Cao boi (pronounced “cowboy”) had a different meaning to Vietnamese than Americans though both got their “knowledge” from a flim (movie). Since my father lived in the land of Hoa Thinh Don (Washington) and Hollywood [a Vietnamese map I had from the time gave both equal prominence] it didn’t affect him but it did me. I was never invited back.
A major I worked for at the time seemed to really love those guys. After all they were on the same side as us unlike the CIA, which seemed to be on its own side and, in any case, we recognized the CIA as a clumsy, ignorant and impotent enemy. Another major wasn’t quite so fond of the Vietnamese secret police. He had been discomfited by the screams of a man being “beaten with electricity,” skills learned from the French with tools left by the French Foreign Legion. The secret police accommodated that sissy American by moving the interrogations to the other side of the compound. Later that great American hero, JFK, got us to adopt the methods of the French with a vengeance.
I really never thought at the time of my own innocence that Americans would ever be choosing up sides on the issue of torture. JFK didn’t brag about it so much when his Special Forces entered the arena and there were no pictures.
Live and learn I guess.
Some learning is not so good.
Best, Terry
1 comments
But there are pictures.
Hidden under the sweat soaked pillows, blurred and yellowed by time and Trazadone.