Uncategorized at M Y O B

February 22, 2009

MJC

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

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

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

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

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

UR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[email protected]

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

/rant mode on/

ADVERTISEMENTS ON THE TELLY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/rant mode off/

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

ITS A LOT OF

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

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

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS

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

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

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

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

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

TROMPE – L’ŒIL

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

Coming soon: I go to College. Stay tuned…

As the late, great Anna Russell often said, “I’m not making this up, you know!” Shown below is a scan of one of the many pages of my letters from VietNam. My long-hand was better then than it is now, so I can actually read most of these as I transcribe them for your edification and entertainment.

One of the many pages of my letters from VietNam

Continuing my letters describing my first days in Saigon, during the Tet Offensive.

Saturday AM Feb 3, 1968

Still under curfew. The night was locally quiet, but the VC mortared the Cho-lon power sub-station but missed. Distant heavy artillery continued, and I understand this goes on at all times. The VC are slowly being cleaned up in town; there are still a few pockets of them left, and snipers are still around. The enclosed leaflets were dropped this morning: they tell the remaining VC how many of their comrades have bit the dust since the big push started. and what they can expect if they don’t turn themselves in.

The feeling of boredom setting in is strongly reinforced in some of us by helplessness. We are one block from the RC [Roman Catholic] hospital, where I’m sure we could do some useful work. But the oriental philosophy prevents this: the local people feel they have the situation under control, and do not want our assistance; in part this is because by accepting it they would be admitting the need for it. “Face” is all-important to orientals, and the ramifications this involves are hard for us to understand. Then too, there is a certain amount of anti-american feeling among the South Vietnamese, who reason that our presence is responsible for the current hardships, not to mention many civilian casualties. It is easy to overlook the hardships that they would almost certainly face if we were not here. While it is certainly true that our military presence is pretty obvious, the less obvious—but more important—impact on the local economy is quite easily observable. In many ways, the South Vietnamese never had it so good, despite inflation, and despite the VC attacks. Many of the VC defections are prompted by the realization that they’re better off living off of us than fighting against us. Unquestionably, Ho Chi Minh is fighting an ideological war, for economically he would be far ahead to capitulate and let us spread our wealth throughout all Vietnam, rather than just in the south. I have not seen anything yet to alter my conviction that Vietnam should be united in accordance with the Geneva Convention of 1954, even if that means electing Ho as President, as it certainly would. But then, I really haven’t seen much of South VietNam, so this conviction could yet change. Well, more later…

7:30 PM

Things are returning to normal—whatever that is. The guards in the streets are more lax, and some small amount of traffic is beginning to flow. The big guns in the distance can be heard, but the occasional firing in the streets has very nearly stopped. Our hotel has run out of nearly everything, so many of us will doubtless try to get downtown tomorrow, and it seems almost certain we’ll be getting on with our work on Monday, when I will also be able to mail this letter. How soon you get it depends on various factors. Military aircraft and personnel flights are now operating from Tan Son Nhut, but commercial flights other than charter and freight aren’t yet back in operation. The mail should go out quickly—I do hope so, so you won’t be in suspense longer than necessary.

Well, more tomorrow, after (hopefully) a trip down-town to see what’s left.

Sunday PM, 4 February 1968

A group of us walked down-town today, but it was largely a futile effort. The curfew on the Vietnamese was lifted from 8 [am] to 2 pm, but it being Sunday nothing opened up anyhow. The BOQs were serving only stew—we suspect it was water-buffalo—and though the Brinks PX was open, the lines to get in were so long that we didn’t bother. Altogether a dull walk, but at least a change from the duller existence here. Another civilian (U.S.) curfew went into effect at 7:00 pm tonight, to last until 8 am tomorrow—this to continue indefinitely.

Tonight’s TV news reports 9 civilian U.S. killed in Saigon since 29 January. Rumors tonight have it that 3 PA&E people got it today; one of those allegedly killed was a man I met at Long Binh last Tuesday. But rumors are a dime a dozen here, and I won’t believe it until I hear it from a much more reliable source.

Sporadic incidents around town are still being reported. 2000 VC have been killed in Saigon since they infiltrated the night of the 29th Jan. Civilian (VN) casualties are heavy, but no count has been given. Estimates put the remaining VC in Saigon at around 700; untold numbers surround the city as well. Refugees since 29 January coming into Saigon now number over 25,000; they are fleeing either from VC or from bombed out homes in the Delta. One of the popular tricks of the VC is to infiltrate a number of homes and slaughter the occupants; the remaining people surrounding, fearing their own safety, refuse to let the word out on the location of such an enclave. When the ARVN or police close in, the VC set fire to the area and when the local people flee, they [VC] go along unnoticed. The police can’t get them without killing numerous innocent people.

We have no idea whether we’ll go to work or get on with our processing tomorrow or not. Commercial operations at Tan Son Nhut have been resumed. Assuming they have the necessary buses and can arrange an escort, we probably will go to CMO—after all, we’re all on salary & accomplishing nothing here. But if buses and escorts are not available—and they are in short supply—we might not get back to it for a while.

In any event, I shall try every possible way to get this letter off tomorrow, hoping you may get it by Wed or Thursday. If I fail, all I can do is hang on to it, as before! For now, then, off to bed —

Love to all
Bruce

Nine days into my stay at VietNam, and I haven’t done anything of use to anyone! Little did I know that seven months on, I could report very nearly the same thing! Note my optimism that if I got a letter “off” Monday, the folks would get it 2 or 3 days later: in actuality, most letters took closer to two weeks to reach the States.

Here I began a second letter.

2:00 pm, 5 February 1968

Dear Everybody ~

Despite our hopes of getting out again today, it has not come about. A representative of PA&E did come by this morning to see if we are still OK; he confirmed the rumor that 3 PA&E Entomologists were killed yesterday, but the circumstances are not yet known. All in all, the word is that 22 PA&E people have been killed all over Vietnam since 29 January.

Today there is no movement of VN or U.S. civilian personnel without armed guard; there being a lack of the latter, only essential services are being maintained. Garbage has been piling up in the streets (shades of New York!). Sporadic fighting still rages, some of it quite close to us here.

(Later)

As I wrote that last sentence, a whole lot of shooting erupted nearby. A bevy of VC have apparently been flushed out by a fire about one long block westward, and they’re being fired upon as they flee. A number of grenades have been heard. We have orders to stay altogether in-doors now, so somebody is getting worried about our getting hit. More later . . .

6:00 pm

Well, well! The action got a bit thick around here for a while this afternoon, and may get thicker before the night is over. Electricity has been off since shortly after noon, which means we’ll soon be out of water, and rations are getting quite short. PA&E is trying to arrange to have us evacuated, but they have a great shortage of help, vehicles and security guards, who are military, of course, and are pretty busy.

The PA&E man who came by this am took my last letter out—I hope it gets through. As soon as I can I will cable, but being restricted as we are makes this impossible. More later . . .

6:00 pm, Tuesday, 6 February 68

Well—now I know something about psychological warfare, at least. The action reported on page 1 of this letter, yesterday, got to within a block of us. About 2 hours after it had died down, 2 americans arrived at our compound alleging they’d been driven out by advancing VC. Their no doubt greatly exaggerated estimate of the number involved was “at least 100″—and at this point, 5 people in our group panicked. A flurry of phone calls to PA&E CMO resulted in nothing, and by 11:00 pm someone had us surrounded by 2000 VC, with two ARVN battalions trying to fight their way on to [rescue] us, etc., etc., etc., ad infinitum, ad nauseam! The fact that there was absolute calm for miles around, so far as a good ear could judge, and the fact there was less shooting in the streets (almost none) than the night before made no difference. One stupid b—–d brought out a .45 revolver and packed it around—cocked—all night, supposedly protecting us (it is strictly verboten for U.S. civilians to carry weapons, and this nut is surely going to be shipped home because of it—good riddance). I was a lot more worried about this guy and his pistol that I was about the VC. He sat out on the street side balcony all night, a perfect sniper target, and generally raised enough Hell to keep us all pretty well awake most of the night.

February 7, 1968

So: all the telephoning and bitching finally resulted in our being evacuated mid-afternoon today. We’re now staying at the “Tourist Hotel”, which, compared with the facilities we had at the Loc building, is a dump. Latest military intelligence (not the most reliable) has it that Phan-thanh-Gian street (where we were) will get “a lot of action” tonight—but the bamboo telegraph says otherwise. The only saving feature of this hole is that is is closer to down-town, but otherwise has no apparent virtue.

I can get mail out better, from here, so I’ll probably mail this when I finish it. Please send all clippings you can about what’s supposed to be going on down here: the news black-out is very bad.

Unless I’m mistaken, it was Rudyard Kipling who wrote in one of his poems about what happens to he who “Hustles the East”. His astuteness considerably pre-dates Eisenhower and others who warned of the dangers of an Asian land war!

It is now fairly clear at to what happened, here in Saigon, al least, in the current offensive. On the night of 29 January, about 2500 VC infiltrated the city in 2s & 3s from the surrounding delta areas. Their missions were well planned and generally involved taking and holding for 48 hours certain key points. This they managed fairly well to do. But their back-up teams were largely either cut off or were non-existent, and when food ran low, the VC began some skirmishes on their own to cover retreats. These still continue sporadically, so the curfews remain in effect and the lid is clamped on all movement from 1900 to 0800 every night. Apparently, the VC hoped they could spark a general uprising aimed at evicting the “Free World Forces” (i.e., U.S.) but their own atrocities largely thwarted their own attempt. The lowest figure for South Vietnamese dead in the fighting (not counting ARVN) is over 500, with 2-4000 wounded. This is probably a conservative figure.

It’s now anyone’s guess when the mop-up operations are sufficiently complete to allow of our complete processing and assignment. The CMO office, which was confused enough before all this began, is doubtless utter chaos now, so the last thing they want hanging around is a bunch of green processees. I’m inclined to doubt that anything significant will happen for most of us in the remainder of this week, and in my own case, it may be two weeks before the hiway to Long Binh is secure and buses re-established. C’est la guerre!

Love to all,
Bruce

The tourist Hotel was one of the most pestilential places I ever stayed in: I was amazed there were no bed-bugs. Once again CA and I were in the same room, but there was a 10KW generator-set right outside the window providing power for the building 24/7. It made a heck of a racket and smelled of diesel fuel. Even so, we were fortunate: most of our group wound up on the top floor which was just a barracks with rows of beds. The dude with the .45 undertook to clean it one afternoon, and forgot to unload it first, so managed to fire a ram-rod across the room, narrowly missing a fellow nearby. This chap was on the next plane out, contract torn up, assignment rescinded. The other unfortunate thing about the Tourist Hotel was that it stood directly in the line of fire aimed at the Palace, and it was hit once or twice later on. But mainly, it was horribly run-down: about all that kept it alive was that infernal generator!

Pathetically, there was one older man there who was being sent home: according to gossip, he’d been on a bender for over two months, and I never saw him sober. A couple of days later two men were assigned to dry him out so he could fly, and one of them went with him to keep him from arriving home soused. We were told this failed, and he had to be poured off the plane back in Los Angeles.

I spent my 32nd birthday in this hell-hole, as mentioned in the next letter.

Just turned 32 Photo taken in the Loc Building, probably just after my birthday.

8 February 1968 (here!)

Dear Folks,

Well, today’s my 32nd birthday here—tomorrow at home—so I guess I’ll celebrate twice! We did get out to CMO today—it’s still there, but utter chaos—and managed to get letters off, buy stamps, change some money, and—miraculously—found my transfer papers to Long Binh!

Got the nicest possible birthday present from PA&E—a raise! And I haven’t done an hour’s useful work since I arrived. Somewhere along the way I was classified as GS-13 equivalent, which carries a base salary of $1100 per month instead of the $960 that I hired in at. The classification is retroactive to 25 January, so every day I’ve been here I’ve been on that salary. From what I’ve seen of the cost of living here in Saigon, I should be able to live comfortably on $350/month, and am going to do my best to sock away the remaining $1000 per month. (1100 + 250 living allowance = $1350/mo).

Things are slowly returning to “normal” but it’s obvious that it will take longer than anyone first thought. Latest G-2 (intelligence) places the number of VC in Saigon at about the same number as were here before the offensive began: this is normal, as there are generally thought to be about one battalion (1800) in Saigon at all times. Normally they are underground and indistinguishable from other LNs.

I must digress here to explain the ludicrous parlance the U.S. military has built up to describe the various peoples here:

1. The native population is variously known as

First Country Nationals (FCN)

First State Nationals (FSN)

Local Nationals (LN)

or (least often) Vietnamese

2. U. S. Civilians are

Second Country Nationals

Second State Nationals

or Civilians

3. Koreans, Filipinos, Australians and so forth are

Third Country Nationals

etc.,

or (least often) Koreans, Filipinos, etc.

4. U. S. Military are

US Military or MilPers

5. Vietnamese soldiers are

ARVN (Army of the Republic of VietNam)

6. All other Military are “Free World Forces”.

The FWF, of course, includes the US military in fact, but the distinction is generally made as above.

All this is purely ridiculous, of course, but that’s how it’s done and there is certainly nothing I can do about it!!

Presumably, I will go out to Long Binh tomorrow to begin work in earnest. We’ll see about that! I’m not yet certain whether they actually want to get the lab functioning, or whether they just want to dress it up a little and make it look like it’s functioning. I’m told they’ve hired—or at least requisitioned—a bacteriologist to work with me (I’m a Chemist, remember) but it’s anybody’s guess when he will arrive. The lab lacks the basic equipment to do either quantitative chemistry or bacteriology, so until we can solve the supply problem I’ll probably be sitting on my hands anyhow! As I’ve said before, c’est la guerre!!

Cheers to all,
Bruce

Worth mentioning here by way of background: PA&E was begun by one Thomas E. Spicknell, Retired Military, who had a lot of friends in the right places. Basically, he had a contract with the US Army to supply bodies (called personnel, of course) to do whatever the US Army wanted done that it didn’t want to bother doing itself. The contract was a “Cost +” contract: every expense that the Company could document was reimbursed with ten percent added. [I believe PA&E has “gone straight”, and now operates in many countries as a fairly legitimate engineering firm. But in VietNam, it was just a money-making scheme, and it made a lot of people quite rich. It is probably the model for the likes of Haliburton which operates in Iraq today.]

Essentially, every warm body PA&E could get into the country made money for the company on salary alone, and whatever items they needed to do their jobs—or for that matter, to exist—were imported and marked up as well. The system was rife with corruption, and many of the men (relatively few women) who came over were retired milpers just there to augment their retirement pay: it was understood they were not expected to do much useful work, and many did none at all.

Naturally, all these people lived off base, and most of them had Vietnamese girl-friends: a few married their women, but most did not. However, children were produced in some numbers. CA used to quip that for the next war, “we’d only have to send the uniforms.” The truth is that most of the half-breeds were later shunned by the Viets themselves: many were eventually re-patriated to the U.S. Only a very few were sent-for by their biological fathers.

Also by way of background, some discussion about money! Our salaries were paid directly to banks of our choice back in the States; our per-diem was paid locally in MPCs (Military Pay Certificates) or Local Currency (Vietnamese Dong). The Viets were not supposed to accept MPCs (although they did, since they had back-channel methods of redeeming them for Dong or for US Dollars). MPCs were really only useful at Military installations and the PX. Dong, of course, were universally accepted by the local populace for anything. US dollars, (referred to as “YouEss Green) though, were strictly forbidden, although of course there was a huge black market in them. Indeed, the black market was probably larger than the local economy! There was nothing that could not be had for a price, and anyone willing to pay in dollars was afforded the best rates. Many U.S. civilians would have dollars sent in by mail, which they would sell for MPCs, with which they would buy hooch and other items at the PX, then sell these items on the BM for Dong which they used to augment their fairly lavish off-base life-style. It was a mess, and now and then the Government would suddenly change the design of the MPCs in the hopes of catching-out speculators in them: but leaks always allowed the speculators to dump the old designs before they became worthless. It was a cat and mouse game the mouse always won!

Military Pay Certificates (MPCS

No MPCs were issued in denominations larger than one dollar: there were two reasons, one being that items at the PX and elsewhere were usually priced far below true value. The other reason was that the Vietnamese were not supposed to have these, so if they did, they would have to accumulate large piles of them to have any real value. It was not unusual to see someone carrying huge bundles of these!

All the costs of printing these and Dong were borne by the US Treasury, of course.

Dong were colorful: it was rare to find them in decent condition, however. Many of those I saved are still filthy dirty and look quite bad.

Vietnamese Dong

The per-diem we got was to be used for two purposes: to procure housing off-base, and to get money into the local economy. When I eventually took quarters in Saigon proper, the rent far exceeded my per-diem, so I was not able to save the $1000 per month I had hoped for, but I got close. Occasionally, I used Dong to entice the local boys, but usually they were sufficiently interested in me as a foreigner that money was not required.

I will continue my narrative on the next page, coming up soon.

By the time the next letter was written, I had managed to go out and procure a typewriter. This is facilitating transcribing my letters now, using OCR software. Most of the copies Dad kept were carbon-copies, though, so the images aren’t all that sharp; OCR is not perfect anyway, so some fairly heavy editing still is required. But it IS faster than key-entry.

The borrowed typewriter with its Vietnamese keyboard was difficult to use because the letters had been rearranged in accordance with their frequency of use, so frequently-used english letters were in the wrong place. There were also a number of letters which occur in Vietnamese, but not in english. (The Vietnamese language is akin to chinese, and for the most part is incomprehensible to westerners: the typical characters were replaced with a romanized alphabet by Missionaries a long time ago).

Saturday, 9 Mar 68

Dear Everyone,

As you will have guessed by the time you begin to read this, I have now gotten a typewriter! This one has a standard keyboard! After trying out the hazards of a Vietnamese typewriter, I couldn’t hack it, and decided to get one of my own. As you can see, I’m not altogether used to it. It’s an Ollivetti “Dora”, a small light portable, with an assortment of features, including halfline spacing, along with an arrangement coupled with the spacebar that allows one to type in an extra letter in case of an error; i. e., god and good here occupy the same space.

Having run nearly out of money, this morning I went out to CMO and arranged an advance on my salary of $250.00. That much, at least is safe from the Infernal Revenooers. Of this, I spent $75.00 on the typewriter, and $50.00 on a very nice all-band portable radio. In both cases, the prices are about half US., and I think very reasonable. I bought both on the “local economy”—our PX purchases are limited to $10.00 items max.

So you can all heave a small sigh of relief: the folks won’t have to Xerox my letters and remail them and Rob & Todd won’t be several days behind on my letters.

There’s really not too much to report. I haven’t had any letters for several days—heaven knows this is not unusual—so don’t have any answers to send along. Life is settling down into something of a routine, involving a very early (for me) arising around 6 AM and a quick cup of coffee, sometimes, and taking a cyclo at 7 over Phan-than-Gian St. to Hai-ba-trung Street, where I wait for the bus which goes to Long Binh. The trip out Hiway 1 usually turns out to be the most interesting thing all day! Then, at 5, we leave LB and reverse the process. When I get here, I must first, of course, take a bath (shower) to remove the layers of LB dust and grime. Then it’s dinner (usually here, because of the curfew), and usually a bull-session with someone, or a relaxing interlude alone on the verandah. Then, to bed fairly early, ready for the next day. It all goes quite quickly.

I just discovered that I goofed and didn’t put a sheet of paper between two carbons on this sheet, so somebody will have to get a Xerox of the first page, at least! Toi rat tiek (I’m very sorry).

You may not believe this—knowing my finickiness about eating—but I’ve actually had a number of Vietnamese meals since I got here, and have enjoyed them immensely. One of the local specialties is a sort of meat roll, made up of a very thin rice-flour tortilla, with heaven-knows-what inside. I’m told it is is best not to ask what the filling is, so I haven’t done so! There’s also a very good chinese soup that is made here, lots of noodles and things, with some meat and a few shrimps added for good measure. And last night, several of us ordered chicken curry, which turned out to be very good (quite mild on the curry) and very filling, what with both potatoes and rice included! Alas, I have not lost so much as a kilo, and won’t, If I keep eating like that!

We understand, unofficially, that the curfew is going to be lowered to 9 PM next Monday, which will enable us to get out a bit more in the evening and get some other meals. I don’t remember whether or not I mentioned that the hotel has lowered its prices materially or not—I’m now paying 500$ [dong] for a single room, per day, rather than the 600$ for a double paid previously. This is a shade over $4.20 per day ($130 per month), which is hard to beat in Saigon, considering the fact that it includes maid service, and considering the fact that the facilities are so good. Hence, I’m staying put for a while, as I mentioned before.

There are indications of some action at Long Binh. 24 hour power is presently being installed (it has been in the works for quite a long time and is just now being accomplished, despite the fact that 24 hr hi-tension lines go right past our compound). I have submitted the listings of the equipment items I must have, and there are indications they might actually be obtained. Meanwhile, not much is doing, and I double up with the operations department from time to time when they are short-staffed (which is always). I have in mind a good training program for the Vietnamese, to be implemented as soon as the lab is functioning. This is a big thing with the Govt and the army now, and so it will win a lot of points if I can bring it off. But it’s a long ways off, unless I miss my guess about how fast the army can move on a project such as mine.

The electricity here tonight is currently (you’ll pardon the pun) going through a series of gyrations, so I think I’ll go play with the radio a while, and finish this up tomorrow.

Sunday AM

How curious! Most of the programs on the radio are in foreign languages. However, Radio Hanoi spews forth a constant stream of messages to “American Service Men fighting the unholy war in Vietnam”, and Radio Peking spews forth a constant barage of quotations from Chairman Mao Tse Tung. In both cases, the female voices used almost exclusively have a familiar ring and resemble closely the voice of Radio Moscow.

Hanoi repeats endlessly all the UPI and other descriptions of the draft-dodgers, burners, etc all over the world. Some of it is undoubtedly true, some of it embellished, and some false. The same thing happens here: at one point last night, I had Hanoi on the radio, while a plane was flying by overhead sending propaganda messages down via sound-powered microphone! And, when Hanoi broadcasts messages (allegedly in the voices of) from the group of US boys who recently defected in Japan, one has to realise that Radio Sgn is simultaneously broadcasting statements by captured or defected VC. One only wishes that the entire war could be waged thus, through words, instead of the way it is: the outcome is likely to be the same, either way.

Today’s Saigon paper carries an excellent (if heavily censored) article criticizing the American way of making war in this country. There’s a lot of truth in what is said. In essence, it points out how unprepared for fighting a defensive war our machine is. The other article enclosed is for information—although you may find it a bit alarming, it is not sent with that in mind. This only Premiere Ky’s view, and may not be correct. In any event, our security (as americans) is not any less than before, and most of us with sense enuf to stay out of trouble have quite successfully avoided it.

I’m going to set out now for the PX: there are a few items I want to pick up, and the concierge wants a few rolls of film. I will continue (finish) this letter later.

Later

That was a waste of time! I wanted some chewing-gum and a fly-swatter, and they had neither. Despite scads of color film, they had no B&W that Sao wanted. The place was swamped, and the air-conditioning was off, so it was sweltering as well. I stayed long enuf to get a spare set of batteries for the radio, then came right back, after stopping at the snack-bar for what (for want of an appropriate name) was called a milkshake. In a few minutes I shall go up and have a sandwich of some sort. Sometime this afternoon an aquaintance here is supposed to take me along on a short visit with a VN family with whom he’s been acquainted for some years. One of the daughters teaches for VAA., so I should get some information about that, and of course it will be a chance to meet some nice people.

So, for the moment I will close. Please supply the missing page 1 for Todd, and send this on to him: full copies went to Folks and Rob directly.

Love to all
Bruce

Street stall in Saigon, 1968

Clowning around at a street stall: I’m offering the photographer a pair of dark glasses.Most of what’s on the table came more-or-less directly from the PX: much of it is Military Issue. Directly behind me is a cyclo, probably the one I rode in to reach this spot, and it is likely the photograph was taken by the driver. I’m sorry the photo is light-struck—thems the breaks! I was most likely actually shopping for temporary replacements for glasses I had dropped and broken: see below.

14 March 1968

Dear Everyone~

I’m going to start this letter tonight, and probably finish it tomorrow. I got a long letter from Todd a couple of days ago, and Dad’s letter of 5-6 March at the same time.

Before I forget (which I have in several previous letters), I recall your mentioning your foster-child’s name in one early letter: apparently, that one got lost in the shuffle between hotels, because I have reread everything I have and can’t locate the reference. Please repeat, with all available information. Have you had any word from him since the Tet offensive? There might be something I could do. . .

The radio has turned out to be a very wise investment. I’m still locating stations and the times they broadcast useful info (that rules out most of Peking’s programs!), and more particularly, music. Oddly, some of the best music is coming from what appears to be either India or Pakistan—and the reception is pretty good in the evening. V 0 A and A F R T S, sharing the Manilla transmitter, get out much more comprehensive world news than does heavily censored AFVN.

The curfews have been extended from the former hours of 0700 to 1900, to 0600 to 2000 hrs. This enables us to put in an actual 8½ hour day. Leaving the hotel at 6:30 and returning about 18:00 makes it a long day, though. The other two hours are consumed, of course, by the bus-ride. These still are the most interesting parts of the day. The bus route I now take, which picks me up and drops me just a block away from the door, goes all over robinhood’s barn in the process (specifically, through the sections of town known as Go Vap, Gia Dinh, and Bay Hien, if you have gotten a map…), so there is always a lot to see.

Traffic on Hiway 1 is pretty much back to normal—it staggers the mind. The average is 21 dead each week in accidents. It is the sort of traffic that would bring an average US freeway to a stand-still, yet somehow it moves at breakneck speeds in spite of all but the worst pileups. There aren’t many bicycles (because of the distance and a few long hills), but POV (power operated vehicles) of every other description are found by the thousands, and it all ranges on up to the largest US Army equipment. Yesterday there were five more-or-less wrecked vehicles noticed on the way in; today, one accident involving two people on a motorbike that was a bit grisly (though they weren’t killed).

No word yet, of course, from the IRS. I’ve followed up my original letter with three other reminders of my desire for action on their part, and threatening a couple of other moves I’ve been told of if they don’t get off the pot: we’ll see if anything comes of it. Actually, if they don’t move right away, I intend to drop the matter, and let the sum they have earn 6% for ME until such time as I feel like coming back in person to claim it. That will in a small way offset the loss all that money I had to pay them represents. Once I get a paycheck here and get my bank-account back in operation, having over 300 bucks “on deposit” with IRS won’t make any real difference.

A couple of weeks ago, I dropped my dark glasses and broke the right lens into two pieces. I immediately ordered a new one from SF, and epoxyed the broken one back together as a stop-gap. The new lens came today. But YESTERDAY, I dropped them again and shattered both lenses. So now, I’m short the left one! I’ve ordered that one, and when it comes, I will begin carrying the case. . .

Unexpectedly, we had an inspection by a US Army Team today. I gave them the whole ugly story of what the lab amounts to, and what my problems are. However, in the exit report, nothing whatever was said about it. Apparently Dandy Dan Smythe talked them into dropping it until the next inspection, on the premise that something will have happened by then. I think it’s unlikely that anything will, but in fairness to him, I have to admit that I had only yesterday turned in my “program” to him, and there has been no time for him to act upon it. The ball is in his hands now. It seems likely he will be leaving around 22 April: in that case, Long Binh will see a celebration that ought to make Tet look puny. But the liklihood is that Smythe will leave the lab as a thorn for his successor to grapple with. Meanwihile, I may volunteer to operate a water point or some such thing, as we are desperately short at the moment in that department, and it should at least give me something more to do than I can accomplish under the present setup. The wheels of the US Army grind exceeding slow!

0530 arrives early tomorrow—so it’s beddy-byes now until tomorrow, when perhaps I shall have heard from someone, and can add answers to anything I receive.

15 March 1968

No letters today, but lots of action at Long Binh: Dandy Dan went on a rampage of personnel “actions” (i. e., position shifts) as a result of the inspection yesterday. Looks like I’ll have a new boss, for the second time in less than a month! It really makes no difference to me—nothing is happening anyhow. He may have a near mutiny on his hands tomorrow, since no one thinks for a moment that his actions have improved anything. God—what a stupendous mess he has made of things!

The weather has grown steadily warmer since my arrival, and now ranges from 35 to 40 C, depending on whether or not one has any shade. It is surprisingly dry, but this will change when the monsoons hit in mid-May.

The news today is all about [Senator Joseph] McCarthy’s performance in New Hamp, and the probability of Bobby throwing his hat in at last. This, I fear, could possibly throw a lot of weight to Nixon which would be pretty bad. It is amazing, how much control Moscow has over the next US election: they could assure Johnson’s win by getting Ho Chi Minh to the bargaining table (which they could assure by a simple withdrawal of support), or they might well assure Johnson’s defeat by a reverse process. One has to give Moscow a lot of credit for playing it cool: they’ve created chaos all over the world without ever having fielded a man.

There is a lot of talk in the news also about the gold problem. Whenever I hear of this, I think of HMT’s [Henry Moore Teller, first Senator from Colorado] predictions, way back in 1896: it looks as if he may yet prove to have been a true prophet. And while Johnson talks out of one side of his mouth about the dollar drain, and its impact on the “chronic unemployment problem”, out of the other he continues a policy of pouring millions down endless ratholes here. There are, for instance, about 5000 “third country nationals” here, nearly all Korean and Phillipinos. Their base pay hovers around 500 US dollars, plus living allowance of $175. With the kind of overtime nearly all of them show (whether actually worked or not), few of them send home (their home) less than $1000 each month. Virtually all that money goes out of the US. Its purchasing power in Korea is such as to make equivalent millionaires out of most of these people.

Now, the rationale for their existance here (besides the nonsense about being part of the Free World Forces), is that they are performing essential services that the Vietnamese can’t do. Vietnamese are not allowed to operate any water points, nor any generators on military bases, because no one can be sure they aren’t VC, and won’t either a) sabatoge their installation at a critical moment or b) disappear if they come under attack by VC.

If one accepts these criteria (and a whole lot of sensible arguments could be lodged against doing so), the question is, why not replace those 5000 people with American “hardcore unemployed”, thereby keeping most of their pay in the US, and employing them, and teaching them a trade as well? A policy like this could reduce the dollar outflow by at least $100 Million each month (taking into account PX privileges and other benefits extended to TCNS). At any rate, I am in complete agreement with—is it [Senator] Mills?—whoever it is that is kaboshing Johnson’s continuous pleas for a tax hike, and insisting on cuts in spending instead. A time has come—long past, in fact,—when our policies of backing the dollar with production and lavish giveaways have got to be drastically cut back: the shakiness of gold on the world market attests, I think, to worldwide doubts that we will take anything more than a cursory look at the policies that have nearly ruined us before we plunge on towards what seems to be our ultimate goal—WWIII—which will be the only way we can create enough demand for our excess output.

Bedtime has rolled around once again, so on that cheery note I will close and get these into the mail tomorrow: with luck you’ll get them (your) Monday next.

Love to all~
Bruce

How about that last line: “. . . our ultimate goal—WWIII—which will be the only way we can create enough demand for our excess output.” Fortunately, I’ve lived long enough to see that prediction go down the drain, but it has meant that our “excess production” has been shipped off to China, our production capacity along with it. When WWIII does come we could well end up having to buy our warships from China, in order to have ships with which to fight—China! Oh, my!

Anyway, by this time we were able to get around well enough that some documents were issued: most of these were delayed by the Offensive and curfews. Here is my SOOM card:

SOOM Card

This got me into any open Officers’ Mess in the country. The food in most of the BOQs was quite good: food in the messes on LB Post varied greatly from terrific to gawd-awful!

Here’s my Identity card:

My Identity Card

Except for the few items typed in, I have NO idea what most of it says!
More in the days ahead: stay tuned!