I have been reading a magazine published by Mme. Sun Yat-sen's China Welfare Institute. It is a new periodical started this year and it has a fitting name, "China Reconstructs." It has many illustrations of the New China, all showing that the vast continental nation has rolled up its sleeves to tackle the gigantic job of educating the illiterate, of producing plenty so that people will not die of recurrent famine as before, and of controlling floods which have brought sorrow to millions year after year.
I was interested in an article written by Fu Tso-yi titled "Ending the Flood Menace." When I was assigned by the U. S. Army to the guerrilla area in 1944 and 1945, Fu Tso-yi was a warlord blockading one side of the area I was in. General Fu was under Chiang Kai-shek's thumb and he squeezed the peasants in his area, as did all warlords, and the people despised him.
Today, he is a rehabilitated man, who believes in social progress. He is the minister of water conservancy in the People's Republic of China. His department is taking charge of the Huai River project where about 2,500,000 people are working, removing 16 million cubic yards of earth in about a year since work started in November 1950. Earth dikes extending 1,120 miles have been built.
China's Curse "Known for Centuries"
I was particularly interested in some observations of the former warlord in whose territory I stopped during the period of the Marshall truce mission.
"Our historical records," Fu writes, "count no less than 979 floods along its (Huai) course between 246 B. C. and 1948 A. D. In other words, the Huai has produced a flood every two years for some seventy generations!
"There are three basic conditions making for floods along the Huai. They have always been the same and have been known for centuries . . ."
But no one did anything about it. Chiang did nothing. He left China in such a state that the July 1950 flood inundated 6,600,000 acres in the Huai area, which has 50 million peasants, or one-third the population of the United States.
When I was reading "CHINA RECONSTRUCTS" I thought of Mme. Sun, whom I had the opportunity of meeting when I made my first trip from Yenan to Chungking. I will write about her later. This particular trip was the most exciting trip I ever made and I do not believe I exaggerate when I say that I played a small part in averting what could have developed into an embarrassing situation for our country, or possibly into an international situation.
I Become Escort of the Yenan Delegation
It was April 2, 1945. The Yenan airstrip was crowded and all its leaders were there. It was a big day, for the Chinese Communist delegation headed by elder statesman Tung Pi-wu, was leaving for the United Nations Conference in San Francisco. They were flying on a U. S. transport. I was travelling on the same plane.
We flew to Sian, Chiang's frontier bastion, where he kept 500,000 of his best troops facing Yenan, instead of using them to fight the Japanese militarists. Since the weather was bad, the pilot said we would fly above the storm and head for Chungking. For an hour we tried to gain altitude but we could not get above the storm without oxygen masks. So we turned back and landed at Sian.
As we alighted from the plane, I discovered that we had six Communists with us in this city dominated by Kuomintang secret police. Being the only American among the passengers, I became their escort. I made arrangements for billeting. I spoke to an extremely cooperative Air Transportation Command captain who soon realized our security risk. He said the Chinese delegation were General Albert Wedemeyer's guests, since they were flying on our plane, and we must give them the fullest protection.
The Missionaries Were Clamoring To Be Evacuated
The captain had his hands full, since the Japanese army was driving toward Sian and all foreign missionaries throughout the area were clamoring to be evacuated by air. The airport was crowded.
Our pilot came to me and suggested that we try for Chungking again. We took off and bucked through the storm for four hours. It was already dark. Tung Pi-wu, the gray-haired, bearded delegate to the UNO, was lying down. Al1 his staff, including his witty interpreter, Ch'en Chia-kang; was sick, terribly sick. We were all worried, since a trip from Sian to Chungking normally took only two and a half hours. We were one hour and a half overdue.
"Sergeant Ariyoshi, I think we are lost," Chia-kang said to me very sadly, too sick to get excited. "Don't you think we are over Japanese lines?" he asked.
"We Are Not Too Far From Tibet"
I went forward to the cockpit. The pilot told me that we had spent an hour gaining altitude and now we were going down to Chengtu, not Chungking.
When I told this to Chia-kang and Tung, the latter smiled.
"We are not too far from Tibet," Tung said.
I nodded. He closed his eyes. I watched him lying there with a blanket thrown over him. About ten years before, he had climbed Tibetan mountains in the historic "Long March" of 8,000 miles when he was past 50. Many of his comrades had fallen on mountain peaks where rarefied air had exhausted them. Tung and other survivors had to push on without them. In this march, he had led a women's group of about 30 members, moving swiftly with the troops, often ahead of them to do public relations work and win the friendship of the native populace so that the troops would be fed and billeted.
I regretted that we were flying through a storm. Otherwise, I would talk to him. He had played such a vital role in Chinese history in cooperation with Dr. Sun Yat-sen and in the Nationalist Parity during the revolution of the mid-twenties. Before we retired that night I thought we might be able to talk about the "Long March," which is a fascinating story in itself.
U. S. Officer Said Chinese "Were Chinese"
I did nob get this opportunity. When we landed at Chengtu, we found the American quarters filled to overflowing by missionary evacuees from Sian. Some were sleeping in tents. Strong wind, and heavy rain were sweeping through the city.
I went up to a U. S. air corps lieutenant and explained to him that for security reasons the Communists must be billeted in the American hostel area. I told him that it would be unwise to send the Yenan delegation to the Nationalist air corps hostel.
The officer felt that Chinese were Chinese and the Nationalist secret police wouldn't do anything to the Communists. I could have told him of the hundreds of people who had disappeared, and of the concentration camps. But there was no point in arguing for the officer was in a terrible mood because missionary evacuees, whose destination was Chungking, kept landing at Chengtu because of the bad weather.
I Ask for Guards To Protect Delegation
I stayed with the Communists as a self-appointed escort. As soon as we arrived in the Chinese hostel area, Nationalist soldiers stared, first with curiosity, then with hostility at the Communists whose Yenan-made uniforms gave away their identities.
I asked the American sergeant who drove us to the billet to get us a separate room. The Nationalist hostel officer argued that the Communists could sleep in a corner of a barracks where Nationalist pilots were sitting up in bed, watching the Communists. The Chinese officer argued that I go to the American area. Other Chinese air corps officers joined in the argument, saying that since Nationalist pilots who flew with U. S. pilots were segregated at the" air base, why should I, an American, live in their hostel. They were bitter at the segregation policy, but I sensed that they did not want me around for other reasons. The Nationalists gathered around me and tried to prevent me from calling the base headquarters. An officer answered and I explained the situation to him. He spoke to the Nationalist officer and told him that the U. S. Army would pay for my lodging. I also asked for two MP sentries right away.
I finally managed to get a small, separate room for the Communists. I locked the door. Kuomintang soldiers and pilots gathered outside our door, jabbered and periodically pounded on it. I did not sleep, and I believe the Communists were wide awake. I expected anything to happen. I did not dare open the door to call the sentries who were quite a distance out on the street. The Nationalists harassed us until almost two in the morning, whan an MP lieutenant came. I asked for additional sentries to stand outside our door.
An Incident Might Have Had Wide Repercussions
Early the following morning the American base headquarters sent a truck for us. A major, who was officer-of-the-day, came to apologize. He had heard the Communist UN delegation was traveling on General Wedemeyer's invitational orders and now this gave" him reason to worry. He assured me this sort of thing would not happen again. I told him that I had tried to get him by phone and since he was out, I had left a message for him. The major stayed with us for about 15 minutes to make amends by lively conversation until we started out for the airstrip.
Any incident that night might have had wide repercussions. Tung Pi-wu was attending the UNO conference partially through Ambassador Hurley's persuasion of the Nationalists to include Communist delegates. And on the very day we arrived in Chengtu, Hurley was telling newspapermen in Washington that the Chinese Communist-led forces were "as if all of us Republicans were armed." Hurley had reversed himself, for he had once even talked of supplying Yenan with arms if his Five Points brought about Chinese unity. When correspondents asked him whether the U. S. would arm the guerrilla forces, Hurley replied that "to give assistance of that type to any faction or political party would amount to recognizing another Chinese regime."
This remark by Hurley touched off a series of sharp attacks against him from Yenan. Hurley, as a mediator, was finished.
Many times after this I pondered what would have happened diplomatically, if anything had happened to us that nightmarish, sleepless night at Chengtu. This was one of those small stories which could have been an explosive one. I was glad when Tung and his group arrived safely in Chungking.