Where the Birds Don't Sing [How it was, Sketches of Life in l971-Vietnam]
Written, 2003 [revised 2005]
Farewell to the Birds
There is a place on this earth Where the birds don't sing,-- Where the troops march, Eating dust and rain; -- Always wondering Where the birds went
As they swiftly move away When one gets off the plane: -- "Farewell!" they sing, "Farewell!" "See you Another day…"
Dlsiluk, Vietnam l971
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"Memory is when you look back And the answer floats in To who? What? When? Where? … Sometimes slurred and blurred— This Remembering— …proceeding again to reconstruct What happened and how…"
Carl Sandburg
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All sciences natural or not, everything in general to include 'war'–needs a logical system for understanding:--something that was missing in Vietnam, unfortunately.
Chick Evens
Introduction:
A confession: In fact it took me four months to write this book, although only 4-minutes to conceive it; and yet, 33-years to get to it, and eight months to live it—
My idea to write came in October 2002, prior to going to Lima, Peru to visit my wife's relatives, and other friends. I felt a need to connect my prior two volumes "Romancing San Francisco," and "A Romance in Augsburg," together—.
And so, I write of my youthful generation, 32-years past, for this generation of critics now, and for those who simply wish to know.
Ξ
I am not really all that much for introductions, --they seem to use up a lot of valuable time and space that should really be intertwined into the story and so I will make this brief at best. This is the third part to The Chick Evens Trilogy. It started with the book, "Romancing San Francisco," where karate and a number of other things were brought into the ongoing saga of Chick Evens. There you met Gosei Yamaguchi, world karate champion, and a host of other people, events, and things happening; sketches of life of the late sixties if you will, or better put, a slice of life. The time period was l968-69. From there we went to the second book of the trilogy, which is, "A Romance in Augsburg," taking place in l970, where the main character [Chick Evens] gets drafted out of San Francisco, goes back to St. Paul, and into the Army, and to be quite honest, it is just one of a few romance involved in the trilogy but the most profound in the trilogy; "Romancing San Francisco." But as I was saying, "Romancing San Francisco," its theme in particular, had more to do with Karate per se, --the novel being the catalyst to the trilogy—the stepping stone if you will.
And now for the last part of the trilogy, which takes place in l971, in Vietnam, and here again, you get war, affairs, some adventure, and a trip to Australia where a few other things take place. All three novels consume 27-months of active time [with 15-months of in-between time; which I call lingering time]; thus, making it a forty-two month saga in total. The sketches are linked together, as are all three novels. It starts from the summer of l968, and ends in the fall of l971. Some may find this a bit different, as far as a novel goes, because of the sketches, but it is no different than some of the books or short stories linked together as sketches done in the 1920's throughout the 40's.
"Americans believe in freedom and the dignity of man. They back that belief with action. The Americans in Vietnam know war at first hand. They see it for what it is. War is fear cloaked in courage. It is excitement overlaying boredom. It is close friendships, with loneliness only a thought away. It is compassion in the midst of destruction. It is dedication winning over weariness and frustration. War is paying a terrible price today for a better tomorrow. …
The Major Kelly's—and the Private Smith's and all the others—have given America more than they have taken from her. And they are still giving…"
General William C. Westmoreland
[Commander, U.S. Forces in Vietnam]
The Story:
"Where the Birds Don't Sing"
Preface ≈
A Letter to the Editor by Chick Evens, l972
"It was a decade of change and challenges for the world, America in particular, it was 'The New Generation,' that's what we were called it I guess, the Age of Aquarius was around the corner. For me it started in l967 in St. Paul Minnesota when I decided to join it by preparing to leave my nice little city by the Mississippi, and it wouldn't stop for me until December l971, we might just as well say l972. In any case, the 60's and early 70's produced an avalanche of changes. As I went from St. Paul, the conservative city of culture, to San Francisco, the radical city of the west, and onto West Germany, for a romance that would stick to me like glue for many years to come, and over to Vietnam, for a war that had many limitations, some expectations, and too many variables. In this short time of 42-months, between the Summer of l968 and the fall of l971, the long hair, mod dress [hippies], drugs, sexual freedoms, anti-establishment ideas where much more plentiful, one might say, than ten years prior to this. The so called, 'New Generation,' had a romantic fever within its veins. Actually, between l959 and l965, such things would have been unbelievable. But it is how it was, and I was in the heart of it. Chick Evens
A Night with Tequila [Post, San Francisco: -- l969]
I was in-between going into the Army, which would bring me to Augsburg, Germany, and then on to Vietnam, and leaving San Francisco, where I had lived for a year, and practiced karate with the famous Gosei Yamaguchi, and worked for the famous cloth designing company, Lilli Ann. Thus, leaving San Francisco, I had went down to Southern California to meet with my brother, he and I then ventured down to Mexico for a day where I bought a bottle of tequila, with the worm in it. This would prove to be an adventure in itself, with an unforgettable night, linger in the future; notwithstanding, I will leave out the trouble that took place in Mexico, and be thankful we got out in one piece, and with my bottle of Tequila: and leave it at that, but let me add, the beer was heavy, and we almost got in a fight with several Mexican Soma -type looking wrestlers. In any event, we did make it out alive, as you are reading this, and therefore I must have.
And then on to [bask to that is] St. Paul, Minnesota our home city and state; --my brother, myself, his wife and two-kids went by car, and yes I carried my bottle of Tequila, all the way. I had never drunk the stuff before, and figured I'd save it for a special occasion, hoping it would come soon. Plus, it would be a new experience for me when I did drink it, that is to say, showing everyone that damn famous worm, everyone talks about. When you moved the bottle of Tequila about–you could actually see the worm floating every which way.
We spent a day in Salt Lake City, Utah, as we had found a cheap, small motel close to the inner city; my brother's wife got chased back to the motel for being out past 10:00 PM without her husband, as she was trying to buy some groceries.
I think we had a good laugh on that, that evening.
I didn't see much of the city, although I did look for a few bars, I guess everything was either underground, or they had some secret black market where they hid the booze, but there was no chance for a nice cold beer, I figured that out quick. In any case, the night came quick, and we all slept well; the morning came quick also.
We took turns—that is, my brother and I took turns driving his car over the long dusty roads, but the weather was pleasing, a bit warm yet it made driving comfortable.
When we arrived in St. Paul, it was but a few weeks before my brother decided to head on up to North Dakota, Grand Forks, to help put in a cement platform, for a garage in, helping out his father-in-law. I told him I'd go along and help if he didn't mind, and it all seemed quite productive, for the most part. And when the day arrived to leave' --yes again, I carried my bottle of Tequila all the way to the Dakota's with me: almost as if it was a gift from the god's.
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As we arrived in Grand Forks, we all stayed at my brother's father-in-law's house, the very house we were to do the construction work at, in the back yard. The hot weather was starting to leave the Midwest, and the cooler air was coming down from Canada, as September crept in slowly. It was a good time to work the construction part, that is, without sweating to death. The Midwest was extremes, hot in the summer and cold in the winter. In fall, it was perfect, especially for construction.
As I got to meet the rest of my sister-in-law's family, I think I must have been saving this bottle of Tequila for this occasion, for I had a sense it was not going to make it back home. I had hid the bottle in my brother's car, and drank beer the first night I was there with the rest of the relatives. His wife had several bothers and we all sat around getting drunk, --talking about how we were going to go about building the wooden frame of the foundation, to pour the cement for the garage: that is, the ground work was already done, leveled and the wooden frame needed to be made, this could be done quickly in the morning with long two-by-four boards, thereafter, we'd do the cement work, and then we'd stay an extra day and have a get together, kind of celebration. It all sounded grand.
During this time I had met Paula, a friend of the family. I was twenty years old, and she was seventeen, we both seemed somewhat attracted to one another—time would tell.
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As we worked all day the following day on the cement, digging a foundation, putting up sides-boards to pour the cement, and measuring, along with putting in other sources of support like, stones etc., we finally did pour the cement, and it turned out better than what I had hoped for. We really did not need professionals, only a good thought out plan, effort, and a gathering of the willing.
Now it was party time. Paula told me to skip the get together with the family at my brother's wife's house, for the time being, and head on to her friend's house, and join their party this evening, and we'd come back to join the family workers later, for they also would be having a party. It all sounded reasonable to me.
As we got to the party [7:00 PM] Paula introduced me to several of her young friends, and I pulled out from underneath my jacket the bottle of Tequila I had purchased in Mexico, the one with the worm in it.
Paula said,
"What is that thing in the bottle?" As she was reading the label that said 'Tequila,' on it, she added, "I heard of this stuff, it's pretty strong, isn't it?"
[A rhetorical question at best] "It's a genuine worm alright," I clarified, adding, "…that is what indicates it's the original Mexican thing." I really didn't know what I was talking about—for the most part—but whatever the 'thing [worm], meant,' none the less, made for good conversation.
As we sat on the sofa in the living room of her friend's house I checked Paula out, I liked her, she looked a little French-Canadian, that is to say, she had a natural tan to her skin, almost olive. She had short black hair, a shapely body, to include a pear like base [or underneath --about 5' 3" inches tall, stunning looks, a real beauty.
We both had a few of the beers the folks at the party offered, and then I opened up the Tequila.
She asked me [pleadingly-with a touch of humor] "Should I try to drink the worm when it surfaces out of the bottle or see if it comes out of the bottle while I pour it into my glass, and then drink it?"
"Forget the glass, take a swig right out of the spout, and if you get the worm, swallow it. That's the best way to do it. Let's see who gets to it first." We both smiled at one another, and down the 'hatch' we drank our first, longgggg-shot. I drank about three shots at once, --along with taking some salt at the same time putting it on my hand and licking it; someone had told me to do it, it was actually a little more agreeable with the salt, the Tequila that is. And then Paula did the same. No one got the worm; we again looked at one another and laughed.
"Ham m," we both hummed at each other.
"Let's try again," I said contentedly...
As the night went on, a few of the folks from my brother's wife's family, along with my brother came over to the party to check on Paula and me. They saw we were drinking away like two silly kids. I was now 21-years old, I could legally drink, but Paula wasn't, --I think they were more worried about Paula, being 17, and I suppose I may have looked a little dangerous to my sister-in-law, being with her younger sister.
They sat by us and had a few drinks of the Tequila, and then feeling all was well and under control left us to ourselves. They were only up the block about four houses in any case, meaning, if they needed to run to her rescue, they could. I think they were afraid I'd steal her away and run to Minnesota with her, --or her with me. We were just having a good ol'-time, no more, no less.
At 11:00 PM, Paula asked if we should call it a night, we were both getting pretty drunk.
"No, no," I said, "Let's finish the whole bottle and whoever ends up with the worm is the winner." [Although the winner only got the worm.]
"Ok, Ok," she atheistically said, at first glance.
1:00 PM
[Halfheartedly I told Paula.] "It looks like my turn to drink." Yet, I could hardly find the bottle, let alone see the worm. At great length I put my hand out to grab the bottle:
"Ok, here it is," I took a big drink, "…the worm is still in there Chick," Paula commented. I looked I couldn't see it, "I must of drank it," I replied, no answer.
Morning
Paula [who has risen] "Who got the worm?" she asked, no answer. She moved about, trying to stretch, laying on the floor next me, where she had passed out, and I on the sofa had passed out right along with her [a pause].
"I think I got it," I grabbed the bottle on the floor with the Tequila label on it, it was empty, and the worm was gone.
"I think I ate it, or swallowed it, and then I must have passed out," I explained to her [a little stiffly].
"No," she replied, "I think you tried to get the worm out, and couldn't, and there was a little substance left, and I had the next try, and got it out." We looked at each other [wearily] struggling to up on a smile and started laughing. Whoever got the worm we would never know for sure? But one of us did.
"I think Paula," I commented, "…we both ate the worm, I got half and you got half. If I recall right, I got the worm out safe and sound, and poured the rest of the Tequila in a glass, and cut the worm in half, and we both had the last drink together each getting half the worm."
"Really," she said, [after listening for a moment].
"Absolutely," I wasn't sure of anything, but I dreamt it or for some reason it came out naturally. Who knows after you drink a fifth of Tequila what happened to the worm, maybe it walked away. Whatever the case, Paula was a little more agreeable with that ending to the worm.
Vietnam 1971
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I doubt in any war you'll find the birds singing: -- I never did hear them in Vietnam, nor did I hear the Sounds of Americans hooraying their heroes as they Came home; --there was really nothing for a Soldier
Except another Soldier in those far off days.
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See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com |
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