Civilians

Of the many camps I was based at the last one, an ARVN (Army, Republic of Vietnam) camp, had civilians. They were dependents of the ARVN infantry soldiers based at the camp. It seemed so strange to me; women and children running about the camp during the day and disappearing into their bunkers around the perimeter at night. The bunkers were just hovels that were so small and cramped that even the small Vietnamese couldn't stand up in them. Typically, the floors were dirt and the walls made of sandbags. Roofs were usually constructed of wood beams, corrugated steel (Perforated Steel Plate, or PSP) and sandbags. And they usually leaked during the rainy season. Cockroaches and rats found that all of the nooks and crannies provided by the bunkers made great places to nest.

Survival was a day to day thing and food was a constant problem. The families existed on anything they could beg, borrow or steal. They did steal food and other things from us such as gasoline and personal items. They were exceedingly poor and hungry so I guess I can't blame them for their actions, but it did annoy me from time to time. They stole my poncho-liner (the only covering I had to keep warm at night), my wrist watch and prized transistor radio that my dad gave me just before I left for Vietnam.

Generally, though, I tried to help them with food whenever I could. We were living on C-rations, which is nothing to write home about, but the stuff will keep you alive, nutritionally speaking. So, I gave them some of the stuff when we had extra. I hated seeing the children suffer. They were always so eager and happy when we shared food with them — just a beehive of giggling and laughter.

I did go through a brief period of resentment towards the ARVN's and their tribe when they decided that my mascot dog looked like a good meal. I was so repulsed and angry I couldn't even see straight for a few days. But, I had to eventually remember that I was a guest in their country and eating dogs was, to them, no different than us eating a chicken. It was a cultural difference and nothing more.

When outside our camp/s I generally looked upon the civilian population with a bit of suspicion. All of them were subject to coercion from the VC and NVA and could be made to harm us. Even the children weren't exempt. When we were based at Go Dau Ha, a child tossed a grenade into a small market that catered to hungry G.I.'s. It severely injured 2 Americans. I'm talking about children under the age of 10.

Another time, in Saigon, children flocked around us, attempting to sell us marijuana and pornographic pictures. They even tried to sell us their mothers and sisters. I found it truly amazing and sad what people will do to survive. War brings us to the bottom of the barrel. I don't really blame the civilians for the behavior they displayed. I sometimes wonder what I would resort to if I were starving.

In the country-side I think the general population just wanted to be left in peace to farm their land. I don't think they really cared what type of government was in place, as long as it brought peace. The vast majority appeared to me to be a very simple people; uneducated and basically happy to live the same life their ancestors did. Their way of life was very crude by our standards. They still used water-buffalo to plow their fields and they planted their crops with their bare hands. Their primary mode of transportation was usually a small motorbike such as a Honda 50 or 90. I was quite amazed at how many people they could get on one machine. More than once, I saw 5 Vietnamese on a motorbike. It looked like a circus stunt. Automobiles were a very, very rare sight. I remember one day when we were driving back to base camp for supplies in our 3/4 ton truck when we happened to be following a papa-san and mama-san on their motorbike. Mama-san was riding side-saddle on the rack behind the seat and she didn't appear to be paying much attention to the road ahead. Unfortunately, papa-san hit a large bump in the road and mama-san departed the vehicle, tumbling a** over tea-kettle as she skipped across the pavement. I think Dale was driving our truck that day and it was only his quick reflexes that prevented us from running over mama-san. Amazingly, papa-san motored on up the road, unaware of what had just happened. We pulled along side papa-san, waving our hands frantically and pointing to the back of his motorbike. He finally looked back and then turned around to retrieve his lady. I have a feeling that papa-san ended up in the dog house over that one.

Civilians had to deal with the military imposed curfew. It was for their safety as well as ours. As I remember, curfew began at 19:00 hours (7:00 PM) and ended at 7:00 hours (7:00 AM). During those hours, anyone caught outside the perimeter of a village, hamlet, or what-ever was considered to be the enemy. Even their animals were to be kept tied up. I remember a few occasions where a farmers prized water-buffalo escaped into the darkness only to come to it's demise when we detected it with our radar. We couldn't discern the difference between people and animals with the radar. It was a very sad thing for a farmer to loose his water-buffalo, a major loss.

There was another area that was particularly troublesome to the South Vietnamese. In order to combat black marketeering the U.S. military established their own currency. It was called MPC or Military Payment Certificates. All denominations were paper; nickels, dimes, quarters, dollars. The Vietnamese were so eager and desperate to sell their wares to G.I.'s that they would accept MPC. The script was good just about anywhere. The problem for the South Vietnamese was that the U.S. military would suddenly exchange the existing script with a new script design, rendering the old script worthless. Only U.S. military personnel could exchange old MPC for new MPC and we were only give a short prior notice. In addition, we were not allowed to exchange an amount significantly greater than one month's pay. Obviously, this left a lot of Vietnamese (probably on both sides) holding piles of worthless script. Also, possession of U.S. greenbacks by G.I.'s was strictly illegal. I never saw any while I was in-country. Anyway, I think a lot of South Vietnamese were hurt financially by the MPC program but it was necessary to prevent our own money from working against us (or so we were told).

We returned to our base camp about once every week or two to get haircuts, pick-up supplies, mail, ammo, etc. I noticed that many of the camp workers were Vietnamese. Typically, they operated the ice-house, barber shop, massage parlor, snack bars and a host of other things. The barber in our area was quite a character. As he cut hair he had the habit of smoking marijuana and also taking an occassional pull on a bottle of whiskey. In spite of this he managed to give pretty decent haircuts. I used to worry a bit about what side of the fence he was really on when he was shaving my neck with a straight razor (there were a number of occassions when VC got into the large base camp and raised a bit of trouble). I seem to remember that South Vietnamese employed by the U.S. Army made a relatively good wage when compared with traditional farming. I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that these workers were sorry to see the U.S. military leave their country.

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