Special Section: WHITE HOUSE YEARS: PART 2 THE AGONY OF VIETNAM

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and dignity as he saw it, and he had revolutionized diplomacy. We spoke to each other in nearly affectionate terms, like veterans of bitter battles at a last reunion, even though we both sensed somehow that too much had happened between us to make the rest of the journey together.

Haig would leave on Jan. 14 for Saigon with an ultimatum that we would sign the document, if necessary, without Thieu. I would return to Paris on Jan. 23 to complete the agreement.

The signature by foreign ministers would take place in Paris on Jan. 27. As a sop to Rogers, I had agreed not to attend the final culmination of these efforts. What we had struggled, prayed, hoped and perhaps even hated for—the end of our involvement in Indochina, and peace—was about to be celebrated.

But we still did not have the agreement of that doughty little man in Saigon, President Thieu. Nixon was determined to prevail. "Brutality is nothing," he said to me. "You have never seen it if this son-of-a-bitch doesn't go along, believe me." Haig delivered a scorching letter from Nixon to Thieu on Jan. 16. Its crucial paragraph read: "I have irrevocably decided to initial the Agreement on Jan. 27, 1973, in Paris. I will do so, if necessary, alone. In that case I shall have to explain publicly that your Government obstructs peace. The result will be an inevitable and immediate termination of U.S. economic and military assistance." On Jan. 21, Thieu finally relented.

I believed then, and I believe now, that the agreement could have worked. [A cease-fire would begin Jan. 27. All U.S. combat troops would be withdrawn and military prisoners released within 60 days. The South Vietnamese people would have the right to determine their own political future. The DMZ would be respected. The U.S. would pledge to aid in reconstruction efforts.] The agreement reflected a true equilibrium of forces on the ground. If the equilibrium were maintained, the agreement could have been maintained. We believed Saigon was strong enough to deal with guerrilla war and low-level violations. The implicit threat of our retaliation would be likely to deter massive violations. We had no illusions about Hanoi's long-term goals. Nor did we go through the agony of four years of war and searing negotiations simply to achieve a "decent interval" for our withdrawal. We were determined to enable Saigon to prevail if assaulted. But for the collapse of executive authority as a result of Watergate and congressional refusal to provide adequate aid to Saigon, I believe we would have succeeded.

A Broken Heart

On Jan. 22, two days after Richard Nixon's second Inaugural, I left for Paris for the final meeting with Le Duc Tho. It was to take place for the first time on neutral and ceremonial ground in a conference room at Avenue Kleber, the scene of 174 futile plenary sessions since 1968.

When I arrived in Paris, I learned that Lyndon Johnson had died that day. He was himself a casualty of the Viet Nam War, which he had inherited and then expanded in striving to fulfill his conception of our nation's duty and of his obligation to his fallen predecessor. There was nothing he had wanted less than to be a war President, and this no doubt contributed to his inconclusive conduct of the struggle. It was symbolic that this hulking, imperious, vulnerable,