January 11, 1967 Chapter 1 A Chronicle of Hobbying

[guest042011]

Someone in chat brought up the subject of the first time with a provider and as the talk went on, I mentioned my first escapade.

I've started writing a Chronicle of my hobby experiences and this is Chapter 1 written about a year ago.

This is for those who requested to read it.

tra


We Wake Our Children

"The Battle of A Shau was waged in 1966 during the "Vietnam War" between the "North Vietnamese Army" and the forces of the "United States" and "South Vietnam". The battle began on March 9 and lasted until March 10 with the fall of the special forces camp of the same name. The battle was an outright victory for the North Vietnamese; it was nevertheless a costly battle that U.S. estimates suggest cost the attackers almost half of their force."

Willy Ratliff carried me out of the A Shau Valley after nearly 2 days of non-stop battling. Noise beyond the imagination, death of our brothers-in-arms, fear and sadness never to be equaled. My body was weary and beat up but my mind was on hold and never to be quite the same 'beautiful boy', as my mom called me. I'd grown up in a hurry and would struggle a lifetime to maintain my happy-go-lucky spirit, yet I had survived. Now, on the corner of Clement Street, there sat Willy under a cardboard box cover. His home, complete with candles and just about anything one could want. Willy had survived too, but his outlook on life had been minimalist over these last 43 years and he was still a hero of mine. He slogged the two of us out of the mess, me on his shoulders, his strength still in tact, and never looked back. Here in San Francisco Willy had found a place near the Veterans Administration Hospital to live out his days tortured in the darkness, a lot like me, yet in one piece.

Over the last year taking the morphine they'd given me for my pain, I began to have dreams, crazy dreams of things that didn't make sense. For example: the other night I woke up from a deep sleep swatting the pillow next to me, running from something I couldn't recall, yet in complete and total fear of whatever it was. Willy recalled the same kinds of things. It was a reminder of how delicate the mind is. It really is clear that it doesn't take much to shake the human spirit or cause one to do things that are abnormal.

My tinitis is something caused by the unknown, yet I'm told that the 'zip zip zip zip' of the fire fights and of course the VERY loud music I'd experienced beginning mostly in the 70's and there it was again consuming my every fiber with the constant volume in the middle of my head. I hadn't realized it until recent explanations, but the tinitis began during our stay in the A Shau Valley, 'zip zip zip zip'.

After our first shower in many days, now after New Years attempting to purge the ugliness from our physical beings again, we were off to Saigon for R&R, and this is where my life changed forever when it came to the subject of young women and me. Here we were in a bar, drunk off our asses, trying to forget (the impossible), admiring the view of the young Vietnamese women just wishing we could feel the lovely warm, silken sensation surrounding not only our bodies but inside our fragile minds. Willy and I had somehow managed to stay together in the same outfit since A Shau and now were going to finally get to really laugh it up for once.

And here is where I was introduced th Anh. My beginning of paying women for sex. And, as we're called now....becoming a hobbyist. January 11th 1967

I'm sure she was the single most gorgeous sight I'd seen in months; perfectly proportioned. And, here I was being propositioned by someone I called MamaSan, who obviously was Anh's mother. This woman was screeching at me in that high pitched, monotone that cliche' we've all heard after dark in Asian environments.....'She love you long time G.I.', and.....'C'mon G.I., you try, you like'. Dee-Dee-Mao! That would be the English version of what was being said and in a curious way struck me as cute and funny at the same time. Not only had Willy trudged me, heartbroken out of the abyss, but he'd also introduced me to MamaSan. Willy was a player. A man of great wisdom and incredible charm, Willy had resources for everything. But, by far, this was the most intriguing connection I'd seen from him. Willy had access to as many as 10 or more young women in Saigon and had promised me all of them. And, I was hell-bent for leather to give it a try with all the energy I'd saved up over the last year or so.

And, now.....there sat Willy. Dirty, unshaven, almost completely toothless and that nasty shade of brown men become when homeless and stinky. Fingers burned by the cigarettes he simply allowed to burn through his skin. Camel unfiltered cigarettes. Stinky like the latrines in The Nam. And, frightful in appearance. My hero, the once outwardly rich in character and spirit, Willy Ratliff, now a broken shadow of the man who once led an entire (surviving) platoon away from the horrors of war into the brilliantly, neon soaked night life of Saigon to chase ladies with a fervor reserved for men who were horny with a capital 'H'.

And as he did we sang, drank like there was no future, and fucked. Outwardly and with the glee of teenagers just out of puberty, yet having become men in a way that defies the human spirit. Fucked in a way that would make our mother's blush. After all, sex was to be reserved for those who were in love as explained by our Catholic, Baptist, Christian and otherwise puritanical families.

And Now We're Men

Saigon is a bustling city in the south of Vietnam also known as Ho Chi Minh City bustling with life, scooters buzzing a mile a minute through the streets and little communities settled in the most indescribable locations. I wondered how people navigated the city without being eviscerated by these motorized, 2 wheeled weapons. And, to say the women are beautiful is a substandard description of possibly the most gorgeous young ladies in the world.

MamaSan put "bánh cuon" and other of the 5 elements in front of me and told me to eat with the voice of authority. Having learned from Willy that it's an insult to pass, there I found myself eating stuff that resembled worms and other delicacies fit for the most strident of locals. Considered an honor to be fed like this before bedding down.

Anh; a diminutive, angelic looking young woman, with a certain blush to her cheeks, perfectly proportioned and fetching in her demeanor, a lot like many of the young working girls I've met throughout my life. I could never describe her truly, but the one word I've used so often in my life when recounting this story is magnificent. She had a full length white, silk kimono adorned with brilliant embroidery of a delicate, very light orange, with full length pants of a turquoise color that looked a little like a sports outfit, common today. Resplendent! Her jet black hair reaching her knees, straight and shimmering shiny and gleaming white teeth smiling at me from behind the shy little girl that she was. So, there I was shaking with glee that I was certain to find out how wonderful it felt to match up with a beautiful woman for the first time after exchanging money. MamaSan settled on $14.00 U.S.D for me to spend the night with Anh and we retired to her room in the back of the hut with something similar to a batik curtain and beads, separating us from the rest of their home and proceeded to bathe each other with my loins just raging, yet in no hurry realizing that I would re-live this for a lifetime. During the night as she sat on top of me, buried into her up to the hilt, I could do nothing but look up and marvel at her beauty. And there it was....the warm, wet, silken skin engulfing me like perfectly fit glove. Realizing that this was a young woman meant for this endeavor, destined to spend her younger years making men happy. Knowing that one day one soldier would spirit her away from her home and make her his. This was a rollicking good time I must say. Not a little bittersweet in recalling now years later.

I'd finally stood the test of the time honored relationship between a man and a girl for hire and I was a happy man. Tired, sweaty and satiated we slept until light and were greeted by, you know who, with breakfast of sticky rice (xoi) and more. More to my liking, I ate like a man on a mission, standing to bow, thank them both and watch as Anh sidled away in to the back of the home, looking over her shoulder, and with an expression so soft and clearly full of gratitude, disappeared.

Later in the day back in the bar Willy simply grinned at me and promised me girl #2 by nightfall, spilling his guts, drunk, a mile a minute telling me that where we'd been in battle had made us men (to a degree) but that staying the night with MamaSan and Anh was the true measure. I'd become a REAL man now and would never look back. And, in his typical way, guffawed out loud and ordered another.

Now 43+ years later, Willy in his cardboard mansion, I realized that his words were prophetic. I'd become a man on his watch both times. I'd survived the worst of the worst battles possibly of the entire Vietnam conflict, landed in Ho Chi Minh City and become a man thanks to Willy. And, here began my education and the search for knowledge of this world. Sometimes dark and fearful, mostly filled with great joys only reserved for those of us who would break through the barriers. Puritanical and otherwise.

We Woke Our Children