Immediately the colonel asked who it was. It was a man called Lacey. A search around the village came to nothing. It was then thought that perhaps we had left him where we first heard the rice-pounder. The colonel asked who had finished eating. Jock, Morgan, Ginger Hancock and I went over to him. ‘Look, lads,’ he said in that manner of his, ‘I know he doesn’t deserve it, but I cannot leave a man behind. We haven’t lost anyone yet. Will you please go and look for him?’
Jock and Morgan led the way with Ginger and me following. We went straight to a fork in the track that Jock and I had seen about three hundred yards from the village and had a good look around, beating the sides of the brush with our rifles and calling out Lacey’s name, but there was no sign of him. ‘He could be miles back,’ said Ginger. So we split up, Jock and Morgan going down one fork, Ginger and I the other. Later we all met back at the single track, with no sign of Lacey.
Jock led the way back to the village and reported to the colonel. The rest of the men were saying what they would do to Lacey if ever they caught up with him again, as they all had one thought in their minds: that he had fallen asleep somewhere. ‘You four lads go and get your heads down,’ the colonel said. ‘We will give Lacey until four o’clock to show up, and then we move off.’
At the given time to go, we were all grumbling about the time we had lost through that ‘bastard Lacey,’ and saying again out loud how we would deal with him if he ever crossed our paths again. We had lost six precious hours, hours we could ill afford to lose. All the hard going that we had endured in the last few weeks was almost certainly now wasted because of one man. We still had a chance, but only a very slender one now.
Without even a glance down the track to see if he was coming we set off on what would be the last leg of our long and arduous march. We avoided villages, making slight detours. We crossed rivers by either wading or swimming, after which we took only very short rests and then pushed on again. The colonel was setting a really fast pace now, and we followed him. We were almost running by the time we reached one last river – a river full of leeches, which we had to burn off our feet and legs with cigarettes.
Meanwhile, the noise of gunfire and light automatic machine gun fire to the north of us reached our ears. The colonel was first to his feet. ‘Come on lads,’ he encouraged us, ‘let’s get on.’ As we went on, the noise of the gunfire came closer. We glanced at each other, wondering whether we had already lost the race.
At about one o’clock in the afternoon we reached the village of Shwegu, about three hundred yards from the banks of the Irrawaddy and to our west. As we approached, a large stout man dressed in a white shirt and blue cotton trousers came towards us and said that the Japanese had passed by earlier that morning. All of us cursed and swore. ‘It was that bastard Lacey’s fault,’ we all said.
The colonel decided to move away from the village and go to a large bamboo copse nearer to the river to work out our next move. In the meantime he sent Captain Brown, Sergeant Friend and two other men to make a reconnaissance near to the river to see what they could find out. While they were gone we were alerted to assume firing positions because someone was seen coming towards us. Through the long grass we could make out the cone shapes of Indian sepoy turbans.
When we challenged them they answered that they were British Indian. They were Rajputana riflemen, and said that the man at the village had told them to go to us. ‘Damn!’ the Colonel cursed. ‘I hope he doesn’t tell everyone we are here. Tell them to come quickly and get under cover.’ This we did, and put them immediately on look-out duty.
The reconnaissance party returned and reported that they had seen plenty of Japanese infantry moving up on the other bank and also artillery being moved into position, but on this side of the river all seemed quiet.
After a short conference with his two officers the colonel gathered us all together. ‘In view of the situation,’ he said, ‘I think …’ He paused as he picked his words. ‘… that it would be best if we split up into small parties and went in different directions. But …’ He paused again. ‘… I will put it to the vote. Who is in favour of going on as we are?’ he asked, and looked around at all our faces. Only one arm was raised: that of Sergeant Friend.
Owing to the noise of the gunfire coming across the river, the colonel was forced to raise his voice to ask the sergeant why he wanted to stay as one unit. ‘Well, sir, we have come this far together. I think we ought to carry on this way,’ he answered.
‘Look at it this way, Sergeant,’ the colonel said after thinking for a moment. ‘If we stayed together, we need food and water for over thirty, plus the fact that if we do run into trouble, we are all in it. Anyway, you are completely outvoted and that decision stands!’
‘Right, men, we go in separate parties,’ he rose to his feet and said, ‘sort yourselves out into four parties. Sergeant Friend, you can take one. Sergeant McAteer, you can take another.’ Captain Brown took another, and the Colonel with Captain Lancaster was going in the final party.
Sergeant Friend was given the first choice of whom he wanted and picked Jock Johnson, Ginger Hancock, Bill Bland, Smith, Ballantyne and me. The rest of the men he asked for refused, saying that they would go with any of the other three parties. No one was forced to go when picked. I had no objection because Jock, Ginger, Bland and Smith had all become my close companions. I did think that Morgan would have come with us as he had been with us a lot, but he elected to go with the colonel.
‘Now, who will take the Indians?’ the colonel asked.
‘I will, sir,’ Sergeant Friend shouted. ‘They will come in handy with the language difficulty,’ he added. The colonel glanced in my direction and gave me a sly wink.
The colonel and his party decided to try to cross the river, as did Sergeant McAteer and his party. Captain Brown’s party and our party both decided to take the long route, by going northeast into China, striking back into Burma above Myitkyina and heading west to the Brahmaputra River and into India, a round trip of about three thousand miles – and all on foot.
There were four compasses and three maps. Captain Lancaster handed his compass to Sergeant Friend, saying, ‘Look after it, it’s a good one.’
The colonel gathered us around him for his final talk. ‘Firstly we are here,’ he said, ‘because of one man. We cannot really blame him as we do not know what has actually happened to him.’ He paused and looked at each one of us as if he was looking at us for the last time. Then he continued. ‘If any of you should meet up with him, and well you may, if he has no good explanation to offer …’ – the colonel’s face had now turned sterner than we had ever seen before – ‘… then I say to you, deal with him as you see fit.’
We all knew that the colonel had the same idea why Lacey was not here.
He continued his talk, and said, ‘I don’t want that to happen again, so I am going to ask you all to make an agreement that should any man jeopardise the rest, then he is to be given twenty-four hours grace, and then left behind. Do you all agree?’ We all agreed. ‘One more piece of advice,’ he went on. ‘Do not get mixed up with any rabble, and fight only if you are cornered. Good luck to you all and I hope we meet in India.’ His voice seemed to crack with emotion as he turned away.
Sergeant McAteer was the first to lead his party off. They went back the way we had come with the hope of crossing the river further down. We watched as they made their way through the long grass. They turned and waved and then went out of sight.
After about ten minutes Sergeant Friend led us away. The time was about five thirty in the evening. Jock was behind the sergeant, followed by Smith, Ballantyne, Bland and Ginger. The two Indians and I were in the rear. We headed in a northeasterly direction to make for the distant hills. Like the first party, we turned and waved until we could no longer see the others.
We kept off the tracks as much as possible to avoid any Japanese patrols that might have been skirmishing about. Darkness had fallen, and we were picking our way through the jungle as best as we could.
Our attention was drawn to a red glow in the sky, above the distant trees to our front. We came upon a track that led towards the glow. We estimated that it could be a village burning, about a quarter of a mile away. The sergeant called Jock and me to go forward and have a scout around to see what was happening and to see if we should steer clear of it.
I led the way up the track with Jock following some ten paces behind. As we got nearer we could see a village, but it was not on fire for we could not see any flames coming above the trees. We thought that the villagers could be entertaining guests, possibly Japanese soldiers, at dinner, so we had to move more carefully.
As we got nearer we could see the outline of the huts. We could also hear the crackle of burning wood, which I should think helped us both to get so near without being heard.
Leaving the track, I moved to the side nearest to the village and into the trees. I had quite a good view of what was going on.
A number of large fires were burning down the middle and between two rows of huts. Men were sitting around, waving their arms and talking frantically, while women and younger girls were squatting, tending food pots on the edge of the fires. Others came and went into the huts.
Jock joined me at my vantage point and whispered into my ear, ‘What are you going to do, Fred?’
Gripping him by the shirt sleeve, I crept with him to the other side of the track. There, in comparative safety, I whispered, ‘You go back and tell the others to wait until I give the signal before they come anywhere near. I’ll wait until you come back before I go in.’ Jock nodded his head, turned and left me.
While squatting there in the darkness alone, I thought how I would go about the task that lay before me. It seemed no time at all before Jock was at my side. ‘At the very first sign of any danger, I will fire a shot. Then you belt off back to the others and get away from here,’ I whispered. ‘I’m going around the village and come in from the north side. This might confuse any who are not friendly and distract them from the rest.’
Jock nodded and whispered, ‘I’ll back you up,’ tapping his Thompson submachine gun.
I got around to almost the opposite of where I thought Jock was. Creeping between the trees, I hid behind one of the larger huts. Then, stepping very carefully, I moved to the corner where I could see right down the middle of the village. The thing that I was looking for was men in uniform, and there were none. Everyone was busy eating, drinking and talking.
I waited a few moments just to make sure, and then with my rifle at the ready I walked as boldly as I could down the middle of the village. Everyone stopped talking and eating and stared at me in amazement. For a moment they all seemed too stunned to move. Then some of the women let out a yell and dashed off into the trees behind the huts.
I stopped at the first fire, dropped onto one knee and in Urdu asked the nearest man for food. At the same time I made a sign that I wanted food, just in case I was not understood.
A young man approached me and in broken English told me to take one of the large leaves that lay by the pots of food and to help myself. I loaded a leaf with food and at the same time kept a keen lookout for anything that might look like treachery.
I began questioning them why they were eating so late. The young man told me in a very excited manner how they had seen both Japanese and Chinese troops earlier that day and had left the village in case there had been a battle between them and had only just returned for their second meal of the day. This, then, was why they were now just eating.
I was beginning to feel a little safer when all of a sudden all eyes were staring at something behind me. My blood ran cold. I dropped my food, grabbed my rifle and, at the same time, spun around into the kneeling position. I heaved a sigh of relief, but cursed in the next. I was really angry. It was the sergeant marching the rest of the men into the village.
He marched straight up to me and said as I rose to my feet, ‘What the bloody hell are you playing at?’ Before I could answer, he raved on, ‘Stuffing your guts and keeping us waiting out there, wasting time.’
My blood began to boil but, keeping as cool as I could, I said in a somewhat subdued voice, ‘Sergeant, if you think that by making sure I have been wasting time, then I am guilty.’ With that I walked away. I sat at the entrance to one of the huts. Jock, Ginger and Bland came over and sat by me. All had a large leaf of food. Each one in turn voiced their opinion that I had done the right thing in making sure it was safe and that the sergeant was in error. Jock said that he was sorry, and that he had told the sergeant to wait for the ‘all clear’ signal.
Using the Indians as interpreters, the sergeant persuaded the headman of the village to provide a guide through the jungle that would bring us close to the range of mountains that we had to cross. The guide stayed with us the whole night. We had short rests, and at dawn reached a high ridge overlooking a large grassy plain. Here the guide left us, telling us that if we followed the single track that ran across it, it would bring us to the foot of the mountains that were visible in the distance. ‘Follow the path upward, and it will bring you to a friendly village that would give you food and shelter. You should reach it by the afternoon of the next day,’ he informed us.
As we began our march downward the sergeant sent the two Indians forward as scouts, to give us some warning of any danger. After about half an hour Jock drew my attention to the way in which the two Indians were supposedly keeping a lookout. They were actually walking with an arm over each other’s shoulders. Jock said, ‘You would think that they were going to the local cinema in Calcutta, instead of being in enemy territory, wouldn’t you?’
I agreed with him and said that we could easily run into trouble without any warning. ‘Why don’t you tell Friend?’ I said. ‘After all, you are second in command!’
‘What! After what happened last night?’ Jock burst out. ‘Not me!’ he said shaking his head. After a slight pause, he added, ‘You try your luck with him. Perhaps he’ll listen to you.’
‘Alright,’ I said, ‘I will ask him.’ I lengthened my stride and came level with the sergeant. ‘Sarge,’ I said, trying to be polite, ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but don’t you think those two Indians should open up a little and keep their eyes open a bit more than they are?’
The sergeant half turned to me and in a ‘couldn’t care less’ attitude said, ‘They are alright. I only sent them up front because they can’t speak our lingo. Anyway, it’s none of your business!’
I stopped dead in my tracks and allowed everyone to pass me until Jock came level with me. ‘Well, what did he say?’ Jock asked.
‘Oh, he told me to mind my own business,’ I answered, looking straight ahead.
‘Well, he can’t say that he wasn’t warned,’ the little Scot retorted.
We both fell silent. I kept a sharp ear for anything and I am sure that my companion walking by my side did so, too.
We reached the plain at about three in the afternoon. Three hours later we were at the foot of the range of hills. The march across the parched and dry plain had made us use up most of our water. The sun had, it seemed, sent even hotter rays just to make the march harder. It was with some relief that we gained some shelter from the scorching orb as it began to sink down in the west.
The setting sun was now causing a semi-darkness to fall about us. The trees were getting denser as we climbed. After a while the sergeant called a halt. We had been marching for two hours since leaving the plain. While resting, the sergeant called us together and said, ‘To make the journey to the village shorter we will go across country, not follow the track. I have decided to march by the compass.’
There was a murmur from everyone except the two Indians. Ginger could not hold back from saying loudly, ‘What, in the dark!?’
The sergeant did not answer but got to his feet and led the way, leaving the track and going through the trees. It seemed that the further we went, the thicker the undergrowth seemed to get. At times we were having to crawl on hands and knees to get through the dense jungle in the darkness that had now completely engulfed us. We reckoned we had been on the go for at least two hours and had made very little progress. Some of the men were grumbling because they had stumbled into trees and given themselves knocks.
Tired, thirsty and hungry, the first light of dawn began to filter through the trees. We found that we were in a small clearing surrounded by thick impenetrable jungle. We all searched around for somewhere we could get through. There was a shout from someone that they could see a dried-up riverbed through the thick foliage. By getting down on our stomachs we crawled beneath the thick and wild shrub and managed to drop into the trench-like riverbed. Keeping down we managed to scramble along in that manner for some distance. The sergeant thought that this would eventually lead us to a village.
All of us were by this time grumbling aloud. After a while the sergeant changed direction, left the trench and headed back into the thick jungle again. One of the men lost his temper and shouted, ‘Where the bleeding hell are you taking us now?’
The sergeant stopped, waiting for us all to get up to him. Then with an agitated look upon his face, as though he was at his wits’ end at what to do next, he stammered, ‘I think that we shall be alright if we follow those elephant droppings.’ He pointed to two or three mounds of dried manure. Turning, he led the way once more. The men glanced from one to the other and shook their heads in disgust.
I held Jock by the arm, bent down and plunged my fist into one of the mounds, gripping a handful. I showed it to Jock. It crumbled to dust in my fingers. ‘This,’ I said, ‘could be weeks old, and doesn’t he know that there are wild elephants in this country?’
Jock shook his head and said, ‘Come on, Fred, let’s go.’ Darkness was once more upon us. Had we stayed on the track as the guide had told us, we would have been at the village in the afternoon. There was still no sight or sound of any human habitation. Some of us were sure that we had gone in a full circle. Our water bottles were by this time empty. Throats were beginning to dry, talking became less, but mumbling got more and louder. Hunger was running a close second to thirst, for it had been two days since we had eaten.
A halt was called and we all just dropped in a circle. ‘I think we are lost,’ Ginger said, leaning his back against a tree.
‘What do you say, Jock?’ asked Ginger.
Jock would not commit himself. ‘I don’t think we are lost,’ he said, ‘maybe a little off course, that’s all.’
‘Boy!’ Ginger blurted, ‘I couldn’t half go a plate of tripe and onions just now.’
‘Just give me a paper-full of fish and chips,’ said Bland.
‘And a nice cold pint,’ cut in Ginger.
‘I’d be quite happy with a couple of slices of bread and dripping and a mug of tea,’ said Smith in a low sad voice.
Our eyes had become accustomed to the dark. Sergeant Friend, who had all this time been sitting alone and silent, got to his feet and laid the compass down on the ground in the middle of the clearing. ‘Look at this!’ he shouted. ‘That is the North Star up there, isn’t it?’ he asked, pointing to the night sky and in the direction of the Pole Star.
‘Yes!’ a couple of the men answered. ‘Why? What’s up?’ they asked, going to him.
‘Well,’ the sergeant began as we all gathered around him, ‘if that’s the North Star,’ he indicated with his finger, pointing to the Pole Star, ‘then this compass is wrong!’ He almost shouted. He stood up holding the instrument in his hand for all of us to look.
‘Can I have a closer look, Sergeant?’ I asked, holding out my hand.
‘And I suppose you will say that it’s me that’s wrong!’ he snapped as he put the compass into my palm.
‘Not until I’m sure, I won’t, Sergeant!’ I snapped back.
First I faced the North Star, put the luminous ‘N’ in line with it, pushed up the small aperture and put it to my eyes. I waited until the needle had stopped swinging. At the same time I remembered that in this country the magnetic variation was 12½ degrees west of true North, thus the pointer would be swinging that much further over. We had, therefore, been going in a more westerly direction than we should have been. There was nothing wrong with the compass. Sergeant Friend had just forgotten to make the twelve-and-a-half-degree allowance.
Without a word I handed the instrument back. The sergeant looked at me with an inquiring glare and asked, ‘Well, what’s your opinion then?’
‘How long have we been marching on the compass?’ I asked.
‘Oh, not very long,’ he stammered, unsure of himself.
‘Have you had the pointer at ‘N’ all the time?’ I asked him.
‘Of course I have!’ he shouted. He was obviously losing his temper with the questions. I did not wish to show him up in front of the rest of the men who were listening to all that was being said. I was in a roundabout way attempting to show him that he was wrong and not the compass, but after the outburst, I turned and walked away.
He came after me and gripped me by the shoulder. He turned me around to face him. ‘It is wrong, isn’t it?’ He almost demanded me to say that it was. His temper had really got the better of him by this time. I faced him squarely. He was slightly smaller than me. I was about five foot ten, he was about five seven or eight. I looked at his now twitching face in the gloom. His eyes were glaring at me. The rest of the party had gathered around us, waiting for me to reply.
We two stood in a rough circle of men. My temper, too, was beginning to boil. For a moment we stood face to face in dead silence. Even the general noises of the jungle seemed to be quiet, waiting for me to speak. I could no longer hold back what I had tried to avoid saying before. ‘No, Sergeant!’ I said through gritted teeth, then pointed at him. ‘You are wrong, not the compass!’
‘How can I be wrong? The needle isn’t pointing north when I face north,’ he raved, waving his arms.
‘That is just it!’ I said, trying to compose myself. ‘I am sorry that it is me who has to tell you, but I think that you have forgotten something of great importance.’
‘Oh, and what the bloody hell is that, know-all?’ he sneered.
‘You have forgotten, Sergeant,’ I sneered back, ‘to allow for the magnetic variation, which in this country is twelve-and-a-half degrees west!’
‘No bleeding wonder we haven’t reached that village,’ grumbled Ginger.
‘You know it all, don’t you, Goode!’ the sergeant snapped.
‘No Sergeant, I don’t!’ I snapped back, ‘I only remember what I have been taught. It does help sometimes.’
‘Alright, what do you suggest?’ His tone had cooled a little.
‘I suggest we stay put until it gets light,’ I replied, ‘then strike due east until we come to a track and follow it. Try to go as much east as we can for about four or five hours.’
Everyone, including the sergeant, agreed that this was the best plan to adopt for the present.
It was in the middle of the morning after battling our way through the thick jungle that we came upon a track that led us upward into the hills. We were not sure if it was the track which we had left two nights ago, but at least we could get along with some ease. Slowly the track began to widen and we were then sure that we were coming near to a village.
The sergeant called a halt. He called me and asked me to go forward and scout to see what we were heading for. Jock came with me, but the sergeant called him back and said, ‘There is no need for two of you to go. He’ll be alright.’ I turned to Jock, smiled and gave a wink. It was too obvious that the sergeant meant to get his own back on me somehow.
I soon brushed the thought from my mind as I made my way carefully through the trees, keeping my ears and eyes open. I had gone about fifty yards uphill when through the trees I could make out a number of small bamboo huts perched on the top of the hill. I got close enough to observe that there was no one moving about. The place looked deserted. I waited for some time, keeping the huts in sight and watching to see whether anyone came or went from them. After a while I decided to return, which I did not like, for one ought to keep the object in view at all times. Anything could happen as soon as I had left, but then, I thought, I was not in charge.
I returned to the party and reported what I had seen. I suggested that I return with the two Indians and give the village a good look-over. To this, the sergeant readily agreed.
We approached the village very cautiously. I led the way. At the entrance I signalled the two Indians to go one on each side of the path. We waited for a short time and then I waved them to go in.
There were only about six small huts. I stood in the centre of them while the Indians searched each one. In the third hut they shouted, and dragged out a dirty ragged young man they had found sitting in the corner. While one Indian questioned him, I sent the other back for the rest of the party to join us.
The young Kachin was the only one left in the village. Everyone else had gone into the jungle and hidden. He seemed to be the village simpleton. However, we managed to make him understand that our greatest need was food which he began to prepare for us all.
In no time he had a huge cauldron of rice going on one fire, while on another he had a pig cut up and boiling in a large black pot. When we had made some tea and were all sitting around for the meal to be cooked, the young Kachin alerted us that someone else was coming up the track. We all made a hasty withdrawal to the edge of the village and got down in firing positions. The word went around not to open fire until all of them were inside.
Jock and I had dropped down behind a fallen tree on the fringe of the jungle and the edge of the village. I had a clear view of the track up which ‘they’, whoever it was, would come. I am sure that Jock had the same view.
‘I hope no one lets go before they are right inside,’ I whispered to him.
‘Aye, me too,’ he replied.
The noise of marching feet grew louder. My rifle was trained right in the middle of where the track disappeared over the rise. I closed my left eye and squeezed the first pressure of the trigger.