The Phoenix

by Barry Sadler

  "As of this date, you are both on TDY (temporary duty) to an organization known as the Phoenix Project, a clandestine group, oriented toward the disruption of the enemy's infrastructure, through whatever means the situation warrants."

  Both Casey and Gomez knew the colonel meant they were to kill the enemy without having the normal restrictions of war placed on them. They would be able to "Terminate with Extreme Prejudice" anyone they suspected of being involved with Ho's Ke'sat Nhan teams.

  Tomlin set a gimlet eye on his two subordinates. "Now this is the way it works. Romain, you requested that you be given your head. You have it. However, from this moment on your control officer will be Captain Gomez. Coordinate your actions and requests through him. Do you at this time have any special requests?"

  Casey and Gomez looked at each other. Casey was content with the situation. Gomez seemed to be a cool, steady, realistic type who didn't have any great deal of respect for the military's normal line of bullshit. He'd be all right to work with, but he needed something more.

  "Yes, sir. I would like it if you could have a Luc Long Dac Biet officer named Van tran Tuyen assigned to me. I've worked with him before and I'll need him to interpret for me, as well as provide a backup I can depend on if needed." Tomlin recalled his own recent experience with a South Vietnamese he trusted, and even though the LLDB was the South Vietnamese equivalent of the US Special Forces he had developed a sudden distrust of all Orientals. "Do you think he's reliable, Sergeant?"

  Casey nodded his head. "No problem there, Colonel. I'd bet my life on it."

  Tomlin grimaced mentally, Not just your life but mine, which is infinitely more important. "Very well Sergeant, I'll see what I can do. Give his name to my orderly and I'll check him out for you. Anything else?"

  Casey nodded, "I'll need to be able to pick my own weapons, and I'll need some gold, probably a couple of thousand dollars’ worth to start with."

  Tomlin and Gomez both looked at him as if he were mad. "Just what the hell do you need with gold, Sergeant? You're not going to open up an account in Switzerland are you?"

  For the first time Casey laughed easily in the colonel's presence. "No, but I will need help that I don't think you would be able to supply. There is a Cambodian Kamserai chieftain named Phang that I would like to put on the payroll. He has the means to supply me with up to date information on Vietcong activities and their whereabouts. Also, he's not restricted by the border and has enough men to put up a hell of a fight when necessary, and it will probably be necessary, especially across the border, if we have to go back into Laos or Cambodia after Ho. I'm sure you'll agree that a border fight between Kamserai bandits and the Vietcong would cause less of an international outcry than an incursion in force by American or South Vietnamese units?"

  Tomlin grudgingly agreed to Casey's demands. "I'll see to it, but you had better show me some results, and quickly, if you expect to continue in this matter." To Gomez he directed his next words, which dripped with heavy emphasis. "You, Captain, are in charge. Get the details as to how to contact this Kamserai bandit. What's his name? Phang? Just remember anything that goes wrong will be your direct responsibility. Any further communication from Sgt. Romain will come through you. Is that clear?"

  Gomez agreed that it was. He knew the reason why he was put in charge. If things went wrong it would be his ass that was hung out to dry and, if it went well, then Tomlin would reap the benefits. Everything was normal. They were dismissed with an offhand wave.

  Both were relieved to be out in the open again. Being around the former attorney too long gave both a slightly oily feeling, as if they had just been conned in some manner. Perhaps Tomlin's short career around the criminal element had contaminated him to some degree to where he couldn't trust a straight deal. Gomez and Casey had both known types like that.

  They walked together across the compound. "What do you think will be your first move, Sergeant?"

  "I won't know that till I get Van here, and locate old Phang, the Kamserai. Once that's done, I'll be ready to move. It's too early to make any kind of definitive plan. As I see it, we have only two choices. One, we go after Ho, or two, we make Ho come to us. And I wouldn't be surprised if he has already made plans to do just that."

  Colonel Ho van Tuyen spoke with emphasis as he directed his one-handed aide: "From this moment on your duties will consist solely of locating the one who crippled you and humiliated me. Use our agents to find him. That shouldn't be too difficult. I have already received a communication from Kontum that one of our agents was killed attempting to assassinate an American Intelligence officer. A sergeant answering our man's description was with the Intelligence officer the same day. As I see it, we have two choices in this matter. We can go and get him or make him come to us. Either one will suit me well enough, as long as he is in my hands before the month is out."

  Troung agreed. Now that he had a mission he would, as always, see it through. He, like Ho, had managed to convince himself that he had been mistaken about the scar-faced American's death. Now that the matter was cleared up he could go about his business with a clear mind. When next he had the American in his power, he would put to rest any lingering doubts that might remain buried in the depths of his subconscious mind.

  Troung arranged to have a meeting set up with one of his more effective agents in the Kontum area. He would go himself to see that the job was properly done. This operation had taken on a personal aspect. He owed the American for both the loss of his hand and much of his self-respect. He was grateful that Comrade Ho had shown such understanding in the matter. It would not have been unusual for Ho to have ordered him executed for a failure of such magnitude. He would not fail his master again.

  Captain Gomez and Casey sat in the transient barracks talking over their options. Casey told Gomez how to get in touch with Phang through a Chinese merchant that the old bastard dealt with on a regular basis. All he had to do was give the Chinese Casey's name and where he could be contacted and Phang would do the rest. As for Van, all that was necessary was for someone to call LLDB Headquarters in Saigon on Rue Le Van Diet and they'd be able to get in touch with him. Casey warned Gomez not to divulge the reason they wished Van assigned to them. Even the Vietnamese Special Forces were known to have their full share of enemy agents in their midst, though they were a bit more secure than the ARVIN forces. Gomez agreed. He arranged through the commander of the 5th Special Forces Group Vietnam to have Van come to them by way of personal request from one commander to another. This wouldn't be very difficult, as they and the SF men now had much in common. The Phoenix Operation had many of the Green Bereted jungle experts in their ranks.

  Gomez avoided the temptation to question his new associate about his past, instinctively knowing the man would give him nothing. He had read Casey's 201 himself and, while the man's past had many gaps in it, what they had been able to find out from friends in the Deuxieme Bureau about his service with the French forces gave them no reason to doubt his hatred for the communists. It had been proven by his many decorations while in the service of the French in Indochina and Algeria. In a strange manner he didn't feel superior in rank to the sergeant and knew that he'd do well to listen, more than talk. He didn't know where Romain had come from and, at this point, didn't really care. He didn't think he was German, though his file said he was born there and he spoke it fluently. He also spoke French, English and even Vietnamese to some degree. The more holes he found in Romain's history, the more fascinating the subject became. As to their future association, he would wait and see. If Romain decided to tell him more, then he would listen. He knew there was nothing he could do to threaten a man like this. Threats of a court-martial or bad assignments would mean less than nothing to him. Romain had something in back of his eyes that went beyond the more mundane penalties of a contemporary military existence. Whatever was going to come down now, Gomez would readily have given odds, it was going to be entertaining and deadly.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

 
; It took the better part of a week before Gomez could relay to Casey that Tomlin had sent for the Kamserai chieftain, Phang. He would be brought to them in a couple of days. Right now the arrangements were being made for a chopper pickup. As for his Vietnamese friend, even though he applied all the pressure he could, Van was not available. He was on an operation and couldn't be released at this time. However LLDB Headquarters in Saigon had promised him that as soon as he finished his mission they would assign him to Colonel Tomlin and the Phoenix Project.

  Colonel Ho van Tuyen was not waiting for anyone. He gave the orders for the Ke’ sat Nhan to go into an operational mode immediately. Borrowing a card from the British, when they'd used the BBC to broadcast orders to French resistance in World War Two, Ho used the government radio station in Saigon to spread his orders to kill over the length and breadth of South Vietnam. The key phrase was concealed in a normal daily news broadcast which was repeated several times throughout the day.

  In one night, three province governors were assassinated, twenty-three village chiefs, two American Intelligence officers and the commander of the Manh Ho Strong Tiger Ranger Battalion, one of South Vietnam's most effective combat elements.

  Ho's losses had been minimal. Seven men and two women killed and four taken prisoner. A very small price to pay for the amount of fear and disruption they had created. To Troung, Ho had said, "We have been lucky that we have not had more casualties, but even if it has cost twenty of our people for everyone we killed it would be cheap at the price. For that which we do is of more value than the lives of two full divisions. It is always much cheaper and quite often much easier to kill the brains of the enemy rather than his limbs. The losses we have inflicted on the enemy will show dividends for a long time. Now, within every echelon of both the civil and military authorities, everyone win walk in constant fear."

  Ho was correct in his analysis. Neither the South Vietnamese nor the Americans trusted their closest friends or servants. Changes were made in trusted aides and house staffs. This did nothing to hinder the work of the KSN. To the contrary, it created more openings for Ho's own people to infiltrate.

  Colonel Tomlin had all civilian Vietnamese nationals removed from the camp and would have thrown out the ARVIN troops as well if he could have done it without creating a political stink. With the reports of new assassinations coming nearly on the hour he was firmly convinced that he was at the top of Ho's hit list even above the Premier and General Westmoreland. All of his clerks were issued weapons and MPs stood a twenty-four hour guard on him. He had given up the comfort of his own villa in town and moved into the BOQ, the Bachelor Officer's Quarters, where though it was a little less than luxurious, he felt a bit safer with all the other American officers around him.

  Tomlin did one thing right during this process, he appealed to the second strongest instinct in man. Greed! Through all of his Intelligence sources he had sent out the word that he would pay for information and pay well. A thousand in gold for each KSN taken dead or alive and, if desired he would arrange for that individual to be granted emigration status, which could take him to the United States. That was a prize which was almost beyond money. For the chance to escape the hell of Vietnam and thirty years of war, there were many who would have turned in their own brothers, fathers, sisters and mothers. It was a desperate ploy on Tomlin's part but he felt that no sacrifice was too great where his own safety was concerned. He managed to get the sanction of the State Department by showing the First Secretary to the Ambassador that his name was also on the list of those to be killed. The First Secretary arranged, through the Ambassador, for State Department approval of the plan. Then he and the Ambassador decided they would be of more value at this sensitive time in history if they both returned to the United States for a time. Tomlin was green with disgust at the way the cowards had run off to save their own hides. Late that night he called the Pentagon to see if a staff job offered to him six months earlier at the Army Security Agency in Maryland was still open. It wasn't. Cursing, he applied a little pressure to get a Huey to go in and pick up the Kamserai chieftain that Romain wanted. It required a quick incursion into Cambodian territory but the Landing Zone was fairly close to the border, which was ill defined at best.

  Tomlin would not take chances. If there was the remotest possibility that Romain could get to Ho, then he'd do everything in his power to see that the sergeant had his opportunity.

  Casey wondered if Ho had identified him yet. He knew the Vietcong had a very good intelligence gathering vehicle. Every cleaning woman, house-boy or mechanic was a potential agent. The Americans had borrowed the colonial power's style of living. Most of those stationed in base camps had long ago come to consider the services of the Vietnamese civilians as a necessity. It was good to have someone make your bed, spit polish your boots to a high gloss and do your laundry.

  Casey looked on them with disgust. How could anyone feel they had tight security with hundreds, if not thousands, of Vietnamese nationals having easy access to their installations? The rough statistic was that one out of ten was a Vietcong sympathizer and still the Americans made no effort to change the situation. It was stupid and the Americans would pay the price for their laziness.

  Gomez came into the transient barracks about noon and knocked on Casey's door.

  "Come in." Gomez opened the door. Casey was sitting on his bunk cleaning a Walther P-38 9 mm pistol he had conned out of a sergeant from the 173rd Airborne Brigade.

  Gomez leaned up against the wall and lit up a Winston. "Your Kamserai is on his way. He should be here in about thirty minutes. I just left Tomlin and he is in a shit fit for you to get on with things. That attempt to kill him has suddenly made him very reasonable. So get your tail up and let's go meet your friend."

  Casey grunted as he rose. He put the pistol in its holster and donned his webbed belt with the P-38 hanging from his right hip. "All right, Captain, let's go. But I'd feel better if Van was with us. He knows more about the way Charlie thinks than all of us put together. But if we can't have him, then that's the way the fortune cookie crumbles."

  By the time they reached the camp's chopper pad they could hear the whirling of a chopper's blades coming in from the south.

  Setting down as usual in a cloud of blowing dust, leaves and small stones, the Huey cut its motor to let the blades spin down. Phang stepped out of the side door, waved good-bye to the pilot and turned to greet his friend. Teeth as black as Chinese lacquer spread across his weathered, crinkled face as he performed what was for him a smile. "Oh! Big Nose. It has been a long time since last we met. What is it you need of these old bones?" Casey examined Phang. He hadn't changed much in the last twenty years. His hair had gone completely gray at the age of twenty and he had always been "the Old One" to Casey, though he probably wasn't much past his middle forties.

  "It is good to see you, Old One. I'd like you to meet Captain Gomez. He's a good soldier!" Phang eyed Gomez closely then nodded his agreement. "As you say, my friend. But first take me where I can get something to drink. Flying has never been a pleasant thing for me."

  Gomez shook Phang's weathered hand and led him from the chopper pad to his jeep. Once everyone was seated, he told Casey, "I think it would be best if we had our drink in private. The fewer who know about your friend the better it will be." Casey agreed and, after making a stop at the Officer's Club for whiskey, Gomez drove them over to the transient barracks where they could talk in Casey's room without much fear of interruption.

  Once inside, drinks poured, toasts made and remembrances taken out, dusted and put back, they got down to business. Casey gave him a thumbnail sketch of Colonel Ho van Tuyen and his Ke’ sat Nhan. He didn't have to go into any details. Phang had already heard of the VC's new plan to demoralize the South Vietnamese and their allies. It was a good plan, one that he wished he could have used.

  "Phang, my Old One!" Casey poured him another water glass full of Jack Daniels sour mash bourbon. "I want you to find Ho for me. He thinks that if he
can kill off our brains, then our armies will fail. I think he has the right idea but the sword cuts two ways. If I kill Ho then that might disrupt his entire project and demoralize his men."

  He took a pull of his own drink. Captain Gomez waited till Casey stopped speaking before he interjected, "Of course, Mr. Phang, there will be a payment made for your services. At the word "payment" Phang's eyes took on a lean and hungry look. He had an affection for money that any Wall Street broker would have appreciated.

  "Now!" he chastized Casey, "there is a man who understands the reality of this world. It is not philosophy. It is money." Pointing his empty glass at Gomez he demanded to know, "How much for me and my men to do your dirty work?"

  Casey cleared his throat, suddenly a bit uncomfortable. He had never actually cleared the amount of payment Phang was to get. "I don't know, but whatever it is will be fair. Trust me!"

  At the words "trust me" Phang narrowed his eyes. "Are you Jewish? You don't look Jewish." Then he burst into laughter at the old joke. Gomez just shook his head, wondering where Casey ever found a character like this. The man looked like a savage but he spoke good English and had used French expressions and expletives more than once with great fluency. Whoever he was, Phang the Old One had been around the horn a time or two.

  Casey looked at Phang, winked conspiratorially and said, "I think that as the chief of the Kamserai, our good friend Phang should be given a hundred captured AK-47s and at least three RPD light machine guns, as well as a bonus payable in gold if he is successful in locating and taking me in after Comrade Ho." Phang grinned, showing his teeth like a series of shiny black tombstones.

  Gomez looked a bit confused. "I don't think getting him the weapons will be a problem, why do you want captured enemy guns? We can just give him new American ones."