I read in one of my news feeds the other day that Richard Marcinko passed away. It reminded me of the time I met him back in 1996. After I left the Air Force, I returned to Vietnam and lived in Ho Chi Minh City for about five years. While there, I met a Vietnam-era SEAL who was working with this investment group I was loosely involved with. The prior-service SEAL contacted me from the US looking to see if I could facilitate for a documentary crew who was traveling to Vietnam with a number of special operations Vietnam War veterans led by Dick Marcinko, and included Chief "Patches" Watson. My role was to help the crew get their filming equipment into the country and help with any other facilitating that required translation and interpreting. It was generally a simple job, and I was happy to do it. This was only about 25 years after most of the group had served in Vietnam and they were all in their late 40s to early 50s.
I traveled to several local areas with the group, but honestly don't remember specifically those locations or much else about what happened during that week or so of work. Only one event sticks out in my mind that I would like to share:
It was probably the second day the group had arrived. They were staying at the New World Hotel on Le Lai Street, across from what is now known as the Saigon Central Park. At the time, homeless people lived in the park in cardboard boxes, or whatever other makeshift shelters they could put together. I lived just down the road off Tran Hung Dao Street and walked to the hotel that afternoon. When I got to the hotel, I saw the producers out in the park, directing some of the homeless people to collect tree limbs and move them into a pile. When I asked one of the producers what he was doing, he responded that he was having the people prepare a bonfire that he would light in the evening and have the group meet around and tell war stories. The producer talked like the event had been organized, but also implied the homeless people had some sort of ownership of the park. I thought the event a bad idea and intended to tell Dick as much. He invited me to his suite where I talked with him and his wife, but didn't get to properly discourage the evening activity. I walked down with Dick and his wife later, when it was dusk, and saw that the fire had already been lit and the group was gathering. Though still worried, it looked like things were going fine. Well, until everyone was gathered around and about eight to ten motorbikes with two Ak-47-armed public security men on each arrived and surround the group. Though all of the American veterans had combat experience, I was most concerned with the reaction from Dick. I think everyone else looked to him to gauge their own actions, so I worried when I saw Dick looking into the fire with a thousand yard stare. No panic, fear, anger or any other emotion was evident on his face.
Fortunately, I was able to move to the Vietnamese team leader and explain in very broad terms what was happening. This police captain was less than impressed and asked who gave permission to build the fire. I translated for the producer who answered that the people who owned the park had allowed it. Playing stupid, I translated this verbatim and looked for the officer's reaction. In the end, I was able to convince the policeman to let the group return to the hotel and allow me to write a statement at the police station. Oddly, the group got off without a penalty, not even a fine. Even better, I suffered no ill-consequence for the remainder of my time in Saigon.
Several years later, Dick Marcinko was in Mobile, Alabama promoting his new book Red Cell. I bought the book and had him sign it for me. I don't have the book here in Hanoi, but his message proved he remembered the event back in Saigon. He was a good guy, and I am sorry to hear of his passing!
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