“I was still stunned by the loss of the only money we had.  My wife, however, retained her calm and only said “Quien sera, sera,” which means “what will be will be.”

After four days of speeding full ahead, stopping only to pick up other refugees, the Chinese commander convened all of us on deck and asked where we wanted to go.  Did we want to go to Taiwan or to the U.S.?  Our group of 850 refugees divided into two, 150 Chinese fishermen chose Taiwan, and 700 Vietnamese chose the U.S.  Having made a life changing decision, our ship sailed for Subic Bay in the Philippines. 

We arrived there on a hot day.  I was not in good shape.  I had contracted conjunctivitis in both eyes and they were swollen completely shut.  I could see almost nothing and had to rely on my wife to take the children in hand.  To make matters worse, I stepped on a metal tent stake and my foot began to bleed profusely.  The next day I was disabled.  I waited miserably while my wife completed the paper work necessary for processing us into the U.S. 

Finally, the “great day” came and my family was processed for admission into the U.S.  For the next two months, we lived in military barracks with approximately 30,000 other Vietnamese refugees.  Every day we lined up for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  The food was mostly dried eggs, fish, vegetables, and rice.  Some days, if we “got lucky,” chicken was served.  I remember my six-year old son Tri running all over our building screaming “Hurry up, you guys!  We’re having chicken tonight!”  Hurry up was right because if you were late, the chicken would be gone.

Daily life in camp was boring and we could not leave the area until our security clearances were completed.  While we waited, we learned more English and taught English to our children.  Some of us volunteered to work as interpreters and translators, or helped cook in the kitchen.  We all waited for a sponsor to come forward to take us out into the “mainstream.”

Finally, the big day came.  We were being sponsored by St. Richard’s Catholic Church in Richfield, MN.  Our first month in the Twin Cities was difficult for us, as we had to adjust to a new environment, a new life, and a new society. 

After three weeks of searching, my wife took a job as a seamstress in a drapery factory and I got work as a nursing assistant in a hospital.  Our motto was “no job is too small and HARD WORK pays off!”  We were glad to be able to support ourselves and were willing to sacrifice a lot for our children.  Frankly speaking, as “old timers,” we didn’t worry about our future, but only about the future of our children.

The thing that has made us the happiest has been to see all three of our children grow up to be college graduates and genuinely good people who contribute to the community and society.  As I look over my life, I can only say, “Alas!” for the future that destiny had in store for us.  The way I see it, many of our dreams have already been fulfilled.”

My insert:  June 2010 – Since those fateful days, my family and I have gone through a lot – good, bad, and otherwise.  My parents had to sacrifice everything to give my brothers and me a chance at a better life.  It took me a long time to appreciate it, but I do.  I truly do.  Would I have gone through what my parents did to give my kids a better life than that of a country torn by war?  I look at my kids who are about the same ages as my brothers and I when we left Vietnam.  I look in their big, brown eyes and think to myself, “Yes, I most definitely would.”

“In preparation to flee, my family had cooperated with a small number of close friends to buy a fishing boat to help us escape.  Our wives and children moved to the interior of the boat where they were packed in like sardines while the husbands stayed out on the open deck. 

We weren’t really thinking about leaving permanently because the idea of leaving our parents or siblings behind was unthinkable.  But we also understood that it was dangerous to live under communist control, especially if you had cooperated with the American government.  We knew we would be among the first to go to prison if the communists succeeded in taking over the south.

Early on the morning of April 30^th, 1975, we planned to return to the hospital to get supplies because our kids were beginning to get sick from being kept in such close quarters.  There were 67 people on our boat.   At 7:30 a.m., just as we were leaving the boat, 122-mm rockets began to rain on the city.  Nearby, the rockets directly hit two small boats.  Another rocket hit about 150 yards behind our boat, splashing us with water from the discharge.  Our faces showed our panic and we began moving out of the area as quickly as we could, not even bothering to raise the anchor.

After several minutes of running out into the harbor, we spotted a Vietnamese ship and set a course for it.  But as we neared it, the sailors would not allow us to get on board and fired shots over our heads to warn us off.  We were terrified but I told my wife, “If we are going to live, we will live together.  If we are going to die, let us die together.”  Together, we covered our children with our bodies.

Later, we were picked up by a Taiwanese ship that was used to transport Chinese refugees from Central Vietnam to South Vietnam.  At first, the Chinese captain wanted to only take the ethnic Chinese families on his ship, but we argued and I convinced him that we were political refugees and he finally agreed to let us on board.”

(My insert:  my mom’s family owned loose, precious jewels in Vietnam.  Prior to fleeing, my parents grabbed a bunch of those jewels.  They were going to sell them and use the money to support our family until they could find work.  My dad placed the jewels into a small sack that he wore tied around his arm).

“After we were on board, I discovered that the small purse which contained my wife’s jewels was gone. I was stunned at the loss since it was the only money we had…”

So many people ask me, “What’s your background?”  or “What’s your history?”  Many people think I was born in the United States.  Many, however, have very little knowledge of my family history.  It is this history that makes me who I am today.  Occasionally, I have to ask my parents about our past because I never want to forget where I came from or what my parents went through to get us here. 

One of the best gifts my dad has given me is a booklet called Generally Speaking – Asian and American Perspectives on Modernism and the American Experience.  In that booklet, my dad recounts his experience of the Vietnam War in an article called “Escape to America:  The Journey of a Vietnamese Officer and his Family.”  I cannot re-tell the story the way that dad can so I offer up his story – an excerpt of his own words about who we are and where we come from.

 “When I graduated from the School of Dentistry at the University of Saigon in 1961, my dream was to further my post-graduate education in either the U.S. or France.  Unfortunately, war was ravaging in Vietnam and I had to postpone my dream while I served my people and country in the war against the communists from the north.

During the last two weeks of the war, my wife was working for the U.S. government while I was assigned to the military hospital in Vung Tau.  Each night after dinner, my wife and I listened to the BBC radio.  It was a nerve-racking time and we existed through sleepless nights.  The war was not going well for the Vietnamese forces.

Friends of ours urged us to be calm.  They were confident that the ongoing negotiations between the north and south would be successful and that the two sides in the conflict would soon reach a cease-fire agreement.  We would not be calmed, however.  All around us, people were fleeing south.

My assistants at the hospital shared my concern.  As non-commissioned officers, they did not have much to worry about, but I was a high-ranking officer and, with a wife who worked for the U.S. Government, they knew that my family would be treated harshly.  As events unfolded, this was proven true:  all my professional friends who stayed behind were sent to “Re-education” camps for periods lasting as long as seven years.

On April 28, 1975, two days before the “fall of Saigon,” we were still working and living in Vung Tau.  Late in the day, the Vietnamese Navy issued a 24-hour curfew and ordered their forces to be ready for evacuation.  The streets of the city were deserted and calm, a calm so unnerving that you could tell something dreadful was about to happen.  That night, the Co May Bridge that connected the neighboring city of Baria to Vung Tau was destroyed by the communists…