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But the months of battling against intrigue and betrayal had left him more wary and distrustful than ever. Always stiff and aloof, he was almost totally out of touch with the people, remained in his palace constantly. Even onetime admirers began to grumble about the influence of 51-year-old Brother Ngo Dinh Nhu. From a soundproofed office inside the palace, Nhu operated his own political party, the Can Lao, an elite group of 70,000 that was under orders to spy on the citizenry. There were also mutters about Nhu's wife, a pretty, dynamic feminist who carried on her own battles as a member of the National Assembly. She irritated many by ramming her "Family Code" through the legislature, forbidding divorce except by presidential decree, and making adultery a prison offense.
Another brother, a short, fortyish bachelor named Ngo Dinh Can, controls central Viet Nam from the family's hometown of Hué. He has his own network of secret police, holds sway over the government's provincial chiefs in the region. Reputedly owner of vast tracts of land, he is wealthy, contributed heavily to the construction of a new cathedral in Hue where Brother Ngo Dinh Thuc is now Archbishop.
Telephone Coup. Grumbling had begun among the army officers over Diem's inflexible leadership, his refusal to introduce democratic reforms. And no one was happy with the way the anti-Communist war was going. Last fall the Viet Cong opened its new campaign, boosting the killing to an average 800 a month. Many soldiers blamed Diem for keeping political officers in command, refusing to allow even a company to move without his sanction. Along Saigon's Rue Catinat, the sidewalk cafés buzzed with rumors of assassination or a coup d'état.
In the dawn hours one morning in November, three crack paratroop battalions moved out of their barracks in trucks, surrounded the presidential palace and opened fire on the surprised guards. The rebels had no intention of removing Diem, wanted only his promise to dismiss his cabinet, form a provisional military government, guarantee freedom of the press and step up the fight against the Communists. Diem agreed to all this as he dickered by telephone with the rebel leaders outside. But when loyal army units arrived to break the siege. Diem blandly watered down his promised reforms, sniffing, "It was nothing . . . a handful of adventurers." Over Saigon Radio, he broadcast, ''The government continues to serve the nation."
Had Diem learned any lessons from his close escape? The fear of U.S. officials on the spot was that the soldiers might revolt again—this time with tougher ambitions. "The army has lost its virginity,'' suggested an old political hand. "Next time it will be easier."