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A NEW FRESH START
Season X
Final Episode
THIS IS THE END
Please excuse the phonetic spellings in this manuscript. Still readable while synthetic voice more accurately pronounces words.
Playku, Foo Bye and Way
Oh My!
Sunday, January 29, 1968
Saigon, Vietnam
Le’ Amiral Restaurant
My latest escapade selling bar supplies to Sargent Meyers, the man in charge of Pleiku’s B.O.Q, had ended well. Sarge was a happy camper. He’d gotten a couple of TOYOTA pickup trucks that he could use as his personal transportation along with boxes of napkins, silverware, assorted plates and glasses, swivel sticks, wine bottle openers, and other assorted goodies. I was happy too. after just three days in Pleiku, I’d befriended Sarge, got drunk with a General and a Colonel, met one of my favorite comedians, Martha Ray, and sold a bunch of stuff. Now my priority was to fly back to our Saigon office to exchange the Army’s $10,000 purchase order for a $1.000 commission check, that would be issued to me from the company’s Credit-Suisse Bank account.
I landed at Tan Son Nhut Air Force Base early afternoon and took a cab directly to downtown Saigon and the bar sales company I worked for.
it’s bar sales company’s one-room office in the “Tto midtown Saigon and the Star Hotel on Tu-do surrounded by ‘Tea’ bars., got settled in, washed up, and then walked the two blocks to my favorite hangout and French restaurant, Le’ Amiral, arriving just in time for happy hour.
My first priority was to get paid for selling bar supplies. Before I left Pleiku I called the Saigon office with a heads-up about the content of the signed Purchase Order issued by the Army’s logistic division.
Then, I arrived at the small office in the “Tax Center” which had nothing to do with ‘tax’ and everything to do with shopping. The three-story building was a rudimentary multilevel shopping center made with many small stores and offices. I gave the P.O. to the office staff for processing and they issued me an official check in U.S. dollars from their Credit Suisse bank account. I, in turn, endorsed the check, and give it to the Indian money man who gave me Vietnamese Piasters at black market exchange rates that waws triple the official exchange rate … meaning I got 3 times the amount in Piasters and was a happy camper.
A brown paper bag filled to the brim with high denomination bundled and wrapped Vietnamese Piastra bank notes.
Saigon’s grapevine was miraculous.
Ron’s running late, and this evening’s meeting is crucial!
Vien deftly replaced my spent glass with a fresh Gin & Tonic over ice.
I sat impatiently, my right leg nervously bouncing up and down, and finished my first Gin & Tonic as I waited for Ron at Le’ Amiral’s long polished mahogany bar looking across at myself reflected in the mirror that covered the restaurant bar’s entire back wall.
I admired the row of liquor-filled bottles on the counter in front of the mirror when my reflection was briefly interrupted as Vien deftly replaced my spent glass with a fresh Gin & tonic over ice. I took a long slow sip of the slow gin, lit a Salem, and gave myself permission to relax.
Looking at the mirror I could easily see the entrance door and most of the restaurant behind me. and I lit up a Salem, relaxed, took another sip, and waited.
After three years in Vietnam and having lived through some very life-threatening close calls. I’m always, subconsciously, trying to note everything that goes on around me, and the mirror comforted me. I believed in divine providence and it was my hypochondria and this was especially true in restaurants, and my choice of always sitting with my back to a wall with my eyes towards the door, seating arrangements with a view to the door, that had kept me alive … so far.
Vien returned and discretely slid a small bowl of mixed nuts and match-stick pretzels onto the counter and I glanced at my watch. ‘6:22, already twenty minutes late. Where the hell is he? …’ Suddenly the wood-framed glass front door swung open and …
“Hey, Davey!”
It was Ron making his grand entrance as always. Ron was a magical, one-of-a-kind human being, and he was an oxymoron all wrapped up in an enigmatic … Stop! Ron’s presence, (same for Ed later) Jovial round Russian peasant face – bigger than life – a free-spirited mischievous young man – with a disarmingly high I.Q.
“Ron, you son of a bitch thanks for making it. I was starting to worry. So, where’s Ed?”
“Couldn’t make it.” Ron did a quick eyebrow flash and smiled. “Woman problems, or obligations. But, not to worry, I’ve got everything you’ll need right here.” He laid a tan manila folder down on a table set for two, and I moved over and joined him at the small table with a drink in hand.
Ron walked in, all smiles with a closed manilla folder in his hand all smiles, and a little tipsy which was par for the course. The evening was young, and things would develop…
Hey Ron man, what’ll it be … it’s on me.
Ron, the brilliant Russian peasant he was said “Make that a double shot of vodka on the rocks. Got to celebrate, and this is just the ticket.”
We sat across from each other, clinked glasses, and toasted to this crazy world.
So, Ron, it looks like you’ve got the paperwork.
Right here, Davey. He put a small paper-clipped stack of papers on the table and starting with the official coversheet, handing each page, in turn, over to me.
Here are your travel authorization papers. Just show them your ID
Also, here’s a map and directions to the military side of the airport.
Maybe I should just tell the story first beginning at the beginning of this.
Here, Goes!
Hue Vietnam
January 31, 1968 – Late afternoon,
Here I am at Hue Vietnam’s Cercle Sportif on January 31, 1968 (27 years old.) No, I’m not really smirking. |
This is what the decrepit Cercle Sportif building in Hue looked like in this photo taken in 2021. By the way, that’s the Perfume River flowing past the club. |
Equipment Room at Phu Bai
A corrugated steel building prone to lots of shrapnel if hit
Meeting the Guys
Overlooking the Perfume River
The Circle Sportif Patio
French tennis club with restaurant & bar
Jim Hinton – Site Supervisor, Randy Biggs – My Room Mate, Boris – The Russian, Doc Hanes – The Rosecrusian, and Sitimo the Eskimow are all here but Jim Foxhole Wilson (a.k.a “Foxhole”) is on duty back at the site.