Phoenix Program

by Douglas Valentine

  Here it is worthwhile to pause and realize that one reason the Vietnamese were slow in creating their own version of the Phoenix Directorate was their difficulty in finding a suitable translation for the word “infrastructure.” To solve the problem, President Thieu appointed a commission consisting of senior American and Vietnamese intelligence officials. Attending as an interpreter-translator was Robert Slater.

  “After five lengthy and rather hot (both in temperature and temperament) sessions,” Slater writes, “a decision was reached that the term that was presently in use would be retained. The Vietnamese term was ha tang co so… meaning ‘the lower layer of an installation’ or ‘the underlying foundation.’” According to Slater, this misinterpretation was the “crux of the problem in the Allied attack against the VCI. If the South Vietnamese government cannot get across to the South Vietnamese people the danger of the VCI through an adequately descriptive word, then how can they hope to combat them?”20

  The “crux” of the problem, of course, was not a lack of understanding on the part of the Vietnamese but the fact that the Americans insisted on defining the VCI in terms that conformed to their ideological preconceptions. Ed Brady put the problem in perspective when he explained that for the Vietnamese, “Committees at lower levels are the infrastructure of any higher-level committee.” In other words, village committees are the infrastructure of district committees, district committees of province committees, and so on ad nauseam. According to Brady, “The word ‘infrastructure’ drew no distinctions at all, and whatever level the VCI existed at depended solely on each individual’s own semantic interpretation.”21

  “They were writing documents,” Inman said, “and sending them down for translations, but no one understood what the word ‘infrastructure’ meant, and no one dared go back to Khiem and say, ‘I don’t understand.’ Tan said to me, ‘What is this infrastructure?’ They were looking it up in the dictionary and coming up with highways and electrical systems and such…. I said, ‘It’s their leaders.’

  “And Tan said, ‘Oh. Can bo. “Cadre.” That’s what we call them.’”

  What Thieu’s national commission could not resolve in five days, two lieutenant colonels resolved in five minutes. Next, Inman said, “Tan introduced me to a major who was Thieu’s personal chief of staff. Tan, this major, and I sat down and wrote up Thieu’s Presidential Directive.* Then this major got the papers to Thieu. The papers were issued in July, and Tan moved into the National Police Interrogation Center, with about ten senior people from Special Branch, as Khiem’s man in charge of Phung Hoang. Duong Tan Huu [a former precinct chief in Saigon and, before that, Nha Trang police chief] was assigned as the senior National Police officer. Major Pham Van Cao became the day-to-day manager of the Phung Hoang Office, and I spent the next eight months there as liaison to the Vietnamese national-level staff.”

  A self-proclaimed “true believer” in the right of the Vietnamese to settle their own affairs, Inman had little to do with the U.S. side of Phoenix. “I was mostly at NPIC headquarters,” he stated. “My role was as salesman. I’d check in with George French for thirty minutes in the morning, sometimes only once or twice a week. I’d get input through him from a lot of people; he’d say, ‘Sell this to the Vietnamese.’ I’d channel policies and directives and manuals from French—all in English—over to the Phung Hoang Office, and they translated them. Then I’d spend time getting everybody to read and understand and sign off on them. I’d run them past Census Grievance and RD, Field Police and Special Branch, the Interior Ministry and ARVN, and everybody would sign off.” And that is how the Vietnamese Phung Hoang Office got its marching orders from Colby and the Phoenix Directorate.

  The other reason why the Vietnamese were slow in creating the Phung Hoang Office concerned the struggle between President Thieu and Vice President Ky, a struggle that in 1968 reflected changes in the relationship between America and South Vietnam brought about by Tet. The first signs of realignment appeared when President Johnson withdrew from the presidential campaign, at which point his influence in Saigon began to wane. Johnson, however, remained committed to a negotiated settlement because success at the bargaining table was the Democratic party’s only chance of getting Hubert Humphrey elected.

  But Republican candidate Richard Nixon seized the issue and used it to subvert the Democrats. The darling of the Kuomintang-financed China Lobby, Nixon, through intermediaries in Saigon, persuaded Thieu to postpone negotiations until after the elections, assuring himself the presidency of the United States, at the expense of prolonging the Vietnam War.

  Reflecting those developments in Washington, a similar political realignment began in Saigon in May 1968, when the VC initiated a second wave of attacks on Saigon, and Thieu, writes Professor Huy, “as usual had no quick response.” But Ky did react decisively. “He tried to mobilize young people for the defense of Saigon and received a favorable response.”22

  “With Tet,” said Tully Acampora, “Loan made a comeback. Thieu was in another camp, watching and waiting. Through February the attacks increased, and by May, with the second offensive, Loan thinks he can walk on water. Then he gets shot outside of MSS headquarters, and that’s the beginning of the end. It’s all downhill after that.”

  On May 5, 1968* General Nguyen Ngoc Loan was seriously wounded and quickly replaced as director general of the National Police by Interior Minister Khiem, who appointed his own man, Colonel Tran Van Pham. Next, writes Professor Huy, Thieu “began his plan to weaken Ky.”23 His first move was to dismiss Prime Minister Loc and replace him with Tran Van Huong, a former mayor of Saigon and a bitter enemy of Ky’s. During the 1967 elections Ky had coerced “peace” candidate Truong Dinh Dzu into pressing blackmail charges against Huong. And so, as soon as he was appointed prime minister, Huong tasted sweet revenge by dismissing most of Ky’s backers in the administration.

  “Then,” writes Huy, “Ky received a new blow when several officers loyal to him and serving in the Saigon police were killed at the beginning of June in Cholon during their campaign against the second attack of the Communists. They were killed by a rocket launched from an American helicopter. Apparently this was a mistake, but many people thought it was due to the American decision to help Thieu against Ky.”24

  The incident occurred on June 2, 1968, when a rocket fired from a U.S. Marine helicopter gunship “malfunctioned” and slammed into a wall in a schoolyard on Kuong To Street. The wall collapsed, killing seven high-ranking officials who had been invited by the Americans to the battlefront in the belief that the VCI leadership was hiding in the home of the Buddhist leader Tri Quang. Killed were Pho Quoc Chu, Loan’s brother-in-law and chief of the Port Authority; Lieutenant Colonel Dao Ba Phouc, commander of the Fifth Ranger Battalion; Lieutenant Colonel Nguyen Van Luan, Saigon police chief; Major Le Ngoc Tru, Cholon police chief and Loan’s personal aide; Major Nguyen Ngoc Xinh, Combined Security Committee and First Precinct police chief; and Major Nguyen Bao Thuy, chief of staff to Lieutenant Colonel Van Van Cua, Loan’s brother-in-law and the mayor of Saigon,

  Four days later President Thieu appointed Colonel Tran Van Hai director general of the National Police. On the same day that he took office, Hai dismissed Ky’s eight remaining police chiefs in Saigon and replaced Special Branch chief Nguyen Tien with his friend Major Nguyen Mau, who refused to accept Phoenix within the Special Branch and instead incorporated the Combined Intelligence Staff within a new Capital Military District Command (CMDC).

  A by-product of Tet, the Capital Military District was formed for two reasons: to organize better the resources against the VCI cadres that had aided VC sapper units during Tet and to regulate the half million refugees produced during Tet and pouring into Saigon. It was also with the creation of the Capital Military District that Thieu and Khiem wrenched control away from Ky and Loan once and for all. Encompassing Saigon’s nine precincts and Gia Dinh Province, the CMD had as its American counterparts MACV’s Capital Military Assistance Command and a Phung Hoang
committee in First Precinct Headquarters. Prior to the CMD, Phoenix personnel from Gia Dinh Province had patrolled Saigon’s precincts on a circuit rider basis; as of June 1968, Phoenix advisers were placed in DIOCCs in each of the precincts. Phoenix precinct advisers reported to Lieutenant Colonel William Singleton through his deputy, Major Danny L. Pierce, whom Robert Inman describes as “an active Mormon who traveled all over the country on Sundays holding services.” In this capacity, Inman informs us, “Singleton and Pierce were involved directly in intelligence and reaction operations in the back alleys of Saigon.”

  CIA operations in the Capital Military District—aka Region Five—were managed by a series of veteran CIA officers under their cover boss, Hatcher James, the senior USAID adviser to the mayor of Saigon. Headquartered behind City Hall, the Region Five officer in charge monitored all Phoenix operations in the Capital Military District.

  A few days after the CMD was created, General Nguyen Khac Binh was appointed director of the CIO and quickly conferred upon station chief Lou Lapham “a charge from Thieu to run intelligence operations anywhere in the country, going after the big ones.”

  With Ky’s people in the grave or the hospital, President Thieu began to shape the government of Vietnam in his own image, appointing ministers, police and province chiefs, and military commanders who would do his bidding. Also, by issuing Law 280, Thieu lifted the monkey off the U.S. Embassy’s back, and in return, the Americans looked away when he began persecuting domestic opponents whose “compatible left” political organizations fell under Law 280’s definition of VCI “cadre.” From July 1968 onward the task of ensuring the GVN’s internal security fell to General Tran Thien Khiem, who, according to Dang Van Minh, was “the real boss of administration and intelligence.” CIA asset Khiem—serving as interior minister, deputy prime minister for pacification, and chairman of the Phung Hoang Central Committee—thereafter worked hand in hand with William Colby in steering Phoenix into infamy.

  With the promulgation of Law 280—which compelled Vietnamese corps commanders and province chiefs to organize Phung Hoang committees—and, one week later, MACV Directive 381-41, which ordered U.S. military and civilian organizations to support Phung Hoang—Phoenix was ready to run on both its American and Vietnamese cylinders.

  All that remained was for Lieutenant Colonel Inman to spread the word. “One of my principal functions,” he said, “was to take Tan [‘polished’ and ‘above it all’] and Cao [‘blunt and offensive’] to visit the PIOCCs and DIOCCs and give a pep talk. I probably visited every district in my last eight months.” But, he added, “It was not my job to sell Phoenix to the U.S., so we didn’t announce our arrival; the district senior adviser wouldn’t even know I was there. My job was to sell Phung Hoang to the Vietnamese, and I stayed on the Vietnamese side.”

  The people saddled with the chore of selling Phoenix to the Americans were the region Phoenix coordinators—field-grade military officers who began arriving in Vietnam in January 1968. Their role is discussed in Chapter 14. But first some statistics on Phoenix through August 1968.

  No aspect of Phoenix is more significant than its impact on civilian detainees, and despite the increase in the number of CDs after the GVN’s acceptance of Phoenix in July 1968, the construction of facilities capable of holding them never materialized. Instead, hard-core VCI were transported from mainland camps to Con Son Island, and four “mobile” military field courts were authorized in October 1967 to supplement the four courts authorized in 1962. Confirmed VCI were tried by province security committees, whose proceedings were closed to the public—the defendant had no right to an attorney or to review his dossier. Security committees could release a suspect or send him to prison under the An Tri (administrative detention) Laws or to a special court. Due process for CDs remained on the drawing board.

  Nevertheless, in compliance with Law 280, the four Vietnamese corps commanders (General Hoang Xuam Lam in I Corps, General Vinh Loc in II Corps, General Nguyen Duc Thang in IV Corps, and General Nguyen Khanh in III Corps), formed joint Phoenix-Phung Hoang working groups and corps-level Phung Hoang committees, bringing the military and police into varying degrees of cooperation, depending on the commander’s personal preferences. For example, Lieutenant Colonel Lemire reported that General Khanh “was reluctant to support police type operations with military resources.”25 Khanh assigned a mere captain as his regional Phung Hoang coordinator.

  “In Eye Corps and Two Corps,” Lemire noted, “the cordon and search, using Phung Hoang blacklists, appears to get the best results. In Four Corps the PRU is still the main action arm. In Three Corps the joint PRU/Police/ RF/PF district operation seems to be most productive.”

  Everywhere the degree of Vietnamese participation in Phoenix rose steadily. By August 1968 Phung Hoang committees existed in 42 provinces and 111 districts; 190 DIOCCs had been built, at an average cost of fifteen thousand dollars each, and 140 were actually operating, along with 32 PIOCCs. A total of 155 Phoenix advisers were on the job. However, confusion still existed about the proper relationship between PIOCCs and Phung Hoang committees. In some provinces the two were merged, in others they were separate, and sometimes only one existed. Many Phung Hoang committees had no relationship at all with DIOCCs, which were often viewed as an unrelated activity. The change in name from ICEX to Phoenix to Phung Hoang added to the confusion. In Pleiku Province the ICEX Committee became the Phoenix Committee but met separately from the Phung Hoang Committee. Everywhere Americans and Vietnamese continued to conduct unilateral operations, and tension between the Special Branch and the military persisted as the biggest Phoenix-related problem.

  The other major problems, cited in a May 1968 report written by CORDS inspectors Craig Johnstone and John Lybrand, were lack of trained DIOCC advisers; lack of agreement on the definition of the word “infrastructure”; inadequacy of reaction forces at district level, the exception being when PRU were sent down from province; improper use of Field Police forces; torture of prisoners*; lack of a standardized filing system; poor source control mechanisms; lack of coordination between Phoenix and other free world forces; and Census Grievance participation in Phoenix.

  To facilitate Phoenix operations nationwide, the CIA issued two handbooks in June 1968. The first, a thirty-one-page document titled The VC Key Organization from Central Level down to Village and Hamlet Levels, outlined the VCI for Phoenix operators. The other was the Phoenix Directorate’s first manual of procedures, outlining the program from Saigon down to the DIOCCs. At this point a detailed picture of the estimated seventy thousand VCI was emerging, targeting was becoming specific and scientific, and results were improving. Lieutenant Colonel Lemire reported that “as the DIOCCs and PIOCCs have refined data bases, gained experience, and mounted more operations against targetted individuals, the neutralization rate has been well over 1000 per month for the last four months.” In Gia Dinh Province, Lemire reported, “the combination of an aggressive Province Chief and a dedicated Phoenix Coordinator has more than quadrupled the monthly rate of killed, captured, and rallied VCI.”

  Much emphasis was placed on neutralization rates, which were deemed the only objective way of measuring Phoenix success. As reports poured into the directorate from all over the country, numbers were tabulated and scores posted; by the end of June 1968, more than six thousand VCI had been “neutralized,” with exact numbers available from each DIOCC so Phoenix managers could judge performance.

  As Evan Parker explained it, “You’ve got people. You’ve got some sort of structure set up, some facilities and money and resources. Then you need a record-keeping system. Unfortunately,” he added, “people lived on reporting. … In order to get brownie points, a guy would say, ‘We conducted X many Phoenix operations,’ and that looks good on your record. But simply because they were ordered to conduct sweeps, they might pick up some VC, but they could just as easily have been soldiers as civilians. Whatever the results were, it was conducted in the name of Phoenix. A lot of things were d
one in the name of Phoenix. And this goes into your record-keeping system.”

  Ralph Johnson writes: “It was this reporting weakness which for a long time attracted much of the foreign press criticism of Phung Hoang.”26

  “Then”—Parker groaned—”Komer took it one step beyond and assigned goals for the number of VCI neutralized. Komer was a great one for setting objectives, then keeping score of your performance against these objectives. And this is how quotas got developed in the summer of 1968.”

  Borrowing military “kills” to meet Komer’s quotas was more than inflationary. John Cook, the Phoenix coordinator in Di An District in Gia Dinh Province, in his book The Advisor notes that switching the identity of a VC soldier killed in combat with that of a known member of the infrastructure meant that “If at a latter date the real member was captured or killed, this action could not be reported, for you can only eliminate a man once.”27

  “Komer didn’t understand the police nature of the attack against the VCI,” Bob Wall said scoffingly. “When LBJ put pressure on him, he invented quotas as a management tool, and this destroyed Phoenix. Quotas gave starving policemen a way to feed families. It let them bring in bodies and say they were VCI.”28

  “I resisted like mad the idea of quotas,” insisted Evan Parker, “because I felt this would lead to cheating, or in innocent people being arrested, and this looking good on the quota. Or there might even be names listed on arrest reports that didn’t even exist. In one area I was told they were taking names off the gravestones…. But”—he sighed—”they had quotas, and they tried to meet quotas, and that’s how you get the idea that this was some sort of murder organization.”