From the clash of Roman Legions with the wild tribes of Gaul, to the quick, deadly ambushes of the Vietnam conflict, there has been one constant: the great difficulty experienced by regular forces in understanding and effectively reacting to guerrilla warfare.
“Revolutionary war,” with its emphasis on political action and subversion, has made the modern counter-guerrilla’s task even more difficult. Armies have been retrained and equipped, regulars have been lectured on the ways of the guerrilla, and special courses have been put together with all the benefits of technological data gathering. The results, unfortunately, often fall short of the desired goal. It is as if a new branch, grafted onto a weather-tested tree, gradually withers and dies because of a natural incompatibility. Psychological attitudes have played a considerable role in this rejection process.
In Western society, the professional soldier’s training, tradition and code of honor have built a wall between him and the complicated world of national and international politics. He is trained to fight, to protect his homeland, and to perform these tasks to the best of his professional ability. Once in uniform, even the draftee or conscript follows this code.
In modern guerrilla warfare the professional soldier finds himself up against an enemy whose every move or tactic is co-ordinated with political objectives and plans. The traditional procedure of winning a battle or a war against an enemy army and then turning the victory over to the politicians and diplomats has suddenly become obsolete.
The guerrilla’s tactics call for constant political-military action. The counter-guerrilla commander who ignores this rule may win militarily only to find his victory annulled by the enemy’s political triumph.
In such situations the counter-guerrilla’s psychological attitude can be a serious obstacle to success. Tradition and modern technology can combine to do him a disservice. A man trained over a long period of time in military procedures that have proven highly effective will not forego them easily. Rather than change his view-point to meet a new situation, he tends to adapt what he has known and used in the past to fit the new problem. He thus achieves a result of dubious value.
The same man may have profited from the technological advances of military science during his career.
British commanders in Malaya often found it more profitable to train a conscript for counter-guerrilla operations rather than attempt the conversion of a veteran regular into a counter-guerrilla fighter.
Traditionally, the professional regular is faced with a constant temptation to underestimate his guerrilla enemy. There is usually a factor of contempt in such miscalculations. To him, the guerrilla is not really a soldier and he does not fight according to the book There are few manifestations of warfare further from the norm than those carried out by the guerrilla.
General Braddock’s inbred contempt for irregulars led him to ignore George Washington’s warning prior to the ambush of his column by the French and Indians. T. E. Lawrence had to fight the disdain of British professionals before he could obtain arms and supple for his Arab irregulars. The French high command refused to credit the Vietminh with the ability to transport and install artillery in the hills surrounding Dien Bien Phu and the American high command was unprepared for the well organized attacks of the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese during the Tet holiday in 1968. These were all instances of under-estimation, by professionals, of an irregular or unconventional force.
During the Indochina war the term “Viet,” used by the French to describe the Vietminh, evolved from a term of derogation in the mouth of the Saigon staff officer to one of professional respect when used by the Legion officer in the field. Today, the term "Charlie,” referring to the Viet Cong, undergoes much the same change in meaning depending on its user and his experience.
The professional military officer who is suddenly projected into the role of counter-guerrilla commander without adequate preparation and training soon suffers the frustrations common to this type of war. His massive, powerful force, designed and trained to carry out large conventional operations becomes a liability until it can be reorganized and trained in its new task.
With his unit isolated in difficult terrain, its small detachments off hunting guerrilla bands, his supply columns falling into costly ambushes, his responsibility extended to protecting nearby towns and villages, the commander becomes only too aware that he is fighting a different war. An important part of this different war is the role of the population and the counter-guerrilla’s relations with the people.
The People. Nationalism, tradition, ethnic ties, historical precedents, political attitudes and the general psychological state of a people help to determine its basic conduct within or on the fringes of a guerrilla war.
T. E. Lawrence estimated, with keen insight into the Arab culture and character, that he needed only 2% of the population actively involved in the Arab revolt to achieve success if the remaining 98% remained passively sympathetic.
The difficulty and eventual failure experienced by the Chinese-dominated rebels in Malaya was due, in part, to the fact that the majority of the Malay population were hostile or, at the least, in passive opposition to their activities.
If, as Mao states, the people are the water in which the guerrilla fish must swim, it is no less true that the counter-guerrilla must bait and cast his line in the same water for a catch of prime importance—intelligence information.
Without intelligence information a counter-guerrilla force is a piece of machinery minus an essential part. But intelligence information must come from the people and the counter-guerrilla must find the best mix of chum to bring them closer to his line. Sound government, civic action programs, land reform, medical assistance, and guaranteed security can all go into the mix but the proportions must be correct.
Guerrilla warfare experts Peter Paret and John Shy state that:
Although there may be a limited role for counter-guerrilla guerrillas, the great weakness of the mobile striking forces—imperfect tactical intelligence—is better corrected by the creation of local militia. But neither pro-government guerrillas nor militia can be effective without firm popular support. And this leads to the second concern of counter-guerrilla forces: good troops employing proper tactics cannot make up for an unsound government and political base.
Troop behavior can be as important to the counter-guerrilla commander as any program of civic action in reaching the people. The more widespread the guerrilla movement, the more difficult and frustrating are the daily operations for the individual counter-guerrilla. The hunt drags on through tortuous terrain, under conditions of extreme physical hardship, with the sniper or the mine taking a daily toll in dead and wounded.
The desire to strike back at the guerrilla becomes overwhelming, building into a form of psychosis that can explode at the slightest provocation: the refusal of a villager to respond to a question; a road blocked by an ox cart; the sight of food stocks that might be available to the enemy.
The results of such a fixation can range from the complete destruction of a village to unwarranted beatings and useless arrests. Thus, the counter-guerrilla’s bait becomes tainted, his chum useless, and his hook floats unheeded in an empty sea.
In January 1953, the writer landed on the central coast of South Vietnam with Franco-Vietnamese forces whose task it was to retake the town of Tuy Hoa. The town had been under Vietminh control for several years. A major psychological warfare effort was mounted during this landing but much of its effect was wiped out by the behavior of the troops involved. The following incident, as I then described it, was typical of the operation at Tuy Hoa:
A dusty road leading between the huts was cluttered with woven paniers covered with tiny shrimp and red peppers drying in the sun. Old women moved among the paniers, shaking them occasionally to bring the damper shrimp or peppers to the surface. As we watched, a jeep full of government troops careened around a corner and braked to a stop a foot from the paniers. A young soldier jumped from the jeep. He strode forward kicking the paniers right and left, scattering the shrimp and peppers in the dust. When he had cleared the path the jeep followed along behind him, crushing some of the paniers under its wheels. The soldier jumped back into the jeep and it roared off. Stooping, the old women patiently began salvaging their scattered shrimp and peppers, replacing them in their battered paniers.
Later, a village elder explained the arrival and behavior of the Vietminh. “They came with much rice and rare medicines. They helped us till the fields and they left our young women alone.”
A good civic action program can be completely ruined by poor troop behavior while a faltering civic action program can be saved by proper behavior on the part of counter-guerrilla forces. Care must be taken, however, to ensure that the hard, cutting edge of a counter-guerrilla force is not blunted by over-concentration on civic action projects that should be the prime responsibility of para-military or non-military organizations.
It is easier to hand candy to children and pass blankets to civilians than it is to track the guerrilla through the jungle, and although the counter-guerrilla must be aware of his role as a friend and protector of the population, he must not forget his primary role as the liquidator of a guerrilla movement.
The prime benefit an effective counter-guerrilla force can offer to the population is security. With guaranteed security the people will be more willing to come forward with information. But security is much more complicated than throwing a temporary ring of riflemen around a village. Populations involved in a guerrilla war situation want true security—security not only against raids and extortion by the guerrilla but also against mistreatment by government forces and the armed bands that often proliferate on the fringes of an insurgency.
A counter-guerrilla leader who promises security and cannot provide it will have a very difficult time obtaining support from the people, no matter how lavish his civic action program. President Magsaysay of the Philippines once stated that judiciously applied bribery was “one of the most effective counter-insurgency weapons available to government.” But the measure of a counterguerrilla leader’s success is his ability to blend the open, social improvement projects with efficient clandestine counter-measures.
As in the purely military aspect of guerrilla operations, new methods have to be developed to meet a particular situation when working with the population. Sir Gerald Templer’s use of the village questionnaire during the Malayan insurgency was such an innovation.
British troops entered a village in a zone of guerrilla operations, distributed questionnaires to each house and asked the people to tell what they knew about guerrilla activities and the identity of those supplying the rebels with food. Each villager then had to deposit his questionnaire, completed or not, in a sealed box. The box was personally opened by General Templer in the presence of a few trusted Malayan notables. It was thus impossible for the Min Yuen assassination squads to identify those individuals who actually gave productive information. The first use of the questionnaire resulted in the arrest of 30 Chinese directly or indirectly involved with the rebels. This method immediately broke the psychological barrier of fear that had made normal intelligence gathering all but impossible.
The diverse nature of guerrilla war calls for extreme flexibility on the part of the counter-guerrilla. He must think like his enemy, have an understanding of the enemy’s problems and psychological attitudes and be gifted with an inordinate amount of patience.
The Patience Factor. Perhaps no one quality is more essential to the makeup of a competent counter-guerrilla force and its leaders than patience. The counter-guerrilla is an amalgam of social worker, detective, policeman, and hunter. He must be at ease in civic action, expert in sifting useful details from a bulk of irrelevant information, just and firm as an arm of the law, and skilled in tracking, outwaiting, and liquidating his enemy.
In the winter of 1952, Vietminh units were pressing hard around the Catholic town of Phat Diem in the Delta of Tonkin. Regular French units, supported by Catholic militia, had tried repeatedly but with little success to halt the infiltration of heavy weapons and ammunition. The enemy continued to crush isolated Catholic militia units, execute village leaders, and install their own people in key positions. In desperation, the local French commander, a proud, tradition-bound, Spahi officer, called for help. It came in the form of a small section from the Commando d’Indochine.
The section was made up of French and Vietnamese commandos led by a young captain of mixed blood. They were in startling contrast to the dashing Spahi officers from the local armored unit who watched the new arrivals with condescension and slight curiosity.
The commandos worked in trousers secured over canvas shoes with rubber bands. They wore wool shirts covered by one or two dark sweaters. The only items of uniform one could call regulation were the black berets pushed down on their foreheads.
For four nights they straggled out at dusk toward the deserted villages and rice paddies. Each morning they returned, tired, uncommunicative, and smeared with mud.
On the fifth night a searing rattle of distant small arms fire awoke the sleeping Spahis. Lights flashed on in sector headquarters. There was excited shouting, the revving of motors and the grinding of gears as the Spahis and their armored cars prepared to go to the aid of the commandos.
But the commandos were safe. The infiltrators were dead. Two sampans were floating, bottom up, down a narrow river. Three others had nosed in among the bamboo. The young commando captain was examining the raft his men had swum out to retrieve and the two heavy mortars of Chinese manufacture that were lashed to it. The Vietminh dead sprawled over the cases of bloodstained ammunition or floated face down in the water. Later, as dawn broke, the commando section boarded their trucks and departed.
Within 24 hours, making use of intuition, knowledge of the enemy, and technical expertise, they had located the most likely route of infiltration. They had then invested their great fund of patience. Lying quietly in the mud at the edge of the river, chewing on sticky rice in lieu of smoking cigarettes, they had waited. Their investment had paid off with considerable profit.
Americans, as “doers,” anxious to get on with the job and eager to produce results, often find the patience factor a difficult technique to master in counter-guerrilla operations.
American Attitudes. In a positive sense, Americans can justifiably approach the problems of counter-guerrilla action with a solid base of historical experience. The Kentucky rifleman with his own scalping knife was certainly a counter-guerrilla. Roger’s Rangers adopted the tactics of their elusive enemy during the French and Indian wars and carried out a highly successful form of the “search and destroy” mission.
On the other hand, Americans today stand with both feet solidly planted in an age of massive technological development where science and the computer offer challenges and solutions thought impossible a few short years ago.
Here, in a sense, lies the problem. Guerrilla movements have a way of thumbing their noses at modern technology. Computers can count votes but they have yet to analyze a man’s political sympathy or emotional involvement in a cause. Nor can modern science change, through gadgets and highly sophisticated machinery, the basic task of the counter-guerrilla—to track and eliminate his enemy, often in a situation of personal confrontation.
The Myth of Malaya. In the hurried search for a key to success in counter-guerrilla action during the early 1950s, the myth of Malaya was born. American officials, watching the slow disintegration of the French position in Indochina, flew to Malaya to see how a successful counterinsurgency campaign was being handled and rushed back to Saigon to urge the French to adopt the British methods.
While certain procedures were appropriate for adoption, counter-guerrilla techniques, like certain wines, do not travel well.
The British in Malaya had some prime assets: independence was around the corner and the government could develop a firm national policy on the future of the country; the Malay majority of the population were opposed to the Chinese-dominated rebels; the rebels were isolated from any significant outside aid and their sources of food supply were thus comparatively easy to control.
In addition, the British psychological warfare effort concentrated on explaining to the Malay population that the fight was not between Malay Communists and the security forces, but between the Malayan people and Chinese Communists. Thus the traditional Malay antagonism toward the Chinese and distrust of Chinese motives played into the hands of the government.
Transplanting the techniques that were successful in Malaya and expecting them to thrive in Indochina proved to be a delusion. Moving Chinese squatters from their makeshift shacks on the edge of the Malayan jungle and placing them in an efficiently operated resettlement village was considerably different from uprooting Vietnamese from their ancestral villages and relocating them in a makeshift, inefficiently run refugee camps.
Even more important psychologically, was the fact that the Communist-dominated Vietminh were, to the average Vietnamese, a liberation army made up of Vietnamese fighting colonialism. No amount of propaganda or imported techniques could convince them that independence was just around the corner as long as the French Expeditionary Force remained in Indochina.
Tribal Groups and Ethnic Minorities. Working with another people in combatting an insurgency within their own territory brings new responsibilities and problems for the counter-guerrilla. This is especially true where Western cadres work with tribal groups and ethnic minorities. As guerrillas often operate from an isolated jungle or mountain environment or, in more advanced phases of an uprising, move large units through the cover of jungle or mountains, the inhabitants of such areas become important actors in the insurgency drama.
This has often been true in guerrilla war and it was emphasized again during World War II when mountain people—the Dyaks in Borneo; the Kachins in Burma, and the Meo in Indochina—worked with Allied special forces against the Japanese.
The effectiveness of these small ethnic groups in guerrilla and counter-guerrilla operations is based on their knowledge of terrain, endurance, tracking ability, courage and determination to eliminate unwelcome trespassers. In Malaya, the Senoi Pra’ak, a small aboriginal force numbering not more than 300, killed more guerrillas during the last two years of the insurgency than the total accounted for by all other security forces
The local partisan groups in upper Tonkin and Laos organized by French officers of the Groupements de Commandos Mixtes Aeroporte (GCMA) during the Indochina war reached a total strength of 20,000. The operations of these units permitted the evacuation without losses of the fortified camp of Nasan, the reconquest by Laos of the provinces of Phong Saly and Sam Neua, without the help of regular troops, as well as the interdiction of an important road running directly from Lao Kay, near the Chinese border, to Dien Bien Phu. They also immobilized 14 battalions of Vietminh regulars by their actions and were of invaluable assistance in locating and recovering hundreds of French prisoners.
Despite their loyal service, these local partisans were abandoned at the close of the Indochina war. An unrealistic radio message went out to these groups when the French and the Vietminh reached an agreement in 1954. They were to surrender to the nearest authorities of the People’s Army of North Vietnam. They would then, supposedly, be treated as prisoners of war. A minority of these men led by their French officers managed to fight their way out of the jungles of North Vietnam and Laos. The remainder were not heard from again.
Caught up in a struggle of sophisticated political theories and international intrigue, minority groups are often used by both sides without understanding the issues at stake. Their service and loyalty as counter-guerrillas is often based on a highly personal relationship with the Western officers who may be acting directly or indirectly as their commanders. Much of this attitude is linked with a recent colonial past.
When the 3rd Thai Battalion began to disintegrate at Dien Bien Phu, one whole company deserted when its commander, Captain Guilleminot, was wounded. The Thais felt their bond of fidelity to the French had been severed. They had been fighting for Guilleminot and not for a vague government in Saigon or the abstraction of the world battle between the “Free World” and “Communism.”
The brutal but real dictates of political necessity that force a counter-guerrilla leader to abandon those he has led to the doubtful mercies of the enemy or the vague promises of an unfriendly government can have a serious effect on the man involved, both as a person and as a soldier.
The officers of the French Army who revolted against their government in April of 1961 were products of such a psychological shock. An officer of the Special Administrative Section (SAS) expressed the feeling of his comrades when he stated: “I think of all those who were massacred in Indochina for having believed in France, after having won them to France’s side, after promising not to abandon them . . . of those in Tunisia, true to the end, of those in Morocco . . .”
Although the revolt of French officers in 1961 was an extreme manifestation of military discontent and political uncertainty at the end of a colonial era, much of the individual motivation was based on the personal feeling of having abandoned or deserted those friends with whom one had lived and fought.
No matter what nationalities are involved or what political situation exists, the counter-guerrilla leader must maintain a realistic understanding of his responsibilities in working with tribal groups and ethnic minorities and an awareness of the psychological and human consequences brought on by any sudden change in policy or political accommodation.
During World War II, active guerrilla warfare became the immediate concern of field commanders on both sides of the conflict. It was no longer the sole domain of a small group of experts nor was it limited to a specific geographic location.
Since World War II, guerrilla warfare has remained a constant in a world undergoing rapid political change. In a period of nuclear deterrence guerrillas have been active in Greece, Morocco, Israel, Egypt, Algeria, Angola, Laos, Vietnam, Bolivia, and Venezuela. This list is merely a sampling of guerrilla action in an era of relative international peace.
While it is difficult to predict exactly what direction future guerrilla fighting may take, the lessons of Algiers and, more recently, Saigon, indicate the extent of the real problem posed by the urban guerrilla.
The Urban Guerrilla. There is perhaps no entity quite so vulnerable to guerrilla action as the modern city. It is easy to imagine what a well co-ordinated, violent guerrilla action could mean in terms of utilities destroyed, communications disrupted, administrative services paralyzed and civilians terrorized, wounded, and killed.
General J. M. Nemo, a leading French theorist of revolutionary war, has accurately described the “fragility” of a modern city:
In Europe the complex social life renders the different elements dependent on one another. The administrative machine and the economic organization are cogs in a complex system which it is relatively easy to block. The higher degree to which a country has evolved, and the more complex its structure, the more opportunities it offers for subversive action . . . the European countries are fragile.
In an urban atmosphere the guerrilla, like a chameleon, must undergo changes to fit his new environment. He is so closely integrated with the people that his enemy will have a difficult time isolating him from support and information. On the other hand, his proximity to the authorities and his unavoidable exposure to many individuals will make him extremely vulnerable to detection and betrayal.
The urban guerrilla may also face a more subtle and complicated set of psychological pressures than the guerrilla operating from a mountain base. His presence in a city may put him in close touch with his family, tempting him to carry out repetitive personal contacts of great danger. Involvement in terrorist activities may force him to be a continual witness of the suffering caused by his action.
If his campaign drags on, the controls and severe measures applied by the authorities may tend to irritate the people and eventually draw the population away from the guerrilla as he becomes the cause of their discomfort and privation.
The work of the counter-guerrilla also becomes highly complicated in urban operations. He moves and fights in a jungle of property. Restrictions multiply, many of his weapons become unusable because of political or humanitarian reasons and his prerogatives are limited.
Street and house-to-house fighting in time of war in an evacuated city are difficult. The same type of fighting in a civilian-occupied city is not only difficult, it also multiplies the strain and frustration experienced by the counter-guerrilla.
Troops called into a city can constitute an element that is psychologically divorced from the population and outside the context of a city’s life. Their presence tends to exaggerate the importance of a guerrilla movement and it can trigger fear, if the population is against the movement, or hate, if they support it.
The counter-guerrilla is also faced with the possibility that the guerrilla who is captured or killed in full view of the population has a much better chance of becoming the movement’s martyr than he would have had if his capture or death had occurred in a jungle ambush.
Because an urban guerrilla’s action requires precise planning, split-second timing and dependable liaison, the elimination of the movement’s command element within a city can be a decisive factor in the eventual disintegration of a guerilla campaign. Quick, accurate intelligence information is essential and the psychological attitude of the people is the key to intelligence procurement.
Coastal, Delta, and Riverine War. Guerrilla movements have often been closely tied to the sea and inland waterways. They have depended on the sea as a supply route and liaison channel, and on the swamps and rivers to assure an unobtrusive, sure method of transport and internal communication.
Arms and supplies landed clandestinely over beaches or in hidden inlets supplied guerrilla forces in the Spain of 1808, as well as today’s Vietnam. Control of the waterways has always been an important objective for both guerrilla and counter-guerrilla.
When one examines the coastal, delta, and river systems on a world map it is not difficult to see how future guerrilla campaigns may be concentrated in coastal or fluvial zones. From the mangrove swamps of the West African Coast to the Chonos Archipelago of Chile and the island maze of Indonesia, waterways provide certain advantages over the classic mountain or jungle base.
Isolation is reduced because the lines of communication are improved. The guerrilla can use the water as a roadway. The multiplicity of supply points will work to his advantage. He no longer has to depend on a hazardous, easily interdicted, mountain trail or the tell-tale air drop. His supplies, orders, and equipment can come in a swift patrol boat or an innocent looking pirogue.
Coastal swamps, jungled inlets and multiple river systems provide him with as much cover as a mountain stronghold with the added advantage that escape routes are more easily available. In this new location he avoids some of the physical and psychological detriments he had faced hidden in the mountains. Food becomes a question of simple fish traps and not one of mule-delivered rations. Medical supplies arrive directly from outside the country and their transit is from supplier to user with no need of a long, clandestine, cross country transit.
The riverine guerrilla may also be able to maintain his influence more readily on a greater number of people as population centers are often in lowland locations in close proximity to river mouths and sea fronts.
Riverine operations pose new problems and requirements for the counter-guerrilla. Small patrol craft, no matter how well-armed or armored, are extremely vulnerable as they move along a waterway past banks thick with jungle growth or hidden in high swamp grass.
“Reconnaissances up narrow creeks in launches or boats are fraught with danger,” a British commander wrote in 1907, referring to the West African campaigns of the late 1800s, “and the best way to carry these out is to scout the bush on each side in advance of the boat.” Such scouting may not be possible or practical but it is true that constant liaison with the shore is essential to ensure up-to-date intelligence and adequate security.
If naval forces are carrying out riverine counter-guerrilla action it is a practical as well as psychological necessity that their link with the land be firmly established. The water-borne counter-guerrilla’s understanding of the man he is fighting must extend beyond the boundaries of shore line or river bank.
A river winds through a countryside like an artery through a human body. To treat an artery the physician must know the body, sense its reactions, and watch closely for changes. The riverine counter-guerrilla must be alert in the same manner if his cure is to work.
The people ashore can be as important to him as the picture on a radar scope. A knowledge of their ethnic background, culture, and tradition, blended with an understanding of their position in regard to a guerrilla movement, form the indispensable background against which day-to-day developments can be measured, psychological attitudes weighed and operational decisions made.
Villages suddenly deserted along a specific stretch of river; unexpected sullenness on the part of normally friendly fishermen; elaborate delays in the formalities of greeting by elders of a coastal hamlet; a sudden increase in the number of women fishing off a specific village; all of the small signals that might otherwise go unnoticed become important when interpreted from such a base of knowledge.
During the Indochina war French authorities organized the 5th Mobile Security Brigade. This small unit, officered by Eurasians and with a number of ex-Vietminh in their ranks, patrolled the inlets and small streams leading in and out of the Saigon river. They operated at night in pirogues without motors. In two and a half years this unit killed or captured 420 Vietminh officials and messengers without losing a man. Much of their success was owing to a deep knowledge of their enemy and his character.
A substantial contribution to the success of future riverine operations involving the guerrilla can come from a thorough understanding of the psychological aspects active within a particular environment. Such a base of knowledge, coupled with bold, simple, commando-type action may accomplish more than any array of new boats and technological equipment.
During the 1968 Tet offensive, a dispatch in The New York Times described the fighting in Vietnam in these words: “The tenacity of the enemy continues to surprise top military spokesmen . . . It also baffles the American and South Vietnamese ground troops.” The dispatch quotes an American infantryman: “Every day we think we got him this time, and he keeps coming back.”
It would be too facile to explain such “tenacity” as a product of psychological conditioning alone. The writer does conclude that a recognition of the psychological aspects of guerrilla warfare is not only essential to an understanding of the problem but is often the key to success or failure in both guerrilla and counterguerrilla operations.
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A graduate of City College of San Francisco in 1946, Mr. Simpson’s broad experience in and out of government as both a writer and an artist (Academic Julian, Paris, 1949) includes assignments in Southeast Asia (1951 to 1955 and 1964-1965); Lagos, Nigeria (1957 to 1959); Marseilles, France, (1959 to 1961 and 1962 to 1964); Paris (1961-1962 and 1965 to 1967). A graduate of the Naval War College’s School of Naval Warfare in 1968, he now is a consultant (USIA), American Embassy in Canberra, Australia.