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               The wife of a VN Marine

                                                                                                      Mrs Nguyen Van The

I lived side by side with the Sea Tigers from 1964 to the day our country fell to the red devils. Though I was never at the frontlines, I understood the mentality of the Marines, and shared their joys as well as their hardships. My most vivid memories are of the time they returned from Laos, and when they moved to Hue. I was part of a group of singers who were going to La Vang Church to entertain and welcome the “Sea Tigers” back from Laos. I was so very happy to see my husband and friends again. The ARVN had been badly shaken by the outcome of the Laos incursions, and the Marines were also affected. But fortunately, I did not loose too many friends.

Not long after they returned, the situation in the battlefields turned serious again. The whole Division went into operation. The night before they left, no body could sleep. They were so busy packing and preparing. The members of the Marine Medical Battalion, had to pack all sorts of medical equipment and drugs in addition to their weapons. The entire battalion was a hive of activity. Some were impatient to depart, others were painfully tearing themselves from their families.

At 2.00am, everything was ready. As wives of the Marines, we were allowed to gather at the camp's courtyard, to bid them farewell. We watched the trucks carrying our loved ones approach our position in cloud of dust illuminated eerily by the head lights. It was the first time I had witnessed them leave at night. The convoy rumbled past us. First came the 1st Marine Battalion, then the second...my husband was in the 4th Battalion. I watched the truck carrying the “Sea Tigers” go by - they looked so calm, sitting there clutching their weapons and heavy rucksacks, ready to stare Fate in the face. They were determined to carry out their duties as sons of the South by ensuring freedom and peace for our country. Few people were privileged as myself to witness there quiet and personal sacrifices. It was very emotional to watch them leave, and I recalled a poem about a fighter's wife we had learnt at school:

“The filtered water under the bridge was clear And the road by the bridge was green with grass Broken-hearted, I bid farewell to my beloved...”

At that moment, I felt a strong bond of sisterhood with all the wives and lovers of the fighters. We women lived in perpetually fear of bad luck. Our eyes flooded regular - inundated by tears of hope and agony for our men. Every time an operation was organized, we prepared ourselves for the losses that were sure to come. But all we could do was pray.

The convoy took them to Phan Thanh Gian Bridge, to await further transportation to the Airbase. Sixth months later, I was allowed to fly to Hue. I dressed myself in tiger-stripe fatigues, and accompanied a logistical team that was heading to the frontlines to re-supply the Marines.

I arrived at at the Division Headquarters at 3.00am. The convoy arrived at the Airbase at 4.00am. But it wasn't until 1.00pm the next day that we were able to board a C130 aircraft to fly to Hue. The aircraft landed at Phu Bai Airfield. As we alighted, we saw that the tarmac was alive with “Sea Tigers”. Some had newly arrived, and others were on their way home. The newcomers were were healthy, complete in body and were enthusiastic and loud. The returning Marines were riddled with wounds and bore their pains in silence. No pen could possibly describe their agony!

From the airbase, we were moved to Small Mang Ca, where the Hue District Hospital was situated. On my way to the Marine Medical Battalion, I had to pass a mortuary. It was a field morgue - bodies were laid in ponchos, on tables, and coffins...I was deeply moved. Tears ran down my face. I thought of the poor women who were about to receive the horrible news of their beloved. I felt helpless as there was nothing I could do for these heroes.

When I returned to Saigon, I went to the Church of Maria Fatima to pray for the souls of the dead Marines, and asked one of my aunts to burn incense in memory of the Buddhist souls. It was the least we could do for those fearless souls. I also organized groups to visit and comfort wounded Marines in Saigon and Hue. We wanted to express our gratitude to the fighters who were protecting us, our children, and our nation.

Even after twenty years away from my country, I still remember the my days in the Marine Base Camp. I remember the sisterhood of Marine wives, who followed the progress of their loved ones with trepidation. Dear Marines! When I think of you, I still see heroism and the ravages of war stamped for evermore on your noble faces.

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