The Silent Sideshow

What ever became of the chaos in Laos? Last year at this time the pro-Communist Pathet Lao were strutting lumpily across the Plain of Jars in their dun-colored uniforms, proudly triumphant over the "neutralist" forces of General Kong Le and threatening to overrun the entire country. To be sure, the Pathet Lao are still there--and stronger than ever. According to U.S. officials, the Laotian Reds have been bolstered by 10,000 North Vietnamese troops. But with the monsoon already hampering military operations, they have failed for the first time since 1960 to mount a spring offensive.

Rice & Rifles. The main reason is U.S. escalation of the war in neighboring Viet Nam. U.S. jets, striking out of Thailand, Danang and the Gulf of Tonkin at supply routes from the north, have kept the Pathet Lao pinned down. Since North Viet Nam considers Laos a sideshow anyhow, the Laotian Communists recently have had short shrift in supplies from Hanoi.

What is more, the anti-Communist Laotian armies of Kong Le and rightist General Kouprasith Abhay have finally learned to fight effectively together. A joint operation not only cleared and held the northern sector of the Vien-tiane-Luangprabang road (see map) but has produced more than 300 Pathet Lao defectors as well.

Unlike their Viet Cong comrades in South Viet Nam, the Pathet Lao are a conventional fighting force equipped with trucks and armored cars that bog down in the monsoon mud. Moreover, the Laotian anti-Communists now have effective insurgent bands afield in Red territory. They consist mainly of 6,000 American-supplied Meo tribesmen, tough little primitives skilled in the savage techniques of ambush and night assault. Meo loyalty has been sealed by a U.S. airlift of rice ($6,500,000 worth this year alone), which feeds 160,000 tribesmen. Along with the kernels come rifles, grenades and ammunition to replace the traditional Meo crossbows.

Votes & the Red Prince. If things are going well militarily in Laos, they are as hazy as ever politically. Neutralist Premier Souvanna Phouma must deal with a country half occupied by Communists, half hung up on the political bickering of the antiCommunists. Souvanna has survived three major attempts to overthrow his government in the past four months, and rightist bands loyal to exiled Deputy Premier Phoumi Nosavan--in Thailand since February's coup attempt--still prowl the countryside between Paksane and Thakhek.

But suave, smooth Souvanna is far from panicky. Sucking his pipe, he steps gingerly through the subtle maze of Laotian politics, playing the delicate game of nods, winks and selective handshakes. At a recent Soviet reception, Souvanna greeted his Russian hosts warmly, then whisked carefully past the Red Chinese and North Vietnamese to shake hands with the British, French and U.S. ambassadors.

For Souvanna, a current topic of conversation is the National Assembly elections scheduled for July 18. Under the constitution governing Laos' tripartite regime, the current Assembly mandate expired in April. In the coming elections, some 19,000 government officials, army officers, village headmen and merchants will choose Assembly candidates put up by the three parties. Then King Savang Vatthana will nominate 59 from that list to fill the new Assembly. The Pathet Lao are entitled to present their own candidates, but Red Prince Souphanouvong--the other Deputy Premier--has already denounced the process as illegal. Souphanouvong just might take the opportunity to add to the problems of Souvanna--his half brother--by formally walking out of the government in which he already takes no practical part. That would finally wipe out the precarious balance established at Geneva in 1962.

Girls & Sewing Machines. It is Vientiane's unique charm to be riding the crest of an economic boomlet as political disaster perpetually surrounds it. Indian and Chinese shops are stocked with Scotch whisky, Benares silks, Dior perfumes and Max Factor cosmetics. But under it all lurks the perennial mood of bo peng nhan (it doesn't matter), scrofulous pi-dogs howl their way past open drains, and the sidewalks under the glittering shop windows are perilous with potholes.

Progress is more evident at Vang Vieng, the vital crossroads town 75 miles north of Vientiane where Kong Le maintains his 8,000-man neutralist army. When Kong Le moved in last year, after being pushed off the Plain of Jars by the Pathet Lao, Vang Vieng was a jumble of wrecked trucks, shattered huts and rusty barbed wire. Now tidy, white-washed barracks climb the hills around Vang Vieng's 4,500-ft. airstrip (recently resurfaced by U.S. aid), and a small sawmill snarls busily, cutting planks for a new school, shops and houses for 2,000 Meo refugees who fled when their villages were occupied by the Pathet Lao.

Some rightist officers--including Kouprasith--are still suspicious of Kong Le for accepting Russian tanks and artillery in 1960-61. And the tough little general's relations with Premier Souvanna are far from smooth. When the two were invited to Indonesia's Bandung anniversary seven weeks ago, Souvanna tried to keep Kong Le at home, knowing that Indonesia would like nothing better than to woo his neutralist general with offers of arms and aid. Indonesia's President Sukarno threw everything at him, including bare-breasted Balinese dancers and bushels of flowers. But Kong Le took care of himself: he refused the offer of guns, danced with the girls--and accepted a pair of sewing machines for his tailor shops at Vang Vieng.

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