Phoenix Program (72 page)

Phoenix had gone underground, but the bodies it corralled were impossible to hide—despite the efforts of Ambassador Graham Martin, who on July 25, 1974, told the Senate Foreign Relations Committee that “we found no one in prison” who could be regarded as a political prisoner and that charges that there were two hundred thousand political prisoners were part of a Communist propaganda campaign “deliberately designed to force the American Congress to limit economic aid.”

Refuting Martin's assertions was David Shipler, who cited one instance after another of perverse torture of women and men—mostly teachers, students, and union workers—in Saigon's First Precinct headquarters. Shipler interviewed Tran Tuan Nham, jailed in 1971 (while running for the National Assembly) by police who cited his anti-American articles as evidence that he was a Communist. Nham wrote about the CIA's involvement in My Lai and the harmful effects of defoliants. Shipler told of another writer “held for three years after he had written newspaper and magazine articles arguing that Vietnamese culture must be preserved against Americanization.” And Shipler wrote about a woman arrested in Saigon, taken to the Kien Chuong PIC twenty-two miles away, and viciously, sadistically tortured for absolutely no reason whatsoever, other than for the pleasure of the torturers.

Wrote Shipler: “[D]issidents who are free to speak out say they are mere ornaments, that whenever they begin to accrue political power the police arrest the lesser figures around them, break up their meetings and leave them isolated.” The leaders themselves were targeted for assassination.

In his follow-up article on August 20,
TO SAIGON, ALL DISSENTERS ARE FOES, ALL FOES ARE REDS,
Shipler explained that GVN security forces believed that only Communists opposed Thieu. He quoted Thieu as saying that “the 19.5 million South Vietnamese people should be molded into a monolithic bloc, motivated by a single anti-Communist ideal.” Shipler then told how security forces saw Communists—to whom they attributed superhuman powers of deviousness and persuasion—everywhere. And not only were all dissenters Communists, but according to a PRU officer working with the Special Branch, “all dissidents are opportunists.”

In reality, soaring inflation—resulting from a lack of U.S. aid—had made mere survival the single ideal uniting the Vietnamese people. Even CIA-supported Special Branch officers were feeling the pinch and in order to make ends meet were packing the jails with “opportunists” who they held for ransom. Shipler described a visit he made to see a group of “opportunists” held for ransom in the Chi Hoa jail. The “movie room” where they were being held was eighteen by twenty-four feet, dimly lit by a single bulb, full of mosquitoes, and the stench of urine and feces on the floor was so bad that the prisoners—all of whom were shackled by one leg to an iron bar running the length of the wall—couldn't breathe. Friends and relatives of prisoners, and “VCI” suspects, were required to report to the Special Branch, then extorted. Indeed, by 1974 there was no middle ground in Vietnam—just the rising blood pressure of a body politic about to suffer a massive coronary thrombosis.

At the same time that the financial supports were being kicked out from under the Thieu regime in Saigon, USAID's Office of Public Safety was put on the chopping block. The process had begun in 1969, when Public Safety adviser Dan Mitrione was captured and killed in Uruguay by guerrillas who claimed he was an undercover CIA officer teaching torture techniques to the secret police. A 1970 movie titled
State of Siege,
which dramatized the Mitrione episode and showed International Police Academy (IPA) graduates torturing political prisoners, brought attention to the practices of the IPA. Consequently, according to Doug McCollum, the State Department “developed animosity toward Public Safety people,” and many contracts, including McCollum's, were not renewed.
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Charges that the IPA taught torture and political repression gained credence in August 1974, when columnist Jack Anderson printed excerpts from several student papers written at the academy. Wrote one student from South Vietnam: “Based on experience, we are convinced there is just one sure way to save time and suppress stubborn criminal suspects—that is the proper use of threats and force.”

On October 2, 1974, Senator James Abourezk inserted into the
Congressional Record
the words of National Policeman Le Van An. Said Le: “Despite the fact that brutal interrogation is strongly criticized by moralists, its importance must not be denied if we want to have order and security in daily life.”
⁹

In 1972 senior Field Police adviser William Grieves was scheduled for reassignment to Bangkok. “But,” he told me, “the ambassador wouldn't let me in because the CIA held a grudge.” Instead, Grieves was sent to Washington as deputy to Public Safety chief Byron Engel. Said Grieves: “I lost all respect for Byron Engel. He'd been too long in CIA. He was always asking
me to have so-and-so bring things back from Hong Kong, and he was rude to congressmen.” But the worst thing, according to Grieves, was Engel's attempt to “rewrite history.”
¹⁰

And history was rewritten. The IPA was abolished but, like a Phoenix, was reborn in the guise of a new organization called the Law Enforcement Assistance Administration.

Despite its ability to regenerate and survive, the CIA was taking its lumps in 1974, too. Richard Helms was accused and later convicted on perjury charges after William Colby admitted that the agency had spent eight million dollars to “destabilize” Allende's regime in Chile. Colby himself was under attack, not only for alleged Phoenix-related war crimes but for having censored John Marks's book
The Cult of Intelligence
and for trying to block publication of Philip Agee's
CIA Diary.

Agee in particular was despised by his CIA colleagues for saying, in an interview with
Playboy
magazine, that there was “a strong possibility that the CIA station in Chile helped supply the assassination lists.” Agee asserted that the CIA “trains and equips saboteurs and bomb squads” and that the CIA had “assassinated thousands of people …. When the history of the CIA's support of torturers gets written,” Agee predicted, “it'll be the all-time horror story.
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“Thousands of policemen all over the world,” Agee said, “are shadowing people for the CIA without knowing it. They think they're working for their own police departments when, in fact, their chief may be a CIA agent who's sending them out on CIA jobs and turning the information over to his CIA control.”

Some of those people were Special Branch officers in Vietnam. For example, in August 1974, Colonel Ben Hamilton prepared a report titled “Results of Communist Infrastructure Neutralization Efforts Made by Phoenix Committees” for Colonel Doug Dillard at 500th MIG headquarters. The report cited the number of neutralizations from February 15 through May 31, 1974. The source of the information was a “friendly Foreign Intelligence agency,” meaning the National Phoenix Committee under Colonel Nguyen Van Giau, who signed the report and sent it to the Directorate of Political Security. Noting that the figures were probably “inflated,” Hamilton sent the report to the CIA, the Defense Intelligence Agency, and the acting chief of staff for intelligence at the Pentagon. According to the report, I Corps tallied 39 percent of its yearly quota from February till May. In II Corps Binh Thuan Province racked up 54 percent of its yearly goal, with 39 convictions, 47 killed, and 29 rallied. In III Corps Phuoc Long Province tallied 3 VCI killed and 2 rallied, and in IV Corps, 169 VCI were killed in Chuong Thien Province.

In September 1974 William Colby was asked by a panel of citizens why
Watergate burglar and CIA officer James McCord's personnel records had been burned by CIA officer Lee Pennington immediately after the break-in and why the CIA had destroyed tapes of Richard Helms instructing Nixon and John Erhlichman how to respond to congressional inquiries. They asked Colby to defend CIA financing of the National Student Association, and he responded by citing Point 5 of the National Security Act, which allows the CIA to perform “functions and duties related to intelligence affecting the national security as the National Security Council may from time to time direct.”

Senator James Abourezk asked Colby, “But you do undertake activities overseas that would be crimes in this country?”

Replied Colby: “Of course. Espionage is a crime in this country.”
¹²

A
BOUREZK
: “Other than espionage?”

C
OLBY
: “Of course.” Added Colby: “I think … the use of an atomic bomb is justified in the interest of national security, and I think going down from there is quite a realm of things you can do in the reasonable defense of the country.”

Asked John Marks: “But in peacetime?”

On January 6, 1975, the NVA overran Phuoc Long Province.

A few days later UPI reporter Robert Kaylor reported that the United States was still involved with “the ill-famed Phoenix program,” that the program had been renamed the “Special Police Investigative Service (SPIS)” and was being conducted by fourteen thousand special troops whose operations are monitored on a part-time basis by CIA operatives in Saigon and in provincial capitals throughout the country. According to Kaylor, “The U.S. also provides data processing facilities for SPIS through a contractor, Computer Science Services Inc.,” which “runs intelligence reports through its machines to classify and collate them and then turns the material over to SPIS.”
¹³

Writes Kaylor: “According to sources here, about 100 American personnel are now involved in monitoring the program. They said that overall responsibility for watching it rests with a U.S. Air Force officer on detached duty with the American Embassy in Saigon.”

When Ambassador Martin read Kaylor's article, he immediately sent a telegram to Washington calling Kaylor's article “journalistic fiction” and assured the State Department that, as regarded Phoenix, “No element of the U.S. Government is involved in any way with any program in Vietnam of any such description.”
¹⁴
As for the Special Police, “The U.S. Government has no relationships to this organization whatsoever.” According to Martin, “There is no U.S. Air Force officer on detached duty,” and as for the Computer Science Corporation (CSC), it merely contracted with the National
Police “in logistics and personnel.” Said Martin: “At the present time, CSC … is uninvolved in any counter-insurgency or other operational matters.”

On March 10, 1975, the NVA overran Ban Me Thuot. In desperation, Ted Serong drew up a plan to abandon the Central Highlands and withdraw all ARVN forces to cities along the coast. The South Vietnamese agreed, opening the floodgates to the NVA. Hue fell on March 25. Chu Lai and Quang Ngai City fell on the same day, amid attacks by the South Vietnamese against CIA officers who abandoned their records and agents. Within hours all that remained in I Corps was Da Nang. II Corps was going down just as fast. Kontum and Pleiku had fallen two weeks earlier, and thirteen province capitals were to be gone by April. The Third NVA Division was heading toward Qui Nhon, and a million refugees were fleeing toward Nha Trang.

In Da Nang the scene was one of fire, murder, looting, and rape. ARVN soldiers had seized the airport control tower, and planes meant to evacuate them were frozen on the ground. CIA helicopters were ferrying Americans out of the city, abandoning their Vietnamese assets. Thousands of panicked people moved to the waterfront, piled onto piers and barges, dived into the water, tried to swim to boats. Hundreds of bodies were later washed up on the shore. The CIA contingent joined the exodus, fleeing their quarters while their Nung guards fired shots at their heels. At Marble Mountain airstrip the consul general was beaten into unconsciousness by ARVN soldiers. By March 29 Da Nang was defenseless and being shelled. By the thirtieth Special Branch and Military Security Service officers were being rounded up and shot by NVA security officers.

On March 29 PVT found himself stranded in Da Nang, on the verge of a harrowing experience. “The ranger and airborne generals left, saying they had to go to a meeting,” he recalled. “We were told to wait for orders, but they didn't come. After that there was no coordination.”
¹⁵
Growing impatient, PVT and eight members of his PRU team made their way with Police Chief Nguyen to police headquarters. But “They were all gone.” Knowing they had been abandoned, PVT and his comrades decided to stick together and fight their way out. Taking charge, PVT led the group to the waterfront, where, by force of arms, they commandeered a boat and set off down the river into the bay. That night they were picked up by a U.S. Navy vessel crowded with refugees. On April 2 the ship disembarked its human cargo at Cam Ranh Bay. PVT and his crew began walking south down Route 1 but were stopped at gunpoint at an ARVN checkpoint; no one was being allowed to leave the city. Luckily, though, PVT was recognized by an ARVN commander, who put them on a truck going to Nha Trang. Several hours later they arrived there only to find that the American Embassy had been abandoned the day before. Nha Trang would be bypassed by the NVA on its way to Cam Ranh.

With cities in II Corps falling like dominoes, PVT led his group to the home of another friend, Colonel Pham, the Khanh Hoa province chief. After curfew Colonel Pham loaded his own family along with PVT's PRU team in the back of a truck, drove them to the dock, and put them on a ship bound for Vung Tau. PVT could think of nothing else but getting to Saigon and arranging safe passage for his family out of Vietnam. Upon arriving off the coast of Vung Tau, however, PVT and his companions were informed that all traffic to Saigon, both by river and by road, had been cut. In Washington the CIA's Far East Division chief Ted Shackley had ordered the city sealed off from refugees. His heart sinking as fast as Vietnam, PVT sailed off toward Phu Quoc Island.