No sooner had the sun sank and darkness had fallen over the plain than red glows began to show in the hills, dotted here and there.
‘I wonder what they are?’ asked Lacey, speaking more to Bland than me.
‘Dunno! Could be villages,’ answered Bland.
‘They are too close together,’ I butted in. ‘More like a Jap column settled down for the night. After all, they have got nothing to worry about who sees them?’
‘S’pose you are right, Fred,’ Bland replied.
I was leading the pony by the lead rope. Bland was sitting astride the animal. Suddenly there was a piercing howl to our right front. Coming out of the darkness it made me jump, and the pony shot up its head and began to gallop. The rope was out of my hand and I could see Bland crouched over the animal’s neck, holding on for all he was worth. In a few seconds I gathered my wits and gave chase, managing to keep the dark shape in view. As the howl seemed to die, so another began in an even higher pitch. This caused the pony to stop for just long enough for me to get up to it. Its nostrils were blowing two large comets of steam into the cool night air. I grabbed the rough bridle that we had made and began to soothe the animal. Once again another screeching howl was sent up into the night, but this time from a different direction, then another close on the last, and then another. It seemed that we were completely surrounded. In the meantime Bland had dropped from the back of the pony and was standing beside me, while Lacey had come up panting.
‘Fred, they’re all around us,’ he half whispered, hardly able to get his breath.
‘What’re they?’ both men asked at the same time with a worried sound in their voices.
‘Could be jackals,’ I told them. ‘You two, get on each side of the pony. I will keep close to his head and lead him. Bill,’ I addressed Bland, ‘I am afraid you are going to have to walk, but whatever you do, just keep on the move and don’t stop for anything. We cannot afford to fire on them to frighten them off. One shot will echo all across the plain. So just keep swinging your rifles if anything comes near you and don’t be afraid to clobber them with your rifle. We must keep them away from the pony’s legs. They will try to bring him down and have a go at us.’
I was leading the pony on a short rope and swinging my rifle from side to side. As I looked from one side to the other I could see the dog-like shape of the animals as they slinked from one side of the path to the other, obviously waiting for the opportunity to attack.
‘How are you two back there?’ I asked without turning my head away from the front and peering into the darkness.
‘We’re not doing too bad,’ Bland answered, ‘but I don’t think I can run very far.’
I tried to reassure him and Lacey by saying, ‘If they don’t come at us in the first half hour, I doubt if they will come at us at all.’
We had been walking at a steady pace for about two hours. The howling had died down somewhat, but the dark shapes were still slinking about, though not coming too close. I thought that we were slowly getting rid of them when dead in front of me and right in the middle of the track was a large animal, like a wolf. It was sitting on its back legs as if waiting in defiance for us to approach. As I got near, it bared its teeth and snarled. Gripping my rifle by the barrel I swung the butt fiercer. I did not slow down or alter my step but just kept going forward, looking at the animal in front of me. I must have been but a few paces from it when, with a snarl and show of its fangs, it got up onto its legs and slinked off to the left of the track, looking back at us and showing its fangs again. That was the end of them.
Dawn was breaking as we began to climb the hills. The early rays of the sun were coming up into the sky in front of us. Behind us, as we looked back, the plain was covered in a sea of mist. It was cold and damp as we made the climb. The trees were clouded here and there in white grey fog. I called a halt and tied the pony to a tree. Then we turned and looked back. It looked like a great white lake, moving very slowly as the rays of sun caught it and sent it skywards. The pony was munching at the grass that was soaked with the early morning dew. His head shot up and his ears went first forward and then back as if he had heard something higher up the hill.
‘I wonder what he heard?’ asked Lacey. ‘Probably an animal,’ he ventured to add.
‘Not more bloody jackals, I hope,’ said Bland.
‘Come on, let’s move,’ I said, ‘I’m getting cold in this mist.’
‘Yes, and in a couple of hours we’ll be sweating our cobs off,’ Lacey grumbled.
About ten minutes later we had to cross a stream which cut across our path. Here we filled our water bottles and splashed the cold water over our faces and allowed the pony to drink. Further up the hill we came to another path running across ours but parallel to the stream lower down, going in a north to south direction.
‘Hey, Fred, look at this!’ said Bland in a half whisper, pointing at some fresh horse droppings which were still steaming.
‘Quick! Let’s move!’ I said as I glanced and saw boot marks in the wet mud. ‘We could be in the middle of a Jap column.’
We moved fast up the hill, not stopping until we were on the other side.
We spent the night in the thick jungle. We had no way of telling the time except by the sun during the day, so we had to guess when it was time to take over sentry duty between us.
At the crack of dawn we set off again, walking at our usual steady pace. Bland had now recovered from his injury and was walking without any pain. It was about nine in the morning when we came to a thickly covered valley. After about another half hour we came to a fork in the path. We searched around for a sign from Friend to tell us which track to take, but there was none. We generally left a broken twig or a loose branch near the track not to take, but there was nothing.
‘Perhaps they forgot to leave a sign,’ said Bland.
‘Perhaps they have forgotten us altogether,’ I said, cursing. ‘Well, which one do we take?’ I asked, looking at both of them.
‘We’ll leave it to you, Fred,’ they said together.
‘Alright, but don’t blame me if it’s the wrong one,’ I said.
I led the way up the left-hand fork. After a while the vista opened up. On our right was thick wooded jungle, on our left a large stretch of paddy fields. A woman working in the fields near the track looked up and saw us. I stopped and asked her in Urdu, ‘Sinlum-ooder-hai?’ I pointed in the direction of some buildings perched on the hills to our left. She stood up and stared at our bearded faces and ragged clothes. ‘We are English. We want to get to Sinlum,’ I said again in Urdu. Without a word she gathered up her sari-like dress, ran towards me, grabbed the pony’s rope from my hand and waved us to follow. She went off the track into the jungle on the right-hand side, and we followed her close behind.
‘Where’s she taking us?’ Bland asked.
‘Dunno,’ I answered, ‘but I think she’s leading us out of danger.’
The woman picked her way through the trees and shrubs, and after what seemed a couple of miles she stopped at another track. Putting the lead rope back into my hand she turned, pointed to the way we had come from and said, ‘Sinlum-Gagee Japani Hai.’ Then, pointing up the track she had led us to, she said, ‘Sinlum-Gabah, Teek-hai! Jow-Jaldee-jow.’ Before we could thank her she had disappeared into the jungle.
We arrived at Sinlum-Gabah at around noon. There we were given a good meal and our first hot bath in months. We were also given some decent clothes. Bland and I had torn our shorts so badly that we were a disgrace. We were given a pair of the wide black cotton pantaloons that the Kachins and Karennis wear. You had to pull the waist band tight, tie a knot with it and tuck it in. It was the women of the village who showed us how to do this, so that the trousers would not fall down as we walked. We caused some laughter as we paraded around the village trusting that we had got it right but only to find that after a few strides we were standing there with the trousers around our ankles and showing everything.
The villagers told us that the sergeant and his party were about fourteen days in front of us. So we had gained no ground on them at all. As English was spoken well in the village, we had no difficulty in asking whether the sergeant had left any messages, but they shook their heads and said no. I also enquired if he had told them that we would be following, and again the answer was no, he had said nothing of other men. I then asked where the next friendly village was. They told me that if we marched fast we could reach it by nightfall, but that we had a high mountain to climb. They also told us that it was not safe to stay the night but to get on our way as soon as we could, which we did.
The mountain range that they had told us about was called the Karenni-Bum range stretching north to south. Once over it we were within striking distance of the China border.
Bland’s foot had by this time completely healed. We were both pleased how it had got better despite having to keep on the move.
During one of the short rests, he said, ‘Fred, I shall never be able to thank you enough for staying with me.’
‘That’s alright, Bill,’ I replied, ‘I wanted to get away from Johnny Friend anyway.’ I felt a little embarrassed, yet I was grateful for him for saying it.
‘If it ever comes about that you are in the same situation,’ he went on, ‘I shall not hesitate to stay with you.’
‘Thanks, Bill, but I hope it never happens,’ I replied.
We marched at a cracking pace, reaching the range of hills at about five thirty in the evening. This left us about two hours’ full light to climb the mountain and reach the village before dark.
The track went up almost vertical, winding here and there. As we went higher the air became thinner, and we found it more difficult to breathe. The trees had changed from the tall teak and bamboo to the more familiar pine and maple. They were further apart and the path became more slippery.
It was a long hard climb. We had to rest more times than we really wanted, for time was not on our side. We did not want to spend the night on the side of a mountain at about ten thousand feet. The sun had already sunk down and the air was already getting chilly.
Then through the thinly dotted trees we saw our objective perched on a long flat plateau. The light was beginning to fade as we entered the village. A couple of young men and bare-chested girls came towards us together with a couple of barking dogs.
To a girl who was carrying a baby and wore a crucifix which hung between her bare breasts I asked, ‘Burrah admi kidder hai?’ in Urdu, but she surprised me by saying in English, ‘The headman is in that hut. Come and I will take you.’
The headman was old and bearded, his face wrinkled with age. We used the girl as an interpreter, as he could speak neither English nor Urdu. She told us that the old man, who was her father, wanted us to leave the village as soon as it was light, as they were expecting the Japanese to visit later in the morning.
We readily agreed that they would see us on our way at first light. Then the girl said, ‘Go with my father and he will show you where you can sleep.’
‘Aren’t we sleeping here by this lovely warm fire?’ I asked, a little surprised and thinking it strange.
‘Oh, no!’ she replied. ‘We have a place all prepared for you,’ she said smiling, showing a perfect set of white teeth.
We followed the old man out into the darkness to a lone hut which was built high in the trees and standing on stilts. It must have been at least twenty feet from the ground. A bamboo ladder leaned against what seemed to be a kind of platform. The hut itself was perched over the side of the mountain with a vertical drop of some hundred feet. We followed the old man up the rickety ladder. Stepping onto the bamboo platform, he led the way to a door in the side of the hut, entered and lit an oil lamp. To our complete surprise, we found ourselves inside a church. At one end was an altar with candlesticks and all the other trappings, such as a chalice, plate and other things needed for Holy Communion services.
The old man signalled to us that here we would sleep. While we were still looking around to see where we could best do this, he left and closed the door behind him.
We chose a place to lie down and had hardly been asleep when the wind began to get up, screaming through the slats of the floor and making the whole place rock and sway as if trying to tear it from its stilts.
‘Come on,’ I shouted above the noise of the wind, ‘I’m going down to get some shelter among the trees. I think we shall be warmer down there than stuck up here.’ We all moved over to the door. I tried to open it, but it was secured somehow. ‘Come on, one of you have a try,’ I shouted. ‘I’ll try to find some other way out of here.’
I searched around but could find no other opening. I then thought of going through the floor. Lying flat on my belly I peered through the slats but could not see the ladder. I asked one of the others to have a look, to make sure. ‘No Fred, the ladder has been taken away,’ Lacey said.
So, that’s it, I thought, we have been lured here like rats into a trap until the Japs come the next day. We sat huddled together and talked of what we could do. We had made a hole in the floor but we would have to wait for a little light or we could cripple ourselves if we jumped in the dark. As the stilts of the hut were half over the edge of the mountain, we kept on peering below to see whether anyone was on guard or not, but we could see no one.
As the night wore on the wind died down and one by one we dropped off to sleep. It seemed that I had been to sleep for no more than a couple of minutes when in the semi-darkness I was being shaken. I started up and grabbed my rifle, pointing it at the old man. He stood wide-eyed and afraid. His hands open and in front of him, he shook his head from side to side saying, ‘Nay, Nay.’ I woke the other two with a shout. Then the old man waved his hands towards the door. Us going down first, and the old man bringing up the rear, we went down the ladder.
There was a quick meal of rice and green sweet tea waiting for us in the old man’s hut. Our fears of the night had been for nothing. Our pony was brought to us and once more we were on our way.
The path took us down the mountain and into the hot sunlight and with it came a weakness and tiredness that made my whole body ache. I noticed that the other two were in a similar state. I, as usual, was leading the pony. Stopping now and then, through aching eyes which I could barely keep open I could see that both Bland and Lacey were staggering about as if they were drunk.
I stopped and asked if they wanted a rest, and immediately they sank down where they had stopped and I did the same. Half conscious and in a kind of stupor, I knew that we could not stop anywhere too long, so I got up with some difficulty, staggered over to the other two and roused them. I told them through half-closed eyes that we must go on. For how far we went I have no idea. The next time I came to any sort of sense, Bland was shaking me and asking me to get up and move on.
We had no knowledge of where we were or where we were going. Darkness fell and daylight came. My throat was parched and I could not move. I just lay on my back on the ground and looked at the sky. I could hear voices that seemed miles away. Then, turning my head I saw Lacey and Bland lying on the ground as I was. Nearby was the pony munching grass. I did not want to move, for my whole body ached. I just closed my eyes and slept. Once more when I returned from the blackness I was astride the pony, my head resting on the heaving long neck. I was aware that I still had my rifle for I could feel it bumping on my back. This seemed to give me some little satisfaction. Lacey was leading the pony with Bland walking slowly by his side with linked arms. They too had their rifles. Once more I slipped down into that peaceful blackness.
The sound of voices, many voices, brought me back once again to my senses. I opened my eyes to look up into a ring of strange faces. I allowed my eyes to slowly move around so that I could take in what and who were gazing down at me. They were weird-looking people, the like I had never seen before. Their dress was of a strange nature. All this was being taken in by my brain that was only half awake and still wanted to fall back into the inky blackness. I felt my head being lifted and water being passed between my lips. It was so cold and so lovely that I wanted to drink and drink and drink. I was picked up by what seemed a number of strong arms and carried out of the sunlight and into the cool dimness of what I found to be a small bamboo hut when I opened my eyes again. Once again I fell into the blackness of unconsciousness. It was pitch black when I opened my eyes again. I did not attempt to move, for in my mind I did not wish to. I felt that weak, so weak that I went back to sleep again.
It was daylight when I was carried from the hut. Still in a stupor and placed upon the pony’s back, I saw Lacey and Bland staggering out of a hut helped by two men. The two men were carrying our rifles and ammunition between them. One of them took the lead rope of the pony and we moved out of the village. The movement of the animal sent me off into another deep slumber. It seemed too much trouble for me to keep my eyes open longer than I needed.
I was in a dream, I was falling and falling. The swaying had stopped and I was out in space. I was again falling, then bump! I had hit the ground. My eyes were open. I looked around. Lacey was half lying and half sitting against a tree, and Bland was lying face down upon the ground, but they were about ten yards away from me. Of the two men and our rifles and ammo there was no sign.
Too weak to stand, I crawled over to Bland who was the nearest. ‘Bill! Bill!’ I shouted, shaking him, ‘They’ve gone and taken our rifles! Lacey!’ I shouted at the top of my voice, ‘Lacey! Our rifles have gone!’
Lacey raised his head and said, ‘Yes, I know. Those two men took them.’ His head dropped back down onto his chest again.
‘Did you see them go?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he answered, closing his eyes as if to go back to sleep.
I gripped his shirt and pulled myself up into a kneeling position in front of him. Holding him with both hands, I shook him. ‘Why the bloody hell didn’t you stop them?’ I raved at him.
Putting his hands over mine to stop me shaking him, he said in a weak voice, ‘I didn’t see them until they were almost out of sight.’
I fell back onto my hands first, then in sheer weakness flat on my back. I lay there not moving a finger. I was too weak to even move my eyes or head.
It was some time before Bland and Lacey got me to my feet and tried to walk me about, for I was too weak to stand. After wandering around for some time in the thick jungle where we had been left, we all three finished up lying upon the ground where we had fallen.
For how long we lay there, I have no idea, but I became aware of voices. I watched as Bland and Lacey rose to their feet and staggered away in the direction of the sound. Sometime later they returned with some other men. The strangers bent over and looked at me. Then one gathered me up in his arms and carried me like a child.
It was getting dark when I opened my eyes to see that we were entering a village. I was carried into the hut of a man dressed in the uniform of the Indian Army. I heard him tell my two companions that he was a lieutenant and, like us, had been cut off.
I was offered food. Although I had not eaten for almost three days I had no appetite. In the semi-darkness before dawn I was placed upon a bamboo chair-like structure with poles attached for carrying. Four men hoisted the structure with me in it up onto their shoulders. Before setting off, the lieutenant said, ‘I am sending you to someone who will get you well again.’ I thanked him as best I could and sank back into the darkness that had been so common to me in the last few days.
The next time I opened my eyes it was again dark. The chair was lowered to the ground, and strong arms carried me up a flight of stairs. I barely opened my eyes as I felt my clothes being stripped from my body, and then blackness overcame me once more.
I opened my eyes. Everything was white: the walls, the ceiling. Around the walls were pictures of Jesus in different phases of the New Testament and the Stations of the Cross. I then glanced down. I was lying in a bed, covered with thick blankets and white sheets. A movement in the room made me turn my head.
There stood a well-built man with his back to me. He was dressed in what looked like a white cassock with a black cord tied about his thick waist. He turned and faced me as if expecting me to be awake. His head was shaven. His face was pink, round and jovial. The lower half of his happy face was covered by a King George V beard. His smile showed a good row of white teeth. The moustache and beard had a reddish brown tinge to it, giving a kind of holy halo to the whole of his beaming face. As he came towards me, he asked, ‘How do you feel?’ in such a soft voice that I could hardly believe he had asked the question.
‘I feel a little better, thank you,’ I answered weakly.
‘Could you drink a cup of tea?’ he asked in his soft voice, and went on, ‘Would you like to try and eat a little something?’
‘I’ll try,’ I answered, returning his smile. The man turned and left the room.
I began then to try to puzzle out who this man was, where I was and what had happened to Bland and Lacey. No, I thought, I am dreaming, and in a moment I shall drop off into one of those black deep sleeps again and wake up somewhere out in the jungle.
But my dream never faded and the man returned with a steaming cup and saucer in one hand while he held a plate in the other. He put them down and arranged my pillows so that I could sit up. While he did this I slid my hand down to my bare leg and gave myself a good hard pinch, for I could not believe my eyes. On the plate was white bread spread with butter and red jam. The tea also had both milk and sugar in it.
For the next four days I was fed nothing but goat’s milk and raw eggs. After that I was allowed to get up and walk a few yards.
Bland and Lacey recovered after two days. They came and visited me while I was still in bed. They informed me that our saviour and benefactor was a priest named Father McGovern. He lived alone in this Mission with two helpers. One of them was named Samantebo, but we called him Sam. He came from a village about six miles away. The priest was an Irish Catholic and he visited quite a number of villages in the area, converting the villagers to the faith.
Father McGovern told us that John Friend and the others had passed this way, staying one night only. We enquired if any message from Sergeant Friend had been left, but the priest said not. The sergeant had said to the priest that he had been forced to leave two men behind. ‘But why are there three of you?’ the priest asked. I explained the situation as best as I could. Lacey looked a little sheepish as I told him.
On the sixth day of our stay with Father McGovern I began to feel fitter. The strength came back into my legs as I went for short walks around the Mission. In the evening the priest invited us to listen to the news on his wireless, which he told us he rarely used, but for our benefit he would put it on.
We sat around waiting, and then it came. ‘This is Radio Delhi!’ After the preliminaries the newscaster said, ‘All British Troops have now been evacuated from Burma.’
We looked at each other for a few moments, and our heads dropped. The priest broke the silence that had fallen. ‘Cheer up, lads! It’s not the end of everything,’ he said smiling.
Later that evening Sam came in very agitated and told the Father that the Japanese were in a neighbouring village and intending to come to the Mission the following day.
The priest came to us as we sat talking among ourselves. He was almost in tears as he told us that we must go early the next morning. He sat on the edge of the bed with his head between his hands.
‘Father,’ I said, ‘you have done more than enough for all of us.’
‘But boys, you are not well enough to go out into the jungle,’ he sobbed, unable to hold back the tears that streamed down the pink cheeks and mingled with the reddish hair on the lower part of his face. ‘I meant you to stay until I was sure that no harm would come to you,’ he went on, still sobbing. We three stood looking on as his shoulders shook with the sobs.
As I stood there I had a heavy feeling of guilt. Why should we bring so much sorrow to this happy isolated jovial man who had set himself apart from all the things of our outside greedy and selfish warring world?
Suddenly he stood erect. He wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘I’m a fool,’ he said, looking at us, ‘a silly selfish fool!’ Before we could say anything he was ushering us to our beds. ‘Come on, lads, go to bed and get as much rest as you can. I will wake you up in time to get a good start. I’ll draw you a rough map and get food ready for you. Now, to bed!’
Sam came and roused us. It was still dark. A meal was ready. As we ate, the priest explained the rough map that he had drawn. We were, he told us, about sixty miles from the Chinese border. From the border to a place called Man Ying it was about two hundred miles. To cross the frontier we would have to cross a river. Six miles after that we would come to another Mission where there was a Spanish priest and an Italian priest, and there we should get food and shelter. He continued to tell us that after that, about half way to Man Ying, there was a Mandarin’s house where we should be well looked after, but after that we would have to fend for ourselves until we got to Man Ying and the Taiping River.
Before leaving, Father McGovern asked us all to kneel. First he blessed each one of us. This seemed strange to us three, for, let’s face it, there was not a true believer amongst us, but it was the priest’s wish. The prayer he finished off with was the 23rd Psalm, ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.’ Further on it goes, ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me.’
We got to our feet, said our goodbyes and thanked our saintly friend again. Sam led the way down the hill to the track that we were to follow. Here I took the pony’s lead rope and we said our goodbyes to him. He turned and ran back up the hill so as not to be away when the Japanese visitors came.
The track we were following had become very wide, more like a road than a track. It was also very dusty. The trees were much thinner. We all agreed that it appeared to be a well-used road. We had been going at a steady pace for over an hour when from behind came the sound of someone shouting. We stopped and tried to make out from which direction the shouts were coming. Then we heard it. ‘Mister Fred! Mister Fred!’ It was Sam running towards us. We pulled off the track as he came to us. He had come to warn us that the Japanese were coming this way on motorcycles and in a small car.
To reach us the lad had run the best part of twelve miles. There were, he said, seven Japanese. While talking he led us away through the sparse undergrowth. ‘Father,’ he said, gasping for breath, ‘he make them drink much tea and eat plenty cakes. He say, Sam run quickly, tell Mister Fred, go other way, long way but better, and will come same place.’
‘Sam,’ I said, ‘you are a wonderful lad, and as long as I live, I will never forget you.’ The young boy led us through the jungle until we came to another track. Here we said goodbye again.