The problem of prostitutes and Secret Service agents in Colombia reminds me of a poem:
The Little Red School House
It is not good for the G.I.’s health
To talk to the co below.
While the G.I. writhes, the co connives
And asks, “Where does your unit go?”
At the end of the fight is our G.I. stunned white
As he prays for his buddies’ salvation.
Then he says with a sigh, “A fool am I!
I told her my unit’s location.
Co = unmarried woman; used as a title, like “Miss”
Co Cong = female Viet Cong members
The danger today is that prostitutes will learn security secrets from the Secret Service agents.
The poem above was shared with me by Sam Heffner, a fellow Vietnam War veteran, in his review of my first novel, Cologne No. 10 For Men, which Heffner said “exudes realism that only someone who was there can appreciate and evaluate. Indeed, when Mr. Minh ordered Can to ‘rent your body to the Americans… to find out for me where C company will go,’ [p. 118] it reminded me of the little card I handed out to the G.I.’s who fixed my jeep or whom as hitchhikers I taxied to town (from their airbase to Phan Thiet). On the card I had printed a little poem I entitled, ‘The Little Red School House.’”
Writer’s Digest calls Cologne No. 10 For Men “A superb novel of the Vietnam war… The writing crackles with authenticity.”