Between 1959 and 1975 the USA fought the most popular overseas war ever. It was a battle of ideology so important to the American belief of liberty and freedom that right and left temporarily aligned in their unanimous support for the conflict. Student unions everywhere gathered to protest their own silent agreement on the cause and celebrate this new road to worldwide democracy. Richard M. Nixon was re-elected to the White House after continued military involvement.  It was called the Vietnam War, and though it's status as the most popular war in history is being threatened by America's current efforts in Iraq, it will always be remembered as a time when America said "no," stood up to a threat to freedom and the world applauded. With a standing ovation.  

I'm currently in Laos, a small country sandwiched between Thailand and Vietnam like a runny egg bap dribbling yolk onto Cambodia. Travel bible The Lonely Planet says it has the dubious distinction of being "the most heavily bombed country on Earth." 

When I read this, two words sprung to mind. The first was "Eh?" and the second was "How?" More bombed than Germany, the subject of heavy aerial bombardment in the largest war the world has ever seen? More bombed than Iraq, the subject of two different US lead wars in the last sixteen years? More bombed than the stretch of road where Wile E. Coyote was persistently trying to thwart the sprint of the Road Runner? Come to think of it, I've never heard

of a war in Laos. I hadn't even heard of the country until a friend visited it two years ago. This heavy but largely unknown bombardment took place in the Loation Civil War, known commonly as The Secret War. Now follows the briefest history of the conflict I can muster. In the Vietnam War (which wasn't quite as popular as I said in the first paragraph, in fact the only element of truth in it was the bit about Nixon, which remains an odd truism) the North Vietnamese ran a supply line, called the Ho Chi Minh Trail, to the south through North Eastern Laos. In the process they were also assisting Pathet Lao, a Communist movement in the country. America was unable to intervene with direct military action because they had signed agreements confirming the neutrality of Laos. So they did the honourable thing; they got the CIA to train tens of thousands of locals to fight the People's Army of Vietnam, the National Liberation Front and the Pathet Lao. Over the course of the war, the US also heavily bombarded parts of the Ho Chi Minh Trail as well as areas of Laos subject to Communist advance, including the Plain of Jars. One of their several bombing campaigns, Operation Commando Hunt, lasted from 1968 to 1972.

The effects of this heavy and futile bombardment are still evident today, in ways that are both tragic and hilarious. The Pathet Lao overthrew the existing Laos ruler in 1975, a regime change many believe wouldn't have been as successful without the anti-Americanism bred by the Secret War. The Pentagon refuses to release render safe procedures on the many bombs that litter the Laos countryside because they still use them in conflict. As a result, the efforts of British-based Mines Advisory Group to clear the country of UXOs (Unexploded Ordnance) are crushingly slow, and there are still approximately 50 deaths a year from remnants of the decades old conflict. What's amusing is the Laos people's flippancy to the tons of shells left as remnants of the war. When not being used to fuel business (a MAG worker I spoke to called the US bombing campaign in Laos both "the largest donation of scrap metal"  and "the largest cash donation"  to a country ever), the masses of bombs are used for, well, whatever a poor Laotion needs it for!

Shells are used as makeshift grills for cooking meat inside. Other shells are used as part of the decor for hotels and bars. Inevitably, kids play hide and seek in the larger bombs. Amusingly, I found out the first fact when our tour guide, a local named Ken, talked with visible upset of his sadness at the many wars in the world, especially the Afghan war. On our way out he smiled and said, without irony, it was a shame we wouldn't be around for one of the hotel's "Bomb BBQs."

The Pathet Lao

from the American accented sky, and feature dozens of pictures of the damage inflicted on their beautiful countryside by craters. Humorously, of all the bars in the otherwise nondescript town of Phonsavan, none have as much character or aesthetic invite as Craters, making it a hot spot for tourists who come to visit the nearby Plain of Jars.

So perversely, Laos' tourism and metal economies have a lot to thank America for. And indeed, maybe they do. The current price for an American visa to Laos costs $35, whereas a Canadian one costs $42. Not a bad arrangement for those south of the border, considering Canada is the country that didn't drop two million tons of bombs between 1964 and 1973. It's the equivalent of a bully giving your friend a dead arm every day for ten years, only for the bully then to be picked as best man for his wedding. It might even be time for the American government to publicly address its honourable work in advancing the economy of Laos. It would be a great opportunity to make their current, unpopular foreign policies like Iraq and the Afghanistan war seem like economic philanthropy. 'Hey, we're not fighting these countries to combat an unseen enemy. We're kick starting a tourism industry, as well as giving them a chance at a new economy based on theme bars.' And with that, I'm heading off to Baghdad to open a pub called Car Bomb's. Give it a decade and those student backpackers are going to love it.

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