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'Then my captor had hold of me and； barking harshly； he pushed me towards another part of the camp。 Here； too； soldiers littered the ground。 It seemed pathetic。
'He carried with him a small black satchel which I hadn't noticed before。 It was over this that they seemed to be arguing。 There were perhaps four of them。 They might have been brothers。 Now I regretted not asking my unexpected friend who these men were。 It was clear that they weren't regular army。 To one side； I saw what was obviously a cooking fire。 There was a black iron pot。 By its side was a small pile of what the Japanese called famote； the diminutive Philippine potatoes that taste rather like a conventional sweet potato。 There were also some withered tubers。 These were obviously their rations： all the food they possessed。
'The man who had brought me produced a series of cans he had obviously stolen from our camp。 How he had spirited this food away I could not imagine； but there it was。
〃They began to argue all over again … I suppose about who would get how much。 My captor hustled me away； shoved me down towards a group of supine men。 It was clear that he wanted me to work on them。 Now I understood why I had been spared。 He knew very well what I was。 I began to wonder what else he knew about me。
'I turned to the soldiers。 In truth there wasn't much I could do for them。 I was without my instruments and my medicines。 But they would not have been much help。 My friend had been quite correct in his analysis of the situation。 The Japanese were dying of malnutrition。
'At length I got up； went over to the man who had brought me。
' 〃I'm sorry；〃 I said； 〃but there's nothing I can do。〃
'He hit me without warning。 I didn't even see where the blow came from。 One moment I was standing and talking to him； the next I was on my ass in the mud。
' 〃They need food；〃 I said inanely。
'He reached down and hauled me up。 There seemed to be no expression in his eyes。 He hit me again； this time harder； with the edge of his hand。 It felt like I had been struck by a cement mixer。 I went down and stayed down。
'It was dark when I awoke。 I had a splitting headache and my right shoulder didn't seem to work。 It was odd。 I could wiggle my fingers； even make a loose fist； but I couldn't raise my arm even an inch。
'I was in a tent； lying on something hard。 Now I could tell
it wasn't the ground。 I had my jacket and fatigue shirt on but no pants。 I was naked from the waist down。 I tried to move but couldn't。 My entire body seemed to pulse with pain。 There were flashes behind my eyes and I wondered what he had done to my nerves。
'Shortly after； he came in。 I didn't hear him but felt some stirring of the humid air。 His face loomed over me。 He had removed the lampblack from his face but not the black clothing。 This apparently was his uniform。
'〃What is your troop strength？〃 he asked。
'I understood。 Having proved useless in my healing capacity； I was now a fully…fledged prisoner of war。 I knew what that meant。
'I told him my name。
' 〃How much firepower have you？〃
'I told him my name。
'〃With which units will you rendezvous？〃
'I told him my name。
〃What is the American time…table for link…up？〃
'This time I varied it。 I gave him my rank and serial number。
' 〃When do the Americans plan to launch their invasion of Luzon？〃
' 〃Luzon has already been invaded；〃 I said。 〃By the Japanese。〃
'Then he began to work on me。 He used nothing but the ends of four fingers： his two thumbs and forefingers。 No blades； no heat； no drugs； no wire； no water。 None of the traditional interrogator's tools。 He had no need for anything so crude。
'He worked on me for the whole of the night … more than ten hours。 Oh； not constantly； of course； I never could have taken that。 And at the end of that time there was not a mark on my body。
'He was； truly； a magician。 He worked on the nerves。 Not just the major nerve centres as might be expected； but the nerve chains themselves。 Just his fingers squeezing。
'Everything else ceased to exist。 He saw to that。 It became； after a while； a kind of sensory deprivation situation： I felt nothing but pain。 Even the two or three times I urinated； I couldn't feel it； only smelled it for a time。 Then that； too； was obliterated。
'He used pain the way a clever woman can use pleasure。 You know the way a woman leads you up the pleasure curve； slowly； lovingly； gently； until you're throbbing for release。 She'll bring…you to the brink； hold you there for exquisite moments； then stop until the excitement subsides and she starts all over again。 Finally； when you e； the sensation is better than it's ever been before。 This man used the same principle。 You know terrible pain can bee its own anaesthetic … just like when you fuck too much； you go numb for a while。 So； too； with pain。 Even your nerves have a limit； and after a while they just shut down and you feel nothing。 That can be your only advantage in intensive interrogation。
'By his very technique； this man avoided that。 Again and again； he would bring me slowly up the pain curve； keep me hovering on the brink for long moments … but he never let me topple over into the numbness of the other side。 He knew precisely how long I could take it and brought me down each time。
'All the while the questions were repeated over and over。 Not shouted； the tone calm and even friendly； he spoke in an intimate voice as if we were close friends meeting in a bar； talking about old times。
'It was odd； this bination。 We became； after a while； as intimate as lovers。 I wanted to trust him； to tell him all my secrets； to break down the last barriers between us。 The pain； too； changed over time。 It became … how shall I put it？ … less painful？ Yes； that's it。 Less painful。 I still can't understand how it was done。 Of course； I knew even then that he was working on my mind as well as on my body。 But somehow that didn't help any。 I seemed powerless to stop what was happening。 I felt things slipping away from； me； as if I were losing my balance on slippery ice。 Then even the ice was gone and I felt myself settling down into a kind of muddy slime； sinking lower and lower。 There seemed to be no bottom。
'All this time the pain was ebbing and； as it did； I felt myself wanting to trust him more。 He was my friend and I became guilty at holding out my secrets。 How selfish I was I How unworthy of his friendship。
'It was not numbness which overtook me now … I told you he would not allow that。 It was another sensation。 Pleasure。 It crept up on me while I was concentrating on not answering his repeated questions。 This was taking more and more energy and once or twice I had to bite my tongue in order to stop myself from telling him everything he wanted to know。
'I felt； at that moment； my self slipping away from me； revealing； underneath； another person I knew not at all。 It seemed to me； then； that this man knew more about me than I did and this terrified me。
'Now I found myself wanting to tell him more than ever。 Once I did； I was convinced he would hold and fort me。 The pleasure grew。 I began to rejoice in the pain； to want it； for it was my link with him and I began to feel that I would be lost w