Dartmouth Veterans: Vietnam Perspectives

Radio Days

Radio Days ---------------------------------------------------------alan mckee : u.s. army I hesitated to put anything on paper about working at Armed Forces Radio in Saigon (AFRS) because it seemed trivial and almost insulting , weighed against what real veterans faced, especially those who became casualties of a tragic conflict. Besides, Robin Williams already did the job. I didn’t much like his take on events, however, and couldn’t resist the chance to put the record straight. The whole thing started when I was back on the family farm in Iowa during 1965 and got a call out of the blue from the Department of the Army asking if I wouldn’t like to be assistant officer in charge of AFRS. That was bizarre, because it meant replacing Sturges Dorrance, Dartmouth ’63, who had preceded me as WDCR manager at Dartmouth. During those days I took things like that for granted as either the good work of divine providence or evidence that folks in Washington were all-­ knowing and wanted only the best for everybody. Proudly sporting my second lieutenant’s bars, thanks to Dartmouth’s ROTC program, I found myself supervising experienced enlisted personnel and draftees in Vietnam who had graduated from Penn, Cornell, and other elite schools and were better broadcasters, but I assumed this kind of privilege was also just in keeping with the natural order of things. It is probably good I didn’t arrive in Vietnam earlier, but it meant I missed the best wisecrack of the war. AFRS studios were located in the Brink Hotel in central Saigon, which was hit by a car bomb on Christmas Eve 1964, just before Bob Hope and a bevy of starlets landed at Tan Son Nhut for his annual holiday tour to entertain American troops. Hope joked that he’d received the warmest welcome ever. “Why,” he said, “my entire hotel came out to the airport to meet me.” It is true that, even in Saigon, there was no sanctuary from random Alan McKee : 77 violence. Favorite restaurants were blown up, regrettably including some with the best menus and most scenic settings. I stayed first in the Victoria Hotel officers’ quarters in Saigon’s Cholon district, which was unfortunately devastated by a terrorist bomb detonated just after I moved out. I relocated to the Brink Annex BOQ, a short block from the station. There I remember cowering under the bed at one point as the best available shelter from falling debris. AFRS offered a good vantage point from which to take in the conflict, more as an observer than a participant. For one thing, we were part of Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV) headquarters, which mainly meant we partied with the top brass and had direct contact with the military hierarchy from General Westmoreland down. (I called on him to record holiday messages for broadcast to the troops, which required quite a few “takes” before the message came out right; you’d be surprised how tangled your tongue can get trying to say “Happy Thanksgiving ” into a shaky, hand-­ held mike.) Victoria Hotel BOQ in Cholon after bombing, April 1, 1966 78 : dartmouth veterans There were plenty of MACV parties, sometimes brightly illuminated by flare ships hovering above potential infiltration routes at the edge of town. Of course, social arrangements got more complex after curfews were introduced from late evening until dawn, so companions had to consider the alternatives in advance to avoid any misunderstanding. The Pentagon also made sure that in Saigon we were well entertained by professionals, ranging from an improbable Hello, Dolly! Broadway road show to individual personalities from Walt Kelly to Ann-­ Margret. Most stopped by the station for an interview. Kelly grabbed a felt-­ tipped marker in the studio to dash off a poster-­ size drawing of Pogo in full military uniform, captioned, “I didn’t raise my boy to be no soldier.” We at AFRS liked to sit in on the so-­ called “Five O’Clock Follies” daily press briefings conducted by U.S. information officers, and noticed when big-­ name American journalists managed to cover the war by strolling over from the Caravelle Hotel bar, rarely taking the trouble to leave town. For his part, until he was reprimanded for unsanctioned moonlighting, my boss used to send voice feeds to U.S. networks every night. Sometimes hard news was really scarce. Once he helpfully advised listeners in the United States who wanted...