Wellpark Reunion 2013 - London
News and Information About the 2013 Reunion
PART 2: Safely on board Wellpark, the first days
We were already in to October 2nd, but I didn’t get to sleep that night. At 6am I headed downstairs to change into deck work clothes. We tended to wear a variety of boiler suits carried over from previous ships. Some cadets had orange or grey boiler-suits, but most had one that had started life as white when first made, or navy blue. Mine was navy blue, but I had torn off the sleeves for extra cooling. We were used to changes in routine and so were prepared for something new in the orders of the day that were being passed from cadet to cadet that morning. As in any survival situation the priority was to provide shelter and the cadets were instructed to raid the ship’s lockers, and anywhere else we could think of, and strip out every available, non-essential, bit of canvas, burlap and other weather proof sheeting we could find to make a shelter for the vulnerable people exposed on top of No.5 hatch.
That meant the white canvas screening, with plastic windows, that went around the swimming pool was lashed on top of the games net that enclosed No. 5 hatch. And there were spare winch covers, lifeboat covers, even the ship’s dinghy’s sail, tied haphazardly across the net too. It ended up as an untidy arrangement that gave puny protection from the elements. But fortunately the climate was warm and there was no rain. Even the tropical sun was weaker than usual letting us off with our miserable attempt to make a decent canopy.
Drinking water was made available in buckets, and extra drinking cups provided made out of cut down soft drink and beer cans. The ship simply didn't have enough eating and drinking utensils to go round. Most of the Vietnamese had lost their shoes in their escape and as the sun rose higher in the sky the steel deck began to heat up. Some fire hydrants on the deck were opened to allow salt water for washing, but also to cool the deck which was now painful for the Vietnamese to walk on in bare feet
Most of the Vietnamese lay, curled up under blankets on the bare steel hatch cover. Some were stirring, sitting up, looking about and a few made the short walk to and from the couple of toilets that were accessible from the deck. They seemed in a daze, exhausted and drained of life by their experience. And they were quiet, not even a noise from the children. Slowly they seemed to come to their senses as the ship’s catering staff came out with food. It was a strange mish-mash of food, our cooks prepared, unsure how to provide for so many of diverse cultures and different ages. Here was a ship equipped and provisioned to feed less than 50, but now had almost 400 mouths to feed. So at breakfast the cadets were surprised to find that the customary choice had gone, and in its place was one ‘hot’ course. Peering at the plate we could see potatoes, beans of various types, meat balls, rice, peas, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms all boiled into a red-brown stew. It was an unrecognisable meal that I’m sure has no name in a cookery book. As the stewards put the food on our plates, our reactions must have given our thoughts away! What’s this?! But actually to our energy sapped bodies it was good wholesome food and tasted better than it looked, and as the cook explained, it was the same as everyone got……….Vietnamese refugees and Wellpark crew alike.
That breakfast was the big one. It was the first proper meal the Vietnamese had had for at least four days. Already the ship’s whole supply of baked beans and oranges had disappeared at the first meal.
Outside the sun shone down on the ship. Now it rhythmically rolled gently on the swell as its bow cut through the sparkling waters at full speed. Out of sight of land, our heading was northerly towards Taiwan, but the crew were told that fact must remain secret and could not be divulged to the Vietnamese. There was the risk they might fear being repatriated to Vietnam or held in detention camps and trapped into a life worse than that they had fought to escape from. The Vietnamese were not known to us, and they outnumbered us seven to one. We could not discount the possibility they might wish to over-power us and take control of the ship.
That morning we set up a one-way system. The Vietnamese lined up the stairs on the starboard side of the ship and filed, one at a time, into a cabin set aside for medical checks. It had been discovered two of the Vietnamese were professional doctors and it was a priority to check everyone over after the trauma of their escape. Basic personal details such as name, sex, date of birth were recorded, before they were asked to carry on back down to the deck via the staircases on the port side of the ship. There were a few cases of measles and they were confined to the ship’s hospital, and a family which included their grandmother were accommodated in a more private part on the rear of the ship’s accommodation.
We were amazed to discover we had 343 ‘passengers’ on board, and as dribs and drabs of their journey before being rescued came out, we were incredulous that so many could have survived such a journey on a boat we seen for ourselves the night before was less than 70 feet long. It was hard to comprehend how they had come to be on that boat. From one cadet I would hear they started on three boats, but two sank and the survivors clambered on the remaining one – hence why it was so cramped. Another would say that they were at sea for three days without food and water. We had found them more than 120 miles from the nearest land. I had been told the boat’s steering had failed. From somewhere else I would hear they had been in concentration camps and that lots of other ships had passed them by. Apparently the Wellpark had spotted what was their last remaining flare. They had had to pay large amounts of gold to corrupt officials to be ‘allowed to escape’. As the cadets passed each other as they worked around the ship they exchanged information, so that as the day went on we had a better picture of who these people were and the terrible experience they had endured.
As we organised and arranged we spoke to the people, but only a few spoke English. Communication was hard but gradually their trepidation and fear dissipated and we began to see some smiles. To us they were all Vietnamese and when we asked one ‘Vietnamese’ to tell another to do something we could not understand why they could not do it. It took some time to appreciate the mix of Vietnamese and Chinese peoples on our ship.
But things improved fast, particularly when in the afternoon we erected screens of burlap around the ship’s small swimming pool. It was a less than perfect arrangement but it allowed everyone to wash and feel a little bit better in themselves.
That evening, after it had gone dark I heard that some of the cadets were out sitting on No.5 hatch amongst the Vietnamese. There they were, some sitting talking, others playing with children. And one had got his guitar out and a few had gathered around for a bit of a sing-song. It was a holiday camp-fire atmosphere, but without the camp-fire. It was a happy time, and I thought at the time it did a huge amount to lift the Vietnamese souls, and engender their trust in us.
Elsewhere the Captain was having to do a lot more thinking. He brought together a committee of Vietnamese leaders, six of them, each one an English speaker. It was essential that he had their co-operation to ensure their safety and security on Wellpark. They agreed on what would be expected of the refugees during their stay on the ship with particular emphasis on hygiene, sanitation, fire-risks and discipline amongst their people. A strict control over cleanliness was kept by both the working Committee of Wellpark’s Officers and the Vietnamese. With limited provisions on the ship, fresh water for drinking purposes would only be provided at 0900, 1300 and 1700 hours daily. Meal times were arranged for 0700, 1200 and 1700 hours. And a doctor’s surgery was set up twice daily 0900-1000 hours and 1600–1700 hours.
I hurriedly updated my letter to my parents that night, telling them the whole story as it had unfolded. Having retired to my bunk late, after joining in the sing-song on deck I was desperate for a few hours sleep, the first rest in 39 hours.
Life was a little more normal for us on the 3rd October, the second full day the Vietnamese were on board. We were still at sea, closing in on Kaohsiung, our next port of call. The day started with the Vietnamese mainly restricted to life on the hatchcover, away from the side railings of the ship. But as time moved on new friendships were being formed. Inevitably the Committee were meeting with the Captain to gain a better idea of their future. Some were working with the Captain acting as interpreters, and administering the personnel records. Elsewhere we already had the doctors helping out with medical aid where it was required. And some of the Vietnamese volunteered to contribute by working in the galley, helping to prepare food. Some Vietnamese who had an engineering background put themselves forward to help down in the ship’s engine room. And out on deck they were just as keen to help. I had just headed down the deck with a couple of other cadets and some brushes and tins of white paint. Our orders were to re-paint the railings where the paintwork had been damaged and spoiled by the actions during the rescue. We had barely started when a few Vietnamese men approached ready armed with paintbrushes. They must have gone to the ship’s stores and requested them, for now they took our paint-tins and started painting with two brushes each, one in each hand. We were somewhat bemused, not knowing whether to accept their help or demand that they returned to the hatchcover. But then a small group of little boys cautiously approached, unsure if they would be shouted at, but their curiosity had the better of them. As I painted, they watched me, all the time inching forward. As I paused to turn round and see who was behind me their little faces would crack into big wide smiles. And then one stretched out his arm pointing to the railing. I looked. The cheeky mite was telling me where I had missed a bit!! And then they were all pointing, all over the place to bits I had missed with my paintbrush! That day they followed me everywhere, only being summoned back to the hatchcover later by their anxious parents.
And that evening more of the cadets and crew came to sit on the hatchcover to talk, play and sing. Tomorrow we would arrive in Taiwan, not knowing what would happen to these people we were already so deeply attached to. Rumour had it we could end up taking them from Taiwan to Hong Kong or the Philippines. And it might take some time before a country would take them in.
That meant the white canvas screening, with plastic windows, that went around the swimming pool was lashed on top of the games net that enclosed No. 5 hatch. And there were spare winch covers, lifeboat covers, even the ship’s dinghy’s sail, tied haphazardly across the net too. It ended up as an untidy arrangement that gave puny protection from the elements. But fortunately the climate was warm and there was no rain. Even the tropical sun was weaker than usual letting us off with our miserable attempt to make a decent canopy.
Drinking water was made available in buckets, and extra drinking cups provided made out of cut down soft drink and beer cans. The ship simply didn't have enough eating and drinking utensils to go round. Most of the Vietnamese had lost their shoes in their escape and as the sun rose higher in the sky the steel deck began to heat up. Some fire hydrants on the deck were opened to allow salt water for washing, but also to cool the deck which was now painful for the Vietnamese to walk on in bare feet
Most of the Vietnamese lay, curled up under blankets on the bare steel hatch cover. Some were stirring, sitting up, looking about and a few made the short walk to and from the couple of toilets that were accessible from the deck. They seemed in a daze, exhausted and drained of life by their experience. And they were quiet, not even a noise from the children. Slowly they seemed to come to their senses as the ship’s catering staff came out with food. It was a strange mish-mash of food, our cooks prepared, unsure how to provide for so many of diverse cultures and different ages. Here was a ship equipped and provisioned to feed less than 50, but now had almost 400 mouths to feed. So at breakfast the cadets were surprised to find that the customary choice had gone, and in its place was one ‘hot’ course. Peering at the plate we could see potatoes, beans of various types, meat balls, rice, peas, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms all boiled into a red-brown stew. It was an unrecognisable meal that I’m sure has no name in a cookery book. As the stewards put the food on our plates, our reactions must have given our thoughts away! What’s this?! But actually to our energy sapped bodies it was good wholesome food and tasted better than it looked, and as the cook explained, it was the same as everyone got……….Vietnamese refugees and Wellpark crew alike.
That breakfast was the big one. It was the first proper meal the Vietnamese had had for at least four days. Already the ship’s whole supply of baked beans and oranges had disappeared at the first meal.
Outside the sun shone down on the ship. Now it rhythmically rolled gently on the swell as its bow cut through the sparkling waters at full speed. Out of sight of land, our heading was northerly towards Taiwan, but the crew were told that fact must remain secret and could not be divulged to the Vietnamese. There was the risk they might fear being repatriated to Vietnam or held in detention camps and trapped into a life worse than that they had fought to escape from. The Vietnamese were not known to us, and they outnumbered us seven to one. We could not discount the possibility they might wish to over-power us and take control of the ship.
That morning we set up a one-way system. The Vietnamese lined up the stairs on the starboard side of the ship and filed, one at a time, into a cabin set aside for medical checks. It had been discovered two of the Vietnamese were professional doctors and it was a priority to check everyone over after the trauma of their escape. Basic personal details such as name, sex, date of birth were recorded, before they were asked to carry on back down to the deck via the staircases on the port side of the ship. There were a few cases of measles and they were confined to the ship’s hospital, and a family which included their grandmother were accommodated in a more private part on the rear of the ship’s accommodation.
We were amazed to discover we had 343 ‘passengers’ on board, and as dribs and drabs of their journey before being rescued came out, we were incredulous that so many could have survived such a journey on a boat we seen for ourselves the night before was less than 70 feet long. It was hard to comprehend how they had come to be on that boat. From one cadet I would hear they started on three boats, but two sank and the survivors clambered on the remaining one – hence why it was so cramped. Another would say that they were at sea for three days without food and water. We had found them more than 120 miles from the nearest land. I had been told the boat’s steering had failed. From somewhere else I would hear they had been in concentration camps and that lots of other ships had passed them by. Apparently the Wellpark had spotted what was their last remaining flare. They had had to pay large amounts of gold to corrupt officials to be ‘allowed to escape’. As the cadets passed each other as they worked around the ship they exchanged information, so that as the day went on we had a better picture of who these people were and the terrible experience they had endured.
As we organised and arranged we spoke to the people, but only a few spoke English. Communication was hard but gradually their trepidation and fear dissipated and we began to see some smiles. To us they were all Vietnamese and when we asked one ‘Vietnamese’ to tell another to do something we could not understand why they could not do it. It took some time to appreciate the mix of Vietnamese and Chinese peoples on our ship.
But things improved fast, particularly when in the afternoon we erected screens of burlap around the ship’s small swimming pool. It was a less than perfect arrangement but it allowed everyone to wash and feel a little bit better in themselves.
That evening, after it had gone dark I heard that some of the cadets were out sitting on No.5 hatch amongst the Vietnamese. There they were, some sitting talking, others playing with children. And one had got his guitar out and a few had gathered around for a bit of a sing-song. It was a holiday camp-fire atmosphere, but without the camp-fire. It was a happy time, and I thought at the time it did a huge amount to lift the Vietnamese souls, and engender their trust in us.
Elsewhere the Captain was having to do a lot more thinking. He brought together a committee of Vietnamese leaders, six of them, each one an English speaker. It was essential that he had their co-operation to ensure their safety and security on Wellpark. They agreed on what would be expected of the refugees during their stay on the ship with particular emphasis on hygiene, sanitation, fire-risks and discipline amongst their people. A strict control over cleanliness was kept by both the working Committee of Wellpark’s Officers and the Vietnamese. With limited provisions on the ship, fresh water for drinking purposes would only be provided at 0900, 1300 and 1700 hours daily. Meal times were arranged for 0700, 1200 and 1700 hours. And a doctor’s surgery was set up twice daily 0900-1000 hours and 1600–1700 hours.
I hurriedly updated my letter to my parents that night, telling them the whole story as it had unfolded. Having retired to my bunk late, after joining in the sing-song on deck I was desperate for a few hours sleep, the first rest in 39 hours.
Life was a little more normal for us on the 3rd October, the second full day the Vietnamese were on board. We were still at sea, closing in on Kaohsiung, our next port of call. The day started with the Vietnamese mainly restricted to life on the hatchcover, away from the side railings of the ship. But as time moved on new friendships were being formed. Inevitably the Committee were meeting with the Captain to gain a better idea of their future. Some were working with the Captain acting as interpreters, and administering the personnel records. Elsewhere we already had the doctors helping out with medical aid where it was required. And some of the Vietnamese volunteered to contribute by working in the galley, helping to prepare food. Some Vietnamese who had an engineering background put themselves forward to help down in the ship’s engine room. And out on deck they were just as keen to help. I had just headed down the deck with a couple of other cadets and some brushes and tins of white paint. Our orders were to re-paint the railings where the paintwork had been damaged and spoiled by the actions during the rescue. We had barely started when a few Vietnamese men approached ready armed with paintbrushes. They must have gone to the ship’s stores and requested them, for now they took our paint-tins and started painting with two brushes each, one in each hand. We were somewhat bemused, not knowing whether to accept their help or demand that they returned to the hatchcover. But then a small group of little boys cautiously approached, unsure if they would be shouted at, but their curiosity had the better of them. As I painted, they watched me, all the time inching forward. As I paused to turn round and see who was behind me their little faces would crack into big wide smiles. And then one stretched out his arm pointing to the railing. I looked. The cheeky mite was telling me where I had missed a bit!! And then they were all pointing, all over the place to bits I had missed with my paintbrush! That day they followed me everywhere, only being summoned back to the hatchcover later by their anxious parents.
And that evening more of the cadets and crew came to sit on the hatchcover to talk, play and sing. Tomorrow we would arrive in Taiwan, not knowing what would happen to these people we were already so deeply attached to. Rumour had it we could end up taking them from Taiwan to Hong Kong or the Philippines. And it might take some time before a country would take them in.
Views: 25
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Comment by Angie Nguyen on July 21, 2008 at 6:33pm
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This is really good Mike! It must be exhausting for you to remember & recount small details. Very much appreciated! Your letters sent home to your parents in '78 were also well written. Your youthful sense of adventure, boyish cheekiness but also fear really shone through. Now you are writing with hindsight through a mature perspective.
This is excellent writing! I hope I've given you enough encouragment *smile*
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Just realised you are online at 1am like moi too?!
This is the only time I grab some time to myself & I've enjoying browsing this website. It's so emotional I must have used up a packet of tissues already!
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