Mission Accomplishment is the Only Thing That Matters (November 20, 2009. Issue 11.)
Begun in 1966 to provide military personnel to assist the CIA in their prosecution of the secret war in Laos, Project 404 was going strong by the time I joined it in 1968; we were advising and assisting the Royal Laotian Military and being attached to the Army Attaché was just cover.
In Laos everything was set up different than in other Embassies throughout the world; the Attachés had their offices, administration, Intelligence, logistics, finance and communications in a compound on the outskirts of Vientiane. The Embassy was a few miles away in the city proper with their own personnel and support staff. I suppose it was because we weren’t really Attaché people at all, but part of a Military Assistance Advisory Group that was forbidden by the 1962 Geneva Convention.
I was a buck sergeant in the Army, wore civilian clothes, and carried an Embassy ID card, anything that would identify me as being military had been turned in prior to arriving in Laos. I had received extensive briefings on the secrecy of the war and on our mission prior to departing Bangkok, my previous duty assignment of three years. Just the idea of playing James Bond for the U.S. Army gave me a thrill, now it was time for the real thing.
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I had been bar hopping, starting out on Don Phalane, Vientiane’s night entertainment strip. Rosies was the first bar I visited. It was a cozy little bar that played music from a reel to reel tape player. I passed a couple of hours there, drinking San Miguel and shooting darts. Rosie didn’t have any girls working for her and when I finally lost a game of darts, it was time to head for the Lido. I liked the Lido, the girls wore round buttons with numbers fastened to their chests. To pick one up for the night, you let the bartender know what number you wanted and paid him one thousand kip, the equivalent of two American dollars. She was all yours. Whereas Rosies was well lit, the Lido was dark; perhaps to make the bar girls who worked there look prettier and sexier to the customers. Here the music was loud and the girls were always going over to your table asking you if you would buy them a drink. For the price of a drink, they would keep you company and dance with you, all the time trying to talk you into taking her home with you. I ended up buying one a couple of drinks, but quickly got bored with her and decided to leave. I jumped on my bike, a Yamaha 250cc motorcycle and headed for my next stop, the White Rose. The White Rose was Vientiane’s most famous or infamous bar depending on how your point of view. The White Rose was actually a two story wooden house that was turned into a bar and a whore house. Upstairs, they had little cubicles, made out of plaster board, each cubical was only eight feet wide and around fifteen feet long with a twin bed on one side and a bathtub at the end. Once you finished your business you could wash up in the tub. Short time price, five hundred kip or one dollar. I wasn’t interested in getting a short time; I wanted to see the nightly floor show. I bought a beer and watched little Noi stroll out onto the dance floor completely naked, she lit ten cigarettes, laid down on the floor, made a big V with her legs, placed all ten cigarettes in that sweet spot between her legs and began puffing away. A few of the customers went out on the dance floor and got down on their hands and knees to get a better look. When she finished with the cigarettes, she blew some of the most beautiful smoke rings I ever seen rising out from between a girl's legs. Damn that girl, she was good. She ran upon the stage where 5 or 6 ping pong balls were located. Noi squatted over the balls, picking them up one at a time, then shooting each ball toward a customer’s table, she finished her act by picking up a beer bottle with muscles that were not designed for stunts like that. She took a bow and ran off the stage and up the stairs, her act over. Amazing what a women can do with a little practice.
By the time I hit the Lucky bar, it was midnight and I was about ready to call it a night, I had to work the day shift in the morning, but decided to have one more beer before heading home. Pawn, the first bar girl I had when I arrived in Vientiane about a month ago was sitting at the bar. She came over to my table, sat down and started speaking Thai to me. She wanted a place to spend the night and thought my place would be ideal, answering her back in Thai, I agreed. I had just bagged my girl for tonight.
We were getting ready to leave when a man weighing around 350 pounds, had a crew cut and was wearing a white t-shirt, fatigues pants and flip flops stopped at our table.
He said, “Have a beer on me,”
“No thanks, we’re leaving,” I replied nodding to Pawn.
Ignoring my answer, he sat down the beer bottle on the table and then added, “Take it with you; I didn’t know you spoke Thai.”
“I was stationed in Bangkok, learned my Thai from a couple of Thai Army buddies. Pawn speaks Thai, English, French, Vietnamese and some Chinese, depending where her boyfriend is from.”
“I know all about Pawn. You interest me. My name’s Bud.”
“Don’t rightly care; it’s time for us to go.”
Leaving the beer on the table, Pawn and I left Luckys for my house. Pawn had her place to sleep; I had a pretty brown skinned, five foot five inch girl with big tits and hair down to her waist. She had a little meat on her bones, but only ten pounds or so which actually enhanced her figure, especially naked.
The next morning saw me at work in the communications center, providing the Attachés with secure worldwide communications via either radio or teletype. In the afternoon I was busy typing up our daily situational report when I glanced up and saw the same 350 pound man that had offered me a beer at the Lucky bar last night talking to my OIC, the Officer in Charge of the commcenter. He left in a couple of minutes; my OIC called me into his office.
“Report tomorrow morning at 0600 hours to our Intelligence section, Bud wants you to accompany him on his courier flight tomorrow.”
“Roger that Sir, courier runs also part of our commcenter duties?”
“Not until today,” replied my OIC.
“Who was that guy you were talking to, saw him at a bar last night.”
“Not really sure if he is CIA, DIA, NSA or with some other spook organization. I do know he gets what he wants, when he wants it with no question asked. Now he wants you! You’re going on that courier run. Don’t be late.”
I left it at that, I had only been here a month, not enough time to know what questions to ask. But even with that little experience, I knew enough to be standing tall at 0600 hours tomorrow morning in our Intelligence section. But tonight, Pawn had said she would fix supper for me if I let her spend the day at my place, I did. She was not only a good looker, she was intelligent, a good cook and an excellent lay, I was having serious thoughts about shacking up with her for the rest of my tour.
At 0600 hours Bud was waiting for me, he handed me two brief cases and he took two. We went directly to Wattai, Vientiane’s airport; we climbed aboard and took off in a STOL, a short take off and landing aircraft. Outside of saying, here, let’s go, and sit here, Bud had said nothing to me or offered any briefing as to what he expected me to do on this trip. Myself, thinking back to the episode in the bar and what my OIC had told me yesterday, I remained quiet. I assumed he would give me a run down of my duties when the time came. I was not sure at this point, whether I should be fearful of him, respectful, or both.
Ten minutes out of Vientiane, Bud threw me a Matt Helm paperback.
“You might as well do some reading, these flights can get boring.”
“Thanks, now that you’re talking, what’s my job on this courier flight?”
“Your job is to do exactly what I tell you to do, no more, no less. Oh hell, you really don’t have a clue? All right, all we are going to do is exchange pouches; we drop one off and pick one up, that simple. Any other questions?”
“My OIC told me yesterday, none of our commo guys have flown courier runs before, why me?”
“Like I said at the Lucky bar, you interest me, no more questions.”
So much for a good conversation or me getting some answers. I still didn’t know what he wanted with me or why. I opened the novel he had gave me and tried to read, but questions kept popping into my head.
We landed at our first stop, Luang Prabang, the Royal Capital of Laos and headquarters of Military Region I. When our STOL came to a stop next to the hangar, I saw a man holding a brief case about ten feet from the plane. Bud grabbed the brief case marked LP, stepped off the plane and exchanged briefcases with the guy. He then climbed back on board and we took off, headed for our second destination.
Once back in the air, Bud said, “One down, three to go. Our next stop will be Sam Thong, sit back, relax and enjoy the flight.”
With that Bud started reading his book and I closed my eyes, in a few minutes I was sound asleep.
When I woke up, I saw Bud leaning over the pilot’s shoulder talking on the radio. I couldn’t hear what was being said. Finished, he sat back down, looked me directly in the eyes and said, “We land in ten minutes, once on the ground, you come with me, leave the pouches on the plane, the pilot will stay with them, got it?”
I only nodded my head. I wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but according to him, I was to ask no more questions.
Approaching Sam Thong, it looked like it had two airstrips which combined into one half way down with a big turnaround circle at the end, like a Y standing on a big circle. Around the airstrip was a scattering of houses, but no big cluster or a village that would be recognized as such. We landed at Sam Thong a little after noon, taxied to the turnaround circle and stopped. I followed Bud into a building at the edge of the circle which had antennas on the roof, once inside I saw it was a mess hall, we continued through it into the back room, which was a make shift radio room. I immediately heard the radio squawking in a language I never heard before, but being where we were, I assumed it was Hmong.
The American radio operator looked directly at Bud and said, “Our Hmong road watch team has reported a company of NVA, North Vietnamese Army moving through a valley near Ban Ban; we got hill toppers, Thai Artillery Units on the mountain looking directly down on them. Problem is none of them understand Hmong or Lao, their only English speaking troop was medivaced out this morning, we got all that artillery up there and no one to direct fire.”
Bud glared directly at me, “I know you can rap some Thai with the bar girls, can you direct a fire mission in Thai?
“Hell I don’t know, what you want me to tell them?”
“Tell them to fire one round of the 105’s toward predetermined marker bravo,” the radio operator replied.
Using my best Thai, I did just that, but all I got back from the hill toppers was the Thai word “Kai.” That meant; who, egg, chicken, what, any of those depending on how it was used and the tone applied. I could feel Bud’s glaring eyes on the back of my neck. I tried again, still using the best correct and proper Thai I could muster; this time nothing but laughter came filtering back over the radio. I had a doomed feeling down deep in the pit of my stomach, but the laughter had not only embarrassed me, it made me mad as hell.
On my third attempt, I yelled into the mike using Thai slang, nothing proper or correct about it, “Mangsop, Quay Ling, He Ma, fire the 105 now toward marker bravo.” We heard a big whomp over the radio as the gun fired and the Hmong come back on the radio correcting fire, left ten degrees, add two meters of elevation.
Sticking with Thai slang, I passed on the corrections, the Hmong road watch team sounded ecstatic; they wanted the hill toppers to fire for effect. I passed that on and soon all three big guns on the mountain were pouring it on the NVA. Twenty minutes later I was able to tell the hill toppers to cease firing, the NVA were on the run, leaving the valley. Mission accomplished.
“Thought you blew it there for a minute, you did good, I owe you a beer,” said Bud.
“How did you get the hill toppers to open fire? I thought they would ignore you like they did me for the last hour. How?” asked the radio operator.
“When those Thai’s wouldn’t listen to me when I used proper Thai, I used an old army trick; I called them every dirty name I could think of. Cock roach, monkey dick, horse’s pussy and a few more. Learned all sorts of things from my Thai army buddies back in Bangkok, doing that showed I was in charge.”
We ate lunch at Sam Thong and exchanged brief cases. We were three hours late lifting off toward our next stop, Savannakhet. No problems there, we exchanged brief cases or pouches as Bud called them and we were on our way to Pakse, our last stop.
It was dark when we landed at Pakse, a quaint little town in Southern Laos situated on the Mekong River and headquarters to Military Region IV. Bud informed me we would be spending the night; we took our brief cases and locked them up in the safe at the Attaché house. We found a nice French restaurant near the Mekong River and ate supper. Then we hit a couple of bars, small, dank and dungy, one even had a dirt floor, I didn’t mind the way these bars looked, Bud was buying and I was drinking. The fourth bar overlooked the river, it had a band playing Lao songs and I sat back enjoying the breeze and the music. It had been a day I was not going to forget. Two Lao girls came over and sat down, they looked nice, their traditional Lao dress actually made them look rather sexy. I bought each of them a drink and a round for Bud and me, my first expense of the night. An hour later and three more rounds I told Bud it was time to leave. Bud got up and had a quick conversation with the bartender, returned and gave me a key to a hotel room around the corner.
“I paid for these two girls, they’re yours for the night, you did good today, you earned them. I’ll pick you up around eight in the morning. Enjoy.”
Bud left, most likely going back to the Attaché house and I headed to the Hotel with my two new friends. The only problem I found with having two girls in bed, I could only do one at a time. In the morning when Bud picked me up, I was more tired than when I went to bed, I hadn’t sleep much as I made the most of those two gals. I made up for the lack of sleep, sleeping all the way back to Vientiane on our return flight. Who Bud was or who he worked for, I didn’t care anymore. Anyone who buys me all that beer and gets me laid by two girls in one night, is okay in my book.
For the next month, I worked my normal job in the communications center. Pawn wanted to move in with me, I let her and now I had supper waiting on me when I got off work, plus the other benefits she provided. She was the girl friend and live in lover of the guy I replaced here , so maybe these gals get passed on to the next replacement once you finish your tour and leave Laos. One thing was for certain, Pawn did not like Bud at all, she told me to stay away from him.
That was easier said than done. After my month of bliss, Bud walked into the commcenter and told me to come with him. I looked over at my OIC and he just nodded. Bud got what he wanted and whom he wanted, me, no questions asked.
“Need you up at Lima Site 319, Muang Sao, got a STOL waiting at Wattai for you, Bud stated.”
“Do I get a briefing this time?” I asked.
“I just want you to monitor the radio and report back here every day at 1800 hours. I am expecting something to happen up there and you’re my man in the field. Now get your ass out to Wattai.”
That was it; end of briefing.
Two hours later I was landing on the shortest dirt strip I had ever seen. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of hundred feet long. This place was in the middle of nowhere, located in a small valley surrounded by mountains. There was a nice French styled house at the end of the strip, a couple of limestone’s karsts off to the right and after that, the mountains with nothing but scrub brush on them, no trees rising from their heights. Off to the left I could see what looked like a village in the distance, perhaps of 20 or so houses. Beyond the houses, the treeless mountains rose. I was not impressed.
“Welcome to Lima Site 319”, the pilot said, “You will bunk in the French styled house. That where the radio is and serves as a sort of a headquarters building for Muang Sao.”
We passed a Royal Lao Army Platoon smoking and joking outside the house as we entered. Once inside, I looked around, the radio was sitting in the corner of the living room on an old dusty desk. It was hooked to a tactical generator for power which I check for gas, it was full. I gave the pilot a quizzical look as if saying; okay where do I go from here?
In response to my look, the pilot called the Lao Lieutenant who was in charge of the platoon inside and introduced me. Lucky for me, he spoke Thai; I had only picked up a few Lao phrases by this time.
The Lieutenant said, “My orders are to assist you, let me know if you need anything. I got some other duties, anything you need from me now?”
“No, go ahead and do your thing,” I replied
He turned and left.
I looked at the pilot and asked, “What now?”
“I leave and go back to Vientiane, those are my orders, if you have any questions I suggest you use the radio.”
With that, he also turned and left, I listen to his STOL take off and I was alone in the house. I did have the Lao platoon outside and that eased my mind a bit. I decided to wait until 1800 hours before I called Vientiane and asked what the hell I was doing up here. Bud did say report in at 1800 hours, not before, I would wait. I was hungry and thirsty, so I headed toward the kitchen to see if anyone had thought to leave me some food. There I found five cases of C-Rations and a case of warm beer. Cold C-Rations and hot beer, I made a meal of it, all the time thinking about Pawn and her good cooking back in Vientiane. I did not have time to let her know I was leaving or when I would be back. I didn’t know myself when I would be back. I hoped she would understand. I liked that gal.
At 1800 hours I made my radio check, Bud was on the other end and all he said was to make another radio check, same time tomorrow and out. He hadn’t given me time to ask any questions. I was still in the dark as to why I was here. I went outside and had a chat with the Lao Lieutenant; he was more than willing to provide me with all the ice I could use and sticky rice I could eat. He showed me the sights of Muang Sao, the village about a quarter of a mile from the airstrip. It contained 16 houses, with a dirt road running down the middle of them. It had no bars and hence no bar girls to aid in passing my time, but it did have a noodle shop that sold beer and Lao whiskey. From the aroma of the cooking taking place in the shop, I knew I would be able to buy me some hot meals and not have to rely solely on my C-rations. I could survive, but it would be without Pawn’s cooking and her favors. So it went day after day, my only contact with the outside world was Bud's 1800 hours radio check. He would acknowledge me with roger, out. End of radio check, he was not about to tell me what the hell I was doing up here.
After three weeks of this, I was at my wits end. Frustration had set in. Three weeks and still no idea of what I was doing in Muang Sao. I was pretty sure by now, Pawn had given up on me and found a new boy friend and that also added to my frustration. I went to the noodle shop and bought a bottle of Lao Lao, Laotian rice whiskey to drown out my sorrows and cure some boredom. The Lao Lieutenant was sitting on the desk, next to the radio when I got back. I wanted company, so I offered him a drink, he accepted. I found out he had lived in Bangkok a few years back, my old duty assignment and we started bullshitting and drinking heavy. We just about finished the liter bottle when he let something slip or did I? No matter, I guess I told him of my adventure up at Sam Thong, the Lieutenant laughed hard, it was a laugh that said he knew something I didn’t, not a ha ha funny type of laugh.
“OK, Lieutenant, what’s so funny?”
“You dumb American, Sam Thong no headquarters, just refugee center, have school for kids and hospital. I go Sam Thong four or five times a year.”
“I know what I did there, it was just about a month ago, I had the hill toppers fire on the NVA. I might have saved the day for your side.”
“Refugee center, Sam Thong is just refugees, school and hospital. Nothing more, no communication center, no operation center, just radio to keep in touch with Long Tieng. Long Tieng is headquarters, CIA, Vang Pao, fancy communications.”
“Look, I know what I did, you’re drunk.”
“Not drunk too much, I worked out of Long Tieng many times, CIA, General Vang Pao’s headquarters, many Lao, Hmong, Thai, American works at Long Tieng, no need you speak Thai, Sam Thong is nothing but refugees.” You make up pretty good story.”
Being accused of making up a story of what happened at Sam Thong made me mad, I told the Lieutenant to get out.
My mind was in turmoil, I sensed the Lieutenant was right, everything he said had a ring of truth to it. I now wished I hadn’t kicked him out, I needed to ask him more questions, I needed to find out what the hell was I doing here. I wanted to find out if I was being played for a sucker, if so, why?
I went outside looking for him. I found him around back eating fried rice with the rest of his platoon. After apologizing profusely, losing some face in front of his men, I offered him another drink and asked him the $64,000 dollar question.
“If what you say is true, what the hell am I doing here?”
“Tests, Bud tests you, first to see if you speak good Thai, second to see if you keep mouth shut. Here, to see how you react without other Americans around, how you get along with Lao, how you follow his orders. See if you panic or carry on.”
“You know Bud?”
“Yes, we go back long time, good man, helps kill many NVA and PL. Soon you help too. Good night dumb American.”
I told him good night and went back into the house. My mind was racing with a thousand unanswered questions; I didn’t know what to think, much less what to do. I tried to sleep, but couldn’t, the Lieutenant's words haunted me. Long Tieng, I knew was a secret base within the secret war. But to expand thirty or more rounds of artillery on a test, made no sense. But then again, I might have been in Laos only a couple of months now, but in that short time I saw all sorts of strange things that made no sense. Was it possible all that firing might have been part of a training exercise? Done to make me think I had accomplished something extraordinary. I didn’t know.
When morning came, I went looking for the Lieutenant, I couldn’t find him. I asked a couple of his men where he went, their answer, “Bo Lu,” Lao for I don’t know. I thought about radioing Vientiane, but decided to wait until the 1800 hours check. That would give me the day to think about what the Lieutenant had said. I had to decide how would I approach Bud with this information and more important, whether I should I approach Bud with what I had been told or not? I spent the next three or four hours in deep thought, trying to figure out what to do and what I would say.
A little past noon, I heard the sound of the STOL returning to the dirt strip. I watch it land and saw Bud crawl out of it. I headed towards the plane, still uncertain what I would say to him. Then I saw the Lieutenant who had told me all those things last night standing right behind him. Where in the hell did he come from?
Bud spoke first, “I want to introduce you to Major Somchai, he’s not Lao, he’s Thai and yes, everything he told you last night is true. I put you through these tests to see what you were made of.”
“Why”
“I need a good commo man; I know you are good at communications, I got a dossier on you from your time in Bangkok, that’s one of the reasons you’re here. I need someone who don't ask questions, who can get along with the locals, be they Thai, Lao, Khmer or Viet. I need someone who can keep his mouth shut and obeys orders without hesitation. Someone who can improvise and adjust quickly to situations, a man who keeps his head and does not panic, one who will work for me, cover my ass, be willing to break protocol or anything else that gets in our way of accomplishing our mission. Accomplishing the mission is the number one and only priority, nothing else matters. You interested?”
“Yes, can I ask you one question?”
“What?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“You may find out in time, and then again, you might not.”
I passed his tests, on the downside Pawn didn’t wait for me to return from Muang Sao. She got tired of waiting for me and found a new boyfriend, I had left without telling her and she was a working girl. I understand, but sure do miss her cooking.
Bud pulled me out of the Attaché commcenter and moved me into his house in Vientiane. I now belonged to, worked for and answered only to Bud, so am I still part of Project 404 or something else? You may find out in time, then again you might not, will I? |