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Part of U.S. Students Want To Stay In Viet

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U.S. STUDENTS WANT TO STAY IN VIET
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By Beverly Deepe
A Special Correspondent

SAIGON.

For perhaps the first time in history, American teenagers were unhappy that it was the last day of school.
At 11 a. m . yesterday the faculty of the American
Community School, for 800 children of American service
men and officials, announced that the school would be
closed two hours later-pe1manently.
The announcement was made following a decision of
President Johnson to withdraw 1,819 American dependents
in South Viet Nam after he had ordered retaliatory raids
on Notth Viet Nam. The first group of 91 will leave today
via commercial air lines-40 for the United States from
Saigon and 51 from Hue for Hong Kong.
As the dependents in Viet Nam's provinces yesterday
were hastily rounded up and sent to Saigon, American
teenagers told their reactions. Most reactions were against
evacuation.
Katherine Stevens Westmoreland, 16-year-old daughter of Gen . and Mrs. William C. Westmoreland, commander
of the American Military Assistance Command, shook her
chestnut bobbed hair defiantly, pounded her fist and
emphasized:
"Tell them we don't want to go . If you are a newspaper reporter tell them we don't want to go. We even
cried this morning about leaving. We want to stay in Viet
Nam with our friends."
Dozens of her classmates clustered around her on the
winding steel stairs of the American Community School
11,nd joined in unison: "We don't want to go."
A boy turned to Miss Westmoreland- accusingly and
said it was her father's fault that they had to leave.
"It is not my father's fault," sharply replied Stevie.
"It's the fault of Lynda Bird's father, not mine."
As other classmates came down the stairs from classrooms, she polled them, asking : "Do you want to go?"
A blonde in a blue blouse and skirt chirped condescendingly: "I will not be leavir,g anyway. I'm Australian."
Most of Stevie's classmates said they dld not want
to go.
"None of us is scared," Stevie said. "Thr mothers are
crying because they don't want to leavf' their husbands,

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and we are crying because we do not want to leave Viet
Nam."
As she scraped her brown loafers across the stairs,
she was asked why the families were being sent out.
"Because the President said so," she replied, laugh·
ing. "I suppose we will go to Hawaii so we can see daddy
once in a while."
"Then you can be a surfer," replied a classmate, who
regretted leaving his riding horse.
A woman principal came down the corridor and
shouted: "You students should be in the classroom. I
cannot understand why you are not studying."
"It's the last day of school," a boy whispered. "They
can't do anything to us now."
An American army sergeant looked disgusted as he
watched the teenagers, fingering his carbine which he was
to use to protect them if necessary. He said, "I'll Jet you
stay here for my job if you'll give me your seat on the
plane. I want to get out of here."
"You are supposed to fight the VC (Viet Cong Communist guerrillas>," the boy retorted.
"I have enough trouble fighting my company commander," the sergeant said, sauntering down the corridor,
through which an hour later the American 'school children
walked for the last time.