Special traffic in Saigon - a murky incident

Ernie Mendoza’s fascinating account of the part played by ‘Special Traffic’ in Reuters’ business history reminds me of a curious, murky incident during the Vietnam War.
 
One day in 1966, as the American offensive in Vietnam was surging into the history books (300,000 US troops in-country, and counting), Reuters Saigon office received an official registered letter in the morning post.

 
“Trouble,” said office manager Pham Ngoc Dinh, holding the buff envelope by one corner and handing it over to me as if it were a live grenade.
 
The letter was addressed to me by name and legal title: Responsible Director, Reuters SA London.   The sender’s name printed on the envelope, in Vietnamese and French, was Ministère des Postes, télégraphes et téléphones (PTT), South Vietnam’s telecommunications authority. 

As Dinh said, this letter could mean real trouble. It threatened Reuters lucrative ’Special Traffic’ business in Saigon, which was helping to pay our costs of covering the Vietnam War.  We had converted part of the Saigon office into a modern 'wireroom' staffed by local telegraphists.  Dozens of non-Reuters war correspondents in Saigon delivered their dispatches to Reuters office.  Our telegraphists sent them to their organisations, using Reuters international radio circuit from Saigon, which we leased from the PTT.

The letter from the ministry referred to this radio circuit, describing the lease as being for Reuters exclusive use. The problem, it said, was that a recent spot check by PTT engineers on the contents of the circuit had revealed, in addition to Reuters own reports, unauthorised messages from some thirty named foreign correspondents working for other organisations, including the New York Times and The Times of London.

The letter demanded a satisfactory explanation within three days, otherwise our radio lease would be immediately terminated.  That would have destroyed our ability to compete with rival news agencies in reporting the war.

Dinh was already on the phone requesting a meeting with the ministry. We went along together that afternoon. No time to consult with Reuters senior management in Singapore or London. 

Dinh and I were ushered into the presence of a courteous senior civil servant.  We drank tea and exchanged pleasantries in English and French.  I started to explain our corporate argument, that we allowed Reuters ‘associates’ to share our communications -- "part of the Reuters family". But it was obvious he was not listening. He then spoke rapidly in Vietnamese to Dinh, who quickly got to his feet and told me the meeting was over.

“We go now," Dinh said. "Wrong office.” 

It turned out the PTT Ministry was simply relaying a message to Reuters from South Vietnam’s powerful Military Intelligence. 

Dinh fixed another meeting, this time with the spooks.  More tea, but no pleasantries.  An unsmiling colonel received us in an anonymous government building. Dinh was unusually deferential.  The officer ignored me and spoke directly with Dinh, inviting him to study the list of non-Reuters war correspondents using our leased radio circuit. He pointed to one particular name, the Saigon correspondent of The Guardian of London.

Military Intelligence wanted this journalist banned from using our radio circuit. The authorities were not happy with his reports. Dinh explained afterwards that they wanted him to send his reports through the PTT telegraph office, where they could be intercepted by the spooks, studied and possibly ‘lost’. 

I agreed on the spot, with no authority, that Reuters would terminate The Guardian’s rights to use our radio circuit. The colonel smiled and said “Thank you”. 

Back in our office, I contacted the Guardian colleague and told him that unfortunately he could no longer use our communications, by order of the authorities. He did not seem surprised.  He said he fully understood and would tell his superiors in London. That was the end of the problem, at least in Saigon. 
 
I still had to explain my action to my superiors.  Not easy when our only link to London was by communications which could easily be tapped by the PTT -- or the spooks. I typed a report which I sent to London by ‘pigeon’, a helpful passenger on a flight from Saigon to London. I explained to Reuters senior management that sacrificing the revenue from one Special Traffic client, The Guardian, had saved the whole, crucial Special Traffic operation.  

David Chipp, Southeast Asia Manager in London and a veteran correspondent himself, readily agreed.   As far as I know, our Special Traffic operation from Vietnam continued to fund Reuters reporting costs throughout the war.

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