Donut Dolly: An American Red Cross Girl's War in Vietnam

Chapter 2 A Blacked-Out Runway

25 ✚ Chapter 2 ✚ A Blacked-Out Runway Friday, May 6, 1966, Tan Son Nhut Air Base, South Vietnam Mini-skirts came in. Detroit rolled out the Ford Mustang. Martin Luther King Jr. led a march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama ; and pot was still something to cook in. I was leaving that world and entering another. The 707 descended, and just before its wheels touched the runway, I refreshed my makeup. I was there to bring the soldiers reminders of home. Some of them hadn’t seen an American girl since they arrived in Vietnam. The sun had long set. Out the window I saw flashes of artillery fire on the horizon all around the sparse lights of Saigon. America’s involvement in the war had just begun, and within six months, my old unit, the 1st Cavalry, would mark its one-year anniversary. Soldiers had started to rotate home. My introduction to real war began. I was the only girl on board a chartered passenger jet filled with identical crew cuts and khaki, pressed uniforms. We had crossed the International Date Line, and I couldn’t figure out what day it was. I didn’t know whether we had lost a day or gained a day. We stopped for 20 minutes in Honolulu and for a short time at Clark Air Force Base, in the Philippines. A few other women had boarded at San Francisco, but when we left Clark they were gone. At the start of the flight all the men 26 Donut Dolly were angry at the Viet Cong. They were going to war, and they wanted to kill some Charlies (Viet Cong, VC, Victor Charlie). Patriotism permeated America. Staff Sergeant Barry Sadler’s “Ballad of the Green Berets ” had been number one on the Billboard charts for five weeks.1 I watched those enthusiastic recruits become more and more scared as we neared Saigon. A sergeant strolled down the aisle and stopped to talk. He tried to cover up his tension with swagger. Everyone watched the artillery flashes, like frequent lightning. We knew it wasn’t practice. I thought, Men are being killed. Some of the men around me will be killed within a few months—maybe the sergeant who is talking to me now. The war was real. Below, the airfield was dark. Our landing lights came on, stayed on for only a short time, and then went off. They came on again just before we touched down, but went off quickly. There were no lights on the airfield. We had traveled for 23 hours and landed on a blacked-out runway at Tan Son Nhut (pronounced “Ton son noot”) Air Base outside Saigon. A soldier came on board and bellowed the landing order. We began to unload. Waiting to exit, stories flew. Hostesses and soldiers had been cut down by machine gun fire as they stepped out the door. I wasn’t sure if it was true, but I thought others believed it. Finally at the entrance, tropical air hit my hair and makeup like a steam bath. Armed guards flanked the bottom of the steps. The only light came from a circling Military Police jeep, mounted with a spotlight and a machine gun. We walked briskly, single file into the darkness toward the invisible terminal. I struggled against fear and took strength from the men, who couldn’t show weakness. A single soldier marked our path with a flashlight, as the long, dark column moved across the open space. I felt the fresh mascara become a rivulet down my face. I thought, This is not right. A Donut Dolly is supposed to be a freshfaced girl next door, someone’s sister. We are one of the reasons why these young boys are here to fight for our country’s values, God, motherhood, A Blacked-Out Runway 27 and apple pie. I’m supposed to be a sexless, yet provocative reason for them to defend their country. The dripping mascara must have made me look almost clown-like in that swelter. Certainly not appealing. I had been there no more than a few minutes, and had already lost my first battle. We reached the terminal. Another defeat: no air conditioning. There wouldn’t be any for the next year. The dim, stifling building marked the break between the bright, air-conditioned interior of the stateside jet and the grimness of Vietnam. Apprehensive...