Now listen pilots, unto me, and I'll tell you of my song,
When I left the shores of old Nha Trang and landed at Saigon.
As I walked down Flower Street, a fair maid I did meet,
She asked me please to see her home, she lived on Tu Do Street.
And it's hello, Chu Yen, my dear Chu Yen
Oh, you Saigon girls, can't you dance the polka?
Many songs of the pilots of the 20th century became known outside the
aviator's ranks through the public media. The British government
released bowdlerized versions of songs like "Bless 'Em All" for radio
play, "Stand to Your Glasses" was featured in aviation movies of the
'30s, and similar songs were used in the glut of aviation movies in the
post-war era.
Such publicity is lacking for the songs the pilots sang
during the Vietnam War. Moviemakers trying to evoke this
era invariably choose pop and rock songs—especially the protest
songs—of the 1960s. This war seems to have what one author terms
"A rock-and-roll soundtrack," with the songs sung by those who actually
served (with the notable exception of "The Ballad of the Green Berets")
being missing in action.
Pilot songs aren't solo pieces; they're intended to be sung in company
with the aviators one flies with. But technology
progression in the later half of the 20th century was marked by advent
of low-cost personal music devices. Those "in country" during the
Vietnam War could buy small transistor radios for a couple of dollars,
or a small cassette player/recorder for a dollar or so more. With
the click of an earplug jack, anyone could have their own private
soundtrack. Did this bring about the demise of the aviator song?
Not hardly! Young men doing dangerous jobs still met in their
pilot lounges after the day's flying was done. They still
entertained themselves with songs about inept pilots, dangerous
missions, those who had gone before them, and the idiots assumed to be
running rampant in higher headquarters. In addition to the Air
Force, there were thousands of Army helicopter pilots, keeping the old
traditions alive and building their own. Even better, many of the
songmakers have taken to the Internet to discuss their songs and market
CDs. Vietnam-era music is one of the most-available types.
The types of songs they sang were like the ones of earlier wars.
Some were directly from those other conflicts, often with new lyrics
reflecting their own situations.
Others put new lyrics to pop and rock songs of the day. "Going Downtown" was the euphemism for bombing heavily-defended Hanoi, and of course a modified version of the Petula Clark song wasn't far behind:
The last category—well, let's just call it, "Old Standards." Take
our leadoff song, "Chu Yen," for example. It follows the story of
a pilot on R&R in Saigon who gets involved with a young woman and
ends up hung-over and robbed.
The tale—and for that matter, the song—isn't unique to the Vietnam
era. A hundred years earlier, the woebegone pilot's
great-great-grandfather was sailing in clipper ships, singing the
chorus as...
"Saigon Girls" is only a slight reworking of the traditional sea
chantey, "New York Girls"...same music, same story.
In a sense, that's rather comforting. Nineteenth-century sailors
and airmen in Vietnam faced death every day, under poor living
conditions and in isolation with their loved ones. It's not
surprising that the same sorts of themes pop up in the music they sang
together. Despite what the war protesters said about them, the
pilots of Vietnam were no different from earlier generations of young
men at sea or sent to war.
The clipper sailor learned his lesson, with "New York
Girls" ending, "Don't ever fool around with gals—you're safer off Cape
Horn!" "Chu Yen" ends similarly, but with a fond thought of home
Questions? Email Ron Wanttaja .