He dug around in his clothes and came up with the picture I.D. It was him all right.
"Okay, now the DD 214."
He dug around more and he came up with a much folded DD 214 which he unfolded carefully and held up for my inspection. I reached for it and he pulled it back.
"No, no, that's not part of the deal. No touching, no touching."
His tone was different. I'd heard that tone before. He expected to be obeyed and he was. The DD 214 supported his story. It all matched. Much later I thought of fakes and forgeries, but at that moment I believed.
I plucked a twenty dollar bill from my shirt pocket and wished him a good night. He said, "Thanks," and that was the end of it. I'd noticed by his dates that he'd been in-country during the Tet offensive.
I went off to my meeting, nodding at the statue of the doughboy as I entered the hall. I sat on a hard chair and listened to loonies argue for three hours that there were still POW's in Russia from WWII, that North Korea still had POW's from the Korean War and that hundreds of American soldiers were slave laborers in Southeast Asia (and piss poor workers they'd be, I thought). But I never saw a shred of evidence, nor did I believe any of it for a second. But I didn't really believe mamasan about the Tet offensive and I didn't believe the panhandler about his being a tunnel rat either. What do I know?
I think about mamasan and wonder about her. Was she a serving colonel in the Viet Cong? A nice, middle-aged lady who gave good advice to a young American soldier? Or both? If I'd stuck around for another tour would she have done her commie duty and put a bullet in my worthless ass and render me incapable of typing another memo. Can't type standing up.
If, when the office complex had been overrun by VC and/or NVA, could I have gotten my.45 out of the office safe and put a bullet in Mamasan if she'd attempted to kill me or destroy my carefully maintained file system and my suspense file on congressional investigations?
I would never know, for I took her advice and went home and left the U.S. Army. I never returned to Vietnam, but I did watch the Tet offensive on TV. And did think of mamasan, and I did wonder what she and Dead Head Ed talked about in their endless conversations.
I never found out what happened to my file system or my suspense file or the large office filled with people who I had known well, who I'd worked closely with for months and who I'd been to countless office barbecues with.
I wondered, but, I never tried to find out. I didn't really want to know. I was afraid I'd find out that they'd died at their electric typewriters in the chill air-conditioned atmosphere of USARV HQ while I sat at home in Seattle watching it all on TV.
I thought I was all done with this piece but totally by accident I stumbled on a letter from my army buddy, Dead Head Ed, that I'd forgotten I'd ever received.
It's postmarked Dec. 26, 1967 from Santa Maria, California. Ed had left Vietnam before me, so he had no information about Long Binh that I didn't have. I didn't save my answer to his letter, but I did write on Ed's envelope that I mailed it 6 February 1968. I wonder if I mentioned the Tet offensive or asked Ed what he and mamasan talked about.