Date: Thu, 12 Jun 2003 17:53:21 -0400
From: John Smith <madeithome@hotmail.com>
Subject: Military Encounters #3; Encounter In Thailand Part One

     This is the third in a series of unrelated stories. It is strictly a
work of fiction. Although I have used places that I was actually stationed
at during my military career, the events never happened and the characters,
with a few exceptions, do not exist. I have based some of my characters on
people I have known, and may have even fantasized about. However I have
absolutely no reason to believe any of them were gay, bi, or ever thought
about sex with another guy. This story will be broken into several Parts.
The first part will set the scene.

     The story contains detailed descriptions of consentual sex between guys
of varying ages. If you are offended by this type of story, do not read it.
Otherwise, hope you enjoy.

Military Encounters #3; Encounter In Thailand Part One

     The year was 1966.  My name is Gordon Beecham. I was a 33 year old Air
Force Captain then, 6' 1", 175 lbs, blonde hair and blue eyes. I had spent a
tour as an enlisted man before completing my college degree and receiving a
commission thru Officer Training School at Lackland Air Force Base in San
Antonio, Texas.

     Because of the enlisted time, I was roughly ten years older than my
fellow officers. To my chagrin, they called me 'Pappy' just to harass me. I
usually retalliated by referring to them, individually, as 'Junior'.  It was
all good natured ribbing.

     I had been chosen to go thru an accelerated pilot training program,
since there was a critical need for helicopter jocks. I went thru primary
flight training at Randolph AFB (also in San Antonio), flying T-28's..a
prop-powered trainer that had replaced the aging T6 Texan.

     After only six months, instead of the usual one year, I was sent to
Sheppard AFB in Wichita Falls, Texas for helicopter school...another six
months. I received my training in the HH3E twin jet helicopter, built by
Sikorsky.

     Along with my silver wings, I also received my assignment to the 38th
Aerospace Rescue & Recovery Service, stationed at Da Nang Air Base, Vietnam.
  It was no surprise. All of those chosen for this accelerated program knew
they were headed for South East Asia upon graduation.

     After attending Escape & Evasion training at Fairchild AFB, Washington
and Jungle Survival training at Clark AFB in the Philippeans, I arrived at
Da Nang in September of 1966. We expected to be quartered in the Squadron
billets, but we were mysteriously put up in temporary quarters.

     We were allowed a few days to get over the jet lag, then gathered in
the hangar for a special briefing. The US government had just decided to
allow the bombing of North Vietnam. We were told we were to be moved to
Udorn Royal Thai Air Base, in the Northwest part of Thailand, near the
Laotian border.

     It didn't make sense, until it was pointed out to us on the maps that
Udorn was the closest friendly base to Hanoi. We would be the primary battle
damage recovery base for aircraft hit while bombing targets in North
Vietnam. Obviously, the Air Force wanted us positioned for quick search and
recovery missions dealing with pilots and crews unable to make it back to
friendly lines.

     We were flown out enmasse two days later. When we arrived at Udorn
RTAB, our quarters had been arranged. The US had gained possession of a
small section of housing, just off base. The small huts, called 'Hooches'
were built with wood from the sprawling Teak forrests that dotted the
countryside.

     The huts were small, but very comfortable. The pilots each had their
own hut, which consisted of a living area, a small kitchen with a tiny
two-burner stove, and a small apartment size refridgerator. Each unit also
had it's own shower. The best feature however was that the quarters were
actually air conditioned..Really! Our little 'community' was tied into the
base's power and water system.

     When I remembered the almost squalid conditions I had seen troops
living in at Da Nang, I couldn't believe our good fortune. The reasoning was
that the Air Force didn't want it's pilots subjected to the high humidity of
Thailand. They wanted us refreshed when we were called on to risk our lives
to rescue downed pilots. After a long, hard day, it gave us a place to get
our crew rest in comfort.

     Ah, Yes! I KNEW there was some reason I picked the United States Air
Force, instead of the Army, or Marines.  The Navy was out, because I had no
interest in landing on a postage stamp in the middle of the ocean. Harmon
Rabb, you can have it!  Besides, with MY luck, I would probably be deathly
seasick!

     So much for the prologue. My first task was to find someone to keep my
quarters clean. The Base Housing Office had a list of approved housemaids,
as well as house boys for those who preferred a male. These people had been
thoroughly checked out, and were given periodic medical exams. One of the
perks these people received was linited medical care..something definitely
lacking in the regular community.

     Many of the maids or houseboys supported their families on the wages
they earned. Their income was right up there in the upper income
groups...just below the prostitutes and massage parlor gals!  They ranged in
age from teens to old and wrinkled.

     I went thru the list and looked at the pictures that were part of each
applicant's file. Many of the other pilots picked the prettiest females
available, for obvious reasons. These gals were inspected by the Flight
Surgeon once each month for VD! It was plain to see they had plans for these
gals that involved a little more than routine house cleaning.

     I really felt more comfortable having a male housekeeper, and not
solely because I was bi. I made a list of seven possibles. The youngest was
15, the oldest 28.  I made arrangements for the applicants to be interviewed
at my 'Hootch' over the next week.  I would be in and out, getting the
Squadron orientation briefing and a couple of check flights, before I would
assume rotation on Alert Status.

     I spent some time with each of the applicants, looking for one I would
be spending a lot of time with. I looked closely at personality, how well
they spoke English, how they dressed, how they carried themselves, etc. I
was not, at least not consciuosly, looking for a sexual partner, but I must
admit appearance was a big factor.

     After going thru them all, I eliminated four of the seven for various
reasons. I called the other three back for a second, more thorough
interview. I even offered them to join me in a beer, or a soda, and a
sit-down very informal talk. I wanted to see how nervous or intimidated they
might be around an American.

     Finally, the one I picked was named Nguen Something-Or-Other (Last name
consisting of a group of vowells and syllables). He looked about fourteen,
but his file listed him as eighteen. He was so tiny, I had first doubts that
he could do the work. He was only about 5' 3" and no more than 90 lbs. He
had a mop of unruly black hair. His facial features showed a mixed heritage,
probably from a n American father.

     Nguen was dressed neatly in clothes that were worn, but clean. One of
his best features was a brilliant smile exposing a mouth full of healthy
pearly white teeth. His complexion was flawless and very smooth. He was not
as dark as some of the Thais I had seen.

     He was delighted to be picked and threw his arms around me thanking me
for believing in him. I won't try to imitate his English in this story.
Although he spoke a broken version, I could understand him easily. He
understood what was said to him perfectly.

     As the two of us settled down to the daily routine, I came to really
like this little guy. He had a great sense of humor and would laugh easily.
I found out he had grown up in a village farther South. His parents were
both dead and he had been taken in by a family not related to him.

     He was reluctant to give out details, but I managed to get the feeling
he was not wanted at home. Many times, he came to do his work looking
rumpled and dirty. He would shower and change into a clean set of clothes he
carried in a bundle under his arm. At the end of the day, he would change
back into the rumpled clothes.

     About two weeks later I began to notice he was losing weight to the
point of looking sickly. One of the Flight Surgeons lived in our little
community. Captain Jerry Gardner was the doctor who looked after the pilots
of our Detachment.

     I told him about Nguen's deteriorating condition. "I'll stop by
tomorrow and take a look" Jerry offered.

     Nguen seemed uneasy when I told him Jerry wanted to check him over. The
reason why came out when Jerry finished examining him and called me aside.

     "Seems Nguen has been sleeping on the streets and begging for food" He
confided. Apparently, Nguen's 'family' had kicked him out and disowned him.
He had been surviving on his own since then. Jerry told me physically he was
OK "Just needs a good meal".

     I thanked Jerry and sat down to think about what I should do. If the
Housing Office found out he was homeless, he could lose his status as an
approved houseboy. He would really be in dire straits then. I knew I
couldn't let that happen.

     I called Nguen over and told him I knew what had happened. Panic showed
on his boyish face. "Oh, Please Beecham-San, don't send me away! I work hard
for you, I no trouble cause!"

     Tears streamed down his face. I quickly moved over in front of his
chair. He looked so tiny clasping his hands together looking down at his
feet.

     "Hey...Hey, Nguen!" I said, reaching for the frail looking boy.
"Nobody's going to send you away! Look at me...You hear? I'm not going to
let anything happen to you!" My hands were on each of his trembling
shoulders.

     He looked up into my eyes "You nnot send me away? I stay...work for
you?"

     "You stay...You work for me! You can live here. We'll make room." I
tried to assure him.

     When he realized what I was saying, he flew out of the chair into my
arms. I felt his tears on my cheek as he hugged me and whispered in my ear
"Oh, Thank you Beecham-San, Thank you! Beecham-Sam not be sorry. Nguen work
extra hard. Do everything for you!"

     I laughed and told him he was already doing enough for me. We stayed
there on the floor, his arms around my neck, his soft lips mumbling in Thai
against my neck. I felt a shiver go down my spine and I held him tighter.

     I fixed us a hot meal and watched him wolf it down. He finished off his
plate and I could see he was still hungry, but wouldn't ask for seconds. I
refilled his plate and was rewarded with one of his beautiful smiles.

End Of Part One:

     I took a little more time than usual setting this story up. Hope you
haven't found it too boring. The pace will pick up in the remaining parts.