2010 Ranger Reunion San Antonio, Texas

Major Dalat poses with members of the USS Ranger
Reunion Association in San Antonio, Texas

On Friday night, Sep 24, 2010 at a Beer Garden/BBQ in San Antonio, approximately 200 Ranger Reunion attendees were held spell bound by a very handsome active duty U.S. Army Major, in his immaculate service uniform, named Lan Dalat. For almost 45 minutes, respectful silence was given in that beautiful open air setting , as Major Dalat wove a tale that could rank up there with the best that fiction has to offer. Only, this incredible tale, with our ship, the Ranger, playing a major role, was an honest story of a boy’s incredible true odyssey.

Major Dalat explained that in 1981, as a 14 year old boy, he fled Vietnam with his mother, sisters and brother, in a boat that obviously was not prepared to handle the 138 refugees onboard. Major Dalat said that after 15 days at sea, people were dehydrating and starving. Imminent death is all around him.

He explained that hope was dwindling for him and his family’s survival, when a tremendously large “boat” rescued them. All of the surviving refugees were taken aboard this “boat” and immediately taken below decks, and provided care.

It wasn’t until days later, when this “boat” arrived at Subic Bay, Philippines that the refugees were allowed on deck (air operations were obviously over). At that point, Lan could not see the name of this “boat”, but did see a large number (61) painted on the “side”. (As we all know, carrier hull numbers are painted on both sides of the carriers “island”) He explained that this “number” was forever embedded in his memory.

Lan and his family spent 6 months on an island called Palawan, in the Philippines, at a refugee camp until they was processed, and eventually immigrated to Orange County in California.

Some time later, Lan remembers going into an army navy surplus store, and discovering a blue baseball cap with a ship on it with the number 61!!! It was at that time, that Lan discovered that the “boat” that rescued he and his family and the surviving refugees was, in fact, the ship the USS RANGER!!! He bought that hat and has it to this day! That Ranger hat has been the key to unlocking many mysteries in Lan’s life.

(We’ve got to keep in mind that in the mid 80’s there was no such thing as the internet, and Goggle, and “search engines” that today, open our eyes to the world and can provide the answer to any and all of our questions!)

Lan went on to say, that he completed High School in Orange County, and decided that since this country had been so good to him and his family that he wanted to do his duty to help “pay back” for the freedom that this country gave him. He said, jokingly, that he joined the Army “because I never wanted to be at sea again!” For the first time, the silence was broken, when the Ranger attendees roared with laughter!

Lan explained that he served his time as an enlisted man and was ready to further improve himself and enhance his opportunities, he needed to go to college, and did so. While in college, he was accepted to the Army ROTC program. He was determined to find the commanding officer of the USS RANGER that rescued him back in 1981 to commission him. (Again, without the Internet, what would you have done to find this out??) Lan contacted the Navy Department in Washington, D.C. He communicated by letter with Public Affairs Officer, Navy Ensign Wendy Snyder. He explained to her, the need to first: find out who that Captain was, and second: to locate him today!

Evidently, some real big “buttons” were pushed, as Lan said that the next thing he knew was that he was on ABC’s “The Good Morning America Show”, and he met Captain Dan Pedersen, for the first time, in front of million of television viewers!!! Captain Pedersen was thrilled to meet up with someone that had touched his life, and all those aboard the USS RANGER back in 1981. He quickly agreed to do the “pinning” and at some point that was accomplished.

Major Lan Dalat served in Korea where he met his wife, now a US citizen. They were married, and as part of an Army assignment, they were stationed at Fort Bragg, North Carolina; Landstuhl, Germany, Naples, Italy where his youngest daughter was born.

While serving in Germany, a Navy Officer came into Major Dalat’s office and noticed the baseball cap that said “USS RANGER”. He demanded to know why an Army Officer would have such an item prominently displayed in his office. After the Major told the Navy officer about his rescue by the USS Ranger he received a remarkable story, in return, from the Navy officer. That officer told him that he was aboard the Ranger in 1981 as a helicopter pilot, and was flying the actual “chopper” that was hovering over Major Dalat’s boat the day he was rescued.

To further test the limits of remarkable coincidences, this same Navy officer went on to tell Major Dalat that he was married to an Army officer of Major Dalat’s current command.

At the end of Major Dalat’s talk to our group that night, I don’t think there was a dry eye in the audience --- (I probably couldn’t have seen one, for the “moisture” in mine).

He profusely thanked all of us, for he and his families rescue. He thanked us for giving him the opportunity to become a citizen of this country. He thanked us for helping him become what he has become today. He thanked us for listening to his needed acknowledgement of our heretofore-unknown involvement in his life.

The truth be known, it was we, the Ranger shipmates and families that were so grateful that he came forward to tell one more reason for us to be so proud of the ship with whom we served or were associated! At the end of his “Thank you”, practically all of the people in attendance either came up to shake his hand, or give him a hug or have their picture taken with him.

My wife and I were lucky enough to sit next to Major Dalat during the BBQ and she asked him if he’d ever been back to Vietnam since escaping. He said that he has been back to his village twice, with his son Dan, who was named after the Skipper and two daughters Daisy and Hanna! He joked, that since he was Vietnamese, his wife Korean, and his daughter’s being born in Italy, he wanted them to see their “roots”.

My wife explained that she has been to Vietnam twice, and before the first visit was told all kind of tales that she wouldn’t be treated O.K. and that the Vietnamese would hate her for being an American. Major Dalat smiled and asked her about her experience with the Vietnamese people. (He seemed to already know the answer). She was treated wonderfully, and that’s what prompted her second trip back.

As my wife learned, 75% of the people today, alive in Vietnam, were not around during the “American War” ----as they call it.

What a night! I’m sure, like me, anybody connected with the Ranger will never forget that truly amazing story. I believe all of us cherish our experiences we shared aboard Ranger, throughout her career from 1957 to 1993. Major Dalat added another heretofore unknown chapter in Rangers final history, and gives us one more reason to try to keep her memory alive. We were all so grateful for Major Lan Dalat coming forward to share his story with us.



Joe Maxwell (1961-62)

Not Only A Refugee (book) by Eleanor Stewart

http://notonlyarefugee.blogspot.com/

This book would never have been written if I had remained in the UN volunteers' house in Puerto Princesa on Palawan Island. It was two levels with a nice porch upstairs, hot showers, air conditioning and Filipina maids. At first, I was so busy teaching English that I didn't think about where I was living. Then, as I became familiar with the camp, I wanted to spend more time there. I had to go back and forth as a passenger on local motorbike transport. Also, I noticed that the British volunteers did live inside the camp. One largish house made of woven bamboo with a nipa leaf roof was being used by a BVO. It was near the classrooms and I was determined to move into it after she left. I moved into it quietly because UNVs had never lived inside the camp. (Benefactors had to keep their distance.) What a difference! At last, I could be a real part of the life of the camp. It didn't have a shower, just a faucet with cold water. It most definitely was not air conditioned. A small fan was all I had to help me sleep, but it wasn't about amenities; it was about being where I was supposed to be.

"It's high roof makes it look cool, but actually, it's one of the hottest houses in the camp. I've been in refugee houses near the ocean which are much cooler. The kitchen is only a counter with a gas hot plate and a few tins of food, but the bedroom has one of the most comfortable beds in the world. Split bamboo, when raised on a platform and covered with a foam rubber mattress has the right amount of "give" to support and yet not fight one's back. . . .During the time that I lived in my house, I learned to do without a refrigerator and to know how long any food could keep in the heat. (Eggs, coconuts and butter kept the longest.) I learned. . . to go to sleep and wake up to the sounds of Buddhists ringing a gong and chanting at the nearby pagoda, people practicing English, the loudspeaker playing "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" as wake-up music in the morning and classical Vietnamese music at curfew. I learned to suffer the afternoon heat and love the sound of tropical rain on the nipa-leaf roof. My small yellow and white cat and I lived there alone, but not lonely. When my door was open, students and friends would walk in. When it was closed, they would not. The night was always alive, soft and natural, I could see the sky through the tiny holes in the roof, although it kept out the rain well enough. My house did not close life out, but let it flow around me."

That was where NOT ONLY A REFUGEE was born.




Written by Eleanor Grogg Stewart

Source: http://notonlyarefugee.blogspot.com/

The Boat People (book) by Bruce Grant

Book Cover

Download a PDF version here

Journey to Freedom (video)

UK History Learning of Vietnamese Boat People

The ‘Boat People of Vietnam’ seemed to encapsulate all the suffering Vietnam had suffered from 1965 to 1975. Despite the end of the Vietnam War, tragedy for the people of Vietnam continued into 1978-79. The term ‘Boat People’ not only applies to the refugees who fled Vietnam but also to the people of Cambodia and Laos who did the same but tend to come under the same umbrella term. The term ‘Vietnamese Boat People’ tends to be associated with only those in the former South who fled the new Communist government. However, people in what was North Vietnam who had an ethnic Chinese background fled to Hong Kong at the same time fearing some form of retribution from the government in Hanoi.


Source:  http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/vietnam_boat_people.htm

Finding a New Home

In 1975 Vietnam was taken over by Communist from the north. Since that day many people who worked for the South Vietnam government were in jail. Every thing was changed, the life became miserable, and we had no religion and no freedom. From 1975 to 1990 many people left Vietnam by boat and they became Vietnamese refugees or boat people. Though just about 60% of the boat people got lucky to come to the country they liked. Another 40% died on the sea or were killed by Thailand's pirates.

Most people who escaped from Vietnam have accepted that anything can happen to them, and bartered their property and their life. Many people were jailed by cheaters or chased by policemen, but they did not lose their spirit and they tried to leave if they have the chance. Therefore, there are many Vietnamese people living around the world now, and the following is my dad's story.

I was living with my family with eleven people; I had eight brothers and one sister. We worked in a grocery store, the family's business, so my family were middle class. Life was hard when the Communist came. My family could not do business and we had to live with worry and fear whit the local government watching, because I had two brothers who worked for the South Vietnamese government.

One day my father told us to try to leave Vietnam and we started planning for that. Ever since my life has had a big change. All my brothers escaped one at a time, all except me. I was unlucky, I had escaped seven times and I was jailed two times. The first time was for six months, the second time was for one year and I paid corruption money to get out of jail. Despite the fact, that my escape was a failure, but I did not give up or get weary.

So the following summer in the year 1984 I escaped again and after seven days I arrived in Malaysia. Every trip has a different pitiable story; my trip had a story too. When I left Vietnam on a small boat with fifty other people, my boat was unseaworthy because it was very small, just about 8metres long and 3metres wide but it carried fifty people.

The people looked like sardines in a can. The engine was very old and it did not have a hooded cover on top. The owner told us that a bigger ship would be waiting out in the sea, but we could not see one, we had been tricked. We realised now how important escaping was, it was too late for us to return. In that situation we had a hazardous voyage, so we decided to keep going with hope for any ship on the sea to save us, because the weather was very good and we just hoped and prayed together.

When we had been out to sea for about ten hours, the engine had broke down. We did not have any sails or paddles to keep the boat going, so the boat kept moving without any control or guidance. The food was scarce and can only last for two days. The third day we jus drank water when it rained. We saw some ships on the way, and we signaled S.O.S, but they did not stop to help.

We were desperate and exhausted. Suddenly on the seventh day at night, my boat came to shore. We did not know where this place was until the police came and we knew we had arrived in Malaysia. After that, they took us to Pulau Bidong Refugee Camp; it was a small island of Malaysia. Now I thought that my story was too good to be true. I stayed at a refugee camp for about nine months, then I came to Australia under my brother's sponsorship. I arrived in Melbourne in the spring of 1985. I felt very strange when I got the bus from Melbourne airport to the Midway Hostel, I saw many things. The traffic, the houses, the life were all different to my country and many gardens filled with beautiful flowers. I started to learn about the Australian way of life.

I was very worried about my new life here, and whether I would be able to find a job, because my English was very poor. Sometimes I felt very upset because of my language problem, and I got very homesick.

I stayed at the Midway Hostel for about one month, then I moved out because I had some friends who found a job for me. I worked as a jewellery manufacturer, because I was a jeweller in Vietnam and I felt a bit happier then.

I worked in this factory in Melbourne for about three years, where I learnt many interesting things about my job.

In 1999 I moved to Sydney because the weather in Melbourne was not suitable for my wife and my children, they were always getting sick.

At the momoent, my children like living in Sydney and they have a very good school too. I feel very lucky that my family is living here and the education is very good for my children. I also think that, Australia is a lucky country for everyone so I love Australia, the country my family is living in.

That is my father's story and he told me that Australia is his second native country, but he will never forget Vietnam. He also told me that I am very lucky to be born here. Many children in Vietnam are unlucky because they are very poor, they work hard and they cannot go to school.

Now I come to school to learn the Vietnamese language every Saturday, because I was born here so I don't know much about Vietnam.

I thank my Vietnamese teacher for teaching me about Vietnamese culture. Whenever I come to Vietnamese class, it always reminds me of my roots.

Author: Vuong Thanh Loc

Source:  http://www.vietka.com/Vietnamese_Boat_People/AnotherHomeland.htm

US Navy Rescues Vietnamese Refugees on South China Sea

On March 20, 1981, some of the 138 Vietnamese boat people wave at a US Navy rescue helicopter hovering over the unseaworthy wooden boat on South China Sea during a rescue operation.

Inset:  Lan's mother, Cam Quy Ton peers out the port hole taking a glimpse of her rescuers.

Photo courtesy of the US Navy

Story by Lan Dalat


The bright Southeast Asian sun had not broken the still of the night when my mother, my three siblings and I crept along the edge of the Saigon River. My father remained behind to ensure our safe passage. We left everything behind for a perilous journey searching for freedom and opportunities.

In tense silence we waited at a prearranged spot on the bank of the river. After what seemed like forever, we slipped unnoticed into a fisher- man’s canoe.

As the sun began to break the horizon and illuminate the gray water, we crept smoothly along the river, flowing past the bank like a big bamboo reed pulled along with the slow moving current. It was a dull, monotonous trip. A few days later, our canoe reached the pickup point.

Out of the fog-shrouded darkness, a fishing boat eased to a crawl. Once again we slipped through the twilight, climbed out of the small canoe and onto a larger boat that was packed with others.

At that moment my family and I unknowingly joined a new and growing demographic called “boat people.” We were among thousands of Vietnamese who crammed onto small wooden fishing boats and fled Vietnam. Not knowing the actual outcome or destination we set off in an unseaworthy wooden boat hoping to land on a peaceful shore somewhere in the world.

From the relatively still river we pushed off into the sea. It was rough going.  Day and night, the waves lifted the tiny boat and crashed it down again and again. The engine sputtered and the boat shuddered with each wave it survived. Day after day, the sea seemed determined to end our journey. Yet we plowed forward—our past certain, our destination unknown.

After enduring five days of the pounding waves, the small boat’s engine protested one last time and stopped. We were without power and adrift on the open sea.

Soon the food and water supply ran low. In cloistered circles people began quietly, seriously discussing the implications of cannibalism for our ultimate survival. The remaining water was rationed down to one soft drink capful a day. Even with this severe rationing the water supply ran out two days later. Dehydration and severe hunger caused massive hallucinations among the boat people.

“Mommy, can you buy me some water? I’m so thirsty,” my little brother desperately asked my mom. “Son, I will buy you all the water you want when we get to shore. Don’t worry, we will be there soon,” my mother said, attempting to comfort my little brother.

It was here on the boat that I first learned about line-of- sight communications from my mother’s compact mirror.

It wasn’t clear if she actually saw an airplane flying above or was just hallucinating. Nonetheless, she said she saw something and pulled out her mirror attempting to communicate with the plane using the reflection of the sunlight. Nothing happened.

For the next seven days, the boat carrying 138 people remained adrift on the South China Sea. Hope for survival dwindled. Now there was no wind, no waves and no land anywhere around our boat. Fear was palpable throughout the boat. It was the dread of a painfully slow death that everyone wanted to avoid. Facing a critical juncture, some openly discussed suicide as a better alternative to dying of starvation and exposure.

Early on the morning of March 20, 1981, we were awakened by a deafening noise.

Two low-flying jets roused everyone from our miserable sleep.

Those who could speak uttered the questions aloud that some were too weak to muster. Was it a mass hallucination? From what country are those jets? Are they Russian or Chinese?

Suddenly three shots rang out from the boat’s bow. A defecting soldier had fired three rounds into the sky from his rifle. He attempted to signal the aircraft to return with his SOS message.

“They are definitely real,” a man shouted confidently. “Those are Americans and we are saved!” The pronouncement sparked a wild excited cheer. The hidden energy from being near death suddenly emerged and triggered the impulse for survival.

The jets disappeared over the horizon and never returned. Anxiety quickly set in as everyone waited for the jets to return.

I forgot about the hunger. I forgot about the thirst. I was so excited about the possibility of being rescued. On that very hot and dry day on the surface of the calm sea, I vigorously scanned the horizon for any sign of the planes. The sun began to lower toward the horizon. The adrenalin rush was consumed. Our hopes for rescue faded and our morale diminished. Most of us stared blankly toward the horizon with disbelief and disappointment.

One by one we sank lower into a deep pit of hopelessness. Suddenly, a voice cried out “I can see the ships. Over there! Over there!” It was on the opposite side from where I sat. I could not see what was causing the commotion. Everyone craned their necks trying to spot the ships. Noise inside the boat began to increase as excitement once again filled the air. In the port hole across from me I was able to see for a brief second a fleet of ships sailing slowly on the horizon. Pure excitement rushed through my body as I screamed out while looking at my mother and siblings. “I can see the ships!”

Early that evening, U.S. Navy Captain Dan A. Pedersen, USS Ranger CV-61 commanding officer, ordered his crew to rescue all 138 of us from the dilapidated wooden boat drifting on the South China Sea.

USS Ranger CV-61 prepares to receive 138 refugees on March 20, 1981

Photo courtesy of the US Navy

This is an excerpt from the original published article from the Army Communicator.  READ MORE  The Next 150 Years, 2010 Vol35 No3.