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ARTICLE APPEARED
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Friends Recall Fired Aide
LOS ANGELES TIMES
1 March 1987
North TendedFrom
Start to. Go Too Far
By MAURA DOLAN and RICHARD E. MEYER, Times Staff Writers
WASHINGTON-Ollie never knows when to stop.
He is a striver. He turns tasks into challenges; his
obsessions. Ollie North drives himself to excess.
He is a mer. His charm
comes from charisma and confi-
dence. But he can be calculating.
By some accounts, there are times
when Ollie North is manipulative.
He usually tells the truth. But
sometimes the plain truth isn't
enough. Other times he contami-
nates reality with disinformation.
Some of what he says is curious;
some is bizarre. Occasionally, Ollie
North lies.
He is a prodigious doer, and he
does each job exceptionally well.
But he loses sight, from time to
time, of the whole picture, particu-
larly its political shadings.
Born In Texas
Oliver Laurence North, 43, was
born in San Antonio, Tex He grew
up in Philmont, N.Y. He attended
private and public schools, gradu-
ated from the U.S. Naval Academy,
entered the Marine Corps, served
in Vietnam, taught tactics and
advanced to the rank of lieutenant
colonel. He was selected to work at
the White House, on the staff of the
National Security Council, in the
Administration of President Rea-
gan. He played a central role in the
events that have created the Presi-
dent's most traumatic scandal.
Reagan called him "a national
hero." He also fired him.
There is little on the surface of
North's life that tells how he came
to play the role that will bring him
back to center stage in the weeks to
come. when special committees of
Congress begin their nationally
televised investigation into the
Iran-contra affair.
In an initial appearance before
Congress last December, North
declined to answer questions, in-
voking his Fifth Amendment privi -
lege against self-incrimination. He
declined a request by The Times
for an interview. But discussions
about North with his friends, his
colleagues and his sister reveal a
man whose personality made him a
natural for the part he has played
in this drama.
Whether he acted under direct
orders or failed supervision, North
is a man who was inclined from the
very start to go too far.
0
Early on, he was expected to
excel. The eldest of four children,
he grew up in a home that stressed
education and achievement.
Neighbors in Philmont, a small
blue-collar village, say everyone
expected the North children to go
to college. It was that kind of
family.
North's parents assumed leader-
ship roles in their community. Ann
Clancy North, a tall woman who
wore her prematurely gray hair
with pride, was an outgoing,
strong-willed mother. Neighbors
say she taught occasionally as a
substitute, served as a library
trustee, participated in the PTA,
collected for charities and volun-
teered at Sacred Heart, the family's
parish church.
North was named Oliver after his
father, Oliver Clay North. To pre-
vent confusion, the son went by his
middle name, Larry. Oliver Clay
North was less gregarious than his
wife but equally intense. He ?rarlll
ated from the prestigious Wharton
School of Finance and Commerce,
entered the Army, became a lieu-
tenant colonel and earned Wa Silver
ar II.
Star for valor during d
But instead of pursuing a career in
high finance or the military, he
returned to Philmont after the war
to help run the family wool-comb-
ing mill.
When Larry was in ninth grade,
his parents put him in a Christian
Bros. military academy that re-
quired a 3' -hour round-trip com-
mute. When he returned to local
public schools after a year, he
worked so hard that teachers gave
him extra credit for his effort.
"If he had an 89 average, you'd
give him a 90," says history teacher
Robert Bowes. .
English teacher Thomas Gibbons
recalls that North competed with
everybody, particularly with his
girlfriend, who at graduation was
voted "class brain" and "most
likely to succeed." Larry was voted
"nicest looking" and "most courte-
ous."
North won a scholarship to State
University of New York, College at
Brockport, Upstate, and considered
becoming a teacher like his mother.
But he also wanted the military life
that had eluded his father. Instead
of the Army, he selected the Ma-
rine Corps and participated in an
officer -training program on cam-
pus.
Right Connections
He yearned to go to the U.S.
Naval Academy at Annapolis, Md.,
but it seemed out of reach until he
met a fellow student with the right
connections. The student's father
was a coach at the academy and a
neighbor of the academy's recruit-
ing officer. North transferred to
Annapolis after his sophomore year
at state college.
There, as a freshman, he became
known as Ollie, a variation of the
name he shared with his father.
That year, North also confronted
his first serious setback. But he
turned it into a challenge.
The setback was a car accident.
The driver, a fellow student at the
academy, was killed. Another pas-
senger lay unconscious for three
weeks. A third had to drop out of
the academy because of his injuries.
Ollie, who had been sleeping in the
back seat, suffered knee and back
injuries.
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He took his challenge to St. Jude.
"He would pass out St. Jude medals
asking people to pray for him .. ,"
says Mike Bolier, an academy stu-
dent who was in the hospital at the
time with a shoulder injury. "He
said St. Jude was for hopeless cases
... and [he said], 'Say a few words
for me and help me."'
The injuries were severe. North
had to leave the academy and
return home to recuperate. Howard
Rhodes, a neighbor, recalls North's
self-prescribed regimen for getting
himself back into shape: jumping
off the garage roof.
Starting Over
To return to the academy the
next year would mean starting over
as a freshman. But that was just
another challenge. Indeed, he be-
came obsessed with proving that he
could outdo his able-bodied peers.
Classmates and teachers watched
him warily, fearful that he would
hurt himself again.
He walked with a limp but still
played tackle football at the mid-
shipmen's annual Turkey Bowl on
Thanksgiving. During workouts,
when everybody else did 50 push-
ups, North did 60. If the rest of his
classmates ran three miles, North
ran five. When the other students
ran the steps downstairs, North
would run them upstairs. Boxing
coach Emerson Smith said he
would do all this in visible pain.
When his classmates took their
vacations. North took Marine Corps
training courses. He went to jump
school one summer to qualify as a
paratrooper. He spent another va-
cation studying survival tactics.
One spring night at the academy,
after the lights were out, Midship-
man Richard A. Petrino spotted
North limping through Bancroft
Hall. Petrino was the student bri-
gade commander and on duty that
night. He asked North what he was
doing in the darkened corridor.
North, Petrino said, replied that
he was trying to find his medical
records. North said he wanted to
remove a report about injuries from
the car accident because he feared
that they might keep him out of the
Marines. Petrino, now 40, says he
empathized and even admired
North. Petrino did not report him.
In his junior year at the academy,
North became a boxer.
"He had to struggle with that
knee, but he never let on that he
had that knee problem at all .. "
Smith says. "He just did what he
had to do while he was hurting. He
was a mess."
North won five pre-tournament
bouts and asked his coach whether
he could box in the brigade open.
Smith told him to get clearance
from his doctor. North got it and
began sparring. In the tournament,
he would face James Webb, a
formidable opponent. But in prac-
tice, North got decked by a much
weaker boxer.
"Ollie," his coach told him, "as
far as I'm concerned, you might as
well stay out of the tournament."
North persisted. He went back to
his doctor for clearance a second
time, and the doctor advised that
he could compete if he felt up to it.
The coach relented. Smith said he
feat that North needed "to prove
something to himself."
North was a "Friday night fight-
er," the kind who "looks stinko in
the gym, but when it comes down
to putting everything on the line,
he is always there to meet the
bell." the coach recalls. "He always
excels when under pressure."
Favoritism Alleged
The coach worked hard with
North, so hard that Webb com-
plained that it was unfair. Webb
and North were intense competi-
tors, who each commanded sepa-
rate loyal followings. the coach
says. Webb went on to win decora-
tions in Vietnam, write acclaimed
novels, become an undersecretary
of defense and, finally, secretary of
the Navy.
The North-Webb bout was leg-
endary. It was very close. "Ollie
didn't keep his hands up," Smith
recalls. "He didn't move properly.
He had that bad knee."
But he won.
The championship meant more
to North than his coach realized at
the time. Before gra? cation. North
appeared at Smi h'. home and
asked to borrow the film of the
fight. "You know. Jimmy Webb is
in the Marines," North pia the
coach. "And I've got to go before
this board and prove to them that
I'm man enough physica:.y to be in
the Marines. That film will help me
prove it."
North showed the selection
board the film and got his commis-
sion.
Ever striving, he skipped sum-
mer vacation again. Now a second
lieutenant, North went directly to
basic training at Quantico, Va. "I
guess he was afraid the war wasn't
going to wait for him," says Lt. Col.
Jack Holly, a fellow midshipman at
the academy.
When others at Quantico went to
Washington for fun, North studied
or checked out the terrain for
mapping exercises, Holly says. His
diligence got him to Vietnam 30
days before most of his fellow
Annapolis graduates.
As a soldier, North courted the
most dangerous assignments.
He was aggressive. When in-
stinct told him to take cover, he
charged. He reminded machine-
gunner Randy Herrod of a Viking
"berserker," a fighter who would
go against extreme odds and battle
until he dropped.
On May 25, 1969, after six months
in Vietnam, North matched his
father's highest decoration. He won
the Silver Star.
During a battle near the Demili-
tarized Zone, a platoon leading an
assault on a hill had been ambushed
near the hill's crest. The platoon
commander and a squad leader
were seriously wounded. Their
men radioed back to the captain for
help.
In an instant, Herrod heard
North on the radio. "Captain, sec-
ond platoon ready to move up,"
North said. He turned to his men.
"Here we go, boys."
They took off their packs,
dumped them at the side of the trail
and scrambled up the hill. North
led them past the fallen first unit
and to the top of the hill. where the
North Vietnamese waited.
Cool Under Fire
Forty -five-caliber pistol in
hand, North stood at the middle of
the front line, under intense fire,
and gave orders.
"He was just as cool as he was in
a living room conversation. ' says
another machine-gunner, Ernie
Tuten.
The North Vietnamese, stunned
by the quickness and aggressive-
ness of the assault, withdrew to
another hill. After evacuating his
casualties, North led another at-
tack on the enemy's new position.
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Again, the North Vietnamese
retreated, and again North pur-
sued. As casualties mounted and his
unit's ammunition ran out, he halt-
ed the attack.
Repeatedly exposing himself to
fire, North directed a resupply, an
evacuation of casualties and air
strikes. Finally, he initiated a
fourth assault, moving from one
Marine to another to direct their
fire and exhort them.
It was "a last bold effort,"
North's citation says. And it
worked. North and his men pushed
the rest of the North Vietnamese
from the ridge line.
If enemy fire meant little, na-
tional boundaries meant less;
where others saw limits. North saw
opportunity.
One night, North woke up his
men for a secret operation they
called "Hot Tamale." The Paris
Peace talks were in progress, and
the United States wanted to prove
that the North Vietnamese were
occupying the Demilitarized Zone,
theoretically a no-fire area.
"We've got to go out," North told
his sleepy men. "We need a prison-
er."
Invaded the North
He and a staff sergeant each
directed a team. The teams loaded
into separate trucks and traveled
over bomb craters and brush-cov-
ered terrain. They walked into the
DMZ. North's point man spotted a
North Vietnamese army guard
across the 18th Parallel, which
divided North and South Vietnam.
North did not stop to question
whether he should invade the
North. He just did it.
He and his point man crossed the
18th Parallel, Herrod and Tuten
recall, and shot a North Vietnam-
ese guard in the jaw.
They dragged him back to South
Vietnam for interrogation.
After his tour in Vietnam. North
taught tactics at Quantico. He and
other instructors tried to make
their classes as realistic as possible.
By several accounts, North once
jumped atop a classroom desk and
fired blanks into the air.
Back in Vietnam, Randy Herrod
had been charged with 16 counts of
first-degree. premeditated murder
in the slaying of five Vietnamese
women and 11 children at the
village of Son Thang in the Que Son
Valley. The massacre happened
after North had left Vietnam. But
Herrod had once saved North's life.
and North wanted to help.
He volunteered to testify for
Herrod as a character witness. He
got leave from the Marine Corps
and returned to Southeast Asia.
There, he shared a hut with
Denzil Garrison, one of Herrod's
attorneys. Every night, Garrison
says, North washed his combat
fatigues. Every morning before
dawn, he woke up to iron them,
using spray starch and a travel iron
he brought. ''You could shave
yourself in the shine on his shoes."
Garrison says.
But North was restless. Just
testifying was not enough. He
decided to kill time free-lancing as
a foot soldier. He made friends with
members of a Marine reconnais-
sance unit camped nearby and
accompanied them on their patrols.
The unit's insignia was a skull and
crossbones and the words: "Swift
Silent Death."
Garrison worried that North
would get himself killed before the
trial.
He went out day after day after
da, -.v;th them. just on a volunteer
b,isis .. . ," Garrison says 'He
:'1S Over there on leave. ,_ olt,n-
teer: ng for those damn patrols, and
they were the most dangerous
patrols that you could be on "
North testified, and Herrod was
acquitted.
Three years later, North was
assigned to Okinawa, Japan. He
never liked downtime. During a
12-month tour that ended in De-
cember, 1974, he was on the job
nearly 24 hours a day.
It strained his marriage, a friend
says. Emotionally and physically
exhausted, North returned to the
United States. He entered Bethesda
Naval Medical Center on Dec. 16,
1974. His friends say he had emo-
tional problems. He stayed 22 days.
He saved his marriage-in part,
his friends say, because he prom-
ised to spend at least one day a
week with his family. One friend
says he heard that the medical
record of North's hospitalization
was removed by his superior offi-
cer. The superior officer's widow
says her husband never mentioned
this, but North's friend says other
officers who have seen North's
personnel records describe them as
spotless.
Kept Working
Despite his promises to his wife,
North continued to work hard.
He was promoted to major and
attended the Navy War College.
North joined the White House
National Security Council staff on
Oct. 1, 1983. White House officials
recognized his compulsion to work
long hours and took advantage of it.
"People were constantly saying,
'We need this by first thing tomor-
row morning,' and Ollie was the
kind of person who would never
say, 'No, it can't be done.' Ollie
would always take it," a former
colleague says.
Another former White House
associate says he admired North
but believed that he needed super-
vision.
"For whatever reason, the deci-
sion was made by (former National
Security Adviser Robert C.]
McFarlane to have Ollie work
directly for him without any inter-
mediary supervision," the associate
says. "I think McFarlane misjudged
how much time he could give [to)
supervising Ollie and, over time.
Ollie worked more and more on his
own.'.
Moreover, North bypassed nor-
mal bureaucratic channels. If he
wanted former CIA Director Wil-
liam J. Casey to back him on a
particular idea, North would visit
him over the weekend to ensure
Casey's support on and y,_ a -co-
worker remembers.
North regularly telephoned gov-
ernment officials at home after
midnight, insisting that they get
,out of bed and prepare whatever it
was he believed he needed. Ollie
himself often worked on only three
hours of sleep.
Until his final months at the
NSC, North had virtually no staff
to help him and refused to relin-
quish responsibilities to colleagues.
"If someone had an issue that they
thought was theirs and Ollie
thought it was his issue, he would
try to grab it or push people aside,"
a co-worker says. "He wanted
everybody to realize he was in
charge."
,Crisis Junkie'
North became what this col-
league describes as a "crisis junk-
ie," exhilarated by the intense
demands of the job and unable to
pull back.
Ultimately, his drive to excel
began to take a toll on Oliver
North.
Once a month, like a ritual, he
threatened to quit. He would pound
the table and declare he was unap-
preciated, his co-worker recalls.
"He would start screaming about
Bud McFarlane and John Poindex-
ter, how he hated this place and
nobody listened to what he had to
say. And then he would say, 'My
orders are coming, I am going to be
out of hereiwa month."'
totluinued
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liut colleagues grew accustomed
to his unrestrained tirades and
ignored them.
Vice Adm. John Poindexter, who
succeeded McFarlane as national
security adviser, eventually tried
to establish more control over
Ngth. Co-workers say Poindexter
tried. to take responsibility for the
-contras away from North after
Congress resumed aid. But Nort
resisted. Finally, it was decide
that North would share the respon-
siblity with two others.
Memoranda obtained by investi-
gators show that Poindexter told
North in May to invent a "cover
story that I have insisted you stop
[covert activities]."
However, by July, Poindexter
seemed genuinely concerned. He
considered advice from McFarlane
that North be hospitalized because
of his growing signs of strain.
Poindexter met with North and
later chastised him for being "too
emotional."
But Poindexter continued to rely
on him.
0
Charm has distinguished Ollie
North since high school.
His English teacher remembers
that North would laugh at his jokes.
All of them.
To Bob Bowes, his social studies
teacher, North possessed "all the
attributes I think you'd want in a
son."
North also got along well with
most of his fellow students. "No
social event would be complete
without the presence of Larry
North," his yearbook says.
"He was a charming person," his
sister, Patricia, recalls.
Parents felt comfortable when
their daughters went out with
North. "They knew if they were
out with us, we would bring their
daughters home on time and there
wouldn't be drinking," Peter Reiss,
a high school friend, says.
Women remember North as a
"gentleman" who stood when
women entered. At the U.S. Naval
Academy, when he went to the
home of boxing coach Smith, North
always opened doors for the
coach's wife and addressed her as
"ma'am."
Inspired Troops
"He's the type of young man that
you'd hope that your daughter
would go out with," Smith says. "In
fact, my daughter and Larry are
good friends too, and I always sort
of hoped that maybe Ollie would
like her...."
But North already had pinned his
hometown sweetheart. When they
broke up, he dated a speech thera-
pist he met through friends. She
eventually broke off the relation-
ship. But she says she never forgot
North's "sweet face" and "boyish
charm."
In Southeast Asia, North's confi-
dent walk, his straightforward
speech, his intensity inspired a kind
of fearful reverence in his troops.
"I was afraid of him," Herrod
says. "He was the kind of man-he
didn't demand respect. He com-
manded it. It exuded from him. You
had to respect him."
North calculated ways to win
loyalty. He advised fellow officer
Don Moore to do the same. He told
Moore to include a crate of onions
and some hot sauce in the rations to
make himself popular with the
Latinos in his platoon. Moore took
the advice, and it worked.
"He certainly could motivate his
men," Moore says. "I never saw a
morale problem."
If one of North's men collapsed in
the heat and humidity, North
would be at his side with empathy
and water. If his troops were
feeling low, North could somehow
manage to come up with the right
words to inspire them.
As men neared the end of their
tours in Vietnam, some platoon
leaders would let them hang back
to avoid danger. But North's men
would stay up front until the day
they left Vietnam. And not because
North told them. "You wanted to
be with him," Herrod says.
Being in North's platoon was a
symbol that you were tougher,
braver and more gung-ho than the
rest. North's radio code name was
"Blue." His men called themselves,
"Blue's Bastards."
"You didn't want to displease
him ..." Herrod says. "He made
you able to do things that you
didn't think you could do. He
brought it out in me. He brought it
out in everyone in the platoon. You
did things that, after you thought
about it, seemed impossible."
North was 5-foot-9, but he
seemed larger. Herrod is startled
when he looks at photographs of
himself next to North. "I'm 6-
foot-4 and it seemed like we could
look eye to eye."
North's superiors in the Marine
Corps regularly gave him out-
standing evaluations. He was
known as a good briefer of gener-
als: poised, sharp and concise.
"He was not awed by rank but he
was respectful," says retired Maj.
Gen. Tom Haynes, North's com -
mander at Okinawa. "He was
bright, energetic, an attractive
leader."
North's respectful ease with au-
thority served him well at the
White House, at least during his
early years there. His boss, McFar-
lane, was another who thought of
him as a son. Members of Congress
say he addressed them as "sir" and
made them feel important.
North knew when to be deferen-
tial and when not to be.
He once annoyed a lower-rank-
ing Cabinet member by calling him
by his first name. But he addressed
as "sir" an NSC official who had
control over how much money
North's programs would get.
North had "an open quality that
.was easy to like," a former Admin-
Istration official says. "He was a
charmer. He-was very straightfor-
ward, very willing to help you
out.... He really had a winning
personality. He was a guy you
would trust."
He used his charm to manipulate
the system. "Ollie played the sys-
tem like an orchestra," a co-work-
er says. "He was really a conduc-
tor. He was able to touch all the
instruments in the U.S. govern-
ment and he knew how to do it
very well."
Another colleague says North
had an instinct for knowing how to
address different kinds of people.
Among fellow Marines, he swore
with a vengeance. But in a meeting
about hostages with senior mem-
bers of the Episcopal Church,
North sprinkled his conversation
with religious references. "He was
no longer a Marine," the colleague
says. "He was an altar boy."
If facts failed him, North tried
emotion. He would begin with
flattery and end with an appeal to
sympathy, the colleague says.
When he found himself unable to
persuade another to do what he
wanted, North "would talk about
how his war wounds were bother-
ing him, how little sleep he
had....
"He was very effective at getting
other people to do things for him."
He was so effective that another
longtime colleague grew wary.
"After I got to know him awhile,
I found he was a manipulator and
he manipulated people very well,"
this colleague says. "So I kept my
distance."
0
From the start, Ollie North was a
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r
hard worker.
He learned diligence by disci-
pline. It came early, at the Chris-
tian Bros. Academy in Albany,
where strict Catholicism was com-
pounded by a military regimen.
Students wore uniforms. They
went through a tough inspection
every morning. Wrinkled shirts or
unshined shoes cost demerits. A
wisecrack in class brought a slap
across the face.
After he transferred back to
public school in Philmont, he
served Mass at the Sacred Heart
Church-long after some of his
friends had stopped.
When he enrolled at State Uni-
versity of New York, College at
Brockport, his world remained one
of duty, diligence and dedication.
He managed the basketball team,
held student office, became a resi-
dent assistant and was put in
charge of a dormitory.
But in the wider world of knowl-
edge, North did not distinguish
himself. He held a B average. He
got a D in calculus/geometry but
did well in science.
At the Naval Academy, howev-
er, North's dedication to duty and
discipline won big rewards.
Few midshipmen get the honor
of commanding their respective
companies. At Annapolis, North
won the honor twice.
Aimed for Marines
Academy graduates have a
choice. They can serve as officers
in the Navy-or they can go on to
become officers in the Marine
Corps. North never seriously
doubted that he wanted to be a
Marine.
Marine Corps candidates were a
subculture at the academy. They
were more aggressive, more con-
scious of their physical fitness.
They wore red and gold gym
shorts-Marine colors-when their
superiors were not around to repri-
mand them for being out of acade-
my garb. They yelled their own
chants. They put Marine Corps
posters on their walls. During drills
or exercises, they were always at
the top of the lines.
Single-mindedness served North
well. The inscription under his
picture in the academy yearbook
declares that his heart was with
"the corps, the corps, the corps."
But there were hints that his world
of discipline, duty and diligence
was missing some parts of the
larger picture.
"Ollie was no renaissance man,"
classmate Jack Holly recalls. "He is
a very black-and-white type of
individual who is very intense and
works very hard ... You know,
there are some guys that ... [are]
a little gifted. Ollie, I don't think,
was gifted in anything.... But he
was so diligent.... "
At Quantico, where North com-
pleted his Marine Corps officers
training, Holly remembers that
little seemed to interest North
apart from the Marines. "I'm trying
to think what else Ollie did," Holly
says.
"Really, nothing comes to mind."
By the Book
In Vietnam, North's discipline
and diligence became remarkable.
By now, it was 1969; he was a
Marine second lieutenant, and
Randy Herrod and Ernie Tuten
were in his platoon. They were at
the DMZ.
"He did things by the book,"
Herrod recalls.
Helmet straps. North demanded
that his men keep them buckled.
Flak jackets. He ordered his men to
keep their flak packs inside, no
matter how heavy. Ammunition.
His men didn't carry machine-gun
rounds across their chests. He
ordered them to leave the rounds in
their boxes, so they wouldn't get
dirty and make the guns jam.
Grenades. Some troops carried
them on their belts. But that meant
the brush could yank out their pins.
North ordered his men to carry
them inside their flak jacket pock-
ets.
"Everyone had his battle dress-
ing," Herrod recalls. "You kept it
on the side of your helmet. If you
got hit and there was nobody to
help, you could do that much
yourself. Things like that he insist-
ed on. Yes, sir. He was tight about
that. You did that."
Tuten remembers too: "He al-
ways had his chin strap buckled.
Not like John Wayne; John Wayne
always had his undone. But Ollie
had his buckled, and he had his .45
and his flak jacket on. A squared-
away-looking dude."
Also, Herrod says, "what really
sticks in my head is ... he shaved
every day in the field, which
nobody else did."
He wasn't a martinet. Herrod
remembers: "Back in the rear,
getting drunk, raising a little Cain
was OK. But you kept your weapon
ready."
This attention to detail brought
two results.
North's men regarded him high-
ly. "He helped me survive that
place," Tuten says. "I had four
lieutenants the whole time I was
over there, and I was over there
about 11 months, and he was
without a doubt the best. He did
those things to protect us."
And his platoon won honors. "It
was the honor platoon at the
changing of the commander,
Northern I Corps," Herrod says.
"Second Platoon was Ollie's pla-
toon. And it was chosen out of all of
the Third Marine Division. It was
picked out as the best platoon in the
division. That was an honor."
But the bigger picture continued
to elude North.
"He was big on getting the job
done and done right," Tuten re-
calls. "He really just impressed me
as one who was over there to win a
war." But was it a war Americans
should have been fighting? Why
were they there? When Herrod and
two other men asked him, North
simply told them the United States
was obliged to fight because it was
a member of SEATO, the Southeast
Asia Treaty Organization.
"He'd talk to us," Herrod says,
"but when he talked to us, he
would talk to us about tactics; he'd
teach us things that would help us.
He wasn't into reflecting."
North Wounded
Several months after North ar-
rived in Vietnam, Don Moore, also a
second lieutenant, arrived to take
over another platoon.
The first night, he shared
North's tent.
Moore reached out to shake
hands. It was dark. He felt bandag-
es. North had been wounded by a
grenade.
Then, by the light of a flickering
candle, North gave Moore a mat-
ter-of-fact primer on Vietnam and
the war: not the big picture, but
every detail.
The next day, he gave Moore
another lesson-this time about
"fragging," what grunts called kill-
ing their own officers with frag-
mentation grenades. He tossed a
Continued
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small stone onto the roof of a
nearby hut where several officers
were drinking.
As it rattled across the tin, the
officers scrambled for cover.
Moore and North were still com-
manding platoons wherr Neil Arm-
strong walked on the moon. Dirty
and battle-worn, Moore looked up
from his foxhole and wondered just
how civilized man had really be-
come.
He spoke to North about it. But
North, Moore recalls, just didn't get
it. "He thought it was weird that I
would even contemplate that kind
of thing."
The next year, after he had
completed his tour in Vietnam,
North put his military career at
stake: He either failed to grasp the
larger political implications of what
he took upon himself to do-or he
realized his jeopardy and did it
anyway.
Either way, when he volun-
teered to testify at Randy Herrod's
massacre trial, defense attorney
Gene Stipe says, North antagonized
every senior officer in the Marine
Corps who wanted to see Herrod
convicted and put in prison for life.
Denzil Garrison, co-counsel for the
defense, figures that the Marine
Corps wanted even more. "I've
always thought," he says, "that for
Randy they had the firing squad in
mind."
Mindful of the bad publicity the
Army still was enduring over My
Lai, the Marines were intent on
putting their scandal behind them
as quickly as possible, even if it
meant convicting some of their
own of atrocities.
In fact, the massacre at Son
Thang was being called "the Ma-
rines' My Lai," after a Vietnamese
hamlet infamous for an Army
slaughter two years before in
which 150 to 200 women, children
and old men had been killed.
North was not subpoenaed to
testify on Herrod's behalf. He vol-
unteered. More than that, Herrod's
attorneys say, North paid his own
way to San Francisco, then caught
military planes to Saigon and on to
Da Nang, where the court-martial
was to be held.
North's value to the defense was
considerable. He did what he was
asked, without question.
Polled Officers
Herrod's lawyers tried to per-
suade the court to move his trial to
the United States. They asked
North to poll officers about wheth-
er they thought Herrod could re-
ceive a fair trial there at Da Nang.
"There were some 60 officers at the
base, and he was to get at least half
`- of them and ask them," Garrison
'Says. "He found 30, and it was
29-to-1 he couldn't get a fair trial."
The lone vote was a Marine
major, Garrison says, who got an-
gry and ran North out of the
officers club.
North provided other informa-
tion.
"The prosecutors were especial-
ly incensed," Garrison says, "be-
cause he was able to get us stuff
that we wouldn't have been able to
reach otherwise." Son Thang was
really Son Thang IV, for example.
The Roman numeral was the mili-
tary's way of ranking Vietnamese
hamlets. "I was all friendlies,"
Garrison says. "II was most friend-
ly, some enemy. III most enemy,
some friendly. IV was all enemy.
That was very important to our
defense. He's the one that tipped us
off to what that IV meant."
But the most important thing
North did was to give the defense a
way to bring up Randy Herrod's
Silver Star.
"They wouldn't let us introduce
the fact that Randy had won it,"
Garrison recalls. "So we got it into
the testimony through North. He
had written Randy up for the
decoration."
The citation said their company
had come under heavy attack the
night of July 28, 1969, three miles
northwest of Cam Lo. A rocket-
propelled grenade exploded near-
by, wounding Herrod and two
others-including North. Herrod
dragged North and the other casu-
alty into a gun emplacement and
shielded them with his body.
"Ollie gave him credit for saving
his life," defense attorney Stipe
recalls. "The court, I think, was
impressed."
Herrod was acquitted.
To Stipe, it seemed that North
had put himself at considerable
risk. The Marine Corps, Stipe re-
members, wanted Herrod's hide.
"They were pretty goddamn ada-
mant." So why, Stipe wondered,
had North gone to such great
lengths to help? Had he understood
the implications of what he was
doing, the possible consequences?
"I discussed that with him,"
Stipe recalls. "And I kind of had the
feeling that he had a deep sense of
gratitude toward Randy Her-
rod.... I think that if somebody
had said, 'OK, Lt. North, you go
ahead and testify, and we're gonna
bust your ass out,' I think he would
have testified the same."
Disregard for the bigger picture,
particularly political consequences
and their impact upon his personal
welfare, also attended North's ten-
ure at the White House.
'Ride a Good Horne Hard'
"Because he was so task-orient-
ed," says Jack Holly, his Annapolis
schoolmate, he "was just given
more. . . . It's the old adage: You
ride a good horse hard and put him
away wet." North was promoted to
deputy director of political-mili-
tary affairs. But his Marine Corps
career was slipping away.
"Ollie has a problem in that some
things he does, he doesn't perceive
that they could be misconstrued,"
Holly says. "For example, people
would call him from the Marine
Corps, and the secretaries would
say he would call them back.
"Ollie was terrible at ever calling
back.... It's not a vindictiveness,
it's just that, in Ollie's priorities,
that always will fall way down. He
is always focusing on some new
project that is much, much more
important. I think he rationalizes
that, if you're really interested,
you'll keep calling back.
"What happens is a lot of senior
officers said, 'This arrogant f - - -,
piss on him."'
Most significant was North's
failure, at times, to perceive the
bigger picture, which placed his
country at political risk.
'He'd Become a Hero'
"He was relatively anti-authori-
ty," says another Administration
source. "He flouted authority. And
because of that, he often didn't ask
for authority-he just went and did
it, and came back and said, 'I did
this, and I was right.'
"And he'd become a hero, be-
cause what he did usually worked."
But not always.
"That's great in combat," the
source says. "But it doesn't work so
well in the White House."
North was ethnocentric, says a
government official outside the
NSC.
"He saw things from a very
American perspective," this official
says. "He didn't really understand
how things operated in other coun-
tries around the world, what were
the forces at play. . . . He was not
confined by the niceties of diplo-
macy or restricted by the knowl-
edge of international affairs."
-- continua
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7
North, recalls a colleague at the
NSC, "tended to see the world in all
black and white and not shades of
gray. So you were either with him
or against him. And that sort of
outlook tends to blind you to the
nuances that are reflective of the
real world. If you didn't support his
position on contra aid, you were
some kind of commie."
Narrow task-orientation and
failure to see the larger context,
says North's NSC colleague, were
two sides of the same coin: his
single- mindedness.
"Single-mindedness was the
thing that caused the most prob-
lems," the colleague says. "My
problem with Ollie was that I didn't
always trust his judgment...."
0
Fantasy and reality blurred at
times for Ollie North.
Apart from his reported attempt
to hide the truth by stealing his
Naval Academy medical records,
there is little evidence that he tried
to distort reality before he reached
the National Security Council.
But at the NSC, where his work
was often undercover and lies were
called "disinformation," North
moved in and out of the truth
enough times to make some col-
leagues skeptical of his claims.
Although his sister, Patricia,
says North does not exaggerate,
someone who worked with him in
the Administration warns: "One
took everything Ollie said with a
grain of salt."
Another colleague says North
had a repertoire of adventure sto-
ries in which he inevitably was the
protagonist. He told them as
though he was describing a third
person. "Ollie regarded himself as a
legend in his own time ..." the
colleague says. "For all I know, the
exploits might be true. It was just
the way he would tell these stories
about himself."
Many of the claims that North's
detractors call lies do in fact con-
tain truth. But not the whole truth.
In late 1985, North appeared as a
character witness for former White
House adviser Thomas C. Reed,
who was tried and later acquitted
of criminal fraud in an insider-
trading case. Describing his back-
ground on the witness stand, North
testified that he had taken "gr&du-
ate courses at Catholic University
in Georgetown, both in business
and in political science." Officials at
Catholic University say North
completed one "introduction to
graduate school" course in 1977.
However, Catholic University of
America is not in Georgetown.
Georgetown University is. Officials
there say there is no record that he
took any any courses at their
school.
He testified that he received
"several Purple Hearts." North's
military records show he had only
two Purple Hearts. But soldiers
who served with him in Vietnam
said he was wounded at least four
times in combat and would have
received two additional Purple
Hearts had he applied for them.
At the White House, North gave
the impression that he was in
danger. He told colleagues that
Sandinista sympathizers had
threatened him. For his trips
abroad, he kept a bulletproof un-
dershirt in his White House office,
as well as a pair of sunglasses he
described as bulletproof. He trav-
eled outside the United States
under the alias of "Mr. Good."
Danger an Honor
But a colleague says it was
unclear whether North really be-
lieved himself to be in danger in
Washington or created an aura of
threats to make himself feel more
important.
"Ollie wore danger like a badge
of honor," the colleague says.
Unsettling things did happen to
North, however.
In April, 1986, a spokesman for
Abu Nidal said in a television
interview that the terrorist group
would attack Americans to avenge
the U.S. bombing of Libya. He
named as targets North; John
Singlaub, a retired U.S general
active in right-wing causes; and
Dr. Edward Luttwak of George-
town University, a former consul-
tant to the Defense and State
departments.
Although at least one colleague
insists that the threat was "silly"
and not to be taken seriously,
North was disturbed by it.
North complained that his home
had been vandalized. A friend says
he saw the damage. North told a
fellow NSC staff member that
someone had put sugar in the gas
tank of his pickup truck. No one
disputes it. North says someone
slashed his tires. The White House
did in fact assign him a new
parking space in a secure garage
because of damage to his car. North
told others that his dog had been
poisoned. But a knowledgeable
source says the dog actually died of
cancer.
At the office, North tried to order
around admirals or generals in the
President's name. He regularly
spoke as though he was "acting on
instructions that came directly
from the President," a colleague
says.
"Ollie would say, 'Now that I've
told you this, it's for the President
and John [Poindexter) and you and
I to know about, and nobody else,'"
this colleague recounts, laughing.
At a Frankfurt, West Germany,
meeting on the Iranian arms deal.
North "misrepresented his access
to the President and attributed to
the President things the President
never said," the President's Tower
Commission said. North claimed
that he had private meetings with
Reagan at Camp David, the com-
mission's report says. Reagarr told
the commission that the clairrt was
"absolute fiction."
But, although North's rela.ions
with Reagan were not as close as
he claimed, Ollie was always more
than just a bureaucrat to the chief
executive. A colleague ,says
McFarlane and Poindexter brought
North into their daily 9:30 a.m.
foreign intelligence briefing} for
the President, possibly as often as
once a week. North's visits would
not have been part of the official
schedule.
Of all NSC staff members, "Ollie
was by far the closest to the
President," a co-worker says. "The
President would recognize the rest
of us. But Ollie North he knew by
name and would call by first
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8
name." During his final high-pres-
sure mlonths at the NSC, when
North was deeply immersed in
covert operations, he increasingly
deemed deception part of duty. He
once used an unsuspecting col-
league to plant a lie for him.
An Administration source de-
scribes the incident this way:
North told the colleague last
spring that the U.S. had no plans to
attack Libya in retaliation for ter-
rorist activities and assured him
that he could pass this information
on to a news reporter. The infor-
mation was dutifully leaked and
featured prominently on network
news.
Later, North laughed and con-
gratulated his colleague on a "great
piece of disinformation." The U.S.
had in fact been planning retalia-
tion.
The unwitting partner in North's
deception expressed anger at being
tricked.
North turned cold and furious.
"If you don't like it, then f---
you," North said. He turned and
walked off.
"They [North's superiors) used
him to plant a number of stories in
the press," an Administration
source says. "But Ollie ran his own
little disinformation campaign that
was independent of whatever they
told him to do."
North's final "disinformation
campaign" in the White House
came last November. News stories
that month reported U.S. arms
sales to Iran, and North told col-
leagues that the reports were false,
He said the government had not
exchanged arms for the hostages.
Rather, North said, his "friends"
had kidnaped the relatives of
high-ranking Iranian officials and
put them in "cages." Eventually,
he said, the Iranians would be
traded for the U.S. hostages.
North's astonished colleagues at
the pressed about the
bizarre account. North insisted that
it was true. Finally, one of the staff
members called the CIA about it.
The CIA said it was a lie.
0
Oliver North, fired from his
White House job, spends a lot of
time these days in the downtown
Washington office of his attorney.
He reports regularly to a desk job at
the Marine Corps, where officials
give him as much time as he needs
to work on his legal problems. His
duties involve internal Marine
Corps service matters.
People say they have seen him
show up on Friday nights at the
basketball games of Herndon High
School, the Virginia suburban
school his daughter attends. She is
a cheerleader. On Sundays, he
attends the Church of the Apostles,
a charismatic Episcopal church in
Fairfax, Va. He has described him-
self to a fellow White House em-
ployee as a "born -again Christian."
Friends say he seems serene and
confident. He carries a Bible and
pulls it out to read if the pressures
start to build. He once told report-
ers that he felt abandoned by his
former friends and colleagues. He
referred them to Psalms 7, Verse 1.
It reads: "0 Lord my God, in thee
do I put my trust: Save me from all
them that persecute me, and deliv-
er me."
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