AIRBORNE ELEPHANTS LEAVING LAOS

Old domestic terminal of Vientiane's Wattay Airport

I’ve left the far north of this lovely land of Laos, and made my way to Wattay Airport, in the capital Vientiane. I’m not here for long though, I’m waiting for a flight. Soon, I’ll be departing. Leaving Laos. 

Overall it’s been an enlightening visit, and I regret that I’m leaving. I only had one close call in Laos. That was the unfortunate encounter between my trousers and a knife, which happened while I was riding on the back of an elephant!  

Walking around the shops and restaurants of the international departure terminal, I find it more modern than expected. The domestic terminal is a relic, (more like a bus station) but the air conditioned international terminal is an oddity of advanced development for such a poor country. Foreign diplomats always fly in and out of here, and just like in other third world capital airports, diplomats hate to be uncomfortable. So they were more than happy to provide foreign aid money to build this new international terminal, to make their own airport experiences smooth and comfy. 

Before I bid adieu to Laos, I stare out the departure gate window across the tarmac. Once again, Laos surprises me!

Will an elephant from Laos survive in North Korea?

Farther down to my left, I see a Russian built cargo jet. What surprises me, is the large starred flag painted across the tail. My eyes widen. There’s no mistaking that flag, this bulky jet is from another communist country. It’s flown all the way here, from North Korea! 

Straining my eyes to see what’s going on, I can see that the rear cargo doors are swung open, and a large truck has been backed up to the tail end. 

What could they be loading? This wasn’t any secret cargo. If there was, they would have loaded the jet over in the military area of the airport, out of sight from foreigners like me. What were they loading exactly? 

TWO ELEPHANTS !

Reported in the media, this pair of departing pachyderms were a gift from the People’s Democratic Republic of Laos, to their communist brothers in the People’s Democratic Republic of North Korea. (Those are strange titles for both, since neither country has any real democracy.)

Never mind that Laos isn’t really communist anymore, as capitalism abounds. There is still oppression here, but it’s nowhere near as bad as in North Korea today. But since the cold war is over and the reds lost, the North Koreans will take all the friends that they can get, even a poor landlocked friend like Laos.

It makes sense that they have to fly the elephants there on a cargo jet; they might not survive an overland trip in trucks, followed by a long sea voyage in a cargo ship. 

Leaving Laos. I'll miss this place.

Then again, I  wonder about the wisdom of sending Asian elephants to North Korea at all. Elephants have enormous appetites, and North Korea is prone to food shortages. I don’t expect that those Laotian elephants will be eating very well after they arrive. And how well will these elephants survive those cold North Korean winters, when they come from a tropical climate?

I’ll miss the simple charms of this warm locale, but now I have to leave this lovely country. My visa has already been extended, and it runs out tomorrow. My time in Laos is up. I will have to cross borders to avoid fines, or risk trouble with the authorities. 

Today I fly back to Saigon in Vietnam, but I won’t be there long either. Traveling on, I will make my way to the final country on my Southeast Asian odyssey.

Cambodia.


**NOTE** The old international airport for Vientiane has been closed. The new airport has opened, across the street.

AUSSIE AND THE BOMB

Rice paddies and karst mountains in the remote, beautiful town of Viengxay

Viengxay in Laos, was once just a series of scattered villages, until the war put this place on the target map for US bombers. After it became the underground headquarters for the communist Pathet Lao rebels, it grew to shelter 20,000 soldiers and citizens. Now with the wartime caves emptied, Viengxay is among the larger towns of the remote northeast. 

Today the town looks like any rural Laotian community. Walking dirt streets, I pass traditional wooden Lao houses, with handmade bamboo fences. Local men play petang, a game brought here by French colonials. On the outskirts, farmers tend their rice paddies by hand, as they've done for generations. 

Meanwhile the misty and mysterious karst mountains stand sentinel around Viengxay, ancient guardians of history. I pause to watch them, as passing clouds move between the peaks. Before my eyes, the mists completely obscure entire mountains that were visible only minutes before. 

Meg, only white foreigner living here

Continuing my stroll, I find the local tourist office. Walking in, I meet a worker that I was never expecting to see in this remote place. 

A white woman!

I say hello, and chat with Meg, an Aussie. She’s short with white hair, and appears to be nearing retirement age. She tells me that she used to teach at a university in Australia, and now her kids are all grown. She decided to keep working because she enjoys it, and she heard of a position here in the tourist office. 

“Philosophically, I’m a peacenik,” she explains. I wonder if she protested against Australia’s involvement in the war in Southeast Asia, all those years ago. 

I ask Meg why she came to Viengxay, and she answers, “I liked the challenge.” There’s no mobile phone signal here, and no internet either. When she wants to check her email, Meg has to take a bus to Sam Neua, over an hour away. And there isn’t always a bus to come back either. 

I can tell she's worked in Viengxay for a while, since she walks around the office barefoot! One of her jobs here, was editing text on the historical signs that I’d seen in the caves. For once, most of the tourist signs here were written with correct English grammar, so I can thank Meg for that. 

Meg even worked in Viengxay before, and returned to work again. The warmth of the Laotian people brought her back. “I love the Lao people,” she says. “The Lao people are so optimistic. So much destroyed, and they are still optimistic.”

Men play petang by old cluster bomb casing

As it turns out, Meg was unexpectedly a firsthand witness to some recent destruction. One morning she was walking to work here in the office, just like she did every day. On the way, she heard official announcements blaring from the community loudspeakers. She can’t speak Lao, so she didn’t understand the announcement’s meaning. 

She soon found out. She was arriving in front of the tourism office when it happened. 

B-O-O-O-M!!!!! 

A massive explosion shattered the calm of the quiet morning. This deafening sound was unlike anything Meg had experienced in her life. When the bomb went off around 100 meters away, she was more than just surprised. 

“I was knocked to the ground!“ she told me.  

An explosive ordinance disposal team had just detonated a 500 pound bomb that had been recently found, left over from the war. Rather than trying to remove the dangerous old weapon, they had decided to detonate it where it had been discovered: within town limits. The community loudspeaker announcements that she hadn’t understood, were warning town residents to take shelter for the coming blast. 

“I felt violent nausea,” she said recalling those shocking moments, “and horror.”

I ponder her thoughts on the explosion. This was only from a single 500 pound bomb, and so many of these were dropped on Viengxay nearly every day during the war years. Those caves where they took shelter weren’t comfortable, but they were preferable to living out here in the open, where death rained down from above. 

Caves of Viengxay, where residents and soldiers sheltered during air raids

I bid Meg good bye, and continue on through town. 

Her job certainly is a challenge. Given Viengxay's remote location, trying to attract tourists here is an uphill battle. As I’ve walked around town, I’ve only seen two other visitors all day long. 

Although few journey this far, there are those in high places that still remember Viengxay’s importance. Recently, an impressive caravan of 120 cars rolled into town all the way from Vientiane. It was a government convoy arriving for a commemorative event for this former communist wartime headquarters. It was a grand affair, and the current Minister of Foreign Affairs gave a speech. 

Like many of the others attending the official event, back during the war the Minister had been born here in the caves.

ELEPHANT CAVE AND UNDERGROUND THEATER

Ledge for anti-aircraft guns

I continue exploring this communist caveland of Viengxay, and now I'm climbing many, many steps up the stone mountain. The steep climb is enough to make my long legs sore. 

Finally, we reach a large ledge that has been cut right into the limestone of the mountainside. It’s a steep drop below me, with a commanding view beyond. In the distance are more mountains, with feathery clouds dotting their peaks. Beautiful rolling farmers fields are swathed in many shades of green. 

My guide Kale tells me his family is from Viengxay; his parents were farmers here during those fearful times of war. He says that when they were out working the fields then, and enemy aircraft came, they ran into the jungle or into the caves to hide. When day time air attacks became frequent, they could hardly get any work done at all. So they began working fields at night. 

The commanding view from this ledge is no accident, because this vantage point was once the site of a Pathet Lao anti-aircraft emplacement. The old guns are gone, but a sign here describes what days were like back then. 

“Defending Viengxay

Anti-aircraft guns were fixed inside this cave and on the plain below. The Anti-aircraft gunnery commander was situated high in this cave, where there was a good view across the plain to the west. From here field telephones were used to command the gun emplacements on the plain and to direct fire at the incoming enemy aircraft. Warning sirens on top of the peaks were set off when incoming planes were spotted. 

Anti-aircraft gunner's view of plains and mountains surrounding Viengxay

Anti-aircraft gunners sat here for hours on end surveying the skies to the west. They were waiting for American bombers to arrive from their bases in northern Thailand, mainly from a specially constructed base in Udon Thani, or Royal Lao Government aircraft from Vientiane. When the bombers were seen, the noise from the guns firing from inside the confined space of the cave must have been deafening. For the gunners on the open plains below, the risks were even higher than for their comrades in the caves, as they were directly exposed to attacking aircraft. You can see bomb craters just below this cliff, at the base of the stairs to the Artillery Cave.”

I peer down at the ground to look for the craters, but they're difficult to see with the thick brush below. It may not be entirely safe down there either. Even though there have been three decades for erosion to fill in many of the old craters, there are still many unexploded bombs in the ground all around Viengxay. 

Farmers still find these old bombs when they're out plowing fields in the region. Being a farmer can be a hazardous profession in Laos. 

'Elephant Cave', the largest cave in the underground communist city

Continuing on, I finally reach the biggest cave in all of Viengxay, and it’s an impressive sight. I’m gawking at the cave of Xanglot, which translates as ‘Elephant Pass Cave’. The jagged and uneven limestone ceiling curves from 20 feet high at the sides, up to more than 30 feet near the middle. The cave is well named; a full grown Asian elephant could walk in through one end of this cave, and straight out the other. 

In the underground world that made up wartime Viengxay, this was an important political center. There were official functions in this huge cave; communist party rallys and propaganda meetings.  For the Pathet Lao, this was kind of like Moscow’s Red Square, only in a bomb shelter. It was also used as a lecture hall for military training. 

Thanks to it’s larger entrances, I have plenty of light to see. At the far end is a curious sight, a theatrical stage. That reveals this place's other name: 'Theater Cave'. 

Photo display of old wartime performances and rallies

The cave stage is complete with an orchestra pit, and a room in the wings for costume changes. The stage floor isn’t made of wood though, it’s smoothened bedrock. I imagine there wasn’t much tap dancing here. 

Out in front, the audience section had room for 2,000 comrades, where they sat out on the bare rock floor to enjoy the show. 

In the sheltered, underground life that everyone in wartime Viengxay endured, this was one of the few places where the soldiers and locals could enjoy themselves and forget about the bombings for a while. 

There were cultural shows, circus acts, and singing with live music for the party faithful. There were even special appearances by female performers doing traditional dances, brought all the way in from Vietnam. These were the communist versions of USO shows. It wasn’t Bob Hope, but it did a lot to lift their spirits and boost morale. 

Visitor walks across the old empty stage

The Theater Cave still gets some use nowadays; the local community uses it as a venue for the Laotian New Year’s celebration. But for the most part, the old stage is quiet and bare; even the old curtain has been removed. 

The days when Pathet Lao troops here, enjoyed the communist version of vaudeville underneath a mountain, are now only distant memories. 

PRINCE'S CAVE HIDEOUT

This pool for the Red Prince lacks water

I’m standing outside a cave in Viengxay, the communist's underground city,  and I’m looking at a strange sight. It’s a small swimming pool, and there isn’t even any water in it. It's an odd place for the only swimming pool around; outside an uninhabited cavern. 

An odd fact about this pool, is that the construction team that built it years ago, didn’t do much digging. That’s because the original hole here was from a bomb crater, from an American 500 pound bomb! If that isn’t strange enough, the pool’s edges form an unusual shape. 

My guide Kale explains. “Souphanouvoung say they make the pool in the shape of a heart, because Lao people have strong heart.”

This dry pool fronts the entrance to former Prince Souphanouvoung's cave. The infamous 'Red Prince' had turned from his life of royalty, and joined the communists. The prince had gone from living in Luang Prabang's royal court, to living in a damp cave here in Viengxay. 

To be precise, this was the Red Prince’s second cave. Prior to that he had lived in another cave 10 km away, and he relocated here in 1967. By moving to Viengxay, the future 'President of Laos' was able to stay more connected with the politburo and the rebellion. 

Walking past his strange pool, I head to his cave’s entrance, where several large, dark boulders are piled about. 

Aerial bomb attacks knocked these boulders from the cliff sides overhead

“These from the bombs,” Kale tells me. “The rock fall. See there?” I look where he’s pointing, at the high rock walls overhead. Some notches were blown into the sides of the mountain from the devastating explosions of aerial attacks, and the boulders fell below, piling up around the cave entrance. 

The wreckage of these rocks truly showed the limits of air power. When the attacks came, the prince and the communists were sheltered deep inside these underground caves, beneath towering limestone mountains. Even if a perfectly targeted bomb managed to cave in one entrance, there were always other exits they could use to get out. 

Forget what you see in the movies. These mountains could have been bombed for decades, and their deep, solid rock interiors would have remained intact. 

Also outside the cave’s entrance, is a grapefruit tree. “This tree present from General Giap,” Kale tells me. Apparently the hero of Dien Bien Phu and general of the North Vietnamese Army had traveled all the way here to Viengxay during the war, and met with Central Committee members. Having fought both the French and the Americans, Giap knew a few things about tunnel warfare. 

Entrance to the Red Prince's cave

An airtight interior door in case of chemical attack

Walking through another wooden doorway, I enter the underground home of the ex-prince. His caves are much like those where Kaysone slept nearby. Wooden walls were installed inside the cavern, to create basic bedrooms for him and his children. There is less to look at though, since the interiors have been stripped, (or looted,) and there’s no furniture left. There’s an office area, and a 'squatty potty' toilet. There's also another airtight emergency room, with an air pump in case of chemical attack.

Stupa for prince's son, killed in 1967

An informational sign tells about the prince's life. Here's an excerpt: 

“As a student in Hanoi, Prince Souphannouvong developed a great interest in literature, design and foreign languages that continued throughout his life. He continued his education in France, graduated in 1937 as a civil engineer and returned to Nha Trang in Vietnam to work as a road and railway engineer. In Nha Trang, Souphannouvang met his Vietnamese wife, who was actively involved in politics – she may have introduced him to Viet Minh campaigners. 

The Souphannouvang family had 10 children, and some of them lived in these caves during the war years. Children in many of the families based in Viengxay, including those of the leaders, were sent out of the area for safety. They spent many years growing up far away from their parents.”

I imagine that his children were probably holed up in China or Russia, or in untargeted areas of North Vietnam. Just like Kaysone, the Prince spent some of his time in North Vietnam as well, where life was more comfortable than this caveland.

Regarding his family, the sign neglects to mention that one of the prince’s sons was killed in this region in 1967. Assassinated at the age of 28, a photo of the young man wearing a suit and tie is outside the cave, next to a red memorial stupa erected for him. It seems that even the children of the Red Prince were not immune from the war's violence. 

Road to Prince's hideout. With the war over, Viengxay is now a scenic place to visit.

After the war's end, the old prince died in 1995. 

A few years later in 2000, another of his sons, Khamsai Souphannouvang, fled Laos. At the time, Khamsai had been the Minister of State Enterprises. Some Laotians believe that once his powerful father was gone, the son had no one left to protect him and his corrupt dealings. Although he left behind a house and other property, many Laotians say the son of the Red Prince fled the country with millions of dollars in state funds. 

He was eventually granted asylum in New Zealand. 

UNDERGROUND CITY OF THE COMMUNISTS

This ought to be a jail cell. There are iron bars on the doors, and just above eye level there are more iron bars running along the top of the white wooden walls. Furniture is sparse; there's only a pair of simple beds with a coat rack. Yet this isn’t a jail cell, it’s a bedroom. And during the war, this happened to have been the bedroom of the most powerful communist in all of Laos. 

Secure bedrooms for the leader's family

Central Committee Chairman Kaysone's bedroom

Kaysone Phomvihane slept here, and this iron-barred bedroom is inside what was once a secret underground complex of caves, deep under the towering stone mountains of Viengxay. These caves were the Pathet Lao’s main headquarters during the long war in Laos; the most closely guarded place in the country. Kaysone was not a prisoner here, but at times he certainly lived like one. He spent many days and nights in this cave, hiding from the aerial bombing that rained down from the US and Royal Laotian air forces. 

It was way back in the 1950’s, that the Pathet Lao first gathered their forces in this region. Since it was so remote, and so close to Vietnam, it was out of reach of the Royal Laotian Government. And it stayed quiet here until 1964, when US led aerial bombing began. When the massive American bombing campaign commenced that year over northern Laos, it was dubbed, ‘Operation Barrel Roll’. At the time nobody could have imagined that Laos would be bombed for eight more long and devastating years, making Laos the most heavily bombed country on earth! 

Viengxay - once littered with bomb craters, it's now a beautiful town

With American aircraft ruling the skies, the Pathet Lao leadership quickly moved into these caves that same year. The continued bombing forced most of Viengxay’s residents to live underground, like troglodytes. So Viengxay became a city of caves. In these tunnels deep within the mountains, there were sleeping quarters, offices, workshops, a hospital, even an underground market. One thing not kept below ground, were the anti-aircraft guns used to shoot at attacking aircraft. An informational sign outside explains those difficult and dangerous years. 

“On Watch Night and Day - On 17 May 1964, the first US plane, a T28, attacked the Viengxay area. During the years of bombardment until 1973, this area was hardly ever quiet in the daytime. Warning sirens were set off at the sight of approaching planes, and explosions would echo around the hills and valleys. There was a complete blackout at night and during raids all cooking had to be done inside the caves. The area was defended by anti-aircraft guns placed on top of many of the mountains that you can see from here. Because of the danger of bomb damage and rocks falling from the mountains, it was said to be safer to be on top of the mountains if you could not shelter in caves. A gun emplacement at what is now the post office was hit by a bomb, causing several deaths.”

Door to chemical attack shelter

The sign fails to mention that the T28’s were not flown by Americans. Although donated by the US, these slower propeller planes were flown by Laotian pilots of the Royal Government. 

Steps away from Kaysone’s bedroom, I approach another secret hideout. The sign overhead reads, ‘THE EMERGENCY ROOM’, and the door and its frame are made of thick steel. Four large corner handles enabled Kaysone to lock the door airtight from the inside. I enter, and suddenly, I feel very much like I'm back in the days of the cold war. A lone bulb above illuminates this inner room, carved completely out of bedrock. This was Kaysone’s last bunker refuge. Besides another bed and a pair of wooden chairs, a blue pump in the corner reveals the real reason for this room. This hand operated pump, connected to the cave wall wasn’t for water. It was to pump filtered air, in case of chemical attack.

With the long war raging in Southeast Asia, Kaysone was worried that the US Air Force would drop chemical weapons on Viengxay. Although aerial bombings went on for years, the caves were never attacked with chemical weapons. 

I ask my local guide Kale how long Kaysone lived in this cave hideout. 

“Nine years,” he answers.

An air pump is inside this shelter in case of chemical weapon attack

That’s the stock party answer, but it’s an exaggeration. This may have been Kaysone’s 'official' wartime home, but the old party boss also spent much of his time across the border with his patrons in North Vietnam. As the crow flies, it’s only 10 miles to the Vietnamese border, source of the aid that kept his rebellion going. Although bombings were a constant threat, Viengxay was never seriously threatened on the ground. If Kaysone and his cronies ever had been threatened by advancing government troops, (and they weren’t) they would have easily fled across the border to North Vietnam in minutes. 

As I make my way through the damp caves, I’m impressed at the height and width of many of the spacious rooms. This is a much more comfortable underground experience, than when I had to crawl through the pitch black tunnels of Cu Chi in Vietnam. In most places here I can walk fully erect, as I explore the darkened passageways of these historical caves. 

Connecting cave in the labyrinth

Beneath a nearby overhanging rock ledge, is an elevated platform. Two cement blocks the size of feet give away how this spot was used. This was an Asian style squatty potty; Communist Party Chairman Kaysone’s toilet! Since this subterranean world lacked plumbing, there were no sitdown toilets down here. With caves carved out of solid rock, it was impossible to create a pit latrine without stinking up the limestone labyrinth. It seems that Kaysone, and anyone else who sheltered in here during air raids, had to relieve themselves into buckets. These waste filled containers were later carried away by hand, and emptied outside the caves. That had to be one of the least glorious of jobs; disposing of the Great Leader’s excrement. 

My guide Kale leads me down another damp, dimly lit tunnel. Passing through a doorway, it opens up into a large room. Like most communist meeting rooms, it’s austere and basic, although a small opening at the end gives this room better ventilation and lighting. Simple cloth covered tables are surrounded by seven wooden chairs. Old maps hang from the walls. 

A blue sign gives the rooms significance: “MEETING ROOM OF THE CENTRAL COMMITTEE POLITBUREAU OF THE ” Strangely, the sign ends there. Of the what? The Communist Party? It appears that whoever painted the sign, ran out of space to complete the leadership’s full title. 

This well protected cavern, was a nerve center for the Pathet Lao. Here politburo members plotted their revolution, discussing victories and defeats during their long war of rebellion. 

For an added historical touch, standing on the table in front of each seat, is a framed photo of each of the politburo’s members. Unlike certain members of the Vietnamese Politburo that gained international fame and notoriety, most of these men remained practically anonymous to the western world. I wonder if any of them are still alive today. 

The 'politburo' for the Laotian communist party held their meetings here

In an adjoining room, six simple bedframes are lined up in a row. This was the ‘resting room’, for the communist leaders. This was also needed due to the air raids. When the politburo would meet, apparently there were occasional attacks that prevented them from leaving the cavern when the meetings adjourned. 

I’m disappointed that there aren’t many artifacts to see here. Most of the furnishings, weapons, and everything else that the Pathet Lao stored in these caves are long gone. Since the war ended, this hidden sanctuary has remained quiet. 

I leave Kaysone’s lair, and outside the entrance there are plenty of trees and greenery. There is no grand entrance to the cave, no massive steel door either. Sandbags used to protect the entrances are gone too. The entrance now is a natural stone arch, partly blocked by boulders and brush. Except for a nearby cement stairway, you would never guess that this was once the headquarters of communism in Laos. 

A hidden cave's entrance (at left)

After the war in Laos, as the Cold War continued, these caves remained officially secret. They were closed and guarded for years. The Pathet Lao wanted to keep their caveland refuge safe, just in case they were ever needed again. But they weren't needed. In recent years when Laos opened it’s borders to tourists, soon after they opened these caves as well. As I explore the caverns today, there are no guards anywhere. Not one. Even the entrance gate to Kaysone’s cave was left unmanned. That may be due to lack of tourists, since there are no other visitors here either. It is only my guide and I, exploring this obsolete, subterranean world.  

Close to Kaysone’s cave entrance, is what looks like a strange Swiss chalet. Built after the bombing stopped, Kaysone moved in here after the peace was signed in 1973. Along with other nearby government buildings, it now sits empty. The Pathet Lao built his home near the cave entrances for safety. They wanted to be able to run back into the caves, if the bombings had started all over again. They never did. 

F-111s over Southeast Asia. An F-111 was the last US aircraft to bomb Laos.(Source:USAF)

The last USAF bombing mission over Laos was from an F-111, which dropped its bombs on February 22, 1973. The massive American bombing campaign over Laos was finally over. The US military had learned that victory through air power alone, didn’t work. Much of the Laotian countryside had been destroyed, and many were killed. Yet the communists, like these caves, were still here. 

In the end, the winning side in Laos was decided by the extent of continuing military support. The Royal Laotian government was able to survive, as long as they received massive amounts of military aid, and air support from the US. But without American help, they couldn’t survive for long against the North Vietnamese Army. The support of the nearby North Vietnamese, had outlasted the support of the distant Americans. 

KING'S FATE IN JUNGLE PRISON

High altitude town of Sam Neua, where clouds pass below the peaks

Fast moving clouds flow quickly across the valley before me. I am so high up in altitude, that clouds are passing beneath the foliage covered peaks beyond. Just another beautiful morning in the Annamite Mountains of Laos, in the remote northeastern town of Sam Neua.

I admire the view in this obscure town, but I’m not staying. I’m only passing through, waiting to board a truck this morning heading further east. Growing impatient, I climb into the front passenger seat to wait. Looking down on the floor by my feet, I find an old US made ammunition case! Opening it up for a look, it's full of tools. It may be rusty, but ammo cases make great tool boxes.

Finally the driver gets in and we depart, driving east into the mountains. Outside town we pass a walled compound with new buildings, and looking in I notice a couple of Russian made military jeeps parked inside. 

During a chance meeting with a relative of the Vice-Governor, I was told me who’s in that compound. 

Old US made ammo case in my ride

“That Vietnam Army base,” the relative told me. 

Curious at the presence of Vietnamese troops still in Laos, I asked, "Why is that base there?"

“To protect the border,” he answered. 

Hmmm... We’re not that close to the border; by road it’s three hour's drive. If they are here to ‘protect the border’, then why are they based so deep inside Laos? I remember the Vietnamese 'general' that I had met on a train to Hanoi. He said he was based on the border, was he based here?

Back during the war, one of the rallying cries for the Pathet Lao rebels, was to put an end to ‘foreign interference’ in Laos. Those who actually believed in this idea were betrayed by the communist leadership after the war. 

When the Vientiane agreement was signed in 1973, all foreign troops were agreed to be withdrawn, and the American advisers and Thai troops left soon afterwards. The North Vietnamese Army on the other hand, remained. In the post war years, Vietnamese influence continued, and so did the presence of Vietnamese troops. As I’ve just seen on the road, that presence continues to this day, although in smaller numbers. 

New bridge in Sam Neua, Laos. Most of the workers are Vietnamese, not Laotian.

The Laotian government’s dependence had merely shifted. They were no longer reliant on America, they became reliant on Vietnam. Even with the cold war is over, some of that reliance continues. Fortunately, most of that reliance is now sent as economic aid, rather than military aid. 

I recall how back in Sam Neua the previous day, I had seen a new bridge under construction over the Xam River. This aid project is led by a Vietnamese construction company, and the laborers were Vietnamese. I had asked a local Laotian about them, and she admitted that those men weren’t very popular here. One thing hasn’t changed over the years; most Laotians continue to dislike the Vietnamese. 

As my Laotian ride takes me deeper into rugged Houaphan Province, I think back to my time in Luang Prabang, and the fate of the last Laotian king. His final years were spent somewhere in this region, in a secret jungle prison. In those post-war years, the bamboo gulags of Houaphan held more than 15,000 prisoners. They were former soldiers, policemen, government officials, and others that had opposed the communists. Some who held high positions were imprisoned for 15 years. Some never left alive. 

The king died in a jungle prison (photo:RLA)

These camps were located in this poor region by the communists, so that they could punish the prisoners through primitive living conditions. In some cases, prisoners were even forced to build their own internment camp! The remote location was also strategic. If a prison camp was located anywhere in western Laos, escape would have been easier with Thailand close by. Since the communists put the prison camps on the eastern border, escape to Thailand was nearly impossible. Anyone escaping east across the border to Vietnam, would probably be quickly captured and sent back to Laos. 

Those imprisoned here never had a trial, and were denied their rights. The Geneva Convention didn’t exist in Laos. Days were filled with hard labor, endless indoctrination sessions, and poor food. Some were executed. Others died of mistreatment, or from denial of medical care. If a prisoner didn’t survive, the government didn’t even give their family an official explanation as to how they had died. I wonder if any of these same prisons ever held any of the American soldiers that were missing in action (MIA) after they disappeared during the war. 

The most secret of these prisons was Camp 5, the gulag for highest level prisoners that were never released. It’s believed that the Laotian royal family were imprisoned there. The king, queen, and two princes died in the camp, and how they actually died was never explained to the public. It's believed that King Sisavang Vatthana died in 1980, from mistreatment, and from denial of medical care. The location of their graves remains secret to this day. Later accounts say the royal family are buried somewhere out here in unmarked graves, much as the Bolsheviks hid the bodies of the Romanoffs. 

Mountains that sheltered communist HQ during the war

In this post cold war era, almost all of the old prison camps in this region have been shut down, but unlike in Vietnam, there is no public access allowing me to see the old prisons that are no longer in use. Not all of these bamboo gulags have been closed though, there are still some prisoners held here, hidden from the outside world. Some sent here recently, were prisoners of conscience. 

When democracy movements began sweeping across Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, some Laotians in high places began to push for democratic reforms. Much like his patrons in Vietnam and China, the old commie Kaysone squashed any attempt at democracy. Three intellectual government reformists were arrested In 1990, and quickly imprisoned. They included the Vice-Minister of Economics and Planning, Vice-Minister of Science and Technology, and a Justice Ministry official. All were sentenced to 14 years imprisonment in one of the old Houphan labor camps. One of the reformists died in prison in 1998, due to a lack of medical care. The open war in Laos is over, but the secret war against democracy continues.

As our truck rumbles along, the rural landscape opens up, revealing a group of karst mountains to the south. From my distant perspective, I can’t help but think that they resemble a giant six pack of beer. I’m unaware of their significance, but these mountains are my destination. Those towering peaks are Viengxay, and during the war this was the most important stronghold of the communist Pathet Lao Army. I'll be arriving soon. 

MOUNTAIN OF MISSING MEN

Remote Annamite Mountains of Northeast Laos. Few foreigners come here.

I'm way off the tourist trail, maybe the only westerner for many miles. Where I'm going, there are no amenities. I’m heading east out of the Plain of Jars, into a part of Laos even more remote. This half sized, bare-bones bus is taking me into Houaphan Province, towards the Vietnamese border. Few foreigners go there. 

As the rickety local bus chugs along, we rumble our way over the rolling hills east of Phonsavan. But these relatively easy roads don’t last. Soon we are off the Plain of Jars, curving in and out of the Annamite Mountains. Meanwhile, our little chicken bus stops in just about every roadside village along the way. Soon every seat is taken, and the undersized bus is packed. 

Since this bus was made for Asians and not westerners, I don't have much leg room either. With my knees jammed into the seat in front of me, I pull my knees up in a vain attempt to get comfortable. With no seats left, a teenager stands by the open side door, giving us a fresh breeze of air as we drive on. 

This poor guy got sick out the door

There’s no air conditioning on this bus, but since we are in the cool air of the high altitude, it isn’t really needed. The views are gorgeous. Most of the surrounding mountains are covered with trees or overgrowth, and there are few signs of civilization. Looking away from the highway into the distance, few highland villages are visible at all. Even for Laos, the population density in this region is very low. 

The curving, sloping roads of the mountains make some on the bus queasy. As we descend and curve around the swtichbacks, the standing teenager vomits more than once. Now I know why the poor kid was standing by the door.

In some areas, we pass brand new, thin power poles that have just been installed. Strangely, they are painted blue. They don’t have power lines on them yet, but they are coming. It’s an encourging sign of development. First come sturdy bridges, and then a paved highway. Next comes electricity, and improved communications follows. Hopefully more schools, and access to better markets for the farmers will be next.

The highland peoples who live up here, are very different from the lowland ethnic Lao. This is hill tribe country. There are many different ethnic groups here, and some don’t even speak Laotian. The differences up here extend far beyond language, with numerous cultures and religions. Rather than Buddhism, many of these hill tribe folk still practice Animism. 

Old war weapons, some US made, on wall of a northern Laos restaurant today

Driving along one remote hill, our bus passes four teenage hill tribe boys walking by the roadside. Two wear camouflage shirts, and one carries an old US made M-16 rifle, slung over his thin shoulder! The boy is so short, that the M -16 almost looks larger then him. He is dwarfed by the old weapon. 

Further down the road, the bus passes three Hmong men carrying crossbows. Despite seeing these armed men, I don’t think that there was any local unrest going on, at least not today. They were probably just out hunting, since they didn’t even look up at the bus as we passed. In poor remote areas such as this, men have to rely on wild game to round out the family diet. Still, there have been occasional uprisings by the Hmong here, notably back in 2004. 

According to a US State Department report: “Ethnic Hmong in Houaphanh Province launched a series of coordinated attacks on government outposts in an apparent effort to seize weapons located in a government arsenal in Viengsai town. The attack against the arsenal was repulsed, but in the aftermath, the rebels fired on a bus and motorcycle traveling to a market, killing five passengers. Five of the attackers were also killed when security forces caught up with them shortly after the vehicle ambush. Following this incident, fighting broke out between rebels and government troops in several areas of Houaphanh Province; at least 13 soldiers and probably several dozen Hmong rebels were killed in this fighting, and over 100 Hmong villagers suspected of supporting the rebellion were arrested...”

Secret mountaintop American base called "Lima Site 85" (Photo: Wikepedia)

This is one of the most remote regions of Laos, and back during the Vietnam War years, it saw plenty of fighting. Just north of here, not far from the Vietnamese border, is a mountain sacred to the Hmong known as Phou Pha Thi. This mountain also became very valuable to the US during the war, as it housed a secret base. The site is now overgrown and abandoned, so I won’t be able to get any closer to it than the highway, but Phou Pha Thi may have been America’s most secret military installation in all of Southeast Asia. Even more secret than Long Tieng, it was known as 'Lima Site 85'.

This remote mountain housed a small radar installation. Used for tactical air navigation, it was operated by a small group airmen from the US Air Force, working undercover. Since the tall mountain was so close to the Vietnamese border, the radar could reach all the way to the skies over Hanoi, about 160 miles eastward. This remote little base in Laos was an important key, for the American bombing campaign over North Vietnam. 

As secret as this base was, it wasn’t long before the Vietnamese found it. With so many North Vietnamese (NVA) soldiers running around northern Laos at the time, they must have been astonished to find this base so close to their own border. Once located, they quickly set out to destroy it. 

Captured US gear & NVA soldier(Photo:Vtn Archive)

Soon after, the skies over Lima Site 85 were the scene of perhaps the most improbable aerial dogfight of the entire war. The North Vietnamese sent three old Russian Antonov 2 biplanes to attack the remote radar site. When this surprise attack occurred, there were no American fighters nearby to fight them off. So an Air America pilot counter-attacked with the only aircraft available: a Huey helicopter! Since the chopper was faster than the biplanes, an accompanying crewman was able to shoot down one of the biplanes from the door, using only a rifle. Like everything else related to Lima Site 85, the story of this bizarre aerial battle remained an official secret for years. 

With the failure of their air assault, the NVA sent in thousands of Vietnamese soldiers to take the base from the ground. The small mountain installation was defended by outnumbered Hmong militia. When the NVA made their final assault on the radar base one night in 1968, fighting was fierce. As the situation deteriorated, the American airmen joined the battle. 

When NVA commandos managed to climb the mountain and reach the radar site, the airmen’s time ran out. As the base fell into enemy hands, some of the radar technicians attempted to rappel down the steep mountain cliff. But they were killed by the NVA before they could reach the jungle below. 11 of the brave airmen lost their lives, while only five Americans were rescued. 

It’s only recently that the US government publicly honored the men lost on that night so many years ago. In 2010, President Obama awarded the Medal of Honor to the family of Chief Master Sgt. Richard Etchberger of the US Air Force. Etchberger had fought bravely on the mountain, managing to call in air strikes, while protecting other wounded Americans around him. But he didn’t survive. After boarding a rescue chopper, he was shot as the helicopter lifted off from the mountain. Most of the other Americans that died there are still listed as Missing in Action today. Hundreds of Hmong, and North Vietnamese soldiers also died in this unknown battle for this remote mountain, deep in the northeast of Laos. 

WOULD YOU LIKE AN EXPLOSIVE WITH YOUR COFFEE?

Cafe owner Sith offers me a whiskey

I’m bouncing along in our 4X4 on a rural Laotian road. We’ve just left a village where I watched a blacksmith pound old war refuse into farm tools! ‘Swords into plowshares’ indeed. On our way back, we stop at a small roadside café to satisfy our thirst. It's a hot day, and a freshly squeezed juice would really hit the spot.

As we enter, I quickly notice that by western standards it’s not a café. It’s more like an ornate shack with tables, and bizarre decorations. I’m wary of the lack of cleanliness, but my guide recommends the place. I decide against a fresh juice, and opt for a safer can of soda. 

Soon, I’m approached by an old Laotian with white hair. This is Sith, the café’s owner. I’m relieved to learn that he speaks some English, though his French is even better. 

“I French teacher, many years,” Sith tells me. He first learned in school, back during French colonial times. Wearing shorts and sandals, he still sports a black French beret. 

Retired from teaching, he now runs this small café. I check out one section of the eatery’s walls, and I’m surprised to see it covered with two things: posters of pretty Laotian women, and a variety of unexploded ordinance!! While peddling coffee, Sith has been selling UXO relics as war souvenirs on the side.

This is a very dangerous trade, and our host has quite a selection. The display has various mortar rounds, artillery shells, spent artillery casings, a claymore mine, and a belt of machine gun bullets. His biggest display is of 'bombies', small explosives from deadly cluster bombs. Up on a shelf, he has set up a gridlike display of more than 50 of the dangerous orbs. 

Display of deadly US 'bombies' line a wall. Are all of them disarmed?

Since Sith isn’t a trained in bomb disposal, it’s a good bet that at least one of those 50 bombies is still live. If that was true, and one of those bombies is dropped onto the floor and detonates, it could easily kill everyone in this room. It’s happened before. 

Selling disarmed explosives is illegal in most parts of Laos, but in remote places like this, the strict laws regarding the safe handling and selling of UXO aren’t followed. 

As I’m looking at the deadly display, Sith picks up a bombie, tosses it in the air, then offers it to me. “You want buy one?”

I look at him nervously. I’m not into war souvenirs, even if it was defused. Besides, if I was caught carrying a bombie at a border crossing, or caught carrying one inside my luggage onto an aircraft, I would be in a great deal of trouble. I decline. 

More 'bombies' on display. Many types of cluster bombs were dropped on Laos.

Since I’m not buying, the friendly old guy shifts the conversation to politics. He mixes in  the old, and the modern of the political world. He states to me, “Nixon is like George W. Bush.”

“Why is that?” I ask.

“Nixon like the war more than peace,” he says. “Nixon like to bomb the people.”

Sith doesn’t get many American visitors, so as I depart, our host pulls out a bottle of homemade Laotian whiskey. Getting out a small glass, he has a toast with me. 

After we drain our glasses, Sith quickly tucks the bottle away. As he does so, he wears a mischevous grin, as though he’s trying to hide it. “My wife,” he says, gesturing toward the back of the café. 

Now I understand. Sith didn’t want his wife to catch him drinking!

We climb back into our 4X4, and hit the road. 

SWORDS INTO PLOWSHARES, BOMBS INTO TOOLS

"They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks" - Isaiah 2: 4

These metal posts are made from US made cluster bomb casings dropped during the war

A light rain falls as our 4X4 pulls into Tha Chok, a Hmong farming village in northern Laos. Only the main road through town is paved, the rest are muddy dirt roads. Exiting the SUV, I step around puddles and walk into the village. The homes are humble; I see evidence of rural poverty. Most houses are wooden, with traditional thatch rooftops. Life has been improving here though; six months ago electrical power lines finally arrived. It’s a developmental milestone, though most living here cannot afford to buy appliances.

As we approach a village farmhouse, my guide points to a small wooden shack built on top of stilts. He explains why the shacks are elevated; nobody lives in them, they are for food storage.  “They put rice inside,” he explains. “They keep away the rat.”

Although the elevated storage shacks are wooden, the stilts supporting them are made from far different material; metal. They are remnants of the war; each of the four stilts are made from the split half of a cluster bomb casing! They have been turned up on one end, and buried into the ground. The smooth metal surface ensures that rats can’t climb them to reach the rice! 

This cluster bomb casing has been turned into an elevated onion planter!

Walking to another nearby house, a cluster bomb case has been put to other agricultural use: as a planter! I approach the strange elevated planter, wondering what's growing inside. 

Hmong children eye me curiously as I lean over and take a whiff. Onions! By the looks of them, they’ll be ready for harvesting soon. 

This strange display of former military hardware isn’t over, there’s more down the road. My guide leads me into the yard of another nearby house. One long wall of the home’s fence, is made entirely of cluster bomb casings, sitting on one end, lined up one after another. Incredible! There are more than 20, with varying degrees of rust. The fence leans over from all the weight, appearing as though it may collapse. 

Also in the same yard, a separate cluster bomb casing protrudes from the ground, with a tire around it. Sitting on top of it, teathered by its neck, is a small monkey. This cluster bomb case is the monkey’s jungle gym. My presence seems to excite the unfortunate pet. The monkey climbs up and down his metallic home. This has to be the most bizarre use of war refuse that I’ve seen yet. 

Bomb casing is now monkey's jungle jim

Dropped here during the war by the US Air Force, old cluster bombs are tragically still killing Laotian civilians today. My guide says there used to be more cluster bomb casings here before. But with the village so poor, many were sold for scrap.

As we continue walking around the village, he points out a couple of partially detonated old bombs. Split wide open, they now serve as animal feeding troughs! 

Still there’s more. My guide takes me into a small shack, the neighborhood 'blacksmith' shop. Given the poverty here, there is no giant bellows, no fiery furnace. The Hmong blacksmith working here makes due with a fire on an elevated metal table. He doesn’t have an anvil either, for this he has improvised. He has pounded a post into the ground, and covered the top with a strong metal cap made from a military casing; this is his pounding post. I watch as he works on his creation for today: a long knife. It makes a loud metallic racket, as he pounds away at it with a heavy hammer. 

The raw material for this knife, is metal from unexploded ordinance (UXO)! He fashions many other household tools and farming implements this way. (I recall one of my previous meals on the Plain of Jars. I had soup, with an aluminum spoon that had an odd appearance from being hammered into shape. It had been handmade, fashioned from a crashed US aircraft.)

I’m amazed at the ingenuity of the Hmong in these poor villages. They have taken what were once hazardous bomb materials, and then adapted them to suit their needs. Their inventions are used not just for their homes, but also their livelihoods. There are so many cluster bomb casings around this village, it’s obvious that major fighting took place here. I wonder how much UXO still remains here...

Crude fence of cluster bomb casings. There was heavy fighting here during the war.

A local Hmong walks into the blacksmith shack, and I start up a conversation. He’s a farmer, and lived here even before the war. When the conflict came he fled, hiding out with others in caves, and in the forest. When the war finished, he returned. He now has five children. Working as a farmer, he had found bombs when clearing land. 

“What kind of bombs did you find?” I asked him.

“They were all bombies,”(cluster bomblets) he said.

“How many did you find?”

He thinks for a few moments, and replies, “about 10.”

“What did you do with them?”

“I would take them, put them in a campfire, and then run. Sometimes the bombie would crack open. Sometimes nothing happen. Sometimes they explode. It explode so big, the whole fire go out.”

Rusted remains of 'bombie'

This was his crude method of bomb disposal, and fortunately he didn’t die in the process. It wasn’t just bombies that are a buried threat here. In a nearby village, another farmer was killed while he was out tilling his fields. His died when his plow struck an old mortar round. Who would have thought that farming in Laos would be such a dangerous job?

Shaking the brave farmers hand, I bid him goodbye, and we start walking back through the village. Passing more homes, I spot another thatched roof house, with strangely metallic walls. 

Town blacksmith makes a living reworking war refuse into tools, such as this knife

My guide points, saying, “Look, the walls made with UXO.” Sure enough. Rather than the usual wooden planked walls that the neighbors have, these walls are made of metal. Since they have been hammered out flat and pieced together, it’s difficult to make out what their origin was. Most likely, they were fashioned from cluster bomb containers, or from drop tanks used for surplus jet fuel. 

Passing another simple home, my guide says, “Old man live here, he used to grow opium in his garden, for personal use. He died, so don’t have any more.”

It’s not surprising that the old Hmong that lived here grew opium openly, since Laotian hill tribes had used opium for years in traditional ceremonies. During the war, the US military and CIA were unfairly blamed for the Laotian opium trade. The fact is, opium had been grown and traded in Laos for generations before Americans arrived. When French colonials were here, they encouraged opium production as a cash crop. 

Hmong teenagers in traditional attire

As part of the ‘Golden Triangle’, Laotian opium eventually found its way into western countries in its more refined form: heroin. The opium trade wasn’t even outlawed in Laos until 1971, but it’s still a scourge today, part of the underground economy. 

As we head back towards the main road, we come across a pair of young Hmong women wearing traditional Hmong outfits. They look stunning; it seems I’ve stumbled upon a family photos shoot. Their skirts are multi-colored, and hand woven. A long, belt like garment hangs low from around their waist, highlighted in pink, white and red. Their outfits are topped with a black and white hat that resembles a turban. 

The only thing that is of western style in their outfits, are their low heeled shoes. 

Like many Asians, these Hmong girls are short in stature; each stands well below my shoulder. But size doesn’t matter here, their outfits are reminiscent of royalty. If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed that they were both princesses. 

This village may not be rich, but the Hmong people still dress up for special occasions. The ethnic Hmong have endured a great deal of hardship over the years, but they are still very proud of their culture.