Spy Among the Huks

David Jones did not look like a spy. He had suffered no longtime itch to be one; he became one on impulse. A skinny Negro, born in Missouri 36 years ago, he had gone to high school in Kansas City, learned radio mechanics, roamed the U.S. as an itinerant radio technician. Some months ago he started out for Japan to try for a civilian job with the U.S. Army. He got as far as Manila, stuck there.

In the Philippines, David Jones was impressed by the earnest efforts of Defense Secretary Ramon Magsaysay (TIME, March 19, et seq.) to rout out the last of the Communist-led Hukbalahaps--but he wasn't much impressed by Philippine army intelligence. At the Y.M.C.A. in Manila, Jones bet a fellow boarder $100 that he, David Jones, could do better than Magsaysay's G2. He went to the flamboyant Defense Secretary and offered to try his hand at espionage. Magsaysay accepted : "You will either make good your boast or a fool of yourself."

Mouth & Ears. Jones took to hanging around poolrooms and corner stores in the central Luzon town of Angeles, giving out that he was "wanted" by the army. "At first it wasn't easy," he said. "Those Huk fellows don't trust anything that's got mouth and ears. But what really clinched my story was when, by arrangement with Magsaysay, I had my hotel room raided by the army while I was right across the street talking to a Huk contact man."

The Huk decided that Jones was O.K., took him into the mountains. The first Huk notable he met was an ex-G.I. named William Pomeroy, of Rochester, N.Y., who serves the Communist rebels as a sort of propaganda director. "He had about 15 bodyguards around him, armed to the teeth," Jones said. "Here we were, two Americans, one white, the other colored, both wasting their time thousands of miles from home, one for a foolish creed, the other for a silly bet."

The trip from the supply base to the Huk stronghold on Mt. Dortz--a 500-acre plateau, 4,000 feet high and only 15 miles from the U.S.'s Clark Field--usually takes the tough, nimble Huks eight to ten hours. With David Jones, who was constantly stumbling and slipping, it took 17 hours. "We never hit a public road, just trails, and there was no stopping except when it was time to eat."

Roast Buffalo. Once on top, the Red leaders took Jones to a house and grilled him. "They asked me all sorts of questions, and never showed a sign whether they believed me or not." When they began talking among themselves in Tagalog, Jones thought his goose was cooked. But they finally accepted him as a member of the band and celebrated with a feast of roast carabao (water buffalo).

"At first I told them I was a Communist," Jones said. "But even the kids in the place knew more about Marx and Lenin than the average American knows about Lincoln, so I changed my story and told them I was wanted for smuggling.

"Every day it was up at 5 a.m., calisthenics before breakfast and work between meals, except for a two-hour siesta after lunch. Meals for the whole day were cooked early in the morning, to keep government planes from spotting smoke. Man, those Huks had a pretty high-class outfit up there. Enough arms and medicines, acres of farms, plenty of bread, even carabaos. They had weddings and dances and pin-up girls. The leaders wore good clothes and their fingernails were manicured."

Back to Radio. After two weeks of it, Jones persuaded the commander to send him down to Manila for some radio gear. Once in the capital, Jones got his information to Secretary Magsaysay, who immediately sent 6,000 soldiers converging on Mt. Dortz from four sides. They routed the outnumbered Reds, destroyed 57 buildings, killed more than too, including Peregrino and Rebecca Taruc, cousin and sister of Huk Army Commander Luis Taruc. Exulted Magsaysay last week: "We have just disrupted the biggest and most active Huk regional command in central Luzon and seized what was probably the Huk army's most strategically located stronghold."

In addition to his $100 bet, David Jones collected a $5,000 reward from Secretary Magsaysay. But despite his. triumphs, Jones had no intention of making espionage his career. "I'm no cloak & dagger man," he said. "I'm going back home and stick to radio, yes, sir."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.