In Saigon, I worked in MACV headquarters as a Lieutenant. My boss was an Army Major and his boss was a Marine Lt. Colonel. Along with others of their grade, they spent almost every evening drinking themselves into a stupor in the officers club .
The Lt. Colonel had extremely short hair and made of point of telling me I needed a haircut whenever he happened to see me. Sometimes he would vary the message by informing me that my sideburns were too long or perhaps castigating me for the vile offense of having my hands in my pockets.
I wasted no time getting around to exploring Saigon and quickly became known as the go-to guy for trips downtown. After several months, the Lt. Colonel approached me and asked if I could show him around downtown Saigon sometime.
I said, "I'm sorry sir, but the Vietnamese just don't have much use for guys with really short hair. Why don't you get back to me after you've let your hair grow out a bit."
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Management
After I completed Officers Candidate School, I was commissioned as an intelligence officer in the Army. Serving as a lieutenant was the only time I've ever had a job that qualified as a management position.
In Vietnam, I worked in the top secret area of the Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV). It was a mini-Pentagon that had the command structure of all branches in one place. My group generated background intelligence summaries on Cambodia and Laos to support the real-time briefings.
The six sharp guys that made up my team did some really good work. Whenever a general or colonel came down to thank me for something we'd done, I always deferred to those who did the work. I would say something like, "Jim and Evan did the heavy lifting on that, they're the ones you should talk to." I gave the credit to my team when things went right and took full responsibility if there was any kind of problem.
The Army has a well-know saying, "Shit rolls down hill." This refers to the standard practice of passing the blame on to those below you when things go wrong.
I had a special name plate made for my desk at MACV. Below my name it read, "Shit rolls down hill until it gets to me."
In Vietnam, I worked in the top secret area of the Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV). It was a mini-Pentagon that had the command structure of all branches in one place. My group generated background intelligence summaries on Cambodia and Laos to support the real-time briefings.
The six sharp guys that made up my team did some really good work. Whenever a general or colonel came down to thank me for something we'd done, I always deferred to those who did the work. I would say something like, "Jim and Evan did the heavy lifting on that, they're the ones you should talk to." I gave the credit to my team when things went right and took full responsibility if there was any kind of problem.
The Army has a well-know saying, "Shit rolls down hill." This refers to the standard practice of passing the blame on to those below you when things go wrong.
I had a special name plate made for my desk at MACV. Below my name it read, "Shit rolls down hill until it gets to me."
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Recycled Coffee
I pulled my truck into a gritty industrial area of Chicago one morning to deliver a load from California. It was 5am when I got there and the warehouse didn't open until 6am.
The old gray building across the street had a small cafe in one corner with a faded sign on its dingy window that read "Coffee Shop". I went in and sat at the counter under a fluorescent light that was flickering and buzzing its death throes.
Four people were scattered around at separate tables, hunched over their coffee. Near me at the counter was a gnarly old guy wearing dirty bib overalls and a faded striped engineers cap. The whole place had an eerie colorless look that would have fit right into a Stephen King novel.
The middle-aged waitress with a jaded, almost surly demeanor, asked me what I wanted. I said, "Just coffee, please."
She poured me a cup of coffee from the pot behind the counter and put the grimy cup in front of me. While I was deciding whether or not to drink out of it, the old guy next to me got up and left.
The waitress came over, picked up his half-empty cup, and poured what was left into the same pot that my coffee had come from.
I decided I could do without coffee that morning.
The old gray building across the street had a small cafe in one corner with a faded sign on its dingy window that read "Coffee Shop". I went in and sat at the counter under a fluorescent light that was flickering and buzzing its death throes.
Four people were scattered around at separate tables, hunched over their coffee. Near me at the counter was a gnarly old guy wearing dirty bib overalls and a faded striped engineers cap. The whole place had an eerie colorless look that would have fit right into a Stephen King novel.
The middle-aged waitress with a jaded, almost surly demeanor, asked me what I wanted. I said, "Just coffee, please."
She poured me a cup of coffee from the pot behind the counter and put the grimy cup in front of me. While I was deciding whether or not to drink out of it, the old guy next to me got up and left.
The waitress came over, picked up his half-empty cup, and poured what was left into the same pot that my coffee had come from.
I decided I could do without coffee that morning.
Monday, July 4, 2016
Straight Line
When I was 5 years old, we lived in Dillon Montana. One morning I woke up to find a blanket of new snow covering our yard. As soon as I finished breakfast, I put on my Montana gear and went outside to play.
After I had been outside for about an hour, my mother came out to check on me. I guess I must have looked frustrated because she asked, "What's wrong?"
"I'm trying to make a straight line in the snow. I keep putting one foot in front of the other, but my line keeps getting crooked."
"If you want to make a straight line, then don't look down at your feet. Look at something like that tree over there and walk toward it."
She was right. Much to my amazement, I created a line in the snow that went straight to the tree. I don't remember much from when I was 5 years old, but I remember that lesson very clearly.
After I had been outside for about an hour, my mother came out to check on me. I guess I must have looked frustrated because she asked, "What's wrong?"
"I'm trying to make a straight line in the snow. I keep putting one foot in front of the other, but my line keeps getting crooked."
"If you want to make a straight line, then don't look down at your feet. Look at something like that tree over there and walk toward it."
She was right. Much to my amazement, I created a line in the snow that went straight to the tree. I don't remember much from when I was 5 years old, but I remember that lesson very clearly.
Monday, June 6, 2016
The Crossroads
I made a point of avoiding main roads when traveling on my Triumph. Early one morning, I came to a crossroads while riding through rural North Carolina. I pulled off the road and stopped to consider which of the choices to take.
I hadn't been there long when a farmer and his wife came by in their pickup. They stopped beside me and the farmer's wife asked, "Do you need any help?" I said, "No thanks, I'm just sitting here enjoying the sunrise and trying to decide which way to go."
Her face took on a wistful look and then she said, "I'm sure you'll enjoy whichever road you choose."
I hadn't been there long when a farmer and his wife came by in their pickup. They stopped beside me and the farmer's wife asked, "Do you need any help?" I said, "No thanks, I'm just sitting here enjoying the sunrise and trying to decide which way to go."
Her face took on a wistful look and then she said, "I'm sure you'll enjoy whichever road you choose."
Monday, May 16, 2016
Flying Hill
My wife, Lan, loves to play blackjack. When we first started going to Reno, she had yet to learn how to count cards and would usually play until the money she brought with her was gone. She often ended up in marathon sessions with very little sleep.
On our way home from one of these Reno trips, Lan was really tired and spent most of the time sleeping in the car. She happened to wake up just as we started up the Altamont pass towards Livermore. It was a windy afternoon and almost all of the turbines on the huge Altamont wind farm were spinning furiously.
She looked out the window for a minute and then said, "I don't care how many airplane engines they put on that hill, it isn't going to fly."
On our way home from one of these Reno trips, Lan was really tired and spent most of the time sleeping in the car. She happened to wake up just as we started up the Altamont pass towards Livermore. It was a windy afternoon and almost all of the turbines on the huge Altamont wind farm were spinning furiously.
She looked out the window for a minute and then said, "I don't care how many airplane engines they put on that hill, it isn't going to fly."
Wedding Vows
When Lan and I decided to get married, we opted to keep it simple and cheap. After our blood test results came back, we went to the court house and paid $5 for our license.
Once we had our license, we waited upstairs in the judge's antechamber for him to perform our marriage ceremony. He came out about 4:30pm and said, "I have to listen to losers and their lawyers all day, so I like to perform a few marriages before I go home. It puts me in a much better mood."
When the judge got to the part where he asked Lan to say I do, she started to laugh. As we were leaving the court house I asked her why she laughed when the judge asked her to say I do. She said, "The judge asked if I do, but I did already."
In Vietnamese, du translates to fuck.
Once we had our license, we waited upstairs in the judge's antechamber for him to perform our marriage ceremony. He came out about 4:30pm and said, "I have to listen to losers and their lawyers all day, so I like to perform a few marriages before I go home. It puts me in a much better mood."
When the judge got to the part where he asked Lan to say I do, she started to laugh. As we were leaving the court house I asked her why she laughed when the judge asked her to say I do. She said, "The judge asked if I do, but I did already."
In Vietnamese, du translates to fuck.
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
The Rainbow
I was headed east on Interstate 40 in Arizona just before sunset. A huge thunderstorm was gathering strength in front of me, and behind me the sun was about to dip below the horizon.
The setting sun was bouncing gorgeous shades of gold off the rocky cliffs that lined both sides of the the highway. Suddenly, a vivid, full spectrum rainbow appeared painted against the black eastern sky. Its ends seemed to be anchored in the illuminated cliffs.
I pulled off the freeway to stop and take it all in. Within minutes, cars were stopping on both sides of the freeway. People got out of their cars to take pictures, show their kids, and just marvel at the spectacle.
It was the Arizona desert at its most magnificent!
The setting sun was bouncing gorgeous shades of gold off the rocky cliffs that lined both sides of the the highway. Suddenly, a vivid, full spectrum rainbow appeared painted against the black eastern sky. Its ends seemed to be anchored in the illuminated cliffs.
I pulled off the freeway to stop and take it all in. Within minutes, cars were stopping on both sides of the freeway. People got out of their cars to take pictures, show their kids, and just marvel at the spectacle.
It was the Arizona desert at its most magnificent!
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
New Years Eve
About half-way through Officers Candidate School I received a 2 week pass for the Christmas holiday. I took a Trailways bus back to Nebraska and spent Christmas with my parents in Aurora. On Dec 29 I boarded the bus for the 3 day trip back to Ft. Belvoir, Va.
Angela got on at the Chicago stop and sat down next to me. She was returning to Washington D.C. after spending Christmas with her sister. Angela was an attractive young woman with a great sense of humor and a quick wit. We had a lot of fun traveling together.
We were crossing Pennsylvania on December 31st when we realized that it was almost midnight. Most people traveling by bus on New Years Eve are not among those who have been dealt the high cards in life. Angela and I decided that the new year should be celebrated even if we were only passengers on a bus.
At the stroke of midnight, we went up to the front of the bus and wished everyone a happy new year. I kissed Angela and then we started down the aisle.
She kissed every guy traveling alone and wished each one a happy new year. I did the same for each of the women traveling alone. The handful of couples traveling together kissed and wished each other a happy new year.
By the time we got to the back of the bus, everyone was laughing and exchanging new years greetings. Bottles of booze mysteriously appeared and were passed around along with all sorts of cookies and chips.
Somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania, 40 strangers became 40 friends celebrating the new year together.
Angela got on at the Chicago stop and sat down next to me. She was returning to Washington D.C. after spending Christmas with her sister. Angela was an attractive young woman with a great sense of humor and a quick wit. We had a lot of fun traveling together.
We were crossing Pennsylvania on December 31st when we realized that it was almost midnight. Most people traveling by bus on New Years Eve are not among those who have been dealt the high cards in life. Angela and I decided that the new year should be celebrated even if we were only passengers on a bus.
At the stroke of midnight, we went up to the front of the bus and wished everyone a happy new year. I kissed Angela and then we started down the aisle.
She kissed every guy traveling alone and wished each one a happy new year. I did the same for each of the women traveling alone. The handful of couples traveling together kissed and wished each other a happy new year.
By the time we got to the back of the bus, everyone was laughing and exchanging new years greetings. Bottles of booze mysteriously appeared and were passed around along with all sorts of cookies and chips.
Somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania, 40 strangers became 40 friends celebrating the new year together.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Book Covers
When I was in high school I was an avid reader of Mad magazine. One month Mad included tear-out book covers with seemingly sensational titles to cover otherwise boring books.
One of the fake covers had "Sex and Love" in large text and in tiny text at the bottom it read, "and 10,000 other words are included in this abridged dictionary." Another book cover had "Lolita" in huge text with a picture of an attractive young girl below it. At the bottom in tiny text it read, "is not the title of this boring book."
I applied "Sex and Love" to a copy of "King Lear" and "Lolita" to a copy of "A Tale of Two Cities". The next day I took both books to school with diabolical intentions in mind.
When I went to my study hall class, I sat down in front. The teacher, Mrs. Eckland, was also the Home Economics teacher and a well-known guardian of student morals. I gave her a few minutes to get settled and then I picked up "Sex and Love". She looked over at me, stormed over to my desk, and grabbed the book.
She barely had time to get settled in her chair again when I popped up "Lolita". She came unglued! She marched over to my desk and grabbed "Lolita" out of my hands. She went back to her desk, picked up "Sex and Love", and took the books and me to the principal's office.
Here she launched into a shrill rant about what a horrible degenerate I was reading such filth right there in the classroom. When she finally calmed down a bit, I picked up "Sex and Love", turned to the title page, and pointed out that the book was actually "King Lear". I then showed that "Lolita" was actually "A Tale of Two Cities".
I said, "I realize that King Lear is a bit controversial in some circles and A Tale of Two Cities is just plain depressing, but I don't think reading either of them merits this level of opprobrium. As a matter of fact, in English class last year, both of these books were required reading."
I turned to Mrs. Eckland and said, "I think there's a lesson we can all learn from this. Perhaps it's true that we shouldn't judge a book by its cover."
The principal, Mr. Frerichs, said, "Mrs. Eckland, why don't you go back to your class and I'll take care of this." When she was safely out of earshot, he shut the door and burst out laughing! He said, "Dave, as principal I should be telling you that you shouldn't do things like that. It's disruptive to the class etc, etc, but I have to admit it was pretty damn funny!"
One of the fake covers had "Sex and Love" in large text and in tiny text at the bottom it read, "and 10,000 other words are included in this abridged dictionary." Another book cover had "Lolita" in huge text with a picture of an attractive young girl below it. At the bottom in tiny text it read, "is not the title of this boring book."
I applied "Sex and Love" to a copy of "King Lear" and "Lolita" to a copy of "A Tale of Two Cities". The next day I took both books to school with diabolical intentions in mind.
When I went to my study hall class, I sat down in front. The teacher, Mrs. Eckland, was also the Home Economics teacher and a well-known guardian of student morals. I gave her a few minutes to get settled and then I picked up "Sex and Love". She looked over at me, stormed over to my desk, and grabbed the book.
She barely had time to get settled in her chair again when I popped up "Lolita". She came unglued! She marched over to my desk and grabbed "Lolita" out of my hands. She went back to her desk, picked up "Sex and Love", and took the books and me to the principal's office.
Here she launched into a shrill rant about what a horrible degenerate I was reading such filth right there in the classroom. When she finally calmed down a bit, I picked up "Sex and Love", turned to the title page, and pointed out that the book was actually "King Lear". I then showed that "Lolita" was actually "A Tale of Two Cities".
I said, "I realize that King Lear is a bit controversial in some circles and A Tale of Two Cities is just plain depressing, but I don't think reading either of them merits this level of opprobrium. As a matter of fact, in English class last year, both of these books were required reading."
I turned to Mrs. Eckland and said, "I think there's a lesson we can all learn from this. Perhaps it's true that we shouldn't judge a book by its cover."
The principal, Mr. Frerichs, said, "Mrs. Eckland, why don't you go back to your class and I'll take care of this." When she was safely out of earshot, he shut the door and burst out laughing! He said, "Dave, as principal I should be telling you that you shouldn't do things like that. It's disruptive to the class etc, etc, but I have to admit it was pretty damn funny!"
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