An Excerpt from "An Unusual Memoir"

by Ken Roy

In 1982, in Torrance California, every afternoon when leaving work I would pass by and admire a great looking Opel GT parked in front of a neighbor’s house. This car had a beautiful lacquered metallic shade of royal purple paint job, an absolutely exquisite eye catching color for any car.

What was my attraction? It was the absolute spitting image of a mini-corvette and the paint job made it truly irresistible. I was always awed by small sports cars and this was a honey. As fate would have it, one day I noticed a “For Sale” sign in its window. Now I really perked up. Maybe I could afford this beauty so I stopped and knocked on the front door of the house where it was parked.

The guy who answered the door was truly a sight. Well over six-feet tall and solidly built. In what seemed to be a bad attitude, he was unshaven with a bunch of tattoos and a short military haircut. No doubt, he was a pretty tough dude and I was having second thoughts about being there. Splitting real fast was not an option and seeing I was there I blurted out.

“That Opel for sale, Mister?”

“What’s the sign say?” he answered sarcastically.

“Yeh, pretty dumb question…sorry,” I meekly replied. “How’s it run?”

“Damn fine.

“How much?”

“$2500.” he snapped.

I said I was very interested and suggested we take it for a spin. Surprisingly, he agreed and away we went with me driving. Right away he started a conversation about how he hated to part with the car but needed the cash. He told me the paint job was done in a custom hotrod shop in North Hollywood and he paid dearly.

I was wondering if he was getting second thoughts on the price so I quickly changed the subject to how the car was peppy and fun to drive. We looped around a few blocks and roared down the 405 before returning to his house. By this time we had chatted about several things and much to my relief, it seemed he was not the psychotic nutcase I initially envisioned. When we pulled into his driveway he suggested I join him in his house for a beer while he retrieved the Opel’s paperwork.

It wasn’t long before my original suspicions of “nutcase” were aroused again. The house was a real eyesore. Early depression furnishings included a busted chair and half painted table. Numerous military artifacts and partially eaten food, the standard pizza and chicken pieces, scattered here and there. I even noticed a Nazi swastika on the wall that appeared to be splattered with some sort of foreign matter. In a minute or so he returned with the paperwork and handed me a beer. It was Old Milwaukee. This was a real downer, totally “panther” on my beer list, but I drank it quickly and kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t about to spring anything negative on this guy. When leaving, I noticed a military style camouflaged ambulance sitting in his back yard. This was curious to me so I asked about it. Surprisingly, he was eager to tell me that it was used in war games training. This got my attention real fast as the following exchange ensued.

“Thanks for the brew, by the way.” I stammered. “War Games? Where these games at?”

“Up in the Sierra high desert, preparing for a rescue operation in Laos-Cambodia.”

“You joshing me?” I gasped.

“Nope, a group of vets with Bo Gritz.”

Well, needless to say this development floored me. I was somewhat aware of who Bo Gritz was as he had hit the news big time in recent weeks (see footnote). What I knew about war games in the Sierra was pretty minimal but I was aware these things were going on. Previous business visits to China Lake (high desert), which is the site of the US Navy air weapons test development center, gave me a small view into this world.

Everyone I met there was very intelligent and fun loving, but a little too much military, redneck, and with a knack for mayhem that left me feeling uncomfortable. The “high desert” was a very different world than the one I lived in. I could only imagine what the Gritz games involved.

Several days later when my check cleared I went to pickup my “new” toy car. The conversation went something like this.

“Sure am going to miss this car.

“I’ll treat her like a baby,“ I said. He laughed…

“Maybe let you borrow it back someday,“ I laughed….

“By the way, how‘s it going with the Gritz games?”

“Things are smoothing out and we’ll be ready soon.”

“Best of luck with the operation,” I offered.

At that point I changed the conversation and was on my way out the door, when he turned and said to me.

“Hey, any chance you’re interested in getting involved with us?”

“No thanks,” I choked, being averse to my life ending in a Southeast Asian rice paddy; this caper had no appeal whatsoever. Often thought of this and wondered if I would take the adventure if offered again…. same answer, No thanks.

I quickly jumped in my new Opel and headed out.

I noticed that the ambulance was gone a few weeks later. I never did see him again, however, occasional POW/MIA news piqued my curiosity about the issue. There was never a raid into Laos or Cambodia to the best of my knowledge. On the other hand, Colonel Gritz made the news for several years.

My little toy car was a true joy for a couple of years and I buzzed all over California in it. As time passed it needed work and I was thinking of moving back East where the winter weather would surely have killed it quickly. I reluctantly decided to sell it. The Opel GT saga had continued in a much-subdued fashion…until I put it up for sale and that’s another story.

Footnote: Bo Gritz is the quasi-famous and controversial Lt. Colonel Bo Gritz (retired) who was a highly decorated US Army veteran and a Special Forces commander in Vietnam. After retirement he became active in the search for POW/MIAs in Southeast Asia. He purportedly undertook several self-financed trips to SE Asia in this effort while living in Southern California. This got him seriously crossways with the Reagan administration and his efforts came to naught. (See Wikipedia, Bo Gritz)