‘May I suggest I start with ten days’ rations and dump them so there’ll only be a need for one fresh rations re-supply? I’ll take a central point and patrol north for the first five days and the south for the last part.’
‘The Malay Colonel bit his lip in thought. ‘Yes, I’ll go along with that. Plan something and let me know. But no, I repeat no crossing the border.’
‘I fully understand, sir’ Jason said and, having saluted his senior, went back to his lines. There he studied his map and saw a hilly area, Bukit Bunga, Flower Hill, near the border. It seemed the obvious place to use as a base for movement north and south. There was a road near it for easy re-supply. Leaving a small rear party back in camp, transport took the rest of his company as far as the village of Rantau Panjang, a stone’s throw from the Thai border, and on down to as near Bukit Bunga as vehicles could get. They debussed, sent the vehicles back and moved west into the jungle, seeing the boundary markers from time to time. They set up a patrol base and for the first two days platoons patrolled in both directions.
On Day three, Jason had this report: ‘As we lay in ambush we saw a herd of bison, Saheb, porcupine and wild boar. We looked down a glade into Thai territory and saw a trap big enough for boar.’
‘And yet no human tracks?’ Jason asked.
‘Not on this side, Saheb.’
Jason sat still, contemplating this. He had been briefed that there were Malays on both sides of the border but everyone knew that they never ate pork meat. He turned to the man who had mentioned the trap. ‘Are you sure that the trap could not be for porcupines?’
The man looked perplexed then grinned. ‘No Saheb, not sure, but to make sure why don’t we ambush it to find out?’
‘We have three days before we need go back to the road to collect our fresh rations and only a carrying party need go for them so yes, let’s do that.’ They got ready to move and the patrol leader who had seen the trap led the way and, on the morrow about noon, two men were seen approaching it. Jason, who was a few yards in the rear, was called forward. He saw the men, took his binoculars out of their case and closely studied them. Surely not! Look like Gurkhas but can’t be so, or can it?
‘Ustad,’ he said to the NCO next to him. ‘Look through these and tell me what you think.’
The NCO studied the two men, drew in his breath sharply and said, ‘Saheb, can’t be but they look like us.’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought. Tell you what, let’s go and talk to them. It’s a gamble and we’ve been told not to go over the border but if we’re careful, it can’t matter. Ustad, you and two others follow me. The rest cover us and only fire if we seem in danger of being fired on.’
The three men stepped over the border which they recognised by one of the intermittent boundary stones, moved to within fifty yards of the two men and Jason said, ‘Ustad, we must not frighten them. They still can’t see us. Tell you what, sing a song, loudly, so they’ll hear it. Sing the one we sang as we left our depots in India when we went on draft to the war’ and he softly sang the chorus:
‘The leaves of the trees are green at the top,
We’re on our way, on our way to the war.’
‘Yes, I know it’ and as loudly as possible he sang it.
The effect was one of unbelievable shock to the two men. They stared, open-mouthed, in the direction of the song, turned to one another with grins almost from ear to ear and joined in. The song came to the end of the verse and Jason, moving forward, called to them in Nepali. ‘Oho, Old Men, we have come to talk to you. Stay where you are. I am a British saheb and we are a Gurkha patrol so no harm can come to you.’
They moved up to the two men who, as they neared, stared dumbfounded, as though hardly able to believe it was not a dream. Both of them had wrinkled faces, with induced, furtive expressions, cross-hatched and fine wrinkles in the corners of their eye sockets, gnarled hands and threadbare clothes. They were older than their years and had the furtive air of one worried lest he be accused of trespassing.
The elder said, jerkingly, as if not sure he was really awake, ‘Saheb, have you come to fetch us?’
‘We have come to look for you,’ Jason said with a pang of pity – pity, which is more promiscuous than lust. ‘We can take you back to Malaya then send you back to Nepal if you so wish. What battalion were you with?’
‘2/2 GR. We were together. Our company commander was Captain Williams.’
‘It is he, now our Commanding saheb, who sent us to try and find you.’
The two men, still recovering from the shock, merely shook their heads in wonder at what Fate had decreed so suddenly and unexpectedly.
Jason said, ‘When did you last eat?’
‘Yesterday. We are hungry but nothing has come into our trap.’
‘Come back with us. We are quite close. We’ll cook you a meal and give you a drink of rum and you can tell us all about it.’
They were unsure if that was wise.
‘If you can’t trust a British saheb, who can you?’ asked the NCO rhetorically. ‘Come, we promise you there is no trap. Why should there be?’
They moved back to their night stop and cooked a meal for the two men. While it was cooking a brew of tea was prepared and the smile of delight on both faces was a wonder to see. ‘Tea, like this?’ one of them said and, on his fingers, started counting the years. ‘Ten years,’ and a tear of joy rolled down his cheek.
After their meal and a swig of rum, Jason asked them their story. Yes, they had tried to escape from the Japanese and, as there was no hope of returning, had settled in a Malay village on the Thai side of the border, married and raised a family. The elder looking said, ‘We each have a wife and family. The girls’ parents only allowed that if we …’ and he became embarrassed as he was ashamed to say ‘circumcised’ according to Malay rites.
‘Would you like to return to Nepal?’
‘Oh Saheb.’ It was obvious they were on the horns of a dilemma. Jason made a quick decision. He took out his note book and wrote the battalion’s address and phone number and gave it to them. ‘Let’s not decide now. If ever you want to go, send us a letter or if you get the chance to phone here is the number. Best to cross over into Kelantan as it is the same country rather than try from Thailand. In any case we’ll be here for a few more days.’
The man took the note, put it in his pocket and sat still.
‘You probably don’t have a job, do you, otherwise how do you earn your living?’
And then a long story came out: in essence they were now helping make a camp so that if any guerrillas from Malaya wanted to come and hide in it it would be ready for them. It was being dug with defence posts in a sizable area and would indeed be strong.
‘How far is it from here?’
‘A long day’s walk not carrying a big pack.’
It was then Jason’s turn to sit still and ponder.
‘How many villages and military posts are there between here and your camp?’
Of course there were both but not many of either. The two men knew the area like the proverbial backs of their hands. It was hilly country and there were ways to get there without meeting anybody.
