Hello everyone,

While hunting for more chapters for another story, I came across this short piece written by Teddi and concerning her AFS volume 01.

I found it to be of interest and hope you will also as it explains just a little of the strange thinking which sometimes goes on in strategic planning.

Renae

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Air Force Sweetheart — TacPzlSolGp

Addendum:

During the Vietnam conflict, women being allowed in battle or even in combat ‘zones’ was still a ‘hotly’ debated subject. The general consensus being that they had no place in an area which could threaten their lives, or cause males to place themselves in additional jeopardy due to their attempts to protect the woman or women involved. For a woman or women to go unaccompanied into hostile zones where bullets might fly was unthinkable despite the use by many countries of women as spies. Those selfsame ‘spies’ went into areas which were, at the time, considered ‘civilized’ and they were mostly considered to be ‘non-combatants’ although they were generally classed as ‘enemy agents’.

During the Korean conflict, women - such as nurses were posted in what came later to be considered rear combat areas but at the time were mostly laughingly thought of as existing ‘behind the lines’ of combat. A ‘sort of’ twilight area where the display of a ‘red cross’ would mean the area was one against which neither side would take active aggression. A ‘neutral territory’ of sorts. There were, in fact, a few times when one side or the other medically treated enemy combatants without restraining them from departing once they had received aid. However these occasions were few and far between.

As for a woman actively engaging in a combat related activity, such as forward action of any kind or actively participating in a shooting venue... well... let us just say it was seriously frowned upon or even denied.

Yes, there were times in both the First and Second World Wars as well as many times previous to those events when women did place themselves into combat roles. Frequently they persisted in those roles and triumphed. Usually such placement was completely voluntary and not happily accepted by the males who found themselves either in the position of sending those women into combat or of accompanying them, not to mention sometimes being subservient to them.

A stealth mission or set of missions of a combat nature which could be successfully partaken only by a woman was anathemas to the males making those combat decisions. For that reason an alternate path needed to be sought. A path which, however strange, could assuage the concerns and the egos of those directing those missions while still offering the possibility of a highly trained feminine individual who was combat oriented as well as capable of gathering intelligence to be used in other actions deep in hostile territory.

Thus came about the need for a small group of individuals who could be trusted to ‘bring home the bacon’ without necessarily finding themselves in ‘hot water’ deep in enemy territory. Suffice to say, those individuals could have proven to be quite useful in future intelligence matters if brought to a ‘careful and proper level of training and appearance’.

Hence, a highly classified and very, very “black,” or at least exceedingly dark grey, set of programs were set up which produced a number of ‘individuals of feminine nature’ who were to go “into harms way in areas where no red-blooded male would care to be, much less even think about if he had any opportunity to gain prior knowledge of the assignment.” Those quotes are not my own, they have been used because this is a direct quote I overheard during one of the “brainstorming” sessions which were the first faint glimmerings of that which produced the programs upon which this story was based.

It does not matter if those programs ever “got fully off the ground”. What does matter is the very idea was considered and at least initially acted upon while my fertile imagination took the “ball” and ran with it producing the first glimmerings of this story in 1966, which later was embellished, expanded and has become that which you have just read.

T. D. Aldoennetti

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Hi everyone.

I’ve included a portion of a map which will show you a portion of the sandbox in which I got to play during my years in SEA.

It all began when I was posted to Saigon and Tá¢n Son Nh’ut in mid 1965, eventually leading to what most would consider to be a very strange series of events which befell me and a number of others in very early 1967. Saigon is not shown on this map because although the stories I wrote began there, they did not occur for the most part in the Southern region of Vietnam.

It was during 1966 that I first began to experience the events which led to the story which was to become Air Force Sweetheart - TacPzlSolGp — or volume one of the story of the development of a very interesting intelligence group which eventually was given it’s own action arm. Later that action arm became more well known than the intelligence group that was it’s parent and which later came to be a support unit to the action arm.

By the end of 1967 there was slightly more than a squad, by 1968 a platoon, who were members of a very ‘elite’ organization not known so much for our fighting skills as for our now new found ability to be chameleons in the intelligence world. We all spoke very passable French as well as Vietnamese which was almost the same thing at the time due to the long period of occupation by the French of that area known as ‘Indo-China’.

Many of us spoke more than three other languages but all of us had at least a listening understanding of Russian and two or three dialects of Chinese; generally the ones most commonly found in Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, and Cambodia. There were four who also spoke several of the Middle Eastern and European languages on top of the others in use.

When we received our surgeries and special orders, we were dispatched to a semi-secret seclusion in Northern Thailand from which we were tasked to secret missions within Northern Vietnam or Laos. Those missions began in late 1967, continued through 1970 and possibly longer although I was no longer in a position to know of them by then having returned, myself, to the United States by early 1970. When I departed SEA, there were only twenty two of us remaining at that base. The attrition of war had claimed the others including two who had been very dear friends of mine by the time they had been killed in the line of duty.

During the period I was actively involved with that unit, we had either captured or killed 89 high ranking officers, or had returned for interrogation a further 160+ officers. These actions occurred in North Vietnam, Laos, and on two occasions in yet a third country to the North of our base.

Also during that time, there were fourteen helicopter extractions which went bad causing the loss of those personnel as they rushed in to bring our team member out of harm’s way. Of those fourteen, we lost eleven of our own during the engagements.

While we began with roughly fifty, we seemed to lose about one a month and received no replacements for them. It would appear that the window within which our experiment had been begun, had been a very narrow one.

During those years, I myself was directly involved in nineteen covert missions, and four support or rescue missions. Also during those years we infiltrated the North, recovered and returned over 200 prisoners taken by the North. Most of those were in very poor shape by the time we got to them. It was a combination of two of those rescue missions that prompted the writing of L. J. Stevens volume one and the rescue of Randolf from the hands of the NVA and Chinese.

One ‘rescue’ still stands out in my mind, not so much because it was difficult, but because it was accidental and nearly caused my demise. On my way back from a particularly difficult operation with more people hunting me than I wanted to think about, I stumbled upon a downed navy pilot who was so thankful to have someone near him who wasn’t trying to kill him that he would not ‘shut up’. I seriously thought about putting a silenced bullet into him but didn’t since that would have betrayed my presence just as much as his jabbering. I managed to convince him to remain silent, or at least as silent as he was capable of being, and we finally made it over the border and into Muong Cham then across another border to Bung Kan and finally to Udon Thani (U.S. named -- Udorn). There, thankfully, I was rid of him before returning to my own little patch of SEA.

When I returned to CONUS I received my new posting which brought me back into contact with the intelligence group I had a small part in developing. Within a year that group which had grown considerably during my absence was given a new shot in arm in the form of the addition of three more such units which were of similar nature but covering other parts of the world. As OIC my duties were long hours and a swift kick in the rear to keep our information flowing. A full colonel with more time in grade than I could ever dream of having was brought on board to be in charge of the action arm of those units and later when I completed my internment at that organisation, he was given full command of the entire unit. I later heard that, since he was more action oriented, that the intelligence portion was made subservient to the action arm rather than the original concept which gave the intelligence group a means of acting on the information they uncovered through the action group.

Many of you are probably still wondering why it was so necessary for a male to have been made to appear female for those missions.

Back at that time in history, women were not thought of as being direct instruments of war. Particularly a woman could go places no man was able to go. Especially if she or he were Caucasians. Add further the disguises we wore which lent some reason to our being where we were and we had great freedom of movement which unless he was Russian, a man would not be allowed. Most especially if he were to be wandering around in Laos, North Vietnam, or possibly even China (although I didn’t see any Russians in China whenever my solitary treks took me there).

Our ‘command’ had several outs at their disposal concerning those of us who were ‘permitted’ our changes at the ‘request’ of command.

1) We were, in the eyes of command, males and not females despite our appearance to the contrary.

2) We were based out of Thailand, not Vietnam.

3) Our missions were usually ‘black’ or very, very dark gray.

4) We were expendable and deniable. Most of us, I later learned, were written off as deceased in various ways and at
many different locations, or we were part of a fictitious unit based in the U.S. (which sometimes caused other problems).

At any rate, our command structure could assign us to hair raising missions without raising any red flags as to the use of women in active wartime actions.

Were we transgendered?

That’s a good question. I was, probably more so than less. Were all of the members of the group, transgendered? That’s a tough question. The answer is, I don’t know. All I do know is that we all received surgeries, very complete and complicated in most cases. We each attempted to present as feminine a face on things as we could, so if some of them weren’t transgendered then they really worked at being female. How many survived the war and went on to other things as women? I don’t know.

The unit still existed when I left it but at that time there were only around twenty still remaining so we had lost over half. I was the first who actually rotated back to the States. I don’t remember who had command after I left. It was either Cindy or Tracy... I think. It’s been a long time and I’ve had a number of other commands since then. I had originally said Linda but then remembered she was a part of a different command and replaced her name with Tracy’s. Isn’t it funny how after thirty or forty years it all begins to run together?

Regrets? Do I have any?

I think it isn’t possible not to have regrets of one kind or another. We are only given the opportunity to follow one path even though we make the choices which decide that path. We do not have the memories of a path other than the one we have followed although we can imagine what that path might have been. For that reason alone I have regrets. Regrets for not being able to travel all paths available to me at one time or another. Regrets at having chosen the path I did. Regrets at having made the choices I did for the personnel I selected which caused some of them to have been in a particular harm’s way which caused either their demise or their capture without chance rescue. Regret for having sent helicopter crews in to pick up someone only to later learn that neither that helicopter or helicopters nor the person they were to pick up ever returned.

Regrets, I have a few.

Family?

Yes, I have a family. It isn’t mine exactly but it is mine non-the-less. There are young nieces and nephews who call me aunt Teddi. Family in several countries in Europe as well as the United States. Children who accept me as I seem to be and have been for so many years. Yes, I have a family.

I also have another family which I didn’t know existed. A family much, much larger than the one which is more directly related to me. This family is all of you. All who would be who they really should have been and all who care enough about each other that much as sisters squabble with one another, you all side together when it comes to someone outside the family who tries to tear even one of us down.

I have lived a long time, written many works both historical and hysterical. I have seen much and I wish you all to know that you are loved despite the travails that the McCarthy’s out there wish to unleash upon you. Ours is likewise a crucible, the place of creation of an amalgam which binds us. We are sisters and brothers in the amalgam of life despite the narrow minds and witch hunts taken by those who fear anything they can’t take the time to understand.

God Bless You All,

Teddi