Stuart Slade: A Mighty Endeavor

The South Africans were milling around the market place while the accident report was finished. The chicken stand was, in Klaas’s opinion, by far the best food there. “I’ll tell you what, Mother. You give us a right price, and we’ll buy enough to eat now and also for our meal this evening.”

The woman beamed at the polite address and named a price. Klaas called his men over. She had a plate of samples waiting. They were enough to convince the platoon that this was indeed a deal that should not be missed. A few minutes later, the stand was the scene of frenzied activity as her family got to work making up the biggest order for cooked chicken her business had ever seen.

“Sergeant?” A painfully young South African officer was calling him. “The police have finished interviewing the truck drivers. They are reporting this as a sad accident caused by a child not being taught to respect traffic properly. Between you and me, most of the village does not seem too sympathetic to the family and the child was very unpopular with the others

here. Anyway, the division has made a compensation payment to the mother and that has closed the affair. You organized all this chicken for your men? Good move; spending money like this will soothe any hurt feelings in the village.”

“It’s really good chicken, sir. Try a piece.”

The officer did so. a look of sheer delight spread across his face. “My God, man; you’re not joking. Mother, when this order is done, can you make up another for me? The divisional headquarters will have a feast tonight.”

“It will be done, sir.” The woman watched her children redouble their efforts to increase grilled chicken production while making sure they didn’t take short cuts that would affect the quality of her product.

Around the back of the hut, the execution of chickens was reaching holocaust proportions. The family head was ecstatic at the sheer volume of business. He was already working out how to build his family a new home on the profits. He suddenly realized this could be the start of something big. He called out to his wife, “Nyarai, look after our guests well and they will bring many more back. And give the sergeant and his officer some free bottles of beer. You see, that horrible little boy was of some use to the village after all.”

Lieutenant Piet van der Haan was careful to hide his smile. As divisional intelligence officer, he spoke Kikuyu perfectly.

“And so, Madam Ambassador, I would like to formally welcome you to the new headquarters of Jardine Matheson. We’re up and running as the formal headquarters of the Princely Hong as of today. All our key staff and all our records are here. Our agents and clients know that this is where the decisions are made. All the other Hongs are either already here or following. By the end of the year, there’ll be nothing left in Hong Kong except empty buildings.” Simon Keswick hesitated; leaving anything behind for the Japanese upset him. “I wish we could bring them over too.”

“Have you somewhere comfortable to live?” Suriyothai well understood how valuable this alliance would be and it had to work. As much depended on this as it had on the war in Indochina.

“A very fine household, rented on a 99-year lease. And the accommodations you have found for our Chinese staff are more than acceptable. You have worked hard for us, Madam, and your efforts are appreciated. As are those of your army.” Keswick spoke the latter with a dry sense of humor.

The Japanese Fifth Division wouldn’t be capable of doing anything other than rebuild itself. Another division would have to be moved to Indochina to replace it. That meant the planned operation against Hong Kong would be delayed for months. The time so bought had been invaluable in making an orderly move. “I am sure Swire, Hutchinson-Whampoa, HSBC and all the other Hongs will be equally appreciative. It is a pity Lloyds of London have chosen to center their international operations on Bombay, but they were already established there…”

The Ambassador looked out the window at Thanom Witthayu and the construction work going on. The canal down the center had been filled in and the road turned into a modern, hard-surfaced, divided highway to join the city’s administrative center with the explosively growing international business area here. Across the street, the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank had its ‘headquarters’ in a dilapidated wooden house. They had gone to great lengths to be the second Hong to make Bangkok its home. Next to that existing building, foundations for their new office block were already being poured.

Less than a year into the great revolution she had planned and already her city was being fundamentally changed. The buildings going up were a symbol of that. Once, at six stories, this office building had been the largest in the city. It would be dwarfed by the new ones going up along Thanom Witthayu and Thanom Sukhumvit. Already, Jardine Matheson were planning a new and much larger headquarters. Phillip is right; we are going to need a lot of cement .

There was a copy of the latest issue of Life magazine on the conference room table. The cover picture had been taken by Robert Capa. It showed a Thai infantry sergeant bayoneting a Japanese officer. Capa had caught the moment perfectly. The sergeant was in a classically perfect bayonet thrust. The long blade transfixed the officer; its end clearly visible beyond the man’s back. The officer was arching backwards from the force of the thrust; his cap hurled from his head and his sword flying through the air. The caption ‘Japan Meets Its Match’ was, in the Ambassador’s opinion, premature. But, Life hadn’t had access to the long casualty lists from the 11th Infantry to temper its judgement when the front page had been set.

“You kept your promise, Highness.” Keswick looked at the picture also. “All your promises. Your Army fought better than anybody expected. But, I do not think that sergeant will sleep well for many nights to come.”

“You are not concerned about our new Prime Minister?” The change in government had been politically essential, but she was worried about the effects it might have on the business community.

“Khun Pridi? Not at all. He is a good and honest man, an excellent Prime Minister. And one who knows his duty.”

The Ambassador and the Taipan smiled at each other. As always, they understood each other perfectly.

“I know Pridi. A good man, he studied law at the Sorbonne.”

Cordell Hull was ready to acknowledge the merits of a fellow-lawyer. The result of the elections and the ensuing peaceful transfer of power from the National to the Democratic Party had surprised him. He had honestly expected the National Party to win a massive majority, even without rigging the results. That it had not done so forced him to admit that he had seen everything he could have wished, a democratic government, the Japanese defeated and their allies driven back. The situation in the region had been stabilized; temporarily, at least. Even more importantly, with its back door protected, the Indians had felt secure enough to turn a blind eye to the supplies being shipped into Rangoon and then sent to China via the Ledo Road.

“Very progressive in economic matters.” Henry Morgenthau echoed Hull’s feelings. “I have their initial list of proposed purchases from the line of credit we are extending to them. Almost all civilian-sector industrial development. New power stations figure prominently. They want an asphalt plant for road construction and a new University. The University of Chicago has been approached to partner with them and set up their courses. They are also asking us for funding to set up an institute to research and develop snakebite antitoxins.”