War Trash (26 page)

Now it was my turn. I spoke in English, describing the persecution in Compound 72 – how Liu Tai-an had disemboweled Lin Wushen and how my former schoolmate Yang Huan had been cudgeled and strangled to death. After giving an account of how the pro-Nationalist officers in that compound had cut some men to collect the tattoos they themselves had inflicted on them by force, I pulled up my shirt and displayed the words on my belly – FUCK COMMUNISM. To my surprise, General Bell chuckled. He immediately checked himself; yet his large nose still gave out a snuffling sound. I banged the table with my fist and shouted, "You think this is funny, huh? Damn you!"

"No, that's not what I think," he said. "I can't imagine they'd play such a prank."

"Prank?" I cried. "With these words on me, how can I live a normal life in my homeland?"

Red patches appeared on his face. "I hadn't thought of it in that light." He lowered his head and pressed his lips.

"This is a crime, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes, of course."

"This took place in one of the compounds under your charge. Are you not responsible for it?"

"Maybe in part, I would say," he muttered.

"Those prison chiefs were trained in Japan and Taiwan, and then sent back by your government to help you run the camp. They murdered and beat us at will. Isn't the American government responsible for their crimes?"

"If what you say is true, our government didn't do a great job. To be frank, I have no idea who trained them."

His equivocal answer infuriated me. I lost self-control, shouting at him hysterically, "Stop dodging! You think you're clean? Let me tell you, you too are a criminal whose hands are stained with Chinese and Korean blood. You think you can pretend you don't know what crimes your men committed? You think you can bend our will and force us to betray our motherland? Do you know what the true Chinese spirit is? Let me tell you, if we're alive, we're Chinese men; if we're dead, we're Chinese ghosts. Those bastards under your protection can never change us by mutilating our bodies. Let me say this to you – "

Ming grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me out of the tent to cool me down. "Boy, I never thought you could be so emotional," he said. I too was surprised by my outburst, which began to embarrass me.

When we had returned to the tent after a smoke, Colonel Choi asked solemnly, "General Bell, are you responsible for the crimes committed by your men or not?"

"Maybe for some of them."

"Are you guilty or not?"

After a long pause, Bell answered, "Perhaps partially."

Chaolin stood up and spoke in a voice of some authority. By now I had calmed down, so I translated his words to the general.

Chaolin said, "We understand that as an officer, you have to obey your government's orders. Yet what you have done is to sow the seeds of hatred among peoples. We believe the American people love peace and hate war, just like us Chinese and Koreans. We hope you can do something to make amends."

Bell nodded and said, "Thank you for your wise words. Trust me, I won't forget this experience, or this lesson. I shall try my very best to correct our mistakes." There was a slight tremor in his voice.

In the afternoon we went about working on two documents. The first one was called "The Korean and Chinese POWs' Accusations," which listed the major crimes perpetrated by the prison guards and would be released to the world (General Bell's kidnapping had already drawn international attention and some reporters had arrived at Koje Island). The second one was entitled "The Promise Made by the American Prison Authorities" – it was meant to be signed by Bell, so that we could get decent treatment and have our living conditions improved.

After a brief meeting we unanimously agreed on the four prerequisites for Bell's release: first, the prison guards must stop using violence on the inmates; second, the prison authorities must abandon the policy of the so-called "Voluntary Repatriation of Prisoners"; third, they must call off the screening of the North Korean and the Chinese soldiers; fourth, they must recognize the union of the POWs as a legitimate association and cooperate with it.

Now everything would depend on whether General Bell would accept these preconditions. If he did, he'd be set free and the victory would be ours.

We wondered how the enemy would respond to our demands. Their new commandant, General Smart, who had arrived the previous night to replace Fulton and take full command of the camp, had already issued six ultimatums, ordering us to release Bell unconditionally, but we had ignored them all. As our discussion continued, the telephone rang. Colonel Lee picked up the handset and passed it to a Korean interpreter. I sat nearby and could hear the voice at the other end. The caller was General Fulton, who wanted to speak to Bell.

An orderly was sent for the general. Two minutes later Bell stepped in. Choi told him, pointing at the phone, " Fulton wants to speak to you."

"Hello, this is Matt," Bell said into the mouthpiece.

"How are you, Matt?" asked the other end. I craned my neck so that I could overhear the whole conversation.

"I'm okay, Charlie."

"Listen, Nancy has arrived from Tokyo. I went to see her just now. She was crying, this is hard for her. She's so emotional that I haven't told her yet that we have phone contact with you. But she may call you soon."

Bell furrowed his brow. "Please tell her I'm fine, no need to worry."

"Matt, tell me, have they insulted or tortured you? We're very concerned."

"Believe me, I'm okay." Bell glanced at Colonel Choi and went on, "In fact they've been respectful."

"Thank God! Do you know how long they'll keep you? Tell me what I can do to help."

"I've no idea, maybe when their conference is over. Don't press them. Just let them go on with their conference."

"All right, I'll stay around here. Call anytime you need me."

"Thank you, Charlie. This means a lot. Let's hope we'll meet soon."

"Yes, I'll keep my fingers crossed, Matt. Good-bye."

"Good-bye."

I was amazed by the phone call, not having expected that the American generals would talk in a casual, personal manner in the midst of such a crisis. They had treated each other as friends, not as comrades who shared the same ideal and fought for the same cause. They hadn't mentioned any ideological stuff. What a contrast this was to Chinese officers, who, in a situation like this, would undoubtedly speak in the voice of revolutionaries, and one side would surely represent the Party.

After dinner Chaolin and I went to see General Bell. The previous evening Commissar Pei had instructed Chaolin to mediate between the Koreans and the Americans and make sure that Bell signed the agreement. The commissar also said that he would organize demonstrations in Compound 602 to support our struggle, and that we must remain composed and reasonable, because a victory could be earned only through careful planning and patient negotiation. Our Korean comrades tended to be too hot-blooded and would even refer to themselves as Great Stalin's soldiers who wouldn't share the same earth and sky with the American imperialists. Many of them lost their temper easily.

General Bell looked exhausted, but he seemed pleased to see us. After we sat down, Chaolin told him through my translation, "General, we do want you to return to your family safely. That's why we came to talk with you."

"Thank you. I appreciate your good intentions," Bell said.

"We understand that your wife is here, and your children must be worried about you too. So please sign the agreement tomorrow. If you don't, we're afraid our Korean comrades may lose their patience. To tell the truth, we've been trying to keep them from running berserk."

"Well, I'll have to see what's on that paper before I sign it."

"We understand that. If you can't accept some parts of the agreement, talk with them. Don't just turn it down categorically. I'll try to persuade them to revise it. In short, don't lose this opportunity for peace."

"I shall keep that in mind."

"Good. Have a restful night."

"The same to you."

We went out and felt relieved. It was overcast, and soundless lightning slashed the northern sky and silhouetted the ridges of the distant hills. We parted company because I had to join Ming in preparing the documents for the following day.

Early the next morning, a copy of our preconditions was delivered to General Smart. While waiting for his reply, we held the ceremony of signing the agreement. On the ground outside the tent sat over seven thousand men in neat lines, though some of them were carrying self-made weapons, whose wide variety precluded the uniformity of the formation. They were waiting to hear the final outcome of our three days' struggle. Meanwhile, inside the tent the atmosphere was solemn and tense. Colonel Choi announced that this was the last part of our conference and that now we were going to test the sincerity of General Bell's attitude toward his crimes. With a wave of his hand he summoned an interpreter to read this agreement to our captive:

I promise to immediately stop our barbarous behavior, our insult and torture of Korean and Chinese prisoners, such as forcing them to write reactionary letters in blood, threats of solitary confinement, mass murdering, rifle and machine-gun shooting, using poison gas, germ weapons, experiments with the prisoners for the A-bomb.

I also promise to observe the Geneva Convention, humanely treat my prisoners, the Brave Soldiers of Great Stalin, give good medical service, human food, new clothing, and stationery. I shall follow international law and let all POWs go back to their home country safely.

I also promise to stop "Voluntary Repatriation" and screening prisoners, and to punish my soldiers who beat and curse prisoners.

Brigadier General Matthew Bell

While listening I felt the hair on the nape of my neck bristle. My head was reeling. The previous afternoon we had discussed what this document should include, and nobody had mentioned stationery, new clothing, or the A-bomb. How could our Korean comrades have produced such a wild piece of writing?

The interpreter went up to Bell and with both hands presented the sheet of paper to him. Bell put on his reading glasses and looked through it. He said calmly, "There's no way I can sign this."

"Why?" asked Colonel Choi, whose small eyes turned triangular.

"The language is inappropriate, and I'm not authorized to respond to some of these demands."

Chaolin stepped in, "Do you wish to revise it?"

Bell thought for a moment, then shook his head. "This is impossible to revise. It has to be rewritten."

When the Korean interpreter had translated his words, all eyes glowered at the general. Bell flinched but added, "If I signed this, it would constitute treason. I'm an honorable man and won't commit such a crime against my country."

A Korean officer slapped the table and yelled at him. Shunji, the woman who knew English, interpreted his words to Bell: "No signature, no go back!"

Quick-witted, Chaolin said to the general, "How about this – you write something that covers the essence of our demands and is also acceptable to yourself?"

"Well…" Bell fingered his mustache and seemed reluctant. Then he said, "All right, let me try."

He picked up a ballpoint and wrote on a pad of yellow paper:

With regard to your demands, I admit that there were instances of abuse and bloodshed in the prison compounds on Koje Island, and that some POWs were killed by other inmates and injured by the U.N. guards. As the commanding officer I am partially responsible for the loss of lives. I can assure you that in the future the POWs here will receive humane treatment in accordance with international law. I will do everything in my capacity to prevent violence, bloodshed, and corporal punishment. If such incidents occur again, I should be called to account.

He looked through the statement carefully and stopped at a spot for a long time. He picked up the pen, then put it down. He handed the pad to us.

I roughly translated the contents to Chaolin. He lowered his head and mulled them over for a few seconds, then asked, "This is acceptable to us, don't you think?"

"Yes, it's pretty good," I said.

We passed the statement on to the Korean interpreter. He began translating it to their officers and representatives, some of whom got angry, shaking their heads and shouting. Chaolin went over to Choi and talked with him. He insisted that despite the absence of most of the details they had put in, the statement in principle conveyed the spirit of our original demands, especially where Bell mentioned he was partially responsible for the crimes. As for the issue of screening the prisoners, Bell indeed might not be in a position to respond to it. Both Choi and Lee nodded in agreement; probably they realized there was no other way to break this deadlock.

So we told Bell that we would go along with his version. He signed it willingly, then took off his glasses and rested his arm on the back of the chair, gazing at us almost emotionlessly. He closed his eyes, perspiration gathering on his forehead.

All the people in the tent stood up and applauded. Bell got to his feet, clapping lightly too. Chaolin and I went up to him. We shook hands with him for the first time. His grip was heavy and damp.

Then came a storm of hurrahs from outside. From Compound 76 the news of our victory spread through shouts to other compounds, which began celebrating it as well. Meanwhile, a group of prisoners painted two sentences, as though directly quoted from General Bell's promise, on white sheets and hung them on the front fence for the Americans to see: "WE WILL NOT KILL AGAIN!" and "WE WILL TREAT POWS HUMANELY!"

After lunch the new American commandant, General Smart, showed up at the front gate to receive Bell. He had been sent over to cope with the crisis, because the commander of U.N. forces, General Ridgway, was unhappy about the way General Fulton had handled this incident, especially about his allowing us to hold the conference. We took Bell to the gate and handed General Smart a receipt to sign. Smart was a stocky man with a firm paunch, a muscular face, and rheumy eyes. We could tell he loathed us and was disgusted with the piece of paper, which read: