PALACE DOWNFALL - ROYAL DEATHS

Buddhist stupas and memorials in the royal palace

I'm continuing my visit to the Phnom Penh's royal palace. This luxurious compound was best known as the home of King Sihanouk, Cambodia's most famous monarch.

Passing through a palace gateway, my view is filled with a whole new courtyard filled with memorials and Buddhist structures. Interspersed between carefully manicured trees, are numerous pagodas, Buddhist temples and shrines. At a few of them, Cambodians and monks in bright orange robes are praying. 

At the center of this peaceful courtyard, is the silver pagoda. This houses numerous statues of Buddha, made not only of silver, but also gold. Some are encrusted with diamonds. It’s a small miracle that these weren’t looted by the Khmer Rouge when they took over the palace; these must have been hidden away during those dark years. Many other treasures were taken away by them though. 

Controversial ex-King Sihanouk (photo: Wikipedia)

Some of these memorial stupas, are for deceased royalty, but the final resting places for many of Sihanouk’s own royal family remain unknown to this day. That was due to the King's complicated, and failed, relationship with the communist Khmer Rouge. 

It was Sihanouk who years back, coined the term ‘Khmer Rouge’, which meant ‘Red Khmers’. Nobody could have known then, that the Khmer Rouge would eventually become the most murderous communists in world history.

Way back in the 1960's, the communist movement that grew in neighboring Vietnam crossed the border into Sihanouk’s own kingdom. As the US war in Vietnam escalated, Sihanouk publicly declared Cambodia to be neutral in that conflict. Meanwhile, he did little to stop the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army, who had almost free range of Cambodia’s eastern provinces, moving troops and arms down the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Sihanouk's refusal to confront the Vietnamese communists, greatly frustrated the US government who were fighting them at the time.

While Cambodia stayed out of the Vietnam conflict, Khmer communists began to appear on the scene. In those early years, they didn’t pose a serious threat to the country, and the king and his security forces fought to keep them down. Sihanouk was far more popular with the people than the communists, who brought with them some strange foreign political ideology imported from Vietnam and China. 

Gardens surround the royal memorials

As the wars raged next door in Vietnam and Laos, Sihanouk turned away from politics and began to spend his time on another occupation: film making! He became a movie director, making movies in Cambodia. He also took a major interest in jazz music. Given the growing crisis in Cambodia, Sihanouk was appearing increasingly out of touch with what was happening within his own nation’s borders. 

Finally in 1970, while Sihanouk was out of the country, he was ousted in a coup. The putch was led by a general named Lon Nol, amid rumors of American involvement.

Sihanouk stayed in exile, where the monarch made another move that few would have expected.

The king allied himself with the Khmer Rouge! Joining his former enemies, Sihanouk soon made radio broadcasts urging his subjects to also join up with the radical communist rebels.

If there was any American involvement in the coup which had forced out Sihanouk, it had backfired. Thousands of Khmer men from all across Cambodia left for the countryside to join the rebellion. These young men new little about communism; they had joined the KR to fight for their king.

Later after the Khmer Rouge victory, Sihanouk was declared head of state. Still in exile in China, he begged the Khmer Rouge leadership to allow him to return to Phnom Penh. The KR leaders eventually allowed it, but Sihanouk would soon regret coming back at all.

Palace murals were ruined by weathering and neglect

The king became a prisoner right here, in his own palace. Stripped of all power, he was still technically head of state, but he was only a figurehead. The Khmer Rouge central committee held all the power. Sihanouk had been used by the Khmer Rouge, and now he was powerless to help his people, or himself. 

Ending his life of privilege, the KR took away all of his royal servants. His wife and son Sihamoni had to take over the cooking and cleaning of the palace residence. The former queen and humbled prince, were now their own housekeepers.

Many still wonder why Sihanouk made such a foolish political move. When he was still Prime Minister, his security forces had killed more than 1,500 Khmer Rouge. Did he really think that the KR leaders would forgive him, trust him, and make him a full partner? Was it arrogance, or was it just plain stupidity? Like so many men who who were hungry for power, Sihanouk had tried to hang onto power for too long.

Many palace buildings are restored

Once the Khmer Rouge won power, they went to work eliminating their remaining rivals. So they executed many Khmer princes and princesses - Sihanouk's own relatives. They would have killed King Sihanouk as well. But due to pressure from their main patrons, the Chinese government, the KR never went through with it.

As I'm about to leave the palace, I pass a traditional Khmer percussion band, playing drums, gongs, and xylophone-like instruments. Given the luxurious buildings I’ve just seen, I can’t help but notice the immense contrast to the world outside. The king and the rest of the elite continue to live in luxury, while the people of Cambodia remain among the poorest in Asia.

Outside the palace walls are two of the King’s royal guards, standing attentively at yellow guard shacks. I’m surprised at their uniform though. They wear fancy white dress coats, with old American style helmets, also painted white. Their trousers are blue, and they wear US style combat boots. I hold back a snicker as I notice that the coat on one guard, looks to be at least two sizes too big for him.

Both sentinels stand guard holding old American M-16s, with fixed bayonets. Neither have ammunition clips in their rifles. If this old palace is ever attacked again, the best these two could do is try to stab someone! It’s a good metaphor for the present monarchy itself. These days, kings in Cambodia have no real political power. Although impressive looking, they are outdated.

Palace royal guards, with unloaded weapons

When the communist years ended and the monarchy was revived in the 1990's, Sihanouk was declared king once again. However by that time, the old monarch was more of an adviser than power player. His days at the peak of Khmer power were long over. A democratic election, and later a coup, would determine the country’s real leadership.

In 2004, after being in and out of the Cambodian political scene for most of his life, the old king did the unexpected again. 

He abdicated! 

To succeed him, his son the prince was chosen, the present King Sihamoni. The new king had been an ambassador, and a dance teacher in Europe. 

Sihanouk finally died in 2012 at the ripe old age of 89. Despite his failures, many Khmers remained faithful to him to the end. Others despised him for leading the country into death and destruction under the Khmer Rouge. 

He remains the most controversial political figure in Cambodia's history. 

BATTLE ZONE REMAINS

How does this guy keep from tipping over?

The Densavan bus station isn’t much by western standards. It's just a dirt lot surrounded by ramshackle restaurants. But this station is my only way out of town. The next rickety bus won't leave for for an hour, so I look for a car to take me deeper into Laos. Finding none, I locate the next best thing: a pickup truck. I agree on a fare with the driver, and his grey haired friend hops into the back to come along for the ride. (I learn more of this mysterious passenger later.) Soon we’re headed west on Highway 9.
 
The greenery scenery is amazing in this part of Laos, with banana and palm trees dotting the landscape. I’d heard this region was rugged, but the topography isn’t very mountainous, its more like rolling hills. Cruising the countryside, we pass five slow moving motorbikes packed with bananas! These banana bikes are so heavily loaded, it seems difficult for them to stay balanced. I’m surprised they don’t blow a tire from all the weight they’re carrying.

After passing an old water filled bomb crater, we slow for road construction. A backhoe is digging into a hill to make a highway drainage ditch. After the earthmover dumps its load, two barefoot boys lurking nearby jump right onto the fresh dirt piles. Each boy carries a primitive metal detector in one hand, and a probe in the other. They sweep the detectors back and forth over the newly disturbed earth, looking for very dangerous buried treasure. 


What they are seeking, is bomb shrapnel from old American air raids. Although this road is now a paved roadway, this stretch of Highway 9 used to be a major transport

Laotian boy searches for bomb shrapnel with a metal detector

route along the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

According to United States Air Force bombing data, there were more than 500,000 bombing missions over Laos during the Vietnam War, and the heaviest concentration of bombing was here in the southeast. That left tons of old bomb shrapnel scattered across the countryside. This region of Laos is so dirt poor, that selling scrap metal from the war became one of the few jobs available here besides farming. Since this is so dangerous, it’s illegal to dig for scrap metal in most parts of Laos, but enforcement is lax. Children like these sometimes find unexploded ordinance as they search for shrapnel, and occasionally the old bombs explode. It’s a very hazardous occupation.

In Laos, scrap metal sells for the equivalent of about US $ 0.12 per pound. A cheap metal detector can be bought for only 100,000 kip (US $11), so some kids get a loan to buy a metal detector, and pay it off with the scrap they find in the first couple of weeks. That is, if they don’t get blown up first.
 
Leaving the diggers we get back up to speed, and I begin seeing local dwellings, along with hill tribe folk wearing dark traditional clothing. Like their breathren

A hill tribe house on stilts

in the Vietnamese highlands, most hill tribe houses are on stilts. Some are little more than shacks, and many poverty stricken villages away from the highway lack electricity. Since Laos is landlocked and mountainous, many primitive Laotian communities remained isolated from the outside world for centuries. With so many ethnic groups and different languages here, the idea of Laos as a country with its present borders didn’t really come about until the French colonists arrived. In some parts of Laos, slavery still existed even into the 20th century. Laos as we know it today is a relatively recent creation.

Like homes in Densavan, rooftops along Highway 9 are corrugated metal, or traditional thatch. Some hill tribe villages still bear evidence from those bombings decades ago. Rooftops can still be seen today, bizarrely decorated with tail fins from old US bombs. Their superstition was that these adornments would protect their homes from aerial attack. Back when the US were bombing the Ho Chi Minh Trail daily, there were few targeting restrictions around here. Technology was not as advanced as they are today, so there were numerous targeting errors. Since North Vietnamese convoys were usually hidden under camouflage, it was sometimes the hill tribe villages out in the open that were targeted. The resulting destruction for the hill tribes was catastrophic.
 

Fire along Highway 9

Continuing down the highway, I see black, billowing smoke ahead. Driving closer, I see a fire burning near the road. Flames shoot 10 feet in the air from a bonfire of burning brush. This is an annual occurrence in southeast Laos, as farmers clear land for agriculture. But this is not without its hazards. As families grow, and new land is cleared for farming, rural farmers occasionally strike buried unexploded bombs with plows or hand tools. When they accidentally strike a live round, the result is injuries or fatalities. This left many hill tribe farmers afraid to clear new fields for agriculture. The presence of buried unexploded ordinance has seriously hindered the post-war recovery of Laos.

We finally reach my destination, the town of Ban Dong. As towns go, it’s not very developed. A large pig wanders down the highway, and a group of goats scatter as my truck passes. Despite the livestock on the loose, this is one of the district's larger towns. Almost everything I see was built after the war’s end. During the bombing years, every building in town was blasted into oblivion. Ban Dong is now reborn as a settlement of single story homes, a mere blip on Highway 9.

My driver pulls into a local café, with a makeshift gas station out front. I chuckle at the primitive gas pump; an old style hand operated pump , much like US gas pumps of the 1920’s. Just across the street, an old vehicle looks even more out of place. Lying just up the hill, is an American made M-41 tank! The rusty old behemoth sits just beyond a fence, near a government building under construction.

Old US made M-41 tank, left in Ban Dong after battle in 1971

The gate isn’t locked, and nobody's around, so my little entourage and I go inside. Approaching the rusty hulk, I carefully climb up on the tank, taking care not to get burned. The tank's steel surface is burning to the touch from sunlight. You could easily cook an egg on the scorching hot metal of this tank. It must have been a very hot, dangerous life for tank crewmen back during the war. Since armored vehicles drew a lot of enemy fire, tank crews had a casualty rate even higher than the infantry.

Looking on the side of the metal monster, I see it wasn’t left here due to mechanical breakdown. This tank took an armor piercing communist round right in the side. One flank of the tank has twisted steel where the treads used to be. This field in the middle of nowhere, was the site of a major battle in Laos back in 1971. The military called this campaign, ‘Operation Lam Son 719’.
 
In 1971 the US military was reducing its ground forces in Vietnam, hoping to make the ARVN (South Vietnam Army) self-sufficient. Trying to maintain pressure on the North Vietnamese, the ARVN crossed from Vietnam into Laos to attack the Ho Chi Minh Trail. ARVN troops and armored columns penetrated deep into Laos, with the US providing air support. The ARVN drove all the way here to Ban Dong, where they quickly built a fire support base. Communist spies may have tipped off the NVA that they were coming, because the plan soon unraveled.

Since the NVA were already here in Laos, they had tanks of their own, plus thousands of ground troops. They attacked the ARVN’s fire support bases, including here in Ban Dong. As happened time and again during the Vietnam War, the ARVN had to be rescued by the US military. They evacuated ARVN troops by air, and bombed the NVA as ARVN units retreated. The surviving ARVN crossed back into Vietnam, where I had crossed into Laos east of here. The invasion failed to route the NVA. From then on, the communists controlled the Ho Chi Minh Trail until the war's end. 

USSR made anti-aircraft gun, with barrels from captured artillery to the right

5,000 ARVN were killed around these hills, and the NVA probably lost more. 200 Americans were dead or missing, plus the US/ARVN side lost many helicopters and armored vehicles. In their hasty retreat, the ARVN left their damaged tanks and jeeps behind in this Band Dong field. Nearly all of them were cut up and sold for scrap by the desperately poor locals after the war. Of all those vehicles left here abandoned, only this gutted tank remains. The hatch covers and tank treads are long gone, along with most of the engine.
 
Hopping off the tank, I approach a pile of metal tubes lying in the field. Drawing closer, I find they aren’t tubes at all, they are the barrels of eight old US made howitzers, all lined up in a row. These were also captured by the NVA when the ARVN troops left their artillery behind.

Nearby an old Soviet made anti-aircraft gun points skyward, never to fire at American aircraft again. An old artillery round is sticking out of the barrel, left by some jokester. At the Russian gun's base, are disarmed US dud bombs. There are

Old US bombs, duds dropped on Laos during the war

literally tons of steel here, 250 lb, 500 lb, and 750 lb bombs lie together, jumbled into a military scrap heap. Green weeds grow between the rusted brown bombs. Yellow butterflies flit about over this now peaceful field.

Leaving this quiet compound, I exit the gate, and head for the the café across the street. I’m joined by the two Laotians who brought me here, and it turns out that the grey haired gent who sat in the flat bed speaks some English. As I drink a soda, I learn his story.

His name is Vanh, and he says he owns a small trading shop. His English is limited, but enthusiastic nonetheless. He practices with me energetically. “Hello! How do you do? Very well, thank you!” Vanh  speaks to me with an intentionally comic energy, and I respond laughing.

In turn, he teaches me some Laotian. “Sabadee!” Vanh says. I’ve already learned that means 'hello'. “Kop Chai!” he says. That means, ‘thank you’. 

As we chat, I'm shocked to learn that

US made weapons in Vientiane museum captured from ARVN troops at battle of Lam Son 719

decades ago, Vanh was also a Pathet Lao soldier! Pathet Lao means, ‘Land of the Lao’, and back during the war years it was the communist insurgent group fighting the Royal Laotian Government, America’s ally at the time. 

Through broken English and sign languge, I gather that back in Vanh’s soldier days, he was based further south in Laos during the war. He wasn’t here in Ban Dong, when the fighting raged in 1971. Since the ARVN and US forces attacked the Ho Chi Minh Trail used by the North Vietnamese Army, the Pathet Lao were happy to let the NVA do the dirty work for them.

Since I already have a driver and I’m not paying Vanh, I’m curious as to why he's tagging along with me today. Since he's an Ex-Pathet Lao, I wonder, was he sent along to spy on me? 

My presence here may have raised some eyebrows. There are few lone foreigners that stop in this remote corner of Laos, and even fewer are American.

We finish our drinks, and climb back into the truck. There isn’t much more to see in this poor rural place, and I leave Ban Dong to continue my journey. There is much more for me to do farther to the north, in the Laotian capital of Vientiane.

HIKING THE HO CHI MINH TRAIL

Laotian homes on stilts in the border town of Densavan

As I approach the Laotian border village of Densavan on foot, I'm getting my first views of this mysterious country. Ahead are the rolling mountains of Southeast Laos, and I quickly notice the difference between here and Lao Bao, the border town on the Vietnamese side. Vietnam is far more developed and affluent, since the Vietnamese economy has been booming for years. But crossing a bridge into Densavan, I find the opposite. Local children play and splash about, in muddy water below the bridge. Some village houses here are basically shacks, with rooftops of corrugated metal. Other homes are even less durable, with thatched rooftops.

Laos is one of the world’s poorest countries. Today the total population is only 6 million. Although  double what it was back during the Vietnam War, it still has the lowest population density in all of Southeast Asia. The low numbers mean Laos continues to have mountain ranges and jungles that remain largely uninhabited, giving it some of Asia’s most beautiful scenery. Lack of development means that Laos retains a simple Asian

Laotian children play in a muddy river

charm that its neighbors have long since lost. It remains quiet, conservative, and laid back.

The highway running through town is Densavan’s main street, and the only paved road. A long pile of brown dirt lines one side of the roadway, where a dozen Laotian Army soldiers in camouflage fatigues are digging a ditch. They lack heavy equipment, using only shovels and hand tools. Apparently in Laos they don’t mind using their military for public works.

I reach the business strip of Densavan, which compared to the poor outskirts, is relatively developed. The village’s center has a newer feel to it, since every building I see was built after the Vietnam War ended. A sign posted on a nearby business reads, “Hero Trading Import-Export Ltd”. As befits a border town, the local economy is driven by trading.

I find a small café, have a seat, and down a bottle of green tea. After locking up my baggage, I entrust the café proprietor to keep an eye on it for me. Then I head out of the village on foot. Trekking out of Densavan, the dirt road I’m on becomes a narrow path, and continues out into the jungle. I’m mindful that elephants and tigers still roam southern Laos, but they mainly inhabit remote areas, few live close to villages. Still, I won’t wander too far from town. I don’t want to become tiger bait. 

Reaching the tree line, I come across a group of army tents, and bright blue tarps built into makeshift shelters. This isn’t exactly a campground, I’ve found a migrant camp for seasonal laborers. A few of their wheelbarrows were left behind, along with a few of their wives and children. I get curious looks as I walk through, and I continue past them into the jungle. 

Walking down a narrow path, I find an old bomb crater. Grass and weeds grow in it, along with a tree. When this crater was first created, it was far deeper than it is now, but erosion has filled in the depression to some degree. But a deep, perfectly round hole remains. It’s definitely a bomb crater from the war years.

Continuing down the path I find another bomb crater, followed by many more. There must have been a heavy bombing attack that hit this area back during the war. I take care not to leave the path, in case there are any old unexploded bombs still around. Strangely, one of the bomb craters I come across is being put to use. It appears that the camp migrants have turned it into a garbage dump!

The path eventually dead ends into the brown waters of the Se Pon River, where a couple canoes are pulled up on the riverbank. This river flows westward towards the mountains. Just down river is the land I’ve just left: Vietnam. Now I know why the bomb craters are here. The roads and trails that I’ve walked on today, were once part of The Ho Chi Minh Trail.

A tree grows in the center of a bomb crater from the war years

An ever changing network of roads, paths, and even rivers, the Ho Chi Minh Trail was the lifeline and supply route for the North Vietnamese Army and Viet Cong in South Vietnam. Back then southeastern Laos was even less populated now, and the border was mostly unguarded. This allowed the communists to bring troops and supplies from North Vietnam across the border into Laos, and then south through these jungles. They were then able to infiltrate South Vietnam at many different crossing points, bypassing US bases. This was far less dangerous for the NVA, than if they tried to slip directly across the heavily fortified Demilitarized Zone. Still, it wasn’t easy. Besides enduring constant bombings, much of the Ho Chi Minh Trail was on steep dirt jungle paths through mountainous terrain, where trucks couldn’t be used. The Vietnamese soldiers had a simple solution to this logistical problem: bicycles.

Back in Vietnam, I recall seing a xe dap tho, or pack bike, in a museum. This was a standard bicycle, packed up with ammunition, or weapons, or rice. It had a bamboo pole lashed to the handlebars, making it easier for a foot soldier to push and steer with all the extra weight. Then loaded with 300 pounds of supplies, they sent it down the Ho Chi Minh Trail. These bikes were pushed along narrow mountain trails covered by jungle canopy, remaining totally unseen from the air. It was slower than trucks, and took a lot more sweat, but it kept the pipeline open. No matter how much the US military bombed the Ho Chi Minh trail, they couldn’t hit all the convoys and routes, and war material continued heading south.

During the war years it took as long as two months for an NVA soldier to ride and walk from Hanoi, all the way down the Ho Chi Minh Trail, through Laos and Cambodia, before he finally crossed back into Vietnam near the Saigon region. When I hopped on a jet from Hanoi to Saigon, the same trip only took me two hours!

Laotian soldiers dig a ditch in Densavan

The presence of all those NVA soldiers on Laotian soil back then was never supposed to happen. In 1963, an agreement signed in Geneva by Vietnam and the USA attempted to guarantee Laotian neutrality, prohibiting foreign troops on Laos. The North Vietnamese quickly disregarded this agreement, sending the NVA into Laos to build the Ho Chi Minh Trail. They also sent troops to fight alongside the Pathet Lao, a smaller communist force aiming to overthrow the Laotian government.

The US military was not so brazenly disregarding the Geneva Agreement, so the American ground troops fighting in Laos were never large in number. In these parts they were usually special forces soldiers, small groups of tough commando types that did secret raids to attack or disrupt the Ho Chi Minh Trail. There were Green Beret teams, who fought alongside their Montagnards allies. There were also LRRP units, like my buddy Kenny, the former Marine. Although Kenny’s missions were secret at the time, he did most of his fighting in this remote region of southeast Laos. They called in air strikes on NVA convoys and spied on the Ho Chi Minh Trail. When detected, they fought their way out.

Since Kenny had returned to live in Southeast Asia years ago, I once asked him if he had ever returned to Laos. He hadn’t, and wouldn’t give me a straight answer as to why. I suppose he still has too many bad memories from the war in Laos, for him to ever come back.

Despite constant military operations here in Laos by both Vietnamese and Americans, due to the Geneva agreement, neither side admitted their involvement of ground troops publicly. Since the US government was already facing anti-war protests for their involvement in Vietnam, they sought to downplay, and even hide, their role in Laos. So fighting in Laos became known as a ‘secret war’.

The Se Pon River, once used to infiltrate weapons and troops into South Vietnam

Besides using jungle trails, the North Vietnamese also used rivers for smuggling weapons, including the Se Pon River before me. Just downriver from where I’m standing, the Se Pon becomes the border with Vietnam. Back then they took canoes like those on the river bank, filled them full of weapons, and floated them across the river to their waiting comrades under cover of night.

Hoping to keep NVA troops and supplies from entering Vietnam, the main use of US military might in Laos would be for the air war. 'Victory through air power', meant massive aerial bombing on the Ho Chi Minh Trail. That was how all these deep bomb craters ended up here, scattered all around me. Since the USA had the world’s best jets and bombers, it sounded like a great idea. But this strategy only delayed the communists, and did not bring about victory.

After the war, the US military made public their data kept on how much explosive tonnage they had dropped on Laos from aircraft. This little country had been bombed by American aircraft flown from South Vietnam, from Thailand, and from Navy aircraft flown in from the South China Sea. Laos was even hit by B-52 bombers that had flown here all the way from Guam. With the war lasting longer than anyone anticipated, the amount of bombs dropped onto Laos was devastating. The tonnage of bombs the US dropped on Laos, was greater than the total tonnage dropped on all of Europe during World War II!

The total amount of bombs dropped from 1965 – 1973 was astounding: 1.36 million metric tons of explosives dropped on Laos. That made for a half metric ton of explosives, for every single person living in Laos at the time. Laos holds the unfortunate record, of being the most heavily bombed country in world history.

Since I have much more to see of Laos, I turn from the craters and the river and head back towards town. Crossing back through the encampment, a group of village children stare at me as I walk by. “Sabadee!” (Hello!) they call out to me.

“Sabadee!” I say back to them, and they smile. Once I’m back on the dirt road, they follow behind me, but from a distance. When I turn towards them, they all run away laughing. I continue walking, and soon they are following behind me again. They must be wondering why this giant white foreigner came walking through their remote little village. I give them a final wave, and head back to Densavan.

SURVIVAL IN NORTH VIETNAM'S WAR TUNNELS

Old Vietnamese soldier sits outside tunnel entrance

Deep in the dark war tunnels, below the village

I’m down in a dark tunnel. I've already been down in the Cu Chi tunnels, where Viet Cong guerillas had fought tough American 'tunnel rats' back during the war. But this place is different. I'm now in what used to be North Vietnam.

It’s very damp down here, and the air is humid. As I descend deeper inside, darkness envelops me. I round a corner, where a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling helps illuminate the way. In the dim light, I can make out cave walls that are a mixture of brownish soil and whitish chalk.

Fortunately, I don’t have to crawl around on my hands and knees this time, this passageway is reasonably spacious. But I'm forced to walk along bent over like a hunchback. This tunnel wasn’t made for tall Americans like me, but for shorter Vietnamese.

I’m beneath the village of Vinh Moc, and until the country became divided by the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), this was just a quiet fishing and farming village in central Vietnam. When the country was split in two, that left Vinh Moc located just to the north of the DMZ in North Vietnam. For Vinh Moc’s villagers, the quiet coastal life that they had known was over. Overnight, they found themselves on the front line of Vietnam’s most devastating war.

Frieze depicts wartime Vinh Moc, both above and below ground

Much as the Gio Linh Firebase I had seen on the opposite side of the DMZ was a target of communist artillery, this village on the northern side was bombed even more intensely by US firepower. Since Vinh Moc was a coastal community held by the North Vietnamese Army, the NVA set up their heavy guns here, making the town a target of  US bombing from artillery, from the air, and even from the sea by heavy guns of the U.S. Navy. With this trio of destruction, the villagers of Vinh Moc soon found themselves living in one of the most heavily bombed villages in the war. Just about every building in the community was destroyed, including the village church.

As casualties mounted, many villagers fled to escape the shelling of the 1960’s, but some families stayed. With so many bombing attacks hitting the village so frequently, there was only one place where the villagers could find safety, and that was deep underground. Work quickly began on tunnels for shelter, and on trenches connecting houses to tunnel entrances.

Huge bomb crater from the war in Vinh Moc

As I walk stooped over through the dimly lit tunnels, my head bumps a crossbeam. Some stretches have wooden beams and supports lining the walls and ceiling, giving the appearance of an old gold mine. It’s an impressive network. These tunnels are solid, and far more spacious than those that I crawled through before in Cu Chi outside of Saigon. Those tunnels in the south were very narrow, built tight to discourage the taller and fatter Americans from entering. Since Vinh Moc lies within North Vietnam, they didn’t have to worry about American tunnel rats pursuing them down in these caves. These tunnels were built much taller and wider, to accommodate all of the village families.

Above ground many old bomb craters are still scattered around the tunnel entrances, but these tunnels were deep enough to protect them from incoming artillery. Multiple entrances allowed multiple means of escape. That way if a direct hit caused an entrance to cave in, the villagers were not left trapped inside.

 

The maternity room; 17 babies were born in the tunnels

There were three layers of tunnels, with the deepest going down to a very safe 23 meters. I’d like to see the lowest levels, but they have been closed off. Perhaps they are no longer maintained.

As I walk along, I encounter side rooms dug into tunnel walls. There are still beds inside, made of bamboo. These spaces were made to shelter individual families, who could sleep down here in safety. During long attacks, the villagers stayed down here for days at a time. For some villagers, there lives began down here.

“My father born in tunnel,” said Le, a local teenager who sells drinks outside. As the war dragged on, 17 of Vin Moc’s babies were born underground as the bombs fell above them on the surface. There was a makeshift hospital in one room, but conditions were far from sterile. Other infants born in these difficult and stressful circumstances didn’t survive.

There were rooms down here for cooking, for meetings, and storage for NVA supplies and ammunition. What they didn’t have room for, was an underground school.

Some entrances nearly reach the South China Sea coast

“No school (back then,)” Le told me. After the schoolhouse was destroyed, Le’s father grew up without an education. “Many men no have job now,” Le explained. The lack of schooling in their youth, made it difficult for Vinh Moc’s men to find a job in Vietnam’s economy of today. Le told me her father has to get by now with occasional work as a fisherman. 

I see daylight ahead, and follow it to a tunnel exit. As I walk out the opening, I have to duck under overhanging weeds. This entrance is surrounded by ferns and other overgrowth. After walking a few steps down the path, the brush opens up, and reveals a beach. I had no idea that the tunnels were located so close to the coast; the surf of the South China Sea is only steps in front of me. Then I turn around, and look back at the tunnel entrance. I can’t even see it! This entrance was well placed. Even with no war going on today, the entrance is still perfectly camouflaged by nature itself.

As I finish exploring, I leave the tunnel network, and find myself back in the village center.  I rub my back, pleased to be able to stand fully erect again.

Steps away from the tunnel entrance, it's nearly invisible

 Before I depart, I encounter a sight common in Vinh Moc during the war years. I happen upon a group of people wearing the military uniforms of the North Vietnamese Army. They are all older Vietnamese women, and most are wearing medals on their plain khaki clothing. I quickly realize that these ladies are all war veterans.

A sign on their bus translates as, “Association of Pioneer Youth Visiting The Old Battlefields.” These veteran women had a hazardous job. In their younger days as teenagers, these ‘volunteers’ had the difficult job of manually building and maintaining the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

As I look on, some foreign tourists approach to pose with the women for photos. The lady vets are all smiles. Many of them are grandmothers now, and they’re surprised at this kind of attention from foreigners. The contrast in size is obvious. Posing next to the taller Europeans, many of the Vietnamese ladies are not even five feet tall. It’s hard to imagine that this group of short, smiling older women are war vets. But they were there. They dug trenches, repaired the roads, and ran for cover from air raids. When jets destroyed the Ho Chi Minh Trail, they went right back out to work, to fix the roads all over again.

Lady war veterans from North Vietnam; they worked to build the Ho Chi Minh Trail

I remember the Godmother that I meet back in Saigon, who in her younger years wasn’t even 18 when as a young Viet Cong, she took on the US Army. She barely survived. I wonder how many of these ‘Pioneer Youth’ were killed or wounded as they carried out their dangerous duty.

Back in the 1960’s, American women were marching in the streets to protest for women’s rights. At the same time, many Vietnamese women here were marching off to war. Communists aren’t known for personal freedoms or liberty, but they did give their women a right that American women were mostly denied: the right to die in a war. The communists had female soldiers out in the line of fire, decades before the US military did.

Back in World War II, America had 'Rosie the Riveter', who donned coveralls, and went off to work to build planes, ships and tanks.

In Vietnam they had 'Diu the Digger', who put her hair up in a bun, marched off into the jungle, and helped build the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

AMERICAN WAR VET IN VIETNAM TODAY

View from Marble Mountain on coast near Danang. Kenny's old Marine base was located down this road.

When I first met Kenny in Vietnam, I never would have thought that this easygoing American had a rough and dangerous past. His voice is pleasant and calm. He’s a man that seems comfortable with himself, and with his current surroundings in Vietnam. He’s big, tall, and in great physical shape. You wouldn’t think that he’s 61 years old. His name fits his personality well. it’s not Kenneth, or Ken, it’s Kenny. He’s a plain talking, friendly mid-westerner from Iowa with an eagle tattoo on his forearm.

An English teacher friend introduced us, and with Kenny’s easygoing demeanor, he was always good to chat with over a beer. It was during these chats that I learned about his military past.

Kenny is a former US Marine, who served as a medic with a Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol (LRRP) back in 1969. Nicknamed, ‘Lurps’, they were much like commandos, an elite unit that often fought behind enemy lines. Although he was based just south of Danang, Kenny spent much of his time in the field across the border in Laos. There he took part in dangerous reconnaissance missions along the Ho Chi Minh Trail, the infamous supply line of the communist forces. This was at a time when ‘officially’, there were no American soldiers fighting in Laos.

Sometimes his unit operated in jungle so dense, that there weren’t clearings big enough that would allow helicopters to land and take them out. On those missions, helicopters had to hoist his unit out of the jungle, lifting them above the forested canopy on the end of a long cable.

As a LRRP medic, Kenny had to be not just a fighter, but also a field doctor, treating the war wounds of many of his fallen comrades. Taking part in many dangerous missions, it wasn’t long before he was wounded himself. He saw the worst side of war. The Vietnam War left many strong men physically and emotionally scarred, including Kenny.

After he returned to the states, like many Vietnam veterans, Kenny faced a difficult life. He had a series of failed marriages. At one point, he was living out of a van. He basically went from being an elite soldier, to a hippie.

With his background as a medic, he knew a lot about drugs. After he left the military, he became a heroin addict. But Kenny’s tough. Over time he eventually overcame his heroin addiction. As he grew older, another challenge came along: throat cancer. Kenny beat that too.

These days Kenny is still affected by Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) from his war experiences. “I still have nightmares,” he once told me, “but not as much as I used to.” More than anything else, Kenny is a survivor.

When America’s soldiers finished their tour of duty in Vietnam, most left and never came back. Kenny is a Vietnam veteran who not only returned, but he now calls Southeast Asia home. He doesn’t keep a regular apartment. He spends a lot of time living in guest houses between Vietnam, Cambodia, and other countries in the region. He also speaks Vietnamese, not fluently, but well enough to get by.

For the most part, Kenny has come to terms with his past, and is proud of his military service back in the 60’s. “I’m still Semper Fi,” he says, a shortened marine mantra which means, “Always Faithful”. When Kenny walks down the street, he still stands tall, with the good posture and confident step that he learned as a young marine.

Children play in southeastern Laos river near the former Ho Chi Minh Trail, Kenny's unit fought near here

Kenny’s been free of heroin and other hard drugs for years, but he’s still no angel. Today he sometimes smokes marijuana, and occasionally patronizes prostitutes. He’s no wild man though. He prefers to spend more of his time sharing stories with friends over a cocktail, relaxing and playing pool. I played him a sometimes, and rarely won.

Despite all that Kenny’s endured, he has a balance to his life now, and seems to have found peace with himself. As a result of the PTSD, he now gets disability and social security. With the low cost of living in Vietnam, this gives him more money than he needs. He wouldn’t call himself retired though. Kenny  occasionally leads scuba diving trips around southeast Asia. These are not trips for the weak; he runs them similar to how things were back when he was a marine. His tours cover multiple countries, traveling fast, while getting in as many scuba dives as they can.

“I don’t need the money. I do these trips to give myself something to do,” he told me. Scuba diving is a passion for him.

One day, Kenny was at a train station in Vietnam, and an older porter came to help him with his bags. Being his friendly self, and speaking some Vietnamese, Kenny struck up a conversation with him. It turned out the porter was also a war veteran, a former soldier of the North Vietnamese Army. After the two spoke for a while, Kenny discovered that this old soldier had also fought in the same valley of Laos where Kenny used to fight along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. It was possible that their units had even fought against each other. Like Kenny, this old soldier had been wounded too.

But that was years ago. All the old hatreds were gone, and the past was past. When before these men would have quickly killed each other, now they could talk and share stories.

Kenny has his pension, so he isn’t in need of anything. On the other hand, the other old veteran’s pension is very small, which is why he still has to work as a train station porter.

Before they parted, Kenny held out his hand to his old adversary. “Peace,” Kenny said to him.

The other veteran shook his hand, and smiled. ”Peace,” he said back in agreement.

 The old hatreds between these two old warriors, had been replaced with mutual respect.