From Captivity to Liberty

Michael Lock (edited by Julie Lock)

My name is Michael Lock (I am second to the left in the above picture). My grandparents came to Vietnam from China during the Japanese invasion of China and they ran a small business manufacturing flour. They were doing quite well. At that time my mother was in her teens and, because her parents were so busy, she had to help with the business, only attending school at night. Eventually she had to stop her education to assist full time in the family business. As a result, she was essentially illiterate. In those days it was normal for girls to marry at about the age of sixteen, so she married my father and had ten children, although she lost one through illness. I was the fifth birth, the middle son, born on 10th Jan 1954.

We were living in Cholon, China Town about five minutes’ bus journey from Saigon, the capital city. My paternal grandfather had two wives who came from China. My father was the son of the first wife and had two sisters and a brother. The second wife had five children, two boys and three girls. They lived in a big house in the countryside. When we visited him, I remember seeing someone lying on a bed with a long pipe, smoking something like opium. It was a horrible smell. People used to come and go so my aunt used to remove me away from them.

We woke very early. There was no electricity, so we had to use either candles or paraffin. I used to see people going out very early with their water buffalo or horses pulling trailers full of produce to sell at market. I was bored with rural life and couldn’t wait to return to the city. We returned home by coach, packed in like sardines, with passengers hanging on to the door and even sitting on the roof. The journey would take up to two hours, but I was relieved to be home and be able to enjoy electricity. Our house was ideally situated for access to taxis, bus, or rickshaws.

Vietnam is situated in SE Asia. It has two seasons, the Monsoon season, and the dry season when it is humid and hot. It was previously occupied by the Japanese. During this occupation anyone who was guilty of pick pocketing or other theft would have the offending hand chopped off. It was, however, a peaceful era with no need to lock doors when going to bed. Eventually, Vietnam was occupied by the Chinese and their occupancy was evidenced by elaborate Chinese writing, ancestor worship and Buddhist temples. Most temples, schools and hospitals were built by the Chinese community with funding from local businessmen. When they left the country, the French arrived in 1877. I remember that in the early 60s for the equivalent of 50p children could buy some sweets which were quite cheap due to low inflation. Plenty of work was available.

There was fighting between the French Union’s Colonial Far East Expeditionary Corps and the Viet Minh Communist Revolutionaries. I have memories of my mother telling me about the Viet Minh exercising on the street. May 7th, 1954 marked the fall of Dien-Bien Phu. This was a climatic confrontation of the first Indochina War that took place between 13th March- 7th May 1954. In July 1954 the Geneva Agreements were signed. As part of the agreement, the French agreed to withdraw their troops from northern Vietnam thus dividing the country at the 17th parallel. Prior to this people could choose which side to live on.

War started between the north and south in July 1955. President Ngo Dinh Diem came to power in 1955 and during his rule people were forbidden to leave Vietnam. He was a devout Roman Catholic and hated all other religions. It was this contempt, especially for Buddhism, which drove the Buddhist monk, Thich Quang Duc, to pour petrol over himself and burn to death on a busy street in Saigon in 1963. Ngo Dinh Diem was assassinated in a military coup in 1963.

As the war continued South Vietnam requested American help which resulted in the Americans getting involved in the war in 1965, the first troops landing in Da Nang. During the American involvement there were a lot of demonstrations against them.

In 1968 I left school, aged about 14. I could not see anything useful would be gained by studying Chinese education. At least I knew how to read and write. Every day I had to pick up my sister from the OMF missionary school next to the hospital. On the way I happened to meet a foreigner who spoke fluent Cantonese. He introduced himself as Michael Meadows who worked with OMF. I then joined my father and his partner in their electrical shop starting my training as an electrical engineer. During that period, I worked mornings only Monday to Saturday using the afternoons to study Vietnamese language, believing that would be useful for future employment prospects. On New Year’s Eve 1968, my mother and I went to Cholon Market to buy some flowers to celebrate the Chinese New Year, followed by a visit to the Buddhist Temple. In the market I saw some market traders unloading flowers from their lorries when suddenly, something caught my eye. There were guns hidden in the flowers. With my mother, I very quickly dashed home. The following day saw the start of the infamous Tet Offensive, a coordinated attack on numerous cities in South Vietnam. The fireworks being set off to celebrate New Year became part of the gun fire from the attacks. There was panic. The government decreed a curfew, nobody could leave their homes unless there was an emergency. We could see the North Vietnamese troops running across streets exchanging fire. Later on, the family of my aunt was forced to evacuate their home and came to stay with my family. This dreadful situation continued for about a fortnight. We watched American helicopters firing machine guns and other ammunition. The whole situation eventually culminated with the South Vietnamese army managing to push back the North Vietnamese. As a result, the North Vietnamese suffered heavy losses. The war between north and south continued. During peace talks for a ceasefire the North Vietnamese used the time to create the Ho Chi Minh trail in order to smuggle in their weapons. As a result, in 1972, Richard Nixon ordered the deployment of B52 bombers to attack North Vietnam. They also used chemical weapons such as Agent Orange as part of an herbicidal warfare programme which they named Operation Ranch Hand. This eventually resulted in numerous births of deformed children, hands and legs missing.

In 1972 I left my job in my father’s shop and started working in Saigon as a bartender with my mother’s cousin. Because of the increased fighting, more people were required to join the army. The south Vietnamese Government began sending soldiers and policemen to perform house to house checks in order to confirm numbers of residents in particular properties seeking conscripts for the army. They destroyed our Chinese passports and ID saying that we were now true Vietnamese. Not wanting to be forced to join the army I found a solution. I resigned my job as a bartender in 1973 and started attending a farming school in Cholon which meant that as a student, I need not enlist. However, this respite only lasted one year after which I returned home to help my father in his work. When police checks occurred, looking for conscripts, I hid in a secret room behind a false wall in my house.

The war between north and south was intensifying, and the Americans were beginning to withdraw their troops from South Vietnam because of anti-war demonstrations at home. Because of their lack of support, the south was beginning to lose their grip in the fight with the north.

During my time back home, I began listening to radio broadcasts from the BBC and one day I accidentally picked up the Missionary Overseas Broadcasting Channel from Manilla in the Philippines. I found this very interesting, especially as they were giving me the opportunity to learn some English. I made a note of their address and contacted them after which they sent me some Bible Study materials in Chinese.

As a child I always had doubts about my mother’s Buddhist activities believing that she was wasting money burning joss sticks, incense and paper representing money and offering this to idols in the temple. I also found all of this idol worship with its attached vile paintings quite frightening. As a result, I became very scared at night in the darkness.

So, the war continued until 1975 with the south losing more and more land each day to the north. By April 30th, 1975 the South Vietnamese government under President Duong Van Minh gave the order to surrender. The last remaining Americans were airlifted by helicopter from the Embassy building roof. In the airport people crowded around trying to escape by grabbing the wheels of the plane, many falling to their death. I remember on that day going out on to the street and seeing all the North Vietnamese tanks pass by and Police and soldiers removing their uniforms and running away. Guns and Ammunition were left all over the street. Some people picked these up and shot them into the air hitting high voltage cables that then fell down on top of them, killing them. The whole city was in pandemonium with people looting everywhere. I saw a helicopter with dead soldiers in it stuck on a high building not too far from my home. I went into the centre of Saigon and saw anti-aircraft guns on display and tanks had knocked down the palace gates in order to gain entry and hoist the Revolution flag, red and blue with a golden star. Gun fire could still occasionally be heard with people running. In the harbour I saw the last boat leaving and later I heard more gun shots. I believe the captain of that boat had been shot through the head. Remaining troops surrendered.

As there was no real control within the country at that time people were not fully aware what was happening. More and more North Vietnamese troops arrived in the south and tried to establish some control in the city. After the fall of Saigon, the Communists started to exert their rule, their first task being to change the currency. Then they distributed food passports in order to buy essential items. Ex government workers and army personnel were sent to re-education facilities. Businesses were told they had the choice of being taken over or establishing partnerships. As a result, many of these businessmen sought to escape the country if they were able, but many could not face this prospect and therefore killed themselves. After the end of the war when the Communists had taken control no foreign music was allowed and books were confiscated from all houses. Vietnam was effectively cut off from the rest of the world.

During those years I was working in an abandoned steel factory outside Saigon, a two-hour drive from the city. This was not ideal for daily travel, so the manager asked me to stay in the factory only returning home once or twice a week. At this time the factory had no electric power, having to rely on paraffin or candle lighting. Each time I returned to my home I had to go to the manager’s home to hand over documents and paperwork. I knew that he actually had no intention of running this factory but wanted the money to ensure his eventual escape from the country.

Occasionally we had to learn how to make bricks for the foundry stove. The night before had been very humid, so I had taken the camp bed outside to sleep with the mosquito net over it. During the night I had been very disturbed. I heard a dog barking and tried to sleep but there appeared to be something going round and round my bed, but I did not open my eyes. The next morning, we were making bricks with some chemical liquid and powder in a large drum. Whilst stirring it there was a sudden explosion and I found myself rolling on the ground yelling whilst feeling something on my face and arm burning. Other people were similarly affected but I was definitely the worst. No-one was sure what to do, whether I should be immersed in cold water or something else. I was rushed to the local emergency unit where I was given an injection and an attempt was made to clean off the chemicals from my skin and face, after which I was put in an ambulance and transferred to the former American hospital. I was anaesthetised and a tracheotomy was performed and the next thing I was aware of was waking up with my face and eyes covered in bandages. I was on a drip and had to remain in the hospital for a week. As I was unable to feed myself a nurse was responsible for this task. Friends and colleagues came to visit me. One night I panicked and was struggling to understand what was happening to me and it transpired, as I discovered later, that the needle had fallen out of my arm and I was losing a lot of blood. Fortunately, a friend staying overnight with me noticed this and called the nurse who re-inserted the needle. I was lucky to survive. Eventually I was discharged from hospital and went home to rest. When I looked in the mirror, I saw for the first time that my arms and face were scarred. I wondered if this was permanent. Many friends, including my boss, came to visit me and I was informed that I was being moved to a different steel factory called Victhaco.

After a fortnight I started my new job working different shifts each week and being introduced to the rest of the team. We became very close. At the end of each shift, we were forbidden to leave the factory, having to stay for Communist ‘re-education.’ During these sessions it became obvious that no-one was the slightest bit interested so the educators offered bribes such as cigarettes, but our one aim was to get home. Food, jobs, and money were used indiscriminately to control people. Cash withdrawals came under scrutiny with communist officers asking the reason why a withdrawal was necessary and then considering if it could be permitted.

I remember a South Vietnamese president once saying that we should not listen to what communists say and to be careful of their actions. They could never be trusted, and people should NEVER criticise them otherwise they could ‘disappear’ in the middle of the night and never be heard of again.

One weekend I paid a visit to my previous boss and was told by his adopted daughter that the family was planning to escape. She did not know the details but was in tears not knowing what the future held. I wished her well and said goodbye.

Next day I returned to working a night shift. I was doing a routine check of equipment and happened to speak to the girl in the control room before returning to the maintenance room. I lay down on a bench for a rest when suddenly I felt something on top of me. I struggled, trying to call out, but felt completely paralysed, unable to move at all. Eventually I became free but felt quite scared, so I left the room to go across to the office again and spoke to one of the girls, telling her what had happened. She informed me that somebody else had also experienced this. It transpired that the factory had been built over a graveyard and, as such, spirit visitations such as this were not uncommon.

Time passed and eventually the Communist Party took over the factory. There were no longer private companies nor businesses in Vietnam. One day, on my way home from work, I paid a further visit to the home of my previous boss only to discover that the door was padlocked and sealed. My immediate thought was that they had left. I returned home but felt very uncertain about my own future.

As each day passed my facial scars improved. Occasionally my friends and I managed to meet up for some fun, but these times were short-lived as the Communist party forbade people to gather together. Even in churches representatives of the Party were seated at the back to monitor everything that was said or done. Life was becoming harder each day. On a day off from work Party members could be knocking at your door telling you to return to work to do some repair job or maintenance. They ensured that you knew they were superior to you. If any maintenance work was reported to them as necessary, they would instruct you to ignore it and just carry on regardless.

One night whilst at work there was a sudden big explosion. I went out and saw people running. The lid of the stove had blown off and there was a hole in the roof. Fortunately, only a few people had injuries, and these were minor. As a result, the whole foundry was shut down. The following morning an inspection was made by officials who demanded a full report, and it was discovered that the fault lay with the scrap metal department who had not checked whether all materials were suitable for putting in the stove. The whole process of repair took a week and during that time we had to endure further re-education sessions. Every day I found myself with less and less freedom, just going to work and then returning home.

A few months went by and one day there was a breakdown in the cooling system of the stove because three high voltage carbon brushes were being used to melt metal. The cooling system started leaking water causing sparking thus stopping it working. We had to remove these brushes to dismantle part of the cooling system to enable repairs to be made by the mechanic. We had to be driven to his house to bring him into the factory. Meanwhile, the remainder of the foundry workforce had a rest! The following morning there was another visit from a Communist official to discuss the problem. He asked me to write a report, so we told him that the fault had actually been reported several months ago but we had been told to carry on regardless. This was the result. He was not happy. Then followed yet another meeting.

One day I received a letter from the local authority asking me to stand guard in the local community for an hour. I replied that as I worked, I would not have the time to do this. I took the letter to show the Communist official in the factory and was told to leave it with him. I received no further letters after this. My priority had to be production in the factory.

During the Communist rule, because life was becoming so much harder, a lot of pick pockets plied their trade in the markets and streets. One weekend, I went into Saigon to see my sister and saw a dead body lying on the street with a note on his back warning everyone that this is what would happen to pick pockets if they were caught. He had been shot.

In 1978 I was just arriving at the factory one morning when somebody told me that one of my friends had had an accident whilst carrying out routine maintenance. He had fallen some height from the sky cage and had landed on a pile of steel, one piece of which pierced his chest. He was rushed to hospital. I inquired at which hospital and, with a friend, rushed over there to see him but unfortunately, we were too late. He had already died. Both of us were extremely upset. No words can describe how we felt. If there had been some sort of health and safety enforcement, he might still have been alive. I was very much affected by this emotionally and mentally. During this difficult period, we began to realise that life appeared to have no meaning. There was no freedom, no social life, just going to work and coming home.

A further few months went by and I was becoming increasingly depressed. I heard people secretly planning to escape the country and there were even rumours that the Chinese were sending over ships to evacuate Chinese residents. I am still unsure whether this was true. One day, whilst travelling to work, I decided to hand in my notice. Their reply informed me that I would not be allowed to leave until they found a replacement. In other words, my notice was not accepted. I had no choice but to carry on as normal. Meanwhile, I was hearing fresh stories every day of people who had managed to escape the country and, in the same breath, of people who had died in the South China Sea whilst making the attempt.

One day, on my way to work, I made up my mind that, regardless of their decision to reject my notice, I would leave my job anyway. I had spoken to my colleague about leaving and he knew my plan but advised me to be careful. He was actually thinking along the same lines himself. I worked until the end of the week, said goodbye to my colleagues and asked them to keep my departure confidential and returned home. My parents knew of my decision so I asked them that if anyone came looking for me, they should say that I had gone to work but had not returned home.

Meanwhile, I sought to discover the best way of leaving the country. Due to Communist rule, there was a lot of corruption in the country. Each province had its own control. I had not been to work for three days when my colleague turned up to tell me that people were looking for me and he had been asked if he knew where I was. The following week a local officer came to my house and asked my parents where I was. They replied that they did not know. They were advised that should I return I was to report to the Communist Party office. I then realised that it was no longer safe to remain in my home. My mother spoke to my aunt and requested that I should be allowed to stay with her for a while. She agreed but it meant that I had become a virtual prisoner in her home unable to go out anywhere for fear of being captured.

Eventually, I managed to negotiate a way of escape with others, including my aunt’s family, who had a similar escape plan. The cost for this was levied in gold. My two brothers and myself eventually left my parents to go to My-Tho where we stayed in a former electrical shop for a couple of months waiting for the right time to escape. My mother visited us every fortnight and, during the waiting time, we met others in the same situation as they waited to escape. One day we were finally told to gather in an empty house. On that day my mother arrived to say goodbye to us. We met up with a lady called Le and my mother asked her to keep an eye on us. She had two children, a girl, and a boy. The girl’s name was Anh which she eventually changed to Anna. The boy’s name was Thanh. This lady was also expecting another child. By that afternoon we had gathered together by the sea and were taken by a small boat to another remote island. We said goodbye to my mother, and I could see the tears in her eyes as we left.

We had to wait until nightfall when we boarded a 24-yard fishing boat with three decks. There were roughly six hundred people on board. It was boat number 082, painted on the side and was called in English ‘Sea Dragon.’ My brothers, my friend and I were on the bottom deck. When everybody was on board it was discovered that we were overweight, so some baggage had to be thrown overboard. After being offered a bribe, the police allowed us to set sail and a gun was fired in the air. As we left, we knew there was a 99% chance of dying in the South China Sea and only a 1% chance of survival but in our desperate situation we had no choice but to take that chance. It was 18th May 1979.

We set sail into international waters and journeyed for three days and three nights. Food and water were limited and during those three days I neither drank nor ate. Even if I survived the sea, I realised I could possibly starve to death. With about six hundred people on board space was at a premium and some people were even sitting on air vents thus starving the lower deck of oxygen. When somebody started pinching their bottoms these people moved off quickly!

Suddenly the boat started having problems with lights going on and off. Then I realised that the boat was taking on water and I was getting wet. I believed this was the end. The boat continued sailing for about half an hour when all of a sudden there was the noise of people shouting, followed by a bang. It was a SOS signal. It was midday on 21st May. A cargo ship had just come out of Malaysia. The name on the side was Sibonga. This ship saw our signal and recognised that our boat was in serious trouble so turned around and came towards us. Some conversation took place ascertaining who could speak English and they finally agreed to rescue us, taking us on board their boat on the condition that we brought nothing with us. Women and children went first, being hoisted up with men and younger people using the rope ladder. Eventually, I came up from the darkness and it was my turn. The sun was so bright it dazzled my eyes. I looked up at the Sibonga which seemed like a huge grey wall in front of me compared to our tiny boat in that grey sea. I was very scared. Step by step I climbed that ladder holding on very tightly and looking up. Eventually I arrived on the ship and had to lie down for a while. The whole rescue operation had taken just over half an hour. Looking down I watched our small boat lean to one side, drift away and then completely disappear under the waves.

The cargo ship started to prepare for sailing when quite suddenly another fishing boat appeared with several hundred people on it. I could not believe my eyes. Another boat full of people. So, the whole rescue process began again. In just one day the Sibonga had rescued about a thousand people from the South China Sea. The crew began offering food and drink. I was so hungry I ate a whole orange including the skin. Captain Healey and his wife gave out blankets to women and young children whilst the crew tried to direct people to the hold. I was so exhausted I fell asleep. I do not know for how long, but I awoke having a nightmare. In my dream I thought I was still on the sinking boat. I awoke in a sweat.

The Sibonga slowed down at night. Wherever I went on board there were numerous people some of whom can be seen in photos taken at that time. Fortunately, the weather was warm and sunny, so I did not feel particularly cold. The next thing we knew was that the Captain had radioed the British Government informing them that they had rescued two boatloads of Vietnamese from the South China Sea. There was not enough food for everybody, and the ship’s next destination was Japan, so advice was needed on how to proceed with this number of refugees on board. The British Government instructed Captain Healey to proceed to Hong Kong which would take about a week. Food had to be divided between each group.

During the voyage I wandered around the ship when I saw two aucas in the distance. They were jumping up out of the water with a big splash. It is believed by some people that when you see that it is a sign of good luck in the future.

At last, we arrived within three miles of Hong Kong Harbour, but the authorities would not allow us to proceed any further. A helicopter was flying over the ship and police boats were patrolling it. We ground to a halt. As Hong Kong was already experiencing overcrowding problems due to refugees, they demanded that the British Government guarantee the safe transfer of everybody on the Sibonga to Britain. Whilst waiting for a response from the British Government, some people were taken sick and had to be airlifted to hospitals so, the next day, some nurses were sent on board to run medical checks. I was feeling giddy so went to see a nurse and was prescribed some vitamin supplement.

A week later we were allowed to sail right into Hong Kong harbour, so I assume an agreement had been reached between Hong Kong and the British Government. Many observers and reporters were standing on the dockside taking photos and lots of police and security officers were on patrol. One by one we disembarked from the Sibonga and lined up ready to be sprayed with some kind of disinfectant on our bodies and treatment for possible head lice. We boarded a coach and were taken to a former RAF camp. On the way, I looked out of the window and saw skyscrapers and many people presumably getting on with their daily lives. The journey to the camp was probably about half an hour.

On our arrival at the camp there were many police officers. Again, we had to line up and were told to empty our pockets. We were not allowed to carry anything into the camp and items found in pockets were placed in a bin. We were divided up into smaller groups of about thirty and put in a small, very confined hut. Some people were forced to sleep outside on a bed roll. After 9pm it was forbidden to leave your hut. Showers were allowed only at certain times for a limited time. Even talking together was questioned, guards demanding to know the nature of our conversation. We were treated like prisoners.

The Red Cross came into the camp together with some Roman Catholic nuns. A meal was provided at lunchtime each day, but visitors were forbidden. I remembered that a reporter had been on board the Sibonga and several people had requested that he delivered messages to their friends and family resident in Hong Kong. I had written a quick message to my older brother who was then living in Hong Kong asking him to send a telegram to my parents informing them that we were all safe. When I looked out of my window the next day, I saw my brother and cousin standing by the gate. They were not allowed in and I could say only a few words to them and tell them not to worry. I then moved quickly away from the window in case I was spotted by one of the guards.

That evening, round about 9 pm, everybody had to return to their huts. Suddenly we heard an argument outside in the yard. When I looked outside, I saw a guard and a young lad arguing. The boy was trying to explain that his mother was unwell and needed water but, in reply, the guard kicked the bowl out of his hand and the water was spilt on the ground. By this time the boy was extremely angry, and tension was increasing. Meanwhile, everybody was emerging from their huts and began to form a circle between the guard and the boy. People were very angry by now at the treatment they were receiving. The guards began to panic and phoned the camp commandant who appeared very quickly. The crowds were dispersed, and we were forced to line up and listen to the commandant giving us a lecture, telling us how lucky we were being allowed to go to Britain. It was the dream of many in Hong Kong to be allowed to settle in Britain so there was considerable jealousy that we had been given this privilege.

The following day reporters arrived on the scene and the Red Cross distributed T-shirts. The news of the fracas the previous evening had spread and made headlines in the papers. When the first group of refugees arrived at London Airport, reporters and Red Cross representatives were wanting to know how they had been treated at the camp and the news was circulated and eventually reached the ears of the British Government. As a result, the whole personnel of the camp in Hong Kong were reshuffled. Things changed for the better. They spoke to us more respectfully and we could speak to them.

On 25th June we were told to prepare to go to the airport. We queued for the coach and were followed by a police escort to the airport. Upon arrival in the departure lounge we had to go through a security check, the whole process taking over an hour. Finally, we boarded the plane, together with Chris Patten, governor of Hong Kong. Security was very tight. By then it was 7pm Hong Kong time. Unfortunately, a technical problem was discovered so everyone except for us was asked to vacate the plane. We remained where we were and waited for more than two hours but eventually all clear was given and the plane took off. We were sitting towards the back of the plane.

We flew over Bangkok at night so could not see anything. The journey continued but we were all too excited to sleep but we finally landed in India for refueling. That took about half an hour after which we continued our journey. During the flight we had meals on board. Then we heard an announcement over the tannoy . It appeared that some Vietnamese had stolen toiletries from the washroom and were asked to return them immediately. I then saw a few people walk surreptitiously toward the washroom no doubt to replace them.

We then continued to West Germany where we again stopped for about half an hour. We took off yet again and flew over France and were relieved when an announcement informed us that we would be landing at Heathrow in about thirty minutes. We fastened our seat belts to prepare for landing. Other passengers began to disembark but we had to remain until last. Eventually we were allowed to leave. Reporters and medics were waiting for us, the former being very interested in how we had been treated by the Hong Kong officials. We finally got into a coach and began the final [part of our journey to Sopley Camp in the New Forest countryside, a drive of about two hours.

On arrival at the camp many people were on hand to meet and greet us and we were escorted to the reception centre to enjoy a specially prepared meal. After that, field workers escorted us to the huts where we would be making our temporary homes. We were all excited but also very tired.

The next morning, we found the food store and collected our food to start our daily self-catering. My two brothers and friend walked around the camp, meeting up with some people for a chat. We had been allocated Hut 7 which we shared with Anna Le and her family. A week later we began English lessons with our new teacher, Freda Harris. She came to our hut and began our lesson outside in the grounds. We learnt basic vocabulary such as ‘sit’, ‘stand up’ and ‘come back.’ Each week saw the arrival of more refugees from Hong Kong. Educationalists began assessments of individuals to place them in the right class.

One day, we met a lady called Cathy in the camp who originally lived in Hong Kong but had married an Englishman so had settled in Ringwood. She was working voluntarily in the camp, trying to assist wherever she could. She showed a lot of kindness to us, inviting us to her home for meals, treating us as her own brothers.

We spent our evenings in the camp studying English with the help of a dictionary. At weekends we would walk into the village of Bransgore to buy anything we needed. The shops displayed all notices in Chinese, Vietnamese and, of course, English. I would also spend time playing with Anna and her brother Thanh whom I looked upon as a niece and nephew. Every Wednesday some Southampton University student came to the camp to assist people studying English. On one such occasion I met up with a student who taught me the game of chess.

Our daily lives consisted of studying, cooking, and cleaning. We each had our own task. On one memorable occasion we saw snow for the very first time. It was so exciting, and we reached our hands out trying to catch snowflakes! As winter drew closer it became much cooler and just before Christmas a pantomime had been presented for us to become acquainted with English traditions. We were taught some Christmas Carols as well. This was our first experience of any of these festive events. Cathy had invited us to spend our first Christmas in England with her family. We enjoyed our first Christmas meal followed by a walk and a happy afternoon until John, Cathy’s husband, drove us back to the camp.

One day, I walked up to the office to get my letters and bumped into an Englishman called Michael Meadows who greeted me in Cantonese. I recognised him and told him how we had met in Vietnam. He was puzzled by this and I explained that one day I had walked up to the school next to the hospital to collect my sister. He had been walking down and spoke to me, introducing himself. This suddenly sparked a memory for Michael, and he said, ‘How amazing, after all these years to see you again.’ It transpired that Michael ran a Bible Study group in Sopley camp every Wednesday.

Our Hut 7 companions, Anna, and her family, were relocated very quickly in Milton Keynes and we moved to Hut 26 which we shared with Martin and Mimi in the next room. Our daily routine continued uninterrupted, the only change being that Mimi took over all the cooking and we ate together. One day, she shared with us something of their journey to England. Mimi had been a hairdresser in Vietnam when a messenger came and told them to get ready to leave the country immediately as there was a boat ready to leave. She dropped everything and they left.

As time went on, we became friendly with more and more people in the camp, both visitors and residents. On one occasion I was sitting outside my hut feeling homesick and very uncertain about my future when a lady, called Margaret Hicks, walked past, and asked me if I was alright. I replied that I was missing my home and she inquired if I needed any help. I told her we were short of warm clothing and she promised to see if she could help in any way. The following day she returned with various items of clothing and told us to try them on. Those that did not fit could be returned.

Every Sunday a coach would arrive at the camp to take those that wanted to church. I decided to join them. I was given a warm welcome by people there and, after the service, I met a young lady called Julie Morton. We spoke for some time and then I was taken back to the camp on the coach. I decided to ask my friend, Cathy, to phone Julie and ask if she would be willing to give me some extra English lessons. She agreed.

One day I received a letter from my parents. They told us that three of our sisters and a cousin had left Vietnam one day after us and ended up in a refugee camp in Malaysia. A week passed when I again saw Margaret visiting in the camp. I asked her to help locate my sisters. She agreed and contacted the International Red Cross. After a while she received notification that three girls and a boy fitting their descriptions had been located somewhere in Ireland but were unable to offer any further information. Margaret then remembered that several years previously she had worked with a temp in her London office. These two girls had exchanged details promising to write but had never actually done so. Margaret searched her address book and found a phone number which she rang. To her amazement, the same ‘girl’ answered the call and remembered who Margaret was. She told Margaret that some Vietnamese refugees had been relocated in her village and she would go down there that same evening and make some inquiries. Margaret was thrilled when this lady rang back later to say that these refugees had turned out to be the very people she had been searching for. The very next day I approached Michael Meadows to ask for his assistance in transferring my family members to Sopley.

I had decided to become a Christian as God had saved me from the sea and I wanted to give my life over to Him. This was in 1980 and I was baptised in January of that year. So many Vietnamese were being baptised, but I did wonder how deep their commitment actually was. They did not fully understand what they were doing. Baptism meant a full commitment to God. For my baptism I had chosen the hymn which said

‘I am a new Creation

I’m a brand new man

Old things have passed away

I’ve been born again.’

So, I started my new life as a Christian

I remained in Sopley Camp for nine months until March 1980 when I found a job in New Milton in a kitchen unit factory. It was essential that I reported to the police to inform them of my whereabouts so they could convey this to Alien House! I was free to travel within the UK but not abroad. Shortly after this my sisters and cousin finally arrived in England and also went to Sopley Camp, prior to being resettled in Charminster, Bournemouth. My youngest sister began attending Kings Park School in Bournemouth but, unfortunately, was struggling to settle or adjust. The head teacher was very aware of her problems and realised that she desperately needed her parents, so he took the initiative of writing to the Home Office and setting in place the mechanisms needed to bring them to England.

I continued work in the Kitchen unit factory for about five months and lived with a family in New Milton. Then in July of that year I was offered a job at Gardner’s Transformers in Christchurch a week before my marriage to Julie on Aug 2nd. After a short honeymoon on the Isle of Wight we returned to the new home we had bought in Bransgore, near Sopley Camp, to start our new life together.

Sometime after this my parents and another sister were finally allowed entry into the UK. They resettled in Southbourne and, a little later, my oldest brother arrived from Hong Kong meaning my whole family, with the exception of one sister, were together again. They all eventually married and settled in different areas

I continued working in Gardner’s for about three years until I realised that the lamination, they used to be affecting my hands so, on medical advice, I handed in my notice. By this time, I had acquired my full British passport but with advice from the Home Office that I should not return to Vietnam.

Having difficulty in finding alternative employment I began a course at Poole College and commenced training in panel beating after which, I began a new job in Wadham Stringer which lasted six months. I then got a job at Wellworthy Foundry in Ringwood as a machine operator. I worked for three months when my neighbour showed me an advertisement for a company in Poole which needed electrical engineers. I immediately followed this through and was granted an interview. I had with me a small notebook which I had brought out of Vietnam showing some of the electrical jobs I had completed, together with relevant diagrams. On the basis of this the manager offered me a job which I started in January 1988. After three month’s trial it became permanent.

I returned to Vietnam for a holiday in 2008 together with Julie. We travelled from the south right up to the north. Meanwhile, I continued my employment with the same company until I finally retired, after forty years’ employment, in 2018. By this time my three daughters had grown up, married and left home. We now have seven beautiful grandchildren.