KSV News: Short Round 026
Lao Bao and Co Roc
Everyone who spent time at Khe Sanh, especially during the months surrounding the Siege, will never forget the name Co Roc. That geographic border feature had been tunneled from the Western (Laotian) side to create openings in the cliff face where artillery could be placed, on rails, facing east toward Khe Sanh. We never gave due respect to the engineering capabilities of the NVA. Had we studied what their expert tunneling and decisive explosions had done at Dien Bien Phu, “Mister Charles” would have become their respectful name much earlier.
Lesser known is the history of the Lao Bao prison, located at the base of Co Roc on the Vietnam side of the bordering Xe Pon River. Had we better appreciated the prison’s history and its location on the historic invasion corridor, our small place in the of ebb and flow of military history may have made some sense. I have walked the prison grounds, and it is indeed a very miserable place. The area is now dominated by hollow border shopping centers- what an irony!
Two books by Recon Marine, John Edmund Delezen, (“Eye of the Tiger” and “Red Plateau”) have been, in my humble opinion, the most valuable in providing an understanding of THE battle and the area. If you have not read them, please do. You will thank me. (If you do not find them extraordinary, I will kiss your ass on third base at Yankee Stadium!)
Attached for your consideration is a brief passage from “Eye of the Tiger”: Memoir of a United States Marine, Third Force Recon Company, Vietnam by John Edmund Delezen.
SF
Bob Koury: Website & Digital Manager
“The steep wall does not actually begin or end but is in reality the eastern edge of a massive flat plateau. The wall turns south within two kilometers of the old prison at Lao Bao and meanders along the southern bank of the Xe Pon River, becoming much steeper and creating a natural border between Vietnam and Laos for some twenty-five torturous miles. It was here in the shadow of Co Roc that, for one hundred years, Vietnamese emperors unleashed frustrated fury against their hated Catholic captives; burning, starving, beheading, and humiliation only served to attract an even greater number of those seeking the sanctity of canonization.
With Indochina held in the grip of French colonialism throughout the following century, the miserable legacy of Lao Bao continued. Those that defied the authority of the colonial government were subjected to agonizing torments that would have left ancient emperors speechless with envy. Political dissidents, chained to bandits, thieves, murderers, rapists and warlords, rotted alive in sweltering concrete cell blocks.
Lao Bao, unlike other penal colonies, was not so much a labor camp as it was a killing place. The wretched souls that were sentenced to this nightmare were without hope, having been thrust deep into the bowels of the partially subterranean prison for no other reason but to die from malnutrition, infection, tropical disease and snakebite. For those no longer wanting to struggle through the next day, a merciful death by strangulation could be purchased from a fellow prisoner for a single ration of thin soup.
The vast grounds of the old prison, rivaling most botanical gardens in Asia, were kept in a state of perfection by Indo-chine guards that enjoyed the unlimited labor force constantly at their disposal. Opulent, strutting peacocks that were utilized as vigilant sentries, wandered freely within the walls of the compound. No movement escaped their attention and no coaxing could prevent the alarm sent by their shrill, frightened screeches.
In an ambiance filled with terror, despair and seclusion, Lao Bao was just as much a confinement for the oppressors as it was for the oppressed. For many, the total isolation became an unbearable test of psychological stamina. For the three or four French delegue posted at the prison to oversee the Indo-chine guard detachment, solace was commonly found in the embrace of the abundant poppy.
Standing alone in the shade of a corrugated tin roofed shed was the vain and selfish Madame Guillotine. Spoiled and arrogant, she unleashed her fury against criminals as well as those that would dare attempt to lift the yoke of colonialism from Indochina.
The Madame was kept in a state of pampered perfection by suitors that were often picked from the very worst of those sent to die slowly in the dungeons. In time they would also feel her intimate caress.
Often the botanical splendor became a gathering place for those that were invited to watch the spectacle of terror. The Madame, wearing a fresh coat of “widow-black” paint, her blade honed to deadly brilliance by the loving hands of future victims, would fall repeatedly. Crimson rivers ran from the concrete gutters beneath her bosom, carrying away the rebellious blood of martyred patriots. Each brilliant flash from the Madame turned the Xe Pon red as the shallow river flowed slowly and deliberately south.
The crimson defiance of Indochina was absorbed into the towering rock that transformed Co Roc into a darker shade of black.”