"He's not here. No--" this in answer to my startled look, "just off for
a stroll, towards China this time, I think. Yesterday he visited Lhasa.
Said it's quite a place. Talked to the Lamas in Tibetan, and they
understood him. He calls it playing Buddha."
Baker got up and searched among the maps, finally finding one of
southeast Asia. He spread it out before me, and placed a finger rather
vaguely on the great Yunnan Plateau between Burma and China.
"We're here, somewhere. Buddha doesn't know exactly, himself. He made it
to Lhasa by following the Himalayas, and watching for the Potala. I hope
he'll find his way back this time--be a bit awkward for us if he
doesn't."
He stepped outside and brought in some cold cooked rice and meat.
"Kazu brought us a handful of cows yesterday. They were practically
mashed into hamburger. I guess you'd call this pounded steak."
I ate some of the meat and settled back to rest again. Presently I dozed
off.
When I awakened it was dark and Kazu was back. Martin had started a big
campfire outside, evidently with Kazu's aid, for it was stoked with
several logs fully eight feet in diameter and was sending flames fifty
feet into the sky. Kazu himself was squatting directly over it, staring
down at us. When I came to the door, he spoke.
"Ah, little brother Bill. I am so sorry that you were hurt. I am afraid
I forgot to be gentle, and that is not forgiveable in Buddha."
I made an appropriate reply, and then waited. Evidently he had as yet
told nothing of his day's expedition. Finally he plucked a roasted
bullock from the fire and popped it into his mouth like a nut.
"Today," he said, "I visit Chungking, Nanking, Peking. I think I see
hundred million Chinese. I know more than that see me. Also I talk to
them. They understand, for miles. They expected me. As you say, brother
Llewelyn, Rau has excellent propaganda machine. Everywhere they hail me
as Buddha, come to save them from war and disease and western
imperialism. I speak to them as Buddha; today, I am Buddha."
Baker glanced at us meaningfully and murmured, "I was afraid of this."
But Kazu continued.
"Today all of China believes I am Buddha. Only you and I know this is
not so, but we can fight best if they believe."
"Have you eaten?" inquired Martin. Kazu nodded.
"At every temple they collect rice for Buddha. Many small meals make
full belly. But," his face wrinkled with concern, "many thousands could
live on what I eat today. China is so poor. So many people, so little
food. I must find ways to help them." He paused, and then resumed in a
firmer tone.
"But not in communist way. Rau was right about western imperialists, but
he named wrong country. Russian imperialists have enslaved China. First
we must drive communists from China. Then I can help."
"Amen," said Baker softly. Then, to Kazu....
"We've been trying to do just that for years. But how can you fight
seven hundred million people?"
"Don't fight--lead them."
It sounded so simple, the way he said it. Well, maybe he could. But now
Baker had more practical questions.
"What does the rest of the world think about all this? Have you talked
to any Europeans, or heard a radio?"
Kazu shook his head. "But I caught communist General. He tell me Russia
sending army to capture me. He say only hope is for me to surrender, or
Russian drop atom bomb on me. Then I eat him."
We must have showed our startled reaction, for Kazu laughed.
"Not much nourishment in communist. I eat him for propaganda--many
people see me do it. Effect very good." He paused. "Not tasty, but
symbolic meal. China is like Buddha, giant who can eat up enemies."
"What are you going to do next?" asked Baker.
"That is question. I need more information. Where is leadership in China
I can trust? What will Russians do? How long for British and Americans
to wake up?"
"You're not the only one asking these questions," said Baker. "But maybe
you can get some answers."
* * * * *
Before Kazu could continue, Chamberlin held up his hand for silence. We
listened, and presently heard above the crackle of the great bonfire,
the throb of an airplane engine. Kazu heard it too, for he suddenly
arose and stepped back out of the light. We four also hastened into the
shadows and peered into the dark sky. The approaching aircraft displayed
no lights, but presently we saw it in the firelight--a multi-jet bomber
bearing American markings. We rushed back into the illuminated area and
danced up and down, waving our arms. The huge plane swung in a wide
circle and came in less than five hundred feet above the hilltop. I
could make out faces peering down at us from the glassed greenhouse in
front. As it roared past, one wing tipped slightly in the updraft from
the fire, and then suddenly the plane stopped dead in its tracks. The
jets roared a deeper note as they bit into still air, and then very
slowly and gently the great ship moved back and down until it rested on
its belly beside our steel box. Not until it was quite safe on the
ground did Kazu's hands release their hold on the wings, where he had
caught it in midair.
The eleven crew men from the B125 came out with their hands in the air,
but their expressions were more incredulous than frightened. Baker added
to the unreality of the situation by his greeting, done in the best "Dr.
Livingstone-I-presume" manner.
"Welcome to Camp Yunnan. Sorry we had to be so abrupt. I'm Baker, these
are Chamberlin, Martin, Cady."
"I'm Faulkner," replied the leader of the Americans automatically, and
then he abruptly sat down and was violently sick. We waited patiently
until he could speak again.
"My God, I didn't believe it when we heard." He was talking to no-one in
particular. "One minute we're flying at 450 miles per hour, the next
we're picked out of the air like a--like a--"
He gave up. Kazu came into the firelight and squatted down, quite
slowly. Baker introduced him.
"Colonel, I'd like you to meet Kazu Takahashi." The American arose and
extended his hand, and then dropped it abruptly to his side. Kazu
emitted a thunderous chuckle.
"Handshake is, I fear, formality I must always pass up, even at risk of
impoliteness."
I think that the language, and particularly the phrasing, jolted the
airmen even more than the actual capture. Colonel Faulkner kept shaking
his head and murmuring "My God!" for several moments, and then pulled
himself together. "So the story's really true after all," he finally
said. "We got it on the radio day before yesterday at Manila. It was so
garbled at first that nobody could make any sense. Ships reported
thousand foot men wading in the ocean. New Macassar radio reported that
Buddha was reincarnated, and then denied the story. Announcements of a
pitched battle at Singapore, and frantic reports from every town on the
peninsula. Then a statement by some Lama on Macassar that the British
had kidnaped Buddha, had him hypnotized or doped, and were using him to
exterminate China."
He paused and looked up at Kazu, who had bent down until his face was
only a hundred feet above us.
"Part of it is true," said Baker. "There was a giant wading in the
ocean. As to the rest, I fear we have caught the red radio without a
script. I'll tell you the story presently, but just now there are more
urgent things to do. Is your radio working?"
Faulkner nodded and led us towards the plane. Baker continued.
"Briefly, Kazu is a mutation produced by the Hiroshima bomb. He's been
groomed for twenty years to take over as the world's largest puppet, but
it turns out he has a mind of his own. We just happened along, and are
going on for the ride. Want to join the party?"
The Colonel grinned for the first time as we all squeezed into the radio
compartment of the plane.
"I like travel," he said. "It's so broadening."
The radio was not only operative, but proved most informative as well.
Every transmitter on earth, it seemed, was talking about the giant. In
the course of an hour we listened to a dozen major stations and got as
many versions of the story. The communist propaganda factory had
obviously been caught flat footed, for their broadcasts were a hopeless
mixture of releases evidently prepared for the planned introduction of
Buddha to the world, and hastily assembled diatribes against the
capitalist imperialists who had so foully captured him. Some of the
Russians apparently were not in on the secret of Buddha's dimensions,
for they described in detail how a raiding party of eighty American
commando-gangsters had landed by parachute on Yat, seized Buddha, and
taken him away in a seaplane.
Before we went to sleep that night, Kazu extinguished the fire so that
no one else would be attracted as the Colonel had been.
* * * * *
Next morning the first question concerned transportation. Colonel
Faulkner naturally did not want to leave his plane, particularly since
it was undamaged, but a takeoff from our narrow mountain ledge was
obviously impossible, so he regretfully ordered his crew to unload their
personal effects for transfer to our box. At this point Kazu stepped in.
"If you will enter your airplane and start jets," he said, "Buddha will
serve as launching mechanism."
Before the takeoff, the Colonel transferred his spare radio gear to our
box, along with an auxiliary generator, and we agreed on a schedule to
keep in touch. Then Kazu gently picked up the bomber, raised it high
above his head and sent it gliding off to the north. The engines coughed
a couple of times and then caught with a roar. Colonel Faulkner wagged
his wings and vanished into the haze.
Our plan was to follow the plane east to the Wu River, and then north to
its meeting with the Yangtze, which occurs some seventy five miles below
Chungking. While the B125 cruised around us in a great circle, we loaded
our belongings into the box, and Kazu picked us up and signalled the
plane that we were ready. Colonel Faulkner's intention had been to
circle us rather than leave us behind with his superior speed, but in a
moment it became clear that this would not be necessary. Kazu set off
down the canyon at a pace better than three hundred miles per hour, and
the Colonel had to gun his motors to keep up.
We passed only a few small towns on the Wu. Kazu had been here before,
and had evidently stopped to talk and make friends, for we observed none
of the fright which had formerly greeted his advent. Instead, crowds ran
out to meet us, waving the forbidden Nationalist flag and shooting off
firecrackers. Kazu spoke briefly in Cantonese to each group, and then
hurried on. Baker explained that he was giving them formal blessings, in
the name of Buddha.
An hour's time brought us to Fowchow, on the mighty Yangtze Kiang. Here
Kazu turned left, wading in the stream, and negotiated the seventy odd
miles to Chungking in fifteen minutes.
The distance from Chungking to Hankow is somewhat more than five hundred
miles. For much of this distance the Yangtze is bounded by mountains and
rocky gorges, but in the final 150 miles, the hills drop away and the
river winds slowly through China's lake country. Kazu made good time in
the gorge, but his feet sank a hundred feet into the soft alluvial soil
of the lowlands and he had constantly to watch out for villages and
farms.
Buddha had not visited Hankow before, but he was expected. Even before
the city came into view, the roads were lined with people and the canals
and lakes jammed with sampans. Just outside of the city we noticed a
small group of men in military uniform under a white flag. We guessed
that they represented the communist city government, and so did Kazu,
for he set our box beside the group and ordered the spokesman to come in
for a parlay. The unfortunate officer who was picked obviously did not
relish the idea, particularly after Martin cracked in English, "He
doesn't look fat enough." Giving Martin a glare, he drew himself up
stiffly and said, "General Soo prepared to die, if necessary for people
of China."
The communist General showed somewhat less bravado after the stomach
turning ascent to the six hundred foot level, but he managed to get off
a speech in answer to Kazu's question. As before, Baker gave us a
running translation.
"He says welcome to Hankow. The people's government, ever responsive to
the will of the citizens, joins with all faithful Buddhists in welcoming
Buddha, and in expressing heartfelt thanksgiving that rumors claiming
Buddha to be a puppet of western imperialists are all false. Now he's
saying that there is to be a big party--a banquet--for Buddha, in the
central square. Rice has been collected and cooked, and a thousand sheep
slaughtered to feed hungry Buddha."
Kazu replied formally that while he appreciated the hospitality of the
people of Hankow, he could not accept food from the enemies of China.
These words, which were clearly audible to the entire city, were greeted
with cheers by the throng below. The General took this in, thought about
it a moment, and then made a neat about face.
"General Soo," said he stoutly, "was communist when he believed
communism only hope for China. You have changed everything. General Soo
now faithful Buddhist!"
"May I," said Baker with a grin, "be the first to congratulate General
Soo on his perspicacity."
* * * * *
As the General had promised, there was a great banquet spread. In spite
of Soo's protestations, Baker insisted on sampling each course rather
extensively for sleeping potions or poison, but either the idea had not
occurred to the communists, or there hadn't been enough time, or poison
available.
For the most part the civil government of Hankow joined with General Soo
in a loudly declared conversion to Buddhism without communist trappings.
In spite of Baker's skepticism, I believed that most of them were quite
sincere. At least, they sincerely wanted to be on the side with the most
power, and for the time being at least, Kazu seemed an easy winner.
General Soo, in particular, insisted on making a long speech in which he
declared the Russians to be the true "western imperialists", now
unmasked, who since the days of the first Stalin had sought to enslave
China with lies and trickery. Baker shook his head over this, and
privately opined that Soo was a very poor fence straddler: such remarks
went beyond the needs of expediency, and would probably completely
alienate him from the Kremlin. However, the crowd thought it was all
fine.
Kazu replied with a short, and generally well planned statement of his
policy.
"Those who follow me," he concluded, "have no easy path. They must be
strong, to throw off the yoke of those who would enslave them, but they
must be merciful to their enemies in defeat, even to those who but a
moment before were at their throats. For though we win the war, if we at
the same time forget what we have fought for, then we have indeed lost
all. I proclaim to all China, and to her enemies both within and without
our borders, that the faith of Buddha has returned, and that
interference in China's affairs by any other nation will not be
tolerated."
Colonel Faulkner had landed at the Hankow airport and now, with his
crew, shared our private banquet on the terrace of the city's largest
hotel, only a few hundred feet from where Kazu squatted. Under cover of
the cheering and speechmaking, he relayed to us some news which he had
heard on the radio, which was not quite so rosy.
It seemed, first, that the Chinese III Army, under General Wu, had
declared itself for Buddha, and was engaged in a pitched battle with the
Manchurian First Army north of Tientsin. The communist garrison at
Shanghai, where there was a large population of Russian "colonists", had
holed in, awaiting attack by a Buddhist Peoples Army assembled from
revolting elements of the II and VII Corps at Nanking. A revolt at
Canton, far to the south, had been put down by the communists with the
aid of air support coming directly from Russia. The most ominous note,
however, was a veiled threat by old Mao himself that if mutinous
elements did not submit, he might call upon his great ally to the east
to use the atomic bomb. Mao spoke apparently from near Peking, where he
was assembling the I and V Armies.
We digested this news while Kazu finished the last of his 1000 sheep. We
all cast anxious glances into the sky. Soviet planes at Canton meant
that they could be here also, and Buddha, squatting in a glare of light
in the midst of Hankow, was a sitting duck for a bombing attack.
As soon as the main part of the formalities were over, Baker managed to
get Kazu's attention, and informed him of the situation. Kazu's reaction
was immediate and to the point.
"We do not await attack. We go north to free our brothers, and to
instruct our errant General Mao in Buddha's truth."
By the time we were packed and in our travelling box, the time was
eight-thirty. Reference to our map showed the airline distance from
Hankow to Peking to be about 630 miles, and Buddha, greatly refreshed by
the food and rest, promised to reach the capital by eleven.
To make walking easier, Baker plotted a route which avoided the
lowlands, particularly the valley of the Yellow River, in favor of a
slightly longer course through the mountains to the east. We started
northwest, splashing through the swamps and lakes around Hankow at
first, and presently reached firmer ground in the Hawiyang Shan. We
followed the ridge of these mountains for a time, and then dropped to
the hilly country of Honan Province. At first the night was very dark,
but presently the light of a waning moon made an occasional fix
possible, although navigation was confusing and uncertain at best.
We splashed across the Yellow River at ten o'clock, somewhere east of
Kaifeng, and for a time were greatly slowed by what appeared to be thick
gumbo.
Our speed improved once we got up into the rugged Taihang Mountains.
Here also we felt safer from air observation or attack, although Kazu
was soon panting from the exertion of crossing an endless succession of
fifteen to thirty foot ridges. This was indeed rough country, terrain
which had protected the lush plains of China for centuries against the
Mongols. Here the great wall had been built, and presently, in the
moonlight, we saw its trace, winding serpentlike over the mountains.
We followed the Wall for almost two hundred miles--all the way, in fact,
to the latitude of Peking--before we swung east again for the final lap
to Mao's capital.
* * * * *
During the last hour we trailed an antenna and listened in on the world
of radio. The news was not good. The Shanghai garrison had sprung a trap
on their disorganized attackers, and were marching on Nanking. Mao's
armies were closing the southern half of a great pincers on Wu's troops,
and only awaited the dawn to launch the final assault. Worst of all,
there had been reports of increasing Soviet air activity over the area;
a major air strike also apparently would come with daylight.
We were scarcely halfway from the edge of the city to the moated summer
palace when a small hell of gunfire broke out around Kazu's feet. He
jumped, with a roar of pain, and then lashed out with one foot, sweeping
away a whole city block and demolishing the ambush. Limping slightly, he
made the remaining distance by a less direct route and at last stood at
the moat before the palace. The ancient building, and, indeed,
everything about, was quite dark. Kazu peered about uncertainly, and
then raised our box to ask for advice. Baker was pessimistic.
"I don't think you'll find General Mao here. But at this stage of
things, I don't believe it would matter if you did. The decision will be
made tomorrow by the armies."
Kazu stepped carefully over the moat and wall, and sat down wearily in
the gardens of the summer palace. We peered with interest at the
foliage, marble bridges and the graceful buildings, illuminated only by
ghostly moonlight. With Kazu squatting among them, they looked like
models, a toy village out of ancient China. I wished that a picture
might be taken, for surely never before had Buddha been in so
appropriate a setting.
While Kazu rested, we examined his feet. A number of machine gun bullets
had entered his foot thick hide, and there was one wound a yard long
from which oozed a sticky gelatinous blood. There did not appear to be
any serious damage, although the chances of infection worried us. In any
event, there was nothing we could do except douse it with buckets of
water from the moat. Kazu thanked us formally, as befitted a deity, and
added, as though talking to himself,
"Now is the most difficult time. How can I bring peace without the use
of violence? I can appear before these armies and command them to stop.
But what if they do not obey? Should I use force? Oh, that I were really
the Great Lord Buddha--then I would have the wisdom, the knowledge that
is a thousand times more potent than giant size. Oh Buddha, grant me
wisdom, if only for a moment, that I may act rightly."
Presently the giant stretched out full length in the garden and, while
we kept guard, slept for a time.
The first pale glow of dawn appeared soon after five, and we were
preparing to awaken Kazu when Martin held up a warning hand. We
listened. At first we heard nothing, and then there came a deep drone of
jets. Not a single plane, not even a squadron. Nothing less than a great
fleet of heavy aircraft was approaching Peking from the west. Baker
fired his automatic repeatedly near Kazu's ear, and presently his rumbly
breathing changed and he opened his eyes.
"Planes," said Baker briefly. "It's not safe here. Better get moving."
Kazu sat up, yawning, and we climbed into the box. The giant took a long
draught from the nearest fishpond and tied our cage to his neck and
shoulder so that both of his hands would be free.
By this time the noise of the planes had increased to a roar, which
echoed through the silent city. Kazu arose to his full height and
waited. A pinkish line of light had now appeared along the eastern
horizon which, I realized with consternation, must silhouette the mighty
tower of Kazu's body to whomever was coming out of the western shadows.
* * * * *
And then we saw them. A great fleet of heavy bombers, flying
high, far beyond even Kazu's reach. Baker seized the glasses to look,
and then gave a cry of warning. The leading plane had dropped
something--a black spherical object above which blossomed a parachute. I
think that Kazu realized what it was as soon as we, but he still stood
quietly. Baker lost whatever calm he had left and screamed, "Run,
run--it's the H-bomb!" but still Kazu did not move. In a moment another
of the deadly spheres appeared, directly over us, and then a third. Now
at last Kazu moved, but not toward safety. He walked slowly until he was
directly beneath the first bomb, and reached up, until his hand was a
thousand feet in the air. Down came the bomb, quite rapidly, for the
parachute was not very large.
"What's the matter with the fool," yelled Martin. But now Baker seemed
to get Kazu's idea.
"It has barometric fusing--it's set to detonate at a certain altitude.
If that's below a thousand feet, and Kazu can catch it, it won't go
off!"
Martin started something about detonation at two thousand feet, when
Kazu gave a slight jump and his hand closed about the deadly thing, as
though he had caught a fly. We cowered, expecting the flash that would
mean the end, but nothing happened. In Kazu's crushing grip the firing
mechanism was reduced to wreckage before it could act. When Buddha
opened his palm, it contained only a wad of crumpled metal inside of
which was a now harmless sphere of plutonium.
In quick succession Kazu repeated this performance with the other two
bombs, wadded the whole together and flung it to the ground. Then he
turned to the north.
By the time we had cleared the city, it was quite light, and we could
see a dark pall of smoke in the northeast. The armies which had been
poised last night had finally met, and a great battle was underway. Kazu
hurried towards it, and presently we could hear the crackle of small
arms fire and the heavier explosions of mortars and rockets. It took a
moment or so for Kazu to get his bearings. Evidently we were approaching
Mao's legions from the rear. Still keeping from the roads to avoid
killing anyone, Kazu advanced to near the battle line, and there
stopped.
"My brothers," his voice thundered above the heaviest cannon, "my poor
brothers on both sides, listen to me. Stop this killing. Stop this
useless slaughter. No one can win, and all will--"
Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light, a thousand times brighter
than the newly appeared sun. It came from behind us, and in the terrible
instant that it remained we could see Buddha's enormous shadow
stretching out across the battlefield. Kazu stopped speaking and braced
his shoulders for the blast. Subconsciously I was counting seconds.
Four, five, six, seven--A sudden, insane hope gripped me. If we were far
enough from the burst--and then the blast hit us, and with it, the
sound. Kazu pitched forward a hundred yards, and stumbled on as far
again. Then he recovered. One hand reached behind him, to the back that
had taken the full brunt of heat and gamma radiation, and a half animal
cry escaped from his lips. Over his shoulder we got a glimpse of the
fireball, of the fountain of color which would presently form the
terrible mushroom cloud. The thunder of the explosion reverberated, and
was replaced by silence. The crackle of rifles, the thud of field pieces
had ceased. From our perch we looked down at a scene straight from
Dante's Inferno. About Kazu's feet was a shallow ravine in which a
thousand or so communist troops had taken cover. These were now
scrambling and clawing at the sides like ants trying to get away.
Vehicles were abandoned, rifles thrown away. A few had been burned, but
it seemed that for the most part the soldiers had been sheltered from
direct radiation by the wall of their canyon, and by Kazu's great
shadow.
For an eternity, it seemed, Kazu stood there, swaying slightly, one hand
still pressed against his back, while the little men writhed about his
ankles. Then, quite slowly, he raised one foot. I thought that he was
going to walk away, but instead, the foot moved deliberately until it
was directly over the ravine, and then, like a tremendous pile driver,
it descended. A faint and hideous screaming came up to us, which
abruptly ended. The foot came up, and again descended, turning back and
forth in the yielding earth. Slowly Kazu brought his hand up, and lifted
our box so that he could look at us. As he did so, I saw that half of
his hand was the color of charcoal, and I smelled a horrible odor of
tons of burnt flesh. Now at last he spoke, in a voice that we could
scarcely understand.
"Guide me," he said, "Guide me, Baker. Guide me to Moscow!"