The door closed almost silently behind me. I walked a few steps to the table and pulled out the chair on my side. I continued to stare into Nguyen’s no longer twinkling eyes and the newfound smile I’d seen at the hotel was gone. I sat down and waited.
“How can I help you?” I finally said, knowing from history that Nguyen had the patience of an alabaster sphinx, and about the same unchanging expression when he chose to display it. I wasn’t sure he was in the room needing help, so I presumed while proceeding to start some sensible dialect with the rather new creature before me.
To get into the basement of the embassy and then have a private room to discuss anything with whomever the embassy thought I was, well, was a bit odd, to say the least.
“You are already giving me that,” Nguyen replied, adding the mystery of his presence.
“I am?” I asked, not understanding at all what he could need that I’d already supplied without having a clue as to what it was.
“I went to them and told them that I was with you,” Nguyen said, looking down at the tabletop instead of into my eyes as if he’d somehow violated some code or rule.
Questions rose up unbidden and raced through my mind. He’d told who what? How had he come to be in Korea? What was he doing in the room and under what guise? Was I being tested in some arcane fashion I couldn’t begin to comprehend?
“Why are we here?” I asked, not wanting to go anywhere that might reveal anything about what I was doing in Korea or why I was also inside such a secure room.
My trust in Nguyen was complete. There was no way I would have survived the A Shau without him and the Gunny, and a few others not so vitally involved at the time, but no longer alive. I was on a mission to accomplish a mission while learning and not teaching, however.
“They sent me to see you,” Nguyen replied, after a few seconds, the delay in his comment adding to the mystery of his presence.
“You’re not a doorman at the hotel,” I said,
“No, I was just there to greet you but there was no place to talk, and the state security people were all around for some reason.”
I was relieved to know that the men in black had probably not been there to check me out, except for the fact that I was a new foreigner staying at the hotel.
“Why do we need to talk and how did you come to get into the embassy and down here?” I asked, keeping my comments short and to the point.
Nguyen didn’t reply, instead turning his head to stare at a spot on the wall to his left. I looked at where he was looking. The ‘spot’ was a very small box attached to the wall. I didn’t recognize the device but assumed it was either an audio receiver or quite possibly video as well. Technological advances in that area were proceeding worldwide at a ferocious pace even though I couldn’t imagine that either Nguyen or I were important enough for such equipment to be there simply to surveil us.
“Our green cards expired, and renewal was denied. I can’t even get back into the country and to our home.”
I was relieved to begin to understand that somehow, beyond my ability to understand, Huang had gotten to Korea and into the inner workings of the embassy by using his former relationship with me. How was such a thing possible, I was left to wonder, but right now I needed a phone and to get connected to Herbert back at Langley. There was no point yet in discussing Nguyen’s problems until we could meet somewhere else that wasn’t under the invisible receptors of the Agency or State Department. I got up, walked around the table took Huang by the arm, and led him to the door.
“Wait right here until I come out,” I instructed.
“What have you become?” Nguyen asked, his voice a whisper, as I held the door open.
A member of what I presumed to be the embassy staff was standing there next to Nguyen, but it wasn’t likely they would have much to say to one another, not that it mattered. When leaving the hotel, I’d scrawled the number for the public CIA number in Washington. Most people were not aware that such a number would be in the yellow and white pages of that directory. Calling it connected immediately to a human attendant who would then ask if he or she could be of help. Any answer to that question was hung up on immediately unless the answer was a code number. There would be no further discussion until a duty human intelligence agent picked up the transferred call. The CIA number was in the books and listed so agents with problems needing direct phone contact could get through. I pulled out the slip with the number on it, asking to have an outside line connected to the phone inside the small room.
The man looked at the slip of paper and then handed it back.
“The line will be live to call anywhere so you can dial it. USA country code from here is 011.”
The country code was the same as anywhere abroad I might call a US number from. I closed the door and went over to the phone. The man obviously had picked up on the fact that I was new to international travel. More decisions were being made about me than I could keep up with.
I sat down and dialed the whole number. After a few weird clicks and whistles the call was picked up at Langley, or wherever the call-in center was located.
I gave the woman who answered the code I’d never used nor had much confidence would work.
“O104359,’ I intoned slowly, making sure to be as understandable as possible.
There was no comment from the woman. I was almost instantly connected to another agent.
“Nature of your request?” the voice said, as if tired from using the phrase over and over again.
I looked down at my Seiko and calculated that it was just before eight a.m. in D.C. If Herbert wasn’t there then the Agency would find him, I knew but timing, when using the embassy phones might become a problem and the critical nature of Nguyen’s situation was weighing heavily on me.
I decided to simply ask for Herbert to call me and that it was urgent, even though my plans for the companies to be assembled and put together for helping Americans in need of medical insurance abroad and as covering operations to be staffed partially by trained field agents wasn’t truly time-sensitive. If the man on the phone with me couldn’t help Nguyen, then urgent would be an understated message. I owed Nguyen my life, several times over. Just the psychological lift of having him ever present in the jungle around me had done a lot to keep me going as long as I did. I breathed in and out slowly and decided to give it a try. I told the man about what it was I needed for Nguyen and his wife, presuming that since his children were likely born in the USA, they wouldn’t need green cards. They were already citizens. I finished and waited for almost a full minute before the man spoke again.
“Are these people assets to your mission?” he asked, finally.
“Yes,” I lied, realizing I wasn’t more than 48 hours into my first mission, and I was already lying to the Agency.
“Been here five years and in the current state of residence for more than ninety days and not left the country for more than six months?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered, not knowing and starting to feel that I was simply guessing too much and would have to get something wrong if this continued.
“I need an INS number from one of their cards,” the man said, and from his tone, I knew that information would be a deal breaker if I couldn’t come up with one of those numbers.
“I’ll be right back,” I replied, putting the phone down softly on the table’s hardwood surface. I ran to the door and jerked it open. The tableau was just as I’d left it moments before, with both Nguyen and the likely embassy employee standing just as I left them.
“Your green card,” I said, hopefully, as I stuck out my right hand, and then felt relief when Nguyen reached for his wallet. “Your kids were both born in the USA, right?” I asked, “And you and your wife have been here in the country for five years.
He produced the card, pulled the semi-tattered thing out, and handed it to me. I looked at the front of the ugly little card. U.S. passports were beautifully made and wonderfully designed so I was surprised that green cards were not only not green but that bad looking. I read the nine-digit number from the front of the card, although there was nothing on the card that said it was an Immigration and Naturalization System Card.
“I’ll put it into the system, and they should clear and have everything researched by sometime tomorrow. His new two-year card will come by fax tomorrow if it all checks out and her card will come to whatever the home address is by U.S. mail.
“What’s all this checking?” I asked, marveling at the fact that the Agency could work with the INS and Department of State that quickly and effectively.
The next day was like right now to me.
“He must go into detention at the embassy there until we’re done, and this is the Agency son, so we check everything all the time. Just because you had the right number to get to me doesn’t mean somebody else didn’t get it from you under a bit of duress.”
“Really,” I said, rather derisively, “How many incidents have there been where the right number, but it was the wrong guy or gal?”
“Never, that I’ve heard of, but you might be the first.”
“What does detention mean?” I asked, wondering about where Nguyen would be taken.
“Where you are,” the man replied, his tone taking on an edge as if he thought I was the dumbest agent to ever call in, which I likely was. “The embassies around the world have secure offices or cells as they get questionable characters coming to them all the time. It’s not that long but we have to know if something goes wrong here, we at least have him in U.S. custody. Herbert will probably call you within the hour since you feel the call is urgent.”
The man hung up the phone. No goodbye or anything like that. It was good to know that the number in D.C. worked the way it was supposed to, just as it was good to know that Nguyen wasn’t some sort of informant, real asset, or employee.
How he had been led to where I was at the hotel or was coming to Korea at all, remained a mystery, and why he’d left the country only to have his green card expire were bothersome bits of information that irritated me but it was good to see him and also to help.
I went out to bring Nguyen in to update him, and the embassy guy came right along with him like he belonged there. All of us stood and looked at one another.
“His green card will be faxed tomorrow but until then he’s in your custody, I presume.
“We’ll see about that,” the guy said, not bothering to introduce himself, and not giving off one shred of any nice or kind emanation. “He’s been in. my custody since he arrived here and waited to meet with you. The embassy was kind enough, against my better judgment, to allow him to meet you and now create whatever the hell this is. Who are you?”
I took out my Marine Corps I.D. card and showed it to him. When he moved to take it from me, I pulled it back and stared at him.
“I’d like to make a copy of that, lieutenant,” he said, still holding out his hand.
“Section 71, Title 18 U.S.C. does not permit the copying without proper authorization of a U.S. military I.D. card, of which this is one,” I replied, analytically while putting my I.D. back into my wallet.
The man pulled his hand back. “We copy all kinds of I.D. cards here and I’ve never heard that one before.”
“Those felonies are yours to commit out here at will, I guess, but not with me,” I replied, trying to keep my voice as even and flat as I could. I didn’t want Nguyen treated badly because of my conduct.
“I don’t really believe that,” he said back, but his tone had softened,
“Do your own homework and check out what I just told you. It may save your job someday.” I turned toward Nguyen.
“They tell me that your green card will be here by facsimile machine sometime tomorrow. Do you have any money to fly home? I didn’t really want him to leave the country right away, as I had to somehow build an identity and story to justify what could become a very damaging lie and possibly career-ending punishment even before I became a real agent. When I’d signed up with the Marines one of the first things I had to do was take the oath. With the CIA there evidently was no oath. I’d simply taken the money.
Nguyen shook his head so slightly only my old relationship experience allowed me to see it. No money, which meant I’d have to get some cash to cover his travel and get him home. Herbert’s call was going to be quite something, as my list of stuff I was going to need was skyrocketing. Herbert hadn’t mentioned a budget for this mission, so I had no idea about the limits. I’d just go until I hit a financial wall, I knew and wasn’t totally uncomfortable with.
“I’ll send a car for you as soon as I can find out about the green card,” I said, not expecting, nor getting an answer from the man who’d been so ebullient and well-spoken in English at the hotel.
He’d pulled back into himself, and I understood. The valley remained deeply embedded inside all of us who’d survived its devastating effects. Remain silent, run, hide, and if trapped with none of those options open, then fight like hell until you go down or die. From an old Tarzan novel by Burroughs, I recalled the author’s use of that phrase and how it became famous. I couldn’t remember the quote, but I did recall it wasn’t something written that complimented men.
“We’ll send him there in a car ourselves,” the rather mollified man said. “It’s best if he leaves Korea as soon as possible.”
I looked at him closely and he noted my attention and backed up a few steps.
“Do you happen to know anything about two security guys, dressed in suits with polished shoes, no less, who stopped me outside my room to ask for identification?”
“Ah, no but it sounds like civilian attire of special investigators of the ROK Special Forces. That kind of attention you don’t need, and neither does the embassy. What are you doing here and when are you leaving?”
I smiled at the man, gauging his rapidly changing verbal comments more than what he was saying.
“I think that question’s probably above your pay grade but then, I don’t know your pay grade either. Do you get many visitors like Nguyen and I?”
“Like him,” he pointed his right index finger toward Nguyen’s chest but didn’t touch him, “All the time.”
He didn’t go on although his expression seemed to indicate that he wanted to.
“I need to see you tomorrow, once you’re a real citizen again,” I said to Nguyen.
Whatever story I needed to cover him I was going to tell, regardless of the size of the lie. He was one of my Marines, maybe better, and there was no way I could abandon him to the swirling winds of fate that had come to surround him. I also needed answers to my questions about how he’d come to be in Korea if I was going to feel secure.
“There’s no way I can stay here and wait for Herbert’s call,” I started to say to the embassy man before he cut in.
“He’ll find you.”
I walked to the door without saying another word. It was useless to continue any discussion with the embassy person of unannounced title and Nguyen didn’t need any further instructions or words of commiseration or sympathy. He was a player of uncommon survival caliber and capability.
As I exited the embassy, going through a one-way circular gate like one might find at a park or zoo in the U.S. I noted the long line of Koreans waiting to be processed through but lost my train of thought when I realized my car wasn’t there. The driver hadn’t waited. The etiquette of such things in Seoul was another thing I knew nothing about. Back home just telling a professional delivery vehicle driver to wait would result in a refusal or quote of what the additional cost would be. One of the Marines guarding the gate and managing the slowly moving line of people was standing out near the broken curb. All the curbs in Seoul seemed broken and the roads were in one state of repair or another. I told him where I wanted to go and then asked how I could get there.
The corporal smiled and waved his hand high in the air. I noted that Marine wore white cotton gloves, generally only worn on formal occasions.
A loud three-wheeled vehicle pulled up to us, its little motor letting out obnoxious sounds and likely noxious exhaust in continuous gray puffs.
“Tuk-tuk,” the corporal said. Take you anywhere for a few bucks American.
I asked him why he wore the gloves.
“People, so many people, and not all of them wash very much.”
I climbed into the seat next to the driver, looking at the row of moving Koreans one last time. They all looked spotless to me. I was finding Korea to be surprisingly clean and well-kept, except for the roads, curbs, and the tuk-tuk, of course.
The trip back to the hotel was much faster than I would have thought, given the traffic. The tuk-tuk driver was a little on the wild side, which I came to like, yelling at citizens on the sidewalk where he occasionally drove the little maneuverable thing to avoid a traffic jam. The ride was open-air. In the winter or the middle of summer, as Seoul had all four seasons, might make such a ride more problematic.
My mind, when not jerked back to reality by some crazy move of the outrageous but effective vehicle I was in, could not escape the number of worries I was suffering from. Worry about Nguyen and his family. Worry about the lies I was telling and preparing to tell, and worried about whether my corporation Ideas might be found to be totally insane, as I knew zero about the insurance or medical treatment policies and practices in Seoul, the rest of Korea, or, in reality, the rest of the world outside of the USA.
The tuk-tuk pulled up to the hotel entrance. I climbed out and handed the driver a twenty. He held it in the palm of his hand for a few seconds, staring at it and then up at me.
“You go out again?” he asked, shoving the bill into his ragged shirt pocket.
“Yes, later,” I answered, wondering why he was asking.
“My name Ho, I wait over there,” he said, not waiting for a response, as he pulled the machine up on the curb and drove it over to a small alcove by some potted trees.
I turned to go into the hotel lobby, but no Huang Nguyen standing there making me believe he was a doorman. I smiled at the thought, as it only now occurred to me that the doormen were all wearing uniforms and he hadn’t been. I was going to need more experience and training to pay attention better.
The one worry I hadn’t thought about greeted me as I stepped inside.
The same two security agents in black came forward from wherever they were waiting. Waiting, obviously for me. A shiver of fear went up and down my spine, but I beat it back by telling myself that I was simply an American businessman visiting a foreign country.
“Your passport,” the shorter of the two men asked, standing in front of me and blocking my way even though it wasn’t quite that way in such a large room.
“You already did that,” I replied, “and the hotel has my passport as some kind of security, I think anyway.”
“You have business with the ambassador,” the other man said, as I felt my first rush of relief.
They were there about whatever my potential new business partner might be involved with.
I thought quickly and then blurted out some truth.
“I’m here to provide Americans visiting your country with medical insurance so they can pay your doctors and hospitals for services they need.”
“What is this insurance?” the other man said, like some sort of verbal tag team effort.
I pulled out my wallet slowly and removed one of my old Mass Mutual cards.
“I also sell individual and family life insurance,” I began, and then went right into Tom Thorkelson’s memorized sales presentation I never gave to any of my prospects. “Are you interested in saving money?”
“What?” the short man asked, showing expression for the first time.
“If you are interested in saving money,” I went right on, “then I have a plan for you. Only fifty dollars a month and your family will be protected, and you can pay in Won. Let’s make an appointment so I can meet your wives and let them know the benefits they’ll receive when you die.”
“Die,” both men said together, looking at one another.
“Wait here,” the taller man said, as he grabbed his partner by the arm and pulled him away.
I stood waiting, guessing what the response was going to be from being in the business long enough to know that most people simply wanted to run if approached directly to purchase a life insurance policy.
There was no response. They both walked to the front door and exited the hotel without saying a word. I put the card back in my wallet, glad that I’d not cleared them out before coming to Korea. I didn’t want anything to follow me, at least easily to my new Bankers Life connection.
I wanted to get to my room, order a cheeseburger using room service at outrageous cost, no doubt, and get my thoughts together before talking to anyone from the Agency, including Tony Herbert, but it was not to be.
One of the front desk clerks walked up to me as I turned to approach the elevators.
“You have a private call in business reception room three,” she said, pointing across the expanse of the huge lobby, where a row of regular-sized wooden doors lined the wall.
I wearily walked to the door with a small, but brightly polished, brass three was screwed to the upper frame. Slight polish marks were left around it, barely visible but noticed by me. The brass was pure, not lacquered or any of that, which meant that someone had to polish the letters every day. I shook my head and stepped inside. The interior was like an American telephone booth but larger, with a padded seat and a small shelf to put an attaché or briefcase on.
I picked up the phone and heard it click before the voice I knew so well began to come through.
“What in hell are you doing?” Herbert yelled, “And how can this be mission-related? You do understand that neither State nor INS or anybody can pull this shit with impunity?”
“Did you approve it?” I asked, holding my breath, knowing that Nguyen’s very life might be at stake.
“Hell, I didn’t have to approve it, that’s automatic when you’re on a mission, but stuff like this will probably assure you never go on another.”
I said nothing, my relief letting me breathe again as the training of my life insurance gurus of Thorkelson and Bartok kicked in to guide me. The phone buzzed a bit and clicked. I waited for eleven clicks before Herbert spoke again.
“What else do you need, and have you got some sort of resolution?”
Herbert’s voice had returned to normal, and I knew things were going to be alright, and then there was a knock on the supposedly private door. I had to put the phone down as the cord wasn’t long enough. There was no peephole, so I opened it. I sucked in a sharp breath and stared. It was the two guys in black again.
“Yes,” I got out, my nerves about to give out.
“We buy this life insurance you sell,” the taller man said, as I almost collapsed.
“Nguyen’s very life might be at stake.” Not for the first time you two have had each others back !!
Great captivating chapter from your first overseas mission !!
Semper Fi
Thanks Sgt.Bob. Yes, there was a definite shared life affinity thing going on there.
Thanks for noting that. Most men don’t get combat friends in life simply because so few survive real combat,
as opposed to television and the movies, like Band of Brothers or The Pacific.
Much appreciate the compliment too.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
Again, your abilities to operate ‘on the fly’ – I imagine some folks can ‘learn/be trained’ on the basics, while some folks seem to be born with it – You were born with it.
2 things stuck out to me in this chapter. First – Regardless of the impact on themselves, a leader takes care of his personnel first, then themselves. You’ve demonstrated that from day 1 of “30 Days”. I know/help some homeless folks that have puppies – It’s obvious to me that the puppies’ welfare comes first, than theirs. Not entirely the same as you, but nevertheless, the same.
In this case, the way you’re helping Nguyen & his family ‘on the fly’, regardless of the effect on you, your new job, Mary, the kids – Demonstrating your concept of being a ‘leader’. I believe too many of today’s ‘leaders’ never got or read the memo. So many questions reference Nguyen – Looking forward to future chapters on that alone.
And second, your ability to put ‘Nguyen’ aside for now, immediately re-focus/re-load & get back to your mission. Another true asset to your future life.
Some items from the “Comments”:
Your reply to Tim that with power comes with unknown strings & prices & not being free. I think most folks don’t even consider/factor those in to their decisions until after the fact & for those that are stupid don’t care nor think those factors apply to them –They are the most dangerous.
About not wanting to be alone or be a babbling old man – You won’t be & if you think any of this is ‘babbling’, well – Babble on.
About there being “a supreme being up there or down there” – I believe there is a supreme being up there – watching, letting us choose our paths, letting us learn the hard way at times, helping us at other times. As for the being down here/there, Satan, he’s already lost & can only hurt people & drag them down. Oh – The “ride” ain’t over. Just sayin’.
And agree, “Life’s accidental humor” is the best. At times, I’ve laughed at myself so hard that I’ve almost peed my pan… Wait – That didn’t come out right. I mean … Never mind.
Sincere regards my friend,
Doug
Danko, the clear-headed hard-charging reader and supporter any author would love to have. And one that eruditely comments as well.
Amazing. It’s good to be your friend and read your work about my work. It’s also nice to be so well thought of because I don’t always
have those thoughts about myself…and I know you udnerstand that down to your very foundations too.
Thanks for the usual educational and fantastically supportive comment.
Semper fi, my friend…
Jim
Jim,
“supportive”? Sometimes it’s easy, a no brainer and deserved. Sorry – Just is.
“educational”? ehhhh. Had to look up “eruditely”. First off, it’s a ‘5 bagger’ (Number of syllables.) – Good job. Then saw the synonyms – sapient, wise, knowledgeable, educated. “sapient”? – Was that with a long ‘A’, like ‘say’ or a short ‘a’, like ‘tree sap’. Another ‘look up’ – “relating to wisdom” – Like in “educated”?
Oh hell yes, I is educamated – And I got papers to prove it! Blew right past Kindergarten to the First grade and them “papers” and certificates started flying like a snow storm outside of Pittsburgh! (Ok, ok, ok – We didn’t have “Kindergarten” back then. But if we did – Whew!) Anyways, it started with the “Painter Writing System” certificate of Good Writin’. Maybe it was called
“The Palmer Method of penmanship”, I forgit. I do know that it was called “Cursive” writing. (Well, I mean I know now.) And them “papers” just kept a’coming.
Kinda sad that it isn’t taught much anymore. In 10 or 15 years, someone will find a copy of the Constitution written in cursive and they’ll wonder what ancient civilization wrote this.
Then in 4 or 500 years, someone will find some rolled up scroll and call it “The Eggplantetta Stone”: It will have “Cursive’ on the bottom, easily read “Printing” in the middle And “Chicken Scratch” on the top. It will be studied for generations.
Recently read that many schools have adopted “keyboarding” as an alternative to “cursive” handwriting instruction. I remember it was called “Typing 101” back in the day. One of the best courses I ever took. And no – Nowhere near 125 wpm, even in my prime.
Question: For something to be called an “alternative” for ‘something else’, for example, “keyboarding” for “cursive”, doesn’t the “something else” have to be what is currently the ‘primarily’ used method for doing something? “Cursive” is certainly not the “primarily” used form of writing?
Regardless, thank you Jim & regards.
Hooah, my friend.
Doug
Oh – I’m sure you know that “Hooah” implies three steps of a four-step process: receive the message, process the message, acknowledge receipt of the message, and then act on the message.
And here I thought we came up with “Hooah” because the Marines already had “Oorah”. Though in fact, the Army was using “Hooah” back in 1841 – Juuust a bit earlier than the Marines “Oorah”. Ain’t Google grand? Ditto for ‘spell check’.
My dear friend Doug, the Marine grunting battle cry of UUUUUUuuuuraaaaahhhh came from God knows were,
just the the army version. I don’t believe anybody over time recorded the origin. That’s just me.
It’s weird and it’s also very much a derivative, probably, of heavy drinking!
Thanks for the pithy comments up and down the board. I read them assiduously and they make me smile
at having a friend so, well, different, as you most definitely are.
Thanks for what you write on here, for me and for all the other readers that read your work (there will be about 300).
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
I was bummed that I never got to ride in a tuk-tuk in Mumbai. They had always fascinated me, gearhead that I am.
So glad that you are reconnecting with Nguyen, albeit under initially trying circumstances with many questons hanging, all the while trying to accomplish your first mission with a paucity of information.
I’m with the bated breath crowd,waiting on the explanations.
Thank you again for the entertainment.
Thanks Tim, much appreciate the compliment of your wanting more. The tub tub thing was something and still goes on
although not as pervasive as it once was. Cheap, quick, economical and sort of, but not always, fun.
Semper fi,
Jim
James, LT, JR. What can I say. When I read the line containing NGUYEN’s name, my heart jumped in my throat, and I caught my breath. Having wondered what happened to those around You while in The Valley of no return. I seem to recall some comments from The Gunny’s Son about some of this. All I can say is that You have been BLESSE !!! God Bless Stay Safe Stay Between The Ditches.
Thanks George, most sincerely. Yes, a few of the Marines who survived, and Nguyen, resurface was life begins to
play out, as you are reading. The Gunny survived and you will read more about this in later volumes, although I have
never heard from his son. Thanks for the caring and supportive comment as well as the compliment of the comment’s writing.
Semper fi,
Jim
The final sentence is a classic.
Those words bring back so many fond memories. ~~smile
It has been my good fortune to have you along for many of the exploits and adventures through the years.
A man of honor and integrity crossing a land and world where there isn’t a suffient supply of either.
Thanks Chuck, my friend,
and Semper fi,
Jim
This is amazing chapter keep em
Coming LT
Thanks Robert, I am on it right now. Last place to the next chapter in minutes before edit and publish.
You help give me motivational help here.
Semper fi
Jim
DELIGHTED, to say the least, to begin learning a lot more about Nguyen and his circumstance. I would love to be a fly on your shoulder and be a witness to all that transpired this day. Strange encounters in a strange land. You have GOT TO throw us a bone and tell us how Nguyen KNEW you were going to be at that hotel on that day.
Cannot believe you are about to sell life insurance to a couple of South Koreans. Which will probably end up getting you in hot water with someone… Was there NO life insurance option within S. Korea for those two guys who like to shadow you and look at your papers? I bet people today in S. Korea are still telling stories about that odd American fellow they met back then. I feel sure you left a wake there.
Layers of people within the embassy and within the Korean government, and within the hotel itself check on each other–and you. Not to mention the strong possibility of NorK agents who would be working and lurking about in S. Korea who might have an interest in you. Can you trust the “secure” phone in the booth at the hotel?
Assuming everything you do and say is being monitored, recorded, or whatever. My advice for you is, if you don’t know who to trust, then trust nobody (except, hopefully, Nguyen). But if all works as planned (no sure thing) Nguyen will be flying back to U.S. soon. You might want to keep him there with you for a while as your dependable sidekick to watch your back.
What a ride you take us on…
Seems you are gradually, little by little, getting the chapters out earlier. Was Thursday, then Wed., now Tuesday evening. Not complaining. I like it and don’t know how you juggle everything during the week in your real life.
Blessing to you and yours.
THE WALTER DUKE. Only you and possibly Colonel Jim Homan, who was over there with me, predicted that the ‘doorman’ might be
Nguyen. I was amazed, as the chapter was mostly written that revealed that but not published. You are remarkable.
The next chapter should satisfy you a bit about that special man and what he was doing there. Sometimes I feel like “The Wandering Jew’ with all
the strangeness of that mythical creature attached to me. I can’t explain it. I will write more about some things after this coming chapter when I can explain better
so as not to ruin the chapter for everyone else.
Thanks Walter, my friend,
Semper fi,
Jim
Wow, talk about thinking on your feet!
Too true, Bill, and it was like that trying to figure out how the world worked beyond U.S. borders.
Thanks for the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Crazy life you lead!
Well, Joseph, compared to so many people I guess you have a good point using excellent observation.
Semper fi,
Jim
Awesome read.
My only question is how did Nguyen get to you or at least find out where you were.
Can’t wait till the next chapter.
This question will have an answer in the next chapter so stand by.
Thanks for the comment and the compliment of wanting to read more.
Semper fi,
Jim
That is a very good chapter it seems like everything happens to fall in place incredible running into Nguyen someone had to lead him to you
Great writing LT.
Thanks for the motivating compliment as I work on Chapter XXIV now.
Semper fi, as things ‘fall into place’ as you put it.
Semper fi,
Jim
Awesome read.
My only question is how did Nguyen get to you or at least find out where you were.
Can’t wait till the next chapter.
Good morning James!
Thanks for another excellent chapter 😀 Meeting and saving Nguyen and his family’s life after what he did for you … what a payback!
To have that kind of power … what a great feeling that must have been for you!
Dealing with all those people you didn’t know or what the outcome would be … in a foreign country! Bravo Sir 👏
Well, Tim, to have that kind of power came with all sorts of strings and prices,
as time went by. Yes, you can get to a point in life were you can influence the
course of lives around you but it’s not for free. Thanks for the great compliment and
the most interesting of comments.
Semper fi,
Jim
Loved the ending! Build the tension and “what’s next?” and end with the menacing secret agents wanting to buy insurance. I didn’t see that one coming and doubt many of your readers anticipated it. Good job.
Thanks Rhay. I don’t write what happened in order to set up the audience and the stuff you are reading sounds so
surprising because it was and, at least when I reread it, gives me a feeling of authenticity simply because
unless you’ve lived some of that stuff it would be very hard to invent.
At least, in my opinion. Thanks for the compliment too.
Semper fi,
Jim
WOW! This just simply can not be a life story. This has just got to be fiction, if not science fiction! JR., you gotta come clean now … and qjick! You have to be stringing us all along. Butttttt, either way I will not say I am sorry to have read this far. Please continue to regale us with more! Maybe my tired ole mind can stand it. It is twisted into pretzels now. Help me to straighten it out.
You are reading ninety-five percent, or so, reality and that’s coming clean.
Some of it is simply hilarious because it was. I know that all through my life
credibility has been an issue and I haven’t, in many cases until now told such great swaths
of the story. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be one of those garrolous old men
ignored while they babble either. But I am glad to be laying it all down before I cross over
onto the other side.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank You! I am straightened out now. Please continue with the regaling.
Gotcha Chris, and thanks for saying that here.
Semper fi,
Jim
What a hell of a journey you’ve been on…
Indeed, it has been. To follow the path of my adventures is to come to believe that there must
be a supreme being up there or down here having something to do with it.
That I’m here at all is astounding. What an amazing ride it’s been.
Thanks for the neat comment and your support.
Semper fi,
Jim
I could not believe Nguyen has come back into your life again James. I have been waiting for a week to learn more but now have more questions than ever. Your coolness under questioning is amazing. I have just read this chapter twice and now can only wait and wonder for another week how you are going to extricate yourself from the present pickle while somehow learning how to navigate the two new cultures you were thrust into. I admire your gravitas and am so thankful for your service to our country and proud of your honoring your debt to Nguyen.
Nguyen return was a shock, not that there weren’t a few more to come from him and others.
I am starting the next chapter tonight. Usually it takes me only a few days to complete one
as writing a rendition of reality mostly from memory (I have 67 volumes of journals but those did not
start until 1985) than making stuff up as I go…and some of it can’t be made up as even the most
intense of research would be more than lucky to turn up some of those oh so true and valid details (like the the
wind, exhaust, sidewalk driving tuk tubs or the near family-like loyalty of a driver.
Semper fi, and thanks a lot.
Jim
With all the heavy intrigue , I had to smile at the last line 🙂
Yes, funny that the last line came right there. It wasn’t really planned that way. I wrote it and then checked my page
count and realized I should stop. I reread the words and then had to laugh myself. Life’s accidental humor is sometimes
the best. Thanks for the great comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
Thank you Jim.
You are most welcome Ted!!!
Semper fi,
Jim
A lot here; Tuk Tuks, Marine Leadership and BS! The first Tuk Tuks I saw were in Olongopola, then India and finally Mainland China when they graduated from animal driven transport to motor; they must be a sign of domestic progress!
The real rush for me was the realization of your description of our responsibilities to our men. Were driven to lead down, not lead up!! I killed myself going to bat for those who I worked with under me and pretty much ignored those above me who thought I worked for them!
Lastly, it is amazing what one can get someone to believe if one has the balls to ask!
Oh, I think your CIA code # has a 0 first not a O like 0102949
Colonel Homan, my experienced and friend from the valley, or at least above that hell hole. You are right about the number. The first integer is
the number zero. Sharp eyes, as ever. Generally, you get someone to believe what you want them to believe because they already want to believe it,
which means you better be pretty damned good at knowing what they believe and how much you are capable of modeling yourself to fit into that scenario.
Thanks for you own original and well described thoughts and your experience in leading Marines, as you did others when you left the Corps to become
a Mercenary. Working for the Agency was like being a mercenary but with a much larger, more powerful and less organized outfit behind me.
Thanks, my great friend,
Jim
Welcome to the wonderful world of spook hood! Baptism under fire is how I read it. You are now reaching the bottom of the rabbit hole, but wait there is no bottom, you just go deeper and deeper…. Awesome chapter sir, Semper fi!!
The introduction was, as you are reading, without much of an introduction. Only later would I find out
why I was sent in the way I was, but that’s another part of another chapter up ahead. Thanks for the compliment
and support of your usual pertinent and accurate comments.
Semper fi,
Jim
Good Morning James…another great chapter. Here are some editorial comments.
I wasn’t sure he was in the room needing help so I presumed while proceeding to start some sensible dialect with the rather new creature before me.
Need a comma after help
“No, I was just there to greet you but there was no place to talk and the state security people were all around for some reason.”
Need a comma after talk
A member of what I presumed to be the embassy staff was standing there next to Nguyen but it wasn’t likely they would have much to say to one another, not that it mattered.
Consider a comma after Nguyen
“Yes,” I lied, realizing I wasn’t more than 48 hours into my first mission, and I was already lying to the Agency
Need a period after Agency
“Never, that I’ve heard of but you might be the first.”
Consider a comma after of
I took out my Marine Corps I.D. card and showed it to him. When he moved to take it from me I pulled it back and stared at him.
Need a period after me
“I don’t really believe that,” he said back, but his tone had softened,
No comma after that
Herbert’s voice had returned to normal and I knew things were going to be alright, and then there was a knock on the supposedly private door.
Need a comma after normal
There was no peephole so I opened it.
Need a comma after peephole
Thanks Mike, for picking up fabulously where Dan left off.
I sure hope Dan keeps reading and commenting although I have not heard from him in awhile.
You can get burnt out doing this sort of thing…or so they tell me. I’m more like the Energizer
bunny doing the writing.
Semper fi,
Jim
That is a very good chapter it seems like everything happens to fall in place incredible running into Nguyen someone had to lead him to you.
Great writing LT.
Thanks Pat, and yes, it seems that there is a whole lot more in our life that just happens without our control but
requires participation. Thanks for the observation and the comment.
Semper fi,
Jim
brilliant
up early
The demons came about 3 o’clock this morning and I just got I read your story such great writing and so entertaining and I could never live in that world I have a terrible time living in this world where people lie and can’t be trusted in a business situation you eat the bear some days the bear eats you keep writing James
Sorry you have been going through a rough patch my friend. Thanks for the encouragement here
and I hope if you need that or anything else from me you’ll get on the phone.
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Oh my goodness, Jim – great chapter, and that last line about knocked my socks off!
I recall Nguyen quite well from “Thirty Days” – the man is a Godsend. I hope he will be as great a help for you in days to come, Korea or the States.
But selling life insurance to the Korean Security troops has got to be a fantastic leap, for sure – the icing on the cake, so to speak.
Next chapter reveals some mysteries and I’m glad you’re back in the saddle with access and notification again.
You are an important player in the life of this effort and I cannot thank you enough…or worry about you more!
Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
James, you are the master of surprises! The tiger in the jungle, the crocodile at the upside down tank, Mickey Thompson souped up your GTO, Nuygen grinning at you in Korea, damn!
Keep writing, keep spinning that web!
Life was a kaleidoscope back in those days, it turned and there was a new wild
image that appeared around every corner. I knew Mickey was playing with some tough
players when I was at the racetrack winter nationals in Half Moon Bay way back there.
Three black Cadillacs showed up and Mikey went over to talk to someone in the lead car
who never got out of it. They talked through a darkened window a few inches down.
Mikey’s body language was kind of revealing. Things weren’t going well there and then
the three cars were gone. Never found out anything and never suspected much until Mickey and his
wife were shot to death in their own driveway.
Semper fi,
Jim
Jim,
DELIGHTED, to say the least, to begin learning a lot more about Nguyen and his circumstance. I would love to be a fly on your shoulder and be a witness to all that transpired this day. Strange encounters in a strange land. You have GOT TO throw us a bone and tell us how Nguyen KNEW you were going to be at that hotel on that day.
Cannot believe you are about to sell life insurance to a couple of South Koreans. Which will probably end up getting you in hot water with someone… Was there NO life insurance option within S. Korea for those two guys who like to shadow you and look at your papers? I bet people today in S. Korea are still telling stories about that odd American fellow they met back then. I feel sure you left a wake there.
Layers of people within the embassy and within the Korean government, and within the hotel itself check on each other–and you. Not to mention the strong possibility of NorK agents who would be working and lurking about in S. Korea who might have an interest in you. Can you trust the “secure” phone in the booth at the hotel?
Assuming everything you do and say is being monitored, recorded, or whatever. My advice for you is, if you don’t know who to trust, then trust nobody (except, hopefully, Nguyen). But if all works as planned (no sure thing) Nguyen will be flying back to U.S. soon. You might want to keep him there with you for a while as your dependable sidekick to watch your back.
What a ride you take us on…
Seems you are gradually, little by little, getting the chapters out earlier. Was Thursday, then Wed., now Tuesday evening. Not complaining. I like it and don’t know how you juggle everything during the week in your real life.
Blessing to you and yours.
THE WALTER DUKE. Hey Walt, this comment appeared earlier and I answered it but the last part I didn’t.
I begin writing the story on Wednesday of the week, but don’t do much of this tory except to sequel the last chapter into the beginning of the new one. I usually get back to the project on Sunday morning and finished the first draft by Sunday afternoon. Let it lay overnight and then go back through it on Monday morning to see what I might want to change. Total time to write and finish a chapter is about six hours. I think pretty quick, recall pretty accurately without having to consult outside sources and type like a bandit (about 125 words a minute!). There, that should give you an idea.
Thanks, my friend, for the always interesting and penetrating comments.
Semper fi,
Jim
LT how in hell does all these people know where you are all the time? A bit of humor here and there in this chapter. You obviously scared the hell out of the Koreans when you is the term die.
Thanks for the great question, to be answered later, of course,
The Koreans didn’t ‘scare’ nearly so easy deep inside their own
developing country but I get your drift.
Semper fi,
Jim
Just opened up a big can of worms.
Thanks for the short but accurate comment Harry!
Semper fi,
Jim