there, helplessly. These apprehensive, innocent kids do not know what has happened to them, nor why they have been put in the boat to never see their home again. Perhaps the assurance of having a delicious American hamburger after these struggles could lighten them? A child interminably in tears asks her mother, "When are we going home?" And nothing is as painful than to realize that they do not have a home. The communists have taken theirs. After weeks, the trip has undermined everyone's health. Even their clothes are wet, and they have had to sleep through the coldest nights. Their spirits and strength are greatly diminished. Why is freedom so hard to find? If it is not in the vast ocean, then where is it?

At last, after exhausting days and nights hopelessly waiting for a miracle, the boat finally arrives at Kokra Island in the Thailand Gulf, and three sailboats approach welcoming the immigrants. People scream in overwhelming happiness, and children rush towards the deck hoping to fill their stomachs after days without food. Suddenly, their future evaporates the moment they see the gleam of sharp knives advancing towards them. In a matter of seconds the tragic little boat, which has been half-eaten up by storms, deformed by hunger, is now surrounded by sea pirates. They ransack the ship, and rob the escapees; men are clubbed, knifed, and thrown into the sea; women raped and tortured with savageness beyond imagination. After that, they tie the escape boat to their own and pull away, running to maximum speed and making abrupt turns to drown the people inside. Only one

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