Tag: CIA

  • Greg Poulgrain, The Incubus of Intervention

    Greg Poulgrain, The Incubus of Intervention


    The sub-title of Professor Poulgrain’s book is “Conflicting Indonesia Strategies of John F. Kennedy and Allen Dulles.” In this author’s opinion it is a valuable book because, although it does not deal directly with the 1965 CIA-inspired coup against Achmed Sukarno of Indonesia, it traces the major events and crises that caused that epic slaughter, which is usually labeled the bloodiest CIA coup in history.

    To this day, no one can say for certain how many people perished in the overthrow of Sukarno. The estimates range from 350,000 to a million. But almost everyone who has written about that event agrees that it was the most cleverly disguised coup d’état the Agency ever executed in a foreign country.  It literally took years to even begin to really understand what had happened. Over fifty years later, there is still much to be uncovered about what happened, and why, on September 30, 1965, and how this caused the mass murders that were then enacted all the way into the summer of the next year.

    As former CIA officer Ralph McGehee once said, the Agency very much guarded how it achieved the overthrow of Sukarno. They considered it such a near masterpiece of covert action that they used it as a model to teach certain tactics and strategies. (The Nation, April 11, 1981) In fact, the Agency has so clouded its own role in the twisted affair that to this day there is no single book that comes close to constituting a definitive study of the coup, which is not the case with say, the overthrow of Arbenz in Guatemala or Mossadegh in Iran.

    In fact, one of the first hints of what really happened in Indonesia in late September of 1965 was almost inadvertently delivered by James Reston in the New York Times.  On June 19, 1966, Reston was trying to defend Lyndon Johnson’s escalation of the Vietnam War and the failure of that escalation to achieve its goals.  Therefore, he wrote that this should be balanced by more “hopeful political developments elsewhere in Asia.”  Reston then pointed to the “transformation of Indonesia from a pro-Chinese policy under Sukarno to a defiantly anti-Communist policy under General Suharto.”  Reston, of course, was lying about Sukarno being a pro-Chinese communist; he was nothing of the sort. But, as with Patrice Lumumba in Congo, this is what the CIA used to justify the overthrow of his government.  Reston then hinted that such was the case when he wrote, “Washington is careful not to claim any credit for this change…but this does not mean that Washington had nothing to do with it.”  If the reader can comprehend it, Reston’s column was entitled “A Gleam of Light in Asia.”  No comment can underscore the sick inappropriateness of that rubric.

    In his introduction to the book The Silent Slaughter, Bertrand Russell wrote that according to two witnesses he knew, the 7th Fleet was in the waters off the coast of Java at the time, and General Nasution, who led the communist crackdown along with his colleague General Suharto, had a mission in Washington; therefore, the US “was directly involved in the day to day events.”

    On February 12, 1965, the New York Times, almost eight months before the cataclysm, partly explained why the USA was determined to overthrow Sukarno. They wrote that when “Sukarno threatened the Federation of Malaysia, he placed himself in the path of U.S. and British interests to contain communist China. Washington has left active defense of Malaysia to the British Commonwealth…” but seeks to influence Indonesia by aiding her army “against the expected Communist bid for power.” Again, this is another deception. There was no bid for power by the communist party on the archipelago called the PKI.  But the CIA used this specter–first conjured up by CIA Director Allen Dulles and his brother Secretary of State John Foster Dulles–to begin the planning for the coup. 

    And, in fact, that planning may have begun the year before.  Peter Scott in an article for Lobster, (Fall 1990), quoted a letter from a former researcher who had seen a certain letter from a former ambassador who had a conversation with a Dutch intelligence officer assigned to NATO. According to the researcher’s notes, the ambassador’s letter was dated from December of 1964.  It said that Indonesia would soon fall to the west like a rotten apple. Western intelligence agencies would organize a “premature communist coup [which would be] foredoomed to fail, providing a legitimate and welcome opportunity to the army to crush the communists and make Sukarno a prisoner of the army’s goodwill.”

    According to several writers, in the early spring of 1965, the Agency sent in the so-called first team.  And according to at least one author–Donald Freed–David Phillips was part of this advance team.  One of the things they did was to organize an informal alliance of conservative generals–led by Nasution and Suharto among others. It eventually numbered over two dozen. As the months went by, it was formally called the Council of Generals. It was this body that reportedly plotted against Sukarno. Part of the point of this subterfuge was to try and provoke a response by the PKI.  In anticipation of that response, Bradley Simpson has written, “the CIA organized covert operations and propaganda efforts for the better part of a year.” As he also notes, the CIA had a role in encouraging and aiding the mass killings of PKI supporters through Moslem groups, youth gangs, and other anti communist forces. (For a gripping recreation of how this was done locally, see the acclaimed documentary film The Act of Killing)

    But Washington’s covert aid was consciously kept as secret as possible, since it would have provided a great propaganda boon to Sukarno in reining in the bloody chaos that was consuming his country. In the face of the massacres, National Security Advisor Walt Rostow recommended a policy of silence by the White House. But secretly the CIA was sending cash, small arms and communications equipment to aid the slaughter, since Nasution and Suharto had requested them. If that wasn’t enough, the American Embassy was furnishing the army with lists of PKI members. (See Monthly Review, December 2015)

    After placing Sukarno under house arrest, the Council of Generals eventually took complete power in 1966. Once the PKI was liquidated, the Council sold off their fabulously rich country to American and European imperialists. Suharto, for one example, became a billionaire; while the great mass of Indonesians lived in brutal, grinding poverty.

    As I said, I am not going to attempt to elucidate in any serious detail the chilling events that occurred in September and October of 1965 in Indonesia.  Authors who have studied it for years still have yet to convincingly explicate all of its complications. And that is not Poulgrain’s aim either.  What his book does is explain the long back-story as to why the horror of 1965 happened.  And it does so mainly through the figure of Allen Dulles.

     II

    In narrating this discouraging, sometimes depressing, tragic epic, it is imperative to understand that it was Sukarno who convened the first conference of non-aligned nations in Indonesia in 1955, which was actually arranged by his foreign minister and held in Bandung. For Sukarno, the term “non-aligned” meant just that.  These were nations that did not want to commit themselves one way or the other to the Cold War competition between the U.S. and Russia. They wanted to be neutral and to stay neutral.  They also wanted to be free to accept aid from both superpowers without the acceptance showing a commitment to Moscow or Washington. 

    This was not satisfactory with the Eisenhower administration, especially with Secretary of State John Foster Dulles and his brother, CIA Director Allen Dulles.  Yet the irony is that Sukarno and many of his allies like Nasser of Egypt staged the conference for the specific reason that they did not trust the Dulles brothers.  (Robert Rakove, Kennedy, Johnson and the Non-Aligned World, p. 3)  One could understand that readily after watching what happened in Iran and Guatemala in 1953 and 1954. Foster Dulles’s State Department issued a paper calling Sukarno’s conference and the growing non-aligned movement, “one of the most dangerous political trends of the fifties.” (ibid, p. 6) The Secretary seriously contemplated staging a shadow Bandung conference with conservative, sympathetic American allied nations. (ibid, p. 9)  In a speech Foster Dulles gave in Iowa in 1956, he called neutrality in the Cold War a false pretense and he said he had constructed his string of alliances across the world, such as SEATO, the Baghdad Pact, to eliminate neutrals. Because of this, Allen Dulles began secretly funding the Masjumi Muslim party to the tune of a million dollars in one year. In fact, the Church Committee did find some evidence that the CIA may have been behind the assassination attempt of Sukarno in 1957. (op. cit. Scott)

    This was one point of contention between Sukarno and the Eisenhower administration. Another one was the dispute between the Netherlands and Sukarno over the territory of West Irian (also called Irian Java, West Papua and West New Guinea). This was part of an island territory that the Dutch maintained control of after Indonesia won its independence a few years after World War II. As Rakove notes, although Foster Dulles was neutral about this dispute in public, privately he did not want to give the territory over to Sukarno. (p. 15)

    Kennedy and Sukarno meet at the White House

    The first researcher to fully integrate this dispute over West Irian into a comprehensive essay on the Indonesia overthrow of 1965 was Lisa Pease.  She did this in her landmark essay entitled “JFK, Indonesia, CIA and Freeport Sulphur.”  That scintillating essay was first published in the May/June 1996 issue of Probe magazineIt was Part Two of her series on the huge mining company Freeport Sulphur, today called Freeport McMoran. And although some have said that her essays are in the book The Assassinations, they are not. One has to purchase the Probe CD to read that excellent series. (Oddly, Poulgrain does not source Lisa’s work in his notes or bibliography.)

    In her essay, Lisa was one of the first to point out the importance of the Ertsberg lode and how it figured into the dispute between the Dutch and Sukarno. And further, how it later figured into the overthrow of Sukarno’s government, which he called a “guided democracy.” 

    In 1936 a Dutch geologist named J. J. Dozy discovered two enormous mineral deposits in West Irian.  One was called the Ertsberg and the other, only two kilometers away, was called the Grasberg.  The former was a mountain, the latter an elevated meadow.  (Poulgrain, p. 6) The political ramifications of this find have extended over the decades to this very day because the Dozy report was both kept hidden and also deliberately distorted.  One of the reasons for this is that Dozy discovered that the concentration of gold ore at Ertsberg was twice as rich as the wealthiest gold mine in the world at that time, which was located in South Africa. But further, the same gold ore at the Grasberg appeared to be even richer than the Ertsberg. (Ibid, pgs. 6,7)

    Needless to say, this discovery significantly altered the geopolitical importance of Indonesia—especially for the so-called Power Elite. A central reason for this was that one of the main architects of the Dozy expedition was Allen Dulles through his law firm Sullivan and Cromwell. (Poulgrain, p. 7)  Dozy was instructed not to formally announce the results of his findings for the simple reason that the Dutch control of West Irian was weak.  But further, the consortium of companies that arranged and financed the three-man expedition was a dual Dutch/American operation. On the American side, the two partners were two divisions of the Rockefeller-controlled petroleum colossus, Standard Oil. Since Sullivan and Cromwell organized the expedition, it was Standard that had a 60% controlling interest in the enterprise. (ibid, p. 17)

    As the author notes, in its decades long struggle to hang on to West Irian, the Dutch never made public the true facts of what Dozy’s expedition had discovered. But also, the American side of the consortium never accepted the Dutch offer to begin to actually break ground and exploit the mining potential of both areas. As Poulgrain postulates, the Ertsberg and Grasberg were at high elevations (about 14,000 feet) and in difficult locations for mining operations.  The Dutch did not have the wherewithal at the time to pull off such an engineering feat. In fact, as Lisa Pease points out, when Freeport Sulphur finally did break ground, they had to go to Bechtel Corporation to construct the engineering aspects of the mining.

    The Dulles brothers

    In a subsequent report about the expedition that was technical in nature, the gold potential of the Ertsberg was greatly discounted, while its copper content and remoteness was played up. (ibid, p. 24)  With this camouflage in place, the next objective for Sullivan and Cromwell was to force the Dutch out of the deal.  By refusing to cooperate with them on the mining engineering, Standard was attempting to do just that.

    In 1962, a second expedition ascended the Ertsberg. This was on the occasion of Sukarno and Indonesia taking control of the area.  This second mission actually discovered a notebook deliberately left behind by Dozy but again, the content of this notebook was kept shrouded in secrecy. In fact, Dozy lied to Poulgrain about it being returned to him. (p. 31)  Even at this late date, both Dozy and Freeport Sulphur’s geologist Forbes Wilson continued to discount the gold and silver deposits there and to exalt the copper deposits. Dozy’s secret report said that the gold at Ertsberg amounted to 15 grains per ton. In reality it was 15 grams per ton, which makes for a large difference. (ibid, p. 37)

    Around this time, something else was afoot. In interviews Poulgrain did with two Indonesian officials, they both revealed that secret money began to be siphoned to the Indonesian government. It was earmarked for the struggle with the Dutch over West Irian.  The funds were from American sources. (p. 33)  As Standard did not want to help the Dutch mine the area, the Americans did not want the Dutch to take permanent control of West Irian. Standard Oil could find its own partners and the mining company Freeport Sulphur was another Rockefeller-controlled company.

    III

    One of the most interesting parts of the book is the chapter concerning John Kennedy’s relationship with United Nations Secretary General Dag Hammarskjold. Until reading Poulgrain, much of what most observers knew about this relationship was based upon the pair’s interplay in the monumental Congo crisis. Author Richard Mahoney had made that conflict the basis for his milestone book on Kennedy, JFK: Ordeal in Africa.  Kennedy had developed a strong interest in the issues of colonialism and Africa while he was in the Senate. His stance on the two was quite different than the Eisenhower administration’s, for he did not see the emerging countries of the Third World through the “with us or against us” lens that the administration did. For instance, he understood why Nasser did not join the Baghdad Pact.  And Kennedy looked at Foster Dulles’ reaction to this–his attempt to isolate Nasser, favoring Saudi Arabia, and pulling out of the Aswan Dam project–with disdain, since, for one thing, it threw Nasser into the arms of the Russians to get funding for the dam. But Kennedy also thought that America should actually favor someone like Nasser who was more of a socialist/secularist rather than the Saudis who were more Moslem fundamentalists. (See Philip Muehlenbeck’s Betting on the Africans, p. 10ff)

    Dag Hammarskjold was a Swedish economist who worked on the Marshall Plan for Europe. He later became chair of the Swedish delegation to the UN General Assembly.  In 1953 he was elected Secretary General of that body.  Kennedy had nothing but respect and admiration for Hammarskjold.  Upon his death in 1961, he called him the greatest statesman of the 20th century.  As Mahoney pointed out at length and in depth, the two men had much in common during the Congo crisis, and Hammarskjold’s death in a suspicious plane crash in 1961 seemed to galvanize Kennedy on that front.  He was determined to back the followers of Patrice Lumumba and to prevent the mineral rich province of Katanga from splitting off from the country.  He backed a UN military action to prevent the latter. Kennedy’s Congo policy was drastically altered after his death.

    What Poulgrain adds to this equation is that Kennedy and Hammarskjold were also working on a plan for Indonesia. (p. 77)  In interviews the author did with Hammarskjold’s friend and colleague at the UN, the late George Ivan Smith, Smith told Poulgrain that JFK and Hammarskjold were discussing a solution to the West Irian crisis; the Netherlands wanted to hang onto the territory, while Sukarno thought it should be part of Indonesia. Considering the contents of the Dozy report, one can understand the motivation of the Dutch.  

    But further, Smith revealed that those discussions included a back channel by Kennedy to former president Harry Truman. (ibid)  In fact, Truman was well informed enough about the progress that upon hearing of Hammarskjold’s plane crash, he commented: “Dag Hammarskjold was on the point of getting something done when they killed him.  Notice that I said, ‘When they killed him.’”  When asked to develop that point, Truman replied with, “That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter. Draw your own conclusions.” (ibid, p. 78)  In itself, this is remarkable, but it is even more so when coupled with Truman’s famous editorial in the Washington Post a month after Kennedy’s assassination. That column was about how the CIA had strayed too far from what Truman imagined its original mission was. (James DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed,  pgs. 378-79) With this new revelation about Indonesia, it now becomes apparent that Truman knew something–and if the Warren Commission had been a true fact finding body, which it was not, he would have been a witness before  it.

    As readers of the second edition of Destiny Betrayed know, Allen Dulles visited Truman in April of 1964.  Although Dulles was sitting on the Commission at the time, the visit was not formally related to that body. Dulles was there to try and get Truman to retract his editorial about the CIA becoming a rogue agency.  By the end of the conversation, it had become apparent that the former CIA director suspected that Truman had written the column because he felt the Agency was involved in the JFK murder. (ibid, pgs. 379-81)

    Poulgrain, using Susan Williams’s book Who Killed Hammarskjold?, adduces evidence that Dulles was involved with the murder of Hammarskjold. During the proceedings of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, Desmond Tutu discovered documents concerning a covert project called Operation Celeste. This appears to be a plan to murder the UN Secretary General and there were records of communications from Dulles in the file. The proposed plot machinations included planting a small bomb to disable the outside steering mechanism.  One of the communications stated that the UN had become troublesome and it is felt that Hammarskjold should be removed. Dulles agreed and “has promised full cooperation from his people…” (Poulgrain, p. 74)  And as Williams pointed out, there were two CIA planes on the same runway Hammarskjold was supposed to land on that night. Congruent with this, Dulles had also forwarded information describing the plane the Secretary General would be traveling on and the date of his arrival.  Smith, needless to day, told Poulgrain that he thought Hammarskjold was murdered.

    There was one other project Kennedy was working on with Hammarskjold.  This was something called OPEX.  Hammarskjold was determined to help colonized peoples free themselves, but as an economist, he was also going to try and aid their development once they were free of colonialism. OPEX was a UN group that would send professionals into newly freed states to aid their development–not as advisors, but as adjuncts to the new governments. (ibid, p. 80) Poulgrain writes that this was the concept Dag had in mind for West Irian.  He was planning on turning over the territory to the natives on the island called Papuans. After Dag’s death, Kennedy had to soldier both the Congo and Indonesia crises more or less alone.

    In this author’s opinion, the Hammarskjold assassination (I will not call it a plane crash anymore) has been gravely overlooked by JFK researchers and with the work of Williams, Poulgrain, and Lisa Pease, it should not be. (https://consortiumnews.com/2013/09/16/the-mysterious-death-of-a-un-hero/)  Dag’s assassination, and the Congo crisis, are of key importance in the saga of John F. Kennedy’s career and his murder.

    IV

    Allen Dulles had been working the Indonesia terrain with covert operations for six years when Kennedy became president. It is strongly suspected that the Agency was behind the use of the Moslem extremists Darul Islam in an attempt to assassinate Sukarno in 1957. As Poulgrain notes, it is important to understand that Darul Islam later morphed into Jemmah Islamiah, the terrorist group linked to the Bali bombing of 2002. (p. 86) In other words, the work of the Dulles brothers in backing Saudi Arabia against Nasser, and Darul Islam against Sukarno, had sinister and pernicious future consequences.

    In his work on the background of Allen Dulles, Poulgrain found that in working for the State Department in 1920, one of his functions was to monitor the progress of the Russian Civil War. One reason for this was American interest (read Standard Oil) in the great oil fields at Baku. (ibid, p. 97)  It was here that Dulles met Sergius Alexander Von Mohrenschildt. Sergius was a director of the Nobel family oil fields in Baku, and he was also modernizing the Russian army. Sergius was the father of George DeMohrenschildt.  At the time, George and his mother were living in Baku at the domicile of Sergius. George’s brother Dimitri was in the Russian navy and would soon emigrate (actually escape) to the United States.

    Since Sergius was a White Russian, he was arrested by the Reds but he escaped to Poland with his wife and George.  They lived on a large estate in Poland, but George’s mother died soon after the move. George served in the Polish cavalry for a period of 18 months.  He then went to Belgium for university studies. (p 98)  In 1938, like his brother, George also emigrated to the U.S. He changed his name by dropping the Von and changing it to “de.”

    Standard Oil had targeted the petroleum in the Dutch East Indies since the twenties. They even established a phony Dutch front company to do so. But it was not until 1928 when Standard got concessions for exploration from the Netherlands. Allen Dulles worked on this by telling the Dutch they might lose everything to an outside force, like Japan, because their hold of the archipelago was tenuous.

    During World War II, Dulles arranged for Standard Oil to sell petroleum to Vichy France, effectively selling it to the Germans and that case involved George DeMohrenschildt. (p. 110)  In 1938, George lived with Dimitri on Park Avenue in New York.  It is there that he met Mrs. Bouvier, the mother of Jackie Kennedy.

    The International Cooperation Administration (ICA) was frequently used for CIA cover duties. It was established by Allen and his brother in 1955.  DeMohrenschildt worked for this unit when he went to Yugoslavia as an oil and gas specialist. His job was to recruit workers for a job in Egypt using American equipment.

    Poulgrain makes the case that because of some of his controversial work for Standard Oil  (like with Vichy France), Dulles got DeMohrenschildt out of the country and working for another Rockefeller oil subsidiary called Humble Oil.  He makes a circumstantial case that George was transferred to West Irian in the Dutch East Indies to work on Standard’s oil drilling there. It turned out that in addition to the Ertsberg and Grasberg, West Irian was the home of what turned out to be the largest oil deposit in all of New Guinea. (p. 121)  It was called the Vogelkop, and again, the Dutch tried to keep this hidden. Humble Oil did some preliminary drilling and thought the prospects were promising.  But as Poulgrain shows, this was kept a secret among the Power Elite.  Like the Ertsberg and Grasberg, the idea was to not let Sukarno know about these deposits. In fact, the author makes the case that not even Kennedy knew about them; it puzzled him that the Dutch would want to hang on to what he thought was such a desolate area as West Irian.

    V

    Poulgrain has written a book about the CIA-aided rebellion of the Outer Islands military forces against Sukarno and the central government located at Jakarta.  I have not read the book yet, but he incorporates some of that work into his chapter on the rebellion. The ostensible cause of the uprising was the fact that, for example the island of Sumatra was responsible for about 70% of GDP, but only got about 30% of it back in revenues. In fact Mohammad Hatta, who was Sukarno’s second in command when Indonesia was set free in 1949, resigned from the government in late 1956 over this issue.

    Another perceived problem for the military was the growing influence of the PKI.  Which by 1955 was the fourth largest party in Indonesia. (p. 142)  Sukarno did not really perceive the party as being communists and thought they were more nationalists; this is what he told President Kennedy later. But what accented this for Allen Dulles was Sukarno’s turn toward what he called Guided Democracy. This amounted to taking advice from certain groups in society like veterans and laborers. (p. 148) which to Dulles, looked like a class-oriented government, and not, as he preferred, from the Power Elite down.

    Guy Pauker, a professor at Berkeley and an expert of Southeast Asia, was a consultant for Dulles on Indonesia.  He recommended using the Outer Island dispute to play up the threat of the PKI. (p. 152)  The problem for Allen Dulles was John Allison who was the American ambassador in Jakarta.  He did not see the PKI as a real threat to take over and he did not see Sukarno as a communist or even a pinko. The problem was that many of his reports never got through to John Foster Dulles. In fact, Allen Dulles had installed his man at a new position called the Bureau of Research and Intelligence at State. This is where the directives inside the department came to support the rebellion (p. 153) and there was a working group set up inside this agency that included navy admiral Arleigh Burke that was in direct communication with Sullivan and Cromwell. (p. 155)  Finally Allen Dulles sent a friend and colleague in the Agency named Al Ulmer to visit Jakarta.  He came back and told Foster Dulles that Allison was soft on communism. Allison was now removed as ambassador and sent to Czechoslovakia.  (p. 159)

    Allison was removed in January of 1958. The rebellion began in February.  The story of the rebellion, and its failure, was well told in the book Subversion as Foreign Policy back in 1995.  Poulgrain has clearly read that book, as he refers to it often. But his thesis is different and revisionist.  He argues that Allen Dulles never really wanted the rebellion to succeed for the simple reason that the Dutch still controlled West Irian.  His plan was to have Indonesia take control of West Irian first, and then dislodge Sukarno and decimate the PKI. For that to happen, the main tool would be the army. Dulles felt the army was not a unified force at this time, as exemplified by the dissidents on the outer islands.  Therefore, he would use the rebellion to centralize the army in Jakarta. Once that was done, the possibility of dislodging the charismatic Sukarno was much stronger but only after West Irian was part of Indonesia.

    Poulgrain argues this thesis vigorously with some interesting points that have either been ignored or which he dug up on his own. For instance, Dulles helped General Nasution (who led the counter attack for Sukarno) recover a huge weapons drop originally meant for the rebels. (p. 148)  Also, there was never any serious discussion about rescuing American personnel. Third, a CIA officer named Sterling Cottrell called Nasution four times in one night.  The reason? To be sure he was aware that there was an arms drop for him at Pekanbaru airfield on Sumatra. (p. 204)  Dulles then camouflaged this to the National Security Council by saying the arms were delivered by an unknown third country.

    But further, after the rebellion was defeated, Dulles kept supplying it at a low level even though it had no chance of success. Poulgrain argues that the aim of this was to 1) Maintain martial law, which Sukarno had declared at the outbreak; and 2) Stop any elections from being held so the PKI could not increase its power in the government.

    VI

    Joseph Luns

    In January of 1961, Nasution was in Moscow reviewing a large arms purchase from the Russians. The purchase included bombers, fighters, torpedo boats, submarines, warships and cruisers. (p. 213)  These were to be used in an amphibious assault against the Dutch on West Irian. At the same time, Nasution was talking to Australia who owned the eastern part of New Guinea. He and Sukarno wanted Australia to stay neutral in the coming conflict which they agreed to do. And finally to round off the triangular arrangements, Nasution wires Washington that there is nothing more to his visit to Moscow than an arms deal and he has no sympathies towards the Soviets. (p. 215)

    Dutch foreign minister Joseph Luns visited Washington in April of 1961. He told President Kennedy that Foster Dulles had told him that the U.S. would support the Netherlands if it came to a military confrontation. Kennedy clearly was not sympathetic to this at all.  As stated previously, he could not understand why the Dutch were so determined to maintain such a faraway and desolate island. Luns, of course, was not going to tell him about the Dozy mission and what they found there. (p. 219)

    Luns later proposed a trusteeship that would be administered by the Netherlands. Kennedy and Hammarskjold had discussed a genuine trusteeship, one that would be administered by a neutral third party. They would then allow the Papuans to vote on what they wanted in a referendum. (p. 220)  In fact, Kennedy wanted Hammarskjold to handle the issue. But when the Secretary was killed in September of 1961, the issue fell to him.

    In November of 1961, an event occurred which worked against the trusteeship/referendum concept. Nelson Rockefeller’s son Michael disappeared off the coast of New Guinea. His body was never found after his boat overturned. Although he was collecting primitive art artifacts, Michael was in direct contact with a Standard Oil exploration team. They started a rumor that Papuan cannibals had eaten him. (p. 223)  Since the story was front-page news, it seriously damaged the image of the Papuans.

    Kennedy now wrote Sukarno and told him to hold off on any military attack but Sukarno did call for a general mobilization and launched a small torpedo boat attack, which was met by two Dutch destroyers.  How did they know this was coming?  In a preview of his role in the future, General Suharto relayed the information to Clark Air Base in the Philippines. The military wanted their NATO ally, the Dutch, to be prepared.  (p. 232)

    Kennedy now arranged a conference in New York in which the U.S. would moderate between the two sides. The two representatives for the U.S. were veteran diplomat Ellsworth Bunker and Attorney General Robert Kennedy.  Luns later reported on how vociferous the U.S. was in favor of Sukarno, especially Robert Kennedy.

    Click image to see larger version

    Two notes should be added about the New York Agreement. First, President Kennedy insisted on a clause maintaining a plebiscite for the Papuans in 1969. At that time, they would choose to be independent or stay a part of Indonesia.  Since Suharto had taken control of Indonesia by then and signed a deal with Freeport Sulphur in 1967, this vote turned out to be a military-controlled sham. Second, although Indonesia was not supposed to take over the territory until 1964, they actually took control in May of 1963. This may have been to ensure that the official lease on the Ertsberg expired when it was outside of Dutch control. This was probably urged on by the numerous American allies and CIA agents inside Sukarno’s entourage, like Suharto and diplomat and economist Adam Malik, a highly paid CIA agent.

    After the New York Agreement was signed, Kennedy sent out memos to every relevant agency of  government. He wanted a full-court press in sending as much developmental aid as possible to Sukarno. (p. 236)  He wanted the economy stabilized and growing in order to keep Sukarno friendly with the west.

    A painting of Suharto

    But these good relations were short-circuited by Sukarno’s enemies in government, in Congress, and in the UK. Specifically, these included Dulles’ friend General Lucius Clay and Representative Gerald Ford.  They used Sukarno’s confrontation with the British over the creation of the state of Malaysia to begin to criticize Sukarno over his belligerence with our British friends. Sukarno now began to expel and expropriate foreign businesses, including Standard Oil’s Caltex and Stanvac. Kennedy insisted that they stay, but they negotiate profit sharing deals with Sukarno on a 60/40 basis favoring Indonesia.  Kennedy sent two trade representatives to successfully negotiate the deal. (p. 242)  In comparison, after Suharto, the split Freeport McMoran has with Indonesia today is reportedly 90/10 in Freeport’s favor. The reader can only imagine what Sukarno could have done for the people of Indonesia with the tens of billions he would have gotten in a 60/40 split over the Ertsberg and Grasberg mines.

    The Malaysian confrontation started riots in Jakarta at the British embassy. Kennedy insisted that this should not influence congressional approval over how much aid should go to Sukarno. (p. 244)  But it did and the aid package started to be pecked apart. Sukarno now told the American ambassador in Jakarta, Howard Jones, that he thought the CIA was out to topple his regime. To try and save the situation, Kennedy and Sukarno arranged a state visit for the president to Jakarta in 1964.  One of Kennedy’s goals was to wind down the tensions between Malaysia and Indonesia. In fact, he stated, why stop aid to Indonesia ”because of its attitude toward Malaysia, when three months from now it may or may not be the same as it is today?” (p. 247)

    Kennedy, of course, never got to visit Indonesia or halt the Malaysian crisis. Without Kennedy’s help, Sukarno’s prediction to Jones about the CIA toppling him came true. Sukarno said about JFK’s murder: “Kennedy was killed precisely to prevent him from visiting Indonesia.”

    Greg Poulgrain has written a provocative revisionist history of why the epochal coup in Indonesia happened as it did in 1965.  Along the way he has enlightened us on the crucial figures of Allen Dulles, Sukarno, Dag Hammarskjold and John Kennedy and how they played with and against each other and how this nexus led to a horrible tragedy.

  • The Incubus of Intervention – Chapter 2


    Kennedy’s Planned Trip to Jakarta

    In the Foreword to my book on Malaysian Confrontation, Pramoedya Ananta Toer, one of Indonesia’s leading writers, commented on President Kennedy’s anticipated visit to Jakarta in early 1964:

    Kennedy’s plans to meet Sukarno in Indonesia never came to pass: that we all know, for he was murdered….

    Pramoedya drew attention to the planned visit without elaborating, apart from saying that Kennedy, and Indonesia’s President Sukarno, had to disappear from the stage of history. Half a century has elapsed since these two leaders ‘disappeared’ and with them the political positivity of the now forgotten plan to visit Jakarta. Instead, in the mid-1960s, a proliferation of violence and military mentality suffused the nation. Indonesia still bears the scars. This outcome was in stark contrast to the ‘Indonesia strategy’ Kennedy was planning in 1963. Working in conjunction with Sukarno whose perennial aim was to unify his nation, JFK’s intended visit was lost in the turgid history of that time.

    Kennedy’s proposed visit to Jakarta ‘in April or May of 1964’ according to the long serving US ambassador in Indonesia, Howard Jones, was a strategy to end Malaysian Confrontation. This period of hostility between Indonesia and Malaysia, involving armed skirmishes and provocative political posturing, fell short of war. It started in early 1963 as Indonesian ‘protest’ against the British format of decolonisation which was simply lumping together its disparate colonial possessions in Southeast Asia to ensure the numbers of Chinese overall were in the minority. The reaction in Washington to Confrontation resulted in US aid to Indonesia being reduced to a trickle. Reopening these aid channels was part of Kennedy’s rationale in making the trip because Indonesia was a vital component of his larger strategy in Southeast Asia. Planning the visit to Jakarta involved several months of negotiation before Kennedy and Sukarno reached an agreement; then on November 20th the visit was formally announced. Because of the tragedy in Dallas a few days later, the visit did not occur. ‘The assassin’s bullet put an end to our plans and disposed of the immediate prospects for settlement of the Malaysia dispute,’ wrote Jones.1 Confrontation continued up to 1965/6 when President Sukarno was ousted by General Suharto.

    As shown in my book The Genesis of Konfrontasi, from archival evidence and interviews, Sukarno was not the instigator of Malaysian Confrontation. Instead, the principal Indonesian player was the Foreign Minister, Subandrio, who ran the largest intelligence service in Indonesia and fully expected to be the next president. As well, Confrontation did not start without various covert actions by persons linked to both British intelligence (MI6) and American intelligence (CIA), centered in Singapore and operating outside the aegis of government.

    President Sukarno’s role in Confrontation underwent a change after Kennedy’s assassination. Initially, when Indonesia became embroiled in the conflict not of his doing, Sukarno’s public statements were designed to steer a course through dangerous political currents beyond his control, whereas after November 1963 he was attempting to regain leadership of this anti-British, anti-colonial campaign. This change in Sukarno was reflected in the expression ‘Ganjang Malaysia’, popularised in Western media as ‘Crush Malaysia’. Earlier, Sukarno had disagreed with this interpretation, and actually performed for the media to demonstrate his meaning. ‘Ganjang’, he explained, was like nibbling food in your mouth to check it for taste – as would a politician, checking for any disagreeable taste of colonialism – then spitting it out! Territorial acquisition was not on the menu in Malaysian Confrontation. Nevertheless critics of Indonesia2 readily depicted Confrontation as expansionism because it came hard on the heels of Sukarno’s sovereignty dispute over Netherlands New Guinea, a dispute in which President Kennedy’s role had proved crucial. Sukarno commanded great respect as the founding father of Indonesian independence, but he himself was unable to halt Confrontation because it was driven by domestic political rivalry.

    Having ousted the Dutch from New Guinea, Indonesia in 1963 was still seething with anti- colonial venom. There were three rival streams of Indonesian opposition to Malaysia – one linked with Subandrio, another with the Indonesian communist party (PKI) and another with the Indonesian army. These three disparate groups were involved in the initial border skirmishes with Sarawak in east ‘Malaysia’ being defended by British troops, in the throes of decolonisation. The intermittent conflict drew criticism from Washington through the US ambassador in Jakarta who explained that the US government agreed that ‘Malaysia’ was the best format for decolonisation. Then, in September 1963, after the burning of the British Embassy in Jakarta, bilateral relations with USA were strained to the point where aid for Indonesia was reduced to a minimum. Kennedy’s efforts to ensure his aid program would not falter now attracted criticism from British officials who ‘told the White House with increasing frequency that UK and US interests regarding Indonesia were beginning fundamentally to diverge.’3 Republican Congressman William S. Broomfield claimed that Indonesia was misusing US assistance. Support to cut US aid came from a clique of other Congressmen including Mathias, Gross and Findley.

    Senator Wayne Morse of Oregon then endorsed the ‘Broomfield amendment’, demanding that Indonesia be dropped from the list of recipients of US aid. ’I say we should wipe it off the aid program’, he declared.4

    Kennedy’s planned visit to Jakarta was a radical move to re-open all funding as this was a vital part of the ‘follow-up strategy’ he had set in place after intervening in 1962 in the anti-colonial dispute with the Dutch. In Indonesia, Kennedy’s intervention had stirred popular euphoria in his favour, and this continued into 1963, such was the young American president’s charisma. The Bay of Pigs, the Congo, Berlin, Laos, Vietnam, the Cuban missile crisis – the Cold War crises confronting him were making global headlines which for Indonesian readers kept ‘JFK news’ current, well past the highpoint of the New York Agreement in August 1962. In terms of implementing his ‘follow-up strategy’ to the sovereignty crisis, the ideal time to exploit pro-JFK sentiment was in 1963, yet the proposed date for the visit to Jakarta in early 1964 would still benefit from the kudos surrounding President John F. Kennedy. His ‘footprint of fame’ had been greatly enhanced by intervening in the New Guinea dispute: unresolved since independence in 1949, it had created its own anti-colonial niche in Indonesia’s collective psyche.

    Malaysian Confrontation in 1963 had caused the delay and then the Bloomfield Amendment, cutting the funding for his Indonesia strategy, left JFK no alternative. Only then did he resolve to make the Jakarta visit and employ his charisma as the last political weapon at his disposal. Success for Kennedy’s visit to Jakarta depended upon the response of the Indonesian populace; and this (in late 1963) was still very positive. So it seemed a forgone conclusion that he would have achieved his goal because of the degree of veneration for JFK in Indonesia, combined with the eloquence of Indonesia’s President Sukarno for whom there was still widespread adulation. The politics of personality was the only weapon at the disposal of both Kennedy and Sukarno to bring Confrontation to a stop, and it was their intention to employ it jointly, and to the full, once the US president was in Jakarta. During his three years in office, Kennedy’s image and reputation had acquired a very positive aura throughout Asia and Africa far surpassing his predecessor, President Eisenhower. The 43-year old president was seen as pro-Indonesian – his new political stance and willingness to act decisively, capped off by his intervention in the sovereignty dispute, was in stark contrast to the blatant political interference of his 70-year old predecessor.

    Indonesians and especially Sukarno, whose oratorical skill was well-honed over four decades, welcomed the new style, the new era, as heralded in the inaugural address.

    …Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans – born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace….

    JFK’s political opponents ensconced in Washington throughout the 1950s were unaccustomed to a president asserting such personal control. It was his forte, especially in foreign policy. ‘Kennedy’s instinctive style which was one of personal and intimate command’5 took on unprecedented importance and became a threat to the political strategy of his opponent because it meant he was highly likely to implement the aims of his Jakarta trip.

    Kennedy was aiming for a seismic shift of Cold War alignment in Southeast Asia – bringing Indonesia ‘on side’. As Bradley Simpson stated (in 2008):

    One would never know from reading the voluminous recent literature on the Kennedy and Johnson administrations and Southeast Asia, for example, that until the mid-1960s most officials [in the US] still considered Indonesia of far greater importance than Vietnam and Laos.6

    Kennedy wanted to ensure that Indonesia was secure before implementing any policy decision regarding the US presence in Vietnam. The two interrelated parts of his action plan after the New Guinea sovereignty dispute involved utilising the predominantly pro-US Indonesian army, and large-scale US aid for development projects in Indonesia. Both Kennedy and his opponents in Washington pursued a paradigm of modernisation which had emerged in the late 1950s using the military as the most cohesively organised group in undeveloped countries. Simpson has outlined how the ‘US government’s embrace of military modernization’ in the early 1960s followed on from the March 1959 Draper Committee Report which called for using the armed forces of underdeveloped countries ‘as a major transmission belt of socio-economic reform and development’.

    Admiral Arleigh Burke and CIA director Allen Dulles argued at a June 18 NSC meeting [1959] that the United States ought to expand military training programs in Asia to include a wide range of civilian responsibilities and to encourage Military Assistance Advisory Groups (MAAGs) to ‘develop useful and appropriate relationships with the rising military leaders and factions in the underdeveloped countries to which they were assigned’. A few months later the semi-governmental RAND Corporation held a conference at which Lucian Pye, Guy Pauker, Edward Shils, and other scholars expanded on these ideas.7

    Admiral Arleigh Burke, Dulles and Pauker were ‘promoting the Indonesian armed forces as a modernizing force’ (a strategy linked to Dulles’ role in the 1958 Outer Islands Rebellion – see Chapter 4) and, continues Simpson:

    the army simultaneously pursued a counterinsurgency strategy against internal opponents while greatly expanding its political and economic power following the 1957 declaration of martial law and the takeover of Dutch enterprises.

    By the time Kennedy came to office, much of Southeast Asia-related US policy was infused with military modernisation theory. Civic action programs figured highly in Kennedy’s strategy in Indonesia, utilising the army but also the police, designed to counterbalance the attraction the PKI had for impoverished farmers – like moths to a light in the hope of salvation. The infrastructure and poverty reduction programs were tied to US funding and framed around the assessment made by Tufts University Professor Donald Humphrey. He recommended that US aid to Indonesia starting in 1963 should be in the order of US$325–390 million. Europe and Japan were to have contributed almost half of this, but Kennedy’s aid program soon encountered difficulties in the Congress.

    While still acutely wary of policy interference as occurred with the Bay of Pigs like an inaugural ‘wake-up call’, Kennedy had no way of ascertaining how his Indonesia strategy actually threatened the Indonesia strategy of his opponents. Nevertheless, the fact that JFK insisted on denying the CIA any part in his own negotiations with Sukarno is an indication of the serious distrust he held by 1963. Earlier in 1961, when Dulles was at the height of his power and JFK had been in office only a few months, he had requested a Briefing Paper from the CIA, prior to President Sukarno’s visit in April 1961. The advice given President Kennedy was that ‘we should not now entertain any major increases in the scale of economic or military aid to Indonesia’. Mindful of Allen Dulles and Guy Pauker as the mouthpiece of military modernisation, Kennedy must have interpreted such advice as hypocritical. Similarly, the CIA advice on whether or not Kennedy should support Sukarno’s quest to oust the Dutch from New Guinea lacked not so much insight as vision; it offered only a bleak prospect, saying that whichever way the President moved it would not alter the inexorable rise to power of the PKI.

    It would be gratifying to be able to propose an alternative course of action by the United States which would stand a good chance of turning the course of events in Indonesia in a constructive direction. Unfortunately, this is a situation in which the influence that the United States can exert, at least in the short run, is extremely limited, if (as must be assumed) crude and violent intervention is excluded.8

    Kennedy chose to support Sukarno’s claim to the Dutch territory and follow through with precisely the opposite to what the CIA had advised – an economic aid program to counter the PKI by addressing poverty through civic aid and development projects. When the funding restrictions imposed by Congress brought JFK’s follow-up plan to a standstill and he resolved to make an historic visit to Jakarta to restart the US aid project, the threat to Dulles’ strategy left no option. In the same way that Dulles had offered Kennedy no option in the 1961 Briefing Paper, in 1963 Kennedy’s decision to visit Jakarta left no option for Dulles (whom JFK had already ushered to the political sidelines). We can surmise how the exit of Dulles in 1961 may have seemed a positive move for Kennedy and one that should have helped him in 1963 implement the Indonesia policy he wanted. While Dulles’ removal from office did little to diminish his influence, it could only have exacerbated the threat created by Kennedy’s plan to visit Jakarta. Dulles simply had no answer to counter Kennedy’s dramatic personal initiative to visit Jakarta: or to re-contextualise the same comment from the 1961 Briefing Paper given Kennedy, Dulles had no answer in 1963 ‘if (as must be assumed) crude and violent intervention is excluded’.

    In two crucial aspects, Kennedy’s plan clashed with the ongoing strategy of ‘regime change’ which DCI Dulles had set in motion six years earlier. Firstly, JFK intended to utilise the Indonesian army as ‘servants of the state’ of Indonesia, not for the army to assume power. And secondly, Kennedy’s intention was to maintain the presidency of Sukarno. Unbeknown to Kennedy, his plan to use the army was in effect commandeering the same asset intended by Dulles to implement regime change. Not only was JFK usurping the benefits of the transformation occurring as a result of US training of Indonesian army officers – a process which David Ransome labelled with the pithy description, a ‘creeping coup d’etat’9 – but ensuring Sukarno remained president would prevent the full military option. Kennedy would not simply have overruled his opponent but, in addition, keeping Sukarno as president would have prevented gaining untrammelled access to natural resources, a project which had been many years in the planning. We may surmise Kennedy was partially aware that his overall plan was making use of a military option still in its preparatory stage, simply from the large number of Indonesian army officers being trained in the US. Their common ground was ‘the ideological focus of US officials on the military as a modernizing force’, but where Kennedy was starkly at odds with his Washington opponents was his determination to retain Sukarno as President of Indonesia.

    The visit to Jakarta was premised on an understanding between Kennedy and Sukarno to bring Malaysian Confrontation to an end, while JFK was in Jakarta. Howard Jones, US Ambassador in Jakarta from 1958, was well acquainted with Sukarno and fully aware that the key to achieving this important political change was Kennedy’s charisma, combined with the adulation and respect he commanded. Together, Kennedy and Sukarno could bring about a cessation of Malaysian Confrontation but, as Jones observes in his book Indonesia: the Possible Dream, ‘Sukarno could not initiate a settlement of the dispute himself ’.10

    JFK’s Secretary of State, Dean Rusk, in personal correspondence with me (January 8, 1992)11 wrote: ‘President Kennedy made it clear that confrontation between Indonesia and Malaysia should be stopped….’ Only after several months of negotiation with the Indonesian President did Kennedy agree to the proposed visit, after three requests by Sukarno. The one precondition set by Kennedy was his insistence on achieving a ‘successful outcome’. Rusk confirmed in writing the arrangement with Sukarno: ‘President Kennedy made it clear that confrontation between Indonesia and Malaysia should be stopped, not merely for the duration of Kennedy’s visit but on a permanent basis’. However, it was not confrontation that was stopped but rather, the visit by Kennedy himself.

    For Sukarno, Kennedy’s precondition meant declaring a permanent cessation of hostilities during the actual visit of the American president; while for JFK himself, a ‘successful visit’ meant ending the hostilities which were jeopardising the Indonesia strategy he had initiated in 1962 and which Malaysian Confrontation in 1963 was threatening to turn into just another ‘Cold War fatality’.

    As part of a wider Southeast Asian tour, the visit was described by JFK as one that would provide a much needed boost to his chances for re- election. This tongue-in-cheek explanation understated the real political significance which the visit held for Kennedy himself. Now with a half- century of hindsight, the adverse repercussions of not making that trip to Jakarta are more clearly delineated in terms of the tragedy that befell Indonesia in 1965. In Cold War terms, Kennedy’s Indonesia strategy held every chance of success – indeed, the very likelihood of success compelled the decision to prevent the trip. For Dulles’ Indonesia strategy, Kennedy’s intention to support and prolong the Sukarno presidency was political anathema.

    Why Kennedy Retained Allen Dulles

    Between election and inauguration, John Kennedy had 72 days to survey the tumult of domestic and international issues soon to be encountered as the 35th President. Some of these, among other issues, included political unrest in the Congo, Laos, Vietnam and Berlin. Two such issues actually ballooned into potential crises during his time as President-elect. One of these involved Cuba, the other Indonesia and both involved Allen Dulles as Director of Central Intelligence (DCI). President Kennedy for various reasons had retained Dulles from the Eisenhower administration, a fateful inheritance from the ailing incumbent.

    When Kennedy began organising his administration as President- elect, the first press announcement he made was that Allen Dulles would remain as DCI. In finding ‘the best person for the job’ to meet the multifarious demands of staffing the new administration, staff which finally included fifteen Rhodes scholars, Kennedy often adopted a bipartisan approach. Surely, choosing Dulles indicated that Kennedy did not regard him as being among the ‘opponents in Washington’? Yet within the first three months of the Kennedy presidency, Dulles had inflicted so much political damage this question does not bear answering, but simply prompts another: why, then, did Kennedy retain Dulles as DCI? Dulles was an icon of US intelligence. Since 1916 – before John Fitzgerald Kennedy was even born – Dulles had served in that specialised field under every US president since Woodrow Wilson.

    Another reason for retaining Dulles was linked to the narrow victory over Republican presidential contender, Richard Nixon. The winning mar- gin of votes – only 120,000 out of a total of 69 million12 – was attributed to Kennedy’s success in the televised debates. Theodore Sorensen, Kennedy’s speechwriter and special counsel throughout most of his political career, from Congressman to Senator and then President, described the debates as ‘the primary factor in Kennedy’s ultimate victory’.13 The televised debates in October 1960 were the first time such an event was held although nowadays televised debates between presidential candidates are the norm. For Kennedy and Nixon, there were four debates, four unprecedented opportunities to reach millions of Americans, and the first (which was on domestic policy) had an audience of 70 million. The second and third debates were questions and answers, while the fourth debate was on foreign policy, and this was where Allen Dulles played his hand. Castro and Cuba ‘only 90 miles from our shore’ had been much in the news during the year of presidential campaigning and claimed an important part of the fourth debate. Nixon already knew that the CIA was planning an invasion of Cuba, but of course could not mention this during the debate; but Dulles had provided Kennedy a strategically timed briefing on Cuba shortly before the debate. Dulles did not divulge information about the invasion – that would come at Palm Beach when he was President-elect and during his first week of office – but at this stage Dulles gave Kennedy the edge with other intelligence which proved crucial during the debate. And crucial too, it seems, when the time came for Kennedy to decide whether or not to retain Dulles as DCI. Dulles’ briefing must have seemed like a godsend when Kennedy was analysing the votes that won him the presidency.

    There was still another reason for Dulles being included in the President-elect’s first announcement. After winning the Democratic nomination, Kennedy had requested two persons to prepare separate reports on the anticipated transition from Republican to Democratic administration. These two persons were Columbia professor Richard Neustadt and Clark Clifford whom Sorensen described as ‘a Washington attorney’. His former experience, however, included special counsel to President Truman during the 1948 presidential campaign against Thomas E. Dewey. Special counsel for Dewey was Allen Dulles who was also ‘the confidential link on foreign policy matters between the Truman administration and the Dewey campaign’.14 So in 1960, bipartisanship in relation to Allen Dulles was revisiting Clifford’s earlier contact with Dulles. In both reports, Kennedy was advised to retain Dulles as DCI (and J. Edgar Hoover as director of the FBI).15 Ironically, in May 1961 after the Bay of Pigs fiasco, Kennedy invited Clifford into the President’s Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board to ensure the accuracy and unbiased nature of the intelligence being supplied to the President. Neustadt had recommended the directors of five ‘sensitive positions’ remain unchanged, but of these only Dulles and Hoover were retained. Sorensen quipped that, of the five, ‘Kennedy kept only the first two, whom the dinner guests the previous evening had reportedly suggested be the first to be ousted’.16

    The intelligence on Cuba, which Dulles provided to Kennedy before the crucial debate with Nixon, gave the Democratic candidate a clear advantage over his Republican rival. More than just highlighting Dulles’ familiarity with Cuba, this showed Dulles was investing in the possibility of Kennedy winning the presidency. Perhaps even more than this, it showed Dulles (who through family and social connections knew ‘Jack’ Kennedy, his wife and the extended family) already had his measure of the man. Dulles knew that Kennedy would not leave this debt unpaid. As it turned out, the narrower the margin of winning votes, the greater seemed the debt, and if Dulles’ briefing before the historic debates could be described as a pre-election psychological strategy, it worked perfectly. Kennedy’s perceived familiarity with the issue of Cuba may have proved crucial in winning the debate, but Dulles’ duplicity soon became apparent. In Kennedy’s first week in office, it was his unfamiliarity with the issue of Cuba, or rather, the CIA’s half-baked invasion of Cuba, that proved to be an international embarrassment for the new president. Sorensen commented: ‘The Bay of Pigs had been – and would be – the worst defeat of his career’.17

    Fidel Castro’s Cuba, not Indonesian Papua, became the bête noir of US foreign policy after the CIA invasion force foundered in the Bay of Pigs on April 18, 1961. Castro’s declaration of a socialist state and the importing of Soviet missiles led to a nuclear standoff. While Kennedy negotiated with Khrushchev, the world, collectively, held its breath. Cuba, however, had not become the touchstone of Cold War tension without the initial input from Allen Dulles.

    Apart from the generational difference, JFK and Dulles both were in office alongside their siblings, JFK’s younger brother Robert as Attorney General and DCI Dulles’ elder brother John Foster Dulles was Eisenhower’s Secretary of State. The depth of experience in the two Dulles brothers was unprecedented, starting from the Versailles Treaty with John Foster drawing up the reparations agreement and Allen in the intelligence section. Between them was always a fierce sense of rivalry to achieve results in international affairs, continuing the sibling rivalry that had persisted throughout their childhood. John Foster was firstborn and favourite whereas Allen, born seven years later with a clubfoot, was always trying to prove he was as good as Foster, if not better. It was Allen, not Foster, who had always wanted to be Secretary of State. There had already been two family members in that office – an uncle in the Wilson presidency and their maternal grandfather, in the Harrison presidency – yet it was John Foster not Allen who achieved that goal when Eisenhower became president in 1953.

    If there was any similar in-family rivalry in the Kennedy clan, it disappeared after the deaths of the eldest son during the war and the eldest daughter soon after the war. In the case of John and Robert Kennedy when JFK was president, the two brothers were intensely reliant on each other’s abilities and tended to act as one unit, as in Robert’s negotiations with President Sukarno and Dutch Foreign Minister Luns in the New Guinea sovereignty dispute. In Kennedy’s various elections starting in 1952, culminating in the presidency, Robert was his trusted campaign manager. In the first Eisenhower administration, the link between John Foster as Secretary of State and Allen as Director of Central Intelligence, on both official and family levels, was seen by the media as beneficial to the national interest. The Dulles brothers were perceived as having created their own legend even before serving together under Eisenhower. While acting together, however, they were not one unit as the Kennedys were in the 1960s. The media reaction to this was often expressed in religious terms, JFK being the first Catholic to reach the office of president. John Foster followed his father in the Presbyterian faith, attending church every Sunday, whereas Allen had adulterous affairs for most of his working life without jeopardising his lifelong role in intelligence.

    Similar indiscretion by John Kennedy may have led to the political pressure referred to by Frederick Kempe18 for retaining Allen Dulles and J. Edgar Hoover. Allen revelled in intelligence whereas John Foster ‘often chose to adopt the State Department mentality of knowing as little as possible about sordid operational details of intelligence’. Grose expounds this point further, saying that Allen always claimed his duty was intelligence, and policymaking was John Foster’s responsibility but ‘Allen was ever imaginative in devising intelligence operations that by their very nature determined the shape of national policy’.19

    When John Foster Dulles passed away in April 1959, after two years of failing health because of colon cancer, Allen’s covert intelligence operations entered an even more radical stage. Allen began taking bigger risks. John Foster had not wanted Allen to succeed him as Secretary of State and bluntly told him so, closing the door on that lifelong ambition. He recommended that his successor be Christian Herter who was reliant on crutches because of osteoarthritis. Christian Herter and Allen Dulles were not close friends, despite being acquainted since the First World War. With a new Secretary of State for the remaining twenty-one months of the Eisenhower administration, the change in dynamic in the upper echelon of power influenced Allen’s mode of operations. As well, John Foster’s death no doubt served as a reminder to Allen of his own mortality. He was, after all, almost 67 years old when retained by Kennedy as Director of Central Intelligence. He was reaching the end of his career and the culmination of a major project centred on the Indonesian archipelago which had first caught his attention years earlier. The CIA- assisted ‘covert operation’ in Indonesia, the Outer Islands rebellion (otherwise known as the PRRI-Permesta rebellion which is examined in Chapter 4) was but one part of this major project. Allen Dulles has been openly linked with this rebellion which started in February 1958. It ended almost immediately, although for the next few years he maintained a supply of weapons for the rebels because continuing conflict ensured the officially declared ‘state of emergency’ also continued. This effectively delayed the holding of elections in Java and precluded the possibility of the Indonesian communist party attaining any increased representation or political power through the ballot box.

    As a result of his vast experience in diplomacy, oil, intelligence and state affairs, Allen Dulles had at his disposal a network of contacts which he used in his Indonesia project. Ultimately, he was aiming for regime change, the essential ingredient of which was a central army command. Aware of the immense potential of natural resources in Netherlands New Guinea since pre-war days, Dulles wanted the Dutch territory to become part of Indonesia. While this was achieved on Sukarno’s watch, it was done only because the central army command was already amassing in the corridors of power awaiting regime change.

    When Kennedy officially ended Dulles’ role as Director of Central Intelligence on November 29, 1961, Allen’s network of contacts was like an intelligence tsunami held in abeyance. The president described the departing DCI in prophetic terms:

    I know of no other American in the history of this country who has served in seven administrations of seven Presidents – varying from party to party, from point of view to point of view, from problem to problem, and yet at the end of each administration each President of the United States has paid tribute to his service – and also has counted Allen Dulles as their friend. This is an extraordinary record, and I know that all of you who have worked with him understand why this record has been made. I regard Allen Dulles as an almost unique figure in our country.

    Yet Dulles still commanded enormous influence. The newly appointed director, John McCone, with legions of staff moved into the new building at Langley. Ironically, in the design and construction of the new head- quarters, Dulles had played a prominent role, but he never occupied the new building. He still kept his former office and, as well, took up another with Sullivan and Cromwell, the legal firm in which he had worked with John Foster in the 1930s, representing Rockefeller oil interests and the myriad of subsidiaries. Allen had not actually married into the Rockefeller family as John Foster had done, but nevertheless his lifelong association with Standard Oil made him an essential member of the extended family. In the years between the First and Second World Wars, there was no legal restriction on someone like Allen Dulles sharing his expertise between private enterprise and the State Department as mentioned by John D. Rockefeller, at 98 years of age, openly expressing his thanks in his pre-Second World War publication, Random Reminiscences of Men and Events:20

    We did not ruthlessly go after the trade of our competitors and attempt to ruin it by cutting prices or instituting a spy system…. One of our greatest helpers has been the State Department in Washington…. I think I can speak thus frankly and enthusiastically because the working out of many of these great plans has developed largely since I retired from the business fourteen years ago.

    Rockefeller’s reputation as ‘the richest man in history’ was not achieved without the acumen of Dulles gaining entry into oil rich regions, from the ‘Near East’ to the ‘Far East’, when European colonial power was still dominant. The important mining and oil exploration conducted in Netherlands New Guinea shortly before the Second World War (as revealed by Jean Jacques Dozy in Chapter 1) was an important part of the ‘oil-intelligence project’ which focused on Indonesia in its entirety. Ensuring West New Guinea changed hands, from Dutch to Indonesian control, became an integral part of Allen Dulles’ political strategy which then proceeded with the already advanced plan for ‘regime change’ in Indonesia. The problem was: for Dulles’ strategy, JFK’s notion of visiting Jakarta to support Sukarno, ensuring he would remain president, was political anathema.

    Pre-war development in the New Guinea territory was meagre – with half a dozen small colonial settlements, scattered around the far-flung coastline. These had begun as a cluster of army encampments at the turn of the century in response to the US gaining control of the nearby Philippines. Within a few years, the giant US company, Standard Oil, which then was inseparable from the name Rockefeller, had initiated a takeover bid for Dutch oil interests in the Indies. The Dutch responded by joining forces with the British in 1907 to form Royal Dutch Shell. This started decades of pressure from Rockefeller oil interests to gain exploration rights in the vast, unmapped Dutch territory of New Guinea. Ultimately, in May 1935, with the formation of the Netherlands New Guinea Petroleum Company21 which had 60% controlling US interest, Standard Oil was successful, but only with the help of their top European- based lawyer, Allen Dulles. NNGPM, as the company was called, was formed with the approval of Sir Henri Deterding, general manager of the Royal Dutch Shell group of companies since 1900. Deterding and Rockefeller, in former days, had been fierce opponents in the global oil business. When Allen joined his brother John Foster Dulles in Sullivan and Cromwell, the top Wall Street legal firm, his first big case in 1928 brought him face to face with Deterding. Despite the silver hair and penetrating black eyes which helped to create a Napoleonic presence, Deterding backed down and Allen Dulles won. Yet by the mid-1930s, when NNGPM was formed, Dulles and Deterding shared a common interest in the new leader of Germany, Adolf Hitler. Dulles had wasted no time in arranging to speak with Hitler personally, soon after he came to power in 1933, and Deterding’s friendship with Hitler led to million dollar donations. However, the key element which swayed Dutch opinion in the formation of NNGPM was the evidence that Japanese units were secretly conducting oil exploration in New Guinea territory. Without American assistance the Dutch could do little to assert colonial control and Dulles used the political tension generated by the Japanese incursion of colonial sovereignty to push through the 60% US controlling interest in NNGPM.

    Leading up to the Second World War in the Pacific, the Japanese Navy formulated a grand theory of expansion, not merely as an answer to the problems the Japanese army was facing in its program of expansion in China, but as a grand theory of new development. It was called ‘the march to the South’ or Nanshin-ron. Here lay the wealth of the Netherlands East Indies; here there was oil, and in populous Java a market for the Japanese product. For natural resources, the eyes of the Japanese Navy turned to New Guinea. They envisaged this vast island (more than twice the total area of all the islands of Nippon) becoming the source of raw materials for a new imperial Japan. Nanshin-ron took shape with industrial speed in the upper echelons of Japanese Naval Intelligence which used a vanguard of fishing ships estimated by Dutch Intelligence to number as many as 500. Admiral Suetsugu, Commander of combined Japanese fleets and later Minister of Home Affairs, described these ‘fishermen’ as an integral part of the ‘March South’. Japanese anthropologists were dispatched to collect information on the tribespeople of New Guinea. The concern about Japanese intrusion as expressed by Jean Jacques Dozy (in the interview in Chapter 1) was part of this pre-war expansion utilised by Allen Dulles to gain the 60% US controlling interest in NNGPM.

    After the Pacific War, geologists attached to General Douglas Mac- Arthur’s forces remained in the Dutch territory for most of the next decade conducting exploration. Only some of their findings were released, such as nickel on Gag Island, which (as mentioned above) was 10% of world nickel reserves. There was no mention of Dozy’s gold discovery. During the 1950s, neither Dulles nor the Dutch political hierarchy was willing to admit that the real issue at the centre of the sovereignty dispute, which so loudly proclaimed the territory had no natural resources, was how to gain control over the gold, copper and oil that lay waiting to be discovered. During the 1950s, using the Cold War to his advantage, Allen Dulles’ strategy took shape.

    At the same time as the Bay of Pigs another crisis was occurring in Indonesia, lesser known but with the same potential for superpower conflict. This dispute between Indonesia and the Netherlands, over sovereignty of the western half of New Guinea, pitted the US-Dutch NATO alliance against Soviet support for Indonesia. Kennedy’s settlement of this crisis and his follow-up strategy to bring Indonesia ‘on side’ in the Cold War came under threat with Malaysian Confrontation – hence the planned visit to Jakarta.

    Introducing Indonesia

    Before looking at Kennedy’s role in the sovereignty crisis, let me re-introduce Indonesia which after China, India and USA now has the fourth largest population in the world. Indonesia had emerged from the ‘colonial era’ only a decade before Kennedy’s involvement. When he expressed criticism of colonial rule (as he did at the UN General Assembly, September 25, 1961, upon the death of UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld) he chose his words carefully to apply not only to the colonised peoples of Africa generally but also to Indonesia specifically.

    He spoke of the exploitation and subjugation of the weak by the powerful, of the many by the few, of the governed who have given no consent to be governed, whatever their continent, their class, or their color.22

    European dominance in navigation, military technology and trade ensured the peoples of the Indonesian archipelago for centuries remained at the beck and call of colonial powers. As described by George Kahin, one of America’s most prominent Indonesia specialists, it was ‘probably the world’s richest colony … (or) ranked just after India in the wealth it brought to a colonial power’.23

    It is our collective unfamiliarity with this vast country which has led to our failure to ascertain how closely intertwined it was with the fate of President Kennedy. He very early recognised the significance of Indonesia not only in the political destiny of Southeast Asia but also in the outcome of the Cold War.

    Indonesia is by far the largest country in Southeast Asia, both in population and in area. Forty-eight degrees of longitude on the equator, Indonesia covers almost one-seventh of the circumference of the globe and has long been prized for its abundant natural resources. Over a timeframe of three and a half centuries, the archipelago gradually came under Dutch colonial control, region by region. As a reflection of Dutch colonial wealth, the 17,000 islands were once described as a ‘belt of emeralds’ slung around the equator. Sulawesi, Kalimantan and Sumatra – three of the five main islands – are intersected by the equator but the other two, Java and Papua, are entirely in the southern hemisphere.

    Not until the 20th century did Bali become part of the Dutch Realm and, after thirty years of war in the western extremity of the archipelago, so too did Aceh. In the eastern extremity, the territory of Netherlands New Guinea was twenty-three percent of the total area of the Indies and virtually untouched – a wilderness with jungle and precipice (in one location 3000m of sheer cliff) rising to cloud-forest, snow-capped mountains and glaciers, just below the equator – yet on international maps ‘Dutch’ since Napoleonic times. Colonial administration in Netherlands New Guinea, according to the official Dutch historian on the eve of World War Two (WW2) when the Japanese Imperial Army occupied the Indies, covered only five percent of the territory. So on August 17, 1945 when Sukarno declared independence, and General Douglas MacArthur’s troops had already re-occupied Netherlands New Guinea, we can say approximately 95% of the territory was occupied by the indigenous Papuan people. It was still ‘the land of the Papuas’24 as named by the Portuguese when they had unsuccessfully attempted to colonise the territory in the early 16th century.

    During the four years after Sukarno proclaimed independence, Indonesians (mainly in Java and parts of Sumatra) desperately opposed all attempts to recolonise. On December 27, 1949, the Dutch relinquished sovereignty of the Netherlands East Indies but retained the territory of New Guinea, announcing a plan to develop it further and bring the indigenous people to independence. However, a campaign to oust the remnant colonial Dutch presence from New Guinea began in the early 1950s. Indonesia claimed the rightful extent of its territory was from Sabang Island, the western extremity of the Indonesian archipelago, to Merauke in the east, a distance of 5390 kilometres (3350 miles).

    Ironically the anti-colonial campaign was focused on the continuing Dutch presence in New Guinea rather than the continuing Dutch presence in Indonesia, as pointed out by Herbert Feith.25 In newly independent Indonesia, he explained, referring to Indonesia at the start of the 1950s, ‘the largest chunks of economic power’ were still mainly in Dutch hands – ‘estate agriculture, the oil industry, stevedoring, shipping, aviation, modern-type banking … internal distribution, trade, manufacturing and insurance’ as well as exporting and, to a lesser degree, importing. It was no wonder that Sukarno often declared that the struggle for indepen- dence was ongoing, his ‘revolution’ not yet finished. Nevertheless, former Foreign Minister Sunario26 pointed out that, in the late 1950s, ‘US sources’ were providing covert funding for the Indonesian army to promote the anti-colonial campaign against the Dutch in New Guinea. Even though Sunario did not confirm the identity of the ‘US sources’, it should be pointed out that the Indonesian army by 1959 had benefitted immensely from Sukarno’s seizure of Dutch assets in Indonesia, as part of the New Guinea campaign. (Consequently, the Dutch companies pressured the Dutch government to relinquish sovereignty in New Guinea, so they could resume business as before in Indonesia.) The money from ‘US sources’ was not simply to assist the army as an investment against the PKI, but was explicitly for the anti-Dutch campaign to ensure it was not unduly influenced by the effusive campaign mounted by the PKI, even though these two anti-colonial streams ran in parallel. Sunario’s information was in the same vein as the concern expressed at that same time in the late 1950s by a prominent Australian politician, Dr Evatt, Leader of the Opposition in the Australian parliament and former President of the UN General Assembly. Evatt pointed to the possible involvement of US oil interests in the Indonesian quest to oust the Dutch from New Guinea, when he declared on November 14, 195727: ‘Surely we are not going to have an argument as to who should have the sovereignty of Dutch New Guinea unless the exploitation of that territory by certain interests is involved’.

    After losing the Indies temporarily to Japan in 1942 and then losing the Indies permanently to Indonesia in 1949, it was not until the 1950s that the Dutch attempted to impose their stamp of colonial rule on the New Guinea territory. This brief period has been recalled in a positive light by many elderly Papuans in the coastal, urban areas because they enjoyed a vast improvement in health and education, but as the Dutch presence increased so did the anti-colonial cry of Indonesia. The claim that the territory should not have been excluded from being part of Indonesia in 1949 only grew louder. The dispute reached crisis level when Indonesia had acquired a centralised army command and arms from the Soviet Union, two of the three things that led to a settlement of the dispute. The third was US intervention.

    A centralised command was an historic step forward for the Indonesian army. Prior to the CIA-assisted 1958 rebellion, the Indonesian army command system across the archipelago was a fractured patchwork of regional commanders fending for their troops. Sukarno himself was in part responsible for creating this disjointed army command in response to an attempted coup in 1952. With little financial support from Jakarta, the head of the army General Nasution had less control over his far- flung battalions than the respective colonels in the Outer Islands, and the CIA exploited this ‘tyranny of distance’. The dramatic change in army command structure, which was brought about by the PRRI/Permesta or Outer Islands Rebellion was engineered on a grand scale by Allen Dulles during the second Eisenhower administration.

    Yet the end result of CIA interference in Indonesian internal affairs via the 1958 Rebellion was depicted as failure at the time, and has consistently been depicted as failure since that time. This holds true only if the stated goal of the CIA was the same as the actual goal. Even more than five decades later, media analysis of the goal of the Outer Island rebels is still portrayed as secession, as covert US support for ‘rebels in the Outer Islands that wished to secede from the central government in Jakarta’.28 The actual goal of Allen Dulles had more to do with achieving a centralised army command in such a way as to appear that the CIA backing for the rebels failed. Dulles was able to deceive, or was capable of deceiving, friend and foe alike, all those who were monitoring the ‘covert operation’ with secession in mind as the stated goal. In the opinion of Howard Jones written more than a decade after he was the US Ambassador in Jakarta in 1958: ‘To the outside world, the conflict was pictured as anti-Communist rebels against a pro-Communist government in Jakarta. In fact, it was a much more complex affair, involving anti-Communists on both sides’.29 In reality, Dulles’ aim was the formation of a central army command from the very start of the rebellion, while the perception of failure served as a lure to his Cold War opponents in Moscow. From the Cold War perspective, the perceived failure of the CIA operation offered Moscow an opportunity to increase its influence, which it did through an arms deal so large that it forced a conclusion to the Netherlands New Guinea sovereignty dispute.

    The chief intelligence officer for the rebels was Colonel Zulkifli Lubis and the army commander under Sukarno was General Nasution. My extended interviews with both Lubis and Nasution (which began in Jakarta in 1983) have led to this completely different explanation for the so-called ‘CIA defeat’ in 1958. (As mentioned above) when Lubis declared ‘the Americans tricked us’, he was referring to the executive branch of government, not those in Sumatra. Nearly all the Americans who were involved onsite in Indonesia, genuinely helping the rebels, did not realise the rebellion was only the first stage of a larger intelligence scenario and their perception that the rebellion failed became an integral part of Dulles stratagem. In short, this 1958 operation (which is more fully explained in a later chapter) was an example of Dulles’ genius in intelligence. Another example was when Soviet penetration was suspected in the intelligence service of the British in the 1950s. It was Allen Dulles who first doubted the allegiance of Kim Philby before he finally defected to Moscow in 1963, an insight that may have helped generate Dulles’ failsafe stratagem in the Indonesian Outer Islands.

    The combination of John Foster as Secretary of State and Allen as DCI during the Eisenhower presidency brought the surname ‘Dulles’ into the public limelight in the early post-war years, so much so that Allen Dulles became the face of US intelligence. This official appointment was acknowledgement of Allen’s known achievements and brought into play his vast underlying experience. There was implicit trust that his private networks and host of contacts (not only from the Second World War but also as far back as the First World War) would somehow be used in the service of the nation. This was not to be the case. Allen Dulles, the Cold War warrior par excellence, used these ‘unknown capabilities’ to achieve his own ends, which ultimately for the nation was a disservice. Many of his friends from the wartime Office of Strategic Services (OSS) utilised their skills when re-employed under DCI Dulles in the 1950s and 1960s. Earlier, with the Cold War looming when Dulles was OSS station chief in Berlin, working alongside him was a young Henry Kissinger.30 Allen had already acquired a legendary status as OSS station chief in Berne during the Second World War, and (as I mentioned in the Introduction) it was Allen Dulles whom the Japanese approached with the first indication of surrender. Perhaps the highest accolade, however, came from Sir Kenneth W.D. Strong who ‘dominated Britain’s spy services for twenty-five years’ and who was the top British representative in the surrender of German forces in Italy after initial negotiations conducted by Dulles. Strong declared Allen Dulles was the ‘greatest intelligence officer who ever lived’.31

    Allen Dulles – Accused

    From the First World War to the Warren Commission, Allen Dulles’ life was immersed in the world of intelligence, dealing with issues that ranged from empire to armaments, national security to regime change, oil, military and many other matters. In Berne during the Second World War, the assistance he provided the Allied war effort from contacts within Germany and his own expertise was nothing less than extraordinary; so much so that in the following decade, Dulles was regarded as an icon of US intelligence and any accusation to the contrary was readily dismissed. However, six years after his death in 1969, a US investigation chaired by Senator Frank Church produced a different profile of Allen Dulles. As part of fourteen reports on US intelligence activities, the Church Committee revealed that some of the activities former DCI Allen Dulles engaged in were nefarious in the extreme and these included the assassination of foreign leaders.

    The Church Committee found that the political assassination of Patrice Lu- mumba in the Congo, which occurred three days before Kennedy’s inauguration, was directly instigated by Dulles. In arranging for an agent to kill Lumumba, Dulles had left a paper trail revealing his role in the form of a telegram to Leopoldville, September 24, 1960:

    We wish [to] give every possible support in eliminating Lumumba from any possibility resuming governmental position….

    The Church investigation found that 
two days later the Congo CIA station
 officer (Hedgman) contacted a CIA go-between named Joseph Scheider (alias Joseph Braun) who did not himself kill Lumumba but was responsible for the group of persons who did. Answering a Church Committee question, Hedgman replied:

    It is my recollection that he (Dulles) advised me, or my instructions were, to eliminate Lumumba.

    By eliminate, do you mean assassinate?

    Hedgman: Yes.32

    The killing of Lumumba, before he had served three months as the first Prime Minister of the Congo, involved much brutality and torture. This was public knowledge at the time; later, when added to the heinous role of Dulles as outlined in the findings of the Church Committee, it shocked the nation, indeed, shocked the world.

    Political instability, created by the mineral rich province of Katanga wanting to break away from newly independent Congo, was fuelled by the killing of Lumumba. In September 1961, in the wake of the violence that erupted after Lumumba’s death, the UN Secretary-General, Dag Hammarskjöld, became involved in mediation between the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Katanga. A few minutes after midnight on Sunday, September 17, 1961, as the UN plane carrying the Secretary- General and 15 others was approaching the Ndola airstrip in Northern Rhodesia (today Zambia), it crashed, killing all.

    Two Rhodesian enquiries in early 1962 concluded ‘pilot error – a misreading of the altimeters’ – had brought down the DC6, known as the ‘Albertina’. However, in March 1962, an investigation by the United Nations did not rule out sabotage although it fell short of stating officially that assassination was suspected. The Church Committee in 1975 did not make any links between Dulles and Hammarskjöld, and a 1993 investigation by the Swedish Ministry of Foreign Affairs concluded the pilot had made an error in judging altitude. Persistent investigation by George Ivan Smith, who was the Secretary-General’s spokesman and close friend, unearthed a disturbingly vital clue that the plane was forced down as a result of interference by hostile aircraft. Whether this caused the crash remained inconclusive. In 1997, more documentary evidence on the death of Dag Hammarskjöld emerged – whether accidentally or deliberately, we may never know – attached to another document, but otherwise unrelated to the widespread investigation carried out by the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC). This chance discovery provided the impetus for a new enquiry which was started in 2012 by the Hammarskjöld Commission. It acknowledged the TRC and examined the documents and letters in some detail to decide if any new evidence justified re-opening another investigation into the death of the Secretary-General. The report of the Hammarskjöld Commission was published in September 2013, fifteen years after the TRC documents had first emerged, and a Report tabled in the UN.33

    In August 1998, the TRC Chairman, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, had called a press conference and released eight documents.34 These papers and letters were additional material discovered in a folder from the National Intelligence Agency. A member of the TRC had requested the folder, seeking information on a 1993 assassination in South Africa, and the additional material happened to be in that same folder the TRC received. The additional sheets of paper referred to an ‘Operation Celeste’ – a plan to assassinate Dag Hammarskjöld – and the letters showed Allen Dulles was involved. Details were included about a small bomb to disable the outside steering mechanism on the underside of the plane carrying the UN Secretary-General in September 1961. The documents bore the letterhead of the South African Institute for Maritime Research (SAIMR) and the name of Allen Dulles was specifically mentioned.

    UNO [United Nations Organisation] is becoming troublesome and it is felt that Hammarskjöld should be removed. Allen Dulles agrees and has promised full cooperation from his people….35

    Information from Dulles included the type of plane the UN Secretary- General would use and the date he would arrive. More importantly, even though the letter was signed by a person at SAIMR, it was directly conveying the words of DCI Dulles. As mentioned above, when Dulles initiated the killing of Lumumba, the evidence brought before the Church Committee was written by Dulles: ‘We wish [to] give every possible support….’

    The wording here seems relatively innocuous but in the context of the Church Committee investigation, the sinister import in Dulles’ euphemism acquires a meaning far more significant. It is the order to kill – but not read as such without the explanation from the CIA station chief in the Congo that Dulles requested him to kill Patrice Lumumba. Otherwise the euphemistic expression ‘give every possible support’ might well have been interpreted as if Dulles had played a secondary role when, in fact, he initiated the action that led to the assassination of Patrice Lumumba. In the case of Hammarskjöld, the TRC document states that Dulles promised ‘full cooperation’ but this was written by a ‘commander’ of SAIMR, the intelligence organisation mentioned in the documents. The same commander then states:

    I want his [Hammarskjöld’s] removal to be handled more efficiently than was Patrice.

    This sentence also links SAIMR with Dulles, whom we know already initiated the killing of Patrice Lumumba. Up until the Church Committee proved otherwise, Lumumba’s death had been regarded as the tragic outcome of violence initiated by local tribespeople. But the order to kill Lumumba was given by Dulles, to be carried out by SAIMR, and local people were involved only in the final act. Using the similar euphemistic term of ‘promising full cooperation’, an equivalent scenario for Operation Celeste would have Dulles (from his office in Washington) initiating the killing of the UN Secretary-General, and for the operators, SAIMR (as revealed in the TRC documents) to carry out the assassination using lo- cally based European mercenaries including a pilot or two in the final act.

    The ‘Operation Celeste’ documents were examined in 2011 by Susan Williams in her book Who Killed Hammarskjöld with extensive research into SAIMR. She concluded that it was involved in covert action over many years, and that its structure was in ‘cells’ which operated independently. This raises the possibility that ‘Operation Celeste’ involved SAIMR cells for three separate actions against Hammarskjöld’s plane involving hostile aircraft, a 6kg bomb to disable the steering mechanism and the altimeters.

    There is a strong possibility that the altimeters were sabotaged as one way of bringing about a crash. The 2013 Commission presented reliable evidence that incorrect barometric readings (QNH) were given to the Albertina by Ndola air traffic control. Attention was drawn to the fact that the voice recordings of the air traffic controller at Ndola were turned off, possibly deliberately. As well, before the Albertina (Hammarskjöld’s plane) departed for Ndola, where it crashed, there was a four-hour period when the plane was left unattended. If altimeters in the cockpit of the Albertina were sabotaged, how was it possible sabotage was not detected in subsequent testing of the altimeters? In the ‘Comments from the United Nations’ (attached to the 1962 crash report) it was stated there could have been a ‘misreading of the altimeters’36 as the DC6, just after midnight descended to 5000ft and was doing a procedural turn in preparation to land when it clipped trees and crashed at 4357ft. The action of a small fighter plane, which began to harass the DC6 in the final few minutes of descent, made the advice coming from Ndola air traffic control vitally important because the pilot at that moment would have been relying entirely on air traffic control and his own reading of the altimeters.

    Immediately after the crash in September 1961, one of the first actions was removal of the altimeters. There were two CIA planes waiting at Ndola airport, ready to offer assistance. The altimeters were checked in the USA and the all clear was given by J. Edgar Hoover whose FBI intelligence network often overlapped with Dulles’ CIA. The 2013 Commission findings do not seem to have even considered the possibility that the ‘official check’ on the altimeters might have been fraudulent.

    Although it has been suggested that a false QNH was given to the Albertina on its approach to Ndola, all three altimeters were found after the crash to be correctly calibrated.37

    The Commission tended to dismiss reliable evidence that the Albertina was given a false QNH on its approach simply because they did not consider the possibility that J. Edgar Hoover’s check on the altimeters might have been fraudulent. J. Edgar Hoover’s affiliation with Dulles needs no explanation (other than to say Kennedy re-appointed them both together). Because the Celeste documents refer to Allen Dulles in the plot to assassinate the UN Secretary-General, the reliability of the check on the altimeters must be seriously questioned.

    In the United Kingdom in 1983, I interviewed two UN officers, Conor Cruise O’Brien who was in the Congo at the same time as Hammarskjöld, and George Ivan Smith who was there soon after the crash. Both UN officials expressed their belief that the Secretary-General was assassinated, despite the inconclusive evidence of the official investigations. Three times I visited George Ivan Smith38 who lived at Stroud in Gloucestershire.

    He had at first worked also alongside Hammarskjöld’s predecessor, Trygve Lie, a Norwegian. The first Secretary-General of the United Nations resigned in 1953, making way for Dag Hammarskjöld from Sweden. He and George Ivan Smith worked together over a period of eight years, becoming close friends. Ivan Smith was a trusted associate of Hammarskjöld, at times taking on a dual role as spokesman and confidant. It was in this role, Ivan Smith explained to me, discussing hopes and aspirations, the Secretary-General referred to an impending UN announcement which Hammarskjöld had been formulating in the preceding months of 1961. He fully intended to implement his plans upon his return from the Congo, but he never did and the announcement died with him! The Secretary-General arrived in Leopoldville on September 13, 1961, a few days before the fatal flight to Ndola where the plane crashed shortly after midnight on September 17/18th.

    Before Dag Hammarskjöld departed on the mission of mediation which claimed his life, George Ivan Smith noted that the Secretary- General was very much focused on the plan he intended to launch at the UN General Assembly after dealing with the unrest in the Congo. Hammarskjöld had been conducting private talks with President Kennedy about the long running dispute between Indonesia and the Netherlands over sovereignty of West New Guinea. Leading up to the General Assembly meeting in 1961, these talks had crystallised into new UN policy. At the same time, Kennedy had also engaged in confidential discussion on this and other issues with former president, Harry S. Truman (who one year earlier had doubted whether the youthful JFK had the foreign policy experience that was needed in the White House.) During his first year in office, Kennedy and his wife, Jacqueline, so much won the approval of Mr and Mrs Truman that they were known to stay overnight with the Kennedy family in the White House.

    In terms of wending one’s way through Cold War issues, Kennedy’s understanding with Hammarskjöld over the proposal to resolve the New Guinea sovereignty dispute, which now held the potential for conflict with Moscow, no doubt had Truman’s support. Hammarskjöld’s resolve to implement a policy of ‘Papua for the Papuans’ was in effect a countermeasure to rising Cold War tension, an example of his Swedish- style ‘third way’ proposing a form of ‘muscular pacifism’.39 His plan was to annul all claims to sovereignty other than the indigenous inhabitants and to announce this at the UN General Assembly in October/November 1961, but his death occurred in September.

    Surprisingly, Harry S. Truman, expressing his opinion on the tragic news to reporters of the New York Times on September 20, 1961, commented enigmatically:

    Dag Hammarskjöld was on the point of getting something done when they killed him. Notice that I said ‘When they killed him’.

    The report in the New York Times continued:


    Pressed to explain his statement, Mr Truman said, ‘That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter. Draw your own conclusions’.

    The Hammarskjöld Commission in 2013 commented on the statement to the press made by Harry S. Truman:

    There is no reason to doubt the accuracy of the New York Times’ report. What we consider important is to know what the ex-President, speaking (it should be noted) one day after the disaster, was basing himself on. He is known to have been a confidant of the incumbent President, John F. Kennedy, and it is unlikely in the extreme that he was simply expressing a subjective or idiosyncratic opinion. It seems likely that he had received some form of briefing.40

    The UN Secretary-General had Kennedy’s support in formulating a plan to make the UN a central player in the sovereignty dispute over Netherlands New Guinea. From Kennedy’s perspective, Hammarskjöld was proposing a welcome initiative because it would preclude the inevitable criticism of the alternative decision Kennedy himself would be forced to make: that is, if the UN did not assume full responsibility for the Papuan people in the disputed territory of West New Guinea, then Kennedy would be forced to choose between Indonesia and the Netherlands. Hammarskjöld no doubt was aware there would be opposition to his planned intervention in the Dutch-Indonesian sovereignty dispute, not only from the two principal disputants, the Netherlands and Indonesia, but also from both the Soviet Union and China, both of whom supported Indonesia’s quest to expel Dutch colonial power from New Guinea. While it cannot be said that the UN Secretary-General or President Kennedy were oblivious to the personal and political risk they were taking in pursuing this approach to the New Guinea sovereignty issue, neither of them seemed fully aware of how high the stakes were; or rather, how high the stakes were for others who were involved – such as Allen Dulles. The battle for sovereignty of Netherlands New Guinea, from Dulles’ perspective, involved far more than the plight of the indigenous inhabitants: it had become a key issue in the struggle to ‘win’ Indonesia and so (by virtue of Indonesia’s internal politics centred on the PKI, and the offer of Soviet arms to oust Dutch colonial power) also an issue in the Sino-Soviet dispute. Papua, the PKI and Indonesia itself was all part of the ‘wedge between Moscow and Beijing’. Hammarskjöld’s radical initiative to reclaim Papua from past and future colonial rule – upgrading in the process the status of the UN to protect indigenous peoples – would have totally disrupted the Indonesia strategy of Allen Dulles.

    In terms of the totality of the disruption, both the UN Secretary- General and the US President were mostly oblivious to Dulles’ geopolitical machinations. The effect of Hammarskjöld’s plan bears a striking similarity to the effect which JFK’s planned visit to Jakarta would have had on Dulles’ Indonesia strategy. Because of this similarity, Dulles’ alleged involvement in the death of Hammarskjöld (through ‘Operation Celeste’) can be seen as a precedent for Dulles’ involvement in the death of Kennedy.

    OPEX

    Hammarskjöld’s planned intervention to settle the New Guinea dispute peacefully was following ‘unchartered UN guidelines’ but generally came within the ambit of the 1960 UN Declaration. This was a call for ‘the speedy and unconditional granting to all colonial peoples of the right of self-determination’. There were still 88 territories under colonialist administration waiting to become independent national states. Had the UN Secretary-General succeeded in bringing even half of these countries to independence, he would have transformed the UN into a significant world power and created a body of nations so large as to be a counterweight to those embroiled in the Cold War. Cameroon, for example, with a land area the same as West New Guinea, had formerly been under French and English administrations. In March 1961, the people of Cameroon conducted voting under the auspices of the United Nations Plebiscite Commissioner for Cameroons. The people of the Northern Cameroons decided to achieve independence by joining the independent Federation of Nigeria, whereas the people of the Southern Cameroons similarly decided to achieve independence by joining the independent Republic of Cameroon.

    Hammarskjöld was especially concerned about indigenous tribes- people. In the case of West New Guinea, Hammarskjöld’s intention was to declare both the Dutch and the Indonesian claims to sovereignty of the territory as invalid. He proposed to assist the Papuan people by declaring a role for the United Nations alongside an independent Papuan state, using UN officers to advise the main government departments. A United Nations Special Fund had been established, as he explained in an address to the Economic Club of New York on March 8, 1960, where he outlined this revolutionary approach already being implemented in some former colonial territories in Africa:

    We have recently initiated a scheme under the title of OPEX – an abbreviation of ‘operational and executive’ – whereby the UN provides experienced officers to underdeveloped countries, at their request, not as advisers, and not reporting to the UN, but as officials of the governments to which they have been assigned and with the full duties of loyal and confidential service to those governments. OPEX officials have already been requested by, and assigned to, several newly-independent countries, and I hope that we may be able to use the scheme much more widely in the years to come.

    As Williams has noted: ‘The activities of the UN in New York were vigorously scrutinised by the CIA’.41 Applying OPEX in West New Guinea, Hammarskjöld was threatening to take the territory and its natural resources out of the hands of all aspiring colonial powers and out of the hands of Rockefeller Oil which had first staked its claim before the Second World War. This solution to the sovereignty dispute was the antithesis of what Dulles had planned, using the Cold War to his advantage, by encouraging Jakarta to purchase Soviet armaments for the Indonesian Navy and Air Force. Hammarskjöld was constructing a solution for the Papuan people capable of withstanding Cold War pressure because he had Kennedy’s support.

    Criticism of Hammarskjöld came from both Cold War blocs. In the ensuing turmoil, both East and West seemed to have their own motives to ‘remove Hammarskjöld’. The CIA was working conjointly with British intelligence, according to the Celeste documents, a precursor of the joint force used to spark Malaysian Confrontation. Given the political situation in mineral rich Katanga, there was no shortage of mercenaries but the overriding motive was that ultimate responsibility for the (Irish) UN troops who were pitted against Katanga lay with the UN Secretary- General (rather than Conor Cruise O’Brien). The killing of Lumumba had already displayed a willingness to resort to murder and mayhem, and no doubt the radicalised mercenary element was capable of taking the life of the UN Secretary-General. Two mercenaries (according to the 2013 Commission Report) were at the Ndola airport in the group awaiting the arrival of Hammarskjöld on the night of the crash.

    However, the primary motive for Dulles’ participation was not the same as other participants in this tragic episode. His involvement in the assassination seemed driven by Cold War issues whereas the Belgian and British interests were more directly tied to the Katanga dispute. In the eyes of some, this may have added credibility to the secondary position Dulles seemed to adopt in ‘Operation Celeste’ – offering ‘…every possible support…’ but in reality Dulles’ motive to eliminate Hammarskjöld for interfering in the New Guinea dispute was far greater than any apparent motive Dulles may have had in the Congo. He was so far ahead of his contemporaries they did not suspect him of pushing a button, or causing a death, on one side of the world to benefit a covert strategy of his on the other side of the world.

    When I spoke with George Ivan Smith, he raised two important points which (in the context of ‘Operation Celeste’) now link Dulles to Ndola. The first (as mentioned above) was that Hammarskjöld was going to announce at the General Assembly in New York his solution to the West New Guinea sovereignty dispute; and secondly, there was a CIA plane full of communication equipment, its engines operating but stationary on the Ndola airstrip, the same night that Hammarskjöld’s plane was due to land. Two such planes had just arrived at Ndola but only one of these was operating on the night, its engines running to provide power for the communications equipment that the CIA personnel were using inside the plane. The Commission Report drew attention to the CIA communication planes:

    Also on the tarmac at Ndola on the night of 17 September were two USAF aircraft. Sir Brian Unwin’s recollection, in his evidence to the Commission, was that one had come in from Pretoria and one from Leopoldville, where they were under the command of the respective US defence or air attachés. Of these aircraft he said: ‘Those planes we understood had high powered communication equipment and it did occur to us to wonder later, whether there had been any contact between one or other of the two United States planes with Hammarskjöld’s aircraft, as they had, we understood, the capability to communicate with Hammarskjöld’s plane. …I do recall that when we saw these two planes on the ground we were … saying ‘Wonder what they’re up to’.

    One of the conclusions of the Commission Report was to seek the voice transmissions from the cockpit of the Albertina in the minute or so before the fatal crash. The CIA communications plane on Ndola airstrip, as shown above, had the capacity to communicate with the Albertina and may well have made a record of the final words coming from the Albertina. But given the level of involvement of Allen Dulles, it is highly unlikely that self-incriminating evidence would ever be made available.

    The Commission Report has drawn attention to several possible causes of the fatal crash – the presence of another plane that fired at Hammarskjöld’s DC6, the altimeters and a small explosive device to render the Albertina’s steering mechanism inoperable. It is possible (as mentioned above) that SAIMR tried to utilise all three. The Commission alluded to the possibility of igniting the explosive device by radio control, but it remained unclear whether this could have been done from another plane flying near the Albertina or from the Ndola airstrip.

    Earlier in his eight-year span as UN Secretary-General, during the McCarthy era, Hammarskjöld had forcefully evicted Hoover’s FBI men from the UN building, but in September 1961 the tables had turned and Hammarskjöld was ousted – by assassination.

    As a senator, Kennedy had first met UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld several years earlier, and as President-elect they met again to discuss the more urgent problems of the world. During 1961, Hammarskjöld’s proposed intervention in the New Guinea sovereignty dispute was the solution JFK preferred to solve an unwanted dilemma. OPEX implemented for the Papuan people meant Kennedy would not be forced to decide between supporting the colonial administration of a NATO ally or supporting the Indonesian administration over the Papuan people against the wishes of a NATO ally. With Hammarskjöld’s death, the pro-Papua plan was abandoned.42 So the Papuan people in the western half of New Guinea, who were on the verge of becoming an independent state under the auspices of the United Nations, were left hanging in history. Hammarskjöld’s death left Kennedy one of two options, the Dutch or the Indonesian, but Dulles’ preparation ensured Kennedy chose the latter.

    Hammarskjöld positioned himself (and the role of the UN) between or above the Cold War blocs. He intended implementing OPEX to resolve the New Guinea sovereignty dispute but did not take into account the extent of covert involvement by Standard Oil and Allen Dulles. At the funeral of Dag Hammarskjöld, September 29, Kennedy described him as ‘the greatest statesman of the 20th century’.

    Notes

    1. Howard Palfrey Jones, Indonesia: The Possible Dream, Gunung Agung, Singapore, 1980, p. 298. (First ed. 1971, Hoover Institution Publications).
    2. Nor were critics simply along East-West lines in the Cold War conflict, as Beijing fully supported Confrontation but Moscow did not. Continued hostilities delayed Indonesian elections which Moscow wanted in order to open the door to government for the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI). Moscow’s disapproval of Confrontation was strong but subdued to avoid Sino-Soviet rivalry which – as the PKI were already involved in Confrontation – would advantage only Beijing.
    3. Bradley R. Simpson, Economists with Guns, p. 98.
    4. Baskara T. Wardaya, SJ, Cold War Shadow – United States Policy toward Indonesia, 1953–1963, Galang Press, Yogyakarta. 2007, p. 377.
    5. Thomas Preston, The President and His Inner Circle Leadership Style and the Advisory Process in Foreign Policy Making, Columbia University Press, 2001, pp. 113–114.
    6. Bradley R. Simpson, Economists with Guns, Stanford University Press, 2008, p. 5.
    7. Simpson (p. 69) has incorporated quotations from the Memorandum of Discussion at the 410th Meeting of the NSC, Washington. FRUS, 1958–59, Vol. XVI, pp. 97–103.
    8. FRUS, Vol. XXIII, Southeast Asia, Doc. 155. ‘Memorandum from the Deputy Director for Plans, Central Intelligence Agency (Bissell) to the President’s Special Assistant for National Security Affairs (Bundy)’. Attachment ‘Indonesia Perspectives’, see paragraphs 9 & 10. https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/ frus1961-63v23/d155
    9. David Ransome, ‘The Berkeley Mafia and the Indonesian Massacre’, Ramparts 9, 1970, pp. 26-49.
    10. Howard Palfrey Jones, Indonesia: The Possible Dream, Gunung Agung, Singapore, 1971, p. 296.
    11. Personal correspondence with Dean Rusk when he was retired, at the School of Law, University of Georgia. This letter was signed January 8, 1992, although Rusk and I corresponded over a decade starting October 25, 1982.
    12. The electoral margin was 303–219.
    13. Theodore C. Sorensen, Kennedy, Harper & Row, NY, 1965, p. 197.
    14. Peter Grose, Gentleman Spy – The Life of Allen Dulles, Andre Deutsch, London, 1994, p. 288.
    15. Frederick Kempe suggests another reason (for Kennedy’s ‘unconventional decision’ to retain Allen Dulles and J. Edgar Hoover) was ‘perhaps to prevent release of damaging intelligence about his past’. Without supporting evidence and as the nature of the intelligence is not specified, one must assume this is conjecture. Frederick Kempe, Berlin 1961: Kennedy, Khrushchev, and the Most Dangerous Place on Earth, G.P. Putnam’s Sons, New York, 2011, p. 52.
    16. Sorensen, p. 230.
    17. Sorensen, p. 308. Subsequent assessment of the Bay of Pigs fiasco by General Maxwell Taylor concluded it was ‘militarily marginal’. The Taylor Committee (which included Admiral Arleigh Burke, Allen Dulles and Robert Kennedy) found that ‘the invasion plan had become quite specific well before the Kennedy administration took command’. Using only 1400 Cubans on the beachhead meant that ‘victory was never a possibility’. Providing US air support was tantamount to US invasion which Kennedy refused. The net outcome was heightened Cold War tension. From this perspective the Bay of Pigs, win or lose, was not averse to Dulles’ wider strategic interests.
    18. See note 15, p. 58.
    19. Grose, p. 341.
    20. John D. Rockefeller, Random Reminiscences of Men and Events, Doubleday, Doran & Co. Inc., Garden City, New York, 1937, p. 57.
    21. Nederlandsche Nieuw Guinea Petroleum Maatschappij, NNGPM was comprised of Royal Dutch Shell (40%), Standard Vacuum Oil and Standard Oil of California (60%).
    22. President John F. Kennedy’s address in the United Nations General Assembly, September 25, 1961, following the death (now deemed assassination) of UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld. http://www.state.gov/p/io/potusunga/ 207241.htm
    23. Audrey R. Kahin and George McT. Kahin, Subversion as Foreign Policy: The Secret Eisenhower and Dulles Debacle in Indonesia, The New Press, New York, 1995, p. 20.
    24. The Portuguese, who came mainly for spice and gold, used to delineate the (Indonesian) archipelago with a rhyming expression, ‘from the Nicobars to the Papuas’. The Nicobar Islands (now part of India) and the Andaman Islands were north-west of Sumatra, and south of Myanmar (Burma) in the Bay of Bengal. The Spice Islands were west of the ‘land of the Papuas’.
    25. Herbert Feith, The Decline of Constitutional Democracy in Indonesia, Cornell University Press, Ithaca and London, 1962, p. 104.
    26. Personal interviews in the house of Sunario, January 1988. See footnote 14, Chapter 1, Roeslan Abdulgani also referred to this source of US funding.
    27. Hansard Reports, 1957, p. 882.
    28. Kyle C. de Bouter, ‘Curbing Communism: American motivations for intervening militarily in Indonesia and Dutch Newspaper Representations, 1953–1957’. Erasmus School of History, Culture and Communication, Erasmus University Rotterdam, November 2013, p. 3.
    29. Howard Palfrey Jones, Indonesia: The Possible Dream, p. 71.
    30. Kissinger was involved with Allen Dulles and the Rockefeller Brothers Panel in the late 1950s investigating the Sino-Soviet dispute, and he helped formulate the goal to ‘drive a wedge between Moscow and Beijing’. He was on the Freeport McMoRan board 1988–95.
    31. Srodes, James, Allen Dulles — Master of Spies, Regnery Publishing, Washington DC, 1999, p. 6.
    32. US Senate, An Interim Report of the Select Committee to Study Governmental Operations with Respect to Intelligence Activities, ‘Alleged Assassination Plots Involving Foreign Leaders’, W.W. Norton & Co. Inc., N.Y. 1976, p. 24.
    33. See: United Nations General Assembly, Sixty-eighth Session A/68/800, 21 March 2014, Agenda item 175, ‘Investigation into the conditions and circumstances resulting in the tragic death of Dag Hammarskjöld and of the members of the party accompanying him’.
    34. He handed the originals over to the South African Minister of Justice, Dullah Omar, who commented no further on this matter before dying of cancer in 2004.
    35. Susan Williams, Who Killed Hammarskjöld? The UN, the Cold War and White Supremacy in Africa, Hurst & Co., London, 2011, p. 200.
    36. See: 1962 UN Crash Report (Appendix 1).
    37. See paragraph 6.5, 1962 UN Crash Report.
    38. George Ivan Smith (the ‘Ivan was short for Sullivan) came from Brisbane, my own home town, so part of our meetings involved some reminiscing. His brother was in charge of the Boggo Road Prison, which no longer operates, but the memory in silhouette of guards patrolling along the high imposing walls on Annerley Road was one of the more enduring images of my childhood. George Ivan Smith died in 1995.
    39. See: Robert Skidelsky, ‘Dag Hammarskjöld’s Assumptions and the Future of the UN’, http://www.skidelskyr.com/site/artic…sumptions-and- the-future-of-the-un/
    40. UN General Assembly, March 21, 2014, Sixty-eighth session, Agenda item 175, ‘Investigation into the conditions and circumstances resulting in the tragic death of Dag Hammarskjöld and of the members of the party accompanying him’. Annex: Report of the Commission of Enquiry, Paragraph 11.5.
    41. Declassified CIA document, ‘Memorandum for the Record. Subject: Information concerning the Accidental Death of Dag Hammarskjöld’, January 17, 1975, C00023116, DDRS, cited in Williams, Who Killed Hammarskjöld?, p. 151.
    42. In its wake came the ‘Luns Plan’, in which the Dutch Foreign Minister proposed a similarly prominent role for the UN but without the Dutch administration exiting, as envisaged by Hammarskjöld. According to the son of Joseph Luns, Huub Luns (whom I interviewed in Amsterdam) explained that before his father announced the ‘Luns Plan’ to the General Assembly, he knew it would not be approved. We may well ask: why, then, did he proceed?
  • Bridge of Spies: Spielberg and the Coen Brothers Punch Up History

    Bridge of Spies: Spielberg and the Coen Brothers Punch Up History


    The mythology about Rudolf Abel survived for decades on end.  It began when he was captured and then tried as a Russian espionage agent in a New York City court in 1957. The legend was furthered by not one, but two hearings before the Supreme Court concerning whether or not the arrest of Abel was done within the boundaries of a legal search and seizure.  It reached its apogee when President Kennedy approved an exchange of Abel for captured U-2 pilot Francis Gary Powers in 1962.  Abel’s American lawyer, a man named James B. Donovan, carried out that exchange in Germany.  In 1964, Donovan wrote a book on the Abel case and the later prisoner exchange.  Strangers on a Bridge became a national best seller. Now even more people were exposed to the Abel myth.

    What do I mean by the “Abel mythology?”  First off, there was no such Russian spy born with that name.  He borrowed that name from a deceased Russian colonel.  Abel’s real name was Willie Fisher.  And as one can guess by that moniker, he wasn’t Russian.  He was born in 1903 in Benwell, Newcastle upon Tyne, in the north of England.  When his family moved to Russia in the twenties, Fisher became a translator since he had an aptitude for language acquisition.  He later developed an affinity for electronics and radio operation.  And this was what the NKVD, precursor to the KGB, used him for during World War II.

    Another myth is that the FBI uncovered Fisher and then cracked the case. This is not at all accurate. Fisher was caught through the betrayal of his assistant. That assistant was named Reino Hayhanen.  Moscow had sent Hayhanen to help Fisher.  But Reino turned out to be a very bad assistant.  He was both a drunkard and a womanizer—he squandered some of the money given to him by Fisher on prostitutes.  When Fisher had had his fill of him, he sent Reino back to Russia.  Sensing that he would be disciplined upon his return, Hayhanen stopped at the American Embassy in Paris.  There he turned himself in as a Soviet spy.   And this is how Fisher was uncovered.

    A third myth is that he was a master spy, somewhat on the level of Kim Philby.  As several latter day commentators who have studied the Fisher case have concluded, there is simply nothing to even approximate such a lofty comparison. To use just one example: there is no evidence that, in the entire nine year period that Fisher was in America, he even recruited one agent, or source, on his own.  But further, once the KGB got the news of Hayhanen’s betrayal, Fisher had an opportunity to dispose of much of the incriminating evidence in his flat.  He did not.  But further, although he had used a false name with Hayhanen, he had taken him to his home. By casing the building, by following some of the residents who fit Reino’s description, and then snapping a picture of the man Hayhanen knew as “Mark,” this is how Fisher was caught.  Through his own carelessness and errors in tradecraft.

    Fisher’s cover while in the United States was that of a painter/photographer.  Steven Spielberg begins his film Bridge of Spies with a clever and adroit composition. The spy is painting a self-portrait in his studio.  Shooting from behind, we see then a dual image of the man: one in a mirror, and the other on the canvas–with the real subject in between, his back to us.  This makes not just for an interesting composition, but it’s a nice symbolic précis of who the man is.  We then watch as the FBI begins to follow Fisher around New York as he paints and takes photos.  They then break into his hotel room.  Fisher asks for permission to secure his palette of colors, and as he does he hides a coded message he had just secured from a drop point.

    From here, the film now cuts to the man who will be the main character, attorney James Donovan. Once Fisher was caught, the FBI had planned on deporting him, since he was in the country illegally under various aliases, and had not registered as a foreign national. Which is why the INS was in on the raid. They shipped him to a detention center in Texas.  There, they tried to turn him into a double agent.  (Donovan, Strangers on a Bridge, pgs. 16, 45)  Fisher turned down the offer.  Since the Bureau discovered so much incriminating material in both his hotel room and his apartment, they switched strategies.  Instead of deporting him, they now decided to place him on trial.  Which was a rather unusual decision.  Because, as Donovan wrote, there was no case he could find of a foreign spy being convicted of peacetime espionage. (Donovan, p. 19) The actual indictment contained three charges: 1.) Conspiracy to transmit atomic and military secrets to Russia; 2.) Conspiracy to gather classified government information; and 3.) Illegal residency in the U.S. as a foreign agent. (ibid, p. 20)

    The Brooklyn BAR association decided to ask Donovan to represent the defendant. (ibid, p. 9) Donovan was at this time, 1957, mainly an insurance lawyer. But he had worked for the OSS during the war, and was one of the lawyers at the Nuremburg trials.  Although the film only shows Donovan with one assistant, he actually had two. (Donovan, pgs. 34, 54) Some affluent law firms through the BAR furnished these.  To his and their credit, the local legal establishment was determined to give the spy a decent defense team.  (In a rather odd departure, the film does not portray Reino Hayhanen on screen.)

    Rather early in the case, Donovan discovered that his best hope in defending Fisher were problems with the original search and seizure.  Donovan concluded that this process was legally faulty due to the fact that the original strategy was to use the threat of deportation to turn Fisher.  In other words, the FBI wanted to keep the profile of the raid low, so that the KGB would not understand that they had turned Fisher into a double agent.  Therefore, they had not secured the properly designated warrants. But once they failed to turn the man, they now wished to prosecute him as if they had the proper warrants.   (Donovan, pgs. 109-110)

    The original trial judge would not accept Donovan’s motion to suppress evidence based on this issue.  If he had, the prosecution’s case would have been gravely weakened.  So once Fisher was convicted, Donovan raised the motion in an appeals court hearing. Once it was denied there, he went to the U.S. Supreme Court.   That court heard the case twice.  They eventually denied the appeal on a 5-4 vote.  The film does not include the original appeals court case. It then collapses the two Supreme Court hearings into one.

    Spielberg apparently wanted to cut down on these legal procedures to add more about Donovan’s family life, specifically under the pressures applied during the case; and also to make more screen time for the Gary Powers aspect of the story.  The assumptions being that the former will add more human interest for the audience; the latter more action and opportunity for visual imagery. But there ends up being a problem here.  For me, it’s at about these points that the film starts to slide off the rails as far as dramatic license goes.  For example, in his book, Donovan does note that he got some crank calls because of his defense of Fisher.  He then changed his phone number.  (Donovan, p. 50)  That wasn’t enough for Spielberg.  This gets changed to an actual shooting attempt on Donovan’s daughter as she is quietly watching television alone in the living room.  Now, I am sure if this had actually happened, Donovan would have written about it.  It probably would have been front-page news in New York. 

    This is paralleled by what Spielberg does with the shoot down of Powers over Russia in the U-2.  As Philip Kaufman proved  so memorably in his fine film, The Right Stuff, high altitude aviation can be viscerally exciting; it’s an excellent subject for cinematography.  But again, that in and of itself was apparently not enough for Spielberg.  After Powers ejects from his plane, we actually see him hanging onto the tail and working himself around to try and push the “Destruct” button on the front control panel. Which, of course, he fails to do.  Then as he parachutes downward, we watch as the plane actually brushes alongside his chute.  In no account I have read of this incident have I seen any of this mentioned.  Why was it necessary?  Powers had serious trouble ejecting anyway because he couldn’t separate from his oxygen tank. Secondly, one of the pursuing planes was shot down by friendly fire.

    I was kind of taken aback—again.  First, the CIA director does not represent the “highest levels” of government, at least not overtly.  But second, Dulles had left the CIA in November of 1961.  The new director was John McCone.

    But beyond that, there are two other aspects that the director and writers could have used for dramatic effect.  First, Lee Harvey Oswald was in the USSR at the time of the Powers shoot down. There are even some writers who think he may have been in the gallery during Powers’s trial.  Secondly, it was this incident that scuttled the Paris summit conference scheduled for just two weeks later. President Eisenhower tried to deny it happened.  But the Russians kept Powers confined and hid the wreckage that they found of the plane.  So Eisenhower was blindsided.

    From what I have been able to garner about the screenplay, it was originally written by Matt Charman.  Spielberg then brought in the Coen brothers  (Joel and Ethan) to, as they say, “punch it up.” To put it mildly, if I was doing an historical film, about the last writers I would bring in to “punch it up” would be the Coen brothers. 

    Because what I have mentioned above is just the beginning of the pushing the limits of dramatic license.  After the Supreme Court ruling went against Donovan, and Fisher started serving his sentence, the White House decided to seriously move for a prisoner exchange between the Russian spy and Powers.  Donovan writes about it in his book’s last chapter.  But he prefaces it with a warning that it was secret and he cannot reveal all of its elements.  (Donovan, p. 371)  But he does reveal two important things about the mission.  First, it began on January 11, 1962 when he attended a meeting in Washington with several other persons, including a Justice Department lawyer. (ibid, pgs. 373-75) Secondly, at this meeting, he was told that this prisoner exchange had been approved at the highest levels of the government.  Is that not kind of unambiguous?  The highest level of the government would be the White House, right?

    Again, this was not enough for Spielberg and the Coen brothers.  In the film, Donovan (played by Tom Hanks) goes to Washington to meet CIA Director Allen Dulles.  I was kind of taken aback—again.  First, the CIA director does not represent the “highest levels” of government, at least not overtly.  But second, Dulles had left the CIA in November of 1961.  The new director was John McCone.  As I said, Donovan’s book places this meeting two months after Kennedy had forced Dulles to resign.  Again, I don’t see what was gained by this.

    But during this meeting, Dulles tries to tell Donovan that he will be getting very little support on this mission.  He will be largely on his own.  This is not true even in the film’s terms.  But it is certainly not true according to Donovan’s book.  In the film, we watch as Hanks is escorted around West Germany by various American agents.  They give him a safe house and a phone number to call.  (The film actually has Donovan memorize this phone number when, in reality, he kept it on a card as he went to East Germany.) 

    In fact, in every step of Donovan’s trip—including the flight over on a MATS plane—he was escorted and assisted by American agents. The only part of his mission where he was alone was when he crossed over into East Germany. And that, of course, was pretty much unavoidable.  Again, in this aspect, we see Donovan spending  time in a holding cell at the hands of those brutal East Germans.  Not only did that not occur, but also the incident that causes it did not happen either (e.g., the Abel family lawyer Wolfgang Vogel, speeding at over a hundred miles per hour in his sports car).

    Let us close with three more points of divergence. The film makes much of the dealings between Donovan and the Russian Embassy official Ivan Schischkin, and the family lawyer, Vogel.  This is because Donovan wants to release both Abel and an American economics student imprisoned in East Germany, Frederic Pryor.  This led to a much longer mission than planned.  Two days stretched into over a week.   But this is not really accurate either.  For Donovan actually was trying to release three prisoners.  In addition to Pryor and Abel, he tried to release a man named Marvin Makinen.  At this he did not succeed.  But he did extract a promise that the Soviets would let him go later if super power relations improved.  They did, and in October of 1963, Makinen was freed.

    The film shows Donovan having his coat stolen from him under threat from a small gang of East German thugs.  Again, this is not in Donovan’s book.   The arrest of Frederic Pryor is made while the Berlin Wall is being constructed.  As Pryor later revealed, he was not even in Berlin when the wall was going up. (Click here for more from Pryor).

    I could go on further, but here is my question: Where are the history defiler zealots?  You know, those screaming  fanatics who come out of the woodwork whenever Oliver Stone makes a history film and uses elements of dramatic license?  This highly praised film got very little of that kind of criticism as far as I could see.  The Washington Post did allow David Talbot a brief column pointing out the Dulles fallacy and the actual primacy of President Kennedy over the mission. (See 10/28/15) But that was about it as far as I could tell.  I made this same distinction in my review of Clint Eastwood’s poor film J. Edgar. There really does seem to be a double standard for people in the club, and those not in the club—that is the Washington/Hollywood nexus.  It is a slice of pernicious hypocrisy that seems ingrained into our society.

    But let me add something here. In Oliver Stone’s case, he is working in fields in which there are many unknowns (e.g., the JFK assassination, Nixon and Watergate). In other words, he is pushing the envelope. I don’t think that applies in this case.

    As per the aesthetic elements of the film, Spielberg had a very long apprentice period as a director.  It was over ten years from when he began making his amateur films in Arizona until he made his first really well directed feature film, Close Encounter of the Third Kind. Since then, his films have generally been quite well made.  As noted above, he has a good pictorial eye, knows what he wants lighting wise, and his films are acutely edited.  As he himself has said, he doesn’t really have a directorial style.  He tries to serve the material at hand as well  as possible. And, most of the time, he does.  (Who can forget the disasters of Hook and 1941?)

    I have always thought Tom Hanks was a gifted comic actor. He proved that on television in Bosom Buddies, and then furthered that reputation in Splash. In comedy he has energy, timing, and technical command.  I have never been very much enamored of him outside of comedy.  And when he tried to really stretch himself in Road to Perdition, playing a heavy, he fell on his face. (Whereas Michael Caine, who also is good in comedy, pulled off a similar role quite well in Get Carter.)  Hanks is passable here.  He doesn’t really act.  He flexes certain aspects of his personality to fit the moment.  Sort of what someone like Gary Cooper would have done in the fifties, before the Actor’s Studio revolution took hold.

    On the other hand, British actor Mark Rylance as Fisher/Abel really does act.  It’s a subtle, understated performance.  One that is full of delicate secrets untold hidden inside the character.  From the start, Rylance is in that very low emotional register and he not only sustains it throughout, he manages to articulate the character without ever breaking out of that key.  It’s a union of both the British tradition of technical surety, combined with the American revolution of method acting.

    As I noted in my book Reclaiming Parkland, Hanks and Spielberg have definite ambitions in doing historical subjects.  They both fancy themselves amateur historians.  Their idol in the field was the late Stephen Ambrose.  Bridge of Spies is a well-made film.  I just wish it had dispensed with a lot of the dramatic license, which I do not think was really necessary. It would also be nice to see these two men do something a little gutsy concerning American history. Like what Jeremy Renner did with his film about Gary Webb, Kill the Messenger. But as I also showed in my book, because of personal reasons, that doesn’t seem possible. At least not right now.

  • Jeffrey H. Caufield, M. D., General Walker and the Murder of President Kennedy

    Jeffrey H. Caufield, M. D., General Walker and the Murder of President Kennedy


    Part One

    Before I begin reviewing Jeffrey Caufield’s very long book about General Edwin Walker and the Kennedy assassination, I think it’s necessary to make some general introductory comments about the volume. Not just because they are relevant to the book itself, but because they accent general tendencies in current JFK assassination tomes as a whole. I don’t consider any of these tendencies beneficial to the field. Therefore, it’s time to sound a warning alarm about them, before they become an incurable epidemic.

    1. Bigger does not mean better. In any field. Look what happened to the Titanic. How about the notorious movie bomb Heaven’s Gate? Do I even have to mention Vincent Bugliosi’s Reclaiming History? On the other hand, Jim Douglass’ book JFK and the Unspeakable contains less than four hundred pages of text. Caufield’s book is about twice as long. For what the author has to say about the JFK case, there is no way this book should have been anywhere near that verbose. Why Caufield did not hire a professional editor escapes me. The idea seems to be that if you make your book longer, somehow it’s better. Wrong. In this case, and many others, heading back to Lamar Waldron and Thom Hartmann, longer is not better: it’s just longer. And length for length’s sake translates into tedium for the reader. To make it even worse, Caufield is not a very good writer. So the tedium is accented further.
    2. Caufield also suffers from Philip Nelson Syndrome. As I mentioned in Part 2 of my discussion of James Fetzer, Nelson had a repeated pattern of trumpeting an upcoming section of his book as being startlingly significant, even mind-boggling. But upon examination, this did not turn out to be the case. Well, Caufield makes Nelson look like an amateur at self-inflation. No less than four times—probably more—Caufield trots out his cannon, lights it up, and screams about a bombshell that is about to explode. The problem is that, in each case, Caufield ends up resembling Charlie Chaplin. Recall the Tramp with his ears covered, when the cannon does not explode, and the cannonball only rolls out of the mouth of the cannon a few inches in front. Because the author had cried “Wolf!” so often, near the end of the book, I just started ignoring these advance warnings and yawned.
    3. Perhaps most importantly, either by accident or by design, Caufield worked in a cocoon. That is, he seemed to be unaware of many other developments in the field pertinent to the material in his inflated book. At times, this had a very serious impact – to the point that it rendered his own tenets and beliefs dubious. I really don’t understand how this happened. Did Caufield feel that what he was doing was more important than what anyone else was doing, and thus he could ignore it? Or did he just think that the state of the case did not merit checking in on any new discoveries? Whatever the excuse, it does not reflect well on the author.

    I

    Like several authors before him, including the late Harry Livingstone, Caufield’s book propagates a JFK conspiracy that was brought about by the Radical Right. In 2006, Livingstone published a book that has a similar title to this one: The Radical Right and the Murder of John F. Kennedy: Stunning Evidence in the Assassination of the President. (The subtitle to Caufield’s book is The Extensive New Evidence of a Radical-Right Conspiracy.) But this is not at all a recent concept. In fact, way back in1964, Thomas Buchanan’s Who Killed Kennedy? discussed such a scenario. And a few years later, James Hepburn’s mysterious tome Farewell America did the same. In the nineties, Jerry Rose, the former editor and publisher of The Third Decade, was also in this camp.

    The scenario has been revisited so often that, in his book Reclaiming History, Vincent Bugliosi set aside a separate section to discuss the topic. (see pp. 1260-72) And in that survey, he mentions many of the major groups and personages that Caufield talks about in his volume: the John Birch Society, the Klan, the H. L. Hunt network, General Walker and his sidekick Robert Surrey, and Georgia extremist Joseph Milteer. As we will see, Caufield is especially focused on Walker and Milteer.

    Caufield’s effort in the Radical Right field is distinguished by two characteristics. An obvious one is its length. He surpasses the long Livingstone book quite easily. Which, as noted, has little or nothing to do with quality. But secondly, and rather disturbingly, there is clearly a not-well-hidden agenda to the book. One that needs a bit of explaining to understand.

    Since about the late eighties, there has been a growing consensus in JFK critical studies that, of all the suspects in the case—the Mob, the military, the Secret Service, LBJ, the Radical Right, Cuban exiles—the one suspect that seemed necessary to include in any theory was the Central Intelligence Agency, for the simple reason that, the more one looked at Lee Harvey Oswald, the more his intelligence connections tended to stick out all over the place. Way back in the mid-seventies, Senator Richard Schweiker of the Church Committee said that Oswald had the fingerprints of intelligence all about him. (Henry Hurt, Reasonable Doubt, p. 192) In 1990, Philip Melanson published his revolutionary biography of Oswald, Spy Saga. This was the first full-scale portrait of Oswald’s role as a probable CIA agent provocateur.

    In 1991, when Oliver Stone’s film JFK was released, and the book on which it was based—Jim Garrison’s On the Trail of the Assassins—became a number one national best-seller, that consensus opinion became even more pronounced. In fact, at the conferences being held around this time, most of the attendees, and many of the panels, discussed the role of the CIA in the assassination.

    Caufield’s book, like Livingstone’s, and like Philip Nelson’s on LBJ, is a conscious reaction to this. He is out to demean and denigrate those who hold the opinion of CIA primacy in the Kennedy case; e.g., Jim Garrison or Oliver Stone. He does this almost right out of the chute. How? Caufield is going to argue that Oswald had no connection to Washington intelligence, or the CIA. He is going to argue something that, literally, I have never heard anyone seriously argue previously at any real length or depth. Please sit down. Caufield is going to argue that Oswald was a Nazi. (see pp. 75 ff.)

    Now, before we begin to analyze this unique and fantastic theorem, let us keep in mind the evidentiary axiom that applies in this type of situation: extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. If one is going to be a revisionist, one has to have the ammunition to do so. As far as I could see, Caufield provides three pieces of evidence for his “Oswald as a Nazi” hypothesis.

    The first is that Oswald had the name of Daniel Burros in his notebook. As labeled in Oswald’s notes, Burros was a member of the American Nazi Party. (p. 75) Please take note, because the following is going to be a constant refrain in Caufield’s book. The author will now write about four extraneous pages about Burros, which have no impact on whether or not Oswald actually knew him, or, more importantly, if Oswald was a Nazi. And, in fact, Caufield never demonstrates how, or if, the two men actually knew each other. There are many notations in Oswald’s 45 page notebook—both from Russia and the USA—for which, as Diane Holloway shows, there exists no evidence that Oswald ever knew the person or the agency, or firm. (see Appendix 3 of her book, The Mind of Oswald.)

    The second piece of evidence is a 12/16/63 FBI report. That report states that a bus driver named Muncy Perkins had observed people waiting in the morning for another bus driver named Ray Leahart at the Carrolton Avenue Station. Perkins “thought that possibly Lee Harvey Oswald may have been among” those people. (p. 79, italics added.) Need I even comment on this one? I italicized the two conditional qualifiers in the report. But as most of us know, Oswald did not have a car. He allegedly had a bus pass on him when he was apprehended. So what is the significance of Oswald possibly waiting in a crowd for a bus driver in the morning at the station? Especially if it may not even be Oswald?

    Do I need to add that Caufield now goes on for four pages on the ties of bus driver Leahart to the Nazi Party? Without ever demonstrating that Oswald actually knew the man?

    The third piece of evidence that the author advances in this regard is that Oswald demonstrated anti-Semitic and anti-Black attitudes. The evidence for this? Oswald used the term “nigger” in an interview with reporter Aline Mosby in Moscow. Secondly, he told Marina he did not want to name their child Rachel because it sounded too Jewish. (pp. 88-89) In Caufield’s judgment, this qualifies Oswald as a Nazi. I guess I was also since I used the “n” word as a youth growing up in Pennsylvania. By Caufield’s standard, one can imagine how many millions of prospective Nazis there were in the south in the fifties. So much for the author’s revisionist revolution.

    The above, in itself, is bad enough. But it is only half the story. Actually it’s less than that. The larger part is what Caufield leaves out of his portrait of Oswald. And this refers us to point number three from my introductory remarks: Caufield seems to be working in a cocoon, because the new material we have on Oswald since Melanson’s book was published makes for some of the most interesting and important information that has surfaced since the creation of the Assassination Records Review Board. With that information, the study of Oswald has bounced a quantum leap forward. For the author to leave all this information out, and then to write that a major problem with any CIA concept of the assassination is that Oswald had no demonstrable ties to the Agency – this is either written out of pure ignorance, or Caufield was deliberately rigging the deck to shortchange the reader. (see p. 47) And I actually don’t know which is worse.

    This reviewer incorporated much of this fascinating new Oswald information into the second edition of Destiny Betrayed. It takes up two lengthy chapters in that book, and many have stated it is one of the best parts of that volume. (see pp. 117-166) Those fifty pages constitute a mini-biography of Oswald, one that ends approximately at the time he returned to Dallas from his alleged trip to Mexico City. I won’t compare Caufield’s treatment of Oswald with mine in any systematic way. But I do wish to bring out certain key points that he either minimizes or eliminates.

    Caufield deals with Oswald in three major places in his book. In Chapter 1, entitled “Lee Harvey Oswald and Guy Banister”, he describes Oswald joining the military, serving in the Marines, and then defecting to Russia—an interval of about five years—in three sentences! This in a book that has 790 pages of text. Then, Caufield spends less than a paragraph on Oswald in Russia. (p. 33) In an astonishing exemption, at no point in the book does Caufield deal with the false defector program that Philip Melanson first outlined back in Spy Saga back in 1990. (Melanson, p. 25) Nor does he mention the name of Robert Webster, the suspected false defector that Marina Prusakova also met in Russia right before she met Oswald. (DiEugenio, pp. 139-40) By not mentioning Webster, he can ignore the incredible coincidence this represents.

    At this point in the book, Caufield also fails to mention the Russian test that Oswald took while in the military. He therefore avoids another compelling indication that Oswald was being groomed by the Office of Naval Intelligence for a CIA assignment as a false defector to Russia. Later on, when Caufield does mention this test, he deals with it in a remarkable manner. In his ongoing vendetta against Jim Garrison, he tries to weaken the former DA’s argument about Oswald getting training in the Russian language in the Marines. (see p. 227)

    He states that Garrison held that Oswald was being schooled in the Russian language in the service, but there is no evidence of this. Again, this is either symptomatic of Caufield working in a cocoon, or it is a deliberate omission, because over 25 years ago Melanson discussed in detail the report that the Warren Commission had about Oswald being instructed in language acquisition at the Monterey School of Languages while he was in the Marines. (Melanson, p. 12) Caufield then writes that although Oswald did take a Russian test, he did not do well on it. As Garrison noted in his book, this is what the Warren Commission witness said about it. (On the Trail of the Assassins, p. 23) To which Garrison replied: it would be like saying your dog is not very bright since you can beat him three games out of five in chess. But it also ignores the report of Rosaleen Quinn. Quinn was being tutored in Russian for a State Department position. She met with Oswald after his Russian test, and said that he now spoke excellent Russian. (DiEugenio, p. 131)

    The author then continues in his hopeless jihad by saying that once he arrived in Russia, Oswald did not speak the language very well. Which, from Quinn, we know is wrong. But it is further vitiated by author Ernst Titovets. In 2010, Titovets wrote a book called Oswald: Russian Episode. By all accounts, Titovets was Oswald’s closest friend in Russia. When I interviewed him in Washington at the AARC Conference in 2014, I asked him about Oswald’s Russian language skills. He told me that Oswald spoke Russian fluently. In the face of all this evidence, only someone with an agenda would argue the contrary.

    It will not surprise the reader to know that the names of John Hurt and Otto Otepka do not appear in this book. Hurt was the former military intelligence officer Oswald tried to call from jail on Saturday night, hours before he was shot by Jack Ruby. Otepka was the State Department employee who wrote a request to the CIA asking whether or not Oswald was a false defector. By not presenting any of this—and much more—or by distorting the parts you do present, then yep, one can say that Oswald was not connected to the CIA.

    Let me conclude this section of the review by noting a memo that Caufield repeats at least three times throughout the volume. (Repetition, and inclusion of extraneous material, are two methods by which Caufield inflates his page count.) The memo is from Hubert Badeaux, a New Orleans police intelligence officer, to state senator William Rainach (p. 273, 791) In this letter, the following two sentences appear in paragraph five:

    “I have been in contact with an out-of-town person whom I have been grooming to come here to take over the establishment of infiltration into the university and intellectual groups. I will tell you in detail about this when I see you in person.”

    Caufield actually tries to make the argument that Badeaux here is referring to Oswald. But Oswald was not out of town at the time, April of 1957. He was out of the state. He was in Jacksonville, Florida, being trained in avionics to become a radar operator. Five months later he would be out of the country and on another continent. He was shipped to the Far East, stationed at the giant CIA base at Atsugi, Japan, home of the U-2. Are we to think that both Badeaux—and Caufield—were unaware of this? Or that Badeaux did not know that Oswald had contracted with the service until December of 1959? Was Badeaux going to tell Rainach when he saw him that he had a prospect they had to wait for until 1960, over two and half years in the future, to cultivate? And then, in 1960, he would presumably tell the senator, well we have to wait another two and half years, since he’s going to Russia. But, hey Mr. Senator, that’s OK, because his fluency in Russian is going to help him infiltrate those integrationist groups in Louisiana, which used that language.

    This all strikes me as nonsense. It shows how desperate the author is to place Oswald in this rightwing milieu as an operative. Which parallels his desperation to make Oswald into a Nazi. But that doesn’t stop Caufield from going even further in this regard. He actually tries to say that state senator Rainach took his own life in January of 1978 because he may have feared having to testify before the HSCA! (Caufield, p. 697) If anyone can show me where there was any imminent move inside the HSCA to call Rainach as a witness, I would love to see it. I would be willing to wager that almost no one on the committee even knew who he was. And for good reason.

    To show just how confusing and muddled the plan of the book is, consider the following. On page 90 the author says that Oswald’s pose as a communist was not related to the murder of JFK, but to a segregationist plot, which was separate and distinct from the assassination plot. But by the end of the book, he switches this around. At the end, he now says that it was decided to use Oswald in the Dallas plot and eliminate him from the raid on the offices of the integrationist Southern Conference Educational Fund in New Orleans in October of 1963. (see pp. 778-79) And this dichotomy is not explained, or even acknowledged.

    II

    As bad as this book is in its portrayal of Oswald, it is almost as bad in its portrait of Jack Ruby. In fact, I actually think Caufield’s section on Ruby is one of the worst in the literature. Granted, there has not been the crush of new material on Ruby through the declassification process as there has been on Oswald. But still, Caufield makes do with what he has to foreshorten and distort matters.

    There is little or nothing in the book about Ruby’s extensive ties to the Dallas Police. Instead, at one point, Caufield recites the Warren Report version—via Police Chief Curry—that Ruby only knew perhaps 25-50 Dallas cops. (see p. 497) As Sylvia Meagher noted way back in 1967, this was a preposterous statement. Because, of the approximately 75 policemen who were in the police basement when Oswald was killed, Ruby knew at least forty of them. Applying that ratio to the entire force of 1,175 men, Ruby likely knew over 500 cops. And even that was conservative. Because as Ruby’s friend, boxer Reagan Turman noted to the FBI, “Ruby was acquainted with at least 75%, and probably 80% of the police officers on the Dallas Police Department.” (Meagher, Accessories After the Fact, p. 423) Caufield does cite a contradictory source on this, but his total dealings on the subject of Ruby and the DPD amount to one paragraph.

    Why is that important to note? It’s not just because of the extensive and deep ties to the force that Ruby had, but how these were used on the weekend of the assassination. Caufield all but eliminates the stalking of Oswald by Ruby – how Ruby almost staked out the station that weekend – that is, the visits by Ruby to the station in the late afternoon on Friday, and then on Saturday, and then early Sunday morning. (Meagher, pp. 435-41)

    This might be part of an architectural design. Such is suggested by the fact that, on Sunday morning, before the murder of Oswald, Caufield has Ruby walking up to Main Street from the Western Union office and then entering the police basement from that ramp. (Caufield, p. 508) In other words, it happened just like in the Warren Report.

    If there is one thing we know today about Jack Ruby’s wild weekend, it is this: He did not enter the police basement through the Main Street ramp. The Dallas Police had tried to conceal a prime witness to this event from the Warren Commission. His name was Sgt. Don Flusche. Flusche was standing diagonally across from the Main Street ramp, leaning against his car to watch the transfer of Oswald to the county jail. Flusche knew Ruby. He told the House Select Committee on Assassinations (HSCA) there was no doubt in his mind “that Ruby did not walk down the ramp, and further, did not walk down Main Street anywhere near the ramp.” (James DiEugenio, Reclaiming Parkland, pp. 203-04)

    What makes this even more convincing is that policeman Roy Vaughn, who stood guard over the ramp, also said Ruby did not come in that way. He passed his polygraph test. (Meagher, p. 407) Yet the two policemen, who many suspect—including the HSCA—of helping Ruby into the building from a rear door, did not do well on their tests. William Harrison, who Ruby can be seen hiding behind before Oswald entered the corridor to the parking lot, took tranquilizers to disguise his reactions to the polygraph. Consequently, his test turned out inconclusive. Patrick Dean, the officer in charge of security for the Oswald transfer, failed his test—even though he wrote his own questions! (DiEugenio, Reclaiming Parkland, p. 205) During the HSCA investigation, Dean repeatedly failed to respond to a summons for a deposition or to even reply to written questions. (ibid) Remarkably, none of this key information is in this book. Rather, Caufield uses Dean as a witness against Ruby (see pp. 508-09) – without adding that the HSCA felt that Dean was a key figure in the shooting. (op. cit. DiEugenio, p. 205)

    What about Ruby’s links to organized crime? Whereas some authors have spent large parts of entire books on the subject, Caufield deals with these in about a page. (see pp. 498-99) In his hands, they mean little or nothing. In fact, what he does with this is say that if New Orleans mobster Carlos Marcello had anything to do with the assassination, because he was a racist, it was probably by association with rightwing extremists. And herein lies one of the most unbelievable tales in this unbelievable book.

    Caufield states Jim Braden had an office in the Pere Marquette Building in New Orleans. G. Wray Gill, an attorney who David Ferrie did some work for, also had an office in that building. Braden was a former east coast criminal who was out on parole and was now in the oil business. Gill was one of several lawyers that Marcello employed. Caufield tries to make something out of the Pere Marquette connection. And the fact that Braden had a visit with Lamar Hunt scheduled while he was in Dallas the weekend of the assassination.

    To a leaping exegete like Caufield, “this is evidence of conspiracy between the Hunts, Braden, and Milteer…” (Caufield, p. 303) To the not-so-leaping, as with the Badeaux memo, it was another Chaplinesque cannon moment. Recall, the tramp loads up the cannon, he lights the fuse, he plugs his ears: but the cannon does not go off, while the cannonball rolls out a few inches from the mouth of the cannon.

    First of all, if Caufield had read Bill Kelly’s fine work on Braden, he would know that Braden did not actually have an office at the Pere Marquette Building. A man he worked with, oil geologist Vernon Main, had an office in that rather large office building. (Kelly, JFK Countercoup, post of 12/19/09) Braden had a legitimate reason to be in Dallas and talking to Hunt. He owned two oil companies, and his partner, Roger Bowman, lived in Dallas. Braden told his parole officer about his business trip and checked in with the probation office in Dallas on November 21st. He was actually part of a group of five men who were proceeding to Houston on more oil business after they met with Hunt. (ibid) As Kelly notes, Braden said he did not know Gill.

    How does Caufield fit Milteer into his Pere Marquette circle of conspiracy? He says that the business card of G. Wray Gill’s son was in Milteer’s belongings when he died. I’m not kidding; this is what he says constitutes “evidence of conspiracy”. (Caufield, pp. 302-04)

    As the reader can see, there is no connection between Milteer and Ruby. Therefore, Caulfield has to double down on anything connecting Walker and Ruby. And now comes a very odd dichotomy in this chapter. The sole witness that Caufield produces as to a Ruby/Walker nexus is a man named William Duff, a temporary personal employee of Walker. As the author notes, Duff’s testimony on this point is erratic. In his first interview with the FBI, in January of 1964, Duff said he was certain that he had never seen Ruby before the murder of Oswald. Ten weeks later, in April, he reversed field. He now said that he had seen Ruby at Walker’s 3-4 times, from December of 1962 to March of 1963. (Caufield, p. 394) But then one month later, in June of 1964, Duff reverted back to his original story: he had never seen Ruby before the murder of Oswald. (Caufield, p. 396; see also Michael Benson, Who’s Who in the JFK Assassination, p. 118)

    In addition to the inconsistency, the other problem is that there is no corroboration for Duff’s seeing Ruby at Walker’s home. Walker was not exactly a private person, and he lived next door to a church. If Ruby had been at his home 3-4 times, why would no one else have recalled it?

    The other way that Caufield tries to connect Ruby with Walker is through Ruby’s visiting the “Impeach Earl Warren” sign and taking a photograph of it. This was on the weekend of the assassination. Finally, Ruby also had copies of the “Welcome Mr. Kennedy” newspaper ad, and a copy of a transcript of one of H. L. Hunt’s Life Line radio scripts in his trunk. He picked up the former at the newspaper office he ran ads at, and the latter was picked up at a Texas Products convention Ruby attended weeks previously.

    So Caufield has a problem. He hasn’t successfully connected Ruby with Milteer or Walker. What he is left with is the stuff in Ruby’s trunk at the time of the assassination. Remember the old saying? If you have a lemon, make lemonade. So the ever inventive author now writes that the stuff in the trunk indicates that Ruby knew who was behind the plot to kill Kennedy and he was trying to point in that direction. You can read this for yourself on page 503. The obvious question is: Why would he do that if he was part of a Radical Right conspiracy? Straddling a giant crevice with both legs, Caufield never explains the mystery.

    But none of the lacunae, pretentiousness, and utter vapidity described above stops Caufield from plunging even further into the wilderness. In the autumn of 1966, Jack Ruby was granted a new trial, in a new venue. Before being transferred to the new locale, it was noted by the outside authorities that Ruby was clearly ill. The transfer was postponed, and Ruby was transported to Parkland Hospital. He was diagnosed with pneumonia, and cancer in both lungs. After Ruby was hospitalized, Walker wrote a letter to Billy James Hargis of the Christian Crusade, with whom he had done various speaking engagements. In this letter he said that Ruby was allegedly dying of cancer and might talk, and he would probably not leave the hospital alive. (Caufield, p. 538)

    This gives the author a pretense for another cannonball moment. He calls this letter “astonishing”. He then shifts into fourth gear: “It is inconceivable that Walker meant anything in the message to Hargis other than he would murder Ruby before he allowed him to leave the hospital… .” (ibid)

    Even for Caufield, this one was the equivalent of self-herniation. What person would not suspect that, with cancer in both lungs and pneumonia, Ruby was in very bad shape? Did Caufield never hear of Dr. Louis J. West? The infamous CIA MK/Ultra doctor who once killed an elephant with an overdose of LSD? (Benson, p. 475) He was treating Ruby in jail. Does Caufield think he was giving him vitamin C and B complex? Many authors have concluded that Ruby’s case was likely one of induced cancer. (Which, after a review of the scientific literature, author Ed Haslam has said was possible at that time.) As for fearing Ruby would talk, well Ruby did talk. FBI asset Lawrence Schiller did an interview with Ruby before he died. During which Ruby denied being part of a conspiracy. I would say that there must have been literally scores—maybe hundreds—of people who were movers and shakers in Dallas-Fort Worth who predicted that Ruby would die in the hospital and could talk before that. But since Jolly had treated him extensively, and by all accounts, Ruby was becoming delusional, there was really not much to fear. Needless to say, because of his cocoon, West’s name is not in the book.

    III

    As the reader can see, in regards to Oswald and Ruby, this book is pretty much empty. But before we get to the actual genesis of the volume, we should deal a bit more with Caufield’s treatment of the alleged assassin, for the simple reason that the author makes some rather extraordinary claims about Oswald and the Walker shooting, and Oswald’s role in the assassination.

    Concerning the former, Caufield pretty much buys the Warren Commission case about Oswald firing a shot at Walker. He says that Marina Oswald took the notorious Backyard Photographs of Oswald with rifle and handgun. (see p. 382) He writes that the shooting was done with a Mannlicher Carcano rifle ordered by Oswald. He says that Oswald took photos of the outside of Walker’s house on March 10, 1963. (ibid) He even writes that Oswald sent a backyard photo to the staff of The Militant. (Caufield, p. 386) He then adds that it is unfortunate that the left-leaning publication disposed of it, because had they not, then Oswald probably would have been caught and the case against him in the Walker shooting would have been air-tight. His thesis is that Oswald did this as part of a publicity stunt for Walker (even though he has not established any credible connection between Oswald and Walker).

    This last reference, about Oswald sending the backyard photo to The Militant, is footnoted to Dick Russell’s book, The Man Who Knew too Much. But I could not find the information there. And Caufield does not supply a page number to that reference. The usual source for that information about The Militant is to Gus Russo and his book Live by the Sword. Fortunately for us—unfortunately for Caufield—Jeff Carter exploded this myth in his masterful treatment of the Backyard Photographs for CTKA. In Part Four of that series, at footnote 25, Carter notes that the publisher of The Militant brought all exhibits concerning communications between Oswald and the SWP [Socialist Workers’ Party], the paper’s close affiliate, to his Warren Commission appearance. These exhibits were then placed in evidence. He did not bring that photo.

    As per Oswald ordering the rifle used in the Walker shooting, this whole issue has been pretty much torn asunder by the latest work on the subject by John Armstrong. To put it lightly: with the state of the evidence today, it is highly unlikely that Oswald ever ordered that rifle. Each link in the transaction’s chain—both in the mailing of the coupon and the retrieving of the rifle—has been rendered dubious.

    Caufield also writes that when the Warren Commission tested the bullet fragments from Walker’s house, they matched the physical characteristics of the bullets used in the Kennedy assassination. (Caufield, p. 392) I have no idea what the author is talking about here. And he does not footnote that sentence. If he is talking about any spectrographic or neutron activation analysis done for the Commission by the FBI, that whole chemical process has been forensically discredited. If he is talking about the lands, grooves and twists to the bullet markings, then he appears to have fallen for another crock delivered by the FBI. For the great majority of rifles have a four groove, right-hand twist. (Jim DiEugenio, Reclaiming Parkland, p. 80)

    Then there is the problem of the actual caliber and color of the bullet recovered from the Walker home. As anyone who knows anything about this case understands, the alleged rifle in this case used Western Cartridge Company’s copper jacketed military style ammunition. The evidence states that this was not the bullet fired into the Walker residence. As Gerald McKnight notes in his fine section on the Walker shooting in Breach of Trust, the police always referred to the Walker bullet as being a steel-jacketed, 30.06 projectile. (McKnight, p. 49) And in the report filed by the investigating officers they refer to the bullet as being steel-jacketed. (John Armstrong, Harvey and Lee, p. 507) Both local papers and an Associated Press story referred to the bullet as being a 30.06. (Reclaiming Parkland, p. 76) It was only after the assassination—almost 8 months later—that the Walker projectile was changed to match Oswald’s alleged rifle. Yet none of the officers who originally identified the slug were called to testify before the Warren Commission. (ibid)

    But further, as has since been discovered, in a March 27, 1964 FBI memo, the Bureau admitted that the lead alloy of the bullet recovered from the Walker shooting was different from the lead alloy of a large fragment recovered from the Kennedy limousine. Two FBI agents, Henry Heilberger and John Gallagher, did the tests on the bullets for the FBI. The Commission never called Heilberger, and Gallagher was not asked about this matter. (ibid, p. 77) Based upon these fundamental forensic matters, which he ignores, I don’t know how on earth Caufield can write that “The evidence presented here overwhelmingly suggests that Walker and Oswald were working together.” (p. 398) To put it mildly: unless Oswald had another 30.06 rifle, no it does not.

    Let us now turn to Caufield’s portrait of Oswald in the Kennedy assassination. Even though he has not proven his thesis about the Walker shooting, Caufield tries to use the same paradigm for Oswald and the Kennedy assassination, namely, that Oswald was some kind of willing participant. Consider this statement: “Oswald expected to be arrested after the assassination, just as he had in the Walker shooting incident.” (see pp. 467-68) He then writes this howler: “Oswald ran for his life when he discerned from those around him that the president had been shot.” (ibid, p. 468)

    The Warren Report—which Caufield trusts more than he does not—states that when Oswald first learned of the assassination, instead of running toward the closer back door, he used the more distant and dangerous exit: the main door on Elm Street. This is where the police and the public had mostly gathered. But he first dispensed a bottle of soda and then walked across the second floor. He then walked down the stairs and out the front exit, but stopping to give some directions to a pay phone to two reporters. (op. cit. Reclaiming Parkland, p. 99) Oswald then walked down Elm Street to catch a bus, which was headed in the wrong direction from his rooming house. So he had to get off the bus. He then walked back to the Greyhound Bus Terminal and tried to find a cab. All of this took at least ten minutes. (WR, p. 160) He then hailed a taxi and got in. However, when an elderly lady peered in the window, and asked for a ride, Oswald was ready to get out. But she said it was all right, she could get another taxi. (ibid, p. 162)

    As Sylvia Meagher later wrote—perhaps tongue in cheek: “It is increasingly difficult to reconcile Oswald’s demeanor with what the Commission calls ‘escape’. Whaley [the taxi driver], testified to the ‘slow way’ Oswald had walked up to the taxi, saying, ‘he didn’t talk. He wasn’t in any hurry. He wasn’t nervous or anything.’” (Meagher, p. 83) So how do his acts and demeanor constitute “running for your life”?

    In a smugly self-fulfilling way, Caufield then writes that the only scenario which explains Oswald’s behavior that day was that he was supposed to shoot but miss. Hence, that someone else would actually kill Kennedy. And Oswald would only go to jail for just a few days. He says that since both weapons used—the handgun for the Tippit slaying and the rifle for the assassination—had been rechambered, it would have been hard to convict Oswald. (He is wrong about the latter point. Mannlicher Carcano expert Robert Prudhomme informed me by e-mail that both versions of the MC rifle, the 6.5 and 7.35 mm, had the same chamber, but the larger caliber rifle used a modified type of ammunition.)

    He then writes something that is a bit shocking: “Oswald deliberately left his own traceable rifle on the sixth floor for it to be discovered and traced to him, which was another scripted act that supports the postulated shoot-and—miss scenario.” (Caufield p. 469) To go into all the arguments that undermine this would take an essay in itself. But just to mention one: in addition to the strong indications he did not order the rifle, there is also the evidence that the disassembled rifle could not fit into the bag that Oswald carried to work that day. (Meagher, pp. 54-57)

    Just when I thought this whole wild and woolly tangent could not get any worse, it did. Like the Warren Commission, Caufield actually uses the testimony of Charles Givens to place Oswald on the sixth floor. Let us be candid: Givens was a damned liar. His WR testimony about coming down the elevator to the first floor, realizing he left his cigarettes on the sixth floor, then going back up and seeing Oswald there at about 11:55, having a brief conversation with him in which Oswald said he was not going down right now—this is all perjury. Givens never went back upstairs, and Oswald was downstairs before 11:55. It has been proven false by writers like Sylvia Meagher, Pat Speer, and Gil Jesus. With the Commission’s own sworn testimony from Givens, Gil shows that, in his first story to the FBI, Givens himself said that he saw Oswald downstairs reading a newspaper in the domino room at 11:50. The Commission let Givens deny this under oath. In other words, they suborned perjury.

    Can Caufield really not be aware of this? I mean, Meagher’s classic essay, “The Curious Testimony of Mr. Givens“, has been around for 45 years. It was published in The Texas Observer, it has been collected in anthologies, and anyone with a computer can find it online. Again, I don’t know what is worse; for if Caufield did not know about this issue, that is a bit scary for someone who says he has been on the case for over 20 years. The other alternative is that he did know, but this is how much he is wedded to his bizarre theory. If it’s the latter, then a legitimate question arises: How does his handling of evidence significantly differ from that of the Warren Commission?

    Caufield then tops this off by saying that, after Givens’ phony sighting, Oswald was not seen on the lower floors until after the assassination. (Caufield, p. 473) He therefore writes off Carolyn Arnold, who says she saw him on the second floor at about 12:15, maybe even later. (op. cit. Benson, p. 17) Like the Warren Report, Caufield’s index shares the dubious distinction of not containing an entry for Carolyn Arnold’s name.

    Neither does it have one for Victoria Adams. Recall, Barry Ernest’s book on Adams—The Girl on the Stairs—has been out since at least 2011. She and her friend Sandy Styles ran down the depository stairs just seconds after the last shot. They neither heard nor saw Oswald. Which, in Caufield’s case, they would have had to, because the author also buys into the Patrolman Marrion Baker/Oswald meeting at the second floor soda machine right after the assassination. (Caufield, p. 474) Oblivious to new developments in the case, Caufield never mentions the differences between the Warren Report version of this incident and Baker’s first day affidavit, where the whole thing goes unmentioned. (DiEugenio, Reclaiming Parkland, pp. 192-96)

    The scary thing is I could go on further in this regard; but I will stop there for a brief evaluation. For if one demonstrates all the lies in Givens’ testimony; if one then includes Carolyn Arnold’s FBI report; the evidence of both Adams and Styles; and finally Baker’s first day affidavit, then how is Oswald on the sixth floor at 12:30? The unexpurgated facts will simply not support Caufield’s bizarre thesis.

    By now, the reader will not at all be surprised when I note that Caufield writes that Oswald likely murdered J. D. Tippit—who probably had it coming to him since he was one of the assassins in Dealey Plaza—and he was going to kill Officer Nick McDonald at the Texas Theater. (see pp. 479, 481, 483) That’s quite a sentence is it not? But this is what happens when one is religiously wedded to a theory, has no real editor to advise him, and apparently feels like he does not have to keep up on the recent discoveries in the case.

    Since Caufield’s book is almost 800 pages long, it necessitates a second part to this review.


    Part Two

    IV

    Caufield’s book would likely not exist if it were not for the well-known, and often written about, Somersett/Milteer tape. (click here for a transcript) William Somersett was a local police informant from Miami. He was then used for a while by the FBI. In November of 1963 he was visited by the peripatetic Joseph Milteer. Milteer was a rightwing extremist who was part of the National States Rights party, the Congress of Freedom, and the White Citizen’s Council of Atlanta. This tape has been written about for years by many authors; e.g., Robert Groden, Anthony Summers, Henry Hurt. Among other mainstream media reports, the tape was extensively excerpted and discussed in an article by reporter Dan Christensen in the September 1976 issue of Miami Magazine.

    Caufield presents this as a central part of his rightwing plot: that Milteer was saying these things because he had a hand in setting up Kennedy’s assassination. (Caufield, p. 108) Let us first make this comment: as many have observed, Kennedy’s murder was probably the most predicted large event in modern American history. There were many persons—both men and women—who seemed to have had advance knowledge it would occur. There have been essays written about that particular subject, and seminar talks delivered on it. To mention just one example: Mark North wrote a whole book about it, Act of Treason, based upon such a prediction from the Mafia angle. Todd Elliot wrote a small book on the Rose Cheramie case, A Rose by Many other Names. In David Scheim’s book, Contract on America, he makes much of the Jose Aleman quote about Santo Trafficante saying words to the effect: Kennedy is going to be hit, he is going to get what’s coming to him. This only scratches the surface; there are several more of course.

    Caufield reprints the Milteer/Somersett transcript at great length. Rereading it, I noted some things that I had overlooked previously. First, Milteer offers the information about killing Kennedy from an office building with a high-powered rifle only after Somersett actually solicits it from him. (Caufield, p. 103) Milteer then says Kennedy has as many as fifteen doubles on duty to mask where he really is. (ibid) No information has ever been revealed about this in the last 53 years, so it is evidently not the case.

    Milteer then offers up an actual assassin, Jack Brown, a Klansman from Tennessee. Again, in 53 years, no one has ever even mentioned Brown as a suspect in the JFK case, let alone an assassin. (And, as we shall see, Brown differs from the assassins named by Somersett himself in a different rightwing milieu.) Also, when Milteer talks about the assassin carrying a broken down weapon to avoid the Secret Service, he is talking about the shooting taking place from a hotel room across the street from a White House veranda in Washington. (ibid, p.104) Caufield actually argues for the accuracy of this by saying that the Warren Commission deduced that Oswald had broken down the rifle used in the assassination before he brought it into the depository. (ibid, p. 108)

    Somersett also said that when he saw Milteer afterwards, he told him that the patriots had outsmarted the communists because they had infiltrated Oswald’s group, the FPCC. (Caufield, p. 114) This statement creates problems for the author, because 1) Oswald was the only member of the Fair Play for Cuba Committee in New Orleans, so there was no group to infiltrate; and 2) How could Milteer have outsmarted the communists if Oswald was not a communist? Caufield himself has argued that Oswald was not a real communist. Realizing this reveals that Milteer really did not know what was going on, and was garnering information from the newspapers, he claims that Somersett must have misconstrued what Milteer had said to him.

    Caufield wants the reader to believe that Milteer was in Dallas on the day of the assassination. That is putting it too lightly. Caufield demands the reader buy into this—almost as if his life depends on it. I cannot help but wonder, thinking logically, why this would be the case, if he was a central part of a conspiracy. Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to avoid being there, knowing there would be many Kodaks, Polaroids, and movie cameras on hand? The House Select Committee on Assassinations (HSCA) looked into this. In a photo taken by James Altgens, as Kennedy’s limousine heads down Houston Street, Robert Groden pointed to a man whom he thought resembled Milteer. The height analysis done by the HSCA is problematic. But the other two comments they make seem genuine. Milteer had a remarkably full head of hair in 1963. This was not at all the case with the man in the photo. Second, Milteer had a thin upper lip; the man in the photo had a full, thick upper lip. (HSCA, Vol. 6, p. 247)

    The other main point Caufield makes about Milteer being in Dallas is that Somersett said he told him about this afterwards. But the problem here is that this was not on tape. It was simply stated by Somersett that Milteer had called him from Dallas. (Caufield, p. 127) It was first presented years after the fact. Somersett first said it to reporter Bill Barry of the Miami News, and then attorney Bud Fensterwald, who was moonlighting for New Orleans DA Jim Garrison. (Caufield, p. 126, Garrison memo of 6/5/68) Yet, opposed to this is a report given to the Miami Police on November 26, 1963. There, Somersett makes no mention of such a call from Dallas, even though he was asked if Milteer had been there recently.

    This brings up the issue of Somersett’s reliability. And whether or not Milteer knew that Somersett was an informant. These are important issues that Caufield does not really deal with in any substantive way. For the FBI eventually dropped Somersett from its informant rolls. Chapter six of this book is entitled, “Joseph Milteer and the Congress of Freedom, New Orleans, 1963”. Somersett reported that at this conference, held in April, there was a large—and I mean large—assassination plot discussed. Targets included Averill Harriman, wealthy Jews at Wall Street firms like Lehman Brothers, Goldman Sachs, and Kuhn and Loeb. Others on the list were the heads of major American corporations like GE, Kroger, and Boeing. Also targeted was the Business Advisory Council, the Bilderberger Group and the Council on Foreign Relations. Caufield writes that President Kennedy was a member of the last. (p. 143)

    At this point, any reader should have some real trepidation about not just Somersett, but Caufield. First, Kennedy was never part of the CFR. And all one has to do is read the best book ever written on the subject to know that. It is called Imperial Brain Trust, by Laurence Shoup and William Minter. (see p. 247) But beyond that, does Caufield know how many people such a plot would entail? One would need a calculator to add up the number. It would be well into the thousands. Way beyond even what Hitler did during the Night of the Long Knives. Further, how could one find out who was Jewish and who was not in all those Wall Street firms? Were they going to line them up against a wall, pull out their wallets, and if the name sounded Jewish, shoot them firing squad style? And after several hours of this, going from building to building, neither the police nor FBI would be aware of all the noise, blood and dead bodies piling up on the street?

    Even the Miami Police had a hard time with this one. They asked Somersett if he really believed they were going to kill all those people. The informer stood by what he said. (Caufield, p. 144) (In my notes I wrote, “Caufield is destroying Somersett’s credibility.)

    And it was here that Somersett first said that a man named Ted Jackman was also an assassin in Dealey Plaza. (In addition to the aforementioned J. D. Tippit.) He later added a man named R. E. Davis. Davis was 73 years old in 1963. Back then the life expectancy for a male was 66. If we translated Davis’ age to today, with life expectancy much longer, he would be 80 in 1963. Hopefully Milteer was giving him his arthritis pills regularly.

    As author Larry Hancock conveyed to me, and as various FBI and Secret Service memos relate, from about 1962 onward, Somersett’s reliability became more and more questionable. Hancock co-wrote a book with Stu Wexler on the rightwing in relation to the Martin Luther King case. So they looked at various documents concerning Somersett. Hancock said that, at first, when Somersett was informing on local rightwing bomb throwers in Miami, he was well regarded. But as time went on, he began to spread himself out and attend many conventions. At this point, he started reporting “literally all the gossip he heard anywhere.” As a result, the FBI got tired of following up bad leads. Also, as time went on, his information was mostly in the form of hearsay not directly tied to an original source.

    Later, he was found out as an informant. In 1962, National States Rights Party Chairman J. B. Stoner wrote to some of his cohorts that Somersett was a likely snitch. Somersett now became a channel to supply false leads through and he eventually became a liability. By 1964, Somersett was being used as a conduit for a combination of good info mixed with bad. As Hancock noted to me, Milteer and Stoner were close associates. (e-mails from Hancock to the reviewer dated 2/25 and 2/26/16)

    V

    Loran Hall is notorious for, among other things, his alleged association with the Sylvia Odio episode. As everyone recalls, Odio was the daughter of Amador Odio, a Castro foe who was imprisoned on the Isle of Pines off the coast of Cuba. She was living in the Dallas/Fort Worth area at the time of the assassination. Three men visited her in late September of 1963. She said one was a caucasian who was called Leon Oswald. The other two appeared to be Cubans, who used the war names of Angelo and Leopoldo. They came from New Orleans for the ostensible reason that they wanted information about raising money for the Cuban exile cause. Since Odio did not recognize them as members of her exile group JURE, she did not cooperate.

    But two days later Leopoldo called back and made some memorable comments about Leon Oswald. In fact, he first asked Odio what she thought of him. She said, since he said so little, she really did not know. Leopoldo then took the lead in making an indelible impression on Odio about who Oswald was. He said that Oswald felt the Cubans should have knocked off Kennedy after the Bay of Pigs, but they did not have the guts; that Oswald was an ex-Marine sharpshooter and a little crazy, so they were going to cut off ties to him. (James DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed, Second Edition, p. 351)

    As is depicted in the record, Odio’s story was so credible, and had so much corroboration, that the FBI did its best to ignore it. But once the Warren Commission found out about it, they felt they had to deal with it. So her deposition was taken in Dallas by junior counsel Wesley Liebeler. Odio stuck by her original story. Chief Counsel J. Lee Rankin now became worried about the significant impact of Odio’s compelling testimony. After all, it looked like some element of the Cuban exile community was traveling with Oswald seven weeks before the assassination. And they were trying to make an impression on Odio that Oswald was going to kill Kennedy. And that she would then be a witness to this when it happened. So Rankin sent a memo to FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover saying that Odio’s allegations had to be proved or disproved. Consequently, Hoover concocted a completely false scenario about Hall, William Seymour and Laurence Howard being at Odio’s door. (ibid, p. 352)

    Before we look at what Caufield does with this, let us take note of something that is important to his allegations about it, but which he does not mention. Writers like Jim Douglass have noted that, after the Cuban Missile Crisis, President Kennedy began to cut back significantly on the funds he allowed the CIA to tender to the exile groups, to the point that if they did not find alternative funding elsewhere, many of them would have folded. (ibid, pp. 69-76) Therefore, former Agency affiliated soldiers of fortune, like Hall and Howard—who were part of the CIA associated group Interpen with Frank Sturgis and Gerry Hemming—began to solicit funds from people who would be interested in keeping the battle against Castro in play. Some of these sources were from California, like members of the Minutemen; some were from Texas, like oil man Lester Logue, who Hall later said was interested in funding a plot against Kennedy, an offer which Hall turned down. (see Caufield, pp. 445, 46)

    Since Hall said he met with Walker once, and because some of the Texas people he met with knew Walker, this gives Caufield another “Chaplin’s cannon” opportunity. He now says that, because of his meetings with these Texas people, Hall’s false claim of being at Odio’s was given at the request of Walker’s group in order to conceal the validity of Odio’s allegations. (p. 446)

    Again, I have never seen this anywhere. Let us examine it. Caufield says that there is no evidentiary trail to trace how the FBI got to Hall, Seymour and Howard in the first place. That might be true, but it is fairly obvious that Hoover was looking for someone in the anti-Castro underground who was traveling in Texas at around the time of the Odio incident, which was late September of 1963. Both Hall and Howard were Hispanic, and Seymour was Caucasian, so there was a superficial match to the Odio story. In addition, Hall had been to Dallas twice that fall. He had been arrested for possession of drugs (actually pep pills). And he had met with both an FBI agent, and a CIA agent while he was incarcerated. (Hall’s HSCA deposition of 10/5/77, pp. 123-24) He had also been involved with the preparations for the infamous Bayo-Pawley raid into Cuba which had CIA support. (ibid, pp. 114-119) Therefore, it is rather easy to see how the FBI would have known about him.

    Very significantly, Caufield also ignores the above-cited HSCA executive session testimony of Hall on the subject. (HSCA Vol. 10, p. 19) Dated October 5, 1977, it is quite revealing of what actually happened in this whole affair. Hall said that the FBI visited him in the autumn of 1964. The agent asked him if he recalled a Mrs. Odio. Hall said he did not. He did recall a male professor with the last name of Odio. Hall said it was possible he may have visited the woman but he did not recall it. He further said that he asked the agent for a photo of Sylvia Odio, but he did not have one! Further, when he was in Dallas in September of 1963, he was with Howard, but not Seymour. Hall testified under oath that he never told the FBI that he was in Dallas with Howard and Seymour. He then said the FBI report that the HSCA gave to him was simply false and contradictory as to what happened when he was interviewed in 1964.

    In other words, the idea that Caufield is conveying, about somehow Walker’s group being involved in Hall’s perjury for the FBI, is simply not supported by the record. For if one looks at the testimony by Howard and Seymour, they back up Hall. What becomes clear from Gaeton Fonzi’s fine work on this topic—both for the Church Committee and the HSCA—is that the Warren Commission and the FBI cooperated in an effort to try to undermine Odio’s fascinating evidence. And we have this from the direct testimony of the people involved: Odio, Hall, Seymour, and Howard. This effort went as far as Wesley Liebeler telling Odio that he had orders from Chief Justice Earl Warren to cover up any leads indicating a conspiracy, and then trying to seduce the woman in his hotel room. (DiEugenio, p. 352) Again, why Caufield would ignore all of this direct evidence, and instead make another of his unjustified and unsound leaps is quite puzzling.

    VI

    Another unusual treatment of a Cuban exile figure by the author is the case of Carlos Bringuier. Bringuier was a member of the DRE, clearly a CIA-backed Cuban exile organization that, as John Newman discovered, actually originated in Cuba. Once transferred to America, it gained a CIA subsidy, and was also a tool of conservative activist Clare Booth Luce, wife of magazine magnate Henry Luce. As author Jefferson Morley has shown, there seems to have been an attempt made to conceal from the HSCA how close the DRE was involved in the cover-up of President Kennedy’s death. Because in the last year of that investigation, the CIA liaison for this aspect of their inquiry—and also Mexico City—was one George Joannides. Joannides was a specialist in CIA psywar operations. And he was the funding officer in 1963 for Bringuier’s DRE branch in New Orleans, as well as other branches. The amount he disbursed was 51,000 dollars per month. This program was codenamed AMSPELL. The DRE had relations with Oswald in the summer of 1963 in New Orleans. As most of us know, this resulted in a confrontation on Canal Street, where Bringuier threw some punches at Oswald.

    Immediately after the assassination, the DRE circulated stories throughout the media saying that Oswald was a supporter of Fidel Castro. These stories got into major newspapers like the Washington Post. Castro denounced these reports as being the work of the CIA. It appears he was correct, since Bringuier and the DRE were being paid by the CIA at the time. When the HSCA inquired into the DRE, the CIA’s liaison, Joannides, never revealed that he was their handler in 1963. (click here for more on this) This is a live story since author Jefferson Morley has a lawsuit ongoing against the CIA to find out more about Joannides and his secret association with the DRE. The Agency is mightily resisting this attempt at full disclosure.

    By now, the reader will not be surprised when I tell him that Caufield does not mention Luce, AMSPELL, Joannides or Morley in his discussion of Bringuier and the DRE. As with Hall, and others, he tries to divorce Bringuier and the DRE as much as possible from the CIA. He does the same with Ed Butler, who along with Bringuier, also participated in a debate with Oswald that came about as a result of the Canal Street altercation, and the subsequent arrest, detention, and fine lowered on Oswald. According to Caufield, Bringuier is connected to rightwing publisher Kent Courtney and Butler to private investigator Guy Bannister. As shown above, with Bringuier, this is simply not at all the full story.

    As per Butler, by about 1960, he was friends with CIA agent Clay Shaw and wealthy conservative New Orleans doctor Alton Ochsner, who was a cleared CIA source since 1955. (click here for the evidence of that)

    In that year, Butler dropped out of public relations and became a Cold War propagandist in New Orleans. He had the backing of people like Ochsner and Shaw. In fact, one of the groups he was associated with, the Free Voice of Latin America, was housed in Shaw’s International Trade Mart. His association with Ochsner led to the formation of INCA, a propaganda mill that distributed something called Truth Tapes throughout the Western Hemisphere. As New Orleans scholar and historian Arthur Carpenter wrote, at this time, Butler established relations with Deputy CIA Director Charles Cabell, and legendary CIA covert officer Ed Lansdale. (see Carpenter’s essay, “Social Origins of anti-Communism: The Information Council of the Americas”, in Louisiana History, Spring 1989) Lansdale helped him get access to Cuban refugees who were featured on these tapes. The CIA circulated these tapes to about 50 stations throughout South America, with the help of Miami CIA station chief Ted Shackley and also Howard Hunt—working under an assumed name. (click here for a bio of Butler)

    William Stuckey, host of the Oswald debate, called Washington and got information from the FBI about Oswald’s earlier defection and return to America. Stuckey, Butler and Bringuier then used this information to ambush Oswald during the debate. After the assassination, tapes of the studio confrontation were televised by CBS before Oswald was even charged with the murder of Kennedy. Like the DRE, Butler and INCA now churned out press releases the night of the assassination to blame the murder of Kennedy on Oswald and the communists.

    Butler then got in contact with Senator Thomas Dodd, a conservative Democrat who opposed Kennedy. Dodd invited Butler to testify before his Senate Internal Security Subcommittee about Oswald. A couple of days later Butler turned over his Oswald tapes to the then number three man in the FBI, William Sullivan. (e-mail communication with Bill Simpich) As the CIA admitted in a 1966 memo uncovered by Simpich, Butler was a very cooperative source for them through their New Orleans field office. Butler also informed on Jim Garrison to the Agency with information garnered from Bringuier through his friend Alberto Fowler.

    Virtually none of this information on Butler is in Caufield’s book. I could easily do the same with the author’s treatments of both Guy Bannister and Gordon Novel. But I should mention one other (lesser known) person in this regard. On page 642 of Caufield’s book, he describes a memo written to Banister from one Edward Hunter. It is relevant to mention the subject of the memo. Hunter told Banister he was interested in finding out what kind of literature a college student would pick up in a library if he were interested in learning about communism. Hunter was writing a book on the subject and wanted to do an experiment.

    Garrison commented on this memo by writing in the margin that Hunter was probably an agent. Caufield uses this to unload on Garrison by denying this was the case; and that Hunter was associated with those on the radical right; and that this shows how contrived Garrison’s case against the CIA really was.

    Recall, Hunter wanted to do an experiment. Does that not suggest that he was involved with some type of social science endeavors? So although Hunter knew some members of the radical right, all one has to do is look at Chapter 8 of John Marks’ classic book on MK/Ultra, The Search for the Manchurian Candidate. There, one will read that Edward Hunter was “a CIA propaganda operator who worked under cover as a journalist…” Marks interviewed Hunter a few times before he passed away. Hunter wrote articles and books on mind control. (see Marks, chapter 8) Are we really to believe that Caufield never bothered to look that up before he wrote his arrogant insult about Garrison?

    VII

    That provides for a neat segue into some of the matters dealing with both Garrison and New Orleans, and also Caufield’s treatment of where Walker was during the assassination.

    To show the reader how careless Caufield is, and how in need of an editor he was, he writes that Garrison’s 1979 book on the case was called On the Trail of the Assassins. (see p. 203) Garrison did not write a book in 1979. His first non-fiction book was A Heritage of Stone, which was published in 1970. His second book was a novel called The Star Spangled Contract, which was released in 1976. He then wrote his memoir about his JFK inquiry, On the Trail of the Assassins, in 1988. This mistake is symptomatic of the author’s entire treatment of the DA.

    The author titles this section of his book, “Three Versions of the Jim Garrison Case”. For his purposes, these are represented by: 1) Garrison’s case against Clay Shaw; 2) the DA’s 1967 Playboy interview, and his book On the Trail of the Assassins; and 3) the evidence as presented in Garrison’s files. Let us deal with these in order.

    In his discussion of Shaw’s trial, Caufield literally sounds like James Phelan or Paul Hoch. He says that it soon unraveled and ended in complete disgrace. (p. 199) A few pages later he then adds that Garrison’s case was poor and the DA was thoroughly discredited. (p. 203) He then throws this in: “It is entirely possible that Clay Shaw may have been set up as a straw man to deflect attention away from the significant evidence of Oswald’s ties to the Bannister operation.” (ibid)

    To anyone familiar with the Garrison inquiry, this is simply ridiculous. Garrison began his field investigation of the JFK case with his discovery of the address of 544 Camp Street on one of Oswald’s pamphlets. That led him to Guy Bannister’s office housed at that address. He then started to interview anyone he could find to give him information about who was at that address in the summer of 1963. On his memos, when he discovers that, say, Kerry Thornley was there, he writes things like, “part of the Bannister menagerie”. It took him months to tease out all the ramifications of this important find. For example, when Jack Martin told him that Sergio Arcacha Smith was at the address, Garrison asked him, “Who was that?” So the idea that Garrison ignored the Bannister operation is simply malarkey. It was the first important stepping-stone he crossed. The problem was that, when Garrison discovered this in 1966, both Oswald and Bannister were dead, and this seriously hindered the presentation of any of this evidence at the trial of Clay Shaw.

    Secondly, it is obviously true that the DA lost the case against Shaw in court. But Caufield leaves out two important matters here that have been elucidated by dozens of ARRB releases. First, that Shaw clearly committed perjury numerous times at his trial, and that Shaw’s lawyers cooperated in an extraordinary ex parte scheme to get Garrison’s subsequent perjury case into the court of Judge Herbert Christenberry, a dear friend of Shaw’s. (DiEugenio, pp. 313-15) And, contra to the spirit of the law, that case was switched to Christenberry’s federal court. In an extraordinary hearing, at which Christenberry made Garrison the defendant, the case was thrown out without being decided on its merits. For during a three day hearing, none of Garrison’s perjury witnesses testified. (ibid, pp. 315-16)

    But further, in his discussion of the Shaw case, Caufield does not address the issue of blatant and extensive CIA interference with Garrison’s prosecution—and to a lesser extent, the role of the FBI and Justice Department. Of course, this would attenuate his polemical theses that Garrison had no case against the Agency. For if he didn’t, why would they go to such enormous lengths to short-circuit him? That effort included Allen Dulles recruiting Gordon Novel to wire Garrison’s office, (ibid, pp. 232-33) and the CIA paying Novel’s attorneys so he would not have to be returned to New Orleans after Garrison discovered he was an Agency plant in his midst. (ibid, pp. 262-64)

    The revelations of the ARRB have been extremely powerful in this regard. The CIA sent infiltrators into Garrison’s office in 1966, almost as soon as he started his inquiry. (ibid, pp. 226-35) They then cooperated with Walter Sheridan, a former National Security Agency officer, to bribe and threaten witnesses not to testify for Garrison. (ibid, pp. 237-43) When Garrison still struggled on, the CIA set up a Garrison Group at Langley at the request of Richard Helms because, as officer Ray Rocca stated, if they did not, Shaw would likely be convicted. (ibid, pp. 269-71) Part of that effort included interfering with the legal process by working with judges and DA’s to prevent witnesses from being served by Garrison’s subpoenas, and also to talk witnesses out of their stories. (ibid, pp. 271-78)

    In the face of all this, for Caufield to simply say that Garrison’s case was discredited, a disgrace, and so forth—this simply doesn’t cut it anymore. There was way more to it than that. In many ways, the disgrace was what happened to Garrison both during the trial and after. Caufield deals with none of this in his 790-page book. Not one sentence.

    Quite the contrary. Caufield even echoes the cover story the CIA furnished about Clay Shaw to the HSCA: namely, that Shaw was simply a businessman informing about his travels abroad to the Agency’s Domestic Contacts Service, just like tens of thousands of other businessmen. Again, this reflects Caufield hibernating in his cocoon. (p. 579) Bill Davy first exploded this cover-up in 1999, in his book Let Justice Be Done. Declassified documents of the ARRB had revealed that Shaw had a covert security clearance. (Davy, p. 195) As former CIA employee Victor Marchetti told Davy, one doesn’t need such a clearance for the Domestic Contacts Service. Davy also discovered that Shaw’s Y file had been destroyed. (ibid, p. 200)

    Joan Mellen then dug deeper into the Agency cover-up about this issue. She discovered a document from the CIA’s Historical Review program that named Shaw as a highly compensated contract agent. According to Mellen, that historical review operation was eliminated after this document was released. The document was reprinted in her book about George DeMohrenschildt, Our Man In Haiti. That book was published back in 2012. In other words, Shaw lied about this issue, his employment by the CIA, at his trial. The HSCA covered up for him, and Caufield repeats that camouflage, years after it has been exposed as such.

    Caufield then discusses the version of Garrison’s case as presented in his Playboy interview and in his book On the Trail of the Assassins. He says what Garrison was portraying here was a multi-agency theory of the crime which included the Office of Naval Intelligence, the FBI, the CIA, the Secret Service and NASA. Since this was unwieldy, Garrison later winnowed it down to the CIA. Caufield then concludes that, contrary to this theory, none “of the proposed key members of the plot were affiliated with the government or the CIA.” (p. 203) As I have just demonstrated, he makes this argument work by eliminating declassified information about Clay Shaw and the CIA. Another way he makes it work is by maintaining his peculiar myth that Guy Banister was not involved with the Agency. Even though there is evidence that CIA officer and prime suspect in the JFK murder David Phillips was in his office trying to promote a TV telethon to benefit local Cuban exiles. (Davy, pp. 22-24) Even though David Ferrie’s raid on an arms bunker in Houma, Louisiana, transported weapons back to Banister’s office, and those weapons were then used at the Bay of Pigs. (ibid, pp. 25-26) Caufield actually depicts Garrison saying that this arms bunker raid was the most patriotic burglary in history. Except Garrison did not say this. Gordon Novel, who was there, said it. (James DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed, First Edition, p. 136) Moreover, Novel said he was told to participate in the arms transfer by his CIA handler. (ibid)

    In further relation to Banister and the CIA, Joe Newbrough, who worked in Banister’s office, said that his boss was a conduit for Agency funds to the Cuban training camps. (Davy, p. 20) As HSCA Deputy Counsel Bob Tanenbaum recalled, he saw a film of Banister, Phillips and Oswald at one of these camps. (ibid, p. 30) David Ferrie was a trainer at a Bay of Pigs preparation camp at Belle Chasse Naval Station. And that camp was completely Agency operated. We know this because, in a CIA review, David Phillips admitted to it in his own handwriting. (Davy, p. 31) We also know that Ferrie participated in Operation Mongoose, because he told a business associate about it. Ferrie tried to get his godson Morris Brownlee to join the Agency. Ferrie recommended it because of his own long association with the enterprise. (ibid, p. 28)

    In other words, contrary to what Caufield writes, all three of Garrison’s chief suspects—Shaw, Banister, Ferrie—had definite ties to the Central Intelligence Agency.

    VIII

    Let us now turn to Caufield’s so-called “third version” of Garrison’s case, the one that is revealed in the DA’s files. Caufield writes that those files reveal virtually no evidence of U. S. government involvement, but they are filled with evidence of a radical right plot. (Caufield, p. 203) Let me reveal my involvement with how the author came to write that sentence. Back in the nineties, I visited with Caufield at his home on the outskirts of Cleveland. I had met him at a JFK conference, and he had subscribed to Probe. Later, Lyon Garrison, Jim Garrison’s son, wrote me a letter saying he was going to let me copy what he had left of his father’s files. I told Caufield about it, and he joined a few of us in the Crescent City as we copied as many of the files we could at a Kinko’s center. We couldn’t copy them all. So Caufield took some of these home with him and then mailed them back. I was the only one who had all of what Lyon gave to us.

    But that does not constitute all of what was left of Garrison’s files. As this reviewer told the ARRB, the HSCA found out that Harry Connick, the then DA of New Orleans, had one cabinet of Garrison’s files sitting in his office. The ARRB got into a legal struggle with Connick, which they eventually won and they secured those files. (James DiEugenio, Reclaiming Parkland, p. 147) In addition to that, there are files that Garrison left with his driver, Steve Bordelon, when he left the DA’s office. As Garrison wrote his book editor Zach Sklar, these were somehow misplaced and lost. There were also files Garrison left at the AARC that also went missing. Harry Connick admitted to incinerating some files, and there were files that were stolen by infiltrators in Garrison’s office, e.g., Bill Boxley aka William Wood. (ibid, p. 149)

    So here is my question: How in God’s name can Caufield make any kind of judgment on what was in Garrison’s files from his tiny sample? I would say that what we have today is maybe 40-45% of what an intact collection of those files would be. And that figure is being liberal. What Caufield had would be perhaps 10 per cent of that, and that is probably too high an estimate.

    Now, there is no doubt that there was evidence of rightwing involvement in some of Garrisons’ files. But to write that 1) Garrison ignored this, and 2) there was no evidence of U. S. government involvement, this is simply not supportable. Let us begin with the latter.

    Bill Davy’s fine book about Jim Garrison, which postulates a CIA conspiracy, literally has dozens of source notes attributed to Garrison’s files. My book, the second edition of Destiny Betrayed—which also agrees that thesis—has even more. There are whole areas of the JFK case that began with material dug up by Jim Garrison’s investigators and indicate a CIA connection. For example, Oswald’s function as a low level intelligence agent, the Rose Cheramie angle, the remarkable Freeport Sulphur connection, Gary Underhill’s death, the startling evidence of Richard Case Nagell (who Garrison once referred to as the best witness in the case), Sergio Arcacha Smith and his alleged maps of Dealey Plaza left in his apartment in Dallas, Bernardo DeTorres and his pictures taken in Dealey Plaza during Kennedy’s assassination.

    I could go on and on, but let us just mention a May 24, 1967, Garrison memo that focuses on the connections of the CIA station in New Orleans to the local law firm of Monroe and Lemann. The DA discovered that Monte Lemann, a former partner in the firm, was a CIA counsel who exercised control over who the local station chief would be. Steve Lemann, another partner, handled certain clandestine payments by the CIA locally. This included funds to certain defendants and witnesses in the Clay Shaw case. Which—to anyone but Caufield—would be a CIA connection to the case. But that is not the capper. In the memo, it is stated that Monte Lemann had approval over the appointment of the former chief of the New Orleans station, one William Burke. With an arrow pointing to Burke’s name, Garrison scrawled across the margin of the memo the following: “Had lunch reportedly with Andy Anderson recently.” This is startling. Why? Because if it’s the same Andy Anderson, he was the CIA officer who, according to John Newman, first debriefed Oswald upon his return from Russia. But that was not revealed until Newman found the memo in 1993 for the PBS documentary Who was Lee Harvey Oswald? How on earth did Garrison know about Anderson 27 years earlier?

    To me, there is more solid evidence concerning a conspiracy in just the few areas I have mentioned above than there is in all 790 pages of Caufield’s text, with its recurrent “Chaplin’s cannon” syndrome. But again, if you don’t tell the reader about it, then you can claim there is nothing there.

    IX

    Contrary to what Caufield writes, Garrison did not stop investigating leads that pertained to the radical right in the Kennedy assassination in February of 1967. The quandary he had was the same one Caufield has in his book: ultimately, they did not pan out. And also, in the case of Farewell America—which propagates such a scenario—that 1968 volume turned out to be a “black book”, i.e., an Agency creation. (DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed, Second Edition, pp. 281-84)

    Then there was the whole Edgar Eugene Bradley fiasco. Bradley was a member of the radical right, working for Carl McIntire, the president of the American Council of Christian Churches. Caufield writes about this episode as if it were something that Garrison did not investigate enough, some kind of blown opportunity. Thus was not the case. Since Bradley lived in California, the case was worked on by the late William Turner and, strangely enough, Bill Boxley, who was supposedly renting an apartment in New Orleans. During one of Garrison’s trips to California, these two men had convinced the DA to sign an arrest warrant for Bradley—which, unfortunately, Garrison did. But Governor Ronald Reagan had refused to sign the extradition papers.

    In February of 1968, with the controversy in the papers, members of the DA’s legal staff finally interviewed Bill Turner about the Bradley case. It turned out that they really did not have any legal jurisdiction to bring a case against the man. Whatever case there was against him was based in California. As revealed by his files, Garrison extensively interviewed Bradley after this review. (Probe, Vol. 3, No. 6, p. 19) And he came to the same conclusion. As researcher Larry Haapenen told this reviewer, the witnesses in the Bradley affair were simply not very good. In fact, one can make a case that this was fueled by some internecine rivalry in the ranks of the radical right. The ultimate effect of the Bradley episode is that it gave Garrison another black eye in the press, and it began to create dissension inside the volunteer ranks of those in Garrison’s office. Some people now became suspicious of Boxley, and to a lesser degree Turner. The former merited such suspicion since he was undoubtedly a CIA agent in Garrison’s office. Which does not stop Caufield from actually using him in his book as if he were a credible investigator. (Jim DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed, Second Edition, pp. 280-85)

    What Caufield does with the whole Clinton-Jackson incident is, even for him, a bit surprising. These witnesses were first presented to the public at Clay Shaw’s trial in early 1969. There has been an unfinished documentary made about them called Rough Side of the Mountain (which this reviewer has seen twice). They were interviewed by the HSCA, and one of them, Sheriff John Manchester, testified in executive session. Jim Garrison depicted the incident concisely in his book, On the Trail of the Assassins. (see pages 105-09) But since the declassification process of the ARRB, there has been much more documentation available on the episode; both the Garrison memoranda, and the HSCA interviews are now available. Plus, William Davy, myself, and Joan Mellen all went to the area and interviewed the surviving witnesses and some of their offspring.

    Briefly, this is what happened. Shaw and Ferrie drove with Oswald to East Feliciana Parish, a bit over a hundred miles northeast of New Orleans. Oswald first appeared in Jackson, which is a few miles east of Clinton, the county seat. He struck up a conversation with local barber, Ed McGehee. Oswald seemed to be looking for a job at the state hospital in Jackson. So McGehee referred him to Reeves Morgan, the state representative. Oswald saw Morgan at his home and he told Oswald he would have a better chance if he was registered to vote. The next day Oswald appeared in Clinton with Shaw and Ferrie to register. Unbeknownst to them, the civil rights group CORE had arranged a voter rally that day. Therefore, literally scores of African-Americans were signing up to vote. Oswald, Shaw and Ferrie stood out like sore thumbs. But when Oswald talked to voter registrar Henry Palmer, he was told he did not have to register to apply for a job at Jackson. So the trio left and Oswald went to the hospital to file an application.

    Caufield wants to make the whole episode an instance of Oswald “infiltrating” CORE. But why would they have to travel that far away to do such a thing? And, in the process, risk exposing Shaw and Ferrie? For in New Orleans—contrary to what Caufield writes on page 676—there was a CORE boycott action going on in the fall of 1963. (click here for the proof)

    Ignoring that, the author ridicules the idea that the visit ended up at the hospital. Yet, upon Oswald’s first appearance, he was asking McGehee about a job at the hospital. (Davy, p. 102) This is how he ended up at Reeves Morgan’s. And it was Morgan who referred him to the voter registrar’s office in order to sign up so he could have a better chance for a job there. (ibid) If Oswald had not gotten that (incorrect) advice, he would not have been at the CORE rally. The idea that Shaw, Ferrie and Oswald wanted to be seen by scores of people during a civil rights voter registration drive in the summer of 1963 does not make a lot of sense to me—or to anyone, I think. Also, I don’t know how one can say that standing in line for a voter sign-up constitutes a case of “infiltration” of the Congress of Racial Equality. At one point, Caufield even describes Garrison’s idea that the aim of the excursion was to get Oswald’s files into the mental hospital as “ludicrous”.

    The problem with these cheap polemics is that they amount to nothing but empty rhetoric. Because whatever argumentative technique Caufield wants to use—and he avails himself of several—Oswald did end up at the hospital. There are four witnesses who saw him there. And Maxine Kemp—who worked in the personnel department—actually saw Oswald’s application. (Davy, p. 104) Furthermore, contrary to what the author maintains, the FBI did know about Oswald’s presence there, and sent an agent to the hospital. (Joan Mellen, A Farewell to Justice, p. 234)

    In an evidentiary point completely distorted by Caufield, Oswald knew the names of at least one—perhaps two—of the doctors at the hospital. Caufield writes that Palmer forgot the name of the doctor Oswald named. (Caufield, p. 661) Not accurate. When Palmer asked him where he lived, Oswald lied and said he lived at or near the hospital. Palmer tested him and asked him to name a doctor there. Obviously prepared for this question, Oswald did know the name of a doctor there. And Palmer recalled it as Dr. Person. (DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed, Second Edition, p. 91; Davy, p. 106) When the HSCA got a list of doctors residing at the hospital at that time, Person’s name was on it. In the face of these facts, it is both perverse and nonsensical to deny that the ultimate destination of the excursion was the hospital.

    Caufield also writes that Palmer asked someone to check the ID on the driver of the Cadillac. (see page 661) Again, this is not accurate. Palmer specifically asked Sheriff John Manchester to check the ID of the driver of the car. (Davy, p. 105) Manchester did do that. And in an executive session of the HSCA, Manchester testified that the driver’s name was Clay Shaw, which matched his driver’s license. Caufield then writes that when Manchester reported back to Palmer, and Palmer asked him what the car was doing there, Manchester replied, “Trying to sell bananas I guess.” (ibid, p. 106) That is true, but Caufield tries to make this into a racial slur on the voter drive. Not the case. Manchester got the info that Shaw worked at the International Trade Mart when he talked to him. And that is very likely what he was referring to.

    But Caufield is still not satisfied. He repeats the charge—more than once—that these witnesses were lying. I awaited his attempt to demonstrate how this was so. But he simply does not lay a glove on the actual activities that were reported in the (probable) two day visit by the trio. In fact, he even adds a witness to the episode, storeowner Thomas Williams. (p. 661) Since he cannot mount a frontal attack, he questions some of the background material. He says that, unlike what he maintained, Henry Palmer could not have known Banister in the service because Banister did not serve during the war. Which might be technically true. But it is obvious that the Bureau was shifting Banister around the country during the war years. In his mini-biographical sketch, Banister mentions at least three different cities that he served in at that time. So why would it not be possible for Palmer to run into him during one of those temporary intelligence assignments? (DiEugenio, Destiny Betrayed, Second Edition, p. 103)

    Caufield also says that Palmer initially told Garrison that, after seeing Banister in the service, he did not see him again. But later, he recalled seeing him at the state legislature in Baton Rouge. Incredibly, Caufield uses this to call Palmer a liar. If we disposed of any and all witnesses who recalled something about a person (or incident) after their first interview, how many people could we have testify in court? Especially when it is something as minor as that. (Caufield, p. 663)

    But the author is still not done with his rhetorical barrage. He now says McGehee was lying when he said local Judge John Rarick asked him about the incident in 1964 or ’65. The reason for this? According to Caufield, it is because Rarick had seen the black Cadillac himself during the drive. Thus he need not have asked. (I’m not kidding, that is what he says.) But according to Joan Mellen, that is not the way it happened. She writes that, in his shop, McGehee is the one who volunteered the information to Rarick. Furthermore, it is clear that Rarick was helping publisher Ned Touchstone put together an article on the subject. So why would he not ask, especially since McGehee was not one of the voter registration witnesses? (Mellen, pp. 211-14)

    To put it simply: Caufield’s discussion of Clinton-Jackson is worthless.

    X

    Let us now go to what Caufield maintains was really important about New Orleans. Actually there are two points to review here. First, there is Walker’s visit there from November 20-22nd. Like several matters in the book, the author trumpets this in advance as being of great evidentiary importance. In fact, he writes in his usual over-the-top manner that his presence there is, in and of itself, inescapable evidence of conspiracy. (p. 465)

    By this time, I was aware of the author’s bloviating techniques and his undying efforts to inflate little or nothing into “bombshell evidence”; for instance, his Pere Marquette Building conspiracy. Well, the same thing happens here. Walker was in New Orleans attending a meeting of the woman’s auxiliary of the Chamber of Commerce. (Caufield, p. 458) This was followed up by a series of meetings with some of his financial backers, including Leander Perez. With one exception—the meeting with Perez—all of them took place in public places, with dozens of people present. Banister was not there. But Caufield tries to make up for this by presaging that Jack Martin and Joe Newbrough were. Yet, when he produces the informant report on this, it turns out that Martin is only mentioned as an appendix to the report, not as being at any of the hotel or bank meetings Walker held. And further, there is no mention of Newbrough meeting directly with Walker; he is one among anywhere from 35-90 persons in attendance. (see pp. 460-61)

    The other New Orleans aspect of what Caufield labels his conspiracy is the raid on the Southern Conference Education Fund (SCEF) office in New Orleans, which was run by the liberal integrationist James Dombrowski. As noted, earlier in the book, Caufield writes as if this were the culmination of Oswald’s undercover activities. But he then switches it around to say that, no, Walker decided to use him in the Dallas plot. (As I showed in part one, his ideas on this are patently absurd.) When I read Caufield’s chapter on the SCEF raid, I understood why he switched it around. Let me explain.

    The segregationist forces in Louisiana had passed what was called a Communist Control Law. This was aimed at limiting communist influence in pubic affairs. The law said that if the state could prove an organization was directly related to a known communist, then the group could be fined and its officers placed in jail. Caufield ratchets up his rhetoric again and says the successful prosecution of this law could have ended any hopes for integration in the state, and the south. (Caufield, p. 754) The idea was to show that integration—like water fluoridation—was some kind of communist-inspired plot.

    In his usual hyperbolic treatment, the author leaves out a couple of important points. First, there was such an act on the federal books since 1954. No one had tried to enforce it since almost all lawyers suspected it was unconstitutional. In Joan Mellen’s treatment of the subject, she writes that, far from being some kind of solution to integration, the Louisiana version of the act—and the Dombrowski case—was nothing but a delaying action against the inevitable destruction of the segregation system. (Mellen, Jim Garrison, His Life and Times, p. 169) And in fact, Senator James Eastland of Mississippi, who was part of the effort to raid SCEF, admitted in a letter that, “The staff has nothing on these people.” (ibid) As Mellen makes clear, and Caufield does not, Jim Garrison took on the role of the prosecution to avoid the state Attorney General having to do it, since he would have prosecuted the case in a much more vigorous, aggressive manner. As she details, Garrison did only the absolute minimum necessary, since he thought the raid was unconstitutional. On appeal to the Supreme Court of the Untied States, that was the verdict. (ibid, pp. 168-69)

    But more notably, in neither treatment of the case—Mellen’s nor Caufield’s—does it appear that the activities of Oswald and the FPCC were brought up during any court hearing or petition. Perhaps this is why Caufield switched horses later on in the book as to Oswald’s role in his muddled mess of a plot.

    I could go further in my critique of this pipe dream of a book. I could mention Caufield’s use of Harry Dean as an insider to his “plot”. But I would be doing more of the same—unveiling more nonsensical and seriously flawed claims. Instead I refer the reader to Ernie Lazar’s excellent site on Dean, which features most of the declassified documents in existence on Harry and his story. Yet Caufield prefers this treatment of Mexico City to the magnificent Lopez Report, which I could not find a reference to in his index.

    Let me make one more critical point about the book before concluding. In more than one place, and in his earlier mentions of the SCEF raid, the author states that the main motive of his plotters was to stop Kennedy from implementing his civil rights agenda. If that were the case, killing JFK would be completely and utterly stupid, since Vice-President Lyndon Johnson would then have had an even greater opportunity to pass civil rights legislation than Kennedy did, due to the national grief over Kennedy’s death. Which is what happened. This is a fact that Caufield never confronts.

    This is a book that fails to prove any of its main theses as far as an assassination plot goes. As I noted in part one, there is no credible evidence produced as far as Ruby or Oswald’s connections to Walker or Milteer. The idea of Oswald being a Nazi, or a willing distraction on the sixth floor is simply nonsense; as is Ruby’s pointing toward the plotters with the literature in his car trunk. The idea that Loran Hall was mucking up the Odio story for Walker can only live without reference to the actual testimony that is in his HSCA deposition. The smears of Jim Garrison are made possible only through a very limited view of what was actually in his files. The author’s portrayal of the Clinton-Jackson incident if so slanted as to be useless. And as detailed throughout, in all the instances where Caufield trumpets some powerful new evidence, upon examination it turns out to be, at best, anemic, at worst, non-existent.

    Maybe something will turn up someday to reveal that either Walker or Milteer had some kind of role in the JFK murder. But Caufield has not come even close to proving it, what with his equivalent of an 80-year-old assassin, and his plotters wiping out all the Jews on Wall Street. In fact, after reading what I have written here, and looking back through my notes, I am certain that it is mild compared to what someone equally knowledgeable would have written. (The author takes cheap shots at Fletcher Prouty, and Victor Marchetti as being disinformationists. See pp. 577-81.)

    If the reader is interested in knowledge about the inner workings of the radical right back in the fifties or sixties, then this is a useful book. But as far as relating that group to the murder of JFK, it is simply a dud. And a pretentious, bombastic, overlong and tedious dud at that. In this reviewer’s opinion, it is the worst book on the JFK case since Ultimate Sacrifice.