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By Bonnie Bartel Latino

Columnist

Many readers today may not remember that according to the New York Times, “In 1996 Congress recognized the start of (the) U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War as Feb. 28, 1961, when U.S. military advisers began accompanying South Vietnamese troops on operations.” Of course, CIA operatives were operating in Southeast Asia years before 1961. The Vietnam Focus Guide blog, plus other sources say that the start date of the war is “ … often considered to have officially started on November 1, 1955, with the establishment of the Military Assistance Advisory Group.” The official end date of the War in Vietnam, two months after the Paris Peace Talks, when the last combat soldiers left Vietnam. That official date is March 29, 1973, some 52 years ago now. This column is not a retrospective on the Vietnam War. Rather, for my purposes today, it sets the stage for the de-escalation of wartime activities at Andersen AFB, Guam, where my husband Tom was stationed.

With the diminishing wartime activities, the 1958^th Communications Squadron still retained daily responsibility for high frequency networks over 9 million square miles of the Pacific Ocean. However, by January of 1974, as chief of operations, Tom felt he could get away for a week for our second and last free (compliments of the USAF) round trip airfare to Southeast Asia. I begged him to sign up for a return trip to Hong Kong, but he insisted we go somewhere different.

January of 1974 found us traveling again via a USAF C-121 aircraft. This time we headed across 3000 miles to Thailand. As we flew over Vietnam, we saw innumerable bomb craters in thick lush jungles and farmland and villages. The sights jolted me back to real-world problems. My mind drifted to the South Vietnamese people, who suffered and died fighting for their homeland, as well as had more Americans than I wanted to quantify in numbers. My own E.C.H.S. classmate, Rayford Gohagin, had been murdered by the Viet Cong on May 13, 1969.

Our flight was long and arduous. By the time we reached Bangkok and took a taxi to the Siam Intercontinental Hotel, the sights, sounds and scents of Thailand’s capital city, which is sometimes called “The Venice of the East,” we perked up. The hotel could only be described as majestic. King Bhumibol Adulyadej (aka Rama IX) owned the acreage on which the hotel was built in 1966. Rama IX had given a portion of the land to his mother. When she had married his father, she had been a commoner. In later years she became known as Princess Srinagarindra, the Princess Mother. We were told of this connection when we checked into the hotel.

While the Hong Kong Hilton had been a high-rise, modern luxury hotel, the Siam Intercontinental had been designed as a more low-profile luxury resort. Shaped like a pyramid in the architectural style of Thai buildings, the central building stood above four low-rise wings, where the rooms were located. Stunning landscaping and exterior walkways surrounded the rooms in those wings.

Our view was of the ground amidst lush gardens, which we eagerly explored early the next morning. It was there that I first saw a lavender water lily floating in a pond amidst a small sea of the same blooms and shiny verdant leaves flat atop the water. More distant in the grounds stood large cages of exotic birds and other small animals. Tom and I only remember that our room was less than our big splurge in Hong Kong. Sources say that after American troops withdrew from Vietnam, the hotel reduced its rates from 120 baht to 60 baht per night. A safe guess would be that we paid around $25 per night at the Siam Intercontinental. In retrospect, the hotel felt as if it could have been the Princess Mother’s country palace. It was by no means in the countryside, but the gardens and lovely ponds made it feel that way.

Bangkok was exotic in ways Hong Kong wasn’t. That was partially due to the vast system of canals within the city. Settled in the Chao Phraya (River) Delta, the city is fed by waters from the north, rains and tidal flows from the Gulf of Thailand. This confluence means that Bangkok is also known as the City of Three Waters. We took multiple “klong” tours on the canals. We witnessed women washing the family laundry in the Chao Phraya. Around the next curve, naked children swam while their father brushed his teeth. In yet another area, we floated past other boats juggling for space in the water with others within the aptly- named “Floating Market.” Boat vendors offered everything locals or tourists might need. Sun hats, fresh orchids, vegetables, bright yellow plantains, red chili peppers, homemade soups, fried fish, seafood omelets were not only on offer— everything was cooked onboard the long boats and served from metal cauldrons that appeared to have been in their families for generations. At least. It wasn’t uncommon to see people using chopsticks on board as colorful sights, sounds, and smells bombarded them from every angle.

While Bangkok is Thailand’s crown jewel, the sprawling city, known globally for its pulsating culture and unique cuisine, Tom and I most remember the delightful men, women and children with smiles so luminous and genuine that they transformed their entire faces. We also recall many intense young Buddhist monks with shaven heads and who all wore bright saffron-colored robes and sandals.

I still thank Tom Latino for insisting we go “Somewhere different in SE Asia” rather than taking a second trip to Hong Kong like I had wanted. Early readers of this column may recall that on our first date in college seven years earlier we shared endless dreams of wanting to explore the globe. In 1974, our biggest adventures were still in our future.

 

(Bangkok to be continued.)