I was tasked to hand-carry a classified package from our 265th Radio Research Company to the 509th Radio Research Group in Tan Son Nhut. I was to return to Camp Eagle with a response from the 509th headquarters which would take some forty-eight hours, so I had free time in Saigon with little to do. Through an American-Japanese sergeant I served with during my first Vietnam tour, I had made friends with a colorful Vietnamese racketeer who dealt with black market goods. Papasan Bich was my go-to person whenever I was in need of anything I could not get through military channels. In turn, I would take him cigarettes and liquor from the military stores. He always paid top dollars.
Papasan Bich worked out of a bar he owned in the Cholon sector. I took a taxi to his bar. I had been there many times during my first two tours. Papasan Bich’s bar was now an upscale restaurant. My first thought was Papasan had gone straight and was now running a strictly legal operation. I took a table closest to Papasan’s office door and asked the Chinese waiter if Papasan still worked there. “Mister Bich not here.” he said. “My boss say he go Hong Kong. My boss he buy restaurant. You eat now?” I was hungry and ordered a tough steak burger with wilted lettuce and Dijon mustard.
I needed some dental work, so I visited the dental office in Tan Son Nhut. When I got to the dentist’s chair, the dental assistant noticed my 101st Airborne patch and wanted to know why I was not having my teeth worked on by a dentist at my home base. “That’s why we have dental clinics with the major units,” he lectured me. “Except for emergency care, we normally only take care of locally assigned patients here.”
“Well, I do have a tooth that’s been bothering me something awful,” I lied.
“Okay, we’ll take a look at it. If it appears you need dental work, I’ll pass you on to the dentist.” At one point during the dental exam, he probed a tooth that caused me excruciating pain. I motioned for him to stop and told him “Yes, that last tooth you just probed. That hurts. Let’s get the dentist to have a look at it.” After probing a couple of times, and me trying to appear brave and fearless, he hesitatingly referred me to the dentist.
I went through the same discussion with the dentist about my unit dental clinic being responsible for my dental work. “Doc, I’m with the 101st Airborne. We have no running water, no flushable toilets like you all have here and no dental facilities within at least fifty kilometers. I need your help!”
"Well, I’ll do the work this time, but you’re gonna have to make other arrangements next time because we’re pretty burdened with local patients as it is,” he snapped. “I’ll have to remove a filling and replace it. Do you wanna be put to sleep, or are you tough enough to take it?” he asked.
“Doc, it’s not bad enough to be put to sleep. I don’t want to be put to sleep – not for this.” I was careful about this since Army Security Agency regulations required a unit member to be present at all times while under anesthesia. Without another word, the dentist grabbed his dental drill and commenced to drilling on my molar. I was in total agony and enormous pain. After a few more seconds, I raised my hand motioning for him to stop. “Doc, aren’t you going to give me a shot to numb the gum?” I asked.
"Well, you told me you didn’t want to be put to sleep. I thought you were a tough guy. You’re wearing the 101st Airborne patch. I thought you were all tough guys,” he said sarcastically.
“Look, I’m not going to be put to sleep for this, but numb my damn gum, will you?” I asked.
Grudgingly he pulled out a syringe, loaded it and injected me with Novocain. I found it weird that he didn’t leave me at that point to return some fifteen or twenty minutes later while my gum went numb. He stayed with me jiggling my lower lip occasionally to see if it was already numbed. He then started me asking a series of questions totally outside the scope of his profession. “Have you ever had athlete’s foot?”
“I have on occasion but not recently,” I replied.
“What about migraines? When’s the last time you experienced a migraine?”
“I’ve had headaches but not migraines. In fact, I’m just now beginning to have a serious headache,” I answered. I was struggling to talk as the Novocain began to take its effect.
"How many times have you caught a parasitic disease in-country?”
“None!” I half-yelled back. “Are you writing a book, or what?” I asked rudely.
“How many kills have you had?”
“How can you ask that?” I demanded. “I came here for dental treatment. That has nothing to do with my dental work!” I was doing a slow burn, but I needed my tooth serviced. I could not get dental work back at Camp Eagle.
“Do you get regular mail from home?”
“Why do you ask?” I countered.
“Just asking. What’s your level of education?”
“I graduated at the very bottom of my high school class, and just barely!” I bragged then added, “What’s with all these questions, Doc? I came here seeking treatment for my tooth. Psychologically, I am well. I have it all together, and I just need treatment for my fucking tooth!”
After a few more non-dental questions, I had had enough. Ready or not, I was going for it and suggested, “It’s ready for the drill, Doc. Go for it!”
Doc went to work filling my tooth and did it all without any more questions. It was in late 1970, and that filling has never needed servicing in the past fifty-plus years. He was apparently a good and qualified though weird dentist who seemed to be practicing outside his field of dentistry. I could never figure out the reason for his line of questioning. I would normally have put a quick stop to any such line of questioning, but I needed his services. You do anything within reason when badly in need of dental care.
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