There was a young Vietnamese woman that I knew who was quiet but smart, and friendly but alluring. On the back of a photograph that was taken on the day that I left Vietnam she wrote:
I didn't forget, but I did walk away. As a country we also walked away and let an ally fall. One of the saddest images that I have in my memory is of the last helicopter leaving Saigon on April 30, 1975, just before the city fell. What destiny awaited those who worked for us and believed that our promise of support had value? Not a happy one would be a fair conclusion.
If the facts were changed what would the results have been? It is what fiction permits and this story takes the characters down the path not chosen.
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