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.
