My Terry and the Pirates saga occurred on a barrier island off the coast of Quang Tin, then in I Corps, Viet Nam. Ferried to the island by two of the meanest looking Nungs, we tried to determine if the contingent of strange ethnicities needed medical supplies. We were unable to meet with their commander, reportedly a handsome older woman and known in the capital, Tam Ky, as the Dragon Lady. Her cohort had held the barrier island for years. After a pow-wow we were escorted back of the island to the mainland by four unblinking Asians. The unit was being paid by the CIA, and I have wondered whatever happened to them when I Corps fell to the Communists. If arrangements were not made for their exfiltration I feel sure they were slaughtered up to the Dragon Lady herself.
Running recon jobs just prior to the, um, *incursion* into Cambodia in 1970, we were picking [and marking] targets for bombing by the USAF via radar navigation, day or night, known as *Operation Menu.* And then my dad passed away in Chicago, with his remains being sent home to Indiana for thew Funeral. I got notified by a Red Cross representitive, who told me that the paperwork for my emergency leave and flight home was in process and would be completed as soon as I paid him a $400 *processing fee.* In cash. Which I didn't have.
Sp like a good troop, I went to my immediate supervisor, a Captain who blew up, having been shook down himself by a Red Cross Rep when his own father had passed away while he was in Korea. He certainly didn't want to see the poor Red Cross man get hurt, so he assigned a pair of Nungs to *escort* the guy, after telling them to beat the snot out of him daily, and to break his leg if he tried to leave the camp. Oh, and the Nungs didn't speak English.
I was sent out by Marine H-34 helo to a US Army artillery fire base, by Huey from there to Tan Son Nhut, then made it to Indiana the day before the services [thanks to a very helpful USAF Major who got me space available seating on a 2-seat fighter trainer he was ferrying from Scott AFB/ St Louis to Wright-Patterson in Ohio] When I returned to my boss he arranged for me to catch a ride in with our boss, who wanted to have a nice chat with Mr Red Cross, after which he'd decide whether or not the guy was going to be killed in a terrible accident on the way back.
We had a real short chain of command: my immediate boss was the captain, his boss was a full colonel, and his wore two stars. The guy whose helo I rode back in was the two-star. I don't know if the Red Cross guy made it back or not. The floor of that D-model Huey was awfully slippery. Operation Menu was declassified by President Clinton in 2000, way to late for me to be able to tell the whole story to my grandmother or my dad's two brothers.
The Nungs were great little guys, kind of like Gurkhas without the sense of humour.