A guard was approaching and the conversation ceased.
They were unchained briefly and moved to now completed cages. Jack thought about George’s instructions and wondered if he had the guts he knew he would need to get through. The cage was small and too low for Jack to stand up. He tried to sit, but the guard prodded him to stand hunched over.
He watched as two guards removed Kelshaw from his cage and led him, hands bound, to a thatched hut that served as the central interrogation center. The English speaking guard accompanied Kelshaw inside.
He heard angry voices directed at Kelshaw. He strained to hear, but a guard near him poked at him through the bars of his cage and said something that sounded menacing. Then he heard what sounded like a cry and a dull thud; then silence from the hut. Soon the guards exited dragging Kelshaw between them and threw him into the cage.
He was barely conscious and it was obvious he had been beaten. His face was swelling and there was a cut over one eye that was bleeding.
Hubbard was more frightened than he had ever been. He knew he would be next.
Jack had lost track of time, but he estimated that they had been held more than two weeks in this camp. The camp commander had questioned George every day and each day he was more severely beaten. The English speaking guard seemed to delight in dragging Kelshaw past Jack and the other prisoners as an example.
They had not communicated since before the first beating. Jack was sure Kelshaw was more dead than alive. Then one morning it was Hubbard’s turn. As he was led to the interrogation hut he passed Kelshaw’s cage and heard a faint voice, “Round one, kid; don’t lose your nerve.”
Inside the hut his hands were tied and he was forced into a chair as the interrogator began, “What is your name? What is your mission?”
“Jack Hubbard. I’m a correspondent for United Press International.”
“You are a liar, you work for CIA. What is your mission?” he repeated. “I will ask you again, what is your name and who are your contacts?”
“No, I do not work for the CIA… I work for United Press International. My name is Jack Hubbard and I came to Laos to get a story about the Peace negotiations.”
A rifle butt smashed into his side driving him to the floor. The English speaking guard was standing over him, grinning as he lay trying to breathe. The guard pulled him roughly back into the chair and the interrogation began again.
Each time Jack answered he was accused of lying and was struck again and again, blows striking his body and his head and face causing his nose to bleed and one eye to swell shut. Ferret obviously enjoying his work, looked displeased when the interrogation ended. Jerking Hubbard to his feet he pushed him toward the doorway causing Jack to fall. Hands still tied behind him he struggled to get to his feet while a guard kicked him ordering him to get up.
Finally, two guards grabbed him and dragged him back to his cage, throwing him in, leaving his hands tied. Jack fell face down on the floor of the cage. It hurt to breathe, but he was thankful that he still could. Hours later a guard opened the cage and forcing Jack to turn over, he thrust his bayonet at Jack lying helpless. For an instant Jack was certain he would be killed. Then the guard cut his hands free while laughing at the fear that had shown in Jack’s eyes.
Although Jack’s interrogations continued, there seemed to be a lessening of interest in him. He could tell that such was not the case with Kelshaw. It was almost as though there was a personal vendetta incorporated in the questioning.
‘Ferret’, the English speaking guard, hated Kelshaw. He seemed to resent Kelshaw’s command of the language and his knowledge of the Laotian people. Each interrogation left Kelshaw weaker and more injured. Jack was afraid he would die. That terrified him more. One morning Jack looked at Kelshaw’s cage and felt sick to his stomach, the cage was empty, George was gone!
‘Ferret’ came over to Jack’s cage and goaded him by saying, “You’re accomplice is gone; he died last night. “You will be next,” he laughed as he walked away.
Jack was devastated. He couldn’t believe George was dead. He looked around at some of the other prisoners and saw three of the other prisoners were missing also. In a cage close to Jack, a remaining prisoner who had appeared listless and semi-conscious slowly shook his head, ‘no’. Jack understood. George and the other prisoners were gone, but still alive, at least for the present.
Mustering up his courage, Jack called to the guard. “I am a news correspondent. I was in Paris when the Peace Negotiations were going on. Why are the Pathet Lao still taking and holding prisoners?”
“It is of no matter, we are not party to your peace negotiations,” stated the guard. “They are of no consequence to us. You are of no importance and you are a criminal and an enemy of our country!”
Jack persisted, “That’s not true. What are you going to do with us? You don’t understand who I represent,” he repeated. “I have been sent to Laos to report on the Peace Negotiations and the Prisoner of War exchanges…”
“Be quiet!! I told you, you are of no importance!” yelled ‘Ferret’. He slammed his rifle butt against the fingers of Jack’s right hand before he could remove it from the bars of the cage.
The next morning the remaining five prisoners were told they were being moved again. The number of guards had been reduced to six or seven. Jack determined that some of the soldiers must have taken Kelshaw and the missing prisoners to another location.
His hand was badly swollen and painful when the guard moved him from the cage; it was hard to stand straight after being kept in a bamboo cage for such a long period of time. He found it difficult to keep track of time. He wasn’t certain any longer how many days or weeks he had been held.
The prisoners and their captors were being moved again. Walking was slow and painful for the captives; many were in bad shape and had to be helped by the more able bodied prisoners. It was difficult for all of them to negotiate the trails.
One morning a plane was heard flying low over the jungle and the prisoners were forced off the trail and into the trees until the drone of the plane’s engine could no longer be heard.
The third day they arrived at a location where they were loaded into trucks and taken to what had clearly been a former POW camp.
It had started to rain and the prisoners were wet to their skin. Jack’s hand and now his arm had continued to swell and was badly infected. His head ached and he was shivering uncontrollably.
He was overheard trying to speak to one of the other prisoners. ‘Ferret’ wordlessly opened his cage pulled him out and shoved him toward a hole in the ground that was partially full of water; he was pushed in. Jack would remain in the pit for four days.
Rations were short, only a small portion of rice was given to the prisoners; enough to keep them alive. Jack was given nothing. He had no memory of being dragged out of the pit. He was very ill. Later he was told he had lost so much weight his clothes hung on him like a scarecrow.
The two Meo guides who had accompanied Kelshaw and Hubbard had escaped and returned to Vang Pao’s camp advising him of the two men’s capture.
The General assigned several of his men to track and observe the prisoners and their whereabouts. Any attempt at rescue must not jeopardize any other prisoners. It had to be all or nothing.
Word came that the prisoners had been divided into two groups and had been moved to different locations. Kelshaw and three other prisoners were taken to a camp close to Phou Pha Thi. Hubbard and the remaining prisoners were being moved to a camp near the Plain of Jars.