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East Rongbuk Glacier Camp, Mount Everest—21,200 feet

May 13, 1939

11:00 a.m.

When Macfarlane’s view through his binoculars went totally white, he dropped their brass eyepieces from his face to see, firsthand, that the avalanche was now charging toward him. Looking back at the flimsy tents of the camp arranged around him and the wall of the valley rising up behind, he understood that he had nowhere to run even if the altitude would permit it. He ducked behind a boulder in preparation for the avalanche’s arrival and waited for the impact. It never came. The approaching cloud of snow and ice slowed and collapsed in on itself, eventually stalling a few hundred yards away from the campsite, just as the more expert heads that had originally chosen that place many years before had known would happen.

Calm returning, Macfarlane stood up and urgently scanned the face again with his binoculars. When he saw the two dark shapes he had been watching slowly emerge from the upper part of the huge scar that the avalanche had rent across the mountain, he felt an unanticipated surge of joy. He also acknowledged that his relief at their survival made a mockery of his orders, that he was to be doomed by his own sense of fair play. Accepting it without remorse, he immediately ordered three of the Gurkhas and Zazar to the foot of the face to arrest the German and the Sherpa when they made it down and bring them to him. With a mistrustful look at Zazar, he stressed to the Gurkha sergeant that he wanted the two men “alive” before particularly urging the big Tibetan on his way, shouting, “Sherpa Ang Noru, Sherpa Ang Noru,” at him to speed him there. He knew that Zazar was strong enough to carry one of them back alone if need be.

Watching them leave, Macfarlane unscrewed his nearly empty hip flask, took a much-needed sip of scotch, and considered his next steps.

The rescue party got back two hours later, Zazar carrying an almost unconscious Becker over his shoulders, the Gurkhas walking alongside the Sherpa. Laying the German at Macfarlane’s feet, the Tibetan immediately spoke to the Gurkha sergeant who said, “Zazar says he has brought you the German, so the Sherpa, if you are a man of your word, is now his to take back to Kampa Dzong.”

Macfarlane looked at the crumpled, ice-covered German on the ground before him and then at a similarly battered, yet still standing, Ang Noru. Shaking himself free from the hold of the Gurkhas, the Sherpa defiantly stared back at Macfarlane and, with a curse about the English, spat in his face. The British officer made no reaction at all, simply wiping his face with the back of his leather-gloved hand and coldly turning to the sergeant to say, “You can assure Zazar that I am indeed a most honorable man. He must also understand that there will be no killing here, whatever he has really agreed with the dzong pen. He must take this man back to Kampa Dzong alive.”

The Gurkha sergeant and the Tibetan exchanged words before the Gurkha said, “Zazar has already promised the abbot of Rongbuk, who is the true master here, that there will be no killing in the shadow of Chomolungma. Beyond, he says it is soon the dzong pen’s land, and there it is his laws.”

“Undoubtedly, it is,” Macfarlane said as he turned his head back to Ang Noru, who immediately started cursing at him again. Staring back at the Sherpa in return, he said to the sergeant, “Tell Zazar that for now, neither of these two men is in any condition to move anywhere. He can leave with the Sherpa tomorrow when the sun is up. I will permit him all the supplies he needs for his journey so he can prepare his pack tonight. We will have to stay here longer with the German for him to recover properly.” Macfarlane then proceeded to help the four Gurkhas tend to Becker and Ang Noru as best they could, giving them water and hot tea, even feeding them a little before letting them sleep.

By sunrise Zazar was impatient to leave.

Macfarlane deliberately took his time before ordering the Gurkhas to awaken Becker and the Sherpa, bind their hands, and bring them out.

The Gurkhas led the Sherpa straight to the Tibetan, Zazar picking up a snake of rope already hung from his waist and tying Ang Noru to the end of it. The Sherpa, his hands bound, could only curse both the Tibetan and the British officer.

“Please save your energy for the journey ahead, Sherpa,” was all Macfarlane said back.

Ang Noru responded by hurling himself face forward into the snow like an enraged small child. With a shout, Zazar tugged violently at the rope that held him, seemingly prepared to drag the kicking Sherpa on his way if necessary.

Seeing Zazar was ready to go, Macfarlane walked over to Josef, who was sitting on a rock under the watchful eyes of two of the Gurkhas. Nodding to the two soldiers that it was all right, Macfarlane beckoned the German to get up. “Walk with me, Becker.”

With great effort, Josef stood, and together they stepped down from the rocky outcrop of the camp into the deeper snow around the Tibetan and the Sherpa. Slowly and precisely, so that he was sure the German understood him and the Gurkhas heard him, Macfarlane said, “Say goodbye to your companion. That Sherpa brought you a long way. A gentleman would shake such a man’s hand one last time.”

With that said, the British Army officer turned to Josef and took the German’s bound hands, as if checking the ties, before saying something more under his breath and pointing him toward the Sherpa.

When Josef pulled his hands back, he found a small bone-handled pocketknife had been placed in his right palm.

Macfarlane had quickly turned away to shout to the Gurkha sergeant, “Tell Zazar that he must permit the two to say their farewells, and then he can go.”

Josef went to Ang Noru, who was still lying in the snow. He helped him to his knees and then, crouching down in front of him, shook the Sherpa’s tied hands exaggeratedly as they exchanged their final words in German.

They both then got up from the snow while Zazar shouldered his heavy pack, crammed with all the equipment and supplies the British officer had permitted him to take for his journey. Despite the additional burden, the Tibetan was delighted with the haul, still surprised that when the British officer had checked the pack in the dark of the early morning he hadn’t ordered him to leave some of it. Zazar would sell most of it in Shekar on the way back to Kampa Dzong. It would fetch a good price but nothing like the amount the dzong pen was going to give him for the Sherpa.

With a faint smile, Macfarlane watched as the big Tibetan buckled slightly under the weight of his pack before resolutely forcing himself to straighten up and bear the load.

Without any further words, Zazar tugged the rope and started tramping off through the deep snow, pulling the Sherpa along behind him. Josef watched them leave as Macfarlane stepped alongside him, saying quietly, “You should rest some more, Becker, but afterward I will want to talk to you about the direction of your next steps. As far as I can see you have two alternatives. You can either come with me to captivity or go back up. I suspect I already know which you will chose, and that is why I offer it.”