I had completed barely a year at Fort Belvoir, Virginia, when I received unaccompanied orders for Thailand. I was devastated since I had just returned from Vietnam mere months earlier, had just gotten married and was settling down to the peaceful, quiet life I had always envisioned. Moreover, my son, Lee Anthony, was due in just two months.
“You’ll not be using army protocol in this new venture,” a matter-of-fact lady on the phone reported to me.
“So where am I going?” I innocently asked. “My orders state Thailand, and everyone in Thailand gets accompanied status. Why is this an unaccompanied tour?”
“I’ve told you all you need to know at this time. You’ll learn more when you arrive at our Arlington office.”
I needed answers, and I did not get them from the Arlington lady, so I drove to the US Army Engineer School Sergeant Major's office at Fort Belvoir. His secretary greeted me and offered me coffee. "No, I don't need coffee!" I replied. "I just need to see the Sergeant Major."
"Well, he's on the phone now, but maybe you could wait by his door. Just knock on his door when he gets off the phone," she directed.
“Goddamit, sergeant, I'm just fucking tired of your excuses and all the happy horse shit you put me through! See me first thing in the morning and bring both of those dumb asses with you. I'm gonna have a serious talk with you and your men who refuse to follow MY goddamn orders!" He slammed the phone down with exaggerated force.
I stood sheepishly by the open door debating whether turning around and leaving at this point was still an option. Just then the Sergeant Major noticed me at the door and shouted out to me, “What the hell do YOU want?”
The Sergeant Major was a tough hombre wearing right shoulder Ranger and 101st Airborne patch with airborne and combat infantry badges over his left pocket. He seemed more suited for a combat environment than sitting behind an administrative desk.
“Sergeant Major, I just got a call to report to an address in Arlington for overseas processing to Thailand. I cannot take military uniforms. Do you have any idea why I would not be taking military uniforms and why am I not processing through our post levy section?”1
“I don't fucking know! Lemme see your goddamn orders." After a brief scan of my orders, he continued. "So, you’re going to Thailand! What the hell do you want ME to do?” he shouted sternly.
Well, I have a child being born in just two months. Is there any way my reassignment can be delayed for these two months?
I asked.
“Short answer is NO! You come down on an overseas levy, and not even God Himself can fucking stop that. As for you having to report to an Arlington office, let me check on that. Give me that address and name of whoever called you and go wait in the secretary’s office.”
I did as instructed and just sat in an outer office while he called another Sergeant Major somewhere on post. His secretary was a youngish, somewhat timid lady who seemed embarrassed by the sergeant major's outbursts. "Don't be intimidated, please," she said. "He's just having a bad day." By intercom the sergeant major informed the secretary to send me back in. A calmer, kinder Sergeant Major asked me, “Sergeant Ojeda, have you ever had any spook2 assignments?”
“Not completely, Sergeant Major, though I did serve a few assignments with the Army Security Agency,” I responded.
“Well, there you have it, sergeant. I don’t know where you’ll be going, but it sure the hell will not be Thailand. It's a civilian assignment so it could be Laos, Cambodia or one of several assignments in that area. The levy section sergeant major is trying to find out more and will be calling me back. Meantime, just report to the Arlington office as instructed and keep me posted.”
I didn't have a good feeling about this but still reported to the Arlington office. It was a nondescript office building with no outer marking indicating that it was anything military. The receptionist directed me to a room where passport pictures were taken. She then led me to another office where some guy in coat and tie briefed me on my assignment. He had already arranged for me an account of $550 at Robert Hall Clothiers in Alexandria, Virginia. I was to go there, pick out $550 of civilian clothes and anything else I wanted from the store. I would have an official US passport waiting for me at Oakland Army Base upon my arrival there. He provided me a lady's name and phone number at Oakland Army Base as a point of contact. I would let my hair grow and take no military uniforms or military items with me – nothing that would even suggest that I was military. I would tell my family and anyone else that I was being assigned to Joint US Military Assistance Command, Thailand. My alarm meter began working at warp speed.
It was about a thirty-minute briefing and several other instructions were issued before he asked me if I had any questions.
"Look, am I REALLY going to Thailand and why in civilian clothes?" I asked.
"Look at your orders," he said. "They say ‘Thailand’. Beyond that I don't have anything else to add."
He handed me copies of several documents I had signed and he notarized. “Keep these with you at all times. You will need them when you reach your final destination.”
"Look, I have a baby due in two months. Is it possible to delay my assignment?" I asked.
He got up from his desk and walked towards his door signaling that our meeting had ended while telling me, "Not possible. Your position has been vacant for well over a year. They need you immediately. Thank you for coming in, and good luck in your assignment."
With that, I was summarily dismissed.
None of my previous many assignments were ever shrouded in this much mystery, and I was now in unfamiliar territory and exploring viable options. As I have always done during difficult times, I weighed my options from the most extreme to the most feasible. The extreme would be to just pack up and go AWOL3. The most feasible was to proceed on with my assignment. I made arrangements for Lee Anthony's mom to stay with my mother in Texas, and Lee Anthony was born in my hometown of San Benito while I was overseas.
I spent my ten days in Texas then called up my point of contact at Oakland Army Base to learn there was a delay in my passport. She told me to stay home for another week, and it would not count against my leave time. She sent me amendment orders and rescheduled my flight to Oakland.
I arrived at Oakland Army Base and headed for my point of contact's office. She greeted me warmly almost with compassion. My alarm meter quickly rose. I tried in vain to get more information from her about my assignment, but she was stoically evasive. She pulled out an information file, had me sign for my Official US Passport and called for a driver to take me to Travis Air Base for my flight to Thailand. I spent some thirty minutes in her office waiting for the driver. She was an older lady perhaps in her sixties and by informal conversation wanted to know more about me. Realizing she was not willing to tell me more about my assignment, the more about my background she probed, the less I shared.
I landed in Bangkok, Thailand, and got a hotel for the night while I pondered just how to find the JUSMAGTHAI4 headquarters stated in my orders. After a number of calls to the US Embassy and the Military Attaché, I was directed to meet a military sedan in front of my hotel at a certain time that next morning. The military sedan transported me to the sprawling Joint Military Assistance Command facility. Once there, I reported to the Admin Office and presented my orders to a clerk who could not decipher them. He took me to a major who also could not determine why I was there or where I belonged. The major wanted to know why I was not in military uniform. I referred him to my orders which clearly required civilian attire. He asked me to wait and left for some 15 minutes then returned with a Sergeant Major who told me I did not actually belong there. The Sergeant Major arranged for me to travel up north to Udorn Thani.
I arrived at Udorn where a waiting van drove me to an Army office commanded by then-Brigadier General Vessey.5 The admin sergeant there asked for my personnel and finance files. I asked if he wanted my medical records also. “No, you’ll turn those in at the medical clinic once you arrive there."
“Where is ‘there’? You mean I’m not staying here in Udorn?” I asked.
“Noooo, you’re not. Now don't get too comfortable cause you're booked on Air America this evening going across the river.”
"What's across the river?" I asked.
With a blank look he asked, "You weren't told you are going to Laos?"
"Well, now, every damn time I arrive somewhere I keep getting sent further and further north. I was initially informed I would be stationed in Bangkok. That obviously did not happen. Instead, I was sent north to be stationed up here in Udorn. Apparently, that is not happening either. Now I hear I am going still further up north. There is something wrong here. This is not usually the way the Army operates! Why all this secrecy? And what’s north of Laos, anyway?"
"You don’t wanna know. Anyway, the driver just pulled up,” he said. “Get your stuff and keep your passport handy. You will need it when you land at Vientiane."
I was one of three passengers on the Air America C-123 arriving at the Vientiane airport on a Friday after dark. I grabbed my bags from the C-123 ramp and walked out to the curb thinking I would have someone picking me up. There was no one. Air passengers and terminal employees were already disappearing leaving the terminal darkened and deserted. I considered taking a taxi. There were no taxis. I sat on my suitcase wondering just what the hell to do when I spotted an old jeep speeding towards me painted a faded yellow by the overhead lights. Thankfully, I thought, I have someone to pick me up. A Navajo-looking American in shorts and flip-flops jumped out and asked me if I were the new guy. “Yeah, I just got here. Are you my sponsor?”
“That depends. Are you the intelligence analyst?” he asked.
“No, I’m actually the communications tech.”
“Well, I guess my man didn’t show up today. Welcome to Vientiane,” he said as he started to get back in the jeep. I asked him if he could give me a ride to the American Embassy.
“Are you shitting me? It’s Friday evening. Everything’s closed till Monday. Don’t you have a place to stay?” He seemed incredulous that I would have the audacity to show up on a Friday evening and without a sponsor or point of contact. I assured him I had no place to stay and no earthly idea just what the hell to do till Monday morning.
“Well, damn, get in. I’ll take you to our villa. Seems we’ll have a spare room now.” So we drove to an eight-man villa in the center of Vientiane. He introduced me to Ron who was in charge of the villa. Ron helped me unload my bags and set me up in a guest room then asked me if I’d eaten yet. Assuring him that I had not had anything to eat since breakfast in Bangkok, Ron asked me to settle in and he would take me downtown to eat.
First stop was a bar-restaurant owned and operated by Teresa, a dark-skinned lady from India married to a Frenchman. Teresa made the best hamburger I have ever eaten, bar none. It was not a pretty burger, but it was wickedly good with a tender steak instead of hamburger patty and overflowing with onions, pickles, mayo and mustard on half of a French baguette. Subway could learn from her. I made it a habit of dropping by there regularly for the remainder of my tour.
Teresa asked me if I were American. “Yes, I am American of Mexican descent,” I replied.
“Oh, so you speak Spanish?” she asked. I nodded. “My husband speaks Spanish,” she said. “When he’s here, you and he can talk in Spanish.”
After a great burger and a couple of beers, Ron took me to two or three bars where he seemed quite popular and introduced me to all the locals and Americans there. Chucking darts was big entertainment in most bars around Vientiane, and Ron got me to partner up with him betting beers on the game. I’d never previously chucked darts, but Ron being good at it allowed us to win the three or four games we played. I believe beer turned out to be free that night.
Ron started to drive me to yet another bar asking me, “Are you ready for the coldest goddamn beer in town?” I responded with, “Look, I appreciate the tour, but I can’t handle this anymore. I’ve been on the road for past two days, I’m tired and just about to puke all the beer I’ve had tonight.” Ron kindly said, “Yeah, I didn’t think of that. You need to get some rest.” As he rounded the corner, I almost tumbled out the jeep onto the street without Ron even noticing. Ron was insanely intoxicated yet managed to get us back to the villa without incident.
Come Monday morning, Ron took me to the Army Attaché office where I was given U.S. Embassy credentials and issued a U.S. Embassy I.D. card. In every respect I was an American civilian covertly working as a US Embassy employee but being paid by the US Army. Once I completed my in-processing, Ron took his leave telling me, “Well, Jack, here you are. You’re on your own now. Drop by for a beer when you can.” I was to learn my name was preselected and came with the position I was taking. For the rest of my tour, I was Jack. My counterpart, an Air Force communications tech was “Don”.
1 - Levy Section arranges military transfers and provides guidance and useful information to members of the armed forces who have been reassigned to another military post.
2 - Spooks normally serve administratively divorced from anything military (undercover).
3 - Absent without leave – an unauthorized absence with shades of desertion.
4 - Joint US Military Assistance Group Thailand.
5 - General Vessey held every enlisted and officer rank before becoming Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. He was a fellow University of Maryland alumni and took his bachelor’s degree in Military Science. I took mine in Business Management.
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