In narrow, sparsely-populated Kinmen, people along the roads lined with ephedra often see the silver-haired, silver-bearded Reverend Bernard Druetto roar by on his motorcycle. Most Kinmen residents who attain his age are enjoying the blessing of being surrounded by their children and grandchildren. Often most of them are in the doorways of their homes or walking in their yards or fields. Not one of them follows his "unsettled "lifestyle of running about at age 81.

The strange thing is that in Kinmen, where going in and out is severely restricted and where perpetual curfew is enforced, this priest still has a special night pass issued by the garrison commander. "This is to make it easier for the priest to give first aid in a nighttime emergency," explained parishioner Tung Pinsen.

A narration of the priest's life would read like a storybook!

"I was one of a pair of twins; my brother died of pneumonia 20 days after birth," says the priest, whose mother brought him to Notre Dame Cathedral, praying: "Lord, I wish to offer you this child and let him devote his life to Your service. I ask you to care for this child." Thus as he grew older Bernard decided to become a priest who would administer medicine to people.

The goal of Reverend Druetto's Order of Friars Minor is to bring light where there is darkness, to bring love where there is pain. Remote places, especially China, where Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism, prevail, are in their eyes a "savage wilderness" devoid of the great love of the Lord and waiting to be civilized. In 193l the 23-year-old Druetto was granted his wish to come to China. At that time the only two characters he knew were "Changsha," the locale where he was to preach and heal. Each day he would travel on horseback to treat the sick. "Once I ran into a tiger; there are many in Hunan," he said. Luckily, he soon found a gun to scare the big cat away; otherwise, he would have "reported back" to the Almighty much sooner.

Reverend Druetto spent 20 years in Hunan, the first 19 of which were extremely smooth. "I had 14 churches and over a million faithful." Early in 1949 he went to Liuyang County to set up a church and hospital, but ty August the Maoists had arrived. He was quickly tagged a "secret agent, "an "imperialist element," and became a "mortal enemy of the masses." He was imprisoned for eight months, including a record 23-day stretch during which he drank only one cup of water. His mouth still shows a gap where the Reds knocked out some teeth as he relates: "At first I was very anxious, not knowing what they would do to me, but suddenly it hit home like a supernatural light. 'What are you afraid of?' I asked myself. For sure, a priest never seeks fame and fortune. Under this basic religious faith, to serve the people and give everything to God, there is really nothing to fear! On the contrary, once my mind was made up, it allowed my uneasiness to pass."

At one point the priest was dragged before interrogators who wanted him to make a mark in lieu of his signature. He answered humorously: "Sign it yourselves; it was you who wrote down these crimes." On another occasion the Communist soldiers frightened him: "We can take you down by the river and kill you; aren't you afraid?"

"No, I'm not afraid."

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

Finally, all the Communists could do was call forth the masses of people for a public tribunal and use them to convict him. They never guessed that no one would come forward to testify about the priest's "evil deeds" or attack this "foreign lackey." Instead, everyone banded together and petitioned for his release. At last the Communist troops could only expel him: "If you ever set foot on the mainland again, you'll be shot within five minutes!"

"I'm definitely coming back!" insisted the priest. "With my heart and 2/3 of my body weight left on the mainland, how could I not come back?"

After eight months' imprisonment the priest's weight had plummeted from 112 to 30-odd kilograms.

Following his expulsion, Druetto arrived in Hong Kong. Eight months of internment had wreaked havoc on his internal viscera, which neither Chinese nor Western medicine could remedy. After living in a hospital for two months in freedom, he dashed off to Vietnam's Piiuquoc Island. When he received family mail and saw the handwriting he went wild with excitement. It was his mother's! "Ma's hands and feet had been paralyzed for over ten years; now she was fine." When the priest's mother recovered from illness, she had to begin the letter: "Dear Son--When you receive this note, I might be dead. . . ."

To this day, whenever the priest talks about the incident, his eyes turn red. "Mother said in her letter that she had been unable to help me all along, but that when she took leave of this world and was at the side of the Almighty, she would ask God to help me more. . . ."

Prodded by this string of mishaps, he took the initiative of asking the Church for a mission to Kinmen. At that time the island was impoverished and dangerous, but that mattered not to him; the important thing was that it was nearest to the mainland. Declared the priest: "I'll keep watch at the Golden Gate, just so that when the Mainland is recaptured, I'll be the first to return."

In 1954 Kinmen was an impoverished land, a small island lacking resources. "At that time life was extremely difficult; I myself planted some pommes de terre (yams)," he explains, "and now Kinmen is like one big garden." Where people rode horsedrawn carriages instead of walking, Reverend Druetto also raised a horse and continued his ministry and medical practice. In addition, there was one other kind of work--that of digging cannon shells. "When the firefight was most intense," demonstrates the priest, "I dug more than 50 shells out of my yard!"

As for dealing with sickness, since Kinmen in those days lacked medical facilities, Reverend Druetto became "a one-man medical team." Although nowadays there is the Granite Hospital that meets anyone's standards, there are still many patients accustomed to having the priest care for them, especially the poor. Unless there was an emergency case, he would usually go out at night, so he needed a permit to get through.

In 1971, while the priest was working on a roof, he became careless and fell, breaking a leg. He never thought that in 1983 he would again fall from a roof, only this time the steel pin that had helped hold his injured limb together was shattered into five or six pieces. Two months after surgery he rode his own motor Taoyuan County and found a fellow missionary who had been in Hunan. The X-ray showed that the wound had healed and made the doctor say over and over: "It was not my sharp medical skill; it was 'somebody else' helping out."

For the priest's 80th birthday last year, his parishioners gave him a motorcycle. "In the past it was I who helped them; now they are helping me." After some deep thought he said: "I won over many, many people. At first, when I left the mainland, there were ten persons who were willing to enter Hell to save me. Only after arriving in Hong Kong did I learn that they had been killed following my departure. How long until ten lives can be repaid?" the red-eyed priest asks himself. "This is my burden."

There was a nun who asked: "When can we go to Kinmen?" The priest answered: "Yesterday!" Everyone thought he must be hard of hearing, so they asked him again, but he still said, "Yesterday!" Only then did the group laugh: Reverend Druetto shrugged his shoulders innocently: "I can't tell what tomorrow will bring."

Put into Buddhist jargon, longing for yesterday is obstinacy; anticipating tomorrow is daydreaming. Only clinging to the present is realistic, and this priest definitely grasps every minute, each second. At this very moment he must be hurrying along some road in Kinmen, like a young person rushing to keep a date with a lover. It's just that his "beloved" number in the thousands.

[Picture Caption]

Reverend Bernard M. Druetto is a colorful figure who has made many contributions to the people of Kinmen.

Treating people's ailments free of charge is one way Reverend Druetto shows the love and devotion vital to Catholicism.

Photograph of the priest, taken in Hong Kong shortly after his expulsion by the Communists. In this picture the former 112-kg. man has dwindled to 30-odd kilograms. (photo courtesy of Rev. Druetto)

In 1965 Pope Paul held an audience with Reverend Druetto. (photo courtesy of Rev. Druetto)

This motorcycle was a gift from his parishioners for his 80th birthday. He rides it through the streets of Kinmen daily, administering medicine.

Reverend Druetto in the Number Two Church at Kinmen. Destroyed in a tragic fire several years ago, it is being made ready for restoration.

In order to facilitate "quick" return to the mainland and service to its people, Reverend Druetto insists on living at the "Golden Gate" nearest to the mainland until the end of his days. (photo by Wen Chin Yang)

Treating people's ailments free of charge is one way Reverend Druetto shows the love and devotion vital to Catholicism.

Photograph of the priest, taken in Hong Kong shortly after his expulsion by the Communists. In this picture the former 112-kg. man has dwindled to 30-odd kilograms. （photo courtesy of Rev. Druetto）

In 1965 Pope Paul held an audience with Reverend Druetto. （photo courtesy of Rev. Druetto）

This motorcycle was a gift from his parishioners for his 80th birthday. He rides it through the streets of Kinmen daily, administering medicine.

Reverend Druetto in the Number Two Church at Kinmen. Destroyed in a tragic fire several years ago, it is being made ready for restoration.

In order to facilitate "quick" return to the mainland and service to its people, Reverend Druetto insists on living at the "Golden Gate" nearest to the mainland until the end of his days. （photo by Wen Chin Yang）