The Extraordinary Banana Tree: A Novel

By Jim Farrell

The Extraordinary Banana Tree is not a war story. It is a love story in the time of war. It is the story of the developing love between Cheryl Flynn, Assistant Chief of Intelligence for the Defense Attaches Office in Saigon, and Billy Dobson, Manager of Flight Operations for Air America in Vietnam and Cambodia.

The story opens on April 4, 1975, with Cheryl boarding the giant C5A sent by Gerry Ford to rescue orphans from South Vietnam. The plane crashed 13 miles south of Saigon. Does Cheryl survive? Does anyone survive?

The story goes back in time and follows Cheryl and Billy on their paths to April 4 and to the eventual fall of Saigon on April 30, 1975. Does Billy have to face the last month alone or will Cheryl be at his side?

The story follows Billy from the seminary, to the Army, where he serves as Counterintelligence Officer for the 11th Armored Cav, sent into Cambodia by President Nixon, and eventually to Air America and his meeting with Cheryl Flynn at Nha Trang, paradise on the South China Sea.

The story exemplifies the horrors the war, the resilience of the human spirit, the bravery and unbelievable accomplishments of Air America personnel, and the power of love to make it all worthwhile. You will laugh, you will cry, you will love Cheryl and Billy. A very appropriate book for the 40th anniversary of the Fall of Saigon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491769904

Jim Farrell

Jim Farrell earned a master’s degree in accounting from the University of Rhode Island and a bachelor’s degree in philosophy from the Gregorian University in Rome, Italy. He spent eleven years in a Roman Catholic seminary, served as a captain in the U.S. Army, and worked with Air America in Vietnam. Now retired, he lives with his wife, Marianne Collinson, in Palm Coast, Florida. He has published four novels and two collections of short stories.

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THE EXTRAORDINARY BANANA TREE

A Novel

JIM FARRELL

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THE EXTRAORDINARY BANANA TREE

A NOVEL

Copyright © 2015 Jim Farrell.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-6991-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-6992-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-6990-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015909779

iUniverse rev. date: 7/15/2015

Contents

Prologue What did you do in the war, Daddy?

Chapter One How can something so good turn out so wrong?

Chapter Two From God’s Army to LBJ’s

Chapter Three Ni hao ma?

Chapter Four Electric Bestiality

Chapter Five Beginning of the End

Chapter Six The Eleventh Armored Cav????

Chapter Seven Cambodia and Kent State

Chapter Eight The Phoenix Program and the Happiness Bar

Chapter Nine Sun Moon Lake

Chapter Ten The Continuing Education of Billy Dobson

Chapter Eleven Light at the Top, Heavy at the Bottom

Chapter Twelve The Long Binh Bar

Chapter Thirteen Billy Dobson Falls in Love

Chapter Fourteen Hue and Danang Fall

Chapter Fifteen Billy Dobson in the Big Easy

Chapter Sixteen Billy Dobson Returns to the Paris of the Orient

Chapter Seventeen A Two-by-Four Upside the Head

Chapter Eighteen Back to the Beginning

Chapter Nineteen The Dangers of Second Hand Smoke

Chapter Twenty Oscar Mike

Chapter Twenty-One The Paris Peace Accords

Chapter Twenty-Two Love’s Alpha Point

Chapter Twenty-Three Shopping Among the Khmer Rouge

Chapter Twenty-Four Amazing Aircraft, That Caribou

Chapter Twenty-Five Déjà vu

Chapter Twenty-Six From Nadir to Zenith

Chapter Twenty-Seven The Final Days

Chapter Twenty-Eight I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I’m living. Les Miserables.

Chapter Twenty-Nine The Second Indochina War Comes to an End

Epilogue Ten Years Later

Dedicated to the brave men with whom I served

at Air America in Saigon,

especially Al Brau, Ralph Begien, and

Dave Tolliver;

to my wife, Marianne Collinson, who

supports me in everything I do;

to my cousin, Patty Gallagher,

my copy editor,

who finds things I miss

even after twenty readings;

to my good friend, Jim Villarreal,

who supports and encourages me

in my writing and who made many

invaluable suggestions for this book;

to my niece, Tara Collinson,

who is the model for Cheryl Flynn

on the front cover,

and

to her fiancé, Nick Giammarco,

who did the photography work

for the cover.

PROLOGUE

What did you do in the war, Daddy?

The Dobson children and most of Billy Dobson’s friends always assumed he had worked for the CIA during the time of the Vietnam War. Billy never claimed that he had, nor did he ever deny it. He just smiled when the topic was brought up and said, If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Then he would laugh.

Billy never used the phrase The Vietnam War. It was always just The War for him. As if there never were any other wars. Actually, for him there never were any other wars. Vietnam was his war.

What Billy’s children and friends did know was that he had served as a counterintelligence officer with the 541st Military Intelligence Detachment (MID) in Vietnam. The 541st MID was one of the units of the 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment. Billy still proudly wears his 11th Armored Cavalry watch, which, at first glance, looks like a Mickey Mouse watch, and his car displays an I RODE WITH THE BLACKHORSE sticker on the rear bumper. His friends and family also know that, after his service with the 11th Armored Cavalry, he was recruited by Air America to work in Saigon. [He wasn’t actually recruited by Air America, as you’ll see, but they all assumed that he had been.] And everyone knows, although no one connected with the government ever admits it publicly, that Air America was the CIA’s private airline in Southeast Asia. Billy worked for Air America, therefore … …

As further evidence, Billy has hanging on the wall of his den, among other treasured items, in a faux wooden frame purchased at Walmart, his diploma from the Phoenix (Phuong Hoang) School in Vung Tau, a beautiful Vietnamese city on the South China Sea. Vung Tau, a vacation spot for French officers, officials, businessmen, and plantation owners, was called Cap Saint Jacques when Vietnam was part of French Indochina. The Phoenix Program, a brainchild of the CIA, taught its trainees, among other things, how to neutralize National Liberation Front (Viet Cong) cadre by any means available, with extreme prejudice when necessary. Billy swears that he attended the school just to learn about the program so that he could work with others who were actively involved in the program. But would Billy admit to active involvement if such had actually been the case?

In truth Billy’s fondest memory of Vung Tau is his recollection of a young lady with the mysterious, dangerous, and exciting name of Tiger. She had no connection to the Phoenix Program or to the CIA. [You will get to meet Tiger a few times during the subsequent narrative.]

CHAPTER ONE

How can something so good turn out so wrong?

April 4, 1975

Stork 218, you are cleared for takeoff, Saigon Tower radioed to U.S. Air Force C5A 68-0218 at 4:03 P.M. Saigon time.

Roger that, Saigon Tower. Have a good day, responded the pilot, Captain Dennis Bud Traynor. Let’s get these kids to Clark, he said to his co-pilot, Captain Tilford Hays, referring to Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines, the plane’s destination.

The massive C5A, the largest flying object in the world at that time, was the first flight in Operation Babylift, President Gerry Ford’s humanitarian effort to bring Vietnamese orphans to America before the Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam) fell to the invading army from the Democratic Peoples’ Republic of Vietnam (North Vietnam). The flight had 247 orphans aboard; most were of mixed American-Vietnamese parentage. These children would not fare well under the Communists. In addition to the orphans, there were escorts on board, female employees of the Defense Attaché’s Office in Saigon, as well as a few nurses, American and Vietnamese, to take care of the children. Most of the escorts, nurses, and orphans, many just babies, sat in the plane’s huge hold which had been re-fitted for passengers after the gigantic plane dropped off military supplies in Saigon. A few escorts, orphans, and nurses were seated in the upper, rear passenger section of the giant aircraft.

Clark Center, Stork 218 checking in. Current flight level two-eight-zero on way to three-two-zero. Heading 136 degrees, called in Captain Traynor, letting the en route control center know their altitude and flight direction.

Roger that, Stork 218. We got you, replied the controller at Clark Center. Have a good flight.

Thank you, Clark Center, radioed Captain Traynor.

It looks so peaceful from the air, said co-pilot, Captain Hays, to his pilot, pointing to the Mekong River below.

I wouldn’t want to be on a pleasure boat down there, replied Captain Traynor.

"Are there any pleasure boats down there?" asked Captain Hays with a smile. His brother, a lieutenant, had served with the Navy on a gunboat in the Delta.

The giant plane flew over the coastline thirteen miles from Vung Tau and headed out over the South China Sea.

Weather looks fine all the way to Clark, said Captain Hays.

Should make for a nice flight for the babies, said Captain Traynor. And for the ladies from DAO.

At 4:15 P.M. all hell broke loose.

What the hell was that? asked Captain Traynor. An explosion, a loud explosion, had occurred in the rear of the plane. Captain Traynor, who had been looking at blue sky through his front window as the plane gained altitude, was now looking at the murky waters of the South China Sea through that same front window.

I don’t know, replied the co-pilot, Captain Hays, over the noise.

What neither the pilot nor co-pilot knew was that the rear cargo door and loading ramp at the back of the plane had blown off the aircraft. What was left was a gaping hole in the rear of the C5A. The lower hold area was in pandemonium. Seats, personal belongings, airplane debris, trays, seat cushions, loose clothing, baby supplies, DAO escorts, flight crew, and babies were being hurled around inside the airplane as if they were inside a tornado. All the children and quite a few of the adults were screaming. All the young children were pressing their hands to their ears. To everyone’s horror, a few women and babies had been sucked right out through the gap at the back of the plane.

Tan Son Nhut Tower, Tan Son Nhut Tower, May Day, May Day. This is Stork 218. There has been an explosion on board, and we are having serious trouble maintaining altitude, radioed the co-pilot, Captain Hays, as Captain Traynor attempted to stop or, at least, slow down the descent of the plane.

Can you make it back to Tan Son Nhut? queried the controller in Saigon.

I don’t know, but that is our goal, answered the co-pilot.

We have cleared Runway two-five left for you, said the controller.

Roger, we are attempting to turn this plane around without losing altitude.

Emergency personnel and firefighting equipment are heading out to two-five left at this time.

We’re going to need a lot of ambulances, Saigon, said the co-pilot, Captain Hays.

Roger that, Stork 218. God be with you.

I hope He is. Captain Hays then asked his pilot, How are we doing, Bud?

I don’t know if we can make it; we are losing altitude fast, said Captain Traynor. Do you think it was a VC rocket?

Would they shoot down a planeload of kids? asked Captain Hays.

You never know. We’re dropping too fast.

We’re at 7000 feet now, observed Captain Hays.

I can’t stop the loss of altitude. We’re down to 6000 feet now. Saigon Tower, Stork 218. We cannot reach Tan Son Nhut. We are going down in the rice paddies.

We have alerted Vietnamese Air Force Air Rescue. They are sending out helicopters to the expected crash sight.

Roger that.

At 4:45 P.M. while still traveling at a high speed, C5A 68-0218 touched ground in a rice paddy and skimmed like a flat stone thrown by a little boy at a lake. The huge aircraft bounced another half mile, over the Saigon River, and then plowed into another rice paddy, creating a ditch and burying most of the still-moving plane in the mud and the muck. The plane then hit a dyke and broke into four pieces.

Thus ended flight one of President Gerry Ford’s Operation Babylift.

Cheryl Flynn was aboard that plane. Cheryl worked with the Defense Attaché’s Office and had been selected as one of the escorts.

[Who is Cheryl Flynn, and why did I single her out? Let me introduce you to Cheryl Flynn. This will only be a brief introduction; I will flush out the details as the story develops.]

Cheryl came to Saigon at the end of March 1973 right after the conclusion of the Paris Peace Talks conducted by Henry Kissinger and Le Duc Tho. The Paris Peace Talks effectively ended American involvement in the Vietnam War, which caused the United States to close the mammoth Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV) Headquarters in Saigon and replace it with a much smaller operation, the Defense Attaché’s Office, a division of the Embassy, but housed in separate headquarters near Tan Son Nhut Airport.

Cheryl, a civilian employee of DAO, had the rank of GS-11, equivalent to the military rating of O-3, captain in the Army, lieutenant in the Navy. Cheryl worked in the Operations and Plans Division as Special Assistant to the Chief of Intelligence Branch. Though only 27 years old at the time, Cheryl had moved up rapidly since joining the agency. Her previous assignment was at the Defense Language Institute West Coast in Monterey, California, where she studied Vietnamese for a year. She was conversant, not fluent, in the language. This made her, at that time in history when the American military was pulling out of Vietnam, one of only a handful of Americans who had the ability to communicate with the locals in their native tongue.

In addition to the main headquarters in Saigon, DAO had set up smaller offices throughout the country, in Danang, Pleiku, Nha Trang, and Can Tho among other cities. Air America also had operational stations at the airports in those cities in addition to their primary base in Saigon. It is this fact that brings Cheryl into our story, which is primarily about Billy Dobson.

In April 1973 Cheryl and her immediate superior, the Chief of Intelligence Branch, visited the newly established outlying sites of DAO. The Chief wanted to introduce Cheryl to the Intelligence Branch representative and the station chief at each site and to acquaint her with the local CIA Operations Officers and Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) intelligence contacts. They made their rounds on an Air America Volpar turbo-jet. The plane and the pilot were reserved for their private use during the two weeks of the in-country visits.

Cheryl and the Chief made their overnight stop at Nha Trang during the final week of April. Nha Trang was a little piece of paradise, uncorrupted by American military involvement, on the South China Sea a little north of Cam Ranh Bay, the huge military port facility. Its white sandy beaches, warm clear water, and perpetual sunshine, combined with some of the best French and Vietnamese restaurants in Vietnam, made Nha Trang a tempting getaway spot for Air America employees. Billy Dobson had, purely serendipitously, picked that same time to escape to Nha Trang. He and Cheryl met on the beach the day Cheryl arrived, hit it off immediately, had dinner together in a local Vietnamese restaurant that evening, and began the relationship that was to become the talk of Saigon.

That’s how Cheryl Flynn entered this story about Billy Dobson.

Billy, Cheryl, and Winston E. Buckingham, known as Web to his friends, were having dinner at Saigon’s The Floating Restaurant two days before C5A 68-0218 was scheduled to inaugurate Operation Babylift. Web was the Intel Officer for Air America, the liaison between Air America Ops and the CIA Operations Chief at the Embassy. Web stopped at the Embassy early each morning for a briefing before heading to the airport where he then briefed the Air America Operations Managers and pilots. No Air America plane could take off unless the pilot and co-pilot, on flights that had a co-pilot, had briefed with Web.

Billy had been promoted to Manager of Flight Operations for Air America in Vietnam and Cambodia by that time. Although Web ostensibly worked for Billy, everyone knew that he effectively worked for the Saigon CIA Operations Chief, Ed Conley.

The Floating Restaurant offered Chinese and Vietnamese specialties, but the selling point of the restaurant was the location. Situated on the Saigon River, it provided a welcome breeze, a fantastic view of the city, and occasional unpleasant smells to the diners. The food was very good, four star quality, and the unpleasant smells were relatively rare.

Billy and Cheryl had been living together for almost two years at that time, ever since they returned to Saigon from Nha Trang. They had gotten engaged in December 1974.

All three were drinking ice cold Ba Muoi Ba beers, beer 33, the local brew of choice, and munching on cha gio (pronounced cha yaw), fried Vietnamese spring rolls. The cha gio, each about two inches long, came six to an order.

How many orders should we get? Cheryl had asked Billy and Web.

Three, said Billy.

Three, said Web.

"Ba cha gio, said Cheryl to the waitress. (Three orders of cha gio.")

They had no problem finishing the eighteen cha gio.

The Chinese/Vietnamese wait staff at The Floating Restaurant loved Cheryl and Billy who ate there often. Cheryl spoke to them in Vietnamese, and Billy in Chinese. Billy loved to watch Cheryl speak Vietnamese. How can such an ugly, strident language come out of such a beautiful mouth? he asked himself. If Cheryl was conversant in Vietnamese when she arrived in country in 1973, by 1975 she was fluent.

[You’ll learn later where Billy learned to speak Chinese. He was fluent and had a good working knowledge of the characters. He even could read a Chinese newspaper.]

The fact that Billy had invited Web to join them for dinner was not just a friendly gesture, although it definitely was that. The Chief of Intelligence at DAO had offered Cheryl a chance to escort the orphans out of Saigon on the initial flight on April 4th. His primary motivation was to get her out of country. He could see the handwriting on the wall. Cheryl was reluctant to leave Billy behind. Billy wanted Web to convince her she should go. That’s why they were sitting together on the Saigon River devouring the cha gio and drinking Ba Muoi Ba.

Your people know as much as our friends at the embassy, Cheryl, said Web. The North Vietnamese Army is just rolling toward Saigon. The ARVN are not going to stop them. And, despite protestations from President Ford, Congress is not going to let him do anything at this stage to help the ARVN.

But Graham Martin is so optimistic, said Cheryl. Don’t you think as Ambassador he has some inside information?

My friends at the embassy call him ‘the dreamer’. He’s not just mouthing the official line; he actually believes the U. S. will stand behind its commitments.

Why do you think your boss wants you on that flight? asked Billy. He knows the end is near.

How can I leave you here? How can I abandon you if everything’s going to hell? asked Cheryl.

I’ll get out. I control the Air America planes and helicopters. I’ll get out. Don’t worry about me.

I believe that, but the thought of losing you, of you being stuck in Saigon and captured by the VC or NVA soldiers fills me with dread.

Fills you with dread? That’s almost poetic, said Billy.

Pascal, said Cheryl. He was referring to the immensity of the universe, but it does apply here.

Don’t worry about me. There is no way I’m not getting out of Saigon knowing you are waiting for me in Manila. What do you suggest, Web?

Get on that plane, Cheryl. It could be chaotic if the ARVN keep retreating. In fact, it will be a lot easier for Billy to get out if he doesn’t have to worry about you.

Okay, I’ll get on that flight as an escort and wait for you in the Philippines. And if you don’t show up, I’ll come back here and kill you.

Good decision, Cheryl, said Web. Not the coming back to kill him, but the getting on that flight.

Billy reached over and squeezed her hand. It’s the right thing, Cheryl. And I promise you I will join you in the Philippines.

Now let’s order the main course, said Web.

Whew, what’s that smell? asked Cheryl.

Just the Saigon River at night, laughed Billy.

Not the main course, I hope, added Web.

Billy drove Cheryl to the military side of Tan Son Nhut Airport in their used Renault at one in the afternoon on the 4th of April. Both he and Cheryl loved the Renault. It was a 1965 model that Billy bought from a Frenchman who had been the owner of a rubber plantation during the colonial days. As long as you regularly added oil, it was totally reliable, a requirement for a car in Saigon where you couldn’t call AAA if you broke down. Since Billy and Cheryl knew that he would be getting out in a hurry and probably on a helicopter, they packed everything of value that they owned in Cheryl’s two suitcases. It’s amazing that two people can fit all their important belongings in two suitcases, but war pares one down to the necessities.

The 247 orphans arrived in six blue buses at two o’clock. At three o’clock the crew began loading the children and the escorts. Cheryl had been assigned a seat in the upstairs rear passenger section of the mammoth plane.

God, I feel like a traitor, running out on you like this, she said, hugging Billy and crying.

I’m just glad you’re getting out now, before the chaos begins, he said.

They hugged and kissed and cried. Then Cheryl had to break away to board the plane.

She blew him a kiss as she headed toward the C5A.

He cried out, See you in Manila, Honey. I love you.

I love you too, she shouted back, but he couldn’t hear her. He knew what she said, however.

After the plane took off, Billy drove over to The Gray House, the Air America club/restaurant/bachelors’ quarters five minutes from the airport. Since he was not on duty that day, he bought a cold beer, Budweiser this time, and sat in the lounge with Graham Greene’s The Quiet American to pass the time until dinner.

Five minutes after he arrived, Arnie Brewer, one of the two Operations Managers who worked for him, rushed into The Gray House calling out, Anyone seen Billy Dobson?

Yeah, he’s in the lounge, said one of the pilots.

As Arnie ran into the lounge, Billy could tell something bad had happened. Did one of our choppers go down? he thought.

Billy, Danny just called me. He was trying to get you at home, but there was no answer. He asked me to come here to see if you were here, Arnie said, all out of breath.

Danny Collinson, the other Operations Manager for Air America, was on duty that day at Tan Son Nhut Airport.

Slow down, Arnie, slow down. What is it? Is a chopper missing? asked Billy.

No, Billy, no. The C5A went down. In a rice paddy south of Saigon, said Arnie.

Oh my God! Cheryl’s on that plane, shouted Billy.

I know. We all know, said Arnie.

Can we drive out there? asked Billy.

No. There are no roads near the crash site. Even the Vietnamese Air Rescue helicopters can’t land right at the site. ARVN has sent in about 100 soldiers to secure the area.

Are there any survivors? asked Billy.

We don’t know yet, but it doesn’t sound good, said Arnie.

I talked her into getting on that damn plane. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay here with me. I thought that she would be better off getting out now, said Billy. Was it a VC rocket?

No one knows anything at this time, said Arnie. There’s nothing we can do now but wait. But Danny wanted you to know. I’m so sorry, Billy.

Billy was numb. He could not believe this had happened. What can I do? he thought. Then the obvious answer, the only answer, came to him. He turned to Arnie and said, I’m going home to get my radio, and then I’m going to do something I don’t do as much as I should anymore.

What’s that? asked Arnie.

I’m going to pray. Tell Danny I’ll be at the little Our Lady of Peace Chapel near my house. I’ll have the radio on. Ask him to contact me as soon as he hears anything.

I will. And I’ll pray too, Billy. It had been a long time since Arnie Brewer said a prayer. He wasn’t even sure that there was anyone or anything to pray to. But he would say a prayer for Cheryl. He had promised Billy, and he would.

You know, right now I wish our military were still here. I would feel so much better with our military people conducting the search and rescue operation, observed Billy.

I know what you mean, said Arnie.

Billy went home, got his radio, made sure it was on, and then drove to Our Lady of Peace Chapel. There were two elderly Vietnamese ladies in the chapel kneeling near the altar. Billy put a five hundred Dong note, not quite fifty cents in value, in the box under the candle tray and lit one of the candles. There was a box of little wax coated matches next to the tray. I haven’t done that in a long time. The five hundred Dong note was the most beautiful piece of paper money Billy had ever seen. It had a full color tiger covering the entire back of the note. One of the old ladies turned to look at him. When she saw he had lit a candle and was kneeling to pray, she smiled and turned back to her own prayers.

Dear Lord, the crash of the C5A has filled me with dread. (He thought of Cheryl at The Floating Restaurant when she had said that, and his eyes filled with tears.) I have no one to turn to but You. It is my fault Cheryl got on that plane. Don’t punish her for my poor judgment. If it is Your will, let her walk away from that crash site without injury.

But, in any case, let her survive that crash, and I will care for her for the rest of my life. No matter what her condition, I will care for her for the rest of my life. That is my promise to You. And to her. Just let her survive.

And if she is willing, we will come to this chapel and get married.

He then broke out in sobs. The two elderly ladies looked at him and at each other. Let us add his intentions to our prayers, said one to the other.

[Why was this little chapel the natural place for Billy Dobson to enter in his time of need? Let me give you a short synopsis of Billy’s early life.] He was thinking of his past as he sat in the chapel. How the hell did I end up here? he thought. God had played a major role during his formative years. Although God no longer occupied the primary place He once occupied, He was still very much there within Billy. Maybe He still did occupy that primary place. Maybe He always occupies that primary place even if we do not acknowledge Him or even realize that He is there.

Billy entered the minor seminary after completing 8th grade in a Catholic grammar school. Daily Mass, daily meditation, and daily community prayer became part of his life in addition to the rigorous academic program of the seminary.

When he was in tenth grade, and his close friend, Pancho Ruiz, was in ninth grade, a flu epidemic broke out at the seminary. Billy, Pancho, and three other boys were confined to the infirmary, and Billy had been delirious. Suddenly Billy, covered in sweat, sat up in bed and cried out, I will give my soul for a Coke. The four other boys were frightened. They all prayed. Pancho woke Billy and asked if he knew what he had said. Of course Billy did not. Pancho swears to this day that it happened. Billy has his doubts. It’s not the kind of thing I would do, he says.

He smiled as he thought about that day in the infirmary. Would he offer his soul now for Cheryl’s safety? Probably not. His life, yes. His soul, no. If the soul and an afterlife exist, which he believed they did, then giving up his soul wouldn’t be good for him or for Cheryl in the long run. It might mean an eternity apart from each other.

After his second year of college, he spent a year in Novitiate, a time of prayer, work, religious instruction, and silence. At the end of that year, he took temporary vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience as a Salvatorian Scholastic. The Salvatorians are a Catholic religious order specializing in missionary and teaching work. Student members of the order are called Scholastics.

After Novitiate he was chosen by his superiors to spend two years in Rome, from 1963 to 1965. In Rome, at the Gregorian University, he studied Thomistic Philosophy, the philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas. During his first year, he scored a 10 out of 10 on the oral, end-of-the-year exams given in Latin. He was the first Salvatorian Scholastic ever to accomplish that feat. [This ability to test well would also come in very handy in Officer Candidate School a few years later as you will see. It might very well have saved his life.]

He was in Rome on November 22, 1963, when President Kennedy was assassinated. [This would have a major impact on his future life although he had no idea of that at the time.]

He was also in Rome during the Second Vatican Council.

I think the Salvatorians had great plans for William Dobson, but they were not to be.

After Rome Billy taught in a Salvatorian high school in Milwaukee for two years, at the end of which time he decided to discontinue his studies for the priesthood. He still had four years of study (Theology) before he would have been ordained a priest, but the time was at hand to take his final vows. He did not see a problem with the poverty or the obedience, but it was otherwise with the chastity. He knew that two out of three was just not acceptable to the Church. Oh, he was still chaste at that point in his life, but perpetual chastity, well, he did not think he could live with that.

[I’ll pick up the narration from that point in the next chapter.]

All of this was running through Billy’s head as he sat and prayed in Our Lady of Peace Chapel. How his life had changed from then to now!

Then his radio beeped. The two old ladies, startled, turned and looked at him, but he didn’t even notice them. Dobson here, he said into the radio.

Billy, Danny here. We just got word from the ARVN. There are survivors.

Cheryl? Is Cheryl on the list? cried out Billy.

We don’t have any names. Get out here to the airport right away. They will be flying in the survivors soon.

On my way. Thanks, Danny. As always, the Renault started right up.

CHAPTER TWO

From God’s Army to LBJ’s

June 1967 – February 1969

When Billy Dobson decided to leave the seminary, he was not quite twenty-five years old. His spiritual advisor, one of the priests teaching at the high school, advised him to join the Peace Corps.

That will be a good transition for you from seminary life to civilian life, and it will keep you out of Vietnam, advised the priest.

Billy had never given Vietnam much thought. He knew many college students, his contemporaries, were against the war. He heard the chants of Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today? on the news each night.

After eleven years of seminary life, life devoted to God and Love, you can’t just change what you are and go to Vietnam and start killing people, counselled the priest.

With the priest’s guidance and assistance, Billy sent a letter to the Peace Corps. Two weeks later, a reply came:

June 26, 1967

William Dobson,

It is with great pleasure that we accept your application to serve in the Peace Corps. Your background and training make you the ideal candidate for this program dedicated to spreading peace and friendship throughout the world.

Enclosed is a plane ticket from Milwaukee to San Diego for July 13, 1967. You will be met at the airport in San Diego and transferred to our training facility east of San Diego.

We have assigned you to the training program for Lesotho. You will spend six months learning the language and customs of the people. You will work as a teacher of English and other assignments as designated by your supervisor in Lesotho.

Sincerely,

Melanie Bell

Director of Training

On July 13, Billy flew to San Diego where he was met by a young couple. They drove him in a van to a Peace Corps camp in the semi-desert an hour east of the city. Billy was already having second thoughts. What am I doing, going from the seminary to the desert and then to Lesotho? I never even heard of Lesotho.

The next day he was introduced to the language of Lesotho. It had clicks! The following morning, without the young priest around to dissuade him, he resigned. The Peace Corps did give him airfare back to his parents’ home in New York and informed him that they would notify the draft board immediately of his change in status.

He took an aptitude test with AT&T and was hired as a systems analyst trainee. He started work in downtown Manhattan with their long lines division. AT&T assumed that, because of his age, he would not be drafted. They were wrong.

The letter came six days after he started with AT&T:

July 27, 1967

William Dobson

Your classification has been changed from 4D (Divinity Student) to 1A.

Report for you induction physical on August 1, 1967, at Fort Hamilton, NY

Billy weighed his options: report for the induction physical, which he knew he would pass, and spend two years as an enlisted man, probably a private in the infantry, or enlist and sign up for Officer Candidate School (OCS), and spend four years as an officer. Billy decided the second choice was the better one for him, and he enlisted and signed up for OCS. He was told to report for induction on September 1, 1967. He would spend two months at Fort Gordon, Georgia, for basic training, followed by two months of Advanced Individual Training (AIT) at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. Then he would begin his six months of Engineering Officer Candidate School on January 2, 1968, at Fort Belvoir, Virginia.

The four months of basic training and AIT were uneventful, and he reported to Fort Belvoir on January 2, 1968, as directed. It was at that point that his life began to change. For the better? At first Billy did not think so, but, looking back, he concluded that his life was much richer due to the decision to become an officer.

Why did he not think so initially? Because the first two months of OCS were pure hell. The candidates did not wear any insignia on their uniform collars and were called Beans by the upper classmen and the TAC officers, the recently graduated second lieutenants who ran the program. Beans were not allowed to speak, unless spoken to by an upper classman, and the person speaking to them placed his face one inch in front of the face of the Bean. In addition, for some unknown reason, the speaker yelled. Always yelled. Always sprayed the Bean with spittle. The Beans ran everywhere and were so harassed at meals that, if the Bean were lucky, he was able to finish half his meal. And push-ups! Billy never did so many push-ups in his life. No matter what you did or said, it was wrong, and the punishment was push-ups. Give me ten, Bean. Give me twenty-five, Bean. The only relief was the classroom activity where they were taught principles of military field engineering.

Billy went to his TAC officer after one month. Sir, I don’t think I can take any more of this.

What, Dobson, are you too good for this? asked the TAC Officer.

No, Sir.

Then what, Dobson?

I don’t see the point of it, Sir.

"You’re not supposed to see the point of it, Dobson. Do you think you know more than the senior officers who put this program together?"

No, Sir.

Then what?

Billy remained silent.

Then what, Dobson?

I don’t know, Sir.

Let me ask you something, Dobson. How many candidates are there in your class?

Thirty four, Sir.

How many do you think have come to see me about quitting?

I don’t know, Sir.

Thirty one, and the other three will be coming soon, I guarantee you that.

Billy was stunned.

Everyone wants to quit at some point during the first two months. If you really want to quit, come back and see me a second time, and then you’ll be a private again. But for now, go back to your unit.

Yes, Sir.

And Dobson …

Yes, Sir?

In my opinion you’ll make a fine officer. And you’ll only be a Bean for another month. It does get better, and it’s worth it.

Thank you, Sir.

Billy never went back to see the TAC Officer. And it did get better. During the second two months, the candidates wore white tabs on their uniform collars. They still took shit from the red tabs and the TAC Officers, but they passed it down to the new Beans.

For the final two months, the candidates wore red tabs on their collars and dished it out to the Beans and the white tabs. The TAC Officers took it easy on the red tabs. They were almost officers after all.

Billy and another red tab were walking (not running!) back to their barracks one dark evening when a white tab, not noticing the red tab on Billy’s collar, screamed at Billy, Get over here, Bean. Why aren’t you running? As Billy approached, the white tab saw that Billy actually had a red tab on his collar. The white tab snapped to attention and, filled with fear, said, Excuse me, Sir, I thought you were a Bean.

A vindictive red tab would have been all over the white tab, but Billy just said, You know what Thought did, don’t you? He peed in his pants and thought it was sweat. Be more careful next time. Now get out of here. It was hard to be mean after eleven years in the seminary.

Billy’s fellow red tab said, ’You know what Thought did, don’t you?’ Where did that come from?

I didn’t mean to say that. My mother used to say that when I was a kid. It just came out, Billy answered.

"Try to keep it in the next time." They both laughed.

At the conclusion of the program, the graduate with the highest average score in physical training, the graduate with the highest average score in classroom activity, and the graduate with the highest combined average score picked their own branch. The other graduates were commissioned as the Army saw fit, most from Fort Belvoir as Combat Engineer second lieutenants. Combat Engineer second lieutenants had as high a mortality rate