"On a Cold Night They Came"

A Quiet Town With a Violent Past

The road that leads from the villages of Daun Sva to Bott in the province of Siem Reap is a particularly pretty one. Trees of grey and white bark line one of the few paved roads in the region, and the view from a bicycle stretches across the fields of brown wheat and green rice plants to the hills of the Varin district. In Bott village itself, a Wat with a large and ornately decorated gate stands where the road curves toward the smoke colored hills in the distance. In this place of seemingly rural tranquility, however, there is a hidden danger. A few kilometers outside of Bott, there are little stone markers placed on paths leading into the rice fields. The markers are painted red and white, and have the design of a skull and crossbones painted on them to indicate the presence of mines and unexploded ordinance. The Halo Trust, a British de-mining organization that is active in Cambodia, placed the signs there some years ago, but even their warning goes unheeded by some. It is common to see farmers tending to their cattle herds or walking among their crops out there. It is still not clear to me whether or not they understand the danger that is involved in their action. I have talked to them on a few occasions using what little Khmer I know in order to gain any information about these fields. They know that there are mines out there, but they continue to go on farming despite the danger. It is the only thing that they can do to still make a living.

There are many mines in this area, and their presence is a symbol of the violence that Cambodia suffered over a period of nearly thirty years. In talking with some of the teachers at my high school, I have learned something about the violent history of Anchor. In order to explain some of it, I must of course describe briefly something of Cambodia’s history during the past thirty years. In 1970, a General named Lon Nol took power in a Coup that deposed King Norodom Sihanouk. Sihanouk in turn backed a revolutionary guerilla group named the Khmer Rouge, and supported them in their fight against Lon Nol. When the Khmer Rouge took power in 1975, they forced people out their homes all over the country to work in a gigantic agrarian genocide that caused the deaths of millions. In 1979, Vietnam invaded the country in response to attacks on Vietnamese civilians, and occupied the country until 1989. In 1992, the UN transitional government authority (UNTAC) came in to help support Cambodia’s first democratic elections that resulted with Hun Sein, the current prime minister, gaining power in 1997. From what I have gathered, the district of Anchor has witnessed a small part of many of these major events that I have quickly reviewed.

Anchor was one of the last districts to be captured by the Khmer Rouge in the 1970’s. Some of the residents have told me that when Lon Nol’s government was fighting with them, many people died here and in the surrounding areas. It also seems that almost everyone here knows someone who was killed during the time of genocide, whether it was an uncle, father, cousin, or some other kind of relative. When the Vietnamese army invaded Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge placed mines on the roads and in the fields to halt the invading army’s progress.

After the Vietnamese had conquered most of the country, fighting between the Khmer Rouge and government soldiers lasted for many years afterwards. The Khmer Rouge soldiers attacked the police and the army multiple times during this period, and civilians were in a constant state of alarm. UNTAC sent several workers to the Anchor district during the 1990’s, and two of them were killed in the ongoing violence. A mine on the road blew up underneath the car of one, and other received a fatal bullet wound in the neck. From what I am told by people in the village, the latter came from Bangladesh and lived at the Wat with the monks until he died. Until Hun Sein took power in 1997, there was virtually no peace in the area. The central town’s appearance today looks so peaceful, and it is hard to imagine the horrible things that went on here some years ago. Yet they did.

On a Cold Night They Came

This is the story of Mr. Jia Bon Tooen. He is a friend of mine who works in the office at my high school, and I have come to know him through regular visits to his cell phone shop in the market. On one such occasion, he told this story about his early days as a teacher in this district. It is a tale of survival, and the misery that the people faced in a time before the days of UNTAC. This is his story, and I have tried to put it down in writing as best I can.

When I came to this district as a secondary school teacher in 1989, I lived two different lives. By day, I taught physics, chemistry, and math. By night, I traded my chalkboard and teaching materials for a rifle and grenade belt. You must believe when I say that I never in my life wanted to become a soldier, but the situation at the time was desperate. When I arrived at the school in the beginning of the academic year, the school director told me that I would not be paid if I did not perform nightly guard duty for the local army company. Rather than face starvation and misery, I carried the gun. While the soldiers and police slept during the night, a ragtag band of teachers and office workers kept watch over the town. Every night, we were afraid that the Khmer Rouge would attack. We knew that they hid in the forested hills not far from the town in the district of Varin, and that at night they would creep through the fields to attack the town. It was only a matter of time before it did, and I will tell you how it happened.

It was a cold night when they came. At four in the morning, I was standing outside of my house near the main road that leads through the center of town. A few hundred meters away, the police and army slept at the barracks near the secondary school while I waited for my shift to be over. Another hour, and I could go back and prepare for the morning session. I crossed my arms, rested the butt of my rifle on the ground, and leaned against a post to try to maybe sleep a little while no one could see me. Just as I closed my eyes, I heard a loud whistling. I looked up, and something fell from the sky and exploded a hundred meters away with a large explosion that shook the earth. I dropped to my hands and knees as other bombs came and crashed in the same way.

During a brief pause in the shelling, I suddenly began to hear the sounds of pounding feet. I looked in the opposite direction of where the bombs struck, and I saw the soldiers of the Khmer Rouge. Hundreds of them were running down the road dressed in their Chinese made green drab uniforms. Their heads were wrapped in red bandannas, their feet protected by sandals, and their waists were clothed in ammunition. I could see them coming, but they could not see me in the darkness. I acted quickly and jumped into a muddy canal that was by the side of the road next to me. In the dark, I threw off my ammunition, grenades, and pitched my rifle into the black water. I did not dare fight the Khmer Rouge, for I knew that I would be killed if I did. I was a teacher, not a soldier. I didn’t sign up for this.

I could hear the pounding feet running by me as I breathed heavily among the reeds and muck of my watery hiding place. My head was just above the water, but despite my efforts to hide myself I still feared that the Khmer Rouge would see me. When the pounding of feet passed near me, I felt fear in the pit of my stomach. I was not a Christian man then, but if I were I would have offered God anything He wanted if He kept me alive that night.

As soon as the soldiers passed my hiding place, I began to hear gunfire. The Khmer Rouge were fighting with the soldiers near the school, but from where I was I could not see them. Slowly and carefully as to not make a sound, I crept on my belly like a snake from my hiding place through the mud to see what was going on. As soon as I reached the road, I saw that the Khmer Rouge had almost completely overrun the soldiers and police stationed at the barracks. The government soldiers were retreating, firing their guns sporadically as they went. These men constantly bullied the civilians in the town, but when it came down to actually fighting all of their bravado was stripped from them. When the shooting finally stopped, I walked slowly back to my house. I went up to the second floor, took off my wet and muddy clothes, and hid under my bed. However, the terror of the night was not yet over.

When the Khmer Rouge had taken all that they wanted from the barracks, they turned on the town. They looted everything that they could find, and I could hear them breaking down doors and smashing windows outside. One soldier came into my house, and stole my dishes. When his footsteps could be heard inside the house, I froze. The sound made it its way into my living room, and having not found anything of value in there the footsteps made their way into my kitchen. I could hear the clatter of my dishes as he dumped them into his crudely stitched sack and began to head for the door. In my misery and desperation, I decided to follow him to beg for my things back. Today, I do not know why I did this, as I could have stayed hidden where I was. I felt that it was the least I could do to protect what little I had.

I came downstairs with only a kromah wrapped around my waist, and followed the man as he left. A few steps out the front door, the soldier noticed that he was being followed. He turned around to face me with one hand holding his rifle, and the other carrying his stolen goods. The man looked like one who was deprived of even the simple comforts of life. His naked feet looked bruised and worn, and his dark and sun scorched face contrasted sharply with the red bandanna tied around his head. The green army clothes he wore were dirty and covered with mud around the ankles. He could have smelled awful as well, but I did not dare get close enough to him to tell if he did or not.

When the man looked at me with hardened eyes and a scowl, I put my hands together and pleaded with him to not take my dishes. I said that I was simple person without a lot of money. He dropped his sack and grinned, revealing a sinister smile of white broken teeth. He raised his rifle and asked me, “Why do you follow me?” and fired the gun several times. A spray of bullets struck the earth around my feet, and I thought for a moment that he would raise it and shoot me in the chest. However, he simply laughed and walked off to rejoin his comrades. I dropped to my knees in shock of what happened, and watched the Khmer Rouge wreak havoc in the town. Some of them simply robbed houses, but others did more damage. One smashed open a jewel case, and helped himself to as many watches as he liked. I retreated back to my hiding place soon after I was shot at, and the Khmer Rouge soon after retreated to theirs. The sun was coming up soon, and they knew that they were not safe in broad daylight from the government planes.

I did not go to school that day. I helped my friends and neighbors pick up the pieces of what had just happened. We knew that the Khmer Rouge would come again, but for the time being we could calm ourselves enough to avoid going mad with fright.

No one slept well the next night. No one who lived through what we did would have.