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The Nam
The Nam
The Nam
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The Nam

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"The Nam!" By John Dee & Katt Lynn
Whether; you were in "The Nam!", or not; "The Nam!' is for you.
Whether; you were in the military, or not. "The Nam!" is for you.
Whether; you are in the military, or not. "The Nam!" is for you.
Whether; you were against the war in Vietnam, or for it. "The Nam!" is for you.
Whether; you ran away to Canada, or stayed home and protested. "The Nam!" is for you.
Whether; burnt your draft card, or volunteered; "The Nam!" is for you.
If you are old enough to join the arm services; "The Nam!" is a Must Read.
John Dee & Katt Lynn brings you the Vietnam War, as it has never been seen before.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherJohn Dee
Release dateJul 2, 2014
ISBN9781310060441
The Nam
Author

John Dee

Traveling the world for fifty years I picked up some "What ifs" along with a large amount of "it could have happened(s)," and smattering of truth is stranger than fiction. (not true)I am an Irish Texan born for yarn spinning.In the "Also" category; international tour guide, exploratory mineralogist, (did I spell that correctly?) and custom gemstone buyer.

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    Book preview

    The Nam - John Dee

    THE NAM!

    BY

    John Dee & Katt Lynn

    Smashwords Edition

    *****************

    Published

    By

    Smashwords

    ****

    The Nam

    Copyright 2014

    By

    John Dee & Katt Lynn

    ****

    Cover Art By Katt Lynn

    ****

    Smashwords Edition License Notes.

    This E-Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

    You know the rest of this speech; so do what's right.

    ****

    Thank You;

    John Dee & Katt Lynn

    ****

    Table Of Contents

    ****

    Preface

    Forward

    Chapter: One: 1964

    Chapter: Two: Fast Boats, Fast Money, And Fast Women!

    Chapter: Three: Unexpected Meeting

    Chapter: Four: Panama Red & Maui Waui

    Chapter: Five: The Black Noise Finder & Disaster

    Chapter: Six: Dancing With the Big Girls

    Chapter: Seven: Who Talked?

    Chapter: Eight: The Protection Racket

    Chapter: Nine: Pollywogs & Shellbacks

    Chapter: Ten: But, I Didn't Do It!

    Chapter: Eleven: Fishing Boats, Firefights, & Admirals

    Chapter: Twelve: The Nam

    Interlude

    Chapter: Thirteen: A Six Pack

    Chapter: Fourteen: The Admiral & A Reunion

    Chapter: Fifteen: The Reason for War

    (Interesting interjection at this point.)

    Chapter: Sixteen: Mamma San & the Cherry

    Chapter: Seventeen: Party up River

    Chapter: Eighteen: Ranches, Cadaracs & 33's

    Chapter: Nineteen: Convicts & Hookers

    Chapter: Twenty: Out & Up

    Chapter: Twenty-One: Rabbis & Preachers & Priest Oooh MY!

    Chapter: Twenty-Two: Ski

    Chapter: Twenty-Three: Rung Sat

    Chapter: Twenty-Four: Fireworks; up Hill

    Chapter: Twenty-Five: Outstanding Planes and Bodacious Ideas.

    Chapter: Twenty-Six: Hole; What Hole?

    Chapter: Twenty-Seven: King of the Mountain

    Chapter: Twenty-Eight: What's Wrong on the Mei Cong?

    Epilog

    Preface

    ****

    Don’t know much about this writing thing, so if I fuck up the preface/forward procedure; don't get on my ass.

    OK?

    Just bear with me a little while and everything will be copacetic.

    I promised some friends, back state side; I wouldn’t get political writing this book. Fat chance on that one.

    Don't expect everything to be in the correct order, because in the Nam, you didn't count days of the week; you counted days left.

    The names of people, places and things are totally fictitious.

    After all; some of the folks mentioned in the book are married. A few of them were even married back in sixty-six; or at least somewhat seriously engaged during the time covered by this book.

    After years of exhaustive research; two items of interest have come to my attention.

    Apparently; I was the only one who inhaled back in the sixties. But substantially of more importance; I was the only American service man, who partook of the pleasures offered in the South East Asian brothels.

    At the time; I would have sworn the client list included thousands upon thousands of officers and enlisted men. But when I talk to my buddies these days, all I get is; Nope, didn’t do that. Don’t even know where the 'Texas bar' is.

    So ladies; if your husband was up in the 'I Corps' area, or down in the delta; rest assured he only went to the 'Thunderbird' on base, on the hill, or the officers club.

    If you hubby did go down town; he only went to the 'USO', or maybe to the 'Blue Moon', where the young ladies sat with their hands folded demurely, while they talked with him. (Must be two blue moons; I don't know.)

    At the present time; I feel we have the need to identify, just what, actually did transpire in South East Asia.

    To me; if it looks like a war, smells like a war, and taste like a war; it is a war. Just be glad you didn’t step in it.

    You don’t grab your rifle and strap on your battle pack, then travel 7,734 miles for a situation or conflict.

    A conflict; is whether you go bowling, or to a movie Friday night.

    A situation; is if your mother in law doesn’t like you. Learn to live with it!

    When ten opposing gang members fight over turf in the city; the bureaucrats, six o'clock news and papers call it a Gang War. To me, if the word war is the proper label for ten punks engaged in a street fight, then it is dam well good enough of a word to use, when a million or two are fighting over some turf in South-East Asia.

    So with, or without your consent; I am going to call the thing, which transpired during the sixties and seventies; located in and around Viet Nam, Cambodia and Laos, a fucking WAR!

    You have my permission to call it the same. Like you really need my permission. Call it whatever you want.

    Sorry: I will not get political; I will not get political. Breathe in; breathe out.

    Next on the agenda; is to explain to you why I am writing this damn book in the first place.

    Well; I was up at the V.A. last week and my very own 'Gold, Silver, Emerald, Diamond Team' Doctor suggested I go to a 'group session' on the third floor. She believed a little 'closure' would be good for me.

    What the hell is closure anyway?

    Nevertheless; I went up to the third floor and listened to eight strangers attempting to out sob each other. They were having a pissing contest in 'Poor Me.'

    It was about the time (We shall call him Joe) was crying about a buddy who died thirty minutes after they had drank a beer together.

    (Mortar Attack, Fire Base, two clicks from the 'D;' go figure.)

    This would be around the time I blew a gasket.

    It was a war, Joe! People fucking die in a war, Joe! That’s why they call it a war! Mothers, Fathers, Sisters, Brothers, Aunts, Uncles, Sons, Daughters, Fiancés, Buddies, and Best Friends die in war; on both sides. Anyone killed in a war fits two or more of those categories!

    I will not get political; I will not get political.

    Apparently; I went into the room on the third floor of the V.A. hospital, needing closure. I left that same room; still needing closure, plus now, I had issues to work out.

    So much for the V.A., but then again, that’s a book all by itself.

    I will not get Political, I will - - - you know how it goes.

    We shall now attempt the futile task of explaining the armed services to those of you not fortunate enough to have spent any time in them.

    This is an impossible assignment, but I shall undertake it anyway.

    Vets bear with me.

    The U.S. Military is run by the U.S. Government. That alone should say it all, but it doesn’t.

    Imagine for a moment; your life is in the hands of the U.S. Post Office.

    You are a letter in Blythe, California and you want to go to Palm Springs, California 98 miles away. Outside of the Post Office is a destitute hitch hiker, with the same aspiration.

    Wait a minute!

    You are not just any old letter; you are Priority Mail! A step above the rest!

    It is three P.M. Friday, and the race is on!

    Our hitch hiker walks the four blocks to the freeway and sticks out his thumb; while you are unceremoniously dropped into a bag marked 'Out of Town' with a thousand other letters, both priority and common.

    At five-o-two P.M. our hitch hiker is picked up by a movie director headed to Palm Springs for a meeting with a Producer, to discuss a new film.

    You; meanwhile, are still sitting in the dark with your fellow letters.

    At six-fifteen in Palm Springs, our director has decided the hitch hiker is perfect for his latest movie and the producer agrees. They find him a room at the Marriott, and give him some spending money for new clothes.

    At a quarter to seven; you are still in the dark, as your bag is picked up and put on a truck headed for the Phoenix Hub (sorting station).

    Nine-fifteen catches our cleaned up hitch hiker, having dinner and cocktails with the director and producer, who have already scheduled a screen test for tomorrow in Burbank; while you are being tossed in the direction of another bag, marked L.A. Hub.

    But the night shift postal worker is thinking about having a brew with the gang around midnight and tosses you into the Denver hub bag by mistake.

    Again; you are completely in the dark about what’s happening to you.

    At 2:36 A.M. you are on your way to Denver, while our hitch hiker is enjoying the Jacuzzi in his suite with his first fan.

    Three o’clock Saturday afternoon; the screen test went perfectly and our hitch hiker just signed a five million dollar contract, with the help of his new agent. You by the way are still being bounced around in the truck; in the dark.

    Sunday morning; our new star puts a deposit down on a two million dollar house in Malibu after buying a Porsche, while you are waiting for 'Monday Sorting', at the Denver

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