Vietnam Hero Leads Fight to Challenge Bush

John Kerry walked into the hall to the sound of rapturous cheering. In a casual checked shirt, he smiled and waved to hundreds of adoring fans.

The Vietnam veteran looked at ease with the welcome. Surrounding him were fellow former soldiers who were hosting this campaign appearance in the New Hampshire city of Manchester. Some of them had served under Kerry in his gunboat in the Mekong delta. He hugged them and raised their fists in the air. 'Kerry! Kerry! Kerry!' they chanted.

The object of their worship beamed a confident grin. 'It takes my breath away,' he said. After six months of withering criticism and under-performance, Kerry's push for the White House has finally hit top gear. The Democratic senator from Massachusetts is starting to look like a man who could be president.

Kerry, 60, is now the frontrunner many said he should have been along. He emerged from a stunning victory in the Iowa caucus last week with the momentum that should see him win this week's New Hampshire primary - a tested proving ground for presidential candidates.

Kerry's rise has been mirrored by the spectacular collapse of former Vermont governor Howard Dean's campaign. Only a month ago Dean led Kerry in New Hampshire opinion polls by 30 points. Now he trails by 10. The former family doctor who won American hearts and minds with his straight-talking style is now battling for his political life.

But this is by no means a two-man fight. The New Hampshire primary is one of the most enthralling in recent years. Southern senator John Edwards emerged from Iowa as a 'new Bill Clinton', coming from nowhere to take the second place.

New Hampshire too is where retired General Wesley Clark enters the fray. Clark wears the anti-war mantle - a potential goldmine of votes as the conflict in Iraq drags on.

All four are playing for the highest possible stakes in a potentially career-threatening contest for the future of the Democratic Party. Last week, after brutally critical adverts filled the airwaves of Iowa, an uneasy truce settled between them.

At a key debate all candidates shied away from scoring points against each other. But as the campaign rolls on, one thing is certain - the peace will not last.

In the early hours of last Tuesday as the plane carrying Dean, his campaign workers and the media pack lifted off into the night sky for New Hampshire, one Dean aide let out a heartfelt sigh and said: 'Well, we are out of Iowa.'

Barely. Dean's defeat there was devastating. A true political train wreck. A late slip in the polls had shown all four candidates neck and neck. But when the results came in Dean was third, with less than half the support of Kerry.

Aides termed it a 'murder-suicide' caused by the war between Dean and rival Dick Gephardt. Faced with having to win Iowa, Gephardt went negative on Dean. Dean followed.

The electorate, sick of the negative campaigning, switched to Kerry and Edwards. As a result Gephardt's campaign imploded - he has now dropped out of the race - and Dean's was almost brought down with it. Worse was to come. In conceding defeat, Dean gave a now infamously over-the-top speech, labelled the 'screech heard around the world'.

It was a terrible mistake. America sees the office of President as sacrosanct. Dean's yelling performance was called 'unpresidential' even by his own supporters. He has paid dearly for it. 'It is incredible. Dean has been losing like a point an hour in the polls,' laughed a staffer in a rival campaign.

It has forced a dramatic image rethink just days before the New Hampshire vote. The 55-year-old has toned down his rhetoric. Gone are attacks on rivals. Dean's wife, Judy Steinberg, gave her first ever television interview. She sat, holding hands with Dean, and spoke of her love for her husband and her family life. Dean even made a guest appearance on the David Letterman late-night talk show, poking fun at himself in a comedy sketch.

It is all designed to erase a series of gaffes over the past weeks and repair Dean's image as out-of-control. 'It is the same ideas. Just packaged differently,' one aide said.

It could work. 'No one can write Dean off. That's not yet possible,' said Professor Kenneth Warren, a political science expert at St Louis University. Dean's saving grace is simple - money. His amazing fundraising efforts over the past six months mean he can afford to stay in the race for weeks ahead. The fanaticism of his grassroots campaign also gives him the logistics across the country to do so. This is the '50 state strategy' and only Clark, capitalising on his celebrity, has any equivalent. Dean just needs to remain credible in New Hampshire. In the end, the presidential nominee is decided by the number of delegates each candidate wins in all 50 states. New Hampshire, despite its huge media value, is tiny. Dean is still strong in populous states such as New York and California.

And his supporters still believe. Last week they crammed into a community hall in the town of Lebanon. They arrived an hour early and greeted Dean's appearance with a deafening roar. 'We still believe in you, Howard,' cried one man, prompting a standing ovation.

Dean stuck to his guns but toned down his speech. He concentrated not on the war but on health care, jobs and his fiscally conservative record in Vermont. 'I am not just campaigning to be President. I am campaigning against a system where politicians will say anything to get elected,' he said.

He had his supporters convinced. 'I am sticking with him,' said Dick Nelson, a Lebanon publishing worker.

But that might not be enough. Dean's campaign may have been reduced to its core activist support. The momentum is with Kerry's camp. Kerry is the opposite of Dean. He is the Washington insider, who has served in the Senate for 18 years. He preaches a familiar brand of Democratic liberalism, long associated with the type of New England family from which he hails. He has pitched himself as 'electable', a swipe at Dean's perceived grassroots revolution.

His weakness is his support for the Iraq war. But his strength lies in another war: Vietnam. Kerry was a decorated soldier who returned to become one of the anti-war movement's most eloquent speakers. He is a hero to veterans and peace protesters alike. It is an image he capitalises on. His TV commercials feature testimony from his former comrades-in-arms. They speak movingly of how his leadership saved their lives. Such adverts are thought to have won Kerry vital support in Iowa.

The same technique is now in full swing in New Hampshire. Kerry's camp has a database of more than 30,000 veterans in the state. That is a massive voting block. Usually criticised as a stiff public speaker, he is at ease when talking of Vietnam. 'The heroes are the ones whose names are on the walls,' he said 'Those of us who came home were just lucky.'

As Kerry bounds on to the stage, he is followed by Max Cleland, a wheelchair-bound veteran who lost both legs and an arm in combat but went on to become a senator. Kerry hugged Cleland and praised his bravery. Cleland returned the favour. 'We veterans love John Kerry for many reasons. But the best thing we can call him is brother,' Cleland said. It was powerful, media-friendly stuff. 'I applaud you,' one woman told Kerry. 'You are the next President.'

That was a bit premature, even for Kerry's rejuvenated campaign. New Hampshire is a crowded pond this year and Kerry's new status as frontrunner makes him as much a target as a favourite. And there are other big fish here.

Just eight weeks ago Senator John Edwards was talking to New Hampshire crowds numbering just a few dozen. No longer. Last week, at a meeting on the campus of Dartmouth College, security guards had to close the doors before a dangerous crush developed. Scores milled around outside, straining to hear Edwards speak.

'We can build one America that all of us can be part of,' he intoned in his Southern drawl. Edwards has the same charm and easy manner as Clinton and has a relentlessly sunny attitude. He works crowds brilliantly and his good looks earned him wolf whistles from the students. At 49, he is young too. A lawyer-turned-politician who amassed a huge fortune by defending victims' rights against the some of the biggest companies and institutions in America.

Iowa has given him enough credibility to survive a low placing in New Hampshire until the campaign hits the South on 3 February. South Carolina is Edwards's birthplace. He is a senator from neighbouring North Carolina.

Doing well in the South is his ultimate weapon. It is a Republican stronghold and north-eastern liberals - like Kerry and Dean - traditionally fare badly there. Edwards says he can win the South, not just in the primaries, but against George Bush too. 'The South is not George Bush's backyard. The South is my backyard,' he said.

But he is not the only Southern card in the pack. Wesley Clark is still in the game. The 59-year-old was born in Illinois but raised in Arkansas. He too can put on a Southern drawl when he needs to. Unlike Edwards and Kerry, he was anti-war. Unlike Dean, he is a former military commander who is hard to fault on national security. And like Kerry, Clark is a decorated Vietnam veteran. Clark skipped Iowa, aiming to kickstart his campaign here. That could prove costly. Clark advisers had reckoned on facing Dean. Instead Kerry and Edwards emerged as the hot candidates. It has left Clark facing multiple attacks. He has appeared shaky in televised debates, fumbling questions on abortion and looking uncertain on other issues. Critics say Clark has too little experience for office - although he claims that allows him to steal the outsider label from Dean.

But can this candidate for all seasons win it? Clark is third in most New Hampshire polls. If he can beat Dean to second place, he will emerge with new momentum and challenge Edwards across the South. He could compete with Kerry too, vying for the support of veterans.

Clark can still attract a crowd. He campaigned energetically last week. At each meeting hundreds turned out. Some were vociferous in their choice of which Vietnam veteran they preferred. 'Kerry voted for the war in Iraq,' said Brian Hardy. 'I don't buy what Kerry's selling.'

Clark's message is simple. He will restore America's position in the world and resolve the conflict in Iraq. 'I promise you I would not get into a mess like this again,' he said. Behind him a campaign slogan read: 'New Hampshire is Clark country.' That remains to be seen.

For the moment, everything is still to play for. Polls are scrutinised endlessly but - as in Iowa - they can lie. New Hampshire voters are notoriously volatile, especially in primaries. 'Remember, all these voters are Democrats first, so they have less loyalty to one particular candidate. That's why polls swing so much,' Warren said.

It appears New Hampshire will not prove decisive. The four main candidates are likely to survive until the first 'super Tuesday' on 3 February, when seven states vote. Then comes a steady flow of states until the main Super Tuesday on 2 March, when 10 states, including delegate-rich New York and California, go to the polls.

All along will be a blur of stump speeches, critical adverts and endless criss-crossing of this vast country. The battle could even end up going to the floor of the Democratic convention itself. The one person that would suit best is Bush. He is already campaigning in key swing states, such as New Mexico last week.

His State of the Union address was carefully pitched as an election rally. So was a recent speech to an anti-abortion protest. Bush's campaign coffers have already swollen to more than $100 million. Republican advisers watch the Democratic contest with glee. Whoever emerges from the bloody fight, Bush will be waiting for him.