At the time of the fall of Saigon, I was a college student in L.A. and volunteered for the Red Cross at Camp Pendleton to help the Vietnamese refugees being flown in and housed in tent cities there. I was in a large volunteer meeting at my college when it was announced that the “baby lift” plane had crashed and the children were killed. I remember people starting to cry, especially the women.
If that didn’t make you cry, you weren’t human.
IIRC a good number of those male refugees ultimately volunteered to serve in the US Armed Forces.
That’s Good Immigration!
Dad was stationed at Clark. My mother was in The Philippines helping out with the other end of the baby lift. She never talked about it much.
Dad flew evac missions during the fall. The closest he ever got to combat (as far as I know) was looking down on the city at night and seeing the street fighting. Those old C-130s had no flare launchers so they actually hung out the side doors with cargo straps holding a flare pistol and watching for any smoke trails. Hell of a thing to do for a young man (dad) with babies back home.