He followed the chauffeurs who responded, along with their bosses, to the “White Christmas” signal broadcast on the radio. Making his way through the mass of adults, he arrived at the roof where people were climbing one by one up the ladder to the hovering helicopter, with the help of an American official. Louis was able to climb up in his place thanks to the indecency of a man who had passed in front, jostling the whole line. The official swiftly drew the man away from the ladder’s steps before putting him out of commission with a powerful punch underneath the whirring blades and the deafening noise of the rotor. Louis always believed he took the place of that man on the ground, abandoned on the roof, because even the person in charge had to exit the platform and stand on the aircraft’s landing skid.
Louis and 6,967 other evacuees were set down on ships chartered for this mission, Operation Frequent Wind.
Perhaps his father was none other than the man who landed the last helicopter in the embassy’s landing space to save the eleven Marines in extremis, forgotten by Operation Frequent Wind.
Perhaps.