Born screwed in the USA.
Book 2 of Born Screwed in the USA is at the end. I am in the process of writing Book 2 of my life experiences as a disabled veteran, my wife having lung cancer, and me running for office for the fifth time. Keep an eye out for it. Thank you. This Paper was copyrighted July 2001 with the Library of Congress As I've stated I wrote this book over a several month period. I used parts of it from several years ago of writing, mailed this book via the U.S. Postal System postage prepaid first class to President George W. Bush, Jr. as the end of March/first week of April. I also e-mailed the book to the White House, Attn: President Bush, Justice Department, John Ashcroft and to the Senate office building, Attn: Senator McCain. I have not received any replies in well over 30 days not even acknowledging their receipt of it or that they will look into it. President Bush and John Ashcroft outraged me several evenings ago about the FBI and their honest?? Blunder of forgetting to turn over 3000 pages to defense. President Bush and John Ashcroft got on TV and said especially death row inmates should have 100% fair trials, that it demands that our justice system be honest and forthcoming to defense with all evidence, holding morals and ethics at a very high standard. What a bunch of white-washing they're feeding the American public. How many hundreds/thousands?? Of cases in the last few years has our news media come out with "sorry about that he was innocent but after only ten to twenty years we're going to let him out of jail". And how much has the news media proclaimed prosecutors/lab criminologists as just simply making mistakes, which were accidents and not a normal way of business for them to get convictions? An old proverb my family used to tell me is what all Americans should live by. Don't believe anything you hear and only half of what you see and still question the half that you saw as to whether its the truth or not. Where is God? And morals? I know they're going to answer me. I hereby challenge the President, his cabinet, the Justice Department, INS and the FBI to answer my charges against them of proven corruption. According to our President this should be their first priority. This is my book and I'm going to call it as the front-page notes "Born screwed in the USA". This is the perfect title that could refer to anybody that was born in the cities of America, the rural and desolate areas of Louisiana, Kentucky or the Shenandoah Valley because our government cares more about controlling and ruling the world than giving our poor a decent education, decent health care and decent housing. Our country is not based on a democracy. It’s based on green, i.e., money. At the end of this paper/book I will be discussing what America should do to get back on the right track. But, for in the meanwhile, please enjoy reading the story that I wrote to President George W. Bush, March of 2001, Senator McCain and the justice department. I have not changed one word from here to my signature block so you can read exactly what I wrote to the President of the United States. This is May and I have not received any response. This story is about Howard County, State of Maryland, Immigration & Naturalization Service, FBI and an illegal conviction and what they did to me. I am solely responsible for the entire contents of this letter/book that I will be publishing on the internet free and e-mailing to all the foreign correspondents available on the net. I have documented proof to back up each and every statement I present here. If it is not a statement but a conclusion, I will say so that its in my best possible belief that it happened by a preponderance of the evidence. In 1985 at the time that I was suicidal, I signed everything over to my wife. Since that time, every year, I hand write another paper stating that everything and anything that could be considered mine, I hereby give to her so I am judgment proof. I've also issued several copies of power of attorney giving her the right to sign my name on any title, deed, or document so she would be able to liquidate anything and everything. I'm hoping by the foregoing that I will overturn every single plea bargain/conviction/arrest record of everyone that was prosecuted by any of these police officers, prosecutors and/or judges in any way before, during and after my conviction. I also hope that all of these officials including judges, prosecutors, FBI, the Attorney General's Office in Maryland, police and social workers should have voided their immunity when they conspired to harbor, aid and abet knowing while helping an illegal alien commit fraud against welfare, U.S. Government and American citizens and conspired to railroad me to shut me up. This letter to President Bush/book is barred from any reprints, quotes from or moneymaking opportunities by any American Press without the sole written consent of Mr. Raymond J. Bly. In the past 12 years I have written numerous letters concerning the facts of my case to every local and national TV and newspaper media available from Dateline to the Baltimore Sun Newspaper. I've also written Regan, Bush, Clinton and now Bush's son. Most did not even reply but the ones that did stated it wasn't a story they would be interested in at this time. The fear of them losing their licenses with our censored press is too great for them to take on the government for a pauper. Now they might be interested with hundreds of these cases coming to light and in print nationwide of abuses by officials in the justice system. That's why I'm giving sole rights to this story for profit-making to the foreign press from any country in the world except America for them to show the world that our country is no better than theirs in money buys justice here. If I would have had a million dollars, I too might have gotten a pardon from Clinton. Ha. Ha. As to private individuals who might be interested in downloading this story into their computers to read, I hereby give them permission and I also give them permission to share my story with as many friends as they see fit to. As for the press, they can refer to my home page address only. This paper should take 10,000 pages but I will not include any of my evidence until you ask for it and I will try to summarize most of the key points even though there's numerous minor points that are also critical to the total abuse of me by the justice system and by many officials. I expect you to do the same exact thing as President Clinton, Janet Reno, The governor of Maryland and the Attorney Generals Office of Maryland did because nobody cares about a pauper and how the justice system in America screwed me and sent me a reply letter with your condolences and dismissal of help saying you don't get involved in the matters of justice. I hope and pray this is not the case. To jump way ahead, I know you are highly religious and I must say this now that the more that reverend David Commack, my pastor at Trinity Episcopal Church, got involved trying to help and to tell what he saw firsthand that was going on to the family in my home, the more the justice system wanted to prosecute me. He was in my home or I was in his rectory for 9 out of 10 months of the nightmare, which occurred, in my home and then I saw him daily with my family for the next couple of years. He even got mad that the social workers, prosecutors and judges wouldn't even talk to him or hear what he had to say concerning the entire set of problems. Father Commack was especially trained to deal with families having problems with their Vietnamese relatives in adjusting to America and also had contact with a trained Vietnamese psychiatrist who helped him in dealing with rough cases like mine that the entire justice system didn't want to hear from or allow in. This is a request for pardon or clemency with unique stipulations that I'm seeking. What I want is complete restitution as well as the forced retirement of all officials that were then and are now involved. That both my arrest and both indictments be expunged and stamped "illegally obtained with fraud and perjury by the State". A complete special counsel appointed by the justice department to investigate and prosecute everybody I will be mentioning for aiding and abetting an illegal alien in the commission of felonies against an American citizen, the State of Maryland and the Federal Government. Brief History Oct. 69 - I was in Vietnam Jan. 70 - My soon-to-be wife had a baby girl from rape Apr. 70 - I started the papers on my wife and stepdaughter July 70 - I was shipped home July 4 71 - I went back to Vietnam for my wife Dec. 71 - My wife came here Dec 71- We got letters from our supposed daughter saying she does not want to come here Feb. 85 - My brother-in-law's family and my wife's daughter came here Feb 85 - My wife almost died from a perforated ulcer Dec. 15, 85 - The first time police came to my home Dec. 18, 85 - The second time police came to my house Dec. 22 85- my wife and I go to the police station Jan 2, 86 - We went to a foster care hearing Feb. 86 - We went to a second foster care hearingMar 21, 86 - I was arrestedSept 86 - My first attorney was fired.Sept 1986 - Hired new attorneyOct 1, 86 - Court hearing and jailApr 87 - I went to courtApr 88 - I was sentenced1988 - I started lawsuit against Government.1990 - Had DNA results 1990 - My lawsuit was dismissed 1993 to present - I put my children through college instead of fighting my conviction. I was born in D.C. by a mother who was addicted to sex and having affairs at the time. Most of my childhood my father denied paternity calling me a bastard, which grew old, as I became to look like the spitting image of him. I was born a sick child with every allergy around. I was also born with a tongue that could not reach the roof of my mouth that prevented me from speaking until the 6th grade. I even flunked first grade due to my speech impediment and for nonattendance in school. Most of our neighborhood was black at the time as well as most of my friends were black. By the first grade my dad bought a small home in the uppity neighborhood of Silver Spring, Md. He made good money but not enough to support my mother's spending addiction. I remember her in 1957 spending over $1,000 on me for Christmas and my dad screaming and yelling at her. I also remember in 57/58 that my mom threw my older sister a wedding fit for a princess with hundreds of guests. I also remember in 1957 that tragedy started happening. I was sick constantly from my allergies going to doctors frequently every week and became allergic to penicillin. I had appendicitis and my tonsils removed twice within a 3-year period. I also broke my arms 3 times. I went to speech therapy twice a week at the University of Maryland but clipping underneath my tongue during my second tonsillectomy really helped me the most. I was already too far behind in my schooling to catch up. My father condemned me constantly as a bastard. My mom was a prescription drug addict who laid around getting fatter and fatter screwing with the 3 doctors she went to. I remember my other sister spending weeks every year in the hospital for pneumonia and infected ears. My parents began fighting over finances. My dad only had 80/20 health insurance and the 20% he owed was mounting fast. Then in 1958 my mother had a nervous breakdown from all the fighting, screaming, and creditors calling to such a point that her sister had her committed to Saint Elizabeth's Hospital, which cost my father thousands more dollars. He had always been a workaholic working 24/7/52 but there weren’t enough hours to make any more money to catch up on bills. My mother came back home a new woman after 6 months and my parents made peace. She even got a job and a car. Within a couple months of working and losing weight quickly from all the exercise, she slipped on some ice in front of a People's Drug Store on Georgia Avenue in Silver Spring and broke her back. She was in the hospital for weeks in traction to help her back heal gaining more weight than she had previously lost. The hospital finally sent her home because of medical bills that were unpaid. My dad brought her home, bought a special bed for her and hired round the clock nurses to help her as collection agencies began again hounding them. I began cutting grass, picking up coke bottles and bagging groceries to help them and prove to my dad that I wasn't a worthless bastard. Metropolitan Life Insurance saw my dad with dirty clothes, unshaven and a completely nervous wreck and discovered that he had avoided the annual physical for 15 years and ordered him to have one. My father was a 4/5 pack a day smoker now and his two doctors at Met Life submitted a report saying he only had 6 months to live with cancer throughout his body whereupon Met Life immediately sidelined him from work. My dad had been a dynamite salesman making hundreds of dollars every week selling policies, he also made a hundred dollars extra a week in pay collecting premiums on two separate routes. Met Life told him he couldn't do this any more and put him on 100% disability which paid in 1958 $50.00 a week - not even enough to pay the mortgage on the home. He laid down for almost 5 weeks deathly sick and completely depressed. He was throwing up blood and passing blood in his stools. I was only 9 years old at this time. Creditors banged on our door day and night demanding money. My dad began drinking and became a roaring drunk but for some reason the alcohol cured his illness so that he could now be a raving lunatic. I remember mom yelling while my dad was in one of these rages, grabbing I and my younger brother's hand and taking us out to the car while dad banged on the windows and doors. She went back to the insane asylum. I remember my sister, Kathie, running in our home at my dad who had an ax and was chopping down the door where we were hiding to kill me. My dad blamed me for most of the bills. Soon after this I remember being thrown out onto the street by the court system of America back then with basically only the clothes on my back. My dad bought another car for $25.00 and went to a loan shark called HFC and borrowed $500.00 to rent an apartment in the slums of Silver Spring. He calmed down on his drinking but my mom was totally bed ridden and now weighed well over 400 lbs. In the next few years up until I was 12 we moved 6 or 7 times being thrown out for nonpayment of rent even though I worked my butt off earning as much as I could to help them. My dad drank and smoked it up. At 12 we moved to Beltsville and the workaholic came back in my dad again. I and my brother helped dad build over 200 rowboats to sit in the front yard for sale while I worked at the truck stop next door, cooking, waiting tables, washing dishes and earning about $100.00 a week. My dad by this time really hated my guts blaming me for costing him everything he had lost. The money I gave him to pay rent he used to buy my kid brother anything he wanted and taking him with him everywhere he went showing him to everyone that this was his son. My brother didn't resemble my dad at all but dad still considered me to be the bastard. I got very frustrated coming home to a filthy home full of trash and helping my mother get up to be washed or even just to sit up in bed and fixing her something to eat. I started screaming and yelling at my brother telling him that since he was home most of the time he should be helping around the house and helping mom. My brother was 4 years younger but 3 inches taller and 25 lbs heavier than me. I started forcing him to help clean the house and to take care of mom. My dad started his verbal abuse of me more and more to protect his only son, my kid brother. But I still had the upper hand so my dad took my brother to learn Karate. Within about 2 months of me not knowing that my brother was taking these lessons, he told me to go to hell one day when I demanded he help me get mom up in bed so we could cook her something and feed her. When I came over and confronted him he decked me. I couldn't get a punch in. He was literally beating the hell out of me with dad cheering him on. Then I finally got one lucky knockout cross and knocked him cold on the floor. My dad jumped up and took a swing at me and I decked him too. I was filled with rage, gathered my few items of clothing, announced I was leaving and walked out the door. I hitchhiked to Annapolis where I thought my sister, Margaret, lived and called her. She had moved to Manatee Beach. Her husband came and picked me up. She was 7 years older than me and left before the really bad times began but had an extreme hatred of our parents after her second year of college when they cut her off financially. Within a couple days, she ran to welfare to get medical assistance and funding and to condemn my parents as unfit. For the next 7 months I lived with them. My brother-in-law was very sweet and kind to me. He sat me down day after day and taught me I could learn and make as and B's in school while fighting with my sister that I wasn't her personal slave and to get off her fat ass and get the housework done herself. She usually ended up winning and my brother-in-law would go to the room and hide which made me have to wash dishes and clean the house spotless for hours every day after school. The tension rose until my brother-in-law said, Ray I've taught you a lot. You're an honor student now and can stay one but you're ruining my marriage by being here. Your sister has to learn that she's a housewife not everyone's boss. He called Social Services to please pick me up. My sister told them I was uncontrollable and wild and needed strong discipline. They moved me to Upper Marlboro to work on a tobacco farm. There were 7 boys and 2 girls on the farm. We were gotten up at 4:00 A.M. to milk the cows and strip tobacco until the school bus came at 8:00 A.M. When we got home from school at 4:00, we worked the farm until 8 or 9 at night without even a bathroom break. This man had a horse strap and left many kids black and blue from talking back or looking funny at him. We were his paid slaves. The State paid him to enslave us another words to run a hundred acres of tobacco farms. I was able to sneak letters home through friends at school asking my folks to help me get out of there. They requested the court to allow me to come back home. They were now living in a small basement apartment in Rockville and my brother had become very ill and nobody knew why. My sister, Margaret, showed up as a prosecution's witness in an effort to keep me on this farm but the court saw fit to send me back home. The doctor bills started back up again because of my brother, Charlie, until the Holy Cross Hospital diagnosed him with Hodgkin’s disease. His skin already had an unnatural appearance to it. Thank God to the doctors there who got him into NIH, which was free for my parents as a guinea pig. For the next 2 years they spent millions of dollars trying new drugs on my brother until every organ and most of his skin was rotten with cancer and he was in excruciating pain. He finally died at the age of 12. I started running with gangs and robbing stores at night after they closed to make money. It was a very lucrative business because the gang had the son of an alarm expert and another son of a locksmith. Another member and me were the brains of it that staked it out and found the most ideal times to rob them. We never got caught. At 16 I quit school as I was flunking out anyway for truancy, etc. I'd had this girlfriend since the first grade named Susan Taylor. I wasn't her boyfriend but just a friend in her eyes. I worshipped the ground she walked on and by the age of 17 she convinced me to turn my life around and go to job Corps. I promised her I would leave my life of crime behind me and turn my life around to God. In Job Corps I worked very hard even though my life was constantly being threatened. This was 1967/68 Breckinridge Job Corps Center, which were 99% ghetto gangbanging blacks who only went there to escape jail. The little bit of money we were paid I was constantly being robbed of. A lot of good blacks became my friends and as a group we protected each other. There was almost 1400 of us in the job corps center and 1200 were blacks and 800 were very bad blacks. I accepted Christ as my savior and started living 100% Christian. After passing my GED test and being in advanced electronics, you can't guess the nightmare that was waiting for me. Martin Luther King was shot by a white man. If you think the inner city riots were bad, you had best look at the inside of this job corps center. Half my black friends as well as hundreds of others began rioting and burning the place down. They broke into every housing area and dragged all the white kids out and beat them up. I know I would have been dead if not for a couple of my black friends who came into the crowd and pulled me out to safety and carried me into town 5 miles away and dropped me off at my church for sanctuary. My minister got me medical care and the whole Kentucky town of Morgantown got armed. Most of the members of my church had their shotguns at the edge of town where the job corps center was located to protect their homes and businesses. All night I heard police and ambulances along with National Guard units going into the center and coming out of it. The next day with 100+ people from the center hospitalized, my church bought me a bus ticket home and went to the center to get me my mustering out pay. The job corps center was basically closing down and the Greyhound bus I was on, thank God, I was seated on the front of it because all the nice blacks and whites that were heading home that were in the back were being robbed of their mustering out money. We stopped in Indianapolis to change busses and several more people in the front of the bus went to the bathroom with me. The bad gangs followed us in and pulled knives demanding our money. I managed to escape and went outside and called the police. 20+ people who had been robbed pointed the thieves out and the police said they couldn't do anything because they were already on a bus to leave and we would need you all to stay here as witnesses and show up in court and fill out complaints. They said to just forget the money and take the next bus which we all did. I got home and got a high-paying job with RCA in 1968. Within a few months, I got a draft notice saying Uncle Sam needs you and you are required to come. Having allergies against wool, cotton, eggs, etc and a curvature of the spine, I figured I would get out of the draft notice. No such luck so I tried soul survivor of my family name in a 300 plus years present in America. My grandfather had 4 boys and my father was the only one to have sons. My father had 3 sons, one died at 6 months and one died at 12 years of age from cancer. I was the only one left to carry on the family name. Again no dice. Coming from a destitute family where everything my dad had built up and worked for had been taken from him and he had been thrown into poverty and extreme debt when I was only 9 years old due to overwhelming medical expenses in the family, I didn't want to go into the military but stay and help my family survive which I had done since I was 9 years old starting with odd jobs to make money so we couldn't get evicted again for non-payment of rent which happened numerous times. I didn't tell you about the numerous miscarriages my mother had experienced or the death of another sibling (a sister) from polio when she was 10 years old. My remaining sister, Kathie, who is typing this letter was 14 years older than me and wasn't involved very much in my childhood beyond what she could do. Since I found I couldn't avoid the draft I went to what I thought was an honest recruiter who told me that with my year of electronics training on TVs, radios, and appliances and my almost one year with RCA as an electronics technician and more schooling and experience with me by them, that I could join with a guarantee of being an electronics specialist in the military so I signed on the dotted line for 3 years. After basic, they sent me to what was supposed to be electronics training in Fort Dix, New Jersey. It was infantry field wiring. You weren't even allowed to hook up the wires to field phones but just hang them between 100-foot tall trees and/or poles. Having a fear of heights, I said I'd be damned if I was going to climb 100 foot tall poles by using 2 nails sticking out my shoes and asked where was my electronics training to work on electronics? They threatened to court martial me if I didn't climb the poles. I refused. They said I could be a truck driver, a cook, or face a court martial and to take my pick. I picked truck driving. I broke the obstacle course record by over 30% in time. Then we were asked if we wanted to go to Germany, Korea or Vietnam. I picked Germany and demanded not to go to Vietnam as the only heir to my family name in America. I received my orders for Vietnam. Looking back, ten people in our company of 500 trainees had picked Vietnam. All 10 were deemed too insane to go to Vietnam because they wanted to go to Vietnam and were sent to Germany. I arrived in Vietnam in October of 69 in Saigon. They trained us in combat and explosives for a period of 2/3 weeks before they had a unit assigned to us to report to which ended up being the best damn unit in the military - the big red one, the 1st Infantry Division, U.S. Army. There was no prejudice, no drugs and extreme camaraderie between the soldiers and watching each other's backs. They told me there were no trucks available for me to drive and until there was I would have to pull KP duty and not to complain because you don't really want to get out there with explosives and being shot at constantly which can blow you up. By the second day of KP, while rushing during lunch break, I turned around too fast and bumped into a very tiny Vietnamese lady who made us both drop the dishes we had in our hands. We both bent over to pick them up and made eye contact. It was like I'd known her many lifetimes and for some weird reason being raised somewhat prejudiced by a dad that grew up in Virginia, I did something unbelievable. On the way up from kneeling I kissed her which shocked everybody in the mess hall including the majors, colonels and captains who had tried to hit on her with no success. I didn't even notice she was pregnant until later that day. What the hell was I doing kissing a little squatty, pregnant Vietnamese woman? that was probably married. That night I went to sleep and had one dream after another of past life memories that I had shared with her. I woke up many times slapping myself saying what the hell's going on in my mind? There's no such thing as past lives but I was so head over heels about this woman and felt just being near her that I had known her forever. She was my best friend, my partner, part of me was how it felt. The next day I sat down and asked her if she would leave her husband for me because I wanted to marry her? She immediately said, "Yes" and then said "No". I told her I'd had these dreams of many lifetimes together and she said she had too. She said she'd had the same feelings I had upon seeing me for the first time of totally feeling at ease with me and being the best of friends and had been together forever but she didn't know a damn thing about me. How could this be that we both seemed to know everything about each other but yet knew nothing of this present life of each other? Through November and December we sat and talked for hours and I found out she had been raped at her father's farmhouse while there overnight to collect the sharecropper's money who had rented land from her father. She had been raped by Vietnamese soldiers. She doesn't know which side. She said she was only raped by one and she believes he was an officer. You see she was a virgin up to then. In January she took off of work to have a beautiful daughter. Meanwhile back in November of 69, I witnessed the U.S. Army trying to break a truck that was deemed totally unlucky because on the bumper it was stamped A 313 thirteen front wards and backwards and had broken down every time sniper fire had come in its direction. It was an old Korean truck over a decade old that was very well built so even with 20,000+ lbs in the back of it and running it into a 6 foot ditch to try to break the frame, they could not. I begged the Commander to please let me have that truck and I would rebuild it to be the best truck in the unit to find some obstacles of military red tape. There was dozens of trucks in a yard headed to Tokyo for rebuilding which were not allowed to be touched. My truck needed dozens of parts to get it back to drivable good condition and there were none available. So I begged and begged the junkyard Sergeant to please let me take parts off the trucks to rebuild mine and I would replace part for part exactly. They agreed. After I got the motor running perfectly the bed and cap all redone, I found flat pieces of steel half inch thick that I had welded to the doors, behind the seat and on the floorboards because I was determined not to die. I was the only truck with armor plating another words. I also didn't want a slow governed speed truck but a hot rod but I didn't know what to change on a diesel to modify it. My cousin Dick Souder was in the 1st Marine in DaNang and knew diesel mechanics. He arranged to visit me for a day by chopper. He took off the governor, ported out the jets and modified some other parts I don't know. My truck was a damn hot rod that easily went 100 miles per hour if I wanted. It had 3 times the power of any other deuce and a half in our unit. Now for the paint job. The truck had badly deteriorated due to age in a humid climate and looked like Hell so I asked what paint they had available. They told me the only colors available was OD green, black and white. Well I had fun with my truck. It was very unique and when I showed it to my CO, he threatened to court martial me over the job while laughing, but I told him to come back about a thousand feet from the truck and look at it with the tropical background behind the truck. At first he couldn't even see the truck. He says that was very good camouflaging and allowed me to keep it that way. In fact, he loved my truck but he said it was totally against every military rule and regulation they had in the military but he was putting me in for an Army Accommodation Medal and an E-4. For the next several months I put 23,000 miles on that truck without a single breakdown and, in fact, during sniper fire pushed other trucks that had broken down out of the range of enemy fire. Not really because I wanted to but they were blocking the only paths on the road. When you're loaded with explosives you tend to get obstacles out of the way fast and I was constantly shot at by snipers and the trails were heavily mined at night to try to blow up our trucks. I basically stayed in a constant prayer for my life with my truck filled with bullet holes and seeing other truck's wheels being blown off. I was always volunteered to take reinforcement troops to local firefights at night due to my outstanding night vision. We had to drive within 100 yards of the enemy and the firefight to drop off a truckload of 20 to 30 troops while under fire. Thank God I only had to do this a few times before the first pulled out. I was put up for more Army accommodation medals and put up for E5 in 1970. During this period of time I also started all the military and immigration paperwork I could to bring my new wife and daughter home to America with me. Then orders came down to the first to close down and go back to America in April of 1970 so I asked to be transferred to a unit close by to continue the paperwork but my commanders saw fit to have me transferred away as far as possible to Chu Lai which was 100+ miles north in the America Division. While in Chu Lai they had no trucks so I talked my way into repairing radios and navigation and code sending units for aircraft. I was the best electronics worker they had who did a lot of illegal things. The commander of Avionics North said he didn't want to know how I had fixed 100 radios or code readers without any supply parts. You see these radios and code readers had medal steel boxes in them that were not allowed to be opened for repair for security reasons. I opened them and fixed them and then re-closed them and put them back in to get dozens of helicopters and planes back into the air. I constantly had to pull guard duty less than a half mile from the base of a large mountain where I saw many firefights and explosions. Every night we got rockets attacking us with the enemy trying to hit our ammo and fuel depots or our aircraft but their rockets were about as reliable as a scud missile in accuracy. I remember one night I was woken hearing the whole bunker line setting off explosions and rapid shooting. For a whole hour we ran around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to find the guy with the key to the arms room. It sounded like WWIII at the top of the bunker lines. To find only one M1 Carbine in the Arms room. So for the next 5 minutes we found the guy with the Ammo Locker Key where we found 2 bayonets. There was 150 of us in this company between this little hill that blocked our view of the enemy and a third of a mile from the China Sea and the CO yelled for us to have a meeting. He said he should tell us to go up and fight in hand to hand combat since we had no weapons or you can follow me to the beach and be ready to swim. We went to the beach and began walking down the beachfront where other companies of men were forming with no weapons as well. Thank God we weren't having a Tet Offensive of 68 again because thousands of us had absolutely no weapons at all because they had confiscated them almost a year prior due to people being high on drugs or alcohol shooting each other. This was totally ridiculous. I was terrified to find that it was only a couple of sappers who had been trying to infiltrate our bunker line to blow up the ammo dump. For 3 hours of gunfire up there left these few soldiers in literally numerous toothpick size pieces. They had been blown up and shot repeatedly. For 6 months I cried and wrote letters to my wife. We were not married at the time but in my heart we were. I tried transferring back down to no avail. I even extended my tour for 6 months whereupon I was told they would transfer me back down near my wife when I returned from my 30 days of leave. All my friends and my parents and the military kept asking me in letters why I wanted to marry a slanty eyed prostitute? While home on leave my friends got me over 60 dates and I put over 10,000 miles on my dad's car partying that whole 30 days trying to forget about my wife. My friends even got me girls that were sex addicts that would jump into bed with literally anybody. I was still a virgin and used to be a horny teenager who never got any but now I didn't care about it. All I could think of was this Vietnamese woman that I loved. I was sick as a dog with double pneumonia as I hadn't slept for almost the entire 30 days partying around the clock when I got on an Eastern Flight heading for Seattle Washington/Air force Base/Army Base to head back to Vietnam. I finally got some sleep and was rudely awakened by an officer yelling at me, where in the hell had I been? I had missed my flight 5 minutes ago and that I had 5 minutes to get on the next plane which was a Pan Am heading for Alaska/Vietnam. We landed in Alaska for fuel when the captain told us on the speaker that the flight that had taken off that I had missed that took a different route via Hawaii had crashed and there were no survivors out of almost 400 troops on the plane. This didn't bother me. My life was this way anyhow. I arrived in Saigon Vietnam whereupon I was put on one of the big old fat prop airplanes to go back up to Chu Lai. There was about 30 of us on it at the time. It had two little jet engines for quick takeoffs on short runways thank God. As we were approaching the mountain tops, one engine caught fire we could see out the window. The pilot turned around and said for us not to worry that he would just turn it off and continue flying with one engine. We still had 75 miles to go when all of sudden the second engine began sputtering badly and we began loosing altitude. We saw bullet holes hitting the bottom of the plane as we were flying very low. The second engine died and the pilot announced we were going down but we do have a quick choice. I might be able to land in that little tiny clearing the midst of the jungle or would you rather land in the ocean? Panic was finally starting to set in on me now. I had a high fever and was sweating and throwing up while fighting off diarrhea and yelled at the pilot asking if there were anything else we could do? He said well let me try one more thing but I only have 2 minutes of fuel for the jet engines. He started both engines and hit the start buttons on the prop engines as we got up to 500ft from the jet engines and low and behold the prop engines both started and sounded beautiful. We landed in Chu Lai and I called the Company Chief to come pick me up and drive me back to my barracks. He showed up in about 10 minutes and we started heading back. I was very ill and said I wanted to stop at sick call to get some antibiotics. We pulled in and there was over 50 people waiting for medical services. He told me it would be a several hours’ wait to see a doctor so I told him to forget it and take me back to the hooch. In 10 minutes we were back and I started to get out of the jeep when somebody yelled incoming. Rockets were exploding everywhere. The Company Commander came over and said sickbay had been hit and asked for volunteers to help the dozens of wounded and dead. He took a look at me and said, you're too sick. Go and get some rest. I went in and got my pillow and blanket and went to an underground bunker to sleep on the floor. Before I went to sleep I prayed for forgiveness for the 30 days at home when I had forgotten God's word and to please not let me die. For the next 30 days I slept in that bunker to find out the first couple of days that they had reneged. I wrote a letter to Senator J. Glenn Bell from Maryland who was someone who really gave a damn about military personnel who single-handedly got me transferred back down to the same exact base I had originally been assigned to which was called Di-An. Two weeks later after the reunion with my wife, the base was turned over to the Vietnamese and that unit was pulled out and my wife was laid off. I'd never been to her actual home but I knew her address. I wrote to J. Glenn Bell again to stop my orders of heading back up Northward and to please keep me local. He got me assigned to a nearby base called Long Binh. I was in charge of Vietnamese people in the refrigeration area for food storage at night. I found a man, a Vietnamese man, that asked my wife to come to the base to visit me. I met her and my commanding officer through J. Glenn Bell gave me permission to let her on base to visit me. I want to state at this time we still had not had any kind of relationship and I'm not being a Clintonite, I mean NO sexual relationship whatsoever beyond kissing and holding hands. My wife, quite naturally, feared men at that time due to her rape and I didn't really care about sex even though every girlfriend I'd ever had before it had been on my mind constantly. When it would happen, it would happen. Just being close to her was all I needed to feel the warmth and the love between us. After a month at Long Binh I found a way to escape. Since I worked from 10:00 PM to 6:00 A.M. I had the whole day free and nothing could scare me like Long Binh did even facing the enemy. I was constantly robbed by drug addicts, beat on by black panthers, and criticized and cursed by the White Power Movement. Every time we got a new officer for the company who tried to clean things up, he would end up very hurt or dead. I had a 45 MP gun that I bought for $50.00 in Saigon for protection. I had grown up in the ghettos and had belonged to a gang so I wasn't too scared. I snuck out to my wife's house in military clothes with my 45 under my shirt, which was on a dead end road in enemy territory. I was shot at quite often the first week or two although I used ordinary taxi service. Thank God the first taxi man was honest and took me to the address I gave him. My wife was terrified saying that I was in an unsecured area and half of her neighbors were enemy VC. I showed her my gun under my shirt and she freaked out. She ran out immediately bought me Vietnamese civilian clothes and made me change. She told me that most of the Viet Cong were friends of the family and some of her siblings were also Viet Cong but to never bring the gun again that she would protect me. If I brought a gun it showed I was ready for violence and would be attacked. She told me the minute I rolled down the hill by the road in front of Long Binh I'd better be in civilian clothes by the time I reached the bottom of the 20 foot hill. I complied and my wife's brother gave me free rides to her house when he was available there. He was a taxi driver but I only caught about 5 rides with him. Her other brother which is the one who came to America in 1985 gave me a ride on his Honda back to the road in front of the gate where I would change back to my military clothes in the brush there and walk up and go into the gate. There was so much traffic that the MPs never knew if I'd gotten off a military vehicle or not. I went AWOL every day for the next 6 months. My wife's younger brother gave me and my wife rides all over town to do the paperwork to bring my wife here. We had a lot of help from my wife's younger sister's husband who was the mayor of a nearby town. He was able to swing a lot of the paperwork without having to pay bribes. I asked my wife again to please marry me. She said yes and in March of 1971 we went to the Buddhist temple and got married and put on rings. Within a couple of days we made love. The whole time I took food, wood, etc. to her home to help keep their shack standing and to help feed her family. I even bought diapers for her baby daughter and helped change and feed her and she slept in our bed, which is common in Vietnam. At the end of my tour in Vietnam, she was calling me Daddy and speaking several words of English. I was speaking a good deal of Vietnamese by then as my wife's relatives didn't speak any English. My wife was fairly fluent in English and had worked for our military for nearly 5 years as a manager of the Vietnamese in our Mess Hall. I went to Saigon on more than 4 dozen occasions to do the necessary paperwork at the U.S. Embassy and the Vietnamese State Department to obtain all the papers necessary to bring my wife and our daughter here. The American Embassy never bothered to ask me why I was in Vietnamese civilian clothes and whether I had a pass to come to Saigon or not which was supposedly required. Every time I turned around the Vietnamese officials wanted bribes to do anything. The U.S. Army ran me around in circles telling me I needed signatures from everybody and anybody from JAG to counseling from the minister to get their approval. This was a nightmare they knew nobody could complete to discourage inter-racial marriages. Yes, most Vietnamese women who married Americans were prostitutes. Yes most Vietnamese woman only married GIs to get a free ride to America. This is all I heard were questions why I was marrying a prostitute with an illegal child. I fought and I fought and so did the distinguished honorable J. Glenn Bell for me. He even got me a delayed departure for 2 weeks to finish the paperwork and got me a legal pass from my commanding officer to Saigon the last day of my stay in Vietnam which was a joke - this pass. For the first time, going to Saigon we didn't have to outrun Mps chasing us with sirens blaring and trying to arrest me for being AWOL. My brother-in-law was a hotrod Honda driver who could outrun them every time. But now I had a pass and I told him to just stop because everything was O.K. now. There was no such thing as a pass to Saigon in the Mps handbook because it was too full of enemy soldiers so they arrested me, threw me in a jail cell 12 X 12 with no bathroom accessories with 20+ drunk or drugged Gis who were throwing up and lying in human waste on the floor for 8 hours until they could verify I had a legal pass to Saigon to do the paperwork for my wife. It was too late by the time I was released to do anything official. I was not even able to say goodbye to my wife as she was on a second Honda her sister was driving to escort me to finish the papers. The next morning I was physically escorted by Mps to a Pan Am flight coming to America against my will. I was crying and upset by this. I had a family for the first time in my life and a beautiful daughter and my wife was now pregnant the doctor told her with twin boys of mine. The Army could care less. She was 4 months along. The minute I got back to America with eyes almost swollen shut, I telegrammed my CO at Long Binh to tell the guards at the gate to tell my wife that I had been shipped home and would return to get her and our daughter if God was willing. The CO wrote me back stating that she had shown up at the gate the day I had been forcibly removed from Vietnam and told I wasn't there anymore and was in America and she had broken down crying and pleading to help her go with me because she was my wife. She asked how she could employ herself having one daughter and twins on the way? The American response was to call the Vietnamese military Mps to ridicule and cuss her physically with threats of imprisonment if she didn't leave and never return. The stupid Army assigned me to the honor guard since I had such distinguished military service in Vietnam to Fort Myers, VA. The trouble is you had to be E-6. I was still E-4 even though I was put up for E5 by the 1st Infantry and 5 other units I served with. I never stayed there long enough to actually go in front of the E-5 board to get it and I didn't really care about E-5. I wanted my wife. The honor guard required being 5'8", with at least 2 years remaining in the service. I had ten months left in the Service was E-4 and 5'6" tall. They said they couldn't accept me so I went to Fort Meade just 2 miles from my parents trailer to find over 30 slots that they were waiting to be filled by transportation specialists, i.e. truck drivers. We submitted papers to the pentagon asking that I be re-assigned to Fort Meade. Of course the military always does things the hard way. They sent me to Fort Belvoir, Va. some 50 miles away. At Fort Belvior they made me a chauffeur of officers mainly high-ranking. They learned that if they had to get somewhere fast no matter where it was, I was the perfect man for the job. I picked them up at the Pentagon, took them around the Beltway took them up the B/W Parkway through the old roads up to Aberdeen Proving Grounds. A lot of times they told me they only had one hour which meant that I had to sustain between 90 and 100 mph on the trip. They said not to worry with the one star on the front fender the police wouldn't stop us because it was national security. Sometimes I hit speeds in excess of 130 mph in those old Chevy Impalas. I was never stopped and they always praised at how good and safe a driver I was and they had no fear riding with me at any speed. While stationed at Fort Belvior from July of 71, I tried to get help to get back to Vietnam or to get my wife here legally. I had hundreds of pages of documents with me to prove how America prevented GIs from inter-marrying and how the Vietnamese Governmental Officials from the door man to the boss all wanted bribes to let you pass let alone do paperwork. My sister, Kathie, had just moved back into the area from Australia and was well known in the Washington metropolitan area as a beauty queen, secretary at the department of defense, and a top flight singer at the Blue Room at the Sheridan Park Hotel. She even knew Wolfman Jack personally from her radio show on WWDC and arranged for me to have a one-hour talk with him which went into 2 hours concerning my problems in getting my wife here. For an hour we discussed how the U.S. Army and the U.S. State Department had purposefully made all kinds of ridiculous demands on GIs and set time limits on these requests of 90 days as a packet that was so unreasonable that nobody could complete it. Wolfman was so disgusted that he cancelled 2nd and 3rd hour interviews because of the numerous phone calls coming in concerning me. Not much was actually accomplished except a few dozen people did send in checks for various amounts to help me return to Vietnam to get my wife only totaling about $100.00. In America I was making $74.00 a month plus $20.00 for living off-base allowance. I had already purchased fully paid one way tickets for my wife and daughter in June so all I had to worry about was a $1700.00 round trip air fare for myself which was not allowed. American Airlines, i.e., Pan Am could not take civilians who were not connected with the news media, defense department to Vietnam period. All travel was restricted to this war zone. After 2 weeks my sister had another brainstorm. She had an ex boyfriend who worked at the Washington Post where she had a column and asked him if he would cover my story in the paper? He agreed because this would be another story proving how corrupt the Vietnamese puppet government we had set up was. This was his main objective with reading back my story from the newspaper that I have copies of. It was a large article with pictures of me in military uniform and my wife and daughter. He did make a couple minor statements in this article of my plight against the military to get permission to get married. Within several days of this hitting the Washington Post and being shipped around the world where they even had to reprint thousands more copies due to requests, I started having daily chauffeur runs from Andrews Air Force Base, Aberdeen Proving Grounds, Fort Belvior of the high-ranking generals which I didn't realize at the time were all the commanding officers were called in to the Pentagon for almost 30 days of what to do to shut up the military strike. You see after this article was published literally worldwide many thousands of other GIs wrote letters to their hometown newspapers of their problems in trying to marry , French, Germans, English, etc. which these newspapers were covering. I was causing an uproar in the military. Congress passed a law they called a K-Visa to help solve the plight of many American serviceman in their efforts to get married to foreign nationals. It made it so easy that I still have a guilty conscience of screwing thousands of co-comrades in the military. Prostitutes all over the world were cohabiting with GIs around the world to get a free ride here by marrying them. The Embassy had to guarantee a visa to visit America if a GI asked for his wife or fiancé. The military didn't have to know about it. The GI had to buy a round-trip ticket. Upon their arrival in America if the GI married her within 14 days, she got a green card to allow her to remain indefinitely. It made it too easy where GIs didn't have time to think and be separated from the women who had hooked onto them. In this month of meetings at the Pentagon by all the services division leaders, I drove my General many times to the pentagon. I had top security clearance. I had to have top security clearance because of conversations in my back seat during these trips with officers. Some of these discussions made me really open my eyes about America. It made what I heard on the news about "The Evil Empire" i.e., the Soviet Union with a halo over its head. Their slant on world affairs and how to remedy situations if the general public knew would have caused a revolution in this country. They were in complete control of everybody, etc. As I was driving this one-star general, he knew my name was Bly and requested me in person but he never related me to the guy on Wolfman Jack's program or the large article in the Washington Post. He and his senior officers in the back seat would joke about hanging me up by my balls on some deserted island till I died. This wasn't as cruel as some of their remarks got. These top brass intellectuals could have looked into my mirrors and seen who they were talking about any time but, of course, they didn't. You talk about getting paranoid with what I had heard about what America had done to countries around the world and what they were going to do to me. I was terrified. Finally after these 30 days, I got nosy. Since I could go anywhere in the Pentagon and I knew where these high-ranking officers were having their meetings in General Westmoreland's office, I listened at the door as they were yelling and asking where this Bly was stationed and how dare he do this. Then, all of a sudden a file clerk came running past and gave them a sheet of paper. General Westmoreland, we found out he's at Ft. Belvior. The dumb idiots hadn't read the articles or listened to the news broadcasts which said where I was stationed. I was apparently hiding in plain sight. You talk about getting paranoid, General Westmoreland yelled at my base commander to locate me. He came bursting out the door and hollered come on driver and asked me if I happened to know a Spec 4 soldier named Raymond J. Bly. I immediately went to attention with a salute saying I am Spec 4 Raymond J. Bly Sir. He grabbed my arm whipped me around the corner and told me, Raymond please don't tell General Westmoreland anything I said in the backseat about you. I only have a month to retirement. Will you promise not to tell anything? Still frozen in the salute attention mode, while shaking like a tornado, I said all I want is my wife and children. You see, Jim Vance of NBC News 4 Washington had read the article in the Washington Post, contacted the reporter and got my sister's phone number to do an interview at her home for an hour show on me which we had already taped two weeks prior. Somehow the military - found out my one-hour interview was supposed to air the next day, November 1st, 1971, All Saints Day. I was immediately escorted into General Westmoreland's office. I could barely walk from fear and staying at attention. He kept telling me at ease, relax, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help you get your wife. He said I see you have 30 days leave coming, how about if I up it to 90 days leave to get you some extra money and with you in the military we cannot let you return to Vietnam to get your wife but we can guarantee you a passport by tomorrow morning and a round-trip open-ended visa to travel at my leisure to go to Vietnam to get my wife. He asked if this was acceptable to me? I asked if I would still get all my military benefits and he assured me I would. The 3 months was only $600.00 which wasn't even half of the necessary funds I needed for the round trip airfare but I took it and was ordered into the General's Office at 6:00 A.M. to pick up my discharge, passport, visa and mustering out pay. How in the hell from 5:00 pm in the evening to 6:00 A.M. did they have passports, visas, and severance pay and discharge papers all arranged? It was not an honorable discharge. They listed it as a hardship discharge with fancy codes at the bottom which I didn't understand at the time. Within the next 2 weeks I borrowed money from every relative who had at least $5.00 or $10.00 to spare but that only came to a total of $300.00. This still put me far short of what I needed to make the trip. I begged and pleaded with my mom who just several weeks prior had finally won her social security claim for disability and had $1500.00 in my Dads account. My mom loaned me a thousand while my dad screamed at her to stop helping this son-of-a-bitch turncoat from marrying some slanty-eyed bitch/prostitute with an illegitimate child. To say he was prejudiced would be an understatement. My dad assured me when I got back to America with her not to show up because I was no longer his son as if I had ever been. I left for Vietnam with the State Department and the military warning me that since I was a civilian going to a war zone they would not be in any shape to protect me whatsoever and that I could not even sleep or enter a military post there. That I was 100% on my own there. I know they were thinking and praying that the enemy would kill me but they didn't know I knew the roads to run around in Vietnam wearing Vietnamese clothes I had saved and since I was small and wore sunglasses they couldn't tell I was an American except by looking at my skin which was suntanned. When I got there I grabbed a taxi and told them I wanted to go to my wife's town and showed him the safest route to take. This was after all the MPs at the airport checked my I.D. and my visa many times over shaking their heads as to how in the world I got my visa to Vietnam but let me go. I showed up at my wife's house, got out of the taxi where my father-in-law was working in a small garden by the side of the house. This was the middle of November and I had been gone almost 5 months. I walked up to give him a hug hello and he cocked his head and rolled his eyes as if to say, who in the hell are you? Then he starts yelling, grabs me and immediately turned around yelling and screaming into the house. My wife and her entire family raced out to hug me with tears everywhere as we all loved each other. My wife's younger brother again started taking us to Saigon to do what we thought was needed to finish the paperwork. The Washington Post must have sold a thousand copies to the Vietnamese Government alone because they all had a copy of it on their counters. They all seemed to have the paperwork already done but before they would hand it to me they yelled at us that we might not got out of Vietnam alive with this horrible article and that I better be very, very careful because accidents do happen. I met the same outrageous conduct at the U.S. Embassy from the clerks all the way up to the Ambassador who threatened me outright calling my article a pack of lies and yelling how could I do such a demeaning thing to my country in the eyes of the world? They hoped I got what I deserved as my just rewards. I must have really stirred up a hornet's nest and not known how far-reaching that article would stretch. But they handed me the paperwork for my wife and daughter so we went to the airport near Saigon to book our travel home to America. My wife's ticket had cost me nearly $700.00 in June and my daughter's ticket was nearly $400. They stated the tickets were no longer valid due to several recent price changes and my wife's ticket would now be $1150.00 which meant I had to turn in my daughter's ticket plus $50.00. I went back to my wife's house and cried because I wasn't going to do that. My wife showed my father-in-law that everything was done on both my wife and daughter to accompany me. He started in a rampage stating the daughter couldn't come. We had no house, no job, no money and that he had heard that illegitimate children would be thrown away in America. America had distributed a lot of propaganda in Vietnam saying we sold wives and daughters into prostitution. He loved his granddaughter and she was not going to accompany us at that time, period. The father is the supreme authority in Vietnam. With promises from him that when we were set up in America, he would allow my wife's daughter to come to America. This was after a long argument concerning allowing even my wife to come with me to America. I promised him that his daughter would always have a home and food to eat for the rest of her life and I meant it and he knew it and finally consented to allow her to leave while the entire family was in tears. We had to go back down to Saigon and remove the daughter from all the papers and then went to Pan Am, cashed in her ticket, and had Pan Am wire my mom to take $60.00 to the local airport to cover the telegram and the remaining cost of the ticket. We came home with five whole cents to America not even enough money to phone my parents to pick us up. Luckily Eastern Airlines at BWI allowed me to make a phone call on their phone free to call to see if my dad would pick us up instead of us walking 15 miles. My mom had been fighting with my dad so much to give my wife a chance that he had finally shut up by then and came to the airport and picked us up. Within 2 days of my wife acting normal which meant cleaning up for your elders, being obedient, waiting on them hand and foot, washing them and their dishes and clothes and house, they started screaming and yelling at me thinking I was making her do all this work and demanded I tell her to sit down and not to worry which she would not do because it was against her custom. My sister ran out to a local church she attended and had the chaplain agree to marry us free on December 13th, 1971. By January 2nd, we both had jobs and to make a long story short, we paid back everybody, moved out and rented an apartment, helped my family out and sent money to Vietnam to help support my wife's daughter. Since we didn't make very much money, I tried to re-enlist in the military. The recruiter didn't understand the code at the bottom of my DD214 so he called the Pentagon. They said if we were in World War III and I was the last man alive in America, I couldn't re-enlist for any reason whatsoever. He asked me what the hell I had done? While in Vietnam, I started having outbreaks of acne after the first year there which I had never had before. Within months of being home I continued to have severe acne on my face and all over my body. My body has since cleared up somewhat but the fact is that my body remains pockmarked and blemished with new frequent outbreaks of acne. Did I forget to mention I used to drive right through sprayings of Agent Orange and even shipped it on my truck and helped to spray it on bunker lines to keep down the vegetation? Within a few years of being home, I started having terrible toothaches. The dentist told me almost all my teeth had no roots due to decay from within. My teeth still looked perfect though and my gums were fine. Within 15 years due to terrible pain and falling apart teeth I eventually had to have them all pulled.