Ramasun Station itself was way beyond anything I expected.  It looked almost like some apartment complex back in the States, and it really seemed out of place here in this remote site.  "So this would be my home for the next twelve months.....Not bad!  Not bad at all!", I thought.  "How had I managed to get so damn lucky?!!"  The site was an Army post, only recently built, and I and the other airmen who were stationed there were part of an Air Force detachment of the 6922nd Security Wing.  We were given separate living quarters from the Army types.  I was most pleasantly surprised to find that all of the barracks were really quite nice concrete block air-conditioned buildings, a far cry from the quarters I'd seen at the Udorn Air Base!  In fact, all of the buildings on post were air-conditioned.  What luxury!  Air conditioning was something we would have killed for on Okinawa!  I’m almost ashamed to mention the tennis courts, swimming pool, bowling alley and the indoor theater. I understand a few months before my arrival, they had been living in tents. Like they say, "Timing is everything!"

The barracks, like the native homes I'd seen, were built on pylons a several feet off the ground.  And aside from keeping the bottom floor dry, I'm sure it helped to keep out the snakes as well.  They had told us snakes cannot climb the steps, and apparently it was true. I never saw snake inside the barracks the whole time I was there. All the streets on post were paved in concrete and had streetlights to make for safe walking at night.  The streetlights had a disadvantage though, for they attracted swarms of huge rice beetles at night.  These hard-shelled insects were three to four inches long, and when hit by one in flight, it felt as if you'd been hit by a rock!  To the Thais, they were a great delicacy.  And when they were lucky enough to capture one, they would quickly bite off its head and suck the juices out of the still wriggling body with great relish.  What's the old saying?..."When in Rome, do as the Romans do."  I assure you, that was one local custom I never could bring myself to try. 

The "icing on the cake" here was the perks we had for spending a tour in Southeast Asia.  Even if it was "rear echelon", we didn’t have to fall out each morning for reveille and roll call, nor did we have the regular parade drills and inspections we’d had in other places I’d been.  The Army guys did to some extent though.  I remember, on occasion we'd hang out the windows of the Air Force quarters and harass them while they were in standing in formation in the street below.  Not very nice of us, but it was fun.  It was all part of a mostly good natured inter-service rivalry, common wherever the service branches mixed.  But I'm sure they didn't appreciate the humor in it as much as we did!  (Small wonder they sometimes lovingly referred to us as "those Air Force Pukes!") 

Aside from monthly "Commander's Calls", as long as we showed up for our scheduled duty shift on time, our time was pretty much our own.  At Commander's Call, we were given updates on the status of the war, the latest developments in air weaponry, and any items of interest regarding day to day operations of the Detachment.  And then there were the scare films they showed us to educate and hopefully make us aware and wary of the local dangers of VD.  Sex was something easily available to GI's anywhere in town.  You didn't have to seek it out.   Walk into any bar for a beer, and it would find you.  Prostitution was a legitimate profession, and government doctors regularly examined and approved the girls to conduct their business.  Those who were found to be unfit were treated and were supposed to be reapproved before they were sanctioned to return to work.  I'm sure a diagnosis of VD did not stop all of them from continuing to ply their trade though. 

There were rumors circulating of some strains of VD that were uncureable.  If contracted, it would doom one to a life of exile on a small island, somewhere in the Pacific, never to be allowed to return home.  Of course, we recognized that for what it was - an outlandish tall tale.  Usually, such rumors were strongly discouraged, but that was one for which the upper command looked the other way.   After all, if it made one GI more wary, it could only do good.  Then there were the joking reports of certain diseases, requiring shots to be given with a "square needle" in one of the more sensitive parts of the male anatomy!   Scare films and rumors notwithstanding, every week there were always some troops who, having not used proper precautionary measures, had to visit the dispensary for a round of traditional anti-biotic treatement for common, garden variety "STD's." For those who underwent it, the worst part of the regimin was the complete elimination of alchohol consumption for the duration of treatment.  For most I think, once was enough to teach them to be more cautious, but there were always a few who just wouldn't learn.  Those who had to be treated more than three times during a tour might be slapped with an Article 15.  An Article 15 was a black mark on one's service record, but it was one that didn't really mean much.  It was something that might come into play when being considered for promotion, and if one collected too many, it could mean the loss of a stripe.  Happily, I never got even one in my four years of service time.

Personally, I thought the food at Ramasun Station was only the best.  We had real eggs, real milk. and once a month, an outdoor barbecue with all the steak and beer you could put away!  Our bunks were made, and the tile floors in the barracks were kept spotless by local housekeeping girls, who were hired by the Army.  As I recall, I think each of us had to chip in a few bucks a month to pay half a dozen of the girls on our floor.  But it was well worth it!  They’d even shine our boots and do our laundry for us if we wanted, for a few extra "Baht."  The Baht was the local unit of currency.  Twenty Baht amounted to about one US dollar. 

At first, it was a bit of a culture shock (though not an unpleasant one) for the new troops, having women constantly present in the barracks, where we often slept on top of the bunks in our skivvies, and where we went to and from the shower room dressed in no more than a towel at most.  It was no big deal to the girls.  Though some joked around and flirted a little, they were there for one reason only - to keep our quarters in tip-top shape.  And in fact, we were informed in no uncertain terms, the house girls were OFF LIMITS!  Anyone who wanted something more than a shoe shine or their laundry done could find that in town!  The house girls were highly motivated, hard working and industrious.  They did a damn good job too!   It cost us next to nothing, considering the work it saved us, and at the same time, it greatly benefited them.  Jobs on the post were coveted by the locals, and I think it was kind of a status symbol for them.  It was their "gravy train", so to speak.  As in South Vietnam, the American presence in Thailand was a huge boost to the economy, and they got used to that American money flowing in, helping to raise their standard of living.

Most of the area of the post was occupied by huge antenna arrays.  Their presence, I thought, surely must have given away the purpose of the post, even though our mission was supposed to be Top Secret.  The outside perimeter was bounded by a tall chain-link fence, topped with barbed wire, to keep out whatever and whomever lurked beyond in the jungle.  We were issued M-16’s (on paper), but I was somewhat disappointed to find they were to be kept in the armory and distributed only in case of attack, or when we were standing guard duty. Of course, the MP’s on post were constantly armed, as were the Thai Army perimeter guards.  I suppose there was good reason not to have everyone armed at all times, especially with the drinking that went on during off duty hours.  But I couldn’t help but wonder if, in case of a concerted attack, "Would it be too late by the time we were able to get to our weapons?" And as my tour there progressed, things would happen which would make me come to doubt whether those weapons would ever be issued under any circumstances. (More on this subject later.)

Security was very tight though.   The Thai guards at the gate closely eyed everyone who entered the post and checked ID's.  The radio compound where we worked was inside a chain link fence enclosure, nested inside another chain link fence, both topped by barbed wire.  Guard towers were positioned all around the place, and it looked like a maximum-security prison.  There was only one way in or out.  To get inside and to leave, we had to pass the guard station and stop and show both our badges and our faces to the guard on duty.  Then and only then, would we be allowed in or out of the gates.  If the MP didn’t recognize the person, or thought something suspicious, the shift supervisor had to come out and verify their identity.  The rooms inside were somewhat small and were crammed to the gills with state-of-the-art radio gear and encryption equipment.  There were no windows at all in the building, and I wondered if the post were attacked, would we inside even know it in time to react to save ourselves?  As far as I can recall, there was NO evacuation plan, and the only way out was the door in front of the building.  God help us if there had ever been a serious fire!

As a shift supervisor, I was responsible for about fifteen men on my shift.  Most things we listened in on were pretty routine - aircraft position reports, high altitude weather conditions, ETA’s, and so-on.  But occasionally something significant would happen, and it fell to me to determine what was routine and what merited reporting immediately to the intelligence analyst.  If  the analyst deemed it important enough, a "FLASH PRIORITY" message could be generated that would be in the hands of the President within three minutes from anywhere in the world.

As we had on Okinawa, at Ramasun we worked rotating shifts; three day shifts, then one day off, then three swings and a day off, then three midnight shifts, followed by four whole days off.  Then the cycle would repeat.  The four consecutive days off gave us the opportunity to play tourist and see more of Thailand than we otherwise would have.  We took full advantage of it, visiting many attractions in the region.  The down side was, the ever changing shifts kept our bodies off balance, and we never really had a chance to get used to any one schedule.  But rotating the shifts was a way of spreading the misery around evenly.   Day shifts were the most active, followed by swings.  But mid shifts seemed excruciatingly long.

After about 8:00 or 9:00 PM, the Chinese went off the air.  The day’s flights had all landed well before that time, as the Chinese were loath to fly at night.  Communications after that were extremely rare.   Mid shift ran from 2300 to 0700 hours.  On mids, we were left to endlessly scan the HF band listening to mostly static, guzzling cup after cup of the bitter black brew that we kept cooking on the hotplate.  As a shift supervisor, I had monitor to make sure those under my charge resisted the temptation to stop scanning for the Chi-coms to listen to the top forty on the BBC.  We passed time by making entries in the shift logbook, with frequent references to our "bleeding" eyeballs.     The intended purpose of the shift log was to pass along any important happenings to the next shift, but on mids it was treated more as a "dear diary", a place to "publish" our poetry and prose.  I wish I had access to that log now.  It would be interesting to look back and review our innermost thoughts that we'd set to paper in it.  Finally, about 0600 the Chi-coms would come back on air and begin establishing contact with one another again.  Then we’d be pretty busy the remainder of the shift.

When day shift relieved us, we’d hustle over to the mess hall and have a huge breakfast of eggs cooked to order, bacon, and hash browns and what was jokingly referred to as "shit on a shingle", sausage gravy over toast that is.  I loved that stuff!  I’d melt three or four pats of butter in the gravy and salt it down good.  I’d usually finish by guzzling three or four tall glasses of chocolate milk, real milk, to top it all off.  The food here beat the heck out of the garbage we were fed on Okinawa!  They apparently had sent all the good stuff to Southeast Asia and fed the garbage to everyone else, I figured.  Either that, or the Army chow just beat the hell out of Air Force chow.  I think the latter was probably the case.  Some of the guys did complain of the food there though, but I guess all things are relative.  Remembering the 1947 K-rations I'd had on Okinawa, I philosophized, things can always be worse - much worse!

After breakfast, we’d straggle back over to the barracks and crash in our bunks ‘til mid-afternoon.  Then we might take a swim in the pool and bask in the sun, or go bowl a few lines in the new air-conditioned bowling alley, at 25 cents a game.  I often bowled as many as twenty games a day, and I carried a 190 bowling average while I was there.  We even had a photo lab, complete with chemicals and other supplies, where we could develop and print our own pictures.  I spent quite a lot of time in there.  Evenings, we might take in a movie in the on post theater, or take a taxi or bus into Udorn for a bath and a massage.  During daylight hours, there was always a line of taxis waiting for fares at the front gate, so transportation was readily available at a moment's notice.  The drivers who had dropped passengers off coming from Udorn would get in line to wait for a fare to take back.  They usually didn't have to wait too long, as there was an almost constant stream of GI's going to and from town during the course of the day, especially after shift changes.

Once in town, the first stop would usually be a favorite bath house.  The one hour treatment was a nice hot bath and shampoo, performed by the beautiful "poo-ying" (girl) of your choice.  The bath was followed by a powdering and a full body massage from head to toes, with the "special massage" available at no extra cost.  The going rate for the bath houses was 50 Baht per hour, about $2.50 in US dollars.  As a Sergeant, I made $220 a month.  It doesn't sound like much now, but  it was enough to make me seem wealthy by Thai standards, and I passed many an hour in the bath houses of Udorn.  I was one squeaky clean GI!  What I didn't spend in the bath houses or on bar hopping, I spent on gold jewelry and gem stones, which were extremely cheap there, compared to US prices.  As poorly paid as GI's were by US standards, we could and did live like kings in Southeast Asia!

To sum it all up, quite in contrast to my early misgivings, for the first few weeks, it looked like a tour here would be a real "piece of cake" compared to my tour on Okinawa! - at least with regard to the living conditions.  It all seemed so incongruous with wartime!  Not that I wanted to trade places, but I actually felt guilty, knowing that there were others who were eating out of cans and sleeping in snake and leech infested swamps, while so many of us were living the "easy life."  But this was the strangest of wars the US had ever been involved in.  For many GI's in Southeast Asia, even for most of us, the day to day living was fairly "normal", occasionally punctuated by moments of blinding fear or soul wrenching despair.  Even the combat troops who went on patrol in the steaming jungles and rice paddies of South Vietnam in the morning, by evening might be partying in town and "living it up" in the many bars that catered to the American GI's.  On the flip side of that coin, you could be partying one moment and dead the next.  It was a very strange, confusing war indeed.

Other vet (With some enthusiasm): "You a Vietnam vet!?  Me too!  I was at Cam Ranh Bay, '68 and '69!  Where were YOU stationed?"

My response:  "I was at Udorn in '67 / '68, brother!"

Other vet: (Wearing a puzzled look)  "Udorn? Where's that??"

My response: (Knowing what's coming next)  "Udorn, Thailand.  Up country, near the border with Laos."

Other vet: (Visibly disappointed and with thinly veiled contempt)  "Thailand??... Oh..... (Pause)  We went THERE for R & R!" 

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