Paul Davis On Crime: My Crime Fiction: 'The City of Bizarre Happenings'

The story below is another chapter from my novel Olongapo, which is about young sailors from the USS Kitty Hawk.

The aircraft carrier periodically left “Yankee Station” in the Gulf of Tonkin off the coast of North Vietnam in 1971 during the Vietnam War and sailed to Subic Bay in the Philippines.

The warship pulled into Subic Bay (called “Septic Bay” by some sailors) for repairs, replenishment of weapons and stores, and to let the pent-up sailors loose on the wild-open town Olongapo, called the “City of Bizarre Happenings.”

The story originally appeared in American Crime Magazine.

City of Bizarre Happenings

By Paul Davis

I recall that some Navy wit called Olongapo the “City of Bizarre Happenings.”

I certainly discovered that to be true as Ingemi, Hunt and I strolled down Magsaysay Drive on a typical Olongapo evening.

We began the evening at a restaurant on the naval base, where we had a fine steak dinner and a glass of red wine. After that hearty meal, we strolled from the on-base restaurant to the gate leading into Olongapo.

Once outside the gate, we crossed the short bridge over “Shit River.” Despite the smell, filth and pollution, several small children were on boats in the shallow river and begged the American sailors crossing the bridge to toss coins in the river. Some sailors tossed coins and the children dove into the polluted water and came up smiling with the coin in hand.

Hunt frowned as we watched the Filipino children dive in. When a sailor near us began to toss in a coin, Hunt grabbed his arm. “Don’t encourage them to jump in that filthy water.” Hunt said sharply. “They’re just poor, dumb kids.”

The sailor saw the enraged look on Hunt’s face and pocked his coin and walked across the bridge into Olongapo. We too walked across the bridge into Olongapo.

We passed numerous street vendors selling sunglasses and assorted items, as well as vendors selling “meat-on-a-stick.” The meat was probably beef or chicken, but some of the older American sailors insisted the mystery meat was monkey, dog, cat or rat. I had to admit that the street vendor’s fried meat, whatever it was, smelled good. But upon the wise counsel of my older shipmates, I passed on eating it.

Further on we saw a crowd of American sailors near a four-foot wall over an opening between two buildings. Also at the wall was a Filipino who held a basket full of noisy, little yellow chicks. The American sailors crowded around the Filipino and peered over the wall. I looked down as well and saw a small crocodile lying in a muddy pond of water.

One of the sailors gathered at the wall bought a chick from the Filipino for a dollar. The sailor tossed the chick into the pond and the crocodile moved forward and grabbed the tiny chick in its jaws. The sight of the crocodile feeding on the chick and the sound of crunching and gobbling was shocking.

Other sailors lined up quickly and bought chicks and began hurling them to the hungry and waiting crocodile. I was taken aback by the scene, but curious, so I watched, like one is compelled to watch the proverbial car wreck.

“That’s fucking sick,” I heard one sailor say.

“But you is watchin’ it, ain’t you?” Another sailor replied.

“Yeah, but still…”

“You eats chicken, don’t ya?” the other sailor asked. “So why can’t the ole croc enjoy hisself a baby chick?”

“Crazy fucking town,” Ingemi said as we walked away.

While further cruising along Magsaysay Drive, we spied a sailor ahead of us react in a panic as he discovered that a teenage pickpocket had lifted his wallet. The pickpocket took off down the crowded street and ran between the people like a football player dodging the defense as he headed towards the goal post.

His good run ended when the young thief ran directly into Hunt, who punched the pickpocket in the chest. The pickpocket crumpled and fell to the street. The sailor rushed over, and thanking Hunt profusely, bent over and retrieved his wallet from the gasping Filipino thief who lay in the street.

“That’s one “dodger” who isn’t so artful,” I said.

Hunt laughed.

The sailor looked at me dumbfounded.

“Dicken’s Artful Dodger from Oliver Twist?” I said, trying to explain the reference. “The London pickpocket?”

He looked away from me and faced Hunt and once again thanked him for stopping the thief. Then he walked away.

“That dope probably thought Oliver Twist is a vodka cocktail with a slice of lemon,” I said to Hunt.

We shook our heads and walked on.

Just another evening stroll on the streets of the City of Bizarre Happenings.

We finally reached the Starlight and Zeny, Marlena and Hunt’s girl Carmelina ran up to us. We all sat at a table where another radioman from our division sat with a girl. The radioman, Anthony “Rock” Hudson, was an amiable but dim 24-year-old from Milwaukee.

Hudson thought he was called Rock because he was as handsome as the movie star Rock Hudson, but in fact the sailors gave him the nickname after a sailor said, “Hudson is as dumb as a rock.”

“Howdy!” Hudson said to us.

“Doody,” I replied, completing the name of the TV character we all grew up on.

“Nah, I aint’ got no duty,” Hudson said. “I got liberty tonight.”

“I like you, Hudson, but you’re a dumb shit,” Hunt said.

Hudson looked perplexed, as he usually did.

“What year was the War of 1812 fought?” Hunt asked Hudson.

“Hell, I don’t know.”

“Who’s buried in Grant’s Tomb?” Hunt asked, suppressing a laugh.

“I don’t give a shit, as long as it ain’t my ass.”

We all laughed.

“Hudson, you’re too dumb for the Viet Cong Navy, let alone the United States Navy,” I said.

“Yeah, Davis,” Hudson replied. “But you’re right here with me, so what does that make you?”

“Point taken.”

We drank Sam Miguel beer and danced with the girls as the fine house band played their renditions of popular songs.

At a table next to us was a big, belligerent, pug ugly and thoroughly drunk sailor who appeared to have a grudge against sailors from the Northern states of America.

In a loud voice that carried over the band’s loud music, the big drunk hurled insults.

“Damn fuckin’ Yankees and colored boys fuckin’ up my Navy,” the drunk said repeatedly.

I was friends with several sailors from the South, and we often insulted each other and the states we hailed from. That was good-natured rivalry, but this Southerner was still bitterly fighting the Civil War.

I was getting tired of hearing this smacked ass, and it must have shown on my face. Hunt tapped my arm to get my attention, and he told me to ignore the drunk.

“Don’t make eye contact with him,” Hunt advised. “He’s drunk and he’s looking for a fight. Don’t let him spoil our night.”

Although I was the youngest of the Kitty sailors at my table, I had the feeling I was going to be the one to take on this drunken giant. I was fast tiring of his repeated insults and taunts. I noticed that the drunk was sitting alone at the table, and he was talking to himself, as his friends and even the bar girl he had been with probably found him to be obnoxious and unruly.

At our table, Hudson took his girl’s hand, and they moved away to avoid a possible confrontation. Perhaps Hudson wasn’t as dumb as we thought.

As Marlena returned to our table from the Ladies’ room, the drunken giant shot up from his chair and grabbed her arm. He pulled her roughly onto the dance floor.

She broke loose from him as Ingemi walked over.

“Back off, buddy,” Ingemi said to the drunk sailor nicely. “She’s with me.”

“Fuck her and you, Yankee,” the drunk slurred as he threw a wild punch at Ingemi and missed.

Ingemi, who never acted or talked like a tough guy - or had to - decked the drunk with a good left hook. The drunken giant went down from the one punch, and he stayed down. Rosalita rushed over and pushed Ingemi back to our table. A waiter ran up to the bar manager and said something in Tagalog.

“Sit down, Dino,” Rosalita said. “The Shore Patrol coming in.”

Ingemi sat down next to Marlena. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and tried to look calm. We all did.

Two Shore Patrol petty officers came in and saw the drunk sailor lying flat on the floor. They looked around as everyone tried to look and act natural.

Suddenly, Marlena leaped up from her chair, wrapped her arms around Ingemi’s neck, and shouted, “Don’t take him! He’s innocent!”

Ingemi shook his head sadly as the Shore Patrol came over, lifted him out of his seat and placed handcuffs on him. Ingemi was escorted out of the Starlight.

The Shore Patrol petty officer took Ingemi’s Navy ID card out of his shirt pocket, and they drove him to the Kitty Hawk. Ingemi stepped out of the jeep, and his handcuffs were removed. The Shore Patrol escorted him up the enlisted brow and handed over his ID to the petty officer at the ship’s quarterdeck.

Without his ID card, Ingemi was unable to return to Olongapo. The Shore Patrol didn’t bother to put Ingemi on report, as being restricted to the base for the rest of the night and denied overnight liberty in Olongapo was punishment enough.

“You can pick up your ID tomorrow morning,” the quarterdeck petty officer told Ingemi.

Ingemi picked up his Navy ID card at the Kitty Hawk quarterdeck the following morning and headed back into Olongapo. He knocked on my hotel room door and told me to get dressed as we were all going to White Rock, a beach resort just outside of Olongapo.

After Zeny and I showered and dressed, we left the room and met Ingemi and Marlena in front of the hotel. The four of us hailed a jeepney. Our first stop was the home Marlena and Zeny shared with their mother. The home was spare but clean and comfortable. The girls put on bathing suits under their clothes and then we all piled back into the jeepney and drove to White Rock.

White Rock was situated by a beautiful tropical beach with white sand and palm trees. A nice breeze from the sea cooled us as we stood on the beach and enjoyed the exotic scenery. Ingemi took photos of me and the girls on the beach under the palm trees, and then we switched places, and I took photos of him and the girls.

White Rock had a large swimming pool and Ingemi and I went into a store at White Rock and bought swim trunks. The four of us enjoyed swimming and frolicking in the pool. Ingemi took a photo of Zeny and Marlena on my shoulders as I stood in the pool, and then I took a similar photo of Ingemi with the girls.

We sat around the pool, happy and dripping wet, and drank San Miguel beer. Zeny, sitting in a deck chair next to me, began giggling as she brought up Linda, another bar girl that I had been with before meeting Zeny, coming to my hotel room and banging on the door.

She mimicked Linda.

"Paul, Paul, open up. I want to talk to you!"

The two girls and Ingemi laughed, and I joined in and laughed as well.

We swam, ate, drank, and laughed all day at the White Rock.

Despite the bizarre happenings we encountered in Olongapo the night before, we had a fine day at this tropical paradise.