One day Bugs told us he was going to have individual conferences with us. During each study session he'd confer with one or two in a small cell next door.

I did abandon this tactic once during my opening session with Bugs. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to argue religion with him, especially since I'd read “Problems of Leninism”; however, our discussion of the topic didn't last long. He stopped it by saying, “I don't know much about religion, so we'll discuss some other subject.”

These one-on-one meetings didn't last long, probably due to the lack of cooperation on our part. In fact, the formal study sessions ceased altogether when Bugs simply no longer appeared. We returned to our own books.

For me, one of these books was the Bible. I had requested it be sent from home, and the prison authorities had allowed me to have it. I, and others who borrowed it, read it through. It also served us well in the church services we held on Sundays. We'd pray, read a passage from the Bible and then discuss it. We also sang some hymns but discovered no potential choir soloists.

About this point we learned of the invitations sent to our families by the Chinese. A prison official came to talk to us and through his interpreter told us that the wonderful Chinese People's Government had decided to invite our families for a visit. He told us to mention this in our letters and encourage them to accept the invitation.

That night a discussion period took place regarding this interesting turn of events. We all agreed that we did not want the families to come. We were not at all certain how safe they'd be, but even if chances of their being harmed were negligible, we did not want our captors to realize any propaganda gains from such a visit. We decided not to mention the invitation when we wrote. We were to learn later that back home the reaction to the invitations were just what we'd hoped for. The families saw them for the propaganda ploys they were and rejected them. This was a difficult decision because it was felt that if the families accepted the invitations the prisoners might be allowed to return home with them. However, for the time being the Chinese government was to be denied the opportunity of appearing magnanimous in this fictional production. The families were confident that the captors would find another “reason” for releasing the prisoners.

Spring arrived and with it came an amusing incident which developed out of the dismantling of the stove. The Shoemaker was the attendant on duty. I hadn't known him before, but he had been named by the other crew members because he had delivered their shoes, while they were all in a common cellblock earlier. The Shoemaker was supervising, and the younger men were doing the work. These guys were full of the spontaneity of youth, being in their early twenties, and were often the cause of some funny incidents, most of them at the expense of the guards or attendants. This event was no exception.

When it came time to remove the stove pipe from the cell, the two sections would not part, and, connected, the pipe was too long to be taken down inside the cell. The only solution was to push it throuogh the hole into the courtyard. The “boys,” as they were sometimes referred to by us “oldsters” of near, or beyond, thirty, tried to explain this dilemma to The Shoemaker. Either he didn't understand, or he didn't want the work to involve the courtyard. Whatever the reason, there was a stalemate which lasted for only a few seconds. The “boy” who was standing on a stool holding the pipe looked at the others and shrugged. The others nodded, so he grasped the pipe with both hands and gave it a mighty shove, sending it flying, out into the courtyard, like a rocket from a launcher.

The poor Shoemaker was aghast. He literally jumped around, thoroughly beside himself. We finally got him calmed and convinced him of the wisdom of letting someone go into the yard to retreive the “missile.” The dismantling was then completed.