Escape from Vietnam

When Vietnamese Saints suffered through war, evacuation, camps, and being split from their families, they held strong to their faith.

On a bright Sunday in April 1975 in the war-torn country of Vietnam, Nguyen Van The (pronounced “Tay”), president of the Saigon Branch, entered the local meetinghouse. Right away, members of the branch surrounded him, their faces full of frustration and hope. “President The! President The!” they cried out. “What news do you have?”

“I will tell you everything I know after sacrament meeting,” he said. He urged everyone in the crowd to remain calm. “All of your questions will be answered.”

branch president receiving a tithing donation — Nguyen Van The, president of the Saigon Branch, receives a tithing donation in 1973—about two years before the war forced members to leave Saigon.

For decades, Vietnam had been a divided land. Conflict had erupted shortly after World War II. American forces had fought alongside the South Vietnamese against the communist rule of North Vietnam for nearly a decade, but the high casualties led to America’s withdrawal from the war. Now the North Vietnamese forces were closing in on the southern capital of Saigon.

As President The entered the chapel and took a seat at the front of the room, he could hear the rumble of artillery fire. The war that had brought so many Vietnamese Saints to the restored gospel was now tearing the branch apart.

After the meeting, President The informed the Saints that the United States embassy was willing to evacuate Church members. The branch members insisted that President The’s family evacuate immediately so he could give his full attention to evacuating everyone else.

His wife, Lien, and their three children, along with her mother and sisters, flew out of Saigon a few hours later.

The following day, President The and a fellow Saint, Tran Van Nghia, hopped onto a motorbike to seek help from the International Red Cross. But they soon met a tank with a large gun that was rolling rapidly toward them.

Nghia swerved off the road, and he and President The clambered into a ditch to hide. The tank rumbled by them.

Saigon was now in North Vietnamese hands.

One week later, in May 1975, Le My Lien stepped off a crowded bus at a military camp near San Diego, California, on the West Coast of the United States. In front of her was a sprawling city of tents set up to shelter 18,000 refugees from Vietnam.

Lien had no money and spoke little English. And she had her three children to care for while awaiting news of her husband in Vietnam.

On their first night at the camp, Lien did her best to make her children comfortable. The camp had provided her with no blankets and only one cot. Her sons, Vu and Huy, crammed onto the cot while the baby slept in a hammock Lien fashioned out of a sheet and rubber bands.

There was nowhere for Lien to lie down, so she slept sitting on the edge of the cot, leaning against a tentpole. The nights were cold, and her health worsened. Soon she was diagnosed with tuberculosis.

She prayed continually that her husband would remain strong, believing that if she could survive her ordeal, then he could survive his. She had heard nothing from him since her flight out of Saigon.

As Lien rocked her crying baby each morning, she cried too. “Please,” she begged the Lord, “let me get through just this day.”

In 1976, President The was imprisoned in Thành Ông Năm. He was desperate for news of his wife and children, but all he knew about his family’s whereabouts came from a telegram from the president of the Hong Kong Mission: “Lien and family fine. With Church.”

Now, more than a year later, The wondered when he would be free again.

Life in the prison camp was degrading. The and his fellow captives were housed in rat-infested barracks. They slept on beds made of steel slabs. Meager and spoiled food, along with the unsanitary conditions in camp, left the men vulnerable to sicknesses like dysentery and beriberi.

Reeducation on the new government’s principles involved backbreaking labor and political indoctrination. Anyone who broke camp rules could expect a brutal beating or solitary confinement.

The had survived so far by lying low and clinging to his faith. For a time, he contemplated escaping from the camp. But he felt the Lord restrain him. “Be patient,” the Spirit whispered. “All will be well in the due time of the Lord.”

Sometime later, The learned that his sister, Ba, would be allowed to visit him in the camp. If he could slip her a letter to his family, she could send it to them.

On the day of Ba’s visit, The waited in line as guards conducted full-body searches of the prisoners ahead of him. He had hidden the message behind the cloth band on the inside of his hat. He had then placed a small notebook and pen into the hat. With any luck, the notebook would distract the guards.

They examined the pen and notebook, then let him pass.

Soon, The saw his sister and pressed the letter into her hands. He wept as Ba gave him some food and money. He trusted that she would get his letter to Lien.

Six months later, Ba returned to the camp with a letter. Inside was a photograph of Lien and the children. He realized that he could wait no longer.

He had to find a way out of the camp and into the arms of his family.

Nguyen Van The with his family — Nguyen Van The and his wife, Le My Lien, with their son in 1973. She and their three children found refuge in the United States, but The was forced to attend a prison camp. Later, he said, “I was able to survive the ‘reeducation’ camp because … I had faith in Jesus Christ.”

As part of its mission to care for families, LDS Social Services had arranged with Church members in the United States to care for about 550 Vietnamese refugees, most of whom were not members of the Church. Lien and her family were sponsored by Philip Flammer, a professor at Brigham Young University, and his wife, Mildred. They helped the family relocate from California to Provo, Utah.

At first, Lien struggled to find work. Philip took her to a thrift store to apply for a janitorial position. But during the interview, the manager tore her high school diploma in half and told her, “This does not apply here.”

She soon found temporary work picking cherries at a nearby orchard. She then found work as a seamstress and added to her income by baking wedding cakes. With help from Philip, she also earned money by typing reports for BYU students.

Amid her family’s hardships, Lien remained faithful to the Lord. She taught her children about the power of prayer, knowing it could carry them through their ordeals.

Then, in late 1977, Lien learned that her husband was in a refugee camp in Malaysia. He had managed to leave Vietnam on an old fishing boat after finally being released from Thành Ông Năm. Now he was ready to reunite with his family. All he needed was a sponsor.

Lien began working even more hours to save enough money to bring The to the United States.

In January 1978, Le My Lien sat nervously in a car headed for the Salt Lake City International Airport. She was on her way to meet her husband for the first time in nearly three years.

After arriving at the airport, Lien joined other friends and Church members who had come to welcome The.

Before long, Lien saw The descending an escalator. He looked pale and had a lost look in his eyes. But at the sight of Lien, he called out to her. Emotion welled in Lien’s chest.

She pulled The into a hug. “Thank God in heaven,” she whispered, “you are home at last!”