The Chameleon Soldier: NOW AS AN ALIEN BLUE HE CANNOT DIE. (23 page)

“I agree, Killian. But we had to do something. The actions of the CIA are wrong.”

“It’s a difficult task, to take them on,” said Kip.

Maggie sighed. “The CIA’s like the Medusa, you cut off one ugly venomous snake, and then there’s another one, just as ugly and mean.”

“Yes, it’s a vicious circle,” Whelan agreed. “They’re involved in so many things, at the same time, that it’s impossible to stop their operations or even restrict them.”

“I’m afraid things are going to get worse,” added Kip. “The president’s not going to give into them. The talk is he wants to break up the CIA and turn everything over to the Defense Department.”

“He’ll never be able to break them up. They won’t let it happen,” said Maggie.

Whelan nodded. “I agree there are too many unsolved operations, like the ones in Cuba, Vietnam and others, plus the problem with the Mafia. It’s my belief Vietnam is going to escalate into a full-scale war. The CIA created the problems by helping Ngo Dinh Diem and assisting in his being elected president of Vietnam.” He shook his head in disgust. “Now there’s talk of getting rid of him.”

Kip agreed, “Yes, it’s a mess over there.”

“Where does this leave me, Kip?”

“My friend, it looks like we’re out of business.”

“Do you have any idea what you’d like to do, Killian?” asked Whelan.

“If I had a choice, I’d like to go back to my ranch in Texas for a while, but that’s out of the question.”

“I know Zack would love to have you stay at his ranch,” said Maggie.

“I know, and I’ll do it for a short time. Then maybe I’ll do some traveling again.” He paused and looked at Kip. “How was Hawaii?”

“No don’t go there, you’ll never come back,” joked Kip.

“It’s a beautiful place, Killian,” Maggie told him. “You’d love it.”

Killian looked at Whelan and then at Kip. “What about Vietnam? I’m still a SERE instructor. Could I go back there? I’m not military. The General set me up as a civilian trainer.”

“Why would you want to go back there?”

“Kip it’s something I’d like to do,” He grinned as he hesitated. “Right after I get back from Hawaii.”

“You can go to Vietnam,” said Whelan. “I’d still like to know what the hell the CIA’s up to over there. And as far as I’m concerned, our bank account is still open. We can have our own small mission.” Whelan glanced at Kip and Maggie for their approval.

“I know Killian likes to stay active. If that’s what he wants to do then I’m fine with it,” said Kip.

“In the meantime, Killian, have a hell of a good time in Hawaii. You’ll really like those hula girls,” Maggie added, with a wink.

After the failure,
to remove Fidel Castro from power or have him assassinated, CIA Director McComb arranged for the Miami Sheriff’s Office, the Coast Guard, and the FBI to look the other way regarding drug trafficking. He also released all of the CIA’s people, who were being held for violating regulations. Customs laws were to be evaded. Now, along with the drugs, weapons were being smuggled into the country. Director McComb convinced the Mafia that it had been the president and his people, who had fed them the misinformation about Waterton and Spencer informing on their operations. He assured the mob bosses the CIA still wanted their help in assassinating Fidel Castro, and possibly others. He also told the Mafia of his arrangement with law enforcement. He assured them their drug, and now weapon smuggling pipeline was safe, and their profits would be huge.

The CIA knew they had been somewhat compromised and challenged by the new administration. But they were gaining strength through the Cuban exiles that were angry with the president for not backing their invasion of Cuba, with air cover. Now these exiles who had nowhere else to go, became more dependent upon the patronage of the mob and more closely involved with the Mafia crime syndicate, which was once again in the CIA’s corner. McComb’s CIA was set to regain its power, which had been threatened, and now he and his CIA colleagues were willing to do anything to preserve it.

After a two-week vacation, Killian returned to the ranch in Virginia. Zack was glad to have the company of his friend. At dinner a few nights later, Zack, now seventy-nine years old, gazed across the dining table at the young-looking Killian.

“Damn, Killian, I’m really starting to feel my age. Do you think maybe you could squirt a little bit of that bluish-red blood of yours into my veins?” he said, with a chuckle.

Killian smiled. “I don’t think it works that way, Zack.”

“Hell, it’d be worth a try,” Zack said, seriously.

“It would probably kill you, Zack.”

“Shoot, I’m on my way out anyway,” Zack said, with a big grin on his weathered face.

“Don’t talk like that. You still have plenty of good years left in you.”

Zack got up from the table and headed toward the living room. “I’m not too damn sure about that,” he muttered.

Killian grinned as he stood up and followed.

“I’m going to have a shot of Drambuie, want one?”

“Sure.”

Killian picked up the evening newspaper, and sat down on the long brown leather sofa to read the news section. Zack came over, handed Killian a snifter of the liqueur, and sat down in his favorite, overstuffed easy chair.

Nothing was said for a few minutes. Then Killian laid the newspaper in his lap.

“Zack, I don’t think the CIA wants the American public to know what they’re up to in Vietnam. I just read an article that’s buried back on page nine. It’s about their Special Forces, the Green Berets, who have been training minority tribes, the Montagnards, in the Central Highlands in Vietnam, into a Civilian Irregular Defense Group.”

Zack snorted. “Irregular is the key word there, Killian. Those bastards are going to get us involved in a full-scale war over there, a war we don’t want. It’s just like what Whelan said they’d do.”

Killian nodded, took a drink, then picked up the newspaper and continued to read. A few minutes later, he laid it down again.

“There’s an article here written by that reporter, Martin Bradberry. It shows a picture of him in fatigues at what he calls an A-camp, with the Green Berets and the Civilian Irregular Defense Group. It’s a long article about the use of incendiary weapons like napalm B and white phosphorus, but this is the most interesting part. He reports that he, the Special Forces advisers, and the Montagnards were mystified when some of the enemy soldiers, when set on fire with the napalm or phosphorus, burst into flames, which was followed by a bright flash of blue light and a bluish-white ribbon of smoke ascending high up into the sky. When the Montagnards saw it, they were frightened as they believed they’d killed an earthly god or spirit.”

Zack took a drink of the Drambuie and thought for a moment. “Blues?” he asked.

“It has to be. Nothing else would cause that sort of thing to happen.” Killian swished the Drambuie in his glass and took a drink. “I’m thinking Lupan and some of his Blues have joined the North Vietnamese Army. He is animus toward us Americans.”

“Do you think Lupan was one of those killed?”

“I doubt it. He’s too smart to be on the front line. However, they have to have been surprised by the Special Forces using napalm B and white phosphorus. A Blue doesn’t fear knives, bullets or grenades, unless they create fire.”

Zack took a long look at Killian. “You’re going back over there, aren’t you?”

Killian nodded to the affirmative.

“Can’t you wait until after the Christmas holidays?”

“No, my friend, if Lupan’s there, then it’s where I want to be.”

Zack took a drink and shook his head. He was not happy with Killian’s decision to leave for Vietnam. Two days later, in December, 1962, Killian left for Saigon.

T
he CIA had
begun a counter-insurgency experiment in the Central Highlands of South Vietnam during 1961. It was under the direction of their United States Special Forces, the Green Berets, who were not part of the regular U.S. Army. The Green Berets worked for the Defense Department and were handled and supplied by the CIA. They did not report to any Army brass.

The new operation was called the Civilian Irregular Defense Group (CIDG). It was a counter-insurgency program, necessitated by the fear that the Viet Cong would recruit the many tribes of the Montagnards and other minority groups who populated the Central Highlands. These tribesmen hated both the North and South Vietnamese peoples, who had treated them viciously in the past and had driven them into the mountains.

The Central Highlands was a strategic area in the conflict with the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army. The Green Berets “A team” organized and trained the tribesmen and established fortified camps in the interior and along the western border of the South Vietnamese Central Highlands. The Montagnards quickly learned how to use automatic weapons and be able to counter guerrilla fighting tactics.

A mutual respect and loyalty grew between the Green Berets advisers and the tribesmen. The Montagnards liked and looked up to their American advisers. The “Yards”, as the Americans affectionately called the Montagnards, had little fear of death and eagerly took to the fighting against their hated enemy, the Vietnamese. As the tribesmen had little experience in using money, they were paid in new clothing, food and other hard goods, in exchange for their military service. The Green Berets also won over the Montagnards by setting up schools and hospitals in their small villages.

The Montagnards and other minorities were formed into military companies of one hundred and fifty to two hundred men. Along with their Green Beret advisers, they established a string of static camps along South Vietnam’s border with Laos and Cambodia. Their primary aims were enemy surveillance and impeding the North Vietnamese Army when bringing in supplies and moving troops into South Vietnam by way of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. The static camps were constant targets of raids from the North Vietnamese Army from the north and from the Viet Cong, who fought mostly in the more populated low marshlands near the villages. Many fierce battles took place in and around the static camps.

Soon after arriving in Vietnam, Killian was able to hook up with this Special Forces group, whose two to three-week missions included ambushes, reconnaissance and combat patrol. As he traveled and fought with the Montagnards and their advisers, he learned the tribesmen were a well-trained, quick-reaction force, who retaliated swiftly after attacks by the enemy on local villages. During their many battles, Killian never encountered Lupan, or any other Blue Warriors.

Ten months later, Killian returned to Saigon. He was going back to the States for a special occasion. The day before leaving Vietnam, he had lunch at the My Canh Café, a floating restaurant on the banks of the Saigon River. As he was finishing eating, he recognized a man sitting at a corner table. The man was smoking a cigarette and casually writing in a large notebook. It was the newspaper reporter Martin Bradberry, who had written the article he’d read months earlier. Killian stood up and walked over to the reporter’s table.

“Mr. Bradberry, I’m Killian Kilkenny,” he said, extending his hand.

Martin Bradberry looked up from his notebook, and saw a tall, red-bearded man with the SERE instructor’s patch on his uniform shirt. He shook Killian’s hand.

“Killian, good to know you,” said the slightly balding, wiry reporter.

“I read your article a year and a half ago about the enemy soldiers who mysteriously disappeared into thin air after being set on fire. I was wondering if I could talk to you about it.”

“Sure. Have a seat,” invited Bradberry, gesturing to a wooden chair across from him.

Killian sat down. “I returned from the Central Highlands recently. For the past few months, I’ve been instructing and going out on missions with Green Beret advisers and the Montagnards.”

Bradberry smiled. “Quite an experience, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I hadn’t realized the fighting was so intense, and I learned the Montagnards are a proud, brave and fearless people.”

“That they are,” replied Bradberry.

Nothing was said for a few seconds.

“Will you tell me about that incident, about the enemy soldiers disappearing?” asked Killian.

“Yes. It didn’t happen just once, but twice. The first time the Green Beret advisers, the Montagnard soldiers and I saw it, we thought it was very weird. We were on a hill looking down on the North Vietnamese Army who was approaching through the elephant grass. A Special Forces officer had called TAC AIR to lay down napalm B on the enemy, who were in the dry grass. It was very effective. The field turned into an inferno. Most of the North Vietnamese soldiers retreated, but many of them were trapped in the blaze. We could hear their screams—and then an odd thing happened which caught our attention. We thought we heard wolves howling, and then there were five or six large bursts of bright blue light from one area of the burning grass. A ribbon of bluish-white smoke ascended up into the sky. We watched it rise for seven or eight seconds before it disappeared. It was something none of us had seen before. It was very odd.”

“And the second time, was it the same or different?”