Haircuts

About this time of year in 1967, I was busy settling in on my new job with the U.S Government. All around me, freedom fighters were getting ready for the Tet Offensive, a little over a month away. They were ready to die by the thousands. I was concentrating on staying alive for another 11 months. Goals are important.

I’d gotten a little shaggy upon arrival at the new assignment, so the gendarmes sent me to the base barber shop for a haircut by one of the “guest workers” there. I think maybe there were three or so barbers therein, all Vietnamese locals. It had to be a real military haircut, complete with shaving around the neck with a straight razor. Appearances are important.

I visited the shop a couple of more times before the end of January. Then all hell broke loose. During the Tet Offensive, the base was closed to local nationals, and no one had time for haircuts anyway. After the Tet Offensive, none of the barbers returned. The story went around that they had all been freedom fighters. For some reason, I think about this every time I shave. Memories are important.

Steady there. Steady. I'm from the
government. Come to help.