Some remarks

BENJAMIN SHERBAN, CAMP 16, CZECHOSLOVAKIA, to GEORGE SHERBAN
in SIMLA
I have things to tell you, my little brother! But how is another matter. One thing after another, I hear you say? Right. Here goes. You were here the day before the "Friendship Tutorial" was destined to begin. We did not know what to expect. I thought luxury and opulence, carrying on the grand traditions of Karlovy Vary, that baroque consolation of the Bourgeoisie, for their hard lives, ditto of the Party Bosses and their hard lives. But not at all. In a splendid shell, all gilt and cupids and rubbishy splendour of all sorts, behold, functional cells for us students, and common rooms conducive only to spartan thought. Two hundred of us. Cream of the cream. All under twenty-five, including the Chinese, our mentors. Equal numbers of men and women. And adequate austerity and no privileges for anybody, including the Chinese.
The other three of us arrived, in the end, but late: they had had difficulties. I made myself known to them and the instructions were passed.
The various artefacts were placed as advised.
We ate our meals in the former hotel dining room, lush to the point of lubricity, but the food was mostly potatoes-and-lucky-to-get-them.
The Chinese, ten of them, mingled from the start, very correct but friendly. They let it be understood that for the first few days nothing would be organised. The agenda: we were to get to know each other. The agenda when further pressed: informal discussions on the problems which face us.
Which are?
The relations between the Youth Armies and the European subject masses, correct attitudes towards said subject masses.
This was not at all what was generally expected. Which was of course tourist trips hither and yon, interviews with the Bosses, being photographed on cultural monuments, and probably a year in a Chinese city as honoured guests and all that crap.
Faced with this "agenda" you can bet there were informal discussions. At which the Chinese did not appear at all. They let us get on with it. We then concluded that the expected rewards for good behaviour and "co-operation" would be nothing so crude as above, but jobs and offices of various kinds in the new structure controlling the said populations. In other words, we decided - and still think - that the top layers of the structure of the Youth Armies will be incorporated into the Overlords Administration. Time-honoured stuff of course. But then, if it had not always been so effective, would it be honoured? In other words, we were being faced with the complete loss of autonomy of the Youth Armies - such as it has been - but we are not expected to mind: on the contrary, we must allow ourselves to be swallowed whole without a protest.
But do not think I carp! Since this is bound to happen, at some point and we all knew it, I, they, everyone, am, are, is, overwhelmed with admiration as usual at the smooth tact of our Chinese Benevolences, such a nice change compared to you-know-who, and what a pity they feel themselves too good to learn useful lessons from our Beneficial Rulers.
Right. So much for the framework, which is not the burden of my information, only the background.
The above-mentioned "informal discussions" went on day and night aided by (moderate) alcohol, (well-tempered) sex, eternal friendships being sworn between Alaskans and Brazilians, South Sea Islanders and Irishmen, lassies from Cape Wrath and denizens of the Cape of Good Hope, everything as usual.
Everything exactly as usual, and as to be expected, all the attitudes being struck that the Benevolences were obviously wanting us to get out of the way before serious discussions could begin: "Never will I bow my head..." "I would die sooner than..." "Do they think they can buy..." etc. and so on ad pukeam. But after a few hours the atmosphere changed, and this is where I rely on your interpretation. Bearing in mind that during this phase our mentors were always discreetly elsewhere, appearing only for meals, charm and friendly likeability personified.
The aforementioned atmosphere. It took me some time to understand what was happening, and then, to believe what was happening. On that very first morning I was with twenty other people, collected together at random, in a former billiard room, transmogrified into a setting for We Shall Not Be Moved! all sitting about casually, at ease, talking on the theme, if-they-imagine-they-can-buy-us, when it came into my mind that everything we were saying could be interpreted differently. On a different level. This seemed so wild that I put it all down to being up until four with Her Amiability from Abyssinia. (No, talking.) After lunch, turnips-and-lucky-to-get-them, I was with another group of about twenty, in another room. We were discussing the possibilities of co-operation with Their Benevolences, when I realised it was happening again, and this time stayed with it, and did not push it away with "but it's impossible!" The atmosphere was remarkable, clear and cool, those are the words I think. Everyone very alert, quick, getting every point, eye contact saying volumes where words did not. Not only I, but everyone realised something peculiar was happening. After all, I had had the advantage of being in on similar occasions with you, when operational. But everyone knew. Each one of us. And yet if the Beneficials had been present, they could have sat through from start to finish and not heard one subversive word.
And so the next three days.
You will not need me to spell it out.
I was always with different associations of people, according to how they formed themselves at the moment when an "informal discussion" was due to begin. Often in different rooms. But it was the same in all the groups. Our three particular friends confirm this: we did discuss it a little, but there was no need to. More and more it happened that after that kind of transparent talk, we would find ourselves sitting silent, for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes at a time. More. An hour once. Nothing said. No need to say a word.
And when we were actually talking, the two levels were unmistakable - clear, so easy to read that it was as if we all suddenly had been taught another language.
Well, while these informal and casual discussions were going on, we of course all came together in the big dining room for meals. At which we all sat in that high calm atmosphere that made us one. And the Chinese could make nothing of it. They kept starting discussions and themes, but after a minute these simply died out. We could see they believed we had got hold of drugs or something like that. We could see that they were beginning to be affected too. They didn't like it. We knew they were meeting to discuss it. Meanwhile, we enjoyed another two days of being by ourselves. There was one session when we - the usual random lot - went into a room, sat down, and not one word was said for the whole morning. There was no need for it. And then the Benevolences changed tactics and at each "informal discussion" each group had a mentor. They did not change what was happening. When we were actually talking, there was nothing to be heard by them that wasn't on one level "sensible." But once or twice there started the long silence, which they broke, out of nervousness.
Right.
End of good tidings.
Beginning of bad tidings.
There we all were, on the sixth day, all so far from our usual silly selves that it made us positively sick to remember them. And then, there appeared at breakfast a man who did not introduce himself, but he just sat there. The Chinese did not know who he was either. That was clear. Though they pretended after first surprise that he was not a surprise. Or at least some of them did. As usual, we were saved by the fact that it is quite impossible to brainwash everyone to the same degree all the time. Some of our mentors were able instantly to put on a good face, offer a united front, but others not. And this was how we knew this particular Benevolence was unknown to them.
But what a creep. Type international technocrat, enough said.
The Bland Man at once introduced himself into one of our discussions, the one I was at, as it happened. He came in smiling. He sat smiling. I tell you, I have long since reached the point that when I see a Certain Smile I wish only to reach for my gun.
The atmosphere was... not the same.
It thickened. We all of us kept starting topics, and in the spirit of the last few days, but anything said fell flat. Literally. That is exactly what happened. Words sent up like kites into the air of expectation guided by the string of concord went clunk. As if shot by an airgun.
Right?
We all sat there struggling to rise again like kites foundering on the hill of disappointment and inability.
Before lunch, I made the rounds and found, as I expected, that all the artefacts you had given me had gone.
At lunch there was a peevish and irritable spirit in the dining room. The Bland One sat there, as at breakfast, by himself.
Again the Chinese were obviously disturbed by his presence, though pretending not. Unmistakable however that emanation: this-is-incorrect-and-I'm-going-to-catch-it-if-I-don't-watch-out, if only because one has been so often conscious of emanating it oneself.
After lunch I did not stay in one room, but went from one group to another. The Smiling One was with a different group from the one he had honoured in the morning.
The atmosphere had gone completely. Drained away. Accurate, no?
Sucked away?
We did not see His Blandness again. That is, he graced our deliberations for exactly one day. The Chinese, when asked, keep repeating, Oh, everything is in order, this was a Visiting Comrade.
Next day, our "informal discussions" were back to normal, the usual brawling jargon-filled idiocies.
Our particular three friends have simply disappeared. They are not here. Did His Malevolence spirit them away? I cannot find out. The Chinese say they will "make enquiries." They are all thoroughly upset by the whole thing.
Meanwhile, it is clear that people cannot remember what happened during those five days. I mean this absolutely and precisely. When I try to remind them, I see that look I know so well, the glazed empty look. It is funny that it has taken me so long to recognise that look.
And I myself have more than once found my mind going dim as I try to recall exactly that atmosphere, or even that it all did happen.
It did happen.
It happened.
What happened?
At least one knows what is possible.
I have recollected what you said to me as you left that morning: Well, you can't win them all!
Ah, what nonchalance! What insouciance!
Of course there is a question which you can't expect us at the very least not to adumbrate. Which is, Why take so much trouble if you know in advance it is a write-off? At the most a 1,000-1 chance?
No, don't bother to answer.
Just as you said when I told you about Rachel, Well, better luck next time.
O.K., O.K., I am joking.
But only just.
I babble. Of necessity. Forgive me.

I have not been able to find anyone to bring this before. We are coming to the end of the Friendship and Learning Month, which is tedious beyond belief. The usual interminable meaningless bickering discussions about things that will never happen. The Leadership of the Youth Armies has passed a resolution agreeing to "attempt to adjust their activities with the administration of Pan-Europe."

I have several times mentioned His Nastiness to our Benefactors, if for no other reason than that it is amusing to see their hasty, embarrassed and overcorrect manner as they assure us that his visit was entirely in order and approved of.
Ah, but by whom, that is the question.
So, what do you want me to do next.