By Larry Shurilla
“Once we had the tapestry and with the Viet Cong closing in, Blia and I decided to make the break for freedom to Thailand. Almost daily, other former soldiers and their families would also make the escape attempt from Laos. The North Vietnamese army was well aware of this, Justin, and had just about every inch of the Mekong River guarded with armed patrols. The Mekong River is the long, natural boundary between Thailand and Laos. The nighttime was our best chance of escape. Under the cover of darkness, many of us could swim or float across the river to safety, but there were so many dangers to overcome. The Mekong River was almost a mile wide at some points, quite deep, and had many raging currents. Even the best of swimmers would have trouble swimming that far under perfect conditions; but at night, with soldiers firing automatic rifles at you and patrolling the river in swift boats, making that swim was nearly impossible. To make matters worse, sometimes the darkness and swirling currents could disorient you and turn you around! You would think you were paddling or swimming to Thailand, when in fact, you were going directly back toward Laos and back into the hands of an angry group of North Vietnamese soldiers! If it was a cloudy night, thinking the stars would help guide your direction was a big mistake!
“Blia and I decided our best chance at escape was to construct a crude raft and paddle across the river with Paxia and Sher onboard. Paxia was old enough to carry some food and help paddle the boat, but Sher was born in the jungle about 6 months before our escape attempt. We were very worried that he would begin to cry and give away our position, so we gave him a rice-sized piece of opium. Do you know what opium is, Justin?”
“I think it’s a really strong drug that’s illegal.”
“Yes, very powerful and very addictive, and for a baby that small, it could be deadly; but we had to take the chance. The opium would make him sleep a really deep sleep. You couldn’t wake him up if you tried. We just hoped and prayed that the next morning, when the trip was all over, he would be able to regain consciousness. The risk of Sher crying out was just too great to do nothing.”
“What did your raft look like, Grandpa?”
“I had bartered with the little food we could scrounge up with some of my friends and obtained six bamboo poles, four black plastic garbage bags, and a paddle. Blia and I rummaged in the jungle for some long grasses that we dried and wove together into fairly strong cords. I used four of the poles to make a square and criss-crossed the square with the other two bamboo poles. It looked like a large flat square with a giant X in the middle. We tied the poles together where they met with the woven cords. Then I blew up the four garbage bags like big, black, balloons and tied them to the four corners of the raft to help it stay afloat.”
“Grandpa! I’ve seen that funny looking balloon boat on Grandma’s tapestry!”
“It wasn’t pretty, Justin, but it was our only hope of gaining freedom.”
*****
“The night of our escape, the summer air was hot, heavy, and wet. Thick clouds blanketed the sky. The moon was hidden and not one star peeked through the dense black barricade. We positioned some of our friends throughout the jungle and along the Mekong’s shoreline. Although it wasn’t much, we had some light from fungus lanterns we had made ourselves. The lanterns didn’t give off much light, but we hoped they were just bright enough for each of us to see our way in the pitch dark and just dim enough not to be seen by the Viet Cong. We were each carrying a small amount of food and water strapped to our homemade backpacks and Blia, besides carrying Baby Sher, also carried the family tapestry, wrapped tightly in plastic. When the path to the river was clear, our spotters whistled and we made our run for the river! Because I was deaf, I had to totally rely on Blia and Paxia for hand signals on when to move out.
“We hid the raft under some thick brush about 20 feet from the river’s edge. As soon as we uncovered the raft, we dragged it along the shore and pushed it into the river. We all laid down, face first, on the raft, and started paddling for our lives. We hadn’t made it 20 meters into the river when a strong wave came out of nowhere and flipped the raft over! One second I was furiously paddling and the next I was gulping dirty river water and gasping for breath! To make matters worse, Blia let me know she heard voices in the near distance hollering and shouting. We knew the Viet Cong were hot onto us and had picked up our trail. And then the bullets began.
“I somehow managed to turn the raft over, but the paddle along with one of the garbage bags was lost. Blia held tightly onto Baby Sher and luckily he was still in a deep, drugged and now wet, sleep. Paxia was shivering with fright and frantic, but we all knew what was at stake and somehow managed to get back onto the raft and start paddling again. Blia kept motioning to me that the voices on shore were getting louder and louder. Soon came the shower of bullets. I looked back at the shore and saw gun flashes that looked like a swarm of fireflies blinking in the dark. Blia later described the crack, crack sound of rifles fired from shore and the almost simultaneous sounds of pfffft, pfffft, plooch, plooch as the bullets flew over our heads or speared the water all around us.
“Paddling in the darkness with all that commotion, knowing we could die at any moment, I prayed with all my heart, ‘Dear God, please protect my family! Please guide us to safety! I know you have a plan for us! Please Dear God, Please!’
“It wasn’t much, Justin, but right after I prayed, something was different. I felt a touch of peace, a calm resolve. Blind fear had left me and I started to hope again. The river became less choppy and the bullets finally stopped. It seemed like we had been paddling for hours, but I knew we would somehow make it to shore. I just hoped it was the right shore!
“At long last, we beached the raft, hopefully, on the shore of Thailand. We were absolutely exhausted. After we climbed off the raft, we looked at it and noticed it was literally unraveling at the seams. Many of the ropes we used for fastening the poles together were loose and frayed, barely holding the thing together! Another few minutes in the water and we would have sunk. Since we weren’t sure if we had really made it to Thailand or had gone off course and returned to Laos, we dragged the raft a little inland and hid it under some cover. After resting a few minutes, we started to cautiously make our way into the jungle while Blia and Paxia listened intently. They were listening for voices they couldn’t understand—that was the sign that we were in Thailand and not back in Laos. It took about an hour, but they finally heard voices speaking a strange language and we knew we had made it. We walked up, with our hands raised high in the air, to a group of Thai soldiers that were just sitting around a campfire. They knew right away we were Hmong refugees and had us stay put while they figured out what to do with us. Just then, the sun began to rise and color returned to our dark, jungle world. The morning light touched baby Sher on his face and for the first time in many hours, his eyes fluttered open! We were all so relieved and then suddenly realized the escape had taken all night.
*****