Read Online The Cold War by Robert Cowley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Cowley
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double-timed up and told us to save our rations in case we were cut off. (A chilling thought, to be sure!) In the late afternoon, my buddy and I were relieved by the next watch, and we set out beyond the compound gate in search of fresh eggs.
About a block to our right, we noticed the Japanese camp, which had several imposing brick buildings. Curious about our recent enemy, we went up to its gate, where a sentry snapped to and saluted us. We returned his salute. (All Japanese troops of all ranks saluted all marines regardless of rank. I was told they respected us because we had defeated the best troops they had.) We entered the camp, knowing from what we had seen in Peking that the Japanese were now on their best behavior around Americans. An officer invited us to two tables neatly spread with white tablecloths. On one were servings of tea and cookies; on the other were several fine samurai sabers. The officer saluted, bowed, and, pointing to the tables, said in perfect English, “You are welcome to anything you wish.” Just then, another marine ran up and told us we were not allowed in the Japanese camp yet. The Japanese officer seemed confused by our sudden departure.
Grumbling mightily, we headed back into the village, still in search of eggs. Some Chinese peasants walked past us in the narrow streets; others sat on benches in front of their houses. A few had winter lettuce or other items for sale, but no eggs. The faces of Lang Fang's inhabitants were tanned and weather-beaten, revealing lives of hard labor and exposure to harsh conditions. The image of these terribly poor people, dressed in drab, dark blue winter clothing, and of the barren, windswept brown landscape was depressing.
Across the track, beyond the sooty, tile-roofed brick railroad station, we saw agroup of several hundred Chinese troops bivouacked. They had stacked arms and were lounging around eating rations. Clad in mustard-colored uniforms, wrap leggings, and sneakers, they also wore the type of fatigue cap that made their ears stick straight out. We noted that their rifles were Japanese Arisakas. There were also numerous Nambu light machine guns, the kind that had given us so much misery during the war. In my limited Chinese, I asked each group of soldiers if there were any eggs for sale. Finally, a tall fellow produced a basket of fresh eggs, and we bought a dozen. Suddenly, I noticed that none of these soldiers was the least bit friendly, unlike most of the other Chinese we had encountered; in fact, they were taciturn and sullen. It was unnerving that such battle-hardened veterans as my buddy and me could have been so oblivious to the mood of these troops.
Carrying our paper bag of eggs, we hurried back across the track, only to be met by a frantic runner who told us that those were Communist troops we had been wandering among! As this was the second runner who had been sent after us, we expected to be disciplined. But our lieutenant did not notice us when we eased past him back into the compound. Soon we heard the word going around that there was a strong indication of Communist activity around the village after dark. We realized that we had already had a close call across the track.
In northern China at this time were many different armed groups: Japanese, Japanese-trained and -equipped Chinese puppet-government soldiers, Chinese Communists, Chinese Nationalists, Chinese bandits, and U.S. Marines—all armed to the teeth and vying to fill the power vacuum resulting from Japan's surrender. To the south, Chiang Kai-shek's Nationalist troops were locked in a bloody civil war with Mao Tse-tung's Communists. U.S. planes were flying Nationalist troops up to Peking to oppose the Communists in the north. In Lang Fang and many other areas, even the surrendered Japanese were allowed to retain their arms, under U.S. supervision, in order to help fight the Communists; they were tough, highly trained, and well-disciplined troops who were best able to
About a block to our right, we noticed the Japanese camp, which had several imposing brick buildings. Curious about our recent enemy, we went up to its gate, where a sentry snapped to and saluted us. We returned his salute. (All Japanese troops of all ranks saluted all marines regardless of rank. I was told they respected us because we had defeated the best troops they had.) We entered the camp, knowing from what we had seen in Peking that the Japanese were now on their best behavior around Americans. An officer invited us to two tables neatly spread with white tablecloths. On one were servings of tea and cookies; on the other were several fine samurai sabers. The officer saluted, bowed, and, pointing to the tables, said in perfect English, “You are welcome to anything you wish.” Just then, another marine ran up and told us we were not allowed in the Japanese camp yet. The Japanese officer seemed confused by our sudden departure.
Grumbling mightily, we headed back into the village, still in search of eggs. Some Chinese peasants walked past us in the narrow streets; others sat on benches in front of their houses. A few had winter lettuce or other items for sale, but no eggs. The faces of Lang Fang's inhabitants were tanned and weather-beaten, revealing lives of hard labor and exposure to harsh conditions. The image of these terribly poor people, dressed in drab, dark blue winter clothing, and of the barren, windswept brown landscape was depressing.
Across the track, beyond the sooty, tile-roofed brick railroad station, we saw agroup of several hundred Chinese troops bivouacked. They had stacked arms and were lounging around eating rations. Clad in mustard-colored uniforms, wrap leggings, and sneakers, they also wore the type of fatigue cap that made their ears stick straight out. We noted that their rifles were Japanese Arisakas. There were also numerous Nambu light machine guns, the kind that had given us so much misery during the war. In my limited Chinese, I asked each group of soldiers if there were any eggs for sale. Finally, a tall fellow produced a basket of fresh eggs, and we bought a dozen. Suddenly, I noticed that none of these soldiers was the least bit friendly, unlike most of the other Chinese we had encountered; in fact, they were taciturn and sullen. It was unnerving that such battle-hardened veterans as my buddy and me could have been so oblivious to the mood of these troops.
Carrying our paper bag of eggs, we hurried back across the track, only to be met by a frantic runner who told us that those were Communist troops we had been wandering among! As this was the second runner who had been sent after us, we expected to be disciplined. But our lieutenant did not notice us when we eased past him back into the compound. Soon we heard the word going around that there was a strong indication of Communist activity around the village after dark. We realized that we had already had a close call across the track.
In northern China at this time were many different armed groups: Japanese, Japanese-trained and -equipped Chinese puppet-government soldiers, Chinese Communists, Chinese Nationalists, Chinese bandits, and U.S. Marines—all armed to the teeth and vying to fill the power vacuum resulting from Japan's surrender. To the south, Chiang Kai-shek's Nationalist troops were locked in a bloody civil war with Mao Tse-tung's Communists. U.S. planes were flying Nationalist troops up to Peking to oppose the Communists in the north. In Lang Fang and many other areas, even the surrendered Japanese were allowed to retain their arms, under U.S. supervision, in order to help fight the Communists; they were tough, highly trained, and well-disciplined troops who were best able to
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