A memoir of a Vietnam veteran
I was sitting at my desk, thinking about future shows we could put together, when something caught my eye. A jeep pulled up in front of one of the old rubber plantation houses across the field from us. There were four young American women and what looked like Santa Claus in the jeep. I grabbed my camera and called for Willy and Wayne as I headed for the door. The house had to have been a football field away, but we crossed the distance in no time.The women wore pale blue dresses with a white and red disk on the shoulder that identified them as Red Cross volunteers, Donut Dollys.
Wayne and I began to shoot pictures. Willy began asking them questions, �How�d did you end up here?�Christmas cards began to pop up; in the office tents and our hooches. It wasn�t unusual to see a drawing of the Holy Family gathered around the crib thumbtacked just beneath the bare boobs of Playboy�s Miss August. Gifts began to appear in the mail; fat envelopes, puffy manila folders, cardboard boxes, all began to descend on the base camp with each mail call. Some troops tore into each package as soon as it arrived. Others, myself included, stored them away and hoped that the rats and king sized cock roaches wouldn�t get to the goodies before the blessed day arrived.
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