In the foyer of the hotel I found a policeman in mufti, and arranged to walk with him to the Reuters office. It was OK at first, but as we approached the dark area around the cathedral we both became more and more apprehensive. Turning left, we walked down the middle of the road, hand in hand, to keep up each other's spirits We exhibited all the heroism of children in the dark. To any Vietcong agent, watching from the trees, I should say we must have looked too touching to kill. Early on the morning of 30 April, I went out of my hotel room to be greeted by a group of hysterical Koreans "The Americans have called off the evacuation!" said one. The group had been unable to get into the Embassy, had waited the whole night and had now given up.

Of all the nationalities to fear being stranded in Saigon, the Koreans had most reason. I went up to breakfast in the top-floor restaurant, and saw that there were still a few Jolly Green Giants landing on the Embassy, but that the group on the Alliance Française building appeared to have been abandoned. They were still standing there on the roof, packed tight on a set of steps. Looking up at the sky, they seemed to be taking part in some kind of religious ritual, waiting for a sign In the Brinks Building, the looting continued.

A lone mattress fell silently from a top-floor balcony.There was one other group at breakfast - an eccentric Frenchman with some Vietnamese children. The Frenchman was explaining to the waiter that there had been some binoculars available the night before, and he wanted to use them again. The waiter explained that the binoculars belonged to one of the hotel guests."That doesn't matter," said the Frenchman, "bring them to me." The waiter explained that the binoculars were probably in the guest's room."Well go and get them then!" said the Frenchman. It seemed extraordinary that the Frenchman could be so adamant, and the waiter so patient, under the circumstances.

I had orange juice and coffee, noting that the croissants were not fresh.Then I went to the American Embassy, where the looting had just begun. The typewriters were already on the streets outside, there was a stink of urine from where the crowd had spent the night, and several cars had been ripped apart. I did not bother to check what had happened to mine, but went straight into the Embassy with the looters.The place was packed, and in chaos Papers, files, brochures and reports were strewn around. I picked up one letter of application from a young Vietnamese student, who wished to become an Embassy interpreter. Some people gave me suspicious looks, as if I might be a member of the Embassy staff - I was, after all, the only one there with a white face - so I began to do a little looting myself, to show that I was entering into the spirit of the thing.