M Y O B

From a fellow PA&E-er who was rotating out, I bought a larger motorcycle which I felt confident would be better for driving long distances. It was a Honda CB160 like the one shown below:

Honda CB160

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Sunday PM, 28 July 1968

Dear everyone~

Once again, two weeks have passed since I wrote—largely because there just hasn’t been anything worthwhile to write about. There still isn’t, actually. . .

The sixteenth of July came and went without incident (for some reason rumor had it that that was the day the VC would launch their next “thing”). The twentieth (anniversary of the Geneva Accords) did likewise, as have all the days since. There have been a few incidents of terrorism, mostly in Cho Lon. The VC apparently had counted on the Chinese contingent in SVN swinging to their cause, but the violence of their Tet and May 5 offensives brought about just the opposite result; hence the VC terrorists are directing their efforts to the Chinese in retaliation for the latters’ lack of support.

There was a fire in the JUSPAO (Joint U S Public Affairs Office) Building yesterday AM; the JUSPAO Office is adjacent to and actually a part of the Rex BOQ. Apparently the fire was caused by faulty wiring, not VC. It was a stubborn, smokey sort of fire (no flames), and it took a lot of doing to put it out. Damage from the fire was light, but damage by the fire-fighters was heavy.

Having spent a good deal of time getting the new CB160 Honda I picked up (used) running its best, I took a sort of shakedown ride tonight, taking a long circle trip around the city. The bike performed very well (it will be far better for my trip to Cambodia) (than the 50cc bike I had before), but of course I got into a drenching downpour just before I got back here! Soaked to the skin—but no matter, everything is dry again now!

My status with PA&E has changed—slightly. Since my job was eliminated from the FY 1969 manning table, Dan Smythe “surplused” me. He could have initiated a transfer to some other open job at LB, but since we haven’t really gotten along well the past 6 months, he decided to let CMO do it—hoping I suppose that I’ll wind up in some other installation. Saturday afternoon I went to CM0 to see what the prospects were, but got a long runaround and really didn’t learn anything. Guess I’ll just have to wait and see what action they decide to take, and if I don’t like it, I may resign. CMO, on the other hand, could decide that I am truly surplus, and terminate me (which I would prefer). However, there is a possibility that I could go into Entomology, and of course I could wind up just about anywhere in the country. One thing that mitigates against a successful transfer though is my equivalent GS13 rating: there’s a scarcity of “13 slots” in the manning table, because the Army tried their best to downgrade everyone this year. All this could take weeks—meanwhile I shall be trotting off to LB every day, there to sit and do nothing, until CM0 takes SOME sort of action. Incredible! But true.

That really is all the news there is: I hate to send one-page letters but there is no reason whatever to start another. So, love to all  hope you’re all well, as I am.

Luv~
Bruce

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Anticipating the need for sending letters by international mail (rather than via APO), I tested the “system” by sending some letters written on stationery I swiped from the Caravelle Hotel:

Caravelle Hotel Stationary

The part that’s hard to read is: “Shades of Wallace Wimple”, which refers to the salutation, “Hello, Folks”, which was WW’s jowly greeting to Fibber McGee and Molly: I’ve never forgotten it!

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Monday Noon, 6 August 1968

Dear Everyone~

Well, the die seems cast now. My final processing out awaits only the affirmative decision of the “front office”—this may take a day or two, and the final processing is likely to take several more days. All going well, I should be on my way to Phnom Penh around the 15th of this month.

I mentioned that Mr. Smythe at LB had surplused me; CMO promptly lost the paperwork, and I spent a week in limbo, enjoying Saigon and getting my bike into good shape for the forthcoming trip. Then last week, new papers were made up which I hand-carried to CMO to be sure they got there. For a while there was talk of reassigning me somewhere, but I balked at this on the basis that I have already spent six months away from my profession, and another year would be damaging to my career. This morning, all set for a big battle, I went to CMO and found that Personnel had sent my papers forward with the recommendation that for the best interests of the company and myself I should be surplused forthwith.

My position was awkward, in that had they recommended otherwise I meant to resign, which puts a black mark on one’s record and means a considerable financial loss: no leave pay, no repatriation-fund refund, and the price of my fare home. But by being surplused, I get fully paid, a “completed contract”, release to work for other overseas firms, and (tee hee!) a letter of recommendation.

Consequently, I will be leaving Vietnam with $5000 in the bank (I’ve NEVER had a larger balance!) and a plane ticket in the event I should ever need it. My tangible assets will consist of some clothing and my Honda, along with an assortment of tools and spare parts that I’m taking along.

I shall fly (with Honda) to Phnom Penh. It is only about 180 miles away, and I’d given much consideration to riding there. But security conditions at the present time simply do not allow for this—too many VC along the way—and there is nothing to see anyhow, to make taking the risk worthwhile. People in times past have gotten through, but the VC buildup was not nearly so heavy. Additionally, I’m told the “hiway” (No. 1) as far as Cu Chi is in dreadful condition, making progress slow and hazardous.

My itinerary for Cambodia is not firmly fixed. I have in mind several days in Phnom Penh, then go south to Sihanoukville, which is on the coast and is famed for beaches and food. Then back to Phnom Penh by a different route, and onward north and west eventually to Siem Reap, the only major city near Angor Wat. Depending on weather and other conditions, I hope to spend ten days or so in this vicinity: there are many other ruins in the general vicinity which might bear visiting, but roads are poor so will just have to play that part by ear. Then I hope to go on to Bangkok via the only hiway available. The Cambodian visa is good for three weeks, and I expect to use all of that; no visa at all is required for Americans entering Thailand. By the time I get there, I shall probably have a sore rump and will be ready to stay put for a while!

I have arranged to sell my typewriter and radio to a friend before I go. This means that for the most part we shall once again have to rely on the Xerox machine. I will be traveling light for obvious reasons and hope to be able to ship ahead only my single large bag as unaccompanied baggage to Bangkok, where it will be held at the airport until my arrival. This is risky, but there will be only clothes in the bag, so if it “gets lost” I won’t be out a great deal. (There are three suits in that bag that have remained unpacked since January!) Shipping the radio and typewriter would be expensive and foolish, though, and I can get both cheaply in Bangkok, or wherever I settle down.

I might mention that in the back of my mind is the possibility that I sha’nt find work in Thailand, and may decide to go to Djakarta—I could even ride that distance on the Honda, though there is a train route that sure looks fascinating. There is a lot going on in Malaysia in oil exploration/development, and there ought to be a demand for chemists there.

Naturally, if I don’t find a job anywhere and the money runs out, then I’ll come on home and see what I can dredge up through Overseas Craftsmen’s Association, which I have joined—its a sort of personnel clearing-house, working both with large companies which hire overseas and with personnel who want to go overseas to get jobs for the latter and employees for the former. Good outfit—they do not have anything to do with PA&E!

That about brings you up to date—I should be able to get one more letters off before I go (hope the VC hold off on their next offensive for another week or so!). Also hope to get some packages of trinkets for everybody on their way sometime this week—though just what these will be I can’t be sure right now. Native VN crafts are not awfully lovely, to my way of thinking, and so much of it is actually made in HK or Japan that one has to be most careful!

I am in no way sad about leaving PA&E—and am not really sad about leaving VN either. I feel that unless we change our approach and policies RADICALLY and soon, our “involvement” is doomed to an ignominious failure. I still feel the only candidate on the scene who just MIGHT be able to bring about some of these changes is McCarthy, but just where his star sits at the moment is pretty hard to guess. Meanwhile, there is nothing for me to do but turn my back on this “bleak plain, where … ignorant armies clash by night”.

Luv to all~
Bruce

I outfitted the cycle with saddle-bags and a satchel I could easily strap to the luggage rack. I also fitted a left-hand throttle arrangement, expecting to need to relax my right (throttle) hand now and then. This device was a god-send, and a wonderful source of introductions to other cyclists who had never seen or thought of such a useful feature.

I tried to interest some other ex-pat cyclists I knew in going on the trip with me. They all said, “Oh, you’ll be robbed! You’ll be killed! It’s an idiotic thing to do!” I sent them all post-cards from Singapore nine weeks later. In retrospect, though, I’m glad I went alone: there were no arguments about where to go next, or when!

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Sunday, 11 August 1968

Dear Everyone~

I forget who it was who said something about the best laid plans of mice and men. . . but in my case they have gone awry—at least for the moment.

My “die seems cast” letter was written Monday evening after I’d been told by “Out-Processing” that Personnel had sent a recommendation to the front office that I be surplused. They said to come back Tuesday afternoon to get the ball rolling.

But I underestimated the ability and willingness of the front office to make an already bad situation worse, and on Tuesday I was told that the front office had denied the surplus, allegedly on the grounds that the approximately $2500 involved might be disallowed (for reimbursement by the [US] govt), and that I would have to take another assignment. There followed three days of the most amazing “Micky Mouse” routine while Personnel tried to find an open slot that I could fill. For awhile it looked as though I might wind up as a Sanitation Supervisor, which with some stretching of the imagination is at least close to my field. But that failed because it would have meant a $35.00 cut in my salary: since the company is hanging me on the fine print in my contract (which allows them to assign me out of my classification), I hung them on some of the same fine print that bars them from reducing my salary under any circumstances. Hence, it became necessary to find a slot that carried the appropriate salary, and that turned out to be—of all things—a SUPPLY ADMINISTRATOR. This turns out to be nothing more than a dressed-up file clerk. When the Head of the Department asked me what I knew about Supply, I replied truthfully, “absolutely nothing”—to which he replied, “well, that never stopped PA&E from placing a person before.” His only other question to qualify me for the job was whether I could read and write English! Having set the standards THAT low, there was no basis on which I could refuse the position (giving the company thereby the right to fire me for cause). Although I had planned to resign at one time, I could not quite see why I should be forced to take the onus of that (and black mark on my record) just because I’d gotten caught in the cross-fire between CMO and Dan Smythe; and the more they shunted me around the less inclined I became to resign. So—for the moment—I am still on board, stuck in a freezing cold air-conditioned office all day at CMO, working 6 8-hr days/wk.

The matter is by no means concluded. A friend of mine in Contract Administration is close to the man who allegedly refused to approve the surplus, and the former has suggested a way by which it can be done and be fully allowed; he says he will talk to Mr. [redacted] and see if he can swing him around. If not, I may eventually resign under protest and hand the matter over to the NLRB and others to adjudicate. The most absurd part of it all is that not only is there a good case for the Army to disallow what I’ve already earned here—since it got absolutely no good whatever from my being here—; there is also an even better chance that my salary from this point forward also might be disallowed because I am working so FAR out of classification (on which the Army and the president of PA&E both frown)—a fact that seems to have escaped the attention  of Personnel entirely.

Then, too, there is the matter of these new “work agreements” coming up, and no one really knows what’s going to happen in that regard. PA&E has several thousand employees under contract identical to mine, yet, in negotiating the 1969FY R&U contract with the govt, they agreed to a number of limitations on their employees that are in conflict with the existing agreements. Thus, while my contract says I earn 3 days per month of annual leave, which can be accrued, and which can either be taken or worked at my option, the company has already promulgated a new regulation by which we are getting only 2 days per month, with the stipulation that a portion of it must be actually taken. Those who sign the new work agreements (which will be retroactive to the date they signed their current ones) will in effect be signing away a number of benefits, thus in effect voluntarily reducing their income.

One of the knottiest problems involved in the new work agreement hinges on the subject of Vietnamese income or other taxes. Our current contracts obligate the Company to pay any of these that might be levied (and of course the company recovers the funds from the [US] govt.). The new work agreements say nothing at all on the subject. Now, it is true that there are NO such taxes—at the present time, but the [VN] government could decide tomorrow that a tax such as the VN pay (about 37%) on the AMERICANS would be another marvelous way to wangle a whole lot of money out of the US—and without the protection of our own contracts, we would be obligated to pay this out of our own pockets, or quit. Needless to say, most people would do the latter!

So, it appears unlikely that many people (certainly not me) are going to go along with this new agreement deal. What the company is holding over our heads is that if we DON’T sign, they won’t offer us another contract when our current ones expire. Well, since most people are fed up with this outfit, they don’t intend to stay past their current tour anyhow, so no matter. There are already suits being filed about this thing, and many more can be expected: I hope it doesn’t come to my having to do the same. But some of the shenanigans that get pulled here are simply not to be believed—and a company operated like this one at home would fold up overnight!

You may have read about a couple of terrorist acts in Saigon a day or two ago—one of them a grenade tossed into a Cafe on Dr. Yersin Street. This is just past the circle at the end of Le Loi, not far from me. Such is the way of things here, though, that I knew nothing about it till I read the papers!

Luv to all~
Bruce

The upshot of this re-assignment was that I went each day to a frigid office in a Quonset-hut at Tan Son Nhut. The office contained three desks, one of them mine, another occupied by a fellow whose job I could never determine, and one for a lovely Vietnamese Secretary. There was a telephone on my desk: I was supposed to answer it, but it never rang. Once each month a stack of papers arrived mysteriously: my job was to arrange them in a certain order and hand them to the gent at the other desk. I have no idea what he did with them!

Speaking of the Caravelle Hotel, I found this article from the LA Times:

Caravelle Hotel

“In early May, Saigon’s historic Caravelle Hotel launches celebrations of its 50th anniversary with an appearance by Pulitzer Prize-winning foreign correspondent Peter Arnett. Though best known as a CNN reporter in Baghdad during the Persian Gulf War, Arnett covered the Vietnam conflict before that, filing some 3,000 dispatches from the Caravelle from 1962 to 1975 for the Associated Press.

He was not alone. During and after the war, the Caravelle was ground zero for the foreign press corps, including David Halberstam, Walter Cronkite and Morley Safer. VIPs like Richard Nixon, Bob Hope and Pierre Cardin also stayed there and drank in its fabled rooftop Saigon Saigon Bar, as did the cast and crew of the 2002 film “The Quiet American,” starring Michael Caine.

The hotel opened in 1959. After the fall of Saigon in 1975 it was renamed the Doc Lap (or Independence) Hotel. In 1998 a 24-story tower was added, bringing modern conveniences like a landscaped pool and fitness center to the historic site.”

That’s the National Assembly Building well-lit in the foreground: when I last saw it there was rocket damage! It is difficult to see whether any part of the original Caravelle was saved.

National Assembly Building, Saigon 1968

My situation with PA&E was tenuous at best. The saga continues on the next page.

Once I was able to get a typewriter, my letters from Vietnam were sent to the family using carbon-copies, so everyone would be up to date. I tried not to send all-carbons to any one address, so different members would have to wade through the 4th carbon fuzziness from time to time. This means that the surviving letters (which Dad kept) are a mix of different “layers”. OCR software works on the originals well; on the second carbons less well, on the third carbons poorly, and on the 4th carbons not at all!

The first letter in this group survived as a fourth carbon, so it had to be keyed in. Due to some annoying problems with my computer, I ended up losing some files, and wound up keying in this letter no less than four times!

Oh, well: being retired, I have the time to deal with these annoyances. So, on with it!

BB

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Sunday, 23 June 1968

Dear Everyone~

It has been a week and a half since I wrote last, but so little has happened that there was no reason to waste paper! Life continues pretty much as it has right along. The curfews are back to 2100 to 0600 in most areas of Saigon, which allows somewhat more movement. But the VC continue to shell the city from time to time. Presumably, Cho Lon and Gia Dinh are now cleaned out, partly because of the big defection of around a hundred and a half of VC who were surrounded there. You all know as much as I do about the Paris “peace” talks, and for that matter, as much as I do about the election campaign at home. I may be the only “hawk” that votes for McCarthy in November (assuming he’s nominated!)—but nothing any of the other candidates has said impresses me at all. The June Playboy interview with Galbraith I find very enlightening: with men like him in the background of politics, it’s hard to see how we’ve managed to get into this mess.

There is nothing new at the job. I was informed last Saturday by the great white papa-san (Dan Smythe) that I am not in the FY1969 manning table: this really doesn’t mean a great deal, except that there is a good likelihood I might be declared surplus (which would be MOST astute of the personnel dept). Rumors continue that Dan is going for at least a leave July 1: HE says he will be back—CMO says he won’t. We’ll see, but I’d bet on Dan anytime against CMO, which is about as totally disorganized an organization as you could ever hope (or have the misfortune) to find.

I spent the better part of today fussing with my Honda—it had begun rather abruptly to run quite badly. It seemed to be a carburetor problem, so I cleaned that thoroughly: no improvement. Then I go indications the battery was weak, so I replaced that: no improvement. Went back to the carburetor, and suddenly found that an extra spring had been added to the throttle arrangement—for reasons unknown—that interfered with proper operation: threw out the spring, and voila! Runs like a Honda ought. Friend and I tried to visit the Botanical Gardens/Zoo in the afternoon, but couldn’t get near the place. It is closed, and under heavy guard, as it offers a nice infiltration route (from across the Saigon River, which it borders). Xin Loi—another time, perhaps!

Some hip-nik burned his draft card in the park in front of the Assembly Bldg a couple of days ago. He was speedily arrested by a heavily armed Sgn Police detail. He was shortly thereafter released. The news papers report that the american Vice Consul had determined that his residence visa was about to expire, and “would not be renewed”.

There is nothing the Vietnamese fear more than a withdrawal of US forces: in the long run, there is probably nothing that would do them more good, however, since it would then be up to them to preserve the country—if enough of them decide it is worth it. The Thieu government is all too ready to “let George (the US) do it”—until we do something they don’t like. Our exclusion of the Sgn government in Paris is seen as a heavy-handed slap in the face, and recent talks about recognizing the NLF is almost more than Thieu can bear. If we keep it up, he may ask us to LEAVE!!!

That does it for the week: Love to all, of course~

Bruce

The situation in Iraq is redolent with the flavor of that last paragraph, written from Vietnam 40 years ago!

Temple at the Saigon Zoo

I did eventually get into the Saigon Zoo. This temple was part of it, but closed.

Monkey at the Saigon Zoo, 1968

This might have been a VC monkey! We’ll never know!

Sunday, 7 July 68

Dear Everyone~

Two uneventful weeks have passed since I last wrote. There have been no further rocket attacks on Saigon since 11 June: thank goodness those who suggested this represents a “de-escalation” by the North have been silenced. It is no such thing! It represents intensive efforts by all concerned to sweep the 6-8 mile perimeter of Saigon to destroy all rocket launching sites and caches of rockets. Am impressive number of them were turned up—over thirty in one cache alone, found July 3, all with fuses inserted. It was assumed these were to have been fired as a fourth of July “celebration”. . .

The government asserts that all persons made homeless during the Tet Offensive now have been re-located. So have many—but not all—of the May 5 campaign’s victims.

Dan Smythe ACTUALLY left the country on July 3—but he will be back in two weeks. I spent a Saturday a week ago at CMO trying to locate the bottleneck in the lab program—and uncovered so many that there is really no reason to hope for anything. The entire company seems almost paralyzed right now—everyone is in fear that he might get surplused, and so much time is spent pulling strings and doing all sorts of finagling to avoid getting dumped that no other work gets done at all.

For reasons beyond comprehension, the Qui Nhon Area portion of PA&E’s contract with the [US] government was split off this year and made an entirely separate affair. Because it was put out for bid, the company bid very “tight” in order to keep the contract: but this meant reducing salaries, which they did (illegally)—and promptly lost nearly one third of their people. As usual, the people with any brains at all “pulled the pin” (i.e., quit), while the dead-beats who didn’t realize what was happening stayed on. . .

Now, PA&E’s R&U contract in the remaining areas of VN is a “negotiated” contract: these are the best kind, because they’re not put out for bid, but are simply renewed (with some changes) from year to year as long as performance meets some sort of (usually low) standards. So the contract under which I was hired apparently has been renewed, but the changes are mainly in the manning table (from which my job has been deleted). It still remains to be seen what effect this will have, as the CMO is still snowed under with processing out the QN people. It may well be another month or two before I learn anything. Rumors are legion, of course, but most of them aren’t to be believed. To help keep busy I’ve been helping Personnel out with some of the mounds of paperwork that changing contracts entails. Technically, everyone is terminated and re-hired, which requires the preparation of a supporting document. We have somewhere between 1400 and 1500 Vietnamese employees at LB—and that’s about as close a count as one can ever get from the paper, because there’s a constant turnover.

There’s really not enuf more news to justify another sheet of paper—and it’s late, so I’ll close this and prepare for beddy-byes—and for another dull day. Cheers to all, wherever you are.

Luv~
Bruce

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Sunday PM, 14 July 1968

Dear all~

A nice cool rain has just stopped falling outside as I begin this letter. This has been (I’m told) a very dry year—usually by this time we should be having rain nearly all day and night. But thus far it has been only one or two short storms each day, and the real drenchers are yet to come, I guess.

The situation in Saigon is tense. There seems to be a good deal of intelligence to support the theory that another attack on Saigon is imminent. There was a short bit of gunplay near here last night, but it turned out to be a group of inebriated Philipino soldiers settling an argument, and had nothing to do with the VC. Similarly, a large fire last night in a powerplant apparently was unrelated to the war. Several days ago, however, an american was killed by “sappers” in Cho Lon, so it is confirmed that there are still terrorists in the city: how many or how well armed is anybody’s guess.

There have been a couple of worthwhile articles in recent magazines that (if you haven’t read them) I recommend. In order of appearance, the Galbraith interview in June Playboy was, I thought, excellent: I marvel that with people of his erudition lurking in the background of politics, we nonetheless manage to get into messes like this one here. Then there is the article (I believe it was in Sat Eve Pest, maybe Look) by Wm. Lederer—the title was something like “The other war in Vietnam”, but I’ve forgotten it exactly. And then there appeared the Fullbright interview—no, article—in the July Playboy. There is a lot of meat in what he says—and the hopeful sign to me is that he is saying it!

The Lederer article is unnerving. Every bit of it—and a whole lot more  is true. Without trying, even someone as ingenuous as I has managed to stumble across many examples of the “smaller potatoes” sort of hanky-panky that goes on over here. But the un-real part of it is that, as Lederer points out several times, the official reason given for condoning corruption here is that “we are guests here, and do not want to ‘offend’ the Vietnamese”. Now, as a policy I think this is admirable enough—if it were actually applied. But instead, it has resulted in our not “offending” only the crooks and profiteers, who constitute a tiny segment of the population, while DEEPLY offending the larger part of the populace who, in the end, suffer inflation and other ills as a direct result of it all. Our policy has resulted in protection for an undesirable element in VN that we OUGHT to be trying to eradicate. Of course, who are we to cast any stones at VN racketeers when most of the training has come from us?

Even worse, the policy of not offending the VNese, fails almost totally to filter down to the rank-and-file population—the average “Nguyens on the street”—who every day are victim to some of the most outrageous behaviour. Unfortunately, our deeply rooted racism, under so strong attacks at home, has been transported here intact. The results are frequently appalling. I suppose it is an impossible task to screen military and civilians over here to determine their suitability to being temporarily transported into an alien culture: there is also almost no attempt to assess the behavior of those who are here, and return those who don’t measure up to some sort of standard. There aren’t any standards, either—unless one considers the largely ignored UCMJ.

Item: a couple of weeks ago, as we were proceeding to Long Binh in our leased Vietnamese bus, some idiot american riding in the back of a jeep tried to force his way past our bus by, first, shouting obscenities at the occupants, and then brandishing his .38 at our driver, who (understandably) nearly dumped us all in the ditch when he ducked. This slob hadn’t reckoned on americans being on that bus, and I expect he was surprised later that day when the MPs picked him up (traced by his vehicle number) with no less than four signed “reports” on the incident. The only logical place for this sort is the front lines: but unless they send him home (which is doubtful)—and heaven knows another trigger-happy nut is just what is needed there—he’ll probably get a reprimand and maybe a pay cut.

Item: last week, one of our VN employees was returning to Saigon after work, riding his motorbike, when he was flipped off into the ditch by a GI driving a 2½T truck. Unlike most GI’s who do this, this one obligingly stopped his machine—and went back to the injured man, whom he threatened shoot, and then left the helpless man as he was and drove away. MPs subsequently got the poor fellow to a hospital (it will cost a small fortune of the US tax dollars to patch him up), but could not get the GI, as the man had not been able to see the vehicle number.

The above are strong examples, repeated daily. Then number of lesser inconsiderateness—simple impoliteness, rudeness, etc., etc.,—couldn’t be calculated, but one has to be blind to fail to see dozens of examples every day.

Rocky has just announced his “four points for peace”—but has not made clear how he intends to secure the cooperation of the NVN and VC in the enterprise. At this juncture, I am much inclined to feel that unless we are willing to make fundamental changes in our modus operandi here, a pullout would really be better: either way (that is, if we do leave, or if we stay under the present circumstances) the local population is going to suffer great hardship. The parallels between French imperialism and american imperialism are so clear that multitudes of people might welcome communism—if only in the feeble hope that it might be different.

Confucius is reputed to have made up the saying that a picture is worth a thousand words: many more than that could well caption the “joke” in July Playboy showing the baby crawling in front of the TV set.

It is curious that the last rocket attack on Saigon coincided exactly with Westmoreland’s departure. His parting words were that there was very little that could be done to stop it. Yet, under Abrahms it has been stopped (perhaps not permanently, though this remains to be seen). An intensive and expensive sweep of the 6-8 mile perimeter around Sgn has netted a prodigious quantity (in excess of 1700) rockets, mortars and similar weapons. Westy’s exit flourish (the rocketing is not militarily significant) was incredulously received here, because it was obvious to the Vietnamese (but apparently not to Westy) that the rocketing was not really a military operation anyhow; rather, it was intended to be a psychologically disruptive maneuver. As such, it was remarkably unsuccessful; there was little panic, no sudden capitulation, no collapse of government. Perhaps the VC gave up the rocketing because it was too expensive in light of the lack of results, along with the pressure imposed by capture of many of their weapons. At any rate, it appears that getting Westy out of the picture was a wise move, as he seemed to have become blinded to some pretty obvious facts.

My trip to and through Cambodia has not been entirely abandoned. I find there is no trouble at all in getting the necessary tourist visa, good for three weeks. A simple form (only ONE copy!), a photo, and a valid passport will get one in less than 24 hours. I am only waiting to see if PA&E won’t make it possible to make it a one-way trip. Intelligence seems to indicate that they will before long. It’s a waiting game, and I may not be able to wait it out, but only time will tell, I guess.

That wraps up the latest report from Vietnam.

Cheers to all~

Bruce

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I’m not getting much feed-back from this blog: perhaps readers are as bored with it as I was with my “job” in Vietnam! Comments are welcome at [email protected]

August 29, 2009

As the last scion of the Kennedy family is being laid to rest, it seems appropriate that I have reached the point in my narrative where the news of Bobby Kennedy’s assassination reached us in Vietnam.

Sunday, 9 June 1968

Dear Family~

Needless to say, the news here much of this week has been largely concerned with the sad events in Los Angeles, et. seq., and has tended to overshadow the local news. The local news is getting stale anyhow, as the VC continue to shell Saigon night after night. Nothing has come in as close to me as the two on the 19th of May.

Early in the week, the news centered on the unfortunate accident in Cho Lon, where a US Helicopter-fired rocket misfired and killed six high officers of the national police, and wounded several others, including the (now former) Mayor of Saigon. The first reports were that this was a VC shell that had hit; investigation indicated shortly however that this was not so, and close examination of the shell fragments, and investigation of the pilots involved, eventually revealed beyond doubt that it was one of our own “strays”. It was not a unique sort of accident, of course, but the reaction has been pretty unfavorable.

Word of the Los Angeles debacle reached us at Long Binh late in the afternoon Wednesday, First reports were hopelessly confused, but by evening it was clear to me that a miracle would be required for Bobby to survive. I stayed at home (with a cold) on Thursday. I awoke late in the afternoon as a BBC broadcast was coming to a close, and the announcer stated that the foregoing program had been prepared before the unfortunate death of Senator Kennedy: this was my first confirmation of what I knew was to be. I tuned to VOA, which was playing dirges, so I had to wait until the local 5 PM news to get the details.

All of the applicable descriptive adjectives have long since been used to describe this latest turn of events. Over here, where violence is daily bread, the impact has not been nearly so great as I’m sure it was at home. The Vietnamese have been very cool towards Kennedy anyway, so other than the official condolences, not much beyond the facts have been forthcoming in the papers. Thursday morning the funeral cortege for the VN officers mentioned earlier passed my balcony, and I felt very sure then that before the day was over I would hear of the necessity for a similar event in Washington.

Now, of course, it is all over but the shouting. That is, this particular episode is over—but I predict there will be much more violence along the same lines before the next election at home. All the weeping and wailing  and gnashing of teeth about the “upsurge of violence” in the US seems to me to miss the point completely. There in nothing new about it. American history, from the war for independence onward is not noticeably less violent than the history of other countries. What bothers me is the fact that murder, homicide and so forth is often tacitly, if not openly condoned in some circumstances, while acts that are substantively the same are condemned in other circumstances. Where was the great hue and cry when shooting or lynching Negroes was even more commonplace than it is today? Where was the period of “official mourning” for the twelve children killed in the bombing of a Birmingham church? The cortege and pompous burial for Medger Evers?

I certainly agree with President Johnson and the many others that seem to have concluded that there is something wrong with america today—something that finds its expression in assassinations, riots, and so forth. But I think I’d disagree with many about the causes of the wrongness. The American Ethic has too long denied the essential humanness of all people, and the people within its borders particularly. Organized religion has for centuries been promulgating a body of doctrine that simply fails to take into account the fact that humans are, first and foremost, humans. much of this doctrine found its way into our federal structure (the colonisation of america was initiated, after all, by a persecuted religious sect which proceeded to become as adept at persecution as those who drove then from England): the constitution is shot through with examples of pseudo-religious beliefs translated into a formula for government. And through the years, a vast body of legend has been built into american history that grants to the american people something very close to actual divinity. So powerfully imbued have we become with our feelings of God-given superiority that we have even undertaken to export the commodity.

Future historians may well record the 1960s as a decade in which america finally realized that the credibility gap between its facade of liberty and equality and justice and pacifism and the edifice of actuality became so wide that the entire structure collapsed. Examples of our duplicity in the world today are myriad, and all the world is beginning to take notice. Lately, even large segments of our own population have been taking notice too. Everywhere our “Do as we say, not as we do” approach is being rejected—quite appropriately, I think. Our future as a nation, or as a world power, hangs now in a delicate balance, and it remains to be seen whether we will really pull in our horns, gird ourselves, admit our mistakes, and set about to bring into reality the “american dream”—which is still no more than a dream—or whether we will close our eyes once again to the oppression, inequality, injustice and belligerence that have brought us to our current sorry state.

There is no change in the work status, and none is looked for. PA&E may try to pull some hanky-panky again this year about our employee contracts, which will give me precisely the “out” I need: but if they don’t do this, I shall certainly resign before too long, unless the situation changes radically with the award of the new parent contract with the Army July 1.

I’ve been investigating the proposed trip through Cambodia. The Vice Consul here points out the necessity of being very careful on such a trip, since we are not diplomatically represented there, but explains that there is nothing she can do to prevent the trip. Tourist Visas to Cambodia are issued through the Australian Embassy here, and I haven’t had the chance to see them yet. Ordinarily, Thailand requires no visa, but it may be that one would be required for persons entering Thailand from Caniodia, so I shall have to contact the Thai Embassy as well. The plan is still very hazy and no dates are set. Having my Cambodian friend along as a guide should prevent any major mistakes that might conceivably involve me with authorities. Air Vietnam has regular flights to Phnom Penh.

As I start this third page, I realise there isn’t much to add to what I’ve put into the previous two.

The weather is getting consistently wetter, with storms just about every day. Rob can now testify to the wetness of our rains, and to the lightning accompanying! I mentioned earlier that I finally succombed to a Vietnamese cold, and find it remarkably similar to the US variety (though this may be an imported cold for all I know!) It is about over now.

Mail was delayed this week, and I didn’t go to LB Saturday—went to CM0 instead—so I suspect letters will be waiting for me Monday AM. My last letter from Dad was 5/26, containing the copy for Rob (he got it OK).

That’s about 30 for this week: as usual, I hope this letter finds you all well.

Love,

Bruce

It was slowly dawning on me that I was involved in a boondoggle, and the likelihood was great I would not complete my contract. I began to formulate a plan to ride my motorcycle from Saigon to Phnom Penh: the main reason for doing so was to get to and see the Temple complex at Angkor. I had seen all the pictures in old issues of the National Geographic, and had seen the pictures my brother Todd had brought back when he visited the temples in 1958. I wanted to see this for myself, and in Saigon was only a few hundred kilometers away from them.

I was also becoming critical of our lack of progress in the war itself. Within a few weeks of my arrival, I came to the conclusion we should never have gotten mixed up in this business at all: but it seemed to me that now that we were there, we should identify our objectives and then get on with the job. With the VC close enough to shell Saigon daily, I felt we were not actually getting anywhere: we should either “shit, or get off the pot!”

IF this sounds familiar, think “Iraq” or “Afghanistan”!

Wednesday, 12 June 1968

Dear Everyone~

I don’t generally write during the week, but I suppose you’ve all been hearing the reports of the VC shelling of downtown Saigon, and may be worried about me.

The curfew hours were changed Sunday to 2100 to 0600 in precincts 1, 2, and 3: I am in 2. Consequently, somewhat more people were about at 6:15 Monday morning than normally. I was not among them, however, since our bus schedule had not yet been changed, and I was more or less asleep (the alarm had rung at 6) when the first rocket hit. It was the one that landed in front of City Hall, and the nearest [to me] of all: none of the rockets in this barrage actually came as close as the two mortars that hit on May 19. But the 122 mm rockets are a bit bigger, and do much more damage…

I got up and went out on the balcony, where at first I could not identify the peculiar whistling sound I heard. It wasn’t long before I realized it was rockets overhead, so I went back inside! All 25 of them arrived in a space of about ten minutes. As one does these days here, I calmly set about shaving and within a half hour after it was over was in the Rex having breakfast.

The rocket that landed near the Rex set two cars afire, demolishing both, ignited gas pumps in front of a garage, and blew out windows for a large area around. The one that landed against the Indian Consulate on Tu Do did a lot more damage, and killed two old women asleep in the adjacent doorway. Two others landed nearby that one, but hit nothing of consequence.

Five rockets landed across Cong Ly Street from the SE corner of the palace grounds, doing heavy damage to three large residences. One of these had every tile of the entire roof blown clear off, leaving all the wood and concrete structural members intact—a curious thing. About 6 landed near the intersection of Gia Long and Le Van Duyet, and it was there that a large number of people were killed and injured.

For some reason our bus didn’t come that morning, so I walked around in the afternoon to see the destruction brought on by this attack. Not very pleasant, though one should always bear in mind that vast areas of North Vietnam must look far worse by now.

The reaction here is almost universally one of puzzlement as to why we don’t retaliate by breaking off the Paris talks and/or bombing Hanoi. It’s a good question, for which I have no better answer than anyone else. There’s been a good deal of wry commenting on Westy’s parting remark about the shellings being “militarily insignificant”, a remark that to my way of thinking indicates the distance that separates the military mind from a reasonable mind.

The very day that [Robert]  Kennedy was shot, I had spent the morning composing a letter to Senator McCarthy, indicating why I was supporting his candidacy and suggesting some areas that seem to me to need attention in the years ahead. I have never sent the letter (I planned to polish it up a bit first), but now I think I shall have to re-write it altogether.

Dad’s remark in his last letter to the effect that I seem to be getting a bit more hawkish is true enough—though I hadn’t realized it showed that much. I realized myself how my thinking had changed when I completed the aforementioned letter to Senator McCarthy, and found I had advocated bringing the war to a rapid conclusion through massive strikes at all strategic targets in the North that we have so assiduously protected so far. I see only two alternatives to this, however: 1) the whole sad affair will drag on and on and on and on, no one really winning or losing anything, as is essentially the case so far, except billions of dollars and thousands of people… or 2) the pull-out. Now, the pull-out of itself is not such a bad idea, though the alterations in world-wide alignments that would result might be quite startling; but a pull-out here would almost certainly see a repeat performance of the whole mess on some other soil.

If one accepts the inevitability of a direct confrontation with either Russia or China, it seems to me prudent to get it over with before either has a chance to build up further towards it. The question is, if we were to attempt to bring Hanoi to its knees (and I don’t really doubt we could do it smartly and quickly if we put our mind to it), would either China or Russia interfere at this time? I think that a close study of History would reveal that neither country in this case would risk a world-wide conflict—at this time—in support of what is essentially an insignificant country like NVN. Ho Chi Minh has been walking a tight-rope between Peking and Moscow for some time, and not entirely pleasing either one. Taking into account growing animosity between Mao and Kosygan at the present time, I don’t believe either would rally to Hanoi’s side strongly—at this time. I keep saying at this time because I think timing is important here. Whichever power succeeds in making the largest propaganda victory out of continuing to hold the US at bay in Asia may ultimately turn out to be the winner in this part of the world: if we are really serious about containing BOTH the Chinese and the Soviet influence within present borders, then we should by all means get on with it, and sheer military superiority is (either now or later) going to be the only way we can succeed. The history of “negotiations” with the Communist countries does not indicate any degree of optimism is justified in that method of containing Communism: even a casual look at Korea or the Middle East will confirm this.

Of course, if one has serious reservations, as I do, about the necessity or desirability of keeping Asia entirely free of communism, the foregoing argument is invalidated, and a pull-out here is the only answer. One of the more-or-less rhetorical questions I put to Sen. McCarthy was, “Does our paranoid fear of communism really square with the fact that millions of people are better off today under it than they were under some previous from of government?”

Recent events in the US strongly reinforce my belief that McCarthy may be the best choice we have. I was glad to hear today that some Senator has been pointing his finger at such american traditions as war toys, horror movies, shoot-em-up TV programs and the like. He overlooked the fact that we have maintained HUGE armies throughout our period of existence, thus training virtually every man in the arts of war for nearly two centuries. The effect of this I think is important.

If I fill up this page, there won’t be anything to report this weekend, so I’ll close this now and get to bed: our bus is running earlier now, so I have to go to bed earlier, too.

Love to all~

Bruce

Forty years later, we all know what happened to Senator McCarthy!

More letters to follow. . .

For some years, my parents had been sponsoring a young boy in Vietnam through FFP (Foster Parents Plan), known only as Tai and a number. It seemed natural that I should try to get in touch with him while there.

My letters were also referring to my “Number one friend”. This was the masseur I had met in the parlor on Phan-Than-Gian Street: he stayed with me, used the motorcycle, and kept me well pounded with his massage skills. We had sex occasionally, but mostly that was taken care of by the boy I’d met first at the Loc Building who helped me move to my apartment, and who visited regularly.

Monday, 13 May 1968

Dear Everyone~

First, belated Happy Mothers Day to those to whom it applies: somehow in the week’s chaos I forgot about it—there aren’t all the advertising reminders down here (since the Holiday is unknown to the VN).

The accompanying article tells a number of tales. The bunker complex referred to was discovered about 2-1/2 miles (line of sight) from me, and it is that area which I’ve watched US planes work over several times. Last night, E-4 Jets struck it four different times (apparently the VC were trying to move back into it) with B-40 rocket-bombs. These are big ones, and at 2-1/2 mile range they sound as though they were next door, and shake the building pretty hard, yet there is little to see unless one is atop the Rex, and even then the haze usually prevents seeing much.

Yesterday, and possibly again last night, the VC managed at last to hit and cause damage to the NewPort bridge, so that this AMs news broadcast said traffic on the Xa Lo Bien Hoa was limited to essential Mil only. My bus came at its appointed time, but I was discussing a block away the liklihood of its getting through, which seemed small, so I didn’t go. I expect it will just get tied up in a monumental traffic jam and eventually return to town. I’ll try tomorrow, unless I hear otherwise, to go to work, though of course the only real reason I bother is to get mail.

Yesterday, Hung and I went out to the Cho Lon PX as planned. It was open, swamped with people, of course. There was a good deal of shooting not far away, and when some jerk cleared his rifle near the entrance, you should have seen everybody (including yours truly) dive for cover! At that moment I was waiting for Hung to come back from the Va Ep (garage) where he was getting the left-turn signal lights on the Honda fixed. When he got back, we di di mau’d!

On the way out there, we stopped to see my “family”. Their place is not bad by Saigon standards, but they sleep in a bunker every night, and are getting ready to move to what they hope will be a safer area—for which I can’t blame them, but where they will go I’m not sure. There is an uncle on the scene, related somehow to the Papasan who isn’t around, and he works for PA&E! He’s a photographer, but has not been able to get to Tan Son Nhut to work all week. He’s Phillipino, speaks good English, and is very pleasant. Apologetic, of course, about the house situation, but of course under the circumstances…

Having boo coo time, I think I’ll try later today to get in touch with Miss Green at FPP and see what I can learn of Tai. I hope, of course to be able to get good news, but there is always the possibility it will be otherwise.

On the way to Cho Lon yesterday we passed a large refugee camp put up on the site of what was to have been a large new school: I’d been by it when it was just a couple of acres of cleared land awaiting construction. Now, it is a forest of semipermanent tents (wood bottom, fabric top). I do not think it was designed by an Architecture Professor at Cambridge! It was, at least, orderly, if crowded, and the Red Cross was much in evidence, so it is quite likely that many of the occupants are better off than in the hovels they inhabited before!

I just went out and bought 4 Saigon maps to send with this—I’ll mark them with useful info to help keep you up to date. The accuracy of these is poor, and there’s no scale of distance, however. . .

Later, Monday, 4 PM

I have just returned from visiting Foster Parents Plan. This morning I took the Honda and went seeking the place, but somewhere along the way the number 160 Yen Do had got fixed in my mind, and I was not able to find that: of course I had the letter with me, but dinky-dau me, I didn’t have sense enough to look at it until I got back to the apartment, where, of course, I found the number was 105 Yen Do. This afternoon after lunch I tried telephoning, but Miss Green was out until 2 PM; hence about 2:30 I got a taxi and headed out again, this time to find that it is at the corner of Yen Do and Cong Ly, so I’ve passed it many times on the way out to CM0.

Miss Green turned out to be precisely the charming older lady that I’d expected, with a copy of “Suffer Little Children” on the bookshelf. The outfit seems to be the best organised of any I’ve found here yet: they’d received a copy of the letter from New York, and although she scolded that office for forgetting the “V number” (Tai’s ID) they had dug out his card and were actually more or less expecting me.

The faily lives in a portion of Cho Lon into which Americans are not presently allowed: she was not more specific, probably fearing I’d try to go there. They have positive news that the family did not suffer in the Tet offensive, but do not have information on the current drive.

All of the familys receiving assistance within a 60 mile radius of SGN come to the Yen Do office to pick up their moneys and visit the caseworker: someone from Tai’s family, if not Tai himself, is expected in on Wednesday 22 May, and I am to go there on that day and meet with whoever shows up: the caseworker will act as interpreter. I’ll take that day off (if indeed I am working again by that time); there isn’t time to get a letter back from you with any specific questions you want asked, so I’ll have to sort of play it by ear.

Miss Green was highly doubtful that the letter you say was written in January actually was, since she says they are generally running farther behind than that. She was also interested in my own “family” and what little I had done for them. Alas, she is not at all optimistic about the future, feeling that much more hardship and war will hit Saigon before it is over. That of course remains to be seen.

So there you have all the news I can get at this moment; I’ll write the evening of 22 May (be prepared for the possibility that no one will appear: what with curfews and limited movements in many parts of Cho Lon it is quite possible they won’t be able to keep the apointment, but much depends on what happens in the next few days), which will mean you should get some info around 29 May.

Saigon HAS been quiet all day so far: not a sound I’ve heard even in the distance, which seems a little odd considering how noisy it’s been for the last week. I spoke to some chaps at noon who said the remaining lane of the Newport bridge was successfully tested at 60 tons this morning, so traffic should begin to move some, but it will be congested. There is an alternate route to LB through the “boonies”, but military escort is required to traverse it because of the dense jungle that surrounds it and the known presence of snipers. I’ll not try it, I think!

More tomorrow:

Letters arrived from home, and one was from my brother Rob, who worked for an aircraft company and was being sent to VN for some purpose he could not divulge. He mentioned having to get a lot of inoculations, just as I had done.

Long Binh Tuesday AM, 14th May 1968

Made it through to LB OK this morning; structural damage to the New Port bridge is not great and the section that dropped into the water can be replaced without too much difficulty.

Yesterday  remained quiet, all through the night as well; same parts of the curfewed areas are being opened up slightly. It would appear that the offensive is over for the time being.

Received letters from everybody this AM. Todd’s with his latest set of notepapers which are indeed lovely and ought to sell well; Dad’s with the welcome pictures of the family taken at Easter; and Rob’s letter telling among other things about his proposed trip to VietNam.

Todd’s letter included photocopies of the downtown area of SGN from the Nat’l Geographic article. I still haven’t gotten hold of a copy of that issue—it would have been faster if someone had bought one and mailed it over! The particular photo he sent does not show any part of where I have lived, and my present location is just off the picture at bottom right, as is the Rex BOQ. The area that I lived in before moving is in about the opposite direction from the view in the picture, as you all may be able to figure out from the enclosed maps.

Rob: How to contact me if you reach Saigon is a problem. I have seen a number of [Company] people around the Rex, and I’ll contact them and find out where the office is. I can put you up OK, though not in the most luxurious surroundings: if you’re on an expense account, the Caravelle is only a block away, but expensive. Numerous other less dear hotels in the area, though. You will, if you come into Saigon, arrive at Tan Son Nhut AB, and transportation into downtown is not difficult to arrange—if you go by taxi it costs 100 piasters (less than $1.00), and your destination would either be the [Company] office or my place. If the latter, tell the driver “Rex” or Nguyen-Hue / Le-Loi (Nyoon Way / Lay Loy) and he will drop you at the circle. The map below will direct you to my place. If I know the exact day you arrive, I’ll have Number 1 friend on hand to let you in, otherwise I might be at work unless you come Saturday afternoon or Sunday. On the other hand, if you let me know exact day, I can take a day off to be on hand, perhaps even meet you at TSN. I can be reached—with patience and luck—by telephone on any Military class A telephone, the number Long Binh 2268, but don’t rely on it! Cam Ranh Bay, is of course, a number of miles North, and with sufficient notice I might get travel orders to enable me to accompany you there for a few days, but it would take time. As for HK or elsewhere, I really don’t know, but I’II see what I can find out. Anyhow, sure would be swell if we can get together however briefly while you’re in country. As for the sore arm, well, toi rat tiek: now you know what I went through!

Will close this now and get it off to you all.

Love, as always~
Bruce

___________________

SAT 18 MAY 1968

Dear everyone~

Since I last wrote, and I can’t remember exactly when that was, things have quieted down quite a bit. Midweek there were some more rockets landing in Cho Lon at night, but otherwise little action around Saigon. Curfews are being relaxed somewhat, although it looks as though the 2100 to 0700 one will be with us for some time.

Emergency repairs are started already for the New Port Bridge. The major effect of that damage has only been to slow traffic to a crawl: most of the week it has taken nearly two hours to go out in the AM, but somewhat less coming back at night: but today, coming in at one PM, it took more than two hours!

Dad’s letter of 12 May, packed with clippings, arrived this week. Among other things, he mentions being puzzled still by the fact that the French Beaucoup comes out in Vietnamese as “Boo Coo”. Well, now, it doesn’t AWAYS sound like that—sometimes one hears it nearer to the French pronunciation. But transliterations usually get somewhat garbled in the process anyhow.

The Vietnamese alphabet is composed of 12 Vowels, 17 Consonants, and 9 Double Consonants; there are about 30-odd diphthongs, however, each having (to a Vietnamese!) distinct sounds: as if this were not enough to master, there are 5 diacritical marks which further alter the pitch (for the most part) of a spoken sound! Through this latter expedient, a single word can—and usually does—have an assortment of meanings depending on the accents. A simple word like Ba, for instance, has at least five distinctly different meanings (among others, it means three, old woman, and father)—not to mention contextual shades of meaning that also may appear!

We understand that on the eve of Senator Ribicoff’s investigation (recommended) of USAID, PA&E and RMK-BRJ, PA&E has been sold to some outfit I’ve never heard of called Gulf & Western Industries: they’re listed on NY Stock exchange at 50 or so, but I suspect that when the word gets out they bought PA&E it will drop to ten or so! They’ve bought themselves a peck of troubles, if it is true. What effect this will have on the employees, or on myself in particular, is hard to guess at this point, probably little: but it is increasingly clear that my tenure with the firm will never reach the anticipated 18 months, for I am completely useless to the organization—and trapped by Smythe in such a way I can’t transfer to some duty-post where I could at least do a day’s work for a day’s pay. Just where I’ll go, or when, or how remains to be seen, but one of these days. . .

In anticipation of a possible visit from Rob, I got my passport back from the Company and was surprised to find that in three month’s time they succeeded in getting my “Brown-Book” receipt, which means I am now legally in the country! A lot of people don’t ever get them, and I probably will never see the brown book itself, which is a work-permit and residence visa combined. But with what I have, I can get exit and re-entry visas with little difficulty, as long as I do it myself and don’t rely on PA&E to do it for me.

That about brings you up to date: the frequency of my letters varies inversely as the VC activity apparently, so when you don’t hear much you can assume things are status quo. I will write Wednesday nite after my meeting (if any) at Foster Parents Plan.

Love to all~
Bruce

As the letter above makes clear, I was pretty sure the lab was never going to be approved. There had been talk almost from the day I arrived at Long Binh that Dan Smythe would be transferred, but either no one could accept him, or (more likely) he was one of those who “knew where the bones were buried”, and was invulnerable to attack or transfer, no matter how much his staff hated him. I began formulating plans to escape this place, not because I did not enjoy it, but because I was a useless appendage to the US effort. With rockets landing frequently, Saigon at this time was a dangerous place to be, so if I was going to remain useless, I was going to go elsewhere!

Nevertheless, the possible visit from my brother was something to look forward to!

More letters to come!

Dad’s tiny hen-scratch indicates this was my 17th letter.

24 March 1968

Dear Everyone~

I realised last night that it has been over a week since I wrote to anyone. Time flies along here, and each day is so much like the others that it is hard to keep track of them. The week was eventful, in a way—at least there were things to talk about, and occasionally, work to do.

There was a fellow that came over in our group who was also assigned to Long Binh, as an Entomologist.  Fred XXXXX was his name. He had a good thing going there, lived in Thu Duc, somewhat nearer [to Long Binh] than Saigon, was supposedly working “7 10s” (i.e., 7 ten hour days/wk), and so forth. For a couple of weeks he would occasionally talk about wanting to go home (Louisville, KY), but we all just figured he had a touch of homesickness, and kidded him along. Tuesday last, he told me he was going to drive his truck into Sgn and stay here at the Loc Bldg to get a good hot bath and quiet night’s airconditioned sleep: since I figured this was just what he needed, I went along for the ride (the truck is much more commodious than the bus!). When I woke up the next AM, there was a note under my door, and the truck was gone. He had taken off early and gone to Tan Son Nhut, somehow bought his own ticket home, and somehow gotten his exit visa, and, well, just took off! That left me to get out to TSN and pick up the truck and drive it back to the motor pool at LB, and it fell to me to break the news to Dandy Dan Smythe—he took it suxprisingly well, all considered!

I’ve been spending a good deal of time this past week working as a refrigeration mechanic. If CMO ever learns (and you can bet they will!) that their GS13 Chemist is grubbing around a bunch of beat-up worn-out reefers, ice-machines, and air-conditioners, there’s going to be a flap! But at least it gives me something to do besides sit around with my finger in my ear in the meanwhile.

You recall I was dickering, on an insurance policy before I left. They were supposed to write and let me know whether or not I could get the Double Indemnity without a war-clause, and some other details. Instead, they issued the policy for straight 21000 dollars, no DI (no war clause, tho) and no waiver of premium. The cost was nearly $500/yr (for some reason it is very expensive to convert from group to individual policy), which I consider to be much too high. So I politely sent it back and asked for a refund on the unused portion (two months) of the premium I’d paid. So, I have only the 10000 dollar Workmen’s Comp policy through the company in case anything happens—but that ought to be enough for now.

Just today, I got two checks from the IRS, both out of Ogden. One was for some adjustment on 1965 Income Tax, and the other was the 118 dollars they had “applied to outstanding tax bills”: obviously, Ogden has caught up with the fact I don’t HAVE any outstanding bills, even if San Francisco hasn’t. There has been absolutely no word whatever from SF—not even any acknowledgement of my four (so far) letters. So, directly I finish this, I’ve got to get out some asbestos paper and get another one off to SF. I’ve already undertaken to establish a bank account out of the country (probably Nassau)—and there will probably be some paperwork involved in that that will have to come through for your signature, as it should also be a joint account. I’ll keep the one in SF as the one to which PA&E can send my checks, and just transfer money by check to whatever account I open up elsewhere. In a way I hate to have to go through all this: but if the Government feels entitled to attach bank accounts at will, I will simply have to take the necessary steps to protect myself. I am advised by a PA&E lawyer, incidently, that since the account was a joint one, and they made no attempt to distinguish what money was there was mine or yours, that a Federal Court suit could slap their wrists quite hard. I’m sure it won’t come to that. Taking the money out of the US can be a bit risky, I suppose, but then, it’s risky to leave it there, too, when it can be taken away without so much as a howdydoo. As to my—as you put it—”annoyance” over this thing, it amounts to something more than that: the fact is I’m maddernell about it. And as for catching flies with honey, what’s the point of that when you’re dealing with WASPS?

Enclosed is a recent photo  one of the guys here at the hotel was fooling around with a Polaroid the other day—and the clipping is one possible answer to the recent Newsweek editorial—an editorial with which I agree in the main, except that it stopped short of the mark. More on that later when I get around to my first encyclical!

Love to all—

Bruce

________________

I was a trifle more complicit in Fred’s departure than I let on in this letter. Fred was a nice fellow, but very much out of his element. He wound up in Nam as an entomologist because he had worked with a pest-control company at home. He was newly divorced. Although he and I had nothing whatsoever in common, I saw a lot of him because he got his supplies from stocks at LB Post: he often stopped in to my office to “shoot the breeze”. However, it rapidly became apparent he was losing his mind, and I was quite sure if he did NOT get out of the country, he was gonna go nuts. He was deathly afraid of Dandy Dan, as were many guys there, so he didn’t dare approach him with the notion he wanted to break his contract and be sent home. I facilitated his departure by assisting him to get his exit visa: how he got a plane ticket I never found out!

I actually dropped him off at Tan Son Nhut and then drove the truck to LB and covered with the little fib about Fred’s abandoning the truck. Unfortunately, the last thing he handed me as we set off that morning was some sort of revolver with six shells chambered. He knew if he was found with it on the plane he’d be in “heap big trouble”, so handed the gun off to me, thereby instantly putting my job in peril. I cleared the damn thing and stashed it in the bottom of a suitcase, figuring I’d develop a plan to be rid of it somehow. I did manage to get rid of it, and at the appropriate time I’ll reveal how.

Mention of the refrigeration work requires explanation. In a new contract proposal, PA&E wanted to take over maintenance of all such equipment on the large number of 500-man mess-halls on Long Binh Post: these were scattered all over the place, and each one had ten to fifteen pieces of refrigeration devices. It became necessary to compile a list of these, so the company could have some idea of how big the job was, how to price it, and how many people might be needed. They went about his by ordering up a “density report”. That’s a bit of army jargon for just such a list of equipment. All hands were pressed into service, visiting each mess-hall, listing the equipment present, condition, serial numbers and so forth. I generally went along with a chap who had come over in our group named Bob; he’d had been a refrigerator repairman back home. Bob was one of the few truly competent people I met while in VN: he could listen to a machine and instantly diagnose whether it was operating correctly or not, and if not, tell you exactly what was wrong with it. He was also a very pleasant chap, laid back, entertaining. The job, and eventually Dandy Dan, got to him, though, and a few weeks on he broke contract and went home.

Meanwhile, letters from home were arriving fairly regularly, and these often contained clippings and questions. So, six days on, I wrote as follows:

30 March, 1968

Dear Everybody~

Dad’s last letter, mailed your-time Monday, reached me my-time Thursday, as he predicted. I hadn’t known anything about the trip to Portland in advance, but am certainly glad you are getting around OK after your set-back at Christmastime. I’ve started this letter this evening, but expect I may not finish it until sometime tomorrow.

I about dropped my teeth when your articles enclosed in the last letter fluttered to the floor, and, as I picked them up, W R  Hearst’s face popped out: I can recall the time when Hearst papers weren’t even allowed in the house, along with funnybooks and such. Ah, well, times do change.

Going back a few letters, you asked what the military situation here is, and after some sleuthing, I’ve uncovered most of it. Like all Gaul, the US involvement here is quartered into three halves. There is, in the first place, MACV (Military Assistance Command-Vietnam); this is the advisory group which has many men in the field with the various (and numerous) ARVN units, at all levels. Whether any real assistance takes place one cannot really tell. Then, there is USARV (United States Army-Vietnam), with all of its jillions of subdivisions and so forth. This, of course, is where the bulk of our fighting forces are to be found, along with lesser numbers of Navy, Marine, and Air Force units. Then there is (directly under USARV) the First Logistical Command, which directs all of the logistics of the entire operation, and for whom PA&E and the other US Companies here work. Then, there is USAID (United States Assistance for International Development), which I have mentioned in previous letters. And then there is the Free World Forces which have to be coordinated into the picture in various ways (most of them come more or less directly under the command of USARV). Now if this seems likely to be a confusing situation, consider the fact that in addition to the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN), there are at least six other local organisations of militiamen, more or less armed, who enter the picture at various levels from nationwide down to hamlet level. Consider the fact, too, (alluded to by Dad’s last letter) that ALL of these organisations are to various extents infiltrated by VC and by NLF sympathizers.

Now, depending on the location, there are two basic situations that can occur in the midst of all this. One is the sort of thing going on in the North, around Khe Sanh and Hue, where a more-or-less constant state of siege exists, which enables the local commanders to take some initiative in attempting to locate and eliminate the enemy. But in the south, the situation is very different. Even on the highly touted Search and Destroy missions, the American forces ARE NOT ALLOWED TO INITIATE any action, but must wait until “engaged” by the enemy (that is, the VC must fire the first shot). Once begun, the engagement will last as long as the enemy returns fire, or until he is wiped out. Now, the ARVN units also conduct S&D missions, and are under no restrictions, so that it has often happened that US and ARVN units, through a failure of communication of intentions, have engaged each other! It further happens, and quite frequently, that US reconnaissance locates, in one way or another, a group of VC: let’s say in a small hamlet they have taken over a pagoda and have intimidated the local people by a few well-placed bullets. Further suppose that recon learns positively that there are four emplaced mortars within the pagoda compound, poised for shots at some nearby target. This info can all be transmitted to ARVN if any are nearby and  they can go in and try to root out the enemy. On the other hand, if the US Army brass decides they can do the job better, the permission of the ARVN Commander, and a host of other people, often right down to the hamlet chief, must first be obtained, by which time the enemy has long since learned they have been detected, and has departed. All too frequently, when permission is at last received, we go in and blow up an empty pagoda, and half the rest of the town along with it: the dead may well be counted as VC—but where their politicil affiliations (if any) truly lay no one can say. Then, too, there are the snafus that seemingly occur in every stupid war, such as bombing our own units or known friendly villages and that sort of thing. You won’t often hear about these in the US, but these snafus occur quite regularly.

The Newsweek article “The Agony of Khe Sanh” was pretty badly received here: at least one reaction I have already sent home. The most frequent argument against it has not to do with the facts, but with the interweaving of fact and editorializing in such a way that the editors’ opinions seem to emerge as fact. We must face the fact that the article was, in the main, propaganda. But there were few errors of fact in what was reported as such, and the magazine freely admits the rest was a position it felt compelled to take. The letters to the editor in the front of the same issue were revealing—in that they were all from Vietnam and all were chastising the magazine. Newsweek is one of the few US magazines that has had one of its reporters kicked out by the Saigon Government, which may also cast some light on the matter. For myself, I can find little to argue with in the article, except their disregard of the Geneva Agreement (1954), and one other thing:

Among the most puzzling aspects of the feedback from the States that we get here is the Press’s canonization of General Giap. Disregarding the politics involved, I find it dismaying that he should be regarded as “brilliant”, masterful, etc  for he has used tactics over and over again that cannot be justified on any grounds that I can think of. His takeover in Hue was accompanied by bloodletting among the civilians there on a par with similar debacles in Cuba, Hungary, and even Germany at various times: at other times, these tactics have been decried and denounced on every front, yet here, General Giap emerges as some sort of a Master Tactician who has outsmarted the US at every turn and managed to keep the offensive throughout. It doesn’t add up, in my book…

What may not have been very clear before Tet, however, is certainly painfully apparent now in these days following it. Hearst’s article and others in the states have called attention to the fact that is now overwhelmingly clear, namely, that for all the billions we have poured down this rathole, we have little or nothing to show for it. The enemy’s forces and will have not been markedly reduced; the South VNese are not markedly better-off than previously; we have not created a solid middle-class citizenry; we have not raised to power a popular and strong government; we have not won the affection or support of the majority of the South VNese; and we certainly have not “won” the war.

I for one, am appalled by President Johnson’s fixation on plodding on with this whole affair. There are times when stubborness is an asset, and times when flexibility pays off: of the latter, I see no evidence in Johnson during the last few months. Determination is one thing, but fanaticism is something else again. Time and again, he has been assured by various people of position and note that this-or-that action would open up avenues to the negotiating table, and he has turned a deaf ear to them all. Indeed, every time a new approach is made, he has escalated not only the war, but his demands for conditions on the negotiations. All this is in line with his hope for bringing the enemy to his knees to cry “uncle” before he gives an inch: but if he cannot see that this policy is a complete and utter failure, then he is both blind and very ill advised, and not only he, but all of those surrounding him should be swept out of office at the first opportunity. Among the most sensible alternatives I’ve seen, but by no means the only one, is Rep. Clausen’s detailed by Hearst in the clipping Dad sent. At least this proposal takes cognizance of the fact that all of asia should be considered as a whole, not as a separate series of staging-areas for a succession of wars against communism; it also takes into account what Mr. Johnson and friends seem totally unable to grasp, which is that the world-wide rising tide is one of Nationalism, NOT Communism (this is even becoming evident now in the so-called Soviet-Bloc nations). If we had any sense at all we would climb on to the bandwagon (just as some nations did when WE were fighting for our own independence) instead of trying to scuttle it.

As to stateside politics, the situation is not a very happy one. Rocky’s decision not to run actively has been very quickly forgotten, and the possibility of his being “drafted” is not overlooked, though unless the Nixon campaign hits some deep sand-traps, it seems unlikely anyone would want to draft Rockefeller. Kennedy’s decision, on the other hand, came as a surprise to no one, but he has been quite roundly criticised for trying to pull the rug out from under McCarthy. It seems to me that K reckons he can count on McCarthy votes coming his way at the convention if he can split the first vote badly enough to keep McCarthy out. Personnaly, I hope McCarthy can pull a rabbit out of his sleeve and get the nomination—but it will be a tough thing to accomplish. McCarthy is getting some criticism here for his own devotion to the Vietnam question to the exclusion of everything else; on the other hand, many feel that if he can succeed in solving the Vietnam thing some way, the rest will more or less automatically come along. We’ll have to gamble on it, I think. The forthcoming summer, which is almost bound to be long and very hot, may, of course, change the political climate before November. I would not take any bet that Wallace won’t win!

Three pages of this sort of thing ought to do for now: I’m hungry, and dinner is about to be served upstairs—Vietnamese. I constantly surprise myself by ordering and enjoying the local concoctions. Needless to say, I have lost NO weight over here!

Love to all …
Bruce

PS:

I just had the most interesting  and unlikely-sounding dinner. I understand there are several variations on it, but the essential combination of ingredients is cauliflower and shrimps! In this case, the shrimps were pounded in a mortar to make a paste, (seasoned, no doubt), and the paste was sort of wrapped around individual flowerettes of cauliflower, then rolled in breadcrumbs or meal, and the whole rapidly deep-fried. Delicious!

I understand it is also served simply as boiled cauliflower and shrimps prepared in more conventional fashion: one take a bite of each and combine them at the table.

Imagine eating like this—with my picky ways of savoring each item individually at home. The essence of Vietnamese cooking is precisely in the exotic combinations of ingredients, frequently 15-20 individual items in a single concoction. But it really comes out very good.

There is also a very interesting local fruit here, called a Vu Sua, which I am told is to be had in the states under the name of Paw-Paw, though I’ve never seen them there. The things are ugly round green things, with a peculiar milky white juice and what appears to be very stringy insides: but the entire interior (except for the black seeds) is very sweet, with a taste that combines the essence of strawberries and cantaloupe melon and comes up with something unique. Fine eating, but currently out of season and not too easy to get. Mangoes, of course, abound, but I’m not as fond of them as of the Vu Suas.

Cheers, & Bon Appetit!

___________________

All my life I’ve been one of the least adventuresome of eaters—of food, at any rate. I’ve always been a “meat and potatoes” guy, and prefer to consume all of each item on the plate before moving on to the next: I like to savor the flavor of each item individually, rather than mix them all up. Desiring to continue eating this way meant I took most meals in a BOQ or mess-hall. But I did break out now and then and eat things the Vietnamese ate, and generally found it palatable. On my subsequent motorcycle trip around the Gulf of Tonkin, the food problem became acute, but more on that as the narrative continues.

There will be more photos as my tale unfolds, though as mentioned elsewhere, I rarely carried a camera while working in Vietnam.

Stay tuned for more adventures.

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.

June 24, 2009

Operations are almost “drive-through” these days. I was in the hospital yesterday from 10 am until 6 pm. Of that time, I was on the operating table less than an hour! The remainder was preparation (2 hours) and recovery (5 hours).

After the Gallbladder Surgery

Nothing but a big black hole where my gall bladder was. Of the operation itself, of course, I have no recollection: I was out cold! Now, I have some minor pain around my tummy: after all, my old bod has been assaulted rather violently. But the laparoscopic technique is so much less invasive than the old “carve ‘em up” approach that I should be back to what passes for normal (in my case) quite soon.

There was plenty of time to think through some more of my most recent story, Nature Boy. The second installment is mostly on the computer now: I just have to do a little polishing and convert it to ASCII per Nifty’s rules and get it uploaded.

Thanks for all your kind wishes, of which there were none at [email protected] . Perhaps I have no readers!

May 29, 2009

NUCLEAR NON-PROLIFERATION

Before I begin the next phase of my narrative, a word about non-proliferation. It seems to me the notion is flawed, as it maintains some who have the bomb, and some who do not. Inevitably, those who do not have the bomb want it, hence Iran, and other countries  trying to make one, or buy one from North Korea (who needs the money and will sell anything to anyone).

My answer would be to scrap the non-proliferation treaty and offer a bomb (or several) to  any country that wanted one and was willing to take on the expense of maintaining, protecting and accounting for it. It seems  to me that everyone who does not have one would take one (or a few – the number does not matter). What matters is that when everyone had “the bomb” anyone tempted to use one would know they would be subjected to instant annihilation if they did so. The plan is Mutual Assured Destruction (MAD) carried to its ultimate extreme. While it could lead to the end of the earth as we know it, my feeling is that would not happen. MAD did a good job of staving off nuclear war for many years, until Dubya substituted his “Preemptive Strike” (PS) doctrine, and see what that got us! The problem with preemptive strike is that anyone can strike preemptively: there is nothing to prevent Iran or North Korea or any other country from adopting that policy, and there is really no rational protection against it. MAD would be a far more potent dis-incentive to “strike first and ask questions later”, which is how George implemented PS. The total destruction of a sovereign nation (Iraq) was the result: there is a lot of blood on George’s hands, and I wish to see him pay the appropriate price for it.

CALM BEFORE THE STORM

The two years between 1964 (divorce from Johnny) and 1966 (next love) were relatively uneventful. At work I was moving up the ladder slowly; away from work I was foot-loose and fancy-free. I played the field, often spending Friday and Saturday nights at a mixed bar called Bligh’s Bounty. At the time, it was a pretty laid-back place where guys who liked black men could hang out, and where black men who likes whites could do the same. I got to know some very nice fellows: most of the time the juke-box was low enough so a decent (and occasionally indecent) conversation could be had. That came to an end with the installation of live go-go boys, who danced to a much louder juke-box.

The guys were pretty enough, though they rarely were allowed to “let it all hang out” in those days: they wore skimpy speedos or posing-straps. But the notion they were up there being looked at by all the guys in the place resulted in awesome attitude problems: they were untouchable, whereas the more ordinary folk in the bar were at least open to the notion of a toss in the hay. I managed to trick from Bligh’s now and then, but most of my sex was occurring in the tubs, specifically the Turk Street Baths.

The TSB was, in those days, a fairly classy and reasonably safe place. It generally filled to over-flowing on weekends, but my favorite night was Thursday. The Thursday night crowd was mainly made up of guys who couldn’t wait for Friday and who were “hot to trot”. In the feverish weekend crowd, too many guys were waiting for “Mr. Right”, so a less-than-perfect guy like me went without. But on Thursdays? Whooooopee! I could usually score, and had some really wonderful nights there.

Just once in those days, I contracted a case of anal clap. I knew I was taking a chance on a fellow I’d not seen before and who was a bit more drunk than I’d have liked: but he was cute, and hung poorly-enough that I could manage. Later, at the City Health Clinic, a nurse gave me two shots of penicillin, one in each hip.

She said, “A few deep squats will help relieve the sting”.

I replied, “Lady, how do you think I got into this condition?”

She fell out, laughing: I’d made her day.

I resolved to be more careful.

FATEFUL MEETING

One night I stayed at Bligh’s later than usual, and joined some fellows who invited me to ride with them over to the Jumping Frog on Polk Street. I’d heard of it, but had never gone: it stayed open “after hours”. But when we got there, it was packed beyond managing, and was filled with fumes from smokers, and everyone there was more drunk than I, and more drunk than I cared for, so I departed, planning to catch an “owl” bus that took me within a block of where I was then living. I missed a bus by minutes, and had to wait an hour on the street for another. When it arrived, now around 3 in the morning, there was only one person (beside the driver) on it, a black dude seated at the back of the bus. I dropped down beside him, and we struck up a desultory conversation that soon lapsed, until it devolved that we both got off at the same stop. I suggested he could stop in for coffee, and he agreed.

I was not immediately drawn to Cornell: I got the impression he was straight, but we were engaged in somewhat similar work and there were topics we could discuss meaningfully. We drank coffee and chatted amiably until nearly 5 A M, when he decided he should be getting home. For whatever reason, as he stood, I simply said, “I’d really like to hug you before you go”.

THE STORM

That was all it took! Pretty soon we were rolling around on my bed, kissing and carrying on. We were in no hurry to get undressed, and in fact never did. He got my manhood out of my pants, but for the most part, we engaged in frottage, something with which I was not very familiar. We went at this for at least an hour, and I found him very exciting: he was gentle and caring: what of him I could feel was smooth and silky, and I wanted more, more, MORE!

All of a sudden, he leapt out of bed and ran to the bathroom. I got there soon after to find him mopping up: he’d had an orgasm in his pants! The familiar smell of cum (not to mention hours of exciting fore-play) led me to jack off and add my seed to his, a process that took only a few moments, but which was explosive on my part. Then I helped him clean up, gave him a clean pair of my own tighty-whities, and sent him on his way after exchanging phone numbers.

The upshot of all this is we saw a good deal of each other for a few months. I discovered that Cornell was an expert fucker: he fucked me often, and made me enjoy it every time. To do so, he had to get nude, and I reveled in his superb body, very black, glabrous, and without any adipose tissue at all. He was not particularly muscular, but just perfectly constructed and sexy. I was very soon wrapped up in Cornell, and it seemed like he liked me and appreciated my sense of humor and my horniness whenever he came around.

In late March that year I took a short job in Albuquerque, New Mexico, then took a train to Chicago, thence to Montreal and St. Hyacinthe, PQ, home of the famous pipe organ builders Casavant Freres Ltee. The notion at the time was I should go to work there. Cornell looked after my place while I was gone.

But the weather sucked! Winter was over, but Spring hadn’t sprung: it was miserably cold, and I quickly decided it was no place for a native Californian. Also, I spoke no French, and it was clear that to work there I would have had to do so. I shortened my stay and took a train to New York: Easter was fast approaching, but I really wanted to get back home to Cornell. I phoned him my ETA and headed west by plane on Easter Sunday.

When I entered my house, it was empty. Until I reached the bedroom, where Cornell was waiting to surprise me. Man, oh man! Coming home to a beautiful guy I was hoping before long to call my lover: what more could a 30 year old gay boy want?

What, indeed!

A few days later, the roof fell in on my life. Cornell announced he was already married (to a guy) and that his dalliance with me was over. It had just been a ”lark”, a conquest, and it was done.

Jesus H. Christelberger! I went into a deep funk. I managed to keep working, but going home every night, alone again, no prospects, no nuthin’, sent me into a tail-spin. I stalked his house, hoping for glimpses of him, but he eluded me. I was, to put it mildly, heart-broken.

How I got out of this depression will be reported in my next episode, so stay tuned!

THERE WILL ALWAYS BE AN AD MAN DEPARTMENT

I was amused a while back when UPS ran it’s “WHAT CAN BROWN DO FOR YOU?” adverts. Because, when I was coming out in my early twenties, a popular euphemism for fucking was “browning”. It was used as a verb, “to brown”, as in “I’d like to brown him”. Somewhere in the east there was a school called the Browning School: gay guys in my generation loved to have a picture taken of themselves under the sign “Browning School for Boys”. The term seems to have died out, along with “corn-holing”.

More recently, there was the flap about the Repugnant Party expropriating the term “tea-bagging” for some silly protest march. Reporting on that gave Olbermann many opportunities for delicious puns.

So yesterday I opened The Nation and found this ad:

The answer of course is C U M ! Or is “pearl necklace” another term we used to use that’s gone by the wayside?

THE CURRENT PORN SCENE

I do wonder if one reason guys don’t want to be in the showers together any more is because so many of them are shaving off their pubic hair. According to some bloggers, close to a quarter of today’s young men are doing this. As for the porn stars, they shave all over! But all the signals are mixed: why festoon your lovely body with tattoos, if you’re afraid to strip down and show them off? How long before the gym showers are segregated into straight and gay? It is all very confusing.

ON WITH MY NARRATIVE: MY OLDER BROTHER

Towards the end of my time with Johnny, there came a weekend when I simply HAD to get away. I asked my older brother to wire me a plane ticket to Southern California, where I spent time with him, his wife and kids, and several boxer dogs. On my last night there, my brother said, “I sense there’s some problems you are working on: if you wanna talk about them, we gotta do it tonight cuz I gotta go to work in the morning.”

It was now or never! I steeled myself for his reaction, up to and possibly including throwing me out of the house, and said, “Well, for the last several years, I’ve been married to this guy, and it hasn’t been going well at all.”

Bro said, “Yeah: we know all about that. I was in the Navy, we had some gay guys on board, and as Captain I had to deal with it. You see how Leena and I get into it now and then: it seems to come with the territory. But, if the situation isn’t what you want, get out of it.”

No histrionics. No hysterics. Matter of fact. My brother already knew I was gay. He had never mentioned it.

What a relief!

MY OLDEST BROTHER

Motivated by yet another flare-up with Johnny, one night I sat down and wrote a long letter to my oldest brother, revealing all. His reaction, when it came, startled me. He reminded me of an occasion years before when he had arrived at the family home in Modesto: I remembered it well. He had driven in with a lot of noise and honking, and when he came into the house, Butch and I (we’d been carrying on in my bedroom) were dressed and composed. It turned out, my brother had driven by the house and seen a strange car in the driveway, and a light on in my bedroom. He parked a few doors away, walked back and and peeped into my bedroom, observed Butch and me for a while, then made is his noisy entrance. He never said a word to me about it until years later! Whether I was gay, straight or otherwise, he could care less!

MY FOLKS

I soon discovered that both of my brothers had discussed my being gay with my father. Of course, he discussed it with my stepmother. So, when at last I broached the subject with my Dad, he finally asked me if I identified my self as a homosexual, and I had to reply that I did. He took it in stride, and we rarely ever spoke of it again. Eventually, he gave me the same advice with respect to Johnny as my brother had, and helped me cope with some of the fallout when the “divorce” finally eventuated.

My stepmother, who had connections in education circles in Modesto, finally admitted she had heard on the “grapevine” that the administrators of my high school were all convinced I was gay! I wish they had told me, dammit! It seems they all thought I was sucking dick at a great rate, when in fact I was so sure I was some sort of misfit I wasn’t doing diddly-squat. (Except whacking-off every chance I got). Sheeeeesh!

EPILOGUE

Many years later, when Dad had retired for the third time, I was home one weekend. He explained he had been going through all the books in the house, disposing of out-dated texts and so forth. I asked him if he had gotten rid of my favorite of his books.

“What book was that?”

“ The Sexual Life of the Child, by Alfred Moll.”

He consulted his card-file. “No, I still have it. Why were you interested in it?”

“‘Cause I usta steal it from your office and read it! It had a lot of case-histories ‘n stuff. And, Moll  advanced the theory that because the penis is a muscle, masturbation favored development.”

Dad chuckled, and (punning unintentionally) said, “You know, we’ve come full circle on that topic in my lifetime: why, I can remember going to the Denver YMCA when I was about 14 to hear some guy tell us all about the ‘evils of masturbation.’ In fact, that’s where I learned about it!”

Well, old Moll was something of a nitwit, but the book had been written in the twenties. I still have it. His theory about masturbation favoring development has long since been disproved. But I love the picture my Dad conjured of some old fart going around the country talking about the “evils of masturbation” and thereby introducing hundreds of horny boys to it.

We used to say, “Join the YMCA and do it the Christian way!”

MOVING ON WITH MY LIFE

At this point I was approaching 30. Out, when it mattered. Out to my family, to whom it did NOT matter. I had a decent job, my Dad’s old ‘53 Chrysler V-8 to drive. The next major event in my life would occur in 1966.

Stay tuned!

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AND NOW, FOR A SPECIAL COMMENT

With apologies to Keith Olbermann! He and Rachel Maddow are the freshest breaths of air to hit televised news in years! I’m sorry they have to share MSNBC facilities with that loathsome “Predator” series and the interminable, disgusting “Lock-up” crap, but at least they are ON THE AIR!

So far in this blog, I’ve described some of my life up to the age of 15, when I finally discovered what the thing between my legs could be used for besides taking a whiz. In today’s environment, especially in San Francisco, I can’t imagine a boy reaching the age of 15 without making this wonderful discovery much earlier. Indeed, polls at many of the blogs I read suggest that it’s fairly typical for boys to get their first blow-job around 12, by which time, one presumes, they had been jerking off for some time. [Now that the “Fondling Fathers” have been largely put out of business, this age-level may rise a bit]  {chuckle}.

But, it is fair to ask, how did I manage to get to 15 without even masturbating? Even after a cousin had been so kind as  to show me how!

Well, for one thing, my “hormone treatments” were late to arrive. I had my own bedroom always, so it was unusual to see even my brothers nude. I rarely saw my parents in the altogether either, and seeing any other people nude, in fact or photos, simply did not happen in those days. While I’m sure there was an underground trade in “smut”, it was never seen or discussed in my family. And remember, in those days, even Batman & Robin, always fully dressed, didn’t show a lot of basket, and genitals were routinely air-brushed out in most of the illustrations in the National Geographic! I do remember poring over the Monkey-Wards and Sears catalogues, looking at the underwear ads. Even there, though, “bumps” were not prominent, body hair was generally de-emphasized (on those guys and men who would have had any to start with), so there was really almost nothing salacious for a budding young queer to enjoy! I was not into sports or swimming, so even a classmate in a bathing-suit was a rare sight.

I remember being fascinated by a boy named Frankie in my Carmichael days: I was particularly attracted to his arms, which were finely shaped. He was many shades darker than me due to some mediterranean blood I suppose. I joined the Cub-Scouts, not because I had any interest in badges and all that stuff, but because the pack generally met at his house where his mom was den-mother. When it turned out all they ever did was play tag football on the huge expanse of lawn there, I lost interest in the scouts and retreated into my fantasies of touching Frankie’s lovely limbs. I still enjoy a well-shaped arm. It does not have to be particularly muscular; in fact, many of the photos I see nowadays are of guys whose arms are too muscular. My favorite pics are of naturally well-built fellows without the evidence of “pumping iron” so common nowadays.

There were lots of “pin-up girls”, but I was utterly uninterested in them: the belief that I ought to be interested led to a lot of grief!

Neither my own parents nor any others I knew were particularly demonstrative. Anything beyond a casual embrace was reserved for times when we kids were in bed! There were no TV shows for me to watch: Dad didn’t allow a TV into the house until good color-sets became common (late 1950’s).

Carl (he of horse fame) did show us (often) his dad’s collection of porno pictures, clearly obtained through underground sources. But these were straight porn, all in grainy black & white, and mostly in a tiny wallet-size format. Despite being dog-eared and grimy, they seemed to do it for Carl and his friends: they did nothing for me!

But the most telling feature that led to my remaining so innocent so late was my belief that I was some sort of one-off freak. In those days, “gay” meant light-hearted and charming; “queer” meant odd or strange; a “fairy” was something that took a tooth in the night. It would be years before I heard the word “homosexual” uttered by anyone, even though throughout most of my high-school years, the faculty and administration thought I WAS ONE!

WHY THE F*CK DIDN’T THEY TELL ME?!

I learned, years later, they all thought I was sucking every cock in the school. If they had only told me, I’d have obliged, willingly!

Even after my revelation in the gym, overhearing two boys discussing their alleged shooting prowess, I did not immediately realize my peers were probably doing and thinking the same sexual things I was because I was convinced they would all be thinking in terms of doing it with girls. Even when I kind-of figured out that guys might be relieving themselves just as I was soon doing daily, the idea of approaching any of them to do it with me remained beyond the pale. Much as I wanted to, I could not bring myself to proposition any of the guys I lusted after and dreamed about. Damn!

So, I blundered on, oblivious to what adults around me thought I was up to. I was a Junior in college before I learned there were, in fact, other guys with feelings similar to mine, willing to act on those impulses. I was in my 20’s before I got or gave a blow-job, but that’s for another page later on.

To be continued …