entered but couldn’t believe it. After all this time and why would you be here? It seemed impossible that it could be!”
Philip gasped a breath, his mind dizzy. “Prem? Corporal Prem?” He stood up shakily, keeping one hand against the wall to keep himself steady. “How the hell did you get here?”
The small Nepali quickly snatched his hat off his head and stretching himself up snapped into a smart salute. Before Philip could tell him to stop he was bowing with his hands together. Straightening up, he was smiling, his face glowing with joy.
“I’m working, sir,” he laughed. “I live in the lowlands in a small town called Okhaldhunga. We come up here to trade with the Tibetans. We are all still together. After we left the army we returned to our homes but didn’t want to settle back onto the land. Trading was the only way we could earn money.” He shrugged. “With our profits and the army pensions we live well.”
“We?” Philip queried. “Who else is here?”
Prem laughed again. “There are ten of us in total, all from the old platoon. Look,” he said, indicating towards the bunk beds. “They are all here.”
Philip looked over and saw a group of shadowy shapes get to their feet. Several saluted him. He smiled and raised his hand weakly, overwhelmed by the appearance of so many familiar faces from so long ago.
“Why are you in Nepal?” Prem asked. “I am guessing it is something to do with the British climbers on Everest?”
Philip nodded, relieved to be able to talk about something else. “That’s right,” he replied, “although I work for a newspaper, The Times in London. I’m reporting on it rather than doing any of the climbing.” He smiled weakly. “At the moment I’m chasing about after another Englishman from a rival paper who we think has got a radio. Bit silly really.”
The other men had come over and one by one Philip greeted them. It was like a dream, perhaps induced by all the alcohol, but the hands he shook were real. Faces he’d long shut from his mind stood before him, glowing in the weak light of the fire. The warmth of their greeting made him giddy, their joy at meeting him palpable and he struggled to cope with their undisguised happiness. He felt it but fought the emotion down, scared that it would overcome him. After all these years of not knowing, it was too much.
He turned to Prem, trying to anchor his mind in the present. “So what is it you trade with the Tibetans?” he asked in as steady a voice as he could manage.
“We bring tea and rice with us which are grown around our town. We trade them for salt that they bring from the plateau and also their thick wool. We can sell this back in the lowlands for a good profit, although the Tibetans are hard barterers.”
“When did you leave the army?” Philip asked, so many questions forming in his mind. “Straight after the war?”
Prem shook his head. “No. We stayed until the regiment was transferred to the Indian Army when there was Independence. After our time together the platoon was rebuilt but it was never the same. We decided it was time to spend more time with our wives and children, to build a life here before we were either too old or were killed.”
Philip smiled weakly. “You have a wife?”
Prem nodded. “And three sons,” he added proudly. “Life has been good to me since my return.”
A silence fell, Philip conscious that the Nepali wanted to know about his life but was perhaps too polite to ask. He couldn’t bring himself to reply and a silence fell, so one by one the men said goodnight and returned to their sleeping places. Soon only Prem was left and he too raised his hands together in a parting gesture.
“I’ve often prayed to see you again. During the last Sakela festival I gave offerings for you for allowing my life to continue.” Slowly he reached out his hand and placed it on Philips arm. “We often wondered what happened. We would talk around camp fires during the war and our hearths
Philip gasped a breath, his mind dizzy. “Prem? Corporal Prem?” He stood up shakily, keeping one hand against the wall to keep himself steady. “How the hell did you get here?”
The small Nepali quickly snatched his hat off his head and stretching himself up snapped into a smart salute. Before Philip could tell him to stop he was bowing with his hands together. Straightening up, he was smiling, his face glowing with joy.
“I’m working, sir,” he laughed. “I live in the lowlands in a small town called Okhaldhunga. We come up here to trade with the Tibetans. We are all still together. After we left the army we returned to our homes but didn’t want to settle back onto the land. Trading was the only way we could earn money.” He shrugged. “With our profits and the army pensions we live well.”
“We?” Philip queried. “Who else is here?”
Prem laughed again. “There are ten of us in total, all from the old platoon. Look,” he said, indicating towards the bunk beds. “They are all here.”
Philip looked over and saw a group of shadowy shapes get to their feet. Several saluted him. He smiled and raised his hand weakly, overwhelmed by the appearance of so many familiar faces from so long ago.
“Why are you in Nepal?” Prem asked. “I am guessing it is something to do with the British climbers on Everest?”
Philip nodded, relieved to be able to talk about something else. “That’s right,” he replied, “although I work for a newspaper, The Times in London. I’m reporting on it rather than doing any of the climbing.” He smiled weakly. “At the moment I’m chasing about after another Englishman from a rival paper who we think has got a radio. Bit silly really.”
The other men had come over and one by one Philip greeted them. It was like a dream, perhaps induced by all the alcohol, but the hands he shook were real. Faces he’d long shut from his mind stood before him, glowing in the weak light of the fire. The warmth of their greeting made him giddy, their joy at meeting him palpable and he struggled to cope with their undisguised happiness. He felt it but fought the emotion down, scared that it would overcome him. After all these years of not knowing, it was too much.
He turned to Prem, trying to anchor his mind in the present. “So what is it you trade with the Tibetans?” he asked in as steady a voice as he could manage.
“We bring tea and rice with us which are grown around our town. We trade them for salt that they bring from the plateau and also their thick wool. We can sell this back in the lowlands for a good profit, although the Tibetans are hard barterers.”
“When did you leave the army?” Philip asked, so many questions forming in his mind. “Straight after the war?”
Prem shook his head. “No. We stayed until the regiment was transferred to the Indian Army when there was Independence. After our time together the platoon was rebuilt but it was never the same. We decided it was time to spend more time with our wives and children, to build a life here before we were either too old or were killed.”
Philip smiled weakly. “You have a wife?”
Prem nodded. “And three sons,” he added proudly. “Life has been good to me since my return.”
A silence fell, Philip conscious that the Nepali wanted to know about his life but was perhaps too polite to ask. He couldn’t bring himself to reply and a silence fell, so one by one the men said goodnight and returned to their sleeping places. Soon only Prem was left and he too raised his hands together in a parting gesture.
“I’ve often prayed to see you again. During the last Sakela festival I gave offerings for you for allowing my life to continue.” Slowly he reached out his hand and placed it on Philips arm. “We often wondered what happened. We would talk around camp fires during the war and our hearths
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