Pleasure Island

Not so much



Over the next several days I got my feet back on the ground, and even made a couple friends. One of the guys had a day off coming and wanted to take me downtown to show me the city. I wasn't sure what I was getting into exactly. But I'd been looking for adventure when I volunteered, and my new friend was excited to show me the sights.

Once we passed through the main gate, the world on the other side of the guard posts and barbed wire was a circus of sound and color. We walked about a hundred feet from the gate and were surrounded with kids trying to sell everything and anything. These street urchins wore several watches on skinny arms, that were probably stolen or fakes. Several wanted to take me to meet their sister, only one dollar.


Outside the gate the brothel spread into the street, for at least a half a mile. It had the feel of Pleasure Island from the story, Pinocchio. Where boys and girls were free to do anything they wanted, and no rules. In that story, when the wild party was over they all turned into donkeys.

In this sin city of anarchy I saw things I'll never forget. As unpleasant as some were, they gave me perspective on humanity and of the war. I was prepared to see hookers, I was no angel. But the sight of middle aged men renting very young girls, "baby-sans," was nauseating to me.

I believed in the high minded ideals of fighting for democracy, and freeing the Vietnamese from oppression. The image of hundreds of young girls and women selling their bodies to Americans, for a dollar a pop clashed with my beliefs. There were many Vietnamese who didn't bother to hide their disgust at any American passerby. 

Some street smells I could identify, others were strange to me, I had no idea what they might be.  Street vendors hawked Vietnamese food I couldn't recognize, and other shopkeepers offered more familiar submarine sandwiches. My buddy warned me not to touch the street meat. "The meat is water buffalo at best and rat at worse, take your chances."

Next stop was his favorite bar, down a narrow alley off the main streets. Out front we found a small table and chairs. As soon as we sat down, two pretty girls plopped down in our laps. The host was quick to bring us two cold Vietnamese bottles of "33" beer.

My friend explained that the beer was juiced up with embalming fluid for extra kick. I'm not sure if it really contained formaldehyde but I drank it down. The first bottle of "Tiger Piss" went down and immediately another bottle showed up. He didn't have to explain anything about the girls.

Following my introduction to Saigon I was even more anxious to get to my detachment, even tough I didn't know anything about it. My orders only said, "APO 96236 unknown existence." The following Monday morning I was called to report to the orderly room for instructions and deployment.

In the orderly room I was shown a wall-map of southern Vietnam, the IV Corp area. The Sargent turned and pointed to a spot on the map marked Swissboy. I could see they were sending me to another remote radar site. "Can you tell me anything about the place, I asked?"

"We got you on the flight manifest to leave tomorrow for Swissboy control, detachment 1. Its on the island of Phu Quoc, about five miles off the coast of Cambodia. Report back here at 09:30 tomorrow, we'll drop you off at the in-country terminal for your flight."

Things were happening fast, I thanked him and started to leave but he stopped me. "On the island you'll be issued an M16, ammo, a helmet and flack jacket. There are only about three dozen airmen there, Swissboy is a forward air control post."

As I walked out the door I said to myself, "Well, you asked for adventure, and you got it."



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