Across the Mekong River by Elaine Russell Read Free Book Online Page B

vile oaths as they headed down the hill. They killed my sister-in-law Pa, Tong’s wife, and Auntie Kee and her daughter Gao that day.
    The following year American planes filled the skies as never before, day and night, hour after hour. Thousands of bombs rained down over every bit of land in the Plain of Jars and surrounding hills. The sky became so thick with smoke we gasped for air. The night carried a strange, yellow-red glow from the explosions. The bounty of the earth was destroyed.
    On a sunny afternoon in July we planted long beans, yams, and taro in a sm all clearing near to our huts. A single engine plane passed over and then circled back. I looked up, hoping for a parachute with bags of rice. Uncle Mang wiped the sweat from his brow on his sleeve and waved to the pilot. The plane dove down. A spray of bullets danced across the ground like crickets hopping through the dirt. Uncle Mang’s eyes widened, his arm still lifted, his hand in the air. Blood began to spurt from his neck and chest. He collapsed on the ground. Then he let go of his last breath.
    No where was safe. American bombs kept falling. They did not distinguish farmer from soldiers, friends from enemies. I did not understand. Lao villagers ran into the mountains to take cover in caves or dig trenches in the woods. Thousands died. No time to bury their dead. Nothing remained of their houses, animals, fields. All blown to pieces.
    We took shelter in a large cave with other families fleeing the madness. It was early November, the time of the rice harvest. But there was no rice. We could no longer farm at all. I felt like a plant yanked by its roots from the earth, cut off from this last shred of normal life. Many did not survive, killed by bombs or fever or hunger. One morning my mother-in-law did not wake. I understood her souls did not want to live in this world any longer.
    Pao appeared one night in December after a two-month absence. I could not stop crying when I saw him. Through the years and separations, I had never complained, never told him of my terror and suffering. He led those of us who remained to Long Chieng. The Special Forces had recently won the base back from the Pathet Lao after a long and bloody battle. We lived in a small hut near the air strip. I never slept more than an hour or two at a time, afraid of what might come next.
    It was my babies that kept me from giving up--Fong, so sturdy and brave, and little Fue, a child bursting with happiness and love. I kept them beside me, Fue tied on my back and Fong attached to my waste by a rope around his wrist. I never let them play farther then a few feet from where I worked. As they grew older, they helped gather plants and grubs in the forest. They learned quickly to keep quiet when we hid in the trees. There was never enough food. Many days I did not eat so they would not go hungry. I prayed to our ancestors and made offerings every morning. I know it was my father, long gone to the other world, who watched over and protected us.
    Five more years before t he war ended at last. A month later my first beautiful girl, Nou, was born. We moved to a new village and life unfolded into a familiar pattern. Two happy years passed until the Pathet Lao took control of the country. When Uncle Boua finally agreed to leave, my husband held me close in bed that night, stroking my hair. He murmured in my ear, his voice soothing and reassuring. We could stay in Thailand until the situation improved. The communists could not last long. The people would see through their lies. We would come back.
    I could not imagine life in a nother place. Now, we would never again go to our fields. Never harvest the crops I had lovingly tended. This was our land. The fertile earth, forests, streams. These were the source of our being.
    The next morning I gathered clothes, bedding, silver jewelry, an d bags of rice for the journey. I packed everything I thought we could carry.
    Pao wanted to go to Muang Cha that afternoon.