I stood up feeling very unbalanced, my head was throbbing. I began to think about all the different people I would meet over the next three weeks, and how I was ever going to get through it and complete the task in hand.
It was a steamy Thursday evening and after a long and bumpy ride in a worn out taxi, we arrived at a hotel in Saigon. Both Terry and I were pouring with sweat and threw our bags onto our beds. The apartment wasn’t very clean, the walls were murky green in colour and all it contained were two uncomfortable steel framed beds and a shared bathroom along the hallway. “Right, I’m turning in, I’m guessing your not that tired after the plane journey here.” Terry said whilst plumping his pillow. “Yeah, I’m gonna go down to the bar for a bit.” I said. “Alright then, see you tomorrow nice and early, night Alf.” Terry said sleepily. “Yeah…night.” I replied
Whilst I descended the stairs, the noise of excited GI’s grew closer. I walked over and sat at the bar. They went quiet for a moment. “Hey mate! You don’t look like you’re from round here, where you from?” “New York.” I answered. “You don’t look like a GI…what’s your business in Vietnam?” grunted a second GI. “I’m a photographer.” I said “Gonna be flying somewhere near Hanoi early tomorrow morning, what’s it to you anyways?” “I ain’t asking for no trouble, just asking alright?” he answered “Yeah…sorry, what’s been going on today then?” I asked “Well we’ve just got back from Dien Bien Phu, which is on the border of North Vietnam. Boy we’ve taken some crap today.” “Really?” I said. “Yeah…not a pretty sight, I’m sick of seeing death everywhere, not too good a feeling, or smell to start off with, but you get used to it after a few weeks.” explained the third GI sitting at the bar. “I think I can imagine.” I replied. The guys started talking amongst themselves again, so after that brief conversation with them, I had a couple more beers and went up to bed.
“Terry, Terry you awake yet?” I asked “Yeah I’ll be up in a bit” Terry replied grumpily. I slowly emerged from the bed and went over to the apartment window, I looked out and I could see run down buildings, looking like some backstreet of New York. Four in the morning and it was off back to the airport to board a military helicopter and head towards the Hanoi area.
We started to take off, with the weather being as hot as it could be. Two minutes had past and we were already five hundred feet high above the jungle canopy and heading towards our target area. My stomach started churning due to the fact we were getting very close to Hanoi and I didn’t feel prepared for it.
Suddenly an urgent radio message came through from Military HQ telling us our flight plan had been aborted, and that we were being diverted to a rescue mission further North in Lao Cai. A group of GI’s had been surrounded by the gook’s in a local village. The helicopter gained speed towards the location given. Adrenalin was running high amongst all on board as we hurtled at break neck pace over the paddy fields and jungle areas.
Finally we reached our destination to see a burning village just ahead. The helicopter circled twice before finding what seemed a reasonable clearing for us to touch down. As we descended, trees rustled and the sound of screaming children could be heard. As soon as the blades had slowed down sufficiently, the crew excluding the pilot ran off towards the group of GI’s who were struggling not only with their own wounded, but with a young Vietnamese woman and a baby girl. They were barely able to walk having both suffered shell shock and shrapnel injuries. Terry and I immediately ran over to help and finally we were all aboard the helicopter much to the pilot’s relief.
Within seconds we were back in the sky with a stream of shells and machine gun fire following us. Everybody was ordered to hit the deck as bullets passed through the fuselage of the aircraft.
Three hours later we arrived at Saigon Airport with an ambulance waiting to take the injured to Saigon Hospital.
Lying in bed on a beautiful Sunday morning in Virginia in the year1972, thinking back to those days sitting in the hospital waiting for news on how Ha`ng and little Tuyen, the Vietnamese family who we’d rescued back in 1968, were getting on. A nurse greeting Terry and I in the waiting room telling us they would be fit and ready to go home in a few days. The only trouble was, they had no home to go back to.
But here I am now and my bedroom door opens, in walks my beautiful little girl clutching her mother’s hand singing Happy Birthday Daddy. She runs over and jumps onto the bed and gives me a big kiss as I say “Thank you for remembering Tuyen!”
