Then Hung went over to Chan’s house and explained that she had to go, which was not what she wanted to hear. When Chan started crying and wailing, Hung took out his 9mm handgun and calmly told her that she had two choices. Either she, his mother, and the children would get on the airplane, or he would shoot them all and then kill himself. But he was not going to let them fall into the enemy hands. Chan knew Hung, and knew he meant it. So she packed a few things and they left for the airport.

En route, artillery fire sent them down in a ditch. But after it let up, they were able to make it to the airport, Hung and Marty were able to put them on a C-141, and Hung went back to trying to repel the invasion. To this day his Mustang convertible is probably parked in front of the squadron.

When I met them at Indiantown, I knew that they needed an American sponsor. (In order to leave the refugee center and settle in the United States, you either had to have a large amount of money showing you could support yourself, or else you needed an American sponsor, who could help you get settled—usually by giving you a job.) So when I asked Hung who was going to do that, he told me that he himself didn’t need any help, since he had lived in the United States while attending various schools over the years and could easily find work and take care of himself. But it was going to be a problem for Chan and the others, because families who sponsored refugees wanted a family with a man in it who could earn money and help pay the expenses. “Okay, no problem,” I told him. “We’re on our way to Iowa for a vacation; but if no one comes forth in the meantime, they can come live with us.”

And so on our way back, we picked up Ba, the grandmother; Chan; Bich, a thirteen-year-old daughter who was a year older than my oldest daughter; Lingh and Que, nine- and eleven-year-old sons (my son, John, was ten); and Ain, the baby daughter, less than a year old. They lived with us for a year, and it was a wonderful experience. Every meal we ate rice with chopsticks. Mary Jo and Chan were like sisters. Ba took care of Ain and Nancy. The three boys roomed together and got along. Susan and Bich roomed together and acted like teenage sisters: they fought most of the time.