Memories of Operation Babylift

By Rob Barnhill, '75

I remember the first night of Operation Babylift as it was the beginning of my realization that I was not the center of everything. Prior to that night, I was the typical teenage boy at Clark interested only in sports, girls, and driving the jeep. Afterwards, I saw that people from all walks of life can come together for a common good and that no one is too good to help.

The night started when my Mom heard over AFRTS-Radio that there were aircraft arriving from Saigon with the orphans onboard. She found me scrounging through the refrigerator for an after practice snack and told me to “Get down there and help out.” 

I searched around for an excuse but nothing came to me fast enough, so the next thing I knew I was out the door thumbing a ride for the flightline (Jon had the jeep and a date that night).

When I arrived, it seemed that chaos ruled with vehicles running everywhere, people carrying children in their arms off the planes, and air police trying to direct traffic (having served 30 years in the military, I now know that is how we operate most of the time). As I was standing there, someone told me to get in the line and prepare to pick up a child. I was standing behind two moms talking about rumors of an aircraft crash and an airman complaining about having to work late.

Soon enough, I found myself being handed a 2 or 3 year old boy wearing nothing but a dirty rag around his waist. Not knowing what to do with him, I held him in my arms and followed the two ladies to the bus. On the ride to the high school gym, I looked at the boy for some form of identification but there was nothing to indicate a name, parent, or anything else.

I just called him Charlie. When we arrived at the gym, a medical officer did some sort of triage on Charlie (any physical damage, overt signs of diseases or malnutrition, or other problem) and they sent me to one section of the gym. Looking back at it, I guess they tried to sort of organize the gym by either age groups (infants, toddlers, and kids) or their need for care.

Well, Charlie and me continued down the line and picked up a few diapers, a blanket, a bottle of something, and a few snacks. As a teenage boy, the last time I touched a diaper was when they were still cloth and I was wearing it! Was I ever glad that someone helped me out on that one!

Charlie was cool as he had a few sips of water, a couple of the crackers, and then went straight to sleep. This gave me an opportunity to look around and see that the entire gym floor was now covered with hundreds of other Charlies and Robs. I didn’t really have too much to do since Charlie was still sleeping, so I asked the lady beside me to watch over him while I walked around for a bit.

While walking around, I talked to a few other kids my age before a man from my Dad’s squadron called me over to help him. His job was to walk around and distribute clean diapers and foodstuffs to those already in the gym. He said he needed to go back to work and told me to take over for him. So I spent the rest of the night pushing a grocery cart type thing around the gym passing out supplies. I OK’d it with the lady who had Charlie and said she would continue to watch over him while I did the supply job.

Initially, everyone was laid out in rows that allowed me to drive the cart around in a somewhat orderly fashion. However soon enough, the rows just became a mishmash of bodies so I ended up passing and throwing supplies like the vendors at a baseball game throwing hot dogs. 

Eventually, we were relieved by other volunteers and I made the short walk back to my house (one of the barns on the parade field) from the gym around sunup.

Though it has been 35 years, I can still clearly remember all that went on that night. I saw how hundreds of unknown individuals could offer their time and talents for the betterment of others. I saw how their kindness, generosity, and care combined with support from a community could help.

Over the years, I often think back of that night wondering whatever became of Charlie, but I really wonder what could have become of me had I not had that experience also. After that night, I learned that there was more to life than just me.

Photo: Rob and his eldest grandson, Calvin, in 2010.

Note: Lt. Col. William Willis, Commander of Flight Operations (father of Bill, Barry ’75, Mark ’78 and Karen) and Med Tech T/Sgt Denning Johnson (father of Sandra '76), along with many others, lost their lives in the crash of the C-5A during Operation Babylift.