Brother Fish (53 page)

We walked until dawn, Jimmy doing most of the speaking. It was early spring, and a misty vapour rose from our mouths as we started to climb. ‘There gonna be eight of us cats,' he said. ‘Dey all da bad guys.'

‘You mean the blokes that caused the attacks on the progressives and wrote the captions on the Mao and Stalin posters?'

‘Yoh got it, Brother Fish. Da Chinese, dey done jus' about work out who we is and it be time to vamoose!'

‘Thanks for including me,' I said.

Jimmy smiled, and then to save me any mawkish sentimentality he said, ‘Yoh part da plan, Brother Fish. It ain't gonna work yoh not der, man.' He went on to explain the escape plan to me. They had the combined knowledge of several previous escape attempts to help them, and at first they decided to head south in an attempt to get to the front-line. But on the latest reports they would not get there till they had traversed 200 miles of the rugged central mountain range. ‘Maybe it too far an' we ain't got enough food to get der, which is what we suspek,' Jimmy said. ‘Even if we make it der, we gotta creep our way through miles o' da Chinese army before we get to ours. So we change da plan. We head south foh a couple o' days, den west foh 'bout fifty miles till we reach da coast. We steal us a fishing boat an' go out to sea an' hope one of our planes or ships come.' He paused. ‘Ain't none of us know nothin' 'bout sailing no fishin' boat – yoh da man, Brother Fish.'

There was no way of evaluating whether this was a sound plan or not, but the sea sounded a much safer place to be than on land and the Chinese would not be expecting it. We continued walking for a while and at one stage, after a steady climb, we drew to a halt and rested. That was when Jimmy said, ‘I guess I got me some explaining to do, Brother Fish.'

‘Yeah, just a tad, you black bastard,' I replied.

Jimmy grinned. ‘Do dat mean I ain't comin' to yo' island? Ain't gonna get none o' yo' mama's cray stew?' Jimmy had long since come to understand the different meanings of the pejorative ‘bastard' in the Australian lingo.

‘I'm thinking real hard about withdrawing the invitation,' I said, trying not to laugh.

He went on to explain that all along it had been obvious to him that the Chinese regarded the coloured prisoners in the camp as a soft target. ‘So I listen up some and soon 'nuff Dinh, he bring up da subject foh general discussion. Dis mah chance. “Boss, we should be comrades,” I say to him, 'cos dis the right jar-gon. He done light up like a Christmas tree. “We must fight the American imperialist together,” he say. “Your people and mine.” Because he heard 'bout me do dat busi-ness with O'Rourke an' how everything clean an' orderly 'round here, he reckon he done caught himself a big fish – da biggest in da black sea.' Jimmy laughed at his own pun. ‘He say I should come to headquarters straight off. Dem Chinese cats dey parade me 'front da commandant and I tell dem my story – da orphanage, how da Kraus twins done beat me up, Elmira Reformatory.' Jimmy laughed suddenly. ‘I tell dem stuff I don't even know happened. Time I finish da commandant, he shake mah hand. “You is a true believer,” he says to me. All dem other officials, dey smilin' an' shakin' mah hand, an' I think pretty soon Lieutenant Dinh he gonna be Captain Dinh. Dey say from now on I gonna work at da camp headquarters, man!'

‘So it was you who leaked the traitors and the spies list?' I asked.

Jimmy nodded, and then added, ‘I get to see da notes dem undercover progressives dey write. It ain't good, man – dem muth'fuckers dey reporting on what da other prisoners dey bin talkin' 'bout. So I makes me a list. But who I gonna trust wid dat list? Well, Brother Fish, dat easy, man. Dey send me roun' to talk at indoctrination an' give me da names of da bad guys so as I can target dem, try to convert dem. Well, I target dem all right. I pass da lists o' dem undercover progressives to dem an' den we start talkin' 'bout makin' us an escape team.'

‘There were six of them on the escape committee?'

‘Nah, only three. I tell dem bring a companion dey trust wid der life who ain't sick or got hisself dysentery. Iffen we gonna make it we gonna need eight men for sentry duty, an' to steal da crew an' boat.' He explained that we were to rendezvous with the others at a river junction the following morning.

‘Well, mate, I've got to admit – you fooled me. I was convinced you'd betrayed me.'

Jimmy looked surprised. ‘Brother Fish, I give you dat signal.'

‘What bloody signal?'

‘Mah speech, when I stan' up by da microphone. I done speak like I some white turkey. Dat means yoh know it ain't me, man! Dat da signal!'

‘Well, I want you to know it was a bloody piss-poor signal because I didn't get it.' I paused, and then asked, ‘Where did you learn to speak like that, anyway?'

‘Da Somerset
Messenger-Gazette
newspaper, when I read to Frau Kraus. It easy, man – think like a turkey, talk like a turkey.'

‘Well, I'll be buggered,' was all I could think to say. As always, Jimmy had managed to surprise me. I had to make up my mind on the spot whether to remain shitty with him or to forgive him. The bastard had put me through hell, but it was damn near impossible to resent him for too long. He'd come back and he'd included me in the escape plan, so it served no purpose to remain angry with him.

We continued on our way, and every once in a while we'd stop and Jimmy would check his crude homemade compass. At last he pointed to what appeared to be a small cave – not really a cave, more like an overhanging rock. ‘We stop here foh a while – chow time,' he said. We gathered a few twigs, made a fire and cooked a little rice, and Jimmy produced a nearly full bottle of fish sauce and added a dash to the rice. Rice was a luxury in itself, but with the fish sauce added it became sheer ambrosia.

We walked all that day to within striking distance of the rendezvous point, and slept in a hollow between two rocks in order to avoid the icy wind. Christ help anyone trying to escape in winter. Next morning we headed off at daylight, hoping to come across a road Jimmy said ought to be there if our navigation was right. He'd handed me the compass along with the written directions. Navigation was something I'd learned very early in life, but I have to say I was bloody glad when we hit the road at just about the spot we ought to have come upon it. Staying well concealed within the surrounding bush, we walked parallel to the road for some distance, then veered off down a gully until we reached the river junction.

‘According to your notes we must be just about there – it says to look for a group of big rocks just downriver from the junction,' I said.

Jimmy gave a soft whistle and I was surprised to hear a reply. ‘Da compass, it works – yoh da man, Brother Fish,' he said, congratulating me.

Four other prisoners were waiting, concealed within the rocks. I was introduced to everyone and Jimmy to the two mates the escape committee had brought along. We lit a fire and cooked the last of the rice and Jimmy added more of the precious fish sauce. From now on it would be millet and whatever we could scrounge off the land – or steal. Pretty soon a seventh bloke arrived, whom Jimmy addressed as Don Bradman. I couldn't help smiling, which the bloke noticed.

‘Aye, and I'm not even Australian,' he volunteered, grinning wearily. ‘North Yorkshire. Me dah was the village cricket umpire.'

I guess he'd accepted his name as the particular cross he was forced to bear in life. Jimmy handed him his portion of the rice and he devoured it hungrily.

‘Where yo' partner?' Jimmy asked, when he'd completed eating.

‘Sick, mon. He didna want to come – said he'd be holdin' us up,' Don Bradman replied.

Jimmy's face drained and went the grey colour folk of his race turn when they're deeply shocked, but there was nothing he could say or do about it. My only hope was that the bloke was genuinely sick.

We moved straight off, following the river and making good time. Then, late in the afternoon, when we'd almost decided to settle in for the night, we rounded a bend in the river and were suddenly surrounded by North Korean security police.

Jimmy, who was standing beside me, shrugged and turned to Don Bradman. ‘Hey, dat one informer yoh don't know about, comrade.'

Don Bradman blushed furiously. ‘Sorry, Jimmy, we coom from the same village – Sheriff Hutton. We went t'same fooking school.'

‘These are gooks, mate,' I said quietly to Jimmy, as the North Koreans, yabbering excitedly, surrounded us. ‘Let's hope to Christ they take us back to the chink camp and don't handle this themselves.' The likelihood of coming out alive after the North Koreans had manifested their charming little ways to make us talk was close to zero.

Fortunately they took us back to our previous captors and I found myself back in the cells, where the Chinese frequently bashed us and subjected us to endless interrogation. Dinh, in particular, was furious, as I guess he'd lost enormous face. In fact, he had recently been promoted to captain but the second day back we noted that he'd been stripped of his promotion and was back to lieutenant, which did nothing to improve his mood.

The bashing and interrogation continued for several weeks, with Jimmy copping far the worst of it. In the cells they gave us no covering against the still cold nights. Then before the morning sun could warm us, they thrashed our bodies while we were still shivering, which, of course, was much more painful. I deeply dreaded that the rafter treatment might follow and that I'd be put in the Kennel Club. But to our surprise we were released and, of course, each of us was required to deliver a public confession. Which, by the way, we'd done with a degree of mock repentance that completely escaped the Chinese but set the congregated prisoners to clapping. The applause was again misunderstood by our captors, who took it for a general show of approval for our deeply soulful repentance.

As it subsequently turned out, the reason why we'd escaped the truly horrific torture was because the parties at the peace talks had exchanged lists of the names of all the prisoners held and their current physical condition – which, according to the Chinese, in our case was excellent. At the same time they were accusing the Americans of mistreating the Chinese and North Koreans held in United Nations POW camps. I guess they couldn't afford to risk any further deaths such as Doug Waterman's. Of course, we were unaware that the peace talks were so advanced – otherwise, perhaps Jimmy may have taken the chance of being discovered and may not have escaped.

There followed several months of waiting, with our spirits rising on rumours that a cease-fire was close and falling on news of new disagreements emerging.

The 27th of July 1953 began as just another day – same lousy bowl of millet, same morning routine – but by mid-morning there was a buzz around the camp, although no one seemed to know quite why. Then, to our surprise, Lieutenant Dinh approached Jimmy and told him the Korean Armistice had been signed. He shook his hand, and then mine. ‘I'm glad you make it to the end,' he said to our surprise, then added, ‘You good men, good soldier.'

‘Yeah, mate, thanks for not shooting us,' I said, grinning. Talk about the inscrutable Chinese! Who would have thought this final gesture was possible from such a determined enemy. We talked a little further and he told us he was leaving the army after nineteen years and was returning to his fishing village in Guangdong Province. I told him we were doing the same, and he laughed. Jimmy then said, ‘Yoh catch communist fish, we gonna catch us some capitalist fish!'

If the war wasn't technically over, and the armistice was simply a way of everyone saving face, it was over for us. We'd made it through to the end and were going home – that is, I was, and Jimmy was hopefully accompanying me. The almost two years in captivity had steeled us into accepting constantly bad outcomes, so when a good one came along we simply couldn't quite grasp it. There was excitement in the camp, certainly, but we hadn't the energy to rush around whooping for joy like schoolboys. We were weary and sick beyond celebration, and hope had to be rekindled in our spirits. Some of us even thought news of the armistice may have been another Chinese trick to further reduce our resistance. But Jimmy and I felt we could trust Lieutenant Dinh, who, despite everything, was a man of some honour.

‘You know what I's gonna do first thing, Brother Fish?' Jimmy asked.

‘What, mate?'

‘Straw-berry malted.' He parted his hands to indicate about twelve inches. ‘This fuckin' big!'

I'd dreamed of chocolate and Jimmy of a strawberry milkshake, and I was reminded that freedom is about the little things. We were free at last to do the little things. It was a glorious feeling.

One of the first things I was going to do was write to Gloria, my mum. We'd been allowed to write home every month, but I hadn't heard from her since I'd been taken prisoner. I didn't even know if the Chinese had posted my letters. Not sending letters was one of the threats used on reactionaries, and conversely, a promise to send them was a bribe to become a progressive. Until the prisoner list came out, Gloria may well have assumed I was dead.

We travelled by truck, train and finally by foot to a holding camp at Kaesong. What an irony – Kaesong was where 3RAR had waited eagerly to start the pursuit north. I had been a virgin soldier at the time and couldn't wait to be blooded, to go into battle, to prove I was worthy of the rifle slung across my shoulder and the ribbons not yet on my chest. I recalled the rhyme we'd chanted with such glee at school.