When Saigon Surrendered

by James Aura

  I was a little nervous about digging into the trash ditch. First, there might be snakes. And second, I felt a little nosey. I wondered how Daddy would feel about me rummaging around in some of his stuff, if there was actually anything of his left out here.

  There were several large trash bags in the ditch along with all kinds of junk. City folk have garbage collection. Country folk often take stuff and put it in a trash pile. This one had many years of junk. Old rusted appliances, broken jars, clocks. A fragment of one of my old cowboy toys. I wondered if plastic would ever deteriorate out here in the elements. At least most of the trash bags seemed to be intact.

  I pulled one of the bags toward me out of the ditch. A mouse came running out below it, immediately snagged by a very happy cat. I took off one of my gloves to better untie the knot on top.

  Inside were stacks and stacks of envelopes and what looked like letters. Also I could see there were old bills and church newsletters mixed in. I placed the bag on the wheelbarrow, and reached for another bag with the hoe.

  I remembered Uncle Wallace pointing out the trash ditch weeks ago. I felt a little bad that I was keeping him in the dark about my current activities. But sometimes it’s just better to keep the old folks out of it, I thought.

  The second bag was full of chewed up paper and mouse nests. It smelled bad. The cat was interested but I quickly tied it back up and threw it to the other side of the trash heap.

  I saw a shadow pass over me from above. It was the red-tailed hawk making her morning rounds. The hawk hovered on an updraft then headed for the woods.

  The sheep were grazing in the upland pasture with the cows. Big puffy clouds floated overhead and a light breeze came in from the west. Daddy and I had lived here with Grandma for as long as I could remember.

  I wheeled another plastic bag of trash up to the machine shed and dumped the contents out on the workbench. I sorted the bills and other chaff from the letters and began scanning for anything interesting. This batch had very little. A few cards and letters from distant relatives, recipe notes Grandma must have copied down from one of her radio shows, no big revelations about anything.

  I saved a few of the recipes, just couldn’t throw them away. They seemed like a part of Grandma. That woman could make amazing cakes and pies from just eggs, flour, milk and things like vanilla extract. I took the plastic bag back to the trash ditch and headed for the house. The rest of the trash could keep. I realized after Elaine’s phone call that I hadn’t been keeping up on Vietnam developments like I needed to.

  When I got back to the house, Soo Jin reminded me she had her dental appointment that day. We had gotten her fixed up with a dentist who was willing to do her false teeth at a discount. Evelena had set it up. His wife loved Evelena’s cosmetics and when she offered to supply them with ‘Pure Organic Raw Guernsey Milk’ for free for a month- he was willing to do the teeth for just fifty dollars. Evelena sure had a knack for marketing. She and Soo Jin had hit it off when she came to pick up the milk.

  I had cleared out a shelf in the second refrigerator just to hold the extra milk, since Evelena came to pick it up only once a week. We used gallon jugs that she got free from some other customer and she even suggested we get some stick-on labels printed. Something with happy cow faces and green grass.

  Uncle Wallace managed to give us a wan smile as we headed out to the pickup.

  “Good luck with those new choppers, Soo Jin.”

  She was excited about her trip to the dentist. We had gotten her dressed up with some new slacks and a blouse during a trip to Goodwill. I decided to head for the drugstore while she was at the dentist and pick up some news magazines, and reminded myself to watch Walter Cronkite more often in the evenings. As we drove into town I also wondered if Korean and Vietnamese people would get along well. I remembered reading about South Korean soldiers fighting in Vietnam alongside the Americans.

  The wheat harvest was a godsend. Despite the downpour in early June, the crop was nearly 30 bushels an acre. We cleared nearly $1,500. We shipped most of the lambs off to market, and kept a few to boost the flock. A return to college still wasn’t a sure thing, but it was looking more likely with each passing month. I even bought new tires for the pickup.

  Soo Jin was happy with her new teeth. It seemed like she was smiling all the time. She also learned to milk the cows. That was a big deal to me. Another set of hands to get the daily chores done in case I did go back to Auburn or another school.

  I had put the strategy dinner on hold for now. Uncle Wallace seemed to get upset every time I’d mention it and Soo Jin had decided she didn’t want to offend him. Those two seemed to be getting along very well by now. They had moved some of Grandma’s canned goods to a storage closet to make more room and were now sharing the upstairs bedroom.

  The news from Vietnam was grim. Thousands of people were still fleeing Communist Saigon:

  “A dark veil has been lowered around the country of Vietnam. We don't know much about what's going on inside. What we do know is that there continues to be a steady stream of fugitives- people fleeing the country in boats of all sizes. These people have become known as the boat people. Some head for islands near Malaysia, some for the Philippines and some drown, some starve and some are rescued.”

  It was a disaster in slow motion. It seemed like we Americans just wanted to forget about Vietnam. At least congress had passed the Indochina Migration and Refugee Assistance Act, so it appeared likely more of them would find a home in America.

  I was loading the manure spreader behind the barn, when I noticed the red-tailed hawk. It was again swooping down over the trash ditch. A reminder that I was putting off another round of plastic bag checks.

  When I finished spreading what Evelena called ‘natural organic fertilizer’ on the just harvested wheat fields, I parked the tractor and decided to take the shotgun and make another trip to the ditch that held so many things from the past.

  This time there were a bunch of letters with military postmarks and airmail stickers. I separated those out and placed them in a grocery bag to read later. Some seemed to be unopened. There were also some photographs and postcards. Those I placed in a second bag. As I carried my discoveries from the machine shop to the house, I had an odd feeling of being watched. It felt like Daddy or Grandma were peering at me from the great beyond.

  When I got back to the house I saw a jeep coming up the lane to the house. It was the guy who ran the hay baler, coming to schedule us on his calendar. That was another reminder of work to be done. The alfalfa field was ready for cutting and would need to be baled for hay immediately after. I stashed the bags in my bedroom closet and went out to the front porch. Uncle Wallace lurched out of his chair in the front room and came out the door with me. He was looking a little better.

  I was glad he had come, because I had no idea how to set up a deal with the hay baler. Uncle Wallace negotiated what seemed like a fair deal. The baler would get a third of the hay and we’d keep the rest for the cows and sheep next winter. Of course that meant there would be a couple of hundred heavy bales of alfalfa that we’d have to haul to the barn. Uncle Wallace would be in no condition to help with that, as yet. I’d need to recruit some hay haulers, and they’d have to be paid.

  I immediately went back to the bedroom and began to spread some of the envelopes and letters out on my bed. I lined up the ones that had dates on them in order, the others I placed back in the grocery bag. Between the letters, unopened envelopes and postcards there were over a hundred items, many with a very lightweight paper marked with red and blue stripes labeled ‘PAR AVION.’ On some, the lettering appeared to be an Asian language, maybe Vietnamese. But some had our local post office mark on them. I wondered if these might be from Kim. What would she think about this?

  I took the plunge and began to read them in chronological order. Letters to Daddy from someone named Linh Dao, written in English but with angular lettering. She was in the Vietnamese city of Huế, sending them to his Army P.
O. box. Apparently the Army sent all his correspondence back to our house later.

  The two seemed to have a history, but the nature of it was not immediately clear. She was asking him to help her and a sister get from Huế to Saigon before ‘it was too late.’ Each of the six letters carried the same plea, “Help us get out of Huế. They are coming.”

  The last one was unopened. From the postmark I could see it was forwarded to Grandma’s house after Daddy’s death. With trembling hand, I took my pocketknife and opened it.

  “Dear Bobby,

  We are giving up hope. Everyone fears the Communists will be here soon. Anh and I are still with our aunt and can still receive mail here, but how much longer, I do not know.

  I miss you so much and hope they haven’t shipped you home, yet. They say we should leave the country, since they will be looking for my father’s family again and all of the teachers, but we still wait to hear from you.

  The priest says we should come to Saigon anyway since our chance for safety might be better there, but I am still waiting to hear from you.

  All my love,

  Linh”

  Inside the envelope was a photo of two young Vietnamese women and written on the back were the names Linh Dao and Anh Dao. I thought maybe they were sisters. I wondered if they were still in Huế. According to the map Huế was several hundred miles north of Saigon. It would have fallen to the North Vietnamese Army at least a month before Saigon was taken.

  Daddy had been in a horrible battle around Huế several years previously. I decided to ask Uncle Wallace what he knew about Daddy’s time in Huế, but first, I felt duty bound to read more.

  There were indeed letters from Kim to his Army P.O. address in Saigon. These were romantic, even steamy. She was also urging him to request stateside duty and get out of Vietnam so they could ‘start a new life’ back home in Kentucky. There was even a hint of a very familiar perfume on some of the pink-tinged stationery. I thought about my Dad and Kim in bed, and then realized I was really imagining me with Kim. Excitement and guilt all over again.

  There were also a couple of letters from Grandma, bragging to him about how I was helping out so well on the arm and getting good grades. What I didn’t find, were any letters from him. I really wanted to get a better idea of what he thought about these women who were writing to him, or even what he thought about Vietnam during his last months.

  I looked up and saw Uncle Wallace standing in the doorway.

  “I see you finally decided to do a little detective work, Russell. You find anything interesting?”

  “Uncle Wallace, did Daddy ever talk to you about his women?”

  “Well I know he had some little gal in Vietnam he was very fond of. But I don’t know how serious that was. He had some other honey back here in the states, but he was pretty close mouthed about that. Maybe since so many around here remembered your mother.”

  “But Uncle Wallace, Momma passed away, gosh, 14 years ago.”

  “A fine woman, my sister was. Your Grandma spoke of her as if she was her own daughter. You find anything about me in there, Russell? Your Dad and I were pretty good buddies, for in-laws, that is.”

  “No, but I really just got started. I don’t know how much is more is out there. But there are some pretty sad letters from a girl in the city of Huế who somehow thought Daddy was to come to her rescue. I don’t know what happened to her when the Communists came through.”

  “There was a big massacre of teachers and others in Huế a few years back. The Communists really went after the English and science teachers. That city used to be the capitol of Vietnam. It has gone through a hell of a beating.”

  A brisk knock at the front door, told us that Evelena was dropping by to pick up the milk. Soo Jin rushed to get the door. I could hear them talking, then laughter as if they were sharing some joke. She and Soo Jin hauled several jugs of milk out to her car. I saw her hand Soo Jin a five dollar bill.

  Evelena was always in motion. She always seemed to be falling forward. I nabbed her before she could hop back in her Chevy Blazer and be out the lane. She was all spruced up in her business woman outfit, but she still had her tennis shoes on. I noticed a pair of high heels on the passenger side. She wore her hair in a bob; very efficient. She had on her fancy make up, and she smelled like honey locust blossoms.

  “Evelena, we sure appreciate your helping out with the raw milk. Things were pretty grim around here when the creek flooded.”

  She smiled as if she understood.

  “This raw milk is great! I think it tastes better and I bet it has more nutrition too. I’ve told the girls to mention it around to customers who might be interested, maybe we can sell some more.”

  The woman was selling all the time. I wondered whether she could sell moonshine, but decided to leave that up to Uncle Wallace.

  “Evelena, if you hear any gossip about the Feltons in town, let me know.”

  “You think they had something to do with your dog? It was their dog, originally, Tommy said.”

  “Just keep an ear out, OK? I think they are into some far flung enterprises and the more I know about them, the better. But yes, I sure would like to track down whoever shot that big dog. What were you and Soo Jin laughing about?

  “Oh, she just told me the milk this week was special because she milked some of it with her own delicate little hands. Russell, I know Soo Jin’s story. She told me about it last week. That’s terrible what happened to her. This is 1975. Women have rights!”

  With that, she cranked the Blazer and headed down the lane. I hoped I hadn’t set something into motion I would regret later. Evelena had acute judgment and strong opinions. She was a force to be reckoned with.

  I turned to go back in the house and saw Uncle Wallace sitting on the front porch.

  “I heard her say she knows about Soo Jin, Russell. This ain’t good. We need to keep all of that quiet.”

  “Well it was Soo Jin that told her about it, so maybe you’d better speak to her.”

  I motioned toward Soo Jin who was standing in the doorway.

  “Tell you the truth; I’d feel a whole lot better about this whole mess if you would explain how you came to be with Soo Jin in the first place. Don’t get me wrong, Soo Jin, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Soo Jin looked like she was fixing to cry. He reached for his tobacco pouch and looked up at the sky. The red-tailed hawk was soaring above the trees on an updraft.

  “Russell, there are some men who do not see the humanity of others. They are like wolves. Let’s save all that for another time.”

  I knew he would sidestep an explanation. I stomped around to the back of the house, came in through the kitchen door and went back to my room. I was angry with Uncle Wallace, but I also knew he had his ways, and the truth would probably come out in time.

  We got the hay hauled in, and the newly planted soybeans cultivated in the field where the wheat had grown. It felt like a full fledged farming operation, and strangely enough, I was running it. The fall term at Auburn would be starting up in a few weeks.

  I woke up one morning and realized it was my 19th birthday and there was nobody else in this world who would remember. So I called Elaine, hopped on the bus, and took the long ride to Auburn. It was a long trip, but not a terrible one. The bus went southeast, through rolling hills, covered with maples and Sycamores. It was a clear day and you could see the foothills of the Cumberlands in the distance.

  Along the way, one Baptist church was getting ready for a big fireworks celebration. The sign said 'light up the sky for Jesus’. Methodists would never do anything that flashy.

  Elaine was at the station to greet me in a canary yellow Ford Pinto. She seemed in high spirits and was charged up about her car.

  “Daddy got a deal on it and it gets really good mileage,” she said as she folded her long legs into the driver’s seat.

  Tommy, my resident advisor on common sense and all things mechanical, had little good to say about either the Pinto o
r Chevy’s little car, the Vega, but I kept my mouth shut. Plus I was the owner of my grandmother’s ancient Ford pickup truck, not exactly a sex machine. Elaine seemed tickled to have a car, and more importantly, tickled to see me. I was in no hurry to throw cold water on that.

  The campus was quiet this time of year. The big wave of students for the autumn term hadn’t yet hit. But the place still had energy, a buzz that you just didn’t get on the farm.

  “I got some hamburger, Russell, and some wine. We can cook out on the grille and have our own little party. How’s that sound?”

  She flashed me a big smile.

  “Sure is good to see you, Russell. It has been lonesome around here with no Russell Ray Teague to tell me about the Vietnamese refugees. I’m glad you came down.”

  I told her I couldn’t think of anything much better than spending the evening with her.

  She blushed and her hand came to rest on my knee. Just about then we drove past the sorority house where a certain miniskirt-wearing Spanish tutor had residence. I wondered to myself if Roxanne was in town. Auburn was full of good-looking women. It was late in the season but even so, I felt the sap rising.