Matt and Ellie were enjoying a beautiful spring day. That morning Matt had tended his garden, weeding between rows of beans, cucumber, summer squash, and his favorite, tomatoes. He was excited. This was the first year that he had used the motorized tiller, so his garden was bigger than ever. He had worked hard that morning, savoring the mild temperatures and getting ready for the heat of summer. Mother brought out a picnic lunch of hummus and pita bread, along with her signature lemonade.
“Thanks, Mom, its hard work being a farmer. I was getting hungry!”
“I know! That’s why I buy produce. You’re going to have to water and weed it. You’ll also have to check for bugs and all sorts of things,” she said with a smile.
Matt had been tending gardens for a few years, mostly in small raised beds. This was his first attempt at a full sized garden.
“I want a garden too!” Ellie announced.
“You can have the beds in the side yard. I’m not working them this year.” Matt offered.
“Can I Mom?” She pleaded.
“Yes, I think that will be fine. What do you think you want to grow?”
“I don’t know. What can be planted this time of year?”
Mother pulled out a seasonal planting guide published by the state cooperative extension offices. She went down the list for May, “Well, this says you can plant beans, greens, sweet corn, cucumbers, eggplant, kale, melons, field peas, potatoes, squash, tomatoes, or turnips.”
“What’s something that will be easy?”
“Well, some of the fruits need a lot more attention. If you miss their harvest by even a few days, they can go bad. We have had problems with potato bugs in the past. They eat up potatoes before we can harvest them. How would you like to grow field peas? They aren’t too hard and harvest is easy. They’re pretty resistant to drought too, in case you forget to water them.”
“That sounds great! I can’t wait till we cook them up with some side meat!”
“You’ve got a lot of work to do before you can eat them.” Matt said.
“Good!” Mother exclaimed, “Matt, you grew field peas last year. You can show her how after lunch.”
“But Mom, I don’t want to. I wanted to play.”
Mother scowled, “You can help teach your sister. It will be good for you two to work together on this. Once you are done, you can play. It shouldn’t take too long.”
Matt grumbled a little, wanting to complain, but knowing that the side garden beds were still in pretty good shape, and it wouldn’t take long to show his sister how to make the rows.
“Ellie, we’ll need two shovels, a hoe, a rake, and seeds. Mom, can you bring the seeds out in a little while?” She smiled, happy to see him taking to the task with a better attitude.
“Sure thing, let me get lunch cleaned up. I’ll come around to check on you guys.”
Ellie went to the shed to gather the tools. Matt met her near the shed. “Here, let me carry a couple of those.” They then took a shortcut through the chicken pen to the side garden.
Matt dropped his tools next to the first raised bed, taking an authoritative, maybe even a bossy tone, he said to Ellie, “First thing, you have to get all the weeds out. If you do not weed, you will have a hard time making the rows and planting. Your crops will be choked out by things like wire grass and stink weed. Once you get the weeds out, you will take a shovel and make a shallow trench, piling up the dirt in a long line beside the trench. Do this as many times as you can in the bed. Then you use the rake and hoe to make sure the dirt is broken up before you put in the seeds.”
“Who’s that I hear over there giving orders like a Drill Sergeant?” boomed a voice from the other side of the tree line.
“Hi Mr. Ed,” Ellie shouted back, “Matt is teaching me how to plant a garden.”
Their next-door neighbor stepped through the trees. “Teaching, huh? It sounds a lot like bossing to me.” Matt hung his head, ashamed, mad at himself for the tone he was using with his sister – and for the reprimand. “Well, it’s just that I worked all morning, and Mom told me I had to help teach Ellie. I don’t want to be helping her; I want to play.”
Mr. Ed walked into the little garden area, surveying the scene and deciding what to say next. “So you wanted your R and R, but had a job to finish first, is that right?”
“R and R?”
“Yes, R and R. That’s Army speak for ‘Rest and Relaxation’. You see in Vietnam, once you had been there for three months, you qualified for a week of R and R. This was kind of like a little vacation that the Army sent you on. You just haven’t put in your three months yet.” He made little quotation marks with his fingers when he said three months.
“If you want, I can tell you a little about it while you do your gardening work. First, I need you to ease up on your sister a little bit. She does not work for you. You are not her boss. In many ways, you two are partners. You are a team. You should help her, and she should help you. Speak kindly, encourage one another. You can tell her what to do, but a lot of it is in your tone. Speak with encouragement and jump in to help. There are better ways to lead than by being bossy. Most importantly, a leader doesn’t tell someone to do something they are not willing to do.
“You want, or need, to help her learn. You have to earn her respect, to teach her. Your teachers do not yell at you all the time, do they? No! They give lessons in a loving way. They earn your trust and share their knowledge. They help you achieve your goals and learn how to do things yourself. Teachers don’t just teach ABCs, they teach you how to think and figure out that D comes next. You know, critical thinking. This is especially true for skills and processes. Be polite, be respectful, and always encourage the student. By doing this you can help them build confidence and abilities.
“If all you do is yell and shout, she’s not really learning anything other than to fear you. Fear does not build strong leaders. Leaders who rule by fear usually fail, look at Napoleon, Hitler, and Stalin. There are a whole host of leaders who had tremendous short-term success, but wound up falling on their own swords, having their system fail after their death. The great leaders earned the respect of their subordinates. Teachers should be the same way.”
“That’s a lot of character lessons for one day. Hand me a rake, and I’ll break up weeds. You two can work on pulling them. Sound good?” Mr. Ed asked, demonstrating the need to lead by example.
“Yes sir.” Matt mumbled.
“Thank you for helping!” Ellie beamed, as the trio started working together.
“In Vietnam my company had been so busy for so long that my R and R was postponed four or five times. After having two aircraft shot out from under me, I needed a break. We had a new company CO, Major Thompson. The day after we wrapped up the Frontier City mission, he called me into the office. ‘Harrison, Major Parks, told me you’ve been on the line for while and need a break. I pulled a couple of strings and you fly out on the next trash flight to Tan Son Nhut Airbase. Ops is cutting your orders, check with them on your way out for the details. Get some rest, get your mind back in the game. I need people like you at 100 percent.’
“I was super excited! I had been in country since the middle of the previous summer, over nine months. Many of my friends were shot down or wounded, some were dead. We even had a crew taken prisoner. I thought for sure that my number was going to come up anytime now. At the time, I did not really notice it, but my nerves were starting to show. I was having a hard time sleeping at night. I had lost fifteen pounds during the deployment. My diet was junk. I was substituting soft drinks and candy for real food. We worked hard, a lot, but I was not really exercising. I had read and reread every book in the Officer’s Club three or four times. I needed a few days of peace without sweating all day. I needed some regular food to clear my mind and body - and to recharge my spirit. My tour had another three months, which seemed like a long time to go. Frankly, I did not expect to make it to the end.
“I stopped at the Operations desk on my way out of the headquarters building. The desk sergeant handed me a jacket of orders and paperwork. ‘Here you go, LT. Trash flight leaves at 1500 for Saigon. They’ll drop you off at Tan Son Nhut, and the crowd there will take care of the other arrangements. Looks like you are off to Bangkok! That’s a super R and R spot - just watch out for the hostesses. They work with the clubs and make a living milking GI’s wallets.’
“I picked up the folder and thanked him as I headed back to my hooch - double time. I did not need to pack much. My orders included picking up some fresh uniforms at the embarkation point at Tan Son Nhut. I had a seven-day pass - two days of travel and five uninterrupted days away from the war. Bangkok had a reputation of being a wild R and R spot. I had put a request in for Tokyo, but I guess that was not to be.
“Other guys had requested Hawaii. You see we worked with the 25th Infantry, and they were home based in Honolulu so a lot of them wanted to go home and see their families. I wanted to go to Tokyo, since my Dad had been part of the occupation force there after World War II. I thought it might be fun to swap stories with him, if I made it home.
“I packed quickly – my toiletries bag, a couple clean pairs of skivvies, my cleanest jungle fatigues, and a couple of civilian shirts that I had acquired and liked to wear when off duty. That was about it. I had been there nine months, and my belongings still would comfortably fit in two bags. I also packed my pay vouchers. We did not get cash while in country. Everyone set up the pay accounts a little different. The Army paid for everything we needed. There were only a few other things to spend money on at Cu Chi, so I did not need much cash – just enough for cold colas or a candy bar. Most of my pay was being sent back home. My folks were depositing it in the bank for me, so I would have almost a full year’s worth of income in the bank when I got home. In country, Army paid script, like vouchers or gift certificates. They had no legal value in the real world but could be spent at the Post Exchange, or PX, which at Cu Chi was like a convenience store mixed with a drug store. There was a big PX down in Saigon that sold everything – food, drinks, cameras, even clothing.
“Sun took the script, called Military Payment Certificates, since he could spend them in the local black market. Many of the locals worked the system. The Army did not want U.S. Dollars flooding the market and destabilizing the local currency. One time the Army pulled all the old MPCs off the market, replacing them in a one to one ratio. Technically, non-Army personnel could not use MPCs, so Sun was stuck with a bunch of worthless currency. He was hot about that for weeks, demanding greenbacks, or U.S. Dollars for a while. One of the more creative men worked him into a scheme of exchange. They both made a ton of money. That calmed him down, and business went back to normal at the Officer’s Club.
“I packed and carried my gear to the chow hall. I remember eating a pressed ham sandwich and a can of pineapple juice for lunch, before walking over to the flight line. Patino was working on Spirit of the Sky with the Beekeepers. I told him I was going on R and R and would be back in a week. Before teasing me a little about running off, he told me that the aircraft should be back operational when I returned. Once again, the Beekeepers were doing a bang-up job keeping aircraft in the air. We chatted for a few minutes, talking about Frontier City and repairs. He had only just qualified for R and R, and told me his request was in for Hawaii. Patino’s wife was planning to catch a flight out, so they could spend at least a couple of days together.
“The aircraft for the day was further down the line of revetments. It was easy to tell who was getting ready to fly and who was in maintenance or stand down modes. The Crew Chief and Peter Pilot were in the middle of their preflight inspection when I walked up. They greeted me and made idle chatter while finishing up. I could sense their jealousy, but I had been in their shoes several times. They were mostly good-natured, without a mean or bitter spirit. Some men made a lot of noise, boasting about their exploits on R and R. Some quietly wished for the break and a chance to sleep undisturbed on a soft bed. I loaded my gear and climbed in the back before the aircraft started up to head east.
“They dropped me off at Camp Alpha, the R and R receiving facility at Tan Son Nhut Airbase, just outside of Saigon. I would spend the rest of today going through the hoops there. I got new uniforms, a shower, a physical, immunizations, and a lecture on rules and acceptable behavior,. They informed me about how to handle trouble – and operational security. Last, we got our passports and a visa. What was supposed to be rest was turning into an exercise in patience working through the Army bureaucracy. The next morning we were broken up into flightsized elements. One group was going to Tokyo, one to Hawaii, others Taipei, Kuala Lumpur, and Bangkok. We worked through an exchange line, turning MPCs into U.S. Dollars that all of the R and R destinations would accept.
“Around noon, my section’s flight arrived. We grabbed our gear and headed out to the flight line. A big Pan-Am 707 was waiting. The atmosphere on the plane was festive. Many of the men were infantry who had been deep in the jungle, staged at remote firebases, or in heavy combat. They were shedding the built-up stress and cutting up in ways that would be very hard for outsiders to understand. Crude jokes, gallows’ humor, insults, harsh bravado, and machismo ruled the plane. A couple of salty old Marines, troops on their second or third tour of duty, were in the back telling stories from earlier R and Rs. Each one would try to outdo the others. Their section would fall silent except for their story telling, each usually ending with a roar of laughter.
“The flight to Bangkok took about four hours. Things settled down just a little, with some trying to get some sleep and others amped up and excited for the recreation opportunities in Thailand. I chatted with a few other Army aviators, one of which had been to Bangkok before. He offered a few suggestions, some sounded outrageous, and others made a lot of sense. He suggested that we group together and reserve a taxi driver. That way we would not have to wait and haggle over prices all week. He also suggested that each man hire a guide and give them all of our money up front. He said the guides were professionals, and they could budget your week to make the most out of whatever money you had.
“Bangkok had been a tourist destination, the gateway to southwest Asia for a long time. They had a rich history. The city was full of beautiful palaces, gardens, temples, and markets. I read last year that Bangkok is the number four city in the world for tourism – just behind New York, Paris, and London. When we landed, we boarded waiting buses. They drove us to the local USO field office, which would be our ‘home base’ during the week. We would check in there and report there to go back. If we had a problem, they were the ones to call. On the way to the USO an old Sergeant Major, in civilian clothes, stood at the front of the bus and gave the local rules. He worked through procedures, where to go if there was trouble, what to expect from the locals, what clubs were off limits, and which ones to stay away from. He even spent a few minutes talking about how certain locals could take advantage of you. The last thing he said, as we pulled into the USO center really stuck with me.
“He said, ‘Look, I recognize that most of you just blew off everything I just said. If you take nothing else from my briefing, remember this. Your R and R ends in five days. I do not really care what you do or how you do it. But!’ his voice raised in volume as he dropped his chin with an ice cold stare, ‘If you’re not back on this bus by sundown Saturday, you’d better be planning on staying in Thailand. Uncle Sam will revoke your passport. Thailand will cancel your visa, and you’ll be hunted as a deserter.’”
“The Sergeant Major took a breath, eased back his shoulders and softened. ‘Now, enjoy your R and R. Dismissed!’ A few men in the back of the bus let out a cheer. Everyone stood and shuffled their way off the bus, most carrying everything they had in a kit bag. We hit the street, forty men dumped in a foreign city. A few moved toward the USO club, looking to make phone calls, read an English language paper, or get some pointers about local events. Most headed directly to a club across the street. The hostesses were lined up waiting for the GI’s. They had numbers, the kind a runner might wear during a race. You told the waiter what number you wanted, and he would bring the hostess over along with her boss. These girls knew the ins and outs of Bangkok – the good food, good clubs, best theaters, how to get around. Hiring one could save you a ton of time and keep you out of other troubles along the way. For $72, she would work for you for the next five days.
“That might not seem like a lot of money to you, but the average weekly wage for our soldiers was about $100 at the time. Most folks in Thailand would hope to make $400 or $500 in a year. These girls were bringing in four or five times that, so it was great money for them. Most of this went smoothly, until a couple of young grunts decided they both wanted the same girl as their hostess. They started pushing and shoving. MPs, or Military Police, pushed their way into the crowd, parting the anxious soldiers and grabbing the two offending men by their ears. Last, I saw they were out on the street with the MPs. Things calmed back down. A young woman wearing the number 24 caught my eye, I motioned to the waiter and within a few minutes, I was $72 dollars poorer and being escorted out of the door by a young Thai lady named, Kamlai. Once outside, she started talking. Explaining her rules – how she liked to do business, and asking questions about what kind of things I wanted to do.
“Kamlai spoke excellent English. Later she told me her parents had both worked for the British Royal Air Force during World War II. The way she said her name it almost sounded like Kimmy. She said I should call her Kam. We walked a few blocks toward a park. Mostly, I told her I wanted to relax, maybe see a movie, maybe just sit in a park, or go fishing. I did not want to go anywhere loud, obnoxious, or spend a lot of time waiting in line. We talked about my budget and lodging. Our walk took us to a beautiful little park in the middle of the city. In many ways, Thailand and Vietnam were similar – nearly identical climate, similar geography, agriculture, natural resources, and ethnicity. The different environment really struck me. Saigon was chaos. Roads did not make sense. Modern multi-story buildings stood next to shacks made of reeds and mud, and the people were very poor. Bangkok was a bustling modern city. Peace, and a solid government, had allowed the Thai people to flourish. War and changing governments had repressed the Vietnamese.
“We sat and talked in the park for an hour, maybe more. It’s hard to remember. It was great – no war, no rockets, no mortars, clean clothes, and a pretty girl. Kam recommended a nearby hotel. Her uncle owned it and she said it was ‘top notch’.
“‘First,’ she said, ‘Ed, we need to get you a suit. You don’t want to wear that uniform all the time. Come with me.’
“We walked just outside of the park, crossing a busy street. Much like Saigon, pedal cabs, bicycles, and mopeds seemed to be the primary transportation. One thing they had here. but not in Saigon, was the tuk-tuk. Occasionally a straight bed truck or passenger car would mix in.”
“Mr. Ed? What’s a tuk-tuk?” Ellie asked, looking up from her weeding.
“Tuk-tuks are like miniature three-wheeled buses. They usually have open sides and a roof, but look a little like overgrown tricycle. They’re neat to ride in, not as fast as a car. They can fit into narrow spaces, and take up less room.”
“Oh, like a golf cart?”
“Kind of, maybe a bit bigger and they usually had a gasoline motor.”
“Anyway, we walked out of the park and into a small shop. The clerk smiled at Kam, and they exchanged a burst of Thai. I understood none of it, but a moment later, the clerk disappeared into the back. Kam motioned for me to wait, holding up one finger. Not thirty seconds later, an older man popped through the doorway. He spoke in halting English.
“‘Hello, GI, I see you need new suit. Stand here.’ He motioned to a footstool, indicating that I should stand on it. ‘OK! How you like your suit to fit – loose? Tight? like James Bond?’
“For the better part of the last two years, I had worn only what the Army had issued me. The only thing I had ever had fitted was the Dress Uniform I wore at the OCS graduation ceremony, and that had just been altered from an off-the-rack uniform. Custom suits were new to me, so I did not really know what to do.
“‘Never mind, just stand here, I do the rest.’ The tailor buzzed around me, feeling for joints, holding his tape measure, looking at different proportions. He never wrote anything down, just spent about five minutes taking measurements. ‘OK. You come back tomorrow afternoon. I have suit ready for you. What color you want? Blue? Pinstripe, like Mickey Mantle? Black? No black, too formal, this suit for relaxing! Here!’ He turned suddenly, running through a stack of fabric swatches, before handing over a charcoal colored tropical wool blend with white pin stripes. ‘This I think is best for you, unless you want polyester leisure suit!’
“I shook my head and pointed at the wool. The wool blend looked nice and reminded me of a suit my grandfather had worn to church on special Sundays. Kam broke in, using Thai. They went back and forth for a few minutes before she turned to me, both of them smiling, ‘He says this is a $40 suit, but for you he will make it special for $25.’
“I gave the thumbs up, and the tailor, beaming, bowed slightly, ‘Good! Come back tomorrow, I have it ready for you!’
“With that we were ushered out. Kam took me to a street vendor. ‘Here, you need to try Pad Thai. It’s a very popular dish here.’ She ordered two bowls. The cook worked a very hot wok just behind the counter, throwing ingredients into the dish, flipping them over, tossing in a little of this a little of that. It was amazing to watch him work. All the ingredients were prepared, cut up, in bowls beside the wok. He started with some vegetables, palm root, shallots, chili peppers, peanuts. Boy did they sizzle in the hot oil of the wok! He turned them over just a time or two before adding the scrambled eggs that cooked within seconds. Next, went a handful of peeled shrimp. I had never seen an egg or shrimp cook so fast. Then he tossed in rice noodles, and made a quick sauce in the pan. The cook picked up the wok and scooped the Pad Thai into our bowls. He tossed some Thai basil on the top and handed the bowls across to us. Kam motioned over to the side counter, picking up two sets of bamboo chopsticks, passing me one set.
“The Vietnamese used a lot of fish sauce. They used it on everything. The deep pungent fish smell masked most other flavors in that country. Here, they used it sparingly. The other flavors all jumped out of the bowl at me. It was spicy, sweet, savory, with just a little bite of fish sauce – crunchy and chewy, and loaded with exotic flavors. It was amazing, and I have never tasted anything like it since then. I have tried Pad Thai at lots of other places, but it never measures up to that first bowl. I think maybe being fresh off the battlefield, accustomed to Army food for so long; my taste buds must have been asleep. That bowl of noodles woke them up and set me up for the next week.
“Kam walked me to a nearby hotel. It wasn’t the one that men on the bus had been chattering about. As we walked into the lobby, the grandeur and beauty blew me away. There was a giant gilded dragon boat in the foyer. A giant column stood over a marble floor with an inlaid pattern of stars; the ceiling was at least three stories up. A bellhop met us at the door and took my bag. Kam rattled off a bit of Thai to him, handing him a bill, before telling me, ‘This is Tom. He will take care of you while you are here. I will go get you checked in. You can wait in the bar, if you like. It’s right over there.’
“I nodded and wondered around the foyer a bit, absorbing the beauty of the state-of-the-art hotel. It was as nice as anything Las Vegas might have had at the time.
“Kam caught up with me about ten minutes later, ‘OK. You’re all set in room 1417.’ She grabbed my hand and led me off toward the elevators.
“Once upstairs we met Tom, he greeted me again with a big smile this time. ‘Hello, GI. You like your room! Me number one bell boy. You need anything you let Tom know!’
“I was amazed at how overwhelmingly kind and helpful everyone had been. Towards the end of my trip, I realized that at least part of it was a role they were playing. You see, the hospitality industry is very good at making money. Folks who are happy and comfortable spend more money. Folks who are mad or do not feel like they are treated well do not spend much. I guess I had given Kam a big budget for a GI, so I was getting first class treatment. American dollars went a long way in Thailand those days.
“Kam showed me the room and helped me unpack. She wrinkled her nose at my wardrobe selections, pulling a couple of shirts and slacks out of my bag and tossing them to the side. ‘I’m glad we stopped at the tailor first. You need better clothes; these make you look like a tourist. Now you wash, I’ll have Tom get these pressed.’
“I obeyed, wanting to take a long uninterrupted hot shower, without having to worry about a mortar attack, a launch alert, or a snake in the latrine. As I closed the bathroom door, I heard her talking on the phone in rapid Thai. The shower was amazing. I could feel the tension in my neck and back draining along with suds. I had taken a shower at Camp Alpha, so the battle dust was gone; however, air travel and a few hours of walking in Bangkok had left me smelling a bit sour. I showered, taking my time and enjoying the peace and warm water. After shaving and putting on a robe, I went back out to the other room and my clothes. Neatly folded on the bed, freshly pressed and lightly starched were the clothes she had taken out of my bag not fifteen minutes earlier.
“Kam handed me a set of clothes. ‘Here, put these on. I have reservations for us at an American style restaurant in an hour. I thought you might like a nice steak dinner.’
“We chatted for a few minutes. Then she smiled her face lighting up as if she had forgotten something. ‘Ed! Come here and see!’ She threw open a blind along the outside wall, exposing a wide glass door. She opened the door and walked out onto a small balcony. Turning she encouraged me to come outside with her. We were almost 150 feet above the street. The bustle of the street was just a dull rumble from this distance. I looked outside. The city was huge. There were modern skyscrapers, brightly colored shops and ancient looking Buddhist temples. Everything blended and made sense, even though there were centuries of difference in the varieties of construction. It was an amazing sight. Three-wheeled tuk-tuks roamed the streets below, ferrying people around.
“Kam made a quick phone call before we headed downstairs. Just outside, Tom was waiting, standing next to our ride. Kam motioned to the tuk-tuk. Tom stood smiling. All week long, that fellow would meet any need, sometimes before I even knew I needed it. Tom would be there, big smile, handing me something, opening a door, hailing a ride. The tuk-tuk we got onto was a two-seat bench, riding behind a motor bike. Some were a lot bigger, almost like small buses, seating four, six, and sometimes eight people facing each other. Kam gave some instructions to the driver and off we went. He weaved in and out of traffic, I do not know if he used the force, or luck, or had eyes in the back of his head, but we survived. Kam handed him payment as we got out.
“After a great dinner, we walked around for a bit, passing a few of the Buddhist temples. These things were immaculate. They ranged in size from little bigger than a house to giant palaces. Their roofs were usually clay tiles, but some had gold gilding. There were lots of bright reds, blues, and greens. The Buddhist monks tended to most. The monks gave up everything for a life of meditation, work, thought, faith, and prayer. They were super dedicated to their religion. Their belief structure revolved around trying to reach nirvana, kind of like the Christian heaven. They believed that existence is suffering, and suffering has a cause. There is a path to cessation of suffering. The monks believed they could reach the nirvana level by meditation, so they spent a lot of time sitting very still and thinking. When they were not meditating, they were studying or working on their temples. Some of them wondered around, living off the kindness of the community.
“Sleep came easily that night. Unfortunately, it did not last long. The bed was very comfortable, the air-conditioning cold, the room dark and quiet, but I woke up several times. A couple of times I woke up sitting upright, scrambling for shoes and getting half way to the door thinking I was hearing Cu Chi’s raid sirens. I went to the balcony one time and just stood, leaning on the railing and listening. Even in the middle of the night, Bangkok was still buzzing with activity. Delivery trucks moved around. GIs and tourists roamed the clubs and bars. I caught the distant wail of a siren. They had the British style two-toned electric sirens, not the whining mechanical sirens that were popular in the states. I wondered if a part of me heard those and thought I was still in Vietnam. I stood on the balcony for a long time, taking in the lights and sounds of the city. Mostly I just felt guilty.
“My men, Patino and Crabtree, plus other buddies, were still in Vietnam. Maybe they were being shot at tonight. Maybe they were sleeping in the mud at some forward staging base. I just did not know. A huge part of me felt like I should be there with them. Another part of me was grateful that I wasn’t. Then another part screamed out. It took me a while to recognize this feeling. I had done a lot to suppress feelings over the last nine months. It was guilt. Here I was living the good life while they suffered through Vietnam. I thought about that for a while, trying to justify and manage my feelings. Kam came out, evidently hearing me opening the door.
“She put her hands on my shoulders, rubbing gently. ‘Ed, you need to relax. Those soldiers have a job to do. You have done your part. It is time to relax and have fun. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we go to the Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew.’
“It was somewhat odd; she just knew what was wrong, despite me never saying. Maybe it was a common concern with other troops too. I nodded. Five days ago, I was making flights into Frontier City, taking RPG, mortar, and machine gun fire. Now I was standing in a luxury hotel, enjoying great food, and pleasant company. It was a lot to process and hard to change gears between war and play.
“Much later, after I was back home, my father and I had a long conversation about some of these topics. He told me a story about Operation Magic Carpet, which was the name the military used for the task of bringing eight million U.S. service members home from World War II. They used all kinds of ships. They loaded troops on battleships, aircraft carriers, everything. He told me that these guys had some of the same problems – nightmares, trouble sleeping, weight changes, and startling at loud noises. A few of them even had panic attacks from certain smells. These GIs had been off the battlefield for months. They had spent weeks in camps, on ship, and on trains getting from the front lines to home. I had just about thirty-six hours. It just was not enough time for the mind to process and shift gears.
“Being in combat, or even in a war zone, changes your whole outlook. Priorities, day-to-day activities, even the simple things like bathing, take a different importance. The Army provides all you need, food, medicine, shelter, ammo. There is no stress about things like that. On leave, or at home, you have to worry about money, lodging, food – all of our ‘first world’ problems. Combat is different. The mission, survival, the fight, looking out for your buddies, maintenance, and these types of things become your world. It is not easy to move back and forth between these different environments. I took Kam’s advice and lay down to try and rest. Vietnam was outside of my control right now. This week was about me, not about the Hornets.
“The next morning I ate breakfast in the hotel’s dining room. Kam told me that the tailor needed us to stop by for a few minutes for a final size check and that my suit should be ready by noon, if it did not need too many alterations. Kam was excited, saying that I needed nice clothes and implying that I did not look quite right for the hotels and restaurants she had in mind for us. Once we finished, we headed over to the tailor’s shop. The old man who took my measurements the day before met us in the showroom. ‘Ah, hello GI! I have your suit ready! Just need to try it on, make sure it right. Here, go change.’ He pointed to a partition, ‘Your suit gray one on right.’
“I slid behind the partition. The suit was beautiful. It was a light gray woolen blend with lighter-colored pin striping and a silk lining. A suit like that would easily cost $1500 today. I slipped on the trousers, no belt, just suspenders, followed by the jacket. It looked great! I swung my arms, pulled them over my head – everything felt amazing!
“‘Hey! GI, you get lost in there? Come out let me see.’ I stepped out. ‘Ah look there, A Number 1. Come stand here. Let me check.’
“I stepped up onto the stool that he used for measuring. His hands ran across the fabric, adjusting, pulling here and tugging there, before standing back. ‘I need fix the legs. Take ten minute. You change now.’ The pants felt fine to me, but the old man insisted. I stepped back behind the partition and changed trousers before handing them to him as I came out. ‘Very good, be back. Ten minute.’
“‘Ed, you need some other shirts too. Here, what do you think of these?’ Kam asked as she held out a fancy silk skirt, with huge French cuffs.
“‘Sorry, Kam, don’t like the frilly stuff,’ I told her, ‘just normal shirts for me.’
“‘How about this?’ she asked, holding up another silk shirt, from a different rack.
“‘Yes! That’s more my style.’
“She buzzed around the shop, picking up clothes, slacks, and socks before coming to the neck tie rack. ‘Ed, I’ll just pick out one or two for you, pretty ones that match your eyes.’ She gathered the items and deposited them at the desk as the old man came out from the back room.
“‘Here you go. GI, pants all fixed now.” He handed me the trousers, and sure enough in less than ten minutes, he had re-hemmed both legs. Kam turned to him, speaking Thai and motioning to the parcels on the desk. The old man bowed slightly, and then turned to me. ‘GI, you best dressed man in Bangkok.’
“Kam beamed, fired off a little more Thai, before saying to me, ‘Ed, you should wear the new suit today, with this shirt. You need to look your best for the palace.’
“She handed me a black short-sleeved silk shirt with gleaming buttons, if they weren’t ivory I don’t know what they were, but those buttons were beautiful. I stepped back behind the partition and changed into my new custom-made $25 suit. After changing and adjusting the suspender straps a bit, I stepped out. I felt like a million bucks. The suit fit perfectly and just felt good on me. Even in the humid heat of Bangkok, the wool blend was comfortable, and the silk just breathed.
“Now, you look like you should!” Kam said, smiling.
“The old man was smiling also, ‘Everything great, A number 1. Thank you, thank you.’
“He grabbed my hand, bowing as he spoke. It was strange, that kind of treatment. Outside I found out Kam had tipped him nicely, along with purchasing another $30 worth of shirts and clothing.
“‘Hey,’ I asked her, ‘don’t we need to carry the stuff with us?’
“‘No silly,’ she said, ‘Tom will come pick it up once they alter the shirts for you.’
“I shook my head as we walked to the intersection at the end of the road to hail a tuk-tuk, marveling at the system these folks had in place.
“Kam’s plan for the day was to visit The Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew. She said both with a strange reverence. I had read in a tour book in my room that the Grand Palace had been the home of the royal family until around the turn of the century. Since then it has been a major tourist destination in the city. Wat Phra Kaew was a Buddhist temple, home of the Emerald Buddha. This statue was so important to the Thai people that only the King could touch him. Three times a year the king would change the cloak on the Emerald Buddha. He used a different cloak for winter, summer, and the rainy season. The Thai believed that would bring them luck. These landmarks did not disappoint.
“The Grand Palace was along the waterfront, surrounded by a masonry wall. The Palace itself soared above the surrounding gardens and buildings. There were steep spires on each of the main buildings. Fifty odd years before I was there, the palace had been the seat of government. All the buildings inside the wall were different ministries – war, finance, interior, education, all sorts of different royal offices were there. The Palace zone is made of three areas – outer, middle, and inner. The inner zone was mostly off limits; this was the home site of the royal family. Most important government offices and the throne rooms were in the middle area. Over a period of 150 years, different kings had added grand buildings to the palace zone. In many ways, each was trying to outdo his predecessors, or include different architectural tastes. This meant there were different styles of building, different art, and themes. A consistent feature was clay tile roofing. The outer area held less important offices, plus the most impressive building on the grounds, the Wat Phra Kaew, or temple of the Emerald Buddha.
“The Wat Phra Kaew was magnificent. The Temple building was huge. We walked around the terrace, and artists had painted giant murals from Thai history and Buddhist theology. Golden demons held up the walls, two huge figures guarded the main door. These statues were maybe fifteen or twenty feet tall. It was a wonderful display of art. We stood in line for quite a while and were finally able to shuffle, slowly into the center of the temple. We could not get close. The area around the Emerald Buddha stayed roped off and guarded. We could see the figure. It was about two feet tall, carved out of a single piece of green stone. The figure seated, in a meditation pose. Legend has it that the Emerald Buddha made its way to Bangkok from Northern India, where artists made it around 43 B.C., and that whoever possessed the statue would have good fortune. The only other time I have seen a crowd act that way was when I visited the National Archives in Washington and saw the Declaration of Independence and Constitution. Folks, especially the local Thai, acted with a somber reverence that’s hard to describe.”
“Hey Mr. Ed,” Ellie said, dusting her hands off. “I’ve been there too! We went to Washington last summer! There was a cool exhibit in the Archives where we could do research with real records. . .”
“We saw the Declaration of Independence too. I remember the room was kept real dark.” Matt interrupted.
Mr. Ed stopped raking, “That’s right, I didn’t remember that, but now that you mention it, I recall seeing somewhere they kept the lights low to prevent damage to the paper the documents are written on. But, I bet you could wear whatever clothes you wanted into the Archive building, couldn’t you?”
Matt looked out into the yard for a minute, trying to remember. “Well, we had to go through metal detectors. We couldn’t take any pictures either. Dad had to leave his backpack at the coat check. Other than that, I don’t remember anything about a dress code.”
“In Thailand, to even go onto the Grounds of the Grand Palace you had to be dressed appropriately; long pants, shoes, long sleeve shirt, no t-shirts, no short sleeves, no shorts. Women had to wear full dresses, nothing strapless, or off the shoulder. They even had a booth near the entrance where you could rent clothes to tour the grounds. It was all very strict and formal.
“Thailand was my first visit to a country with a monarchy. Things were different. Everywhere we went, something was named after old rulers – King so and so bridge, the King’s Library, King what’s his name’s neighborhood. It was like the entire government was there to prop up the monarch. It was very different from America, where the people control the government. I remember one stop, later in the week. We went to see a movie. Before the movie started, you know, the part where they try to sell you popcorn, candy, and a drink? A giant image of the Thai King projected onto the screen. The whole theater stood up and sang the Thai national anthem. Kind of like we do the Star Spangled Banner before a ball game here. It was odd, to me, at least, how they revered their king. I guess it is just the difference in folk’s raising.
“That week was a blur. Kam kept us busy. We toured the city, and we visited a few other temples and attractions. We visited the central market, where Kam helped me bargain a few great trinkets to send to some folks back home. We ate amazing food. She even set us up on a bus tour of the Bangkok countryside. The landscape really was similar to Vietnam, but everything was clean, neat, organized, effective, and unscarred. In Vietnam, there were bomb craters, defoliated areas, amputees, lots of burn victims, plus the nearly constant buzz of helicopters, attack aircraft, and artillery.
“Most of what we did were touristy kind of things – going, seeing, doing – the types of things one would write on a bucket list. The last thing that sticks out in my memory was racing go-karts. The next to last day I was in Bangkok, Kam set us up at a gas-powered go-kart track outside of town. We took a bus out of town, to a paved quarter-mile road course. The course twisted and turned, the straightaway sections just had grass, and the turns were lined with old tires. This way, if you lost control you would just bounce into a rubber barrier and not get too badly hurt. There were maybe a dozen other GIs there, so there was a fair bit of trash-talking and an occasional bet on the outcome of a particular race. We ran four at the time. We would strap in, put on a worn out leather crash helmet, which reminded me of an old football helmet, and the attendants would come out and crank start the two-cycle gas motors.
“I was on my last race of the day, coming around a curve in third place. I steered the kart low in the corner, hoping to cut under the driver in front of me. Well, the man in front of me had the same idea, hoping to cut under the leader. So there I was, pinched between the kart in front of me and the wall. I tried to ease off the gas, but the throttle stuck. He bumped my front corner, or I bumped his rear corner, not really sure who was at fault. We both spun out. I think I did a turn and half, because I wound up facing the wrong direction stuck against the outside retaining wall. At some point during the spin, the motor quit, so everything was quiet. As I was sitting there, facing the wrong direction on the racetrack. One of the attendants came running up to me, screaming bloody murder. Of course it’s all in Thai and, at that point, I only spoke about a dozen words.
“‘Ngoo how chang! Ngoo how chang! Ngoo how chang!’ He kept yelling and pointing, keeping his distance. I looked to my left. Coiled up inside of the tire, maybe six inches from my head was a king cobra. His head was up and puffed out, and he was staring at me. I tell you, that was one of the scariest moments in my entire deployment. My life flashed before my eyes, school dances, ball games, basic training, combat missions, my car back home. . .I thought for sure that snake was going to reach out and have me for lunch. I stared, not knowing what to do. It felt like hours. The snake just sat there, waving slowly back and forth, ready to strike at a seconds notice.”
At this point, Mr. Ed had stopped resting on the rake and was holding the handle out in front of the kids and twisting it back and forth in a snaky waving motion.
“Just when I thought for sure it was going to strike. . . .BANG!” He dropped the rake, clapped his hands with a loud bang. Both kids jumped back, startled.
“Somebody showed up with a shotgun and took care of him. I tell you what. I almost needed to change my trousers after that,” Mr. Ed admitted. “Hey! Look at that, you have all the weeds out! Looks like you are ready to make your rows and plant your seeds. You’re almost done now!”
Ellie grinned, excited to be getting close to her favorite part, sticking her finger into the soil to make a little hole to drop the seeds into before patting the dirt back over.
“Ellie, get the hoe, you’ve got to dig a little trench and make a mound on either side.” Matt barked out the order.
Mr. Ed put his hand on the young man’s shoulder, “Hey! What did I say earlier?”
Matt felt his pride oozing away, realizing that he bossed his sister again. “Ellie, I’m sorry. The next part is to take the hoe and dig a shallow trench. I like to work the long direction of the bed and kind of pull everything up to one side. Here, I will let you use the hoe. I can dress your rows with the rake.”
“That’s the spirit, much better, Matt.” Mr. Ed watched as his two young neighbors crafted their rows and prepared to plant beans.
“Mr. Ed? Will you finish your story?” Ellie asked.
He looked up for a moment, considering what else to say. “Sure, there’s really not much else to say. Kam did a bang up job, she showed me all the sights, got me some great food, a beautiful new suit, and helped me learn to relax a little. I think that being alone in Bangkok would have been a mistake for me, but those hostesses really made life easy on us GIs. At the end of the week, I changed back into my uniform. Kam carefully packed away the clothes I had purchased, along with the trinkets. Tom sent my bag with a messenger to the USO Station, and I walked Kam back to the club where we first met.
“It had only been five days, but it felt like a lot longer than that in some ways. Kam was a friend, at least I thought so. The thought that she was going to put a number back on and wait for another GI to guide around the city made me a little angry. I guess I was being selfish that way. Once I dropped her off, I went back to the USO station to pick up my gear and wait for the bus. The bus brought me back to the airport. Then Pan-Am brought me back to Tan Son Nhut, a Muleskinner brought me back to Cu Chi, and I was back in the war.”
The kids had finished making their rows, and Ellie was squatting next to them. She stuck a finger in the loose soil, then picked up one or two field pea seeds and dropped them into the hole. After that, she patted the soil over the hole. Every third or fourth hole she would stand up, eased forward and repeated the process.
All right, guys, looks like you’re about done. Once you put away your tools, you should be ready for R and R! What do you think you’re going to do?”
“I want to ride my bike!” Matt said.
Ellie, a little tired from the hard work of her garden, said, “I want to play corn-hole!”
Mr. Ed smiled, “Sounds like you guys have it all worked out. I hope you have fun! I’ve got to go finish up my gardening for today too!”