Mountain Tiger: Jim Colling Adventure Series, Book 5

Mountain Tiger

Copyright © 2011 Robert McCurdy

Smashwords Edition

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My thanks to my readers, who make it all worthwhile,

and especially to my wife, Margie,

for her advice and assistance.

The Jim Colling Adventure Series

Dog Robber

Rat Line

Ram’s Horn

White Eagle

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Prologue

July, 1952

Manchuria

The prison camp had been constructed by the Japanese twenty years previously, shortly after they had seized control of Manchuria. It had changed little in the intervening years. The Japanese had intended a certain permanency to the place, as evidenced by the corrugated sheet metal roofing and iron bars on the windows of the prison barracks. Most of the cluster of buildings were of one story, constructed of the brownish yellow brick commonly used in the region.

It was situated on one side of a broad valley surrounded by low hills. The local farmers had been displaced, leaving the surrounding fields to be worked by the prisoners to produce the camp’s food supply.

The quality of construction, and the relatively better accommodations for inmates seemed to confirm the rumor that the Japanese had reserved the place for an important class of prisoners.

The existence of certain rooms set aside as what could be construed as laboratories bore out the other rumor that the Japanese had conducted medical or other experiments, using the prisoners as subjects.

The place was now in the hands of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army. It had been turned over, along with the rest of Manchuria, to the PLA by the Russians, who had stepped in during the final days of World War II, just in time to accept the surrender of the Japanese forces in Manchuria.

The prison’s current commandant, Jiang Shu-ken, had received his assignment shortly after Russian victory was assured, and on his arrival in Manchuria, had been ordered by his superiors to assume control of the camp from the Soviet tank battalion that had captured the camp.

The Russians had found the prison compound littered with the bodies of prisoners executed by the retreating Japanese. Among them were the remains of those Japanese who had chosen suicide rather than the dishonor of surrender.

Most of the dead were Chinese, or at least Oriental, but the Russian battalion commander had reported to Jiang that a fair number were Caucasian. Any still wearing what appeared to be Russian uniforms had been segregated for identification and burial. The others had been consigned to a mass grave.

On the day that Jiang had arrived to take charge of the camp, the Russians were in the process of loading the camp’s files, along with anything else that could be moved, including the contents of the laboratories, onto their trucks.

So rapacious were the Soviets in their efforts that Jiang was convinced that the Russians would have absconded with the camp’s generator, if it had not been too heavy for any of their vehicles. Only Jiang’s forceful objections, suggesting a regrettable incident between Socialist allies, had dissuaded the Russian commander from returning with something sturdier with which to remove the device. Despite his best efforts, however, Jiang could not persuade the Russian officer to unload the materiel that had already been consigned for removal to the Soviet Union.

Despite the lingering shadow of that initial shortcoming, in looking back over the intervening six years, Jiang was convinced that, all-in-all, he had performed the responsibilities of his assignment well.

The buildings and grounds had been maintained in good repair. The prison inmates had been kept busy in the nearby fields, so that there was enough to feed both themselves and Jiang’s staff, with a little surplus which Jiang was able to use to his own advantage.

Jiang had carefully selected his subordinates, and over time, the guard detachment had come to be composed of long-term service veterans, not conscripts, and all of them were well disciplined, efficient and owed their loyalty to him personally.

The Japanese policy regarding the special status of those imprisoned in the camp had been continued by the People’s Liberation Army, and later, the People’s Republic. Within weeks after Jiang had assumed command, the camp’s population had begun to grow rapidly.

The victories of the PLA over the Nationalists meant that Jiang was soon receiving higher ranking military officers and civilian officials who had served Chiang Kai-shek’s government. More followed in a steady stream, even after Chiang had fled to Taiwan.

After all, the People’s Republic had no shortage of traitors and saboteurs, even from among the ranks of its own ruling Party.

Despite their former status, the inmates who came into Jiang’s charge were soon cowed into an appropriate subservient frame of mind, or liquidated. Attempts at escape were rare. The few prisoners who were foolish enough to try to run away were quickly recaptured, and the manner of their execution was such as to provide an unpleasant example to the rest of the camp’s inmates.

From time to time, certain of his charges were able to convince the political officers who visited periodically for the purpose of conducting interrogations, that they had foresworn their misguided ways, and Jiang was ordered to release them into the officers’ custody. Jiang also received spontaneous and somewhat mysterious directives to release a few individuals who were apparently fortunate enough to have found favor or influence with someone in Beijing.

The great majority of the inmates who managed to survive the conditions in the camp for any significant period of time were periodically disposed of by Jiang, after he had sought and received approval to do so. Jiang felt a certain sense of special satisfaction in the efficiency with which he approached this particular responsibility.

From time to time in the first two or three years, a few Caucasian prisoners would arrive, usually British or American missionaries, or other trouble-makers. Lately, since the People’s Republic had gone to the aid of its Korean comrades, there had been a marked increase in the number of Americans and Europeans brought to the camp.

Beijing’s policy in the past had always been to hold Western foreigners, as they might prove to have political or propaganda value. To his chagrin, Jiang was not always able to adhere to policy, as many of the Westerners could not survive living conditions which would be accepted by ordinary Chinese. And, of course, suicide was always a problem.

The American and United Nations prisoners of war presented an entirely different set of directives from Beijing. When the first contingent had reached the camp, Jiang had been informed by his superiors that his new charges had been specially selected from among the many POW’s coming into the hands of the People’s Liberation Army, and were to be accorded a special status regarding their treatment.

He was instructed that their survival was paramount, and any lackadaisical attitude involving their care would not be tolerated. Jiang’s innate disdain for foreign devils, which included even their allies, the Russians, was instantly at odds with the directive, but he made it a point to conceal his attitude, lest he be found unfit for his responsibilities.

A few days before the first American prisoners of war reached the camp, a detachment of Chinese arrived. Despite the policy of the People’s Liberation Army that decreed that there were to be no military rank designations, these men clearly held themselves superior to common soldiers such as Jiang and his men.

The one in charge, a sour-tempered individual by the name of Kung, reiterated the directives that Jiang had previously received regarding the care and treatment of the Americans. He followed that by using an English phrase, psychological redirection specialists to describe the nature of the work they would be performing with the POW’s.

When Jiang indicated that he did not understand English, Kung informed him that a rough Chinese equivalent would be mind-specialists, and that he and his men should be addressed as Specialists to show proper respect.

Kung went on to make it clear that the Specialists would have primary charge of the POW’s, and that the role of Jiang’s men would be confined to providing guards and food. After this first encounter, Jiang seldom encountered Kung or his subordinates, except at a distance, a circumstance for which Jiang was extremely grateful.

The Specialists isolated the Americans in a separate cell block, and whatever it was that they did in dealing with the minds of the prisoners was not disclosed to Jiang. As new American prisoners were brought to the camp, they were put under the charge of the Specialists.

Usually Jiang avoided speculating about the actions and motives of those above him, but he made some discrete inquiries and it was whispered to him that mind-specialists were involved in something called re-education, a term which Jiang had not heard previously.

Standing on the covered verandah that ran the length of the front of the headquarters building, enjoying the summer morning, Jiang’s thoughts drifted, as they had since Kung’s arrival, to whether the work of the Specialists would have an effect on the operation of the camp.

He had served faithfully through five winters in this place. The sixth would arrive sooner than he would have wished, and while the July days were warm and sunny, they would not last. He was pleased to see that the fields that provided the camp’s food supply were being dutifully worked by gangs of prisoners. The fields of barley and maize were bountiful, and the melons, potatoes and vegetables were growing large.

There would be a surplus to sell in the local market, and enough potatoes to insure that the still hidden in one of the out-buildings would produce a sizeable quantity of spirits for himself and his men, with enough left over to bring in to trade for tobacco and other luxuries.

Other men of his age and achievement might have yearned to return to their ancestral homes, but Jiang was well-pleased with his situation. His quarters were comfortable, some might even say luxurious, by Chinese standards. He was well fed, having not only the pick of the prison’s produce and any rations sent from the provincial capital, Shenyang, but having his meals prepared by a prisoner who had once been a chef in a restaurant in Shanghai.

Two of the inmates were skilled tailors who provided him with fine uniforms. Jiang wore the high-collared style favored by Chairman Mao, instead of the simple quilted cotton that he had worn while in the hills fighting the Japanese.

He also had a liking for footwear which he believed added to his military bearing. The usual cotton slippers or rubber-soled canvas shoes were good enough for his men, but he deserved better.

Fortunately, a cobbler, a Jewish refugee, had been sent to the camp in ’49, and Jiang had quickly recognized his potential. The man’s Chinese was deplorable, but his erudition in discerning Jiang’s requirements was profound, leading to his producing felt boots of high quality.

The Jew had even fashioned a riding crop which Jiang kept tucked under his arm whenever he happened to stroll out-of-doors.

As far as female companionship was concerned, things had proven more than satisfactory. At the beginning, he had had his pick of Chinese women of formerly high station, but later, there was a blonde White Russian female who was particularly skilled in the techniques of the bed.

More recently, Korean girls of particular beauty had been sent to the camp. An old friend from his days campaigning with Chairman Mao, who was presently serving in Korea, made it a point to see that any such finds were transported into Jiang’s custody.

When he tired of them, and a favorable replacement became available, Jiang’s practice was to send his discarded companions to his subordinate officers. Eventually, the women would end up serving the lower-ranking guards.

The Russian blonde had proven an exception, of sorts. Jiang had given her to his second-in-command, Wen Li, and the foolish man had apparently fallen in love with her.

Even though Jiang had refused Wen Li’s request to marry, the white woman continued to share the man’s quarters after more than two years. A child had resulted, and Jiang wondered how long it would be before another was on the way. There would be nothing but trouble for Wen Li if he were assigned to duty elsewhere.

All in all, thought Jiang, I am fortunate to have been given this posting, as are my men. Our lives would be much altered for the worse, if each day, we were under the eye, and the thumb, of some officious, busy-body, superior officer.

The warmth of the day was increasing, reminding Jiang that the cool interior of the headquarters would be more comfortable. Slapping the side of his boot with his riding crop, he turned on his heel and entered the headquarters.

Fen Chao, Jiang’s adjutant and aide, snapped to attention as Jiang stepped through the door. Fen was a fairly recent arrival, having replaced a series of prisoners whom Jiang had used as readers and scribes in the past.

Jiang, in spite of his position, had only limited competency when it came to written Chinese. As a result, his feelings about Fen were mixed. On the one hand, he appreciated the man’s literacy, as well as his apparent efficiency, but he was uneasy that Fen might be harboring feelings of intellectual superiority which might lead to denunciation.

So far, Fen had shown only the greatest respect towards his superior, but Jiang’s confidence in him did not match that which Jiang had for the other men under his command. Even though Fen had displayed no outward signs of overly-enthusiastic devotion to Chairman Mao or the Party apparatus, Jiang remained wary of the young man.

If Fen were a spy sent from Shenyang or Beijing, any reports he might make about Jiang’s management of the camp would undoubtedly include descriptions of his commander’s style of living.

Fen briskly announced, Comrade Jiang, a communiqué from the Bureau of Internal Affairs in Beijing was among the mail which arrived yesterday. I have just this moment opened and read it.

Jiang motioned for Fen to sit, and asked, And what might this communiqué say?

Comrade Commander, you are advised that arrangements have been made for Russian KGB officers to visit the camp.

For what purpose are we invaded by the round-eye-big-noses? And what is this ‘KGB’ business?

Comrade Commander, the ‘KGB’ is the state security service of the Soviet Union. The reason for their visit is not stated.

When are they expected? asked Jiang.

It is not certain, Comrade Commander. The letter states only that we are to extend the utmost courtesy when they arrive. The usual way of things is that perhaps several weeks, or even months, may elapse before we see them.

Hmmph! So be it, replied Jiang, annoyed at his subordinate’s venturing to suggest that his superior did not know the usual way of doing things, Have you completed the daily report?

Yes, Comrade Commander.

Then bring it to my office so that I may be informed.

Jiang seated himself behind his desk and when Fen came back with his arms full of ledgers and papers, he directed him to take the chair opposite. Jiang pointed to the sheaf of papers in Fen’s hands, and said, How many of my men are absent from their duties because of sickness?

Two only, Comrade Commander, and not from sickness, but from injury. Soldiers Cho number three and Shen-yin were supervising prisoners repairing the water pump when a pipe broke loose and struck their heads.

Have the prisoners responsible been identified?

It is difficult, Comrade Commander. Both Cho and Shen-yin avow that it was only an accident, which was unexpected and unavoidable. The prisoners present immediately came to their assistance.

"Someone must be punished. Have Second Officer Wen Li select two prisoners to be flogged. I am certain he knows of at least two who require a good lashing, even if they were nowhere near the water pump.

If Cho and Shen-yin are not too badly hurt, the application of the whip can be minimal and unenthusiastic.

Yes, Comrade Commander, said Fen, making a note.

And speaking of the prisoners, how many have died since yesterday?

None, Comrade Commander.

Jiang nodded his head, trying to display an air of wisdom born of long experience, That is good. Sick?

Twenty-four are reported to display the symptoms of the influenza.

Does the disease appear to be serious?

Fen consulted his report, No, Comrade Commander. All were able to attend to their assigned work duties without difficulty.

Jiang flared, rising from his chair and leaning forward, Then why are they reported as being sick, Comrade Fen?

Fen stuttered, Be...be...because, Comrade Commander, it is so ordered by regulations. All symptoms of sickness must be noted.

And I suppose that this noting has been done by the illustrious doctor?

Fen hesitated, apparently trying to decide whether responding affirmatively would mean that he would be agreeing with the adjective illustrious, as well.

He decided to couch his response with as much caution as possible, Comrade Commander, the doctor has reported this illness, and its extent.

Jiang dropped into his chair and waved his hand dismissively, It is of little import. Is there anything else of interest that I should know?

Nothing appears to be out of the ordinary, Comrade Commander.

Then go. And have a pot of tea brought to me.

As he waited for his tea, Jiang leaned back in his chair and contemplated the problems that the arrival of the Russians would bring. He would have to find quarters for them, unless the Specialists were willing to share theirs.

That would involve communicating with Kung, and the consequent loss of face in having to humble himself to request a place to house the Russians.

Moreover, once the big-noses arrived, he would be expected to display an air of courtesy and respect to a race of people for which he had only contempt.

And there was always the risk that their foreign meddling would result in some sort of report filled with criticism of his methods or worse, the extent of the privileges which he was enjoying.

Fen brought the tea and poured a cup for Jiang before departing. As he sipped the hot liquid, Jiang consoled himself that he would have some time to decide how to deal with this unpleasant development.

Chapter 1

March, 1952

Four months earlier

Less than a week had passed since First Lieutenant James Colling had received orders transferring him to combat duty in Korea. Air transportation had been provided to Fort Lewis, Washington, one of the transit points for troops headed for the Police Action currently underway on the Korean peninsula.

The rapidity of his departure from his former assignment in Germany reflected the urgency with which his superiors in the CIA wanted him out of Germany and, undoubtedly, into harm’s way.

Nevertheless, Colling had to admit that, as an act of retribution, sending him up to the 38th Parallel as an infantry officer was efficient in both its conception and execution.

The orders he was given assigned him to the 7th Infantry Division, but there was no indication of what unit he would serve in within the division. Colling could only assume that it would be one of its three infantry regiments.

Particularly annoying was the absence of an Army Post Office mailing address, leaving him unable to let Veronika and his parents know where they might write to him.

Immediately after Colling’s arrival at Fort Lewis, there had been an hour devoted to processing his paperwork. The next stop was the quartermaster store, where Colling signed for dark green fatigue uniforms and combat boots, the cost of which would be withheld from his pay.

In keeping with the rapidity which was attached to his deployment to Korea, there was only enough time to eat dinner and make a visit to a nearby PX before he was informed that he should prepare to depart.

Burdened by both the B-Four bag that he had been carrying on his arrival at Fort Lewis, as well as the duffel bag holding his new gear, Colling boarded a bus with about two dozen other junior officers, and was driven to McChord Air Base.

The aircraft that was to fly them to Korea was one of the new Globemasters. Colling and about thirty other officers were accorded the privilege of embarking first. Despite the fact that he had read news articles about the huge transports and seen pictures of them, Colling was astounded at how big it actually was.

In contrast to his previous experience with travel by military aircraft, this time his luggage had been tagged and stowed somewhere in the plane’s hold. Before turning over his B-Four bag, Colling removed a portfolio holding his writing materials, as well as some magazines and paperback books he had not had an opportunity to read during his journey from Germany.

The size of the passenger compartment was impressive. Colling had made a quick count of seats as he made his way up the center aisle, and estimated that the plane would seem to have room for nearly 200 passengers.

Another feature Colling had not run into regarding military air transport in the past was the presence of women in Air Force uniforms acting as stewardesses. He found himself mentally referring to them as WACs, when he recalled that the Air Force called its female members WAFs.

One of them directed him towards the front of the plane, and Colling found a seat next to a window and settled in for what he assumed would be a long flight.

Once the seats to the front of the plane had been filled with the officers, the process of bringing aboard the enlisted passengers began. He found himself growing restless as they remained on the ground while the WAFs directed the incoming soldiers to their seats. As this also involved the women fending off suggestive remarks, and denying requests for alcoholic beverages, the procedure was, in Colling’s opinion, an unduly protracted one.

When it appeared that everyone who was supposed to be on board was accounted for, the hatches were secured with a bang. A series of high-pitched whines, followed in turn by coughing roars signaled the four engines coming to life. Once all were running, the usual pre-flight revving and idling was repeated until a certain level of pilot satisfaction appeared to have been reached.

A few moments later, Colling felt the plane begin to move, and after some turns, Colling could see that they were lined up on a runway. With the engines at full throttle, the Globemaster began racing forward, and at last lumbered into the air.

When they reached altitude, Colling took out his portfolio and composed a letter to his wife and another to his parents. There was little in the way of news, and they were taken up primarily with how much he missed them. When he had finished, he tucked the envelopes away in his portfolio, in anticipation of being able to mail them when he reached Japan or Korea.

He had bought a Korean phrase book from the PX at Fort Lewis. He leafed through it, hoping that it would prove useful in giving him a grasp of enough