Eagle Station Part 19

The pilot signaled and Wolf climbed on board. In minutes the plane was over the end of the runway, then droning off to the north.

1000 Hours LOCAL, WEDNESDAY 16 OCTOBER 1968 HANOI CITY HOSPITAL.

DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF VIETNAM.

"You do not have the luxury to tell us what to do," the man said to Co Dust in Vietnamese. His name was Thach and he was the liaison between the Party and the head of the North Vietnamese prison system. Forty years old and slight, even for a Vietnamese, his features revealed a great deal of Chinese ancestry, and his specialty was propaganda: specifically, overseeing and directing the captured Americans'

English-speaking interrogators and manipulators.

Co Dust bowed her head in the proper fas.h.i.+on and did not answer. Moments before, she had tried to tell Thach that the criminal Apple was not well enough to talk to anybody, though she knew he was.

They sat in a small whitewashed room used by the doctors as a place to rest. There were several wooden straight-backed chairs and a long grimy hardwood bench with deep scratches.

A window overlooked a courtyard full of patients in threadbare hospital garments trying to take the sun. Most were young men missing limbs, their stumps swathed in yards of gray bandages.

"I have read the reports. He is well enough." Thach switched to English: "Soon, in a matter of days, you will take me to his bed and we will talk about his release."

She kept her head bowed and gave no indication she understood his words.

"We know you speak English," Thach said. "We know all about you and your schooling in Paris. You must cooperate with us or things will go very badly." He had been picked for his liaison job because he spoke English better than any of the prison interrogators.

"I don't care," she said.

"Not for you, oh no. It would go very badly for the criminal Apple," he continued imperturbably. "Oh yes," he said to her when he detected a slight motion in her shoulders. "We know all about you. We know how you feel about him, how you stroke him and croon to him. All this has been reported and noted in your file. You have soiled your Vietnamese soul, but it is just possible you can redeem yourself, and maybe the criminal as well, if you cooperate." He seemed to have forgotten she had been instructed to do just that. He pulled a pack of crumpled Gaulois cigarettes from his tunic pocket and lit one with a sputtering match. He blew the smoke toward the ceiling. It was hot. The window could not be opened and the ceiling fan did not work. The few doctors who staffed the hospital never used the room.

He looked at her. "Would you like the criminal to receive his freedom?"

She shrugged, but would not meet his eyes.

"Would you like for him to go home? Would you like to see him go back to his own people and"-he tilted his head toward the shabby surroundings-"to an American hospital?"

She shrugged again, still looking at the floor.

"You can make this happen. Would you like to know how you can make this happen?" he said very gently.

She nodded.

"You must speak to me."

She looked up, but not directly at him. "Yes, I would like this to happen."

"And you will help?"

"Yes, I will help."

"For right now, I want you to go back to his side. Talk to him, make him laugh. I will supply you with little gifts of chocolate and bananas. Tell him you stole them. Make him dependent on you, but afraid you might get caught and severely punished."

"How can this possibly help him get to his home?"

"You must prepare him for it. And you must prepare him for a visit from some people who will help him go home. People who will take him home."

It had happened before. Through his contacts with certain people in the United States, Thach had arranged for American peace" organizations to visit Hanoi. A few months earlier, he had arranged visas for three members of the Women's Strike for Peace. He smiled with pleasure for an instant as he remembered beating an Air Force lieutenant named Carrigan for weeks because they had p.r.o.nounced him "wayward." He wrinkled his nose as he thought of the group that had come to Hanoi with Tom Hayden and Rennie Davis. The four American girls in the entourage had smelled so bad, he had had to chastise his Vietnamese serving women when they looked with contempt at them and refused to serve them tea. He almost laughed over that American novelist-what was her name?-Mary McCarthy.

She had seemed so bewildered and vague about everything when she had met with American prisoners. He still puzzled over the motion that young dolt of a seaman Hegdahl had made with his middle finger at Tom Hayden.

"Do you understand me?" he asked in a harsh tone. "Will you obey me?"

He had not told her that the reason the criminal Apple had been so near death when he had been brought into the hospital was from the beating he had received while in the Hoa Lo prison. He had been evasive when she had asked why no other Americans had been brought to the hospital, by saying perhaps they had not been wounded when their airplanes had been shot down, as Apple had been.

"Yes," she said, "I will do this thing." Inside, she told herself she would do it for the man himself, not for this skinny jackal.

"You must be prepared to ... sacrifice your body if such a thing becomes necessary. You understand? You must do whatever it takes to prepare him." He thought for a moment.

It would be good to have the black man's spirit so compliant that he would take advantage of a Vietnamese woman. He could be manipulated much easier if he had that on his mind. "Yes, do that. Make him interested in you."

Thach could see no expression on her face. He told her she was excused and had two whole weeks to prepare the criminal for his visitors and eventual release into their hands. After she walked out, he decided when it was over he would take the wench himself, then denounce her for having slept with the enemy.

He went down the stairs to the small Lada sedan in front of the hospital and was driven to Party Headquarters. As he filled out his report, he wondered if he would have as much success with this criminal Apple as he had had with the three men he had released in February. Black, Matheny, and Norris Overly had returned to the United States without causing any problems with the press or the people. They had been conditioned. He had seen to it they had been singled out for special treatment.

Thach was also proud of how he worked things with journalists. It had always gone well with all of them. He had arranged for selected journalists from communist countries, as well as Harrison Salisbury from The New York Times, to see for themselves what damage the Yankee Air Pirates were doing to peaceful Hanoi. He was particularly fond of quoting what Salisbury had written: "One can see that United States planes are dropping an enormous weight of explosives on purely civilian targets."

He studied Algernon A. Apple's dossier. Admittedly , it would be a coup if he could bring this big man to heel. The first black man in the North Vietnamese prison system to be released would be particularly savory, since he was also a criminal who had tried to escape. It all depended on how Co Dust did her job. Based on the negative results of the beatings, he did not think that criminal Apple was a man to give in merely to threats of more beatings. Thach snapped his tongue against his teeth in disgust.

Those imbeciles at the Hoa Lo prison, particularly that cretin the American criminals called Bug, would have killed Apple like they had Frederick, out of sheer vindictiveness over his escape. Did they not know these criminals were worth more alive than dead? Choi oi, he shrugged, a few more or less of the white race would not make any difference. It was the Negro race that could make a enormous difference on the propaganda front. If only he could get him to perform.

He picked up the second dossier on his desk and thumbed through the articles about the Peace and Power to the People Party that Alexander Torpin and a woman named Becky Blinn had founded in San Francisco. Torpin and the Party were doing well. The Blinn woman was not. She had died of a drug overdose in an alley and her body, which had been savaged by dogs, had not been found for days. He thoughtfully tapped the picture of Torpin, a powerful black man in a das.h.i.+ki. He had thought of asking him to come to Hanoi but had decided it would be too risky. Better he stay in place and work for the Party.

Besides, Torpin was a pragmatic man. Were he to see how things truly were in Hanoi, he might become disenchanted. Better he stay convinced that North Vietnam was the worker's paradise and that Hanoi was being indiscriminately carpet-bombed by American pilots. He would ask too many questions and demand too many answers. He was a hard one to control. But Torpin and Blinn, before she had become so drug-dependent, had landed a big fish indeed.

He permitted a small smile to play across his lips when he opened the third dossier, the one containing information on the big fish. Now this one was not hard to control. Here was a journalist who showed promise in many ways. He picked up the photograph and studied the wide smile of Shawn Bannister on the cover of an American tabloid. On the cover next to Shawn was a shot of his half-brother, Court Bannister, in full jet pilot gear. The lurid headlines screamed out, ONE KILLS THEM; ONE SPIES FOR THEM, and detailed the story of the two men.

Late the previous fall, Shawn had been apprehended by the OSI, the Office of Special Investigation of the USAF, for gathering data on the F-4s flying from Ubon. Shawn had claimed, successfully, that he was just a newsie acting as a guest writer for the Nan Dan newspaper published in Hanoi. Bomb loads, tail numbers, battle damage on return, call signs he had heard on his little radio in his room overlooking the Ubon runway were all newsworthy items, he had said. The international press had picked up the small article about the case in the Bangkok Post, and it had spread over the world with lurid headlines.

Other articles by Shawn Bannister as Vietnam War correspondent for the California Sun were in the folder. One detailed how Shawn had flown with his brother on a combat mission arranged by an Air Force Public Affairs Officer, who had thought the USAF would reap favorable prose.

The opposite had happened: Shawn had said his brother was a murderer who napalmed a civilian bus (the "bus" Shawn claimed to have seen had actually been a shot-up M-1 13 personnel carrier captured by the Viet Cong). Another widely acclaimed article by Shawn was of his visit with a Viet Cong colonel in the tunnel system beneath Saigon. Shawn had written quite explicitly that the Viet Cong would be the victors in their civil war against the puppet Saigon government run by US imperialists. Shawn had been promised a Hanoi trip by his Saigon mentor, Nguyen Tri, if his articles reflected the truth as Hanoi saw it.

Thach sat back and mused how Shawn Bannister had been brought along nicely, not only by Torpin in San Francisco, but by Nguyen Tri in Saigon and Huynh Va Ba in Czechoslovakia and Cuba. Two other Americans had been in Czechoslovakia, too, Bernadine Dohm and Tom Hayden, as Huynh Va Ba had told them what they could do for the revolution. And Thach needed the help, for he knew he was part of a complicated plan that required the mes.h.i.+ng of many schedules and the cooperation of all concerned.

One of the Americans at the Czechoslovakia meeting had explained at length about the election process in the United States. He had said the voting public was very subjective and easily swayed by events at the last minute. Therefore, incidents occurring just prior to the upcoming election on the fourth of November, if powerful enough, could possibly be very decisive and influential on the outcome. When asked what could do this and why, the American had replied that anything to put America and American troops in Vietnam in a bad light would influence the voters to vote for whichever candidate said he would immediately pull the United States out of Vietnam. Was there such a man in the election?

Yes, he was told, Hubert Humphrey was the man. Richard Nixon, his opposition, could not be trusted to end the war.

Thach had been given the task to ensure cooperation from the first black American pilot POW. Coupled with something very important about to happen in Laos, Thach had heard, the American POW's actions could be influential. The plan would result in both a propaganda coup and a vital military victory.

Thach looked more closely at the photograph of Shawn Bannister, amazed that a man who looked so vacuous behind that showy smile would come to Hanoi. Nguyen Tri's promise was being kept.

The final article in the dossier was from a California magazine. Thach picked it up. The magazine had resurrected an old movie publicity photo of Court in cowboy regalia, from his brief foray into the movies, and placed it next to one of him in his uniform. Underneath was a cropped shot of a bearded man wearing a tuxedo and bow tie.

HOUNDED OUT BY JEALOUS MOVIE STAR BOSS, SAYS AIR FORCE CAPTAIN.

Courtland Bannister, movie star son of famed Sam Bannister, hounded him out of the Air Force, said former Air Force captain Richard Connert at a Sacramento fund-raiser for Shawn Bannister, brother of Courtland and son of Sam. Connert, deputy campaign manager for Shawn Bannister's bid for a state a.s.semblyman's seat, said Courtland Bannister was "a tyrannical killer who hara.s.sed and tormented me until I had to resign from the Air Force to preserve my sanity."

Air Force Major Court Bannister would not respond to queries for his side of the story. USAF public affairs officers when contacted at the Pentagon would say only that Connert had been let go "for the good of the service."

A former Air Force sergeant said that Connert "was about the weirdest officer I have ever known, and I've known some weirdies. I was in a fighter squadron at Tan Son Nhut when he was a.s.signed as an F-4 backseater right at the beginning of Tet, when all airplanes were pressed into service. According to Major Bannister-and I heard him say this to the Ops officer-Connert did everything wrong in the backseat he could. They finally realized he wasn't a pilot. Turns out he was a non-rated F-4 simulator instructor who had dummied up orders as a pilot.

That's the last I heard of the guy until he got into some sort of politics."

Thach closed the file. These Americans, he thought, they are so divided. They need a central government to tell them what to think and do, as we have here. It is so much more simple.

1400 Hours LOCAL, WEDNESDAY 16 OCTOBER 1968 INTELLIGENCE Room, HEADQUARTERS, 8TH TACTICAL FIGHTER WING UBON ROYAL THAI AIR FORCE BASE.

KINGDOM OF THAILAND.

"Major Bannister reporting as ordered, sir." Court Bannister stood in front of Colonel Tim Mayberry. Court wore his black flight suit, Mayberry was dressed in USAF fatigues.

Mayberry offered his hand. "Relax. Smoke?" He held out a pack of Luckys.

"No, thanks, sir. Trying to quit."

"I did, once," Mayberry said and lit up. "For a couple years. Got back on it down at 7th."

"Yes, sir."

"Quite a party you gentlemen had."

"Yes, sir."

"That's not what I'm here to talk about."

Court looked surprised.

Mayberry walked to the big map on the wall and pointed to an area in northeastern Laos. "I want to talk about Eagle Station, also known as Lima Site 85."

Court nodded, even more surprised.

"You've seen it from the air. I want you and the Phantom FACs to take a special interest in that place. We have the day FACs keeping an eye on it, but we need night coverage as well. Not everybody agrees with me, but I think Eagle Station is of special interest to the North Vietnamese. I think it's quite obvious. They need a big coup. Tet failed miserably, even though the press would have the world believe otherwise. It is my belief that General Giap wants to capture Eagle for two reasons. One is to put the radar out of business, the other is to hold up the men they capture to the world press as violators of the 1962 Geneva Convention." He stopped and lit another cigarette. "Too bad you're not cleared for SI," he said through the smoke as he exhaled.

"No way, Colonel. I wouldn't take it if it were offered."

No combat pilot wanted a Special Intelligence (SI) clearance unless he didn't want to fly combat. Holding one meant the recipient was privy to extremely sensitive material produced by SIGINT (Signal Intelligence) systems, which normally come from ground-based and aircraft collection systems. Owning the clearance meant you were forbidden to be in any kind of a position where you might be captured by an enemy. Even visiting East Berlin was forbidden. Wing commanders, who had to know certain things their squadron people were not cleared for, always had an SSO, a Special Security Officer, who handled cryptography for him, and upon orders of the wing commander gave him only what he could bear as a combat pilot who might be captured and tortured.

Mayberry debated how to word his idea. "I want you to visit Eagle Station and I want to give you some, um, information that would be of use in your visit. Let's just cla.s.sify it as speculation on my part.

Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Court said. He decided to wait and see what Mayberry had to say before bringing up Wolf Lochert's connections and plans for Eagle Station.

"I think Russian special forces men are in on the deal, Mayberry said.

"I think they are in Laos on training mission straining themselves, not the Pathet Lao. And I think an attack on Eagle is a natural for them, and not just for Giap's reasons to shut it down and display the prisoners. I think the Russians find this a great opportunity to capture an easily transportable, highly secret US radar station, the TSQ-81. Or at least the Klystron tube that powers the radar. We, ah, understand they really want this thing." He made a derisive sound. "They just haven't pieced together that the principle is the reverse of radar bomb scoring system that's been uncla.s.sified for years.

Mayberry put out his cigarette. "Here's what I want you to do at Site 85. Familiarize yourself with the entire Eagle radar complex and how to defend it from the air at night without radio communications."

"I know a system we used to defend the SF camps in South Vietnam. It's called Flaming Arrow."

"Good. I'm familiar with it. Set it up. They're all technicians there and don't know a d.a.m.n thing about defensive measures ."

"Colonel," Court began. "Do you know an Army LTC named Wolf Lochert?

Wolfgang X. Lochert?"

Mayberry thought for a moment. "Wasn't he the man who beat a court-martial for killing that VC double agent?"

"That's the one. Know anything more about him, say in relation to what we are talking about?"

"Can't say that I do."

"I saw him off barely an hour ago on his way to Vientiane. He's on loan from MACSOG in Saigon to some spook in AID up at the American Emba.s.sy in Laos. His job is to look into Lima Site defenses. He's taken particular interest in Eagle up there at 85, He thinks it I s a natural for an airborne a.s.sault-by helicopters."

Mayberry threw back his head and laughed. "'Tis a small, small world.

I've been reading our AIRA's reports of what must be Lochert's activities up there and of Lochert's conclusions. The AIRA is merely pa.s.sing them on without stating whether he believes what Lochert says to be true or not. He didn't ID Lochert by name, and what you say is news to me, especially about the helicopters. The AIRA never mentioned the possibility."

"Maybe Lochert didn't think of it at the time. Maybe he did since he left there and I'm the first person he told."

"Maybe. So, Can your number two man run Phantom FACs while you're gone for a few days? And do you think you can hook up with Lochert to visit the Eagle with him?"

"Yes, sir, on both counts."

"Then get with it. I'll square things with Stan Bryce."

"Yes, sir."

1430 Hours LOCAL, FRIDAY 18 OCTOBER 1968 SUB-COMMITTEE OF THE CENTRAL WAR PLANNING COMMITTEE.

HANOI, DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF VIETNAM.

"Comrade Thach, what have you to report?" the Committee Chairman, an old man with a wispy beard, asked. Only those who commanded special respect grew beards in Vietnam. It was time for Thach to brief current results on his part of the plan called Cuoc Chien Tranh Gay Gac-Valiant Struggle. The Committee body sat at a long table in front of tall windows letting in the gray light of a low overcast day. Each man had one pencil and a thin notepad in front of him. In the center were paper drinking cups and plastic water bottles. Most of them smoked. Thach lit a People's Cigarette. It would not do for the Committee to see him smoke French Gaulois cigarettes, although he was sure every member did when they were not in public. He used to be very glad when the sky was filled with an overcast, for that meant the Air Pirates would not strike. Now, since that fool Johnson had panicked and told his pilots not to strike north of the 20th parallel, he would gladly trade the low clouds for a high sun. The city was once more learning how to relax.

Thach had been surprised when he had first entered the building to see a man he recognized to be from the Soviet Emba.s.sy. He did not know his name, only that he was with the GRU, the military intelligence office.

Political people from the Emba.s.sy were frequent visitors on Party matters of one sort or another, but the GRU men were usually at the War Department, not Committee meetings. Thach looked up at the Chairman and began to speak.

"Comrades, the American visitors are in place in the city of Bangkok and await only our word. I have taken great pains to see that the International Control Commission is aware of the trip and has told the American Air Pirates to provide safe pa.s.sage for their flight to Vientiane, thence here to Gia Lam."

He shuffled his papers.