Veteran's Day

My Fantasy, Ft Bragg, 1979

His Reality, Vinh Thanh, 1967

My father sent small B&W Agfa prints home during the war. His comments from that time were written in ink. I wrote a screenplay based on his experiences in Vietnam and during a visit in the 1995, I gave him all the photos I had from Vietnam and asked if he would share any memories with me. We sat on my patio after dinner and smoked and drank. He flipped through the pictures saying little. The next morning at breakfast he returned the pictures with comments printed in pencil.

Ft Bragg to Chapel Hill

UNC - Chapel Hill Mid '60's

Dad, Sunchon Street, Ft Bragg, NC March 1966

Dad, Central Highlands, South Vietnam Summer 1966

Written earlier for my blog, "I'm Here to Leave." For a new Army Brat friend.


I remember my father coming home but rarely his leaving. Except once.

We took him to Pope Air Force Base. A short drive from our quarters. He kissed my two sisters goodbye. He kissed my mother goodbye. He turned to me, poked my chest with his finger and said, "You screw up once while I'm gone and I'll come back and kick your ass. You got that?" I nodded and he turned and walked away to Vietnam. I watched him swagger to a C 130 with a duffel bag on his shoulder, his green beret cocked at an angle.

Had he not come home -- That would've been my last memory of him.

I'm not sure any eight year old would understand him. I did. A little. I expected to be treated like a man when he said goodbye. We spent a lot of time with each other the year before he left. Racing slot cars at  Hay Hobby Shop. Riding in his Berkley at local SCCA events. Taking his dare and eating a sardine he held out as raw fish. He was never chatty but we had our moments. Now he was gone and I felt ease settle over our house on Sunchon Street.

The move to Chapel Hill took the ease and put it on an island in the Caribbean with palm trees, coconut drinks and ocean breezes. Everything about Ft Bragg disappeared and I saw that civilian life was not the pawn shops, strip joints, car lots and bars I saw on the other side of the main gate. The University of North Carolina looked like a giant officer's club and Carolina blue became my favorite color. I went into the record shops downtown where my mother picked out the latest Herb Albert and Tijuana Brass album and I lusted for Beatle's 45s with the yellow and red Capitol label.

I was enrolled in my first Catholic school in June but had three months of summer when we moved into a house in the country. Older grad students and faculty lived in the same small houses tucked away in the woods with long drive ways and a concrete storm pipe at the beginning of each. By the end of the summer I had crawled through every one.

There was an art class I attended with my sister. A student lived in an apartment in an old house on campus and gave classes in the back yard. We sat around a subject and plopped water colors on the spongy paper while the sun looked down on us. Color was everywhere. In the red brick of the campus buildings, the white of clap board houses and the green of pines everywhere.

And in 1966, there was khaki and madras as well. High water trousers, white socks and crew cuts were still in vogue although longer hair was growing in popularity with the Beatles. There was also talk of the Rolling Stones but they were associated with hoodlums and communists.

Our next door neighbor was in dental school. He was married and had a little boy who liked to drop rocks on toads and poke a wasp nest with a stick. The future dentist also had a Mustang convertible and a color tv where we all watched Cinderella. I thought it was a terrible waste of color.

Farther up the street were a Canadian couple who had a white Volvo 1800 and a West Highland Terrier named Donald Bane. He was getting his doctorate and she had her masters. He had something to do with English lit and I remember they were always laughing... a trait I associate with most Canadians today.

Behind us was a preacher going to Duke for his doctorate in something biblical. I never remember him laughing but his son and daughter were good friends and I told my first story on their door stoop. It was about the secret life of their cat. Gerald believed every word. The next day he told me his father said I had made it all up. I admitted I had and his sister asked me to make up another story. I did but it wasn't funny.

The drama teacher who had a parcel of kids and knew the writer Paul Green personally was the coolest dad. With longish hair turning grey at the the temples, he was a writer, an actor and looked like a cross between Peter Lawford and Johnny Carson. My mother only allowed tv on weekends and I remember Friday nights where all the parents got together for a party (except the preacher) and all of us kids were put in a house with a baby sitter, the Monkees on tv and a dozen hot dogs from a nearby drive in.

I wonder if it wasn't too much too soon. I was a successful story teller. I had access to sports cars, actors and color tv. I lived a Town and Country life. Campus book stores and record shops. Swinging on a massive vine in the woods. Pondering colors and shapes as I painted.  Life was good and one day I was met at the door of my house by a sunburned man wearing a madras short sleeve shirt and a sun bleached crew cut...high and tight.

"Bob Hope's an Asshole"

Death and taxes. I was reminded of the phrase last night when I remembered I hadn't done my father's taxes. Dead for two months, the ephemera of his life -- 80 pounds worth, has been distilled to ten pounds - give or take.

In a folder was a story he wrote for me. These were war stories of celebrities and journalists he met in Vietnam in 1966 and 1967. He barely mentioned them to me and never told any to my friends despite my urging. Here, he finally does:

ENTERTAINERS:
Bob Hope's popularity was, and still is a myth! Most of us detested him, his silly-assed humor and the female teasers who accompanied him and couldn't be approached. The only way to fill the arena for his (filmed and money-making -- for him when televised) self serving shows was to give the troops the day off. Knowing that fully half the troops would stop at the first bar or whorehouse and go no further. Obviously, I have no regard for Hope and his ilk (Earlier B Hope story posted here).

Anne Margaret visited everywhere and only with one companion. Usually small units. She was charming and a good hugger who willingly posed for photos. Had a cute trick of not wearing panties and when sitting next to a grunt for a photo would raise one leg. These photos must be still be treasured souvenirs.

Most of the entertainers were selfless folks who really cared: Out of sheer boredom, I once went to a USO show in Pleiku. Roy Rogers, Dale Evans and the Sons of the Pioneers. Not at all my kind of entertainment, and I almost didn't go in. But, I was surprised! They were genuinely friendly and informal -- like visiting friends or family. Nothing phony.

Raymond Burr visited the most remote units and just sat around shooting the breeze. He wrote down proper name and family contact of virtually every grunt he ever talked to and called their families (at his expense) when he returned to the U.S.

Billy Casper flew in with his clubs and a giant bag of balls. He'd give lessons and drive balls out into the undergrowth. We wondered if the bad guys thought they were a new kind of cluster bomb.

Martha Raye really was a nurse and when she visited hospitals, she really did jump in and do the dirty bed-pan work. After work, her informal act (while downing a tall glass of straight booze) with groups of SF guys were/still are legendary humor.

Some of the best entertainment was small USO groups of relatively unknown characters. Seldom more than four to six people. Typically a couple of movie/stage hopeful girl singer/dancers taking a gov't-paid break from cattle call auditions and two old vaudeville guys playing instruments and doing their shtick. Ultra-informal and fun.

All of the above (except Hope and similar assholes) usually traveled with no entourage. Many would jump on a helicopter alone or with only one travel companion and just poop around at random.

MEDIA FOLKS:
Ranged from total assholes (e.g., Morley Safer) to sincere people who often became close friends (as with reporter Jim Galloway and the famed Gen Hal Moore). Lou Cioffi (ABC) was our favorite TV guy. Best press photographer was Sam Castan, (Look Magazine- Castan Post here) killed in action at my place. No government stooges monitored us back then. The myth was that all reporters were "Clark Kents and Lois Lanes" -- the typical U.S. citizen know-nothing view, or enemy stooges -- the U.S. authorities view.

I once spent a pleasant afternoon at my Vinh Thanh SF camp with Bill Demarest, then Senior Foreign Editor of Time. I told him just how it was (you can't do that anymore). He was most grateful and asked what favor he could do for me. I casually mentioned my copy of Time always arrived raggedy after everybody along the way read it. Thought no more about it. Surprised me a few weeks later to start receiving Time in a plain brown envelope. This continued for well over a year after my subscription expired and I was back home.

Got a call one day from 1st Air Cav Info Officer wanting to drop two female reporters from Aussie newspaper "Overseas Weekly" (aka Oversexed Weekly) on us. Paper was critical of and in great disfavor with U.S. Gov't though very popular with U. S. troops. 1st Cav Commanding General didn't want them in his camp. My Team got spruced up a bit for female visitors but were dismayed when two middle-aged dumpy gals got off the chopper.

After a couple rounds of beer, dismay turned to hilarity as "girls" told raunchy tales of the REMFs (Rear Echelon Mother Fuckers) -- both military and press corps -- and did really funny imitations of Westmoreland lying to the press. (I think this was the first time I heard the "light at the end of the tunnel" defined as the "light of the oncoming train.")

It was quite funny done in Aussie accent and done profanely -- and it was so true. High point of their visit (for them) was when they went out to use our screened in latrine and VN from all the over the camp came to see what round-eye females look like up close and personal.

Some of the very best reporters were from small town U.S. Their original intent was family features on home town GIs. When the supposedly innocent GIs told them what things were really like, some of the reporters wrote touching stories much like those of Ernie Pyle in WWII. Too bad so few people ever got to see them.

And that's the way it was....

Vietnam In HD - From The Ground Up

'Vietnam in HD' hinges on film footage of the Vietnam War transferred to High Definition. The opening uses cuts, many less than a second, to propel images at the viewer like an M60. Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump. I had to freeze frame the image of a red headed and freckled young soldier to see he no longer had a face. I'm not sure why. I guess it sums up my take on this History Channel documentary. Beyond the surface lies something more.

Growing up on army posts, the images I saw 43 years ago on the CBS Evening News were of my neighbors, friend's fathers and my father. Consequently, my expectations may be different than yours. Beneath the sheen of high def footage, cheesy sound effects and Ed Burns speaking for Joe Galloway, there are, most importantly to me, the images of a war I grew up with and have never understood.

Back then, news footage of infantrymen slogging through the red clay and rice paddies were topped off with the nightly death count. Behind Walter Cronkite, flags from the US, South Vietnam and North Vietnam represented the numbers of KIA, WIA and MIA. Numbers were high in the KIA column next to North Vietnam's flag. Everyone knew we were winning. Except North Vietnam.

Vietnam in HD delivers powerful battlefield images tenfold. Interviews with veterans are insightful and honest. It is, as Arthur Wiknik pointed out in yesterday's interview, "...about my generation of warriors. We're finally being recognized in a way that's different. It's our voices. Our feelings. Our emotions. That's what I really like about it."

Narration is shakily delivered by a brittle voiced, Michael C. Hall. Footage does not necessarily fit the battle, sound effects over silent 8mm feels contrived and 'famed' actors speak for the actual participants resulting in a clunky transition between soldier and actor. This annoying device jerked me out of the story more than once and seems unneeded.

Still, I watched the two hour screener twice in one night. It pulls you in with powerful images and despite the short comings, it delivers a story not many Americans know or ever wanted to know. If viewers are lured into watching because of the 'Golden Globe' winning narrator or 'famed' actors, then I'm all for it. The stories and the people of this war are too important.

Vietnam In HD premieres tonight at 9PM and runs through Thursday night on the History Channel.

Vietnam In HD: Interview with Arthur Wiknik

Arthur Wiknik, Jr. Da Nang - February 1970

The History Channel airs "Vietnam In HD" this week on the 8th, 9th and 10th at 9PM. Last week I interviewed one of the thirteen voices of the documentary, Arthur Wiknik. Art also wrote 'Nam Sense' a memoir of his experience as a Shake & Bake squad leader in the 101st Airborne Division as well as a veteran of Hamburger Hill.

Question I understand you were in the 101st.

Answer Yes, the 101st Airborne Division.

Q Where were you located?

A We were in I Corps which is the northern part of Vietnam.

Q The documentary footage is haunting. It really takes you back to that time.

A Yes it does. I was amazed at what they were able to find.

Q How did the producers find you, Art?

A Well, I believe they were looking for Hamburger Hill veterans and if you do a Google search for HH veterans it shows up. Part of that is because I wrote a book about my experience called Nam Sense.

Q When was your book published?

A It was published in 2005. It was a small run. A couple thousand. It came out in paperback shortly after that and sold out. It's in its third printing now. (book here)

Q Is the book available on Amazon?

A Yeah, and I have a web site as well. NamSense.com. (web site here)

Q Were you drafted or did you enlist?

A (Laughing) I did not enlist. I didn't want any part of the army. I was drafted. I graduated high school and took a year of automotive training. I was one of those guys who didn't like school and so I thought I'd take my chances with the draft. That was not a very smart move and I was drafted shortly after that.

Q What year were you drafted?

A 1968.

Q And were you an 11 Bravo? (Designation for infantryman)

A 11 Bravo. That's right.

Q Was jump school voluntary?

A It was voluntary and I did not go to jump school.

Q But you were in the 101st?

A Well, what happened to me -- You got a lotta tape there?

Q Yeah, yeah.

A When I went in, I always liked to crack jokes and make people laugh and that's followed me all my life. When you first go in the army you fill out something called the "Dream Sheet." I don't know the formal term but that's what we called it. You put down what kind of skills you have in case there's something the military can use.

I put down chaplain's assistant and the interviewer asked me if I had any seminary training and I said no...and he asked if I was going to take any seminary training after the army and I said no...and he said, "Well you can't be a chaplain's assistant. What else you got here?" I said, "pastry chef." He asks the same questions. "You have any culinary training?" I said no...and then right away I can tell he knows where this is going.

Q Right.

A So, he asks if I'm gonna take any culinary training when I get out and I said no...And he said, Well, you know what? You're going in the infantry. And that's how I got in. As a two year draftee, I was going in the infantry anyhow. I took basic at Ft Dix and infantry at Ft Polk. While I was at Ft Polk, they noticed...Well, I'm a very vocal guy and kind of a ham sometimes plus I had that one extra year of schooling and a lot of people didn't have that. So, they thought I'd make a great squad leader and they asked me if I wanted to go to Non Commissioned Officer Candidate School. I told them no because I don't want to be here...

They said I could stay in the states another six months and I said okay I'll do it (NCO Candidate School was six months long at Ft Benning). I'm thinking the war will be over by then. Maybe troop strength will be less. The war hadn't even peaked yet. I pretty much sealed my fate because that's where I was going to end up anyhow. So when I got to Vietnam and got off the plane...I don't know if you've heard of Shake & Bakes?

Q Oh, yeah ( NCOs who graduated from six month school but who lacked experience).

A I was a Shake & Bake. When I got there, we were moved over to the side and they said all you NCOs, these are the different units that need squad leaders. One of the people there said, "Sgt Wiknik, you're going in the 101st Airborne" and that's how I ended up in the airborne. I was just randomly picked.

Q I didn't know they had legs in airborne units back then.

A (laughing) At that time, there weren't a lot of guys who went to airborne training. A lot of us were legs. I'm glad you said that. Most people don't know what a leg is. If you say someone is a leg in an airborne unit they're not going to know what you're talking about. (disparaging army slang for a soldier, usually infantry, who are not airborne qualified).

Q Did they extend your time at all for being a Shake & Bake?

A No, I actually didn't even finish two years. I did like 22 months. By the time I did all my training and finished my tour I only had a couple months left and that wasn't enough time to assign me to a unit stateside.

What they did, just before I came home, they promoted me to E-6 (staff sergeant). I'm thinking, why would they do this to me 'cause I was always in trouble over there...with my superiors...I had a little problem with keeping my mouth shut. I never got busted but uh, I was in trouble quite a bit.

A few years ago I got an email from my old captain and I asked him why he would ever promote me...He said 'cause we wanted you to stay in. I said, me? (laughing) After all the havoc I gave the lieutenants. He said, "Yeah, most of the time you were right." I'm thinking, great, great, now you tell me."

Q So you got out as a staff sergeant?

A Yes.

Q Understanding you were a reluctant draftee -- is there anything about the army you miss?

A That I miss?

Q Yeah.

A Uh, I'd have to say no. (Laughing) I absolutely hated it. When I think back though -- Now that I'm older and can reflect back on my life.... it's probably one of the better things that happened to me as a young man. It put some regimen in my life. It taught me team work. It also taught me how to act on my own. Be quick on my feet. So, it did a lot for me. It was really a great experience but when you're going through it at the time -- Especially war time -- It's not very pleasant.

Q Have you see the documentary yet?

A I saw a rough cut of my episode.

Q What did you think of it?

A It was a rough cut so some of the footage was a little blurry. There were a couple small errors with dates and things like that but this is all minor stuff. Honestly, I love it. Not because it's me but because it's about us. It's about my generation of warriors. We're finally being recognized in a way that's different. It's our voices. Our feelings. Our emotions. That's what I really like about it.

Q What did you do when you got home from Vietnam?

A Well, one of the things I wanted to do was talk about the war but no one was interested. It was an unpopular war and, unfortunately, people took a lot of it out on us instead of going after the government. I had so much to tell. I wanted people to know what it was like. And I did nothing I was ashamed of. I served honorably and didn't bring any shame to my unit or my family but nobody wanted to hear it.

Q Didn't that change in the '80s?

A What had happened to me was, I kept telling people my stories and eventually some people thought the stories were funny or interesting. Before I knew it, people were asking me questions and that's when I knew I was going to write my book. Because now there was genuine interest. At least among my friends. As time went by...especially after the first Gulf War or, going into the first Gulf War, I think the American people realized they had made a mistake in the treatment of Vietnam veterans.

Q Do you see any similarities between Vietnam and our inability to win the hearts and minds with today's mission in Afghanistan?

A At my level, a squad leader in the infantry, we had very little contact with villagers or civilians. We were mostly in the jungle so our knowledge of what was going on with trying to win the hearts and minds, we had very little knowledge of that. I think that when people think of a similarity it's because Afghanistan is dragging on.

The other thing too -- I've already done my war. I have a deep admiration for the men and women today. They're doing something I would never have done and that's volunteer. I don't follow those wars as much as I did my war. I don't know why I don't. I just don't.

Q My father, for a very long time, could be cold in his combat recollections of Vietnam. He's 75 now and I've seen that change in just the last five years. He's not doing well, at all, with his memories of the war.

A When you see my episode (excerpt from Wiknik's episode) you'll see I've become quite emotional. Three or four years ago that never happened to me. As you get older you reflect more. I always think what my parents went through but I think even more about the parents of the kids who never came home. They're still living with that loss. All this stuff starts to affect me and I become very emotional when I start to think about it.

One other thing that people don't think about -- When you're in a war zone it's all about survival. You gotta help your buddies, when and if you can, but most people want to keep themselves alive and if it's somebody next to you who gets killed or wounded, you just go, "Whew, glad that wasn't me."

You try not to show any emotion and lock all that inside you. Then, it's such a relief to get out of there, you just want to put it all in the back of your mind and never think of it again. But, as you get older, those thoughts are coming out and you start to reflect on all this and you realize, "My God, we never had a wake, never a funeral. When someone dies stateside you have a way to say goodbye. Over there... you didn't say goodbye to anybody.

Vietnam In HD reviewed tomorrow.

'When We Walked Above the Clouds'

When We Walked Above the Clouds by H. Lee Barnes available here.


H. Lee Barnes on far left with 57mm Recoilless Rifle and the Australians


Barnes firing recoilless rifle

Barnes in flip flops


Barnes (in Tiger Stripe fatigues) shakes hands with Charlton Heston. Heston was considering a film role that went to John Wayne.

H. Lee Barnes 2002

In 1963, H. Lee Barnes was an Army Brat living in El Paso and struggling through college. A disinterested and alcoholic mother wasn't helped by a radio announcer step father whose constant job searches would later be subsidized by Barnes himself. There comes a time in some men's lives when they discover they don't belong anywhere. This is usually followed with the recognition that they're pretty much alone. It's a ripe moment for an Army Recruiter.

Barnes enlisted in the Army and volunteered for Special Forces. "You know that song?" Barnes tells me. "One hundred men they'll test today --Only three win the green beret? I was the only one of 50 who made it." I tell Barnes only three in my class of 88 made it and I wasn't one of 'em. I'm looking for a laugh. I don't get one.

Memories of Ft Bragg in 1965 and '66 are seared into my brain despite being eight years old. The green beret itself was something holy to me. I revered the men who wore it. My father, his team members, the next door neighbor and all the men who inhabited Smoke Bomb Hill. This small corner of Bragg was home to Special Forces and was littered with white frame buildings from WWII stuck in the pines. I revered the place when I came back ten years later looking for my own beret.

Assigned to the 7th Special Forces Group at Ft Bragg, Barnes is sent to the small but promising hot spot of the Dominican Republic where Communists are trying to push over a domino. Barnes quotes a lifer's observation in the book, "Wherever Americans go, they turn the women into whores." It's easy duty, guilty even, so Barnes volunteers for Vietnam and winds up at SF Camp A - 107 in Tra Bong some 60 miles south of Da Nang.

Barnes specialty was Demo and secured the Spec 5 ($194 a month) two hazardous stipends of $55 each. One for jump pay and one for blowing things up or the more challenging job of keeping things from blowing up. This all sounds pretty sexy but life at Tra Bong is a thumping bore. As junior man on the team, Barnes gets the shit details...to include burning it.

Jame's Jones took tedium in the army to an art form in A Thin Red Line. A man's thoughts and memories of home in the book became film director Terrance Malick's flashbacks in the film version . A Walk Above the Clouds (author's blog here) takes us on patrols of surrounding mountains with a ruck and a weapon. But there's higher altitude.

Barnes mines his deeply personal reflections. Not only on his good luck, and the guilt that comes with it, but the value of a man's specialty over his value as a human being. Two senior noncoms whose alcoholism reflect a sad army tradition but whose honor and duty spoke to a responsibility the army instills. What Barnes calls, "An honorable action" and "Doing the right thing."

I ask Barnes if he can think of any traits unique to Special Forces members back then. He quickly ticks off a list: "A broken home. Poor. Rootless. Driven to be recognized. Bright and unstable." Tra Bong is one of three places in the world where Cinnamon grows naturally. It is also a place where Lee's captain was beheaded and three team members were killed. Barnes writes of the obsessive card playing with fellow team members, "Cards, like war, reduced to luck no matter a man's skills. No one wanted to be alone with his thoughts to think about that."

Barnes tells me he is done with writing about Vietnam and claims it's the hardest thing he's written. Not only because he was bound to the truth of it but because his team mates names were on it. These events occurred 45 years ago but they should be fresh on everyone's mind. War in a far off place and in a culture not understood. Where the object of "Hearts and Minds" becomes confusion over who the enemy really is. The surprising ending of this book is a reminder...sometimes our biggest enemy can be on our own team.

Operation Crazy Horse - 16 May - 5 June 1966

CIDG Camp - Vinh Thanh, May 1966


Back of photo - Pencil notes (all cap) added later.

Here's what I remember. Shortly after being promoted to sergeant I spent a week home on leave. After dinner my father and I smoked cigars and for the first time he told me about Operation Crazy Horse. He started the conversation with, "Never use men like they were office supplies."

Sam Castan 12 May 1935 - 21 May 1966

45 years ago Look Magazine senior editor and journalist Sam Castan was killed trying to break out of an ambush that, save two men, wiped out an entire platoon on Hereford Mountain in the Central Highlands of Vietnam. Castan's body was looted of cameras and film only to be recovered from Viet Cong killed in a fight later the same day. These photographs were taken moments before Casten and the men in these pictures were killed.

I grew up staring at the images and wondering about Sam Castan. In many ways I felt like I knew him but it was a romantic image I created. Belted safari jacket. Nikons hanging from his neck. A cigarette dangling from his lips. War photography speaks to me in a terrifying but alluring way.

The photographs were published in S.L.A. Marshall's 1967, 'Battles in the Monsoon.' Castan stayed at my father's Special Forces camp the night before the ambush and remembers the journalist winning at a card game with soldiers of the 1st Air Cavalry and his A Team.

Fran Castan, a poet from Brooklyn and Sams's widow remembers Sam in her poem, 'Operation Crazy Horse.'

A grand Kowloon hotel. A hedge

of red hibiscus. A tiled pool.
A masseuse who pressed fragrant
oil of almond into my body
in the full heat of the sun.
Elsewhere, northeast of Saigon,
a man beheld you, and fired.

At the undertaker's you were
all made up and your hair
was parted wrong, so I smoothed it
the way you would have liked.
Someone shouted Stop, as if we were
caught making love on the couch
in my father's house. God knows

what they feared. Unfamiliar
streaks in your hair must have paled
at the moment of terror
and grown longer in the time since,
eerie as strands of ticker tape
still printing. Such dark hair
shocked white. How afraid you were.
All I could do was hold you.

Chino Tasting: Most Original

M47 khaki pant - Hanoi 1954 (Life Magazine)






Same khaki manufactured in 1953

High waisted with 10" leg opening

Plain front button fly - Hat not included - $20 on eBay

One of two ringers thrown into the Chino Tasting were these 1953 issue M47 French khakis. The pant is high waisted and I'm guessing it weighs in at 9 ounces give or take. The cut of the leg is full and the twill is tight with a soft hand.

Whether Bruce or Robert had an inclination to the military origins due to the waist band markings is unknown but Robert was very impressed giving the pant a 98. "...rare high rise, button fly, rear flaps, original, wide leg, wide loops, beautiful."

Bruce was less impressed scoring the pant an 85 but, like Robert, did award it winner of the Most Original category while commenting, " interesting fabric + color, very detailed, high rise and wide leg; casual."

I'm also crazy about this pant and unlike the other ringer (a selvage khaki) this can be easily found, even on eBay, for around $20. They all seem to have been manufactured in 1953 and then forgotten in a warehouse somewhere. Every pair I've seen so far have never been worn. So, twenty bucks for a little Indochina history is not such a bad deal. Not nearly as bad as it was for the French (or us).

My Trad Dad

He's on the far left. With the Ballantine can in front of him. Vietnam- circa 1967. A quiet, no bullshit, Green Beret, A Team Leader in the Central Highlands. A fan of movies. Especially, The Wild Bunch. His favorite quote from Pike Bishop, "When you side with a man - - You stay with him. And if you can't do that you're like some kinda animal. You're finished. We're all finished." Abso-fucking-lutly.

He's not really a Trad. You'd never see him in a bow tie. Although, he was fond of short sleeve Madras button downs. Bleeding Madras of course. A Rolex Explorer he purchased in Vietnam for $200. A Randal Attack Survival he gifted me when I joined the Army. Along with a French Foreign Legion Para Jacket. Those Army issue glasses are certainly Trad but this man is hard to label.

A career Army officer, he was also an artist. Two paintings of his are in The Mint Museum of Art in Charlotte, NC. He experimented with oil paint on strings of firecrackers and subscribed to the Evergreen Review.

At 16, I earned my third degree brown belt in Judo. I told him over phone and he told me when he was in a wheel chair he'd be able to kick my ass. Adding, "I'll bite your adams apple out and spit it in your face."

He's very sick now. I love him dearly.