No
matter what political reasons are given for war, the underlying reason is
always economic.
–A. J. P. Taylor
What
is absurd and monstrous about war is that men who have no personal quarrel
should be trained to murder one another in cold blood.
–Aldous Huxley
War is not the continuation of politics with
different means, it is the greatest mass-crime perpetrated on the community of
man.
–Alfred Adler
A
great war leaves a country with three armies: an army of cripples, an army of
mourners, and an army of thieves.
–Anonymous (German
Amid the humidity of the hot day, and the acrid odour of jet fuel, the swarm of people, screaming and yelling, was trying to clamber over the iron fence guarded by armed soldiers. In the distance, smoke clouded the sky, explosions could be heard, and flashes could be seen. The thunder of the gunfire was getting closer. The enemy troops were on the outskirts, surrounding the capital city, in preparation for their final victory. Soon they would be advancing towards the airport. The local troops were withdrawing. The situation was unraveling. Feelings of panic and fear spread through the entire population. The end was coming soon.
A convoy of cars and buses full of people kept on going through the entry check-point. As they approached, the soldiers would check their credentials, and then would let them in, as they shouted: “Go, go, quick, hurry up!”
Tuyen was keeping herself away from the crowd, holding a bundle, and trying to hide it with her body. She had been waiting for a moment when perhaps the soldiers by the gate would direct their attention away from the vehicles. The moment came when the last car in the convoy approached the check-point. She darted towards it, and, before the soldiers could react, she threw the package she was hiding, into the back seat, at the same time that she yelled to the two men sitting on it: “Đưa anh ta với bạn. Ông sẽ có
cuộc sống tốt hơn ở Mỹ. Nâng cao anh như thể anh là máu thịt của riêng bạn.”
Robert Stimson, and Thien Duong, the two men riding in the back, screamed at the same time, terrified by the package that had been thrown to them. They thought it was going to explode, but it didn’t. One of the soldiers reacted and hit Tuyen with the butt of his gun, and she fell to the ground. Had that car not been the last one in the caravan, she would have been run over. Still shaken by what had just happened Robert looked back through the rear windshield. He saw Tuyen lying on the road, on her knees, and with her hands over her head. She was crying in despair.
Inside the airport chaos was building up; panic was in the air. People were yelling, and moving all over in a state of confusion, behind the fence watched by soldiers with machine guns. They were beginning to worry about being left behind and falling into the custody of the advancing enemy troops. Outside, there was a Boeing 747 parked on the tarmac. Soldiers with machine guns stood guard close to it.
When the time to board the aircraft came, the crowd stormed the barricade, and ran towards the tarmac. Robert Stimson, and his friend Thien Duong were among them. Strangely, Robert was still carrying the package that had been thrown at him in the car. Guards were at the bottom of the stairs of the airplane, checking for visas and other papers. When the airplane door was finally closed, the mechanic who flagged the plane into the runway, jumped into the wheels well, and climbed aboard through the cockpit floor.
The plane was crammed with almost five hundred individuals, men, women, crying babies, frightened refugees, crew members, their families, and embassy personnel. They were on the seats, on the floor, on the aisles, in the washrooms; anywhere the crew could fit them. Seat belts did not matter; the plane carried no luggage, no life vest, and no rafts. The purpose was to pack as many people on board as possible, as long as the airplane could get air borne. Except for the crying babies, a sombre atmosphere reigned inside. Many of them were leaving behind everything they knew; their country for the first and maybe the last time; their family, husbands, parents, children, without even a good-bye, and flying into an uncertain, unknown future, with whatever belongings they could fit in a carry-on bag; heading to a country where they knew nobody and had no idea where they would live.
The plane was crammed with almost five hundred individuals, men, women, crying babies, frightened refugees, crew members, their families, and embassy personnel. They were on the seats, on the floor, on the aisles, in the washrooms; anywhere the crew could fit them. Seat belts did not matter; the plane carried no luggage, no life vest, and no rafts. The purpose was to pack as many people on board as possible, as long as the airplane could get air borne. Except for the crying babies, a sombre atmosphere reigned inside. Many of them were leaving behind everything they knew; their country for the first and maybe the last time; their family, husbands, parents, children, without even a good-bye, and flying into an uncertain, unknown future, with whatever belongings they could fit in a carry-on bag; heading to a country where they knew nobody and had no idea where they would live.
As the airliner taxied from one side of the airport to the other, the anxiety grew to an unbearable level, since the control tower placed it in a ground-hold position for forty-five minutes. A fighter jet that had crashed on the runway and was blocking their departure had to be bulldozed. After the runway was cleared, the plane started moving again, at the same time that from the far side of the landing strip, gunfire was coming at them. After that the aircraft accelerated until it reached the take off speed, at around 180 knots. The captain, Bob Berg, then applied pressure to the yoke; the aircraft pivoted on its main wheels, lifted its nose, and took off the potholed tarmac at Tan Son Nhut International Airport.
Agitated and trembling, unable to calm down, Robert asked his friend Thien: “What did she say?” Thien’s reply was: “Take him with you. He will have a better life in America. Raise him as if he were your own flesh and blood.” At that moment, the baby he had on his lap opened his eyes, and looked at him. Robert’s eyes filled with tears, as Pan American World Airways Flight 842, the last commercial flight out of Saigon, on April 24, 1975, gained altitude, while distant rockets took aim at it. Robert’s heart was pounding. He was frightened by the possibility of being blown out of the sky. A massive Boeing 747 in broad daylight, and in full view, was an easy target for troops with weapons that could take it down with just a single rocket. But as the aircraft continued to climb up, and turned to the east, Robert could see the coastline falling away. They were now over the South China Sea. He began to breathe normally again.
© William Almonte Jiménez, 2016
