The Bridges of Vietnam: From the Journals of a U.S. Marine Intelligence Officer

Chapter 3. Internship

Chapter 3 Internship SUNDAY 2 OCTOBER 1966---DAY OFF That's right! Yesterday afternoon the boss asked me if I'd like to have Sundays off when in Saigon. So this morning I slept until 0900, the first time I've done that since I left the States. When I rise, there's nobody on my floor except me and the maids chattering in Vietnamese and Chinese like magpies while they do the daily laundry in dish pans out in the hallway. Suddenly urgent diarrhea propels me into the bathroom, but there's no water pressure! Instead of using a water bowl, a French toilet operates with a water closet (WC) attached to the wall above the toilet. Mter a flush, replacement water trickles into the WC, and eventually fills it enough for the next flush. This morning, not a drop is dribbling into the WC, and the toilet beneath it is brim-full with the dumpings of the other three people who share the bathroom. I rush down Dong Kanh to the street where my friend Harry Holeman's hotel is. Of course he's at work, but I get his key from the Army sergeant first class at the desk, race up the steps, and use Harry's bathroom. It beats squatting over a curb and squirting mushy liquid into the gutter like the children in Cholon do, or squatting in a vacant lot like their parents do. 83 84. The Bridges ofVietnam With my morning ablutions complete, I stroll back to the Hong Kong Hotel. Mter a late breakfast in the dining room, it's time to go into Saigon for a holiday. I meet Peter McDougall, my Australian counterpart, and we go to Tu Do Street. Most of the stands there sell curio items such as you might find on the streets of Tijuana. They are cheap items but not cheap prices for Peter and me. The inequity of the money exchange is hard to accept. The official rate of exchange for the U.S. (Free World) Forces is 118 piasters per dollar . The world market exchange in Hong Kong is about 170 Ps per dollar, and the black market rate is 200-225 Ps per dollar. This means that prices are relatively low, but since American servicemen must pay from thirtythree percent to a hundred percent more for piasters than everybody else, prices are damn high for us. Tu Do Street must have been a wonderful browsing place for tourists at one time, but now it's just a red-light district. The bars attract mostly Americans, along with a few other FWMAF personnel. The customers are sipping drinks, and are buying "Saigon Tea." The going rate of Saigon Tea is 160 P, which brings ten to twenty minutes of female companion- .ship. Most of the buyers don't mind the cost, because they have accumulated a lot of money by the time they come to town, and money will do them no good when they return to the job ofwar. Being old Asia hands, Peter and I do not play this type of game. As the afternoon lengthens, families begin displaying black market merchandise on the sidewalks. Ifyou can't buy it in the PX you can get it here-shoe strings, razor blades, lighter fluid, tools, cameras, transistor radios. And would you believe mess gear? What about U.S. Government ball point pens, which we don't even have in the office? Or would you like to buy "c" Rations? Or maybe you would like a bottle of scotch or bourbon? Part of that case of cognac? Sorry, but you can't buy that canvas bag that is stamped "U.S. Mail." It's not for sale, because the family uses it as a ground cloth over which they spread the items they've brought to sell. We stop for little brown bottles of Ba Muoi Ba (Bah Mee Bah, or 33 beer) at the open-air, street-level patio of a well known restaurant that we've been advised not to frequent. Inside, we take the only unoccupied booth, which is next to the sidewalk. Fans on the ceilingfail to slice through the gloomy mix of cigarette smoke, body odor, perfumes, and stale food Internship. 85 smells. The customers are conversing so quietly that we place our order in whispers. Not one of them glances at us. There are no...