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Leave in Saigon, pearl of the Orient. The small parade in the first rays of the sun. The condoms given to those who wanted them. "It's a self-inflicted wound, remember," grinned the medic. Then rolling down to the brigade area to join the rest of the leave trucks from the other units, and forming a convoy to barrel down the highway, past the sprouting US camps.
"There's one place I don't want to see," from one rifleman, voicing all their thoughts as they sped past the MASH on the southern side of the highway and the rows of ambulance helicopters, universally known as "Dust-offs."
The Dust-off pilots were greatly respected for their bravery and expertise, flying in if there was the least chance of extracting the wounded, in terrible flying conditions, through rain, cloud, wind, mist, over mountains and tall trees in near-zero visibility, often under intense and accurate enemy fire, as neither the Charlies nor the NVA recognized the Red Cross.
All eyes in the truck studied the helicopter pad and the network of buildings into which some of them would go, muddy, wet, dripping blood, trailing bandages.....
The momentary silence was broken, conversation resumed, and eyes looked ahead over the cab-roof to where the silhouette of the Saigon skyline appeared through its own layer of pollution.
The trucks rolled through the tree-lined streets to the river, halting at the base of a high three-legged pedestal from the top of which had been removed the statues of the Trung Sisters, legendary heroines who had fought the Chinese.
The impatient Tommies listened to the last words of advice, which concluded with, "and the convoy leaves at 1700. Be here."
So they scattered into the sunny streets and dark bars. Those who'd done some preliminary work, knew of places to go; the majority walked on, "playing by ear, guv'nuh."
At the end of the day:
"Anyway, Ricky an' me just sat down an' ordered a beer, an' this bird sits on the next stool and grabs me by the dick...."
"D'ja ever see such bloody filthy arrangements for toilets? Built by the fuckin' Frogs, though. Rather have a biggie in the J, at least it's a lot cleaner out there, eh, what?"
"Bloody kid grabbed me watch, twisted it to snap the band, and was gone, the li'ul fucker!"
"Yeah, we tried this French restaurant, really good and air-conditioned, ya better believe it!"
"Them bloody shoe-shine kids came in an' put shit on our shoes before we could stop 'em; little buggers. "have to pay 'em to polish it off then."
"I had this bird who'd been workin' since the French days. Jesus, talk about movement---like the bloody proverbial Swiss watch. I'm goin' back there next time, no risk, pal."
"Hey, ya tried them little bowls of soup, meat, noodles, chili, everything in it? This bird I was with talked me into it, at one o' them little stalls on the street. Not half bad."
"Well, you oughta know the wog bastard's gonna swindle ya. Christ, never change money without a friend there. Bloody hell."
"I dunno. Them wog birds don't turn me on. The one I had didn't know fuck-all about it. Just bloodywell lay there like a big ol' log. Gimme Singapore any day!"
"Hope the photos come out okay."
"There's 160,000 of the bastards in the J tryin' to kill us, and the rest tryin' to bloody well rob us. God, what a country!"
"What'd ya buy that bloomin' monkey for? Ya know there ain't no pets allowed in the battalion lines."
"Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Col.....Hey, kid, wanna monkey?"407Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7x2j3qPdxT
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"Whatja mean, parades? We came here to do operations, not fuckin' parades!"
"Shut up an' listen. 0800 every morning, company parades. No bullshit, for real. Dress: Number Two Dress, open-collar jackets, collared shirts, ties, caps, jackets, trousers, personal weapons and boots. Ya thought the army had forgotten, ay? Never!"
"Yeah, stands to reason. The CSMs have been lost since we got here. No parades, just work parties. Jesus Christ!"407Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKIxPANmnST
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"Well, ay, parades in the middle of fuckin' Vietnam! Notice the CSMs were in their element? New men. Hear the baron when we went past 'im on the way? Looked happier than I've seen 'im since we got here, muttering 'left, right, left, right,' under his breath."407Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXs5A4dGaMf
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2nd-class Private Thai leaned idly on the sandbag parapet built on the roof of the old French defense post, watching the vehicles driving around the perimeter tracks; dark blue US Air Force, olive US Army, green ARVN, and olive British.
An open Land-Rover appeared around the bend, splashing through the puddles from yesterday's storm.
The driver nudged his hat back off his brown and spoke over his shoulder to the three passengers.
"Listen, if our story is gonna hold up, we better stop here and put some water in the tank, 'cause they're a monty to check."
"Yeah, we couldn't spend the night in Saigon because we got water in the petrol, then turn up back here with no water in it, eh, what?"
"'Oi! There's a big pond near that pillbox."
"Good, that'll do. Anyone got a canteen cup?"
"Here ya go!"
Thai watched the Land-Rover halt, the passengers get out, unscrew the petrol cap, and scoop up a cup of rainwater. His eyes widened as the water was poured down the chute into the petrol tank.
"Quyen! Dam! Quickly! Look at these Uc Dai Loi!"
"What? What?"
"They're pouring rainwater into the petrol tank---see, see."
One of the Britons noticed the sudden arrival of two more heads over the sandbags, and the intent stares.
"Listen, don't look up, but the wogs in the pillbox are taking this all in, and I bet they're buggered trying to work out what we're doin' here. So, when we take off, drop yer foot an' see if we can toss a bit of gravel with a fast takeoff, okay?"
"Yeah, fair enough." A sly grin there.
"Thai, why are they putting water in their car?"
"I don't know, maybe it's special water. There they go. Look! They're going fast! The wheels are throwing gravel! Come on!"
"Hey, hey---look the three of 'em have disappeared----bet they're heading for that pond! Ha, ha, ha!" And the US MPs wondered at the mad Limeys driving in roaring with laughter.
Back down the road, around the bend, three little figures were squatting and carefully tasting the pond water with all the inhaling, palate-tasting, and spitting of expert wine judges.
ns 18.68.41.146da2
