What Endures: An Amerasian’s Lifelong Struggle During and After the Vietnam War

By John Vo

Unlike most childhoods, mine was far from being a happy one. My siblings and I, as well as the generation before us, were born at a time when warplanes, gunfire, foreign men in uniform, constant evacuations, and locals hiding under bunkers or war tunnels were commonplace.

Now whenever I see playgrounds that are lush with trees and green grasses and filled with children on swings who are laughing while being pushed by their parents, I cannot help but feel a tinge of envy. They are so young, yet already they are having the time of their lives. As a child, I never imagined such scenarios to be remotely possible. Even the idea of playing and having fun were strange to me. I was filled with questions, many of which were answered much, much later.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543482300

John Vo

John Vo came to America in 1987 as a refugee from war-ravaged Vietnam. Despite the torment of being ostracized in his own country because he was a child of the enemy, Vo or Anh Tung (the authors Vietnamese name) was filled with unwavering hope and determination to live a purposeful life in the land of freedom. His lifes greatest triumph was bringing together his family after decades of being apart.

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Copyright © 2018 by John Vo.

Library of Congress Control Number:               2018901393

ISBN:                  Hardcover                     978-1-5434-8228-7

                            Softcover                       978-1-5434-8229-4

                            eBook                             978-1-5434-8230-0

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Rev. date: 02/01/2018

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1     The Survivor

Chapter 2     Tug-of-War

Chapter 3     Pillar of Strength

Chapter 4     Hidden Casualties

Chapter 5     One Day at a Time

Chapter 6     Among the Remains

Chapter 7     Boat Ride to Freedom

Chapter 8     Child Parent

Chapter 9     Starry Nights

Chapter 10   Warm Welcome

Epilogue

Notes

INTRODUCTION

We are so used to seeing women as victims of war to be pitied rather than survivors of war to be respected. downer.

—Gayle Tzemach Lemon

Unlike most childhoods, mine was far from being a happy one. My siblings and I as well as the generation before us were born at a time when warplanes, gunfire, foreign men in uniform, constant evacuations, and locals hiding under bunkers or war tunnels were commonplace.

Now, whenever I see playgrounds that are lush with trees and green grasses and filled with children on swings, who are laughing while being pushed by their parents, I cannot help but feel a tinge of envy. They are so young yet already are having the time of their lives. As a child, I never imagined such scenarios to be remotely possible. Even the idea of playing and having fun were strange to me. I was filled with questions, many of which were answered much, much later.

My name is John—my American name, that is. In Vietnam, I was known as Tung. I am the eldest of six children, who were from five different fathers. Many looked at my mother with malice and enmity for having children fathered by different American soldiers.

Although my mother was not one of those who worked in bars and clubs and was forced into sexual slavery, she was still mocked and sneered at because she had to work in US Army base cafeterias. They called her names and gave her labels that were demeaning and dehumanizing.

Being a mere victim of circumstance, it is as if my mother had no choice but to succumb to US soldiers in order to have a chance at a good life. But she did have a choice, and she stood by each one of them with her head held high. She will always have my deepest respect despite her mistakes, failures, and shortcomings. In spite of them, she possessed a strength that I have never seen in any woman.

Likewise, we Amerasian children suffered the same fate of being bullied and ostracized. At the time, there were more than fifty thousand children whose fathers were US soldiers.¹ We were shunned and forced to live in poverty.

Not everything made sense to me at the time. But the night before I left to come to America, my mother, with tears in her eyes, told me all about her life, which helped me put the pieces together and make sense out of the haze. As she told me the story, she held my hand and brought it close to her chest. As I listened to her, I felt a deep sense of longing, knowing that we might not see each other again.

I have changed the names of some persons in this book for the protection of their privacy.

CHAPTER 1

The Survivor

What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or in the holy name of liberty or democracy?

—Mahatma Gandhi

The fact that what used to be known as the American War in Vietnam is now being referred to as the Vietnam War in America says a lot about history. In historical terminology, the so-called Vietnam War is also known as the Second Indochina War or the Resistance War Against America. It began later in the year 1955 and continued until April of 1975.

My family’s story dates back to the First Indochina War, which began in 1946 and lasted until 1954. This war was fought between the French and the Vietminh forces in the south. This is not a story about who fought whom and who defeated whom. For my family and me, it is the story of undeserved suffering and constant running away, only to find temporary peace each time.

Since the day she was born, my mother has been a survivor. The Anti-French Resistance War was in full swing. There were French troops and warplanes, which dropped bombs in the small villages. People quickly looked for family members and hid in tunnels.

My grandmother, who was pregnant with my mother, was separated from the rest of the family. Moments of havoc and agitation seemed to last forever. Drained and drenched in crimson, the helpless mother clutched her lowering belly and aimed for a suitable spot. She settled in a cowshed and weakly lay on the grass, which was full of ants.

After the French troops went away, her