NEO, and SASless too ... I did get around to writing that story, which should have reached both of you by PM. I had to split it into two parts because it was too long for one PM. You are free to share it around, but I don't think it's really something of general interest to non-Bristow types. It's kind of grim, with no laughs to be had from it, but it does explain why he disappeared the way he did.
I remember one evening when I was on a night-stop in PH and wanted to go listen to jazz at the Presidential. Goldie had some transport so we went together and soon found ourselves with two local ladies who were obviously fond of aviators. (Talk about a small world: Goldie had been in the same outfit I had been in in Vietnam, the 146th Aviation Company, 224th Aviation Battalion, 509th Radio Research Group, Army Security Agency. I could tell you what we did, except that I'd have to kill you afterwards. It was really, really secret, so that we and the bar girls on Tu Do Street were the only ones who knew.)
I digress. So I explained to the ladies that funds were tight and permission from the Ball & Chain was lacking so that I was there for the jazz and very little else, that I could buy one round of drinks for them, but that was all. It was simply easier to let them sit there, and also to buy them a beer. Hey, it was their country!
I have rather hairy arms, and every so often during the recital this dusky dame would pluck a few hairs while saying, "Oyibo!" I guess this was her way of flirting with me, getting my attention. Business must have been slow that night.
She looked sort of like she'd been in a hatchet fight without her hatchet, and also rode hard and put away wet, so that there's not much more to tell, aside from the usual argument at the end about how I was expected to pay for her company and not just her beer. It was a pretty low-key argument by local standards, not even worth the bother of her screaming at me.
On the other hand, I do have a good story about a guy who ended up back at the BRC with the hell-hounds on his trail. He'd had a lover's quarrel on Friday night, down the line, when he had kicked his GF down the stairs, so that now he had this vague feeling on Saturday morning that he might need to leave Nigeria on the next plane out. All I wanted was to sit there and read my Daily Telegraph, when I ended up with a telenovela instead. You guys probably only know of his very sudden disappearance, not of what happened when he got to Lagos.
Any of you who have ever read A Tale of Two Cities must remember Madame Defarge, she who sat there at the foot of the guillotine knitting, knitting .... So, that was me in the lounge of the BRC, just recording what went around.