On the fourth day of our stay at Tengchong we were asked to go to the Chinese officer’s bungalow once more. The Sikh was there again. I saluted as I entered, and my salute was returned by both him and the Chinese officer, who was seated behind his highly polished table. The Sikh informed me that a guide had been found and that we could leave at dawn the next day. The Chinese officer then got up from his chair, came around the table, held out his hand and wished us a safe journey to India. I took his hand and thanked him for everything.
Then it was the Sikh’s turn, but he said, ‘I think what you are going to attempt is pure madness, just the two of you and unarmed.’
All that I could think of for an answer was, ‘Do you, sir?’
‘Yes!’ he answered.
‘But then, sir,’ I went on, ‘that’s why the British have never been defeated, I suppose.’
His eyes flashed and a grim smile parted his lips as both Lacey and I saluted and marched away back to where we were staying.
At dawn we were ready and waiting outside the bungalow. Quite a number of people had gathered in the early light to see us off, as we had made quite a few friends. Out of the bungalow came the man who was to be our guide, a short stockily built Chinese, dressed in a white open-necked shirt and khaki shorts, and with nothing on his feet. In his hand he carried a short hunting-bow, while across his back was a quiver full of arrows. In the belt at his waist was his long dha, or sword, for hacking down branches and other things. He was clean shaven, and a broad grin came to his face as he approached us. After our greetings, we moved off. We turned back now and then to wave to those who had come to bid us farewell until they were out of sight.
The guide stopped only when he wanted to, and moved very fast although seeming only to go at a casual pace. Many times he waited for us to catch up with him and did not seem at all put out by any delay. He had perhaps been given strict instructions by the Chinese officer to have patience with us and wait.
He showed us his prowess with the bow late in the afternoon when we had eaten the rice packs. He obviously thought that it was time that we had something else to eat before darkness fell, and brought down two large wood-pigeons with his arrows. Skewering them through the neck with a stick, he carried them on his shoulder until he saw a third wood-pigeon and brought that down too.
When we stopped he soon had a fire going, skewered the three birds individually and gave one to each of us. We held them over the flames of the fire and allowed the feathers to burn, leaving the bare flesh to cook in its own fat, and turning them over and over until they were done. At the same time we cooked some maize that we had collected on the way.
We rose at dawn and got going again. After two hours or more the guide led us along a rough mountain ridge, thickly covered with trees, to a fork in the track. Here he stopped and, pointing his finger and waving his arm, said ‘Burma.’ Then, pointing down the left-hand track, which was going in a northwesterly direction, he said, ‘Bataum!’ After thanking him we watched as he made his way back along the track. When he was out of sight I turned and led the way.
Bataum, we reckoned, was about thirty-five miles away, which we thought would take us at least two days of marching. It all depended on the type of country that we had to get over, and again, with no guide to get food out of the air for us, things could become very difficult.
Crossing the rough mountain ridge soon had us tired. How high we were we had no idea. All that we could go by was the foliage of the different trees. We thought we were up at about ten thousand feet. The night seemed to come down more quickly, and we tore off tree branches to make some sort of shelter from the night air that got cooler as the hours of darkness went by. Neither of us slept much. I dozed on and off until dawn came, bringing with it the warmth of the sun.
We had been walking for about two hours, just following the track which meandered up and down, and I was well ahead of Lacey when I saw a bamboo hut further along the track. I thought at first that it was a village but when I reached it I found that it had been built as a rest hut for lonely travellers. I sat down by the stream that ran close by the hut. When Lacey arrived I growled at him and told him that we could have used the hut the night before if we had carried on a little longer.
‘You aren’t blaming me for that, are you?’ he asked angrily.
‘Yes, I am!’ I shouted back. ‘You’re always lagging behind. We could have been here before dark if you had kept up.’
‘I think I’ll shut up,’ he said. ‘You seem to have got off on the wrong foot this morning.’ He lay back on the bank and fell silent.
‘Yes, you do that!’ I ranted at him. ‘We’ll get on much better.’
‘Well, I like that!’ he said, tutting. ‘We’ve walked hundreds of miles together and I doubt if we have spoken civilly to each other more than a dozen times.’
‘Well, Lacey,’ I shouted and glared at him, ‘if you don’t like it, you can always go on your own!’
‘You wouldn’t like it on your own,’ he said with a smirk, ‘no more than I would.’
I stood up. ‘Lacey,’ I shouted, ‘you’re kidding yourself!’ My temper was rising. ‘If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be here anyhow. You!’ I went on pointing at him. ‘You depend on me, not me on you, and I’ll prove it.’ With that I walked quickly away, leaving him still sitting by the stream.
All day I travelled alone, only now and then looking back to see if he was coming along behind. He kept his distance from me until dusk began to fall, and then he began to close the gap between us.
I selected a spot to bed down for the night. Lacey came along and got down on the opposite side of the track. The next morning I set off as quietly as I could, leaving him asleep. I was very tired and hungry as I climbed the steep rise which brought me into Bataum.
It was midday, and the sun was blazing down. This had brought on a great thirst. At the first hut I arrived at I managed to crawl into its shade, completely exhausted. The door opened and an old man came out and looked down at me. ‘Pani mea lager,’ I gasped out. The old man waved me inside the hut, and I struggled to my feet and went into the cool and dark interior.
The old man handed me a bamboo pot of cold water. I drank greedily. As I drank, I saw that there was a second man inside the hut lying on a bed in the furthest dark corner. This man rose from the bed, looked at me and said something to the old man which I could not catch.
After I had drunk as much water as I wanted, I lay back on the floor and closed my eyes. After a short time I felt hands going over my clothes as if I was being searched. Keeping my eyes still closed, I lifted my arms above my head to give the searcher more scope. I then said, ‘Teek hai, teek hai, dekna dow picer nay hai!’ (‘Alright, alright, look inside I have no money!’) The hands stopped groping. I opened my eyes to see the old man kneeling beside me.
The old man did not know what to do with himself. Unknown to the two men, my roll of notes was tucked into the lining of the sleeve of my jacket, so that when I had raised my arms it had passed detection.
The look upon the old man’s face must have triggered off some sniggering from me. In an instant I was simply rolling on the floor with uncontrollable laughter. The old man moved quickly away as if I was possessed of a devil and sat cringing in a corner. The other man, now easy to see as my eyes had become accustomed to the dark, had sat back down on the bed, staring at me as I rolled from side to side in laughter.
Tears began to flood my eyes as new outbursts of mirth engulfed me. Every time I looked in their direction a new wave of laughter came.
My mirth began to subside, and I sat looking at the two men in the darkness of the hut. I wiped the tears from my eyes and face, just chuckling now and then. In Urdu I asked them if they had any food to give me. They said they had none, but that if I went further into the village I would see a large bamboo hut. There I might get food, for that was the headman’s house.
I walked out, now a little refreshed, made my way to the hut indicated, mounted the bamboo veranda and walked to the open doorway. My boots had made enough noise to be heard inside, and a youngish man who looked Indian came out. He had a white turban around his head, a small growth of hair on his chin and a thin line for a moustache. He wore a sleeveless army pullover over a white dirty shirt, a pair of dirty khaki shorts, and open-toed sandals. Around his waist was an army webbing belt, and stuck in this at an angle was a long-bladed knife with a beautiful carved ivory handle.
I spoke in Urdu and asked if he could give me some food. Without any hesitation he invited me inside, where he motioned me to sit near the fire in the centre of the room, but I picked a spot away from it and in the cool.
The young man took a short hunting-bow and a handful of arrows and left the hut. I sat gazing at the glowing fire and various ornaments that hung around the room and wondered if he had at one time belonged to an Indian regiment, had got this far north and then had decided to stay. At the back of my mind there was the feeling that I had seen him before somewhere, but I pushed it away as pure fancy.
I was getting fidgety and impatient. The hunger pains were not any help either. Then there came the sound of a cough from what looked like a pile of old rags in the opposite corner of the room from where I was sitting. I sat still, the sound of a cough came again and the pile of rags seemed to move slightly. Curiosity got the better of me, for I got to my feet and went to the piled rags, which I found were sacks and skins, knelt down beside them and gently lifted the covers. A girl’s pale face, almost white, looked up at me. Dark rings showed around the bottom of her black, almost coal-like eyes. Her black hair fell untidily about her as she raised her head from the rough pillow. For a moment she stared at me in wide-eyed fear. Then a puckered frown came across her forehead, and the stare in her eyes slowly changed from fear to a wan smile, which showed her white well-kept teeth.
‘Toom Taunggyi our hau ou?’ she asked in a weak voice.
Now it was my turn to frown. ‘Yes,’ I answered, a little puzzled, ‘I am from Taunggyi.’
She then lifted a thin yellowy brown arm from beneath the covers, and with her hand covered the lower, bearded part of my face. This puzzled me even more, until she said, ‘Toom Taunggyi hospitali admi hai?’ Then she threw back the covers and showed me her chest. A smell of rotten flesh came up from the clothes. I glanced at the spot she tapped with her fingers and saw the cloth covering a wound. It was then that I realised that this was the same young woman who had been taken away by her husband from the hospital in Taunggyi, hundreds of miles away from here, the night a Gurkha got shot.
I looked closer at the smelly wound. It still had the same dressing which had been put on at the hospital. I carefully removed it, hardly daring to breath, in case I hurt her.
I was on my knees with my head bent forward as I did this. Suddenly, strong hands gripped at my shoulders and pulled me backwards so that I was lying flat on my back, with my head between the feet of my attacker. I looked straight up into the face of the young man. He stepped to the side and, in a flash, put an arrow in his bow, aiming it right at my heart.
The face of the young man had hatred all over it, and at that moment I lost all will to live. The woman was screaming and shouting, but that didn’t register. I had had as much as I could take. I gripped my jacket with both hands and pulled it apart so that my chest was bared. With one hand I tapped near my heart. ‘Go on! Shoot! Go on!’ I shouted. Then I made out what the woman was screaming about, that I was from Taunggyi Hospital and was trying to help her. All this passed through my almost-numbed brain. I was still looking at the young man’s face. Slowly the hatred left it and he relaxed the bow string and lowered the arrow point, turning away like a schoolboy being caught doing something wrong.
For a few moments I lay still. Sweat was pouring from me. I was completely exhausted and I could not move. It was obvious that on returning to the hut and seeing me bending over the woman, the young man had thought I was about to take advantage of her.
Slowly I gathered myself, got to my feet and stood facing him. But he would not look me in the eye. I spoke in Urdu, telling him that I required a clean cloth and hot water with plenty of salt. ‘I shall also need this,’ I said, snatching the knife from his belt. He jumped back and stared at me in fear and raised the still-loaded bow. I smiled and shook my head. I then went and cut some short sticks of bamboo from outside.
When I came back in he was putting a large steel bowl on the fire. He had also got some white cloth and a bamboo pot containing salt. I sprinkled salt in the water and tore the cloth into strips. The water did not take long to come to the boil. The young man stood back as I cut away the old dressing. The woman had two wounds, one in each breast. One was almost central, but just below the nipple, while the other was to the side. She had been hit by two fragments. The wounds were now full of pus and inflamed. The one in the centre was the largest, so I tackled this first. Using the bamboo skewer wrapped with the cloth and soaked in the salt water, I probed out the yellow pus. I looked at her pale face, screwed up in agony, and gave her a sympathetic smile, but carried on probing until I made the wound bleed. I then did the same with the other wound, placed dry pads across both wounds and used strips to hold them in place. As I began to rise, she gripped both my hands together and kissed them. It was her way of saying thanks.
While I had been attending to the woman, unnoticed by me an old man had come into the hut and sat beside the fire. After some time, food was prepared.
As we ate, the old man asked me, ‘Where are you heading?’
‘India,’ I replied.
‘India?’ they all asked in amazement.
‘To go there you must first go to Sima,’ said the old man.
‘The Japanese are there,’ butted in the young man, his eyes widening. ‘They will take you and put you in prison, and maybe they will kill you.’
‘Is there no other way?’ I asked.
‘Go back!’ they both answered together, and pointed down the mountain.
‘How long have the Japanese been in Sima?’ I asked, thinking about Captain Brown and his party.
They were not sure. One said nine days and the other said ten.
In that case, I thought, Captain Brown had got through before the Japanese had arrived.
I was eating a bowl of rice with vegetables and meat when Lacey ambled up to the door. Forgetting our tiff, I shouted to him to come in and get tucked into the food. As we ate, I told him what the two men had said about the Japanese being at Sima. I had not noticed before, but his face and eyes seemed to be puffed up. Looking at him closer, I asked him if he felt alright.
‘Well, I do feel a little funny,’ he replied. ‘My legs seem to get stiff after I have rested.’ He changed the subject and asked me, ‘What are you thinking of doing, Fred, if the Japs are at Sima?’
‘I haven’t quite made up my mind yet,’ I answered, ‘but I am not turning back now after we have come this far. We’ll get a good night’s sleep here and see what tomorrow will bring.’
Although we were in reasonable and comfortable surroundings and I was as tired as I had ever been, sleep would not come. I tossed and turned, going over the problem. Meanwhile Lacey lay on his back, snoring his head off.
The decision was whether to return to Tengchong or try to get past the Japanese somehow or other. I thought that they could not keep watch over the whole of the jungle. I also wondered why they had suddenly come up this far.
This question was nagging at me. It was now five months since Burma had fallen. Perhaps they were expecting a drive or an attack from the northeast and had manned an outpost to give them warning. If so, we might be able to slip past them, as we were coming from the south. They would not be looking for anyone coming from that direction.
I do not know if I slept, but when daylight came I had made up my mind that we were going to go on, Japanese or no Japanese. I still lay where I was when the two men rose, got the fire going and cooked tea and rice. The young woman also raised herself up on one elbow and asked for tea. I lay with my eyes open, looking up at the roof, trying to plan how we could get past the barrier that faced us.
After we had eaten, I asked the two men to sit outside with me. Sitting on the edge of the veranda, I asked them to give me as much information about Sima as they could. I asked them to sketch in the sand what I would see. They told me that there was an old fort which was previously used by the British, overlooking a deep ravine that was the frontier with China. Only one track led up to it, going right past. The fort, a few huts and the main part of the village were all on the right-hand side of the track.
The two men believed that there were about thirty Japanese garrisoned in the village. They did not know whether they were using the fort as billets or not. There was a wire fence to the north of the village that the Japanese had put up and patrolled. The garrison changed every so often and came from a town down in the valley called Washung, on the banks of the Irrawaddy, about thirty miles away. I asked them question after question. They told me that the fort was the first thing we would see as it had a high square tower that you could see above the trees as you got near. Then came the crunch question. I asked if there was anyone in the village who could take us past the wire or who might help us get past. ‘The only man who may help you,’ the old man said, ‘is the headman who was deposed by the Japanese. If you could contact him, he might give you some sort of help.’
It was forty-six miles to Sima, they told us, and it was right at the top of a mountain. They warned us to be very careful how we approached it, for if the Japanese had put a man in the tower he would see us from a great distance away. They also warned us to take care as there was a fork in the track before we got near Sima, and the wrong path led straight down into the valley to the Japanese HQ.
I bade farewell first to the young woman and then to the two men, thanking them both for their hospitality and help. We set off just after noon. I told Lacey that there was no need to hurry, but that at the same time we must be on the alert, as we were back again in enemy territory. I reckoned that, taking it nice and steady, it would take us about three days.
By dusk I estimated we had covered a good ten miles. If we did twenty the next day we would be within striking distance of our objective by the afternoon of the third day.
I warned Lacey that should anything happen he was to get away as fast as he could and I would do the same. I told him to keep about three yards behind me at all times. We tried our best to walk as quietly as we could and at the same time listen for any sound other than those we were now used to. I set a steady pace, having two stops and eating the wild peaches that grew thereabout and also the plentiful wild plantains. For the second stop we went into the jungle and away from the track, following a small stream. Here we took our boots off and washed our feet in the cool water and dried them on the broad leaves of the plantain trees.
We were in no hurry, as I did not want to get within sight of the tower before dark in case there was a watching guard. Dusk is a bad time to see clearly anywhere, let alone in the jungle.
As darkness began to fall on the second evening out from Bataum I looked for a suitable spot where we could rest for the night well away from the track and into the cover of the trees. I reckoned that we had now covered a good thirty to thirty-five miles, leaving us about twelve more to go. If we had been told correctly, we should be near the fork about mid-morning or around noon. There we must be very careful as we would then be within only a few miles of Sima.
Before setting off the next morning we drank and washed in a stream. The puffiness around Lacey’s eyes was even more noticeable than before. His whole face was swollen and he could barely open his eyes. I asked him if he felt alright, and he said yes, except for stiffness around the calves of his legs. I asked him to let me take a look. When I pressed the swollen skin with my thumbs, the depressions remained, leaving great dimples in the skin.
‘Did you get bitten by something?’ I asked him.
‘No, not that I know of,’ he replied.
His legs were swollen like tree trunks. He had to remove his boots to walk, but as we walked the swelling seemed to go down remarkably. The skin around his legs was getting stiff every time we rested, and I could feel the water-like fluid underneath it.
My idea was to get past the fork just before noon, then rest up in the heat of the day and get within sight of the fort towards dusk. My calculation came unstuck somewhat when after about two-hours marching, and not too fast at that, we came to the fork in the track. With plenty of time on our hands, I found a nice shaded spot away from the track, among some tall teak trees. Fallen leaves on the ground made a deep brown carpet. It was against one of the teak trees that we both settled down. The track was about twenty yards away, but not visible from where we were. After a short while sitting there, I must have dozed off. It seemed no time when a hand was clapped over my mouth. I opened my eyes to see Lacey with his fingers to his mouth telling me not to make a noise. He then pointed towards the track. I could see Japanese troops marching past, heading away from Sima, with mules loaded with equipment. We both sat there, hardly moving a muscle, until they were completely out of sight.
For a good half hour we sat in silence in case other Japanese troops were following on behind. Even after a good while we still only spoke in whispers. I asked Lacey how many Japanese he thought we had seen. He made a guess of between twenty-five and thirty. This needed some thinking about. I rested my head back against the tree and thought it out. If they had all left and no one remained in Sima, our troubles were over and we could get through. But if a relief had gone up earlier in the day, then they would be fresh and on their toes. On the other hand, if they had marched the thirty odd miles up here, they would want to get their heads down tonight.
I made up my mind that I would risk it. Only one thing was worrying me. That was Lacey. His legs had got much worse during the day.
I reckoned that we had about six miles to go to get to Sima. So in a whisper I told him to get a little closer but keep clear of the track and stay in among the trees on the right-hand side, the same side as the fort. That way we should see the tower through the trees. We picked our way slowly through the dense jungle, using every bit of cover, stopping now and then to listen. Everything was quiet. Even the birds seemed to be on our side for this last and most dangerous leg of our journey.
It was late in the afternoon when, through the trees, I saw the tall grey tower of the fort with its battlements and gun ports, just like in a Foreign Legion film. Red tiles or slates covered the roof. On the other side of the track, through the trees, I could make out a number of small huts perched high on the hill. I sat for quite some time watching the tower for signs of movement, the sort a man on guard makes when he has nothing else to do. When I tried to rise to my feet I felt awful stiffness in my legs. I lifted my trousers and looked at my legs. They were swollen almost beyond recognition. Oh, no! I said to myself, not now! Not after we have come this far.
Lacey came near me and said, ‘Oh, so you’ve got it as well now, have you?’
‘Come on! Let’s get moving before our whole bleeding bodies seize up and we can’t move at all,’ I said, more in despair than anger.
Walking stiff-legged we managed to climb a small incline, keeping in the cover of the trees. To our right we could hear the rush of water cascading down to a great depth. This told us that we were near the ravine. As I walked, to my relief, for some reason the stiffness went from my legs and I found that I could walk normally. I glanced at Lacey, but he was still having difficulty walking.
Darkness came as we made our way through the trees towards Sima. Keeping well to the side of the track we got to the top of the hill and crept around the ravine-side of two huts which showed a glimmer of light. A little further on we came to the dark wall of the fort. I edged my way quietly along the small gap between the shrubbery and wall, going away from the village to the eastern side, and Lacey followed. We could now hear the water as it tumbled into the ravine more clearly. I stopped now and then to listen for any footfalls that may be on the other side of the wall, but heard none. So far there was no sign that the fort was occupied. When we got to the northeast corner I stretched up my arms and gripped the top of the wall. Standing on tiptoes, I pulled myself slowly up until I could see the dark shape of the barrack rooms inside. There was not a sound.
I whispered to Lacey to stay where he was at the northeast corner so that I could easily find him again in the darkness then, creeping cautiously, I moved along to the corner facing the village. I could hear girlish laughter and giggles coming from the huts across the track. Keeping close to the ground I peered around the corner. As I did so, a door in one of the huts opened, sending a beam of light onto the ground. I froze. A Japanese soldier in his puttees and breeches and open-necked shirt came out into the darkness. His cigarette glowed against the side of the hut as he drew on it while he relieved himself.
I kept perfectly still, hardly moving an eyelid. Turning around, he drew once more on his cigarette and did up his flies. It seemed as if he was looking straight at me, but he drew on his cigarette once more, flicked it away and went back inside. I relaxed and put my head on my arms with a sigh of relief.
Towards the northern part of the village, standing alone was the headman’s bamboo hut with glimmers of light seeping out. It was raised about two feet above the ground on stilts, and by the light I could make out the track as it wound up the hill. The hut was on the left of the track and about twenty-five yards from the brush that ran parallel with the track.
I made my way back to Lacey and told him to stay where he was. I then went in a northerly direction, keeping the sound of the water on my right until I thought I was opposite the hut, then crawled through the undergrowth to the edge of the brush and went a further ten yards from the track. I could now see the hut more clearly, but I had misjudged and was about ten yards short of being directly in line with the hut. So, back I went into the thick brush, crawling almost all the way on my belly. Once again I crawled towards the track, and this time I was almost opposite the hut. For a moment I lay flat and rested, looking both left and right to make sure that no one was about. The noise coming from the other huts told me that the Japanese were using them as billets. This, I thought, might be in my favour. I lay in the brush, not knowing what to expect, when I made my dash across the track to the hut. Although the evening was getting cooler, the sweat was oozing out of my body. I had also begun to shake a little, possibly from the tension of what I was about to do. Come on, I said to myself, pull yourself together! It was then that I got to my knees, dug my toes into the earth and, rising up onto my hands, dashed across the open ground, striding over the track and diving full length under the hut. I had moved fast, and it left me breathless and panting. I remained there, quite still, for some time, until I had regained both my breath and my composure.
I wriggled about a little to try to see through the bamboo floor. Chinks of light penetrated through the strips. I turned over onto my back, so that I could look straight up. Then I heard a creak as someone moved above me. There was no sound of talking, so I presumed that whoever was above me was alone. It seemed hours, but it was only minutes, before I risked tapping on the floor above me. At first my tapping was weak and there was no response. I tapped again, this time harder, and there was some movement above. I tapped again, and heard a scuffle and more movement. Finally I forced a gap between the strips of bamboo, and then forced my hand through. Someone gripped my fingers. Quickly I withdrew them, then a voice came down to me in Urdu, asking who I was.
‘English,’ I whispered.
‘Don’t stay here. Go to the trees. I’ll come to you,’ came the reply.
Without another word I dashed back to the edge of the brush as fast as I could. I did not have long to wait. An old man, the headman, came creeping through the shrubs and we immediately made our way to where I had left Lacey near the wall of the fort.
Quickly and not wasting any time I asked the man if he could get us past the road block, or if he knew a way around it. He explained that the Japanese had erected a wire fence in a half circle. He had no idea how far west, but it was guarded up the track about a quarter of a mile by four men with a machine gun. They were changed every day in the morning. All of them stayed for one month at a time. This accounted for the party going down, I thought. I asked him if there was any chance of going along the ravine, but he said no, as it was about a one hundred feet sheer drop to the river.
He then said that his brother was coming later and wished to join his family who lived in the northwest. ‘He would probably take you,’ he said. He then told us to wait where we were and he would tell his brother about us. In the meantime he would bring us both food and something to drink. He said that he could not be gone long from his hut as someone might want to know where he had been, as he was being watched day and night.
About an hour had passed when we heard someone coming towards us through the trees. We both concealed ourselves just in case it was someone other than the headman. But it was he, laden with a sack of food and a large bamboo pot of steaming tea. The next time he came was about one o’clock in the morning. This time he brought another man who he said was his brother and who would show us a way past the wire.
Our guide, from what I could see of him in the dark, was a very rough-looking man. His hair stood out in a frizzy style, he was bearded, and one could hardly see his face. He wore a dark brown skin-like jacket with no sleeves, showing a pair of muscular arms, and for trousers wore what looked like cut-off pants tied at the waist with a leather thong. The old headman left us, shaking our hands and wishing us well. Our guide then motioned us to follow him. He led us back down the hill, the way we had come earlier.
Keeping well into the trees and down past the huts on the fort side, we were about a mile or so away from the village. We crossed the track going due west for about half a mile, then turned north. Our guide stopped us with raised hand now and then. He went forward alone and upon return motioned us to keep down. After about ten yards of crawling on hands and knees we came to an entanglement of barbed wire. From the east, and carried on the slight breeze, came the murmur of voices. Our guide began pulling clumps of earth away from beneath the wire. Eventually there was a large enough gap for a man to crawl under. He lay on one side and motioned me to hold up the wire while Lacey crawled through. I went next, then came our guide. Lacey had moved away a little, but I stayed and watched the man replace as much earth as possible so that the gap would not be seen. I then knew that this man had done this before.
For about half an hour we followed this man through the thick jungle. None of us spoke. It was amazing how he picked his way in the darkness. I am quite positive that without his help we could never have made it.
We were climbing what seemed a steep hill of rough jungle. Then at the top we came to a piece of flat land. After a few yards we came to a track. Here our guide halted, pointed up the track northwards and spoke the only word he had spoken the whole time, ‘Sadon.’ Both Lacey and I turned and looked up the track, and when we turned back to thank him he had vanished without a word. I would dearly have liked to at least say thanks.