by Earl Nelson
I was informed I was a national hero. Schools, hospitals, and babies were being named after me.
Poor kids.
During dinner, I sat next to the Commanding General of the Australian officer cadre leading the South Vietnamese Army.
He told me that they were shaping up well and that he was proud to be helping these people. He hoped they wouldn’t have to go to war with the North, but he was confident they would win.
I asked him how they were for heavy equipment like artillery and tanks.
“This isn’t tank country, as far as artillery, we are now making heavy cannon, mortars, and machine guns in Australia.”
“Do you think there will be any wars?”
“No, this army is a stabilizing influence in the area. No one can take them on and are afraid we might ally with an enemy. So, I think it is peace for some time to come, not that I want to be a Chamberlain, our peace is through force like the US.”
“We can only hope.”
Chapter 46
My trip to the President's Palace had gone unnoticed on the way. The next morning as the copilot chauffeured us to the airport was a different story.
Word had got out that I was in-country and what I was driving, or riding, as we drove down the main street people lined the street and waved. It was like a one-vehicle parade. I gave up and started to do the royal wave. It still felt silly.
The ramps were in place to drive the car onboard and I stayed with it. The crowd had even come onto the airport runway.
The police tried to clear the runway but there were too many people. I finally had them open the aircraft door so I could wave again to the crowd. This time it was an American full-on wave.
The crowd roared their approval. Without a sound system, there was no way that I could speak, and I didn’t even know what to say unless it was, “Get off the runway you damn fools.”
I backed off and the crew closed the door. The pilot revved the engines and all of a sudden, the runway was clear. Maybe they weren’t damn fools after all.
The next step in our plan was simple. The 707 couldn’t land in Hanoi so I needed a smaller plane. We taxied across the field where a mobile stair was pushed against the side of the aircraft. I ran down the steps and climbed into the waiting turboprop.
If I had gone straight to the turboprop the crowd would never have let me take off, or worse yet someone would have been killed by the props. The Chief Pilot had come up with this plan when he saw the crowds coming onto the airfield.
I felt like the Ricky Jackson circus was on the road again. That would make a neat song, “On the Road Again.”
After that, the flight to Hanoi was uneventful. The North Vietnamese were expecting us, so I was only mildly frightened by the old MIGs that escorted us in.
I wasn’t frightened of being shot down; I was scared that one would fall out of the sky on top of us. For my personal safety, I may have to invest in the North Vietnamese air force.
This time I had to ride in their old limo. I would have thought that it died after my last trip, but it kept chugging along.
Maybe I could gift them a limo. How to do it without them losing face?
I was taken to the Presidential Palace or the Yellow Palace as it was known. Every country but France had Houses for their leadership, they had Palaces. Maybe France would become a Monarchy again one of these days. Would that boy that Mary liked become King?
I was given a grand welcome by the leaders. Unlike the South, the North kept its citizens under control so there would be no impromptu parades.
They got right down to business. The port was proceeding nicely. Employment was up because of the port construction. This was leading to a level of happiness in the citizenship. This was proof that Communism worked.
To say I was flabbergasted would be an understatement. At that moment I was so glad that I had acted in movies, so I had learned to keep a straight face.
They all looked to me for a reaction. I had to bite the inside of my cheek, but I didn’t give them one.
“Impressive,” said the Chairman. “I didn’t think you’d keep from reacting upon hearing such a foolish statement.”
“You know,” he said, “We aren’t fools, we can see that Communism is doomed, that it can’t compete in keeping its citizens happy when judged against the West. When it was far away like in America or Australia our people couldn’t see it. Now they will be able to.”
“To stay in power, we must raise their standard of living, or the South will overtake us. Plus, with the demise of Russian Communist support, we can’t even keep our government in power. The people will rise if their standard of living falls any further.”
I had to take a deep breath before I could ask any questions. This was a bolt out of the blue.
“What are your plans?”
“We have enough income from our trade with Australia to meet our short-term needs. We need a large influx of money to rebuild our infrastructure which has fallen in disarray ever since the French left.”
That was an interesting take on things, I thought they had kicked the French out.
“How much money are we talking about?”
“Several hundred million dollars.”
“I don’t have several hundred million dollars lying around but I could come up with fifty million and help guarantee loans from banks in Hong Kong and China.”
“That would do wonders for our plans to modernize our country.”
And they love power more than communism I thought. Anything to bury the beast was my next thought.
“I would like to give several more gifts to your country. First to help buy you a more modern air force and a gift of a small fleet of motor cars for your government.”
From their smiles, they all knew they would be getting a new family car. This was my bribe. The Airforce modernization was for their protection. Jet fighters could prevent an invasion but not take ground. This would help keep the balance of power in the region. I didn’t trust the North or the South.
“We thank you, Your Grace, we would like to invite you to a State dinner tonight, please wear your dress uniform.”
Thank you, Harold, for insisting I bring it along even though I thought I wouldn’t need it.
I spent the rest of the afternoon with the Engineering crew overseeing the port construction crew. Not as far along as at Saigon, the port was still making good progress.
Here not only the docks and cranes to handle the cargo containers had to be built but the roads leading to them and the support buildings for maintenance and overall harbor control.
The harbor itself was being dredged in parts and resurveyed and remarked with buoys and modern traffic control for the shipping.
I was introduced to the young lady who turned out to be the granddaughter of one of the leaders. She was to be my ‘date’ for the evening. It would have helped if we had a mutual language. She wasn’t bad looking she just didn’t ring my chimes; I don’t think I rang hers either as she hid several yawns.
After dinner, I was awarded the Gold Star Award for my help. In private, the Chairman told me this was equal to the Hero of the Soviet Union award. Now that was one award I would never receive.
After dinner, there was a dance. I danced with the young lady whose name I couldn’t even pronounce. I noticed she kept looking at one young man in particular. I edged us over and exchanged partners with him. Granddad may not have been happy, but the young couple was ecstatic.
What I didn’t realize until later was that I had just given a very high-level approval for their being together.
When I got back to England I would have to check and see if I would be allowed to wear these foreign awards. There were some strict rules. Most centering around allies only.
The next morning flying back to Saigon to change planes I realized the only government left claiming to be fully communist was North Korea. Could I do something there? I didn’t think so, those leaders were stone-cold crazy.
Changing
planes in Saigon went smoothly and the flight back to Hong Kong was the best sort, boring. Harold was in a dither about my two new awards, could they be worn and what precedence would they have. He would have to send some telegrams from Jackson House Asia.
It was late when I got to Jackson House, so I went straight to bed. After my morning workout, I read my mail while I ate breakfast.
One letter jumped out at me. It was forwarded from home; it was included with a package of mail that Mum or Dad thought should be forwarded. One of them looked ominous. It was from my local Selective Service Board.
I wondered what it could be about. It started with, “Greetings from your friends and neighbors.”
It couldn’t be, but it was. I had been drafted.
Chapter 47
My draft letter had the date for me to report for a physical. It was two days from now, crossing the international date line meant it was three days from now.
I debated what I should do. If I didn’t report for the physical, I could have legal problems. If I stated I couldn’t join the US Army because I was in the British Army that might cause me to lose my citizenship.
I called Mr. Norman and asked if he had any knowledge on this issue. He told me that he would start working the diplomatic channels, but that, if possible, I should report for the physical.
Next, I called Mum and Dad and told them of the problem. Dad said he would start working on our Congressmen and Senators. Mum suggested I call JFK. I was reluctant to do that for some reason.
I told her that I would hold it in reserve. I would be flying home at once to take the bloody physical.
It was only after I hung up that I realized that I had no idea what the time was at the other end when I called them.
I called my Chief Pilot and told him to get the plane ready for a trip back to the Ontario Airport as soon as possible.
He told me that he could have everything in place by daylight. I let Boris and Harold know what was going on. It wasn’t that late, but I was tired, I toughed it out and called the Governor of Hong Kong and let him know that I was leaving for the US on urgent business first thing in the morning.
I then called the Chinese Ambassador with the same message and asked him to relay it to the Empress.
At first light, we took off for Ontario, California. We would arrive there before midnight today.
The flight as usual was long and boring. I kept thinking about what influence I could bring to bear. I was the head of a multi-million-dollar company. That should count for something.
Landing on time there was a limo waiting for me at Ontario. I could have flown my Cessna but that didn’t seem wise after my long trip.
At home, my parents were waiting up for me, but we agreed to talk in the morning. Even though I had slept on the plane I was exhausted.
In the morning things didn’t look much better. Dad had talked to the Congressmen and Senators. They said they would start inquiries, but I should report for the physical.
Mr. Norman called with basically the same message. He did say the Queen was not amused.
I had the day to rest which I did by taking a ride on George to the Forestry Station and hitting a few buckets of golf balls.
The next morning, I reported to the recruiting station where I was loaded on a bus with twenty-some other guys. We rode to some facility near El Toro and were put through our paces.
To no surprise, I was declared fit after my physical, psychological, mental, and moral evaluations. I was told that I had ten days to file for an exemption.
I tried to tell them who I was and what I had been doing, no one wanted to listen. The only time I even raised an eyebrow was in the psychological evaluation. I was asked if I would have trouble killing someone in defense of my country.
I told the shrink that it had never bothered me to kill before so I didn’t think it would now. That caused a whole series of questions. In the end, I think he wrote, ‘no problems, will kill.’ I had been forged in fire.
It was a long bus ride home. I listened to the other guy's talk. You could tell they didn’t have a clue about military life or just about any life for that matter.
At home, Dad didn’t have good news. A request for a deferment was being resisted at a very high level of government. Both the Senators from California had talked to the Pentagon and were told that I had no political influence to avoid the draft.
The Kennedys had me in a corner for not complying with their every wish. This was confirmed by a call from Mr. Norman. The State Department had informed the British Foreign Office that no exemption would be granted to me.
The Queen was not amused.
I received another call, it was from the Empress of China, Empress Ping. She was not amused.
I think the diplomatic pressure on the US had to be mounting.
The phone calls kept coming back and forth for the next ten days. I received a letter telling me when and where to report for basic training.
This would be interesting. From a Colonel in the British Coldstream Guards to a draftee in the US Army. In a way I couldn’t wait for the time we had to appear in uniform with our medals. It wouldn’t be smart, but it would be fun.
I could flee the country, but that wasn’t a good answer. I wasn’t about to call the White House and give in to whatever demands they would make.
What I could do was up the economic pressure on them. I had press releases put out telling how new jobs were being created by Jackson Enterprises in China, North and South Vietnam, Australia, and further expansion in Europe.
The gains to these economies would be a billion dollars a year. What wasn’t said was that that billion could have gone to the US economy.
On the appointed day and time, I was on the bus for Fort Lewis, Washington. I think I was in shock about how this all came about. Not that serving in the Army was a bad thing, but the politics were so hardball.
I decided to compartmentalize things, get through basic training, and then take care of the Kennedy boys. I wonder what they had against me. I hadn’t refused them that much. There had to be more to the story.
I had tried to talk about it with my parents, but Mum brushed me off. I mean she shut the conversation down. That told me that she was involved in whatever was going on.
I could make a couple of guesses, but I didn’t want to.
I had read enough about basic that the events from getting off the bus to having our haircut, uniforms issued, be shown how to put our gear away, and make our beds were no surprises.
Even getting awakened in the middle of the night was nothing unexpected, at least to me.
They had us take the AFQT tests. I suspected I scored high and should be considered for OCS, but nothing was said. Later I found that I would be considered too young.
My interview about my experience was a hoot, at least for me. When asked about special skills, I was a licensed pilot, with several hundred hours in jets.
Educational background included a year at Oxford University until I was kicked out.
Asked about any other experience that gave me the chance to say I was CEO of Jackson Enterprises a billion-dollar corporation.
When asked if I had prior military service, I told the officer interviewing me that I was commissioned as a Colonel in the Coldstream Guards regiment of the British Army and that my commanding officer was Queen Elizabeth.
I think it was the last that got me sent to the brig.
An army-appointed lawyer came to see me, it appeared I was going to be court-martialed. He questioned my statements and asked why I told such lies.
I asked him if he had checked up on anything I had told them. He looked non-plussed when he said no.
Why don’t you do that, and is it possible for me to have civilian representation?
“Yes, but it would be expensive.”
“What do I have to do?”
“I will call whoever you tell me, and they will contact a lawyer for you. I will work with them to turn your case over.”
>
I gave him Dad’s office phone number.
The next day he came back and told me that a lawyer would be here tomorrow, by the name of F. Lee Bailey.
I didn’t know the name, but I knew he would be the best.
He was.
His first question, did I just want out, or did I want to cause embarrassment.
“Embarrassment, the more the better.”
My Army lawyer was sitting there with his mouth open.
“So, this is all true?”
“You will see.”
The papers were filed for a full court-martial. I was being charged with insubordination in not giving truthful responses to an officer's questions.
My first defense witness was my Chief Pilot who testified that the hours in my logbook were correct and that I now had several hundred hours as a pilot of a 707 jet.
Next was the Chancellor of Oxford University stating that I had attended for a year before being sent down. He also stated that he may have been hasty in his decision and that I was welcome back.
Dad, as acting President of Jackson Enterprises, while I was in the Army, testified that I was the CEO of the company and the holder of the patents which were the company’s strength.
As each bit of testimony was given you could see the officers of the court becoming more uncomfortable.
The President of the Court was a major. The rests were Captains and Lieutenants.
When my General from Coldstream came in, I thought they were going to have a heart attack.
He was sworn in and asked to make a statement before he answered any questions.
He was allowed.
“I have been commanded by my Supreme Commander Queen Elizabeth the Second of Great Britan to find out why Colonel the Duke of Hong Kong Richard Jackson is not being tried in a court of his peers.”
That ended the trial. The Major knew when the potato was too hot. He passed it upstairs to the base commander, who being no dummy bumped it up the chain of command.
It didn’t hurt those court-martials were not held in secret. Dad had his TV, radio, and newspaper organizations there. There were media representatives from all over the world, including Britain, China, and the Vietnams.
