The heart of the Pathet Lao - July 30, 2007

The conflict in Laos is often referred to as the "Secret War," largely because the U.S. involvement was such a highly classified operation throughout its duration from 1964 to 1973. But it could also easily be called the "forgotten war." There are no iconic photographs of children escaping napalm attacks or Hollywood directors excoriating their guilt on celluloid. Even in Cambodia, the atrocities of the Khmer Rouge have been well documented -- walk into any bookstore or souvenir shop, and you'll see shelves of firsthand survivor accounts and historians contemplating the evil of Pol Pot. In Laos, I would be hard pressed to find books of any kind that talked about the Lao experience during their war.

Yet, the recent history of Laos is fascinating in its own right -- a battleground of ideologies, a small pawn within a larger worldwide struggle between superpowers, the sheer firepower unleashed on the Lao people. I decided to go to the heart of the story by traveling to Viengxai near the Vietnam border and the site of hundreds of caves that were home to the revolutionary forces of the Communist Pathet Lao during the war.

As the U.S. carpet-bombing intensified over eastern Laos, the Pathet Lao moved into the caves, which were almost impossible to reach from the air. With up to 20,000 people living in the caves, an underground community sprung up -- school, a hospital staffed by Cuban doctors, market, print shop for publishing Communist propaganda. Here is the concert hall in which they held rallies, plays and other forms of entertainment -- often from Vietnam, Cuba and China in a show of Communist solidarity -- to boost morale.



The caves were also the base from which the Pathet Lao conducted the war and planned the future of Communist Lao - the top military officials all had their homes in the caves, including Kaysone, Lao's venerated hero and leader. As we walked through the Politburo meeting room, I tried to imagine the passionate debates and intense strategizing that took place here almost 40 years ago.

Finally, we climbed up to the artillery cave which provided a sweeping view of the skyline over the western mountains. Men with anti-aircraft missiles were positioned in the caves, but it was also the site from which they could signal the first alarm - a loud siren -- of incoming airplanes, sending the 20,000 inhabitants scrambling into the caves. I wonder what nine years of constant aerial bombardment and the accompanying panic and fear does to your psyche? Now, the view from the artillery cave is an idyllic green meadow, quiet with water buffalo and cows grazing.