Phu Bat

Rick told Jake how Major Pancik got to be executive officer of 407th Truck Company in Phu Bat.

“Before he got here, he commanded some ash and trash stateside battalion,” Rick said.

Rick and Jake were on perimeter duty, occupying a sandbagged bunker on the airfield’s northwest perimeter. Likelihood of VC or NVA sappers coming through the wire was somewhere between slim and non-existent, but for appearance sake, all bunkers were manned between 30 minutes before sundown and 30 minutes after sunrise.

“Something like the 45th Messkit Repair Battalion,” Rick said. Rick and Jake had drawn short straw on bunker assignment, which, in the unusualness of things that made Phu Bat SOP, meant they got first choice. The bunker was dug in almost underneath a big tree that shaded the bunker and ten meters all around. The tree looked like an oak, but it was some other kind, some foreign, Vietnamese tree.

“The 45th, or whatever it was, was at Fort Meyer,” Rick said. He took a Budweiser from the Coleman cooler and the church key that was attached to the handle with a small chain. The wind changed direction, blowing in easy from the bay. The sun was above the western hills, now about 10 minutes from going down. Rick punched two holes in the can.

“Before Pancik got to the 45th, the NCOs and officers pitched in a few dollars each and set up a coffee and donut stand in headquarters building. They made enough money to buy more coffee and donuts, pretty soon started selling sandwiches.” Rick took a short swig, then continued. “Well, with selling sandwiches, they had a good stash of what they call petty cash. All off the books, of course.”

“I’ve heard the terms,” Jake said.

“Sure,” Rick said. “Anyway, when Pancik was assigned there, the sergeant major explained how things worked, and Pancik said he didn’t have any problems with the petty cash fund as long as inspectors didn’t find out, and as long as he could deny he knew it existed. But, our good major is a little greedy.”

“You got that right.”

“Yeah. What he started doing was, he’d stop by the sandwich stand and ask the Spec Four or Pfc. if he could cash a twenty-dollar check. Whoever was running the stand that day would always say, ‘Yes, sir.’ I mean, what else is a Spec Four or Pfc. going to say? Battalion commander asks something like that, you say, ‘Yes, sir.’ Then, Pancik would check his pockets and find out he forgot his check book. ‘Just let me have twenty, and I’ll pay it back tomorrow,’ he’d say.”

“But tomorrow never came.”

“Oh, it did,” Rick said. “But not the way the major figured.” He settled into the story then, grinning. “There was a second lieutenant got assigned to the battalion. A by-the-book second lieutenant. He found out Pancik was taking money, but he -- the lieutenant -- was in the same position as the Spec Four or Pfc. There wasn’t shit he could do.”

“But...”

Rick nodded. “Yeah, there’s a ‘but.’ Seems like this second lieutenant had an older brother, a major in the IG office at the Pentagon.”

“Ah-ha,” Jake said.

“You got it. The lieutenant told his brother, the IG major conducted a surreptitious investigation, off the books. He took the information to his boss, a full-bull colonel. The colonel did some checking around of his own. Course, they couldn’t court-martial the major for stealing twenty dollars five or six times.”

“They could have,” Jake said. “But it wouldn’t look good for the army.”

Rick slapped his knee. “Now you’re thinking like a soldier. The upshot was ...”

“Major Pancik gets transferred here, as executive officer.”

“Riiight,” Rick said, nodding. “And as purchasing officer, with five thousand dollars a month overwrite authorization.” He grinned. “Ain’t the army wonderful?”

(I made up the name Phu Bat, but it turns out there is a town by that name, in North Vietnam, SE of Hanoi. My Phu Bat is north of Nha Trang and home of the 407th Truck Company.)