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山西平定西鎖簧村李若瑗回憶錄

[Introduction][1][2][3][4][5][6][Addendum][Chronology]

Memories of a Troubled Era   

by Lee Ruoyuan

(3)

Before I fled Tiayuan (provincial capital of my home province Shanxi), Japanese air raids would drive me up the East Hills to seek shelter. The sky was blue; there was not an eerie atmosphere typical of a savage battlefield, nor any premonition of pending disaster. Then the massive indiscriminate Japanese bombing of the civilians started and lasted for days and nights. This wanton bombing of commercial and residential districts was done in order to wreak havoc on the cities with important military, political and economic significance. Several friends and I ensconced ourselves in a hollow near the top of the hill, from where we commanded a bird's eye view of the city below. The raids were preceded by electric sirens across the city, followed by the steam whistles of the factories. Then an eerie silence fell over a quasi-deserted city moments before a faint rumbling of planes became louder every minute, striking terror in people's hearts. As the Japanese military aircraft swooped in over the city, the cannons and machine guns opened fire from the ground. The city did not have anti-aircraft artillery pieces at the time so that the Japanese aircraft were well outside their firing range and were able to ravage the city with impunity. After the terrible racket of the bombing runs and the ground fire died down, people became even more anxious than before because now they were starting to wonder if their homes and those who had not been able to evacuate in time survived or perished in the bombing. In that moment scenes of the past and scenarios of the future flashed through my mind like a whirlwind. I thought if it was impossible to stay in this city I'd surely have to seek a livelihood in the rear or "home front." It was August of 1937, I was in Taiyuan. If the War against Japanese Aggression dragged on, when would it end? And where would I be then? Suppose the War ended, in the most pessimistic estimation, in 1951, where would I be and would I even have survived till then? Friends who heard this supposition of mine were all shocked. (We arrived in Taiwan on November 30, 1948, and came to Hsinchu in 1949. At this writing we are already 24 years from 1937.)

Before my arrival in Xi'an, all that I heard about and witnessed was the carnage of war. Soldiers died on frontlines and civilians died in air raids behind the frontlines, with their severed limbs and body parts hanging on tree branches or on power lines. The bodies of the civilians were summarily disposed of in flimsy caskets, with the dark red blood left uncleaned. At every railway station on the way wounded soldiers could be heard moaning and begging for help. Along the way one could hear the crying of orphaned children whose parents were scattered during Japanese bombing and perished. The gruesome sights and sounds are indescribable. Once I entered the gate of Xi'an, I had the feeling of having arrived in a Shangri-La: pop songs and pleasing music were played in stores, people walked in a leisurely manner in the streets and establishments offering entertainment of various forms were crowded with pleasure seekers. I was taken aback by this atmosphere of peace and prosperity in a raging war.

A Belgian expatriate was deeply impressed when he saw Chinese civilians traveling to the rear or Home Front. His experience in World War One was when the German army thrust into Belgium, the Belgian people did not have the luxury of running away and were totally at the mercy of the German army because there was nowhere to run to.

While the winds of war had not reached Xi'an when I first arrived, it soon saw its airport bombed several times, with ensuing air battles. The poorly equipped air force of China was not yet well-trained, and therefore was no match for the Japanese.

Not long after I started working at the Home for War Orphans, my second elder brother was preparing to return to our home village. He planned to take public transport from Xi'an to Suide, where he would cross the Yellow River into Jingle. Once there he would assess the situation to decide whether to travel on to Taiyuan or go straight home. My second elder brother knew that I was now able to take care of myself now. He must have felt relieved, although he never verbalized the thought. He felt comfortable enough to carry with him only what money he needed and leave the rest of his cash with me for safekeeping, which he would later instruct me as to how to remit to him. This was because he was undertaking a long trip and carrying too much cash would be foolhardy. After my second brother left, through the intermediary of Lu Heli, a friend from my province, and Mr. Peng, manager of the Northwest Company of Chengdu, I was offered an opportunity to work at the Yumin Trade Company, which was founded by Feng Shangwen and Zhang Zhiru, both colleagues of Mr. Peng at the Northwest Company. I decided to take the offer and soon submitted my resignation to the Home for War Orphans. I took a Sichuan-bound bus on the Sichuan-Shaanxi highway.

The bus was driven, at a great speed, by a big man who was a native of Shandong province. Traveling on the same bus were Wang Jingrong and Zhang Mingxuan, both colleagues from Northwest Company. This was my first experience with long-haul buses and my first trip south. What I saw along the way was radically different from what I experienced in my home town. When the bus climbed up the Qinling Mountains and crossed the Daba Mountains it zigzagged up and down roads that made hairpin turns and were often wide enough only for one car. Those treacherous roads were no stranger to deadly accidents. But that was the period of the War, when people no longer gave much thought to life or death and tended to be daring in all things.

There were many places of historical interest along the way, but to my regret I didn't have an opportunity to see many of them due to the time constraints the bus was in. I was able though to visit the Temple dedicated to Zhang Liang when the bus went down the south slope of the Qinling Mountains. The temple housed Taoist monks. The rear hall of the temple used to be where Huang Shigong gave Zhang Liang a book titled The Art of War by Taigong, believed to be the Six Secret Teachings by Jiang Ziya, also known as Three Strategies of Huang Shigong. The spacious and quiet interior of the temple was inspirational. Behind the temple a tall peak rose into the clouds, with its top invisible from the ground. I did not have a chance to visit the spot where Xiao He caught up with Han Xin, nor Mount Dingjun, nor Wu Hou Temple.   

The bus passed through Hanzhong, traveled on to Ningqiang before stopping at Guangyuan, where we passed the night. While there I visited the cliffs with grottoes housing the Thousand Buddhas and the park in the environs. One could still see the ancient gallery roads. These plank roads originally built on the face of cliffs had been replaced by semi-open tunnels chiseled into the cliff along the ancient trails, about 7 meters in width and height, overlooking the Mingyue Gorge on the Bailong river, which is a tributary of the Jialing river. The Bailong river originates in Wudu of Gansu province. The gallery road bore a resemblance to the Suao-Hualien Highway on the eastern coastal cliffs of Hualian, Taiwan.

In the streets of Ningqiang one could buy big, fat purplish young ginger roots and a delicious light green fruit with down on its skin called "yang tao" or star fruit.

Eggs were very cheap in Guangyuan. In autumn, the locality produced a big dark-skinned pear about the size of a bowl, each weighing about 4 jin (about 2 kilograms). The local pomegranate rivaled the giant pear in size and in taste.

The bus set off from Guangyuan, passed Zhaohua and arrived in Jian'ge, where the passengers were ferried across the river and put on another bus, which turned out to be an open-top one. As this open-top bus turned left on an upslope it was thrown off the road due to excessive speed and lay on its side on the right side of the road. We were lucky that the bus did not fall further over the steep cliff. When it happened I felt the tail of the bus was oddly elevated and before I knew what was happening I got dumped out of the vehicle. Afraid lest the bus roll over me, I closed my eyes and crouched down and stayed immobile. Then I heard a commotion and saw the other passengers scatter frantically in all directions, apparently none the worse for the accident.  Only a military officer had a contusion on his derriere but no bleeding. My colleague Mr. Wang, who was near-sighted and normally wore corrective glassed, no longer had his lenses in the frame. But due to shock he remained rooted to the spot, unaware that he was wearing lens-less glasses. I found the lenses for him. His red, pimpled nose now became even redder after being squeezed during the mishap.

With the help of soldiers nearby, the truck-like bus was righted and continued on its way. The passengers now were all in a dither, worrying about what other misadventure might lie ahead. Soon however we arrived in the county town of Jian'ge and transferred to another vehicle there to continue our trip. The towering Jian'ge Cliffs were truly impressive. They constituted a natural rocky fortress that extended for miles, with Jianmen Pass sitting at the top of the bluffs in the middle, truly giving the impression that "one person manning the fort could keep an army out." On the way to Zitong, we got to visit the famous Wenchang temple, with a quiet elegance in the midst of tall ancient pines. When we went on from here we saw rows of ancient cypress trees planted by Zhang Fei as he led his army through the area. The bus went past Mianyang and arrived in Guanghan. On the way it was brought home to us that we were now in the country of southern China, with a totally different look from the North. We saw large patches of cultivated fields spread far and wide. The farming households built bamboo groves to serve as boundary fences. This meant we were in the flat Chengdu plains, where one could see forever in all directions. Water buffalos ambled on the side of the road, children played in ponds, farmers, with a white cloth wrapped around their heads and dressed in blue gowns, sat in a relaxed manner, smoking a long-stemmed Chinese pipe, with a pouch dangling at its end. No wonder this region has been given the name of Tian fu zhi guo (land of abundance) in antiquity and is today a bread basket and provider of fighting men.

Everywhere I went, I closely observed the local habits, culture and products. Once we arrived in Chengdu, my attention was drawn to the big mushrooms in the food markets, with a diameter of about a Chinese foot and one Chinese inch thick. People bought just a slice of it. The area was a major producer of sugar canes, mandarines and oranges, and an apple with a rough skin that had a faintly banana-like taste. The Jintang county is a producer of Luzon tobacco leaves, the silver ear fungus, the caterpillar fungus and numerous other medicinal herbs unique to Sichuan.

The outskirts of Chengdu boasted numerous points of interest. I once attended a fair at the Black Sheep Temple (Qing Yang Gong). The Wuhou Shrine sits among ancient cypress and pine trees, with its huge, imposing halls. Nearby is the tomb of Emperor Zhaolie of the Han dynasty. The Wangjiang (Riverview) Pavilion towers over the river Jin, with the Well of Xue Tao nearby, said to be where she used to make her paper for writing her verses. Regrettably I never had a chance to visit the Du Fu Thatched Cottage Park.

The Huaxiba neighborhood is where Huaxi (West China) University was located. After the War against Japanese Aggression ended, Ginling (Women's) College and Cheeloo University temporarily used its premises to reopen their schools. Cheeloo University operated a hospital affiliated with its medical school.

The main drag in Chengdu was Chunxi Road. On the sidewalks of this bustling street I ran into friends whom I hadn't seen in years. Shaocheng Park was famous for its many teahouses and had facilities where any visitors could enjoy a game of weiqi (Go) or archery for a fee. One often saw banners hung in front of a teahouse bearing the name of some association of people from a certain prefecture (county), presumably some kind of club formed by folks sharing the same origin. The teahouses also offered a venue where businessmen discussed and made deals. 

Chengdu was also famous for the manufacture of ruan duan (charmeuse, a lightweight fabric woven with a satin weave), satin quilt covers and all kinds of colorful damask textile products--the renowned Sichuan silk tapestry. The city had a high level of cultural development. The movie theaters even provided synopses in English. There was a high sensitivity to novel things coming from abroad, as was evident in the dress fashions exhibited in Chinese and foreign films shown in the city. People were especially interested in women's fashion trends. Whenever a new lady dress style came out you would see in a couple of days women walk about wearing dresses in imitation of that style, creating a hot new trend for a while.

In May 1938, I set out from Xi'an and arrived in Chengdu in early June. I lodged at 47 Shizi Lane, where Yumin Trade Company was located. The company was founded by Mr. Shi and Mr. Zhou, and Mr. Feng and Mr. Zhang were invited to manage its marketing of local products, such as dang gui (Angelica sinensis, or female ginseng) and Wu Bei Zi (Chinese gall, Galla Chinensis), and other traditional Chinese medicinal ingredients, as well as tobacco leaves from Jintang, bought in bulk to be exported from the port of Haifang. The company had a staff of about a dozen persons. I was in charge of accounting, and the eldest daughter of Mr. Shi was cashier. A Mr. Liu Yuxuan, who came from Xi'an to seek a college education in the city, also temporarily stayed on the premises of the company. He and I got along very well. Shortly after, he left for his school.

[Introduction][1][2][3][4][5][6][Addendum][Chronology]

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