Ban Ban, Laos– In the early morning hours, with the flashes from distant artillery still lighting up the darkened sky, my guide Chau took a sip from his canteen and offered it to me, saying “Yes, have some.” That was just what I needed, the ever popular Hmong confection of gin and powdered pumpkin mix. On a night like this, it tasted sweeter than any drink I’ve ever imbibed. Chau smiled and took another swig before strapping the canteen back to his worn combat webbing. Looking into the hills, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Listen” he implored me “Do you smell something.” His laughter was infectious and for a moment I forgot about the death all around us.
In covering this hellish war, I’ve been all over; from the frigid wastes of Antarctica, to the nightmare jungles of Madagascar, the endless plains of Siberia, the humid brothels of Sao Paolo and the molten swamps of Palauan. Now, here I was in the hills of Laos, overlooking an expanse of rice paddies, on what everyone hoped would be the last day of the war. During the difficult travels and the cacophonous battles, I met people of every nation and station, people whose bravery, intelligence, audacity and courage never ceased to amaze me.
The Laotian guerrillas here in Ban Ban reminded me of Tennyson’s old Light Brigade; for here they were, calm and serene and ready once again to charge into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell. My companions this night weren’t professional soldiers. They were ordinary brick layers and taxidermists, fighting the Bad Guy invaders. The Bad Guys who had decided that their final stand would be made here in the hills outside Ban Ban, in their multihued Kevlar skirts and camouflaged, impact resistant polo shirts.
During the last eight weeks, the Laotian guerrillas kept up to date on the events bringing the war closer, and closer, and closer; inching, creeping, sometimes spurting towards their homeland: a communist Chinese satellite state in the stagnant and hilly jungles of South East Asia. On their blogs and web boards they posted their feelings, their hopes and fears and belief that victory would come soon. But also, surprisingly, were well-aware of the latest Hollywood gossip, and were attempting to find companionship and love. All the while they prepared and planned, went on patrols and passed vital intelligence information on to the Good Guys, via email and also via updates to their guerrilla homepage.
As Field Marshal Cleruchy’s Third Army chased the bad guys from Madagascar, to Sri Lanka and Thailand, the Laotian guerrillas trained and readied their supply caches, weapons and equipment. At a stop in Singapore, I heard much criticism of Cleruchy’s decision not to nuke the dilapidated dregs of the Bad Guys. In the brief time I had to speak with him, I asked Cleruchy what he felt of such criticism. Due to his deafness he had not heard it until I mentioned it and so pulled out his service weapon and eyed it significantly. He then ended the interview by offering me assorted local confections.
While the G.G. Battle Group Aleph made mincemeat of the Bad Guy’s remaining fleet, the heroic Hmong guerrillas set charges at key bridges, cut communication lines and trained monkeys to throw grenades. And as the Russo-Belgio-Sino-Algerian 9th Army sped down from the Pole, those stuck behind the lines in Laos tried to survive the best they could, tried to eat and drink and be merry and always prayed to Lenin, their false communist god.
Word around Ban Ban has it that the remnants of the B.G. Army are in horrible shape. Surrounded, ill-equipped and constantly battling disease, hunger and Laotians, the Bad Guys are in a sorry state. Morale is low and supplies of ammunition and cupcakes are even lower. Still they will fight on. Even as the Good Guy forces surrounded them like a three pincered tiger, they prepare for the final showdown.
In a video released on the popular TVgo.com, F’a Dommen declared “…we [shall] turn the rice paddies of Laos into paddies strewn with blood and various [body] parts…the Good Guys will become [best] friends…with the specter [of] death…”
As we sat down for a cigarette, the sky was ripped apart by the roar of twenty B-3 “Vicious Hawk” bombers. The subsequent explosions were like a new dawn on the horizon. Taking a long drag on his cigarette, Chau just smiled and said “We come, we see, we kick ass.” It seems these guerrillas are big fans of the Ghostbusters, as it wasn’t the first quote from that movie I had heard. It wouldn’t be the last.
“We will show the Bad Guys how we do things downtown.” Back inside, where by the light of a single 60 watt bulb, the courageous Laotians sat at the map table, planning their own final push for victory. As I entered, another smiling guerrilla asked “Are you the Keymaster?” He chortled and went back to his bowl of Skittles®. Loa, the commander, pointed his finger at the map, right at the location of the B.G.H.Q. “Aim for the flattop.” The grizzled fighters responded with a hearty cheer of “I love this town!” Stuck behind enemy lines, with the worst war can offer shoved upon them every minute, these stoic soldiers will do whatever they can to free their godless, communist rice paddies from the invader.
And so, I’m left to say “Honor the charge they made, honor the Light Brigade.”