On Strategy: A Critical Analysis of the Vietnam War

The italicized portions of the Vietnam-era definitions of Security and Surprise quoted above highlight a point made more emphatically in earlier versions—that these two principles are reciprocal. Clausewitz, in fact, links them together and subsumes security as an element of surprise.² They are also intimately related to the other principles. For example, in their introduction to German General Waldemar Erfurth’s 1938 treatise on Surprise, the translators comment that surprise is not luck. “At bottom,” they state, “the strategy of surprise is nothing but an application of the principle of Economy of Force.”³ General Erfurth himself ties it into Mass and Maneuver. “Absolute superiority everywhere is unattainable,” he observes, “hence it must frequently be replaced by relative superiority somewhere. To achieve relative superiority somewhere is the main objective of almost all military movements and the essential purpose of generalship. Since relative superiority will hardly be accomplished if the enemy knows the plan of concentration before the hour of attack, the principle of surprise is of importance equal to that of the principle of concentration [what we call the principle of Mass].”⁴ He also ties it into Unity of Command. “Frequently, surprise reduces the unity of the enemy forces, and induces the commanders of the enemy army to issue conflicting orders.… Modern wars offer many examples of panic, which led to the frantic flight of whole armies.”⁵

We have noted earlier that all the principles of war have both tactical and strategic application. Clausewitz notes that while Surprise as a key element of success in war is highly attractive in theory, it is difficult to achieve in practice. “Basically surprise is a tactical device,” he says. “It is very rare … the one state surprises another, either by an attack or by preparations for war.”⁶ The reason why strategic surprise is a rarity, says Clausewitz, is that “preparation for war usually takes months. Concentrating troops at their main assembly points generally requires the installation of supply dumps and depots, as well as considerable troop movements, whose purpose can be guessed soon enough.”⁷ General Erfurth’s analysis of modern warfare agrees with that assessment:

The history of modern war shows that the chances of strategic surprise are small indeed. The question might therefore be asked whether in a war which is fought by many millions of soldiers strategic surprises are still possible at all.…

In modern times, secrecy can be maintained only with great difficulties … As a remedy, every military plan should be executed with extreme speed. Unfortunately at present ideas can not be followed by action as quickly as in earlier wars. The movements of mass armies and the regrouping of large forces require much time. A great time-lag between the conception of a plan and its execution is unavoidable. This time-lag evidently must affect secrecy …

Strategic surprise, therefore, in the 20th century became the most difficult military undertaking.… When military preparations must be undertaken in vast areas and over many months, if not years, the maintenance of a military secret must be regarded as an extraordinary achievement.⁸

Both Clausewitz and Erfurth see the necessity for a prior materiel buildup as inhibiting strategic surprise. But there is another dimension to warfare. In his discussion on Surprise Clausewitz notes: “One more observation needs to be made, which goes to the very heart of the matter. Only the commander who imposes his will can take the enemy by surprise.” He goes on to say that:

If general moral superiority enables one opponent to intimidate and out-distance the other, he can use surprise to greater effect, and may even reap the fruits of victory where ordinarily he might expect to fail.⁹

Given the fact that strategic surprise is a rarity, it is remarkable that the Vietnam war contained three instances of such surprise. One was directed against us—the Tet Offensive of 1968. Two were directed against the North Vietnamese—the U.S. decision to intervene with ground combat forces in 1965 and the “Christmas bombing” of Hanoi and Haiphong in 1972. None of these three strategic surprises involved materiel factors. In each instance the other side knew that their adversary possessed the necessary physical capabilities. What was achieved was psychological surprise—the unexpected exercise of one commander’s will on the other. As Clausewitz had predicted, these surprises had great effect.

Policy makers in Hanoi were … dead wrong in believing Washington would neither carry the air war into North Vietnam nor inject ground forces into the South. At the time, though, these were not bad assumptions.… Americans, including military leaders had been for years proclaiming the folly of engaging in a land war on the Asian continent. Indeed, many Americans themselves had been convinced by political statements promising that the United States would not get enmeshed on the ground in Vietnam. That very August [1964], as a matter of fact, President Johnson had announced publicly that he would not consider bombing North Vietnam or “committing American boys to fighting a war that I think ought to be fought by the boys of Asia to help protect their own land.”

Just as the North Koreans, listening to American pronouncements in 1950, had become convinced that the United States would not make a stand for Korea, so was North Vietnam convinced fourteen years later that America would not fight for Vietnam.¹⁰

For one of the few times in the war the United States struck directly at the North Vietnamese center of gravity. To return again to Palmer’s analysis:

Having been at least partially convinced by the oft repeated American statement that the war in Vietnam must be waged by Vietnamese, the leaders in Hanoi were dumbstruck by Washington’s reaction. Consternation and disbelief were their initial reactions. Aspirations for early victory dimmed as U.S. units streamed ashore¹¹.

Strategic surprise had been achieved and in the 1965 Battle of the Ia Drang the North Vietnamese invasion had been thrown off the track. Unfortunately, as we have seen, the United States did not exploit its advantage.

The answer is more psychological than military, more emotional than professional. They were victims of their own sturdy optimism and of General Giap’s shrewd staging of his deception campaign.

Ever since the turning point at the Battle of the Ia Drang, the fighting had been going well for the Allies. They had won every encounter. North Vietnamese and Viet Cong forces plainly were unable to overcome the firepower and mobility edge possessed by the Americans. By late 1967, Allied forces were near the peak of their strength while the communists were staggering noticeably, especially after their most recent maulings. It was inconceivable that the battered foe could bounce off the mat to deliver a punch capable of knocking out its opponent, incomprehensible that he should even want to try. Articulating the attitude of the vast majority of military men in Vietnam, a U.S. Army intelligence officer, who had seen and discounted all the evidence of an offensive against the cities, was quoted as admitting, “If we’d gotten the whole battle plan, it wouldn’t have been credible to us.”¹²

In earlier chapters we saw that as a tactical offensive, Tet 68 was a resounding failure for the North Vietnamese. But we also saw that it was a strategic success against our center of gravity—American public opinion and the American political leadership. Discussing the effects of the Tet Offensive, W. Scott Thompson and Donaldson D. Frizzell commented that:

General Giap’s offensive drove a wedge between optimistic public pronouncements and the realities as seen on American television. In spite of the generally good performance of the ARVN, the war began to look hopeless and irrational to the American people and to American leaders. In Washington, the net effect of Tet was to convince our leaders that success in our goals in Vietnam could not be attained by military means.

After Tet there was a golden opportunity to exploit the weakness of the enemy. Instead, Washington reacted with an investigation into charges that American forces had been taken by surprise in the coordinated attacks. There was an opportunity at this point in the war to convert military success into meaningful political gain. Instead, our resolve obviously wavered, we began to fold our hands and started looking for a way out of the war.¹³

The final strategic surprise in Vietnam was the so-called “Christmas bombing” of Hanoi and Haiphong in 1972. Earlier, in May 1972, the United States had resumed bombing of the Hanoi area in order to “force North Vietnam to realize the futility of trying to conquer South Vietnam by force.” This bombing was halted in October 1972 when the North Vietnamese indicated their willingness to negotiate. According to Air Force General William W. Momyer, then commander of the Tactical Air Command, the North Vietnamese began stalling the negotiations as soon as the bombing had ended. “As for the suspension of the bombing campaign,” he said, “the North Vietnamese evidently interpreted it (as they had interpreted earlier suspensions) to be an indication of weakness and lack of resolve.”¹⁴ The North Vietnamese had good reason for their interpretation. American media reaction to the bombing had been one of outrage. Congressional criticism was virulent and there was heavy public pressure on the President to stop the bombing. But what the North Vietnamese could not anticipate was the will of the American Commander in Chief. In a 9 May 1972 memorandum to his National Security Advisor, President Nixon said, “We have the power to destroy [North Vietnamese] warmaking capacity. The only question is whether we have the will to use that power. What distinguishes me from [President] Johnson is that I have the will in spades.”¹⁵ As Clausewitz had said, “Only the commander who imposes his will can take the enemy by surprise.” On 18 December 1972, President Nixon directed an all-out air campaign against North Vietnam’s heartland to force a settlement of the war. According to General Momyer:

For the first time, B-52s were used in large numbers to bring the full weight of airpower to bear. What airmen had long advocated as the proper employment of airpower was now the President’s strategy—concentrated use of all forms of airpower to strike at the vital power centers, causing maximum disruption in the economic, military, and political life of the country.…

The 11-day campaign came to a close on the 29th of December 1972 when the North Vietnamese responded to the potential threat of continued air attacks to the economic, political, social, and military life of their country. It was apparent that alrpower was the decisive factor leading to the peace agreement of 15 January 1973.¹⁶

Proof of the fact that the principles of war are guides to judgment and not ironclad rules is the paradox that the United States was able to achieve strategic surprise because of a lack of strategic security. In both instances the North Vietnamese were misled by the wealth of information they had available on American public and Congressional opinion.

3. General Waldemar Erfurth, Surprise, translation of Die Ueberraschung im Krieg (Berlin, 1938), by Dr. Stefan T. Possony and Daniel Vilfroy (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Military Service Publishing Company, 1943), p. 5.

4. Ibid, p. 40. Note that Erfurth could have substituted “security” for “surprise” and not lost the meaning of his observation.

CHAPTER 13

SECURITY AND SURPRISE