It was Randle of the 8th Hussars who told me the news one evening. He came running up from the dining-hall as I came down the path from the hill above.
“They’re calling the names,” he said, “and they’ve called yours! They’re sending out a really big bunch to-night and you’re in it.”
I was with the Colonel and Denis; Sam was just ahead of us; Sid was coming back from the crowd in the dining-hall, who were listening to Chang reading out the names.
“l’m down for repatriation, Sid,” I said. “I can hardly believe it.”
“Neither can I,” said Sid. “I’m coming with you!”
We collected our belongings and said our farewells. A truck took us into Kaesong, where we were accommodated for the night in an old temple. Many of our sergeants were already there, and some of our men. I thought that I should find it difficult to rest but I fell asleep almost as soon as I had pulled my blanket over me.
We rose at dawn and, by seven-thirty, were ready on a square outside the temple walls to embus in the convoy of trucks drawn up nearby. Before they were brought forward from the park to collect us, however, we had to have a final speech, reminding us of our good treatment, of our close bond of friendship with the Chinese Peoples’ Volunteers, and our debt to them in being returned home safe and sound.
The trucks were called forward, drawing up a few feet from us. Steps were brought forward to save us the effort of clambering over the back. Chang got into a truck with Carl and me; he was very affable on the surface, and gave us the information that we were due to be handed over at nine o’clock exactly. Beneath his affability, I could see that he was very nervous. I have an idea that he feared that we might do him violence on the last lap of the journey.
The convoy drove through Kaesong and out on to the road that leads to Panmunjon. At a quarter to nine we stopped at a last check-post, run jointly by the Chinese and North Koreans. A Chinese inquired in a honeyed voice if we would care to refresh ourselves with some hot water. We declined. The truck moved on and entered a one-way circuit.
We passed the huge building in which the Truce Agreement had been signed; passed the area where, for over two years, the negotiators had discussed the terms of the Truce. Chang began to point out other places of interest, but my eyes did not follow his directions. Some little way ahead, and growing nearer every second, I saw an area into which helicopters were descending. The truck halted for a moment before turning right on to the main Panmunjon road, littered with good American boots and clothing which the returning Chinese and North Korean prisoners had cast off as they returned to their own side. Now I could see tents and the unmistakable white hats of American military police. Before I could realize it, we had pulled up near the tents, Chang had jumped off, and a pair of steps had been put against the back of the truck. An American began to call out our names as he and a Chinese checked them against a list.
I did not need my bundle of belongings any more. It remained by the seat on which I had been sitting. I suddenly realized that it was a very hot morning as I came down the steps into the sunlight to be clapped on the back by an American soldier who led me towards a wooden arch marked:
“Welcome to Freedom.”
I passed underneath.
It was nine o’clock on the 31st of August 1953.
THE END
The Edge of the Sword Page 31