerchen has impressed upon me the immense utility of the map as a cogni-
tive metaphor.
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Archival Sources
Service historique de l’Armée de Terre (SHAT), Vincennes, France
Série 10H Outre-mer, Indochine
Série 15H Centre militaire d’information et de documentation sur l’outre-mer
National Archive and Records Administration (NARA)
Record Group 38
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Index
Page numbers in italics refer to illustrative matter.
Abrams, Creighton, 188n20 Bigeard, Marcel, 39, 199n123

Achard, James, 162 Bình Nguyễn: appointment of, 222n103;
Affaire Boudarel, 191n71 battalions and defense formations
Alessandri, Marcel, 7, 29, 196n54 of, 129–39, 140, 141, 220n83; Bình
Algeria, French campaign in, 15, 86, Xuyên and, 112–13; Communist
195n27, 218n20 forces and, 66, 68; death of, 5, 174,
Algerian troops in Indochina War, 57–58, 187n17; description of, 68, 147; Giap’s
213n68 1948 orders for, 220n79; northern
American military: campaign in North strategy by, 68, 127; overview of
Africa, 85; criticisms of French campaigns of, 4–5, 95; as Poulo
military campaign, 41–42, 143, Condore prisoner, 66; Saigon
200n138; relations with communist terrorist campaign by, 8, 69, 130–33,
Soviet Union, 102; support of French 146, 189n36; southern strategy by, 8,
military campaign, 32, 33, 34–35; 68–69, 75–76, 108–9. See also Viet
Tokyo firebombing by, 58; war in Minh
Vietnam, 5, 15, 119–20, 188n20, Bình Xuyên: antiterrorism team of, 168;
199n115 military organization of, 52–53, 74,
Annam: Confucianism in, 46; French 200n12, 202n2, 205n37; pivotal role
control of, 81–82; nationalist of, 8, 46; relations with Viet Minh,
ideology in, 123–24 74, 112–13, 127–28; Saigon removal
Aron, Raymond, 102 of, 176–77
assassinations, 131; by Binh’s troops, 69, Black River campaign, 7, 39
72, 166–67; of French officers, 175, Blaizot, Roger: as commander, 27, 29,
190n60 98, 181; criticism of Latour’s tactics,
Auriol, Vincent, 34 212n66; RC 4 strategy of, 196nn53–
55; Tonkin offensives of, 28–29
Bac-sa-ma temple, 155–57, 156, 159 Blum, Léon, 22
Ba Cụt, 48 boars and boar hunting, 3, 187n1
Ba Dương, 52 Bodard, Lucien, 9, 55, 105, 167, 191n69
Bao Dai, 165–66, 167; French’s “solution” Bollaert, Émile, 26
for unification with, 26, 101–2, 113, Bondis, Paul-Louis, 182
142, 151; loyalty to, 112, 113; national Brigade marine d’Extrême-Orient
army of, 111 (BMEO), 155, 209n108, 211n39,
Bảy Viễn: French negotiations of, 112–13, 227n40
216n138, 216n140; as leader of Bình British occupation of Vietnam, 59–60,
Xuyên, 52–53 203n10
Bazin, Marcel, 167 Buddhism, 46, 47
Beaufre, André, 24–25, 213n84 Bửu Sơn Kỳ Hương, 47–48
Ben Tre, 151, 157, 165, 172
Bergerol, Pierre, 149, 151, 226n17 Cách Đánh Du Kích (Hồ), 127
245
246 index
Cambodia: French troops in, 98, 212n49; Chowgarh Tigers, 187n6

Mekong River, 53–55; relations with chu loc regiments, 138–39, 140
Viet Minh, 118, 145, 170, 216n128; Cité Hérault massacre, 62
sovereignty of, 199n112 Clausewitz, Carl von, 16, 32, 192n85
canal system, 55 Cluzet, Colonel, 77, 78, 80, 81
Can Gioc, 86–87 Cochinchina: administrative control
Cao Bang, 6, 31, 146 of, 51, 58–60, 200nn4–5, 203n7; as
Cao Đài (organization): desertions of, independent Republic, 19, 61, 70, 74;
162; founder of, 201n33; ideology land of, 53–56; people of, 45–53
and structure of, 49–51, 201n34; Cochinchina, war for, 57–82; French
military organization of, 51–52, regional zones of, 47, 54, 189n41;
189n38, 200n12; pivotal role of, initial French attacks in, 63–65;
8; relations with French military, initial strategy of Viet Minh, 10–13,
73–74; relations with Viet Minh, 73, 18, 57–58, 62–63; overview of French
112, 127–28 strategy, 8–10, 18, 23, 177–79. See also
Cao Đài Tiên Ông Đại Bồ Tát Ma Ha Tát Saigon; specific operations
(deity), 50 Collins, Lawton, 176
Carpentier, Marcel Maurice, 30, 31, 32, commandos de choc, 209n108
171, 172 commandos de débarquement, 209n108
Castries, Christian de, 44 Communism: Aron on, 102; Bao
Catholics, 53, 60, 73, 151, 202n44 Dai solution and, 26, 101–2;
Cau Ke campaign, 153–59, 157, 158 counteroffensive strategy and, 122–
Cédile, Jean Marie, 61, 62, 204n20 23, 166–68; historical censorship
Ceylon, 59 and, 14; Indochinese Communist
Chanson, Charles-Marie Ferréol, 148; Party (ICP), 21, 60, 66, 126–27;
assassination of, 175, 190n60; postwar stability of, 177–78; Viet
description of, 9, 147; losses of, Minh’s strict adherence to, 119. See
189n47, 190n55; pivotal role of, 9, also Marxist-Leninist ideology
10; southern strategy by, 10–11, 148– Communist forces: Binh and, 8, 66; in
49, 172–73; on Tonkin air supply, France, 23, 27; relations with Hòa
196n53; use of independent units Hảo, 63; slogans of, 10; southern
by, 149–50, 189n43, 189n48; Zone insurgency by, 5, 7; success in China
Center strategy of, 9–10, 150–52, of, 143; Western belief on strategy of,
190n56 119–20. See also Chinese military;
Charton, Pierre, 31–32 guerrilla war strategy (Mao); Viet
Chiêu Ngô Minh, 50, 201n32 Minh
Chinese civilians in Vietnam, complexity science, 17, 188n19, 193n93
226nn27–28 Confucianism, 46
Chinese military: attacks on Korea, 32, conscription, 199n115
121–22; Mao’s guerrilla war strategy, Constans, Louis, 32
11–12, 116–27, 145, 198n103, 217n4, Corbett, Jim, 187n6
224n127; support and training of Corps expéditionnaire français en
Viet Minh, 27, 30, 117–18, 197n64; Extrême-Orient (CEFEO), 8–10
victory of, 143–44. See also Mao Corps léger d’intervention (CLI), 59,
Zedong; People’s Republic of China 203n10
Chinese rice trade, 202n52 Corsican troops in Indochina War,
Chong-No watchtower, 157 203n10
index 247
counteroffensive strategy (tổng phản Forces françaises du Viet-nam du Sud

công), 127–33, 142, 144–45. See also (FFVS), 147, 182. See also Chanson,
guerrilla war strategy (Mao) Charles-Marie Ferréol
Cường Để, 51, 201n35 Forces terrestres d’Extrême-Orient
currency, 109, 198n96 (FTEO), 28
Forces terrestres du Nord Viet-nam
Đại Việt Party, 26, 195n38 (FTNV), 27, 195n43
D’Argenlieu, Theirry, 23, 69, 77 Fourcade, Marie-Madeleine, 211n34
dau tranh (term), 223n126 French Fourth Republic: casualty
Davidson, Philip, 195n35 demographics of, 37–38;
Đáy River battle, 34 constitutional control of, 194n14;
Debès, Jean, 21–22, 194n13 support of Indochina War by, 22–23,
De Gaulle, Charles: Algerian withdrawal 28, 34
by, 86; appointments of, 193n1; on French military: 1880s Tonkin strategy
colonial empire control, 59, 194n16; of, 196n59; acronyms of, 183; in
retirement of, 22. See also French Algeria, 15, 86, 195n27, 218n20;
Fourth Republic Algerian troops in Indochina
DeGrace, Peter, 17 War, 57–58, 213n68; American
De Lattre de Tassigny, Jean, 7, 32–36, criticism of, 41–42, 143, 200n138;
198n100 American support of, 32, 33, 34–35;
Democratic Republic of Vietnam, 13, 69 armament of, 149, 218n11; Cao
Diệm Ngô Đình, 176–77 Đài coalition with, 73–74; Cau Ke
Dien Bien Phu, 15, 42–44 campaign and, 153–62, 157, 158;
dinassaut squadrons: about, 9, 80–81, Cochinchina pacification strategy
195n33, 209n108; operations by, 29, of, 77–82, 98; Fourth Republic
34, 39, 110, 111, 170, 171 support of Indochina War, 22–23,
Đôn Châu battle, 159–60, 163 28, 34; historical record of, 13–14;
Đông Khê battle, 30–32, 170, 197n66 indigenous troops in, 72–73, 143;
Durand, Aimé, 74 initial attacks in Cochinchina,
57–58, 63–66; Laos strategy of, 41,
economic theory, 99–101, 179–80, 213n84, 42, 198n104, 199n113; losses of, 36,
213nn77–80 80, 97; maquis, 38–39, 178, 199n121;
economic warfare. See food supply, in Morocco, 71, 84, 91; negotiations
control of with Bảy Viễn, 216n138, 216n140;
Eisenhower, Dwight, 99, 200n138 overview of northern strategy, 5–8,
Ély, Paul, 199n128 18, 21–22, 177–79, 203n12; overview
espionage, 132, 139 of southern strategy, 8–10, 18, 177–
European armies, diversity of, 218n26 79; poisonings of, 132, 221n87; RC
export/import trade: opium, 39, 199n113; 4 strategy of, 146, 171, 196nn53–
rubber, 56. See also rice 55; reinforcement squads for,
207n88; resource control by, 105–
Fall, Bernard, 38 8; zone strategies of, 9–10, 47, 54,
Flottille amphibie Indochine Sud, 227n40 79, 189n41, 190n56, 226n31. See also
FM 3–24: Tactics in Counterinsurgency specific forces; specific leaders; specific
(Galula), 14–15 operation names
food supply, control of, 10, 12, 105–6, 142, Friedman, Norman, 115
190n52. See also rice frontier theory, 45–46
248 index
Galula, David, 14–15 Hòa Hảo: French alliance of, 97–98;

Garde républicaine de Cochinchine ideology of, 47–48, 81; military
(formerly Garde Civile), 76–77 organization of, 48–49, 189n38,
Gardet, Roger, 182 200n12; pivotal role of, 8, 46;
gaurs and gaur hunting, 187n9 relations with Viet Minh, 63, 112
Gerlotto, Chef d’Escadron, 57, 202n2 Hoàng Nguyen, 45
Giap Vo Nguyen, 6; 1946 December Hoàng Quốc Việt, 60, 62–63
Hanoi attacks, 20; Binh’s 1948 orders Hồ Chí Minh: Cách Đánh Du Kích
by, 220n79; Black River campaign of, (Guerrilla Tactics), 127; Chinese
7, 39; Laos strategy of, 37, 40, 42; near alliances of, 196n57; near capture
capture of, 6, 91–92; RC 4 strategy of, 6, 92; negotiations of, 21, 74–75;
of, 170; on reunification, 216n137; training and ideology of, 124; victory
Tonkin attacks of, 29, 33–34, 36, 144– declarations of, 144
45; use of Mao’s strategy, 127, 198n103 howitzer, 118, 218n11
Giàu Trần Văn, 58, 59, 61 Huard, Paul, 59
Gilles, Jean, 40, 199n121 Hue-Tam Ho Tai, 45–46
Go Cong, 65, 86, 105, 107, 110 hunting, 3–4, 187n1, 187n6, 187n9
Goscha, Christopher, 66, 130 Hữu Trần Văn, 167
Gracey, Douglas, 59, 60–61 hybrid war theory, 15–16, 192n83
Grandmaison, Louis de, 20–21
Gray, Colin, 180 Indochinese Communist Party (ICP), 21,
Graziani, Rodolfo, 103 60, 66, 126–27. See also Communism
Grey Tiger, 60, 62–63 irregulars (military units), 15, 210n8
Groupement de commandos mixtes
aéroportés (GCMA), 15 Jacquet, Marc, 42
Groupement Massu, 64–65 Japanese military: control of rice by, 49;
Guerrilla Tactics (Hồ), 127 support and training of Viet Minh
guerrilla war strategy (Mao), 11–12, 116– by, 63, 204n22; in Viet Minh ranks,
27, 145, 198n103, 217n4, 224n127. See 137, 189n36
also counteroffensive strategy (tổng Japanese occupation of Vietnam, 51,
phản công); Mao Zedong 58–59, 203nn5–6
Guillet, Pierre, 147 Juin, Alphonse, 20
Gulf of Tonkin, 43. See also Tonkin, war
of Kha Ly, 42, 44
Khmer population of southern Vietnam,
Hạ Bá Cang, 60, 62–63 45, 153, 155, 227n36
Haiphong, 21–22, 70. See also Tonkin, Korea, 32, 121–22
war of Ký Tô, 63
Hanoi, 20–23, 70. See also Tonkin, war of
Heaven and Earth societies, 52 Lang Son, 32, 42
High Waters Offensive, 170 Laos: Giap’s strategy for, 37, 40, 42;
historical war record: censorship of, Navarre’s strategy for, 41, 42; opium
117, 144, 194n3; of France, 13–14, trade of, 199n113; Salan on, 198n104;
117, 190n51, 191n69, 192n73; of sovereignty of, 199n112
Vietnamese government, 14, 117 Latour, Pierre Boyer de: background of,
Hòa Bình campaign, 35–36, 37, 198n111 83, 84–85; on Bao Dai solution, 101–
Hoach Le Van, 82 2; Chanson and, 152; as commander,
index 249
32, 151; fractured resources and Morocco, 71, 84, 91

enemy bands of, 98–100, 215n126; My Tho campaign, 64–65
on French colonialism, 85–86,
104; Operation Jonquille, 110–11; Nam Bộ (Southern Committee), 5, 95–96,
Operation Vega, 9–10, 92–97; pivotal 113, 204n36, 205n37; defense forces
role of, 9, 189n37; southern strategy of, 129–30, 134–39, 140, 141. See also
of, 88–92, 109–15, 142 Viet Minh
Leclerc de Hauteclocque, Philippe Nam Bo Chi Doi, 129
François: on armament, 193n1; Nam Bo Trung Doan, 135
BMEO and, 227n40; as CEFEO Nam Kỳ. See Cochinchina
commander, 8, 127; on independent Na San campaign, 39–40, 199n131
Cochinchina, 69; initial nationalism, 68, 119, 123–24
Cochinchina strategy of, 63–65. See Navarre, Henri, 41–42, 188n30
also Corps expéditionnaire français Ngam Li Thi, 48–49
en Extrême-Orient (CEFEO) Nghệ Huỳnh Văn, 96
Lê Duẩn, 12, 75, 119–21, 133, 142, 222n100 Nghia Lo battle, 38
Lenin, Vladimir. See Marxist-Leninist Nguyen Am, 44
ideology Nguyen Duc Thuy, 127
Leroy, Jean, 88–89, 111, 164 Nguyễn Giác Ngộ, 48
liên trung đoàn (LTD), 138–39 Nguyên Lâm ành, 48
Liệu Trần Huy, 69 Nguyen Lien-Hang, 12, 119, 120–21
Linh Le Van, 169 Nguyen Van Tay, 127
Lyauteu, Herbert, 85, 210n14 Nguyễn Văn Thanh, 51–52
Ninh Tay, 74
MAAG (U.S. Military Assistance North Vietnamese Army (NVA), 15
Advisory Group), 143 Nyo, Georges Yves, 71–82, 148, 150,
Mandelbrot, Benoît, 213n72 195nn24–25, 209n116
Mao Zedong, 118, 122, 192n84. See also
guerrilla war strategy (Mao) O’Daniel, John, 41–42
maquis, 38–39, 178, 199n121 On Strategy (Summer), 119
Marie, André, 27–28 Operation Ceinture, 6, 25, 195n35
Marxist-Leninist ideology: Binh on, Operation Gaur, 8, 187n9
143; Hồ Chí Minh and, 124; on Operation Georges, 24
individual action and proletariat Operation Hirondelle, 42
uprisings, 124–26; Vietnamese Operation Jonquille, 110–11
nationalism and, 68, 119, 124, 144. Operation Lea, 6, 24–26, 82, 83, 91, 195n35
See also Communism Operation Lorraine, 7, 39–40
Mayer, René, 41, 188n30 Operation Lotus, 36
Mekong River delta, 53–55 Operation Mandarine, 35, 172
Mendès-France, Pierre, 34 Operation Mangoustan, 172
Méo tribe, 39 Operation Méduse, 35
Méric, Édouard, 89–91, 99–100, 179, Operation Moussac, 8
211n34 Operation Normandie, 165
Mien Dong region, 55–56 Operation Ondine, 29
Minh Dương Văn, 150 Operation Pamplemousse, 172
monetary exchange, 109, 198n96 Operation Papillon, 24
Morlière, Louis, 20, 22, 194n18 Operation Pégase, 29
250 index
Operation Reptile, 35 revolutionary warfare. See guerrilla war

Operation Sapotille, 172 strategy (Mao)
Operation Sirene, 29 rice: food supply control of, 10, 12, 105–
Opérations Militaires au Tonkin 6, 142, 152, 190n52; production and
(Chabord), 150 trade, 49, 55, 106–8, 202n52
Operation Thérèse, 31 rubber, 56
Operation Tourbillon, 173
Operation Vega, 9–10, 92–97 sabotage tactics, 133–34, 142
opium trade, 39, 199n113 Saigon: Bình Nguyễn’s terrorist campaign
Organisation de l’armée secrète (OAS), 15 in, 8, 69, 130–33, 146, 189n36; Bình
Xuyên organization, 8, 46, 52–53,
Peng Dehaui, 121–22 177, 200n12; British control of, 59–61;
People’s Republic of China, 196n57. See French control of, 58, 61
also under Chinese; Mao Zedong Saigon-Cho Lon (công an), 131–33, 222n96
Phạm Văn Bạch (Central Committee), Sairigné, Gabriel Brunet de, 92–95, 96
108 Salan, Raoul Albin Louis: on Laos,
Phan Long Nguyễn, 165–66 198n104, 199n122; northern strategy
Phat Tran Tan, 73 of, 36–41; Operation Lea, 91–92;
Pignon, Léon, 27, 196n55 Operation Lorraine, 7, 39–40;
Pike, Douglas, 120, 125, 142, 191n65 southern strategy of, 83, 91–92
Plain of Reeds: French control of, 142; Sarraut, Omer, 4, 187n9
geography of, 54; as Viet Minh base, Savani, A. M., 54, 216n140
54, 57, 62–63, 95–96, 217n3 Savary, Alain, 116
poisonings, 132, 221n87 Schuman, Robert, 27
Politik (concept), 16 Simon, Herbert A., 18, 100–101, 103,
polylogism, 218n27 179–80
Ponchardier, Pierre, 59, 65, 203n11 Soái Trần Văn, 48, 49, 98
Porch, Douglas, 7, 104 Soc Trang campaign, 163–64
Potsdam Conference (1945), 59 Sổ Huỳnh Phú, 47–48, 49, 81
Poulo Condore prison, 58, 60, 66 Soviet Union, 102, 124–25
prisoners: abandonment of, 97; Binh as, Soyinka, Wole, 130
66; interrogations of, 95, 203n6; starvation, 10, 12, 105–6, 152, 190n52
release of, 58, 60, 158, 166, 203n5 strategy, definition of, 16, 18, 192n86,
prisons: Binh’s prison camps, 92, 191n71; 193n87, 193nn97–98
British control of, 61
Tắc Phạm Công, 51, 73, 162, 201n34
Quang Ngai, 5, 188n18 Tâm Nguyễn Văn, 167–68
Taoism, 46
Ramadier, Paul, 29 terrorism: Binh’s campaign in Saigon, 8,
Red Army. See Chinese military 69, 130–33, 146, 189n36; definition of,
Redon, Paul, 104–5 130; effects of, 70; Japanese soldiers
Red River campaign, 28–30, 144 and, 189n36; OAS campaign in
“Red Sûreté,” 131–32, 145 France of, 15
religion, 46 Têt Offensive, 12, 119–20
Republic of Cochinchina, 19, 61, 70, 74. Thailand, 108
See also Cochinchina Thảo Nguyễn Phương. See Bình Nguyễn
Revers, Georges, 29 Thâu Tạ Thu, 73
index 251
Theravada Buddhism, 46, 47 unification: French’s “Bao Dai solution,”

Thierry d’Argenlieu, Georges, 21 26, 101–2, 113, 151; official process
Thịnh Nguyễn Văn, 69–70 of, 217n146; Viet Minh on, 112–13,
tigers and tiger hunting, 3–4, 187n6 216n137
Tonkin, war of, 20–44; Haiphong battles, U.S. military. See American military
21–22, 36; initial attacks in, 20,
22–24; overview of, 5–8, 12–13, 18, Valluy, Jean Étienne: Cochinchina
177–79; prelude to, 20–22; Red River strategy of, 76–77, 81–82; Hanoi
campaign, 28–30. See also Haiphong; capture by, 21–23; Operation Lea, 6,
Hanoi; specific operations 24–26, 82, 83, 91; overall strategy of,
Torel, Albert, 81 6, 23, 188n21
torture, 167 Vanguard Youth, 52–53, 58
trade. See export/import trade Văn Kiện Đảng, 14
Trapnell, Thomas, 143 Vanuxem, Paul, 33
Tra Tran Van, 169 Viet Cong, 120
Tra Vinh, 5, 154; battles of, 159–64, 170, Viet Minh: armament of, 118, 138, 165,
190n58, 227n37, 228n65, 229n66; 171, 204n36, 223n117; battalions and
Cambodians in, 216n128; French defense formations of, 129–39, 140,
base in, 145, 153, 160, 172; Viet Minh 141, 220n83; Cau Ke campaign and,
command of, 163, 216n128 155–62, 157, 158; Chinese military
Tricoire, Father, 60 support and training of, 27, 30, 117–
Trinquier, Roger, 15 18, 197n64; chu loc regiments, 138–
Trotskyites, 49, 59, 62, 63, 73 39, 140; counteroffensive strategy
troupes de marine, 211n39 of, 127–33, 142–45; dispositions of
Troupes françaises de l’Indochine du 1945–1946, 67; espionage of, 132;
Nord (TFIN), 25, 195n43 food supply control and, 10, 142,
Troupes françaises de l’Indochine du Sud 190n52; historical record of, 14, 117;
(TFIS): 1946 territorial organization Indochinese Communist Party, 21,
of, 70–72, 104–5, 205n53; 1947 60, 66, 126–27; initial failure of,
evacuations of, 57–58, 72, 79, 87; 65–66; Japanese military support
designations of, 195n43; list of of, 63, 204n22; Japanese soldiers in,
commanders of, 182; losses of, 76; 137, 189n36; losses of, 25, 76, 160,
Operation Vega, 92–95; regulation of 194n13, 207n73, 216n127; Mao’s
resources and items by, 108, 214n110, guerrilla war strategy and, 11–12,
215n112. See also French military 116–27, 198n103, 217n4; near capture
Troupes françaises d’Extrême-Orient of leadership of, 6, 91–92; northern
(TFEO), 29–32, 37; support requests control and strategy of, 21; Phạm
of, 206n59; territorial organization Văn Bạch (Central Committee), 108;
of, 205n53 Plain of Reeds base of, 54, 57, 62–63,
Truman, Harry, 34, 193n1 95–96; provisions provided for,
trung doan regiments, 135, 136–39, 141, 138, 223n119; purification campaign
144, 222n105 of, 113; pyramidal structure of
Trung Đoàn Tay Do, 139 organization, 134, 134–35; relations
Trung Lê Văn, 51 with Bình Xuyên, 74, 112–13, 127–28;
Trường Chinh, 126 relations with Cambodia, 216n128;
relations with Cao Đài, 73, 112;
U Minh Forest, 55 relations with Hòa Hảo, 63, 112;
252 index
Viet Minh (continued)

response to Operation Vega, 95–97; Westmoreland, William, 188n20
revenue sources of, 138, 214n107; Whampoa Military Academy, 66, 136
Saigon-Cho Lon (công an), 131–
33, 222n96; southern control and Xuân Mai Hữu, 167, 169
strategy of, 10–13, 18, 57–58, 62–63,
146; terms for units of, 201n37; trung Zhou Enlai, 127
doan regiments, 135, 136–39, 141, 144, Zhu De, 127
222n105; zone strategies of, 127–29, Zone Center: command and strategy
136, 173. See also Nam Bộ (Southern of, 9–10, 110, 150–52, 190n56;
Committee); specific leaders; specific establishment of, 202n48, 208n92;
operations geography of, 47, 54, 79, 189n41;
Việt Nam Độc Lập Đồng Minh Hội. See mass migrations to, 111
Viet Minh Zone East: establishment and
Vietnamese National Army (VNA), 41, organization of, 99, 105, 202n48;
42, 44 geography of, 47, 79
Vietnamese Nationalist Party (Việt Nam Zone West, 77–80; 1950 organization of,
Quốc Dân Đảng), 66 162; establishment and organization
Vinh Lê Quang, 48 of, 104–5, 202n48, 208n95;
Vinh Trần Quang, 51 geography of, 47; mass migrations
Viollette, Maurice, 23 from, 111
VNQDD. See Vietnamese Nationalist
Party (Việt Nam Quốc Dân Đảng)
Vũ Đức, 128

In The Year of The Tiger - The War For Cochinchina, 1945-1951

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In The Year of The Tiger - The War For Cochinchina, 1945-1951

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CAMPAIGNS AND COMMANDERS

William M. Waddell III

Name: Waddell, William M., 1979– author.

Interior layout and composition: Alcorn Publication Design

Appendix A. Commanders of the CEFEO 181

Layout and fields of fire of main post 106

Nam Bo Chi Doi, 1945–1946 129

Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations expressed or implied within are

control of Saigon, the French Corps expéditionnaire français en Extrême-Orient

two remarkable figures, Colonel Charles-Marie Chanson and General Pierre

As mentioned above, Nguyen Binh’s attempt at launching the “general

counter-offensive.” During this last stage, inaugurated by the correct identifica-

soon in a great bataille rangée (pitched battle), so to speak. It is a mix of propa-

American counterinsurgency doctrine has its fons et origo in an ultimately

Interestingly then, the Tonkin-based desire for a resolution to the conflict

In Cochinchina, the French were disabused of optimal solutions early on.

“Les armes parleront . . .”

frontier was defeated on political grounds. Blaizot’s operational commander

de Lattre de Tassigny. Supremely confident in his own abilities, de Lattre quite

One cannot entirely discount another motive—revenge. At the Battle of the

The phased withdrawal of units along with selected attacks in Operation

A “Land for Heroes”

Thu Dau Mot Bien Hoa

of all-female soldiers. Dressed in black, they carried all manner of instruments

C hef d’Escadron Gerlotto, commander in the Tân An quarter, gathered

Dai, the remaining Trotskyites, the Association of Intellectuals, and so forth—

This arrangement, however, made France a subsidiary of British action in

By March/April of 1946 the corps expéditionnaire had at least nominally

within Marxist-Leninist thought than it is with any species of more parochial

Zone 2/2 RTA

Zone West Régiment de tirailleurs marocains

Troupes Françaises de l’Indochine du Sud (TFIS) evacuations, 1947. Map by William

positions was constant; beyond more conventional attacks, on multiple occa-

(Mobile Units for the Defense of Christendom) or UMDC.30 Whatever their

on map-oriented artillery batteries. Radio problems greatly handicapped avia-

dissenters, who objected to the French-sponsored leadership of Tran Van

entrepreneurial spirit as an important aspect of success for the French officer.

bourgeoisie of Saigon and irrevocably committed the French to the defeat of

Layout and fields of fire of main post. “Le Poste,” printed by

The smaller dots are guard

As with Vega, though more quickly executed, paratroopers dropped on

resumed aggression against the Communists.133 The vagaries of sect politics

“All for the General

goes—America was unable to defeat the Communist forces in Vietnam because

thought. Both ideas—obviously the former nested within the latter—provide

Location and Affiliation of Nam Bo Chi Doi, 1945–1946

had a number of subordinate structures: the first was an investigation commit-

Popular forces (self-defense

Viet Minh military organization. Diagram created by the author.

Nam Bo Trung Doan, 1947

DD 939 DD 940 DD 941

Service de Recherche Intendance

Tieu Doan Battalion Tieu Doan Battalion Tieu Doan Battalion

3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td 3Td

DD réservistes DD réservistes DD réservistes

Deprived of access to the lucrative center of Cochinchina where in relative

In most every way imaginable Général de Brigade Charles-Marie Ferréol

But appearances are often misleading. Upon his arrival in Cochinchina

In military terms Zone Center under Chanson hummed with activity.31

Tra Vinh (Trà Vinh)

Phong Phú Bac-sa-ma Hiep Hoa

Tra Cu Nhi Truong

Soc Trang (Sóc Trăng)

at Phong Phu was covered in thick vegetation, affording excellent concealment.

responsibility for holding Ben Tre, Chanson’s hand-picked successor in Zone