Here's your O.R.G.Y.

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 Make love, not war! It should be so simple. . . .

 “Twin beds!” the South Vietnamese siren demanded.

 “One bed for all!” the Viet Cong chick countered.

 “Equal space! Equal sheets! Equal status!”

 “King-size and individual pillows!” The man from Hanoi backed-up the Cong cutie.

 “Let’s compromise,” I suggested with good old Yankee common sense. “How about a round bed?”

 “If you think I’m going to share the same mattress with these gangsters—!” The Saigon sexpot was intractable.

 “American-made slut!” the NFL lovely snarled.

 “There is an American Embassy emblem embossed on the pillowcases,” the North Vietnamese officer noticed. “I demand a pillowcase with the symbol of my country!”

 “Why not dispense with pillowcases altogether?” I exercised American diplomacy.

 It was an odd time, it was a peculiar place, it was a bizarre combination—for an orgy! The month was January of 1968, the first night of the first Tet offensive1 . The locale was the cellar of a storehouse containing furniture and bedding in the Saigon American Embassy compound, main objective of the Viet Cong terrorist attack that evening. The characters were a sexy South Vietnamese secretary who worked in the Embassy, a curvy female Cong guerilla, a North Vietnamese officer with a Fu Manchu moustache, and me, Steve Victor. The orgy was my idea.

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