by Nevil Shute
He was asked about his mission, and he told them, to destroy Japanese military shipping on the river.
Then, “How many aeroplanes have the British got at Cox’s Bazaar?”
So far, Morgan had seen no sign of any Japanese. He said, “Before I answer that, will you tell me who you are?”
The man said, “Answer the question. How many aeroplanes have the British got at Cox’s Bazaar?”
Morgan said, “It varies every day.” And then he said, “I want to ask you formally to take me before an officer.”
The man said, “You are before one now. I am a captain in the Burma Independence Army, Captain Utt Nee.” He paused, and then said, “I have no time to waste. If you do not answer the questions, it will be bad for you.”
The pilot said, “I’ll do my best, but it’s not easy to answer that one. Aircraft move about very quickly. One day there might not be more than fifty on all the airstrips at Cox’s. Another day there might be three hundred or more. It varies so.”
There was a stir among the men in the room. Utt Nee said, “You are lying, Englishman. You never had three hundred aeroplanes on the whole Burma front.”
Morgan said, “I’m not lying at all. I’m counting in the transport machines as well as the first-line aircraft. If you take in all the aerodromes in Bengal, the total of aircraft on this front would be more like three thousand. There’s the American Strategic Air Force that’s as large as ours.” He went on to tell them more about the figures, judging the information to be valuable in making an impression on these Burmans.
They asked about the number of tanks and guns, but although he had some idea of this he professed ignorance; the figures were not so impressive. “I’m in the Royal Air Force,” he said. “We see tanks and guns about in parks and on the roads, but I’ve no idea how many there may be. I’d only be guessing if I told you any numbers.”
The man said something in Burmese, and Morgan was taken back to the lock-up. There was no bed or furniture of any kind; clearly he would have to spend the night on the bare earth, and that was not too clean. In the semi-darkness, in the few gleams of light that came in through the bamboo walls from the lighted house, he sat down in a corner, leaning up against the walls, his feet stretched out along the ground, to wait for sleep.
Half an hour later the door opened again, and he got to his feet. His guards were there, but with them was the young Burmese woman whom he had seen sitting on the floor behind Utt Nee. She had two blankets in her arms.
She said in English, “I have brought you some blankets. This is a very poor place, and you will have to sleep on the ground. If you have to stay here another night, my brother will have a bed built up for you.”
He said, “I say, that’s very nice of you.” He took the blankets. “I’ll be perfectly all right with these.”
“Have you had enough to eat and drink?” she asked.
He said, “I got some rice—I don’t want any more to eat. I’d like another jug of water.”
She spoke in Burmese to the guards, one of whom went off to get it.
He said, “Tell me, are you people fighting the Japanese?”
“You must ask my brother that,” she replied.
He said in wonder, “You speak English very well.”
She laughed. “I ought to. I worked for Stevens Brothers in Rangoon for three years. I was Mr James Stevens’ personal secretary. Before that I was at Rangoon High School.”
He said, “What are they going to do with me?”
“They are talking about that now,” she replied. “Probably they will hand you over to the Japanese.”
“The British will give you a good reward if I am taken back to them unhurt,” he observed. “It’s all written in Burmese on a sort of handkerchief in my haversack.”
She said a little scornfully, “We know that, Mr Morgan. They will not pay much attention to your ransom money—there are more important things than that which will determine what they do with you.”
“I didn’t mean to be rude,” he said awkwardly.
The guard came back with the chatty. “Here is your water,” she said. “Is there anything else you want?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good night, then,” she said, and went out. The guards locked the door behind her.
Morgan was left standing in the hut with the blankets in his arms, wondering. The girl had spoken to him just like an Englishwoman, though she was indubitantly Burman. She had a lilting accent to her voice; she had a broad, yellowish face, with slanting eyes, and straight black hair done in a knot behind her head. She was dressed in native costume, with bare feet thrust into sandals.
He turned, and made a rough bed of the blankets on the ground and lay down, wrapping himself around as a protection against mosquitoes; and presently he fell asleep.
Next morning he was taken out at dawn and allowed to wash in a bucket of water, and to go to a latrine, and given more rice. An hour later he was taken to the house again. There were fewer people in the room this time. Again Utt Nee, the Burman with the red star on his arm, interrogated him, the girl sitting on the floor behind.
Utt Nee asked, “How many soldiers have the British at Cox’s and near by?”
Morgan said, “I don’t know—quite a lot. Not many English troops, but a great many I.O.R.s—the Indian Army. I should think there might be three or four divisions.”
“You mean forty or fifty thousand men? It will go badly for you if you tell us lies.”
“I should think that’s about it. I don’t know much about the Army, though.”
There was a quick interchange of sentences between the around him in Burmese.
Utt Nee said, “If the British have so many men as that, why do they not attack?”
Morgan said, “They are attacking in the north, and on the Chindwin. Now that the war with Germany is pretty well finished, masses of stuff are coming out here. By the spring we ought to be advancing all over Burma.”
The Burman eyed him steadily. “What do you mean, the war with Germany is finished?”
Morgan said, “Well, we’ve got up to the Rhine.”
“You mean, the river Rhine? The river between Germany and France?”
There was a buzz of excited conversation in Burmese. They questioned him very intently, seeking to trip him up and make him contradict himself. They produced a small school atlas and made him show them the position of the Rhine and the areas occupied by the British and American forces. Presently the questions ceased, and he sat on almost unnoticed while a debate took place between the men, speaking in Burmese.
Once Utt Nee turned to him, “Do you know Major Williams?”
Morgan shook his head blankly. “Never heard of him.”
Presently Utt Nee made a sign to his guards, and they took him out of the room; the debate in Burmese went on hotly behind him. At the door of his lock-up the guards checked; Morgan turned round, and the girl was there.
She said, “Mr Morgan, I want to ask you a few questions myself.”
He said, “Of course.”
“First,” she said, “I want to warn you to speak nothing but the truth to us. It is important to us that we should know the truth of what is going on outside Burma; we have heard nothing for three years except what the Japanese chose to tell us. It is important to you, also, because if my brother finds that you have told one single lie he will have you killed. He changed his name last year. He is now called Utt Nee, which means the Red Needle. Do you know why he is called that?”
Morgan grinned at her. “Well, I can guess.”
She hesitated. “You seem a brave man,” she said at last. “I want you to be careful, too, and tell us nothing but the truth.”
“A prisoner of war doesn’t have to talk at all,” said Morgan. “You’re a civilised people; you know that. If you mean to kill me if you think I’m telling you lies, I’d better keep my mouth shut.”
She was silent for a moment. “I believe you,” she said at last. “I think that wh
at you have been telling us is the truth. Some of the men in there”—she indicated the house—“think that you have been telling us a pack of lies to try and save your life.”
Morgan said, “I can’t help that. I’ve done my best to answer truthfully, but they asked me a great deal that I don’t really know about.”
She said, “How soon do you think the English will attack? How quickly will they get down here, into the delta?”
He replied, “I don’t know. If I told you anything at all, it would only be my own opinion. If it turned out wrong, you would say that I told you lies and have me killed.”
“But we must have something to go on. How else can we tell what to do?”
He paused for a moment, and then said slowly, “Your brother told me that you are the Burma Independence Army. If you’re the lot I’m thinking of, you fought against us when the Japanese drove us out of Burma; you killed a great many of our chaps. Some of them were tortured.”
She faced him. “That is true,” she said firmly. “We fought to make our country free; we have been exploited by you foreigners long enough. I do not know about the tortures, but we fight our wars more bitterly than you do yours. You are kind to all prisoners, no matter how bad and treacherous they are. My people are not so gentle.”
The pilot glanced at her. “Are you still fighting with the Japanese against us?”
She said vehemently, “Never again with the Japanese.” There was a pause, and then she said, “We are what we say, the Burma Independence Army. You British ruled us simply to make money out of us; you took away our teak and rice and sold them for a high price, and took the money for yourselves. The Japanese promised us independence, so we fought with them to turn the British out.” She smiled cynically. “After that we found that the Japanese only meant to turn us into a colony for their own benefit. They took everything, even the sewing machines out of the villages, and sent them to Japan. They pay our coolies in paper money made in a note machine on the pay desk. Our country is ruined, and we are worse off than we have ever been.”
Morgan asked curiously, “Would you like to have the British back again?”
There was a long pause. “For myself, I would,” the girl said. “We have learned one thing; we are not strong enough to stand alone against great nations. If we have to have foreigners in our country at all, I would like it to be either the British or the Americans, and we know the British better. We have no quarrel with the British people—most Burmans get on very well with most British. But to be governed by your English sahibs who think themselves superior to us simply because of the colour of their skin—that is unbearable. We will not have it any longer. If you try to impose it on us again, we shall murder every Englishman in the country.”
Morgan said, “Starting with me.”
The girl broke into laughter. The guards looked at her uncertainly, with wrinkled brows; they had not understood one word of this English talk. “It is a long time since we have had an Englishman near enough to kill. Perhaps we shall keep you as a curiosity.”
Morgan said keenly, “What about the Japanese? Have your people killed any of them?”
The girl said, “A few. When we hear of a very small patrol in the jungle, my brother leads a force out to surround them; then we kill them all and take their arms. In that way we are getting a few weapons for our secret army.”
She glanced up at him. “How long will it be before the British reach here? We must know that.”
He rubbed his chin. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “I don’t know. I can only tell you that something will be starting very soon—I think it has already started in the north. When it does begin, it may go very quickly.” He paused, considering. “This is November, and the monsoon breaks in June. I doubt if we shall get as far as this before next June—but we might.”
“What makes you think that you will advance so quickly?”
He said, “The numbers of aircraft, and guns, ships, and machines. They are simply pouring out here now, now that the war in Europe is coming to an end. Men, too. Look at me. I was in England only four months ago. Now I’m here. And there are hundreds of thousands like me in Bengal.”
She said, “Oh … you were in England four months ago?”
He said, “That’s right.”
She said, “How is Mr Churchill? Is he all right? He is a very great man.”
Morgan said, “He’s all right. He’s still Prime Minister.”
She thought for a minute. “How is Deanna Durbin? Is she well?”
He blinked, and then said, “I think so. I saw her in a picture not long ago.”
She said, “I like her pictures very much, ever since ‘One Hundred Men and a Girl.’” She laughed. “And Rita Hayworth—is she all right still?”
He replied, “I saw her in a film called ‘Cover Girl,’ just before I left London. She was simply lovely. She dances awfully well now.”
The girl sighed. “Here we see nothing but Japanese propaganda films, all about people looking at cherry trees and going away to war to die for the Emperor. They are very dull.”
He said, “Never mind. It won’t be long now.”
She turned to him. “Do you know Major Williams?”
He shook his head, “I’m afraid I don’t. Who is he?”
She said, “You are quite sure?”
“I don’t know him. Who is he—is he here?”
She dropped her voice a little. “I remember him—he was in Rangoon—he was the buyer for Everett and Fraser—a young man with red hair. They say that he is in Bassein, and that he is trying to get men to join what he calls a V Force—V for Victory, in English. My brother saw him ten days ago. He said the same as you have done, that the English would sweep forward very soon. Utt Nee did not believe him, but now you are here and you have said the same things as he did. That is why they are arguing so long in there. They do not know what to do.”
“I see,” said Morgan thoughtfully.
They stood together in silence for a minute. The guards stood patient beside them; to these men time was of no importance.
He said, “How did this Major Williams get into the country?”
She said, “They say that a small aeroplane brought him, and flew away again, by night. I do not know if that is true.”
Morgan nodded; it was probably true enough. There was a flight of L-5S, he knew, that worked on missions such as that, but it was a long flight for an L-5 to come right down from Cox’s to Bassein. If this man Williams was in touch, however, it might well be that he could get him out by air.
He said, “Well, it’s in your hands. If you’re going on playing with the Japanese, you’ll give me up to them, dead or alive. If you decide to turn and help the British, then you’d better hand me over to this Major Williams.”
She said, “That is what I should like to do, myself.”
He laughed, “I’m an interested party, so I’d better not give my opinion.”
She laughed with him; beside them the guards stirred uneasily. “Go back in there,” she said. “I am going in to see my brother.”
Morgan lay all day in the lock-up. Peering between the bamboos he could see the house. There was a continuous sound of voices from the room where he had been examined, and twice he heard voices raised in passionate argument and declamation. Once or twice he thought there was going to be a fight. From time to time Burmans came to the house and went in, or departed from it; they were all men, and all incredibly young. Some of them seemed hardly more than fifteen to his inexperienced eye, and all were certainly under twenty-five. It was hot in the little hut, and flies tormented him all day.
He was fetched out again at dusk, and taken to the house. Utt Nee received him, standing beside the table.
He said, “You have been talking to my sister.”
Morgan said, “Yes. I answer questions from anybody who asks them. I tell them the truth, so far as I know it.” Instinctively he was terrified of seeming to show interest in a native woman.
Morgan was silent.
“Now you have come, and you tell us the same beautiful stories, and we do not know what we can believe. So I am sending you to this Major Williams as a proof of good faith on our side. On his side, I am saying that he must provide us with five hundred hand grenades and fifty light machine guns, with two hundred rounds of ammunition for each gun. We cannot do what he wants us to do without grenades and guns. If he trusts us, he will give them.”
He paused. “I send a present for a present. I give you to him as token of our good faith. As token of his good faith he must give us the grenades and guns. I will not work for him on empty words alone from an Englishman. I have had some of that before.”
Morgan said, “How far are we from Bassein?”
The Burman said, “About fifty miles. I shall send you to this Englishman with a small patrol under my lieutenant, Thet Shay. They will take paths that keep you away from the Japanese. I cannot go with you myself, though I should like to. I must report this to my colonel, in the direction of Pegu.”
Morgan said thoughtfully, “You have no signals—no field telephones or radio?”
“None that we can use. That is another thing this Major must supply if we are to fight with the English. We must have small radio sets, and men to work them.”
Morgan said, “What do you want me to tell this Major Williams? Do you want me to give him your messages, or will your man, Thet Shay, do everything you want? I’ll help in any way I can.”
Utt Nee sat in silence for a minute. “Thet Shay speaks no English. I do not know how well this Englishman speaks our language. When I met him, we spoke English all the time. I know he speaks Burmese a little.”
Morgan said, “You speak English perfectly. What were you before the war?”
“I was a student at Rangoon University. I was studying to be an engineer. I suppose you are surprised at that. You English people think of us as naked savages. But our religion and our culture are much older than yours. In your country you have only taught the common people to read and write in very recent times. In Burma, for over a thousand years every boy has learned to read and write in our religious schools. And yet you have the impudence to think yourselves superior to us. You only ever were superior to us in one thing. Do you know what that was?”