In the 15th century, Portuguese merchant ships were anchoring at the mouth of the Saigon River, in that part of the world called Indochina, implying trade routes from India to China. Catholic priests were part of the growing settlement to convert and educate the populace. When the French arrived, this small fishing village was named Cap Saint Jacques and became a popular weekend resort for the Saigonese to escape the city heat and enjoy the beach and restaurants. The setting was peaceful and beautiful, with two small mountains pushed out to the sea on a peninsula with beaches and tropical breezes.
But the French left, and the village was renamed Vũng Tàu, and in a few years, American soldiers began arriving on those same beaches. A small military base was built which included an airfield and a hospital. There was a Vietnamese priest named Father Dominick who was often seen at the hospital, tending to Vietnamese patients and helping wherever he could.
One Christmastime, on one of the hospital wards, a medic was directed to greet some visitors. A nun appeared at the door leading a group of schoolchildren. The children were shy and a little girl of about eight years nervously holding a small package suddenly offered it up to the medic. Surprised, he said thank you in Vietnamese. The group then began a procession all along the ward, nodding and saying hello at every bed. The medic removed the bit of paper around his gift to reveal a white linen handkerchief. It had been decorated with colored threads and on one comer said “Noel ’67”, and her initials.
In the following year, the medic and a local girl received the sacrament of marriage from Father Dominick in the post chapel. It was attended by some hospital staff and the bride’s large family.
The last of the Americans left at Vũng Tàu. It was not a place of great poverty. There were small businesses, agriculture, and fishing. But when the schoolgirl grew into her mid-teens, a time came when the village became gripped in uncertainty and fear. There was a great change coming. The people waited.
Maybe, at Christmastime this year, there will be a grandmother in Vũng Tàu who will remember visiting the American hospital so long ago. And the medic will once again open his top dresser drawer and retrieve a small box.