Giap: The General Who Defeated America in Vietnam (15 page)

Giap plainly had a great deal to learn about conventional big-unit operations. Nonetheless, we see in the unfolding of the battle signs of promise and nascent capabilities that foreshadowed later successes. Giap had moved two divisions from the Viet Bac to the edge of the Delta without detection. It had taken about two million man-days for the PAVN’s porters to position 5,000 tons of ammunition, food, and equipment into place along the line of march. The painstaking efforts Giap had made to develop the army’s ability to camouflage the movement of large units, and to pre-position supplies in anticipation of combat were vindicated. These qualities would be hallmarks of PAVN operations for the next twenty-five years. Moreover, the initial scheme of maneuver had worked very well. Unfortunately, Giap had failed to capitalize on his initial success, probably because of failures in his command and control apparatus, which remained limited by the paucity of signal equipment and knowledgeable radio operators.

Chastened by his first defeat, Giap resolved to try another penetration of the De Lattre line. This time he attacked from the northeast at Mao Khe, which lay astride the northern approaches to valuable coal mines and to Haiphong, about twenty miles from the port. At 0400 hours on March 27, the artillery of the 316th laid down a heavy barrage squarely on the FEF positions protecting the mine and its ninety-five defenders. Two regimental-size assaults followed; despite hand-to-hand fighting, the FEF’s troops put up a spirited defense, and soon after dawn, fighter-bombers broke up the attack entirely.

Around 0200 hours on March 28, a fresh PAVN regiment swarmed over the village after a heavy artillery preparation. Once again, the fighting turned hand-to-hand, and several French positions fell. Had Giap thrown another of his regiments into the fray, he might very well have overwhelmed the entire FEF force. But he hesitated long enough for accurate FEF artillery to change the momentum of the fight. By early morning, PAVN troops were withdrawing from the town, and the French had another victory. Giap had failed both to anticipate the naval gunfire that blunted the initial assault and to properly coordinate the pace and scope of the regimental attacks.

Having failed in his thrusts from the northwest and the north and paid dearly for it in blood, Giap now attempted a penetration of the southeastern perimeter of the Delta. The Day River campaign was certainly the most imaginatively conceived of the 1951 attacks: the main effort in this three-division operation was carried out by the bulk of the 320th Division, which was to cross from the west side of the Day River to the east, and then turn south to reoccupy the populous Catholic bishopric of Phat Diem, as well as the fertile rice-growing area to the northwest. If the initial attacks succeeded, PAVN units might press as far east as Thai Binh, thirty miles from the coast.

The terrain in the area of operations was well suited for attack, as the western bank of the Day River in this area rose above the French positions on its eastern side. Here the terrain was studded with limestone cliffs, jungle, vegetation, and many caves that offered Giap’s troops excellent cover from the inevitable French artillery and mortar bombardments. In addition, two PAVN regiments supported the attack from their positions deep inside the Delta, which they had successfully infiltrated months before the operation. Those regiments would engage in guerrilla operations, blocking and harassing any FEF reinforcements attempting to push westward toward the main PAVN attack into the Delta. Meanwhile, elements of the 308th and 304th would mount diversionary attacks northwest of Phat Diem, at Phy Ly and Ninh Binh.

The initial PAVN attacks by the 308th against Ninh Binh on May 29 caught the FEF and de Lattre completely by surprise, as Giap’s troops swarmed over a series of outposts protecting the town. De Lattre’s only son, Bernard, was killed in a desperate defensive action at a small fort overlooking Ninh Binh proper. When the French attempted to blunt the attack with a
dinassaut
—a heavily armed amphibious force of about a dozen small craft with artillery, mortars, and a company or two of marines—PAVN bazookas on both sides of the Day River ripped into the flotilla, sinking several craft, and damaging others. De Lattre then rushed several mobile groups and para battalions to the battle zone to avert disaster.

Sustained and brutal combat to the east of the Day River persisted through June 4. That night, the battle reached its apex when the Vietminh gained and lost a critical piece of terrain called Yen Cu Ha. By the morning of June 5, Giap’s attack began to wane. His troops came under increasingly intense air and artillery fire in the flat rice paddies on the east side of
the river. Near Phat Diem, the Catholic bishopric militia, staunchly antiCommunist, joined the fighting on the side of the FEF, slowing down the Vietminh advance. When the French
dinassaut
cut the Vietminh supply lines across the Day River, ammunition and food grew short.

Giap realized by the end of the first week of June that continuing to fight would be an exercise in futility. By the time the PAVN withdrew into the hills west of the Day River, it had suffered around 10,000 casualties. Another 1,000 main force troops were captured before they could retreat to the west. Overconfidence after the stunning success of the border campaign and impatience to vanquish France before American military assistance enhanced the FEF’s military capabilities unquestionably factored into the failures of the 1951 offensive drives. But an equally important factor was the disposition of the attacking and defending forces. All three of the attacks were launched along “exterior lines,” meaning Giap’s forces were attacking from outside the horseshoe-shaped area of the Delta, defended by fixed French positions. In order for the 1951 operations to succeed, the main attacks needed to be well supported by secondary attacks elsewhere against the De Lattre line in order to prevent French forces inside the horseshoe from reinforcing their comrades positioned against the main Vietminh attacks. Giap’s strategy of striking with virtually all his forces from a single direction in all three operations meant that the French could concentrate overwhelming force against Giap’s offensive drives.
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Taken together, the defeats of 1951 demonstrate that Giap had misread the strategic situation of the war at this point in time. Although the documentary record is thin on this issue, it appears that only the strong support of Uncle Ho, with his immense personal prestige, persuaded the Central Committee of the Party not to sack Vo Nguyen Giap. Such losses in the French or US armies certainly would have led to the relief of the commander.

Giap remained in command of the army. It wouldn’t be the last time that reverses on the battlefield would lead an influential clique to question the wisdom of retaining the army’s commander in chief, most notably in the early years of the American War, when the Le Duan–Nguyen Chi Thanh clique called for his ouster for lack of aggressiveness.

In the wake of the 1951 losses, the Central Committee decided to revert to stage two of protracted war conflict with a reduced level of combat, while nonetheless preparing diligently for the inevitable return to the
conventional operations associated with stage three. With the exception of one failed attack against a French fortress at Na San in November 1952, the PAVN would avoid conventional attacks against strongly defended positions until the Dien Bien Phu campaign in spring 1954.

Mobile warfare operations carried out by the regular PAVN divisions against remote, vulnerable targets, supplemented by guerrilla operations carried out by regional forces to disperse French forces and disrupt their communications lines, dominated the fighting in 1952 and 1953. Giap anticipated that the tempo of operations over the next two years (1952–1953) would increase gradually. Time would be his greatest weapon. Time to build and improve the PAVN; time to disperse and wear down the French through mobile operations.

The promising areas for PAVN campaigns after 1951 were not in or around the Red River Delta, but in the rugged northwest region, home of the Thai mountain people, in the highlands of western Annam, and in lightly defended northern Laos—places far from the FEF’s airfields clustered around Hanoi. Here the terrain would mitigate the FEF’s superior firepower and road mobility.

The defeats of 1951 lent Giap a new sense of urgency in solving his army’s deficiencies. Chinese training and material support would help to resolve most of them within the next two years. The general staff was reorganized along Chinese Communist lines into five discrete sections: personnel, intelligence, communications, planning, and operations. The Central Political Bureau of the army became one of three separate departments, joining the general staff and the supply service. Aside from providing officers in regular units from company to division levels, the Political Bureau refined indoctrination training techniques and expanded the number of internal publications to bring the word of the Revolution forward.

Not long after the failed 1951 offensive, the first “heavy” division—the 351st—reached operational strength, with two regiments of Chinese-supplied artillery, including some US 105mm howitzers captured in Korea, and one regiment of combat engineers. It was around this time, too, that antiaircraft sections, many manned initially by Chinese troops, were imbedded into the infantry divisions. Giap placed very high priority on developing the PAVN’s antiaircraft defenses over the next year to compensate for his lack of air power. In the remaining campaigns of the war, the
army’s capacity to inflict punishment on FEF fighter-bombers and transports proved an essential element in its success.

HOA BINH

As usual, neither adversary attempted to mount big-unit operations in the monsoon season. But by November 1951 General de Lattre was ready to cap his string of defensive victories with a full-blown offensive strike into Vietminh territory. If he could seize and hold a target of clear strategic value to the Vietminh, the doubting Thomases in Paris and Washington might well be moved to furnish him with the reinforcements and hardware he needed to inflict a fatal blow. A dramatic victory might even re-ignite public enthusiasm in France itself. De Lattre chose as the target of his operation the city of Hoa Binh, then under the administrative control of the Vietminh.

Situated some twenty-five miles southwest of the De Lattre Line, the city stood astride the major road junction between the Viet Bac and the Vietminh’s rice basket south of the Delta in Thanh Hoa.

Seizing Hoa Binh proved easy. On November 14, three battalions of paratroopers descended on the town, brushed aside token Vietminh regional forces, and occupied it within a few hours. Holding Hoa Binh, which was deep in Vietminh territory, however, would prove far more difficult. It had an airstrip, but it was dominated by two forested hills. The main challenge facing de Lattre lay in controlling the two avenues of approach to the town: the Black River ran directly north to Trung Ha, a supply point about forty miles away. The river banks were covered in thick jungle—excellent cover for any force attempting to cut the supply line. Route Coloniale 6, a thin ribbon of road in very bad repair, ran northeast toward Xuan Mai on the edge of the De Lattre line. It was flanked throughout by thick underbrush.

De Lattre deployed a massive force of fifteen infantry battalions, well supported by armor, artillery, and amphibious assets, to clear the river and the road. In a burst of frenetic activity, ten strong points were established on RC6 by combat engineers, and then manned by a seasoned force of Legionnaires and African infantrymen; meanwhile, French marines in
dinassauts
guarded supply convoys ferrying down the Black River to Hoa Binh’s garrison. On both banks, the engineers constructed a string of forts
and smaller outposts under the watchful eye of French fighter pilots. In late November the ailing de Lattre returned to Paris—he had cancer—and General Raoul Salan assumed command of the entire FEF as well as the impending battle of Hoa Binh, which the French press described rather dramatically as “a pistol pointed at the heart of the enemy.”
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While Salan’s force braced for a pincer counterattack against the town, Giap bided his time. He had no intention of conducting yet another conventional assault along exterior lines to recapture the town. Giap planned instead to attack Salan’s lines of communication, cutting them off through a series of slashing attacks against the many French strong points on both the river and the road, and then encircle the town and its FEF garrison.

The operation got under way when Giap sent three PAVN divisions from the Viet Bac toward Hoa Binh. Moving undetected through the jungle at night, the 312th deployed its battalions along the west bank of the Black River, while the 304th and 308th crept into positions south and east of Hoa Binh along RC6.

Because so many of the French units occupied defensive positions along the river and road approaches, Giap ruled out the possibility that Salan would mount a strong attack out of Hoa Binh proper against his encircling forces. To prevent French mobile forces in the Red River Delta from responding to the encirclement of Hoa Binh, Giap ordered elements of the 320th to infiltrate the Delta from the south to conduct diversionary operations. The 316th did the same from the north.

The battle of Hoa Binh (November 14, 1951, to February 23, 1952) commenced with a forty-minute artillery barrage against an anchoring strong point of the Black River defense line at Tu-Vu, followed by a ferocious attack by three PAVN regiments. Within two hours human wave attacks from several directions turned the post, manned by two companies of tough Moroccans supported by five tanks and mortars, into smoking ruins. By then, the defenders were on the verge of running out of ammunition. Bernard Fall recounts the end at Tu Vu in
Street without Joy:

At 0300, five battalions threw themselves against the 200-odd men of Tu-Vu. The tanks of the armored platoon, guns depressed to minimum elevation, fired into the screaming human clusters crawling over the parapets into the position, their heavy treads crushing heads, limbs, and bodies by the dozen as they slowly moved like chained elephants into the little open space left in the post. But soon they, too, were submerged by
the seemingly never ending human waves, with scores of hands clawing at their turret hatches trying to pry them open; stuffing incendiary hand grenades into their cannon, firing tommy gun bursts into their driving slits; finally destroying them with pointblank bazooka bursts which lit up their hulls with the sizzling white-hot metal. The sweetish smell of searing flesh rose in the air. All five tank crews died to the last man, roasted alive in their vehicles. . . . As the morning came, heavy silence reigned over Tu-Vu, and Moroccan patrols slipped . . . back into the post. They found it deserted of enemy soldiers and stripped of all weapons.
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