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.”