"I saw one stick of bombs through the town, but it was no great disaster."
—Colonel David H.E. Opfer U.S. air attaché in Cambodia
That was the official American account of the damage inflicted after a B-52 Stratofortress last week mistakenly emptied its 20-ton load on Neak Luong, 38 miles southeast of Phnom-Penh. But when reporters later visited Neak Luong, a sleepy town of 5,000, they wondered whether they and Colonel Opfer were talking about the same place. Instead of "minimal" damage, as Opfer had described it, they found horrifying devastation—enough to make it the worst bombing error of the long Indochina war. At least 137 Cambodians were killed and 268 wounded. A mile-long string of more than 30 craters, running down the main street, had completely wiped out one-third of Neak Luong and heavily damaged another third. Thatch and wood shacks occupied by 3,000 soldiers and marines and their families were wiped out. The marketplace was destroyed. Even two-story steel-reinforced concrete buildings were shattered.
Gruesome Debris. The impact from the American bombs, and from the government ammunition dumps ignited by them, strewed a gruesome debris of human limbs and bloody bedding all over the town. For acres, trees were denuded and charred. Days later, survivors still searched the rubble for missing family members. Many turned up in Phnom-Penh's overcrowded hospitals with arms and legs missing, puzzled as to why the U.S. had bombed them. A woman whose family had been wounded kept asking, "Why do the Americans want to continue the war?" A marine whose young son had been killed moaned: "I don't have anything anymore. I am finished."
This bombing error, and two others committed during the week, came less than two weeks before the congressionally imposed Aug. 15 cut-off of all American military activity in Indochina takes effect—giving the impression that the U.S. was desperate to get in as much bombing as possible in the remaining days. In an attempt to prop up the faltering Lon Nol regime, B-52 flights over Cambodia have increased from 40 daily sorties to 49. Supplies such as T-28 propeller-driven fighter planes, ammunition, cargo planes, howitzers and armored personnel carriers are being rushed to Lon Nol's army.
Despite the incessant American aerial barrage, the Khmer insurgents continue to gain ground—battering Lon Nol's forces at will. Deftly applying pressure first on one major highway leading to the capital and then switching to another, the insurgents have kept the government's forces off balance. In fighting creeping ever nearer to Phnom-Penh, the rebels have inflicted 800 to 1,200 casualties weekly upon government troops. The heavy casualties have diluted Lon Nol's units; the four battalions guarding the bridge at Prek Ho now each contain about 120 men, instead of their normal strength of at least 400. Morale is low. Coming under attack last week, the 100-man government force defending Cambodia's only international radio transmitting station near Phnom-Penh threw down their arms and scattered. Inside the capital the insurgents' clandestine radio constantly brags that the day of "liberation" is approaching, fueling rumors that more than 1,000 rebel agents are already within the city.