A US NAVAL ADVISOR IN VIETNAM: A YOUNG NAVY MAN'S YEARLONG ODYSSEY AS A US NAVAL ADVISOR IN VIETNAM

By James Washington

About the Book:

The story of how a young Navy man ended up in Vietnam. It has humor & wit, excitement, danger, romance, and the evils of drug abuse. You will laugh and cry also. This is a story that should be told.

About the Author:

This 82-year-old Navy veteran retired after 20 years. Duri

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Washington
• Release date: Aug 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781088065204

James Washington

James A. Washington is a former professional, collegiate, and playground basketball player, and a first-time author born and raised in Harlem, New York. A graduate of the High School of Music and Art, Washington has a unique blend of personal and professional skills not often captured in a writer or author. As a high-performing athlete, he's experienced the joy of pure competition as well as values predicated upon the dedication, sacrifice, and discipline required to become exceptional in his sport. As an artist, he has received a formal education in graphic design and has used his creative passion as a perfect counterbalance to his athletic life. James has written several articles for publication for The New Pittsburgh Courier and in various industry circles. He is currently a contractor at NASA where he has worked for the last fifteen years.

Book preview

A US Naval Advisor In Vietnam

A Young Navy Man’s Yearlong Odyssey

As A US Naval Advisor In Vietnam

James Washington, Jr., HM1/USN/Ret

A Novel

Dear Reader:

This is a book of fiction, loosely based on memories, things I saw, or heard talked about. A book that I hope will give a little insight on what went on in the lives and minds of Naval Advisors in Vietnam. Enjoy!!

I would also love to give thanks and appreciation to my wife, Pat, for the patience she had with me for all those times when I would isolate myself trying to Just let me get a few more pages done. Also, Fanny Pearce for the needed advice and encouragement she offered. Also, my son, James. Plus, Joe, Scotty, and Jim, but mainly thank all of my fellow Sailors who earned that Patch of a US Naval Advisor.

Copyright 2022 by

James Washington, Jr

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the author.

ISBN: 979-8-218-05884-5

Printed in the United States of America

Published by Book Marketeers.com

Chapter One

So, this in Vietnam. Don’t look too damn dangerous to me I said to myself as I looked out of the window of the big, gray smoke-filled military bus. There was a mixture just about every cologne or after-shave the PX sold mixed with body odor. It appeared that everyone wanted to leave his mark in history. The seat backs had all kinds of graffiti scribbled on them. There were also High School and college Alma Maters displayed, Bruins Forever, Go Cats. I even saw a very telling message "What the fuck am I doing here? At six-two and 218 pounds, I was cramped in the small seats, holding my Seabag, an overnight bag, a shaving kit, (or Douch bag") as we called them, plus 3 or 4 magazines in my lap didn’t help any.

The weather was hot and humid. I guess that was typical weather for September in Vietnam. The occasional little breeze that would blow in the windows was just enough to pass through our fatigue jackets and use the accumulated sweat to cool us down temporarily. There was the heavy smell of Old Spice, Aqua Velva, funk and God only knows what else. The bus snaked its way through the bumpy, narrow streets trying to avoid an occasional water buffalo or pedestrian. Bicycles and motorbikes were zipping by like bees pestering a larger clumsy animal. Kids were running along with the bus, playing tag with it and holding out their hands for favors from the GIs, just like in the movies.

There were about fifteen or twenty of us on the bus and no one was talking. We were all staring out of the windows through thick clouds of cigarette smoke trying to hide our fear and anticipation from the next guy. After we left the confines of the Tan Son Nhut Air Base, there was an agricultural area, and then small houses and huts began to appear. It was not unlike any other poor, underdeveloped country I had seen or read about. This wasn't my first tour outside CONUS (Continental United States), but it was my first tour in a war zone. It reminded me somewhat of Olongopoo, in the Philippines, or Kelung, Formosa. What I didn't see through were signs of war. I expected to see soldiers all around and hear guns and explosions, and all the sounds of war.

I came here to be a U.S. Advisor and I knew I'd be damn good at it because I was near the top of my class in C.I.(Counterinsurgency) School, plus I really believed in why we were here. I expected to be out in the bush dealing with the Vietnamese, that's why I was taught to speak, read, and write the language. Like a lot of the guys in our CI class who were sent to Vietnam, I too was apprehensive, but I thought I was well prepared for the task at hand. I really bought into all the stuff they told us at Coronado, back in California.

There were tons of GIs on the Air Force base where the airfield was, it was just like any stateside Base. We didn’t get to see much of it because as soon as we were off the plane we were herded into a room where they took all of our American money and exchanged it for Script or MPC (Military Payment Certificates). It was all paper money, $20, $10, $5, and $1. It looked like Monopoly Money, with pictures of Vietnamese notables on them. We were told in no uncertain terms that this was the only money we could have in Vietnam, and it was a Federal Offense to even have US money (Green Backs) in-country. Some of the money (MPC) was in Vietnamese money (Piasters) or Dong, but the GIs shortened it to just plain P’s.

After we left the main gate, it was just countryside with what I guessed were rice paddies, the occasional South Vietnamese Police Officer or two in a jeep, wearing white uniforms (Later I found out that the nickname for these guys was White Mice), and farms with Vietnamese walking behind huge water buffalos in rice paddies. I fully expected we would have had to don flak jackets and helmets as soon as we left the airport.

Soon we were in a residential area of better-looking houses, and then all of a sudden, we were in the middle of a bustling, seedy, little metropolitan area of bars, hotels, shops, stores, restaurants, street vendors, and all the trappings of a busy city ghetto. If this was Saigon, it must have been deep in the ghetto part of town.

This can’t be Saigon, I thought to myself. I had seen pictures of Saigon and it seemed more modern than this place. Still, it was one of the strangest places that I had ever been in my whole 26 years of life. If this was a war zone, where the fuck was the war? But anyway, I'm here now, in the middle of Vietnam, Thelonious M. Fletcher, a Navy Hospital Corpsman, First Class, from Hanover, Texas. I guess I was the Black GI who would conquer Vietnam.

I hadn't even been out of Texas until I joined the Navy 10 years ago, straight out of High School, at age 17, my parents had to sign for me, and if I had gotten that job on campus at Prairie View A&M College I wouldn’t be here now. But in those 10 years I had really learned how to survive in the big city, it just kind of came natural to me, plus most of the guys I ran with after I got in the Navy were big city street types with a lot of savvy and I was taught well. But most of all, earlier in my career I had a couple of Sea Daddies: these are older Sailors, (Lifers, we called them) who would take a young Sailor under his wings and teach him the ropes.

I guess old Fred Sanderson, 2nd Class Engineman, saw this green country boy from Texas and figured he’d teach him something. They teach you how to deal with stuff, and deal with the ladies, how to handle yourself in all kinds of environments, and how not be taken advantage of. More importantly, they schooled you in on ways to deal with your military superiors and how to avoid most of the military red tape that confounds so many young guys, mainly dealing with the ladies. I remember many times Fred would tell me Don't let pussy rule you, young blood, that's what screws up most of you young dudes: Young, dumb, full of fun, and love to cum. They think the sun rises and sets between woman's legs. It'll come in time, but be cool, act like you did it before an’ just let it happen, don’t act like a rookie, an’ you won’t be treated like a rookie. You see there ain't that much difference in pussy no way, you know what they say, the worst pussy in the world is still wonderful."

Fred was one of a kind, said he was going to do 40 years, (he was already past 30), in this man’s Navy, then retire, sit on his front porch and fuck, fart, and swat flies. He was full of these zany sayings, once when someone in the room farted, Fred loudly announced, Speak again O’ toothless bastard, your breath is the same, but your voice has changed. I often wondered how he could have been in the Navy this long and still only be a Second-Class Petty Officer, I’ll bet there was a story there also. He once stated with bravado If I were a man of means, I would be considered out-spoken, but as I am I am, I’m just a loudmouth, I don’t think that was original, but it fit him. He had this quirk, if you asked him what time it was, he would answer It’s 6: 90 rather than 7:30."

So, I guess I didn't think like most of the guys my age, even back then. When you let yourself get drunk out in public or anywhere, you're prey to the stupidest, sober motherfucker around you, another axiom of Fred. He also taught me to drink, and his favorite was Scotch, I hated it at first, I thought it tasted like medicine. But I was too young to buy liquor so I had to drink what he bought. I remember it well, Black and White Scotch, it had the picture of two little dogs, one Black & one White.

Now that I think back, even when I was growing up in that little town of 5,800 people, I had a lot of big city thoughts and reactions; I just didn't realize it at the time. I had always hung around the older guys and older women too, as I was growing up. They were the ones who knew more than I did, you learn a lot that way. I figured, Why mess around with someone who didn't know any more than I did? Or maybe even less. I especially had that sense of survival and the self-confidence to take advantage of a situation as it was occurring.

As I think about it now, I was always a step ahead of everyone else growing up. I think I even had sex before any of my buddies did. But I couldn’t brag about it. Because I lived in a small, Good ol’ Boy farming town and when I was 17, I worked after school and some weekends for this couple who had a little business they ran out of their home.

The wife, a cute, fine little dark-haired lady of about 30 or so came on to me all the time behind her husband’s back, who was about 15 or so years older than her, like touching my arms and chest as if by accident, making sexy statements about my body, bending so I could see down her shirt, or letting her dress get a little too high and showing those fine thighs. I was scared shitless, that kind of thing could have got me in all kinds of trouble if she had screamed or something. But she was so damn pretty and fine. I used to daydream just thinking of her and imagining her with no clothes on. One day I was getting a load of stuff ready to take to the City Dump and she came in and was complaining about how hot it was, and it was a hot day.

Theo, take that shirt off, relax a bit, you’ve been working too hard in all this damn heat.

I’m OK, heat don’t bother me that much, long as I got some cold water, I said.

Well, I’m going to cool off anyway. She slipped off the blouse she was wearing. I turned away from her because all she had on under it was a bra.

Awww Theo, you’ve seen a bra before, don’t your little girlfriend wear one?

I-I-don’t have a girlfriend, Miss Michaels, I stuttered back.

Call me Clester, when it’s just you and me Theo, she said as she took my hand and squeezed it under her bra. I damn near shit a brick!!

Your husband---

Fuck’im, that bastard is in Denning ‘til in the morning, probably gawking at some lil’ young girl, or wishing his old ass was, he’s always looking at the young ones, he couldn’t do anything if one was to give him some, she said laughing.

Then she rubbed my crotch, Damn, I figured you had a big one and man, was I right, an’ it ain’t even hard yet!

Miss Mich---

Clester

I can--’t

That ain’t what this big ole’ thing down here says, no one will know, cause I’m not telling anyone, here, lemme take it out. She urged me.

Before I knew it, she had unzipped my pants and had me in her hot little hands and I was as hard as Chinese Calculus in Braille. There was a workbench in the room and she pulled me over to it, her grip on my waist got tighter as we neared the bench. She sat up on the bench, pulled her skirt up, (no panties) and in no time at all I was inside her, the warmth of our connection surprised me. Next, she grabbed my butt and was pushing and pulling me into her. It lasted only a few minutes, she kept humping then she moaned out real loud and grabbed me by the neck, and held on real tight. I thought I was about to faint, it felt so good.

Damn, young man, that didn’t last long, but my Lord, you’re still hard as a rock, I bet you give your little girlfriend more than that. She said as she kept moving on my hardness.

Mis-, I don’t have a girlfriend I stammered.

She held me back at arm’s length, Don’t have a girlfriend? You mean, you haven’t ever— this was your first time? You’re a virgin? Oh my God, young man, I was your first. She beamed at me and gave me a big hug I’m so proud of you.

I guess so, Miss Michaels, I said.

She kept moving on my hardness until she moaned and held me tightly in her again and this most wonderful sensation came over me.

My, my, we’re going to have a fun summer, if you can keep our little secret. You know what’ll happen if this gets out, right? You DO want to keep this going, don’t you? you can’t go braggin’ to your little buddies, if you do, we’re both in big trouble, and mostly you, I mean super BIG trouble, ‘cause they’ll believe whatever I tell them, you do understand me, Theo?

Y-Yes ma’am, I understand I meekly said.

I mean it, Theo, now this is no bullshit. What do you think will happen to your family? A black man and a white woman! Even though you’re just a boy, these fuckers will go ape shit around here, you might be a boy, but you’re as big and strong as any man, I’ll think of a lie an they’ll b’lieve me, but it’ll be your cute ass, so NOBODY can know about this, and I mean NOBODY!!, EVER!! Think about your momma and daddy. Now there was a look in her eyes that I had never seen before. This scared the shit out of me, but at the same time I was star-struck. This started the best summer in my life, she would find all kinds of ways for us to get together.

She taught me so much about sex, I was taught by a woman who loved sex and wasn’t getting enough at home and was willing to teach me how to please her or any other woman.

Sometimes we would have long serious talks about sex, she was very open and honest, she told me all about the little man in the boat there was no shame in this woman’s game.

If you ever want to know something, just ask me Theo, your friends probably don’t know shit about pleasing a woman they just want to please themselves she’d say. I didn’t have to learn by listening to guys in the bathroom who didn’t know shit, like she said, or either lied their asses off. She introduced me to things I’d only read about in those little sex books. Her husband was one of the stupidest clowns I’d ever seen, she said he would never or could never finish her off as she termed it. Once he got his, he was done: CHECK PLEASE!! He never suspected a thing.

She once bought a couch just so she could tell him she wanted me to go to the neighboring town with her to pick it up in his pick-up truck. The people who owned the couch were out of town, so we had the house to ourselves for hours.

This is the sweet lady who introduced me to oral sex, she did me first, then had me do her. I remember her saying one time Theo, sweetie, you’re not digging a hole down there, my body will tell you how, or where to go or I’ll show you, you’ve got to learn to read a woman’s body sweetie, it’ll tell you what she wants or needs or better, what she doesn’t want, the body don’t lie Theo. You just got to know how to read it, and you do the same thing, let me know if you like what’s going on or not, and the main thing, young man, you always respect women, because with your looks and body, you’re a man that’s not going to have to worry about getting a woman, just don’t let it go to your head and abuse them, remember: We’re God’s precious gift"

I remembered my pals teasing about oral sex, Eating Pussy they called it: Black men don’t do that shit, they’d say. Let the white boys eat it, we’ll fuck it. They were either stupid or lying to each other. This lasted till her husband’s mom died and they had to move to Oklahoma to take care of his dad right after Christmas. When she told me they were moving, we were alone in the truck and she cried her heart out, we both did. I had become really close to her.

Believe it or not, I never told any of my buddies about our little liaisons. (I was scared to) God knows I wanted to, but I used her knowledge with my future girlfriends, except the oral, because back in my little town, I wasn’t going to take a chance knowing how the black guys would talk about it if word got out. I remembered an old black guy in the neighborhood, Mr. Holmes, the rumor was that he would eat it. One time he had a cup of coffee in one of the black cafés and when he finished, the café owner threw the cup in the trash and everyone broke out laughing.

But anyway: Back to the fact that I was now in Vietnam: Just the idea that I was here was mind-boggling to me, believe it or not, but just a little more than a year ago, I was stationed in Del Mono, Texas, yes that's right, Del Mono, Texas, about a good day’s drive from my home town at the Naval Air Station enjoying the hell out of shore duty, after riding a ship for three years.

One of the Lifers there had been telling me that if I wanted to get on the fast track for advancement, I should try to go to B School, which is Advanced Hospital Corpsman School, it prepares you for Independent Duty because you’ll probably be stationed where you are the only Medical Support around and besides delving deeper into the medical aspects it also taught you all the confusing administrative junk you had to know in order to function on your own, and it looked awful good to the advancement boards when you're up for the next higher pay grades.

So anyway, I put in for it with a good recommendation from my Chief and I got it. Off I went to San Diego for 16 weeks of B School. The training was fun, it was hard at times but I managed to get through it and had damn good grades because medicine had always been very enlightening and fascinating to me. I was even promoted to First Class (HM1), while in B school, I graduated 2nd in the class, and that started my problem: I'll never forget our Company Commander when he made the announcement right after graduation:

I think I have some good news for some of you. But before I post the new duty assignments for this class, the top 8 of you are going to a relatively new School after you leave here.

Another fuckin’ school, after this one, are you kidding me? someone groaned.

You fuckin’ A ditty bag, but not just another school, they’ll be going to Advanced Counterinsurgency School over at Coronado, they call it CI School, it’s a 8-10 week school and then you'll be attached to the Naval Advisory Group in Vietnam, or N.A.G, where you'll be U. S. Naval Advisors, under the command of COMNAVFOR-V. (Commander, Naval Forces, Vietnam) All of a sudden, a chill ran down my back, and I could feel my balls try to suck themselves back into my body I thought to myself, Vietnam, what the fuck have I got myself into?"

The Chief went on: You'll be taught how to speak, read and write the language, jungle warfare techniques, a lot of firearms trainings, CQC, (close quarter combat), some demolitions, some Vietnamese history, and a LOT of Physical Training. After that, you'll go through SERE training, that's Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape; now this one will really kick your ass. This is when you'll see what you're really made of, as a matter of fact, the SERE and the PT is the part that might eliminate some of you, if you're pussies, even SEALS have to go through SERE training

I tried to fool myself: I thought This might be fun, I kind of like that John Wayneish shit anyway, and I know I'm in great shape, so what can they do to you that bad? The worst that can happen is that you flunk out and end up on a ship, which is the very reason I joined the Navy in the first place.

Oh, there is one thing though, he said, the guy who graduated No. 1, that'll be you, Petty Officer Granger, still has the option to go where he wants to go, if there’s a billet there for him, keeping in line with our policy to try to give the No. 1 guy in the class his choice of duty stations, but keep in mind Granger, the Navy wanted the best in the class to be US Advisors. But if you want to be a pussy about it and back out, it's your choice. the Company Commander said.

Granger stood up, Well Chief, I'm glad to announce that I'll be proud to be the biggest pussy at the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland, USA, about a 15-minute drive from where I was raised, so fuck your CI School, Vietnam, and ALL of that bullshit. He gave a big phony salute and sat down. There were mixed cheers and boos from the group. Then it dawned on me, this guy had beaten me out by 1.2 points!! Thus, we became nicknamed the SAIGON SEVEN after graduation.

After a 30-day leave period, which I spent mostly back home in Texas and the rest in San Diego, I was in Counterinsurgency School at Coronado, CA. The first day there I knew these people were serious, we all had to have a SECRET clearance; this was initiated before we left B school on leave. (I found this out later when my mom said there were men in suits all over town asking questions about me). We were all issued green fatigues, covers (hats), and combat boots and from then on, all thoughts of the Navy and ships were wiped from our minds. The school was tougher than I expected, but kind of fun, the PT was a bitch, they really pushed us to our limits and even past them. Our PT instructor (A Naval Academy grad, nicknamed The Mule) really pushed us to our limits and then some. I did things that I had thought impossible, but I got off on it though. One thing I remember was, we had to run along the beach in combat boots for miles to warm-up for PT, all of a sudden, the Mule would call out a group of names and yell GET WET AND SANDY" that meant to run out into the surf, dive in, then come out and roll around in the sand, then catch up with the group.

We were taught a lot about Vietnam history, how we got involved and all that. I remember thinking at the time if we had paid more attention to that little Ho Chi Minh years ago, we might not be in this shit now, he begged for a little help and recognition and we gave him the bum's rush, to put it lightly.

We were taught to speak, read and write the language, I especially liked the jungle warfare training, we went out in the boonies and had war games, we set ambushes, got caught in ambushes, set booby traps, and were taught how to recognize and avoid them, learned to read terrain maps, use a compass, how to camouflage ourselves, how to call in coordinates for air support, classes in CQC (Close Quarter Combat), we had some training in Ordinance and Explosives and Communications, and fired just about every weapon the military had, plus we had extensive survival training.

The tough one was the S.E.R.E. (Survival, Evasion, Rescue, Escape) training, they took us to this isolated place somewhere in the mountains where they had a mock V.C. prison camp, (DESIGNED BY EX-POW’S), they put us out in the woods with a knife, a canteen of water and a couple of matches, and we had to survive and avoid capture as long as we could. One other guy and myself were the last to be captured; we evaded them for almost 3 days, living off the land. We had our shit together. He showed me a lot of ways to use the surroundings to camouflage ourselves and survive. He would say Just do what I say and don’t ask fuckin’ questions and we’ll get through this shit or get away from me and survive on your own I found out later he was a Navy SEAL, Mac who was injured in his training and had to miss a couple evolutions in his training cycle.

Once we were captured, (and we were the last ones) they put us in this mock POW Camp where all prisoners were isolated from each other and interrogated. I figured this was just a game-playing thing and didn't really sweat it until I was brought in for interrogation. They made it seem real and had this weird accent. The questions were serious ones like asking me why would I as a Black man go through all this stuff for a country that treated me like a second-class citizen, and when was the last time I was called a nigger? or couldn’t rent an apartment in certain parts of town? I went through Water Boarding, this is where they tie you to a longboard with your head lowered, they then pull your tee shirt or some kind of cloth over your head and slowly with a hose, or a canteen and they pour water in your nose and mouth. This was only one of their methods, I heard guys screaming and crying through the walls, and even bouncing off them. Our captors told us to NEVER look a guard in the face and NEVER have your hands above your waist, it was considered aggressive behavior, and you would get a fist in the gut, or chest, and they were not kidding!

Anyway, I made it through in pretty good shape; I went through the all-day initiation on the High Seas of becoming a Shellback when I traveled from Okinawa to Australia, but that was nothing compared with SERE training. Afterwards they gave us a briefing on the methods used on prisoners and what to expect if we were captured. We were given some code words and phrases to use if we ever were captured and allowed to write letters home. On our last day there, they had this little graduation ceremony that was really quite touching and even brought tears to some eyes, including mine. All in all, it was an interesting experience and taught me a lot about myself, but nothing I would ever want to go through again, and some of it I will not include in this book.

Then it was back to Coronado, a couple of days off and Graduation Day. After a short leave period which I spent in San Diego and Tijuana, we were on the big bird headed for Vietnam.

It was about dusk when we finally arrived at our temporary living quarters and it must have been the busiest time of the day. There were bicycles and motorbikes everywhere in the street, and there seemed to be no logical flow of traffic, it was just like a million little ants milling around. This was Peanut Street or so the GIs called it, probably because they couldn't pronounce the Vietnamese name. For the time being, we were being housed at one of the receiving barracks that the Navy had set up for new people in the country. It really wasn't a barracks; it was a kind of cheap rate Vietnamese Hotel that the U.S. had bought or leased to house their personnel until they could be further assigned.

The NAG Personnel, such as me and a few others would only be here a day or two, NAG had their own Quarters downtown Saigon. Of course, no one knew it at the time. I still couldn't believe we were in Vietnam,