Chapter Three
The Airplane

“What is that place?” asked Tuyet, pointing at the strange winged building.

“A giant airplane called a Hercules,” said the woman in Vietnamese. “It will go up into the sky and take us away from the war. It will take you to safety.”

Tuyet was amazed. The strange winged building was an airplane! She knew the sound of airplanes. She had heard their roar almost as often as she’d heard the wop-wop-wop of helicopters. But this airplane was bigger than her orphanage. She never imagined that an airplane could be so big.

Tuyet sat with her legs poised over the edge of the van door. Gingerly, she slid down, the heel of her weak foot landing painfully on the oven-hot tarmac. She hopped beside the woman to show she could move quickly, but her feet felt like they were burning up.

“Let me carry you,” said the woman. “The pavement is too hot for bare feet.”

When she was lifted up, Tuyet had a view of the entire airport and beyond. The airplane she was being taken to wasn’t the only one preparing to leave. She could see two others and lots of activity. Above her, the sky was black with spirals of smoke. Where was the black smoke coming from?

Tuyet scanned the lush green expanse of rice paddies beyond the airport runways. And then she saw it: the crashed remains of an airplane with smoke billowing out of it.

She pointed. “That airplane didn’t stay up in the air.”

The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We will be safe.”

But how could Tuyet not worry?

The entry to the airplane was like a big angled ramp the width of a room. Tuyet clung to the woman’s shoulders as she was carried in. The woman set her down on the floor in the cargo hold amidst boxes of babies, canvas bags, straps, and crates of formula, food, and medicine.

The woman began to push the boxes of babies close together. In order to make sure the boxes wouldn’t slide around, she secured them with a long, sticky strap that looped over several boxes at once.

Tuyet saw that it was time to make herself useful. Without being asked, she copied what the woman was doing and strapped in a second row of screaming and wriggling babies.

Soon more people brought box after box through the wide door. Everyone scurried about, finding places for the babies and taping them in.

3-1 — Boxed babies strapped in place and ready for takeoff

The giant door closed and the inside of the airplane quickly became hot and stuffy. Worse than the heat was the smell of dirty diapers. Tuyet was used to heat and babies’ diapers, but she had never felt so closed in. Her heart pounded. Sweat trickled down her back, getting her shirt all wet. Her hair stuck to her forehead and neck.

The baby boxes covered the floor area of the cargo hold. On the upper level, a row of seats ran along the sides of the aircraft, close to the windows. A set of metal stairs connected the two levels.

Tuyet reached her hand out and caressed the baby closest to her, but as she cooed a lullaby into the baby’s ear, she heard a huge roaring sound. Her body trembled with terror. Was this airplane about to go up in flames like the one she had seen in the rice paddy?

Tuyet felt a hand on her arm. She looked up. It was one of the women who spoke her language.

“That’s just one of the engines,” the woman explained. “The pilot turned it on to cool the air. There are three more engines, so don’t be frightened when they start up.”

Tuyet nodded. Maybe it would be fine.

Just then, a small door at the front of the airplane was pulled open from the outside. Four North Vietnamese soldiers stepped in, armed with machine guns. They looked angry.

The woman appeared frightened, but she stood and walked up to the soldiers. “Everything is in order,” she said.

“We need to see their papers,” said one of the soldiers, pointing his machine gun at the babies and children.

The woman hurried to the cockpit and came back with a stack of forms. She handed them to one of the soldiers. He examined each form carefully, matching them up with the wrist straps as he did so. A baby not far from Tuyet had no wrist strap.

“You have no papers for her,” he said. “And no papers for that one,” he added, pointing to an older toddler who was trying to stand up in his box.

The woman’s face stayed calm and strong, but her lips were a pale thin line. “Just a minute.” She headed back to the cockpit.

For a minute, nothing happened.

Then, suddenly, one of the pilots burst out of the cockpit. He wore a fancy hat with gold braid, and his face was purple with rage. He hollered something in another language at the two soldiers.

The sight of the raging pilot terrified Tuyet, but it also startled the soldiers. They backed out of the door and ran down the steps. The pilot pulled the door shut with all his might and locked it from the inside, sighing with relief. He took off the hat with the fancy braid.

All at once, Tuyet understood. The pilot had tricked the soldiers into thinking he was an important commander who had to be obeyed. It made her smile.

The pilot went back into the cockpit and the woman stepped out again. She looked almost happy.

“You need to get into a seat,” said a different woman, who crouched down in front of Tuyet. “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

Tuyet was afraid that she might lose her balance and hurt the babies if she tried to cross the middle of the cargo hold without help. The babies and extra supplies were so closely packed together. Tuyet reached out her arms and the woman picked her up. She held Tuyet above the babies and helped her to the steps and into a seat by the window, not far from the cockpit.

“I will strap you in,” the woman said kindly.

For a moment, Tuyet’s heart thumped with panic. She did not want to be tied down. “Can I get out if I need to?”

“Of course you can. Watch.” The woman flicked the metal clamp with her finger and the seatbelt popped open. Tuyet tried opening and closing the seatbelt herself a few times. She began to relax.

“But you must be strapped in when the airplane takes off,” the woman added, then she straightened up and walked down the aisle.

At that moment, even though Tuyet was in an airplane jam-packed with babies and children—along with the adults who were working to save them—she felt utterly alone. She remembered the rosary her special friend had given her. Holding it would make her feel better. She reached into her pocket. But her pocket was empty.

The package was gone.

The rosary must have dropped out in the van, or maybe later, when she was helping with the babies. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She tried to breathe slowly, to make the tears go away. She didn’t want anyone to see that she was crying, so she closed her eyes.

Her hands felt something soft. She opened her eyes. A cloth doll. She looked up. One of the women, smiling, hovered over her. Tuyet hugged the doll to her chest.

“Thank you,” she said, looking into the woman’s gold-colored eyes.

The woman patted Tuyet’s hand. “It’s going to be fine.”

Tuyet had never owned a doll before. The visiting soldiers sometimes brought dolls to a few of the children in the orphanage, but never to Tuyet. She held the doll up to her face and breathed in its fresh newness. For just a few moments, she was able to forget losing her friend, losing the life she had known. Maybe everything would be all right.

Tuyet looked out the window. From where she sat, she had a clear view of the smoking plane in the distance. She closed her eyes and clasped the doll to her chest.

The plane moved forward. Tuyet exhaled in relief. Soon they would be away from here. She didn’t know if she was looking forward to the future, but at least the uncertainty would soon be over.

The Hercules shuddered to a stop.

Tuyet opened her eyes and looked out the window. Two people stood on the runway, in front of the airplane! Didn’t they realize they might have been run over? How had they got past the soldiers and the fence?

Tuyet squinted to get a better look. The man wore the distinctive collar of a priest. He was holding tight to the hand of a girl who looked about the same age as Tuyet.

The pilot called out, “You’ve got to get out of the way!”

“You must take this girl with you!” the priest hollered back.

3-2 — Major Cliff Zacharias

“We’re not allowed to,” shouted the pilot.

“Then we’ll stand here in front of the plane.”

The cockpit door opened. The pilot stomped out, looking angry and frustrated. He unlatched the door at the front of the airplane and pushed it open. Moments later, the girl’s head appeared in the doorway.

Tuyet looked out the window, where the priest now stood alone. He bowed in thanks and walked off the runway.

The pilot led the girl to an empty seat in front of Tuyet and quickly strapped her in. Then he headed back to the cockpit.

The girl wept quietly. Tuyet leaned forward and said, “It will be okay.”

The second engine began to roar, then the third and, at last, the fourth.

“Get ready for takeoff,” called the pilot through the speaker system.

Tuyet leaned back into the seat and clutched her doll. Under her breath, she whispered, “Please let this plane fly, please let this plane fly.”

The Hercules moved again. From where Tuyet sat, she could see one of the giant wings. Suddenly, part of the wing folded down. Oh no! Was this how the other plane had crashed? Tuyet whimpered.

“It’s the wing flaps,” said the woman in the seat behind her. “They’re supposed to do that.”

Tuyet closed her eyes and repeated her wish, “Please let this airplane fly!”

Just as the wish left her lips, the Hercules lifted. It angled up to the sky so sharply that Tuyet could feel blood rushing to her head and the skin on her face pulling tight. The babies, who had been whimpering half-heartedly, began to scream. The airplane went higher. Babies cried louder. Tuyet felt like the plane was going straight up into the air. Her ears popped. She was afraid to breathe.

The plane leveled out. The babies stopped screaming and suddenly it was silent. Then the woman behind her said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “We’re safe now.”

Tuyet felt tears of relief rise in her throat. They were safe!

But she was still afraid.