Her name was Lon, or at least that is what my memory tells me. Lon was, I'd guess, somewhere in her late 20s or early 30s. She worked as one of the housegirls at the base. Lon's English wasn't great, but it was a darn site better than my Vietnamese! She didn't work our trailer but would frequently stop by when her work was done. Over the months we became friends and much of what I came to understand about her culture came from her. She was also always full of questions about the "world" I came from.

We liked to joke about her taking me home, to Hue City, to meet her family. Both of us knew this would never happen but it was fun to consider. There used to be a television series called, "China Beach." One episode reminded me bitterly of the fact that I never completely trusted her. Was she really just a gentle soul from this distant country? Or, did she possibly work for the Viet Cong...gathering little scraps of infomation that could kill us. Did she count her steps, converting them into meters, as she moved between each of the buildings. Later did she give those distances to a VC mortar crew to aid them in zeroing in on each of these structures? You wanted to trust your friend, but deep down the flame of suspicion always burned.

As my year in her country drew near I began to ask her if there was anything from "my world" that I could send her. She always declined, saying all was fine. Then one day she remarked that her children sometimes got cold. Could I possibly send her some old, cast-out sweaters? I said I would but she just shook her head. "No Bill, you will not." "You will go back to your world and forget all about us." "You will never send those sweaters."

The day I left she gave me a Vietnamese candy...something that looked like chocolate covered with some type of seeds. It made it home with me and I slowly began to collect sweaters for her and her children. Every so often I would look at her gift and want to try a piece of it...but the flame of suspicion always smouldered.

Poison?

Time intervened, the box filled slowly while events in Viet Nam moved quickly. Hue fell to the Communists and I knew the sweaters would never get to her...or would spell her death if they did. Finally, mice found her gift.

Lon, it's been over three decades... I never sent the sweaters but I never forgot. If I had but three wishes, one of them would be that all of you could know we didn't forget those of you we fought for or became friends with.

I'm sorry my own suspicion kept me from enjoying the sweetness of your gift.