In October of 1966, Private First Class William Jirsa of the US Army Signal Corps was in Bangkok, Thailand. Three and a half years later, he would become Bill Jirsa Senior with the arrival of his first son, me, the second Bill Jirsa. I’m a junior. But in 1966, he was the only Bill Jirsa, and for about another year, he was Private Jirsa working in Thailand to help the cause against the North Vietnamese. He had been married to Annalee Stockton Jirsa, my mother, for just under a year when he was drafted. That October, he was away from his usual duties at the US Air Force Base in Khorat to fit the Grand Palace with communications equipment for a special visit from President Lyndon Johnson.

Beside the fact that we learn the LBJ and Lady Bird slept separately, I like reading the following letter from my father to my mother for a lot of reasons. I easily recognize my dad in it; the spare but descriptive sentences and the clipped cadence–marked here by a bit more youthful enthusiasm–are still a halmark of his writing. It gives me a glimpse of him at twenty four, a soldier in a faraway, strange land, uncomfortable, but coping with his work the best way his sense of duty and sense of humor would allow. It also comes with the sense that I’m evesdropping on my parents relationship in a far more intimate time–before we were a family, before I was around, and I can feel the stress of them being so far apart for reaons that neither of them chose.

Now that I’m traveling in Thailand, this letter is also an artifact in the trail of evidence that I have as a tourist, the son of a soldier, visiting the place a generation later.

1966 Oct 26 Bangkok

Well things are hectic and busy as ever. Am working 6 to two am now. The shift is ok. The day shift would be terrible. All kinds of brass, etc. In this air conditioned hotel, its no problem sleeping and nobody bothers me.

Just got back from sick call. It seems as though I have infectious diaherria. Nothing bad yet, just some cramps, but the doc gave me a bunch of pills that will help keep me from having serious problems.

I’m tired of Bangkok. I can’t wait to get back up North. These guys from Viet Nam even want to go back there. And you know what I miss? Would you believe? The mess hall. A couple of guys and I were discussing that last night. We actually miss the mess hall and Army chow.

Inside the inner wall of the palace is the original king’s palace and original Buddha shrines. Also, there is the present king’s palace and a building known as the guest house. (Actually, the Borom Phiman Mansion) The President and his party are staying in the guest house. Right across a little street is where we are. We look out the window and can see his bedroom. By the way, LBJ and Ladybird sleep – in different bedrooms. How do I know; Well I’m a member of the Presidential Party, aren’t I? Anyway, we had to install phones in their bedrooms. Of course that was one of the days that I had my camera but no flash attachments. Was I upset? Not too much!

You should see it. It reminds me a lot of the Hearst Castle. In the halls they had stands made of 5 foot elephant tusks with oriental gongs about 3 feet in diameter hanging between them. The bedrooms were highly ornamental with gold leaf and red velvet. The beds were huge four posters. It was fantastic. Everyone had to take their shoes and boots off when they go upstairs.

The President gets here tomorrow. The hotel and radio site is crawling with secret service people, security guards, etc. I wanna go home. It’s a madhouse. Getting unbearable.

We moved from the Capital Hotel to another hotel; very expensive, no money, borrowed $25 from my Sgt. I will try to call you. The phones are all tied up from this Presidential thing. But I had planned to call after he leaves anyway. There is talk now that they’ll leave us here for 3 days after our jobs are over, some R&R I guess.

My dad, reflecting on his youthful self, has told me that he didn’t think he had a sense of what his work was contributing to the war at the time. He felt that the real war was up north, where the combat was. Now, of course, he’s read about it, and when he applies the same strategic mind that can rattle off the battles of WWII to his war, he says he feels proud to understand his supporting role in the Vietnam conflict. But if there is any doubt the 24 year old Bill was proud of his work, just look at the blue ball point pen on the newspaper clipping above that reads, “This is our tower.”

Here he is in an email from him this month dcescribing how to find where he worked as I was arriving here in Thailand: “Look left center at bottom of picture, the row of flat white roofs that extend diagonally away from the bottom of the picture, between the palace and the grey roof at the lower left of the picture. The first white roofed building at the bottom of the picture is where I put the communications equipment for Pres Johnsons visit. He stayed in the grey roofed building, actually the Borom Phiman Mansion.”

My mother has told me she would have gone to Canada if she were the one to be drafted. I seldom get them to talk together about the years he was in the service. I’m more like my mom. I think we tend to see these sorts of things more on a personal level. But my dad has always had clear judgment and stong convictions when it comes to things like moral obligations. He’s told me he never felt a moment of deliberation about whether he would go to war back then. So I get to interview them separately about it.

I have the luxury of visiting Thailand as a tourist. My visit is all about my personal gratification, cultural stimulation and sense of adventure. I took a course in Thai cooking, hiked out to the Hill Tribes of the Highlands, and I’ve sampled the wild life (from a safe distance, of course) in Bangkok. My father’s visit to Thailand forty years ago seems much more solemn and confined by his cause for being here. Still, in his recent email, my Dad went on to describe the image of him working on communications equipment, the one at the top of this posting. Is it just me or can we sense Bill Jirsa Senior in 2006 winking at himself in 1966?

“The next picture is me stringing wire in that very building as part of the set up. It wasn’t specifically my job, but I ended up doing most of the work, cause all the other guys went kind of crazy in BKK and sometimes didn’t show up for work. Of course, I, the ever straight and true Pvt Jirsa, was ever dependable, reliable, yeh, yeh, yeh……”