February 1945

CHAPTER III

RELIEF OF WEIHSIEN CAMP

SEVERAL days passed and there was no further news of the promised ammunition but we continued to display the signal. Late one evening, as we were sitting out in the orchard adjoining our quarters, drinking Japanese beer and discussing, as usual, local politics, we received a pencilled note from the Chief of the Munitions and Supply Department to tell us that he had just heard over the Chungking radio the news that the Japanese were suing for peace.

Everyone took this news very quietly. It was as if it had been a foregone conclusion: an outstanding favourite winning a race — there was no spontaneous demonstration. Perhaps sheer exhaustion after eight years of resistance had dulled their powers of realisation. But to us it meant the end of this decade of Japanese tyranny over Asia; freedom for the thousands of internees; return to our homes and families. To the Chinese it was but a phase; the turning of a page in China's history. For them the struggle would continue, but now against their own flesh and blood, the Communists; internecine war that would destroy the few remaining foundations of national statehood, leaving but a pile of rubble at the feet of the western powers.

Fortunately our camp messenger was with us at the time we received this news and we sent him back immediately with a letter giving the latest radio report. Two or three days passed without confirmation of this announcement. It was in fact denied, but, nevertheless, it was evident that some-thing was in the air.

Wang Shang-chih had been in touch with the Japanese garrison at Tsoshan. They admitted that instructions had been issued to withdraw all Japanese forces from interior garrison points to the railway zone.

We pressed Wang Shang-chih to prepare sufficient troops to proceed to the camp at a moment's notice. He agreed, but nothing was done. The situation was difficult; he had few troops. If the Japanese did surrender, he would have to take over the garrison at Tsoshan and could hardly spare the men. In reply to our enquiry, the camp sent word that all was quiet. They had heard no rumours of substance that would indicate the end of the war, but upon receipt of our message the necessary precautions had been taken and their underground police force had been warned. We discussed the matter with Chih-yi, who was fully aware of the Fifteenth's obligation to go to the assistance of the camp, and he agreed that if Wang Shang-chih failed to take any action, we could depend upon him.

On 14th August the radio officially announced that the Japanese were surrendering. Wang Shang-chih was still hesitant to send troops to Weihsien, and together with Chih-yi we made a last appeal to him. He agreed that preparations should be made, but again there was some delay. Fortunately, however, a letter arrived from the camp at the crucial moment from de Jaegher and Roy Tchou: "McLaren instructs us to inform you that seven U.S. paratroopers dropped outside the camp and succeeded in entering without opposition. They are here purely on a humanitarian mission and have not taken over control of the camp. They are in touch with their Headquarters in Chungking. The situation within the camp is that the Japanese guards will continue to man the walls, reinforced by the internees' own police force, and the authority within the camp has been turned over to the Committee. The Japanese remain responsible for the protection of the camp. The gate is in our hands. Several groups of supposedly Chungking forces have tried to contact us with offers of protection, which have been refused. McLaren says you should come as soon as possible with your unit, which should take up their position around the camp perimeter to protect us. It will be advisable to first send in one or two plain-clothes men to advise us, otherwise there might be bloodshed. We have sufficient food for a few days. No statement will be made to other units pending your arrival."

We translated this letter to Wang Shang-chih and he agreed that Chih-yi and his regiment should accompany us. It was almost midnight before we set out with seven hundred of Chih-yi's picked men. Dawn found us about twenty miles from Weihsien, wending our way over the low hills towards the Weihsien plain. It was a perfect morning, and as the rose and yellow light of dawn spread, I looked back over the hills on our column, more than a mile in length, twisting and turning as the men followed in single file the tortuous foot-path, like the body of a giant writhing snake.

An hour before noon we encamped at the village where the camp messenger lived. He had returned with us and proudly led us to his home, where he prepared tea. For him it was a great day. Now the villagers would know of the important part he played in helping the British and Americans. No longer would he be branded as a running-dog of the Japanese. Leaving the regiment at the village, Chih-yi and the messenger accompanied us the remaining mile to camp.

Nearing the camp, we noticed that during our absence the Japanese had dug an enormous trench some ten feet deep and about five feet wide, and on the further side from the camp wall high electrified barbed-wire entanglements had been erected. This had apparently been done soon after our escape. Our own get-away had been hazardous enough, but under present conditions it would have been almost impossible. We had to make a long detour around these new defence works — which obviously were put up with a view not only to prevent further escapes but also to ward off any attack on the camp before entering the road leading to the front gate. This road had now been blocked by barbed wire at the entrance to the "Courtyard of the Happy Way". We dismounted and left our horses to the care of the orderly who had accompanied us.

We were met by a member of the internees' police force who came forward with the undoubted intention of refusing entry to this party of Chinese soldiers, and it was not until we were at close quarters that we were recognised. In a few moments de Jaegher and Roy Tchou appeared and we had barely exchanged greetings before we were mobbed by a group of friends. McLaren rescued us from our friends and escorted us to the paratroopers' Headquarters, which was situated in what was formerly the Japanese Camp Commandant's office.

Here we were introduced to the Commanding Officer, Major Staiger, and his fellow paratroopers. He was young — probably about thirty ― with an air of efficiency, but was not without also a touch of the melodramatic, which, in the circumstances, was perfectly excusable. Having dropped into a concentration camp bristling with well-armed Japanese guards, and fully expecting opposition, he seemed somewhat amazed to find that he had become king of the castle with such ease. Since his arrival he had been overwhelmed with offers of assistance and professions of loyalty from the puppet leaders throughout the district. He was rather relieved when we appeared, and spent the next few hours in questioning us. Chih-yi seemed to impress him, but he decided that for the time being he would continue under his original declaration, that the camp must be considered a neutral area and that it would not be advisable for our troops actually to participate in guarding it, but he requested Chih-yi to hold his troops in readiness at a distance of a couple of miles in the event of an emergency.

We learned that the first news of the Japanese surrender sent in by us on the 10th of August had been kept a secret by the Committee. A feeler had been put out to the Japanese, who had denied any such possibility, but gradually the rumour spread, although it was not until the morning of 17th August, when an American B–24 zoomed over the camp at a low altitude, that the internees realised that perhaps it was not just another camp rumour. When the plane re-turned and dropped the paratroopers, there was little doubt left in anyone's mind. There followed a mad rush for the gates.

The paratroopers, dropping into a field of kaoliang ten feet high, disappeared from sight. By the time the internees had made their way to the patch, a few rather startled figures, with pistols drawn, were stealthily making their way out of the thick crop. As each appeared, he was embraced by a mob of hysterical women, rather spoiling the dramatic effect, and was led into the camp. The Japanese, up against a situation for which they were not prepared, made no attempt to resist.

The situation that had arisen in the camp owing to the arrival of the paratroopers was an extraordinary one. The Americans proclaimed that they were there on a purely humanitarian mission and had no military significance whatsoever, and although taking the lead, they still held the Japanese responsible for the safeguarding of the camp. Consequently the Japanese continued to retain their arms, and, to some degree, their arrogance.

It was not long before they demanded that the position of Arthur and myself be clarified — either we must leave the camp with our Chinese guerrilla friends or be classed as internees. Staiger immediately agreed that we should now be considered as internees and as such we were not allowed to leave the camp.

Retaining the Japanese in the camp was by no means a popular move and there was considerable agitation to have them sent to join their garrison at Fangtze. The Japanese remaining complicated the situation and were an added incentive for the Communists to attack the camp. However, with the taking over of the Japanese airfield at Ershihlipu, some five miles from the camp, additional American personnel arrived from West China to augment the paratroopers, and gradually the Japanese guards faded out of the picture.

It was strange to us to be amongst our own people again, to hear our own language spoken. At first there was the inclination to address friends in Chinese or to translate their conversation into Chinese in one's mind. The amenities of the camp, poor as they were, to us appeared the very height of luxury. It was only now that we began to realise how immune we had become to the recognised essential comforts of life a comfortable bed, clean linen, sanitation, a change of clothing, personal possessions things taken for granted and with which we had lost all contact. Time and again we had lost everything but the clothes we wore, until we now had no desire or need for the accumulation of personal effects. This disregard for the personal possessions with which most people clutter their lives was, perhaps, the greatest lesson learned. Even though this phase would pass, it was a wholesome and rather cleansing experience.

We could not help but notice the effects of the past year and a half on some of our friends, particularly in their clothing, which was naturally, after two and a half years of internment, threadbare and shabby. Many of the internees looked a good deal older and thoroughly tired. The children, although tanned a healthy brown, were for the most part thin and bare-footed.

The chief topics of conversation still revolved around food and the shortcomings of the Committee. Over the course of these years matters of the most trivial importance were magnified out of all proportion; personal affairs had be come not only the concern of one's neighbours but of the whole camp. Confined to this complete world of their own for two and a half years, the majority of these people had become obsessed to an unbelievable degree with the petty affairs of the camp and their personal lives.

We were not apparently the only ones to realise this, for within a week the Americans had inaugurated an intensive course of "reorientation" calculated to bring the mental status of the ex-internees to a state of preparedness for their return to the world of 1945. Loud-speakers were connected up throughout the length and breadth of the camp; there was much preparation and then suddenly one morning at six o'clock the full blast of American high-pressure "reorientation" rent the air in the guise of Frank Sinatra singing "Oh! What a beautiful morning, Oh! What a beautiful day." Doors and windows were flung open and masses of bewildered ex-internees in various stages of nudity looked out on this new post-war world to which they had had such a rude awakening. A stream of derogatory remarks floated up and down the alley-ways. Someone cut a wire then silence. The doors closed on these staid and unappreciative Britishers, who crawled back to bed. There was much indignation on both sides — a compromise was reached and future "reorientation" was not commenced until 7 A.M., from which hour it continued at a fast and furious pace throughout the day under the able "Director of Reorientation", who had a special office to himself, from which he conducted music, lectures, organised games for adults and children, and kept an eye on the reading-room. In the end the Americans, by sheer perseverance and charm, won the day. The ex-internees were "reorientated" to everyone's satisfaction and learned thoroughly to enjoy the process!

With the collapse of the Japanese, the food situation became serious for a few days. Supplies of hare necessities were sufficient only for two to three days at the time of the Japanese surrender. The Weihsien puppet Commander, quick to see an opportunity of getting " out of the red " politically, needed little persuasion to send food, and Wang Shang-chih, although he could ill afford it, sent a letter by us with a promise of ten thousand pounds of wheat, but in spite of these efforts there was still insufficient to meet requirements. Staiger radioed his Headquarters for assistance and within a couple of days a B–24 flew over the camp to drop sheaves of handbills worded to the effect that supplies were on the way. Within half an hour we heard the ponderous drone of heavily laden planes. Ten B–29s circled overhead and, as their bellies opened, tons of supplies were dropped, filling the sky with yellow, green, red, blue and white parachutes.

Some failed to open and steel drums hurtled through the air and, bursting on contact with the earth, sent up cascades of Californian peaches and cream, tomato soup, corned beef hash, cigarettes, candy and chewing-gum. At least 30 per cent of the first drop was wasted. This continued on and off for several days, until the church, resembling a warehouse, was stacked high with clothes, boots, food, smokes, medical supplies and books — everything that the Stores Officer on Okinawa (from where the planes had come) thought might conceivably be needed.

To cope with the demand for fresh fruit, vegetables and eggs, an open-air market was soon established outside the front gate by the river, where dozens of stalls were set up. People were still short of money, however, and most of the business was carried on by barter. Old clothes that were hardly fit to wear, boots and shoes with gaping holes, women's hats, were all exchanged for eggs, milk, or maybe a fried chicken or a bottle of the local brandy. Never had there been such eating a craving of two and a half years' standing was satiated there were casualties, but all admitted that it was worth it!

After the first excitement had worn off, and people were nauseated by the sight of food, the ex-internees began to talk of the return to their homes. Many of them failed to appreciate the true situation. The homes of the majority had been occupied by a succession of Japanese. What furniture and household belongings they had left behind on coming to the camp, had long since been sold by the Japanese occupants and replaced by cheap new furniture purchased and re-sold with each incoming tenant. Sanitary, steam heating and plumbing installations had been torn out and sold, or contributed to the Japanese war effort, and the majority of the houses were but empty shells. Before any move of the ex-internees could be considered, accommodation had first to be prepared in Peking, Tientsin and Tsingtao.

In the meantime, the political situation was deteriorating rapidly. The vanquished were now defending the victors --- the Japanese, on surrender, had been instructed by the Chinese Government to co-operate with them in the protection of the railways throughout North China from attacks by the Communists. Former puppet forces were now enlisted also to co-operate against the Communists, AN-ho were making increasingly frequent attacks on the railway, cutting communications for days on end and completely isolating the camp.

The American authorities planned to evacuate the camp by railway to Tientsin and Tsingtao, but it was not long before it was realised that the rail trip to Tientsin was quite out of the question. Plans were then made to evacuate the whole camp by rail to Tsingtao, but the Japanese did little to protect the railway and each day brought news of further Communist activities : bridges were blown up and miles of rail were removed. Repairs were carried out, and after days of delay perhaps one train would manage to make the trip from Tsingtao to Weihsien before there were further demolitions.

The -weeks were passing, the ex-internees were getting restive and demands were made that steps be taken to find some means of evacuating the camp. The American officials were at a loss for a solution of the problem, and little progress was being made, when they agreed to the suggestion proposed some weeks earlier, that a deputation be sent to the local Communist Headquarters with the request that they should hold up any further demolition of the railway until the camp had been evacuated. Roy- Tchou had connections and he and Arthur set off on a secret mission in an effort to open negotiations which would halt the interruption of communications. The first contact was promising and was followed up by the American Commanding Officer. A truce was agreed upon and repairs were completed; baggage was dispatched on the trial train and was followed the next day by some six hundred of the et-internees for Tsingtao.

The following night the track was again blown up and a large bridge demolished. More days of delay followed and it was during this period that I was fortunate enough to obtain a seat in a military plane leaving for Peking. As the plane circled over the camp and then headed north, I took my last look at the camp and congratulated myself on the fact that it «as I who had managed to get a seat rather than one of the less fortunate eight hundred whom I was leaving behind.

Some two weeks later, almost two months after the Japanese surrender, all hope of getting away the remainder of the et-internees by train was given up and they were flown out by relays of C—54s to Peking and Tientsin, .-here they were crowded into hotels and the few remaining houses that were habitable.

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