A GRIM REMINDER THAT THE WAR GOES ON

IT was 2 a.m. in the dark of the night. All across the war-weary country, South Vietnamese were sleeping off the revelry of Tet, Viet Nam's long est and happiest holiday. This three-day Tet had passed peacefully, unlike the nightmare of the year before, when more than 36,000 of the Communists' finest assault troops smashed into South Viet Nam's cities and towns. Then suddenly, in a whoosh of rockets and thud of mortars, the nightmare seemed about to begin again. Barely 19 hours after they had ended a self-imposed, week-long Tet truce, Communist gunners launched coordinated rocket and mortar attacks on more than 100 cities, towns and military installations throughout South Viet Nam, including the capital of Saigon.

This time, at least in the first phases of the attacks, the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong appeared to be aiming primarily at military targets, not civilians.

However, several Soviet-built 122-mm.

rockets fell into Saigon -- the first such bombardment of South Vietnamese ci vilian areas since Lyndon Johnson or dered a bombing halt over North Viet Nam last Oct. 31. The big missiles, fired from the outskirts of the capital, whistled in during the early-morning hours in two brief barrages. One round fell into the central market, smashing vendors' stalls and killing a Vietnamese woman. The others dropped into residential areas, where at least five persons died.

Infantry on Guard. Danang, the country's second largest city and the coastal hub of northernmost I Corps, suffered greater damage. Rockets and mortar rounds poured into the city as well as into surrounding military installations. Chain explosions rocked an ammunition dump, setting huge fires raging and pumping black smoke high into the sky. A Marine hangar at the airfield was damaged. Incoming rounds hit a bare 200 yards from the headquarters of the Third Marine Amphibious Force, damaging the naval support headquarters just across the Danang River.

Other attacks shook the imperial city of Hue, Pleiku in the Central Highlands and the sprawling supply base at Cam Ranh Bay. In the wake of the bombardments, the Communists attempted a few scattered small-scale ground probes. Infiltrating Communist infantry and sappers were loose in Danang, and local allied commanders decreed a 24-hour curfew to aid in flushing them out. In Saigon, a demolition squad slammed B40 rocket rounds into an isolated precinct station and killed four policemen before being driven off with their own loss of four dead. Long Binh, a U.S. headquarters and logistics base just north of Saigon, was hit by 80 mortar rounds and a number of rockets. Nearly a dozen Communist troopers penetrated Long Binh's defensive wire, but were soon repelled. A similar probe tested the defenses of nearby Bien Hoa airbase. Northwest of Saigon, two Communist battalions tangled with a unit of the 25th U.S. Division.

Unlike last year, when virtually half the Vietnamese army was on carefree--and careless--leave at Tet, the allies were well prepared this time. While thousands of Vietnamese flocked into the streets to celebrate Tet, armed Vietnamese infantrymen stood guard on nearly every corner. The U.S. Embassy, briefly invaded by a Communist assault team last Tet, resembled a huge bunker bristling with concrete defense works and armed men. Yet, aside from relatively minor Communist violations of their own truce, the country as a whole was quiet during the fete. Not until it had ended did the Communists strike.

Curfew Passes. Whether for political reasons or because of military weakness, they had not launched a major campaign for six months. Still, captured documents had indicated that they retained hopes of a spectacular new offensive. By week's end, intelligence reports began piling up, indicating that Communist forces were indeed on the move in III Corps, the belt of important provinces surrounding Saigon. Since the Communists had an estimated 20,000 to 30,000 assault troops deployed within striking distance of the capital, the reports were not taken lightly. They were regarded so seriously, in fact, that on the eve of the attack U.S. mess halls in Saigon closed three hours early. The park in front of Independence Palace, normally a trysting place for lovers, was deserted. Extra troops and police manned checkpoints to examine thoroughly the curfew passes of the few stragglers still in the streets. Thus within minutes after the Communists opened up with their first rounds, flares spread their eerie glow into the night sky and allied gunners fired back at suspected Communist battery emplacements.

At week's end, with initial damage and casualties light, it was still unclear whether the countrywide attacks were the signal for a major ground offensive or merely a macabre salute to commemorate last year's bloody campaign, which had so stunned the allied war machine and shattered optimistic predictions that the Communists were on the run. Perhaps Hanoi simply felt that a show of force would strengthen its position at the Paris peace talks as Richard Nixon's negotiators took over. Whatever the Communists' motivation, the attacks--and their timing--served as a reminder that the war in Viet Nam goes on in ways all too familiar for comfort.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.