Very surprising to me, however, was the number of religious related incidents I experienced from sources within this hospital in Red China. There were several throughout my captivity, but the following were the initial or the most directly connected episodes. others I'll mention from time to time.

I learned that the little lady with the bound feet was not the only Christian in the hospital. Shortly after my arrival, I heard a female voice, moving down the hall outside my room, singing “Hark The Herald Angels Sing.”

A minor glitch in my recovery caused another event with religious ties. After all the wrappings had been removed from my hands, I found that the tip of my left thumb would not heal. The very small portion which had been frostbitten would seem to scab over then start to emit pus. One day Number One came in and I showed him the condition. He examined the thumb, picked at the “scab” unsuccessfully with a pair of tweezers, then tapped on it. With a surprised look he exclaimed, “Bone!” They hadn't noticed that the thumb had been bitten badly enough to expose the bone. So another, in the string of operations, was scheduled to snip the exposed bone so skin could grow over it.

The day following the “bone discovery” I was taken to the operating room late in the afternoon. It was Saturday and Number Three was on duty. He was considerably younger than either of the other two doctors, perhaps in his early thirties, and his manner barely betrayed his lack of experience and lesser self-confidence. Number One was present also, as was a short, pert, rather cute nurse. She was another who had ministered to me, but whose name I didn't know. The room seemed empty with only the four of us there and emptier still when Number One left after giving procedural instructions to Number Three.

The doctor and the nurse set up the equipment, then he gave me a “local” in my thumb. While waiting the short interval for the anesthetic to take effect, the nurse pointed to the cross around my neck and they both smiled. To my amazement, they began to sing Christmas carols in Chinese. An unusual scene developed. He snipped at the bone, she wiped flowing blood, I provided both the thumb and the blood, and we all sang carols!

“Hark The Herald Angels Sing” must have been a favorite. We also sang “O Come All Ye Faithful” and others I've forgotten. I didn't even try to catch the Chinese words. We were just having a good time.

After the first song, the nurse looked down at me, smiled, and said “Hoa?” (Good)

I replied, “Ding hoa!” (Very Good!)

The operation was over much too soon.Before retiring, I would slide out of bed and kneel beside it to pray. One of my guards who had become disenchanted with me for reasons I'll explain later, ridiculed me for this. He said that Eisenhower prayed and he was no good; therefore, I was no better than Eisenhower. I felt I'd been classed in good company.

The next day we argued about religion. He maintained that they, the Communists, did not pray and they died, while we prayed and we also died. Conclusion: Our religion was of no value to us. Though I tried, I doubt that I could have convinced him of the errors in his reasoning, even if there had been no language barrier.

I was astonished when he, laughingly, pantomimed the crucifixion of Christ. I thought his idea of a joke was really crude, but then he was a crude individual. His educational level was low, and his emotional stability showed up as a definite weakness.