Arky51's Blog

People still ask me, thirty-seven years after I returned, "What was it like in Vietnam?"

Well, I have to say that, even though I quit living there some years back, we still tend to remember the more pleasant episodes of an unpleasant period of time.  As I say, I quit living there some years back, and I quit most of the undesirable behaviors I picked up there, more than twenty years ago, and would not go back to them for anything.

Still, the following is reflective of some fond memories.

The Vietnam Rag

So, when I arrived in Vietnam,
I hardly got the chance to see Saigon.
They lined us up and called the roll,
And sent us out on Long Patrol;
Swattin' flies, and swappin' lies,
And firing the odd shot here and there.

'Bout dark the Capt'n halted our platoon,
And we sat down to eat in the light of the moon;
A lovely meal they'd prepared for us,
It tasted like the seat on a crosstown bus.
Some of the veterans left theirs in the cans
For the Viet Cong to find;
Said that was deadlier than a land mine.

After the meal, someone told a joke,
And, naturally, some lit up to smoke;
A curious smile on the Capt'n's face,
It smelled like midnight on St. Mark's place.
Then, as their cloud went driftin' by,
My nose went up like an infield fly.

Now, the Capt'n, he's a blond cat from Yale.
He's sitting there cross legged,
Chanting Hare Krishna,
And cleaning his weapon.
He looked right at me and says,
"Whatsa matter with you, baby?"

I said, "I could be crazy, but I think not;
I'd swear to God that I smell pot.
But, who'd have pot in Vietnam?"
And, he said, "Whadaya think you been sittin' on?"
I lit my light and scoped about me,
I was singin' out, "Pas-tures of plen-ty!"

Well, my time came, as it comes to all,
I had to answer Nature's call.
Stumbled into the bush in a beautiful haze,
And met this little dude in Black PJ's,
He had a rifle, an ammo belt,
and BF Goodrich sandles.

Dogged if he didn't look right at me and say,
"Whatsa matter with you, baby?"
He says, "My squad is campin' down the path,
and smelled you boys a blowin' grass.
Since by the smell you are a doin' trash,
We brought you a taste of our special stash;
Straight from Uncle Ho's Victory Garden,
We call it Hanoi Gold."

So, my squad and his squad settled down,
and passed some lovely stuff around.
But, all too soon, it was time to go,
and the Capt'n got on the radio, and said,
"Hel-lo-oh Head-quarters. We have met the enemy,
And he is smashed!"

Sometimes, when I am looking around at America, thinking about what the Politicians, the ACLU, Madison Avenue, and Hollywood (not to mention CBS News) have brought us to, I kinda wish my name was on the Wall, so I wouldn't be looking at the very real possibility that this Nation will fail.  Don't worry, if I were going to commit suicide, I would have joined my Buds a long ago (more died after returning, than over there).   
. . . I have not abandoned, and never will abandon my Oath to Protect and Defend this Nation and its Constitution against all enemies, DOMESTIC and Foreign.

If I'm not mistaken, GWB's Papa was a Senator, at the time, and used his Congressional Clout (again, if I am not mistaken) contrary to his son's wishes. No matter, though - just as you say, he did not serve active duty.

Bill Clinton, on the other hand, having gone from Georgetown University (1968), to attending Oxford University (England) as a Rhodes scholar, was using his status there to arrange a trip to Moscow while we were in Vietnam. It is also recently published that he was recruited by the CIA, at the same time, to report on American Students protesting against the war.

The question: Who got him first? . . . the KGB, or the CIA. Ver-r-r-ry Interesting.

And John Kerry, after tossing his medals over the fence, met with Viet Cong Officials in Paris, shortly afterward. I can't help but wonder if Bill Clinton was his handler.