((Lt Kerr is at the house of Kwok Lon, “Number One”, leader of the guerrillas...))
The next day I felt much better except that my leg had acquired a few more colors and degrees of swelling. As I began stirring around, a hand holding aloft a cup of steaming tea appeared over the edge of my balcony closely followed by the cheerful Francis. He sat on the edge of the pallet while I sipped the drink and came out with the interesting news that I’d be on my way again that night.
((Lt Kerr asked Francis what he knows about Americans)) “Sure, sure, I know Americans. All ride, all have trains, automobiles, speedy boats. A wonderful place, U.S., everyone now lives in big, ah, skyscratcher. I went always to the U.S. cinema in Hong Kong city, before Japanese come”
…Number One was downstairs at a table covered with little unfolded notes…I was called upon to explain the Air Force and what I did and who I was and how I came to be in China and how I landed in Kowloon. I made some little drawings of my adventures which were passed from hand to hand and apparently enjoyed because Kwok Lon, Number One, asked to keep them and also if I would draw the assembled group as it sat there.
… All during and after our lunch Little Chen ((probably the same person as "Young Chen" mentioned on a previous day)) had been bringing in little folded notes and giving them to Number One, who would read them and sometimes write off a short reply. While I had been drawing the picture the group had a consultation over one particular note and at the next opportunity Francis told me that the arrangements for me to leave had been finished.
“But did you tell the Commander I’m not walking so well today, Francis?”
“Yes, and now that too has been fixed by our Commander. You have seen all these messages that Chen brings? They are from many points where our soldiers watch the Japanese, and they are some brought from Commanders of other guerrilla corps. Many soldiers will be here to guard you along the way, everything is to being taken care.”
I slept again in the afternoon, and when I awoke again it was to the clatter of a machine gun outside the window! I was half off the bed and in a tangle of blankets when Francis hurried up the ladder to tell me “Never mind, never mind!”
“What’s the matter!?”
“Our soldiers, some have brought a newly captured machine gun and they are demonstrating it. The Commander sent me here to tell you but I did not enough hurry. Soon, too, there will be grenade bomb demonstration, you will not worry.”
“Oh. Don’t the Japanese ever hear you and wonder what’s up?”
“The Japanese? We know where they all are, none too near. They know altogether of us – but they can never catch. If they come, little band, we fight; big band, we go into the deep mountains.”
In the late afternoon I was called by Little Chen to come down. Once down the ladder (with his help) he led me to the door and opened it for me to look out. Golly! All the guerrillas in the world seemed to be outside. They were scattered around on the stone court and nearby slope, all with some sort of gun or machine gun and well festooned with pistols, grenades and blanket rolls. Must have been several hundred all told and all looked like handy fellows to have around.
In the early evening, while it was still light, we prepared to leave. My few effects were rounded up and I hobbled around to the back of the house to a chair…a dining room chair securely bound between two lengths of bamboo. A pair of thin Chinese men stood near, and when I approached the conveyance they took up stations, one at each end, and when I was seated they raised the assembly, with many lurchings and gruntings, to their bowed shoulders. I felt a little foolish, up on that insecure and ungainly platform and in the undemocratic state of using fellow men for beasts of burden, but regardless, I was transported to the front of the building. As we rounded the corner I heard a military command and lo! – there were all the guerrillas neatly drawn up in ranks at attention!
The chair bearers stood holding me, a very conspicuous and ill at ease me, while Number One made an introduction and speech to the men. At its close, they all clapped their hands loud and long, and there was Francis at my elbow, asking me to make a speech. I told them all how grateful I was for their help, how I hoped the Japanese would soon be driven out, and all that. Francis translated at great length, I suspect with his own additions, and there was more clapping.
Number One had them go through a Manual of Arms which was most dexterously done even though no two rifles seemed to be the same nationality, and then about a third of the group were marched off. We followed soon after with another third, and I assumed the remainder would be along next as a rear guard. At first, the going wasn’t too bad, the path being good and the terrain level.
As we turned to go up the mountain I could see back to the cluster of houses where we had stayed and there were all the women and children and old men out waving their hands and shouting. Made me feel very proud and humble that all these people would help me at such risk to themselves. And that these people, who had had so little and had lost most of that were willing to freely share the remainder with a friend. Amazing and wonderful people, those Chinese.
((This journal was copyrighted in 2009. The extracts are being made available to David Bellis for publication on Gwulo: Old Hong Kong (http://gwulo.com) only. Please do not republish without permission. A Chinese/English publication of the journal is being prepared and a film is being considered. Contact David Kerr (davykerr@gmail.com) for further information.))