In the last few days, Quang Tri City fell, so did Hue. The road southbound toward Saigon has been cut. We were in Danang city, and it has been besieged. Our family decided to abandon Danang, and each small group would find its own way to escape.
We knew that many people have died in these days, and many entire families vanished. We came to the point to accept rather being killed on own way than to stay and live with new regime.
Before bidding goodbye to each other in the next few hours, my father asked me to take a picture of the entire family. And this is the one.
Our Danang city fell the next morning, March 29, 1975. I began my own journey from the fall by being sent to clear the minefield around Danang Airport with just the showel purchased at local market by my own money. Many friends of mine died while doing this, but, again, I survived to taste another treatment by the winners.