RICHMOND, Va. –
On April 29, 1975, as artillery thundered over Saigon, “White Christmas” played across radio stations throughout Vietnam.
The song – part of the coded signal initiating Operation Frequent Wind – prompted nine-year-old Manh Nguyen, now a Defense Logistics Agency employee with DLA Weapons Support, and his family to race to the U.S. Embassy to escape South Vietnam.
Nguyen remembers gripping his pregnant mother’s hand – Marines shouting orders and dividing the crowd. Helicopter blades cut through the thick, humid air, as crowds pushed toward freedom. Separated in the chaos, Nguyen’s father boarded a departing helicopter, while Nguyen, his mother, brother and sister were rushed toward a bus headed for the docks – only to be left behind as the driver sped away.
They spotted an ammunition barge floating nearby, its sides stacked high with sandbags. With nothing but rope and desperation, they climbed aboard and jumped 10 feet down to its deck.
Salvation at Sea
The barge had no engine, relying only on the current to carry it. As it drifted into the South China Sea under fire, tracer rounds streaked overhead while terrified refugees prayed and wept.
“I faced uncertainty and death to have lived this long,” Nguyen said, recalling their frightening escape. “My family and I have been blessed, and I am grateful to have lived this life to pay back for all the blessings.”
Days later, salvation appeared on the horizon in the form of the USNS Sgt. Andrew Miller (T-AK-242), a cargo ship from the Navy’s 7th Fleet filled with refugees. Aboard was Vietnamese-speaking Marine Corps translator Master Sgt. Eugene Kaptur and his team from Kilo Detachment, 3rd Marine Division.
“During a period of about three to four days while anchored a few miles off Vung Tau, thousands of Vietnamese refugees were embarked aboard the [Sgt. Andrew Miller],” Kaptur recalled. “They arrived on ammunition barges, private boats, sampans and even by helicopter.”
A UH-1 Huey tried to land on a nearby sandbagged barge crowded with refugees.
“I waved the helicopter off several times, but it returned and attempted to land,” Kaptur said. “At the last minute, I hit the deck and the helicopter crash-landed right over me.”
Rotor blades shattered, injuring refugees and Marines, including fellow Marine Master Sgt. Lynn Scott. Amid the wreckage and smoke, Kaptur’s team continued loading barge survivors, Nguyen’s family among them, onto the Miller.
When the barge carrying Nguyen’s family neared the Miller, refugees attempted to bridge the gap between the two vessels with a wooden plank. The aim was to guide refugees across. Amid the chaos, one woman was crushed between the ship and barge when a panic surge pushed the vessels together.
Moments after Nguyen’s mother stepped aboard the new ship, she went into labor.
“We couldn’t help much other than getting a sheet to put on the steel deck,” Kaptur said.
Nguyen added that sailors were “ecstatic with joy,” as the baby arrived, one of many born on the USNS Miller. The family named him Miller Nguyen, after the ship that delivered him to life and freedom.
Nguyen later shared a family account that deepened the meaning of that moment: according to his mother’s memory, the same vessel had carried her family south during 1954’s Operation Passage to Freedom, when families fled North Vietnam. U.S. Navy records confirm the Sgt. Andrew Miller supported the operation to relocate hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese that year. Now it had apparently saved Nguyen’s mother again, this time delivering her children toward a new country.
New Beginning, New Challenges
After being rescued, the Nguyen family was transferred through Subic Bay, then to Manila, Wake Island and Guam, before arriving at Fort Chaffee, Arkansas. Nguyen remembers the salt air, the hum of diesel engines and the smell of cooked rice drifting across the crowded decks. His father, Victor Nuen, reunited with the family on the Miller before the transfer and became their steady guide.
At Fort Chaffee, he slept among hundreds of other refugees, unaware he would one day return as a U.S. Soldier training on that same ground.
Life in America brought both opportunity and hardship. Settling in Texas, “neighborhood children and young adults would throw rocks, eggs at our doors and windows,” Nguyen said. “They would call us ‘gooks’ because they had lost an uncle or brother in Vietnam. We do not hold it against them because it was a great loss for all of us.”
Through hard work, faith and patience, his parents built a new life. “Our dad’s saying was that we have a second chance in life to live honorably,” Nguyen said.
Gratitude Into Service
Nguyen turned that gratitude into service. He enlisted in the U.S. Army, serving in the 82nd Airborne Division, the “All American” unit known for Soldiers from every state. As an infantryman during his first enlistment, and later a mortar man during his second enlistment, he served in Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm, earning Airborne Wings, a Combat Medal and a Foreign Jump Wing.
When he returned to Fort Chaffee for training, he realized he was sleeping in the same barracks he’d once occupied as a refugee – “a full twist of fate,” he said.
This year marks half a century since that powerless barge drifted Nguyen’s family to safety. Nguyen now works for DLA Weapons Support as a customer logistics site specialist in the Richmond Operational Branch, ensuring parts reach aircraft carriers including the USS Carl Vinson (CVN 70), USS Harry S. Truman (CVN 75) and the new USS John F. Kennedy (CVN 79).
“It’s especially meaningful that my family has this second chance in life,” Nguyen said. “On my bad days, the thought of being in America and around military personnel makes me feel special and gives me an indescribable joy.”
Navy Capt. Lee Eubanks, who leads the DLA Weapons Support (Richmond) Navy Customer Operations Division, said Nguyen’s dedication stands out.
“Manh is the epitome of a team player,” Eubanks said. “He is always willing to ‘cover down’ for his teammates and ensures a ‘One Team, One Fight’ approach to his work. Manh is a person of high integrity and that is displayed in his professional and personal relationships. He never hesitates to tackle a tough or unexpected project, and he remains determined to resolve that issue no matter what it takes.”
Eubanks added that Nguyen’s forecasting and demand-planning expertise consistently earn praise from leadership, peers and Navy customers.
For Nguyen, every requisition carries additional meaning.
“There might be another family out there that could be rescued, sheltered and grow up to serve our country like those that came before me,” he said.
No Country Like Ours
Nguyen is not alone in his military service. Several of his nephews now serve in the Marine Corps, continuing what he calls “our family’s gratitude to this great nation.” He still honors Vietnamese traditions, praying for ancestors, respecting elders and sharing red envelopes at New Year, all while embracing the country that gave him freedom.
“There are no other countries in the world that can love you as much as this country,” he said. “If you are not book-smart, you can still succeed with hard work. If you are book smart, you have the opportunity to fine-tune whichever career you choose.”
“Have faith in your God, your family and your country,” he said. “Be patient, be kind and respectful. The returns will be fruitful.”
Fifty years after drifting on a powerless barge under fire to safety, Manh Nguyen now stands among America’s defenders, quietly ensuring the Navy’s fleet stays mission ready. The same fleet that once lifted him from the sea now depends on his steady hands. His story is one of gratitude turned to service, of a boy rescued by freedom who grew into a man devoted to preserving it.