seeing catastrophe coming, after almost a year of intensive training by our soldiers, a South Vietnamese division supported by helicopters was slaughtered by a tiny force of communist Viet Cong at Ap Bac, forty miles out of Saigon. Next, the Pacific Theatre commander blew into Saigon and declared it a South Vietnamese victory. In Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, President Eisenhower suggested a freer hand for people aiming for peace. He had been saying things like that for a while. With whom had he been talking? The Pope? I fell into an abyss of depression and my cover identity became extremely difficult to maintain. I believed I could never again share a friendship with my classmates, and they would never know how I felt for them. A few times I went out onto the prairie behind Sage Dorm and cried. As I looked out over the prairie, I could sense America stretched out before me in terrible danger. And I could only sit and cry. What a patriot! Early in February, I read a newspaper article which was utterly silly but transformed my entire outlook. An Indian man of God had predicted the end of the world. On the fateful day, his followers, who and sold all their possessions, gathered with him on a hillside to meet their Creator. But the guru had missed it by a few billion years. When his destitute followers realized this, they turned on him, and the women beat him with sticks. A few days later, Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson declared in the papers, “The tide of world affairs is with us.” Right, Lyndon. Ever heard of the Bay of Fundy? Then on March 4, in London, M15 big shot, Kim Philby defected to the Russians. Astounding! Had we confused our vision of destiny with a Laurel and Hardy flick? Were these desperate time so few knew about? When I called Dad, he confirmed that this might in fact be the case. He also told me I had carte blanche if I wanted to do anything about it, but must realize that nobody could be trusted, and that I would be operating entirely alone. Well, it was going to be a long and dreary haul. I might as well get on with it. ***
Principal of Fountain Valley School, Lewis Perry Jr. I went with a plan to the School’s Principal, known to me as “Lew”, my most trusted friend. He agreed with my plan, and it was arranged that I would train a fellow student for a career in music. I knew the Cuban Missile Crisis had in fact very very nearly resulted in a global thermo nuclear war between America and Russia, and the need to educate and impassion the voting public against such potential disasters seemed to me acute. The Student’s name was Robert “Bobby” Hall Weir, the spoiled and corrupt son of a rich family from San Francisco