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Mr. & Mrs. Lap
by
Jennifer Lee
right away. We need to be at the airport in half an hour. Go home and take the children. Don’t tell anyone we’re leaving.”
Mrs. Lap had hoped to never hear those words, but now she knew it was time to go. A deep sense of uncertainty loomed over Vietnam as the North (Democratic Republic of Vietnam) and the South (Republic of Vietnam) continued to fight for independence, a concept that meant something different to each side. As of April 21, 1975, with the North continuing to close in on the South, victory was within their reach. The fate of South Vietnam looked bleak, the idea of a Communist government more of a reality.
For ten days, Mrs. Lap had been quietly meeting with her friends to discuss plans of escape. Staying in Saigon would mean complete loss of freedom. Countless nightmares about the Viet Cong ripping off Mrs. Lap’s painted fingernails with pliers, or pulling out her newly permed hair, prevented her from sleeping at night. She also worried about the fate of Mr. Lap, a member of the South Vietnam Air Force. So after Mr. Lap told his wife the news, she went straight home without saying goodbye to her closest friends, her parents who lived across the street, or her two younger sisters. She packed two sets of clothing each for her husband, two children and herself, plus a few toiletries. At 11:30 a.m., less than an hour later, the family assembled on the Vespa, with Mr. Lap driving, Mrs. Lap on the back of the seat and their two kids wedged in between. They were headed to Tan Son Nhat Air Base to wait for a plane that would take them out of Vietnam.
Tan Son Nhat, Vietnam’s largest international airport, served as one of the busiest military bases for the United States and the Vietnam Air Force. The air base was a familiar place for Mr. Lap—he had worked there for ten years. As chief officer of the 600th Photo Squadron, Mr. Lap took aerial images that were later used to plan enemy attacks. Now his workplace functioned as a meeting point where hundreds of people sat and waited for their chance of escape. The family searched for an open space to settle into, trying to get as comfortable as they could.
At 5 p.m., Mr. Lap decided it was time to go home and check on his mother and sisters. When he left earlier that morning, he had only told his mother that he needed to take his family to the air base. He did not have time to tell her much else. She was probably waiting for him to come home for dinner. Mr. Lap reassured his wife that he would be back soon and quickly left the air base.
Alone with the children in Tan Son Nhat, Mrs. Lap felt overwhelmed by all the people around her. To keep herself busy, she befriended a young woman sitting nearby who also had two children. Mrs. Lap and the young woman chatted away about their husbands and the hope of seeing each other again once they reached the United States. When it came time for Mrs. Lap to shower, the woman offered to keep an eye on her son and daughter. When Mrs. Lap finished, she returned the favor, watching as their kids played without a care in the world. Mrs. Lap’s son Quoc was eight years old, her daughter Uyen, seven. She feared they were too young to understand and would become frantic if she told them too much. She only said, “We are here and we have to go to the United States. We don’t know exactly where yet, but don’t worry. Mom and Dad will go with you.” Mrs. Lap had no idea where the plane would take them, or if it would even arrive successfully, but she took comfort in knowing that her family would be with her. At least we can all go together, she thought while watching Quoc and Uyen peacefully asleep in her lap.
Mr. Lap arrived at home and sure enough, his mother was expecting him. She had not known when he would return, but she knew he would have to come home eventually. Mr. Lap’s mind felt heavy with all the things he had to do and all the things he could not say. He could not answer very many of his mother’s questions about what would happen next, because he honestly did not know. His orders were simple: Meet in Tan Son Nhat and a plane would take his family out of Vietnam. Their destination was unknown.
After a short silent dinner, it was time for Mr. Lap to return to the air base. As he walked out of his house, two of his wife’s younger sisters, who lived across the street, rushed over. “Are you going back to the airport? Where are you taking our sister? Why aren’t you taking us?”
It pained Mr. Lap to know that he couldn’t bring them. “I can’t take you because the Air Force said I can’t,” he told them. “But don’t worry, we’ll be back soon.” He wanted to explain everything, but he knew he couldn’t. His family’s escape had to be kept a secret. If word spread though their small neighborhood that they were fleeing, the family would be caught and punished by the Viet Cong. Ngoc-Van and Ngoc-Thuy accepted Mr. Lap’s brief explanation and asked him to give Mrs. Lap a letter. They’d written it after seeing the family leaving on their Vespa earlier that morning. Ngoc-Van had something else for her sister. She was wearing a set of “semaine” bracelets, seven bracelets that represented a day of the week. She took off two of the thin gold bands and gave them to Mr. Lap. He promised both sisters that the letter and bracelets would reach Mrs. Lap. He then headed back to the air base.
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