M Y O B

September 5, 2009

It is nearly 41 years to the day that I found myself unable to make up my mind what to do in VietNam. I really did want to leave VN feeling I had accomplished something useful, either to my employer, the US Army, or the Vietnamese. Seven of my 18-months were gone, and I had nothing whatever to show for it. My health was deteriorating, and my wander-lust was increasing. I was all ready to go:

Ready to depart Saigon, September, 1968, on a Honda CB-160

All I needed was cooperation from PA&E!

_____________________________

Thursday PM, 22 AUG 1968

Dear everyone~

Nearly two weeks has passed since my last letter: as far as my job is concerned, there has been no change to speak of. On Monday I met by chance the General Manager of the Company, who seemed to know of my situation, and who indicated that the matter would be cleared up. Later, arother person indicated they hoped to be able to work out a way to keep me satisfied in country, intimating that perhaps they want to revive the lab program. I have heard nothing since.

Since taking over my new “responsibilities”, I have been plagued by a malady which appears to be some strain of flu, but which has remarkably malaria-like symptoms: chills, fever, aches, etc. It is aggravated greatly by having to spend the day freezing (even with a coat on) in the air conditioned office. The temperature difference is usually at least 20 degrees, and my system is just not used to it. I spent today at home, popping pills, drinking liquids, etc, on advice of the company doctor.

You have doubtless already read that the VC rocketed downtown Saigon again, beginning about 4:30 this AM. It is a rude way to be awakened, I must say! The National Assembly Building, at the end of LeLoi Avenue, was hit by two rockets, causing a fair amount of damage to it, and collapsing many windows in the Caravelle. The room Robb’s friend stayed in at the Caravelle (Robb took a photo of me on its balcony) was showered with broken glass. Four large plate windows on the ground floor were blown in, but inasmuch as they had been extensively taped on the inside, surprisingly little glass was spread around.

At Bien Hoa, close by Long Binh, I understand an ammo dump was hit, causing a huge explosion which, among other things, broke nearly all the windows in the rather new USARV HQ complex at Long Binh. The Generals spent the day complaining that their offices were too warm, because without windows, their air conditioning was not very effective. Tough!

Naturally, rumors are rife that tonight will see the launching of the long awaited third offensive against Saigon. I don’t have access to any actual intelligence to support this: of course it is possible, but rumors are so plentiful here that one learns to ignore them.

The Soviet invasion of Czechoslavokia has dominated the news from all over the world today. I am inclined to think it presents us (and SVN) with a wonderful oportunity to launch a massive invasion of NVN with the excuse that Ho Chi Minh had invited us in to suppress a wave of revisionism there. With their present posture in Cz’a, how could Russia possibly refute this? And might it not give Russia pause to find us willing to pull the same sort of stunts they pull with the same flimsy excuses? Our reactions to any situation are so damned predictable that a cunning group can easily outsmart us. If we began acting irrationally for a change it would put the communists on the defensive. Most news commentaries are remarking that the latest developments will set back east-west relations: but consider how little effect the similar events in Hungary had. Despite all the wailing and moaning and gnashing of teeth at that time, the matter was quite quickly forgotten.

Appalling as it seems when I think about it, I find myself tempted to agree with some of the most unlikely people in the Presidential race this year. For instance, Mr. Reagan has a point when he points out that nuclear warheads and so forth really are NOT a deterrent to war if people are committed NOT to use them. And there is something to be said, I think, for Gov. Wallace’s harping on the matter of trade with the Soviet bloc, or with our so called allies who do the same. There is a fundamental inconsistency in our policies here that ought to be cleared up. I find myself tending to disagree more and more with Clean Gene and Hubert on the matter of a coalition government here: why should this be a satisfactory arrangement here, when we obviously would never consider it at home? Despite the alleged freedoms in the US, the communist party is essentially outlawed, its members are required to register in a way that members of no other party are, and the party and its members are under constant surveillance. So far as is known, no confessed communist has ever been elected to any important national office in the US. Yet we propose that a coalition is the answer in VN.

No one could possibly want this war over here ended more than I. But I marvel at the obtuse way we have conducted it, and I marvel at how easily people can overlook the fact that once entrenched, communism simply does not under any circumstances allow any individual freedoms: Hungary proved that, and now Cz’a has once again underscored that proof. Thus, if we are SERIOUS about guaranteeing individual freedoms, we must back that up with the necessary force to keep communism OUT of VN. The ONLY way we can do that now, given the situation as we have allowed it to deteriorate thus far, is to declare that “the picnic is over” and get busy with the actual job of winning this thing permanently. I disagree with those who contend that a military victory here is impossible, though I agree that so long as we try to win it with one hand tied behind our backs, and our legs hobbled as well, there is no hope.

There have been obvious improvements in the Saigon government under PM Houng; there is still much to be accomplished, but he is getting the upper hand in the corruption bit, has improved the efficiency of the the governmental apparatus considerably, and is making his presence felt even among the lowliest peasants, both in the cities and in the provs. This has been accomplished in only twelve weeks.

As for my own situation, I am going to see if I can’t bring this matter to a head tomorrow. There is—no question about it—a certain risk in being here in this place at this time. While I’m not particularly worried or fearful, I do feel foolish remaining in an obviously dangerous situation when I am doing nothing worthwhile to warrant staying. If the company really wants to get behind the lab program and can give me some concrete evidence of its willingness to back it fully, then I’m happy enough to stay and help them accomplish it. But if they have anything else in mind I shall (assuming they won’t surplus me) have to resign at last and move on.

So that’s how matters stand at the moment—not really very different from when I wrote last. I’ve been living out of a suitcase for nearly a month again, since I was all ready packing when they said I would be going. Part of the urgency for me in getting my situation decided one way or the other is so I can (or can not) re-settle into the apartment before Sept 1—or as the case may be, can vacate it without having to pay another month’s rent and move to a hotel for whatever short time might remain. That’s a pretty confused sentence, but I guess you can figure out what I mean!

Luv to all~
Bruce

Looking back 41 years later, I find it hard to believe I wrote as I did in the letter above! It must have driven my Dad to distraction: he was a staunch pacifist. I think the sentiments reflect my inability to bring anything useful to fruition, with nearly half my time in country used up.

Spare time was spent outfitting the cycle. I attached two saddle-bags in such a way that they could be removed fairly easily, buckled together, and tossed over the satchel. I could then pick up all my luggage with one hand, to carry it into hotels and so forth.

Saigon

Here is the motorcycle, loaded, with the Continental Palace Hotel in the background (the CPH was across the street from the Rex). The former owner of the bike had outfitted it with a number-plate “X 04631″ which may have meant something to him, but only served as an identifying mark for me. Not that it was needed: I probably had the only CB160 in all VN at the time, and I saw very few others anywhere. It usually drew a crowd when parked.

Classy Little Moto

It was a pretty classy little machine!

_________________

Sunday, 25 August 1968

Dear everyone~

Well, the workings of PA&E are wondrous to behold, but there is still not a great deal to report. The man at CMO who represented the largest stumbling block to progress of the lab has been relieved, and as a result of my efforts to get the General Manager interested in the lab, I was shunted in to see the NEW manager of the Installations Department last Friday. It was not an entirely satisfactory meeting. The new man is brand new in country, and shares a degree of optimism both about the Army and the supply system here that is typical of new hires, but which belies his innocence. As I’d suspected, there is hope of reviving the lab, and (for the moment, in an unofficial capacity) they want me to help. I have agreement in principal that the functional control of the program should be transferred out from under Dan Smythe, but that is only a small part of the battle. I’m not convinced yet that the route this man proposes to use is best, principally because if he succeeds in getting the army’s concurrence, it will place the burden of actually bringing the lab to fruition on PA&E  and I have no illusions about this company’s ability to do this: the management and other abilities necessary to coordinate and breathe life into the program are simply in too short supply here, despite the large number of bodies on the payroll.

In a sense, the limited commitment of the company to do something removes the grounds for surplusing me, although technically there still is no job “slot” in my field, and it will take some time for one to be created. This leaves only one way out—if I decide to abandon the ship—a resignation. This will, besides costing some money, leave something of a blot on my work record, though I don’t expect to ever again apply to anyone who would be particularly concerned about that. The money is not important either. If I stay to complete this contract (and because of some peculiarities of the new R&U contract PA&E has with the army, I will not be offered a second contract) it means another 11 months of shuffling papers like everybody else, accomplishing nothing constructive, with a certain risk of life and limb involved that is, at best, somewhat greater than some other parts of the world. At completion of my time, all I will have to show for the time spent is a good bank account, which counts for something, I suppose; but I wonder now whether I can survive the 11 months of inactivity?

Unquestionably, if I stick with it, I will be on the verge of resigning precipitately for the entire time. The urge is especially strong this day as I managed to pick up a copy of the August Playboy, and read the “Interview” with Wm Sloan Coffin.  I doubt it has been evident in recent letters, which I seem to recall have been preoccupied with this silly game of musical-jobs at PA&E, but my feelings about the entire question of american involvement here are becoming more firmly against it with time, after going through a period of some ambivalence while I got my bearings. The more I see of how miserably we have bungled the job, and how little is being done to correct all the blunders, the less I want to be associated with it, even as peripherally as I really am.

Mulling these matters over at dinner tonight, I was struck by the fact that some of the most articulate and reasoned objections I’ve heard voiced against this business here have come from men on active duty IN the military. I suppose this is to be expected, since by no means all of the mil pers here are here by choice (!), while most of the civilians are.

And I, of course, am in the latter category. In the largest sense, in trying to leave behind one milieu in which I was consistently uncomfortable, I have moved into another! This was not entirely unforeseen—and since there is a plainly discernable time when it will no longer be necessary to remain in this situation (the end of my contract), I suppose I, too, can start marking off the days like so many people do here. The only thing that wrangles is the fact that for the duration I will be a part of something that I and many others think is wrong and indefensible. The only thing that partially offsets this is the knowledge that the money I’m getting is being paid for next-to-nothing useful to the movement—which is, in a sense, subversion, even if I am powerless to prevent it.

As you can see, I am going through a period of some confusion about just what to do. I don’t look forward to vacillating thus for 11 months! I’ve got to resolve the matter soon one way or another. One thing that would help would be to have some way to do something directly for the people here (outside of work). But I’m now on a 6-day week, which leaves precious little time for such activity: Sunday has to be a pretty quiet day—a little shopping, washing, etc.

Well—enuf of this for the moment. I’ve had almost no letters in nearly a month—largely as a result of my request to the PO to send my mail to Robb.

Luv to all~
Bruce

PS: Have you had any more word from Tai?

__________________

The answer to that last question was “no”: Tai was never seen or heard-from again.

Shortly before I departed, that awful statue of the VN soldier pointing his gun at the National Assembly Building was removed. It had been an eye-sore from day-one. Under it was a fountain!

A Fountain Underneath

My situation at PA&E was deteriorating. The office in which I sat eight hours per day was air-conditioned to a uniform 65º F, although the hallways between the offices remained above ambient due to sun beating down on the Quonset-hut. Ambient was generally above 100º. Despite wearing coats and sweaters, I realized one day I was on the verge of pneumonia due to the frequent temperature changes. Not only was my health impacted in this way, but the VC continued to rocket Saigon now and then, so one never knew when he might be “in the wrong place at the right time”.

I no longer recall what—if anything—happened to precipitate my decision. The long and short of it was, one day I turned to the gent there in the office with me (apparently, I was working under him, even though no one had made that clear) and said, “No offense meant, but you can take this job and shove it!” His reply was, “No offense taken, done!”

I filled out the necessary form later that day, and the rest, as they say, is history! Over the next few days, I made all the arrangements to depart on an Air Vietnam flight to Phnom Penh, with my Honda as excess baggage. The only thing I left to PA&E was to obtain my exit visa, and therein lies yet another tale, to be related soon.

Stay tuned!

NEXT

July 27, 2009
Before I continue my saga, there’s a couple of things to mention:

NATURE BOY

The response to this latest of my stories has been quite phenomenal: many have written to me about it, and all have urged me to continue it. So, I am doing so. It will be a while before it is ready to put up on Nifty, so keep your eyes open there.

BACK TO MY LETTERS FROM VIETNAM

Saturday, 10 February 68

Dear Folks,

Things are slowly (very slowly) getting back to normal. The general feeling is that another VC attack may come at any time, but so far it’s fairly quiet, and normal routines are being re-established. I’ve managed to get out to Long Binh twice this week, and tomorrow I and several others are moving out of this flea-bag flop-house to the Loc Building, where we were originally billeted and from which we were so summarily “evacuated” because of the stupidity of a minority of our group. Now that the group has been dispersed somewhat on assignments, we’re free to go where we choose. The Loc Building is as secure as any place in town—more-so in some ways. Until the curfews are entirely lifted and a normal way of life results, I expect I’ll stay at the Loc Building. My address, of course, for mailing purposes remains the same and will for some while.

I’ve even driven out to Long Binh twice in the vehicle assigned to me. I had the foresight before I left to pay $3.00 for an international drivers’ license, which many people do not have here. Driving is pretty hectic, what with the incredible traffic load, which is still not back to its usual levels because of curfews. Then, too, there are numerous ARVN & white mice check-points. Of course, if one is courteous and uses the usual hand signals, there’s no problem. The guys who drive here and get into trouble are inevitably the ones who drive as if they owned the place, which (naturally enough) displeases the Vietnamese. I’ve had no difficulty so far. The most important rule, of course, is to abandon any hope of getting anywhere by a specific time—one has to move at the traffic’s pace, whether that be dead stand-still (as it frequently is) or a snail’s-pace crawl, as is more usual. In town, it’s rare to get the truck into third gear!

I’ve only spent a couple of days at Long Binh, so haven’t been fully able to psych out  the situation. Everything has been so discombobulated by the VC attacks that normal routines (which are nearly always chaotic anyhow) still haven’t been pieced back together. Communication is a great problem, and there are still people unaccounted for. Because of the curfews, very few Vietnamese are available to work, so the lower echelon assistants just aren’t there. Curfews are being extended & ended & lifted in various precincts from time to time, but as there are still parts of town (notably Cho-lon & the Phu Tho rare-track) that are hot-beds of VC activity, the populace has to be restricted in its mobility The clippings enclosed will give you some idea of present situations here.

So—that’s the way it is. I hope all my letters have gotten through OK. The PT&T cable office is still not yet open to the public, & by now you should have had word from me, so I won’t cable.

Incidentally, the emergency connection to get through to me is through the LA office of PA&E. The telephone is [expunged] collect. Ask for [expunged]; he can radio messages; explain my location is Long Binh Post, and you could reach me within 12 hours, I suspect. Alas, under current circumstances I can’t work it the other way ’round!!

Love to all–
Bruce

Letters down to every-other-day now, signifying things were calming down.

Monday, 12 February 68

Dear folks –

By now I hope you’ve had all my letters, and know I am OK. I was on the “missing” list for 3 days as it turned out, simply because no one had checked me in at the CMO—I’d transferred by then to LB. But that’s how it is here—utter chaos—and I’m not sure but what that’s how it will be all the time.

Got your February 4th letter today—it went to Saigon first, then to Long Binh, so took a little extra time. [Family trivia deleted. The letter included a $10 bill, illegal in Vietnam].

Already got a swell birthday present as previously mentioned. It may be a while before I find anything costing $10 that I’d want to buy here; but I’ve had so little chance to see shops and so forth open, I don’t have too clear an idea of what’s available.

A new group of PA&E recruits arrived today, and a few are billeted here at the Loc Building. From what they tell me, the radio/press/TV coverage of the Saigon situation was greatly exaggerated. Make no mistake: there was a lot of bitter fighting here, a great many people killed & wounded, and some areas largely destroyed. But don’t believe 600,000 homeless and that sort of bilge. This morning I saw a group of about 50 AP news photos, mostly taken in Cho-lon. where the worst of the fighting took place. Not very pretty. But a realistic figure on the people displaced in Saigon would be no more than 5-8000; the refugees into the city from much harder hit (but smaller) cities stands around 30,000. Not that these figures aren’t bad enough, but nothing like the reports apparently circulating in the U.S.

Then too, most of the “homeless”, by any human standard, were “homeless” to begin with. The standard of living for at least 2.5 million people here is such as to make the worst of Harlem or Watts seem palatial. It is a wonder that any of the people in these areas survive—and of course, many don’t, even in “normal” times.

The American presence here is creating a fairly large upper class—land owners who lease various properties (such as this hotel) & buildings to the U.S. This situation accentuates the lack of any sizable middle class: Vietnamese tend to be either wealthy or very poor. The leading businesses, for the most part, are owned by Chinese, who have managed to move into the vacuum left by the French. Where the French moved in, created an economy and skimmed the cream off the top, we move in and simply destroy whatever economy is in place and substitute inflation—which makes the poor poorer.

(Later) Three of us just went next door to the Korean Officers Club & had a Korean dinner. Surprisingly good, which is quite a compliment, coming from a steak and potatoes fan like myself. Also, at Long BInh today I got the first decent meal I’ve had out there: it even included an unlimited supply of “filled milk”—reconstituted milk—which is the first I’ve had since leaving LA, and the only thing I’ve really missed since I left.

I’ve sort of become the unofficial chauffeur for the group of us who live more-or-less down town & work at Long Binh. This means driving the “turnpike” (the only 4-lane road in all Vietnam {except possibly the Ho Chi Minh Trail, which is mostly in Laos anyhow}), a distance of 20 miles or so. During these times when traffic is relatively light, it takes a half-hour; but when things get really moving again it will be more like an hour or more. But by then the buses (which are leased from Vietnamese firms and hence aren’t operating because of the curfews) will be running, & I can sleep the whole time as I understand most people do! The road is relatively safe—you can’t plant mines in a paved highway—and is only occasionally (and very temporally) cut by the VC.

It passes the outskirts of Bien Hoa (pronounced Bin Wa) where there was some bitter fighting over control of the highway, and a good many buildings were destroyed.

You can’t afford to go on Xeroxing my letters forever – but as soon as I get my first pay-check I’ll get a typewriter, which will enable me to carbon-copy everything to the family. I appreciate your doing it as long as necessary.

That’s about all for now. Unless the VC kick up more ruckus (some feel they are going to, some don’t), we should soon be settling down to a steady routine—about all that will mean is fewer letters, since there won’t be so much to wrote about!!

Love to all-
Bruce

The driving mentioned in the letter above was all done on my International Drivers License. Later on, I got the local license shown above. Wonderfully impressive, with all those stamps and chops. Yet, no one ever asked to see it during the entire time I was in Vietnam!

Valentine’s Day. 14 February 68

Dear Folks –

Managed to get some larger paper—makes for shorter letters and more economical use of your Xerox facilities!  I’m wondering a bit about whether you ever got the long letter No. 2 that I finally managed to send out unexpectedly when we were confined here. The envelope was poorly sealed; I hope you didn’t get it empty! If you did, a carbon copy went to friends in SF and I expect I could get them to Xerox it & send it on if necessary. [It wasn’t necessary—BB]

Life is slowly returning to normal. The Vietnamese are still, for the most part, under curfew from 7:00 am to 2:00 pm daily—5:30 in a couple of precincts only, so that not too many are able to work, especially those who ride out to Long Binh or other spots outside Saigon proper. Each day, though, sees new streets opened to traffic and other signs of a semblance of normalcy.

U.S. civilians are also under strict curfew from 7 pm to 8:00 am. This means we don’t get to long Binh until 9 (instead of 7:30), and when we leave at 5, we don’t get to Saigon until 6 pm, which leaves no time for eating. Here at the Loc building we’re lucky, inasmuch as there’s a restaurant of sorts on the premises, and the Korean Club next door which serves good food (we ate there again tonight) How soon the curfew is lifted is anybody’s guess, but barring another siege by the VC, my own guess is Monday.

I’ve sort of become the unofficial chauffeur (it’s official now—I got a military license today!) for the group of us who live near or in Saigon.

The buses leave only from Tan Son Nhut, and there’s no very practical way to get out there by the time appointed for it to leave. So every day I drive this bucking bronco of a Dodge 2-seater pickup out the Bien Hoa “Hiway” to Long Binh. It’s quite an experience, for traffic rules (if any) are only rarely observed by anyone, never enforced, apparently, and there are long convoys of heavy trucks, tanks and all that to thread one’s self in and out of! We picked up assorted people after working at LBI today en-route, and ended up with 15! Needless to say, many rode in the back—not a pleasant place to ride I guess; but it beats walking!

I used to have an occasional twinge of conscience when I worked only 7 hours per day at [former employer] but got paid for 8; I accomplished all the tasks I set for myself in that length of time, and everyone prospered, so nothing was ever said about it. But over here, the scale is something else again!! (Of course, nothing has been really “normal” since I got here.) I’ve put in, (exclusive of driving time which is some benefit I suppose) perhaps 20 actual hours of useful work since I arrived—and of that 20, about 18 has been filling out forms. If we never win this war, we ought to be able to bury the whole country in paper and start over! I even had an attack of “Federal Form-itis” last night: I was dreaming I was typing out a form justifying a personal visit to the loo!—and about the time I ripped it out of the typewriter as being just too ridiculous for words, I woke up! [and went to the bathroom—BB]

The army procurement system, after which PA&E is patterned of course, is too incredible; to imagine spending a lifetime in the system as a supply officer or some such would seem unbearable. And I’ve only just started. Compounded by the general ineptitude of the people using & running the procurement system, it is a marvel that anyone ever gets anything. Some way to run a war! And side-by-side with the shortage of staple items, like food, one has a glut of useless items, like staples!! The lab is equipped, for example, with literally hundreds of petri dishes (of an obsolete style) but lacks an analytical balance, the cornerstone of any quantitative lab operation. Oddly enough, two balances (not very clearly identified, but apparently good ones) are in the original “Schedule B” of items issued to PA&E under the contract, but no one has actually ever requisitioned either of them. That’s how it goes. I figure it’s optimistic to shoot for making the lab operational (for chemical analyses) by June 30. Through normal state-side channels, I could be in gear and going in two weeks!

Elsewise there’s not much to report. Haven’t had any chance, of course, to look for quarters—or much else. Having mailed myself a big box of sundry items (soap, etc.) which I finally picked up at Long Binh, and having a good supply of clothes along, I’m better off than many who got caught up in this mess. Will have to order a pair of shoes soon to be mailed down, but for the moment there’s no great rush.

Love to all—and please don’t worry about me. I’m pretty safe (as much as anyone here) and not given to looking for trouble, as I see many idiots doing. They find it. The self-appointed “protector” of our group (described in earlier letters) was sent home (thank goodness)!!

Love to all~
Bruce

I was beginning to get my feet on the ground and learn my way around Saigon. I learned so much from CA, and remember particularly one event. He said he’d take me as his guest to the Five-Os BOQ for a nice dinner: he still had his SOOM [Saigon Open Officers Mess] card that would get us in. By this time there was a fair amount of traffic on Phan-thanh-Gian street, and we decided to take a taxi. At the street, there were several other “round-eyes” (as we were often) called seeking a cyclo or taxi: they stood, waving their thumbs in the air as traffic ignored them. CA simply extended his arm out from his body and gave a little  motion with his hand: six taxis immediately screeched to a halt! We stepped into one of them and were off, leaving the other guys wondering how we’d managed. The secret, of course, was to keep my eyes open and observe how CA had indicated he wanted a taxi (which was, of course, the way the Vietnamese did it as well) and thereafter use the correct action. It worked every time.

In 1968, Saigon Taxis were little Renaults left by the French, and they were usually pretty well worn out. They dated from the 1950s, and were painted in blue and yellow. It was not unusual to look through holes in the floor-boards at the street passing below, but they usually got where they were going.  Maintaining these relics was a local industry: the French refused to provide spare parts, so if one wandered a bit off the beaten track in Saigon, one could find tiny machine-shops manufacturing parts for those taxis.

Similarly, Saigon (and I suppose the whole country) was  a gold-mine of old motorcycles:

I snapped this venerable BMW single parked at a curb one day, and saw it driven around town often. Early Indians could be found, and I even saw an Ariel Square-4 once!

However, the ubiquitous cycle by 1968 was the Honda 55, of which there were an estimated 3 million in Saigon at the time. I’ll have more to say about these later.

NEXT

February 6, 2009

I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll live long enough to finish this blog! In the narrative, I’m only out of high school, still confused about my role in relation to others, and not particularly sure what I might want to do in life. The narrative will continue, but on this page I want to discuss some contemporary items.

/rant mode on/

ADVERTISEMENTS ON THE TELLY

I watch a lot of TV. More properly, I sleep a lot in front of the TV. I have seen the first ten or fifteen minutes of hundreds of programs, but fall asleep during the first spate of commercials, largely because I turn off the sound, tune out  the subject, and nod off.

It amazes me to think there are thousands of people working in the advertising industry who sit around all day and come up this stuff! How can they live with themselves? What I see on cable (never watch regular TV) is so blatantly stupid and stultifying, its hard to imagine anyone can be so unimaginative as to think it up. Do they really think I am so stupid I would fall for any of their blandishments?

Here’s a few of the worst currently on cable:

• Nutrisystem, which spends five minutes trying to make me believe I can lose weight like the guys shown, while displaying a “results not typical” flag. So, if the results aren’t typical, why are they saying they ARE typical? “Three months of complete meals”, while noting that we have to “add-in grocery and produce items”? Then the meals are NOT complete. It is all a bunch of lies.

• L’Oreal “Regenerist” creme, $7.00 for an ounce bottle with ingredients worth a quarter at most (the bottle probably costs more than the contents). The comely lass in the ad is young and has a naturally flawless appearance for which she was selected. The inference is that using this crap will make someone look as nice as she does. Are there folks out there who fall for this? Can they be that stupid?

• Capital One Credit Cards.  Producing these ads, with dozens of actors, sets, stupid “plots” with the “What’s in your Wallet” punch-line must cost a fortune. They could afford to charge several percent less to the cardholders if they did not spend all this money on stupid ads like these. And, what’s in MY wallet is MY business! I can assure you there is no card from CapOne.

• Geico ads, with that stupid anthropomorphized gecko with a fake accent. I guess Warren Buffet can afford to saturate the radio and TV waves with this crap, but he could charge even less for the insurance if he’d spend less on these dumb ads. I even got a junk-mail offer from GEICO, which I sent back with a note: “Coming soon to an internet near you: Sick_of_GEICO_ads.com”. Somebody has to do it!

• Auto Insurance ads in general, now all promising to “save XX percent by switching to Bumfuck Insurance Company.” So, with a half-dozen switches, I could get my insurance down to zero? Not bloody likely!

• All Ads for women’s hair products. My stomach turns every time I see these, not because I am queer and could care less about most women or their hair, but because I know there are millions of women in the world who are lucky if they have even a scrap of soap with which to wash their hair, most likely in sewage. Imagine how much good the enormous sums spent on useless hair preparations in “developed” countries could do if spent in less developed countries.

• Automobile ads, especially the “cash-back” come-on. Do people really let themselves get hooked on that gimmick? It’s a loan added to the price of the car! The interest rate is exorbitant!  Or, the “zero interest” lie. Read the fine print: “$1.66 per hundred dollars financed” is 1.66 percent, which is NOT zero!

• ALL ads, with the “fine print” buried at the bottom of the screen, in non-contrasting lettering, and there for so short a time NO ONE can possibly read it!

/rant mode off/

I could go on like this, but you get the idea: advertisements are utterly wasted on me, and I suspect they are wasted on almost everyone. Time, effort and money down the drain!

ITS A LOT OF

Still, there have been a few adverts I like: the FedEx ad (below) with the cavemen was funny, but ran for only  a short time. [On the other hand, the cavemen GEICO ads are beyond stupid!] The home warehouse ad was entertaining as well.  There are lots of ads from over-seas that show europeans to be more discerning and clever at writing ads, and willing to be a bit risque at times. (My favorite is this Hyundai ad.  We see these on award programs for “best ads”, but we never see the ads themselves on OUR TeeVees.

There was ONE ad that induced me to buy a product. Very clever, but again it ran only a short while. The ad itself was perhaps 20 seconds in duration, but really packed a punch. The scene was a typical kitchen, with an empty table in the foreground. John Houseman walked on camera with a bottle of something clutched his hand: he plopped the bottle down vigorously on the table, looked into the camera with his wonderful scowl, and said “Use Puritan Oil!!!”  I was so intimidated I actually did buy a bottle: it was around for years, since I rarely cook with oil. But I loved that ad. Only three words—imagine that! [A much longer ad for Puritan Oil with Houseman in his inimitable style can be seen here.]

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS

More appalling than anything else, for me, is this: NONE of the perpetrators who have gotten us into this mess has yet gone to JAIL: my sense is that none will.

A friend of mine is fond of an old aphorism (I’ve no idea where it originated): “A fish rots from the head”. With George the titular head of our government, things went to pieces right down through government and the private sector as well. Dubya was never held accountable for anything he did, and everyone took that as their cue to do whatever they liked—no one would care. For the most part no one did! Now it comes to light that the SEC had been warned about Bernie Madoff ten years ago. Nothing was done. Many people foresaw the business downturn, especially those watching the sub-prime mortgage fiasco. Nothing was done. Many people warned Detroit to build better cars. Nothing was done. There was NO ACCOUNTABILITY.

Now, with nearly every system in the country breaking down and falling apart the Republicans still WANT TO DO NOTHING! There are even “conservative Democrats” who WANT TO DO NOTHING!

I’m beginning to wonder of anyone can ever set things right! President Obama has the right ideas for the most part, but obstructionists used to the old way of doing things in Washington are unwilling to work with him.

The current issue of The Nation (America’s oldest news magazine) has a fine article by Jonathan Schell (not his usual one-page piece, but a full-blown article) describing in detail how all the forces came together to get us into this fix. I have not finished the piece yet, so don’t know if he has a prescription for putting “Humpty-Dumpty back together again”.

TROMPE – L’ŒIL

Judging by my perusal of numerous gay blogs, the current “ideal man” seems to be a twenty-something (where something = ±2) fellow with six-pak abs. Now I read that many of these “chiseled abdominals” are painted on! Ain’ nuthin’ sacred?

Coming soon: I go to College. Stay tuned…

NEXT

MISCELLANEOUS

• I read a lot of blogs, including some by youngsters dealing with finding themselves gay. Of course, every situation is different, so there’s no universal advice to be given. Except to say, “hang in: as my own blog will eventually relate, I figured things out to my own satisfaction and had a full and interesting life. It does take time…

• While I empathize with these kids, I envy their ability to put together blog pages and web sites that are absolutely smashing! The process has pretty much defeated me so far. Maybe some cute young thing who likes old men (yeah, right!) will come along and give me a hand. With the blog, I mean…

• As it is developing, my format seems to be a chronological exposé of my life:  So far, I’m not even out of high school! But, the pace will pick up as I got out into the world. A buddy (well, he started out as a lover but things quickly degenerated) and I went to Europe the summer of 1963. This was my first glimpse into other life-styles. Later, I spent time in Vietnam, rode a motorcycle from Phnom-Penh to Singapore, worked in Australia, Philippines, Egypt, Ecuador and elsewhere, so there is much to tell. Here are a few photos to give you some idea of what’s in store:

Ready to depart Saigon, September, 1968, on a Honda CB-160

I have two saddle-bags and a cheap suitcase strapped on the luggage rack. The bike is a Honda CB-160 bought used from a compatriot leaving the country. The national assembly building in the background had been hit by a rocket a week earlier: note the canvas roof, top right.

All wood Siemens Train, Athens 1979

These beautifully maintained all-wood Siemens train-sets were still in use in Athens in 1978. I loved riding them. I hope some have been preserved.

Guayaquil & Quito Railroad, Ecuador, 1979

Perched on the tender of Engine Number 11 of the Guayaquil & Quito railroad, Ecuador, 1979. I had a fabulous time riding almost everything they had working at the time. I went back in 1994 to find very little of it running, and now there seems to be almost nothing left.

• Throughout it all I was queer—not flaming, but not really hiding it either. I had my share of “interactions”, and have no regrets, now that things are winding down.

• The chronology will be interrupted from time to time by observations on the current scene, political or other sorts of rants, and whatever else occurs that I think worthy of note.

To be continued …

NEXT

BEFORE I CONTINUE:

REGARDING XE, NEE BLACKWATER

I’ve mentioned elsewhere in this blog that PA&E might be considered a progenitor of the likes of Blackwater. It begins to look as if Blackwater was worse—a great deal worse—than PA&E was, or even thought it might have been.

Don’t get me wrong: an open-ended “cost + 10″ contract was  an invitation to steal, and many in the company DID. It was a situation rife for manipulation, and the firm abounded with manipulators. In my experience, for that company in that time, one could re-write the old adage: ”there’s a fresh apple in any barrel of rotten ones”: I did in fact meet and work with a few Americans over there who knew their stuff, were willing  to work hard, and who earned their keep. Most of those I met were a motley collection of drunks, lounge-lizards and misfits. On the other hand, I was never close to any of the top brass in PA&E: I expect there was a lot of hanky-panky going on I never saw.

But it begins to look as if Blackwater in Iraq has taken the “cost + 10″ concept to new depths. Allegations by two former employees, in sworn affidavits, accuse the company’s former CEO, Erik Prince, of arranging prostitutes (including children), deliberate murder, gun-running, cover-ups, lying and other horrors. Prince appears to be badly misnamed and up to his ears in complicity, and comes across as a far-right wing-nut out to kill as many “rag-heads” as he could. The Company has been denied permission to continue in Iraq, although it is pretty clear some of its operatives are still there.

I wonder how long it will be before some real charges are brought against this malevolent “sumbitch”, Prince. Sadly, Blackwater (now re-named Xe) remains is Iraq, and no doubt has its eyes on Afghanistan.

There’s more information here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackwater_Worldwide

http://edition.cnn.com/2009/US/08/07/iraq.blackwater.xe/

and many other places on the web.

SPEAKING OF IRAQ AND AFGHANISTAN. . .

Here is my next letter from Vietnam, written 41 years ago. I was struck, transcribing it, that it could be re-written today substituting “Iraq” for Vietnam, and it would be as true now as it was then.

AM – Monday, 26 February 1968

Dear Everyone~

The Long Binh bus failed to appear this morning, so after waiting until nearly 9 [since first-light, around 5], I walked back to the Loc Bldg and am writing this letter. I’ve been here just one month tomorrow, and can certainly claim no great accomplishment as yet. That’s the rule here, though, not the exception.

With painful slowness, Saigon is returning to something of a pre-Tet normalcy. Final figures on PA&E’s losses amounted to only 7 dead Americans, 8 Koreans and a few Vietnamese. Earlier reports of as many as 20-30 Americans killed resulted from interruptions of communications—a number of people were unable to report in any way, and were listed as MIA for a while. Open-market food & other prices have suddenly dropped back to something near 15-20% above pre-Tet, rather than the 100-200% that prevailed a couple of days ago. The dusk-to-dawn curfew affects only the bars, for the most part, and allows most other businesses to carry on pretty much as before.

The complexity of the American position here is beginning to come to the surface. President Johnson cannot be blamed rightfully for getting us involved; depending on one’s individual view, he may or may not be correct in his handling of affairs here. But on one point at least he can be strongly and rightfully criticized: for not telling us at home what’s going on. The “credibility gap” is wider than most people imagine. [I had received clippings from the States].

And regardless of who is to blame for it, Vietnam at the present time represents a colossal failure for America. We have not “won the hearts and minds” of the people here—our heavy-handed civilian population—the ugly Americans—have assured that. Neither have we succeeded in arousing any significant degree of nationalism—certainly nothing to compare with NVN & the VC. We have not brought a strong or popular central government, and needless to say we have not won the war by any means. But what are some of the reasons for these failures?

For one thing, we are still a “military assistance command”, largely devoted to providing support, materiel and training for ARVN. Remember, though, that it’s been 15 years or more (since Korea) that the commanders here saw any actual combat—and most of them did just that—they SAW it; they watched it, but didn’t participate in it. Even those combat veterans from Korea here now saw action in very different terrain, in very different circumstances, and, most significantly, in an offensive war (I use the term in its tactical sense!).

Vietnam represents the first time we’ve been on the defensive, and our military machinery is just not geared for it. It is demoralizing to the troops, particularly, to know where the enemy is and what he’s doing and how to stop him, but have to wait for the enemy to “make contact” before anything can be done. With some exceptions, any offensive against the VC must be cleared with VN authorities before it can proceed—and by the time clearance is obtained (and often it is denied) the VC have vanished—usually leaving behind some destructive memento for any unwary person to fall into.

The news today says that U Thant assures Pres. J. that if we stop bombing in the North (one of the areas where we have a fairly free hand), Hanoi will begin to negotiate in “a few days”. Johnson has replied—with some logic one has to admit, if not actual justification—that he must have first some assurance the NV will not use the “few days” to re-trench. Communist treachery is well known; North Vietnamese treachery is equally documented (if you want to distinguish between the two), most recently by the Tet debacle amidst their own truce declaration. Under these circumstances, both sides feel obliged to carry on “business as usual” until some other approach can be found.

There is a lot of sentiment here that our best approach at this point should be to seize the offensive and obliterate NVN, even if this requires the use of “Nukes”. Our reluctance to do this is frequently interpreted here as a) weakness b) softness on Communism c) actual collaboration with the communists (to prolong the war & boost our economy) and, least often, d) fear that such an action would lead directly to armed conflict with Russia or (worse) China. Thus, we are damned if we do and damned of we don’t, a dilemma we have somehow got ourselves into and from which extrication seems very remote.

Further complicating matters is the fact that the government we have pretty much single-handedly created, now that it is created, wants to govern in its own way (not necessarily an unreasonable desire, it seems to me)—and most particularly wants no truck with a coalition type set up with anybody (such as the NLF, or—God Forbid—with the NVN government).

Our Ambassador, Mr. Bunker, is one of the most thoroughly disliked Americans over here. The press gives lavish coverage to the afternoon Teas he has with the ladies, and otherwise ignores his presence whenever possible. His credentials as a statesman are questionable at best (he’s a good businessman, has made a fortune, etc; but he’s not here on “business” of that sort). Westmoreland is well enough liked, but his hands are so well tied that he’s not as effective as he should be.

The USAID program, which administers the various “pacification” attempts, is a colossal failure on every count. Not to mention the internal boon-doggling that amounts to millions of dollars, their usual approach has been to build schools, precinct stations and hospitals in the small towns—on a give-away basis; these structures have cost millions, and for a few hundred dollars worth of dynamite the VC have systematically destroyed them, or frightened the residents out of using them. The point that seems to be beyond anyone’s real appreciation is that in the provinces, political allegiance goes automatically to whoever provides the greatest protection against getting killed or losing one’s crops. Politics is a concept beyond the grasp of most of the provincial bourgeoisie, whose only desire is to be left alone to live their lives unmolested. It is essentially a feudal system in which the town Chief settles all disputes, collects taxes, and gives some measure of protection. If he is supported by the VC, we wipe out the whole town with the argument (albeit a non-sequitur) that they’re all VC. Admittedly, the VC do the same exact thing if the town Chief goes along with us. But the failure to protect the lives and property of millions of South Vietnamese during this last offensive has been a bitter pill for a lot of people to swallow, and is resulting in a lot of shifting allegiances. The final outcome, of course, has yet to happen.

What is the way out of this quick-sand? If we summarily withdraw, mutual assistance pacts all over the world will be torn up by the hundreds, and a global re-allignment of allegiances would result—almost certainly to Russia and China’s benefit. If we bring Hanoi to the conference table, the result  almost certainly will be another “Pueblo crisis” off the waters of North Vietnam fifteen years from now. If we obliterate NVN (especially if we use Nukes) can we ever again call ourselves the world’s peacemakers?

I still am inclined to feel that the honorable way out is through the Geneva Convention of 1954, to which we have never paid more than lip-service, but which still contains a workable formula for the reunification of Vietnam. Ho Chi Minh would be elected—and not very long later he would die, as he soon must in any event, for he is both old and unwell. The crux of this is still the question of whether Ho’s power stems from fervent nationalism of fervent communism; it is hard to imagine VC suicide-squads being ready to die a certain, violent death for the sake of a concept such as communism—a concept both “foreign” in the sense of being alien—and foreign in the sense that it goes against established traditions. But suicide-squads willing to die for their country? What is so strange in this? We ourselves have used this gambit from 1776 on, and technological superiority is all that has made it a successful gambit in the past. Our refusal to recognize our own Nationalism for what it is blinds us to the possibility that others may feel as fervently—and as righteously—about their country as we do about ours. It is sheer stupidity to become involved against nationalistic trends—ask any Frenchman (or, for that matter, Englishman) and  he will have to agree, if only because he has been forced to in recent years.The sun is about to set on the U.S. empire, too, and it is high time we realized it.

That’s how it looks after a month here—it will be interesting to see if the next months change this view in any significant way.

The weather continues perfect as far as I am concerned—warm, sunny, consistent from day to day, and thoroughly enjoyable. Haven’t had even the suggestion of a cold since I got here!

Cheers—
Bruce

A typical street scene in 1968 Saigon

Note the relative size of the Army tractor and the little Peugeot taxi! This is probably Tu Do Street, which was one-way, but the bicyclist is going in the wrong direction, and risks being wiped out by a deuce-and-a half at any moment. I did not carry a camera with me most of the time in Vietnam: there were still folks there who objected to having their photo taken, and one risked a confrontation over a random snap-shot. I did have a camera though: a Kodak Instamatic, and I used it much more when I departed Vietnam on my motor-cycle trip.

The Kodak Instamatic

The camera was later stolen in Bangkok, but I managed to get it back! Unfortunately, rather than have films developed  along the way, I accumulated the rolls and had them all done when I got back to the states. This led to some film deterioration (that will be seen here in future images), but for the most part I got decent pictures of my adventures.

Stay tuned for more letters, and remember you can discuss these adventures with me at [email protected]

NEXT

Everything up to this point had gone too smoothly! I felt it wise to arrive at the airport well before departure time. Just after lunchtime, I rode to Tan Son Nhut and stopped outside the compound. There, I drained what little fuel remained in the tank, then walked the bike into the passenger terminal. I was able to take one picture as the Air VN chaps assisted me:

Tan Son Nhut Compound

beyond this point all photos were forbidden.

Getting out of Vietnam in those days was complicated by the currency restrictions. After relinquishing the bike, and presenting my ticket

Air Vietnam Ticket

everything was in order. The bike disappeared, my luggage as well. The next step was to convert money. Whatever MPCs and Dongs I had I turned in for US Green: not a lot, less than a hundred dollars as I recall. Henceforth I expected to rely on travelers checks.

The last step was emigration, where I presented my passport and ticket, which the Officer examined closely. He then said, “You can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Your ticket is to Phnom Penh, but the Exit Visa reads to USA.”

I knew there was no arguing, so simply retrieved my documents, stepped back, and joined the throng in the waiting room. When I got near the main entrance, I stepped out and hailed a taxi. I waved a $20 US under the driver’s nose and said, “get me to Immigration!”

Mind you, had I been stopped for any reason, having a wad of Green on me would have been difficult to explain and would likely have landed me in jail!

There followed a wild ride across Saigon: the taxi driver wanted that 20 bucks, but when we got to Immigration I held the money and told him to wait. I knew he would!

Inside, I found a fellow at a long counter who asked what assistance I needed. Fortunately, he spoke english, so I was able to show the documents and explain the problem. He rummaged around under the counter, pulled up a carton full of papers, and pawed through them: before long, he came up with the form I had prepared long-hand for PA&E; attached to it was the typed form some harried secretary at PA&E had copied. My long-hand version showed Cambodia, but the typed version showed USA. Since I was probably the only american who had ever left VN to go to Cambodia (virtually all US employees went back to the US) it was an easy mistake for her to make.

Examining the papers, the fellow said, “I can see how that happened, and I can fix it.” He picked up a pen, annotated the passport with a “(1)” next to USA, and wrote above “(1) via Cambodge”. With a chop, the deed was done. I thanked him profusely. He did not ask for payment, and he got only my everlasting gratitude!

Exit Visa Saigon

(Arrows point to the critical additions.)

Needless to say, the taxi was waiting, and I got a second wild ride across Saigon, where I was able to “infiltrate” the crowd and eventually present my documents once again to the Officer. He studied them intently, but finally said, “I’ll never know how you did that, but I cannot stop you now.” He added the exit chop and waved me through into the waiting area. I had at least an hour to kill before the plane was to leave!

The bike was loaded after I got on the plane, so I did not know with certainty that it was with me until I saw it off-loaded at Pochentong. I snapped one photo from the plane, which I did not expect to come out at all. Oddly enough after all these years, I can scan that photo and just use an enhancement in the scanner to bring it out better than it actually is!

Vietnam from the Air

The white spots are clouds, but the strips in the center near the bottom are recent strafing-runs.

It isn’t far from Saigon to Phnom Penh—about 180 miles—so the flight was short. There were very few passengers aboard. I snapped a photo of the tower at Pochentong as we taxied in,

Tower at Pochentong

then dashed off the plane in time to get a shot of the guys unloading the motorcycle.

Unloading the Motorcycle

I was finally out of Vietnam! Let the adventures begin!

But first, I had to get the cycle out of Customs. I left it behind and took a bus into town: it was growing late, I was tired, and I figured I could go back the next day and retrieve the machine.

Yeah, right!

Stay tuned!

NEXT

February 22, 2009

MJC

First, I must tell you that my college days were nothing like the story I wrote years later called College Daze! That was written with the benefit of hind-sight, looking back on how it might have been If I had been “out”.

But, I was not out. This, despite the Creative Writing teacher who certainly was! I enjoyed his class and learned much, but as a person he had a couple of drawbacks: he was “nellie”, and he was too old for my already developing taste for peers and younger.

I was befriended by two older girls, who did show up in the story: these were the first lesbians I encountered in my life, even though I heard the term “lesbian” much later. One of these gals was a sort of “plain Jane”, far from ugly and feminine in her own way. Her mate was one of the ugliest women I had ever met! She was the butch one. Still, it was clear they both adored each other, and I’ve often wondered what became of them. I thought vaguely that guys might have similar relationships, and given the chance I would have related in any way he chose with the pole-vaulter that year! But my on-going infatuation with Jim and (and his nice dick), his camera, (and his nice dick) and his old cars (and his nice dick) took care of my libido.

So, I sailed through two years at Junior College with fair grades despite almost no studying. I had a knack for figuring out what the teachers wanted, and I fed it back to them. All except the “instructor” for my American History course. The man was a fervent Republican which led to many diversions from the topic, and the class occurred directly after lunch. I slept through most of his dreary lectures, and flunked the course cold. This meant I did not graduate from JC (American History was a requirement, and I had to repeat—and pass—it several years later). No doubt my Dad was disappointed, but I didn’t really care.

In an off moment somewhere along the JC years I submitted a poem to a competition sponsored by a small private college in southern California. The work garnered an honorable mention, so I decided to leave home for the remaining two years of college. I was in for something of a shock!

UR

Set, in those days, among a few surviving orange groves, the University of Redlands was said to be the “best Methodist school the Baptists have”. I got in on decent grades, my honorably-mentioned poem, and not much else. (Dad’s money helped!) Rather unexpectedly, I gravitated to the Music Department because of the large pipe organ in the chapel: I had always loved pipe organ music, and so to my Dad’s dismay I jumped from Science to Music. I quickly deduced that I could no longer give the instructors “what they wanted”, because what the organ professor wanted was that I could read music and play the damn thing, which of course I could not do. I struggled along, but had no real musical performance talent.

The organ department then had about 30 students, the music school perhaps a hundred. Of the organ students, I was to learn, all were queer, and of the other musicians, many were. Unfortunately, I learned all this just as was leaving Redlands! Throughout the academic year I was there, when I needed “relief” I drove my battered old Nash out into the hills and flung my seed upon the ground, for want of any better place.

Most of those wank sessions were enlivened by fantasies about an absolutely gorgeous boy living in Cortner Hall one floor below.

However, not one soul ever approached me, tried to being me out, or even mentioned what was going on right under my own nose: wild parties (off campus) which I expect I would have enjoyed immensely.

I did learn one important lesson at Redlands. The catalogue said it was “alcohol free”, and having been raised by my tee-totaling parents, I thought I’d fit in well. Yet, within a week or two of arriving and settling into Cortner, someone suggested we have a party in my room one Saturday night. Vodka and orange juice materialized: vodka was thought to be undetectable by smell, so we would be “safe” having a simple party. Unfortunately, the group assigned ME the job of bar-tender, so I was making “screwdrivers” with a ratio of 4 to 1. That’s four parts vodka to 1 part OJ! Things went along OK for a while, but suddenly the other fellows in the group disappeared! About the same time, I realized I was drunk, never having been so before. We had all consumed far more than we should, and too rapidly: the others fertilized the bushes in the quad, but I managed to stagger to the terlet before becoming very, very sick. Repeatedly! It took me a week to recover, and I have never been anywhere near that drunk since. I reasoned that if that’s what alcohol does to you, I want no part of it!

About a week before departing Redlands for summer vacation,  one of the organ grad students who lived off-campus asked me to dine at his apartment, and suddenly, all was revealed. He told me about homosexuals (first time I’d heard the word), lesbians (ditto), and many, many other enlightening things about “being gay” et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. The revelation for me was that there were other people just like me, who preferred to look at and (hopefully) interact sexually with other boys. My informant regaled me with tales of his own activities, played old Ray Bourbon records, explained the rudiments of cruising and made it clear I could relax and begin to think in terms of being queer without worrying much about it. He did not “bring me out” in the sense of having sex with me: like most everyone I’ve ever met, he was not attracted to me. I had simply triggered his GayDar, and he assumed I was out!

I left the University of Redlands intending to return, even though I sensed it was not the right place for me. It was something of a “rich-kids” school, and it was costing my Dad a lot of money for me to be there. It was super-abundantly clear I would never be another Virgil Fox, even though I had at least one prerequisite: I was queer. I was, however, not yet willing to let other people know it.

I had gotten a summer job in Santa Clara, California, where my life took another turn.

To be continued:  I find the way to San Jose.

[email protected]

NEXT

There came a time in my stay at Alexandria when for some reason we had several days off. A group of us arranged to tour what’s known as “Upper Egypt”, although on the map it seems like lower Egypt, since it is far south of Cairo. Remember, unlike most of the world’s rivers, the Nile flows northward.

We flew first to Abu Simbel, the site of the monuments to himself Ramses II built in the 13th Century BC. These huge monuments had to be moved to higher ground before the Aswan Dam was constructed. There’s much more about this World Heritage site here and elsewhere on the net, with many photos. (I don’t seem to have had a camera with me on this trip, as no photos survive that I took).

The red arrow points to Aswan

This part of the tour occupied a half day, and we returned to the town of Aswan, located some distance below the High Dam. We stayed at the new Winter Palace, and after dinner, I walked the short distance into town, which stretches along the banks of the Nile river. It was a typical balmy night. Returning to the hotel, I found a nice walkway that hugged the river bank, then went up the slight wooded hill above town. Here I noticed a number of men sitting around on convenient benches, and realized I had found the local cruising spot! It was certainly one of the nicest ones I’ve found anywhere in the world, with lovely views of the Nile passing by. I helped myself to a couple of cocks that were offered, but unfortunately, just as I was finding some younger chaps, I realized I was being attacked by a case of Pharoah’s Revenge, also known as “Mummy Tummy”, and I had to make a bee-line for the hotel. There, I discovered to my dismay that the Lomotil tablets I was sure I had packed were nowhere to be found. I spent a miserable night “pissing through my asshole” (as it were). Emptied and shaky, I went down for breakfast and the first of our group to show up was our Thai draftsman. I explained my predicament and he went back to his room and brought me a small packet of something he’d brought from Thailand. It looked like the little green pellets we used to feed our rabbits, but he assured me it worked. Boy! Did it! I didn’t “move” again for over a week!

Later that day we flew again, this time to Luxor, where we stayed a couple of days. From there, we returned to Alexandria and work.

However, I had fallen in love with Aswan, and determined to return. As luck would have it, however, I did not get back there until 1981, and then I had a fine time. But much transpired before 1981, so my tales of Aswan will have to wait.

Meanwhile, here are some miscellaneous items related to my stay in Egypt:

Many stamps in Arabic

More visas and so forth

I don’t recall what this was for

I was asked one day by one of the International team who was passing through Alex if I had any interest in going to Ecuador. I replied in the affirmative, but heard nothing for several months. The next time the same dude showed up, I enquired about Ecuador: “Oh, do you really wanna go there?” he asked. I said, in essence, “anything to get out of Alexandria”, and he said, “Fine: I’ll set it up!”

In the fullness of time, I was transferred to Quito, where there was a study going on to get more drinking water for the city. The notion was to tap streams high in the Andes: these streams ordinarily flowed east into the Amazon basin, but could be tapped and moved through bore-holes to the west slope, where they would flow into the Boca Toma river, which could be dammed to make a lake, from which water would be pumped up a short distance to existing treatment plants for Quito. My job was to take teams up into the Andes to sample these streams and to assess the quality of the water they might produce. This meant taking long trips by 4-wheel-drive vehicles into the sparsely inhabited lands above Quito, where we found haciendas with horses to rent and guides, which we used to get the samples.

Here is the only known photo of ME on a horse!

We reached altitudes well above 14,000 feet

A month or two into the work, we got the local holiday, Carnival. By this time we had learned we could take a railbus from Quito down to Guayaquil, and we obtained the necessary tickets. I still have my long-hand letter describing that adventure, and in my next page I’ll transcribe that, and illustrate it with photos taken on that very trip. After that I can regale you with many photos taken on subsequent rides on the G&Q, the narrow-gauge railway that climbed the Andes mountains, and was still somewhat operational in 1979. Here’s just one photo to whet your appetite!

Locomotives are fascinating!

I rode the tender behind this little steamer many times: it could make it to the town of Bukay, where  consolidations took over for the main climb up to Alausi. Stay with me for MORE about the Ferrocarriles Ecuatoreanos G&Q!

NEXT

Rex BOQ, Saigon

In 1965, the National Geographic had an article about Saigon, in which this photo appeared. The well-lit building is identified as the “Abraham Lincoln Library, a facility of the United States Information Service”. Now that I think on it, the USIS did indeed have the ground floor as I recall, but the rest of the structure was the Rex BOQ. The corrugated cover over the “rooftop club” had not been erected when this photo was taken. Le Loi Boulevard is at the right, heading southwest.

National Geographic Map of Saigon, 1965

This map, also from the June, 1965 issue of the National Geographic will help my readers identify some of the places I’ve mentioned so far. Much of the city was essentially off-limits to a tall american like myself: I stood head and shoulders above everyone in a Vietnamese crowd, and as such was perfect sniper-bait.

I continue with my letters—here are the next two:

21 April 1968

Dear Everyone~

I’m still using up this small paper that was all I could get when I first got here. Now that Xerox copies aren’t being made of my letters, I guess it’s OK.

Todd remarks in his last letter that the word I had in-tended to use was beaucoup. Now, “beaucoup” is correct as far as French goes, but it has been transliterated into Vietnamese as Boo Coo. Oddly I have been able to discover only two words of french origin that have come into every-day use by the Vietnamese, boo coo being one and “fini” being the other. But of course there are boo coo English words now coming into the language, one of the more amusing being “cao boi”. One reads about the Saigon cowboys in the states from time to time—they’re the Vietnamese equivalent of our “gangs”, and the starting point for their excursions is quite obviously american TV and movies. It is amusing. if rather tragic, to see some of them all dolled up in wild clothing (”Mod” is in vogue here right now)—and not one of them tall enough to reach my arm-pit. For the most part, they occupy themselves with minor thievery, draft evasion, and such, and so far have not gotten into the big-time dope and all that. SInce marijuana is indigenous and used at times by most everyone, there’s certainly no future in that!

The week here has been fairly uneventful. It is clear that any program I have hopes of establishing must wait until Dan Smythe goes—which should be fairly soon according to all the indications I can get. He simply has no vision whatever, and will delegate no responsibility. The operations group has been moved out of the lab, so now I have an office and a desk. By virtue of rescuing a typewrite from the PDO (Property Disposal Officer) and rebuilding it myself, I also have a typewriter. So far, no filing cabinet, and no supplies to work with whatever. When people bring in samples, I just tell them to report to their installation manager or commanding officer (as the case may be) that we are non-functional due to lack of supplies and I’m very sorry we can’t do anything for them. This alone should eventually bring about some pressure to get out from behind the eight-ball, probably about the time I finish my 18 months.

Dan’s latast bug is that I am supposed to visit all the PA&E installations on a sort of PR mission to tell them what the lab will someday be able to do for them, etc., etc. But as I see it, this is putting the cart before the horse: I concieve of myself looking ridiculous with a line like that, and would much rather make the tour armed with instructions and so forth showing capability NOW to do this that and the other, and please comply.

The weather remains about the same. Scattered showers now and then for brief periods, and continued warm. I am enjoying perfect health as the warmth seems to agree with me surprisingly well.

Looked for the April issue of National Geographic yesterday, but the March issue is still on the stands here at the equivalent of $1.50, yet! I assume it is the April Issue that has the article on Saigon, and it isn’t due here for another  day or so.

Todd’s letter expressed surprise about my finding a stamp-store in Saigon. You must understand that with the exception of the curfew, now 9PM to 6AM it is business as usual in Saigon, and  in the down-town section there are stores of every description open and doing a thriving business. Products from all over the world are readily available at fairly reasonable prices, if one shops around for them. There are at least three stamp stores down there, and I’ve passed others in various part of town. Everything is terribly overcrowded, and there are times when one can hardly move—walking—on the streets. The only businesses hurting now are the bars and prostitutes, since military passes are scarce, and the bars must close about 8:30. Now that Abrahms is to take over from Westy, there will be a wholesale removal of military from Saigon—a welcome and wholesome idea as far as I can see, but it will mean quite a bit of re-training of Vietnamese people when they go!  Apparently, Long Binh will become the military center for this area—already a large expansion program is under way to accommodate the influx.

Replying to Dad’s question, I still plan to get an 8mm movie camera, and possibly an inexpensive tape machine so I can send narratives along with the films. So far I haven’t had much time to explore this, though. Our PX privileges are limited to items $25.00 or less (recently upped from $10.00), which will allow for an adequate (though hardly hi-fi!) tape machine. The camera I have to get on the local economy, which will require some shopping ’round—and so far I haven’t even seen the model I want.

Luv again~
Bruce

As the next letter describes, I found and rented an apartment. Essentially, it was a single large room with a balcony looking out over Le Loi Boulevard. The “kitchen” had been stuffed into what was originally a closet, and was essentially non-functional. I opened the cupboard under the sink there and saw numerous beady eyes looking back (huge roaches). So I said, “OK fellas: I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me!”—I never went near the kitchen again! The bathroom was off in a corner, rather rudimentary, with only cold water. Where the toilet emptied I never wanted to find out!

Sat. 27 April 68

Dear everyone~

Well, quite a lot has happened this week—nothing really earth-shaking, but enough to keep me busy!

Monday evening our bus broke down on the outskirts of Saigon (Gia Dinh), and I guess they didn’t get it fixed overnight, because it didn’t show Tuesday AM. So, I took the opportunity to look for an apartment. The owner of the Hotel I’ve been in since reaching Saigon decided rather suddenly to convert it to apartments, and the prices he proposed to charge for them were outrageous, so I decided to move. I found quite a nice studio apt right downtown, a bit closer downtown than I really wanted, but too nice and convenient to pass up. The new address is 49/1é Etage Dai Lo Le-Loi. That’s No 49, upstairs, first floor, Boulevard LeLoi, in English! The cross street, if you have the Nat’l Geographic map handy, is Pasteur. The Long Binh bus comes in LeLoi and turns out Pasteur in the morning, and comes in Cong-Ly to Le-Loi in the evening, so I’m much better located in that respect. Can sleep until 0600, get ready and go to breakfast at the Rex BOQ (corner LeLoi & Nguyen Hue), and catch the bus just before seven AM: in the evening, barring hold-ups on the hiway, I’m back to the apartment by 1800. All this is really a big improvement over former location. The place has a ti ti kitchen, reefer, and all conveniences except hot water—and I intend to rectify that just as soon as I can!

As if to answer my question whether or not electrical storms are known here, we’ve had three this week already! Monday night’s was a ways off but quite a show; Thursday there was another visible from LB, and some rain there. But this afternoon, mua mua (monsoons) hit Saigon for the first time, really. It took me (and a lot of others!) by surprise: about 4 I stepped on to a bus bound for the Cho Lon PX; it was just spitting a little then, and didn’t look like it would amount to much. Within a few minutes, it really began to pour, and walking the fifty-odd yards from the bus-stop into the PX I got SOAKED to the skin. It continued like that for close to two hours; I got re-soaked getting back to the bus—by this time the PX yard was 6 inches deep in water. We drove through foot-deep water on the way back into town, and there were, of course, jillions of stalled cycles, cars, trucks and so forth all along the way. I got drenched again going from the bus stop to the apartment, and after shedding my wet clothes, stood in my front window to watch the pandemonium on Le-Loi BouIevard for awhile—it, too was nearly a foot under water in places. About 1545 I stretched out for a nap—and when I awoke an hour later the rain had stopped and the street was clear of water! it is still wet out, but not raining, and the temperature is now about 70 degrees—quite delightfully cool by Saigon standards. Amidst all the rain, there was much lightning—some of it struck very close to the PX when I was there: quite noisy and spectacular.

We are all expecting another Tet-type offensive by the VC on or about May 1. You may hear of it before I, as before! Hopes for any real peace-talks are dimming rapidly here. Radio Hanoi has, predictably, been making propaganda hay out of Johnson’s hedging on the location, as any idiot would expect them to do: I am as inclined as they to suspect his motives, in view of his shifting positions. It has been said by some that China has nearly fifteen Divisions of troops stationed along the NVN border to assure that Hanoi will not go to any peace talks. Naturally, with our absurd policy towards China, there is no way for us to properly assess their role in this whole thing. The big question that nearly everyone gets ’round to asking after being here any length of time is when—in Heaven’s name—are we going to wake up? And if we ever do, will it be, as usual, too late?

It’s about time I turned in. All is quiet now. There were six mysterious explosions around town (probably incoming rockets) about 0230 this AM but then all was quiet again. What tonight holds no one knows, as usual. My friends in the Bamboo Telegraph tell me the VC won’t do anything this time  but, as with all that one hears here, I don’t rely on that much: it’s a perpetual game of “wait and see”.

Love to all
Bruce

More letters coming up!

NEXT

CLARIFICATION NEEDED

I began my last page with comments about Xe/Blackwater.

PA&E and Blackwater had very different missions: in Vietnam, we were principally working in support of the military: maintenance of equipment and facilities was the biggest part of it. We worked closely with RMK-BRJ, whose mission was construction of facilities for the US Army. Many projects by RMK-BRJ, when completed, were turned over to the Army, then to PA&E for maintenance.

Blackwater’s mission in Iraq, however, was protection, mainly of US Embassy personnel and high-level visitors.

With that out of the way, here are two subsequent letters:

8:30 PM Sat. 02 March 1968

Dear Everyone~

Guess I’d better write a letter to all, although there is getting to be less about which to write. I fired off a short note directly to Todd [brother] inasmuch as his letter sounded so alarmed about the possibility of Saigon being wiped out. Your news is apparently being exaggerated grossly. I saw a clipping a fellow at work had the other day, from a Ventura paper. Some fellow, arriving about the same time as myself, had written a letter home. which had been passed on to the newspaper and liberally quoted. It contained such gems as “87 PA&E Americans killed”, “thousands of Vietnamese civilians killed in Saigon”, etc. ad nauseam. It will be accepted as gospel, alas, despite the fact it was, when written, untrue, and is still largely so.

The battle at Hue was, of course, much more severe and the loss of life and property staggering. Apparently, the VC slaughtered civilians there wholesale when they moved in—a favorite tactic to ensure “support” from the remaining population. The city is virtually wiped out now, and certainly will never be the same again. . .

Day before yesterday, very early in the AM the VC managed to somehow blow up three Equipment.Inc trucks at the Thu Duc intersection on Hiway 1. One truck was loaded with 55-gal drums of ammonia, while the other two were loaded with—of all things—G-rations. We understand two drivers were killed, but there has been no official report. When our bus arrived about a quarter to 8, the traffic jam was simply not to be believed. It was an hour and a half before we got through, and I’m sure traffic backed up all the way to Saigon. At one point, there were ten traffic “lanes” abreast, all outbound on the 4 lane highway + shoulders + ditches + fields beyond! Incredible—but typical of the sort of thing that happens from time to time. Hundreds of people were picking over the rubble of the burned tins, scavenging whatever they could, which added significantly to the confusion!

I spent this AM at the CMO office, where I picked up some very valuable information. I’ve decided to “go for broke” on setting up a functional laboratory. It will incur the everlasting enmity of Dan Smythe (because I plan to get the lab transferred out of his jurisdiction) and a few others—which bothers me not a bit. The plan hinges on getting the cooperation of the 20th Preventive Medicine Unit at Bien Hoa, which has the power to make an inspection and wrote an unfavorable report, which ought to shake PA&E up a bit. Of course, the result might be to abandon the whole thing—but at least that would get it out of the absurd state of limbo it now is in. This latter would mean I’d have to be reassigned to another job classification—pity!—so I may end up driving trucks or something.

Here is an example of the kind of tom-foolery that goes on over here, though. A few days ago, our electricity went off [at Long Binh Post HQ]. Having nothing better to do, Mr. [redacted] and I went over to the generator shed to see what was wrong. The generator operator (who presumably has a perfectly good name but who is known by the all-too-pervasive appellation of “papa-san”—a corruption that grates on my nerves whenever I hear it) explained in poor but passable English that the generator brushes were worn out, hence no excitation, and so no output. Brushes are supposed to be replaced after 500 hrs operation, but these had logged 3000 hrs and hence were no longer long enough to reach the commutator. Well, this sounded reasonable to me. About this time, 4 or 5 fellows arrived to see what was wrong (all “TCNs”). They proceeded to start the unit and try every switch and control on it: still no output, so they shut it down. About this time the American Elect. Maint. Spvsr. showed up, and he went through the same rigamarole of starting it up, working all the switches, etc. Now, the “cycles” gauge was the only one that showed anything at all, and it would only go to 47, instead of 60. (When there is no excitation, though, this gauge is meaningless). Nonetheless, the Spvsr decided the engine wasn’t running at speed and that the fuel filter must be plugged up. So he set the fellows to removing and cleaning that. That operation complete, the unit ran exactly as before—no output. Next, the supervisor explained that there were no replacement brushes in stock, so it would be necessary to move to a standby generator and repair the faulty one later. So, a “deuce-and-a-half” (2½ ton truck) and crane were secured, a new unit was moved in, and work was begin on getting it set up. It was minus two fan-belts on the engine—none in stock— but a used one was found and the crew fell to getting it hooked up. The supervisor remarked to me that “papa-san” had spent 20 years in France as an electrical engineer. While all the other activities had been going on, he [Papa-san] had quietly chattered at someone else who went away, and who presently returned with a whole handful of brushes, exactly the right part-number and all. So, while the other crew was working on the stand-by unit, “papa-san” was quietly inserting the new brushes—about a 20 minute operation—and needless to say, both generators got running—perfectly—at the same moment. About an hour and a half was lost, needless labor was consumed, and so forth. What a waste—and what a waste of talent to have an electrical engineer as a generator operator!

So – situation remains status quo – for the moment. I’m going to write a couple of short notes to Todd & Rob [brothers] which you can send along with the copies of this epistle. Tomorrow is Sunday – I may try again to learn something about the organ in the Cathedral; so far I can’t find any priest in the place who speaks English!

Love to all—
Bruce

_____________________________

Monday, 4 March 1968

Dear Everybody~

Once again today—no bus to Long Binh. Apparently the schedule has been moved up a half-hour, but I wasn’t informed (being at CMO Saturday), so I missed it. Pity!

In desperation, have been doing some reading of late. Here at the Hotel there’s a curious collection of pocket-books left by various itinerants. Among them I found “The Rothchilds”—a very entertaining account of that family’s past and current history. Also I found “The Heart of the Matter” by Grahame Greene, which has some remote parallels to my current situation, and which otherwise is a good yarn. Also found a book—title forgotten already—on the Sacco-Vinzetti business which is also interesting. There doesn’t seem to be much else of interest in the collection, but pocket books galore can be picked up downtown—and it looks as though I’ll be doing more reading than planned, since the 7 PM curfew appears likely to remain in effect for some while. After that goes, I hope to get active in the Vietnamese-American Association (VAA), a little-known (in the States) organization devoted to teaching the Vietnamese in a sort of adult-education night program. It is 4 nights a week, I understand, and pays a stipend (which I cannot legally accept, but can give to charity). It would give me a feeling of accomplishing something worthwhile to get involved in this. (Presently, of course, its activities are suspended. . . )

The enclosed articles (Saigon Sunday Post, 3 March 68) are just for general information.

Yesterday PM I went to the Rex BOQ “cookout”, where for $2.50 [MPC] one picks out his own choice of Filet Mignon or T-bone steak and cooks it on charcoal broilers set up on the “roof garden”—it was very good, and I got two large glasses of milk to go with it. Accidently dropped my dark glasses, though, & broke one lens cleanly into two pieces. I’ve repaired it with Epoxy today and ordered another from my optometrist in SF, which will take ten days or so.

All the news fit to scrawl for now!

Love to all,
Bruce

the Rex BOQ (formerly the Rex Hotel) commandeered by the Army

This was the Rex BOQ (formerly the Rex Hotel) commandeered by the Army. The dark structure at street level is a generator shed. The greenish stuff at the top is the “roof garden”, an added structure (mainly made out of scaffolding and corrugated plastic). Note the jeeps on the street along with a the Peugeot taxi. The street is Le Loi Boulevard. The Rex billeted a lot of upper-level Army Brass: I’m sure that if “walls could talk” the place could tell some fascinating tales!

Later on I lived a block away from the Rex, and when the rainy season hit, the sound of monsoon rains falling on that plastic roof was deafening!

Stay tuned for more adventures in Vietnam, coming up soon.

NEXT