Even as the Vietnam war wrought death, destruction, and suffering to innumerable people, it was not without its humanity. It was possible to find compassion and agape even among the loss and pain of war.

One of my typical missions brought me to an unknown location somewhere in the Mekong Delta. I landed in a field beside a group of trees surrounding a small-unnamed village next to one of thousands of unnamed canals that crisscross Vietnam. As I sat on the opened ammo bay door eating some military c-rations, a large group of Vietnamese boys from the local village gathered around my helicopter. I guessed them to be somewhere around seven to ten years old. They became quite loud as they sought some of the chocolate usually found in c-ration boxes. I noticed a young girl quietly standing a few feet behind them. I shooed the boys away by pointing away from the helicopter and saying sternly, “De-de mau!” Vietnamese slang for “go away.”

As they scattered, I motioned for the girl to come over. “Laida!” I said, motioning her to come close. She slowly walked up to me and stood quietly as I rummaged around inside the helicopter looking for a chocolate bar. I emerged holding a chocolate bar and reached it out to her. She gently took the bar from me. As she unwrapped it I motioned for her to move aside, as I was going to start the aircraft and leave for my next mission. She walked toward the woods surrounding her village. I started the helicopter and went about my mission like I had done hundreds of times before.

The days passed and no thought of that girl ever crossed my mind; she was just one of millions of young children I encountered on almost any given day in Vietnam.

Some months later I found myself sitting in that same field, next to that same village. Once again, I opened the ammo bay door in order to sit down and wait for my turn to fly on our daily search and destroy mission. I sat, starring at the ground, not thinking of anything in particular, when I looked up to find that same girl standing in front of me. She reached out her tiny hand, holding a large piece of fried fish. She said nothing, as we did not speak the same language. I reached out and took the fish and smiled at her as I said, “thank you” in English. As I sat eating that fish filled with snail shells and who knows what, I looked back at her watching me. Tears welled up inside me as I thought about this little girl living in the worst of conditions and trying desperately to survive an endless war.

I thought, “Here is a young child who has nothing, yet had her mother fry a piece of fish and brought it all the way from her village to repay me for the chocolate I gave her months before!” It blew me away that she even remembered me, much less possessed the kindness to give me one of her few possessions. Snail shells and all, that was one of the best pieces of fish I have ever eaten because it was given out of agape to a complete stranger, one of many who were ravaging her country.

Soon I flew away and never again returned to that little field beside the village. That sweet little girl has never left my thoughts. She taught me a wonderful lesson that day.

After returning to the States, I would think of her and daydream of returning to Vietnam to adopt her. It was only wishful thinking, as there was no way of accomplishing such a feat. That not withstanding, she has remained with me all my life, and often before falling asleep, I say a prayer that she defeated war and grew up to raise a family as loving and thoughtful as her. I think of her often, even to this very day!