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The Struggle for Freedom

A person living without the knowledge of their past or history is like a tree with no roots which

will eventually dry out and disappear from the surface never to be remembered. This is the

reason I decided to go back to my roots and learn how my family immigrated to the USA during

the Vietnamese war. My grandfather, Phan Nguyen, escaped from jail in Vietnam and floated on

a boat at the end of the year 1983 and at the beginning of 1984 he came to the USA.

My grandfather, Phan Nguyen, had decided to join the military in Vietnam to fulfill his

desire of joining his country's mission and that of the USA to counter the spread of communism.

At the time, he states that North Vietnam was occupied by the Soviet Union currently Russia,

China and other communist allies. He, however, had opposed communism from the beginning

and having grown up in South Vietnam he had always countered the spread of communism a. He

could thus never miss an opportunity to join the army and serve his country; a country that he

loved the most and thus would join the fight against communism.

Luck, as it could be, was however not on my grandfather's side. His stay as a soldier in

North Vietnam was short-lived, and he and his crew had been captured in a guerilla attack on

their camp. Therefore, the once glorified soldier fighting the communists had now been

converted to a prisoner of war, sentenced to be a slave to a master he despised and loathed. His
stay in jail was horrific if not a nightmare. Torture was the order of the day; anyone considered

anti-communist after being captured was tortured with fists, electric shocks, water, attacks and

even bats. At times the torture would be too much; some of the prisoners would be tortured to the

extreme being expected to give confessions as anti-communist soldiers before the unification of

Vietnam. The torture would involve cutting off of the prisoner's ears, killing them by cutting of

their heads, cutting of limbs, blowing up people, giving poisoned food or no food at all to the

prisoners and random shooting of prisoners by a firing squad.

These inhumane and abusive treatments of prisoners of war were meant to create terror in

them, something that it was successful in doing. My grandfather especially explains that at times

the communist would try to soften up the soldiers a little bit by torturing civilians and forcing

them to watch as it happened. He describes it as the most horrific thing he had ever seen in the

course of the Vietnamese war. The effects were, however, gruesome to the prisoners, at night

none of them could sleep peacefully; the nights to them were restless mostly filled with

nightmares of vivid images of these ghastly deeds. My grandfather at times would also weep at

night for his country and for the poor, innocent victims who suffered because of a war they knew

nothing about. The jail was frightening as well, the nights were sleepless and the nights rendered

by screams and shouts of soldiers having nightmares.

Eventually, some of the soldiers gave in to the torture and ended up confessing to the

communists. As they say, everyone has a breaking point, the degree only varies from one person

to another. The torture though not entirely physical but psychological warfare was bearing some

fruits. Some of the soldiers had witnessed terrible events; children being killed with machine

guns, cutting off fingers of children who dared to get an education, sewing up of people's mouths

and cutting the tongues of those considered to be traitors so that they could not reveal secrets
anymore. All these were things that my grandfather together with other soldiers had witnessed

during their stay in jail in the communist prisons. Some of the soldiers had even died due to

depression and related psychological disorders. My grandfather had however proven to be a hard

soul, one not to be broken easily.

The Communists, therefore, took a different approach in trying to break him. My

grandfather, Phan Nguyen, was placed in an isolated confinement cell, away from everyone else.

They had planned to starve him until he gave in to their wants. My grandfather claims that his

cell was uninhabitable with the only ventilation coming from a tiny hole above the door. He

describes his stay there as painful; the pain was inflicted on him by guards who could torture him

routinely as if they were following a strict timetable. The cell was also filthy, dirty and dusty.

The earlier occupant of the cell must have died in that place because it had a smell of something

rotting but with no light, it was difficult to figure out what it was.

In this cell, however, my grandfather had company. The ever-present rats were the only

living creatures that he ever saw. The plan to starve my grandfather was working as after some

time he began suffering from malnutrition. The jail had no medical attention for the prisoners

and the only doctor, my grandfather, knew about was a man who was way incompetent and

uncaring, something that was unlike medical practitioners. There were no hospitals one could be

taken to if they were ill or suffering, instead the incompetent doctor could try his best and when

it was too late as most of the cases he could leave you to die. My grandfather was forced to eat

whatever he saw on the floor though even with this he faced stiff competition from the rats in the

cell.
 My grandfather continued to narrate to me how as a prisoner he was overworked despite

being starved. The work was majorly hard physical work that was mostly dangerous despite the

fact that they were not given any protective gear for the hard labor. These could be termed as

forced labor though the government labelled it as productive labor and insisted on it for the

progress of the country. There was also no equipment that was provided to assist in the carrying

out of this work. The hard work, starvation, malnourishment and no medical care had led to

deaths of many inmates that my grandfather had known. His only favor was that he was a strong

man who could not be cowed by disease easily, however, the poor nutrition had also begun to

affect his resistance to diseases and thus he had started becoming weaker by the day.

During his stay in the prison, my grandfather had no visitors, a factor that was

contributed mainly by the reluctance of the prison guards and officials for anyone to visit him.

His chances of being released from prison were almost impossible since this was achievable only

through bribery and since his family was not rich, he saw the chance of ever seeing outside the

prison as an impossibility. He was also not in good terms with the prison officials having been in

the army that had fought the communists. It is then that he knew that his only chance to lead a

good life and start over again was to escape the prison and flee to the United States of America

through a boat.

It was during one of the hard labor sessions that my grandfather knew that a golden

opportunity had just been presented to him. They were cutting trees in a jungle near the border of

Cambodia when my grandfather hatched a plan for their escape. Since they had known each

other with most of the officers they had fought the communists with, he knew that this was his

only chance of redemption. They were going to be at the labor site for a week and thus he knew

he had to hatch a plan to escape. He knew that this was going to be a do or die situation. He
knew that the officers he had worked in the anti-communist army were loyal and that no one

could betray him. He chose five of his most trusted colleagues and it was when working that he

informed them of his plan. The escape plan was scheduled to take place the next day. The

prisoners far exceeded the guards, especially when working and thus they knew that if they were

going to escape, they had to give their best shot.

The escape plan was kept a top secret and only the five of them knew about it. As they

worked, my grandfather usually carried a bucket that was usually used to carry water. It was an

old, rusty metallic piece of bucket that he carried water in for drinking when going to work. The

five of them had concentrated themselves at the far end where the worked on a big tree. The

soldier guarding them had not been strict and since he covered a large area, my grandfather had

planned to knock him out of consciousness using the metallic bucket. The guard had been

knocked out of consciousness and one of the prisoners grabbed his gun. The only thing that was

now separating my grandfather from freedom was a river that lay straight ahead and the border

between Vietnam and Cambodia.

The escape plan had been perfect and brilliantly executed only that my grandfather had

not planned for the Vietnamese soldiers guarding the Vietnam and Cambodia border. They had

just crossed the river easily, when they heard gunshots behind them. The guards were in hot

pursuit for them. As they neared the border, the soldiers at the border were on alert having heard

the gunshots. They had not planned to harm anyone when escaping and the gun had just been

taken as precaution rather than as a weapon in in the first place. My grandfather would rather die

trying to escape rather than die under the communists.

 They soldiered on hiding in the dense jungle before approaching a lone guard whom the

knocked out of consciousness with the guns rear ends. Freedom seemed so near and yet so far

away at the same time. Finally they had left the Vietnamese communist government and were

now in Cambodia where they could flee to the land of freedom and democracy the United States

of America. At the time, they were hungry, tired and thirsty and they knew that they had to get

something to eat. They also had to get out of the jungle before the soldiers could recapture them

and send them back to the prison where they knew that their fate upon returning could be death.

Luckily they got a trail that led them straight out of the jungle and into a Cambodian

market. At the time, darkness had settled in and it was raining heavily. All five of them were

shivering as the little prison clothes they had on were drenched in water yet it was the best

feeling that they had had in years. At the market, they borrowed food from the locals and water

to drink. Luckily, there was a man who could speak fluent Cambodian ad Vietnamese and thus,

he helped them to borrow food and water from the locals. As they would later come to know, this

man was a guide who was hired by people to help them flee from Vietnam. For my grandfather

and his friends however, he offered to help them flee for free from Vietnam.

My grandfather recalls that that was the best meal made up of Cambodian food that he

has ever eaten up to this day and that he was so thirsty that he drank a whole jug of water. The

man was hospitable as he took them to his home and clothed them with his Cambodian clothes.

He told us of how he could help them in negotiating for a space in a boat. He however warned

them that the Vietnamese soldiers were always on the lookout for people escaping through the

boats and thus the escape had to be secretive and done at night. He, however, warned them of the

dangers and hazards that we would face in the ocean. However, this was not going to deter them,

they had already had a taste of freedom and there was no stopping until they were free.
 The plan was executed at exactly midnight when the Cambodian guide negotiated a ride

for my grandfather and his crew in a truck. This truck was going to pass through various

checkpoints and this they had to hide at the back of the truck where there were rice bags so that

they could not be caught by the Vietnamese soldiers at the checkpoints. The back of the truck

reminded him more of his cell since it was dark and poorly ventilated. The security was going to

be tightened all over the place since word had come in from Vietnam that five prisoners had

escaped. The soldiers at the checkpoints checked for weapons and Vietnamese refugee and they

were easily bribed with cash to allow the truck to pass safely and to keep my grandfather and his

friends safe.

My grandfather narrates that as they got into the boat, they felt as if they were crossing

the border to freedom. However, it seemed that the crossover to freedom was not going to be

very easy. The Cambodian man had only managed to get them a space in an overcrowded boat

since he had not enough money to get them a space in a more comfortable and spacious boat or

even better a ship. This was all he could offer to them and my grandfather would forever be

grateful to him for what he had done for them. It was at around 1.oo a.m. that the boat left for

Malaysia. Despite having the knowledge of all the risks in the sea, my grandfather could not

leave this opportunity and thus, they started off their journey for a better future.

As it is often said, the journey of thousand miles begins with a single step, and my

grandfather had just put the right foot forward in starting his journey of freedom. However, little

did he know of the obstacles and challenges that he was going to face in the waters. Due to the

torrential rains that had just poured in the jungle, there was a large storm that was brewing in the

sea that they had not seen coming. As they continued to sail towards Malaysia, the storm became

rougher, lightning struck in the sea, lighting the sky and the sea from time to time. The thunders
became more frightening than before, and the storm was threatening to capsize the boat. Water

was beginning to fill up the boat and the occupants struggled to empty the boat of the water or

else their journey to freedom would subside before it had even gained momentum.

All were clinging to the boat afraid of being plunged into the angry sea. Luckily the sea

calmed down after what my grandfather remembers to be about three hours of struggling. It as at

the break of dawn that calmness later returned to the sea, neutralizing the storm that had been. It

seemed as if they would get to Malaysia in about four days when tragedy struck once again. The

motors that were propelling the boat began to fail. At times, they would spur back to life and

propel the boat further but during the second day of their struggles, the motors went completely

lifeless.

My grandfather knew that this meant that their journey had just been given a huge dent as

this meant that their journey was to be delayed for about double the number of days if ever they

were to survive the sea. They would their best to drift without power for the remainder of the

journey but they wished for a ship to come and rescue them. The food had begun to run out and

the remainder had started to go stale. The water had long run out and the temperatures during the

day would go to a soaring 38 degrees Celsius.

The sun having sapped all the water in their bodies led them to extreme thirst. My

grandfather recalls a time when he tried drinking the sea water due to thirst. This water would

later lead to dehydration in his body due to the salt in it making him worse than he was before.

Due to inadequate food, his situation worsened and he also thought that he was going to die

though he would have been proud to die a free man than die under the communists. The sighting
of the Malaysian shore from afar made him sigh with relief and he laid back, closed his eyes and

at that moment he knew that he had made it to a new dawn.

On arrival at the shore, he was carried on a stretcher and he was given fresh water to

quench his thirst. His body once again felt alive and his dry throat had now been softened and he

uttered his first words in two days which were freedom. My grandfather was later able to

immigrate to the USA during a Humanitarian Program for Former Detainees under the

communist regime and thus at the beginning of 1984 he came to the USA.
 Works Cited

Turse, Nick. Kill Anything That Moves. New York: Metropolitan Books/Henry Holt and Co.,

2013. Print.

Duiker, William J. The Communist Road To Power In Vietnam. Boulder, Colo.: Westview

Press, 1996. Print.