 
### THIS IS

### NO

ACCIDENT

Testimonies of a Trial of Faith  
in CONGO, 1964

Told By The Missionaries  
Edited By Leonard C.J. Moules

### WEC Publications, Gerrards Cross

### Smashwords edition

### Copyright 1965 WEC Publications

### Smashwords Edition, License Notes  
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CONTENTS

Introduction

Foreword

Chapter 1 - Promoted to Higher Service — Miss Muriel Harman

Chapter 2 - Promoted to Higher Service — Mr. Cyril Taylor

Chapter 3 - Promoted to Higher Service — Mr. William McChesney

Chapter 4 - Promoted to Higher Service — Mr. James Rodger

Chapter 5 - YUMBI — The Place of National Martyrs

Chapter 6 - LOWA to STANLEYVILLE — Travel Stains of Blood

Chapter 7 - OPIENGE — No Through Road
Chapter 8 - WAMBA — The Ground that Blossoms Red
Chapter 9 - NEBOBONGO — The Place of Harrowed and Healed Lives

Chapter 10 - IBAMBI — Where the Church Triumphant Sings

Chapter 11 - NALA — Hidden in the Forest

Chapter 12 - EGBITA — The Place of Forbidden Fellowship

Chapter 13 - POKO — Holy Ground for a SIMBA

Chapter 14 - MALINGWIA — Shut in with Death, Shut up to God

Appendix

A. - Letter from the Belgian Government

B. - Order of Service at the Congo Memorial Meeting in Westminster Chapel, London

C. - MEMORIAL MESSAGE given in Westminster Chapel, London

INTRODUCTION

The teeming crowds are overflowing the aisles and steps of Westminster Chapel and pavements and roads outside. It is 5.15p.m. on this end-of-winter Saturday afternoon of February 6th, 1965. A waiting occupant of a parked car hears the reluctant comment of one on his way home, "I don't want to leave here".

Over 3,000 have crammed the Chapel, Institute Hall and the Intermediate Hall, to capacity. For two hours we have been Spirit inspired to thank God for His mighty miracles of deliverance. We have been challenged by the lives laid down, men and women whom we shall not see again until we see Him. We have been in prayer that what God requires from this year of suffering and death may be received as a harvest to the glory of God.

I have just returned home. I want the Holy Spirit's electrifying presence, as we have known Him this afternoon, to flow on into the pages of this book. That is what I desire God to do now as I put the pen to the paper of this manuscript.

Possibly, later, a more full and complete story will be told. I hope so. Until then, this is a `stop-gap edition' to tell you the story as we have heard it from the missionaries themselves. Obviously it is incomplete. Much more could be said. What is to be said could be better told. But this is a publication for the immediate, while the memory is, still fresh, that we may rightly, fully and intelligently worship our Sovereign God — our Jehovah.

Turn now into the pages of blessing and when the last is read, pause to listen to God. Whatever God says to you — do it!

L.C.J. Moules.

FOREWORD

When the Belgian Government gave Independence to Congo in 1960 it created a political vacuum almost overnight. Till that time no Congolese had reached a rank above sergeant in the Army, or a secretary in Civil affairs. Thus on the first day of Independence sergeants became generals and secretaries were promoted to managers. Political personalities were also sucked into this vortex and flung against each other for power and position.

Mr. Patrice Lumumba formed the National Congolese Movement. He won widespread support and devotion in N.E. Congo, the area in which the Worldwide Evangelization Crusade operates (see map). After his assassination his followers believed that he would return again, either personally or by a 'sent-one'. Leader Christophe Gbenye announced himself as the fulfilment of the Lumumba 'return' and attacked Kwilu province early in1964. The summer of the same year his troops gained Usumburu, near the Burundi Border, and then occupied Albertville on Lake Tanganyika. The news of July 20th, 1964 announced his advance upon Kindu, the rail and port terminus on the Lualaba (Upper Congo) River. On entering Stanleyville the sympathisers of the Lumumba party took control at once of the N.E. Congo until official Rebel forces arrived to assume administrative control.

The occupation of Yumbi, Lowa, Lubutu and Stanleyville was completed by August 6th, 1964. Other missionary stations were reached in rapid succession. All was unexpected and the advance rapid because of the sympathetic population. The Africa Inland Mission had an inter-station radio network. They contacted all their stations on August 21st, 1964 for normal reporting. All stations had nothing untoward to report except that of Dr. Becker at Oicha. He drew attention to a new attitude amongst the Congolese with very serious undercurrents of feeling amongst the local people. A radio link was ordered for the next day. It was on this network the following day that the U.S.A. Consul advised evacuation. A few of our Worldwide Evangelization Crusade stations listened-in to this radio link-up, but when the warning was received the roads were already sealed off by check-blocks and Rebel posts. When the Yumbi station heard the "Calling all missionaries" they had been in occupied territory already for three weeks.

Who and what were these Simbas, "lions", as they called themselves? And who were the Jeunesse? Under a few well-trained and indoctrinated leaders they were a mighty force of Congolese, who in the break-up of law and order and effective security had reverted to age-old customs of witchcraft and cannibalism. These revived practices were the "sacraments" of a new "fellowship". The blood of victims was smeared upon the body and congealed with the dust of travel and dancing. To wash would destroy its power to nullify the bullets and weapons of the enemy. To touch Europeans or women was an act to destroy the magic powers of the blood. When receiving from whites the things demanded of them, they had to be placed on the ground so that they could be taken without fear of contact. If the magic failed and they received a mortal wound, it was obvious they had failed to keep the vows. There was no other answer for these Rebels.

The tragedy of tragedies was the baptism into cruelty of the young Congolese. About nine years of age and over, these Jeunesse carried tommy-guns and automatic weapons and showed bestiality in cold-blooded murder hard for us to imagine. Maybe time will show that the greater share of mass killing has been at the hands of these youngsters.

Let this be sufficient, sufficient not only to give a background to the following testimonies, but to make us pause, before turning the page, to pray for young Congo. Can this year of blood ever be erased from Congo's coming manhood? It maybe erased although the scar must remain. It can only be cleansed from Congo's heart by the One who died for Congo. It is the Lord Jesus Christ, and only He who is the answer to this challenge. We call upon the Church of Jesus Christ in Congo to uplift Him in might, power and love! Your Martyrs point to Him! Your Missionaries spoke of Him! Congo receive Him!

LCJM

CHAPTER I  
Promoted to Higher Service — Miss Muriel Harman

"This means tremendous joy to you, I know, even though at present you are temporarily harassed by all kinds of trials and temptations. This is no accident — it happens to prove your faith, which is infinitely more valuable than gold," 1 Peter 1:6. (Phillips translation).

Muriel gave us the title of this book. Today she is one of the many "witnesses to faith around us like a cloud!" Hebrews 12:1. (N.E.B.)

She suffered from the moment of her arrest. While crossing the Lualaba in a canoe with Murray Taylor her captors sought to force her to smoke hemp. She stubbornly refused. This precipitated a great deal of punishment. The Word of God came to her early in those days of suffering and struggle, and it was illuminated in the translation above. "This is no accident I" With this hope she encouraged her fellow-missionaries who were beaten, tied and flung upon an active ant-hill. Almost naked she walked with her colleagues in similar affliction, and with the blood trickling from a head-wound caused by rubber truncheons she encouraged herself — "This is no accident."

On Monday, November 23rd, 1964, the train carrying the arrested missionaries pulled into Stanleyville. Muriel was covered in blood and looked, as her companion said, "Such an old, old, woman." They were all imprisoned on the railwayside of Stanleyville. At 6.00a.m. on November 24th the day of horror began. Out of the skies floated hundreds of multi-coloured parachutes. From 385 of them dropped a living mercy mission of Belgian paratroopers. Later, white mercenaries with the Congolese National Army launched a big attack on the town. All day the struggle for Stanleyville ebbed and flowed.

During Wednesday morning a mortar shell exploded outside the missionary prison killing ten Rebels. Immediately the guard saw his fellows killed, he took a machete and attacked, severely wounding Mrs. Taylor and her two little girls. The family was taken down to the low-level dungeon-like room where Muriel and nuns attended to the wounds with handkerchiefs. They could do very little, for surgical stitching of the terrible gaping wounds was needed.

Desperate for reprisal the Rebels ordered all out of the cellar up to another room. The wounded could not move. Muriel tried to remain to tend them but was ordered above. They filed into a long room. Men were backed to the wall on one side, and women against the other. Automatic weapons were loaded and the Rebels marched down each line ripping the hail of lead into each prisoner. Muriel was with the Lord immediately. "This is no accident." Such was the anchorage Muriel found in God in martyrdom.

CHAPTER 2

Promoted to Higher Service — Mr. Cyril Taylor

Cyril and Joy Taylor came from Christchurch in the South Island of New Zealand. They were located at Lowa mission station, which was on the west bank of the Lualaba River, the upper part of the Congo River, and opposite the town and Government post on the east bank. They had with them their two boys, Murray (fourteen) and Barry (twelve) and two girls, Colleen (six) and Pauline (three).

On November 9th, 1964 the family was arrested, taken by canoes across the river, and interned. Two incidents occurred to arouse the suspicions of the Rebel guards, the first being the sinking of a river craft off Lowa, and then the arrival of two Government helicopters over the mission station. These had arrived in response to the concern of Mr. and Mrs. J. Grainger, who had been wonderfully rescued at Kindu. However the station was empty and the "choppers" had to return without them.

The Rebels were convinced that radio communications were established between the mission and Government forces. Cyril and Murray were taken very roughly back across the river to help search for the non-existent transmitter. A 35 mm. slide projector was found and excited the Rebels, who concluded it had something to do with the affair. The captives' wrists were tied brutally behind their backs. The journey back began, a journey of much suffering. Across on the other side the captives were thrown on to an active ant-hill. Only those who have encountered the Congo termite will appreciate what those hours of agony could be.

On Sunday, November 22nd, all were hustled aboard a motor launch for the journey down river to Ponthierville. This was the place of suffering. Stripped almost naked, beaten and brutally treated, the blood stained their bodies as they were forced to run and march at the Rebels' whims.

Along with Roman Catholic nuns and priests and with three other white civilians the journey continued the next day to Stanleyville where they were imprisoned in a basement room. All along the Rebels showed compassion for children, so Joy and the two little girls were left in a ground floor room under guard.

On Tuesday afternoon a mortar shell whined across from the west bank to explode with fatal results amongst the Rebels just outside the room. Joy and the children in a corner were miraculously unhurt. Blind anger possessed the guard and he took a heavy sword and attacked Joy, Colleen and Pauline. Colleen's head was gashed open four inches across her forehead, and another gash on top of her head. Pauline's head was slashed in two' long five-inch gashes. Joy suffered deep wounds on an arm and hand through avoiding direct attempts to pierce her chest and heart. Her arm was broken in two places. Two fingers were broken.

Joy staggered out of the room into the open and lay under a palm tree. Cyril heard from below the crying of Pauline. Racing to the scene he gathered up the children and helped them down to the dungeon. All that could be done was so little compared to the need. They remained in the dungeon all night, about thirty people in all without water or sanitary arrangements.

The next day the Rebels returned. At evening time all the prisoners, including Murray and Barry, were ordered to the ground floor. Joy, Colleen, Pauline and Mrs. Harrison, with a fractured leg, were left helpless below. The prisoners were put in a long room with women one side and men the other. A Rebel with a Bren gun went along each side and mowed them down. Cyril was first in line and first to enter the perfect light of the Lord's presence.

Murray and Barry fell down behind an alcove to feign death among the corpses. But the Rebels discovered them alive, and with unexpected mercy bundled them downstairs to the dungeon.

The older boy knelt by his mother. "Mummy, Dad has gone to he with Jesus." Murray then fell on the floor thanking God that He had taken his Daddy to be with Jesus. Then he ended, "Lord, forgive the man who shot him — forgive the others, for they know not what they do. In Jesus' name. Amen."

After hearing the news, Cyril's aged mother wrote to Mr. Jim Grainger:

"I can hardly realize yet that my very dear and only son, along with dear Miss Harman, has gone to be with the Lord, whom they loved so much. I know that Cyril would want to go while serving his Lord and I feel that Miss Haman would too. It seems so tragic that they should go that way, but they along with others have won their crown and are with Christ, which is far better. Cyril and Joy loved the Congolese people so much. Christ's glory shall shine through it all for their work has not been in vain. It is the crushed rose that produces the most perfume.

"Then the reading in: Springs in the Valley:

'If you suffer without succeeding it is because someone else may succeed. If you succeed without suffering it is because someone has suffered.'

"These lines have such a threefold meaning for both our dear Cyril and Joy and the Congolese Church and the Rebels."

### CHAPTER 3

### Promoted to Higher Service — Mr. William McChesney

### DEDICATION

He left His glory-circled throne  
Midst heaven's purest light,  
To make this world His fleshly home,  
A world of sin and night.

He left it all, not seeking crown,  
Nor diadem so fair,  
But seeking men by sin cast down  
And sunken in despair.

If He be God and died for me,  
To take away my sin,  
No sacrifice too great can be  
For me to make for Him.

Bill McChesney, Congo.

Bill came from Phoenix, Arizona, and of his twenty-eight years of life had seen four years' service in the Congo. His Bible and missionary preparation had been at the Great Commission Bible School, Anderson, Indiana, U.S.A.

He went to the Belgian Congo just prior to its Independence during 1960. On the field he was stationed at Ibambi, the headquarters of the area. His responsibilities included the maintenance and repair of vehicles engaged in the mission activities. He was loved by all for his humour and humility and deep devotion to the Lord.

Being an American citizen he was the target of antagonism and hatred by the Rebel forces taking over the area. This was intensified at the recapture of Stanleyville by Belgian paratroopers using American aircraft. Early in November he was placed under a three-guard arrest on the Ibambi station, and about ten days prior to his death was taken to Wamba.

From time to time he was severely beaten and became a sick man. At Wamba he was permitted to stay at the station during the day, but was under arrest at night.

On November 25th with Jim Rodger, he was again arrested at the station. One missionary said, "He looked like a young schoolboy being marched off by the five or more Simba guards." With Belgians and Jim Rodger he was lined up for interrogation, and his nationality affirmed. (There appears to be a divergence in the reports of how Bill actually died. No W.E.C. missionary witnessed his death, but two reports are shared.) The Time magazine of January 8th, 1965 records, "According to survivors, the Simbas raced around screeching, "Kill, kill, kill them all!" The Belgians were shot, clubbed to death, or tied up and hurled alive into the Wamba River. But that was killing with kindness compared to the fate of American Protestant missionary William McChesney, 28. They performed a mad war dance on his prostrate body until internal bleeding from ruptured organs ended his agony. Then the Simbas plucked out his eyes and threw his corpse into the river."

A priest onlooker reported that after being knocked to the ground a Simba jumped upon Bill's neck and it visibly broke. Let us hope that this was so, and the frenzy of the Rebels was only upon a human casket, and that his eternal spirit was already entering the presence of the Lord whom he loved and for whom he lived, and finally for Whom he died. This was the choice he made in death. Now follows his testimony of the choice he made in life:

MY CHOICE

I want my breakfast served at "Eight",  
With ham and eggs upon the plate;  
A well-broiled steak I'll eat at "One",  
And dine again when day is done.

I want an ultra-modern home,  
And in each room a telephone;  
Soft carpets, too, upon the floors,  
And pretty drapes to grace the doors.

A cozy place of lovely things,  
Like easy chairs with inner springs,  
And then I'll get a small TV  
Of course, 'I'm careful what I see.'

I want my wardrobe, too, to be  
Of neatest, finest quality,  
With latest style in suit and vest.  
Why shouldn't Christians have the best?

But then the Master I can hear;  
In no uncertain voice, so clear,  
"I bid you come and follow me,  
The lowly Man of Galilee.

Birds of the air have made their nest,  
And foxes in their holes find rest;  
But I can offer you no bed;  
No place have I to lay my head."

In shame I hung my head and cried.  
How could I spurn the Crucified?  
Could I forget the way He went,  
The sleepless nights in prayer He spent?

For forty days without a bite,  
Alone He fasted day and night;  
Despised, rejected — on He went,  
And did not stop till veil He rent.

A Man of sorrows and of grief,  
No earthly friend to bring relief  
"Smitten of God," the prophet said  
Mocked, beaten, bruised, His blood ran red.

If He be God and died for me,  
No sacrifice too great can be  
For me, a mortal man, to make;  
I'll do it all for Jesus' sake.

Yes, I will tread the path He trod,  
No other way will please my God;  
So, henceforth, this my choice shall be,  
My choice for all eternity.

Bill McChesney.

### CHAPTER 4

Promoted to Higher Service — Mr. James Rodger  
or,  
How He Won His Last Gold Medal  
Account by Jock Purves

Jesus said, "Greater love hash no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" (John 15:13).

Jim Rodger, forty-five, of Dundee, was a schoolmaster, and latterly a teacher of backward children. In his schools he was a gold medallist and an Honours M.A. in German and French of Edinburgh University. During the World War II he was an Interpreter in the R.A.F. and saw overseas service in Canada. After demobilization he heard the call to missionary service in the Congo and took a full course of training at our College in Glasgow. From there he went as a candidate to our London Headquarters before proceeding to the field. For Jim and ourselves this was not easy, for neither in Glasgow nor London did we think him practical enough for missionary service, and we advised him to go back to his school-teaching again. This he did; but at our summer Conferences Jim was there, and he took up practical training also, such as basket-making. And he applied again. After thoughtful and prayerful consideration we gave him the same decision as formerly. One day a letter came from our Congo Field Leader asking about Jim and saying that such a godly man and schoolteacher might be very useful added to the missionary ranks in the Congo and asking for a reconsideration of the decision. This we did and in due course Jim went forward to the Congo.

Through the tense and trying years covering Congo Independence Jim was at his post at the school in Lubutu. At the June 1964 Conference Jim came up from the disturbed area with particular reason for the educational policy and locations, for teachers were under review. Jim was posted to Wamba.

All news from the field ceased after July 28th. On the release of Mr. Grainger we heard that Jim had written him about mid October and it appeared all was as well, as could be expected under the changed circumstances and with no cause for worry. Now we know from our own missionaries that he and Bill McChesney died together on November 26th, 1964.

Young Bill McChesney was unwell and Jim looked after him and nursed him in their prison-camp for nearly a fortnight. Then the so-called "lions"ran amok on hearing of the Belgian paratroopers being brought by American aeroplanes to the Stanleyville area. All Americans and Belgians were to die! There was at least one American and he was weak and ill, our fine young Bill. That did not matter. All white males in Wamba were gathered together into the life or death line. "Declare your nationality" was the word given. "All Americans and Belgians are to die. All others will be spared." Someone had kindly said to Jim that he should just declare his nationality and he would be safe. But the older brother looked on the younger, the well upon the sick, the nurse upon his patient, and he said, "I must stick with Bill." He felt, says one of his fellow Crusaders, that he could comfort and help Bill. And so in the line of death the fatal question was asked, "Nationality?" The lips in, the kind face with the brown eyes never opened, and both Bill and he were condemned to a cruel death. A Belgian Roman Catholic priest about to die, to his great credit, called out, "He is a Britisher!" But it was too late. The forgiving minute had passed. There is a Friend that "sticketh closer than a brother"; but there are brothers who bear something of His likeness. Such was Jim Rodger. Bill and he were lovely and pleasant in their lives and in death they were not divided. When last seen their hands were tied behind their backs to their ankles and they were trampled on in the devilish wrath of man. We say no more. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot put it out. Dear, dedicated and handsome young Bill and sandy-haired scholar Jim. Side by side with the New Years Honours lists in the newspapers we read the short account of brave Jim. "I must stick with Bill," he said. He had won his last gold medal.

### CHAPTER 5

YUMBI — The Place of National Martyrs  
Mr. and Mrs. James Grainger.

Extracts from tape recordings of the story told by Jim and Ida Grainger on arrival at the London Headquarters of the Worldwide Evangelization Crusade.

"Be not afraid of their faces." (Jeremiah 1:8).  
"They shall fight against thee, but they shall not prevail against thee." (Jeremiah 15:20).  
"God hath not given us the spirit of fear." (2 Timothy 1:7).

Ida covers the early days:— News of clashes in North Katanga reached us about the end of July. Some coming up told of road blocks, the necessity of passes and witchcraft, but it was all so remote — too far away to give concern. Then a disturbance occurred in Stanleyville through some young Rebels raiding the armoury and stealing guns. Government troops immediately set up road posts to stop the arms getting out and travel was difficult.

Nevertheless we went north to the Worldwide Evangelization Crusade Field Conference at Ibambi. We had a very.blessed time. On our return we stayed at Wamba overnight and heard on Elaine's (Aitken) radio of the capture of Kindu by the Rebels. This was still 180 miles away south of us. During our continued journey we met missionaries of another society going for a holiday in Uganda. It seemed as if all was normal and trouble remote.

On Wednesday July 22nd we returned to Yumbi. Things were astir and the National Congolese Movement spreading. The following Sunday during the church service a relative of one of the Africans arrived from Kindu. He told of National soldiers deserting and of shootings. Pastor Amisi advised catechists to take their wives back to their villages and to hide their possessions in the forest. The catechists were reluctant to take their wives away but began to hide away their belongings.

On Monday July 27th, the Taylors, Mrs. Harrison and Miss Harman arrived from Lowa. Cyril had been under pressure by various people to take them in the mission launch up to Ponthierville. He did not know the treacherous river, and the boat was far from seaworthy. He had had a terrible time taking about three days. On his return he was asked by others to take them. But the condition of the boat made them turn back. The Pastor advised the missionaries to leave the station and so be free from the commandeering attitude of the people. Therefore they came in two cars to Yumbi.

Here with us the situation deteriorated. Pastor Amisi became a marked man, and he left for his village. The next day after dark we found all the Africans had fled. We felt strange being the only ones left on the station.

On Wednesday the Lowa missionaries felt they should go back. On the road they met a big group of young Rebels which forced Cyril to stop suddenly. Muriel Harman driving the car behind could not stop in time, and crashed into the back of his vehicle. This caused Cyril's car to lurch forward into the crowd, hurting a few. It was a very nasty situation but the outcome was that they had to return to Yumbi. Muriel's car was badly damaged. Later that day Cyril and family left again with a young Rebel guard and returned safely to Lowa.

The Africans quietly returned to the station and life began to become almost normal. We continued meetings, and had a testimony period in which Elavi shared that God had given him the following verses (John 14:1,2). "Let not your heart be troubled... I go to prepare a place for you." The next Sunday he was shot.

The Rebels visited us looking for Pastor Amisi and we told them he was in his village. However a little while later Cyril arrived from Lowa with the National Congolese Movement President who wished to see what the situation in Yumbi was like. Who should also step out of the car but Pastor Amisi. They had picked him up on the road.

On Sunday both Matiasi, the male nurse, and Pastor Amisi were at the early morning church service. A truck load of Rebels arrived intent on finding and arresting the two men, but they had already fled into the forest. The Rebels left for Lowa, but made it clear that if they were not back by evening then two others would be arrested and shot instead, and one would be Jim. Pastor Amisi and Matiasi heard this and came out of the forest to the station. Before going to the town to give themselves up Amisi prayed and testified he was ready to die for Jesus. They asked Jim to drive them into the town. They then gave themselves up to the local Rebel President. To their surprise they were told they were not wanted and dismissed. Walking back up the road a local man saw them and cried out to some soldiers, "Why are you letting them go? They belong to the other party." Immediately they were re-arrested and marched back to the football field. Pastor Amisi sought to explain, but without further opportunity both men were shot. It was a black Sunday.

Back at Lowa the Mituku tribe had resisted the Rebels, but sustained terrible losses. They were killed in hundreds. Sometimes they were herded into houses which were then set on fire.

For this week God had given me that promise, "My grace is sufficient for thee." (2 Corinthians 12:9) and "I will put thee in a cleft of the rock." (Exodus 33:22). Station work resumed a normal but strained programme. We never knew what would happen. God always gave grace at the time to give the quiet answer to the searching questions.

It was on August 22nd that the American Consul advised all his people to leave. We had no opportunity to go even had we wanted to!

On August 24th men in cars came to the door. We thought, "This is the end," and in fact we were told that we were being taken to Kindu to be shot. They demanded our radio and watches. As they took them one said, "You are giving them for love, aren't you?" I did not reply — that was asking too much. "You are not answering me," one cried and got very nasty. I was then asked if I wanted Jim to go. Still I kept quiet. "Do you want him to stay and help you in the work or to go?" I looked up and said, "How can I do this work on my own?" "All right, then; we'll leave him, but you will have to pay!" They demanded Frs. 5,000, which we paid.

At this moment a further text became precious. "I will bless the Lord at all times." (Psalm 34:1), but I was very low the next morning and the Lord reminded me of the verse. I sought to carry on with dispensary work in this spirit in a very difficult atmosphere.

September was very full with dispensary work. During the third week six evangelists arrived to see us. They had heard wild rumours about us and came to see if they were true. The evangelists were a great encouragement.

In the middle of October we received a letter from Jim Rodger who told us that all the missionaries were safe as far as he knew. He had no news of Malingwia. On the last Saturday of October the Rebels came to take us away.

Jim picks up the story:- The Lord made very real to us these passages from the Word. "Be not afraid of their faces." (Jeremiah 1:8) "They shall fight against thee, but they shall not prevail against thee." (Jeremiah 15-20). Also, "God hath not given us the spirit of fear." (2 Timothy 1:7). I had to ask the Lord to make this real to me and take away any other spirit, and give His Spirit of peace.

Then at three o'clock in the morning of 31st October we heard a car. Someone knocked on the door. We got up. There were six well-armed Rebel soldiers, also one civilian. We were ordered to leave dressed as we were and to take passports, pack a suitcase and bring some food. I tried to find out where we were going and was told, Punia, about twenty five miles distance, and we could expect to be away two days. As we packed they followed us round the house, and tried to molest Ida by putting their arms around her.

We got into the car and proceeded to Yumbi to pick up two other white men. We arrived at Punia, at dawn. Here Mines officials had been brought in and all our passports were taken. Kindu, we were told, was our next stop, about 110 miles further south. This journey started at nine o'clock on Saturday night, 31st October, and we were in the back of a truck.

The convoy had not gone fifteen miles when a big storm broke. Shelter was taken in a house in a nearby village. The Rebel escort was very good to us and protected us from the other Rebels we met along the way.

Sunday morning November 1st another bunch of Rebels coming north from Kindu arrived. These Rebels boasted about the transmitter they had found on a mission station and said the missionary had been shot. Seeing Ida and me one started on us, abusing us for our politics. Then we were ordered on to the truck. We each had a box and a cushion to sit on, but he told us to get on to the floor, which we did. Later our escort told us to take the cushions again.

On Sunday night we halted at a mining camp. We were treated very roughly and greatly humiliated. The Rebels ordered us to march and drill like little children. Here again our escort intervened and protested at the treatment. The captain complained, "You can treat your white people like that, but not our white people from Yumbi." It was gracious of Roman Catholic nuns to minister to us with food at this time.

On Monday, November 2nd, our journey continued to Kindu. At all road blocks the Rebels were very wild and savage. They mounted the lorries and abused us. "The General (General Olenga Nicole) is waiting for you down at Kindu. He is waiting to give you your wages. Oh yes, you'll get your wages all right." Of course they meant we should be shot.

The convoy arrived at Kindu and we were driven to where some priests were interned. We heard machine-gun firing, and gathered from the guard's conversation that Chiefs and Government Officials were being liquidated. At Kindu they reckoned 1,500 civilians were killed and the bodies left for six days on the beach before being thrown into the Lualaba River.

After a time we were taken to a house with nineteen other whites and put under arrest. In another house nearby were thirty Europeans. In all some seventy were under arrest in Kindu. We were in the house from Monday to Thursday. Ida was the only lady among twenty men. We prayed for an opportunity to witness for the Lord.

The Rebel officer came to the house and told us that should a bomb drop on 'Kindu we would be shot at once. On Wednesday evening planes came over. We prayed that nothing should happen, and they flew off. On Thursday, November 5th at half past two in the afternoon the planes returned. We heard machine-guns firing as the Rebels defended the town. Suddenly a rocket crashed into the area. The Rebel Captain rushed up, "You are going to be shot. No questions. It's finished! All of you, except the Protestants (Ida and myself) get outside." Then the men were stripped to the waist. Rings and other possessions were taken off them. A lot of time was taken up in questioning and making a nominal roll. While this was going on a crowd came to our window and called out, "Two more in here. Bring them out!" Then for no apparent reason the men were ordered back into the house — presumably for a respite before the execution took place.

Now came our prayer's answer and the opportunity to witness. I suggested to the Director of Mines that we call everyone together for prayer. He was most willing, and did so. How sad and dejected they looked. Some sat, others knelt as I read John 14 and gave a simple message of Salvation, and explained how we could confess and seek forgiveness. They followed me in a simple prayer. Praying aloud they sought repentance. I then asked God even at this late hour to deliver us. We all said the Lord's Prayer. On opening my eyes I saw many with tears on their cheeks.

We broke up and went to our rooms. About fifteen minutes later we heard a burst of firing. Machine guns chattered. Rebels were running past the house. Fierce fighting was obviously going on somewhere. The mercenaries under Major Hoare were attacking. For an hour it continued. Then jeeps arrived outside the houses and white men got out. The Belgians rushed out and threw their arms around them. They were only just in time.

The Director of Mines approached me again to lead them in a prayer of thanksgiving. All fell upon their knees and the tears flowed freely again. Wonderful sight! Wonderful opportunities! We were free. Our evacuation to Kamina Base preceded our flight to Elisabethville.

We arrived in Elisabethville on November 9th, the day the missionaries at Lowa crossed the Lualaba in canoes. On that day their martyr trail began.

### CHAPTER 6

LOWA to STANLEYVILLE — Travel Stains of Blood  
Mrs. Mary Harrison

Wednesday morning, February 3rd I (Editor) slipped quietly through the doors of Tankerville Ward of the Mildmay Mission Hospital. Sister Pat gave me a welcome, for it was the "big day". Assisted by two Orthopaedic Doctors Ma Harri (Mrs. Harrison) was learning to walk again. God had touched a broken body and racked mind to heal in a way only as wondrous as His name. Reinforced by the Christian love and care of the Hospital's devoted Staff, the missionary warrior of Congo, over seventy years of age, was battling and winning her way again to health and mobility. Left – right! Left – right! This was the rhythm the crutches commanded on the march of Tankerville.

On December 10th the plane from Elisabethville had brought the tired, bruised servant of God to London. The ambulances covered the journey smoothly from the concrete apron by the aircraft to the screened bed of the hospital. She was safe at last in the precious security of the spiritual love of Mildmay. Bit by bit the story of the tragic weeks pieced together.

It was at Ponthierville that the beatings and sufferings were intensified. Nuns and missionaries were stripped almost naked, and made to walk and run at the Rebels' merest whim. Ma Harri told me, "The clubs and beatings were one thing, but when they took the rubber truncheons I gripped my flesh and cried to God for grace and strength. It was terrible. Dear Ma Harma (Miss Harman)was terribly bloodstained."

The train journey the next day took them on to Stanleyville. There were five stopping points. Each halt became an opportunity for the Rebels to beat and bludgeon the missionaries. It was the sustaining grace of the Lord that upheld them. Again and again Ma Harma held to the rock of promise, "This is no accident, it happens to prove your faith." (1 Peter 1:6. Phillips translation).

In the basement room the missionary lay down on the concrete floor with only pieces of cardboard for a mattress. Instructions were given them that should they need to go outside then they should take the second turning on the left in the corridor. But under the stress and mental strain the details were confused, and Ma Harri, in the darkness, took the first turning and stepped out into space. A three-foot fall crashed her upon the concrete plinth below. She lay still with an impacted fracture of the thigh and a broken wrist. Who can tell the agony with which she entered into the sufferings of her Lord as she lay again on cardboard sheets? Yet as she endured that agony the crescendo of tragedy increased.

Mortar shells — savagery — a wounded family — death! The basement dungeon became somewhat of a hospital ward with nuns as nurses. Ma Harms. ministered to her fellow-Crusader to the end.

"Upstairs — all of you!" The Rebel command rapped out. Slowly the death-file moved out and up. "You as well," looking at Ma Harri. "I cannot walk — My leg is broken." The guard's boot crashed into her face. She turned her head away and the boot kicked into the ribs, inflicting another fracture. Then she was alone with Joy, Colleen, and Pauline. Upstairs the Bren guns ushered the faithful group into His glorious presence where pain and sorrow and suffering are no more.

Wednesday night and all day Thursday they lay unvisited except for two Congolese Roman Catholic priests. These two men helped in bringing water for drinking. Murray and Barry, having escaped from the death sentence upstairs, now attended to the wounded women.

Friday dawned — November 27th, and in the growing light the white mercenaries crossed the river on a 'mercy raid'. The missionaries and priests were soon found and taken back across the river for emergency treatment. The stretchers were safely aboard the aircraft at last. A careful taxi down the runway lifted the plane on course for Kamina and on to Elisabethville.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death ... Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me." (Psalm 23:4).

### CHAPTER 7

OPIENGE — No Through Road  
Miss Winifred Davies

The road to Opienge was once a main artery of life in the district feeding the mines and carrying the valuable ore to the Stanleyville trunk road over eighty miles to the west. The road was for the mines and communication only — it did not go anywhere! Turning east off the Wamba-Stanleyville road one enters the low mountainous area of Congo. The road crosses and recrosses rivers and streams till one may count over eighty shaky bridges between Opienge and the trunk road. Now the mines are silent and overgrown. The township born in more prosperous days grows and thrives as a normal Congolese habitation.

The church is there too, devoted in a very marked way to their missionary-nurse, Winifred Davies. Following the departure of Winnie in 1960 during the disturbances of that year, the church elders wrote personally to the London Headquarters of the Society asking for her return, and assuring their protection for the one they loved in the Lord. Winnie returned to Congo and to Opienge in July 1961.

The Congo Field held its Conference at Ibambi in June 1964. At that time the shadow of the rebellion was insidiously creeping over the border northwards to Opienge. Ignorant of the impending danger she returned alone to the fellowship of the Christian group at the station.

Stanleyville fell. Of all the news that trickled in, nothing came from "the end of the road". Then the following letter was received, to become the sum total of all we know about Winnie to the present time of writing,(May, 1965).

BRUSSELS - 3rd December, 1964.

Dear Sir,  
I am Father Leon Mondry from the Catholic Mission of Opienge. I know well Miss Winnie Davies and I promised to her to give you some news if I were delivered before her. I was arrested as a Belgian on the 5th of November in Opienge. Her health was very good and she did not miss anything essential. The danger was not immediate for her. In Opienge were also the Father Strybosch at the Catholic Mission and Georges, Nicholas Polycarpou's son, who had led a trek for her. At that moment there was in Opienge only a small group of Rebels, Simbas, under the orders of a rather well-bred adjutant who had always protected us, and a Sergeant Major Simon, (Nicholas Polycarpou's former boy, well known to Miss Davies). I think sincerely that Miss Davies and the Father Strybosch do not have too much to suffer. I hope that God protects thelm. I pray every day therefore. If you receive news from Miss Davies may I hope that you would inform me of the thing. I thank you in advance.  
Yours,  
Leon Mondry.

Missionaries rescued from Bafwasende speak of Rebel Officers stating that she was in Avakubi. Mercenary forces found Avakubi empty. Was she at Wamba? Or at Watsa? Thus our hearts grabbed at hope after hope. But Wamba and Watsa have not given us Winnie Davies.

Back there, where there is "No Through Road" she may be alive. We do not know. Is she with the Lord? Far better that than to be alive and suffering shameful indignities. We do not know. All we are positively assured about, whether alive or dead, she is with the Lord. We are praying, hoping, trusting, and she needs you also to pray until ...

### CHAPTER 8

WAMBA – The Ground that Blossoms Red  
Miss Daisy Kingdon  
Miss Elaine Aitken  
Miss Pat Holdaway  
Mr. Jim Rodger

"Greater love hath no man than this,  
that a man lay down his life for his friends."  
(John 15:13).

The story is taken from a tape recording made of an interview with Miss Kingdon, and covers the period until all Worldwide Evangelization Crusade missionaries were interned in Wamba. The sequel is the story told by Jack and Jessie Scholes.

The Rebels arrived in Wamba about half past ten on Saturday morning, August 15th. This was following their capture of Stanleyville. They passed on up to the Post and started to kill immediately.

The Station was quiet. We had a visit from them and we were told not to fear but to carry on our work normally. "We are fighting politics, not against the Protestant religion." Thus the meetings continued normally except for a few Sundays when rumours dictated the situation to be unwise to have the meetings. We kept up the usual programme of services. Of course the district work could not be maintained as our transport had been taken from us. Otherwise things were quiet. We heard from Ibambi occasionally by a runner, and the situation there was much worse than with us. In fact during October we had a whole month of schooling. Both the Primary and Secondary Schools were operating.

At the end of the month there was a turn for the worse. After a storm on the afternoon of the 30th October a group of Rebels came to the station. They put revolvers in our faces. "Where is the white man?" Of course they meant Jim (Rodger). They handled him roughly and took him to the Post and put him in a hotel for the night under guard with some Belgians. However he returned the same night as the Official found nothing against him.

We had little trouble and remained quiet until late November. Bill McChesney came from Ibambi under arrest and was put in the common prison with the priests. Then the priests were sent up to the Convent and Bill was allowed to come to us. About the time of the capture of Stanleyville by the Belgians on November 24th, Jim and Bill were again arrested and taken to the Post. One night the Rebels came and tapped at the windows and on the doors. I opened the door and was, immediately slapped in the face. They rushed in and beat us up quite a bit. Then we were told to go outside and take off our shoes. I was made to lock up the house and we were marched down to the Post. One of the Rebels then noticed blood trickling down from Elaine's wounds. They were afraid for her to be seen like this, so ordered us all back to the house.

All this time the place was alive with Rebels fleeing from Stanleyville. Then we received a note from Mrs. Scholes, sent by a Rebel, that they had arrived under arrest and were with the nuns. Mr. Scholes and Brian Cripps were with the priests.

We had another very nasty experience when twice in one day they came to rob us, the second time was because of the trunks that had been left in our care by some Greeks. Apparently the trunks contained American goods, and this, they said, meant our partaking in politics. It was a very ugly situation.

Mrs. Scholes sent a note the next morning inviting us all to join them at the Convent. In the light of the recent experiences we felt it wise to do so. We asked permission from the Administrator to move to the Convent. Another note from Mrs. Scholes told us to come over to them, as permission had been granted. The guards moved our stuff over on a wheel-barrow. This move of ours was entirely of our own accord.

We were in the Convent ten days. On Christmas Day General Olenga gave orders for Mr. Scholes, Brian Cripps and the priests to be taken to Mungberi, en route for Aba for release. On the Sunday they came for us and took us to Betongwe.

I should like to say a word about Jim. His death was that of a chivalrous man. He was not an American. He had been arrested, his passport examined and then released with nothing against him. But he would not leave Bill, and when asked his nationality he remained silent. They went with only their Bibles – not their passports. It was really a case of "greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13).

(The Wamba missionaries proceeded to Betongwe as told by Mrs. Scholes under the chapter 'Ibambi'.)

### CHAPTER 9

NEBOBONGO — The Place of Harrowed and Healed Lives.

Dr. Helen Roseveare  
Miss Florence Stebbing  
Miss Elaine de Russet

"In me ye might have peace." (John 16:33).

The story is constructed from extracts from Dr. Helen Roseveare's diary, and with the kind permission of the Lutterworth Press, publishers of Doctor among Congo Rebels.

The medical centre and leprosarium of the Congo Field constructed at Nebobongo lies seven miles north of Ibambi (Headquarters Station) on the Ibambi-Paulis road. It is built on the west side on a sharp bend of the road. The ground rises from the roadside to a plateau and then falls away behind the station, the leprosarium, and colony. It has a half-mile frontage along the road, but is almost one and a half miles deep. Approaching the station from the south (Ibambi) the main drive is on the left between the new church and the doctor's house; then straight on across the station and slightly down hill to the colony. Gardens, medical buildings, school hall and homes lie either side of the road.

It is Sunday morning the 16th August. Nine days previously we heard that Stanleyville fell into Rebel hands. Radio news from London, Washington, Brazzaville, Moscow, Peking and Stanleyville all give different versions. From Paulis and Wamba people pass in flight. Soldiers in stolen cars carrying wives and families hurry to the surrounding area. Soldiers are fleeing and looting as they go – carrying guns. Shops at Ibubu and Matete are stripped bare. There are rumours of war at Paulis with killings and beatings. Later we hear it is quiet in Paulis and wild in Wamba. But here it is quiet. Life goes on as usual. But there is strain.

Yesterday I was resting when a truck arrived and a uniformed man came to my house. He gabbled at me in rapid French. I gathered that he had brought a man from Wamba with gunshot wounds in his chest. The nurses at Wamba had already cleansed and dressed the double wound. The bullet had entered and left along the clavicle.

This morning the church was packed and Bernard Basuana preached on John 16:33. "In me ye might have peace." I believe he understands how I feel and laid out his heart to help me.

Monday 17th — rumours increase. We heard that the local chiefs have been tied up and brutally beaten. Outside local people are dancing and rejoicing in their new "liberty". Everyone passing is carrying flowers. "Congo is ours" is the new cry.

Sunday 23rd. The President of the Ibambi Section of Rebels drove up in Frank Cripps' car. I was introduced and we all shook hands. Suspicion runs very high. We are told to continue our activities without fear. I am to make a list of drugs and give it to them. They will send it to Stanleyville and I shall receive them all immediately —free! "There are to be gifts from those countries who know and understand our poverty," he said. Their ignorance is pitiful.

Monday 24th. About 11 p.m. a crowd of Simbas arrived noisily banging on my door. I was nervous, but not actually afraid. They were obviously drunk. We talked in the dark through a closed door and they went away. I was relieved.

Tuesday 25th. About 7.50 p.m. everything seemed to start happening. A truck drew up at the front door. Elaine de Rusett went and talked to them by torch light through a closed window – much to their chagrin. Suddenly there was a gunshot, right by the house. I leapt out demanding who dare shoot on God's station and amongst His people. I saw people rushing around by my cook's house. I ran to them demanding what had happened. An arrogant youth, a local boy, dressed as a soldier with a smoking gun, came out of Aunzo's house where he had been searching for a girl he had shot at. I was rightly angry. Eventually they went. When we heard the story we wept. The soldier had accosted our head-girl-nurse and tried to assault her. She fled naked through Aunzo's house, out and through the gardens to creep, torn and bruised, shattered and horrorstruck into a village house for protection and clothing. Eventually all were calmed and cared for.

Friday 4th September. We have been told that after September 15th there will be no more teaching of Christianity. Praise God for these past two weeks of intensive teaching in the Bible School. Rumours still pour in. Organized resistance at Bunia; more killings at Paulin; a mercy plane refused permission to land at Stanleyville.

Tuesday 8th. Encounter with the Simbas at close quarters — God disabled them! Hallelujah! When ordered to strike us they could not move and were more afraid of our God in us than we were of them. We then gave them coffee and the Gospel! This unnerves everyone; leaves a feeling of exhaustion. But God triumphs.

Thursday 17th. Almost a week passed. Every day full. Blessed Lord's Day – church PACKED! POWER!

Last Wednesday I went to a flag-raising ceremony at Ibambi and met the "family", chatted, and worshipped together. I went in a car to look for Susan and was accosted by five youths with knives and spears wanting a lift. A quarter of an hour later a menacing gang awaited me and threatened me! They would wait on the road for me, and they knew what to do with the likes of me I They brandished their spears. I was trembling and slipped into Soli's (Mr. Scholes) house. He sent to the President for armed protection. But the Lord showed us how to talk to them first. After a quarter of an hour all was quiet.

Friday 18th. The awful cruelty of a barbarous people is terrible to watch. Oh, Saviour of Mankind look down in pity and aid us to bear these our adopted race upon our hearts in prayer until that day shall be fulfilled.

Tuesday 22nd. I meant to write yesterday, but was too tired. I had a lovely day. Dear Elaine (de Rusett) and Florence (Stebbing) sent me birthday cards early morning and greeted me after prayers inviting me to a birthday tea – for which they had killed a duck! Aren't I spoilt!

Sunday 18th October. Days have gone. Much has happened, but it seems I have either no time or no interest to write things down.

At eight o'clock on Friday evening a terrifying gang of hooligans with spears and knives rushed in using wild threats and language. They demanded the chauffeur and keys of the car. I answered quietly and asked that only their leader talked to me. He came forward – a small wiry twelve-year-old boy dressed as a Lieutenant! He had the most miraculous swagger possible. Folks won't believe that after an hour of useless haggling I was forced to give in to him. I had to show him how to start the car with gear changing. Furious and frustrated he allowed me to drive. Later a local chauffeur offered to drive. At 11 p.m. we set out for home on foot. After half a mile we were overtaken by a truck that brought us home worn out, mentally tired and over-excited.

Thursday 29th October – Sunday 1st November. Thursday night "they" came, somewhere between 1 a.m. and 2.30a.m. I leapt up, and pulled on a dressing gown, caught up a lamp and rushed to the front door, where a terrifying voice was screeching at me to open the door AT ONCE to the Armee Populaire or they would smash it in. I called the two night nurses, who came looking very frightened. We opened the door and in surged five or six armed bullies, using awful language, and demanding my husband. I explained my situation and they cursed me as a liar, saying that I had hidden him, and demanding to search the house. So numbly we started on the now-familiar round — opened everything, showed everything — but they were brutal and coarse, and stole anything they wanted – my watch, money sent out for buying plantains, Campaigner berets, gramophone and records: they searched everywhere, and then started to leave, to my intense relief. I showed them to the door, praying that they wouldn't go up to the two girls. Then the head Lieutenant, with a revolver at his belt, called me back into the house (the two nurses had been ordered out by the others, to carry their booty to the car). I just fled out through the front door, throwing the lamp to Hugh, an eighteen-year-old student nurse, and ran round the side of the house, halfway down the path to the toilet. I thought they would go, as they had completed the inspection for which I understood they had come. I could hear their coarse laughter. But no! they followed me flashing powerful torches, shouting that I had escaped and was hiding something from them. I flung myself under some bushes in the thick mud and pulled my dressing gown over my feet and face, praying they would go, my heart nearly bursting with fear and near-panic. But in ten minutes they found me, dragged me to my feet, and struck me across the face, searching around me for what I was hiding – they just did not appear to understand that I was only hiding myself from them! Their minds do not work like ours. I reeled and my glasses went. My heart was pounding with fear; my mouth was parched and dry. Another forced me again to my feet, whilst another rescued and returned my glasses! The leader cursed me terribly and struck me again over the head with a rubber truncheon-affair. I was shoved back to the verandah. (The younger nurse had fled, but Hugh stood by me throughout.) As I stood, trembling, horrified, miserable, against a pillar of the verandah, the Lieutenant stuck his revolver in my face and demanded that I should declare he had not touched me, or something to that effect. Others persuaded him not to shoot me (I almost wished that he would and finish it. My heart was with Jesus and a quiet peace was mingling with frantic fear). "Brought as a lamb to the slaughter" came into my heart, and I felt His strength taking possession of my weakness – He went to the shame of the cross without resistance. Hugh tried to stand between us, and demanded they leave me alone. They struck him down, and beat him brutally. They said they would take me to Paulin and ordered me into the house to dress. Then they hustled me out and I was bundled into the cab with three others and driven off to Ibambi. I tried to sing choruses as we went, in Swahili, to quieten my own terrified heart and that they might hear the name of Jesus and the devil in them should fear and tremble. They asked me how many British were at the Ibambi Mission, and how many Americans. As I hesitated to answer, he struck me again – and physical cowardice against their brutal pain forced me to comply with them. However they did not stop at the Mission, going straight through the town commercial centre, one and a half miles further on, where the "Lions" had their headquarters, saying that they would need more "Lions" with them to round up such a large group. I was bundled into a bare room, lined with chairs, a big table with a beer bottle and two glasses on it, and through to a bedroom and told to lie down. My heart failed. Dear God, I cried, I can bear no more. But the brute was called away. I crept to a chair in the corner, and sat down, hugging my despairing heart to myself and quoting Scripture and pleading with the Lord to give me His strength and faith. Mine were quite finished. They came and went all night, but mostly I was ignored. Then at half past four in the morning they hustled in five Roman Catholic sisters, three priests and a young man from the Ibambi cotton factory. Oh, what a surge of relief to see another white face! I dare not join them at their end, and no-one spoke. Half an hour later four local Greek men were hustled in. I plucked up courage to move across the room and they welcomed me to an empty chair – and a quiet slow "thaw" of friendship set in, in subdued phrases, quiet glances, cautious smiles. I asked a Greek man to take me across to his wife who was in their house, and he did so, with no interference, except a "cub" followed us with a spear. I was able to wash and clean up a little, and relieve my heart's tension to the dear woman there – she was separated by thousands of miles from her children and home in Cyprus. They, Mr. and Mrs. Mitsingas, served us all coffee, bread and cheese. Then at last Babonde whites arrived, then from Pawa eight sisters, three priests and Dr. Swertz, a Flemish Belgian. Conversation began to buzz: tensions eased as we became more and more friendly. The Lieutenant would enter grimly – and the very smile or word would freeze on one's lips. Then our Ibambi family arrived. I nearly wept to see them, and to feel no longer so alone.

(The sequel to this is recorded under the chapter headed, IBAMBI.)

This Poem was written by Lady Roseveare when her daughter, Dr. Helen Roseveare, was missing – believed killed.

Little white seed of Christian love  
Cast in a pagan ground  
From you shall spring a Power profound  
Winning the hearts of all around  
Your fearless zeal His vict'ry sound.

So came the Babe of Bethlehem  
Into a world as wild:  
So, in a manner meek and mild  
Dwelt amongst men the Kingly Child  
And so rejected died.

He taught that harvest can be reaped  
If seed is sown and dies:  
That love is shown in sacrifice:  
That deepest grief to God-filled skies  
Shall bring its victory.

We may not shrink from death and pain  
If we the world for Him would gain:  
We kneel and sing His praise  
Oh God who gavest Thine own Son,  
Is this the way Thy work is done?  
Always to give what costs us most,  
Always to serve nor count the cost.

To give oneself is duty weighed:  
To give one's child makes one afraid  
For all the pain they may endure:  
Though we may know the road is sure  
We may not shield them from their hour —  
We needs must trust them to Thy power.

O give them grace in time of need  
To be from every danger freed  
Secure in Thy great Love.

E.M. Roseveare.  
Christmas 1964.

### CHAPTER 10

IBAMBI — Where the Church Triumphant Sings  
Mr. and Mrs. Jack Scholes (Field Leaders)  
Miss Amy Grant  
Mr. William McChesney  
Mr. Brian Cripps (Printing Press)

"Ye shall not need to fight in this battle:" (2 Chronicles 20:17). "Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which He will show to you today." (Exodus 14:13).

This story is composed of extracts from a letter written by Jack Scholes to Norman P. Grubb (International Secretary of the Worldwide Evangelization Crusade).

11th November 1964.

My dear Norman,

For, more than three months we have not been able to receive or send any letters outside the country, for we have been under the regime of the Rebels. Not in their hands, praise the Lord, but in His hands. Now we have every reason to believe that our deliverance is near so I am writing to tell you of some of the happenings, and how our wonderful God has undertaken for us.

We heard of the Rebel activities in other parts of Congo, but there had been no trouble here, except we were aware that the Mouvement National Congolaise was at work – even though it had been forbidden by the Government. Gangs of irresponsible unemployed youths were meeting together from time to time. There had been trouble with them, but we had no idea until later how well organised they had become. Before the 1964 Conference in June there had been trouble in Stanleyville, but it had blown over. How we praise the Lord that we held our Conference when we did, as otherwise we should never have been able to meet. The first news of anything of concern was that Stanleyville had been taken by the Rebels. Then we heard that Amy (Grant) and Pat (Holdaway) had come up to Wamba from Bomili. Many folks were fleeing from Stanleyville and some Americans at Bomili were leaving. They asked Amy and Pat if they would like to go with them as far as Wamba because they had no car. Our missionaries did not want to leave and they consulted the African leaders. The outcome was that it was felt best for them to come for a time, at least, until the danger was past. This was at the beginning of August. Pat stayed at Wamba, and I asked Amy to come on to Ibambi.

Bill McChesney went to Wamba to bring Amy here. They met soldiers on the road and had a bit of trouble but got through. All was quiet at Wamba. On Sunday August 16th there was a local Conference in Gbadi's territory so we went along. We were surprised to find the roads and villages deserted, but on arriving at the place of meeting found the reason. The Chief had been arrested by the Rebels and his people had fled into the bush. Quite a number of Christians had gathered for the meetings, but they were surprised to see us, for they had heard that the road was blocked. Our presence was a real encouragement to them. They advised us to return early so as to reach Ibambi before dark as they had heard that the Rebels were coming to Ibambi. We left after the first meeting and arrived back home without incident.

We heard later that we had had a wonderful deliverance. The Rebels had passed a little time before us on that road and returned a little while after we had passed. If we had stayed later we should have run into them. The Lord was guiding us all the time.

In Ibambi it was soon evident who was in charge. A local man announced himself President of the Jeunesse and all the youths began to show their authority. They came demanding the car for a couple of trips and I had to drive them. They all had to cover themselves with leaves or they would be punished. It was evident that the whole thing had been organised beforehand.

We have been under the reign of terrorists. All the State records have been destroyed. The prisoners have all been released. It was announced that nobody has to pay taxes. There were no police. The Jeunesse were the police and they did much as they pleased. They are supposed to be ruled strictly and were told that if they stole anything they would be shot. One was shot at Wamba for taking a radio from a house. Many of them have been sent off to fight and will never return.

In those days we still had our car on the. road and they kept asking for it for various trips. After one trip we found scratched on one side "Burn down Ibambi" and on the other side "Moscow". It is easy to see where all this evil has come from. Up to that time we had only been troubled by the Jeunesse but soon we began to have visits from the Rebel soldiers.

We never knew when they would come in. They said that they did not steal and thieves would be shot, but they were always taking things. They were armed with guns and some youths had spears. They demanded the car and a chauffeur to drive it for them. One could not argue with such people so our chauffeur, Elisa, had to go with them. They were here quite a time and had some youths whipped in front of our house. We thought at first that they were going to shoot them. We began to learn more what it means to "Resist not evil" and "The servant of the Lord must not strive". Our weapons were by prayer, and much prayer was offered that the Lord would watch over Elisa and bring him back to us. Since then we have been meeting for special times of prayer daily in the Bible School. We have seen many answers to prayer.

We have had three visits since by the Rebels who searched our houses for radio transmitters. They opened our boxes and looked in almost everything. On the first visit they took our tape recorders, and told us plainly that if they came again and found that we had hidden anything we should be shot. Nothing was taken on the second occasion but on the third visit our cameras were taken. We were told that they would all be returned when the war was over – we wondered! Our identity cards have been stamped to say that we are now in the Republique Populaire du Congo.

A couple of weeks ago a message came from Nebobongo early in the morning to say that Helen (Roseveare) had been arrested in the night, and that all the whites were to be arrested. This was only too true, for a few minutes later a car drove up and we were all arrested and taken up to one of the Greeks' houses which had been taken over by the Simbas. We were not allowed to take anything but our passports. We found Helen there and all the local priests and nuns and the Greek merchants. We were kept all together in the house for a couple of hours until other nuns were brought. Our passports were collect-ed and then one of the Simbas gave a long harangue about how bad white people were, especially the Roman Catholic priests. Orders had come from Stanleyville that all the whites had to be arrested and we were going to be taken to Paulis. Then we were herded into a truck. The Greek merchants were left as I think they had paid quite a lot of money to the Simbas. One of the Greeks told us that he was continually paying and had paid thousands of francs. We were left in the truck outside for nearly three hours before starting off to Paulis. We were six, Helen (Roseveare), Brian (Cripps), Bill (McChesney), Amy (Grant), my wife and myself. Elaine (de Rusett) and Florence (Stebbing) had been brought from Nebobongo, but were left in another Greek's house all day and not taken to Paulis. There were about eighteen priests and nuns with us and one Belgian. We had a very rough ride and arrived at Paulis just before two in the afternoon after several stops along the road.

At Paulis we were treated with more respect. We stood in the shade until the Commander arrived a few minutes later. The Simba who was in charge reported our arrival and the Commander wanted to know why we had been sent there! All who had been taken to Paulis before had been shot. It was all a mistake on the part of the Simbas at Ibambi. We were told to return as there was no case against us, and we were only in Paulis about ten minutes. At various places where we stopped on the return journey it was thrilling to see the obvious joy of the people. Pagans and Christians alike were delighted to know that we had been released. We arrived back at Ibambi about 5 p.m. and what a wonderful welcome we received. The folks went wild with joy and sang and praised the Lord. They had been very very upset when we were taken and had been praying much for us that day. We were none the worse for our trip except for bruises from being bumped about in the truck, and the loss of our watches which had been taken from us. Florence and Elaine were released and came to stay with us here at Ibambi. They with Helen have remained here since.

November 28th. Since writing the above much has happened and we have had the privilege of suffering more for the Lord Jesus. It is difficult to remember all the details. Two weeks ago Bill was arrested (because he was American) and taken to Wamba together with all the Roman Catholic priests. We heard later that he had been allowed to go and stay at the Mission as he had been sick on the journey. We praised God for this. Much prayer was offered for him and the Africans were very concerned. Now very sad news is to hand. He has been taken and beaten and put into prison. Jim Rodger has also been taken with him. We do not know yet if Bill is still alive. The one who brought the news did not give much hope. The Lord's will be done. The ladies at Wamba had been beaten but were left there. Daisy {Kingdom) managed to get a note through to tell us, but made light of their sufferings. They were still trusting the Lord.

On Tuesday 24th we heard the news of the capture of Stanleyville by the Belgian paratroops. Many rumours were going round here and everyone was full of fear. The African leaders advised that the Bible School students scatter to bush Churches in the surrounding district and work there until things quieten down – so they left us on Wednesday. On Tuesday night numbers of cars passed and we heard of fighting at Paulis. It seemed as if the Simbas were running away; (it appeared that everybody must go into the forest). We consulted the African leaders, and they felt it best that we should go off into the forest for when the Simbas know that they are defeated they might run amok and shoot anybody, as had happened at Stanleyville. About eleven o'clock on Thursday morning we were hidden away, having been led by a faithful African woman. It was beautiful away in the forest and so peaceful. We had had about three hours' quietness and thought that we were away from danger, when suddenly there was a cry of "Simba, Simba". A crowd of Jeunesse had been hunting for us and we were captured. They had been to the Station and broken into the houses, but not finding us, searched us out. We had to go back with them to the Station and there they made us take off our shoes and walk barefoot on the road up to the place where the Simbas have their headquarters. We saw nobody on the Station. All had fled. They made us run – pushing us along the road. It was just torture to run on the gravel road. If we did not go quickly enough they beat our backs. It was almost too much for Jessie and she fell fainting to the ground. I stopped to help her. Then they let us put on our shoes. Although we had to take them off again we managed to arrive at the Simbas' headquarters.

Here all sorts of accusations were made and a lot of evil was spoken against us. I would rather try and forget it all. It was so awful. May the Lord blot it all out of our memories. They threatened many times to kill us. They began to ask questions and for some reason which we could not understand, Brian and I were taken out and our shoes ripped off. We were rushed barefoot over a stony path and shut up in a small house. We were made to lie flat on the ground and left there. The only advantage was that we were alone and able to pray. The most wonderful thing was the realisation of the presence of the Lord Jesus. We told Him that He was worth dying for, He has done so much for us. We were most concerned about the ladies, for they had threatened to abuse them, but the Lord answered prayer. While we were locked in this house, which was until dark, the ladies were made to march out again barefoot, but the Lord sent His angel to help. He was an old schoolboy who knew us, and while belonging to the enemy it was easy to see that his sympathies were with us. He went with the ladies, and carried Jessie quite a long way. Just about dark he came to Brian and me and let us out. He spoke most kindly and was truly like the angel who took Peter out of prison.

We were then taken to another house where Greek merchants were confined. We stayed a while and then were taken before the Simbas where more evil things were said of us. This went on until midnight. Largely through the help of the "Angel" we were put in the house where the Greeks had been (they had now been sent back to their own place). We were left for the rest of the night and beds were provided. We were not able to sleep, but were alone, which was a great relief. The "Angel" told us not to fear for we should be released next morning. So it proved and yesterday morning early we were brought back here in a truck.

December 19th: That was three weeks ago. On the Saturday morning November 28th we were all arrested again and taken to Wamba – where we are now. It was an awful journey on a truck and it took us until evening. Near Wamba they kept stopping at various barriers where gangs of Jeunesse and Simbas thirsted for our blood. We were taken to the Commandant who examined our papers and sent us to the Roman Catholic Mission. The ladies went to the Sisters' quarters and Brian and I to the priests'. We were warmly welcomed and given food and a room to ourselves. We have been here ever since. We are daily expecting deliverance which we know will come in God's perfect time. The priests told us of the awful time they had experienced. We also heard that our dear Bill and Jim had received the martyr's crown. They had been at the Station until the 24th (the day Stanleyville was liberated). How they must have suffered. We can only praise God that it is now over and they are rejoicing in Glory with the saints. Our hearts go out to their loved ones. May God be their comfort and stay. We pray much for them.

Our first week here was quiet but on December 8th at about nine o'clock at night we were all taken down to the prison. They took our money and also watches from any who still possessed them. Several gangs came to question us. Our shoes were taken and we were left to sleep that night as best we could on the cold cement floor of the filthy prison. The peace in our hearts was wonderful. The Lord Jesus was with us. We were released the next after-noon but on the 10th were again marched down to the prison and as we entered we were beaten up by a crowd of Simbas. Brian received a bad head wound. Others also were hurt. They were sent to the hospital for treatment. After an hour we were released but fifteen of the priests and about twenty five Sisters were kept in prison for another three days. We praise God that our ladies were not touched. Although they were taken down to the prison with the Sisters they were sent back immediately. For the last week things have been quieter. Each morning Brian and I have been able to have a time of fellowship and prayer with the ladies for half an hour. Three days ago Daisy (Kingdon), Elaine (Aitken) and Pat (Holdaway) were brought here from the Mission. They had been very badly treated and suffered much. We praise God that we are now all at the Roman Catholic Mission and under protection. The priests and Sisters have been most kind. We have been able to help and also witness for the Lord. He is wonderful. How can we praise Him enough? Daily we expect deliverance.

January 1st, 1965. Can you guess where we are now? At Brazzaville in the hotel and shall be flying tonight to Amsterdam and arrive in London tomorrow about mid-day. The Lord has performed a wonderful miracle, for only a couple of days ago we were delivered from the hands of the Simbas. Praise His Name! We are very tired.

January 2nd. Just arrived at Headquarters. Praise God. Want to get this off so will write again within a few days. We are very tired.

January 13th. Things began to move on Christmas Day. Just after our midday meal word came that we were all to be taken to Aba and released through the Sudan. This was upon the orders of the "General" (Olenga, I suppose). The day before he had sent for some priests and nuns and they had gone off to Mungberi. Later on Christmas Day afternoon Jessie came along with a Simba to guard her so that we could rearrange the few things we had as we were unable to take much. She said, "Wait for us if you get to Aba first." We had no real assurance that God was going to take us that way: A pick-up truck came and took some of the nuns and later another one came to take us. We asked about the ladies and were told that all would be brought along later. We did not like leaving them but could not give orders to our captors! We had a rough journey to Mungberi and did not arrive until about midnight, and were welcomed by the few priests and nuns who had gone before. About twenty six of us were kept all together in a small house which was filthy. For a few days we had very little to eat, but on the second day food and equipment was brought from a Roman Catholic Mission not far away. We still had no news of the rest of the folks at Wamba but were continually told that they would all be brought to Mungberi and then all taken to Aba.

On Monday December 28th about 5.30 p.m, a truck arrived full of priests and nuns from Wamba, but our ladies were not with them. We were told that they had been taken to Betongwe the day before and had had an awful night, but would be coming along later. You can guess how Brian and I felt. We just wept before the Lord, wondering if we had been wrong not to insist that we stayed at Wamba, but if we had done so what could we have done to help? We found blessed relief in prayer, but I did not sleep at all that night.

On Tuesday the "General " came from Aba but he did not come to see us, only we were told again that when the others arrived from Wamba we should all be taken to Aba. We had been confined to the house all day for some unknown reason. The others who had come from Wamba the day before were allowed to come across for meals only. In the afternoon we saw three truck loads of Simbas leave for Paulin. They said that they were going to retake the town!

When Wednesday morning December 30th dawned one felt desperate, yet through all this we had that deep settled peace, knowing that God had matters in hand. His promises were so real and He kept bringing them to our remembrance. "Ye shall not need to fight in this battle." (2 Chronicles 20:17). "Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord which He will show to you today." (Exodus 14:13). "Able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think." (Ephesians 3:20). How precious is His Word. I was reading that morning Isaiah 30:19 "He will be very gracious unto thee at the voice of thy cry; when He shall hear it, He will answer thee." This was a real word to my soul and was fulfilled within a few minutes.

A few minutes later firing was heard. We did not think much about this as the Simbas were always playing about with their guns, but we were all ordered into the house and told to lie down on the ground. Before we did so we had the welcome sight of seeing the Simbas take to their heels and flee. The firing increased and we realised that help was near. Brian and I were under a table when suddenly during a lull in the firing we heard English voices outside. Brian said, "They are here," and almost before we could get to our feet the door burst open and in came the mercenaries. I tell you we just hugged those fellows. What a relief it was to know that at last we were free. They told us to get our things together and we piled into three trucks which they had brought. We did not need to leave at once as the resistance of the Simbas was soon ended and we saw no more of them there. One of the priests had been wounded so the mercenaries radioed for a helicopter to come from Paulis. A while afterwards a reconnaissance plane came over and gave the message that the helicopter would be with us in about half an hour. As soon as I could I asked one of the mercenaries about Betongwe. He said, "We did not know that there were any people there, and did not expect to find so many of you here." When I told him that my wife and the ladies were there he said, "We will go." We arrived at Betongwe about two o'clock in the afternoon. The mercenaries had five armoured jeeps and the trucks which transported us. Four of them went ahead and one followed. They were firing on and off all the way in case of ambushment, but we saw no one. They entered Betongwe peppering everywhere with machine gun bullets. A few Simbas were killed and the rest took to their heels. We arrived only just in time. The ladies had had an awful time. What a wonderful deliverance! Brian and I were not allowed to get down from the truck but we stood on the back and what a joy it was to see that all the ladies were safe, even though some of them had been badly knocked about.

From Betongwe to Paulis we went full speed in case of any ambushments. Being in the dry season we were just covered with dust, and arrived at Paulis looking like Red Indians! We were taken to the Roman Catholic Mission, but the mercenaries would not leave us there, but took us to entertain us at their headquarters – the brewery! They were so thrilled to rescue some Britishers. They treated us royally, and we had a lovely time with them. It was Commando 54 which rescued us, only twenty five men but real soldiers. Lieutenant Wepener who was in charge was most courteous. Many of them were from Southern Rhodesia, but some were from Britain – Kent, Devonshire, Brighton, and one from our own town of Blackpool. Unfortunately we were unable to contact him afterwards. These men could not have done more for us and would have been delighted if we could have stayed longer. On Christmas Day they had been fighting all day as 1,000 Simbas came seeking to retake the town, but they were beaten off. We heard a tape recording of the battle. We each gave a word of appreciation on the tape and told how we had been rescued. When this was played back Lieutenant Wepener said, "That is worth its weight in gold to us," so much evil had been said about them. We can never thank God enough for these splendid men. Under God we owe our lives to them. Their courage, bravery and courtesy is beyond description. They have wept over the evil reports which have been circulated about them in Britain. One day we hope they will be vindicated. They have been instrumental in saving hundreds of Europeans from being cruelly murdered. While we were with them they were planning to go to Watsa. They could not rest while there were still Europeans to be saved. They were ready for any hardships, dangers or death that they might rescue those taken captive by the Rebels. We cannot speak too highly of them. We had one or two good contacts with the mercenaries and are going to write to them. One of them said, "I have never seen such a happy lot of people as you are." We were able to tell him that it was because of the Lord Jesus in our hearts.

Jessie Scholes fills in the Betongwe story

My husband has written about his journey to Mungberi. He thought, as we did, that we would be following quickly but when Boxing Day passed and there was no news we really did wonder what had happened. On Sunday night, just after we had had prayer together before retiring, there was a knock on the door and we were ordered to pack quickly and be ready for a journey to Mungberi. We were soon in the transport along with five nuns, thirteen of us altogether with our cases. It was open. and we were packed like sardines. It was a fine night. We had to pass through barriers where there were unfriendly rebels. One hit Elaine (de Rusett) on the arm with a stick. We had a Commander on board who was there to protect us, otherwise we could never have got through. About one o'clock in the morning we reached Betongwe and to our horror we were told to get out of the truck as we would be staying there for the night. We were only forty kilometres from Mungberi which we naturally thought was our destination. Just before reaching Betongwe the Commander left us so we were then at the mercy of the rest. We were shown into a brick house and told to sleep on the cement floor. There was no sleep for any of us that night. We felt we had been led into a trap and so it proved to be. I was told later that I was to be a target of evil intentions but God protected me. It was an awful night. The following night a sympath-etic guard called Samwele was bribed by the Belgian ladies (who had joined us by this time) to protect us, and he did. From the beginning of our tribulation in August right to the end God raised up friends when we were in tight corners. It was really wonderful. One reason was that we were widely known in our district, and Daisy (Kingdon) was known in the Wamba district. This man Samwele knew her well. Some respected us for our long term of service. We had been serving the Lord in Congo before most of them were born.

We were nineteen in that house, thirteen women and six children, so we were a crowd. We quite expected to move on to Mungberi on Monday but we never saw Mungberi. Tuesday was a very tense day. We had heard a plane in the distance so were closely watched and a number of evil-looking men came peering at us through the windows. We were continually hearing insulting remarks and threats to kill us. We knew how to keep quiet!

There was little sleep for us on Tuesday night. Our cry was, "Lord, how long?" We were told that the transport which was to move us on to Mungberi had broken down thirty kilometres away, but it would eventually come. It was an invented tale. We knew we were in a trap from which only God could set us free. Before leaving Wamba He had spoken to me through Psalm 66:10-20 and particularly "Thou broughtest us into the net; thou laidest affliction upon our loins ... Thou broughtest us out into a wealthy place." Yes, God allowed it all, even though much of it was difficult to understand. Early on Wednesday morning we heard another plane, then an explosion as though a bomb had been dropped somewhere. We were ordered into the bedroom and were asked if we had a "Fond" as they called a transmitter. They said our cases would be searched. Florence (Stebbing) knew that she had her hearing aid, so she immediately produced it and explained its use. They said she was lying and that she had used it to call the planes. Only Samwele seemed to understand a little but the others would not listen to him. For the next few hours poor Florence was the victim of brain washing. At one point I heard her weeping as she said, "Kill me – but don't kill them." Our cases were searched and everything to which they took a fancy was confiscated. They had previously taken possession of all our watches. After being searched one by one, we had to sit down and remain quiet, but Simbas came through the back door asking questions.to take us off our guard. Poor Daisy spoke twice and down came a gun on her head and on her hands drawing blood. We were subjected to vile statements in Bangala which I was glad most of our party did not understand. Florence was asked how many helmets we had between us. She did not hear correctly so answered five. One of the Simbas made her go into the room where we had left them and when he saw seven, he said she had lied. He beat her across the face with hard blows. These turned black and blue, but praise the Lord there was no other damage done.

Then firing was heard in the distance. We were ordered into the bedroom at the run, some were beaten but I was missed. Women and children crowded onto the bed. I sat on the floor. By this.time we were all getting to the end of ourselves. Florence was told she would be shot at 3 p.m. and the rest of us later. I had conflicting thoughts, "Was God displeased with us? Was there sin in the camp? If so, Lord, please forgive us and cleanse us in the precious blood. Thou hast promised to deliver; what is hindering? Please do as Thou hast said." A still small voice whispered, "Fear not; be glad and rejoice, deliverance is on its way." Within a few minutes.we heard the firing of guns. This was different from anything which we had heard before. We kept our heads well below the range of flying bullets, and then suddenly the doors were flung open and the mercenaries were there to release us! I cannot speak for others, but I know I flung my arms around the first I saw and kissed him. God had sent His angels to deliver us, a bit different from Peter's angel but I am sure Peter was no more grateful than we were. We were like them that dream, and still are. It seemed impossible that at last we were free. How we had prayed and looked forward to that day. However, there was.no time to be lost. The mercenaries reminded us that we were still in danger. They told us to leave our cases .as they had not expected to find so many Europeans .alive so there was not sufficient transport for us and our baggage. They were very apologetic, but we understood. I managed to grab my old Bible, Kiswahili Bible, a few notes, a dress and coat. By this time we no longer cared about "things". We were out of that house at once, and who should I see but Jack and Brian hanging out of the back of a truck! Another minute and we were reunited; tears of joy flowed freely. I was offered a seat in the cab but I preferred being crushed in the truck along with Jack. It was just wonderful.

### CHAPTER 11

NALA — Hidden in the Forest  
Mr. and Mrs. David Davies

"Be still – and wait"  
extract from reading in _Still Waters_.

(This story is taken from tape recordings David and Ann Davies made on arrival at the London Headquarters of the Worldwide Evangelization Crusade.)

We returned to Congo in time for the 1964 Conference where we were given the desire of our hearts, a mobile literature unit, and for this we were based at Nala. Nala is some miles from the coffee plantation and about ten miles from Paulis.

One Thursday soon after arrival we went into Paulis and found that a telegram had been sent by the Rebels reporting their expected date of arrival. This was a practice of theirs, and they arrived on the date stated! The situation became very tense.

Between Paulis and Poko about twenty road blocks were established. But we found the Scripture portions and Scripture Gift Mission booklets very useful at these road blocks and they helped us through ugly situations. We were due to speak at the Nagwada Conference and although the area was difficult we felt we ought to go. The Christians were thrilled to see us. They had heard so many rumours, and were praising God for our visit. We only stayed for one meeting. It was essential to get back to Nala while it was light. On arrival at the Station we drove the car to the garage and locked it up. It remained there, untouched and unused, until we were rescued!

The Rebels arrived at Paulin on the day they had stated in the telegram – Wednesday. Immediately mass killings began. Many who had listened to the Gospel a few days previously were killed. The Simbas continually visited the coffee plantation, but never came the short distance on to us.

One day a car drove in to the Station but instead of turning to our house drove right on through to the workmen's quarters. Why had they come? Then we heard the church bell ringing and cries of, "They want us all in the church." We were going over when we met Pastor Boimi on his way there. We stopped and told him to call us if we were wanted. We returned and gave ourselves to prayer and pleading with God for His deliverance. Then we heard firing of weapons! – how many had been killed? Then we heard singing! What was going on in the church? About an hour later the car left the Station, without even calling upon us for a bonjour. The Christians came over to us laughing. It was explained that the Simbas had come to tell them that they were there to protect them, and this was how they would do it, and they demonstrated by firing in the air. These were the shots we heard! The Simbas then wanted to pray and worship so they sang hymns and conducted a service.

It was on a Thursday that two Rebels rode in on cycles. One was dressed in soldier's clothes, and the other had a bow and arrows. "Come! Come!" they shouted. It appeared they were looking for a schoolboy. Looking at us the soldier said, "You are of the other party! Where are your guns?" Ann showed him her Bible and replied, "This is the only 'gun' I possess." They went out to look for the schoolboy.

It was a period of strain. If some did not give the Rebels a bouquet when they came, they were shot. If the right salute was not given, it was death. These two Simbas then said, "We shoot all those without road passes." We asked, "Where do you get road passes, as we do not possess them?" "In Paulis." Here was a predicament. We posed the question, "How do we get to Paulis without a road pass? We shall be shot on the way." Obligingly he offered, "Don't worry, Madame, wait here." We waited till we were rescued and he never returned.

From that day we never saw another Rebel. We heard they were calling all whites into Paulis; they were commandeering all cars, yet they never came for us. Were they deceived by the over-grown road to the Station and absence of tyre marks in the dust?

At this time the Lord was very near and precious. Especially precious was a reading in Still Waters which ran, "Be still – and wait." Then came the texts on the calendars, "Prayer changes things;" "Prayer cannot fail."

It was a dangerous waiting period. The death sentence was imposed at the slightest provocation. The possession of radios, tape-recorders, petrol, cars – any could have been a cause of trouble. Again any gathering could only have a political intent and was banned. But every Monday night we gathered in the church for fellowship without let or hindrance. God was just shutting us in with Himself.

One Saturday morning Simbas came to get chickens and, although they came to within twenty yards of us, we never saw them. On November 24th Stanleyville was re-taken by the Belgian paratroops. We always feared what would happen if Stanleyville fell first. We hoped it would be Paulis first, and Stanleyville afterwards. Now it had happened as we feared. What would happen in Paulis?

On Monday November 23rd God gave us the following promises:

"And pursued after Israel no more" (2 Samuel 2:28).  
"Lay aside every weight" (Hebrews 12:1).  
"My God shall supply all your need" (Philippians 4:19).

We could not yet see the connection!

David Davies also gives the background:

When the Rebels arrived in Paulis they immediately raided the Government offices and tore up the files, raided the banks and took the money. The streets were littered with forms, files and letters.

A senior sympathiser with the Rebels was a man called Zalukas, and he took good care not to permit Government officials to escape. Families tried to escape by hiding in Europeans' houses, and this meant certain death to all.

The Simbas came up the Wamba road from Stanleyville following its capture by the Rebels. They rushed into Wamba in all the cars they could obtain, shouting hysterically, and fired in the air toy cap-pistols and children's air-guns. Brandishing sticks and knives they attacked the town. The Government forces fled. Wamba became a Rebel strongpoint. The atrocities did not touch Protestants to begin with, but were immediately applied to Roman Catholics. During Colonial days the Roman Catholics had always maintained they were the "State", and this unwise testimony now yielded a terrible harvest. The Rebels said to us, "We are leaving you for the time being. What we have against you is the Book (the Bible)."

In Paulis the Boy Scout Movement joined with other Rebel-influenced youth to form the Jeunesse. When Paulis was attacked by the Rebels it was a "walk-over" because of the strength of this internal sympathy. Immediately people had to show their pro-Rebel support by putting a good bunch of leaves on houses, cars and themselves. If they did not comply they were shot or their wrists broken over a rifle-butt.

The Rebels then began to purge the town. Government officials were shot on the spot without question. If anyone had been employed by the State, he was shot. All the educated of the town were liquidated. If your customary dress was a white shirt or long trousers, then that was your qualification for the death sentence. If you had a sizeable bank-balance you were "erased".

There were also very strict rules against their own men, women, and children. They were shot for thieving. A child tried to take a watch from a dead person and was shot. Another child took bread from a bakery and suffered the same fate.

Mrs. De Gott, wife of Dr. De Gott, sent her servant daily to the main square of Paulis where the "courts and sentences" were held. We called it "Red Square". The servant reported the daily massacre by the flagpole and the record was over two thousand. Thousands more were killed in the district around.

I myself was not afraid of death. We were ready for death, but I feared torture. The text was true, "My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever" (Psalm 73:26).

Later, in Paulis it was death to a pattern. Groups were all armed with clubs, or knives or spears. An elder of our church returned white and sick after witnessing a chief's torture. Making him lie down on his face on the ground they flayed the flesh from his arm and ate it in his presence. Then each. group attacked first with clubs – a blow and a jump away, one following the other. The knife attack followed, then spearing, and finally the mercy shot – if the victim was not already dead. Great pits dug were soon filled with the bodies. Later they were carried in lorries thirty miles away to the river. That is enough. Let no more be said. [Simbas known to have assaulted women were shot —Editor.]

Our particular testimony must be that God can keep His children when such is His purpose. For then no power on earth can touch them.

During this time we did manage to pass letters to other Stations by messengers from church to church. In this way I was able to advise Brian Cripps about the Press, couching our letters in very humorous codes.

The final moments are described by Ann:

On November 26th the Belgian paratroopers dropped on Paulis. "Thank God they have come", I cried. When would they come out for us? Time passed anxiously. A boy rushed in, "The Rebels have gone to the coffee plantation for petrol." We held on to God in prayer and had lunch. Suddenly vehicles turned in front of the house and a shout, "Are you ready?" It was Colin Buckley, a missionary from Paulis, who had guided the mercenaries to the Station. I rushed into the bedroom for our two ready-packed bags.

On the truck we found other rescued Europeans, all lying low on the floor. We followed suit. There were just two stops on the way when machine guns were fired into suspicious movements in the forest. Then we arrived at the aircraft, and home.

If I had known the way we would have to pass in these experiences I could not have gone through. I thank God the mercenaries came. But God Himself shut us in to deliver us for His glory. Hallelujah!

### CHAPTER 12

EGBITA — The Place of Forbidden Fellowship

Miss Agnes Chansler

Miss Marjorie Cheverton

"Can a woman forget her sucking child? ... yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands" (Isaiah 49:15,16).

(This story, which is told by Marjorie Cheverton, was extracted from a tape-recorded interview at the London Headquarters of the Worldwide Evangelization Crusade.)

The first signs of trouble were on Thursday, August 6th, 1964. It took us all completely by surprise. The Rebel invasion came in like a flood. We never dreamt they would take over like this.

A broken bridge on the Egbita road stopped any visits from the Rebels until September 6th. Completely unhampered, we were able to hold a Bible Study week and a Conference at the end of August. On the Conference Sunday Agnes and I were due to speak, and I was amazed that she had "my" text for her message. "And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb ... and they loved not their lives unto the death." (Revelation 12:11). Little did we understand the importance of this emphasized text.

One Sunday I was lying on my bed reading The Chocolate Soldier as I did not want to be "chocolate" at this time. Outside we suddenly heard the shout, "Ahuru! Ahuru!" (Freedom! Freedom!) Then, "Open the door!" The Rebels entered at once and accused us of hiding an ex-schoolboy. I looked at them. Dressed in leopard skins and blood smeared on arms and legs, completely unwashed for fear of diminishing the witchcraft, they stank! They had armed themselves with clubs and axes, spears, and hooked weapons. Altogether they looked terrible – like the devil himself. Their reason for coming was an excuse, for they searched the house, cupboards, under the beds, for guns and transmitters. They did not take the radio, and we had it all through the troubles. They wanted the car, and I laid the car keys on the table. "Who drives the car?" came the question. "I do," was the reply. With a spear at my back and assured, "I won't kill you," I was taken to the garage where the four-month-old car stood parked.

The church men had meanwhile been bound on the verandah for questioning. A search was on for a chief and his clerk. They honestly could say they did not know where they were. Suddenly as the Rebels left they cut loose the men. Without a pause the elder called the rest for a time of prayer.

We slept in our clothes those days. We did not know when they would return. From Thursday to Saturday the Simbas occupied the Station, while the search went on for the chief and his assistants. Their parting command was, "Don't move from the Station or we'll kill you."

Daily, lorries and cars swarming with screaming Jeunesse sped by the end of the road. It was frightening, in spite of assurances that we would not yet be killed. "One day, when we come to take your goods, then we will kill you:' It appeared that in the main they were after men,not women. This was a slight comfort! The Jeunesse were nasty. Although often coming supposedly to search for guns and transmitters they only took some oranges.

It must be confessed that Agnes and I were fearful. One Monday a Simba came to tell us that we were going to be visited on Wednesday. Oh, how we prayed! The day dawned and we heard the Simbas' vehicles, but they went on to a Belgian's house further up the road and arrested him. Then they returned and went on without coming in to the Station. How we praised God for our own safety.

On another occasion an "intellectual "'came to the house armed with portfolio and files. He began his enquiries, "What is your nationality?" "British," I replied. "And yours?" "American," answered Agnes. We were always apprehensive of this situation, as Americans and Belgians were special objectives of their hate. "Oh! I was trained by the Americans," and he became most cordial. He then switched on his transistor-radio and listened to the news in English. Many were the visits and threatenings.

A new situation crystallized which was very important. Our Congolese Christians were expressly told not to communicate with us. If it was known that they had done so they would be shot in punishment. They had been so good to us in that we never lacked food. Even the garden produce was blessed of the Lord. We had huge turnips and abundant crops. If you prayed about our food problems, then your prayers were wonderfully answered. We had fears of secret police being among our Station personnel listening and reporting. After prayer and thought we decided that our continued presence here was a danger to the Christians, and that if God opened a door of deliverance we would leave.

Further visits from the Rebels took place. We had to appear immediately on the verandah. We were fearful even to wash in a normal way in case they came. The screaming Jeunesse became terrifying. We were frightened; we admit it. But even so we had a conscious sense of the Lord's presence. One Tuesday evening we had another visit. Agnes and I said to each other, "This is it. This must be the end. We cannot go on like this." We hurried out to the verandah resigned to whatever was asked of us. "Do you have a French dictionary?" we were politely asked.

The Rebels sometimes came to church on cycles with hymn book and Bible strapped on to their luggage racks. Arriving at half past eight in the morning they had two hours to wait before it began. Calling out the monitors they often sat together singing hymns to pass away the time.

At six o'clock on Thursday morning, November 26th, great planes roared overhead, heading towards Paulis. The Belgian paratroop drop was taking place. At two o'clock in the afternoon we listened to the B.B.C. news bulletin, and heard of the death of Dr. Tucker in Paulis the previous day, and of others beaten to death. Would they forget us at Egbita? The Word of God came to us, "Can a woman forget her sucking child ... yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands." No! He would not forget us. The hours passed; three o'clock, four o'clock, five o' clock. It would be dark at six o'clock. I grew apprehensive. "What was the text?" encouraged Agnes, "Yet will I not forget thee." Half an hour ticked by. Then cars – oh, the cars! They stopped for the driver to ask where the ladies were – and went on another seven kilometres to rescue others. The Africans came running in. "They are white men! White men! Not black men! White men – Americans! You are safe!"

The cars returned and turned into the Station. Agnes ran in, deceived in the fading light by their ruggedness and leafy camouflage. "Oh no, Marjorie, they are Simbas." Then the re-assuring call, "Where are the ladies? Two minutes only – hurry!" The mercenaries were wonderful men. They hauled us up into the truck. Preceded and followed by armed jeeps, we drove to Paulis. Not a shot was fired. We did not know that when the first planes went over the Rebels all around fled into the jungle, and so on the way every precaution was taken. We were saved, as it were, out of the mouths of the lions.

That night our safe retreat was ihe brewery in Paulis. I cannot forget the strain and age reflected in Greek faces. Even our Congo friends were white and drawn with the terror of the times.

God did not forget us. He remembered us; praise Him! Our hearts were full of praise and gratitude as the aircraft rose and turned to the southwest.

### CHAPTER 13

POKO — Holy Ground for a Simba  
Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey Brown and family  
Ron (fifteen)  
Ken and Carol (thirteen-year-old twins)  
David (seven)

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." (Psalm 46:1).

Aubrey Brown writes:

We greet you with Psalm 46:1. First we want to thank each one who laboured in prayer for us during these recent four months. God has answered your prayers. If you had not prayed we might not be here today. I will write this in diary form. You can magnify the Lord with us as you read these facts.

August 6th. Tried to go to Paulis but found barriers across the road and had to return. This was the first time we knew something was wrong but could not understand what it was all about.

August 15th. Ken and I went seventy miles west to a Regional Conference. Met soldiers of the National Army fleeing from the Rebels. We had a good Conference and twenty one souls were dealt with and five baptized. We took a risk on this trip but the Lord protected us. This was the last time we drove our car. We hid it in the forest near our Station.

August 25th. Poko fell to the Rebels after half an hour of shouting. It was a surprise attack and only later we realized that another government was taking over. Local Congolese Government officials were arrested and beaten. Some were shot. As we were only three quarters of a mile from the Government Post of Poko we could hear the shooting. Immediately recruiting began. Young men and boys joined the Popular Army. Good pay and adventure enticed many who had no idea what it meant.

August 29th. Two boys brought us a piece of meat saying it was a gift from the Popular Army. Formerly we bought our meat from the State at a high price. Slowly it dawned upon us we were now in Communist hands. Barriers were put up on all roads. Communications were cut off. There was no way out, no mail or communication with our other mission Stations.

September 13th. Two boys about fourteen years of age came with a driver and demanded our car. They pointed a gun at me and said I must hand over the car keys. All local cars and trucks were taken by the Rebel army. New recruits were called Jeunesse; and after their initiation ceremonies they were made soldiers of the Rebel army called "Lions", or "Simbas" in the Swahili language. A new Captain came to Poko to take control of the Army. He was friendly. He was once a school boy in our mission school at Wamba. It was evident that he was forced into the Rebel army (like crowds of others). This captain said he did not want to kill people. We believe that it was because of him we were let off lightly. God surely arranged this. In other places they were so brutal. The Captain with six or eight other Simbas attended our Sunday services. One Rebel got right with God. Other Rebels came and bought Bibles. We gave them tracts and talked to them about the Lord.

October 20th. Poko had a visit from Christophe Gbenye, the Rebel leader from Stanleyville. He told us he had taken Patrice Lumumba's place. He denounced civilization and missions. One soon knew he was a very wicked man. His speech was terrible and frightening. He told the people that Lumumba was the saviour and that they should pray to him in trouble.

November 4th. Up to this time we carried on with all our meetings. The Rebels told us when they came that we could carry on our meetings until the end of the year, when they intended to set up their Government and then there would be no more Protestant nor Roman Catholic religion. They would set up their Communist regime and would put their teachers into our schools.

November 4th. I was arrested and taken to prison where I found twelve Belgians and one Dutchman. We had four guards. The prison had an iron roof and the heat from ten o'clock in the morning until four o'clock in the afternoon was almost unbearable. The four guards were on duty twenty four hours then changed. Some of them were decent, but most of them insulted us and kept threatening to kill us. Hulda was allowed to send me food which I shared with the others. No reason was given for my arrest. We were told that we were prisoners of war.

November 8th, Sunday. They allowed me to return to the mission for the morning service. Then the guard with a spear followed me back to prison.

November 9th. In the morning the Lord gave me a word from Psalm 44:5.8. In the evening I was released. No reason was given. I was told to stay in the house. Guards came almost every day to see if I were obeying their orders. During November Hulda had to cook for the thirteen prisoners.

November 24th. The Belgian paratroops dropped on Stanleyville. Feeling against all whites began to be very tense.

November 26th. The paratroops dropped on Paulis to rescue hostages. We heard that night that nineteen whites, including one missionary – Mr. Tucker, were beaten to death at Paulis. Two of our children cried when they heard the news. We were deeply distressed, for we knew this missionary well.

November 27th. The Belgian prisoners at Poko were taken out of prison; their hands were tied behind their backs, and then they were thrown on the ground and beaten up and then left out in the hot sun. Rebels wanted to kill them but the Captain refused. One African chief was shot. We heard the shot and wondered if they were killing the hostages. A little while afterwards four Rebels came to our house with spears, clubs and knives. We wondered what they would do to us. We gave them greetings and asked them to sit down on the verandah. They seemed angry and did not have much to say. We gave them coffee, bread and margarine. After half an hour they got up and went away. We were relieved.

November 28th. A big truck drove into our yard. The driver asked if he could leave it there. We had heard that Rebels were running off with hostages, and wondered if the reason for the truck on our compound was to have it in readiness when the National Army came to rescue us. At ten past seven that evening we had a frightening experience when there was a knock on our door. It was dark and two Rebels asked to enter our house. After being refused, they began to get angry and were going to call others, so I opened the door and let them in. We do not fully know what they intended to do to us. We believe there was a restraining hand preventing them from harming us because someone prayed. After about an hour they got up and said, "If any Simba comes during the night you must open the door immediately." Then they left. We spent most of that night in prayer as we did not know what to expect. We were in extreme danger. Prayer changes things! Half the Rebels fled from Poko that night while we were praying. We asked the Lord to remove the truck.

November 29th, Sunday. We had a quiet Sunday. During the morning the Simbas came and took the truck away. We stayed in the house all day, and had special prayer. The Africans on the Station held their meetings. We called the Station people in the evening on to our verandah and we had a time of singing, fellowship and prayer. We did not know at this time that this meeting would be our last with them, nor did they.

November 30th. We shall never forget this day. The morning was fairly quiet. Our Simba guard came near midday. He had a gun and spear. He continually denounced the white people. At half past twelve he left and said he would return at four o'clock in the afternoon. But God intervened, for an hour later we heard shooting about two miles away where we knew there was a road block. A few minutes later we heard a barrage of gunfire at the Government post where the thirteen hostages were in prison. We locked our windows and doors as we did not yet know if friends or enemies had come. Then a jeep and a truck approached our house with the occupants shooting into the air as they came to frighten the Rebels. They pulled up outside our door and shouted, "Come out; you are safe." What welcome words! We came out and gave thanks to God and to them. They were mostly Belgian soldiers – a volunteer ground unit – brave men (thirty of them) risking their lives to save others. Christians, learn from them! Are we willing to risk our lives to save the souls of others? They gave us a few minutes to pack four suitcases. That was all we could take on the plane. They took us to the Government post where we waited until they gathered up sixty five whites. Several times we lay on the floor in one of the buildings because of bullets flying around us. We saw sweat, blood and tears. None of the mercenaries was killed. At half past three that afternoon we were ready to move off in a convoy of six jeeps and four army trucks. We learned from the whites rescued that the Rebels had intended to take all the whites at four o'clock that day to Paulis for execution. But God had stepped in because you prayed. After an hour of travelling the Rebels followed us. Their truck was captured but they escaped into the forest. After three hours of travelling we arrived at a place called Dingela.

December 1st - 3rd. We stayed at Dingela for three days while waiting for a plane. We did not feel too safe as we were still in Rebel territory. On December 3rd at two o'clock in the afternoon a plane arrived and twenty four of us were flown to Leopoldville. The other 150 refugees were flown out the following day. We did not know until we arrived at Leopoldville that two of our fellow missionaries had been killed in Stanleyville, and another two young men, also fellow missionaries, had been killed at Wamba.

Our deliverance was a miracle. From August 25th to November 30th we were completely shut off from the outside world. We praise God for what we saw in the African Christians. The two men who helped us in our home, and the pastor and students all stayed on the Station with us at the risk of their own lives until we were rescued.

### CHAPTER 14

MALINGWIA — Shut in with Death, Shut up to God  
Mr. and Mrs. John Cunningham and family  
John (three years)  
Mary (eighteen months)  
Mr. Arthur Scott

"I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord" (Psalm 118:17).

On August 16th the Simbas arrived at our post at Malingwia near Titule. We were now completely cut off from all other Stations, As both cars were needing major repairs, it left Arthur Scott and ourselves without transport. But the Lord gave the word, "For I ... will be unto her a wall of fire round about" (Zechariah 2:4), and we held on to it by faith. For five long weeks not a single Simba came on to the mission Station – nor did we put a foot outside of it. Yet the coffee plantation just a mile away had numerous visits. It was on the 19th of September we had our first experience with these Rebels, and then for four days running various groups came in. On Monday, September 21st, our radio was taken, leaving us completely without news. Strange feelings settled upon us in those days. During the afternoon of October 31st a foreboding message arrived from the Pastor, Matiasi, that all the white people in the area were being taken into custody and someone would come out soon to arrest us also. They arrived just as we were finishing our evening meal. We had things more or less ready. But only the two men were taken away, while the children and I (Delores Cunningham) were allowed to stay on the Station. For the next six days it was a time of threats and false accusations.

It came to an end at six o'clock on Thursday evening when Matabisi (an active member of the church for over thirty years), the President of the National Congolese Movement in Titule, drove the men back to the Station.

Now followed three weeks of house-arrest which meant we had three Simbas living in our front room! We were informed that they were being put there to protect us from other Simbas, but later we learned that they had been instructed to kill us immediately any other troops or aeroplanes arrived in the area. Tension increased from November 6th to 24th for we had only what rumours and bits of news the Simbas wished to tell us. We had proved that it was impossible to believe anything they said. We were completely shut up to God in the Word and in prayer. We all tried to gather as often as possible, but the Simbas permitted us no privacy. We met on occasions in the evening about seven o'clock in our bedroom. It was such an occasion on Tuesday, November 24th, that the Lord gave us Psalm 118 (especially verse 17 – "I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.") and we agreed in prayer together: 1) For life; 2) To leave immediately the door opened; 3) That by Christmas we would be with loved ones. Rising from his knees Arthur commented, "There will probably be some darker patches yet." He had not gone more than an hour and a half when a car roared into the Station and pulled up outside Arthur's house. John pulled on his trousers and shirt, but Arthur had only time to grab a dressing gown off the door before they were roughly pushed into the car. Then there was a great argument because they wanted John to return for the children and for me. This was quickly terminated by the chauffeur starting the car and they all had to run to get aboard. During the six-mile drive into Titule spears and knives were held against the men's throats and chests, but each time the menacing attitude threatened to get out of hand, the car broke down. This occurred three times in the six miles and so directed the Rebels' attention from the men to the car. At the Station I was crying out to God, "Save now ... O Lord ... Send now prosperity" (Psalm 118:25). But the week went on with rumours that the paratroops had landed in Stanleyville; that Buta was taken by the Central Government troops. We could not believe anything. Titule was in the grip of anarchy. The Lieutenant in charge of the Simbas deserted with five boxes of money stolen from the Greeks and Portuguese shopkeepers. The Simbas went wild, giving themselves over to looting and stealing. During Friday all the twenty nine prisoners were stripped to their underclothes and marched barefooted around the Post. Some, including John, were beaten quite badly.

The Simba guard at the Station ran away on Wednesday. At once the Congolese Christians took turns guarding the house and sleeping at night in the living-room to protect the children and myself. In spite of the Christians being very fearful they remained faithful to their task. It was Saturday morning when a convoy of jeeps and trucks filled with troops passed the Station driving towards Titule. Within half an hour we heard firing from the town. At one time three bazooka shots rattled on the metal roof of the house. Time slipped by slowly and apprehensively till suddenly two jeeps and a lorry filled with all the white prisoners turned in to.the mission. The mercenaries had arrived! And only just in time, for at Titule all the prisoners were about to be marched to the other side of the river to the isolated Roman Catholic mission station. It was here a machine gun was found set up for the execution. The mercenaries gave us twenty minutes to throw a few necessities into suitcases. That night we reached Buta and two days later the evacuation plane touched down at Leopoldville. We were alive and delivered – and by Christmas – thus seeing God's promise to us fulfilled in every detail.

### APPENDIX A

AMBASSADE

DE

BELGIQUE

103, Eaton Square, London S.W.1.

4th December 1964

PC No. 15177

Dear Sir,

I have received your letter dated November 30th, expressing the gratitude of the Worldwide Evangelization Crusade for the recue of six of your missionaries by the Belgian parachute-troops in Paulis.

This message from your Society is greatly appreciated and I wish to thank you for it.

I am forwarding your letter to the Belgian authorities concerned.

Yours truly,

Ambassador.

The General Secretary  
The Worldwide Evangelisation Crusade,  
19 Highland Road,  
London S.E.19.

### APPENDIX B

### A Service of Thanksgiving,  
Remembrance and Prayer

Westminster Chapel, Buckingham Gate, S.W.I.  
Saturday, 6th February, 1965, at 3 p.m.

Conducted by:  
The Rev. Gilbert W. Kirby  
(Evangelical Missionary Alliance)

Organist:  
Mr. Stanley Curtis

Call To Worship

Hymn

A SAFE stronghold our God is still,  
A trusty shield and weapon;  
He'll help us clear from all the ill  
That hath us now o'ertaken.  
The ancient prince of hell  
Hath risen with purpose fell;  
Strong mall of craft and power  
He weareth In this hour,  
On earth Is not his fellow.

With force of arms we nothing can,  
Full soon were we down-ridden;  
But for us fights the proper Man,  
Whom God Himself hath bidden.  
Ask ye, who Is this same?  
Christ Jesus is His name,  
The Lord Sabaoth's Son:  
He, and no other one,  
Shall conquer in the battle.

And were this world all devils o'er,  
And watching to devour us.  
We lay it not to heart so sore,  
Not they can overpower us.  
And let the prince of ill  
Look grim as e'er he will,  
He harms us not a whit;  
For why, his doom Is writ;  
A word shall quickly slay him.

God's word, for all their craft and force,  
One moment will not linger,  
But, spite of hell, shall have its course;  
'Tis written by His finger.  
And though they take our life,  
Goods, honour, children, wife,  
Yet is their profit small;  
These things shall vanish all:  
The city of God remaineth.

Prayer of Invocation  
Mr. Ernest W. Oliver. (Regions Beyond Missionary Union).

The Reading of Scripture  
The Rev. T. A. Beetham.  
(Africa Secretary, Conference of British Missionary Societies).

By way of Testimony:  
Mr. H. Jenkinson... (Unevangelized Fields Mission)  
Miss Doreen West... (Baptist Missionary Society)  
Mr. Jack Scholes... (Worldwide Evangelization Crusade)  
Miss Kathleen Lucas... (Assemblies of God)

### Hymn

THE Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want:  
He makes me down to lie  
In pastures green; He leadeth me.  
The quiet waters by.

My soul He doth restore again,  
And me to walk doth make  
Within the path of righteousness,  
E'en for His own name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through death's dark vale,  
Yet will I fear none ill  
For Thou art with me, and Thy rod  
And staff me comfort still.

My table Thou hast furnished  
In presence of my foes;  
My head Thou dost with oil anoint.  
And my cup overflows.

Goodness and mercy all my life  
Shall surely follow me;  
And in God's house for evermore  
My dwelling-place shall be. Amen.

Pasteur Georges Tomatala ( _Baptist Missionary Society_ )  
(Interpreted by the Rev. C. J. Parsons)

The Act Of Remembrance

Conducted by the Rev. Leonard F. Harris  
_(Unevangelized Fields Mission)_

### Hymn

FOR all the saints who from their labours rest,  
Who Thee by faith before the world confest.  
Thy name, O Jesus, be for ever blest:  
_Alleluia!_

Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might;  
Thou, Lord, their captain in the well-fought fight;  
Thou In the darkness drear their one true light:

O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold,  
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,  
And win with them the victor's crown of gold:

O blest communion! fellowship divine!  
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;  
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine:

But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;  
The saints triumphant rise in bright array:  
The King of Glory passes on His way:

From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,  
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,  
Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost:  
Alleluia! Amen.

Address

Mr. Leonard Moules  
_(Worldwide Evangelization Crusade)_

### Hymn

CROWN Him with many crowns,  
The Lamb upon His throne;  
Hark! how the heavenly anthem drowns  
All music but its own.  
Awake, my soul, and sing  
Of Him who died for thee,  
And hail Him as thy chosen King  
Through all eternity.

Crown Him the Lord of Love!  
Behold His hands and side,  
Rich wounds, yet visible above  
In beauty glorified:  
No angel in the sky  
Can fully bear that sight,  
But downward bends his burning eye  
At mysteries so bright:

Crown Him the Son of God,  
Before the worlds began:  
And ye, who tread where He hath trod,  
Crown Him the Son of man;  
Who every grief hath known  
That wrings the human breast,  
And takes and bears them for His own,  
That all in Him may rest.

Crown Him the Lord of life,  
Who triumphed o'er the grave,  
And rose victorious in the strife  
For those He came to save:  
His glories now we sing  
Who died, and rose on high;  
Who died eternal life to bring,  
And lives that death may die.

Crown Him the Lord of Heaven,  
One with the Father known,  
And the blest Spirit, through Him given,  
From yonder glorious throne.  
All hall, Redeemer, hail!  
For Thou hast died for me:  
Thy praise shall never, never fail  
Throughout eternity.

Benediction

"The Noble Army Of Martyrs Praise Thee"

Known To Be Killed  
Chester Burk... Unevangelized Fields Mission... (Canada)  
Paul Carlson... Evangelical Mission Covenant Church... (U.S.A.)  
Irene Ferrell... Congo Inland Mission... (U.S.A.)  
Muriel Harman... Worldwide Evangelization Crusade... (Canada)  
Burleigh Law... Central Congo Methodist Mission... (U.S.A.)  
William McChesney... Worldwide Evangelization Crusade... (U.S.A.)  
Hector McMillan... Unevangelized Fields Mission... (Canada)  
Phyllis Rine... Africa Christian Mission... (U.S.A.)  
James Rodger... Worldwide Evangelization Crusade  
Cyril Taylor... Worldwide Evangelization Crusade... (New Zealand)  
Joseph Walter Tucker... Assemblies of God... (U.S.A.)

Died In Prison  
William Scholten... Unevangelized Fields Mission... (U.S.A.)

Killed In 1960  
Edmund Hodgson... Congo Evangelistic Mission...  
Elton Knauf... Congo Evangelistic Mission...

Missing, Presumed Killed  
John Arton... Unevangelized Fields Mission  
Elizabeth Arton... Unevangelized Fields Mission  
Heather Arton  
Mary Baker... Unevangelized Fields Mission... (U.S.A.)  
Robina D. Gray... Unevangelized Fields Mission  
Margaret Hayes... Unevangelized Fields Mission  
Laurel K. McCallum... Unevangelized Fields Mission... (Australia)  
Dennis E. Parry... Unevangelized Fields Mission  
Nora M. Parry... Unevangelized Fields Mission  
Andrew Parry  
Grace Parry  
Ian M. Sharpe... Unevangelized Fields Mission  
Audrey M. Sharpe... Unevangelized Fields Mission  
Jillian Sharpe  
Alison Sharpe  
Andrew Sharpe  
Jean E. Sweet... Unevangelized Fields Mission

Missing  
Winifred Davies... Worldwide Evangelization Crusade

"Be Thou Faithful Unto Death, And I Will Give Thee A Crown Of Life" (Rev. 2.10)

Although in this Service only Protestant missionaries in Congo known to have died, or presumed dead, have been mentioned by name, we are not unmindful of the great suffering and tragic loss of life sustained by the Congolese Church, involving many of its most devoted leaders and probably thousands of its members. Further, we grieve over the loss of life, suffering and humiliation of other expatriates, including many Roman Catholic missionaries.

"And others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover of bonds and imprisonment:  
They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented;  
(Of whom the world was not worthy:) they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth."  
(Hebrews 11. 36-39).

### APPENDIX C

Memorial Message  
given in Westminster Chapel, London  
on February 6th 1965  
by  
Leonard C.J. Moules

THIS IS NO ACCIDENT

1 Peter 1:6 (Phillips' translation).

Reading: Acts. 9:10-20.

Premises:

1. It was a proving of their faith to the glory of God. (1 Peter 1:6).  
2. It was a pruning for fruit to the glory of God. (John 15:2).  
3. It was promoting the return in glory of the Son of God; (Revelation 6:11).

Introduction:

The dominant thought and statement to be shared with you this afternoon has not been decided by me. It has been given us by one who this afternoon leans over the battlements of heaven watching this pause in the battle.

I may be theologically in error to think of Hebrews 12:2 like this, but as it means much to me – let me think on! The Word of the Lord came to Muriel Harman early in the days of struggle and suffering. Its source was from her reading Phillips' translation of I Peter 1:6. ". .. even though at present you are temporarily harassed by all kinds of trials and temptations. This is no accident – it happens to prove your faith, ..." "This is no accident" – and so she encouraged her fellow missionaries who were beaten and flung upon a live ant-hill, and as almost naked she walked with fellow missionaries in similar affliction. With the blood trickling on to her bare flesh from a head wound from rubber truncheons, she encouraged herself, "This is no accident." The text was her anchorage when driven into the death room to be machine-gunned down with many others.

Rev. E.H. Hamilton, of the China Inland Mission, wrote of the martyred Vinson:

Afraid? Of What?  
A flash, a crash, a pierced heart;  
Darkness, light, O Heaven's art!  
A wound of His a counterpart!  
Afraid – of that?

Muriel Harman agrees: "This is no accident."  
What then was God's intention in what we call tragedy?

1. It was a proving of their faith to the glory of God. (1 Peter 1:6).

The shadow of this principle is long and stretches back to the record of the Patriarch Job. The Bible says the Devil taunts God that this servant is only righteous because of the blessing with which God enriched him. It is only superficial, a veneer, and therefore it is of no value. It bears no hall mark of character. It is no subscription to the glory of God. God faces His antagonist and says, "Test him!" Job's life at the end of that desperate period is a life that bears the character of God. It is now a life of tested faith and proven love, which has qualified in the examination. Job becomes the glory of God.

The world demands the stamp of test and quality today. The bridge bears its load-factor. The jewellery bears its hall mark. The fuse has its capacity printed on it. Our lives also must have their imprint of proven worth.

Last week the majority of us without doubt watched in one way or another the last journey of the greatest Englishman of our times. Because of my military experience I was moved deeply by the pageantry. Where was the place of honour in that great procession? I know many a boy would have longed to hold the drag-ropes of the gun-carriage. Surely there was no other place of greater honour. I wonder if that is true. Those young men were too young for the war years of sweat, tears and blood. They were deeply moved, yet were too fresh of complexion. I looked behind the bands of the R.A.F., for the two ranks of "The Few". There they were, heroes of the Battle of Britain. Older and of proven courage; of unequalled daring and loyalty; of tested character, of whom Sir Winston Churchill himself gave highest praise at a time which was "their finest hour".

We are giving memory to another "few" this afternoon. Some in glory, others with us, others yet praying and thinking of us today. They are of proven love and devotion. They have passed through their finest hour and now honour their Lord and Commander Jesus Christ to His glory, majesty and power. And this is no accident!

Listen to what the Rev. Hamilton has further to say...

Afraid? Of What?  
Afraid to see the Saviour's face,  
To hear His welcome, and to trace  
The glory gleam from wounds of grace?  
Afraid – of that?

"This is no accident."

2. It was a pruning for fruit to the glory of God. (John 15:2).

The dead wood is cast away. The living fruitful branch is cut back. Time and time again the Lord Jesus Christ underlined the law of life. A seed falls into the ground and lives to live alone. If it falls to die it destines the harvest. His disciples did not understand it then, and even today they fail to understand the reason for the pruning knife. We must grasp the principle of fruitful living. Paul gripped this premise, and the glory of the principle gripped him. Hear him ...

"Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest...  
For we which are alway delivered unto death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest...  
Death worketh in us, but life in you." (2 Corinthians 4:10-12).

"I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." (Galatians 2:20).  
"Who now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh for His body's sake, which is the church." (Colossians 1:24).

Never in the history of spiritual life has life of eternal dimensions ever come forth but through death. Eternal life which is ours today is only through the death of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

In our baptism we enter the waters and they cover us. It is symbolic of entering into His death. We rise from the waters in testimony that His resurrection life is our life from thenceforth.

There are multiple examples of this principle that only in crushing and bruising, in burying and incising, the spices of life may flow so that we may say as the bride of the Song of Solomon, "Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits."  
(Song of Solomon 4:16).

For what then is this pruning? First of all for the church in Congo. That she may be won to a new relationship with her Lord in devotion. That she may hear anew in a fresh realization her Lord calling her to service – her rightful and privileged commission within her own land. That she may be exhorted to live and to die for Jesus Christ as her own nationals and missionaries have died in this glorious faith. Watch, dear friends, watch the new life, and the new dimensions of faith about to fructify in Congo.

Then for the church at home. Let us face this stark reality of fact that it is the death of His loved ones in tragic ways and places that is the price to purchase a decision of devotion and consecration.

Consider the challenge of the Auca and Amazonian Indians. Over the years the pioneer few have battled on alone. Suddenly five missionaries died, and the missionary response to fill the gaps was greater in number than the Aucas themselves! There was need before in finance and manpower, but it took death to hew it from the rock face of the churches' indifference.

The hour is urgent and the world must hear. The church is tragically indifferent. Today we face the greatest price one can pay, and it brings upon our heads the most sacred of responsibilities. What is our response? The seed fell and died in Congo. The harvest must be for the world.

The glorified are watching, praying and pleading that they shall not have died in vain. Your answer this afternoon is the answer to their prayer.

See how the spiritual poet brings out this very thought...

Afraid? Of What?  
To do by death what life could not –  
Baptize with blood a stony plot,  
Till souls shall blossom from the spot?  
Afraid – of that?

"This is no accident."

3. It was promoting the return in glory of the Lord Jesus Christ." (Revelation 6:11).  
When the crisis was at its height, and the rumours and news added up to overwhelming tragedies, I came downstairs at our London Headquarters to meet a lady missionary who was on furlough from Congo. She has a total of forty seven years' service in that field. I was a little reluctant to meet her as I felt she might have been very deeply distressed by the news. But I found a triumphant soul. On seeing me, she said, "Len, He is making up His number – Revelation 6:11 He is making up His number." I replied, "Amen," and hurried to the office to look up Revelation 6:11 to find out to what I had said Amen! This is what I read:

"And white robes were given unto every one of them; and it was said unto them, that they should rest yet for a little season, until their fellowservants also and their brethren, that should be killed as they were, should be fulfilled."

Three times God has linked His sovereignty to the pace of man.  
First the ark waiting in the river bed of Jordan. (Joshua 3:17).  
Second, the preaching of the Gospel "And then shall the end come." (Matthew 24:14).  
Finally, waiting for those who are to give their lives unto death. The number is not yet complete. (Revelation 6:11).

Every missionary age has had its ability to fulfill the commission, and each age has had its challenge to the highest cost. Thirty years ago disease struck with cerebral malaria, yellow fever, and cholera. Today they hold little fear under modern treatment and drugs. The years of yesterday saw many youthful graves in missionary endeavour. Today they are few and far between. Yesterday we knew little of the explosions of nationalism and political intrigue that envelop the innocent missionary and national Christian. Today it is a factor to be faced. It can be death under a new sentence

The challenge of today is as real and vital as yesterday. We have the equipment, science and engineering to do the job in this generation also, but the price is just as high.

The completed task of worldwide evangelization is at a scheduled cost of martyrs. The Scriptures say so. The full price has not yet been paid – otherwise Christ would have already returned.The programme and the price are interlinked and inseparable.

In 1910 we cried, "To bring back the King. Evangelize in this generation" or, "Evangelize to a finish." The effort was great and the price was heavy. It was not enough. We may be further from the goal now than then. I do not know.

But Congo has made her eternal deposit in the vaults of heaven, yet there is still a balance to be paid. The price of the unfinished task.

This Memorial Service calls for that effort. Are we acceptable in devotion and obedience to Christ's cause, so that we are prepared to be a part of that price to bring back the King in His glory?

He is making up the number. Hallelujah. They said that in glory. I am only picking up the echo. Can you say hallelujah today? Can you sing "'Tis the church triumphant singing worthy the Lamb"? Let us count the cost now. We must make the decision now in the presence of the Master and the memory of the martyrs. Congo was no accident. In Jesus Christ the tragedy of those who suffered or died is triumph for the Church in Congo and in us here at home. It was for me and for you. What then, if it is no accident, is your response now to this solemn intention of God in you?
