[Excerpts]

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In June of 1944 word was smuggled into camp of a detachment of 60,000 Chinese troops, led by a Commander Wang, deployed in the vicinity of Weihsien. Rumor had it that Wang was actually planning to storm the camp and liberate us.

This intelligence inspired two of our bolder internees to attempt an escape from camp, in order to make contact with the commander and his troops. The wisdom of this risky venture was, before and after, much debated.

With steady Allied advances, the war was clearly coming to an end. What then was to be gained by an escape? And should the plan succeed, our captors would doubtless vent their wrath and frustration upon the rest of us.

Yet, a successful escape would be a tremendous morale booster, and once free, our men could contact the Allies, furnishing them with valuable information and perhaps even procure desperately needed medical supplies for us.

The two conspirators, with the blessing of the camp Discipline Committee, carefully crafted their escape plan. To pass, undetected, through the countryside they would need to look as much like Chinese as possible. To accomplish this they sunned themselves daily until well darkened.

They would dress in dark-coloured, Chinese, pajama-type outfits, especially tailored to fit their large, European dimensions. The two men who volunteered for the deed were Charles Tipton and Art Hummel.

Tipton was an Englishman, who formerly worked for the British and American Tobacco Company. Hummel had been in graduate studies in Yen Ching University, Peking. He later served as U.S. Ambassador to China.

Both men spoke Chinese fluently.

The escape plot was hatched with a great deal of care. The date chosen for the attempt was June 9; the time, between 9 and 10 p.m. That night the moon would not rise until 10:40. Once over the wall the escapees would have a full hour of darkness.

It had been observed that every night at nine o’clock there was a changing of the guard. The oncoming shift, customarily, would quickly patrol the perimeter of the camp and then retire for a ten-minute break for “ocha” (tea) and cigarettes before taking their positions in the six sentry towers.

The venue for the escape would be a spot along the western wall where the shadow of an adjacent sentry box kept it in darkness. Also, due to a slight jog in the wall, this strategic few yards were never illuminated by the rotating search lights.

To ensure secrecy, only three persons in camp knew the actual time of the intended escape. One of these was Roy Tchoo, an American-Chinese, who would serve as a lookout. Another was Tommy Wade, who had done a thriving business in black-market goods. A tall, broad-shouldered fellow, Tommy had the tricky assignment of boosting the men over the electrified barbed wire atop the wall. A Catholic priest also helped as a lookout along the west wall. As it happened, on the appointed night, we had a front-row seat for the drama.

June 9 was muggy and hot. Sandra was already in bed and the two of us were seated in the tiny patch of a yard in front of our room.

A little after nine o’clock Art Hummel came by, barely recognizable with his darkened face and wearing the Chinese pajamas. A few moments later Wade followed carrying a high stool. Tipton, who came from a different direction, met the two men at the western wall beside the sentry tower.

While Roy kept an eye open for approaching guards, the two men in turn mounted the stool and from there, positioned themselves atop Wade’s broad shoulders, to be gingerly hoisted over the barbed wire. This was delicate business. Hummel, now nervous, shoved off with such alacrity that Wade came within inches of toppling into the highly charged wire.

Once over the wall, the men concealed themselves behind the tomb mounds in the adjacent cemetery, expecting at any moment to hear the alarm siren. But everything had gone without a hitch.

Under cover of darkness, for the moon had not yet appeared, Tipton and Hummel made their way to a rendezvous point at a nearby village. There, according to plan, they found some 20 armed Chinese soldiers waiting to escort them the 10 li (about 6 miles) to another juncture where horses were waiting for them.

Once mounted, they continued their flight another 40 li until they arrived at Commander Wang’s headquarters. Here, guides were furnished to take them through enemy lines into free China.

Once established there, they arranged for a courier to take a message, which had been sewn into the sole of his cloth shoe, to Chungking where Chiang Kai-shek and the Nationalist government was headquartered. The note advised the general of their location and requested that a shortwave radio be dropped to them.

Incredibly, two full days passed without the Japanese discovering Tipton and Hummel’s absence.

At this point, our committee decided that it would go easier on the rest of us if the wardens voluntarily reported that the men had escaped. Accordingly, the Discipline Committee informed the Japanese commandant. Predictably, when the report of our friends’ disappearance reached the commandant’s ears, it precipitated no small furor.

Guards with police dogs were dispatched to scour the surrounding countryside, but to no avail.

The escapees’ nine roommates were shut up in the compound church and interrogated nonstop for several days. In time, however, the authorities became convinced that the men did, in fact, know very little about either the escape plans or their colleagues’ present whereabouts, and therefore released them.

Most vexing, the commandant now required the tedious roll calls twice a day at 8 a.m. and 5 p.m., each session taking a full hour. Beyond this, however, there were no other reprisals; nor did our captors resort to violence or torture, as some had feared.

[further reading]
http://www.weihsien-paintings.org/GordonHelsby/Helsby(WEB).pdf

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