Bui Duc Tinh

We lived in South Vietnam.

The soldiers and I stayed with our unit until the end of the war on April 30th, 1975. Our unit was surrounded by Viet Cong troops earlier on the night of April 29th. The next morning, I was taken as a prisoner of war (POW). From there, I was moved around between a temporary detention camp then to other places and later imprisoned in camps. Those camps were called “re-education camps” by the communist government. Therefore, I did not leave before or immediately after the communist took over South Vietnam, but later.

I had to leave

There are documents and museums commemorating the victims of communism in many countries and in Canada. There are also many Vietnamese Boat People Memorial Monuments in many countries around the world and in Canada, right here in Vancouver. They testify to the deaths of about 120 million people killed by the Communist regime worldwide. It led to about eight million refugees seeking freedom in Canada. Today, the crimes of the communist regime are so well known to mankind. My answer to many questions asked are nothing new or unknown. But following are my experiences:

From an early age, I witnessed my country and its people suffering from the communist dictatorship in Vietnam. As a child, during the Tết holiday (Vietnamese Lunar New Year ) and during the off – school months in the summer, we always went with our parents to our family’s land in the countryside to visit the places where my grandfather and grandmother were buried, and enjoy time in the countryside with many delicious fruit trees. But our wonderful time only lasted for a few years. 

After that, the Viet Cong army often took over our village. My father was a teacher, which meant that he was a civil servant of the government of South Vietnam. Therefore, my father and our family were no longer able to visit the land and graves of our grandparents there. The last time my dad drove me to visit our land in the countryside, I watched people from our village flee the communists by boat to the market where the Southern soldiers would protect them. They waited for the Viet Cong troops to withdraw before rowing home. That day, we had to turn back to the city and that was my last trip.

Growing up, going to school, I knew the people in my village were afraid of “Viet Cong” because they knew communist regimes were extremely brutal ever since they came to power in the North, especially through the “land reform” campaign. For example, Mrs. Nguyễn Thị Năm, known by her store’s name, as Mrs. Năm “Cát Hanh Long”, was once called the “Mother of the soldiers” by the regime for contributing lots of money to the communist party and her two sons were high ranking officers in the Viet Cong army. But after they had seized power in the North, Mrs. Năm was classified as a “landlord”, and she was the first one to be executed to set an example through the “Land Reform” campaign. Then all of her family properties were seized. Her two sons were imprisoned for being relative of a “landlord”.

My most shocking memory was the Viet Cong massacre in Hue in 1968 during the Tết offensive. While a massacre at any time would have been atrocious, for it to occur on Tết, which is a big holiday for us in Vietnam like Christmas is here in Canada, it was truly unthinkable.

Our Youth Volunteers Team went to Hue to help find the bodies of people massacred by the Viet Cong army. The job of the team was to bring bodies and their belongings to the surface of the ground for relatives to identify and bury them. In the mass graves, there were both men and women, including the elderly and children, most of the bodies still tied together with barbed wire or telephone wire. Most of them had their skulls smashed in or had been buried alive. The Volunteers Team, had 100 youths who were supposed to work for only two weeks, but it took them three weeks to finish.

More than that, I was a former soldier and a former political prisoner, so I had to leave. 

More than 800, 000 Vietnamese died trying to flee the communist regime. We believed it was better to die free in the ocean than to live under a brutal dictatorship.

My escape:

In the beginning, my friends and I took the engine of an old John Deere tractor and fitted it to a riverboat. We knew that our plan of using a riverboat to cross the ocean was very dangerous as strong ocean waves could easily break the boat, and big waves could overwhelm and submerge it. However, all the boats that were designed with the ability to easily sail on the open sea were very closely monitored by the police, so we had no other option. It was decided that I would pilot the boat.

Our first attempt to escape failed because many people lost their way trying to meet up with the boat. We had to call off the plan to escape. Unable to return home, we moved the boat along the rivers and looked for a job of transporting goods to avoid detection. Luckily, we finally found a place that needed boats to transport seafood for a government-owned company. We were to carry ice to the “purchasing station” outside the seaport, where government agents collected seafood from the fishing boats in the area and then transported fresh seafood containers from the “purchasing station” to the company in the city. We were provided a permit to go out to the seaport for each trip. After nearly two years, the policemen at all the checkpoints and soldiers at the Viet Cong naval units were familiar with our boat and the workers on board, as well as our regular trips to the sea. 

One day in March of 1980, we reported to the office that our boat engine had broken down. Then we removed the engine cover and some engine parts to make it look as though the engine was under repair. We walked around asking people on nearby boats for advice on how to fix the engine and went to find engine parts throughout the morning. Meanwhile, from time to time, a small group of relatives snuck onto the boat. In the afternoon, we reassembled the engine and drove the boat to the market and back a few times, pretending to test the engine. During those trips, we picked up more relatives. Late in the afternoon, on the last test run, we told the nearby boats at the port that we were taking our boat to a known repair shop about 2 km away, so that they wouldn’t suspect anything or report us if we didn’t come back later that night. At the shop, we did not fix the engine but replaced the normal muffler with a quieter one, which we had prepared for the escape to help minimize the sound of the engine. Here, the last group of passengers came on board. We planned to come to the check station around dinner time since policemen were often inattentive as they were busy preparing dinner or eating and drinking. In the evening, the boat left the shop and pretended to be going to the purchasing station as usual. When arriving towards the checkpoint, I turned the boat in as usual, but halfway through changed the direction, slowly heading to the sea while pretending as though there was a friendly officer signalling us to go on and that we didn’t need to stop for checking in at the station. Adding to our luck, the dark rainy night helped our boat with 73 people on board pass the checkpoint, and then we went on into international waters.

On the third day, around 6 pm, we saw a red flashing light at the peak of the mainland which we knew that it was Malaysia. Everyone on board was very happy. Freedom was not too far away. But just then, a Thai pirate ship attacked us. We resisted letting pirates on board to rob and assault the passengers on board. When they came close to our boat, we fought off with improvised firebombs. Around 8 pm, the pirates used light signals to call for a second ship. Finally, at about 10 pm, two pirate ships rammed our boat from the left and right at the same time. Our boat was cut in two and sank. People who did not sink with the boat swam in the ocean until they were exhausted and drowned.

One fellow passenger named Thành and I were lucky enough to grab onto a piece of broken board. We clung to the board and swam through the night until about 10 am the next morning. We were in despair when the sun had risen and we no longer saw any fishing boats passing by. Luckily, two Malaysian fishing boats came soon after and saved us. They brought us to the mainland where we were taken to a local hospital. Late in the evening, the survivors and I were transported to Pulau Bidong Refugee Camp, in Malaysia.

Out of 73, only 17 of us remained in Malaysia.

Journey to Canada:

We did not plan to go to any specific country. While crossing the sea, we only hoped to survive and get to any land of freedom. The closest countries to Vietnam are Malaysia and Thailand. Since I was picked up from the water by Malaysian fishermen, I landed in a local hospital in Malaysia, and was then transferred to Pulau Bidong Refugee Camp.

Pulau Bidong Refugee Camp

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Seven of us shared a small hut made of a mix of metal and cardboard. It was crowded and hot during the day but cold at night. When I was picked up from the sea, I had only one pair of shorts on (not even a shirt).

If you didn’t have the money to buy the food you wanted, then food options were very limited; almost every day, we were given  rice and canned beans in tomato sauce. But to me, it was so much better than the years I was imprisoned in Viet Cong re-education camps, where I did not know if I would live to see the next day. While conditions could be difficult, with freedom in the air and in my future, nothing really bothered me. I was happy and hopeful.

My first interview with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) was the interview by Canadian Immigration Officers. I was called to the camp office because I was the representative for my boat since my arrival papers named me as the boat pilot. The interview was not about my application to come to Canada because I arrived at the Camp just a few weeks before. Other Boat People who had arrived before me and were still waiting to be processed and they had their priority. The interview was about the story of our 73-person boat, the attack, and the 17 survivors from our one boat who were rescued by Malaysian fishermen a few weeks earlier.

After hearing about our boat’s horrific escape, the interviewing officer told me that since I was a former officer of the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN), it meant that I technically belonged to U.S. immigration preferences. However, he asked me if I wanted to go to Canada instead. When I fled, my only desire was to survive and go to any free country so I said, “Yes!” The official replied, “Thank you for choosing to come to Canada!” and then offered his hand out to me and said: “Welcome to Canada!” 

I was thanked before I said “Thank you” to the Canadian officers. I found that very touching. Reassuring to hear, and left a heart-warming impression on me towards the people and the country of Canada. Thinking about the people on the same boat, I said, “Thank you for accepting me to come to Canada! I believe there are many people in my boat who also wish to come to Canada as much as I do. Please help them.”

The officer agreed and told me to tell all of my friends to come for the Canadian interview if they wanted to go to Canada.

Only a few people wanted to wait for their sponsors from relatives in England and Australia, including Thành, the man who shared the plank with me at sea, who went to Australia. The remainder, those who were still suffering mentally and physically, were priority accepted by the Canadian officers to come to Canada, to help resettle quickly.”

Only a few people wanted to wait for their sponsors from relatives in England and Australia, including Thành, the man who shared the plank with me at sea, who went to Australia. The remainder, those who were still suffering mentally and physically, by priority, were accepted by the Canadian officers to come to Canada, in order to help resettle quickly.”

I left the refugee camp for the next flight to Canada. I was lucky to have waited less than 3 months after arriving at the camp before I was accepted into a free country.

Arrival in Canada

I landed in Edmonton on June 9, 1980.

Canada: A second homeland with very kind people to help unfamiliar refugees.

I arrived in June, so the days were longer and I was in a different time zone, so it was hard to sleep when night fell.

From the Reception Centre in Edmonton, I learned that I was to come to Vancouver, then Nanaimo, with Port Alberni as my final destination. 

Most likely because my refugee records stated that I was a “boat pilot” (since I piloted the boat we used during our escape), I was taken to Port Alberni, a port city, in the hopes that it would be easier for me to find a job.

Port Alberni Employment and Immigration

I was sponsored by the government. 

Mrs. Anne St. Arnault in the Port Alberni Employment and Immigration office was one of the dedicated officers who helped refugees of the Canadian government. 

She had a kind heart and helped us beyond the duties of her job, not only during office hours but whenever we needed it.

My first Christmas in Canada was with Mrs. Anne and Mr. Ken St. Arnault’s family. Mrs. Anne St Arnault was a Port Alberni Employment and Immigration officer. Dennis, Ken’s younger brother gave me a ride from Port Alberni to Victoria where I had Christmas dinner and stayed overnight at the St. Arnault’s family home. It was very kind of her to have included me with her family on that day, as I had no family of my own at the time.

I’m very lucky to be a Canadian citizen.

The Canadians opened their arms to the refugees; even though we came from another country.

Life in Canada

I was studying to become an engineer in South Vietnam, but was drafted into the army.

 I’m now retired, my job prior to retirement was a graphic designer. I stayed with the same company for 39 years, and I had changed my positions within the same company each time I had learned a new skill.

From Port Alberni

I lived in a group home with two Cambodians and one Vietnamese fellow who came from North Vietnam. Amazingly, all of us became friends in just a day. We walked to English classes in the morning, and we mostly had dinner together. 

The kind and sincere Canadian people, who supported us refugees, helped me feel at home in just a few weeks.

40 Years Later

Very lucky to live in Canada, a free country with warm-hearted people and many opportunities

 60,000 refugees were resettled in Canada in the years 1979-80. I arrived in Canada in 1980. The government of Canada and so many Canadians worked so hard to bring us to Canada and make sure that we settled in well, and could build a life for ourselves.

I thank you all.

With Future Generations of Canadians

My personal experience and Canada’s South East Asian refugee program

          First of all: freedom is not free. It comes with a cost and I’d like future generations to remember why we had to escape from the communist regime in Vietnam.

The atrocities of the Vietnamese communist regime are not only in the past. The regime continues today in the form of many human rights violations in Vietnam.

For example, on December 14, 2019, in Hòa Bình province, the family and friends of a teacher named Đào Quang Thục held a funeral for him at home. A funeral is not like normal funerals, a funeral without a coffin.

Mr. Thục was a retired teacher. He regularly wrote on social media sites and networks commenting on unjust policies under the current Vietnam government and about how the communist party gave away our land and islands to the Chinese communist regime. Therefore, he was sentenced to 14 years in prison. And then, within a year, Đào Quang Thục died suddenly, on December 10, while serving his prison term. 

The body of Mr. Đào Quang Thục was buried somewhere unknown. Under the barbaric law of the communist state of Vietnam, his body was not given to his family nor were they told where he was buried. Their reasoning is that “delivering the body home will cause insecurity.” In addition, his relatives must wait 3 years to apply for a reburial.

In the beginning, Canada was my second home, but now it is my country. We care for it first and foremost. We do our best to help the Canadians who once helped us and give back. We’ve started by participating in the Vietnamese community’s annual programs to provide food for homeless communities through the Surrey Urban Mission Society at Christmas and Tết Việt Nam (Lunar New Year)

In an article I wrote for Thời Báo, 2018, the local Vietnamese Newspaper, “Bước Chân Việt Nam“, my words at the end were: 

“Thời gian qua mau, nhưng vết thương đau của thuyền nhân Việt Nam vẫn còn đó! Có những mất mát không gì thay thế được, mà thời gian cũng không thể nào mang vào dĩ vãng!” 

(Time passes quickly, but the painful wounds of Vietnamese boat people are still open!

There are irreplaceable losses that we cannot move past even with time!)

I want to reiterate again that freedom is not free. This is the most important thing that should be learned.

And finally, from bottom of my heart to all Immigration officers and all Canadians:

Thank you so much! 

On behalf of my family, we thank Canada for its true freedom.

Bùi Đức Tính

Vancouver,

March 2020

LIFE STORY OF A FORMER VIETNAMESE BOAT PEOPLE REFUGEE