Tuấn Cao-Đắc (Danlambao) - The following is the short story "THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS" ("NHỮNG CHIẾN SĨ CHO TỰ DO") (Cao-Đắc 2014, 256-285) in the short story collection “FIRE IN THE RAIN,” (Cao-Đắc, Tuấn. 2014. Fire In The Rain. Hellgate Press, Oregon, U.S.A.) Every story in “FIRE IN THE RAIN” is accompanied by relevant historical and factual notes. The Vietnamese version is translated by the author from the English original text, "FIRE IN THE RAIN." "THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS" is a fictionalized account of what happened to the boat people who escaped from Vietnam in the late 1970s and early 1980s, as told by survivors and witnesses in the largest exodus of civilians in the history of mankind in peace time.
THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS
The Year 1980
Somewhere near the Gulf of Thailand, 1980
Ominous clouds darkened the sky. Rain poured down, splattering onto the wooden planks and striking everybody with vicious might.
Gusts of wind blew in succession. The boat, twelve meters long and three meters wide, swayed violently under the waves. In the tiny boat, fifty-three exhausted men, women, and children glued themselves to the open floor and inside the hold under the lower deck, pressing against one another. Some women closed their eyes tight and muttered incomprehensible prayers. The children clung to the adults.
The wind became violently strong, blew loose objects overboard, and ripped people’s clothes off their bodies. A white shirt soared into the air and tumbled into the water like a kite losing its tether. A scarf was blown off the head of a woman and got stuck on a pole by the deck. The woman stood up, trying to catch her scarf, but a man grabbed her arm and pulled her down.
Toàn squeezed Liên’s hand. “Remember, lock your wrist onto the latch.”
She nodded. He lowered his head and spoke into Kiệt’s ear. “Hold tight to my arm and never let it go.”
“Yes, Dad,” the boy said, nestling closer against his father’s arm.
The wind grew stronger by the minute, causing the boat to sway more and more. Water splashed into the hull and streamed onto the deck, soaking everybody.
Toàn gripped Kiệt with his right arm. His left hand held on firmly to the small metal latch nailed onto the floor. Liên’s arm was wrapped tightly around his left arm. He looked down and saw Liên’s wet wrist curved around the other latch. We are safe.
Just when he caught a glimpse of Liên’s damp disheveled hair stuck on her face, a huge wave struck the boat violently, knocking him off balance. Then, one after another, the seas pummeled the boat from all directions with neck-snapping violence. The tiny boat went up and down in deep valleys and mountains of water. People were jolted at each vertical push, screaming as they flew down into the trough. Children cried, clinging onto their mothers who now shouted their prayers desperately, begging their Gods and Buddhas to protect them. Ignoring their pleas, the foam-topped waves swallowed the boat in gigantic gulps and spit it out on the water over and over. The boat was tossed up, twisted around, and dropped down in one huge wave after another. The ten-meter beasts of the angry sea flung themselves at the boat as if they had a score to settle with it.
Toàn loosened his grip around Kiệt. Water flooded the boat. Thick raindrops saturated the air, blinding him. People screamed frantically around him amid the deafening sounds of the seas pounding on the wooden planks. A man tumbled against him, his weight pressing him down, nearly pushing his left arm out of the latch, but he was able to hang onto it. He felt Kiệt slipping away from him. A man’s leg kicked his face, almost knocking him unconscious. He squirmed, trying to use his chest to push the man away while his right hand grasped Kiệt’s wrist.
“Kiệt, Kiệt, hold on tight,” he shouted, but his voice was lost in the howling wind tearing at his face with suffocating foam and spindrift.
He felt Kiệt’s hands reaching for his arm. He pulled Kiệt to him. The boat jolted to one side. A surge of water splashed onto his face. The man slipped away from him and relieved the weight on his left arm. He gripped the latch with his fingers and pulled himself closer to Kiệt. Kiệt fell onto him and he squeezed the boy’s body with his arm.
At that moment, he realized Liên’s arm was no longer clutching his left arm. He looked up and saw an empty space beside him.
Liên was gone.
Liên was one of the twenty-five ill-fated people who were swept into the sea during the two-hour cruel storm. Toàn was devastated. Although they had anticipated disasters, loss of life was something nobody could be prepared for.
The sea had calmed down in the past two days, leaving no sign of its merciless destruction. The tiny boat continued its journey on the immense water. The storm had damaged the upper part of the hull, but miraculously, it had left the engine intact. Long, the helmsman and organizer of the escape and a former South Vietnamese officer, had checked the engine and it appeared to be functional, at least for now. But there was a problem. He had lost his compass and maps in the storm. Without navigational aids and no reference point, he could only guess the general direction based on the sun at sunrise and sunset, a crude estimate that might be off by hundreds of kilometers. A more serious problem was their dwindling supply of food and water. During the storm, the container that stored the major portion of the food and water had been broken, releasing all its contents into the water. They now had only a smaller one that had some rice and fish for perhaps one more day. Their water supply was down to half a small bottle. Each person could now only get a few drops each day.
They had been exhausted for more than five days, experiencing all the terrifying conditions, first the sickening confinement in the small hold full of filthy stuff, the seasickness and the vomiting, then the horrifying storm, and now thirst and starvation. Some of them were now at the brink of death. Their already slim chance of survival decreased by the hour and they were still nowhere close to their destination. From Long’s best estimate, it would take them another four days to reach Malaysia, assuming they were going in the right direction.
The sun rose high in the brazen blue sky with its clumps of white clouds. Exhausted men, women, and children lay motionless on the floor and in the hold. Toàn sat on a broken wooden deck at the stern and watched the sparkling surface of the water.
He must have been sitting still for a long time because when Kiệt came to him, he felt a numbness and tingling sensation in his legs for lack of blood circulation. Kiệt handed him a clump of rice. “Dad, you have to eat.”
He looked at the rice. “No, I am not hungry. You eat it.”
He lied to the boy. He hadn’t eaten for two days, ever since the storm. But he had endured hunger during his three years in the reeducation camp and got used to starvation. His stomach was empty, but his eight-year-old son needed the food more than he.
The boy hesitated. “Are you sure?”
He smiled. “Don’t worry about me. I am used to it. Go ahead and eat it.”
Kiệt put the entire clump in his mouth and swallowed.
Toàn pulled his son into his arms. Kiệt was all he had left now. The boy had been remarkably strong about the loss of his mother. He hadn’t cried much; perhaps he had been prepared for the worst and somehow was able to control his emotions. Toàn and Liên had talked to him months before the escape, and explained that anything could happen, including the possibility that all three of them could die.
The day before the departure for the escape, Liên had said something that was prophetic. She was packing their things in a small bag. She paused while looking at a small statue of Buddha she was holding and asked, “Between Kiệt and me, who would you save if you had a choice?”
Toàn hadn’t thought about that question before, and he didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.”
“Toàn, you have to promise me one thing,” she said with a sudden earnestness. “If you have a choice, I want you to save Kiệt. Do you promise me that?”
Toàn gazed at her, but didn’t reply. She stared at him, waiting.
“Alright, I promise,” he said.
She smiled with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. It was also the last smile he saw on her face.
That promise now suddenly came back, haunting him. He looked at the vast calm ocean, the blue sky, the expansive air, wondering if she had decided to slip away from him in the storm so that he could focus on Kiệt. The thought shook him and in an uncontrollable moment, he sobbed.
Kiệt looked into his father’s face. He had seen him cry before, but not with agony like this. His father bit his lip, trying to contain the emotional outburst, but his body trembled, his shoulders sagged, and tears rolled down his hollow cheeks. He wanted to cry with his father, to share with him the loss of the person most dear to them, but he couldn’t. He had no more tears, literally.
At eight, he already knew how miserable his life would be if he continued living in Vietnam under the brutal communist regime. Since the release of his father from the camp, the police had caused his family a lot of trouble. They would spy on them and drop by without advance notice, asking questions or demanding little favors, such as a pack of cigarettes or a bowl of noodles. One policeman even asked him to wash his motorcycle. His father could not find a regular job and had to work as a janitor at a local hospital. His mother sold cigarettes and bottles of juices around town. Every morning, he would wake up early at six o’clock to help his mother load stuff on her small cart and accompany her on her rounds. He and his mother would walk on the streets for hours, resting for lunch, sharing a small bowl of rice and fish sauce. He couldn’t go to school because of harassment from the school officials, and as a son of a military officer of the former puppet government, even if he went to school, he would not advance too far. Besides, he couldn’t concentrate on studying when his mind was filled with worries about how his Mom would sell her wares without him.
A shout from a man at the bow startled them. “Ship! Ship!”
They looked in the direction the man was pointing. A ship appeared in the distance. Long tried to steer the boat to follow the ship. Toàn and Kiệt rushed to the side of the hull and waved their hands.
“Can they see us?” Kiệt asked.
“I hope so,” Long said.
Other people joined them. One man waved his white shirt, the only object that they could use to attract attention. The rest of the people were lying on the floor of the hull. They were too tired to stand up. An old woman with a black scarf covering her head opened her eyes and smiled as if she was grateful that her prayers had finally been answered.
Their hopes soon shattered. The ship floated away from them. It was obvious that the people on the ship didn’t see them. Their boat was too small, a tiny dot on the immense water.
They were disappointed but didn’t give up hope. They had heard that there were many ships and boats traveling in this area toward Malaysia, Thailand, and the Philippines. They comforted each other with assurances that there would be another ship.
That night, the old woman with the black scarf died. She had no relatives. Her daughter and son-in-law were among the twenty-five people who had perished in the storm. Toàn and Long said brief prayers before tossing her cold skinny body overboard.
The next day, the sea was calm, but a young boy died. He had been weak ever since the storm. His mother had no more tears to cry and didn’t want to leave him. Long had to tell her that they had to bury him at sea. Toàn and Long held a brief funeral ceremony for him before sliding his cold body into the water on a small sheet of cloth. His mother reached out her hand, trying to grab him back, but she could only hold the sheet and watch his small body float on the water with listless eyes. He was the last son she had. Her two other children and her husband had been lost in the storm.
That evening, Long told Toàn that their fuel was running low and the engine could quit shortly.
“How long do you think it will last?” Toàn asked.
“Maybe another hour.”
“What do we do then?”
“Just wait for ships to come by and rescue us.”
It was their last hope. They were probably halfway. Ships and fishing boats might be around.
At midnight, the engine quit. The boat floated on the water, drifting aimlessly in the immense sea.
Food and water were completely gone the following day. Toàn and Long tried to make a fire to distill sea water, but to no avail. After the storm, anything that could be useful was gone. No bark, leaves, or wooden sticks. The sea was calm, but there was nothing left on the boat.
The next day they witnessed the death of a young girl in her twenties. After surviving the storm, she succumbed to death because her body could no longer endure the hunger, thirst, and physical fatigue. Toàn and Long went through the ritual of saying brief prayers before tossing her body into the water.
In the next five days, two more people died. They were both men in their forties; one was a former military officer of the South Vietnamese army. The physical fatigue from working around the boat, fighting against the storm, bailing out the water, fixing the damage, coupled with their refusal to eat so that their wives and children could use their rations, had finally claimed their lives. Their wives couldn’t cry. Their four children, ages six to fifteen, didn’t even know. They were exhausted themselves and lay flat on the floor with their eyes closed, waiting for their turns.
That night, Toàn sat at the bow, wondered how long Kiệt and he could last. He looked at the dark sky and thought about Liên. Where are you now? We will probably see you soon. He touched the Buddha pendant around his neck. Liên had put it on him the day of the departure.
“Buddha will help you,” she said.
“You should keep it on you.”
“I have Buddha in my heart.”
He felt the small statue with his thumb and index finger. You are now in Heaven. Help me and Kiệt go through this. He wanted to cry, but he had no more tears. He blinked.
A beam of light appeared from a distance. He jolted. Could he be dreaming? He rubbed his eyes. The beam became brighter and larger.
“Ship!” he shouted, breaking the silence.
Long jumped forward and turned on his flashlight, the last one he had. He waved the flashlight while shouting. “Help! Help us!”
Toàn and two other men joined him. Together, they waved and screamed with their last remaining strength. The light got bigger and bigger. Soon, a large boat appeared. Silhouettes of people moved on the upper deck.
Toàn was excited. He looked at Kiệt, who was lying in a fetal position by the side of the deck, sound asleep. He didn’t want to wake him.
“Who are these people?” a man asked, his voice worried.
Toàn thought of pirates. The thought stiffened him. But there was nothing he could do. Everything was now in God’s hands. They had nothing left.
It was a large fishing boat with a dozen men on board. When they were about five meters away, two shirtless men threw a rope with a hook at the tip to them. Long and Toàn tightened the rope on the rail of the deck. The men pulled the rope and their tiny boat glided to the side of the fishing boat.
“Please help us,” Long said to the shirtless men in Vietnamese and English. “Please take us to land.”
The men talked among themselves in a strange language. It sounded like Chinese, perhaps a Malay dialect. Toàn looked at them, and his heart beat faster.
One of the men, perhaps the leader, a bearded middle-aged man, shouted to them in broken English. “No land. Food? Oil?”
“Can you take us to land?” Long shouted back.
The bearded man shook his head. “No land. No go.”
Toàn was relieved. The way the man talked didn’t seem threatening, as if they were pirates. But why would they want to come to them? Soon he knew the answer.
“Gold?” the bearded man asked.
Long knew what he meant. He was asking for gold or jewelry. The day after the storm, Long had asked everybody to turn in everything they had with them. He had collected some gold pendants, watches, earrings, and a few gold foils. Except for two women who had refused to give up the rings on their fingers, saying they were family souvenirs, everybody had been cooperative.
Long turned to Toàn. “Should we give them what we have?”
“I think we should,” Toàn said. “They don’t seem to want to rob us. They probably just want a fair trade.”
“I’d say we should give them the pendants and the watches. We need to keep the rest, just in case.”
“Fine, let’s tell them.”
Long offered the pendants and the watches. The bearded man nodded and ordered one of his men, a young man with a moustache, to jump into their boat. The moustached young man swept his flashlight to inspect the boat. Seeing the corpse-like women and children lying around, he shook his head in disbelief. Long took him below the deck and tried to tell him about the engine and the fuel. He came back, standing on the deck and shouted to the bearded man.
After some exchanges, the bearded man ordered his men to carry a can of fuel, jugs, two boxes, and several large plastic bags to the boat. Toàn and his men immediately opened the plastic bags. To their delight, they saw rice, noodles, fish, and shrimp. The food and water should be enough to feed them for a few days. When Toàn opened the boxes, he almost cried. Two flashlights, a knife, some spoons and forks, bowls, cups, cigarettes, lighters, and an assortment of kitchen items were inside. They were dirty but what else could he ask for?
Long asked the young moustached man to help him work on the engine to make sure that it would work. Within a few minutes, the engine was alive with vibrations and loud noise. Everybody smiled with relief.
When Long tried to give the moustached young man the pendants and the watches, the young man waved his hand and said, “No, no.”
Long thought he wanted more. “That’s all we have.”
But the young man pointed to his boss and kept waving his hand. The bearded man smiled and waved to them. Toàn and Long looked at each other, not knowing what he meant.
The men removed the rope and climbed back up to their boat. Before leaving, the moustached young man patted Long’s back and extended his hand for a handshake. It appeared to be a universal language. Friendship.
Long shook his hand in tears. “Thank you, thank you very much.”
The fishing boat moved away. They waved good-bye to each other. Toàn stood at the side, watching the fishing boat fade into the darkness. The light on their boat got smaller and smaller until it disappeared.
Right at that moment, Toàn realized that he had forgotten one important thing.
“The compass,” he said to Long.
Long’s eyes opened wide. “Damn! How could I forget that?”
The next two days were beautiful. The white clouds, the blue sky, the food, and the fresh water gave everyone energy and renewed hope. The women and children had recovered. Some were able to sit up or walk around. The men sat on the rear deck, smoking cigarettes. They had lost several days due to the storm, disorientation and engine failure, but now they were on track and should see land in two days, or even sooner. That’s what Long said to everybody. He had observed the sun at sunrise and sunset carefully.
They saw more and more ships, but none of these ships stopped. Long told them not to worry because they had enough fuel, food, and water for at least another day. The appearance of almost a dozen ships and boats in one day also told them that they were approaching the shore. With that thought, everybody was enthusiastic. The men and the women tended to the children and they clapped their hands and sang. Kiệt joined them in the singing. It was a popular song pre-1975. The title was “Vietnam, our country of proud people” (Việt Nam Quê Hương Ngạo Nghễ).
Ta như nước dâng dâng tràn có bao giờ tàn
Đường dài ngút ngàn chỉ một trận cười vang vang
Lê sau bàn chân gông xiềng cuộc đời xa xăm
Đôi mắt ta rực sáng theo nhịp xích kêu loàng xoàng
Ta khua xích kêu vang dậy trước mặt mọi người
Nụ cười muôn đời là một nụ cười không tươi
Nụ cười xa vời nụ cười của lòng hờn sôi
Bước tiến ta tràn tới tung xiềng vào mặt nhân gian
Máu ta từ thành Văn Lang dồn lại
Xương da thịt này cha ông miệt mài
Từng ngày qua, cười ngạo nghễ đi trong đau nhức không nguôi
Chúng ta thành một đoàn người hiên ngang
Trên bàn chông hát cười đùa vang vang
Còn Việt Nam, triệu con tim này còn triệu khối kiêu hùng
Ta như giống dân đi tràn trên lò lửa hồng
Mặt lạnh như đồng cùng nhìn về một xa xăm
Da chan mồ hôi nhễ nhại cuộn vòng gân tươi
Ôm vết thương rỉ máu, ta cười dưới ánh mặt trời
Ta khuyên cháu con ta còn tiếp tục làm người
Làm người huy hoàng phải chọn làm người dân Nam
Làm người ngang tàng điểm mặt mày của trần gian
Hỡi những ai gục xuống ngoi dậy hùng cường đi lên
We rise up like high tides that won’t retreat
The long road, merely a laughable feat
We drag our feet shackled by distant pains
Our eyes glitter with the sounds of clanking chains
We stir up chains right before every eye
The lasting smile is one of a sad cry
The distant smile is one of boiling rage
We step forward, tossing chains at their faces
Blood from Văn Lang pours together
Bones and flesh from our forefathers
Every day, we laugh haughtily in our endless anguish
We are a crowd of proud people
On sharp nails, we sing, laugh out loud
Vietnam lives, so do millions of our proud hearts
We are people walking on glowing coals
With cold faces, we look to the same goals
Our pulsing veins roll under sweaty skin
With blood-dripping wounds, under sunlight we grin
Tell our children to be the righteous
Choose to be the South, to be the glorious
Our bold fingers point at them without fear
Rise up and walk tall, those who collapse, our dear!
A young girl about fifteen stood watching the children sing. Her father was one of the two men who had died after the storm. Toàn walked over to the girl.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Uncle Toàn, my name is Kim Anh,” she said with the usual politeness of girls her age when addressing an older man.
Toàn’s heart tightened at her joyless face and her grief-stricken eyes. When he and Long tossed her father’s body into the water, she had been ill. Later, when she got better and learned of her father’s demise, she showed no emotion and just sat by the side of the boat and stared at the sea for a long time.
“Are you hungry?” Toàn asked, trying to find ways to cheer her up.
“No, uncle Toàn. I am fine.”
“We are almost there.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes, I think we are lucky. God will help us.” He saw a cross pendant hanging around her neck.
“I’ve been praying to Him.”
Toàn rubbed her head. “Yes, God is listening to you.”
He sat on the deck at the prow and lit a cigarette. The boat was moving at a slow speed, perhaps about five to eight kilometers an hour. At this speed and assuming they were heading in the right direction, they should see land by tomorrow evening.
He saw a tiny dark spot in the distance. It could be a ship. He focused his eyes, but couldn’t tell if the spot was moving.
“Long,” he called out.
Long came right to him. “What’s up?”
He pointed to the spot. “Do you think it’s a ship?”
Long squinted his eyes. “Maybe.”
They stared at the spot for a while but it appeared not to be moving.
“Could it be an island?” Toàn asked.
Long didn’t reply right away. His eyes were fixated on the spot, which now became a thin strip.
“My God, it’s an island,” Long exclaimed.
Everybody rushed forward. The children craned their necks behind the adults.
“Yes, it’s an island.”
“A small island.”
“What island is this?”
“I don’t know.”
Toàn looked at Long. “You said that if we see land, whether an island or not, it means we have reached our destination. Is this Malaysia?”
Long frowned. “That’s what I am trying to figure out. It can’t be.”
“Why not?”
“From what I calculate, we are still at least one hundred and fifty kilometers from Malaysia.”
“Maybe we went fast.”
Long shook his head. “I don’t think so. I know how fast we are moving.”
They looked at each other. A terrifying thought crossed Toàn’s mind. He hesitated. “We might be off course and heading into Thai waters.”
He had heard of horrifying stories about Thai pirates. A few boats had been robbed by the pirates soon after they left Vietnam. Some people made it back and told their friends about their ordeal.
“Let’s prepare for the worst,” Toàn said, his soldier’s instincts kicking in.
Long gathered everybody together. He looked at their faces and spoke with a grave voice. “There is a chance that we are off course and entering Thai waters. I know you have been prepared for this, but I want everybody to be ready in case Thai pirates come after us.”
Everybody was agitated.
“You said we are going to Malaysia,” one man said.
“It doesn’t matter where we are going. Thai pirates are the worst, but pirates are everywhere.”
“What do we do now?” a woman asked in a weak voice.
“First, do not resist them. Give them everything you have. If they find out we are hiding something valuable from them, they will get angry and kill us all.”
The women gasped. The men shook their heads.
“Second, all women and girls must make themselves repulsive. Smear your faces and bodies with dirty and filthy stuff. You can use the engine oil in the deck. Cut your hair short. Remove all jewelry, earrings, rings, and anything that might attract their attention.”
“Does that include the girl children too?”
Long let out a long sigh. “All girls, regardless how old they are.”
Everybody’s face sank.
“Lastly,” Long said, “the men should not fight back. Give them what they want and they will leave us.”
They didn’t waste any time. The women and young girls, ages ten to seventeen, went down to the deck and did what Long said.
Toàn pulled Kiệt into a corner. “Do you understand what might happen?”
Kiệt nodded. “Yes, Dad, you’ve told me many times. I am well prepared for it.”
Toàn squeezed his son’s hand. Yes, he and Kiệt had prepared for it. For six months before departure, he had taught his son survival skills and how to swim. They had practiced swimming, running, and even fighting. He hoped they would not have to use any of these skills.
Toàn had kept the knife given to them by the men on the fishing boat. It was a small kitchen knife. Its blade was about ten centimeters long, with a sharp tip. He took it out, wrapped it with a plastic bag, and tied it firmly around his ankle.
In thirty minutes, everybody was ready. The women and girls’ faces were covered with black oily stuff. Several men and boys had done the same thing so that they all looked alike. Some women even spread fish and shrimp waste all over their bodies. The stench was intolerable.
The thin strip now appeared in full view as a small island. Some hills and trees stood behind sandy beaches. The island appeared uninhabited, with no sign of human activity.
They were anxious, not knowing what was waiting for them on the island, but the thought of being able to walk on land, get out of the crowded tiny boat, away from the stinky confinement, even without the hope of being rescued, gave them tremendous joy. As they approached the island, Long steered the boat to avoid some large rocks. The clear blue and greenish water mesmerized everybody. They all forgot about the danger, the exhaustion, the vicious storm, the near-death experiences, and their lost loved ones. What they saw was a land of paradise.
Then, it happened.
A large boat appeared out of nowhere. By the time they saw it, the boat was heading toward them at high speed. Its engine roared as it came near them. The outer surface of the hull was decorated with painted pictures of dragons and eagles. A dozen men stood around the hull, and on top of a square cabin were large nets and tall bundled bamboo poles.
When he saw the shining machetes and long knives held by shirtless muscular long-haired and dark-skinned men in loose dark trousers and sarongs, Toàn knew they were in deep trouble.
The lightning assault caught everybody off guard.
Long was the first victim when he stepped forward to face them. A scar-faced pirate in black trousers chopped Long’s face with his machete as soon as he jumped into the boat. Blood spurted out everywhere. Long collapsed, twitching on the floor like a fish out of water. People screamed frantically, backing away with no place to go. They bunched together against the hull, trembling in terror. Toàn pushed Kiệt behind him and stood on the deck with four other men and women. More pirates jumped down, brandishing their weapons. Two of them mounted wooden planks to create a bridge between the two boats. The pirates shouted to the boat people in a language that sounded like Vietnamese, but nobody understood them.
The scar-faced pirate whirled his machete and rushed toward Toàn’s group. In his haste, he slipped and fell down.
Without thinking, Toàn pushed Kiệt out. “Jump! Jump!”
Kiệt leapt out of the boat. Toàn saw the pirate crawling across the deck, so he dove into the water. Two men followed them.
Toàn stuck his head up above the surface of the water and saw Kiệt kicking his feet in front of him.
“Swim to the island,” he shouted, gulping water into his mouth.
He dove back into the water, pushing his body forward with his legs. The cold water pierced through his bones, befuddling him for an instant. He tumbled in the water, lost his balance, but soon, the swimming practice came back to him. He kicked his legs up and down, lifted his arm out of the water and stretched it forward, turned his head and breathed. The shouts and screams faded behind him. He caught up with Kiệt and the two slipped through the water away from the boats, toward the east side of the island. As soon as they reached the beach, they ran as fast as they could, jumped over the rocks, and dashed through the sparse trees. Their bare feet hurt but they kept running. They turned onto a dirt trail about two hundred meters from the beach. Toàn ran faster and had to stop several times to wait for Kiệt to catch up. After a while, they stopped and sat on the ground, exhausted.
“Are they chasing us?” Kiệt asked, catching his breath.
Toàn shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
He didn’t know what was happening, but he believed the pirates wouldn’t leave their boat to search for them. They had run too far and deep inside the island. The island was actually very small, maybe only five kilometers around, but it had rock formations, small hills and scattered trees. The pirates could run their boat around, but it would take them a long time to round up everybody.
He cocked his head, trying to listen to sounds around him. Indistinguishable noises reverberated in the distance, like rustles from the trees.
The sun had descended.
They rested for about half an hour. It was quiet around them.
“What do we do now, Dad?” Kiệt asked.
“We should wait for a little while and then go back to find out what has happened,” Toàn replied.
“What if the pirates are waiting for us?”
“I’m hoping they won’t be. They don’t seem to be professional pirates. They are just a bunch of fishermen who turned into pirates. They have jobs to do and families to return to. They will leave after they get what they want.”
Kiệt nodded. He was content with whatever his Dad said. His Dad seemed to know everything.
Toàn touched the knife at his ankle. The plastic bag with the knife inside was still tied there securely. His weapon was nothing compared to the pirates’ machetes and long knives, but it was the only protection he had now.
He could not go back to face a dozen of them. He had to save himself and Kiệt. He didn’t know if Long was still alive, but the last image of him jerking on the floor with blood all over his face didn’t look good. He ached when he thought of the fate of the women and the girls, and felt guilty about leaving them. But he had to save himself and Kiệt first. Staying on the boat would have been a futile heroic effort. His years at the reeducation prison camp had taught him many valuable lessons about life and death, heroism and cowardice, pride and humiliation, wisdom and ignorance. He had learned to survive, to be able to return to his wife and his son, to plan for an escape from hell. Now, Liên had perished by an act of God, and he was not going to waste his life and his son’s life over these pirates. At the same time, he agonized over the pirates’ brutal killing. But what could he do? How could he fight against a dozen strong savage fishermen with shining machetes and long knives?
Toàn sat there, struggling with his thoughts. In the end, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do something.
“Let’s go back,” he said to Kiệt.
Just as they stood up, they heard the hum of a boat engine in the distance. Toàn gestured to Kiệt to move farther away from the beach. They squatted on the ground behind a large rock looking over the ocean.
The engine noise soon faded.
“They are leaving,” Toàn said. “Let’s go.”
They followed the trail to return to where they had come ashore. When they came near the area, Toàn slowed down. He took out his knife and stepped carefully on the pathway covered with sand and stones. As he walked down the slope, Kiệt pulled his arm and pointed his finger to the sea. Toàn was shocked when he saw floating wooden planks, bags, containers, and torn clothes. It didn’t take him long to recognize the items belonging to his people. His heart tightened. The pirates must have smashed the boat into pieces. Their only means of escape had been completely destroyed.
“Wait here,” he said to Kiệt. “If some of them are still around, run as fast as you can and don’t worry about me.”
Kiệt nodded and stepped back.
Toàn stepped on the rocks, kept his balance and moved down slowly. A light breeze blew across his face, carrying whispers of human voices. He paused and focused his attention, but heard nothing. He gripped his knife as he slid down the slope and soon reached the beach.
What he saw on the beach sent a shock wave through his entire body.
The women and girls lay motionless on the sand. Most of them were completely naked; some were partially covered with torn clothes. Blood scattered on the sands and on their clothes and bodies. Three bloody bodies of men lay about twenty meters from the beach. A severed hand lay nearby. Up on high ground, a group of children stood trembling by the trees. A few men in tattered clothes were walking toward the beach.
Toàn rushed to the women and girls. He was relieved to see signs of life among them. Their faces were pale, their eyes dazed. Some of them had severe bruises on their faces, backs and thighs. A woman moaned when she saw him. Toàn checked each of them and although some appeared to suffer great pain, none of the wounds were life-threatening.
Soon, more men emerged from the hills and trees. They trudged down the beach. Toàn called Kiệt to come down to help. Together, they carried the women and the girls to higher ground under the shade of the trees. The children rushed to them, gathering around. The men, the children, and the women started to talk in bits and pieces. From the incoherent conversations, Toàn was able to piece together what had happened.
After Toàn, Kiệt, and two men, Định and Hiệp, jumped into the water, the pirates forced all the boat people to board their boat. They then tied the two boats together and towed their boat to the beach. There, they forced everybody to stand in line on the beach and ordered them to take off their clothes. They identified the females from the males and separated them into two groups, male and female. They rummaged through their clothes and searched everybody for gold, jewelry, earrings, and rings. They also searched the body of Long, who had died, and their boat for valuables. After they collected all the gold foils and jewelry, they ordered the females to wash themselves on the beach and chased all the men and boys away. Then, they began raping the females, including the children. When one pirate grabbed a ten-year-old girl, her father and two men rushed down, begging him to spare her and the other children. They were immediately butchered with machetes. The rest of the men were terrified and ran away. A woman said she was repeatedly raped by five pirates. Two women were forced to do other sexual acts. When they refused, they were beaten severely. One passed out. Kim Anh, the fifteen-year-old girl, was raped by six pirates. After they finished, they slammed their boat into Long’s boat and smashed it into pieces. Long’s body was swept away.
Toàn was shocked at the story. He had heard of the pirates’ brutal acts, but what he saw and heard was beyond belief.
They dug graves for the three dead men and buried them. By the time they finished, it was well into evening.
Toàn walked down the beach, gathered the scattered clothing and tried to look for something that might be useful. He spotted a plastic bag left on the sand behind a rock. The bag didn’t look like any bags belonging to them. He knelt down and opened it. To his surprise, he saw rice and several pieces of fish.
What is this? It looked like food left by the pirates. Perhaps they had forgotten it. But when he asked the women, some said the pirates threw the bag at them when they finished their acts and said something they couldn’t understand. When he realized the implication, Toàn shuddered. He immediately called all the men to walk with him down to the beach. They gathered around a large rock.
“They are going to come back,” Toàn said.
“How do you know?” Định asked. “They took everything.”
“They left food. These are savage people. There’s no way that their act of leaving the food is an act of pity. They want the women and the girls alive, because they want to rape them again.”
The men looked at each other.
“What do we do now?” one man asked.
Toàn gazed at their faces. There were seven of them, including him. Định and Hiệp were former South Vietnamese soldiers. They were both in their thirties. Their wives and children had been lost in the storm. Tuấn was a young man in his early twenties. He had been a college student before 1975 and had escaped with his sister, one of the rape victims. Đạt was a fortyish public servant of the former South Vietnamese government. He escaped with his nephew, a thirteen-year-old boy. Lực and Lũy, two brothers in their twenties, were high school teachers. The two brothers had no other family members with them.
“Are we going to let them repeat their barbarous acts with the women and the girls?” Toàn asked.
“Of course not,” Định replied. “But there is nothing we can do.”
“There are more than a dozen of them with machetes and long knives,” Hiệp said.
“We can hide the girls,” Lực said.
Toàn shook his head. “Where do we hide them? This island is too small. They can always find them.”
“And find us too,” Đạt added.
Toàn paused. “We have two choices. We can either let them rape the girls again, and kill us, or we can fight back. I have a knife.”
The men sank into silence.
After a while, Lũy broke the silence. “We can’t fight them. There are too many of them and there are only seven of us. Even if we had machetes, we would be no match for them, let alone the fact that we have only one small kitchen knife.”
Lực added, “They are fishermen, strong and fast, and we are skinny and weak men.”
Đạt nodded. “That’s right. They will crush us easily. But I don’t care if we die from fighting them. My concern is that they will get angry and kill all the women and children.”
Tuấn bit his lip. “I agree. As much as I hate them for killing our men, raping my sister, and robbing us, I think fighting them is just a stupid heroic act. We won’t be able to save them or ourselves.”
Toàn turned to Định and Hiệp. “What about you two?”
Định glanced at Hiệp. “Captain Toàn, you were the officer of the Infantry 1st Division. Hiệp and I were also soldiers in the armed forces. We will follow whatever decision you make.”
“What units were you two from?”
“I was an Airborne,” Hiệp said.
Định hesitated. He thought of the ferocious battle at Xuân Lộc in April of 1975 where he’d almost lost his life. “I was a Ranger, 82nd battalion.”
Toàn smiled. “A red beret angel and a black panther.”
Đạt sneered. “I didn’t mean to offend you gentlemen, but Long was a Marine Captain and look at what happened to him.”
What he said boiled Toàn’s blood, but during his time in the reeducation prison camp, he had learned to control himself.
“Your remark is appreciated but unnecessary,” he said calmly. “Don’t forget that Long died so that we could live. But let’s not talk about it. We need to unite to deal with the problem at hand.”
“How do we do it?” Tuấn asked anxiously.
“We will need a plan,” Toàn replied. “In essence, we have to lure one or two of them into a place that six of us can neutralize and then take their weapons. From there, we will all come out and challenge them.”
“Why only six? There are seven of us.”
“We need one to distract some of them at the beach.”
“How do we lure them?”
“Use one of their targets, one of the women. She could run away from them as soon as they spot her, and we just wait for the pursuers and ambush them.”
“Where?”
“This is a perfect spot for an ambush. Up here on the high ground where there are rocks and trees.”
The men looked at the high ground.
“All of the women and the girls are too weak to run,” Đạt said hesitantly.
“She doesn’t have to run far,” Toàn said. “She can just stand near the spot. We will be right behind her.”
Everybody looked at each other. Their expressions deepened in thought.
Toàn glanced at the children. They were gathering around the women, helping them with their wounds. Kiệt was helping a girl to sit up.
He turned to the men. “When we decided to leave Vietnam, we made up our minds that we would not go back. We sacrificed everything to escape because we could not tolerate the brutality of our own government. We accepted whatever might happen to us, including death. I have already lost my wife. Định and Hiệp lost their entire families. Tuấn’s sister is a pirate’s victim. Đạt, Lực and Lũy, you three have not lost any of your families yet, and I can understand your strong desire to live. But in reality, we all lost everything the day the communists took over South Vietnam. We have nothing to lose in our fight against these pirates.”
Định’s eyes reddened and tears rimmed Hiệp’s eyes.
Toàn swallowed. “I am not religious, but I believe in an almighty force existing somewhere to guide us. Think of the reason we survived the cruel storm and why we were saved by those fishermen who gave us food and fuel. If God or Buddha hadn’t cared about us, we could have died altogether, if not due to the storm, then due to starvation. The pirates are the last test from God or Buddha of our resolve, our courage, and our determination.”
His last words must have stricken everybody. Their faces brightened. Hiệp wiped his tears.
“Let’s do it,” Đạt said.
The rest nodded. They put their hands out and squeezed each other’s hands.
That night, they discussed the plan with the women and the girls. They set up watch posts and took turns as look-outs.
The men slept on the beach while the women and children slept on the high ground near the trees.
“They are coming,” a boy shouted from the beach. He was standing on a rock, watching the ocean. It was early in the morning.
Toàn stood up. “Let’s spread out as planned,” he shouted to everybody.
All the women and children spread out, hiding behind large rocks or trees. Their heads stuck out.
Kim Anh emerged from a rock on the high ground and waved to the men who were climbing up the slope leading to her. According to plan, Kim Anh would lure some of the pirates to climb up. Farther down near the beach, Định would lead a group of six women to distract the pirates. The rest of the men would hide behind Kim Anh.
As Toàn walked up to Kim Anh, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid; we are right behind you.”
The previous night, when Toàn asked for a volunteer to stand on the high ground, she was the first to raise her hand. Toàn didn’t want her to do it because she was still weak after her horrible ordeal, but she insisted. Looking at her determined face and her glaring eyes, Toàn couldn’t refuse.
Now, with the same glaring eyes, she said, “Uncle Toàn, I am not afraid of them.”
Toàn smiled. “Good. God is watching us.”
“I know.”
Toàn and Hiệp knelt behind a large tree, about five meters from the rock where Kim Anh was standing. Tuấn, Đạt, Lực, and Lũy squatted by the next tree, their faces tense. Toàn took out his knife, gripped the handle and put it down to avoid reflection from the sunlight. He looked at the children and saw Kiệt standing with a boy behind a large rock, exactly as told. From where he was, he could see the entire beach in full view. Everything seemed to be in order.
Soon, the pirates came.
Toàn gasped when he saw them. They were not from the same boat. And there were more than fifteen of them.
Two boats appeared about ten meters from the beach. Dozens of shirtless long-haired and dark-skinned men in sarongs jumped out of the boats and rushed to the shore. They immediately spread out, brandished their machetes and long knives, and screamed like rabid wild dogs.
“Heavens, there are too many of them!” Đạt exclaimed.
There must have been at least thirty of them. Other groups of fishermen must have heard from the first group about the boat people on the island.
Kim Anh ducked. She turned her head to Toàn. “Uncle Toàn, what do I do now?”
Toàn tried to compose himself. “Just be calm and do exactly as planned.”
“Do you still want to do it?” Đạt asked, his voice trembling.
Toàn raised his voice. “Yes, of course. Everybody stay calm.”
On the beach, Định and the six women appeared to be shocked. They jumped out of their hideouts and scattered in all directions. The pirates saw them and several ran after them.
Kim Anh stood up. To Toàn’s horror, she had pulled down her shirt, exposing her white skin and small breasts. Toàn was about to tell her to cover herself, but he realized that she was doing the right thing. She was standing high above the beach, far from the pirates, and they might not recognize her as a girl because she had cut her hair short like a boy.
A group of pirates saw her. They pointed their machetes toward her and several of them rushed up, their faces beaming. Kim Anh appeared to be scared. She tripped and slightly lost her balance, but tried to get up.
“Uncle Toàn,” she said in a low voice, “one of them is the same guy from yesterday.”
Toàn whispered, “OK, just be careful. Make sure to run back here as soon as they reach you.”
The slope leading to Kim Anh was full of small rocks that they had planted earlier. The pirates had trouble climbing up. They couldn’t run fast and could only walk in a single line, one after the other. Toàn counted eight of them. The leading one was a muscular man with a scar on his face. Toàn immediately recognized he was the one who had killed Long. He held a shining machete in his hand. His eyes glowed with excitement and his rampant haste showed that he wanted to be the first to grab Kim Anh.
When he was about two meters from Kim Anh, she turned around and ran toward the trees where Toàn and his men were waiting. Toàn changed his position, and his weight fell on his feet. She ran past the trees and her pursuer was right behind her.
The attack was swift.
Toàn sprung at the scar-faced pirate and swung the knife into his throat. Warm blood spurted onto Toàn’s face. The victim had no chance to scream. He fell down, making a heavy thumping sound as his machete hurled out of his hand.
“Take the machete,” Toàn shouted while withdrawing the knife and plunging it again into the pirate’s chest. This is for you, Long.
Hiệp grabbed the machete and darted to the next pirate who was just reaching the rock. The former ARVN paratrooper slashed the pirate’s throat and elbowed his fallen body to the side. He chopped the next one, who dodged, but the chop cut his arm. The pirate let out a piercing scream and collapsed.
The remaining pirates screamed frantically and spread out. Toàn picked up the long knife from the fallen pirate and darted after them. One of them jumped toward him, his bolo pointing forward. Toàn sprung backward, missing the blade by a few centimeters. The pirate rushed forward but a stone flew from behind Toàn, hitting the pirate’s head. He tumbled down the slope. Toàn jumped after him, thrusting the knife into his abdomen. His body rolled down, but Toàn kept it back by holding tightly to the knife. The force tore his flesh, splashing blood all over his body, and he emitted a howling cry. Toàn grabbed his bolo and pushed his body down. He turned around and saw Tuấn, Đạt, Lực, and Lũy darting down the slope, chasing the remaining pirates who were running back to the beach. Kim Anh was standing at the rim of the slope. She was holding a rock in front of her now fully covered breasts.
Toàn threw the bolo to Tuấn and he caught it. He saw that they each now held a bladed weapon.
“Chase them,” he shouted.
It happened so fast that the pirates scattering on the beach still didn’t fully understand what was going on. Several of them were running after the women and Định. One of them grabbed a woman and pinned her down. He didn’t bother to notice what was happening around him.
It was only when the four pirates ran back from the slope and shouted to them in their language that some of them realized what was happening. By that time, it was too late.
Like a group of hungry lions chasing hyenas, Toàn and his men plunged into the disordered pirates with burning rage. Toàn had taken a large machete from a wounded pirate. He slashed, chopped, and sliced shirtless bodies as he ran through them. Blood, body parts, sarongs, turbans, and knives flew around him.
Hiệp jumped on the pirate who was pressing on top of the woman on the ground. The pirate looked up with an astounded face. He didn’t have a chance. The machete slashed through his neck. His naked body fell down, blood oozing out. The woman picked up his machete and tossed it to Định, who was rushing to her.
The beach became a harrowing battlefield. The women joined the men. It seemed that anybody with a machete or a long knife could be a formidable fighter. The children were also throwing rocks and stones at the pirates. Together, the boat people fought with mighty force. They were still outnumbered by the pirates, but their ferocious doggedness startled the enemy, even themselves.
Toàn was surrounded by three muscular pirates with large machetes and bludgeons. He ducked to avoid a machete chop and swept his machete, cutting the leg of his opponent. He swung his machete up to block another chop, but one of them struck his leg with a bludgeon. The attacker struck the same leg a few more times with vicious force. Toàn knelt down, screamed in pain, then tried to grip the handle. He turned his body and slashed the pirate behind him. He stood up but fell back down. The pain was excruciating. He rolled his body on the ground to avoid another bludgeon blow, but his enemy didn’t let him get away, jumped toward him, and raised his club high. Toàn summoned all of his energy, sprung up with his machete, and plunged the blade into his opponent. He collapsed on top of the fallen pirate.
He rolled on the ground when he saw three pirates running toward him. He rose up and dragged himself to a nearby rock. He leaned on the rock, gripping the machete. But the pirates didn’t pay attention to him. They shouted loudly to each other and carried their wounded friends to the beach.
He looked out over the beach and smiled.
The pirates were retreating to their boats, carrying their wounded comrades, but leaving dead bodies scattered on the shore and the slope. They must have thought raping a few women was not worth dying for. They started the boat engines and sped away.
The boat people staggered toward Toàn. The children cheered loudly and ran down from the rocks. They clapped their hands and sang.
“Uncle Toàn, how do you feel now?” Kim Anh’s voice brought Toàn out of his thoughts.
He sat up and smiled at the young girl. “I am feeling better.”
He was sitting on the high ground, leaning against the trunk of a tree. Kim Anh knelt down next to him, glancing at his slightly swollen leg.
“Does it still hurt?” she asked.
“Not if I don’t move it.”
“I hope it will heal soon.”
“I hope so. The swelling has subsided. Some bones may be broken, but they will heal in time.”
Kim Anh gazed at him. “Uncle Toàn, I want to thank you for helping us.”
“I didn’t do anything. We all worked together.”
“Without you, we would not be able to work together.”
“Without you throwing the rock at the pirate, I could have been killed.”
Kim Anh laughed. “I threw it right at his head, didn’t I?”
“Yes, right at his head.”
“I am happy that it’s over.”
Toàn paused. He didn’t know if their struggle was over. The pirates had been driven away, and they probably would spread the word.
Three days had passed and everything had been remarkably calm. There were no ships or boats, but there were no pirates either. The fight had been an unbelievable victory. They had killed six pirates while only three of them were wounded. Toàn’s leg was broken; Đạt received a cut on his arm; and Hiệp’s back was slashed but the cut was not deep.
They had discovered an abundant source of food supplied by the sea creatures around the island. Sea carp, mussels, and even squid. They were able to make fire using a fireboard and a spindle made from the tree branches. With fire, they cooked the sea creatures and distilled seawater to make fresh water. They also built crude shelters from rocks, leaves and branches. The women and girls had recovered from their traumatic experience, but only physically; the emotional wounds would stay with them forever. The children played on the beaches all day. Laughter echoed all around. They could have lived on the island for several months.
But they couldn’t live there forever. Sooner or later, they would need medical attention and other basic care. Besides, they hadn’t risked their lives and left their country, friends and families only to stay on an island.
“How is your mother?” Toàn asked.
“She is fine,” Kim Anh said. “This morning, she was excited when Uncle Định brought back a bunch of fish. She wanted to cook a delicious dish for us, but when she found out she didn’t have the ingredients, she got upset.”
Toàn laughed. “My God, you remind me of the sour fish soup.”
Kim Anh’s face turned gloomy. “My dad loved sour fish soup.”
Toàn sighed. Kim Anh had been happy in the past few days. She smiled and talked more, playing and singing with the children. The trauma caused by the pirates seemed to be fading and she had returned to acting like a normal fifteen-year-old girl. But he knew it was hard for her to recover fully. Every now and then she would stop whatever she was doing and look out to sea with listless eyes. One day, he spotted her sitting on the beach on a rock and gazing at the waves for hours. She missed her father.
“What did your father do?” he asked, hoping that talking about him would ease her pain.
“He was a Major in the Army of the Republic Vietnam. Just like you.”
“Really? Do you know what unit he was in?”
Kim Anh’s eyes glistened. “He was in the Marines.”
Toàn nodded. He recalled hearing a conversation between Long and her dad at the beginning of the journey. They had talked about their fallen comrades.
“How long did he spend in re-education camp?” he asked.
“More than three years. He could have stayed longer because of his rank but we had a relative from the North and he pulled some strings for my dad’s early release.”
“I see.”
“He was a fighter.”
“Of course. He was a Marine, from one of our best combat units.”
“No, I didn’t mean in combat. He was a spiritual fighter. He taught us to stand up against injustice and oppression and to fight for freedom.”
Her face gleamed in the bright sunlight. She was no longer a hapless victim of the cruel sea or the barbarous pirates.
Toàn smiled. “Your dad would be proud of you. You are a real fighter yourself. A freedom fighter.”
“All of us are freedom fighters.”
“Yes, especially those who died.”
Kim Anh looked at him with sympathy. “I am sorry about your wife.”
Toàn sighed. “Thank you, but my wife’s death, like your father’s, gives us strength to survive. In a way, they died in order for us to live.”
“That’s true.”
A commotion on the beach interrupted their conversation.
Kim Anh stood up. “What’s going on down there?”
She looked at the ocean and exclaimed, “Heavens, Uncle Toàn, a ship is coming toward us.”
A ship? Not a fishing boat? Toàn was reminded of the makeshift S.O.S. signs they had put up on the trees two days earlier. Could a rescue ship spot the signs?
He squinted, looking at the ocean. A dot appeared larger and larger on the water in the distance.
It was unmistakable.
A huge Navy ship was moving toward the island.
He let out a long sigh of relief. “It’s about time.”
Historical and factual notes
The stories of the boat people are well known and have been reported in numerous books and documents (Cargill 2001; Freeman 1995, 33-34; Isaac 1997, 149-161; Vo 2005; Vu 2005). Many of these stories are personal and describe the horrifying individual experiences of escaping from Communist Vietnam after the Fall of South Vietnam in April 1975. The flight of the Vietnamese people from their own country is the largest exodus of civilians in the history of mankind in peace time. At least eight hundred thousand Vietnamese successfully escaped by boat to ten nearby countries between 1975 and 1995 (UNHCR 2000, 98; Vu 2005, ix; Vo 2005, 2). An untold number, perhaps as many as half a million, died during their escape attempt – by thirst or starvation, by drowning in storms, by disease, or at the hands of pirates (Vu 2005, ix).
The most commonly used route for the boat people was a southwestern route to Malaysia, Thailand, and Indonesia. It was also the most dangerous because of pirates (Vo 2005, 137). The pirates committed many violent acts against the boat people, including robbing, raping, murdering, and pillaging. During the early years, the killings of the victims were arbitrary, but later became purposeful to cover their acts (Vo 2005, 144). Women reportedly smeared their faces and skin with soot or engine oil to cover their light complexion and make them repulsive to the pirates. But the pirates knew the trick and simply ordered them to wash themselves, then raped them (ibid., 145). “Girls as young as six years of age have been sexually assaulted” (U.S. Committee 1984, 5). Only in rare circumstances were the boat people able to repel the attacking pirates. In one case, refugees in a 71-foot boat with 687 people on board fought the pirates using sticks against knives and drove the pirates away after an hour of fighting (Vo 2005, 149-150).
The song “Việt Nam Quê Hương Ngạo Nghễ” is a popular song that was written by Nguyễn Đức Quang in the 1960s. In the interest of popularizing the song for people who want to sing it in English, I translated the song into English with the same number of syllables as in the original Vietnamese version. The lyrics are not translated word for word due to the constraints of the number of syllables per verse and the rhymes, but they accurately convey the essence of the song.
___________________________________________
References
1. Cargill, Mary Terrell and Jade Quang Huynh. 2001. Voices of Vietnamese Boat People: Nineteen Narratives of Escape and Survival, McFarland & Company, North Carolina, U.S.A.
2. Freeman, James M. 1995. Changing Identities: Vietnamese Americans, 1975-1995. Allyn and Bacon, Massachusetts, U.S.A.
3. Isaacs, Arnold R. 1997. Vietnam Shadows: The War, Its Ghosts, and Its Legacy, The Johns Hopkins University Press, Maryland, U.S.A.
4. UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees). 2000. The State of the World’s Refugees – Fifty Years of Humanitarian Action. Oxford University Press, New York, U.S.A.
5. U.S. Committee for Refugees. 1984. Vietnamese Boat People – Pirates’ Vulnerable Prey. U.S. Committee for Refugees, New York, U.S.A.
6. Vo, Nghia M. 2005. Vietnamese Boat People, 1954 and 1975-1992, McFarland & Company, North Carolina, U.S.A.
7. Vu, Nguy (Ed.) and Richard H. Sindt (Consult. Ed.). 2005. Risking Death to Find Freedom: Thirty Escape Stories by Vietnamese Boat People, NV Press, California, U.S.A.
