The Call of the Thunder Dragon (32 page)

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Authors: Michael J Wormald

Tags: #spy adventure wwii, #pilot adventures, #asia fiction, #humor action adventure, #history 20th century, #china 1940s, #japan occupation, #ww2 action adventure, #aviation adventures stories battles

BOOK: The Call of the Thunder Dragon
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Dr. Robbins wondered at the
palpable significance of the pair’s journey. The pilot was clearly
beyond redemption, a rat, a rogue and filthy scoundrel. The girl
may be just an ignorant pawn. He watched Zam giggling, leaning
close to the pilot, taking Falstaff’s hand and placing it on her
knee.

Conversely, the Pastor ruminated
with some revulsion that the girl herself maybe influencing
Falstaff’s voracity. The thought that the young woman was capable
of such carnal guile brought bile to his throat. He gulped his tea
and prayed that this was not so.

The harlot is so dangerous
because she appears to be so beautiful, sensuous, loving and
sincere. The words of the sermon would be wasted on a man like
Falstaff, who had brazenly come into his house with a woman on his
arm who was not his wife and not of his race. He noted the striped
cotton pinafore, a facsimile of acceptable western style, straining
across the chest to contain her prominent breasts.

A harlot is a woman who gives
herself to seduce men by her flattering and crafty enticements.
Just as this Zam flattered Falstaff with her words. This woman who
spoke English like a child or the strange words of Bhutan that
meant ‘Land of the Thunder Dragon’? He could write a sermon, if not
a book on folly of such a journey into the unknown. A cautionary
tale based on the two blind sinners.

Falstaff was already lost, the
girl with him could put on any face, hide her true identity, but in
the end was only mocking the carnal senses of men. The missionary
looked at Zam, who was looking wide eyed and innocent at
Falstaff.

The missionary put down his empty
cup and mopped his brow, he’d drunk the hot liquid too fast he told
himself.

“I shall write a sermon!” He said
out loud. “The folly of the coward! Woe unto thee, O thou son of
thunder, for you, will be taunted by the king's concubines!”

Robbins was shaking, he reminded
himself that it had been a great pleasure and honour to accept the
post in Burma and that so much work had already been done. He never
doubted that God would answer his prayer if he was doing God’s work
in God’s way. God could certainly give him strength to do the work
required of him.

He looked into his drained teacup
and looked at the tea leaves; this arrogant, foolish Falstaff Wild
he would not pray for he decided. No matter how he was moved by
Falstaff Wild and his mistress’s plight, his prayers were for the
thousands of Burmese, who were hopelessly in the dark. Something
had to be done, was being done he reminded himself, to take the
message of the saviour to them. John Falstaff Wild could go hang,
he thought to himself.

“I must prepare for evensong, it
is a great shame that your injuries will not permit you to join
us... It would be charming if you saw how the Holy Spirit has
reached Burma! There are a number of Burman churches, they are not
yet numerous nor are they wealthy, but our flock of converts are
loyal givers. Several of our good Burman families are investing
more than 1,000 Rupees each towards the new Chapel!”

Falstaff nodded plainly
uninterested, but mention of money nudged his interest. A thousand
Rupees each thought Falstaff. ‘day light robbery’, was his first
thought. For the families with little agriculture produce or
fishing to live on it would be a fortune.

“Gosh, I hope they know what
they’re getting into?”

“Pardon?” Dr. Robbins who had
already stood to leave turned back towards Falstaff. “Are ya
suggesting in any way they have reason to reconsidah?”

“No, no, it’s just that a
thousand Rupee is a hell of a lot for these folks?”

“Your manner of speaking, is most
inappropriate! Mr Falstaff Wild. Our folks, our people, are
gallant! They’re ah’part of something! Hard working labourers,
working themselves to build the chapel! Young boys, most of them
prepared to sacrifice a great deal to better their land and for the
good of their church!”

“I think that is quite noble?”
Zam unexpectedly interrupted.

Falstaff licked his lips not sure
if he should pitch in and risk distressing the Doctor again. “I see
your point, maybe... but have you ever considered their position?
They were happy as Buddhists. The British let their beliefs be?
Have you ever considered what you’d be if you weren’t a Baptist?”
Falstaff asked.

“Ashamed!” Dr. Robbins retorted.
“Ashamed Mr. Falstaff Wild, ashamed! As you and your fellows of
Great Britain should be! Leaving it to us! Trawling all the way
from the shores of America to bring the word of God to these poor
people left in the dark by the Great British Empire who just came
to acquire goods at the lowest prices they can! Without pity or
regard for their poor lost souls! Finish your tea and be gone from
this house Mr Falstaff Wild! And remember only God is Great!”

The pastor looked Falstaff in the
eye and left with a sideward glance at Zam. “We are warned not to
be enticed by the charms of this sin!”

Falstaff offered his hand to Zam.
“Shall we get back to the guest house and see what’s for dinner
before we’re thrown out of there as well?”

They walked back in the dusk
towards the guest house, as they did they came across a line of
elephants returning from the forest where they had been clearing
dead trees and collecting firewood.

Zam stopped stock still.
Frightened out of her wits, having never seen an elephant up close.
The elephant sniffed, as all pachyderm do by raising their trunks
and probing with their great hairy nostrils huffing and puffing.
Zam squealed with laughter as the hairy trunks tickled her.

The handlers and the boys sitting
on the elephant’s head laughed. The elephants joined in, trumpeting
at the peel of laughter.

The oozies
34
way of life is
simple and basic, but it was also very hard. Living in the forests,
the calling passed from father to son. In the monsoon, when they go
to extract the hardwood trees from the forest they are apart from
their families for months. Once, a Burmese Royal monopoly, the
hardwood extracted by elephants in Myanmar then became monopolized
for the British naval fleet. Till finally the wood was sold as
stock for the Bombay yacht club, and as such the value of the wood
and rewards had fallen, yet the timber was cut more than ever.

The elephants seemed to sense
Falstaff’s injured ribs, sniffing and wrapping the trunks around
him or snuffling in his coat. Although the elephants were simply
being playful and inquisitive, the prodding of the elephants
hurt.

“Oy! Careful my revolver’s in
there!” Falstaff cried out. “Do think he can smell the powder?”

Falstaff returned the elephant’s
gentle greeting, rubbing their trunks and scratching their enormous
heads, each one fumbling for their turn.

After they got away from the
curiosity of elephants, they carried on to the guest house.

“Do you think Mr. Robbins was
unfriendly?” Zam asked.

“He was in his way. I got the
impression he didn’t like the British much?”

“He spoke down to me? He wanted
not to recognise me as who I am?”

“He’s a Baptist, from Boston, an
American… no, that’s not fair. Boston is an excellent place? He’s a
missionary
, which means he is here to do what he wants. The
instructions for his mission were probably written in ignorance of
all these people and their history.” Falstaff said grumpily. “Blind
is a word that comes to mind.”

“Is it better to be English like
you?” Zam asked, wondering at the difference it made.

Falstaff waved the question aside
as he thought about what the pastor had said about the British, but
couldn’t gather what it meant, but he gathered the Pastor
considered his folk numerous, keen and progressive.

It was true that British
companies were alarmed by the influx of American missionaries. Back
in the day of the East India Company, they had ordered the
Judsons
35
to leave India and
return home. Instead, they travelled to Burma out of reach of the
colonial administration, labouring six years before baptising their
first convert in the Buddhist land.

An acrimonious relationship
between the British and the Burmese king was made worse by
missionary’s ambitions to spread their faith. Judson succeeded even
though he was imprisoned. He complied the first English-to-Burmese
dictionary, printed and distributed by the Calcutta Baptist Mission
of India.

Falstaff was still brooding and
trying to figure Robbins out when they arrived at the guest house.
They found that there were a number of new visitors. The quiet
house, run by the convert family, was suddenly bustling with
activity and talk.

Falstaff was introduced to the
visitors; U Chit Maung and Minami Masuyo, who both were
journalists. The third guest was Herman Gustav Trautmann, another
missionary. They were all there expecting to talk to Doctor
Robbins.

The Burmese housekeeper Mrs Mya
smiled, greeting them both warmly. “It is pleasant to see you Mr
Falstaff, er Miss Zam. You are much better. You will eat with us at
the table today. You’ll sitting down presently.”

Mrs Mya rushed away before
Falstaff could protest. Considering it, he realised it would only
be fair on Zam since she had eaten with the family and the guests
most nights while he had sat in bed being waited on.

Minami Masuyo
36
smiled and took
Falstaff’s hand. “Good evening, Falstaff-San?” He said in English
with heavy Japanese accent. “Your beautiful companion has told you
much about you. She has been most entertaining for the past couple
of days.”

Falstaff sat down at his place at
the table puzzled he looked at Zam Frowning. “Sorry, Zam, what all
this about? Didn’t you know? This guy’s Japanese?”

“A man of paper? No, he is a
Newspaperman? He told me he talks Burmese and Chinese?” Sensing
Falstaff’s alarm Zam gripped his arm tightly, suddenly taken with
fear that the Japanese were returning. “Is everything alright? We
are not in danger, di-di?”

“Not unless they intend to poison
us with a pleasant dinner?” Falstaff commented under his breath as
Trautmann rose to give thanks for the meal.

The missionary finished the
grace. “... and as the words of Jesus from Mathew always remind us;
these favours and blessings we ask in the name of Christ, our Great
Redeemer. Amen.”

Falstaff held his breath a beat
then turned to Zam, whispering out of the corner of his mouth.
“Didn’t you know? You never told me about another Jap?”

“I did not know, I was too bored
by all his questions, besides him there was only the housekeeper to
talk to or walk out with!”

Falstaff shrugged and looked
across the table at Minami.

“Perhaps, I can offer my business
card?” Minami stretched across the table. “Pardon me, he apologised
to his neighbour as he reached across the table.

Falstaff read the business card,
which he could only take a face value. He read it carefully then
neatly slipped it into his pocket. The Yomiuri
Shimbun
37
it had said which
was a successful newspaper with a significant circulation in Japan.
“I look forward to talking to you after dinner.”

Falstaff abruptly flushed with
anger. Had the Japanese reporter usurped him? Zam had said she’d
wanted to be alone with him, but instead this reporter had engaged
her? Engaged her with what, he gripped his knife tightly; it
rattled against the plate as his hand shook. Zam rested her hand on
his.

“What’s wrong?” She said.

“I’m sure it's nothing...”
Falstaff spoke his throat tight and hoarse; perhaps the smooth
talking Japanese reporter was more than that? He had to find
out.

Falstaff ate slowly; he wasn’t
enjoying the meal as much as he would if he were alone with Zam.
However, he could keep an eye on Zam and Minami.

Minami was over forty Falstaff
conjectured, dressed like a typical correspondent; a cheap, but
hard wearing suit and good shoes - he guessed. Zam had said he
spoke both Chinese and Burmese, which meant he was probably well
educated; if he actually did write for Yomiuri Shimbun He would
have to be. Falstaff surreptitiously watched him. Minami was
relaxed, friendly and appeared to know everyone at the table
well.

Falstaff suspiciously decided it
was too good to be true. So well educated and well-mannered and at
ease with the Burmese newspaper man. If he weren't already working
for the Imperial Japanese Army, Falstaff was sure he would be
soon.

U Chit Maung sat beside Minami.
Falstaff couldn’t be sure if they had all met before, but they were
in deep discussion in Burmese. A language that he had not acquired
an ear for. His time spent as a prisoner had been spent learning
the difference between Sino-Tibetan languages. He found, after a
month of repartition he had a knack for it. However, although the
initial consonants of many common words tended to be the same, the
place and manner of articulation was often unpredictable. Falstaff
had managed best with old Chinese, but for now speaking Burmese was
beyond him. He concentred with a serious face on what was being
said, if he could only deduce why they had all come to attend a
meeting with Pastor Robbins.

Maung was a younger man and had
brought his wife with him as an assistant, as she was also a
writer. She a keen and attentive woman Falstaff observed, dedicated
to her husband’s work if her prompting was anything to go by, her
name was Ma-Ma Lay.

Falstaff learnt that U Chit was
chief editor of the newspaper the ‘New Light of Burma’ since he was
twenty he’d worked as a writer, also volunteering as an assistant
editor on other papers or for his friends.

As the dinner pots were cleared
away, Minami invited Falstaff to join them for coffee. At this
point in the conversation, Falstaff was asked if he knew who Saya
San was. Falstaff had been wanting to get away or to talk to Minami
alone. But questions about the rebel leader piqued his
curiosity.

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