Phoenix Program (46 page)

Abutting Precinct 1 on the east was Gia Dinh Province, fiefdom of Major James K. Damron, whom Roberts described in an interview with the author as “the agency's man in Gia Dinh” and “a warlord who went overboard and built a tremendous building. But he played from a position of power,” Roberts said. “He demanded total loyalty from his people, and the Vietnamese respected that and were terribly loyal to him.” Majors James Damron and Danny Pierce—who served as deputy coordinator of the Capital Phung Hoang Committee—were “business partners.”
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Roberts described Danny Pierce as “an operator” who “abused the system.” An officer in the Mormon Church, Pierce was linked to the black-market supply and service industry through a secret “ring-knock” identification system. Pierce was allegedly fired for possession of a stolen jeep traced to the SOG motor pool located at 10 Hoang Hoa Tam Street, where the Army Counterintelligence Corps had originally set up shop in Vietnam in 1962.

In early 1969 Captain Roberts replaced Major Danny Pierce as the Capital Phung Hoang Committee deputy coordinator. Thereafter once a month Roberts visited the Gia Dinh Province embassy house to exchange information with warlord Damron, until Damron himself was reassigned by William Colby in early 1969 to an administrative post in the IV Corps Phoenix program.

Unlike his freewheeling predecessor, who had fallen under the influence of the CIA, Shelby Roberts was not a member of the Phoenix Directorate. In an effort to achieve greater control over the program, MACV had Roberts report to John O'Keefe on operational matters, while reporting administratively to the chief of MACV's Saigon Capital Advisory Group (SCAG). As a result, Roberts was not as closely involved in CIA operations in Saigon as Pierce had been. But he was collocated with O'Keefe, and he did have insights into the CIA side of Phoenix operations in Saigon.

“My office was behind City Hall, on the floor below O'Keefe's office,” Roberts recalled. “We had about twenty Vietnamese employees, eight in the translation section, the rest doing clerical work.” The officer representing the Phoenix Directorate in Saigon was Lieutenant Colonel William Singleton, whom Roberts described as “working on the operations side, in covert activities. He had safe houses and a plantation house with a small staff.” A tall man from Tennessee, Singleton was “particularly interested in Cholon.” The Special Branch officer running Phoenix operations in Saigon was Captain
Pham Quat Tan, a former ARVN intelligence and psywar officer featured in a January 12, 1968,
Life
magazine article.

According to Roberts, Phoenix in the Capital Military District was entirely a CIA operation run out of Special Branch headquarters. “We fed nothing to the Phoenix Directorate,” Roberts said. “The reports all went back to the Combined Intelligence Center, or I would give a briefing to O'Keefe, and he'd go to the embassy, to the sixth floor”—where analysts in the station's special unit sifted through names and chose candidates for penetration.

Anti-infrastructure operations in Saigon were difficult at best. The city had ten precincts, with those outside downtown Saigon resembling the suburbs in Go Vap District, as described by Henry McWade. Security in outlying precincts was maintained not by the Metropolitan Police but by the paramilitary Order Police patrolling in armored cars, American infantry brigades, and ranger battalions. There was a strict curfew, and in the aftermath of Tet new interrogation centers were built in all of Saigon's precincts. In Precinct 1 a large interrogation center was built by Pacific Architects and Engineers directly behind the U.S. Embassy. In other precincts interrogation centers were constructed “under existing roofs.” In either case Roberts tended to avoid them. “I was reluctant to get involved because the Special Branch tried to use me during interrogations. They'd say, ‘If you think we're bad, he'll cook you and eat you!' So I didn't care to participate.”

Each precinct had wards called
phung,
which were further subdivided into
khung,
a group of families, usually ten, which the Special Branch monitored through “family books” maintained by the Metropolitan Police. The finished product of the Family Census program, family books contained biographical information and a photograph of every family member. One of the
khung
families was responsible for keeping track of visitors to the other families, and on the basis of these family books, the Special Branch compiled blacklists of suspected VCI members.

In discussing the tactics of the Special Branch, Shelby Roberts said, “They ran all their operations at night. They'd turn the floodlights on, tear down entire neighborhoods … and arrest entire families. They were mainly interested in shakedowns. The ‘Send your daughter to my office'-type harassment. And making money on the side. Everyone,” Roberts added, “was in the black market.”

There were other intrigues. “We chased commo-liaison people,” Roberts explained, “and if we caught them, the police would get reward money and money for their captured weapons. This led to the same weapons being turned in over and over again. Over half a million were paid for, but there were less than a quarter million at the armory.” Meanwhile, “The Special Branch hid information from us so it wouldn't go up to O'Keefe and the CIA. It was
common knowledge that if you gave good information to Phoenix, you wouldn't get the reward money.” And that, according to Roberts, “was the death of the program.”

Despite its heavy-handed methods, “The Special Branch was considered a white-collar job,” Roberts explained, “whereas the Saigon Metropolitan Police … were looked down upon.” So out of spite the Metropolitan Police turned from law enforcement to graft. Precinct chiefs sold licenses for every conceivable enterprise, from market stalls to restaurants and hotels, and managed prostitution, gambling, and narcotics rackets. The police were paid off by the crooks and the Vietcong alike. As a result, according to Roberts, “They got no respect. They were so corrupt they tried to corrupt the Phoenix coordinators.”

Making matters worse, Roberts said, was the fact that when information on suspected VCI members was forthcoming, Phoenix coordinators—reflecting the CIA's desire to have total control over sources that might generate strategic intelligence—were told to ignore it. This prohibition and the frustration it caused, plus the fact that the police tried to bribe the precinct coordinators, resulted in more than twenty Phoenix advisers passing through Saigon's ten precincts in 1969. Most lasted only a few weeks, although those who were suborned by the CIA held their jobs for years. For example, Captain Keith Lange, who replaced Roberts in Precinct 1, was “pulling off national-level operations” for two and a half years. On the other hand, Roberts put Captain Daniel Moynihan in Precinct 2, “so I could watch him, because he had trouble with finance.”

Indeed, money was the answer to, and cause of, all problems in Saigon. Insofar as AID withdrew its Public Safety advisers from Saigon after Tet, Roberts said, “We, the Phoenix coordinators, were the only Americans in the precincts. Some guys were so busy they slept in their offices.” And because the CIA was no longer disbursing funds through AID, Phoenix coordinators by default became the conduit of monetary aid to the National Police and the Special Branch. “So the police chiefs really liked us a lot,” Roberts added.

Phoenix coordinators also became the conduit for AID funds ostensibly destined for community development, refugee, and health programs. In reality, the money bought information and influence. Roberts recalled one housing project in an area of Cholon that had been leveled during Tet. The cost was $150,000. Roberts got the money from CIA finance officer General Monopoly at the embassy annex. “Short, potbellied, and in his sixties,” General Monopoly “sat in the same seat every night at the Cosmos. He was there at three o'clock every day drinking scotches with Damron, Singleton, and O'Keefe.”

As the pursuit of money began to rival the pursuit of intelligence, a new
twist was added to The Game, as the competition for intelligence sources was called. “Especially in Precinct Five [which encompassed Cholon],” Roberts said, “we'd get U.S. deserters working with the VCI through the black market. They were dealing arms and supplies from the PX. We knew of five deserters in Cholon. Each one was operating with several IDs. The MPs and CID ran a number of operations to get one guy in particular. He would sneak, past guards, masquerading as an enlisted man. And he was actually detained several times. But because he had phony ID, he was always released.”

There may be another reason why this traitor was never caught. It has to do with the CIA's practice of nurturing deviant communities as a source of assassins. John Berry quotes one such “contractor” in his book
Those Gallant Men on Trial in Vietnam:
“Well, I walk behind this screen and I don't see this guy's face, but he give me 5,000 piasters and a picture and an address, and I go kill the dude and then go get my other 5,000.”
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With Vietnamization, Phoenix came under closer scrutiny. The repercussions were evident everywhere. Toward the end of 1968, Henry McWade recalled, “Major Damron got into a power play for intelligence resources”
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and Damron's bosses reached the conclusion that he was all smoke and mirrors.

“Damron was losing control,” McWade explained. “So he put the blame on us, the DIOCC advisers, to gain time and space for himself. We were sacrificed.” A few days later McWade and a group of scapegoats (not including John Cook) were transferred out of Gia Dinh to other provinces. McWade landed in Hau Nghia in III Corps as deputy to the province Phoenix coordinator, Captain Daniel L. Smith.

Back in Gia Dinh, Damron and his loyalists were hunkering down. But Colby was intent on cleaning house, and Damron was transferred out of Gia Dinh. Doug Dillard recalled the scandal precipitated by Damron's infamous excesses: “I'll never forget Colby's admonition to us on one of his visits down in the Delta. Up in Three Corps there was an agency guy who had built a magnificent building with a helicopter landing pad on the roof. And Colby said, ‘There ain't gonna be any more monuments built in Vietnam. I'm glad to see you guys have a conservative program for just getting the job done.' “
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Ironically, the new Gia Dinh province officer in charge proved more troublesome for Colby than Damron. For whereas Damron was guilty of mere greed, the new province officer was prey to a far more dangerous master: his conscience. A veteran CIA paramilitary officer, Ralph McGehee had already spent fifteen years fighting the Holy War in a number of Asian countries when he arrived in Vietnam in October 1968. His biggest success had been in Thailand, where he had developed survey teams for rooting out the Communist infrastructure. McGehee's survey teams consisted of police,
military, and security officials who entered Thai border towns to “interrogate anyone over ten years old”
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about Communist efforts to organize secret political cells. However, in a cruel twist of fate which engendered his crisis of faith and his fall from grace, McGehee naively relayed information uncovered by his survey teams indicating that the Communist insurgency had overwhelming popular support. Although accurate in their assessment of the situation, his reports defied policy and were summarily dismissed by his bosses in Washington. Feeling rejected, McGehee arrived in Saigon teetering on the brink of heresy. What he saw of Phoenix pushed him over the edge.

As the CIA's Gia Dinh province officer in charge, McGehee reported to the CIA's III Corps ROIC; as the Gia Dinh Province Phoenix coordinator, he reported to the CORDS province senior adviser. In his book
Deadly Deceits,
he writes that “the primary CORDS program was the Phoenix operation” and that “CIA money was the catalyst.”
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But McGehee's problem with Phoenix had nothing to do with the attack on the infrastructure; in an interview for this book, he said the PRU program “was admirable.” McGehee's gripe was that “the agency was not allowed to report the truth.”

Writes McGehee: “The assignment to Gia Dinh gave me the opportunity to see how the agency's intelligence program worked, or more accurately how it did not work at that level. One or two sentence intelligence reports poured in, were translated, and were filed or thrown away. A typical report, one of hundreds like it received each week, said: ‘Two armed VC were seen moving south of the village of … this morning.' A massive agency/CORDS/ Phoenix file system processed this daily flow of nonsense. Collation and analysis never applied. I wondered how this intelligence effort could possibly give our leaders and generals anything even approaching an accurate picture of what was going on.
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“Our policy,” McGehee deduced, “was based on ‘intelligence' reports of the numbers of communists in Vietnam that had nothing to do with reality. Either they were the result of unbelievable incompetence or they were deliberate lies created to dupe the American people.”
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McGehee settled on the second explanation, a belief he shares with Sam Adams, the controversial CIA analyst who quit the agency in 1973 in protest over what he claimed was “the sloppy and often dishonest way U.S. intelligence conducted research on the struggle in Indochina.”
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A member of George Carver's SAVA staff, Adams wrote the CIA's handbook on the VCI and for five years taught a class on the VCI to CIA case officers bound for Vietnam. After quitting the agency, Adams claimed that the CIA had falsified statistics, and in 1982 in a CBS documentary called
The Uncounted Enemy: A Vietnam Deception,
he accused General William Westmoreland of a deliberate cover-up. Humiliated, Westmoreland filed his famous $120 million libel suit against CBS.

The origins of the “Vietnam deception” date back to January 11, 1967, when SAVA director Carver wrote a memo, introduced as evidence at the Westmoreland trial, indicating that the number of confirmed Vietcong, put at over a quarter of a million by MACV, was “far too low and should be raised, perhaps doubled.” Despite indications presented by General McChristian substantiating the CIA estimate, MACV rejected it and instead, by excluding Vietcong Self-Defense Forces from its order of battle, contrived a lower number. CIA analysts persisted in arguing for an estimate approaching half a million, and a stalemate ensued until August 30, 1967, when Director of Central Intelligence Richard Helms, describing the issue as “charged with political and public relations overtones,”
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arranged for Carver to lead a delegation of senior intelligence officers to Saigon to negotiate an agreement on the exact size of NVA and VC forces.