Cambodian Rescue

By Melissa Martina Gettys

Several years back, I had the privilege of making the acquaintance of a very quiet and unobtrusive young lady from Cambodia. She and her sister were in the United States completing their course of studies at a university where I was teaching that semester. During conversations with her, I discovered that her parents had survived the infamous Killing Fields. Some tales stood out more than the rest. In particular, the tales of American forces heroically pulling out citizens and missionaries just prior to the mass killings by the Khmer Rouge. This is the story of a CIA operative in Cambodia, his protg, his daughter, and an amazing rescue that represents the life and love of a young couple who must now acclimate into an American culture that neither one recalls.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524648213

Melissa Martina Gettys

Melissa Gettys is a writer of fiction, nonfiction, periodical articles, and journal articles. Her primary focus is on capturing pieces of history and recreating the people and stories that made it happen. Her other books, James Gettys and The Music Man and The Witch, are scheduled to release in 2017.

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© 2011, 2016 Melissa Martina Gettys. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/29/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4822-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4821-3 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Introductory

Chapter One Anything but Chance

Chapter Two A Long Time Coming

Chapter Three When It All Comes Down

Chapter Four When It All Comes Down

Chapter Five Hearts on the Mend

Chapter Six Long Way Back

Chapter Seven Orders to Kill

Chapter Eight Not What They Expected

Chapter Nine No Place Like Home

Chapter Ten Music to My Ears

Chapter Eleven Destiny

Chapter Twelve Best Laid Plans

Chapter Thirteen The Monks of Preah Khan

Chapter Fourteen Fenced In

Chapter Fifteen Seat of My Soul

Afterword

About the Author

This book is

dedicated

to Emily, Henry, and

Evelyn, for blessing

us with their joy

and teaching

us love

Chah, my babies!

INTRODUCTORY

Several years back, I had the privilege of making the acquaintance of a very quiet and unobtrusive young lady from Cambodia. She and her sister where in the United States completing their course of studies at a university where I was teaching that semester. Being new in the country, the young woman had no friends, so she often stayed after class and asked questions about the school, the courses she was studying, and American culture.

During these conversations, I discovered that her parents had survived the infamous Killing Fields. I also learned that her family home had no running water or electricity. And, even though they were farmers, she’d never seen a tractor, a baler, or even a horse. They did all their work by hand, with old metal plows and an even older mule.

The last day of the semester before my children and I packed our bags to leave, we took the young lady out to dinner and then to see our horse - the phantom animal she’d only known in books. My children spent an evening they’ll never forget, hearing stories about her tiny village in Cambodia. The young woman spent an evening she’ll never forget seeing the city, the suburbs, and a newborn foal at the horse stables.

Throughout the excitement of the evening, some tales stood out more than the rest, in particular, the tales of the plight of the people in the years following the take over of Cambodia by the Khmer Rouge. Most importantly, what I’ve learned since then is that British, French, and American forces heroically pulled out citizens and missionaries just prior to the mass rounds ups by the Khmer Rouge. Then the troops went back in, amidst the danger and the chaos, and rescued a group of peaceful and innocent monks who were targeted by the Khmer Rouge as their next victims.

Yet, somehow among all these harrowing rescues, no one ever looked back and thanked the men and women who risked their lives to be involved. In fact, when troops returned to the States, they were so chastised that the rescue mission was rarely ever discussed. For the 10 million Cambodians left behind, 1.5 million became victims of the Killing Fields - 1.5 million people, living peacefully and quietly in tiny villages in the countryside, unaware and oblivious to what was about to befall them.

CHAPTER ONE

Anything but Chance

Cambodia, Spring 1965 - She sat as still as she could, watching the frail village elder move the small brush slowly up and down on her arm. Her father’s shadow was visible, pacing back and forth just outside of the tiny hut. The smoky fire inside smelled of elderberry and pine; Micki’s eyes burned. She blinked a couple of times, trying to watch the man finish the fancy script marking. He made one last stroke, sat back, and waved her away. Micki stood up and bowed, respectfully: Aagon. He waved her away, again.

Micki stepped out of the hut and bent over trying to cough the remnants of the smoky air out of her lungs. As she stood up and cleared her throat, she noticed the first wife of the village elder staring at her. Something inside of Micki made her smile. It didn’t matter what the villagers thought, anymore - about her light blonde hair, about her half American father, because like all her friends in the village, Micki was now betrothed. She looked over at her father and smiled. He nodded his head, signaling to her to follow him back home. As she walked behind him on the path through the dense jungle, she looked down at the initials on her left arm. KK, she whispered, Kase Karson.

Cambodia, Spring 1970 - When her father broke the news, it was still a couple of days before Micki’s eighteenth birthday. Although Micki was brought up never to question her father’s authority, she could tell something was wrong. Micki, very soon you will get to see Kase, again, Rand started, with his usual methodical pacing. Kase is here in Cambodia, and he’ll be here in Kampong Sing. In fact, he may here already. Rand sighed and walked around the table to the other side.

I’m not sure I understand, Father. The letter I just received from KK said it would be a couple more months before he finished his assignment in Laos, Micki said. She sat tight on her cushion and watched her father for his reaction.

Well, as you know, sometimes his letters take a long time to arrive. We don’t exactly have modern mail delivery in Cambodia. Anyway, Kase has ended his assignment sooner than expected in order to help me. You see, I’m in a bit of a bind, and well he doesn’t want you caught up in the middle of it. He is coming now, and he is not pleased. Rand Segal stopped and put his hand over his eyes for a moment. You see, I’ve not followed up on my end of the betrothal arrangement, Micki.

Father, I’m confused, Micki let out, feeling herself begin to panic. Kase is still going to marry me, right?

Rand waved his hand in the air, as if to dismiss her worry. Of course. Kase is loyal to the end, Micki. He never reneges; always remember that. As I said, this mess is all my doing. Rand took a deep breath. You see, a few months back, I was supposed to send you to the states, to his family’s ranch, to wait for him there. Micki’s mouth dropped open. Rand looked down at her and tried to finish explaining. Micki, you must understand that while most girls your age are already married, they are Cambodian. You and I and Kase are American. I, well I felt it was just bit too early, for you, for me, for all of us. Anyway, since your mother died, you’re all I have. Rand stopped and ran his hand through his hair. He took a deep breath. I asked Kase if we could delay your arrival in the states for awhile. He wouldn’t have been with you at the ranch, anyway, since he was, as he apparently told you, in Laos. Rand stopped talking for a moment. Now the political climate is such that we need to speed things up. I don’t want to frighten you, but we think that King Sihanouk was just removed from power, and General Lon Nol and Prince Sirik Matak are running the country, Rand stopped, again, and looked down at the floor.

Speed up what, Father, the wedding? Anyway, I thought KK said General Lon Nol was a good guy who ran out the North Vietnamese. Isn’t that why KK was in Laos, to help run out the North Vietnamese? Micki asked.

Rand looked over at her and said, Hush, Micki! You must not repeat the things that Kase tells you. He has taken you into his confidence far too often, I fear.

Micki rolled her eyes. Once again, her Father was treating her like she was a child. KK had always taken her into his confidence. Besides, didn’t her Father think she overheard him talking, too, especially when he held meetings in the house? Didn’t he know she’d read his papers, after all, he left them laying all over the tables. Micki let out a sigh. Now, she was totally confused, and her Father’s talk wasn’t clarifying anything

Rand started speaking, again. Well, I know you think the world of Kase, and you’ll have absolutely no problem with this, but, Rand broke off. Maybe I better just let him tell you, Rand finished, clearing his throat.

Micki watched her father’s expression, trying to determine if he was angry or just upset. It was clear that he wasn’t enjoying this discussion. Rand worked for the CIA overseeing trade with Cambodia. He had been for all of Micki’s life. He raised her near a little village called Kampong Sing, south of Phnom Penh. As far as Micki understood, her father was a crucial liaison between the American government and the pro-western supporters in the Cambodian government. Rand was in charge of approving all the trade that took place between the villages and American interests.

Being raised in Cambodia, Micki’s upbringing differed from her American counterparts. Young girls in Cambodia were brilliant, but obedient. They were quick-witted, but they were expected to control when and where they directed their thoughts. Respect was everything in Cambodia, and Micki seldom questioned her father or his intentions. However, in a couple of days, she would turn 18, and, by Cambodian standards, she was past her prime. All her friends were long since married, and her life on the small farm outside of the secluded village was nothing short of stagnating.

Micki, her father continued. You know I have a job to do here, and I have devoted my whole life to guaranteeing trade for these people. But the resistance to my presence is growing stronger every day. It’s unprecedented and unpredictable that I could have fallen into this situation, but I did. I’m afraid that I made some mistakes, Rand paused, as he stopped and took a deep breath. I’m afraid our life here is about to change. I am truly fearful for us, for you, and Kase is coming to help.

Micki watched her father’s mouth stop moving. He was hesitating, withholding the rest of the story, as always. And, he was staring at her, still, and that was making her nervous.

The housekeeper, Chalani, opened the door from the kitchen and walked out carrying a large wooden tray full of food. The steam from the delicate rice and sauteed vegetables filled the room, and Micki’s attention was diverted. Lunch, Mr. Rand, Chalani said, setting the tray down on the large meal table where Micki was still seated.

Thank you, Chalani, Rand replied, seemingly welcoming the interruption. Rand turned back towards Micki and waived his hand in the air. We’ll continue this conversation while we eat, Micki, he added. He walked over to his place at the head of the table and sat slowly down onto his cushion.

Micki took her place at the table and waited to be served. She looked back at her father for a moment, still trying to piece together what exactly just happened. She knew that tensions were rising among the local villagers and there was talk of anti-American propaganda from an opposition group up North, but that was an ongoing issue, not something new. Why the sudden urgency? And Kase promised he’d take her back with him when he left Laos, so why was her father making such an issue of it?

As they ate, Rand began speaking, once again: Change is eminent, Micki, and the villagers know they don’t have the manpower or the strength to fight it. He pushed his plate to the side and Chalani put another scoop of rice on it for him. He slid it back and began eating while he talked. Western influence has always been the norm in Phnom Penh, but with King Sihanouk abroad, all the ties I forged with his government are severed. And out here in the villages, the people are driven by power and fear. I’ve been successful because I haven’t had any opposition, but that has changed. I’m no longer the most powerful connection these people have for trade. There’s a bigger, more powerful group, now, and that group feels I’ve cheated them by working with the King. They don’t trust me. I’m not bias, really, but they don’t believe me. And the villagers, well they can’t afford to step up and say a word; it would mean an all-out backlash against the entire village.

Micki heard the nervousness in her father’s voice. He was tense, rambling, and avoiding her eyes. Rand started talking, again, about trade and the village elders. Micki lost track of what he was saying. Her eyes followed him for a few more moments, then she spotted the all too familiar picture hanging on the wall in the entry way. It was an old picture of her father and Kase. She smiled. The photograph was taken over 10 years ago. Her father’s hair was black, then, and cut short. Now, his hair was gray, shoulder length, and usually up in a ponytail. Kase looked different, too. Micki smiled, again, as she thought of Kase. She looked at his old photo with long hair, a big mustache, and a beard. She thought to herself how glad she was that hair styles change. She closed her eyes for a moment and remembered what Kase looked like the last time she saw him. His hair was layered and short, about to his ears, and his mustache and beard were smaller, too. Her eyes circled back around to her father. He wasn’t speaking any more; he was eating another plate of food that Chalani brought out for him.

Micki looked up at Chalani. The stern housekeeper’s all too familiar stare made her shiver. Micki knew Chalani was not pleased with her, but that was nothing new. Chalani had taken care of Micki since Micki’s mother took ill and died, nearly 7 years ago. Chalani was different. She had a quiet, no nonsense personality, and she felt a woman’s place on earth was to serve men. While Chalani was Cambodian, she wasn’t as friendly and outgoing as the other people in the village. And Chalani was never happy with the fact that her charge was the child of an American. Micki looked American, too, with short blond hair and bright blue eyes. Micki’s beauty always embarrassed Chalani when she took her out. Micki sensed that early on, so she never allowed herself to become personally attached to the old woman. To make the tensions between them even worse, Chalani viewed Micki’s betrothal to another American as inappropriate. And she was even less pleased with the influence that Kase had on Micki – sending her American jeans and cowboy boots and sometimes expensive jewelry from countries he visited. Chalani always said that Micki should try to look more like the village girls and be trained to be a good Cambodian wife, wear a sampot, and learn to serve a meal. Micki’s father always answered the same way: That won’t be necessary. To Micki, her betrothal to Kase Karson represented a future - freedom from the repressive life in her father’s secluded house in the Cambodian countryside. To Chalani, Kase Karson symbolized western arrogance and domination.

Chalani, Rand began. This time when Kase visits, things will be a bit different. He’ll be spending more time with Micki than with me – working with her to get her ready for this big transition. You must listen to him, as you listen to me, and assist him in preparing to ship Micki’s belongings. Micki sat up and listened, carefully. And there will be no more teaching Micki how to serve meals. Kase made it quite clear in his last letter that he doesn’t want Micki to think she is subservient to anyone and that he will never expect Micki to serve him. They will be equal partners. So, let’s not get him upset, especially not now when I need his help, Rand added.

Micki looked over at her father. Partners? she asked. Rand looked at her and nodded. Micki caught Chalani’s eye and smiled, wryly. She knew that Chalani was steaming inside. Chalani squinted her eyes in disgust, which made Micki smile all the more.

Rand started up, again, with more directives for Chalani. Micki’s mind drifted back to the strange things her father said. She couldn’t figure out which to worry about more: her father’s warnings about chaos in the village or the fact that Kase was coming, and she looked a mess! She looked at her reflection in the lid on the table. Her hair was a mess, and she had on one of Kase’s old cutoff t-shirts. It was older and a bit tattered. Tonight, she’d cut her