Marshall must have been impressed!
For quarters, or hotel accommodations, the General had been assigned the best Yenan cave, boasting all the comforts offered by that archaic type of dwelling. His person was safeguarded during the night by two crack soldiers armed with ancient Chinese broadswords.
Making the most of their distinguished visitor’s sojourn among them, Chairman Mao Tse-tung gave a banquet, followed by a Chinese Opera. The dinner was staged in a large bare room with cracking plaster walls. The table consisted of rough hewn boards, contrasting strangely with the lavishness of the food. Dozens of southern style delicacies were imported for the occasion: crisp, roasted Peking duck; succulent sweet and sour pork; thousand-year-old eggs—the whole washed down with copious draughts of sweet local wine. Formal speeches of mutual friendship were followed by cries of “Gambei!” or “Bottoms up!”
After the banquet, the entire party crossed the river to attend the Opera. The Communists had improvised a crude bridge over which their esteemed guest might ride, but it was so wobbly that Marshall preferred to get out and follow his car across.
The Opera was performed in an unheated, barnlike structure. It was so cold that the audience kept on their heavy coats and were provided, in addition, with blankets to wrap around their feet. In spite of the fact that charcoal braziers were placed between the stage and the first row, the temperature in the building was close to freezing, and the breath of the actors as they chanted their lines came out in puffs of smoke. These performers were Spartans indeed, changing their costumes in the draughty, unheated barn, their teeth chattering and their tawny flesh a mass of goose pimples. The costumes, in contrast to those seen on a Peking or a Shanghai stage, were fashioned of rough, drab bits of cast-off apparel, crudely sewn together and patched with whatever pieces of material could be begged, borrowed or stolen.
The show itself, like the Ballet in Moscow, was a superb exhibition of Chinese art, for, when shown to foreigners, it was free from Communist propaganda. The falsetto voices of the actors sing-songed the ancient Chinese poetry, while their bodies swayed to its rhythmic cadence. During the performance, an usher went up and down the aisle tossing hot towels to guests who called shrilly for them. These, wrung out of boiling water, gave the hall a dank, slightly rancid atmosphere, reminiscent of a river in summer. Roasted watermelon seeds were pressed generously upon the honored guest by his Chinese Communist hosts, who were noisily but skillfully cracking them edgewise between their strong front teeth and spitting out the husks.
Not all the visitor’s stay, however, was passed in entertainment. Before leaving Yenan, General Marshall sat behind locked doors with Mao and members of the Politburo. No other American was allowed to be present at this meeting. What was said is not known, but there were rumors in Communist circles that the subject of the conversations had to do with the future of Manchuria, and perhaps all of Asia.
On leaving this capital city of Communist China, Marshall returned to the United States to make his report to President Truman.
When he came back to China, Marshall made his residence in Nanking (the Nationalist capital at that time), but established a Northern Headquarters in Peiping (meaning Northern Peace), in order to work out a truce between Communists and Nationalists. The futility of this endeavor was obvious even to the Chinese GI, who nicknamed the Peiping Headquarters the “Temple of the Thousand Sleeping Colonels,” and to the American GI, who dubbed it “Marshall’s Bird Sanctuary.”
If the soldiers in the lower brackets put their tongues in their cheeks, those in the higher echelons took the mission very seriously. They kept a very sober face, indeed. Shoulder patches were issued and worn by all the members of the Peiping Headquarters and its truce teams. These were called “Ballentine Beer Patches,” due to the three rings in the emblem representing the Nationalists, the Communists and the Americans. No doubt this symbol, to some of the homesick GI’s, was a nostalgic reminder of the good old USA.