5 Mar 1944, Journal of Lt. Donald W. Kerr

((The guerrillas have moved Lt Kerr to the Sai Kung Peninsula and are hiding him in a “grass house”.))

I awoke into a more restful world.  The sun was sending dozens of bright searchlights through the crevices in the bamboo matting walls, the air was warm and springlike…Looking out, I could see several people tranquilly working in the rice fields, a few clustered houses, and scattered cows, grazing on the sparse hillside.  All very rural, all very quiet…

…Little Chen dropped around during my third cigarette and had me follow him over to the cluster of houses where the others were waiting.   Without ceremony we set forth over the rice field dikes and terraces in the direction of the sea.  It was a fine, clear night and I made good progress for the first half hour – mostly because our route was all downhill.

We reached a wide path that was paved with time-smoothed stone blocks and turned a little to follow it.   All very well, but before long the blocks were steps and we were again climbing a Mountain of the Moon.  Endless, endless, endless steps curving over the face of a mountain is my impression of that night.

In the chilly small hours of the night we surmounted the last mountain – from the wind-swept crest I could see a wide reach of open ocean that certainly would limit any more travel by walking.  

The usual top-of-the-hill stop was made, but this first full view of the Pacific stretching in wide immensity out into the misty distant darkness influenced each of us to take up well-separated positions and sit silently looking.  This was the edge of their world, this was the limit of their factual knowledge, but beyond the curve of this empty horizon had come the Enemy – legend and white men had it that there was another land out there, over and beyond the edge, but how could one know?   The primitive fear of things hidden beneath and beyond the dark and spaceless sea crept over me as I shivered in the rushing wind and a feeling came that it was not only miles of distance but centuries of man between me and home… 

((The group arrives at a house))…Little Chen tapped on the door, then pushed it open a little and slid in.  A moment later a man holding a tiny lamp held the door open for me to enter.   I looked around in the dim room.  …Several people had risen from a table against one wall and one of them stepped forward, hand outstretched.

“We give you welcome, I am Francis.  … Leftenant Kerr, this is our Commander, Kwok Lon.” 

…I made what I hoped was an appropriate remark and looked around the circle of faces, bobbing my head to each.  When I came to the woman I did a double take —why,  it was Miss Li who had visited me back in ((the charcoal cave))!  She smiled back and murmured that she was glad to see me again.  I sat down thinking that it was a small China —any given character always turned up twice…

I asked how they had first found I was in ((the charcoal cave)) and learned that Small Boy had told his father, a member of the guerrilla corps, and that he had sent word to this Number One.   He in turn had sent Miss Li…

As the novelty of the new place wore off I became more aware of my weariness and must have showed it as Francis suggested I make use of the bed they had fixed upstairs.  …The bed, a wide board supported by benches and covered with matting was mighty hard but at least the hardness was evenly distributed.  …I…eventually dropped off to a troubled sleep.

((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.))