2-3 — Hercules C-130 aircraft
The back door opened and a whoosh of fresher air enveloped her. A man who wasn’t a soldier reached in and grabbed one of the boxes that held two tiny babies. Holding the box with care, he rushed to the ramp that led into the winged building. A woman came forward, and then another, and another. As each wrapped her arms around a box, Tuyet pushed the remaining boxes forward so they would be easier to reach. Soon, all the babies were out of the van and Tuyet was left sitting by herself. She wondered if she had been put in the van just to help with the boxes. Would she be going back to her old home now? Back to her special friend?
Other vans and cars pulled up. Workers ran up to those vans and quickly unloaded the children and babies with efficiency. Some older children hopped out, and Tuyet strained to see them more clearly.
But she recognized no one.
A cloud of orange hair poked into the back of Tuyet’s van. A hand fluttered to hold the hair in place briefly. Tuyet stared into startling blue eyes and a pink face damp with sweat.
“It’s your turn, now,” the woman said in Vietnamese. Tuyet scrambled toward the woman, who held out her arms to carry her. But Tuyet shook her head.
“I will walk,” she said.
Chapter Three
The Airplane
“What is that place?” asked Tuyet, pointing at the strange winged building.
“A giant airplane called a Hercules,” said the woman in Vietnamese. “It will go up into the sky and take us away from the war. It will take you to safety.”
Tuyet was amazed. The strange winged building was an airplane! She knew the sound of airplanes. She had heard their roar almost as often as she’d heard the wop-wop-wop of helicopters. But this airplane was bigger than her orphanage. She never imagined that an airplane could be so big.
Tuyet sat with her legs poised over the edge of the van door. Gingerly, she slid down, the heel of her weak foot landing painfully on the oven-hot tarmac. She hopped beside the woman to show she could move quickly, but her feet felt like they were burning up.
“Let me carry you,” said the woman. “The pavement is too hot for bare feet.”
When she was lifted up, Tuyet had a view of the entire airport and beyond. The airplane she was being taken to wasn’t the only one preparing to leave. She could see two others and lots of activity. Above her, the sky was black with spirals of smoke. Where was the black smoke coming from?
Tuyet scanned the lush green expanse of rice paddies beyond the airport runways. And then she saw it: the crashed remains of an airplane with smoke billowing out of it.
She pointed. “That airplane didn’t stay up in the air.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We will be safe.”
But how could Tuyet not worry?
The entry to the airplane was like a big angled ramp the width of a room. Tuyet clung to the woman’s shoulders as she was carried in. The woman set her down on the floor in the cargo hold amidst boxes of babies, canvas bags, straps, and crates of formula, food, and medicine.
The woman began to push the boxes of babies close together. In order to make sure the boxes wouldn’t slide around, she secured them with a long, sticky strap that looped over several boxes at once.
Tuyet saw that it was time to make herself useful. Without being asked, she copied what the woman was doing and strapped in a second row of screaming and wriggling babies.
Soon more people brought box after box through the wide door. Everyone scurried about, finding places for the babies and taping them in.
3-1 — Boxed babies strapped in place and ready for takeoff
The giant door closed and the inside of the airplane quickly became hot and stuffy. Worse than the heat was the smell of dirty diapers. Tuyet was used to heat and babies’ diapers, but she had never felt so closed in. Her heart pounded. Sweat trickled down her back, getting her shirt all wet. Her hair stuck to her forehead and neck.
The baby boxes covered the floor area of the cargo hold. On the upper level, a row of seats ran along the sides of the aircraft, close to the windows. A set of metal stairs connected the two levels.
Tuyet reached her hand out and caressed the baby closest to her, but as she cooed a lullaby into the baby’s ear, she heard a huge roaring sound. Her body trembled with terror. Was this airplane about to go up in flames like the one she had seen in the rice paddy?
Tuyet felt a hand on her arm. She looked up. It was one of the women who spoke her language.
“That’s just one of the engines,” the woman explained. “The pilot turned it on to cool the air. There are three more engines, so don’t be frightened when they start up.”
Tuyet nodded. Maybe it would be fine.
Just then, a small door at the front of the airplane was pulled open from the outside. Four North Vietnamese soldiers stepped in, armed with machine guns. They looked angry.
The woman appeared frightened, but she stood and walked up to the soldiers. “Everything is in order,” she said.
“We need to see their papers,” said one of the soldiers, pointing his machine gun at the babies and children.
The woman hurried to the cockpit and came back with a stack of forms. She handed them to one of the soldiers. He examined each form carefully, matching them up with the wrist straps as he did so. A baby not far from Tuyet had no wrist strap.
“You have no papers for her,” he said. “And no papers for that one,” he added, pointing to an older toddler who was trying to stand up in his box.
The woman’s face stayed calm and strong, but her lips were a pale thin line. “Just a minute.” She headed back to the cockpit.
For a minute, nothing happened.
Then, suddenly, one of the pilots burst out of the cockpit. He wore a fancy hat with gold braid, and his face was purple with rage. He hollered something in another language at the two soldiers.
The sight of the raging pilot terrified Tuyet, but it also startled the soldiers. They backed out of the door and ran down the steps. The pilot pulled the door shut with all his might and locked it from the inside, sighing with relief. He took off the hat with the fancy braid.
All at once, Tuyet understood. The pilot had tricked the soldiers into thinking he was an important commander who had to be obeyed. It made her smile.
The pilot went back into the cockpit and the woman stepped out again. She looked almost happy.
“You need to get into a seat,” said a different woman, who crouched down in front of Tuyet. “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?”
Tuyet was afraid that she might lose her balance and hurt the babies if she tried to cross the middle of the cargo hold without help. The babies and extra supplies were so closely packed together. Tuyet reached out her arms and the woman picked her up. She held Tuyet above the babies and helped her to the steps and into a seat by the window, not far from the cockpit.
“I will strap you in,” the woman said kindly.
For a moment, Tuyet’s heart thumped with panic. She did not want to be tied down. “Can I get out if I need to?”
“Of course you can. Watch.” The woman flicked the metal clamp with her finger and the seatbelt popped open. Tuyet tried opening and closing the seatbelt herself a few times. She began to relax.
“But you must be strapped in when the airplane takes off,” the woman added, then she straightened up and walked down the aisle.
At that moment, even though Tuyet was in an airplane jam-packed with babies and children—along with the adults who were working to save them—she felt utterly alone. She remembered the rosary her special friend had given her. Holding it would make her feel better. She reached into her pocket. But her pocket was empty.
The package was gone.
; The rosary must have dropped out in the van, or maybe later, when she was helping with the babies. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She tried to breathe slowly, to make the tears go away. She didn’t want anyone to see that she was crying, so she closed her eyes.
Her hands felt something soft. She opened her eyes. A cloth doll. She looked up. One of the women, smiling, hovered over her. Tuyet hugged the doll to her chest.
“Thank you,” she said, looking into the woman’s gold-colored eyes.
The woman patted Tuyet’s hand. “It’s going to be fine.”
Tuyet had never owned a doll before. The visiting soldiers sometimes brought dolls to a few of the children in the orphanage, but never to Tuyet. She held the doll up to her face and breathed in its fresh newness. For just a few moments, she was able to forget losing her friend, losing the life she had known. Maybe everything would be all right.
Tuyet looked out the window. From where she sat, she had a clear view of the smoking plane in the distance. She closed her eyes and clasped the doll to her chest.
The plane moved forward. Tuyet exhaled in relief. Soon they would be away from here. She didn’t know if she was looking forward to the future, but at least the uncertainty would soon be over.
The Hercules shuddered to a stop.
Tuyet opened her eyes and looked out the window. Two people stood on the runway, in front of the airplane! Didn’t they realize they might have been run over? How had they got past the soldiers and the fence?
Tuyet squinted to get a better look. The man wore the distinctive collar of a priest. He was holding tight to the hand of a girl who looked about the same age as Tuyet.
The pilot called out, “You’ve got to get out of the way!”
“You must take this girl with you!” the priest hollered back.
3-2 — Major Cliff Zacharias
“We’re not allowed to,” shouted the pilot.
“Then we’ll stand here in front of the plane.”
The cockpit door opened. The pilot stomped out, looking angry and frustrated. He unlatched the door at the front of the airplane and pushed it open. Moments later, the girl’s head appeared in the doorway.
Tuyet looked out the window, where the priest now stood alone. He bowed in thanks and walked off the runway.
The pilot led the girl to an empty seat in front of Tuyet and quickly strapped her in. Then he headed back to the cockpit.
The girl wept quietly. Tuyet leaned forward and said, “It will be okay.”
The second engine began to roar, then the third and, at last, the fourth.
“Get ready for takeoff,” called the pilot through the speaker system.
Tuyet leaned back into the seat and clutched her doll. Under her breath, she whispered, “Please let this plane fly, please let this plane fly.”
The Hercules moved again. From where Tuyet sat, she could see one of the giant wings. Suddenly, part of the wing folded down. Oh no! Was this how the other plane had crashed? Tuyet whimpered.
“It’s the wing flaps,” said the woman in the seat behind her. “They’re supposed to do that.”
Tuyet closed her eyes and repeated her wish, “Please let this airplane fly!”
Just as the wish left her lips, the Hercules lifted. It angled up to the sky so sharply that Tuyet could feel blood rushing to her head and the skin on her face pulling tight. The babies, who had been whimpering half-heartedly, began to scream. The airplane went higher. Babies cried louder. Tuyet felt like the plane was going straight up into the air. Her ears popped. She was afraid to breathe.
The plane leveled out. The babies stopped screaming and suddenly it was silent. Then the woman behind her said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “We’re safe now.”
Tuyet felt tears of relief rise in her throat. They were safe!
But she was still afraid.
Chapter Four
Linh
Once the plane was in the air, the adults unbuckled their seatbelts and went down the metal steps to get to the babies. Tuyet opened the buckle to her own seatbelt. It felt good to have it off. She leaned forward to speak to the sobbing girl.
“My name is Tuyet,” she said. “I am happy to meet you.”
It took the girl a moment to compose herself enough to answer. “My name is Linh*,” she said hesitantly. “I am happy to meet you as well, Tuyet.” [* Not her real name, which has been changed to protect her privacy.]
“We should help with the babies,” said Tuyet. “I can smell a lot of dirty diapers.”
That made Linh smile. “Good idea.”
Tuyet gingerly got out of her seat and made her way down the steps. Linh was not far behind. When Tuyet looked back, she saw Linh glance at her weak leg.
“Do you need help?” asked Linh.
“I can manage on my own,” said Tuyet. She hated it when people assumed she couldn’t do things because of her foot.
4-1 — Aid workers assist the children during the flight
Once she was in the lower part of the Hercules, Tuyet crawled on her hands and knees between the crying babies. It was so crowded with boxes and supplies that Tuyet did not want to risk losing her balance. The women didn’t have to tell her what to do. She changed diapers when she found them wet, and she gave bottles of water to babies who felt hot.
Linh stood by awkwardly, staring at the organized chaos all around her. She didn’t seem to know what to do.
“Take this baby,” said Tuyet, reaching into one of the boxes and thrusting a screaming baby into Linh’s arms. “She probably has gas. Hold her up to your shoulder and pat her on the back. Walk around. The movement will help.”
Linh followed instructions while Tuyet continued looking after the babies. Some time later, Linh came back, a sleeping baby in her arms. Tuyet gently took the baby from her and set him in his box.
“How do you know what to do with babies?” Linh asked.
Tuyet met her eyes. “I’ve been looking after babies for as long as I can remember.”
Linh continued to take directions from Tuyet and, between the two of them, they settled many babies. Being busy helped Tuyet relax. And with the company of Linh, Tuyet didn’t feel quite so alone.
As they worked, they overheard some of the women speak to each other in a language that they couldn’t understand.
“They’re speaking English,” Linh told Tuyet. “Be careful how you answer when people say things to you in English.”
“I don’t know any English,” said Tuyet. “How could I possibly answer?”
“Whenever someone asks you something in English, answer, No,” said Linh. “That will stop them from doing what they were going to do.”
Tuyet practiced the English word under her breath. It was hard to believe that one simple word could be the answer to everything in English, but she was grateful for Linh’s advice.
The great Hercules airplane landed in Hong Kong. Tuyet, Linh, and the others were taken to a hospital.
A man, who was dressed in white with a mask over his face, shone a light into Tuyet’s ears.
“Good,” he said in Vietnamese.
He listened to her heart and had her breathe in and out. He also examined her weak foot and leg, and that worried Tuyet. But he wrote something on his clipboard, and his eyes crinkled into a smile.
“You are healthy enough.”
Linh was examined next and she got the same good news.
Tuyet, Linh, and the babies and children declared healthy enough to travel were taken to a section of the Hong Kong hospital where they could rest and recover. For the next few days, they were bathed, dressed in clean clothing, and fed lots of good food.
4-2 — Tuyet and other children inside the Hercules during the flight. Capta
in Dessureault of 426 Squadron is in the foreground, holding one of the children.
The orphans who were too sick to travel were taken to a different part of the hospital for treatment.
After their few days’ rest, Tuyet, Linh, and the other healthy orphans boarded a Canadian Pacific flight. The boxes of babies, care workers, and children took up a good part of the airplane, but there were regular passengers on it, too. Many pitched in to help feed babies, change their diapers, and rock them to sleep.
There were more flights between Hong Kong and Toronto, but they all blended into one long dream. It felt as if time had stopped. Vaguely, Tuyet remembered singing songs with Linh and trying to get babies to laugh. She remembered feeding the older toddlers a rice and broth mixture, and that’s what she and Linh also ate. That, and plenty of bananas.
The airplane landed in Vancouver and they changed planes one last time. This time, it was an Air Canada commercial flight.
A few hours later, they arrived at the Toronto airport.
A care worker pinned on Tuyet’s shirt a piece of paper with the number 23 on it. Then the children and babies were taken off the airplane in numerical order.
4-3 — Aid workers helping some orphans in Hong Kong
The first thing Tuyet noticed when she approached the open door was cold air blowing on her face. Someone quickly draped a white blanket around her shoulders and she clasped it around herself for warmth. It was always hot and humid in Saigon; Tuyet had never felt air like this before. She gulped the breeze into her lungs as if it were a cool, soothing drink.
She sniffed the air, and the scent brought back a distant memory of freshly ploughed earth. No smell of smoke.
No sound of war.
Then Tuyet looked up into the sky, and she gasped. It was like a soft blanket of black, but she could see points of sparkling white light. Had the war followed her here?
She pointed up and asked a care worker who stood by her side, “Are those bombs?”
Last Airlift Page 2
