FOR a while, Saigon looked like a city liberated. Vietnamese G.I.s guarding public buildings munched oranges, bananas and candy, showered on them by civilians grateful for the overthrow of the regime. Pretty girls embraced soldiers, draped tank turrets with garlands, scrambled squealing aboard army Jeeps. With the lifting of a temporary curfew and Mme. Nhu's ban on dancing, Saigon's long-repressed night life flowered as never before. In bars and cabarets, the B-girls shucked the white, hospital-like smocks they had been forced to wear under the morality laws, wriggled back into their traditional slit skirts, or into U.S.-style slacks, to twist and...
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