Vietnam Babylift Personal Stories

Jim Trullinger

Email: jt84@cornell.edu
Naples, Florida, USA

I was an escort on one of the Operation Baby Lift flights in early April. I had been in Vietnam working on doctoral research in Hue and was forced to flee Hue and Danang by air evacuation (a story in itself). In Saigon, I decided that remaining in the country was pointless, so accepted the offer of a free around-the-world ticket for participation in Operation Baby Lift.

I have a strong memory of weeping caretakers handing over their babies at a bus pickup point in Saigon. They told us that these were foster parents and orphanage workers, but I have always wondered if that was true.

When we got to the airport, I helped carry babies onto the plane, a 747 charter, and strap them into their seats. There were no baby carriers, so we just had to use seat belts tightened around the babies. There were so many babies that there was no place for me to sit. Before take-off, the flight attendant told me that if there was a crash, I was to get off the plane first and she would toss babies to me. I worried about that because I'm not a very good catcher, but I agreed. Everybody remembered the C-5A crash disaster.

When the plane took off, I sat on the floor and was tossed around, pressed back against the wall. After the plane leveled off, I was shocked to see that many of the babies' seatbelts had slipped up around their necks during take-off, threatening to strangle them! So we hussled around the plane and adjusted those seatbelts.

There were inadequate supplies on the flight, and some of the children were clearly ill and weak. Until that day, I had never changed a diaper or fed a baby, and nobody on the flight taught me what to do. I just figured it out myself, and by the end of the flight I had changed a couple hundred diapers! I think that the flight made a stop in Guam, but I'm not too sure about that. However, I have a strong memory about our landing in Honolulu. That's because the ground crews there at first refused to service the plane, which by then was quite stinky and full of trash. The crews were fearful of infection, they told us. After a long delay on the ground (maybe an hour), the cleaning crew finally entered the plane, wearing face masks and gloves. They did a quick, superficial cleanup job in record time, and they did not speak to anybody (they seemed distracted and nervous). During all of that, all children remained on the plane (except maybe some babies getting off to get adopted in Hawaii).

Next stop was Seattle, where everybody unloaded. Escorts and crew had to claim luggage and clear customs, then most of us got onto separate flights headed for different US cities. I remember that there were a lot of volunteers waiting for us in Seattle to help out. I was so tired and confused that I accidentally left the customs area and ended up in the lobby with press, public, etc. Fortuntely, I was able to talk my way back into the secure area and get onto my flight.

My next and final flight of this adventure was to New York (JFK) aboard a smaller plane, probably a 707. This time I had a seat and was put in charge of 3 older kids. Since I spoke pretty good Vietnamese, I spoke with the kids and asked them about their backgrounds. I remember they told me that they had been living in orphanages. The kids had several questions about where they were going and how they were going to communicate with their adoptive families. They seemed anxious and confused. One of the kids had polio and complained about his braces hurting. I did not know what to do about that, so I just urged him to bear the discomfort and wait a while longer.

At one point one of the kids spat on the floor of the airplane. I remember that one of the other escorts, a woman, saw that, and she berated the child in English: we don't do that sort of thing in America, it is a disgusting habit, etc. The kid didn't understand one word about what he'd done wrong, so I set him straight and told him to stay clear of the woman for a while.

After a while, my three charges went to sleep, so I was able to relax for the first time in more than 48 hours. Somewhere midway across the country I was surprised when a friend of mine showed up, the very talented professional photographer David Burnett. I had known him for a few years in Vietnam while he was on assignment for the "New York Times." He was photographing the Baby Lift and asked my permission to take some photos of me. I agreed, and was surprised a week or so later, when a half-page color photo of me and the 3 sleeping kids showed up in "Time Magazine" (issue of April 21, 1975 with Pres. Ford on the cover). In the photo, I look like a protective mother hen, with my arms atretched out over the kids. But it wasn't to protect them; it was because I had nowhere else to put my arms! If I had put them down, I would have elbowed two kids!

When we finally landed at JFK, I was one of the last ones off the plane. I carried the boy with polio and led the other two. In the passenger waiting area, I handed off the two walking boys to social workers, who took them to their new parents. Then, I literally handed off the boy in my arms to his adoptive parents. I got talking with them and did a little translation for them with their new son. I was so pleased to learn that the mother was a nurse, so I knew that the boy would get the special care he needed. The parents told me that they had been called only a day or two earlier about the child, and they were thrilled!

I remember that some of the parents in the waiting room gave their new children teddy bears, but the kids had no idea what to do with them! Not too many other memories from those moments, probably because I was so tired. I do remember calling my mother, who had no idea I was on my way home (on Long Island) -- she was so overjoyed! I then had another few hours' wait for my family to make it to the airport to pick me up.

About ten years later I dropped a line to the parents of the boy I had carried off the plane, asking how he was doing, etc. I was so pleased when the mother called and invited me to visit her home in Greenwich, CT. The boy had taken the name Luke (from his hero Luke Skywalker) and had forgotten everything about Vietnam, including the language. He was quite amused when I spoke some Vietnamese to him and told him a little about the flight. Later, I took him to a carnival and dinner in NYC. On balance, Luke seemed to be doing very well indeed, and I guess that he is living the American dream by now.

That's my story. Best wishes to all associated with Operation Baby Lift! I would enjoy hearing from Luke and the other two evacuees pictured with me in "Time."

If you're really curious, you can read my book on Vietnam, "Village at War" (Stanford University Press; out of print but still available on Amazon and through libraries).

E-mail: jt84@cornell.edu.