Around the World in 50 Years by Albert Podell Page B

the forms, wondered what would happen, and waited. A few started packing and closing their houses. But Saturday came and went, as did Sunday. And Monday. And Tuesday. There were no planes, no evacuation; only more directives and rumors.
    When we weren’t discussing the rumors, we listened to the shortwave set, perhaps the biggest rumormonger of all. First, we’d tune in to Radio Pakistan and hear that: “The brave Pakistani armies are advancing and inflicting heavy blows upon the aggressor in all sectors. Our brave jawans have destroyed 63 American-made Indian tanks in the Sialkot-Jammu section in the last 24 hours. Our gallant airmen shot down 21 enemy planes in today’s action. We have lost only one aircraft.” We’d then pick up All-India Radio to be told that: “The Indian Army is advancing. In a fierce battle in the Waggha-Attari section, we’ve smashed 56 enemy tanks while losing only two of our own. Indian jets brought down 42 Pakistani planes today, with no losses.”
    By the eighth day of the fighting, our running tabulations of the tanks and planes allegedly destroyed by both sides exceeded the combined losses of the Allied Forces in WW II.
    Bowling had no guarantee that any evacuation could be arranged; his request had been met with three days of stony silence from the government. They then told him that no planes were available for charter inside Pakistan because they’d all been turned over to the military. When he explained he intended to bring in U.S. Air Force transports, the Pakistanis refused approval, claiming they couldn’t risk having American planes land in Dacca as long as the airfield was being bombed by India. When Bowling pointed out that there really hadn’t been any such bombing, they said that, in any case, the airport was reserved for Pakistani aircraft.
    When word that the Americans were trying to evacuate reached the citizens of Dacca it caused an outraged uproar. The government helped it along, channeling the peoples’ frustration about their inability to quickly defeat the Indians into an outburst against America. Thousands marched through Dacca to the USIA and the American Consulate, protesting our aid to India and our “refusal to help Pakistan in her hour of trial.” The locals threw rocks through windows and beat up Westerners. They severed all social relationships with Americans, even close friends. No American could walk or drive through town without fear of being attacked. The son of President Khan called Americans “warmongers with the Bible in one hand and Stengun in another preaching their weird doctrines to unreceptive audiences,” and suggested that a mass uprising could prevent our departure.
    Two days later it appeared that the Pakistanis might give the green light, for they presented Consul Bowling with a long list of items—gold, jewelry, cameras, radios, Pakistani money—that were declared war contraband and could not be taken out in an evacuation. This gave heart to the American community because it was the first sign that the Pakistanis were genuinely considering the evacuation proposal.
    The hopes aroused by the directive were quickly dashed the next night by new rumors that ran through the foreign community. Steve was sorting our equipment at Mike’s house, and I was concealing our film inside the linings of our suitcases, when a British consular friend of Mike’s came rushing in. (No foreigners communicated anything important by phone anymore because the lines were tapped by the secret police.) He reported that the Pakistanis had decided to forbid the evacuation and hold the Americans hostage to prevent the Indians from attacking Dacca.
    The next morning there were still no evacuation planes, but there were still more rumors: “The Pakis might allow Bowling to get the women and children out, but all men will have to remain behind.”
    The following morning, a USIA staffer came