DAI LIN: THE HAUNTING BEAUTY OF A WAR-TORN MEMORY

There are women whose attraction takes the breath away. Dai Lin was such a person.

 Her complexion was neither black, brown, yellow, or tan. It appeared the same golden color as an Italian sunset at midday.

 Her face displayed delicate features fluctuating between Oriental, Black, and European lineage. The bovine eyes reflected your image in an emerald-green halo, captivating your attention.

 Under the embroidered satin Ao Dai gown, her body moved with the erotic movements of a jungle cat, her legs and buttocks outlined by the contours of her form pressing against the clinging fabric. 

Dai Lin hid her face in public under a cone straw hat and a drab shawl wrapped around her shoulders, but if she looked up, not a pair of eyes would not focus on the impossible dream of her.

 She spoke softly, carrying the exotic lilt of her native tongue. I still remember her hands floating before her when she talked like fluttering onion skin.

Of all the terrible memories that remind me of that awful war, hers is one that still enthralls me. But as with everything else in that dreadful place, Dai’s beauty and grace would disintegrate in the insane violence of the place.

 Join me at VietnamJerry.com to read her story in Vietnam Uncensored and everything I witnessed. The book launch will soon arrive. Be sure to visit the website and receive the first chapter and the radio broadcast of Cpl. Cummings’ ghost story, along with exclusive content, and the promotional first-come price, promotions, and giveaways. 

All net proceeds will be donated to the Kaufman Fund, helping veterans in need.