Laos and Singkapo

script

My boots wore me down. Rumpside off my sole lay opened and raw, skinned pink and fresh from the roughly shapen heavy shoes. I didn’t mind. Walking the streets with hills in tumbling pain. Wincing at each step. It’s the palest imitation, an exotic simulation of having grit. Such neuroticism forcloses the right to pain.

Laos, midnight in May, 1960.

They were arrested without trial. Weeks in a Prison with nothing but the conviction of their beliefs. With this, Prince Souphanouvong and Vongvichit escaped. This silent war was a sinewy secret contained around plains of stone jars. Propogation, propellers and pain were the powers that pervaded that inland sky. American words wrangled in warriors and parented Prabang indecision. A Top loyalist, a resume for patriotism, an eagle among the quiet people. Captain Kong Le was the perfect candidate. One of their old school teachers, Singkapo, wore colonel in the Pathet Lao. Le, drilled In America’s Manilla, was an unquestionable ticket to capturing them. The colonel was please to see him again, as Kong Le approached base in the Plain of Jars, older, an actor with a role. “At first the talks were about old times. Then he started getting down to the main subject. I should come over to the Royal Army — he had been assured I would have the rank of Colonel. He was only a junior officer and would be glad to serve under me. “I replied that we have both chosen military careers. This is an honourable career. But what are our aims? For me it was clear. The good of the country, the good of the people. ‘You also became a military officer for good patriotic reasons,’ I told him, ’to serve your country as an honest soldier. But in fact you are forced to serve against it. What have been the results? Your unit has consistently been defeated; its strength had constantly decreased. Because the people are against you, because you are fighting brother Loatians.’ Kong Le: “You would have an easy life — plenty of money and a good living.'

Singkapo ‘I took part in the resistance for the easy life, the happiness and prosperity of all Laotians, including you. I could no longer do that if I served the Americans.’

Both Kong Le and Singkapo grew up in the Pakse province. To America’s Secret services his loyalty was unquestionable. A Military man among Manila’s finest trained. To Kong Le, Singkapo’s words were right. It is what I have felt for a long time. Kong Le Was a Laotian man raised by Pakse’s finest.

There was no doubt that his coup, albeit unsuccessful, was a sign of hope for the meagre men of that prison cell, still three months before the doors unlatched, where all they had was their conviction, and now a confirmation of its potency. The Aloof master puppet Nosevan of the Royal Lao nation ensured the security of the fatally convicted partisans with the most loyal of guards given the most limited contact.

“The guards provided MP uniforms for each of us, helmets, brassards — and terrible new boots.” 133

“For the next five months, we tramped through the jungle covering over 300 miles back to our old bases, handed back from one guerilla unit to another, Nosavan’s troops scouring the countryside after us. It was a terrible journey. The 16 of us were very weak “The guards had never been used to marching at all. The fact that there were no privileges in our party fortified them in the most difficult times. It was strictly share and share alike. Some wanted to help carry my pack, but even when I was very ill, I insisted on carrying my share. It was the same with the other leaders. This was a type of leadership the former MP’s had never known. It strengthened their convictions that they were on the right track, in the right company.”