A hero in any language
by Andy Behrendt
My wife, Tracy, is a museum curator and collections manager. Her job is basically to preserve the past and bring it to life in a new context. Whereas I've gone down some different career paths, one of my favorite parts of both journalism and the ministry is the opportunity to collect and share stories from different times and circumstances. With that, I recently asked my three living grandparents to write some memoirs. I know that they have great stories to tell, many of which I've never heard. My Grandpa Dick, who died in 2000, was an especially great storyteller, and I'm really thankful that, at the request of my cousins, he and my Grandma Alice recorded some of his war memories shortly before my died. Both of my grandfathers served in World War II, and their stories of those times and circumstances are particularly amazing.
This week, I got a chance to listen to the stories of another soldier, granted I could understand hardly a word he said. His name is Chia Long. I met him in January, during my Luther Seminary cross-cultural course on Hmong culture in St. Paul, at a local day program for Hmong elders. On Wednesday, I finally returned to hear more of his stories, thanks to William, a local Lutheran pastor and my instructor from January, who graciously came along to translate.
William and I were so interested to hear more of what Chia Long had to say because he served both his Hmong people and the United States in the Vietnam War. As I explained in a past blog entry, the Hmong people in 1960 secretly joined forces with the United States to fight communism in their home country of Laos. Through the Vietnam War, Hmong soldiers were instrumental in blocking transport of communist supplies to South Vietnam and rescuing downed pilots. But when the United States backed out in 1975, the Hmong were left to face the communists on their own, and many fled to Thailand and later America to save their lives and preserve their freedom.
Chia Long guesses he was 16 when he became a soldier, originally fighting alongside the French. He figures he's now 95 years old and has long lived with wounds in his back and near his right eye from his roughly 30 years in battle. Chia Long recalled with some laughter how the United States' Central Intelligence Agency initially showed the Hmong soldiers a film promising that with the Americans on their side, they would never lose.
Chia Long lost a lot in what would follow. He saw many of his fellow soldiers die in many battles. He also had two of his children die of disease without medical care while he was away in combat, and he recalls being able only to cry. He would later lose two more children while fleeing to Thailand after the communists took control — in the flight, he was unable to take the time to bury them. But he is still astonished that he once survived two days on his own in the jungle with a fresh wound in his back before reaching aid — he believes God was helping him. And he's proud of his service in defense of his country.
Chia Long is also happy to be in America. On the lapel of his suit coat, he wore a pin of two American flags, which someone gave him for July 4. There have certainly been some difficulties here. Particularly frustrating is that he hasn't been able to learn the English language that so many people around him speak, yet his six surviving children have adjusted to English, and his grandchildren have difficulty communicating in the Hmong language. He told me that he wished he could speak to me directly. But after about three decades, he considers the United States his home. He said he would only want to return to Laos if the American people would go back with him.
With William's help, I told Chia Long how glad I was that in this case, at least, he had been able to share his story with an English-speaking American. I thanked him for his service to my country, which is now his home, too.
There are so many great lives that have been lived and so many great stories to be told by people around us. Sometimes there are barriers that keep us from hearing those stories, like a language barrier. More often, it's a matter of time. But if we take the time to learn about times gone by, it can be a blessing. I consider it a real blessing that Chia Long shared his time — and his times — with me.
This week, I got a chance to listen to the stories of another soldier, granted I could understand hardly a word he said. His name is Chia Long. I met him in January, during my Luther Seminary cross-cultural course on Hmong culture in St. Paul, at a local day program for Hmong elders. On Wednesday, I finally returned to hear more of his stories, thanks to William, a local Lutheran pastor and my instructor from January, who graciously came along to translate.
William and I were so interested to hear more of what Chia Long had to say because he served both his Hmong people and the United States in the Vietnam War. As I explained in a past blog entry, the Hmong people in 1960 secretly joined forces with the United States to fight communism in their home country of Laos. Through the Vietnam War, Hmong soldiers were instrumental in blocking transport of communist supplies to South Vietnam and rescuing downed pilots. But when the United States backed out in 1975, the Hmong were left to face the communists on their own, and many fled to Thailand and later America to save their lives and preserve their freedom.
Chia Long guesses he was 16 when he became a soldier, originally fighting alongside the French. He figures he's now 95 years old and has long lived with wounds in his back and near his right eye from his roughly 30 years in battle. Chia Long recalled with some laughter how the United States' Central Intelligence Agency initially showed the Hmong soldiers a film promising that with the Americans on their side, they would never lose.
Chia Long lost a lot in what would follow. He saw many of his fellow soldiers die in many battles. He also had two of his children die of disease without medical care while he was away in combat, and he recalls being able only to cry. He would later lose two more children while fleeing to Thailand after the communists took control — in the flight, he was unable to take the time to bury them. But he is still astonished that he once survived two days on his own in the jungle with a fresh wound in his back before reaching aid — he believes God was helping him. And he's proud of his service in defense of his country.
Chia Long is also happy to be in America. On the lapel of his suit coat, he wore a pin of two American flags, which someone gave him for July 4. There have certainly been some difficulties here. Particularly frustrating is that he hasn't been able to learn the English language that so many people around him speak, yet his six surviving children have adjusted to English, and his grandchildren have difficulty communicating in the Hmong language. He told me that he wished he could speak to me directly. But after about three decades, he considers the United States his home. He said he would only want to return to Laos if the American people would go back with him.
With William's help, I told Chia Long how glad I was that in this case, at least, he had been able to share his story with an English-speaking American. I thanked him for his service to my country, which is now his home, too.
There are so many great lives that have been lived and so many great stories to be told by people around us. Sometimes there are barriers that keep us from hearing those stories, like a language barrier. More often, it's a matter of time. But if we take the time to learn about times gone by, it can be a blessing. I consider it a real blessing that Chia Long shared his time — and his times — with me.
posted by Andy Behrendt at 9:03 AM
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