My spy-pilot life

[vinhtruong]

Queenbee-1 in the cage

Warner Britton in Apple-One remembers - "they saw the flares dropped by the C-130 ignite and was impressed by the surrealistic appearance of the illuminated landscape. This light enabled commander to see Donohue, Apple-Three, hovering across the building complex toward which they were heading. They noticed that he didn't fire as scheduled and commented on this to Montrem. Then Kalen followed the first aircraft and he did fire. That was the last Montrem and they saw, as just after Kalen crossed the buildings, they’re landing on a heading slightly away from the buildings, so that their troops could proceed out the rear ramp and have their objective in sight. They had no idea that they had landed in the wrong place until they had taken off and turned toward the holding area. Memory’s Commander of what happened next differs slightly from that of some others. He believed that they took off, flew to their holding pattern-area about few minutes away and landed. They returned immediately when Donohue, in Apple-Three, told us they had landed in the wrong place. They were also in contact with Col Simon's group. Others, including Montrem, believe that they returned to pick them up without landing at the holding area. In any case, very little time passes before they’re back on the ground at the so-called "training-school" In the meantime, Jack Allison in Apple-Two carrying Bud Sydnor and his force, had landed at the correct predetermined spot and realizing that Apple-One was not with him immediately put an alternate plan in effect. Within a few minutes, however, he returned to the primary plan when the erring force was in place.
Jay Strayer from Apple-Two observed – “As they neared their objectives, they sensed that they were not going the right way to the Son Tay Camp, and mentioned it more than once to Jack. Quite suddenly they were sure of it; they’re about to land at the Military Camp to the south of Son Tay! The amazing thing to the commander at the time, and remains so, is that no one had the forethought to break radio silence and say so! Indeed, Apple-Three had almost taken the camp under fire, discovered his error in time, and turned north to the correct place.” Jack Allison, in the holding area, recalls – Sitting in the holding area waiting to be recalled to pick up the POWs and ground forces, Apple flight was treated to a spectacular fireworks display. 14 to 16 SAMs were fired at the F-105 “Wild Weasel” aircraft, although one was at such a low angle, one of the departing helicopters took evasive action. One SAM was observed to explode and spray fuel over Firebird-Three. The aircraft descended in a ball of fire and appeared to be a loss. However the fire blew out and the crew continued with the mission. Another SAM exploded near Firebird-Five, inflicting damage to his flight controls and fuel system. The crews later bailed out over the Plaine-des-Jarres highland at Laos and were picked up at first light by Apple-Four and -Five." While all the helicopters were engaged with he compound and A-1s Skyraider, which had arrived with the second C-130, were doing their thing. Bob Senko in Peach Two recollects - Ed Gochenaur and they’re in Peach-Two. They’re on Major Rhein' Wing. They had an automatic radio frequency change when they entered the target area. Only one aircraft forgot, and that was him. But they’re able to keep up with what was going on visually. Both Goch and him knew right away that none of the helicopters hand gone to the wrong area, but were pretty helpless to do much other than support the troops as best they could. Everything got better organized for them when he got the frequency right. It got better for the troops when they got to the right area.
Because they were out of position, they got called to pay close attention to the road from the south, to make sure no-one took advantage of our situation. When they got the order to shut down the foot bridge between the Citadel and Son Tay, lead and Goch got lined up headed east to take the bridge out with a couple of 100# Willie-Pete bombs. The commander hollered at Goch that he was too shallow, but he let the WPs go anyway and they were pretty short. Fortunately, his run in line was across a chemical factory (if that was what it was) and he greased it. There was a beautiful display of different color flames, with the bright green ones going-up way over the altitude they were working. Major Rhein's bombs were pretty good and the combination allowed them to get the job done. On - by the way - the reason Goch was so low on his run in was that the SAM-missiles had already started. They seemed to be pretty random at first but slowly they saw that they were at least aimed in the general direction of Son Tay Camp and were being fired on a very low trajectory. So they stayed as low as they could. They don't think any were actually targeted specifically on them. But they go our attention and they stayed pretty well in the weeds. It wasn't too hard since they had about 15-20 percent moonlight to work with and the target area was pretty well marked by the small arms going off. They’re circling the camp about 100-200 AGL and when they’re on the north side, they'd drop down to water level over the Red River. Again, because some of the ground troops were not in position to blow the bridge on the north side of the camp, they got called to take it out. Since they couldn't get enough altitude to drop any heavy stuff, they started strafing it. He don't know how productive that was, but He's pretty sure they kept any traffic off the bridge even if they didn't drop it. When the ground guys wrapped it up, they dumped their left over stuff in the Red River and headed home. One other thing he remembered vividly is that when the helicopters went in, they were to take out the guard towers with their mini-guns (7.62). They’re only to help as a last resort. When they opened fire, either they hit something explosive, or the sheer number of tracer-rounds caught the bamboo/wood towers on fire. Actually, it loomed like the exploded. It was amazing, certainly stopping any reaction from those towers."
The entire camp was searched. All North Vietnamese forces were annihilated and the devastatingly disappointing discovery was made that there were no Americans at the camp. The coded message - NEGATIVE ITEMS- was received in his command post. In disbelief he hoped that the message had become garbled in transmission. Simons and he had previously discussed this unlikely probability but know that the possibility existed. The raiding party was on the ground at Son Tay Compound for 29 minutes, within one minute of the planned time of 30 minutes. They experienced no losses. Sgt Wright suffered a broken ankle and Sgt Murry suffered a bullet wound on the inside of a thigh, a minor injury. The estimate of enemy killed was determined to be about 50. The helicopters were called in and the raiding party went aboard. After eerie-man was accounted for, they launched for the long ride back to Udorn. The SA-2 missile sites became active and were engaged by the F-105 Wild Weasels. A missile hit and severely damaged an F-105. There was a loss of fuel and an effort was made to return to the Being 707/KC-135 tankers on an orbit over the Laos space. A flame-out was experienced prior to contact with the tankers and the crew of two, Major Kilgus and Capt Lowry, ejected - landing in a mountainous area safety, uninjured. The progress of this emergency was monitored at his command post. Location of the downed airmen was relayed to the crew of HH-53s Apple-Four and -Five, Lt Col Brown and Major Kenneth Murphy, with instructions to search for and pick up the F-105 crew members. The pickup was successfully accomplished after more choppers air refueling and flare drops; all returned to Udorn safely. At Udorn he met a dejected force of raiders. They were disappointed because their hopes of returning with POWs were dashed. They had failed. This thoroughly dedicated group expressed the belief they should return the next night and search for the POWs. For many reasons, this could not be done. Did the mission result in benefits as Admiral McCain predicted? Yes, definitely. The North Vietnamese, fearing a repeat performance but not knowing when and where, closed the outlying POW camps and consolidated all POWs in the two main prisons in downtown Hanoi. These were the old French prisons of Hoa-Lo and Culac. The number of POWs at these two prisons now grew to the extent that POWs lived in groups, rather than what for many had been solitary confinement. Morale immediately improved and, as a result, general health improved. POWs have stated that lives were saved. Prison conditions to some degree generally improved. Mail delivery and food both improved substantially. Morale among next of kin, for the most part, also improved.
Jay Jayroe, former Son Tay POW, recalls -- "When the fireworks went off that clear night in November of 1970, we knew exactly what was happening - a raid on Son Tay Camp was in progress, some fifty-two of them had been moved from Hanoi to Son Tay in late 1968 and had immediately recognized it as a place for escape of rescue. During the following months they did what they could to indicate their presence there, hoping their efforts would result in success via US Airborne surveillance. However, for reasons unknown to them, in July, 1970 their captors moved them a short distance to a newly opened complex, where they were aggregated with other POWs from outlying prison camps. He did not believe the North-Vietnamese suspected an impending rescue attempt, because the move was quite frequently with no sense of urgency. The raid, as they have learned, was perfectly executed and highly successful with the exception of one minor detail - no one was rescued. But, short of being there, one cannot imagine the positive effect it had on those of them who were destined to spend some two and a half years more as POWs. One should recall that it had been two years since the US had stopped bombing North Vietnam, and their faith was being severely tried. But the Son Tay Rescue attempt dispelled all doubt: “They Were Not Forgotten; Their Country Cared!!!” During the hard times ahead, their renewed faith in God and Country served their well" -In 1973, when the 591 POWs were released, they learned that those at Son Tay had been relocated in mid-July - almost one month before the Joint Contingency Task Force was formed and trained for the rescue mission. Intelligence sources were not adequate to reveal the actual presence of POWs at specific locations on a real-time basis. Some critical intelligence had several weeks delay. The successful demonstration of their capability to execute this type of rescue mission undoubtedly had some impact on the formation, albeit 18 years later, of a Unified Command (USSOC) whose sole mission is special operations. He will always feel a great sense of admiration of the brave men who volunteered for the risky mission to rescue Americans in the heart of the enemy country. He is reminded of a scripture reading taken from the Old Testament

(continued)

[vinhtruong]

Queenbee-1 in the cage

Fortunately, having abrupt secret urgent message that all U.S POWs must gathered at Hanoi Hilton as soon as possible. On July 2, 1972 they were taken outside their cages and line up with a group of prisoners. There were about 26 ARVN officers and 2 Americans. Lieutenant Luong would soon learn that one of their groups was an American Gunship Cobra pilot who had been shot down the same day another VNAF pilot had, in an A-1 Skyraider at Polei-Klang, and 4 helicopter VNAF flight personnel crewmembers. The prisoners were addressed by the Communist camp commander and told that they were going to travel to a new camp, a better camp, a place where get better food and medical care, where they’d get mail and packages from home. He said the trip could take as long as two weeks, and that they should try very hard to make it. Lt Luong envisioned another jungle camp but somewhat better situated, staffed, and supplied, somewhere not too distant in northern Cambodia, or just across the border in Laos. The comment about trying very hard to make it did not register in his mind at all, until some surprising days later. For security during evacuation from camp to camp, the prisoners must set out barefoot with all of them tied loosely to one another. After few days, reaching the security area in the Ho Chi Minh Trail, they’d no longer be tied for moving faster because they all struggled to just keep moving forward. Two Americans pilots were so weak from malnutrition, sick with untold disease, and suffering from wounds that were infected and worsening with the aggravation of the journey. They soon began to become plagued by more leaches, on top of everything else. They’d suck- blood and cause infection of their own. Two American pilots have been a site by VNAF pilots who were there suffering the same conditions, fighting their own personal demons, that every steps of the way, threatened to destroy their physical ability, or derail their mental willingness to continue, and if they did not continue to march, they would die. In normal life, they have to take some overt action to die. They have to kill themselves. As a prisoner of war, under these circumstances, that truth is reversed. They have to reach deep within themselves and struggle each day to stay alive. Dying is easy, just relaxed, give up and peacefully surrendered, and they will die. Many did. They died in that first jungle prison camp, and they died along the Ho Chi Minh corridor. Some would complete a day’s journey and then lie down to die. Others collapsed on the corridor and could not continue. The group would be marched ahead, a riffle shot or shots heard, and the pitiful suffering prisoner was not seen again. They lost at least couple fellows of their small band of 28 captives, and by the time the journey was over. Wayne Finch or William Reeder, or other American in Luong’s group, would be dead as well.
Actually, the trip turned out to be not a two weeks hike to a new camp in the same vicinity as the one they’d departed. It turned out to be a journey lasting over a three months, taking them several hundred miles all the way up the Ho Chi Minh northern part into North Vietnam, and then on to the capital of Hanoi. It was a nightmare, a horrid soul wrenching nightmare. Every step, every day wracked their bodies with pain. Their infections became worse, disease settled in them. They were seemed nearly death. Their legs swelled at least double in size, darkened in color, filled with pain. They swelled so much, long cracks formed in the skin and puss and bloody stinky fluid oozed from the cracks. They drug their legs like the pendulous sodden club, and its every movement lashed their whole being with the most searing pain, pain that kept their faces contorted and a cry shrieking within every corner of their consciousnesses, pain that was burning the blackened scars deep into the center of their very beings.
Lieutenant Luong’ blood dysentery worsened, and he got different kinds of malaria and several intestinal parasites. And he hovered near death as he tried to reach the end of each horrible day’s journey of 10 awful grueling miles. Each morning, after unconscious-slept like death log, He’d begin a personal battle to stand and loudly moan or scream to himself through clenched teeth and pressed lips, as blood ran into his leg and brought a surge of new pain as gravity pulled blood and bodily fluids down into the carcass of leg and pressure grew against decaying flesh and failing vessels. There were many ARVN officers suffering badly themselves, but always encouraging U.S pilots, always helping as they could. They’d eat a paltry morsel of rice for dinner, and they tell Americans fellows this was not how Vietnamese ate. There were many fine foods in Vietnamese culture. A Vietnamese meal was delight. Don’t judge the cuisine by what they were given to eat. Americans believed VNAF pilots, and did not. And the Vietnamese were right, of course. Americans tried to maintain a sense of humor. It was hard, but it was necessary. “Your spirit is the most important factor in survival, and a sense of humor, even under the very worse conditions, helps maintain spirit, and in spirit lives hope. And again, the Vietnamese helped. They were always concerned about fellow-Americans, and did all they could to help U.S POWs remain positive, to be hopeful. As bad as things got, the Americans never gave up hope, not even the day U.S POW would have died had it not been for Vietnamese POW.
Two Americans mustered all their wills each day just to wake, stand, and take a step. Then Americans fought hard for the remainder of the day to just keep going, to keep moving along the corridor path. Americans could barely walk, but somehow they continued, and survived each day, to open their eyes in the morning to the gift of one more dawn.

All this is very odd, American pilot Reeder felt on the worst day of his life. He fought so very hard, he faltered, he dug deeper, staggered on. He faltered again, and he struggled more, and he reached deeper yet, and he prayed for more strength. And he collapsed, and he got up and moved along, and he collapsed again, and again, and he still fought, fought with all he had in his body, his heart, and his soul. And the communist cadre came the guard looked down on Reeder. He ordered Reeder up. He yelled at Reeder who could not. It was done.
And then there was one Vietnamese pilot looking worried, bending toward Reeder. The guard yelling to discourage his effort; He persisted in moving to help American-pilot. The guard yelled louder. Vietnamese pilot’s face was set with determination, and in spirit of whatever threats the guard was screaming. He pulled Reeder along with his feet dragging on the ground behind him. He drug Reeder along all the rest of that day. Occasionally, he was briefly relieved by another Vietnamese helicopter pilot, but it was the first who carried the burden that day. It was the first fellow pilot who lifted Reeder from death, at great risk to his own life, and carried Reeder, until they together completed that long day’s journey.
The next morning, Reeder went through the normal agonizing ritual of waking up, and standing, and dragging his leg through those first determined steps. It was more of a struggle than ever before. Reeder mustered the will, and he went on. At the edge of the encampment was a broad log that spanned the rapids of a river. He started to cross, tried to balance. Pain awful, very weak, equilibrium gone. No sense of balance, worthless leg is throwing him off … begin to slip off the side of the log … then falling onto the rocks in the rushing water below. All Vietnamese pilots and another American moved back off the log and came to his rescue. They pulled Reeder from the river and onto the bank. They pleaded for the group to remain at this camp until he was able to travel again. Finally, they were ordered away, they would not leave Reeder. They were drug away and forced across the log bridge at gunpoint. And they were marched away with the rest of their prisoner group in emotional departure…emotional departure. They never had a chance to see those Americans again … ever!

As far as Reeder’s fellow prisoners knew, he was left at that camp to die, as others had been? No never … but the communist had to first aid for him becoming no-harm. This was the order from high-command in Hanoi. But for some reason, the Communist decided to give him penicillin injections for several days. Reeder began to show some improvement. After a time, he was able to stand, and as soon as he was able to walk again, he was put back on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, this time traveling with groups of NVA soldiers moving north, and accompanied by his own personal guard. It continued to be an agonizing trip, but the worst was behind him. He even found the opportunity to escape once when he got one turn ahead of his guard on the jungle trail. But the guard quickly tracked him down, and once the guard decided not to shoot him in his rage. The guard recaptured him, and the journey continued. Eventually, Reeder joined with another group of ARVN prisoners as they entered North Vietnam, and ultimately reached Hanoi. There Reeder went into North Vietnam’s prison, and ended up at the infamous Hanoi Hilton from where he released at the Paris Peace Talk agreement accords to axiom-3: [The U.S could not have won the war under any circumstances, so honorable withdrawal]

Now as for us, New POW, one certain day, we have been working to fill the hollow-bumpy road with soil and stone. Suddenly, the camp commander called our group came back home for digging the grave to bury a cellmate just have been dead. The story was a victim as a lieutenant colonel Nghiep from VNAF, eating poisoned mushroom in the deep virgin forest. He was my Air force pilot, went deep into forest to fall the bamboo and carried them home to build the cage-shelters. Three of them, one in Special Force, one in Ranger, both of them said they were already ate this strange-yam. So my friend trusted them, and put this yam in the fire-wood, after few minutes, it smells okay. Then my friend because too starving, tried to eat this yam. But when swallowed abruptly he felt could not breathe, all the digestive organ was swollen on, his respirator air couldn’t come out. He become mute as a fish, indicated by hand to another cellmates nearby to go back camp. When they reached at the camp, he tried very best to vomit but fail, except vomit the blood. A hunter dog of the prison-camp licked that stuff and fall to shaking died of poison at once. Some of our fellows tried to grill this dog for food; but the cadre officer order to bury dog-remain right away. They let the victim write a letter to his family and explained why he will die. We carried our fellow Nghiep to bury him on the hill growing of Tree-Vau likely bamboo but bigger, straighter. Where we’re just fell the Tree-Vau and replace the same spot our cellmate fellow graves right after that. Unfortunately, everyone was too exhausted, starved, we couldn’t excavate deeper, we tried to cover the thin layer soil just enough covering on disguise it. We prayed, wished no wild animal scratch up. “Blessed be His glorious name forever; may all the earth be filled with the Lord’ glory. Amen and amen! May, we forever thank you Lord. For the blessings you deem to send; but most of all we thank Thee; for being our best and dearest Friend.
The native tribe let us know, this yam was extremely poisoned no one in this area noticed-know how it. This yam with the name “Củ-đuôi-trâu” (Tail-Buffalo-Yam) But at night, we tried to excavate a buried dog then we cooked and eating, luckily no harm, that’s okay for everyone. Thank God!
At the winter, the weather was so cold, our camp located deep in the valley, the climate was so adverse, the mosquito picked, sucks our blood but let so much itched. Over here there have a stranger tiny leeches, they usual living in the bushes, when they felt a sensitive the human body warm temperature passed, they sprang up attaches itself to its victims and sucks their blood. When we felt itched that was too later everywhere in the neck, face, shoulder were likely bleeding. At the working spot, some time the small wild-Bee-flies abruptly attacked on us all over our faces leaving bleed and itched. The spring water was also harmful, in the monsoon rainy of heavy rain that comes with the flood, a large quantity of wasted water covering a large area with Tree-Liem leaves, and the most poisoned of another leaves from Tree-Son. So after water came down, few habitants were died, some were real sick with strong high-fever. The Tree-Son, sometime we didn’t know it poison, we fell and cut carry them back to the camp used fire-wood, create in. One day another fellow in camp’s kitchen fired this kind of Tree-Son become hospitalized and died after few months in the hospital as Lieutenant Luong was died in 1979. One certain day, myself, I didn’t know the Tree-Son, on the way carried them back to camp. I felt itched and hot at my shoulders. Finally, I was sick with terrible high-fever temperature. I murmured: “Today, I’ve gone to figure out how to survive today!”
In the summer time, we don’t have enough water, so the streams were so drought. But the water was condensed in the muddy hollows with poisoned water. All prisoners of the camp were sick includes the guards. The camp commander gave the favors, if any prisoners at working spot maybe have twice a week baths but we’re so sick couldn’t stand up for worked. Bleed to death, to suffer severely or die from hunger like wild animals starving in the drought. What’s for starving? Be starved into surrendering. We were trying to convince ourselves again and again not to worry about go to die, but those images of endless days would continue to ambush our mind even through nightmares. Though we’re pretty sure that the Hanoi can win by used military power but fail by political of Vietnamese sentimental of our culture traditional nation; proof and evidence, the Provisional Revolutionary Government (Viet Cong) has been supported in United Nations was 76 votes, almost double of Hanoi and GVN vote. Hanoi must be humiliated in that event.
As for myself, a spy pilot on the view of bird, with benefit of hindsight, it has become clearer that the U.S Permanent Government goals were more ambitious than a superficial, bogus military victory [they have sophisticate weapons like CBU-55, AC-130B, Laser, Smart Bombs, BLU-82AL…] Had the U.S. really wanted a military triumph, it could have easily achieved it after the massive bombings of Hanoi in December 1972, they fired 1,242 SAM and had none left. And in early 1975, I supposed to lead a South Vietnamese attack on North Vietnam, which was defended by a single division of regular troops. All I required from the United States was just merely air support, and the U.S. troops already in my country would defend population centers. Finally I’m waiting for the justice, the logical solution for the ARVN’ POW after their craps. So despite all set-backs, recovering quickly from disappointment, cheerful and confident, we remained buoyant!

(continued)

[vinhtruong]

Queenbee-1 in the cage

Suddenly, from a secret order (China give Vietnam a lesson on border attack) at midnight we prepared to move back Yen Bai Province. We heard the trucks moving in front of the camp. Luckily we’re escaped out of the mortally serious zone. After a long journey-day we’re arrived the formerly inter-camp. Where our works were less hard than before; day by day we were very busy during harvest, digging out the cassava from the hard soil and gathered at this time. Brought the camp to sliced and put open sun for drying, some changed into powder. Pull the cassava out of hard soil making us sometime feel the backbones come out of our bodies. Finally, the harvest was over and our works turn into raised crops again by digging hole on the hill farther extended till the foot of big mount. No the fertility of the soil, so to make soil more fertile by inserting the leaves down inside every hollows then put small trunk-chop of cassava before buried soil on it.

Weather-Weaponry: In the Vietnam-War, since 1970 the first volley in Congress when Senator Church and Kentucky Republican Senator John Sherman Cooper authored a bill that cut off funding of all military activity in Southeast Asia that I supposed this issue seemed “a manage the defeat” take retaliatory measures on Soviet Union turn to babies sisters all small communist countries. Now Soviet must expensed all aid in economic plus military supporting till finally exhausted. After Communist overran in South Vietnam, in the nation wide was subjected to for years of severe famine, must take exchange rice for huge quantity of horse food (Bo-Bo grains edible) to overcome people starving. The weather weaponry like Cuba inflicted hot and dry temperature, hurting even the easy crop like sugar cane, potatoes, cassava, manioc, corns couldn’t grown up.
In lobby of a certain break time after long Paris talk session, Henry Kissinger usual make a casual talk about if whether the donated Saigon to Hanoi dominated as the gift, and how Le Duc Tho carried out to feed their citizens out of starvation. Usually people were never believed all the gossip they hear; but I believe it true, and real. Tho responded in logical way – It’s easy while we don’t need freezer for food preservation. All the surface cultivated lands were explored in spreading as much as we can to raise cassava and manioc keeping preserved in the soil for long when we needed. How could Tho understand the weather weaponry that in the past Cuba gave up, couldn’t raise sugar-cane.
The program moving POW to North Vietnam was stopped in April 1977. And in early 1981, Hanoi changed the prisoner policy, put under surveillance of the Special police Department. All of us moving to southern near Lao/Vietnam border, Tan-Ky’ Prison, Nghe-Tinh province; I saw the prisoners of felonies like the skeleton been walking; one day I could image my similar of the fate of them. I do know next to us was the Camp-4 reserved for our fellows come back from Guam Island by Vietnam Thuong-Tin’s ship and next was the Camp-5 reserved for FULRO (Front Unified Liberation Faces Oppressed.)
A certain day, the Camp commander said in front of criminal prisoners, the guards didn’t worry about them to escape out the Camp; but political prisoners like us meant a big some of money in trading. As foresee, maybe a plan providing against perishing in the attempt POW by starving with hard-labor wasn’t acting by secret agreement between Kissinger and Tho. We were gradually moving back to Saigon for releasing. Camp Z-30s, situated from East of Saigon sixty kilometers were the center POW released transit. Afterward a procession will be established for evacuation the POW to United States by Humanitarian Organization.
In any case, I name heroes those whose are capable to survive years being imprisoned, starved, torture in the hand of the enemies. It is not rare when people are brave enough to stand upright and speak the truth even if it probably leads to their death. Those are our superheroes whose name, we would never forget. Right after the South Vietnam ended in April 1975, dozens of high ranking officers chose the death rather than to surrender to enemies in defending their moral integrity, such as generals Le-Van-Hung, Le Nguyen-Vy, Nguyen-Khoa-Nam, Pham-Van-Phu, Tran-Van-Hai, Ho-Ngoc-Can …to name a few. In the so-called re-education camps throughout the country, we have learned numerous cases that our fellow detainees stood up against the communist cadres for the righteousness without fear of being killed. As a result, many were isolated in the darkness and murdered mercilessly.
Since it is not the loss of lives through fighting, but the true casualty is far more reaching. The war didn’t stop with the loss of South Vietnam. It didn’t stop with the loss of its nature people. The loss extends to me, my siblings, my SOG’ comrade-in-fights, my cousins, my children, my children’s children; the loss is immeasurable. That is the true cost of war that WIB Bones had walk into the very disaster in Vietnam then Iraq.
Not surprisingly, we’re still imprisoned in the Reeducation Camps at that time, took a dim view of U.S [WIB] as a traitor. But we’re still hope that the U.S. was generally regarded as one of the most thankless tasks in America media reports. Washington has to review, struggle to achieve some level of cooperation from Hanoi regime that 10,000 of its POW and deal with an advocacy network that fed every wild rumor or conspiracy theory, preying on the grief of South Vietnam families who had not release yet – the son and husbands of those who anxiously followed from the Washington hearings, a ten thousands ARVN’ prisoner of war. The fact that when the U.S. should say the word “Vietnam” today the U.S meant not just a war but a country – at long last, a place where, as I thought thirty years ago, “America turned and veterans helped in the turning.” – in transcending the Vietnam trauma was one important factor – have the courage to put the policy into action – normalization of diplomatic relations with Vietnam.

Queenbee-1 from the Reeducation Camp to become a Boat People
FLEEING BY BOAT TO PHILIPPINE: A classified document of CIA disclosed:" There'll be a chaos fleeing out of Vietnam… and The Hanoi’s Communist will revenge... We soldiers, who fought without commanders to the last bullet, finally must be captured and jailed." What a drama which was written by W.A Harriman who was an architect of ‘cold war’, a notorious wise man amongst “Six Friends and the World They made” The Wise men (1986) described by Walter Isaacson and Evan Thomas! Yet Dr Henry Kissinger was a choreographer of “Pennsylvania” performance which was painfully negotiated and deadly led to the end of Republic of Vietnam in the South.
The Evil WIB Bones pressured on Congress in U.S had undercut support for the war, even the material support that acted government had promised the South. The ARVN began to run short of spare parts, fuel, medical supplies, and ammunition. They fought on through '73 and '74, with things getting worse month by month. Eventually, what US indecision and weakness had made inevitable did occur, and Saigon fell. With it fell a night of suppression, repression, and vindictiveness as the communists broke every promise to "liberate" the South and offer "reconciliation" to those who had opposed them. Thousands died, hundreds of thousands went to "re-education" camps, other hundreds of thousands went to "New Economic Zones", and the standard of living fell to one of the lowest in all of South East Asia. Hunger was rampant, despair was common, and millions of Vietnamese left the country every way they could, even though the risks of even trying to leave were high, and the risks of the journey included an appreciable chance of death.
This was the fault of the WIB Bones, which had not kept all its promises to RVN. And I knew that good people, many, many good people, were paying a heavy price for U.S failure to support us. Since I could do nothing about it, I tried hard for years to not think about it too much.
Alas! Junior officers like us must go to the so called “reeducation camps”; in fact a giant prison in which, the most savaged revenges began to destroy human beings, one by one. After almost 13 years of that revenge, I looked for a way to flee by boat. How accurate that CIA document designed and carried out and how suffering we were while we endured those terror days! (Despite a 10/10/1972 media meeting that Kissinger had said “peace at hands” after secretly gave The South to Hanoi and advised the North not to revenge former SVN officers).
Kissinger also boasted to Le Duc Tho when walking around the palace in break-time but eventually the truth occurred for decades later: ”The First invisible antagonist is yourself, The Second is amongst your Communist Party, and the Third is all your citizens included few of your cadres!”
Thousands of escapes with different circumstances and factors but the same goal: Looking for lives from death on wide open sea which is always controlled by angel of death! With a dependable of boat, big engine, endurance, weather; people on board were terrifying, shocked and had a painful experience, and most seeking to pray with God for help because of disorientation.
I know well that the hardship never stops at the end of a long prison time but is prolonged for my next generations to come! For that of one day, I was offered to take a free trip to escape by boat and acting as an interpreter in return when meeting with foreigners on the sea. But I had refused that offer for I felt better anyway after long prison at that time. My oldest daughter looked after me well enough to sell up her house for buying an old boat with flat base and two eyes in white-black-red colors as usually country customs. Most important means are a map and a compass which should be minimum assurance for a maritime line that I couldn’t apparently, look for, as a house arrested ex-prisoner.
For 100 long days from early mornings, I had digging a 6/30 meters fish pond when focused on that ill plan with many questions of where, what country, when… even I chose in advance Thailand or Malaysia as a farthest, due to our boat too small designed to floating on river than open sea. By departing in March as a new released prisoner, it was too late for safety because of an old-folk saying “Deadly of March for elderly woman on sea!”
On the 85th day, me and 3 children, 2 grandchildren silently took a daily bus to the Western, unloaded at Long-Dinh County with regional alike clothes. We immersed into the crowds for best cover from plain cloth police and followed a rough trail to the South going along side of a coconut line beside a vile on the right and a man-made canal on the left. An experienced local boat operator had waited for us at the end of the canal; 2 km from Long-Dinh sailing about 60 km more to the seaside. Night felt fast at the end of area-palm tree line. We were in great trembling that we’d lost our appetite at a well prepared meal. When night was totally in darkness, a 10 year old boy came to show us the way out to the departing boat. He made a signal for us to hide in bushes and waited. A sound of small canoe came closer and stopped. The boy let us wade into the deep mud canal, left our shoes and sandals there to climb on the boat. We lied down deep inside on its floor to make it looks like a fruit trading boat going to My-Tho market.
From Long Dinh’s canal to stream following into the larger tributaries out along to the sea; Inside the boat, my heart had beaten hard like the time of dropping STRATA’s infiltration Teams into Ho Chi Minh Trail. Four children and nine adults gave trust on Mr. Hai boat operator who was well experienced. Drowsy yellow lights of My-Tho’s city appeared on my left. We prevented of getting closed to all canoes, boats and ferries traveled all over the area. I peeped through a small hole at the leaf-hood out and felt the boat flew out strong to the sea, the farther from My-Tho, the deserter of traffic on Mekong Delta.
Suddenly, the engine sounds strange and felt dead stopped. I was so nervous. Mr. Hai tried to fix when everybody was praying. Finally it worked well again. Before the trip, we had bought a spared small good old engine and a new Champion spark plug for emergency. Mr. Hai even urged to buy several fan-propellers to replace broken ones when needed. Most importance is getting out of Cua-Dai’s estuaries before sunrise for fear of police coast-guard-patrols can see us in day time. And once again, the engine broke down. Mr. Hai tried to fix it right away while we were prayed and it worked. At 3 am the situation was just on and off like that. Suddenly Duoc’s bushes appeared in the far east of estuary, Duoc were the wild sea-plant growing-up between the mix fresh mix salt water that means showing-up we are in the mouth of a river in which the river’s current meets the sea’s tide. The natives were made the Duoc’s trunk for good fire-wood last burned so longer. Their thick root helped keeping sea-shore slowing down sea-waves as well.
Now, I was in a great nervous tremble, concerning if whether engine happened to quit or what. When we just discovered in front of us, one coast guard patrol-canoe that will be reached for the next couple minutes, had been anchored at the middle of our exit. We had no choice and just passed this white canoe patrol. My eyes opened broader starring at this monster. It slightly stirred by our boat waves, 100 meters, 50 m but this monster was sleeping, unmoved. I wished they overslept or ignored us, like a fruit trading boat as usual. In my profound mind, I thought that the police had been familiar with the noise of every boat engine, and their felt-consideration that this is a small engine just available only used in the river. So they did not mind about our escaped-boat. I thought this communist navy vessel saw the craft, but they did nothing, because they did not believe this junk could cross the open sea. The more we got closed to the sea, the more wind and waves we faced.
The sky wide opened in fog and silver waves ahead. Already the sun was hard and slicing through the morning haze, a humid, steady breeze coming in off the nearby Pacific Ocean. I silently praised Mr. Hai’s skill and experience, sometime narrowly escaped fishing nets all over around us. Sometimes we took turns to help him push our boat forward by bamboo canes at the shallow waters. Farther from Cua-Dai’s estuary, I was the only man permitted to sit at the front end for checking the compass for direction which hung out on my neck. The dictionary with a map printed inside was under my bottom. Mr. Hai and I suddenly had seen the white patrol boat which was following far behind us. I ordered at once all young men turning on another spared engine and kept both two working with maximum speeds. Because our boat was so small and with two engines running made a large difference. With forward speed like this and the nose higher, we hope to reach the international sea very soon. Another wood-cargo boat joining helped them pursuing us simultaneously. They were chasing us with full speed! We were horribly scared; almost ceased of breathing and had kept going on, waiting for the worst to come. After all, when we looked back the cargo boat and the white patrol boat were far away until the patrol boat was just a tiny black spot. Maybe now we are in the international sea shore limited!
When the left engine at last broke down too, we were already in the international sea. Two hours later, the only one was broken down. Our boat was silently alone in the open sea. She twisted to the wind blowing from South-East to East back to Vung Tau at speeds at least 15 knots per hour. A strong twisted evening-storm blew off our leaf-hood and took off our boat almost out of sea level. Women and children were crying as strong wind howled through our shaking boat. Someone blamed each other. Others were just praying in hopelessness. One lady was crying," She wants to go back to main land even goes to jail… had she had the creeps…? Waiting for another escape again after subjected a period of jail’.Nobody was able to cry anymore because they were exhausted. Someone threw away drinking water jars for space to let their backs rest on the floor deck. No more hope in the dark of the thunderstorm night. Yellow lights of Vung Tau city were not very far; its lighthouse turned around and appeared being bigger.


(continued)

[vinhtruong]

Fleeing by boat to philippine

I was frustrated at this trip and considered it as a total disaster. I expect the next prison time will be a fatal one under the iron hands of the enemy. When I was in Northern Hanoi deadly Hoang Lien Son mountainous prison in 1978, after a severely dysentery for 27 days passed, I had survived while other inmates just died in 22 days. With policy of harsh labor, malnutrition, no medicine, patients usually wet their rag pants every 100 m until a certain early morning; they gave no response from their next fellow inmates. They paid off their lives, designed by their enemy. At anytime I can die because the work there was brutally hard, always in the status starving: a cup of wheat flour daily and some salt water. Many of my fellows in fight die there, almost every day. When I sleep, I may die, I just think I will. Maybe I can die on the job at any time, the result; one third of us died and my turn to die will come as well.

As a man without any certain faith, I believed in God and only my father who loved me the most. Before throwing my ID papers to the ocean, I prayed my father’s soul would help us once again and was remembering at North of Vung Tau and Ham Tan in front of me in the past, I had 2 near death experiences during the 24 hours in standby for a medical evacuation mission which was a forced landing at night and continuing after self mechanical repair. Right in the next morning, only to be flown for a while and then had a forced landing again at Phu Lam, Cho Lon area. All crew-members were OK. How about this maritime mission? I would bet a small fortune for better lives rather than continuing animal-like lives under non-humanitary rules of this Communist regime. I even accepted an emotional farewell to this last moment of freedom before my body disappeared in the sea.
The sounds of people crying, roaring waves, rumbling thunderstorm, strong howling wind and possible screaming souls from hell deep in ocean floor at night made me awaken. We abandoned our dream by counting our lives not by every hour but by each minute, every second. I felt unconscious on the boat deck after one of many giant waves as tall as a mountain, rotated us around, down to the bottom of a whirlpool, we were almost swallowed by the deep ocean.
When I woke up in the morning; in front of me there was another high wave and a Russian oil drilling platform that nobody wanted to stop by. Its helicopter probably routinely flew over our tiny fleeing boat un-attentively. I informed to people that our “faithful boat” will drift to the shore of the Philippines which was still far away. Our drinking water, gas, and food supply would last only for a few days. We had to go to Hong Kong, for seasonal South East strong winds were blowing at this time but for the next month we just left out of Mekong Delta. We had no chance of Thai pirates at this far out sea but having no safety of drifting as along side Thai or Malaysian territories.
I opened my tiny atlas, looking for the closest small island of the Philippines on the map. Showing to my son, a thousand kilometers trip to unknown islands later I was told Palawan. Everybody became so frustrated,”hope was far away from our hands.” For the next three days the weather was a little better but we had to empty water from our boat, because a woman on board panicked and threw some of our fresh water supply overboard. Before any calm was restored, for seeking comfort lying on her back on flat floor deck.
A surprising story had filled our trip with hope: I found a small Buddha Goddess portrait still clinging to the side of the boat after it went missing in the thunderstorm. It belonged to a devout Buddhist lady who asked me to look for with no hope at all. This story made me doubted about science vs miracle. As a saying goes, “For knowing fate from God, doing one’s last effort.” I understood that no President is elected without his candidacy. In a past good opportunity, I listened to, Most Venerable Thich Tam Chau’s meditation of wit in religious cultivation, also indicated that a successful religious life must go along with “wisdom” which means self protection. He told a short story: A long time ago, Respected Buddha asked a long cultivated serpent: "How come you have been seriously wounded?" She answered to him "When I was cultivated at a forest side, an old wơod-woman was mistaken me as a dry creeper. She bound me around her bunch of dry wood and went home. As sơon as she reached her front yard, she threw her heavy dry-wood down; breaking my back bones." Buddha told to her, "Not a bite to making your crime, than having no wound now”.
This story made sense to me. A saying goes: “Bigger ship, higher waves” and a physic principle indicated that high speeds made soft water harder, all had shown me understanding how two different air chambers and water weigh between a line of sea level that made a ship sink and how a half immersed flat floor boat in water made it stick with good adhesion to the surface of the sea level component, this is a crucial important factor keeping our boat from sinking and for our survival. As for the small Buddha Goddess portrait clinging between boat side and sea level, was a powerful answer that had been demonstrated in an understandable, different way by a Buddhist lady.
Days after days sitting unmoved in front of the boat, I thought of a lady who told me from beginning of the trip that her late mother’s soul told her in her dream to wear a peasant shirt when fleeing by boat for good luck. I simply thought that idea was good; to make us look similar with local peasants to prevent attracting plain clothed police before the trip. Now I apply that idea with a white peasant shirt hanging on a long stick to make a signal of SOS. When that shirt felt from the strong wind, that woman herself with her own hands so permanently tied up steadily and kept this shirt forever lasting during the journey. According that wind-force as this maneuver, I also ordered to hang a thin blanket as a sail to help our boat drifting faster from West to East of our freedom. We hoped for high velocity to be reach ashore at the Philippines for 3, 4 weeks. Our only problem was food for survival.
Suddenly an accidental fire came from a smoking cigar was prevented by a swift and strong Western wind blowing to divert the fire from flowin to the gas tanks and ended up by the same lady who covered her towel on the flame. I decided to keep matches away from smokers and to conceal a 555 brand cigarette pack for later when we land on shore for celebration, despite their desire to smoke.
On the morning of the 4th day at sea, enormous clouds of Cumulonimbus thunderstorm were over our heads. I looked at the maritime compass trying to face north but the wind drove us East with huge high waves. Darkness of night came at only 4 PM in extremely dangerous strikes on the boat’s sides. Wind and high waves surrounded us. We saw the dark sky and opened our mouths receiving only little natural water and kept one third of water on our boat for cling the sea surface. People embraced each other in fear and to stay calm. Children vomited and cried without stop. Everybody silently prayed. I had heard a near by prayer:”Nammo Adi Buddha, full of mercies, please save me, Mahatat…” The prayers were getting louder and louder as the majority of people were Buddhists. I just followed them as a non-religious man.
On that circumstance, only I and the boat operator still kept ourselves calm for we were experienced captains and pilots. One cargo ship passed, we waved our white flag as an enormous long ship went by but failed to wake up its crew’s conscience-humanity as the goodwill of the world was fading by years, mandate ocean laws and by time went by from 1975 till 1988. I thought it was hopeless when I tried to use a mirror to make signals to US intelligence satellites or electronic radar planes near by with no sunshine at the time, with my rusty flashlight batteries caused by salted sea water and night fell upon us. I understood clearly why this largest cemetery of our planet which was burying our half million boat people deep under its Pacific bottom became most cruel, regardless of robbing, kidnapping and rapping by Thai sea-pirates.
All the same circumstances coming repetition to the 5th day. I thought about with 21 more days to reach the nearest Philippines’s island (Palawan), we should be starved. I tried to figure out the behavior, face, and shape of the Philippinos look like Indonesians and our fisher-ancestors as well following an ethnology that I learned of when I was stopped by a US military airport, Clark-Field AFB, in the Philippines in the past. Otherwise our trip was dangerous as our traditional verse: “Men trespass ocean in paisr; Women trespass alone!” which means when the women gives birth she risks her life.
I was awaked when my daughter feared I should be able to fall into the sea by asking “Were you there Dad? Dad was you there?” I answered at once to calm her:”I was here, we’d be ashore a few days ahead!”
Luckily our boat drifted to the East with high velocity, some cargos ships passed by without stopping to rescue us. Familiar with sea journey, people were pleased with better weather and asked me: "For how long to come, Mr. Ba?”
"A few days more” I gave them a false answer for calm. A drove of dolphins was swimming and dancing in front and around us, mistaken our boat with two big our boat’s eyes in red and black color as another dolphin. We kept quiet, silently appreciated them as fishermen’ saviours as traditional belief of sea-fishing.
Turbulences, velocities, thunderstorms came and went away every afternoon in this seasonal weather, as well as clouds above us and multi-precipitation huge waves below always during 10 day floating. Higher in sky, clusters of fish-like scale Cirrus cloud were above cotton as in lower space like Cumulus passed over our boat with high velocity. I was so pleased in pushing our sails ahead to freedom. A long narrow strip of smok cross-hanging on the sky made me having a sense of good for orientation. It was indicated that those passenger air lines came from Japan, Korea, Hong Kong or Taiwan to South-East Asia’s countries like Singapore, Malaysia or Thailand. Another segment of smoke closer Philippines ashore, now on top of our boat, indicated probably flied to Australia or Indonesia. Actually I anticipated a readjusted calculation for a shortened journey with amount of gas enough to arrive in the Philippines. We must fix the engine at any price for goods in commission. This reciprocating cool-air engine was so simple; having a fire plug and gas carburetor. According this basis principle operation, I thought of my youngest son, 17 years old at the time, would be able to succeed in a new society with great opportunities to come. As an infant, when relatives came to play with him in rude manners, he just drew a sigh like adults, making everybody laugh loudly. Strange thing, all but his head and hair got wet every time he pissed. He has had a strange physiognomy that I hoped would be positive instead of negative way.
I said: “Khanh, come here I want to see you now?”
He crawled very slowly to me after 10 days of sea sick and starved as I called and asked him trying to check up the carburetor and replaced a new spare Champion spark plug. After a while, he found a dirty spark plug and replaced it, cleaned the carburetor system with his shirt, making the engine work again with a droning sound. People apparently were full of joy!
On the morning of the 11th day, high waves once again caused the fan-propeller to fall off from the engine shaft-track. Immediately Mr. Hai got a new one and replaced it, the journey continued. Then night went in total darkness. Great Bear, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Comet were on and off from thr cosmos above. Finally we discovered as like one floating city with numerous lights on it, instantly she came closer; but Mr. Hai did not know during 10 days and nights no cargo-ship would’t like to rescue us. And also he did not know what happened, it was risky at night when our boat closed to the cargo-ship which could submerge our boat, turn us over by rolling her washing waves. That was lucky because we failed to catch a bright lighted ship which intentionally fled us. I gave direction to operator to keep heading 145 degrees south-east and turned off the engine at midnight for waves drifting and save gas. Everyone was lying down sleeping.
Next morning, people were lying still because of starvation, sea sickness and bad sanitation. I focused on the heath factor to keep my grandchildren and children to survive. I leaned that with every breath, there were millions of red blood cells were dead and millions others were born like waves of water came and went from our boat. Physicist Archimede explored the power of water which later gave us cargo ships, battle ships, submarines. Now this power stuck adhesively under our boat and keept it moving forward.
Sunrise on the 12th morning and clear sky made us happier; because we could stand up even though we were so terribly starved. In the sky a straight segment of white smoke strip appeared and clearly make sense of me; we are very close to the Philippines indicated by this white smoke strip far away from West, behind of our boat. Suddenly we saw blue calm level with many pivotal, sharp, rocky coral submerded-island which later we learned that more than 20,000 boat people died when their boat were hit and sank by dark sharp rocks. Now we were in case emergency, we did very best standing up reflecting for survival to empty salt water inside our boat and prevented it from knocking against rocks with manipulating long bamboo sticks keeping out of hit distance from coral-rocks. Our boat floating very slowly, we could see very clear every vulnerable, risky, object below; we tried to hold our breaths...”The creeps.” Finally we were safe, thank God! What happened if our boat floated overhere at night?

(continued)

[vinhtruong]

Fleeing by boat to Philippine

I thought: let's start the engine, but the operator all ready did. I was sure by checking two passenger airplanes crossing above but behind me. Now with my compass and map for coordination with aircrafts crossing, our heading direction, I was determinated to tell the operator to keep heading at 150 degrees against North to avoid getting lost and starving to death on the strayed seaway to Guam, Wake Island…
All night long, young men took turn to hold operating the engine continuously running. We kept on that way, on the 13th day; people woke up earlier with joy. Sea whales swam around us, followed by dolphins behind. A young man named Tung from the rear came up faster to tell me with overjoyed: "Uncle Ba, I saw look like a chain of mountain in front of us!” I apparently had guessed it, now I believe he'd tell the truth to me! Actually, we rotated duty of holding the engine to escape a thunderstorm appeared to coming soon. Young men with preparedness cut plastic containers into halves ready to empty leaking infiltrated water. At 4 pm, night felt dark quickly if bad weather, all over again abrupt with high waves. Our boat turned around when no body could be able to empty water, Dizzy! Unconscious! But theirs mouths again and again everybody prayed. Young men nervously excitement emptied water which was only inches from sea level for survival. It was not too long before they became exhausted; however we needed an essential quantity of water in clinged the bottom of our boat for sticking adhesives with the mass surface water of sea level. Again one by one, a huge wave continued beating the boat side hard, splashing the water into our boat. Everyone was getting very wet, quivering. I saw the world became the color dark-grey all over, with huge dark waves precipitation coming to our boat. Rain poured hurtling with heavy drop but no one could capable to take it for resource refreshment. I could able withstand this scene, so intruded inside the boat, waiting for odd things will happen. People all were silently exhausted with unconsciousness. I felt our boat having smooth rotation down draft without striking by waves; peering outside that looking like our boat in the hollow-water with no sky, it seemed to me we were in the deep bottom of an enormous bowl, and up to upper, then nothing…no water, just like we were in the airplane in the crepuscular. But I did felt confidently by seeing the water-level-infiltrated onboard just enough for holding our boat not turn-over. But too no stricken waves! Pleased God have mercies! Now everything so quiet, no more hurtled wind, boat became stable, peoples exhausted unconsciously. Super thunderstorm subsiding.
Usually sunrise was slowly appeared when May half moon faded away, I concerned of a second sequence immediately thunderstorm after last one and ordered young men to stop emptying water. They had to rest so some water needed to keep our boat from turn-over, sinking by whirl-wind. I hoped there were no double storms as a proverb saying: “Being sunrise always after rain!” It was 3 am from my phosphorus watch. I saw clearly the Great Bear appeared brightly like a big diamond; far away from huge dark cloud Nimbostratus and the remnant-thunderstorm was going to the chain of mountains mentioned above (Palawan-Ulugan Bay)
Weather was so better than last night, why our boat not sailed faster? Because all young men tried empty all water out for lightness fast floating and the crucial goal was survival. In the sky cumulus clouds were moving so fast to the mountains, I suggested that every wrapped-sheet can be made into sailcloth…just did it! Very soon the boat sailed faster with engine maximum RPM.
After long days I was exhausted as sleeping, Tung came waking me up. Uncle Ba, there were real mountains in front of us!” I stood straight and was seeing a real beautiful copper tray like sun partly appeared from behind a top of mountains. I opened the 555 brand cigarette pack and asked men to come for a smoking celebration. The operator just borrowed the matches; he enjoyed his own stronger domestic cigar. We need the ropes, so when we reached Philippines’s ashore. Operator Hay swam to a limit marking metal white buoy to cut a robe for our convenience.
Instead of coming to a populated gulf, we entered into an uncultivated rocky area. We anchored 30 meters from a rocky mountain side and used plastic tanks to take drinking water. All my children who took many swimming lessons at Tan Son Nhat airport pool are doing well. They collected sea snails and cooked with dry woods. I found a piece of coconut meat for my two grandsons who were crying for food. We kept cooking fluid full of protein for them too. Khanh helped me to bring drinking water into our boat.
The rest children and women stayed on board, their concerns of our boat sides crashing on rocks by strong waves were over in and out before we were back. We left before dawn to avoid aggressive mosquitoes from sucking our drying source of blood. People had complained of our long landing for food but they enjoyed them too. High emotion made me tearful when I watched my grandsons attacked eating a piece of coconut meat. For avoiding lost orientation may risk-hit to the mountain rock. I decided moving the boat little far from the shore and anchored for over night wait for daytime, everyone felt made rotational duties for safety when night felt. For me, I couldn’t sleep that night because of overwhelming joy for all crew surviving that I hoped seemed like a rebirth of another life instead of karma. I rethought of so many factors which made this successful journey, included absolute secrecy by least of people involved. Now at 5,30 am, I told an operator to started engine, and heading to a bright lighted ship as big as a city and waved white peasant shirt, while closer letting children and ladies standing in front the boat for help.
The crew on big boat knew who we were because our boat very strange with two eyes in front. It was therefore they let down a rope ladder. Children, women and men climbed first. I was the last to climb. The experienced captain gave us a big meal of steamed rice and a large cooked fresh fish pan. I was full with only a small piece of fish and rice mixed with emotionally satisfaction. I self considered my responsibility was completed. The boat’s Captain was so very kind and cheerful with new unexpected guests. He playfully kidding told me “there still were 400 knots more to reach UN refugee camp!” But he led us to the rear-deck, and let me look through his binoculars at a fishing hamlet. Authorities there would help us to processing paper-work before enter Palawan Refugee Camp. Firstly I let my daughter look through his binoculars and told her: from here, Ulugang-Bay Gulf to that hamlet was only a 15 minutes trip…you feel alright!?” I thank God for her pale complexion now pinker of joy. People agreed to return to their boat only after looking through his binoculars one by one. After all they were so much confident for the next short trip.
It was a perfect day for prayer, a bright morning and in the tranquil Bay. The skies and seas were polished blue, soft winds bore silver-edged clouds, and the coastal sands gleamed white like ribbons of salt. It would have been easy to believe in some sort of heavenly power! I loved to just close my eyes and feel the sun’s rays baking my face, inhaling the scent of the ocean. Our boat engine ran with maximum speed heading directly to this hamlet. We met many sympathizing new friendly fishermen waved to welcome us being on board a strange boat that they did known, we were refugees. Right after 15 minutes, we arrived at the hamlet. People in this hamlet ran out in crowds to welcome us when we were still not ashore yet. They were Roman Catholics who thought we were same faith and gave us a lot of cloths, candies, cakes; even a whole stem of coconuts. A young police officer made a list of refugees and let me sell our boat engine for a sum enough to buy a chicken and fruits for worship. I let my operator made a workship to my soulful boat as a thanksgiving gesture. But the worship was celebrated with plenty of biscuits, oranges, chips, chocolates…and without a chicken for not chicken was raised inside a cage here. So they couldn’t catch. Everybody enjoyed the bath after two weeks and slept very well on our boat.
At 10 am next morning, a grey coast guard patrol boat of Philippines Navy came to pull our boat to their military Navy base as stipulation requested by the UN high commissioners. A small party at the Navy base hosted by a Colonel Base Commander, doctors and commanding staffs officers to welcome us. A doctor major disclosed that their ships must stay confined at the base and all of fishing boats in Ulugang Bay must stay out of the worst hurricane three days ago.
He wondered how we could survive that one with a small junk like a toy. I explained to him, we had no choice. However I thought: the factors which kept our boat stuck coherent with surface of sea level and always floating with this mass of water which occupied in lower bottom of my boat for preventing turn over after striking by high wave and sank thereafter. And finally God’s will merciful helped. He mentioned about the immense coral rocky cemetery of about 20,000 ghosts and surprised of our miracle trip let my explaining of our flat base boat made sense. He yelled his colleagues-officers come to look at and laugh loudly at my funny only equipments: a boy scout compass and a small dictionary map!
I continued to tell them about my 13 years prison time and a dead or alive trip with no choice, thanked to passenger planes which corrected our ways to this country. They listened quietly and came to shake my hands with their great admire. They also patted my shoulder and gave me their best wishes. After my story, the doctor Major had asked to exchange my watch to his Radio so he could keep it as a meaningful souvenir; I told him my watch was cheap and rusty by salted water. Another officer gave me dog meat cooked by himself but I refused to take, thinking of the same refuse when I made in malnourished prison life in the past because in that hardship, I ate all included camp rats but no dog for their extraordinary loyalty to humanity!
We slept on the colored brick floor of their large meeting room that night and had a breakfast of tasty fried eggs next morning. A colorful mini-bus came to pick up all of us around noon leading by camp commander, Lieutenant Colonel Fernandez, Mr. Bob Holland, a volunteer Australian and others Refugee High Commissioners. Lt Col Fernandez gave each of us a bottle of local San-Miguel beer which I felt drowsily drunk for only a half of its content.
I thought of almighty God that I met through our fateful lucky journey and thinking of my converting to be a Christian later. In our native language ‘faith’ means ‘way’, a way of lives. As our trip in an immense ocean experienced that ‘no faith, no way’ and ‘no way, no destination of lives’, I could never know what happened and why every event went on its own way against our plan
After a month at Palawan refugee camp, I had received a large insulated envelope of my training classes in the US by Lt Col Lawrance A. Gregorash USAF, Deputy Com. Foreign Military Training Affairs Group. A certificate of Academic Instructor Course of USAF in Maxwell University, Alabama helped me to become assistance to an English language school, offered by Catholic nun Claudita Marcon, Director of Center for Assistance to Displaced Persons. My whole family was transferred to Bataan Processing Center, sponsoring financial by US government instead of UN as of other refugee camps and administered by Mr. Herman T.Laurel and his staffs.
That was a beautiful camp with large green hills, a spring streaming encircled and a lovely artificial chain-hanging-bridge. It consisted of 12 Neighborhoods stretching far up to 6 kilometers length, two crowded market places. One situated at Neighborhood no 5 and one, at no 10. A Catholic Church and a Buddhist temple; About 18,000 refugees had waited for US turns to be immigrated, included many Ameriasians during the most 1988-1989.
Blue-Guard of Major Lopez controlled of security of the camp. There was rumor of a corrupted Lopez who gave protection to an illegal gang who then paid him and his unit a large shared-sum of profits.
Our community composed an Inter-Neighborhood Chairman, his assistances of Laotian and Cambodian representatives. Each neighborhood had an elected leader. We had an ARVN Veteran Association which I was elected as Chairman of about more than 400 members due to for my longest Communist prison time. Soon later, I was elected Chairman of Inter-Neighborhood as well to the period the former chairman left for immigration. The situation of the Camp was worse insecurity, Buddhist monks and Catholic priests as well as retired Col Banson, internal assistance of the camp complained of illegal activities like robberies by violence, intimidation. A notorious violent gang ‘Dung Great Eagle’ such as thieves, robberies that JVA delegation had many time reported so much accusation for those matters. The most intolerable case, in general such as a certain refugee who received checks from abroad. As a spontaneous officer that I thought, had given me that conviction, I reported this worst situation to my staff and our Veteran Association and received their full supports to recovering a well formed activity. It was however my children strongly rejected my effort concerning for our own safer immigration in US sooner. But I stubbornly went on to carry out last try of my endless struggle life this time for 18,000 native victims who had voted for me in protecting them, and depended on me, and me alone!

(continued)

[vinhtruong]

My Spy Pilot Life

Mr. Banson was so exciting to help me restored in camp security and to ease his own American colleagues who had so many times in same complaints as ours, especially about security at night. I asked to borrow 10 buses as a transport mean for my 400 veterans moved from 10th to 5th Neighborhood, 10 walking-talking communicators, and recording broadcasting my stated notice to 18,000 refugees before our gang-ending operation began. Mr. Branson absolutely agreed but it should be informed to Major Lopez for avoiding mistaken shootings because I doubted about Lopez’s collaboration so I must indeed need a referring order notice from Mr. Banson and discussed with him about my operation plan: I will show to Major Lopez this order notice at 11:45 and let 10 buses parked at 10th Neighborhood. My voice notice was broadcasting at 12 (midnight) only 15 minutes in advance of the operation, and requesting people staying at home meanwhile we eradicated the Dung Big Eagle Gang.
I came to administration staff residence at 11:45 pm. He looked like waiting someone else, not me. There was a large brownie Lopez under bright yellow electric lights there! I politely saluted him and gave him Mr. Banson’s note. He was smiling broader after reading it and looked at me in investigation “are you going to catch robbers?” I said all I did was just for my people and asked him to borrow a shackles hanging on the wall for a gang leader and promised to return it to him 45 minutes later. Lopez stretched out to the shackles, gave it to me in a despised laughter: Probably not that so easy!” As a same time, I’d heard my voice broadcasting all over the Camp:" From this minute, please all of you stay at home…”
During that operation, I saw a 16 years old Ameriasian boy who was pleading for joint with us catching Dung’s gang members. We caught all of them at the first place and from that boy I had information of the gang leader ‘Big Eagle’ who was hiding with his two bodyguards ‘Blue-Guard’ inside an ESL classroom. I handcuffed him without a fight. When he was leading out of the hiding place, the Amerisian-boy hit him with a wooden bar hard enough having his bloody back for his crime of robbing the boy’s sister, having her naked for searching.
I brought them to Neighborhood No 2 for paper-work investigation. It’s being absolutely, an undercover American security agent in JVA took them pictures. Lopez later came with PRPC members. I returned back the shackles to him and excused for late return. He took it with his angrily face.
Gang leader Dung was severe injured with deep wounds on his back caused by nails, showing up his tattoo dark Big Eagle in his chest. He and his gang must be appeared on a trial tomorrow. When I asked him if he hate me so much, He responded: I respected you…uncle, a long time prisoner of the Communist and a refugee like me, but I’d doing gang again after you leave here!”
On April 30th 1989 as annual usually every year in this day, anti-communist community had organized a meeting with dummy Ho’s burning. As a community and veteran leader, I had to read a speech written by my general secretary. This duty made me understanding about politic, subordinate country’s politic which was only a negative meaning of slavery for a super power whatsoever; A group of political opportunists pressed me to challenge to the power of PRPC’s authority, for what cause that I didn’t understand, and what for? I flatly had to turn down every approach that they suggested. As my duty job for our people, I had refused special food ration delivery direct to my family, just to be fair and straightforward in inspecting food distributed by local traders who had earned big profits on refugees’ lost. Spoiled meat, rotten fish, vegetables, bananas…usually were put under half lower part of baskets which were required to be replaced at once or next day on my personal request.
I even let few of my staff members who against with me because their diplomatical opportunist, intimidated to publish my mistakes on newsletters just went ahead to do so without any concern. These opportunist-diplomat themselves had lectured me a lesson of smart selfishness on gang issue that I ignored to listen to. With many years in Communist prison, I was not feared of any blaming game bestowed by my own uneasy comrades. Their short prison term made them collaborators of criminals, for examples some tragedies such as: A group of 52 people whose boat was drifted months in the ocean with a young man named Minh who urged people to kill another passenger for meat by fate drawing game during there was a dead human body inside his boat. A former female Lt Hoa and Lt Col Xuan on that boat obediently collaborated to his crime.- A father holding steady his daughter 6 years old, when his boat sank on submerge coral island, a sudden strong wave coming causing coral rock cutting her arm away her body, both father and daughter were spinning perished in the deep sea floor.- 5 years old girl ate her own dead sloughs from her scabies was the only survivor be rescue by another boat. And so many cases of other true disasters of boat people stories whose contents were so horrible that no movie maker dared to film, no actor dared to act, no writer dared to write! Why?
A new word was added to dictionary: “Boat People”, another word for just political propaganda. Another tragedy and voting ‘on foot’ in a world who wins who political campaign. A stratagem in the Indochina, they invested a good money for propaganda with perfect good movie such as “We Want Lives”, starred by famous actor Le Quynh was produced for a million refugees from certain limited period and short distance from North to South Việtnam in 1954 with single horrible scene of a artificial shark bitten a man leg to motivate a good anti-communist’ stratagem propaganda with technical assistance advised by Philippines experts.
Why, now not so many horrible scenes in real boat people refugee throughout Pacific Ocean had been ignored neglectable to restorative? Said we double ‘Why’?
There was no surprise of a promise from H.Kissinger to Hanoi “a full diplomatic relationship through issues of pretext “Agent Orange and MIA” When great power still needed the subordinate political opportunists. No Nationalist-Communist boundary any more when new regime members can do everything here in the US, financially as well as politically. And the old political label ‘Anti-Communist’ was already expired in forgetful and nobody buy it.
I was interviewed by Chuck Lee of US representative Tom Ridge’s delegation in a US Congress mission to Bataan for Ameriasian immigration program. My picture with Legis Fellow also was taken by his request for his delegation report to the Congress.
- Why there were Gangs all over refugee camps but not in your camp? Lee asked.
- No suspect was arrested without court subpoena in the land of Liberty Lady (USA)! Over here…no suspect can escape in this land around by jungle, because there are so many stories that our people and veteran issued no court warrant! We used lawlessness-violable method suppressed against them! I proudly answered him.
Chuck Lee smiled with great understanding and promised to meet me again in the US.
Two months later in November 1989, I met Chief staff administrator Chuck Lee through my sponsor, Marine Col Norman H, Vreeland and US Representative Congress Tom Ridge of Ameriasian Program at his office in the Capitol, who had bestowed me a letter of recommendation from the US Congress that calling me a ‘real-hero’ that my own conscience was very hesitated to accept and even having question about that two words ‘real-hero’.
On the way back home, I directly asked him, my marine Col. Sponsor:
“With 4,422 shameful days and nights as a defeated prisoner of war in Communist prisons, what left for being called real hero?”
Col Vreeland immediately answered:
“ A real hero dared to destroy Gangs, When you left for US resettlement, your successor, Mr. (name deleted) was assaulted by the Gangs who broke his shins with its wide opened marrow by a heavy metal bar severed enough that later he was settled in Buffalo, NY as an eternal disable person or handicap

Therein the letter recommendation of ….

To look for and to reassemble the broken pieces of America's conscience that were left behind and forgotten....
I was survived the war perhaps better than many of us who served there, I was older when I went, had studied the country and the conflict for years, was in some ways more prepared for the experience. And I was lucky that I was in battles, saw men die, lost good friends to the enemy was wounded and to myself. But I did not have to endure as much as many others did, and carried in Unites States less pain from the war than some others though I was POW for 13 years. There was one pain that only began after I escaped Viet Nam, and that was the shame that grew over the years after 1975. It was then that I saw the slow abandonment of the Republic of Viet Nam to the might of a massive Northern conscript army equipped by the Soviets with mountains of supplies, while the ARVN supplies ran lower and lower as Congress choked off the flow year by year.
Many American-Vets recall the ARVN as not being a good ally and in truth South Viet Nam, its government, and its military had many problems. There was poor training and leadership in some units, there was corruption in the upper officer corps, there were even Viet Cong sympathizers in the ranks, along with drafted men who were not well motivated to fight. But there were also some really good units, which fought hard, like the Airborne, Marine, Helicopter air assault, and Rangers that had part of the line at Khe Sanh beside the US Marines. And fight they did, there was a major invasion of the South in '72, nothing remotely guerrilla about it, 200,000 NVA regulars with modern tanks, excellent Russian artillery, and antiaircraft missiles. Horrendous battles went on for months, including a siege of An Loc that was like the Alamo, except even though was largely overrun, the South Vietnamese soldiers hung on like bulldogs and eventually won the day.
But for years, I heard the stories about the RVN soldiers who could not leave Viet Nam, as some others were fortunate enough to do. They are marked for their past patriotic service, and suffer various kinds of discrimination that makes life more difficult. And of these, the worst off are the disabled ones, those veterans who suffered major injuries, lost arms, legs, eyes, hearing, and health. They receive no pension, there are few if any jobs for them, their lives are terribly hard. The thought of this suffering, going on for decade after decade under the revengeful Hanoi government bothered me greatly and I could no longer avoid thinking about it.
Now, I am American and these men are Vietnamese, but we shared in the fight for freedom, and I feel we are related somehow. They are my countrymen, now former allies who are hungry, and sick, and worried every day about how they can go on. I want to help them, last year I sold my book for fundraising and a small charity has been started, called the Vietnam Healing Foundation, to raise some money for them. We will do what I can, and the good news is that a dollar goes a long way in Viet Nam. I will go back again one day, to find more, and give more help. It will not be enough, but I believe it is an important duty to give something back to these men, the betrayed, the neglected, and the forgotten. To make them feel remembered, and recognized for their sacrifice, and to give them another day's food is all so worthwhile that I thank heaven for the chance to do it. And when you get up in the morning, always recall that you live in freedom, which, like air, we can take for granted, but would miss terribly if it were no longer ours

THE END
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