THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL | APRIL-MAY 2025 41 The visit to Vietnam of avuncular CBS evening news anchor Walter Cronkite in February, and his audible on-air sigh during his commentary upon return, expressing doubt that victory was possible, was the dagger to the heart of President Johnson’s reelection bid. Approval ratings of the war effort dropped below 50 percent in just one month; and, as a result, insurgent Democratic candidate Senator Eugene McCarthy of Minnesota came close to pulling an upset over LBJ in the New Hampshire primary in mid-February. Johnson, who had produced a remarkable array of legislative accomplishments in civil and voting rights following the JFK assassination, had in effect presided over what would be the final year of America’s post–World War II triumphalism. It had been an ever-ascending period of U.S. global leadership and dominance, which made New York the commercial capital of the world, made Washington the epicenter of global military power and diplomatic influence, and caused America to be seen as the ubiquitous bulwark against communism. Then, in a stunning array of increasingly traumatic political tremors and tragedies, America’s triumphal position came undone. Violent paroxysms tore apart the country’s political fabric and intensified opposition to the Vietnam War. In late March, as the Wisconsin primary approached, Johnson, trailing badly in the polls, stunned the country by withdrawing from the presidential race. Political Unraveling That was followed just a few days later, on April 4, by the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I can still vividly recall standing transfixed outside our Arlington training center as huge plumes of black smoke rose out of the burning national capital city. That weekend, when the fires had been put out and order restored by units of the 82nd Airborne flown in from North Carolina, I drove into D.C. and saw the results of the rage that the murder of Dr. King had unleashed. The sights of burned buildings and helmeted soldiers carrying rifles with fixed bayonets on street corners remain with me to this day. It was then that Robert Kennedy stepped to center stage. Carrying the mantle of Camelot, he seemed to offer the chance to restore the ascendancy of the New Frontier and the justice his brother, Jack, had pledged to African Americans. It seemed that the triumphalism of post–World War II America that JFK had symbolized could be restored. If there was any hope of undoing the damage to the body politic of the past four months, Bobby Kennedy was that possibility. And then, in a hotel ballroom, that last chance for redemption was shattered on June 5 by an assassin’s bullet that took Bobby Kennedy’s life. Watching the hearse carry his body across Memorial Bridge en route to Arlington Cemetery, I recall feeling an incredible sense of depression about the direction of the country. The anti-war protests and demonstrations in inner cities that multiplied across the country, followed by the turmoil at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago that produced harsh responses by law enforcement, left the political process convulsed. The impact of this yearlong political unraveling became evident with the election of Richard Nixon later that year and the beginning of Vietnamization—turning the war effort over to South Vietnamese forces. It soon became clear that the U.S. was no longer trying to win the war, only to find a way out. By the time I arrived in Vietnam in late November 1968, assigned as part of the Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV) in the Mekong Delta, I witnessed the rapid spread through the U.S. military of the attitude that “I don’t want to be the last person to die in Vietnam.” The contagion eroded discipline and morale, especially among draftees. In the second half of 1970, FSO Ken Quinn (center, white shirt) was the senior adviser in Duc Ton district of Sa Dec province in South Vietnam as part of MACV/CORDS Advisory Team #65. In that position, he led a 13-person U.S. Army team, participating in more than 100 hours of helicopter combat operations, becom- ing the only civilian and only FSO to earn the Army Air Medal. Pictured here with Quinn are (from left) team members Sgt. Norbert Stynski, Sgt. John Hoover, Capt. Paul Kalowski, Lt. Jim Connell, and Sgt. James Smith. The images of the fighting flowed almost instantly into millions of homes across America via television. COURTESY OF KENNETH QUINN
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