A Batcat PET Experience

From an e-mail to me as such:

Subject:  Re: Batcat - Unexploded Bomb?
From:     Larry Westin <westin@tdstelme.net>
Date:     Tue, 31 May 2005 08:54:30 -0400
To:       gatesvillebill@earthlink.net

Bill Herridge wrote:

Larry--

I was part of the Project English Teacher (PET) program for the 13 months I
was assigned to Korat RTAFB, October 1968 to November, 1969.  I did an
extra month there because they forgot to order my replacement and I lost my
port call, and it took me a month to get another one, but that's another
story.

I taught at Rongrean Sipchet (School 17) or more commonly called Muang
School in the neighborhood.  Part of the deal was to see if there was
something those of us teaching English in this program could do for the
school where we taught.  I was asked to help dig a new well for the school,
as the old one was getting infiltrated with klong water.

I was running a shovel and a couple of Thai soldiers were working with pick
axes.  I stepped on the shovel at about five feet down and hit something
metallic.  We all started poking and kept hitting this metal thing.  At
first we thought it was a water main or something, but we soon determined
that it was a metal bomb.  We stopped digging and called EOD at the base. 
They came and dug the thing out and took it somewhere in the bush and
exploded it.  It was still live after 24 years.  They confirmed it was an
American bomb.

Here's the funny part of all this.  There is a local rancher here who was a
bombardier on B-25's who led raids on the railroad marshalling yards at
Korat and on the Bridge at Kanchanaburi (River Qwai).  He self-published a
book about his exploits, which I bought and read with interest.  In one
passage he laments that on the Korat raid, he had a malfunction in his
toggle switch and his bombs didn't drop on the rail yard.  Since he was in
the lead bomber, everyone behind was waiting to drop their bombs on his
release.

He kept fiddling with the switch and suddenly it worked, and he dropped his
load right in the middle of town.  He wrote that he carried a large amount
of guilt to this very day because innocent civilians were killed because of
him.  I immediately called him and told him I had read in his book about
the Korat raid.  Yes, he said, that was a sad day in his life and he still
felt terrible about it.

I told him I found one of his bombs in 1968 right next to a school
building.   I also told him that the Thais believe in reincarnation, and
that while death is seen as a loss, it does not hold the same amount of
dread as it does for most of us.  I told him that they believe that to die
innocently like that would guarantee a return in a favorable form, like a
bird or butterfly.  I could hear him sobbing on the phone, and he told me
that a huge weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

In 1994 he was invited by the Thai government to attend a 50-year
observance of the bombing of the bridge at Kanchanaburi.  He was allowed to
cut a few small pieces off of what is left of the bridge.  He brought them
home, and donated one piece to our local museum where it is displayed with
his bombardier's wings.  He also gave me a piece. 

During the ceremony, he mentioned to one of his Thai minders about the
accidental bombing in Korat.  He said he had always wanted to go back and
give the city a personal apology.  One thing led to another and a car and
driver were made available for him and he was told that there would be a
reception the next day at Korat for him if he wished to go.  Go he did, and
he said he was given what could have been a hero's welcome--big crowd and
all the local government leaders on hand.  He went to the microphone, he
says, and told them how sorry he was to have bombed their beautiful city. 
He said the applause was deafening.  It must have been a wonderful moment
for the old warrior--wish I could have been there.

Anyway, back to the PET program.  I taught what amounted to 4th grade,
which, I was told, was the last year of mandantory school attendance.  When
I started, I was lectured by the headmaster of the school, a female Thai
Army major, and told I was not to speak of religion, and I was not to make
Thailand to appear inferior to America.  She said all I was to do was to
try to teach them to speak a little English, but not to expect too much
because all but two or three would drop out of school at the end of the
year.

During the time I taught there, I tried to impress on those children that
they did not have to become samlor drivers or bar girls.  I told them that
if they stayed in school and learned to speak English well, they could go
to Bangkok and work for embassies or banks.  I hammered that home to them
every chance I got.  I spent a lot of time getting them to pronounce "R"
words, like "camera" instead of "camela."  I'm proud to say that every one
of them, all 32, went on to 5th grade next year.

I was in contact a few months ago with the Korat Region military commander,
who graciously searched for some of my former students.
He found two--one of them a surgeon in Bangkok and the other an officer
under his command at the air base.  All these years, and while watching my
own two children grow up, I've often wondered about those beautiful little
children and how they made out in life.  The man who serves under the Group
Captain told him he remembered vividly getting to ride out to the American
side of the base and being served hamburgers and ice cream in the chow
hall, then getting to sit in the cockpit of an F-105.  I worked on pulling
that field trip off for several months before finally getting approval.

You may recall the little uniforms the school kids wore, white shirts with
their name and school name embroidered over the pockets, and blue trousers
or shorts for the boys and blue skirts for the girls.  Everyone wore a
white Jungle Jim hat during the summer.  Well, I wanted to try to let my
kids know I was one of them, so I had a school shirt sewn up by Chai Style
Tailor, had my name spelled in Thai phoenetically on one side and Rongrean
Sipchet on the other side.  The first day I wore that shirt you would have
thought I was John Wayne.  It was a big, big hit with the kids.  Got a lot
of laughs as I walked from the bus stop to my school, having to pass
through the market area.  But word started getting around, and on
subsequent walks to school, all the people started giving me the wai and
calling me "Ahjahn" which is Thai for teacher.  Even happend on base--Thai
employees and all the housegirls in my barracks started calling me Ahjahn. 
I still have that shirt, by the way, but I'm afraid to say that Texas water
has shrunk it severely :-) .

I was there when we made the first moon landing.  I had no idea how big a
deal things like that were in third world countries.  The first day I
walked to class after the actual landing, everyone was yelling "Numbah One
America" as I walked through the market.  When I walked into my classroom,
I got a standing ovation, like I had something to do with it.  Every kid in
there jumped to their feet except for one little girl in the back.  I asked
my Thai counterpart why she appeared to be angry.  He said her name in Thai
means Unreachable Moon, and now her good name had been sullied, in her
eyes.  She soon got over it, even laughed a little over the next few weeks.

Then there was the big talent show that the school had right before the end
of the school year.  There was a goofy kids TV show from the States called
The Banana Splits that was the rage there.  My class asked me to help them
dress up like Banana Splits characters.  I convinced them that they would
be better if they dressed up like Red Indians--I reasoned secretly that it
would be much easier to put them in loin cloths and put some red grease
paint on their faces and stick a feather in their hair than to try to come
up with an elephant costume.  They liked the idea, and they asked me to
teach them a Red Indian song to sing on stage.

Now, this was right in the middle of the Folksong Era, and every young
swain worth his salt could play guitar and sing some folk songs.  I didn't
know any Red Indian songs but I did know Hava Nagila, so I taught the kids
to come dancing out on stage, arms folded in front of their chest, all
decked out in war paint and feathers, singing a Jewish folksong.  I was
very proud of my Kosher savages, and the audience just went nuts.  It was
huge, huge fun.

I could go on forever with my memories of those kids and that beat-up old
school.  I have many photos of the school and of me in the classroom.  I'll
be glad to scan some of them for you if you like, just let me know.  And, I
also have about 25 Batcat patches left of the big order I had to buy last
year just to get one for myself.

Post Script:

Before I forget, the River Kwai bombardier is LTC (Ret) Bill Henderson.  He 
stayed in the Air Force and flew some missions on B-52's out of Guam before 
he retired.  Heck of a nice guy and a pretty interesting book he wrote.  He 
runs a cattle ranch here in Coryell County, Texas.

Best regards,

Bill Herridge
Gatesville, Texas
Nav-Aids Shop, 553rd EMS
Korat RTAFB 1968-1969