The Call of the Thunder Dragon (34 page)

The result of the South’s
fertility was that Burma produced twice as much rice as it needed
and was able to export million tons every year. The basic food of
its people was assured and there was in Burma little of the
grinding poverty seen in India or China.

Yet, the benefits of the profit
were not seen in the average village family and life in the hills
was as hard as ever.

As far as Falstaff could see,
politically the country was developing rapidly towards
self-governance, despite the chopping and changing of the British
administration. From 1937 onwards internal government had been in
the hands of a Burmese ministry answerable to an elected
legislative, the only subjects reserved being Defence, Foreign
affairs, Currency and the government of a few areas that contained
other people native to Burma.

Burmese nationalists called
loudly from time to time for a quicker change or directly for
independence, but there was little of the bitterness Falstaff had
seen so apparent in India.

There was no doubt that Burma was
exploited commercially by European and Indian companies coming in
to establish monopolies. Huge profits were being amassed by British
and Indian firms.

The Baptist church was educating
their converts and could rightly claim to be making a valuable
contribution to the education of the country. How much of this
contributed to the conversion of the population to Christianity was
a different matter. The door had been opened to Print.

The value of the advanced
English-Burmese dictionaries and other literature, besides the
Bible translations, were making a tremendous contribution by
opening the door to new ideas in Agriculture, Law and Civil
Engineering. There was also the fact not always recognised by
colonial administration was that the missions were also
contributing towards the health of the country. Every missionary
was, in many ways, a doctor or a nurse in village districts and
schools.

Falstaff couldn’t exactly see the
fly in the ointment, governance was there, taxation and
independence would surely follow? On the whole, he thought the
development of Burma was clearly not a good model, but far better
than India or China?

Falstaff was happy to listen and
nod to Maung’s ideas and questions, but it was hard not to shed a
tear when he was reminded to think back to Harbin
⁴³
, in China. He
wondered if Maung knew about the whole sale exploitation of the
people there; he guessed he didn’t.

He got up and poured himself a
drink. He felt sick. He looked at Minami in a new light, he didn’t
look right. The Japanese man was far too friendly. Maung was too
accepting, a small fault a Burma but not a journalist?

Surely it wasn’t too incredulous
that Minami, as a Japanese, was lying? Except Maung was Asian and
seemed to trust his fellow Asian and his fellow journalist, the
Japanese Minami.

Falstaff wondered if, or how
often the two had met before. Surely Maung was aware of the bigger
picture, of the Japanese invasion of China, and the crimes being
done there?

Minami had either gone native,
which seemed unlikely, his newspaper could recall him at any time
or he was a spy worming his way into Burma society. A Japanese man
with a mission in Burma and that nothing to do with him at all? Not
part of the pursuit that had brought the Japanese to the town.
Selfishly Falstaff smiled with relief.

Falstaff’s first thought was one
of joy. Could it be true he was no longer a target himself?
Standing he reached for the bottle, thinking it over. He had
escaped, but what did Minami’s presence mean?

If Minami said one word about
co-prosperity, he’d know what he was about he decided. Falstaff
realised he was standing staring at Minami with the bottle in his
hand. He wished he could smash the bottle into the Japanese
reporter’s face.

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude, can I
offer you another drink?” Falstaff said at last. “Good health!”

He spent another hour talking
with them. Minami was not afraid of showing off his knowledge of
Burma or his contacts with newspapers and politicians.

In contrast, U Chit Muang was
being patient and unpretentious with a deliberate way of thinking
when he did speak he was profound and astute.

He spoke with great enthusiasm of
his ‘small project’, The Weekly Thunderer, demonstrating his
calmness, maturity and brilliance, without the need for
recognition.

Falstaff rubbed his temples. He
was hardly abiding by the prohibition of the Baptist house; taking
too much advantage of the medicinal spirit on offer. Minami and
Maung had been batting ideas back and forth between themselves,
whilst Falstaff was reduced to a sounding board for ideas. One
thing he got from the conversation was that Minami couldn’t
understand the importance Maung was prepared to put on the
differential rights of the Karen, Chins, Kachins and Shan
peoples.

“Did you ever hear of Lawrence of
Arabia! Now he’s a bastard you could learn from!” Falstaff spoke
out without realising it.

He started out explaining to
Minami and Maung, that Lawrence like they had sympathy for the
people. He had fought with lived with them and learnt their
language and then sought represent the Arabs at a peace
conference.

“Where he failed to get what the
Arabs wanted, this was due to his lack of knowledge; a secret deal
had been done, a prior agreement; which I suppose is where you come
in as a journalist, telling truth.” Falstaff finished.

Minami questioned him
straightforwardly about Lawrence, particularly about the Arab
revolt. Falstaff answered his questions eagerly at first, out of
surprise that the Japanese reporter had never heard of his
childhood hero. Every boy in England knew of Lawrence and what he’d
achieved, in contrast to the accounts of the western front, his was
a real adventure.

Abruptly, Falstaff started to
feel morbid, having reminded himself of Lawrence, he remembered how
he died. A tragic motorcycle accident, he’d swerved to avoid two
cyclists and died aged 46.

Falstaff had just come back from
Afghanistan in ‘35 to hear about Lawrence’s tragic death, just
after he’d proudly found out that Lawrence had re-joined the
RAF.

Falstaff moped, that same year
he’d been discharged himself. Back then England had nothing to
offer him, his mother gone; only his father’s disapproval to face.
He had been back east in less than a month, then trekked back again
to Spain looking for purpose in the civil war. He wondered if it
had been Lawrence or someone else that had compelled him to go and
fight in Spain. He shuddered, Spain had been his first test of
aerial combat. So thrilling and so terrifying, he’d come so close
to dying and yet he still yearned for the air.

He wondered who might be the next
Lawrence? War always had their heroes and their villains. He
remembered arriving in Spain, it had been at Madrid, bombed by both
sides.

Minami was watching him he
realised, suddenly the Japanese reporter spoke. “It has been very
interesting Falstaff-San. I believe you have seen a great deal, I
have no idea what it is like to fly, like you, - but in your eyes I
see a fire burning, I wonder what stokes it?”

The group broke up retiring to
bed. Falstaff walked up the stairs, suddenly remembering a guest
house he once used in Gosport. That had the same narrow, steep
stairs which seemed especially elevated. As he went up into the
Cimmerian darkness he couldn’t shake off the feeling that was where
he now was. That everything else was a dream, tomorrow he’d be
reporting to his squadron, ready for war with Germany. Somehow that
was easier to accept.

He went up the narrow stairs and
turned to the room he instinctively knew was his, expecting it to
be cold, the windows frosted on the inside behind the grey net
curtains frosted to the window pane.

‘Join the Fleet Air Arm, you’ve
flown as test pilot, you know carriers!’

‘No!’ He had said firmly, fed up
with months ditching in the cold waters of the channel, then he was
sent straight off to India and Afghanistan to re-join his squadron.
That’s where it all began. Apart from the business with that girl
from the Harefield Academy?

He found the bed wasn’t cold, Zam
was there, naked and warm but sound asleep. The room smelled of dry
flowers, Zam’s sweet provocative scent was in the air. He undressed
slowly, hanging his trousers and shirt on a wooden chair. He
thought about the strange meeting. Falstaff had come away closer to
understanding Maung’s point of view on Burma’s status than he had
of Minami’s real purpose.

There was no further clue
forthcoming, no sign that he was using the Baptists or the
journalists for any Japanese scheme. Falstaff realised it might
come down to him being paranoid.

There was no pretending, it was
too late for a walk with Zam now. He slipped into bed intending to
wake early. He decided to speak to Maung in the morning, tell him
about Harbin. Tell him about the way the Japanese really
worked.

Falstaff had been much more
tired than he realised it was gone ten o’clock before he woke
enough and got up next morning. He had been over eating and resting
in too much he decided, but the local doctor had advised on bed
rest to prevent the possibility of pneumonia if he over did it too
soon.

After breakfast in bed, brought
by Zam, who was still doting over her rescuer, they went out for a
walk, then he realised with regret that he hadn’t spoken to U Chit
Muang again, on enquiry he found that he had already left.

Minami Masuyo or by his real
name Colonel Suzuki Keiji held an earpiece to his ear as his hand
hovered over the off switch on the radio. He was seething. He had
the reports detailing the dead paratroopers, his local contacts had
acquired copies. He had just finished discussing the matter with
Colonel Haga-Jin’s superiors. Colonel Haga-Jin was nothing more
than an opportunistic linguist. A soldier with an inflexible
military mind and the notion he could speak like a Chinese. Colonel
Haga-Jin’s mission was to discover, oversee and when ordered hamper
Nationalist Chinese movement in Yunnan, China. So why was Haga-Jin
chasing British pilots across the border, blundering into his
operation?

Colonel Suzuki Keiji was a staff
officer from the Imperial General Head Quarters in Japan. He had
been charged with a special mission to assist young Burmese
nationalists who opposed the British colonial administration in
India.

The Japanese military was
interested in Burma because it desperately needed the region's
natural resources, especially oil and wanted to cut the ‘Burma
Road’ through which Britain and the United States supplied the
Chiang Kai-shek’s army in China.

Suzuki’s plans were a lot more
subtle than the so called ‘Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere’.
That would not win over the Burmese, who if only they knew it were
closer to independence and prosperity than they knew. However, it
would be so much better for Japan if, as an ally, Burma could
assist them.

Suzuki’s plans depended not on
invasion, but on up-rising. He knew militarists saw everything only
in a Japanese perspective. Even worse; they would insist on the
Burmese doing the same. For Japan, there was only one way to do a
thing, the Japanese way. One common goal and one interest.

Japanese dominance meant one
destiny for all of East Asia. To become conquered like China or to
become puppet states like Manchukuo, Formosa or Korea, - forever
part of Japan. Japanese racial impositions would make any real
understanding between the Japanese militarists and the people of
Burma impossible. Colonel Suzuki knew this, but he also estimated
Burma could not, by present cause of action, through political or
student un-rest become independent of the British whilst war loomed
in Europe. Japan could not and would not wait.

Burma would remain a beneficial
trade partner and ally of the British; tied to British India or
Independent. Revolt or change would take a long time and,
therefore, was of no benefit to Japan.

A new balance had to be struck.
If Burma could throw off her shackles with violence and the
clandestine aid of Japan, so that in turn Burma could start to
trade with Japan directly. The political aims of Japan could be met
without Japanese military intervention.

Suzuki knew that Britain did not
want conflict with Burma; and had never fully established the same
level of rule over the country as they had in India, with war in
Europe they could either speed the way to Burmese independence
peacefully; which he did not want to see happen. Blocking British
access to Burma and stopping the supplies reaching China via the
mountains was too important to leave to chance.

Suzuki thought his plan was
flawless, the precarious nature of British rule in India, coupled
with the rising calls for greater Indian independence meant the
Britain would have to balance both Burma and India in hand; would
India rise up if Burma got independence; and could Britain hold the
Empire together if India rose out resentment? As far as the British
were concerned Burma was not a military threat and its people
peaceful, but for the students and the new class of leaders coming
out of the University of Rangoon.

What if Burma could rise? India
would follow, Suzuki intended to help the Burmese, to ensure that
the direction the young Burmese wanted to go was open to them. Why
should they await the outcome of the war in Europe if they could be
moulded into an army of their own?

He flicked the off switch on the
radio. Satisfied that Haga-Jin would be withdrawn from Burma and
his men would not be around to spoil his plans. The impatience and
simple single-mindedness of the typical Japanese commander
continued to infuriate him.