Selective Memory

Laos bears the unique distinction of being the most bombed country on earth. Between 1964-1973, the United States conducted one of the largest sustained aerial bombardments in history, and many consider it one of the worst war crimes in history. It is now referred to as the "Secret War" because the decade of carpet bombing of peasant villages and caves was kept secret from Congress and the American people, for it violated the 1962 Geneva Accords that we signed.
The Americans flew over 500,000 sorties, dropping $2.2 million worth of bombs a day for ten years on eastern and southern Laos. The reasoning was to stop the domino effect spread of communism and destroy the Ho Chi Minh trail, but clearly dropping enough bombs for every man, woman and child - more than the combined amount dropped on Germany and Japan in WWII - went beyond military objectives. And I am ashamed to admit that after studying history at a major American institution, I barely ever heard of it.
Planes that failed to attack northern Vietnam from 5 airbases in Thailand and several in Vietnam due to weather or other problems were simply diverted to Laos. The Americans often didn't want to risk landing returning planes already armed with dangerous bombs. And when we finally, dramatically anounced the complete cessation of bombing north Vietnam, it simply meant that the full might of our military machine could be directed at Laos.
About 30% of the bombs we dropped never exploded. Most of these "bombies" were small cluster bombs designed to maim and kill humans. They are now buried in the fields, under houses and roads, in the front yards of highschools. Obviously, thousands of people, half children, die every year from accidents while leading simple peasant lives. America has done little to help, and the Laos government has understandably accepted little from us.
Since 1994 the British based Mines Advisory Group, chaired by Lou McGrath, has been helping remove nearly 100,000 bombies each year. In 1997 MAG won the nobel prize. They train villagers to locate and safely detonate unexploded ordnance. It is because of them that we were able to visit the Plain of Jars, a UNESCO World Heritage site in eastern Laos near a small city called Phonsavan. They've marked the safe areas to explore as well as the red areas to avoid. It is estimated that it may take 100 years to make Laos safe again.
Villages we visited in the sorrounding area have found practical uses for unexploded ordnance, using bomb casings, rockets, mortars, and fuel tanks for tools, utensils and building materials. Imagine what it makes you feel like, as an American, to stop for a coke on the side of the road and purchase it from an old man speaking french who is resting his arm on a shelf made from a bomb casing labeled "Northrop Carolina." Just driving through the countryside, the craters from 30 years ago still pock-mark the landscape. Peasants have simply farmed around them. Schools now teach children the dangers of playing with objects they find in the fields, but it makes me nervous simply to watch them farm or play in the rivers.
The real part that frankly makes me fucking sick is that this is not an isolated event in history. Returning refugees to Kosovo now face a new generation of unexploded cluster bombs used by America, the UK, and NATO. 50% of deaths there are from UXO. Whether it is in the name of freedom and democracy or to battle a dictator attempting genocide, it is simply wrong to drop these types of weapons that fail to detonate and create future dangers. One day I hope cluster bombs will be banned forever.
The amazing thing about visiting Laos is the unbelievable lack of ill feeling towards Americans. Long after my friends went to sleep in Phonsavan, I spent several hours late each night teaching English to a man whose parents fought against my parents generation, and yet there was no problem fast becoming friends. The people have seemingly forgiven and forgotten, more interested in a better future. It was all I could do to spend as much time as I could with him, mostly because I enjoyed it but I must admit partly from this hidden feeling of guilt. Sinh is a mathematics teacher from a small village near Vientienne, improving his English at a torturously slow but steady pace for lack of native speakers to talk with. His writing, reading, and grammar were quite excellent for a self-taught man, but his pronunciation suffered. Most foreigners, he shared with me, simply refuse to take the time to stop and help someone like him. He hopes to master the language in 5 years time.
Please excuse the seriousness of this entry, but it kept me up the better part of last night.