Four On the Road

1. Charmer in Paris

The French, who perfected protocol and politesse, faced a delicate situation. How should they welcome Soviet Party Boss Leonid Brezhnev, arriving in Paris last week for a six-day visit? Since the bulky, heavy-browed Brezhnev, 64, holds neither state nor governmental station, technically he was not entitled to official honors. But he made it plain that he wanted full red-carpet treatment, and he knew that the French saw his first trip to Western Europe since succeeding Nikita Khrushchev in 1964 as an opportunity to improve relations.

Eventually Brezhnev had his way. President Georges Pompidou smashed protocol by ordering him treated as a chief of state. As a result, when the Soviet leader's Ilyushin-62 came to a stop at Orly last week, it was met by Pompidou, a red carpet, a 101-gun salute and clattering escorts of the mounted Garde Republicaine. Brezhnev and Wife Viktoria Petrovna were lodged in such a vast suite at the Grand Trianon in Versailles that Brezhnev jok ingly complained: "It takes me so long to go from my bedroom to the dining room that I may ask Mr. Pompidou for a vehicle." At the Trianon, Pompidou hosted a state dinner that included so many French wines and champagnes that Brezhnev had to forgo another ceremonial dinner next evening. Security was heavy. Potential troublemakers were rounded up and sent aboard a chartered jet for a paid vacation in Corsica to last the duration of Brezhnev's stay. Ten thousand flics and riot police, the largest concentration since the days of Algerian upheaval, were assigned to protect Brezhnev wherever he moved.

The Human Brezhnev. Between meals and side trips in Paris and Marseille, the two leaders and their advisers met for nearly 14 hours at the Elysee Palace to talk politics. Pompidou extended the invitation to Brezhnev last October during his visit to Moscow, but the Russians were evasive about the timing until President Nixon announced in July that he was going to Peking. Then Brezhnev's Paris trip was suddenly firmed up. The Soviets were not concerned that Premier Aleksei Kosygin would be out of the country at the same time (see following story). President Nikolai Podgorny and other Politburo members were watching the store back in Moscow, and Brezhnev and Kosygin appeared confident enough of their control to be able to travel abroad separately yet simultaneously.

Soon after the trip was announced, Moscow began maneuvering for a Franco-Russian treaty of friendship. Pompidou politely demurred, agreeing instead on an economic agreement under which trade will double to nearly $1 billion by 1976. It also calls on state-owned Renault to provide $222 million in technical assistance and equipment for the $1.2 billion Soviet truck plant on the Kama River; Moscow had tried unsuccessfully to get Ford, Mack Truck and Daimler-Benz to help out.

But Brezhnev, who is anxious to lay the groundwork for a European security conference in 1972, still wanted a formal friendship pact with the French and, like a stumping politico, he oozed graciousness to get it. He began by granting a rare personal interview in Moscow to the Paris Communist newspaper L'Humanite, that was timed for publication last week. French readers learned that Brezhnev still lives modestly in the same apartment house at 26 Kutuzovsky Prospekt that he moved into in 1952 when he arrived in Moscow; the only difference is that Brezhnev, his wife and his mother now occupy five rooms instead of three. Brezhnev customarily works late at the Kremlin, sometimes has difficulty sleeping without a sedative. To cut down on his smoking, he is trying a time-lock cigarette case (made in France, he thinks) which opens only after a preset number of minutes or hours has passed. "Yesterday," Brezhnev told L'Humanite, "I smoked only 17 cigarettes." He is too busy to pursue the sports of younger days--skating, skiing, cycling and even parachute jumping --but he still hunts, and away from Moscow, likes to drive. "When I am at the steering wheel, I am actually taking a rest."

Excellent Mood. In person, Brezhnev was the personification of charm and amiability. He said he wanted to speak "for over an hour" from a balcony at the house in Paris' rue Marie-Rose where Lenin lived from 1909 to 1912. When the French complained that such a lengthy speech to 2,000 hand-picked French Communists would be "inconvenient," he scaled it down to five minutes.

A formal press conference was also eliminated, but Brezhnev's lighter moments were conveyed to newsmen. Touring the Louvre he asked dutifully about the missing arms of the Venus de Milo and worried about the extent of feminine nudity in art. He praised Picasso and said he particularly liked the artist's 1949 peace dove. "Tell him," said Brezhnev, thumping a meaty fist into his palm, "that this is a great work. Very strong. Very powerful."

Finger-Licking Good. The performance was impressive. TIME Correspondent Jerrold Schecter, who, as Moscow bureau chief from 1968 to 1970 followed Brezhnev, cabled from Paris: "He is a political man. He has all the juices of power and they flow easily. When he is not pushing the political-military power buttons, he is full of charm, humor, small talk and energy. When he is bored he taps his foot, mops his brow or smooths back his full gray hair. The earlier Brezhnev who licked his fingers at banquets has faded. He is sure of himself. He times his motions carefully."

But Schecter also noted other new aspects of Brezhnev as No. 1 Soviet leader. "This may be the era of diplomatic confrontations. With the Russians, that means long, hard and painful bargaining over every specific with a carefully advanced and prepared design. For this, Brezhnev is the front man, virile, steely, stony if necessary. He has bigger-than-life qualities that the Russians respect, and the West worries about. He does not construct ideas with Kosygin's scope, but he knows the gospel and he is dogged."

The French learned as much last week when Brezhnev requested additional meetings with Pompidou and reopened his arguments for a Franco-Russian friendship treaty. At the Trianon, Pompidou had recalled France's long experience at dealing with Russians; Peter the Great, for instance, was an earlier guest at Versailles. Even so, the French President found himself hard put to withstand the arguments of this latest Russian visitor. Despite his reluctance to sign anything that resembled Moscow's recent treaties with India and Egypt, he found himself signing at week's end a vaguely phrased "Statement of Principles of Cooperation." Brezhnev had a political document to help him polish his image as a foreign policy expert--and Pompidou had fresh evidence that it can be difficult to say no to Moscow. 2. A Soother in Havana

Rarely had a rumor died so quickly. Early in the week, word was circulating in some Cuban communities in the U.S. that Fidel Castro was gravely ill or even dead. Within a matter of hours, however, Cuba's Premier had a tailor-made opportunity to show the world that he is still in the pink. When Soviet Premier Aleksei Kosygin flew into Havana from Toronto after a tour of Canada, Fidel was waiting to greet him with hugs and kisses on the cheek. Thirteen newsmen from non-Communist nations, including TIME'S Geoffrey Stevens, were on hand to note that Castro looked fit, decked out in his customary fatigues and with a gun on his hip.

Kosygin flew to Cuba to soothe Fidel's fears about Richard Nixon's upcoming visit to Moscow. "Castro hates summitry," a Western diplomat in Havana said. "He is always afraid that people are making deals behind his back." So, since Kosygin was right in the neighborhood at the end of his eight-day Canadian visit, he jetted down to reassure Fidel that the Moscow-Washington summit would not harm his relations with the Russians.

Open Chaika. In Canada, despite the unexpected physical attack on him by a disgruntled protester, Kosygin's stay wound up on a pleasant and occasionally jocular note. In Edmonton, the Premier allowed himself to be photographed smoking a peace pipe and wearing a headdress of the Ermineskin Indians. In Vancouver, British Columbia, Premier W.A.C. Bennett kept insisting that Canada and Russia should have closer relations until Kosygin finally smiled thinly and said: "Fine, I agree. Let's make you our 16th republic."

In Cuba, the mood changed to one of confusion. Kosygin's trip coincided with a sudden series of unusual developments. There was Fidel's planned trip to Santiago this week to help Salvador Allende celebrate his first anniversary as Chile's President. Parked barely a quarter-mile from where Kosygin's Ilyushin-62 set down was a far larger American Airlines 747 commercial jet that had been hijacked to Cuba with 229 passengers during a New York-to-Puerto Rico flight; passengers and hijacker alike were booked into the Havana Libre Hotel (the former Havana Hilton). The passengers, after a two-night stay, flew on to San Juan, and the 747 was also released. Then, too, the Cuban government was watching with deep interest the exploits of 19 Cuban sugar technicians who flew into New Orleans with 20 minutes' notice to the air controllers and without visas to attend an international sugar conference; it seems they had been invited by the conference's officers, but nonplused U.S. immigration officials first penned them up in an airport motel, then moved them to a naval base and started deportation proceedings.

In the midst of all this came Kosygin. Along the route from Havana airport to the capital, as many as 500,000 people trucked in from farms and outlying villages cheered him and waved flags. Foreign diplomats in Havana could not remember the last time that Castro had ridden in an open convertible as he did with Kosygin (in a green Chaika, a gift from the Soviet Union); these days he usually travels in a closed car with two escort vehicles, all bristling with machine guns. "We passed a huge mural of Che Guevara," reported Correspondent Stevens of the motorcade from the airport. "A year ago there had been a companion mural of Ho Chi Minh. Cubans would only say it had been taken down. They did not know why."

Nyet to Da. Kosygin's four-day itinerary included a visit with Cuban workers during which he was presented with a hard hat to go with his Indian headdress. Two days were spent in discussions at the Palace of the Revolution, followed by a 460-mile flight to Santiago de Cuba. The plane arrived two hours late in a driving rainstorm. Nothing more momentous happened. Then had Kosygin come only to bolster Fidel's feelings? The best guess was that the Soviet Premier, who keeps watch over Moscow's foreign economic arrangements while Leonid Brezhnev supervises its broader foreign relations, had stopped by to see how Cuba's economy is holding up in the wake of disappointing sugar harvests. Soviet aid to Cuba now totals half a billion dollars annually, and during Kosygin's visit a dozen Soviet freighters and tankers in old Havana harbor were unloading the oil and cargo without which Castro's regime can scarcely survive.

Apparently no formal agreement of the sort that Soviet Party Leader Brezhnev pushed for in Paris was sought in Havana; none was needed, given Cuba's heavy dependence on Moscow's aid and favor. U.S. eavesdroppers, however, were puzzled by one bit of banter monitored over Havana radio. Visiting a state factory near Havana, Kosygin demurred at Castro's invitation to speak. "Please say a few words," pleaded Castro. Kosygin's nyet finally turned into a very grudging da. "Comrades," he told the crowd through an interpreter, "you see how your Premier gets his way. He has a way of getting his way. But we have reached an understanding, is that not so, Companero Castro?" Castro's reply, if there was one, was indistinct. Some observers speculated that the Russians, who have had some success with their Via Pacifica policy in Latin America, wanted to warn Castro against resuming an unsettling, subversive role in the region. 3. A Pleader in the West

There is something in this country which enables its people, for all their illiteracy and backwardness, to rise to the occasion when face to face with mighty challenges.

--Indira Gandhi, 1966

Not since gaining independence in 1947 has India faced a more mighty challenge: the threat of a war with Pakistan that could engulf the entire subcontinent. Yet as Prime Minister Indira Gandhi made her way across Europe on a six-nation tour that will bring her to Washington this week, she was forced to concede that her countrymen badly need help to rise to this occasion.

Before departing on her three-week trip, Mrs. Gandhi delivered a five-minute radio broadcast to the nation. In it she did not even mention Pakistan, whose troops are faced off against Indian jawans along both their eastern and western borders, and made only passing reference to the 9,500,000 Bengali refugees who have spilled into India since civil war broke out in East Pakistan last March. Instead, Mrs. Gandhi praised Indians for their "courage, dignity and self-restraint" in meeting the "danger" and exhorted them to do nothing in anger or haste that might worsen the situation.

Nonetheless, before departing for Brussels on the first leg of her journey, the Prime Minister activated the country's military reservists for the first time since the 1965 clash with Pakistan over Kashmir. During the past three weeks, moreover, India has built up its forces along its borders with both Pakistan and China. Whatever misgivings Indira had about leaving at such a critical moment were plainly outweighed by the belief that the time had come to plead India's case with other world leaders. Indeed, her departure itself, signaling that New Delhi apparently did not believe war to he imminent, served in some measure to alleviate the tensions that have reached fever pitch recently due to military buildups by both Islamabad and New Delhi.

Condonation. After meeting with Mrs. Gandhi last week, Belgian Prime Minister Gaston Eyskens stated that he was convinced India would not initiate a war. In Vienna, Mrs. Gandhi took time out from political discussions to accept a check for refugee children, and in London, where she conferred with Foreign Secretary Sir Alec Douglas-Home, she urged Britain to exert economic pressure against Pakistan.

Indira's visit to Washington this week comes at what many observers regard as the lowest ebb ever in Indian-American relations. Indians have been particularly outraged that the Administration has continued shipments of military materiel to Pakistan. As Indira rather bitterly put it: "As you know, everybody admires our restraint. We get the verbal praise, and the others, who are not restrained, get arms support." Such action, she indicated, amounted to condonation of "a genocide, a pogrom on people who tried to bring democracy into practice." She was referring to Pakistani President Agha Mohammed Yahya Khan's crackdown on East Pakistan's majority Apolitical party, the Awami League; the arrest of its leader Sheik Mujibur Rahman, now on trial for treason before a secret military tribunal; and terrorist tactics that by one estimate have claimed a million lives. In turn, Washington is likely to urge Mrs. Gandhi to reconsider her rejection of Yahya's proposal for a mutual troop pullback from the borders.

Temptation. Reports of an increasing number of border incidents last week underscored the urgency of a quick solution --which, however, is hardly in sight. Both sides traded charges of shelling across the borders. The Indian government said that five people were killed and 20 wounded when Pakistani mortar shells hit the Indian city of Agartala. At the same time, Pakistan reported that Indian artillery had shelled border villages in East Pakistan, killing 64 civilians in one day alone. Pakistan also claimed to have killed 579 "Indian troops and agents"--a euphemism frequently used for Bengali guerrillas. In Kashmir, 35 Pakistani and eight Indian soldiers were reported killed in border clashes.

With armed forces totaling 930,000. India appears to have a clear advantage over the 364,500-man Pakistani armed forces. Moreover, Pakistan has 80,000 of its men tied down in East Pakistan, 1,100 miles from main supply bases. The heaviest troop concentrations on both sides are now along the India-West Pakistan border--including the disputed Kashmir region--where Pakistan has marshaled forces of about 250,000 and India is believed to have a like number. What the Indians fear most, however, is that when the Pakistani army begins to feel pressure from the Bengali guerrillas, who are expected to number about 100,000 by next year, it may be tempted to go to war with India to elicit third-power or United Nations intervention. Not that India is free from such temptations. According to the Indian Institute for Defense Studies and Analysis, a quick war with Pakistan would cost New Delhi less than dealing with the still swelling number of refugees and the inevitable social turmoil that they bring. That, of course, does not reckon with the other, more disastrous costs of such a war. 4. Nonaligner in Washington

"Zivela Yugoslavia!" Richard Nixon exclaimed exuberantly in Serbo-Croatian, as he threw his arm around Josip Broz Tito on the red-carpeted South Lawn of the White House last week. The Yugoslav President beamed with pleasure and replied with an equally enthusiastic "Viva America!"

The occasion was Tito's first state visit to the U.S., and Nixon was determined to make it a welcome to remember. So it was, with three military bands, an honor guard, a fanfare of trumpets and a 21-gun salute. The Old Guard Fife and Drum Corps, in powdered wigs, tricornered hats and high buckled shoes, turned out to welcome the man who defied Stalin by embarking on his own path to "national Communism" 23 years ago.

Both Presidents obviously delighted in renewing their acquaintance, so much so that capital wits promptly dubbed them "the Odd Couple." At first glance, the two would appear to have little in common. One is a Moscow-trained Communist, World War II partisan hero and spokesman for the Third World, the other a conservative Republican who once specialized in ferreting out Communists. Remarkably vigorous, tanned and erect at 79, Tito stands almost a head shorter than Nixon, though he more than makes up for it with his barrel-chested authority.

Despite their differences, their personal admiration for each other--which blossomed last year when Nixon visited

Belgrade--appears to be quite genuine. Their interests as statesmen, moreover, coincide to a far greater degree than would at first seem possible.

What's He Like? The Yugoslav leader, who has met recently with Soviet Party Leader Leonid Brezhnev, India's Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, Pakistan President Agha Mohammed Yahya Khan and Egyptian President Anwar Sadat, has himself gone a long way toward launching the "era of negotiations," to use Richard Nixon's phrase. After the pomp and circumstance on the White House lawn, the two men retired to the Oval Room for a wide-ranging 75-minute discussion. Nixon, who plans to meet with Brezhnev in Moscow some time next year, specifically asked Tito what the Soviet party leader is like.

For the Yugoslavs, the principal item of interest was business. Belgrade's trade with the U.S. receives "most favored nation" treatment, but U.S. exports to Yugoslavia in the past 19 months have been nearly $311 million as against $153 million in imports. Yugoslavia hopes to help offset the unfavorable balance of trade by promoting joint ventures with U.S. companies. The Administration agreed to reschedule $58.6 million in loans accrued by Yugoslavia between 1949 and 1959 that would have fallen due in the next two years.

Third World. In foreign policy, Tito underscored one of his prime concerns --that the superpowers remember the interests of the small- and medium-size nations. Replying to President Nixon's toast at a White House state dinner, Tito raised a glass to the inclusion of the People's Republic of China in the United Nations, interpreting the event as a victory for Third World nations.

On the Middle East, Tito reportedly told Nixon that he favors an interim settlement calling for Israeli withdrawal from the Suez Canal--a position close to that of Egyptian President Sadat --and that Brezhnev had told him all Soviet military personnel would be withdrawn from the Middle East once a settlement was reached. He also said that tensions on the India-Pakistan border had become a more serious threat to peace than either the Middle East or Southeast Asia.

Except for a demonstration by 50 emigrant Serbs outside Blair House one day, the visit went off virtually without a hitch. At week's end, Nixon and Tito issued a joint communique heralding Yugoslavia's policy of nonalignment as "an important factor in international relations." Then Tito flew on to Houston for a tour of NASA's Manned Spacecraft Center and to Los Angeles for a visit to the McDonnell Douglas plant before returning home via Canada this week.

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