The Kennedy Men_ 1901-1963 - Laurence Leamer [471]
In all those endless hours of discussion in the White House, no one had ever raised the question of Diem’s fate in a successful coup. A top-secret October 25 State Department “Check-List of Possible U.S. Actions in Case of Coup” mentioned financial inducements to the coup plotters and military aid, but nothing of what might happen to Diem. This was not an esoteric moral subtlety best left to religious philosophers and college dons, but an essential part of the equation of power. These men had met the South Vietnamese president, and some had spent hours with him. Diem could have been fervently pushed to go into exile on his own and warned that if he did not, all American support would end. Of course, that strategy would have run the risk that Diem would fill the streets of Saigon with the blood of those who dared to oppose him.
Kennedy had learned that language was the bearer of power, and his precise words were the best way to contain his subordinates’ actions. In this instance, he gave no clear directive. There are few things more dangerous than powerful men who think that they have covered all contingencies when they have merely justified what they want to see happen. Kennedy had repeatedly said that if the coup started, it had to succeed. Hilsman took that as his mandate. He let Saigon know that if Nhu and his family were “taken alive, [they] should be banished to France or any other country willing to receive them,” but they could not be allowed to stay in Southeast Asia. That was justification for not flying Diem immediately to Bangkok or some other nearby city where he and his brother could have waited to board a flight to Europe. This did not mean that Hilsman was concerned about whether Diem and Nhu lived. “Diem should be treated as the generals wish,” he wrote in his memorandum on August 30.
Diem was learning a lesson that many have learned. At times it was almost as dangerous to be a friend of the United States as to be its enemy, for the Americans often saw friendship as a one-sided contract that had to be filled by an endless array of deeds and that they could summarily cancel.
Diem was a man of ritual, both public and private, and though he said that he did not care if he lived or died, he wanted to be treated with the honor of his status. He was upset when the soldiers arrived at the church in Chalon where he had sought refuge and asked him to get into an army personnel carrier, not into a car worthy of the president of South Vietnam. He and his brother lowered their heads to enter the vehicle. Then their hands were tied behind their backs and the door was shut. When the vehicle arrived at joint general staff headquarters, the door was open. Diem and Nhu were still there, but they had both been shot to death, and Nhu had been stabbed as well.
“It’s hard to believe he’d commit suicide given his strong religious career,” Kennedy said half to himself soon after the generals announced that Diem had killed himself. Catholics believe that eternal damnation is God’s judgment on those who end their own lives, and he knew that Diem was a man of profound faith.
“He’s Catholic, but he’s an Asian Catholic,” Hilsman said.
“What?” Kennedy asked. It may have been that the president was off somewhere in his own thoughts at the Ex Comm meeting on November 2. It was also true that when someone said something especially stupid, the president often asked him to repeat it.
“He’s an Asian Catholic, and not only that, he’s a mandarin. It seems to me not at all inconsistent with Armageddon.”
“There’re several different reports here, Mr. President,” Bundy said, having heard enough of this sophomoric digression. He then went on to read an eyewitness report that both Diem and Nhu were dead and had clearly been assassinated. Bundy also