_Behind the Red Curtain_
Immediately after the Communists gained control of China and occupied
it from North to South, Russian technicians and advisors poured into
the country. Everyone was asking: “What are the Russians doing in
China?”
From a few foreigners and Chinese, who had made an early escape from
behind the Red Curtain, and from letters later smuggled out of the
country, came the revealing truth. Some of the informants had lived
under the Communist yoke for as long as eight and nine months, and
among these was a United Press correspondent, Chang Kuo Sin.
“The Russians,” he said “began at once to fit China into the
political-military bloc of Soviet dominated States which, by the
end of 1949, extended from the Danube River to the Pacific Ocean.
Their organization was beyond anything China had ever seen, and it
certainly proved that they had been planning it for a long time.
I was frankly shocked by the influence they seemed to have on the
Chinese, from the very beginning.
“The ‘Big Noses,’ as the Chinese called the Russians,” he continued,
“took over as fast as they could. They tried to make a good
impression on the Chinese by moving right in with them. They ate
Chinese food and fumbled with chopsticks, and even wore Chinese
Communist uniforms made for them in Russia. They had already learned
to speak Chinese and to write a certain number of characters before
they arrived. Also, they had been taught some of the old Chinese
customs, such as raising the rice bowl as a gesture of friendly
greeting.
“The Russians brought in about seventy railroad engineers to
supervise the rebuilding of the railroads and bridges damaged by the
war. They were especially interested in everything military and sent
movie units around to make films of Chinese strategic areas. A friend
of mine, who saw them taking pictures, told me that Chinese officers,
who had been trained in Russia, were showing them all of the defenses
of the country.”
The original plan, in 1950, was to attack Formosa before the typhoon
season began in June. The Russians knew then what the world knows now
from the 1951 release of Dean Acheson’s diplomatic report of December
23, 1949, that we had written off Formosa as of no importance to
our Pacific defenses. Acheson tried, in vain, to involve Lieutenant
General Wedemeyer in this act of treachery. Acheson testified,
June 1, 1951, that the State Department prepared the report after
Wedemeyer, then Assistant Chief of Staff, suggested to the State
Department that it use the _Voice of America_ to “minimize” any
damage that might result from the fall of Formosa. But we know
from the complete _Wedemeyer Report_ that the General advocated
unequivocal defense of Formosa as being of definite strategic
importance in our chain of defenses in the Pacific. MacArthur and
Wedemeyer both had warned that the fall of Formosa would leave Japan,
Okinawa and the Philippines outflanked. The following is an account
of how the enemy planned to take Formosa with an offensive beginning
June, 1950.
Chang Kuo Sin reported: “We are given to understand that the island
will be taken by the biggest land, sea and air force that has yet
been launched against any place within the Russian orbit. They
will muster hundreds of fighting planes and thirty warships, plus
thousands of troops for this invasion. The warships, of course,
include many that went over to the Communists from the Nationalist
forces.”
The Chinese correspondent was not the only one who watched with
alarm the preparations for the invasion of Formosa. From every side
came evidence of the size and strength of the forces assembling
for the attack. The British, after recognition of the Communist
Government, and in order to protect their investments, were forced
into the distasteful position of giving them, by court order, ninety
airplanes. Worth twenty million dollars, these planes belonged to
the airline companies owned by the picturesque American flyer Claire
L. Chennault, whose famous “Flying Tiger” raids on the Japanese
added brilliant pages to American military history. This high-handed
transfer of American-made planes, probably the best in the world
outside those in use by the U. S. Air Force, to the Communists by
the British was cause for alarm in official circles. The planes will
undoubtedly wind up under the direct control of the Kremlin, whether
or not they are used for the initial air assault on Formosa.
The ground forces were nominally to be under the command of the Mayor
of Shanghai, who was said to have marshalled a picked force of one
hundred and eighty thousand troops for the invasion. Their training
in beach landings and personal combat was supervised by the Russians,
and many of their special weapons are said to have been of Soviet
make. The Mayor, a pawn of the Russians, was content to leave the
military strategy entirely in the hands of his more than helpful
allies.
Russian engineers were busy at every port from which the invasion
might be launched. After forcing those already on the job to resign,
they hired shipbuilders and began work on the dockyards, repairing
the damage caused by Nationalist bombings. They assembled ships of
different sizes and made them ready for invasion day. So we see that
the Russians were well occupied in Shanghai.
The fact that American troops were withdrawn by the State Department
from occupation in South Korea a few months earlier, left that
country a more logical target of opportunity to begin their
aggressive action. This explains why the Formosa attack was not made
as originally scheduled in 1950.
In Canton the Russians were busy moving complete factories to
Siberia, just as they had done earlier in Manchuria. This, they
said, was to save them from Nationalist bombs. The real reason was
that they needed them to build up Siberia industrially. Most of
the Southern factories produced cement, cotton cloth or chemicals,
vitally needed to support the large Siberian populace. It mattered
little to the Russians that China needed these same commodities
for herself. When workers complained that they could not live
without their jobs, the Communist bosses said: “Well, then, come
along with your plant and bring your family.” When the workers,
usually encumbered with large families, would ask hopefully about
transportation, they would always receive the same reply: “Can’t you
walk? We did on the ‘Long March.’ You can, too.”
The Chinese are always desperately in need of doctors, and the
Communists, right after taking over the country, allowed the
physicians to go about their business unmolested, provided they did
not discuss politics. So great was the demand for medical services
that outrageous fees were charged. The Communists permitted this
situation to continue, as it kept the doctors happy. With a flood
raging in China and plague beginning to show itself, doctors were a
priceless commodity. Even Russian doctors and scientists were brought
in and added to the Ministry of Health in China.
Although the flood of 1950 was the worst one in years, it did not
stop the Russians from sending food out of the country and into
Siberia. The Chinese granaries were empty, and everyone was hungry.
In Shanghai alone there were reported at least a hundred and twenty
thousand foodless and homeless refugees, and no agency was able to do
anything for them. It became dangerous for the average citizen, poor
though he might be, to go out in the streets at night. Every morning
a number of dead bodies were found piled up against the walls of
buildings.
Mao Tse-tung, his slogans still promising “Abundance for All,”
ordered a part of the army to work on the cooperative farms and
offered handsome rewards for boosting food production. In Peking
the worried Chinese Communists admitted that there were some nine
million people dead or dying in those areas, but that they were
unable to halt the shipments out of the country. Starving beggars in
filthy rags, a not unusual sight in China during the famine and flood
seasons, died by the score on the streets of Nanking and Shanghai,
where they had come with the faint hope of finding work. These
were the stronger ones; the weaker were never able to leave their
villages, or else they fell along the way.
“Food is the one vital concern here,” said a letter from Peking. “Any
kind of food. Even if you have money there is very little to buy, and
everybody is poor down to the bone. We are thoroughly sick of the
whole situation, but what can we do? Our friends are sent to jail if
they complain about anything, sometimes even if they voice an opinion
about the Communists that is not flattering.
“The beautiful lawns and gardens in the public parks and surrounding
the homes of wealthy families have been plowed up and planted with
vegetables. When this is not done within a reasonable length of time,
soldiers enter, armed with guns, and ask politely: ‘You would like
to have your gardens Produce for the People, would you not?’ In any
case, the owner is lucky if he is permitted to keep a small share
of what he is able to raise. After the gardens are taken over, it
is a matter of the Camel in the Arab’s tent. Next, the valuables
in the house are removed, to be sent out of the country in return
for dollars and pounds. Then the troops or Party officers quarter
themselves comfortably in the house, and if there is the slightest
difficulty, the owners are forced out.”
Another letter said, “It is considered very bad taste, if not
dangerous, to appear well off, and when I go to market I wear my
oldest clothes to avoid being conspicuous. Only the Communist
Hierarchy go about dressed in furs and finery, and they never go out
except in shiny limousines.”
Adding to the difficulty of obtaining food and other necessities,
Communists, for propaganda reasons, had put the pedicabs and
rickshaws off some of the streets in the larger cities. The price of
gasoline went up so high that no one could use his car, even if he
still had one. Thus transportation became another severe problem.
Only a few crowded, rickety busses still operated, and these were
almost impossible to board. They were so packed that people clung
tightly to each other at the doors, somewhat reminiscent of rush-hour
in the New York subway. Those not able to get on the vehicles
dog-trotted along behind. The busses never ran on any schedule, and
the driver, if given a large enough bribe, would even change the
route at a moment’s notice.
From a Chinese refugee now living in San Francisco, I learned that
Peking families, as well as others in the Northern area, were sending
their children out of the country on the pretext of aiding their
fathers in business. “We try to make the Communists feel that we are
cooperating with them wholeheartedly. Then, when we are sure that we
have their confidence and that it is safe, we ask them if we may
send our son or daughter to Hong Kong for business reasons or, better
still, on work for the Party. If they are lucky enough to get away,
they may have to stay in Hong Kong three or four months before they
can book passage on a ship. When we hear, via the grapevine, that
they are safe on board, we do not care what becomes of us.”
A tragic letter from a former military attaché in Washington during
the war told of the fall of Shanghai and the stampede of hundreds of
people trying to get away from the Communists. “The conquerors closed
the gates of the city during most of the day and night to prevent
crowds from trying to reach the railway stations or river banks and
wharves. Steamships anchored in mid-stream to protect themselves from
the mobs that tried to board them. Had everyone been successful in
the attempt, the ships would have capsized. It was necessary to go
out in small sampans and junks. Ropes with knots tied at intervals,
to which people could cling, were thrown over the sides of the ships.
I saw one father fasten a rope to his three children, and then the
family tried to scale the ship’s side. Suddenly, when they were all
about half-way up, the child at the top slipped or let go, pushing
the other children with him as he fell. The parents screamed wildly
and jumped into the churning, muddy water after them. Their cries
were heart rending.”
In talking to Americans and Chinese who have returned to the United
States, I caught many interesting and authoritative glimpses of life
behind the Red Curtain. For instance, as with Stalin in Moscow, no
one in China seemed to know where in Peking Chairman Mao lived. Some
said he had taken over the Wagon Lits Hotel, others that he had a
place in the country. Some said he appeared on the streets rarely,
although he was seen at official gatherings now and then. At one
such affair, Mao displayed a batch of letters, supposed to have been
received from non-Communists, telling how pleased they were at the
way the Communists had taken over and how courteous they had been.
The tone of all these letters was flattering and to the effect that
the non-Communists were impressed with their new masters. What Mao
did not know, or did not mention, of course, was that the letters had
been written and signed under duress and that, later, the writers had
pleaded with friends going out of the country to tell those to whom
the letters were addressed that nothing could be further from the
truth.
The Communists strictly censored all mail coming into China,
especially from the United States. Many letters were confiscated when
they contained names and information about people the Reds wished to
add to their files, and almost always when there was money in them.
Mao and Chou En-lai were said to be on very good terms with a number
of Russian advisors. All called each other by their first names. The
Chinese also were copying Russian ways with surprising alacrity. I
learned that one of the most popular of the adopted Moscow customs
was wife-swapping, or free love. In the New Democracy marriage was
performed and terminated merely by mutual consent, Russian style.
There was no exchange of vows when mating was done for the Cause,
no priest or magistrate to pronounce the pair man and wife or to
separate them later. Mrs. Chou En-lai told me very frankly in 1946
that she had never been legally married to her well-known husband.
“The New Democracy did away with all that,” she said. “We did away
with ceremonies. They are foolish and we don’t need them. Such things
are for you Imperialists!”
Such laxity in marital affairs has long been the accepted custom in
Russia, and indeed the Russian official often finds himself going
even further, sometimes involuntarily. A Soviet army officer arriving
at the Shanghai Airport not long ago looked around for his wife. She
was nowhere in sight. A good looking blonde walked up to him and
asked, “Are you Colonel Kovicov?” “I am,” he replied, a little taken
aback. He had never seen her before and felt a faint chill when she
said, “I am your wife now, on Party orders.” He knew then that he was
under suspicion.
Another high official in Russia returned home from an arduous day in
the Politburo and found that his “wife” had been replaced by a new
and not so pretty one. “Who are you?” he asked rather sadly, and she
replied, “You know who I am. I am the wife assigned to go with you to
China.” It developed that this woman spoke Chinese fluently, a talent
not possessed by the deposed mate. One may also infer that she was
more adept at spying.
Furs, silks, cosmetics and some jewelry were said to have been
brought into China at times by the Russians as rewards for faithful
service, and many a smart Party woman already had a neat nest egg
laid away in clothes and other commodities, such as the Communist
“unmentionable” one, money.
Americans who admire China and the Chinese will be disheartened by
a letter written by a retired colonel in the United States Army and
an old China hand. “The campaign of hatred stirred up against the
United States is impossible to realize unless you are right here on
the spot,” he wrote. “We are constantly branded as the worst enemies
China ever had. All the people who spent their lives here working
for China and the Chinese are called spies or tools of Imperialism.
At first they were polite and assured us that we could do business
as usual. Later we felt that we were being eased out, and finally we
were kicked out. We are all suspected of being agents of the American
Government and can never go out on the street without being jostled,
jeered at and spat upon. Many of us in Shanghai have been beaten,
jailed and fined huge sums before being released. Two men I know have
been taken out of their houses at night and beaten up. I don’t know
how much longer we will be able to stay here, but you can expect us
as soon as we can get away. I have plenty to tell when I do get home!
It is difficult to leave, as everyone has to have a Chinese vouch
for his good behavior before he can go. This Chinese friend actually
becomes a hostage, and any criticism of the Communist Government on
the part of the American may endanger his life.”
A correspondent in Shanghai was one of the Americans who was sure
that it would be possible to “do business” with the Communists. He
wrote a letter to the effect that “things really are not going to
be as bad as people are inclined to believe. They have assured me
that my office will not be molested and that they are very anxious
to do business with the foreigners.” A few days after the Reds took
Shanghai, they locked him up in that same office and confiscated his
business. He was allowed to return to the States, but, like everyone
else, had to leave his Chinese hostage behind him. When his American
ship stopped at Hong Kong, he talked to the press. A few days later,
when his ship was in mid-ocean, he received a radio message saying
in effect: “Make no statements about China. Authorities holding me
responsible.”
American missionaries fared no better than the businessmen. Many
churches were sealed officially as they were considered “private
organizations” which, under Communism, cannot exist. Christian
pastors of all faiths were made to register with the police and were
questioned for hours as to their attitudes toward the Russians and
the Chinese Communists. They were told plainly that although the
Communists “guaranteed” them freedom of religious _belief_—that is, a
man could believe anything he wished if he did not talk about it—they
intended to eliminate all freedom of religious _action_—that is, no
gathering together for the purpose of worship would be tolerated. And
this was in late 1948 and early 1949!
So much for the Americans. How did the British fare after recognizing
the Communist Government? Once feared and respected throughout the
Orient and now huddled together on their little island of Hong Kong,
they were forced to eat humble pie from the hands of the Communists
sitting on the front steps of their one-time imperial domain. At
stake was their one billion, two hundred million dollar investment,
the key to what was left of their Empire in the Far East.
A correspondent from Hong Kong wrote, “The city is packed with
refugees, Chinese, British and Americans. It is terribly expensive.
As much as three thousand Hong Kong dollars down payment is required
before you can rent a room, and everything else is sky high. It is
dreadfully hot, there are few parks or out-of-door places to sit,
and almost nowhere to eat. The Communists are everywhere. They have
closed most of the bookstores except those run by the Communists,
and these carry nothing, of course, except books and magazines about
Communism. Even the British bookstores are forced to carry Party
literature. It was impossible to get a doctor when my wife was sick,
as the Communists will not issue licenses to practice to any but
British doctors, and they are so busy with the care of both Chinese
and foreigners that they are worn out. With such overcrowding, many
are sick, as you can imagine. I wish I could send my family home, but
it is impossible. It takes many weeks or months to get reservations.
We are just trapped!”
Thus the Lion’s mighty roar, that once thundered throughout the
world, was reduced to a whimpering sniffle. Everywhere the British,
especially in the foreign office in London, were embarrassed at
the turn of events. Dr. Cheng Tien-shi, the Chinese Nationalist
Government’s ambassador to Great Britain, was called in and told
that England had recognized the Chinese Communist Government and that
his office must be vacated. With Confucian calm the elderly Chinese
gentleman faced the youthful Minister of State, Hector McNeil.
The latter fingered his tie, cleared his throat and, shifting his
feet uneasily, read the announcement in a strained voice. Sitting
down with McNeil, Cheng recalled the days when it was fashionable
to praise Chiang Kai-shek for his magnificent stand against the
Japanese. He quoted Mark Anthony’s speech over the dead body of
Caesar:
“_But yesterday the word of Caesar might
Have stood against the world. Now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence._”
Several times McNeil referred deferentially to Cheng, who is one of
the greatest living Chinese philosophers, as “Mr. Ambassador.” At
length, the gentle old man asked politely, “How can you still call
me ‘Mr. Ambassador?’” McNeil replied, “Once an Ambassador, always an
Ambassador.” The Chinese scholar hesitated a moment and then said,
“In my country, we have a similar saying, ‘Once a friend, always a
friend.’ Homage to force and violence is a dangerous thing. If you
worship Caesar, you will die by Caesar. Why must you bury us while we
are still very much alive? One day you will need us again.”