p
John Barren
and Anthony Paul
p Readers’ Digest, March, 1977
p “Peace came to Cambodia on the morning of April 17, 1975. After five years of civil war, the government under Gen. Lon Nol had collapsed, the army disintegrated, the last American diplomats fled. The besieged capital of Pnom Penh and its three million people lay prostrate and defenceless before encircling communist forces. [86•**
The first communist squads of 10 to 12, dressed in black pajama-like uniforms, were spotted infiltrating the capital at about 7 am. Clusters of people along the streets clapped and cheered, and children darted among the soldiers yelling, “The war is over!" Adults shouted, “Peace! Peace!" Women threw guarlands of yellow alamanda blossoms; couples danced and sang in the streets.
p In their rejoicing, the people were not necessarily celebrating the victory of communism. The harsh regimen the insurgents had imposed in conquered territories in the countryside alienated the peasantry, and more and more families had fled to the cities. At the beginning of the war in 1970, only about 13 per cent of the nation’s seven million citizens lived in urban areas. By spring 1975, it was 50 per cent.
p But the Lon Nol government did not command widespread allegiance either. It was notoriously incompetent and corrupt. The fratriridnl war had caused perhaps 600,000 deaths, 87 and a majority of the dead were civilians. Prior to 1970, Cambodian farmers annually produced bountiful surpluses of rice. Timber, cattle, poultry were also plentiful. But the war had disrupted the economy, ravaged the countryside.
p Of course, the communists might punish, perhaps even kill, the leaders of the Lon Nol government. But toward the general populace they would surely be reasonable and just. They were, after all, fellow Khmers and fellow adherents of Buddhism, which teaches tolerance, respect and kindness toward others.
p “That morning we were shouting, ’Victory! Victory!’ ” recalls 23-year-old economics student, Ung Sok Choeu. “It wasn’t that we loved the Khmer Rouge so much, but seeing Lon Nol go was worth an outburst of joy. What use was it that Khmers should kill each other?”
p Nonetheless, there were troublesome early portents. For, although the Khmer Rouge authorities stopped looting by civilians and government soldiers, warning that transgressors would be summarily shot or hanged, they did nothing to deter wholesale looting by their own troops. Soon, communist soldiers rampaged through commercial districts, shooting open the bolted doors of shops or ripping them off with ropes attached to Jeeps. By 8:30, communist troops were halting traffic to confiscate cars, motorcycles and bicycles. During these thefts, the soldiers habitually invoked the strange term Angka Loeu. The phrase can be translated into English as “Organization of High”. With a politeness which belied the pointed rifles or pistols, they would say, “Angka Loeu proposes that you lend me your motorcycle. Angka Loeu proposes that you drive me”. Most people in Pnom Penh had heard little of Angka Loeu. . . .
p . . .Soon the killing began. An 18-year-old high-school student, Sar Sam, saw it start. “At 8:45 that morning, a Khmer Rouge killed Mr. Kim, our neighbour. Mr. Kim was about 42. He joined the army in 1971 as a private second class, and he had only one leg.”
p About the same time, 10 to 20 civil servants and soldiers walked out of a government building. Waiting communist troops, without warning or explanation, cut them down with 88 machine-gun fire. Later, in front of the Ministry of Information, communist soldiers surrounded a man who, by some word or gesture, had given offence, and kicked and stabbed him. The crowd watched as he slowly died. . . .
p . . .At about 9 am, in his private clinic across the street from the military hospital, Dr. Vann Hay was attending a colonel wounded in the last hours of the bombardment. “I was still in the operating room when I was told that Khmer Rouge soldiers were at the door of the clinic, asking that everybody leave immediately. I went to talk to them. There were may be 20, all very young, and they repeated their order. ’These people here are sick,’ I told them. ’They cannot get up and leave.’ ’No exceptions,’ said the Khmer Rouge. ’The town has to be cleared. Everybody get out.’ ”
p Shooting in the air, broadcasting through loudspeakers, banging on doors, sometimes shouting harshly, sometimes speaking with saccharine courtesy, troops in the name of Angka Loeu now repeated the same stunning order all over Pnom Penh, a city of three million. Every man, woman and child, regardless of occupation, age or physical condition, must get out of the city.
To those who asked why, communist soldiers offered differing explanations: “The Americans are going to bomb.” “It’s an order from Angka.” But the reply which events proved most valid was given to a group of foreign Catholic priests by an Angka commissar: “From now on, if people want to eat, they should go out and work in the rice paddies. Cities are evil. There are money and trade in cities, and both have a corrupting influence. That is why we shall do away with cities.”