A BUNDLE of SILENCES

"Any historical narrative is a bundle of silences." – Anthropologist Michel Rolph Trouillot1

****2

Silence.3

Silence, deep, lonely and foreboding. The village was silent. The Taklamakan was silent. 4

It was only a small village, dependant on an oasis seasonally recharged by an intermittent stream coming down into the desert from the mountains to the north. The stream had changed course twice in recent memory.5

The man sat on a stool before his cold hearth. He had been sitting there, unmoving, since morning. It was fully dark now. His head was in his hands. He had never been so weary, so empty, and so forlorn. He silently cursed his gods.6

The traders had come from Qäshqär for their seasonal trading, and had been welcomed. The oasis was alive with sounds of life. The village had buzzed with conversations, animal noises, children playing, men bagaining, and women chatting. But after two days some of the traders became ill. The shaman was called, and performed his rituals; to no avail. Within a few days villagers were sickening also, and two of the traders were already dead.7

The burials began. Rituals were followed. Then villagers began to die. The shaman among them. Grief and confusion drove the villagers to kill the remaining traiders; a total breach of traditional hospitality. It did not stop the dying. The burials continued, escalated, outstripped the ability of the village to fulfill all the rituals, and began to exhaust resources.8

Finally, he was the only one left. His tall frame was bent under the physical and emotional strain of seeing friends and family die. His red hair and beard were quickly turning grey. His blue eyes were continually bloodshot from weeping. Viral disease and contagion were an unknown concept to the villagers. To them, mass death by mysterious causes meant an act of the gods, of angry spirits, of contravention of some taboo. With the shaman dead there had been no remedy, no undrstanding of it, and no surcease.9

He was showing the signs of illness now. He knew he was doomed. In dispair he lit a torch and left his empty home burning behind him. From house to house he went, setting the village alight. As the fires consumed the furnishings, the timber-framed wattle-and-mud dwellings began to collapse. The camels were panicked by the fires, and they bolted when he released them from their tethers. The sheep and goats he left to wander away in search of pasture. The village of the dead was now dead itself.10

Putting the burning village behind him, the grieving villager staggered into the desert night, into the Taklamatan; into the silences.11

In time the winds brought sand, and covered the remains of the village and the large mound that held almost one hundred and twenty bodies.12

***13

The veteran Douglas “Skytrain” had clawed its way out of western Punjab [very soon to become “Pakistan”] over the deadly mountains, and now winged down towards the Tarim Basin and the city of Kashgar. A silver, green and white logo gleamed on the rudder in the mid-day sun. Across the sides of the fuselage ANGLO-CATHAY GEOCHEMICAL was stenciled in large black letters. The plane held four employees of Anglo-Cathay, and most of their gear for a six-month preliminary geological survey.14

The fields around Kashgar were verdant compaired to the baren and hostile mountains over whixh they;d flown. The city, with its many fields, outlying villages, and web of dirt roads, lay spread out below; with the snowcapped Tien Shen Mountains as a backdrop. The whole scene looked disarmingly peaceful to ‘Sandy’ Sunderland, the Canadian-born pilot and geologist. From what he’d heard, it was anything but peaceful. Beside him engineer ‘Chilly’ Chillingworth got up and made his way back into the cargo compartment to alert ‘Jacko’ Miller and ‘Smilie’ Symes that they’d be landing soon. The two men had already turned off their oxygen masks when Sandy had begun the descent into Kashgar, and fastened their seatbelts in the minimalist passenger seating, so Chilly returned to the cockpit.15

“Gear down. Flaps fifteen,” Sandy ordered. 16

“Gear down, flaps fifteen,” Chilly responded as his hands moved over the controls. The rumble of the landing gear was palpable. Sandy eased the throttles back until the aircraft began to settle towards the grass landing field. The windsock on the field was standing straight out, and Sandy turned into the wind and gave a little boost to the throttles to compensate. Better to come in a little fast, and use up the entire field, than to have mushy controls and dangerous turbulence. He eased the plane down, and they bumped their way across the uneven ground. A small herd of camels, grazing on a corner of the landing field, bolted at their arrival, fortunately in the opposite direction.17

A beat-up GAZ-AA ‘Polutorka’ pulled out on to the field and drove up to the taxiing Skytrain. Its dusty wooden doors, once painted white, were inscribed ‘Anglo-Cathay’ in fading green letters. The driver waved them to follow, and set off again across the grass. Sandy applied more taxiing power, and trundled after the venerable Russian pickup. On the far side of the field, near a cluster of shabby hangers and equally shabby buildings stood several other trucks of various descriptions, and an old Ford sedan. Three groups of people stood waiting. A group of two contained a European, and a Han in some sort of uniform. A little apart from them stood a group of armed soldiers in Kuomintang summer-green uniforms and black coal-scuttle helmets. Lastly, and closest to the trucks, were four Uyghurs in traditional clothing, mustaches and white skullcaps.18

The Polutorka pulled up near the other trucks, the passenger got out, and motioned for the plane to taxi close to the trucks, with its cargo doors towards them. He then made the ‘cut engines’ signal to the pilot and walked over to the European and Han official. The official nodded to the soldiers, who then surrounded the aircraft in a loose circle facing outwards. “Jacko” Miller and “Smilie” Symes opened the cargo doors and lowered the steps. Jacko tossed out the foursome’s personal kit bags to Smilie. Sandy, carrying a worn leather briedfcase,exited with Chilly and Jacko, and walked towards the nearest group. 19

“Hello, I’m David Sunderland,” Sandy said, extending a hand to the man who’d waved them in, “and these are Robert Chillingworth, Jacko Miller and Smilie Symes.” 20

“I’m Patrick O’Connor, your Anglo-Cathay agent. And this is Mr. Morrison, from the British consulate.” They shook hands all round. “And this,” introduced the consular official, “is Captain Ping, the Kuomintang Customs officer.” The captain gave a formal smile as the consular officer made introductions in Chinese.21

“If you will supply me with the cargo manifest Mr. Sunderland,” O’Connor requested, “then Captain Ping and I can check out your load.” 22

Sandy reached into the briefcase and extracted a shief of papers. “In triplicate, as per instructions,” he smiled.23

“Fine, thanks.” O’Connor spoke to the Kuomintang official and they walked over to the aircraft to begin the customs search of the drilling equipment.24

“If you gentlemen would be so kind as to accompany me,” requested Morrison, “we can begin the imigration process. Please be exceedingly patient and on your best behaviour. Things are a little brittle here in Kashgar at the moment.”25

“Gottcha,” replied Sandy on behalf of the foursome. Looking back at the armed guards around the plane, under his breath he said to Chilly, “Looks like ‘Terry and the Pirates’ to me.” Chillingworth nodded knowingly.26

The group entered the one storey cement block ‘airport’ building. There were three offices off of a small central waiting room. The signage was in both Cyrilic and Chinese scripts. The main room smelled of stale tobacco smoke, Asian food, and something cloyingly sweet that Sandy could not immediately identify. Again Morrison cautioned patience and reserve; then knocked on the door of the furthest office. A voice in Chinese answered, and Morrison opened the door and entered alone. A brief conversation ensued, and then he came out and ushered the Anglo-Cathay foursome in to the office.27

In the far corner sat a Eurasian man in his late forties, dressed in a dark leather coat and cavalry trowsers. He neither rose nor spoke, but simply eyed the group malignantly. Behind a desk sat an elderly Chinese man in a non-descript uniform, and wearing the insignia of a major. His eyes looked clouded and dazed. Sandy noticed that cloying scent again. “Dope” he thought to himself.28

The Chinese officer spoke and Morrison translated, “Your passports and papers, please.”29

The four men dug their documents out of their pockets and handed them over. The officer took an age to look them over, and then passed them silently to the man in the corner. He took out a note pad and recorded their details, then passed them back to the officer.30

In what sounded like an accusatory tone the Chinese official began to question the group; their intentions, from where they took off, how long they’d stay, where they intended to survey, how long they’d worked for Anglo-Cathay, etc.,etc. The questions, put in a flat monotone, went round and round, seemingly without rhyme or reason. Occassionally the man in the chair spoke to the official, in what Sandy took to be Russian, and the official went off on a new tangent of questions. 31

It didn’t take Sandy long to see why Morrison had cautioned patience and good manners. This interrogation seemed designed to annoy and harrass. Finally the official made a longwinded speech, which Morrison tried vainly to translate coherently. Then the official made a gesture to Morrison. He reached into his coat pocket and handed over a fat envelop; and envelop with an Anglo-Cathay logo on it. Then, and only then did the official stamp each passport and travel document. The whole process had taken nearly two hours.32

A dismissive wave and Morrison ushered the group out of the office. “What…,” a thoroughly annoyed Chilly began to ask.33

“Sshh. Now yet,” Morrison cautioned in a hushed voice. Only when they were outside and well away from the building did he explain. “That was all for show. The real business was the “landing fee”; the bribe I had to pay on Anglo-Cathay’s behalf. That, and to allow that Russian agent to get a good look at you and to take down your details.”34

“Russian? I thought this was China,” Smilie interjected.35

Morrison saw that Captain Ping and Mr. O’Connor were standing by the cargo doors waiting for them. As they walked over they were joined by the officer of the Kuomintang guards, another captain. Only this one was tall, blond and looked about fifty, wearing a peaked officer’s cap and Sam Brown belt, complete with holstered pistol. When they had all gathered, O’Connor said, “May I introduce Captain Serge Bedmedev of the Kuomintang’s National Revolutionary Army.” The captain clicked his heels formally and gave a slight bow, and responded to the introduction in Russian. “The captain has been assigned to provide an escort to your survey team.” Sandy took the information in, looked at O’Connor, and held his peace until a more appropriate time.36

“Captain Ping has authorised the unloading of your equipment Mr. Sunderland.” Ping gave a slight bow and left for the airport offics. O’Connor waved his hand and the men that had been sitting around the trucks all these hours ambled over. The tallest of the group came up and stood beside O’Connor. “Fellows, this is Ibrahim, your guide and translator.”37

“Ässalamu läykum, gentlemen. I am pleased to be meeting you. We will work well together, yes?” His English had a Russian accent to it, and his features were more Eurasian than that of the two plainly Uyghur men with him. “These are my assistants, Adil and Yumur.” The two men smiled at the mention of their names. “They work hard to make your camp good.” 38

Sandy reached across to shake Ibrahim’s hand. “Wä'äläykum ässalam,” he said in what sounded more like Karachi pidgin-English than anything approaching Uyghur. “These men are Chilly, Smilie and Jacko,” he motioned by way of introduction.39

“Sandy, if you wish to take over now, you can supervise the unloading of the drilling equipment. Just give your orders through Ibrahim. He speaks Uyghur, Russian and Chinese, as well as English.”40

“OK. Ibrahim, would you have Adil and Yumur bring the trucks up to the cargo doors and we’ll start unloading. We will help also. Mr. O’Connor, will you be staying around?”41

“It’s Pat, Sandy. And, yes, Mr. Morrison and I have to stay until you leave the field.” He then went on to explain the unloading to Captain Bedmedev, who then walked off to the office building. 42

Three hours had already elapsed since landing. Unloading the heavy and awkward crates now took another three hours. Ibrahim, Yumur and Adil took time out for their late afternoon prayers, while the Anglo-Cathay foursome chocked the wheels, tied tarpaulins over the engines ans swept out the cargo bay. Half the Kuomintang guards stayed with the aircraft, The rest boarded their transport. When the trucks were all loaded, and the aircraft bedded down and locked up, the convoy set off. 43

In the approaching dusk the foursome couldn’t make out many details of the surroundings. Only that they were traveling past the fields and trees they’d overflown earlier. Several kilometers short of Kashgar, after O’Connor unlocked and opened the gates, the convoy pulled into a walled courtyard. The car parked just inside the gate, blocking the entrance. The courtyard was spacious enough for the four trucks. A four room house stood back from the courtyard. And, as they were to learn shortly, a series of outbuildings stood behind the house. All surrounded by a mudbrick wall.44

Ibrahim, Adil and Yumur were quickly out of the trucks and into the house. Lamps were lit. Then Ibrahim came out, spoke to Captain Bedmedev in Russian, and led the troops around the side of the house to the rear buildings. Morrison gave his farewells and drove off. O’connor closed the wooden gates and locked them, and then explained the setup as the foursome unloaded their kit, “I hired this villa as our Anglo-Cathay HQ. There are servants’ quarters and a kitchen in buildings out back. Ibrahim and his crew will bed down in one building. Captain Bedmedev’s soldiers will take another. Ibrahim’s crew are in charge of feeding us all. We’ll bed down in the house. It isn’t the greatest, but does boast some antique Imperial Russian indoor plumbing.”45

“OK by us,” Sandy agreed for all of them. 46

“Oh! And don’t drink the water unless it’s been boiled!” O’Connor warned as he opened the door.47

The plain whitewashed, flatroofed exterior gave no clue to the comfortable russified interior. Khazak rugs warmed the wooden floor. The overstuffed leather furniture in the main room was obviously pre-revolutionary. Several oil lamps hung from the ceiling, giving adequate light to the room. The walls were painted light beige with blue trim. The doorframes were unpainted wood carved with Russian scrollwork. Off this sittingroom was a dinningroom with ornate wooden chairs seating six at a massive wooden table. As in the sittingroom, Russian iconography adorned the walls.48

“Very cozy,” Smilie observed.49

“There are two bedrooms,” O’Connor explained, “left and right off this hallway. Asian-style, pallices on a raised brick platform, with heating for our cold nights. Loo at the end of the hall on the left. Bathroom on the right. Have to heat your own water for a bath; camel dung for fuel out back. Split yourslves up, and choose a bedroom. We’ll be here for as many days as it takes to assmble and mount the drillrig you brought. Supper will be Uyghur bread and beans, and lots of hot tea. Best get used to it now.”50

“Can’t be worse than iron rations,” observd Chilly dryly. 51

****52

The next few days settled into a routine, as Sandy, Chilly, Jacko and Smilie unpacked the crates and began assembling the multi-combination drilling rig and its diesel powerplant. Sandy, as geologist, sorted out and triple-checked all the lab equipment, and supplies. Chilly, and his off-siders, Jacko and Smilie, altered the war-surplus long-bed GMC - CCKW353 to fit the drill rig. The Kuomintang troops kept a loose guard outside the gates. Ibrahim, Adil and Yumur kept the food and tea coming. O’Connor was gone for a day, making final arrangements for the delivery of the drums of diesel and jerry-cans of petrol. 53

When the drill team was satisfied with the assembly of the rig, the two mechanics-*bunny*-drivers started tuning up the two one-and-a-half ton Chevy trucks and the GMC ‘deuce-and-a-half’. Though not pleased with the decision, after a three-way discussion with Ibrahim and Captain Bedmedev and themselves, they left the maintenance of the Kuomintang GAZ troop carrier to the White Russians.54

“Hope it lasts the season,” Jacko crabbed to ‘Chilly’ Chillingworth.55

“Not bloody likely,” spat the Liverpudlian. “Like as not we’ll be saving their bacon some’ers along the line. Cinch there’s no abundance o’ spare parts in this paradise.”56

****57

Evenings were spent in planning; agreeing on routes, regional surveys and potential drill sites. Maps were rudimentary. They would have to rely on Inbrahim, Adil and Yumum for local knowledge, as well as Sandy’s astro-naivgation skills. Captain Bedmedev ate with the Anglo-Cathay crew, and while he rarely spoke, seemed to understand a good deal of English.58

The drill rig, lubricants and drums of diesel went on the ‘deuce-and-a-half’, with its 5,000 pound load capacity. Drill pipe went on a one and half tonner. Supplies went on the third Chevy. The five Kuomintang packed their own vehicle to overflowing; mostly with supplies purchased at Kashgar’s massive outdoor market.59

“They plan to do some trading along the way,” explained Ibrahim to Sandy when he asked about the excess load. “It is much more profitable than the wages they often don’t receive from the Kuomintang government.”60

Anglo-Cathay’s exploration tenement lay to the northeast, along the edge of the Tien Shan Mountains, between the village of Sanchakou and the town of Aksu, and into the desert along the intermittent route of the Tarim River. The team would do a regional survey of stream sediments, of any outcrops in the foothills, and drill a ‘Zed’ pattern of core samples across the tenement. Sandy and O’Connor settled on seven possible base camps at which to drill, and from which to search out adjacent alluvia. 61

Sandy and Ibrahim took the lead in the 6x6, with Chilly and Jacko in the second truck, and Smilie in the third Anglo-Cathay truck. Adil and Yumun sat atop supplies in the back of the third truck, when not alternating the driving with the two Brits. In the rear of the convoy, Captain Bedmedev sat in the cab of his GAZ, with various of the three soldiers alternating as drivers, while the other two ‘guarded’ their trade goods.62

Just after dawn, and the Uyghur’s morning prayers, the overloaded convoy set off along the caravan road towards Aksu. The Tien Shan chain towered to their left as they passed through the fertile irrigated lands around Kashgar. Grain and rice, fruit trees and fields of vegetables surrounded the oasis of the Old and New towns of Kashgar. The dust and morning noises rose from the two towns as the trucks rumbled past the truly ancient island of urbanisation. Turning on to the Old Silk Road they began the long trek east towards their first base camp.63

Several hours of slow, grinding driving along the unpaved, washboard track eventually put the irrigated fields behind. Mudbrick villages began to give way to give way to clusters of Yurts. “These Yurts,” Ibraham commented to Sandy, “are Khazaks. They are nomads more than Uyghurs. Uyghurs like towns and market places. Khazaks like caravans and trading, and herding their flocks. Mostly we will see Khazaks along the road. If you hit an animal, or a child, do not stop! Keep driving! If you stop, they will seek to kill you. Drive till I tell you to stop, then we will bargain with those who follow, and settle on a price for the animal, or life.”64

Sandy nodded soberly. “You’d best explain that to the others when we stop next.”65

***66

Motorised traffic was minimal. A few overloaded GAZ trucks past them going west late in the afternoon. Mostly there were plodding caravans of camels or donkeys going east or west. The trucks, though only traveling at around 40 kilometers per hour left these caravans in swirling clouds of dust. Eventually, as the convoy approached another of the seemingly random clutch of yurts, Ibrahim announced to Sandy, “We camp here tonight. Pull off road and park together.”67

Sandy did as instructed, hand signalling the others to pull their vehicles into an open square about fourhundred meters from the yurts. Adil and Yumur immediately started to gather dry camel dung for a cook-fire. The survey team offloaded a tent and began errecting it. Out of their kit bags they pulled cardigans against the coming evening cold. In the interim, Ibrahim, to do the translating, along with the White Russian mercenaries, had walked over to the yurts and begun bargaining. They returned with a skinned kid for roasting, and some potent sour mare’s milk. Then Ibrahim joined his men by the fire.68

The soldiers started their own fire, and soon had the kid roasting on a skewer, while passing around the drink. After pouring some of his Vodka into their drink, the Captain sat by himself on a canvas stool, drinking from his bottle. Sandy and his three companions sat on heir own camp stools near their fire, nursing tins of tea laced with some whiskey. Ibrahim and his two men went off for their final prayers while a stew was cooking at the side of their fire.69

“Another day’s driving should see us at the village of Sanchakou. I’ll do a star shoot tonight and a noon shoot tomorrow. That and the milage will give us a proper fix for our log. That, and Ibrahim’s own sense of direction.”70

While the stew cooked, the men scaled out some of the strictly rationed water and had basic ablutions, then made up their sleeping bags in the tent. Jack and Smilie went and checked tyres, oil, water and fuel in each truck, less the Russian one, to make sure the vehicles were ready for the morrow.71

Uyghur food was an acquired taste, but after a week their tastebuds were becoming acclimated. “Not Indian, not Chinese,” observed Smilie as he reached to ladle himself some more, “but I kinda’ like it.”72

“We had plenty of Indian tucker in RAF Air Transport Command,” commented Sandy.73

“My wife won’t cook anything else now,” mused Chilly.74

The rest of the meal centred on the lack of wireless reception for the BBC broadcasts of the season’s cricket games. “Maybe I can gerryrig an arial when we set up our first base camp,” Jack suggested. 75

After dinner Sandy drifted over to the Russian Captain, taking a bottle of whiskey with him. The captain had put on a full-length Astrakan coat and hat against the growing chill, and was nursing his own everpresent bottle of vodka. “Drink?” Sandy asked, holding out his pint. 76

“Da,” answered the officer; holding out his vodka to Sandy. They each took a complementary slug of the other’s poison, and handed their respective bottles back. “It will be cold tonight,” the Russian observed. “Vodka good for cold.”77

“Where will you sleep tonight?” Sandy enquired.78

“Guard duty. Sleep in truck. No tent when drive.”79

“OK. Good night.” 80

The Russian-born officer said something that sounded like “kaptia nashta,” which Sandy took to mean ‘good night’. The Russian stood and wandered off to see to the guard. Sandy returned to the tent. Along the way he observed that Ibrahim, Adil and Yumur had snuggled under furs on the supply truck.81

***82

Another day’s travel, a copy of the first, saw them pass more caravans. Around noon a convoy of two Koumintang GAZ trucks, loaded with soldiers, all Chinese, passed them going west. They waved, but made no attempt to stop. “Patrol,” observed Ibrahim. “Back and forth, looking for bandits, Khazaks rebels, and Communists. Once we make base camp we must keep good watch.”83

During the mid-afternoon stop, Sandy told his crew to start wearing their Webleys; and making sure their Enfields were by their cots each night from now on. 84

“Expecting trouble?” Chilly querried. 85

“Chinese civil war, Soviet spies everywhere, Indians and Pakistanis at loggerheads, Khazaks in rebellion up north. No. No danger. Walk in the park. I shouldn’t wonder if both our guards and our camp crew are on one side or another.”86

“Plus their own,” quipped Chilly dryly. 87

“Expect it, surely.” 88

***89

The grasslands rolled on eastward. Yurts and micro villages dotted the springtime landscape. Even the snowcapped mountains on their left were green on their lower slopes. They wound their way through low foothills, and forded an ocassional snowmelt stream, where Sandy habitually stopped to look at the alluvian gravel. At one fording they topped up their water drums.90

“Should be some useful metals in the hills,” he observed to Chilly during one fording. I found some indications of nickel and magnesium here.”91

“Sanchakou ahead,” Ibrahim announced as they crested a small hill. “We make camp on the east side of village, six verst. You start survey close by I think.”92

Even with Ibrahim sharing the driving, Sandy would be glad to make a semi-permanent camp.93

“How far is 6 verst?”94

“About 7 kilometers.”95

“Just on 4 miles then,” Sandy mused. I think we’ll camp at the first stream after the 10 mile mark, Ibrahim. I want to make sure we are well inside our tenement.”96

“OK,” remarked Ibrahim. He did not look ‘ok’, but Sandy missed the visual cues. “We need to stop at village market. And my men wish to go to mosque for prayers before they spend so much days in camp.”97

Sandy pondered that request for a while. “As long as we still have daylight to drive and make camp.”98

“Yes,” was the one word reply. Again, Sandy missed the visual cues. 99

***100

An hour turned into two, as theKuomintang soldiers drifted out of sight, as well as the Uyghur threesome. Jacko and Smilie stayed with the trucks while Chilly and Sandy wandered through the small bazaar. Several traders took them for Russians, and addressed them in a semblance of that language. To which the two Anglo-Cathay employees could only answer ‘Nyet’, and smile.101

Sandy was becoming a little riled by the time the soldiers drifted in from the far side of the village, and Adil and Yumur from the Mosque across from the market. Sandy caught sight of Ibrahim coming out of a shop. He was carrying a bundle of feshly baked Uyghur bread, so Sandy thought nothing more of it.102

The convoy set off and drove for over an hour before coming to a narrow snowmelt stream. Sandy turned towards the mountains and paralleled the stream over the rising terrain for five minutes. A small paddock provided some flat ground, and the drivers parked their trucks twenty meters from the brook. A stand of wild apple trees, and a few walnut trees, followed the brook up into the foothills behind the paddock. Across the brook, about one hundred meters distant, two yurts and their attendant flocks of sheep sat near the edge of another copse.103

Ibrahim, the captain and Sandy held a council, and set out the camp. Chilly and Smilie choose a site closer to the stream for drilling; and moved the 6x6 into position. Jacko went off, away from the river, and dug a latrine trench behind several trees. Ibrahim gave instructions to his men, as did the captain. By sunset the camp had taken on some sense of permanence. Adil and Yumur hauled the parts of a yurt out of the third Chevy, and assembled it to the west of the trucks. The soldiers put up two tents, one for the privates, and the other for the captain. Out came cooking pots and kettles. Water drawn from the river was soon boiling over fires of camel dung and fallen branches.104

Sandy and Jacko set up their four-man tent, and all four carried in their long-term accoutraments; cots, canvas stools, etc. Next they set up the large laboratory tent closer to the drill rig, but left it empty. “We’ll set up all the equipment tomorrow, and start in on drilling and sampling the day after,” Sandy informed Chilly as they gathered around the fire for a cup of tea. By now, each of the Anglo-Cathay foursome was openly armed with their Webley 38’s. Sandy wore his in a shoulder holster, the others in cavalry-style hip holsters. All had lanyards attached to the revolvers and carried an ammo pouch with an additional 18 rounds. 105

Adil and Yumur outdid themselves by fixing a traditional chicken and rice dish that satisfied the seven Anglo-Cathay people. The soldiers, already posted on guard duty, two on, two off; took turns eating a stew of their own concoction. After dinner one of the off-duty soldiers got out a balalaika and strumed a couple sad tunes. The captain used his time after dinner to check on the two guards; posted at oposite ends of the camp. Then he spoke to Ibrahim and they came over to Sandy and his crew.106

“Use machine gun?” the captain asked pointedly. 107

Sandy cocked an eyebrow, and addressed Ibrahim, “Can any of us use a machine gun?”108

“Yes. Captain asks if you four can use.”109

“I can,” answered Jacko. “What make?”110

Ibrahaim and the captain confered in Russian. “Pulemyot Maxima,” Bedmedev answered.111

“Russian Maxim gun,” clarified Ibrahim. “I think is 30 calibers.”112

“Easy,” commented Jacko. “But why?”113

“Captain Bedmedev has two Maxims.” Ibrahim explained. “Needs one of you to operate second gun if the camps is attacked. You please, Jacko, come with us?”114

Jacko looked to Sandy for permission. A nod of the head, and he went along with the Ibrahim and the captain. 115

“Somebody is serious,” observed Smilie.116

“Not a bad idea, actually,” stated Chilly. “Things could get nasty if we were ever dropped in it.”117

“Hrmph. Surely,” Sandy responded. “When Jacko gets back we’ll plan tomorrow’s work load.118

A clatter of metal and stones eminated from the centre of the camp. The Anglo-Cathay’s wandered over to find the Captain and two soldiers setting up an elderly Maxim gun inside a semi-cirlce of stones and fallen tree limbs. As they watched, the soldiers shoveled some dirt over the breastworks as ‘camouflage’, placed a tarpaulin over the gun, and then proceeded to scrape out shallow foxholes at either side of the machinegun nest.119

Ibrahim translated a flow of words from the captain as, “Best to plan ahead. Other gun behind, under the GAZ, in case bandits come from hillside.”120

“Please tell the captain that we are pleased with his planning,” requested Sandy.121

To Ibrahim’s translation the captain said, in English, “Is good this. Protect Englisky, da?” 122

Sandy smiled, “Da.”123

***124

The morning routine started early. With the brook nearby everyone could indulge in running water for ablutions, though for different cultural reasons. After breakfast Ibrahim instructed his men to help unload the two Chevy trucks, while he went across the brook to barter with the Khazak nomads in the two nearby yurts. In the full daylight it was clear that the occupants owned a small herd of desert-bred horses, strong and tough. Ibrahim was gone several hours. When he returned he brought a boy with him, driving two ewes, which he tethered near the Uyghurs’ yurt. The boy stood silently near the laboratory tent, wide-eyed as Sandy and Adil carried in tressle tables, stacks of core sample trays, assay equipment, tins of chemcals, fossicking tools, and other bits of the geologist’s trade. 125

Eventually, the boy’s attention was drawn to the drilling rig that Chilly, Jacko and Smilie were assembling. A contrivance to challenge Michelangelo, it was the latest in combination drilling rig, capable of both diamond and hollow stem Auger drilling. Chilly was setting it up in auger mode for geotechnical drilling. Sandy would assess the core samples as they came up; tag and store them for transport back to Anglo-Cathay’s sub-continental offices in Karachi.126

The herd boy watched in fascination as the drillers raised and positioned the rig, and set up the diesel engine for the torque converters, clutches, and transmissions. Smilie drove the pipe truck over, and the team began unloading the two hundred and fifty pieces of drill pipe. This didn’t hold the child’s attention, and he wandered back toward his yurt. 127

Once Sandy had the lab tent set up to his liking, he went in search of Ibrahim. Once he found him they went over to the captain’s tent. They found him sitting at a folding table, playing chess with one of his men. Sandy and Ibrahim waited patiently until the soldier made a move, which the officer blocked with his knight. Then he looked up at the two men. “Da?” 128

Ibrahim translated for Sandy, “I need to discuss something with the two of you.”129

The captain dismissed the soldier, and stood to speak with Sandy and Ibrahim.130

Tomorrow I will start taking rock samples in the foothills. I will need one soldier and one of Ibrahim’s men to accompany me each time I go out. We should be gone from four to six hours each day.”131

The two men confered and Ibrahim announced for both of them that it could be easily scheduled. “Good,” Sandy said, “I will leave after breakfast tomorrow morning. We will follow the stream bed, up one side and back on the other. We will need food for the three of us, for two meals; just in case.”132

“Agreed,” Ibrahim said. 133

“Agreed,” the captain mimicked.134

As Sandy walked back to his tent he caught sight of a dust cloud leaving the nearby yurts. Someone off to visit the next lot of yurts, he surmised.135

The evening meal was well received, and six tired workers tumbled into their respective bedding. Ibrahim sat near his fire, talking with the White-Russian mercenary until late in the night.136

***137

In the morning Ibrahim brought Adil, and Captain Bedmedev brought one of his soldiers. Sandy met with them outside the laboratory tent. “This is Ivan Dragov,” Bedmedev introduced the chunky, tough-looking soldier. “He is smart man,” Bedmedev emphasised, “good with gun.” Bedmedev patted the ageing Mauser G98 rifle slung over the soldier’s back. The man smiled a toothy grin.138

Sandy explained their day’s activity and schedule, while Ibrahim translated. As this was happening, Chilly and his off-siders were preparing the drill rig to begin the coring. The bellowing chug-chug of the diesel-fueled Lister engine split the morning stillness, and signaled the end of Sandy’s conference.139

The three men set off up the stream bank to the sound of the drill transmission being thrown into gear, and the bit gouging into the soil. Chilly, Jacko and Smilie were in their element, and would attend their rig like drones to a queen bee in the nursery.140

The scattered grove of wild apple trees, some a full eight meters tall, soon gave way to marshy ground. This marshland obliterated the banks of the small stream. There was no water course now, only the seeping flow of water through the sedge and fescue and around several stands of maples. The trio were forced to hike into rocks to the west of the marsh. Once past the marsh the valley opened up in the near distance to a well grazed meadow. Indeed, a flock of sheep were visible in a patch of sunshine about five hundred meters away. Several boys and a dog guarded the grazing animals. 141

Adil pointed to himself, and then to the shepherds, and motioned that he would like to go to speak with them. Sandy nodded his ok. As Adil wandered off, Sandy began picking through the rocks along the stream, occassionally breaking off a piece or two with his hammer. Extremely promising samples he placed in his sachel. Ivan strolled along, occassionally making offhanded comments in Russian. Sandy expected he was commenting on the Canadian’s sanity. 142

Once Sandy plunged into midstream and came up with a hand full of gravel. He carefully carried this to a bare patch of ground and proceeded to pick through his pile of grit. Eventually he retrieved two flecks of gold. Taking out a notebook he penciled in a notation, then flicked the gold dust back into the stream.143

An hour of this brought Sandy and Ivan level with Adil and the young shepherds. He looked at the scene, and wondered if they had killed wild animals as the biblical King David had in his shepherding youth. He expected that they had. As indeed he himself had as a teenager, guarding cattle on his family’s ranch in Alberta, armed with a Winchester. He saw no weapons in plain sight near the two boys; but expected there had to be some secreted away somewhere. This was too wild a land.144

Adil had used the boys’ campfire to brew up some tea, and the five of them enjoyed a break. Adil shared out some bread, the boys brought out some cheese. Goat or mare’s, Sandy didn’t know. Adil and the boys chatted away, though Sandy picked up that their dialects differed. Ivan made some polite comments, to which Sandy just agreably kept answereing ‘da….da, pravda’. After their tea break Sandy motioned his assistants to accompany him. He managed a “Tuzut Qilmang!”, the pronunciation of which a smiling Adil corrected with his own Uighur ‘thank you’. 145

The stream took a major bend as the threesome neared the upper end of the pasturage. Within a few dozen yards they came upon a major rockslide. For the next quarter of a mile the eastern side of a hill was scattered over several acres. Boulders, rocks, scree, fallen trees, all mixed in a jumble that scared the face of a hillside. Sandy was in his element. 146

Except for the lunch-break, he spent the rest of the work day picking through the rubble. So absorbed in his pickings was he, that Ivan and Adil had to call several times before Sandy realized it was time to head back. By now he had filled two satchels with rock samples. Ivan helped him carry one. Retracing their route they returned to camp just before dusk. Sandy took the satchels and put their contents in the laboratory tent.147

***148

This pattern went on for two more days. By then Sandy had fossicked far up the valley, and Chilly’s crew had brought up a wealth of core samples. It was time for Sandy to busy himself in the lab.149

At then end of elevn days’ work the Anglo-Cathay team had thoroughly assessede their sample, packed away what they needed to take back, and were ready to move camp. Another two days of driving saw them on the desert leg of a zig-zag. Following a large dry stream bed they drove to the edge of the sandy Taklamantan, and set up on a plain between the wadi and a small hillock. This time Chilly set up his drill rig right in the wadi, where there were remnants of clay and gravel on which to park.150

The Ibrahim’s crew parked the other trucks closer together this time, with all the tents and the yurt sited on the inside of the windvreak. “Wind comes, trucks make wall,” Ibrahim explained, “tents safe.” The Maxim guns were set up at each end of the truck park, and one of the Russian guards posted with the drill rig at all times. Sandy was satisfied with this alteration in camp setup.151

In this sand filled environment, fossiking was limited to the dry stream bed itself. As this would bring few samples, the focus of Sandy’s work would have to await the core samples the drill brought up. The familiar chug-chug of the Lister, and rattle of the drill rig dominated the camp. With little to do the soldiers became a little rowdy in the evenings. Not all guard posts were properly manned after a night’s drinking. After four days of this, Sandy went to Captain Bedmedev to complain. The situation improved, marginally, and the drilling routines went on, and on.152

Sandy was in the lab tent one afternoon, assaying some core samples, when Ibrahim asked to enter. “Weather is becoming bad,” he announced. “Sandstorm tonight. Must make camp ready.” His tone of voice was emphatic, and Sandy went over to the drill rig to confer with Chilly. While Ibrahim and his men attended to the camp in general, the soldiers dealt with their tent and truck. Chilly’s crew shut down the rig, removed the pipes and drillbit, and tied everything down. Then they strengthened the lab and sleeping tents with additional ropes. All loose gear went into the tents or were lashed down on the trucks.153

As all this activity was happening the day visibly darkened, and the wind picked up. Ibrahim made sure that each group had water and consumables, and could wait out the coming storm. With the camp in readiness, the wind rising, and nothing left to do, the various groups repaired to their lodgings. Ibrahim and his men had roped down their yurt, barred the door, and settled in for a wait. The Kuomintang troopers laced up the entrance of their tent, got out cards or chess, and the ubiquitous vodka, lit a lamp, and settled in. Sandy tied down the lab’s tent flap then struggled his way against the rising wind to his tent. He and Chilly laced up the entrance. The pressure lamp was already lit.154

The wind, previously in building gusts, now became constant; yet still building. The sand blasted against the taut canvas, and worked its way through a hundred gommets and seams. “If the tent goes,” Sandy instructed in a sout above the roaring wind, “climb into the nearest truck. We can find what might be left of the tent later.”155

Sleep, with the shrieking wind, snapping canvas, and raw abbrasive sound of the blowing sand, was a rare experience, until sheer exhaustion overcame the noise. The Anglo-Cathay crew lost all sense of day or night as the storm continued hours after hour. By the second day the men were becoming concerned for their equipment. He tent was holding up ok, but there would obviously be sandblown damage to the drill rig; and perhaps to the trucks as well. The four men became frustrated at the waiting.156

It was the longest and fiercest sand storm any of them had ever encountered. It was the silence at the end of the storm that was so shocking. The four of them awoke on the morning of the fourth day, startled into wakefulness by the silence. No wind. No sand blasting their tent. Just silence.157

The four men emerged from their tent to find their camp transformed. The routund yurt was almost entirely buried in a sand drift. The door was open and the Uyghurs were wandering around getting their bearings and dragging out equipment. The Kuomintang tent was flattened and partially covered.The White Russians were atnding next to their truck, looking very haggard. Ibrahim and Bedmedev were confering. When they saw the Brits emerge they started to walk over.158

Chilly immediately began checking on the condition of the trucks. The sand had blasted the paint off the sides facing the wind. The metal was pitted with tiny pockmarks. The glass in the windows was opaque from the sandblasting. All the trucks were half-buried, and would need top be dug out before they could be started or repaired. It was the drill rig that brought the greatest grief to Chilly. The Listor engine was totally buried. He expected serious clogging. The rig itself was sticking up out of the sand dune that had accumulated around the truck. Being in the stream bed meant that the top of the rig had borne the brunt of the sand-blasting. 159

Chilly was concerned that the hydralic hoses and couplings would be seriously damaged. It would take days to dig the rig and trucks out and begin assessing the needed repairs. Chilly walked back to find Sandy, who had forced his way into the lab tent to assess the damage there. Like the Kuomintang tent, it had partially collapsed under the weight of the piling sand.160

“I think,” began Sandy, “That we need to combine our people into one crew, prioritise the repairs, and get up and running as soon as practicable. I suggest we tackle to living quarters first, then move on to the trucks, with the drill rig last. Once evrything is free of sand drifts we can start the actual mechanical repairs.”161

“OK by me,” agreed Chilly. 162

Calling Jacko and Smilie from their putterings in the sleeping tent, the foursome walked over to the soldiers, calling to Ibrahim along the way. A half hour of multi-lingual confusion, passing for discussion, brought a consensus. Ibrahim’s men cooked up a large meal, as no one had had a full meal in days. Refreshed, the twelve men began the labourious task of digging themselves out and restoring the camp to order. Noon saw the yurt and tents freed and properly errected again. The only real damage was to some tent poles; which merely had to be spliced.163

With many hands working together the oparked trucks were rapidly set free from their sand blankets. Assessment and repairs would have to wait until after the drillrig was free of its sand capsule. That task took them until dusk. It was an exhausted group of men who made their weary way to bed that night. So weary that they all ate an uncooked meal of dried dates, flat bread and cheese. Captain Bedmedev didn’t even require a guard to be posted. 164

The morning light brought the opportunity to actually take the time to reflect upon the changes the massive sand storm had wrought upon the landscape. The dry stream bed was mostly filled in as far as they could see, obliterating much of its outline and path. The plain upon which they’d camped was now adrift with small dunes, in addition to the hummocks they had piled up in digging out their equipment. 165

But most interesting, indeed most amazing, was the transformation of the hillock that had filled their southern vista. The mound for a distance of almost one hundred yards had been scouped out, the sand carried away on the wind to be re-deposited miles away. Instead of a mound there was a shallow depression. One by one the men gathered to stand at the edge of the wind’s excavation, and stared. 166

Stared at the dozens of bodies half emerging from the ancient sands.167

The Uyghurs began whispering together, and backed away from the edge of the burial site. Several of the White Russians crossed themselves, and said prayers. Jacko let loose a string of oaths, while Smilie exhaled a straightforward and amazed “Strewth!”168

Scattered before them were the mummified remains of people, old and young, all dessicated and almost perfectly preserved by the desert environment. Sandy, while having no anthropological training, was a scientist, and quickly overcame his shock, and scrambled down the embankment to poke into several of the graves.169

While he was investigating the remains, the Uyghurs and soldiers were backing away from the mass grave. After a few minutes even Smilie and Jacko had had their eye-full and drifted back to their beloved machinery. Soon the sound of tinkering could be heard eminating from under the bonnets of several trucks. Sandy remained amongst the graves, and Chilly joined him.170

“I wonder how long they’ve been here?” ventured Chilly.171

“Well, geologically, that stream hasn’t flowed for centuries. Coupl’a hundred to a coupl’a thousand years. No water, no village in this desert,” Sandy observed.172

Which died first, I wonder, the people or water?”173

“Well, usually; and again geologically speaking, people tend to move on when the water runs out.” He let out a deep sigh. “We can leave the suppositions to the anthropologists. I’ll mark the site on the map and write it up in the log.After we’ve got the vehicles and drill running again we can all come back and re-bury them.”174

“Have you noticed their hair?, Chilly asked. It looks red, or blond; not like Asian black hair at all.”175

“Hmm. Could be natural; or it could be that the minerals in the soil leached into the hair over time. Something else for the anthropologists. Come on Chills, let’s get back to work.”176

They climbed out of the site and walked back to the vehicles.177

***178

Two days’ repairs saw all the trucks running again, with no permanent mechancal damage from the sand; but all would need a major re-paint job. The drill rig was more problematic. The Lister had to be stripped down and cleaned piece by piece, then reassembled before it could be made to work; a labourious task. 179

While Jacko and Smilie worked on the Lister engine, Chilly and Sandy stripped down the drill rig, checking every hose and coupling before even attempting to refurbish the transmission and powertrain. Sand had worked into every gear and crevass, and every micron of sand had to be cleaned out before Chilly dared engage the transmission. It was good that the manufacturer built their rigs tough, anticipating that geological exploration happened in the worst conditions imaginable. Another two days, and Chilly stood with his thumb on the started button.180

The Lister ground and chugged, wheezed and pulsed ever so slowly for over a minute before it caught and settled into a normal rhythm. Chilly gave the old green engine block a pat. Next came the drill rig. The pipes and bit had been re-installed. Chilly clenched his teeth, and engageed the transmission. The grinding sound that the rig emitted was that of rock, not gears, and the foursome gave a brief cheer. They were back in business.181

Captain Bedmedev volunteered his soldiers to do the re-burying. Ibrahim and his men were quietly grateful. Death had no cultural or religious qualms for the White Russians. All five of them had seen their fill of death in the last thiry or more years. It took several hours. It made a change from the routines of the camp. And the origins and endings of the mummies made for endless speculation among the soldiers. Gossip and rumour are always good for soldierly entertainment while in camp.182

***183

Two days into the new drilling Jacko was standing on the truck bed making an adjustment to the rig’s hydraulics. Standing thus a few feet above the ground he had a panoramic view of their desolate surroundings. A flash of light caught his eye. He strained to see, then called to Sandy, asking for the binoculars. Sandy clambered up on to the truck bed along side Jacko and handed the binoculars over, asking” What gives?”184

“Movement,” replied Jacko, as he pointed north towards a black dot on the horizon. Adjusting the glasses he narrated, “Horseman. I saw a flash of light. I think his binoculars are looking at ours looking at him. Too far away to see detail. Oh? Company. Three horsemen now.”185

“Captain Medvedev! Ibrahim!” yelled Sandy. Those men came running. Medvedev swung up on to the truck and was handed the binoculars. He studied the distant objects for half a minute, then turned and bellowed a string of orders to his men. “Soviet Bandiskyi,” he said with a hiss. To Sandy he declared flatly, “Kommunistyi come. Must fight now.” Climbing down he had words with Ibrahim, and then ran off to see to his men. 186

Ibrahim waited for Sandy and Jacko to clamber down, and Chilly and Smilie to join them before he spoke. “Captain says Communist bandits have found us. They will attack tonight, or early in the morning. We must get ready. You must move drill truck.”187

“We can’t move the truck, Ibrahim,” Chilly tried to explain. “The drill is too deep. It takes a long time to dismantle everything.”188

“Can you guard truck?” Ibrahim asked.189

“Let’s talk with Bedmedev,” Sandy suggested.190

A council of war ensued. Ibrahim was all for moving the drill rig, and couldn’t understand why not. Medvedev was insistent that the defensive integrity of the camp had to be maintained as is. Sandy countered with the suggestion that he and his men guard the drill rig where it sat, while the soldiers and Ibrahim’s men guarded the camp itself.191

“Boge moi! Not good!” Bedmedev protested. “Keep forces together, strength that way. Divide, not good! Communists attack maybe when you busy with truck. No defense.” He rattled off into Russian, and Ibrahim didn’t try to keep up with a translation. But the tone was clear enough. The men stayed as a unit; and the drill rig would have to look after itself, because dead men couldn’t operate it.192

As night fell, Ibrahim’s men kept food and hot tea coming to those on guard. The trucks had been mnoved so that their headlights could be shone on any attackers. The Maxim guns were re-sited. Two soldiers were waiting in the bed of their truck. Everyone was bundled up against the desert night chill. It was a long night.193

The half-moon set around four a.m. and the tension palpably increased. Sandy was standing in the lee of one of the trucks when three things happened simultabeously. He heard a truck start up. A shot rang out immediately behind him. And a heavy weight thudded against his back and pushed him to his knees. His Webley was in his hand in an instant and he swung around to judge what was happening. Beside him lay the semi-decapitated body of Ibrahim, a dirk still clutched in his right hand. Over him stood Captain Bedmedev, revolver in his hand. In the background Sandy heard a truck pull away, and a rattle of rifle fire. The truck stopped and its engine died. 194

“Kommunist spoion. Assassin. Ibrahim kill you. Then take truck, leave. I kill. You find camera in is things I think. Photograph your journal. We fight Kommunists now, yes?” He walked back into the camp.195

The bandits came at them fifteen minutes later. The headlights were switched on, and the Maxim guns did much damage in the few seconds that the bandits were frozen in the beams. The lights were switched off when bullets started seeking them out. It was a probing attack, but the bandits had been stung and halted for the time being.196

Dawn showed four bidies sprawled in the sand in front of the camp. No living bandits were visible; but the odd shot spranged against a truck from time to time. To the south of the camp, about fifteen yards, the Chevy 11/2 ton truck sat crossways on a mound of sand.197

Ibrahim’s two workers lay sprawled in the sand next to the vehicle. As Sandy gazed at the scene Chilly came up beside him and observed, “they must have meant to kill you, then either bug-out, orjoin their Commie comrades. I wonder why?”198

“Mineral wealth, Chilly. It all boils down to mineral wealth. We want it. The Soviets want it. The Uyghurs live on top of it; and the Chinese supposedly control it. There’s got to be oil, gold, natural gas, coal, manganese, chromium, copper, silver, nickel, cobalt and a dozen other minerals sitting under the sands and up in the hills. A geologists dream, Chills. And everyone fighting for a piece of it.”199

“I had my war, thank you very much,” observed Chilly dryly.200

***201

At noon they were attacked again. Sandy counted about twenty bandits, some wearing Soviet-style uniforms and carrying automatic weapons. Aparently the drilling rig was the target of this attack, and the shots fired at the camp only a diversion. A blast from the direction of the drill rig drew a long and angry string of profanity from Jacko. When the smoke of the blast cleared, flames were licking at the truck and the Lister. The truck itself was sitting askew. It was obvious that the drill rig had been seriously damaged.202

“Not much a geological survey team can do without a drill rig,” Chilly commmented to no one in particular. “Bullfrogs!” he expleted forcefully, then spat. 203

An hour later the firing began again, this time aimed squarely at the camp. One of the soldiers was killed. Bedmedev instructed the camp to lower its volume of return fire; trying to convince the bandits that there were few people left to fight; or that they were running low on ammunition. The Maxim guns were not to fire at all, until and unless the bandits rushed the camp again. 204

The ruse worked, and at dusk the bandits made a rush; only to have their numbers reduced by at least a third. It was a long and anxious night for the defenders. At moonset the bandits did not repeat their early morning attack of the previous day. 205

Sandy and Chilly discussed the situation, and agreed that with the drill rig damaged, and the truck unserviceable, their survey was over for all practical purposes. They would have to get parts for the deuce and a half, come back, repair it, drive the rig back to Kashgar for repairs, and then start all over again. This time with reliable Uyghur assistants, and a larger security force. 206

All that provided, of course, that they could extradite themselves from their persent circumstances; that parts for the truck and rig could be obtained this drilling season; that the local authorities wouldn’t put up barriers; and that no one was at war with anyone else in the province. Altogther a tall order, Sandy thought.207

“I think,” Sandy admitted reluctantly after they had discussed the options, “our best bet is to pull up stakes, abandon the rig, and drive out of here when we can. We can always replace equipment. I’d hate to tell your wife that she needs to replace you.”208

Chilly laughed, “Yeah, I agree. Besides, where would she find another of me?”209

“Surely. Where indeed.”210

Just as they finished their discussion, Captain Bedmedev walked up to them. “Bandits leave. We hurt them. I think they come to damage rig mostly. Now they sit on horses. What think you?”211

Sandy answered for them, “We think it is time to leave and go back to Kashgar.”212

“I think same. Two trucks. Food, water, fuel we take. Drive day night. Banditskyi no follow long. Yes?”213

“Da”, Sandy answered emphatically.214

Bedmedev shouted orders to his remaining men. Hurredly they buried Ibrahim and his two men together, and the soldier seperately with a marker. Sandy and his crew readied the remaining Chevy with supplies, and the survey log, maps and important samples. 215

Bedmedev’s men did the same with their elderly GAZ. Mounting a Maxim on each truck they headed of north to rejoin the road back to Kashgar.216

The sand, especially since the great sandstorm, had changed the driving conditions significantly. It was now much slower going, with no opportunity to use the stream bed as a makeshift road. It wasn’t long before they were aware that they were being shadowed on both beams by the mounted bandits. A short bust of machinegun fire was sufficient to keep the bandits at a distance. Return fire was sporadic, but annoying, and potentially lethal.217

If the bandits thought the survey team would halt for the night they were mistaken. Switching drivers frequently, and topping off their fule tanks at every opportunity, the two trucks were able to maintain a reasonable pace through the sand country. However, the horsemen were able to match it. Not until they reached the raod did the trucks start to pull away. However, the horsemen had the advantage of moving more directly through the foothills, while the trucks had to keep to the road. Punishing their horse, the remnant of the bandit group reached a village a few minutes before the trucks arrived, and set up an ambush.218

It was dusk as the trucks drove through the outskirts of the village. A day and a half direct driving would see them in Kashgar. A hail of bullets swept them as they rounded a bend in the road. The ran the gauntlet of fire, coming through much the worse for wear. Jacko was slightly wounded. The fuel and water cans on the Chevy were holed. And the machinegunner on Bedmedev’s GAZ was killed. They drove into the night, assuming that they were still being pursued.219

The horses were done in. His men were also. The leader of the Communist squad, a Khazak of many years military experience, called a halt to the pusuit. He had other plans. With an excort of two men he walked into the village, and knocked on the door of a local leader. Obtaining welcome in this home of a Muslim seperatist the guerilla leader explained his need. Five minutes later he was speaking to a contact in Kasgar via wireless transmitter run off a car battery. His job done he stayed to enjoy the headman’s hospitality.220

***221

Into flat country at night they drove as fast as the conditions allowed. Around two a.m. the Chevy hit a rock, blowing a tyre and sending the truck sideways off the road. There was the sound of metal cracking. The GAZ pulled up so that its lights iluminated the scene. Jacko and Smilie clambered under the truck to survey the damage. A string of Jacko’s usual profanity filled the night, then his assessment. “Right front axle is snapped,” Jacko shouted from under the chassis. “Tyre’s flat, rim is bent. This truck stays here, I’m afraid.” 222

“Shift the core samples and our kit to the GAZ. I’ll ask the captain if he wants any of our fuel or water. Take the distributor cap and battery from the Chevy. No use making a present of it to someone unpleasant. We can come back with parts and tools later,” Sandy instructed.223

Ten minutes saw the supplies and equipment transferred and the Chevy’s engine disabled. The one truck convoy moved off again, aat a slightly reduced speed. Jacko sat in the bed of the GAZ, fuming to himself that it was the ancient Polutorka that was still running. Run it did, all the way to Kashgar. The captain and Sandy agreed that they’d head for the Anglo-Cathay compound.224

From a quarter mile distance they could see the gate standing open, inviting. As they neared the compound the captain ordered the truck to halt a distance away. He sent two of his men ahead to check the compound. Covering eachother they entered the gate and moved out of line of sight. Shots rang out, and one soldier came sprinting back towards the truck shouting his warning. Jacko swung the Maxim towards the gate. The Kuomintang soldier, seeing the Maxim swing around, flung himself to the ground and crawled the remaining yards to the GAZ. Jacko began firing at the dozen bandits who boiled out of the gate, killing or wounding several. Chilly, the current driver, backed rapidly away from the compound until he could turn around. Jacko let fly another burst as the truck sped away. 225

“Aero ground! Aero ground!” the captain bellowed. Sandy shouted his agreement. On reaching the airfield they drove straight to the Anglo-Cathay aircraft. A single member of Bedmedev’s guard squad was on duty. He came to attention when he saw the GAZ and his captain. He stared in wonder though at the motley ragtag outfit that piled off the back of the truck. Bedmedev shouted orders and his remaining soldier and the guard began unloading the GAZ.226

Chilly and Sandy rushed into the cockpit to begin the pre-takeoff routines, while Jacko and Smilie tore off the tarps, unchocked the wheels and checked the engines for signs of weather damage.Sandy then came down out of the DC-3 and helped Jacko and Smilie load and secure their kit bags, mineral samples and logbooks. While this was going on the two soldiers drove off with the GAZ; returning shortly with the other three men of the guard squad.227

Captain Bedmedev came up to Sandy and asked, “You have room for passengers, maybe? Not healthy here for us now.” His eyes were tired, but not frightened.228

“We have room,” Sandy confirmed. “Any families?” he asked wisely.229

“My men have local women. No families. My wife and sons White Russian émigrés in Shanghai. I think maybe I can help them get to America, yes?”230

“Get your men on board. No weapons. Only personal things and any papers or Kuomintang paybooks. Hurry. You will all have to share oxygen bottles when we cross the mountains. Do you undwerstand?”231

“Understand, must breath in altitude.”232

Bedmedev shouted orders and the four privates dropped their weapons on the ground, scrambled into the plane and settled themselves on the cargo decking. Jack and Smilie strapped themselves into the canvas passenger seats. Sandy closed and dogged the cargo door and made his way forward.233

“Smilie,” Sandy instructed, “you’re in charge of helping them share oxygen during the flight. OK?”234

“OK, Sandy.”235

Back in the cockpit he and Chilly went through the startup drill. The right engine started immediately. The left was recalcitrant, and billowed oily smoke once it finally fired up. “We’ll have to watch the gauges on that one, I think,” cautioned Sandy.236

Sandy taxied out on to the filed and swung the Skytrain into the moderate wind. As he ran up the engines he and Chilly saw two elderly sedans race on to the field. Without another word Sandy gunned the engines and released the brakes. It was all too obvious who was in the cars, and who they were after. Winkles of light and smoke eminated from the cars’ windows, and bullets began to spang against the fuselage of the onrushing aircraft. 237

Gaining airspeed the tail came up just as the first sedan pulled long side, guns aimed at the cockpit. A side window shattered, and the face of a gauge was blown out, but the lifting aircraft soon outpaced the sedan. Pulling into the sky with its lightere than usual load the war-surplus plane quickly gained altitude and set course for the Punjab.238

***239

The core samples and log books Sandy had meticulously recorded, his written report of the abreviated exploration, notes on the mummies, and a letter from the British Consul in Kashgar on the murder of the Anglo-Cathay agent by Communist agents, were all deposited in Anglo-Cathay’s archives; until such time as a new survey could be mounted.240

That time never came. Continued warfare in Sinkiang Province, and the eventual defeat of the Kuomintang central government and the establishment of the People’s Republic of China eneded any plans Anbglo-Cathay may have had.241

The men and the records became just another bundle of silences.242

****243

Headlines244

“Xinjiang To Be China's Major Oil and Gas Production Base”245

The Lun Nan (Lunnan) Oilfield -- Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region246

According to a 2000 report, oilfields in Xinjiang have oil deposits estimated at 20.86 billion tons and natural gas deposits estimated at 10.3 trillion cubic meters. The region accounts for 30 percent and 34 percent of the nation's on-land crude oil and natural gas resources, respectively. Both the China National Petroleum Corporation and the China National Petrochemical Corporation have made major investments in Xinjiang. 247

Source: http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/200012/09/eng20001209_57364.html 248

“China pipeline raises ethnic strife”249

Oil, gas boom curbs Uyghur’s autonomy bid”250

Source: The Boston Globe, Nov 5, 2006251

**** The END ****252