Episode 59: Unmasking the Secret World of Task Force Alpha

Episode 59 of Military Tales delves deep into a lesser-known facet of the Vietnam War – the highly secretive Task Force Alpha and the vital role of photo intelligence in the war against the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Our guide for this journey is Steve Umland, a former Air Force photo interpreter whose experiences shed light on this clandestine operation and later, the infamous Sante Prison Raid.

Steve Umland’s path to military service wasn’t preordained; a “rudderless 19-year-old kid driving a truck,” he was draft-exempt but decided he needed to “go do something”. Influenced by his World War II Marine veteran father, he chose the Air Force over the Navy, who he felt “stole all of our girlfriends in high school”. Joining in April 1969, Umland scored surprisingly high on aptitude tests despite poor school performance, leading him into Air Force intelligence and specifically, photo interpretation. After training at Lowry Air Force Base, he received orders for Southeast Asia, with his assignment listed only as Task Force Alpha. Its secrecy was so profound that even pilots flying into the base were reportedly blindfolded, and many people had never heard of it.

Arriving in November 1969, Umland found himself stationed at Nakhon Phanom (NKP), Thailand. Task Force Alpha’s primary mission was to disrupt the enemy’s logistical lifeline: the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Laos. Contrary to popular belief, the trail wasn’t a single path but an “incredibly elaborate motor” network of hundreds of roads, paths, and trails originating from North Vietnam and spreading in multiple directions. The objective was to “Monitor and figure out” the movement down this network. This was done by dropping over 20,000 acoustic and seismic sensors using F-4 aircraft. These sensors, operational for about two weeks each, were incredibly sophisticated for 1969. Listening stations could identify what was moving, telling operators if it was a truck, its speed and gear, its weight, or even if 50 NVA soldiers or a bicycle laden with rice had passed by.

The nerve center of this operation was the War Room at night, which Umland described as being “right out of Star Wars” with illuminated panels showing the movement of traffic along “strings” of sensors. When a group of vehicles or personnel was detected, photo interpreters and other personnel would use film from the previous day or older missions to find the location. The enemy employed elaborate camouflage over the trail and used sophisticated tactics, including digging huge tunnels or “VR Vons” that served as stations for vehicles. Photo interpreters like Umland would examine film to assess the effectiveness of strikes, a process called Bomb Damage Assessment (BDA). Umland recalls a memorable incident where a strike based on identifying possible trucks under canopy resulted in a massive explosion that burned for three days, revealing a large fuel depot.

Steve Umland’s role involved working at Richard’s light tables, examining film to identify targets. Some film was stereo, allowing for some depth perception, while other types included infrared, though most was black and white. Finding targets under camouflage required keen observation. One of the frustrations was the poor communication between the intelligence generated at Task Force Alpha and the pilots at NKP who would execute the strikes. Intelligence often went through headquarters in Saigon and the 7th Air Force, and reportedly even needed clearance from the Ambassador, a protocol that Umland found difficult to fully believe applied to every mission. Umland was responsible for receiving the film, which was processed at Udorn and flown to NKP by a small, unmarked “scatpack” jet.

Beyond sensors and photo intelligence, other efforts aimed to gather information, including a CIA operation called “heavy hook” run out of Vientiane, which involved dropping intelligence gatherers onto the trail to observe enemy activity firsthand. While Umland was aware of some SOG (Special Operations Group) operations mentioned in books, he had no direct knowledge of them being run out of NKP or Vientiane during his time there. He reflects on the dedication of these covert operators and the subsequent difficult situation faced by locals who had worked for the US when the war ended.

Umland’s military journey took an unexpected turn when he was suddenly rotated out of NKP, not knowing where he was going until shortly before his departure. He was sent to the highly prestigious and secretive 67th Reconnaissance Technical Squadron at Yokota Air Base, Japan. The 67th analyzed air intelligence, including missions from SR-71s flying over Southeast Asia, China, and North Korea. Umland’s assignment coincided with the intelligence gathering for the Sante Prison Raid. He was tasked with analyzing SR-71 film of the Sante Prison compound near Hanoi. Following standard protocol, he was not told what he was looking for, only to interpret what he saw. Examining the compound, and comparing it to previous missions by looking at grass patterns and bicycle movements, Umland concluded that the prison appeared to be abandoned. This was contrary to the prevailing intelligence that there were over 50 US POWs there. Drawing on his experience counting personnel movement based on sensor data at Task Force Alpha, he felt the activity level wasn’t consistent with holding many prisoners and required guards. The room, filled with people including DIA personnel, reportedly didn’t want to hear his conclusion.

The Sante Raid, launched two days later, tragically found no prisoners. Umland describes the feeling in the room upon hearing this news as deeply sad. Despite the outcome, he considers the raid a “Successful Failure“. While it didn’t rescue the prisoners, it significantly impacted the POWs who heard about it, giving them hope and showing that America cared. It also led to the North Vietnamese consolidating prisoners into larger camps, which improved morale and camaraderie. Umland notes the uncertainty surrounding why the prisoners were moved, with theories ranging from flooding rivers to dried-up wells. He also dismisses the idea that aerial intelligence was solely done by the DIA, stating the photo interpreters at the 67th meticulously analyzed everything, including surrounding defenses. There remains no consensus on whether a mole in Saigon leaked information, though some, like SOG veterans, found the evidence compelling based on being immediately fired upon after insertion.

Photo interpreters at Task Force Alpha also played a crucial, albeit secondary, role in Search and Rescue (SAR) missions. When a pilot went down, they would stop their primary mission to assist, analyzing previous film of the area to map terrain and identify potential clearings or escape routes to help guide SAR crews and the downed pilot. They were aware of the danger that downed aircraft could be used as bait to lure in rescue forces.

Looking back years later, Steve Umland reflects on the intense nature of the work, comparing the technology used at Task Force Alpha to systems developed decades later for border surveillance. He also shares a deeper reflection: as a young 20-year-old, he loved the work and his service but didn’t question why they were there. It wasn’t until taking college classes after his service that he began to ask these larger questions about the war. Despite this, he is extremely proud of his military service and the work he did. His account provides a rare glimpse into the secret intelligence war fought against the Ho Chi Minh Trail and the critical role of photo interpretation in trying to disrupt it.