Small Bamboo Read Online Free PDF Page A

the North Vietnamese in the jungles for months. But with the Fall of Saigon approaching, many South Vietnamese soldiers had gone into hiding to avoid capture. Grandma somehow found out that Uncle Four was still alive and she didn’t want to leave Vietnam without him.
    Uncle Twelve came to Uncle Three’s office that morning, desperate to work out a plan and contact their family members. Then Uncle Three’s phone rang. It was the Air Force Commander. They had a very brief conversation and Uncle Three hung up the phone like a man defeated.
    ‘What’s happened?’ Uncle Twelve asked his brother.
    ‘We have to leave now,’ Uncle Three replied.
    ‘We have to get the others,’ Uncle Twelve said, but the sad expression on his brother’s face told him that time had run out.
    Uncle Three explained that they had no choice—the Air Force Commander wanted them to leave immediately. There was no hope of getting their family out of Saigon with them.
    It was just before 9 a.m. when Uncle Three started preparing the Hercules for departure. Their destination was Utapao, the US Air Force base south of Bangkok, Thailand. He felt like a robot, going through all the motions of readying the aircraft which he’d done so many times as a pilot, all the while thinking about his family. Uncle Twelve, his co-pilot, worked alongside him while the air force crew loaded the plane. It was filled with mainly military personnel and their families, but the brothers had only each other.
    Then Uncle Three, realising that something wasn’t right, did a head count and found that the crew had put 212 people on board. The Hercules was designed to carry a maximum of only 100 troops fully loaded with gear.
    Uncle Twelve started to panic, telling Uncle Three they’d have to reduce the number of passengers or the plane would be unable to take off. But Uncle Three just shook his head.
    ‘I can’t ask people to get off,’ he said. ‘We have to do this. We need to get these people out of here. We must all go together.’
    Uncle Twelve told me that his brother appeared so calm at this point, but Uncle Three revealed that while he might have looked calm, all the while he was thinking, How the hell am I going to do this!
    Not only was the Hercules severely overloaded, but the runway was shorter than usual, which made the task even more difficult for Uncle Three. As the Hercules roared towards the end of the runway, for a moment Uncle Three didn’t think they would make it. With so many people on board, the plane simply didn’t have the power to take off. Then, just as they hit the end of the runway, the engine suddenly surged and they were in the air. Many of the passengers screamed with fright but the brothers just let out a huge sigh of relief and collapsed back into their seats.
    Uncle Three informed his passengers that they were safely away. There was a short burst of cheering and laughter, but the mood quickly changed as sadness sank in. These people were leaving their homeland, unsure if they could ever return, and even if they did come back one day, what would be left of their country? It would not be the same as the one they loved. Nothing would ever be the same again.
    The plane landed safely at Utapao and, after a brief stay, a US Air Force aircraft flew the group to Guam where they would each be processed by immigration and then eventually sent to the United States. They arrived in Guam on the day of the Fall of Saigon—30 April 1975. Constantly on my uncles’ minds were their parents, brothers and sisters who were still in Vietnam; Uncle Twelve’s wife also remained in Saigon. They were very tempted to contact them, to tell them they had escaped. But it was just too risky.
    Unlike many of their compatriots who remained in Guam for days or weeks while being processed, Uncle Three and Uncle Twelve left that night for Camp Pendleton in California. Uncle Three was reunited with his wife and five children while Uncle Twelve hoped he would soon be