By Doug Bradley
Once it finally sunk in that I was 9,000 miles from my family, girlfriend, and most everyone else I cared about – and would be for the 365 days I’d spend at war in Vietnam—I decided that I needed to invent another family if I was going to survive my year away from home. Lucky for me, I did. Twice over in fact!
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Once it finally sunk in that I was 9,000 miles from my family, girlfriend, and most everyone else I cared about – and would be for the 365 days I’d spend at war in Vietnam—I decided that I needed to invent another family if I was going to survive my year away from home.
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My first Vietnam family was comprised of my fellow REMFs – Rear Echelon Mother Fuckers in Army parlance – whom I worked alongside in the Command Information office at the U. S. Army Republic of Vietnam Headquarters (USARV) in Long Binh, South Vietnam, and lived in close proximity with in the IO hooch! Most of us were draftees – college grads as well as Army journalists – and nearly all of us were against the war. And while our musical and literary tastes might vary, our brotherhood was forged on keeping our heads down and doing our job while we grew our hair and mustaches as long as possible.
Ample doses of alcohol, cigarettes, and pot did a lot to keep us together as well. Yes, during my time in country, these men were my family, the ones whose counsel I sought on questions of war and peace, death, fear and homesickness. Women too. Always wondering about women . . .
My other Vietnam family belonged to Nguyen Thi Mai, or “Miss Mai” as we called her, the petite Vietnamese secretary/receptionist in our office. Miss Mai was more than just window dressing in a drab Army office in the heart of sprawling Long Binh Post. She was a ray of sunshine, hope and promise to us scared and homesick GIs. During the most difficult days of our 365-day Vietnam tour, Miss Mai believed in us and what we were doing.
Among the many happy moments my best friend George and I spent with Miss Mai in Vietnam, one stands out: being invited to have dinner at her home in Saigon just before our tour was up.
George and I got lost trying to find her family’s house on Tran Quang Dieu Street in bustling, dangerous Saigon. When we finally arrived, Mai, though a little put out, presented us with a bountiful feast of, stunningly, steak and spaghetti! To this day, I don’t know how she was able to find such good American food to serve us, but it was the best meal I ate during my year in Vietnam.
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Ample doses of alcohol, cigarettes, and pot did a lot to keep us together as well. Yes, during my time in country, these men were my family, the ones whose counsel I sought on questions of war and peace, death, fear and homesickness.
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That night, as we dined by candlelight in Miss Mai’s home, her large, extended Vietnamese family relegated to huddling in the next room out of earshot, it was hard for me and George to remember that we were soldiers from a foreign country who’d been sent here to fight in a war. Even though the war was ubiquitous and all consuming, we never talked to Miss Mai about it. The war was our link, it was what had connected us and brought us together, but we’d never discuss it.
George and I departed Vietnam within days of one another in November 1971. When I visited him and his family in D. C. later that year, we reminisced about that meal at Miss Mai’s house, her infectious enthusiasm and goodwill. Not knowing what would happen a few years hence, we feared for her and her safety.
“She’ll never get out of Vietnam alive,” was our quiet consensus.
But thank God we were wrong. Miss Mai is back in our lives now, as are several of the guys from the IO hooch—thanks to the Internet. I need to remember to thank all of them for helping me to survive, for being my family when I needed it most.
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ABOUT DOUG BRADLEY
Doug Bradley is a Madison, Wisconsin-based Vietnam veteran who has written extensively about his Vietnam, and post-Vietnam, experiences. He was drafted into the U. S. Army in March 1970 and served as an information specialist (journalist) at the Army Hometown News Center in Kansas City, Missouri, and U. S. Army Republic of Vietnam (USARV) headquarters near Saigon. Following his discharge and tenure in graduate school, Doug relocated to Madison where he helped establish Vets House, a storefront, community-based service center for Vietnam era veterans.
In addition to writing a blog for the Huffington Post, Doug is the author of DEROS Vietnam: Dispatches from the Air-Conditioned Jungle (Warriors Publishing Group, 2012) and co-author of We Gotta Get Out of This Place: The Soundtrack of the Vietnam War, voted a Best Book of 2015 by Rolling Stone.
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