April 30th - 50th Anniversary of the Fall of Saigon or to many Vietnamese, Reunification Day.
Reflecting on 50 Years Since Saigon's Fall: A Day of Reunification and Remembrance for Vietnam
Today, April 30, 1975, marks fifty years since the fall of Saigon and the end of the Vietnam War. For many Vietnamese people, the conflict is known as the American War and is now commemorated as Reunification Day. For me, being in Vietnam on April 30th, 2022, just as most countries were opening their borders, was eye-opening.
The Motherland
In 2022, for the first time since leaving as a baby in 1974, I returned to Vietnam. That year, I was granted a three-month sabbatical from my job, and I seized the opportunity to return. I finally felt emotionally ready to visit the country of my birth.
I hoped that my first visit back would be as smooth and uncomplicated as possible. I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness, hoping somehow to forge a connection with this place and its people.
The trip was timely because I had just reunited with my biological father after decades of searching for him. DNA and luck would be the catalysts that reunited us.
Starting from Sapa to the north, my husband and I journeyed through Vietnam for a month, stopping in Hanoi, Ha Long Bay, Hoi An, Da Nang, Nha Trang, Da Lat, Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City), and ending in Phu Quoc. The people, the food, the landscape, and the adventure to each location were unforgettable.
That April, I shared that 50 years prior, my father, a young soldier from Alabama, had begun his first tour of duty.
Reunification Day
During my visit to Vietnam in 2022, I was struck by the ideological contrast between Vietnam's perspective on reunification and independence and the American characterization of the fall of Saigon that I had grown up with. It was an eye-opening experience to witness this difference firsthand. Vietnamese (and many Russian) flags lined the roads along many of the major highways and byways, serving as a reminder to countrymen and visitors alike of the war's outcome. The day is largely observed with military parades, cultural performances, street festivities, patriotic songs, and reflection of a war that changed the Vietnamese people, still resilient after French colonization, Japanese occupation, and early Chinese domination.
Our tour guide at the time described it as both a solemn and celebratory occasion, with a special focus on Vietnam’s journey to peace, pride, and progress.
God, Faith, Family, and Community - lessons from a young soldier and a young volunteer.
My dad was stationed at the Da Nang Airbase, a strategic 2,350-acre base used by the U.S. military as a primary entry point for many U.S. servicemen.
The stories he shared with me were sobering, raw, and brought up painful memories for him. You could hear it in his voice and feel it in the stories he told. After many years of silence, he began sharing stories of his time there with my daughters and me.
He recounted how most of his time was spent loading and unloading supplies for missions across Vietnam and how this mission turned into the sobering and emotionally heavy task of loading bodies onto these same planes heading back to the U.S.
He shared how he would sleep with a loaded rifle. ”I really didn’t sleep,” he admitted, “living on an airbase, we were frequent targets, sitting ducks. You learned how to stay alert and sleep with your eyes open, resting just enough to make it through the next 24 hours.” What that must have done to his body and his mind, I’ll never know, but I can imagine how terrified he must’ve been, a feeling he said never went away the whole time he was there. Operating in fear was part of everyday life.
I asked if he would have ever returned, and his emphatic 'no' was enough to acknowledge the painful reminder of the two tours he had served.
He shared that Vietnam had changed him, hardened him, and made him see the world (and him in it) differently. Alabama did this too, he said, but in a different way.
My mom flew to Vietnam numerous times beginning in the late 1960s. She was a volunteer for Friends for All Children Vietnam, working closely with Rosemary Taylor. Her mission initially was to care for and help obtain supplies for babies in Rosemary’s nurseries. Her mission changed when the nurseries transitioned to orphanages, and suddenly these women were tasked with finding safe homes for thousands of babies, toddlers, and children left at the orphanages’ doors.
She recounted the sting of war and how the atmosphere then was overwhelmingly fraught with terror, danger, and death. She told me how she would cling to the knowledge that children, especially those born into war, were deserving of love, care, and safety. Her fear, she said, often took a back seat to her mission to help save as many children as she could. She remembered how it felt to grow up as an orphan of war in Germany and how it scarred her.
My mom went back to Vietnam in the early 2000s, but after that trip, she firmly insisted that she would never go again. “Too many painful memories,” she said. Sometimes the pain associated with a place is too much for a human to bear.
I sometimes wonder if both of them might have been there at the same time, just minutes away from each other, in a parallel universe. Now, I hope both have had the chance in a heavenly meeting to introduce themselves to one another and discuss their time in Vietnam fifty years ago.
As a result of their experiences, God, faith, family, and community became central to their thinking and way of life. How could one not believe in God when bullets, bombs, and the constant threat of violence were as tangible as the rations they consumed? How could one not have faith when survival seemed divinely orchestrated? How could one not desire to build their family when it became an intrinsic part of their identity? And how could one function without the support of a community? Unbeknownst to them, these four pillars motivated each of them to pursue the religious work they undertook upon returning to the U.S.
How different all of our experiences - his and hers on the auspices of war, and mine as a tourist.
Part of the significance of my time in Vietnam was that I was able to go armed with some of my father’s stories and information as a soldier on the airbase where he spent most of his time, as well as information and stories that my mom shared about her time as a civilian volunteer where the orphanages stood. It was helpful to have these reference points as I navigated the landscape, wondering if either of them had visited some of the places I had and imagining what they must’ve felt.
Both of them are heavy on my mind today. Fifty years may seem like a lifetime, yet when I talk to veterans of that time and place, it can feel like yesterday.
The next time I return, I want to do so with my children. I want to visit the airbase and the places a young soldier knew, as well as the orphanage where I was brought as a newborn and where my mom held me for the first time, intent on adopting me. I want to see their familiar haunts and spend more time learning the places where they frequented 50 years ago.
Today, I am dedicating part of my day to writing and reflecting on the causes and prevention of war. It's also a moment to acknowledge those who have selflessly cared for orphans like me and to cherish the incredible opportunity I had to visit my homeland when I did. Thankful, today.
Loved reading this. It required taking time to really sit with all of this. There are so many articles and news pieces etc coming out right now. But this, Moki. Got me. Thank you. Needed to stop and be with the moment. Wow.