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."
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