Luang Prabang, City of the Golden Buddha, is officially the "royal capital" of Laos. Except for the king's palace there is little that in any way seems royal. It is Laos's second largest city with a population of 45,000. Only two of the streets have any paving at all, and on these it is very thin and cracking. All others are dirt roads. There is one hotel and within it the only Western-style restaurant. In addition there are about five Chinese restaurants. When I was there the city's only movie theatre was showing Clint Eastwood in a dubbed version of "Where Eagles Dare."

Although it lacks royalty, Luang Prabang in peace time would be a quite, restful city. As it is today the only time it seems quiet and restful is if you hold your ears. Planes fly low overhead almost constantly. Every two minutes a plane takes off from Luang Prabang airport--without a doubt the busiest one-strip airport in the world. The noise is often so great that people standing more than two feet apart must shout in order to converse. This goes on 24 hours a day.

The airport is served by only two airlines, Royal Air Lao, which flies three flights a day, and Air America, which officially flies ten. The other planes are ostensibly flown by members of the Royal Lao Air Force. However, in town I talked to several Thai and Filipino mercenaries who said they also flew missions.

In the center of Luang Prabang is a tall hill that rises suddenly and provides an excellent view of the city, its airport, and the surrounding valley which is circled by more abrupt mountains. At night I climbed with several friends to the top of the hill. We watched the airplanes take off and fan out over the mountains. Shortly afterwards the horizon would light up from the explosion of bombs. This was repeated about every ten minutes. When I asked a Lao friend what targets were just over the mountains he said no one lived there any more. Everyone had been told to move to the Luang Prabang valley in 1964.

The bombing of civilian targets in Laos began in 1964 and was escalated in 1969 to an intensity unprecedented in the history of warfare, including atomic bombing. Most of the bombers come from the huge American bases in Thailand. One old refugee said, "The planes came like birds, and the bombs fell like rain."

Fred Branfman interviewed over 1000 refugees in government centers during 1970. Branfman reported that "each, without exception, said that his village had been totally levelled by bombing. Each, without exception, said that he had spent months or even years on end hiding in holes or trenches dug in foothills."

Harrison Salisbury, during his visit to North Vietnam, was told by a foreign Communist who had visited the Pathet Lao headquarters in Sam Neua: "You cannot imagine what it is like in the headquarters of these people. Never is there any halt in the bombing. Not at night: Not by day. One day we were in the cave. The bombing went on and on. The toilet was in another cave only 20 yards away. We could not leave. We could not even run the 20 yards. It was too dangerous."

The horror of life outside of the enclaves of American power is almost too great to believe. One woman wrote of her pre-refugee life in the Plain of Iars, a strategic valley in Northern Laos which was formerly littered with huge stone cisterns thought to be ancient funeral urns. It is now a deserted wasteland. She reported: "Every day and every night the planes came to drop bombs on us. We lived in holes in order to protect our lives...Thusly, I saw the life of the population and the dead people on account of the war with many airplanes in the region of Xiengkhouang. Until there were no houses at all. And the cows and buffalo were dead. Until it was levelled and you could see only the red, red ground. I think of this time and I am still afraid."

The people in the area outside of U.S. control come out only at dusk and dawn to try to grow enough rice and manioc to survive, but planes attack any sign of life. Anything moving is shot at--even trails and cultivated fields are bombed. Reportedly all strategic targets of any kind have been destroyed, and the bombing is now simply plowing up ground.

Even inside caves people are not safe from bombing. Phosphate bombs are dropped around cave entrances; the smoke from these bombs blinds those inside and eventually causes loss of consciousness and death. Those who flee from smoke-filled caves are later attacked with high-explosive bombs. In addition, the bombardment is said to include guided missiles that dive into caves.

The horror of the war--if something so one-sided can be called war--is made increasingly tragic by the utter simplicity of the Lao people.

One afternoon in Luang Prabang I sat drinking the juice of a coconut on the banks of the Mekong. I had just begun a second coconut when a Lao in an air force uniform sat down beside me and told me I should not drink so much coconut juice. I told him that people in India believe coconut juice makes you strong.

He said this was not true. He said that he had been told when he was in America training as a pilot that oranges and applies make you strong.

"They say that because in American there are no coconuts," I replied. "Coconuts are better than oranges and apples."

After a moment of thought he said, "If this is true why are Laotians, who eat coconuts, so small and Americans, who eat oranges and applies, so big."