A Sense of Duty: My Father, My American Journey - Hardcover

Quang X. Pham

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0891418733 ISBN 13: 9780891418733

Publisher: Ballantine Books, 2005

Synopsis

Quang X. Pham’s A Sense of Duty, the first book written by a former Vietnamese refugee who became a U.S. Marine, is an affecting memoir about fate, hope, and the aftermath of the most divisive war America has fought. It is both a heartfelt salute to the spirit of America and a recounting of a son’s reunion with his long absent father, himself a devoted officer who saw combat firsthand.

In 1964, Hoa Pham, a South Vietnamese fighter pilot, was shot down by Viet Cong antiaircraft fire while supporting American forces. Rescued by an American helicopter after crash-landing, he returned home briefly to witness the birth of his son, Quang, before rejoining the fight against the Communists.

Just before the fall of Saigon, Hoa made sure that his wife and children escaped Vietnam. He himself was not so lucky. In a rush to help relatives flee the chaos, Hoa was captured by Communist troops and subsequently imprisoned for more than a decade in reeducation camps.

Twelve years later, after gaining his citizenship and graduating from UCLA, Quang enlisted in the U.S. Marines to serve his country as his father had served his. Though part of the victorious effort to free the Kuwaitis from Saddam Hussein in the first Gulf War, he could not shake off the feelings of guilt and inadequacy associated with his “refugee complex.”

When father and son at last reunited, Hoa’s revelations about his wartime experience left Quang even more conflicted about his service in the Marines. But after years of struggling to reconnect with each other and the homeland they left behind, Quang and his gravely ill father set out on a final and profound quest–to make sense of the war in Vietnam.

A Sense of Duty traces Quang’s uniquely spirited yet agonizing journey from the Vietnam War to the Gulf War, from his experiences as an uprooted refugee to his becoming a combat aviator, and his many incarnations in between. It reveals the turmoil of a family torn apart and reunited by the fortunes of war. It is an American journey like no other.

About this title

About the Author:

QUANG X. PHAM served as a Marine helicopter pilot in the 1991 Gulf War and in Somalia. He has been an executive with QTC Medical Services and CEO of Lathian Systems, a company he founded. He is a popular public speaker and has appeared on numerous radio and television shows offering reflections on Vietnam. He lives in California with his wife, Shannon. Visit the author’s website at www.asenseofduty.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

FIRST FLIGHT

When i was six i took my first airplane ride. My entire immediate family came along, as well as an older cousin. We were so excited we kept talking about the excursion for days in advance, and I could hardly sleep the night before. A white mosquito net covered my small body and blurred my half-asleep vision. Waking and turning, I tried to count the different cricket sounds through the night; their cadence rang in unison like a kinetic, unseen symphony. In the distance, faint explosions occasionally interrupted the cricket chirping but didn’t silence them. Just like the people in my neighborhood, the insects were used to war. On most nights I would sleep right through the detonations. On this night I wished I knew what the crickets were saying.

I wasn’t alone. My mother lay nearby, and my sisters slept in the same room; that’s the way it was in our country. Families lived together and slept together. Our grandparents had lived with us until they passed away in 1969, within a year of each other. But little did we know that one day the Vietnamese diaspora would sprinkle us all over the world; we would all have our own houses.

Summer vacation had begun and we were heading for the low mountains of Da Lat, some 200 miles north of Saigon, to cool off for the day. When I was growing up, we hardly ever had any family vacations, so this would be a rare treat.

Because the countryside was dangerous, especially at night, for us air travel was safer—and we knew the pilot. That day the rain came and went, washing away the red clay on the pothole-filled dirt road leading to the airport. At the airport we moved among airplanes worth millions of dollars, yet we only had to step outside the gate to see a country mired in poverty. Our driver had dropped us off near an old, yellow half-cylindrical aluminum hangar from which we watched dozens of planes taxi-ing for takeoff and landing. We weren’t at the civilian passenger terminal. We stood on the military side of Tan Son Nhut Airport, one of the busiest in the world in 1970.

We boarded a World War II–era C-47, the military version of the DC-3, a reliable, twin-engine transport. On its fuselage was the South Vietnamese national insignia, a white star on a blue disk surrounded by an outer red ring, with red and yellow side bars. A national vertical yellow flag with three red horizontal stripes was painted on its rudder. The other passengers included families of military men, some in uniform. After a quick safety briefing by a crew member, we sat quietly on the red canvas seats usually reserved for airborne troops.

As the plane lumbered down the runway and took to the air, I looked out the window while gripping my mother’s hand. She was also holding my older sister Thi, who sat on her other side. I could barely make out smoggy Saigon receding beneath the wings. Soon green rice fields and grass-roofed villages appeared. We were flying low enough to see tiny farmers and their water buffaloes dragging wooden plows. Growing up in the city, I had only seen buffaloes and fields in newspaper photographs.

After about fifteen minutes, the pilot in the left seat motioned to me to come into the cockpit. I unbuckled my belt and stumbled up the aisle, nearly tripping over the rollers on the floor. He picked me up and placed me on his lap. I could smell his signature Aqua Velva after-shave lotion and sweat. I hesitated to touch the controls even as he assured me that it was all right to steer the plane. He smiled to the copilot as I cautiously reached out and slightly pushed on the steering column.

There in front of me was our beautiful country. Tall, sharp mountains guarded deep green valleys, and the brown Mekong River wound sinuously through its delta to the sea. Large thunderclouds were scattered throughout the skies, ready to strike lightning and dump rain on those below. The plane was buffeted by the stormy air. The hazy countryside appeared so peaceful. But unbeknown to me at that age was that our people, of the north and south, had been at war for almost two decades, the two sides supported by opposing superpowers. They had to choose sides or, unfortunately for many, face the wrath of all.

The pilot was my father. He had become one of the most experienced pilots in the VNAF. He pulled out a cigarette and turned his head to the left to blow the smoke out the small, sliding cockpit window. He hoisted me up by the waist so I could see over the nose of the aircraft. It was dizzying to be staring straight down at the ground as it moved underneath us.

We landed and spent the day in Da Lat. The return trip took nearly two hours, but I could hardly wait for us to land so I could go brag to my friends. I was hooked on flying that day. It would take another twenty years before I would become like my father, soaring over the plains of Texas, serving my country as a military aviator.

About this edition

• Publisher: Ballantine Books
• Publication date: 2005
• ISBN 10: 0891418733
• ISBN 13: 9780891418733
• Binding: Hardcover
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 288