Chapter Six: Winding Down and Coming Home

Very early the next morning we were rudely awakened by a torrential downpour. Huge drops of water splattered through the roof of our hut and mosquito netting that hung over our cots. The rest of the sleepless night was spent in semi-dampness. At first light we could see that the water had funneled back into the well refilling it three feet deep. The rainy season had started; the men were again somber and disgruntled. The Garimpos had diamond and gold-grubbed for over 20 years and were now no longer interested. We had dug 20 different places for the diamond gravel inside our well, the size of two football fields. We must have sensed the end was near. Dick shaved off his beard and I removed my mustache. Officially, as of 1 November we gave up working the Isle de Cocoa diamond well. Calling it quits conjured mixed feelings, the diamond yield was nil, we felt despondent and a deep disappointment for not having been more successful. But deep down Dick and I anxiously looked forward to civilization, returning to the States and a more normal life. More unknown challenges, frustrations and set backs lay ahead before our passports would be stamped by U.S. Customs.

It would take two boat trips to get all our pumps and equipment back to Araguatines where we would store them for some indeterminate future use. Since Dick made the first trip the last time we decided I would go first this time. Anxious to get going, it did not take long to collect and stow all the gear we could get into the boat. When I reached Araguatins I would then send the boat back to pick up Dick and the rest of the men and equipment. We were flat broke but keenly aware we needed to square our original accounts with the men totaling $850. I was to go on to Belem as soon as possible, get Larry to send some money, and then forward it to Araguatins where Dick would wait and turn it over to Duval to pay the men.

The return trip downstream promised to be tricky as the rains had lifted the Rio Araguaia into a roiling torrent. The boat loaded to the gunnels, six of us shoved off and headed down river, quickly encountering the small falls. I was more than apprehensive as no one except me knew how to swim. The swift currents pushed and pitched the boat involuntarily from side to side as the boatman tried to navigate the descending wall of torrent water. The boat rolled hard again causing water to pour in over the gunnels, tossing us around; adding to our panic and instability. Lacking life jackets, the non-swimmers clambered about, grabbing for the canopy stanchions, trying to keep from being swept overboard. Our situation became decisively more perilous when the outboard motor then quit. Unable to run faster than the current, we almost capsized, creating even more anxious adrenalin-pumping moments. There was no emergency assistance in this area; we were on our own. Fortunately with the boatman’s skill and a bit of good luck we remained upright but full of water.

The terrifying moments passed and we suddenly became jubilant having survived the ordeal. I was particularly elated not having to jump overboard to save someone much less myself in this turbulent section of the river. We beached the boat, bailed out the water and re-stowed the gear before motoring on until dark. In this moonless night, unable to see a hand in front of your face, we had to pull in just short of Araguatins. One of our men, Adio, was acutely ill with malaria and needed medical help urgently. Our only hope was that the village Pharmacia would be able to assist.

At 04:00 the next morning we were underway for the last hour of this final journey but were delayed another hour when the propeller shear pin broke off. Finally we pulled into the Araguatins beach at 06:45 and immediately took Adio off to the pharmacy. We stowed the gear at Duval’s house and then I purchased a ticket, a noon flight, for Belem. I picked up Dick’s mail and then sent the boat back to camp to pick up Dick and the rest of the men and equipment. For a couple of hours Araguatins felt like a thriving metropolis compared to our jungle hamlet. With my tattered personal gear and two broken warranted pumps I boarded the noon flight to Belem, shocked that they were on schedule and would take my pumps for 44 NCr. After an uneventful flight to Belem I took the pumps directly to Dirk Werk’s for storage until I could get them to the Importadora for evaluation. Checking into the Hotel Central I then wired Larry to send money, “Urgent. Require Last 2,000 USD Immediately. Repeat Immediately. If Sent, Confirm Hotel Central. Mike.”

I then went to the Guadalupe Hospital to start medical tests, specifically blood test for elephantiasis and any other parasites I might have picked up. Left undetected, swelling could occur after several years but could be prevented if diagnosed early. I found my weight was 141 lbs. Following a late dinner with Dirk and his girl friend I went back to the hotel and collapsed. For the next several days I ate steak and eggs every meal to replace much of the protein that was absent in the weevil-eaten beans.

3 November, I had many tasks that had to get done before Dick joined me in Belem, but first I bought Time magazine, had a haircut, a shoeshine, another hot shower and then had my beard shaved off. Getting cleaned up after all this time in the jungle was indescribable. I hardly recognized myself and felt like a different person not knowing quite how to act. Now I needed to get the money from Larry and send it ASAP to Dick to pay the men. I began working the bureaucratic issues so Dick and I could depart for home: medicals, exit visas, air reservations, mail, military and consulate check-ins, pump warrantees, money for the men and bank account closures. I had very little money and became once again indebted to Dirk’s kindness. Money yet to arrive was needed to pay for the hotel room, so for the next seven days I existed on very little. Larry’s response came, “Will wire 2,000 USD tomorrow….. Hope all is well. Larry.”

When the boat returned to get Dick the rainy season was in full swing and he was more than ready to get moving. Having no money, he fortuitously stowed several turtles along with the remaining gear into our boat. He and the rest of the men had to stop for the evening in a small hamlet where he found a bed for the night. The next morning unable to pay for his room Dick settled the bill with three of the turtles he had stashed in the boat. They arrived in Araguatins without incident but found Adio unfortunately in a coma. Dick anxiously awaited the money I was to send him to settle our accounts and checked in on Adio’s condition.

In Belem I was frantically running around pushing on Brazilian red tape with absolutely no results from dawn to dusk. It appeared to be more difficult to leave Brazil than it was to enter. We needed three certified documents: military approval, police check and an income tax inquiry, plus an exit visa. I found out that I had to identify a local Brazilian to take responsibility to pay income tax on money we made if we didn’t pay the taxes ourselves. What a system, who were they kidding!? From what I could see, most of the local folks I met didn’t pay taxes. There seemed to be so much red tape that many resorted to forgery rather than fight the system.

It took me three days to get one of the certificates and have it notarized. I made airline reservations to return to the States in what I thought would provide more than enough time to settle all the paperwork obstacles. The pumps were sent for repair with the promise to send them wherever we needed them. I did not believe a word of their assurances but at this point really didn’t care. I sent mail and magazines to Dick who was becoming impatient for the money that had not yet arrived to settle the workers’ back wages and head to Belem. In the evenings I tried to relax, went to a movie and sometimes had dinner with Dirk. In the northern area of Brazil they change to winter time or ‘official time’, their version of day-light savings. Only the airlines and movie theaters go by official time and everyone else ignores it.

I met a guy named Al Trinck, from Sao Paulo, who was in the meat business and spoke fair English, so I was happy to glom onto him for a couple of outings. We went to the military club near an old fort on the Amazon River delta for lunch, and a soccer game at a local stadium.

With no money in sight and sensing Dick’s anxiety, I sent Larry another telegram, “Received no money. Urgent.” On 7 November received a reply, “Sorry delay, 2,000USD sent Friday, smile.” This was definitely getting harder to do. Dick was stuck in Araguatins with Adio in a coma, now in critical condition, with no money and I was making zero headway getting our certificates completed much less notarized. Dick was climbing the walls and there was nothing I could do to help. It looked like we wouldn’t make our scheduled flight back to the States. I then solicited Dirk and associates of his to help get some of the paperwork done. We met with one of his students who worked in the tax department and said he would try and help. On 8 November the $2,000 finally arrived. The bank said that it had actually come in on the 3rd but had to be sent back as First City National of N.Y., so they said, because the amount had not been filled in on the transmittal document. Now with the money in hand, I could not get it to Dick until Sunday, the next scheduled flight to Araguatins.

The results of my medical tests indicated that I had minor complications caused from living in the jungle: some kind of intestinal yeast infection and some pigment in the urine. I was not sure what it all added up to but I started taking the prescribed pills. The elephantiasis test was happily negative. My change in diet from the jungle back to civilization had caused severe constipation, which I now quickly remedied with a few cups of the ubiquitous cafezinho. I then sent a telegram to Larry, “Received money and 29 October letter. Secured equipment and operation. Consider turnover with Dick, San Diego or D.C. Conference about 15 November best. Stop mail, am smiling. Mike.”

That evening, while waiting for Al Trinck in front of the hotel a young man came up to me and asked, in basic Portuguese so I would clearly understand, if I would go to bed with him?! I became unglued and was close to sending him on his way with a fast right, but my temper subsided and I pretended not to understand him so he went on his way.

On 9 November Dick was completely beside himself still languishing in Araguatins waiting for me to send him funds to settle our accounts, the money we owed the workers. He jumped on a plane for Belem with a solemn commitment to Duval to send him the money to pay each worker. When Dick arrived in Belem I was shocked and saddened when he informed me that Adio never recovered from his coma and died just before Dick left Araguatins. Dick buried him with a pledge to pay his pharmacy, casket and interment expenses. We stayed up into the early morning hours lamenting about Adio, hashing over the past week and reflecting on what we had or had not done the past three months. Dick and I put the money we owed the men onboard the next scheduled flight to Araguatins but it mysteriously did not arrive. The Araguatins airstrip was reported to be in complete disorder and confusion with the workers very unhappy. We could only assume that greed got the best of someone and there was no additional money to resend. It was difficult to sort out the true story as people there did not trust one another especially when it came to financial interests.

The next morning still not having completed all of the necessary paperwork to leave the country we hired a local Belem lawyer and an interpreter. Armed with uncompleted documents and a fist full of money, we succeeded in completing all the paperwork we needed in four hours! Even on Sunday you can shake hands with money in your palm and get things done, smoothly, quickly and with a smile. Once this was done we miraculously removed what little was left in our bank account, on Sunday, after hours. We paid for plane tickets and straightened out miscellaneous odds and ends.

The next day we finished making preparations for departing Belem, which included several scheduled stops in the Caribbean and a stopover in Port of Spain before continuing onto Miami. With all the government paperwork completed, visas ready, reconfirmed reservations with Pan Am for a noon departure and negative medical tests we were finally ready. We exchanged our last bits of cruzeiros that were initially purchased for 2.7 and sold back to a guy named Jake for 3.2. There must be a Jake in every city in the world. Late that afternoon Dick and I turned over all our information to Dirk giving him written authorization to handle all our affairs in Belem. We also left both of our side arms, the 44 magnums with Dirk; not risking getting them back through customs and enduring another heart-palpitating search. Also left behind with Dirk were the two diamonds we found; they were small and did not seem important to us at the time. In retrospect the diamonds would have made wonderful memorabilia to be included in a future wedding ring. For a keepsake I purchased Dirk’s guitar for $12, thinking I would learn how to play it and reminisce about our Brazilian adventure. It felt great to be going home telling each other and ourselves how wonderful our country was and we would be responsible model citizens. We loved our country! With great anticipation to get home along with a few lingering mosquitoes neither of us slept much.

12 November. After breakfast we were picked up by Dirk and his girl friend and taken to the Belem airport. The last few moments were a euphoric blur as we boarded Pan Am for home, lifted off, and headed north by northwest for the good old U.S. of A. We stopped in Paramaribo, Surinam; Georgetown, Guyana; and finally Port of Spain in Trinidad where we spent the night in the Pam Am guest house – all expenses paid! We felt like kings, royalty with VIP treatment. While lounging at poolside another small world story surfaced when chatting with one of the stewardesses. She happened to be a sorority sister of Sue Hammond, my first cousin, University of Colorado.

Before dinner we were like two little kids on Christmas morning reacquainting ourselves with all the bathroom hardware: fixtures, knobs and levers, and then blissfully enjoying lingering hot showers. Puttering around in a fully tiled bathroom in white robes was absolutely pure unadulterated ecstasy, an indescribable phenomenon slowly bringing us back to our civilized senses and of a life we had almost forgotten. The hospitality in Trinidad was welcoming, congenial and the service superb. For dinner we were invited to sit with the Pan Am captain and crewmembers. They seemed keenly interested in what we had been doing, which we discussed in detail, answering very pointed questions about specific aspects of our adventure. We reveled in the dinner still not quite sure exactly what to do, which fork and spoon to use, necessitating we follow the lead of others. The food was rich and we ate way more that we should have given the smaller portions of a bland jungle diet to which we had become accustomed. The desserts were way more than anticipated and we returned to our room stuffed, happy and full of anticipation of whatever might lay ahead.

Early the next morning, we lifted off on BWIA’s 727 for more Caribbean island hopping: Barbados, St. Lucia, San Juan, Kingston and Montego before arriving in Miami by mid afternoon. Before leaving Port of Spain I purchased a 30-year-old bottle of scotch sipping whisky to celebrate and spread cheer for the Thanksgiving holidays. While deplaning our emotions were mixed, exhilarated to be home, back in the U.S. but temporarily at a loss on how to act. Reentering was awkward and took a bit of time. Following customs and a phone call home giving my mom the A-OK, we made arrangements with Larry to meet in San Diego on 15 November to do a turnover. I’m sure my mom was relieved that I was fine and as she always said, “No news in good news,” one of her mantras in life. Dick flew on to New Orleans before he would meet us in San Diego.

I rented a car to visit Mr. and Mrs. Yonkers, now living in Del Ray Beach. They were aghast at the sight of my emaciated body struggling to restore my previous weight and strength, now down 20%. Libby, Charlie’s mom, went out of her way to ensure that I ate nonstop during my short stay. Surely they confirmed their previous convictions that I was certifiably unstable. I could only speculate about their thoughts on how their ‘second’ son was going to make his way in this world. Their own son, Charlie Yonkers, had been married when Dick and I were in the jungle. The Yonkers belatedly presented me with a groom’s gift that Charlie had given his wedding party, a small Thomas Jefferson-designed pewter cup inscribed with “Ham & Yonk 1948 ~”. I was thrilled to be included, a wonderful gesture lifting my spirits as I began to re-acclimate and think about my future.

I flew to San Diego to regroup, debrief Larry with Dick and regain some of my lost health and weight. First things first, I headed over to Jack Viera’s, my former commanding officer, with my 30-year-old sipping whisky to spread some cheer and celebrate my safe return. Suddenly it was midnight, the bottle was empty and neither of us was feeling any pain. Jack was then the commanding officer of a WWII destroyer and needed a ‘gun boss’. He offered me the billet which meant a great deal. It meant that I would have to return to active duty as a ‘Black Shoe’, a euphemism for a blue water shipboard sailor. This part of the Navy I was familiar with from active duty but it was not my specialty. Still, I was honored and started giving this life-altering option serious consideration.

After we spent most of the next day debriefing Larry, he organized a dinner for Dick and me at the North Island Naval Air Station Officer’s Club to recognize and celebrate our safe return. Several old teammates joined us so it was a great reunion of old friends and comrades. During dinner LCDR Robert Condon, commanding officer of UDT-12, asked me to be his executive officer. I was flattered and thanked him for his respectful gesture telling him that I would seriously ponder it. What I did not know at the time was that two months later in January 1968 Bob would be killed in Viet Nam.

Dick returned to New Orleans to get on with his love of flying and maybe business school. I hung around Coronado through Thanksgiving with Larry and other friends contemplating my options still looking like a tooth pick. During a Thanksgiving dinner in Coronado several friends had a double-take when they saw me. Some said that I looked so thin that I would have to stand sideways in the shower to get wet. A young female teacher living in South Mission Beach whom I had never met later remembered a scrawny looking guy during the evening but had no idea who it was. Little did we know that this young woman, Sara Collier, and I would be married two years later, four months after meeting, but that’s another story.

The Brazil sojourn was not a replacement for the UDT/SEAL Teams however I had had my quota, at least for the moment, of unusual ventures and risky exploits. Returning to grad school did not feel as onerous as it did before, except for the hippies and protestors. Unexpectedly I had two very nice offers to return to active duty but something kept holding me back, possibly one of the promises I made to myself six years earlier that I would get a masters degree in engineering.

I drove my trusty Porsche onto the Coronado – San Diego Ferry still conflicted, still unsure what direction to take. I clearly sensed this moment was pivotal, a cross-roads in my life. I drove off the ferry, paused by the side of the road, my head spinning contemplating what to do. Flashing through my mind were all the reasons I had articulated for not staying in the Navy and yet I was pulled by the commitment to myself, an unknown future and a yet unrealized family. Slowly, I put my black coupe into first gear, let out the clutch and turned east, towards Michigan, Ann Arbor, to finish what I had started.