I landed at Tan Son Nhut airbase going on a resupply mission for the PX. This turned out to be about a three-day trip to drop requisitions at the main PX warehouses on Plantation Road, have the orders pulled and palleted then coordinate for shipment back to my advisory team. It was cold, a lingering steady rain, and I was miserable with the onset of a harsh cold.
I took the blue Air Force bus from Tan Son Nhut airbase to an Air Force dispensary for a cold pack. Those folks would not give me a cold pack. They wanted me to see a doctor. Since I didn't have an appointment, I would have to wait a couple of hours in the waiting room on standby to be seen by the first available doctor. Telling them I do not do doctors, I just left, caught a bus to the front gate and hired a taxi to go see my old friend, Papasan Bich, in Cholon. Papasan Bich was a smallish, wiry Vietnamese perhaps in his fifties. His greyish raggedy beard seemed unkempt and his thick wire-rimmed glasses were forever sliding down his nose. He seemed to be a nondescript Vietnamese and very much the opposite of the power and wealth he possessed. He would conduct most of his business in his outer office which was a large table in the back corner of the bar he used as his headquarters. On more formal occasions, he would take his clients into his back office.
With a cigarette hanging off the corner of his mouth, Papasan greeted me with a "What you have for me, my friend?" I told Papasan Bich about my ordeal. "Well, friend, I need your help. I have a bad cold and maybe trouble with my tonsils. I need some medicines. What can you do for me?" I asked.
"No problem, friend. You tell me what you want. I call for you my doctor friend."
Papasan Bich gave me a beer, made small talk that I could not focus on while we waited. He sent a lady from the bar to get the doctor. Some twenty minutes passed, and a small old Chinese man wearing flipflops, baggy pants and a scraggly long beard walked in with a cotton muslin bag smelling of mentholatum. He could have passed for Uncle Ho Chi Minh's sibling. The bag included what seemed like bay leaves, a smaller muslin sack of small dark green pellets resembling rabbit poop and a flat box of antibiotics. Relaying through Papasan Bich, my Chinese doctor ordered I take the antibiotics three times a day, apply the mentholatum to my chest and temples in morning and evening, brew and drink the tea before breakfast and dinner, and take twelve rabbit pellets before each meal. Papasan Bich seemed to be haggling with the Chinese doctor yelling loudly at him at times before paying him in Piasters and dismissing him with a wave of his hand. My doctor left.
I offered to pay Papasan, but he would not hear of it. "Just bring me more alcohol, my friend. I need alcohol. Cigarettes okay, but alcohol much better. You take medicine, my friend. You get better soon."
I left Papasan and went back to the Victoria stopping by the St George NCO Club for a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red. When I arrived at the Victoria, my gorgeous lady friend was working the front desk. She made small talk, but I was in no mood for talk. I asked her to send a pitcher of hot water for my tea and some coke for mix to my room.
I took the medication, applied the mentholatum and slept for several hours before waking up in a sweat. I took the medication along with the rabbit pellets once more and headed for breakfast at the St George NCO Club. I struggled through the day but got my business done with the PX goods shipment then caught the last flight loaded with PX cargo arriving at Bac Lieu in late afternoon.
Once the PX goods were off-loaded from the C-123 flight, I entrusted the cargo to Sam, my Vietnamese warehouse worker, and left to see the team medic. He determined I had the flu and a severe case of tonsillitis. He gave me some antibiotics for my tonsillitis and other medication for my flu. I showed him my sack of rabbit poop pellets and asked him what he thought of it. "I don't rightly know just what the hell you got there, and I won't ask where you got that, but I would just get rid of that shit before you go and poison yourself." I did not tell him I had already taken several hits of them.
When I went back to work the next day, I showed my rabbit pellets to Ba Linh, my Vietnamese accountant at the PX. "Mr. Tony," she said, "These are very expensive Chinese vitamins. They make you strong so you don't get sick." I trusted Ba Linh. I kept taking them until I ran out, and all without incident. Papasan Bich jumped two whole notches on my reliability scale.
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