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It seems appropriate here to outline some of the difficulties foreseen, weighed, and, so far as possible, provided for in advance.

## I. Choice of Route.

The Embassy in Canton had under consideration the chartering of a special plane to evacuate Consulate personnel by air to China proper. However, the enormous expense of this project, the doubt whether it could be executed before the Communist armies, already attacking Lanchow, cut off egress by this means, and the uncertainty whether all members of the non-American staff that came with us could pass through Hongkong to safety elsewhere, influenced me to recommend the attempt to escape over one of the mountain routes to the south.

This way of departure had already been considered and plans outlined to the Department in a despatch in August, 1948. I fully realized that this travel would not be easy, but despite the foreseeable dangers and others we could not anticipate, I still felt that this was the most advisable route. Later events seem to have supported my judgment in this matter. Lanchow fell shortly after our departure from Tihwa and the capture soon after by the Communist armies of other airfields in the Kansu corridor would presumably have inclusively postponed the arrival of a chartered plane. Waiting for plane travel to be ruled out would probably have delayed our departure over the southern route until the political situation might have made even this means of escape impossible.

The experience of several members of the Consulate party in motor travel in Sinkiang at various times, particularly my own visit to Khotan (Hotien) by the Consular command car in the spring of 1948, had prepared us for the portion of the journey by motor road and had also made us acquainted with key personnel, both Chinese and native, along the way. This friendly contact proved invaluable to us at Aqsu, Kashgar, and Karghalik.

Selection of the four non-American staff members to accompany us (out of the twenty on the payroll) was primarily based on the probability of their severe suffering if they remained at Tihwa, on account of their conspicuous record of loyalty to the American Government, and the difficulty of their departure by any other route. Their original employment was decided principally on the basis of their ability in the languages of the area (Turki and Russian) other than Chinese. I used no interpreter for Chinese at any time on the trip.

## II. Preparation for Travel.

One of the principal needs that could be recognized when we started from Tihwa was to protect the health of the members of the party. Their mental poise was maintained by our constantly expressed interest in their difficulties, including not only the hardships of travel but also prompt adjustment of small arguments that arose, which, if left to develop, might have become real quarrels. Vice Consul Dreesen, my wife, and one of the alien employees took care to avoid involvement in the two cliques that grew up as we traveled over the careven route. We were thus free to give unblessed attention where needed to comfort all who were aggrieved, and I made abundantly clear my deep personal concern with even their minor problems. The good effect of this interest was shown by the overall cohesion of the party right through to our respective destinations.

The responsibility for caring for the physical health of the group was given to my wife whose field work as an Army nurse for two years in the ETO and earlier experience in public health nursing in

America

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America and China qualified her for this duty. She selected articles from both the medical and surgical Army jungle kits, filling one case which was kept available for our travel and used regularly at morning and evening sick call. (Each time I personally invited all who needed attention to report.) She inspected and treated many minor ailments that might have become serious if left untreated, for the carev neem as well as the members of our party.

The provision of food, cold and hot weather clothing, bedding and shelter tents were also superintended by my wife. She helped the non-Americans in selecting containers for their luggage suitable for pack coree loads, giving maximum protection to the contents and providing availability for articles needed on the way. She supervised the weighing of each case, making a record which provided the basis for determining the number of pack animals required.

Vice Consul Dreessen handled the negotiations for the hire of the caravan and the financial aspects of the travel, which presented many complications both in Sinkiang and India, in addition to other duties assigned to him.

The non-American personnel were always helpful in interpreting in Turki as well as assisting with their other skills.

### III. Specific Problems Solved.

The following principal unforeseeable problems arose and were solved as explained in the full account of the journey.

1) The departure from Sinkiang without alarming the local officials in Tihwa, Kashgar or Karghalik who might otherwise have prevented our departure (despite the radio news from Washington that the Consulate was being closed);

2) The hardships from heat and desert roads and the decrepit condition of the jeep, which nevertheless came all the way and was safely returned with the truck to the Indian Consulate General at Kashgar;

3) The difficulty in receiving travel papers for the party;

4) The arrangement for guarantees of good behavior by the carevaneers;

5) The mutiny (involving a calculated risk which turned out favorably), which we were able to run through at Yarkand thanks principally to my knowledge of Chinese psychology and language;

6) The passage past the last Chinese garrison at Kokat (where another similar danger occurred--also successfully solved);

7) Topographical problems in India (in going from China to India the highest passes came at the end of the journey when men and animals were most weakened);

8) Political problems in India (the Kashmir maneuvers of the Indian Army had disrupted the natural economy of Ladakh; animals and men were being pressed into military service; the scant supplies of food and provender were severely strained; and normal assistance of the Indian Government to caravans with guides, supply dumps, and yaks for hire at the glaciers had been suspended); and

*Mr. Dreessen's surname is erroneously spelled following the *Foreign Service List*.

9) The

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9) The constant threat to the accomplishment of the operation of delay.

Postponement of our departure would have involved the risks that we would not be permitted by the Chinese authorities to leave the country at all, if the Communists should take over the province or, even if we were permitted to travel too late in the season, that the rigors of winter might result in casualties to the personnel. A vivid realization of these factors principally motivated my actions in pushing through the Yarkand mutiny and added urgency to our passage past the Koket garrison post (which, incidentally, occurred three days after the adherence of the Provincial Government to the Communists, though that was unknown to us until we reached Leh).

A further danger was occasioned by chronic delay in starting each day's travel. If we were too many days en route the fodder for the animals would be exhausted on the barren mountain trail where none could be obtained and in time even human food would be insufficient. This nearly caught us but, after two days' extremely late starts, with morale very low and habituation still an uncertain distance away, we escaped only by a forced march to Panamik whence we sent back fodder for the exhausted horses and aid to the caravaneers who had remained with the baggage. We might have lost some people had we not reached shelter, but we fortunately got to our destination that night (another calculated risk).

The genuineness of these risks of delay in leaving Sinkiang or being unduly detained in the mountains is indicated by the frightful difficulties encountered by members of a subsequent caravan (as described in an enclosed copy of a letter from Isa Yusuf). These included torture by Chinese troops and bitter weather en route, which resulted in death and injuries to several of the party.

Throughout the at times arduous journey I received the most commendable support from all members of the party. They were quick to follow my suggestions and where necessary took just enough initiative to avoid adding to my problems and complicating them by errors. No question was raised, except in council when time permitted, as to the wisdom of my decisions, even on the occasions where I felt that the risk of my own injury or even death was required to bring us through, despite the difficulty of replacing me as leader. However, the warmth of their congratulations, after these gambles had succeeded, was heartening in the extreme.

Vice Consul Dreesen's vigor and constant cheerfulness was of great assistance in maintaining the morale of the entire party. Despite the frequent strain of emergency conditions, the heat of the desert at the start of our travel and the cold and fatigue of moving at high altitudes toward the end of it, he never complained of weariness. In fact, I had, finally, to curb his tendency to wander off after game when the going was hard for the rest of the party at high altitudes and no personnel or animals had the strength to search for him if he became lost. He accepted my judgment, once given, and stayed with the party except when specifically authorized to pursue a particularly inviting mountain sheep or ibex.

In all these instances it was clear just what the other members of the party were doing and where they were. However, on the lost and most tiring day of the entire journey over the Khardong glacier and pass, Vice Consul Dreesen, using his own good judgment, took charge

of

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of the movement of the baggage over this dangerous traverse while
I went ahead to ensure the safety of the personnel, there being no
opportunity for consultation between Mr. Dreesen and me.

Mr. Dreesen deserves special commendation for his valuable
contribution to the success of this operation. It was not an easy
journey to make, but the problems set by political and pheycial cir-
cumstances were solved within the existing framework. Its fortunate
success was due to the prompt and effective cooperation received
from all members of the party.

JHfaxton:vmp:db

Enclosures:

1. An Informal Account of the Journey.

2. Road Record.

3. Scale of Altitudes of Key Points
on Route from Tihwa to Leh.

4. Clothing worn from Tihwa to Leh;
Shelter and Toilet Articles.

5. Food and Kitchen Equipment.

6. Medical Supplies Used from Tihwa to Leh.

7. Road Itinerary Provided by the Indian Consulate General.

8. Road Itinerary of American Consular Party.

9. Description of Route from Leh to Chibra;
Kokyar to Aktagh (1874-1930).

10. Description of Route Traveled from Pusar
to Leh (September 21 to October 20, 1949).

11. Letters Evaluating Personnel and Service of Caravan.

12. Letters Describing Difficulties Encountered by a Subsequent Caravan.

13. Daily Diary from Tihwa to New Delhi.

14. Weekly Letters Written En Route from Tihwa to New Delhi.

15. Photographs of Life in the Caravan and the Country through which It Traveled.

Enclosure No. 1 to Unnumbered Despatch to the Department dated March 1, 1950, from J. Hall Paxton, Formerly American Consul at Tihwa, China, on the subject: "Travel out of Tihwa".

AN INFOMAL ACCOUNT OF THE JOURNEY

Several of our friends since our return home have congratulated us on
our "wonderful adventure". It will be obvious that we were trying our best
to avoid adventure. We were travelling under government orders and the route
taken, despite its difficulties, was the easiest practicable one from our
post in Tihwa, Sinkiang to the outside world since the Communist armies' at-
tack on Fansu, the Province immediately to the east of ours, had closed that
more usual exit by air or road. We felt that as the mountain trails had been
used for centuries by caravans between China and India, they should present no
insuperable difficulties to normally resourceful travellers who had time to
anticipate and provide for them.

A previous journey along the desert road to the south in March-April, 1948,
had indicated the problems of that route and had established contacts along the
way which were to prove invaluable for the present travel. We had learned how
to approach the people, both Chinese and Turki, to obtain the best results and
had with us in our own party the necessary interpreters for communication with
all the non-Chinese-speaking groups in the South Sinkiang area. I felt competent
to handle the Chinese contacts and the non-American staff were of proven loyalty.
This method of exit from China had been under consideration for over a year and
we knew how to meet most of the problems of transport and supply. Adequate re-
serves of gasoline had been kept replenished for months just for this contingency
and the American personnel had already made plans for the packing of their per-
sonal effects that were to be taken out.

As soon as it was decided (on August 14) to go out by the South, we called
certain members of the non-American staff who had been so conspicuously loyal
that they could not be left behind together and asked them whether they wished
to go out with us and would be prepared for this sort of travel. They all agreed
and, after two days' rather hectic changes in packing arrangements, necessitated
by the decision not to await plane transportation but to travel for weeks by
caravan instead, we started off in the Consulate 6 x 6 truck and jeep for Kashgar.

The truck, driven by chauffeur-mechanic Erwin Konetschney, carried, in ad-
dition to the baggage of the entire party, his wife, Angelina, and two sons,
Leonid and Gerard, aged 5 and 2; accountant-Turki-English interpreter, Enver
Shakul, his wife, Ikbal, his three months old daughter, Elmira, and his sister,
stonographer-file- clerk, Fatima; Tashya Yugoff, wife of chauffeur-mechanic-
projectionist Dimitri, with their 8-year old daughter, Liena, and two sons,
Pavlik and Kolia, aged 6 and 2.

In the jeep were my wife, Vice Consul Robert B. Drossen, and Dimitri,
with me at the wheel.

We wished good luck to Douglas S. Mackiernan, who had orders from the Depart-
ment of State to remain. I felt badly about leaving him alone since twice before
I had been left behind in rear-guard operations at other posts and realized the
difficulties involved, but I was not tackling a simple job in taking out this
group of personnel including five women and six small children. All the local
employees wept, including the men, at our parting, which grieved us too. One
cannot put one's heart into work among a group for three years without pangs at
departure. Several of our friends among the Chinese Government officials appeared
to bid us farewell. Others stopped us at a point five miles out to say good-bye
and the British Consul General, George Fox Holmes, his wife and five children
accompanied us along the road some fifteen miles to see us off.

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We brought with us a combined medical-surgical first aid kit, clothing for all temperatures, bed rolls, food supplies, boiled drinking water, and enough gasoline and motor oil for both vehicles to travel the 900-odd miles to Kashgar and all available spare parts and tools.

The truck having just been well overhauled by Dimitri and Erwin under the supervision of Vice Consul Mackiernan, gave almost no trouble on the entire journey but the jeep, although the engine was new, had a body, we discovered, like the "Wonderful One-Horse Shay". We had inherited it as too old for the Embassy in 1947 after hard war usage by the Army in Chungking.

Mid-August is not the most comfortable time to pass through the Turfan Depression and along the desert road to the South, but the urgency of getting the party over the mountains before the bitter cold set in as well as the approach of the fighting from the East, were factors against further delay.

Despite our being dressed in our lightest clothing, we found the heat oppressive as we entered the Depression (470 feet below sea level), but with Dresden and me taking turns at the wheel, we brought the jeep into Toqsun by mid-afternoon. Our only gauge of the temperature that day was the clinical thermometer of the first aid kit which stuck at its maximum, 108 degrees.

We were told at Toqsun that it was cooler in the mountains further ahead so we pushed on and after a short stop at a nearby stream under the trees, where Dimitri and Erwin turned the jeep upside down and patched up a broken spring, we drove on into the foothills until the jeep got overheated and stopped. We just spread out blankets on the sand and went right to sleep beside the cars.

At daybreak it was cool, and the cars pulled magnificently, and we got over the Kanan-chose pass with no difficulty. Coming down from the mountains, however, we began to encounter mosquitoes so we decided to avoid water and habitations at night and camp in the desert rest of the way. We passed streams several times each day and to counteract the heat we stopped and let the children bathe. But on August 18 as we were crossing the 140-mile waterless, sandy stretch between Karashar and Bugur with a following wind, which necessitated frequent stops to cool the engine in the great heat, the children asked to be helped down out of the truck for a "swim". Later this day Vice Consul Dresden shot a gazelle and we had vension for dinner and again drove on for another mosquito-free night stop in the open.

August 20 we had the steepest slopes of the entire motor journey and they were not easy as, by now, the brakes on the jeep were completely useless. To slow down I had to shift to lower gears and to stop, run off the road into a bank or shift to reverse. As we were parking for the night the jeep's steering wheel suddenly whirled uselessly in my hand. Something was drastically wrong.

"Text morning, after Dimitri and Erwin had repaired the steering connection with wire, we had no further trouble until noon. Just after I had crossed a bad bridge, the steering gear went out again. This time a more thorough job was done on it. That night we got another surprise. The jeep's frame was cracked.

"We started out driving cautiously but found during the morning that a bushing on the left front wheel was dangerously loose. It was not an easy road for a crippled jeep. The frequent drainage ditches that we would come upon suddenly were hard to cross smoothly with no brakes, there were long stretches of deep sand, and several unbridged river crossings.

"My wife had by now come to consider the jeep as our personal enemy. Dresden and I could, however, not bring ourselves easily to abandon government property in the desert, particularly since we were now but one day out of Aqeu, where it could, if necessary, be left with the Chinese Army. I

lightened

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guarantees were given but of such a route as this the caravan owner felt it necessary to protect himself with an ominous statement of being unable to take responsibility for delays "due to acts of God."

The horses started off unloaded on September 3 with us expecting to follow by motor with personnel and baggage, to join them and leave Khargalik by September 12.

The travel papers for the party had still not been arranged, though since our arrival I had been bedevilling the passport office several times daily. On September 2, I again dropped by to inquire whether any news had yet come from Tithwa about this troublesome problem which was now alone delaying our departure. The chief of the office said teasingly that he had had word that he could not issue the alternative travel papers in lieu of passports as discussed with him earlier but added, with a smile, as I started to protest seriously, that he could now give us real passports. The solution of the passport problem gave us tremendous relief for we had been greatly worried lest the Provincial Government should turn over to the Communists, as we expected it almost hourly to do, before the National Government's telegraphic authorization came through--in which case, of course, it would never be passed on to Kashgar.

Consul General Sathe had agreed to issue us after I had written him a letter giving the Department's authorization for the transfer of the two white Russian chauffeurs to another post not yet designated.

With this promise of passports and visas we were in a jubilant mood as we set out on the 12th to a picnic with the Sathe's, the Acting Pakistan Consul General and several of the Soviet Consular staff. While some of us were busily observing the attempts of the drivers to extricate one of the cars mired down on the picnic ground, Dr. Allen-Merah, demonstrating to the Russians a safety catch on his shot gun, accidentally pulled the trigger. A load of bird shot went through the leg of one of the Sathe's servants at about twenty feet. It looked very serious for a while but, as soon as the hemorrhage was brought under control, we called off the picnic, took the injured man home and with prompt treatment at the Indian-Pakistanian Consular clinic he was out of danger in a few hours. While it was an unhappy interlude in a party atmosphere we were all thankful that if the incident had to happen at all, no international complications resulted, as might well have been the case had some one other than the doctor happened to hit another target than the one he did.

That evening more trouble came from another unexpected quarter. Then my wife and I were the only guests at a dinner with General and Mrs. Chao, he told me that a "small mutiny" among the native troops at Yarkand had just been reported and asked us to postpone our departure for a few days until he had more information about conditions along the road. Before we left, however, he gave me an official letter (previously requested in order to provide whatever protection was possible if the Provincial Government should go over to the Communists before the Army had been defeated) addressed to all troops under his command asking that we be given every assistance.

The next day bazaar rumors supported General Chao's talk of mutiny in Yarkand, which lay right across the motor road to Karghalik, the usual take-off point for Leh caravans, and it was reported that instead of quieting it was increasing in seriousness, and twenty truckloads of troops had gone to fight the mutineers. Accordingly, I again took up the possibility of our party going out via Gilgit and was told positively that this was out of the question. Then I inquired whether we could go by horse over a side road around Yarkand to avoid the fighting. After considerable discussion the caravan owner agreed that, though difficult, it would be possible to go across the desert to Karghalik, by-passing Yarkand, so I asked for an interview to seek General Chao's approval of this travel but could not get an appointment for two days

and,

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and, hearing a rumor that he had gone personally to Yarkand to settle the mutiny, finally went to the Military Headquarters without an appointment and asked to see his chief of staff or any responsible officer. The Chief of staff saw me promptly and while we were talking General Chao himself came in and said that he would raise no objections to our travel by caravan around Yarkand, but believed it would save considerable time if we would wait only a few more days and travel by car. The continued postponement aroused my suspicions that perhaps the delay was deliberately planned under orders from the Provincial capital (which was full of pro-communists) to prevent our departure.

The whereabouts of our horses, which we feared, might have been caught in the Yarkand embroglio, had to be ascertained before we could make any decision as to our own movements. The only means of obtaining news was from travellers coming from the fighting area or by going in that direction personally to investigate as commercial telephone and telegraph services East of Kashgar were broken off. Anxious insofar as possible to keep the party together (a principle adopted early in the travel), we decided to wait until the tenth for word of the horses before making any further movement rather than to go ahead by jeep to investigate conditions. Meanwhile the bazaar talk was that the rebels had no Communist affiliations, in fact were fearful of the expected turnover, but were mutinying merely because they had not been paid for seven months by the Division Commander at Yarkand while the loyalists had divided the inadequate funds that had come in up to two months previous. These reports added that the twenty truck loads of troops had been ambushed by the rebels. They were said to have killed or scattered the troops and burned their vehicles and also blown up bridges on both sides of Yarkand over rivers too deep for cars to ford.

The tension of inaction while our travel was perhaps being blocked indefinitely was serious so, having received credible word on the tenth that the horses were waiting at Yengi-Hissar, about half-way to Yarkand, I decided to call on General Chao on the 11th and see what his reaction would be to our attempting to start out with our party and baggage to go as far as we could by motor on the 12th. This was some definite plan at last and made us feel much better.

The 11th I called on the Chief-of-staff to tell him what we were planning. General Chao appeared also at this interview and stated he had no objections to our going to Yengi-Hissar to check on the situation, provided it was clear that we did so at our own risk and that he would not be responsible for any accidents that might befell us on the way. I accepted this and spent the rest of the day with my wife and Dreesen, paying the essential courtesy calls of farewell. Meanwhile my wife had started making American flags for the two cars, the need for which had not been apparent when we left Tilmay, but, as we might soon require clear identification, was now urgent. She had bought the cloth, in good material and color, at the bazaar and, getting the assistance not only of the women of our party, but also of Mrs. Sathe, soon had them satisfactorily done, except for the stars on the second of them which she sewed up the next day as we drove.

Miss Gultekin Sabri, the grown daughter of the former anti-Communist Provincial Chairman, Mesud Sabri, had called on me several days before to inquire whether she and her two somewhat younger brothers could accompany our party to India. After making clear that they would have to make independent arrangements for their travel, food and shelter on the way, I agreed to permit the three young people and the ex-chairman's adjutant to join our caravan when it started on the trail, urging her to keep the project confidential in the interests of both groups.

At 11 the morning of the 12th, we started off in the same order as before, with, in addition, Gultekin, Hiviljin and Yalchin Sabri (the grown daughter of the former Chairman and her two brothers, who were going to Turkey to study).

Lt. Col. Davut Raschid

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Lt. Col. Davut Rasohid (the adjutant), Sali Haji (the caravan owner), Pandit Behari Lal (the Indian merchant who was so helpful in organizing the caravan), Toran Ahun (one of the caravan men), and Yuan (a Chinese military driver, assigned at my request to bring the truck back to be taken care of by the Indian Consulate General at Kashgar). The truck, though carrying a much smaller lot of gasoline, had more baggage and people on it, but even so was considerably less over-loaded than most vehicles on the road in this area - nine tons are common on a 2-1/2 ton truck.

We had received no telegrams for a week already and were to be without communications with the outside world for a month and a half. We were on our own.

We travelled without incident to Yengi-Hissar where, the jeep brakes being once more useless, I nearly ran into an excited soldier who tried to halt us with a bayonet before I could explain why I could not stop at once when he suddenly stepped out from behind an open gate in the city wall. This difficulty amicably adjusted and our caravan horses traced, we found out from the military authorities that the road ahead as far as Qizil, some 40 miles from Yarkand, was reported safe and they saw no reason for us not to proceed. We therefore sent the horses ahead and, once they had started on the road, went on to Qizil ourselves.

This small village was a narrow oasis along a stream that crossed the road and so insignificant that we went beyond without knowing it and had to return. On our way there we passed twelve empty military trucks, about half of the drivers responding to my waved hand.

We slept in the open in a sarai at the road side. I had a night disturbed by a cough. The caravan horses and donkeys came in about midnight, and, of course, we all wakened at dawn with the sun in our eyes.

The animals made the first of their many late starts, which were to trouble us many times in the ensuing weeks, not finally getting on the road until 8:30. We followed at once, and soon passed them in our vehicles. We had heard that two trucks had gone through Qizil before dawn toward Yarkand with General Chao and his party. This seemed to indicate that the road would soon be open. So we pushed on to Kok Rabat, which we found deserted, except for troops which made no effort to detain us, and continued on toward Yarkand, leaving word for the animals to follow by the main road so they could take the party on if we found any bridges out.

At a point less than a mile from the Chinese city of Yarkand, we were stopped by an officer in command of a company who said that General Chao had established field headquarters nearby and soon came back with his card recommending us to the commanders of both the loyalists and mutineers and requesting safe passage for us. Having been held up so long and with the risk of further indefinite delay, I did not hesitate to follow two horsemen with a white flag who led us on to the first mutineers' post, with the truck close behind. This we passed without question but on arrival under the walls of the Chinese city of Yarkand, held by the loyalists, we were ordered to halt, while I explained who we were and where we were going to an officer among the heavily armed troops managing us from the city walls, some forty feet above, and awaited the consent of their commander, whom I knew personally, to proceed. (We were conscious of a three-day old corpse in the ditch nearby.) When permission was received we thought our passage had been assured through the mutineers' lines by the truck-flagged horsemen, but someone obviously did not get the word as, on the avenue between the Chinese and the Turki cities, we were suddenly stopped by several soldiers who had heard nothing of any safe-conduct for our party and said they had orders to permit no one to pass. They looked trigger-happy and I was relieved that my shift into reverse had worked smoothly.

However, we had only a brief delay before we were permitted to proceed into the Turki city, through which our road, which had skirted the Chinese city unavoidably went. At the gate on the other side we were detained for over an hour before we were finally permitted to pass. Although I established

a friendly

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a friendly feeling with several of the Chinese soldiers, I was told that the commanding officer of the mutineers was in conference with General Chao and we could neither see him nor go on without his consent. When we were at last passed through the gate we were told that there was one more rebel outpost up the road, but that General Chao's card to their leader should get us over this difficulty. We had travelled for about half an hour when we heard a shot and saw a group of armed men covering the road ahead from both sides. I stopped the jeep and walked up the road alone toward the men making it quite obvious, by keeping my hands away from my body, that I was unarmed. I was received with typical Chinese courtesy by the sergeant in charge and, after explaining our identity and mission, showed him General Chao's card. He sent for a junior officer who seemed most suspicious and told a somewhat higher ranking officer who came up a few minutes later, loud enough for me to overhear, that I had probably myself added the recommendation to the Major in command of the mutineers, written by General Chao and with his seal attached. After discussion they agreed that I must go back and obtain clearance to pass from their headquarters in the Turki city. They agreed to "assume responsibility" for the truck-load left in charge of Dreesen with Shakul as his interpreter, and to send one of his officers with us in the jeep, so I decided to make an exception to the principle of not separating the party. On arrival at the rebel headquarters, I was at once shown in to see the Major who was extremely apologetic for our inconvenience and delay due to a "family quarrel" which, he said, had no international bearing at all and sent me back promptly with our accompanying officer bearing orders for us to be passed without further difficulty. Again we were greeted near the stopping point by a warning shot, but this time did not even slow down until we came up to the truck and delivered our officer and received the go-ahead from the sentry post. We then drove some twenty miles further until we saw a group of loyalists when we stopped our vehicle again and went forward on foot to meet them. They made no trouble at all so we drove on further to a village where we stopped to eat, our first real meal since breakfast some nine hours before, though my wife had persuaded me to choke down a piece of hard Turki bread covered with honey. My throat which had been sore all day began to be seriously painful, driving in the fine sandy dust of this road; I could eat nothing and began to feel, for the first time I ever recall, doubtful whether I could finish the day's job. After two hours more driving in the dark without brakes on a strange road, we arrived, weary and shivering from a cold rain, at the Magistracy in Karghalik where we were billeted in the best rooms they could provide.

It was with difficulty I received and talked to the several local officials who made courtesy calls consuming another hour but this ordeal over, I dropped on my bed with my face scalding to my own touch and the rest of my body shaking with cold. Feeling exhausted, I told my wife I preferred going to sleep at once rather than waiting while she trudged back to another courtyard where the truck was parked to get the first aid kit. From her pocket she gave me some aspirin which helped the pain considerably. Listening to my rapid breathing during the night she sensed I was seriously ill, and when I awakened early the next morning she had the thermometer at hand. My fever was 102.4. Since I presented no other symptoms she acted on the assumption I had a streptocococic sore throat and began administration of sulfadiazine. She told Dreesen I should not have visitors, so he obligingly stationed himself in the adjoining room and received all callers the whole day on my behalf.

My temperature had reached 104.4 by evening but began to fall the next day and after an additional day of rest I was quite well again. I was cheered with the news the caravan had got through Yarkand (the authorities of both sides respecting our request, had let them pass) and would be in Karghalik in a few hours.

The next day while the horses rested and ate, after having made double stages without food through the disturbed area, we completed our final purchases. These included fresh vegetables and fruit — two big baskets making

a whole donkey load —

upstream, lost little distance and, shaking himself vigorously, was soon dry and content although he had a distinct distaste for these chilly crossings. The sheep enjoyed the experience even less. They had to be forced to swim and having little liking for that mode of travel sometimes found themselves swept over 50 yards downstream. One struck a rock and broke its leg, thus becoming mutton for that night's dinner.

Leaving the lovely but wearisome Fiznaf River we turned sharply up the road leading to the 15,700 foot Yengi Davan (New Pass). Here we had our first trouble with altitude. Some of the party complained of headaches and all suffered shortness of breath. The horses, indicating their distress by frequent toasings of the head, were given relief from the increased blood pressure when the caravaneers elit the nostrils with their sharp daggers and allowed blood to flow off.

Once over the pass we had good going for the second week, following the bed of the gentle Yarkand River, which is here so wide that it is easily fordable. After the bare rocky gorges we enjoyed the profusion of tamarisk--with the red, brown, and gold colors of autumn. Along the Yarkand, fuel was no problem.

The terrain was not the only factor we had to deal with on this second week. There was a tricky problem at Kokat, the last Chinese military post on the journey, which we reached on the 26th. Although the most authoritative maps show the Indian border at the Yengi Davan, Kokat, at the juncture of the two Sinkiang caravan routes, from Karghalik and Khotan, is garrisoned by the Chinese. The border has never been formally delineated and nothing to nourish man or beast grows at either Kokat or the Yengi Davan, the Kokat station having to be supplied from several stages to the north.

Our problem here was to arrange for the party to pass. We, fearing lest the Provincial Government turn over to the Communists before we arrived, had already obtained, before leaving Kashgar, a letter from General Chao, requesting assistance from all troops under his command (in addition to the National Government passports for the non-American members of the party).

Carrying this letter, Lt. Col. Davut and I rode ahead of the others. As we approached the fortress, on an eminence commanding the flat, sandy plain below, we saw two machine gun nests which were manned and kept us covered as we walked up the slope to see the man in charge. These precautions, we later found, were due to reports reaching the post from outlying scouts who, seeing Drenen's three sporting weapons, had ridden in to alarm the garrison with word of a big caravan approaching "heavily armed." Presumably the news of the Yarkand mutiny had reached Kokat and they were afraid that our party might consist of looping troops. In view of the machine guns commanding the passage and our lack of any cover, it would have been impossible for us to have rushed the fortress and forced our way past, although we had earlier considered this possibility. Therefore when they asked us to "check our shooting irons," I felt it wise to accede to their request, despite my reluctance to disarm ourselves. I insisted, however, that we keep our ammunition, without which our own weapons were useless.

The sergeant in charge said that he had received no instructions concerning our passage and could not permit us to go on without them. We presented our undeniably correct travel papers and the letter from General Chao. He pointed out that the letter merely requested that "all assistance be afforded" but did not mention permission to proceed. In some exasperation I stressed that all the assistance we wanted was arrangements to permit our passage and took pains to emphasize the serious results that he might suffer if our travel was held up unnecessarily, as we had all the required documentation.

Finally, he

-12-

The next morning, October 11th, we had to face the fact that matters had taken a serious turn. We had been out of firewood for days and had to use for camp fires in addition to our three small gasoline stoves, whatever dried dung we could find along the road. The toll of death among our animals had crippled the movement of the caravan. The surviving beasts were in a precarious condition. The road was worse than even the caravaneers had anticipated. The store of provender for the horses and donkeys had already been depleted for two days and, while we had hoped that supplies and help from human settlements would soon be available, we were making agonizingly slow progress and the animals were becoming weaker. The caravan-bashi had already ridden ahead to seek food and yaks to replace lost horses, but we had no certainty what he could find or when he would return. The rest of the caravaneers were exhausted and their low morale was contagious. They moved like men in a trapway. They changed shoes on horses that they could not be sure would walk the day through. They carefully kept unloading and rearranging packs with no improvement and petty quarrels and reorinations broke out. Their own mutton supply was gone and meat is the staple food of the Turki diet. The last stupid sheep had wandered away, perhaps to be eaten by wolves. We began to ration our dried mutton reserve among the caravaneers. We were still days from any help.

While it was clear that I knew little about directing a caravan, it seemed the time had come for someone to hold things together. At 11:00 I insisted that we start and go as far as we could. I pointed out the possibility that the caravan-bashi might be able to find no help and while we waited for the people as well as the animals might all starve. We kept on moving slowly until 7:00. The road showed little improvement. We lost two more horses in the afternoon and four donkeys and their two drivers did not show up until next morning.

It was noon when we finally got started again on October 12th, despite all my fuming, with conditions worse than the day before, and we stopped at 5:00 making even less distance. We did not, however, attempt to question this decision; here there was a little grass for the animals; we did not know how far ahead the next stopping place would be; and the pack animals were all in a deplorable condition. The saddle horses were tired but with luck could probably make the rest of the way to habitation at Panamik. Still we had to allow for the Kurl pass which lay between us and safety. That night we told the caravaneers that we would start off the next morning before eight with only our bedding rolls on our saddle horses, leaving them to bring up the rest of the train at their own convenience, and we would speed up Samlok's relief party, as much as we could. To be separated from adequate quantities of food, clothing, tents, and equipment if we should be delayed in this desolate region after we left the pack horses was a chance we had to take.

We were off at exactly 7:30 the next morning (seeing no reason to alter our plans because of the arrival, just as we were starting, of two Tibetans carrying loads of hay) and, most of us leading our horses to spare their strength, went up the well-graded road to the top of the Kurl pass. We had a thrill when a herd of nine ibex came casually roaming across the road above. Dreesen had carried his gun on his back the whole trip. He had had several shots at Tibetan antelope and some mountain sheep in the earlier mountains without success but had better luck with chikor, ram-chikor, and duck. Now he dismounted and stalked the ibex while we waited, too interested and frozen to take the spectacular picture these wild inquisitive creatures, as large as donkeys, would have made. Dreesen was able to get quite close and felt sure that he pinked one of them with two shots of his carbine, but its caliber was too small to bring down the big game and the whole lot of them ambled away at leisure for less excited than we had been. My wife prosaically remarked she didn't know what we would have done with an animal that large when we had no horse strong enough to carry any extra weight. She felt that the chikor he got a few miles farther on were much more practical.

We came over the crest of the pass at 9:15 and could see in the valley below green trees, cultivated fields, and store houses, the first signs of human habitation since we left Khoja Nazar twenty days before, except for

our

-3-

the Panamik yaks which had been engaged to go on to the next village. The third day we started off on the last leg of the road journey down the easy Panamik valley dotted with houses and fields and an occasional monastery dramatically situated like a hinheland robber-baron castle high on the slope of the nearby mountainside, until we reached Tirit.

At Tirit it was so comfortably warm that we did not pitch our tents at all but merely went to sleep under the trees in an apricot orchard. Our caravan problems were not over, however, just because we had reached habitable areas. Other factors were disturbing the pleasant Ladakhi custom, whereby every village used to be obligated to assist caravans on to the next village. Panamik had done this but in Tirit we were not able even to contact a responsible person. Reports along the route said that, owing to military conscription of animals for army transport in the India-Pakistan struggle for the area, it was impossible to find yaks for ordinary travel. The Panamik drivers said they dared not go farther without specific authorization from their head man, a day's journey behind. Rather than wait indefinitely while a messenger went to arrange transport, we decided to go on with only the baggage essential for the next few days and try to reach Khardong Serai, where we were told we could expect to find a responsible English-speaking officer, the next night. He, we hoped, would provide transport to return to Tirit and bring the baggage left behind on to Leh.

Khardong Serai found us in a high altitude again, and we were chilled from a long day's ride. We found no responsible officer but only a lance-corporal with little authority and a mere smattering of English. I had to talk to him through Pever (English-Turki) and Torsun (Turki-Urdu). This complicated the exchange of ideas so seriously that it took careful planning to arrange through him, despite his obvious good will, even for our minimum essential requirements. He allocated quarters in his barracks to us so that we all slept well sheltered; the room for the three Americans we found contained a folding chair, which we took turns sitting on--a luxury we had not enjoyed since we left Karghalik more than a month before, an amazingly enjoyable experience after its long lack.

To cover the road from Khardong Serai to Leh, it is the general practice for caravans to use yaks, which though slower can carry heavier loads and are sure footed enough to take passengers over the glacier--in the interim allowing the horses to follow unloaded. Following this plan, we saked for enough yaks to carry the twenty members of our party and the small amount of baggage we had with us to Leh and requested that arrangements be made as soon as possible to bring on our baggage off-loaded a day's journey back at Tirit. We were informed that no yaks could be obtained. It was now much easier, they said, for horses to cross the glacier, since the Indian soldiers had recently cut new steps in the ice. Then we discussed this situation with Samlok, he said that, in the condition our animals were, the saddle horses might go through; but the six neck horses could carry only about half their loads. We had to face proceeding with less than our essential baggage, without even tents, the lack of which would have caused considerable suffering to our party if it had to spend the night unsheltered in the severe cold of this high altitude.

Our plea that special efforts be made to procure five yaks for us as a minimum was met with an answer that an attempt would be made and a reply given us by 10:00 a.m. the next morning. To our great relief they were found and, leaving as soon as they were loaded, we encamped at 3:00 p.m. at the last running water before the glacier.

Samlok, sensing trouble ahead, advised an early start for the Khardong Pass over the glacier. He intended to get off promptly as daybreak, but, having no time pieces, he began arousing some of the group at midnight and the Americans by 2:00 a.m. Although we submitted to eating our oatmeal and

coffee

-15-

coffee at 3:00, we resisted getting up and facing the strong cold wind outside the tent until 5:00 which was ample time to get the peaks loaded and the party off by daybreak, about 6:00. We little realized how long it would be before we would again have anything to eat or drink.

The yaks, slowest moving of the entire caravan, were, unfortunately, the last to be loaded. I finally helped the two Tibetan attendants by holding the nose rope after the beast had twice slipped away from under as the men were lifting the load in place. These creatures are admirably independent beasts and accept being driven only in the general direction of the path rather than on it, choosing their own way without being bound by previous precedents. They tread on ice as daintily as goats and are reputed never to slip off the path.

It was bitter cold--I should guess at least fifteen degrees below zero (Fahrenheit)--our noses were cracked and nipped with frost and the ears of several, including Drosen's and mine, had frozen spots. As we wound our way up the pass, the long, steep, boulder-stream path was shaded from the sun until we were approaching the summit. The difficulty of breathing in an altitude of over 17,000 feet and the great effort attending each movement for beast and human rendered our progress painfully slow. At eleven we came to the last trying part of the trip (the only real mountaineering problem encountered) of crossing a sig-sag path on the slippery ice which, though totalling only some 500 yards, took almost an hour for us to traverse. We reached the beginning of the path with the baggage train and saw the non-Americans dismounted and already started over the slippery spot. Erwin's two-year old toddled some five dangerous yards from his mother's to his father's outstretched hand while we all held our breaths. Then the caravaneers, stepping lightly as cats (or yaks) on the sheer ice with no special foot-gear to help their fearsome skill, began getting the loaded donkeys across. These intelligent creatures were reluctant to venture on the uncertain foot-ing and quite rightly so as several of them slid right off the path, three or four of them continuing on for fifty yards or more before they were finally stopped. Looking a quarter of a mile on down the steep slope of the smooth, bare ice, we saw that it led, not to a level spot at the foot of the mountains, as the Sasser Glacier had done, where many of our party had coasted to safety, but to an ominous, dark lake.

The rest of us found even to get on to this trail (never broader than a foot and with stretches of more roughness in the ice) was not simple, as the saddle horses of those who had gone on and were now at or near the summit had been left standing on the first fifteen yards. We had to brace one foot against the outside edge of the path while, sitting on the inside ice, we put the other past the horses' feet one at a time. These sturdy creatures were most cooperative and hardly moved during our passage, though one of them, when my foot slid in against his, lifted it and my heart was in my mouth lest it should put its hoof down on my foot again before I could move. A crushed ankle at this point would have been serious. But we eventually got past the standing ponies and, while the rest of the travel to the top was not easy even for people (much worse for animals--all of which were unloaded for this passage), it was reasonably safe, if taken slowly, as in fact it had to be, in view of the effort each movement cost in the oxygen-short atmosphere. For some, that jewel of a guide, philosopher and friend, who had been taking care but unobtrusive ear of my wife in all horse-and-road problems throughout the journey, never shone so brightly as now. He offered to carry her pick-a-back. She chose to struggle through on her own feet but was grateful to hang onto his arm while he pointed out each finger and toe hold she had to use. Finding each successive pass more difficult to cross from the cumulative exhaustion of this long journey, despite the bitter cold, she took off her outer coat to reduce the weight she had to carry and still found it hard going. She had to puff five minutes after each two minutes of exertion while her heart pounded so wildly that she complained to me of her chest aching. Once we reached the summit and bare rocks again,

she

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she lay wearily in the sun for some fifteen minutes before her breath came back enough to start down the snow-free slope to Leh. Torsun pointed out this little town, dimly visible in the valley some 5,000 feet below us, seeming to encourage us that our troubles were over.

I sent Torsun back to help Dreesen and the caravaneers get the horses across and we, with all the rest of the party, started walking down. About half an hour later, Torsun rejoined us--we had not gone far--with the alarming news that Dreesen's horse had slipped off the path and was lost. It was some time before we got the clear information that Dreesen himself was safe. His strong, young buckskin had carried Dreesen the whole trip, often up side trails where the road was rougher but hunting was better. We could recall often seeing them against the skyline, Dreesen, mounted on his rawboned pony with his gun across his back, wearing a huge, red beard which gave him a determined look like Bringham Young might have had on his long trek. Dreesen had tried hard to save the horse but the treacherous ice made it nervous and, after several falls, panicky. It struggled to death from exhaustion almost as quickly as older, weaker animals did who proceeded more quietly. This last hard pass took a toll of three saddle horses and one pack animal.

I hoped Dreesen with the horses and donkeys (assuming their loads had been carried over the ice by the yaks) would be over the glacier within an hour or so. As it happened, the yaks were considerably delayed by their habitually slow pace and, when they reached the glacier, merely marched across with their own packs easily enough but were not brought back to help with the horse loads. The caravaneers had to carry the baggage piece by piece on their own backs on this treacherous transit. Helping the animals step by step required hours. Dreesen, according to Samlok's later report, did the work of five caravaneers and stayed on the job until the last animal reached safety just about dusk.

While we were waiting for the horses and baggage to come on, we had been busy with the people who were now all safely over the pass. We encouraged even the weakest to keep moving, however slowly, to reach an atmosphere with more oxygen as soon as possible. We had sent Torsun ahead, at his own offer, on a fast walk with a note to the Indian Army officers at Leh requesting them to despatch six horses to meet the women and children and bring them in to the end of the trail. Not knowing the real distance to Leh, we expected help much sooner than it could come.

This was our first experience of being without even saddle horses. The fathers carried their small children and the tired women walked slowly on down the pass. The sun was still high, but there was no food nor bedding nor shelter, which might mean death if we were benighted at this altitude and low temperature. Several of the party, including my wife, became very drowsy from the altitude and cold and begged to sleep a little while in the sun; but we kept urging everyone not to delay going on to the bottom of the pass.

On the trail below the pass, after we had walked an interminable distance, we met three caravans going up the path and got various estimates of the distance to Leh, generally getting longer the further we went but none as long as the true twelve miles we had to go from the summit. At long last, just after dark, when we were all staggering from weariness and progressing, with stops, considerably less than two miles an hour, we saw a flash-light gleam, and I yelled "Torsun" and got an answering reply "Consul Sahib." My wife and I had remained with the last of the stragglers and the rest of the group had already reached their destination, mounted or afoot. Since it was already quite dark, it was a relief to be on fresh horses enough for all the travellers remaining and to follow a Tibetan guide into the city.

To

-17-

We arrived at the Indian Officer's mess at half past eight o'clock the evening of October 21st to find a warm welcome awaiting us. They had been most thoughtful in arranging to have us met by an English missionary couple, the Drivers. Mrs. Driver poured innumerable cups of tea which we drank eagerly, as this was the first food or drink we had had since our breakfast at 3:00 that morning. Soon after we had a good dinner and went to sleep in a real bed. Dr. Gujral, of the Indian Army Medical Corps, and Lt. Karter Singh, both Sikhs, were kindness itself and provided not only their best room for us and good accommodations for our entire party, but made us feel really welcome on our own account. Our anxiety about Dreenen was relieved when we heard his voice at daybreak outside our door. He had arrived with the last of the caravaneers at one o'clock, and spent the night at the sari, not wishing to disturb our hosts. All twenty of the surviving horses (originally 35) had come in safely and the remaining loads, left at the top of the pass, were brought down within two more days. Now that we had reached safety, the drive and persistence of Samlok and his men on this last difficult day made us overlook many of our past irritations at procrastinated starts and insufficient provision of fodder, which might have had disastrous results.

We had to wait twelve days for transport to be arranged by the Indian Military Officers for the baggage left at Tirit. In the meantime, I had Dreenen and half of the party take the first Indian Airforce plane to Srinagar and thence on to New Delhi by the Embassy Air Attache's plane.

All the caravaneers escorted the baggage so long; delayed at Tirit to the airfield on its seven yaks when we left to bid us farewell. The trail had been hard riding for us. These men had travelled the whole 450 miles on foot. We had reached safety. They would wait until their spent horses had rested and then would have to walk the whole way home again--home to Sinkiang under a new regime. Samlok declared with emotion that he would gladly take us again over any caravan trail in the world. We, for our part, felt that no Central Asian trails need hold any terrors for this company that had been tested and had passed, without any human loss, through such dangers together. We shook hands heartily.

We left Leh's 11,500 foot airfield (claimed to be the highest in the world) on November 2, accompanied by all our baggage and the "It" who had again travelled alone from Tirit to Leh, across the Khardong Glcier, three days after our departure and was now going to a new master in Shinagar. He complained loudly about the cold and noise in the plane but eventually settled down on five or six little Lhasa absos who were also frightened and all kept one another warm.

From New Delhi to Washington by air is normally only a matter of some forty-eight hours but we had to wait ten days for our inoculations to become valid for international air travel. During the interim, we visited many old friends in New Delhi. At Karachi our plane connection was delayed by weather long enough to permit us to meet Stanley J. Wu and his wife, Lily, employees of the Consulate in Tihwa, whom we had last seen there when we left on August 16. The Chinese commercial plane on which they had had passage from Tihwa to Canton never arrived, and they had left just as the Communist regime was taking over in Sinkiang, coming out from Kashgar over the Gilgit route through Pakistan. We were proud of their initiative and stamina in making this trip without American company or support.

We had seen Dreenen off to his new Bombay assignment, had farewell to Twin, Dimitri, their families, Davut, and the Sabis, as we took the plane in New Delhi, Jimmy and Lily Wu at Karachi and Enver Shakul, his wife, six months old baby and sister Fatima at Istanbul. We flew on to New York by way of London, Shannon, the Azores and Bermuda. This delayed our arrival until we reached New York late Friday night, November 18, with no avoidable delays on route. The next day was the Yale-Harvard game and a holiday at the Department. This was the first time I had had an opportunity to see my college team in action since I was graduated in 1922 and the first victory of the site over their ancient rivals I had ever seen and it was a glorious victory. I arrived in Washington November 10 and reported promptly to the Department.

GENERAL NOTE

1. Estimated 3 tents necessary - 1 for Mr. and Mrs. Paxton and Mr. Dreesen
   1 for Mr. Shakul and family and 1 for the remainder.

2. 2 cooks are essential - check whether cooks are accompanying the party.

3. Each party to carry own food and water separately.

4. Warm clothes necessary including felt socks and boots.

5. Small boxes to be made for carrying children on horse. 1 horse to carry 4 children.

6. 20 days after Kargaliq hot springs occur, clean water suitable for bathing but not drinking. Place, Panamik.

7. No deep water experienced on route.

8. Wind not usual but strong winds may blow; however, tents could withstand blast.

9. Kerosene - necessary 5 gallons.

10. Lamps - 3 good lamps.

11. Stoves - 1 in case of emergency or for heating baby's milk, etc.

12. Each person to carry a saddle-bag containing snacks, water bottle, aspirin, dried fruit and any other personal requirements. Object: not to delay whole party by stopping for small individual needs.

13. Suggested foodstuffs, etc. to be included amongst articles taken from Kashgar - cakes, butter, sugar, tea, coffee, 2 buckets, cooking utensils.

14. Suggested foodstuffs, etc., to be included amongst articles taken from Kargaliq - wheat flour, 2 sheep (to be slaughtered at Kokyar vegetables such as potatoes, onions, carrots, and eggs.

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us from what might otherwise have resulted in acute suffering.

7. Agreement has been satisfactorily reached on all points. This particularly applies to the penalty clauses in the contract. Avoidable delays and the use of our animals for the transport of the caravan's commercial goods could justify withholding a portion of the remainder of the pay on arrival here. We have, however, agreed that the tents which Dr. Malik will not be using and our sleeping bags will be carried by the caravan free of charge in exchange for our waiving all penalties.

We trust you heard All-India Radio's report on the 25th of October and thus learned of our safe arrival and hope you will fare well under the new regime in Sinkiang.

Kindest regards to you and Mrs. Sathe from both of us and many thanks for the loan of the tents which proved invaluable.

Leh, India

October 26, 1949

My dear Torsun:

We shall always remember you as the person who shared an unforgettable experience with us and whose help made it endurable.

It was a comfort to be able to rely on your unfailing dependability. We never had to worry about your getting up early, preparing meals on time or conscientiously caring for all our property whether food, utensils or personal effects. Nothing was lost at all.

Your cooking was substantial, wholesome and always clean. You cooked excellent camp dishes unassisted and were always willing to learn and prepared well anything new we took time to teach you.

Your unfailing courtesy to my wife and the rest of the staff as well as to Mr. Dressen and me was remarkable even when the days were long and you yourself were cold and weary.

We could rely on your always being near enough to assist us when we needed help and we appreciated your tact which allowed us privacy when we wished to be alone.

Over the two difficult/trossings and the two glaciers it is doubtful if my wife could have come through without your assistance. She feels she owes her safety in great measure to your sympathy, skill and effort.

We also wish to thank you for handling the negotiations for extra transport at Panimik when the caravan-bashi had failed, as well as your interpreting from Turkı to Urdu with the military authorities at Khardlong, which was our only means of communication at that crucial point.

Your long walk from the Khardlong Pass into Leh and your arrangement for sending saddle horses to meet us, where none were available nearer and the cold at that altitude might have caused serious results, gained the respect and gratitude of the whole party for your strenuous efforts.

I can only aid that you have shown yourself invaluable as cook and general assistant and heartily recommend your services to any traveller between Sinkiang and India.

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Fatima typed letters reporting our arrival to the Indian Consulate General at Kashgar.

The "It" came in today from nobody knows where but it is believed he was last seen at Tirit.

## October 27

Now that we have clean clothes we did the bravest thing imaginable - took a bath in an unheated room!

Tirit baggage still not here.

Took walk through the countryside and took pictures of threshing wheat.

Colonel has an essay to write so after a short period of reading we went to bed early.

Hall and I are both reading "Where Three Empires Meet" and we feel impatient with the author's inattention.

## October 28

Very cold day. Took a walk to keep warm. Found ice on all the small streams. The sun was under a cloud all day and snow fell on the south mountains.

No baggage from Tirit and no plane.

In the afternoon we dropped by to see the Drivers but they were not at home.

We had a fire and lamp early tonight. I have almost finished reading "Pride and Prejudice".

On our walk, but to the military cemetery we took pictures of farmers plowing for winter wheat.

The sky is clearing tonight. We hope planes can come in tomorrow.

## October 29

The weather is still colder and cloudy. It is too cold to sit and read so we visited the foreign graves behind the compound and went a half mile outside the city to the cemetery of the Moravian Christians. We were surprised at the number of foreign graves in a settlement of this size. From dates on the stones we realize that a number died in a short period of time - a typhus epidemic!

Tried to read "A Night in "Ombay"" but gave it up for some short stories and poetry.

The Leh Head-Teacher came on business at tea time but refused tea as he is a strict Hindu.

There are no signs of baggage coming today and weather conditions are growing worse. Hope there will be a clearing by tomorrow. Colonel Kaul has now sent two soldiers and will send an officer tomorrow.

## October 30

Awakened to find snow on the ground, the hills white and the Khardong Pass entirely obscured by the storm.

Hurried through breakfast to go to church. The Tesseldar led the service commemorating the harvest festival. There were big green cabbages, red tomatoes and huge turnips 8-10 inches in diameter making the church full of color. Bags of grain were also given. All these were sold and the proceeds given to the church.

After church we came out to hear news that a soldier reports there is someone's baggage at the pass.

## October 31

Mr. Alishah, a merchant friend of ours from Kashgar just came over the glacier and states while he is not clear just where our baggage off-loaded in Tirit is he believes it is underweght way.

Weather today is too bad for planes. It is cold and hard to concentrate on reading.

Further delay here seems dangerous with winter setting in and plane service possibly discontinued so have decided to take the next plane whether baggage from Tirit has arrived or not.

## November 1

Went to the air field expecting a plane. Word received that plane had come part way and returned to Srinigar because of weather but would make a second try.

While/

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While we were waiting for the outcome of the plane's second try the baggage that had been off-loaded at Eritre was brought to the air field at 10:00 AM.

News came that the plane will not come today.

Returning to the Military Headquarters to wait for tomorrow's plane we finished our business with the caravan men. They will be returning to Kashgar soon.

To cheer us up our hosts had some Ladakhi dancers entertain us tonight.

November 2

Two planes came in today and the weather was perfect so we got off taking all the remaining baggage at 9:00 AM. We reached Srinigar at 10:20. ( It takes twelve days by caravan.)

We took rooms at Nedu's Hotel and had Army and Air Force guests for supper. It seemed strange wearing a dress again.

November 3

Went with a merchant to his store to buy Kashmir articles. Tried to get money from the banks but they kept saying we shouldn't have come past the port cities with American money as it was illegal not to have changed it there. They did not know how to deal with Americans who had come into India from the north over the mountains. Finally the merchant loaned us enough for our purchases and also our hotel expenses.

Got a reply from Delhi that the plane will be in at 10:30 tomorrow.

This afternoon we visited the Shalimar gardens, had tea with a captain in the Indian Army and supper with Air Force Officers.

November 4

We left Srinigar at 11:00 and arrived at Delhi at 2:00 PM. Colonel Middleton and Mr. Bisbee, with a cordial note from Mr. Donovan regretting that a previous engagement prevented his personal appearance, met us at the air field.

Delhi seems hot.

We are settled in the Imperial Hotel and hope to leave in two days. Met Messrs Donovan, Jones and Parsons at the Embassy.

November 5

Went to the Embassy this morning and inquired about transportation. Will not be able to leave for ten days after the administration of inoculations required on international air lines.

Took typhoid, cholera and plague vaccine. Felt ill and arm quite sore and feverish at the tea at the Chinese Embassy today.

Talked to correspondent from "Time-Life" about article on our trip which "Life" has asked for together with all the pictures taken on the way. Interviews also with "New York Times", "New York Herald Tribune" and several Indian news correspondents remind us we are permanently back in civilization now.

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longer I know him.

Bob killed two gazelles and two prairie chickens. The gamey taste was a little strong for me but the others enjoyed fresh meat.

The Sathes asked us to stay with them here while we get travel permits and have caravan arrangements taken care of. We will travel over the mountains by horse and on foot for the next three or four weeks.

We heard that Landhow fell to the Communists this week. It is well we didn't attempt to travel that way.

Things are very comfortable here with scads of servants, daily bath, tea before breakfast and good food.

PS (Hall) Vincoe insisted on accompanying me in the decrepit jeep so we pushed everyone else out, drove as carefully as possible and got through all right with a good deal of luck helping our efforts.

North Serai, Kizil, Sinkiang
(65 miles from Kashgar)
September 12, 1949.

We didn't have time to write yesterday because we began to make plans to leave Kashgar. We had been delayed for some time because of unrest in the area. When we finally got permission to try to move, Hall decided to strike while the iron was hot.

He attended to official goodbyes and I set to work making two American flags for the cars. Our caravan had already left Tihwa and forty-some miles away sent a horseman back to ask us what they should do. We told them to wait until we came in the cars.

We were invited to dinner by the Pakistan Vice Consul. I took along the flag I was sewing on and worked till I was blue in the face on the stars but it takes a long time to make 48 on two sides. The other women completed one. I actually finished mine up on the road.

We found our caravan at 1:00 PM and after two hours got them started on the way. We have come on ahead and are 24 miles away from where we found them. They will come in late to-night.

Now we have washed our face and hands in a nearby stream and Hall is reading as we sit side by side on a log waiting to see how our new servant-boy will come out on trying to cook for us.

The serai is a mud brick walled enclosure where we have parked the cars. We will spread our beds and bedding later and sleep in the open beside the cars.

Now I must go help the cook with his menu. He's cooking over an open smoky fire and finds it rather tearful when we talk.

PS (Hall) I tell Vincoe that we should be home before this letter and so it is no use writing it, but this may be partly due to my bone-weariness from driving the brakeless jeep all day yesterday and negotiating permission to proceed further than our military authorization from Kashgar permitted at the start. Now there are twenty people depending on my decisions for their travel; some are tricky ones (more like guess work than reason) and I mustn't make any mistakes or the whole expedition may fail. Without Vincoe's taking all the load off my shoulders that she possibly can, we could never do it, but as it is, with her help we may bring it off.

Pusar/