A 750-pound bomb will instantly turn nearby houses into flying debris which will, in turn, destroy other village structures

In an effort to help our supporters understand why our thirteen-person team could not immediately “render safe” the 750 bomb that we identified in a village, I’ve compiled a list of the steps that staff must follow when assisting a village that is threatened by such a destructive device.

Ten years ago I was a very minor member of a team that rendered safe a similar bomb, found in a similar setting. That bomb was safely destroyed in a group effort that involved more than fifty individuals: technicians, deminers, police officers and Lao soldiers.

You don’t tackle ordnance of any size (big bomb, cluster bomb, rocket, mortar, hand grenade) unless you are certain that have the staff, the skill, and the resources to do more good than harm. And then, in the words of Paul Stanford, my mentor: “You have to get it right the first time—every time!”

Critical steps:

1.  Carefully excavate the bomb.

2.   Clean the bomb sufficiently to expose markings that provide information about its fusing and content.

3.   Determine the five “W’s”:

What is it? Where is it? When was it put there? Why is it there? Whether anyone has touched it?

4.   Search the area for additional UXO.

5.   Create a map of the area indicating notable structures and features; establish the relationship of the bomb to its surroundings.

6.   Photograph structures in the village to establish “before demolition” condition.

7.   Discuss options with other EOD (Explosive Ordnance Disposal) specialists.

8.   Identify neighboring utilities: drop overhead electric lines; purge gas lines.

9.   Sandbag the site, as appropriate.

10. Inform local authorities of intent to render the bomb safe.

11. Inform, discuss and plan with local police, district military and other authorities. Seek their assistance.

12. If need be: inform provincial authorities.

13. Seek advice and consent from village chief, monks, elders and other village leaders when determining course of action and selecting work dates.

14. Determine the most appropriate window of opportunity.

15. Advertise the upcoming event.

16. Compile list of residents who will need special assistance on the day of the demolition: the elderly, the infirmed, villagers who are cognitively disabled, deaf who may be wearing Hearing Aids, blind, linguistically diverse, etc.

Immediately prior to demolition:

17. Inspect and test firing cable, exploder, and all electrical connections.

18. Monitor weather conditions relative to the comfort of evacuees and the possibility of lightning triggering the exposed ordnance.

19. Remove to safety the entire contents of adjacent houses and other structures.

20. Remove to safety the “selected” contents of more distant houses and structures. (i.e. valuable or treasured possessions).

21. Identify and publicize the sites to which residents will be evacuated. Consider both safety and comfort: toilets, drinking water, shelter from sun, wind, rain.

22. Collect explosive material and detonators from secure storage.

23. Post sentries and take control of roads and walking trails.

24. Have sentries with bullhorns walk the villages and inform residents of the need to evacuate.

25. Have staff visit the homes of villagers who have been identified with special needs: elderly, infirmed, etc.

26. Monitor and assist with the removal of livestock.

27. Maintain constant radio contact with the ring of sentries who surround the now-empty village. (Have sentries confer with their GPS units to assure correct location).

28. When the village has been evacuated and residents and their possessions are as secure as practicable, proceed with the demolition. You can look at here if you want to determine the machinery required for the demolition.

Most provinces in Laos are underserved by humanitarian clearance organizations. Given the rate at which unexploded ordnance (UXO) is being rendered safe the bombs, rockets, motors, bullets and shells that blight 2,500 villages here will outlive every human now living on our planet. But…in the nine select provinces that currently receive funding…deminers are making at least a modest effort. But, what about provinces like Phongsali, Oudomxai, and Bolykhamxai that have not, since the war ended forty years ago, received any help at all?

In underserved locations self-trained, self-proclaimed, amateur, bomb experts step up and offer their services—albeit, at a price. Need a bomblet removed from the family garden? Police won’t help; find the village expert. Children walking to school are stepping over a bomblet exposed by recent rains. Military won’t help; find the village expert. A thousand-pound bomb turns up in the village center. Humanitarian organizations can’t, or won’t, work in the province; find a village expert. Want to dismantle a cluster bomblet and turn it into a lantern? Want to harvest explosive to blow stumps out of the ground? Ask the village expert for help and he’ll gladly exchange his expertise for funds or favors.

Humanitarian organizations often find themselves in competition with village bomb experts, not for cash but for credibility and trust.
But…just how skilled are these experts? Some have a command of knowledge nearly equal to highly trained, well-compensated technical advisors employed by MAG, HALO, and other humanitarian clearance organizations. Others are over-due for an accident and are living on borrowed time.

Anyone who works in rural Laos for any appreciable length of time will meet up with a wounded bomb expert forced into retirement by a piece of ordnance that defied conventional wisdom. Or…the parent, wife, sibling or child of a deceased expert who wasn’t quite as smart as he thought he was and experienced a very bad day at work. Many village experts are alive, practicing their trade, only because they have yet to meet a device that is an exception to the rules.

Usually, when a village bomb expert bites the dust, there is little mourning among professional clearance workers. The pros know that village amateurs ignore repeated warnings and often put innocent folks at risk. (Nearly one-third of all UXO accident victims in Laos are passers-by—folks caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. When I hear that a local expert has been killed, my first thought is, “How many others did he take with him?”

When I returned to Sop Houn village last month I inquired after the local expert, befriended by my team six years ago and nicknamed “Mr. Magnet.” A surprisingly old guy who possessed an uncanny knack for locating bombs in and around his village. I was genuinely saddened to learn that, in my absence, Mr. Magnet had died. And, frankly, surprised that he had achieved his three score years and ten without accidently blowing himself to bits. When I asked his friends whether he had been killed working on ordnance they assured me that “No. He just got sick and died”.

Clearance workers in Laos can encounter up to 300 different kinds of ordnance. Mr. Magnet was skilled but modest. When he found something he didn’t know he was wise enough to leave it along. He understood the danger of tampering with the unfamiliar.

Good for Mr. Magnet. He died in bed in spite of frequently taking bombs apart and using explosives to his own advantage: blowing stumps out of the ground, stunning fish that he would then collect and carry to market, blasting craters to divert streams in the direction of his thirsty rice fields.

Mr. Magnet knew that our safety lectures were, given the realities of Phongsali, mostly bullshit; too polite to confront the admonition to “leave UXO to the experts” he simply dismissed that old hoax with good-natured laughter. He knew that since no help was coming he should, at a minimum, learn to coexist with the crap that kept turning up. And…all the better if he could learn to recycle dangerous litter in a way that improved his life.

Our We Help War Victims team was the singular contradiction challenging Mr. Magnet’s cynical view on promises of eventual help. Much to his surprise our team, in defiance of Lao government regulations, worked in and around Sop Houn village for four dry seasons. (The most telling description I can give of Sop Houn is that it’s a village of 96 houses and 58 bomb craters. The final season we worked there we destroyed 105 pieces of ordnance in 42 days. Frequently, it was Mr. Magnet who led our team to items he had discovered and wisely declined to touch.)

Mr. Magnet could be magnanimous. Many a time he risked his life removing or destroying ordnance that turned up on neighboring farms; items that frightened folks and hindered their struggle to eke out a living as subsistence farmers.

Mr. Magnet set the goal of diverting a stream and thereby bringing water to his new rice field. He would call upon our team to blow up ordnance that he claimed to have found (conveniently) along the path of the ditch he was digging.

He could also be a scamp. Once, our team went to his farm, at his request, to blow up an M-83 cluster bomblet. (A cluster bomblet packed with 200 grams of high explosive; a device so cranky that we always decline to move them and, instead, blow them up in place). We found Mr. Magnet’s bomblet, conveniently perched behind a boulder that he had been struggling, unsuccessfully, to move.

Another time, he took issue with our intent to conduct a controlled explosion near a large, impressively configured tree that had spiritual significance to village elders. Mr. Magnet failed to win that argument rhetorically. But our debate became moot when, overnight, the item slated for demolition simply disappeared. I didn’t waste a second interrogating other suspects.

(In my twenty-three years as a school principal I’ve had hundreds of guilty children look me in the eye and profess innocence; I’ve never met a better liar than Mr. Magnet, nor one that I’ve felt more affection for).

I’m proud to have had Mr. Magnet for a friend. Working as he did, in a province ignored for forty years by his own government and every humanitarian clearance organization certified to work in Laos, he was a brave, generous, civic-minded man. He was a rarity: a self-trained, self-proclaimed village bomb expert who gave his trade a good name.

Three days in the field and each day a different challenge. I keep telling myself, “If this job was easy, what would they need us for?”

Every signal from our metal detectors must be explored, even if the deminers must chip through rock and stone

The first day, we might as well have been working on a paved parking lot. The landowner, in the recent past, was either coerced or given the opportunity to let a road crew store road material on his property. The advantage to him, aside from the unlikely possibility of rent, was that the road crew leveled the site of trees and brush. Then, after the road construction was finished, they removed all but a base layer of gravel and crushed rock. The landowner tells us that he’d like to dig a fishpond on the site.

The challenge for us is that we got readings on our metal detectors indicating the presence of metal refuse, possibly ordnance, beneath the base layer of rock. But, over the years that layer has hardened to near-concrete density. Several of our metal shovels left the field curled like the toes of Aladdin’s slippers.

The fact that heavy construction equipment had traversed the property numerous times and applied massive weight to the base layer was no guarantee that UXO didn’t remain. There could have been large aircraft-delivered bombs, weighing a thousand pounds or more buried deep underground.

The guys literally chipped away at the job and thoroughly cleared the site but they spent a full day working an area that under normal circumstances would have been a half-day job.

On the next site we found poor scrub cutting. The actual machete work wasn’t bad, the farmer followed our admonition that all existing vegetation had to be cut to a height of four inches (so we can get our detectors close enough to the ground to get optimal performance). The problem was that the farmer left the cut vegetation in place, following the centuries old habit of “slash and burn.” But, we’re here early in the dry season, weeks before conditions will permit a thorough burn. As a consequence, our guys, who earn three times the daily pay of day laborers, had to rake the farmer’s brush into windrows—a poor use of skilled labor.

Working around felled trees. Deminers must take special care because they know they can’t miss a spot the size of a walnut or they’ll set a farmer up for an accident.

At the third site, we found ourselves in a previously timbered area that a year ago the farmer cut and burned in anticipation of planting coffee—his family’s first cash crop. It saddens me to see the diameter of the trees the family felled. Those trees, some over a hundred feet tall were survivors survived of aerial bombardment during the war. And, likely, defoliation spraying as well. Now, those centuries-old trees are lying as blacked logs over the site.

The challenge for us is to work around all the fallen trees. The burn thoroughly removed all the undergrowth and all but the largest limbs. Fire turned decades, perhaps centuries, of compressed leaf matter to ash.

As is fundamental to slash and burn cultivation (“swidden”) the farmer left all the charred tree stumps in place. Their buried root systems will hold the exposed soil in place while his coffee seedlings establish a footing, and the largest of the charred timbers will provide shade for the tender coffee plants for years to come.

But, to guarantee the farmer a safe garden we must clamber over and around hundreds, perhaps thousands, of blacked, arboreal skeletons that just a year ago would have towered overhead. And if our detectors indicate metal under a log, we must excavate cautiously in tight quarters.

It would be a fool’s wager to bet that the fire that burned this forest also destroyed any subterranean UXO or that bomblets that survived have been proved harmless. In truth, the more abuse ordnance is subjected to, the crankier it gets.

Strictly speaking, although burning is a common practice, we can’t advise farmers to burn fields ahead of our deminers. Too many accidents have occurred when farmers—tending a fire—have been injured by exploding ordnance. We recommend the preferred practice of stacking brush in windrows.

In many legal cases, polygraph tests are employed to discern the truth in criminal investigations. They can be a useful tool in gathering evidence, and are often used in conjunction with other investigative techniques. Contact lie detectors uk for professional services.

Our deminers can use their detectors to check for UXO along both sides of a windrow. After the ground to either side of the row has been confirmed safe, the deminers will use long poles to lift and flip the windrowed brush over onto safe ground and proceed to check the soil beneath.

Everyone agrees that it’s a bad idea to move bomblets and other dangerous items. But, when there is no one to provide a safe alternative, what’s a farmer to do?

As the team worked in the forest clearing a parcel that a Lao farmer hopes to turn into a coffee garden I tried, for the sake of warmth, to keep myself in motion. Adjacent to their work area was an expansive field that was slashed, burnt and put under cultivation at least three or four years ago.

That zone was more windswept than the forest, but as the morning mist lifted, the sun both brightened my spirits and warmed my body.

By my third lap around the perimeter of the two-acre site I was comfortably warm and looking for a purpose that would justify my deserting the thirteen men still working in the cold, shaded forest. I decided to keep myself in motion playing a solitary game I call “Where Would I Put The Bombie”.

Farmers reckon that ordnance placed on tree stumps, ant hills or termite mounds are safer than items left where people might step. 50% of all accidents with UXO occur when someone is intentionally handling ordnance.

In these parts it’s nearly inevitable that the land being readied for cultivation will harbor unexploded ordnance—relics of aerial assault: bombs, cluster munitions, rockets and other projectiles. If the area was the site of ground action there could be bullets, artillery shells, hand grenades, mortar rounds and the like.

Some of these explosive remnants of war will explode in the intense heat of the fire lit to consume the cut and dried vegetation. Items on the surface that survive the fire will, after decades hidden from site in the underbrush, finally be exposed. And, when the farmer and his family begin to work the soil in preparation for planting, they may well discover objects that have been hidden from sight for forty years or more.

The stuff that the farmer finds after the burn is his to deal with and most Lao farmers will deal with it wisely. If it can remain where it was discovered the farmer might roll a log over it, or bury it beneath a pyramid of rock. There it will sit for years while the family works the site. When the thin tropical soil plays out and the family moves on to slash and burn a new area the ordnance will be left behind, destined to live out its hundred-year life-span hidden beneath logs or rocks.

But often, a farmer who finds ordnance inconveniently underfoot will choose to lift the item and gently place it where no family member is likely to step. Farmers drop bomblets down hollow trees; they set them atop tree stumps, anthills and termite mounds.

My game, “Where Would I Put The Bombie” requires that I walk an entire site and inspect every tree stump, hollow tree, anthill and other tempting depositories for relocated ordnance. Today, in an hour’s time I found two tree stumps that each held parts of once dangerous ordnance. In both cases, the items that the farmer discovered and feared were in a condition that left them incapable of further harm, but the farmers didn’t know that and were wary enough of their family’s safety that risking injury by moving the objects was judged to be better than leaving them where found.

A final, sobering statistic: In Laos, of the many thousands of accidents with UXO that have occurred since the war ended forty years ago, nearly half involved someone intentionally handling the device. Those unlucky farmers, who tried but didn’t make it to the nearest tree stump died trying to keep their loved ones safe.

We Help War Victims is the only NGO that has provided villages in Phongsali Province with area clearance and rapid response. More than fifteen years ago, nine of eighteen Lao provinces were chosen to get priority over other less contaminated provinces. Although funding has increased dramatically, long-neglected provinces like Phongsali are still without help.

Here’s a map showing the pattern of bombing in Phongsali Province. Yet, this province has never been approved to receive UXO removal by UXO/LAO, MAG, Halo, Norwegian Peoples’ Aid or any other humanitarian organization that has functioned here. The only help that Phongsali villagers have received in forty years was from WHWV during four consecutive dry-season projects. (Projects conducted without Lao government approval).

More than fifteen years ago, when international funding was almost nil, Laos performed triage and chose to put all efforts and funds into the nine most contaminated provinces and to delay work in other provinces until funding increased. In my sixteen years here I’ve seen US funds doubled and doubled and doubled again. But…still not a dime to those long-neglected provinces.

I’m pleased to hear that President Obama advocates doing more to remove the blight of UXO from Laos, but I’ll bet he doesn’t know that our current funding only aids 9 of 18 provinces here. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that our State Department Office of Weapons Removal and Abatement hasn’t got a clue.

It’s not as if no one has asked. Danish Church Aid, learning of WHWV work in Phongsali, requested funds from the US to perform UXO clearance and “rapid response” to villager-discovered ordnance. That request was denied and funds went…where? Where they’ve always gone—to the same nine provinces that were selected more than fifteen years ago when US funding was a fraction of what it is today.

This bomb lay under sheets of tin and a pile of rubbish for years outside a small village shop. The owner grabbed us when she recognized the first opportunity in years to get rid of the danger

A couple invested family funds to open a small shop and then, after they were committed to the location, discovered a bomb thirty feet from their door. From the moment of it’s discovery the bomb controlled their lives. Should they invest more funds in expanding their shop in that location? Should they warm customers about the danger of parking their motorbikes near the bomb? How closely should they monitor smokers who might discard a burning cigarette near the dried grass that hid the bomb from view?

They considered a warning sign but markers would only draw curiosity seekers or scrap collectors or inquisitive children whose tampering might endanger the village. Better, they decided, to cover the bomb with sheets of galvanized roofing material and pile trash on top of it. People in the village would know what lurked beneath the trash; passersby, and children born since the bomb’s discovery, would never explore the site.

I wasn’t in this village five minutes before the shopkeeper trotted up to me and insisted that I look at her bomb. (In a country where you can wait forty years for UXO removal, if you find a bomb, it’s YOUR BOMB. If you find a landmine, it’s YOUR LANDMINE.)

I asked the woman for her patience. Not hours, days, weeks, or months. But, time enough for our team to eat lunch after a morning’s labor in nearby fields. I suspect that she feared we would slip away but we were, after lunch, true to our word.

We carefully moved the device out of the populated area and into the forest for demolition.

The site was too close to habitations for us to do much with it, and not wanting to leave it exposed for any length of time, we chose to transport it out of town for eventual destruction. You might well ask, “How do you transport bombs?” The joke is, we transport them like porcupines make love: very carefully.

All deminers, whether male or female, must work as a team to manage difficult tasks that no single individual could perform.

Conducted in Phongsali Province, March, 2011

Yai
Please introduce yourself.

Davine:
Good morning. My name is Davine. I come from Ban Houayho village. I am 19 years old. I have four brothers and sisters. I am the oldest.

Yai:
What Province?

Davine:
Champasack Province, Paksong District.

Yai:
Is your village situated on the mountain or on the plateau?

Davine:
We live on the plateau.

Yai:
What is the main occupation of the people in your village?

Davine:
We do upland crop farming and coffee farming. Not very people do paddy rice farming.

Yai:
What made you want to come to work as a deminer?

Davine:
I want to gain more experience. Early on, when I was a student, I didn’t do very well in school. I dropped out of school to assist my parents with a charcoal-making project.

When the naiban of our village announced [that a UXO clearance company was looking for workers] I decided to apply. When I asked my parents they agreed. They said if you want to apply, go ahead. That’s when I joined Phoenix Clearance Ltd. (PCL).

Yai:
When you applied, did you think the work would be hard?

Davine:
Many of my friends said, “Work as a deminer is difficult. And, it’s a man’s job!” Some friends asked, “Why would you work for [a UXO clearance company?”]

I told them, “At the beginning I was afraid, but after Mr. Vilasak trained me, I’m no longer afraid. I feel confident now.

Yai:
So, a woman can do the work?

Davine: Yes. Women and men can both do the work. But…perhaps…men can do better.

Yai:
What do you prefer, “area clearance” or “response team”?

Davine:
I like both.

Yai:
Aren’t you afraid of a bomb accidentally exploding?

Davine:
No, I’m not afraid. In the beginning I was a little afraid, but not any longer. Not any more. I like to hear the blast!

Yai:
You like listening to the bang?

Davine:
Yes.

Yai:
We noticed that when you were assigned to work as a sentry and were supposed to use the megaphone to warn people about the demolition, you looked shy. Were you embarrassed to do that?

Davine:
At the beginning, since I never before in my life had used a megaphone, I was a bit nervous. Now, it’s no problem. I can also use the radio. I have no problem now.

Yai:
Do you get homesick?

Davine:
Sometimes.

Yai:
Do you call home, now and then? Who do you call the most?

Davine:
My mother. I miss her.

Yai:
Are you married?

Davine:
No, I’m still single.

Yai:
What did your mother and father tell you when you left home to start work as a deminer?

Davine:
They told me to look after myself. Don’t work hastily. Take it slowly. Try to get along with your teammates. Don’t get clumsy.

Yai:
That’s about working around UXO. Did they give you any advice about life?

Davine:
They also told me, don’t have too many boyfriends. Don’t drink too much because you have work to do.

Yai:
What do you do with the pay that you earned as a deminer?

Davine:
I give it to my mother.

Yai:
What will you buy with your savings?

Davine:
I’d like to buy a motorbike.

Yai:
As a deminer, aren’t you afraid of an accident with UXO?

Davine:
At the beginning I was afraid but after I went to UXO training and I had the experience of working in the field, I lost my fear. But, at the beginning I was afraid. I feel comfortable of handling the job now.

Yai:
Does your village have any history of accidents with UXO? Anyone lost a life, or an arm, or a leg?

Davine:
I’ve seen victims before.

Yai:
How do you feel about the need to clear UXO from your country?

Davine:
I deeply, from my heart, wish to see PCL destroy UXO. Here, [where we are no working] and in my village, Ban Houayho, if that’s possible.

Yai:
How do you think UXO has affected the lives of Lao people?

Davine:
In my village there isn’t too much ordnance so we are not that afraid when we work in the fields. We’re only afraid when we happen upon it. If we don’t see it, we aren’t afraid.

Yai:
When working with a response team you sometimes have to lift big bombs [weighing 300 pounds or more]. Does the work wear you down?

Davine:
No, because in my village I worked harder than this! I worked on our farm and I think that was harder than the work we do as a deminer. I think our work here is much lighter.

Yai:
Could you see yourself doing this work for the rest of your life? Or, do you just want to save some money and then look for different work to do?

Davine:
I think, if its possible, I’d like to continue to work as a deminer, until the end. I don’t care where [in Laos] they have me work.

Yai:
How many Americans have you met?

Davine:
None. We’ll none except Mr. Jim.

Since I was born I haven’t been out of my village much. I just stay close to home. Since I was young I worked on the farm or worked in the house. When the village had a special event I was not allowed to go out and play.

Yai:
How far from your village have you ever travelled?

Davine:
Only within my district. This is my first time out. I’ve never even been to Pakse! Never been there. However, I’ve been to Paksong. Most of my time was spent in my home.

Yai:
How long were you on the bus from your village to here in Phongsali?

Davine:
Three nights and four days!

Yai:
If, as deminer, you visit a school to talk about safety, what would you tell students?

Davine:
I would tell students that UXO is dangerous and nobody should touch or tamper with ordnance. Because UXO can kill. I’d tell them, “If you see it, leave it alone; don’t touch it. Tell an adult and take them to see it. Or, make a sign at the location and ask the UXO response team to deal with it.

Yai:
We’ve noticed that whenever you see babies in the village you are very happy.

Davine:
[Laughs] Yes, because I miss my brothers and sisters. When I see children I think of them. I miss them.

Yai:
Someday, when you are married, how many children do you want to have?

Davine:
[Laughs] Three will be enough!

Now, to compare answers to several questions:

On parental advice:

Kik: My parents told me that when you are working focus on your job; don’t play too much. Concentrate on your work.

Omphon: They told me that when I am far from home I should behave and not go out drinking. I should listen to my boss.

On de-mining being a “man’s job”.

Kik: [Emphatically] A woman can do the work also!

Omphon: In the beginning I knew it was men’s work, but after training I now believe women can do it. I feel confident working with UXO. Because I worked on our farm, I can carry heavy loads.

Nuey: Although many think it’s a man’s job, women can do the work also. In the beginning I was afraid of UXO. I thought I couldn’t do the job. As time went by I got more confident and I’m no longer afraid.

At first I thought it was hard work but once I got into it I found that it wasn’t all that hard. I can do it. I know that its men’s work, but I like it.

On what she will do with her pay.

Kik: I will send all my money to my parents. It’s up to them, what they want to buy. If my mother wants to build a new house, then I will send the money.

Omphon: I give my pay to my parents. They bought a streamer [weed cutter]. They also bought rice because they are poor.

Nuey: I will give it to my mother and my younger sister. I don’t know what my mother will do with the money. Probably buy food. I want my younger sister to go to school.

On homesickness.

Kik: I call my mother every day. I miss her every day. I call my brothers and sisters when I miss them.

Nuey: Mostly, I miss my mother. I call her. I tell her not to worry about me. I’m fine here, working with the UXO team. I’m just worried that she will worry about me, since I’m so far away from home.

Every dry season since 2013 I’ve seen this bomb casing in a village near our camp. It’s not that the responsible team was too busy to destroy the dangerous, intact “booster”. In fact, they refused to make the casing safe until the villagers agreed to give them the casing to sell as scrap.

Two weeks later I was back in that village to meet with the parents of two teens who were killed days earlier when they attempted to scrape mud off an odd device they found but couldn’t identify. What killed the two boys was a “booster” from inside a large, aircraft-delivered bomb. As the term implies, a bomb’s booster (not much larger than a soda can but filled with high explosive) is intended to detonate along with the bomb’s nose fuse and contribute to the detonation of the canister’s main charge.

Ever since that accident I’ve been well aware of the damage a booster alone can inflict and, whenever I encounter a seemingly empty bomb casing, I check to see if one might be lurking within. I’ve been rewarded a surprising number of times.

Three years ago, in Dak Ran village, I spotted a fractured bomb casing with a dented but intact booster — it looked, perhaps not innocent, but far from sinister. Knowing the danger that the device posed should someone tamper with it, or a grass fire heat up the casing, I immediately referred the bomb to the organization tasked to destroy dangerous items in or near that village.

(Keep reading and you’ll learn why I’ve chosen to not name that organization; it wouldn’t be fair to tar an entire organization with a brush intended for just a few irresponsible employees.)

Three years after my referral, I happened upon the same bomb sitting in the same village where I’d encountered it previously. When I asked villagers whether any staff from the responsible organization had inspected the device they told me that deminers had visited, but had refused to destroy the booster unless the man who claimed the casing renounced ownership. (The deminers’ intent was to destroy the booster and then truck the empty casing to the local scrap yard, sell it, and pocket Lao currency equal to twenty or thirty US dollars).

The farmer refused to surrender the casing and the deminers departed, telling him: “You keep the casing; you can keep the booster, too.”

We grew tired of seeing villagers living in harm’s way so we arbitrarily broke the impasse. We destroyed the booster and returned the casing, now safe to sell as scrap, to the family who originally found it.

Yesterday, we broke the impasse. We didn’t ask anyone’s permission; we didn’t bargain. We showed up unannounced, gingerly lifted the casing onto the bed of our pickup and slowly, carefully trucked it into the countryside. Then, we slapped a wad of C4 high explosive onto the booster, retreated a few hundred meters and blew it to bits. We then loaded the casing back in our truck and returned it to, perhaps, the most bull-headed farmer in Sekong Province.

Did we reward a stubborn farmer for putting his neighbors at risk? Frankly, Scarlet… (Sometimes, I simply lack the patience to ponder moral imperatives).

Due to drastic budget cuts UXO/Laos has announced that it is laying off 200 employees, out of a total workforce of 1,200.

[Please note that the original article stated that 500 employees would be laid off. Later, UXO/Lao stated that the correct number is 200]

“These employees are having to leave UXO Lao because there is no money to pay them,” he said.

According to the meeting, on the fourth anniversary of the Entry into Force of the Convention on Cluster Munitions last August, it was reported to international donors that UXO Lao would face shortages in funding and contributions towards the clearance of unexploded ordnance from contaminated areas by the end of last year.

International donors were requested to provide more funds to UXO bodies in Laos so clearance work could continue in the provinces.

The National Regulatory Authority then reported at a two day sector policy forum on the UXO survey in target development areas and UXO victim assistance in October that the number of UXO victims was within the Millennium Development Goal (MDG) No. 9 limit for 2015, but was still too high.

Many people are still being killed or injured by the deadly devices each month.
Mr Saleumsay said it was a challenge to source more funding from international donors for clearance operations.

So far this year, donors have not confirmed they will support UXO clearance in Laos.
Donors may want to know the plans for UXO clearance from now until 2017 as they may want to propose funding support from their governments.

However, UXO Lao and other non-government organisations are set to undertake technical surveys of each area before starting any clearance work.

It is hoped these surveys will show which areas of land need to be cleared and which others are free of UXO.

This preliminary work will result in much faster clearance of large areas, releasing land more quickly for use or development. In the past clearance has been quite slow as they have been following a policy of clearing all areas m arked red on the map, which signifies the areas where UXO is thought to be.

According to the National Regulatory Authority last year, over 44,000 hectares of land have been cleared since 1996.

Up to 37 percent of the country’s total land area, about 87,000 km2, may be contaminated with various types of UXO.

Date: February 2015
Location: Dak Cheung District, Lao PDR.
Topic: Fatal accident that occurred on 9/30/14
Victim: Sunsamay, age 12
Participants: James Harris We Help War Victims
Ko Interpreter
Chansamay Victim’s mother
Keophouvong Victim’s father
Neuphet UNEODCOOPER Team Leader

Sunsamay’s parents returned to the site of their daughter’s fatal accident for the first time in over five months. The garden is weedy from neglect but the family is afraid to work the land until it is cleared of UXO.

Father:
Good morning. My name is Chansamay. I work for the Dak Cheung District Agriculture Office. I have my farm here in Dak Bong.

Mother:
Good morning. My name is Keophouvong. I work for the District Education Office.

Ko:
Please tell me the name of your daughter and her age.

Mother:
My daughter’s name is Sunsamay. She was 12 years old and in secondary school. She was just beginning the second year in her school.

Ko:
How long ago did she lose her life?

Mother:
She was killed on August 30, 2014. A Saturday.

Ko:
I’d like both of you to explain how the accident happened.

Mother:
The accident occurred on a day when we came here to plant coffee. It was on a Saturday, when I had free time from my work. Because my husband and I are government staff, civil servants, we don’t work on the weekends.

On that day, after we finished planting coffee seedlings, we were leaving the farm. We put everything in one of our bags. My daughter told her aunt, “I will help you; I’ll carry the hoe”.

On that day we came on just our motorbike. I planned that I would take two passengers on the bike.

I was just getting dark; it was about 5:30 PM.

My daughter picked up the hoe and started walking along the fence line. I didn’t see the accident happen because I was walking in front of her [and the others]. I walked ahead, two or three meters in front of them. My daughter walked behind me and another lady walked beside her.

Suddenly, I heard a blast — just like a shotgun. Boom!

I thought someone shot a gun. I wondered, “Why are people doing this? It scares me!”

I took another step ahead. Then, suddenly my sister screamed, “Oh! The girl is dead! What are we going to do?”

I looked back and saw that she was killed instantly. There was no sound from her. Only her mouth wide open. I could see her mouth, silent, open and close.

I walked around the hole in the ground and saw that she was completely out. Not a sound from her.

I didn’t know what to do, so I called my brother.

I tried to lift her, but I was frightened. I didn’t know what to do because she was already dead. At first I saw no bleeding.

I had my gloves on. Then, I reached down and touched her forehead where there were two small holes. I used my two fingers to rub her forehead and suddenly blood gushed out of her forehead, spurting. I fainted on the spot.

When I regained consciousness I cried…and wailed… hysterically. I screamed, “Please help me! I’m going to die!” I didn’t know what to do.

My sister and a friend went to the [main] road to ask passersby to help. She tried to get an ambulance to come from Dak Cheung and rescue us.

Two other friends sat and waited with me. Then, they went to the road to catch the ambulance if it came down the road. I called to them, “Can one of you wait here with me?”

They said, “No, I’m afraid! Because it’s dark already.”

So, I decided to let them go and I stayed alone with my daughter. I was alone with her for about thirty or forty minutes.

Suddenly, I felt faint again. I was still conscious but I felt like I would die. I couldn’t stand up or move my body. I had my hands across my chest. I tried to focus.

I knew that my daughter was dead. I pulled on her twisted leg to straighten it. Her body was still soft. I thought maybe her leg was off but it wasn’t. I saw that the flesh was torn so I patted it back in place.

I then felt faint again. I tried to stick my finger in my mouth to pull on my tongue. I touched my ear. It was still there. My entire body felt numb. I thought, “Maybe I was also hit by the bomb”.

I cried as I checked my body, my arms, and my legs. I tried moving. Nothing wrong. Every part of my body was intact. The only feeling I had was numbness. I could not stand up. I just sat there next to my daughter.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a Chinese motor tractor: a “tok-tok”. It came close to me, as close as that tree [She points to a nearby tree]. I called, “Please help me!” I could not move.

The driver ignored me. He didn’t say a thing.

I called again, “Please help me!”

One of the passengers on the tok-tok asked, “Are your arms and legs still attached?”

I said, “Nothing’s wrong with me”. But, I was covered with my daughter’s blood because I had poked my fingers into her wounds [and was spurted with her blood].

The driver said, “Please get out of the way. I’m going home”.

He didn’t provide any help at all. I told him that I couldn’t move.

“You need to help,” I said. “Pull me up. If you don’t, how can I get out of your way?” I thought, “I’m going to die with my daughter”.

The tok-tok driver just stood there and watched. I wanted him to pull my daughter’s body out of the road, so he could pass by.

Father, interrupting:
People nowadays don’t have any heart to help others.

Mother:
It’s not that the tok-tok driver didn’t want to help. He was afraid. I was covered with blood because I was near my daughter and her blood flowed onto me. Because I poked her forehead — that’s why the blood came out.

Ko:
Where did you poke?

Mother;
Right on the two holes in her forehead.

Ko:
How big were the holes?

Mother:
Just large enough for my fingertips to fit in the holes. Before, no blood came out. She was bleeding from her legs and arm but not from her forehead until I put my fingers there. From the moment I poked the holes in her head the blood spurted out. My body was covered with her blood. After I poked, the blood spurted out and I passed out.

A moment later, Mr. Tha and Mr. Chan shouted down the trail to me. He asked me, “Have you lost an arm or a leg?”

Ko:
So…you passed out?

Mother:
This is how I felt: [She first kneels and then demonstrates how she lay on the ground]. I was crumpled on the ground. Then, Mr. Tha and Mr. Chan pulled me up and sat me on a tree stump.

“Don’t cry,” they said.

I said, “I’m so glad you came. Please help me”.

They asked if I was okay. I said, “I’m okay. I’m fine”.

Father:
The people didn’t understand the problem. If people had understood, they could have helped.

Mother:
I said, “Please help me. Give me some water”.
And, [thinking I was wounded] they said, “No we can’t give you water”.

I saw a water bottle on their motorbike. I asked again, “Please give me that water. I’m thirsty”.

They insisted, “No we can’t give you water”.

I said, “Why not? I’m going to die, just like my daughter!” I don’t recall exactly what I said; I was hysterical.

Father:
She was outside herself. [No exact equivalent in English. Has metaphysical implications].

Then, the ambulance arrived. It was completely dark by then. They put me in the ambulance. I again lost consciousness. I didn’t wake up until we reached the hospital.

Father:
She wasn’t strong, like a man.

Mother:
They put all my clothing and my equipment in a rice bag and sent it to the hospital with me.

Meanwhile, my husband was sitting in [? town]. He was attending a meeting. Once he heard the news he returned immediately — the same day.

On Sunday her birth parents came to Dak Cheung. Somebody had called them on Saturday night, but they couldn’t make it that evening because it began pouring rain. Before the accident there was no rain but after Sunsamay died the rain poured all night.

I told her birth parents, “Since I raised her from little until now I will take care of the funeral”.

Because I had pledged to them, before, that I would raise her like my own daughter, send her to school, provide everything that she needs. Her birth mother and father had so many children they could not feed them all. As a matter of fact, they had eleven children.

Ko:
Where were her birth parents from?

Mother:
They were from Dak Seng village. Her father was the naiban of that village and he was happy for us to adopt her to raise as our own.

Father:
He was Mr. Khamheng

Mother:
On Sunday her father came to Dak Cheung.

Father:
We tried to raise her properly but accidents happen.

Mother:
We took care of everything — all the costs from the ambulance to the funeral. I had help from my younger brother. And, from another brother who lives in Vientiane. They helped us with the cost.

I was given an I-V at the hospital. I wasn’t able to move my body in the hospital. I slept. I was still in the hospital when her body was prepared.

I cried and cried. I told the doctor that I wanted to see my daughter but he wouldn’t allow me to be released. They said, “You don’t need to go, everything will be managed without you”. They said, “This is part of the cycle of life”.

I insisted on going. But…the doctor said, “No”. So…I thought to myself, “Maybe the doctor is right. But, I want to see her face.”

I asked my younger brother to go to our house and collect all my daughter’s clothes and other possessions and take them to the burial site. Sunsamay’s birth father said that he would observe all the proper traditions.

Her birth father said, “I do not blame you. We will continue to have good relations”.

He wanted to know the complete story — whether she truly died at the garden and not elsewhere. I was still in the hospital, hooked to the I-V, when her birth father went to the accident site with the village militia. Six village militia went to the site. That’s seven people counting her father; eight counting my own father; all went to the site.

Actually, all total, over ten people went to the accident site to investigate — that included three staff from my work place. They concluded that it was UXO. They said it wasn’t a cluster bomblet because if it was, I wouldn’t have survived. I was very close to her — about four meters away. Or, even three and a half meters. I’m not sure. The others were also very close because we were all walking on the same path — walking in the same tire rut. What you see now isn’t how it was then. The path was only about one meter wide. The road, at that time, wasn’t as clear as it is now.

Nobody thought that there might be UXO on the road, so my daughter walked along, taping the hoe on the ground.

In my life, I’ve always been aware of UXO because this area is contaminated. We see craters everywhere. When I planted coffee seedlings I never let my daughter dig. I always dug the holes myself. She only put the seedlings in the ground and filled the holes with soil. Her father also forbade her to dig in the ground. Only we parents did the digging.

Ko:
Who did you forbid?

Mother:
My daughter. I was worried, since she was so young, that she might not dig carefully.

Father:
We only let her fill in the holes.

Mother:
She only filled in the holes; we did the digging because I worried that a child could be careless when they dig — if they jabbed the soil too hard.

Father:
No, we didn’t ever let the child dig. All the digging was done by us.

Mother:
We think the accident was fated. This happened to us. I wish it would never happen to anyone, but it happened to us.

The person who walked side-by-side with my daughter wasn’t injured, but she was deafened in one ear.

Ko:
So, how many people, in total, walked in your group that day?

Mother:
Five people.

Ko:
What are your thoughts about old ordnance still killing people to this day?

Father:
In my own opinion I wonder why, after forty or fifty years, there are still bombs left? The bombs left here are still dangerous.

Ko:
And, about your land — still not cleared of UXO. How do you feel about digging, planting, growing coffee on uncleared land?

Father:
I am very aware of the danger. So, when I’m digging I try not to force anything; I try to dig lightly, using just enough force for me to plant the coffee seedlings. You know, I want to have a coffee farm like other people around here.

Ko:
So, you are afraid of UXO.

Father:
Yes! Definitely! Like I said: yes, I am afraid.

Ko:
What would you say to other people who do not yet have their land cleared of UXO?

Father:
I would tell them, “If you have uncleared land, please clear the brush very carefully. If you cut the brush pay close attention to how you do the cutting.

Ko:
What do you ask of the people who donate money to fund clearance work?

Mother:
We know the problem exists. I urge projects to come here and help us clear our land. In the village meetings that I attend I always propose to the naiban that he should inform us, the farmers, about which lands have yet to be cleared. To reduce the threat of fatalities, I urge the village authorities to inform us about the presence of UXO.

In the village meeting I asked for a report on UXO. And, for uncleared land I would like a project to help us clear our land safely.

We want the land for our farming, so we can develop ourselves, like other people. Before, I never had any coffee land. I asked my sister to give me a parcel so I could grow coffee like other people. She gave land to me.

Four times I requested to the authorities that someone clear my land. I submitted requests to UXO/Lao many times. I requested help from CARE and I also asked commercial companies to clear my land. The Department of Social Welfare interviewed me about the accident — our bad situation.

I urge people to understand that if we don’t farm we don’t have any way to advance ourselves. What are we going to do?

For the future, I request the UXO agencies to come and help us clear our land. That’s what I ask of the authorities. For the loss of our loved one — there’s nothing that they can do about that.

Ko:
How old are you?

Father:
I am thirty-nine years old. My wife is forty.

Ko:
So you were not even born when the bombs were dropped. Ordnance dropped before you were born, kills your daughter.

Mother:
I feel sad and upset about the accident that happened to my family. But, what can we do if we want to advance ourselves and improve our lives? Although we are civil servants and work full time, we want to use our free time to improve ourselves. Besides relying on our pay, we work on the weekends to earn extra income.

Now that the accident happened to our family I am very discouraged to continue. I have abandoned this farm for almost six months. If you hadn’t asked me to meet you here today, I wouldn’t be here.

Ko:
Why have you not come back?

Mother:
I’m afraid. It’s like I will see the scene again. I still have the images in my mind. She died in my arms. I had to wash her blood off me. I don’t want to ever see that image again.

Ko:
Do you still want to grow coffee?

Mother:
We completed the planting on the day of the accident — 5,300 seedlings in total. We bought all those seedlings ourselves. It was our first attempt at coffee farming. Some seedlings were provided by my sister. My friend Souda and her brother also gave us some seedlings. Our farms are connected to each other.

Ko:
So…since August, when the accident occurred, this is the first day that you have returned to this garden?

Mother:
Yes. Just today. I will never desert our farm but at this time I cannot face the scene. Perhaps in the future — many years from now — when I can focus again I will return and work this farm again.

I still have images of the accident in my mind. The scene when she died always comes back and haunts me. When I close my eyes to sleep I still see it. I can even hear the voices. I’m still living in that horrible time. That’s why I don’t come here.

When I travel past the intersection I always close my eyes. When I reach Dak Run village I open my eyes again. It’s not that I don’t want to see the farm again. It’s just all the feelings and the images that I have. I just cannot forget them.

Ko:
What about the United States? The country that dropped much of the ordnance?

Mother:
To be honest, I feel angry. Everybody wants to live. The accident happened to us. We are very upset. I’m very sorry.

My daughter — I raised her from when she was just this tall [Indicates toddler height] until she was a young person. I still miss her. That’s all I can say now. I feel sorry about everything.

Ko:
So…any message to people who dropped ordnance on this area?

Mother:
I want to tell them about my feelings — about my sorrow. I want to ask them to help us by whatever means they can. Most important, I want them to help us clear our land.

Secondly, I want to ask them to provide whatever assistance they can. Such as, compensation for the death, if there is one. It would help if they could help pay for the hospital and the funeral. If they have available money.

I’m asking that they help us if there is a policy of providing compensation to UXO victims. I’ve heard said that someone makes payment for burial expenses. I know about this because I have been working with authorities in the UXO sector. I think that policy has been extended to villages such as Ban Chaling and Dak Bong.

This year I could not participate in the [UXO safety] campaign because the trauma of the accident hit me. If I went to meetings to share information about UXO and discuss the accident that happened in my family I would break down and cry. It would be too painful.

Speaking from my heart I ask that if there is any assistance, please help us.

Ko:
What are your thoughts about the ordnance having been dropped so many years ago?

Father:
I’m very upset about this. I want the people involved to help us clear our land and, if there is any compensation, to provide it to us. I ask this of any international people, because my daughter died in this accident. I would like the Americans to help us with financial support.

Mother:
I have proposed this to many organizations — to support us — but I don’t get any encouragement. My feelings right now? I feel left alone and really upset.

I want to improve our standard of living. How can we improve ourselves if the danger is still there? What I’m begging for now is to help us clear our farm, where we want to make a living.

Secondly, I want them to help us with support. As a mother, I have lost a lot of money for funeral and hospital expenses, ceremonies. And, the like.

Mother:
People ask me, “If the land was not cleared, why did you farm there?” They say, “You knew this was an old battlefield, why didn’t you choose a better place?”

Well, in our own minds, we were suspicious that the land held UXO but we didn’t know it for a fact. When the accident happened, then we said, “Oh my god! It’s really happened to us! UXO is truly here.”

In the past, we didn’t see any UXO. We only thought of the possibility. Not just me. Everyone else thinks that UXO is probably underground somewhere. But, we didn’t see it. So…we went ahead and farmed. Then, it happened to us. We’re upset and we want to share our sorrow with other people and tell them that they need to be careful. I have talked and talked when we have village meetings.

Ko:
What kind of girl was your daughter, as a person?

Mother:
She loved to go to school. She was a quick learner — not first in her class but second or third. She liked both singing and dancing. She was in a school singing and dancing club. She didn’t much enjoy sports.

She was just twelve years old and didn’t much like leaving the house. I taught her a lot: how to behave properly and how to conduct herself.

You see, I had difficulty bearing a girl. I had only boys. So, when I adopted her I was so pleased. She became my daughter. Even though I wasn’t her birth mother, she was my daughter in every way.

She had potential in education and music. She was very smart in school and focused on her education. She liked to sing and dance and when she came home from school she’d still be singing. Sometimes she’d use the mobile phone and dance with the music from the phone.

As to helping with family chores, I know the child protection laws; I never had her work too hard around the house. She would help with the light work.

Ko:
What do you remember from the moment of the accident?

Mother:
I didn’t see because I was walking in front of her. My sister who was walking beside her didn’t see anything either. We only heard the blast. When I turned around I saw she was lying down.

There was no smoke from the blast. Things looked normal. It sounded like a shotgun. There was no vibration [shock wave].

I was over there [pointing]. Mrs. Net was right here [pointing]. They were walking here [pointing]. Another lady was behind, over there [pointing].

The interview is joined by Neuphet, our Team Leader. He takes the parents to the portion of their garden that the team had already cleared and shows them a cluster bomblet in the bottom of a hole.

Mother: [Seeing how close the hole is to a coffee seedling].

We just missed that one, by just a little bit! Look where we planted the coffee! I’m the person who dug here and I just missed hitting that bombie! I was very close to it. I used a small spade and dug like this [Demonstrates slow movements]. I just missed that bombie. If I’d hit that bomblet, you know what would have happened. Me! I did all this planting in here.

But, the coffee isn’t very healthy here. I don’t know why. Maybe crickets are destroying it.

I did all the digging here. My daughter only filled in the holes and covered the seedlings.

Ko:
When you cleared this area of brush, in order to plant, did you find any UXO?

Father:
No, I didn’t see any. I only saw fragments.

Mother:
I never saw any bomblets — only small fragments.

Father:
I collected two or three buckets-full of fragments. The same stuff that your de-miners find. My daughter also collected scrap. Each time she collected she got two or three rice bags full and she sold it to the scrap dealer. My son and others also collected scrap and took it to sell.

Mother:
I told him, “If you find any UXO don’t pick it up”.

Mother’s friend:
My son also collects the scrap. He digs to find it; that terrifies me.

Mother:
If we stand here too long, might something happen? Because, I’m scared.

Neuphet:
No. If we don’t touch it or make contact, nothing is going to happen.

The group walks from the garden and mother speaks.

Mother:
She was my daughter. I still have images haunting me every day. I still see her dead image.

Neuphet:
You didn’t have luck raising a daughter.

Mother:
That’s right. I could not raise a girl. That’s why she’s no longer with me.

Neuphet:
It’s sad, but true.

Mother:
That’s right. Some people believe in fate.

Neuphet:
Just as fortunetellers predict.

Father:
We didn’t have a girl so we adopted her to be our daughter.

Ko:
Why, again, did you start working the land before it was cleared?

Father:
I never thought it would be 100% safe here. I knew this place used to be a battlefield. I chose the site for my coffee farm because my friend gave the land to me. Since she gave it to me, I went ahead and started farming.

I decided to farm because of the closeness and convenience. I could get friends to look after the farm when I’m not available. If I go to some other location, then I wouldn’t have help from my family and friends. Plus — other place? There’s no land available. Fortunately my friend here — she had a lot of land and she gave me this parcel so I could farm. I asked her and she gave it to me.

Mother:
Yes, I was scared. But I had no choice, because of our poverty. We had to do something. This was the only land given to me by friends. Of course I was afraid. That’s why I was very cautious when I worked. I was scared.

I had a suspicion that the area was contaminated with UXO because I could see many craters around here — three craters on our farm alone. So…there must be something here. I was very cautious, but in spite of caution this was a risk we had to take — because we wanted to farm like others do.

Since the accident five months ago I have never returned to this farm. That’s why you see so many weeds around here. Had the accident not happened this farm would be more clear of weeds and brush than this.

When I weed [in the future] I’m going to be frightened. I have it in my mind that when I cut brush I’d better cut at a high level, not low, for fear of hitting something.

It’s necessary for us to have a farm so we can earn extra income for the family. Had I known that an accident would happen I never would have worked this parcel. We got land for a farm but lost our daughter. That loss outweighs everything else.

I was scared about the land but we went ahead with farming anyway and eventually a nightmare came true. Now I’m terrified.

Ko:
Your first time back.

Father:
Because we have not recovered from the trauma. We saw with our own eyes…and that causes us pain.

Mother:
[Pointing to a cellphone photo of her daughter’s body, taken at the accident site] This is where her leg got smashed from the blast. It’s not ripped off; it’s still attached. All her fingers, her arms, all parts of her body were still attached. But this is where her flesh was torn [Pointing to the pictured body].

Her head, right here, was hit by fragments. If you look at the photo, this way, you see that her head was not torn. It only has fragment holes.

This is where I sat [pointing]. I sat right here. I could not stand up. All her blood…when it came…it covered me. She was hit just above her eyebrows.

Ko:
Do you have any photos of your daughter before the accident?

Mother:
No. They all went to the funeral with her other possessions. But the school might have a photo.

Also, I will call on Monday to see if my friend still has the accident photos on her computer. If she still has them, the pictures on the computer are very clear.

Neuphet:
I’m certain that the accident was not caused by a cluster bomblet. If it had been a cluster bomblet, then none of you would have survived.

Mother:
Other people have told us the same thing.

Neuphet:
Nope. Not a bombie. I think it could have been a fuse, or a shell. Because, a bombie? Then, you would all be dead.

The people who walked near her: none of them were injured?

Mother:
No, none of them were hurt. Only one person got a deaf ear and her hat was blown off her head into the crater.

Neuphet:
The hat fell off her head? That means that when the ordnance blew there was a shockwave.

Mother:
Maybe the blast knocked her hat off her head.

Neuphet:
If the hat had a puncture hole in it, that would mean that the hat was hit by shrapnel.

Mother:
I don’t know. Maybe frag went through the hat.

Neuphet:
No, no, no.

Mother:
The person standing next to her didn’t know anything. The only thing…she came running to me, crying. I asked, “Why are you crying?”

Then, she said, “Don’t you see? Your daughter is dying!”

I looked back and [at first I] thought it was the screaming lady who had been hit by shrapnel. She was standing right here, as a matter of fact. I thought it was her, [the older woman], who was lying down. I had blurred vision at the time.

Neuphet:
No. Not a bombie. Must be a fuse or a shell. A fuse can kill you also.

Mother:
The shrapnel hit her in the forehead and made two holes.

Father:
Right in the brain. Both holes, right here [pointing].

Mother:
Both holes, right here [pointing]. Above her eyebrow.

Father:
Her hands and her arms were both cut. The flesh on her hands was peeled off like a glove. It looked like we could peel it off.

Neuphet:
I’ll tell you this: if you think it was a bombie…

[Neuphet proceeds to describe an accident he was familiar with in which two individuals both received fatal wounds].

He concludes with the words, “If it was a bombie, then none of you would have survived”.

Later, while the parents are elsewhere, Neuphet holds a 20mm shell found on the site and explains:

When the shell is fired the head will hit the target and because it has a nose fuse, it will explode.

Ko:
So, you suspect a shell like that?

Neuphet:
Yes, I suspect this one.

Ko:
Is a small shell like that powerful enough to destroy a hoe?

Neuphet:
Oh, yes. Nothing will stop it. It would rip the hoe apart. The head of the shell is about thumb-sized. It has an impact fuse in the head. When the shell is fired the head will travel. When it reaches the target the head of the shell will explode. Boom!

It’s a different shell than a normal rifle shell — like those fired by an AK47 or M16. When you fire a rifle the head of the shell goes through the object. It does not explode.

But this one [the 20mm shell] will explode because inside the head there is high explosive and at the tip there is a fuse that we call an impact fuse.

When the shell is fired the tip hits the object and then an explosion will occur. That can kill people. Not just people it can also damage vehicles. A hoe like that? It would never stand a chance.

If the girl struck this type of shell she was very unlucky. Why? Because the tip is very small and she managed to hit it just right. That’s what I call bad luck.