There were many helicopter round trips above the American embassy, which Tâm had managed to enter.
The end of the war arrived noisily, as if peace had to be proclaimed and welcomed with gunshots, fires, howling, and panic attacks.
The American ambassador received the order to leave, to proceed with the evacuation. All those who knew that persecution awaited them at the hands of the victors converged on the embassy, while the employees shredded and burned telegrams, banknotes, secret documents. The traffic lights, just like the policemen standing at intersections, baton in hand, under their umbrella-shaped metal shelters, were totally ignored by the constant flow of vehicles. Just like animals that smell the beginnings of an earthquake, the people ran, seeking a place to find refuge from the columns of tanks and military trucks advancing proudly, the soldiers brandishing the new flag.
Outside the embassy, the demarcation between sidewalks and streets was worn away. People crowded against the barricaded doors, guarded by submachine guns that were ready and nervous, and against the entrances to buildings leading to the rooftops, to the ladders, to the platforms of other helipads from where they hoped to be taken towards the open sea. Towards the vastness of the unknown.
Just like the helicopter that transported Louis, that of Tâm landed on one of the crowded ships. There were also people who arrived on board by way of small craft. They climbed up ropes and chains. Some lost their footing, others let go and plunged. Tâm saw soldiers tipping helicopters overboard to make more room for the evacuees. The soldiers ignored the maximum capacity for security and the regulation number of flight hours. The pilots had doubled the number of flights possible by leaving their co-pilots at the command of other helicopters. One by one, they turned in the sky until late, until dark, until the last opportunity, knowing that hundreds of people congregated around the embassy swimming pool were still hoping for another flight, another last flight.
The official end of Operation Frequent Wind was communicated to the soldiers by the signal “Tiger, tiger, tiger.” Or was it rather, “Tiger is out”? One thing is certain, as of that moment, the noise of tanks on asphalt replaced that of rotors in the sky.