PCN 12010
Report Documentation Page Form Approved

OMB No. 0704-0188

Public reporting burden for the collection of information is estimated to average 1 hour per response, including the time for reviewing instructions, searching existing data sources, gathering and

maintaining the data needed, and completing and reviewing the collection of information. Send comments regarding this burden estimate or any other aspect of this collection of information,

including suggestions for reducing this burden, to Washington Headquarters Services, Directorate for Information Operations and Reports, 1215 Jefferson Davis Highway, Suite 1204, Arlington

VA 22202-4302. Respondents should be aware that notwithstanding any other provision of law, no person shall be subject to a penalty for failing to comply with a collection of information if it

does not display a currently valid OMB control number.

1. REPORT DATE

SEP 2008 2. REPORT TYPE

3. DATES COVERED

 00-00-2008 to 00-00-2008 

4. TITLE AND SUBTITLE

Interrogation: World War II, Vietnam, and Iraq

5a. CONTRACT NUMBER

5b. GRANT NUMBER

5c. PROGRAM ELEMENT NUMBER

6. AUTHOR(S) 5d. PROJECT NUMBER

5e. TASK NUMBER

5f. WORK UNIT NUMBER

7. PERFORMING ORGANIZATION NAME(S) AND ADDRESS(ES)

National Defense Intelligence College,Washington,DC,20301

8. PERFORMING ORGANIZATION

REPORT NUMBER

9. SPONSORING/MONITORING AGENCY NAME(S) AND ADDRESS(ES) 10. SPONSOR/MONITOR’S ACRONYM(S)

11. SPONSOR/MONITOR’S REPORT 

NUMBER(S)

12. DISTRIBUTION/AVAILABILITY STATEMENT

Approved for public release; distribution unlimited

13. SUPPLEMENTARY NOTES

14. ABSTRACT

15. SUBJECT TERMS

16. SECURITY CLASSIFICATION OF: 17. LIMITATION OF 

ABSTRACT

Same as

Report (SAR)

18. NUMBER

OF PAGES

263

19a. NAME OF

RESPONSIBLE PERSON

a. REPORT

unclassified

b. ABSTRACT

unclassified

c. THIS PAGE

unclassified

Standard Form 298 (Rev. 8-98)

Prescribed by ANSI Std Z39-18 
Interrogation

Th e views expressed in this book are those of the authors and do not refl ect 

the offi cial policy or position of the Department of Defense, the Defense 

Intelligence Agency, or any other agency of the U.S. Government.

NATIONAL DEFENSE INTELLIGENCE COLLEGE

WASHINGTON, DC

September 2008

World War II,

Vietnam, and

Iraq
Th e National Defense Intelligence College supports and encourages 

research on intelligence issues that distills lessons and improves Intelligence 

Community capabilities to policy-level and operational consumers 

Interrogation: World War II, Vietnam, and Iraq

Th is book presents the work of three NDIC graduate students. All three worked 

under Professor John A. Wahlquist of the College, with external guidance from 

a group of scholars and recognized subject matter experts under the leadership 

of Dr. Robert A. Fein of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Th e book 

follows the NDIC Press’s Educing Information – Interrogation: Science and Art, 

Foundations for the Future. By adding historical and practical context going 

back to U.S. policy and practice in interrogations during World War II, the 

Vietnam confl ict, and the ongoing war in Iraq, this newest volume contributes 

to the high-profi le public dialogue on how U.S. military and civilian agencies 

can best obtain information from prisoners of war and other categories of legal 

and illegal combatants without compromising the principles upon which the 

nation was founded.

Th is publication has been approved for unrestricted distribution by the Offi ce of 

Security Review, Department of Defense. Th e editor acknowledges the gracious 

assistance of D. Lee Galloway III of the College’s John T. Hughes Library, who 

was indispensable in obtaining copyright clearances for the illustrations in this 

book. Electronic copies of this and other Center publications are available at 

http://www.ndic.edu. For more information on this or other publications contact 

the editor at the address below or by commercial phone at (202) 231-4193. 

William.Spracher@dia.mil, Editor

Center for Strategic Intelligence Research

978-1-932946-23-9

2008933262

ii |

ISBN 

Library of Congress Control Number
| iii

CONTENTS

FOREWORD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .v

COMMENTARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1

 Mr. John A. Wahlquist, NDIC Faculty

Interrogation of Japanese POWs in World War II:

U.S. Response to a Formidable Challenge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17

 Special Agent James A. Stone, U.S. Air Force

Unveiling Charlie: U.S. Interrogators’ Creative Successes

Against Insurgents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77

 Special Agent David P. Shoemaker, U.S. Air Force

Th e Accidental Interrogator: A Case Study and Review of 

U.S. Army Special Forces Interrogations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147

 Major Nicholas R. Dotti, U.S. Army

APPENDIXES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .217-236

BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237

INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249

ABOUT THE AUTHORS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253

| v

FOREWORD

Robert A. Fein, Ph.D. 

Member, Intelligence Science Board

Chairman, ISB Study on Educing Information

In September 2004, the Intelligence Science Board, an advisory board 

appointed by the Director of National Intelligence, initiated the Study on Educing Information (EI). Th is study is an ongoing eff ort to review what is known 

scientifi cally about interrogation and other forms of human intelligence collection and to chart a path to the future.

As part of our eff orts, we have worked closely with faculty and students of 

the National Defense Intelligence College. Th e NDIC Press published Educing 

Information: Interrogation: Science and Art, Foundations for the Future, a book 

based on Phase I of the Study on EI. Th ree students, Special Agent James Stone, 

U.S. Air Force; Special Agent David Shoemaker, U.S. Air Force; and Major 

Nicholas Dotti, U.S. Army, completed master’s thesis studies during Academic 

Year 2006-07 on topics related to interrogation. Each thesis is a remarkable and 

useful document.

Special Agent Stone researched U.S. eff orts during World War II to 

develop language and interrogation capacities to deal with our Japanese enemy. 

He found that military leaders, oft en working with civilian counterparts, created and implemented successful strategies, building on cultural and linguistic 

skills that substantially aided the war eff ort for the U.S. and its Allies. 

Special Agent Shoemaker studied the experiences of three successful 

interrogators during the Vietnam War. Like S/A Stone, S/A Shoemaker suggests 

that policymakers and practitioners have much to learn from professionals who 

served eff ectively for years in the fi eld educing information. And like Stone, 

Shoemaker highlights the importance of a deep understanding of the language, 

psychology, and culture of adversaries and potential allies in other countries.

Major Dotti examined recent policy and practice with regard to tactical 

and fi eld interrogations, especially with regard to the eff orts of Special Forces 

soldiers in Iraq. He concludes that the “letter” of current doctrine contradicts its 

“intent.” Major Dotti off ers recommendations that he believes are both consistent with the intent of military doctrine and likely to increase the eff ectiveness 

of U.S. interrogation practices in the fi eld.
vi |

Each of these studies demonstrates that thoughtful, pragmatic research 

can produce stimulating and useful knowledge that may aid 21st century decision-makers. Together these reports suggest that, by looking at both the distant 

and recent past, planners and operators can gain insights that may lead to future 

successes in educing information from adversaries. 

In publishing these studies, the National Defense Intelligence College 

continues to serve the military, law enforcement, and intelligence communities, 

and the nation in general, by supporting and disseminating information and 

perspectives that sharpen and improve our thinking in key national security 

arenas.
| vii

COMMENTARY

Mr. Bryan Vossekuil 

Member, ISB Study on Educing Information 

From ad hoc Interrogation to an Educing 

Information Profession?

Q: Has the U.S. faced an adversary in the past that appeared unusually 

and confoundingly alien?

Q: Can one persuade such an adversary to provide useful information 

aft er capture?

Q: Can valuable information be obtained using interrogation methods 

that are consonant with American values? Can one build an eff ective operational accord with an exceedingly diffi cult adversary? Are there successful 

examples from the past that speak to these questions?

Q: Has the U.S. ever had a successful, government-wide, systems 

approach to educing information—that is, to interrogation?

Th e answers to these questions all seem to be “yes.”

Special Agent Stone tells us that the Japanese were seen as a formidable 

and “otherworldly” adversary in 1941. Th e U.S. was poorly prepared to face 

such an adversary. Few military or civilian Americans spoke Japanese, which 

was regarded by many as an impossible language (in 1940, for example, the 

Navy had only a dozen sailors and offi cers regarded as fully profi cient in Japanese). Th ere were few Americans who understood the culture and psychology 

of Japan, which was seen as profoundly alien. Th e Japanese soldier seemed to 

fi ght with religious zeal, was willing to be a kamikaze pilot (a suicide bomber), 

and was feared as one who would rather die than be captured. Gathering vital 

intelligence through interrogation under these circumstances seemed a nearly 

impossible challenge. Developing a national program to do so seemed even 

harder.

Th rough cooperation of military and civilian counterparts, such a program 

was created during WW II—a program so successful that it is credited, by some 

observers, with shortening the war in the Pacifi c by two years. Th is program was 

founded upon knowledge of Japanese culture and psychology, language profi -

ciency—and pointedly humane treatment of those captured. Its success was also 

largely due to a decision, controversial at the time, to employ Nisei interrogators. 
viii |

Th is experience, as described by Special Agent Stone in his essay, implicitly invites 

comparison to our current confl icts in Iraq and elsewhere.

Special Agent Shoemaker details U.S. interrogation eff orts in the insurgent 

confl ict in Vietnam—another confl ict in which our country encountered challenges in understanding the enemy’s culture and language. He provides case studies 

of successful counterinsurgency interrogators. Using their experiences, he describes 

eff ective interrogation strategies and highlights a handful of successful interrogators. 

Interestingly, in a number of examples cited, success seemed to be generated at least 

in part by what happened outside the interrogation session. Th ese stories remind 

the reader of the power of appealing to individual interests and of cultural understanding, in forming a personal relationship or building an operational accord in 

order to get information. Shoemaker also argues that our reputation in the international community is strongly infl uenced by our interrogation practices.

Major Dotti—a highly trained member of Army Special Forces— 

called himself the “Accidental Interrogator.” He off ers a fi rst-person account 

of some of the challenges of fi eld interrogations in the current confl ict in 

Iraq. He raises specifi c questions about authorization, preparation, and oversight of interrogations in the fi eld. What is really appropriate? Who is best 

suited to conduct fi eld interrogations when there are serious time imperatives? How ought interrogators be trained and supported? Do we need some 

modifi cation of war plans and doctrine to plan for the future?

Th e three essays taken together remind us that our nation has lost sight 

of some of the wisdom of the past. Th e reader may refl ect on whether the U.S. 

needs a government-wide systems approach and long-term strategic planning for future intelligence-driven interviewing eff orts.

Th ere are many diffi cult questions for the future that touch on interrogation, 

educing information, and intelligence interviewing. For example, who, in addition 

to uniformed and terrorist combatants, might have critical information? In which 

countries and cultures will these needs arise next year? How can we develop permanent capacities to obtain the information we need, especially from so-called 

High Value Persons? How should we deal with potentially knowledgeable children, very old people, women, and badly injured civilian casualties? How can we 

deal with the obvious need for many more professional female interrogators?

Our nation needs this work to be professionalized in order to educe 

information eff ectively over the coming years, in ways consonant with 

American values. It needs Educing Information Professional Teams, resource 

planning, case studies, and research for continuous improvement. In all likelihood, we will need to maintain a cadre of highly trained professionals on a 

robust, ongoing basis. Th is book from NDIC suggests that the U.S. has had 

some success in the past that may help inform the future.
| 1

Enhancing Interrogation

Introduction

[Th e] barbarous custom of whipping men suspected of having 

important secrets to reveal must be abolished. It has always 

been recognized that this method of interrogation, by putting men to the torture, is useless. Th e wretches say whatever 

comes into their heads and whatever they think one wants to 

believe. Consequently, the Commander-in-Chief forbids the 

use of a method which is contrary to reason and humanity.

—Napoleon Bonaparte to Major General Louis-Alexandre 

Berthier, during the French military campaign in Egypt, 1798

Some may argue that we would be more eff ective if we sanctioned 

torture or other expedient methods to obtain information from 

the enemy. Th ey would be wrong. Beyond the basic fact that such 

actions are illegal, history shows that they also are frequently neither useful nor necessary. Certainly, extreme physical action can 

make some “talk;” however, what the individual says may be of 

questionable value. In fact, our experience in applying the interrogation standards laid out in the Army Field Manual (2-22.3) 

on Human Intelligence Collector Operations that was published 

last year shows that the techniques in the manual work eff ectively 

and humanely in eliciting information from detainees.

—General David H. Petraeus, U.S. Army, Commanding, to

Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, and Coast Guardsmen

serving in Multi-National Force-Iraq, 2007

Th e issue of so-called “enhanced interrogation techniques” has occupied 

the national agenda almost continuously since the fi rst public revelations in April 

2004 of Iraqi prisoner abuse by U.S. Army soldiers in Baghdad’s Abu Ghraib 

prison. Intelligence interrogation, as interpreted and applied in a variety of ways 
2 |

throughout history, is one of humankind’s oldest practices.1 Th e objective of this 

volume, Interrogation: World War II, Vietnam, and Iraq, based on student research 

at the National Defense Intelligence College in conjunction with the Director 

of National Intelligence’s ongoing Intelligence Science Board Study on Educing 

Information, is to inform a broad audience of intelligence professionals, policymakers, and the general public about intelligence interrogation techniques that 

truly enhance our chances for success in the Global War on Terrorism. Th e work 

reviews the current legal and operational status of enhanced interrogation techniques, as well as their origin. Th at is the subject of this essay.

A Presidential Veto

On 8 March 2008, President George W. Bush vetoed the proposed Intelligence Authorization Act of 2008. In his message to the House of Representatives 

explaining his veto, the President focused on his disagreement with Congress over 

its attempt to restrict the Central Intelligence Agency’s continued use of enhanced 

interrogation techniques. Section 327 of the legislation stipulated that all intelligence interrogation methods conform to those currently authorized in U.S. Army 

Field Manual (FM) 2-22.3 for use by Department of Defense (DoD) interrogators.2

Essentially, the intent of the legislation was to extend the same interrogation requirements specifi ed for DoD in the Detainee Treatment Act of 2005 to all elements of the 

Intelligence Community.3 In response, President Bush emphasized that accepting 

such restrictions would jeopardize national security. “It is vitally important that the 

Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)...conduct a separate and specialized interrogation program for terrorists who possess the most critical information in the War on 

Terror [which] has helped the United States prevent a number of attacks.”4

Commenting on the interrogation technique known as “waterboarding” 

(a harsh procedure simulating drowning that CIA Director Michael Hayden 

earlier acknowledged his agency has used against certain senior al Qaeda operatives5), President Bush clarifi ed that his disagreement was “not over any particular 

interrogation technique...[but] the need...to shield from disclosure to al Qaeda 

1 Intelligence interrogation is currently defined in U.S. Army Field Manual (FM) 2-22.3 as 

“the systematic process of using approved interrogation approaches to question a captured or 

detained person to obtain reliable information to satisfy intelligence requirements, consistent 

with applicable law and policy.” FM 2-22.3, Human Intelligence Collector Operations (Washington, DC: Department of the Army, 6 September 2006), 5-13.

2 President George W. Bush, “Message to the House of Representatives,” The White House, 8

March 2008, http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2008/03/20080308-1.html (accessed 

19 July 2008). 

3 See SEC. 1002. in the Detainee Treatment Act of 2005, as reproduced in Bernard J. Hibbitts, ed., Jurist: Legal News and Research, 31 December 2005, http://jurist.law.pitt.edu/

gazette/2005/12/detainee-treatment-act-of-2005-white.php (accessed 19 July 2008).

4 President George W. Bush, “Message to the House of Representatives.”

5 “Hearing of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence,” Annual Worldwide Threat Assessment, 5 February 2008, 24, http://www.dni.gov/testimonies/20080205_transcript.pdf (accessed 

22 July 2008).
| 3

and other terrorists the interrogation techniques they may face upon capture.” 

Addressing the legal and moral outcry against waterboarding and other enhanced 

procedures that some have alleged to be torture, President Bush was resolute: “Th e 

United States opposes torture, and I remain committed to following international 

and domestic law regarding the humane treatment of people in its custody.”6 In 

his weekly radio address to the American people that same day, the President intimated that CIA’s special interrogation program was a key factor in the United States 

escaping further attacks by al Qaeda during the past six and a half years. Conceding to Congress, according to the President, by restricting the “CIA to methods in 

the Field Manual...could cost American lives. We have no higher responsibility 

than stopping terrorist attacks. And this is no time for Congress to abandon practices that have a proven track record of keeping America safe.”7

Congressional critics immediately challenged the President’s command of 

the facts regarding how much safer the American people are as a result of the CIA’s 

aggressive methods. Chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, 

John D. (Jay) Rockefeller IV, claimed that despite the President’s assertions

I have heard nothing to suggest that information obtained 

from enhanced interrogation techniques has prevented an 

imminent terrorist attack. And I have heard nothing that 

makes me think the information obtained from these techniques could not have been obtained through traditional 

interrogation methods used by military and law enforcement 

interrogations. On the other hand, I do know that coercive 

interrogations can lead detainees to provide false information 

in order to make the interrogation stop.8

Milt Bearden, a 30-year veteran of CIA clandestine operations, agrees. Writing in the Washington Independent, Bearden takes the administration to task for 

its repeated assurances that, by revealing terrorist plots before they were hatched, 

enhanced interrogation techniques have saved American lives. Bearden maintains, 

“Th e administration’s claims of having ‘saved thousands of Americans’ can be dismissed out of hand because credible evidence has never been off ered—not even an 

authoritative leak of any major terrorist operation interdicted based on information 

gathered from these interrogations in the past seven years.” Rather Bearden sees 

administration statements refl ecting the battle raging since 9/11 between the “old 

6 President George W. Bush, “Message to the House of Representatives.”

7 President George W. Bush, “President’s Radio Address,” The White House, 8 March 2008, 

http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2008/03/20080308.html (accessed 19 July 2008).

8 “Bush: Limiting CIA Interrogations ‘Could Cost American Lives,’” TPM Muckraker, 8 March 

2008, http://tpmmuckraker.talkingpointsmemo.com/2008/03/bush_limiting_cia_interrogatio.php

(accessed 20 July 2008).
4 |

hands” in CIA, who reject coercive techniques because they consider them ineff ective and, even worse, undermining of American values, and the “take off the gloves 

group,” most of whom are not interrogators, but who rose to positions of prominence 

aft er 9/11 by playing to the administration’s desire to get tough with the terrorists.9

Th e Water Cure

According to research by historian Paul Kramer, published in the February 2008 New Yorker, recent events are not the fi rst time an American administration has had to account for employing harsh tactics when interrogating enemies, 

including the practice of waterboarding or, as it was called in 1902, the “water cure.” 

Beginning in 1901, U.S. soldiers in the Philippines and returning veterans of what 

was then called the Philippine Insurrection (1899-1902), a confl ict between the 

United States and indigenous Filipinos fi ghting for independence from U.S. occupation, recounted stories of unfl attering conduct by U.S. soldiers. Picked up by 

anti-imperialists in Congress who were opposed to U.S. colonial aspirations in the 

Philippines as well as the ensuing war, the stories gained traction with the public. 

Amid vivid accounts of murder, mayhem, and torture committed by both sides 

was the description of a specifi c interrogation technique referred to as the water 

cure that was generally attributed to U.S. troops. So ubiquitous were these accounts 

that new U.S. President Th eodore Roosevelt, who had replaced the assassinated 

William McKinley in September 1901, was constrained to allow members of his 

administration to appear before Congress to answer allegations of torture.10 At 

least in terms of its notoriety, the water cure was the Abu Ghraib of its day. However, in spite of being “tolerated and under-punished,” as Kramer points out, the 

water cure was “not...formally authorized at the highest levels in Washington.”11

Future President and Chief Justice of the Supreme Court William Howard 

Taft , who was at the time the fi rst civilian Governor-General of the Philippines, 

testifi ed in early February 1902 to the Senate Committee on the Philippines 

about “instances of water cure, that torture which I believe involves pouring 

water down the throat so that the man swells and gets the impression that he 

is going to be suff ocated and then tells what he knows, which was a frequent 

treatment under the Spaniards.” Despite this lurid account, Taft downplayed the 

severity of the problem and emphasized that American offi cials did not tolerate 

such abuses and swift ly brought those involved to justice.12

9 Milt Bearden, “Truth & Consequences on CIA and Torture, Spy Agency Continues to Carry 

Out White House Policy,” Washington Independent, 1 July 2008, http://washingtonindependent.

com/view/the-truth-is-out-on (accessed 20 July 2008). 

10 Paul Kramer, “The Water Cure: Debating Torture and Counterinsurgency—A Century Ago,” 

New Yorker, 25 February 2008, http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/02/25/080225fa_

fact_kramer (accessed 19 July 2008).

11 Paul Kramer, “The Water Cure: An American Debate on Torture and Counterinsurgency 

in the Philippines—A Century Ago, Japan Focus, 4 March 2008, http://japanfocus.org/products/

topdf/2685 (accessed 25 July 2008).

12 Kramer, “The Water Cure: Debating Torture and Counterinsurgency—A Century Ago.”
| 5

In follow-on testimony, Secretary of War Elihu Root reminded committee members of the “barbarous cruelty common among uncivilized races,” like 

the Filipino insurgents. Th e United States, on the other hand, the Secretary said, 

was conducting its military operations with “scrupulous regard for the rules of 

civilized warfare, with careful and genuine consideration for the prisoner and 

the noncombatant, with self-restraint, and with humanity never surpassed, if 

ever equaled, in any confl ict, worthy only of praise, and refl ecting credit on the 

American people.” Undeterred when further accusations surfaced of the alleged 

use of torture, including the water cure, Root ordered a court martial for the 

alleged perpetrator. However, before it convened he confi ded to the presiding 

offi cer his belief that “the violations of law and humanity, of which these cases, 

if true, are examples, will prove to be few and occasional, and not to characterize the conduct of the army generally in Philippines.”13 His future counterpart, 

Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, made a similar argument in a May 2004 

Pentagon news conference referring to the abuse at Abu Ghraib as an “exceptional, isolated...case,”14 a theme reiterated by President Bush who characterized 

it as “disgraceful conduct by a few American troops who dishonored our country and disregarded our values.”15

President Roosevelt, sworn to uphold the law, but angry at his anti-imperialist political opponents who he felt were using the issue of torture to undermine not only his legitimacy but also the country’s moral standing within the 

international community,16 was uncertain of how to respond. On one hand he 

declared, “determined and unswerving eff ort must be made, and has been and 

is being made, to fi nd out every instance of barbarity on the part of our troops, 

to punish those guilty of it, and to take, if possible, even stronger measures than 

have already been taken to minimize or prevent the occurrence of all such acts 

in the future.”17 However, in words echoed over a century later in President 

Bush’s “forward strategy of freedom” for justifying the U.S. military intervention 

13 Kramer, “The Water Cure: Debating Torture and Counterinsurgency—A Century Ago.”

14 Secretary of Defense Donald H. Rumsfeld, “Defense Department Operational Update 

Briefing,” News Transcript, 4 May 2004, http://www.defenselink.mil/transcripts/transcript.

aspx?transcriptid=2973 (accessed 2 August 2008).

15 President George W. Bush, “President Outlines Steps to Help Iraq Achieve Democracy 

and Freedom,” The White House, U.S. Army War College, Carlisle, PA, 24 May 2004, http://www.

whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2004/05/20040524-10.html (accessed 2 August 2008).

16 An example of the widespread public awareness, at the time, of waterboarding is the 

cover of Life magazine for 22 May 1902. On it is a cartoon of an American Army officer overseeing two soldiers administering the water cure to a Filipino. In the background is a collection of 

European soldiers who are watching. The caption reads: “Those pious Yankees can’t throw 

stones at us anymore.” See waterboarding.org, http://waterboarding.org/node/20 (accessed 24 

July 2008).

17 Kramer. “The Water Cure: Debating Torture and Counterinsurgency—A Century Ago.”
6 |

in Iraq,18 President Roosevelt explained that “not only the surest but the only 

eff ectual way of stopping [cruelties] is by the progress of the American arms.” In 

a Decoration (Memorial) Day speech at Arlington Cemetery on 30 May 1902, 

he posed the following question and answer: “Peace and freedom—are there 

two better objects for which a soldier can fi ght? Well, these are precisely the 

objects for which our soldiers are fi ghting in the Philippines.... [Th ey] do more 

than bring peace, do more than bring order. Th ey bring freedom.”19

Th e Philippine-American War offi cially ended on 4 July 1902, with the 

United States declaring victory and off ering amnesty to Filipino fi ghters. Th is 

action, plus President Roosevelt’s policy of vigorously prosecuting service members accused of torture, specifi cally the water cure, sidetracked the momentum 

of administration critics and ensured that its practice was no longer tolerated 

within the ranks of the U.S. Army.20 It took over forty years before waterboarding again captured the popular attention of Americans and then it was because 

they were its victims. Th e torture and abuse of U.S. and Allied prisoners of war 

held by the Japanese during World War II was a defi ning event for the United 

States. Th e Japanese Empire, which was not a signatory of the Geneva Convention of 1929, infl icted extreme hardship and suff ering on military and civilian 

prisoners during interrogation and custodial detention. Following the war, the 

victorious Allies both collectively and individually convened legal proceedings 

to prosecute Japanese soldiers for violations of the Law of War. According to 

Judge Evan Wallach, writing in Th e Washington Post, in the 1946-1948 International Military Tribunal for the Far East (Tokyo War Crimes Trials), “leading 

members of Japan’s military and government elite were charged, among their 

many crimes, with torturing Allied military personnel and civilians.” In light of 

current events, it is noteworthy that “the principal proof upon which their torture 

convictions were based was conduct that we would now call waterboarding.”21

In stark contrast to the international tribunal’s fi ndings from over sixty years 

ago was testimony to a subcommittee of the House Judiciary Committee by Steven 

G. Bradbury, acting chief of the Justice Department’s Offi ce of Legal Counsel, in 

February 2008. Bradbury testifi ed that, aft er reviewing the CIA’s plans in 2002 for its 

enhanced interrogation program, the Department of Justice determined that waterboarding and other enhanced techniques were legal. According to Bradbury, “the 

historical examples that have been referenced in the public debate [involving Japa18 See President George W. Bush, “President Bush Discusses Freedom in Iraq and Middle East,” 

The White House, 20th Anniversary of the National Endowment for Democracy, United States Chamber of Commerce, Washington, DC, 6 November 2003, http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/

releases/2003/11/20031106-2.html (accessed 24 July 2008). 

19 “President Strikes at Army Critics,” The New York Times, 31 May 2002, http://query.nytimes.

com/gst/abstract.html?res=9F0DEFDE113DEE32A25752C3A9639C946397D6CF (accessed 24 July 2008). 

20 Paul Kramer, “The Water Cure: Debating Torture and Counterinsurgency—A Century 

Ago.”

21 Evan Wallach, “Waterboarding Used to Be a Crime,” washingonpost.com, 4 November 

2007, emphasis added, http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/11/02/

AR2007110201170.html (accessed 25 July 2008).
| 7

nese use of waterboarding during World War II] have all involved a course of conduct that everyone would agree constituted egregious instances of torture.... Th e 

only thing in common [with CIA methods] is, I think, the use of water.” Although 

“something can be quite distressing, uncomfortable, even frightening,” Bradbury 

said, “if it doesn’t involve severe physical pain, and it doesn’t last very long, it may 

not constitute severe physical suff ering.”22 His testimony is supported by a heavily 

redacted, recently declassifi ed memo originally issued by Assistant Attorney General Jay S. Bybee to the CIA on 1 August 2002. In it Bybee argued that

to violate the statute [on torture], an individual must have the 

specifi c intent to infl ict severe pain or suff ering. Because specifi c intent is an element of the off ense, the absence of specifi c intent negates the charge of torture.... Accordingly, if an 

individual conducting the interrogation has a good faith belief 

that the procedures he will apply, separately or together, would 

not result in prolonged mental harm, that individual lacks the 

requisite specifi c intent.23

Tougher Interrogation Equals Better Intelligence?

Human intelligence is the oldest of the intelligence disciplines and the 

questioning of captured enemies to obtain information of potential intelligence 

value is equally ancient. Th roughout the long history of interrogation there 

persists the seductive simplicity, especially common among impatient leaders 

who demand quick solutions to complex problems, that tougher interrogation 

invariably equals better intelligence. In an October 2006 interview, Vice President Dick Cheney agreed with his host that the use of waterboarding on high 

value detainees was a “no-brainer” because it “provided us enormously valuable 

information” that contributed to saving American lives.24 Speaking to the Heritage Foundation on 23 January 2008, the Vice President further elaborated on 

this subject. “Among the most eff ective weapons against terrorism is good intelligence—information that helps us fi gure out the movements of the enemy, the 

extent of their operations, the location of their cells, the plans that they’re mak22 Dan Eggen, “Justice Official Defends Rough CIA Interrogations: Severe, Lasting Pain Is 

Torture, He Says,” washingtonpost.com, 17 February 2008, http://www.washingtonpost.com/

wp-dyn/content/article/2008/02/16/AR2008021602634_pf.html (accessed 25 July 2008).

23 “Memo Dated August 1, 2002 from OLC to CIA,”American Civil Liberties Union, Documents 

Released by the CIA and Justice Department in Response to the ACLU’s Torture FOIA, 24 July 

2008, http://www.aclu.org/safefree/torture/36108prs20080724.html (accessed 25 July 2008). 

See also “New Torture Memo from 2002 is Disclosed,” The Los Angeles Times, 25 July 2008, 

http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-cia25-2008jul25,0,4303614.story

(accessed 25 July 2008).

24 Vice President Richard B. Cheney, “Interview of the Vice President by Scott Hennen, 

WDAY at Radio Day at the White House,” The White House, 24 October 2006, http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2006/10/20061024-7.html (accessed 21 July 2008).
8 |

ing, the methods they use, and the targets that they want to strike. Information 

of this kind is also the very hardest to obtain.” So how does the United States get 

access to this information? Not surprisingly, according to the Vice President, we 

get it by talking to the terrorists themselves, specifi cally “the ones that we’ve captured” and are holding at the detention facility in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. For 

the really hard-core terrorists, however, like 9/11 mastermind Khalid Sheikh 

Mohammed, Mr. Cheney advocates a “tougher program run by the CIA.” Th e 

result of this program, the Vice President confi ded to his audience, is a “wealth 

of information that has foiled attacks against the United States; information that 

has saved countless, innocent lives.” Th e implied connection between coercive 

interrogations and critical intelligence is clear.25

Th is connection is not surprising in the wake of President Bush’s issuance 

in July 2007 of an Executive Order determining “that a program of detention 

and interrogation approved by the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency 

fully complies with obligations of the United States under Common Article 

3 [of the Geneva Conventions of 1949].” Th e order essentially confi rmed the 

Director of the CIA’s authority to conduct interrogations under diff erent rules 

than those governing the Department of Defense.26

Th e CIA and Special Interrogation Rules

In public remarks to the Council on Foreign Relations in September 

2007, the CIA Director, General Michael Hayden, made the case for his agency’s 

special interrogation rules. According to General Hayden (now retired from the 

Air Force), over seventy percent of the information used to construct a recent 

National Intelligence Estimate on terrorist threats to the homeland was gleaned 

from detainee debriefi ngs. “Th ese programs are targeted and they are selective. 

Th ey were designed only for the most dangerous terrorists and those believed 

to have the valuable information, such as knowledge of planned attacks.” Interestingly, despite General Hayden’s spirited defense of the usefulness of the CIA’s 

special rules, he admitted that “a lot of what you hear about our interrogation 

and debriefi ng techniques is not only false, it actually tends to obscure a point 

that we and our offi cers understand very well. When face to face with a detained 

terrorist, the most eff ective tool bar is knowledge. Th at means things like familiarity with the subject’s background, knowing the correct questions to ask, 

25 Vice President Richard B. Cheney, “Vice President’s Remarks to the Heritage Foundation,” The 

White House, 23 January 2008, http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2008/01/20080123-2.

html (accessed 20 July 2008). 

26 “President George W. Bush, “Executive Order: Interpretation of the Geneva Conventions 

Common Article 3 as Applied to a Program of Detention and Interrogation Operated by the 

Central Intelligence Agency,” The White House, 20 July 2007, http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/

releases/2007/07/20070720-4.html, (accessed 22 July 2008).
| 9

countering lies with facts.”27 As any veteran interrogator will attest, the application of superior knowledge in an intelligence interrogation is neither dependent 

on the coercive interrogation measures the CIA is so reluctant to give up nor 

restricted in any way by complying with the approved techniques in the Army 

Field Manual.

Yet, having made his point about the importance of knowledge to successful interrogations (one would surmise he means all successful interrogations, not just those conducted by the CIA), it is ironic that General Hayden 

believes that “what it is we do as an agency is diff erent from what is contained in 

the Army Field Manual.”28 Elaborating on this theme in later testimony before 

the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence in February 2008, General Hayden 

was dismissive of the prescriptions in the Army Field Manual to the point of 

being condescending:

On the face of it it would make no more sense to apply the 

Army’s fi eld manual to CIA—the Army Field Manual on interrogations, than it would be to take the Army Field Manual 

on grooming and apply it to my agency, or the Army Field 

Manual on recruiting and apply it to my agency, or for that 

matter, take the Army Field Manual on sexual orientation and 

apply it to my agency.... We should not confi ne our universe 

of lawful interrogation to a subset of those techniques that 

were developed for one purpose.29

If by “one purpose” General Hayden is referring to the Army’s doctrinal 

and operational interest in tactical interrogations, which occupies the largest 

share of the Army’s attention, then he clearly is overlooking the broader intent 

of FM 2-22.3 to provide guidance for the conduct of interrogations “at all echelons in all operational environments.” In his eff ort to justify retaining enhanced 

techniques, General Hayden misses the point that all interrogations, whether 

done by a CIA offi cer or an enlisted soldier, share a common purpose—“to 

procure information to answer specifi c collection requirements by direct and 

indirect questioning techniques of a person who is in the custody of the forces 

27 “A Conversation with Michael Hayden,” Council on Foreign Relations, New York, NY, 7 

September 2007, http://www.cfr.org/publication/14162/conversation_with_michael_hayden_

rush_transcript_federal_news_service.html (accessed 22 July 2007). General Hayden made a 

similar argument in an open letter to CIA employees on 20 July 2007, the same day President 

Bush signed the Executive Order on Detentions and Interrogations. See Michael V. Hayden, 

“Director’s Statement on Executive Order on Detentions, Interrogations,” Central Intelligence 

Agency, 20 July 2007, https://www.cia.gov/news-information/press-releases-statements/pressrelease-archive-2007/statement-on-executive-order.html (accessed 23 July 2008).

28 “A Conversation with Michael Hayden.”

29 “Hearing of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence,” Annual Worldwide Threat Assessment, 5 February 2008, 23.
10 |

conducting the questioning.” And, more importantly, all interrogations should 

be “conducted in accordance with the Law of War, regardless of the echelon 

or operational environment in which the HUMINT collector is operating.”30

Despite General Hayden’s protests, applying the techniques in FM 2-22.3 is less 

about diff erences between tactical and strategic interrogation strategies than it 

is about adopting a common standard of compliance with international and 

domestic law and policy.

In making his case to the Council on Foreign Relations about the appropriateness of special interrogation rules for the CIA, General Hayden notes that 

CIA interrogators are older (average age 43) and presumably more experienced 

than their military counterparts. He also says CIA interrogators get 240 hours of 

training for this “specifi c activity.”31 What is misleading about these statements 

is that they suggest CIA had a seasoned corps of veteran interrogators waiting 

in the wings to question and exploit high-value detainees when the Global War 

on Terrorism began. Th e opposite was true. According to investigative reporter 

and author Jane Mayer, when it took custody of several senior al Qaeda insurgents captured in Afghanistan and Pakistan, “the CIA had no experience really 

in interrogating prisoners. Th ey had never really held prisoners before. And so, 

they really had no idea how to go about getting information out of people.” Th e 

answer the CIA came up with, Mayer says, was to seek out military and civilian specialists, including behavioral scientists, who train military personnel to 

resist coercive interrogation techniques that they might encounter if captured 

by our enemies.32

In hearings before the Senate Armed Services Committee on 17 June 

2008, Senator Carl Levin explained how military students who attend one of 

the Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE) schools are subjected to 

physically abusive treatment such as stress positions, hooding, sleep disruption, temperature extremes, loud music, and even waterboarding. Th e goal of 

the training is to prepare service members “so that should they be captured 

and subject to harsh treatment, they will be better prepared to resist.” Th e role 

players who pose as interrogators in administering this training are “not real 

interrogators—nor are they qualifi ed to be.”33 Among the documents released 

as part of Senator Levin’s hearing was an excerpt from a study done for the Air 

Force in the 1950s by sociologist Albert D. Biderman, examining the eff orts by 

the Chinese Communists to extract false confessions from captured American 

30 FM 2-22.3, 1-8.

31 “A Conversation with Michael Hayden.”

32 “The Dark Side: Jane Mayer on the Inside Story of How the War on Terror Turned Into a War 

on American Ideals,” Democracy Now! The War and Peace Report, 18 July 2008, http://www.democracynow.org/2008/7/18/the_dark_side_jane_mayer_on (accessed 23 July 2008). 

33 Senate Armed Services Committee, The Origins of Aggressive Interrogation Techniques: Part 

I of the Committee’s Inquiry into the Treatment of Detainees in U.S. Custody, 17 June 2008.
| 11

airmen.34 Adopting Biderman’s research on how the Communists used coercive 

methods to elicit compliance, the CIA reverse engineered defensive training 

into off ensive enhanced interrogation techniques for use on detainees. Ironically, what CIA missed in the process was Biderman’s overall conclusion that 

coercive methods primarily produced false confessions.35

General Hayden’s implication that CIA interrogators are necessarily better equipped, because of their maturity and training, to extract information of 

intelligence value from hard-core terrorists, is not supported by the evidence 

from Senator Levin’s investigation nor by new revelations emerging about the 

interrogations. Based on the declassifi ed documents from Senator Levin’s hearing, the 240 hours of training in a “specifi c activity,” which General Hayden 

referred to above, appears to focus almost exclusively on the dubious application of enhanced interrogation techniques adapted from SERE training to highvalue detainees.36 Recently disclosed information about at least one of the CIA 

offi cers who interrogated high-profi le terrorists such as Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, Zayn al-Abidin Muhammed Hussein (aka Abu Zubaydah), and Ramzi 

bin al-Shibh suggests those chosen, although older than many of their military 

counterparts, were not trained or certifi ed as interrogators by the CIA or any 

other government agency. Th is information was reported by Scott Shane of Th e 

New York Times.37

Shane quotes A.B. “Buzzy” Krongard, the CIA’s Executive Director, at 

the time third in the agency hierarchy behind Director George Tenet: “I asked, 

‘What are we going to do with these guys when we get them?’ I said, ‘We’ve never 

run a prison. We don’t have the languages. We don’t have the interrogators.’”38

In light of these disclosures, General Hayden’s attempt to rationalize why the 

CIA’s program should be exempt from the rules that apply to DoD interrogations seems more like an attempt to conceal the program’s inadequacies than to 

safeguard its special character and capabilities. 

In spite of this rough start, the CIA argues that the ad hoc interrogators 

eventually elicited valuable information from their hard-core al Qaeda interlocutors.39 CIA operations offi cer John Kiriakou oversaw the capture and interrogation of Abu Zubaydah. Th is interrogation, according to Kiriakou in an 

interview with ABC News correspondent Brian Ross, led to major intelligence 

34 Albert D. Biderman, “Communist Attempts to Elicit False Confessions from Air Force Prisoners of War,” Bulletin of the New York Academy of Medicine 33, no. 9 (September 1957), 

616-625, http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/pagerender.fcgi?artid=1806204&pageindex=7#page

(accessed 23 July 2008). 

35 Biderman, 616-625.

36 Scott Shane, “China Inspired Interrogations at Guantánamo,” The New York Times, 2 July 

2008, http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/02/us/02detain.html (accessed 21 July 2008).

37 Scott Shane, “Inside a 9/11 Mastermind’s Interrogation,” The New York Times, 22 June 2008, 

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/22/washington/22ksm.html?n=Top/Reference/Times%20Topics/People/S/Shane,%20Scott (accessed 24 July 2008).

38 Scott Shane, “Inside a 9/11 Mastermind’s Interrogation.”

39 Scott Shane, “Inside a 9/11 Mastermind’s Interrogation.”
12 |

breakthroughs that “disrupted a number of attacks, maybe dozens of attacks.... 

Once the information started coming in and we were able to corroborate it with 

other sources—and able to...disrupt other...al Qaeda operations, that was a big 

victory.”40 Th e question that remains unanswered is whether “success at building rapport with the most ruthless of terrorists” can be attributed to subjecting 

them to enhanced interrogation techniques or to the positive relationship interrogators developed with them while using traditional, non-coercive methods.41

Kiriakou, who chose not be to be trained in enhanced techniques,42 nonetheless believes their use to break down Abu Zubaydah’s resistance had a powerful emotional eff ect on convincing him to cooperate. Kiriakou says that shortly 

aft er Abu Zubaydah was waterboarded “he told his interrogator that Allah had 

visited him in his cell during the night and told him to cooperate because his 

cooperation would make it easier on the other brothers who had been captured. 

And from that day on he answered every question just like I’m sitting here 

speaking to you.” 43

Reporting by Dan Eggen and Walter Pincus in Th e Washington Post notes 

that Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) offi cials are skeptical about the accuracy and completeness of the information extracted from Abu Zubaydah aft er 

CIA interrogators subjected him to waterboarding and other enhanced techniques. Offi cials from both the FBI and CIA agree that Abu Zubaydah provided 

crucial information during earlier non-coercive interrogations. For example, he 

confi rmed the identities of 9/11 operations chief Khalid Shaikh Mohammed 

and American al Qaeda operative Jose Padilla. However, questions about the 

truthfulness of information Abu Zubaydah supplied aft erward have raised a 

furor between the two agencies.44

Special Agent Dan Coleman, who, until he retired in 2004, was the FBI’s 

lead investigator on Osama bin Laden and al Qaeda, contradicts former Director 

of Central Intelligence George Tenet’s contention that “Abu Zubaydah had been at 

the crossroads of many al-Qaeda operations and was in position to—and did—

share critical information with his interrogators.” As a result of the harsh methods 

used by CIA to interrogate Abu Zubaydah, Coleman declared, “I don’t have confi dence in anything he says, because once you go down that road, everything you 

say is tainted.... He was talking before they did that to him, but they didn’t believe 

him. Th e problem is they didn’t realize he didn’t know all that much.” Coleman, 

40 Transcript of interview with John Kiriakou by correspondent Brian Ross, “CIA—Abu Zubayda,” 

ABC News, 17, 39, http://abcnews.go.com/images/Blotter/brianross_kiriakou_transcript1_blotter071210.

pdf (accessed 27 July 2008).

41 Scott Shane, “Inside a 9/11 Mastermind’s Interrogation.”

42 Scott Shane, “Inside a 9/11 Mastermind’s Interrogation;” Transcript of interview with 

John Kiriakou by correspondent Brian Ross, 25.

43 Transcript of interview with John Kiriakou by correspondent Brian Ross, 17.

44 Dan Eggen and Walter Pincus, “FBI, CIA Debate Significance of Terror Suspect,” washingtonpost.com, 18 December 2007, http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/12/17/AR2007121702151.html (accessed 28 July 2008).
| 13

having carefully studied Abu Zubaydah’s diary, which was confi scated when he 

was taken into custody, believes he exaggerated his own role in al Qaeda. Th e CIA, 

on the other hand, was convinced Abu Zubaydah was just resisting interrogation. 

When he was not forthcoming with information the CIA expected him to know, 

CIA interrogators used enhanced techniques to break his spirit. In reality, Coleman 

contends, aft er being waterboarded, Abu Zubaydah became more talkative, but not 

more truthful. Th e threat information Abu Zubaydah provided post-waterboarding was “crap,” according to Coleman. “Th ere’s an agency mind-set that there was 

always some sort of golden apple out there, but there just isn’t, especially with guys 

like him.”45 Given that the CIA Director of Operations in November 2005 ordered 

the destruction of videotapes documenting the interrogations of Abu Zubaydah 

and other alleged senior al Qaeda leaders, the debate as to the signifi cance of their 

revelations and the value of enhanced interrogation techniques in obtaining them 

may never be known. 

Enhancing Interrogation

It is important to remember that intelligence interrogation is not an end 

in itself. Adapting a quotation from the classic book Front-Line Intelligence, 

we see that, just like that of all other intelligence personnel, the interrogators’ 

purpose is to “facilitate the accomplishment of the mission, and to save lives. 

When they fail, all the wrong people are hurt.”46 Certainly, those who developed 

enhanced interrogation techniques believed they were serving the mission of 

the Global War on Terrorism and saving lives; likewise, those who adamantly 

reject such methods fi nd justifi cation for the same reasons. So how do we know 

which course to choose? Th e safe bet is reliance on a standard that keeps interrogators’ conduct well away from gray areas that might be interpreted as torture, based on which legal interpretations might currently be fashionable.47

Th at standard, established by the Detainee Treatment Act of 2005, is found in 

FM 2-22.3, Human Intelligence Collector Operations.

Th e danger in not adopting such a standard is that we fall prey to exigencies and rationalizations of the moment that appear to create special cases. 

Colonel Morris Davis, the Chief Prosecutor for the Military Commissions at 

Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, from 2005 to 2007, tells this story:

45 Dan Eggen and Walter Pincus.

46 Lieutenant Colonel Stedman Chandler and Colonel Robert W. Robb, Front-Line Intelligence (Washington, DC: Infantry Journal Press, 1946), 7.

47 See the legal dilemmas associated with “advice of counsel” in the current debate about 

what constitutes torture in Daphne Eviatar, “Using Law to Justify Torture: Constitutional Scholars Say Advice of Counsel Is Probably Not a Strong Defense,” Washington Independent, 23 July 

2008, http://washingtonindependent.com/view/using-law-to-justify (accessed 29 July 2008).
14 |

Twenty-seven year ago, in the fi nal days of the Iran hostage crisis, the C.I.A.’s Tehran station chief, Tom Ahern, faced his principal interrogator for the last time. Th e interrogator said the abuse 

Mr. Ahern had suff ered was inconsistent with his own personal 

values and with the values of Islam and, as if to wipe the slate 

clean, he off ered Mr. Ahern a chance to abuse him just as he had 

abused the hostages. Mr. Ahern looked the interrogator in the 

eyes and said, “We don’t do stuff like that.”48

Sadly, the record shows what we have done in the past when confronted 

with enemies we deemed so barbarous and alien to our sensibilities that we 

consider them beyond humanity’s pale. As Paul Kramer implies, Filipino insurgents were widely regarded as such enemies by American soldiers fi ghting them 

during the Philippine-American War at the turn of the twentieth century. Not 

surprisingly, captured insurgents were treated to the water cure. “U.S. military 

actions are dictated by the mandates of an ‘exceptional’ kind of war against a 

uniquely treacherous and broadly-defi ned ‘enemy’,...[which] produced a troubling normalization of the atrocious.”49

More recently, President Bush described our enemies in the Global War 

on Terrorism and the actions we needed to take to defeat them in “exceptional” 

terms:

With the Twin Towers and the Pentagon still smoldering, our 

country on edge, and a stream of intelligence coming in about 

potential new attacks, my administration faced immediate 

challenges: We had to respond to the attack on our country. 

We had to wage an unprecedented war against an enemy unlike 

any we had fought before. We had to fi nd the terrorists hiding in America and across the world, before they were able to 

strike our country again. So in the early days and weeks aft er 

9/11, I directed our government’s senior national security offi -

cials to do everything in their power, within our laws, to prevent another attack.50

48 Morris Davis, “Unforgivable Behavior, Inadmissible Evidence,” The New York Times, 17 

February 2008, http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/17/opinion/17davis.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

(accessed 28 July 2008). 

49 Kramer, “The Water Cure: An American Debate on Torture and Counterinsurgency in the 

Philippines—a Century Ago.”

50 President George W. Bush, “President Discusses Creation of Military Commissions to 

Try Suspected Terrorists,” The White House, 6 September 2008, emphasis added, http://www.

whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2006/09/print/20060906-3.html (accessed 29 July 2008).
| 15

It is not surprising then to hear John Kiriakou repeat over and over “it’s a 

diff erent world,” in his interview with ABC’s Brian Ross, unconsciously applying the President’s theme of “exceptional” circumstances to the interrogation of 

suspected terrorists like Abu Zubaydah, “an enemy unlike any we had [faced] 

before.” “Al Qaeda is not like a World War Two German POW. It’s a diff erent 

world. Th ese guys hate us more than they love life.... You’re not gonna convince 

them that because you’re a nice guy and they can trust you and they have a rapport with you that they’re going to confess and—and give you their operations. 

It’s—it’s diff erent. It’s a diff erent world.”51

Unfortunately, though our enemies have changed over the years, the standard we must uphold in interrogations has not. Perhaps Senator John McCain, 

no stranger to torture as a POW in North Vietnam from 1967 to 1973, makes 

the strongest case for fi rm standards in intelligence interrogation. In a statement 

to the U.S. Senate in 2005 he said:

Th e intelligence we collect must be reliable and acquired 

humanely, under clear standards.... To do diff erently not only 

off ends our values as Americans, but undermines our war 

eff ort.... [Although] the enemy we fi ght has no respect for 

human life or human rights...this isn’t about who they are. 

Th is is about who we are. Th ese are the values that distinguish 

us from our enemies, and we can never, never allow our enemies to take those values away. 52

51 Transcript of interview with John Kiriakou by correspondent Brian Ross, 28, emphasis 

added.

52 Senator John McCain, “Statement of Senator John McCain Amendment on (1) the Army 

Field Manual and (2) Cruel, Inhumane, Degrading Treatment,” U.S. Senate, 4 November 2005, 

emphasis in the original, http://www.humanrightsfirst.info/pdf/05117-etn-mccain-stat-detainamdts-auth.pdf (accessed 29 July 2008).

| 17

Interrogation of Japanese

POWs in World War II:

U.S. Response to a

Formidable Challenge

Introduction

Th is study documents how the U.S. military overcame the challenges of 

recruiting and preparing Japanese interrogators for service in the Pacifi c Th eater 

and their remarkable accomplishments in conducting wartime interrogations. 

Despite numerous obstacles, the Army and Navy designed and implemented 

eff ective interrogation programs credited with shortening the Pacifi c war by 

two years. Many of the basic principles used to develop and execute these programs still apply today.

Th e primary objective of the study is to expand the U.S. Intelligence Community’s existing body of knowledge concerning interrogation approaches by 

illuminating past experiences. Numerous lessons can be drawn from the study; 

in fact, in some cases these lessons echo suggestions and recommendations 

made by successful interrogators during and immediately following World War 

II. Targeted recruitment eff orts and comprehensive language training, coupled 

with kind treatment and a thorough understanding of the enemy’s culture and 

psychology by U.S. military interrogators, enabled the U.S. military to penetrate 

the enemy’s psyche and obtain information vital to the war eff ort. 

Gathering vital intelligence through the interrogation of enemy prisoners is 

one of the greatest challenges our nation faces today in the struggle against terrorism. In many respects, the jihadists we confront in the Global War on Terrorism 

share many of the attributes of the fanatical enemy encountered in World War 

II—the Japanese soldier. During the weeks and months following Japan’s attack 

on Pearl Harbor, anti-Japanese hysteria spread throughout the U.S. and wartime 

propaganda fueled existing prejudices. Many Americans considered the Japanese 

uncivilized, treacherous fanatics. Th ey were savages or crazed samurai as ready 

to kill themselves as others.53 Th e Western media were frequently even more 

apocalyptic in their expressions. Th ey declared the war in Asia very diff erent from 

53 Ruth Benedict, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword: Patterns of Japanese Culture (Boston: 

First Mariner Books, 2005), viii. 
18 |

that in Europe, for Japan was a “racial menace” as well as a cultural and religious 

one, and if Japan proved victorious in the Pacifi c, there would be “perpetual war 

between Oriental ideals and Occidental.”54 At the time, the war was perceived as a 

true clash of civilizations and evidence of extremism illuminated the hostility and 

rage. In various areas of the U.S., Americans boycotted Japanese goods.55

Military and civilian leaders faced the diffi cult challenge of cutting through 

this wrath to develop realistic responses. Th is was particularly complicated, as 

many of these leaders shared the same emotions. Th e U.S. also faced the dilemma 

of understanding how this enemy would behave in a time of war and beyond. 

Th e Japanese soldier had many characteristics of an ideal fi ghting man. Among 

these qualities were courage, endurance, physical strength, no fear of death, and a 

fanatical sense of patriotism and loyalty to the Emperor.56 Still, many unanswered 

questions remained: Did the Japanese consider themselves a superior race? Would 

they surrender or fi ght to the last man? If captured, could they be convinced to 

talk? Leaders recognized that a more nuanced understanding of the culture and 

psychology of the Japanese would prove critical to the successful prosecution of 

the Second World War and the occupation that followed.

To complicate matters further, the U.S. faced an enemy who spoke a 

remarkably complex language. Japanese offi cers were not concerned about the 

security of their sensitive military communications because they thought Westerners could never learn to read and write Japanese, especially the abbreviated 

styles of writing known as gyosho and sosho.57 Th ese cursive styles of Japanese 

calligraphy are as similar to the printed Japanese character as a shorthand symbol is to an English word. To read and write anything beyond the simplest and 

most basic text, one needed knowledge of thousands of Chinese characters. To 

make matters worse, the written language was not just a visual representation of 

everyday spoken Japanese, but an intricate system that refl ected the infl uence of 

Chinese linguistic forms as well as older Japanese forms.58

54 John W. Dower, War Without Mercy: Race and Power in the Pacific War (New York: Pantheon 

Books, 1986), 7.

55 “Wartime Fanaticism,” Christian Science Monitor (1908 – Current file), 12 December 1941, 

24, accessed via ProQuest Historical Newspapers on 27 January 2007.

56 Hallett Abend, “Japan’s Soldiers—Unsoldierly Yet Fanatic,” The New York Times (1857 – 

Current file), 11 January 1942, SM12, accessed via ProQuest Historical Newspapers on 27 

January 2007.

57 “The Military Intelligence Service Language School,” n.d.; Correspondence and Reports 

Relating to the Operation of Language Schools, 1943-1949; Records of the War Department 

General and Special Staffs; Record Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD, 2. Cited hereafter as 

“The Military Intelligence Service Language School,” NARA.

58 Christopher Seeley, “The 20th Century Japanese Writing System: Reform and Change,” 

The Journal of Simplified Spelling Society J19 (1995), URL: <www.spellingsociety.org/journals/

j19/ japanese. php>, accessed 5 February 2007. 
| 19

At the time of the attack on Pearl Harbor, very few Americans of military 

age were fl uent in Japanese. Th e U.S. relied on previously trained military offi -

cers, Caucasian-Americans who had grown up and studied in Japan, and Nisei

(second generation Japanese-Americans living in the United States) to address 

this linguistic challenge. Employing Nisei presented the greater challenge, as 

many Americans doubted the Nisei could stand the decisive test of battle against 

their own race and blood. Civilian and military leaders were very suspicious of 

their loyalty. In fact, on 19 February 1942, President Roosevelt signed the infamous Executive Order (EO) 9066 authorizing the internment of tens of thousands of American citizens of Japanese ancestry. 

To develop a comprehensive understanding of Japanese psychology and 

culture, and address the growing need for qualifi ed linguists, the U.S. Army 

and Navy established separate Japanese language schools to train military interrogators and interpreters as they deployed military forces across the Pacifi c. 

Th roughout the war, prisoner of war (POW) interrogation played a crucial role 

in gathering valuable information about Japanese military operations and intentions. Many senior military offi cers believed that the Allied success in harvesting this crucial intelligence shortened the war eff ort by as much as two years.59

An evaluation of how U.S. military interrogation methods were used 

against the Japanese during World War II can assist in identifying costs and 

benefi ts associated with modern-day interrogation training and techniques 

applied during the Global War on Terrorism. In addition, it may help determine 

whether current U.S. military interrogation training refl ects changes in warfare and incorporates lessons learned from past confl icts. Th is study of World 

War II interrogation answers a critical question: What can we learn from the 

U.S. experience during World War II of recruiting and preparing interrogators 

and conducting interrogations of Japanese POWs that will inform current and 

future doctrine and practices related to educing information?

Some important historical and cultural context that infl uenced Japanese 

soldiers during the war will be provided. Th e objective is to provide the reader 

with a suffi cient understanding of Japanese thought processes and mental attitudes in order to appreciate the challenges U.S. interrogators faced in executing 

their mission. Th is brief historical review also provides insight into Japanese 

loyalty to the Emperor, the disgrace of surrender, and U.S. expectations of the 

prisoners’ implacability. 

Also important is the U.S. Army’s experience in preparing for and conducting interrogations of Japanese prisoners. It follows the evolution of the 

59 Edwin M. Nakasone, The Nisei Soldier: Historical Essays on World War II and the Korean War, 

2d rev. ed. (Brainerd: J-Press, 1999), 54.
20 |

Army’s Military Intelligence Service Language School (MISLS), where students 

received extensive training in language, interrogation, document translation, 

and cultural awareness. A wartime case study designed to illustrate the Army’s 

methodology is off ered.

Th e U.S. Navy developed a unique training approach. Th e historical progression of the Navy’s Oriental Language School is evaluated, along with details 

of the Navy’s methods of wartime interrogation. Another case study illustrates 

the Navy’s method. Th e essay concludes with an examination of the numerous 

lessons drawn from analysis of the Army and Navy case studies presented, plus 

recommendations for additional research.

Preliminary review of available literature reinforced the need to study the 

U.S. experience during World War II of recruiting and preparing linguists and 

conducting interrogations. Th e case study method was selected as a mechanism 

to examine and compare these events thoroughly. 

Robert K. Yin emphasizes the technically critical features of this strategy 

in his 2-part defi nition. Th e fi rst part begins with the “scope” of the case study: 

1. A case study is an empirical inquiry that

• investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real-life context, 

especially when

• the boundaries between phenomenon and context are not clearly 

evident.60

Second, because context and phenomenon are not always obvious in real-life 

situations, a set of technical characteristics, including data collection and data 

analysis strategies, completes the second half of Yin’s defi nition:

2. Th e case study inquiry

• copes with the technically distinctive situation in which there will be 

many more variables of interest than data points, and as one result 

• relies on multiple sources of evidence, with data needing to converge 

in a triangulating fashion, and as another result

• benefi ts from the prior development of theoretical propositions to 

guide data collection and analysis.61

Th e key point Yin makes is that the case study method is much more than 

a “logic of design,” as Jennifer Platt suggests in her historical overview of the 

case study in American methodological thought. Instead, it represents a delib60 Robert K. Yin, Case Study Research: Design and Methods (Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications, 2003), 13.

61 Yin, 13-14.
| 21

erate approach to covering contextual conditions, as well as the logic of design, 

data collection techniques, and specifi c approaches to data analysis.62

Th e Multiple-Case Design

Th is study employs a “multiple-case” or “comparative” design methodology, exploring two carefully selected cases to predict similar results (a literal replication) or contrasting results for predictable reasons (a theoretical replication). 

Th is method is oft en considered more robust than a single-case design, because 

the evidence is more compelling. On balance, the conduct of a multiple-case 

study oft en requires extensive resources and time beyond the means of a single 

investigator.63 Th e replication approach applied to this study is illustrated in 

Figure 2-1.

Asking the Right Question

Figure 2-1 indicates that the fi rst step in designing the study consists of 

posing a key research question: What can we learn from the U.S. experience 

during World War II of recruiting and preparing interrogators and conducting 

interrogations of Japanese POWs that will inform current and future doctrine 

and practices related to educing information?

62 Yin, 13-14.

63 Yin, 46-47.

Figure 2-1 Case Study Method.

Source: Author’s modified version of model put forth in Yin, 50. Used with permission of 

the publisher.

POSE AND DESIGN PREPARE, COLLECT, ANALYZE

ANALYZE &

CONCLUDE

Draw

Cross-case

Conclusions

Write

Cross-case

Report

Write Army

Case Report

Conduct

Army

Case Study

Write Navy

Case Report

Conduct

Navy

Case Study

Select

Cases

Design Data

Collections

Products

Posing

Research

Question
22 |

Case Selection and Data Collection 

Case selection and defi nition of specifi c data measures represent important steps in the design and data collection process. Two cases were chosen 

for analysis, the U.S. Army and the U.S. Navy, because during World War II 

the Army and Navy were the only U.S. military services recruiting, preparing, 

and employing military interrogators.64 For the purpose of this study, data 

collection protocols include an overview of the case study, fi eld procedures 

(access to case materials, sources of information, etc.), and specifi c case study 

questions. 

Th e study relied heavily on previously classifi ed archival records maintained at the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) in College Park, Maryland. Because of the Nazi War Crimes Disclosure Act of 1998, 

NARA made thousands of previously classifi ed U.S. military records (from 1939 

to 1976) available to the public. Th ese newly released records provide insight 

into U.S. military intelligence activities in the Pacifi c during World War II and 

the subsequent occupation of Japan. NARA’s declassifi cation eff orts enabled 

the author to gain access to reports, memoranda, policy documents, prisoner 

of war interrogation fi les, training records, various analytical products, and 

general topics of intelligence interest. To supplement the NARA records, a 

comprehensive oral history interview was conducted with a veteran interrogator from World War II to provide a fi rsthand, human interest perspective. 

Th e heart of the protocol encompasses a set of questions developed to 

guide the investigation, listed below as they relate to the case study project:

64 The Marine Corps employed U.S. military interrogators also, but they were organized 

under the Department of the Navy and, as such, were included in the Navy study.
| 23

Conducting and Writing the Cases

According to Yin, “Each individual case study consists of a ‘whole’ study, 

in which convergent evidence is sought regarding the facts and conclusions 

for the case; each case’s conclusions are then considered to be the information 

needing replication by other individual cases.”65 Th e fi rst case examines the 

Army’s approach to recruiting and training Nisei as linguists and interrogators. 

It off ers a general assessment of success or failure in convincing enemy prisoners to cooperate and provide information through direct interrogation methods. Th e second half of the study highlights the wartime experiences of one U.S. 

hero, Sergeant Grant Hirabayashi, a Japanese-American World War II veteran 

who served as a Military Intelligence Service interrogator. 

Th e second case illustrates the Navy’s contrasting approach of employing and educating American linguists. Unlike the Army, the Navy focused its 

recruitment and training eff orts on Caucasian-Americans. Aft er the Japanese 

attack at Pearl Harbor, the Navy refused to recruit Nisei, as the Army had done. 

A presentation of the Navy’s approach is followed by a summary of the experi65 Yin, 50.

Case Study Questions.

Source: Compiled by the Author.

• How did the Army or Navy project Japanese language requirements 

in the event of war with Japan?

• What methods of recruitment were employed by each service?

• How did Executive Order 9066 aff ect recruitment eff orts?

• How were U.S. military personnel trained in the Japanese language 

and interrogation?

• What sources of training material were used?

• Did they receive training in Japanese psychology and culture?

• What role did the Nisei have in training?

• How was training diff erent between the services?

• Were methods taught in the classroom employed in the fi eld?

• Was there debate over interrogation methods or techniques that 

were more “humane” than others?

• What interrogation methods were employed that proved most 

successful?

• What lessons learned might apply to current and future educing 

information doctrine?
24 |

ences of one of the school’s best-known graduates, Lieutenant Otis Cary, the 

son of a missionary, who was raised in Japan. Cary was commissioned in the 

U.S. Navy and went on to become one of the most highly successful and wellrespected interrogators during the Second World War. 

Cross-Case Conclusions and the Summary Report

Following the presentation of the Army and Navy cases, cross-case analysis completes the study. Th e overall summary report draws conclusions from 

the fi ndings and refl ects the results.

Spirit Warriors: Psychology and Culture of the Japanese

During World War II

Know your enemy and know yourself; in a hundred battles, 

you will never be defeated. When you are ignorant of the 

enemy but know yourself, your chances of winning or losing 

are equal. If ignorant both of your enemy and of yourself, you 

are sure to be defeated in every battle.

—Sun Tzu

Historical Setting

In the early 17th century, Ieyasu Tokugawa, a skilled warrior and fi rst 

Shogun of the Tokugawa Shogunate that ruled Japan as the true governing 

power until the 1868 Meiji Restoration, created a plan to bring lasting peace 

to the nation. His vision focused on a complete reordering of Japanese society 

and the expulsion of the gaijin (outside people). It resulted in Taihai (the “Great 

Peace”)—over 250 years without war. Japan became ideologically sealed, and for 

nearly two and a half centuries had no standing army or navy. Tokugawa held 

that large military forces were not necessary because his system guaranteed that 

no external or internal confl icts would occur. Th is amazing stretch of absolute 

peace was unmatched by any other country over a comparable period of time.66

Regrettably, it did not last.

By the mid-1800s, a look across the Sea of Japan made it clear that seclusion and tranquility were a thing of the past. Western merchants had exploited 

China and imposed opium on its citizens. Farther south, the Dutch had conquered Indonesia; the French ruled Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia; and the 

British held colonies in India, Burma, Malaya, Singapore, and Hong Kong. To 

66 James Bradley, Flyboys: A True Story of Courage (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 

2003), 17.
| 25

the north, Russia was growing in size and conquering everything in its path.67

It is no surprise that Japanese leaders felt obligated to build a strong military to 

protect their citizens and national sovereignty. 

When he came to the throne in 1868, Emperor Meiji declared an imperial “restoration” and stripped the Shogunate of its powers. As a result, a 

new era of Japanese society began. As in the early days of Japan’s history, the 

Emperor became a centerpiece of national life and a symbol that united the 

country ideologically. Emperor Meiji was determined to make Japan a strong 

and modern nation; however, isolationism was no longer an option for achieving that goal. 

In 1894-95, Japan invaded and defeated China, proving to the rest of the 

world that Japan was a powerful nation. Th e country’s military obsession did 

not end with China, but instead continued for nearly 50 years. On 7 December 1941, the Japanese launched the infamous attack on Pearl Harbor, which 

forced the U.S. into World War II—a confl ict that John Dower, professor of Japanese history at the University of California at San Diego, appropriately termed 

a “War Without Mercy.” Th e surprise attack and the ruthless war that followed 

presented unique challenges to educing information from enemy POWs. 

To appreciate the challenges faced by U.S. military interrogators in obtaining intelligence from enemy prisoners, it is necessary to examine briefl y the rich 

cultural history and psychology of the Japanese. For simplicity, this discussion 

is divided into four sections: the Emperor-tradition, the Japanese soldier and 

armed forces, the shame of capture and surrender, and the fear of torture.

Th e Emperor-Tradition

One of the critical questions regarding Japanese psychology concerned 

the head of the Imperial Family, Tennō (the Emperor). What control did His 

Majesty have over the Japanese people? Japan was clearly an Emperor-centered 

nation with an imperial line extending back farther than the royal line of any 

other country. Historically, Japan’s citizens viewed the Emperor as the rallying point of devotion and the radiating center of government.68 Th is general 

sense of unrestricted and unconditional loyalty to the Emperor by the Japanese 

people was a crucial concern that U.S. military forces needed to understand 

and address. 

67 Bradley, 24.

68 Sherwood F. Moran, Major, U.S. Marine Corps, “The Psychology of the Japanese,” 4 June 

1942; Training Records of MITC, Camp Ritchie, MD; Records of the War Department General 

and Special Staffs; Record Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD, 1. Cited hereafter as Moran, 

“The Psychology of the Japanese,” NARA.
26 |

Many Americans believed that the Emperor had been merely an indistinct fi gurehead throughout Japan’s seven feudal centuries. However, those 

who lived in Japan before World War II knew that nothing infuriated the Japanese, and reinforced their morale, more than a negative comment about the 

Emperor or an outright attack against him. Th e testimony of Japanese POWs 

confi rmed this assumption. Many POWs attributed their extreme militarism 

to the Emperor and claimed they were “carrying out his will” and “dying at the 

Emperor’s command.” As one prisoner explained, “Th e Emperor led the people 

into war and it was my duty to obey.”69

Th e idea that the entire population internalized this view was unprecedented by Western standards; however, prisoner interrogations clearly showed 

this was the unifi ed viewpoint of Japan, even aft er its defeat. Interrogators concluded early on in the war that it was unnecessary to write “Refuses to speak 

against the Emperor” on each interview record. In fact, a survey of POW interrogation records revealed only three interviews that were even mildly antiEmperor and only one prisoner went so far as to say, “It would be a mistake to 

leave the Emperor on the throne.”70

Th roughout the Meiji Restoration and the period leading up to the 

attack on Pearl Harbor, citizens received thorough conditioning from Japanese 

authorities on providing proper respect to the Emperor. For example, as a form 

of super-patriotism and super-nationalism, the Japanese government suggested 

that all public and private schools display a portrait of the Emperor inside their 

facilities. Th is was not just any photograph, framed and hung on the wall. Th is 

portrait had a certain size requirement, was specially prepared and furnished by 

the Department of Education, and was installed with a formal ceremony. Th e 

case surrounding the portrait had curtained doors and the Japanese considered 

it a shrine. Schools seldom opened the curtains, but during formal ceremonies 

they were drawn and students were required to bow in unison at the direction 

of the staff . As time went on, the imperial portrait assumed even greater signifi cance and the government required schools to house the photograph in an 

entirely separate fi reproof building. Th is was costly to the schools and took up 

additional space.71

Th e Japanese Soldier and Armed Forces

On 14 December 1941, in a letter to Th e Washington Post titled “Our 

Enemy’s Strength,” Seymour DeKoven wrote, “Th e other night Lieutenant 

Commander Gene Tunney said something over the air that should make all 

69 Benedict, 29-31. 

70 Benedict, 32.

71 Moran, “The Psychology of the Japanese,” NARA, 5-6.
| 27

Americans more aware of what lies ahead than most of what we’ve been hearing of late...He emphasized the fact that the Japs are not only not going to be a 

pushover, but that unless we learn to modify greatly some of our fi ghting ethics, 

we may be in for some severe disappointments.” Th e author goes on to describe 

the Japanese soldier as having “been trained for decades to be the most ruthless 

death-dealer on earth.” He says, “Th e nearest things to [the Japanese soldier] 

might be a Nazi or a jungle head-hunter; but even these latter pale into insignifi -

cance when compared with the warrior of the Rising Sun.”72

Th e Japanese Soldier

Th e true warriors and backbone of the Japanese armed services were the 

simple country boys. Th eir superiors commonly referred to these draft ees as 

“issen gorin.” Issen gorin meant “one yen, fi ve rin”—the cost of mailing a draft 

notice – less than a penny. For most, basic military training resembled a brutal 

gulag and, in many regards, the Japanese Army they served was like a feudal 

slave system. At the top were the imperial offi cers, who demanded the highest 

level of respect. “Th e offi cer class in general had the status and authority of feudal lords. Th e privates, especially the new recruits, were at the miserable bottom 

of the pyramid. Th ey had no human rights. Th ey were non-persons.”73 “Brutality and cruelty were the rule rather than the exception in the Japanese army. It 

was the last primitive infantry army of modern times.” Offi cers would slap, kick 

and beat new recruits on a daily basis.74

Since a new recruit’s former life on the farm was rigorous and physically 

demanding, the transition to military life was not overly challenging. Moreover, 

once he completed training, he became one of the “Emperor’s soldiers,” establishing him as a model of perfection and discipline within the nation. Th e fact 

that each soldier wore the uniform of his Emperor raised his status in his own 

estimation and in that of his fellow citizens. In keeping with the ethics of his 

spiritual belief, he considered himself endowed with superhuman power.75

On the battlefi eld, the typical Japanese soldier wore the standard-issue 

olive-green uniform and a dome-shaped steel helmet. Inside the helmet was a 

Rising Sun fl ag presented to the soldier by his friends before leaving home and 

inscribed with their names. He also wore a bellyband, or Senninbari (a belt of 

72 Seymour DeKoven, “Our Enemy’s Strength,” The Washington Post (1877 – 1990), 21 

December 1941, B6, accessed via ProQuest Historical Newspapers on 21 February 2007.

73 Bradley, 37.

74 Bradley, 39.

75 H.S. Sewell, Brigadier General, U.S. Army, “The Japanese Soldier,” June 1944; Office of 

the Director of Intelligence Correspondence and Reports; Records of the War Department General and Special Staffs; Record Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD, 2. Cited hereafter as 

Sewell, “The Japanese Soldier,” NARA.
28 |

a thousand stitches), which conferred invulnerability, each stitch having been 

sewn by a diff erent person while he or she prayed for the well-being of the 

wearer.76

In addition to their standard equipment, most soldiers carried a copy of 

the Imperial Rescript of 1882, the offi cial code of ethics for Japanese military 

personnel. On January 4, 1882, Emperor Meiji presented this document to the 

Army Minister in a special ceremony held at the Imperial Palace. Th is action 

symbolized the personal bond between the Emperor and the military, making 

the military, in eff ect, the Emperor’s personal army. By design, the code stressed 

absolute personal loyalty to the Emperor, which calls to mind one prominent 

image of loyalty and sacrifi ce—that of the “Kamikaze” pilot.

Th e Kamikaze Pilot

In the latter stages of the war, particularly in the Okinawa campaign, 

the Japanese Air Force was in dire straits and knew Allied forces were close 

to invading the Japanese mainland. To compensate for their military inferiority, the Japanese resorted to the most fanatical forms of defense. Th e employment of “Kamikaze” or suicide attacks proved to be the most extreme form of 

these measures. When Genghis Khan’s invading fl eet threatened their homeland in the thirteenth century, a “divine wind” drove him back and overturned 

his ships, but this time the Japanese contrived a “divine wind” of their own—the 

Kamikaze or Special Attack Corps. 

In 1944, a Japanese Army plane attacked a ship near the Andaman Islands 

in the Bay of Bengal. When the pilot ran out of bombs without achieving any 

hits, he decided to do his part for the Emperor by fl ying his plane into the target. A Japanese garrison on a neighboring island watched the event unfold, 

including the resulting explosion, and saw the plane, pilot, and ship disappear. 

Th ereaft er, word reached Imperial Headquarters that a secret weapon had been 

discovered.77

Lieutenant Colonel Naomichi Jin, a staff offi cer at Imperial General 

Headquarters and a Japanese intelligence offi cer on Okinawa during the war, 

explained to his interrogators, “I think there were four main reasons” the Japanese used suicide units: 

(1) Th ere were no prospects of victory in the air by employment of 

orthodox methods.

76 Sewell, “The Japanese Soldier,” NARA, 1.

77 Headquarters Army Air Forces, Mission Accomplished: Interrogation of Japanese Industrial, 

Military, and Civil Leaders of World War II (Washington, DC: GPO, 1946), 34. Cited hereafter as 

HAAF, Mission Accomplished.
| 29

(2) Suicide attacks were more eff ective because the power of impact of 

the plane was added to that of the bomb, besides which the exploding 

gasoline caused fi re—further, achievement of the proper angle eff ected 

greater speed and accuracy than that of normal bombing.

(3) Suicide attacks provided spiritual inspiration to the ground units and 

to the Japanese public at large.

(4) Suicide attack was the only sure and reliable type of attack at the time 

such attacks were made (as they had to be) with personnel whose training 

had been limited because of shortage of fuel.78

Lieutenant General Masakazu Kawabe, former Commanding General, 

Deputy Chief of the Army General Staff , and Director of Kamikaze Operations 

during the Philippine and Okinawa Campaigns, told his interrogators following 

the occupation of Japan, “Th e Japanese to the very end, believed that by spiritual means they could fi ght on equal terms with you, yet by any other comparison it would not appear equal. We believed our spiritual confi dences in victory 

would balance any scientifi c advantages and we had no intention of giving up 

the fi ght.” General Kawabe also cautioned, “I wish to explain something, which 

is a very diffi cult thing and which you may not be able to understand. You call 

our Kamikaze attacks ‘suicide’ attacks. Th is is a misnomer and we feel very badly 

about you calling them ‘suicide’ attacks. Th ey were in no sense ‘suicide.’ Th e 

pilot did not start out on his mission with the intention of committing suicide. 

He looked upon himself as a human bomb, which would destroy a certain part 

of the enemy fl eet for his country. Th ey considered it a glorious thing, while suicide may not be so glorious.”79 Based on their ethics and spiritual beliefs, Kamikaze pilots and the traditional Japanese soldier proved formidable adversaries 

against the U.S. and its Allies. 

Th e Japanese Armed Forces

Major Sherwood F. Moran, a U.S. Marine interrogator who joined the 

Corps in 1942 at the age of 57, aft er spending the previous 20 years in Japan, 

described three groups of Japanese men whom he referred to as the true “hellbent military”: 

(1) Certain higher offi cers, professional fi re-eaters, such as Admiral 

Suetsugu and General Araki, to mention just two; holding high motives 

according to their limited light, and thinking of nothing but the national 

prestige of a Greater Japan, and their Emperor’s expanding glory.

78 HAAF, Mission Accomplished, 34.

79 HAAF, Mission Accomplished, 35.
30 |

(2) Groups of younger offi cers, particularly of the army, itching for action, 

thinking they could “lick the world,” contemptuous of democracy and 

modern international obligations, whose only code they express with the 

phrase the “Imperial Way” (Kodo). 

(3) Fanatics among the laymen, narrow super-patriots, ranting against any 

spirit of internationalism, taking the Emperor-myth literally, and witchhunting for any who do not swallow it whole. Th e Black Dragon Society80

with the elderly fanatic, Tomaya, in Tokyo, is a primary spark plug of this 

group.81

Moran explained that these three groups would stop at nothing to accomplish their ends, even against their own government. In fact, a few years before 

the war, one of the young offi cers described above killed one of the highest 

offi cers in the Army, the Inspector General of Military Training, with his own 

sword. Th e young offi cer declared the Inspector was negligent in his duties in 

that he did not adequately realize the grievous conditions into which the country was heading. Moreover, the young offi cer argued that in a time of emergency 

and danger to the fundamental principles of the Imperial Way the Inspector 

had no right to hold a position of such importance in His Majesty’s armed services. Regrettably, this group of “hell-bent” military fanatics supplied the leaders who controlled Japan during the Second World War and were responsible 

for selling the war to its people.82

Th e Shame of Capture and Surrender

While American forces succeeded in capturing and interrogating some 

Japanese prisoners, most soldiers fought to the death or committed hara-kari

(seppuku).83 As the Imperial Army and Navy fell on the defensive and began to 

face defeat in all theaters of the war, groups of armed forces began to kill fellow 

citizens and take their own lives in desperate acts of suicide. U.S. soldiers witnessed the all-too-familiar “banzai charge” and the reluctance of the Japanese to 

surrender in battle aft er battle, from Guadalcanal to Tokyo.84

On 9 July 1944, to the horror of American troops advancing on Saipan, 

mothers clutching their babies hurled themselves off the cliff s to avoid capture. 

Not only were there virtually no survivors of the 30,000-strong Japanese garri80 The Black Dragon Society was a prominent paramilitary, ultra-nationalist right-wing 

group in Japan during the early to mid-1900s.

81 Moran, “The Psychology of the Japanese,” NARA, 13.

82 Moran, “The Psychology of the Japanese,” NARA, 13.

83 Seppuku was the more elegant term for suicide according to the samurai code. Warriors 

would kill them themselves by piercing their abdomen. In feudal times, this was the exclusive 

privilege of the nobles and samurai.

84 Dower, 45.
| 31

son on Saipan, two out of every three civilians—some 22,000 in all – also died.85

Th e Saipan operation, however, represented the Americans’ fi rst experience in 

the Pacifi c area in handling a large number of POWs, and they did it without 

developing a detailed plan before the campaign. Interrogators had to persuade 

a large percentage of the prisoners to come out of caves, dugouts, and other hiding places.86

Several distinct beliefs infl uenced the decisions of Japanese soldiers and 

civilians regarding surrender and required a commensurate approach by interrogators. By and large, Japanese citizens feared their family and country would 

disown them and they would become outcasts. Th is belief system could be traced 

back to three contributing factors of daily life: Shinto, Hoko, and Bushido.87

Shinto (Way of the Gods) 

Among the most prominent factors that shaped the attitude of the Japanese people was Shintoism, the native religion of Japan and the offi cial state religion until the end of World War II. It involved the worship of several diff erent 

Kami (gods). Th e term Shinto was coined in the sixth century using the Chinese 

characters shen (divine being) and tao (the way). As such, Shinto is commonly 

translated as, “Th e Way of the Gods.” Th e origins of Shinto are blurred in the fog 

of the prehistory of Japan. Th e religion has no founder, no offi cial sacred scriptures, and no fi xed system or doctrine.88 In eff ect, Shinto provided the underlying value orientation of the Japanese people that formed the foundation of their 

culture and overall way of thinking. 

Th e Kojiki, referred to in English as the “Records of Ancient Matters,” 

maintained that the Japanese people were direct descendants of Amaterasu, 

the sun goddess, who created Japan. Amaterasu populated this “divine” nation 

through her direct descendant Jimmu, Japan’s fi rst Emperor. According to 

mythology, Emperor Jimmu assumed the throne in 660 B.C. Fundamentally, 

therefore, the Shinto religion is based on the belief that the Japanese people are 

85 David Powers, “Japan: No Surrender in World War Two,” BBC (June 2001), online report, 

URL: <www.bbc.co.uk/history/worldwars/wwtwo/japan_no_surrender_01.shtml>, accessed 22 

February 2007. Cited hereafter as Powers, “No Surrender in World War Two.”

86 W.A. Tracy, Captain, Headquarters, Army Ground Forces, Assistant Ground Adjutant General, memorandum to the Commanding Generals, subject: “Intelligence Extracts of Special 

Action Reports - Saipan,” 319.1/172, 24 January 1945; Correspondence and Reports Relating 

to the Operation of Language Schools, 1943 – 1949; Records of the War Department General 

and Special Staffs; Record Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD, 3. Cited hereafter as Tracy, 

“Intelligence Extracts of Special Action Reports - Saipan,” 319.1/172, NARA.

87 “The Psychology of Surrender and the Psychological Approach to Interrogation,” 14 

August 1946; Office of the Director of Intelligence Correspondence and Reports; Records of 

the War Department General and Special Staffs; Record Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD, 

2. Cited hereafter as “The Psychology of Surrender and the Psychological Approach to Interrogation,” NARA.

88 The Oxford Dictionary of World Religions, 1997, under the term “Shinto.”
32 |

direct descendants of the sun goddess, and therefore divine. According to this 

belief, the Emperor was the highest-ranking divine person and thereby god of 

the Japanese people. 

Hoko

Hoko, or the communal “spy-hostage” system, was the structure that 

made all members of every group of ten neighboring houses punishable for a 

crime or the failure to report any wrongdoing. Th ere was a “warden” for each 

house, each group of ten houses, and each group of 100 houses. Th ese wardens 

had to be acceptable to the police and were actually spy-hostages who ensured 

all required measures were carried out. 

Hui-Yu Caroline Ts’ai, a student at Columbia University in New York, 

wrote a doctoral dissertation centered on the functional organization, development structure, and operational mobilization of the Hoko system. Hui-Yu 

began the study by examining the system as a political mechanism for social 

control. During peacetime, the system evolved into an “administrative base for 

local governments.” In the 1930s, Japan used the system as a vehicle for its wartime mobilization. Hui-Yu concludes, however, that the Hoko system should be 

regarded as a social organization as well as a political institution. As such, “the 

Hoko functioned largely within a moral society; the organization relied heavily on the mediating role of a local elite, which shared a set of values based 

on acknowledged status and established trust with the rest of society.” Consequently, “the system worked less for social reform than for social control and 

mobilization.”89

Bushido (Way of the Samurai)

Along with the religious foundation of Japanese culture, the Japanese 

developed a unique set of laws during the 11th and 13th centuries known as 

Bushido. Th is code of conduct involved blind loyalty to superiors, disregard of 

death in carrying out duty, and continuous attack climaxed by annihilating the 

enemy in hand-to-hand combat. It taught all Japanese from birth the principles 

of honor, courage, loyalty, the ability to endure pain, self-sacrifi ce, reverence 

for the Emperor, and contempt of death.90 Th e principles of the Bushido code 

formed an integral part of Japan’s national identity and its citizens were indoctrinated with the idea that to die for the Emperor was the most glorious achievement to which they could aspire.

89 Hui-Yu Caroline Ts’ai, One Kind of Control: The ‘Hoko’ System in Taiwan Under Japanese 

Rule, 1895-1945, online Ph.D. Dissertation (New York: Columbia University, 1990), URL: <digitalcommons.libraries.columbia.edu/dissertations/AAI9127988/>, accessed 14 June 2007.

90 Nakasone, 75.
| 33

Because of the teachings of Shinto, Hoko, and Bushido, the Japanese soldier did not even consider surrender until the instinct of self-preservation overcame his beliefs. As evident from the small number of Japanese prisoners taken 

during the war, the majority of Japanese soldiers preferred death to capture. 

Th ose who did surrender always feared the unknown, and many believed that 

Americans would kill or torture them. 

Fear of Torture

In a report dated June 1945, the U.S. Offi ce of War Information (OWI) 

noted that 84 percent of one group of interrogated Japanese prisoners (many 

of them injured or unconscious when captured) said they expected to be killed 

or tortured by the Allies if taken prisoner. Th e OWI analyst described this as 

typical, and concluded that fear of the consequences of surrender, “rather than 

Bushido,” was the motivation for many Japanese battle deaths in hopeless circumstances.91 As such, fear of torture may have contributed equally or even 

more than the previously mentioned factors. 

Evidence obtained through interrogation of enemy prisoners suggested 

this fear was not a result of propaganda by the Japanese military but instead 

arose because most Japanese soldiers had previously served in China and witnessed atrocities fi rsthand.92 Th e Japanese truly believed the Chinese guerrilla 

forces took no prisoners, and those captured were tortured and put to death. 

Th e Japanese considered the Chinese to be masters in the art of torture. Aft er 

training and serving under these conditions in China for years, as many Japanese soldiers had, it is hardly surprising these troops expected such a fate, 

regardless of the opponent. 

Actions by U.S. Marine and Army soldiers did little to change this perception. Reports indicated the Japanese were known to come out of the jungle 

unarmed with their hands raised above their heads, crying, “Mercy, mercy,” 

only to be mowed down by machine-gun fi re.93 In many battles, neither U.S. 

soldiers nor their commanders wanted to take POWs. Th ough not offi cial policy, it was common practice in the Pacifi c. On one occasion, a Marine Raider 

Battalion on patrol stumbled across a Japanese hospital bivouac area and killed 

over 400, including patients and corpsmen. During this attack, U.S. Marines 

took no prisoners. American forces justifi ed this behavior on the basis of stories 

of Japanese treachery. It was rumored that Japanese soldiers would approach 

91 Dower, 68.

92 Burden, “Interrogation of Japanese Prisoners in the Southwest Pacific: Intelligence Memo 

No. 4,” NARA, 10. 

93 Burden, “Interrogation of Japanese Prisoners in the Southwest Pacific: Intelligence Memo 

No. 4,” NARA, 10.
34 |

American lines indicating surrender and ultimately attack using hand grenades 

when U.S. forces were in range. Another story told of a wounded Japanese soldier who drew a grenade from his pocket while being transported on a stretcher 

by four American soldiers, and pulled the pin to detonate the device.94

Conclusion

During World War II, the confl ict in Asia diff ered greatly from that in 

Europe, for Japan was considered to be a “racial menace” as well as a cultural 

and religious one. If Japan proved victorious in the Pacifi c, there would be “perpetual war between Oriental ideals and Occidental.”95 At the time, the confl ict 

was perceived as a true clash of civilizations. 

Th e U.S. thus faced the dilemma of understanding how this enemy would 

behave in a time of war and beyond. Th e “divine” citizens of Japan truly believed 

they were a superior race and forged a powerful sense of super-patriotism. Th ey 

were raised in a society that prohibited free thought and one in which outside 

infl uence was severely limited based on strict immigration laws. Th e addition of 

national loyalty to the Emperor and a strong sense of military fanaticism created 

a cohesive nation whose morale and spirit seemed impossible to undermine. 

U.S. military interrogators confronted the remarkably diffi cult challenge 

of harvesting vital intelligence from an enemy who would rather fi ght to the 

death or commit hara-kari (ritualized form of suicide) to avoid capture. A thorough understanding of the rich cultural history and psychology of the Japanese 

was critical to the collection of human intelligence and to the successful prosecution of the Second World War and the Allied occupation that followed.

94 Burden, “Interrogation of Japanese Prisoners in the Southwest Pacific: Intelligence 

Memo No. 4,” NARA, 10.

95 Dower, 7.
| 35

Secret Soldiers: Japanese-American Interrogators Serving in 

the U.S. Army During World War II

One of the great lessons that the Army learned from the last war 

is the tremendous value of intelligence. Lack of knowledge of the 

enemy can lead to catastrophe. Eff orts to increase have led to the 

establishment of many agencies and specialties, which were little 

known prior to the war. Th ese consist of the techniques of photographic interpretation, prisoner of war interrogation, exploitation of signal intelligence, the use of airplanes to gain information, 

Counterintelligence Corps activities, operation behind the enemy 

lines, and your own specialty of lnguage interpretation. Each one 

of these specialties has played a vital role in winning the war, and 

it is not exaggerated to say that the rapid progression of military 

events in the Pacifi c was assisted in no small measure by the 

timely and accurate intelligence produced by Japanese linguists, 

most of whom are graduates of this school.

Graduation speech presented to the fi nal class of Military 

Intelligence Service Language School students, Fort Snelling, 

Minnesota, 8 June 1946

Forecasting Language Requirements

Before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, a small group of U.S. Army 

offi cers working within the War Department’s General Staff recognized that few 

Americans, military or civilian, could speak the Japanese language. As tensions 

rose between the U.S. and Japan, these former language offi cers realized the 

U.S. needed qualifi ed Japanese linguists if the country were to successfully prosecute a war against Japan. Japanese offi cers had boasted the security of Japanese 

military documents posed no problem at all, as Westerners could never learn 

to read or write Japanese, especially the abbreviated style of writing known as 

sosho (Japanese “fl uid grass” style).96

As tensions escalated, the military had little time to train non-Japanesespeaking personnel. In June 1941, Major Carlisle C. Dusenbury, a former 

Japanese language student working in the Intelligence Division of the War 

Department, suggested using Nisei to solve the linguist problem. Lieutenant 

Colonel Wallace Moore, a former missionary who had served in Japan, agreed 

96 “The Military Intelligence Service Language School,” NARA, 2.
36 |

and subsequently planned the organization of the Army’s fi rst Japanese language school.97

Th e decision to employ Nisei personnel was considered risky since many 

in the U.S., including senior leadership within the Department of the Navy, 

felt they were not trustworthy. Like other Americans, Nisei were subject to the 

draft of 1940, and many were serving in the Army when the Japanese attacked 

Pearl Harbor. Shortly aft er the attack, many Nisei soldiers were discharged and 

reclassifi ed as enemy aliens. Moreover, aft er the war broke out, some Nisei

learned their family members were trapped in Japan for the remainder of the 

war. Although U.S. citizens, the Japanese government treated them as Japanese 

nationals and many were forced to serve in the Japanese armed forces.98

To inaugurate the new school, Lieutenant Colonel (later Lieutenant 

General) John Weckerling, a linguist and former military attaché in Tokyo, 

was recalled from duty in Panama. His assistant, Captain (later Colonel) Kai 

Rasmussen, a West Point graduate, had also served as a military attaché in 

Tokyo.99 Since the majority of Japanese-Americans lived on the West Coast of 

the U.S. at the time, Colonel Weckerling and Captain Rasmussen decided to 

open the school in California. Th eir fi rst task was to locate and recruit qualifi ed 

students. 

In a survey of nearly 4,000 Nisei, Colonel Weckerling and Captain Rasmussen discovered that very few had advanced language skills. It was soon 

evident that many Nisei had become “too” Americanized and that those who 

did speak Japanese had little or no training in military vocabulary or special 

forms of Japanese writing. On one of the screening tours of Nisei already serving in the military, John Fujio Aiso, who was very profi cient in Japanese, was 

discovered. Aiso was a cum laude graduate of Brown University and received a 

juris doctorate from Harvard. He had studied legal Japanese at Chuo University 

while working as an attorney for British businesses in Japan. Ironically, the U.S. 

Army was using him as an enlisted mechanic in a motor maintenance battalion, although he knew little about mechanics. Weckerling and Rasmussen chose 

Aiso as their Director of Academic Training.100 Aiso became the heart and soul 

of the new school, bringing his language skills and cultural understanding of his 

97 Richard S. Oguro, Sempai Gumi: Manuscript Collection of the First Group of Americans of 

Japanese Ancestry from Hawaii and American Concentration Camps to Attend Army Language School 

at Camp Savage, Minnesota, Library of Etsu and Mike Masaoka and the University of Utah 

Libraries, Salt Lake City, Utah, 42.

98 Ulrich Straus, Anguish of Surrender: Japanese POWs of World War II (Seattle: University of 

Washington Press, 2003), 95-96.

99 Lyn Crost, Honor by Fire: Japanese Americans at War in Europe and the Pacific (Novato: Presidio Press, 1994), 22.

100 Crost, 23.
| 37

Japanese ancestors. In addition to Aiso, Weckerling and Rasmussen discovered 

three other highly qualifi ed Japanese-American civilians eager to help launch 

the new school: Akira Oshida, Tetsuo Imagawa, and Shigeya Kihara.101

Fourth Army Intelligence School

On 1 November 1941, the Fourth Army Intelligence School began 

operations in an abandoned airplane hangar on Crissy Field at the Presidio of 

San Francisco. Th e War Department began its fi rst Japanese language course 

with eight instructors and 60 students. 58 of the students were Nisei, and two 

were Caucasians who had studied Japanese at the University of California and 

the University of Washington.102 Th e War Department allocated a meager 

$2,000 budget for the new program and essentials needed for instruction were 

extremely scarce.103

36 days aft er classes began, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Immediately following the attack, the War Department issued an order that Nisei 

were not allowed to serve overseas. Since the policy would have crippled the 

Army’s eff ort to employ Nisei linguists, advocates on the G-2 staff fought back in 

101 Crost, 23.

102 “The Military Intelligence Service Language School,” NARA, 4.

103 Nobuo Furuiye and Clarke M. Brandt, I am MIS (Aurora: Defense Printing Service, 1999), 

17.

Nisei Soldier of the Military Intelligence Service at their lessons in the former 

Airmail Hangar at Crissy Field.

Source: National Japanese American Historical Society, San Francisco, California. With 

permission, granted 14 May 2008.
38 |

response and the War Department rescinded the order, allowing the new school 

to proceed as planned.

In May 1942, the fi rst class graduated 45 of its 60 original students; 15 dropped 

the program aft er failing to meet academic standards. Th e Army deployed all but 

ten of the enlisted students to combat zones in small teams. Th e remaining ten, all 

Kibei (a Nisei sent by his or her parents at a young age to be educated in Japan), 

stayed on as instructors.104 Th e foundation of the Army’s language program rested 

on the rich heritage and cultural experience of these original Kibei instructors. 

Executive Order 9066 Relocates Japanese

On 19 February 1942, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed his controversial EO 9066 authorizing the internment of Japanese-Americans. Shortly thereaft er, all U.S. citizens of Japanese descent were prohibited from living, working, or 

traveling on the Pacifi c Coast. Initially, the exclusion was designed to be a voluntary relocation, but the policy failed and eventually the U.S. Army forcibly removed 

these citizens from their homes. Lieutenant General John L. DeWitt, the Fourth 

Army’s West Coast military commander responsible for ordering the evacuation, 

was quoted as saying, “A Jap is a Jap. It makes no diff erence whether the Jap is a 

citizen or not.”105

Many of the citizens removed were eventually allowed to leave the camps 

to join the Army, attend college, or pursue private employment outside the West 

Coast. In fact, over 33,000 Japanese-Americans joined the armed forces, many 

serving honorably in the Military Intelligence Service (MIS).106 A larger number of internees spent the war years behind barbed wire until the order was lift ed 

in December 1944. EO 9066 ultimately led to the detention of 120,000 JapaneseAmericans and Japanese residents of the U.S. Th is made the task of recruiting additional students and instructors from within the military and civilian communities 

extremely challenging.

Military Intelligence Training Center:

Camp Ritchie, Maryland

On 19 June 1942, shortly aft er President Roosevelt signed EO 9066, the 

War Department activated the Military Intelligence Training Center (MITC) 

at Camp Ritchie, Maryland, to off er specialized intelligence training for qualifi ed commissioned and enlisted personnel (including Nisei). Th e regular course 

104 Furuiye and Brandt, 18.

105 “The Japanese-Americans,” The Washington Post (1974-Current file), 15 July 1981, A22, 

accessed via ProQuest Historical Newspapers on 16 January 2007. 

106 “The Japanese-Americans,” 15 July 1981.
| 39

of instruction was eight weeks long and divided into three sections: General 

Instruction, Specialized Instruction, and Terrain Exercises.107

Th e “general instruction” consisted of basic military intelligence training 

provided to all students as follows:108

1. Terrain Intelligence 50 hours

2. Signal Intelligence 25 hours

3. Staff Duties 51 hours

4. Counterintelligence in Th eater of Operation 21 hours

5. Enemy Armies 42 hours

6. Aerial Photo Interpretation 28 hours

7. Military Intelligence Interpreters and Foreign Maps 28 hours

8. Combat and Operations 27 hours

9. Visual Demonstration Included above

10. Order of Battle Included above

Th e “specialized instruction” consisted of unique training given to qualifi ed groups concurrently with the “general instruction,” which included 82 

hours of instruction in the following areas:109

1. Interrogation of Enemy Prisoners of War and Identifi cation 

and Translation of Documents

2. Aerial Photo Interpretation

3. Military Intelligence Interpreters (Allied and neutral)

4. Terrain Intelligence

5. Signal Intelligence 

107 Charles Y. Banfill, Brigadier General, Commandant, Military Intelligence Training Center, 

G-2, memorandum to the Deputy Assistant Chief of Staff, G-2, subject: “Brief of Pertinent Facts 

and Data Concerning the Military Intelligence Training Center, Camp Ritchie, Maryland,” 3 June 

1944; Training Records of the MITC; Records of the War Department General and Special Staffs, 

Records Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD. Cited hereafter as Banfill, “Brief of Pertinent Facts 

and Data Concerning the Military Intelligence Training Center, Camp Ritchie, Maryland,” NARA. 

108 Banfill, “Brief of Pertinent Facts and Data Concerning the Military Intelligence Training 

Center, Camp Ritchie, Maryland,” NARA, 2.

109 Banfill, “Brief of Pertinent Facts and Data Concerning the Military Intelligence Training 

Center, Camp Ritchie, Maryland,” NARA, 2.
40 |

Aft er 265 hours of general instruction and 82 hours of specialized training, 

students participated in an 8-day “terrain exercise.” During this training period, students completed 20 intelligence-related problem-and-solution exercises, a 48-hour 

patrol, and night compass training. Students assumed the roles of various intelligence positions and rotated through each position to enable diverse training.110

Th e “Visual Demonstration Section” of the training center was particularly interesting. Th e section was comprised of professional actors who presented 

a number of theatrical demonstrations to emphasize the most important intelligence lessons. Among the performances was one play focused on POW interrogation designed to illustrate the correct and incorrect methods of search, segregation, 

and interrogation. By June 1944, the War Department provided this production to 

approximately 150,000 personnel in Army Maneuver Areas, Special Service Schools, 

the Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, and the U.S. Marine Base at Quantico, Virginia.111

Another production presented by the Visual Demonstration Section staff 

was a 3-scene play titled “A Scrap of Paper.” Th e cast included a Caucasian Language/Interrogation Team Captain and a Nisei Language/Interrogation Team Sergeant. Th e stage was set on the island of Formosa (Taiwan). At the beginning of the 

play, the lights in the theater were dimmed and a spotlight illuminated a Japanese 

soldier standing center stage at the position of attention. Th e announcer began:112

Th is is a Jap! Th is is the enemy! Perhaps the chief weapon a 

soldier can have against his enemy is knowledge of him. Th is 

demonstration penetrates into some aspects of his thinking 

and behavior. Th e Jap is a person! Th e Jap is a soldier (lights 

fade and soldier disappears).

Th is is a story of a scrap of paper...a Japanese attack order, 

from the moment it was written to the time when information 

obtained from it aided our forces in reducing a vital enemy 

strong-point. Observe the Japanese military behavior, his 

relationship to people, both his own and others. Watch how a 

Language Team handles a Japanese prisoner. Notice how the 

various Intelligence agencies operate in close liaison to make 

more eff ective their individual jobs. Observe all this...”

110 Banfill, “Brief of Pertinent Facts and Data Concerning the Military Intelligence Training 

Center, Camp Ritchie, Maryland,” NARA, 2.

111 Banfill, “Brief of Pertinent Facts and Data Concerning the Military Intelligence Training 

Center, Camp Ritchie, Maryland,” NARA, 4.

112 “A Scrap of Paper,” M14.1, 30 May 1945; Training Records of the MITC; Records of the 

War Department General and Special Staffs, Records Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD. 

Cited hereafter as “A Scrap of Paper,” M14.1, NARA.
| 41

As the play progresses, the storyline demonstrates the emphasis military leaders placed on humane treatment of Japanese prisoners and the vital 

importance of the Nisei to the war and their loyalty to America. During one 

exchange between the Caucasian interrogator and another U.S. military offi -

cer, the interrogator said, “You can’t interrogate a Jap as you would an Italian 

or a German...here, our humaneness must be shown. Kindness...just...simple 

kindness...that’s how you get a Jap to talk.”113 Equally important, this play illustrates a unique method of training presented to U.S. service members during 

the Second World War.

Military Intelligence Service Language School: Camp Savage

Because of EO 9066, the Fourth Army Intelligence School was forced to 

move to Camp Savage, Minnesota, in June 1941. In fact, the school had outgrown its facilities at the Presidio of San Francisco and needed to relocate to a 

community that would accept Japanese-American citizens. Except for Governor 

Harold Stassen of Minnesota, every western state governor rejected the transfer 

of Japanese-Americans to their areas.114 Colonel Rasmussen, the school’s Commandant, said, “We needed room—not just physical room, but room in people’s 

hearts. We could work here without interruption, or prejudice, or bias.”115

Th e War Department assumed control of the institution and renamed it 

the Military Intelligence Service Language School (MISLS). Th e Army recalled 

Colonel Weckerling to Washington to serve on the intelligence staff and Captain 

Rasmussen remained in charge of the school. Th e MISLS was charged with:

1. Operating a Japanese language school at Camp Savage 

to prepare Interpreter-Interrogator-Translator Teams and 

individual Japanese linguists for duty with United States 

fi eld forces and other special assignments as directed by the 

Assistant Chief of Staff , G-2.

2. Operating a radio station at Camp Savage to train personnel 

in radio intercept, radio monitoring, and voice broadcast.

3. Operating an Army language school at the University of 

Michigan in Ann Arbor to provide offi cers, warrant offi cers, 

and enlisted men with instruction in the Japanese language 

prior to assignment at Camp Savage.

113 “A Scrap of Paper,” M14.1, NARA, 20.

114 Crost, 25.

115 “Eyes and Ears of Allied Pacific Drive: Nisei Won Spurs – and Medals,” ProQuest Historical Newspapers Christian Science Monitor (1908-1993), 9 Nov 1945, 11, accessed via ProQuest 

Historical Newspapers on 17 January 2007. 
4. Providing intelligence training to educate intelligence specialists in their duties as intelligence team members (i.e., 

the collection, evaluation, and dissemination of military 

intelligence).

5. Conducting courses in specialized intelligence.

6. Coordinating activities with sister and allied services.

7. Making certain students, previously approved by the G-2, 

available for special missions.

8. Maintaining a complete up-to-date intelligence library on 

activities in all Pacifi c Th eaters.

9. Conducting experiments in order to develop new methods 

of intelligence procedure and instruction techniques, off ering 

a basis for improvement.

10. Maintaining a pool of trained language offi cers.116

Th e greatest challenge the MISLS faced aft er moving to Camp Savage was 

locating and recruiting an adequate number of students to carry on the recently 

expanded program. Evacuation from the West Coast had been completed and 

thousands of Japanese-Americans were relocated to internment camps across 

the U.S. Within these relocation camps, loyal Nisei and pro-Japanese elements 

found themselves in violent confl ict over support for the war. Pro-Japanese elements apparently dominated the relocation centers and loyal Nisei were reluctant to volunteer for Army service. Furthermore, the Nisei felt that placing them 

and their families in camps surrounded by barbed wire and patrolled by armed 

soldiers violated their rights as U.S. citizens. Aft er the War Department implemented the policy of recruiting Japanese-American volunteers, many believed 

the school would never meet its projected goals.117

116 Clayton Bissell, Major General, Assistant Chief of Staff, G-2, memorandum to the Commandant, Military Intelligence Service Language School, subject: “Policy Directive, Military 

Intelligence Service Language School,” MID 908, 22 March 1944; Office of the Director of Intelligence Correspondence and Reports; Records of the War Department General and Special 

Staffs, Records Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD.

117 “The Military Intelligence Service Language School,” NARA, 6.
| 43

Recruitment of Nisei Linguists

Th e military’s need to recruit personnel profi cient in the Japanese language for use as translators and interrogators had reached a critical stage. Japanese was arguably one of the most diffi cult languages in the world and very few 

Caucasian-Americans were profi cient. Moreover, almost no one was qualifi ed 

to translate the language. 

Based on experience gained in the training and utilization of Nisei interpreter, translator, and interrogation teams in the school’s fi rst year, along with 

reports and observations from the Pacifi c Th eaters, the Army estimated that 

unfi lled future demands would reach about 650 Caucasian offi cers and 2,850 

enlisted. Th e enlisted estimates were based primarily on Nisei personnel, and 

included expected casualties and necessary replacements.118 Th e total suggested a coming shift of U.S. strength toward Japan and away from Europe. It 

included the need for a source of qualifi ed personnel who could support additional establishments within the U.S. vital to the war eff ort. 

By early 1943, the Army had furnished Japanese linguists to Great Britain, Australia, New Zealand, the U.S. Marine Corps, and others lacking qualifi ed personnel. Th e War Department conservatively projected that specially 

selected Caucasian-Americans required at least two years to learn the language 

well enough to meet military requirements.119 However, the U.S. Navy would 

prove that qualifi ed linguists could be trained in 12 months. 

Nisei living in the U.S. and Hawaii formed the only pool from which 

future linguists could be drawn without an unacceptable, long-term training delay. When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, approximately 126,000 

persons of Japanese ancestry were living in the continental U.S. and 157,000 

in Hawaii. In early 1944 the War Department estimated there were about 900 

male Japanese-Americans suitable for intelligence training from all untapped 

sources.120 Offi cials believed Japanese-American soldiers would fi nd genu118 Kai E. Rasmussen, Colonel, Commandant, MISLS, memorandum to the Assistant Chief 

of Staff, G-2, subject: “Future Requirements of Language Specialists (Japanese),” 20 March 

1944; Office of the Director of Intelligence Correspondence and Reports; Records of the War 

Department General and Special Staffs, Records Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD. 

119 Clayton Bissell, Major General, Assistant Chief of Staff, G-2, memorandum to the Chief 

of Staff, subject: “Procurement of Personnel Proficient in Japanese Language for Employment 

as Translators, Interpreters and Interrogators,” MID 350.03 (Japanese), 22 March 1944; Office 

of the Director of Intelligence Correspondence and Reports; Records of the War Department 

General and Special Staffs, Records Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD. Cited hereafter as 

Bissell, “Procurement of Personnel Proficient in Japanese Language for Employment as Translators, Interpreters and Interrogators,” MID 350.03 (Japanese), NARA.

120 Bissell, “Procurement of Personnel Proficient in Japanese Language for Employment 

as Translators, Interpreters and Interrogators,” MID 350.03 (Japanese), NARA.
44 |

ine acceptance as translators, interpreters, and interrogators in combat areas 

overseas, as well as in offi ces within the U.S. 

Given these statistics, the Assistant Chief of Staff for Intelligence urged the 

senior staff to exercise great care so that the small fraction of personnel qualifi ed 

for development as interrogators and translators would be reserved for this purpose. Th ere were no other practical solutions for meeting the U.S. Army’s requirement for such specialists. However, the War Department did propose the use of 

Japanese-American women to replace male translators in the U.S. and theater 

rear areas.121 Th e Army estimated it could obtain 300 qualifi ed Japanese-American women for this purpose and on 10 April 1944 the Secretary of War approved 

the recommendation.122 Shortly thereaft er, the Army recruited the fi rst Nisei

women into the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC) and assigned them 

to the MISLS at Fort Snelling, Minnesota, where the school relocated in August 

1944 aft er outgrowing its space at Camp Savage. Following graduation, several 

remained at the school as instructors; others were assigned to Camp Ritchie, 

Maryland, at the Pacifi c Military Intelligence Research Section (PACMIRS) and, 

later, to a document translation center in Washington, DC, where they worked 

with translators from allied countries deciphering Japanese diaries, journals, 

manuals, and books. Aft er the war ended, 11 Nisei WAACs served in Japan at the 

Allied Translator and Interpreter Service (ATIS), a joint U.S. and Australian intelligence element under the command of General MacArthur.123

Eventually, between the male and female Nisei, the Army had enough volunteers to meet its requirements. Th e loyal Nisei who did volunteer confronted 

both emotional and physical hardships—in many cases, their Issei (fi rst-generation) parents disowned them and pro-Japanese elements within the relocation centers physically attacked them because of their decision. Regardless, they 

reported by the hundreds. Many of the early volunteers were well over the age 

of 30, fl uent in Japanese, and had an intense desire to clear themselves of any 

suspicions of disloyalty to America.124

Military Intelligence Service Language School: Fort Snelling

By the time the MISLS moved from Camp Savage to Fort Snelling, the 

Army’s recruiting eff orts had paid off and the school had nearly 3,000 students. 

Th ey were primarily Nisei, although there were Caucasian offi cer candidates and a 

121 Bissell, “Procurement of Personnel Proficient in Japanese Language for Employment 

as Translators, Interpreters and Interrogators,” MID 350.03 (Japanese), NARA. 

122 Bissell, “Procurement of Personnel Proficient in Japanese Language for Employment 

as Translators, Interpreters and Interrogators,” MID 350.03 (Japanese), NARA.

123 Brenda L. Moore, Serving our Country: Japanese American Women in the Military During 

World War II (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2003), 93-123.

124 “The Military Intelligence Service Language School,” NARA, 6.
| 45

few enlisted men of Chinese and Korean descent. Th e teaching staff included 162 

civilian and military members and was composed entirely of Nisei born in the U.S. 

or the Hawaiian Islands.125 Th e campus consisted of 125 classrooms along with 

the usual administrative support facilities and barracks. In addition to the language 

training section, the school had translation, research, and liaison sections.

Th e MISLS routine and classroom studies were extremely demanding and 

constituted total immersion in the Japanese language. When students arrived at the 

school, they were immediately given language aptitude tests and then divided into 

22 diff erent class levels. Th e curriculum consisted of translation of textbooks from 

Japanese to English; learning military terminology; interrogating POWs (roleplaying); translating intercepted radio communications and captured documents; 

and learning about Japanese culture, customs, and national characteristics.126

Monday through Friday, 8:00 a.m. until 5:00 p.m. and 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 

p.m., were devoted to classroom instruction. Th e staff reserved Saturdays for 

examinations and the “school of the soldier” – traditional military-related train125 “The Military Intelligence Service Language School,” NARA, 7.

126 Grant Hirabayashi, graduate of the Military Intelligence Service Language School and 

Military Intelligence Service interrogator during World War II, interview by the author, 27 January 2007. Cited hereafter as Hirabayashi, interview by the author, 27 January 2007. 

Japanese-American language students at Fort Snelling.

Source: St. Paul Dispatch & Pioneer Press, 1945.
46 |

ing.127 In preparation for examinations, many students stayed up well past their 

10:00 p.m. “lights out” curfew to resume their studies in the latrine. “At one time, 

they had to place a guard [at the latrine], to accommodate those who went there 

for legitimate reasons,” recalled Sergeant Grant Hirabayashi, a veteran World War 

II interrogator and a 1942 graduate of the school.128 Sunday was a day of rest.

By the end of the war, nearly 6,000 interpreters and interrogators had completed advanced military intelligence and language training at the MISLS. Most 

of the students were Japanese-American, including a number of female Nisei volunteers who served in the WAAC. Upon graduation, these linguists were ordered 

to various assignments within the Military Intelligence Service, the predecessor 

of the current U.S. Army Intelligence and Security Command (INSCOM). Th eir 

duties consisted of interrogation, translation, radio intercept, radio monitoring, 

and psychological warfare. Graduates worked quietly with American combat 

teams at Guadalcanal, Attu, New Georgia, New Britain, the Philippines, Okinawa, Burma, India, China, and Tokyo itself during the occupation. Th eir eff orts 

saved countless lives and accelerated the U.S. victory in the Pacifi c.

127 Nakasone, 58.

128 Hirabayashi, interview by the author, 27 January 2007.

Southwest Pacific Area during World War II.

Source: U.S. Army Center of Military History.
| 47

In July 1946, the school returned to what would be its fi nal home at the 

Presidio of Monterey, California, the current home of the Defense Language 

Institute Foreign Language Center. During a graduation ceremony, Major 

General Clayton Bissell, Chief of the Military Intelligence Division of the War 

Department General Staff , aft er reviewing the exploits of MISLS graduates, said, 

“If you Japanese-Americans are ever questioned as to your loyalty, don’t even 

bother to reply. Th e magnifi cent work of the graduates of the Military Intelligence Service Language School in the fi eld has been seen by your fellow Americans of many racial extractions. Th eir testimony to your gallant deeds under fi re 

will speak so loudly that you need not answer.”129

Sergeant Grant Jiro Hirabayashi:

MISLS, Class No. SAV '42-12

129 “The Military Intelligence Service Language School,” NARA, 7.

Grant Jiro Hirabayashi, Chungking, China, 1945.

Source: Library of Congress, Experiencing War: Grant Jiro 

Hirabayashi, URL:<1cweb2.loc.gov/cocoon/vhp-stories/loc.

natlib.afc2001001.28498/>, accessed 20 May 2007.
48 |

One distinguished MISLS alumnus, Sergeant Grant Hirabayashi, a top 

graduate of the class of 1942 at Camp Savage, shared his experiences as an 

American of Japanese ancestry serving the Army as a Military Intelligence Service interrogator during World War II. Hirabayashi, a native of Kent, Washington, enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Corps three days before the Japanese attack 

on Pearl Harbor with hopes of becoming an airplane mechanic.130 When he 

reported to Jeff erson Barracks in St. Louis, Missouri, the Army placed him in 

protective custody and confi ned him along with 22 other Japanese-American 

soldiers. Th is was necessary since Caucasian service members harassed the 

Nisei, forcing the Army to segregate them into separate examination rooms. It 

also provided the FBI an opportunity to conduct background investigations to 

determine if the Nisei posed a threat to national security. At the time, the government had discharged numerous Japanese-American service members and 

reclassifi ed them as enemy aliens. Th e Army stripped those who remained, like 

Hirabayashi, of their weapons and relegated them to menial jobs until the background investigations were complete. 

Aft er 40 days, the Army released Hirabayashi and assigned him to his 

unit, where he worked as a fl ight clerk and a plans and training technician. In 

mid-1942, Hirabayashi was released from the Air Corps and reassigned to Fort 

Leavenworth Station Hospital, Kansas, where he served as a sick and wounded 

clerk. Unfortunately, he was never able to attend airplane mechanic school. 

Shortly aft er beginning his new job, Hirabayashi received a letter from Colonel 

Kai Rasmussen, Commandant of the MISLS at Camp Savage, Minnesota, asking for his resume with an emphasis on his Japanese language education. 

Hirabayashi was a Kibei (an American citizen of Japanese ancestry who 

received his primary education in Japan before returning to the U.S.). When he 

was a young boy living in Washington State, he had a conversation with two of 

his closest friends about their experiences visiting Japan during summer vacation. Th ey talked about how the Japanese drove on the wrong side of the street, 

slept on the fl oor, took off their shoes when entering their houses, and used 

an abacus to perform mathematical operations. Th is discussion aroused his 

curiosity and inspired him to travel to Japan himself to have the same experience his friends had. Aft er much determination, he fi nally convinced his father 

to send him to chugakko (Japanese middle school) with the understanding he 

would study for two years in Japan. When young Grant entered chugakko, his 

father told him his return ticket would be forthcoming aft er he fi nished school. 

In 1940, aft er eight years of education in Japan, he graduated. At the time, his 

brother, who was attending Kyoto Imperial University, warned him relations 

130 Hirabayashi, interview by the author, 27 January 2007. This section was derived 

entirely, unless otherwise noted, from the aforementioned interview with Mr. Hirabayashi.
| 49

between the United States and Japan were deteriorating and that Grant should 

return home, which he did.

Shortly aft er receiving the request from Colonel Rasmussen, Hirabayashi 

mailed off his resume and was subsequently reassigned to the MISLS at Camp 

Savage. Aft er six months of intense language, culture, and intelligence-related 

training, he applied for leave to visit his family. Regrettably, his parents and siblings were no longer living at home in Washington State. Soon aft er the war 

broke out on 7 December 1941, they had been forcibly evacuated to the Tule 

Lake internment camp in the northern California desert—the largest and most 

controversial of the ten War Relocation Authority camps used to carry out the 

U.S. government’s system of exclusion and detention of persons of Japanese 

descent.

When Hirabayashi arrived at the camp, he was shocked to see rows and 

rows of tarpaper barracks behind a perimeter of barbed wire. Th e feature that 

troubled him most was that the armed sentries who were guarding the compound were wearing the same uniform he was and facing inward instead of out. 

Although his visit was brief, he described this event as one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life. He was understandably very confused to fi nd himself, an American soldier who had taken an oath to uphold the Constitution of 

the United States and fi ght for liberty and justice, agonizing over the treatment 

of his family. Remarkably, his parents encouraged him to serve honorably and 

do his part as a U.S. citizen in defending the nation. It was aft er this visit that 

Hirabayashi said he understood the true meaning of freedom and completely 

realized the challenge ahead.

Aft er returning from leave, Hirabayashi relocated to Fort Snelling along 

with several other recent MISLS graduates awaiting overseas assignment. 

Shortly aft er his arrival, he learned about a call for volunteers for what President Franklin D. Roosevelt described as “a dangerous and hazardous mission.” 

Over 200 graduates stepped forward to answer the call and the Army selected 

Hirabayashi, along with 13 other Japanese-Americans, based on their physical 

stamina and command of the Japanese language, to serve in the Burma Campaign under the command of Brigadier General Frank D. Merrill. Th e unit was 

christened “Merrill’s Marauders” and offi cially designated the 5307th Composite Unit (Provisional)—codenamed Galahad. 

Merrill’s Marauders was an elite commando unit responsible for clearing North Burma of Japanese military forces and capturing the town of Myitkyina and its strategic airfi eld. Control of the town ensured the free fl ow of war 

materials by air and surface to Chinese nationalist forces. Over seven months, 

the Marauders fought their way through 700 miles of Burmese jungle and 

achieved their mission. Th ey defeated the Japanese 18th Division, the con-
50 |

querors of Malaya and Singapore, in fi ve decisive battles and over 30 smaller 

engagements.

Armed with his fi rsthand knowledge of the Japanese language and culture, along with the intense training he received at MISLS, Hirabayashi served 

General Merrill as a Military Intelligence Service interrogator responsible for 

collecting enemy information crucial to the successful prosecution of the Burma 

campaign. Surprisingly, he was nearly disqualifi ed from combat duty aft er discovering he was allergic to K-rations, the primary source of sustenance for an 

Army soldier, and he fractured his arm during jungle warfare training in India. 

When the unit declared he was unfi t for combat duty, Hirabayashi pleaded with 

his commander to be allowed to stay on, which was eventually granted.

China-Burma-India Theater during World War II.

Source: U.S. Army Center of Military History.
| 51

Th roughout the campaign, Hirabayashi interrogated dozens of enemy 

prisoners. His approach was simple; he always treated POWs with kindness 

and dignity. First, he made sure prisoners received proper medical care. He frequently off ered them cigarettes and asked if they had heard from their families 

and been able to communicate with them. Many wept because of this unexpected treatment. Hirabayashi explained that prisoners truly believed that U.S. 

soldiers were going to kill them and noted that the POWs were completely 

unaware of the rights aff orded to them under the rules of international law, codifi ed in the Geneva Convention Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, 

27 July 1929 (the Geneva Convention of 1929). Th e convention set guidelines 

on how POWs were to be treated by their captors. Th e U.S. ratifi ed this convention and recognized the rights of all prisoners. Th e Japanese, however, decided 

not to ratify the treaty because, “according to the Imperial soldier’s belief, it was 

contrary to all expectations that he might become a prisoner”—a belief codifi ed in Japanese Bushido.131 Th e Japanese believed that, while the international 

treaty was technically reciprocal, in practice only Japan would have to assume 

obligations under the treaty. Japan would have to provide food and housing for 

prisoners, while other countries were spared this obligation since there would 

be no Japanese prisoners. In their eyes, this made the Geneva Convention a 

unilateral agreement.132

Hirabayashi explained that throughout his time as a student in the Japanese school system he had never once heard about the Geneva Convention 

and explained, “[Students] were always told to destroy themselves before they 

were captured, so they didn’t know how to act as a POW.” Prisoners were genuinely ashamed concerning their status as an enemy prisoner and this was at the 

forefront of their minds. “Knowing how the Japanese POWs felt, I was able to 

empathize with them by treating them as equals,” he said.

In 2007 Hirabayashi called to mind one interrogation from nearly 65 

years ago. Late one evening during the Battle of Myitkyina, U.S. soldiers delivered a Japanese lieutenant on a stretcher for interrogation. Th e Gurkhas, a 

highly respected group of elite Indian soldiers, had captured the Japanese offi -

cer, and when he attempted to escape they stabbed him with a bayonet three 

diff erent times in his buttocks, arm, and thigh. Consequently, the prisoner was 

severely wounded and covered in blood. As it was late and the prisoner required 

medical attention, Hirabayashi instructed the military policemen (MPs) to take 

the prisoner to the fi rst aid station and bring him back the next morning for 

questioning. 

131 Straus, 21.

132 Straus, 21.
52 |

Th e next morning, the MPs returned the POW for interrogation. Hirabayashi sat him down and began the interview. When asked if he had received 

proper medical care, the Japanese offi cer responded, “You’re a traitor.” Th e prisoner’s response stunned Hirabayashi, who countered, “If we were to cut our 

veins, the same blood would fl ow.” Hirabayashi told the prisoner, “I am an 

American soldier. I’m an American fi ghting for my country and you are fi ghting for your country.” He continued with the interrogation, but the Japanese 

lieutenant refused to respond. At one point, Hirabayashi raised his voice and, 

again, the prisoner responded, “You’re a traitor.” Seeing the interview was going 

nowhere, Hirabayashi had a guard remove the POW and place him in the center of the enlisted man’s stockade.

Sometime later, Hirabayashi approached the prisoner inside the stockade 

and the offi cer tugged at his trousers and pleaded, “Mr. Interpreter, I want to 

die.” Hirabayashi asked him how he wished to die and he responded, “I want to 

be shot.” He told the offi cer he did not have any bullets to waste on him, but that 

they had captured a sword from another Japanese offi cer and he could use it to 

demonstrate how to commit hara-kari. He then left . Hirabayashi returned half 

an hour later and the prisoner admitted he had experienced a change of heart. 

He asked Hirabayashi to release him from the stockade and promised that, in 

return, he would cooperate during the interview. From that point forward, the 

Japanese offi cer answered all the questions he was asked.

Th e next day, Hirabayashi ran into his offi cer-in-charge (OIC), who told 

him, “Grant, that’s what the old man was looking for.” He was referring to the 

intelligence information Hirabayashi developed the day before during the interrogation of the Japanese lieutenant. Hirabayashi said he never followed up on 

the comment, but recalled this was the fi rst time he had received any feedback 

following a prisoner interrogation. “Normally...they interrogate, they write a 

report, they submit it, and that’s it. You seldom received feedback.”

On 10 August 1944, following victory in the battle of Myitkyina, the 

Marauders’ mission was complete and the unit disbanded. Brigadier General 

Merrill concluded, “As for the value of the Nisei, I couldn’t have gotten along 

without them.”133 Hirabayashi returned to India and was sent to the Southeast 

Asia Translation and Interrogation Center (SEATIC) in New Delhi. At SEATIC, 

he was assigned to the British Royal Air Force, where he provided translation 

and interrogation services. Later, the Army reassigned him to the Sino Translation and Interrogation Center (SINTIC) in Chungking, China, as the senior 

interrogator in charge of Japanese Air Force POWs.

133 “Campaigns of the Pacific” collection, National Japanese American Historical Society

website, URL: <www.nikkeiheritage.org/misnorcal/campaigns/campaigns_cbi.htm#merrill>, accessed 

7 May 2007.
| 53

Hirabayashi recalled that during his tour at SINTIC he interrogated 

another POW, a scientist who had reported that Japan had been researching and 

developing an atomic weapon. During the interrogation, the scientist pushed a 

small Chinese matchbox in front of Hirabayashi and told him the bomb was 

that small and capable of destroying an entire city. Th e prisoner explained that 

the research was being conducted at both Imperial Universities in Tokyo and 

Kyoto, and at Osaka University. He continued to describe the technical aspects 

of the bomb, but Hirabayashi soon found the discussion beyond his level of 

technical comprehension. Aft er reporting the interrogation to his superiors in 

hopes of obtaining assistance in developing further details, they dismissed the 

report as ludicrous.

World War II ended while Hirabayashi was stationed in Chungking. Five 

days before the offi cial surrender took place aboard the USS Missouri on 13 

September 1945, the Army ordered him to Nanking, China, to serve as personal 

interpreter to Brigadier General McClure, the U.S. observer to the Japanese surrender ceremony in China. Hirabayashi stated, “It was a short, simple and dignifi ed ceremony. It ended with General Ho Ying-chin’s radio announcement to 

the Chinese people of a successful conclusion of the surrender ceremony and of 

a dawn of peace on earth.”

Upon his discharge from the Army on 8 November 1945, Hirabayashi 

returned to Minneapolis, Minnesota, and took an instructor position with the 

MISLS at Fort Snelling and later at Monterey, California. Following his service 

at the schoolhouse, he transferred to the Supreme Commander for the Allied 

Powers (SCAP) Legal Section, Tokyo, Japan, in November 1947 and worked 

with the War Crimes Tribunal located in Yokohama. He functioned as an interpreter, translator, interrogator, court interpreter, and court monitor. Upon completion of the trials, he served with the War Crimes Parole Board. In essence, his 

career had come full circle: he functioned fi rst as an interrogator of war crimes 

suspects, was then responsible for apprehending them, and fi nally performed as 

an offi cer with the parole board. 

Aft er his lengthy deployment in the Pacifi c, Hirabayashi decided it was 

time to return to the U.S. to take advantage of the GI Bill. Aft er earning a Bachelor and Master of Arts in International Relations from the University of Southern California, he served with the Department of State, Cultural Exchange 

Program, Library of Congress, and retired from the National Security Agency 

in 1979. Today, Mr. Hirabayashi is an active member of the Japanese-American Veterans Association, which promotes the spirit of patriotism and national 

pride among the younger generation, particularly those of Japanese ancestry.
54 |

Sharper than the Sword: U.S. Navy Interrogators in the 

Pacifi c During World War II

Knowledge of Japanese will be not only a weapon in wartime, 

but also a powerful means of establishing international relations again when peace returns.

—Florence Walne,

 Director of the Oriental Language Department,

 University of Colorado at Boulder

Scarcity of Japanese Linguists

Th e Navy’s language program was much smaller than the Army’s and, as 

noted earlier, employed an entirely diff erent strategy in recruiting and training Japanese linguists. Th e Navy focused its recruitment eff orts on male Caucasians who had previously lived and studied in Japan, were college graduates, and 

were between the ages of 20 and 30. Additionally, the Navy targeted university 

students with a distinct aptitude for linguistics and individuals of high intelligence.134 Unlike the Army, the Navy refused to consider Japanese-Americans 

for its program, presumably because of the attitude of the Navy’s senior leaders 

following the attack on Pearl Harbor.

In essence, the Navy streamlined a 3-year language course off ered to 

U.S. military attachés in Tokyo since the early 1920s into 12 months of intense 

class work in the U.S. Th e school was of incalculable value to the nation during 

World War II and the occupation of Japan that followed. Graduates also played 

a crucial role in gathering vital intelligence regarding Japanese intentions and 

operations through interrogation of POWs.

By December 1940 the U.S. Navy had realized that, although the U.S. 

was on the verge of war with Japan, the number of Naval offi cers competent 

in Japanese was woefully inadequate. Th e Navy had been sending its offi cers to 

a 3-year language program in Tokyo since 1922, but only 65 offi cers had completed the course by the end of 1940, and of those only a dozen were regarded 

as “fully profi cient” in written and spoken Japanese. It was discouraging that 

only 12 out of over 200,000 sailors serving at the time were qualifi ed to speak 

and write Japanese. Equally disappointing was that the Navy had no system 

134 Lieutenant Albert E. Hindmarsh, the architect of the Navy’s Japanese language program, commonly referred to the school’s recruits as “Phi Beta Kappa caliber.” Phi Beta Kappa 

is an academic honor society founded at the College of William and Mary on 5 December 1776. 

Because of its rich history and selectivity, Phi Beta Kappa is generally considered the most 

prestigious American college honor society and membership is one of the highest honors that 

can be conferred on undergraduate liberal arts and science students.
| 55

to identify or track civilian employees profi cient in Japanese. At the time, six 

American universities were off ering Japanese language courses; however, the 

Navy believed they were impractical for the military’s purposes due to their 

length and focus on the arts.135

A Revolutionary Vision

In early December 1940, Lieutenant Albert E. Hindmarsh, a U.S. Naval 

Reserve (USNR) offi cer, brought this situation to the attention of the Offi ce of 

Naval Intelligence (ONI). Hindmarsh suggested the Navy conduct a nationwide 

survey of Japanese linguists, with a short-term goal of developing a new Japanese language program for the Department of the Navy. He envisioned a program designed to produce junior USNR offi cers capable of reading, writing, 

and speaking Japanese at a level suffi cient to meet the Navy’s potential wartime 

needs. 

Between March and June 1941, Hindmarsh identifi ed 600 men in the 

U.S. who “allegedly” possessed knowledge of the Chinese or Japanese language. 

Aft er initial testing, half of those identifi ed were found to be unqualifi ed. Of the 

remaining 300, only 65 were recognized as having the necessary background 

and required level of profi ciency to form the foundation of the Navy’s Japanese 

language program. Each civilian selected was a white, male, native-born U.S. 

citizen, who volunteered, once identifi ed, to serve in the Navy. Most had previously resided and studied in Japan or China, had college degrees, and were 

between 20 and 30 years old.136

In July 1941, Hindmarsh attended a conference at Cornell University of 

all Japanese language teachers in the U.S. along with representatives from the 

Army, the FBI, the American Council of Learned Societies, and the Rockefeller 

Foundation. Th e conference discussed the various methods and techniques for 

teaching Japanese at the seven universities represented. At the conclusion of 

the conference, it was obvious that the universities were confused about how 

to develop an eff ective Japanese language program. Teachers complained about 

the scarcity of teaching materials, the lack of students, and alleged lack of interest on the part of the government. At the time, only 60 Caucasian students were 

studying Japanese in the U.S. and nearly all were studying the language from 

a literary, artistic, or philosophical point of view. Th is approach fell short of 

meeting the government’s need for students with a practical working knowledge of the language. Consequently, Hindmarsh outlined a 12-month course 

135 Albert E. Hindmarsh, Commander, USNR, “Navy School of Oriental Languages: History, Organization and Administration,” n.d.; Historical Files of Navy Training Activities; Records 

of the Bureau of Naval Personnel, Records Group 24; NARA, College Park, MD. 

136 Hindmarsh, 2. 
56 |

designed to produce competent interrogators and translators. His plan specifi ed 

the necessary teaching materials as well as a detailed day-by-day curriculum. 

Although the comprehensive plan impressed the teachers, they were skeptical 

such a course could be taught outside Japan.137

Navy School of Oriental Languages

On 26 August 1941, the U.S. Navy approved a plan to establish two training centers, one at Harvard University, the other at the University of California, 

Berkeley. Serge Elisseeff , chairman of the Oriental Languages Department and a 

recognized scholar in oriental languages, led the program at Harvard. At Berkeley, 

Florence Walne, head of the Department of Oriental Languages, a Radcliff e graduate and longtime resident of Japan, directed the studies. By late September 1941, 

both universities signed contracts governing relations between them and the Navy.

Initially, the Navy invited 56 students to take the intensive language program, which would qualify them as Japanese interpreters and translators. During 

the 12-month program, students were classifi ed fi rst as “naval agents” under a civilian contract and, as soon as it became feasible (typically aft er the fi rst month), they 

were inducted as yeomen second-class, V-4, USNR, and placed on active duty.138

In either status, the Navy paid students approximately $125 per month throughout 

the duration of the language program. When the students completed the course 

successfully, the Navy commissioned them as ensigns I-V(S), USNR.139

Th e Naganuma Japanese Language Course

Because of inadequate teaching materials at the universities, the Navy 

provided textbooks prepared by Naoe Naganuma, a Japanese professor who had 

trained language offi cers in Tokyo since the early 1920s. Th ese readers served as 

the foundation for the Navy’s intensive set of courses.140

Th e Navy had been sending its prospective Japanese Language Offi cers 

to Japan, providing them a special “allowance” to locate a teacher and fund 

their education. By about 1925, several students had clustered around one 

teacher, Naoe Naganuma; all the Naval offi cers eventually became his students. 

Naganuma made teaching Japanese a profession, and in 1929 he published 

the fi rst three volumes of a carefully planned curriculum. He later published 

another four volumes, which comprised an entire 3-year course. He called the 

137 Hindmarsh, 3.

138 Navy Department, Bureau of Navigation, “Establishment of Japanese Language Course 

of Instruction at Harvard University and the University of California at Berkeley,” 26 August 

1941; Historical Files of Navy Training Activities; Records of the Bureau of Naval Personnel, 

Records Group 24; NARA, College Park, MD.

139 Hindmarsh, 3-4.

140 Hindmarsh, 3. 
| 57

course “Hyojun Nihongo Tokuhon,” or “Standard Japanese Readers.”141 Th e 

U.S. Naval Attaché in Tokyo sent 50 complete sets of the course to the U.S. Th e 

Navy immediately reproduced the materials and provided them to the universities for the beginning of class on 1 October 1941.142

Th e Naganuma course normally required three years in Tokyo, but the 

Navy streamlined the program into 12 months of intense class work in the U.S. 

Th e nature of the new version was quite diff erent from any academic language program off ered at the time. Students worked 14 hours a day, six days a week, 50 weeks 

per year. Aft er the fi rst few lessons, professors eliminated all classroom discussions 

in English. Th e program required students to use Japanese outside the classroom as 

well. At least one meal a day had to be Japanese and be served by a Japanese waiter. 

In addition, the universities required students to watch Japanese movies for entertainment. Finally, the student newspaper, school song, and daily radio broadcasts 

were all presented in Japanese.143 Th e two universities limited their class sizes to 

four or fi ve students per teacher, largely recruited from the Nisei population. 

During the last two weeks of the program, the schools introduced the students to special materials designed to familiarize them with Japanese military 

and naval terms. In addition to the Naganuma language readers, the Navy provided supplementary materials to compensate for the lack of military instruction given during the program. Where one or two dictionaries were suffi cient 

for most Western languages, Japanese presented additional problems. Instead 

of one or two dictionaries, the Navy provided each student an entire reference 

library with approximately 20 volumes of material. In addition to normal dictionaries, these texts included special dictionaries containing military and naval 

terms; scientifi c, engineering, and other specialized vocabularies; books of Japanese surnames and given names; and reading material on the Japanese Navy, 

Japanese geography, and sosho, the Japanese cursive style of writing.

As one might imagine, the process for recruiting students was very selective. Th e Navy focused its eff orts on the brightest college-educated men with 

a distinct proclivity for language. Others had backgrounds in Japan as newspapermen, missionaries, diplomatic staff members, and students. Nearly all 

had bachelor’s degrees, some had master’s degrees, and a few even had earned 

doctorates.144

141 Hindmarsh, 5.

142 Hindmarsh, 3.

143 Hindmarsh, 6-8.

144 “Colorful Commencement Held For Naval Japanese Language Students,” Boulder Camera, 

16 January 1943, 1. Original newspaper clipping obtained from Historical Files of Navy Training 

Activities; Records of the Bureau of Naval Personnel, Records Group 24; NARA, College Park, 

MD. 
58 |

Harvard University

Th e course at Harvard proved unsuccessful because Professor Elisseeff 

did not follow the Navy’s proposed plan. From the beginning, he was reluctant 

to use the Navy’s materials, as he had just published a Japanese language text of 

his own and was eager to advance its use. In February 1942, aft er conducting an 

inspection of the entire program, the Navy decided to let the Harvard contract 

expire. Th e Navy concluded “there was at Harvard a continuing reluctance to 

recognize the practical needs of the Naval Service and constant underhanded 

criticism of the whole idea of intensifi ed training because it did not conform to 

the usual academic set-up as exemplifi ed in the leisurely and highly theoretical 

teaching of Professor Elisseeff .”145

University of California at Berkeley

On balance, the Berkeley program proved an enormous success for the 

Navy. Th e same inspection team that visited Harvard reported the Berkeley 

teachers and program administrators had “given so wholeheartedly of their time 

and eff ort that the students, although in general not so well prepared initially as 

those sent to Harvard, were making greater progress toward the objective set for 

the course by the Navy.”146 Unfortunately, Berkeley’s success did not lack diffi -

cult challenges of its own. When the Berkeley school opened, the Navy decided 

to make the existence of the program a military secret. Very few people outside 

the classroom knew the school was teaching these students until aft er President 

Roosevelt issued EO 9066 in February 1942, evacuating all persons of Japanese 

ancestry from western military combat zones, including the entire state of California.147 Anticipating problems with the California-based program, the Navy 

began to look for an alternate location. On 23 June 1942, the school was forced 

to relocate since, at the time, the faculty included 11 professors of Japanese origin who were essential to the program’s success.148

University of Colorado at Boulder

Aft er an exhaustive search eff ort, the Navy selected the University of Colorado at Boulder as the new site for the program. Th e Navy draft ed a contract 

for signature by the university president, which guaranteed the employment 

of Professor Walne and her entire teaching staff from Berkeley. Gradually, the 

145 Hindmarsh, 13. 

146 Hindmarsh, 13. 

147 Bert Bemis, “U.S. Navy Men Learn Japanese at School in Rockies,” Christian Science 

Monitor (1908-Current file), 21 August 1942, 13, accessed via ProQuest Historical Newspapers 

on 3 May 2007.

148 Hindmarsh, 14. 
| 59

school overcame administrative diffi culties associated with the transition and 

the University of Colorado program fl ourished.149 Boulder ultimately accepted 

students from the Navy, the Marine Corps, and the Coast Guard, as well as a 

select number of British and Canadian Naval students.150

By the spring of 1943, like the Army, the Navy initiated a program to 

recruit women in the language school for eventual commissioning in the 

WAVES (the Navy’s organization for women).151 From June to July 1943, the 

Navy interviewed over 600 applicants, many of whom enrolled and later graduated from the Boulder school. Th ese offi cers went on to serve in a variety of jobs 

in intelligence, communications, supply, medicine, and administration.

By late 1943, the Navy had received 6,500 applications and interviewed 

over 3,000 candidates for the Japanese language school. Th e majority of students 

selected were of college age, 25 being the average age for all students enrolled. A 

third of the students had graduate-level college degrees, nearly half had college 

degrees, and a third were also members of Phi Beta Kappa. It is interesting to 

note, however, that just over 20 percent of the students had no college degrees. Of 

these, most had acquired knowledge of Japanese or had been born in Japan.152

One of the most intriguing dynamics observed in the Navy’s language 

program was the diversity of its students. Th e Navy recruited personnel from a 

wide variety of backgrounds and a broad range of life experiences. Moreover, 

the diversity went well beyond the traditional creativity, insight, and experiences 

of people of diff erent race, religion, ethnicity, or gender. With regard to previous 

occupations, 38 percent were students; the remainder came from all sectors of 

business and government. Interestingly enough, 13 percent were former teachers. 12 percent of the students were foreign-born and 17 percent were either 

born in or had lived in the Far East. Many of the students had unusual backgrounds, illustrating the unique composition of the school’s student body. For 

example, one student was secretary to the U.S. Ambassador to Japan. Another 

was a former cab driver. One was a missionary in China; another was a radio 

commentator. One student managed a nightclub, and another was an orchestra leader. Others chosen included a ship fi tter, an actor, a miner, an artist who 

spent 19 years in France, a former liquor store proprietor, a banker, and a newsreel camera operator.153

149 Hindmarsh, 14.

150 Hindmarsh, 21-22.

151 Beginning in 1942, the U.S. Navy recruited women into its Navy Women’s Reserve, 

called Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES) and, by the end of World 

War II, more than 80,000 WAVES filled shore billets in a large variety of jobs. 

152 Hindmarsh, Appendix 42, 6-7.

153 Hindmarsh, Appendix 42, 7.
60 |

Th e history of the Japanese Language School illustrates a signifi cant problem the Navy faced regarding language training – the delicate nature of public 

relations. With feelings running high against the Japanese following the attack 

on Pearl Harbor, it took all the tact and persuasive powers of the senior administrative staff at Boulder to sell the necessity of the program to local citizens. 

In the end, the reception accorded the school by the Boulder community was 

quite diff erent from that in California. In a special article published in the Christian Science Monitor, Bert Bemis wrote, “It is obvious that these Japanese are 

welcome; their presence occasions no surprise, no challenges as enemy aliens. 

Boulder citizens have for them only the friendliest greetings, for they know 

them to be loyal subjects of Uncle Sam, doing a diffi cult and very important 

work for him and doing it well.”154

In April 1945, the Navy established an additional Naval School of Oriental Language at Oklahoma A&M College (now Oklahoma State University) in 

Stillwater. Th is school received approximately 700 students between April and 

August of 1945. Because of his long experience and particular success in dealing with Japanese language students, Dr. Glenn Shaw, director of the Boulder 

school, assumed responsibility as the general advisor to both schools.

Th e Navy’s Japanese Language School proved its value to the nation during the Second World War and the subsequent occupation of Japan. During the 

war, employing interrogators and translators with command of the enemy’s language had obvious advantages. By the time they graduated from the school, students were able to read and write approximately 1,800 Japanese characters and 

maintain a vocabulary of nearly 7,000 words. Graduates played a critical role in 

gathering valuable intelligence information about Japanese military operations 

and intentions.

Lieutenant Otis Cary: NSOL Class of 1942

When Otis Cary interrogated Japanese prisoners during 

World War II, he soft ened them with gift s of magazines, cigarettes, and chocolates. He broke through their reserve with 

humor. And he spoke to them in fl awless Japanese – shocking 

from a blond-haired American.

Otis Cary’s Obituary,

—Honolulu Advertiser, 24 April 2006

154 Bemis, “U.S. Navy Men Learn Japanese at School in Rockies,” 13. 
| 61

Th e experience of one Boulder graduate, Lieutenant Otis Cary, illustrates 

the success of the Navy program and its contributions. His deep understanding 

of the Japanese culture and command of the language enabled him to educe 

intelligence information vital to the war eff ort. Cary was born on 20 October 

1921 in the city of Otaru on Hokkaido, Japan. As a son and grandson of New 

England missionaries, he was raised in Japan, which supplied the foundation 

for his remarkable cultural and linguistic expertise. Cary attended a Japanese 

school through the fourth grade before returning to the U.S., where he fi nished 

grade school and continued his education at Amherst College in Massachusetts. 

War between the U.S. and Japan broke out while Cary was attending college 

and, following graduation, he enlisted in the Navy. Aft er completing Japanese 

language school at Boulder, he was commissioned as an ensign and sent to 

Hawaii to serve in Admiral Nimitz’s Central Pacifi c Command. Cary went on 

to become one of the most highly successful and well-respected interrogators in 

the Navy during World War II.

Like most Boulder graduates, Cary was assigned to the Joint Intelligence 

Center Pacifi c Ocean Area (JICPOA), which was responsible for POW interrogation as well as document translation, radio interception, code work, and other 

intelligence-related activities. While many alumni performed in-garrison work 

at JICPOA, several of the Naval offi cers were routinely embedded with Marine 

Corps units throughout the Pacifi c. Th ese offi cers typically landed in the third 

assault wave to interrogate enemy prisoners and write summaries of captured 

documents.155

In May 1943, Cary accompanied U.S. Naval forces in the fi rst off ensive 

operation of the Pacifi c Th eater, the recapture of Attu in the Aleutian Islands.156

Planners believed a successful assault on Attu would isolate the Japanese on 

Kiska, Attu’s eastern neighbor, and make its strategically signifi cant capture 

much easier. Bad weather postponed the initial landing until 11 May and, aft er 

three weeks of fi erce fi ghting, the 1,000 surviving Japanese soldiers launched a 

fi nal banzai attack toward U.S. positions, killing hundreds on both sides. On 30 

May, Japan announced the loss of Attu; each side sustained heavy casualties. Of 

the 15,000 U.S. troops involved in the operation, 550 died and nearly 1,500 were 

wounded. On the Japanese side, of a force of nearly 2,500 soldiers, fewer than 

30 survived and were taken prisoner; the rest were killed in action or committed hara-kari.157

155 Straus, 111.

156 Straus, 112.

157 Erwin N. Thompson, Attu Battlefield and U.S. Army and Navy Airfields on Attu: Aleutian 

Islands, 1984, URL: <www.cr.nps.gov/nr/TwHP/wwwlps/lessons/7attu/7facts1.htm>, accessed 

11 May 2007.
62 |

Ironically, the fi rst prisoner Cary interrogated had grown up in Otaru, the 

city where he was raised as a child, which off ered an ideal opportunity to establish instant rapport. As it turned out, the prisoner had returned from nearby 

Kiska, the focal point of the next U.S. assault, just days before his capture. Consequently, Cary was able to elicit detailed information from the prisoner regarding the status of Japanese military forces on the island.158 Th is detailed order of 

battle was extremely valuable to fi eld commanders preparing to invade Kiska.

Cary’s next combat operation took place in June 1944, when American 

troops invaded Saipan.159 As mentioned earlier, this was the fi rst time U.S. 

forces secured a relatively large number of enemy prisoners in the Pacifi c Th eater; between 15 June and 16 July, U.S. forces captured 3,076 native civilians and 

79 military POWs.160 Although eff orts by U.S. troops to persuade the Japanese 

to surrender were mostly futile, Cary did manage to persuade one prisoner to 

return to a particular cave and convince several civilians hiding there that U.S. 

soldiers would not kill them if they capitulated.

Cary’s success was due in large part to his ability to communicate with the 

natives using Japanese slang as opposed to the more formal dialect traditionally 

taught in Japanese schools. One prisoner wanted to make sure his motivation 

158 Straus, 112.

159 Straus, 112.

160 Tracy, “Intelligence Extracts of Special Action Reports - Saipan,” 319.1/172, NARA, 3.

Pacific Theater during World War II.

Source: U.S. Army Center of Military History.
| 63

to cooperate was clear. He told Cary, “We are doing this for ourselves. It’s not 

for your side and we are not going to become your pawns. Don’t misunderstand 

us.” It was evident from Cary’s success in interrogating prisoners throughout the 

war that he clearly understood the subtext of what this prisoner was saying.161

Cary always dealt with enemy prisoners in a decent, humane manner and 

treated them not as enemies, but as human beings, who he believed deserved to 

have a future in a post-war Japan. He pointed out the Japanese were accustomed 

to resisting the coercive techniques they had witnessed in China; however, they 

could not resist the humane treatment off ered by U.S. interrogators. A review of 

former Japanese prisoner autobiographies by Ulrich Straus makes no reference 

to U.S. employment of coercive interrogation techniques and his comprehensive assessment of interrogation records on fi le at the U.S. National Archives 

indicated such threats were not made.162

In early 1945, the impact of Cary’s kind treatment reached a pinnacle 

when he infl uenced a small group of Japanese prisoners held at a POW camp 

near Pearl Harbor to consider cooperating in America’s war eff orts. Aft er convincing his immediate superiors he had the right group of men who could work 

together, Cary proposed an experiment designed to engage the Japanese prisoners directly in winning the war against their native country, and perhaps provide a foundation for the future “democratization” of Japan. Navy leadership 

approved the proposed plan and the select group of prisoners was relocated to 

an isolated site away from other Japanese POWs so they could perform their 

“mission” in secrecy.163

As a fi rst task, the prisoners draft ed a constitution articulating the purpose of their newly formed group. Th ey claimed, “We have decided to manifest our unceasing patriotism in a small way by helping the American military 

campaigns and propaganda wars. When the war ends and Japan resumes its 

path towards a bright future, we will be in our homeland, and we swear to do 

our utmost for its reconstruction.” In essence, they were about to embark on a 

mission their fellow soldiers and nation would classify as treasonous. Regardless, these men trusted Cary and were willing to risk their lives for the future of 

their country.164

Th e fi rst project in which the group participated was improving the eff ectiveness of an American propaganda newsletter, the Mariana Jiho (Mariana 

Bulletin). Th is particular publication was designed to undermine the morale 

of Japanese forces at the front. In the past, the U.S. military considered this tool 

161 Straus, 113.

162 Straus, 120.

163 Straus, 215.

164 Straus, 216.
64 |

relatively ineff ective because of poor translation and limited content. Cary’s 

group added instant credibility and reality by off ering a document written by 

native linguists as opposed to a Japanese translation of a Western-style article. 

In addition, they made up “advertisements” of well-known Japanese department stores to add further credibility to the façade. 165

While the newsletter was a worthy endeavor, the most signifi cant project 

the group accepted was the rapid translation of the Potsdam Declaration in July 

1945.166 Aft er Allied leaders defi ned the terms by which Japan could surrender, 

the Japanese government prohibited the media from publishing the details in 

full. When the group completed its Japanese translation, the document was sent 

to Saipan, printed in leafl et form, and loaded aboard B-29 aircraft for widespread distribution across Japan to inform the public of its lenient terms. Ulrich 

Straus, author of Anguish of Surrender, believed that “the leafl et campaign, by 

informing the war-weary Japanese public of the Allies’ terms, considered lenient 

and fair compared to what they had feared, contributed to their government’s 

decision, fi nally, to accept the declaration.”167

On refl ection, Cary’s “democratization experiment,” as labeled by Straus, 

planted the seeds for a stable and prosperous government and provided a foundation for the future “democratization” of postwar Japan. Six decades aft er this 

devastating war, the Japanese constitution, promulgated in 1946 during the 

occupation by the Allied powers, remains in place. Th e remarkable eff orts of 

Otis Cary and a few patriotic (although some might argue otherwise) Japanese 

prisoners serve as a lasting legacy to the people and nation of Japan. 

Cary had a distinguished record of treating his prisoners with humanity 

and respect. His superior Japanese skills and deep understanding of Japanese 

culture enabled him to get past the psychological barriers that stymied other 

U.S. military interrogators. Despite strict conditioning, Cary helped many Japanese POWs overcome the shame of surrender and off ered them hope for a better 

Japan. Aft er Cary completed his military service, he returned to Japan, assumed 

a position as visiting professor at Kyoto’s prestigious Doshisha University, and 

lived in Kyoto until he retired. On 14 April 2006, Cary died of pneumonia at the 

age of 84. He will be remembered as one of the fi nest and most compassionate 

wartime interrogators in U.S. history. 

165 Straus, 216-217.

166 The Potsdam Declaration was a statement issued on 26 July 1945 by President Harry 

S. Truman, Winston Churchill, and Chaing Kai-shek, which outlined the terms of Japanese surrender as agreed upon at the Potsdam Conference.

167 Straus, 217-218. 
| 65

Historical Perspective: Lessons from World War II

We can learn from history how past generations thought and 

acted, how they responded to the demands of their time and 

how they solved their problems. We can learn by analogy, not 

by example, for our circumstances will always be diff erent 

than theirs were. Th e main thing history can teach us is that 

human actions have consequences and that certain choices, 

once made, cannot be undone. Th ey foreclose the possibility of making other choices and thus they determine future 

events.

—Gerda Lerner, Historian

Introduction

Following the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, U.S. military interrogators found themselves face-to-face with an implacable enemy in the brutal, merciless battlefi eld of the Second World War—the Pacifi c Th eater. Th e 

American public reacted to the attack and reports of Japanese atrocities 

against American prisoners that followed with fear and anger—promptly 

branding the enemy as subhuman. On the heels of public outrage, U.S. interrogators faced the extraordinary challenge of collecting human intelligence 

from this seemingly ruthless foe. Th ey encountered an enemy who spoke an 

impenetrable language and whose culture and psychology were incomprehensible to the Western mind. 

Th e study of this chaotic period in our nation’s history provides a unique 

and practical look at similar challenges faced by U.S. military interrogators 

operating around the globe today. Th is study documents how the U.S. Army 

and Navy overcame these obstacles and illuminates the U.S. military’s remarkable accomplishments in conducting wartime interrogations. What can we 

learn from the U.S. experience during World War II of recruiting and preparing interrogators and conducting interrogations of Japanese POWs that will 

inform current and future doctrine and practices related to educing information? Th e answer to this question can be drawn from a comparative analysis 

of the U.S. Army and Navy case studies reviewed previously. Th is eff ort documents numerous lessons learned and highlights basic principles of eff ective 

interrogation that still apply today. Additionally, it off ers recommendations for 

further research. 
66 |

U.S. Army Recruitment Eff orts

Most experienced interrogators agree that successful interrogation of 

POWs requires command of enemy languages and a genuine appreciation for 

enemy cultural sensitivities. As such, recruitment eff orts must fi rst concentrate 

on personnel with required language capabilities and a thorough understanding 

of each enemy’s country, folklore and myths, customs, manners, and psychology. During the Second World War, the Army directed its recruitment eff orts 

toward “heritage speakers,” a term used by Cliff ord Porter, Command Historian at the Defense Language Institute Foreign Language Center (DLIFLC) in 

Monterey, California, the U.S. government’s premier institution for foreign language education today. Dr. Porter describes these unique individuals as “U.S. 

military personnel whose fi rst language is not English or who have acquired 

foreign language skills outside of the military.”168

Faced with few options, the U.S. Army turned to Nisei (second-generation Japanese-Americans) to solve its language problem. Initially, American 

suspicion of Nisei loyalty hindered the Army’s recruitment eff orts and limited 

the Nisei’s overseas assignments. However, following the Nisei’s early success 

on the battlefi eld, the Army expanded the program and ultimately trained and 

employed nearly 6,000 Nisei (men and women) by the end of the war.

Strengths of the Army’s Recruitment Eff orts

Th e recruitment of Nisei presented the Army distinct advantages to 

alternative options considered in addressing its Japanese language defi ciency. 

Th e Nisei’s greatest benefi t was an existing Japanese language capability. Since 

all Nisei recruits spoke some Japanese (although their language skills varied 

greatly), the required training period for employment was much shorter. Th is 

enabled the Army to train new recruits and send them into battle quickly.

Th e cultural knowledge of the Nisei interrogators proved invaluable in 

dealing with Japanese POWs. In addition to language skills, most Nisei had 

an understanding of Japanese values and psychology not obtainable in a classroom. Many absorbed the Japanese culture in their homes and in aft er-school 

Japanese programs, while others experienced it fi rsthand by spending part of 

their childhood living and attending school in Japan. Th e latter, known as Kibei 

(a Nisei sent by his parents at a young age to be educated in Japan), were treasured recruits. 

168 Clifford Porter, Asymmetrical Warfare, Transformation, and Foreign Language Capability

(Fort Leavenworth, KS: U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, Combat Studies Institute, March 2002), 10, URL: <www-cgsc.army.mil/carl/download/csipubs/porter.pdf>, accessed 

29 May 2007. Cited hereafter as Porter, Asymmetrical Warfare, Transformation, and Foreign Language Capability.
| 67

Weaknesses of the Army’s Recruitment Eff orts

Despite the benefi t of recruiting Nisei heritage speakers during World 

War II, there were some drawbacks. First, many Americans considered the 

Nisei a national security risk. Since Nisei, like other Americans, were subject 

to the draft , many were serving in the Army when the Japanese attacked Pearl 

Harbor. Following the hysteria on the West Coast of the U.S., many Nisei soldiers were discharged and reclassifi ed, along with their parents and siblings, 

as enemy aliens. Th ose who remained, like Grant Hirabayashi, were stripped 

of their weapons and relegated to menial jobs until the Army could complete 

extensive background investigations. 

Many Americans also refused to believe the Nisei could stand the decisive test of battle against their own race and kindred. Because some Nisei family 

members were trapped in Japan and required to serve in the Japanese armed 

forces, Nisei soldiers might, in essence, be asked to take up arms against their 

brothers.

Finally, ethnic heritage does not equate to language skill. Many Nisei 

were not suffi ciently literate in English or Japanese to translate accurately for 

the Army’s military intelligence program. As indicated by Dr. Porter, “of the 

1,400 Nisei interviewed in 1941, the Army only found 60 capable of learning 

Japanese beyond ‘kitchen-heritage speaking,’ and only two were suffi ciently 

profi cient in both Japanese and English to translate accurately, and they were 

used as instructors.” Th is remains a common problem with Spanish-heritage 

soldiers today.169

U.S. Navy Recruitment Eff orts

Th e question of loyalty was the most signifi cant factor contributing to the 

Navy’s decision to recruit solely Caucasian interrogators. While the Navy had 

been sending language specialists to Japan for language immersion since 1922, 

fewer than 56 offi cers trained using this method were available at the outset of 

World War II. 

Th e Navy’s recruitment goals were much lower than the Army’s, but even 

these were diffi cult to achieve. Although the Navy interviewed thousands of 

potential applicants, very few met its high academic standards. Of the select 

number of Caucasian-Americans who could speak and understand Japanese, 

only a small percentage were also profi cient at reading and writing Japanese, a 

critical skill required at the time.

169 Porter, Asymmetrical Warfare, Transformation, and Foreign Language Capability, 10.
68 |

Strengths of the Navy’s Recruitment Eff orts

Like the Army’s Nisei, a large percentage of the Caucasians recruited by 

the Navy had experienced Japanese culture and had at least limited exposure 

to the Japanese language. Of the Navy’s initial 56 recruits, the majority had 

lived and studied in Japan. As such, they shared, to a degree, the Nisei’s benefi t 

of cultural understanding, which proved very useful when dealing with Japanese POWs. Many interrogators, like Otis Cary, were able to develop close 

relationships with the Japanese soldiers and earn their respect and cooperation in providing U.S. Naval intelligence with information vital to the war 

eff ort.

In addition to possessing language skills and cultural knowledge, most 

Caucasians, unlike the Nisei, were seen to pose little or no security risk and were 

able to obtain the necessary security clearance with minor diffi culty. Most Caucasian recruits, as well as immediate family members, were native-born, which 

enabled U.S. government offi cials to conduct background investigations quickly 

and easily, whereas the Nisei’s foreign roots were diffi cult to verify. 

Since most Americans living in the U.S. during World War II were Caucasian, the Navy had a much larger pool of potential applicants than the Army. 

Th e Navy could therefore be far more selective in its recruitment eff orts and 

thus targeted potential applicants with college-level educations, prior exposure 

to Far Eastern culture, and a proclivity for learning a foreign language.

Weaknesses of the Navy’s Recruitment Eff orts

On balance, because several of the Navy’s applicants had limited or no 

Japanese language profi ciency, the time required to bring them up to the necessary skill level was much longer than that needed by the Army. In fact, the 

Navy’s language school took twice as long as the Army’s training program, 

although remarkably the Navy was still able to educate recruits in less than 

12 months. Th is extra time was necessary to develop the students’ skills and 

build a level of confi dence necessary to accommodate eff ective employment 

in the fi eld.

With exception of the Caucasian recruits who had spent a considerable amount of time in Japan, most had no more than 12 months of Japanese 

cultural exposure in an academic setting, while the Nisei had experienced 

Japanese culture on a daily basis. No classroom-based education system 

can substitute for true cultural immersion. However, the Navy went to great 

lengths to make the students’ experience as realistic as possible and was 

remarkably successful. 
| 69

Th e U.S. Army’s Japanese Language Program

Th e Army established its intense, 6-month-long training program to educate soldiers, primarily Nisei, in a broad range of topics, ranging from Japanese 

language and culture to interrogation and translation of Japanese military documents. During the course of the war, the MISLS graduated nearly 6,000 soldiers, 

enabling the Army to penetrate the enemy’s psyche and obtain information vital 

to the war eff ort. In essence, the Japanese soldier was no longer able to barricade 

himself behind the intricate characters and syntax of his complex language.

Strengths of the Army’s Language Program

Th e greatest strength of the Army’s Japanese language program rested on 

the deep heritage and cultural experience of its Kibei instructors, who had spent a 

good portion of their childhood in Japan. While many Nisei students learned Japanese from their families and in aft er-school programs, few had had the opportunity to travel abroad and experience the culture fi rsthand. Th is rich, direct 

exposure was critical to understanding the culture and psychology of the enemy.

Since all students attending the Army’s language school spoke at least some 

Japanese, the Army could focus its instruction on the Japanese military and off er 

specialized training in topics such as POW interrogation. While interrogation 

training was largely limited to role-playing and general interrogation principles, it 

off ered graduates an introduction to the type of work expected by fi eld commanders and exposure to techniques that would prove benefi cial to the war eff ort.

Weaknesses of the Army’s Language Program

Despite an astute staff and broad range of training topics, the Army’s 

approach had its weaknesses. Th e compressed 6-month training regimen 

stretched the students to the absolute limit in order to meet the school’s rigorous 

academic requirements and the service’s growing need for qualifi ed linguists 

on the battlefi eld. Classes ran from 8:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m., Monday through 

Saturday, and many students were forced to stay up well past their 10:00 p.m. 

curfew to complete required homework and prepare for the next day’s lessons. 

Saturday’s “school of the soldier” training and frequent military-type inspections placed additional burdens on the already overtaxed students. 

Additionally, the broad range of language profi ciency among the student 

population made it diffi cult for students to receive focused instruction at the 

appropriate speed. For some, the pace of instruction was too slow; for many, 

they had all they could do to keep up with their classmates.
70 |

Th e U.S. Navy’s Japanese Language Program

Th e Navy’s Oriental Language School off ered, in reality, what amounted 

to a “fellowship-type” program to educate Caucasians with limited Japanese 

language capabilities at U.S. universities. Following a rocky start, the Navy 

developed a revolutionary language school that produced offi cers thoroughly 

competent in reading and writing Japanese. Unlike the Army’s program, the 

curriculum focused almost exclusively on mastering the basic Japanese language and postponed any specialized training until students graduated and 

moved on to their next assignments. Th e exemplary performance of its graduates testifi ed to the success of the Navy’s program.

Strengths of the Navy’s Language Program

Th e Naganuma language course, which served as the foundation for the 

Navy’s intensive set of courses, proved invaluable to the academic curriculum. 

Although the program typically required three years of instruction in Japan, the 

Navy streamlined the program to 12 months of intense class work in the U.S. In 

addition to the eff ective course of instruction, culture and language immersion 

off ered throughout the program played a signifi cant role in the school’s overall success. Finally, the Navy attributed much of the school’s accomplishment 

to the program’s concentration on the basic Japanese language (as opposed to 

military and technical terminology). By off ering this academic approach, the 

faculty was able to provide intense language instruction without distracting 

students with military inspections or training that interfered with the primary 

educational goal. Ultimately, the Navy accomplished what many had believed to 

be an impossible task – training relatively competent Japanese language experts 

in less than a year’s time. Graduates, many of whom started with no Japanese 

language experience, were able to read and write approximately 1,800 Japanese 

characters and maintain a vocabulary of nearly 7,000 words.

Weaknesses of the Navy’s Language Program 

Postponing any specialized or military training until students graduated and moved on to their next assignments did have some drawbacks. Th e 

Navy (with the exception of its Marine Corps students) did not anticipate 

interrogating Japanese prisoners, but instead expected they would employ 

their graduates at regional intelligence centers translating enemy documents. 

Although the graduates required these skills, the assumption they would not 

act as interrogators proved false, as many students, such as Lieutenant Otis 

Cary, ended up operating in combat zones within Marine units and interrogating Japanese POWs.
| 71

In addition, since the Navy’s program placed only limited emphasis on 

military-related education (such as military terminology and general Japanese 

military instruction), Naval offi cers deployed to the fi eld were forced to transport trunks full of reference materials to meet the needs of the intelligence service. Much of the tactical intelligence developed through prisoner interrogation 

included order of battle information such as military unit strength, location, 

tactics, and equipment condition. Moreover, many graduates were deployed 

into combat zones without receiving any formal instruction in interrogation.

To remedy this apparent shortcoming, Major Sherwood F. Moran, a senior 

Marine interrogator who spent 40 years in Japan as a missionary prior to World 

War II and who supervised numerous Boulder graduates in combat, authored 

a treatise titled “Suggestions for Japanese Interpreters Based on Work in the 

Field,” and distributed it throughout the Pacifi c Th eater. Th e essay laid out criteria for an eff ective interrogator. It concentrated on the attitude of interrogators 

toward the enemy prisoners and knowledge and use of the enemy’s language. 

Moran opposed stern interviewing tactics and favored talking to prisoners ningen to shite (human to human). In essence, it provided novice interrogators a 

series of guiding principles with which to carry out their interviews.170

Wartime Interrogation of Japanese Prisoners

U.S. military interrogators overcame numerous challenges during the 

Second World War, not only in developing an eff ective wartime interrogation system but also in persuading fellow soldiers and fi eld commanders of the 

intelligence value of enemy prisoners. In early campaigns, Americans captured 

very few Japanese soldiers, primarily because of the racist attitude of the combat forces, both enlisted and offi cer.171 Hatred of the enemy was so fi erce that 

many fi eld commanders believed taking prisoners would expose their troops to 

unnecessary risk. Moreover, military leaders were certain the Japanese would 

never disclose valuable intelligence information. To overcome this challenge, 

Nisei and Caucasian interrogators personally indoctrinated members of their 

own units about the enemy’s worth to ensure POWs were available for questioning. Eventually, U.S. military leaders came to realize it was not only ethically 

and legally right (as defi ned by Geneva Convention) to take prisoners, but that 

the work of U.S. interrogators was key to American success in the Pacifi c intelligence campaign. 

170 Sherwood F. Moran, Major, U.S. Marine Corps, “Suggestions for Japanese Interpreters 

Based on Work in the Field,”17 July 1943; Training Records of MITC, Camp Ritchie; Records of 

the War Department General and Special Staffs; Record Group 165; NARA, College Park, MD, 1. 

171 Burden, “Interrogation of Japanese Prisoners in the Southwest Pacific: Intelligence 

Memo No. 4,” NARA, 2.
72 |

Wartime experiences in the Pacifi c Th eater revealed that captured Japanese 

POWs in fact seldom resisted interrogation. My research highlighted several factors that contributed to this phenomenon. Th e following reasons illustrate why, 

in my estimate, Japanese prisoners cooperated with American interrogators and 

provided valuable intelligence information that assisted the war eff ort.

Reciprocity for Kind and Respectful Treatment 

Th e most successful interrogators during the war treated Japanese prisoners as individual human beings, rather than as animals or fanatical enemy soldiers. 

Th ese interrogators off ered sincere kindness and understanding and ensured 

timely access to food, clothing, and medical care. Japanese prisoners were truly 

shocked to learn they were receiving the same food and medical care as their captors and recognition of this common humanity left a lasting impression. Moreover, Japanese society customarily valued reciprocal giving and receiving. 

Employment of Nisei Interrogators

Th e U.S. Army’s use of Nisei as combat interrogators greatly improved the 

Allied intelligence collection eff ort. Th eir linguistic skills were far superior to 

those of their Caucasian counterparts, and most Nisei had a profound appreciation for Japanese culture and psychology. Th ese skills, coupled with their physical resemblance to the enemy, put the Japanese prisoners at ease, which enabled 

eff ective interrogation. Major General Charles Willoughby, the top intelligence offi cer in the Pacifi c Th eater under the command of General MacArthur, 

summed up the Nisei contributions best by stating, “Th e 6000 Nisei shortened 

the Pacifi c War by two years.”172

Reciprocal Curiosity of the Caucasian Linguists

Once Caucasian interrogators established a dialogue with Japanese prisoners, the prisoners were oft en just as curious to learn about the white Americans who spoke their native tongue as the Caucasian interrogators were to learn 

about their Japanese captives. Th e unique ability to carry on informal discussions generally put the POWs at ease. Th is style of elicitation was not as eff ective 

for Nisei interrogators. Oft en times the Nisei were regarded with suspicion by 

the prisoners, as illustrated by Sergeant Hirabayashi’s exchange with the Japanese offi cer who repeatedly called him a “traitor.” 

Learning Th ey Were Not Alone 

Many Japanese POWs felt isolated when facing U.S. interrogators. Compared to POWs captured in the European Th eater, the number of Japanese 

172 Nakasone, 54.
| 73

prisoners captured was extremely small. Aft er being cut off from their fellow 

soldiers, Japanese POWs experienced an overwhelming sense of loneliness and 

were shocked to learn that other Japanese soldiers had been taken prisoner too. 

Once they discovered they were not alone, they experienced a sense of relief, 

which facilitated a sort of “relaxed” state. Being put at ease, coupled with good 

treatment and medical care, encouraged the POWs to talk freely.

Fear of Dishonoring their Families 

Th e Japanese had a strong sense of national unity; soldiers were very 

loyal to their country and their Emperor. Th ey lived by the Bushido code; they 

believed death in battle was an honor and that capture and surrender were akin 

to treason, renunciation of religion, and eternal disgrace to the soul, family, and 

country. Once captured, Japanese POWs felt abandoned by their country and 

feared their families would learn of their detention and be disgraced. American 

interrogators exploited this fear by promising not to send a prisoner’s name 

back to Japan if he cooperated. Th is technique, coupled with kind treatment, 

proved extremely eff ective as well. 

Lack of Security Indoctrination 

Th e Japanese belief that capture and surrender were a disgrace to family 

and country meant that military leaders considered it unnecessary to give their 

soldiers security training to ensure that POWs knew how to safeguard classifi ed and sensitive information. Moreover, many Japanese offi cers were not concerned about the security of their sensitive military communications because 

they believed Westerners would never learn to read and write Japanese. Th e 

lack of security indoctrination, particularly in the earlier campaigns, was very 

apparent to U.S. interrogators. 

Fear of Torture 

Many Japanese prisoners told their interrogators they had expected to be 

killed or tortured if taken prisoner. Evidence obtained through POW interrogation suggested this fear did not result from Japanese propaganda, but from the 

soldiers’ fi rsthand experience in China. Aft er training and serving under these 

conditions for years, as many Japanese soldiers had, it is hardly surprising that 

these troops expected any opponent to treat them brutally.

Hope for a Better Tomorrow 

Many Japanese POWs felt that the kind and respectful treatment off ered 

by U.S. military interrogators like Otis Cary and Grant Hirabayashi contributed to a realization of their self-worth in the reconstruction of Japan. Ulrich 

Straus, a former Consul General of Okinawa and U.S. Army language offi cer 
74 |

who served in Japan during the occupation, highlighted this recurring theme 

aft er he interviewed dozens of former Japanese POWs and studied numerous 

memoirs refl ecting this feeling. 

Recommendations for Additional Research

Over four months of research at the National Archives and Records 

Administration in College Park, Maryland, revealed a treasure trove of information pertaining to World War II interrogation eff orts in the Pacifi c Th eater. 

Th e volume of materials available surpasses that which could be reasonably 

addressed by a lone investigator and documented in a single study. Th is unique 

source of research material off ers numerous opportunities to conduct further 

examination and develop additional case studies that might inform current and 

future doctrine and practices related to educing information – an eff ort currently underway by the Director of National Intelligence-chartered Intelligence 

Science Board Study on Educing Information, chaired by Robert A. Fein and 

supported by the National Defense Intelligence College. 

One area of research that would off er signifi cant historic value would 

be an examination of the model of interrogation employed by the British 

during World War II. In the summer of 1941, the U.S. Offi ce of Naval Intelligence instructed the head of the Special Activities Branch responsible for 

interrogation to examine and develop an organization for the interrogation 

of Naval POWs.173 In response, the Navy dispatched a reserve offi cer to the 

British Admiralty in London to study and receive training in British methods of interrogation. An examination of this study could reveal diff erences, 

advantages, and disadvantages between the American and British interrogation programs.

Another promising area of research would be a comprehensive study of 

Camp Tracy, the U.S. West Coast secret interrogation facility located in Byron 

Springs, California, used to interrogate Japanese prisoners during World War 

II. Initial research indicates the facility was less eff ective than the East Coast 

facility located at Fort Hunt, Virginia, where information was educed from 

high-level German POWs during the same period. Th e interrogation activities at Fort Hunt are well documented by a former graduate of the National 

Defense Intelligence College, Colonel (then Major) Steven Kleinman, U.S. Air 

Force Reserve. Th e Camp Tracy study could reveal additional factors infl uencing eff ective interrogation practices.

173 The Office of Naval Intelligence unit responsible for developing the Navy’s POW interrogation section was called the Special Intelligence Section, Foreign Intelligence Branch, OP16-F-9, and was established in June 1940.
| 75

A fi nal area worth consideration would be to compare and contrast the 

operational environments present in the Pacifi c during World War II and the 

current Global War on Terrorism to determine what parallels might be drawn. 

Such a study could examine whether prisoners in these settings were similarly 

infl uenced by the nature of their delivery into detention (capture or surrender)—

an examination that could produce additional lessons learned. 

| 77

Unveiling Charlie:

U.S. Interrogators’

Creative Successes Against

Insurgents

Meeting Today’s Interrogation Challenges

by Revisiting Our Past

On 6 September 2006 President George Bush delivered a major public address from the East Room of the White House that was designed to 

explain and defend U.S. interrogation practices in the Global War on Terror 

(GWOT). Seeking to justify to Americans and a chorus of international critics 

controversial measures, the President highlighted the sense of urgency which 

infl uenced U.S. interrogation practices aft er the stunning Al Qaeda attacks 

in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania. “Th e attacks of September the 

11th horrifi ed our nation. And amid the grief came new fears and urgent 

questions: Who had attacked us? What did they want? And what else were 

they planning?”174

Th e public’s demands for explanation, justice, and protection presented 

the U.S. Government with a daunting challenge. Many intelligence collection systems and techniques that had been devised for use against traditional 

state-based adversaries during the Cold War suddenly had limited utility. A 

new, shadowy enemy in the form of the Al Qaeda terrorist network presented 

an elusive target to collectors of signals and imagery intelligence. Instead of 

observing physical manifestations of enemy intentions and capabilities, U.S. 

intelligence collectors now had no choice but to speak directly with individuals who belonged to terrorist organizations. Acquisition of human intelligence 

(HUMINT) via interrogation was recognized as the best means of protecting 

Americans from further attack. President Bush succinctly explained this new 

challenge during his address:

174 George W. Bush, President of the United States, televised speech from the East Room 

of the White House, Washington, DC, 6 September 2006, URL: www.npr.org/templates/story/

stor.php?storyId=5777480, accessed 7 February 2007.
78 |

Th e terrorists who declared war on America represent no 

nation, they defend no territory, and they wear no uniform. 

Th ey do not mass armies on borders or fl otillas of warships 

on the high seas. Th ey operate in the shadows of society. Th ey 

send small teams of operatives to infi ltrate free nations. Th ey 

live quietly among their victims. Th ey conspire in secret, 

and then they strike without warning. In this new war, the 

most important source of information on where the terrorists are hiding and what they are planning is the terrorists 

themselves.... [T]his is intelligence that cannot be found any 

other place.

While acknowledging the importance of interrogation to U.S. success in 

the GWOT, many critics have questioned the means by which U.S. interrogators 

have collected intelligence from alleged terrorist operatives. Th ese questions 

have largely centered around the moral and political ramifi cations of coercive 

interrogation practices, not on whether these practices produce accurate intelligence. While certainly an important ingredient in policy formulation, public 

debate concerning interrogation techniques has artifi cially obscured consideration of the many actors and variables in play during an interrogation session. 

Th is study seeks to foster a richer discourse about interrogation. Aft er all, 

the quantity and quality of intelligence derived from an interrogation session do 

not depend entirely upon the techniques used. In fact, all interrogation sessions 

involve at least two human beings with oft en divergent objectives, loyalties, cultures, and languages. Th erefore, at its core, interrogation is a dynamic interaction between an interrogator and a prospective source. Th e attributes of these 

two individuals dramatically aff ect the outcome of an interrogation, regardless 

of the techniques used.175

Many factors bear upon the eff ectiveness of an interrogator, to include 

motivation, experience, education, training, communications ability, cultural 

understanding, and personal disposition. Th us, two interrogators employing 

identical techniques may experience radically diff erent levels of eff ectiveness 

with the same source. Th is being the case, it is natural to ask why some interrogators are more eff ective than others. Specifi cally, is it possible to defi ne a 

general recipe for successful interrogation? Th is study identifi es personal attri175 Steven M. Kleinman, “KUBARK Counterintelligence Interrogation Review: Observations 

of an Interrogator,” in Intelligence Science Board Phase 1 Report, Educing Information. Interrogation: Science and Art. Foundations for the Future (Washington DC: National Defense Intelligence 

College, 2006), 108. Cited hereafter as Kleinman on KUBARK in Educing Information.
| 79

butes and tradecraft that have advanced the purposes and eff ectiveness of experienced counterinsurgency interrogators.

Reliving Challenges from the Past

Th e diffi culty of setting out the requirements for a fi rst class 

interrogator is more apparent than real. In theory, remarkable attainments are essential. In practice an average offi cer 

is posted and the best use is made of the limited qualifi cation, 

enthusiasm and experience. If and when any headway is made 

he is usually required for service elsewhere or the war comes 

to an end. Certainly no machinery exists for the retention of 

his services; he is lost for any future emergency and the lessons must be learnt, in the hard way, by trial and error in time 

of peril, all over again. In the next war there will be no time for 

this parlous procedure.176

—R.W.G Stephens, British MI5 Interrogator writing aft er WWII

From the mid-1960s to 1975, U.S. interrogators in South Vietnam played 

a critical role in combating an aggressive Vietcong insurgency. Th ey employed a 

wide array of interrogation strategies in response to challenges similar to those 

faced by their present-day successors in Iraq and Afghanistan. Unfortunately, 

generational turnover within the U.S. Intelligence Community (IC) has limited 

today’s application of lessons learned more than three decades ago in Vietnam. 

Stephens’ sobering depiction of Britain’s inability to retain interrogation profi ciency during the World War II era appears to apply equally well to the U.S. 

Government of today. For this reason the U.S. interrogation experience in Vietnam was selected for critical examination.

Parallels in Interrogation: Vietnam and Today

Like current confl icts in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Vietnam confl ict was 

characterized by a widespread insurgency. Th e defi ning characteristic of insurgents 

is their ability to transition quickly between the roles of combatant and civilian. In 

contrast to traditional force-on-force warfare where the enemy wears easily identifi able markings, Vietcong insurgents relied upon their anonymity to neutralize the 

considerable technical advantages possessed by U.S. and South Vietnamese forces. 

By waging asymmetric warfare, insurgents prevented U.S. forces from fully capital176 R.W.G. Stephens, Camp 020: MI5 and the Nazi Spies, ed. Oliver Hoare (London: United 

Kingdom Public Record Office, 2000), 107. Cited hereafter as Camp 020.
80 |

izing on their superior technology, discipline, and size. Th is occurred because U.S. 

and South Vietnamese forces could not easily identify discrete targets against which 

to project their superior fi repower. As in current confl icts, the value of HUMINT 

was amplifi ed and interrogators were urgently needed to assist in identifying insurgents as well as their hideouts, plans, targets, tactics, and supply sources. 

Interrogation operations in support of counterinsurgency objectives 

presented unique requirements to curb potential alienation of the contested 

population. Just as wielders of kinetic weapons must limit collateral damage, interrogators must consciously balance their desire to obtain intelligence 

quickly with the longer-term objective of winning the hearts and minds of the 

contested populace. If U.S. interrogations were perceived by the South Vietnamese as unjust or cruel, detainees and their associates were likely to entertain, or 

increase, support for the Vietcong insurgency. In addition, North Vietnamese 

and Vietcong claims to moral legitimacy would be bolstered by interrogation 

strategies that tacitly confi rmed communist accusations of cruelty by the U.S. 

As in the GWOT, U.S. interrogators in Vietnam were required to tailor their 

interrogation strategies to the unfamiliar culture, laws, procedures, and language of 

their host nation ally. As guests of the South Vietnamese government, U.S. interrogators were frequently required to coordinate their operations with South Vietnam 

counterparts. Oft en this coordination proved diffi cult due to divergent interests, 

jealousies, and dissimilar levels of competency. Collectively, these limitations constituted barriers to eff ective counterinsurgency interrogation in Vietnam.

Nevertheless, outstanding interrogators managed to surmount these 

barriers and obtain signifi cant intelligence for the U.S. by creatively exploiting 

the opportunities and resources available to them. Th is study seeks to identify 

the attributes of a successful counterinsurgency interrogator by analyzing the 

professional development of three U.S. interrogators who published detailed 

reports on their experiences in Vietnam. Th e accounts of Orrin DeForest (Central Intelligence Agency), Stuart Herrington (U.S. Army offi cer), and Sedgwick 

Tourison (U.S. Army noncommissioned offi cer) represent the most substantial 

fi rst-person narratives of U.S. interrogation eff orts in Vietnam:

DeForest, Orrin, and David Chanoff . Slow Burn: Th e Rise and Bitter Fall 

of American Intelligence in Vietnam. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1990.

Herrington, Stuart A. Silence Was a Weapon: Th e Vietnam War in the 

Villages. Novato, CA: Presidio Press, 1982.

Tourison Jr., Sedgwick D. Talking with Victor Charlie: An Interrogator’s 

Story. New York: Ballantine Books, 1991.

In reviewing the interrogators’ experiences, this study endeavors to 

answer the following question: How did U.S. interrogators in Vietnam overcome barriers to eff ective counterinsurgency interrogation? 
| 81

A. What attributes characterized successful counterinsurgency 

interrogators?

B. Which interrogation strategies were most eff ective in producing 

actionable intelligence on Vietcong insurgents?

Th e Case Study Approach

In Case Study Research: Design and Methods, Robert Yin succinctly 

defi nes case studies and indirectly advances the rationale for their use as an 

appropriate construct to study interrogation:

A case study is an empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real-life context, especially 

when the boundaries between phenomenon and context are 

not clearly evident.177

Indeed, the primary challenge when studying interrogation eff ectiveness is 

separating the act from its environment. Arguably, it is impossible to do so in light of 

the pervasive impacts stemming from physical, linguistic, cultural, and intra-/interpersonal factors. For this very reason, case studies are ideally suited to our challenge.

Th e present research eff ort features DeForest, Herrington, and Tourison 

as the subjects of three comparative case studies because of their reported successes as interrogators, proven capacity for introspection, and diverse professional 

backgrounds. Together, the written works of DeForest, Herrington, and Tourison 

form the corpus of literature pertaining to interrogation in Vietnam. Th ey off er 

a nuanced and comprehensive depiction of counterinsurgency interrogation in 

Vietnam, especially because their operational environs, methods, military ranks, 

and service periods varied considerably.

Using a Grounded Th eory approach, the researcher analyzed the written works 

of the interrogators to develop hypotheses that suggest which personal attributes 

and strategies facilitated eff ective interrogation in Vietnam. Th e Grounded Th eory 

approach was developed by two psychology researchers, Barney Glaser and Anselm 

Strauss, to “discover the theory implicit in the data.”178 To elaborate, Grounded Th eory 

enables a researcher to analyze a set of data for the purpose of explaining the patterns 

and causal factors present within the data. Resulting hypotheses can then be tested. 

177 Robert K. Yin, Case Study Research: Design and Methods (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2003), 13.

178 Barney G. Glaser and Anselm L. Strauss, Discovery of Grounded Theory: Strategies for 

Qualitative Research (New York: Aldine de Gruyter, 1967), 4.
82 |

Th e researcher’s generation of hypotheses was informed by a comprehensive literature review, which considered barriers to interrogator success and lessons 

off ered by an array of experienced wartime interrogators. Th e literature review led the 

researcher in selecting foci for the three case studies presented subsequently. Although 

the case studies are designed to elucidate specifi c topical areas (foci), each is presented 

chronologically so as to depict seamlessly the professional development of the interrogator described. Th is chronological focus approach also aids comprehension. Of 

course, the interrogators’ experiences were much greater in number than the few 

highlighted by the case studies. However, the featured interrogations are particularly 

instructive thanks to their concise distillation of the interrogators’ modus operandi. 

Methodological Considerations

To contextualize the reported fi ndings accurately, the reader must be 

mindful of several considerations that are endemic to the methodology:

First, each of the featured interrogators obviously had a vested interest in 

casting a favorable light upon his interrogation performance. Consequently, they 

all had reason to relate information selectively in their publications and interview. 

Such selectivity could potentially alter perceptions of the interrogators’ eff ectiveness, or reduce presentation of coercive interrogation techniques that might be 

abhorrent to their audiences. Indeed, if the featured interrogators had utilized 

unreported coercive techniques, they might have feared censure or prosecution for 

reporting such activities.

Th e goal of the study is to generate hypotheses as to how the professional 

development of these interrogators contributed to their eff ectiveness. Yet, in highlighting the approaches utilized by each interrogator, we must acknowledge that their 

achievements in Vietnam may not be easily replicated in other operational environments. Cultural and historical peculiarities may preclude full transfer of the interrogators’ approaches in an Asian culture to predominantly Arab cultures. For example, 

religious ideology generally played less of a role in motivating Vietnamese sources 

than it does for those who are members of Muslim extremist organizations.

We shall consider an interrogator to be eff ective when a source wittingly 

or unwittingly provides information that an impartial observer would view as 

detrimental to the welfare of the source’s originating combatant organization or 

cause. Naturally, an interrogator can exhibit varying levels of eff ectiveness on a 

continuum ranging from limited to total.

Th ree case studies do not suffi ce to confi rm hypotheses developed through 

Grounded Research. Instead, these case studies served to generate hypotheses 

for future exploration and testing. Realistically, such testing is only valid with 

larger data sets than are examined here.
| 83

Overview

Th e fi rst section provides a brief history of U.S. involvement in Vietnam. 

By extension, it also highlights the complex political and operational environment encountered by DeForest, Herrington, and Tourison in Vietnam.

Th e next section reviews the existing literature associated with wartime 

interrogation. In so doing, it identifi es the many variables weighing upon the 

outcome of an interrogation. Many of these variables can best be described 

as barriers to success. Diversifi cation of such barriers has presented unprecedented challenges to U.S. interrogators during the early years of the GWOT. 

Th us, the literature review focuses on successful interrogators from history 

who off ered informed advice to their present-day counterparts. Specifi cally, it 

considers the lessons off ered by Hanns Scharff , Sherwood Moran, R.W.G. Stephens, and Michael Koubi. Th eir observations comprise a helpful context for 

analyzing the experiences of U.S. interrogators in Vietnam. 

Th e subsequent three sections present individual case studies that narrate 

the professional development and interrogations of Tourison, Herrington, and 

DeForest, respectively. Th e case studies are presented in a manner that highlights 

the perceived enablers of the interrogators’ successes. At the conclusion of each 

section, the researcher highlights the most prominent of the enabling factors.

Th e fi rst centers on Sedgwick D. Tourison of the U.S. Army. As a noncommissioned offi cer assigned to the Combined Intelligence Center–Vietnam 

(CICV) in Saigon from 1965 to 1967, Tourison interrogated enemy prisoners 

of war in battlefi eld and detention center environments. He employed a diverse 

range of interrogation techniques and relied heavily upon document exploitation to support his eff orts.

Th e second study features Stuart A. Herrington, a captain in the U.S. 

Army. Herrington served as an intelligence advisor for the Phoenix Program 

in Hau Nghia province, South Vietnam, from 1971 to 1973. Frustrated by lack 

of support for the Phoenix Program among his South Vietnamese counterparts, Herrington focused instead on recruitment and operational employment of former NVA and Vietcong operatives for intelligence collection.

Th e third study focuses on Orrin DeForest, who from 1968 to 1975 served 

as an interrogator for the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) in Bien Hoa, South 

Vietnam. DeForest created and managed an elaborate interrogation center that 

employed unorthodox techniques to obtain intelligence from persons who 

defected from the NVA or the Vietcong. He developed a comprehensive intelligence databank to support the interrogations and intelligence collection operations conducted by his subordinates.

Th e fi nal section advances hypotheses as to why Tourison, Herrington, 

and DeForest succeeded as interrogators. Th ese hypotheses could inform future 

research on the eff ectiveness of interrogation techniques as well as selection criteria for eff ective interrogators.
84 |

U.S. Involvement in Vietnam: Th e Historical Context179

To appreciate the complex operational environment encountered by 

DeForest, Herrington, and Tourison, the reader must understand the modern 

179 NOTE: The researcher’s general depiction of the Vietnam War was informed by Stanley 

Karnow, Vietnam: A History, 2nd rev ed. (New York: Penguin Books, 1997).

South Vietnam prior to Communist victory.

Source: Central Intelligence Agency.
| 85

history of Vietnam. Th e following historical summary provides a context to 

explain U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia.

At the conclusion of World War II, France sought to reassert control of 

traditional colonial possessions in Southeast Asia that had fallen under Axis 

control following France’s surrender to Germany in 1940. One of these possessions was Vietnam, which had become a French colony in the late 19th century. 

In 1946, Vietnamese nationalists (Viet Minh) under the leadership of the communist Ho Chi Minh reacted to French aspirations by undertaking an armed 

insurrection aimed at expelling the French. Th is insurrection was eventually 

supported by the Soviet Union (USSR) and the People’s Republic of China 

(PRC), both of which saw an opportunity to advance communism in Vietnam. 

Beginning in 1950, the U.S. provided fi nancial, material, and advisory support 

to France via the Military Assistance Advisory Group, Indochina. Nonetheless, 

this support was insuffi cient to prevent the Viet Minh from decisively defeating French forces, which surrendered in 1954 and withdrew per the negotiated 

terms of the Geneva Accords.

Th e U.S. supported France for reasons of political expediency. American 

leaders wished to strengthen their relationship with France in preparation for 

a potential confl ict with the Soviet Bloc in Europe. Furthermore, U.S. leaders 

subscribed to the then-prevalent belief that French withdrawal from Vietnam 

would create a power vacuum that would leave the fl edgling nation vulnerable 

to communist takeover. Aft er all, the U.S. was then engaged in a fi erce ideological struggle with communism, which it perceived as a growing menace threatening to spread from the Soviet Bloc, China, and North Korea to vulnerable 

“domino” states in Southeast Asia. Nonetheless, this support did not prevent 

the French defeat.

Th e Geneva Accords granted Vietnam independence from France and 

temporarily partitioned the country at the 17th Parallel, pending the outcome 

of nationwide democratic elections scheduled for 1956. In the north, Viet Minh 

leaders established a de facto communist state that was soon recognized by the 

USSR and the PRC. Th e south, with the support of the U.S., formed a non-communist government whose leaders later declined to participate in the planned 

democratic election of 1956. Th ey feared Ho Chi Minh would win the election 

and southerners would be forced to accept communist rule from the North. 

Th us, the temporary division of Vietnam led to an ideological fault line, with 

communist nations supporting North Vietnam and democratic nations supporting South Vietnam.

Fearful that communists in the North would succeed in their eff orts to 

overthrow the anti-communist government of the South, U.S. President John F. 

Kennedy pledged military and fi nancial support to President Ngo Dinh Diem in 

1961. Th e newly formed U.S. Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV) 

faced North Vietnamese Army (NVA) forces infi ltrating from the North as 

well as irregular Vietcong forces in the South which sought to overthrow the 
86 |

notoriously corrupt government through guerrilla warfare. Th roughout the 

early 1960s the U.S. consistently increased its commitments to South Vietnam, 

but aft er passage of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution in August 1964 U.S. forces 

assumed primary combat responsibilities. Indeed, by 1968 the U.S. had over 

537,000 troops in country.180

MACV forces consistently defeated NVA and organized Vietcong units 

during infrequent battles between large opposing forces. However, Vietcong 

insurgents proved an elusive and lethal foe. Using snipers, sappers, assassins, 

and ambushes, the Vietcong attrited MACV and South Vietnamese forces. Yet, 

MACV’s massive infusion of arms, troops, and training during the administration of President Lyndon B. Johnson enabled the South Vietnamese government 

to regain daytime control of many rural villages and suppress the Vietcong insurgency. U.S. personnel, such as Army interrogator Sedgwick Tourison, rightly 

believed the capabilities of communist forces in South Vietnam were steadily 

diminishing.181 Nonetheless, these gains came at a high cost to the U.S.: in 1967 

alone, the nation endured over 11,000 combat deaths, and a growing, but vocal, 

minority of Americans questioned the wisdom of U.S. involvement.182

Frustrated by their lack of military progress, communist leaders in North 

Vietnam undertook a radical shift in strategy that would stun American leaders and reverse MACV’s battlefi eld successes by shattering U.S. public support 

for the war. During the Tet holiday of 1968, NVA and Vietcong forces launched 

a daring nationwide off ensive that would prove a tactical military disaster but 

a strategic psychological victory over their U.S. and South Vietnamese enemies. 

Told by the Johnson Administration and MACV that NVA and Vietcong forces 

were in terminal decline due to U.S. successes on the battlefi eld, the American 

public was stunned on 30 January when NVA/Vietcong forces launched nearsimultaneous attacks on 36 out of 44 provincial capitals, 5 out of 6 major cities, 58 

smaller towns, and numerous U.S. military bases in Vietnam.183 NVA/Vietcong 

attackers also penetrated the walls of the U.S. Embassy in Saigon while American 

news cameras documented the surprise assault. However, the greatest eff ect of the 

attack was political. Tet opened a chasm of distrust between the American people 

and their government. So great was public disillusionment aft er Tet that it would 

heavily infl uence President Johnson’s decision not to run for re-election and mark 

the beginning of the U.S. disengagement from Vietnam.

180 U.S. Department of Defense, “Deployment of Military Personnel by Country as of 30 

September 1968,” URL: http://siadapp.dmdc.osd.mil/personnel/MILITARY/history/hst0968.xls, 

accessed on 11 June 2007.

181 Sedgwick D. Tourison, Jr., Talking with Victor Charlie: An Interrogator’s Story (New York: 

Ballantine Books, 1991), 247. Cited hereafter as Talking with Victor Charlie. 

182 “Statistical information about casualties of the Vietnam Conflict,” National Archives and 

Records Administration website, URL: http://www.archives.gov/research/vietnam-war/casualtystatistics.html#year, accessed 12 June 2007.

183 John Hughes-Wilson, Military Intelligence Blunders and Cover-Ups (New York: Carol & 

Graf Publishers, 1999), 205.
| 87

From 1969 to 1973, U.S. combat forces gradually withdrew from South 

Vietnam and U.S. personnel resumed the advisory roles they held prior to 

“Americanization” of the confl ict under presidents Kennedy and Johnson. During this “Vietnamization” phase of the confl ict, President Nixon dispatched 

advisors such as Stuart Herrington and Orrin DeForest to prepare their South 

Vietnamese counterparts for the inevitable onslaught from the North. With the 

signing of the Paris Peace Accords in January 1973, the U.S. ended all direct 

military action against North Vietnam and left the South Vietnamese to determine their own fate. 

Th ough they had benefi ted from U.S. military equipment and many years 

of joint training, South Vietnamese forces proved inept at stemming NVA off ensives during the spring of 1975. On 30 April 1975, NVA forces captured South 

Vietnam’s capital, Saigon, as Americans and desperate South Vietnamese fl ed 

the grounds of the U.S. Embassy by helicopter. Among them were Herrington 

and DeForest. Aft er immense commitments spanning a quarter century, the 

U.S.’s frustrating ordeal in Vietnam had fi nally ended.

While costly to America, the war exacted an even heavier toll on the 

South Vietnamese, whose unlucky fate placed them on the fault line between 

competing political ideologies. In all, approximately one-half million died.184

Barriers to Interrogator Success: A Framework for Viewing 

Interrogation

Depictions of interrogation on television frequently leave viewers with 

the impression that interrogators are individuals of uncanny intuition who are 

singularly capable of tricking or frightening prisoners into revealing information of interest. While an interrogator must indeed be perceptive and assertive, 

this frequently does not suffi ce to gain a source’s cooperation. In fact, the wise 

interrogator seeks to bring many sources of leverage to bear in devising a synergistic interrogation strategy that is suffi cient to overcome barriers to success. 

Most of these barriers arise naturally in a wartime interrogation environment. 

Consequently, they can be characterized as endemic. However, additional barriers are specifi c to the individual relationship between a particular interrogator 

and a particular source. Th e interrogator can directly infl uence these relationship-specifi c barriers.

Endemic barriers result from the inherently adversarial nature of interrogation. By virtue of their affi liation with an adversarial force or movement, 

prisoners will almost always seek to withhold information of interest to the 

interrogator. Oft en this information would harm the prisoner’s cause if disclosed. Even in instances where the prisoner has no ideological motivations, the 

revelation of information might endanger the prisoner’s close associates, impli184 David Martin, “Civilian Casualties: ‘What A Horrendous Number That Is,’” CBS News, 9 

July 2007, URL: <http://www.cbsnews.com/blogs/2007/07/09/couricandco/entry3033134.

shtml>, accessed 11 July 2007.
88 |

cate the prisoner in illegal acts, or expose a greater degree of subject knowledge 

than the prisoner wishes to acknowledge. 

Compounding the inherently adversarial nature of interrogation are naturally occurring linguistic, cultural, and interpersonal barriers, described by 

Steven Kleinman in “Barriers to Success: Critical Challenges in Developing a 

New Educing Information Paradigm.”185 In their totality these systemic barriers can be represented conceptually as a brick wall separating the interrogator 

and the prisoner. Th e wall hides the prisoner’s knowledge from the view of the 

interrogator. Oft en the prisoner will seek to heighten the wall’s protective value 

by personally adding a layer of barriers in the form of bluff s, denial, obfuscation, 

or vitriol. As we shall see, skilled interrogators can oft en reduce sources’ motivations for hardening their negotiating positions with these additional relationship-specifi c barriers.186

Hoping to scale the wall, prudent interrogators will employ the full array 

of resources at their disposal. Resources such as analytical support, subject matter experts, intelligence databases, technical surveillance, and informants comprise a ladder upon which interrogators may stand and increase their ability to 

surmount the barriers to success that prevent access to a source’s knowledge.

Once an interrogation session begins, interrogator and source each has 

opportunities to create leverage through skillful maneuver. As he/she sees fi t, the 

interrogator controls the prisoner’s physical movements, allows or disallows external stimuli (such as correspondence, news, and companionship), and provides 

incentives for cooperation and disincentives for resistance. While signifi cant, these 

sources of leverage are arguably inferior to those controlled by the prisoner.187

If the interrogator ultimately succeeds in securing the prisoner’s cooperation, the prisoner may remove the personal resistance barriers added to the 

wall and actively assist the interrogator by swift ly dismantling the portions of 

the wall composed of naturally occurring barriers. For instance, a prisoner may 

ultimately become an informant and pleasantly surprise the interrogator by 

revealing that he is fl uent in the primary language of the interrogator, yet the 

informant may choose to keep other sections of the wall in place.

Th e prisoner’s ability to eliminate naturally occurring barriers to wartime interrogation highlights the advantages of a “pull” vs. “push” interrogation 

strategy. As Kleinman astutely observes, many benefi ts potentially accrue to the 

185 Steven M. Kleinman, “Barriers to Success: Critical Challenges in Developing a New Educing Information Paradigm,” in Educing Information—Interrogation: Science and Art. Foundations for 

the Future. Phase 1 Report of the Intelligence Science Board, (Washington: National Defense Intelligence College, 2006), 251. Cited hereafter as Kleinman on “Barriers to Success” in Educing 

Information.

186 Kleinman on KUBARK in Educing Information, 135.

187 Kleinman on “Barriers to Success” in Educing Information, 251
| 89

interrogator who attracts, rather than compels, a prisoner’s cooperation. Most 

important, the prisoner can lead the interrogator to information he did not suspect to be within the prisoner’s sphere of knowledge. 188

In instances where the source appears to cooperate, the interrogator must 

realize that his/her cooperation is of an indeterminate duration. A source who 

loses confi dence in the interrogator may revert to an overtly or covertly uncooperative state. Furthermore, the interrogator would be wise to realize that even 

cooperative sources will likely withhold some information as insurance for the 

future. By carefully meting out disclosures of desirable information the source can 

increase his/her leverage and prolong favorable treatment by the interrogator.

Endemic Barriers

Language

Interrogators, or at least their interpreters, must typically possess fl uency in the language(s) spoken by their sources;189 otherwise, the interrogator 

is irreparably handicapped in his/her eff orts to understand and persuade the 

source. Yet, despite being a superpower with a need to conduct military operations throughout the world, the U.S. frequently struggles to recruit and train 

an adequate supply of linguistically and culturally qualifi ed interrogators.190 To 

rectify this shortfall during the Vietnam War and GWOT, the U.S. Government 

hired foreign national interpreters on a temporary basis and stepped up eff orts 

to recruit native speakers in the U.S.

Clearly, employment of language-qualifi ed interrogators is preferable to 

reliance upon interpreters. Th e use of interpreters creates numerous communications, logistical, and security concerns. First, translation unavoidably slows 

the fl ow of communication between the interrogator and the source. Second, an 

interpreter’s imperfect knowledge of the interrogator’s intentions can potentially 

distort communication. Moreover, diff erences in emphasis and body language 

mean that even an interpreter with perfect understanding of the interrogator’s 

intentions may not be fully able to convey the interrogator’s intended message. 

Together, these limitations can degrade interrogators’ confi dence that they can 

successfully orchestrate a given interrogation strategy. Besides decreasing interrogation eff ectiveness, reliance on foreign national interpreters increases the 

logistical and managerial footprint of mobile interrogation teams. Furthermore, 

188 Kleinman on KUBARK in Educing Information, 135.

189 Kleinman on “Barriers to Success” in Educing Information, 237.

190 Kleinman on “Barriers to Success” in Educing Information, 236-244.
90 |

security and counterintelligence resources must be allocated toward ensuring 

the trustworthiness of the interpreters.191

Culture

Regardless of the particulars of an interrogation, a professional interrogator will typically seek to off er sources an attractive rationale for cooperation with the interrogator. However, this fundamental goal of interrogation can 

be quickly derailed if the interrogator does not possess keen insight into the 

source’s culture. For instance, the guilt-based strategies that many U.S. interrogators consider useful in a Western societal context may have little or no impact 

upon a source who hails from a shame-based society in Asia or the Middle 

East.192 Th us, the interrogator must remain mindful of cultural peculiarities 

when devising and implementing an interrogation strategy. Nevertheless, the 

acquisition of cultural intelligence requires considerable exposure to the source’s 

culture and increases the time needed for the U.S. Government to fi eld a large 

component of profi cient interrogators in any given theater of war. Th is limitation affl icted the U.S. in both Vietnam and the GWOT.193

Interpersonal and Intrapersonal Dynamics

Even without barriers of language and culture, a multitude of subtle interpersonal and intrapersonal dynamics inevitably complicates any relationship 

between two individuals. Th roughout the interrogation process, the interrogator must constantly assess the status of the interrogation not only from his/her 

own perspective, but also from that of the source. Without mentally placing 

himself in the source’s circumstances the interrogator cannot devise an appealing rationale for the source’s cooperation. Th erefore, the interrogator must 

strive constantly to understand and exploit the unique “drivers” underpinning 

the source’s negotiating position. Of course, this is easier said than done, for it 

entails the treacherously imprecise task of anticipating another person’s objectives and reactions. Aft er all, the source’s verbal and non-verbal feedback to the 

interrogator may be limited, contradictory, or incomprehensible. Nonetheless, 

the interrogator has little choice but to rely upon such feedback as a real-time 

diagnostic assessment of his/her strategy. Upon deciding that a given interrogation strategy is failing, the interrogator must adroitly modify his/her approach 

while ensuring overall consistency with past and planned statements to the 

source.194

191 Kleinman on “Barriers to Success” in Educing Information, 238. 

192 Kleinman on “Barriers to Success” in Educing Information, 232.

193 Kleinman on “Barriers to Success” in Educing Information, 244-246.

194 Kleinman on “Barriers to Success” in Educing Information, 250-259.
| 91

Th e Unknown

Prior to beginning discourse with a prospective source, an interrogator 

should seek to obtain all available information about the source. By securing 

basic biographical information the interrogator can assess the likelihood that the 

source knows information that the interrogator is seeking. In addition, the interrogator’s possession of biographical data will reduce the source’s latitude to deny 

his/her true identity or falsely claim ignorance. While the acquisition of simple 

biographical information would seem easy, it is oft en surprisingly diffi cult for a 

number of reasons. Enemy combatants are oft en captured in large numbers and 

have limited identifi cation documentation. Even if a detainee’s name is known, it 

may prove diffi cult to query intelligence databases because of ambiguities in deciphering foreign naming conventions and distinguishing among common names. 

In most cases, intelligence databases are unlikely to contain useful information 

simply because the information has not been developed previously.

Sources of Interrogator Leverage

Teams

Once the source’s identity is known the interrogator seeks to obtain specifi c intelligence data from him/her. Some topics, such as military order of battle, are of a suffi ciently general nature that even an inexperienced interrogator 

can comprehend the information. However, high-ranking or technically-oriented sources possess knowledge about topics that may exceed the expertise 

and comprehension of the average interrogator. In such cases, the interrogator 

benefi ts from access to intensive analytical support and counsel from subject 

matter experts. Th ough helpful before and aft er interrogation sessions, these 

assisting individuals oft en cannot provide detailed inputs to the interrogator 

during the actual interrogation.195

As an interrogator himself, the researcher can confi rm that interrogation 

is mentally draining for both the source and interrogator. Th us, in many situations it is also advantageous to work jointly with another interrogator. As Kleinman notes, the interrogator must constantly view interrogation proceedings 

from multiple vantage points. Having a partner eases this strain by reducing 

the number of conversational, contextual, and informational inputs that a lone 

interrogator must process in a given period of time. Additionally, using two 

interrogators gives the source an opportunity to select the one with whom he or 

she would prefer to converse. If it proves benefi cial from a resource or eff ectiveness standpoint, the less favored interrogator can disengage from subsequent 

interrogations.

195 Kleinman on “Barriers to Success” in Educing Information, 248-250.
92 |

Technical Monitoring and Informants

In many cases, experienced interrogators turn to a range of specialists for 

assistance that sometimes yields greater quantities of intelligence than interrogations 

themselves. When suitable facilities are available, technicians can oft en install listening 

devices in detainees’ quarters to secretly capture ostensibly private conversations. In 

instances where the interrogator wishes to prompt a detainee to speak about a specifi c 

topic, the interrogator may insert a cooperative detainee (known as a “stool pigeon” or 

“birdie”) into the immediate environment of a targeted detainee. Th e resulting conversation can be picked up by technicians manning listening equipment; alternatively, the 

informant can be debriefed and quietly rewarded for his/her betrayal of compatriots.

Review of U.S. Government Research

In view of the considerable barriers to successful wartime interrogation, 

one might reasonably expect the U.S. Government to have regularly conducted 

interrogation research to assist its practitioners. However, this is not the case. 

While it may strain the reader’s credulity, it is nonetheless true that the CIA’s 

declassifi ed KUBARK manual of 44 years ago represents the U.S. Government’s 

latest social science research in this fi eld so important for national security.196

CIA KUBARK Manual

In 1963 the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) produced the KUBARK Counterintelligence Interrogation Manual to guide its interrogators during the height of 

the Cold War.197 When declassifi ed in 1997, KUBARK attracted criticism due to its 

discussion of coercive interrogation techniques.198 Despite containing contentious 

material, KUBARK is actually a thoughtful and nuanced guide to interrogation.

In “KUBARK Counterintelligence Interrogation Review: Observations of 

an Interrogator,” Steven Kleinman points out that the KUBARK manual off ers 

numerous lessons to interrogators, particularly by stressing their need to develop 

rapport with their sources systematically. For instance, KUBARK encourages 

the interrogator to ask himself the following question before beginning an 

interrogation: “How can I make him (the source) want to tell me what he knows?” 

rather than “How can I trap him into disclosing what he knows?”(emphasis in the 

original).199 KUBARK also recommends that interrogators treat each source 

as a unique individual and tailor interrogation plans in a manner that makes it 

attractive for the source to provide the intelligence desired.200

196 Fein in Educing Information, xiii.

197 Central Intelligence Agency, KUBARK Counterintelligence Interrogation (Washington, DC, 

July 1963), 1. Cited hereafter as KUBARK

198 Kleinman on KUBARK in Educing Information, 96.

199 Kleinman on KUBARK in Educing Information, 103.

200 Kleinman on KUBARK in Educing Information, 96.
| 93

While acknowledging that “some interrogators are more able than others; 

and some of their superiority may be innate,”201 KUBARK identifi es four characteristics as essential for an eff ective interrogator:

(1) enough operational training and experience to permit 

quick recognition of leads; (2) real familiarity with the language to be used; (3) extensive background knowledge about 

the interrogatee’s native country; and (4) a genuine understanding of the source as a person....Of the four traits listed, 

a genuine insight into the source’s character and motives is 

perhaps most important but least common.202

With respect to the fourth attribute, KUBARK stresses the importance for the 

interrogator to have a basic understanding of human psychology, whether he 

employs it in a conscious or unconscious manner during interrogations.203

Far from depicting the gathering of intelligence as the sole pursuit of the 

interrogator, KUBARK stresses the need for subject matter experts, analysts, 

screeners, and monitoring devices to focus and bolster the interrogator’s personal 

eff orts. Th e manual counsels the interrogator to exploit every available advantage 

aggressively, rather than off er his source a “fair” match in the interrogation room. 

Th is pragmatic, yet holistic, approach is eloquently stated: “[T]he KUBARK questioner should aim not for a personal triumph but for his true goal—the acquisition of all needed information by any authorized means.”204

Having noted the near absence of formal wartime interrogation research, 

let us turn our attention to other valuable sources of information—interrogation narratives and interrogators’ observations. 

A Vietnam Case Study: Nguyen Tai

“Th e Man in the Snow White Cell” is an interrogation case study by Merle 

Pribbenow, formerly a Vietnamese translator and operations offi cer for the CIA. 

“Cell” is unusual because it draws upon open source materials written by both 

the interrogators and their source, Nguyen Tai. Th e highest-ranking North Vietnamese intelligence offi cer ever interrogated by the U.S. and South Vietnam, Tai 

represented a potential treasure trove of information because he knew the identities of communist spies in South Vietnam and was well connected to North Vietnamese elites. In an eff ort to open this treasure, South Vietnamese and Americans 

alternately interrogated Tai for more than two years. Whereas American interrogators used polygraph tests and psychological tests, and exploited Tai’s desire 

201 KUBARK, 1.

202 KUBARK, 10-11.

203 KUBARK, 1.

204 KUBARK, 14.
94 |

for companionship, South Vietnamese interrogators tortured Tai with electric 

shocks, beatings, simulated drowning, and painful stress positions. Nonetheless, 

Tai generally succeeded in withstanding these combined pressures by focusing on 

his desire to honor the communist party and his family. In fact, Tai systematically 

manipulated his interrogators to misdirect their queries, protect his comrades, 

and even improve his own conditions in detention. Th e case study highlights the 

fundamentally adversarial nature of interrogation, as well as interrogators’ limitations when confronting a skilled and motivated source. 205

Review of Interrogators’ Personal Accounts

A handful of professional wartime interrogators recorded their experiences by writing detailed memoirs or granting in-depth interviews. A review of 

their accounts provides a useful context for case studies of our three Vietnamera interrogators. Each of the interrogators selected for this portion of the literature review was a highly experienced, full-time practitioner during wartime or 

sustained confl ict. Th e interrogators are presented chronologically.

205 Merle L. Pribbenow, “The Man in the Snow White Cell: Limits to Interrogation,” Studies 

in Intelligence 48, no. 1 (2004). 

Lieutenant Colonel R.W.G. Stephens, 

Commandant of M15’s Camp 020. 

Source: Photograph courtesy of the 

Imperial War Museum, London, UK, 

Negative #66769, 26 June 2008.
| 95

R.W.G. “Tin Eye” Stephens 

During World War II the British counterintelligence service, MI5, 

detained and interrogated 480 suspected Nazi spies at a specially confi gured 

facility in London known as Camp 020.206 Lieutenant Colonel Robin William 

George (R.W.G.) “Tin Eye” Stephens served as the commandant of Camp 020 

throughout its existence and aft er the war authored a Top Secret account of its 

accomplishments titled A Digest of Ham. Originally written for internal MI5 

use, A Digest of Ham was released to the British public in 1999 and was soon 

featured in the book Camp 020 and the Nazi Spies. 

As commandant, Stephens frequently elected to conduct the initial interrogation of suspected Nazi spies. Without exception, Stephens sought to “break” 

a source’s initial resistance by creating a tense physical and psychological setting 

akin to a formal military court-martial. To create this setting, the source was 

marched into the initial session, ordered to remain standing at attention, and 

barraged with rapid-fi re questions and statements from Stephens. For maximum eff ect, Stephens was surrounded by a large supporting panel of offi cers 

who functioned as an intimidating backdrop. During interrogations, additional 

Camp 020 staff aided Stephens by fulfi lling pre-assigned roles as reports offi -

cers, stenographers, and translators. 

Stephens believed there were two necessary types of interrogators: “breakers” and “investigators.” Following the initial interrogation by a breaker such as 

Stephens, subordinates employed as investigators would conduct subsequent 

sessions. Th e job of the breaker was to quickly obtain an initial admission of 

guilt and a written confession from the source, whereas the investigator was to 

exploit the “break” and obtain detailed intelligence for reports. At this point, 

the interrogator’s relationship with the source would become less adversarial. 

Stephens perceived the greater responsibility to be his—that of the breaker. 

Regardless, the overarching objective of both interrogator types was “Truth in 

the shortest possible time.”207

Stephens opined that an eff ective breaker “is born and not made.”208 Th e 

breaker must be highly motivated by an “implacable hatred for the enemy,” 

which results in an “aggressive approach,” “disinclination to believe” without 

corroboration, and “relentless determination.” Stephens also sought interrogators with “common sense” born of life, travel, and war experiences. He viewed 

such experiences, along with wide-ranging personal interests, as essential for 

stimulating and sustaining conversations with sources. Stephens concluded that 

an interrogator’s eff ectiveness depended largely upon subjective characteristics 

206 Camp 020, Appendix.

207 Camp 020, 109.

208 Camp 020, 107.
96 |

such as personality, mood, and acting ability.209 Noting that some interrogators would necessarily be incompatible with certain types of sources, Stephens 

praised interrogators who, without jealousy, could step aside and allow a colleague to assume control of an interrogation, with the odds of success increased 

as a result. While all Camp 020 interrogators were bilingual, Stephens noted 

that linguistic ability was helpful but by itself insuffi cient to qualify as an 

interrogator.

In many respects, Stephens described himself. Before assuming command of Camp 020 at age 40, Stephens had traveled to at least fi ft een countries 

and claimed varying levels of profi ciency in seven foreign languages. In addition, Stephens had experienced armed combat as a military offi cer stationed in 

India and served as a journalist, magistrate, and assistant judge advocate. It is 

unclear what formal interrogation training Stephens received aft er joining MI5 

in 1939.210 However, Stephens’ writings leave no doubt that he truly hated the 

Nazi enemy.

Even though Nazi spies were not considered prisoners of war (POWs), 

and thus not protected under the Geneva Convention, Stephens refused to 

authorize or use physical force against them: “For one thing it is the act of a 

coward. For another, it is unintelligent, for the spy will give an answer to please, 

an answer to escape punishment.”211

Rather than violence, Stephens considered the information stored in intelligence databases as the interrogator’s greatest source of leverage. Such intelligence, typically derived from communications intercepts, captured documents, 

and interrogations of other spies, was used to refute sources’ cover stories and 

denials. Indeed, Stephens stressed that an interrogation session was only the 

highlight of a much broader intelligence collection system supported by numerous personnel who spent less time in the limelight than the breaker: “Interrogation is only a part of the pattern.... It is the inexperienced interrogator who 

arrogates to himself credit for a break.”212 At Camp 020, the British obtained 

much intelligence from electronic monitoring of source’s private conversations 

and cultivation of informants within the prison population. In fact, many interrogation sessions were not designed to generate immediate admissions, but to 

serve as precursors for the sources’ resultant conversations with peers.213

Stephens recognized the practical and legal distinction between POWs 

and spies. Th e former knew of their protections under the Geneva Convention 

and thus responded less to pressure. In looking at the Vietcong we will see a class 

of combatants who oft en bridged the divide between POWs and spies. As such, 

Stephens’ observations regarding both categories of sources are pertinent.

209 Camp 020, 107-109.

210 Camp 020, 8.

211 Camp 020, 118. 

212 Camp 020, 113.

213 Camp 020, 120-124.
| 97

Hanns Scharff

Perhaps the most esteemed of all wartime interrogators, Hanns Joachim 

Scharff served with the Luft waff e (German Air Force) during World War II. 

From 1943 to 1945 Scharff was responsible for interrogating U.S. and British airmen captured during combat missions over German-occupied Europe. 

Scharff collaborated with author Raymond F. Tolliver to recount his interrogation exploits in a book titled Th e Interrogator: Th e Story of Hanns Scharff , Luft -

waff e’s Master Interrogator.

Although the Luft waff e and Allied POWs came to regard Scharff as a singularly capable interrogator, Scharff ’s emergence as one was largely accidental. 

When World War II broke out in 1939, Scharff was happily employed in South 

Africa as the Director of the Overseas Division of Adlerwerke, a large German manufacturing fi rm. While vacationing in Germany during the summer 

of 1939, Scharff was unable to return home aft er the outbreak of war. He was 

eventually draft ed into the German Army in 1943, then transferred to a translators’ school because of his language skills, and ultimately assigned to the Luft -

waff e Intelligence and Evaluation Center, Auswertestelle West, near Frankfurt, 

Germany. Th ere, Scharff would capitalize upon the ten enjoyable years he had 

previously spent with Britons in England and South Africa. Indeed, Scharff ’s 

Hanns Scharff in 1943 after induction 

into the German military.

Source: Scharff Collection, with 

permission, 3 June 2008.
98 |

understanding of the English language and British culture also stemmed from 

a more personal source: Scharff was married to the daughter of a British squadron leader who as a fi ghter pilot had fought against Germany in World War I.

“Poker Face” Scharff was revered for his ability to convince enemy fl yers 

that he possessed encyclopedic information about them and their units. Th erefore, he would request prisoners simply “confi rm” information he ostensibly 

possessed in order to verify that they were legitimate POWs, not spies. Indeed, 

Scharff did know a good deal about the fl yers and their units because he was 

aided by an extensive intelligence apparatus that methodically exploited fl yers’ captured documents, intercepted radio transmissions, analyzed crash sites, 

combed Allied news publications, employed prison “stool pigeons,” and coordinated with German intelligence agents. 

With fl yers’ identities and truthfulness now “proven” through their disclosure of additional intelligence, Scharff would tell prisoners their interrogations were concluded. Scharff would then disarm and entertain his prisoners 

by sharing jokes, meals, cigarettes, and outdoor recreation with them. On one 

occasion, Scharff even arranged for an enemy fl yer to pilot a German ME-109 

fi ghter (albeit with little fuel and no armament). With their defenses lowered, 

fl yers would reveal information about themselves and their units that Scharff 

would use as leverage during later interrogations of future prisoners. So convincing was Scharff ’s ruse of “knowing all” that many prisoners mistakenly 

believed their units in England were thoroughly infi ltrated by German spies. 

Although Scharff benefi ted professionally from his collegial relations 

with prisoners, he appeared to enjoy their company and respect them as 

equals. So cordial was Scharff that, like one of our featured interrogators, Sedgwick Tourison, he became a counterintelligence concern to his government. 

Perhaps the greatest validation of Scharff ’s collegial approach is that many of 

his former enemies welcomed him as a compatriot. Aft er the war Scharff emigrated to the U.S., where he pursued a third career and became a renowned 

mosaic artist. 

In commenting on the attributes critical to an interrogator, Scharff listed 

the following natural qualities: ambition, uprightness, conscientiousness, and 

a naturally ingratiating demeanor. Scharff ’s writings imply an imperative that 

the interrogator be someone whom a source would view as an intellectual and 

social equal. Otherwise, the interrogator would have little ability to establish 

rapport with the source. Th us, Scharff recommended that interrogators pursue a comprehensive general education and gain specialized life experiences 

of direct benefi t to their interrogation responsibilities. Scharff also placed great 

emphasis on writing abilities, noting that an interrogator’s worth could be measured by the number of quality intelligence reports he produced.214

214 Raymond F. Toliver with Hanns J. Scharff, The Interrogator: The Story of Hanns Scharff, 

Luftwaffe’s Master Interrogator (1978), 82.
| 99

Sherwood F. Moran

For a quarter century prior to World War II, American Sherwood 

Moran served as a Christian missionary in Japan. During this lengthy period 

he developed a sincere love for the Japanese people and their culture. However, he was deeply concerned by Japan’s burgeoning militarism and requested 

a commission in the U.S. Marine Corps following Japan’s attack on Pearl 

Harbor. Moran’s intimate knowledge of the enemy made him a rare and tremendous asset to the Marines. Moran excelled as an interrogator during the 

Guadalcanal campaign and sought to share his approach with colleagues by 

writing an impassioned letter titled “Suggestions for Japanese Interpreters 

Based on Work in the Field.” Th e letter, dated 17 July 1943, encouraged interrogators to treat Japanese prisoners with humanity and sincerity since they 

were no longer active combatants. Moran characterized the ideal interrogator 

as follows: 

Sherwood Moran (right) interrogating a Japanese aviator 

captured during the Battle of Guadalcanal, 17 December 

1942.

Source: AP photograph, U.S. Marine Corps, used with 

permission, 9 July 2008.
100 |

He should be a man of culture, insight, resourcefulness, and 

with real conversational ability. He must have “gags”; he must 

have a “line.” He must be alive; he must be warm; he must be 

vivid. But above all he must have integrity, sympathy; yet he 

must be fi rm, wise (“Wise as serpents but harmless as doves”). 

He must have dignity and a proper sense of values, but withal 

friendly, open and frank. Two characteristics I have not specifi cally mentioned: patience and tact. 215

Moran stressed that it was extraordinarily helpful for the interrogator to have 

lived in Japan, beyond simply knowing the country’s language. Both attributes were 

essential to Moran’s strategy of developing relational rapport aft er getting “into the 

mind and into the heart of the person being interviewed.”216 Moran encouraged 

interrogators to make the prisoners’ troubles the center of conversation during warm, 

informal conversations that would be held over cigarettes or tea. In such an environment the interrogator was understandably encouraged to dispense with drab questions in favor of fl attering and entertaining ones that would nonetheless elicit desired 

intelligence. Clearly such animated conversations required a great deal of energy 

from the interrogator, who was cautioned to limit the duration of each encounter lest 

he become stale. In the unusual event of a stand-offi sh prisoner, Moran advised the 

interrogator to “shame” the prisoner for his/her lack of courtesy, knowing from his 

experience in Japan that a prisoner would typically strive not to be shamed.

215 Major Sherwood F. Moran, U.S. Marine Corps Reserve, Suggestions for Japanese Interpreters based on Work in the Field, 17 July 1943, 2. Cited hereafter as Moran letter.

216 Moran letter, 3.

Michael Koubi.

Source: Israel Sun, Ltd., with 

permission, 11 July 2008.
| 101

Michael Koubi

For 21 years Michael Koubi served in Israel’s General Security Services 

(Shabak). As the agency’s chief interrogator from 1987 to 1993, he interrogated 

hundreds of Palestinian extremists. Koubi attributes his interrogation successes 

to four factors: meticulous preparation through review of background materials, mastery of the language spoken by Palestinian prisoners (Arabic), investigative follow-up to interrogations, and theatrics. Koubi explained his interrogation 

strategy during separate interviews with Michael Bond and Mark Bowden. 

New Scientist published Bond’s interview under the title of “Th e Enforcer.”217

Bowden’s interview formed a part of his larger feature, “Th e Dark Art of Interrogation,” in the journal Atlantic.218

Prior to beginning an interrogation session, Koubi sought to know everything possible about the prisoner’s background, neighborhood, associates, and 

interests. For example, when Koubi interviewed the former leader of Hamas, 

Sheikh Yassin, he prepared by memorizing much of the Koran. Th e purpose of 

such arduous preparation was to create a sense that the interrogator was all-knowing, wise, and in control. Koubi explained, “It’s about making them (prisoners) 

think they cannot hide anything from you.... If you feel your detainee is wiser than 

you and you cannot stand head to head then you must change interrogators.”219

In his youth, Koubi discovered a love for language and learned to speak Yiddish, Hebrew, and Arabic. He was so fl uent in Arabic that during interrogations he 

would frequently utilize diff erent regional dialects of Arabic to convince prisoners 

that he was familiar with the areas from which they hailed. Koubi complemented 

his language capabilities with an equally impressive penchant for acting and social 

engineering. For instance, he would cleverly arrange for prisoners to overhear their 

fellow prisoners making confessions that would seemingly implicate the prisoner 

under interrogation. In other cases Koubi would engineer ruses to convince prisoners that he would be willing to torture them if they did not cooperate. In fact, 

Koubi claims he never tortured, although he acknowledges using stress positions, 

slapping, and shaking to stun or soft en prisoners.

Koubi claims that he was able to obtain intelligence from virtually all of 

the individuals he interrogated. In instances where he could not obtain a confession he would oft en inform prisoners their interrogations were fi nished. Th e 

prisoner would be returned to the general prison population, where Koubi had 

planted informants, or “birdies,” who would engage the prisoner in conversations that led to disclosure of the information the prisoner had carefully safeguarded from Koubi.

217 Michael Koubi, “The Enforcer,” interview by Michael Bond in New Scientist, online ed. 

(22 November 2004), URL: http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-chat/1285748/posts, accessed 

24 May 2007. Cited hereafter as Koubi interview by Bond.

218 Mark Bowden, “The Dark Art of Interrogation,” Atlantic Monthl, (October 2003). URL: 

<www.theatlantic.com>, accessed 11 April 2003.

219 Koubi interview by Bond.
102 |

Common Th reads

Th e literature review suggests wartime interrogators benefi t greatly from 

using supporting assets such as informants, technical monitoring, databases, 

and background investigation. Also, all of the interrogators acknowledged that 

for the best results each prisoner must be treated as a unique case. 

Scharff , Moran, and Koubi were aided by intimate familiarity with the 

cultures and languages of their prisoners; Stephens’ prisoners generally spoke 

English by virtue of their assignments as alleged spies in Britain. Nonetheless, 

Stephens was highly traveled and multilingual. Scharff and Moran clearly felt 

some aff ection for their adversaries aft er having lived in their homelands for 

many years. Despite lacking intelligence backgrounds, both quickly learned the 

interrogator’s trade. 

Unlike his counterparts, Koubi found an advantage in the occasional use 

of physical violence. Stephens stressed the importance of tense confrontation to 

generate crippling psychological pressure on enemy spies. By contrast, Moran 

and Scharff generally focused on the advantages of building warm and collaborative relationships with enemy prisoners. Each of the interrogators found 

enough merit in his respective approach to advocate it through publication of 

memoirs, training aids, and interviews. 

While the literature review focused upon all types of wartime interrogation, the nature of the Vietnam confl ict narrows our focus to interrogation of 

enemy insurgents who generally waged asymmetrical warfare. Nonetheless, the 

personal attributes and interrogation techniques identifi ed can be generalized 

within several broad categories that will inform the case studies of DeForest, 

Herrington, and Tourison. Th ese general categories, listed below, will comprise 

the organizing foci for the upcoming case studies. 

• Motivations for Interrogator Success: What factors motivated the 

interrogators to excel? Possible fi ndings include professional ambition, 

mental challenge, ideology, patriotism, competitiveness, and strong 

feelings toward the enemy. 

• Personal Disposition and Interpersonal Communication Abilities: 

What innate talents and life experiences facilitated the interrogators’ 

development of interpersonal communication skills? Possible fi ndings 

include sheer intellect, acting ability, empathy, academic study, formal 

training, and participation in complex interpersonal relationships. 

• Cultural and Linguistic Expertise: Did the interrogators possess 

unusual insights into the culture and language of their adversaries? 

If so, possible contributing factors include foreign language training, 

foreign work experience, and relationships with foreigners. 

• Development of Tradecraft (Training and Experience): How did the 

subjects learn to conduct interrogations? Possible infl uences include 
| 103

formal interrogation training, self-directed study, law enforcement 

experience, mentorship by peers, benchmarking of foreign 

counterparts, and real-world experimentation. 

• Application of Tradecraft : In what manner did the subjects conduct 

interrogations? Th is discussion will highlight the subjects’ interrogation 

abilities and identify the strategies contributing to their successes 

or failures. Possible fi ndings include use of leverage from external 

resources such as technical monitoring or informants, unusual 

rapport with sources, implied or explicit threats of harsh treatment, 

subversion of sources’ ideological assumptions, and use of incentives 

to manipulate sources’ evaluation of alternatives.

• Diff usion of Knowledge to Peers and Subordinates: Did the interrogators 

succeed in teaching peers to replicate their successes? Possible 

examples of diff usion include mentorship, organizational leadership, 

formal training venues, publication of memoirs, public commentary 

on U.S. interrogation practices, and academic teaching.

Sedgwick Tourison: A Case Study

Sedgwick Tourison (left) in Hanoi speaking with Lt. Gen. Nguyen Dinh Uoc, 

Director of the Institute of Military History, October 2005.

Source: Tourison’s personal collection. Used with written permission granted to the 

author by Mr. Tourison.
104 |

[A] persistent shortage of trained, Vietnamese-speaking interrogators had seriously curtailed American eff orts to exploit 

human sources.... 

Sergeant Sedgwick Tourison deserves special mention. His 

professionalism and dedication to duty were consistently outstanding. He proved to be invaluable in key interrogations on 

numerous occasions.220

— Major General Joseph A. McChristian

A Travelin’ Man

In late 1958, young Sedgwick Tourison left Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, to 

begin his military career as a “ditty bop” trainee (Morse intercept operator) at 

Fort Devens, Massachusetts. Assigned to the Army Security Agency, Tourison 

saw much of the world during the next three years. Postings to Italy, Germany, 

and Turkey enabled him to travel broadly, even leading to an unsuccessful 

engagement to a lovely resident of Pordenone, Italy.221

In 1961 Tourison reenlisted for a second term of three years. Required to 

select a crypto-center specialist assignment in Asia, Tourison relied upon the 

advice of his grandfather in choosing Saigon: “Th at’s in Indochina, you know...

Good looking women, lots of French, you’ll love it!”222 Shortly aft er arriving, 

Tourison celebrated his 21st birthday as one of only several hundred American service personnel then in Vietnam. In hindsight, given the massive U.S. 

buildup that occurred between late 1965 and 1968, Tourison mused that his 

Post Exchange (PX) card number indicated that only about 900 Americans had 

preceded him to Vietnam.223

Getting to Know the Vietnamese

In April 1963 Tourison married Ping, a nineteen-year-old Vietnamese 

native of Chinese ancestry. However, this marriage to a foreign national prohibited Tourison from continuing to work in the sensitive cryptologic world. 

Th erefore, he and Ping left Vietnam for Monterey, California, where Tourison 

attended one year of Vietnamese language training at the Defense Language 

Institute (DLI). Learning Vietnamese tapped into Tourison’s love for foreign 

languages, enabling him for the fi rst time to excel in an academic setting. Previ220 Department of the Army, Vietnam Studies: The Role of Military Intelligence, 1965-1967, 

by Major General Joseph A. McChristian (Washington, DC, 1994), 26-27.

221 Talking with Victor Charlie, 3-4.

222 Talking with Victor Charlie, 4. 

223 Talking with Victor Charlie, 4-6.
| 105

ously, Tourison had studied French and Spanish at Girard College in Philadelphia, and had mastered Italian thanks to his earlier engagement and his travels 

in Italy.

Tourison returned to Saigon in July 1965 and initially fi lled a radio operator position before securing a transfer to a translator position on the intelligence 

staff (J-2) of MACV. Unlike his service comrades, Tourison was accompanied to 

the combat zone by his wife and their newborn son, Kenneth. While superiors 

criticized Tourison’s decision, he and his grandfather would have it no other 

way. Aft er all, Ping was still a Vietnamese citizen and could not be prevented 

from accompanying her husband at personal expense.224

Congratulations, Interrogator

Aft er three weeks at MACV J-2, Tourison was detailed as a translator/

interrogator to the Vietnamese J-2’s Military Interrogation Center (MIC). He 

prepared for his new interrogator responsibilities by reading interrogation 

reports, as well as Army fi eld manuals on intelligence interrogation (FM 30-15) 

and general military intelligence (FM 30-5). Tourison quickly found the interrogation manual was poorly suited to the counterinsurgency environment, since 

it had been written in preparation for confl icts that resembled World War II. 

To develop a detailed understanding of the complex political situation involving North Vietnam and the Vietcong, Tourison consulted frequently with an 

experienced colleague, James Potratz.225 Despite these consultations, Tourison 

found he was oft en hamstrung by his inability to understand the political and 

battlefi eld lexicon of the communists.226

“Linguistically speaking, the United States was not prepared for Vietnam 

in 1965,” notes Tourison.227 While the U.S. clearly did not have nearly enough 

Vietnamese linguists, the Defense Department also failed to prepare the few 

it had to hit the ground running in Vietnam. None of Tourison’s instructors 

at DLI was well-versed in the political and battlefi eld terminology of the Vietcong. Consequently, Tourison and other colleagues found they needed 6-9 

months of in-country on-the-job training to bolster their language abilities and 

become fully eff ective interrogators. Considering that standard military tours 

in Vietnam lasted only 12 months, Tourison found this training lag reduced 

operational eff ectiveness. Th e Army circumvented this delay in 1966 when it 

eliminated the requirement for deploying interrogators to receive Vietnamese 

language training.228

224 Talking with Victor Charlie, 12-13.

225 NOTE: During his interview with the researcher, Tourison clarified that James Potratz was 

referred to as “George” in Talking with Victor Charlie for identity protection. Potratz is a retired CIA 

operations officer. 

226 Talking with Victor Charlie, 26-30.

227 Talking with Victor Charlie, 30-32. 

228 Talking with Victor Charlie, 31.
106 |

Th e First Test

In September 1965 Operation BIG RED, carried out by the U.S. Army’s 

173rd Airborne Brigade, presented Tourison with his fi rst opportunity to conduct unsupervised interrogations. BIG RED was designed to disrupt Vietcong 

operations in the Long Nguyen Secret Zone, approximately 45 miles northwest of Saigon. Following the French withdrawal in 1955 the Secret Zone 

became a command and supply center for the Vietcong, whose fi rm control 

of the area was never seriously challenged by Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) forces. Because the 173rd Brigade lacked any interrogators with 

Vietnamese language fl uency, the MIC contributed a deployable “Go Team” to 

support the Brigade’s assault on the Secret Zone.229

During the 173rd’s initial sweep through a village within the Secret 

Zone, its troops captured two young girls clad in black pajamas who were 

blindfolded, restrained, and then transported to the 173rd’s forward headquarters. Th ere, Tourison interrogated one of the two girls while an ARVN 

lieutenant interrogated the other. Tourison began by gathering basic biographical information from his prisoner, who appeared nervous. Th e prisoner’s capture tag indicated her claim to be a 15-year-old cook. Noting the 

prisoner’s unease, Tourison removed her blindfold while leaving her arms 

tied behind her back.230

Tourison questioned the prisoner’s claimed age, telling her that her 

developed chest was not that of a fi ft een-year-old. Th e prisoner laughed and 

promptly admitted she was actually eighteen. Th e prisoner proceeded to tell 

Tourison that her presence in the Vietcong village was a result of falling in 

love with a young Vietcong agent who had withheld his full identity from her. 

Following her Vietcong boyfriend had resulted in her becoming employed 

as a cook at his Vietcong camp. Tourison gave the prisoner a piece of paper 

and pencil and directed her to draw a diagram of the camp where she was 

captured.

Wishing to coordinate his preliminary fi ndings with the ARVN lieutenant who was interrogating the other girl, Tourison left his prisoner in the care 

of a military policeman (MP). Tourison found the lieutenant in the midst of 

screaming, “You’re lying, you stupid motherfucker!” at the other girl. Clearly, 

the interrogation was not going well. Th e ARVN lieutenant broke off his interrogation and joined Tourison, along with another American and an ARVN 

interrogator, to discuss strategy over a quick meal.231

229 Talking with Victor Charlie, 39-40.

230 Talking with Victor Charlie, 64.

231 Talking with Victor Charlie, 64.
| 107

During the meal the ARVN personnel took the liberty of sharing general 

interrogation tips with their U.S. colleagues. Being new to the fi eld, Tourison 

listened attentively as his counterparts made the following points:232

1. Th e girls were unlikely to know anything of perishable value. 

2. Even truthful Vietcong sources never knowingly provided 

information that might bring harm to their immediate family or 

close friends. Th erefore, an unspoken accommodation was advisable. 

Truthful Vietcong sources should not be asked questions pertaining to 

their inner circle if they disclosed signifi cant information about distant 

acquaintances. 

3. Prisoners’ fear level must be carefully regulated. If they became too 

frightened they would invent false information in hopes of pleasing the 

interrogator. 

4. Civilians in Vietcong territory faced a perilous situation aft er 

interrogation by ARVN or U.S. forces. Th e Vietcong punished villagers 

for suspected collaboration. 

5. Th e interrogator should seek to learn everything about a source by 

carefully examining his or her personal possessions, clothing, and 

physical condition (scars, calluses, tan lines). Such clues oft en bolstered or 

undermined sources’ claims of identity. 

Upon resuming interrogation of the female Vietcong prisoner, Tourison 

applied the cultural knowledge gained from his ARVN peers. During the 

fi rst hour of the renewed interrogation, the prisoner proclaimed ignorance 

of topics about which she was presumably knowledgeable. Tourison recalled 

another bit of advice previously received from the ARVN lieutenant: Prisoners who claimed the “3 No’s” (“Know Nothing. Hear Nothing. See Nothing.”) 

were generally withholding information or claiming a false identity. Realizing he must change course, Tourison began laughing aloud. Th e prisoner was 

puzzled but said nothing. “Th e three no’s (tam khong),” said Tourison as he 

continued to laugh. Th e prisoner smiled girlishly, then began to chuckle as 

well. Tourison sensed an opportunity and used bluster to enhance his bona 

fi des and leverage:233

232 Talking with Victor Charlie, 66-69.

233 Talking with Victor Charlie, 69-70.
108 |

You see, we’re not as completely stupid as we might appear. We 

know the Vietcong very well. We know how they think and 

what they think. Take me, for example. I was born in Hai Phong. 

My parents were missionaries and I learned Vietnamese from 

playing with Vietnamese children. We left with the last group 

to fl y out of the air base at Son Tay in April 1955. So you see, 

I’m not just another stupid foreigner with a long, high nose. I 

know you think the information you might give me will cause 

a lot of your friends to be killed, but let’s face it, they’re all 

gone. We aren’t going to send bombs down on your old base 

camp if no one is there. Sure, we have lots of ammunition, but 

that would be wasteful. Nothing you can say now will cause 

any harm to come to your friends, so I’m going to let you think 

about what I’ve said. You know I’m telling the truth, and there 

is no reason for me to lie to you. You’ve been captured, and all 

we’re trying to do is determine whether you’re the kind of person we want to treat kindly because you’re truthful or whether 

you’re a liar who must be dealt with by much harsher means. 

Th e choice is up to you.” (Emphasis added) 234

Tourison walked away from the prisoner and left her to contemplate her situation. Meanwhile, Tourison checked the status of document exploitation (DOCEX) 

eff orts underway with materials seized by the 173rd at the camp where the two 

female Vietcong suspects were captured. Potratz, the other interrogator/interpreter, 

had determined that the camp in question was likely a provincial headquarters for 

the military, party committee, and the Liberation Front. Armed with this knowledge, Tourison and Potratz resumed interrogation of the Vietcong suspect.235

In the ensuing session, the prisoner disclosed that she belonged to the Vietcong and that she and her female colleague had been ordered to remain in the 

camp because they could not travel as quickly as the other Vietcong personnel, 

who fl ed in anticipation of an American raid. Expecting that U.S. forces would 

not permanently occupy the Vietcong camp and would release the two girls, the 

Vietcong commander instructed the girls to return to camp the following morning 

and prepare breakfast for the other Vietcong, who would also return at daybreak. 

Th is meant that Vietcong forces would be returning to the camp in less than eight 

hours.236

234 Talking with Victor Charlie, 70.

235 Talking with Victor Charlie, 70-72.

236 Talking with Victor Charlie, 71-72.
| 109

Tourison rewarded the newly cooperative prisoner with food as he continued eliciting information from her. During a conversation about cooking, the 

prisoner subsequently disclosed that her Vietcong comrades typically ate breakfast beginning at 0530 hours in a clearing behind the camp’s cultural school. 

Following his conversation with the prisoner, Tourison captured this perishable 

information in a spot report, which he supported with an oral briefi ng to the 

173rd’s intelligence section (S-2). Tourison then concluded a long day’s work by 

falling asleep in his tent.237

At daybreak Tourison awoke to the sound of outbound mortar and artillery fi re. Drawing on his intelligence, the 173rd had shelled the Vietcong camp 

and subsequently launched a follow-up ground assault. As suspected, U.S. troops 

found that Vietcong forces had returned to the camp with their documents, 

equipment, and radios shortly before being savaged by simultaneous rounds of 

artillery. Th e U.S. forces found extensive blood trails from wounded Vietcong 

fi ghters and captured many items abandoned near the camp. Th ese items were 

later exploited for their intelligence value. Th us, Tourison’s persistent application of his peers’ advice had resulted in a prisoner’s unwittingly disclosing perishable intelligence that led to a signifi cant tactical defeat for her comrades.238

Among the many items captured at the camp were personal history statements about the various Vietcong personnel. Among them was a document 

pertaining to the prisoner Tourison had interrogated. When confronted with 

her personal history statement, the prisoner began to weep. Slowly, she corrected a variety of untruths she had previously communicated to Tourison. 

Contrary to her earlier statements, she had been a Vietcong member for three 

years, and was serving as a cook and medic at the Vietcong provincial headquarters. Tourison never sought to force the prisoner to admit she had lied to 

him. Instead, he allowed her to “correct” her previous statements. Both of them 

now understood that Tourison’s documentary leverage was suffi cient that she 

must cooperate in the hope of securing leniency. Not unexpectedly, the prisoner 

disclosed far more information than her personal history statement contained, 

because she could not be certain that other captured documents would not off er 

additional information about her.239

Developing Interrogation Expertise

Operation BIG RED was only the fi rst of many in which Tourison would 

assist before leaving Vietnam in the summer of 1967. By combining interrogation work at the Saigon MIC with tactical interrogation support and DOCEX, 

Tourison steadily increased his understanding of the Vietcong and interroga237 Talking with Victor Charlie, 72-73.

238 Talking with Victor Charlie, 74-75.

239 Talking with Victor Charlie, 76-77.
110 |

tion. He found value in the urgency that combat support gave to his work. As he 

noted, it was sometimes easy for interrogators in Saigon to forget that less than 

an hour away U.S. military personnel were engaged in fi erce fi refi ghts with Vietcong forces. Comprehensive and timely human intelligence could easily spell 

the diff erence between life and death in the fi eld. Despite self-imposed pressure 

for quick results, Tourison almost always relied upon gentle treatment and rapport. In only one interrogation did he report using a physical stress position to 

coerce tactical information from a defi ant source.240

Tourison’s cumulative interrogation accounts reveal that he was tenacious 

and fl exible. Using pragmatic psychology and his encyclopedic knowledge of the 

Vietcong, he frequently baited sources by dangling infl ammatory statements before 

them. Whether questioning their competence or honor, Tourison frequently managed to elicit unexpected amounts of intelligence. Tourison explained:

Th e fi rst step in breaking your source is getting him to talk. 

Th e one who clams up is just passing time; once they start to 

open up it’s a diff erent matter. You have to talk about anything, 

the more controversial the better, any controversial item is 

bound to get some type of response.241

While operating in the vicinity of Ben Suc the First Division came upon 

an individual who ran away aft er seeing the troops. One of the troops pursued 

and tackled the suspect, who put up such a fi ght that all his clothes were torn off . 

Aft er binding the naked prisoner, the First Division delivered him to Tourison. 

At fi rst, the angry prisoner screamed viciously at Tourison but then subsided 

into total silence aft er noting he was not “allowed to talk.” Th is was an unusual 

development: the suspect was the fi rst in 18 months who had refused to talk 

with Tourison.242

On the basis of the prisoner’s silence, Tourison suspected he was a communist party member. Aft er all, regular fi eld soldiers were not instructed by 

their superiors to remain silent in the face of interrogation, for the simple reason that only offi cers and communist party members were considered knowledgeable enough to warrant silencing.

Noting that the prisoner (P) had a deformed hand of which he was obviously self-conscious, Tourison (TS) asked “What’s the matter with your hand?” 

P: “Nothing.”

TS: “What do you mean ‘nothing’? It looks like a claw! What’s the matter, 

can’t your stupid Vietcong doctors fi x it?” 

240 Talking with Victor Charlie, 229-230

241 Talking with Victor Charlie, 222.

242 Talking with Victor Charlie, 222.
| 111

P: “If it wasn’t for you Americans, I wouldn’t have my hand looking this 

way. You and your artillery. Stop! I don’t want to talk about it.”243

In this fashion, Tourison continued to press his attack against the prisoner’s 

weakness. Eventually the prisoner began a tirade about being shelled twice by 

the Americans even though he was only a “journalist.” Alternating between compassionate off ers of U.S. medical care and antagonistic questions, Tourison soon 

obtained information on the location and defenses of a Vietcong hospital.244

Later, Tourison sought to exploit the prisoner’s claimed identity. He challenged the prisoner to prove his journalistic abilities by writing a story describing how he had been wounded. Again, the prisoner took the bait and gave up 

too much information by placing a masthead at the top of his “newspaper article.” Th e masthead fi nally unraveled the identity of the prisoner: he had revealed 

his offi ce location and his position on its editorial staff .245

Th e Gulf of Tonkin Incident

As Tourison alternated between tactical and strategic interrogations, 

many interesting opportunities came his way. In the summer of 1966, General 

McChristian directed Tourison and a colleague to travel to Da Nang and assist 

the U.S. Navy, which was holding 19 prisoners from the North Vietnamese Navy 

(NVN) captured aft er the U.S. Navy sank their PT boats during an engagement 

in the Gulf of Tonkin. Tourison and Master Sergeant Grady Stewart traveled to 

Da Nang and boarded a Navy support ship where the prisoners were detained. 

Although the Navy had planned to send two additional Marine interrogators, 

their travel was delayed. Operating on their own, Tourison and Stewart began 

by collecting the prisoners’ identifying information and reviewing background 

intelligence on the NVN. Additionally, Tourison and Stewart arranged for the 

prisoners to receive cigarettes and food more like their normal diet.246

Shortly aft er beginning their interrogations, they received notice that 

the highest-ranking prisoner, an NVN division commander named Tran Bao, 

requested to be debriefed by U.S. intelligence. Without further encouragement, 

the commander provided voluminous information about his navy, including 

the hidden locations of its vessels. Th e NVN commander was angry with his 

government for not seeking a negotiated resolution to disagreements with the 

U.S. Furthermore, he was infl uenced by CIA propaganda he had previously 

received, and doubted that North Vietnam could prevail militarily against the 

U.S.247

243 Talking with Victor Charlie, 223.

244 Talking with Victor Charlie, 224.

245 Talking with Victor Charlie, 224-225. 

246 Interview of Tourison.

247 Interview of Tourison.
112 |

Before Tourison and Stewart could arrange to transmit the intelligence 

received, the Navy ordered them to cease interrogations and communications 

until its Marine interrogators arrived 48 hours later. Undeterred, Tourison 

requested permission to continue “chatting” with the prisoners, rather than 

interrogating them. Th e captain of the Navy ship agreed, not recognizing 

that “chatting” is interrogation. By the time the Marine interrogators arrived, 

Tourison and Stewart had identifi ed the cooperative prisoners, which left their 

colleagues with slim pickings and an uphill struggle.

With the Marines now on the scene, the ship’s communications personnel were permitted to transmit the intelligence reports by Tourison and Stewart. 

Th e pair’s fi rst report was over 100 pages long and took an entire day to transmit. On the basis of this information, collected in only 72 hours, the U.S. Navy’s 

7th Fleet launched air strikes that sank most of the craft operated by the NVN. 

Following the fi rst wave of air strikes, the prisoners reviewed aerial reconnaissance photos with Tourison and Stewart. Amazingly, they cheerfully identifi ed 

additional targets and recommended new reconnaissance fl ight paths for fi nding the few NVN craft that remained afl oat.248

Tourison’s and Stewart’s debriefi ng of division commander Tran Bao 

also led them into politically sensitive discussions about the mysterious Gulf of 

Tonkin incident that fi rst led President Johnson to order air strikes against North 

Vietnam in August 1964. Bao held unique insights on the incident because he 

had written the NVN’s Aft er-Action Report. He explained that the U.S. Navy 

claims of being attacked by NVN torpedo boats in international waters on 4 

August were ridiculous. First of all, Bao explained that the NVN attack boats 

lacked suffi cient range to attack in international waters. Second, Bao had been 

responsible for monitoring NVN torpedo stocks at the time of the incident, and 

none was expended at the alleged time of the attack.249

Aft er senior U.S. Navy commanders in Hawaii read the details of the 

incident in Tourison’s and Stewart’s fi rst report, they issued a terse warning 

message: “YOU WILL NOT REPEAT NOT DEBRIEF FURTHER CONCERNING THE GULF OF TONKIN INCIDENT.”250 Of course, Tourison could not 

resist the temptation to learn more about the incident from Bao, although he 

wisely refrained from reporting what he discovered in subsequent intelligence 

reports.251

248 Interview of Tourison.

249 Interview of Tourison.

250 Interview of Tourison.

251 Interview of Tourison.
| 113

Focus and Frustration

Tourison’s single-minded focus on acquisition and expedient transmittal 

of intelligence sometimes landed him in trouble with superiors more mindful 

of military protocol. In one instance, Tourison transmitted time-sensitive intelligence documents under his own signature, rather than that of his supervising offi cer, because the latter was unavailable to sign the documents. When the 

supervisor learned of Tourison’s action, he lambasted him before recalling the 

intelligence and signing it personally.252

Similarly, Tourison became frustrated by his successors’ seeming disregard 

of the lessons he and other Vietnamese linguists had learned through experience. 

As the U.S. intelligence apparatus expanded throughout 1966 as part of the overall 

“Americanization” period of the war, U.S. interrogators were transferred to Vietnam from Europe. Th ough experienced, not a single one spoke Vietnamese or had 

any signifi cant appreciation of Asian culture. Tourison and his ARVN colleagues 

came to feel they were being pushed aside as U.S. intelligence became less concerned with Vietnam’s cultural and linguistic intricacies and began to conduct a 

one-size-fi ts-all intelligence campaign.253 Forced to share a small pool of female 

Vietnamese interpreters, the non-fl uent interrogators were never able to bond suffi ciently with their interpreters to create the shared understanding needed for optimal results. Th us, delays in translation left the interrogators unable to control the 

atmosphere during interrogations.254

Sharing Interrogation Knowledge

In the summer of 1967 Tourison completed his tour as an interrogator and 

returned to the U.S. A respected mentor, Colonel Ajima, whom he visited at Fort 

Holabird in November 1967, suggested that Tourison record all his observations 

about Vietnam and interrogation before forgetting them. Th roughout December 

1967 Tourison frenetically draft ed the manuscript that would later be titled Talking 

with Victor Charlie: An Interrogator’s Story, observing that “[I]f my children and 

grandchildren learn something from it, it will have served its purpose.”255 Yet, for 

the next 22 years the draft manuscript remained unpublished among Tourison’s 

personal papers. Finally, in 1991, Tourison shared his experiences when Ivy Books 

published the manuscript for the benefi t of his successors, who oft en had little recollection of Vietnam or the lessons it off ered for counterinsurgency interrogation.

Asia—A Lifelong Commitment

Tourison’s fascination with Asian culture and language would drive the 

remainder of his career. Before retiring as a chief warrant offi cer, Tourison 

252 Talking with Victor Charlie, 242.

253 Talking with Victor Charlie, 170-173.

254 Interview of Tourison.

255 Talking with Victor Charlie, 170-173.
114 |

served a third Asian tour in Th ailand and Laos from 1970 to 1974. He continued his quest for knowledge by studying Mandarin Chinese at DLI and in 

1975 completed his Bachelor of Arts degree in political science (he is currently 

enrolled in a master’s program). As a civilian, Tourison served as a GS-14 civil 

servant in the Special Offi ce for POW/MIA Aff airs at the Defense Intelligence 

Agency (DIA). Tourison and Ping now live in Maryland, where Tourison works 

in the court system as a Vietnamese interpreter.256

In retirement, Tourison has frequently commented on issues pertaining 

to Vietnam and the U.S. veterans who served there. For instance, he has supported requests for compensation submitted by Vietnamese civilians and U.S. 

veterans exposed to Agent Orange during the war.257 In addition, Tourison has 

advocated practical improvements to relations between Washington and Hanoi. 

Specifi cally, he advocated a constructive (non-punitive) U.S. Government position vis-à-vis Hanoi’s requirement that religious organizations in Vietnam register with the government.258 He has also assisted a Vietnamese publishing 

house obtain the rights to publish Western books for the Vietnamese market. 

Tourison believes that Vietnam’s increasing engagement with the world will lead 

the country to become a responsible global citizen. In short, Tourison holds no 

ill will toward the people of Vietnam and welcomes constructive opportunities for Vietnam veterans and their former enemies to heal from the wounds 

of a long war.259 In Tourison’s case, these unseen wounds include a 90 percent 

offi cial disability due to post-traumatic stress disorder and diabetes, which he 

believes were caused by exposure to Agent Orange.260

Tourison’s Recipe for Success

Th e classical theorist Sun Tzu encouraged soldiers to know their enemies. Th is is the primary objective of the intelligence professional, and Sedgwick Tourison pursued it with fervor. His enthusiasm resulted directly from his 

love for the Vietnamese language and a sincere desire to understand all aspects 

of Vietnamese society. Th e resulting knowledge easily off set Tourison’s lack of 

formal interrogation training and made him a precious commodity, as demonstrated by General McChristian’s praise.

With his encyclopedic knowledge of the Vietcong and their language, 

Tourison was adept at reading contextual clues to gauge sources’ areas and lev256 Talking with Victor Charlie, 260-261, and author’s biography.

257 “Veterans Call for Justice for Agent Orange Victims in Vietnam,” Veterans Today, URL: 

< http:www.veteranstoday.com/printout944.html>, accessed 23 January 2007.

258 Thomas Jandl, “Religious Rights in Vietnam: Dialogue and Engagement Yield Continued Progress,” International Reports.net by The Washington Times, URL: http://www.internationalreports.net/special/vietnam/religion/html, accessed 23 January 2007.

259 Thomas Jandl, “Vietnam MIAs: A Bargain Kept Paves Way for Cooperation,” InternationalReports.net by The Washington Times, URL: http://www.internalreports/net/special/vietnam/

mia.html>, accessed 23 January 2007.

260 Interview of Tourison. 
| 115

els of knowledge. Skillfully using basic psychology, he convinced sources they 

would receive better treatment if they cooperated. In cases where this motivation failed to prompt a dialogue, Tourison used carefully calculated mockery 

and controversy as a catalyst for discussion. Whenever feasible, Tourison also 

used his linguistic abilities to leverage documentary evidence that would bolster 

interrogation eff orts.

Refl ecting upon his interrogation experiences during an interview with 

the researcher, Tourison highlighted one questioning technique that he found 

particularly eff ective for quickly screening large populations that contained 

suspected insurgents from outside the local area. Th e “Must Know—Should 

Know—Could Know” or “Th ree Questions” technique requires each member 

of a screened population to answer three questions tailored to their claimed 

identity. For instance, an individual claiming to be a local rice farmer must 

know how to plant rice, should know the name of the local pharmacy, and could 

know the name of the local insurgent commander. Such a screening approach 

separates “the wheat from the chaff ” by focusing the interrogator’s attention 

upon outsiders who lack the answers they should have known if they were truly 

locals. Tourison believes the technique might help his successors in Iraq and 

Afghanistan, if they are not already using it.261

Stuart A. Herrington: A Case Study

261 Interview of Tourison.

Then-Captain Herrington and a 

South Vietnamese Army lieutenant 

colonel (District Chief) in front of 

a bunker in Duc Hue District, Nau 

Nghia Province, in 1973.

Source: Herrington’s personal collection. 

Used with permission of COL (Ret) 

Herrington granted to the editor,

12 May 08.
116 |

A Reluctant Warrior

“I didn’t want to go to Vietnam,” admits Stuart Herrington.262 As a student of 

political science and international relations during his undergraduate and graduate education in Florida, Herrington understood the profound diffi culties encountered by French forces in Vietnam during the 1950s. Consequently, he doubted 

America’s ability to prosecute a war there successfully and counted himself as a 

“dove” even as America’s involvement began in the early 1960s.263

In 1967 Herrington completed his university education and was commissioned 

through the Reserve Offi cer Training Corps (ROTC) as a military intelligence offi cer 

in the Army. While attending the Army’s Infantry School and Intelligence School, 

Herrington oft en heard battle-experienced instructors respectfully describe the Vietcong, or “Ol’ Charlie,” as brave and clever. Fully expecting an assignment to Vietnam 

aft er training ended, Herrington was surprised and relieved to receive orders for Germany. He greatly enjoyed his two years in Berlin and, aft er completing his ROTC service commitment, separated from the Army to avoid an assignment to Vietnam.264

Aft er seven mind-numbing months as a Procter & Gamble265 detergent sales 

manager charged with executing his company’s “Make W.A.R. (We Are Relentless), 

not Love” campaign, Herrington once again saw the allure of military service and 

requested a recall to active duty. Th is time, he vowed to focus diligently upon his 

career—which he knew would lead him immediately to Vietnam. To prepare, he 

attended the Tactical Intelligence Offi cer and Military Assistance Training Advisor 

(MATA) courses before undertaking eleven weeks of Vietnamese language training. Knowing that his duties as an advisor to the South Vietnamese Army would 

require in-depth knowledge of the language, Herrington demonstrated his careerist orientation by sacrifi cing three weeks of leave for additional voluntary language 

training. Fueling his eff orts was a growing interest in Vietnam, despite his continued pessimism as to whether the U.S. would achieve its objectives.266

Unexpected Setbacks

As a Phoenix Program267 advisor in Hau Nghia province, Herrington 

was responsible for advising the South Vietnamese military and its police 

262 Stuart A. Herrington, Silence Was A Weapon: The Vietnam War in The Villages (Novato, 

CA: Presidio Press, 1982), xv. Cited hereafter as Silence Was a Weapon.

263 Silence Was a Weapon, xv-xvi.

264 Silence Was a Weapon, xvi.

265 NOTE: Bryan Vossekuil, a Senior Member of the ISB Educing Information Study, has 

noted that some Israeli interrogators are specifically recruited from sales and marketing backgrounds. Herrington noted to the researcher that he did not find his Proctor & Gamble experience helpful because sales pitches were generally “canned” (scripted).

266 Silence Was a Weapon, xvi-xviii.

267 NOTE: The Phoenix Program was a joint U.S. and South Vietnamese effort to identify 

and neutralize members of the rural Vietcong shadow government by fusing the intelligence 

and operational capabilities of South Vietnam’s local governments, police, and militias. During 

the “Vietnamization” period of the war, U.S. military officers were assigned as advisors to members of the South Vietnamese government.
| 117

counterparts as they coordinated initiatives to “neutralize” (kill, capture, or 

convince to surrender) Vietcong insurgents in Duc Hue district. Proximity to 

Vietcong staging areas in Cambodia made his area of responsibility one of the 

most infi ltrated districts in South Vietnam. For instance, Vietcong leaders cited 

one of Duc Hue’s four villages, Tan My, as a “model revolutionary village.” Th is 

proclamation greatly irritated Herrington’s hard-charging boss, Colonel Jack 

Weissinger, who made it abundantly clear to Herrington that he expected quick 

and decisive improvements in Tan My.268

Herrington’s hopes for the Phoenix Program quickly vanished. Standing 

in the way of Vietcong neutralizations were the South Vietnamese government 

offi cials Herrington sought to support. However, he would not understand 

this puzzling lack of dedication among his allies until he cast aside Phoenix 

responsibilities and began unilateral debriefi ngs of Vietcong defectors. He 

reasoned that if the South Vietnamese government would not aggressively 

tackle the Vietcong, he would. Aft er all, Colonel Weissinger expected results 

one way or another. Although Herrington was not trained as an interrogator, 

his general intelligence training had prepared him to spot, assess, and handle 

defectors. Th ese mistrusted individuals would open his eyes to the realities of 

Vietnam.269

Comprehending the Real Vietnam

Nguyen Van Dung (“Hai Chua”) had been the Vietcong village secretary 

of Hiep Hoa village before defecting to the South Vietnamese government via 

the Chieu Hoi (“Open Arms”) program.270 As a “rallier” to the government, 

Dung was required to admit his identity and Vietcong position in exchange for 

amnesty and protection from his former colleagues. To prepare him for life as a 

productive citizen of the republic, the government gave him months of political 

reindoctrination. However, while the hoi chanh (defectors) were potential gold 

mines of intelligence, the government was generally lukewarm about debriefi ng 

these “traitors.” In Dung’s case, South Vietnamese offi cials briefl y questioned 

him but ceased their eff orts when he politely declined knowledge of recent Vietcong operations in his former village.271 Herrington hoped that Dung would 

268 Silence Was a Weapon, 2-7.

269 Silence Was a Weapon, 9-18.

270 NOTE: The South Vietnamese government created Chieu Hoi “Open Arms” Centers to 

encourage Vietcong members to defect, or “rally” to the government. “Ralliers” (hoi chanh) 

received protection and amnesty in exchange for providing basic information about their role in 

the Vietcong insurgency. 

271 NOTE: Despite defecting to the government, many hoi chanh were unwilling to jeopardize the lives of their former Vietcong comrades by providing detailed intelligence about them. 

Other hoi chanh did not want to reveal the extent to which they had damaged the government 

while serving the Vietcong. Yet others were unwilling to inform on the Vietcong because they 

knew the government was infiltrated by Vietcong informants who might target the most enthusiastic hoi chanh collaborators for assassination.
118 |

respond to a more assertive debriefi ng eff ort by an American and made plans 

to conduct it himself.272

Seeking to make Dung comfortable during two months of intensive 

debriefi ngs, Herrington secured a hospitable facility and modest funds to reimburse Dung for his time and to provide refreshments. Additionally, Herrington 

wore civilian clothes and worked without the assistance of a translator whenever possible; many sources were uncomfortable speaking through an interpreter because, unlike the American interrogator, the interpreter was perceived 

as a potential Vietcong informant.273 To ensure that he would command Dung’s 

respect at their fi rst meeting, Herrington conducted research on the Vietcong 

movement in the rallier’s former village of Hiep Hoa—research that would also 

lessen the likelihood that Dung could mislead him. In pursuit of this goal, Herrington arranged to debrief simultaneously one of Dung’s former associates 

who had defected during the same time frame. However, Herrington did not 

immediately inform Dung that his information would be corroborated.274

Herrington’s intensive preparation and safeguards proved benefi cial, 

because Dung attempted to lie early in their relationship.275 Aft er Herrington 

showed that he could not easily be misled, Dung became an invaluable source 

who opened Herrington’s eyes to the harsh, but oft en hidden, realities of the 

insurgency in Vietnam. American failures to understand these realities had oft en 

hamstrung eff orts to build eff ective collaboration with South Vietnamese allies.

1. Local government offi cials oft en chose not to combat the Vietcong 

presence aggressively for two reasons. First, they feared that acknowledging 

a strong Vietcong presence in their jurisdiction would refl ect poorly upon 

their leadership performance. Second, offi cials tacitly accommodated the 

Vietcong so that they would not be targeted for assassination. Typically, 

the Vietcong only murdered government offi cials whom they perceived as 

threats to their revolutionary goals. Finally, offi cials wished to preserve an 

uneasy peace in their villages to protect constituents from bloodshed.276

2. Past occupations and interventions by China, Japan, and France, and 

now by the U.S., caused Vietnamese villagers to perceive themselves as 

perpetually under siege by foreigners. Th ey would not report Vietcong 

actions to the government because doing so could subject a fellow 

Vietnamese to persecution by the government’s foreign allies.277

272 Silence Was a Weapon, 19-20. 

273 Herrington interview.

274 Silence Was a Weapon, 21.

275 Silence Was a Weapon, 23.

276 Silence Was a Weapon, 24.

277 Silence Was a Weapon, 25-26
| 119

3. Th e “Vietnamese way” demanded that the Vietnamese conceal their 

contempt for foreigners, such as their U.S. advisors. Th erefore, South 

Vietnamese offi cials fl ashed the “Asian smile” and nodded agreement with 

their advisors’ suggestions, only to disregard them in many cases.278 For 

example, this had been the case when Herrington proposed expansion of 

the Phoenix Program to his South Vietnamese counterparts. 

4. Most villagers’ loyalties shift ed with the political winds. Until it became 

clear whether the government or the communists would win the war, 

most villagers would diligently attempt to appease both sides. Th us, a 

villager might attend a nighttime Vietcong rally and then participate in 

government elections the next day. Not surprisingly, both the communists 

and the government held unrealistic views of their popular support.279

5. Th e corrupt and heavy-handed South Vietnamese government was 

Hanoi’s best ally. Villagers’ frustration with the national government led 

most to tolerate, and a few to support, the Vietcong. In particular, the 

government’s land reform and mandatory relocation policies angered the 

populace, which had watched its leaders repeatedly raid public funds for 

personal gain.280

6. Th e Vietcong strategy allowed a minority of communist elites to control 

most of South Vietnam’s rural areas by creating the sense that Vietcong 

were omnipresent. In a fi gurative sense they were—because villagers 

could never be certain that their associates were not Vietcong informants. 

Moreover, fearing for their safety, government offi cials would frequently 

allow themselves to be gradually frozen out of areas that the Vietcong 

could then more easily infl uence through propaganda and fear. As the 

Vietcong solidifi ed their control of an area their operatives could tax the 

harvests of local farmers to support operations elsewhere.281

Armed with a new understanding of these realities, Herrington used 

another hoi chanh, Nguyen Van Phich, to create and manage a large network 

of informants in Tan My, the “model revolutionary village.” As a native of Tan 

My, Phich was related to many of its inhabitants, and had worked with many 

of its Vietcong operatives while previously serving as the executive offi cer for 

the Vietcong local force company. Wounded twice, Phich had rallied to the 

South Vietnamese government aft er his forces were savaged in the Tet Off ensive and he became convinced that the communists could not prevail. Beginning in the spring of 1971, Phich traveled almost daily into Tan My to obtain 

278 Silence Was a Weapon, 25-26.

279 Silence Was a Weapon, 28.

280 Silence Was a Weapon, 30-31.

281 Silence was a Weapon, 32.
120 |

information in exchange for cigarettes, food, and payments from Herrington. 

Armed with the resulting intelligence, an aggressive province chief, Colonel 

Th anh, launched military operations against the Vietcong and succeeded in 

breaking their hold on Tan My. Sadly, as oft en happened to those who aggressively pursued the Vietcong, both Th anh and Phich were assassinated shortly 

thereaft er.282

A Personal War

Th e deaths of Th anh and Phich weighed heavily upon Herrington, for 

whom the war had now become very personal. No longer was Herrington simply trying to please his demanding superior offi cer and return home alive; he 

was now fi ercely committed to preserving the freedom of his South Vietnamese 

friends: 

[M]any of us (Americans) found ourselves undergoing an irresistible tendency to identify with our counterparts. We even 

came to regard their districts and villages as our own, and to 

resent the Vietcong interlopers just as much as if they were 

penetrating the parks in our own hometowns and threatening 

our own wives and children, rather than the rice farmers of a 

land thousands of miles from home. (Explanation added to 

the original in parentheses.)283

In keeping with his newfound commitment, Herrington voluntarily 

extended his tour in Vietnam to complete the task of rolling back Vietcong 

infl uence in Duc Hue.

282 Silence Was a Weapon, 62-75 and 136-138. 

283 Silence Was a Weapon, 73.

Captain Herrington 

with one of his South 

Vietnamese Army 

colleagues in Duc Hue 

District, 1972.

Source: Herrington’s 

personal collection. Used 

with permission granted to 

the editor, 12 May 08.
| 121

Benchmarking Guru DeForest

Herrington’s commitment and success were recognized by his new supervisor, Lieutenant Colonel Gerald Bartlett, who requested that Herrington move 

to Bao Trai and become his advisor at the provincial level. In this new position, 

Herrington had opportunities to benchmark the accomplishments of another 

U.S. intelligence offi cer in his vicinity, Orrin DeForest (see aforementioned case 

study).284 As the CIA’s lead interrogator in Bien Hoa, DeForest enjoyed tremendous success in debriefi ng Vietcong defectors and prisoners because he earned 

their trust and aff ection. DeForest shared his strategy and methods with Herrington, who immediately applied them to a project of his own.285

Befriending the Enemy: Do Van Lanh

As the sole survivor of a decimated North Vietnamese Army unit, Do Van 

Lanh attracted Herrington’s admiration by his bravery and spirit. Despite witnessing the annihilation of his unit, running out of ammunition, and sustaining a head wound, Lanh had surrendered only reluctantly to South Vietnamese 

troops. He was clearly committed to the powerful Nguyen Hue off ensive then 

threatening South Vietnam’s survival.286

Following his capture, Lanh underwent interrogation by a South Vietnamese colonel commanding the ARVN’s 25th Division. In front of an audience including Herrington, Lanh made a fool of his haughty interrogator by 

nonchalantly defl ecting incoming questions and then defi antly asking embarrassing questions of the interrogator. Impressed by the plucky NVA prisoner, 

Herrington requested custody of him for an unorthodox experiment in interrogation and agent recruitment.287

Upon receiving custody of the prisoner one hour later, Herrington 

extended his hand and introduced himself in Vietnamese. Th e scrawny 5’4” 

prisoner was astonished that Herrington spoke his language and planned to take 

him to his own house for several days. Further, to the amazement of the South 

Vietnamese captain who released Lanh, Herrington did not want the uncharacteristically reserved Lanh to be shackled. Instead, Herrington motioned for the 

prisoner to walk with him.288

284 NOTE: Before publishing Silence Was a Weapon in 1982, Herrington submitted a manuscript to the CIA for pre-publication review. The CIA informed Herrington that references to 

DeForest’s operations in Bien Hoa remained classified at the SECRET level. To accommodate 

this restriction, Herrington attributed DeForest’s successes to Army Captain Tim Miller, a Phoenix advisor in Bien Hoa who was detailed to DeForest’s interrogation center. 

285 Silence Was a Weapon, 109-124. 

286 Silence Was a Weapon, 164.

287 Silence Was a Weapon, 153-155.

288 Silence Was a Weapon, 156.
122 |

Herrington and Lanh fi rst stopped at the home of a Filipino doctor who 

treated an undressed shrapnel wound below Lanh’s eye. Aft erward, Herrington 

brought Lanh to his personal quarters, where Herrington provided him with 

a fresh meal, tea, a shower, and new civilian clothes. Herrington then showed 

Lanh to his room, directly across from Herrington’s own. As he entered his new 

quarters, Lanh became wide-eyed at the sight of a television. Although the TV 

received only the American Armed Forces station and the Saigon government 

station, Lanh was enraptured. Needing to return to his workplace, Herrington 

informed Lanh that he regretted having to lock the bedroom door, but that 

Lanh could summon one of the house guards if he needed to visit the bathroom. 

Before he left , Herrington instructed the guard staff to treat Lanh as a member 

of the family.289

When he returned to his offi ce Herrington retrieved Lanh’s South Vietnamese interrogation report. Lanh had claimed he was a nineteen-year-old 

native of Ha Tinh village in southern North Vietnam who had been draft ed 

into North Vietnam’s 271st Regiment one year earlier. He stated that he had 

attended basic training before his unit began its 100-day infi ltration movement 

into South Vietnam and had contracted malaria while traversing the Ho Chi 

Minh Trail southward, which sidelined him in a Cambodian dispensary until 

shortly before his capture. In fact, Lanh asserted he had not yet experienced 

combat, other than the brief battle leading to his capture. 290

During the following week at the villa, Lanh avoided speaking to Herrington because he remained afraid of him. Instead, he struck up conversations 

with the Vietnamese guards and the maid. Finally, Lanh realized that Herrington would not harm him and began to ask him about his pay, his M-16, and 

his personal life. Herrington freely answered Lanh’s questions but did not ask 

any himself.291

At the end of the fi rst week, Herrington took Lanh to the central market 

in Bao Trai so he could buy toiletries and even exchanged Lanh’s North Vietnamese currency for the local currency. Lanh was astonished by the immense 

variety of goods at the market; he had never seen anything similar in North 

Vietnam. Aft er shopping for an hour, Lanh pledged not to attempt escape and 

the two ate together at a public restaurant.292

In the face of Herrington’s hospitality, Lanh began to relax, smile, and 

even joke. Nonetheless, he was understandably confused by his unanticipated 

circumstances. Aft er cornering Herrington at their residence, Lanh asked, 

“How long will I be living here with you, Dai Uy (Captain)? .... I don’t under289 Silence Was a Weapon, 155-157.

290 Silence Was a Weapon, 157-158.

291 Silence Was a Weapon, 159.

292 Silence Was a Weapon, 159-160. 
| 123

stand what is going on.”293 Sitting Lanh down, Herrington took advantage of 

Lanh’s concern to advance a nuanced recruitment pitch.294

Herrington said that he had been impressed by Lanh’s resilience under 

interrogation and that his bold performance proved he had the intelligence 

to perceive the realities of South Vietnam—if only someone took the time to 

expose him to them. Noting the traumatic nature of Lanh’s capture, Herrington 

explained that he had not questioned his prisoner because he wanted to facilitate his recovery. He reassured Lanh that he would not be questioned about 

his comrades because he would obviously not betray his friends. However, he 

would need Lanh’s help if he were to save him from the POW camps. Herrington elaborated on the kind of help he desired by explaining that he sought 

to restore peace to Vietnam by fi rst obtaining an understanding of the views 

held by North Vietnamese soldiers like Lanh.295

Lanh expressed enthusiasm for Herrington’s proposal and thanked his 

host for not seeking information about his former comrades in the 271st Regiment. He thanked his host for his kind reception and noted that he shared the 

goal of peace between North and South Vietnam. He agreed to answer all of 

Herrington’s questions honestly, and subsequently poured out his life story.296

While growing up in the North, Lanh had been indoctrinated continually 

in the virtues of communism. Teachers had convinced him and his classmates 

that Southerners lived “under the brutal heel of the Americans and their puppets.” Video footage of abused Southerners and passionate speeches by Ho Chi 

Minh stirred up patriotic outrage in North Vietnam, and attracted many youngsters to the “solemn mission” of “liberating” their South Vietnamese brothers. 

At eighteen, Lanh volunteered for the military and began the journey that led 

him southward into Herrington’s hands.297

Herrington made no eff ort to correct Lanh’s stated beliefs. Instead, he 

sought to challenge Lanh’s world view with a strong dose of reality. Th e television had already begun to shake Lanh’s beliefs, and a trip to Saigon promised to compound his confusion. Days later, as the two drove toward the city in 

Herrington’s jeep, Herrington suddenly pulled off the highway near a large clay 

quarry. Stopping, Herrington grabbed his M-16 rifl e and climbed out. Lanh 

remained in the jeep with a puzzled look on his face. Herrington motioned for 

Lanh to join him but Lanh looked uncertain. Finally, he complied.298

Herrington chambered a round and then shoved the rifl e into Lanh’s 

hands, telling him, “Go ahead and fi re it into the quarry. Go ahead. It’s on auto293 Silence Was a Weapon, 160. 

294 Silence Was a Weapon, 160-161.

295 Silence Was a Weapon, 161.

296 Silence Was a Weapon, 161-163. 

297 Silence Was a Weapon, 161-163.

298 Silence Was a Weapon, 164.
124 |

matic. Fire it. We’ve got to get to Saigon.”299 Pivoting toward the quarry, Lanh 

fi red 20 rounds in two quick bursts, laughed, and returned the weapon while 

commenting “It’s light and doesn’t kick like my AK-47.”300

As they continued their drive to Saigon, Lanh began laughing again and then 

confi ded: “Did you know, Dai Uy, that when you stopped the jeep back there, I 

thought for a second that you were going to shoot me? I was scared to death when I 

got out of the jeep.” In response, Herrington began to laugh as well, “You were scared! 

What about me? I’m the one who gave a POW a loaded M-16. I was so scared that 

my hands were sweating. You could have easily killed me on the spot.”301

Detour aside, the two arrived in Saigon to experience the joys of a cosmopolitan city. Flower-lined streets, music, bustling traffi c, beautiful girls, markets 

overfl owing with goods, and a delectable lunch overwhelmed Lanh’s senses. 

He had never experienced anything like Saigon in the police-state North. Herrington’s account highlights the trip to Saigon as a pivotal moment in his relationship with Lanh: they now trusted one another.302

Shortly aft er returning from Saigon, Lanh and Herrington talked throughout 

nearly the entire night. Kind treatment, a television, and the sights of Saigon had 

completely altered Lanh’s life-long conception of the South and Americans. Lanh 

expressed frustration that he had been propagandized in the North. Th e South was 

nothing like what he had imagined and its people did not want to be “liberated.”303

To capitalize upon Lanh’s dismay, Herrington showed Lanh 8” x 10” photos of 65 North Vietnamese corpses. Lanh recognized many of the men as his 

former comrades, who had been butchered in battle due to the gross incompetence of their commander. Next, Herrington showed Lanh the captured aft eraction report of the incompetent commander, who had reported a “great victory” 

in which NVA troops had “completely overrun” a government outpost and killed 

“twenty-nine puppet troops.” Lanh was sickened by the obvious lies of the NVA 

commander, who had concealed the self-infl icted slaughter from superiors.304

Herrington explained that Lanh’s dead comrades “died for a lie” that had 

nearly killed Lanh as well. He urged Lanh to help him reverse the North’s ongoing Nguyen Hue off ensive, of which Lanh was a small part, presenting him with 

stark alternatives. On the one hand, he could cooperate and retain his freedom; on the other, he could be released into normal POW channels. If he were 

included in a prisoner exchange, he might even have the pleasure of “carrying 

an AK-47 down the Ho Chi Minh Trail for the second time.” Herrington left 

Lanh to ponder his choices during the coming day.305

299 Silence Was a Weapon, 164.

300 Silence Was a Weapon, 164. 

301 Silence Was a Weapon, 164.

302 Silence Was a Weapon, 165-166.

303 Silence Was a Weapon, 167-170.

304 Silence Was a Weapon, 167-170. 

305 Silence Was a Weapon, 167-170.
| 125

Th e Real Do Van Lanh

In the evening, Lanh announced his choice as he sat on a sofa with Herrington. He wanted to help Herrington reverse the Nguyen Hue off ensive and 

bring peace to Vietnam. Moreover, he revealed the real Do Van Lanh. In vivid 

contrast to his previous statements, Lanh disclosed he was really a 22-year-old 

sergeant, with three years of military experience, which included training in 

elite sapper-reconnaissance operations. He admitted that he had not sat out 

the war in a dispensary aft er contracting malaria.306

Despite misgivings, Lanh helped Herrington to direct air strikes against 

the locations where his unit had infi ltrated into South Vietnam. Soon thereaft er, 

aircraft destroyed a command post, bunker complex, and abandoned rubber 

plantation inhabited by the NVA. In addition, the strikes savaged a platoon of 

enemy sappers. On another occasion, Lanh agreed to don his old NVA uniform 

and become a stool pigeon for Herrington, who needed to obtain order of battle 

intelligence from a captured NVA prisoner who refused to disclose his unit. 

Lanh quickly acquired the confi dence of the NVA prisoner and aft er two hours 

left the prisoner’s cell knowing the identity of his unit as well as its objectives 

306 Silence Was a Weapon, 171-172.

Captain Herrington with a North Vietnamese major in Hanoi in 

April 1975 only 19 days before the fall of Saigon, visiting as part 

of his duties with the U.S. Delegation, Four Party Joint Military 

Team (a POW/MIA negotiations unit).

Source: Herrington’s personal collection. Used with permission granted 

to the editor, 12 May 08.
126 |

and remaining capabilities. Lanh took no pleasure in such work and Herrington 

was careful not to remind him of its grisly results.307

While Lanh’s disclosure and elicitation of tactical information were clearly 

signifi cant, he also gave Herrington and U.S. superiors a new understanding of 

the enemy’s psychology. So novel was the idea of a co-opted NVA soldier that 

Lanh was invited to share his thoughts with senior U.S. leaders in Vietnam. On 

one occasion, the former NVA sergeant even briefed President Nixon’s personal 

envoy to Vietnam, Juan Trippe.308

To reward Lanh for his services, Herrington took the unusual step of lobbying the South Vietnamese for Lanh’s freedom. However, as the war ground on 

endlessly, the South Vietnamese government draft ed Lanh into its army. As an 

M-16-carrying rifl eman, Lanh was injured during an ambush by his former comrades. Although he survived the attack, it is unlikely that he survived the war. As 

NVA troops swept through South Vietnam in 1975, they captured records of the 

defector program in which Lanh had taken part. Th e NVA forced defectors to 

return to their original units and receive punishment from their former peers.309

Against his wishes, Herrington was ordered to return to the U.S. in the 

summer of 1972. While the Army had granted Herrington’s requests for tour 

extensions on two occasions, it now required him to receive additional intelligence training stateside so that he could advance in his career.310 Still, Herrington did not put Vietnam aside for long. In 1973 he returned to monitor 

enforcement of the Paris Peace Accords that ended direct U.S. involvement in 

South Vietnam. However, the North would have nothing of peace until it completed its relentless drive to “liberate” the South. In April 1975, the communists fi nally overcame the many setbacks dealt to them by the United States and 

occupied Saigon. Th ere, Herrington and his former mentor, Orrin DeForest, 

were busy evacuating their South Vietnamese acquaintances and sources before 

fl eeing from the U.S. Embassy by helicopter. 

Sharing Painful Lessons

In 1982 Herrington published Silence Was a Weapon to educate Americans about why their nation lost the Vietnam War. Central to Herrington’s 

thesis was analysis of the Vietcong insurgency at the village level. Herrington’s 

keen understanding of the insurgency stemmed from his development of close 

interpersonal relationships with defectors such as Nguyen Van Dung and Do 

Van Lanh. Th ese relationships yielded signifi cant intelligence as well. By virtue of fl uency in Vietnamese, burning curiosity, and zealous dedication, Herrington came to understand the dilemmas of the Vietnamese people as well as 

any American reasonably could. 

307 Silence Was a Weapon, 179-181. 

308 Silence Was a Weapon, 187-195.

309 Silence Was a Weapon, 229. 

310 Silence Was a Weapon, 205-206, 209, and 227.
| 127

Into the Limelight

Captain Herrington enjoyed a successful military career and quickly 

became Colonel Herrington as he rose to a senior position in the Army’s Military Intelligence branch. By directing military interrogation eff orts during 

Operation JUST CAUSE (Panama) and DESERT STORM (Iraq), Herrington 

had ample opportunity to apply the interrogation lessons he learned in Vietnam. In both instances, he instituted a large-scale “guest house” approach that 

obtained cooperation from 80–90% of his sources.311

Aft er retiring from the Army in 1998, Herrington leveraged his counterespionage skills to protect the frequently counterfeited technologies of Callaway 

Golf. In his spare time, Herrington now occasionally writes op-ed pieces regarding the Iraq War and interrogation. Th ese pieces, along with two additional 

books (Peace with Honor? An American Reports on Vietnam, 1973–1975; and 

311 Interview of Herrington.

Herrington’s official retirement photograph as a U.S. Army

Colonel.

Source: Herrington’s personal collection. Used with permission 

granted to the editor, 12 May 08.
128 |

Traitors Among Us: Inside the Spy Catcher’s World) have solidifi ed Herrington’s 

position as an expert on interrogation, counterinsurgency warfare, and counterintelligence. Th e national media routinely consult Herrington about these 

topics.312

In November 2006 Herrington lent his expertise to the group Human 

Rights First when he and a few other experienced U.S. interrogators visited 

producers of the television show “24.” Th e program distressed Herrington and 

Human Rights First because it frequently portrayed protagonist Jack Bauer violating U.S. laws by torturing terror suspects. Herrington provided the producers 

with a list of 17 legal interrogation techniques in an eff ort to help “24” producers more accurately depict the interrogation techniques typically used by 

professionals.313

On two occasions, Herrington has accepted U.S. Army requests to assess 

its interrogation operations. Aft er viewing interrogations at Abu Ghraib and 

Guantanamo Bay, he became a vocal critic of existing U.S. interrogation strategies. He remains frustrated by his nation’s failure to develop a dedicated strategic interrogator corps and eschew the coercive interrogation methods that he 

believes run directly counter to U.S. strategic objectives in the GWOT. 314

In the absence of a strategic interrogator corps, Herrington took a practical step to infl uence U.S. interrogation practices. Herrington recently agreed to 

assist the Army in training its newly formed interrogation unit, the 201st Military Intelligence Battalion. Created in response to the Abu Ghraib controversy, 

the 201st MI Battalion consists predominantly of junior enlisted personnel. In 

the summer of 2006, Herrington helped to prepare these new interrogators for 

deployment to Iraq by providing them with three full days of training at Fort 

Hood, TX, where he lectured on his Vietnam experiences, as well as on the lessons off ered by Hanns Scharff .315

312 Interview of Herrington.

313 Jane Mayer, “Whatever it Takes: The Politics of the Man behind ‘24’,” The New Yorker, 19 

February 2007. URL: <http:/www.newyorker.com/reporting/2007/02/19/070219fa_fact_

mayer?printable=true>, accessed 16 March 2007.

314 Jane Mayer, “Whatever it Takes: The Politics of the Man behind ‘24’,” The New Yorker, 19 

February 2007. URL: <http:/www.newyorker.com/reporting/2007/02/19/070219fa_fact_

mayer?printable=true>, accessed 16 March 2007.

315 NOTE: During his interview with the researcher, Herrington noted that he became 

aware of Scharff’s utility as a teacher/mentor after completing his own tour in Vietnam.
| 129

Orrin DeForest: A Case Study

“So this is how it happens...this is how the United States bugs out,”316

thought Orrin DeForest as he surveyed the panicked evacuation of his nation’s 

embassy in Saigon. On 29 April 1975, DeForest’s Vietnam years came to a disillusioning end despite his brilliant execution of intelligence operations during the preceding seven years. As North Vietnamese troops occupied the city, 

DeForest and other U.S. personnel escaped by helicopter but, despite his earnest 

eff orts, most of DeForest’s loyal Vietnamese informants and friends were left 

behind to be executed or condemned to brutal “reeducation” camps by the victorious communists.317

Beginning in 1968, DeForest served as a supervisory interrogator and 

spy handler for the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) in Vietnam’s Military 

Region III. With his groundbreaking work during these diffi cult years, DeForest provided a template for the successful penetration and neutralization of an 

insurgency. His methodologies came to be widely emulated by his American 

316 Orrin DeForest and David Chanoff, Slow Burn: The Rise and Bitter Fall of American Intelligence in Vietnam (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1990), 277. Cited hereafter as DeForest and 

Chanoff. 

317 DeForest and Chanoff, 273-277. 

Orrin DeForest and wife Lan around 1990.

Source: David Chanoff, PhD, co-author with Orrin DeForest of Slow Burn: The Rise 

and Bitter Fall of American Intelligence in Vietnam (New York: Simon and Schuster, 

1990). Used with written permission of the co-author, 30 May 2008.
130 |

and South Vietnamese peers. As noted earlier, one of those admiring adherents 

was Stuart Herrington, who credits DeForest with teaching him to interrogate 

eff ectively.318

Life Experience

When Orrin DeForest began his CIA assignment in Vietnam as a 45-yearold, he brought a great deal of useful life experience to bear. He had begun his 

military career as a tail-gunner in a B-29 Superfortress assigned to bomb Nazi 

targets in Europe. Aft er returning to civilian life in a California aircraft factory, 

the Korean War motivated DeForest to reenlist and become a Special Agent for 

the Air Force Offi ce of Special Investigations (AFOSI). In this role, he developed 

skills essential to conducting interrogations, investigations, and counterintelligence operations.319

While stationed with AFOSI in Japan, DeForest conducted investigations jointly with the Japanese National Police (JNP), whose counterintelligence mission resembled that of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) in 

the U.S. DeForest credited the JNP with teaching him to conduct counterintelligence investigations properly and admired the way in which they pursued 

“Total Information”320 in their eff orts to undermine Soviet espionage activities. 

By making extensive use of databanks and wiring diagrams, the JNP detected 

relationships and trends that otherwise would have escaped their attention. 

DeForest incorporated such techniques as cornerstones of his intelligence work 

in Vietnam; today these tools are central to U.S. eff orts to identify and track terror networks.321

DeForest’s assignment in Japan ignited a lifelong interest in the Japanese 

language and in Asian culture. He studied Japanese at the University of Maryland and in a year-long course at the Foreign Language Institute, becoming fl uent in the language. Soon thereaft er, DeForest obtained his Bachelor of Arts 

degree in Far Eastern History from Sophia University in Japan. While pursuing 

the degree he also indulged his lifelong interest in the philosophers Aristotle 

and Plato.322

Following his tenure with AFOSI, DeForest transferred to the Army’s 

Criminal Investigation Division (CID) as a warrant offi cer. CID assigned him 

to Vietnam from 1966 to 1967. As an investigator in Vung Tau, and then an 

investigative supervisor in Qui Nhon, DeForest came to know the country that 

would become his home for nine years. However, DeForest never became fl uent in Vietnamese as he was in Japanese; at most, he would learn to speak about 

318 Interview of Herrington.

319 DeForest and Chanoff, 23.

320 DeForest and Chanoff, 75. 

321 DeForest and Chanoff, 75. 

322 Jean DeForest and Julie Booth-DeForest, the daughter and former spouse (respectively) of 

interrogator Orrin DeForest, Petaluma, CA, joint telephonic interview by the researcher, 8 Jul 07.
| 131

100 native words. DeForest’s tenure with CID marked the completion of his 

20-year military career and prepared him for additional service in Vietnam as a 

contractor to the CIA.323

During his fi rst tour in South Vietnam, DeForest was dismayed by the 

National Police’s lack of professionalism. In what proved a precursor to his 

later experiences with the South Vietnamese government, DeForest found the 

National Police obstinate in their refusal to employ the modern investigative 

techniques taught by their American advisors. While this could be attributed to 

pride, DeForest was amazed to fi nd that most of the National Police spent their 

supposed duty hours looking aft er their private business interests rather than 

those of the Vietnamese public.324

Breaking a Broken Mold

DeForest came to value his own military, investigative, and academic 

experience when he joined the CIA in 1968. Expecting to be wowed by the 

“First Team”325 of intelligence, DeForest was instead dismayed by the ten weeks 

of unrealistic and irrelevant training that CIA headquarters provided to the 

contractors it had hired to work in a war zone. Hoping to be more impressed 

by the status of CIA operations on the ground in Vietnam, DeForest instead 

became more concerned as he received briefi ngs at the CIA Station in Saigon. 

Amazingly, the CIA did not have a single asset within the Vietcong. Instead 

of obtaining intelligence by penetrating the Vietcong with spies, the CIA had 

instituted four largely ineff ectual programs that made for impressive window 

dressing during briefi ngs to policymakers: Provincial Reconnaissance Units, 

the Census Grievance Program, the Rural Development Program, and Special 

Branch Police Operations and Training.326

In short order DeForest learned he was to support the last of these programs as the chief interrogator for Military Region Th ree. In this newly created 

position, he was charged with standing up the Provincial Interrogation Center 

(PIC), located 15 minutes north of Saigon in Bien Hoa. As the chief interrogator, he was expected to oversee interrogations of Vietcong prisoners housed at 

the PIC, train South Vietnamese interrogators, and spot prisoners who could be 

recruited as informants and used to infi ltrate their former Vietcong units.327

To help him in his work, DeForest was assigned a contingent of four 

“experts” from the Vietnamese Special Branch. Unfortunately, these “experts” 

were teenagers. Exasperated, DeForest managed to have them confi ned to the 

PIC while he assessed CIA collection eff orts throughout Region Th ree. On one 

visit to the PIC, DeForest walked in on his “experts” as they interrogated an 

323 Interview of Jean and Julie DeForest. 

324 DeForest and Chanoff, 23.

325 DeForest and Chanoff, 23.

326 DeForest and Chanoff, 35.

327 DeForest and Chanoff, 29.
132 |

approximately 15-year-old female prisoner. To aid questioning, the experts had 

forced a broomstick into her vagina.328 To his disgust, DeForest discovered that 

torture was a common interrogation technique among his South Vietnamese 

counterparts in the PICs because their failure to collect and catalogue intelligence for use in interrogations had resulted in a lack of leverage over prisoners. 

For this reason, DeForest eschewed future joint interrogations with the South 

Vietnamese.329

During two weeks of home leave in San Diego, California, DeForest 

thought extensively about how to develop a successful interrogation and agent 

recruitment eff ort in Bien Hoa. He found the answer by refl ecting upon the 

“Total Information” approach espoused by his Japanese mentors. Returning to 

Vietnam in the spring of 1969, DeForest pitched an ambitious plan to the CIA 

Chief of Base, Loren Snowcroft , to create and populate a massive intelligence 

database on the Vietcong. He proposed interrogation of Vietcong defectors (hoi 

chanh).330

Many thousands of hoi chanh were detained in Chieu Hoi or “Open Arms” 

centers aft er “rallying” to the South Vietnamese government with potentially 

valuable intelligence information. Previously, the U.S. military had exploited 

this intelligence opportunity but the CIA had not.331 Without informing CIA 

superiors in Saigon, Snowcroft and DeForest reallocated resources from the 

existing CIA programs to establish a small interrogation facility at the Bien Hoa 

Chieu Hoi Center.332

Building the Interrogation and Recruitment Center

DeForest attacked the considerable task of developing an interrogation 

center with vigor. Using psychological testing derived from the work of Dr. John 

Gittinger at CIA, DeForest selected Vietnamese personnel for training as interrogators and taught the trainees how to establish relational rapport with interrogatees by treating them with sincerity and kindness. Because interrogatees 

typically expected at best a lukewarm reception from their former South Vietnamese enemies, the kindly attitude displayed by DeForest’s interrogators was 

a surprising and welcome relief. As a result, even reluctant defectors would frequently provide intelligence on former comrades still with the Vietcong.333

328 DeForest and Chanoff, 56.

329 DeForest and Chanoff, 56.

330 DeForest and Chanoff, 79.

331 Interview of Sedgwick Tourison. NOTE: In Slow Burn DeForest contends that U.S. interrogators lacked sufficient intelligence to generate leverage against Vietcong suspects near Bien 

Hoa. Tourison contends that voluminous quantities of detailed Bien Hoa intelligence were available to the CIA at MACV J-2 in Saigon. 

332 DeForest and Chanoff, 83.

333 DeForest and Chanoff, 86-88.
| 133

DeForest’s focus upon cultivating the trust and friendship of interrogatees proved key to obtaining intelligence. Generally, this approach entailed 

warm meals and recreation for interrogatees. Such empathy and kindness came 

naturally to DeForest: “[T]his approach was something I felt especially strongly 

about, partly because I really was sympathetic.... I wasn’t at all sure that if I 

had been in these villagers’ places I wouldn’t have been VC myself.”334 DeForest 

clearly understood that the corruption of the South Vietnamese government 

had driven many decent people to join the Vietcong in the hope of securing a 

more promising future. 

To simplify the process of selecting interrogatees who would likely provide useful information, DeForest developed a biographical screening form that 

all of the hoi chanh fi lled out prior to interrogation. Oft en, DeForest would also 

direct the hoi chanh to complete psychological profi les, which would provide 

interrogators with clues on how to establish rapport with them.335

As DeForest’s interrogators began making inroads with the hoi chanh, 

the benefi ts of cataloguing the resulting intelligence became obvious. DeForest taught his administrative staff how to build a massive card index database 

that allowed interrogators to verify and contextualize information provided by 

interrogatees. Over time, the database evolved into an encyclopedia of knowledge on the Vietcong’s structure and personnel. Such knowledge markedly bolstered interrogators’ eff ectiveness because they could focus collections, detect 

deception, and speak with greater authority.336

Due to notable interrogation successes, DeForest’s operation expanded 

from a handful of personnel in the summer of 1969 to over 30 staff members. To 

accommodate the growth, DeForest eventually moved the operation to a new 

facility known as the Joint Interrogation Center (JIC). Here, four teams of three 

interrogators and two translators conducted compartmentalized interrogations 

and asset management under the tutelage of CIA personnel. Ten administrative assistants then added the intelligence to the now massive database. At any 

one time, the facility housed 50-60 sources and off ered medical care as well as 

entertainment via American television and movies. So advanced was the new 

facility that DeForest was able to monitor covertly the interrogations conducted 

by his subordinates, which allowed him to detect the rare occasions when his 

interrogators fabricated reports.337

In typically unorthodox fashion, DeForest used his large personal residence as an annex to the JIC. He would frequently invite potential sources and 

their interrogators to relaxed gatherings at his home, where his live-in Vietnamese mistress, Lan, would prepare drinks and fresh meals. However, as will become 

apparent, Lan actually served a more important function in the intelligence334 DeForest and Chanoff, 87.

335 DeForest and Chanoff, 110-111.

336 DeForest and Chanoff, 85.

337 DeForest and Chanoff, 151.
134 |

gathering eff ort by helping to assuage the reservations of prospective female 

sources who felt uncomfortable speaking to male interrogators. To accomplish 

this, Lan would host the sources as long-term guests in the DeForest home, 

assess their personalities, and provide guidance to their interrogators.338

DeForest’s interrogation operation was both comprehensive and eff ective, as the following section illustrates.

Recruiting “Grandpa”

In 1973 South Vietnamese police conducting routine searches of persons 

at a checkpoint discovered a young woman who was transporting one million 

piasters (South Vietnamese currency) hidden under her clothing.339 Aft er beating her, the South Vietnamese gave the prisoner to DeForest for interrogation. 

DeForest immediately recognized her importance—she belonged to a secretive 

courier network known as B-22, which over the past eight years was estimated 

to have transported roughly $150 million from Cambodia to Vietcong forces 

throughout South Vietnam.340 DeForest had known about the network for the 

preceding 18 months, but despite painstaking investigative eff orts he had not 

identifi ed an opportunity to penetrate it.341

To further his objective, DeForest drove the young woman to his residence, where he instructed Lan to take tender care of her. For several days Lan 

cared for the demure prisoner while engaging her in innocuous conversation. 

Th ough casual, this conversation yielded valuable information such as the prisoner’s name (Th i Nam) and village. 

As Th i Nam’s comfort level increased, DeForest introduced her to his 

most accomplished Vietnamese interrogator, Bingo. In the hope of developing 

rapport, Bingo discussed only neutral topics with her. Aft er a few days, Th i Nam 

revealed that she had previously been frightened of Americans and could not 

believe they had invited her into their home instead of putting her in jail. She 

asked Bingo to inform her family that she was safe despite her sudden disappearance. As he did in many other cases, DeForest passed a reassuring message 

to the girl’s family.342

Pleased with Th i Nam’s increased receptivity, Bingo made a carefully 

calculated pitch to her. Bingo told Th i Nam that he would like her to confi rm 

the identities of the other couriers in the B-22 network. In reality, Th i Nam 

would not be confi rming the identities; she would be the fi rst to provide them 

338 DeForest and Chanoff, 214.

339 DeForest and Chanoff, 214. 

340 DeForest and Chanoff, 221.

341 DeForest and Chanoff, 213.

342 DeForest and Chanoff, 215.
| 135

to DeForest’s interrogators. Bingo assured Th i Nam that American intelligence 

had no interest in apprehending her friends in the lowest rungs of the B-22 

network, but wanted to identify its senior members. Bingo’s pledge was sincere, but it was off ered in tandem with an unspoken threat. If Th i Nam did not 

cooperate she would likely be returned to the South Vietnamese police, who 

would certainly treat her in a less collegial fashion. Furthermore, if she did not 

assist the Americans in working their way into the upper echelons of B-22 they 

were likely to arrest the low-level members they claimed to have already identifi ed, and such an arrest would snare Th i Nam’s friends. Faced with this stark 

choice, Th i Nam identifi ed twelve other couriers and the chief of the network: 

a seventy-fi ve-year-old man whom DeForest codenamed “Grandpa.” So central 

was Grandpa to the funding of Vietcong operations that he reported directly to 

a member of the Vietcong’s Central Offi ce for South Vietnam (COSVN). 343

As luck would have it, Grandpa’s actual grandchild, “Liem,” had defected 

from the Vietcong to the South Vietnamese government 18 months earlier and 

was one of the guest sources housed at the JIC. Liem had provided some intelligence, but had withheld the fact that his grandfather was a senior Vietcong 

operative. DeForest now confronted Liem and compelled him to devise a suitable method for contacting Grandpa. Liem did not want to betray his grandfather, but knew that he would have to do so in order to preserve the comfortable 

lifestyle that DeForest had provided for Liem’s immediate family in Bien Hoa. 

Liem agreed to send his wife, Ly, to visit Grandpa in Cut Trau with a ruse 

designed to bring Grandpa to a public area in Saigon. Ly was to tell Grandpa 

that his grandson Liem was ill in a Saigon hospital. Th ere, Grandpa would be 

quietly arrested by the South Vietnamese Special Police and interrogated by 

DeForest’s team at a safe house.344

Grandpa fell for the ruse and was soon facing DeForest’s star interrogator, 

Bingo. Th e interrogator could scarcely believe that the man sitting in front of 

him was the mastermind of the infamous B-22 fi nance network; Grandpa was 

“an absolutely typical old peasant—pajamas, straw hat, rubber sandals, teeth 

stained black from chewing betel. With his wrinkled skin and ruined mouth, 

he seemed even older than his seventy-fi ve years.”345 Even though Grandpa had 

never attended a single day of school, he was personally entrusted with fi nancing much of the Vietcong war eff ort and managed B-22 with great skill and diligence. For eight years he had kept his operations from being penetrated; he had 

evaded South Vietnamese checkpoints by selecting elderly ladies to transport 

currency. Th e South Vietnamese did not search these older women because of 

their low profi le, and because Grandpa ensured they possessed identifi cation 

cards issued by the South Vietnamese government.346

343 DeForest and Chanoff, 216.

344 DeForest and Chanoff, 220.

345 DeForest and Chanoff, 220.

346 DeForest and Chanoff, 220.
Because Grandpa was a hardline ideologue, Bingo knew that he would 

have to work a small miracle in order to recruit the older man in only two or 

three days – before COSVN would realize he had been captured. If this happened, DeForest would have no hope of penetrating COSVN and ascertaining 

its future war plans. To demonstrate that U.S. intelligence already knew all about 

B-22, Bingo confronted Grandpa with the extensive information provided by 

Th i Nam. Even as he did so, Bingo maintained respectful deference to Grandpa, 

referring to him as bac (uncle). To complement his friendly tone, Bingo also 

ensured that Grandpa was well fed. However, he accompanied the kind treatment with a frank threat to turn Grandpa over to the abusive South Vietnamese 

police and withhold future access to grandson Liem and his family. He made 

the thought of never seeing Liem again even more disturbing to Grandpa by 

not revealing that Liem was not actually ill. Grandpa quickly agreed to become 

a spy. As a reward, Bingo informed Grandpa that his grandson was not ill aft er 

all and allowed him to see Liem and his family.347

Aft er Grandpa had spent several minutes with Liem, DeForest joined the 

recruitment session. Giving Grandpa an aff ectionate pat on the shoulder, DeForest expressed professional admiration for the elderly man’s skilled management 

of the B-22 network. Greatly surprising Grandpa, DeForest off ered not to arrest 

members of the network. While the ever-helpful Lan cared for Grandpa’s greatgrandchildren, DeForest outlined his proposal. Grandpa would continue to 

operate B-22 as if nothing were amiss, but would be required to provide DeForest with advance notice of COSVN’s off ensives in the Saigon area. Meanwhile, 

DeForest would protect Grandpa as well as Liem’s family. Grandpa agreed to 

the arrangement and until war’s end in 1975 kept U.S. intelligence apprised of 

Vietcong funding, operations, and political developments.348

Described by DeForest as an “adrenaline junkie,” Grandpa delighted in 

the intrigue, challenges, and danger of espionage.349 Even as it became obvious in 1975 that South Vietnam was about to fall to invading North Vietnamese forces, Grandpa declined DeForest’s off ers to evacuate him from Vietnam. 

Mindful of his age, he pointed out that the Vietcong were unaware of his collaboration with DeForest and would treat him as a hero aft er the war. Sadly, this 

was not to be. South Vietnamese forces fl ed from advancing North Vietnamese 

forces without destroying their records of Grandpa’s collaboration with DeForest. Th e elderly man was almost certainly killed for his collaboration with the 

CIA.350

Following his unhappy return to California, DeForest married his 

beloved Lan and campaigned publicly to ease the suff ering of Vietnamese refugees. Aft er making a public address he was approached by a member of the 

347 DeForest and Chanoff, 222.

348 DeForest and Chanoff, 224-225.

349 DeForest and Chanoff, 225.

350 DeForest and Chanoff, 261.
| 137

audience, David Chanoff . As an accomplished author and biographer, Chanoff 

immediately recognized that DeForest had a powerful story to tell. “You’ve got 

a book in you,” Chanoff told DeForest.351 Later, the two began collaboration on 

Slow Burn: Th e Rise and Bitter Fall of American Intelligence in Vietnam.352

Slow Burn details DeForest’s methodology and accomplishments in an 

entertaining fashion, although the book is arguably marred by DeForest’s frequent denunciation of personal rivals. Nonetheless, it off ers keen insights to 

a complex man whom his daughter described as “hilarious, personable, likeable, focused and super patriotic.”353 In fact, DeForest’s former wife amusedly 

described him as a “master manipulator” who nearly always found an indirect 

path to his goals. 

As a 4-year-old, the “master manipulator” amazed his parents by exhibiting salesmanship when dealing with his 2-year-old brother, Bud. As the boys 

played together one day at their home in rural California, Orrin coveted the 

tricycle Bud was riding. Orrin retrieved a stale piece of bread from their house 

and off ered to trade it to Bud for use of the tricycle. Aft er Bud declined, Orrin 

returned to the house, where he tore the piece of bread into smaller pieces that 

completely fi lled his hands. He then re-approached Bud with his new off ering. 

Th is time, Bud gave up the tricycle for the same piece of bread. Yet, DeForest’s 

skill meant that his acquaintances never felt manipulated.354

Asked to describe DeForest’s professional demeanor, Herrington aff ectionately characterized his former mentor as “ingenious, crusty, irascible, blunt, 

and uncompromising.” He observed that, when DeForest was given a mission 

he believed in, he “would move mountains to accomplish it.” However, DeForest’s considerable accomplishments and confi dence led him to resist supervisors’ oversight, which he saw as petty meddling.355 By contrast, just as DeForest 

coddled sources, he treated his family gently and rarely argued with loved ones. 

Julie DeForest notes that her father had absolutely no stomach for disciplining 

children and was incapable of saying “no.”

His Vietnam experience had ravaged the compassionate side of Orrin 

DeForest. As his book makes clear, DeForest left the rooft op of the U.S. Embassy 

in Saigon with feelings of extreme guilt, loss, and anger. DeForest felt personally 

responsible for the sad fate of his sources and railed against his nation’s abandonment of the South Vietnamese who had helped the U.S. His unhappiness 

with U.S. political leadership and the CIA led him to resign and enter into a 

disillusioned retirement. Aft er the USSR’s invasion of Afghanistan in 1979, the 

CIA contacted DeForest and asked him to organize interrogation operations 

in that country; he declined. Th ough writing Slow Burn temporarily buoyed 

351 Interview of Julie DeForest.

352 Joint interview of Jean and Julie DeForest.

353 Joint interview of Jean and Julie DeForest.

354 Interview of Jean DeForest.

355 Herrington interview. 
138 |

DeForest’s spirits, his depression later returned and possibly exacerbated his 

declining health throughout the 1990s. DeForest passed away of cancer in 2000. 

Lan continues to reside in California.356

Distilling DeForest’s Recipe for Success

DeForest’s methodology for interrogating and recruiting Vietcong operatives stands in stark contrast to the highly coercive interrogation techniques that 

the U.S. has acknowledged employing in the GWOT. In this sense, DeForest’s 

success reminds us that aggressively collecting intelligence on an insurgency is 

not necessarily incompatible with simultaneously winning adversaries’ hearts 

and minds. While jihadists almost certainly present a more diffi cult recruitment profi le than the secular Vietcong, DeForest’s experience suggests that it is 

possible to convince some committed insurgents to betray their cause by identifying and exploiting relevant psychological weaknesses. For example, DeForest undermined Th i Nam’s and Grandpa’s expectations of abusive treatment by 

U.S. intelligence and capitalized upon their surprise by off ering to protect their 

closest associates in exchange for information on higher-ranking persons of less 

personal concern to them. 

Th e case study of Orrin DeForest illustrates the value of an interrogator’s 

initiative, life experience, information management skills, and empathy. DeForest could easily have resigned himself to maintaining existing CIA collection 

programs. Instead, he undertook the diffi cult task of building a sophisticated 

interrogation center to produce potential spies. Th is display of initiative would 

likely have proven futile if not for DeForest’s extensive life experiences with 

the military, investigations, counterintelligence, and Asian culture. Specifi cally, 

DeForest coupled his appreciation of Japanese counterintelligence methods 

(databases and wiring diagrams) with his appreciation for the power of psychology to overcome adversaries’ resistance to interrogation and recruitment. His 

unusually strong empathy for individual Vietcong operatives made this skillful 

employment of psychology possible. By approaching each prospective informant as a human being, rather than as an enemy, DeForest greatly increased his 

eff ectiveness in gathering intelligence. 

Our Journey Th us Far

Early on we identifi ed the pressing need to improve U.S. interrogation 

practices and obtain the human intelligence essential for victory in the GWOT, 

and noted the considerable parallels between today’s interrogation challenges 

and those faced during the Vietnam insurgency. A targeted literature review 

examined the modus operandi of notable wartime interrogators and revealed 

a range of personal attributes and strategies that enabled interrogators to overcome barriers to success. Mindful of these attributes and strategies, we adopted 

a case study methodology and created a framework for examining the interroga356 Joint interview of Jean and Julie DeForest. 
| 139

tion experiences of Sedgwick Tourison, Stuart Herrington, and Orrin DeForest. 

Th e case studies sought to capture the wisdom of these three U.S. interrogators, 

who achieved and reported on considerable successes in Vietnam. 

Th e next section discusses the fi ndings of the case studies, all of which 

were constructed to answer the original research question: 

• How did U.S. interrogators in Vietnam overcome barriers to eff ective 

counterinsurgency interrogation?

A. What attributes characterized successful counterinsurgency 

interrogators? 

B. Which interrogation strategies were most eff ective in producing 

actionable intelligence on Vietcong insurgents? 

Synthesizing the Case Studies 

Interrogator Attributes 

As their case studies illustrate, Tourison, Herrington, and DeForest were 

all highly motivated interrogators who demonstrated their dedication to U.S. 

goals in Vietnam when each took the highly unusual step of voluntarily extending his tour. While Herrington acknowledged reservations about U.S. involvement in Vietnam, and initially pursued the Vietcong aggressively to advance 

his new career, he came to see the South Vietnamese plight as his own. Indeed, 

each of the interrogators was reluctant to leave Vietnam for home, even aft er 

long tours that approached seven years in DeForest’s case. In contrast to R.W.G. 

Stephens, none felt a personal hatred for “Ol’ Charlie,” although they despised 

the Vietcong’s political objectives and savage tactics. Instead, all three obviously 

took pride in the improvement of their tradecraft and their service to the cause 

of preserving South Vietnam’s freedom from communist rule. 

To meet interrogation challenges, the featured interrogators were able to 

call upon widely divergent life experiences and education. Whereas the middleaged DeForest had served in the Army Air Corps during World War II, as a 

criminal investigator in Vietnam, and as a counterintelligence agent in Japan, 

his younger counterparts had far less previous experience. However, all three 

shared a keen appreciation for Asian cultures and languages that dominated 

much of their scholastic pursuits.

Captain Herrington was armed with a graduate-level education, general 

military intelligence training, military service in Germany, and seven months of 

professional sales experience prior to his Vietnam tour. Combined with fl uency in 

Vietnamese and mentoring by former Vietcong members and U.S. interrogators, 

these experiences were suffi cient to make him a highly eff ective interrogator.

As the youngest of the trio, Tourison demonstrated remarkable maturity and 

achievements for an interrogator only in his early twenties. Aft er he had traveled 
140 |

much of the world during his fi rst enlistment, Tourison’s academic and cultural 

development blossomed with exposure to Asian language training. With the rare 

combination of fl uency in Vietnamese and in-house expertise on Asian culture 

thanks to his Chinese wife, Tourison developed an extensive knowledge of the Vietcong and of interrogation by understudying South Vietnamese and U.S. peers.

Tourison’s and Herrington’s rapid adaptation to interrogation suggests 

that their interpersonal, cultural, and language aptitudes were more valuable 

than formal interrogation training. Granted, neither was required to manage 

an entire interrogation center such as the one supervised by DeForest. Nonetheless, their success suggests the U.S. could potentially overcome shortages of 

cultural and linguistic aptitude by recruiting its brightest expatriates as interrogators in times of unforeseen confl ict. Such individuals could likely be trained 

as interrogators more quickly than average interrogators could fully adapt to 

foreign languages and cultures.

Tourison and Herrington were exceptionally quick to master Vietnamese. 

However, both had a passion for foreign languages and probably possessed considerable linguistic aptitude; for instance, Herrington had previously attained 

fl uency in German while preparing for his Berlin assignment. Herrington’s 

experience in Germany drove him to seek the immersion opportunities that 

enabled him to learn Vietnamese.

While Tourison and Herrington highlighted language abilities as pivotal to their accomplishments, DeForest succeeded with a vocabulary of only 

100 Vietnamese words. Tourison and Herrington essentially functioned as solo 

operators within a larger intelligence apparatus, whereas DeForest illustrated 

his organizational genius by effi ciently employing South Vietnamese interrogators to compensate for his limited fl uency. Even so, DeForest had a solid understanding of the host culture due to his academic background, extensive time in 

country, and Lan, his long-term assistant and future wife. 

Perhaps the salient attribute of DeForest and Herrington in this regard 

was their ability to cultivate and sustain productive interpersonal relationships 

with sources. Both were blessed with the personal disposition and prior training 

necessary to convince sources they cared about their needs. Th en again, in most 

cases, DeForest and Herrington really did care for their sources. 

Interrogator Strategies 

Each of the featured interrogators developed tradecraft with obvious similarities to those used by the highly experienced interrogators described in the 

literature review. All took maximum advantage of available sources of leverage, 

such as databases and DOCEX. Of course, the availability of these resources 

varied just as the interrogators’ operational environments varied. Tourison 

frequently provided operational support to combatants, where he exploited 

contextual clues to undermine sources’ contrived identities. Once Tourison 
| 141

determined his source was presenting a false identity, he would use compassion, 

ridicule, or controversy as appropriate to stimulate dialogue. 

Herrington and DeForest were blessed with greater amounts of time, 

resources, and environmental control than Tourison. With these precious commodities, both ultimately implemented variations on what the researcher refers 

to as “guest house” interrogation. Th is approach placed sources in a comfortable 

long-term environment designed to shatter their preconceived notions about 

Americans and South Vietnamese in hopes of recruiting them as long-term 

informants. Herrington attributes his use of the methodology to mentoring he 

received from DeForest.

Th e books written by the featured interrogators reveal that each was 

unusually inquisitive and introspective. Th e interrogators’ desire to understand 

individuals’ motivations and needs in a cultural context was a decisive advantage. Each felt that his experiences in Vietnam yielded a unique perspective on 

the Vietcong insurgency and on interrogation. Just as each learned his trade 

by understudying respected mentors, all three saw a need to pass along their 

hard-earned knowledge to future U.S. interrogators. By writing their respective books, these interrogators showed their commitment to the improvement 

of U.S. wartime interrogation. Th is commitment continues to shine through as 

the two surviving interrogators advocate for improvements to GWOT interrogation strategies. 

Putting the Pieces Together: Th e Ideal Counterinsurgency 

Interrogator

Th e attributes and strategies of our three counterinsurgency interrogators can be overlaid to create a hypothetical interrogator of extraordinary depth 

and value.

He or she would be intelligent (all), personable (all), tenacious (all), worldly 

(all), mature (all), fl uent (Tourison/Herrington), humane (all), experienced 

(DeForest), managerial (DeForest), and encyclopedically knowledgeable of the 

enemy (all, Tourison especially). Importantly, he/she would cultivate friendships 

(DeForest/Herrington) anchored in sincere admiration for the sources’ culture 

(all). Finally, aft er a long and productive career, the interrogator would educate 

successors in hopes of improving their interrogation practices (all).

While our hypothetical interrogator would bear some resemblance to 

each of the interrogators discussed in the literature review, it appears we have 

reincarnated Hanns Scharff . Although Scharff did not manage a large-scale 

interrogation center, he otherwise embodied all of the other traits identifi ed in 

the preceding paragraph. It is little wonder, then, that many successors revere 

him as the modern archetype of a successful interrogator.357

357 Herrington interview.
142 |

To fi nd all of the identifi ed traits in a single interrogator would be exceedingly rare. Fortunately, the case studies illustrate that interrogators can still 

achieve success in many cases by using the many relevant traits they possess to 

compensate for those they lack. For instance, DeForest overcame a lack of fl uency by relying upon an abundance of the other traits identifi ed. 

Adopting a Holistic Perspective

Th e narratives of Tourison, Herrington, and DeForest signifi cantly 

improved the researcher’s understanding of interrogation. In particular, the 

researcher now recognizes interrogation should not be isolated from its overall impact on U.S. strategic objectives. Th e researcher attributes this newfound 

understanding primarily to lessons learned from the “Guest House” approaches 

of Herrington and DeForest. Th ey chose this approach for its reported tendency to ease interrogation, yet it arguably yielded far greater benefi ts outside 

the interrogation room. Th e “Guest House” strategy is intriguing because it 

seamlessly blended the disciplines of interrogation, espionage, and ideological reorientation. Indeed, DeForest’s and Herrington’s accomplishments greatly 

exceeded the results normally attainable by interrogation alone. Not only did 

they obtain valuable intelligence during interrogation, but they oft en recruited 

sources to work against former comrades. As an added benefi t, some of the 

recruited sources underwent ideological reorientation that erased their desire 

to wage war against the U.S. following release. 

Th e beauty of the “Guest House” strategy is that it approaches warfare in 

a holistic, systems-oriented manner. In short, it off ers answers to three fundamental questions that demand constant attention during war: 

1. Why have U.S. adversaries chosen to fi ght?

2. How can these adversaries be persuaded not to fi ght?

3. If not persuaded, how may they be neutralized via kinetic means?

Traditionally, many interrogators have focused their eff orts on answering the third question. While this question is certainly important, concentrating on this issue oft en diverts attention from the two elementary questions 

preceding it. Th e answers to those questions might help interrogators to discourage enemy combatants from entering the battlefi eld in the fi rst place. Consequently, the third question would lose signifi cance thanks to a reduced need 

for kinetic attacks with all their undesirable costs, controversies, and collateral 

eff ects. 

A source who is dissuaded from resistance, or better yet recruited to subvert his former comrades, dramatically reduces the enemy’s ability to fend off 

entropy and deny a U.S. victory. Resisting entropy is particularly important to 

insurgent and terrorist groups because they generally lack the ability to draft combatants as would an organized state military. Instead, terrorists and insurgents 

must continually energize and attract new combatants, fi nanciers, suppliers, and 
| 143

supporters by demonstrating battlespace success as well as propagating an ideological message.358

Like a corporation that must answer to profi t-oriented shareholders, 

interrogators respond to their government’s demands for timely and accurate 

intelligence. However, just as a corporation must limit externalities (e.g., pollution, child labor, safety issues) that anger consumers, U.S. government interrogators must ensure that “production” of intelligence via interrogation does 

not result in externalities that undermine the government’s strategic objective—

winning the war and winning popular support for its objectives. While interrogators oft en adopt an interrogation approach they believe will yield maximum 

intelligence from a source, their choice can easily produce undesirable externalities, or unintended consequences, shared by all citizens in the court of world 

opinion. 

In this sense, the eff ectiveness of an interrogation cannot be assessed simply by reviewing the intelligence obtained. Consequently, we must revisit the 

defi nition of interrogator eff ectiveness that the researcher adopted early: “We 

shall consider an interrogator to be eff ective when a source wittingly or unwittingly provides information that an impartial observer would view as detrimental to the welfare of the source’s originating organization or cause. Naturally, an 

interrogator can exhibit varying levels of eff ectiveness on a continuum ranging 

from limited to total.” 

Th e researcher now believes the above defi nition is insuffi cient. It should 

be supplemented by this stipulation: Information obtained by an interrogator 

must be valued in view of all externalities generated by the interrogator’s methods.

Such a defi nition encourages interrogators, or their political masters, to devise 

strategies that complement overall U.S. strategic objectives. Th e U.S. must assess 

the consequences of interrogation methods that validate or increase a source’s 

desire to wage war against the U.S., or risk outraging U.S. adversaries and aiding 

their recruitment or mobilization of supporters. Moreover, if U.S. interrogation 

methods disgust Americans they may decrease political support for the war. 

Merle Pribbenow, whose essay detailed the interrogation of Nguyen Tai, captures the feelings of many compatriots. “[W]e, as Americans, must not let our 

methods betray our goals.... America is as much an ideal as a place.” 359While 

specifi c discussions of interrogation morality are outside the scope of this study, 

practical consequences, such as erosion of U.S. soft power,360 are an important 

consideration. 

358 Troy S. Thomas and William D. Casebeer, Violent Systems: Defeating Terrorists, Insurgents, and Other Non-State Adversaries, Occasional Paper 52, March 2004, U.S. Air Force Institute for National Security Studies, U.S. Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs, CO.

359 Pribbenow, The Man in the Snow White Cell, 9.

360 Joseph S. Nye, Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics (New York: Public 

Affairs, 2004).
144 |

Th e foregoing discussion illustrates the potential drawbacks of assessing 

interrogation eff ectiveness by considering only those events that occur inside 

“the box” (interrogation room).361 Our featured interrogators designed all of 

their “outside the box” interactions with sources to advance their interrogation 

objectives “in the box.” Now, GWOT interrogators must ensure their actions 

“inside the box” complement U.S. wartime objectives “outside the box.” As Stephen Dorril notes, “We have almost reached the point where there are no secrets 

any more, only delayed disclosures.”362 Indeed, whistleblowers, investigative 

reporters, and bloggers have increased transparency of the workings of corporations and governments alike. As a consequence, governments must remain 

ever mindful of their interrogators’ impact upon the state’s diplomacy. Harsh 

U.S. interrogation methods potentially have the undesirable eff ect of motivating 

combatants to resist interrogation, or increasing the number of enemy combatants whom the U.S. must face on the battlefi eld, and in the interrogation room. 

Looking to the Future: From Interrogation to Educing 

Information

In December 2006 the Offi ce of the Director of National Intelligence, 

through its affi liated Intelligence Science Board (ISB), explored the current 

state of scientifi c knowledge regarding interrogation and related forms of 

human intelligence gathering, publishing its fi ndings in a report titled Educing Information: Interrogation: Science and Art, Foundations for the Future. Th e 

ISB discovered that the U.S. has not conducted rigorous research on interrogation strategies since the 1960s. While laws and agency policies infl uence U.S. 

interrogation practices, no defi nitive standard exists for validating their eff ectiveness. In eff ect, individual interrogators have been left with little more than 

historical precedents, anecdotes, and personal experiences to guide them in the 

formulation of interrogation strategies.363

As the literature review demonstrated, interrogators must overcome 

many signifi cant barriers to their success. While the guest house strategy of 

Herrington and DeForest arguably eased the challenges of interrogation, it also 

required the architects to transition seamlessly to the complementary roles of 

spy handler and marketer. Th is development is consistent with the ISB’s call 

to study all opportunities for educing information rather than to rely on interrogation alone. As Dr. Robert Fein, the leader of the ISB study, notes, the word 

“interrogation” can artifi cially restrict the ability to imagine promising opportunities to obtain human intelligence by immediately calling forth images of 

361 Professor Richard Walton, oral presentation of Nguyen Tai case study to ISB Educing 

Information working group at NDIC, 16 December 2006.

362 Stephen Dorril, “The Modern-Day Spy,” The Observer, 16 May 1999. 

363 Fein, in Educing Information, xiii.
| 145

stylized confrontation,364 as depicted in “NYPD Blue,” “24,” and their Hollywood ilk. By contrast, educing information entails a broader range of human 

intelligence interactions that include debriefi ng, interviewing, interrogation, 

and elicitation. Clearly, when intelligence professionals such as DeForest or 

Herrington “turned” sources into spies, they employed a skill set that exceeded 

interrogation alone. 

Given recent advances in the social sciences and their possible relevance 

to educing information, the ISB study recommends that the U.S. undertake 

social science research expeditiously to assess and inform U.S. interrogation 

practices.365 In the short term, however, U.S. intelligence and law enforcement 

interrogators confront immense pressure to extract large volumes of actionable 

intelligence from foreign insurgents captured or detained during the GWOT. 

Because the U.S. government has not conducted recent academic research to 

guide its interrogators,366 today’s counterinsurgency interrogators may benefi t 

from examining the strategies employed by their predecessors during the Vietnam War, such as those discussed in this study. 

Successfully educing information in the 21st century may depend on 

stimulating and integrating social science research to transform the fi eld,367 just 

as U.S. scientists and engineers have exponentially improved technical intelligence collections. Such a radical improvement demands the dedicated attention 

of fi ne minds, whether in academe, intelligence, law enforcement, or marketing 

fi rms. By applying their eff orts eclectically to a fi eld oft en eschewed out of distaste for its practitioners’ past transgressions, talented professionals will demonstrate foresight and courage. In tackling such an important challenge, they will 

capitalize upon the lessons off ered by Tourison, Herrington, and DeForest, who 

together showed successors the synergistic power of tenacity, maturity, environmental comprehension, and human understanding, and thus off er a promising 

preview of the potential for educing information in the future. 

364 Dr. Robert Fein, Chair of the Intelligence Science Board Study on Educing Information, 

unclassified presentation to NDIC, May 2007.

365 Fein, in Educing Information, xiii.

366 Fein, in Educing Information, xiii.

367 Robert A. Destro, “Foreword,” in Educing Information, vii.

| 147

The Accidental Interrogator:

A Case Study and Review of

U.S. Army Special Forces

Interrogations

Th e term “tactical interrogation” has disappeared from the lexicon, 

replaced by the terms “tactical questioning,” “intelligence interrogation,” and 

“debriefi ng.” In the wake of the Abu Ghraib scandal and the resulting fl urry of 

investigations, the Department of Defense has craft ed new doctrine on interrogation operations—Army Field Manual (FM) 2-22.3. Areas of the new doctrine 

have received unprecedented public attention, especially prisoner status and 

prisoner treatment. Lost in the process, however, are other equally important 

doctrinal issues, such as the newly imposed strict delineation of who can and 

cannot conduct interrogations. 

 Especially in prosecuting the Global War on Terrorism, Special Forces 

soldiers are on the cutting edge of battle, oft en the fi rst ones to engage the 

enemy. Because of this, they are also the fi rst ones to experience the eff ects of 

ill-conceived doctrine. Decisions made in Washington restrict the defi nition of 

interrogation by narrowly defi ning who is qualifi ed to conduct interrogations, 

leaving unconventional warfi ghters in a precarious position. Th e question that 

this study poses is: How can U.S. Army Special Forces accomplish assigned missions while still adhering to DoD doctrine on intelligence interrogation and 

tactical questioning?

To address this question, the author fi rst explains the evolution of the 

debate among senior U.S. government offi cials, including the President, and 

then the development and distribution of a new manual governing interrogation. Th e abuses at Abu Ghraib prison and the myriad investigations it spawned 

form the capstone of this debate. Next the author provides a case study that 

encapsulates three unique, real-world interrogation scenarios drawn from 

his experience in Iraq before the Abu Ghraib scandal broke. Th ese fi rsthand 

accounts detail all elements surrounding each interrogation event and serve to 

(1) introduce the need for Special Forces to conduct tactical interrogation, and 

(2) identify techniques that will be useful to future interrogations, whether strategic, operational, or tactical. Th e accounts are cumulative and interactive to 

allow readers to draw their own inferences from the author’s decisions. Th ey 
148 |

provide insights about how current interrogation policy and doctrine have 

hamstrung tactical intelligence gathering. 

Th e author concludes that the “letter” of the current doctrine on interrogation contradicts its “intent.” In particular, the doctrine’s apparent reliance 

on “tactical questioning” to cover all situations where no trained interrogator is 

available is inadequate. It creates a moral dilemma. Th e need for the information remains, but the means of obtaining it is thwarted by the doctrine. Th e key 

to solving this problem is to integrate interrogation into Special Forces operations and not treat it as something removed from daily operational activities. 

Instead of restricting access to this tool, interrogation should be incorporated 

into Special Forces training along with appropriate checks and balances. If Special Forces are given “special authorization” to conduct interrogations, it must 

be done cautiously given past catastrophic failures in interrogation practices 

that have led to prisoner abuse and greater public scrutiny. Additionally, to 

grant authorization and not the requisite training would be a recipe for failure. 

Th e need for Special Forces soldiers to conduct interrogations exists; doctrine 

and training must converge to meet that need.

Tomorrow’s Dilemma Today

Red-faced, and with veins bulging, the guerrilla leader (G chief) erupts 

in a tirade so close to the Special Forces detachment commander that saliva 

from the G chief is making the detachment commander wince. In one of his 

oversized paws the G chief holds the wrist of his cousin, a fi ghter in his elite 

commando unit, who was shot in the face and died minutes earlier. In his other 

manacle he is shaking the very much alive, yet delicate, hand of a well-groomed 

individual, who was one of a few men captured in the recent fi ght. Th e detachment commander does not need to hear the translation to know that the G chief 

wants to interrogate the “pretty one,” or worse.

Gently the detachment’s warrant offi cer, a mature, calm soldier with 

slightly graying hair, places his hand on his commander’s shoulder and rotates 

him 90 degrees away from the pungent spray. In a calm voice intended to sound 

like his own conscience, the warrant tells the commander that there is no way 

they can permit any of the guerrillas with whom they have been working for the 

past weeks to take control of the detainees or the situation. “Remember what 

the JAG368 said about detainees before we left ?” he questions knowingly. Eyes 

closed, and with a sharp head nod, the commander signals his agreement. 

Turning back to meet the waiting, fi ery eyes of the G chief, the commander is still at a loss for words. Help comes in the form of the only other 

person in a couple of hundred miles who is more physically impressive than 

368 Judge Advocate General (JAG), a military lawyer.
| 149

the G chief—the detachment’s team sergeant. He is the commander’s equal and 

together they run the detachment. He lays a poncho over the dead commando, 

and leads the commander a few feet away from the impatient G chief.

Th e results-oriented team sergeant lays out the situation: “OK, sir, what 

are we looking at here? We have one pissed-off G chief, who represents the feelings of his entire battalion-sized element of voracious fi ghters. Shoot, sir, they’re 

sure this prisoner knows what is going on in that village over there as much as 

we do. We all know that of the 13 detainees we now have, there is something not 

right with him, that one. So far what has he said? He claims he is a construction 

worker like all the others, but he is from some town far away that no one has 

heard of. Additionally, his hands look like they haven’t seen a day of hard work 

in his life. Sir, I will talk to this guy with one of the other team members and 

we will do an interrogation that won’t abuse him, but we will still fi nd out who 

this guy is.”

So far the commander has been told nothing that he doesn’t already 

know. Minutes ago they were all pinned down by the enemy, only to be saved 

by an AC-130 gunship strike and to feel the elation of victory in battle and the 

calm that comes aft er. Th en there was the lone building they had to clear, the 

men and the money they found inside, and now things were escalating again 

over what to do with the detainees. All 13 detainees swore they were construction workers, and from the look of the half-fi nished battle emplacements their 

story was probably true. All save the “pretty one,” who was not captured with 

the other 12, looked soft and refi ned, and had a briefcase full of U.S. dollars.

Th e commander knows that it will not be easy to cool the blood of the 

guerrillas, who have lost four of their men; one, the G chief’s cousin, was the 

most charismatic of the entire unit. He also knows what his warrant offi cer 

meant about the JAG and the briefi ng they received on rules of engagement 

(ROE). Technically, no one in the detachment is authorized to conduct interrogations for a number of reasons. First, no one has been to the Joint Interrogation Course at Fort Huachuca, and even if they had there were no approved U.S. 

Army interrogation facilities or military police (MPs) anywhere on the continent 

where they were now fi ghting. One of the members of the detachment, the team 

sergeant, had been to an interrogation course, but that course allowed him to 

conduct interrogations only in the U.S. Central Command (USCENTCOM)369

area of responsibility. Th en, of course, there was “tactical questioning.” Tactical 

questioning could be done by anyone but had to be “expedient initial questioning for information of immediate value (emphasis added).”370 Even if he could 

get the guerrillas to buy off on it, the commander knew that the questioning 

would have to be more than “expedient.” No one had said it yet, but everyone 

369 USCENTCOM is the geographic unified command responsible for the Middle East, East 

Africa, and Central Asia.

370 U.S. Army Special Text (ST) 2-91.6, Small Unit Support to Intelligence (Fort Huachuca, 

AZ: U.S. Army Intelligence Center, March 2004), 2-1. Cited hereafter as ST 2-91.6.
150 |

was hoping the “thirteenth prisoner” would have information on HVT29.371

Th is information, what the guerrillas and the detachment really want, although 

not of “immediate value,” is critical to the team’s mission.

Th e detachment holds an ad hoc meeting to discuss options. Everyone 

agrees that this would be the perfect time to have a school-trained, Armyapproved interrogator. Th ey also agree it would be nice to have a U.S.-born, 

vetted interpreter. Another team member says it would be nice to have an 

anthropologist, clinical psychologist, diesel mechanic, electrical engineer, cook, 

and veterinarian. “Perhaps that is what we are all supposed to be,” says another 

member, “a little bit of all of that so we can get by. Aft er all,” he continues, “we 

are all shooters fi rst and medics, or engineers, or communications geeks second. You can’t go randomly attaching diff erent specialists for ‘wouldn’t it be 

nice’ situations; this is just something we need to have internal.”

First, the commander decides he must deal with the brooding G chief. If he 

does not act convincingly, there will be a summary execution and he will not longer have to worry about interrogation versus tactical questioning. Carefully some 

detachment members pry the detainee away from the G chief while a few of his subordinates and the detachment commander try to calm him down. Now, the G chief 

is only insisting to “speak” to “the pretty one,” as he is calling the thirteenth prisoner. 

Once the G chief is convinced that the detachment commander will not let him 

execute the prisoner, the G chief tries to persuade the detachment commander to 

allow him to question the prisoners, as long as the questioning is done “his way.” 

Remembering current doctrine and the Geneva Convention, the detachment commander is certain that he cannot use physical or mental “torture” to 

interrogate the prisoners.372 Unable to cite any additional policy or legal convention, the commander decides he cannot “render” or turn custody of the 

detainee over to the guerrillas. Th e G chief is commanding a force not recognized by the United Nations, nor does it represent a signatory to the Geneva 

Convention. Th e commander reminds the members of the detachment of this 

fact. He also remembers that any prisoner who is in U.S. Department of Defense 

(DoD) custody must be treated in accordance with DoD doctrine.373 “Oh, OK, 

I am understands, complete,” pronounces the G chief with a wink as he continues to eyeball the prisoners. Finally, when it becomes clear the detachment 

commander is not going to allow the prisoners to be tortured, the G chief turns 

and stares at him in disbelief, like a goat looking at a wristwatch. Th is turn of 

events both amazes and infuriates the guerrilla unit. Focusing the G chief on his 

wounded and dead buys the detachment a little more time.

371 U.S. Military terminology for High Value Target. These targets are sometimes numbered 

in priority order. The so-called “deck of cards” for Operation IRAQI FREEDOM is one example.

372 Geneva Convention, Convention III, “Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War,” 

Geneva, Switzerland, 12 August 1949.

373 U.S. Army Field Manual (FM) 2-22.3, Human Intelligence Collection Operations (Washington, DC: Department of the Army, September 2006), 5-15. Cited hereafter as FM 2-22.3.
| 151

Since receiving this mission two weeks ago back in Colorado Springs, 

detachment members have identifi ed HVT 29 as likely working in the sector 

they were assigned. Up until now they had not noticed how close they were to 

HVT 29’s trail. Th e thirteenth prisoner was found in a room with another man 

who was holding an AK-47 and was shot dead when the detachment gained 

entry to the room. Prisoner 13 and the now-dead man who was with him both 

look remarkably like HVT 29. While team members joked when they fi rst got 

into country that “everyone here looks like HVT 29,” these two do look suspiciously similar to HVT 29. Th en there is the briefcase full of money that was 

found in the clutches of the thirteenth prisoner. Some papers now being translated seem to be instructions, from HVT 29 to the thirteenth prisoner, for paying fi ghters. Th e detachment knows there is a link here, but cannot fi gure out 

how to get the information from the prisoner without violating DoD doctrine.

Th e detachment’s communications sergeant has been trying to raise 

higher headquarters on voice and digital channels. So far, any real trouble or 

issues, like explaining friendly-fi re incidents or where you spent your contingency funds ($75,000 in cold U.S. greenbacks), have been taken care of during breaks in the fi ghting by calls on a secure satellite phone back to company 

headquarters, which is anywhere from 6 to 60 miles away. For real problems, 

the detachment commander has to call the lieutenant colonel in his chain of 

command, who is a continent away. Even the daily message traffi c sent to the 

company has become a simple cut-and-paste function from previously sent 

messages: this many bombs dropped, this many enemy killed, no further info 

on HVT 29, send some Copenhagen chewing tobacco in the next parachute 

resupply.

Everyone is hoping for some higher-ranking offi cer to give the order to 

break with DoD policy and allow interrogation of prisoners. What the detachment knows will happen is that it will receive a message to “stand by” while 

each commander calls his boss, hoping the next guy up the chain will make that 

decision. Either way, detachment members know they have little time before 

the nearby village establishes an off ensive or defensive campaign against them 

and the guerrilla force. Th ey have little time before the G chief becomes agitated again. Th ey have little time to fi nd out if HVT 29 is nearby, in the village 

maybe. And, if HVT 29 is not in the village, then why not just bypass it? Th e 

detachment is in the middle of an austere, asymmetric, rapidly changing environment and the commander knows he cannot wait for approval on a case-bycase basis to conduct interrogations. He also suspects that the current policy 

on DoD interrogations was created more to satisfy politicians in Washington 

and lawyers than to provide tactical guidance to soldiers. Born out of a series of 

oft en contradictory memoranda granting special exemptions, the detachment 

is wary of trusting DoD policy in this new confl ict. But what else does the team 

have to go by?
152 |

Walking into an enemy bunker aft er being within 100 meters of an AC-130 

strike, and confronting and killing a man with a gun, is no problem for a Special 

Forces detachment. Typically, an Operational Detachment Alpha (ODA)374 is 

just mopping up the dead; it rarely is confronted with prisoners. Dealing with 

a live prisoner of suspicious origin is a problem. Th e detachment is careful to 

keep each of the detainees separate. Even before they decide to question them, 

team members process the detainees as much as they feel is appropriate. Th ey 

take down basic information on each man and take his photo. Th e detachment 

feels confi dent this does not exceed the restrictions of tactical questioning. Aft er 

fi nally establishing communications again, they send these names and digital 

photos along with an aft er-action report to the company, which sends it to the 

battalion, and so on. As detachment members wait to see what higher has to say 

about any of the detainees, they continue to discuss their current predicament: 

what to do with 13 live enemy prisoners.

Aft er receiving a legal defi nition but no clear guidance on whether or 

not the detachment can conduct an interrogation, the commander assumes risk 

and takes the following action. He “offi cially” releases the 12 detained “workers,” while still keeping them in custody as local civilians they might want to 

“debrief.” Th rough this loophole the ODA discovers that HVT 29 was recently 

at this site, and that he and the thirteenth prisoner would talk and travel back 

and forth to the village regularly. Although the ODA has cleverly gleaned a lot 

of quality intelligence, it has not been able to fi nd a loophole to interrogate prisoner 13. Again the detachment commander steps up and assumes risk.

He is inspired by the “legal-speak” he received from higher headquarters 

and remembers a line from the current Army interrogation manual: “Authority for conducting interrogations of personnel detained by military forces rests 

primarily upon the traditional concept that the commander may use all available resources and lawful means to accomplish the mission and to protect and 

secure the unit.”375 Th is fl ies in the face of the ROE the detachment received 

and specifi cally the T.H.I.N.K.376 acronym used to hammer it home: Treat all 

detainees the same, Humane treatment is the standard, Interrogators interrogate (emphasis added), Need to report abuses, and Know the approved techniques and approval authorities. Th e “interrogators interrogate” and “approval 

authorities” are what give them trouble. It is not clear to any of the team members, under the circumstances, if interrogating prisoner 13 is (1) lawful, given 

the current doctrine; or (2) can be spun to support protecting and securing 

the unit; but (3) it does speak to accomplishing the mission, because capturing 

HVT 29 would be an important, though indirect, part of accomplishing their 

374 Throughout this paper I will refer to the basic 12-man SFODA or Special Forces Operational Detachment Alpha as a detachment or ODA. All these terms are used to cover the most 

essential element of the U.S. Army Special Forces Command, the ODA.

375 FM 2-22.3, 5-17.

376 INSCOM Brief, “Interrogation Law for Interrogators,” 1 February 2005.
| 153

mission. So with that rationalization and the confi dence (hope?) that a jury in 

any court-martial would agree with him, the detachment commander gives the 

order to conduct the interrogation using the approved techniques that the team 

members learned in uncertifi ed classes and that are covered in the Army interrogation manual. As it turns out, prisoner 13 is a hardened extremist and the 

detachment’s ability to use the shock of capture and its extensive background 

knowledge of HVT 29 yields actionable intelligence on the composition of the 

village and HVT 29’s whereabouts in the village.

Th is scenario is completely fi ctional. . .well, mostly. Th e part that is most 

fi ctional is. . .“usually the ODA is just mopping up the dead; it rarely is confronted with prisoners.” U.S. Army Special Forces training provides no interrogation, debriefi ng, or detainee handling training at any stage. Current exceptions 

to policy allow for some members to attend a small training event that permits 

them to conduct limited interrogations in one theater only (USCENTCOM) 

and only in approved locations. Th e Army is preparing to introduce a Joint 

Interrogation Course that would qualify its graduates to conduct interrogation 

at “approved facilities.” If an ODA were to deploy tomorrow to the Philippines, 

North Korea, Africa, or anywhere in South America, it would face many of the 

same dilemmas that the fi ctional ODA faced.

Today in Iraq and Afghanistan there are ODAs operating without a clear 

understanding of what they can and cannot do with a terrorist suspect they 

have been looking for and have fi nally caught. Additionally, the ODAs are the 

subject matter experts on their environment and on the enemy that operates 

within that environment. It is my contention that ODA team members are oft en 

best equipped intellectually and situationally to interrogate the enemy combatants they capture. 

Current doctrine is very ambiguous and, from the rank of general to private, is interpreted diff erently. Many would argue that “tactical questioning” 

gives soldiers every tool they need. However, tactical questioning is subject to 

a very broad or very narrow interpretation based on the situation and mission. 

Take, for example, the scenario with prisoner 13. Suppose that aft er the detachment had conducted a three-hour interrogation, using many of the approved 

techniques in FM 2-22.3, the guerrillas had summarily executed the prisoner. 

And perhaps one of the guerrillas fi lmed the execution with his cell phone. 

In the subsequent investigation, under what authority would the detachment 

claim it interrogated the prisoner?

As illustrated, there are obvious loopholes in the current doctrine. Testing these loopholes in the fi eld is not a matter of whether it will happen, but 

when. Moreover, the current doctrine sends soldiers to the fi ght questioning 

its usefulness and, worse, fails to take into account realistic future combat scenarios. Company-level offi cers will be the ones who end up making the decision 

as to when to interrogate. Th ey also will be the fi rst ones held responsible when 

things go awry. To address this sensitive and critical shortfall, I pose the follow-
154 |

ing question: How can U.S. Army Special Forces accomplish assigned missions 

while still adhering to DoD doctrine on intelligence interrogation and tactical 

questioning?

Overview

Th e next section is a chronology of interrogation-related events from 11 

September 2001 through the fi elding of FM 2-22.3 in the fall of 2006. Th is chronology explains the evolution of the debate on interrogation beginning with 

prisoner status, to the treatment of prisoners, through Abu Ghraib, and fi nally 

to the development and distribution of a new manual governing interrogations. 

Th e abuses at Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq and the investigations it spawned are 

the capstone of the section. 

Th e next section provides a “thick” case study that is the bedrock of the 

study. It encapsulates three unique, real-world interrogation scenarios drawn 

from the author’s experience in Iraq before the Abu Ghraib scandal broke. Th ese 

fi rsthand accounts detail all the elements surrounding each interrogation event. 

Th e accounts are cumulative and interactive to allow the readers to draw their 

own inferences, as well as evaluate the author’s decisions, from each one. 

Th en comes an analysis of the current DoD interrogation environment, 

and how events described earlier reveal the inadequacy of DoD interrogation 

doctrine. Additionally, the author draws out lessons learned from the case study 

that can help create more eff ective interrogations. 

Next the author presents the case for allowing U.S. Army Special Forces 

soldiers to conduct tactical interrogations. A clear line is drawn between tactical 

questioning, intelligence interrogations, and the more broadly defi ned tactical 

interrogation. Th e issues justifying Special Forces soldiers conducting tactical 

interrogation include accountability, uniformity, and training.

Finally, the author concludes that the “letter” of the current doctrine on 

interrogation contradicts its “intent.” In particular, the doctrine’s apparent reliance on “tactical questioning” to cover all situations where no trained interrogator is available yet mission-essential information is required from prisoners 

is inadequate. Th e key to solving this problem is to integrate interrogation into 

Special Forces operations and not treat it as something removed from daily operational activities. Instead of restricting access to this tool, interrogation should 

be incorporated into Special Forces training along with appropriate checks and 

balances. If Special Forces are given “special authorization” to conduct interrogations, it must be done cautiously, given past catastrophic failures in interrogation practices that have led to prisoner abuse and greater public scrutiny. 

Additionally, to grant authorization and not the requisite training would be a 

recipe for failure. Th e need for Special Forces soldiers to conduct interrogations 

exists; doctrine and training must converge to meet that need.
| 155

Chronology

Military interrogators and military police, assisted by frontline tactical units, found themselves engaged in detention 

operations with detention procedures still steeped in the 

methods of World War II and the Cold War, when those we 

expected to capture on the battlefi eld were generally a homogeneous group of enemy soldiers. Yet, this is a new form of war, 

not at all like Desert Storm nor even analogous to Vietnam or 

Korea.

—Th e Final Report of the Independent Panel to Review DoD 

Detention Operations 

August 2004

Current problems surrounding detention and interrogation began, unbeknownst to us, on 11 September 2001 (hereaft er referred to as 9/11). When the 

United States was attacked and war was declared, one of the fi rst issues to be 

recognized as a problem was the detention and treatment of people who fi ght 

not for a country but for a belief. On 13 November 2001, the President issued 

a military order on the “Detention, Treatment, and Trial of Certain Non-Citizens in the War Against Terrorism.”377 What followed was a constant back and 

forth of memoranda, fi ndings, authorizations, and promulgating/rescinding 

of orders dealing with U.S. policy regarding detention status and interrogation 

techniques. 

Th e debate over the “status” of our new enemy arose fi rst. Next, as a logical consequence to the answer to that question, came the issue of interrogation techniques. Th ese issues and DoD doctrine on interrogations are central to 

the issues presented in this paper. It is important, however, to understand the 

status of the debate in order to determine the causes that have shaped current 

doctrine.

Status of Prisoners

Following the November 2001 order, the President; the Department of 

Justice’s Offi ce of Legal Counsel (OLC), which provides legal counsel to the 

White House and other executive branch agencies; and DoD sent out numerous 

memoranda dealing with the issue of granting prisoner of war (POW) status to 

members of Al Qaeda and the Taliban. Th e facts were clear. To be granted POW 

status the Geneva Convention states that:

377 U.S. President, George W. Bush, President’s Military Order re: Detention, Treatment, 

and Trial of Certain Non-Citizens in the War Against Terrorism, 13 November 2001.
156 |

Prisoners of war, in the sense of the present Convention, are persons 

belonging to one of the following categories, who have fallen into the 

power of the enemy:

(1) Members of the armed forces of a Party to the confl ict, as well as 

members of militias or volunteer corps forming part of such armed forces.

(2) Members of other militias and members of other volunteer corps, 

including those of organized resistance movements, belonging to a Party 

to the confl ict and operating in or outside their own territory, even if 

this territory is occupied, provided that such militias or volunteer corps, 

including such organized resistance movements, fulfi ll the following 

conditions:

 (a) that of being commanded by a person responsible for his 

 subordinates; 

 (b) that of having a fi xed distinctive sign recognizable at a distance;

 (c) that of carrying arms openly; 

 (d) that of conducting their operations in accordance with the laws 

 and customs of war.

(3) Members of regular armed forces who profess allegiance to a 

government or an authority not recognized by the Detaining Power.

(4) Persons who accompany the armed forces without actually being 

members thereof, such as civilian members of military aircraft crews, 

war correspondents, supply contractors, members of labour units or of 

services responsible for the welfare of the armed forces, provided that 

they have received authorization from the armed forces which they 

accompany, who shall provide them for that purpose with an identity 

card similar to the annexed model.

(5) Members of crews, including masters, pilots and apprentices, of 

the merchant marine and the crews of civil aircraft of the Parties to the 

confl ict, who do not benefi t by more favorable treatment under any 

other provisions of international law.

(6) Inhabitants of a non-occupied territory, who on the approach of the 

enemy spontaneously take up arms to resist the invading forces, without 

having had time to form themselves into regular armed units, provided 

they carry arms openly and respect the laws and customs of war.378

378 Geneva Convention, Convention III, “Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War,” 

Geneva, 12 August 1949.
| 157

Th e Taliban and Al Qaeda fi ghters met none of these criteria. However, 

the issues U.S. leaders were trying to clarify were whether or not the U.S. should 

grant them POW status anyway and, if the fi ghters were not POWs, how they 

could be classifi ed. All these questions were addressed in the memoranda discussed below.

On 18 January 2002, President Bush decided that captured members of 

Al Qaeda and the Taliban were unprotected by the Geneva Convention. Th at 

decision was preceded by a memorandum dated 9 January 2002 from the OLC. 

Th e memorandum was written by Deputy Assistant Attorney General John Yoo 

and Special Counsel Robert J. Delahunty and submitted to William J. Haynes II, 

General Counsel to DoD. Th e Yoo/Delahunty memorandum provided the analytical basis for all that followed regarding blanket rejection of the applicability 

of the Th ird Geneva Convention to captured members of Al Qaeda and the 

Taliban. Its legitimacy has been analyzed and strongly debated.379

On 11 January 2002, the fi rst detainee arrived at the detention facility at 

Guantánamo Bay, Cuba (GTMO). At the end of the month the International 

Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) made its fi rst visit to GTMO. Th e ICRC 

has the unique role of being the sole overseer of rights aff orded by the Geneva 

Convention. During the previous month the ICRC had visited the Bagram 

detention center in Afghanistan.380

In a memorandum dated 19 January 2002, Secretary of Defense Donald 

Rumsfeld ordered the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to inform combatant commanders that “Al Qaeda and Taliban individuals...are not entitled to 

prisoner of war status for purposes of the Geneva Conventions of 1949.” He 

ordered that “commanders should...treat them humanely, and to the extent 

appropriate and consistent with military necessity, consistent with the Geneva 

Conventions of 1949.” Th at order thus gave commanders permission to depart 

from the provisions of the Geneva Conventions when they deemed it appropriate and a military necessity.

A 22 January 2002 memorandum from Jay Bybee, OLC, for Alberto R. 

Gonzales, Counsel to the President, and William J. Haynes II, DoD General 

Counsel, Re: “Application of Treaties and Laws to Al Qaeda and Taliban Detainees,” follows the same structural pattern as the Yoo/Delahunty memorandum, 

but with additional analysis of certain issues pertaining to international law and 

the law of war. 

On 25 January 2002, White House Counsel Gonzales sent a memorandum 

to President Bush regarding the Presidential decision on 18 January 2002—that 

captured members of the Taliban were not protected under the Geneva POW 

379 Jordan Paust, “The Common Plan to Violate the Geneva Conventions,” Jurist Legal Intelligence, University of Houston Law Center, 25 May 2004, URL:<jurist.law.pitt.edu/forum/paust2.

php>, accessed 1 June 2007.

380 Independent Panel, “Review of DoD Detention Operations,” August 2004, 23. Cited 

hereafter as Panel, DoD Detention Ops.
158 |

Convention (GPW). Th e legal advisor to the Secretary of State had objected to 

this decision. Gonzales advised that “there are reasonable grounds for you to 

conclude that (the) GPW does not apply...to the confl ict with the Taliban.”381

He then identifi ed what he believed were the ramifi cations of Mr. Bush’s determination. On a positive note, he felt they preserved fl exibility, stating that: “Th e 

nature of (a ‘war’ against terrorism) places a high premium on...factors such 

as the ability to quickly obtain information from captured terrorists and their 

sponsors...and the need to try terrorists for war crimes.... [T]his new paradigm 

renders obsolete Geneva’s strict limitations on questioning of enemy prisoners.” His expressed concerns were that certain GPW language such as “outrages 

upon personal dignity” and “inhuman treatment” are “undefi ned”; that it is diffi cult to predict with confi dence what actions might constitute violations; and 

that it would be “diffi cult to predict the needs and circumstances that could 

arise in the course of the war on terrorism.” He believed that a determination of 

inapplicability of the GPW would insulate [the government] against prosecution by future “prosecutors and independent counsels.”382

Mr. Gonzales then identifi ed the counter-arguments from the Secretary 

of State, which included:

• Past adherence by the United States to the GPW;

• Possible limitations on invocation by the United States of the GPW in 

Afghanistan;

• Likely widespread condemnation by allied nations;

• Encouragement of potential enemies to fi nd “loopholes” to not apply 

the GPW;

• Discouraging turnover of terrorists by other nations;

• Undermining of U.S. military culture, “which emphasizes maintaining 

the highest standards of conduct in combat.”383

In response, Mr. Gonzales says, “Even if the GPW is not applicable, we can 

still bring war crimes charges against anyone who mistreats U.S. personnel.”384

Th e author fi nds this explanation especially troubling, as one of the soldiers 

who might possibly be mistreated (tortured, executed). Would soldiers endure 

their torture better if they knew that the U.S. could still charge Al Qaeda torturers with war crimes?

381 Alberto R. Gonzales, Memorandum for the President, subject: “Decision RE Application 

of the Geneva Convention on Prisoners of War to the Conflict with Al Qaeda and the Taliban,” 

25 January 2005. Cited hereafter as Gonzales Memo, 25 Jan 02.

382 Gonzales Memo, 25 Jan 02.

383 Colin L. Powell, Memorandum for Assistant to the President for National Security 

Affairs, subject: “Draft Decision Memorandum for the President on Applicability of the Geneva 

Convention to the Conflict in Afghanistan,” 26 January 2002. 

384 Gonzales Memo, 25 Jan 02.
| 159

On 7 February 2002, President Bush signed a landmark order accepting 

the reasoning of the Yoo and Gonzales memoranda and validating the order 

issued by Secretary Rumsfeld on 19 January 2002. From the sequence of events 

and discussion by White House Counsel, it is clear that the decision by President Bush, and the subsequent orders from Rumsfeld, were based on the Yoo/

Delahunty memorandum of 9 January 2002. 

Th e legal status of Al Qaeda and Taliban forces remains murky. Th e 

Detainee Treatment Act (DTA) of 2005 helped to clarify the issue. However, 

new questions have arisen over the DTA.385 In Iraq, status was never expected 

to be an issue and the GPW was to be extended to all detainees. Th e constant 

fl ow of orders and revocations muddied the water to the point where all detainee 

operations were under scrutiny. Th e genesis for most of these problems was 

the November 2001 Presidential order. In August 2002, the focus of the debate 

moved from prisoner status to treatment.

Treatment of Prisoners

A subsequent memorandum from Gonzales, at the time still Counsel to 

the President but later Attorney General of the United States, addressed guidelines for interrogations and established what amounts to an immoral standard.386 Th e memorandum, which has been called the “torture memorandum,” 

attempts to defi ne the terms “torture” and “pain.” It states:

We conclude that for an act to constitute torture as defi ned 

in Section 2340, it must infl ict pain that is diffi cult to endure. 

Physical pain amounting to torture must be equivalent in 

intensity to the pain accompanying serious physical injury, 

such as organ failure, impairment of bodily function, or even 

death. For purely mental pain or suff ering to amount to torture... it must result in signifi cant psychological harm of signifi cant duration, e.g., lasting for months or even years.387

When Th e Washington Post exposed this memorandum in June 2004, 

human rights experts were troubled by the Justice Department’s legal reasoning. Tom Malinowski of Human Rights Watch called the interpretation “by 

leaps and bounds the worst thing I’ve seen since this whole Abu Ghraib scandal 

385 It is unclear whether the DTA still applies. The DTA was passed in 2005 and held every 

government agency to the doctrine of FM 34-52. It was not determined for this paper if the DTA 

still applies because new DoD doctrine in the form of FM 2-22.3 has been released since the DTA 

was passed.

386 Office of Legal Counsel, Memorandum for Alberto R. Gonzales, Counsel to the President, 

subject RE: Standards of Conduct for Interrogation under 18 U.S.C. 2340-2340A, 1 August 2002. 

Cited hereafter as Torture Memo.

387 Torture Memo.
160 |

broke....It appears that what they were contemplating was the commission of 

war crimes and looking for ways to avoid legal accountability. Th e eff ect is to 

throw out years of military doctrine and standards on interrogations.”388

What followed were requests to use techniques not found in the then-current military doctrine on interrogations, Army FM 34-52. In October 2002, U.S. 

Southern Command (USSOUTHCOM), responsible for the GTMO detention 

center, requested permission to use additional interrogation techniques. Th e 

Secretary of Defense responded by approving 20 new techniques in a memorandum dated 2 December 2002 (see Figure 1, column 2).

Th ese techniques were not approved for long. In a memorandum dated 

15 January 2003, Secretary Rumsfeld rescinded almost all of the techniques 

he approved on 2 December. In the memorandum, Secretary Rumsfeld stated 

that if a particular technique was determined to be warranted he could approve 

its use on a case-by-case basis (see Figure 1, column 3). Secretary Rumsfeld 

directed the DoD General Counsel to establish a working group to study interrogation techniques. Th e working group, in turn, relied heavily on the OLC.389

Th e members reviewed 35 techniques and recommended 24 be approved. Th ose 

24 were signed into eff ect on 16 April 2003.390 Th is begs the question: What 

were interrogators at GTMO using between 15 January and 16 April 2003? In 

fact, the techniques that were approved, but not in FM 34-52, were intended for 

use only at GTMO.

388 Dana Priest and R. Jeffrey Smith, “Memo Offered Justification for Use of Torture: Justice Dept. Gave Advice in 2002,” The Washington Post, 8 June 2004, A01.

389 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 5.

390 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 6.
| 161

At this point interesting events in the promulgation of interrogation techniques started coming to light. In February 2003, Special Operations Forces 

(SOF) Standard Operating Procedures (SOP) appeared in Afghanistan that 

listed “approved” interrogation techniques – techniques not found in FM 

34-52.391 What is noteworthy is that when the 519th Military Intelligence Com391 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 7.

Secretary of

Defense

Memo

Evolution of Interrogation Techniques - GTMO

FM 34–52

(1992) with some Cat I

16 Jan 03–

15 Apr 03

16 Apr 03–

Present

Secretary of

Defense

Approved

Tiered System

02 Dec 02–

15 Jan 03

FM 34–52

(1992)

Jan 02–

Dec 02 Interrogation Techniques

Direct questioning

Incentive/removal of incentive

Emotional love

Emotional hate

Fear up harsh

Fear up mild

Reduced fear

Pride and ego up

Futility

We know all

Establish your identity

Repetition approach

File and dossier

Mutt and Jeff

Rapid Fire

Silence

Change of Scene

Yelling

Deception

Multiple interrogators

Interrogator identity

Stress positions, like standing

False documents/reports

Isolation for up to 30 days

Deprivation of light/auditory stimuli

Hooding (transportation & questioning)

20-interrogations

Removal of ALL comfort items, including

religious items

MRE-only diet

Removal of clothing

Forced grooming

Mild, non-injurious physical contact, e.g.

grabbing, poking or light pushing

Environmental manipulation

Sleep adjustment

*Techniques require SOUTHCOM approval and SECDEF notification.

False flag

X

X

Pride and ego down

Exploiting individual phobias, e.g. dogs

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X X X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X*

X

X

X

X*

X

X

X

X*

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X (Cat I)

X (Cat I)

X (Cat I)

X (Cat I)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat II)

X (Cat III)

Source: Naval IG Investigation

Appendix E
162 |

pany arrived at Abu Ghraib in July 2003 the list of interrogation techniques 

the unit brought with it was not the one in FM 34-52, but almost a “near copy” 

of those created by SOF in Afghanistan (see Figure 2).392 How these specially 

approved techniques migrated from GTMO to Afghanistan to Iraq is not clear. 

Soldiers and civilian interrogators probably carried these techniques around 

like a virus, infecting units that were not “immunized” against their eff ects.

392 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 7. Interrogation Policies in Guantanamo, Afghanistan and Iraq

1. Some techniques specifically delineated in this memo are inherent to techniques contained in FM 34-52, e.g. Yelling as a component of Fear Up.2. Five Approved Techniques require SOUTHCOM approval and SECDEF notification.3. Figure includes techniques that were not in current use but requested for future use.4. Figure includes one technique which requires CG approval.5. Memorandum cited for Afghanistan and Iraq are classified.6. Figure includes the 17 techniques of FM-34-52, although they are not specified in the Memo.

Source: Naval IG Investigation

Appendix D

Date Notes

17 FM 34-52 (1992) Jan 02-01- Dec 02

Secretary

of Defense

Approved

Tiered

System

Number of

Authorized

Techniques

Policy

GTMO

Date Notes

Number of

Authorized

Techniques

Policy Date Notes

Number of

Authorized

Techniques

Policy

33 1

FM 34-52

(1992) with

3 Cat I

Techniques

20

02 Dec-02-

 15 Jan 03

16 Jan-03-

 15 Apr 03

Secretary of

Defense

Memo

24 16 Apr-03- Present 1,2

17 FM 34-52 (1992) 27 Oct-01- 24 Jan 03

CJTF 180

Response to

Director,

Joint

Staff

33 1,3,6 24- Jan-03

CJTF 180

Detainee

SOP

32 27-Mar-04 1

CJTF-A

Rev 2

Guidance

19 Jun-04 4

17 FM 34-52 (1992)

CJTF-7

Signed

Policy

29 1 14- Sep-03

CJTF-7

Signed

Policy

19 12-Oct-03 4

CJTF-7

Signed

Policy

19 13-May-03 4

Afghanistan Iraq
| 163

Most of these techniques that were for use at GTMO only, and some that 

the Secretary of Defense had already rescinded, were somehow approved by the 

CJTF-7 Commander, LTG Ricardo Sanchez, commander of all troops in Iraq, 

on 14 September 2003.393 Much as Secretary Rumsfeld issued and then revoked 

previously authorized techniques, LTG Sanchez rescinded the 14 September 

memorandum with another memorandum on 12 October 2003. Th is document should simply have directed the troops to use current doctrine, FM 34-52. 

However, it described a doctrine that was more in line with the outdated 1987 

version of FM 34-52 than with the current (1992) version. Th e only signifi cant 

change between the two, which the Army apparently intentionally removed 

from the 1992 edition and CJTF-7 restored in the 12 October memorandum, 

authorized interrogators to control all aspects of the interrogation, “includ[ing] 

lighting and heating, as well as food, clothing, and shelter given to detainees.”394

It is between these dates, 14 September and 12 October, that the photographs 

were taken that document the abuses at Abu Ghraib.

Th e abuse of prisoners at Abu Ghraib was revealed on 13 January 2004. 

SPC Darby of the 372nd MP Company turned in a CD-ROM containing photographs of the abuse to members of the Criminal Investigation Division (CID). 

Although most people believe that the media, specifi cally the New Yorker and 

60 Minutes II, broke this story in April 2004, the military actually held a press 

conference on 16 January 2004, just three days aft er the fi rst evidence was collected, revealing the abuse and the investigation that had been launched.395

Th e interim report that was fi led with CJTF-7 in March 2004 either was not 

recognized or did not make it “up the chain of command.” Th is explains why 

everyone at the Pentagon was so ill prepared when the story—specifi cally the 

pictures—appeared in the press in April 2004. A recent article by controversial 

writer Seymour Hersh396 refutes the assertion that the Pentagon was “ill prepared” to respond to the documented abuse, citing comments from MG Antonio M. Taguba, who wrote one of the Army’s investigative reports on the abuses 

at Abu Ghraib. However, the offi cial fi ndings of the Independent Panel on DoD 

Detention Operations do not support Hersh.

So far there have been over 12 separate investigations into DoD detention 

operations. Of those, eight have centered on Abu Ghraib. Most of these inquiries 

were initiated in the spring of 2004 and completed before the end of the sum393 LTG Ricardo Sanchez, USA, Memorandum for Commander, U.S. Central Command, 

subject: CJTF-7 Interrogation and Counter-Resistance Policy, 14 September 2003.

394 LTG Ricardo Sanchez, USA, Memorandum for Combined Joint Task Force Seven, Baghdad, Iraq, and Commander, 205th Military Intelligence Brigade, subject: CJTF-7 Interrogation 

and Counter-Resistance Policy, 12 October 2003.

395 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 36, 37.

396 Seymour M. Hersh, “Annals of National Security: The General’s Report,” New Yorker 

Magazine, 25 June 2007.
164 |

mer. Th e resulting reports listed hundreds of issues and recommendations. Th e 

reports and investigations found little evidence of problems with interrogations 

and abuse or any widespread problems: “Conditions at Abu Ghraib refl ected an 

exception to those prevailing at other theater detainee facilities.”397 Additionally the Taguba, Jones/Fay, and Independent Panels all reported that MPs’ “setting favorable conditions” for interrogators had only “some basis in fact at Abu 

Ghraib, but it was used as an excuse for abusive behavior toward detainees. Th e 

events that took place at Abu Ghraib are an aberration when compared to the 

situation at the other detention operations.”398

Th e Origins of Army Field Manual 2-22.3

Another set of revocations and declassifi cations of past memoranda 

resulted from the many investigations, the crescendo of abuse, and the perceived 

immorality. In June 2004, the Justice Department announced that the “torture 

memorandum” was withdrawn and on 30 December 2004 Justice delivered a 

replacement memorandum explaining the “torture memorandum” of August 

2002.399 To implement the recommendations of many of the investigations, 

DoD realized it needed to draw up new doctrine and stop implementing interrogation doctrine through policy memoranda.

Th e investigations found that the policy, or lack thereof, or the alternation 

between policies, set the conditions for abuse. Additionally, the current doctrine 

guiding interrogators and soldiers did not address many of the most diffi cult situations soldiers on the ground were faced with. Th e most complete report is from 

the Independent Panel on DoD Detention Operations. It compiled all past reports 

as well as the conclusions of its own investigating body. Its fi ndings included: “Th e 

current doctrine and procedures for detaining personnel are inadequate to meet 

the requirements of these (OIF/OEF) confl icts.”400 DoD addressed this issue on 

28 April 2005 when Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld announced the Army 

would begin working on a new interrogation manual.

Th is was the origin of FM 2-22.3. Over the next year and a half the “most 

senior leaders and combatant commanders”401 (four-star generals) throughout 

DoD coordinated on a new manual to guide interrogations. In doing so, they 

completely disregarded the fi ndings in any of the investigations dealing with the 

impacts at the tactical level. For example, one of the investigations found:

397 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 74.

398 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 77.

399 Daniel Levin, Office of Legal Counsel, Memorandum Opinion for the Deputy Attorney 

General, subject: Legal Standards Applicable Under 18 U.S.C.2340-2340A, 30 December 2004.

400 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 53.

401 “Army Releases New Interrogation manual,” ARNews, 6 September 2006, Army News 

Service, URL:<www4.army.mil/ocpa/story_id_key=9525>, accessed 7 September 2006.
| 165

At the tactical level, detaining individuals primarily for intelligence collection or because they constitute a potential security threat, though necessary [emphasis added], presents units 

with situations not addressed by current doctrine. Many units 

adapted their operating procedures for conducting detainee 

operations to fi t an environment not contemplated in the 

existing doctrinal manuals.402

Th e new doctrine, FM 2-22.3, does little to address this. It fi rst specifi es 

who can and cannot conduct interrogations. Neither FM 34-52 nor any of the 

memoranda since 9/11 had raised this issue, nor was it cited in any of the investigations as being the root of abuse or mistreatment. More specifi cally, the Jacoby 

review403 of Special Operations Forces detention operations (those disallowed 

under current doctrine FM 2-22.3) found low levels of abuse, similar to those 

of conventional interrogation forces.404 If the levels of abuse by the trained and 

the untrained were similar, why should the doctrine exclude the untrained from 

conducting interrogations at all? No portion of the current doctrine addresses 

training or preparing Special Forces or infantrymen for detention operations. 

Again, this ignores the Jacoby investigation recommendations.

Th e Panel also recommended: “Th e nation needs more specialists for 

detention/ interrogation operations.... Accompanying professional development 

and career fi eld management systems must be put in place concurrently.”405 Th e 

new FM does authorize this, but only for a select few. As noted earlier, past doctrine did not specify who could conduct an interrogation. Now that this has been 

specifi ed, the nation has fewer specialists who can conduct these valuable operations. At the very least, the FM should have addressed the second part of the 

recommendation and authorized some professional development for the soldier. 

Well-documented policy and procedures on approved interrogation techniques 

are imperative to counter the current chilling eff ect the reaction to the abuses 

have had on the collection of valuable intelligence through interrogations.406

Th e above quotation from the Independent Panel cannot be emphasized 

enough. It is a point that must always be considered when discussing any aspect of 

402 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 69.

403 A classified report conducted by Army BG Charles H. Jacoby, Jr., on detention operations in Afghanistan. According to three unnamed officials later interviewed by The Washington 

Post, Jacoby finds that U.S. detention facilities in Afghanistan are plagued with many of the 

same problems present in Iraq. There is a special section of the report that discusses Special 

Forces detention operations.

404 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 13.

405 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 90.

406 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 91.
166 |

detention operations, specifi cally interrogations. Some might argue that the intent 

of the new FM is not to disempower Special Forces operators who (1) rely heavily 

on interrogation operations and (2) fi nd themselves in unique situations where 

interrogation operations are a necessity. However, referring soldiers to the intent of 

the law regarding interrogation operations is no longer viable. In the “current chilling” environment, we must not ask soldiers to analyze the intent of doctrine rather 

than follow the letter of the law. In a unique instance the “most senior leaders” paid 

close attention to the Panel’s words, but proposed an unfortunate remedy:

Instead of capturing and rapidly moving detainees to secure collection points as prescribed by doctrine, units tended to retain the detainees and 

attempted to exploit their tactical intelligence value without the required training 

or infrastructure. Current doctrine specifi es that line combat units hold detainees no longer than 12–24 hours to extract immediately useful intelligence.407

Th e current doctrine states that the “evacuation of detainees from the 

combat zone should be eff ected within the minimum time aft er capture.”408 Th e 

manual goes even further. Instead of allowing for more time in an austere environment, in which troops might be under attack with the nearest detention center 

hundreds of miles away, it states that “the fl uidity of operations, the wide dispersion 

of units, and the austerity of facilities may necessitate their rapid [emphasis added] 

evacuation409”—not their delayed evacuation. Th e doctrine suggests that in an 

austere environment the time it might take to evacuate a detainee would be under 

greater scrutiny. Th us, the authors of the manual ignored the reason and necessity for tactical units to keep and interrogate the detainees themselves. Instead of 

recognizing the need and providing for the appropriate training, they opted to reiterate the rapid movement of detainees to collection points. By emphasizing the 

bottom-up movement of detainees, they did nothing to address the complete lack 

of top-down information fl ow of the results from strategic/operational- level interrogations. Just as FM 34-52 has been criticized for being too “Cold War,”410 FM 

2-22.3 will soon face the same scrutiny for being “too OIF.”

Instead of fi xing the inadequacies of past doctrine, current doctrine 

focuses on detention in fi xed facilities and a concrete list of approved techniques. Th is list was essential to interrogators and policymakers. However, the 

focus on “techniques” and paragraphs in the manual that deal with extravagant 

collection operations bog down the document and ignore the tactical application of the subject. Meanwhile, soldiers on the ground still face the issues outlined by the diff erent investigating offi cers and committees.

407 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 57-58.

408 FM 2-22.3, D-4.

409 FM 2-22.3, D-4.

410 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 23.
| 167

Abuse of Detainees: Th e Reality

Th e U.S. has created its own interrogation nightmare. Th ere is a worldwide perception that America sanctions torture and that it is a common feature of the Global 

War on Terror.411 Th e facts, however, are diff erent. Since the country was attacked on 

9/11 there have been 300 incidents of alleged detainee abuse across the Joint Operations Area (GTMO, Iraq, Afghanistan).412 Investigations of 155 of those have been 

completed, and 66 resulted in a determination that detainees under the control of U.S. 

forces were abused.413 If we assume the same rate of abuse for the other 145 cases, that 

hypothetical number is 64. Comparing that number to the total number of detainees—

over 50,000414—the percentage of abused detainees under the control of U.S. forces is 

0.26 percent. Without question, anything over 0.00 percent is unacceptable. 

Other facts support the argument that abuse occurs only in very rare 

instances. Th ose who still believe that U.S. forces have committed and continue 

to commit abuse on a wide scale, and that policy is to blame, should consider 

that in June 2006 the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in favor of—that is to say, sided 

with—Osama Bin Laden’s bodyguard and personal driver in the case of Ramdan v. Rumsfeld.415 In other words, a man who lived with and was one of the 

most trusted confi dants of one of the most vilifi ed men in history sued the U.S. 

and the Secretary of Defense, in the U.S., during a time of war, and won.

Th ese facts illustrate that, even though memoranda to the President and 

from the most senior military leadership seemed to sanction abuse, or “severe 

pain,” troops on the ground, both interrogators and soldiers, still conducted 

themselves according to a higher moral standard—all except for that 0.26 percent. In the debate over rights and status, the Ramdan v. Rumsfeld case sheds a 

bright light on how that debate has unfolded. Th e press has diligently reported 

on U.S. abuses of detainees. Th e media have been the major drivers in swinging 

the pendulum away from any method that even resembles abuse.

In fear of appearing to condone abuse, DoD has pushed the pendulum 

even farther. On 14 December 2005, Th e New York Times reported that the Pentagon had rewritten the Army Field Manual, and that the old manual’s interrogation techniques section could be read freely on the Internet. Th e new edition 

would include 10 classifi ed pages in the interrogation techniques section. Th e 

reporter speculated this would leave the public with no indication about what 

411 Susan Sontag, “Regarding the Torture of Others,” New York Times Magazine, 23 May 2004.

412 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 12-13.

413 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 12-13.

414 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 12-13.

415 Supreme Court of the United States, “Hamdan V. Rumsfeld, Secretary Of Defense, Et 

Al.” Certiorari to the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit, No. 

05–184. Argued March 28, 2006—Decided June 29, 2006, October Term, 2005.
168 |

the government considers not to be torture.416 Instead, the manual was published in its entirety as an unclassifi ed document.

Later, on 5 June 2006, Th e Los Angeles Times reported that the Pentagon’s 

revisions would remove the proscription against “humiliating and degrading 

treatment” and other proscriptions from Article 3 of the Th ird Geneva Convention.417 When published, the manual listed the entire Th ird and Fourth Articles 

of the Geneva Convention, as well as numerous paragraphs throughout the 

manual reiterating that physical and mental abuse is not tolerated.

One would hope that the press did not infl uence these decisions and that 

the Army decided on its own to release the manual unclassifi ed and include 

articles of the Geneva Convention. In either case, the new manual represents 

the end point of a grand pendulum swing that started in November 2002 over 

debates on detainee status, then was transformed into the defi nition of torture 

and approved techniques, and culminated in abuse that might or might not 

have been the result of unclear policy. Th e major lesson learned is that DoD had 

to improve its doctrine so that it could provide an appropriate standard for military operations. Issuing reactive policy and a new memorandum for every new 

obstacle is ineff ective, and at a minimum sets conditions for abuse. 

Debates over detention operations have centered on status (where, when), 

treatment (why), and approved techniques (what). Th e next debate, and much 

of the discussion in the following sections, will focus on who is authorized to 

conduct interrogations.

FM 2-22.3 stipulates, “Interrogations may only be conducted by personnel trained and certifi ed in the interrogation methodology, including personnel 

in MOSs [military occupational specialties] 97E, 351M (351E), or select others 

as may be approved by DoD policy.”418 Th erefore, if members of any MOS not 

listed above need to conduct interrogation operations they would require a special policy, which would probably come in a memorandum format, probably be 

rescinded, added to, and then adjusted—and fi nally tried by court-martial.

Well-documented policy and procedures on approved interrogations techniques are imperative to counter the current chilling eff ect the reaction to the abuses 

have had on the collection of valuable intelligence through interrogations.419

416 Eric Schmitt, “New Army Rules May Snarl Talks With McCain on Detainee Issue,” The 

New York Times, 14 December 2005, URL:< www.nytimes.com/2005/12/14/politics/14detain.

html>, Accessed 13 June 2007.

417 Julian E. Barnes, “Army Manual to Skip Geneva Detainee Rule,” The Los Angeles Times, 

5 June 2006, A-1.

418 FM 2-22.3, 1-8.

419 Panel, DoD Detention Ops, 91.
| 169

Postscript

It should be noted that another interrogation manual recently has been 

uncovered: Al Qaeda’s interrogation/torture manual. Th is manual sheds light on 

the subject and serves to educate the reader. It was found in Iraq and was being 

employed by Al Qaeda forces there. Along with the manual, U.S. forces found 

some of Al Qaeda’s victims, including a 13-year-old boy with burns thought to be 

from a blowtorch.420 Th e manual’s importance cannot be overstated, but the fi nd 

was reported only by CNN, Fox News, and a number of blog sites.

420 “‘How-to’ Manual Found in Al Qaeda Safe House Shows Disturbing Torture Methods,” 

Fox News, 27 May 2007, URL:< www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,275341,00.html>, Accessed 

28 May 2007.

Al-Qaeda Torture Methods.

Source: U.S. Department of Defense press release, May 2007.

Drilling hands Severing limbs

Dragging victims behind cars Eye removal
170 |

Al-Qaeda Torture Methods (Continued).

Source: U.S. Department of Defense press release, May 2007.

Blowtorch to the skin Suspending from ceiling and

electrocuting

Suspending and whipping Clothes iron to skin

Breaking limbs and 

restricting breath

Binding and beating
| 171

Th e Accidental Interrogator: A “Th ick” Case Study

Th e Trouble with Adieb

“He’s freaking catatonic,” I announced to the Army medic still looking 

at Adieb, a 30-year-old Iraqi we had recently detained for having fi ve 155mm 

howitzer rounds in his trunk—materials most commonly used for making 

Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs). Adieb had gone white as a sheet from 

the moment we entered his house and had yet to regain control of his faculties. 

I assumed he must have had some control, due to the fact he didn’t fl inch when 

Gary took the Stihl “quicky saw” and cut unknowingly into a trunk full of explosives. Good old Adieb stood right next to the trunk as Gary sent sparks fl ying 

while gaining entry to the black Mercedes that Adieb had “lost the keys to.” We 

were all about as white as Adieb was when we saw what was in the trunk and 

how close Gary had come to cutting into an explosive projectile. Given Adieb’s 

current disposition, which was scared silly, we all thought that building and 

playing on that fear would be the best way to extract information from Adieb. 

We wanted to know where he got the howitzer rounds. Whom was he giving 

them to? Did he really expect us to believe they were for fi shing?

Al-Qaeda torture tools captured with the torture drawings.

Source: U.S. Department of Defense press release, May 2007.

Electric drills

Hammers

Blow torches

Meat cleavers

Pliers and wire cutters

Files

Cables and chains

Screwdrivers

Electric cables

Vices

Scissors

Handcuffs

Whips
172 |

We moved Adieb to a very intimidating environment: one of Saddam’s 

old airfi elds that was now occupied by a U.S. armored battalion and still had 

many abandoned buildings that looked like they had seen a war. When the 

An Iraqi 155mm High-Explosive (HE) howitzer round, 

like the ones in Adieb’s trunk. If you walked into the 

desert in Iraq and started digging there is a good 

chance you would find some buried howitzer rounds. 

Source: Author’s personal photo collection.

Gary cutting into Adieb’s trunk.

Source: Author.
| 173

Iraqis fl ed this base in an awful hurry, they did their best to trash everything 

they left behind. In the building to which we took Adieb there were smashed 

electronics, piles of papers and books in a wet slurry everywhere you stepped, 

and defecation. Th is might have been one of the best feats of coordination the 

Iraqi army pulled off against the U.S. forces. I could only imagine how they did 

it, but in every room and in every building on this base some Iraqi had left a 

special present for the Americans and in most cases it was more than one “present” per room. Of course by “present” I mean a ripe, stinking pile of feces. Th e 

small room we selected had only one “present.” Aft er all, we had to be in there 

too. We set up three chairs and cleared a little section in the debris for Adieb to 

sit/squat. Jay, Gary, and our interpreter, Samir, took their chairs. We marched 

Adieb in and took his hood off .

Th e men I worked with were outstanding professional soldiers. At 30 

years old I, the commander, was the youngest. I trusted all of them completely 

and never had a second thought about delegating any authority to them. We 

had found ourselves in many situations in Iraq for which we were not specifi -

cally trained. To accomplish the mission we improvised or adapted. So, when 

we found ourselves with more and more detainees and no way to question 

them, we naturally assumed the mission. Although we hadn’t been trained in 

interrogations, or been given the mission to specifi cally conduct them, interrogations just became an essential aspect of our operational cycle, which looked 

like this:

(1) Gather information about a target;

(2) Interdict the target;

(3) Develop information from the interdiction (question the detainee);

(4) Look to identify new targets from information provided by the 

detainee.

It was cyclical, and if you took any one of those pieces out then it was back to 

square one. 

For a number of reasons I was the most involved in the interrogations 

phase. I think I had a desire almost to micromanage this aspect of the operation because I thought it was the most pivotal to “keeping the ball rolling.” 

I was both fascinated with the machinations of questioning detainees and 

concerned. As much as I trusted the other members of the detachment, and 

could never imagine one of them abusing someone in custody, I wanted to 

be sure. I made sure that even if I was not in the room I was right outside 

the room where an interrogation was ongoing. At the time I was not consciously making this choice, and was passing off my continuous presence 
174 |

under the guise of “the importance of intelligence collection.” However, in 

hindsight, I believe there were some subconscious reasons for my persistent 

involvement.

None of this was in my head as I stood in the dark outside the room where 

Gary and Jay were questioning Adieb. Th e light from that room was providing 

some illumination, but there were only two Dewalt fl ashlights in the room, casting ghastly shadows among the debris and the faces of the players. I would like 

to say that we had set this stage like Wes Craven and that we were masterful 

interrogators; however, that simply isn’t true. We stumbled through interrogations. We would conduct them in whatever room we could fi nd and clean up 

the room as much as we thought needed to present the desired environment. 

Th at environment was usually agreed upon fi ve minutes prior to starting and 

we kind of thought, “Yeah, OK, let’s try that.” Th e room Adieb was now in had 

the look of a place not of this earth, and not being of this earth it was meant to 

give the impression that this room was a diff erent place, a place where rules and 

laws did not exist. Th e eff ect on Adieb would attest to that.

“What’s your name?” shouted Gary.

“Shooismak?” shouted Samir.

Adieb mumbled, “Adieb.”

“Adieb, what?” Gary persisted.

“Adieb, shinoo?” shouted Samir.

“Adieb Muhammed,” said Adieb as his eyes welled with tears.

And so it went, from Gary to Samir to Adieb back to Samir, back to 

Gary or sometimes Jay. Tedious, frustrating. Fift een minutes in and we had 

Adieb’s name, his occupation (taxi driver), and his father’s name. All the while 

Gary and Jay were trying to keep Adieb on his heels. Adieb’s crying was making it hard for Samir to translate. Gary and Jay became so frustrated that they 

skipped the normal protocol of getting all the background information fi rst, 

and they went right for the meat. I was OK with this, as we had all agreed that 

we needed to take advantage of Adieb’s current emotional state and couldn’t 

allow him to get his feet under him. If he did, he could possibly start employing resistance techniques that would cripple anything we amateurs could 

throw at him.

“What were you doing with all the explosives?” Gary would yell.

Th e translation would come back “I fi sh.”
| 175

Jay would jump up, making a show of anger, disgust, and frustration.

“You have to help us here, Adieb,” Gary would say, trying to reassure 

Adieb. “Guys with that many bombs go to Abu Ghraib or GTMO. I will have no 

choice but to send you there.”

“I fi sh...,” Adieb would try and respond.

Back and forth Jay and Gary went with Adieb. By now the room was a 

real sty. Th e yelling and four bodies packed into the small area raised the temperature at least 10 degrees. Jay’s constant up and down kicked up a bunch of 

slop on the ground and dispersed particles in the air. I could see the environment was taking its toll on Jay, Gary, and especially Samir. Adieb was even 

more fragile now than when we started and he appeared to be at the brink 

of “breaking.” I called Jay, Gary, and Samir out of the room. I told Samir to 

tell Adieb that his chance to cooperate had passed and that we would be back 

shortly. While Samir translated, I gave Adieb the most mischievous smile I 

could muster. He appeared unfazed. I took one of the fl ashlights and gave it 

to Jay and Samir. Gary put in a dip of tobacco and I lit a cigarette outside of 

the room to keep an eye on Adieb, while Jay and Samir got some water and 

fresh air. I wanted our whispers to let Adieb know we were close and that his 

future was uncertain. Gary and I talked about questions to bring up in the next 

round. Th e fi rst round had lasted all of 30 minutes and had exhausted the team. 

We didn’t think we could do another 30 minutes, and little did we know what 

a testament that was to our lack of understanding of interrogations. Aft er the 

cigarette, about fi ve to ten minutes, the team went back in. Th e three were all 

smiling and Gary started:

“We know you didn’t want to transport the explosives.” Th is was Gary just 

throwing out anything. Aft er Samir translated, Adieb just stared at the ground. 

“Ask him again, Samir,” Gary continued. Samir did, and still nothing.

“Hello,” Jay sang.

Nothing.

“Samir, ask him anything,” Gary ordered.

Samir rattled off a few phrases; nothing.

By now I am in the doorway observing.

“Tell him we know who gave him the artillery rounds.” Samir did and 

Adieb did not move, did not blink, nothing. Jay moved in close and pushed his 

fi ngers into the air in front of Adieb’s shoulder in a way to gesture to me, “Is it 

OK to touch him?” I quickly nodded my head approvingly. Jay placed two fi n-
176 |

gertips just below Adieb’s clavicle and gently pushed him. Adieb rocked slightly 

and continued to sit slumped on the fl oor staring at what we could only guess. 

Samir told him to stand up and Adieb unsurprisingly didn’t move. Gary and Jay 

got on either side of him and lift ed him up. Adieb was as lifeless as is humanly 

possible. Until now I was sure this was all an act. I was now faced with this 

either being an Oscar-winning performance or something “short-circuited” in 

this guy.

“Jay, treat him,” I said.

Jay is also a trained medic and a very profi cient one at that.

“Well, sir, we really need to get him outta here,” Jay suggested.

“OK, let’s move him.” Th e four of us struggled to get him out of the room, 

down the hall, and into the cool night air. Each one of us was visibly refreshed 

when we exited the decrepit building—all of us except Adieb. I called over Cory, 

the highest-ranking non-commissioned offi cer (NCO), and Andy, the other 

medic. Andy and Jay both instantly assessed that the best thing we could probably do for the detainee was give him intravenous (IV) fl uids. Th at sounded 

great, as I thought about having the guy that was just interrogating the prisoner 

now shoving needles in his arm. A prisoner who cannot understand “stand up” 

would now be asked to understand “My name is Jay. I am an American medical 

professional. I am going to give you fl uids through an artery in your arm. I am 

doing this to help you and this will in no way harm you. Th ese are just normal 

fl uids and no drugs or medication will be pumped into your system.” We all 

knew that this guy needed medical help and I instructed the guys to load Adieb 

back onto one of the vehicles. Th e Army medical station was a few hundred 

meters away and it would be best for Adieb to be seen by someone not affi liated 

with the detachment. When we carried Adieb in, the reaction on the faces of the 

staff was unremarkable.

“So, what’s with this guy?” the fi rst medic asked.

“You got me,” Jay artfully explained.

Th ere were now a few medics gathered around Adieb, who was lying on 

a gurney and staring at the ceiling. I fi nally broke up a long discussion of what 

to do.

“I don’t care what you do, but I know one thing... he’s freaking catatonic.”

Adieb spent the night in U.S. care and in his own cell of the armored battalion’s austere detention facility. We spent the night typing up reports and trying to make a strong packet that would lock Adieb up for a while. Th e next day 
| 177

he was processed up to Division level and we never heard a thing. Adieb could 

have been back on the street in a week, making up for the bombs he lost, or he 

could still be in an Iraqi jail.

Th ere was never an investigation into our interrogation of Adieb or into 

what made him absolutely shut down. As much as I didn’t fear an investigation, 

I didn’t expect one either. I didn’t expect anyone from higher headquarters to 

ask questions, just as I knew that as soon as a detainee left my custody he was 

out of my hands. I would never know if a terrorist I captured provided strategic-level actionable intelligence or was released the next day. My assumption 

is that most of the enemies I captured only had intelligence that would have 

been valuable to me. Without any training in interrogations, I was incapable 

of getting that information, and the trained interrogators, positioned up the 

chain of command, who were capable, were only asking one question: “Where 

is Saddam?”

Th e Accident

I carried the memories of Adieb with me, wanting to do better. I was 

determined not to make the same mistakes with Hadr. Even though I had forgotten about Hadr and he was now probably suff ering from the very early stages 

of hypothermia in the back of our HMMWV (“Humvee”), I thought about all 

we had done wrong with Adieb and yet I still knew we could eff ectively question Hadr.

Hadr was an accident in every aspect. On a cold and rainy night in the 

desert we all put on our “business suits” and went to work with the zeal of an 

insurance salesman who goes to a seminar on a sunny spring day in the country. 

We had been planning to conduct this mission for a while and had just got the 

word that the right mix of vehicles was outside Ali Saloom’s house. I would have 

loved to have waited for a warmer, drier night but we knew this might be our 

only opportunity. So, with four HMMWVs, each with open cargo areas and no 

doors or windows, we started our short movement to Saloom’s house.
178 |

We had done so many of these missions by now they were part of our 

muscle memory. We all knew our jobs; talking and emotions were kept to a 

minimum. I have heard of some units listening to heavy metal music on the 

way to their objective or holding football-style motivation huddles. Th is simply 

wasn’t us.

I drove through the front gate. Bravo Team moved in fi rst and secured 

the courtyard. Alpha teams moved directly to the front door and entered the 

house. Whether it was a mansion in Samarra or a shack in Baghdad, if it was 

in a city, it had a gate, a courtyard, and a front door close by. Tonight we had 

another detachment paying us back for some support we had lent them. Th ey 

were providing an outer cordon to ensure no one who was on the objective 

could get out or squirt away. We called these people “squirters.” Th ey also made 

sure no one outside the objective area got in. We called these people “suicide 

bombers.”

From the moment we breached the gate until we had the entire area 

secure was under fi ve minutes. Th e objective consisted of a three-room, singlestory “living area” and an unattached shed. Th e rain had turned the streets into 

a milkshake-like slop that only slightly hardened from the street to the front 

door and into the house. Th e typical Iraqi would wear slip-off shoes or sandals 

and bear the slop in the street for the ease of slipping off his shoes when he 

walked into his “house.” Th e average American wore the rugged desert combat 

The author preparing to go on patrol with the standard 

SF “Gun Truck” configuration of the time. We preferred 

to be porcupines, with our barbs being our weapons 

poking out in every direction, as opposed to turtles. The 

development of advanced IEDs in Iraq has made moving 

in this configuration no longer viable.

Source: Author.
| 179

boot. Th ese boots are great defense against dry or wet desert conditions, but 

the boots and the missions are not conducive to checking your footwear at the 

door. Th erefore, we were always bringing this dripping muddy milkshake with 

us into all the homes. Given that the Iraqis both eat and sleep on the fl oor, they 

must have found our muddy boots infuriating, although not one Iraqi, whether 

I was in his house to arrest him or reward him, ever mentioned the fi lth I was 

leaving behind.

Th e squalor of Saloom’s house started in the street and came right in the 

front door. It was unclear where the dirt ended and where the fl oor began. On 

this same dirt fl oor, seconds ago, everyone in the house had their two-inchthick foam sleeping mats sprawled over. Everything was orange – the fl oors, the 

walls, the ceiling. It all seemed to be made from what looked like the same earth. 

Th ere were no paintings or pictures on the walls and there were no windows. 

One room had a cord hanging from the ceiling with a single light bulb. Th e 

other room was lit with a large fl ashlight. Th e lighting and barren earthen walls 

cast ominous shadows. Th e fl oor heater made the place reek and unbearably 

hot, especially compared to the cold night. Th e icy wet night air was a welcome 

escape from the heat, dirt, mud, and people in the structure. Th ere was only one 

man at the house (there should have been more), two women, and three children. Th e man was not Saloom, our target, but some guy we had never seen or 

heard of before. His name was Hadr.

My frustration at missing Saloom was quickly quelled when Samir showed 

me the gym bag he found. Th e bag was black with white stripes and made of 

hard fake leather. It almost looked like a bowling ball bag, and it was full of dirty 

laundry, thankfully. Inside were scraps of paper of all sorts with handwritten 

notes on them. Samir held one up and said, “Sir, this one says ‘5 RPG = 2,000 

Dinar’; this one says ‘to Abu, 20 AK-47, 20 120mm rockets, 3 mortars’; this 

one is his master price list for explosives.” As I peered through the bag I asked 

him if there was anything else. He said just one thing, “Th is was on top,” and he 

handed me a photo ID of Ali Saloom. To date we had no picture of Saloom or 

any confi rmation that he lived in this house. We also had no evidence to show 

culpability for the shady business in which Saloom dealt. Of course, this bag 

would have been much sweeter if Saloom had been sitting a few feet away with 

an empty sandbag over his head and his hands in a pair of fl ex-cuff s.

Aft er combing through the rest of the house, we left with our bag of evidence and some guy named Hadr. We hoped we would be getting something 

out of him shortly. Nevertheless, at that point I wasn’t thinking about Hadr’s 

upcoming interrogation. I was more worried about making sure we had everybody we came with and that there was a big sewage hole that Jonah had stepped 

in and I wanted to avoid. Just as I stepped shin-high in a hole of sludge, Cory 

called me over to his vehicle with Samir and an Iraqi policeman. 
180 |

“Sir, this guy says he knows where Saloom is... right now,” exclaimed 

Cory.

“Wait, what? How? Who?” I questioned.

It turns out that the same lineup of vehicles in front of Saloom’s house 

meant that he would go to a farmhouse out in the desert and pick up a shipment 

of arms to be sent out with the day’s highest bidder. Th ere was still a lot about 

Saloom we were fi guring out. All we really knew at this point was that he was 

bad. It was theorized that since Saloom was not there he must be at this farmhouse, and he couldn’t even know we were hot on his trail. He would certainly 

be hip to that in a few hours.

“Where is this farmhouse?” I asked.

“Well, he says you have to go out of town, then at the place the goats cross 

you turn left . Th ere is not really a road there; you just turn off the paved road 

into the desert. Th en aft er you drive west for about a mile you will hit a dirt 

road, go right, and once you pass the house that is covered over and looks like 

a mound of sand...”

“OK, tell him he is coming with us and he better know where this place 

is,” I ordered. “Cory, pass the word to the boys, we just got a change to the mission. I will call higher and let them know. We should be ready to roll in fi ve 

minutes.”

Five minutes later we were heading to fi nd a real bad dude, a middle-level 

fi nancier who never gets his hands dirty. Now, not only were we going to catch 

him in the act, but we also had a bunch of receipts with his name on them, in presumably his handwriting. If we were really lucky we might even catch him with a 

weapon in his hand and therefore be able to dispatch him more effi ciently under 

the rules of engagement. Th is incessant capturing of bad guys and their tactic of 

dropping their weapons and surrendering was utterly frustrating. In direct opposition to the conventional wisdom, killing a terrorist was much cleaner than capturing one. Th e night had gotten colder, and there wasn’t one member of our 

team whose boots and pants weren’t caked in thick, goopy mud from the Iraqi 

street. Th ere was still a light mist falling. However, our spirits were lift ed with 

the extension of our mission; we were off the playbook a little and it heightened 

everyone’s senses. We also really wanted to get this Saloom dirtball.

It always felt good to me to leave the close confi nes of the city. I would 

constantly have to go between having my night vision goggles on to see down 

a street and having them “wash out” under a street light. Th is night, heading 

out of a city to do a mission was a welcome change. It was past curfew and 

there were no cars or people. Th e busy highway on the north side of town was 
| 181

eerily empty. Suddenly we got an “I think we turn here” from our Iraqi policeman who “knew exactly where the farmhouse was.” Now the Detachment was 

really switched on. We were driving through the open desert, in the pitch black 

of night. Everyone was cold and wet and at any point we could be told that our 

objective was right beside us. Aft er a period of time that can only be described 

as “too long,” we were all wondering what we were doing or where we were 

going. Like when you know you should have turned around miles ago, but no 

one wants to give up all that you have invested in this wrong way.

Everyone’s patience was wearing thin as we covered what felt like every 

square inch of Iraqi desert. In my vehicle, the gunner standing in the middle 

and protruding from the roof to man the .50cal-mounted M-2 heavy machine 

gun stooped down from time to time to make eye contact with our Iraqi policeman. His stares summed up the atmosphere in our group. Our Iraqi policeman, 

I believe, could actually feel the stares of these “12 angry men” bearing down on 

him, when suddenly we heard “Stop, this is it.” Th e policeman was not convincing in his delivery.

“Th is is what?!” I said in my head a split second before yelling it into the 

night.

Beside us were two mounds of sand. Each looked the same as the other 

and like every other mound of sand in all Mesopotamia. However, upon further 

inspection these two were a little squared. While Cory, Gary, and I all gave the 

Iraqi policeman a piece of our mind for leading us on this wild goat chase, a 

few other guys broke out shovels and started digging away at this mound. Th e 

sound of the shovels hitting wood distracted us only slightly from making the 

policeman feel like the ass he was.

As it turned out, the guys digging found what used to be a window to 

a shed or house that was... completely empty. Our time in the desert tonight, 

measured in hours, all the ups and downs of emotions, from driving in the rain 

to raiding a house, to adding on a mission, to not knowing where we were, had 

taken its toll. “Alright, that’s freaking it. Everyone follow me. Let’s get back to 

the team house. Th is night is over.” I said the words in a crescendo that fell fl at 

at the end.

Cory and I looked over our GPS and reexamined the criss-cross route we 

had taken and picked the best way back to the main hardball road. Cory made 

sure everyone was ready to go while I jumped behind the driver’s seat of one of 

the trucks and rested my forehead against the steering wheel. Samir, who had 

been sitting on a plywood slat in the seat right behind me, touched me on the 

shoulder and asked, “Uh, sir, what about him?”

Without lift ing my head I questioned back, “Who?”
182 |

“Th e guy from Saloom’s house.”

“Who?!”

“Th at guy we grabbed from Saloom’s house. We were going to bring him 

right back and ask about the bag, but then the police guy took us out here, 

and... man, he seems pretty freaking cold, sir.”

My head was off the steering wheel now and the only two thoughts in my 

head were “Oh, yeah” and “Oh, shit.”

“Andy!” I yelled.

“Whoa, sir, what’s up?”

“Hey, remember that guy we grabbed from the fi rst house?”

“Him, oh yeah, sir, why, do we still... shit, do we still got’m?” Andy 

laughed, and then, realizing what he was saying, instantly switched on his medic 

hat.

Hadr looked like an Iraqi Tom Hanks—taller than your average Iraqi at 

close to six feet and probably weighing in around 175 pounds. He had no muscular defi nition and that was what kept him from looking like the cold night 

winds were freezing his bone marrow. He wore plastic sandals. One had fallen 

off when he was helped into the vehicle and he had somehow located it with 

his bound hands and placed it under his butt to keep him off the frigid metal 

truck fl oor. Th e other sandal was caked with the same mud that covered us all. 

His thin worn sweatpants were the warmest article of clothing he had on. His 

shirt looked like a homemade set of hospital scrubs, only with lighter material. 

Surprisingly for an Iraqi, he had no facial hair. Hadr was in his late twenties to 

early thirties.

“Ask him if he’s cold,” I said. And then to refute the looks I whispered, 

“Well, I know, but we have to at least ask.”

“Yyyyyes.” Hadr shivered.

I quickly fi red back with “Ask him why he hasn’t been talking!”

Th e question was born out of my disappointment with myself at forgetting 

about him. It was then manifested in frustration with Hadr for not telling anybody that he was freezing. Just as an Iraqi would never complain to the guys with 

guns who just rammed his front gate that he was perturbed they were tracking 

mud on his “bed,” Hadr would never have complained he was dangerously cold 

to his captors – again, not because he would be showing weakness, but because he 

feared something worse, something that happened to people all the time under 

Saddam’s rule. Th is also led to what he must have been thinking as we drove him, 
| 183

alone, out into the desert, broke out shovels, and started digging. I could only 

picture what games his own imagination was playing with him.

All these thoughts came rushing to my head. Meanwhile, somehow in 

the situation or translation it got lost that I was asking about him not reminding 

us he was still in the vehicle, and became why he wasn’t talking about Saloom’s 

operation. You could imagine our faces when the translation came back as a 

stream of information.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to talk. I am here visiting from Baghdad. 

I got here two days ago. I came in a Mazda van with some of Ali’s friends. I am 

his wife’s brother. Ali said he would have a job for me. He ran out the back just 

as you arrived. I think he went to a friend’s house near the pool hall. I would like 

to get married soon. Girls don’t seem to like me. I have a key to one of Ali’s taxis 

in my pocket you didn’t fi nd when you searched me....” 

It didn’t take long for me to realize how Hadr had interpreted the last few 

hours and how he interpreted my question. I told Hadr that was good and I 

hung an insulated fi eld jacket liner on his shoulders. We moved the policeman 

to the back, exposed part of the truck where Hadr was, and moved Hadr to the 

seat opposite Samir behind the front passenger’s seat.

On par for the course of the night, one of the vehicles got a fl at tire on 

the way back to the team house. I still wasn’t sure how to handle Hadr, so I just 

made sure he was safe and feeling better while we changed the tire. I made no 

attempt to question him, but I also did not tell him anything about where he 

was or what was going on. Additionally, I still had his hands bound and eyes 

covered. Aft er the tire change, the other team thanked us for a lovely evening, 

and split to get back to their own town. 

Our team house was a dark, quiet, welcoming sight. Th e small security 

element we had left behind knew we were coming and soon had the place lit up 

like a Christmas tree as we pulled around the serpentine and through the gates. 

Both trucks pulled right up to the front door. Each man dismounted, took a 

stretch, and looked at me. I pointed at Chris to stay with Hadr and motioned 

to the rest of the team with my head to move inside. Th ere was no talking, 

although no one was told to “shut up” or keep quiet. Simultaneously, we all 

tromped across the gravel drive, up the short steps, and past the metal doors. 

Like Saloom’s house, there was nothing on the walls and they had a heavy solid 

rock look to them. Our walls, however, were painted white and lacked the 

rough, bare, earthen tones of Saloom’s house. Th e fl uorescent lighting seemed a 

bit industrial to us for a home. Yet, it was far better than a single bulb dangling 

from the ceiling. In this front entryway we all gathered, standing or sitting on 

plastic chairs, still in full kit with the desert’s cold and rain visible on all of us. 
184 |

Aft er briefl y talking through the events of the night and thanking everyone for 

being safe, I brought up Hadr.

I wanted Hadr’s questioning to be diff erent. But that falsely suggests that I 

can be credited with the positive outcome of Hadr’s interrogation. I cannot. My 

fi rst concern was I wanted to get Hadr warmed up. I did not anticipate his physical warming to manifest itself in such positive ways. I selected Cory and Jonah 

to conduct the interview. Truth be told, I really wanted to handle it myself, but 

I knew that as the leader I couldn’t aff ord to tie myself to that. Cory was mature 

and not your typical kill’em all, A+ type, Green Beret, Johnny Rambo personality. Jonah, who would take the lead, was chosen because he was the most adaptable. As a communications sergeant he was not one of the best, but he was very 

aff able and had shown the ability to think constructively and improvise while 

still achieving the desired end state. 

Instead of using the intimidating, hollowed-out building that was the 

armored battalion’s holding area to question Hadr, as we had used with every 

other interrogation, I wanted to use our basement. Our basement was the most 

American room in the house. Th ere were wide stairs that curved down from the 

entryway to the basement. Th e walls down there were also painted a fl at white 

and the tile fl oor was shiny. Th e hardness of the fl oor and walls was made soft by 

the extremely large Persian rug that sprawled almost to each corner. Th e rug was 

mostly shades of blue and ivory. At the far end of the room was a large-screen 

TV with a local Iraqi satellite dish connection, DVD, and Sony Playstation II. 

Th e TV was surrounded by one soft , winding sectional and another matching 

full couch. In the middle was a mirrored coff ee table. Continuing back toward 

the stairs and directly behind the sectional was a large table with six comfortable chairs. Th ere were remnants of a poker game that had been conducted 

there nights before. At the base of the stairs were a treadmill, elliptical machine, 

and Bowfl ex.

 I had one of the other interpreters put on a brew of Iraqi tea and assemble 

some snacks. I grabbed an extra blanket while Cory, Jonah, and Samir grabbed 

paper, pens, and sterilized maps. Th ey began to discuss their plan for talking to 

Hadr. Th en, I went outside and had Chris guide Hadr inside, down the stairs, 

and onto a seat at the end of the couch. Once he was seated Chris removed the 

sandbag that was still on his head. As the sandbag came off the blanket went 

right over his shoulders. Not that I wanted or needed it back, but because I 

wanted to see his reaction, I asked Hadr if I could have my jacket liner back. I 

told him it was my only one and that I was very cold. As we all had hoped and 

expected, Hadr thanked me profusely for it and touched his heart as he handed 

it to me. I said nothing, smiled, and took a seat at the back of the room so that I 

could hear, but Hadr would not know that I was still in the room.
| 185

 Besides the feel of the 

warm blanket, Hadr also had 

in front of him two trays, one 

with little pickles and olives, and 

the other with an assortment of 

nuts. Th ere was also an ashtray 

and a pack of my favorite local 

cigarette, Pine Lights. We did not 

leave a lighter there so that Hadr 

would have to ask for one. Jonah 

had been given my prized golden 

Saddam lighter I had taken off 

Saddam’s fi rst cousin when we 

captured him. Hadr went right 

past the food and took a cigarette. Jonah was right there with 

the light and Hadr reached in 

and touched Jonah’s hand when 

he off ered the fl ame. On the opposing couch sat Cory and Jonah. Samir sat right 

next to Hadr. Th ough it took a while for Hadr to fi gure out, he learned that it 

was better to give his attention to Jonah on the couch to his right than constantly 

shift his body between Jonah on his right front and Samir on his back left . 

Five minutes later, when the tea was brought down, Jonah had yet to ask 

a question. Hadr had been talking nonstop about how he got to Saloom’s house. 

Without being asked, Hadr was going into important details that were so hard 

to uncover in an interrogation. Hadr talked about the man that Saloom had put 

him in touch with to get to his house, where in Baghdad they met, who the other 

men in the van were, that he was pretty sure they were all involved in anti-coalition activity, and that two of the guys in the van had tried to keep quiet but he 

still thought they wanted everyone else to hear that they were having a conversation about how to hide IEDs along roads. On and on Hadr went. Th is was all 

excellent stuff , but (1) it was not actionable. It was good stuff to know for people 

responsible for Hadr’s neighborhood, but not for us, and (2) it all came back to 

Saloom as the central fi gure whom Hadr had yet to volunteer any information 

about. It was almost an hour into Hadr’s ranting before Jonah interrupted him 

in mid-sentence. Jonah hated to stop a detainee from talking but he had to get a 

question in somewhere. Given the tone so far he didn’t mince words.

“Can you tell me about Saloom? What is his business? Where does he 

hang out? Do you know those sorts of things?”
186 |

Hadr went quiet, and took a deep breath. Later we all admitted that we 

thought “Oh, no!”—that asking Hadr to betray a specifi c older relative was too 

much of an off ense. He threw down a mouthful of nuts, fi nished his tea, and 

put out his cigarette. Th e smile on Samir’s face foretold of something substantial coming in the following translation. Hadr continued with information on 

Saloom, or Ali, as Hadr called him, just as in-depth as he had before. We did 

not call anyone “Ali” or “Muhammad” whenever possible. Ali is the equivalent 

of John, James, Michael, Joe, Bill, and Chris all rolled up into one.

First Hadr said he lied to us about Saloom. He said that Saloom was not 

at any “friend’s house near a pool hall.” He admitted to saying that he wanted 

us to believe he knew exactly where Saloom was so that we would let him go 

and he could fi nd a place to get warm. However, if he had to guess—and this is 

why Samir was smiling—Saloom was probably making his way to a farmhouse 

where he kept his stash of weapons. In fact, Saloom had taken Hadr and two 

other men out to the farmhouse earlier that day.

“So, you know where the farmhouse is?” questioned Jonah.

“Exactly,” responded Hadr.

“Can you show us on this map?” Jonah asked, plopping down a rather 

large map of the area.

Aft er Hadr took it and turned it 720 degrees, folded it a few times, and made 

faces of excitement followed by looks of uncertainty, he handed the map back to 

Jonah and proclaimed, “I can’t read maps.” Jonah, with the help of Samir, painstakingly talked Hadr through the map. “Th is is the house were you where captured. Th is 

is the one main north/south road; here is the river, etc.” Hadr’s only response was, “I 

don’t understand.” As we all scratched our heads for a second, Hadr broke the silence. 

Samir’s second big smile of the night had all of us grinning before we even received the 

translation. “He says, ‘Why doesn’t he just show you where it is? Th at way he can also 

show you Saloom’s hangouts and where they all have been going the past few days.’”

So, aft er hearing from Hadr that Saloom was a known weapons dealer, a 

fact that we knew and now had a mound of evidence to prove, we tried to end 

the evening/early morning. A few hours ago we had switched from tea to Red 

Bull and Hadr insisted that he try some. Hadr loved the stuff and had just fi nished his third bottle when Jonah tried to close the conversation. It took another 

45 minutes to get Hadr to shut up about whom Saloom was meeting with and 

about people in his neighborhood in Baghdad.

We coordinated with the armored battalion to give Hadr his own cell and to 

treat him like a VIP. We liked Hadr, but his information had not yet been validated, 

although the bit about the farmhouse served as temporary bona fi des. I still wasn’t 
| 187

going to let him sleep in my secured house. I gave him a fresh pack of cigarettes, told 

him to get some sleep, and that we would be back to get him in a few hours. Aft er the 

sun was up and our reports were “good enough,” we all climbed onto our two-inchthick sleeping mats—the same type we had stomped on in Saloom’s house and pulled 

Hadr off of. Th ey were probably bought at the same shop in town. Ours, instead of 

being on the fl oor, were on individual sleeping units made from framing lumber and 

plywood, which had a desk and closet built into them. Home, sweet home. 

Just Browsing

Th at aft ernoon, aft er a few hours of sleep, we gathered our gear and prepared 

for our CTR (close target recon), of a pool hall, mosque, truck stop, two houses of 

Saloom’s associates, and the infamous farmhouse. Rolling past any of these places 

in a couple of HMMWVs was no problem, as U.S. vehicles were constantly rolling 

through the busy town. However the farmhouse posed a problem. A U.S. military 

vehicle, coincidentally driving past a random farmhouse in the middle of the desert that just happens to be a large weapons cache, would probably tip off whoever 

was living there. Th en there was the fact that we didn’t know what or who was 

there, how well it was defended, or what the likely course of action would be if two 

highly armored vehicles started making their way across wide-open terrain with 12 

men on board who didn’t give the impression that they were “just browsing.” 

Left: The author 

with “Bad Day.” 

Source: Author.
188 |

At our house we kept a few vehicles covered and hidden in the back for just 

such situations. Th e plan was that all 6’4” of my blond-haired, blue-eyed, Aryan 

frame would try and dress like an Iraqi and drive the van with Samir in the passenger seat. Samir is a native Iraqi whose family moved to Dearborn, Michigan, 

aft er the fi rst Gulf War. He looks and acts young, speaks Arabic with a Baghdadi accent and, more importantly, also speaks excellent English. Under our Iraqi 

clothes we both had on body armor. My rifl e was on the fl oor by my side, I had 

a pistol in a concealed holster on my waist, and my favorite, “Bad Day,” was on 

my lap. Bad Day was a 14-inch, sawed-off , Remington 870 Wingmaster 12-gauge 

shotgun with Pachmayr grips. Th e weapon was given to us as a breaching tool to 

disable locks. On this day, Bad Day would be a great intimidator for anyone who 

might want to get a closer look at this weird-looking Iraqi behind the wheel. It was 

also a tool that could be brought to bear quickly in a tight situation. I called it “Bad 

Day” not only because anyone on the receiving end was going to have a bad day, 

but also because if you are using a 14-inch shotgun to defend yourself in Iraq, rest 

assured that you too are having a very bad day.

In the back of the van, which had curtains over the windows, were Jonah 

and Hadr. Jonah was in his uniform and full kit. His primary job was to be in constant communication with the two fully-loaded gun trucks that would be shadowing our every move 10 to 30 seconds away. Jonah was also sniper-qualifi ed and the 

best shooter on our team. I wasn’t sure what would happen to Hadr if things went 

bad but I knew the rest of us would be fi ne. Well, maybe I mean that Jonah and I 

would make it until the rest of the team arrived. Actually, Jonah was the only one 

who stood any real chance of putting up a fi ght and surviving if we got hit.

Who is that masked man? The author preparing to 

conduct the CTR with covered windows and “Bad Day.” 

Source: Author.
| 189

 Th e recon went smoothly. We quickly moved through the city and the 

skills I learned driving on the streets of New Jersey came in handy. Th e hairiest part, without exception, was the farmhouse. During that phase we were the 

farthest from the supporting gun trucks we had been all day, but the terrain was 

wide open and they could have engaged from a much greater distance. Th e two 

cancelled each other out. Th at didn’t make me feel any safer, though. Luckily, 

we were in the van because the ramshackle road brought us way too close to 

Saloom’s farmhouse, which was abuzz with activity. We saw their guns before 

Hadr positively identifi ed the house, and my jaw tightened as the road kept taking us closer and closer. It appeared for an uncomfortable while that we were 

not on a road but on a driveway and would not be able to turn around before 

the men at the farmhouse realized that an American had just driven up to their 

front door... alone. Luckily the road, and our van, turned just as one man started 

to make his way down to the road to intercept the incoming van.

 Th e tires started to spin in the mud about 50 meters from a hardball 

road. Th e only path leading us back was through a small collection of a dozen 

houses. For a few precarious seconds I switched the transmission from reverse 

to forward, trying to rock the van over a slippery bump of mud. Th e van was 

sliding perpendicular to the road like a pendulum. Although they were now 

well in the distance, men from the farmhouse were still watching us. Forget 

about a U.S. vehicle; any vehicle on those roads was cause for suspicion. Jonah 

and I were hesitant to call for support. We couldn’t have the vehicle that had just 

driven past the farmhouse be seen with U.S. Army vehicles. To make matters 

worse, a few of the locals who lived in the house 20 meters in front of us started 

to approach our vehicles. I was seconds away from giving Jonah the order to 

call up the trucks and stick Bad Day out the window at the inquisitive Iraqis 

when the wheels gained traction. I was able to turn the van so that the villagers got a better look at Samir than at me. Less than 60 seconds later we had the 

gun trucks in sight and they were escorting us from a distance back to the team 

house.

It was time to say farewell to Hadr. We had recorded all the information 

he provided and were already putting him in touch with other teams closer to 

his home. Reportedly, Saloom had already skipped town. UAV overfl ights of the 

farmhouse the next couple of days revealed no movement at all. We could only 

sit on Saloom’s target packet and hope we hadn’t scared him off for good. If he 

was as dumb as we hoped, he would be back in a few weeks. 

Going on faith and gut that Hadr had not been an incredible storyteller, 

we handed him some traveling money and sent him on his way. Hadr was eventually contacted by a team in Baghdad, aft er we insisted he was a good source of 
190 |

information. Hadr would later provide crucial information on the bombing of 

the UN building in Baghdad.

Twelve Angry Men

A few weeks later, we executed the plan to raid the farmhouse. We still 

had not yet moved on Saloom and we had no intelligence to indicate he had 

moved back to the area. Th e plan was simple but the timing critical. When raiding a house in the city, you can use the daily presence of HMMWVs as cover. 

Any convoy of HMMWVs looks just like the next. Add in the fact many of our 

targets lived minutes, if not seconds, from our front gate and the enemy had 

little to no time to react when the routine patrol was suddenly coming through 

their front door. Th e farmhouse was diff erent in that patrols were extremely rare 

out there. Additionally, the approach to the farmhouse was exposed for over a 

mile. Th e obvious solution was to go in the dark to mask our approach. However, since we anticipated a lengthy search of the surrounding area for buried 

weapons, it would be advantageous for us to have some light. 

Tactically, the farmhouse would be our easiest raid yet. Not only could 

they see us on the approach but we could also observe them and there was no 

chance of someone slipping out of the objective and into the clamor of the city. 

If needed, we could use our superior fi repower to engage the enemy from a 

greater distance and we wouldn’t have to worry about adjacent friendly buildings or teenagers with automatic weapons popping up around walls and on 

rooft ops. Finally, the open terrain also allowed us to secure the objective from 

farther away, which meant we could physically see everyone in both the group 

that would be going into the structures and the group providing the outer cordon. As commander, this was the most satisfying aspect as it greatly reduced 

the risk of fratricide.

Although it caused some initial grumbling, everyone knew that a sunrise 

raid would be the only way to make everything work. For a week, we logged the 

time in the morning one could just begin to see. Th ose few minutes between 

ambient light and actual sunrise would be our golden time. Th is data could be 

found in Army operations orders and online. It is called Beginning of Morning 

Nautical Twilight, or BMNT. We knew it is better to actually know the time for 

ourselves and see the conditions on the ground than to blindly use a set time 

given to us.

We departed our team house with a platoon of infantrymen in the pitch 

black of early morning. Th e moon was already down and absolute darkness was 

something we all embraced. I reassured myself that the HMMWVs would not 

be too loud because everyone on the objective had to be asleep. 

Just as I slammed the HMMWV into “park” and stepped onto the farm 

there was enough light beginning to fi ll the air that I could see the fi rst stack of 

guys from the team fi ling into the main house. On the objective there were what 
| 191

appeared to be two semi-attached living quarters, a barn with attached goat stable, a dilapidated shed, and an unidentifi ed shed/building off to the side. I was 

standing directly in front of the latter watching the team and ensuring the cordon was in its correct position, as I could see them now without my night vision 

goggles. My HMMWV with the gunner still manning the .50 cal machine gun 

was over my right shoulder. Suddenly, a full-grown adult male was standing in 

the doorway of this smaller, unremarkable building. Th en another and another. 

I found myself suddenly and very unexpectedly having six fi ghting-age males 

20 feet in front of me with the majority of my team in the process of going room 

to room in the house 50 feet away. Th e .50 cal machine gun, even though it 

would have burst my eardrums and possibly knocked me unconscious from the 

overpressure since I was directly in front of and below the barrel, was the only 

thing that allowed me to keep my cool. I was able to get on the radio quickly 

and the team shift ed to my location as the last two men were coming out of the 

small single-room structure.

The farmhouse with six of the eight men who surprised me from the 

building to their front. The four soldiers on the left side of the photo 

are infantrymen from the cordon element. The Toyota Hilux truck in the 

back belonged to the detachment. It was used as an auxiliary truck and 

would be sandwiched between two real trucks with guns on them during 

movement.

Source: Author.
192 |

In the farmhouse, we found the head of the house, who was a big man in 

his 60s, one of his sons who wasn’t yet 20, and his two wives. In the other building were eight men, none of them related to the family who owned the farm, 

as some of them claimed, and all from Baghdad. We immediately separated 

everyone and began the interrogations right on the objective. Again, this was 

possible only because of the unique terrain of the farmhouse. Typically we did 

not like to hang out in one area for too long because any raid broadcasts your 

position and allows anyone the opportunity to take some shots at you, knowing 

it would be diffi cult for us to break off and pursue them. Anyone feeling bold 

could also quickly organize an attack on our hasty position. Th e farmhouse was 

diff erent in that we could see anyone approaching, as the sun was already up. I 

made sure we had 360 degrees of security and we got to the business of breaking out metal detectors to look for weapons while also trying to fi gure out who 

everyone was.

We fi rst talked separately to the two women. Th ey both independently 

gave us the same history of the farm and confi rmed the name and age of their 

husband and youngest son. When it came to the other eight men, each woman 

gave an entirely diff erent story for each one of them. Th e farm owner gave a different story and each one of the men gave a diff erent name and reason for being 

Two of the other suspicious men at the farmhouse digging. We are having 

them dig up some freshly covered ground. Note the random hole. Most 

likely this is a site that was recently dug up and not filled in. Samir is at 

left (yes, with a Red Bull). Detachment members are providing security. 

Source: Author.
| 193

at the farm. I was instantly happy that we had moved to segregate all of them so 

quickly, something we had not always been able to do in the past.

It became instantly clear that this was a safe house. Th e location of the 

farmhouse off ered open access to the desert and possible training facilities. It 

also had direct access to the major north-south highway in the country. In an 

interesting paradox, we found no weapons. Th ere were two rather fresh graves 

allegedly for the parents of the owner of the house, the man in his 60s. Th e 

graves just seemed out of place and, as much as I was tempted, I just couldn’t 

give the order to dig up a grave. Plus, I had obviously found something nefarious with all these unrelated 20-something males. 

Th e problem was that weapons are direct, and concrete. Having 8 or 20 

males with suspicious stories was still just circumstantial. If weapons are found 

it’s a closed case. You cannot, nor do you need to, interrogate a pile of explosives. 

I would argue that a pile of fi ghters is more incriminating than a pile of weapons. Any Iraqi can get a pile of weapons and we caught many. However, our 

mission was to go aft er the mid- to high-level facilitators of the insurgency. (At 

the time we—SF—were the only ones calling it an “insurgency.”) Th e situation 

at the farmhouse was one of two possible scenarios. One was that the man who 

ran the house was a low- to mid-level operative who was part of a much larger 

network of insurgents. Th e other was that there was no network, which would 

have meant the owner of the farm established everything and therefore was in 

the mid- to possibly high-level category.

Unfortunately, we never found out. Due to our austere capabilities we 

could really only take the owner and four of the strange men. Th e ones who 

had displayed the most advanced capability to resist questioning were chosen, 

and we moved them back to our team house to see what else we could extract 

from them.

Maybe it was because we could not instill shock or fear as we had unintentionally with Hadr, or because they were more loyal to their cause or felt they 

risked more by talking to us, but none of them incriminated himself or anyone 

else. Each man was assigned a lengthy packet detailing the events leading to his 

capture, and we sent them off to the division holding area. I never heard back 

as to their fate. Th is section, which started with a lookout for an arms trader in 

the local market, who identifi ed a combination of cars that would be parked in 

front of Saloom’s house when a deal was about to go down, which led to Hadr, 

and then to the farmhouse, had come to an end. Unless we could get our hands 

on Saloom.
194 |

From Small Talk to Policy, or How I Finally Received 

Interrogation Training

Th e following month, all the Special Forces detachments in the area got 

together for a rare meeting. Due to so many variables such meetings almost 

never took place. Th is meeting was called because the commanding general was 

fl ying in from Fort Bragg to talk and pat us on the back. Th e meeting was very 

informal; each detachment gave a prepared fi ve- to ten-minute spiel on current 

operations and an assessment of its sector.

In keeping with the laid-back nature of the meeting, the general held a 

huddle out front before he departed. As generals usually do, or I should say as 

good generals usually do, he asked us what we needed, what he could do for us. 

A salty old veteran was the fi rst to announce that the grain of our “green 

tip” 5.56mm rifl e ammunition was too high. In engagements under 100m (I 

would say 97% of them), the rounds would be traveling too fast and just smoke 

right through the enemy. Th e sergeant gave an informative, technically competent dissertation on ballistics and the need for a lower grain round.

“Good, good stuff ,” the general said. “Make sure you got all of that,” he said 

to his aide. Next, a younger guy, in a clumsy attempt to be heard, announced 

that “we needed more intel support.” He then went on to fail spectacularly when 

pushed for specifi cs. Th e general was about to leave when he looked toward me 

Members of the Detachment processing detainees from the farmhouse at 

the Armored Battalion’s holding facility.

Source: Author.
| 195

and I blurted out, “Interrogation support.” With a raised inquisitive eyebrow, 

the general asked me to elaborate. 

“Well, sir,” I said, “everything I know about interrogations I learned at 

SERE* school.” (*Editor’s Note: Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape, a 

course taught by the U.S. Air Force at Fairchild AFB, Washington) Th e expression on his face told me I probably could have stopped there, but the nods of 

my peers encouraged me to continue. I extrapolated on this and, although we 

all knew it, I had to state the obvious. I had not learned a thing about interrogations at SERE school. What I was trying to point out is that we were not 

instructed in any way to conduct interrogations or questioning. In fact, the only 

way we had ever been a party to any interrogation was to our own, and in ways 

that were not meant to extract intelligence from us. SERE, aft er all, was training and we didn’t even have any real intelligence to off er in the SERE scenario. 

Without getting into too much detail, SERE is meant to induce stress so one can 

realize how he might react when faced with capture. Th erefore, SERE tactics are 

in direct opposition to actual intelligence interrogations, tactical questioning, 

or debriefi ng.

As we all had brought up in each of our fi ve-minute spiels, interrogations played an important part in our operational cycle. However, none of us 

discussed that we were fumbling through it and it would be nice if we could get 

some people in here to support us. Additionally, we all agreed that all Special 

Forces soldiers need training in interrogations before coming to Iraq, probably 

during the units’ Pre-Mission Training (PMT). I could tell as I laid this all out in 

a very ad hoc manner that the general understood what I was trying to say.

His last words as he left assured us that we would get the interrogation 

support in combat and in training. We never saw any lower grain 5.56 rounds. 

However, when I was holding Saloom’s ID card up to his face in the back of my 

vehicle on a warm night a few days later, I was excited at the prospect of having 

him questioned by a member of a Mobile Interrogation Team (MIT). I don’t 

know where the MITs came from or how we got connected with them so fast, 

but when the decision was made to go for Saloom again, we made sure to have 

a MIT available. 

Saloom went down like clockwork; aft er all, we had already taken down 

his house once before. Four weeks later, almost to the night, I was driving the 

HMMWV back through his front gate. Inside his house were two women, two 

children, and one man. Th e man, who looked just like Saloom, gave us some 

weird name. Even with us holding his ID card right next to his face, he would 

not admit he was Ali Saloom. Aft er he was cuff ed and driven onto the Armored 

Battalion’s base and right before we handed him over to the MIT, he fi nally 

admitted what was obvious to all of us: he was our Saloom.
196 |

It was so good to hear him say it. Even this tiniest of victories felt good. I 

knew without a doubt that this was him. It was frustrating to hear him use the 

same lame excuses and ridiculous lies and alibis as all the other detainees had 

used. What was more off ensive was that Saloom tried to deny who he was with 

his ID card right in front of him. It felt good to get this man, whom I was hunting for months, to make the smallest of admissions—the man whose name I 

had typed into countless reports, the man whom I had arrested and had talked 

to his family and friends about. It was good to know that he knew that I got 

him and that if he would admit his true name he might admit more. Th e best 

part about capturing Saloom was that it meant we could then start developing 

the information he gave us and hopefully working on his boss. It was with the 

information from guys like Saloom that I felt we could really make a lasting difference instead of just rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

We had already given the MIT all we had on Saloom, including the bag 

with the weapons receipt and the information from Hadr. As I watched them 

escort him into the interrogation room they had set up, I leaned back with a 

Pine Light and a Diet Coke and joked cheerfully with Cory, Jonah, and Dave. 

Fift een minutes later, when one of the two members of the team came out of 

the room, I was prepared to provide him the smallest bit of information I might 

know about Saloom that you can’t just pass on in a report.

“Th is guy is good” or “this guy is clean” or “his story sounds legit” – something to that eff ect—is what the graying, older, fat, dopey-looking, professional 

interrogator said. He went on, aft er our restrained demand for an explanation, 

that Saloom had said he was the best taxi driver in town and that many people 

were jealous of him and would lie about him to Coalition forces. When we asked 

about the bag with the weapons receipts, with his name all over them, and in 

what looked like his handwriting, I almost had to be physically restrained when 

the interrogator said the receipts were just some papers he said he found in one 

of the buildings on the base that the Armored Battalion now occupied. Saloom 

thought they were cool and wanted to keep them. He also thought they were so 

cool he wanted to write his name on a few. Finally the interrogator said, “Th ere 

is no way to ‘prove’ that was his handwriting.” Dave, a burly 240-lb ex-Division 

I NCAA football player, did have to be physically restrained. I thanked the MIT 

for their time—about 2 hours with the packet they didn’t read and 15 minutes 

total with Saloom—and told them to make sure the door didn’t hit them in the 

butt on the way out. 

Over the next 30 hours I attempted to question Saloom three times. Th e 

fi rst time he was brimming with confi dence. Th ough he didn’t speak English 

and was barely literate in Arabic, he knew some gullible American had bought 

the ridiculous story he had spun. I think that by the third session I might have 
| 197

broken down his instilled perception that all Americans were gullible. Th e 

audacity of his lies returned and frustrated me more than before. 

Th ere was more than enough information to keep Saloom locked up for 

a while, and I am fairly certain he spent a good amount of time in jail. We were 

left with nothing. We had come as far up the food chain as we could go. Th e next 

day I did two things. First, I sat down with the detachment and looked at any 

information we had on low-level arms dealers or fi ghters to target so we could 

start working back up the chain of terrorists in Iraq. By this time the satellite 

Internet system we bought on the local economy was fi nally up and running. I 

went on ‘Amazon.com’ and bought a book on interrogations.

Postscript

Aft er I was back from Iraq for a few months, another group of teams from 

my unit was preparing to go over. As part of their training they had been told to 

conduct a block of interrogation training. I was lucky enough to piggyback onto 

this training. It was a 40-hour course taught by a former FBI interrogator. Later 

we would certify most of our people conducting interrogations on the Reid Technique. Although these law enforcement models did not fi t well in Iraq, they still 

built confi dence in the team members and helped fi ll an obvious need.

A Tactical Soldier’s Insights—Current Atmosphere

If our professionals don’t have clear standards in the law, the 

program (Detainee Detention Act) is not going to go forward. 

You cannot ask a young intelligence offi cer to violate the law. 

And they’re not going to. Th ey will not violate the law....You 

can’t ask a young professional on the front line of protecting 

this country to violate the law.... I got to give them the tools 

they need. And that is clear law.421

— President George W. Bush

September, 2006

Ignorantia Juris Non Excusat

President Bush made these comments in a Rose Garden address in 

defense of his Detainee Detention Act. Th e much-needed and well-intentioned 

act brought clarity to Common Article III of the Geneva Convention and helped 

defi ne terms such as “outrages upon human dignity.” However, those making 

421 George W. Bush, President of the United States, “Press Conference of the President,” 

speech presented at the Rose Garden of the White House, Washington, DC, 15 September 2006, 

URL:<www.whitehouse.gov/news/release/2006/09.html>, accessed 18 September 2006.
198 |

decisions at, and for, the strategic level on interrogations have done nothing to 

help the ground soldier. Worse, their decisions have had a ripple eff ect that has 

degraded U.S. intelligence-gathering eff orts.

Soldiers in the fi eld, those “young professional[s] on the front line of protecting this country” that President Bush referred to, do not and cannot follow what is happening in Washington. Th e Detainee Detention Act pertained 

only to a select group of high-level detainees and was intended for the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and lawmakers, not for the soldier. What the 

soldier needed then and still needs today are clear rules on who can conduct 

an interrogation and where, when, and under what circumstances he can conduct an interrogation. Th is all presupposes that the soldier can distinguish right 

from wrong, and does not need a moral code dictated to him. Th e abuse and 

mistreatment of detainees is a separate issue. Th e President’s leadership on this 

issue was and is needed, although that leadership is echelons above reality for a 

soldier who is not empowered to do his job.

At least one senior-level offi cial stated that the new Army FM 2-22.3 

contains all the answers regarding interrogation and that the category “tactical 

questioning” should cover everything else that tactical soldiers might face.422

Th is approach disregards the intricacies that soldiers, especially Special Forces 

soldiers, face on today’s battlefi elds. 

Based on the author’s experience, most commanders have not read, nor 

do they understand, the current doctrine with regard to who can conduct interrogations. As a result, soldiers and commanders are now conducting interrogations in ignorance of current doctrine. In many cases, the mindset among 

commanders is one of intentionally not wanting to know the current doctrine 

on interrogations, out of fear that once they do know they will lose the ad hoc 

capability to conduct interrogations and therefore mission eff ectiveness will be 

degraded. At the same time, commanders are nervous about the rules governing interrogations because they have read the headlines and are aware of the 

debate. Interrogations not conforming to current doctrine are being conducted 

under a veil of secrecy, because to discuss interrogation doctrine would lead 

to tacit acknowledgment of violating it. If the unit or previous commander got 

away with skirting the rules, then such behavior may appear to be tolerated, as 

long as the mission succeeds. Th is is especially true for interrogations because 

the information they provide is so vital to operations. However, once a commander scratches the surface of the doctrine and realizes it prohibits his men 

from conducting interrogations, it creates a moral dilemma for him and his 

men. Th e need for the information remains, but their means of obtaining it is 

422 A high-level intelligence professional at a national intelligence organization, who was 

interviewed on a non-attribution basis in September 2006.
| 199

circumvented by the doctrine. Th erefore, the current doctrine creates an unintentional but real quandary for tactical soldiers that must be resolved. No act 

in warfare should ever be carried out in an atmosphere of fear, concern, and 

secrecy. Th e Latin phrase ignorantia juris non excusat (“ignorance of the law 

does not excuse”) serves as warning.

In the course of his research the author talked with two Special Forces 

group commanders (both colonels, O-6), one acting group commander, a colonel in charge of Special Forces training, a Special Forces sergeant major in 

charge of training soldiers deploying to Iraq and Afghanistan, a Special Forces 

group JAG offi cer, and countless team- and company-level Special Forces soldiers. All of these men were certain that they or their men were authorized to 

conduct interrogations. None of them could cite the authority giving them this 

confi dence. Some discussed interrogation training they had conducted at the 

group level. All of them viewed it as simply an integral part of fi ghting a war. 

Th e only offi cial pre-mission training on interrogations that covered 

who is authorized to interrogate simply stated, “Interrogators interrogate 

(period),”423 with emphasis on the period. Th e military services have Army 

FM 2-22.3 today because of the linkages explained earlier. Most of the current 

doctrine results in large part from the abuses perpetrated at Abu Ghraib. Even 

though investigations found only questionable, non-linear links between intelligence interrogations and the abuses at Abu Ghraib,424 the Pentagon’s reaction 

was swift and sweeping. Additionally, almost all the behavior shown in the photographs occurred in the dead of night among military police, wholly separate 

from interrogations. Most abuse victims were not even scheduled to be interrogated, because they were of no intelligence value.425

Th e best known and most discussed results of changes to U.S. military 

interrogation tactics in the wake of Abu Ghraib were that interrogators could no 

longer use stress positions and many controversial techniques. A lesser known 

issue is that additional rules were now published as to who is authorized to 

interrogate a detainee. Currently, for both the professional interrogator and the 

soldiers in harm’s way, “red tape now entangles the interrogation process, and 

detainees know that their adversaries’ hands are tied.”426

423 Colonel Richard Pregent, Staff Judge Advocate, U.S. Army Intelligence and Security 

Command, “Interrogation Law for Interrogators,”1 February 2005.

424 Mark Danner, Torture and Truth: America, Abu Ghraib, and the War on Terror, New York: 

New York, 2004.

425 Heather MacDonald, “How to Interrogate Terrorists,” City Journal, Winter 2005, URL: 

<www.city-journal.org/html/15_1_terrorists.html>, accessed 16 March 2007. Cited hereafter as 

MacDonald, Interrogate.

426 MacDonald, Interrogate.
200 |

Th is entanglement stems from the inability of senior-ranking offi cers to 

understand the tactical level and the diff erences between the tactical and strategic levels. Every policy set forth on interrogations, every speech lawmakers and 

national leaders give, actually deals with strategic interrogations. However, these 

leaders extrapolate the presentations to the tactical framework, as though average soldiers, or even average military interrogators, would normally encounter 

the issues that arise in strategic interrogation. Th is simply does not happen.

Th e diff erences between a tactical-level interrogation (a real tactical level, 

as discussed below) and a strategic-level interrogation are gargantuan. Yet interrogation plans are still written to encompass interrogations at every level. Th ey 

must be triple-checked all the way up to the Pentagon by offi cers who have 

never conducted an interrogation.427 To complicate matters further, many of 

these offi cers have never had tactical combat experience. In layman’s terms, they 

have “never heard a shot fi red in anger.” Th ey are the ones now shaping the 

doctrine that guides the members of our military who possess tactical-level war 

experience.

Strategic vs. Tactical Interrogations

Let us compare the characteristics of a strategic-level interrogation to 

those of a tactical-level interrogation. Th e cases presented earlier should provide a clear baseline of a “real” tactical interrogation. Strategic interrogations 

most closely resemble Hadr’s interrogation, but include far more support and 

time. Th e defi ning aspect of a strategic interrogation as compared to a tactical 

one is time. Tactical interrogations must be expedient, whereas strategic interrogations take place over months and years. In these months the interrogator 

can draw on a much larger array of tools, the most obvious, of course, being 

time.

Another important diff erence is that strategic interrogations are performed by a team. An interrogation team might include as many as three interrogators, each with skills in the prisoner’s language. Additional members of 

the team are the MPs who relieve the interrogators of any additional security 

responsibility. Th e interrogators might also have the direct support of a behavioral psychologist, a lawyer, an anthropologist, and a supervisor, all contributing 

to exploiting the prisoner. Unlike tactical interrogations, strategic interrogations 

are carried out in fi xed facilities, and security is rarely an issue.

Th e cases cited earlier portray tactical interrogation. Th is study uses the 

term “real” tactical interrogations to counter the images of such interrogations 

presented in the press and shared by policymakers at the strategic level. For 

example, in reporting on the interrogations that led to identifying the whereabouts of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, Mark Bowden describes a special operations 

427 MacDonald, Interrogate.
| 201

interrogation task force as working in a “Battlefi eld Interrogation Facility.”428

A battlefi eld interrogation represents the lowest of tactical-level interrogations. 

However, Bowden later describes this facility as being on the 15-square-mile 

Balad Air Base, one of the largest in Iraq, complete with a Green Bean coff ee 

shop, Pizza Hut, and Burger King open around the clock.429 Th e base is also 

known as Camp Anaconda.

Heather MacDonald came a little closer to reality in her description of 

tactical debriefi ng. She described a “ramshackle detention facility” outside 

Kandahar airport.430 She noted that the interrogation task force in Afghanistan would determine which prisoners were signifi cant enough to be shipped to 

Guantanamo Bay. Tactical interrogations are conducted in places far removed 

from the nearest Burger King, however, and the results do not determine if the 

prisoner is of signifi cant value to be shipped off to GTMO. 

Th e Pentagon might believe interrogations described by Bowden and 

MacDonald are tactical interrogations, although they are really operationallevel interactions. Regrettably, that misunderstanding only serves to highlight 

policymakers’ ignorance of a very complex series of events taking place at the 

tactical level. It also displays their lack of knowledge about the value of interrogations such as those described earlier. 

We hear a lot these days about America’s overpowering military technology; about the professionalism of its warriors; about the sophistication of its 

weaponry, eavesdropping, and telemetry; but right now the most vital weapon 

in its arsenal may well be the art of interrogation.431

Current doctrine has robbed tactical forces of this “most vital weapon.” 

Th ose conducting strategic interrogations and those making policy decisions in 

Washington know the importance of interrogations at the strategic level. However, they are failing to recognize the impact of interrogations at the tactical 

level.

One tenet applying to all interrogations is that some detainees are “lockboxes containing potentially life-saving information,”432 and we pay for their 

silence with our blood.433 Because of either ignorance or lack of trust, the Pentagon does not believe these tenets apply equally to tactical and strategic interrogations. While a tactical interrogation carried out on the battlefi eld will not 

reveal details of the next major terrorist attack coming to U.S. soil, it can reveal 

428 Mark Bowden, The Ploy, The Atlantic, May 2003, 55. Cited hereafter as Bowden, The Ploy.

429 Bowden, The Ploy, 56.

430 MacDonald, Interrogate.

431 Mark Bowden, “The Dark Art of Interrogation,” The Atlantic Monthly Online, October 

2003, URL:<www.theatlantic.com/200310/bowden>, accessed 16 March 2007. Cited hereafter 

as Bowden, The Dark Art.

432 Bowden, The Dark Art.

433 Bowden, The Dark Art.
202 |

intelligence to stabilize the local town or information that will save the life of 

the interrogator. Even so, the Pentagon feels compelled to diff erentiate between 

intelligence interrogations and tactical questioning. Th e rules allow only “professional” interrogators to conduct intelligence interrogations and leave everyone else—from a truck driver to a Special Forces intelligence sergeant—with 

only the tool of tactical questioning, which restricts them to asking expedient 

initial questions to discover information of only immediate value.

A Lesson from Tactical Interrogations: Th e Shock of 

Capture

Just as strategic interrogations have many tangible facets that make tactical interrogations look paltry, tactical interrogations have a great intangible 

advantage that strategic-level interrogators would be overjoyed to possess. Th e 

greatest advantage of a tactical interrogation is leveraging the shock of capture:

Th e frustrated interrogators constantly discussed how to get it. Th e best 

hope, they agreed, was to re-create the “shock of capture”—that vulnerable 

mental state when a prisoner is most frightened, most uncertain, and most 

likely to respond to questioning. Uncertainty is an interrogator’s most powerful 

ally; exploited wisely, it can lead the detainee to believe that the interrogator is 

in total control and holds the key to his future.434

Th e maximum opportunity for intelligence gathering comes in the fi rst 

hours aft er an arrest, before others in a group can possibly know that their walls 

have been breached.435

Th e bottom line is fear works. Th e best way to use this fear is when it is 

genuine and originates with the source. Fear that is not introduced artifi cially, 

but originates solely in the mind of the prisoner, is the most eff ective. However, 

it is when an interrogator tries to re-create the fear that can only accompany the 

shock of capture that he runs the risk of crossing the line into abuse.

An interrogator who has missed the opportunity to leverage the shock of 

capture has two options. Th e fi rst option is to try to re-create that fear. Th e longer the time elapsed between capture and the fi rst real interrogation the harder 

it will be to return the prisoner to that pinnacle of fear he felt hours or days ago. 

Th erefore, the interrogator must try other techniques to frighten the detainee. 

Th e most desirable method is for the interrogator to suggest harsher conditions and cause the detainee to create his own fear. Stress positions, which have 

been outlawed, and “advanced techniques” are other, more controversial, ways 

to make the detainee think his future is uncertain.

434 MacDonald, Interrogate.

435 Bowden, The Dark Art.
| 203

However, even the least aggressive of these techniques has come into 

question. FBI agents at GTMO could not even suggest to the people whom 

they interrogated that they might possibly be sentenced to death, because “Th at 

would be a violation of the Convention Against Torture.”436 Th ey theorized that 

any covert threat might infl ict “severe mental pain.” Given this precedent, one 

is left to ponder alternative circumstances under which an interrogator could 

induce, or try to employ the tactic of, fear other than on initial capture. We have 

not reached the point where a rational person could argue we should not capture terrorists because it could infl ict “severe mental pain”—yet.

Shock

Adieb and Hadr both serve as stark examples of the eff ects of capture. 

Adieb presents a case where the interrogators did not need to play on his fear. 

Th e fear Adieb felt was all too real from the minute the Special Forces team 

appeared, since he knew he had bomb-making material in his possession. 

Moreover, he stood 5-10 feet away from the material when a shower of sparks 

fi lled the area of his trunk containing the explosives. In the author’s opinion, it 

was that brush with death that pushed him over the edge into hysteria. Th en 

the team intentionally added to that fear, not realizing Adieb’s already unstable 

mental state. Th is combination of events led to his extreme reaction.437 He was 

no longer able to process his fear. Had the team possibly played on these fears 

to a lesser degree and then treated him in the same way they treated Hadr, that 

hot-to-cold eff ect could have resulted in an uncontrollable fl ow of information 

from the prisoner instead of his uncontrollable mental shutdown.

Th e shock of capture can play out two ways. Th e fi rst results from the 

eff ect of getting the suspect on his heels. It is the act of getting inside the target’s 

decision cycle. It keeps him in a state of observing and orienting and keeping 

him from making a thoroughly considered decision. An example is the abrupt 

transition from being asleep to being bound and traveling to an unknown destination with a group of armed men. Th e second, which has received less attention, is the shock a prisoner experiences when his captors treat him in a way that 

is diametrically opposed to his expectations. Th is second aspect is also aff ected 

greatly by the time between the actual capture and the time of the fi rst interview, 

i.e., the time between the fi rst and the second shock. Th e intent should be to 

minimize the time that elapses between the two.

Essential to producing the eff ect is the dissociation of the interrogator 

from the prisoner’s fear. If the interrogator created the fear, the shift to kinder 

treatment or a better environment will seem unnatural to all parties involved. 

436 MacDonald, Interrogate.

437 Andrew K. Moskowitz, “‘Scared Stiff”: Catatonia as an Evolutionary-Based Fear 

Response,” Psychological Review, 2004, Vol. 111, No. 4, 984.
204 |

If, however, the fear comes from uncontrollable events, such as the weather, a 

long drive, or a near-death experience, then the interrogator and prisoner can 

empathize with each other at least on some level. It may also allow the interrogator to play the role of a savior and authority fi gure who can control everything 

about the detainee’s environment. Both are very powerful tools. Of course, if 

the change from a hostile environment to a comfortable one (and one could 

theorize vice versa) is drawn out over even a few minutes, the shock could lose 

its eff ectiveness. 

Hadr’s case presents the best example. Hadr’s fear came solely from himself. Once his captors recognized he was frightened, his anxieties were not 

abated until his interrogators were ready to remove them. Th e team could have 

exacerbated them by doing anything from staging a mock execution to simply leaving him in the desert, keeping him blindfolded and bound, and watching him from a distance for a few minutes. Because he was already frightened, 

because he was still operating under the shock of capture, they did not need to 

resort to any of those questionable tactics. Instead, the team adopted a policy 

guided by a recognition that “the more we interact and involve ourselves in 

the detainee’s thought process during this period, the more we could push him 

over the edge,” as had happened with Adieb. Th e team members also believed 

the more interaction they had with Hadr during this phase the more it might 

facilitate his associating his fear with the individuals on the team. Conversely, 

the team could make a mistake and possibly relieve him of his fears.

Th e team did not know why Hadr was so terrifi ed. Was it the cold, the 

unknown, the capture, not knowing what was next, the fear of being murdered? 

One could assume that if the team had tried to frighten Hadr further by mentioning his coming torture back at the base, it might actually have caused him to 

become more calm by removing his fear of being executed or abandoned.

Hadr’s off er to accompany the team the next day is diffi cult to analyze. 

One possibility is that from early in the night Hadr was so entirely wrapped up 

in the events of the evening, the highs and lows, that he was no longer thinking 

before he spoke. Th e author believes that Hadr did not even realize the extent 

to which he had capitulated. His continued assistance the next day and his later 

assistance to the coalition in Baghdad came about either because of a sudden 

reformation or because he realized he had unconsciously switched teams and 

decided there was no turning back.

“An unfrightened prisoner makes an unlikely informer.”438 Saloom was 

certainly frightened when the detachment fi nally captured him. As his paltry 

resistance withered (“he was not the man we were looking for”), he was unable 

438 Bowden, The Dark Art.
| 205

to devise an alternate tactic while the team kept him on the defensive. Out of 

fear, Saloom decided to use the “it wasn’t me” defense, but under the shock of 

capture he could not persevere in maintaining it. Only when he realized that 

the MIT team would accept his story did he not merely lose all fear, but actually 

become cocky, confi dent, and arrogant. Th is dynamic shift occurred in a matter 

of a few minutes. Th ereaft er it took almost a day and a half to convince him that 

he was not invulnerable.

Th e Interrogator’s Options

Two basic rules govern the ways of leveraging the shock of capture in the 

tactical environment. First, if the prisoner is already frightened and the team 

wants information from him, they should not try to aff ect the fear. Th ey should 

not try to play on it and heighten it, but should also not try to remove this 

burden from him... yet. Th e second rule is that the interrogators must be the 

ones who determine when the prisoner is freed of his fear. Th is not only demonstrates that the interrogators are in complete control of the environment but 

also conveys the subconscious notion that they are in control of the prisoner’s 

emotions. If this belief can take root in the prisoner’s mind, then it creates the 

conditions for the prisoner to capitulate. Time is of the essence, and the tactical team cannot risk keeping a detainee in the panic zone long enough to allow 

him to calm himself on his own and give him confi dence that he could relieve 

himself of his own fear. Th erefore, relying on an interrogator who may be hours 

if not days away is impractical.

Captors can alleviate a prisoner’s fear through an improved environment, 

a tone of voice, some choice words, or a friendly gesture. To augment the shock 

of capture in a diff erent way and keep the detainee “off balance,” interrogators 

should apply all of these techniques and confront the prisoner with a fl ood of 

the unexpected. Additionally, they should keep questions to a minimum. Th e 

goal would be to convey to the detainee that as long as he talks about topics 

that hold the interrogator’s interest he could remain warm and comfortable and 

have food, Red Bull, and cigarettes. Hadr’s torrent of conversation was diffi -

cult to stop because he knew that what he was experiencing was far better than 

whatever might happen next, even release into a cold, wet night.

Some, maybe even most, of what a prisoner might say will be of no intelligence value. However, experience has shown that merely getting a detainee to 

communicate with his captors is sometimes the most diffi cult step. Additionally, the detainee can only guess what his interrogators do and do not know. He 

may be describing something he believes to be common knowledge or already 

known to the interrogators, while they in fact are discovering or confi rming 

actionable intelligence.
206 |

Th e most diffi cult part of implementing this tactic is treating the prisoner kindly. Th e team had no qualms about heightening Adieb’s fears; aft er all, 

Adieb had almost allowed them to be blown up. Conversely, the team found 

it easy to be pleasant to Hadr, primarily because they genuinely regretted that 

they had allowed him to become so cold. Moreover, they had little information about him or what he had done; they did not know if he was simply in the 

wrong place or was a cold-blooded killer. Finally, it was very diffi cult to treat 

Saloom decently. Even aft er the positive experience with Hadr, the team could 

not bring themselves to pander to a terrorist who now was sitting comfortably 

in his tower aft er his victory over the MIT.

People are afraid of the unknown. Th ey are afraid of being 

tortured, of being held for a long time. Try to see what it is like 

to sit with a hood over your head for four hours, when you 

are hungry and tired and afraid, when you are isolated from 

everything and have no clue what is going on. When the captive believes that anything could happen... the interrogator 

can go to work.439

Imagine what happens in the prisoner’s mind when the isolation and 

hunger end. No matter how they end, a progression has taken place. If the prisoner is tortured, he understands what his life will be like in captivity. If he is 

questioned in a stern manner and then returned to his cell or treated with kindness, some of the unknowns have been resolved. 

If the interrogation begins with torture or the most extreme measure permissible, what other options does the interrogator have? For a while the prisoner will not know that the interrogator has exhausted his options, but he will 

discover it soon. What avenues remain? Conversely, if the interrogator answers 

the prisoner’s questions about the unknown with the unexpected, he can obtain 

some expedient results. Th e key diff erence is that if the unexpected is at the farthest possible end of the spectrum from torture, then the interrogator still has 

many potential methods left to exploit. If the detainee becomes too comfortable 

or complacent, nothing in regulations or custom prevents the interrogator from 

making his circumstances far worse. 

Th e emphasis should not be on the extent to which the interrogator can 

make the detainee uncomfortable, cause him physical pain, or increase his fear. 

Instead, it should be on the degree of change from one environment to the next. 

439 Bowden, The Dark Art.
| 207

For example, if a prisoner sleeps in a cell that contains a pot and a mat and 

the interrogator removes the mat, the prisoner’s environment has changed. Th e 

small mat probably had great importance for him. An interrogator might give 

the prisoner only a pot for the fi rst few days of his captivity and ask no more 

than the prisoner’s name and the names of his family members for the fi rst 

week. Th en, if the interrogator suddenly provided the prisoner with a bed, a 

shower, a toilet, and hot food, and seemed ready to listen to anything the prisoner wanted to discuss, the abrupt change might allow the interrogator to learn 

volumes about the enemy. Th is is merely one illustration of the methods recommended. Th e underlying premise is grounded at the tactical level. Soldiers 

could apply it over the course of a few hours; strategic-level interrogators could 

hone it to their own purposes.

Th e insights in this section apply specifi cally to troops without interrogator support at the tactical level. Th ere are a lot of emotions at the tactical level 

that can hamper eff ective interrogations. Controlling those emotions and channeling behavior in ways known to be eff ective are not easy, but with proper 

training can be accomplished. Th ose who draw up doctrine must understand 

the intricacies and emotions involved. Decision makers, who decide which tools 

to provide the “young professional[s] on the front line of protecting this country,” must understand the environment in which the tools will be employed. 

Th e Case for Special Forces Interrogations

Th e Special Forces are mysterious, and the number of civilians who do not 

understand their mission is proportional to the number in the military’s own 

ranks who do not understand how they accomplish the mission. Th e popular 

view is accurate: Special Forces will be tasked to conduct daring raids to capture 

a specifi c individual at a specifi c place and time. Th ey will receive a thick packet 

of intelligence and a complete plan for how the operation will take place. Th ey 

are a football team executing a play the coaches drew up. Th ese, however, do not 

constitute the majority of Special Forces missions.

Special Forces are known as force multipliers; they do more with less. 

Th e typical mission involves living in the community and assimilating into the 

culture as much as possible to allow Special Forces to generate their own intelligence and develop their own plays. Th is very attractive feature of the Special 

Forces community draws many soldiers to its ranks from the lock-step “Big 

Army” lifestyle. It also creates a highly eff ective force that is not a burden to support. Without the ability to conduct interrogations at the tactical level, however, 

Special Forces are hamstrung.

Why does current doctrine not allow Special Forces operators to interrogate? Why did the Pentagon change the new Field Manual by specifying who 

can conduct interrogation? And why do policymakers not clarify the letter of 

the doctrine to refl ect its intent? 
208 |

Th e three reasons why interrogation operations were made more restrictive 

are accountability, uniformity, and training. Th e subsections below summarize 

the standard arguments for each rationale and then off er counterarguments.

Accountability

To allow Special Forces and units with similar missions to conduct interrogations is to give a very sensitive tool to a type of unit that operates in the 

shadows. ODAs receive little to no oversight. Th eir reporting and chain of command are sometimes hidden and evolve spontaneously on the battlefi eld. Conventional commanders are oft en confused about who “owns” these forces. At 

fi rst glance, allowing Special Forces to conduct their own interrogations would 

constitute a recipe for potential abuse.

However, these soldiers are already allowed considerable fl exibility and 

autonomy in their daily operations. Do interrogations fall into such a sensitive category that they are potentially riskier than conducting raids, advising 

regional government offi cials, or overseeing large construction projects? Th ese 

are all normal activities for Special Operators, if there were a “normal” operation for these unconventional troops.

Interrogators at fi xed detention sites in Afghanistan also struggled to 

determine what was authorized under the rules for interrogations.440 Like a 

Special Forces team, these interrogators oft en operate as small independent 

groups; however, they are not nearly as senior or mature as Special Forces teams. 

While they debated what was allowed, a similar debate took place in Washington. Memoranda from the Pentagon, the CIA, the White House and, most 

notoriously, from the Justice Department allowed far more latitude than the soldiers had adopted.441 According to one commentator, “Looking back through 

the lens of Abu Ghraib, the debates that took place among the interrogators at 

Bagram in early 2002 seem enlightened.”442 It is misguided to believe that a unit 

the Army has deemed more mature and better trained than most soldiers would 

abuse its authority when conducting interrogations merely because it operates 

independently.

Uniformity

Interrogators in Afghanistan derived the tactics they used from their own 

training experiences. Th ey theorized that if the interrogator was enduring the 

440 Chris Mackey and Greg Miller, “The Interrogators: Task Force 500 and America’s Secret 

War Against Al Qaeda,” New York: Little, Brown and Company, July, 2004. Cited hereafter as 

Mackey, Interrogators.

441 Greg Miller, “Bound by Convention,” Stanford Magazine, November/December 2004. 

Cited hereafter as Miller, Convention.

442 Miller, Convention.
| 209

same sleeplessness as the detainees then the method could not be considered “torture.” Th ey called their techniques “Monstering.”443 Th e hardened soldiers of the 

Special Forces might adopt this thought process and disrupt the uniformity of 

interrogations, because these men are not representative of the average soldier. 

What they could endure and what a detainee could endure would be dramatically 

diff erent. Moreover, the sheer physical endurance is not as important as the mental endurance they possess. Special Forces soldiers do not think of themselves as 

extraordinary, but they have a “suck it up and drive on” mentality that might prove 

dangerous in an interrogation room. Certainly, the term “outrages upon human 

dignity” would elicit an array of colorful responses from a Special Forces team. 

However, Special Forces soldiers have another key characteristic—their 

drive to win. Special Forces soldiers are extremely outgoing. On tests such as 

the Myers-Briggs and Th omas-Kilmann they score off the charts in the extrovert, assertive category. Put bluntly, they are Lee Cobb’s character in “12 Angry 

Men.”444 Th is trait of Special Forces would override any desire to treat the 

detainee as harshly as they were treated in their own training. If these soldiers 

were shown a way to conduct an eff ective interrogation, then that would be 

the method they would use, because they would know that it represented their 

best chance of winning. Th at is also why such soldiers are probably conducting 

interrogations in Iraq now without the appropriate authority.

Training

Training, or the lack thereof, is paramount among the concerns. “Preparing an interrogator means arming him beforehand.”445 Clearly, there are good 

reasons for not letting Special Forces soldiers—or anyone—conduct interrogations unless they are trained to do so. Nevertheless, establishing selective, competitive, diffi cult-to-attend schooling does not constitute a reasonable approach 

to training them or allowing them to conduct interrogations. Interrogations 

play so important a role on today’s battlefi eld and have become so politically 

sensitive that they must be addressed on a much larger scale.

Th e number of enemy captured exceeds the number of enemy killed. By 

design, Special Forces training does not include a detainee-related exercise or 

dilemma. With interrogations becoming such a sensitive issue over the past few 

years, the U.S. Army Special Forces Command has intentionally distanced itself 

from interrogations.446 Yet, it should embrace the challenge, rather than evade 

it.

443 Mackey, Interrogators.

444 “12 Angry Men,” starring Henry Fonda and Lee J. Cobb, directed by Sidney Lumet, 

distributed by MGM Studios, Hollywood, CA, 1957, DVD.

445 Bowden, The Dark Art.

446 A high-level Special Forces officer serving in a position that oversees SF training, who 

was interviewed on a non-attribution basis by the author in November 2006.
210 |

 First, the Army should add a detainee treatment overview to the Special 

Forces Qualifi cation Course (SFQC), the course that makes Green Berets. Th is 

course is already brimming with skills the students must master in a very short 

period of time. Additional classes on detainee handling have joined a long list 

of suggestions that simply were not included in the lengthy, trying course that 

produces some of our country’s greatest defenders. However, if one examines 

the amount of time a Special Forces soldier spends in Iraq dealing with detainees and how much he relies on them for information, adding a half-day class on 

detainee operations would inform the soldier and protect the command. 

Th e best option would be to modify the culminating exercise, “Robin 

Sage,” so that rather than making each mission one in which the trainees kill 

large numbers of the enemy they confront more realistic detainee-related dilemmas. Th ese soldiers should see in training the questions that actually arise when 

processing and questioning a detainee on an asymmetric battlefi eld.

Th e focal points of a Special Forces team’s interrogation training should 

be the team’s warrant offi cer and intelligence sergeant. Both of these positions 

require additional training. During these additional courses, soldiers should 

receive approximately 40 hours of interrogation training that would qualify and 

authorize them to conduct interrogations and supervise interrogations conducted by other graduates of the SFQC. Each Special Forces team has two of 

every specialty. Having both the team’s warrant offi cer and intelligence sergeant 

qualifi ed for this task would provide the needed redundancy. Warrant offi cers 

who eventually leave the team could then apply their knowledge of interrogations to oversight at the company and battalion levels.

Th e recommended training must focus on intelligence interrogations 

and not on law enforcement interrogations, which have vastly diff erent goals. 

In an attempt to train soldiers on this much-needed skill set, individual Special 

Forces groups have contracted for instruction on interrogations based on methods such as the Reid Technique. Th is is clear evidence Special Forces recognized 

a gap prior to the introduction of FM 2-22.3. While this was a satisfactory stopgap measure when it was authorized, this technique should not be viewed as the 

panacea to the much more complex issue.

Allowing Special Forces to conduct their own training and interrogations 

would greatly enhance mission eff ectiveness. More important, it would provide much-needed protection against possible inquiries and prosecution. Th ere 

is already too much misunderstanding about interrogation from the highest 

to the lowest level. For that reason, soldiers are told the only tool available to 

them is tactical questioning: expedient questioning to obtain information. At 
| 211

the same time, the top U.S. commander in Iraq has stated the military does not 

sanction “expedient methods to obtain information.”447

Conclusion: Th e Letter versus the Intent

How can U.S. Army Special Forces accomplish assigned missions while 

still adhering to DoD doctrine on intelligence interrogation and tactical 

questioning?

Consider a situation like Hadr’s in light of today’s doctrine. A Special 

Forces team does not include anyone authorized to conduct interrogations in 

Iraq. Th e team captures a prisoner and encounters delays in moving him to an 

approved detention facility and turning him over to the MPs, as is required by 

doctrine.448 Moreover, even if the team included an approved interrogator it 

would still be forced to wait until it reached an approved facility before questioning him. It is rainy and dark, the team is having vehicle problems, and the 

town between it and the detention facility is currently the location of a fi refi ght. 

Th erefore, the team decides to risk holding the prisoner overnight. During 

the “expedient initial questioning” of the detainee for the purpose of gathering “information of immediate value,” which is allowed under the narrow defi -

nition of tactical questioning, the detainee begins to reveal who bombed the 

team’s base last month. Th e detainee also wants to tell them who has been paying and supplying all anti-coalition forces in the area. What should the team 

do? Th is information is not of immediate value and needs more than expedient 

questioning to elicit.

Any general in Washington would look at this example and say, “Of 

course they should get all the information they can.” Th is would be especially 

true in cases such as Hadr’s, where the team could not stop the detainee from 

talking. Would the team be allowed to keep the detainee for another day to 

assist in the reconnaissance of local terrorist safe houses? Does the team leadership have the authority to release the detainee of its own accord? Th e doctrine 

is unclear on all these specifi cs, but the restrictive wording of current doctrine 

would suggest that the team would have none of these options available to it. In 

other words, the generals in Washington would want the team to “feel” that it 

could pursue intelligence obtained during expedient questioning even though 

it is not “of immediate value.” However, those same generals have written doctrine that does not allow this. Th us, the letter of the law contradicts the intent 

of the law.

447 Laura Blumenfeld, “The Tortured Lives of Interrogators,” The Washington Post, 4 June 2007, 

URL>: www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/06/03/AR2007060301121.html>, 

accessed 4 June 2007. Cited hereafter as Blumenfeld, Tortured.

448 FM 2-22.3, 5-15.
212 |

Th e intent of the law is to prevent individual teams from hosting private 

detention facilities and using tactics that are not approved. An additional intent 

of the law is probably to enable Pentagon spokespersons to assure the media 

that only specially trained “interrogators” have access to detainees. For this reason FM 2-22.3 reads as if it were written by lawyers for lawyers, rather than by 

soldiers for soldiers.

Th e letter of the law is clearer. “Interrogations may only be conducted by 

personnel trained and certifi ed in the interrogation methodology, including 

personnel in MOSs 97E, 351M (351E), or select others as may be approved by 

DOD policy.”449 Current research has found only three programs that would 

certify a soldier as trained. Th e fi rst is the interrogator course at Fort Huachuca, which is restricted to the MOSs listed above. Th e second is another 

course at Fort Huachuca, the Joint Interrogation Course (JIC), which is not 

yet offi cially receiving students.450 Th is course is designed for soldiers whose 

primary job is not interrogation, and would fi ll much of the need identifi ed in 

this study. However, it is rumored the JIC will still only allow interrogations to 

take place at an “approved facility,” which creates numerous problems. Moreover, every unit in the Army would try to enroll its soldiers in that course, and 

it would be overwhelmed immediately unless it had very selective admission 

criteria.

Very little information is available about the third course, which is run 

by USCENTCOM and only approves soldiers to conduct interrogations in 

that area of operations. Th is is an eff ective, albeit stopgap, measure to allow a 

select few—only those who can manage an assignment to attend the course—

to conduct interrogations in the current fi ght. It fails to address the greater 

issue or any current or future operations outside USCENTCOM’s area of 

responsibility.

Even if a soldier has received the requisite training, he still lacks coherent guidance on how to put it into practice. FM 2-22.3 only briefl y discusses 

tactical questioning and then directs the reader to ST 2-91, which provides 

no information about the use of tactical questioning as a tool to gather intelligence from a detainee. Instead, it off ers a detailed discussion of a patrol’s 

use of tactical questioning in random conversation with locals who are not 

being detained. Th e level of guidance on tactical questioning was designed 

for members of a patrol. It is a good tool and a worthwhile text for a private 

in Advanced Individual Training (AIT). For a Special Forces team the text 

covers topics that have been part of Special Forces standard operating pro449 FM 2-22.3, 1-8 & 5-13.

450 A source interviewed by the author in September 2006 but due to deployment scheduling not available for a follow-up interview.
| 213

cedures (SOPs) since the 1940s. Moreover, tactical questioning restricts the 

type and duration of any interaction resembling a tactical interrogation. A 

soldier’s concept of the “fi eld” diff ers greatly from what the authors of FM 

2-22.3 believe the fi eld to be: 

Although fi eld interrogations are conducted at all echelons 

and during all operations in which there are detainees, detention facilities where interrogation operations occur are normally located only at theater or JTF level.451

In fact, the theater level is greatly removed from the level at which Special Forces teams operate. Although they are involved in producing eff ects 

at the theater or strategic level, these teams move too fast or are dug in too 

deeply to have direct interaction with theater-level commanders or staff . Th e 

letter of the law states that interrogations can happen at “all levels” and during “all operations,” but only in rare cases is a soldier who is authorized to 

conduct them available at the tactical level. However, even if an interrogator 

is available, rarely would it be a viable option to insert any “specialist” into a 

Special Forces Detachment who does not have the basic skills all the organic 

detachment members possess. Rare exceptions to this “rule” are the Air Force’s 

Combat Control Teams (CCTs) and some other unique servicemen who are 

occasionally attached to Special Forces teams. Th e CCTs and others are already 

well-versed in small unit tactics, amplify the team’s capabilities, and do not get 

in the team’s way.

Th e scenario returns to the dilemma confronting the Special Forces team 

which has been in the desert for a long time on a cold, rainy night and has been 

seeking a new interrogation doctrine that conforms to its needs. Th e team has 

found only FM 2-22.3, and although it is ambiguous and disempowering, the 

Pentagon has invested too much eff ort in developing it to discard it now.

Th e words of “James,” one of Britain’s most experienced interrogators in 

Northern Ireland, should serve as a warning. Due to fear of reprisals, James now 

lives in an undisclosed location along the Mediterranean. James had no interrogation training and proudly boasts that “We did not torture.” In 1979 the British 

government decided to reform its interrogation practices in Northern Ireland 

and introduced restrictions:

451 FM 2-22.3, 5-14.
214 |

“Every time they changed the rules, it was to benefi t murdering terrorists,” James said, grinding the word “terrorists” with 

his teeth. “We got no protection. Next we’ll be tried as war 

criminals.”452

Our own most recent rule change limiting who can conduct interrogations has benefi ted the terrorists. It is now time to make a change to our doctrine that benefi ts our soldiers and our war eff ort.

Unfortunate Reality

Th e scenario described above is the same one Mark Bowen discussed 

in his article “Th e Dark Art of Interrogation,” in which he interviews Jessica 

Montell, the executive director of B’Tselem, a human rights advocacy group in 

Jerusalem.

If I as an interrogator feel that the person in front of me has 

information that can prevent a catastrophe from happening... 

I imagine that I would do what I would have to do in order to 

prevent that catastrophe from happening. Th e state’s obligation is then to put me on trial, for breaking the law. Th en I 

come and say these are the facts that I had at my disposal. Th is 

is what I believed at the time. Th is is what I thought necessary 

to do. I can evoke the defense of necessity, and then the court 

decides whether or not it’s reasonable that I broke the law in 

order to avert this catastrophe. But it has to be that I broke the 

law. It can’t be that there’s some prior license for me to abuse 

people.453

In the situation confronting our Special Forces soldiers, the act of conducting an interrogation is the off ense, not the use of torture. As long as it 

remains against doctrine for soldiers to conduct interrogations, the soldier who 

engages in such operations must accept the risk. He must be prepared to stand 

up in court or before Congress, if necessary, and defend his actions. Special 

Forces soldiers will still use interrogation, because in some cases they will deem 

it worth the consequences. Still, many of them do not even fully understand the 

policy. Th is does not mean they will necessarily be punished. In any nation the 

decision to prosecute a crime is an executive one. A prosecutor, commander, or 

lawmaker must decide to press charges, and the likelihood that a soldier who 

452 Blumenfeld, Tortured.

453 Bowden, The Dark Art.
| 215

conducted a humane interrogation would be prosecuted, much less convicted, 

is very small.454

Th is debate is not about torture. Torture must remain illegal. Any interrogators who engage in torture would do so at their own risk, knowing they would 

be accountable to the full weight of the law. Instead, the issue raised in this study 

centers on allowing one group of soldiers to do what another group is already 

authorized to do. Th e current doctrine does not meet the President’s promise of 

“give[ing] them the tools they need. And that is clear law.” Th e law is now clear; 

current DoD doctrine is not.

454 Bowden, The Dark Art.

| 217

APPENDIX A

| 219

APPENDIX B

| 221

APPENDIX C 
222 |

APPENDIX C (Continued)
| 223

APPENDIX D

| 225

APPENDIX E

| 227

APPENDIX F

| 229

APPENDIX G

| 231

APPENDIX H

| 233

APPENDIX I 
234 |

APPENDIX I (Continued)
| 235

APPENDIX J 
236 |

APPENDIX J (Continued)
| 237

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

“A Scrap of Paper.” M14.1, 30 May 1945. Training Records of the MITC. 

Records of the War Department General and Special Staff s, Records 

Group 165. NARA, College Park, MD.

A source, high-level intelligence professional at a national intelligence 

organization, who was interviewed on a non-attribution basis. 

Interviewed by the author, September 2006.

A source, high-level Special Forces Offi cer serving in a position that oversees 

SF training, who was interviewed on a non-attribution basis. 

Interviewed by the author, November 2006.

Abend, Hallett. “Japan’s Soldiers – Unsoldierly Yet Fanatic.” New York Times 

(1857 – Current fi le), 11 January 1942, SM12. Accessed via ProQuest 

Historical Newspapers on 27 January 2007.

“Army Releases New Interrogation Manual,” ARNews. 6 September 2006. 

Army News Service. URL:<www4.army.mil/ocpa/story_id_

key=9525>. Accessed 7 September 2006. 

Banfi ll, Charles Y., Brigadier General, U.S. Army, Commandant, Military 

Intelligence Training Center, G-2. Memorandum to the Deputy 

Assistant Chief of Staff , G-2. Subject: “Brief of Pertinent Facts and 

Data Concerning the Military Intelligence Training Center, Camp 

Ritchie, Maryland.” 3 June 1944. Training Records of the MITC. 

Records of the War Department General and Special Staff s, Records 

Group 165. NARA, College Park, MD.

Barnes, Julian E. “Army Manual to Skip Geneva Detainee Rule,” Los Angeles 

Times, 5 June 2006.

Bemis, Bert. “U.S. Navy Men Learn Japanese at School in Rockies.” Christian 

Science Monitor (1908-Current fi le), 21 August 1942, 13. Accessed via 

ProQuest Historical Newspapers on 3 May 2007.

Benedict, Ruth. Th e Chrysanthemum and the Sword: Patterns of Japanese 

Culture. Boston: First Mariner Books, 2005.

Bissell, Clayton, Major General, U.S. Army. Assistant Chief of Staff , G-2. 

Memorandum to the Commandant, Military Intelligence Service 

Language School. Subject: “Policy Directive, Military Intelligence 
238 |

Service Language School.” MID 908. 22 March 1944. Offi ce of the 

Director of Intelligence Correspondence and Reports. Records of 

the War Department General and Special Staff s, Records Group 165. 

NARA, College Park, MD.

Bissell, Clayton, Major General, U.S. Army. Assistant Chief of Staff , G-2. 

Memorandum to the Chief of Staff . Subject: “Procurement of 

Personnel Profi cient in Japanese Language for Employment 

as Translators, Interpreters and Interrogators.” MID 350.03 

(Japanese). 22 March 1944. Offi ce of the Director of Intelligence 

Correspondence and Reports. Records of the War Department 

General and Special Staff s, Records Group 165. NARA, College Park, 

MD.

Blumenfeld, Laura. “Th e Tortured Lives of Interrogators.” Th e Washington 

Post, 4 June 2007. URL:<www.washingtonpost.com/wpdyn/content/

article/2007/06/03/ AR2007060301121.html>. Accessed 4 June 2007. 

Bowden, Mark. “Th e Dark Art of Interrogation.” Th e Atlantic Monthly Online. 

October 2003. URL:<www.theatlantic.com/200310/bowden>. 

Accessed 16 March 2007. 

Bowden, Mark. “The Ploy.” The Atlantic. May 2003.

Bradley, James. Flyboys: A True Story of Courage. Boston: Little, Brown and 

Company, 2003.

Burden, John A., Captain, U.S. Army. “Interrogation of Japanese Prisoners in 

the Southwest Pacifi c: Intelligence Memo No. 4.” 22 July 1943. Enemy 

Prisoner of War Interrogation Files (MIS-Y), 1943—1945. Records of 

the War Department General and Special Staff s, Record Group 165, 

NARA, College Park, MD. 

Bush, George W. President of the United States. “Press Conference of the 

President,” speech presented at the Rose Garden of the White House. 

Washington. DC. 15 September 2006. URL:<www.whitehouse.gov/

news/release/2006/09.html>. Accessed 18 September 2006.

Bush, George W., President of the United States. “President Discusses Creation 

of Military Commissions to Try Suspected Terrorists.” Briefi ng 

presented at the White House, Washington, DC, 6 September 2006. 

URL: www.whitehouse. gov/news/releases/2006/09/20060906-3.html. 

Accessed 2 February 2007.

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)
| 239

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)

Bush, George W., President of the United States. “President’s Military Order re: 

Detention, Treatment, and Trial of Certain Non-Citizens in the War 

Against Terrorism,” 13 November 2001. 

 “Campaigns of the Pacifi c” collection. National Japanese American Historical 

Society website. URL: <www.nikkeiheritage.org/misnorcal/campaigns/

campaigns_ cbi.htm#merrill>. Accessed 7 May 2007.

Central Intelligence Agency. “Kubark: Counterintelligence Interrogation.” 

July 1963. URL:<www.kimsoft .com/2000/kubark.htm>. Accessed 7 

December 2006.

Colby, William, with James McCargar. Lost Victory: A Firsthand Account 

of America’s Sixteen Year Involvement in Vietnam. Chicago: 

Contemporary Books, 1989.

“Colorful Commencement Held For Naval Japanese Language Students,” 

Boulder Camera, 1, 16 January 1943.

Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading 

Treatment or Punishment. 10 December 1984; S. Treaty Doc. No. 

100-20 (1988). 1465 U.N.T.S. 113; United States Reservations. 

URL<:www.ohchr.org/english/law/ pdf/cat.pdf>. Accessed 7 

December 2006.

Crost, Lyn. Honor by Fire: Japanese Americans at War in Europe and the 

Pacifi c. Novato, CA: Presidio Press, 1994.

Cutter, Natela. “Beefi ng Up Language Skills.” Soldiers 62, no. 4 (2007), 4+. 

Accessed via ProQuest, 29 May 2007.

Danner, Mark. Torture and Truth: America, Abu Ghraib, and the War on 

Terror. New York: New York Review Books, 2004. 

DeForest, Jean. Former wife of Orrin DeForest. Telephonic interview by the 

researcher, 8 July 2007.

DeForest, Orrin, and David Chanoff . Slow Burn: Th e Rise and Bitter Fall of 

American Intelligence in Vietnam. New York: Simon and Schuster, 

1990.

DeForest-Booth, Julie. Daughter of Orrin DeForest. Telephonic interview by 

the researcher, 8 July 2007.
240 |

DeKoven, Seymour. “Our Enemy’s Strength.” Th e Washington Post (1877 – 

1990), 21 December 1941, B6+. Accessed via ProQuest Historical 

Newspapers on 21 February 2007.

Department of the Army. Vietnam Studies: Th e Role of Military Intelligence, 

1965-1967. Written by Major General Joseph A. McChristian. 

Washington, DC, 1994.

Department of the Army. U.S. Army Intelligence and Interrogation Handbook: 

Th e Offi cial Guide on Prisoner Interrogation. Guilford, CT: Th e Lyons 

Press, 2005. 

Dorril, Stephen. “Th e Modern-Day Spy.” Th e Observer, 16 May 1999.

Dower, John W. War Without Mercy: Race and Power in the Pacifi c War. New 

York: Pantheon Books, 1986.

“Eyes and Ears of Allied Pacifi c Drive: Nisei Won Spurs – and Medals.” 

Christian Science Monitor (1908 – 1993), 9 Nov 1945, 11. Accessed 

via ProQuest Historical Newspapers on 17 January 2007.

Fein, Robert. Chair of the Intelligence Science Board Study on Educing 

Information. Unclassifi ed presentation for NDIC, May 2007.

Final Report of the Independent Panel to Review DoD Detention Operations. 

“Review of DoD Detention Operations,” August 2004.

Ford, Harold P. CIA and the Vietnam Policymakers: Th ree Episodes 1962–1968. 

Central Intelligence Agency, Center for the Study of Intelligence, 

1998.

Ford, Ronnie E. Tet 1968: Understanding the Surprise. London: Frank Cass & 

Co., 1995.

Furuiye, Nobuo, and Brandt, Clarke M. I Am MIS. Aurora: Defense Printing 

Service, 1999.

Geneva Convention. Convention III. “Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of 

War.” Geneva, Switzerland, 12 August 1949.

Glaser, Barney G., and Anselm L. Strauss. Discovery of Grounded Th eory: 

Strategies for Qualitative Research. New York: Aldine de Gruyter, 

1967.

Gonzales, Alberto R. Memorandum for the President. Subject: “Decision RE 

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)
| 241

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)

Application of the Geneva Convention on Prisoners of War to the 

Confl ict with Al Qaeda and the Taliban,” 25 January 2005.

Headquarters, Army Air Forces. Mission Accomplished: Interrogation of 

Japanese Industrial, Military, and Civil Leaders of World War II. 

Washington, DC: GPO, 1946.

Herrington, Stuart A. “Eff ective Interrogation without Torture 101, from 

retired Army Colonel Stuart Herrington.” Interview by Hugh 

Hewitt on the Hugh Hewitt Show, online blog (13 February 

2007). URL: <http://hughhewitt.townhall.com/ Transcript_Page.

aspx?ContentGuid=b0d450ff -7a6d-41ca-b855-a93127f6eed7>. 

Accessed 9 July 2007. 

Herrington, Stuart A. Silence Was a Weapon: Th e Vietnam War in the Villages. 

Novato, CA: Presidio Press, 1982.

Herrington, Stuart A. Telephonic interview by the researcher, 9 July 2007.

Hersh, Seymour M. “Annals of National Security: Th e General’s Report.” New 

Yorker Magazine, 25 June 2007.

Hindmarsh, Albert E., Commander, USNR. “Navy School of Oriental 

Languages: History, Organization and Administration.” n.d. 

Historical Files of Navy Training Activities. Records of the Bureau of 

Naval Personnel, Records Group 24. NARA, College Park, MD.

Hirabayashi, Grant. Graduate of the Military Intelligence Service Language 

School and Military Intelligence Service interrogator during World 

War II. Interview by the author, 27 January 2007. 

Hoare, Oliver. Camp 020: MI5 and the Nazi Spies. Richmond: Public Record 

Offi ce, 2000.

“‘How-to’ Manual Found in Al Qaeda Safe House Shows Disturbing Torture 

Methods,” Fox News, 27 May 2007. URL:<www.foxnews.com/

story/0,2933,275341,00.html>. Accessed 28 May 2007.

Hughes-Wilson, John. Military Intelligence Blunders and Cover-Ups. New York: 

Carol & Graf Publishers, 1999.

Hui-Yu Caroline Ts’ai. One Kind of Control: Th e ‘Hoko’ System in Taiwan 

Under Japanese Rule, 1895-1945. Online Ph.D. Dissertation. New 

York: Columbia University, 1990. URL: <digitalcommons.libraries.
242 |

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)

columbia.edu/dissertations/ AAI9127988/>. Accessed 14 June 2007.

INSCOM Brief. “Interrogation Law for Interrogators,” 1 February 2005.

Intelligence Science Board Study on Educing Information. Phase I Report. 

Educing Information: Science and Art in Interrogation, Foundations 

for the Future. Washington, DC: National Defense Intelligence 

College, 2006. 

Jandl, Th omas. “Religious Rights in Vietnam: Dialogue and Engagement Yield 

Continued Progress.” International Reports.net by Th e Washington 

Times. URL: http://www.internationalreports.net/special/vietnam/

religion/html. Accessed 23 January 2007.

Jandl, Th omas. “Vietnam MIAs: A Bargain Kept Paves Way for Cooperation.” 

InternationalReports.net by Th e Washington Times. URL: http://

www.internalreports/net/special/vietnam/mia.html>. Accessed 23 

January 2007.

Johnson, Loch K., and James J. Wirtz. Strategic Intelligence: Windows into a 

Secret World. Los Angeles: Roxbury Publishing Company, 2004.

Johnson, William R. “Tricks of the Trade: Counterintelligence Interrogation. 

Th e International Journal of Intelligence and CounterIntelligence 1, no. 

2 (1986), 103-113.

Jones, Bruce E. War Without Windows. New York: Vanguard Press, Inc., 1990.

Kleinman, Major Steven M., USAFR. Th e History of MIS-Y: U.S. Strategic 

Interrogation during World War I. MSSI Th esis chaired by David M. 

Keithly. Washington, DC: Joint Military Intelligence College, July 

2002. Korean War, 2d rev. ed. Brainerd: J-Press, 1999.

Koubi, Michael. “Th e Enforcer.” Interview by Michael Bond in New Scientist, 

online ed. (22 November 2004). URL: http://www.freerepublic.com/

focus/f-chat/1285748/posts. Accessed 24 May 2007.

Levgold, Joseph. “Interrogating Ourselves.” New York Times Magazine, 12 June 

2005.

Levin, Daniel. Offi ce of Legal Counsel. Memorandum Opinion for the Deputy 

Attorney General. Subject: “Legal Standards Applicable Under 18 

U.S.C.2340-2340A.” 30 December 2004.
| 243

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)

“MacArthur Aide Says Yanks Must Be Taught to Hate Foe.” Th e Washington 

Post (1877 – 1990), 3 October 1942, 2. Accessed via ProQuest 

Historical Newspapers on 27 January 2007.

MacDonald, Heather. “How to Interrogate Terrorists.” City Journal, Winter 

2005. URL:<www.city-journal.org/html/15_1_terrorists.html>. 

Accessed. 16 March 2007.

Mackey, Chris, and Greg Miller. Th e Interrogators: Task Force 500 and 

America’s Secret War Against Al Qaeda. New York: Little, Brown and 

Company, 2004.

Martin, David. “Civilian Casualties: ‘What A Horrendous Number Th at 

Is.’” CBS News, 9 July 2007. URL: <http://www.cbsnews.com/

blogs/2007/07/09/couricandco/entry3033134.shtml>. Accessed 11 July 

2007.

Mayer, Jane. “Whatever it Takes: Th e Politics of the Man behind ‘24’.” Th e 

New Yorker, 19 February 2007. URL: <http:/www.newyorker.com/

reporting/2007/02/19/070219fa_fact_mayer? printable=true>. 

Accessed 16 March 2007.

“Military Commissions to Try Suspected Terrorists.” Briefi ng presented at the 

White House, Washington, D.C., 6 September 2006. URL: <www.

whitehouse. gov/news/releases/2006/09/20060906-3.html>. Accessed 2 

February 2007.

Miller, Greg. “Bound by Convention.” Stanford Magazine. November/

December 2004. Monitor (1908-Current fi le), 21 August 1942, 13. 

Accessed via ProQuest Historical Newspapers on 3 May 2007, 13.

Moore, Brenda L. Serving our Country: Japanese American Women in 

the Military During World War II. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers 

University Press, 2003.

Moran, Sherwood F., Major, U.S. Marine Corps. Letter titled “Suggestions 

For Japanese Interpreters Based on Work in the Field,” 17 July 1943. 

Training Records of MITC, Camp Ritchie. Records of the War 

Department General and Special Staff s, Record Group 165. NARA, 

College Park, MD. Th e original source document is located at the 

Alfred M. Gray Research Center (USMC Archives) of the Marine 

Corps University in Quantico, VA. URL: http://www.mcu.usmc.mil/

MCRCweb/
244 |

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)

Moran, Sherwood F., Major, U.S. Marine Corps. “Th e Psychology of the 

Japanese,” 4 June 1942. Training Records of MITC, Camp Ritchie, 

MD. Records of the War Department General and Special Staff s, 

Record Group 165. NARA, College Park, MD. 

Moran, Sherwood F., Major, U.S. Marine Corps Reserve. Letter entitled 

Suggestions for Japanese Interpreters based on Work in the Field, 17 

July 1943. 

Moskowitz, Andrew K. “‘Scared Stiff ’: Catatonia as an Evolutionary-Based 

Fear Response.” Psychological Review, 2004. Vol. 111, No. 4, 1984.

Nakasone, Edwin M. Th e Nisei Soldier: Historical Essays on World War II and 

the Korean War, 2d rev. ed. Brainerd: J-Press, 1999.

Navy Department, Bureau of Navigation. Subject: “Establishment of Japanese 

Language Course of Instruction at Harvard University and the 

University of California at Berkeley,” 26 August 1941. Historical 

Files of Navy Training Activities. Records of the Bureau of Naval 

Personnel, Records Group 24. NARA, College Park, MD. 

Offi ce of Legal Counsel. Memorandum for Alberto R. Gonzales, Counsel to 

the President. Subject RE: “Standards of Conduct for Interrogation 

under 18 U.S.C. 2340-2340A,” 1 August 2002. 

Oguro, Richard S. Sempai Gumi: Manuscript Collection of the First Group of 

AJAs from Hawaii and American Concentration Camps to Attend 

Army Language School at Camp Savage, Minnesota. Library of Etsu 

and Mike Masaoka and the University of Utah Libraries, Salt Lake 

City, Utah, n.d. 

Paust, Jordan. “Th e Common Plan to Violate the Geneva Conventions.” Jurist 

Legal Intelligence. University of Houston Law Center, 25 May 2004. 

URL:<jurist.law.pitt.edu/forum/paust2.php>. Accessed 1 June 2007. 

Porter, Cliff ord. Asymmetrical Warfare, Transformation, and Foreign Language 

Capability. Fort Leavenworth, KS: U.S. Army Command and 

General Staff College, Combat Studies Institute, March 2002. URL: 

<www-cgsc.army.mil/carl/ download/csipubs/porter.pdf>. Accessed 

29 May 2007. 

Powell, Colin L. Memorandum for Assistant to the President for National 

Security Aff airs. Subject: “Draft Decision Memorandum for the 
| 245

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)

President on Applicability of the Geneva Convention to the Confl ict 

in Afghanistan,” 26 January 2002. 

Powers, David. “Japan: No Surrender in World War Two.” BBC (June 2001). 

Online report. URL: <www.bbc.co.uk/history/worldwars/wwtwo/

japan_no_surrender_ 01.shtml>. Accessed 22 February 2007. 

Pregent, COL Richard, USA. Staff Judge Advocate, U.S. Intelligence and 

Security Command. “Interrogation Law for Interrogators,” 1 

February 2005.

Pribbenow, Merle L. “Th e Man in the Snow White Cell: Limits to 

Interrogation,” Studies in Intelligence 48, no. 1, 2004. URL:<www.cia.

gov/csi/studies/vol48no1/ article06.html>. Accessed 7 December 2006.

Priest, Dana, and R. Jeff rey Smith. “Memo Off ered Justifi cation for Use of 

Torture: Justice Dept. Gave Advice in 2002.” Th e Washington Post, 8 

June 2004, A01.

Rasmussen, Kai E., Colonel, U.S. Army. Commandant, MISLS. Memorandum 

to the Assistant Chief of Staff , G-2. Subject: “Future Requirements 

of Language Specialists (Japanese),” 20 March 1944. Offi ce of the 

Director of Intelligence Correspondence and Reports. Records of 

the War Department General and Special Staff s, Records Group 165. 

NARA, College Park, MD. 

Sanchez, LTG Ricardo, USA. Memorandum for Combined Joint Task Force 

Seven. Baghdad, Iraq, and Commander, 205th Military Intelligence 

Brigade. Subject: “CJTF-7 Interrogation and Counter-Resistance 

Policy,” 12 October 2003. 

Sanchez, LTG Ricardo, USA. Memorandum for Commander, U.S. Central 

Command. Subject: “CJTF-7 Interrogation and Counter-Resistance 

Policy,” 14 September 2003. 

Schmitt, Eric. “New Army Rules May Snarl Talks With McCain on Detainee 

Issue,” Th e New York Times, 14 December 2005. URL:< www.nytimes.

com/2005/12/14/ politics/14detain.html>. Accessed 13 June 2007. 

Seeley, Christopher. “Th e 20th Century Japanese Writing System: Reform and 

Change.” Th e Journal of Simplifi ed Spelling Society J19 (1995). URL: 

<www. spellingsociety.org/journals/j19/japanese.php>. Accessed 5 

February 2007. 
246 |

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)

Sewell, H.S., Brigadier General, U.S. Army. “Th e Japanese Soldier,” June 1944. 

Offi ce of the Director of Intelligence Correspondence and Reports. 

Records of the War Department General and Special Staff s, Record 

Group 165. NARA, College Park, MD. 

Snepp, Frank. Decent Interval. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2002.

Sontag, Susan. “Regarding the Torture of Others,” New York Times Magazine, 

23 May 2004.

South-East Asia Translation and Interrogation Center. “Interrogation Bulletin 

No. 1.” 19 

December 1944. Records of the War Department General and Special Staff s, 

Record Group 165. NARA, College Park, MD. 

“Statistical Information about Casualties of the Vietnam Confl ict.” National 

Archives and Records Administration website. URL: http://www.

archives.gov/research/vietnam-war/casualty-statistics.html#year.

Accessed 12 June 2007.

Stephens, R.W.G. Camp 020: MI5 and the Nazi Spies. Ed. Oliver Hoare. 

London: United Kingdom Public Record Offi ce, 2000.

Straus, Ulrich. Anguish of Surrender: Japanese POWs of World War II. Seattle: 

University of Washington Press, 2003.

Supreme Court of the United States. “Hamdan v. Rumsfeld, Secretary Of 

Defense, Et Al.” Certiorari to Th e United States Court Of Appeals For 

Th e District Of Columbia Circuit. No. 05–184. Argued March 28, 

2006—Decided June 29, 2006. October Term, 2005.

 “Th e Japanese-Americans.” Th e Washington Post (1974-Current fi le), 15 July 

1981, A21+. Accessed via ProQuest Historical Newspapers on 16 

January 2007.

“Th e Military Intelligence Service Language School.” n.d. Correspondence and 

Reports Relating to the Operation of Language Schools, 1943-1949. 

Records of the War Department General and Special Staff s, Record 

Group 165. NARA, College Park, MD.

The Oxford Dictionary of World Religions, 1997. 

“Th e Psychology of Surrender and the Psychological Approach to 

Interrogation.” 14 August 1946. Offi ce of the Director of Intelligence 
| 247

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)

Correspondence and Reports. Records of the War Department 

General and Special Staff s, Record Group 165. NARA, College Park, 

MD.

“Th e Savages.” Th e Wall Street Journal, 22 June 2006, A16+. Accessed via 

ProQuest on 11 February 2007. 

Th e Tet Off ensive. Eds. Marc Jason Gilbert and William Head. Westport, CT: 

Praeger Publishers, 1996.

Th omas, Troy S., and William D. Casebeer. Violent Systems: Defeating 

Terrorists, Insurgents, and Other Non-State Adversaries. Occasional 

Paper 52. Colorado Springs, CO: U.S. Air Force Institute for National 

Security Studies, March 2004.

Th ompson, Erwin N. Attu Battlefi eld and U.S. Army and Navy Airfi elds on 

Attu: Aleutian Islands. 1984. URL: <www.cr.nps.gov/nr/TwHP/

wwwlps/lessons/ 7attu/7facts1.htm>. Accessed 11 May 07.

Toliver, Raymond F., with Hanns J. Scharff . Th e Interrogator: Th e Story of 

Hanns Scharff , Luft waff e’s Master Interrogator. 1978.

Tourison, Jr., Sedgwick D. Interview by the researcher, 14 July 2007.

Tourison, Jr., Sedgwick D. Talking with Victor Charlie: An Interrogator’s Story. 

New York: Ballantine Books, 1991.

Tourison, Jr., Sedgwick D. Telephonic interview by the researcher, 30 June 

2007.

Tourison, Ping. Wife of Sedgwick Tourison, Jr. Telephonic interview by the 

researcher, 28 June 2007.

Tracy, W.A., Captain, Headquarters, Army Ground Forces, Assistant Ground 

Adjutant General. Memorandum to the Commanding Generals. 

Subject: “Intelligence Extracts of Special Action Reports – Saipan.” 

319.1/172. 24 January 1945. Correspondence and Reports Relating to 

the Operation of Language Schools, 1943 – 1949. Records of the War 

Department General and Special Staff s, Record Group 165. NARA, 

College Park, MD.

U.S. Army. Field Manual (FM) 2-22.3. Human Intelligence Collection 

Operations. Washington, DC: Department of the Army, September 

2006. 
248 |

BIBLIOGRAPHY (Continued)

U.S. Army. Special Text (ST) 2-91.6. Small Unit Support to Intelligence. Fort 

Huachuca, AZ: U.S. Army Intelligence Center, March 2004.

U.S. Department of Defense. “Deployment of Military Personnel by Country 

as of 30 September 1968.” URL: http://siadapp.dmdc.osd.mil/

personnel/MILITARY/history/hst0968.xls. Accessed 11 June 2007.

“Veterans Call for Justice for Agent Orange Victims in Vietnam.” Veterans 

Today. URL: < http:www.veteranstoday.com/printout944.html>. 

Accessed 23 January 2007.

Walton, Richard. Oral presentation of Nguyen Tai case study to ISB Educing 

Information working group at NDIC, 16 December 2006.

“Wartime Fanaticism.” Christian Science Monitor (1908 – Current fi le), 12 

December 1941, 24. Accessed via ProQuest Historical Newspapers 

on 27 January 2007. 

Yin, Robert K. Case Study Research: Design and Methods, 3rd ed. Th ousand 

Oaks. CA: Sage Publications, 2003.
| 249

INDEX

A

Abu Ghraib 1, 4, 128, 147, 154, 159, 162-164, 175, 199, 208

Afghanistan 10, 79, 115, 137, 153, 157, 158, 161, 162, 165, 167, 199, 201, 208

Al Qaeda 2, 3, 10-13, 15, 77, 155, 157-159, 169-171 

B

Bushido 31-33, 51, 73

C

Cary, Otis 24, 60-64, 68, 70, 73

Case studies 20, 65, 74, 81-83, 94, 102, 139, 142

Combat Control Team (CCT) 213

Combatant 5, 8, 79, 82, 91, 96, 99, 140, 142, 144, 153, 157, 164

Combined Intelligence Center—Vietnam 83

Counterinsurgency 4-6, 14, 79-81, 105, 113, 128, 139, 141, 145

Counterintelligence 35, 39, 78, 90, 92, 95, 98, 128, 130, 138, 139

Counterintelligence Corps, Army 35

Cultural understanding/awareness 20, 37, 68, 78

D

Defense Language Institute Foreign Language Center 47, 66, 104

Detainee Detention Act 197, 198

E

Educing information 2, 19, 23, 25, 65, 74, 78, 88, 116, 144, 145

Executive Order (EO), Presidential 8, 19, 23, 38

F

Field Manual (FM), Army 1-3, 9, 15, 147, 150, 164, 167, 207

Fourth Army Intelligence School 37, 41

G

Geneva Convention(s) 6, 8, 51, 71, 96, 150, 155-158, 168, 197, 240, 241

Global War on Terrorism (or Terror) 2, 10, 13, 14, 17, 19, 75, 77, 147, 167

Guantanamo Bay 7, 13, 128, 157, 201
250 |

H

Hara-kari 30, 34, 52, 61

Hirabayashi, Grant J. 49-53, 67, 72, 73

Hoko 31-33

Human intelligence (HUMINT) 1, 2, 7, 9, 13, 34, 65, 77, 80, 110, 138, 144, 

145, 150

Human rights 15, 27, 128, 159, 214

I

Intelligence Science Board (ISB) 2, 74, 78, 88, 144, 145

Issei 44

Issen gorin 27

K

Kamikaze 28, 29

Kibei 38, 48, 66, 69

Koubi, Michael 83, 100-102

L

Language training 17, 45, 46, 60, 102, 104, 105, 116, 140

Law of War 6, 9, 157

Luft waff e 98

M

Merrill’s Marauders 49

MI5 79, 95, 96

Military Intelligence Service Language School (MISLS), Army 18, 20, 23, 35, 

37, 38, 41-50, 53, 69

Moran, Sherwood F. 25, 26, 29, 30, 71, 83, 99, 100, 102

Motivation 33, 62, 78, 87, 88, 102, 115, 141, 178

N

National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) 22, 63, 74

National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) 8

Nisei 19, 23, 35-48, 52, 57, 66-72

Noncombatant 5

Northern Ireland 213

INDEX (Continued)
| 251

O

Oriental Language School, Navy 20, 70

P

Phoenix Program 83, 116, 117, 119, 121

Prisoner of War (POW) 15, 19, 22, 26, 35, 40, 51-53, 61, 63, 69, 73, 74, 114, 

123-125, 155, 157

Propaganda 17, 33, 63, 73, 111, 119

R

Recruitment 17, 23, 43, 54, 66-68, 83, 121, 123, 132, 136, 138, 143

Reid Technique 197, 210

S

Scharff , Hanns 83, 97, 98, 102, 128, 141

Shinto 31, 33

Special Forces 147-154, 165, 166, 194, 195, 198, 199, 202, 203, 207-214

Stephens, R.W.G. 79, 83, 94-96, 102, 139

Stool pigeon 92, 98, 125

Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE) 10, 11, 195

T

Taliban 155, 157-159

Torture 1, 3-6, 13-15, 25, 33, 73, 94, 101, 132, 150, 158-160, 164, 167-171, 199, 

203-206, 209, 211, 213-215

U

U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM) 149, 153, 163, 212

U.S. Southern Command (SOUTHCOM) 160-162

W

War crimes (trials) 6, 22, 53, 158, 160

Waterboarding/Water Cure 2-7, 10, 12-14

Y

Yin, Robert K. 20, 21, 23, 81

INDEX (Continued)

| 253

ABOUT THE AUTHORS 

James A. Stone, a military Special Agent with the U.S. Air Force Offi ce of Special 

Investigations (AFOSI), has served on active duty over 20 years. In this capacity, 

his primary responsibilities include identifi cation, exploitation, and neutralization of criminal, terrorist, and espionage threats to the Air Force, the Department 

of Defense, and the U.S. government. He has completed numerous assignments 

both within the United States and overseas and supported wartime operations during Operations DESERT SHIELD, DESERT STORM, and IRAQI FREEDOM. SA 

Stone is currently assigned as Commander, AFOSI Detachment 207, at Whiteman 

Air Force Base, Missouri. He graduated from Friends University in Wichita, Kansas, 

with a bachelor’s degree in organizational management and leadership. He earned 

his master’s degree in strategic intelligence from the National Defense Intelligence 

College (NDIC). He and his wife Deana have a daughter, Leah.

David P. Shoemaker is a civilian Special Agent with AFOSI. He is currently assigned 

to OSI Headquarters at Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland, where he serves as Program Manager for Counterintelligence Investigations. Aft er earning a bachelor’s degree 

in political science and English literature at Indiana University, he joined AFOSI in 

1999 as an economic crimes investigator. He subsequently conducted and supervised 

a diverse array of criminal and counterintelligence investigations during both domestic and overseas postings. Th ese investigative experiences heightened SA Shoemaker’s 

appreciation for the art and science of educing information and stimulated his graduate research at NDIC, where he earned his master’s degree in strategic intelligence. His 

interests include adventure sports, mountain landscapes, economics, and U.S. history. 

He and his wife Leah have a son, Aston.

Nicholas R. Dotti is a U.S. Army major currently serving with Special Operations 

Command Central at MacDill Air Force Base, Florida, as Chief of the J8 Programs 

Division. He was commissioned in 1997 aft er graduating from Norwich University 

with a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. Aft er two tours of duty, one of them in 

Korea, he was accepted for Special Forces training. In addition to completing the Special Forces Qualifi cation Course, he is also a graduate of the following highly selective schools and courses: Ranger; Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE); 

Airborne; Jumpmaster; and Military Freefall Parachutist. He speaks Serbian and has 

a working knowledge of Arabic. MAJ Dotti has completed two combat tours in Iraq 

as Commander of a Special Forces Operational Detachment, for which he earned the 

Bronze Star medal. He subsequently graduated from NDIC with a master’s degree in 

strategic intelligence. He continues to focus his studies on tactical interrogations and 

Kurdish issues when not spending time with his wife, Martha, and their children, 

Maggie and John.