70 years ago: Hong Kong's wartime diaries

((Lt. Kerr has been hiding in a “Rock Cave” near Ma On Shan since February 21, 1944…))

One more day. …I heard a small rustle of the leaves and a scrape of a shoe.  Seemed to come from overhead, the way we approached the cave.  I slipped in and out of sight, had my gun out when I saw Chinese feet climbing down the face of the rock over the entrance, then a view of a smiling, pockmarked face – Wong Cheng!  He waved an expansive arm, and managed to remember this English…“Japan, all go!”  and by his wide swept arm showed that every single one of them must have returned to Tokio overnight…

…Seemed odd to be climbing the rocks in broad daylight.  Wong stepped out quite openly so we all followed his example.  My leg felt fine and it was a beautiful clear morning – gee things were O.K.!  We went down to the valley house where we had gone before for suppers….We seemed to be waiting for something… a party headed by Hok Choy arrived.  We started at four…Before departing, I had a good look around and fixed the location in my mind so I’d be able to come back some future day – that house and nearby cave had been a welcome home for two weeks while the Japanese hunted in vain.

Six of us in the party….The path led towards the sea and followed along one side of the steep valley…By sundown we had reached the bay although the shoulder of the mountain we were on was several thousand feet above the water.  We didn’t go much in the open then, but went around the side of the mountain by means of a tiny valley.  Just as we were about to enter another large valley parallel to our home one, Hok Choy had us all stop and lie down in the grass.  

I … asked why the delay.  “Ahead, in this next place is the station of the Japanese….It is the gold mine … last year…we attacked them.  Killed all, but always they return,” … The stars were all out when we set out again.  Each man had his long pistol in his hand and Wong showed that I, too, should have mine out and ready.  We crept down a steep path into a narrow valley… past a group of dimly lit houses.  …

We climbed over a low ridge and there was the wide bay before us, far below.  I could trace the white road leading steeply down and far in the distance ending in a pier on the edge of the water.  …we leaned against some rocks and had a cigarette and watched the slow course of some automobile lights along an invisible road on the opposite shore.  The bay was several miles wide and most irregular in shape – I pictured the trouble I’d have had finding my way through this country alone.

…We got up stiffly from the path and resumed our walk.  It was 3 A.M. and chilly…We skirted a little village, turned slightly back and approached a small dark building set a little away from the others.  After considerable knocking, the door was unbarred and an old, old woman peered out.  A few words from Hok Choy and we were admitted to the single room.  …A younger man came down a ladder from the loft where he had been sleeping and greeted us.  …

We left at five.  The rest had been too long and I was stiff and weary.  We went back into the mountains again over rough trails.  At several points dark sentries suddenly moved from the bushes with upraised rifles and halted us.  We were getting near the house of the mysterious Number One, I again surmised.  

It wasn’t much farther until a large house loomed up and we entered the walled compound and were silently admitted to a low dark room.  One young man introduced himself in good English as Thomas.  We exchanged courtesies and I showed him my various curios.  The flag and Pointee-Talkee took his attention most – he studied the “chop” on the flag most attentively and called the others over to see it.  I wasn’t real sure myself exactly what it meant – I said pointing to it “Chiang Kai-Shek.  Ding hao!”  They looked evasive.

“Do you know who we are?”  asked Thomas.

“Yes,” I said, “you’re guerrillas, a sort of un-uniformed army.”

“Well, yes, but more than that?”

“Guess that’s all I know – I suppose you’re paid by the National Government and do sabotage and the like.  What else are you?”

“I see you don’t understand Chinese politics . . . the Number One will explain it to you later,” finished Thomas.

…After a round of tea, they brought in several blankets and arranged them on one of the unyielding bamboo bed platforms.  Thomas assured me that I was safe here and said that we would remain until the next night.  I was glad to lie down and without removing my clothes was instantly asleep.

((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.))