Outside Phnom Penh 1973-1975

 

From the time I arrived in Phnom Penh, the Khmer Rouge were never very far from the city. They came closer in the dry season and retreated again in the rainy season. This had already become an annual ritual, and in Phnom Penh many people, including myself, were lulled into a false sense of security. This dance could go on forever, it seemed.

At weekends and on holidays, I often rode out of the city. Generally it was safe enough to go out during the daytime along the main roads to a distance of 30-40 kms, but it was prudent to be back in the city by dusk. The KR owned the roads at night. The countryside was still surprisingly pretty in many areas, but in others it was a wasteland where the heads had been blown off the palm trees, leaving a landscape of charred trunks.

I did not have a map, so I just followed the road in various directions to see what I could see. When I heard gunfire, I stopped and asked someone what was happening. I saw very little of the brutality of the fighting until I went to Udong one day and stumbled on a massacre at Phnom Praseth. It was a strategic hill which had been taken, lost and retaken many times. There had been savage fighting, aerial bombardment and napalm. There was horrific evidence of torture and executions, but which side was responsible… it was impossible to tell.