EPILOGUE

April 30, 1976

ONE YEAR LATER TO THE DAY, a U.S. Air Force C-141 lifted off the runway at Tan Son Nhut Airport outside Ho Chi Minh City and set a course for Washington, D.C., more than eighteen hours’ flying time and half the world away. After rendezvousing with a USAF KC-135 tanker over the Bering Sea, the transport continued on to Andrews Air Force Base, where a reception party of military and civilians waited in the warm Maryland sun.

After landing and taxiing to a stop in front of the somber group, the transport’s tail ramp lowered, a sergeant gave a soft-spoken command, and all of the military men, including an Air Force chaplain and eight U.S. Marines in formal dress blues, snapped to attention.

The civilians in the group included Lisette Vo, Estelle Waverly—publisher of the Washington Legend—and Sam Esposito’s mother and father.

A large van with U.S. government plates and a black Cadillac hearse from the Marino & Messina Funeral Home were parked nearby. Their drivers stood next to the vehicles, hands folded, watching as the plane’s air crew walked down the incline, took up positions on either side of the ramp, and, like the military members, came to attention.

The Marines ascended the ramp in formation and re-emerged moments later with the first of six flag-draped coffins. Each of the coffins was carried in mute ceremony to the van. The bodies in the coffins were, until recently, among the 2,646 Americans listed as Missing in Action after the U.S. military ceased combat operations and left Vietnam in 1973.

As the van drove away, the Marines returned to the plane, marched up the ramp, and carried out the last flag-draped coffin. In it was Sam Esposito.

Tuan kept his promise. Sam was home.

* * *

“Lisette, you covered the Vietnam War for over a decade and barely escaped from Saigon last April when the North Vietnamese captured the city and ended the war. A year has passed since then. What are your thoughts on this anniversary of your return to the States?”

Barry Chase leaned forward in his chair, eager to hear his guest’s response. Lisette Vo was a newsmaker in more ways than one—a courageous wartime journalist and, since her return to the U.S., a celebrated figure for her outspoken commentary on the war. He knew this interview would be a terrific lead for his weekend show, the Sunday News Hour.

Lisette paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, then replied, “I’ve got a lot of emotions to sort out, Barry. As you know, this week we welcomed home the remains of Sam Esposito, who was killed during the time you just described, the fall of Saigon. I lost a friend and we all lost a great journalist. In fact, sixty-four reporters died covering the war. I made it out. I still haven’t come to grips with that.”

“Do you think you made a difference, reporting from Vietnam for ten years? Was it worth it?”

“Yes. I think what I did—what we journalists did—was important and valuable. The world certainly changed during that time. France fought a war there, then we fought our own war for another decade, then the South Vietnamese struggled to hold on until the North finally overwhelmed them. Someone needed to be there to describe the events as they happened, otherwise who would ever know? Colonialism as an institution in Indochina ended with Vietnam. The war changed America, too. It was the longest war in our history and, whether you fought in it, avoided it, or openly protested against it, the Vietnam War defined our entire generation.”

“What about the Vietnam you left—the country, the people?”

“Reprisals by Hanoi against the people they defeated are just wrong. The communists have put tens of thousands of former South Vietnamese military and civilians into forced-labor camps under brutal conditions. In the name of ‘progress’ they make highly educated lawyers, scholars, and writers work at menial jobs. What a waste. Meanwhile, their economy is failing and the U.S. embargo hurts all of them—not only our former enemies but also the people who were once our allies. I hope this will change.”

“And the deaths?”

“During our war alone, more than fifty-thousand American servicemen and women died, and it’s estimated that a million North and South Vietnamese soldiers and perhaps two million Vietnamese civilians were killed. Fortunately, the killing has stopped. There have been no mass executions as there were in Cambodia at the hands of the Khmer Rouge.

“Refugees—the ‘boat people’—keep fleeing Vietnam. I’ve heard that over one million Vietnamese have left the country as of this year, and they’re still leaving by any means possible. Many of them die trying—drowned at sea, taken by pirates. It’s another legacy of a terrible war, one that goes on and on.”

“What about the Americans who are listed as Missing in Action?”

“We need to account for every single one of them. We cannot forget their sacrifice. Or that of the veterans who came home wounded in many ways. As a nation, we still need to heal.”

“And then there’s Lisette Vo. What’s next for you?”

“I’m happy covering Washington politics for now, but as for the future, I don’t know. I’ve stayed in touch with some of the people who were with me in those difficult, final days. It’s a comfort to know that they’ve been able to put those events behind them. For the most part, they’ve gone on with their lives. We all need to do that—move on, but never forget. What happened in Vietnam is part of history now, and perhaps future generations can learn something from that. At least, we can always hope they will.”