Subtly, artfully, she began trying to change their topic but he was adamant, oblivious to her efforts. His appetite fell away. He only took a little wine as he nibbled at his dinner. As the days passed his unchanging mood began to wear on her, filling her with dark apprehensions. Despite his outwardly calm and placid manner she felt that in his reading there was an underlying sense of urgency. It was as if he believed that somewhere within those pages lay a doctrine, a creed, upon which his very life depended, and that in this contest for his survival the only other contestant was Time.
But what really disturbed her, she told herself, was his unawareness to his own dilemma; a feeling that he was placid throughout, unaware of his own sense of urgency. Finally she knew she must have it out with him, she must tell him. Once she had planned and in her mind rehearsed what she would say to him only to find out that in her too careful planning, her too careful rehearsing she had lost her ability to say what she wished in the way that she wished. No other opportunity presented itself because abruptly as if all the reading and questioning were a part of some mathematical problem that had suddenly been solved the reading stopped.
He began to extend himself with exercise again. Within several days he was running four miles on the beach, walking four more and swimming three. His appetite increased and he began to gain weight again, and in the evening he waited on the porch for her arrival with a pitcher of martinis, the record player blaring festive music.
Over five weeks had passed since his arrival in Colombo, Lashio fell. And three days after that town was officially secured Con received a message from Ringa that the troops were making a leisurely encampment near that city, waiting for air-transportation to Bahmo. It was a bonus airplane ride that Colonel Pearson had suggested, the message said, and the Kachins awaited it eagerly. At Bahmo the troops would again encamp, assemble, then make the upward march to Sinlumkaba as a unit.
Con by his own initiative flew up to Kandy. He visited with Gus and was briefed in general on his new job. He was to see that agents were placed properly along the natural Japanese line of retreat from Rangoon. Further he was to fly behind the lines to bring back certain information personally, or land from P.T. boat or small submarine on isolated portions of the shoreline to place agents or bring back information.
Con told Gus how Danny had died and Gus suggested that Con make out a formal recommendation for a posthumous British citation which Con was glad to do. After all, he thought, Danny was a professional soldier. So he made out the recommendation in the office that day with the help of Gus’s secretary, then they went to dinner. Con stayed the night with Gus and they discussed the campaign and Gus promised that he would now use his influence to get Con permission to marry. But it was the Kachin situation that Con had really come to impress Gus with and this he did. After all, he had deduced on the beach, the Kachin Hills were a British protectorate and if he could get influential British sympathy for those people their fate was secure.
In fact Gus bade him to stay the next morning and give the Kachin story to Mountbatten. It was arranged.
Now ever since Danny’s death Con had been carrying his monocle around in his pocket. He had no real reason but one day he had missed it at the cottage and searched fervently for it for two hours before he found it on the closet floor. Now he knew what he would do with it. He presented it to Mountbatten saying that Danny requested it at the last moment and that Danny’s last words were for him, Mountbatten, to assure the security of the Kachin people. It was a deliberate lie, and Gus recognized it to be a lie.
But it did the trick. And coming down the steps from His Lordship’s office Con said to Gus, “I never enjoyed telling a lie more in my life. And I don’t think anybody’s laughing harder than Danny wherever he is.”
Gus did not laugh, but was startled by the way in which Con had spoken of Danny. Spoken, Gus thought, as if it were unthinkable not to believe that Danny had been present all the time.
Con returned to Colombo and began to write his final order of the day to be delivered to the Kachin troops at Sinlumkaba. Nautaung had requested this when he came to visit Con in the hospital, and had told Con that the orders were to be written with the most careful consideration, that the order should in effect establish a policy to be followed by the veteran’s group which no doubt would be the new ruling factor of the Kachin people.
In longhand on lined paper Con wrote for four days cutting deleting and editing his final message. A message came from Ringa that the troops were moving to Sinlumkaba. And Con wired back for Niven, the priest, Nautaung, Doc Travis, Subadar Major Winston-Smythe Churchill to meet him at the Assam base for a final discussion, then they would all fly together to Sinlumkaba.
Immediately Con left Colombo arriving at the base the next day at noon. The Colonel wasn’t there and Con took over the main house and had a fine dinner prepared in the main diningroom. At four that afternoon the leaders arrived from Bahmo.
It wasn’t a festive occasion. It was raining hard outside and they stood around having martinis in small groups. Con sidelined the priest and told him what he had arranged with the British.
“So, you’re on trial as Governor,” Con was saying. “I told them exactly what I thought of you. That you were a drunk, and a liar, and sometimes a cheat. But that you had a good heart and guts. And that truly you love the people. I have arranged it with Colonel Piccolo that if you fall down in any way, should anything happen to me, that he will contact General O’Hanlon, whom I have written, and the whole wrath of your Pope will descend upon you mercilessly. I have written the final order of the day. Nautaung and I will go over it later. And if Nautaung approves that will be the policy that you will follow. It will not, I can assure you, be in accordance with your own line of thought on the matter. However you will follow it to the letter and spirit of which it was written … do you understand?”
“Ay,” the priest said stroking his grey white beard. “And I have forsaken you and the people,” he said.
“Don’t be so goddamn dramatic, Father,” Con grinned.
He shook his head. “I can’t seem to help that, lad. It’s my nature. But don’t you worry I’ll do the job. You remember that night we started away, the Danny lad and I? Well, when Danny got his out there he made promise if he didn’t make it I’d give you a hundred per cent. I’m not one for death-bed promises lad but that one I made and that I’ll keep …”
“And Danny’s joke, Father?”
“A joke? No joke, Con. No joke at all, lad. I’ve seen too much of the devil’s own work in this heathen land. I’ve carried news to the Hills it was impossible for the people to know, I have, yet when I arrived they knew before me,” the priest said seriously, eyes downcast. “Danny said that if I didn’t keep my promise to you and the people he’d come back in the form of a Nat spirit and haunt me.”
Con chuckled studying the priest. He couldn’t tell whether the Father was really serious or conning him, but in his mind he could picture Danny saying it. It sure was typical Danny. “Thanks for getting us out, Father,” Con said. “And I want you to know something else: That if I didn’t think you could do the job I’d have seen you didn’t have it. As it was I suggested you for it. I believe in you,” he said and walked away.
They assembled at the table. Subadar Major Winston-Smythe Churchill rose, his pure white hair glistening from the light of the chandelier above. He made a toast. “To the Dus who are not here, the Dua Danny, the Du Danforth,” he said formally, dramatically. They drank.
Nautaung rose. “To the people,” he said, “and the Du Island.”
They drank.
The priest rose. “To the future.”
Niven started to get up but Con held his hand up signaling him down. There were no more toasts. They ate making a kind of forced conversation.
After dinner they met with Colonel Pearson’s executive officer discussing the final administrative details of the demobilization, the arrangements for severance pay, for compensation for the woun
ded and dead, for a final audit of the financial records, for the channels through which a veteran might receive free medical treatments for himself and his family. All this had been set up expertly through channels and the meeting was over quickly.
The next morning they met with base judge advocate and discussed the legality of transfer of appropriations from the American government to the Kachin people when they would be forthcoming. The advocate suggested an army civil administrator to advice the priest and the executive officer promised to make an immediate requisition for such a man from Delhi.
They got into a DC-3 and flew to Bahmo. From there they were ferried by light plane up to Sinlumkaba which was fifteen minutes by air. After the last plane landed the troops formed a square around the airfield. A large four foot high platform was placed in the center of the square. They were over four thousand and the sun shone clearly and in the distance was Nautaung’s mountain.
Subadar Major Winston-Smythe Churchill made an eloquent speech reviewing their great victories. Danny’s Subadar Major made a similiar speech. Nautaung said a few words, then Niven, each speaking in turn from the platform, the troops cheering at every phrase. Con spotted La Bung La, neatly dressed, his black beret set jauntily on the side of his head. He started towards him and the Subadar Major snapped to attention, unable to salute now with his arm gone. Con turned and went back and took Ringa’s field glasses and walked over and gave them to La Bung. Then ordered La Bung to say a few words. He said only, “I am proud.” And walked back to his position.
Con asked Doc Travis, then Ringa, if they wanted to say anything. They reneged.
Con took the platform, standing at attention. He had on freshly laundered khakis, para boots, and his bush hat. His .38 hung from a cartridge belt. He stood imperially erect with his head far back, his goatee glistening a reddish brown in the sunlight. He took a paper from his pocket, waited until silence came over the troops, then read in Kachin:
“Months ago I came here a stranger. I could offer you only death and pain and the things that are war. You gave me love. You showed me strength and courage and shared your ancient wisdom. You let me sleep in your house, hunted with me in your forests, drink your laku, share your buffalo meat. I gave you death and pain in return.
“That is goodness of a magnitude that my world does not know. In your gesture was a dignity and a nobility that has long since passed from my world. In knowing you I have had the fulfillment that few men have known.…
“Once not so long ago I feared that with the end of the war your Hills would be invaded by others than the Japanese. By buildings. By schools. By the things the people of the valley have that you do not have. I feared that the peace and quiet, your way of life, to hunt and fish and live would be taken away, the Hills destroyed. Now I think differently.
“You must take what money you receive. You must educate your most gifted. You must go into the world and spread the goodness and the wiseness and the happiness that is you. Because you have it, it is your duty to share it … for to hide these priceless gifts would be a sin.
“You are born leaders. You must fight now so that no longer will your brothers die in your arms.
“As your military commander, as Duakaba by your own appointment—Duakaba, leader and head of all the Hills, as your friend I make this final wish forgetting not for one moment that it is also the wish of the Dua Danny whose spirit will forever watch over the Hills.
“My wish:
“That you do not shun your duty. That you spread your good ways through the land. That you progress.
“It is my faith that if you will do this it will be a better world because of you …
“Because of you I am the luckiest man that ever lived.…”
There was almost a minute of complete silence, then the men began to cheer as he had never heard them cheer before. They broke ranks and began to close en masse on the platform. Con cried openly in front of all the men. He stepped from the platform and shook hands around.
“Take care,” he said to Doc Travis. Then turned to Ringa. “Have them start the plane.”
He shook hands with Niven. “I’ve a job for you and Ringa when you get done here,” he said.
“We’ll come, boss,” Niven said, swallowing deeply.
The men had closed in now and Con shook with as many as he could and felt them pounding on his back as he began to push his way towards the plane. He put one arm around Subadar Major Winston-Smythe Churchill and another around Subadar Major La Bung La working his way with their help his eyes searching the mass of men for Nautaung.
They reached the area of the small plane and Churchill shouted to the troops and they quieted suddenly, then backed away giving them room.
Con said good-bye to Ringa, then asked, “Where’s Nautaung?”
“Here, Dua,” Nautaung said.
Con turned around. Nautaung was sitting in the rear seat of the plane. “You can ride on my lap,” he said.
“But …” Con started to say.
“There is nothing for me here,” the old man interrupted. “And I am a soldier.”
Con laughed through his tears. The plane started. He climbed inside. The troops made room as the plane taxied up to the end of the runway and cheered as it came down fighting to gain altitude. Airborne they circled the town; saw the little white cottage on top of the hill, the ponies and cattle grazing, the troops waving from the airfield, the fast little stream and the jungle that grew thick from the hill. Nautaung pointed and Con saw the mountain and then the plane turned and they saw the valley where the Irriwaddy flowed peacefully, and Bahmo where so many had died. Fifteen minutes later they landed there. Immediately they boarded the DC flying directly to Calcutta. The next day they were back in Colombo.
CHAPTER XLVII
Con took Nautaung with him out to Carla’s cottage. She fell in love with the old man at once. The next day, leaving Nautaung behind, Con flew to Kandy to make Nautaung’s position on his staff official. Gus was impressed with Con’s story of the old man and agreed that with his background and lingual ability that he would be an asset to the command. He authorized Nautaung and requested that the next trip to Kandy that the old man be brought along and introduced. Then Con said he was ready to go to work, he was fit.
Gus said he would take him down to Colombo and show him his headquarters. They left on the afternoon plane and drove immediately by limousine to a large estate out past Carla’s cottage on the road to Galle. It was a huge square Colonial house of fifteen rooms with a fine lawn and a high iron fence. A sentry guarded the gate. It was staffed with British Intelligence officers, secretaries, a powerful radio set-up and direct teletype with Gus’s office in Kandy. In Con’s air-conditioned office was a huge map with pins stuck in the map, and streamers on the pins. The streamers read: Betty, Sue, Marge, Blondie, Sexy, Not-so-sexy. They were the code names of the various agent groups now functioning in and around Rangoon. Then Gus introduced Con to Leftenant-Colonel Mark Brooke-Smythe who was to be his executive officer and right hand. He was an extremely fair and handsome young Englishman with a very sensitive poetic face, and melancholy blue eyes. Con liked him at once and felt that they would get along.
Then Gus asked Con to drive him back to the airport.
“You can do as you like,” Gus said as they pulled up to the field. “Live at the house or at the hotel or stay where you are. Mark’s a good man, Con, long on guts but short on ability to command. He was Danny’s closest friend before you came out here. You should make a good team. This limousine is yours twentyfour hours a day. Good luck, old boy.” And Gus extended one sweaty fat hand and got out of the car and walked toward the waiting DC-3, brief case and white panama in one hand, wiping his brow with the other.
Con returned to the cottage a little after five. Carla had come home from the office early and he found her having a drink with Nautaung on the porch, carrying on a conversation in fluent French. They continued to speak in French as he stood in the doorway, tossing their heads
toward him and gesturing as if speaking about him. Con grinned and went over and kissed Carla, then turned to Nautaung.
“Where the hell did you learn to speak French?”
“In France,” the old man grinned. “In the first war. I took two holidays in Paris and went to school. In two months I learned the irregular verbs. Once you know the irregular verbs it is very simple, Dua. I will teach you.”
“I’m afraid we won’t have time, Nautaung. We go to work tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Nautaung said. “Ahyeee. I was about to be lazy.”
Con was still looking at Nautaung but knew she was now looking at him and finally shifted his eyes toward her. She was wearing a simple white cotton dress, strapless and tight in the hips, her long loose legs crossed under the full skirt.
“I’m going back on duty that is,” he said to her.
“What will you do, Con?” she asked softly. Almost resignedly, he thought.
“Staff work mostly,” he said. “My office is near here.” He walked to the portable bar and began to mix himself a drink.
“Just staff work?” she asked.
“Mostly.”
“Your wounds have hardly healed. Don’t you think you ought to have a little more time to get well?”
“I feel good. I’ve never felt better,” he said. He smiled at her. “Anyhow, this is the army, Mrs. Jones. It’s hardly up to me when I go back on duty.”
“Will you do supply or something like that? Isn’t that what they give you to do when you’re recuperating?”
“Something like that,” he said stirring the drink. “I really can’t say. I know it sounds silly, Carla, but I can’t. I’ll be working with the British and Nautaung. Something like liaison.”
“Then you’ll have eight hour days and Saturday and Sunday off like the other Americans,” she said.
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