South Viet Nam: On the Edge of Town

The lights in the bars on Tu Do Street in downtown Saigon gleam through the moist monsoon night until the capital’s 11 p.m. curfew. But a scant ten miles away on Saigon’s rural edges, the huts grow dark with the dusk. Lights are as likely to attract a Viet Cong bullet as a mosquito. Their backs to the glow from the city, South Vietnamese troops and their U.S. advisers settle back for a long night of watching—and, above all, listening. For the perimeter surrounding the 400 square miles of Gia Dinh province, which includes Saigon, is one of the most contested and dangerous parts of Viet Nam today.

Stop the Music. Saigon’s suburban battle seldom makes the headlines. It is still largely the sentry’s war of short, sharp encounters: the bark of a close rifle, the sudden cough of automatic weapons, the crump of a single mortar, occasionally a scream as a knife finds its way through a rib cage. An “incident” may be anything from the skirmish of a dozen men to the blare of a propaganda bullhorn; whatever their nature, incidents are on the increase along the Gia Dinh perimeter. From February to April they averaged 37 a month. Through July the rate rose to 55 a month. Last month the total was 95, including four VC assaults in force, and 17 attacks with grenades and mortars.

Some 10,000 South Vietnamese troops defend Saigon and Gia Dinh against an estimated 15,000 Viet Cong circling the province. “We have two local radars,” explained one Vietnamese marine near Cholon, the adjacent city where much of Saigon’s Chinese population lives. “First, there are the frogs we call rainettes. If they stop chirping, look out. It means someone has come near their paddy. Next, you listen for three loud squawks from the blue water birds. You can actually plot a patrol’s course by listening to the frogs and birds.”

When the music stops, the sentries radio for help. First a yellow illumination shell goes up from mortars, followed by diamond-white flares from planes overhead. Then come the “freight trains”—the wheeoosh of friendly artillery shells rushing overhead toward a suspect marsh near by. Who is killed? Who knows? More often than not, the flares have dispersed the Viet Cong long before the first angry cannon is fired.

Out of the Blue. The battle for Saigon’s edge may swell soon: two new Viet Cong regiments have recently arrived on the scene. Already the U.S. has beefed up its response. Last week Saigon felt the explosive touch of Guam-based B-52s, as the giant SAC bombers hit a V.C. troop concentration only 20 miles from the capital. It was the 17th mission for the B-52s since they were first brought into the war last June. Though each plane’s sortie on the 5,200-mile round trip from Guam costs $30,000, the B-52s have distinct merits. Each can carry 20,000 Ibs. of the 750-lb. and 1,000-lb. bombs, deliver them in a saturation pattern that fighter-bombers cannot duplicate—on targets the Viet Cong do not know in advance. How many V.C. are killed in each strike is hard to say. But the point is to keep the enemy off balance. Last week Washington announced that imbalance was here to stay: from now on, the B-52s will be pounding the enemy on a daily basis.