Chapter 41: I Did?

“THANK YOU, NATE. That was heroic of you,” the woman partially under me shouted. I scrambled around to check on the woman I’d practically thrown onto the helicopter.

“Miss Lim! I didn’t realize it was you.”

“I think after that act you can call me Edna,” she gasped. “I think Bruce owes you thanks, as well.”

I turned to look at the guy who was still lying partially on the closed ramp. It was the lead passport agent from the consulate.

“I thought you were on an earlier flight, Bruce,” I said, offering him a hand. We all sank down to the floor. China cuddled up to me.

“I almost missed this one,” he said.

“I’m sorry I lost our luggage,” China whispered.

“You made the right choice, honey,” I whispered back. “We can get more clothes in ... wherever we’re going next.” I squeezed her to my side. That was definitely more of an adrenaline rush than I needed. It was four in the afternoon and I hadn’t had any coffee today.

“Do you have all your equipment and supplies?” Edna asked.

“Equipment, yes. As to supplies, we ditched nearly all the page fillers while we were still at the embassy. I probably have enough supplies to make a hundred or so passports and visas. The books will simply only have a cover and single interior page. Don’t ask for any ID badges. We abandoned all those supplies.”

“I would guess our work will continue once we’re on a ship,” Bruce said.

“I’m sure the ship will have a mimeograph. We’ll get another stencil made for affidavits,” Edna said.

“Will they let people out without them?” I asked.

“We have about everyone out from the DAO, but there are at least 2,000 people still at the embassy. There’s no one there to make visas now. Until they give the order to abandon everyone but American citizens, people with no papers will be getting on the helicopters,” Edna said.

“I hate to think we’d abandon anyone.”

“We won’t have a choice. I came over with the ambassador this morning when he inspected the airstrip. He insisted I just stay. You aren’t the only ones who left without your suitcase,” Edna said. “When we left the embassy this morning—it was about five-thirty—people were already trying to scale the walls of the compound.”

“It wasn’t pleasant, but we set fire to all unclaimed visas and passports before we left the consulate,” Bruce said. “We may have people we’ve already seen who don’t have papers.”

“I guess we’ll be on a ship for a while?” I said. “The plane we were going to be on was intended to fly to either Manila or Bangkok.”

“Helicopters don’t have that range, and they’re making as many trips back and forth as they can squeeze in.”

We could feel the pressure change in the hold and in a minute, there was a jolt as the helicopter came to a landing. The ramp came down and we gathered up what we were hauling to exit. We maintained an orderly line as we were processed in. That amounted to our papers being checked and being frisked for weapons. We were one of the first helicopters to land on the USS Blue Ridge and they moved us right along. As soon as we were off the helicopter, the chopper was in the air and headed back to Saigon.

Embassy staff were separated out from the others and led to a part of the ship where we would all have bunks or berths. I only understood about every fifth word the seaman used when giving us the tour. Why call a stairway a ladder? We were shown to a room with bunkbeds in it. Since China was my dependent, she was in the same room I was. Edna and another woman were given a room nearby. Bruce and another man were across the way. We were shown where the mess was and all grabbed food immediately. The Navy had pretty decent coffee.

By that time, the entire ship seemed to be jumping. Not all the helicopters were landing on the Blue Ridge. There were seventeen ships out in this part of the South China Sea and more were on the way. But plenty of the helicopters arrived on the deck, disgorged refugees, and lifted off again. It was a huge ship, but I heard in the mess that they were expecting to evac ten thousand people by helicopter before morning. Unbelievable.

As the ambassador’s secretary, Edna set about organizing his office so it would be ready when he got there. This was the command ship—flagship, I guess they called it. It was where everything would be coordinated. She set up both a consulate office and the ambassador’s office. Bruce, China, and I were the consulate on board.

Edna found the printing office on the ship. The whole place was designed for communications. There were electronics rooms with equipment I’d never seen before, and an entire printing office with presses. Edna got a pressman to set up the affidavit and they ran around 20,000 of them in a matter of two hours.

That set up my work with China. We started getting the affidavits sealed, using the same process we’d used in the consulate. In an hour, my arms and hands were aching. Trying to seal more than two documents at a time degraded the seal on the interior docs and was even harder to make an impression on. Two pages at a time meant I had to squeeze that device 10,000 times.

Bruce ran distribution. There were both helicopters and small boats running errands between the ships. Twenty thousand sounds like a lot of paper until you spread it out across twenty ships. There had been more coordination regarding where people were evacuated to than I imagined possible. David Conklin, the consul general in Saigon, was on a different ship. There was another consul general from Can Tho who had been flown out to one of the ships, and all the passport agents had been distributed to different ships if they weren’t already on flights to Manila.

I asked a guy sitting in front of a monitor with a headset on in the communications room if it was possible to call home. He laughed at me. Then he handed me a telex form and told me to complete the message and make sure I had the address correct. Well, I knew the address of the office in Chicago, so I composed a short note to Mr. Martin.

“Donald Martin, Deputy Assistant Secretary Passport Services. Please inform my family I am safely evacuated from Saigon and am aboard the USS Blue Ridge. Should be in Manila soon and will try to call from there. Last location of my family is unknown. Ronda May taken ill and evacuated from Oman. Remainder of family has left as well. Nate Hart.”

“Hart?” the communications guy said. “Related to the captain?”

“I don’t believe I know who the captain is,” I said.

“Captain Hart is in command of the ship. Rear Admiral Whitmire is the operational commander of the evacuation effort.”

“Thank you for getting my message out. My family hasn’t known where I am for a few weeks,” I said.

“Life of a sailor,” he chuckled.

Helicopters continued to come in through the night, all being dispersed among the twenty or so ships that were now on station. It started to rain around three or four in the morning, but they kept flying. Unfortunately, we hadn’t found any clothes yet. All China and I had was what we were wearing.

“There is no sense in pretending that you won’t see me,” China said. “I can’t wear my dress and brassiere to bed, and I know you can’t wear your shirt and slacks.”

With that she whipped off her dress and quickly unfastened her bra. I was tired, but I was not beyond being aroused.

“Well, please, undress so I don’t feel like an idiot,” she said, holding an arm across her boobs. I quickly stripped down to my shorts while she watched. She was blushing deeply. I turned and got into my bunk.

As if undressing hadn’t surprised me enough, China then pushed into my bunk with me.

“Hold me, Nate. Please hold me.”

“Of course, China. This probably isn’t the smartest thing for us to do. I mean, I understand the need to be held and all, but...”

“No man has ever seen me before. Not like you just did. I want that man to hold me.”

Well, what was I going to do? I held her, backed up to me in a spoon. I placed a soft kiss on her head and convinced myself to go to sleep.

At seven in the morning, a whistle or horn of some kind blew on the ship and then an all-hands announcement was broadcast.

“The ambassador is now aboard the Blue Ridge. All embassy personnel and their Marine guards have been evacuated from Saigon. Operation Frequent Wind, option four is now complete. All ships are to remain on station. We have many more refugees leaving the mainland in boats and in South Vietnamese Air Force helicopters. All ships will continue accepting refugees to their capacity.”

China rolled toward me and hugged herself to me. I kissed her forehead and she lifted her lips to me. It might have been the most chaste kiss I’ve ever had with a woman whose bare boobs were pressed into my chest. Then she rolled out of bed and grabbed her bra. She quickly fastened herself in while I pulled my slacks on and buttoned my shirt, facing away from her.

“Let’s find some coffee and take a look at the morning,” I said.

“Yes.”

We found our way back to the mess with a few hundred others. This was a big ship, though, and was well-prepared to feed a large crew. We got coffee and some eggs and bacon. I wasn’t going to turn down that treat. I inquired and was told it was fine to take coffee with me, but not to go spilling it and to bring the mug back to the galley. I put an arm around China and we went topside to see what the morning was like.

It was chaos! Helicopters were still landing and the deck was crowded. These were Vietnamese helicopters, not our Marines. As soon as a helicopter discharged its passengers, including the pilot, the crew rushed forward and pushed it into the sea to make room for the next one coming in. None of these choppers were going back to the mainland for another load. It was a one-way trip. Someone said the helicopters were being trashed so that the North Vietnamese would not assume they were being attacked from offshore, and another person said that it was so we wouldn’t just be giving the helicopters to the North Vietnamese. I guess maybe both might have been true.

When I looked out to see more choppers approaching, I also saw boats. They were still a long way away, but there had to be hundreds of them. Some of the helicopters were obeying signals diverting them to other ships. The prevailing mode, however was to get them down, get them empty, and get rid of them. The place was too busy to have observers standing around. I snapped a couple of pictures, then China and I went back to our little corner of the embassy office and started to work on sealing affidavits.

About ten o’clock, Bruce showed up with a line of people for visas. He had typed the templates and I opened up the equipment and got set up to take their pictures. I just had them stand against a wall because we hadn’t attempted to bring the background screen with us.

I processed people as quickly as possible and China retrieved the documents from the bindery. They looked pretty wimpy with no extra pages sewn in. It was just the cover and the data. She checked them over carefully to be sure everything came out clearly and then passed it to me. I pressed the seal into the document and handed it back to Bruce. He looked at it and handed it on to the applicant, who couldn’t believe he had a visa already.

Most of those landing during the morning were South Vietnamese military. It was likely that most of the soldiers would be treated reasonably by the conquerors. They had simply been fighting for their country and now they were all on the same side because the country had been reunified. Officers, pilots, and politicians, however, were not likely to be treated kindly—in fact might just as likely be executed on the spot. These had loaded as many members of their families and friends as they could cram into a helicopter and fled.

Once the main applicant had a visa, then his dependents could be claimed on an affidavit of support. That sounded like a real stretch of the rules to me, but I wasn’t enforcing a bunch of rules. I was trying to get people to safety and the job hadn’t ended yet. It didn’t look like it would soon.

We worked through the day. The next time I saw Bruce, he was in a golf shirt with the name of the ship on it.

“Where’d you get that?” I asked. “You didn’t bring a suitcase with you. We’re still wearing the clothes we had on Monday when we left the embassy. They’re getting ripe.”

“Take off as soon as we process these visas,” Bruce said. “The ship has a NEXCOM ship store and you can get some basic clothes there. Mostly souvenir clothes of the ship, but it’s better than having your clothes rot off your body. Better go quick, though, before everyone who landed wipes the shelves clean.”

We finished up the group Bruce had brought us and then locked up the equipment so we could go to the ship’s store. We had to ask directions a couple of times, but eventually we found the crowded shop. Bruce was right. A lot of people arrived aboard the ship with only the clothes on their backs. We found a few items, though, and rang up a sale.

Not much of the clothing was western. The golf shirts were popular and China and I both grabbed one of those. I got a pair of Bermuda shorts and a rather fancy shirt from the Philippines called a barong. It was a white collarless pullover with an embroidered front.

Getting clothes for China was more difficult. Most of the women’s clothes were traditional items from the various Asian ports that sailors bought to take home to their girlfriends or kids. I ended up buying her a barong that was long enough she could wear it as a dress. The fabric was thin, so I got her a pair of shorts and a T-shirt to wear under it. I bought a pack of underwear that would fit me and another of the smallest size they had for China. Fortunately, they had a lot of plain white T-shirts in all sizes. I guess the Navy guys all wore T-shirts. They didn’t have any bras, so the T-shirt would be vital for keeping China decent.

We went to the mess and ate, then found the showers. Hours for women’s showers were posted. The ship usually only had men on it.

We were a lot more relaxed when we hit the rack that night. China had an extra-large T-shirt and I had clean boxers. I was surprised, though, that she still wanted to cuddle up to me in my bunk. It was really nice holding her through the night.

“Nate, the ambassador would like to see you and China,” Edna said from our doorway.

So, the time had come to face up to my actions. At least we had clean clothes on, though our Filipino shirts made us look almost like twins. I could plead that the Secretary of State had approved my use of a State Department seal, but even then, I was supposed to be under the management of the ambassador. I just hadn’t seen him yet. I locked up the camera and supplies, put the seal in my courier bag, and followed Edna, drawing China along with me.

The ambassador’s office had a lot of people in it. In fact, I was impressed that this ship had meeting rooms large enough to host an entire embassy staff—or at least a lot of it. Even the embassy staff had been divvied up among the different ships. I’d already heard the DCM was on the USS Denver and the defense attaché was on the Hancock. The Marine Security Guards and their commander were on the Okinawa.

“Mr. Ambassador, Nate Hart and Nguyen Armor Xian are here to see you as requested,” Edna said.

The ambassador looked momentarily disoriented as he looked around his desk and then up at us. It was two o’clock in the afternoon on Friday and I had to wonder if the guy had any sleep yet. The evac had officially ended at seven Wednesday morning, but refugees were still afloat.

“Hart. Yes. Step up here. Did you come with any papers or credentials?” he asked.

“I presented my credentials to Consul General Conklin, sir. Since that was the office I was working in, it seemed appropriate not to bother you,” I said.

“Well, there is no longer an embassy in Saigon, so it’s no bother now. What is your rank?”

“I’m Senior Foreign Service Specialist, GS16,” I said. I hoped he wasn’t expecting a military rank.

“Senior Foreign Service Specialist. That’s a new one on me. Are you responsible for this?” he asked, shoving an affidavit at me.

I could have answered that in a number of ways that might have lessened my culpability. Edna had mimeographed them. The printing office had printed them. I understood that Major General Smith had composed it. But the truth was, he was looking straight at the embossed seal on the blank document.

“Yes, sir. I am,” I said.

“And you also manufacture passports and visas on the spot and stamp them with a State Department seal?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Congratulations. I thought you should know that through your efforts, we succeeded in evacuating over 70,000 Americans and Vietnamese dependents this month, 7,500 of them during Operation Frequent Wind, in less than fifteen hours.”

“Sir, I only stamped the documents.”

“A minute ago, you said you were responsible.”

“I didn’t want anyone else to be blamed for my ... actions, sir.”

“I’m recognizing all of you,” he said. “Have you looked out at the sea today?”

“Yes.”

“Intelligence estimates as many as another 60,000 people are still out there. We’ll need more of these affidavits. Miss Lim, what is the status of the next print order?” he asked his secretary.

“We expect another twenty thousand by this evening.”

“Put in the order for another print run immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

I looked over at her and saw her smiling broadly. The ambassador was acknowledging our effort and approving it.

“You, Miss Nguyen. You have papers?”

“I have only this,” she said, handing him the affidavit I’d signed for her.

He frowned for the first time.

“Mr. Hart, are you aware that this document is supposed to be used for immediate family? What makes you think you can simply bring an assistant with this?”

“Sir, Miss Nguyen is an American citizen, but she could not produce papers for the consulate to issue a passport.”

“How do you figure an American citizen? We were trying to get as many of our employees out as possible. You could have requested a visa.”

“Miss Nguyen was born in the embassy infirmary when it was on Ham Nghi Boulevard in 1955. Her father was an American Marine Security Guard who was transferred, probably not knowing his girlfriend was pregnant. Miss Nguyen, therefore, was born on American soil with an American parent. I believe that makes her a citizen.”

“Where are the papers?”

“Undoubtedly you are familiar with the bombing of the embassy in 1965. Her mother was killed in that incident and the papers regarding her birth were destroyed. She has, however, lived in the embassy compound her entire life.”

“That’s not going to fly with Immigration and Customs,” the ambassador said. He pulled another printed sheet of paper toward himself. “Nate Hart, do you agree to take responsibility for Nguyen Armor Xian, to guide her life in the United States, and to fiscally support her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nguyen Armor Xian, do you agree to accompany Nate Hart to the United States, to follow his guidance, and to live within his means as long as he is supporting you?”

“Yes, Mr. Ambassador,” China said.

He signed the paper and pulled out his own rather impressive embassy seal.

“Good. By the authority invested in me by the United States Government as Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to South Vietnam, I pronounce you man and wife. Kiss the bride and both of you sign this certificate of marriage.”

“Sir! I can’t...” I exclaimed.

“This is the way it is, Nate. Sign the papers and go make her an immigrant visa. When you get to the US and have fulfilled your obligations according to the affidavit of support you signed, you can get divorced. But if you want to get her into the US, sign the damn paper.”

I looked at him in astonishment. I was sure there had to be another way. I just couldn’t think of one. Well, like he said, we could get divorced once we were back in the US. I bent over the paper and signed it. I handed the pen to China and she signed it as well. Edna stepped forward to witness the signatures.