Caught Between a Rock and a Fortified Place:
The Strategic Hamlet Program, 1961-1963
The American and South Vietnamese effort to pacify rural, southern Vietnam, from 1961 to 1963, is popularly referred to as the Strategic Hamlet Program. Although there were several other names for many different pacification programs, initiated concurrently with the Strategic Hamlet Program, the period from 1961 to 1963, is conceptually linked to this “national plan.” The title fosters misinterpretation, as it tends to elicit images of fortified villages in the distant reaches of the Vietnamese countryside. While such images are relevant, the Strategic Hamlet Program actually denotes a comprehensive effort to pacify rural South Vietnam, with its core component being the construction and defense of fortified villages or hamlets. While the program obviously failed, as the entire war was eventually lost, it deserves special attention. Was the program a sound strategy that failed due to external factors or poor execution? Or was the plan doomed from the beginning because it alienated the very peasants it was meant to derive loyalty? This paper analyzes the specifics of the program and the causes of its failure, concluding a lack of both organizational continuity and coordination among its different decision-making entities undermined the original spirit of the plan.
By early 1961, the situation in Vietnam, according to President Kennedy, was “critical.”1 Kennedy’s appraisal was consistent with that of most of those in Washington following the situation. Over the previous four years North Vietnamese-supported insurgents in South Vietnam, the National Liberation Front (NLF), grew exponentially. Numbering around 16,000, the NLF, referred to by anti-communist forces as Viet Cong (VC), firmly held the initiative in South Vietnam.2 Viet Cong forces were organized, motivated and connected intimately with the local population, three attributes which the South Vietnamese armed forces (ARVN) sorely lacked. The year leading up to the implementation of the Strategic Hamlet Program saw rampant assassinations and kidnappings of notable pro-GVN (American supported South Vietnamese government) officials and civilians.3 Large areas of territory outside urban centers were politically dominated, allowing VC insurgents to operate with relative impunity. As a result, the VC had firm control of the rural peasantry. As an ARVN (South Vietnamese Armed Forces) Brigadier General said, “To our side as well as the enemy, the rural area of South Vietnam was to be the decisive battlefield.”4 With the pro-Diem portion of the population essentially besieged in the major cities, the Saigon government found itself in a precarious position.
The communist goal, in the south, as one North Vietnamese historian articulated, was clear: “In addition to smashing the control system of the puppet tyrants, the masses set up their own self-government, administration and armed forces.”5 The President of South Vietnam, Ngo Dihn Diem, was faced with a tremendously difficult situation. Diem stood little chance of consolidating actual political control over his country so long as the majority of its land was under the political control of an insurgency. As an internal, U.S. Government report put it, “The operative question was not whether the Diem government… could defeat the insurgents, but whether it could save itself.”6 The nature of the communist opposition would be something that eventually proved extremely difficult for American advisers to counter. The problem in Vietnam, essentially, was political, not military. Merely winning conventional battles was simply not enough. Policy makers did see military operations as necessary; however, they were viewed to be a component of the over-arching effort to establish genuine, permanent political control of the entire country.
Many involved with the United States’ effort to assist South Vietnam realized early that the North Vietnamese were not fighting a conventional war. A prominent U.S. General concluded,
“The purpose of [the communist] military strategy… was apparently not to capture the nation by force. Rather, in concert with non-military means, it was to produce a political crisis which would topple the government and bring to power a group willing to contemplate the unification of Vietnam on Hanoi’s terms.”7
Whether U.S. advisers would tailor their advice to this interpretation was yet to be seen, but the attitude of strategists and policy makers going into the conflict was one that augured a counterinsurgency approach. By the time the U.S., under Kennedy, had decided to intervene, “pacification,” which essentially meant converting the peasants loyalty to the VC into loyalty for Diem, was judged to be the strategy that would save Diem’s regime. Ironically, pacification had already been attempted, and failed, under the designation “agroville” by Diem’s government. As the Agroville Program unfolded, it had the attention of American strategists and policy makers, preparing to inherit the onerous responsibility.
The Agroville Program, implemented by Diem in 1959, was a failed attempt at pacification that immediately preceded the American led effort starting in 1961. As Diem himself explained,
“…this year I propose to create densely populated settlement areas in the countryside, where conditions are favorable to communication and sanitation and where minimum facilities for the grouping of the farmers living in isolation and destitution in the back country exist.”8
This bout of cultural arrogance, unwittingly loaded with incendiary rhetoric towards rural peasants, underscores Diem’s attitude about stability: “winning over” the people is secondary to controlling them. This political philosophy would later plague the Strategic Hamlet program, as it clashed directly with the American emphasis on increasing government popularity among the peasantry. The heart of the plan was the regrouping of sparsely distributed, rural peasants into agrovilles and linking them by “strategic routes.”9 However, the agrovilles were only one component of a more comprehensive plan to overhaul rural society, which likely adulterated its intended pacification efficacy. Central to the priorities of the new program were the problems of corrupt or incompetent local officials, and the difficulty of rural tax collection. Regrouping and “securing” the populace would, in theory, isolate them from the VC, therefore eroding the latter’s influence, thereby increasing support for the GVN.
Abandoned in 1961, Agroville’s spirit lived on in the form of the Strategic Hamlet Program initiated later the same year. The official end of the Agroville Program is nebulous. For instance, in the Pentagon Papers’ chronology of pacification in Vietnam, there is an entry for each the initiation and modification of the program, but there is none for its end. The plan was simply abandoned in favor of the concurrently developing Strategic Hamlet Program. Writing about the transition from Agroville to the Strategic Hamlet Program in late 1962, a policy analyst wrote,
The conspicuous unpopularity of the [Agroville] program is not, however, proof that the agroville concept was bad. One could argue that, given the situation, it would ultimately be an advantage to the people involved, even if they were forced to do what they did not wish to do…. As the strategic hamlet program unfolds, it will be possible to determine what the government has learned from the agroville experience.”10
Therefore, the Strategic Hamlet Program had a recent precedent, and policy makers and strategists certainly were not charting new territory in pioneering the new program.
In late 1961, the United States decided to significantly increase aid to South Vietnam in the forms of capital, technology, weapons, training and advice. In return for aid, the United States wanted more influence in strategy, as they did not trust the GVN to continue handling the war. Then Vice President, Lyndon Johnson, was sent to Saigon to consult with the GVN in order to determine the best possible strategy to strengthen Diem’s stability and image.11 American strategists were committed to the idea that Diem’s unpopularity mattered. So, in order to avoid contributing to the communist propaganda, labeling Diem a “puppet,” U.S. strategists decided to confine themselves to a “limited partnership.”12 Having to balance the positive influence they exerted against any overtly conspicuous leadership made for a delicate but crucial undertaking for American advisers. While they did not trust the GVN to succeed on aid alone, which would amount to a blank check, American advisers understood if they appeared to the Vietnamese as just another imperialist overseer, it would be detrimental to their efforts. While the Unites States preferred to exert more influence, they were, because of Vietnam’s colonial history, ultimately at the mercy of GVN decisions.
One of the first problems the American advisers tackled was the issue of national coordination. The Americans concluded that the GVN had no national plan, and the formulation of the Counterinsurgency Plan for Vietnam (CIP) was designed to change that. According to the Pentagon Papers,
“The plan was an attempt to specify roles and relationships within GVN in the counterinsurgency effort, to persuade Diem to abandon his bilineal chain of command in favor of a single command line with integrated effort at all levels within the government, and to create the governmental machinery for coordinated national planning.”13
This three part plan was meant to organize the GVN into a coherent instrument for counterinsurgency, convince Diem to streamline command under him, and provide the bureaucratic infrastructure to facilitate and promote the superior coordination that the plan was intended to create. This was undoubtedly inspired by the recent failure of the Agroville Program, of which many aspects were very attractive to American strategists. While these recommendations made perfect sense to the Americans, President Diem resisted them bitterly. Diem felt that in order to maintain his power, the military must be kept disorganized enough to prevent their potential capability of mounting a coup.14 As the Strategic Hamlet Program developed, Diem would become an obstacle to much more than national coordination.
Similar to the aforementioned three aspects of the CIP, there were three chronological phases as well. The first phase was meant to gather sound intelligence. Topics of interest included the economic needs of peasants, ideas to promote political reform, and development, based on local context of deployment strategies for potential military aid. The Military Assistance Advisory Group (MAAG), the body responsible for the drafting of the program, understood the need to obtain good intelligence in key areas so that when resources were available, they would be more efficiently disbursed. This phase was called the “preparatory phase.”15 The second phase, referred to as the “military phase,” would entail clearing selected target areas of VC forces in preparation for phase three. Phase three, or the “security phase,” would prove to be the most complicated. This phase involved not only maintaining security in the cleared areas, but also required a re-orientation of the populace so that they support Diem. During this phase, intelligence on the social, economic and security needs would be finally applied. Eventually, it was hoped, local civilians would be able to take the political reigns of their villages, as the economic and social programs were to be instituted to gradually improve peasant life. This phase was intended to create and maintain loyalty of the peasantry, thus establishing political control.16
Not only was the timing of phases considered crucial by planners, but the selection of provinces and timing of expansion was too. American planners had originally wanted to start small and methodically expand the effort, only when progress had been established. The highest priority was given to six provinces around Saigon and Kontum and the CIP was to be implemented and established there before anywhere else. The second geographical stage, which wasn’t originally supposed to start until the next year, was to be a “southward expansion” from each aforementioned area. The third stage was to expand progress into the northeast of Saigon17 The planned delay in the expansion of this program is very significant as it reflects the importance that the planners of the Strategic Hamlet Program put on first establishing control over a smaller and less ambitious area, so that progress can be more easily appraised and efforts can be concentrated into smaller areas. This was to allow for a gradual increase in genuine, permanent support for the Diem regime, so that when focus was finally shifted elsewhere, the pacified areas would be resistant to a resurgent communist influence.
While the American’s believed a gradual, staged implementation to be extremely important to the overall success of the Strategic Hamlet Program, Diem and Nhu perceived the program much differently. The American advisers were looking at Vietnam as a battleground in the Cold War. Therefore, their perspective with regards to policy making was focused on ways to defeat the Communist insurgency first, which led them to consider all other political aspects as external or supporting to the main focus; counterinsurgency. Naturally, the native Vietnamese, whether anti-communist or not, were interested in Vietnam’s future first, and defeating opposition was a considered a component of this. In other words, while anti-communist forces fought desperately to destroy the insurgency it was not because of their belief in the American “domino theory,” rather it out of a desire for a different future for their homeland. According to Phillip Catton, the Ngos viewed the program as the medium to overhaul rural Vietnamese society and, as a result, bring Vietnam into their version of the modern era.18
While the lasting, popular perception characterizes Diem to be a tyrannical, ultra-conservative autocrat, primarily interested in self-aggrandizement, Catton argues, convincingly, that the president was principally driven by his personalist vision for the future of Vietnam. The Strategic Hamlet Program fit perfectly with Diem’s vision. Catton argues,
Diem’s government, in fact, had it’s own views of how to deal with the related issues of counterinsurgency and nation building, forward-looking ideas which, although deeply flawed, constituted a distinct vision of modernity and presented an alternative to the political agenda of both his regime’s US ally and his Communist opposition…. As an organizational framework for promoting this struggle, (the effort to modernize Vietnam through a personalist revolution) the hamlet programme sought to generate a revolution in four areas: military, social, political, and economic.”19
So then, along with their initiation of the Strategic Hamlet Program, the Ngos obviously owned much more comprehensive intentions, beyond exclusively counterinsurgency operations. This represented a strategic departure from American designs as Washington was concerned more with slowing the spread of international communism and less with Vietnam’s hypothetical personalist future. The Ngos wanted an anti-communist revolution to spread over the entire country, for the dual purposes of strategic, military concerns and a fundamental transformation of Vietnamese rural society. The inconsistency between perspectives of both Diem’s government and American policy makers represented a fundamental flaw in the allied pacification effort.
Even with all the incongruities, the Vietnamese reaction to the American plan was mixed. While the Diem government strongly approved the fundamental concept of the plan, they disagreed on the issues of organization and implementation.20 Demonstrating the American perception of Diem’s “non-compliance,” an author of the Pentagon Papers writes, “President Diem may have been whistling in the dark about a new plan of his own.”21 While the Americans were frustrated with his noncooperation, Diem was dedicated to self-determination in the implementation of the plan, that would, as the Ngos reasoned, lay the foundation for a utopian, modern Vietnam. While the Americans believed strongly in the importance of linear command and tight organization, (the eventual failure of the program would later be, at least partially, pinned on these aspects) the Ngos believed the intangible effects the “revolution” was supposed to have (i.e., pride in communal participation, feeling of self-worth from participation in state struggle, leading to nationalist fervor) meant that simultaneous implementation in the most critical provinces was preferable.22
While the fundamental concept of the Strategic Hamlet Program was multi-staged and complex, the hamlets themselves were relatively simple. The most heavily fortified version of a strategic hamlet (there were three versions) were sometimes primitively fortified.
“In these strategic hamlets…a group of hamlets are largely or entirely surrounded by extensive earthworks. These include a ditch about 5 feet deep and 10 feet wide at the top and a rampart of corresponding dimensions, both studded with bamboo spears that project about 1-1/2 feet. In addition, outside the ditch they usually have a fence of cut bamboo or wooden pickets, though occasionally there will be barbed wire fence strung between concrete posts instead.”23
Usually these fortified areas were equipped with radio communications, though many were not. Also, interconnecting transportation was deemed important by American planners who, as mentioned above, championed coordination and central command and support. Secure transportation was seen as essential to a coordinated, organized counterinsurgency effort. However, this endeavor proved extremely difficult, as one report notes. “Defending long stretches of road is costly, in men and money. There is one alternative to defending roads, and one which the U.S. Has been directly supporting—avoid using the roads.”24 And while air-support could remedy this when government or army convoys required protected, unsecured roads were used by civilians, which meant strategic hamlets could be besieged, therefore breaching the isolation the counterinsurgency was hoping to establish between rural peasants and the VC.
The Strategic Hamlet Program’s organization, that ended up taking shape by 1962, was not what the American planners had envisioned. Province and district chiefs were appointed directly from Saigon, leaving a gap between the local populace and process. Village and Hamlet chiefs were locally elected, but they were generally out of the loop in terms of the organization of a contiguous, national plan. While province and district chiefs were usually educated, military men, locally elected village chiefs were rarely educated, and in many cases illiterate.25 Paid extremely little, these village chiefs were under constant threat of assassination. They also had no real influence in changing national policy as the program was very top-down oriented. This meant that village chiefs, the only ones in the actual Strategic Hamlet Program organizational framework with a genuine, intimate connection to the areas they were responsible for, were underpaid, under the direct, micro-managerial control of military men who were social interlopers in the countryside and competitively deferential to the Ngos’ political whims and under constant threat of being murdered.
The defense of these strategic hamlets was to be put under both the Civil Guard (similar to the American National Guard) and the Self Defense Corps (similar to the British Home Guard during World War Two). The Civil Guard was originally meant to be used for defense of each village or hamlet, but many times, this was left to the Self Defense Corps as the former was used in offensive sweeps. One analyst sent to Vietnam to assess the program noted, “This seems, to me at least, not to be the purpose for which they were originated.”26 Perhaps this expanded role was due to, as Catton argued, Diem’s philosophy, emphasizing civilian cooperation. “By placing the primary responsibility for military defense on the general populace, the regime hoped to kindle a sense of communal solidarity and national consciousness.”27 This represents yet another example of how fundamental perceptions of policy manifest themselves during its execution. The Ngos did not want to alter the command structure and were not interested in a unified command. They believed the disunity of command underneath them to be necessary to maintain their grip on Vietnam. In the meantime, however, the Americans were scrambling for ways to convince Diem to make his command structure more agreeable with the specific demands of counterinsurgency and pacification.
Diem’s coup paranoia was not the only reason that planned coordination and organization never materialized under his watch. Diem’ decision to significantly accelerate the expansion of fortified and strategic hamlet construction, as opposed to what the Americans preferred, was a significant roadblock to a unified, effective command structure as well.28
“… the program was truly one of GVN initiative rather than one embodying priorities and time phasing recommended by the U.S…. The geographic dispersion of the hamlets already reported to be completed indicated that there was, in fact, a conscious effort to implement this phase almost simultaneously throughout the entire nation rather than to build slowly as Diem’s foreign advisors recommended.”29
Diem’s decision to accelerate construction, according to American analysts, represented one of the chief reasons for the program’s failure. However, the Americans could do little as they understood, at least partially, that the initiative must remain with the GVN. North Vietnamese propaganda, that the Ngos were simply puppets of the latest imperial power, had the attention of fence-sitting South Vietnamese civilians. After all, had not the French been lectured during their time in Indochina about the necessity to hand over autonomy to the Vietnamese? How would it look then, for the Americans to act in a way that flew in the face of their own rhetoric? This war had to be a Vietnamese war with American backing, not the other way around. That meant that the Diem’s personalist vision would remain a factor in the implementation of the Strategic Hamlet Program, as it obstructed many measures the Americans thought crucial.
The idealistic, grandiose notions of the Americans and the Ngos were not usually translated into reality once the program was underway. The Ngos’ idea that the Strategic Hamlet program would unleash a revolutionary spirit which would pull the country together against communist insurgents was not realized. Instead many peasants were further alienated by the program as the “communal labor,” that was purported by the Ngos to be a fundamental and necessary part of their revolution, seemed more like slave labor to the peasants actually tasked with carrying it out. As was witnessed with the Agroville Program, peasants were, many times, forced to give up their land, which they considered sacred, and fundamental to their existence. As a report on Strategic Hamlet, done in September 1962, shows, the results of social and cultural overhaul are initially ugly.
“Here the peasants are paying for the project in the form of obligatory communal labor on digging and construction, through the consequently reduced yield of secondary crops, by the contribution of local materials including bamboo, and by payments for the purchase of concrete fence posts and barbed wire. They also have to sacrifice the land put out of cultivation by earthworks.”30
Rural peasants, who were supposed to be secured and brought under the influence of the Diem regime, for the eventual purpose of gaining their loyalty, were being forced to participate in a program that ran contrary to their most essential values and desires. Farm ownership and upkeep made up the backbone of rural peasant culture. When the Diem government assumed their personalist social revolution would capture the hearts and minds of rural peasants and bring about Vietnamese modernity, they severely underestimated, due to cultural arrogance, how important it was for farmers to be able to farm their land.
One of the fundamental aspects of the Strategic Hamlet program was relocation. As a RAND corporation report in August 1963 put it, “With the distribution of people it has been difficult to extend government control to these people or to defend them from Viet-Cong attack. The strategic hamlet program attempts to relocate these people into small defended areas.”31 Both the Diem government and American advisers had determined that the peasant population (who’s loyalty was to be gained) had to be isolated from the VC. However, as this excerpt of the Pentagon Papers makes clear, relocation may have done more harm than good.
“The new program got off to a bad start. The government was able to persuade only seventy families to volunteer for resettlement. The 135 other families in the half dozen settlements were herded forcibly from their homes. Little of the $300,000 in local currency provided by USOM had reached the peasants; the money was being withheld until the resettled families indicated they would not bolt the new hamlet…. Their old dwellings—and many of their possessions—were burned behind them.”32
The drawbacks of relocation were either glossed over or ignored entirely by most of the military and civilian counterinsurgency apparatus. There was the assumption that “… the Viet-Cong [once the SHP had been implemented] now have to attack a defended hamlet– a direct attack on the people themselves.”33 This particular analyst reasoned, “The Viet-Cong are faced with with a dilemma. Their propaganda proclaims they are ‘fighting for the people.’ How can they be ‘fighting for the people’ if they attack a strategic hamlet?”34 There are two serious flaws with this logic. First, the United States and ARVN were doing their fair share of attacking civilians in the name of “fighting for the people.” As a New York Times article reported in 1965, indiscriminate targeting of hamlets and villages by American and ARVN forces was a common occurrence. “But another American official says, ‘Nothing is doing more to lose the war for us here than the indiscriminate use of air power.”35
Forced relocation and indiscriminate bombing highlight the failure of American and South Vietnamese forces to actually “win over” the peasantry. While much of the rhetoric during the planning stages (before the actual implementation of the SHP) seemed to indicate the loyalty of the people was considered crucial, many of the actions taken during the Strategic Hamlet Program did more to alienate them. For example, even though many counterinsurgency strategists, like Robert Thompson, stressed the importance of village level police action, the program was carried out with inconsistent emphasis. For instance, due to the disunity of the command structure, some regions put more emphasis on physical fortifications and lapsed in political reform. Other areas neglected viable transportation routes but implemented meaningful social programs.36 Inconsistency of this nature pervaded the national effort as different organizations within the command structure emphasized their forte. Military advisors preferred military solutions, while American policy makers were more concerned with political aspects of pacification.37 Such uneven focus led to, for instance, the neglect of the Civil Guard and Self Defense Corps, resulting in them being “poorly trained and equipped, miserably led, and incapable of coping with insurgents…”38
This situation was exponentially exacerbated by the fact that pacification ultimately had to be carried out by the South Vietnamese, who had their own points of emphasis. This amounted to a scenario which greatly reduced the effectiveness of The Strategic Hamlet Program. However, there is no way to really determine whether or not the Strategic Hamlet Program was a concept that would have or could have eventually worked. It must be remembered that the 1963 coup that ended the Ngo dynasty, effectively halted the Strategic Hamlet Program for the time being. While, at the time of the coup, there was genuine enthusiasm within the GVN for the basic strategic concept the program represented, virtually all of it hinged on the Ngo’s concept of a personalist, modern Vietnam. These specific aspirations effectively died with the Ngo brothers as the following regimes had, in their eyes, much more pressing concerns. Therefore, the program was never allowed to succeed or fail on its own.
Additionally, it is difficult to determine the worth of the program as there was never one, definitive version. The original plans had to be modified for the purpose of compromise. Were some of the points of compromise deleterious to the main effort? Without trial and error, it will likely never be known. However, meaningful deductions can be made from a critical analysis of the program. For instance, though the program was intended to isolate the populace from the insurgency, it did not. Political cadres were able to establish and maintain a shadow government without significant aid from heavily armed VC forces.39 However, had the social and political programs been properly funded, as originally planned, it is reasonable to infer that may have enervated the VC political cadre’s effort. Even relocation might have eventually worked. If the above mentioned programs were properly implemented and isolation from the VC was attained, the problem of defecting to the VC would be diminished. Also, had the plan been more gradual, it may have stood a better chance holding its gains, instead of precipitously collapsing in 1963.
In conclusion, while there were several critical flaws with the implementation of the Strategic Hamlet program, due to the absence of coordination among its different entities and ineffective command structure, it is not conclusive that the basic concept is a failure. There were simply too many variables and mistakes made to conclude the plan to be a fundamental failure. Perhaps the authors of the Pentagon Papers had it right when they concluded their summary with the phrase “case not proved.”40
1Herring, George. America’s Longest War: The United States and Vietnam. McGraw-Hill, Inc. 1979. pp 73
2Sheehan, Neil. A Bright Shining Lie: John Paul Vann and America in Vietnam. New York: Random House, 1988. pp 195
3Pentagon Papers: Gravel Edition. Volume 2, Chapter 2, “The Strategic Hamlet Program, 1961-1963,” pp 136
4Tran Dihn Tho. Pacification. Indochina Refugee Authored Monograph Program. McLean, Virginia: General Research Corporation, 1977. Pp 3
5The Anti-U.S. Resistance War For National Salvation 1954-1975: Military Events. By the War Experiences Recapitulation Committee of the High-Level Institute, People’s Army Publishing House, Hanoi, 1980 Trans. Foreign Broadcast Information Service pp. 38
6Pentagon Papers. Pp 136
8Diem quoted in Zasloff, Joseph. Rural Resettlement in South Vietnam: The Agroville Program. Pacific Affairs, Vol. 35, No. 4 (Winter, 1962-1963), pp 327
9Ibid. pp 331
10Zasloff, Joseph. Rural Resettlement in South Vietnam: The Agroville Program. pp. 339,340
11Pentagon Papers. Pp 137
12Ibid. pp 138
14Sheehan, Neil. A Bright Shining Lie: John Paul Vann and America in Vietnam. pp. 331
15Pentagon Papers. Pp. 139
17Ibid. pp. 139
18Catton, Phillip. Counter-Insurgency and Nation Building: The Strategic Hamlet Programme in South Vietnam, 1961-1963. The International History Review. Vol. 21, No. 4 (Dec. 1999). pp 919
19Ibid. pp 919 and 928
20Pentagon Papers. Pp. 140
21Ibid. pp 140.
22Catton, Phillip. Counter-Insurgency and Nation Building
23Farmer, James. Counter-Insurgency Viet-Nam: 1962-1963. Santa Monica, CA: RAND Corporation publication. pp. 4
24Ibid. Pp 18
25Ibid. Pp 7
26Ibid. Pp. 9
27Catton, Phillip. Counter-Insurgency and Nation Building Pp. 929
28Ibid. Pp. 19-20
29Pentagon Papers. Pp. 139-140.
30Donnel, John and Hickey, Gerald. The Vietnamese “Strategic Hamlets”: A Preliminary Report. RAND Report sponsored by the USAF. September 1962. Pp. vii
31Farmer, James. Counter-Insurgency Viet-Nam: 1962-1963. pp 6
32Pentagon Papers. Pp. 151
33Ibid. Pp 6
34Ibid. Pp 6
35Mohr, Charles. Air Strikes Hit Vietcong—And South Vietnam Civilians. New York Times. Sep. 5, 1965. Pp E4
36Pentagon Papers. several pages.
37Ibid. Pp. 129
38Nagl, John. Learning to Eat Soup with a Knife: Counterinsurgency Lessons from Malaya and Vietnam. Chicago: The Chicago University Press, 2002.Pp. 121
39Andrade, Dale and Willbanks, (Colonel) James. CORDS/Phoenix: Counterinsurgency Lessons from Vietnam for the Future. Military Review, March-April 2006. Pp. 17
40Pentagon Papers. Pp. 130