Surviving in disguise

While I worked in KSA a friend of mine was a military adviser to the Saudi army. One of his tasks was to conduct an inventory of the supply depot in Jeddah. There were items/weapons that could not be accounted for. (note: this is not unusual in any large supply operation). My friend worked alongside of a retired US Army Major in Riyadh. They had documents that showed two "Half Tracks with dual .50 Caliber Machine guns", mounted on top, had been shipped into Jeddah back in the 1950's. No one could account for, or locate them.

They flew over to Jeddah and sure enough the Stock Record Cards showed them being received back in the 1950's. They questioned the officers and men in the supply depot trying to locate these rather large pieces of equipment. These Half Tracks were as big as armored  tanks with tracks, along with big diesel engines and armored plating on the sides.With the size of them, they would be hard to lose.

The army personnel explained that there were no people currently working there, that were there in the 1950's when they were received, and no knew of the whereabouts of these items. The two Americans continued questioning them, as they said everyone was dead, or retired that had worked in the supply depot at that time. The two US advisers said "surely someone knows of a retired army person that was here and still alive". One Saudi Officer said that there was an old retired soldier living in a small village, up in the mountains near Taif, and he had worked at the supply depot back then.

After getting directions to the village and acquiring an interpreter, with driver, they drove up into the mountains to the old mans village.He was a courtly old guy with white beard and hair. Through the interpreter this old man told  them that he remembered the Half Tracks, and knew their location. He went on further to say, through the interpreter, that they would be required to drive him to the coast of the Red Sea, south of Jeddah. The next day with driver, interpreter and the old man, they found themselves driving along coast. Suddenly some distance, or miles south of Jeddah the old man told them to stop. He pointed east into the desert and told them to drive there, as usual the interpreter relayed this to the American advisers. They  drove about three miles into the desert, the old soldier said "Stop here" in Arabic to the small group. He got out of the vehicle walked about 50 yards pointed down at the sand, and said there is one here, walked about another 50 yards pointing to the sand beneath him, and said the other ones here. After marking both locations, they drove back to Jeddah,  looking forward to digging them up the next day, and wondering if the Half Tracks were really there..

The next day they returned with a flat bed truck, some shovels and a half dozen Yemenese laborers. They did the digging exactly where the old man had told the interpreter they were buried, and had been pointed out to them. Both of these vehicles were uncovered and in fantastic condition. The sand has a natural silicone in it. The tank like tracks were wrapped in paper and covered with cosmoline grease. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M3_half-track

They had brought new batteries and diesel fuel. As soon as they were uncovered, batteries changed, and fueled. The retired US Army Major started one up and drove it out of the hole, yelling like a cowboy, driving it in circles on the desert floor. He had driven one in WWII and this moment was both exciting and full of nostalgia for him.

The following day, they were having coffee while driving the old man back to his village, up in the mountains. They remarked on what a great memory he had and how much they admired him. All of a sudden he said with a British accent, " I was happy to help both you gentlemen". Stunned by his Oxford English, the two Americans looked at each other. The retired Major said to him " for three days you've been making us use an interpreter to speak with you, why did you do that? Your English is perfect!. The old man replied " It was quite entertaining listening to you discuss me and our little project". Having said that, the old guy raised his coffee cup to them and said "Cheers". Dumbfounded the two Americans fell silent, for a short while as they drove down the mountain road. Then the four of them, the interpreter, the old guy and the two Americans broke out in laughter.

Cheers, Jack Johnstone  PS Shit Happens

Surviving In Disguise

During my seven years in Vietnam, I traveled many an open, but unsecured road. The highways of the Central Highlands, Highway 1 winding up the coast through rubber plantations and hamlets, and the highways around Saigon. Sometimes I only survived because I was small potatoes and the Viet Cong had a more important plan than shooting, or capturing me on the highway that particular day. However, they did on many occasions capture, or kill American military and civilians along the roads. Once my boss, an ex-Special Forces member, were on a road trip from Nha Trang to Da Lat. Bill Mc Cleary insisted on stopping to have a few beers, with a friend at an out-post along our route to Da Lat. He had me wringing my hands, as we sat and chatted with his friend. I knew we were pushing the envelope and would be caught in on the highway after dark. After dark no one was supposed to be traveling these roads. You were subject to be shot by both friendly forces and the Viet Cong.

As the sun went down, in the darkness, I was high tailing it down a mountain road towards a bridge, about twenty miles from Da Lat. All of a sudden automatic weapons fire opened up on both sides of the road. These were ARVAN's (Vietnamese Army) protecting the bridge. I slammed on the breaks, and our pick-up truck slid sideways down the road, screeching to a stop about a hundred yards from the bridge. A Vietnamese Officer approached our truck, with his weapon trained on us. He came to the drivers side and told me to get out of the truck. He told me that he wanted to show me something and to stay behind him. He pointed out a trip wire connected too a couple of Claymore mines on each side of the road. He had them disconnected and shook his head as I explained our predicament of traveling after dark. He flagged us on wishing us good luck, and I knew it was not over.

Not far out of Da Lat, we ran into a road block maned by National Guard. In their black pajamas they looked like VC to me, except they were carrying carbines and not AK-47's. Their leader approached our vehicle and looked in the window of our truck. He seemed not to look at my face, but starred at my wrist watch and pistol laying on the seat beside me. I'm sure he noticed that Bill McCleary held a Korean War vintage .45 cal. grease gun in his lap. It was known that the ARVN and National Guard had robbed and killed Americans on the highway at night. It may seem silly, but he looked just like the Chinese villain in the film Lord Jim, who tried to murder Peter O'Tool while taking him across the Hong Kong harbor at night. He wore a bandanna, and had glaucoma in one eye, giving him an extra sinister look. To this day I'm sure he wanted to rob us. The American musical group "The Bubble Machine" were shot and killed, not far out of Long Binh one night. One survived, but was wounded and played dead as the Vietnamese Army took their watches and wallets, after killing them.

My survival was not all dumb luck. One day near Nha Trang, I thought "what would make my trips safer on these unsecured roads". It dawned on me that if I looked like a Vietnamese, they would not just shoot me out of hand. On my next trip home, I went to a theatrical costume shop, on Powell street, just above Harpers Books. When the salesperson asked me what I was interested in, I asked if he could make me look like an Asian. He said he could and asked me if I was in a play. I replied that I was working in Vietnam, and wanted to use the disguise on road trips. Wow! he exclaimed, this is the most unusual request I've ever had. He presented me with a transparent mask, and wig to cover the borders of it. I carried it to Vietnam and kept it with me, wearing it on many occasions. From across the street, or in a passing vehicle, you could not tell that I had a mask on. I may be sitting here today because of this disguise, I have attached a picture of myself wearing it. People are funny about things like this story contains, if they have not seen, nor heard of anything like this in movies, or books, they become Doubting Thomas's. Years after I used this disguise, I heard that the CIA use this method for survival. I don't doubt it, simplicity of concept is powerful.