When Saigon Surrendered

by James Aura

  Opal took the photo and held it in her hand, looking up at me then back to the picture.

  I told Opal that Daddy was supposed to rescue those girls, but it never happened. I talked about the boat people and the communists forcing thousands of residents into the jungle for ‘re-education’ camps. I laid it on pretty good, I thought.

  After a minute or two, Opal cut in.

  “Russell I admire how you want to help those people. But answer me this: What about you and college, and what about you and your uncle and the farm? And what about that Korean woman, is she still there, helping out?”

  I realized I had launched straight into my sales pitch without filling Opal in from our last conversation. She had seemed so business-like I wanted to get right to the heart of the matter. I explained to her that we were still on thin ice financially and college would have to wait awhile. I said we still might sell the farm if we had to, but sooner or later I would return to school.

  I reached in my shirt pocket and pulled out a copy of the ‘Indochina Migration and Refugee Assistance Act’. Our congressman had mailed it to me after I called and asked for a copy. It was just the front page, but it had President Ford’s signature on it and everything.

  “Opal the government wants us to help the Vietnam refugees. I hope to get some of them moved into Uncle Wallace’s trailer and help us with the farm work. Soo Jin and Uncle Wallace and I could teach them English. But those two girls from Huế already know English. I was hoping you could help them learn to be manicurists.”

  She started to cut me off, but I plowed forward.

  “That actress who was in ‘The Birds’ movie, helped a bunch of Vietnamese women get jobs in nail salons out in California, and I don’t see why you couldn’t do the same kind of thing here. They tell me these Vietnamese girls are hard workers, and they sure would be grateful. I bet they’d make great employees.”

  That stopped her. She sat and looked at the photos of the sisters from Huế then looked back at me.

  “Russell, you’ve put some thought into this. It sure would be nice to have some hard working girls that are grateful for the opportunity. You know some people look down on our business, but it takes skill and patience to be a good manicurist. It’s hard to recruit good people too. That’s why I am back here. The people I hired to run these shops tried to do everything on the cheap and ran half the managers and employees off.”

  She sat and thought for a moment.

  “Rosie is from California. Her husband took a new job here. Let’s see what she knows about this.”

  She walked out and came back with Miss Rosie a minute later. I told her about the Vietnamese refugee manicurists and she lit up.

  “Oh sure, Tippi Hedron did that! It was on the news out in Bakersfield. I would love to try something like that here.”

  She looked cautiously at Opal, her new employer. We waited.

  “Tell you what, you bring me those two little girls in this picture, and I’ll fix them up with a place to live. I would give your idea a try, at least. I can’t promise you too much, but if you can get them here, Rosie and I will do our best!”

  Good old Opal!

  Rosie went back out into the shop and Opal took my hand.

  “Russell your Grandma and I were such good friends. We were like sisters. She and I agreed about this: There are a lot of folks right here in Kentucky that need a better life, people that are desperately poor: White and black. I want you to promise me you will finish college and then do something more for people who are down and out, not just the Vietnamese. Did you know it is 1975 and Kentucky still has not approved the 13th Amendment?

  “Which one is that, Opal?”

  “That’s the amendment that put the Emancipation Proclamation into law. That’s the amendment that freed the slaves. Slavery is illegal, of course, but it’s the principal of the thing. Black folks still need some help, Russell, and a lot of whites, too.”

  She looked me hard in the eye and went on.

  “When I started building my business I had to pay white lawyers to handle all my dealings. Do you think business people here in Kentucky would sell their shops to a black woman? I had to pay extra to put white faces out there handling business for me. You know what? They were happy to take money from my little old black hands. Rich folks get a paved road with flowers growing along the sides. Poor folks get a bumpy, rocky cow path with thorns and thistles that slow them down. That’s just how it is. Now I’m not complaining but we need to even out those roads, some, Russell Ray.”

  I had never heard Opal talk about race or rich folks and poor folks like that before, but me being all gung-ho to help the Vietnamese, maybe brought her out a little. I left the salon flush with success. Smiled and waved at Myrna as I walked out the door. When I got to the pickup I realized I hadn’t brought up Evelena’s cosmetics with Opal. One thing at a time.

  That night at the farm, Elaine called. She sounded excited.

  “Russell, they put me in touch with some people in Washington who can help with your refugee idea. They are looking for civic groups and churches that can help when these people are brought into the country.”

  “Civic groups and churches? What about farmers and business people?”

  Well they want to work with organizations. What about your Methodist Church up there, don’t you still go to church?”

  I hadn’t gone to church since Grandma’s funeral. The tent revival wouldn’t count.

  I took down some names and phone numbers and thanked Elaine. She wondered if I would be coming down for a visit. She sounded wistful.

  I said I wouldn’t be able to right away, and money was pretty tight.

  Elaine wanted to know why I couldn’t take out some kind of student loan and come back to Auburn. That got under my skin.

  “Elaine, my family had troubles with too much debt when I was growing up. My mama had cancer. The doctor and hospital bills took years to pay off. When you owe people money sooner or later you’ve got to dance to their tune, and Elaine, I am never going to dance to anybody’s tune but my own!”

  We said goodbye and we hung up. I felt a little bad. I had been kind of harsh with Elaine on the debt thing.

  Uncle Wallace had been listening. He was curious.

  “Well, that didn’t sound like just a social call. What have you got going on, Russell?”

  I told him that Opal had agreed to train and employ some Vietnamese girls at one of her shops, and I was hoping we could get some help here on the farm too. I had the brother of the girls from Huế in mind.

  “You are a big thinker, Russell, I like that. Maybe we could try a larger version of the organic garden again next spring, up closer to the wheat field, if we had more help. It would probably make sense to tow my trailer up here to the farm if we’re going to have people live in it. We’d need to hook it up to the water line and the septic tank too. Be some expense with that. But if we had more strong backs available we could do more of the work, ourselves.”

  Those were details we’d have to deal with later. The train was still on the tracks, and I needed to keep it moving.

  The preacher at our church, Wesley Memorial, was sympathetic, but he didn’t think the church council would sponsor any Vietnamese. He suggested the Catholic Bishop in Owensboro, because lots of people from Saigon were Catholic. I didn’t know much about Catholics but I heard they had been sponsors of refugees in other places. Who did I know who was Catholic? Nobody. It was time to get more help.

  I stopped at Grandma’s and Daddy’s graves in the cemetery behind the church. The grass was just starting to fill in on the mound of dirt where Grandma lay. Moss was growing now on Daddy’s tombstone. I sat in front of the graves and thought about the way Grandma and Daddy would joke with each other.

  “Sir Bobert, your tea is ready. Would you like it in a glass or a cup?”

  “Oh Mother dear, have the servants bring it to me in a flagon if you please.”

  Then they’d both laugh and she’d te
ll some funny story about when Daddy was growing up on the farm. I remembered the three of us sitting on the front porch when Daddy slapped a mosquito.

  “Kill one and a thousand will come to its funeral,” Grandma would say, and we’d all chuckle and slap more mosquitoes.

  After the months of grieving when Momma died, I had seen no more sadness in the family, really, until Daddy began his tours of duty in Vietnam. I tried to remember my Momma but those memories came hard. It was difficult to tell whether I was remembering her, or Grandma. I stood up and looked again at the church and the cemetery. I felt like I had plenty to atone for. I took a deep breath and hardened my heart.

  I took the pickup into town to bounce ideas off Evelena and Tom. No one was at the house, so I drove to Tommy’s garage. He and Jimmy Bartholomew were working on motorcycles. They had a big Harley all apart and a second Harley next to it with the engine gone. They were covered in grease and looked happy as a pig in slop. Jim had so much grease on his face he looked like a raccoon.

  Jimmy Bartholomew was a pretty smart guy. He had played the role of a senator in the senior drama and did a great job. When he got dressed up, he looked quite distinguished. Not what you’d guess from the son of a farmhand.

  Coach had tried to recruit Jimmy and me for the basketball team, but neither of us could do sports. After school, we both had to go home and milk the cows. At least the cows I milked were owned by our family. The Holsteins Jim had to milk were owned by a big farmer who provided a tiny tenant house for their family.

  Tommy glanced up.

  “Russell, you are just in time for the big transplant. We are gonna take the engine from this wrecked Harley 74 and put it in this one with the good frame. Then we’ll have a hell of a machine for very little money.”

  “What about the rich ladies and the clean uniforms and all that?”

  “Hell Russell, I am on vacation! When you are on vacation you do whatever you want, and I want to build a monster motorcycle for very little money!”

  I allowed as how that sounded like fun, although motorcycles were never my thing.

  “Do you guys know any Catholics?”

  “Now what? You looking to get religion? Evelena told me you took Soo Jin to a tent revival. How’d that go? You fixing to go look up Oral Roberts next?”

  I should have known better than to ask Tommy about anything religious. If you couldn’t drive it, touch it, shoot it, smoke it, drink it, eat it or see it, he probably wouldn’t be interested.

  Jimmy wiped his hands on a red rag.

  “That teacher at school, the one who does the Spanish classes. I think he might be.”

  “You mean Mr. Hudson, Eric Hudson.”

  I gave Tommy a sideways glance. He sat on the floor surrounded by nuts, bolts, gaskets and gears.

  “How about it Tom? Your sister ever get into anything personal about Mr. Hudson?”

  He shrugged. Tom was deep into a motorcycle trance. I could see that now. He’d be worthless until he had that big Harley running down the road.

  I thanked Jimmy for the idea about Mr. Hudson and turned to leave. I wondered how long Tommy was planning to be on vacation.

  Just as I opened the door to leave, Tom hollered at me.

  “Hey Russell, when you going to share your big plan on the bad guys in Clarksville? I am starting to wonder if you are all bark and no bite!”

  Coming from an old friend like Tom, that hit me like a whip. I turned and headed for the truck. I felt like I was stuck. Maybe I was trying to do too many things at once. The train could only run on one set of tracks at a time.

  I drove back past Evelena’s place and noticed Mr. Hudson’s Volkswagen beetle bug was now parked outside. He always seemed like a good guy to me, even though his teaching of high school Spanish hadn’t prepared me so well for the college level work at Auburn.

  I pulled over and walked up to the front door. I was about to knock when I heard what sounded like an argument. Evelena and Mr. Hudson were going at it. I froze, unsure of what to do. I just stood there a minute.

  “It’s too dangerous, Eric. Those boys are going to get themselves killed and if I help them out, it’ll be my fault!”

  It sounded like they were talking about me and Tommy.

  “Well, I can tell you this Evie, Russell Teague is one smart lad. Probably the smartest student I had last year. He and your brother would make a formidable set of enemies. You need to ease up. It sounds like they are onto something big.”

  The phone rang and Evelena answered it. I decided this would be the time to make an appearance and knocked. Mr. Hudson came to the door. He looked surprised.

  “Hey Russell, Evie and I were just talking about you. Come on in.

  Evelena glanced at me. She didn’t look happy. She went back to her conversation and carried her phone into the other room. It sounded like a delay in a cosmetics delivery.

  “Evelena tells me you have discovered some kind of slavery ring over in Clarksville. I did some translating last year for some Filipinos in Louisville and something like that came up with them. They told me some girls from Manila, and Subic Bay had been pulled into some kind of sex trade deal. The Filipinos had talked to the US Navy brass about it but as far as they knew, nothing was proven.”

  “Did Evelena tell you I am hoping to rescue some Vietnam refugees? I hear there are thousands of them at Subic Bay now. It seems like people in such a desperate condition might be easy pickings for criminals.”

  “She did, Russell, and it sounds like a very admirable cause.”

  Mr. Hudson was laid back and thoughtful. I decided he was a good balance for fast-forward Evelena.

  “I was hoping to find you here, Mr. Hudson. Would you have any contacts with the Catholic Bishop? I understand the Catholics have been helping Vietnam refugees get settled in this country.”

  “I do a little volunteer work, Spanish translation for some Catholic agencies now and then. But I am not very much in demand, since so many priests speak Spanish. I don’t know the Bishop, but I do know a bunch of priests who work with him almost daily."

  “Would you mind checking on that for me? It sure would mean a lot.”

  “It sounds like you’re taking on a load, Russell. Why don’t you write down some kind of proposal or outline; lay out your ideas and I’ll see what I can find out.”

  That wasn’t a bad suggestion. Putting it all on paper might help me sort this all out and move things along. Evelena came back. Mr. Hudson told her he was going to help with the refugee project and she beamed at him. I could tell she was pretty hot for Mr. Hudson.

  ‘Evie, if I help out with the refugee part, will you help these boys with their Clarksville what are we calling it, Russell, an investigation?”

  “I guess that’s a good word for it. It would be great if we could find a house or an apartment or something to use for a week or two somewhere near Fort Campbell. We’ll be very careful Evelena, I promise!”

  Evelena hesitated. She was still goo-goo eyed at Mr. Hudson.

  “I have some sales associates over there, Russell. I could make some phone calls.”

  I thanked them both and headed for the door. I thought about asking Evelena if she knew Tommy was hip deep in motorcycle parts and was ‘on vacation’ from working on cars. I decided to keep my mouth shut.

  When I got home Soo Jin was coming in the back door with a big box of potatoes. Big red potatoes. We’d had a bumper crop of potatoes in the back yard garden. She said we had lots of squash and butterbeans coming on too. So we’d have plenty of vegetables to eat in the winter. Uncle Wallace had picked up a book on home canning from one of the county extension agents. Meanwhile, we still had plenty of canned fruit and vegetables from Grandma upstairs.

  Uncle Wallace was in the garden digging the potatoes up with a shovel.

  “Russell, did your Grandma teach you anything thing about canning? Soo Jin and I figure we could put up a heck of a supply. The potatoes will keep but the butterbeans need to be either canned or
frozen. If your plans go through, we might have some more hired hands to feed too.”

  I admitted she hadn’t. Truth to tell I had limited kitchen skills but she had taught me how to make delicious mashed potatoes. We had some that night, with butter and salt and I mixed in some canned peas. Soo Jin and Uncle Wallace wanted to know what my special seasoning was that made them so good.

  I allowed it was the grated cheese, garlic and the sweet cream I mixed in just before the peas. All together it was tasty along with the fried chicken Soo Jin fixed. We all ate until we could barely get up from the table.

  Afterwards we sat on the front porch and watched the barn swallows soar and dive over the soybean field. The cats were out in front, watching for grasshoppers and moths. Uncle Wallace had his whittling knife and made a gee-haw whimmy diddle for Soo Jin. She had never seen anything like that before and she laughed and laughed. I decided for the umpteenth time I would not sell this farm if the Devil himself promised me pretty girls, fame or all the money in the world.