Takada was a short and robust Staff Sergeant of Japanese descent who worked in the Plans and Operations Department of our Signal Directorate. Takada was always well-groomed in uniform. From the first time we met, he treated me as an equal though I was only a Specialist Four.
“Damn, sarge, how do you manage to keep your uniforms starched and pressed and your boots spit-shined in a combat zone?” I once asked. He informed me that he had two girlfriends and they took turns maintaining his uniforms and boots. Neither one knew about the other.
Whenever I had some time off, I would hop on a military bus and go scout the PX's at the Tan Son Nhut Air Base, the one by the Brinks Hotel and the main PX in the Cholon area. The Cholon PX was my favorite simply because it was the biggest PX, was well-stocked and had a snack bar with make-believe American hamburgers and snacks. Food there was not the best, but the snack bar had an American ambiance to it. When I didn't have big money to make big buys, I would still visit the Cholon PX and check out their new shipments of stereos and other electronics.
I made friends with a Vietnamese lady who worked in the electronics department at the Cholon PX. I needed a light flash for an Asahi Pentex camera I had bought earlier. I looked for the Pentex flash at every PX I visited. After the second or third time visiting the PX asking for it, she meekly mentioned, "Oh, yes. I remember you came here looking for it."
"Yes," I admitted. "I look for it everywhere I go from Cam Ranh Bay to Tan Son Nhut to here. Do you think you will get them sometime soon?"
"If you wait one minute, I will get one for you. I know where one is," she volunteered.
I couldn't believe my luck. "Yes, please," I said. "I really appreciate it."
She went through the door to the back storeroom and was back in a few minutes.
"Here," she said. "The store manager was saving it for his friend, but I sell to you."
"But will it get you in trouble?" I asked.
"No, I tell him I sold to his friend."
My Pentex camera set was now complete, and I would stop by the snack bar and buy her some munchies every time I visited the Cholon PX after that day.
On a trip to the Cholon PX, I once got off at a nearby bus stop and was walking to the Cholon PX when I met Sergeant Takada on a sidewalk leading away from the PX. At first I did not believe it was him wearing old raggedy khakis, a faded tee-shirt and flip flops. It seemed he had not shaved and had the beginnings of a scraggly beard. My first thought was how amazingly like Sergeant Takada this Chinese person looked.
Sergeant Takada saw me, walked over and shook my hand. “Ojeda, what the hell are you doing in this part of town?” I told him I was on my way to the Cholon PX. Cholon was the Chinese part of Saigon and a major center of activity with fabulous Chinese eateries, the biggest PX and several hotels rented by the American military and used as living quarters for American soldiers stationed around Saigon.
Takada offered to show me the best places to eat and drink around Cholon. He seemed to be well known in most of the establishments we entered. After eating a generous meal at a fabulous price, we went to a bar where Takada introduced me to Papasan Bich, a pretty important figure in Cholon. Papasan Bich owned the bar and used it as his headquarters where he was dealing in black market goods from American facilities. I was to learn later that Papasan Bich was a key player in the Chinese mafia in Cholon. Takada warned me telling me “Ojeda, this man is pure evil and has evil flowing through every piece of his heart, but he is a good man to know as long as you stay on his good side. Don’t cross him! Don't EVER cross him!” I didn’t mind his badness when I learned he paid the best prices for black market PX goods. He became a good friend and I a good supplier. Takada kept warning me “Now, don’t go and fucking cross this man, Ojeda. Provide him with booze and cigarettes, and he can do great things for you. Also, don’t haggle. Take whatever price he pays you. He will always pay you the best prices for ration items.”
It was close to curfew after a night of drinking and running around to several of Takada’s favorite nightspots. I suggested to Takada that we should find a taxi and get back to post before we missed curfew. “You go ahead,” said Takada. “I’ve got one of my girls to go see. I’ll leave early tomorrow morning and see you at work.”
“But what about curfew?” I asked.
With a sly grin while puffing on a local brand of cheap cigarettes, Takada said “Ojeda, you've got a lot to learn. That curfew crap don’t mean shit to me. That’s why I dress like a local. MP’s take me for a Chinese and never bother me even after curfew."
"Have MP's ever stopped you," I asked.
If they do I'll just play ignorant, get hostile with them and reply to them in Japanese. They won't know the difference between Japanese and Chinese. Works every time. See you at work.”
It was a sinister plan which apparently worked well for Sergeant Takada. I envied him. Somehow, it just did not seem fair that he could get away with that and I could not. There is no way in hell a Mexican can possibly blend in with all these local Chinese, I thought sadly. Life is not always fair.