True to her promise Bonnie had waited for our release. She was interested in our experiences with customs and was as upset as we were by our experience. By that time she seemed resolved to work out an arrangement with us for our stay in Hong Kong. An invisible bond had been established among us. At least she knew we were not carrying drugs. What she did not know was that one of us was a little off balance.

We crammed ourselves into a taxi for a breathtaking ride to the Hotel President, where the registration clerk informed us that no additional rooms were available. However, we were committed to keeping our band intact, so the three guys huddled and flipped coins for odd man out. The odd man kept a single room, and the other two were to share a room. Bonnie would get the third room for herself. Fortunately I won and got the single room. Wayne and Bill were similar—easygoing, happy, seeking good clean fun, undisturbed by the war in rear-echelon jobs. I was moody, disturbed, and somber; I just wanted to be alone in my room and brood for a week.

Bonnie was an adventurous spirit, who graced us by staying at our hotel at our expense with no strings attached. She became the organizing force who planned our activities, made the arrangements, and refused to allow me to become a recluse. She had already researched all the tourist attractions in Hong Kong, and dragged me reluctantly along when I preferred to stay behind. She informed us that we were all in this together and it would only work if we all stayed together. No one was alone.

I relented for the sake of the group, and her big brown eyes. Hong Kong became a dream come true. We picnicked on a hilltop overlooking Communist China, drank champagne, and toasted our enemy, and even “mooned” the communist guards at the border crossing, shocking our Chinese driver. We ate at the British China Fleet Club, took the ferry across the harbor, saw all the sights, and generally lost track of time and ourselves, forgetting that Vietnam even existed. Bonnie was perfectly safe with us, but we all fell in love with the angel in our midst. She had come out of nowhere bringing renewed hope.

It was a perfect world—too perfect to be true. When the final day approached, I realized that it all had to end and we had to return. Now I wished I had never come at all.

Bonnie left the hotel with us, and we shared a taxi to the airport. She was to board a flight to Tokyo, having cut her stay there short and juggled her itinerary to stay on with us. We boarded an Air France flight back to Vietnam. Misty eyes prevailed when we exchanged addresses in the United States. Bonnie and I met again on several occasions, but that week in Hong Kong could never be reconstructed. If it had not been so real, and I had pictures to prove it, I would’ve sworn it was a dream.

Former Vice President Richard M. Nixon pledged that if elected president he would “end the war” in Vietnam. He did not spell out how.