To My Friends from the Vietnam War–Mostly Black and Therefore Mostly Dead

June 16, 2021 at 8:01 am Leave a comment


That sounds very hostile, although it isn’t. Our poisonous environment is more poisonous to non-whites because the white population has had more time to physically adapt to a progressively poisonous environment. We Vietnam veterans–the ones in range of Agent Orange, I mean, not “Vietnam era” veterans–also have tended to die younger. Quite probably I have epilepsy because I lived in military housing. Lead pipes in the water system affect some people more than others, and I have a progressive disease that prevents the body from manufacturing protein, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (Type 7; extreme light sensitivity, fragile skin, easily bruised, many sprained ankles and wrists in childhood, hyperextension of course [that’s why the common types are grouped under “double-jointed” and don’t generally present much if any of a problem; modern estimates are that WAS–whites, more or less; the Dutch however for instance were not prone to it), hair half the diameter of the normal human’s, fragile fingernails and toenails…and at my age I’ve progressed to blood blisters; there are more lovely details if you wish to look them up and…I have every bloody one of them and I’m 67–the significance of that you can find by looking it up). World War 1 ships also had lead–and asbestos. The USS Oklahoma City (CLG-5*) ComSeventhFlt flagship in the Vietnam war was built in World War I. That’s why it had the conning tower (lookout for submarines, pre-sonar) that I climbed in a typhoon illegally and then was sent out on the ((awash)) main deck to dog something down that would have probably sunk the ship–I’ve also never been seasick and was basically the only person they thought could do it. Illegally, since I wasn’t a bosun’s mate and was under special orders.

*There have been quite a few “USS Oklahoma City” ships; I know one was a destroyer and another a submarine; ours was sunk in target practice. One reason may have been the ship’s log book (I used it for writing notes) that I threw overboard after finding they were photographing it, since I knew things I had no direct answer to except very complicated and complex thought, a level of thought previously thought impossible; it definitely wasn’t psychic.

They didn’t want you to know why I got that traffic checker job at 18, less than a year out of boot camp (I was E3 when I got out of boot camp; I was never a Seaman Apprentice, E2, and therefore could automatically go to an “A” school. They gave me four six year options that were mechanically-oriented. The two things I was never good at was mechanicking [obs. word] and math. I was in the top .1% in every other subject in high school, including those I hadn’t (formally) studied. The fifth was Radioman. The main elements to that were tuning radios (much more difficult then; as I recall SSB radar was just being developed and MOSFETs (a hybridized analog-digital power supply) had just been developed. That means a hybrid between solid state and tube-centered circuitry. Power generation also generates heat which solid state circuits don’t tolerate well) and typing at least 35 wpm. I was the fastest first-year typist Oak Harbor High School had ever had. My speed was 75 wpm. So when they introduced us to the class and the two main requirements, I started laughing hysterically. My father was an electronics technician who worked on machines no one else in the world can (hint; that’s why I was so eager for computer simulacrums of flying airplanes–my astigmatism is so bad I can’t)…yeah, flight trainers. In the mid-60s. Fun, but I couldn’t do instruments-only with no training and there really are what seems like a thousand gauges, switches, levers, handles and assorted paraphernalia in a crowded cockpit that was big. That also involved multi-band radios; I even had one so I could for one thing accurately check the time.

So my class took those two tests and failed them. Well, I didn’t. Most of the time I was supposedly in school I was doing what I wanted, including The Writings of Mao Tse Tung.[Anglicization spelling of ‘Tse’ has changed.] Someone transparently a spook and supposedly a student asked me about that and asked to borrow the book when I was done. The notes I left in the book indicated I was studying his tactics and prejudices. Prejudice is the step before judgment; it is the assumptions/presumptions/more accurately ‘a priori’s. A prioris if you prefer. Causation is the easiest one to indicate. It can’t be proven–it can’t even be tested, so it’s a hypothesis that lies at the root of all rationalist thought. Logic reflects the workings of the human brain with its associated lingual systems, not a necessary attribute of the outside world. I got drunk a lot. I got high a lot. Oh, one of the reasons I kept on reading that book during “A” school was that it required a Secret clearance; being in the Radioman Division of the Okie City required a Top Secret clearance; being a traffic checker proofreading the weekly state-of-the-war report [ComSeventhFlt–>CincPacFlt–>JCS–Richard Nixon] required a Top Secret Crypto* clearance. [Crypto is cryptography or encoding/decoding material sent in a manner designed to be illegible to outside interception of any given signal, in addition to any other method already in force; that particular matter I cannot address directly further. Still. I found that out when I realized I could force the government to reconsider my petition for compensation.

A lot but not all of you knew that. I was the one who stated at the end of 1972 “I don’t want any more racial incidents while I’m on this ship. If you’re gonna do it, do it after I’m gone or you’ll pay for it.” A cursory examination reveals that December 1972-August 1975 there weren’t any. I cannot say why except posthumously and for a number of reasons. I will give an example of why; the Navy decided to put in my service jacket, as accessible to the VA, that I was ‘suspected of using drugs.’ When they gave me the traffic checker job they told me I’d be followed in (nearly) every foreign port other than home port, Yokosuka. I was. I must admit I’m not sure about Olongapo, but I was in Manila. And of course I wouldn’t do drugs with that high a clearance. Well, unless they had told me I could and obviously they wouldn’t do that. For one thing, I’d have to know when the drug tests were going to happen, and even more obviously they couldn’t and wouldn’t do that. The NSA wouldn’t admit I worked for them until last year; both Vietnam and my enlistment ended in 1975 and I have had no means of accessing classified materials since then. I’ll also admit that I have knowledge of both old a current classified data, all obtained legitimately given that it’s accepted I’m a genius. Although I couldn’t find it (expectedly) on the internet, one person I know of answered all of the questions correctly on a Stanford-Binet Intelligence Quotient test correctly in 1978. I’d been noticed already because of the education tests I alluded to. My high school, as I recall, actually got reissued (a different version of) that test because of an anomaly. I also had read more books in the public and high school libraries than any other person had; a directive had just been used to tell the FBI about heavy readers who included in their reading material that might be useful to ‘terrorists or enemies’.

Two weeks before I took it, our sociology teacher told the class that all the questions on the Stanford-Benet could never be answered correctly because of the control question, which was developed by scientists using computers. To do that and answer all the other questions correctly “couldn’t be by chance.” It was a multiple choice test with 4 possible answers.

When I told him I was going to go take it (after he’d told me the only free way I could take it, at a military recruiter’s office) he said, “Glenn, be sure you don’t answer all the questions correctly!”

“Okay.” I thought he must be joking because it was impossible. When I told him he looked sad and a bit angry at and for me but didn’t say anything. “But I thought you were joking, I didn’t think I could! You said it was impossible” and he shook his head and walked away. He was the one who talked to me about the year when I deliberately got a “C” average. I never studied. I never took homework home with me. I did it at school except the few things that had to be done outside school (because they couldn’t be done inside, like the little book we were supposed to make using periodicals’ photo clippings and our own words. I kept putting it off. The teacher harassed me after a couple of weeks, so I did it in one night and showed it to her. She thought it was great. She was furious when I handed her what she’d seen as the project, because I hadn’t spent more time (although I got an “A”).

Put that together with I also went to boot camp for 13 weeks not 12 and it turned out when I got to “A” school that had it been 12 weeks I’d have gone to Vietnam to be a Marine radioman, the #! target in patrol squads (then medic then Lt. J.G.) and instead I went to the command ship for that war. It seems they were expecting me to go there for quite a long time. It was a Navy family, too, and my grandfather, adopted father, brother, brother in law all had TS clearances, although none as high as mine.

That’s why I seemed so strange, guys. And I couldn’t talk about my job other than the mechanics associated with it because I knew too much data, more than any other enlisted man in that war and probably more than anyone else in the world–by virtue of clearance, too, but more because I was allowed to use Navy communications to do research. That still astonishes me, because “Need To Know” is the first step in acquisition of classified data. That was what told me DIA and NSA were aware of me. Well, that and the message I sent to Kissinger and a 2 and 1/2 page ‘note’ that was sent up the chain of command. It contained what I thought needed to be done in communications (just one thing), observations on matters connected with the war, and how to placate Mao. Russia and the U.S. were terrified by them.

Almost everything I knew about the war would have been repeated if I’d told it, and I was the only possible source of a lot of it (most officers knew only a tiny bit of what I did, and Admiral Steele was well aware of me. Although I’d forgotten about it (when the admiral entered a compartment, “Attention on Deck!” and everyone jumped to their feet, but that alerted me he was there, so it only happened once when he entered Main Com and I was there) he used to watch me traffic check. My proofread/read wpm was over 3000 words a minute on single-column message drafts (the source for messages from a given officer to another military person, which then had to be typed on a teletype to generate paper tape which was what the input for communications radios was) and I at first could read a page of the draft and then proof an equal amount of data; however, it employed the second kind of short-term memory and burned it out, so it ended up being about a quarter of a page and even sometimes line-by-line.

So that’s the beginning of something I apparently need to write, and I cannot afford the assumption that I have enough time to seek publication. I’m (as I alluded earlier in suggested reading) on Nature’s death row. I’m also walking while having a disease that stops most people from walking at around 50. There’s simply no way to tell, except that blood blisters like I get are from ruptured veins. The usual COD is a stroke or heart attack caused by EDS (Ehlers-Danlos) 7 for those of us who have it.

I cannot write more at this time.

Entry filed under: Dying in Free Fall, Dying In Free Fall, a Vietnam vet's story. Tags: .

Well…we are starting a script the first version of which battles would be the one to spark a world nuclear war. Finally writing again

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