Warfare is not in character for Laotians, a gentle people given to indolence, rice wine and frequent Buddhist festivals. But one noon last week civil war broke in the administrative capital of Vientiane, the City of Sandalwood. Tanks rolled through the streets firing in all directions. Mortar shells thudded down on hotels, embassies and shops. At a temple, 100 monks in saffron robes fluttered about like a flock of birds, seeking shelter behind big stone images of Buddha.
The fight for Vientiane was the long-postponed showdown between armies of the left and right in Laos. Ever since his coup in August, the city has been controlled by pro-Communist Captain Kong Le with a battalion of paratroops. Much of the rest of the country has remained in the hands of pro-U.S. General Phoumi Nosavan, the closest thing Laos has to a strongman. When neutralist Premier Prince Souvanna Phouma gave up his assiduous attempts at compromise between the two factions and flew off to safety in Cambodia (TIME, Dec. 19), the stage was set for trouble.
Showdown. Kong Le began by reinforcing his garrison with 2,000 Communist Pathet Lao guerrillas from the nearby jungles. Then he turned for further aid to his good friend, Russian Ambassador Aleksandr Abramov. Helpfully, Abramov flew in six 105-mm. howitzers and eight 120-mm. mortars as well as a batch of North Vietnamese to teach the Laotians how to use their new weapons. At his stronghold to the south, Savannakhet, General Phoumi countered by convening most of the members of the National Assembly. They voted Prince Souvanna out of office and named as the new Premier Boun Oum, a silver-haired, pro-U.S. princeling from Laos' lush southern hill country. Then by river boat, foot and plane, three battalions of Phoumi's troops moved on Vientiane.
Phoumi's troops, well equipped with U.S. tanks and weapons, carried the downtown area in their first assault. Kong Le's men fell back to the west and south, but then laid down an artillery barrage that was suspiciously accurate by Laotian standards of gunnery. Shells crashed into the U.S. embassy, setting it afire; under small-arms fire from a cemetery near by, some 30 persons inside crawled out on their bellies. Five shells hit the rickety Constellation Hotel, where women and children crouched in the bar and cried. As the barrage kept up, flash fires raced through the flimsy brothels and opium dens along the Avenue of Evening Paradise. Risking the crossfire, prostitutes and addicts joined the long lines of refugees that padded along the banks of the Mekong River to catch a ferry across to safety in Thailand.
Changing Flags. For three days the battle lines shifted. Desertions were commonplace and simple to effect; a soldier of uncertain mind had only to change the red arm band of the Kong Le faction for the white band of General Phoumi. Anxious to please, shopkeepers waved red or white flags as the tide of battle wavered.