Wednesday, July 8, 2020

Tales & Lives of the Vietnam War - Part 4



Chapter Four
Robert Reault
The Green Beret

"It's impossible to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means...  You have no right to judge me."
            - Apocalypse Now

When Francis Ford Coppola set out to make his epic movie Apocalypse Now, he drew inspiration for his hunted character from Colonel Robert Rheault.  The role would be performed by Marlon Brando and praised for its dark portrayal of a rogue officer gone mad in Vietnam.
Like the character, Reault had been a member of the American Special Forces.  In fact, he had been at the head of 5th Special Forces Group and the iconic Green Berets.  He was dedicated to the work they were doing protecting the south from a communist invasion and a pragmatist to the point of cynicism about what needed to be done to make that happen.  Also like the character, Colonel Rheault was fond of the indigenous people of Vietnam, known as the Montagnard, or "Yard" as the Americans often nicknamed them.
The Montagnards were made up of about 30 different tribes scattered throughout the mountains of South Vietnam along the borders of Laos and Cambodia.  Different in culture and ethnicity from their lowland cousins, they were used to living in the wilderness, surviving through subsistence agriculture.  They numbered approximately a million, and were often overlooked by foreigners and their own government.  Some journalists compared them to the Indian people of the Americas as Montagnards had been the indigenous people of Vietnam before the Sino-Mongaloid invasion had pressed them into the mountains.
Treated as inferiors by most people in South Vietnam, they were called "moi" or savages by those in cities.  The government settled refugees from North Vietnam onto their lands, and stripped away many of their rights.  It was for obvious reasons that the Montagnards sided with the French during their occupation as that foreign government promised them protected lands on which to live.  These promises vanished with France's withdrawal, and the tensions between the people of the hills and those in the valleys intensified.
This made them a prime target for North Vietnamese indoctrination; but the Montagnards were suspicious of communist goals.  They rightfully saw through the propaganda machine, realizing their religion and culture would be under more severe subjugation under their rule.  How long that would remain the case was unclear, and the American Special Forces decided to move in before the Yards switched their loyalty to the Viet Cong.
In 1961, they began an initiative within the Vietnamese mountains called the Village Defense Program, which later became the Strategic Hamlet Program.  Recognizing the importance of those mountains as pathways of the Ho Chi Min Trail, the Green Berets trained the natives to defend their villagers and supplied them with the weapons to do so in "civilian irregular defense groups," or CIDGs.  A detachment of the Green Berets would remain as advisors to help secure perimeters around the villages.  They were supported by South Vietnamese Special Forces, and Navy Seabees, who helped build dams, roads, schools, bridges, wells, and other necessities for the mountain people.  Special Forces also provided medical care to the villages.  By 1963, 43,000 Montagnard soldiers defended the area around Buon Enao, and 18,000 were in mobile strike forces which maneuvered by helicopter.
The Green Berets respected the Yards more than their ARVN counterparts.  What members of the Special Forces had to train for, the native people of Vietnam grew up with naturally.  When reporters came to the camp, they found the elite American soldiers quiet on all issues except that of their admiration for the Yards.  They shared many values, and became close friends.
The one area that found Montagnards lacking was in throwing.  Their culture had no games with balls that were tossed, and their weaponry never involved hurling projectiles.  So when the Green Berets went to teach them how to toss grenades, the tribesmen had to learn the movements from scratch.
The first Medal of Honor in Vietnam was given to an American soldier fighting alongside the Montagnards.  Captain Roger H.C. Donlon, with his group of 12 Green Berets, 311 civilian defenders, and only 60 Nung, (the fiercest of the Montagnard tribes,) held off an attack of nearly a thousand North Vietnamese soldiers for five hours and won.  Donlon gave particular credit to the Nung for their ferocity.
Despite their skills, or perhaps partly because of it, the South Vietnamese government continued to impose further and further restrictions on the Montagnard tribes, and many of the people refused to acknowledge them as equals.  Tensions rose, culminating in an incident in which one of the tribes killed as many as 80 South Vietnamese troops, and taking 20 Americans hostage.  The Green Berets managed to convince their allies to release their captives, but the damage was done.
Officials in Saigon provided some concessions to the people of the hills, but refused tribal autonomy.  They complained to the American government that their Special Forces had armed the hill people, which enabled them to make the attack.  The finger pointing came back to Special Forces, and specifically the Green Berets, who still stood up for their new brothers in arms.  Tensions now rose between the regular army and Special Forces; a strain that would remain for the rest of the war.
As a result, Special Forces were pulled from many of their posts in the hills protecting the villages; consolidating them into larger camps.  The civilian irregular defense groups were dismantled, and support from other branches was pulled.  As a direct result, Saigon saw that the Montagnard could no longer defend themselves, and officials returned to policies pressuring the native people from their lands.
By 1965, the US was pulling most of its support from the Montagnard; but Robert Rheault, who was executive officer for operations among the Special Forces, kept a connection between them and the Green Berets.  He visited the tribes personally, putting his impressive linguistic skills to good use to iron out relations with the mountain people.  He promised his support, and the tribes responded by supplying his operations with intelligence reports.  One of the tribes went so far as to induct him as one of their own.
Colonel Rheault was as no-nonsense and paradigmatic a soldier as one could get.  His close-cut, salt and pepper hair, deep tan, combat infantry badge with a master jump insignia, his Motagnard bracelet and thin Philippine cigar tightly bit in his lips all expressed his history and his influences.  He had degrees from Georgetown and the University of Paris, and his combat experience ran parallel with his tour as an assistant professor of foreign languages at West Point.
When he first arrived at his quarters in Nha Trang, he had the queen bed of his predecessor replaced with a common soldier's cot.  His dress and demeanor were crisp and austere.  His gaze was unrelenting.  He had been awarded a Silver Star in the Korean War where he attained the rank of captain.  In peacetime he rose through the ranks and had passed the Q-Course to join Special forces where he took command of the 1st Special Forces Group in Okinawa.  By the middle of the 1960s he was aiding operations in Vietnam, and in 1969, he took command of 5th Special Forces Group in Vietnam, which placed him at the head of the Green Berets.
He believed firmly in the mission, certain that the only chance South Vietnam had against the North was for its people to be properly trained and equipped until they were ready to defend themselves.  His dedication earned him the loyalty of his men, who roundly believed he should be promoted to a general.
As talk stirred of a withdrawal, he went to General Creighton Abrams and asked him to allow 5th Special Forces to be the last to leave the country.  They had been scheduled to be first, and he argued that they were spread so widely throughout the country that their departure would damage the infrastructure of the defense.  During his lengthy speech, he said that the reduction should come from the fat, rather than the muscle.
This statement didn't go over very well with Arbams as his own army command tended to be what was referred to as the "fat."  Tensions between the Army and Special Forces had continued to rise in country as the branches clashed over rank, authority, and whose plans would be enacted.  In the tank and infantry campaigns of World War II and Korea, which Abrams was used to, the Army was the clear leader.  But in a covert war where the enemy could hardly be seen and intelligence gathering was key, Special Forces believed they would be more effective.
Abrams listened, glaring at the speaker, until at last he fell silent.  Then he asked bluntly, "Are you finished now, Colonel?"  Without a clear answer, Rheault saluted and left.
As the colonel took a tour of Special Forces' 80 plus facilities, he furthered tensions between his outfit and the Army by suggesting that the Search and Destroy methods were self-destructive.  Destroying a village may kill five Viet Cong, or destroy a cache of weapons, but it created five hundred fresh recruits for the enemy.  He stated that it was more important to gain the loyalty of the people who would soon have to fight for their own country, and to gather intelligence of enemy movements.  Both of these were achieved through diplomacy, not destruction.
It was not that Rheault had a problem with fighting and killing the enemy.  But his pragmatic nature knew that this strategy would be endless.  "You could kill guerrillas all day long and they would spring up like dragon's teeth," he said.
Throughout the first half of the year, members of the CIDG who worked with Special Forces began disappearing, specifically, those in an organization called B-57, otherwise known as Project GAMMA.
B-57 had been set up to establish agent networks inside Special Forces camps that operated across the Vietnamese border into Cambodia and sometimes into Laos.  Made up of civilians and natives, they operated under the cover of selling food to the VC and NVA units inside Cambodia and along the Ho Chi Min trail. 
This organization was kept secret partly because of its association with units across the Cambodian border, whose existence was being denied to the public, and to officials of Cambodia, Laos, and South Vietnam.
Its existence was also a secret because their mission was to gather intelligence not only of enemy troop and supply movements, but of spies working within the government of South Vietnam.
When agents from this organization went missing, it meant that someone deep within the inner circle was involved.  Special Forces would have to find out who it was without the aid or even knowledge of any other branch or their allies.
The investigators got their break when a photograph was discovered in an abandoned American camp northeast of Ban Me Thuot in the Central Highlands.  After it had been abandoned by the Americans, the North Vietnamese had used it as a staging area until a Third Mobile Strike Force attacked the camp and took it back.  There, among many of the documents they captured, they also found undeveloped rolls of film of the NVA unit participating in indoctrination activities.
One of the people seen in many of these photographs was a B-57 operative named Thai Khak Chuyen.  Of course, no one in the army unit recognized him; but when Major Budge Williams, who was part of Rheult's staff and a member of Operation GAMMA, saw it, he took it to one of his partners, Major Leland Brumley, who confirmed it.  This was their contact who was photographed associating with top NVA officers.  Nothing in Chuyen's reports indicated that this was part of an operation, and it seemed certain that he was associated with the enemy.
Williams and Brumley shared the information and photograph with two more members of their organization, David Crew and Bob Marasco, who had just come back from R & R.  They all knew Chuyen, he had been a trusted ally.  But this was proof that he was their double agent causing the deaths of many of their other connections.  In further investigations, they discovered that trouble had always followed Chuyen when he left other commands, and there had been other suspicions about him in the past.
Brumley sent Marasco to tell Chuyen that he was being considered for an important mission, and that he needed to report to headquarters in Saigon.  There, he was met with other agents who confined and interrogated him with the help of polygraph.  After the interview, the polygraph operator reported back to Brumley that there was no doubt that Chuyen was a double agent.
Brumley then had Chuyen flown to Nha Trang where he was interrogated again on a polygraph and with sodium Pentothal, otherwise known as truth serum, where he was again determined to be the double agent they were seeking.
Chuyen could not be released again for the course of the war.  Whatever information he had not already sent would be invaluable to the north, and dangerous to American and South Vietnamese operations.  Placing him in prison was also dangerous as the information he had was also secret from the South Vietnamese, and Chuyen knew it.  He could cause irreparable damage without even making contact with his northern connections.  The only solutions were solitary confinement, or execution.  The four Green Beret operatives decided to hand the decision over to the CIA.
The relationship between the CIA and Special Forces was complicated in much the same way as that between Special Forces and the Army.  One reporter described it as “an incestuous marriage between the sneaky Petes and the spooks.”  Both handled covert operations which, until recently, were led by the CIA.  When the Bay of Pigs fiasco occurred, both branches realized that military matters of larger numbers was best left to Special Forces while the CIA was better at dealing with covert information gathering and command.  This made the two more autonomous, but it caused friction when they were both dealing with something in between.
While the jurisdiction of command was fuzzy, it seemed logical to turn the matter of the double agent over to the CIA since it was internal.  Therefore, Majors Crew and Williams decided to travel to CIA headquarters on the fourth floor of the embassy to meet with the assistant station chief.  (The station chief was not there at the time.)
The plush offices were decorated with thick carpet and fancy furniture that gave a feeling like one was back in the US.  They were joined by several men who worked throughout the floor and seemed to provide false identities.
Crew and Williams suggested that the CIA provide them with a location to incarcerate Chuyen where he could not pass on information.  They also did not want him somewhere that the South Vietnamese were in charge for fear that they would torture information out of him, and some of the information involved CIA and Special Forces secrets.
The men who had joined them were not satisfied with that solution.  They ordered Crew and Williams to get rid of Chuyen.

Later that month, a frightened Sergeand Alvin Smith hurried into the Nha Trang CIA offices and begged for sanctuary.  He believed that he was being targeted by his co-workers, which included Crew, Williams, Brumley, and other staff members who worked for Colonel Rheualt.  Smith explained that the team had carried out the execution of Thai Khak Chuyen, but in the days following, the others had acted cold and distant toward him.
Smith believed he might be targeted because he had been Chuyen's handler, and believed they might kill him to cover up their actions.  He had not considered that there might simply be a solemn feeling among them for having killed one who they had thought had been one of their own.
Smith also did not expect the CIA to use his statement as an admission, and then to arrest him for conspiracy to commit murder.  When he reminded them that their own officers had ordered the execution, they denied it.

Colonel Rheault returned to Nha Trang to find that seven members of his staff had been arrested.  His copper tan turning into a red rage, he flew Long Binh and stormed directly to General George L. Mabry, top commander of the US Army in Vietnam, subordinate only to General Abrams who was in charge of all branches.
Despite the difference in rank, Rheault coolly looked Mabry in the eye with his steel gaze and demanded that he release his men.  When Mabry refused, Rheault demanded again, and said that if he wasn't going to release his men, then he would have to arrest him and charge him with the same crime.  Mabry accepted, and he placed the highest ranking member of the Green Berets in prison.
They were held under high security at Long Binh Jail, also known as LBJ as a dig at the president who had started America's involvement in the war.  Each of the eight men were kept in an isolated, small iron cells; so cramped none of them could stretch out fully across the floors.  The roofs were not strong enough to hold out the daily rains, and the walls trapped the unscrupulous heat.
The charges against them included murder, and conspiracy to commit murder; charges that, if found guilty, came with a minimum of a life sentence, and possibly the death penalty.  Rheault, as the commander, despite having chosen to stand with his men, would likely get the most severe sentence.

Each of the prisoners was appointed a lawyer, all of whom were told not to speak to one another; all of whom ignored the order and met privately to coordinate their efforts.
At the first hearing, the eight defendants and their lawyers sat in parallel lines of tables facing one another, perpendicular to the tables where the prosecuting attorneys, the court reporter, and other witnesses sat.  The rest of the room was empty save for a single upright fan that circulated the hot air.  The men were wiping their sweaty hands on their fatigues; the lawyers took notes on their blotted yellow legal pads.
The defendants had not yet had an opportunity to speak with their lawyers when a captain who was the Assistant Chief of Staff G-2 (Intelligence) for Headquarters, USARV, approached them and told them to sign a statement that was "a mere formality for this court."  The documents explained that classified material in the trial should not be divulged outside of the court or hearing.
Steve Berry, counsel for Leland Brumley, stood and proclaimed that he did not want the army to get the idea that they were going to get away with secrecy in this case.  The other defense attorneys concurred, and Berry continued, saying that his client was being denied effective assistance of counsel, and that it was impossible to properly prepare for this hearing while being in confinement under the existing conditions.
This took the court by surprise.  They had not expected such a heavy push-back right out of the gate.  They did not release them from their confinement, but there was an understanding that this would not be as secretive a trial as they might have liked.
This would be the theme of the entire trial, considering the conflicting values of a courtroom and undercover organizations.  The CIA and special forces operate under conditions of secrecy, while justice relies on public candor.  This case would test those ideals, with the prosecution arguing the side of secrecy, and the defense arguing the side of an open and fair trial.
Colonel Sieman, the investigating officer, began with a pro forma statement that the defendants had the right to present anything they might desire on their own behalf.  Steve Berry was ready and on his feet, saying he wanted "the Bravy 57 case file containing, but not limited to, the intelligence reports of the alleged victim, any contracts of the alleged victim, a name trace report on the alleged victim, an operations interest report on the alleged victim... testimony of Brigadier General Potts who is the G-2 at MACV; Major General Thomsen, Chief of Staff... a complete list of all agents at Moc Hoa that are in any way affiliated with Bravo 57 or the CIA.  Also, sir, a complete list of all agents in Than Tri... In addition, sir, I would like a passenger list of all the people who came from North Vietnam on the Mirabelle in 1954, and a complete report as to the NVA or VC affiliation of any and all of these people."
He was already making it clear that there would be no secrets left unturned, and that if the CIA wished to prosecute these men, they would have to do so out in the daylight.  He continued, "I would like a complete list of any memos that have passed between the CIA and the CID regarding the case now under investigation.  I would also like available from the Vietnamese government any files by military security surveillance regarding the alleged victim."
Every time he referred to Chuyen, he called him the "alleged" victim.  Though behind closed doors, everyone had spoken openly about the execution, no one had yet made a claim in open court.  In order for the prosecution to prove that there even was a murder, they would have to call witnesses from the CIA; witnesses who were averse to making public statements.
Berry continued to request "a dossier on the alleged victim, any dossier on him and any member of his family, including his sister who works for MACCORD... any messages from Nha Trang to Saigon or from Siagon to Nha Trang regarding the case file... the CIA messages, sir, regarding the CIA or CID, regarding any operations regarding the alleged victim.  Sir, we request any statements made, any statements, record statements made to the CID by the same Colonel (redacted) or Captain (redacted) and Colonel (redacted), the same individuals who have already been requested.  We request the presence, sir, of Mr. (redacted), the (redacted) worker at (redacted)."
Much of what Berry was doing was also revealing how much they already knew as a sort of hint as to what could be revealed should they continue this trial.  He went on with this by saying, "Sir, we request the operational plan of Than Tri Cypress regarding Bravo 57.  We request the Operational Plan Blackbeard.  Sir, we request all terminations with extreme prejudice in unilateral operations since 1961.  Similarly we request a list of all terminations with extreme prejudice in bilateral operations since 1961, and similarly we would request a list of all terminations with extreme prejudice in multilateral operations since 1961, and including especially the Provisional Recon Unit."
Colonel Sieman asked what Captain Berry meant by "terminate with extreme prejudice."  Though a phrase that later became popularized through Apocalypse Now and other spy shows and movies, it had never been uttered in a public forum until that moment.  In fact, it had not even been used as code until the CIA and special forces began using it in the 1960s.
Berry explained, "Sir, termination with extreme prejudice has to do with various methods of getting rid of agents who have outlived their usefulness, and we request a list of all instances in which that has been done here in Vietnam since 1961 by the United States or allies.  This information should be available from the CIA."
Berry continued opening the playbook of the CIA and special forces for the public record, and the prosecution could do nothing but listen.  The defense was laying out the Pandora's box they had opened.
As for the execution itself, the prosecution was going to have to prove that one had even occurred.  When leniency was offered to any of the Green Berets who could lead them to the body, no one came forward.  (It would have, in fact, been impossible, as they had thrown the body into the South China sea for it to be devoured by sharks.)
Captain Berry put it plainly by saying, "What body?"
The first witness called by the prosecution was Colonel Rheault's deputy commander, Colonel Facey.  He looked uncomfortable as he was sworn in.  He answered through a pale face and with clenched fists, clearly torn between his duty to his uniform and his duty to his comrades in arms.
They asked him questioned "concerning a compromise of a certain agent from the depth of B-57 operations."  He answered that he had attended meetings regarding a "possible security problem with reference to a possible penetration of a clandestine operation from which the 5th Group of USARV responsibility."
He testified that he had "reason to believe that one of the agents that was hired or employed by Detachment B-57 for clandestine intelligence operations was, in fact, a VC who had penetrated the operation."  In discussing how to deal with the agent, they had determined on one of three courses of action: "One was that the agent should be continued to be employed on isolated, closely guarded missions, his future conduct to be observed.  Number two, the agent could be dismissed from the program.  Number three, the agent should be eliminated."
Further questioning by the prosecution brought out that Facey believed that "the agent" had either been sent on a mission, or his sentence had been carried out.
The witness had provided so little for the prosecution's case that the defense was nearly prepared to waive cross-examination.  But Captain Berry decided to establish a few things with him.
"You say Bravo 57 has to do with our unilateral operations in Cambodia, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"And in an earlier statement did you not say that due to the unilateral nature of the operation, that the open disclosure of such would undoubtedly cause international problems?"
"I made that statement."
"Can you tell us why the open disclosure of Bravo 57 would cause international problems?"
"Primarily because we were operating unilaterally, U.S. intelligence operations, from this sovereign nation of Vietnam without consulting - into the country of Cambodia without their knowledge."
"Would it be correct to say then, that it was considered to be in the interest of the United States that the government of Vietnam not know that we were conducting unilateral operations into Cambodia?"
"I would make an assumption that is why it became a unilateral operation to begin with.  They didn't want them to know."
"Do you know whether or not it is unusual to discuss the possibility of eliminating an agent?"
In the business or the field of intelligence it is not unusual to discuss this."
"Sir, when an agent is eliminated, is it usually considered to be a military necessity to eliminate him?"
"In my opinion, yes."
"Sir, would it be correct to say that if the CIA knew that man was going to be eliminated and they did not in fact preempt, this would be a form of a go-ahead by the CIA as a practical matter?"
"To the best of my belief I would say yes, it would be a full go-ahead."
Facey went on to establish that Black Beard had been the code name for B-57 operations into Cambodia, and that if Chuyen had been allowed to compromise Black Beard's mission, it would render the net ineffective "in addition to placing the United States in an unfavorable light."
Berry asked if General Abrams himself had not approved of the nets and their results, and Facey answered, "I sat next to COMUSMACV when he made that statement."  The long acronym stood for Commander of the United States Military Assistance Command in Vietnam, a phrase that amused Berry.
Bill Hart, one of the other attorneys, questioned the witness further, establishing that "the longer you held the agent, the more precarious the situation became."  Facey then admitted that "something had to be done."
Hart was followed by Middleton's lawyer, Captain Booth, who established that "the 5th Special Forces Group were in fact working for CIA.  He went on to ask what sort of damage would come from the governments of Cambodia and South Vietnam learning about the operation.
Facey answered that "if the government of Vietnam were aware of the fact that we were conducting clandestine intelligence operations from within their territory into Cambodia, they may damn well be very upset about it."
The prosecution held a redirect examination, but for every question they asked, eight defense attorneys were able to respond with questions of their own which established more favorable information for their clients.
Curiously, the prosecution never established that Chuyen had been an innocent victim, nor did they refute the claims that he was a double agent, and that his work could unravel an undercover operation and put thousands of lives at risk; not to mention enrage the leaders of three governments.  They stuck to the allegation that the execution had not been sanctioned by the CIA.
This narrative continued through the remainder of their witnesses, all of whom appeared torn between their loyalties.  The prosecution established the details of the execution.  The collaborators had received clearance for a boat, and had requisitioned a silencer.  Their alibis and whereabouts were established, painting a timeline that revealed a coordinated effort and a murder.
The defense admitted no such action took place, while at the same time revealing from all witnesses that such action would be acceptable based on the circumstances and that it happened fairly regularly.  Some witnesses even seemed confused by the allegations, considering that this was the sort of work that the CIA and special forces were there to do.
After adjournment, the defense counsel went out for a drink and some planning.  They believed they had the matter wrapped up.  There was no way the government would want a case with so many secrets wrapped up in its evidence to go to trial.  Bill Hart slapped John Berry on the back and said, "We got 'em running, buddy.  No way the government's going to want this one to come to trial."
Marty Linsky, one of the other attorneys, added, "I don't know if you guys recognized them, but there were a bunch of reporters - AP and UPI - hanging around outside the gate.  If any of this gets out, the government will have their backs to the wall, and they won't be able to dismiss if they want to."
Their celebrations were short lived.  When they reconvened on August 2, Colonel Sieman refused most of their requests for additional witnesses, including the polygraph operator who had tested Chuyen, for reasons of national secrecy.
John Berry leaped to his feet, and with his booming voice, shouted his protestations to the court.  "If ever it is established that anybody was killed," he began, covering the base of deniability, "the guilt or innocence of these men may well hinge on... the total environment, the total flow of circumstances... instructions, customs of warfare, military necessity... I would personally like to have the privilege of forcing each and every one of these... witnesses to state what he refuses to testify to on the grounds of executive immunity."  He later asked if "army loyalty should run downhill as well as uphill," and asked if "loyalty and justice were at least as important as another star."
Berry then reiterated that he wanted the papers that showed Chuyen was a VC/NVA agent.  Then he warmed up to his main point: "If the government wishes to keep all of this secret, it may not try my client.  The government has a choice.  It may bring forth everything... and try my client, in which case we will gladly go to court, or it can drop the charges against my client.  The government may not do both, sir."
Despite his vigorous plea, the court still rejected their requests.  The defense moved for a continuous, then left.
They were going to need more help.  Berry knew a lawyer named Henry Rothblatt who would have the knowledge and wherewithal to build their case.  Rothblatt was now in a comfortable, highly paid position at a New York law firm, and Berry was asking him to come to Vietnam at his own expense with no possibility of ever getting paid.  But, Berry added in the letter he wrote to him, "this case will be unique in legal history, Mr. Rothblatt, and I promise you that if you do come, your skills and talents will be taxed to their utmost."
Rothblatt arrived on August 18.  Two days later, the pretrial hearings continued.  The military attorneys began questioning witnesses while Rothblatt caught up on records from earlier days that were only permitted to him once he reached the courtroom.
The first witness from the CIA, whose name was redacted, read a prepared statement.  In it, he claimed that there was no evidence of Chuyen's being a double agent, and that the CIA had not ordered him to be terminated with extreme prejudice.  He added that one of the defendants had asked if there was an island they could send Chuyen to for the duration of the war.  This was an unusual admission since it in essence contradicted their point that the Green Berets had decided to kill him.  It brought up the very question the defense was proposing that why would these men turn around and kill him unless someone ordered them to.
The agent then took his statement one step too far when he added, "the CIA does not involve itself with assassinations."  This opened up Pandora's box once again.  Before the unidentified witness said that, the defense was not allowed to bring up any subject outside of the narrow scope of the trial.  However, since the witness had broached the subject, that made any and all questions about the CIA committing assassinations open to questions, as well as requests for evidence on the subject.
As the witnesses who were allowed to testify came through, the defense counsel made sure to ask about the new revelation.  Witnesses denied so much about CIA involvement in anything that one would question what their purpose even was beyond taking up a floor in the embassy.
In their closing arguments, Steve Berry spoke first.  "It is a simple case," he said.  "These men are being left, as Mr. Rothblatt said in his questioning, "holding the bag."  The government can do one of two things.  It can maintain its operations in Vietnam, it can maintain its CIA, it can maintain its operations in Cambodia, or it can try our clients.  That is the choice."
Berry's statements went on for a while, but most prophetically, he said, "One of the practical reasons why this case cannot go to trial is the fact that the American people aren't going to put up with it.  Colonel Rheault is a hero to the American people."
Most of the rest of the attorneys echoed Berry's statements.  Then Rothblatt concluded their statements.  He first gave a lecture to the investigating officer presiding over the trial on constitutional process.  He then characterized the CIA as taking the position that "we don't want to give you the facts and we don't want to be subjected to the elementary processes of truth finding."
He concluded by saying, "Let's say to every soldier fighting this war, 'We will respect your rights; we will respect those basic principles.'  Tell the American people that we love our men; we will give them due process rights and not kangaroo court rights, and let the men honestly devote themselves to duty and do what their consciences and their obligations to their country compel them to do.  Say to them, 'We will not stand behind the deception, the cover-up by an agency that invokes the privilege,' and promptly dismiss the charges and return these men to honorable duty."

The pre-trial concluded, Henry Rothblatt returned to New York.  The other attorneys remained, handing in their motion to dismiss the charges based on the fact that doing so would require revealing undercover operations in order to have a fair trial.  They also alleged that General Creighton Abrams had unduly influenced the proceedings and was anxious to get a conviction of men he saw as rivals.
Once the motion was turned in, there was nothing more they could do for this case but wait.  The lawyers attended to their other cases, and Rheault and his men settled into their new accommodations.
When Rothblatt had arrived, changes were immediately made to the men's confinement.  They were moved into unused barracks with barbed wire fencing around them.  They were all together, with beds on which they could stretch out to full length.
Rheault settled right back into the role of commander.  He set up a program for physical training, waking up the soldiers at 5 a.m. to do officer's call, and then daily exercises.  Their regular run, which was supposed to go five miles, posed a problem.  The MPs first set up a system wherein they would jog with the soldiers, but they soon found that no one could keep up with Rheault and Brumley.  By this time, however, they had come to realize how much integrity they had; so they gave them permission to jog freely about the grounds if they swore on their honor that they would return to their confinement.  They swore, and never took advantage of their freedom to escape.
Others wanted to help them get out.  Word of the case had spread throughout the men, who were baffled at the story.  Some began to ask publically, "Which of our enemies are we no longer allowed to kill?"  In a war where body count was the measure by which success was determined, the need for such a question seemed absurd.  Morale, already a rising problem among the men, began to drop even further with the threat of soldiers facing execution for doing the job they had all been sent there to do.
News of the situation reached the press, and questions began to arise in press briefings.  On August 28, Secretary of the Army Stanley Resor held a press conference at Tan Son Nhut Airport in Saigon where reporters' questioned bordered on the sarcastic as they asked about what was starting to be called the Green Beret Affair.  One of them asked, "Has there been any change in the orders to army commanders that their mission is the pursuit and destruction of enemy forces?"
None had, of course, but the question made more of a point than it demanded an answer.
Letters of support poured into the prison barracks.  One package included a false passport, a 9mm pistol, and some hand grenades.  Another set up a plan to drop in with a German light aircraft designed for short landings and takeoffs to rescue the men if the decision had gone the wrong way.
Still others stated plans to spring them out of prison.  They didn't realize that the eight men held in the LBJ prison were capable of escaping themselves, even without their open jogging allowance.  One of the soldiers, in fact, Budge Williams, was slipping out of the barracks some nights and going to parties.
Larkin W. (Rocky) Nesom was threatening in another way, claiming that he would gather up Special Forces alumni and educate the public as to the manner in which the war was actually being fought.  This was not only the most damaging threat to the Army who was prosecuting the case, and the CIA who was supporting it, but it also reminded them what would happen simply within the trial.  The unnamed witness had opened the door to the subject of the CIA does not assassinate.  There were more than enough Special Forces operatives willing to testify, either in or out of court, that they did; and they could provide specific examples.
The attorneys visited regularly, and a genuine friendship grew between all of them.  Despite orders of no alcohol, they brought bottles of Scotch, bourbon and gin.  Rheault began to open up and joke around, introducing Captain Berry to a friend as "the sloppiest soldier and the best lawyer in Vietnam."
David Crew was a deeply religious soldier, spending at least an hour a day reading the Bible.  He saw their confinement as a test of his faith.  Crew was also more concerned with the morale of the other men than he was for his own safety.
Budge Williams, Lee Brumley, Eddie Boyle, and Bob Marasco saw the murder charge as just another wartime dilemma.  Boyle was a tough Irish kid from the Bronx who never doubted the outcome of the trial.  Williams and Marasco told bone chilling tales of their undercover adventures.  Bob Marasco was dealing with his own unraveling marriage back home.  Lee Burmley was quiet, reflective.  He spoke most about his wife and young daughter.
One of their earliest visitors was Colonel Charles M. "Bill" Simpson III, commander of the 1st Special Forces Group in Okinawa, Rheault's old command.  The two had been close friends for a long time.
After Simpson visited Rheault for the first time, he went to visit Abrams.  The general wouldn't see him, but sent a deputy in his stead.  When Simpson got on the plane to return to Japan, he was arrested and detained for the night on Abrams' orders.  Even though he returned without incident the next day, he knew it was an intimidation tactic meant to keep him away from Rheault.
It had the opposite effect.  Simpson returned to the US and headed straight for Washington.  For the entire length of the lawsuit, he was haunting the halls of the Pentagon, bringing attention to the Green Beret case.  He reported back to the defense team that Nixon had already wanted to dismiss the case, but Abrams had told the president to stay out of his business if he wanted a smooth withdrawal from Vietnam.
Rheault's replacement at the head of Special Forces was not gaining the confidence of his men.  Traditionally an Airborne role, Colonel Lemberes was ground forces, like Abrams.  When someone said he had not earned the Green Beret, he decided to do three short jumps from a helicopter and then give himself his wings.  On his third jump he broke his leg.
Though soldiers are supposed to enjoy the same right of a "speedy trial" that civilians do, the Green Beret case continued to be pushed back, mostly by the efforts of General Abrams, who seemed to want the heat to die down among other soldiers.
The defense counsel drew restless, and began making demands that were largely ignored.  At last it became evident what they needed to do.  The defense attorneys had not wanted any details of the case to go public because they wanted something to hold over the prosecution should it go to trial.  However, if the soldiers were to be held indefinitely, there was no point to hold back any cards.  And so they turned to the media.
Berry came out with guns blazing.  He said, "There are fair trials, and there are closed trials, but a trial cannot be both closed and fair... I predict that our government will have to choose between trying this lawsuit and waging this war."
With no trial date pending, the attorneys had time to go on media tours, speaking to any networks and radio broadcasts that would listen.  Interest in stories of military blunders had increased, and they found a willing audience.  Lemberes' efforts in Washington paid off in the form of Congressmen bringing up the subject on the floor of the House.
Congressmen began writing to Secretary of Defense Melvin Laird, claiming that the Green Beret case was a disgrace, embarrassing American armed forces, and threatening to reveal military secrets
Rothblatt spread the word through his east coast connections such that the story reached the cover of Time Magazine.  Once the public learned that some of the most elite soldiers were on trial for murdering an enemy spy, many became outraged.
One mother with a son in Vietnam wrote to President Nixon saying, "The court-martial of the Special Forces men is a disgrace; they are doing nothing but making scapegoats of them... the people are going to revolt."
Another wrote of her son, "Am I to understand that he is in jeopardy of being accused of murder?  He might today be in a situation of those six men who the army and the CIA are attempting to set up as scapegoats."
Many of the letters made it clear that they were Republican voters, implying that Nixon would have to begin to choose between siding with his chief general, and his public.
Others reminded the president of what was already happening; that morale would drop precipitously should they convict men for doing the job for which they were drafting soldiers and sending them across seas to do.
One letter recounted a heartbreaking incident where a man's son was part of a helicopter squad that was ambushed.  His son was killed along with most of the rest of the squad because the VC had known in advance exactly where they were going to land.  He pointed out that it was because of someone like Chuyen that his son was dead, and he believed the Green Berets deserved a medal for their action.
Another mother told about her son who had died in action "fighting and doing his duty for what?"  They all asked what their sons were supposed to do if they were trained to kill the enemy, but were then at threat of being charged with murder.
Letters from American Legion chapters and auxiliary chapters with hundreds of signatures echoed the sentiment.  One woman's letter read, "As a veteran and widow having two boys in Arlington National Cemetery as a result of the Vietnam War, I am deeply offended that the government they died for is prosecuting the Greeen Beret officers.  The military is fighting for the USA.  Which side are you on?"
Finally, the pressure became too great.  Congressman George Bush and many other members of both Houses demanded answers.  Soon after, the CIA released a statement claiming it would not release any of its agents to serve as witnesses.  Then on September 29, 1969 a statement was issued ordering the case be dismissed.
It was over.

On the flight home, the Green Berets were announced to the passengers of the plane who gave them a rousing applause.  They had all taken an early retirement from the military when they learned there would be no advancement for them.  Even though they were not found guilty of any wrongdoing, there was new leadership in Special Forces, and overall command had revealed just how it felt about them.  And so in the interest of their outfit and of themselves, they left it all behind and returned to civilian life.
Under that new leadership, B-57 was dismantled, and the North Vietnamese built upon their supply bases along the western border.  Many of their attacks in 1975 would come from these locations.
The attorneys all stayed in touch.  Steve Berry worked for Henry Rothblatt for a year before returning to the Midwest to begin his own practice.  He stayed in touch with each of the Green Berets.  David Crew was an usher in Steve's wedding.  Budge Williams took him on a tour of monuments in Georgia when he went to visit.  Leland Brumley worked in military intelligence, having a tour with MI6, and retiring in Texas, where Steve saw him during a layover not long before Leland's death.
Colonel Rheaut went to visit Captain Berry at his home in Lincoln, Nebraska.  Berry introduced him to Governor Bob Kerry, another veteran of the war.  Rheult stayed at the governor's mansion that night and went on a jog with Kerry the following morning.  He was 86, and suffering from Parkinson's.  After he left, Robert sent a letter and a picture as a thank you to his former attorney.  On the back of the picture was written, "To Steve Berry, eloquent and dedicated defender of the Green Berets."
The letter was the last communication Berry had with him, and it ended with, "It's been a great ride."

 Tales & Lives of the Vietnam War will be released later this year or early next year.

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