Wedding of Cao Minh Chinh

 Finally, I was seated in the rear web seat of the US Army C-130. It was one of the first flights out of Saigon for Cam Ranh Bay Vietnam since being grounded due to the lingering monsoon storms. The four turboprops revved up for "pilot check," the fuselage shook and rattled with the sound of popping rivets. Being in the rear, I faced the apprehensive newly Vietnam arrivals of Air Forces Nurses and Army troops. I could see in their stressed-out faces the bewilderment of who this civilian was. 

 

 Chinh's wedding was tomorrow, November 11, 1967, in his village of Tan-Binh some miles from the large Cam Ranh Bay Air Force Base. For almost two years, I was the only medic living in the Vietnamese camp, caring for over 3000 Vietnamese company workers. Out of respect, they referred to me as "Bacsi Vic" (doctor Vic). Chinh was my loyal interpreter and adviser; he never left my side during riots, shootings, and medical emergencies.

When Chinh presented me the wedding invitation to me and asked me to attend, I asked him if in his heart he wanted me to attend or if this was just a courtesy to me. Chinh replied: "I would be honored if you would visit." "Would I be safe in your village overnight?" I asked. Chinh replied, "Bacsi Vic, many of the Vietnamese work for RMK-BRJ they know you and other Vietnamese have heard about you. You will be protected and safe." I promised that I would be at his wedding. It would be disrespectful, and I would lose face if I failed to show up. 

 I have that afternoon to get to Tan-Binh hamlet. After the C130 aircraft landed at the Cam Ranh Air Force base, I managed to hitch a ride to my camp. I threw a blue suit and tie and personal items into a small Samsonite suitcase and was off.  I hitched a ride on a two-ton Army truck and was expecting to cross the floating platoon bridge when it came to a sudden halt. The driver yelled, "this is as far as I can take you!" I Jumped out of the back of the truck and surveyed the area and observed that the entire length of the platoon bridge is torn apart and in disarray due to the recent monsoon storms. I walked the short distance to Myca hamlet, which sat along the bay shore. Most likely, I looked stupid, standing there with my small suitcase staring wondering how I was going to get across.

A Vietnamese boy walked up and said: "Bacsi Vic, what are you doing, what do you need?" After hearing my plight, he said, "Wait here" and left. A short time later, he came back and led me to a small two-man Vietnamese wooden boat and encouraged me to get in the wobbling thing. With skill and determination, he rowed me across the choppy water to the opposite shoreline. At least it was a good start. 

I found the road which led to the hamlet and onward to the resort city of Nha Trang and had only walked down it a mile or so when a US Army jeep equipped with mounted machine guns and three troopers roared up behind me. "What in the hell are you doing out here? Darkness is coming soon, and this place will be swarming with Viet Cong!" I gave my story and explained that it was important that I be at my interpreter's wedding as it was a matter of honor. They said, "get in we will take you there." I jumped into the back of the jeep. We took off but in the wrong direction, going back to the broken up platoon bridge. A trooper leaned back and shouted, "we have to check something out at the bridge than we will take take you back." "Oh Ya, I thought, they are going to detain me!" I sat alone in the jeep while the troopers discussed something of which I assumed was about what they were going to do with me. The troopers suddenly jumped back into the jeep and to my surprise turned around and drove down the road toward my desired destination. Scanning the passing jungle foliage, I asked the troopers to pull over and drop me off at an area that looked somewhat familiar. Noting their concern,  I reassured them I would be ok. I gave them twenty dollars in gratitude and asked them to have around of drinks on me. They turned the jeep around and headed back to the safety of the US air base.  

Now, I am alone. Nobody to help me out here. The darkness engulfed me as I stepped off the roadside into the jungle.  I crept and huddled the trees along the path for guidance to the hamlet and to avoid any Viet Cong traps. I became increasingly worried. What if I was in the wrong location? What If I stepped into a Viet Cong placed punji pit hole with my leg impaled on a bamboo punji stake? Worse, what if I ran into a Viet Cong patrol sneaking around in the night?  I imagined the reaction of US Army troops discovering my broken-up body the next morning wondering what the hell was this stupid jerk doing out in the jungle alone at night. "Snap out of it!" I said, as I cursed myself! I focused on the techniques that the Vietnamese guides taught me about concealment and booby trap avoidance.  I sneaked silently through the brush, moving one foot forward with the boot toes gently touching the ground leaves, then gently putting pressure on the ground feeling for man traps or a trip wire. I then slowly brought the back foot up, creeping forward little by little, stopping, breathing slowly and shallowly, carefully listening as I looked deep through the branches; checking front, sides, and especially my rear to make sure that I was not followed. After a few moments of motionless, I moved very cautiously and slowly between each short step.  It seemed it took an hour to go 100 yards through the jungle foliage.  

Finally, a small flickering light appeared through the leaves, drawing me cautiously toward it. Coming to a clearing with the faint shadow of the hamlet, I called out "Chinh Cao Minh" a few times.  A small old woman appeared, looked at me, turned around and left, soon to my relief, Chinh appeared and said: "I am sorry that I cannot spend any time with you tonight because I am busy with wedding plans."  He led me to a house at the perimeter and showed me the bedroom where I could sleep. I was all alone in the house.

Hungry and tired, I took my boots off, laid down on the hard surface of the hand-carved ornament bed with no mattress, and tried to sleep. Through out the night, when my hips or shoulders could not sustain the discomfort I would turn to a different uncomfortable position, I awoke in the morning somewhat tired and sore. A cold water splash bath with a shave refreshed me. I dressed in my blue suit and tie that I brought with me, and was now ready for the festivities.

The villagers and wedding guests walked along a dirt path and entered the hamlet. First in the procession were the Vietnamese girls and women led by the beautiful bride who is dressed in the traditional Vietnamese white ao dai dress. The various dress colors with a high neckline and side slits from waist to hem worn over loose flowing trousers that brushed their sandals offered a dramatic contrast to the background jungle and dirt path. The scene was so peaceful and colorful that I forgot battles were waging throughout Vietnam and my adventure the previous night event.     

The inside of the one-story church looked familiar as if it was transplanted from any small town in the United States. At the altar, the priest proceeded with the ceremony in Vietnamese with Chinh and his bride taking the Catholic wedding vows with all of the villagers and guests in attendance. 

Afterward, all the guests gathered in the village square and sat down where long tables had been set up for the feast.  High over the tables draped long colored cloth panels to shade the quests from the noon sun. 

The Village Elders, dressed in the black silk tunics, delivered their speeches were the bride and groom stood. Meanwhile, food of all types with wine and beer were delivered to the tables. Soon the tables were laden with various kinds of dishes of pork, beef, chicken, fish, and vegetables. Some of the dishes varied in taste from mildly spicy to extremely spicy, to the point that the Vietnamese warned me not to eat some of them. Of course, being adventurous I ignored their suggestion and ate every food available including a very spicy tripe which induced a red face with sweat. I have never had better tripe! I was amazed that this hamlet which I considered not having much wealth could produce such an event. I found out that each family cooked up a planned potluck to provide an abundance of food. The feast went on for several hours, then as custom, a hot soup is served as the last dish. 

Saying goodbye to the bride and groom and guests, I left that little hamlet and walked back down the path  I took so hesitantly the night before. Finding the main highway, I flagged down a passing Army truck, drove over the put together platoon floating bridge, and arrived safely back to my camp by nightfall.