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In recognition of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, we are honored to share a personal story from Robert Lee, Member and Managing Partner of BMD’s Orlando office. Through excerpts from his memoir-in-progress, Robert recounts his family’s escape from Vietnam as Saigon fell in 1975. 

Though he was only six years old when Saigon fell, Robert still remembers what it was like to witness the collapse of his homeland and the harrowing journey to freedom that followed.

“Crammed into Grandma’s house with different generations of family members escaping from the countryside and nearby villages, we were holed up in what would be our last home in Vietnam. This was our solace of family and faith, where we waited for a miracle or the inevitable doom.

At nighttime, the upstairs balcony became a theater of fireworks, but they were not those Lunar New Year’s fireworks that evoke joy and cheers from children; this was war, and these were real bombs that made men in the house cringe helplessly, and the women muffled their sobs with broken whispers. With each night’s passing, the constant, loud bombing and flashes of light became louder and closer. On April 30, 1975, Saigon, South Vietnam fell. Our country and our home were lost forever….”

With no safe place left, Robert’s family spent days hiding, aware that they could not stay much longer. His parents made the difficult decision to risk the journey to the port, hoping for a way out.

“After days of hiding as the victors in war scoured the capital city, our parents hesitantly decided to try and join the evacuation at the port. With eight of us jam-packed into a VW Beetle, we navigated the war-torn city toward the port. Through the small opening, I witnessed the cruel reality and atrocities of war that my tiny six-year-old fingers could almost touch and feel beyond the car window. The sundry odor of the singed helicopters shot down and the petrol from the overturned tanks tainted the afternoon air. Sporadic gunfire from the last rebels and invaders would alert us back from the surreal moment.”

What they found when they arrived at the port was even more devastating than they had imagined. The sheer chaos and desperation of the situation left them no choice but to turn back.

“Clothless soldiers shielded only by the char of their burnt bodies laid motionless. As we came upon the outskirts of the port, we saw for the first time what the end of the world would look like. Utter chaos: the mass of humanity pleading to climb onto a vessel of freedom or to be snatched up by one of the flock of rescue birds that hovered in the orange sky; the heart stopping bombing that sank the ships together with our hopes, and those that missed awakened the defenseless waves flanking the vessels; and the barrage of artillery that grazed the sun setting vista tracking those fewer and fewer birds of freedom. Alas, my father quietly turned around our Beetle and we slipped back into hiding….”

Weeks later, Robert’s family was reunited in a small fishing village, but their journey was far from over. Under the cover of darkness, they made their way to the boats that would carry them toward freedom. The trip would be fraught with peril.

“It would be weeks later when the women and children of our family would reunite with the men in a small fishing village. But we embraced quickly and masked our relief and joy so as not to raise suspicions among the local villagers…. Finally, under the cloak of darkness, our family members and friends quietly boarded the two small wooden fishing boats and plodded our way to freedom through the thick layer of fog intending to block us from reaching our destination. We were awakened the next morning by frightened screams. The other boat was lost in the middle of the night and was nowhere to be found. Our hearts sank as the boat was most likely caught by the new regime, and the passengers would likely face the worst of consequences. We were out in the open seas for three days in shark- infested waters ravaged by sea pirates. And then the unspeakable happened, our engine blew…. There we were 75 souls on a small, wooden 50-foot fishing boat floating hopelessly in the South China Sea, out of supplies, fatigued, and low on energy that had jolted our bodies on the first morning. Our spirit sank slowly with the disappearing sun on the horizon as the waves of an oncoming monsoon crashed onboard….”

Despite the unimaginable danger and uncertainty, Robert’s family survived, eventually reaching safety. Reflecting on the significance of their struggle and the life they built afterward; Robert shares how this experience shaped his understanding of what it means to be American.

“Some view this 50^th Anniversary of the Fall of Saigon as the loss of a country and the failure of U.S. foreign policy. I view this traumatic period in my life differently. I share parts of my journey to America to truly reflect what it means to me to be an American and why I proclaim every day to my BMD teammates that I am “living the Dream!” We are truly blessed to be living the American Dream.”

AAPI Heritage Month is a time to honor the diverse voices and experiences that enrich our communities. We are grateful to Robert for sharing his journey — a story that reminds us of the power of perseverance and the promise of new beginnings.