A soldier halts the first piece of armour to arrive in Thessalonika as it drives on a railway platform during the week. The Scimitar is being loaded onto a train on the docks awaiting onward movement to Macedonia. Photograph: Kevin Capon
`If Nixon could sell the fall of Saigon as peace with honour, Clinton could sell any deal on Kosovo as well'
THE air campaign against Yugoslavia is intensifying. In the coming week NATO will have at its disposal no less than 1,000 aircraft for round-the-clock operations.
But the real battle is now conducted behind the scenes. Both the Yugoslav leadership and NATO's governments are keen to explore any available peace opportunities.
The snag is that neither is persuaded that the time has arrived for a real settlement. What we are witnessing, therefore, is a diplomatic pirouette which is likely to be just as complicated as NATO's current air offensive.
NATO's interest in testing the diplomatic waters is based on the realisation that the option of using ground forces in order to prise Kosovo out of Yugoslavia's control is now fading fast, but that air strikes on their own will never achieve their political aims.
In the run-up to the NATO summit held in Washington last weekend, the British Prime Minister, Mr Blair, made a strong pitch for a ground offensive.
The US service chiefs, however, rejected the idea. The military, they argued, are here to plan for the worst possible eventuality. If troops are to be committed to fight in Kosovo, they must be prepared to encounter stiff Yugoslav resistance and suffer heavy casualties.
President Clinton was grateful for Mr Blair's hawkish media appearances in Washington, mainly because they allowed the White House to test the response of ordinary Americans. But the outcome was not exactly reassuring.
Opinion polls suggest that Americans are split right down the middle on the option of a ground offensive, hardly the thumping support a US President needs to put his soldiers in harm's way. Given these difficulties, Mr Clinton simply decided to do nothing and the option of ground troops has been shelved, at least for the moment.
But alliance leaders know that an operation which has no apparent end and no clear aims is bound to fail: sooner or later some European governments will grow tired of the entire effort and the unanimity will be shattered, just as it was in the confrontation with Iraq.
So, NATO adopted two tactics, to be pursued in parallel. The first entails an intensification of the air campaign with the addition of some spectacular targets. One night it was the Serb television centre. Then it was the turn of President Slobodan Milosevic's house, his home town or the last remaining bridge over the Danube.
The purpose of these targets is to keep the pressure on the Yugoslav leader, while conveying the message to public opinion in the West that the alliance has not settled for a useless war of attrition.
The second tactic is to explore any peace offers, partly in order to engage Russia in a dialogue, and partly in order to reassure European governments such as those in Germany, Italy and Greece, that the possibility of a diplomatic exit from the conflict is not ignored. The change in NATO's mood has come at a good time for Moscow as well. The Russians have realised that they have no chance of directly influencing alliance decisions. Their intemperate warn ings about a "third world war" earlier in the Yugoslav conflict have merely isolated the Kremlin from any serious decision-making.
Playing the role of a mediator between an alliance which now has no diplomatic relations with Belgrade and a Yugoslav leader who is cornered is the dream position for President Yeltsin. The difficulty is that Mr Milosevic is not suing for peace. Western politicians have read too much into his decision to dismiss Mr Vuk Draskovic, Yugoslavia's deputy prime minister, earlier this week. Mr Draskovic was an opponent of Mr Milosevic, but he joined the government, and has therefore burnt his bridges with dissidents in his country.
Furthermore, even if Mr Draskovic is now prepared to confront Mr Milosevic, this is hardly significant. The mainstays of the Yugoslav regime are the armed forces and security services, over which Mr Draskovic has no influence.
NATO claimed this week to have observed the first "green shoots of democracy" in Yugoslavia, but Mr Milosevic is still in control.
But NATO is in a conundrum as well. As the war has progressed, alliance leaders have boxed themselves into a corner. They have demonised Mr Milosevic, demanded that NATO lead any peacekeeping force into Kosovo, and that the Yugoslav troops withdraw completely.
And they have promised the speedy return of all refugees, as well as punishment for war criminals. The reality is that if NATO is serious about a peace deal it may have to deal with the same Yugoslav dictator the alliance compared to Hitler, and it may also have to accept the creation of a peacekeeping force under a United Nations flag.
The task is possible, but only just. Any compromise could open the alliance to accusations of failure. A senior White House official was quoted in the American media this weekend as expressing confidence that "if Nixon could sell the fall of Saigon as peace with honour, Clinton could sell any deal on Kosovo as well".
Perhaps, but Kosovo is not Vietnam. Since few American lives were lost in the Balkans, Mr Clinton's Republican opponents could accuse the president of betrayal with impunity.
Vietnam was a problem for which both Republicans and Democrats shared responsibility. Kosovo can be pinned to Mr Clinton alone.
Eager to avoid any diplomatic defeat, NATO is therefore committed to a policy of exploring all peace feelers, provided that they result in Mr Milosevic's utter capitulation. For Mr Milosevic, however, the tactic is much simpler. He will continue to offer peace proposals on a daily basis. Most of them will be frivolous, while some will contain at least a few diplomatic "gems".
Once the debate is about the flag carried by peacekeepers in Kosovo, he reckons that the Germans in particular will have no stomach for continuing the air offensive.
And, the moment the air campaign stops, he could return to his old obstructionist ways.
The author is Director of Studies at the Royal United Services Institute in London