Three Day Pass

By Robert L. Nolan

The story is set in Bangkok in 1968 during the height of the Vietnam War. Three young G.I.s who are stationed in North Central Thailand decide to take a rare three day pass to the capital to sight see and enjoy the famous Bangkok nightlife.

The story goes as expected until one of the servicemen meets a very special and unusual woman. From that point the story becomes a love story, a coming of age story and a story of enlightenment.

The story covers Army life on and off the post. It describes Bangkok in 1968 and it also shows what soldiers on Rest & Relaxation from the nearby war in Vietnam experienced.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert L. Nolan
• Release date: Feb 26, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370775477

Robert L. Nolan

Robert L. Nolan, known as Lee to friends and family, spent over twenty years in Broadcast Journalism. After more than two decades writing non fiction he is now free to pursue his first love, writing fiction. Lee and his wife Betty reside in St Petersburg Florida spending their summer months in Copper Harbor MI on the Upper Peninsula in a tiny cottage along Lake Superior. In addition to writing Lee enjoy tennis, hiking and biking. Feel free to contact Lee at: [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter One

I was too young to die. I bet everyone under the age of ninety thinks that. I smiled inwardly, I often use humor to try and defuse fear. My fear needed a companion and so I turned to my best friend and said simply but emphatically, Rick this is really starting to scare the shit out of me.

Rick was only nineteen, one year my junior. His long thin skull with a protruding nose gave him a hatchet head. These detrimental features were more than offset by his sandy hair, knowing eyes, and ready warm smile. Rick had the everyman look; he was the all-American boy. Yeah, Tom I know what you mean. And what a bummer huh. We die here and we won’t even get a medal or a hero’s funeral. Rick’s smile lacked sincerity. Still I appreciated his attempt at gallows humor. As I thought about it though, it seemed to me death was the great equalizer. It didn’t really matter whether we died here on a mountain road in Northeast Thailand or in a rice paddy in Vietnam.

Rick and I both glanced across the aisle at the senior member of our trio. Ernie was twenty-four and a college graduate. The age difference was not large. Four years viewed against a lifetime is but a moment, but it was an eon in the life of three young American soldiers. Ernie was the unspoken leader of our group.

He seemed mature beyond his years, and Rick and I were both glad when he decided to join our adventure. We were off on a rare three-day pass to explore the capital city. Bangkok was a magic place in 1968, and we had been planning for this trip for several weeks. Planning is easy for testosterone-laden G. I’s - sightseeing by day and chasing some of the famous Bangkok poontang by night. Rick and I left the details to Ernie. We respected his education and instinctively knew that while we were focused on the poontang, Ernie would make sure we didn’t miss the cultural experience of a lifetime.

Ernie do you think this bus can stay on the road?

Yeahhh. His head never turned, his eyes never met ours. His white knuckles and stare provided little solace. Ernie was clearly as frightened as we were. There is nothing like a genuine fear of death to make one feel alive. Our journey was off to an excellent start. We were alive!

The rickety old Thai bus was crammed with natives and us three farangs as the Thais called foreigners. I didn’t need to be fluent in Thai to understand the depth and breadth of the terror that enveloped us. The suspension in the old motor vehicle was inadequate, but the bus continued to lurch around the twisting mountain road at breakneck speed. Some of the curves provided panoramic vistas that were both magnificent and frightening. It was all too easy to imagine how the long drop might feel if the bus left the highway.

Oh shit, look at this! cried Rick. We’re going to die. Up ahead I could see two cars, side by side, heading straight for the bus. There was no room left on the narrow road and a head-on crash was imminent. The Thai driver took his hands off the steering wheel and grabbed the golden Buddha hanging from the chain around his neck, apparently turning the situation over to divine intervention.

Look at that idiot ass! I cried in a voice filled with fear and anger. I would have preferred a more practical and less spiritual approach to the dilemma. The distance between the two cars and the bus was quickly shrinking. The bus driver simply held on to Buddha and kept his foot on the gas pedal. At the last possible moment, the car in the lane occupied by the bus, completed his pass, swerved violently back ahead of the other car and narrowly averted a catastrophic collision. The bus driver smiled and took his hands from the golden Buddha, his faith vindicated, he replaced them on the steering wheel. Rick, Ernie, and I felt no such proof of a miracle, we were still relieved to be alive. The whole experience had taken place in seconds that seemed like hours. The close call was just another episode that cemented the friendship of three young men.

At last we came down out of the mountains. The change in the countryside was dramatic. Lush green fields of rice began filling in the gentle valleys framed by undulating foothills. The shifting waves were occasionally flecked with primitive farm huts floating in the sea of green. The rocking of the bus and the monotony combined with a heavy blanket of humidity to produce a narcotic effect. As I peered around the bus it seemed as though a fog of anesthesia gas had spread throughout. One after another the passengers nodded off into a bouncing slumber. As I peered past Rick’s face across the aisle I saw Ernie looking back at me with a big smile. Rick’s head had dropped, his chin now resting on his chest. A long strand of drool hung from his mouth, which gaped above his slack jaw. As I drifted back into my own reverie, I pondered the relationship between humor and embarrassment. Would Rick have resented being the object of our comedy at such a vulnerable moment? Did it matter? As they say ignorance is bliss, and though Rick’s head bumped around and spread his slobber, at least he was not bored or frightened. I was simply anxious. Bangkok was still an hour away.

I smiled as I recalled the trips of my youth when I wore out my parents with that typical question, Are we there yet?

The foothills began to disappear and villages dotted the horizon, as the landscape bustled with human activity. Are we there yet? No, but almost. We had finally reached the suburbs of Bangkok. I jostled Rick awake, and