Day 344 - The Bokor Hill Station story

We met Mr Cheang Try outside his shop in the small village of Kampot. He is a wiry man with small, bright eyes and a big smile. He offered us the services of his van for $60 a day. Included in that price, he said, would be the opportunity to hear his story.

The drive to Bokor Hill Station took about an hour and a half. We stopped at the market beforehand, picking up water, fruit and six servings of chicken, pork and rice.

Being Khmer New Year, the company who had recently bought the site from the Cambodian government (to build a 500-room casino) had re-opened the road for the week. So, the place described as 'the eeriest place in the world' was teeming with revellers, making it decidedly un-eery.

We wandered through the empty shell of the casino for an hour, imagining 1930s French aristocracy coming up the mountain to escape the maddening heat of the coast, to fling their imperial spoils across crap tables.

Eventually, after getting our fill, we headed back to the car for lunch. There, Mr Try began his incredible story.


"I was born in 1959 - I'm 51 - and grew up under the Khmer Rouge. Times were hard. Everyone was marched out of the cities, out of our homes, repatriated to the countryside. There, everyone was made to work on the land, as slaves to Khmer Rouge. I was kept together with my parents and sister, but never saw my grandparents again.

Life was hard. We had little to eat. Usually a bowl of watery rice porridge a day. All were expected to do a full days work. Men, women, children, young and old. We were so hungry, but still we had to work.

Sometimes, I would sneak into the forest at night, looking for food. One time, I found a sweet potato. I cooked it there and then in the forest, and brought it back so my family could share it.

I don't know how they knew, but the Khmer Rouge came into our hut almost immediately. The said we had stole from the government. They tied us together in a line, our hands bound behind our backs. Then they blindfolded us and we began marching.


After some time, we stopped. They removed our blindfolds. They cut my mother and father free from my sister and I, took a club, and bludgeoned them to death with a single blow to the back of their heads. This they did in front of my eyes.


Next they cut my sister free from me. I realised that I was no longer tied to anyone else. So, when they guards were not looking, I turned and ran. I ran into the forest, away from the place where they killed my family.


I ran for a long time, deep into the forest. For many days, I could hear the Khmer Rouge searching for me. Eventually, the voices went away and I was alone. I was nineteen.

I stayed in the forest for two years. I learned what plants to eat and what plants not to eat. I found a nettle that, when rubbed on the skin, would emit a smell that made the cobra avoid me. I learned how to hunt and which animals to avoid. 

To escape from a tiger, I learned that it is important not to look into his eyes. He doesn't like that. To escape from a bear, I learned to run in zig-zags. The bear is fast, but he cannot change direction quickly. I learned that to catch a cobra, one need only come at him from the front. Cobras cannot see forward too well.


During this time, I kept moving. I never slept in one place more than once. I was seeking the Thai border, whilst trying to avoid the Khmer Rouge.


After many months, I realised I had no idea where the Thai border was. I began following the sound of gunfire. I thought that perhaps if I could find where people were fighting, I might also find the frontier. 

One day, following gunshots, I spied a young boy with a hunting rifle. I followed him at a distance. He lead me back to a house, where he began talking to his family. They didn't speak Khmer, they spoke Vietnamese. I approached them.


They were shocked to see me. I was twenty-two, but I looked like a wild animal. They took me in, bathed me, fed me and gave me a bed. The next day, they took me to the Vietnamese army command. I had stumbled into Vietnam.


I had a lot of anger inside me. So, I joined the Vietnamese army. I headed back into the jungles, with a troop. We hunted the Khmer. We laid mines up around Bokor Hill Station, because we knew how badly the Khmer wanted to hold the station. Eventually, I came to command over 200 men, all wanting the same thing. To destroy the Khmer, to liberate Cambodia. 


It was tough. The Khmer were fierce soldiers. Nixon was dropping bombs everywhere. It was a hard time. I lost many soldiers, many friends. 


One time, I was chasing two Khmer soldiers through the jungle. As I was running, I stepped on something and heard a 'click'. I knew it was a mine, but I couldn't stop. The explosion sent shrapnel up into my knee. I was lucky though. Russian doctors look care of me and removed all the metal pieces."


At this point, I got up and offered my chair to Mr Try. He gave me a kindly look and told me that he walks fine now and is very fit. I became aware of the ridiculousness of my gesture. Offering my chair to a man who had been through more hardship and pain in his life than most could even possibly compute. I sat down again and he continued.

"I remember the battle of Bokor Hill well. We captured the station. The Khmer Rouge had the Catholic Church. Our machine gun, mounted on the top of the casino, could not quite reach their position. However, they, with their anti-aircraft gun, could certainly fire at us! However, because of the land mines, they couldn't reach us. 


Eventually, the Khmer were beaten. Then the UN came in. They started to try and remove the mines. I had kept a record of every mine I had laid, written down the exact location, so I began to help them. They taught me English.


Eventually, my wife spoke to me about how long I had been away. She had sent me telegrams telling me of the birth of my children! They had been growing up without me. They needed a father. So, I went home.


I started working as a guide for Intrepid. I got quite a reputation, but I had to travel a lot. Too much. So I stopped that. Now, I live in Kampot, with my wife, my family and my little business.


It's easy to be angry. But that anger will get me nowhere. I prefer to look forward to the future, and put the past behind me. I have four children - perhaps because of all the cobra blood-wine I drank in the army! - and in them I see a strong future for Cambodia. 

Each day, I walk one hour in the morning and one hour at night. I eat well. I am 51, but I would like to live for some time. I want to be around, so I can see the bright future I believe Cambodia has before it"


The photos from Kampot and Bokor Hill Station.