This was the rifle shot approach. But where large concentrations of people or security teams surrounded the targeted VCI, Jim Ward favored a variation on the cordon and search method employed by Brewer and Milberg in Quang Tri, “where you move in at three A.M., surround the entire area, and block everybody off.” However, because Ward lacked the “troop density” enjoyed in I Corps, in his Phoenix operations he used light observation helicopters “to buzz the paddy fields to keep people from running off. You don’t have enough men to cordon off an entire village when you have only a hundred PRU and two Americans,” he said, the two Americans being the PRU adviser and the Phoenix coordinator.
Using this approach, which relied on surprise, Ward would conduct five operations in a day. “They would go in on one side of the village. The first outfit would jump off a helicopter with one adviser and set up a block. Then another helicopter would land a hundred yards further down. Then a third and a fourth, with the other U.S. adviser. These guys would branch out in a skirmish line and start moving into town. They would catch everybody with rifles stacked, unprepared. When a helicopter is coming in low,” Ward explained, “you don’t even hear it coming in your direction. All of a sudden there’s a tremendous roar, and they see people landing in different places.
“The PRU knew exactly what to do,” Ward continued. “They’d get all these people [VCI suspects] out in a larger helicopter and take them back to where the province chief could put them in a special stockade. Then they’d get Special Branch people going through identifying each one. Meanwhile, the PRU would reequip with more ammo and go to the next drop.”
Ward’s method closely resembled the hunter-killer technique developed in 1962 and detailed by Elton Manzione. Omitted from Ward’s sanitized account, however, was what happened before the arrival of the killer team, when the hunter team “snatches and/or snuffs” the cadre. Ward also neglected to describe the conduct of the PRU.
“Sometimes we’d go out with a whole pack of mercenaries,” recalled Mike Beamon. “They were very good going in, but once we got there and made our target, they would completely pillage the place…. It was a complete carnival….”11
In balancing MACV’s and the CIA’s interests in Phoenix, Colonel Doug Dillard was destined to rain on somebody’s parade. In IV Corps the man who got soaked was the regional Public Safety adviser, Del Spiers.
Dillard as the regional Phoenix coordinator had the job of bringing police resources to bear against the VCI. The idea was to prevent region officers in charge like Jim Ward and Bob Wall from using PRU as blocking forces during Phoenix operations, so the PRU would be available to conduct rifle shot operations. “Our concept,” Dillard said, “was to put the Field Police in a location as a blocking force and let the PRUs do the dirty work.”
In 1968, however, most province chiefs were still feeling the aftershocks of Tet and preferred to use the Field Police as bodyguards in the province capital. “Unless you had an effective Regional and Popular Forces organization at the district level,” Dillard explained, “the only thing you had … was the Field Police, and hell, he was guarding the province chief’s house, not out trying to run operations in support of your activity.”
Compounding the problem were the Public Safety advisers themselves, whom Dillard described as “principally responsible for getting new jeeps and radios and supplies and funds for the National Police. And that was about it. Their proclivity was to support the Field Police, as opposed to trying to see that force engaged in operations.
“As I began to get out in the provinces,” Dillard continued, “it seemed the Public Safety adviser was never there. He was either en route to Saigon or coming back from Saigon. When I talked to the U.S. people in the province, they would say, ‘Well, this guy is either drunk or shacked up with his girl friend.’ … Many of them were former policemen or policemen on leave,” Dillard grumbled, “or they came from some law enforcement activity and were plunged into that environment … [and] based on my experience, there was almost a total incompetence.”
Nor was the problem alleviated when “after Tet, they brought in a group of enlisted men out of the Military Police. They were going to be advisers to the Field Police, but many of them were inept, too. I know from talking to them that they had never been in combat, and their experience was analogous to Shore Patrol,” Dillard said. “They were principally experienced as physical security guards, and many of them had drinking problems.
“Anyway, we just wrote the Field Police off. When it came to trying to get their resources on the ground, to put them in helicopters and move them around, we began to find that the province chief had one problem after another: Either the Field Police weren’t available, or the Public Safety advisers weren’t aware of the nature of Phoenix operations, or [the operations weren’t] cleared with the province chief. And the Public Safety adviser would be running against the grain if he took the province chief’s resources or even tried to influence him to free up the Field Police to run our operations.
“So the senior CORDS advisor, ‘Coal Bin’ Willie Wilson, came down to Four Corps, and he called me over and asked, ‘What can we do to improve the Phoenix program?’ And I complained about the lack of use of Field Police. I said I wanted to use it as a light infantry strike force, which would give us, if you added in the PRU, about a four-thousand-man strike force in the Delta. ‘We know the PRU are damn good,’ I said, ‘but we can’t get them all killed trying to do everybody’s job.’
“What I proposed is that there be some kind of central control set up that would give us the capability to use police in the Delta to support Phoenix operations. I added that with the kind of people there were out advising in the provinces, ‘that ain’t ever gonna get done.’”
When confronted by Coal Bin Willie, Doug Dillard recalled, Del Spiers said, “I can’t fire the province senior adviser. I have to put up with the people he assigns to me. It’s not like the military,” where an officer can transfer an unsatisfactory subordinate.
Said Dillard: “Well, I am a military man, and I have a job to get done.” And from that day on the Field Police and their Public Safety advisers were the Phoenix program’s scapegoats in the Delta. At their expense Dillard achieved peace between the CIA and MACV in the Delta. He convinced the CIA that by sharing its information, military resources could be used against the VCI. In exchange for supporting the CIA’s attack on the VCI, the military benefited from CIA intelligence on the location of main force enemy units. That translated into higher body counts and brighter careers.
“I could do what I wanted within the guidelines of the Phoenix program,” Doug Dillard said with satisfaction, “which to me was the overall coordination of the units that existed in the Delta to destroy the infrastructure.” With his regional reaction force ready and raring to go, Dillard mounted regional Phoenix operations on the Ward mini-cordon and search technique.
“At the province level we had almost daily involvement with the CIA’s province adviser and SEAL team PRU adviser,” Dillard explained. “This was either trying to help them get resources or going over the potential for operations. A good example is the time we got good intelligence on the VC staff on sampans in the U Minh Forest. The idea was to work in coordination with the U.S. Ninth Infantry Division in Chuong Thien Province. It was good timing because they had troops and could expand their artillery fire into An Xuyen, where the U Minh Forest was. We decided to use the PRU team from Kien Giang, with their SEAL adviser, and Major Leroy Suddath [the Phong Dinh paramilitary adviser, who as a major general in 1986 commanded the First Special Operations Command at Fort Bragg].”
As in the Milberg-Brewer operation in Quang Tri, the Vietnamese were cut out of the planning. “We decided we should lift out without a lot of notice,” Dillard said. “So the SEAL adviser put his PRU on alert. But we didn’t want to spook them, so they were told they were going on an operation in their province … We took the PRU team out of Kien Giang with Leroy in the lead, and with the Ninth D
ivision helicopters and artillery support to cover our infiltration and exfiltration. This way we could put the PRU on the canal, capture those people, and get in and out during daylight.
“We went over to Chuong Thien and loaded out of there. I flew out of there in the command and control helicopter. We went up to Kien Giang, and Leroy had the PRU team ready…. We loaded up early that morning, flew down, and inserted the team on the canal. Then the chopper went back to Chuong Thien; I stayed over there with the radio and talked to Leroy to get a progress report. Leroy went in with the PRU-SEAL team. There were two Americans, and the rest were Vietnamese. They scarfed up twelve people almost immediately but couldn’t find the sampan they were looking for. We think the damn operation got leaked, and they got spooked.”
As in the Thuong Xa operation, despite elaborate planning and security precautions, a large-scale Phoenix operation failed to accomplish its mission. However, by showing that military assets could be used in support of Province Reconnaissance Units and that CIA intelligence could generate a sizable operation, the U Minh Forest operation did prove to MACV that Phoenix was a viable coordinating mechanism.
“In working with Ted Greyman in the Can Tho Advisory Group,” Dillard said, “we were trying to piece together patterns of the main force guerrilla battalions, which constituted the single greatest danger to a district or even a province. Ted very closely coordinated with us in our Phoenix activities, plotting information where VC attacks had occurred, in what force, when, and so forth. When these facts came together, he would coordinate a B-fifty-two strike in that area.”
In particular, Dillard was concerned with the movements of the Muoi Tu Battalion, which periodically emerged from its sanctuary in Cambodia and conducted operations in Chau Doc, Kien Phong, and Kien Tuong provinces. “Annually they’d come down and cut a wide swath through these three provinces, then go back into Cambodia,” Dillard explained. “That’s where Ted Greyman and I began to work very closely to try to plot every piece of information that we could get on the Muoi Tu Battalion.”
The job of finding the Muoi Tu in Cambodia belonged to the Special Operations Group and its Vietnamese assets, which ran agent nets and reconnaissance missions into Cambodia. But, explained Dillard, “Quite often there was a lot of clumsy, heavy-handed type of activity, and I don’t think [Special Forces] were appreciative of the nuances of being supercautious in collecting and evaluating intelligence before running operations. I think it was in Kien Phong on the border; the sun rose one morning, and they went into position there, and every man on the line had been shot through the back of the head. This was the Vietnamese Special Forces. They were infiltrated constantly by the VC.”
Dispersed along South Vietnam’s borders since 1962, the Fifth Special Forces A teams, augmented by the 403d Special Operations Detachment and an unnumbered intelligence group, routinely fed intelligence to MACV and the CIA. “The sophistication of the intelligence apparatus,” General McChristian writes, “allowed for operations against the infrastructure.”12
However, by September 1967 it was clear, as Doug Dillard noted, that the Vietnamese Special Forces were too heavily infiltrated to be trusted. So concurrent with the creation of ICEX and the reorganization of SOG, the CIA commissioned Project Gamma. Also known as Detachment B-57, Gamma was charged with the mission of organizing cross-border counter-intelligence operations to find out who within the Cambodian government was helping the NVA and VC infiltrate and attack Special Forces A camps, recon teams, and agent nets. While posing as medical and agricultural specialists in a “dummy” civil affairs unit, Gamma personnel coordinated intelligence from A teams, identifying the key VCI cadres that were mounting penetration operations against them. Detachment B-57 coordinated its activities with SOG and the various Special Forces projects, including Delta, Sigma, Omega, and Blackjack out of Tay Ninh. In defense of its A camps, Special Forces mounted its own attack on the VCI through a combination of agent nets, “specialized patrolling,” mobile strike forces, and a “kill on sight” rewards program. In this way, SOG and Phoenix were united.
As for the “heavy-handedness” cited by Dillard, on November 27, 1967, Fifth Special Forces Captain John McCarthy was sitting beside his principal agent, Inchin Hai Lam (a Cambodian working for B-57 out of Quang Loi), in the front seat of a car parked on a street in Tay Ninh. A suspected double agent, Lam was a member of the Khmer Serai, a dissident Cambodian political party created by the CIA to overthrow Cambodia’s Prince Sihanouk. Without warning, McCarthy turned and put a bullet between Lam’s eyes.
McCarthy was tried for Lam’s murder, and the ensuing scandal raised questions about the legality of “terminating with extreme prejudice” suspected double agents. The issue would surface again in regard to Phoenix.
Regardless of where the VCI were—in South Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, or North Vietnam—”the idea,” said Dillard, “was that if we knew their pattern and if we could put the fear of God in them, then we could influence their movements so they could never assemble as a battalion. Our forces could resist any company-sized attacks, and that pretty much cut back their capabilities by preventing them from operating at a battalion-level force.”
MACV “could do a fifty-two strike pretty easily,” Dillard explained. And once MACV began using B-52 strikes as a way of harassing VC guerrilla units, “Thereafter we had pretty good evidence that the VC were doing just what we wanted them to do. They were not assembling in large battalion-sized forces, and we could route them around. We continued to try to do that from the summer of 1968 on, and we started getting in some pretty good defectors because of that pressure. The overall coordination was working.”
Indeed, when B-52 strikes were mounted, coordination was essential. For example, the CIA could not run a PRU operation in enemy territory without first consulting MACV, because, as Dillard put it, “it’s conceivable that the operations people have scheduled a strike in that area.” Yet everyone mounted unilateral operations anyway. “An element of the five-twenty-fifth”—Dillard sighed—”their collection and special security unit, was trying to get the VCI to defect—this was in the summer of 1968. They had a lead to a VCI cadre meeting, and they ran the operation, and there was nothing there. We were all called into General Eckhardt’s office to find out who the hell had approved this special operation without Ted Greyman knowing it.
“There’s always that problem,” Dillard contended, “when some outfit perceives that they’re going to pull off a coup. Then it backfires. The damn thing was a total embarrassment. Just like the sale of arms to Iran.”
As long as unilateral operations persisted, Phoenix could never fly. “It was kind of hard at times to determine just who was operating in that environment,” Dillard remarked. “Quite often the main mission of the Special Branch guy may have been to keep tabs on the ARVN people. In the case of the Military Security Service, if I was able to get to the guy through [his counterpart, MSS Colonel] Phuoc or through the Army security unit in the Delta … I would try to push an operation or try to find out what they knew that we were not being informed of. But in the whole time I was there, I was convinced that there was a lot of unilateral reporting that did not get into the U.S. system, whether it was Phoenix or something else. It had to do with the different axes people had to grind.”
CHAPTER 15
Modus Vivendi
The inclusion of the Vietnamese in Phoenix in the summer of 1968 was not welcomed by meticulous CIA security officers. These professional paranoids, Doug Dillard said with a sigh, “did not realize you cannot become so secretive that you can’t even run an operation. We were always aware of the need for secrecy, and where we suspected there was a leak we tried to hold everything as close as possible. But sometimes you just couldn’t do it. You had to plan and coordinate with the Vietnamese to run operations.”1
On the other hand, from the Presidential Palace to the most decrepit DIOCC, VC agents were everywhere. It was a fact that was factored into every equation, it was the rea
son why Phoenix began as a unilateral operation, and it was why the program failed, for Phoenix was not a counterintelligence program meant to uncover enemy agents but a positive intelligence program designed to neutralize the people managing the insurgency.
The job of counterintelligence was shared by the Special Branch and the Military Security Service, with the Special Branch protecting the government and the MSS protecting the South Vietnamese armed forces, at times at cross purposes. For example, like many of his MSS colleagues, Colonel Nguyen Van Phuoc was placed under house arrest and accused of being implicated when Diem and Nhu were assassinated. Afterward Phuoc was “tainted” but was resuscitated by the CIA, which valued him for his contacts, according to Dillard, in “the Catholic intelligence network that extended into Cambodia. As a matter of fact, he offered to bring them into the fold because of the sanctuary that main force guerrilla battalions enjoyed in Cambodia.”
With CIA sponsorship, Phuoc was to enjoy a number of prominent positions, not least as deputy IV Corps commander and counterpart to Doug Dillard and Andy Rogers. But Phuoc lived on the edge and, like Generals Do Cao Tri and Tran Thanh Phong, eventually perished in a mysterious plane accident.
“Colonel Phuoc’s problems on the Vietnamese side were greater than ours because the province chiefs were appointed by the president,” Dillard explained. “There were all kinds of rumors about ‘some bought their jobs,’ and there were other kinds of arrangements, too. There were businesses that flourished and were never bothered by the VC in the provinces, so it was obvious that someone was being paid off.”
In fairness to the Vietnamese, a point should be made about cultural values. For what Americans define as corruption, the Vietnamese consider perfectly proper behavior. Accepting gifts and returning favors—taking bribes and making payoffs—were how, after generations of colonial oppression, Vietnamese officials supplemented measly salaries and supported extended families. The system was a form of prebend, the same right ministers have to a portion of the Sunday offering as a stipend. And rather than fight the system, the CIA compensated for it by paying its Phung Hoang, secret police, and PRU assets exorbitant salaries. Conversely, for the average Vietnamese citizen caught in a war-torn economy, dealing with the Vietcong was a matter of survival. And while this modus vivendi provided American intelligence officers with a line of communication to the enemy, it also gave them migraine headaches.
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