One morning after I had been in jail a week, I went out rather earlier than usual to the latrine. To my surprise and pleasure, the first person I saw, walking up and down nearby, was Denis, who appeared to have reasonable liberty within the limits of the courtyard of the house in which he was kept. He was taking exercise, one end of his beat bringing him close to the crazy-walled latrine I was visiting. As the sentry was standing some yards away, throwing stones into the stream below us, I risked giving Denis a quiet hail which, by good fortune, he heard. In this way, we established first contact—later devising means of communicating more fully with one another, though we came near to discovery on several occasions. Denis was able to come outside whenever he wished, during daylight, but my visits to the latrine were at uncertain times—sometimes only once, sometimes not at all in a day, according to the whim of the guard.
Gradually, I pieced together what had happened to him. At the end of his six months sentence, he was visited by an unknown Chinese who reminded him that his sentence had expired, declaring:
“Although you have not fully recognised your errors, the Camp Headquarters believes that, inwardly, you are sorry for your mistake. As a result, your sentence in prison is over.”
Denis began to think of getting his belongings together to move back to the compound.
“Fine,” he said. “When shall I be leaving?”
“Your sentence is over,” said the Chinese visitor. “You stay here.”
So the same prison life had continued for Denis for another five months in exactly the same way except that, just before Christmas 1952, he had been moved here from the lonely hut he had occupied on a hillside just above the village containing the annexe to the Camp.
Now, it seemed, he was receiving visits from Big Chu who was trying to persuade him to sign a document that he would “cooperate” with the Camp Headquarters if they returned him to one or other of the compounds—by which they meant him act as informer for them on activities in the Camp. How they had underestimated Denis! It was a great comfort to have him close by.
I spent considerable time in observing the world through a hole in the wall. Whenever the sentry was otherwise occupied, I watched the Chinese as they passed each day, noticing changes in various appointments and routines, changes in accommodation, since I was last in solitary confinement.
Three things remained exactly as before: the morning and afternoon lessons when the soldiers of the guard company continued their reading and writing exercises: the daily hour of military training which was so badly done that I almost broke out on several occasions to show them how the instruction should be put over; and the daily “hate-and-love” meeting—always timed for the last hour of daylight. All the soldiers would assemble in the courtyard opposite to sing their Marxist songs—“The East shines Red”, perhaps, or “The Chinese Volunteers cross the Yalu River”—or to practise a new one just arrived from General Headquarters. In between, there would be lectures in which one could distinguish the words “Mao-Tse-Tung”, “Stalin”, “Chou En-Lai”, “Lenin”, and other Communist leaders. The bright boys in the audience would clap loudly whenever these names were mentioned, sometimes rising to their feet and indicating to their fellows that they should do likewise. But other speeches would contain the names “Mi-goor”, “Li-gee-way” (Ridgeway), Too-loo man (Truman). The love was changed to hate, cartoons of the hated faces might be displayed, fists would be shaken by the leaders and the soldiers would be pressed to imitate this action. The meeting often ended with a song about the international brotherhood of men.
If the Chinese were consistent in nothing else, they were in their attempts to maintain order within the compounds. By the early spring of 1953, a clear procedural pattern had emerged; a pattern that bore strong resemblance to the procedure used in disposing of political offenders in the countries behind the Iron Curtain.
When any individual or group within a compound had too great an influence; or when they were suspected of being involved in some breach of the regulations, those concerned were placed in solitary confinement. Two main factors influenced the speed and measures adopted to settle these cases: the importance of the case, and how full the cells were at the time ! If there was plenty of room, and it was merely desired to keep the individual from the compound for a long period, he might not be examined for weeks or even months. If the case was really important and a “confession” desired for some special use, the examination would be set in hand without delay. If “confessions” were not obtained by stratagem— as with our Colonel—or by pressure, after a reasonable time, again the prisoner would almost certainly languish for many weeks, often months, without any attempt being made to arrange a trial. For the principle in all cases was the same: a prisoner was never released from the jail until he had made a confession of one sort or another; a trial was never held, sentence was never imposed, unless a plea of guilty to some charge—any charge—had been submitted. In this way, the Camp Headquarters could always justify their arrest.
My case was not exceptionally serious. The Chinese suspected that I had been engaged in escape activities; indeed, they had a certain amount of evidence that this was so, but it was evidence of a very limited nature and they could not reveal the source. Having failed to extract a confession from me, I was left for several weeks without further examination as a punishment for my lack of cooperation. When my case was taken up again, sufficient time had elapsed for them to try a different angle without losing face.
It was Chen Chung Hwei who finally came to see me, wearing an oily smile and avoiding any mention of my offences or of my confinement in the outhouse. As soon as he spoke, I knew that he had been sent to obtain some sort of confession. I waited to see if he was about to offer a bargain that I could accept.
“You arc a very foolish man,” said Chen Chung Hwei, as if chiding me for betting on the last horse in the race. “I think you are tired of being separated from your friends.”
I agreed that I would like to sec my friends again. Chen nodded.
“Now, I think you have broken the Camp regulations on several occasions?”
I made no comment, waiting for the proposal.
“For instance, you have appeared late on the morning roll-call four times. And you have sometimes been on the roll-call improperly dressed—not wearing your hat.”
This was the bargain: I was ready to come to terms for my freedom. On the following day, I signed a statement that I had broken the regulations relating to roll-call and that I would try not to break them again. With a smile, Chen pocketed the documents.
“I will ask the Camp Commander to refer your case to your Company Headquarters for punishment,” he said. “I think you may be released now that you have recognized your mistakes.”
I was released on Easter Saturday. On Sunday, with great joy, I saw Denis walking down the path into the compound. It was a truly Happy Easter!
The first thing I noticed on my return was that a stout fence had been put round the compound. The first thing I heard was that agreement had been reached to exchange seriously sick and wounded prisoners and that the truce talks were expected to begin again. I began to wonder if this was why Denis and I had been released a good deal sooner than we had expected—Big Chu had been hinting for some time that Denis would soon be released but we had not really expected it in view of his refusal to sign the “co-operation” certificate. I soon observed that, since the date of the agreement by the Chinese to reopen truce negotiations, amenities in the compound had been greatly improved. The food was infinitely better; new washbowls were brought in, and there were many more of them. Tobacco rations were increased; razors were issued; three boxes of matches were given monthly to each prisoner. But there was more to come.
Unknown to us, Camp Headquarters controlled yet another compound in addition to Nos. 1 and 2 Companies and the annexe, (No. 4 Company). There was a No. 3 Company, containing those captives from the other rank camps who had proved so dangerous to the Chinese that t
hey had required special confinement. Now, with the prospect of the outside world hearing first-hand details about our living conditions from the sick and wounded going out, the wretched lives of these men were suddenly improved a hundredfold, and a number were permitted to visit us to engage in sports contests: softball, basketball, volley-ball, and British soccer. The visitors were accommodated in Pyn-Chong-ni village and thus saw No. 1 Company first. On the following day, the Sunday after Easter, they paid a morning visit to us and, later, some of us were allowed to visit No. 1 Company for the remainder of the matches on the ground in front of the schoolhouse.
I had often been told by the Chinese and North Koreans how bitterly our men hated their officers; how we despised them. This was always a remark which hurt, but I had never foreseen an opportunity to refute it such as occurred when we saw the men who were comrades from our own units.
Riflemen McNab and Agnew could not stop shaking hands with James. And from my Battalion there were Nugent and English of Sam’s Support Company Headquarters, Sergeant Smith of C Company, and Corporal Bailey of the Anti-Tank Platoon. There were two gunners, and two Royal Marines from the Commando besides. We stood on our square after prolonged handshakes, quite unable to express fully our great joy at meeting again. Several minutes passed before we could even begin to exchange news.
The story that these men had to tell appalled us. Their rations throughout the previous autumn and winter had been the same as those given to men from Nos. 1 and 2 Companies in solitary confinement. Many of their numbers were still held separately after savage treatment during jail sentences, but there was hope that these sentences would be terminated now that general conditions were improving. Like us, they had been subjected to the minor punishments of standing to attention for long periods, beatings, and prolonged examinations. But the experiences of some of the men had been even worse. Godwin, Corporals Upjohn and Hartigan, Privates Flynn, Haines, and Lance-Corporal Matthews amongst others had been manacled and confined in boxes, six by three by three feet, for periods up to six months. Corporal Walters, my operator, had suffered such confinement for a lesser period; but had also been compelled to stand to attention for over forty hours on one occasion, until he collapsed. Fusilier Kinne, with whom I had been kept in the south during the late spring of 1951, had been kicked so savagely during a beating-up in jail that he had sustained a double-rupture and now, on his release, was no longer able to walk properly. Yet all these men had stood out against the demands of their captors and refused to “co-operate” on release from these torments. The notes our visitors had brought contained amplification of the accounts they had given us; and we could only hope that, at last, their sufferings were almost at an end.
The final agreement to exchange seriously sick and wounded captives led us to hope that at least four of those in our compound would be included—possibly more. There was a major who could not be cured of his beri-beri, in spite of the recent improvements in our diet; Sergeant Shahir, a Turk, who had suffered a terrible wound in his right thigh and buttock which was still incompletely healed; an American infantry lieutenant whose heart was weak; and Tom, whose loss of a leg surely entitled him to repatriation. There were others, of course: Anthony, with a wounded leg that regularly became inflamed and gave him a high fever, and Hector, the South African pilot, whose wounds required considerable attention on an operating table, were such cases. The lieutenant and the major left us, with all our good wishes. Tom was taken out amidst the smiles of the Chinese and a cheer from us. Sergeant Shahir was not even considered, though our doctors all tried hard to persuade the Company Chinese medical attendant—an ill-trained medical orderly, inadequately disguised as a doctor—of the seriousness of his condition.
We were now permitted to hear the radio news in English from Peking, daily, except when there was news of importance that our captors did not want us to hear. On these occasions something went wrong with the master radio at Camp Headquarters and no news came through. We did, however, hear the news of the exchange of the major and the lieutenant—but Tom was not mentioned. The names of the last men to be exchanged were broadcast and his was not amongst them. Our anger was intensified when we managed to obtain the news by chance that he was still in the village, having refused to sign a paper expressing gratitude to the Chinese for the good treatment he had received.
Undoubtedly, many of those who had been returned to the United Nations’ side of the line were seriously sick or wounded men. But one could not help wondering if it was entirely a coincidence that a not inconsiderable number of them were men who had written “peace-fighting” articles praising their captors, and who now contributed articles to the London Daily Worker. For instance, one soldier—another prominent member of a self-styled “peace-committee”—was returned because he was suffering from a cracked rib, sustained whilst playing football for Camp No. 5, two weeks before the exchange.
To our delight, the truce talks were resumed with every sign of making progress. As the prospect of peace drew nearer, so our conditions improved.
In the second half of May, an inter-company sports contest was held in Camp 2—though the members of the annexe (No. 4 Company, where Joe and all the new officer prisoners were held) were not allowed to send down a team. However, No. 3 Company sent across representatives and they spent almost a week with us as a result. Fortunately, the Chinese permitted us to run the meeting ourselves and thus there were none of those setbacks which characterised the activities they supervised. MacT, a very able American captain, was an overall authority. Through him, the compound had expressed its determination that there should be no political flavour of any kind in the speeches or decorations provided by the Chinese. Niu, who was the co-ordinator for Camp Headquarters in this instance, said that he was most hurt. Looking round the meeting, attended by the committee we had formed amongst ourselves, he said reproachfully:
“You demand that we shall not bring in politics! You demand that there shall be no movie-cameras to take propaganda pictures ! I do not understand why you should adopt this attitude; why you should anticipate that we should be guilty of such behaviour. This is a sports meeting and a means of improving your daily life. Such improvements have been our aim consistently. We do not try to force you to accept our political views!”
He said it, without a smile, to men who, less than two years before, had been told that entertainments, including sports events, could only be arranged if they had a cultural motif—such as the exposure of America’s aggression throughout the world.
Times had certainly changed.
From the extra rations given to us over the period of the sports meeting, we saved a certain amount for Coronation Day, the proximity of which we knew of from letters. No. 1 Company had prepared a considerable amount of rice and potato wine in secret vats; we had kept back saki. Denis and I were both warned on the evening of June 1st that any attempt to celebrate Coronation Day would result in severe punishment. No warning was given in No. 1 Company, but Sam was arrested early in the morning of June 1st, an event we connected with their preparations for the day.
Largely owing to Chang’s anxiety not to have trouble at a time when the truce looked to be near, the Chinese staff remained out of the way while we had our Coronation meal on the evening of June 2nd.Our festivities went off without incident, though the Chinese looked in through the window at the outset to see what was happening. We were all ready for trouble, for we had put up the Queen’s picture—chidden safely for just this moment—and a crown that Arthur made. The singing of the National Anthem, too, went off without incident for the first time in our captivity.
In No. 1Company, however. Sun, supported by others, came in to the party given by the British under Paul—the next senior to Sam—and tried to snatch the cake made in secret from materials laboriously collected. All he actually got was the plate! So menacing was his reception by this time that he and the other Chinese leapt through the window and turned out the guard. After a good deal of confusion in the d
arkness—the lights were turned out at the main by Sulky Tien—the party dispersed, well-satisfied with their contribution to Her Majesty’s celebrations.
The Marine Colonel had been returned to the compound after Easter, having suffered considerably during his eight months in solitary confinement. He had been stripped to the waist on a January night outside Ding’s house. He had been beaten up. There had been demands for “confessions”, and demands for certificates stating that he would “co-operate” on his return. Now, with the renewed prospect of peace, he came into the new compound for the first time. His release led us to hope, once again, for the release of our Colonel.
In the absence of the Marine Colonel, Denis had discussed with the next senior American Officer certain draft orders regarding the behaviour of the United Nations’ captives in the event of a truce and the exchange of prisoners-of-war. It was felt that these were necessary in order that we should maintain a correct attitude towards the Chinese in all camps; that there should be neither fraternisation, nor acts of violence by hot-heads. An order was written and copies issued secretly. These were eventually circulated, unknown to the Chinese, to all camps except those holding recently captured prisoners in staging areas south of the Taedong River. In No. 1 Company, this order had been read out by Sam—the senior officer in the compound. In our compound, it was read out by the compound leader, the major of the United States Marines, sentenced at the same time as Denis in early 1952.
The Edge of the Sword Page 29