YANKEES AT THE COURT OF KING TONG

New Zealand Listener, Volume 8, Issue 198, 9 April 1943, Page 7

YANKEES AT THE COURT OF KING TONG

JN a recent issue, "News Review" described the fantastic existence which one of the Allied groups in the primitive Burma jungle is leading amid the untamed head-hunting Naga tribes-

men. The story was

written by

Preston

Grover

an Associated Press war correspondent.

BAND of 10 American soldiers led by a sefgeant to-day holds an advanced scouting and listening post in the midst of one of the world’s most primitive jungles, and has made friends with the untamed Naga hillmen. Each night the Americans sit around the bonfire with the wild men, swapping jests, trading rupees and empty cigarette tins for cleaver like knives and spears, but they keep their guns handy. Only a few hundred yards away from the American camp King Tong of the Nagas has a row of several scores of heads of his enemies, Accompanied by another journalist and two American

officers, I visited the outpost after one of the toughest climbs I have ever made. We drove to the foothills, and then "legged" it up 10 miles to the top of the peak where the listening post and the Naga village were situated, Watching for Bombers Sergeant Meyer, who had _ been advised that we were coming, sent eight Nagas to the foothills to guide us. Meyer’s job, with nine others, is to watch for Japanese bombers heading towarde the American airfields of NorthEast India. Each Naga lugged the bedding and food in baskets swung from slings and looped around his forehead. We carried

nothing but field-glasses, cameras, and a "canteen." It was quite’ enough, For six miles we lumbered up and down over the steep hills, along a trail deeply overgrown with 50 feet bamboos, towering trees and wall-like undergrowth. Then there began a four-mile unbroken climb. The watch-tower mountain rose to 3,000 feet, and was so steep that we could take it only in 100-step stages at first and then 50 steps. It took three hours to make the last four miles. "The Heady" Game It was a story-book country. The Naga hillmen wear nothing except a string of beads and a thin strip of loincloth. With

one stroke, the warriors with a dah can cut off a goat’s head, or a human head, for that matter. They are playful as boys, and seem always to be inviting you to play a game of "cut off heady." Just as we reached the top, a party of 20 of King Tong’s warriors with coloured goat’s hair and beads raced down the path towards us. But it was not a war party. It was a funeral party. King Tong’s brother’s favourite wife had died, and the village was wailing as we passed on to the watchtower, The post is situated in "unadministered territory," which the Americans were warned not to enter, but

they did not heed the advice, and found the Nagas very friendly. "That is an old trick," British authorities told them. "We have lost many heads in learning better." But Sergeant’ Meyer and his party did not worry, they were merely watchful. They have rifles, pistols and tommyguns, and pay King Tong 15 rupees a month as rental for the mountain-top. Rent in Advance, Please! Recently, His Majesty asked for three months’ rent in advance. "I am getting married," he urged. He did not get an advance, even though it was his eleventh wife he was marrying. : Later, the king’s counsellor insisted on collecting a hundred rupees for bamboo cut down for building shelters, a messhall, and the store-house. It was a cheap price for peace, and Meyer paid. When we visited King Tong in his large bamboo palace, he referred to aeroplanes which he had often seen, and said he believed we came from the skies. We gave him cigarettes, and got cinnamon bark in return. He apologised for not giving us more. I asked him to pose for his photograph, so he dressed in fresh strings of beads and lacquered bamboo brace- lets. Three weeks ago, one of the king’s elder statesmen was beheaded by a rival tribe in revenge for the head one of his own tribesmen had brought into camp a year ago. The Skull Room His Majesty had us escorted to his display room, where his skulls were exhibited. He has about 100, and apologised because a fire a few months ago had destroyed an additional 100. The village headman under the king wears a top-hat, which is at least 15 years old, but is highly cherished. Another proudly wears an Army cap which a soldier gave him. Before we left Sergeant Meyer and his men were asked if they wanted a new assignment. They replied: "Hell, no! there’s no fun down there!"