War Trash (33 page)

Ten minutes later, Little Hou said, "I'll memorize the whole thing. They can't search my brain, can they?"

Jailed in the cell longer than Mushu and I, he might be returned to the camp before we two. I said to him, "There're more than nine hundred words and you may not have many days to stay here. Are you sure you can memorize them all?"

Despite my misgivings, I knew this was the only solution. Mushu slapped Little Hou on the shoulder and said, "Boy, if you can remember the entire code, I'll give my citation to you."

We all laughed. From then on Little Hou started to learn the code-book by heart. For two days he did nothing but memorize the numerals and words. He had to seize every moment because he could be sent back anytime. Except when he had to eat and sleep, he sat in a corner, now looking at the thick booklet and now closing his eyes to rehearse what he had read. His mouth moved continuously.

As time went by, I noticed that he looked at the codebook less and less often. Toward the end of the third day he said to us, "I'm done, you can test me now."

We all moved close to the window, since it was already dusk, and began checking his memory. At first his response was rather slow, but accurate. As we continued, he matched the characters with the numerals much faster. Indeed, he had memorized the whole thing. There wasn't a single mistake. We were amazed!

Mushu said to Little Hou, "I always thought you were a bit flighty. Now I know I can't judge a man only by his appearance."

We two raised Little Hou above us, imitating the Americans and the Koreans, shouting Hurray! and Mansai! The moment we put him down, he fell asleep.

Before Little Hou was released from the troublemakers' cell, we passed the codebook on to Commissar Pei. From then on Ming became both the signalman and the code man in the war criminal's jail.

Later Mushu often told the story of our devising the Pei Code to other inmates. Little Hou also bragged about it. He made a codebook with kraft sheets, which nobody but he could use in the camp. Yet he wasn't happy about Mushu's claim that he – Mushu – had conceived the idea of the Walking Telegraphic Method alone; Little Hou often accused him of stealing his "patent." In any case, our success became a legend, a major piece in the inmates' story repertoire.

The code worked effectively. Now our Sixth Battalion had become the hub of communication, because we alone had transmission contact with the prison house, which directly faced our compound. All the messages going to the top leader would be transmitted by our staff. To illustrate the efficiency of the Pei Code, let me give you an example. One day an inmate in the Eighth Battalion working at the wharf chanced upon a page of Liberation Daily, a major Chinese newspaper published in Shanghai. On the page was a brief report on how the Chinese People's Volunteers in Korea helped the civilians till their fields, rebuild their houses, repair the bombed dams and dikes, and dig irrigation canals. The article was about 120 words long. Within a day it was transmitted in its entirety to the prison house through the Walking Telegraphic Method, though we had to skip seven words the code didn't include.

Now that the Pei Code had been established, the commissar resumed his command of the six thousand men in the camp. Actions among the battalions became coordinated, and there was more certainty and purpose in our dealing with the enemy.

The Americans had been trying to suppress our communications all along. I heard from a South Korean officer that an expert code breaker had once been flown in from Hawaii, who had boasted that he could crack our "bush code" after seeing three messages. There were a number of messages in the enemy's possession, but the American expert, after perusing all of them and racking his brains to unravel the logic of the codes, simply couldn't do a thing. He didn't even know there were two codes in use now – one was for intracamp communication and the other was the Pei Code. He kept saying, "This is so messy, absolutely unprofessional." Indeed our codes were highly irregular, following our code men's own whims and improvisations. So they remained uncracked.

23. THE VISIT OF A YOUNG WOMAN

One evening, two days after Mushu was returned to Compound 10,1 was alone in the troublemakers' cell. It was drizzling and the sea had disappeared from view, buried in gray mist. My fingers were twisting the pencil stub, though I wasn't scribbling anything so as not to waste the lead. From behind the house came the drone of a motor.

I put the pencil into my pants pocket and went over to see what was going on outside. To my surprise, a jeep driven by an American officer and carrying a young woman skidded to a halt before the prison house. On the beach stood Ming and the cook. I wondered why they had been let out again; two hours ago they both had done their daily exercise in the open air.

The woman and the eagle-nosed officer got off the jeep. After he whispered something to her and patted her on the shoulder, she headed toward the door of the war criminal's cell alone. She looked under thirty, with long, loosely bound hair, wide eyes, and a heart-shaped face. At first I thought she was Korean. But when she came closer, I could tell she was Chinese, though definitely not from mainland China. She was petite with a slender waist, wearing an orange silk skirt and a cream-colored wraparound top. In her right hand she held a tiny brown leather bag, which looked overstuffed. Her backside swayed a little, throwing ripples down the skirt, while her high-heeled sandals kicked up a bit of white sand. As she turned the corner of the house, her profile displayed the fine curvature of her bust and hips. She wasn't pretty, but attractive in a coquettish way.

Gazing at her, I felt my neck going stiff and the blood pounding in my temples. I hadn't seen a young woman for half a year, and the excitement set my heart throbbing. Why did she come to see Pei? Obviously the guards had purposely taken Ming and the cook out so that she could meet with our commissar alone.

I hurried to the southern end of the cell to get close to the rift in the corner. I turned over the empty bucket and stood on its bottom so that I could hear them better. The tide had subsided on the beach and it was windless, but at first I couldn't catch all they were saying. I attuned my ears and little by little began to pick up their words.

"My, you're mending your shirt!" she said with a soft lilt in dulcet Mandarin.

"A serviceman has to do many things by himself," Pei replied lukewarmly. "In fact I'm doing this for my cook."

"It's very hard, isn't it? This kind of needlework doesn't suit a man like you. It's a woman's work. Can I help you with it?"

"No, you're a guest. I mustn't let you touch this smelly thing, infested with cooties. I'm already grateful that you came all the way to see me."

"I've wanted to visit you for a long time."

"I'm sorry I don't even have a seat for you, and I let you stand like that."

"It's all right. Can I take a photo of you?"

"No, don't waste your film. No, no, if you raise your camera I'll have to cover my face with this shirt."

"All right, I won't do it then."

"Tell me, why did you want to see me? I don't think we've ever met."

"Nothing special, I just came to see how you're doing. Don't you miss home?"

"Of course I do. But thousands of my men miss home too."

"You want to go back to China?"

"Yes."

"Can't you go to another place?"

"Like where?"

"The Free World."

"Where's that?"

" Formosa or America or Europe. How about this? We go to the Free World. I mean you – you and me together."

"What do you mean exactly?"

"I'll accompany you wherever you go as long as you don't return to Communist China."

"But I am a Communist. Where else should I go?"

"You can always change."

"You mean to be a traitor?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then my parents would disown me and even my kids wouldn't call me dad." He chuckled and resumed, "I knew you didn't come here for yourself. You represent the Americans and Chiang Kai-shek. Please go back and tell them that I'm too old to be malleable. They'd better give up on me, just to save them all the trouble."

" Mr. Pei, you're too narrow-minded."

"How do you mean?"

"The world is so vast that you can go anywhere. I don't care where I'm buried as long as I'm happy when I'm alive. A real man should set his mind on distant seas and lands."

"How about this, you come with me back to China?"

"No! How can you say that?"

"A good woman should follow the man she sets her heart on." He gave a belly laugh.

"I don't want to mix with the Reds, period."

"But you said you like me."

"Only if you agree to go to the Free World."

"All right, then let me tell you what I think of you." His voice turned serious. "You're an overseas Chinese and seem to be a reasonable person. Why would you serve the American imperialists this way? Or maybe you were sent here by the Nationalists in Taiwan. Either way, how much do they pay you for trying all your tricks on this old man? Are you not worth more than that?"

"Knock it off! Save this load of crap for the other Commies. Don't talk to your grandma like this."

"Oh-oh, I didn't think you'd blow up so soon."

"Enjoy the jail then."

"Take back your present, will you?"

The door was slammed. Immediately I stepped down from the bucket and rushed to the window. She came out of the corner of the house in a huff. A stout tin landed behind her with a thud, but she paid no mind to it and made for the car. Waving her hand, she said loudly to the American officer, "No go. Such a diehard!"

The officer stretched his neck and shouted at the war criminals cell, "Damn you, I'll get your balls one of these days!"

They got into the jeep. In the murky, humid twilight the car rolled away along the coast toward the east, where the South Korean army's training center was.

I thought the orange tin must contain candies or nuts. A maintenance man strode over and picked it up. He opened it, pulled out a piece of pastry, and took a bite. "Hey, moon cakes stuffed with red bean paste and sesame!" he cried at another man who was digging for clams on the beach, then ran toward him, waving the tin all the way.

The Moon Festival must have been around the corner or just over. Without access to the lunar calendar, I didn't know on what date the holiday fell this year.

The next morning I was returned to Compound 6. Some inmates had seen the jeep carrying the woman to the prison and asked me about her visit. I described to them the exchange between Commissar Pei and her. They were all impressed by our leader's wit and ability to resist female charms. Soon different versions of this story began circulating in the camp. Some of them were extravagantly enlarged. One went so far as to claim that the woman had opened her arms to embrace the commissar, who repelled her by showing her a fat louse caught behind his ear. I noticed that whenever the prisoners talked about Commissar Pei 's meeting with this woman, they tended to poke fun at women in general in order to make themselves appear more macho. They couldn't help bragging about themselves while holding up our top leader as a model.

The truth was that nobody in the commissar's place would have dared to accept the woman's favors. His cook and interpreter were outside within earshot and I was on the other side of the wall, also able to hear the conversation. Besides, the maintenance men were all watchful. Only a fool would have gotten entangled with her then and there. I dared not explain my thoughts to my barracks mates, who seemed eager to create a hero worthy of their worship.

After I saw that woman, to be honest, I thought about her for several days. What kind of person was she, bold enough to offer herself that way? Whatever her motivation, it must have taken a lot of nerve to do that. I was bothered by the fact that she was willing to become intimate with a strange man she must have despised in her heart. Did she do that only for money? Probably so. What a tough job she had, trying to seduce a dedicated Communist like Pei. At bottom I was a little disappointed, because she looked like a decent woman in appearance, not that cheap.

On the other hand, she might not have been serious about her offer at all. If the commissar had agreed to go to the Free World with her, she might have dumped him even before they reached there. Perhaps Pei had discerned this ruse; otherwise he mightn't have dealt with her that flippantly. Perhaps he had just put on a show for me and Ming and the cook to witness, so that we could tell our comrades about it.

24. RAISING THE NATIONAL FLAG

On the afternoon of September 25, 1952, a message came from the prison house, which ordered: "Every battalion must raise our national flag on October 1 to show our spirit and resolve."

The leaders of the ten compounds passed the order down to the ranks. Most of the prisoners got excited. Bored and restless, they were eager to do something on October 1, our National Day. The immediate difficulty was how to make flags and long poles, and how to hoist the flags and protect them from being destroyed by the enemy. In our battalion people were thinking hard about how to get a piece of cloth, but nobody could come up with a suitable solution. That evening, Wenfu, a spare fellow with sleepy eyes who was the battalion chief's orderly, struck on an idea. "Can't we use a piece of rain cloth?" he said.

"You mean to get rid of the rubber part?" asked a company leader.

"Yes." Wenfu narrowed his eyes and seemed to know how to do that.

The Americans had issued us each a piece of waterproof cloth, which we could put on as a rain poncho. It had white nylon fabric on one side and coated rubber on the other.

The next morning Wenfu heated an oil drum behind the kitchen and spread his rain cloth on it. Without much difficulty he peeled off the rubber. We were all impressed. Next, we needed to color the white cloth red. But where could we get the dye or paint? One man pierced his finger with a safety pin and smeared his blood on the white nylon, but soon the blood turned brownish, so this wouldn't do. Then we remembered Mercurochrome, and a man was dispatched to get some from the medic. The antiseptic worked much better, so we decided to use it as the primer for the flag. That resolved, we had to come by five stars. Somebody suggested cutting them out of tinplate. Without delay a few fellows got hold of a pair of pliers and went about making the stars. Meanwhile, the nylon fabric was cut into a rectangle and hemmed along the edges. Then the five stars – one twice as big as the rest – were sewn to the cloth. Many hands were busy helping with the sewing, which was done within an hour.