Escape from Saigon Read online

  A vanquished army, the colonel thought. Did we ever really believe we would see this day?

  Behind him, tank number 390 raced to keep up, followed by a convoy of military trucks and vehicles trailing behind. Like the deck of the colonel’s tank, all of the vehicles were crowded with infantrymen laughing and shouting to one another. Ever since this morning, when they were ordered into the city in force—only to find it empty and quiet—a mixture of relief and giddy excitement had permeated their ranks.

  The boulevard they traveled ran through a grassy park flanked on both sides by tall, leafy shade trees. Directly ahead were the imposing wrought-iron gates fronting the palace. As the tanks pulled up to the entrance, the colonel could see that the gates were closed tight, with a heavy, padlocked chain double-wrapped around the center columns.

  He hesitated only a moment. “Break through!” he ordered.

  The driver, Kang, stuck his head out of the hatch below and looked up at the colonel. “Crash into them?” he asked, wanting to be sure he heard correctly.

  “The Southern forces have kept us from this victory for too long,” answered the colonel. “I think it is only fitting that we strike down the last barrier, and not knock on their door as though we are asking to be admitted. Go ahead, smash them down!”

  Without another word Kang shifted the tank into gear. Smoke belched from the exhaust stack as the diesel engine revved to a menacing growl. The tank churned forward, knocking one gate aside and tearing the other from its hinges. Troops from the tanks and trucks behind them swarmed onto the palace grounds and up the building’s broad marble steps. Moments later, a cheer went up as the yellow, red-striped South Vietnamese flag atop the palace fluttered down the flagpole. It was quickly replaced by a red banner with a gold star, the flag of North Vietnam.

  The colonel checked his wristwatch. The time was 1100 hours. He smiled, amazed as always that the cheap, military-issue watch was the one thing he owned that had survived with him until now.

  * * *

  From his vantage point atop the tank, now parked in the shade at the edge of the palace grounds, Colonel Binh Ang Le watched the troops relaxing out on the grass as his thoughts wandered to his home in Hanoi. He tried to imagine what it looked like now, after so many years of war. He looked forward to returning there to see his family again.

  His gaze shifted to the stark white palace, and beyond it to the tall city buildings of central Saigon.

  This is ours now, he said to himself. We have won!

  * * *

  Aboard the USS Anchorage, South China Sea

  “C’mon, Gunny—I’ve got to make this call.”

  Matt hated to plead, but the Marine sergeant blocked his way.

  “After what I’ve been through, my wife needs to know I made it out!”

  The old Marine’s face was impassive as he scrutinized the dirty, disheveled longhair standing in front of him in the ship’s passageway. So this college boy claims he’s a former grunt?

  “If you was up on the ’Z like you say, what outfit?”

  “Kilo Company, Second Battalion, First Marine Regiment,” Matt instantly replied. “Quang Tri, Con Thien, and the Rockpile.”

  “Who was your CO?”

  “Captain Barcena in ’67, Henderson in ’68. Barcena got the Navy Cross while I was there. Henderson caught a frag after I left and I heard he didn’t make it.”

  “Yeah, he didn’t—I knew him too, served with him in the Crotch before he went in-country. Good man.”

  The sergeant paused; then, “Okay. Once a Marine, always a Marine—even with that stateside haircut. You get one call! And keep it short! If the Old Man ever hears I let you use our comm, he’ll make a tobacco pouch outta my ball sack!”

  Five minutes later Matt was in the ship’s radio room, a radio handset jammed against his ear, waiting—hoping—to hear Pham pick up. He almost dropped the handset when he heard her voice.

  “Hello? This is Pham. Who’s calling?”

  “Pham! It’s me, baby!”

  “Matt! Oh my God, it’s you! Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m on a ship and I’ve got Nuoc and her guy with me. We made it out! We’re coming home!”

  * * *

  Standing on the afterdeck, feeling the cool breeze blowing off the sea, Lisette held the mic to her lips while she collected her thoughts. Next to her, Nuoc and Phuong held each other close. They watched as a squad of ship’s Marines shoved the remnants of their mangled Huey across the last few feet of the destroyer’s deck and, shouting encouragement to one other, with a final heave pushed the metal carcass overboard. It plummeted seventy feet to the sea below, made a mighty splash, then quickly disappeared, leaving no trace on the ocean’s surface.

  Finally, she nodded to the ensign who had volunteered to hold her battered camera.

  “Let’s do this,” she said. As the camera whirred, she began her monologue.

  “Today, April 30, 1975, I’m reporting to you from the rescue ship USS Anchorage, off the coast of Vietnam in the South China Sea. Within the past twenty-four hours Saigon and the South Vietnamese government have fallen to the communist forces of the North. After years of struggle and millions of lives lost, their decades-long war is over …”

  Behind her, far out in the distance, the fighting had ceased but the coastline was a tableau of smoke and fire. It wasn’t the faraway smoke that was making her eyes water.

  Better end this now, she thought, before I start bawling like a baby.

  “The American presence here—limited to diplomatic and financial assistance since U.S. troops pulled out in 1973, after nearly a dozen years of bloody and ultimately pointless warfare—also ended hours before the communists took control. Ironically, it is American sailors and Marines here on these ships that are once again helping the beleaguered citizens of South Vietnam. When they are finally aboard this and other ships waiting out here, we—meaning myself along with the United States of America—will leave this scarred and tortured land, perhaps forever …

  “This is Lisette Vo, NBS News, reporting from the deck of the USS Anchorage—off the coast of what was once the Republic of South Vietnam.”

  EPILOGUE

  April 30, 1976

  ONE YEAR LATER TO THE DAY, a U.S. Air Force C-141 lifted off the runway at Tan Son Nhut Airport outside Ho Chi Minh City and set a course for Washington, D.C., more than eighteen hours’ flying time and half the world away. After rendezvousing with a USAF KC-135 tanker over the Bering Sea, the transport continued on to Andrews Air Force Base, where a reception party of military and civilians waited in the warm Maryland sun.

  After landing and taxiing to a stop in front of the somber group, the transport’s tail ramp lowered, a sergeant gave a soft-spoken command, and all of the military men, including an Air Force chaplain and eight U.S. Marines in formal dress blues, snapped to attention.

  The civilians in the group included Lisette Vo, Estelle Waverly—publisher of the Washington Legend—and Sam Esposito’s mother and father.

  A large van with U.S. government plates and a black Cadillac hearse from the Marino & Messina Funeral Home were parked nearby. Their drivers stood next to the vehicles, hands folded, watching as the plane’s air crew walked down the incline, took up positions on either side of the ramp, and, like the military members, came to attention.

  The Marines ascended the ramp in formation and re-emerged moments later with the first of six flag-draped coffins. Each of the coffins was carried in mute ceremony to the van. The bodies in the coffins were, until recently, among the 2,646 Americans listed as Missing in Action after the U.S. military ceased combat operations and left Vietnam in 1973.

  As the van drove away, the Marines returned to the plane, marched up the ramp, and carried out the last flag-draped coffin. In it was Sam Esposito.

  Tuan kept his promise. Sam was home.

  * * *

  “Lisette, you covered the Vietnam War for over a decade and barely escaped from Saigon last Apri
l when the North Vietnamese captured the city and ended the war. A year has passed since then. What are your thoughts on this anniversary of your return to the States?”

  Barry Chase leaned forward in his chair, eager to hear his guest’s response. Lisette Vo was a newsmaker in more ways than one—a courageous wartime journalist and, since her return to the U.S., a celebrated figure for her outspoken commentary on the war. He knew this interview would be a terrific lead for his weekend show, the Sunday News Hour.

  Lisette paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, then replied, “I’ve got a lot of emotions to sort out, Barry. As you know, this week we welcomed home the remains of Sam Esposito, who was killed during the time you just described, the fall of Saigon. I lost a friend and we all lost a great journalist. In fact, sixty-four reporters died covering the war. I made it out. I still haven’t come to grips with that.”

  “Do you think you made a difference, reporting from Vietnam for ten years? Was it worth it?”

  “Yes. I think what I did—what we journalists did—was important and valuable. The world certainly changed during that time. France fought a war there, then we fought our own war for another decade, then the South Vietnamese struggled to hold on until the North finally overwhelmed them. Someone needed to be there to describe the events as they happened, otherwise who would ever know? Colonialism as an institution in Indochina ended with Vietnam. The war changed America, too. It was the longest war in our history and, whether you fought in it, avoided it, or openly protested against it, the Vietnam War defined our entire generation.”

  “What about the Vietnam you left—the country, the people?”

  “Reprisals by Hanoi against the people they defeated are just wrong. The communists have put tens of thousands of former South Vietnamese military and civilians into forced-labor camps under brutal conditions. In the name of ‘progress’ they make highly educated lawyers, scholars, and writers work at menial jobs. What a waste. Meanwhile, their economy is failing and the U.S. embargo hurts all of them—not only our former enemies but also the people who were once our allies. I hope this will change.”

  “And the deaths?”

  “During our war alone, more than fifty-thousand American servicemen and women died, and it’s estimated that a million North and South Vietnamese soldiers and perhaps two million Vietnamese civilians were killed. Fortunately, the killing has stopped. There have been no mass executions as there were in Cambodia at the hands of the Khmer Rouge.

  “Refugees—the ‘boat people’—keep fleeing Vietnam. I’ve heard that over one million Vietnamese have left the country as of this year, and they’re still leaving by any means possible. Many of them die trying—drowned at sea, taken by pirates. It’s another legacy of a terrible war, one that goes on and on.”

  “What about the Americans who are listed as Missing in Action?”

  “We need to account for every single one of them. We cannot forget their sacrifice. Or that of the veterans who came home wounded in many ways. As a nation, we still need to heal.”

  “And then there’s Lisette Vo. What’s next for you?”

  “I’m happy covering Washington politics for now, but as for the future, I don’t know. I’ve stayed in touch with some of the people who were with me in those difficult, final days. It’s a comfort to know that they’ve been able to put those events behind them. For the most part, they’ve gone on with their lives. We all need to do that—move on, but never forget. What happened in Vietnam is part of history now, and perhaps future generations can learn something from that. At least, we can always hope they will.”

  Acknowledgments

  THE AUTHORS WOULD LIKE TO THANK numerous individuals who generously provided first-person accounts, historical insight, and technical details about the events and wartime activities recounted in this story. Among them are former Vietnam War correspondents George Lewis (NBC-TV), and the late George Esper (Associated Press Bureau Chief in Saigon), whose insights into the news-gathering technology of the time and the realities of reporting America’s first television war were invaluable in helping us faithfully recreate the period setting. Our gratitude also goes to three former Central Intelligence Agency agents: Jack Devine, author of Good Hunting; Joseph T. Sampson, who was the CIA’s Chief of Communications at the U.S. Embassy in Saigon as these events unfolded, and his son, Tim Sampson, for sharing personal letters and photos from his father’s estate.

  We were also aided in our research by former United States Air Force pilots Captain David Schwartz and Major Steven Dorian (Ret.), and U.S. Navy Captain Denis Faherty (Ret.), for their firsthand knowledge of fighter jet and air transport operations; and U.S. Army Captain Sean Kelly for military background details.

  Others who added much-needed color and depth to our story include David Jacobson, proprietor of Saigon’s renowned Q-Bar; Jean Marie Berton, hotel manager and French ex-patriate; and publishers Lisa Spivey (Destination Vietnam) and Albert Wen (Things Asian Press) for insights into the cultural life of Vietnam. Additional assistance was provided by Vu Thi Thien Thu, who studied at the University of Saigon in 1975, for researching individual and place names.

  Thanks also to the Pan Am Historical Foundation, and to Robert Ruseckas, one of the many April 1975 heroes and rescuers.

  The authors would especially like to thank Tuan Anh Nguyen, co-chairman of the Boston Global Forum, who supported our research and travel in Vietnam.

  * * *

  We also wish to acknowledge the following resources for invaluable historical information and first-person accounts of the April 1–30 time period covered in our story:

  TimesMachine, the archives of The New York Times.

  Vietnam Magazine, published by Weider History Group, Inc.

  Vietnam Passages, Journeys from War to Peace, produced by Sandy Northrup and David Lamb, Public Broadcasting System (2002)

  The Last Days of Saigon by Evan Thomas, Newsweek (2000)

  Vietnam: The End, an academic work, by Major Thomas M. Bibby, United States Air Force (1985)

  Eyewitness History of the Vietnam War by George Esper, Ballantine Books (1986)

  War Torn: Stories of War from the Women Reporters Who Covered Vietnam by Tad Bartimus, Denby Fawcett, Jurate Kazickas, Edith Lederer, and Ann Mariano, Random House (2002)

  Once Upon a Distant War: Reporting from Vietnam by William Prochnau, Mainstream Publishing Company, Ltd. (1996)

  The Fall of Saigon: Scenes from the Sudden End of a Long War by David Butler, Simon & Schuster (1985)

  Goodnight Saigon by Charles Henderson, Berkley Reprint Edition (2008)

  Vietnam to Western Airlines, Bruce Cowee, Editor, Alive Books (2013)

  Another Vietnam: Pictures of the War from the Other Side by Tim Page, National Geographic (2002)

  Dispatches by Michael Herr, Everyman’s Library (2009)

  But This War Had Such Promise by Gary Trudeau, Henry Holt & Co. (1973)

  * * *

  Song lyrics from Miss Saigon by Claude-Michel Schönberg and Alain Boublil. Copyright 2016, Cameron Mackintosh Ltd.

  * * *

  For more about the history behind Escape from Saigon and information on book events and special promotions, or to leave your comments, please visit our website: www.escapefromsaigon.com.

  Despite the war, Sunday strolls in one of Saigon’s parks continued to be part of the city’s lifestyle. Photo by Lt. Colonel Edward Walters, USAF (courtesy Michael Walters).

  The Continental Palace Hotel, built by the French in 1880, was best known for its veranda, were press, politicians, diplomats and the well-to-do gathered for afternoon cocktails. Photo by Lt. Colonel Edward Walters, USAF (courtesy Michael Walters).

  President Gerald Ford meets with National Security Advisor Brent Scowcroft, General Frederick Weyand, and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, following General Weyand’s return from his fact-finding mission in South Vietnam (courtesy President Gerald R. Ford Library and Museum).

  Almost immedately after NVA tanks
burst onto the grounds of the Presidential Palace, the edifice was renamed Reunification Palace, and Saigon became Ho Chi Minh City, named for the North Vietnam leader. Photo by the authors.

  Refugee flights landed aboard U.S. Seventh Fleet ships in such numbers, and so rapidly, that crew members simply tossed the helicopters into the sea to make room for the continual wave of incoming aircraft. U.S. Marine Corps Photo.

  A U.S. Marine helps refugees aboard one of the ships in the American flotilla during the final days of April, 1975. U.S Marine Corps Photo by PH3 Harold Brown, USN (Marine Corps Association).