A series of attempts and failures in trying to escape not only damaged the
boat owner’s reputation; it also and in general made the customers suspect the
honesty of the boat owner. They no longer trusted him. Thus, the worst thing for
him was that they required him to refund what they had “contributed” - 2 ounces
of gold - for each attempt to flee overseas as boat people. They didn’t care
about what the boat owner’s expenses had been during each attempt to escape, and
did not count the cost of building or buying a boat large and powerful enough
for such a dangerous and risky journey:
. Before each attempt to flee overseas, the boat owner had to do the following:
1. “buy” security for the boat itself and for passengers. The boat owner spent
10 ounces of gold for such bribes at many coastguard stations from Saigon to
Vung Tau. In addition, he spent money for the police who acted as go-betweens
for him and officers at the coastguard stations;
2. pay for food and drinking water necessary for at least 2 weeks for all
passengers while on the high seas;
3. pay for small boats – water taxis - to bring passengers to the boat;
4. buy necessary gasoline and oil for a long trip.
. During each attempt to escape, the boat owner had to guarantee any
expenditures that came out of the blue.
Because of all these factors, and after the previous twelve failures, I put my
best effort into it and exhausted all my resources for the 13th attempt. I even
went to meet Mr. Tran, the diviner who, this time, forewarned about several
things that might happen to me personally, and that made Mr. Remy, my friend,
and myself more anxious and uncomfortable. The following were some of his
forewarnings:
1. I might miss the journey for some reason or other.;
2. I might get into some accident in traffic that could delay or postpone the
journey;
3. I might confront many contradictions and difficulties on the high seas;
4. And the worst of all an accident or whatever it could be about my own “life
or death.”
Anyway, thank God, this was the last and successful one for 162 passengers and
for myself.
***
Sunday the 24th of July 1983 was the day the trip was organized. The big boat started from the boat repair factory, Tan Lap, near the Tan Thuan Bridge. Gas, drinking water and food were prepared two days in advance. The policemen had already received their bribes. The pilot was entrusted with the duty to take the boat to White Light pole in Vung Tau. [On the River of Saigon to the sea entrance at Vung Tau, there were many obstacles, e.g. fishing nets, sprawl raking nets, etc. A specialist pilot was required for the risky journey. Such a pilot was absolutely necessary both to avoid these obstacles and to signal the three coastguard stations.]
The passengers gathered in groups, walking leisurely, and calmly waiting for
the water taxi, in an attempt to hide their worries and not be discovered. The
schedule was that, from the Bach Dang Port at 4 P.M, the customers had to follow
the “taxi boat driver” who would drive them to Cot Den Do in between the Tan
Thuan Bridge and the coast guard station in the Nha Be district. Mr. Remy Hien’s
family, the boat owner, and some of his relative passengers, were supposed to be
at Tan Lap at 5 :00 P.M. on that day and to be hidden on the boat. Time set for
the boat departure was 7:00 P.M.
Around 3:00 P.M. I rode my Honda, which belonged to Brother Gregoire Tan and
circled Bach Dang port to gauge the scene. All groups of passengers were ready
to go. I returned to Tan Lap around 4:30 P.M., and checked again. Everything
seemed OK, and nothing had changed. [Brother Gregoire and I had decided that,
if everything ran smoothly, we had to meet one another at a coffee kiosk at 6:30
P.M., i.e. 30 minutes before departure time.]
Close to five in the afternoon, Tin, a friend of mine, who was supposed to bring
Hien’s family to the boat repair factory Tan Lap and to join a group of
passengers waiting for the water taxi, drove up carrying a girl. I asked him,
“Why did you come here and who is this girl?” Tin said that she was his
girlfriend and he wished to get onto the boat with her. I got mad and yelled,
“What’s wrong with you? This is not according to the plan. You were supposed to
go on the small “taxi boat.” Where is Hien’s family?” Tin said he didn’t know—
which made me angrier. “You don’t know? We have agreed that you carry Mr. Hien’s
wife and his son onto the boat, and you were supposed to take a water taxi to
the Red Light pole. Now, you brought your girlfriend and left Mr. Hien’s family
behind. Oh! oh! Go back to Thu Duc and pick them up, immediately!” He refused. I
told him “We cannot depart without Mr. Hien’s family. OK! I’ll go to Thu Duc to
pick them up.”
Suddenly, the sky darkened with ominous clouds. I hopped on my Honda and drove
like crazy to Thu Duc, worrying the whole time about Hien and his family. When I
passed Binh Trieu Bridge, it started raining, heavily. When I got closer to Go
Dua bridge, the Honda broke down. I got off it, turned it to neutral and
attempted to push it so it could re-start, but to no avail. The rain continued
to pour, furiously, and I continued to sweat profusely, not out of the effort
exerted on the Honda but out of my worry for Hien’s family and for the time of
departure. I said to myself, “My God, all hope is lost. Have pity on me, God,
and on people who might have to wait for me on the time to depart.” I thought of
the people already on the big boat, waiting nervously for it to finally leave.
These images made me desperately worry. I started going crazy and grabbed the
handlebars of the Honda and pushed furiously towards Hien’s family home at Phuoc
Tuong Phat. My body was dampened by the sweat and rain.
I suddenly heard sounds behind me and saw a dim light. Much to my delight, a
tricycle approached. The rider offered me help with my Honda. I took a seat and
we both rode as fast as possible towards Phuoc Tuong Phat. Arriving at Hien’s
family home, I rushed into the house and saw Mrs. Ba, Tuyet and Truong eating
dinner. I neglected to even say hello, and asked right away, “Where are Mr. Hien,
Nguyet and little Hien.” All three were wide eyed and surprised. Tuyet said that
they had already left. I asked, “Where did they go? I didn’t see anyone of them
come to the boat.” Tuyet answered quickly, “They left already at 3 P.M.” I
asked, “Who took them there?” Tuyet was surprised and said, “Mr. Tin was
supposed to pick them up there, right?” I replied, “Yes! But he brought only his
girlfriend to the boat around 4 P.M. I asked him, ‘Where is Mr. Hien’s family?’
He replied that he didn’t know. That’s why I came here.”
At this time, I saw tears come down from Mrs. Ba’s eyes. I knew exactly what was
going through her head and felt the worry that had overcome her, not knowing
where Mr. Hien’s family was. I kept asking myself and wondering where they could
be. I had devised a very precise plan, and now everything was about to fall
apart.
The tricycle rider from earlier who had helped me with my Honda unloaded it and
left without asking me for any payment. The neighbors, Uncle Seventh and Uncle
Eighth, heard the noise in front of Mrs. Ba’s house and came to ask what was
going on. I breathed out a hopeless sigh and told them to ask Mrs. Ba. Tuyet
raised her voice and told me that it was already too late and nothing could be
accomplished by trying to leave at this point. I looked at my watch and saw
“6:30P.M.” I replied, “Even though it is late, I still have to go or at least
try.” I asked Uncle Seventh and Uncle Eighth to drive me to the boat on their
Honda. Uncle Eighth volunteered. I went to say goodbye to Mrs. Ba and everyone
else and told Tuyet that I would leave the Honda, which belonged to Brother
Gregoire Tan, and that he will come by to pick it up some other time.
While sitting in the back of Uncle Eighth’s Honda, I felt my stomach on fire,
knowing I was late but yet not being able to do anything about it. Uncle Eighth
appeared perfectly calm. I felt uneasy. I wanted him to go faster and asked him
to do so. He answered calmly, “Driving slowly is much safer, or else we risk the
police stopping us or worse, an accident.” I had no choice but to sit still. As
we got closer to the boat, I told Uncle Eighth to stop the Honda and park it in
front of the Glass Maker Company in order to watch from a distance what was
going on around the boat. I walked quietly to the boat and stayed about 15
meters away.
Dusk came and all I could think about was heading straight to the boat. I didn’t
think about anything else. As I approached the gate, someone tapped my shoulder,
startling me. It was a policeman who was in charge of directions. His name was
Dua. The pilot of the boat had been waiting for a while. He cursed at me for
making him wait for so long. “You said 7 P.M! Look, what time it is now!” I
tried to keep calm and asked if we still had time to leave. The policeman
answered, “What are you waiting for then?” I said, “Let’s go!” As I got onto the
boat, Si and Tu, Mr. Hien’s two little brothers and a group of passengers hidden
inside the boat had been waiting for me.
To be honest, my mind was kind of paralyzed and empty. Someone shouted, “What do
we do now, Brother Seventh?” [Because I used fake papers, I had to change my
name into Hien and nickname, Mr. Seventh.] My reaction was like an automatic
robot conditioned by I didn’t really know what. “Start the engine!” I ordered
Bao, the mechanic, to start the engine. I then commanded Si and Tu, “Pull the
anchor up” without realizing who was on board the boat and who would be missing
the trip. I said, “Let’s go!” and the policeman pilot steered the boat, and we
were off. The boat was heading to Vung Tau. The sound of the engine roared and
moved slowly in that direction. We passed the Tan Thuan Bridge. Because of the
rain or the fog, the pilot’s vision was blurred. He broke the window glass just
to help him see through. The sounds of the broken glass made me snap out of it,
and then I realized that the boat had actually departed. Before approaching the
gathering point that was set at the Red Light pole, there was a small river boat
coming behind us. The policeman on the boat’s name was Tai. He called out to me,
“Mr. Seventh, let someone come get more food and gas for the boat.”
Five minutes later, I heard several noises surrounding the boat. It was the
sound of many smaller boats approaching ours. The pilot slowly steered forward.
People from the smaller boats tried to jump onto ours, creating a very noisy and
uncontrollable scene. I ran to the front of the boat and tried to help as many
people I could get on, even though I didn’t know that some of them ought not to
have been allowed on. [These people were not on the list of passengers,
i.e. they profited of the occasion to get on any boat to flee overseas, “free”
of charge and without contribution, and of course without the boat owner’s
knowledge. This happened many times before, when people started looking for a
way to escape.]To my surprise Mr. Hien, the boat owner, his wife and his son
were on one of the small boats. I was so happy to see little Hien, Nguyet and
Mr. Hien, and quickly pulled them into the cabin of the boat.
I heard the screaming voice of Mr. Dua, the policeman, trying to pull and push
some of the people around and attempting to calm the scene down. He yelled,
“None of you are authorized to be on this boat!” The boat sped up and left
behind many small boats. It was a sad sight to see so many people get left
behind for the sake of safety, but at least the scene calmed. Dua told to me,
“Even though we’ve already paid the government officials/station managers, we
still have to keep low profile. There are too many people on this boat and we
still might be caught.” I put a large tarpaulin over that section where most of
the passengers convened to try and hide some people from being seen.
Nearing the Nha Be checkpoint station, Mr. Dua called me to jump onto the cabin.
He got the flashlight and flickered it three times. The station responded and
signaled that we didn’t have to stop for inspection. What a relief. Mr. Dua was
pleased and told me, “See, do you believe in me, now? I did conduct a very well
organized passage here many times.” I felt relief when I heard this as well.
While sitting above the cabin and talking with Mr. Dua, I finally tried to get
to know him. He revealed that he was twenty-five years old. He seemed like an
honest man. I said to him, “You have done this several times, maybe one day, or
even today, you should go with us?” He replied, “I’m not prepared for this time.
I still have a family back home and will probably wait till the next journey.”
As I reclined on the roof of the cabinet, I fell asleep. Si, little brother of
the boat owner, came to wake me up and was in a bit of a hurry. “Brother
Seventh, something is wrong! There is a lot of water leaking into the boat!” Mr.
Dua and I ran down into the engine room. One of the switches/buttons had
exploded, causing all the water to spray everywhere. We tried to use the rags to
plug the holes but the water was too strong and we could not stop it from
getting in. Mr. Dua looked like he had experience with this situation. He told
to me to look for a little sweet potato piece and pushed it through the hole and
it should stop the leaking. Of course the battery and generator shorted by the
water as well and therefore, the water pump was completely damaged. In addition,
the water seeped through the seam of the boat’s hull.. Perhaps it was from the
collision with the canoes and small boats earlier.
The boat had passed Dong Tranh station, entered the Long Tao River and
approached the White Light pole, signaling that we had passed the dangerous area
and had safely gotten to the ocean. Mr. An Ngo, the backup pilot, whistled me
over to talk. He said the main pilot could not be found on the boat. I was
shocked to hear that and asked him how something like this could happen. He
said, “Perhaps last night, you came late and he was waiting for you for too long
and thought the plan was off, or maybe he stood at the front gate of the boat
repair factory waiting for you, and when you entered, he didn’t see you.” In
these few seconds, I tried to concentrate on what I should do now. I instructed
him not to tell anyone of this and act like the main pilot, in order not to make
any of the passengers nervous. I told him to call Mr. Thanh, another backup
pilot, to help him.
Before we had reached the White Light pole, last step to be on the ocean, Mr. Dua walked with me to the end of the boat. He was preparing to get off. I thanked him for controlling the boat for the past seven or eight hours, and said to the policeman pilot who was to transfer the steering wheel to Mr. An Ngo, “Thank you! Great pilot! Very good job you have done!” He said, “You’re welcome. I am used to this. I wish you and everyone on this boat the best of luck.” Mr. Dua said, “Goodbye. Now that everything looks safe,” then pointing to my bicycle, he continued, “I am wondering if I could have your bicycle.” I said to him, “Absolutely! And thank you! I hope to see you and your family, somewhere, in another free country!” [While I was at the Palawan Camp, I was told that the policeman had organized the last trip successfully and amazingly in company of the main pilot, Mr. Thanh and Mr. Tin whom I had involuntarily left behind. They landed in Hong Kong.] We shook hands and laughed. As he carried the bicycle, he stepped down into the small boat and released the rope and began to slowly move back from my vision. It was out 4 A.M. of July 25, 1983 and the boat was about to enter the high seas. So, that night, we survived many worries, stresses and frightening moments.
***
Monday July 25th, 1983.
Even though the boat was only at the Long Tao River and was about to enter the
ocean through Cap Vung Tau, I knew this journey would make it to its
destination. I pulled off the tarp from earlier, in an attempt to make the
passengers feel a bit easier and lighten the mood. Everyone seemed happy. The
boat calmly moved across the river and away from the land. It appeared as if the
near future was bright.
The sun had risen up over the sea. It was a beautiful panorama. There was a
group of strange young men on the boat who some believed were unauthorized or
jumped on from the smaller boats. This group gathered at the rear of the boat
and was talking amongst each other. Younger Bao, one of 7 sailors who had been
living on the boat for more than 2 years, approached me and whispered to me “I
heard that the group over there was hatching a plan to sabotage this boat and
bring it back to land.” I jumped and turned around to take a look at them and
saw them pointing at me. Teacher Thuc, the boat co-owner, told to me, “It
appears as if they want take over the boat.”
I whispered to younger Bao to go and gather a group of men around me and to find
some sort of weapons in case force was necessary. Minutes later, four young
people circled behind me, and we approached the front of the boat and took
another look at the group of young men who everyone thought were planning the
sabotage. I addressed the whole group, speaking loudly enough so that the group
of young men in the back could hear. “We have been blessed and are extremely
lucky to even get where we are. If we return now, the officials will surely
execute us. If we carry on, we are also susceptible to danger. Whoever wants to
go back should just jump off the boat and swim back. If you want to have a
chance to live, then stay and remain calm.” I angrily looked around to see
people’s reactions. I said to the pilot, “Keep going in our direction and go
even faster.” The group of strange young men gradually dispersed elsewhere on
the boat.
Dawn was approaching. The homeland was not visible any longer. The ocean looked
calm. There were a few small waves, but I was totally relieved. I sat down to
try and get some rest. Most of “sailors” committed to the boat for over 2 years
had stayed up all night trying to remove excess water from the hold of the boat.
They were exhausted and some of them sat next to me. One of them said, “We are
so tired. Can you ask someone to help us remove excess water from below, because
of the leaking along the boat?” I was thinking of that matter for a while and
wanted to ask that particular group of young men from earlier to help. I thought
of Mr. Le, whom I knew as a very crafty speaker, to ask these young men.
I came up with a plan. I stood up in the middle of the boat and looked around. I
whispered to young Bao to rush from inside the engine room and to yell, “There
is too much water down here! If we don’t get help, the boat will surely sink. We
need as much help as we can!” I cut him off mid-sentence and said, “Forget about
it; if the boat sinks, we all sink together. You, young friends and sailors, who
have been working all night, take a rest now. Those who want to live, go down
there.” The group of young men peeked into the engine room and saw all of the
water leaking. They had no reaction, but I believed they started to worry.
Mr. Le stood up and walked into the engine room. He shouted at this group, “Are
you just going to stand and watch? Give them a hand or we’re all dead!” All
young men were divided into small groups of 4 and in turns worked to help. After
this, the leak problem was solved.
It was about 6 A.M. The sun had begun to appear above the ocean floor. The sky
turned a pink/red color. It gave us a rare chance to appreciate where we were
and gave us all a feeling that we finally had achieved freedom. All face looked
hopeful and confident, and it made them forget the hard work and stress it took
to get where we were.
Suddenly, Bao, the mechanic ran to me and said, just loud enough for only me to
hear, “There is a baby who just died and the mother is crying, down there.” I
quickly ran down there, to the lower level of t he cabin and saw a group of men
and women and children gathered around the mother. I invited all to go to the
top floor for some fresh air. The mother was still there with her dead child,
crying. The child was a baby girl, about 6 months old. She said, “Last night,
she had a fever and I tried to give her medicine. This morning, the fever
persisted; therefore, I gave her twice the dosage. I intended to take her to the
top deck so she could have fresh air but unfortunately, it was too late.”
All I could do was breath a heavy sigh and comfort her. I understood the deep
painful feeling of losing a child on the way to find freedom. The baby had
experienced her freedom before us. I asked the mother if we could have a
traditional burial ceremony at sea. She wiped off her tears and nodded. It was
about 7 A.M.. Bao, the mechanic, had made a coffin out of a carton. He put a
white towel underneath and placed the child inside. I stood in the middle and
loudly proclaimed, “Friends, there is sad news. There is a baby girl of six
months who has just passed away this morning within our boat. Her mother has
agreed to bury her daughter at sea. I ask everyone to be silent and pray for the
child.” I signaled to the mechanic to take the coffin to the front of the boat.
As we carried the coffin to the front, the mother followed. I asked the pilot to
slow the pace of the boat down. Everyone was silent.
Teacher Thuc stood in front of the coffin and raised his hands up towards the
sky and said, “Thank God for giving life to this beautiful baby. Now that you
have decided to take her back with you, let her guide us on a peaceful journey.
Although we will not see her body again, her soul will always be with us to help
us. We ask you, God, to give peace and comfort to her mother and to encourage
her to live through this difficult time.” All that could be heard were sniffles
from the passengers. Bao, the mechanic, lifted the coffin over the side of the
boat. I guided the child’s mother to where the coffin was. The coffin was slowly
lowered into the sea and disappeared along with the child’s body.
The sun was at its peak. I estimated the number of passengers on the boat to be
more than 150. This was twice the number I had planned. Nevertheless, it was
peaceful and the activity was quietly controlled. We sat on the boat in the
middle of the sea like a leaf being blown around. It was a fearful and worrisome
feeling. Fortunately, the ocean was calm. We hoped that we had now passed into
an international sea zone. Foreign boats would come and rescue us or at least
take us to land.
Because of the tumultuous and threatening events that had occurred since last
evening when the boat began to depart, everyone had seemed to become nearly
psychotic. Now, people gradually became relieved and relaxed. My stomach, and
everyone’s too, reminded us of reality: “It was totally empty since yesterday.”
The group of 7 “fishermen/sailors” brought drinking water to everyone. Si and Tu
had steamed sweet potatoes hours before. People started their lunch with steamed
sweet potatoes. That was the menu of the first meal on the fleeing overseas
boat, wandering at large, in middle of the immensity of skies and waters. How
tasty and good it was!
I noticed that some ladies used drinking water to wash their faces and hands,
then requested another ration of drinking water. I remembered stories about
sufferings because of lacking of drinking water and food from previous groups
who had fled overseas years before. In addition, some friends came whispering to
my ears, “Brother Seventh, you should ask people on this boat to not waste
drinking water,” I decided to address the pdeople loudly, “Whoever is thirsty,
water will be provided but only for drinking. Please do not use it to wash
yourself in any way because nobody knows for how long we must be on the boat. If
you’d like to wash yourself in any way, you can use the sea water.”
Late afternoon weather approached, and it began to get cooler. Suddenly, fog
began to descend. It was maybe 5:30 in the afternoon. Standing there, I began to
see a city on the horizon. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t just seeing
things. I said loudly, “We are approaching a city!” Several people around me
also saw what I saw. But it was just a mirage.
***
Tuesday July 26th, 1983
I tried to control the steering wheel so that the pilots could have a rest. The
mechanic also had a hard day and needed a rest as well. Both hands were on the
steering wheel and my eyes were concentrated up front. From time to time I would
look at the compass, which showed we were heading east. It was about 3 A.M.
There were a few people awake, and we talked to pass the time. The pilot took my
place at the steering wheel.
I walked out of the cabin and paced around the boat to see if everything was in
order. I slipped and fell over board and into the ocean. Luckily, I grabbed a
rope hanging from the side of the boat and yelled for help. No one could hear
me. I was really fighting between life and death. I whispered, “Oh my God! Have
pity on me!”
I used all my strength to pull myself back to the boat. I reached higher and
higher and was able to get out from underneath the water and continued upwards.
Finally, I pulled myself onto the boat. It was still dark. I looked around and
saw that no one even knew what had happened. I called Mr. Hien. Nguyet, his
wife; Little Hien heard my voice, and all surprised, asked, “What happened?”
Little Hien, trembling, and also extremely surprised, shouted, “Godfather!” I
told them the details of what had just happened to me. Mr. Hien said, “Oh! Oh!
Mr. Tran, the diviner, might be right. He said that you might encounter an
accident. You remember?” And we laughed. Then, I had a good sleep.
The sun had risen and the boat was cruising along. The sea was calm and
everything indicated that we were going to have a good second day. A school of
fish surrounded the boat; some even touched the side of the boat; some others
were swimming in front of the boat and sort of performed like in a dance.
Everyone was excited and happy while watching this sight. The fish disappeared.
Some of the passengers believed that this was a sign of peace and good luck to
come. I knew that we had seen dolphins and, in my belief, they would bring
happiness and luck.
Suddenly, there was an event that happened that eliminated any kind of hope and
excitement that the passengers were feeling. It was around 10 A.M. A young man
with a rebellious haircut and a muscular build jumped in front of the cabin and
grabbed the compass into his hands, then he tried to run away to the
astonishment of all. Because there were too many passengers around the cabinet,
he fell down. And the compass was broken. I asked him what was going on. He
pushed me away and seemed to lose control of himself and yelled, “Let me go! I
have to jump into the ocean!”
There was a middle aged couple who sat next to me and revealed to me that this
man had gone crazy throughout the last few days. I looked at this couple and
happily recognized that they both were expert psychologists. They said,
“Brother! Judging from his actions and mannerisms, we can tell that he has gone
crazy. We have the necessary medication. Please have him take it.” Then, the
woman doctor gave me 2 tablets which I forced the young fellow, with the help of
2 other young men, to swallow. He went even crazier and kept yelling at us to
let him go so that he could jump to the sea. Finally, after a struggle, we were
able to make him swallow the pills. A moment later he fell into a deep sleep.
I suggested that two young men tie him to the pole and wait for him to recover
and gain consciousness. About 30 minutes later, he was awake. I sat down next to
him and intended to tell him about what just happened. But, he continued to yell
at me to demand me to let him go free so that he could “jump into the ocean with
the compass” even though the compass was broken, and his hands were empty! I
just shook my head, gave up, and walked away after giving him 2 more tablets.
The two who helped me restrain him told me to get some rest while they watched
over him. The medication worked, and he went to sleep again.
Around two in the afternoon, dark clouds filled the sky and cooled the weather a
bit. It looked like rain was coming. I woke the young man who was tied to the
pole. It seemed like he was getting back to his normal state of mind. He looked
around and was surprised. He asked, “Why am I tied to the pole?” I just smiled
and asked, “Do you still want to jump into the ocean?” He looked at me with a
confused face and said, “I’m not stupid. I don’t want to die in the ocean.” I
released his arms and everyone was happy that this man finally was back to
normal. But, this did not solve the problem of having the compass broken and not
having an extra one.
I untied the young man, and sat next to him, then engaged him in a friendly
conversation. His name was Ngo, 25 years old. He thanked me for giving him the
opportunity to get on this boat, regardless of the fact that he was one of the
unauthorized. He said that his family’s assets had been seized by the government
and they had lost everything. His family had dispersed all around. His father
committed suicide. His mother and two siblings were shipped to the New Economy
Zone. He ran away and tried to do anything he could for his daily survival,
waiting for an opportunity, like this one, to flee overseas.
When I inquired about his behavior this morning, he held his head into his hands
for a while, like trying to refresh his memory and to remember something, and
then said, “Brother Seventh, do you remember this morning when we were down at
the keel of the boat and we were bailing out excess water? When you went up to
the floor, I looked at the big steel wheel of the machine still running. I saw a
little boy whose head was pushed against the big steel wheel and red blood
splashed all around, then I heard a mysterious voice saying, ‘If you want to
save all people on this boat, go upstairs, grab the compass, and jump into the
sea.’ I don’t remember anything after that.”
While we were talking, heavy rain came, and everyone tried to shelter themselves
as much as they could. There was not much they could do because it was raining
just for a few minutes.
In the evening, the same phenomenon as yesterday happened - the illusion about
cities with high buildings displayed far away, but the nearer we approached,
this illusion disappeared. The second day passed.
***
Wednesday July 27th, 1983
After three nights and two days, people were finally starting to get used to
life on the boat. They had no choice but to get used to it. In the early morning
at about 5:00 A.M. I woke up while others were still sleeping. I made a tour on
the board around the boat just to see if everything was OK. At the back of the
boat, I suddenly heard something like people who cried, lamented, complained...
up from the sea. Although the sounds were not loud enough to wake everyone up,
some started at this sound and looked at me with inquiring eyes “What’s that?” I
rushed to the front of the boat, and amazingly surprised, I saw some ladies in
their 50’s stand up, their two hands joined, heads straight ahead, eyes closed,
and lips of their mouths moved up and down like reciting prayers in silence.
People started waking up. Many of them looked dazed. They seemed to ask me by
their eyes, “What happened?” I glanced at Nguyet, Mr. Hien’s wife, and realized
that she had something to tell to me. I came nearby. She said, “Brother Seventh,
did you hear something strange?” I nodded, and through my eyes, indicated to her
other people’s inquiring appearance and behavior. It took several minutes before
things became gradually normal.
Several small groups were formed, and discussion among them was heard. Some
passengers whose relatives had fled overseas months or even years before and who
had written to them from the 3rd country, recalling their fleeing overseas,
said, “It seems that we are passing a zone where many fleeing overseas boats had
sunk, and the sounds we just heard few minutes ago come from the souls of these
boat people.” Anyway, I thought, it was a good opportunity to remind people of
the Supreme One; whether Catholic or Buddhist, or Caodaiist, or of whatever
religion, each one’s belief was to rely on the Providence and to recognize how
fragile was our human being’s nature.
The beginning of the third day on the high seas announced new hope and joy and
peace: the ocean was calm, the weather cool and really relaxing with a quiet
morning breeze. Even though the compass was broken, the pilot felt comfortable
in driving the boat to the “dream land.”
At about 9:00 A.M. the pilot called me into the cabin and said that “there is an
important issue.“ Two middle aged men introduced themselves to me. One of them
whose name was Tan said that he knew I was the leader of this journey and
respected me, especially during the difficult times within the last two days. He
recognized that he himself and many others on this boat were unauthorized to be
taken onboard, and they apologized for that.
“Let me begin with what I want to say,” he continued. “After three years in the
concentration camp, even though I was not an ex-navy member, I have studied the
navigation on the sea and have seen over three nights and two days that perhaps,
we are headed into the wrong direction. Using the compass alone is not enough.
If you trust me, please allow me to work with the pilot to change the direction
of navigation.” I looked at our steersman and asked his opinion. He nodded in
agreement. I said to Mr. Tan, “We all are on the same boat, now, and aim to
common goal and interests. We all appreciate your offer to help. Thank you.”
Mr. Tan began to take control of the steering wheel. I looked at him in an
attempt to figure out who he really was. He seemed honest and educated. Mr. Tan
said, “Now, we have to go into the direction of the wind. Double check the
velocity or speed of our boat.” He asked me to go at the front of the boat and
to hang up a flag to gauge the wind direction, then said, “While you are there
at the prow of the boat, drop something like a ping pong ball, or a piece of
paper crushed unto a ball form into the water and time how long it takes for
that piece of paper to flow to the stern of the boat in order to calculate our
speed. For accuracy, please try it three times.”
After the experiment, Mr. Tan looked at the flag for direction of the wind and
then changed the direction of the boat to fit with that direction. He said, “We
are just about to enter the international borders on the high seas. I’m not too
sure, but I believe that either by tonight or tomorrow morning, we will be able
to see foreign ships.” I smiled at him in appreciation and hoped what he claimed
would come soon. Little Bao brought into the cabin several steamed sweet
potatoes and a pot of coffee. Times passed, smoothly, quietly.
It was late evening of the third day. I was taking some rest; younger Bao woke
me up. He pointed with his finger into the sky and said, “Brother Seventh, look
up this direction. Do you see something flashing?” I looked up in the direction
he was pointing to and saw a dim light like flashing lights far away on high. I
rubbed my eyes and wondered if it was just a star or another illusion. Other
passengers, also, looked up and excitedly claimed, “That’s a plane or a
helicopter!” Whether it was a plane or a helicopter, I was wondering if the boat
had been circling around back to the west because it had been just three nights
and three days since we left Vietnam. “What country could it be? Con Dao Island?
Or Phu Quoc Island?” As the plane or helicopter approached, everyone looked up
and followed the flashing lights. I thought that it was a helicopter rather than
a plane considering its speed. Anyway, it was still too high to be able to
determine what it might be.
However, a good idea came to my mind. We should make a torch as a signal to be
seen by the pilots on the plane or helicopter to indicate where we were. I
gathered all the rags and put them into a tank of oil to make it flammable. I
stood up at the front of the boat and waved the torch. It really was a
helicopter flying over our heads. Because it was too far away, I could not
recognize to which country it belonged. All the rags burned and the helicopter
was still far away. It flew over our heads and then farther away from the boat.
Everyone was disappointed. The passengers wondered if it was just a helicopter
of the Soviet Union Armies that had been in Vietnam right after April 30, 1975.
If it was the case, they joked, we all prayed to God that they didn’t see us.
About an hour later, the flashing lights from above appeared again and
approached us. This time it came closer. I commanded some young men to make
another torch, but there were no more rags. I pulled out my own shirt and dipped
it into the oil tank and used it to make the torch. It truly was a helicopter,
and it seemed like the pilot had seen the boat. The helicopter lowered its
altitude and when it came right above our heads, I read the words “Navy.” I
yelled, “It’s an American helicopter!” Everyone stood up in excitement and
yelled, “Navy! Navy! American! American!”
Everyone was ecstatic and was running around the boat making it tilt back and
forth. I yelled to the passengers to stand still and not move or else we would
sink. Everyone then stood still and continued to wave to the helicopter. The
helicopter, just like last time, flew away and once again, disappointed all of
the passengers.
Less than 15 minutes later, the helicopter re-appeared, and this time much lower
at our level of view. It did not fly over us, but rather stood still on the
left, about 1km from the boat and projected a strong downdraft straight to the
surface of the sea like a conic strong luminous column. People rejoiced and
embraced each other. Some of them even believed that “they called for help from
submarines and we could be rescued by submarines!” I said to the pilot, “Turn
the boat toward the direction of the helicopter!” He did. When the boat
approached, the helicopter moved with the flashlight indicating us to follow it.
About an hour later, the helicopter was still leading us. Suddenly, in front of
us appeared like a very big structure with all lights on. That was an American
ship waiting for us. Along the side of the ship, a small boat with 4 or 5
American sailors on it was ready to come near by our boat. On the high floor of
the ship, there were several sailors waving their hands in greeting and
welcoming us. The boat began to approach us. Two sailors jumped into our boat
and tied it to the lifeboats. Some sailors just dropped down. A rope ladder was
also dropped down from the high deck of the ship to our boat.
The two psychologists, who knew English took the role as translators,
accompanying the two American sailors around the boat. The engine was still
running in good condition. After a tour of the boat, one of the two Americans
said something to the psychologists who translated as, “They will rescue only 50
persons, priority for women and children.” It meant “NOT all passengers would be
rescued,” I thought. Anyway, was it “Sauve qui peut” the main goal of our poor
people since the beginning of the invading war that started on March 11, 1975?
It was rather selfish and individual, but in certain circumstances, one could
not do nothing else.
I stood alone at the end of the boat and looked at people - strong young men and
healthy old men included - who pushed each other around in order to be chosen, I
remembered the chaotic and bitter-sweet scene around and at the front gate of
the U.S. Embassy in Saigon on April 29, 1975, the last day set for the American
people to withdraw from Vietnam, according to the ultimatum order of President
Duong Van Minh. My mind turned around, confused, and empty. I suddenly
remembered what one of my friends, who had worked for the import/export
business, had said to me, “By international law on transportation at sea, if a
boat or ship were sinking, any boat or ship passing by should rescue everyone on
the boat or ship in distress.”
While the American sailors were helping women and children off the boat, I
called the mechanic over and whispered for him to go down to the engine room and
to turn off the engine and smash it in order to assist other young men to go
down and help the mechanic in order to make the boat seem like it was sinking
quicker. They did, and everything was well done. About forty people had already
been helped off. I tried to yell loudly to the translator to let the American
sailors know that there was something wrong with the engine room, and they
needed to take a look at it. One of the sailors came down, looked into the
engine room, and then rushed to say some words, sounding like “quick, quick.” I
understood, of course, what these words meant. Some other American sailors came
down to the boat to rush anyone off the boat as “quick” as possible.
Still standing at the stern of the boat, I was smiling with joy and pride,
because I knew my plan had worked. Young Bao came to my side, smiling, and
offered me a can of condensed milk he had just opened, and then said, “Brother
Seventh, thank you! You are great!” I took the condensed milk can by one hand;
the other hand cordially hugged him, saying, “Thank God! All of us are now
saved!”
More and more people were off our boat and only a few were left when I finished
sipping the condensed milk. I was one of the last three passengers left on the
boat. Half the boat had sunk. Younger Bao pushed me ahead, then said, “Brother
Seventh, it’s your turn!”
I stepped onto the rope ladder and at halfway, I looked back to where I had
come. That boat had given me such a great opportunity. I had been with it and it
with me for the last three years. I shared with it a huge part of my life, some
happy and some sad experiences, and it had become a part of me. Finally, it had
taken me to freedom. I waved my hand to it. I could feel light tears rolling
down. I whispered, “Thank you! Goodbye!”
As I stepped on the last step of the rope ladder onto the American ship, one
sailor looked at me and said something to his companion. He walked away then
returned about a minute later with a T-shirt and handed it to me. He said
something I didn’t understand, but I said “Thank You!” anyway. As I held the
T-shirt, I remembered that I didn’t have a shirt on because I pulled it off to
make a torch a few hours before. I stepped onto the American ship with tears of
happiness and thanksgivings to God.
Alleluia!
Wonderful souvenir, the T-shirt with the logo:
USS-CALLAGHAM DDG994