WHERE OLD WEAPONS GO TO DIE

An old tank rusts among mango trees near Siem Reap

It's sad but true, that a 500 lb bomb is not an uncommon sight in Southeast Asia. During my travels here, I've seen them used as door stops, and as decorations. They've even been disarmed, hollowed out, and reformed to use as bells for Buddhist temples. The heavy bomb before me standing on it’s end, has a long pole sticking straight up out the nose where the detonator used to be. Atop the pole, is a Cambodian flag. This old American bomb, has become a flagpole base.

“Your country have war?” one of the staff asks me as I look.

“Yeah,” I answer. “We have war.” 

Although my country now fights a war in Afghanistan, (where I worked as an aid worker) it occurs to me that our war is not fought at home, like happened here. The Afghanistan war is fought in a faraway land, while most at home in America go about their normal lives. But here in Cambodia, war engulfed the entire nation. Every family suffered terrible losses, and Cambodia would never be the same. The tools used to destroy Cambodia and its people surround me here, in the Military Museum near Siem Reap.

Old Chinese and Soviet armor, stripped of parts

Unlike the usual stuffy indoor museums, this is outdoors. Here in between the grass and leafy green trees, are brownish, rusting steel hulks of old military armored vehicles. These are from the cold war era, built in China or the former Soviet Union. There are numerous tanks and armored personnel carriers. Many are stripped of their parts. Without its wheels, one armored carrier looks more like an odd metal boat, rather than a threatening land vehicle.

Some of these heavy beasts had long histories. One Soviet made T-54 tank here was built in 1954. It was later given to North Vietnam; used during the war against the US and South Vietnamese armies. After that war, it was used by the Vietnamese Army when they invaded Cambodia. Next, it was given to the new Cambodian Army. Finally, it was damaged beyond repair by a Khmer Rouge landmine in 1994. Soviet built vehicles had a reputation for mechanical breakdowns, and somehow, this one remained in use for 40 years. That may be some kind of record for a Soviet built tank.

Some tanks here were used by several different armies

I climb onto another old armored carrier parked under a tree. It’s been thoroughly stripped, with the turret and all the hatches removed. I stick my head within for a look, and find many mango laden tree branches reaching inside. The fruit hang down through open steel hatches. So this place isn’t just a military museum, it’s also a mango orchard. 

As far as high tech weapons go, there's little here. There's only an old MiG jet, and a Russian built Mi-8 helicopter outside in the parking lot. But the fact is, most of the fighting in Cambodia took place on the ground, not in the air. It was just too expensive to use jets and helicopters in this dirt poor country.  

Unlike war museums that I've seen in Laos and Vietnam, this museum has no propaganda. It's simply lots of weapons, with simple, hand written captions. A notable example, is the caption for the only unarmored vehicle on display: a wooden wagon. The caption reads:

Old disarmed weapons from Cambodia's wars

“COW CART

Cow Cart used to transporte the

Ammunition Weapons by Khmer Rouge

Since 1970 ~ 1998”

Well, if your tanks or trucks ran out of gasoline, I suppose it’s better to have a cow cart than nothing.

Entering a shack, I'm surprised to find a wide range of assault rifles lying on a shelf in front of me. Gun fanatics would absolutely wet themselves here. There must be nearly 50 machine guns on hand. There are weapons made in Russia, China, USA, UK, and more. There's even an Israeli made Uzi. Some look relatively new, some look ancient, including World War II era guns. There is a Browning Automatic Rifle, and a Thompson submachine gun. Surprisingly, these aren’t in display cases, and there are no locks either. I pick up the Thompson, and feel it in my hands. This is the infamous 'Tommy' gun, preferred by American gangsters way back during prohibition. For a small machine gun, it’s surprisingly heavy.

Old Rocket Propelled Grenade Launchers (RPGs)

I pick up a Kalashnikov, with its signature curved ammunition clip. I remove the clip, and pop it back in. Unlike the others, this one isn’t so rusty, and the bolt still works. I pull back the bolt and release it. It's now cocked. I pull the trigger.

Click.

Dry fire. I’m surprised at how light the AK-47 is. The M-16 they have here is very light too. These deadly weapons are so much lighter and easier to handle than the older weapons. It's no wonder they were used by so many child soldiers in Southeast Asia before, and in Africa and the Middle East today. 

I have another sobering thought. With so much violence in Cambodia over the decades, there’s a good chance that many of these weapons here in front of me have killed people, including innocent civilians. 

Finally, they have rocket propelled grenade launchers, M-79 grenade launchers, and a heavier .30 caliber machine gun on a tripod. I’ve never seen such a wide variety of weapons, in such a small place. I notice there aren’t any pistols on display though; they would be too easy to steal. It would be more difficult to walk out the exit, with a Kalashnikov under your shirt. I notice two old red flags here too, from the hated Khmer Rouge. I wonder if they were captured in battle, or if they were turned in after the 1998 peace agreement.

Chinese terror weapon: 177 mm rockets

Walking outside, four long metal cylinders are sitting on small stands. They look like tank shells, but are even longer. These are Chinese made 107mm rockets. These can be launched without the use of any tube. As such, they're very inaccurate. Since these rarely hit any military target, they are principally a terror weapon. The Khmer Rouge used these to target civilian neighborhoods of Phnom Penh in 1975. They are still in use today. When I was in Afghanistan, the Taliban used them frequently, firing them at Kabul a few times a week. Just like here, they rarely hit anything military. It was the civilians who suffered casualties.

A couple of well manicured, grassy areas are more chilling. They are strewn with various types of anti-personnel mines, and unexploded mortar rounds. All these have been disarmed. This isn’t a realistic display of landmines though. Landmines are usually invisible to the naked eye, buried just beneath the surface. It’s only after stepping on them that their exact location is known, when an explosion is triggered. By then someone has lost a limb, or a life.

Nearby are disarmed landmines. Stack after stack, all brown with rust, these have been unburied from Cambodia's footpaths, roads and rice paddies. 

I find one positive thought, among all these weapons of destruction. None of these deadly weapons that I see here, will ever hurt anyone again.

Never, ever again.

Mangoes grow inside this defanged, disabled war weapon

HIDDEN WEAPONS AND LAST AMERICAN PIRATES

Lion Circle in beach town of Sihanoukville

Two giant golden lions, stand atop a great red pedestal, looking to the horizon. They are rather unique looking cats, with oblong shapes. Strangely, the male lion has a ball in his mouth, and wears large eyelashes, while the female lion next to him has none.

This is Lion Circle, a main traffic roundabout in Sihanoukville on Cambodia's south coast. A drunk Canadian recently crashed his scooter into this roundabout. He suffered serious head injuries, and lost a toes. Like other foreign tourists, he came here to enjoy the beaches, as Cambodia has few other beach town options. 

An odd thing about Sihanoukville is that it isn’t one town, it’s really four or five villages on a peninsula that have grown together. Too distant to visit on foot, I decide to rent a motorbike, strap on a helmet, and rev off to cruise the streets and beaches. 

Motoring around town, I notice there are few of the decaying French colonial homes like I'd seen in Phnom Penh. As Sihanoukville isn't an old town, most buildings were built recently. It wasn't always called Sihanoukville either; before the 1950's it was known as Kompong Som, then renamed after their beloved King Sihanouk. After he was kicked out of power in a coup, it was changed back to to Kompong Som. Then in the 1990’s, it was re-re-named Sihanoukville again. That's Cambodia.

Why does the male lion have eyelashes, and not the female?

Cruising the west end of town, I head along the coast. Passing a few small restaurants, I slow as I come to the port. Sihanoukville is Cambodia's only deep water port, first built in 1960 with French aid. Since the wars the port has gone through modernization. In the distance I can see large orange cargo cranes on the docks, though only two ships are docked today. This little port isn't much by global shipping standards, but Sihanoukville gave the US government major headaches during the Vietnam War era.

It was not well known at the time, but back in the 1960's, Sihanoukville played a key role in the communist war effort. Although publicly claiming neutrality, Sihanouk made a secret deal with North Vietnam. Starting in 1966, he allowed cargoes of communist weapons into this port. The weapons were then sent overland across the border to the Viet Cong, for use against American troops in South Vietnam. This route became known as the Sihanouk Trail, and by 1970 about 80% of the weapons for communist rebels in South Vietnam were passing through here. So much for Sihanouk's claim of neutrality. 

Aside from communist bribes, I wondered why Sihanouk agreed to allow this weapons pipeline. An accusation I heard from a bitter old Cambodian fighter that I met may explain it. He told me that Sihanouk cut a secret deal with Ho Chi Minh. Sihanouk agreed to allow North Vietnam to send troops and weapons across Cambodian soil, to infiltrate South Vietnam. In return, Ho Chi Minh promised Sihanouk that after North Vietnam had won the war in South Vietnam, he would give the Mekong Delta back to Cambodia. Years later, when Uncle Ho was on his deathbed, he told his comrades that after Vietnam was reunited, no matter what happened, they should never follow through on his promise. 

Port of Sihanoukville, former center of weapons smuggling (photo: Wikipedia)

This sleepy port of Sihanoukville was the scene of a rare 20th century act of piracy, and this also involved the USA. Today we tend to think of modern pirates as being from Somalia, but in this case, it was two American pirates! Even more surprising, is that the two hijacked an American ship!

March 14th of 1970 may have been the date for the world’s first known act of protest piracy. Two leftist American protesters who were against the Vietnam War, hijacked a 7,500 ton US freighter called the Columbia Eagle. The ship's cargo was $10 million in aircraft bombs, headed to a Thailand port. These bombs would later be sent onward to US bases, to be dropped on communist targets in Southeast Asia.

The Columbia Eagle, once hijacked by 2 American protest pirates. (Viet Arch photo)

The two hijackers were crewmen on the ship; Clyde McKay and Alvin Glatkowski, a pair of radicals from California. Using a bogus bomb threat to trick most of the crew onto lifeboats in the Gulf of Thailand (they were picked up later), they forced the captain at gunpoint to sail for Sihanoukville. On arrival, they asked for political asylum.

The plan of the pirate pair was quickly foiled, and the two radicals were jailed. Cambodian authorities allowed the ship to disembark soon after, with its lethal cargo intact. Later that year McKay, and a US Army deserter jailed with him named Larry Humphrey, managed to escape confinement in Phnom Penh. Then they disappeared. Some said that McKay ran away to join the Khmer Rouge, while others said that he settled as a farmer in eastern Cambodia.

Alvin Glatkowski's mugshot (photo: SDPD)

It would be many years before the outside world found out what happened to the ex-pirate and the deserter. Nearly two decades later, some of their buried teeth and fillings were recovered, by a mission team that was searching for the remains of missing US journalist Sean Flynn. Both McKay and Humphrey had been executed in 1971 by the Khmer Rouge, in the town of Boi Met. Given the violence of the Khmer Rouge era, their fate was predictable.

For Glatkowski’s part, he had his own ordeal to survive. He spent time in a Cambodian mental institution. He asked the Soviet Union for political asylum, but was denied. With nowhere else to go, he turned himself in to the US Embassy. He was flown back to the US, where he spent five years in prison. 

His story was no 'Pirates of the Caribbean' fable, but at least he lived to tell the tale.

BIZARRE FOOD, GUNS FOR ART

Elephant walking on Phnom Penh's riverfront

As Phnom Penh’s main riverfront street, Sisowath Quay certainly has character. Besides the occasional passing elephant, I’ve encountered sights that you'd never expect to see in any capital city.

One morning on a downtown bus, I saw a macaque monkey calmly making his way crossing this busy downtown street! He crossed the road by walking along an overhead powerline, like it was a vine in the jungle. Well, that’s one way to avoid the heavy traffic.

Other animals found on Sisowath Quay are not live, but served for lunch! Riverfront food covers a very wide range of tastes, including the bizarre. Today I look at a street vendor's food, and to my surprise she's selling fried frogs! Not frog legs, but whole fried frogs! Smaller than the average frog, these munchables can be yours for only 24 cents a piece.

As frogs are not to my taste, I keep looking. In another bowl, she’s selling fried spiders! These are also fried whole, and they look like tarantulas. Another day I saw a street vendor selling fried snakes! They were cooked whole, and each snake was curled up, as if it was hibernating.

Local street food in Phnom Penh includes fried snakes!

Although most river front restaurants have menus with normal fare, some have equally bizarre food items. Right down the street, are a string of ‘pot pizza’ restaurants. No kidding. They have names like ‘Happy Herb Pizza’. 

I've never tried any of these pizzas sprinkled with marijuana, the only mind altering thing I consume is beer. Locals don't eat there much either, but I did meet some American university students who had tried the 'happy' pizza. They left disappointed; none of them felt stoned. The joke was on them, they probably had been served pizza with oregano.

As there are more reputable restaurants on the river side, I enter a doorway down the block, and walk upstairs to what locals call, 'FCC'. This is the Foreign Correspondents Club of Cambodia. An open air colonial style restaurant, it overlooks the Bassac River from its rooftop terrace. A horseshoe shaped bar has ceiling fans overhead. News photos line the walls, dating back to Cambodia's war years.

Would you like some fried insects to snack on?

I've worked with journalists in years past, so I occasionally eat here for nostalgia. Renovated in 1992 by a Hong Kong company, it’s now open to the public. Foreign reporters are rare in Cambodia these days. With no more war here, war correspondents are off in Afghanistan or Iraq. Journos in town today prefer a bar where power players go, like the Elephant Bar. 

The FCC's clientele tonight is mostly backpackers and businessmen, with a diplomat and deminer mixed in with the locals. The lack of windows means there are also many uninvited 'airborne' guests. I hear one patron say, “If you’re going to drink at the FCC, you have to be willing to take insects out of your beer!”

The fact that this 'Foreign Correspondents Club' isn't really for journalists is fitting for Cambodia, as there isn't a free press here anymore. Prime Minister Hun Sen gives only lip service to free speech, and freedom of the press. The fact is, he's Ex-Khmer Rouge - he's been slowly clamping down on press freedoms for years.

Restaurant sign, made from cut-up AK-47 assault rifles!

A recent Phnom Penh headline, detailed how a local newspaper publisher had been accused of 'defamation' by the Cambodian government. His offence: publishing three articles uncovering corruption by officials working for Deputy Prime Minister Sok An. Soon after, a public statement given by 21 rights groups said those defamation charges were a ‘threat to journalists’.

Nearby down the riverfront, is another odd eatery, the Mexican themed, 'Cantina'. I ate there another night with an American friend. That evening I didn't find the decor impressive, until I saw the restaurant’s sign on the wall. Made by some artist, the words ‘Cantina’ had been made out of dark, twisted metalwork. Looking closer, I couldn't believe what I saw! I got up, and approached the sign to make sure.

Clock made from cut-up Kalashnikov rifles!

All the letters on the sign were made from cut up assault rifles! The artist took those AK-47's, sliced them to pieces, bent them into shape, and welded them together to form each metal letter.

Looking to another wall I found a clock, made of the same deadly Kalashnikov rifle material. For the first time during my Southeast Asia travels, I finally saw guns put to good use.

Although disarmament after the Cambodia's wars was extensive, it's still common to see AK-47's carried by local police. A Kalashnikov is more firepower than they need, but they also use them for economic reasons. With many thousands of AK-47's left over when the wars ended, it was much cheaper for the government to convert them from military to police use, rather than to spend millions of dollars buying new pistols for every police station in the country.

Thankfully, guns are not often used here, and murder and armed robbery are rare. But like in Vietnam, purse snatchings are common. An English teacher friend, was a victim of the worst kind of purse snatching. One Sunday she left a church service, when two men on a motorbike approached her from behind. When they grabbed her bag, she tried to let go of her purse, but couldn’t, as the strap was wrapped around her shoulder. She was dragged more than 100 feet down the street. She suffered serious abrasions, and had to go to the hospital to recover.

As terrible as that incident was for her, Cambodia's crime rate is still far lower than in the USA, especially for violent crime. Culturally Khmers are not confrontational people, and don't resort to violence as quickly as Americans these days. Thankfully, it looks like Cambodia's era of violence is behind them.

MARKET MAZE IN CAMBODIA

Downtown market in Phnom Penh: an assault on the senses

This place has the air of a Hong Kong action flick.

It’s dark, cramped, hot and steamy. Countless shop stalls are crowded together, one after the other in a dimly lit maze. As I walk narrow passageways, I have to keep ducking down to avoid striking my head on overhead beams. A lady vendor I pass points to my head, and then to the low ceiling. She smiles, and her neighbor laughs at me: a tall, out of place foreigner.

I'm in Kandal Market, a Khmer market in downtown Phnom Penh. This is no tourist market either, it’s locals that throng here. Not surprisingly I'm getting curious looks, as few foreigners venture into this maze. Unlike Americans, most Khmers stay away from supermarkets. They find their food cheaper, and fresher, in neighborhood markets like these.

For a westerner, a walk through this Southeast Asian market is an assault on the senses. The biggest assault is the smell. With rotted food on the ground, poor drainage, and little ventilation, it takes some getting used to if you want to walk through it without holding holding your nose. The odors are even worse after it rains.

The colors on the other hand, are the most pleasant. Despite the lack of hygiene, these are still the freshest fruits and vegetables in the city. After properly washing and cooking your purchases at home, this can be one of the best meals you’ve ever had at such a cheap price.

Dark market interior, with makeshift roof

The stalls are beyond cramped, they're packed together in claustrophic conditions. Still you have to admit, there's a real energy about it, you can almost feel it in the air. With the tight quarters, some fear pickpockets, but that’s reasonably rare. Armed robbery is even more rare. For one thing, most of the shoppers, and the shopkeepers, are women. They all look out for each other as well.

There is no single rooftop covering this market. Overhead the roof is as chaotic as the layout of booths below. It’s a patchwork of corrugated metal, plastic sheeting, and different colored tarps stretched every which way. Some gaps are filled with cardboard. Old tires lie atop some sections to keep them in place.

A strange sight in the market are miniature beauty salons. These have a chair or two, or sometimes just a stool. Like ladies anywhere, Khmer women want to look good. For women that can’t afford a real beauty salon, they come here, to these tiny beauty booths.

Walking on, I pass a line of seamstress booths. It's rather dim; there are no electric lights. Somehow even in this dim light they are able to make dresses. Their sewing machines are not electric either, but powered by old fashioned foot pedals. These skilled ladies make dresses as though this is 100 years in the past.

I pass a foursome of ladies seated around a tiny table, playing cards. One is simultaneously having a pedicure done. I recognize these ladies from their work in the food stalls, and with lunchtime over, they have some time to relax.

There is plenty of clothing for sale, mobile phones, and pirated music, but most shoppers are here for the food. As this is Cambodia, you'll find food here you'll never see in your local supermarket. There are freshly fried bananas, and fried frogs. Some regions of Cambodia are known for fried spiders, but I don't see any today. There's fresh fish from the Mekong, and saltwater fish brought from the coast. Another passageway sells incense and fresh flowers, next to a fortune teller.

Some stalls sell durian. For those not familiar with it, durian is the most 'aromatic' fruit in Southeast Asia, and not in a good way. You can usually smell durian before you see it, even when it’s still growing on the tree. It has a rather nasty ammonia like smell. Cut it open, and it gets even worse. It took me years to gather up the courage to finally taste durian for myself. Surprisingly, that horrid smell does not match the taste, which is reasonably pleasant.

Live chickens for sale, tied together by their feet

There is also live poultry for sale. Several stalls sell chicken, available three ways: cooked whole, plucked but not cooked, and live. At one stall, a chicken butcher is cutting the chickens necks, and draining their blood. Beside him, another vendor takes groups of the freshly slaughtered chickens by the feet, and puts them in large pots of boiling water for a couple minutes. This makes it easier to pluck their feathers.

I've spent time on farms before, but I've never seen live chickens treated like this. I’m surprised to see numerous live chickens not in cages, but lying in piles on the ground or on tables, lumped together. At first I wonder why they don’t get up and walk away, until I see that all the chickens are bound around their ankles, three of them tied together. Unfortunately, it’s the lack of hygiene and unsafe handling practices in Asian markets much like this, that led to the spread of bird flu to humans.

Further on, tiny restaurants and food stalls are packed tightly together. Customers sit on small plastic chairs around metal topped tables. Cooking over electric burners, charcoal stoves, and even over open fires, they serve up Khmer food, such as fried rice, plantains and chicken. With conditions so cramped here, the market is a bit of a firetrap, as some Southeast Asian markets are. Years back in Hanoi, there had been a market fire disaster in 1994 that killed five people.

Not long ago, some Cambodian markets sold weapons. AK-47s, pistols, even grenade launchers were available with the right connections. Fortunately, those booths have been closed. With increased police enforcement, (corrupt as they are) and with successful disarmament programs, most weapons are finally off the market.

Heading home, I find piles of garbage from the market covering nearly the width of a nearby street! There's only a narrow path through the middle to walk through, as the city has yet to implement timely trash collection. Much of the garbage dumped here is organic, and the stench is overpowering. A Khmer with a deadened sense of smell is standing in the middle, picking up trash with a pitchfork. He tosses it high into a commercial garbage bin, which isn't big enough. Not 20 feet away from this mess, an ice vendor cuts through a large block of ice, and sells it to a customer. (Now I know why I was sick after drinking an iced drink in a cheap local restaurant.)

Walking by these markets at night is eerie, as there's little light. One night I saw how local market security works: to keep their sales items safe from theft, some vendors pull a tarp over their tables, and sleep on top of their goods. The usual scavengers also slink about: RATS! Rodents are common around the market at night, and with so much discarded food around, rats grow big here. I've seen some as big as cats. Worse, at night they have a nasty habit of running right in front of your path, or around your feet, as you walk by their hiding places.

Hoping to keep rodents as far from me as possible, I developed my own rat alarm to warn them away. Whenever I walked by the market in the evening, or down narrow alleys, I simply clapped my hands loudly. After doing this, I often saw rats scurrying away ahead of me, before I became uncomfortably close. I swear by this method.

FOREIGNER HITS ROCK BOTTOM IN PHNOM PENH

I awaken in the “Indochine 2”, a curious name for a hotel, since nobody refers to Southeast Asia as Indochina anymore. It’s a comfortable place in downtown Phnom Penh, easy on the wallet, and only a block from the Tonle Sap River.

Decaying downtown building where 'Broken Bricks' was located

It’s a lovely day outside, and I check out the scenery outside my window. Pulling back the curtains, my entire view is taken up by a large old French colonial across the street. This was once a beautiful building, but no longer. The French shutters, detailed ironwork, and stylish balconies are all seriously decayed. Many windows are broken. The faded yellow structure is mostly abandoned. Except for one apartment holdout and a cheap ground floor restaurant, this old shell sits dark and empty.

The humble little restaurant has a history of its own. It used to be a bar with a rather unusual name: “Broken Bricks”. The former owner of this bar spent years in Phnom Penh, and his story is worth telling.

'Steven' was from England, and first came to Cambodia back in the 1990’s, a time when Cambodia was even more lawless than it is now. Steven liked to party, and he fell in love with the place. He also fell in love with a local Khmer woman, and they eventually married.

One tragic day, a grenade was thrown at the house of his neighbor. It exploded outside, and a piece of shrapnel penetrated his home, and struck his wife, killing her. Attacks such as this to settle scores were common here in those days. Predictably for Cambodia, the killer was never caught.

Despite this tragedy, Steven didn’t leave Cambodia. He still liked the place, and he opened a bar known as the “Peace Bar”. His establishment became very popular with the expatriate community, and for some time business went very well.

Steven also began his own personal program of disarmament in the city. Back then there were many machine guns and other weapons left over from the war, that were now in private hands. As the weeks passed, Steven found himself in possession of a sizable cache of small arms. Then the Khmer police found out about it. His storage room was raided, and all the weapons confiscated. Steven was arrested. Eventually, after a great deal of explaining, he was released. The police kept the weapons.

Of course, Steven was no weapons dealer. He was planning on hauling all the guns out to an open field, dumping them in a pile, pouring on gasoline, and setting them all ablaze. (This had been done with other disarmament programs.) He just hadn’t gotten around to the bonfire part yet.

As years went by, it became apparent to Steven’s friends that he was enjoying himself far too much. By this time, he had become a drug addict.

“Too much ‘yaba’, one of his Kiwi friends said, referring to the local slang word for crystal methamphetamine.

Trying to stay in the bar business, he opened “Broken Bricks” in this dilapidated building across the street from me now. But this bar was very small, and business faltered. His Kiwi friend complained that when he stopped at the bar for a drink, they didn’t even have any beer.

Then one night, things finally went too far. While working at Broken Bricks, an argument with his Cambodian waitress escalated into violence. The fight escalated, and eventually his angry Cambodian neighbors jumped into the fray. If this angry mob hadn’t been stopped, they would probably have beaten Steven to death. But he was pulled from the melee by acquaintances and the police. He was arrested, and finally put in jail.

Upon examining his passport, police discovered that his visa had expired years ago. Since he was an almost broke drug addict by this time, he didn’t have the money to pay a lawyer to try and get him out of this legal mess. After a month in jail, his remaining foreign friends in Phnom Penh took up a collection. His ‘fines’ were paid, and they bought him a one way ticket back to England. He was then deported. Last heard, he was wandering the streets of Birmingham.

Steven’s story is not unique. There are occasionally foreigners who come to Cambodia, and they get completely caught up in a free for all of excess. They party far too much, they stay far longer than they should, and sooner or later, they hit rock bottom. Some of them are now in prison. Others end up dead from drug overdoses.

A cautionary tale, he is one that got out alive.

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. 

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. 

WEAPONS, CRATERS AND MISSING IN ACTION

Unexploded bombs from the war guard the entrance to 'Craters Restaurant'

A pair of 750 pound bombs are standing upright, on either side of the restaurant stairs I’m approaching. They look like two short, fat, metallic pillars, not dangerous explosives. Beyond them, twin 500 pound bombs are guard the entrance. These bizarre decorations are a permanent part of this establishment; all four of these old weapons of destruction have been cemented into the floor. You couldn’t tip them over if you wanted to. 

This is 'Crater’s Restaurant' in Phonsavan in northern Laos, and I’ve stopped in for dinner. After ordering a dish of noodles, I look around at the unusual décor. Like so many other places in town, it is adorned with the martial refuse from the warring past. 

It’s not just American bombs on display either, decorating the walls inside are a pair of ancient, long barreled rifles, along with an old crossbow. A traditional weapon of the Hmong, crossbows are still used for hunting in this region. The single shot rifles look ancient. These old weapons were the only arms used on the Plain of Jars, until the French, North Vietnamese and Americans showed up. As simple folk from primitive highland cultures, the Hmong were forced to fight in a very modern war. 

Old traditional Hmong weapons mounted on the wall

Against the back wall are a pair of small Buddhist statues, with offerings and incense placed in front of them. They are dwarfed by another old disarmed artillery shell sitting right alongside. It escapes me as to why they would leave a symbol of destruction, right next to a peaceful Buddhist shrine. 

With business slow tonight, the owner’s family is watching a Vietnamese television show, since this dining room also makes up their living space. On the old TV, a Vietnamese chanteuse belts out an American love song. Yes, times here are changing. 

US Recovery team heads for MIA excavation site in Laos. (Photo: JPAC - Press Center)

I hear a familiar accent; turning to a nearby table I notice two casually dressed westerners. Few Americans come to this remote corner of Laos, I wonder, what are these two men doing here? They both have short haircuts, and a serious look about them. Striking up a conversation, I’m surprised to learn that both of them are not only American, but they are also currently serving in the US military!  American soldiers are the last people I expected to find here in Phonsavan, or anywhere in Laos. 

They aren’t in uniform, but they are here to work. Their purpose on the Plain of Jars, is to search for the remains of American military men who are still ‘Missing In Action’ from the war. These two soldiers are on a mission to locate the bones of MIA’s. 

During the fighting here, most Americans involved in the war effort took part in aerial missions, so those still missing on the Plain of Jars were usually involved in aircraft crashes. Hundreds of US Air Force jets, CIA planes and helicopters crashed all over Laos during the long years of conflict from the 1960’s to 1970’s. 

“We have 170 digging sites identified,” one of the anonymous soldiers tells me. Most of the searching is done on old crash sites, and it’s only in recent years that these American investigators were allowed access to these sites to look for remains.

Why put an explosive next to a Buddhist shrine?

Locating the old crash sites has been a difficult task. Many aircraft crashed in remote mountains, where wreckage and pilot remains were gradually covered over by jungle growth. As for aircraft that crashed in more accessible areas, the broken wreckage that marked the sites was often carted away by locals and sold for scrap years ago. When crash sites are found today, search teams have to look for bones of pilots and crewmen by digging and excavating. 

These two investigators are currently excavating a crash site outside Phonsavan. In this case, it was the site of a small spotter plane known as a ‘Raven’, that had had an airborne collision with an F-4 fighter jet. They were searching the site for the pilot’s remains. 

“It’s a combination of archaeology, anthropology, and forensics,” the younger soldier tells me. As opposed to the over-simplified forensics work portrayed on popular American TV shows, actual forensics work done on these crash sites is meticulous, time consuming work. 

Working in the distant countryside, the search team had to get permission to excavate crash sites not only from the Laotian government, but also from hill tribe leaders in remote villages. 

“When we work in the villages, they are way out,” the soldier tells me. “They’re Animists. We have to sacrifice an animal so as to not upset the spirits (before digging begins.) It’s usually a cow. They pick it, and it’s always something expensive." 

As part of the process, local men are taught excavation skills, and employed to work alongside investigators. Grids are carefully layed out, and digging begins. If aircraft parts are found, the part types and serial numbers are matched to missing aircraft. Great care is taken not to miss any small bone fragments, often the only human remains left after a high speed crash. If few bones are present, dog tags found at the site can help verify that the missing pilot died at the scene. 

Hundreds of Americans remain missing in the mountains of Laos

The process of searching for America’s missing soldiers is slow, but progress is being made. The younger soldier was excited about their recent discovery of a finger bone at one digging site. The bone is being sent back to a Hawaii military lab where the remains missing in action soldiers are processed. There they will test the bone to see if it’s human. If it is, they will proceed to DNA testing, and compare results with DNA samples taken from families of soldiers still classified as MIA. Hopefully a match will be found, and the family of the missing pilot will finally receive closure. 

As for the Laotians, many of them are puzzled as to why the Americans would go to so much trouble, and spend so much money, to find a few bones from soldiers who died more than three decades ago. Much like Vietnam, the Laotian government has neither the money to search for their missing war dead, nor the technical ability to conduct DNA testing. Hundreds of thousands of Asians who remain missing from the wars in Southeast Asia, will never be found or identified. Their families know their loved ones died during the war, but they will never have a grave to mourn over, and closure eludes them.  

There are still 308 American servicemen classified as missing in action from the war in Laos. With so many crash sites yet to excavate, the MIA search teams will be working in the remote mountains of Laos for years to come.