California State University East Bay
Thanh Tran
By Ngoc Tu
This Thanksgiving marks the 30th anniversary of my first experience with freedom. The bitter sweet memory of leaving Vietnam’s prison camp, it seems, took place just yesterday. The date is November 25th, 2010. My family surrounds me and I give thanks for the beautiful display of successful sons and daughters, healthy grandchildren, and an array of oriental as well as traditional Thanksgiving food. All this at the cost of four gold nuggets, I say to myself. I sigh, am relieved, and remember all the individuals who could not afford this opportunity…
My name is Thanh Tran. I was born on October 20th, 1949. Today, I am sixty-two years old and am thankful everyday for my home, my family, and my freedom here in America - all of which would not have been rightfully mine if I resided in my home country, Vietnam. Everything was very different prior to 1975 when the Communist won the war and took over. Previously, I had been the youngest of twelve, but the war took with it seven of my siblings. This among other things made reality change overnight; therefore, the events before and after 1975 depict two separate chapters in my life.
Beginning in 1968, I was nineteen when I married my wife. We bought a small house in the city of Da Nang. It had a kitchen, living room, dining room, one bedroom, and some extra living space. It was small, but we lived a comfortable and sufficient lifestyle there. I was a soldier in the military and she managed a restaurant out of our house. We were happy and had two daughters and one son between 1968 and 1975. Being in the military, I was gone for months at a time. When away, I lived at whichever military base I had been assigned. Depending on war demands, I visited once or twice a month, but when the war got more intense, I would go three or four months without seeing my wife and children.
In the military, I was part of the para-rescue team. I witnessed many deaths, but only came close to it once after the war had already ended. Many people died fighting; I believe 58,000 Americans, over one million South Vietnamese, but the communist lost the most. It was a sad war. I look on it with pity and disgrace, Vietnamese killing other Vietnamese, it’s a sad thing. Many family members and good friends died. In regards to me having ever killed someone else, I’m unsure. We shot across the battle field to the other side and never really knew if we had individually injured or killed someone. But throughout the war, I was never scared to die. If I ever came close to death, I would be honored. I knew that I did this so that my family and friends could live in a safe and better place with room to live up to their potential. I understood that I was on the right side; it would have been to my country’s benefit.
In 1972, the U.S. withdrew and by 1975, the communist were the official victors. On March 28th, 1975, the communist began invading Da Nang. At midnight, they entered my home, asked my name, blindfolded and handcuffed me. That night, I was certain it would be my last. I was taken to the burial pits where other soldiers had been killed. Many ex-soldiers were there. We waited, but fortunately nothing ever happened. They had done this to avoid southern riots due to their victory. When they released me, they said that they would return in a few months to take me to the prison camp. I would be serving three to five months. This was my punishment for being in the opponent’s army.
Two months later, they came to retrieve me. I was told that I would be serving thirty years unless I had a ransom. I was taken to the mountains where at least three to four thousand ex-soldiers were divided into camps of one to two hundred. Each camp was located on a large circular plot of land. They were each isolated from each other and at the bottom of the mountain were communist communities. This made it impossible to escape. I remember one man had reached the bottom of the mountain. Before he returned, they had shot his leg and broke its bones. When he arrived, they beat him to death in front of us. They would make an event out of it if there were several escapees. It was a horrible place to be.
At the camp, everyone did the same thing. Our daily routine there began at six in the morning. Breakfast was a tennis-ball’s worth of rice and a bit of salt. This would be our lunch and dinner too. From six to twelve we worked, had an hour lunch, and worked again until five. The Communist’s sole purpose was to exhaust us of any life we had left. Every bead of sweat had an assignment. They were determined to be the end of us. Work consisted of growing trees, gardens, burning woods, etc. With their food rations, we would be in a continual energy deficit. I saw men die every day, especially the elderly. The hospital consisted of no medicine, just a bed to rest and rice porridge which assured one’s death. Its fast digestion made it impossible to retain energy. We were only allowed to retrieve medicine and food from our lots on holidays and were restricted from taking more than a scarce-days-worth of remedies and foods.
Inside the camp, communication was brought to an absolute minimum. The communist leaders kept a very close watch on us and were not afraid to kill us if we did not obey the rules. There was to be absolutely no talking. Communication to the outside world was also nonexistent. I didn’t know anything about my family’s well being. In order for my wife to see me, she had to go to the city hall and fill out a good deal of paperwork which was a long process. She would then have to plan a multiple-day journey and prepare to stay in the mountains for at least one night. She came to visit me twice. She brought food, medicine, and one night, four gold nuggets, which she retrieved from our family treasury. The communist agreed to reduce my sentence to two years. You could never be sure if they would keep their word, but I was very fortunate.
No one was ever informed the day that they would be released. On the day that freedom came knocking on my door, it had seemed like any other day. November 25th, 1980; the Communist leaders handed out breakfast as usual, allowed us to eat, and then named ten people to stay behind. We were told that we would be studying that day. Once everyone left, they then asked if we wanted to take anything from our lot with us. One by one we all replied “no,” there was no point in going back when you had a good chance of moving forward. Today was the day. They proceeded to give us a certificate of leave, a girl’s hat, and a working outfit with the letters ”CD” on the back indicating that we had been in the prison camp and needed help home. I thought of my family, how long I hadn’t seen my wife and kids, how much they had probably grown.
When we were released, we weren’t the only ones. Neighboring camps had also discharged prisoners. We had no money, food, or belongings. Nothing was arranged for our departure. The walk home would have taken me four days, but fortunately, there were rescue helpers from the city waiting at the bottom of the mountain for us. Two of us caught a ride to Da Nang with one of the rescue helpers. On our way back, we stopped at a local restaurant and had a bowl of pho and a cigarette in return for our clothes and hat which they could use as work attire. We would be home soon so we didn’t need it. When I arrived home that night, my wife and children were asleep. From there, it was a beautiful blur of emotions and tears.
Immediately after my return, I knew that I couldn’t stay in Vietnam because, although I had been dispatched from the large prison camp, I still had three years of probation under my city’s jurisdiction. This went for all those who came from prison camp. Furthermore, I knew I wouldn’t be able to live a fulfilling life here. Because of me, my kids would not be able to go to school or have a job. My kids had no future in Vietnam. The communist will do anything in their power to suppress me and my family. I had to do this for myself, my wife, but most of all, my kids.
I devised a plan using my neighbor’s boat. Thanh also had been in prison camp and wanted to leave Vietnam. It would be a dangerous trip. The Communist had mentioned that if I tried to escape and they caught me alive, they would kill me. I was the one who did the wrong, they forgave me, but I wasn’t scared. I wrote a plan for both families to escape the country. My wife and I had four kids by now. Thanh had ten kids and his parents. Others from the city also joined and paid for much of the expenses. In the military, I was very familiar with how to use a compass and map. Our trip would require two stops: the first at the first island of China, and the second, Hong Kong where we would have to wait for our immigration application to be approved. This would take us approximately one week if everything went well, but we could never be sure. Many times, the weather, waves, and storms killed many people or have stranded families for weeks or months. We had to prepare as if we would be out there for a month.
June 1981, we had set out by boat at two in the morning. China took two days and one night and Hong Kong took another day and night. Neighboring countries were very hospitable to Vietnamese refugees. We were very lucky that the waters stayed calm for us. Everyone slept a majority of the time. The kids began getting sick, but we quickly found remedies when we reached our destination. In Hong Kong, we had to wait six months to see which country accepted our application. In the mean time, I picked up a few odd jobs and slightly learned the language enough to get by. Six months later, we were accepted to Atlanta, Georgia, but our flight was to San Francisco first. I had a nephew, Dinh in Monterey and had asked to stay in California, but could not. We had to continue onto Georgia and were given enough money to take the bus back. The bus ride took four days. We carried just two suitcases and one handbag which consisted of things we would need, clothes, camera, radio, and toys for the kids. When we reached Monterey, Dinh picked us up from the Marina. This would be the start of a new beginning.
Right away, I did all my paperwork and went to adult school to learn English. I rented an apartment with government help and had another daughter. Eventually, my family relocated to Oakland on 66th avenue during the 1989 earthquake. Resources and references were more easily attainable here because of the growing Vietnamese population. I did newspaper delivery as my first job. I have since then worked at the flea market, cement industry, and landscaping which I continue to do today. My wife has always stayed home to take care of our kids. Through the years, we have raised ten lovely children on our own. We never planned to have ten. They were accidents, but I am happy and blessed for each one of them.
Today, I am happy especially because six of my children have received their college degrees. They are healthy, successful, and have equal opportunities to achieve great things. I just want them to know how blessed they are to live in this country, to be free with the ability to choose their own religion, career, and have their own opinions; a place where justice is given to those who do no wrong and the ability to live in sync with their own ideals and self righteousness. They have the freedom to explore new places and experience new things. There is a lot to be thankful for and I am thankful every day for this opportunity which has been blessed to me. They said that I would be in prison camp for thirty years. Well it’s been thirty years since I have been released and I could not ask for more. Four gold nuggets were my answer for everything that I am thankful for today.
