As posted in the Mimbres Messenger:

http://blackrange.org/mimbres-messenger/mimbres-messenger-july-2020.pdf

Give me Your tired, Your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free …
(Inscription on the Statue of Liberty)

It was the 4th of July, in the 1970s. I was an aircraft mechanic aboard the USS Enterprise, an aircraft carrier, and the biggest combat ship for its day. I was a nineteen-year-old "snooty-nosed kid" away for the first time from home (United States) and the protective guidance and loving comfort of Mom and Dad.

On the day we celebrate our Independence, our ship and crew rescued a number of Vietnamese "boat people" in the middle of the South China Sea. Throughout my life, I've had a reoccurring dream, a reenactment, of this rescue. For some odd unexplained reason, I've remembered and commemorated this incident every Fourth for the last forty-five years.

It was a warm day, blue sky on all horizons, cloudless with turbulent dark water. We suspended "flight operations" in order to steam towards a rickety, sinking, wooden boat. It was overloaded with people, mostly children, a few old women, a handful of men. They looked shocked by hunger, thirst, and loss of hope. All where sunburned dark brown, with wide dark eyes, shallow faces and emaciated bodies.

As they were being unloaded by a helicopter onto the flight deck, we flight deck crew formed a gauntlet to prevent these distressed people from wandering into the many deadly hazards on a flight deck — aircraft, fuel, ordnance, hot burning surfaces. A ten-year-old small, petite girl, whose most notable feature was her big brown eyes, wearing only a deteriorating pair of stained underwear, locked eyes with me. I smiled. Her eyes looked terrified, traumatized, uncomprehending as if they had witnessed untold horrors no one should see. We held our gaze for a few seconds. She cracked a hint of a smile, as she was shuffled off to the living quarters for refugees. I never saw her again. I've always wondered what happened to her? To the others? To the people who were not rescued?

They were the surviving families of our friends and allies and were escaping persecution, death, and worse. They launched their barely seaworthy boats from their homeland towards the unknown, expansive ocean seeking "to breathe free." They were armed with the hope that American vessels would not abandon them. An untold number died a slow painful death at sea. The price of freedom is high.

Recently, I viewed a profound, deeply moving documentary, "Finding the Virgo" (saw it on the PBS channel), that provided me some answers. A Vietnamese woman, Lauren Vuong, made this film about her quest to acknowledge and give thanks to the crew of the ship Virgo who rescued her and her family from their plight to escape Vietnam. They were days from expiring from thirst and starvation. She now lives in California and is a practicing attorney and accomplished filmmaker. She was a girl of six when she was rescued. Seeing the noble, productive person she's become has helped bring a sense of closure for something that's haunted me — those dark, penetrating eyes of the ten-year-old girl we rescued at sea. I especially appreciated her father's heartfelt comments he made at the end of the film where he thanked America and its people for taking them in and giving them a home. Ms. Vuong's courageous mother and father have become two of my American heroes. I learned from her and I'm grateful.

As we gather with our family and friends to celebrate our Independence with fireworks, barbecues and libations take time to honor and give a "Thank you" to the women and men (many are, like I was, "snooty nosed") who watch over and guard our freedom. Later before retiring to rest say a prayer or a plea to the Almighty for their safety and for all the families who sacrifice their loved ones for our security and independence. Happy Fourth of July!

Mungo de Grijalva

A visitor to the area, with remote relatives in New Mexico