Across the Sham Chun

Along the South China coast last week, the rainy season was in full downpour.

The Sham Chun River, which divides Communist and British territory at the edge of Hong Kong, was running bank full. One afternoon, four U.S. Air Force officers sloshed through the muddy approach on the Communist side of the Sham Chun, splashed across the puddles on the bridge at Lo Wu and stepped into freedom. Among the first to greet them was Father Ambrosio Poletti, a Roman Catholic missionary based in Hong Kong, who offered them a pack of Lucky Strikes. Said Lieut. Colonel Edwin Heller, 36, of Wynnewood, Pa., as he lit up: "Gosh! Remember them?"

After months in Communist Chinese prisons, the four--all jet pilots lost during the Korean war--had been abruptly "deported." Colonel Heller, commander of an F-86 Sabre-jet squadron, had been imprisoned for 28 months; Captain Harold Fischer Jr., 28, of Swea City, Iowa, an F-86 flight commander, for 38 months; Lieut. Lyle W. Cameron, 26, of Lincoln, Neb., F-84 fighter-bomber pilot, for 31 months; and Lieut. Roland Parks, 25, of Omaha, F-86 pilot, for 33 months. From the bridge to freedom at Lo Wu, Air Force officers escorted the four pilots to the comfortable Fan Ling Jockey Club in Hong Kong. There, Lieut. Parks flopped onto a well-mattressed bed, spread his arms and murmured: "God, it's good to be out."

Introduction to Gina. The four airmen pulled off the collarless white cotton shirts and blue pants that they had worn across the border and plunged into their first hot baths since they were imprisoned. While soaping, they asked for, and promptly got, Scotch and sodas. Then they put on new civvies, and marveled at the slacks made of Dacron, a cloth they had never seen before. They began to ask questions. Had they been promoted? What were the 1955 cars like? Within three hours from the time they splashed across the bridge, the four were aboard The Bataan (once General Douglas MacArthur's personal C-54 transport), on their way to Honolulu. They savored every bite of filet mignon, drank two gallons of milk and leafed through magazines, admiring pictures of a girl they had never heard of named Gina Lollobrigida.

At Honolulu's Hickam Air Force Base, they went through the mill of physicians, psychiatrists and intelligence officers. Colonel Heller, whose left leg had been broken when he parachuted out of his crashing plane, has undergone repeated surgery in a Chinese hospital, now has a plate in his shortened leg, and probably will need further surgery. Lieut. Parks had an eye ailment; Captain Fischer needed dental work. But in general, all four were in good health. The clothes that had. been bought from, pre-prison measurements fit fairly well.

When official word of their release came through, Secretary of the Air Force Harold E. Talbott personally telephoned the families of the four men to say that the Air Force would fly them to Honolulu for a reunion. After the big Air Force Constellation carrying the families landed at Hickam, the first passenger out of the door was Judith Heller, who had gathered together a whole "trousseau" for the reunion. She paused, looked at the husband she had not seen for 34 months, and gasped. From the throat of Airman Heller there came a choked cry, and then he bounded up the steps toward his wife.

Playing Along. In the foliage-shaded garden off the Hickam Officers Club, the four men met the press. They seemed at ease before the microphones and the cameras, and answered questions promptly and clearly. But they left much untold. As their condition showed, they had been treated well, as Communist treatment of prisoners goes. They had been in solitary confinement from six months (Lieut. Cameron) to 26 months (Colonel Heller), but they were not otherwise physically abused. The food was a Chinese rice diet (with side dishes, said Colonel Heller, that "ranged from seaweed to bird's-nest"), but they did not go hungry. When they were moved from Mukden to Peking, in April, apparently in preparation for their release, there was a great improvement in the way they were treated.

After their solitary confinement ended, they had the use of a library (Balzac, Hugo, etc.). and were allowed to play tennis with crude rackets and a thin rubber ball. Lieut. Cameron, a handy man with an accordion, wangled a cheap Russian model and taught the others to play. They got a daily Communist newssheet, full of propaganda, but saw only one American periodical in all their months of imprisonment: every week, Lieut. Cameron received from his brother, Bob, 21, a copy of SPORTS ILLUSTRATED which the Chinese passed on after inspecting it carefully and clipping out some of the articles.

As the press conference moved on, it got to some touchy subjects:

Q.: Would you say there was any attempt at brainwashing?

Fischer: Well, brainwashing is a rather tricky term. I think that the Chinese call it 'brain-changing' . . . We did have study periods . . .

Q.: Would you say that the attempts to indoctrinate you were successful?

Fischer: Well, I can only answer for my own personal case, and I don't . . . feel that I've changed any since I was shot down. [The other pilots agreed with Fischer's answer.]

Q.: Do you think the Chinese Communist captors thought they had convinced you of their way of life?

Heller: I think that they were convinced that we accepted the fundamentals of their system. After all, we tried to please them to receive better treatment.

Fischer: Well, you more or less have to play along with the game.

The Plea: Guilty. The four had been brought to "trial" suddenly, only seven days before they were released. They were accused of "having intruded into the territorial air of China ... to perpetrate harassing and provocative activities, thereby jeopardizing the security of the People's Republic of China." The indictment was read, and then a "defense counsel," after expressing his anger at the "horrible crimes" that were committed, pleaded for leniency. At this point in their story, the flyers became cautious, obviously protecting themselves and other Americans still held by the Communists.

Q.: Did they ask you to make a plea?

Heller: Yes. They had all the evidence --the aircraft--and we all pleaded guilty.

Q.: Did you, in fact, land north of the Yalu River?

Heller: I think we'll just let that question slide for a while . . .

Q.: Previous to the trial, did you have to sign any confession?

Fischer: I believe I'll just wait to see my lawyer before answering that question.

The Nice Bandits. The release of the four men immediately set off an international argument about who and what was responsible. India's V. K. Krishna Menon, who had just visited China's Premier Chou Enlai, made the first announcement of their release, and was more than willing to take a major share of the credit. The Chinese Communists were anxious to promote Friend Menon as a mediator, in the hope that he would serve them well in the future. But the four released prisoners, the U.S. Air Force and the State Department were careful to direct major gratitude toward United Nations Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjold, who had been carrying on negotiations for the release of U.S. prisoners in China for six months.

In Washington, and around the U.S., there was general agreement about why the Chinese Communists had released the men. The act was part of the Communist peace-propaganda theme being played in harmony from Moscow to Peking. While the U.S. and the free world clearly had a right to be happy about the release of the four airmen, there was no reason to forget that they and the other American prisoners in China have been illegally and dishonestly imprisoned ever since the Korean truce, requiring an exchange of prisoners, was signed. Said a U.S. State Department aide: "It's like a bank robber coming into a bank, robbing and shooting up the place. Then he throws down his gun. And then everyone praises him for being such a nice fellow."

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