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. 

RAINING ON THE RED PRINCE

I'll have a Coca- cola to go... in a bag??

A double rainbow, what a rare sight. Having just left my guesthouse, I’ve stepped out into the quiet afternoon streets of Luang Prabang, Laos. I’ve seen the colorful phenomena of twin arches only a few times in my life. I feel a good day ahead of me; I turn and head towards the Mekong River. 

On my way, the precipitation that brought the rainbows returns, and the clouds loosen into a steady rain. I quicken my steps, and take shelter in a small roadside drink stand. It’s not much; tables and benches are made of scrap lumber. But it’s dry inside, and with the rain turning into a deluge, I stay for a while. I’m not that worried about the downpour; most monsoon showers don’t last very long. Besides, I prefer the rainy season here in Luang Prabang. In the dry season, the air here is terrible. Since local farmers still practice slash and burn agriculture, the air becomes filled with acrid smoke from burnt brush, with the skies always hazy. I’ll take the rainy season, thank you. 

The lady vendor in this drink stand doesn’t speak English, but I make do with hand motions and order a soda. Reaching into an ice cooler, she removes a glass bottle of cola. But instead of handing it to me, she opens it and pours the contents into a clear plastic bag! After inserting a straw, she seals the bag's top with a rubber band. 

I had forgotten about this little ritual. This is the usual Southeast Asian manner of dispensing a soda to go. By doing it this way, she keeps the glass bottle to return for deposit. 

A tribute to the 'Red Prince' on his 100th birthday... but where are the crowds??

Soon the rain relents, and I resume my walk along Luang Prabang’s red brick sidewalks. Despite wet streets, this is a great place for a stroll. The scenic town has well preserved French villas, friendly folks, and a laid back lifestyle. As the former capital, it retains some of the old allure that the rest of Southeast Asia has lost.

While wandering the streets, I chance upon a statue and park dedicated to President Souphanouvong, a.k.a. the 'Red Prince'. It’s a new looking park, and it appears that I’ve just missed some kind of public event. There are fresh flowers and colorful ribbons strung about everywhere. Perhaps the rain chased everyone away. 

An impressive display of old photographs depicts Souphanouvong’s career as a communist. A new billboard bears the likeness of the former Prez, and lists his birthday, which is today. He died years ago but by coincidence, I found his memorial park on what would have been the Red Prince’s 100th birthday.

The ex - President, with frozen applause

That explains all the decorations. I have arrived here just after an official government ceremony commemorating his birth. I look up at his brown likeness, and it’s an odd pose for a statue. The Red Prince seems to be frozen in the midst of applauding. Yet he applauds alone. On his centennial anniversary, I am now the only person in the entire memorial park. If his well wishers left due to the rain, nobody has returned. 

Government officials were here for the ceremony, but with their departure, there are no other Laotians here paying tribute to his memory, fans or otherwise.

I saw far more people visiting the royal palace of his cousin, the king, that Souphanouvong had helped his communist comrades to depose. 

Apparently people have a lot more interest in old kings, than they do in old communists. 

PRESIDENT'S UNDERGROUND COMMAND CENTER

Military maps line the walls of the underground command center below the former Presidential Palace

It’s so quiet down here and empty. Lonely even. As far as I can tell, I’m the only one down here. I’m below ground, only this time I’m under Saigon's former Presidential Palace. I’m in what used to be the most technologically advanced basement in all of Vietnam. More than a basement, I’m in an underground military command center.

It’s late in the afternoon, and the other visitors have left, so I have the entire lower level all to myself, and it's eerie. I’m in the command room where maps line the dark red walls. The huge maps reach from the floor to the ceiling. There are even more maps down here, than there were outside the president’s office a few levels above me. In a military command center, field communications are crucial. That takes a lot of electronics equipment, so most of the rooms down in this maze are devoted to communications. Much of the old American made equipment still remains, although all the cables are gone. In room after room, I find transmitters, teletype machines, receivers, switchboards, and old rotary phones. Signs in imperfect English list the former function of each room: “THE SIGNAL TEAM CHIEF ROOM”, “FIXED RECEIVING SITE SECTION”, “TELETYPEWRITER SECTION”, and “THE HIGHFREQUENCY RADIO ROOM”. 

Once buzzing with military activity, the President's command center is now eerily empty

Farther down a hallway, I enter a small room with only a twin bed, and two phones on a night table. It’s nothing special; only the elaborate wood frame of the bed gives a hint of its former importance. The sign reads, “THE COMBAT DUTY BEDROOM OF THE PRESIDENT”. Thieu may have slept down here during the Tet offensive when the palace was briefly under attack, but he was long gone before the tanks arrived in 1975.

Captured US made radio equipment is still found in many rooms

Down the hall near the kitchen, I get to a nearly bare white walled room. It’s been emptied of its contents, leaving only a desk, chair, and an empty gun rack for M-16s. This was the “SECURITY SECTION” for the president’s guards. An elite group, the guards even had an indoor shooting range in the back of the palace to keep their shooting skills sharp. During Thieu’s years in power, his security team protected him well for most of the war years. But when the communist tanks finally invaded the city and broke through the front gates, they put up no resistance at all. With the palace captured, the remaining loyal palace staff and guards were arrested, with most were sent off to ‘re-education camps’. They joined hundreds of thousands of South Vietnamese soldiers and government officials in the camps, some never to return. 

Old Motorola radio gear, originally given to South Vietnam as aid from the USA

Even though I’m below ground level in this bunker basement, I come across stairs going further underground. Access is blocked here, but I can’t help wondering if this is the escape tunnel going to the former Deputy Governor’s Palace, where the former dictator Diem hid before he was killed in the 1963 coup. As curious as I am, I go no further. I’ve heard that section of tunnel isn’t safe anymore. Plus, as an American in Vietnam, I wouldn’t expect much leniency if I was caught in a restricted area. I really don’t want to spend time in a Vietnamese jail.

Having already seen the lowest level of the palace, I decide to go see the highest. After climbing a few flights of stairs in dingy stairwells, I find myself up on the palace rooftop. As I reach the top level, I’m startled to find myself on a large covered terrace, that was once used for official receptions. A riser to one side of the terrace must have been used for live bands. Perhaps President Thieu and his wife once waltzed across this fine wooden floor, as ministers and honored guests looked on. With more interest in the surrounding scenery, I open the clear glass doors, and step across to the back railing.

On the adjacent rooftop below, I’m surprised to see another Huey helicopter parked there, marked with the flag of South Vietnam. Back in the day, President Thieu used to fly around to the provinces by chopper, meeting politicians, and rallying the troops. With the war on, flying around the country was much safer for him than driving.

Rooftop of the Palace. A Huey chopper once flew President Thieu around South Vietnam. A red circle marks an old bomb strike from 1975.

From this same vantage point, I can see the sight of the second airborne attack on this locale. In the spring of 1975 as the ARVN defenses were crumbling, a South Vietnamese pilot decided to defect to the communists. He took off in his US built F-5 jet, and before heading north, he unleashed two bombs onto the rear section of the palace, where the president’s living quarters were. Out in front of the parked Huey, two large circles have been painted on the repaired rooftop, marking the bomb strikes from the pilot’s asassination attempt. A large piece of rusty bomb shrapnel lies close by. Since the palace had been built strong enough to survive an attack, no one was killed, but it was another propaganda victory for the communists. With an audacious attack on the palace, it was becoming evident that the end was near.

US made F-5 fighter that was flown by defector to bomb the Palace shortly before the war ended

Walking to the opposite rooftop railing, I look down on the front lawn. When the final push came weeks later and the NVA tanks broke through the front gates, the tank crewman scrambled out of their armored vehicles and ran right into the palace. Encountering no resistance, one of the crewman ran all the way up the stairwell to the roof, and stood at the railing where I am now. As TV news cameras rolled, he then waved a Viet Cong flag from the rooftop, for all of the world to see. The communists had taken the palace, and the war was done. Looking around me, I’m amazed to see that there is no plaque up here to mark the event.

For some time after the surrender, the former Independence Palace became a government office building. For a while it was officially named the “Office of the Military Management Committee of Saigon”. A giant portrait of Ho, two stories tall, hung above the front entrance. That portrait has since been removed, perhaps because the current government has become less dogmatic. Still, there is a flag flying from the palace rooftop today, only now it’s the flag of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. 

View from atop the Palace, from the exact spot where a North Vietnamese soldier waved a Viet Cong flag to signal the end of the war.

 

DICTATOR'S LAIR

French tile in a bunker??

I enter a hidden passageway, and walk down dimly lit, gloomy grey steps. I’m descending into a deep, damp, underground hideaway.

Reaching the lower level, I walk down a quiet corridor. Walking alone, the only sound I here are my own footsteps. Looking down I’m surprised to see checkered French tile beneath my feet. Small fancy light fixtures are spaced evenly along plain white walls.

No money behind this bank door

The underground corridor leads me to a strong steel door. A wheel in the door’s center turns to lock it at four points, much like a bank safe. Stepping through, I walk deeper inside this hidden hideout, and the room opens up. I’m startled to find elegant, handmade wooden furniture. It’s a sitting room. Obviously this underground bunker with fancy furnishings wasn’t made for your usual cave dweller. This was made for a president. Or a dictator.

As the country turned against him, Diem hid down here

These tunnels were one of the last refuges of Ngo Dinh Diem, the former dictator/president of South Vietnam (aka Republic of Vietnam) who ruled after the departure of the French colonials. Atop these tunnels, is a rather drab French colonial structure that was once home to the Deputy Governor. When Diem took over from the French, he became the Catholic leader of a predominantly Buddhist country. Together with his brother, Ngo Dinh Nhu, they ruled the south with an iron fist. Corrupt and staunchly anti-communist, they oppressed, imprisoned or killed just about anyone who opposed them, whether they were communists, or Buddhists.

Diem survived a coup attempt in 1962 when his main office and residence, the nearby Independence Palace, was bombed by his own air force! Soon after that attack, the old building above me became Diem’s headquarters. In recent years it became the Museum of Ho Chi Minh City, but what’s most interesting here, is what they built beneath when Diem moved in.

Old Independence Palace, damaged from the coup attempt. (Museum photo)

When the strongman Diem moved his offices here, there were so many people who wanted him dead, that he ordered these tunnels built for his safety. They constructed six rooms in total, with one branch of these tunnels going all the way underground to Independence Palace. I’d love to see it, but that section is now flooded, and no longer in use. Diem wisely felt he needed the tunnels to escape, in case there was another coup attempt. It wasn’t long before he needed them. Less than two months after the tunnels were completed in 1963, there was another coup and Diem and his brother took shelter down here in these very tunnels.

Leaving the sitting room, I continue down the passageway. I discover it ends inside a blockhouse, complete with gun slits. Another steel door opens up to the outdoors. Climbing the steps outside, I find myself standing in the garden, behind the former palace. When Diem escaped these tunnels years ago, he fled to the other side of Saigon, taking shelter in a church in Cholon. Unable to garner any support to keep him in power, he finally surrendered. ARVN soldiers came and arrested him and his brother, and placed them inside an armored personnel carrier. As they drove them back into town, the two were shot and stabbed to death inside the vehicle. The coup was over.

Tunnels end in a garden blockhouse, complete with gun slits.

When the public learned that the two most feared and despised men in all of South Vietnam were dead, Saigon’s streets erupted in celebration. Human rights organizations cheered. Political prisoners were released. There was new hope for the fledgling nation, and the future looked bright.

But the success of the coup did not mean the beginning of stable government. In the next couple of years a series of power hungry generals and inept politicians ruled South Vietnam, and effective government remained elusive. The war in Vietnam would continue.