CHAPTER 19
Bells clanged and the villagers screamed as gunfire exploded and the body count rapidly mounted. No, we weren’t under attack; it was simply another night at the movies, and Clint Eastwood was blazing away on the big screen.
One of the few but probably the most appreciated “perks” enjoyed by U.S. advisory teams in Vietnam were the 16mm movies. The Department of Defense, in conjunction with the Hollywood movie industry, had established a program that provided a wide variety of movies on 16mm film. These movies, which ran the gamut from the worst of the B movies to the latest first-run films, were available on a rotating basis to U.S. units all over Vietnam. Advisory teams were no exception, and each team had been issued its very own 16mm Bell and Howell projector. For the advisory team in Dinh Quan, one of the week’s highlights was the arrival of the chopper from Xuan Loc with its cargo of military supplies, mail, and five to seven movies for the week. Considerable effort and debate went into determining the sequence and schedule for the showing of these movies, with each team member arguing for his particular choices.
Normally, we would show one movie each evening after dinner. The team member assigned radio duty for the evening would position himself just outside the radio room, where he could monitor radio traffic yet still be able to watch the movie. Since advisory duties required each team member to be out in the evening from time to time, it was necessary for each of us to master the idiosyncrasies of the temperamental projector. Additionally, the film frequently had numerous breaks, chewed-up guide holes, and less than perfect soundtracks as a result of hundreds of showings and rough handling. Considering the environment, I guess it’s amazing that they worked as well as they did! Nonetheless, woe to the poor operator if the film broke or jumped track during a critical scene. I can still recall one evening when I held a flashlight for nearly two hours when the soundtrack activator bulb on our projector burned out. It was “showtime,” and in that situation rank did not matter. By carefully aiming the light into the machine, I was able to provide the necessary light beam to activate the soundtrack. The slightest movement on my part resulted in interruption of the soundtrack and brought an immediate disgruntled response from my teammates. Believe me, the next day I was on the radio to everyone within a 75-mile radius trying to locate a replacement soundtrack bulb!
A major spin-off benefit of having the movies was that they afforded me an opportunity to invite Major Xuan, the Vietnamese district chief, over each evening. Major Xuan had left his family in Saigon so that his children could attend French schools. A traditionalist, he did not like to fraternize with his junior officers. So nearly every evening he would take advantage of my standing invitation and come over for the movie. He and I would sit on the sofa, sip a brew or two, and take in the latest cinematic offering. I quickly discovered that these informal sessions were the most productive portion of the day. It strengthened the personal relationship between Xuan and me, enhanced communication, and fostered cooperation in all aspects of district activities. Many a plan was hatched and problem solved while John Wayne or some other Holly wood icon was blasting away on the white sheet that we hung on our wall to serve as a screen for these occasions.
It was not unusual for us to show the same movie twice in a single evening. The better flicks required an encore, and frequently team members who had been out attending to duties would arrive late and demand a rerun for their benefit. Strangely, it seemed that often some of the worst B movies actually got better with a second showing—or maybe it was just the beer!
Sometimes we received advance “movie reviews” from other teams via the radio network. If the reviews were especially good, we would run two or more separate movies in a night rather than wait for their scheduled appearance later in the week. As bad as some of these films were (and some were atrocious), I don’t believe we ever had a movie that we didn’t enjoy—even if our enjoyment came from the hilarious ridicule being heaped on the film!
The construction of our team house resulted in a far greater audience each night than we anticipated. The team house walls were wooden from the concrete floor up to about four feet, and from there to the ceiling they were simply screen wire to allow the ventilation necessary to deal with the heat and humidity. I came to note, with some concern, that each night as our movies got underway, scores of faces would appear at the screen wire, peering in to watch the movies. Generally these would be soldiers or national policemen who would stand for hours transfixed by the action taking place on our makeshift screen. This obviously created a security concern among team members. It would have been easy for someone to toss a grenade into the darkened room or to place a satchel charge against the wall of the building. I am absolutely convinced that among our phantom audience were bona fide members of the local Viet Cong organization. We were easy targets in that situation, but as everyone soon learned, when serving on an advisory team, you are constantly vulnerable. It was an occupational hazard that was just part of the job. There never were any movie-related security incidents during my tour, and to the best of my knowledge none before or after. In retrospect, perhaps the movies made us more secure. An attack on us would have eliminated the major source of entertainment in Dinh Quan District!
Recognizing the interest created by our movies and acknowledging our faithful phantom audience, I decided to build an outdoor screen. Inspired by my teenage experience with drive-in movies, we erected a large 6-foot by 10-foot screen made of white target cloth on two large poles in front of our team house. One benefit, which we didn’t anticipate but soon recognized, was that the movie image was equally visible from both the front and back of the screen. We now had a back-to-back theater! Since Dinh Quan was a very rural district, very few of the Vietnamese spoke English, so it really didn’t matter if they could hear the dialogue or read any text that might appear on the screen. The outdoor movie was a tremendous hit. Crowds would frequently exceed a hundred or more inside the compound, with scores of others gazing through the concertina wire 20 yards away that separated us from Highway 20.
The Vietnamese audience was a lot more vocal in its reaction to the movies than the typical American audience. They seemed to enjoy each and every movie no matter how bad it was, often pleading with us to back it up to “instant replay” a particular piece of action or to rerun the entire movie. They particularly enjoyed action movies, especially Westerns. The plots were simple, you could always tell the good guys from the bad guys, and you didn’t need to understand English. Clint Eastwood’s spaghetti Westerns were popular in the United States at that time, and eventually all of them reached us. The Vietnamese went wild over them! We must have shown each one more than a half-dozen times. They kept elaborate score, shouted, cheered, rang bells, and generally celebrated each time Eastwood dispatched another of the villains.
Near the end of my tour, I managed, through some “horse trading” with an American unit, to get a copy of John Wayne’s The Green Berets. I thought the Vietnamese would really love it. Here was a film showing the Vietnamese to be courageous, tough fighters in noble defense of their country against the treacherous Viet Cong. I was especially excited, because as a captain on the Infantry Center staff at Fort Benning, Georgia, I had been personally involved with John Wayne in selecting sites for shooting the movie. In addition, a number of my friends appeared as extras in the film.
Word of the movie spread through the district, and when the time for the showing came hundreds of spectators were on hand. I must admit that the anticommunist/anti-VC slant of the film caused me to be far more concerned about security than usual. I discussed it with Major Xuan, but other than increased vigilance, there was little we could do. I very discreetly wore my pistol under my jungle fatigue jacket that evening, although the protection it provided was more psychological than real.
The movie started with a great deal of excitement and expectation, but once the scenes in the film shifted to Vietnam, the enthusiasm dampened, and clearly something was amiss. Even the district chief seemed upset. I asked him what was wrong. At first he politely denied that anything was wrong, but the longer the movie ran, the more his agitation became apparent. Finally, choosing his words carefully so as not to offend, he told me what was wrong. It turned out he was angry and disappointed—here was the great Vietnamese war saga, and the actors playing the parts of the Vietnamese in the movie weren’t Vietnamese! They were Chinese, Japanese, Koreans, and Asians of all sorts, but they clearly weren’t Vietnamese, and their attempts at the Vietnamese language were for the most part atrocious. The Vietnamese in the audience were likewise offended and disappointed, but were too polite to walk out. They sat through the movie, applauding quietly from time to time, but clearly my big entertainment treat was a total bust!
OCCASIONALLY, SOMEONE WOULD come up with an XXX-rated movie from Hong Kong or elsewhere. Although the troops generally referred to these movies as “training films,” for the record these were not on the Department of Defense official circuit. These films were generally of horrible quality, black-and-white, and grainy, with no plot and no soundtrack. Nonetheless, these little jewels, judiciously not shown outside, really created a stir as everyone felt obligated to comment on all aspects of the performances! The Vietnamese officers were little different from the Americans in their reactions to these films. Invariably, there would initially be some embarrassed giggles, but before long they would be pointing and howling with laughter. It was not unusual for them to urge a second or third showing of these films—just like their American counterparts.
I recall on one occasion being invited to dinner at the field headquarters of the 43rd Regiment of the 18th ARVN Division. The 43rd Regiment was conducting a military operation in War Zone D, a major portion of which was in Dinh Quan District, and had established its command post in a Buddhist temple about a quarter-mile from my team house. When Hughes and I arrived, we were escorted into the temple, where the regimental commander, a Vietnamese lieutenant colonel, and his senior staff, as well the senior members of the U.S. advisory staff assigned to the regiment were assembled, enjoying their cognac prior to dinner. After an excellent dinner, with more cognac, of course, the lights were extinguished, and to my shock and utter amazement a series of the seediest XXX movies one can imagine were thrown up on the temple wall. “Pornographic” fails to do justice to the scenes flickering across the makeshift screen. While everyone was caught up in the cinematic drama, I was overcome with a sense of uneasiness. I wasn’t sure if Buddha had mastered lightning bolts or not, but Hughes and I kept exchanging nervous glances, half-expecting one to come tearing through the roof at any minute!