Boston Boy Goes to War

Chapter 1 Special Forces Lieutenant Jimmie Driscoll had been away from Boston for nearly three years and knew Tassanee Oleson for just a few months. He had fallen for her beauty and talents, so he called her whenever he had leave in Bangkok. This night they had dinner on Sukhumvit Road near the Erawan Hotel. Afterward, he accepted her invitation to spend the night. He marveled at her beauty. The sensual way she moved. The flutter of an eyelash aroused him. After a night of lovemaking, he kissed her. “Morning, princess. Gotta go!” “What’s the hurry?” “Need to fly to Nakorn Panom. Back to work. I’ll be in touch as soon as I get leave.” He showered, dressed quickly, and packed his kit. He’d think of her while at work—on the trail. She would be busy with her new job at the US embassy. There was Chinese blood on her mother’s side. Good business acumen—not sure about her Danish dad. He’s not sure why he met her and fell in love. But so be it. He’s grateful. Tassanee Oleson is an ethnic and geographic novelty. Born of Danish-Taiwanese parents, raised in Bangkok, Thailand, and educated partly in the States, she was a linguist, researcher and scholar. She parlayed a local hire position in the Bangkok CIA office into an adventurous and romantic relationship with Jimmie Driscoll. She was raised by a shipping magnate father and banking executive mother. Her Special Forces lover came from a working-class Boston upbringing. They bonded and overcame obstacles and danger. Her language and people skills were invaluable in probing community sentiment in Thailand’s northeast insurgent area. She had to choose between a budding CIA career, joining her parents’ businesses, or following her heart with the dashing Boston boy. She’s falling in love with the handsome Boston officer. It just happened like her mom and dad. A cross-cultural love affair. He flagged down a taxi to Don Muang Airport. Not the civilian terminal. He wanted the military, classified area. It was 1967 and his ride cost three dollars. He thought of his three warring teammates who had also been on R&R. They meshed well with his low-key leadership. Riley, the machine-gunner and explosives expert. Ortiz, the scrappy Puerto Rican who could flush foe from hole or tunnel. And Schmidt, the senior sergeant and strategist. He wondered what shape they’d be in after several days of drinking and women. Chapter 2 Jimmie Driscoll was raised in West Roxbury, a hardy neighborhood of Boston. He had a rough and tumble upbringing among four siblings: two boys and two girls. He was the eldest. His father, Joe Driscoll, was a Boston cop who had served as an Army ranger in Korea and rose from patrolman to captain. He received a scholarship to Don Bosco High School, where the brothers demanded academic rigor and discipline. He excelled in math and history. JROTC took a good share of his time. He thought about college but didn’t want to burden his dad with the expense. Luckily, an ROTC scholarship came with his UMass acceptance due to grades, sports, and Don Bosco recommendations. The brothers predicted a bright future. His years at UMass passed quickly while the specter of Vietnam loomed. There was no draft yet, but he felt pressure to serve. He asked his dad what to do. “Jimmie, go where your heart and talents lead you.” Simple advice, but cogent and timely. The Army and growing US involvement would take him to Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, and beyond. As the Vietnam War unfolded, the Army prized college grads like Jimmie Driscoll, who excelled in his ROTC classes and field exercises. “He has the makings of a fine officer,” reported his ROTC commander. Finally, in 1965, the Army awarded him his second lieutenant bar at commencement. After a few days with family and his girlfriend, Kathleen, he left for Fort Benning, Georgia and officer training. He enjoyed jump school and excelled at jungle warfare training. Training seemed to last forever. Still no orders to ship out to Nam. He’d been lucky to get his first lieutenant’s bar quickly. He’d done nothing heroic. Simply scored high in leadership, jungle warfare, tactics, jump school, communications, explosives, and Vietnamese language. What happened next? Based on his commander’s recommendation, he was accepted into the Special Forces training Q class and passed with flying colors. It featured advanced airborne, land navigation, and Vietnamese language; he scored high score in the DOD language aptitude test. Airborne included HALO (high altitude-low opening) jumps from 20,000 feet. The formal SF training jacked up his confidence but got him no closer to Vietnam. When he did get his orders, he was eager but nervous. Before deployment, he got a week’s leave. Maybe it was saying goodbye to his girlfriend, Kathleen. Or, seeing so many of his neighborhood buddies, he had a touch of self-doubt. Again, he asked counsel from his dad, the savvy Boston cop and ex-Army ranger.