Operation Blowpipe, page 17
He decided not to go to A Company where the new OC might not have welcomed him so went to the Police Station to collect his four Cheenas where he met Moby and before setting off for Kuala Lumpur, all of forty-two miles off, checked each man’s kit. Good, all present and correct.
They drove to the Defence Platoon who had been warned of their arrival. Rance had told the driver he’d go back to Seremban on the morrow. After settling his men in, he telephoned the Director of Intelligence, announced his arrival and asked what was the time the recce.
‘Be at the Air Flight lines at 1400 hours, you and two others. When you come back, come to my office and see me. I’ll warn the relevant people. I hear you have changed your group’s composition and want to know why after all we talked about.’ He did not sound the best pleased.
Jason acknowledged the flight timings and said he would report back on his return. So far, so good – but how far is so far?
The pilot of the Auster had over-flown Jason and spoken to him by radio on several operations. ‘Great to see you in person,’ he said, introducing himself. ‘You seem to get around a lot. The last time was away over to the east.’ ‘Goes with the job,’ answered Jason, smiling broadly as they shook hands.
He told Goh Ah Wah and Kwek Leng Ming to get in the seats behind the pilot, showed them how to fasten their belts and shut the door. Both were thrilled and a bit frightened by this new venture. The pilot took out his map and spread it open. ‘Now, I gather you want to fly up the Sungei Perak. Exactly where do you want to join it? Surely not from the coast inland?’
‘No, no. Please take her up straight to Fort Tapong and then fly alongside the river up to the border, but of course not flying over it. If you fly to one side on the way up and the other on the way down my two men can see it clearly.’
‘Yeah, that makes sense. Your men don’t look like or sound like Gurkhas,’ he said enquiringly.
‘No, they don’t because they’re not.’ Jason opened the door and, putting his head inside, and said, ‘from here we are going to fly to Fort Tapong. That is where we fly to tomorrow and from where we will go upstream by boat. I can’t say how far the boat will take us but we will have to walk to the border once the boat can get no farther. We are going to fly along the river to the border and I want you to look out of the window going and coming and remember what you see. When we are on the ground it will help us recognise any danger points.’
The pilot listened in, amazed at Jason’s fluency. The two men nodded their understanding and a few minutes later they took off. From Fort Tapong onwards the river narrowed. Watching from the plane they could see some dangerous rapids, bends and twists in the river and the jungle coming to the water’s edge, even disappearing under the canopy for most of the last quarter of an hour’s flight before turning back. Jason always looked down on the jungle seeing it an impenetrable sea of cabbages, but knowing full well it wasn’t. What struck him was that he could see no traces of any bombing, The only ‘holes’ in the jungle were away to the east and looked like Temiar ladangs. For the two Chinese it was almost too much to digest but it gave them a sense of proportion and importance that would otherwise have been lacking.
As the plane flew up and down the river Temiar and guerrillas looked up to see if they could spot it. It was not often planes flew above them but this one was flying straight: what could it mean? Ah Soo Chye, about to leave Kerinching’s ladang, thought it could be following the Sungei Perak. Does this foretell Security Force movement? If so we might try and ambush what comes along. It would take a day or so to get to a good spot he knew about.
‘I have been told that you have decided not to go with any Gurkhas, nor to take a radio set with you,’ said an ill-humoured Director of Intelligence. ‘Instead you have four SEPs and no radio. Isn’t that military madness in the extreme? Won’t it mean that the operation is bound to be a failure?’
Jason knew that he had to handle this one carefully. Colonel Mason noticed Major Rance’s hesitation before answering. ‘Sir, on mature reflection it struck me that I would be safer with an all Chinese group and therefore to have a Gurkha with a radio set would be out of place.’ He said no more.
‘That’s all very well if you were going on a guided tour in a peaceful area or on a picnic but, man, this is guerrilla country,’ retorted the Colonel, still not liking Jason’s idea one little bit. ‘And what about you?’ Before Jason could answer, ‘Does your CO approve? Does he even know about your ridiculous idea?’
‘Yes, sir. He does.’
‘And his reaction?’
Jason stayed silent.
Exasperated, Colonel Mason said, ‘Major Rance, answer my question, what was your CO’s reaction to your idea?’
‘There was no reaction at all, sir.’
‘How can that be so? There must have been a reaction. How can there not have been one?’
‘Because it was his idea, sir, not mine.’
‘His idea? Do you know why?’
Again Jason did not answer.
Colonel Mason, normally a placid man, exploded, ‘For heaven’s sake, answer me.’
‘Sir, he told me he would not allow any of his Gurkhas to go on such an operation so I had no choice but to re-plan.’
The Director of Infantry realised that Jason had been in a quandary and his silence was merely loyalty to an order he was in no way responsible for so he immediately calmed down. He stayed silent as he thought out the enormous strain that would attend Jason. Calmly he asked how Jason visualised contact with any guerrilla.
‘Sir, if I tell you, you will indubitably forbid me. Wouldn’t it be better to let you know after my return how I managed to bring back the Emissary?’
It was now Colonel Mason’s turn to be in a quandary. It was a situation that he had never previously encountered. He temporised. ‘Aren’t you being over-theatrical in giving me such an answer?’
‘Sir, you will, I expect, have read Sun Tzu,’ Jason began to his superior’s amazement. ‘You will recall that he wrote “Supreme excellence in generalship consists of breaking the enemy’s will without fighting.” I am basing my plans on that theme. If you can keep this to yourself and not stop me from going, I will grasp the nettle and let you know how I will manage.’
‘All right, go on then. In my job I know how to keep secrets.’
‘Sir, once we are on the ground, we will wear guerrilla kit, shirts, trousers and caps. If we meet anyone hostile on the way up we will not be Security Forces. I will be a turncoat from the government trying to join the MCP in Betong so ask for free passage so I can be taken as a comrade. I’ll have my face covered so won’t be recognised. I have no fear linguistically so it will also be “in plain sound”.’
The Colonel listened, eyes button bright. ‘And on the way down?’
‘Say I am a Russian pretending to be an Englishman coming to infiltrate the government as a double agent. I travelled from Moscow to Peking and on down to Betong, where I have just left.’
The Colonel’s eyes probed him like a scalpel as he considered the implications. ‘And that is the only way you think you can manage?’
‘Not “think”, sir, but “know”. Under those circumstances, nothing else came to my mind, sir. There is a Nepali proverb, “the goat to be sacrificed has had the gods enter it by sprinkling it with water; all that remains is for something to go wrong”,’ and his face was lit by a fleeting smile.
The Colonel digested this piece of esoteric Nepali folklore before saying ‘I must ask this. Who else knows of what you have decided?’
‘Only three, apart from you. One is Ismail Mubarak, Head of Special Branch, Seremban, who had to be told to get the CT kit ready, and one is Mr C C Too. Let me explain. I felt that to ask these four SEP to undertake such an operation with no recompense was asking too much. I needed authority to give them a bonus and permission to let them off the SEP list and be free men once again.’
‘Yes, I go along with that. You said three others. Who’s the third?’
‘My Company 2 ic, sir, my Gurkha Captain.’
‘Why him particularly?’
Again Jason hesitated before answering, ‘to write to my mother explaining everything in case I don’t come back.’
Some way along from the camp at Betong along the path to Ha La was a track that led south towards the border. The Bear’s squad reached it towards mid-afternoon. By then the Emissary was tired. Although he had regained his strength after his arduous journey, he was no longer a fit man and by now he was lagging. The Bear knew that the only reason he himself was still alive after so many years of jungle living and so many near misses was because he took nothing for granted. He didn’t believe that anyone from the camp would follow up but one could never be sure. He had travelled along that track so many times he knew it like the proverbial back of his hand and knew that about half a mile ahead was a north flowing stream. Once there he would take his group up it for a few hundred yards then jink back to the track until he found a place they could spend the night. That way, were there anyone following them, they would be safe.
The Emissary didn’t like getting his new footwear wet – the others went bare-footed – but kept quiet about it. Back on the track the Bear found a place where they could spend the night. He had divided some basic rations, rice chiefly, among his men, and, with their parangs, they constructed rudimentary shelters by cutting branches, which they covered in leaves and topped with sheets of waterproof material to keep out the rain.
After their meal logs were collected, a fire was lit to keep animals away and, taking a risk of not bothering about sentries – after all, they were not at war in Thailand, were they? – they drifted off to sleep.
21 February
Colonel Mason was quietly shocked at what he had learnt about Jason’s change in plan and felt it was in everyone’s best interests to say nothing about how matters had developed. He was in two minds to ring the CO of 1/12 GR but decided against that until, when? Until Major Rance had gone on leave? He had had his Deputy, a major, arrange the heli and transport for the five men. He had also arranged for Police Field Force boats – originally he had said only one but better to have a spare with such a tight programme so two had been ordered – to arrive at Fort Tapong the previous night but he himself thought it would be a gesture of solidarity if he himself went to see the group off.
The Royal Air Force ‘Whirlwind’ helicopter pilot was the same person who had lifted Jason, some Gurkhas and the same SEPs out of the jungle previously. He waved to them as the crewman ushered them inside and told them to belt up. The engine was switched on and the rotors started turning. No one bothered about the sack Jason carried. When all was ready it lifted off, Colonel Mason waving as it did, Jason’s Nepali proverb running through his mind.
Ah Soo Chye heard the heli in the distance. Must be something to do with the plane I heard yesterday. There’ll be someone somewhere along the river. On, on.
22 to 25 February
The Bear’s group with the Emissary found the going hard. It was not just the terrain that was getting rougher, steeper and colder but the nearer the line of mountains that formed the border the more it rained. Meng Ru didn’t grumble, he wasn’t that sort of man, but he slowed everyone down so it was lucky that the meeting on the border was not scheduled until the 25th. Wild animals were the only threat and the noise the group made – much too loud for the Bear’s professional standard – was, if anything, a bonus as it scared the forest creatures.
The helicopter ride took more than half an hour as Fort Tapong is a good way up the Sungei Perak. The Police Field Force had been alerted to marshal the heli and once it had landed, Jason and his men, having been bare-headed in case their hats blew off and damaged the rotors as they exited, quickly deplaned. Once they were clear the marshaller gave the sign for take-off and away it flew.
The OC was a Malay Inspector and his number 2 was a fine-looking Sikh. ‘Welcome, sir, welcome to Fort Tapong. It is not often we have people landing by heli.’
‘Thank you for marshalling us in so successfully,’ Jason answered, his smile open and friendly. ‘Let me introduce my men’ and, in Malay, told the policemen their names. They shook hands.
‘Would you like a meal before you move off in the boats? Both came last night. They want to move off as soon as you are ready but a quick meal will not harm matters.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It is only half past nine. I’ll tell the crews to be ready to caste off at ten o’clock.’
Jason asked his men, still in Malay, if they’d like a meal – ‘we don’t when we’ll see hot food again’ – and the offer was eagerly accepted. ‘For me a cup of coffee would go down very well,’ he added. ‘I’d like a word with you while my men are eating.’
‘Come along in,’ said the Inspector. They went to the upper floor where the open windows caught a breeze. Coffee was brought and Jason asked how much of his operation they knew.
‘All we have been told that there is a top-secret operation with the planning name of “Emissary”, nothing else.’
‘Let me explain,’ Jason said, sipping his coffee. ‘I have been tasked to go to the border and bring down a Chinese man of huge political importance and that is why my squad is one of SEPs. We are going to walk up to the border to meet him and bring him back …’
‘Yes, your boats will be here on the evening of the 26th to meet you at the boat point on the 27th.’
Jason nodded agreement at the dates. ‘Not having operated in the part of the country yet, although I had an aerial recce yesterday, my first two questions are how much river traffic is there and what is the CT situation? By that I mean how much is that activity out of the ordinary and/or how much would it alert the CT?’
‘Since the Baling peace talks life has been much quieter. In this area there has been a Special Branch operation, “Bamboo”, for some time, winning over the orang asli, or trying to win them over from the CTs. It is possible that any CTs who heard yesterday’s and today’s air activity would be suspicious.’
Jason thought about that. ‘You will have noticed I have no radio. That is on purpose. Also we are not carrying anything heavier than pistols. The last thing I want is a firefight. What I am asking is, is it at all possible for a squad of yours to move with us to the boat point, walk up and down in the vicinity, leaving tracks that show them to have gone back down river? The boats can wait half an hour at the disembarking point for the crew to stretch their legs. Also, a patrol moving around this area locally might make the CTs think the heli reinforcements were for here and not upriver.’
The Inspector looked at his Deputy and asked, ‘What do you think of that? I think we can manage that, can’t we?’
‘Yes,’ the Sikh answered. ‘The stand-by section is always rationed and ready to move. Let’s send them.’
Jason thanked them saying it was a great bonus and it made him feel much safer than before.
Orders were given and the two boats, one with Jason and his four and the other with the police, moved off at a quarter past ten.
To start with, the journey was of interest with flocks of hornbills, and monitor lizards on the sandy banks, otherwise it was much of the same: thick jungle either side with, initially, an occasional Malay village. The river narrowed and was slowed by his boat breaking its shear pins on underwater snags several times. As the hours passed it grew uncomfortably hot with no awning, and cramped. The river wound around the contours, with a strong current in the main channel. There was one place where the river fell a couple of feet – this is what I saw from the plane – and Jason asked if they could get out and walk the short distance to where the river was calmer. ‘It will make the boat lighter and let us stretch our legs.’
It was early evening by the time they reached the point where the boats could go no farther. Out they got, glad the uncomfortable journey was at an end. The boat drivers were adamant that it was too late to start going back. They and the police squad were prepared to spend the night where they were. Jason said to Goh Ah Wah that there was time to go on farther. ‘We can’t change into guerrilla clothes with these people watching, can we?’
‘Sinsaang, no. That is wise. In any case those people make too much noise for us.’
‘Goh, let them. Any guerrilla will concentrate on them and not on us.’
Two of them recced forward a couple of hundred yards, saw nothing and came back by which time Jason had found a small cave. At the back of the cave they hid the sack with their Security Force clothing in, wedging it into a corner. ‘We won’t cover it with leaves as they will be out of place,’ said Goh Ah Wah. Half an hour later there was just enough light to make a rude camp, collect wood to make a fire, take out their hard tack, eat it and before they went to sleep Jason got them to listen to his plan, which he had yet to tell them. ‘You know we are going as far as the border. That was why we had that recce yesterday. We need to move quickly and act as though we were not Security Forces but as real guerrillas. That means all four of you will walk in front and I come along at the back. If you meet any guerrilla your cover story is that you are escorting a European from the government who is a turncoat going to join the MCP in Betong. I will hide till then and, when you call me as proof, I will join you with a camouflage veil over my face. There should be no difficulty as we will be on the same side and not hostile to one another. Incidentally, the chief guerrilla’s name is Ah Soo Chye and his lieutenants are Lo See and Tek Miu.’
The four Chinese were greatly amused at Jason’s plan and laughed softly. It appealed to their sense of humour. ‘Sinsaang, that is fine for the way to the border. What happens if we meet these people on the way down with the Emissary?’
