A Shell Rips Through Their Hut on Cambodia's Frontier: A Tale of Nightmarish Terror and Lifelong Misery

A Shell Rips Through Their Hut in Banteay Meanchey Province One December Morning. Account of a Night of Terror and a Life of Misery.

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A Tragedy on the Borders of Cambodia

Early in the morning of December 22, 2025, Mrs. Lenh Savil and her husband, Suoy Rinh, were seriously injured when Thai artillery shells struck their home in Sophy village, Sophy commune, Ou Chrov district, Banteay Meanchey province. The explosions sent shrapnel through the bed where they were sleeping, inflicting femur fractures and life-altering wounds on both. Mrs. Savil, who lives in extreme poverty, is currently recovering at her daughter's home in Kaun Trey village, Kaub commune, Ou Chrov district, Banteay Meanchey province. She shared the following account of her life and the tragedy that struck her.

Lenh Savil

“My name is Lenh Savil, I am 63 years old”

My name is Lenh Savil; I am 63 years old (Year of the Dragon), and I was born in Sophy village, Sophy commune, Ou Chrov district, Banteay Meanchey province. Currently, I reside in Kaun Trey village, Kaub commune, Ou Chrov district, Banteay Meanchey province. My father, Lenh, was killed during the Khmer Rouge regime, and my mother, Sa Em, later died of illness. I have one younger brother. I have been married twice.

My first marriage took place when I was 18, in Ou Chrov; I had a daughter and a son from that union. The second took place when I was 40, with my husband—Suoy Rinh. As a child, I received only limited education because I was separated from my parents from the age of 7. I was sent to live with my aunt, but we were so poor that I had to do hard physical labor to survive, and I never had the chance to go to school. My only brother was placed with a foster mother.

Childhood Stolen by the Khmer Rouge

In 1975, when I was only 11 years old, the Khmer Rouge took my father away and executed him because he was a teacher. Then, the Khmer Rouge evacuated me from Sophy village and sent me to live in Teuk Thla, Serei Saophoan district. I was placed in a mobile children's unit and forced to do hard labor, like digging soil and pulling up siam weed bushes. We were given strict quotas: cut three bundles of wood per day, and for food, we were given only thin gruel to eat communally.

In 1979, when Vietnamese forces arrived in Cambodia, I returned home to Sophy village and began farming. Later, at 18, my aunt arranged my marriage. After the wedding, I went to live with my husband in Ou Chrov. We stayed married for about four or five years, had two children—a son and a daughter—before eventually divorcing.

A Second Union in Precariousness

Later in life, after 40, I married my second husband, Suoy Rinh. We moved in together in Sophy village, but as we struggled in extreme poverty, we took a job as guards for a cashew plantation owned by a man named Khim. We lived there, on the plantation. For the past three or four years, my life has been even harder due to a hip fracture that left me unable to walk. My husband worked on the plantation to earn a small monthly salary and some rice, which we used to buy food and the medicines I needed. We suffered greatly, as we never had enough money to seek proper care at the hospital.

Suoy Rinh

Under the Bombs: The Impossible Escape

When the second episode of the armed conflict between Cambodia and Thailand began on December 8, 2025, my husband and I could not flee to a safer area because of my condition. Though terrified, we decided to stay on Khim's cashew plantation in Sophy village, even as Thai artillery shells fell closer and closer to where we were.

The Nightmare of December 22, 2025

Tragically, around 4 a.m. on December 22, 2025, while my husband and I were sleeping in our bed on the cashew plantation, we heard a shell explode near our home. We desperately wanted to flee, but since I could not walk, my husband—out of love and compassion—refused to abandon me. He chose to stay by my side, despite the danger. Moments later, after he briefly got up and returned to the bed, three more shells struck in rapid succession. One hit the house stairs directly, sending shrapnel through our bed. I was hit in the arm, and my right thigh was shattered. My husband's left thigh was also severely broken.

Despite his agony, he managed to crawl to the door and call for help. Fortunately, he reached his uncle Mao, who contacted the plantation owner, Khim, to call an ambulance. At 11 a.m. that day, an ambulance arrived to transport us to Ou Chrov district referral hospital. I remember being conscious enough to see the doctors cut my clothes to insert an IV, before we were both transferred to Mongkol Borei hospital. When we arrived at Mongkol Borei, I had lost consciousness.

I only woke up later, in the operating room, as the anesthesia wore off; the surgery was long, lasting more than three hours. I stayed in the hospital for two and a half months before finally returning to my daughter's home in Kon Trey village on February 16, 2026. My husband was treated for a month before being transferred to his sister's home in Sophy village to continue his recovery.

Infection, Helplessness, an Appeal

My condition is still very bad. My leg wound is infected, pus is draining, and the pain is so intense that I cannot sleep at night. We simply do not have the means to return to the hospital for further care.

Having already lived with an old injury, only to be struck by this new devastating wound, I have no hope left for recovery. My husband is also severely disabled by his broken femur, and neither of us has anyone to provide the proper medical care we need. We live in deep misery.

With hands clasped in respect, I appeal to the Royal Government of Cambodia, non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and international agencies: help my husband and me. We have no education, no resources, and no one else to turn to for support.