Delegation members had also been astonished by Martin's seemingly unshakable confidence in Thieu's regime and the ability of South Vietnam to defend itself against the Communist offensive. A State Department official said that, despite the hopelessness of the situation, Martin was still planning for future economic and social programs in South Vietnam.

The swiftness of South Vietnam’s downfall startled North Vietnamese leaders, too. They were as puzzled as the Americans by the erratic behavior of the South Vietnamese. General Van Tien Dung, the North Vietnamese army chief of staff, was shocked by the swift success of an offensive he had expected to last two years or more:

Why, he [Dung] wondered, had Thieu decided to abandon the highlands. It was, he noted in his diary, probably a “fatal mistake.” In previous offensives, he might have spent weeks or months pondering, discussing, waiting for orders. But this was the difference in 1975. .. . He was able to issue the orders to take advantage of the Saigon retreat and move his troops in fast pursuit.

The blood bath predicted for so long by U.S. and South Vietnamese leaders did not take place. Roland-Pierre Paringaux, the only non-Communist journalist allowed in Da Nang shortly after its capture, described what had once been South Vietnam’s second largest city as a “picture of calm”:

“The city’s streets are full of life, the military presence is inconspicuous, and soldiers on patrol are indulgent, even after the 9 P.M. curfew, which is ignored by a few strollers and street merchants. ... Foreigners who stayed in Da Nang were issued papers giving them freedom to move through the city. Among them were 120 French citizens; some 50 Indians, Chinese, and Canadian and American Roman Catholic priests.”

Saigon: A City Under Siege

As the North Vietnamese tightened their strangle hold on Saigon in the last week of April, the city appeared resigned to its fate. President Thieu was gone. The new president, Duong Van “Big” Minh-nicknamed “Big” by Americans because of his height and to distinguish him from another Vietnamese official named Mirth-was frantically trying to arrange a cease-fire or some other way to prevent the destruction of the city. But most Saigonese and their uninvited refugee guests knew that the end was approaching.

For some the finality of it all induced a strange sense of exhilaration or at least promised a welcome release, one way or the other, from the tension that gripped the city. Others sought escape in movie houses, which remained packed even as the Communists entered Saigon on April 30. There were also those who looked for a miracle that would lift the siege and save the city. Rumors abounded that the U.S. had succeeded in winning an eleventh-hour cease-fire agreement from Hanoi; that General Giap, North Vietnam’s military mastermind, had been killed in a coup, and all Communist forces were being recalled to the North; and that the mighty American B-52s would appear in the sky once again to preserve the nation.

The severity of the crisis also brought formerly hostile factions together for one last prayer for the peace and solidarity that had eluded South Vietnam for so many years. Catholic priests and Buddhist monks gathered at Saigon’s cathedral for the city’s first joint religious service. In the words of one Buddhist monk, prayers were offered to Buddha “To seek harmony and protect and help the Vietnamese people. It would be very good to help us sufferers.”

But there were many in Saigon who, like Thieu and Ky, did not wait for the final act of a drama whose climax they fully anticipated. Throughout March and April, all who could afford or scrape together the means to get out of Vietnam did so. The last commercial flights from Saigon were filled with South Vietnamese officials and their families, wealthy businessmen, and others with the necessary funds and papers.

Saigon, which had been transformed into a booming metropolis by the steady flow of American dollars, unraveled. People sold houses, cars, and expensive appliances at drastic losses to buy gold, U.S. dollars, preserved food for traveling, and oceangoing junks. Though there were many bargains, there were few buyers. In two weeks a palatial Saigon villa dropped in price from $125,000 to $31,000 — and still wasn’t sold.

Saigon’s prostitutes, who had prospered when there were five hundred thousand American GIs in South Vietnam, also felt the sting of war. Dinh My Linh, the uncontested queen of Saigon’s bar girls, did not know where to turn. She said:

“Every night when I go home I drink three or four bottles of beer to try to make myself sleep, but how can I? I think about my mother and father, that I will never see them again. When the VC come, probably they will kill me.”

Other prostitutes, who had supported large families by their profession, washed their faces clean of make-up, donned peasant attire, and returned to their villages to prepare for the inevitable.

Private U.S. companies began withdrawing their American employees and their dependents in late March. The American banks in Saigon quietly removed their American managers and employees and most U.S. currency on Friday, April 4 on specially arranged flights.

Their departure was not discovered until the next Monday morning when the banks, staffed only by Vietnamese, refused to handle any more foreign currency transactions. This left hundreds of people stranded with worthless travelers’ checks.

To be continued in Part Three . . .