I returned to Viet Nam 28 days later. I must have been lucky because I got re-assigned to a supply platoon in-country, then I spent the next six years as an officer in the Quartermaster Corps. Quartermaster officers do a lot of hard work – we’re the ones who get the beans and bullets to where they need to be – but we seldom face hostile fire, unless it’s over a bad poker game at the Officers Club.
Luci was married that next summer to a guy named Patrick Nugent. She was only nineteen, but girls got married at an earlier age back then. Plus, she needed to get out of her Daddy’s house.
LBJ withdrew from the 1968 presidential race. It didn’t look like he could win, the Viet Nam war was going bad and his popular support was all but non-existent. He and Lady Bird moved back to Texas where he resumed smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey. He died in ’73 after his third heart attack.
I never did hear much from Luci again, although she sent me an invitation to her wedding. I was back in Nam that summer, so I sent my regrets. I was probably not the kind of guest that she’d actually want to show up at the wedding anyhow.
The old man sent me a brief letter in 1970, much to my surprise. It was introspective and he rambled some. It was personal, but given the present circumstances I can share parts of it with you. I can still hear is voice as it read it now.
Dear Hoss,
How the hell are you? I did my damndest to get that bastard McNamara to keep your sorry ass out of harms way as the war got uglier while I was figuring out how to get you boys home. He told me he had you in charge of cots and bandages. That prick better not be lying to me or I’ll kill him when I see him in the hereafter. McNamara’s a Mormon, you know and I don’t trust those people one damn bit.
I been meaning to mention this to you for some time but didn’t know how to start. Since I don’t have much time life on earth I figure I better do it now.
When you and my Luci were in the WH basement that one time, I couldn’t help notice the size of your dick. A thing like that gets a man jealous. Now before you go thinking the wrong things, I want to tell you that Lady Bird and I have been happily married for 43 years now, and there ain’t been one time when I so much as thought about anyone else.
But truth is, I wished that I had a dick that big. It won’t do me any good now, hell, it’s like trying to push a rope up a tunnel the way things are, and it ain’t going to get any better. Cain’t do nothing about it.
There is one thing that I would like, though. I’d like to take a dick like yours to the eternal hereafter with me, just in case, you know. Just in case.
I expect that you’ll outlive me by a fair amount of years. I truly hope that you do. If there ever comes a time in your life, however, when you think you might need….um….a bit less in the front pocket and a bit more in the wallet, I’ve set up a trust. That trust will pay you a Texas-sized lump of good American money if you’ll send part of what was yours down to the Johnson Library where I’ll be buried. I’ll leave instructions as to opening my casket, etc., if your donation ever shows up.
Now you take care, jeep, and I’ll be looking for you the other side,
[Other personal comments redacted]
Sincerely,
Lyndon
TO BE CONTINUED
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