Chapter II
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.”
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.
“Ballentine Beer Patches”
Worn by Marshall’s
workers in Chungking.
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.
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.
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.
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!”
Saturday inspection of Caves in Yenan. Last, on the extreme far end to the right, is the cave in which Marshall was installed.
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.
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.
Under Communism man still competes with the lowly donkey. Here several are seen carrying fire wood in Yenan.
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.
The Market Place in Yenan, run by non-Communists as in the days of their ancestors.
Child-mother with twins in improvised home-made tandem baby carriage.
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.