Every weekend at the big U.S. naval base in San Diego, the cry goes up: "Let's go down below," or "Let's bug out to T.J." Soon battalions of fuzzy-faced young servicemen are headed across the Mexican border, where the horses run more often, the booze flows freer, and the ladies take off their clothes at the slightest pretext. Since World War II, when the
Government cleaned most of them out as a protection to servicemen, U.S. sin centers have been relatively tame. But vice has prospered in the Mexican border towns, and today...
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