After some time all were ready but, pitch dark under the trees the extraneous people, less the two aborigines, wandered away so got lost. The already tired soldiers were growing frustrated having to search for those missing. Jason decided to cut his losses and only move off in the light, if only to ensure all his ‘foreigners’ were with him.
At day break off they went. Not having recced the ground from the jungle edge to the pick-up point, he did not go to the place the guerrillas had left the jungle. The leading scout, therefore, could see no tracks. After several hours of very, very slow, stop and start movement the guide told Jason that he had no idea where he was. Hoping to be fighting a battle by 8 o’clock, it was cold comfort to finding an empty camp at half past one. After patrolling for a further four hours, Jason’s report on the radio was, sadly, negative.[2]
Down in Battalion HQ, the CO, impatient at hearing no news all day, roundly and unfairly castigated Jason personally for the delay and not killing any enemy. ‘It can only be because of your lack of drive and leadership,’ he fumed during his long radio call. There was no point in any other answer except ‘Roger, out.’
It was evening by the time the Company cooked a meal and the soldiers were very tired and hungry. The photographer was nearly out on his feet having had to be pulled up the steeper inclines, his pack being carried for him, neither were the rest of the followers-on in any fit state for further movement. Even the dog had had enough. They were sent back the next day, as thankful to go as were the Gurkhas to be rid of them.
After five days of more fruitless patrolling they returned to their base.
Same time, various places: Plans for a possible amnesty were being thought out in various places. In London, the problem with UK still being in debt as a result of the war would be eased by giving Malaya self-government with a lessening of British support. Politically it would remove the main political plank of the MCP that Malaya was a British colony. The main Malay political party won a landslide victory and asked for an amnesty as early as January 1955, hoping a ceasefire and reversion to a ‘normal’ situation would follow. In south Thailand, the MCP, with their radio contact with the Chinese Communists in Beijing, were advised to request, nay demand, being accepted as a legitimate political party or go on fighting. In Singapore, still of vestigial interest to the MCP rather than a moribund Singapore Communist party, intense interest and suspicion, and a need to show solidarity were behind its Chief Minister being invited by the Prime Minister of Malaya to attend any peace talks in the event of any occurring.
The current situation could not be maintained indefinitely by either the MCP or the legitimate governments. It had to change, but how and when?
3 March 1955, Kuala Lumpur: Mr C C Too was re-reading one of his files, the one that contained the capture of Ah Chong. He had only suffered flesh wounds and had said that he was glad to be a civilian once more but he thought Moby still had him under wraps. I wonder if he could be my answer to my getting into contact with Ah Fat again. Can either I or Moby persuade him to go back to Ha La once more? He picked up his phone and rang Moby. ‘Moby, I’m told that in wartime Britain there were notices near telephones that read “Walls have ears”. I’d like to have a short change of scenery and come and pay you a visit.’
‘Welcome any time, sir, as you very well know. You probably don’t want me to be empty-handed: anything on my menu that you’d like to sample?’
‘Yes, a Bekok sandwich.’
‘You must be feeling hungry. That will be no problem. When can I expect you?’
‘How about the day after tomorrow? I’ll motor down as the roads are safe enough these days. I’ll start early and arrive around mid-morning.’
‘And your sandwich?’
‘I’m always hungry,’ and C C Too rang off with a giggle.
I wonderwhat the old fox is onto now. Soon find out. He called one of his helpers. ‘Go and see Ah Chong. Ask him if he’d like a walk with you. Get him moving and watch his legs.’
‘Watch his legs?’ asked his helper, slightly bewildered. Who will ever understand officers?
‘Yes. You know he was wounded. See if he limps or drags his injured his leg or makes any comment.’
‘Okay sir,’ and the man went out.
When he returned he said ‘all he said was how pleasant it was to walk when it didn’t hurt and he was lucky that that kind gwai lo bandaged him up so quickly.’
5 March 1955, Seremban: ‘Moby, I’ll come clean with you …’
‘For once,’ said with a grin.
‘As I was saying, I’ll come clean with you. I have, as indeed we both have certain contacts, how shall I put it? “up our sleeve” as the conjurer says. You have Ah Chong and I want to use him. How is he?’
‘Cured of his wounds, I am glad to say. I had him taken for a walk after you rang and his minder said that Ah Chong had said that the kind gwai lo had bandaged him up so quickly, there were now no ill effects.’
‘Good. I want him to go to Ha La, in south Thailand.’ Moby lifted an eyebrow in surprise. ‘It was from Ha La you will remember that he got those copies of the new newspaper Red Tidings, whose editor is our common friend Ah Fat.’
‘So I am guessing you want to use As Chong as your contact man. Correct?’
‘Correct. If I was your school master I’d allow you to give out the new pencils with the green rubber at the end,’ and both laughed. ‘Please send for him.’
Ah Chong came in. Moby introduced C C Too under a pseudonym and said that ‘Mr Chen’ had a question for him. ‘Nothing at all to worry about.’
‘Ah Chong. Soon you will be a civilian. If you do not have a family, you will want to get married, buy a house and start a trade to earn some money. Am I right?’
Sinsaang Chen was right.
‘And have you worked out how much that will all come to?’
No he had not.
‘Then, with this piece of paper and this pencil, work it out and tell me.’
Ah Chong, scowling with concentration, set to work. ‘Fifty thousand ringgit to start with. If any is left over, I’ll bank it.’
‘And how do you propose to get it. How long do you think it will take you to earn it?’
Ah Chong had not thought of that.
‘Would you like it next month? All of it?’
‘Oh yes, I would,’ was the answer, eyes a-gleam and a smile.
‘You will have it if you first do something for me.’
The smile faded.
‘I want you to go back to Ha La.’ He saw Ah Chong stiffen. ‘Wait, wait. I will arrange for you to be helicoptered in a day’s walk south of the border. You will go to Ha La and give a letter to a friend of mine, the editor of Red Tidings. He will then ask the Politburo for permission to go to Kuala Lumpur and I will arrange for you to go with him. Once that is done successfully, you will get the money.’
‘Yes, I agree if I can have someone to go with me as far as Ha La.’
Hm, that’s a thorny one. ‘I think that the best way is to take some extra tobacco and cloth with you and give it to a couple of t’o yan. From what I know, they’ll help you.’
It was only after the reward was raised to sixty thousand ringgit that the deal was clinched.
12 March 1955, Ha La, south Thailand: Ah Fat had been churning out his editions of Red Tidings as best he could when he was surprised by Ah Chong’s arrival, with, unusually, an escort of two t’o yan. He saw Ah Chong take a bundle of tobacco and some cloth out of his knapsack and give it to his escorts who snatched it out of his hand and bolted away.
I’ll be told all about it in its own good time.
‘Ah Fat sinsaang,’ – no ‘Comrade!’ – ‘I have a letter for you,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Shall I give it to you here and now or after our’ – our! – ‘evening meal?’
‘Hand it over now, if you will. We’ll talk about whatever is in it after we’ve eaten,’ Ah Fat answered pleasantly.
Ah Chong gave him the letter and said he presumed the accommodation would be as before. Yes, it would. Ah Fat called his Bear over to him and, with a slight wink, told him to look after the new arrival.
Opening the envelope he saw it was from C C Too. So he’s using Ah Chong as a postman. That is clever. How much did it cost him, I wonder? The letter asked him to come to Kuala Lumpur as ‘I really want to meet you. No details now but bring some copies of your Red Tidings. I will leave it with you how you fix it with your boss.’
After their meal Ah Fat and Ah Chong, with the Bear listening in – ‘his ears are my ears’ – Ah Chong told his story, included being bandaged by a gwai lo who spoke Chinese. At the end he said, ‘now you can tell me how you can get me back to Seremban so I can start my new life.’
