_Yenan Interlude_
Prior to October, 1949, the capital of Communist China was the two
thousand-year-old city of Yenan. After the capture of Peking, the
leaders established grandiose headquarters in that ancient seat of
emperors, known as “The Pearl of the Orient.” It was in the quaint
old city of Yenan, however, that the important incubation period
of these present rulers took place. Here they spent the war years,
planned their strategy to take over all of China, and cemented their
contacts with Moscow. From the cold, crude caves of this primitive
stronghold to the glittering palaces of Peking was a tremendous leap,
and doubtless it gave the conquering heroes many jolts. How often
they must have longed for that unique little city, remote and quiet,
in Shensi Province.
That those early carefree days on the edge of the Gobi Desert did
not altogether prepare them for their present responsibilities was
evidenced by the fact that after the Communists occupied Peking
the municipal government staff there was temporarily retained. The
new Communist mayor explained, “We have been living in the hills
(Yenan) and know far less about municipal government than you do.
Therefore we must learn from you.” Even Mao Tse-tung, whose word is
law all over China, has already been quoted as saying, “The task of
reconstruction is apt to be far more difficult than the achievement
of power.”
Shensi Province boasts one of the best climates in China, dry and
healthy, with many bright sunshiny days. However, it is frequently
visited by suffocating dust storms from the desert, giving the
inhabitants a yellow-powdered coating on the hair, face and
clothing. The farm lands which were owned formerly by a few of the
comparatively wealthy peasants were, in 1949, divided into little
holdings or made into cooperative farms. No all-out effort was made
to collectivize[1] the land, as in Russia.
The city of Yenan has a population of about fifty thousand, most of
whom live in caves burrowed into the clay cliffs of three converging
river valleys. Before the move to Peking, the schools and army
headquarters of the city were all underground, and only outside the
city were there many buildings of any size.
One of the most important landmarks was the International Hospital,
located on the edge of the city in a series of caves. It was called
“International” because it was supported in part by contributions
from abroad. The United States had made every effort to be helpful.
During the war, for the first time in its history, and largely
through the humanitarianism of the China Theater Commander,
Lieutenant General Wedemeyer, this hospital was one of the best
equipped, if not _the best_ equipped, in all of North China. When Mao
Tse-tung’s little five-year-old daughter fell ill with pneumonia,
penicillin was flown to her directly from General Wedemeyer’s
headquarters. Without it she would, almost certainly, have died.
The hospital was Madame Sun Yat-sen’s favorite project There she
spent many hours, allowing the patients and nurses to bask in the
radiance of her sacred person. This beguilling “Saint Elizabeth,”
after impassioned pleading, succeeded in 1945, in getting the United
States to expedite shipment of increased amounts of medical supplies
to the hospital from Communist sources. A small contingent of U. S.
soldiers was stationed in Yenan as a liaison between the Communists
and the Nationalists. These cartons and crates were opened, as a
matter of routine inspection by Colonel Ivan D. Yeaton, Communist
expert and one of the American military observers there. To his
great consternation, he found that, instead of the urgently needed
medical supplies, the crates and cartons were filled to bursting
with Communist propaganda books and leaflets. Going directly to
Madame Sun, he said, “Why, Madame, I am disappointed and astonished
to find that you have abused the courtesy extended to you by the
United States Government. I find that this last shipment, instead of
containing medical supplies, is filled with nothing but Communist
propaganda!” Madame Sun blushed prettily and replied with false calm:
“I am sure that you are not aware of the _many_ kinds of medicine our
patients need here.” It goes without saying that her supplies were
cut off, then and there.
Although Communists laid great stress on the good the hospital was
doing for _all_ Chinese, the conduct and methods of admissions
smacked of the General Hospital in Moscow. Patients were classified
in three categories: The Hierarchy of the Communist Party and their
families took precedence over all; next in line were the Red Army
officers and soldiers and their families; last, least and very rarely
came the non-Communist Chinese.
Another distinguished landmark located just outside the city was the
famous “Prisoner of War School.” Here the captured Japanese soldiers
were never referred to as “prisoners,” but always as “students,” and
their compound was referred to as “The School.”
Although, during the war, the Chinese Communist Armies made great
claims about their successes against the Japanese, their primary
purpose was to capture Japanese prisoners of war with the idea
of converting them to Communism. Those who showed promise of
becoming good subjects promptly were sent to Yenan, given courteous
treatment and enrolled in the Communist School under Moscow-trained
instructors. Students who showed little aptitude or whose loyalties
were questioned were weeded out rapidly and returned to their own
troops. This last proved to be a diabolical form of punishment, for
a Japanese soldier is taught never to surrender, but to fight to the
death. The mere fact that he had allowed himself to be captured and
was returned to his own troops in good condition was clear evidence
that he was either a coward or untrustworthy. His end was often the
guard house or a bullet in the back of his head.
Graduates of the school were dispatched as spies into Manchuria or
sent back to Japan, there to scatter the red seeds of Communism. This
was referred to as going to the “Front.” When one friend would say to
another, “I haven’t seen Yashi for four or five days. Where can he
be?” the reply invariably was, “Oh, he’s gone to the Front!” Thus the
Prisoner of War School helped to spread the red gospel throughout the
Japanese-speaking areas. Its guiding spirit and conductor was Okano,
now known as Sanzo Nozako, who aspired to be the Stalin of Japan, and
who is said to be working vigorously to bring all the Japanese into
the Communist orbit.
The Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party had appropriated
for special meetings one of the few well built halls just outside the
Walled City. On its bare walls were life-size, full length portraits
of Marx, Engels, Lenin, Stalin, Mao, and Chu Teh, together with a
large flag bearing the Hammer and Sickle. This hall also served as
Mao Tse-tung’s city residence. Only on the rarest occasions were
foreigners ever received here, and at such times the portraits and
flag were laboriously removed. Surrounding the hall were the best and
most productive of the local farms, which had been confiscated by the
Communist Hierarchy for their own use. Here they spent many weekends
relaxing and enjoying life.
The office where foreigners were habitually received was in a large
cave. It was decorated with life-size portraits of Stalin, Mao,
Chu Teh, Churchill, Roosevelt and Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek
placed over a grouping of small allied flags. The general atmosphere
appeared to be one of friendly cooperation based on mutual aims and
interests. When foreign visitors were present, the Chinese National
flag was displayed conspicuously over the gates of the compound, as
a token of good will, and to create the false impression that both
parties were working in harmony. On all other occasions, and in
all other places, it was considered extremely bad taste to mention
Nationalist China, Great Britain or the United States, especially
with references to any part they were taking in winning the war.
Anyone living in Yenan at that time became aware of the complete
absence of religious symbols. The ancient temples were occupied by
Communist families. Religion, as in other Communist countries, had
gone underground or disappeared. Even the tiny symbolic caves, so
revered by the Chinese as places of worship, were never used openly.
Instead, Americans often caught glimpses of Communist soldiers going
through their ritual when they thought themselves unobserved by
hostile eyes. Doubtless these little scenes reminded some of the
better informed GI’s of similar ones enacted in Moscow, where the old
peasant women braved the wrath of the NKVD and the Stalin Youth to
worship at the few churches that were allowed to remain open.
The Catholic missionaries, long distrusted by the Communists, had
been forced into a life of almost complete religious inactivity.
Their Compound, once a busy center, had become the home of the Lu
Hsun Art Academy. The old convent had been converted into dormitories
for students of both sexes. In the Chapel, Communists had torn down
the painting of Jesus, which was the first object seen on entering,
and had replaced it with a more than life-size portrait of Stalin.
The Holy Vessels and Sacred Images lay in rubble on the floor. Only
the organ was left. Here, the music students practiced American jazz
and sang “The Internationale.”
[Illustration: _Ancient Pagoda built hundreds of years ago, seen from
outskirts of Yenan. Caves at right are similar to those used to house
the Japanese Prisoners of War._]
[Illustration: _“Ballentine Beer Patches” Worn by Marshall’s workers
in Chungking._]
[Illustration: _The movie actress wife of Mao Tse-tung appears
pleased with the story she has just told General Marshall, while the
latter seems to wonder if he got the point._]
[Illustration: _Left to right: Ambassador Patrick J. Hurley, Chairman
Mao Tse-tung, General Chang, (Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek’s
propaganda chief), and General Chu Teh, shown after conference in
Yenan._]
[Illustration: _Mao has just proposed a welcoming toast to General
Marshall, and politely listens while others do likewise. The banquet
was held in Marshall’s honor._]
[Illustration: _Chinese Nationalist and American flags fly between
banner welcoming Marshall, Nationalist General Chang and Communist
Chou En-lai. Side banners say “Long Live Peace in the Far East!”_]
[Illustration: _Saturday inspection of Caves in Yenan. Last, on the
extreme far end to the right, is the cave in which Marshall was
installed._]
[Illustration: _Crowds greeting Marshall on his arrival in Yenan. At
extreme left can be seen the Ming Bing with their long spears. Note
American and Chinese Communist flag on jeep._]
[Illustration: _Left to right: Chairman Mao, Chou En-lai, Marshall,
General Chang (Nationalist), and Chu Teh. On the right are picked
troops of the Communist Military Academy._]
[Illustration: _Under Communism man still competes with the lowly
donkey. Here several are seen carrying fire wood in Yenan._]
[Illustration: _A camel caravan arriving at Yenan from the Gobi
Desert after passing through the Great Wall. The lead camel wears a
mask to frighten away evil spirits. (In photo below)—Oxen laden with
bundles and wares to be sold in the Yenan markets._]
[Illustration: _The Market Place in Yenan, run by non-Communists as
in the days of their ancestors._]
[Illustration: _Child-mother with twins in improvised home-made
tandem baby carriage._]
[Illustration: _Caves of the Communists and Red Army seen in the
distance, sheep grazing beneath them. Small house in foreground
was used for storage of food._]
Protestants suffered equal indignities. From outlying districts came
reports of religious oppression and sometimes of atrocities. American
missionaries, both by word and letter, told of the destruction not
only of churches but of agricultural and hospital activities which
had operated for many years to help _all_ Chinese, Communist and
Nationalist alike.
The population of Yenan was for the most part non-Communist. The
distinction was not difficult to note for the Communists were easily
recognized by their dull blue cloth uniforms, their bobbed haired
women wearing no make-up, and their complete lack of Chinese silks
and gay colors. The non-Communist majority were allowed to continue
their usual occupations undisturbed, as long as they minded their
own affairs. Nearly all the merchants within the Walled City were
non-Communist, and all gathered daily in the big market, as they had
done for generations, to display their wares in the open, on boards
or on the ground. When the Communists wanted anything, they forced
the merchants to cooperate by handing over a desired commodity, and
at the Communists’ own price.
Due to the Chinese and Mongolian background of most of the Communist
leaders, many of them did not, at first, wish their women to play any
political roles or to appear at public banquets with the men. With
the growing acceptance of the Russian doctrines, however, all were
considered equal, and the women worked and ate beside the men. The
female Communists tried to look as unlike the old fashioned Chinese
women as possible. Their adopted cause had emancipated them, if
emancipation meant compelling them to work as hard as the men. In
Russia, after the Revolution, the women, dressed as men, were allowed
to load and unload trucks, which the men drove. The rules for the
masses, however, did not apply to the wives of the leaders. They were
encouraged to mix freely, to wear better clothes, and to indulge
in light make-up occasionally. Moreover, it is said that they all
ate quantities of sunflower seeds in order to obtain the fine, firm
breasts for which many a Soviet woman is famous!
Tipping was not allowed in the Red realm, for it indicated class
distinction. As all classes were supposed to be equal under
Communism, any breach of this regulation was severely punished. In
Yenan, an American GI tried to express his gratitude to a young
Communist for helping him make some furniture for his cave by
offering him a package of American cigarettes. The Chinese boy
frowned and backed away. “No, thank you,” he said, “I cannot accept
anything for my services. We are all equal now.” The American
shrugged slightly and put the cigarettes on a table. A few minutes
later, when his back was turned, the Chinese boy _and_ the cigarettes
had disappeared. The following day the American soldier found the
Communist youth smoking furiously behind a pile of rubbish. He
learned later that the boy had been spied upon by other Communist
youths who, out of envy or an excess of Party zeal, had beaten
him unmercifully. After generations of accepting the traditional
“cumshaw,” or little token of appreciation, it is well nigh
impossible to convince a Chinese, Communist or otherwise, that this
time-honored custom is wrong.
During the war, all American troops stationed in Yenan lived in caves
on the level nearest the ground. This made for greater convenience
in getting in and out, in line with the wish of the Chinese
Communists to show the foreigner every courtesy. The Americans had
one small house built primarily to shelter the electric generator
they had brought with them, and here also lived the Commander of
the Americans. The generator made it possible for the Americans to
have the only electric light in Yenan. In contrast, the natives and
families of the Red Armies burned wicks in precious oil or built
small fires for occasional light. Their rule was to bed down with the
sun and to arise with the dawn.
One other building allocated to the Americans was used as a
recreation room, where the GI’s and a highly selected group of
Chinese Communists played games and had their meals in common. This
group of Communists assigned to fraternize with the Americans was
headed by a fellow named Lock Ho, meaning “Old Horse,” whose job was
to start arguments and to guide the Americans in their thinking. The
GI’s were never allowed to fraternize with any Chinese who was not
thoroughly indoctrinated, even at the Saturday night dances. Nurses
from the International Hospital, students from Yenan University,
girls and women from the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist
Party, other students, teachers and members of families of the
Communists, all were completely propagandized before being permitted,
or ordered, to attend the dances. In other words, the Americans
never came in contact with any Chinese who was not fully imbued with
the tenets of Communism. Be it said to the credit of the Americans,
the Reds, despite their efforts, were never able to work on the GI’s
with any degree of success.
On hunting trips, a propaganda expert went along with the Americans,
but even this could not spoil the superb sport and the pleasure that
came from shooting an occasional wolf, mountain lion or tiger. The
pheasant coveys were numerous and the birds huge, making them much
sought-after additions to the monotonous diet. A man who was a good
shot, even with an old carbine, would bring down five to ten cocks
in a day. There were no bird dogs, but when Chu Teh, a fine shot
himself, and a tireless hunter, accompanied the group, he had his
bodyguard act as a retriever, a service the American “Imperialists”
did not have.
The jeeps and trucks of the United States Army were a source of
wonder and terror to the natives, who were entirely unfamiliar with
any motor transportation. In this connection, pregnant women proved a
special headache to the GI’s. When the donkeys or Mongol ponies, on
which the pregnant ladies were riding, shied away or stood on their
hind legs at the approach of a vehicle, the ladies naturally fell off
their mounts screaming and yelling in their high, piercing voices as
they rolled into the dust or a ditch, their bundles and belongings
flying helter skelter in all directions. Even when the Americans
drove slowly or stopped, the havoc wrought was considerable. Many of
the pregnant riders were indignant and demanded “cumshaw,” or money,
to compensate for damages to their person and pride, but fortunately
there were never any serious accidents.
Many things puzzled American soldiers in Yenan. One was how a Chinese
herdsman, driving dozens of sheep and pigs, could meet and pass,
on a narrow mountain path, another herdsman equally encumbered.
Amid ear-splitting squeals, grunts and Chinese swear words, men and
animals would pass each other without loss or mishap, each going in
his own direction, with his own animals intact! Surely no American
could accomplish such a feat.
The GI’s had constant trouble with money. The Communists manipulated
the exchange any way they wished, but always in their own favor.
Nobody knew exactly how much money he was worth at any one time.
Eager to procure all the American dollars and Nationalist currency
possible to finance trips to the South for their agents, the
Communists put up their special script in small packages to entice
the Americans to purchase them for one United States dollar. They
were counting heavily on the GI’s never-failing interest in a
“souvenir to take home.”
Every foreigner, on entering Yenan, was thoroughly briefed by the
Commander of the American Observer Group, who boarded incoming
planes. This presented a clear indication of Moscow influence. All
entrants were told never to use the word “coolie,” as it signified
class consciousness. They were not to mention the words “Reds” or
“Commies,” as these terms cast aspersions upon the dignity of their
hosts. All, Communists and non-Communists must be referred to as
“local people.”
American movies were shown almost nightly out of doors in summer.
These were so superior to the Chinese or Russian movies that the
enthusiastic natives would pull down the gates of the Compound if any
effort was made to keep them out. In the winter, however, the movies
were shown indoors, and only guests invited by the Chinese Communists
were allowed to attend. Chu Teh was on hand almost nightly and was a
particular fan of Betty Hutton’s. He returned eight times to drink in
her charms as the heroine of the picture “Texas Guinan.”
The only other movies were those supplied by the Chinese Communists.
Crude and boring, they were largely sent from the Kremlin, and were
in Russian with no Chinese sub-titles. A leader, in a sing-song
voice, gave the general idea of the picture, particularly stressing
the propaganda line it illustrated. The audience, not understanding
Russian, could hope for only slight amusement.
Even the Hierarchy gave every evidence of preferring American films.
The lavish background in the Guinan picture made a particularly deep
impression, as it was such a far cry from the way even the most
important Chinese and Red Army officers and their families lived. In
the upper tiers of mud caves, dug into the soft cliffs, they existed
as primitively as had their ancestors thousands of years before them.
Little or no furniture cluttered the Reds’ caves, and almost all
their utensils were wooden bowls and horn cups. After the Americans
and the British came, the local people salvaged the tin cans thrown
out by the visitors and had them beaten into plates and dishes,
copied faithfully from the originals by the blacksmith. Unused to
comfort, their beds were skins thrown on boards or spread on the mud
floors—a sharp contrast to the luxury of the sleeping arrangement
built for Ambassador Hurley when he was in Yenan. This crude approach
to a truly beautiful Chinese bed was seven feet long, with rope slats
for a spring, rough unbleached sheets, and a pillow filled with
bird seed, or millet. It later became the property of the American
Military Commander and was always greatly admired and coveted by the
Chinese visitors.
During these years, although life in Yenan was primitive and often
carefree, the Hierarchy never lost sight of the responsibilities that
lay ahead of them, and for these they tried to prepare themselves,
within the limits of their knowledge and capabilities. In 1946,
contrary to all Chinese Communist teachings, several American
soldiers were questioned extensively by the Communist leaders on
matters of capitalist etiquette and protocol. The Americans, amused
at their roles of male Emily Posts, accepted the challenge in the
finest American tradition. With grave faces and dressed in their
best, they gave cocktail parties, movie suppers, and even formal
sit-down dinners for the education of the distinguished members of
the Central Committee of the Communist Party. Table manners and light
conversation were stressed. The pupils were most appreciative of
these examples of Western culture and refinement and strove in every
way to learn their lessons and to act accordingly.
Hugely enjoying this fascinating taste of the foreign, they put
together a so-called Jazz Band and held Saturday night dances that
were entirely Western in every respect, even to a crude rendition of
“_The Saint Louis Blues_.” Eager to have everything done in proper
Western style, the Red leaders provided their teachers with a list
of Central Committee Communist Party Members, arranged according
to rank, and insisted that the best State Department protocol be
observed and practiced rigidly. They were shrewd enough to realize,
even then, that in conquering new countries, they would have to have
more than one front man. At that time, Chou En-lai was their only
polished negotiator. He alone was able to meet foreigners on an equal
footing and was therefore obliged to be their Minister of Foreign
Affairs.
The Communists in Yenan, as in all countries in the beginning of
their transition to slavery, adopted the term “New Democracy”
and made a great display of its outward form by allowing the
non-Communist peasants to “vote.” The outcome, of course, was
previously agreed upon. The balloting was merely a matter of form and
a means of convincing the people that they still were privileged to
make their own choice. The literate cast their vote by burning a hole
in the ballot with a lighted stick of punk, or incense, at the point
where the name of their candidate appeared. The illiterate dropped
a pea into a bowl or pitcher, placed in front of a picture of their
candidate. After the voting was over and the successful candidate
announced, a huge rally was held and the voter was constrained to
forget his choice, if unsuccessful, in a frenzy of dancing, shouting
and singing. After a few hours of this, the tired voter would wend
his way slowly homeward to his mud cave, or if he were a country man,
to his ancestral mud hut, often many miles away.
The roads that lead into the Walled City of Yenan are
two-thousand-year-old trails used by the descendants, both man and
beast, of those earliest travellers. Both inside and out of the city,
little has changed. The men driving the camel caravans pad softly
through the dust, their animals heavily laden with burdens of fur
and other wares to be marketed in the city. They still practice the
age-old custom of putting a mask on the lead animal’s head, to drive
away the evil spirits. Water carriers, after dragging great buckets
of the muddy liquid from the river, chant their endless “water!
water!” as they go from cave to cave in the time-honored manner.
Food vendors, squatting in the dusty lanes cooking bits of lamb and
pork, roots and herbs over tiny charcoal braziers, cry out shrilly
to the passers-by, eating occasionally from the pot with their grimy
fingers. Half-naked babies crawl nearby, whimpering to their mothers,
who pacify them by giving them sweetened tree bark on which to chew.
Donkeys, heavily laden, and round Mongolian ponies jostle dog carts
and belabored oxen. Everywhere, cotton clad coolies, bowed beneath
huge bales of firewood, coal and charcoal, shuffle along the dusty
streets. For, alas, although the rickshaw and pedicab or bicycle
rickshaw has been banned as an occupation beneath the dignity of man,
the older use of man as a beast of burden has to be accepted. For
the very poor, there is nothing else to take his place.
This, then, was Yenan in 1946. Now that the Communists have won China
and moved from the mud caves to the glamorous palaces of Peking, it
will be interesting to watch their actions.
Will they be able to carry out their plan of communizing the entire
country? And how long will this take? Will China remain China for
the Chinese or, for the first time in nearly five thousand years,
will the once free peoples of this basically democratic country be
hopelessly enthralled by the yoke of tyranny?
The Chinese have a quality that has distinguished them. This quality
is patience. The Communists too have patience, but only up to a
point. Beyond that they use force to accomplish their ends.
There are literally hundreds of languages spoken in China—each
province speaks a different dialect. Moreover, aside from travel
between major cities, there is relatively little transportation and
practically no communication between smaller cities in the interior.
In view of these facts, is it not possible that the Russians will
find their progress slow?
Will the Chinese absorb the Soviets as they did the Huns, the Mongols
and the Tartars? Time alone will give us the answers to these
questions. Time alone will prove the importance of the incubation
period spent in Yenan, and whether or not it was worth the sacrifices
made by the Reds. The die is cast. From it we shall learn what the
future holds for Asia, for Europe, and perhaps for ourselves as well.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Collectivize means controlled farming, where the peasants are
only hired hands.