We went with great caution up the hill, not stopping for any breaks, and when we got in sight of the village where we had spent the night we cut away from the track and skirted around, trying not to make any noise. We then slept the hours of darkness hidden in the jungle and away from the track, just in case anyone had heard us.
We then had to get past the bridge where we had been robbed, and began to climb the hill to the bridge just as dawn was breaking, going very slowly and keeping a sharp lookout. I waved Lacey into the cover of the trees while I went on ahead from tree to tree until I could see the bridge. I looked all around to see if there was any other way that we could cross, but the jungle was thick and impassable. No wonder the robbers picked this spot, I thought.
I crouched behind a tree and listened intently, but all was as quiet as the grave, so I waved to Lacey to join me and whispered to him that the best thing to do was to go across one behind the other as fast as we could and get into the thick brush on the other side. He nodded his agreement.
We more or less dashed from our cover and once on the bridge our boots made a noise like a big bass drum as we trod on the rough planks. I glanced down at the spot where I had stabbed the robber, and there was a distinct brown stain with some smaller stains going away from it. I then made for the trees as soon as I could, with Lacey fast on my heels. Going in and out between the trees we scrambled up the steep incline, not daring to look back.
We then went as fast as we could to get out of sight of the bridge, only too eager to put as much distance between us and that never-to-be-forgotten place.
We had eaten all the food the French priest had given us, and on the second night out in the jungle, high up in the mountains, we huddled together beneath a large tree, covering ourselves with the many leaves strewn around to keep out the damp cold night air.
With the coming of the dawn we were on our way again. The air, although clearer and cleaner, was getting thinner, and we found that we were having more difficulty in breathing. We also found that the air was chillier, and at times we were shivering, but this helped to make us keep on the move.
Towards noon we had a respite, for the path began to wend its way down the side of the mountain and across a wide valley. But after a while we began to climb again up the side of another mountain.
I had stopped to look to see where the path was leading us when I saw a movement high in the trees to my right. I was ahead of Lacey by about fifty yards or more, and stood perfectly still, looked away, and let my eyes slowly turn back to where I had seen the movement. I turned and began as if to exercise my arms, while waiting for my friend to catch up to where I stood. Now and again I casually turned to where I had seen the movement. I distinctly saw it again, so I dropped flat to the embankment on the high side of the road, which was on the right and the same side as the watcher. Now I could see him, but he could not see me. Lacey came up and dropped beside me.
‘Don’t look now,’ I said casually, ‘but we are being observed.’
‘What? Where? Who?’ he asked in a panic.
‘Lie flat on your face,’ I told him, ‘and I will tell you where to look. At the same time, see if you can see any others. But whatever you do, keep yourself well behind the bank.’
As Lacey rolled over onto his face I kept my eyes on the man. It was obvious that he had lost sight of us for a moment, for he changed his position and came lower down the slope, moving between the trees. All this time I was giving Lacey details of where to look. I could now see plainly that the man carried a rifle of sorts.
Lacey whispered, ‘I’ve got him, Fred. He’s got a rifle. What do you think?’
‘Yes, I had noticed,’ I answered quietly.
‘What do you intend to do, Fred?’ Lacey asked, getting a little excited.
‘I don’t intend to do anything at the moment,’ I replied. ‘I’m going to let him make the first move. You haven’t seen any others, have you?’
‘No, and if there had been, they would have shown themselves by now, don’t you think?’ answered Lacey.
‘He must be on his own,’ I whispered, ‘and he must have been watching us for quite some time. We will lie here, taking turns to watch for about half an hour. If he doesn’t come to us, we’ll go to him.’
‘You’re taking a chance, aren’t you, Fred?’ said Lacey, looking at me.
‘Well, someone has to make a move sometime,’ I replied. ‘We cannot sit here forever, can we? I’ll bet your stomach is beginning to rumble, isn’t it? I know mine is.’
I rolled over onto my back, to give Lacey first watch, and had a catnap, but it did not seem very long since I had closed my eyes when Lacey gave me a nudge. ‘Fred, look! He’s coming down.’ Picking his way between the trees and peering, the man came down the side of the mountain. He had begun shouting, and coming nearer he began waving his arms. Both Lacey and I looked around us to make sure that he was calling to us and to no one else. We could not see anyone, so we both stood up. Again he called, and waved for us to go to him.
‘Perhaps he was waiting for us, and when we stopped he got impatient,’ I said.
‘Could be!’ Lacey agreed.
As we neared the man he waved us to follow, which we did.
He wore the customary blue wide-bottom trousers and black cotton tunic, and was barefooted. A black woollen hat was pulled down on his head, while across his chest hung a bandolier with ammunition stuck in it, but it looked to me that the ammunition was too large for the rifle, an old-fashioned breech-loader with a long barrel partly covered with a wooden stock.
We followed him until we came to a small and what seemed like a little-used track. This led us into some very thick woodland and scrub. Every now and then, he turned to see that we were still following. As if by the stroke of a magic wand we came out of the dullness of the trees and into a wide open space surrounded on three sides by tall cliffs that seemed to reach to the sky. The cliffs were even more surprising by their whiteness, as if they had been carved out into a huge sculpture. Here and there dashes of green grew between the ragged clefts. At the base of one of the cliffs was a large door, which was opened by an unseen person as we approached. We passed into a large hallway hewn out of the rock. Off the hall there were a number of passages. Oil lamps hung around the walls, and daylight shone through a number of slits in the walls on the same side as the door. Around the walls hung swords and shields from a bygone age. At the far end of the hall was a long wooden table, and squatted around this were men dressed in the same kind of clothes and each armed with a rifle of some sort.
Our ‘guide’ led us down towards the long table. As we passed the squatting men they made some comments and laughed out loud, which caused me some consternation. I whispered to Lacey, ‘What do you make of all this, Len?’
‘I don’t know,’ he answered shakily, ‘but it looks as though we are in some kind of bandits’ den.’
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘it does seem that way, doesn’t it?’
We stood before the table. Now and then I turned and looked around me. Our ‘guide’ had disappeared into one of the side passages. The squatting men were now staring at us hard, as though they resented us being there. I thought that at any moment they would get up and do something drastic.
Then from one of the passages came a well-built man. He wore a white turban on his head and had a dyed-red beard, his eyes were black and half closed into slits, and he was clothed in a white robe which made his enormous body seem even larger. He issued an order and our ‘guide,’ who had reappeared, dashed away and returned with rough wooden seats.
‘Sit down!’ he ordered us in broken English. Lacey and I sat facing the large man. I looked and looked again at those familiar dark piercing eyes. Then I noticed the fat podgy hands as he clasped them in front of him on the table, and was certain.
As if having difficulty in finding words to speak, he asked, ‘You, from where come you to?’
His voice was low and gruff. I had recognised him, but did not show it. I dared not, for here we were both at the mercy of the saubur, and he could do what he liked with us. So, I did not smile at his attempt to disguise his voice and his good English. I leaned forward and quietly said, ‘Man Ying.’ I said nothing else, but kept looking at him.
‘To where now go?’ he asked.
‘Tengchong,’ I answered. Lacey had not said a word, but just fidgeted on the seat next to me.
‘Tengchong!?’ he said, as if surprised. ‘Many, many lee (Chinese miles).’ He shook his head.
‘Yes, it is many, many miles for us to walk,’ I agreed with him.
‘And after Tengchong, where you go?’ he asked, still trying not very successfully to disguise his voice.
‘We go to India,’ I answered.
‘India!’ he shouted. He roared with laughter. ‘India!’ he repeated. He tapped his turbaned head. ‘You English are sick in the head!’ Then, breaking into Mandarin, he said, ‘I will give you some food.’
I thought that it was my turn to do some acting, for we had not said a word about understanding Chinese. I glanced at Lacey, then back at the saubur, and said in English, ‘I’m very sorry, but we do not understand.’ I watched his face closely.
‘Oh, so you cannot speak Chinese,’ he said with a grin. I knew then that I had guessed right, and that he knew it as well. He said that he would give us shelter for the night.
After a very good meal, the saubur asked us when we were going to continue our journey. ‘Now,’ I answered.
‘But I have already told you that you can stay the night,’ he pointed out, his English improving rapidly.
Lacey looked at me disapprovingly, but I shook my head and told the big man, ‘You have been very kind to us, but we have a very long and hard journey before us. We must make use of every hour of daylight that we can.’
I was a little surprised that he offered no resistance, but furnished us with a guide who he said would show us back on to the trail that would take us to Tengchong. ‘It is an eleven-day march,’ he informed us. Then, dropping the attempt at disguise altogether, he said in earnest, ‘Do not come this way again or you will be shot on sight.’
The guide led us by different routes and paths to the other side of the mountain and bade us farewell as we made our way down towards the valley below.
The saubur had given us some food to take with us, and we made this last us for three whole days. We did not see a human being in the whole of that time. Food was very scarce in the mountains, and we had to resort to the long-bladed grass that we had been shown at the Bush Warfare School to be edible. The only difficulty with this was that it tended to cut the tongue and the inside of the mouth. Down in the valleys we lived off the wild fruit growing there. The large pear-like fruit of the papaya was particularly filling.
We must have been well over half way to Tengchong when, at the top of a rise, the sky became overcast and thick low cloud appeared. I shouted to Lacey, who was some distance behind me, to get a move on, as we needed to find shelter from the coming storm. I set a quicker pace, striding down the steep incline, but then it was as if the whole heavens had opened up and we were engulfed in torrential rain. In a matter of seconds I was soaked to the skin.
The path crossed a small stream. On the opposite bank, about three feet above the stream was a sandy ledge, and on this was a cave about four feet high, wide at the base but going to almost nothing at the top. Quickly I jumped the stream, pulled myself onto the ledge and peered inside. The cave went back into the bank for about five or six feet, and inside was dry. This, I thought, would do us for shelter for the night. On the floor were some dry leaves and grass, which I gathered to start a fire. I had peeled off my wet clothes by the time Lacey arrived. I went back out into the lashing rain naked, hunting for the driest pieces of wood that would get the fire going. After getting enough firewood I began collecting some large boulders to close up the entrance, as we were going to be there for the night.
Except for the pangs of hunger, I was quite enjoying myself, splashing about in the cold water of the river. Lacey had come out and seated himself near a small waterfall. I had stopped collecting boulders and was now attempting to ‘tickle a fish.’ I lay flat on my stomach. A fish came, and I ‘tickled’ its belly, but when I went to grab it it slipped through my fingers and swam away. So I picked up a large boulder, raised it above my head and, swearing at the fish, threw it down in the water, and then turned away, angry and very hungry.
‘Look, Fred!’ shouted Lacey. ‘You’ve stunned one.’
I turned back quickly. There, flapping about on the surface of the water was a fish about a foot long and three inches wide. I dived into the water, grabbed it, made my way back to the bank with my prize, and began tearing it to pieces with my teeth. The scales and bones dug into my lips and gums, causing them to bleed, but I was so ravenous that I took no notice. Lacey broke the silence by saying, ‘Give me a bit?’ to which I replied, ‘Get your own ****ing fish!’
The rain was still falling as darkness came upon us. We built up the entrance with boulders from the inside and left a small gap at the top for the smoke to get out. Our cotton trousers had dried, but my shirt and jacket were still very wet. We had made a drying ‘horse’ from branches and over these we draped our wet clothes. The fire was burning well. Some of the wood we had gathered was a little damp, which caused the fire to smoke quite a bit, but as it dried out and the flames caught it lit up the small cave. We lay one on each side of the fire, I with my head near to the entrance and Lacey the other way around. There was very little room to move, but we were dry and warm.
We talked about past events, though Lacey naturally kept off the subject of why we were there in the first place. We wondered even more about what had happened to Bland and how far Captain Brown’s party was in front of us. We also wondered how the colonel and the others had fared, and if they had managed to get over the Irrawaddy to safety.
When I leaned forward to place a fresh piece of brushwood on the fire I heard a low throaty growl above my head. I sat up and half turned to look up to the gap at the top of the boulders. The topmost stone began to wobble, and for a moment I was transfixed as I watched it being pushed by some unseen animal then overbalance and fall inside near the fire. From outside came ear-piercing howls as if other animals were shouting encouragement to the one who had dared to push the stone from its place, then a large wolf-like head and forepaws appeared at the now enlarged hole for a brief moment as if to take stock of the occupants of the cave.
I gripped a burning stick and, getting into a kneeling position on the side of the entrance, waited. Once again the rocks shook as the animal put its weight on them. And once again the wolf-like head appeared at the gap, emitting a low growl and showing long fangs and two rows of white teeth.
Quickly I raised the burning stick and thrust it at the animal’s open jaws. The night was rent with a terrific snarling, squealing and yelping as the animal moved rapidly away. I could hear it snorting and snivelling as it made its hasty retreat.
I replaced the stone and sat for some time in silence, until eventually we both fell asleep.
The coldness around me caused me to awake with somewhat of a start. The grey light of dawn had crept into the cave. Lacey was turning restlessly, and I could hear the rush of water outside. The floor of our cave was wet and in some places nearly an inch deep in water. I pushed out the top boulders and looked out. What had been a slow gurgling stream was now a rushing torrent, bubbling now and then over and across the ledge where the entrance to our cave was.
The rain had stopped, so we gathered our clothes and picked our way along the ledge to drier ground. We got dressed and hoped that the sun would soon be up to dry our clothes as we walked.
Our path took us up into the pine forests. We reckoned that at this point we were about 150 miles from Tengchong, and hunger was biting into our insides. Lacey was complaining of pains in his belly as if he were the only one who was hungry, and this caused us to fall out, so I pushed on ahead. It was only when I rested and he caught up again that I knew he was still with me. The raw fish which I had eaten by the river was all I had had for three days, but Lacey had eaten nothing. I felt a little ashamed that I had not shared the fish with him, but then in the next minute I was saying to myself, ‘Well, it’s his fault that we are having to go this way,’ and I would forget my shame.
We must have been very high up, for the air, though cool, was difficult to breathe. I found that I needed more rests. My legs were beginning to get stiff, especially after sitting for a while. It was during one of these rests that I took the opportunity to look back and down into the lush green valley far below us. A river ran between the high mountains like a silver strip of ribbon glinting as the sun moved across it. Beyond, spread out, were the green carpet-like plains, all of different colours. Oh, I thought, if only I had the time to really enjoy the beauty and serenity of this landscape!
The thought that kept me going was that on the other side of the mountain there had to be a village or even a rest house where for one night at least we could be under some kind of shelter.
Many times we both fell to our knees, too weak to walk any further, and then we would crawl on all fours. It was always in the back of my mind that we must keep going.
At the summit of the mountain we stood together and surveyed what lay before us. There was no sign of habitation. Our eyes searched the trees, looking for any tell-tale spiral of smoke that would tell us there was someone, somewhere, but we saw none. The narrow valley that lay before us was covered with trees so thick that one could barely distinguish individual trees. Beyond were more mountains, not as high as we had come over, but still high enough.
The sun was sinking over to our left as we made our way down the steep mountainside. Strangely, some of the weakness had left me, and so it seemed also with my companion. We were being helped along by the descending gradient. I stopped and caught hold of my friend’s arm. ‘Look, Len, smoke, isn’t it?’ I asked excitedly, but unsure my eyes were not playing games. A thin wisp of smoke seemed to hang in the air just above the trees some distance below, and then get blown away by the wind. Lacey agreed with me. We were almost running when we turned a bend in the path and came upon a small bamboo hut. We stood for a moment, and then with caution, I went one way and Lacey the other, so that we came to the open door from either side.
We both stood in the doorway of the hut. The smell of something cooking almost sent me mad. Sitting on the floor, facing the door, was an old man with long flowing beard and hair. His eyes almost popped out when he saw us, but he rose to his feet. He just stood and stared at us. He was dressed in a flimsy white shirt which had seen better days, and dark loose cotton trousers. His feet were bare. In his right hand he held a long-bladed pointed knife. His clothing had me guessing as to what language to use. I began with Chinese, but this drew a blank look. I then tried Urdu, but this too drew a blank stare. What next, I thought? I sat down near the fire and waved him to do the same. After all, I thought, if you are going to fight a man, you don’t ask him to sit down with you. Lacey sat too. Then, taking the man’s left hand in mine (he still held the knife in his right hand), I shook it to show friendship. At this he immediately smiled, showing a row of yellow teeth. He must have understood that we meant him no harm, for he picked up the bamboo pot, placed it on the fire and began stirring it with his knife.
The contents of the pot had begun to boil, giving off such a wonderful smell that my stomach began to make incredible sounds. The old man looked at both Lacey and me, got to his feet and went outside. Lacey looked at me, then at the pot, then back at me. We both sat there with our mouths watering. The man returned with three large leaves. He spread these out and spread the contents of the pot on each of them in equal shares. By this time it had got quite dark, and we scooped whatever it was from the leaves with our fingers. There was some meat and a number of leafy vegetables – of what kind, I had no idea. The meat tasted very much like rabbit, but it seemed much smaller. Whatever it was, it eased the hunger pains and we were very grateful. We sucked at the small bones until they were almost dry.
After the meal the man left the hut, returning sometime later with an armful of wood for the fire. Both Lacey and I left him making up the fire, got down in a corner of the hut and went to sleep.
When I roused myself Lacey was already awake and sitting by the glowing fire. It was already daylight, but the air was quite cold. I went and sat by the fire.
‘Where’s the old man?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I woke up while he was making up the fire, then he went outside.’
I had to go outside to relieve myself. Between us and the next mountain was a sea of grey mist. It swirled around like a gigantic wave as it caught the wind. I turned to the side of the hut and at my feet saw the remains of a skin of some animal. The tail was long and thin. I picked the skin up by the tail. It was a greyish black and short-haired. The head was missing, but from the shape of the body I would make a guess at it being some kind of rat. I realised that was probably what had been in the pot the night before. When I went back inside, I did not say anything to my friend. I saw no point in telling him. What did it matter now, anyway? We had eaten it seven hours ago, and if the chance came again, I would eat it again.
Our host returned, and to our surprise he had around his neck a snake, a large python. It must have been eight feet in length and about three inches in diameter at the thickest part, though the head was missing. He laid it on the floor of the hut and at about the thickest part cut into the belly and began fetching out all the undigested food still in the gut. We saw fur from some kind of animal, and there were masticated bones and also feathers.
The old man then began to cut the snake up into cutlets about two to three inches thick, and stuck bamboo skewers through the meat. He then held them over the fire. We watched what he did and did the same. The fine skin shrivelled and burnt, peeling back to expose the fat underneath. We kept the cutlets turning so that the fat ran on to the hot side and cooked them more quickly.
Whether it was because of hunger or not, the snake meat tasted like something one only dreams of. It was delicious. The nearest thing I could think it tasted of was chicken.
While we sat around the fire cooking more cutlets, I tried by sign language to make the old man understand where we were heading. I said ‘Tengchong’ and pointed in the direction of northeast, and he nodded his head to show that he understood. I then pointed to the sun and to the east and made an arc with my arms to show him the rise and fall of the sun. He copied what I had done and put up three fingers at first, and then four. So I reckoned that he meant between three and four days to Tengchong.
The sun was well up when we bade our hermit friend goodbye. We had stuffed our pockets with most of the rest of the snake, which he had wrapped up in leaves for us.
On the lower slopes and plains we managed to find wild maize. This went down well with the snake meat. So we did not fair too badly for the next two days.
We saw and encountered all types of animals, but we saw no more people and I thought that this must be the worst part of our journey. Sometimes I thought that we had taken the wrong track, but the rising sun in the morning and the stars at night always showed me that we were going in a general northeasterly direction.
We had crossed two more mountains and had slept on the side of the third. By noon of the next day, I estimated, we should be able to see Tengchong, thus reaching it in the middle of the afternoon.
We were climbing the mountain that we thought would give us a view of Tengchong. It was just before noon, and Lacey had dropped behind. By the side of the road I saw a mound of earth, about six feet in length and fenced in by some roughly cut sticks, which were drawn together at the top, forming an arch. There was a rough cross made from two tree branches. I went closer to look at the words cut into the wood. Unconsciously I read them aloud: ‘Tpr. R. Sharp died Ju … 1942.’ The weather had erased half of the month. I sat down beside the grave and tried to think what month it was now. I had completely lost all knowledge of time. Then my mind went back to the man who lay beneath the mound. Sharp, the joker, always ready with a quip, always trying to bring a laugh to something that was dull and black. He would always come out with a witty remark, and all would seem better.
As I sat daydreaming of the past and enjoying those moments when we had all laughed and joked with each other, drank and made merry, Lacey came slowly up the hill. I glanced down towards him, and all the prejudice forgotten over the past few months came rushing back. I hated the man, hated the sight of him and did not want to even speak to this despicable louse. My hands clenched and unclenched in temper and anger for what he had been responsible for.
Lacey asked me, ‘Who is it, Fred?’
‘Sharp!’ I grated out between my gritted teeth. ‘Another one for you to carry on your back!’ I stood up to face him as I said it.
For a moment Lacey stood silent, looking down at the grave, then, lifting his head to look at me, he said, ‘You can’t forget it, can you, Fred?’
‘No! I bloody well can’t!’ I rasped at him, turning away and walking on up the slope.
Tengchong was on the slope of a long mountain range stretching far to the north. We knew that this range of mountains ran parallel with the border of Burma, which was about twenty-five miles to the west.
I had hardly spoken to Lacey since we had passed Bob Sharp’s grave, and I entered Tengchong well ahead of him. A teahouse was the first thing that I saw, on the edge of the town. There I sat and ordered a cup of tea. Lacey arrived and also asked for tea. By this time a small crowd of people had gathered around us. I knew we looked dirty and unkempt, with beards and long hair poking from beneath our hats. I thought that they are looking at us because we were English. Perhaps they had never seen Englishmen like that.
As we sat drinking our tea and ignoring the watching crowd, two Chinese soldiers armed with rifles came and stood one each side of us. I tried to draw them into conversation, but they would not have any of it. We finished our tea and rose to go.
‘Boo-shu-gworler!’ (‘Don’t move!’) one of the soldiers rapped out.
‘Way-shemma, wor-mun boo chugworler?’ (‘Why can’t we move?’) I asked.
‘You no go, no speak,’ he answered, motioning us to sit down.
I ordered two more teas. Lacey and I sat and talked, sipping our tea and completely ignoring the two guards. After about a quarter of an hour there was a shout from further up the street. The soldiers motioned us to go with them. We pushed our way through the crowd and walked up the cobbled street with the two soldiers on either side of us.
They led us to a large wooden bungalow. There, standing on the veranda, was a smartly-dressed Chinese officer, complete with a sword and shining Sam Browne belt. As we neared the bungalow, he turned and went inside. Our guards motioned us into a spacious room, where the officer was seated at a highly polished table. There was also a well-built Sikh officer leaning at a window and looking out. He had two pips on his shoulder straps.
To him I said, ‘Do you speak English, Sir?’
‘Yes, I do,’ he answered in a well-cultured voice.
‘Then Sir, can you please tell me why we have been placed under guard?’ I asked, turning towards him.
‘That, I’m afraid, was a misunderstanding,’ he answered very politely.
‘But surely, Sir, they must have known we were English?’ I came back quickly.
‘They are not taking any chances,’ he replied. ‘You are probably unaware of the fact that the Japanese have penetrated across the whole of the frontier.’
‘We knew that they had crossed the Taiping River about fifty miles to the south of Man Ying, but that was about two weeks ago,’ I said.
‘So, you didn’t know that Man Ying had fallen, then?’ he asked.
‘No, sir, but I expected it,’ I replied.
‘And that is where you have come from?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Sir, and I didn’t expect a reception committee like this,’ I answered. The big Sikh smiled slightly.
‘And where are you heading for next?’ he asked.
The smile left his face and a queer look came into his eyes when I answered, ‘Sima, Sir, then on to Sadon.’
‘After that, where to?’ he asked.
‘We shall carry on north, to Sumprabum, and west into Assam,’ I continued, not giving him a chance to interrupt. ‘We shall then follow the Brahmaputra River until we run into a British garrison.’
I was getting a little fed up with this questioning, as we had not eaten a decent meal in eleven days. I gave the information as if I was rehearsing it. I knew where I was heading for, and I wondered to myself if they knew where they were going.
The big Sikh stopped me by saying, ‘You realise the risk that you are taking, of course, by going back into Burma.’
‘Yes, Sir, but we have managed this far,’ I replied, ‘and I see no reason to alter our plans now.’
For a while there was silence. He looked at the Chinese officer, who had not spoken a word. I had no idea if he understood English. ‘You also realise that the country is very rough and mountainous,’ continued the Sikh, in a friendlier voice now, as if trying to warn us of the danger we were going into. ‘There are very few villages,’ he went on, ‘and very little food, plus the fact there are roaming bands of dacoit bandits who would kill you just for the fun of it. They hate everyone, even themselves.’
‘Yes sir, we have taken all that into consideration and we both fully understand the position.’ I was adamant now and feeling very hungry.
The Sikh was either speechless or thinking of something else to say to put us off going any further, so I cut in on the silence by saying, ‘Sir, you must realise that we have the shortest part of our journey to accomplish. Besides, we are aiming to catch up with Captain Brown’s party who are ahead of us.’
‘If you are referring to the captain that I think you are, he and his party went through here about seven weeks ago,’ he said.
‘Blimey!!’ I almost shouted in amazement. ‘That is a long while ago, isn’t it, Len?’ I turned to Lacey who had up till then been silent. He mumbled in agreement. Most likely he was thinking of the food he could be eating.
The Sikh officer then turned to the Chinese officer and told him what I had said in Mandarin. The Chinese officer then gave orders that we were not to leave the village until he said we could go. We were not prisoners and could move around the village as we wished, but we were not to go outside until a guide was found to take us some of the way northwards. The guide, we were told, would put us on to the right road that would bring us to a place called Bataum, which was just inside the Burma frontier.
For three days and nights we were supplied with food and tobacco. We hung around the small mountain village, going for small walks so as to keep fit for the journey ahead of us. If we ventured too far from the village or its bounds, a shout from the trees would tell us that we were being watched. After the first day the people began to get used to us and would stop and chat and give us sweets or fruit. The waiting around, however, got on my nerves as I thought of the time already wasted. Lacey found a place where he could get free drinks, and once or twice came back a little drunk, but I never said anything to him about it, as I thought it was up to him. Me, I was ready to move off at any time, night or day.