Still The Rice Grows Green

950 C14s , 55-04479

Galdwell

Still the rice grows green

D DDD1 035=117^ M

SER-Q.l 1990

The coast of Red China as seen from Kinmen.

S TILL THE RICE
GROWS GREEN

Asia in the Aftermath

of Geneva and Panmunjom

JOHN C. CALDWELL

HENRY REGNERY COMPANY

Chicago, 1955

Copyright 1955 by Henry Regnery Company, Chicago, Illinois. Copy
right under International Copyright Union. Manufactured in the United
States of America, Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 55-6848.

Contents

PROLOGUE 1

BOOK ONE: A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING 5

Being the story of the men and women of Free
China living and fighting on the guerrilla islands
and on the mainland of China.

BOOK TWO: OF MEN AND DREAMS 83

Being the story of men on Formosa who have risen
from corruption and defeat to "build good govern
ment.

BOOK THREE: THEY WILL NOT FIGHT 185

Being the struggle of Koreas people in the bitter
aftermath of a truce which leaves the land divided,

BOOK FOUR: THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT 255

Being the struggle between those who have given
up hope and those who still fight on, and an ac
count of the part that America must play if right is
to conquer.

MAP OF FORMOSA 309

MAP OF NATIONALIST ISLANDS ALONG FUKDEN COAST . . 310
FACTS ABOUT FORMOSA 311

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Portions of some chapters in this book have
appeared previously as articles in The Free
man, The Christian Herald, The Nashville
Banner, and The Nashville Record, and in
feature articles distributed by The Spadea
Syndicate, New York.

Names of persons given are true names ex
cept in a few cases where individuals have
relatives living in Communist China and
North Korea and where true identities can
not be given because of the danger of re
prisals.

&TILL THE RICE

GREEN

Prologue

IF THE DAY be bright and clear, the pilot flying the lonely
skies from Formosa westward to the China Coast sees the
mainland of Enslaved China even before the lofty peaks o
Free China recede into the haze.

First are the beaches, the mud flats, the myriad islands.
Then, like a giant staircase, the mountains rise, green tier
upon tier, to the horizon and on far beyond to die sterile
heights of Tibet.

If one looks closely upon this unfolding panorama of China
one sees alien gashes upon the land. Beginning at the very
water's edge, trenches zig-zag across rice fields and hills, even
cresting, here and there, to the very mountain tops. There are
new trenches, lately dug by the men of Mao. There are older
trenches, overgrown and weedy, built five years ago in de
fense against those who now rule the land.

And among the maze are even older diggings, the prepara
tion of a decade ago, dug by ill-trained and poorly armed men
in desperate hope that the Japanese invader could be stopped.
If imagination takes over, still more and more futile trenches
we see; those of the 1930*5 when Communist and Kuomintang
first clashed in the green mountains of Fukien and Kiangsi.
Too, there are those of still earlier times, when a young Gen
eralissimo swept victoriously northward to victory.

So it is that the very face of the land shows the never-end
ing struggle of the people whose yearning has been for peace
but whose lot has been war for as long as even the old men
can remember.

PROLOGUE

So it Is also, on Formosa, for hundreds of miles through the
heartland of Korea, on Okinawa where signs of past war min
gle with preparations for the new. The face of Eastern Asia,
the landscape of an hundred off-shore islands mutely testify
to bloody past and hopeless future.

Yet men and women live on and breed on in the shadow
of the guns. Their rice fields are still green, though increas
ingly is the rice bowl not filled. Children come, in ever in
creasing numbers, for fertility never leaves the starving and
the poverty-stricken. Many are destined some day to man the
trenches. Untold thousands will never see their ancestral
homes. For they are victims either of wars or of man's new
solution to war the dividing of ancient lands by the i/th or
the s8th parallel. These are the men and women of the divided
lands: Korea, north and south; China, free and Enslaved,
Indo-China, Communist and for-a-time-free. And who knows
where next?

Hearts and souls too, have been scarred by the drift of
events. The yeast of Change, of uncertainty and broken moor
ings ferments in the hearts of the young. Some have a new
found faith, many have no faith.

In the tea fields of Formosa's mountains, the young farm
girl sings as she works down the row, the song answered by
the young man whose soul is also in torment. And shame
lessly, these children of a great moral heritage lie down to
gether between the rows, the meeting of their flesh watched
and applauded by others who soon join in brief escape.

On the broad avenue which leads past the Chang Duk
palace in Seoul, the Kims, the Paks and the Lees gather each
evening as dusk falls. Their bodies released from ancient bind
ing dress are for sale: to the lonely GI who must take his
pleasure in the dark alley; to the officer, the foreign corre
spondent who has the luxury of privacy and a bed. And in the
center of the city a raucous noise comes from the heart of
the gutted Bangchang, the black-market rabbit warren of Ko-

PROLOGUE

rea. Carnegie Hall it is called, the new night club where the
Korean officer comes with his girl, to drink expensive Ameri
can whiskey, to dance to American music, to forget for a while
that his ancestral home lies only fifty miles away, but in an
alien land.

There are others, no less tormented, who work and study
and hope. Empty minds and souls jam the tiny book stores in
Seoul, in Tokyo, in Hong Kong and Bangkok to read of Uto
pias offered by "democrassie" and Communism. Thousands
more diligently study English by choice, Russian by force,
hoping that futures may thereby be affected.

Such is the face of Asia, physically marked by signs of
war, past and planned for, even hoped for; spiritually in fer
ment, the new competing with the old, a bounteous picking
of a strange fruit.

But still, everywhere the rice grows green. For part of the
story of Asia in the aftermath of Panmunjom and Geneva is
one of men and women who still have faith, who refuse to
bend with the changing wind. It is a story found in the dreams
of a guerrilla captain on a lonely outpost, in the hopes of men
and women on Formosa, in the plans of a lady general, in the
heroism of a little girl in Korea, in the courage of a band of
lepers, lost in the backwash of war, but who would not give
up.

Everywhere for those who seek it, faith and hope can still
be found. Everywhere are those who keep the rice fields green
and growing.

BOOK ONE

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

Chapter 1

MANY years ago when I was a high, school lad in Shang
hai, I fell in love with a lighthouse keeper's daughter.
Her name was Bobbie, and she was beautiful in the
manner of those who come from mixed Oriental and Western
stock.

I would not claim that Bobbie was my first love. But she
was unquestionably the first and only daughter of a light
house keeper to enter my life. And therein, rather than in
her beauty, lay the charm and the attraction. In my romantic
day dreams I could see the two of us, tending the flashing
light that guided storm-tossed ships into Amoy's harbor. I
could see us as guardians of the South China Coast, keeping
the beacon lighted through winter storms and typhoons. Pi
rates would cruise about us, smugglers might tempt us, but
together on a lonely island we would keep the China Coast
lighted.

However, an engineer's daughter soon replaced Bobbie in
my heart. Her father was engaged in building a vast dyke
along the Yellow River, and surely this too was a noble proj
ect. Did not perhaps my future lie in doing good works, in
saving China's millions from the ravages of yearly floods?

And so it was that Bobbie and her lighthouse were soon
forgotten. A quarter of a century has passed now and I do

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

not know where she may be. But a few months ago, unex
pectedly and dramatically, I did see I actually visited the
lofty cliff where Bobbie's lighthouse stands.

I was on board a tiny Nationalist Chinese gunboat, an ob
server only, but feeling much a part of the motley crew of
guerrillas, regulars and commandos, taking part in what was
to them a routine raid on Communist shipping off the China
Coast. Besides the officers and crew of Free China's gunboat
P-6, we were three, for my host that day was a Chinese ad
miral, deputy commander of Free China's coastal forces. I
had even been assigned an aide, Commander Yao Wei Tao
of the Chinese Navy, who guided and helped me during a
month's tour of the Chinese guerrilla islands that have been
so much in the news of late.

We had chased and captured a Communist junk out of
Amoy, and the pursuit had taken us far south of our home
base on Kinmen Island, called Quemoy in newspaper reports.
It had been an exciting and dangerous afternoon, for raids
on shipping are risky affairs. Always our captain must be
careful to stay out of range of the Communist coastal bat
teries; for in the excitement of the chase it was easy to stray
too far towards the blue mountains that rise up from the
Fukien Coast.

The P-6 was an ancient craft, built as a trawler for Japan's
fishing fleet. Officers and crew members lived together in evil-
smelling quarters. The day's laundry hung willy-nilly about
the deck. Behind the wheel house were baskets of cabbage
and spinach, for the P-6 had no refrigeration. The vegetables
kept fresh in the wintry breeze which had increased in force
all through the afternoon.

But even at sea on dangerous duty, there was hospitality
on the P-6. After a long and successful chase, Lieutenant
Chang Se Chek, the P-6's commanding officer, produced a
rickety table; a tea pot and cups came from the galley. As
we cruised along on the very edge of the civilized world, just

8

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

beyond the range of Communist gunners, we drank tea and
talked of the never ending twilight war along the China
Coast.

It was then I noticed a tiny, rugged island, steep cliffs
topped by the white of a lighthouse tower.

"Who does that island belong to?" I asked the admiral, as
I had asked of a score of other islands. For along the Coast
there are islands held by Free China's guerrillas, islands oc
cupied by the enemy and the "vacuum" islands, those of shift
ing control or insufficient importance for either side to for
tify.

"We occupy it," replied the admiral. "It is called Tungting
Island."

Suddenly the memories of a quarter of a century came
flooding back. Tungting Island! That was Bobbie's lighthouse
I saw perched high on the cliffs. I remembered too, the brief
ing in the guerrilla .general's headquarters a few days earlier,
remembered that Tungting is the most southerly, the small
est, the most exposed of all Free China's holdings. Quickly I
made my request. Could we visit the island; could I have
the opportunity to talk to the guerrillas who garrisoned its
cliffs?

Admiral Tang, Commander Yao and Lieutenant Chang
conferred lengthily. They spoke in Mandarin which is not
my native dialect, which I can follow only imperfectly. But
it was clear that the admiral was worried about my security,
by the danger of suddenly being cut off by the Communist
gunboats which slip out from mainland harbors as night be
gins to fall.

The argument was going against me, so quickly I cut in,
speaking to the Lieutenant in Foochow, my native dialect.

"Tell the admiral that I will take all responsibility," I urged.
^He may radio guerrilla headquarters to that effect. I must
go to Tungting."

And so it was decided. Messages cracked out, back to Eon-

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

men to advise o our destination, to tell the commanding gen
eral that I would not be present at the feast that night; and
a message went to Tungting on the horizon so that the gar
rison would know that it was a friend, not foe, approaching.

There is not a tree on Tungting's heights. Sheer cliffs rise
three hundred feet from the pounding surf. As we approached
the island I could see the zig-zag steps carved in the cliffs,
leading from the tiny concrete jetty to the summit. The face
of the cliffs bristled with machine gun nests, with rifle pits
barely deep enough for a man to maintain foothold.

The afternoon storm had risen, the sea was roaring by the
time we had approached to the limit of safety. It was still a
half mile to the cliff's base, so the guerrillas sent a tiny sam
pan to take us ashore.

It was no mean feat to climb from a rolling gunboat into
a bucking sampan. It was particularly difficult for the admiral
who was a portly man. And once aboard, it was a marvel that
we did not capsize. Waves roared over us, drenching us from
head to foot. I felt that I was doing far more than duty re
quired. And the admiral was doing something not called for
on the part of men of his rank.

After a half hour we reached the tiny jetty; eager hands
reached out to grasp our tiny craft, to lift us to safety. Twelve
guerrillas stood at attention at the base of the cliff. They pre
sented arms, and a little man stepped forward to introduce
himself. Thus I met Captain Chang Yi Ming, commanding
officer of the tiny guerrilla forces of Free China on Tungting
Island.

The captain was overwhelmed at the honor accorded Tung-
ting's defenders. As we climbed the steps to the summit he
eagerly asked if the visit of an American newspaper corre
spondent did itot perhaps mean that the United States was
ajpput to send aid to the guerrillas.

\ I explained that I hoped my visit would result in such aid,
but that I was merely a representative of the American press*

10

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

without official connections, seeking news of our brave allies.

It was a hard climb for me, more so for the admiral We
passed by the machine guns nestled among the rocks. Here
and there a white rabbit incongruously hopped about, nuz
zling the sparse patches of inoss and lichens growing on the
cliffs. Upon the sides of the sheerer cliffs I could make out
the myriad nests of swifts, from which one of China's great
est delicacies is made.

Captain Chang noted my interest in the nests.

"We have little rice here," he remarked jokingly. "But we
are rich! We can always have a feast of birds' nest soup and
sharks' fins too!"

At last we reached the summit and I saw Bobbie's light
house, its beacon darkened now; for the Nationalists keep the
lights dark so that it will be difficult for shipping to enter en
emy ports. Around the tall white tower was a courtyard, at
its end the house where Bobbie and her family had lived in
days gone by. Other smaller and newer huts were scattered
about the two acres of level land.

Captain Chang ushered me into the old sitting room,
clapped his hands for tea and began, earnestly and seriously,

me.

are responsible for keeping this lighthouse out of en
emy hands," he began. '"We report on shipping, we send
agents to the interior, we gather intelligence from the fishing
boats/:!

"What is the strength of your garrison?" I asked.

"We have just fifty men here/' he replied. "And that crowds
us a good deal."

Then I inquired of rotation, of food and supply problems,
of how these men kept body and soul together in such utter
loneliness.

Captain Chang explained that officers were supposed to
be rotated every six months, enlisted guerrillas every two
months; a supply ship was scheduled to come with rice and

11

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

fresh meat once a week. But these schedules never quite
worked out. He had already spent a year on Tungting. Most
of his men had had a few days' leave on Kinmen. Sometimes
the supply ship missed three or four calls. It all depended
upon weather, upon the activity of the enemy.

"That is why you see a few rabbits/' Captain Chang ex
plained. "The general has told all of us that we must raise
as much food as possible. We have tried rabbits, we have a
few chickens, too." Then he smiled as he continued. "But our
men get so lonely for something to love that most of them
hate to see rabbits killed. Actually it is the 'enemy' that keeps
us going. The fishing junks from the mainland come out and
we trade them rice for fresh fish and vegetables."

"Tell me, Captain Chang/' I asked, "What do your men do
for recreation?"

"Oh, some of the men fish a great deal. We have regular
classes, too. Almost all my men are literate now." Then the
Captain added proudly, "And did you notice the place to play
basketball, right under the lighthouse?"

There were thousands of questions I wanted to ask about
the men who live on Tungting's peak, but there was little
time, the storm was rising and darkness would soon come
upon us. I was curious where the fifty men came from, what
part of China they called home.

Captain Chang's answer surprised me. "Our fifty men come
from twelve different provinces," he told me. And he ticked
off some: Sergeant Chiang hailed from the fruitful red basin
of Szechwan, 1500 miles away; Corporal Lin from nearby
Fukien; Corporal Chen from Peiping.

"How long have these men been away from their families?"
I asked; and then I added a question I would have hesitated
to ask in the days before Communism. "Don't you have a seri
ous morale problem, cooped up here for months with no fam
ily and women?"

The little captain answered me without embarrassment. ""I

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

am fortunate. My family escaped with me to Formosa. But it
has been nearly two years since I have been there. It has been
that time since I had a woman. . . . Twenty-three of our men
are married, most have families they have not seen or heard
from for five, six years."

Then the guerrilla captain paused before continuing. "It is
curious. Corporal Lin whose family lives within fifty miles of
us worries more than those whose women are thousands of
miles away. Occasionally the men who get leave will visit the
"white-faced" girls who have an establishment on Kinmen.
Do you know of it? There are many girls there; the price is
controlled. But many of us never visit the place. You ask how
we get along. I do not know exactly except we fill our days
with work, with study. We are always tired and we hope al
ways for that day when we will go back/' J^

That was by far the longest speech Captain Chang had
made, and he seemed tired, as though the subject con
fused him a little. Quickly I changed the topic. As we walked
through the courtyard I asked what military aid he needed
most.

Chang's face was bright and animated as he answered:
"Above all we need fast boats. You saw the only craft we
have a sampan! We have not much trouble defending the
island when they attack us. Why once when they tried to
land here all we had to do was throw grenades over the cliff!
But we need boats to take us ashore quickly, to get our agents
to the mainland/' Then the captain stumbled a bit for words
as he finished. "We need that kind you used in the big War
the Pee Pee boats, I think they are called."

I did not smile at the little slip of initials. I agreed that such
boats would be most useful, and I promised that I would tell
my people and my government how much use could be made
of a few PT boats. I realized that I had asked an unwise ques
tion, or at best had worded it poorly; for the captain did not
fully understand the relationship between press and govern-

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

ment in America. It was inconceivable to him that an Ameri
can newspaper man would come to Tungting Island without
some official connection, that I could not become a vehicle
for fulfillment of his needs.

And then it was time to take our leave. There remained
for us the dangerous trip back to the gunboat in the rising
seas, the long dark miles back to anchorage at Kinmen. Single-
file we walked down the steep steps to the water's edge. There
the honor guard was waiting, and as I stepped into the toss
ing sampan, a curious thing occurred. The twelve guerrillas
snapped to attention. But instead of presenting arms, or even
saluting, they began to clap.

It was more than the salt wind that brought tears to my
eyes as I heard that unmilitary salute, as Captain Chang
bowed and repeated: "Tsaichien" till we meet again.

As I looked back up the cliff I noticed something on the
white lighthouse tower I had missed. A plaque on the tower's
side proudly proclaimed: "Built by A. M. Bisbee, in the Year
of Our Lord 1871."

Tungting's lighthouse no longer brightens the way for ships
harbor bound or breasting the waves on down-coast course.
The light is dark now, but I could not but believe that Mr.
Bisbee, whoever he was, would feel as I did that a new and
bright light still shown from Tungting's summit, a light that
has not yet been dimmed by war and uncertainty and un
believable loneliness.

I could not tell Captain Chang or the admiral either that
in all probability that light would be extinguished. I could
not have explained that my people who had fought eight years
of revolution, who struggled four bloody years to preserve
their union, who had already fought two great wars for free
dom, now seemed more interested in appeasement, in dream
ing of co-existence, in making deals with the enemy under
cover of loud pronouncements about the massive retaliation
that would follow if the bargain were broken.

14

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

And what o Bobbie and her lighthouse-keeper father?
Their lives had become inextricably woven into that of the
Coast. Did they choose to stay on, to become engulfed in
the tragedy of China? Are they too somewhere behind the
darkness that has fallen on the mainland? Do they perhaps
live somewhere in one of the old treaty ports, hoping desper
ately for the time when the lights will be turned on again?

Chapter 2

TUNGTING ISLAND is the southern anchor, the most ex
posed of the fifty-odd Nationalist-held islands that
drape themselves like a necklace for nearly four hun
dred miles along the bulge of China's Coast. It occupies the
southernmost position in the vital Kinmen Island Command
area, Kinmen being the most important of all Free China's
coastal holdings.

The newspapers call this island Quemoy. It was here that
two American officers were killed on September 3rd, 1954.
Around this island war and rumors of war have swirled for
months.

But the Chinese know it as Kinmen, which means "The
Golden Gate" and tradition-conscious Chinese attach great
significance to the name. For although unknown to the west
ern world until suddenly thrust upon the front pages, Kin-
men is of great historical importance to China. Three cen
turies ago one of China's great generals, the pirate Koxinga,
launched from Kinmen an attack which drove the Dutch from
Formosa. His fleet of 7,000 war vessels was the greatest ever
assembled.

Today Kinmen, or Quemoy, is again a staging area but this
time for advance westward across the narrow waters that sep-

16

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

arate it from China's mainland. From it have been launched
major guerrilla raids and upon it the enemy has poured an
estimated 50,000 artillery shells. It is an incredibly crowded
seventy square miles, supporting a population of 41,000 civil
ians and 75,000 troops and guerrillas.

For Free China Kinmen has become a symbol of hope, the
Golden Gateway for triumphant return to the mainland. For
Americans it has become another spot for uneasy wondering,
an island constantly in the news, always called by a strange
name, and described in unrecognizable terms.

The United Press described it as a "sand spit" its interior
as flat. Time magazine stated that it covers 85 square miles
but the U. S. News and World Report gave its area as 57
square miles. On different days, by different writers it is seven
miles, ten miles, fifteen miles from the mainland.

The National Security Council, highest strategy body of the
United States Government, has met in extraordinary special
session to discuss the little island which is so variously de
scribed. John Foster Dulles flew to Formosa to ponder its de
fense.

Senator William Knowland has demanded that the island
be defended. Senator Charles Potter of Michigan says that it
should not be defended. For, according to him, "it is only
lightly defended" as it is. Senator Kuchel of California made
a speech about Kinmen Island, calling it a ^foolish" island
with a name he couldn't even spell. And of course the ubiqui
tous Drew Pearson has devoted several inches of his precious
space to explaining its significance.

Captain Chang Yi Ming, commanding Kinmen's (Que-
moy) most exposed position on Tungting Island would not
have understood all the fuss, perhaps would not even have
been able to recognize Kinmen as described by American war
correspondents.

However, the importance of this island cannot be under
stood in terms of square miles, of distance from the mainland,

17

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

or even in terms of the number of fighting men who defend
it. It can only be understood if it is visited and seen, if one
talks to its soldiers, its guerrillas, its civilians. For Kinmen
can indeed be Free China's Golden Gate, can affect the fu
ture of all Chinese, free and enslaved, indeed can affect the
future of all Asia.

Kinmen Island, in short, must be seen to be believed. It is
more than an island. It is an idea and an ideal; in its future
are wrapped the hopes and fears of millions. It was my privi
lege last December to visit Kinmen, and beyond it, to visit
Tungting, Leihyu, Ta-tang, Erh-tang, and Matsu the other
bits of land, other "foolish" islands with unpronounceable
names, around which Free China pins its hopes. I traveled
by sampan and gunboat and junk, by jeep and by foot. I ate
and slept and talked with the men who have staked their
futures on the Golden Gate. And even I, who was born upon
the coast near Kinmen, who had spent years among the is
lands, was unprepared for what I saw.

On the day before I left Formosa for Kinmen and guerrilla-
land I filed a story which began: "Tomorrow I shall be on the
very edge of the civilized world, on the China Coast, within
a few miles of Communist armies. My undertaking will be
dangerous. . . . The China Coast is not a pleasant place in
winter. In the twilight war that rages along the coast one
can never be safe. There are spies and counterspies. Men are
betrayed or quickly killed in the darkness. ... If I am lucky,
I shall be eating the meager fare of the Coastsoft rice mixed
with sweet potatoes, pickled jellyfish, or dried fish."

I wrote honestly, for I did not know much more about Kin-
men than Senators Potter and Kuchel, or even (though I hesi
tate to make such a confession! ) than Drew Pearson. I had
prepared myself for danger and hardship. I had expensive
medicines, for I expected to be far from medical help. I had
a sleeping bag, for I did not expect to find a bed. I warned
my wife not to worry if she did not hear from me for long

18

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

periods, for surely there would be no certain communications
from the China Coast!

Danger there was, and I found excitement too. But the real
story was not one of artillery duels and raids as much as of
unbelievable accomplishment and of contradictions, of the
hopes and fears of men who live within sight of their home
land, yet might as well be thousands of miles distant.

It is no misstatement to describe the island as being on the
very edge of the civilized world, the nearest Communist artil
lery positions just two thousand yards distant. Yet one travels
to the island in a regularly scheduled airliner. Once a week
a plane of General Claire Chennault's Civil Air Transport
makes the run. ( CAT also operates once weekly to the Ta-
Chen islands and twice monthly to Matsu. ) My plane was a
plush job, with uniformed attendant, stateside reading ma
terial and typical airline refreshments.

But Kinmen-bound travelers note certain immediate differ
ences between their trip and a run from New York to Wash
ington. The Kinmen run is not listed in the CAT schedules.
The exact hour of departure is shrouded in secrecy, is changed
a half dozen times. Once in the air and away from the friendly
coast of Formosa, the pilot begins an intricate flight pattern.
He must fly low to escape Communist radar, must follow ex
actly a flight pattern that is changed every day, must take
particular care as he circles to land on Kinmen's airstrip. The
airstrip lies just beyond the range of Amoy's Communist anti
aircraft batteries; a tiny error and the lumbering -46 would
be a sitting duck for the trigger-happy gunner who dumped
thousands of shells upon the island in the fall of 1954.

And of course as the plane approaches the China Coast
there is the hazard of enemy air attack. Unarmed, unescorted,
any attack would be fatal. Even engine failure and ditching
in an unfriendly sea could be disastrous.

These thoughts were going through my mind as I watched
the smoky blue mountains of mainland China rise from the

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

haze. Our plane was crowded: agricultural experts and gov
ernment officials; guerrilla leaders, returning after special
training on Formosa; a few Chinese army wives, their chil
dren who roamed the aisles as do children anywhere. There
was no hint of anxiety on the part of anyone. But I was un
easy.

The plane's copilot came into the cabin, sensed my unrest
and sat beside me. We talked first of his work. Still a young
man, he had ten years of flying, had taken part in most of
the spectacular ventures which have become commonplace
to the men who fly for CAT: supplying beleaguered National
ist garrisons during the last days on the mainland, evacuating
cities surrounded by the enemy, flying Nationalist guerrillas
out of Burma, dropping supplies to the men of Dienbienphu.
All this plus the flying of regular schedules throughout the
Far East make the men of CAT proud and unafraid. It is cer
tainly one of the world's most unusual airlines, deserving in
deed the motto on its schedules which says "The Orient's
Own," a tribute to the vision of the man who founded it.

"Why, this kind of thing is nothing to some of our jobs," the
copilot assured me. "There is really nothing to worry about.
Notice how low we are flying? That's to escape radar. And we
have radar stations of our own, on the guerrilla islands almost
up to Shanghai. Every ten minutes we pick up a coordinated
radar search report from all the stations. If all is clear, if there
are no enemy planes in the sky we are cleared to land during
the next fifteen minute period."

And there just fifteen minutes is the margin of safety
upon which the lives of my fellow passengers depended. It
did not seem much of a margin to me, though, for I had not
yet savored of the boundless faith of men like Captain Chang
Yi Ming on Tungting Island. Added to the fifteen minutes,
this faith has proved a sufficient margin for over 100,000 peo
ple to live and work and prosper and to keep their hopes
alive.

20

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

The signs of war become immediately apparent as the plane
circles over Kinmen's landing strip. The island is neither a
sand spit nor flat, as described by the United Press. Nor is
it lightly defended as stated by Senator Potter. Magnificent
beaches are marred by barbed wire; behind the barbed wire
are trenches, pillboxes. The mass of tumbled black rock that
rises over a thousand feet in the island's center is scarred by
military roads, trails, concrete lookout posts, machine gun
nests, artillery emplacements. And all around lies enemy ter
ritory: the radar-crested peak of Amoy three miles away; the
promontories which mark the southern and northern limits of
Amoy's spacious harbor reach out to encircle Kinmen, a giant
nut within the jaws of a giant nutcracker.

As our plane rolled to a stop, unloading crews quickly ap
peared, for no plane is allowed to stay long on the ground, a
tempting target for enemy attack. As I climbed down the lad
der to the ground a guerrilla general stepped forward to greet
me.

His first words, designed to make me feel safe, were: "Now
Mr. Caldwell, don't worry about the Communist artillery. It
is only the first shell that kills anyone here." And then he
added, as an afterthought, "You see, we have so many places
to hide."

For Communist shelling of China's Golden Gate did not
begin last August and September when what the newspapers
call "Quemoy's vest pocket war" broke into headlines. An es
timated fifty thousand Communist artillery shells have fallen
upon the island since it was first occupied by Chiang Kai
ShekY troops in 1949.

Kinmen is not a pretty place. Shaped like a huge dumb
bell, it is fifteen miles long, four miles wide at its narrowest
point. In summer it is lashed by typhoons, in winter by the
cold winds that rage through the Formosa straits. Mountains
scattered with huge black boulders rise to 1200 feet. Hun
dreds of acres of red and white clay hills are eroded into mini-

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

ature bad-lands. A few lovely beaches tempt the visitor until
he notes the grim warning "Beware, this area is mined." But
I soon forgot about Kinmen's ugliness in the surprises that
were in store for me.

It is twelve miles from the airstrip to Hopu, the island capi
tal, and I traveled a three-lane highway, the last three miles
paved. Magnificent lateral highways lead off to every nook
and cranny, a total of two hundred miles of all-weather high
ways. Soon after I left the airstrip I noticed a huge, modernis
tic building facing upon a beach. I found it to be a newly
completed 5oo-bed Chinese Army hospital.

I was surprised to notice a half dozen schools between the
airstrip and Hopu. Later I was to find that there are fifty-
three grade schools and one high school on Kinmen. Eighty-
six percent of the children are in school. When the Nationalists
occupied the island in 1949, there was one elementary school.

Little Kinmeners study a normal curriculum with two ex
ceptions: every child studies guerrilla tactics, and drills con
stantly; all children learn how to be lookouts, know how and
where to report suspicious movements upon the sea.

The hospital and Kinmen's miles of highways have been
built without aid of one piece of modern machinery. There
are no bulldozers, no road scrapers, no excavation equipment,
for these are luxuries Free China cannot afford. She has done
here as she did in building vast airfields during World War II;
used the one great resource she has, the hands and strong
backs of her people.

During my stay on Kinmen the ugliness of landscape was
forgotten as I noted with admiration the adaptiveness of this
people in solving crushing problems with the means and the
tools at hand.

Kinmen is, I am sure, the only place in the world where a
huge army is almost entirely billeted in civilian homes; where
every soldier attends agricultural classes and, when not sol-

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

dieting, is a farmer; where thousands of trees are planted by
the troops and are tended with a wondrous and tender care;
where the army operates an agricultural section in headquar
ters, on a par with our G-i, G-2 and 6-3; where there are agri
cultural officers at all levels, from army through division, on
down to company; where the guerrillas run a cigarette factory
and a wine distillery producing wine famous from Taipei to
Hong Kong.

On my first day on Kinmen I passed a tiny drug store and
out of curiosity entered to see what things besides powdered
tiger bones might be offered for sale. There was the same
brand of aureomycin with which I had equipped myself at
thirty-five cents a capsule, selling for less than a dime. My
fears for want of medical attention were unfounded, for in
addition to the $oo-bed Army hospital, there is a downtown
medical center for civilians, headed by a graduate of the Uni
versity of Texas.

My first night on Kinmen, dusty after miles of driving over
the island, I thought wistfully of a bath, wondering if I would
have to find some unmined beach and dunk myself in the win
try ocean. As if my thoughts had been read, a guerrilla orderly
popped up saying, in effect, ''Sir, your bath is ready."

I was led downstairs, into a spotlessly clean bathroom, with
flush toilets and huge tub. Clean towels were laid out, and on
the side of the tub was a bar of Palmolive soap!

I found no need of sleeping bag; for in my private room in
"The First Guest House of the Fukien Provincial Goverri-
ment-in-Exile," I slept upon a bed with clean sheets. I took
my meals in an adjoining room, cooked and served by guer
rilla orderlies, not magnificent but always of several courses
and always delicious.

Flowers bloomed in the quiet courtyard outside, neatly
trimmed hedges lined the walks. There was quiet and peace
in the air, a quiet and peace which in a few hours made one

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

forget the ever-heard mutter of heavy artillery, the bark of
machine guns, in the never-ending war that is waged across
the narrow waters separating Kinmen from the mainland.

The war across the waters had been unceasing for five
years, Kinmen coming upon its prominence largely because
of the unexpected results of the major battle in that war. In
1949 the forces of Free China reeled in defeat. City after city
fell to the Communist armies; time and again Nationalist
China's capital was moved until at last one move remained.
The island of Formosa, separated from the mainland by 120
miles of water, might become a place where demoralized lead
ers and soldiers could have a breathing spell. Perhaps on For
mosa the scattered remnants of Chiang Kai Shek's forces
could start building anew.

But moving a sizable army across the Formosa straits posed
problems. There was little shipping, and that which was avail
able must be protected and covered. On all the mainland of
China not one airfield remained in the control of Chiang's
beaten armies.

And so it was that the high command gave the order that
certain islands off the coast opposite Formosa must be occu
pied and held, to offer cover while tired men crossed to the
safety of Formosa. Kinmen was among those islands, espe
cially strategic because it lies off the harbor of Amoy, because
it is large enough in area to accommodate many troops, be
cause it is very close, not only to the mainland shore, but to
the nearest point on Formosa,

No one expected Kinmen to be held for long; that was not
even in the plan, if there were any real plans in Chiang's des
perate hours. Remnants of various armies, those of defeated
Tang En Po and of a half dozen other armies, crossed in junks
and rafts and wooden steamers. Once ashore on Kinmen, the
soldiers of Nationalist China did what little they knew how to
do. They dug trenches, they built little pillboxes, they strung
barbed wire along beaches, they planted a few mines. And

24

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

perhaps here and there a man prayed to his Buddhist, Chris
tian or Moslem God. For among the armies on Kinmen were
men from every province of China. They could not even speak
the language of the Kinmen islanders. And because time was
short and money shorter, no barracks could be built. Soldiers
of China, speaking a score of dialects moved in with the 41,000
islanders, most of whom even now speak only the dialect of
south Fukien. They have lived together since those dark days

But the breathing spell was short indeed. Even while Na
tionalist remnants still crossed to Formosa, the jubilant and
cocky Communists assembled their ships, briefed their lead
ers and began the assault upon Kinmen's western beaches. It
was October, 1949, the 25th day, when the first Communists
poured ashore near Mashan. They came first by the hundreds
and then by the thousands. Some were killed by mines, others
were delayed and tangled in trench and barbed wire. But
within hours the men of Mao had breached Kinmen's hastily
built defenses. Another typical Nationalist defeat seemed in
the making.

But camped on the hills and in the villages near Hopu was
an American-trained division, complete with tanks, labori
ously ferried over from the mainland. American-trained of
ficers were attached to that division. Here and there other
officers, men like little General Li Liang Yung, with long
American contacts, still had hope.

Orders went out to the American-trained division to attack.
Nationalist tanks lumbered forward, later Nationalist planes
came in from Formqsan fields. Other beaten, untrained Chi
nese foot soldiers were infected by the sudden surge and will
to fight. Charge after charge was made, thousands upon thou
sands of Communist soldiers died, or were wounded or cap
tured. But still the enemy came on, all through the night o
the 25th and the a6th of October. As fast as they came, they
were killed; for by now the Nationalist armies had become

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

suddenly invincible. The battle ended on the evening of the
26th.

I do not know how many Communists died in the battle
for Kinmen. The men who took part in the slaughter are justi
fiably proud. Some told me thirty thousand died, some only
nine thousand. But this I do know: the people who live in
the villages on Kinmen's western side have a peculiar prob
lem. Eight hundred wells are no longer usable, new ones have
been dug each year. For it was still warm that October, and
there were so many Communists dead that normal burial was
impossible. The dead were dumped into the wells and rocks
thrown upon their bodies. Today the wells remain sealed.

And in the center of Kinmen Island, surrounded by massive
black rock hills, is a lovely cemetery, kept green and clean.
In a memorial building a wall is inscribed with the names of
Chiang's men who died during those October days. There are
row after row of names, listed by rank, beginning with a ma
jor general, ending with the privates.

Kinmen is more than a military fortress, although for this
reason alone it invites Communist attack and explains the
Red boasts that it will soon be conquered. For also on
Kinmen is the government-in-exile of Fukien province; the
commanding general is concurrently the governor-in-exile of
Fukien and its 12,000,000 people. With him is a provincial
government staff, trained and ready to move across and take
over when and if "D" day comes. Already the reforms that
have strengthened Chiang's government on Formosa have
been transplanted to Kinmen,

Perhaps*evenmore significant, Kinmen, as a symbol that all
is not lost, has a particular importance for the millions of Chi
nese who live "overseas," in all the lands and islands of south
east Asia. The island has had but one export. For two centuries
its young^men have gone forth to seek their fortunes in Ma
laya, Indonesia, Thailand and the Philippines. Over 100,000
overseas Chinese who claim Kinmen as their ancestral home

26

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

have already given the island defenders tremendous financial
and spiritual support. What happens on Kinmen may well de
termine what happens throughout Asia.

Of course the senators and other members of Congress who
speak of foolish and lightly fortified islands do not know these
things. The reasons for this lack of knowledge are part of the
story of Asia in the aftermath of Panmunjom and Geneva.

It is doubtful if the members of the National Security Coun
cil, responsible for advising the President on matters of na
tional security, know of Kinmen. For another part of the story
is that of American intelligence, adept at locating artillery
positions and able to ascertain the location and strength of
an enemy army, but not yet proficient at understanding psy
chological factors, the importance of a human export from a
tiny island.

Perhaps Americans can understand Kinmen if we can im
agine that our country has been defeated in war, our govern
ment pushed off the mainland of North America to exile in
Cuba, or Puerto Rico. Then imagine that somehow we have
been able to retain control of a few offshore islands, including
Staten Island. Enemy guns bristle along the Jersey coast, are
trained on the island; other guns pound it from the tip of Man
hattan, from Long Island. A vast fanatically-led army is poised
to strike, backed by airfields roaring with jet planes. Yet be
cause we would not give up, we have held our Staten Island,
supplying it with difficulty, using it for a base of operations,
as a listening post, as a demonstration to those living on the
mainland that the American way of life is not dead.

With this comparison in mind it is possible perhaps for
Americans to understand a little of life on China's Golden
Gate, around which war has been raging, which may quite
possibly be lost even before these words are in print.

For Kinmen Island, as strong as it is, can be taken if the
enemy wishes to stage all-out attack. The tragedy of Kinmen
is that, did we but understand its importance, it could be

27

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

saved, could perhaps become that Golden Gate about which
the Free Chinese wistfully talk and dream.

The night before I left Kinmen I sat in my room in "The
First Guest House of the Fukien Provincial Government-in-
Exile." Old family friends had joined with Kinmen officials in
a last bull session. Chang Chow, ex-general in Chiang's army,
now magistrate of Kinmen and responsible for many of the
good things accomplished there, was talking about his island.

"Kinmen is the West Berlin of the Orient," he said. "We
are surrounded by unfriendly seas, and we never forget that
the Communists are nearby. But there is one big difference
between our Berlin and Europe's Berlin. We have never had
anything like an airlift to keep us going. Indeed, our Berlin
is unrecognized and unknown to the Free world/*

Chapter 3

W mm/ T-OULD you like to see the 'battlefield' today?" Magis-
%^/ trate Chang Chow asked me one morning while I
f was still on Kinmen. It would have been most im
polite for me to have said no, regardless of personal interest.
For from Admiral and General down to private, the National
ists are proud of the last great battle in which their armies
were victorious.

So it was that we traveled north from Hopu by jeep, along
the magnificent north-south defense highway. We saw the
battlefield, the sealed wells, the shells of buildings hit and
never repaired. We visited also the defense works along all
the shore that faces directly upon the mainland.

From a hidden howitzer position under twenty feet of con
crete I watched Communist soldiers lounging on the beach
across the waters. I walked and rode on sunken roads and
pathways, made beautiful by the lovely flowers of the yellow
sesbania trees planted along the roads after the general had
read about them in Harvest magazine, published by the XL S.
Information Service in Formosa.

There were few men in the great concrete works along the
beaches. I asked General Chen what would happen if there
were a sudden attack. How could he get his men into position
quickly? For I had noticed that the regulars and guerrillas
of Kinmen were short on motor transport.

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

"Come," said the General. "Ill show you how I can move
my whole division into position in twenty minutes."

We walked a hundred yards. There I saw a doorway and
steep steps. The General apologized because there was no
electricity. At the steps' bottom was a concrete boulevard,
lighted dimly here and there from hidden vents far above.

"You are forty feet underground now," the General told
me. It would take a direct hit from a very heavy gun or bomb
to harm anyone here."

We walked for a long way, with light gradually brightening
ahead. There were more steps, and suddenly the brightness
of sunlight again. I do not know how far we had traveled un
derground. I do know that we were now in a village, the vil
lage where the General's division was quartered.

Perhaps General Chen exaggerated when he said he could
move his men to the front in twenty minutes. But he certainly
could move quickly and in safety.

I expressed frank amazement, I marveled at what I had
seen that day. General Chen was grateful for my interest. As
we parted he said, "Mr. Caldwell, you have still not seen our
real strength. I It lies not in these concrete positions, in my
sunken roads, my underground supply line. It lies in the spirit
of the men, soldiers and civilians. That is our real strength on
Kinmen."

Is it not strange that America, which speaks so loudly of
the brotherhood of free men, should devote so much praise
to the men and women of Berlin, while the men and women
of Kinmen lie somehow outside the pale? Is it because these
people are of a different color, of different cultural heritage?
So it must seem perhaps, to men like General Chen.

I saw increasing evidence of the spirit of which General
Chen was so proud during the rest of my stay on Kinmen
and its neighboring islands. I saw increasing evidence that
the Free Chinese have not only spirit, but an ability to meet
difficult problems in a unique manner.

30

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

I could begin to understand the amazement of a forestry
expert who had visited Kinmen shortly before I arrived, who
said to me: "Why such care of trees has never been known in
the history of tree culture! After a rain the whole landscape
is filled with soldiers and guerrillas, working the soil, tend
ing the trees with all the care we would lavish on the rarest
flowers."

From general on down, Kinmen's defenders keep them
selves engaged in a prodigious variety of projects. Reforesta
tion of Kinmen's eroded hillsides is but a part of the work
(3,700,000 seedlings planted in 1954). The planting of trees
provides work, keeps the soil in place and eventually will pro
vide camouflage. However, other strange activities, having a
more direct bearing upon daily living, have been necessitated
by difficulties of communication and supply, the certainty of
eventual Communist attack.

Ta-tang and Erh-tang are two small islands in Amoy's outer
harbor. Under the muzzles of Communist guns, the islands
can only be reached by night. There are two thousand troops
crowded on Ta-tang's cliffy heights, for the island is impor
tant. Communist shipping entering or attempting to enter
Amoy harbor can be easily spotted, reported, attacked. Three
years ago the commanding general told the Ta-tang com
mander that his men must grow as much food as possible, and
so one sees tiny vegetable patches in every nook and cranny,
sometimes practically hanging from the walls of the cliffs.
And everywhere, too, one sees chickens.

In an effort to solve his food problem the commanding of
ficer had brought a few chickens over. For reasons I could not
ascertain, the chickens flourished. They laid eggs bountifully,
reproducing in such numbers that chickens seemed always
available for the pot.

I talked to a young private from Ta-tang, asking him how
long he had been stationed on the lonely island.

a Nearly three years," he replied.

31

STILL THE BICE GROWS GREEN

"Of course you are rotated, or you get leave sometimes,
don't you?" I asked. It seemed inconceivable that any soldier
would stay on the island for three years and not lose his mind.

"No, sir, I have had no leave." And then sensing my amaze
ment he added: "I like it here."

To my further questions he said, quite simply, "You see I
like chicken very much.'*

However on Kinmen it takes more than chickens to solve
the economic problems created by 75,000 fighting men super
imposed upon 41,000 civilians who, themselves, have a hard
time making ends meet. Kinmen has always been poor. It
lacks water for rice production; most of its surface is made
up of rocks, red clay, sandy wastes.

And so it was that the armies on Kinmen became the only
modern armies to have an agricultural section in headquar
ters. When he is not fighting or training, the guerrilla or sol
dier farms or learns to farm. Agricultural classes are held in
every section, on even the smaller islands. Civilian and soldier
study together; farm shoulder to shoulder. Hundreds of acres
of waste land have been reclaimed and are now dotted with
the vegetable crops of the soldiers.

It is a common sight to see soldiers and farmers working
adjacent fields, attending the same agricultural classes and
demonstrations. And surely the Kinmen soldiers are the only
fighting men in the world belonging to 4~H clubs!

Near Hopu there is an agricultural experiment station, op
erated by the army and under the direction of a fellow towns
man of mine. Chen Shi Ho, a graduate of one of China's best
universities, has traveled a long way from his home in nearby
Foochow. Many years ago his family moved to North China.
He attended a university in Peiping and was just finishing
when the Japanese invaded China. Mr. Chen is one of the
millions of Chinese whose patriotism has been forgotten in
the rush of stories about those who went over to the Japa
nese, to the Communists, to any new master.

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

His government refugeed far into the interior and Mr. Chen
followed, From Peiping he traveled by rail to Shanghai. Then
by ship he moved on, ever under the suspicion of the Japa
nese, to Hong Kong. From Hong Kong he worked his way
to Indo-China, thence across the jungles into Yunnan prov
ince, thence back eastward to take up the job his government
had for him in an experiment station in China's Southwest.

Then, when the mainland fell, Chen's travels started again.
From Southwest China he went to Chungking, then back
down to Shanghai, which had already fallen. It was impos
sible to reach Formosa from Shanghai; so Chen walked south
ward some thousand-odd miles to the Hong Kong boundary.
Like thousands of other Free Chinese, he slipped across the
border to freedom, to a job with the governmentand now
to Kinmen within a few miles of his birthplace.

The problems that face Mr. Chen and his Chinese army
agricultural experiment station are difficult ones. How can
more food be coaxed from the sterile soil? What new seed
varieties are needed, can thrive on Kinmen? How to get more
water on an island that has no real stream, where many wells
are sealed with the bodies of enemy dead?

Sometimes ancient superstition makes agricultural progress
difficult indeed. The Chinese love pork, and that is true of
men in or out of uniform. Kanmen's hog population, never
large, was cut down with disease, caused by too much in
breeding. And so it was that one day, through the generosity
of Uncle Sam, a strange passenger debarked from one of Gen
eral Chennaulfs ubiquitous planes. A giant Berkshire boar
had arrived to bring new blood and many piglets to Kinmen,

But neither Mr, Chen nor the American experts back on
Formosa had reckoned with an ancient Kinmen custom. When
there is a death in the family, little Kinmeners wear white
shoes in mourning. Berkshire hogs have white feet.

Obviously there was bad business. The siring of white-
footed piglets could only bring bad luck.

33

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

And so for a long time the Berkshire led a lonely life. But
time and patience can wonders perform. Mr. Chen bred the
Berkshire to experiment station sows. He kept very interest
ing charts, showing how much more they weighed than less
blooded strains given the same amount of food.

Soon farmers began to take notice; one after another began
to break with superstition.

I met the Berkshire boar one day, while Chen Shi Ho and
I were visiting agricultural projects. The boar was traveling
down the highway in a wheeled cart.

Jokingly Chen said: "There goes the luckiest male on Kin-
men. He has the highest travel priority. He goes forth pulled
in a cart, or even by boat. He has visited and is allowed to go
to islands where I have never been. That boar has not only
a life of travel but of varied female conquests!"

But for human males, life on Kinmen is neither traveled
nor varied. The guerrillas, because of special training needed,
because of secrecy involved in operations, are being moved
into barracks as such can be built. The men of the regular
army, however, still live, as they did when Kinmen was first
occupied, with the civilians of the island.

Imagine if you will, your home city, garrisoned with troops
from a dozen different lands and living in your very homes!

I visited in many Chinese homes on Kinmen and in most
of them twelve soldiers lived. At first the soldiers had a diffi
cult time. Inevitably there was friction. The Kinmeners could
not speak Mandarin, or Cantonese or the Shanghai dialect.
Suddenly alien men, speaking these and other dialects, were
thrust into their homes.

Mrs. Li, living in a little village on Kinmen's eastern shore,
comes from my home town; I could visit with her, could hear
her story. Her living room is no longer a living room, Twelve
soldiers sleep there, six on a side facing the ancient ancestral
tablets. The soldiers sleep on the floor. All furniture has been
removed, for there is no room for chairs and tables in a room

34

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

i

where twelve men must live. And too, always ready for in
stant use, tommy guns hang on the walls above each bed. In
one corner there is a mortar. In the center, between the two
neat rows of pallets on the floor are ammunition boxes. And
especially incongruous in the ancient house, an army field
telephone hangs from the wall in one corner. For the men who
live in Mrs. Lfs home must be always on call.

Perhaps a figure or two will show just how crowded the Li
home is. The average housing space per person on Kinmen
is eight square feet. My family of four, living in a modest
suburban home, enjoy 125 square feet each. And we con
sider ourselves crowded, have spent many a Sunday afternoon
house-shopping.

"How in the world do you get along here?" I asked.

Mrs. Li did not gloss over her problems.

"We had a hard time at first," she told me. "Most of our
boys are from the North. They could not understand us, nor
we them. There were problems about food, too." And then
she paused and pointed to the courtyard where a Chinese GI
was tossing her three-year old daughter in the air amidst much
giggling and merriment.

"But you can see now that we are friendsgood friends.
We all understand that as bad as it is here, it is much worse
over there." Then to explain a bit further, Mrs. Li added: "You
see my husband is a fisherman. Each day when the seas are
not too high he goes out to fish near Tungting. There he meets
with fishing boats from the mainland. He talks to those men
and women. Their lives are hard indeed!"

And that is perhaps why the Free Chinese have been able
to accomplish so much, in spite of difficulties because every
one knows what it is like "over there."

Men outnumber women on Kinmen by nearly ten to one,
yet there has been no case of rape in two years. Only a few,
the officers, can bring their wives to live with them. The Chi
nese are realistic: They have provided a giant house of prosti-

35

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

tution in Hopu, equipped with dispensary, full-time doctor,
reading room, ping pong tables and a nursery for the unfor
tunate mistakes that occur. I visited the house on a Sunday
afternoon. There are seventy-five girls there, but few were
busy. The price is cheap, thirty cents for an enlisted man, who
draws his partner by lot; seventy-five cents for the officer who
can make a face to face choice.

Yet even though it was a Sunday, as near an off-day as
the men of Free China have, there were few patrons, no mad
rush to the flesh pots. Men come to the "white faces" to be
sure; and the girls are even taken to outlying islands. But I
could not but feel that this was no great part of Kinmen's
life.

Fighting and training, farming, road building, planting
trees on Kinmen's barren hillsides keep men busy. For their
free time, there are basketball courts, tiny reading rooms and
PX*s. Mobile units show motion pictures at night in villages
and in the country. The men keep busy, terribly busy, and
their free time is filled with simple pleasures.

But the reason why there is little friction where vast trouble
could be expected, why lives are disciplined is because, like
Mrs. Li who puts up with a dozen permanent guests, the peo
ple know what it is like "over there." Not only can the beaches
and mountains of mainland China be seen from Kinmen. The
face of the enemy is clearly visible. And spirits are high be
cause beneath that face feet of clay are clearly showing.

Chapter 4

I FIRST saw the physical face of the enemy from a gun posi
tion on Liehyu, or Little Kinmen Island, which lies off
the southwestern tip of Big Kinmen. From Liehyu s south
ern end other little islands stand out like stepping stones across
the mouth of Amoy Harbor. Chief of these are Ta-tang and
Erh-tang, the islands where the soldiers enjoy chicken every
day. Ta-tang can be loosely translated as "The Big Little Is
land"; neighboring Erh-tang is "The Second Little Island"
Then there are several more "tangs'-Little Tang, Third Tang,
even Fourth Tang. All are garrisoned by men of Free China-
all look out upon the enemy, all are under easy artillery range
from Amoy's major batteries.

It was a hazy day, and the general who commands the di
vision on Liehyu and all the Tangs thought it might be safe
for me to visit the advance outposts,

"If visibility were very good," he told me, "I could not al
low you to go to the advance posts. Those Reds are trigger
happy. We never know when they will shoot. If they saw any
thing at all unusual, they might let go/'

I could very well understand what the general meant. Every
village in Liehyu is battered and scarred, roofs gone here,
gaping holes in the walls there. I noticed too, that the houses
of Liehyu had no doors or windows on the Amoy side. These

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

had all been filled with rocks, so providing a little protection
from shell fragments.

As we drove over Liehyu (for even this tiny island, ten
square miles in area, has its highway system) with the gen
eral whose name is also Chen, he told me that he had once
commanded an armored division on the mainland. He has
armor still, a few ancient tanks. But he confided that as far
as other motor transport was concerned, the three jeeps in
our caravan, plus three trucks was it.

"And on any given day I can count on at least two of the
trucks not running," he added wryly.

But fortunately distances are short, the troops are billeted
with the villagers, and when Liehyu is attacked, its defend
ers will not have far to move.

The last few hundred yards were crossed on foot, as it
would be unsafe to drive within full view of Amoy. Three
jeeps in a line would provide a tempting target. So we slipped
single file through waist-high grass, entered a tunnel and
emerged in a gun position overlooking the magnificent pan
orama of Amoy Harbor.

Across from me, startlingly close through the field glasses,
a Communist soldier relaxed against a rock near the radar
tower which sits upon the crest of Amoy Peak.

Far below I noticed a small group of Communist soldiers,
lined up on the beach, stiffly at attention. An officer stood
before them, and I could imagine the pompous words that
might be coming from his lips. Suddenly the whole group
melted into the landscape.

It was a peaceful scene, water calm, air motionless. Five
hundred yards away, in a watery no-man's land, on one of
the smaller Tangs completely ringed with concrete pillboxes,
Nationalist guerrillas walked about, or fished from the top of
their fortress perch.

Suddenly the calm water broke into a froth, as if a school
of fish were jumping in precise line; moments later came the

38

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

ripping chatter of a machine gun burst, the sound delayed
across two miles of water.

A non-commissioned officer in our lookout position made
a few notations in his log: "Communist machine gun fire across
the sea; no damage, no casualties, fire not returned."

Farmers, working in their cabbage patches below us hardly
raised their heads.

Thus I came closest to the actual physical presence of the
Communists who rule the land of my birth. But I saw his real
face a hundred times: on gunboat patrol, when I interviewed
captured crewmen of a junk out of Amoy; from scores of
refugees, from guerrillas back from mainland assignment;
from the few letters that come across, from leaflets washed
across one day in tiny bamboo tubes and picked up on Kin-
men^ beaches.

And the face of China's rulers is frightened and weak.
Tyranny and torture have backfired, have not been enough
to shatter the will and morale of the people. I cannot claim
to have walked the streets of Shanghai and Peiping and Can
ton as did Clement Atlee. I cannot verify Mr. Atlee's finding
that Communist efficiency and good government have even
eradicated all the flies from the mainland.

However, though I do not know of the fly population, I can
report one bit of information Mr. Atlee and his friends missed.
I have been told by reliable witnesses that there are no dogs
on the mainland. On Kinrnen, on Liehyu and on Matsu there
are dogs; they howl at the moon; they roam the streets, are
loved and petted by the children.

But just across the waters is a dogless land. For the Com
munists consider the dog a typically capitalistic pet, not able
to work, consuming food that should be consumed only by
those who contribute to the people's society. I pass on my
observation about the dogs, not because the presence or ab
sence of dogs is of great import. As a matter of fact, I know
there is at least one dog in China. Children are taken to the

39

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

zoo in Chengtu, so that they may see this capitalistic creation.
And I report on the dogs merely because it is an interesting
bit of information, one of the less important differences in
the villages of Free China and those on the mainland.

Regardless of reports on the fly or dog population, there
is increasing evidence that the Communist giant has feet of
clay, the most convincing evidence coming from the Com
munists themselves.

One day I received a briefing at guerrilla headquarters. As
Chinese are wont to do in naming organizations, they have
given the Kinmen guerrillas a flowery designation; the Pa
triotic Anti-Communist Liberation Army of South Fukien.

The guerrilla general and his aide had maps and charts to
explain their operations, But most interesting was a series
of captured Communist documents. There were Red intel
ligence reports, letters and diaries, wanted posters offering
rewards for mainland guerrillas. Some were old, others had
come into Nationalist hands within the past weeks and
months.

One document, a mimeographed Communist intelligence
report on Fukien province, stated that during the past year
there had been some 5,000 military engagements in the prov
ince. Another booklet, prepared as a guide for anti-sabotage
units, complained bitterly of the fact that "the people of
Fukien seem uneducated and unfriendly; they give food to
the guerrillas who hide in the mountains by day and attack
us by night."

I was interested in the reports on my home province. How
could it be that there had been 5,000 guerrilla-Communist
engagements in one province, within the space of one year?
I asked the general if this were not a mistake.

"Yes, in a way," he answered. "We do not have enough
active and organized guerrillas to have been engaged in that
number of battles. What this means is that villagers, peasants,

40

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

fishermen just plain people have been fighting the Reds at
every turn."

Later from fishermen, from guerrillas just back from main
land assignment, I heard of the hatred which gives the rulers
of China reason to complain about the "unfriendly" attitude
of the people. There are vast sections of coastal China, moun
tainous areas of Fukien, Chekiang and Kwangtung where the
Communists do not even attempt to maintain control. There
are other areas where no Communist official can travel with
out guard, where even a small unit of troops is liable to attack.
In nearly every city it is unsafe for officials and soldiers to be
abroad at night.

The 5,000 Fukien engagements reported by the Commu
nists included actual military contacts, attacks and murders
of officials, just plain bushwhacking that goes on constantly.
Guerrillas are often engaged; just as often peasants and vil
lagers, sick with hatred, strike out blindly at a small Red unit,
at a lightly guarded Communist official.

The Communist press itself admits evidence of increasing
difficulties. During the summer and fall of 1954 the Com
munist press moaned about the continued activities of "re
actionary elements." A force of 140,000 to 150,000 well trained
and organized guerrillas were reported active in Kwangtung
Province. Authorities in Yunnan, in China's Southwest, com
plained that it had been necessary to kill over 200,000 reac
tionary and dissident elements during a one year period.

Another news story told of efforts of Communists in the
Yangtse Valley to organize vast "tiger" hunts. Special recog
nition was offered for loyal comrades who could take part in
controlling these savage beasts. The interesting point to this
story is that the Yangtse Valley is one part of China in which
tigers are rare. It seems obvious that, in peculiar double talk,
the Red authorities were attempting to drum up interest in
an anti-guerrilla campaign.

41

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

The Communists rarely speak of guerrillas, seem loathe to
admit that they are faced with opposition of trained men,
operating under military discipline. More often the Commu
nist press and radio talk of "dissident" elements, "reaction
aries," uneducated peasants. But in so doing they admit a
grave weakness. For a regime that cannot control its farmers
cannot maintain control of the country. From the very begin
ning the Chinese Reds have aimed their biggest propaganda
guns at China's rural population; their greatest initial suc
cesses were achieved because their promises of rural and land
reform were attractive.

Yet it is among the peasants in South China that the Reds
are meeting the greatest resistance. Thousands of farmers
have quit the land, going into the mountains to join guerrilla
units. Land reform has backfired, peasants everywhere are
finding themselves so harrassed by additional taxes, special
levies, food collections that they speak longingly of the "good
old days" under the Nationalists.

Communist propaganda often labels Chiang Kai Shek "that
bandit Chiang." And all along the China Coast there is a wry
saying: "Bring back that bandit Chiang!"

Peasant revolt has taken concrete and sometimes dramatic
form. During the fall of 1953, again in 1954, &e peasants of
Fukien and Kwangtung provinces rebelled against the Com
munist Government's effort to control prices and production.
Tons upon tons of the precious cabbage crop were dumped
into the creeks and rivers rather than be sold at government
prices. Rice is held out, hidden so that the government agri
cultural people cannot collect it. Farmers sometimes harvest
in the dead of night hoping thus to keep the amount of their
yield secret. Acres of land once in production lie idle, because
farmers either refuse to till it or are no longer there to till it.

As I traveled among the guerrilla islands from Tungting
northward, I heard over and over again an expression in my
native Foochow dialect that best expresses the plight of the

42

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

people of China. Rendered phonetically it is "Ki-kwee, Ki-
kwee" and it means "very miserable." I talked to a family on
Matsu Island, just over from the mainland city of Santuo.

"How are you getting along over here?" I asked.

"We are miserable. My husband was killed by the Com
munists. My son is a guerrilla, and he must support six of
us," was the reply.

"But if you are so ki-kwee here, why did you come over?"

Quickly the reply came. "Oh, but we were really ki-kwee
over there," the Chinese woman explained. "Here at least we
can eat. We can buy a few things. We can talk freely. We can
go to the market freely."

"And what is it like over on the Tai-lu [mainland] ?" I asked.

"For those who have work, there is just barely enough to
eat. For those who do not have work there is only that which
can be taken from the streams or the fields. To buy a suit of
clothes requires the earnings of a year."

Father Linus Lombard of Massachusetts, coming out of
Red China during the summer of 1954 reported that "there
is systematic starvation for those who do not belong to the
Party." I found ample evidence from coastal refugees to sup
port his statement. For those who have work there is food,
just enough to live on. For those who are not favored, there
is systematic starvation. Ration cards are denied. Travel is im
possible, so a family cannot openly move elsewhere to find
work. Indeed so stringent are travel regulations along the
coast that one cannot even spend the night other than under
one's own roof without a special pass and permission.

While visiting one guerrilla island I learned of an old family
friend, of the efforts made to break his will and body. It is a
typical story, worth telling because it also illustrates one of
the problems faced by China's Red masters.

I shall call the man Dr. Chen, which is not his real name.
He has attended two of America's best known universities.
For years he served as head of a famous Christian institution

43

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

in China. He was beloved by Christians and non-Christians.
Government officials sought his advice; the little people on
the street considered him their friend.

But since Dr. Chen was a Christian, had studied in the
United States, was widely known as pro-American, he was
considered an enemy of the People's government. However
the Communists were afraid to kill the doctor, for his influ
ence after death might be even greater than while he lived.
So they imprisoned him. He was beaten, tortured and brain
washed. After months of imprisonment it was reported that
Dr. Chen was dead; but soon there was talk among the peo
ple, talk which frightened the authorities. And so Dr. Chen
was released, broken physically but still alive and still in pos
session of his soul and mind.

Dr. Chen is a Ph.D. He speaks three or four languages, can
converse brilliantly on almost any subject. But he has refused
to take part in government programs, will not teach in a Com
munist school, refuses to recant. Afraid to kill him, the au
thorities are now attempting to starve him.

Dr. Chen is now a goat herder in the hills of central China.
He sells a little milk to the poor, occasionally butchers one of
his goats. He has refused as yet to be starved. He is a living
rebuke to the regime, a symbol of hope to thousands who
know his story. The Communists are caught in a trap. As long
as Dr. Chen lives, there will be many who will not believe the
anti- American campaign. If he should die there will be many
who will not forget what Dr. Chen stood for,

It is, in part, because of men like Dr. Chen that the Com
munist attack against the United States has sadly backfired,
has contributed to the rising tide of opposition against the
regime. The anti-American theme runs through all the prop
aganda broadcasts, the leaflets, the special indoctrination
courses, the news gatherings where Red functionaries inter
pret the day's or the week's news for the people. During 1953
and 1954 the main theme was America's defeat in Korea. I

44

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

read Communist leaflets floated over to Kinmen in tiny bam
boo boats. One leaflet was devoted to a statistical breakdown
of American losses, the number of tanks, guns, ships and men.
The theme ended upon a plaintive note: Why do you ally
yourself with imperialistic America which has already been
defeated?

The men of Chiang who defend the guerrilla islands are
undoubtedly puzzled by some of "imperialistic" America's ac
tions but they know that America is not as yet defeated. The
people of the mainland may also be puzzled. But when they
hear stories of American brutality, of pilots who drop germs,
they remember also the Dr. Chens of China, who brought
back learning and progress from the United States. The peo
ple of Coastal China have seen America's best face; they can
neither believe that she is defeated or corrupt. And if their
masters insist on linking this America with Chiang Kai Shek,
perhaps Chiang will yet win out; for among the old and
uneducated there still is a deep seated belief in America's
strength and goodness.

The Communists have not been able to supplant America
with Russia. While it is foolish as yet to hope that the Red
Government has shown any indication of breaking with Mos
cow, among the common people there is a loathing of Rus
sians, a hatred that surpasses anything in China's history.

Matsu Island is not far from Foochow where a considerable
group of Russian technical experts is stationed. The Russians
are universally spoken of as the "Tai-taos" the big heads.
Originally billeted within the city, they have now been moved
to an airfield on Nantai Island. They are not allowed to go
about the city freely because there have been too many un
pleasant incidents. The Russian advisors live in virtual isola
tion from the people they are supposed to help.

I talked one day to the crew of a fishing junk, out that morn
ing from Amoy. They spoke of all the things so much in the
minds of Chinese: the difficulties of getting enough to eat,

45

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

the impossibility of buying consumer goods any more, the
police restrictions. I asked finally if Russians were living in
Amoy.

The grizzled old Captain answered me, speaking with such
loathing and disgust as I have never heard from a Chinese.

"Yes/' he answered. "There are 'Tai-taos* in Amoy. And
only last week I saw Russian women. That is a terrible thing,
to see Russian women in China. For if they bring their women
it must mean that they will stay a long time."

The Communists, so clever in many ways, are becoming
desperate and making mistakes. From the mainland they wage
a ceaseless propaganda war against the Chinese on the guer
rilla islands. Leaflets are sent over, loud speakers blare of the
Utopia waiting to be enjoyed by the persecuted people living
tinder Chiang Kai Shek's imperialistic regime. But then tac
tics are suddenly changed.

A People's court will be held on the beach in full view of a
guerrilla-held island. Loud speakers announce the name of the
victim, and it is usually a person with relatives living on the
island within earshot.

The court proceedings, finally the execution, are held so
that the Free Chinese can see and hear. That this alternating
of brutality with promises of life in paradise does not make
sense never occurs to the Communists. Such proceedings do
not cause Nationalists to desert, but merely add to the grow
ing hatred that fills all Chinese who have seen the face of the
enemy.

Father Lombard and the other Catholic missionaries who
came out of Red China in 1954, believe that the vast majority
of the people would welcome a Nationalist invasion. As Father
Lombard put it, "they cannot wait until the day of that in
vasion comes.'*

There can be little question but the vast majority of the
people south of the Yangtse will whole-heartedly support the
Nationalists. Disaffection even reaches throughout the ranks

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

of the Communist armies, especially the locally-recruited and
trained Security Forces responsible for guerrilla fighting and
defense of much of the coast.

Shortly after the first anti-Communist Chinese prisoners of
war arrived from Korea, a group was taken to Kinmen. The
group visited Liehyu Island and one by one, began to tell
their experiences, speaking over loud speakers from the very
same lookout post I visited.

Magistrate Chang Chow who was present that day told me
of the remarkable drama that took place.

"As the POW's began to speak," Chang Chow told me, "a
strange thing happened. One by one we could see Communist
soldiers leave their trenches, their gun positions, their posts
at the radar station. Soon there were soldiers visible from the
beach to the top of the peak. They listened in obvious rapt at
tention as they heard the stories of their estwhile comrades.

"Suddenly we saw a cloud of dust on the highway from
Amoy City. A Russian jeep roared up, Communist officers
jumped out. Of course no one could hear what words were
spoken. But I can tell you there was a lot of arm waving; there
must have been a lot of shouting.

"It took those officers ten minutes to get their men back
into position. As one who has been a commanding general, I
can imagine the fear that must have been in the hearts of the
Communist officers. And I could not but wonder what would
happen if one of our raiding parties should strike at a time
like that."

After five years the Communist government that was at
least tacitly welcomed by the majority is now cordially hated.
Executions, torture, brutality have become liabilities yet must
be used to keep the people in check. Fanners hate the govern
ment because they have less than at any time in their unhappy
history. The landowners hate the government, those who are
still alive, because they have been robbed and ridiculed. The
merchants hate the government because their meager earn-

47

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

ings are taken, either in direct taxes or in the interminable
"loan" and bond drives from which they cannot escape. The
soldiers are beginning to hate the government because, as one
young prisoner of war told me, "I became sick of useless blood
shed, of seeing the good people of my own village, even some
of my relatives, tortured and ridiculed and executed."

It is useless, as sometimes is attempted, to define in per
centage, the opposition of mainland people to their govern
ment. I have heard it said that ninety per cent of the people
of mainland China would support any liberation army; others
tell me that seventy-five per cent would be a more accurate
figure. Mainland opposition varies according to geography
and length of Communist rule. Given long enough time the
Reds seem able to break the will to resist. Even the National
ist government admits there are no guerrillas in Honan prov
ince, long under Communist rule. Certainly opposition is
great south of the Yangtse Valley, and this is where Free
China will have to strike should it some day be allowed to
attempt a return to the mainland.

It is from Shanghai southward that the Red rulers face
their greatest problems, and it is this that the Free Chinese
call their "invasion coast." There are reasons why the coastal
Chinese have been slow to appreciate the benefits of the Peo
ple's government. South China has been under Communist
rule for a shorter period than the north; its people are more
volatile, more inclined to fight back. South China has been
the cradle of revolutions, has sent forth its adventurous sons
to populate all the nations of Asia. South China has produced
pirates and smugglers, among whom General Koxinga, who
once made Kinmen his base, was the greatest.

South China also was the cradle of Christian endeavor, and
this too has a bearing on the spirit and resistance of the peo
ple. One day I talked with a refugee family from Futing, a
city in northern Fukien province. We spoke in the Foochow
dialect, and I heard in terms I could understand the story of
48

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

one family's escape. The husband had been killed and it was
the wife who told me of their experiences, in particular of the
reasons they left Futing.

"Our children were forced to go to Communist schools/*
the woman began her story. "Or if the government so decided,
they had to work. We had so little food that the children were
ill. We could not travel anywhere and my husband made his
living as a traveling tailor, visiting the hill villages around
Futing. But even to spend one night away from home he had
to have a special permit which required days to get. We be
came sick of torture, of killings. We were always afraid of a
visit from the secret police for they suspected my husband of
evil things just because he had traveled much."

And then, exhausted by her long speech, the woman from
Futing added: "And for over a year we were not allowed to go
to church."

That too, is part of the story of China, a story of religious
people, Christian and Buddhist, and their fight against Mao's
Utopia. That fight has contributed to the fear on the enemy's
face, to the heaviness in his feet of clay.

49

Chapter 5

^-m /TISSIONAKY KIDS," we are often called, we who were
W I born of American parents in China, Korea, India or

_L ? JL Africa, our parents among the thousands of mission
aries who for over a century have served God in the far corners
of the world. Wars and revolution, frequent illness, gaps in
formal education this was part of our lot* But our heritage is
rich, impossible to forget. We who came from the good earth
of China have become the worst of the "Old China Hands," a
breed notorious for its ability to forget unpleasantness and
hardship, for its nostalgic longing to go back again.

But the Communists have accomplished what revolutions,
illness and hardship never did, Our parents have been driven
out of China. The work of a century and more is ended. And,
we wonder, of what good was all the sacrifice? Is there any
thing left of the foundation they built? Have the millions spent
by America, the pennies of Sunday School children, the dol
lars of the rich, the donations of foundations, have they all
gone for naught?

Such thoughts were in my mind when I went back to the
China Coast where my own family labored for a half century.
One day I flew in a lumbering PBY amphibian plane along
the coast so close that I could see Haitang Island, my father's
sea girt district where once there were over thirty prosperous

50

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

churches, a school and a hospital. "The most Christian spot
in China/ 3 father used to call Haitang. But that was ten years
ago. What of those churches, the school and the hospital to-
.day? Is there anything left of the spiritual impact of these
physical evidences of Christianity, an impact that once was
felt all along China's Coast?

I did not have time at first to seek out Christians, or even
to ask of church life on the guerrilla islands or on the main
land; for I was busy with visits to military installations, my
days filled with gunboat raids and interviews with the fasci
nating cross-section of all China that now lives on Kinmen.
But it was Christmas week, and one night after I had retired
early to my room in the Fukien Guest House I heard unmis
takably the sound of Christmas hymns, The singing came from
close by, an odd yet thrilling accompaniment to the distant
mutter of artillery.

The next day I visited the church that stood within two
blocks of the Guest House, began an exciting hunt for what
I call "the lost Christians of the China Coast/'

The pastor of the church was away in Formosa. I was able
that day to talk only to his wife, using an interpreter since
she spoke the Amoy dialect.

"Of what denomination is your church?" I asked.

The old lady seemed confused by my question. Her answer
was surprising. "I don't know what you mean," she replied.
"We are just Christians here."

The furnishings in the church gave no clue to denomina
tion. There were rude, hand-made benches, a simple pulpit
with a tiny wooden cross. In a corner was a stack of packing
cases, filled with recently arrived Bibles a gift of Madame
Chiang Kai Shek, the old lady told me.

News travels fast on a guerrilla island. Two days later five
young men called upon me. They addressed me as "reverend";
they made a startling request. I was asked to preach the ser-
moii, the next day.

5*

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

"But I am a newspaper man/' I explained. "My father was
a missionary here for many years. But I cannot preach. If I
could, my Chinese is not good enough."

The young men, two in business, one a civil servant, the
other an army dental officer, had heard that an American had
visited their church and presumed that I must be a missionary.

From the men I heard the story of Ho Pu church, learned
the location of other churches. The church I visited was built
in 1924, established by English missionaries of the Church of
England, now called the Church of Christ in China. Mission
aries had last visited Kinmen in 1947. By 1949, when Kinmen
was occupied by Nationalist troops in the retreat from the
mainland, church membership had dwindled to fifty. Today
the church has 350 members. Among the growing member
ship are men and women of four denominations, refugees
from the mainland. Mr. Shih, leader of the group calling on
me, is himself a Methodist from Foochow. Refugees from the
Dutch Reformed churches of southern Fukien, the Metho
dist churches throughout the province, the Congregational
churches in Changlo, Ingtai and far up the Min River, from
Baptist congregations in Kwangtung provinceall had gravi
tated to the Ho Pu church. Nominally Protestant Episcopal,
it has now become truly interdenominational. There was good
reason why the pastor's wife could not understand my talk of
denominationl

There is only one ordained minister on Kinmen Island. Yet
the church has grown in membership and influence, without
help from the outside world. Another little church which I
visited at Hsi Mi in the northern part of Kinmen is now con
sidered a branch of the Ho Pu church. Hsi Mi is within artil
lery range of the mainland. Here and there are the marks of
heavy artillery gaping holes in walls and roofs, watch towers
pock-marked with shell holes. Thousands of guerrillas are sta
tioned in the town, and the church is used as a guerrilla mess
hall. Services are still held; simple services, for the most part

52

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

devoted to hymn singing; for the minister from Ho Pu is not
able to visit Hsi Mi often.

My visit to Hsi Mi was brief; I had no opportunity to talk
to regular members. The information I got came from a refu
gee hut near the church. I heard Foochow, my native dialect
being spoken in the hut and went in to visit. The man of the
house was a refugee from Hsiapu, north of Foochow. Two
sons were guerrillas.

Wistfully, the wife asked me: "Could you by any chance be
a Catholic?" I replied in the negative. It was then that she
told me about the little church next door, which her Catholic
family was now attending, because as she said, "There is no
place else to go."

Across from Kinmen, on battered Little Kinmen, I found
another church, a lovely brick building with white spire that
might have been transplanted from New England. But a di
rect hit from enemy artillery on Amoy had removed the roof,
gutted the interior. The Christians on Little Kinmen are small
in number, between fifty and one hundred the commanding
general told me. They must worship in their homes now; they
have no regular pastor.

"They are very earnest, fine people," the general said, and
Magistrate Chang Chow quickly agreed. As I continued my
search for Christians, hoping especially to find members of
my father's churches, it became apparent that the Christian
population was respected, had an importance out of all pro
portion to its numbers.

For wherever and whenever I asked about Christians the
answers were immediate. "Why, so and so is a Christian," or
"There are such and such number of Christians on this island,
that island."

And so as the days passed I located more Christians, more
churches, began too, to get a little news of those who have
stayed behind the mainland,

On lonely, isolated Matsu Island are six Christian families,

53

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

four Congregational and two Methodist. On White Dog Is
land are seven families, all Methodist refugees from the Hai-
tang and Lungtien districts of my father's parish. Among the
thousands of soldiers and guerrillas are other Christians. Far
to the north on the Ta-chen Islands there are two churches,
without pastors and of origin and denomination I could not
ascertain.

But the greatest tribute to Christianity along the China
Coast came in a guerrilla general's headquarters. As I sat and
sipped tea, the general told of raids and battles, of hopes and
plans. On the walls of his office was a chart, showing the popu
lation groups which could be counted upon when the forces
of Free China are allowed to invade the mainland.

Very neatly done, the chart showed the number of dis
possessed former landlords, the guerrillas presently active in
the mountains, the unemployed but heading the list was the
statement "450,000 Christians."

The statement was surprising for several reasons. As the
general finished his briefing I said, "But general, your figures
are wrong. There are not that many Christians in Fukien Prov
ince, or even along the whole coast."

"Yes," replied the general. "You are right as to actual church
members, particularly now that so many have been liqui
dated, driven underground or so watched and hounded that
they are helpless. But we include the thousands who have
studied at some time in missionary schools, the other thou
sands that have received treatment in American missionary
hospitals, Most of these people we count also as our friends,
and there are so many they cannot be located or persecuted."

From this conversation and from others, came the realiza
tion of an important factor in the eventual freeing of China.
Time and again I was asked about the whereabouts of mis
sionaries who had once lived and worked in Fukien. In a ten
minute ride in a sampan, from Matsu Island to the seaplane

54

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

which was to carry me back to Formosa, the two boatmen
talked only of one thing: Dr. Gillette, the Congregational
medical missionary who had operated a hospital at Pagoda
Anchorage for years. In my brief hours on Matsu I was asked
about Dr. J. E. Skinner, for over fifty years active in a re
markable medical work; about the Congregational mission
aries who had been stationed in Changlo, on the coast near
Matsu.

One day on Kinmen a handsome guerrilla captain came to
see me, asking for the American who spoke Foochow.

"You must be either the son of Mr. Caldwell or Mr. Hayes
of Futsing," he said. "Few Americans can speak Foochow dia
lect as well as members of those families."

Captain Song Hsi was his name, and he had walked fif
teen miles across the rugged hump of the island to see me.
He was graduated from the Ming Gnie Middle School in Fut
sing which my father founded with an initial gift of $25,000
from the First Methodist Church of Des Moines. He had been
a member of a rural church father started on the Lungtien
Peninsula. Captain Song is one of a colony of 275 guerrilla
families from the Futsing region, just settled on Kinmen. He
told me of other Christians in the colony, but they had been
moved from pillar to post so often that no organized religious
life had been possible.

The tremendous interest in the missionaries, so often ex
pressed by men like Captain Song, is, I was assured, reflected
among the older people still on the mainland. As I have noted
in a previous chapter Communist propaganda is actually back
firing because it always links "capitalistic, brutal America"
with "that puppet bandit," Chiang. Except for the young, ex
cept for leftist college students, the people of the China Coast
simply do not buy that. To them, America is still the most
powerful country in the world, the land that sent the Skin
ners, the Gillettes to help them. As far as the common folk

55

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

are concerned, if Chiang and America are working together
it is a good sign indeed; it probably means that Chiang will
come back,' that Communism will be defeated.

I would not exaggerate the numbers of Christians I found.
Among the 200,000 soldiers, guerrillas and civilians on the
Free Chinese islands I found five churches and one pastor.
Unaffiliated Christians number several thousand. I would like
to, but cannot say that I was able to get encouraging news of
a vast revival among the Christians on the mainland. Many
churches have been forced to close their doors. Ming Gnie
School in Futsing, like other missionary institutions, has been
taken over by the Communists. But there are scores of under
ground congregations, there are still even many churches that
operate openly. Among the Methodist churches in Fukien,
many are now served by women pastors. Even district super
intendents are sometimes women, perhaps because the au
thorities are more loathe to terrorize women, perhaps because
much of the trained male leadership has been liquidated.

To me the exciting story is that there are even five churches
among the islands, that there are even a few thousand Chris
tians among the guerrilla families. For the churches that exist,
the Christians still practicing their faith have done so with
out encouragement, spiritual or financial, from the outside
world.

But most significant is that a non-Christian guerrilla gen
eral considers the Christian and Christian-related population
of tremendous strategic importance, that even those educated
in mission schools and treated in mission hospitals are con
sidered friendly to the Free Chinese cause. Many of us who
have lived long in China have suspected that American influ
ence might still be strong.

Over two years ago I wrote China Coast Family, the story
of my family's fifty years of missionary work on the Fukien
coast within sight of Matsu and just 100 miles north of Kin-
men. I wrote of the bandit in a mountain village who accepted

56

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

my father's effort at mediation between bandits and govern
ment forces, with these words: "I trust the missionary, for he
is an American."

And I wrote in China Coast Family ,"! am sure there are
men still living along the China Coast who would say it. As
long as that is so, and if we will act on it before it is too late,
China is not lost to us."

Matsu Island was my last stop in guerrilla-land. As my sea
plane circled to take me back to the safety of Formosa, I could
see many old landmarks along the coast of what is the cradle
of Protestant Christian work in China. The mouth of the Min
River up which the first missionaries, a Methodist and a Con-
gregationalist, sailed in 1847 was clearly visible; and Sharp
Peak, the island summer resort where we used to spend the
months of summer heat. Standing out clearly in the sparkling
winter sky was Kushan Peak, and Kuliang, the summer resort
above Foochow. As I saw these landmarks so familiar from
childhood days I was once again proud of my heritage, of the
part my family played in the building of a Christian society
in China. Certainly the sacrifices made were not in vain, for
the foundation built at such cost and sacrifice, with the offer
ings of hundreds of thousands of American Christians, are still
there, awaiting men and women who will come to begin build
ing anew.

Christianity is not strong enough on the China mainland to
conquer Communism, but it is a factor of importance, which
added to all the other factors make China's liberation far from
hopeless. The religious faith of China's Christians can never
be stamped out, and China's Red rulers must know it. That
faith contributes to a continued belief among hundreds of
thousands of people that America is not the villain it is painted
as being. No, religious faith alone will not drive out the en
emy. It is just one more problem the enemy must worry about;
it is a factor in the eventual liberation of a half billion people.

The liberation of Communist China will come about

57

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

through a combination of faith and will and force of arms.
And among those who bear arms, the guerrillas will be most
important. There are Christians among them too. There are
rich men and poor men, guerrillas who fight from distant main
land bases, guerrillas who strike from Kinmen and Matsu and
Ta-chen. The story of the guerrillas, their missions, their train
ing and way of life is also a story of faith.

Chapter 6

W "M /TEN of Iron in Wooden Ships/' my friend Fred Sparks,
W I ^ u ^ tzer P r i ze winning NEA correspondent has

JLf JL called the Free Chinese guerrillas. In the ceaseless
war that rages along the Coast all men, even women and chil
dren, have a part. I have already noted that the children of
the guerrilla schools study the tactics used by their fathers,
learn to spot the approach of Communist raiders. Women too,
are active, as civil defense workers, in special sewing classes
producing clothing for their men and for the guerrilla de
pendents who come out of occupied China penniless. There
are women fighters and leaders, too, women like Two-Gun
Annie Wang Pai-mei who strikes out from a base off the
Chekiang Coast.

Among their number, the guerrillas include a cross section
of all China. There are educated men and uneducated fisher
men; there are opportunists and intensely patriotic men who
live only for the day of return to the mainland. There are ex-
pirates and ex-bandits, dispossessed landlords and ruined mer
chants.

In the years that have passed since Communist victory on
the mainland, there has been ceaseless action along the coast,
scores of little raids, many big raids. Islands have been wrested
from Communist control, some permanently, others to be lost

59

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

through Red counterattack. Today nearly fifty islands are in
Nationalist hands. From tiny Tungting in the south, the is
lands stretch northward for nearly four hundred miles to the
Ningpo Coast. The Free Chinese islands divide into three
natural groups, most important of which is the Kinmen group
of five major islands. One hundred and forty miles to the north
is the Matsu group, which includes the White Dog Islands,
tiny Turnabout Island-a total of a half dozen islands. Still
further north the Ta-chen holdings begin, extending for nearly
150 miles along the coast of Chekiang Province. In addition to
these islands, actually held by Free China, there are numer
ous "Vacuum Islands" extending almost to the mouth of the
Yangtse. There are Fenghuang, Nanlung, Peilung, the whole
Tungpan group, Tachang and Laitoyu islands inhabited by
hundreds of people, but held by neither side, or lightly held
and evacuated when attack seems imminent.

Sixty-five thousand civilians live on the islands. Two pro
vincial governments-in-exile exist, ready to move across and
set up operations when L-day, Liberation Day, comes. The
regulars, the men of Chiang Kai Shek's armies, number in the
tens of thousands, to be counted now in armies rather than in
divisions.

Free China's navy too, is active. Five naval bases are in
operation from Kinmen northward. The ships are small, an
cient Japanese trawlers converted into gunboats, a few de
stroyers, destroyer escorts and mine layers. Ceaselessly the
navy patrols the coast, watching the shipping that attempts
to enter Communist ports, fighting short but fierce battles
with Communist ships that slip out of mainland harbors, carry
ing food to the residents of the Vacuum Islands.

But the brunt of the fighting falls upon the shoulders of the
Chinese guerrilla. It is he that must go far inland, on sabotage
missions or merely to collect information or to transmit orders.
While the regulars come from every province of the mainland,
the guerrillas are generally local men, residents of the ad-

60

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

jacent coast. While the guerrillas are billeted with Kinmen
and Ta-chen families, the regulars more often live apart in
training camps. While the regulars have been separated from
families for years, the guerrillas often have wives and children
living nearby. For the Chinese wisely decided that the guer
rillas, to be effective, must be able to live and fight with the
knowledge that their families are free from danger of arrest
and torture. And so hundreds of wives and children have been
brought out from the mainland, to live in dependent colonies
in the Ta-chens, on White Dog, on Kinmen and now even in
Formosa.

On the islands the guerrillas now approach 100,000 in num
ber, perhaps half of them already intensively trained. As I
have already noted, their counterparts exist in all but one of
China's mainland provinces. No one can say exactly how many
men still fight on there. The Communists themselves admit to
400,000; the Nationalists claim 550,000.

The guerrillas operate under the Continental Operations
command of the Free Chinese department of National De
fense. On the islands they are under the command of the
commanding general whoever he may be. Yet they enjoy a
certain autonomy. On Kinmen, main training base, the men
live and work in vast camps, in dialect groups. I saw 5,000
men from north Kwangtung province in a massive demonstra
tion of fighting power. I visited another unit, all men speak
ing the Foochow dialect. Further north there are other con
tingents, speaking the dialect, knowing every footpath of a
specific coastal area.

Knowledge of the coast is of tremendous importance to the
guerrillas. They must know the local dialect, must know every
water buffalo path, must know who is reliable and who will
help. This knowledge is important in hit-and-run raids, sabo
tage operations; it will be even more important when the
guerrilla divisions go ashore, the advance waves in a battle
for the mainland.

61

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

As the guerrillas are specially trained, so also they must rely
on special and unusual financial operations. For they have
unusual problems, among these that of housing, clothing and
feeding their dependents.

So the guerrillas add to their war chest through some un
orthodox and unmilitary operations. A guerrilla unit that cap
tures a Communist ship of any type has the right to keep and
sell the cargo. This creates some unusual situations. As I have
mentioned, I went to Kinmen equipped with aureomycin,
costing me thirty-five cents a capsule in Nashville, Tennessee,
and found the same brand on sale locally for the equivalent of
ten cents. A shipful of wonder drugs had just been seized by
a raiding party.

But it is the wine distillery and cigarette factory which
contribute most to the guerrilla treasury; for the guerrillas
have a monopoly on both items. Four brands of cigarettes are
made, bearing such brands as "Kinmen Tiger" and "Over
coming Difficulty."

The wine distillery illustrates the complicated financial go
ings-on one finds on Kinmen ( this includes the issuing of its
own currency). The island produces very little rice. But the
poor soil will grow a grain known as kaoliang which is an im
portant crop because it helps prevent soil erosion. The farm
ers are encouraged to grow kaoliang which they can then
barter for rice imported from Formosa. Finding itself with
tons of surplus kaoliang, the guerrilla command decided to
build a distillery.

At this point in the Golden Gate s turbulent history there
appeared on the scene the island's most unusual guerrilla. For
Allen Yeh, manager of the wine distillery, is a guerrilla in the
sense that he plays an extremely important part in financing
operations.

Allen Yeh speaks perfect English with a British accent. He
was born in Malaya, is a graduate of Hong Kong's best college.

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

"Why in the world did you come to Kinmen?" I asked, "Do
you like it here?"

Allen Yeh's answer carried with it a further clue to the im
portance of Kinmen.

"This is my ancestral home," he said. "My people came
from Kinmen. I was needed here, and it just happened that
when I arrived a distillery was under discussion."

Did he know anything about the making of wine? No, Al
len's education was in the liberal arts. He is more poet than
brewer. But he has been able to improvise and invent, and
he is using that surplus kaoliang. Allen Yeh has problems: The
Yeh brew must be bottled in whatever empties his scavengers
can find. It generally appears in empty soy sauce bottles, but
occasionally a beer or Coca-Cola bottle shows up.

Allen Yeh has added another link in the chain reaction of
rice-for-kaoliang-for-wine. Every month he has tons of mash
which he feeds to a large collection of hogs. The spectacular
growth of the mash-fed hogs threatens to put the Berkshire
boar out of business. After all, why take the chance with white-
footed piglets when native hogs can be raised to tremendous
size, and perhaps with a delicate, winey flavor?

The story of Allen Yeh illustrates a facet of Kinmen's im
portance which U. S. policy makers might well take note of.
The island has had one export in all its history its young men
and women who have gone forth to Nan Yang, the countries
of Southeast Asia, to become business leaders, merchants,
bankers, educators. Over 100,000 Kinmeners live overseas.
The fact that Free China has been able to hold and strengthen
the island has been an important factor in the battle for the
allegiance of Asia's 10,000,000 overseas Chinese. In the cen
ter of the island is a huge statue of Chiang Kai Shek, sym
bolically facing westward towards the mainland. The statue
was paid for, was even built, by overseas Chinese from Thai
land, Vietnam, Malaya, Singapore and Indonesia. Delegations

63

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

of overseas Chinese from six countries have already visited
Kinmen.

The loss of China's Golden Gate would be a severe blow
to Nationalist China's uphill fight to keep the overseas Chi
nese on its side.

Yes, Allen Yeh is a guerrilla, even though he does not carry
a gun, will never learn how to blow up a railroad bridge or
how to kill a Communist sentry quickly and silently. There
are many others like him, business men, agricultural experts,
all playing an important part in Free China's mainland oper
ations.

But wars will not be won by wine masters, nor by breed
ing better pigs or planting trees. What of the fighting guer
rillas, the men who come in actual contact with the enemy
on raids far into the interior? Here too, I found men of vary
ing backgrounds, educated and uneducated, a cross-section
of China. One of the leading guerrillas is an old family friend,
who owes my father a debt of gratitude, for he was once a
pirate who got too big for his britches. Not content with sim
ple piracy, he started a full-scale revolution on the coast just
north of Kinmen. The short-lived revolution ended in the
pirate's capture; but father pleaded that there was good in
the man, that the death sentence should be commuted. And
so it was that Pirate Ung lived to become guerrilla General
Ung, based upon Kinmen Island,

The story of Ung Ding Buong is important, casting light
upon the loyalties of the pirates who have been the scourge
of South China for generations. The meeting with Ung on
Kinmen was accidental, but in a way it was no surprise. A
year and a half before I visited guerrilla-land I had written
these words in China Coast Family: "I often wonder about
Ung Ding Buong, about all the outlaws of the Fukien Hills
and Seas, who in the past refused to knuckle under to tyranny.
Are the Ungs, the Lings, the Lu King Bangs causing their
Communist rulers trouble today? Given arms and direction,

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

and above all understanding, will not perhaps these sturdy
people provide a deadly obstacle to the solidification of Com
munist rule? Is there not here an opportunity worth a small
investment?'*

Ung Ding Buong, with a dark history, can perhaps be lab
eled an opportunist, although why opportunism would lead
him to choose Free China when most of the world considers
its cause lost is an interesting question. But what of more typi
cal guerrillas, not tainted by a history of piracy and trafficking
with the enemy? The story of a man I shall call Captain Shih
sheds light on the thinking, the ordeals, the assignment of the
other "men of iron" who sail to the mainland on wooden ships.

My meeting with Captain Shih was also accidental and it
took place, not on Kinmen but on Matsu Island. I must con
fess that my visit to Matsu was for romantic and personal rea
sons. For it lies off the mouth of the Min River. Many years
ago when I was a small child, my dad visited Matsu, looking
for the eggs of the many sea birds that nest among the islands.
As a child I often saw the island. Later, when I was a student
in the Shanghai American School, I saw the island each time
the steamer took me to and from Shanghai.

Matsu is one of a group of small and cliffy islands taken by
the Nationalists in 1952 in a successful testing of combined
guerrilla, regular army and sea operations.

It is not possible to land a plane anywhere on Matsu, or on
the neighboring White Dog Islands. Once every two weeks
one of General Chennaulf s air liners flies in, a converted PBY,
and, weather permitting, lands off the beach with supplies
and VIP personnel.

I was signally honored when I flew over to Matsu, The PBY
had been equipped with exactly thirteen seats. The command
ing general of the Matsu garrison was also returning that day.
Always before it had been understood that when the general
flew there could be only twelve passengers. The thirteenth,
seat must always be left empty. After all, the trip was pretty

65

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

risky anyway. The battered old seaplane must skim low over
the water in order to escape the enemy radar, planted around
the mouth of the Min River, leading to the important harbor
at Pagoda Anchorage, The plane was, of course, always un
armed.

But when the general learned that I was myself a son of
Foochow, when he learned that my father was the great tiger
hunting missionary, he allowed me to take the thirteenth seat.

The Government Spokesman's Office at Taipei which
planned my trips did not assign an aide or interpreter to me
for the Matsu visit. The seating capacity of the PBY was small,
and after all, I was going "home" where I could speak the dia
lect of the people.

And so it was that news spread quickly on Matsu that there
was an American on the island who spoke the Foochow dia
lect. It was unusual news, too, for other than an occasional
American pilot who might step ashore on the beach for a few
hours, I was the first American to visit Matsu since my father
climbed its cliffs in search of birds' eggs nearly forty years
earlier.

I ran into Captain Shih quite by accident, for I had no plans
for Matsu other than to walk about and talk to people. I was
standing on a hill top, looking westward trying to pick out
old landmarks around my birthplace. It was a bit difficult to
orient myself to looking from the sea toward home. And so I
turned to the Chinese officer nearby and asked him which
was the Mui-hua beach.

From mountains and beaches our conversation turned to
politics and war and guerrilla operations. And thus I learned
the story of Captain Shih, a typical fighting guerrilla.

It had been only a few months previous that a lookout on
Matsu had spotted an object bobbing in the water. Since
refugees from the mainland sometimes swim to the guerrilla
islands, or float out on logs or tiny rafts, the sentries are always
watchful, always report any strange and unusual object.

66

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

So it was that one morning a Matsu lookout reported an
unusual object bobbing on the water. For, Captain Shih, cling
ing to a log, was approaching Matsu after floating miles and
for hours from the mainland.

But let Captain Shih tell his story, in his own words,

"I was one of a special sabotage squad/ 5 he began, "We
were twelve, all men of the Min Nan area, and it was our job
to land near Haikow, work our way inland and then sabotage
the highways and especially the bridges along the coast.

"We landed without difficulty; then proceeded quite a way
inland, to the highway near Putien. We had just begun our
operations when we ran into very bad luck, I think it was
purely by chance, but perhaps we were betrayed one cannot
always know. But we suddenly ran into a Communist patrol
where we least expected it.

"I am not sure exactly what happened, who was killed, who
was captured, who perhaps may still be alive. We were sur
prised and could not fight effectively. I know several of the
men were killed on the spot. Only by luck I escaped into the
tall grass along the highway. For hours I crawled along like
a wild hog, working my way into the higher mountains. They
looked for me for quite a while, but you know that country is
pretty wild.

"I kept my gun but even so I was afraid of tigers. There are
so many tigers in those hills, and I knew I wouldn't have much
chance in that tall grass. I was especially frightened that first
night and climbed a tree so that I would be safe from the
animals*

"We have a large mountain area inland from Putien that is
under our control, and it was towards that area that I must
go rather than towards the coast, because I knew the Com
munists would put on a special watch all along the coast, ex
pecting naturally that the survivors of my group would try to
get back to one of the islands.

"I became terribly hungry in that first day or two. You know

67

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

the Communists have one terrible weapon. It is one we also
have. We can never be absolutely sure on the mainland who
is safe, who are our friends. But then neither can they be sure.
Anyway, I was afraid to contact anyone for food at first. So
it was that I went for two days without food until I was able
to steal a little rice and some cabbage which I ate raw.

"After three or four days of walking, sometimes during the
day in the wooded country, sometimes also at night, I reached
what I thought was the border of the guerrilla-held area.
There I walked boldly up to a farm house and asked for food.
The people were frightened at first. But after I talked for a
while, they fed me, and I found that I was in fairly safe ter
ritory.

"You know we are not well organized in these areas. Some
of the guerrillas are really Tu Fefs [bandits]. Some are pa
triots, indeed most of them are. After another day or so I was
able to make contact with the people in charge. They gave
me a pretty tough time, too. One of the terrible things about
China today is that no one trusts anyone else. They questioned
me for many hours before they could be sure that I was not
from the other side. I cannot blame them at all for that. There
are many betrayals taking place in China now. Friend is
turned against friend, even son against father.

"But at last they accepted me, they fed me, and I began to
plan a way to get back. We have an underground, but it again
is not as well organized as it should be. We know that the
Communists have also placed their men in our underground
just as we have men in every Communist division. So we have
to be careful.

"I gave up my gun; I got the roughest sort of clothes, the
kind that the woodchoppers in the mountains wear; and after
several weeks I began to move slowly back toward the coast.

"It was only about two hundred li from the mountain place
to the coast, but even that short distance took me nearly three
weeks to travel. Sometimes I rested with "friends" for several

68

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

days at a time while the message went out to other friends
that I should be expected. Sometimes I had to hide in the
mountains all night, or as the case might be, all day. But I
was fairly well fed as well fed as the poor people are able to
feed themselves these days.

"When I at last got near the coast the danger was very
great, for the Communists are terribly frightened of an in
vasion. The coastline is filled with special agents, with the
secret police. Every fishing junk is watched carefully. When
a junk leaves it is searched from stem to stern, each passenger
is noted, even the children. The captain must place his ^chop*
in a special book, must say exactly where he is going to fish
that day and exactly when he is returning. When he returns
lie is again searched, his crew counted, and I might say most
of his catch taken by the greedy soldiers. Each member of the
crew has a special pass, with his picture on it, so it is most
difficult to make a substitution.

"We do it sometimes, of course. We Chinese are pretty good
at forging things. But at best it is a pretty risky business and
many of the fishermen are unwilling to take a chance.

"I tried for a long time to see how I could get back to Matsu
or White Dog by boat, but at last I was forced to give the idea
up. My continued presence with the friends who were keep
ing me was risky. I could not go out, day or night. Eventually
someone might even notice that the family was buying a little
more food than usual.

"You know the Communist secret police even take notes on
such things: the amount of dried fish a family buys. If there
is a sudden change in food purchase, there may be a mid
night raid.

"And so I decided I had only one chance to get back. I
must wait until there was a good off-shore wind, at night, and
try to float back. My friends were fishermen, and they were
able to locate a big log. You know even that is a difficult mat
ter because fuel is so valuable. But they found one that would

69

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

hold me and then carefully concealed it among the rocks. I
knew where it was, and I only had to wait until the wind was
right.

"That was in late October, and already the water was
chilly. I wondered if I would be able to stand the cold for
many hours. I wondered too, what would happen if the wind
changed."

Then Captain Shih smiled boyishly, as he continued.

"But luck was with me. The wind came, a good brisk one.
It started early in the evening, I was able to get into the water
and started just before midnight. The tide was going out; that
gave me several extra miles. By daylight I was well off the
shore and could even see Matsu.

"It was terribly cold. And it was the loneliest time of my
life out there in the water between our side and the other side.
I kicked now and then until I became tired. Slowly my fine
'ship' moved toward Matsu."

And that, told simply, without any heroics, was the story
of one man's ordeal, of a mission that failed and yet was sig
nally successful.

70

Chapter 7

mm/ T"HO arms and trains these men and women of guer-
m/m/ r ill a -l an d, men and women who have kept the Com-
T f munist armies off balance all along the coast from
Shanghai to Hong Kong? What more could they accomplish,
given more American assistance? Can they hold out on their
tiny island strongholds? This latter question may even be
answered before these words are in print. The Communist
build-up along the guerrilla coast was under way when I
visited the islands in December, 1953. All through August
and September of 1954 the build-up had continued; artillery
fire was poured on Kinmen and Little Kinmen in such volume
as the islanders have not experienced in five years.

The answer to the question of whether Kinmen and the less
important islands can hold out ( if these little Berlins scattered
along the China Coast still exist as outposts of Free China
when these words are read) rests in the answer to the first
question: Who trains and arms the men?

Not the United States, at least not officially. One of the
great anomalies of American policy is that the fighting men
of the China Coast islands are considered outside the Ameri
can defense area. The two American officers killed on Kin-
men on September 3rd, 1954, were there as observers. The
military advisory group on Formosa, charged with training

71

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

Chiang's armies, has not been allowed to work among the
Nationalist guerrillas. Observers have gone to Kinmen and to
the Ta-chens. They have not participated in planning the de
fense of the islands. And the simple fact is that Kinmen, espe
cially, has not received the military assistance or the arms to
enable it to hold out against determined Communist attack.

Only one American group is allowed to operate openly
among the islands. That is the Joint Commission on Rural Re
construction, of which I shall report more in detail, JCRR be
ing a Sino-American operation, does work on Kinmen and in
the Ta-chen Islands. Chinese and American agricultural spe
cialists have visited the islands regularly and helped to make
of Kinmen a show window of Chiang's progress, a show win
dow clearly visible and understood by the enslaved millions
just across the waters. The Berkshire boar, the Kankrej bulls
from India, bred to native cattle and swine, thus producing
sturdier animals for the Kinmen farmers, were sent to Kinmen
by JCRR. Chen Shi Ho's army agricultural experiment station
has received JCRR help.

All of this is to the credit of the United States, has helped to
make Kinmen the potential Golden Gate to the mainland. And
it is also to the credit of the United States that the guerrillas
have received some assistance, but it has been given in sup
posed secrecy and has been of such limited character that it
will not insure the island garrisons against annihilation.

As soon as one arrives on Formosa, one hears of Western
Enterprises, Incorporated. Better known as WE, this is Cen
tral Intelligence Agency's vehicle for arming and training the
Free Chinese guerrillas in "secrecy /' I write of WE and its
operations because it has long since ceased to be any secret.
The British, all Free Chinese, and the Communists too, know
full well what WE does. Its operations are worth while, yet
also are childish. If America is really to develop partisan war
fare, if it is to have an intelligence service in the Far East that
can compete with the British, it will have to improve.

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

Western Enterprises, Inc., as the name might imply, is sup
posedly a bona-fide American business firm, doing import-ex
port business in Free China. Yet when its iso-odd ex-marines
arrived in Taipei, their method of achieving "cover" was sur
prising. WE people, wives and children, too, lived to them
selves in special compounds, with their own PX and Com
missary establishments, their own clubs.

Quite naturally WE immediately began to excite curiosity,
to cause comment. Since when was there sufficient business
in Formosa to cause the establishment o an operation of such
size? Why did businessmen have to live to themselves? Why,
when one discussed, or tried to discuss business, did the sup
posed businessmen profess complete ignorance? Also it was
strange that WE's businessmen had planes of their own, took
frequent trips to the off-shore islands!

I mention CIA's Formosan "cover" because its cover is
equally transparent in other Far Eastern countries. In one
capital city, CIA men have set up a ship chandlering concern.
It did not take long for local businessmen to discover that
the Americans knew nothing about chandlering ships. It took
but a very short time for the enemy to know exactly who was
to be watched in that city.

No one of course, not even the Congress, knows how many
men CIA has in the Far East or in any other area. But one can
nearly always spot a CIA operator. Time and again I have
met old friends or acquaintances in the Far East and quite
naturally I asked what the individual was doing now.

The CIA operator immediately gets a silly smirk on his face,
with obvious pride mumbles something about something, and
the identity of another American intelligence agent is immedi
ately known. I would say that the identity of nine out of ten
American intelligence agents is known. The exact opposite
would apply to the British.

Another rumor I pass on because if it be true, it is a serious
indictment of American operations. It is widely reported that

73

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

Central Intelligence Agency was behind the troubles between
President Syngman Rhee and the Korean National Assembly
during the summer of 1952. It is alleged that CIA attempted
to have Rhee ousted by buying off members of Korea's con
gress. Such activity might be appropriate in Guatemala. In
Korea, or elsewhere in the Far East it is dangerous and stupid
and indicates abysmal lack of understanding of local politics.

But our present interest lies in what CIA, that is Western
Enterprises, has done to train and arm the Nationalist guer
rillas, men of iron like Captain Shih.

The story can only be gotten in bits, and then largely from
privates and non-commissioned officers in the guerrilla ranks;
for WE maintains the utmost secrecy as far as other Ameri
cans are concerned. The degree of secrecy is almost ludicrous.
I ran into a WE man on a lonely guerrilla island. There we
were, two lone Americans, far from home. But as we passed
down the narrow cobble-stoned street the WE man did not
deign even to notice me. Naturally, the Chinese were some
what surprised.

In fact, the WE approach to public relations has made it
difficult to tell the story of what is going on, what might
happen along the China Coast. Fred Sparks, of NEA, arrived
in the Ta-chen Islands during Christmas of 1953. Fred is as
honest and reliable a reporter as represents the American
press. Yet his whole trip was almost ruined because of WE.
The Chinese commander, not knowing who Fred was, wel
comed him, thinking he was another WE man. Arrangements
were made to take him through the islands, allow him to in
terview guerrillas and refugees. Suddenly the bottom dropped
out of all plans, and Fred Sparks found himself shunned.

Less than a half mile away, the Americans at WE head
quarters had discovered the presence of Mr. Sparks. They
immediately told the Chinese commander that he was not o
the elite, that care should be taken in handling him. When
Fred sent a message to WE headquarters, asking for an inter-

74

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

view, a Chinese came back saying that the Americans were
all gone.

But that night, it being the Christmas season, Sparks heard
the sounds of drunken Americans singing from the nearby
hill, not the voice of one American, but of many.

WE has done its utmost to keep all Americans from visiting
any guerrilla-held island. Once the American gets through
the WE road blocks, he is quite likely to meet with further
trouble on the islands. Only if one has the support of the
highest Nationalist officials is it possible to get the story of
the China Coast.

And that story is of tremendous importance to the Western
World. Mainland guerrillas included, there are a minimum
of a half million men available even now to strike fear into
the heart of the enemy. There are men like Ung Ding Buong,
who know every cove and mud-flat from Wenchow to Swa-
tow; men like Captain Shih who have the courage and the
knowledge of terrain so important if China is to be free again.

Within the limitations of curious American policy, WE does
a good job. The training areas of the guerrillas on Kinmen
are veritable arsenals. I walked through barracks after bar
racks, watched on the edges of parade grounds while the men
maneuvered. I visited the homes of the guerrilla dependents
from my home part of Fukien province; I watched them work
ing out tactical problems on the hillsides.

WE's American instructors train the guerrillas in the use
of every type of modern small arms. Each guerrilla keeps his
arms by his bedside. In each section of each barracks are the
store rooms in which the bigger pieces of every fighting unit
are kept at the ready. Rifles, machine guns, sub-machine guns,
mortars, large and small, grenades all these are in the hands
of the men.

The guerrilla must learn how to land quickly from the prow
of a ship, how to kill quickly and silently in the dark. Special
sabotage units, similar to the one which Captain Shih led,

75

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

learn how to destroy bridges and railroads. Still others must
become proficient as messengers, as radio operators.

The training of the men is extremely hard, from dawn until
dark. Their discipline is the best that I have ever seen among
Oriental soldiers, their physical appearance excellent.

What have these men been able to accomplish to date with
American aid? And what more could they accomplish?

It is difficult to separate guerrilla activities from the activi
ties of Nationalist regulars, for both participate in major en
gagements. Therefore it would be better to ask what have
the Nationalist forces along the China Coast been able to ac
complish.

Since 1950 these men of iron have captured literally scores
of small Communist craft. They have been able to maintain
a semblance at least, of contact and supervision over thou
sands of mainland guerrillas. They have engaged in scores of
minor raids. They have recaptured Matsu and White Dog
Islands. They took part in a 10,000 man assault on Tungshan
Island in which they badly mauled two Communist divisions
but finally were forced to retreat.

In 1952 alone the Nationalist attacks ranged from the tak
ing of small islands off the Chekiang coast to a strike inland
against the Penghu station on the Canton-Kowloon railroad.
The battle of Vanjih Island, an ancient pirate lair near my
birthplace, resulted in 1,035 Communists killed and 794 pris
oners. The recapture of Nanping and Chungping Islands off
the Fukien Coast resulted in 300 Communists killed and
wounded, including one brigadier general.

Of special significance have been the number of prisoners
and the ease with which the prisoners were taken, During
the battle on Tungshan Island, eight hundred Communists
surrendered during the first hour of battle. Total captured
personnel was so great that it was impossible to move the
prisoners back to Kinmen. Much to their disgust, the men

76

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

who surrendered had to stay behind and rejoin their com
rades.

It has never been understood in America that the Commu
nist surrenders in Korea were not isolated events. The same
willingness to surrender has been evident, over and over again
in China. It is a matter of the greatest significance in any dis
cussion of Chiang's chances of retaking the mainland.

So much for what the men of iron have accomplished. What
more could they have accomplished and \yhat more can they
do to harrass the enemy?

Writing in the August, 1954, issue of Readers' Digest, Fred
Sparks gives an idea of what could be accomplished by what
he calls "Operation Bleed." With South Korean participation,
all of China's Coast line, her holdings in North Korea, could
be kept in a continual state of turmoil if the guerrillas and
the regulars had the support, the weapons they need.

There are few landing craft available to the Chinese guer
rillas. Remember the pitiful request of the guerrilla leader on
Tungting Island? He wanted a couple of PT boats. There are
few small planes, no helicopters, not enough naval support
vessels of the type that can beat into shallow harbors quickly.

From time to time anti-Nationalist American newspapers,
of which there are many, make fun of Chiang Kai Shek and
his puny efforts since President Eisenhower "unleashed" Na
tionalist forces in 1953. No great battles have been reported,
no landings attempted. But considering their resources, the
men of Free China have actually been extremely active. Presi
dent Eisenhower's "unleashing" was a hollow gesture, not ac
companied by any definite policy decision. American policy
towards China is still negative. Formosa is to be protected but
no offensive Nationalist action is encouraged.

Even since Kinmen burst upon the front pages in the fall
of 1954, there has been no positive policy decision. The Na
tional Security Council met in extraordinary session in Denver

77

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

to consider last fall's "vest pocket war/' No stepped-up aid was
announced; Kinmen's defenders were given no assurance that
they would receive help if the Communists attacked the is
land in force.

And the truth is if the island is attacked in force, it can be
taken; China's Golden Gate and perhaps its golden oppor
tunity will be lost. For the aid given to date has not been
sufficient to make Kinmen or any other Nationalist-held island
invincible. The small arms and the training given to the guer
rillas is but a drop in the bucket.

But how is it that the weary, defeated Nationalist armies
were able to beat off Communist attack in 1949, yet might not
be able to prevail today? In 1949, there were no elaborate
defense works, no highway system, no well organized supply
line to Formosa. Now the men of Free China are well en
trenched, thoroughly dug in, with highways that make it pos
sible to move troops quickly to any part of the island.

But Communist China has weapons now it did not have in
1949. In particular, the Reds have an air force, and Kinmen
is vulnerable to air attack. Lying outside the defense line
established by the United States, it has received little artillery
of the type needed, none of the planning and advice needed.
Its antiaircraft artillery is ancient and obsolete.

If the Communists attack in great force, first pounding the
island by air, dropping paratroopers while amphibious forces
land along the beaches, it is doubtful that the island can hold.
Even Kinmen's regular artillery is inadequate; it is far in
ferior to the modern weapons provided the enemy by Russia.
Two or three divisions of paratroopers dropped on Kinmen,
preceded by massive air attack which its defenders have no
way of beating off, and the island will be lost.

What is true of Kinmen is even more true of the other island
outposts. Nowhere is there adequate air defense. If Red China
wishes to take the risk, if it chooses to throw its air force into
the attack, Free China's outposts will be lost.

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

Of course, a simple announcement by the United States
that Kinmen's defenders will receive aid would forestall at
tack. But the United States has as yet made no such announce
ment. Indeed all the available evidence indicates that the
National Security Council in its September, 1954, meeting
decided that the guerrilla islands were not to receive help.

On what basis does the National Security Council make
such decisions? In general, military policy decisions have
their basis in the intelligence reports funneled into Washing
ton from the agents of the Central Intelligence Agency all
through the world. CIA through Western Enterprises has had
its men on Kinmen, in the Ta-chen Islands, even occasionally
on Matsu and White Dog. While training Chinese guerrillas,
it is also their function to report upon Red China, its armies,
its problems.

The average Western Enterprise agent is an ex-marine,
youngish, combat hardened, thoroughly proficient in his trade,
which is fighting. He does not speak Chinese, knows little
about China, cannot read captured enemy documents, cannot
interview refugees. The enemy almost invariably knows his
identity.

If China's Golden Gate is lost, it will be in large part be
cause American intelligence has failed to grasp the signifi
cance of the many forces at work there and on the mainland.
A high United States diplomat in the Far East, talking of
American intelligence methods and potentials, told rne, "Our
men are pretty good at locating enemy armies, airfields and
artillery positions. The physical forces of the enemy they can
understand and can evaluate. But beyond that our intelli
gence is a bust/'

It is likely that Central Intelligence has never noted the
significance of the fact we have noted elsewhere, that Kin-
men has exported 100,000 men and women to other Asian
countries, and of the fact that Nationalist holding of the is
land has therefore meant increased prestige for Free China

79

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

all over Asia. It is almost certain that CIA has not understood
the strength of Christianity on the mainland, the deep pro-
American feeling that still exists. The presence of a Berkshire
boar on Kinmen would have no significance to an average
American Intelligence agent. The name of Koxinga, who made
Kinmen a place of great historic importance to China, would
be unknown to a Western Enterprise man; for it is doubtful
if the ex-marines who made up our intelligence forces have
ever read Chinese history.

If Kinmen be lost, it will be an indication of faulty U. S.
intelligence, of a failure to understand the nonmilitary forces
at work in Asia, forces which are fully as important as the
number of men and planes and tanks possessed by the enemy.

The loss of Kinmen or Ta-chen or Matsu will not mean that
Formosa will also be lost. The armies of Red China will still
have a hundred miles and more of water to cross. Nor will the
continued presence of Free Chinese troops on the islands
mean that the Communist mainland is menaced, that a land
ing can be made to drive out China's Red rulers.

Kinmen is a vitally important Free World position, on the
very edge of the civilized world. It is a monument to Free
Chinese initiative, has certainly been made into a show win
dow of progress. Furthermore, everything done there has
been accomplished against terrific odds.

But Kinmen has no significance unless it is backed by simi
lar accomplishments, by similar good government on the is
land of Formosa. It would be useless for the United States to
keep West Berlin out of enemy hands if the government of
West Germany were hopelessly inefficient, weak and corrupt.
So would it be useless to give aid to Kinmen if Free China had
failed to make progress, had failed to learn from its disastrous
mistakes of the past.

The full potential of the islands in guerrilla-land can only
be understood in terms of Formosa, of the men and women
who crossed over in utter defeat and humiliation in 1949.

80

A BRIGHT LIGHT SHINING

What has Free China been able to accomplish on its island
stronghold?

On September 22, 1954, Clement Atlee, the world's newest
authority on Far Eastern affairs, stated: "Personally speaking,
the sooner we get rid of Chiang Kai Shek and his troops the
better it will be."

If Clement Atlee be correct, it is useless to talk of Golden
Gates and guerrillas and liberation of the mainland.

However, it should be remembered that Mr. Atlee has never
visited the island he so cavalierly dismisses. And Formosa, too,
must be visited to be understood. For there too is a story
that must be told and understood if the people of Asia are to
remain free.

81

BOOK TWO

Of MEN AMD DREAMS

Chapter 1

THE legend of a saintly official in the mountains of For
mosa, or Taiwan, as it is known to Chinese, the story of
an odoriferous farm project, these two, taken together,
tell in part the story of the men and women who bolster the
lonely outposts along the China Coast. First the story of a
smelly project.

Tourists complain and hold their noses because of it. Old
China hands complain too, then wax nostalgic when away
from it. For our purposes we may call it night-soil, the hu
man waste of Asia-without-sewers. It is bartered and sold like
a commodity, sloshed through the streets in ox-drawn and
sometimes mechanized "honey-carts." For millions in Asia it
is the only fertilizer available and affordable. It is a menace
to health, polluting vegetables and water supply with the bac
teria and the viruses of a score of diseases. Partly because of
it, ninety per cent of the people suffer from intestinal para
sites and diseases. Sold and bartered, hauled through the
streets, stored in stinking pits, it has almost caused interna
tional incidents. I knew a junior diplomat in Korea who ar
gued and fought over the price of his output. I saw a drunken
American official fall into a pit and come out stone sober in
five seconds flat.

As far as the night-soil problem is concerned, a new day
has come to Formosa. Those clever Chinese, with an assist
from Charlie Wilson s General Motors and from Ralph Glea-

85

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

son, a soft spoken American Agricultural Expert from South
Carolina, are solving the age-old problem.

I saw the dawn of a new day in Asia when I visited a Tai-
chung night-soil disposal project in central Formosa. My
guide, one Mr. Hsu Ping Woo, better known as Tommy, was
rather irreverent about the whole matter. He called it the
S-project and referred to the long suffering Mr. Gleason as
the American S-pert

Huge GM trucks, equipped with tanks and hoses roam the
streets of Taichung each morning, collecting the nights pro
duction. The trucks transport the stuff into the country, to
huge settling basins, holding 2,500 tons. The night-soil stays
there from ten days to three weeks, depending upon the
weather and temperature. By then it has become pure as a
lily, sterile and devoid of germs without losing any of its po
tent fertilizing power. From the big basins, trucks haul the
sterile stuff to smaller basins, scattered through the country
and easily available to the farmers who use it.

The Taichung Project has cost $85i,ooo~Formosan dollars
to date, or about $32,000 U.S. Of this the Taichung city
fathers have put up all but $106,000 NT (The Free Chinese
dollar is known as the New Taiwan Dollar NT, for short).

Taichung has a three year night-soil project, plans to buy
four more trucks, will build more settling basins. Already
other Formosa cities are clamoring to start their own projects.
It is possible that the Taichung project may become a model
for all Asia, could lead the way to better health in a half dozen
nations.

There is one aspect of the business that still defies solution.
Mr. Hsu looked guilty, as if he must personally shoulder the
blame when he told me a fact my nose had already verified.

"Mr. Caldwell," he said, "no matter what we do with it, it
still smells/'

But because the men of Formosa, with a small assist from
America, have tackled and solved an age-old problem, the rice

OF MEN AND DREAMS

will grow still greener on many a Formosan farm, without en
dangering the health of the farmers.

It was on the same day that I saw the Taichung project that
I also heard the story of Magistrate Wu Feng. Tommy Hsu
and I were driving through the magnificent mountains sur
rounding Sun-Moon Lake, on the border of aborigine coun
try. Tommy told me the story that is now often retold to young
and old throughout the island, a story that has become an un
official guide to official activity.

The mountains of Formosa are inhabited by wild tribes,
non-Chinese aborigines, who came to the island centuries ago
from Indonesia and Southeast Asia. These, the Indians of For
mosa, speak their own dialects, have their own distinctive
customs which included for many years the taking of human
heads. The story of Magistrate Wu Feng is part fact, part
legend, for it occurred many years ago, before Formosa was
lost to the Japanese.

Magistrate Wu represented Imperial China in the For
mosan mountains. He ruled his mountain tribes people for
many years, and he ruled justly. The mountain people loved
and respected him. But neither respect nor love had been
sufficient to change one mountain custom. The elders of the
tribe still insisted on ceremonial head-hunting. Magistrate
Wu had threatened, he had pleaded but to no avail. The Chi
nese governor in Taipei, representing the Emperor in far away
Peking, had at last written Wu that unless the head-hunting
ceased, Wu was to be relieved.

So it was that Magistrate Wu called a meeting of the tribal
chiefs. He would present a plan, would tell the mountain peo
ple again that head-hunting must end.

Wu was an old man, tired and discouraged as he entered
the meeting hall to address the chiefs. For although he had a
plan to present to his people, he could not be certain of its
success. Magistrate Wu addressed the tribes people who faced
him.

87

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

"Honorable Chief s," he began, "I have often talked to you
about your problems. I have tried to rule with justice. But
you still have not obeyed the edict of the all-powerful Em
peror that head-hunting must end. I am here tonight to tell
you that it must end. But I understand the customs of cen
turies are hard to put away, and so I shall allow you to take
one more head."

The magistrate quickly outlined his plan. On the morrow,
before the moon came over the mountain and after full dark
ness had settled upon the hills, the tribesmen were to go to a
crossroad near a mountain village. At eight o'clock a man
dressed in white would approach from the west. That man
would be the last sacrifice to ancient custom.

The chiefs retired to prepare for the morrow. A representa
tive of each tribe was selected; ceremonial dress was required;
a feast must be prepared. And even before the shadows began
to fall on the appointed evening, the selected tribesmen were
gathered among the bamboos at the crossing of the trails.

Just as the moon came over Sun-Moon Mountain, a figure
appeared, dressed in white, walking slowly towards the cross
road. The tribesmen waited in tense excitement. At the ap
pointed moment they rushed from the bamboos, uttering the
war cries of centuries past. Quickly a tribal chief slashed off
the head of the white-clad stranger. Then yelling in a frenzy
of excitement, the tribes people carried their trophy up the
winding mountain trail to the shores of Sun-Moon Lake.

There upon a white beach was a great fire. Around it gath
ered all the peoples of the tribes. The feast had been spread,
but would not be eaten until after hours of celebration, after
ancient rites had been performed. And in the hours of early
morning the last head would be placed upon a pole in front
of the big chief.

It was the big chiefs privilege to carry the bloody trophy
into the fire's light. The tribes people pressed around him in
excitement.

88

OF MEN AND DREAMS

Suddenly a great hush fell upon the throng. The singing,
the shouting ended abruptly. Faces froze in shock and horror.
For the light from the great fire cast its glow upon the face
of their beloved Magistrate Wu, calm and smiling in death.

Many years have passed, and now any man, white or yel
low, may walk the wild mountain trails of Formosa without
fear. The memory of a man who gave his life that others
might learn and live more happily is kept alive and ever before
the mountain people by the tiny shrines perched upon the
mountain peaks, built in his memory.

Chapter 2

THE heart o Asia, the story o its struggle, cannot be
understood only in terms of its leaders. The lives and
statements of die Chiangs and Rhees, the Maos and
the Ho Chih Mins tell but a part of the story. It is in the
dreams and heartaches, the victories and defeats of little men
and women that much of the story lies.

Mr. Hsu Ping Wu, better known as Tommy, is one of those
whose story is important. This is the same Tommy Hsu who
first told me the later oft-heard story of Magistrate Wu. It was
he who introduced me to the wonders of sterile night-soil.

We should at once understand that Tommy is not impor
tant. He is a very minor Chinese official. Although once in the
Chinese army, he wears no decorations. Neither as civilian or
soldier has he gained fame. He is but one of the several mil
lion Chinese who have entered the third act in the drama of
life in today's China.

There are those like Dr. C. who stayed behind, who suffer
but whose spirits remain unbroken. There are those like Cap
tain Shih and Magistrate Chang Chow who left the mainland,
but who have now to play their roles on lonely island out
posts. Then there are the Tommy Hsu's who managed to
reach Formosa, there to play a role that may determine the
fate of those on the islands, those still in mainland bondage.

90

OF MEN AND DREAMS

I first met Tommy Hsu in 1943, at a lonely boat landing
near Amoy on the mainland and directly opposite Kinmen,
which was then held by the Japanese. The Second World War
was not going well for the Chinese, and part of the China
Coast was held, or was threatened by Japanese invasion. I had
walked thirty miles that day, always close to Japanese posi
tions along the coast. The night before I had slept in a sam
pan, for I had to rendezvous with one of my agents out of
Japanese-held Amoy, and a tossing boat seemed best suited
for that purpose.

It was the day following a not-too-restful night on the
water, and my destination was an inn, five hard miles away by
foot. I was not only tired but homesick and therefore respond
ed quickly when a young Chinese spoke to me.

"My farm is near here," he said in English. "You seem very
tired. We would be honored if you would spend the night
with us."

My grateful look was all the acceptance needed. So it was
that I met Tommy Hsu and his charming wife. It was a meet
ing much frowned upon by Sing Kie, my secretary and general
factotum. As we traveled the few miles to Tommy Hsu's farm
Sing Kie reproached me in whispers.

"He may be a spy, in the pay of the Japanese. You should
let me handle business like this."

But I was far too exhausted to worry about spies. I thor
oughly enjoyed the small talk and relaxation, the quiet peace
of the farm so near the battlef ront, the excellent dinner cooked
by Tommy's wife.

The next day I moved on, up the dynamited coastal high
way, to forget Tommy Hsu and his wife.

It was ten years later that our paths crossed again, and then
purely by chance. I asked the American officials of the Joint
Commission on Rural Reconstruction if they could loan me a
guide for a few days, so that I might see something of Na
tionalist China's land reform program. It was pure coincidence

91

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

that Tommy Hsu was in Taipei, that he was shortly returning
to his post as a JCRR Inspector at Taichung. And so it was
that I drove south to Taichung with him, to visit scores of
farms, to travel with him for several days, covering hundreds
of miles of central and southern Formosa.

Tommy and I talked to rice farmers and tea planters and I
walked over so many fields of this and that, that I lost count.
In between our stops, we talked of old times, and I heard the
story of what had happened to Tommy and his wife during
the ten years since we first met near Tungan in south Fukien.
It is a story no more dramatic, indeed less so, than thousands
of others. Yet it is a story which gave me an understanding of
the tremendous change that has taken place in Free China
since the days of bitter defeat. Unlike the stories of so many
others, it can be told. Tommy's father has escaped to Hong
Kong; his mother crossed to Formosa during the last days of
Shanghai. He has no close relatives who can be tortured and
persecuted.

Tommy Hsu belongs to that class of society which is in
some degree responsible for China's present sorrow: the edu
cated families of means which could have done so much more
than they did do to give the people of China good govern
ment. His father is a general of the old school. The family land
holdings in Fukien were extensive. The Hsus were landlords
and warlords. And it is upon the shoulders of both land
lords and warlords that responsibility for the success of Com
munism must in part fall.

"Things got worse and worse after we saw you in Fukien/'
Tommy began his story. "You remember it was not long after
wards that the Japanese landed all along the coast. We evacu
ated again the fifth time during the war years. I joined the
army and went south to Kwangtung province.

"We did little fighting. In fact, I never saw any action my
self. And at the end of the war we went back to the farm in
Fukien. I suppose that is when I really got interested in f arai-

9*

OF MEN AND DREAMS

ing and agriculture. The farm was run down and needed much,
attention. We worked hard, and we were just getting things
in order when the Communists swept across the Yangtse.

"There was never any question but that Fukien would fall.
Everywhere the traitors and Red agents were at work. The
only question was whether or not we should take the chance
and stay on.

"I had two very black marks against me. I was a landlord*
and I had been an officer in the Nationalist Army. It seemed
the wise thing to do to get out.

"We sold the things we could: pigs, water buffaloes and the
cattle. It was a forced sale, and we got only $300. We simply
abandoned the farm to the tenants, and my wife and baby
and I went to Amoy. There were many ships there taking
army people to Formosa. For $270 we bought passage for the
three of us.

"When we landed in Formosa in 1949 we had $30 left. The
first months were difficult. We very nearly starved. A college
education did not do me much good because there were thou
sands like me. The government was demoralized. We expect
ed the Communists to invade all through that first year. Had
it not been for the Korean war I believe they would have
invaded.

"One day in the newspaper I read that there would be ex
aminations for persons to work with American authorities. I
took the exams and passed, and that is how I ended up work
ing for JCRR."

We were traveling through the lush jungles surrounding
Sun-Moon Lake and Tommy paused to point out one of the
many shrines built to the memory of Magistrate Wu. Being a
philosopher as well as agriculturalist, Tommy started telling
of the dreams he had once had when he lived on the main
land. In the evolution of these dreams, his story is not unlike
that of the Chinese magistrate who gave his life for the abo
rigines.

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

"During those years on the mainland I had three dreams/*
Tommy explained. "First, soon after I graduated from college
I wanted to be a merchant prince. And I knew exactly what
field I would make my fortune in perfume. Just think, China
was becoming modern. Our women were dressing differently.
I could make a fortune selling perfume to beautiful women!

"I'd go to Paris and learn all the tricks. Eventually I would
have offices in Paris, in Hong Kong, Shanghai and perhaps
Peking. I'd not only make a fortune, but I would be dealing
every day, all day, with the most beautiful women of China!

"But somehow that dream didn't work out. So I got another
one quickly. You know my father is a general. I decided that
I would join the army. With my father's name to help, I would
rise fast. Many men would be under my command. I might
control a whole province, perhaps even a whole section of
China!

"I tried the army, several times. First, it was by choice and
then during the war by force. But it wasn't what I wanted
after all. I don't like bloodshed, and perhaps I am really a
coward at heart. So that dream, too, faded away.

"My last dream was pretty practical, maybe. I had read
many American cowboy stories when I was young. I was
fascinated by your West, by buffalo hunts, fires on the plains
all that stuff.

"So I decided that I would go to our wild west, to Singkiang
or Kansu, and with the family money I'd buy up thousands of
acres. I'd have a palatial ranch house somewhere, and I would
soon be a cattle baron."

Tommy smiled, as he continued: "I can't really remember
what happened to that dream. Perhaps war changed it. You
know I can't even remember a time in my life when there
wasn't a war in China. Maybe my father put his foot down.
Perhaps when faced with the difficulty of life in west China,
I gave it up myself. Anyway, it's gone. And here I am in a
little city in Formosa, teaching farmers how to use better

94

OF MEN AND DREAMS

seeds, setting up projects to make night-soil safe for man
kind!"

But there was no bitterness in Tommy Hsu's acceptance of
his fate. There was no bitterness that three beautiful dreams
had evaporated, that a great and valuable ancestral farm was
gone, that he and his family were now exiles, only 120 miles
from home in the manner in which men measure distances,
but for all practical purposes, ten thousand times ten thou
sand li away.

All of us have dreams that we must give up. I, too, have
had my share. But at least I have been able to live in peace,
the wars I have seen have been seen at my own choosing. I
know that in all probability (although there are times when
I am not so sure) no enemy will ever confiscate my home,
that I will never have to make the choice to flee or stay on.

I felt that I was prying, but I felt also that I must know if
Tommy still was able to dream.

"Yes," he answered. "I still have a dream, and this one will
materialize, I'm sure. When we go back to the mainland I
want to become a rural sociologist. There won't be as much
money in it as in the perfume business! But here on Formosa
I have learned much about my people that I never knew be
fore. I have learned to respect the farmer, to understand his
problems.

"When we go back home we must make good. To make
good we must have a program for the people. There will be
some of us who will slip back into old ways, who will seek
only to get rich quickly, who will forget all the lessons of
these past years. To counterbalance these, there must be many
among us who have not forgotten, who will be trained to
make our government what it has become here.

"We will have only a short time to make good, and all the
world will be watching us. I will go to school for a little while,
to pick up some of the theory that I have never learned. Then
I will become a rural sociologist, perhaps in Fukien near our

95

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

old estates. I might even become an official in the land reform
program.'*

Then Tommy Hsu's face brightened, his voice became eager
as he continued. "Think of the tremendous problems we will
have to face: reconstruction, getting a whole new educational
program started, setting up agricultural experiment stations,
starting an honest land reform program all over China! We
have done it all here, but this is a small island. On the main
land our problems will be multiplied a thousand times!"

I have seen Tommy Hsu twice since that day we traveled
together over the twisting highways in the Formosan moun
tains. He is no longer an agricultural inspector at Taichung.
Perhaps he would not even realize it himself, but he has taken
a tremendous step towards realization of his final dream.

Tommy Hsu volunteered for special duty in the guerrilla
islands a few weeks after I left him at Taichung. For the Chi
nese government wisely decided that the rural reforms of
Formosa must be transplanted quickly to the islands, making
of them a show case fronting directly upon the enslaved main
land.

Tommy Hsu made the first surveys of Kinmen, Liehyu, the
Ta-chen Islands. I have read his reports; they influenced me
to visit guerrilla-land. For Tommy Hsu reports more than sta
tistics, he is able to capture the drama of Kinmen, the dreams
of farmers and fishermen, can make the successful demonstra
tion of a new seed variety as thrilling as a battle. It is unfortu
nate that the representatives of the American press who began
suddenly to take notice of Kinmen in the fall of 1954 did not
read Tommy's reports before making their own inaccurate
estimates of the island's area, defenses and significance.

Tommy has never had time to get the "theory" he feels he
needs. He has been too busy to go back to school again. But
he has been able to capture the feeling, the hopes and the
fears of the people who live on the guerrilla islands. He has
won the respect of farmers and generals alike. Already there

96

OF MEN AND DREAMS

are scores of JCRR projects under way, and a trickle of Amer
ican money is going into guerrilla-land.

During the late summer of 1954, four American destroyers
visited Ta-chen. This was a significant visit indeed. For it was
the first indication the people of the islands had that the
mighty United States might, just might, extend its interest to
their tiny outposts.

And it is not too far-fetched to believe that Tommy Hsu
had a little to do with the visit, with the fact that an Ameri
can admiral stopped briefly at a -guerrilla stronghold. His re
port, as much as anything else, began to focus attention on the
island in 1953 and 1954.

But of course again we must admit that Tommy Hsu is not
an important person, that he is but one of many, and that a
few men with dreams will not be enough. Perhaps so. But the
program of which Tommy Hsu is a part is of tremendous im
portance. It is a program that has never been given attention
in the press of America. Yet the successful activities of the
Joint Commission on Rural Reconstruction on Formosa and
now extended to the guerrilla islands point the way to what
can be accomplished in Asia. JCRR may well become a blue
print for Asia's oppressed, might and can be the ultimate de
feat of Communism in that part of Asia which has the will to
remain free.

The story of JCRR, its accomplishments on Formosa, its
methods of operation, is tremendously heartening. Not only
has JCRR breathed new life into vast segments of Free China's
officialdom, it has proved that Americans and Chinese can
work together at little cost to America, yet can with little
money spent, accomplish miracles.

And miracles there must be if China is to be freed. It was
enslaved as much by the force of ideas as by the force of arms.
If it be free again, indeed if the rest of Asia is to remain free,
ideas and dreams must play their part. The intelligence ex
perts of CIA, measuring and balancing die fate of Asia in

97

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

terms of divisions and air squadrons, seem not to understand
that Communism cannot be prevailed over by force of arms
alone.

The JCRR idea, of practical aid at the rice-roots, has worked
wonders on Formosa. If it can be transplanted to the main*
land, if it can also work there, it will have the power of a
hundred divisions. That is why I traveled five hundred miles
on Formosa, seeing what JCRR has done. That is why I spent
as much time studying JCRR operations on the guerrilla is
lands as I did visiting military installations.

Chapter 3

W"W 7~ou know we are -able to do things even the Japanese
I/ could never do!" Mr. Yeh exclaimed.
A We were sitting in the testing room of a tea factory
high in the mountains above Taichung, Tommy Hsu, the man
ager of the tea factory, and myself. Then Mr. Yeh Won Sui
proudly ticked off the accomplishments: tea production in
the district increased from 33,000 catties ( a cattie is one and
a third pounds ) under the Japanese to 250,000 catties; a bet
ter grade tea than ever before; quicker growth; disease resis
tant plants.

Mr. Yeh fumbled in his desk drawer when I asked him the
reason for the great increase in production.

"This is what did it," he told me as he brought out a dog
eared copy of a booklet on tea production. "This book teaches
us how to fertilize, how to cultivate, how to pick the leaves ?

The little booklet showed the familiar imprint of the Joint
Commission on Rural Reconstruction. It had been jointly
written by an American and a Chinese. It was a simply writ
ten manual, filled with line drawings and illustrations. It be
gan the story of tea in these words: "Mother China has many
children. But unless the children are properly fed and cared
for they will not be healthy. Tea plants too must be properly

99

STILL THE RICE GROVES GREEN

cared for, must be properly nourished if the leaves are to be
healthy and of good quality."

"But, Mr. Yeh, the Japanese were among the world's best
in tea culture, were they not? How is it that a little book
can make so much difference?"

Mr. Yeh replied quickly. "There is one great difference now.
The Japanese ordered us. Now we are taught."

Yeh is thirty-five years old, a native Formosan, which means
that his family came over from the Fukien mainland two or
three hundred years ago. He has spent his life in the tea fields,
is now the manager of a big plantation. As we sipped and
tested the various brands packaged from his neat rows, we
talked of other things that have a bearing on how many leaves
can be harvested from the bushes.

"Tell me honestly, Mr. Yeh, as one TLao' Fukien to another,
how is life in general now as compared to life under the Japa
nese?"

We spoke in the Foochow dialect so that it was unneces
sary for Tommy Hsu to interpret the reply.

"I can answer your question quickly and honestly," Mr.
Yeh replied. "As I mentioned before about tea culture, so in
all aspects of life under the Japanese we were told what to
do, what to study. We had absolutely no freedom. Even up
here in the mountains we were always afraid, never knew
when our remarks would be overheard, or even when our
thoughts might be read. Now we have more freedom than I
can ever remember, I can travel to Taichung any day I wish,
without special passes. I can manage my tea plants as I wish.
I can send my children to school if I wish. I can read many
things/*

And then because he was an honest man, speaking hon
estly, Mr. Yeh added, "And I can speak out freely on almost
all tilings."

Therein lies the secret of the great success of the rural pro-

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

gram of which Tommy Hsu is a part. Men have been lead and
taught, rather than ordered. And along with the teaching has
come basic freedoms never before enjoyed by the Taiwanese
In its successes and in its methods, JCRR points the way to a
program that can be freedom's defense against Communism
among the rural people of Asia. While the polished and bril
liant Mr. Nehru has talked of what must be done for the peas
ants, the government on Formosa has acted. To date the
actions have touched the lives of nearly every farmer on the
island.

Consider the problems facing those who work on Formosa-
Ten miles west of Mr. Yeh's tea fields the vast aborigine re
serve begins. In a wild and tangled mass of Formosan moun
tains live the nearly quarter of a million aborigines, people oJ
Indonesian stock who came to the island centuries ago. These
are the "Indians" of Formosa, with their own language and
customs, the people who once upon a time were headhunters,
Few of them speak Mandarin, the official language of China
Many of them do speak Japanese, for that language was forced
upon them. So the Chinese JCRR inspector who works with
the aborigines must speak Japanese.

Within a few miles after one leaves the borders of the abo
riginal reserve, one enters the farming lands where the Amo)
dialect of China is spoken. These are the people whose an
cestors came to Formosa in the seventeenth and eighteentib
centuries. Few of these Taiwanese speak Mandarin, so thai
the Chinese officials who work with them must also kno\\
their language.

On the borders of Tommy Hsu's district one finds severa
of the many Hakka settlements. The Hakkas (Guest Peo
pies) have come a long way in their torturous migrations
From somewhere in Northern China at the dawn of civiliza
tion, they migrated into the mountains along the Fukien
Kwangtung border near the coast of China. Thence many o

10:

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

them joined the migration to Formosa three hundred years
ago. Tommy Hsu and the others who work with the Hakkas
must speak the distinctive Hakka language.

Further South are the extensive settlements of those who
crossed from Kwangtung province. They still speak their na
tive Cantonese.

And so the work on Formosa is a gigantic task of working
with minority groups. Tommy Hsu must use Amoy, Hakka,
Cantonese and Mandarin in his daily work. The inspectors
of JCRR must know English so that they can work with their
American advisors. The men who work in the high mountains
must know Japanese, in order to reach the aborigine chiefs.

What has the Joint Commission on Rural Reconstruction
accomplished and how does it operate? Statistics tell a little
of the story. More of the story is seen merely by traveling the
highways and the byways. For still more, one must talk to
the farmers who have benefited most from the first program
in Asia's history that has actually resulted in a better deal for
the tiller of the soil.

Fanners can be driven to produce more. That is the method
used in Communist countries, and it works up to a point.
Farmers can also be led to produce more. Statistics clearly
show that Formosa's farmers have produced more, far more
even than when managed and driven by the efficient Japa
nese.

From the 1938 peak production of 1,402,000 tons, rice farm
ers on Formosa produced over 1,600,000 tons in 1952, and
each year the production goes higher. Once forced to import
rice, Free China now has several hundred thousand tons
to export. From a peak production of 1,770,000 tons, under
the Japanese, sweet potato production has increased to over
2,000,000 tons. The production of wheat has tripled over the
best year under the Japanese.

In some less important categories production has not as yet
reached the peak set by the Japanese in the years before

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

World War II. But significance lies in the fact that since
"take over/' when Nationalist China regained Formosa from
the Japanese, production of everything has been increasing.
This means that the people of Formosa not only have more
to eat. They have more than enough to eat, and the surplus
can be exported to help in the developing of a balanced
economy.

How has this vast increase been accomplished? Could it
have been accomplished if the farmers were dissatisfied, if
they hated the Nationalist government? Has there been any
case in Formosa where farmers, in an act of defiance against
their government, have dumped their produce into the river
rather than sell it to their peoples' government?

Formosa's progress in agriculture has come because of
many things: more fertilizer, an excellent pest control pro
gram, better and more irrigation, use of new seed varieties.
But above all it has come about because of the manner in
which these changes have been sold to the Formosan peasant
by the men of JCRR, by the manner in which JCRR operates*

The Joint Commission on Rural Reconstruction was cre
ated in 1948 during China's darkest hours. The act which
established JCRR as far as the U.S. is concerned stated that
the Joint Commission "shall be composed of two citizens of
the United States to be appointed by the President of the
United States and three citizens of China to be appointed by
the President of China." JCRR was a last ditch effort to give
the peasant of China a break, and as far as the mainland was
concerned, it came too late.

The United States contributed to JCRR's failure to get into
operation quickly enough to help on the mainland. Many
months were required by the Department of State and Presi
dent Truman before the two American commissioners were
even appointed. For this was the beginning of the "wait and
see" period during which the Department of State was torn
by conflicting advice and, not being able to declare itself on

103

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

the issues, clambered onto the fence to watch the Communist
victory.

On Formosa where JCRR has proved itself successful, its
strength lies in its "jointness," in the fact that it is not a pro
gram in which Americans tell Chinese what to do but rather
one where Chinese and Americans together decide what is
best.

In simplest terms, the objectives of JCRR are to increase
agricultural production, promote rural welfare and encour
age good government. Projects calling for JCRR aid may be
submitted by any governmental or private organization on
any level. Thus a farmers' association, a city government, all
may request that which they believe is needed to better the
lot of the people who live in their area.

When a request for a JCRR project is received, American
and Chinese experts are sent to see if a problem exists and
if the proposed project will solve the problem. Sometimes
the experts do not approve the project; sometimes they do,
in which case a project proposal is then drafted. Since JCRR
moved to Formosa, over three thousand projects have been
submitted. The selectiveness of operations is indicated by the
fact that only about twenty per cent are approved.

Sponsorship of the approved projects has been in the hands
of over 150 organizations. There are Hsien (county govern
ments ) , city governments, farmers' associations, cooperatives
and church groups.

Another aspect of its strength is in its methods of financ
ing. I visited a rural health center, built by JCRR in the
city of Tai-yuan. The total cost of the project was $873,000
(Taiwan) of which the city Government of Tai-yuan had
provided $800,000 and JCRR the balance. The people who
benefit from JCRR help pay for the help they get. The pro
portion of JCRR money per project becomes progressively
less and less as people become more willing, even anxious to
help themselves.

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

JCRR projects are often simple, sometimes peculiar. I have
already written of the night-soil disposal project at Taichung.
I have mentioned one rural health center, of which there are
many. All through the land one sees new compost houses,
built from JCRR blueprints; concrete drying areas for rice,
taking the place of the old patch of hardened earth outside
each farmhouse. In scores of farm homes I saw JCRR posters
on the walls; posters telling how to use fertilizer, or which
insecticides to use for which pests. I saw new water supplies,
new irrigation projects, locally sponsored, locally financed
and locally managed and built.

JCRR has literally worked itself into the very fabric of
rural life in Formosa. But it must have cost a lot of money,
it must require much personnel, the reader may say.

During its five years' operation on Formosa JCRR has cost
the American taxpayer less than one million dollars in aid
funds appropriated by the Congress. The total staff of JCRR
includes 260 persons. Of these only thirteen are Americans,
including the two presidentially-appointed American Com
missioners.

Measured in dollars alone, this investment has paid for it
self hundreds of times over each year. With few dollars and
fewer men, through JCRR, America has had a part in a mir
acle of progress on Formosa.

But that miracle would never have occured had not JCRR
sponsored, with the whole-hearted support of the Nationalist
Government, a far-reaching land reform program on For
mosa that won the support of the peasants.

The land reform program was not accomplished overnight,
nor without opposition. But the opposition was not ruthlessly
liquidated; it is even now still vocal. No man, or few men are
public spirited enough to give up the family holdings of gen
erations without a struggle.

The first step in the land reform program was the reduc
tion of rentals charged by Formosa's landlords from an aver-

105

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

age of 55 per cent of the annual yield of the principal crop
to a maximum of 37.5 per cent of that crop. All over Formosa
I saw abuilding what the fanners call "37.5 houses" the bet
ter homes made possible by that great reduction in rent. The
reduction of rent has also made it possible to feed families
better, to buy more consumer goods and thus to strengthen
the whole economy.

I talked to farmer Li Tai Ho who lives off the coastal high
way north of Taichung. Farmer Li is now building a new
"37.5 house." What, in terms of dollars and bushels did the
reduction of rental mean to him? Li Tai Ho farms one hec
tare of rice paddy, producing about 2700 pounds of rice from
his two annual harvests. Before rent reduction, he paid 1500
pounds of rice in rental. Now he pays slightly over one thou
sand pounds a year. He has an extra five hundred pounds to
sell to whomever he pleases, for the best price he can get.
With that extra income he can build his new home, buy fer
tilizer and food, can visit the nearest JCRR Public Health
center and buy at cut rates the treatment and drugs he or a
member of his family might need in time of illness.

The next step in land reform was the sale of public land >
making up over 20 per cent of all the arable land on the is
land. To date, 50,000 hectares of this land has been sold to
96,900 former tenants and farm laborers. The price of the
land is fixed at 2.5 times the value of its annual main crop,
and the buyer pays in ten years.

The third step was most difficult of all, for it involved
150,000 hectares (one hectare equals 2.47 acres) of land held
by landlords. JCRR financed the program of re-surveying
and classifying that was necessary before the program could
be fairly and impartially implemented. To date 240,000 form
er tenants have taken advantage of this third step in For
mosa's land reform program, and are now buying land on
long terms. These successive steps have reduced farm ten
ancy on the island to about twenty per cent.

106

OF MEN AND DREAMS

I visited many men who were buying their lands, men like
Mr. Li Jen Chen (and I noticed that the Chinese officials
with me addressed him as Mister.}

"My family came here from Fukien 200 years ago/' he told
me. "In all that time no member of the family ever owned
land. Now for the first time we are buying our own land."

And then he proudly informed me that he was paying
twice the required amount each year because he wanted to
own the land in five years, instead of ten. Li Jen Chen also
has a fine old Chinese farmhouse of his own. It was not neces
sary for him to do so, but the landlord for whom Li was once
a tenant gave him the house.

Like many Americans I am buying a home "on time." Mine
is a twenty year mortgage, and it still has many years to run.
I can imagine how glorious will be the day when the mort
gage is paid, when the house is mine, when no more will hun
dreds of dollars go into interest. How much more thrilling
it must be for the Lfs of Formosa, whose ancestors never
knew the pride of ownership, to at last own a farm, to have
the privilege of using the land as they wish it used and not
in the way a landlord orders it used!

As I stated earlier, there are difficulties in connection with
land reform. The Nationalist Government admitted that dur
ing 1951 alone there were 13,303 cases of dispute and litiga
tion. Some landlords object strenuously to selling their an
cient holdings. Some tenants argue about price and details.

How great a difference there is in Formosa and mainland
China in the manner of settling these disputes! How many
of the 13,303 disputants on Formosa were led through the
streets for execution? None. How many peoples' courts con
ducted trials of landlords? None.

In the foothills east of Taichung I noticed a fine new fac
tory. Tommy Hsu informed me that it had been recently built
by a dispossessed landlord. He had owned considerable land
in the area and had been forced to sell all but a couple of

107

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

acres. He put the money from his land into building a small
factory to process tung oil.

Just 120 miles across the straits of Formosa I know of an
other landlord who lost his land. He was not much of a land
lord at that. He owned nine acres of land near Futsing. Some
of it was good rice land, some of it was waste land. But he
was definitely classified as a landlord. It was not too difficult
for the Communists to find someone to prefer charges against
him. If no injustice has been committed by a landlord, it is a
simple matter to force someone to invent some. Or if that
fails, it is possible to go back one or more generations. Per
haps the father or grandfather committed a sin against the
people.

And so the Futsing landlord was arrested, was hauled
through the streets, was tried in a peoples' court. Men and
women he did not even know came forward to bear wit
ness against him. He was harangued and beaten, his family
shamed and at last he was mercifully dragged through the
streets to the Futsing hillside where he and his fellow "crimi
nals" were executed.

It is a strange commentary upon the American press that
so much has been written about the wonderful land reform
of Communist China and so little about what has taken place
on Formosa. In Fukien Province, just across the straits from
Formosa, 400,000 landlords have been dispossessed. None
has been paid for the land taken. Approximately 52,000 have
been executed, thousands more are in prison, other thousands
have fled to the hills.

On the island of Formosa not one landlord has been ex
ecuted. No person has ever been imprisoned because he was
unfortunate enough to have owned land.

The thousands of ex-Communist prisoners of war who re
nounced Red China at the tents of Panmunjom and who now
have returned to Formosa marvel at what they have seen,

108

OF MEN AND DREAMS

Over and over they say, "Why if the people on the mainland
knew how you handled land reform there would be a revolu
tion!" Unfortunately the people there do not know. They do
not even know about it here in America.

I have seen every phase of the land reform program on
Formosa. At Tai-yuan I visited the land office where the im
mense job of classifying land holdings, of checking the rec
ords of each plot is handled. I have watched surveyors of the
land office in the field checking the lines of plots so that
the records may be correct. I stopped once in south Formosa
to talk to a fanner who worked his fields while nearby a sur
veying crew was checking his lines.

"In the old days/* he remarked, "if any well dressed person
stopped near my farm I would be afraid, More than likely it
would be a tax collector, forcing me to pay more taxes or
taxes I had already paid." And then pointing to the surveyors
he continued, "now things are different. If a car or truck
stops along the highway I am no longer afraid. It may be
men from the land office, or it may be some agricultural peo
ple from JCRR to help me/'

Yes, JCRR must be given a great deal of credit for the
success of Formosa's land reform. It was JCRR money which
financed the tremendous job of resurveying and classifying
hundreds of thousands of acres. JCRR experts helped estab
lish the land offices, guided the program from beginning to
end.

Although it is only one hundred miles across to the main
land, it is difficult for the news of Formosa's new deal to get
across. The news can spread in small measure through leaf
lets dropped by Nationalist planes. But there are few who
dare to read, fewer still who dare to listen to Radio Free
China.

If JCRR's program is to be known, it must move closer to
the mainland, and that is just what it is doing.

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

I spent three days on Kinmen traveling with Bill Fippen,
one of JCRR's two American commissioners. Bill is a presi
dential appointee, remember. There is no need for him to
endanger himself, to take the chance that one always takes
in visiting the offshore islands. But Bill Fippen is typical of
most of the JCRR staff, American and Chinese. They go
where they are needed, regardless of discomfort and danger.

JCRR's program on the offshore islands only began in 1953,
after help had been requested by the commanding general
on Kinmen, after Tommy Hsu had gone over and made a
survey of needs and possibilities. And of those possibilities
Tommy Hsu wrote in his report: "The sea is the meeting
ground of fishermen from these islands and those from the
Communist mainland. The fishermen from the mainland will
hear of what we are doing on Kinmen, will take the news
home with them. From Kinmen, soon the news of JCRR will
spread up and down the coast."

So I traveled over Kinmen's dusty roads with Commis
sioner Bill Fippen and two American-educated agricultural
specialists. With them I attended farmers 7 meetings, visited
experimental plots and the Berkshire boar who has become
a citizen of great importance on the island.

At the farmers' meetings the fanners were slow to speak
up. Most could not speak Mandarin, nearly all were puzzled
and a little bit frightened. Never before had anyone taken an
interest in their problems. Somewhere there must be a catch.
Like the mountaineer of Tennessee, the fanner of China is
extremely suspicious of government in any form.

But slowly I saw the attitude relax, change from suspicion
to interest and finally to enthusiasm. On Kinmen even more
than on Formosa, JCRR must lead men to a better life.

Suspicions and superstitions must be overcome. Before
farmers of a whole area will plant a new seed variety or use
a new fertilizer, some one or two must be found who will

no

OF MEN AND DREAMS

agree to allow their farms to be used as experimental plots.
Before all the farmers will use the Berkshire boar, one or two
must be found to take the first step.

Bill Fippen and his crew were on Kinmen for over a week,
and by week's end I could sense and see the change. The
last two days the people started coming to JCRR. All through
the days and until late at night there were delegations calling
upon Bill at our guest house headquarters. Representatives
from a fishing village came, asking if JCRR could assist in
building a cold storage plant. From the northern end of the
island came a deputation asking for help with their peanut
crop; assistance was requested a score of times in getting
more water.

But the most exciting caller for me was one who came a
few hours before the JCRR men were to leave for Formosa.
A young man came hesitantly into the Guest House, asking
for the "men who help the farmers." Having learned during
my days on Kinmen to spot guerrillas from my home section
of Fukien by the numbers on their insignia, I saw at once
that this man belonged to the Foochow-speaking guerrilla
units in training on the island. Quickly we established our
identities. He was from Lungtien and had attended a school
my father had established. Later in life, he had belonged to
a church my father built.

It was a thrilling experience for me to act as interpreter on
that occasion. Captain Song had walked ten miles over the
rugged Kinmen mountains to meet the JCRR people. He had
an unusual problem, and I was able to see JCRR go into op
eration to solve that problem.

Captain Song is the leader of a group of guerrillas from
the Lungtien Peninsula and Haitang Island. Two hundred
dependents had been moved out of Communist territory and
had arrived on Kinmen. Seventy-five families in all, they had
left everything behind. There were no tools, no seeds, noth-

111

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

ing. The guerrilla command had settled the refugees on bar
ren land; had helped with simple housing; but unless the
families could begin to farm again, they would be living on
handouts.

One by one Captain Song detailed the simple needs: a
certain number of hoes and rakes and spades; only a few
ploughs, for these would be used as community tools. Two
yoke of oxen only, for these too must serve the whole colony;
cabbage seed, enough for each family to begin a garden plot;
rice, sweet potatoes to be communally cultivated until the
colony was established.

Slowly I saw the shape of new life being formed for people
who had nothing but the will and courage to escape from
enslavement. In the case of Captain Song's guerrillas, JCRR
will make an exception. It will pay all the costs, will provide
all the tools and seed, the oxen, a few chickens and ducks,
until the colony has established itself.

JCRR's help to Song's guerrillas is simple as are all JCRR
projects in guerrilla-land. For all the Ta-chen islands, the
most northerly Nationalist holdings, JCRR had appropriated
just 370,000 Formosan dollars. This is the equivalent of less
than $15,000, The money is little, the projects simple. Most
costly, and taking a third of the total budget, is a project
to train technical personnel from among the civilians and
the guerrillas. For JCRR never forgets that people must be
trained to help themselves. There will be agricultural and
health trainees, new school teachers. A tiny hospital for civil
ians will be built. All the houses will be sprayed with DDT,
handled by specially trained guerrilla spraying teams; $1500
worth of drugs will be supplied; $275 will be spent on seeds
and new farm implements.

And Tommy Hsu will shuttle from Ta-chen to Kinmen to
Matsu and back to the security of Formosa, planning, co
ordinating, helping the people of the guerrilla islands to help
themselves.

OF MEN AND DREAMS

Tommy's original task was to survey problems and pos
sibilities on Kinmen, a natural assignment since his native
place lay less than fifty miles distant on the coast. He knew
the local dialect and local problems well. But after JCRR re
alized the potential on the islands, it decided that a full-time
man was needed. The job was offered Hsu, and he immedi
ately accepted, even though it meant separation from his
family. Mrs. Hsu accepted the new arrangements gracefully
and is now also doing her part by working in a chemical fac
tory on Formosa.

Each day scores of fishermen put out from all the islands,
to meet and visit in that only contact that is allowed the peo
ple of divided China. For it is difficult to divide the sea into
Communist and Nationalist fishing grounds. As Tommy Hsu
said, "The sea is the meeting ground." And from the meeting
ground the news of China's new deal is spreading out up and
down the coast of China from Shanghai to Hong Kong.

Brief engagements these be, between a fisherman out of
Amoy, Foochow or Wenchow and fishermen out of Matsu,
Ta-chen or Kinmen. But brief as the engagements may be,
they are far more important in affecting the future than is a
raid on Kinmen by forty Communists. The raiders kill a few
Nationalists, take one prisoner, and their feat is headlined in
American newspapers. "Communists strike at Chiang Islands.
Nationalist Positions Imperiled," the headlines shout. But not
yet has everyone understood that in the war between Free
and Enslaved China there are weapons equal in importance
to guns. There are engagements between fishermen of more
importance than engagements between ships and planes.

Free China's new deal for its peasants is a tremendously
important part of the total war which I have attempted to
describe. As far as JQnmen and the rest of guerrilla-land are
concerned, it may yet fail as an effective weapon, brought
into action too late, its effectiveness lessened because the
Free World has had insufficient interest to make available

113

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

also the military weapons in conjunction with, which it must
be used.

The total JCRR budget for all guerrilla-land totals the
equivalent of $125,000 U.S. to date. The projects are simple.,
just as the JCRR projects for Formosa are simple: $14,000
(New Taiwan) for the purchase of Kankrej bulls and Berk
shire boar for Kinmen; $51,200 (NT) for the repair of hog
shelters; $226,188 (NT) for the ground work necessary for
the beginning of land reform on Kinmen; $13,325 (NT) for
the training of midwives on Kinmen; $48,350 (NT) for DDT
spraying of all households on the Ta-chen Islands; $134,500
(NT) for building a hospital ward for the Ta-chen Islands.

The U.S. dollar cost of these JCRR projects can be approxi
mated by dividing each project figure by twenty-five. The
cost to the United States taxpayer is from twenty-five to
ninety per cent less than the total dollar figure. For remem
ber that, over-all, Free China's government, national and lo
cal, pays the major cost of JCRR.

When I consider the tiny amount JCRR has allocated for
guerrilla-land, I think inevitably of Magistrate Chang Chow's
remark about Kinmen's being the West Berlin of Asia. When
the chips were down, the United States spent hundreds of
millions of dollars in an airlift to keep the people of West
Berlin alive. And even though the forces of the Free World
within Berlin could not have held out for more than an hour
or so had they been attacked, we made it plain that an attack
would be resisted to the limit of our vast strength. Of course
no attack came, and, confronted with strength, the Commu
nists lifted the blockade.

Guerrilla-land's American Tift" has included no fighting
men, no strong policy statement, only the $125,000 in JCRR
assistance. It may be, probably will be, too little. But I be
lieve JCRR has been enough to make Formosa very difficult
to conquer. The men who boast proudly that "we can do
things even the Japanese could not do" have a determination

114

OF MEN AND DREAMS

and strength that will stand firm against everything but over
whelming attack. For JCRR is not the only great accom
plishment on Formosa. Free China's strength lies also in the
accomplishments of its engineers, its soldiers and generals on
Formosa, in its painful but demonstrable growth in constitu
tional government.

Chapter 4

SUTH of Taichung a wide river flows westward from the
towering jungle mountain mass of Formosa, emptying
into the South China Sea. Called the Cho Shiu, it has
been a troublesome river, overflowing vast areas, creating
down through the years a broad expanse of gravel beds. The
Japanese tried hard to throw a bridge across the river. From
an economic standpoint the project was important., for in wet
weather nothing could cross. In order to move goods and
people from north to south, a long detour through the moun
tains was used many months of the year. Militarily, too, the
necessity of a bridge across the river was obvious.

Yet, try as they would, the Japanese during their time on
Formosa could not bridge the river. The remarkable thing is
that what they could not accomplish, David Hung, a Chinese
engineer, graduate of an American university and before that
of the Anglo-Chinese college in Foochow where my father
and my sister once taught, was able to do.

David Hung and the Silo bridge are almost synonymous
on Formosa. The bridge is an engineering feat, the longest
highway bridge in Asia. It has been of tremendous value in
linking North and South Formosa, enabling more complete
economic development of the fertile south, making it possible
to move military convoys quickly to points of attack. It is a

116

OF MEN AND DREAMS

toll bridge, and on the basis of use during its first year of
operation David Hung's bridge will be paid for in thirty-
seven years.

But the real significance of David Hung's bridge lies not
in the fact that it provides all-weather connection between
north Formosa and the south, nor in the fact that it will be
paid for even before schedule. The bridge is a tremendous
psychological victory for the Chinese.

For here was a project the efficient Japanese could not
complete! What the Japanese could not do, Chinese did, and
with a minimum of outside help. The completion of the Silo
Bridge gave confidence to people who have had to feel in
ferior to much of the rest of the world. It gave them faith
in themselves, made it possible to say, as I heard over and
over again, "Why we can do things, we have done things,
even the Japanese could never do." It is said, not entirely as
a boast but also in a childlike wonderment.

But man cannot live by bread alone. It is not enough to
build bridges that others failed to build, or to raise more tea,
or rice, or pineapples per hectare. Without freedom and de
mocracy, land for the landless, food for empty stomachs even,
is not enough. Chiang Kai Shek can bridge the Straits of For
mosa but if he rules with tyranny, without basic democracy,
it will not make his government great, nor will his people
fight for that government.

Or at least these are things we Americans believe* We meas
ure other countries by the degree of "democracy" achieved
by their governments, by the amount of freedom allowed the
people. There is cause for debate on this criterion for judging
those who are to benefit from our largesse. Too much de
mocracy and "freedom," taken by systems not fully prepared
to digest it, may generate considerable painful gas. Peoples
so afflicted may respond to the medications offered by Com
munism just as quickly and with just as serious results as in
the case of those who buy the cure in order to fill their stom-

117

STILL THE BICE GROWS GREEN

achs and better clothe their bodies. Too much democracy
there can be, too much freedom for unprepared peoples can
cause devastating results.

But still even the most enthusiastic supporter of the Gen
eralissimo must admit there were strange goings on during
the Nationalists' last days on the mainland. There was cor
ruption in high places, there was no representative govern
ment, there was still much government by war-lord fiat. If
Free China is to combat Communism on equal footing, it
must have fair and efficient government., must provide more
freedom and democratic government than it ever did on the
mainland.

How does Nationalist China rate today? Has its govern
ment developed efficiency? Is there any degree of representa
tive or constitutional government? Or putting it in more vital
rice-root terms, are the people living under the rule of Na
tionalist China getting a fair deal?

At the outset let us admit that there is inefficiency and evil,
there is even some corruption. But for those who are willing
to seek, to compare, to study Free China in the light of past
history and the inexorable demands of the present, there is
progress and hope, a stability and goodness of purpose in
government which China has never seen before.

I have seen China at her worst and at her best. As a child,
I lived in the China of the war lords; then I saw Chiang's
revolution, his sweep northward to power. I saw the Japa
nese strike and the first months of gallant defense. I saw
China, free and Japanese-occupied, during the darkest days
of World War II when the land had already suffered from
six years of struggle, when the very warp and woof of Chi
nese family life had begun to crack through separation of
hundreds of thousands of families.

I saw good men turn to the enemy because they could see
no other path to take, I saw fence sitters jump from side to

118

OF MEN AND DREAMS

side as the war news changed. And I also saw a hard core of
China's best who never considered disloyalty.

I was in Shanghai at various times during 1946, 1947 and
1948. These were China's saddest days; millions of people
who had expected peace found only more war, more inse
curity, more heart breaking separations ahead. Many were
those who went to the other side, some because of idealism
and conviction, more because they were too tired to run any
further and had no place to hide.

As I look back over my own lifetime in China and remem
ber the different Chinas I saw, I set up certain criteria for
measuring reasonable progress in democracy. The first is the
behavior of soldiers. As a child and as an adult thieving and
misbehaving soldiers were a common sight. The second is the
behavior of public servants. Brutality and corruption were
the rule rather than the exception. The third is in the elec
tion of officials. I never saw an election on the mainland.

To my mind the progress of Free China can be plotted
along these three points. For therein lies the oppression of
people, without recourse, without the right to speak out free
ly, to take matters to higher authorities, to fight back if they
value their heads. I do not mean to indict all Chinese officials
and generals. Rather I set these down as a general pattern of
government in China over decades and centuries.

To return to our first criterion, how are the soldiers of Na
tionalist China behaving today? During the fall of 1953 I
drove south from Taipei to Taichung. The main highway of
Formosa connects these cities, then going on south across the
Silo bridge, it extends to the island's southernmost tip. All
along the main road, even on the miles of byroads I traveled
in visiting farmers and JCRR projects, I saw soldiers. Some
times there would be three or four, sometimes a company,
occasionally major elements of a complete division on one of
the ceaseless training maneuvers. One fact struck me with

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

tremendous impact: not once in five days of traveling did I
see a Nationalist soldier attempting to hitch a ride. Not once
did I see a truck, or bus, or private car stopped by soldiers.
Next I realized something else: all the soldiers I saw were
doing something. Sometimes a small crew would be stringing
new phone lines; others were working on new barracks; those
I saw in the villages and cities were not lounging about. I
watched men stop briefly to buy some little article in a vil
lage store and they paid for their purchases. At a tiny sea
side restaurant Tommy Hsu and I stopped to enjoy fresh
shrimps. Three officers entered, scanned the menu carefully,
grumbled about high prices, ordered and paid like any other
citizens.

"Do you ever have any trouble with the soldiers?" I asked
the proprietor.

He was surprised at my question and seemed unable to
come up with a ready answer. I amplified my question, "Do
they pay for their food; are they weU behaved?"

"Why of course," he answered. "They are just like any
other people. Some complain about my food; some like it;
most of them think I charge too much. You know they do
not make much money."

My host's answer interested me. I had just read parts of a
new book, had read a number of rave reviews about the book.
Written by Vern Sneider and called A fail of Oysters, the
book took some pretty terrific swipes at Free China's gov
ernment and particularly at the military. Mr. Sneider had, I
knew, spent several weeks on Formosa before completing his
book. It was fiction, to be sure, but surely no American writer
would completely falsify, even in a novel!

And so I began everywhere to ask about the conduct of
Chinese soldiers. I watched them, officers and enlisted men.
Later on Kinmen and the other guerrilla islands I had oppor
tunity to talk to the soldiers themselves, literally hundreds
of them.

OF MEN AND DREAMS

At a village south of Taichung, near the northern end of
the Silo Bridge, I attended a farmers' association meeting.

Afterwards Tommy Hsu and I walked to the house of farm
er Lin Jen Ching ( a fair share of all the people on Formosa
are named Lin!). We enjoyed fresh watermelon and we
talked of many things.

"Tell me Mr. Lin/' I said, "about the soldiers. I saw a good
many in the village putting up new telephone lines."

Tommy Hsu thought it necessary to add his bit. "You can
tell Mr. Caldwell anything without fear," he told Mr. Lin.

Mr. Lin went into quite a harangue about soldiers. It
seems there had been a bad accident that morning. A mili
tary truck had run into a bus full of girls bound for work in
a factory. A number of the village girls had been injured.
Tommy and I had passed the place of the accident earlier in
the day, had seen the bus overturned in a rice field.

"These soldiers drive much too fast," Mr. Lin complained.
"Our highways here are narrow. We have too many acci
dents."

Then he added a significant observation. "Later today a
committee from the village is going to call on the general.
We are going to tell him that this fast driving must stop."

In my years on the mainland of China it was rare indeed
that a committee of citizens called upon a general. And cer
tainly they did not call to criticize or demand. Or if they did
so, it was at considerable personal risk.

Having disposed of the problem of fast-driving soldiers,
Mr. Lin continued.

"Actually the soldiers are our friends now/' he said. "They
are well behaved; if they need things, they buy. Why they
will not even take a watermelon from the field without pay
ing for it. But it was not always so. Three or four years ago
the soldiers were pretty bad. They stole from us; we had
trouble all the time."

Everywhere I went I found that common people noted a

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

significant change in the actions of soldiers beginning about
1951. Everywhere I heard the statement, "Now they are our
friends/' Everywhere I found that the incidence of rape, of
arguments between soldiers and civilians resulting in fight
ing, was extremely rare.

The Chinese GI is kept very busy. When not working or
maneuvering, he studies. Literacy among the rank and file is
now 94 per cent* He has no time off, has no chance to go to
towns and cities and get in trouble. He is well fed, well
clothed, and the temptation to steal has been removed. Above
all he has a self-respect he never had before. He knows that
he will be paid what little he is due regularly. He knows he
will have reasonable medical attention when ill. Certainly his
life is hard, but he knows that he is as well off as most of the
civilian population. He has learned to work with the civilian
population, to respect its rights.

On this score Nationalist China has gone a long, long way
indeed, Mr. Vern Sneider and his A Pail of Oysters to the con
trary notwithstanding.

As Tommy Hsu and I drove away from Mr. Lin's house, I
expressed considerable interest in the fact that Lin and his
fellow villagers dared to complain to the general. Tommy
told me that this is quite a common occurrence now, that it
extends also to relations between the civilian population and
the police.

Each month there is a people's police meeting, where the
local citizens have opportunity to complain to the police
about actions of members of the force. And at this point let
me note a significant fact: under Japanese rule the police
had vast powers, arresting thousands of people, trying and
punishing in police courts without benefit of counsel, with
out any chance of review by higher court or authority. In
1938 for instance, Japanese Police handled 174,026 cases,
levying fines, prison terms and brutal corporal punishment
as they saw fit.

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

The Nationalist government has gradually diminished the
control o the police, has removed literally scores of police
regulations. During the past six years cases handled directly
by the police have been as low as 15,000 and never higher
than 59,000. Among these cases, it may be added, there were
many transferred to regular courts.

It must be remembered that Formosa is not at peace. The
Nationalist government lives always under the threat of mili
tary action, must always be alert to fifth column action. There
have been arrests, executions, too. According to law any per
son endangering the safety of the nation may be sentenced
to death or imprisonment for not less than ten years. The
government has not been lenient on this score.

But there is absolutely no evidence of any reign of terror
on Formosa. Four years ago the government ruled that "in
making arrests, security officials must show their identifica
tion certificates together with the warrant issued by a respon
sible security organ." In 1951 it was further decreed that "all
suspects must be provided with counsel."

As Formosa's military strength has increased, security regu
lations have been relaxed. There is still some spot censoring
of mail, entirely confined to persons who are suspected of
leftist leanings, who are known to be in communication with
persons on the mainland. Travel is free and unrestricted all
over the island. Persons must have identity cards and when
visiting in another city, must make known to police where
they are staying, where they are from. Yet, are these unrea
sonable regulations for a nation at war? And surely now we
must understand that Nationalist China is at war with Com
munist China just one hundred miles away.

The Nationalist Government does not run a police state.
The very fact that the people to whom I talked were willing
freely and openly to answer my questions should be an in
dication that people feel free. There is more and more free
dom of the press, even vigorous criticism of government ac-

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

tions. For instance when a Communist plane flew over For
mosa in September o 1954, the press vigorously criticized the
government and the Chinese air force for not shooting it
down.

But it must be admitted that there is still far too much
unnecessary red tape, for Chinese and foreigner alike. Partly
the red tape is indicative of lingering bureaucratic ineffi
ciency; partly it is because minor officials still operate and
think in terms of 1949 and 1950 when security was so im
portant, when a Communist invasion was expected at any
moment.

Unnecessary red tape is especially noticeable in connec
tion with the aborigine country. The Nationalists have not
wanted to have the trouble with tribes people that the Japa
nese had. They have been careful to see that smart Chinese
operators did not get into the mountain reservations to ex
ploit the tribesmen. They have feared that dissident elements,
underground radio stations, sabotage teams might hide out
in the vast central mountain system. Accordingly they made
it difficult indeed for any person to enter aborigine country.
Special passes of a dozen varieties were necessary. But the
tribes people have proved themselves loyal; general condi
tions are such that it would be difficult for enemy agents to
operate in the mountains undetected. Yet the passes are
still necessary, the special check-points are still in operation.

For Americans who want to hunt, or to get into the mag
nificent mountain country on camping and hiking trips, the
regulations are a cause of friction and continual complaint.

One Sunday I went into the aborigine preserve at Ulai,
just a couple of hours drive from Taipei. This is the nearest
concentration of tribes people, rather civilized to be sure.
There is magnificent mountain scenery, places for picnics,
and the tribes girls give regular dances for the tourists. But
even at Ulai there are check-points; one must stop, haul out
his passport, have all the information taken down. It is stupid

124

OF MEN AND DREAMS

and unnecessary, a lingering bit of inefficiency that should,
for the sake of good public relations, be removed.

But do the people have any voice in their government, I
have been asked over and over. Is it not true that Nationalist
China is a dictatorship, ruling by order and fiat? It will come
as quite a surprise to know that Free China is governed un
der a Constitution drafted by a celebrated American lawyer.
Dean Pound of the Harvard Law School is responsible for
China's Constitution, It was adopted in 1948 before Chiang's
collapse. It has been implemented, step by step, on Formosa.

Representative, constitutional government in Free China
begins at the rice-roots. Each township elects a township
assembly and a township chief. All actions of the township
assembly are binding. Everyone, male and female, Taiwan
ese, mainlander and aborigine has the right to vote. Nearly
always there are multiple choices for the voters. In a check
of 76 townships, with a total of 579 assemblymen, it was
found that there were never less than two candidates and in
several cases as many as five standing for election. Who wins
out in the elections? Do the rich classes and the Kuomintang
control all offices?

A check of the same 579 assemblymen reveal these figures:
206 (36%) were non-farmers, business and professional peo
ple; 42 (7%) were landlords; 222 were land-operators; and
109 (19%) were tenants.

Party politics play little part in rice-roots government. In
fact there is almost a complete absence of party thinking.
Candidates normally offer themselves as individuals, are
elected on the basis of personal popularity and appeal. The
typical voter unfortunately still does not vote on issues but
rather on the basis of popularity. But vote he does, averag
ing about 80 per cent for every election, regardless whether
it be for village assemblyman or for the mayor of a large
city.

Constitutional government has been implemented slowly,

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

and it has a considerable distance to go. The citizens of
Hualien and Taitung on Formosa's east coast elected county
councils in the summer of 1950. Mayors and magistrates were
elected in the fall of the same year. County and city elections
have been gradually extended to all parts of the island.

A provincial assembly of fifty-five members is elected by
the county and city councils. Of course this is not democracy
as we know it where senators and electors are selected by
the people directly. But for those who wish to criticize it
might be wise to look back at the time when United States
senators were not elected by direct vote either.

Certainly democracy has a long way to go yet. There is still
but one important party, the Kuomintang. But KMT candi
dates sometimes have hard sledding. In mayoralty elections
for two of Formosa's largest cities, Taipei and Taichung,
KMT candidates were decisively defeated. The Taichung
case was especially interesting to me. The KMT candidate
was much the better qualified man. But unfortunately some
of his election workers became a little too enthusiastic. They
enlisted the help of the police. There were no strong arm
methods whatsoever. Policemen just "suggested" that the
KMT man would make a mighty good mayor. But the peo
ple were not interested in receiving suggestions! They de
cisively defeated the KMT candidate.

The growth of constitutional government has had an in
teresting effect upon the racial animosities that have been
a part of Formosan life. The aborigine tribes have never got
ten along any better with each other than with outsiders.
But during recent elections in aborigine areas strange things
have happened. An Atayal tribesman was elected to a seat
on the Nanton County People's Council by the overwhelm
ing vote of the Bunan tribe. Also a large proportion of Atayal
tribesmen supported a Bunan tribesman in an unsuccessful
bid for township chief of Jenai. Thus old tribal jealousies are

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

slowly disappearing an unexpected by-product of free elec
tions.

Certainly representative government has been established
in Free China. It has weaknesses which are still to be cor
rected. The absence of a true party system is regrettable. But
no nation can have party government until the electorate is
educated to vote on issues rather than personalities. It can
also be argued that the KMT sometimes negates the results
of elections by appointing civil servants to "assist" an elected
official. Sometimes the assistance turns into control of the
activities of the office.

Leadership still too often centers in prominent families, al
though more and more tenants and poor people are being
elected. There are more women candidates for office in each
election. In many areas the decrease of landlords in leading
positions is more apparent than real. For although fewer
landlords hold positions they still exercise indirect control
simply because they are by tradition the leaders, and tradi
tion dies hard in China.

Free China's progress on Formosa whether it be in agricul
ture or government, must always be judged in contrast with
conditions under the efficient Japanese government. Under
the Japs there were elections too, but only Japanese citizens
could vote. On the rice-roots level, in the township councils,
one half of the membership was appointed by the Japanese
government. The township chief was also appointed. The
assembly had only advisory powers while now it actually op
erates the township; its actidns are binding.

But it is among the aborigines that the difference between
Japanese and Nationalist Chinese methods is most noticeable.
The Japanese controlled the tribes people entirely through
the police. There was no civil government. The Japanese
would not allow tribes people to leave their reservations. The
Nationalists encourage them to do so. The hard kernel of

127

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

tribal isolation and rivalry lias been cracked by the oppor
tunity of self-government. The aborigines not only have po
litical rights at the rice-roots; they take part in provincial and
county governments.

I saw the difference dramatically highlighted one day. An
aborigine woman, dressed in tribal clothes, unconcernedly
boarded an airplane on the east coast for a shopping trip to
Taipei. Certainly, she had her identity card, picture and all.
But she had the right to leave the reservation, the right to
buy a ticket for Taipei, the right to spend her money there.

The treatment of the aborigines is indeed a far cry from
that accorded them by the Japanese. They are governed now
more truly in the spirit of Magistrate Wu Feng than at any
time in the memory of the mountain peoples.

It might be interesting to compare the Nationalist treat
ment of this minority group with our treatment of the Ameri
can Indian. As I visited the tribes people in the mountains
near Sun-Moon Lake, I thought particularly of my own state
of Tennessee, of the activities of Andrew Jackson, of the
"Trail of Tears" over which thousands of Cherokee Indians
were driven, taken forcefully and in violation of solemn treaty
and deported to a far away land.

But are the people happy? Are they content? Will they
support their government? Over and over again I asked peo
ple how they felt, tried to ascertain if psychological factors
complement what one sees on Formosa. For there is an ap
pearance of stability everywhere. I saw one beggar during
all my days on Formosa where I saw hundreds in Korea and
scores in Japan. There is little evidence of starvation any
where. There are many pooraverage annual individual in
come after taxes is about sixty-five dollars a year. But there
are no rich either. Everyone lives simply, because there must
be austerity in a nation that is at war and which may be at
war for years ahead.

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

It would be foolish to say that all the people on Formosa
are happy. There are many Taiwanese who still remember
the misgovernment of early liberation days. There is resent
ment sometimes even over the good things that have come
to the people. Schools are better than ever before, with great
er opportunity for an education. But I heard people complain
because their children must study an "outside" language.
Mandarin, the official language of China, is just as much an
outside language to many Formosans as was the Japanese
language they were forced to study for fifty years.

City and village people sometimes complain because they
do not get as much attention as country people. Country peo
ple too have their complaints. I sat in a small apothecary
shop in a central Formosan village and listened to the vigor
ously voiced complaints of the proprietor. He was upset about
land reform. Because of some technicality he could not buy
the plot of land he wanted. He did not like it at all. But his
greatest complaint was about the village water supply.

"The authorities have not done right/ 3 he almost shouted.
"They have been talking about new wells, new this-and-that
for a year, and yet they have done nothing." And then point
ing at a sluggish stream nearby he said, "That's where we
have to get our water and its full of all kinds of germs T

Two Chinese soldiers, an enlisted man and an officer were
resting in the shade of a banana tree nearby. They were lis
tening to our conversation. As nearly all Chinese will, they
had even entered in. They laughed at the vehemence of the
old medicine man.

But they laughed, the soldier who receives a salary of
eighty^cents a month, the captain whose salary is six dollars
a month. And when they resumed their tasks it would not
be to report an old Chinaman because of criticisms of the
government.

The miUenium has not been reached in Free China, has

129

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

not even been approached. But there is bright promise in
what has been accomplished. There is justifiable pride on the
part of men and women who have risen from defeat and re
treat, to work and build again. Nowhere in Asia does the rice
grow greener.

130

Chapter 5

GIAJXTTED that the soldiers are well behaved, the people
have rights they never before enjoyed, what of Free
China's top leadership? It too, must be good, if there
is to be any chance for the mainland to become free. The
mainland was lost in part because there were so many gen
erals who were corrupt, so many other high officials with
greedy hands. In my home province of Fukien I saw the Na
tionalist government at its worst, saw Governor Chen Yi and
his henchmen milk the province dry.

Was Chen Yi dismissed? No, as was so often the case, he
was promoted! Generalissimo Chiang Kai Shek made him
Formosa's first governor at the end of World War II. And the
exploitation of the island that took place under Chen Yi has
left scars among the native Taiwanese that will require a
generation to erase.

If Free China is to remain strong there must be no more
Chen Yi's. Too often in the past Chiang Kai Shek has trusted
old friends too much, has been so blinded by personal loyalty
that he could not see their incompetence and corruption.
But most of these old cronies are gone. Some, like Chen Yi 7
have been executed. Others stayed on under the Communists.
Some have been kicked "upstairs" and are not in positions of
influence and power.

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

One night I talked of these past failures, of future hopes,
with a group of Chinese on Kinmen. Chang Chow, a retired
major general, his deputy magistrate, Mr. Fang, a colonel in
valided out of the army with a bad wound, talked freely of
past incompetence and failures. Dr. Ma, an agricultural ex
pert, graduate of Iowa State College, was reciting the criteria
on which promotion to general officer ranks in the Chinese
army is now based. Chang Chow and Fang agreed with Ma's
statement that a general in Free China's armies must have
definite qualifications now if he is to rise to a command posi
tion. The qualifications necessary are stringent indeed, a far
cry from the old mainland days when there were almost as
many generals as privates. If a man is to attain a command
position in Chiang's armies of today, he must have these
qualifications:

i. He must be a graduate of a regular military academy-
no more courtesy generals.

2,. He must have had actual combat command experience,
either against the Japanese or the Communists.

3. He should have studied and traveled abroad, either to
the United States or at least to Japan.

4. He must have had teaching experience in a military
academy.

5. He must have graduated from Free China's Staff and
Command School on Formosa.

6. His record at the Staff and Command School must be
excellent.

Admiral Tang, deputy commander of Kinmen, who also
sat with us that night, added, that as far as the Chinese navy
was concerned, a commanding officer must have had at least
three years of sea duty (it might be noted here that it was
not too many years ago that the admiral of the Chinese navy
was a general).

If Free China is to give a good account of itself, its top
military and civil leaders must be better qualified than in the

OF MEN AND DREAMS

past. I would not dare say that all China's leaders are well
qualified today. I do know that the qualifications listed above
seem to be followed rather closely. The commanding general
in the lonely and exposed Ta-chen Islands is a graduate of
Fort Leavenworth. I have talked to men like Chen Yi Ming,
chief of all continental operations; Hu Lien on Kinmen; Li
Yeoung Seoung, my old friend from World War II days in
Fukien, now a lieutenant general. I have met and traveled
with division commanders all through the guerrilla islands.
All of the men I have met are alert, well educated, experi
enced, with a full knowledge of the enemy and the difficul
ties of defeating him.

But I have two favorite generals, and I think that in their
stories, in their viewpoints, lies the secret of Free China's top
echelon strength today.

Last year I was in New York just prior to a trip to Formosa.

"When you get to Formosa look up General Chow Mai Yii.
She is quite a person." Isabel Stewart, for years Dean of Nurs
ing at Columbia Teachers' College, world known author in
the field of nursing, was speaking.

"You said 'she,* didn't you?" I asked, somewhat amazed;
for I had never heard of a lady general in the Chinese Army.

Miss Stewart then told me something about the Lady Gen
eral of Chiang's army, a woman well known in American and
European nursing circles.

But when I arrived in Taipei and requested the Govern
ment Spokesman's Office to arrange an appointment with
General Chow, I found that she was unknown to the person
nel. As I was to find out, this is a part of the modest General's
personality. At home in Formosa, she prefers to stay out of
the limelight, devoting all her energies to the job of training
nurses, technicians and aid men for Free China's armies.

I was finally able to locate General Chow in her "'after
noon" office in the sprawling combined services hospital in
downtown Taipei.

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

Chow Mai Yii is a small, vigorous woman in her early for
ties, wearing her uniform and stars with dignity, speaking
colloquial English perfectly. During the mornings she teaches
in the national defense center where she is director of nursing
and where her students intern before becoming lieutenants
in Chiang's army.

The Lady General is so modest it is difficult to draw her
out. Slowly, as we talked in her office, as she showed me
through wards and spick-and-span operating rooms, I learned
a little of her story.

"Nursing has always been considered a very low profession
in China," she told me. "Until a few months ago our girls re
ceived a salary of three dollars a month when they graduated
as lieutenants. Their food was poor, they lived in crowded
quarters. When you add all that to our natural aversion to
the nursing profession, you can see that we might have a
hard time getting qualified girls to enter training."

And then Chow Mai Yii grinned as she told me how she
had appeared personally before China's cabinet and had ar
gued until she got a better deal for her girls.

"They told me I didn't know anything about budgets and
government finances," she snorted. "They claimed we could
not afford more food and better pay. But I won!"

Now General Chow's nurses get a better salary. Their food
has improved to the point where they are guaranteed 3,000
calories a day; living conditions during and after training
have been improved. But she admits that there is still a long
way to go before nursing is considered an honorable profes
sion, one that will attract really talented girls as a lifetime
career.

General Chow has a master's degree in public health from
MIT, another master's in nursing from Columbia, has trav
eled all through Europe and the Americas as Asia's leading
authority on nutrition. These things I had learned from Isabel
Stewart. The reticent general did not mention her accom-

134

OF MEN AND DREAMS

plishments, and I was hard pressed to learn the story of her
amazing career on the China mainland.

"I got my start under Jimmy Yen, the mass-education man/*
she told me. "I established the first rural health center in
China. But all that work blew up when the Japanese invaded
North China/'

When the war began, General Chow went into the army.
She established the nursing services of the Chinese Red Cross
and the first school of nursing in the Chinese army. These
were hectic days for Chow Mai Yii and her nurses. As the
Japanese advanced, they retreated. She did not say much
about these days except that on three occasions she lost all
her belongings and ended up in a mountain retreat in the
wilds of West China.

General Chow's work caught the attention of Lady Staf
ford Cripps who helped her get to Europe for a four months*
tour of rural health work. From Europe she went to America,
as an ambassador seeking the support of overseas Chinese in
the States. She is a brilliant speaker, in Chinese and English,
and she was so persuasive that she raised enough money to
purchase twenty-four ambulances for the Chinese army.

Chow Mai Yifs great challenge is her fight for the welfare
of her "girls/' But she has spearheaded many other medical
advances in Formosa.

"Chinese have emotional problems just like Americans/*
she told me. "And that is particularly true now with so many
of us separated from our relatives/' Then she described one
of her pet projects, a new xoo-bed psychiatric ward for Chi
nese soldiers the largest such service in Asia.

Chow Mai Yii has spent a good deal of time moving during
the past fifteen years. Or as she puts it herself, she has spent
about half her time "running/' She has narrowly escaped Jap
anese capture a half dozen times, has refugeed all over main
land China, moved out of Shanghai just in time to escape
Communist capture in 1949.

135

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

"But there Is still one more big move I expect to make be
fore I die," she said, "I am going home again, to the main
land."

"Tell me General Chow," I asked, "do you honestly think
that will ever be possible?" For the first time in our two hours
together the little general showed emotion.

"It has to be, it has to be," she said as she pounded her
desk.

General Chow Mai Yii's cash salary is $10 U.S. a month.
She did not tell me that the United Nations had just offered
her, and that she had declined a $i2,ooo-a-year position in
the safety and luxury of New York.

My other favorite general is far better known. I had met
him very briefly in China during the war, when he operated
the "model" city of Kanhsien in southeast China. His name
Is Chiang Ching Kuo, and he is the eldest son of Generalis
simo Chiang Kai Shek.

But my interest in General Chiang Ching Kuo was also en
livened by something I heard in America. I was lecturing In
Louisville after a trip to the Far East in 1953. It was not long
after Adlai Stevenson's tour of the world. A Louisville news
paperman had accompanied Mr. Stevenson and had brought
back dark reports of the activities of the Generalissimo's el
dest son.

"Why he heads the secret police/' I was told. "He is a men
ace. Certainly, some good things have been done on Formosa.
But Chiang's son is building a machine to take over, to be
come a dictator."

Later Look magazine featured a story about Chiang Ching
Kuo. A disgruntled, ousted Chinese politician reported that
it was widely suspected that young Chiang would, if he had
opportunity, sell out to Mao, would turn Formosa into a prov
ince of Communist China.

And so it was that I made immediate effort to gain an ap
pointment with the general, also to question Chinese in every
walk of life about him and his activities.

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

Chiang Ching Kuo is not difficult to see. The Government
Spokesman's Office arranged an appointment in short order.
At four o'clock one afternoon I took a taxi to the modest house
which serves as his office. I had forgotten the exact street ad
dress but surely that would not matter. Would not every taxi
driver know exactly where the Head of the dreaded Secret
Police held court? Unfortunately the driver did not know the
address, and it was necessary for me to return to the Spokes
man's Office to get it, to be late to my engagement with one
of Free China's most controversial figures.

Chiang Ching Kuo is a small man, only slightly disposed
towards middle-aged fleshiness. He is soft spoken, smiles fre
quently. We sparred a bit, I apologizing that my Foochow
dialect was not understandable, he apologizing for his own
atrocious Chekiang patois. Then we got down to business,
speaking through an air force captain who acted as inter
preter.

Chiang Ching Kuo is chief of the Political Department of
the Chinese army. In that sense he is chief of the Secret
Police. The United States Army has a similar "political de
partment" although it is not called that. In our army we
have a CID with many secret agents whose duty it is to fer
ret out crime within the army. We also have a CIC, a hush
hush outfit, responsible for counterespionage.

"There are things about my work I do not like," the young
general said frankly. "I am responsible for seeing that se
curity measures are maintained here. We have had to arrest
people, we have had to execute some people too. It is not a
pleasant job, but it is a necessary job."

The necessity of the job can be understood if we realize
that one of Chiang Ching Kuo's projects was the arrest of
General Wu Shih, vice-chief of the general staff. Wu Shih, it
turned out, was a top Communist agent, with a radio com
munications set in his home, in constant touch with the Red
government on the mainland. Chiang's men secretly arrested
the traitor general, and for nearly two months operated the

137

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

radio station themselves. As a result, it was possible to pick
up a total of just under 1000 Communist agents on Formosa.
It was a tremendously important haul, occurring at a time
when the Government was still weak with defeat and retreat,

Perhaps quite probably some of those arrested were mis
treated. Many were executed; many more were sent to re
education camps; a few are now respected, if watched, mem
bers of Free Chinese society again.

But the general is much more interested in talking of his
other jobs. (The Louisville newspaper man did not take the
trouble to find out about the rest of his responsibilities.) He
detailed his assignments, one by one. The Political Depart
ment of the Chinese army has five major functions.

1. It is responsible for the education and morale training
of the Chinese soldiers. In this respect it is the exact
equivalent of the T. I. & E. units of the American army.

2. It is responsible for all psychological warfare activities
against the enemy.

3. Within the department it is the Inspector General Corps
of the army*

4. The department is the Secret Police of the government.
However, General Chiang told me he preferred to call
it the GIG of the army, operating much as does our
American army CIG.

5. The department is in charge of civil affairs, or military
government, where such is needed. It is also responsible
for developing good relations between the army and the
civilian populations.

As a part of these many duties, Chiang Ching Kuo was in
charge of planning for the reception, the re-education, the
future lives of the 16,000 POW's from Korea. His eyes fairly
sparkled as he told me of his plans. The first "pilot" group
had already arrived, had been taken on a tour of the island,
had even gone to Bonmen to broadcast to the Communists^,
with the startling results I have already described. Did I want

138

OF MEN AND DREAMS

to meet with any of the POW's, the general asked? I could
have complete freedom, could talk privately if I wished, to
any and all the men who had renounced Communism for
Free China.

We talked of many things, the general and L One of his
biggest jobs lies in the never-ending psychological warfare
against the Communists. His men plan the leaflets that are
dropped by plane, train the agents who move in and out,
plan and write the radio programs that are directed to the
mainland. He utilizes captives for broadcasts, he often re
leases captured Communists back on the mainland (much
to the chagrin of the prisoners who have no desire whatso
ever to go back to their Peoples' Paradise).

Sensing my surprise at this part of the program, Chiang
Ching Kuo said, apologetically, "Yes, I know some of the men
we release have a difficult time. They are tortured and some
times executed. But this is war. The release of such prisoners
makes the Communist army and the people feel uneasy."

Then he continued: "We have developed a lot of tricks.
We are trying propaganda balloons now with our message
written all over the balloon. We drop rice, too, in areas where
there is starvation. And always we have a message that goes
with the rice.

"Our rice drops have worried the enemy," he went on with
a grin. "Now they have tried to discourage the people from
taking the rice by proclaiming that it has been discovered
that every bag of rice also contains guns. Since it is a crime
punishable by death to possess a gun, they hope to frighten
the ignorant people."

Chiang's rice drops are potent propaganda, for much of
Communist China has been suffering from starvation the past
two years. Yet the fumbling U. S. Department of State has
rapped Free China's knuckles for dropping food to starving
people. During 1954'$ disastrous floods, Generalissimo Chiang
Kai Shek ordered his son to drop tons of rice on villages and

139

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

cities hardest hit, announcing with the order that in time of
suffering Christians should help others, regardless of ideologi
cal differences. Not only was Chiang Kai Shek being a good
Christian, his move was smart politically and psychologically.
But the Department of State criticized Free China for giving
aid to the enemy! During the same week our government also
announced that certain trade restrictions were being lifted.
Henceforth certain non-strategic goods could be sold to Red
China. The "non-strategic" goods included tractors, diesel
fuel, generators., locomotives and welding equipment. While
rapping Chiang's knuckles for a powerful Christian action,
Uncle Sam blindly announces that tractors and locomotives
can now be sold to the enemy, for what earthly military use
can be made of these things anyway?

The Communists seem worried also over Chiang Ching
Kuo's leaflet drops. He told me something I had also heard
from people on the mainland, that the Communists tell the
peasants the leaflets are coated with a poison. If anyone even
touches a leaflet the poison begins to work and eventually
the fingers drop off, one by one!

But of the things Chiang does, he is proudest of his pro
gram of education and recreation for the Chinese GI. He told
me with pride that literacy in the Chinese army is now 94
per cent. It was perhaps ten per cent five years ago.

"Our men must be educated, must be able to read and
write," he exclaimed. "We have made it clear that in the new
army of Free China, captains will become sergeants unless
they are educated."

I have seen Chiang Ching Kuo's education and recreational
program at work among the regulars and guerrillas on the
islands. Every village has its simple recreation and reading
room, its basketball court. Mobile units tour the major is
lands, showing motion pictures to soldiers and civilians.

Time after time I have seen whole companies, sitting in
rows, taking literacy, history or economics examinations. To

140

OF MEN AND DREAMS

be sure the training is "political" in the sense that it is thor
oughly anti-Communist and pro-Free China. Would the
newspaper editor in Louisville believe that freedom of in
formation should be applied to the extent that Chinese sol
diers on Kinmen island, bombarded with ten thousand artil
lery shells on September last, should study the benefits of
Communism?

Chiang Ching Kuo is also criticized, declared a menace,
not only because he directs Free China's political police, but
because he has studied in Moscow, speaks Russian. Per se,
he must be dangerous, is apt to go over to the enemy. This
of course is a prime example of guilt by association. The
young Chiang's father studied in Japan and on the basis of
such reasoning he should have collaborated with the Japa
nese!

Lieutenant General Chiang Ching Kuo's critics not only
fail to consider the many responsibilities of his office, they
fail to give him credit for considerable personal bravery. He
is not content to sit at a desk in Taipei and order others to
risk their lives. He has himself gone ashore on mainland raids,
is often on hand to guide and direct the defense of a guerrilla
island when the Communists show signs of attack.

Just as I was to leave Chiang Ching Kuo, I said something
I had been wanting to say for some time.

"General, there are people in America who say you aspire
to be a dictator, that you are a menace."

Quick as a flash came the answer. "I think that people like
the Adlai Stevenson party who came here, stayed 48 hours,
and then told the world about our mistakes, are a far greater
menace!"

Perhaps Chiang Ching Kuo does have a pretty good secret
service at that!

141

Chapter 6

W 1 - - " HEN I was a small boy, living in the province of
Fukien on the China Coast I learned there were two
kinds of Chinese, those who had all their roots deep
in the soil of China and those who had relatives "overseas"

The latter had better homes, for the sons and cousins and
uncles who lived in the Nan Yangthe "southern seas area"
always sent money back to Fukien. Nearly always they them
selves came home at last, to be buried in ancestral soil.

Ninety per cent of the Chinese who have emigrated to
other lands, whether they live in New York's Chinatown, in
Burma or in Bangkok, come from China's Fukien and Kwang-
tung provinces. In Borneo there are whole cities of Foochow-
speaking Chinese; in the Philippines the bulk of the 150,000
Chinese are from Amoy, also in Fukien province. Nine-tenths
of all the Chinese in America hail from one county in Kwang-
tung province.

In part, economic conditions have caused Chinese from the
south China Coast to seek their fortunes elsewhere; partly it
has been because the south Chinese are more adventurous,
more willing to explore, more apt either to fight against op
pression, or simply to move out.

When Sir Thomas Raffles claimed Singapore for the British
Crown in 1819 he found it a jungle-covered, deserted island.

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

He let it be known that settlers would be welcomed work
ers, merchants, just plain coolies and within four months
five thousand Chinese had arrived from Fukien.

And so it has been for centuries. In the second century be
fore Christ, Chinese ships from the China Coast touched at
all the ports of Southeast Asia. Normally they went south in
the summer because the prevailing winds were to the south.
They traded and fished., then northed homeward as the wind
shifted to the north. But as the years passed, more and more
of the Chinese stayed over between winds, to settle and to
build the prosperous society that has existed now for several
centuries.

The development of Southeast Asia would never have oc
curred, or would be centuries behind, had it not been for the
ubiquitous Chinese. They have controlled all fisheries, either
through operation of the fishing fleets or through middlemen.
They monopolized the production of tin in Malaya for gen
erations. In Thailand Chinese artisans even built the mag
nificent wats and monasteries of glittering Bangkok. It will
be remembered too, that Formosa was settled by coastal Chi
nese, men and women from Amoy in Fukien, or Hakkas from
northern Kwangtung.

And it should also be remembered that it has been the Chi
nese Communist guerrillas who have cost Britain millions of
dollars and thousands of lives in the eight years of jungle war
fare in Malaya.

Thus China and the Chinese have woven themselves into
the fabric of life in all of Southeast Asia: 260,000 in the Portu
guese colony of Macao; 150,000 in the Philippines; 1,000,000
in Vietnam; 217,000 in Cambodia; 360,000 in Burma; 807,000
in the city of Singapore and 2,000,000 more in Malaya; 220,-
ooo in north Borneo, 1,600,000 in the other islands of the
Indies.

They number over 10,000,000, these sons and daughters of
China who live elsewhere in Asia. They come from Fukien

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

across the straits from Formosa, from Kwangtung further
south. There is a never-ending struggle for their allegiance,
and whoever wins that allegiance may well win Southeast
Asia.

In a valley on Kbunen Island, surrounded by great black
rock mountains, there is a mammoth statue of Chiang Kai
Shek. Symbolically, the statue faces westward toward the en
slaved mainland. But the importance of this pile of concrete
and bronze lies in this fact: it was paid for by overseas Chi
nese, was even built by artisans who came from a half dozen
Southeast Asia countries.

For even little Kinmen is a part of life in Thailand and the
Philippines and north Borneo: 100,000 of its sons and daugh
ters live abroad. What happens to Kinmen will have reper
cussions in every country in Asia. This we must understand
if we are to understand the struggle for that vast continent.

There are many ways in which we can measure the ebb
and flow of the battle for Asia's overseas Chinese. The statue
on Kinmen is an indication of Free China victory; the num
ber of young Chinese students who go from any country to
Communist China each year is a measure of Communist suc
cess. The flags that appear, Nationalist and Chinese Com
munist, on each Chinese New Year's Day are a further indi
cation of how the battle goes. The story of Allen Yeh, who
forsook the security of Singapore to run a wine factory on
Kinmen is a part of the struggle.

The few Americans who have observed and written about
Asia's overseas Chinese find it very easy to dismiss the battle.
"When the Communists are getting ahead, the Chinese swing
to them; if the Nationalists had a victory it would be the
other way."

But how else can men act when they have relatives in the
homeland, dependent upon them? Who are we to judge the
decisions of men, when letters come, demanding money in
return for the life of an aged mother? Who can blame a father

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

who sends his son to college in Red China when Nationalist
China has nothing to offer? And for those who criticize I
suggest another careful reading of American Civil War his
tory. For then there were thousands of Americans whose al
legiance depended upon who won the last battle, who could
offer the best business deal.

The truth is that until Geneva, Free China was winning
the battle, even though it has little to offer as compared to
the largesse of the enemy, even though the enemy is recog
nized as ruler by a good share of Southeast Asia.

Statistics tell part of the story.

In 1950, the year after Chiang's defeat, only 215 Chinese
returned to Free China from overseas homes. In 1951 the
figure had increased, but only to 300. But by 1952 nearly 1500
came <c home" to Formosa. And in late 1952 there was con
vincing proof that Free China had a hold upon the allegiance
of Chinese everywhere, when over 300 delegates came to Tai
pei to attend a conference of overseas Chinese. These men
and women were influential members of their adopted coun
tries. There were newspaper editors and publishers, teachers
and doctors, prominent businessmen and representatives of
organized labor.

The overseas delegates visited army, navy and air force
installation; they watched troops at maneuvers; they saw
Free China's rural reform program in action. Groups of dele
gates visited Kinmen Island and the Ta-chen guerrilla islands
further north.

But of course one meeting, attended by a few hundred
Chinese does not mean too much. Again statistics will re
veal a little of the change that has taken place in Chinese
overseas thinking since the collapse in 1949. In that year,
overseas remittances, always an important item in China's
foreign exchange picture, dropped to a low of six hundred
thousand U.S. dollars and less than five million Malayan
dollars.

M5

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

By 1952 over a million and a half U.S. dollars had flowed
back into Free China. And the remittances from Malayan
Chinese increased from less than five million Straits dollars
to over thirty-five million. In 1950 slightly over two thousand
pounds sterling came into Free China; two years later the
amount had increased to 121,000 pounds.

This increase in remittances to Free China has been par
alleled by increasing pressure by the Communists attempting
to squeeze money out of overseas Chinese. It has occurred all
over Asia, even in the U.S. Every effort has been made to
force Chinese to send money back to Red China. There have
been threats against relatives, actual arrests and executions
and yet there have been thousands of Chinese who have re
fused to bend under the pressure.

But it has been on Chinese New Year's Day when the most
dramatic evidence of sympathies can be seen. In 1949 Chiang
was in full retreat. By New Year's Day, 1950, all China had
been lost. In those years Nationalist flags were few and far
between, whether it be in Bangkok or north Borneo. But be
ginning in 1951 the change became apparent. On New Year's
Day of 1954, Nationalist flags outnumbered Communist flags
in every Asiatic nation which does not recognize Red China,
and even in some of those who have recognized the Com
munist regime.

Even this simple act of flying a flag requires courage. There
are Communist agents and spies throughout all of Asia. The
relatives of overseas Chinese are carefully catalogued. The
merchant who lives in Sarawak, who has a mother back in
Foochow, knows that Big Brother will watch, will report on
the flag he flies, the newspaper he reads, the amount of money
lie may send to Formosa. The daily lives of rich and poor
alike are haunted by the knowledge of the danger each act
may create for the family in China.

Yet today the tide is ebbing. In the aftermath of Geneva,
men who have held on and hoped for a democratic China

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OF MEN" AND DREAMS

for five years are beginning to give up hope, are realizing
that their futures may inevitably be tied with that of a Red
Motherland.

Free China is not even recognized in populous Indonesia.
So many thousands of Chinese young people are going from
that land to Communist China to study that in a matter of
years Indonesia will have hundreds of thousands of Commu
nist Chinese amongst its population. The blindly neutral gov
ernment of Indonesia allows Red propagandists full reign.
Communist book stores, magazines, and newspapers flourish.
Ties with Free China are made difficult, are frowned upon.
The lives of Chinese who are still loyal are made difficult.

For the Indonesian government has ruled that the Chinese
have but two choices if they remain in Indonesia. They may
elect to become citizens of the United States of Indonesia. Or
they must become citizens of Red China. For the Chinese
who have lived in Java or Sumatra for generations it is not
difficult to choose the former. But for the intensely anti-Com
munist refugees, those who have gone to Indonesia in recent
years, the choice is tragic. If they are to remain Chinese, there
is no place to go but to the Reds.

I had hoped to visit old Foochow friends in Jakarta. The
friends wrote welcoming me, but they made it clear that my
visit might cause trouble. A special pass would even be neces
sary to leave the city, to meet me at the port.

The Communists have been particularly active in luring
young Chinese to China for college and technical education,
in infiltrating the hundreds of overseas Chinese schools. In
Hong Kong more than a dozen private schools fly the Com
munist flag, and the British authorities have not felt it ex
pedient to take any action. (Would they allow such a situa
tion in London?) Of the nearly one thousand primary and
high schools in Hong Kong, six hundred are private schools,
providing education for two thirds of the population. There
are hundreds of private Chinese schools in Malaya. The Com-

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STILL THE BICE GBOWS GREEN

munists have been successful in infiltrating a vast majority
of these schools and thus have a potent weapon in their bat
tle for the overseas Chinese.

Dr. Walter Eells in his book Communism in Education in
Asia, Africa and the Far Pacific ( American Council on Edu
cation, 1954) cites conditions among the Chinese schools,
tells of the Communist literature filled with virulent attacks
against Free China and the British. He writes that one Chi
nese inspector of schools in Malaya, a loyal Chinese, finds it
necessary to go about armed on his visits. He quotes from
literature found in various schools. One document, widely
distributed in the Chinese schools, was an attack upon the
British and was signed "Fourth Mobile Platoon of the Eighth
Regiment of the National Liberation Army." As Dr. Eells
points out, this would indicate a definite organization among
the students, one tying them in with the forces which the
British have been trying to wipe out for years.

The tragedy of the situation is that Free China has too few
weapons it can use. Nationalist literature is banned in many
places. While the Communists can offer 10,000 college schol
arships, the total yearly quota for overseas students at Tai-
pefs National Taiwan University has been one hundred! And
it has been difficult to fill this quota since a number of our
"allies" in Southeast Asia make it difficult for a Chinese stu
dent to get out of the country, or impossible for the student
to receive funds once he has left.

The Chinese Communists have been alert to the tremen
dous possibilities of capturing the overseas youth. They have
also been alert to capitalize upon the frequent raw deals the
overseas Chinese gets in whatever part of Nan Yang he may
dwell. The Chinese have been accused of many things in
their adopted homelands: of entering lands illegally, of run
ning opium shops, of being loan sharks, of sending all the
money they make home to China.

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

In the Philippines, until President Magsaysay took over,
the Chinese residents were regularly blackmailed by the Phil
ippine government authorities. Hundreds of Chinese business
men were threatened with deportation unless they paid the
blackmail. Millions of dollars were actually collected in trib
ute until Magsaysay put an end to the racket.

Elsewhere the Nan Jang Chinese have fared no better. In
Thailand, the Chinese have been kept under unrelenting pres
sure. One Siamese king characterized them as "The Jews of
the Orient." Naturally the overseas Chinese have become bit
ter over their treatment, and the Communists have capital
ized on the bitterness.

It must be quite a temptation for a Chinese businessman
in Bangkok, pushed around by Thai authorities, squeezed and
threatened, to think rather longingly of the power of Red
China, of the possibility that Red China may take over the
very land which has treated him poorly. The song of Red
China is an inviting song: "Join us, and you will no longer
be discriminated against!"

One of the great tragedies of American policy in Asia is
that the importance of the overseas Chinese has never been
understood. We have done little to combat Communist in
filtration of Southeast Asia's schools. We have not exerted
our influence on the Governments of Southeast Asia so that
the overseas Chinese might have a better deal.

Fortunately there are leaders like Magsaysay who realize
the importance of the Chinese population. Even in Thailand,
long among the worst oppressors of the Chinese, there has
been a turn for the better. And the overseas leaders are now,
more than ever, alert to the fact that the Chinese must be
exemplary citizens of their adopted lands as well as good
Chinese.

James Michener summed up the importance of the over
seas Chinese in a Life story in 1951. He stated: "For the

149

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

startling fact is that the Nan "Yang Chinese, if they so desired
or were so instructed, could cripple the most strategic cities
of Southeast Asia. . . ."

In spite of all this, our Department of State has taken little
interest in the problems of Asia's expatriate Chinese. Individ
ually, lower echelon foreign service men have expressed deep
concern to me.

Of the scores of high ranking official Americans who have
journeyed to Formosa, only Vice President Nixon expressed
awareness of the problem. He took time to go to Taichung,
where the cornerstone of a new Christian University was be
ing laid. He did so specifically because that university will
provide opportunities for scores of young Chinese from Nan
"Yang to get a college education in Free China.

The United Board of Christian Colleges has also begun to
help by providing scholarships for refugee and expatriate
Chinese students in colleges in Hong Kong and in Singapore.
In the latter city, a new university is being founded, an in
stitution which may in time provide educational opportuni
ties for hundreds of overseas youth. Dr. Lin Yutang, most
famous of contemporary Chinese authors, has gone to Singa
pore to become the university's first chancellor. Dr. Lin's ac
tion is the type of forthright counter measure that is so des
perately needed in this unheralded battle over 10,000,000
people.

But will it be in time? So much may depend upon occur
rences we hardly notice. Kinmen Island, off the harbor of
Amoy, may by its successful defense or its capture by the
Communists, be one of those little things that will tip the
scales. For remember that I have pointed out that Kinmen's
one export has been its people 100,000 strong today are
those who live in the South Seas. There were not many who
had the conviction or the courage of Allen Yeh, who dared
actually to go back and help the motherland.

However most of Kinmen's sons abroad would rather live

150

OF MEN AND DREAMS

under democracy than under the star of Communism. The
statue of Chiang Kai Shek on Kinmenwas it built merely as
insurance in case the Nationalists would somehow win? Part
ly so, perhaps. But even more it was a gesture of hope. And
if the United States of America, pledged to defend Formosa,
refuses to provide the little extra help Kinmen's defenders
need, how can we blame the overseas Chinese for losing that
hope, for making the quickest and best deal possible with
the other side?

Thus little things and places sometime loom large in Asia.
Upon the fate of a little island off the China coast, an island
with an "unpronounceable" name and considered too unim
portant to defend, Asia's future may hinge!

Chapter 7

As CHILDREN we Americans are impressed always with the
/% basic democracy, the industry, the sobriety, the reli-
jLJL gious zeal of our pioneer forebears. Our grade school
history books emphasize these sterling qualities. We are told
how, when a group of pioneers settled a region they immedi
ately organized a school, a church, and how soon thereafter,
the urge for democratic government being so deeply instilled >
some kind of constitution was written and a representative
government, even if it be only a town meeting, was estab
lished.

The little bands of American pioneers who, in increasing
numbers since World War II, go forth to bring the benefits of
American civilization to the backward nations of the world
are in some ways no different from our forebears who crossed
the Appalachians to settle in Indian territory. The modern
American pioneers have no Indians to fight, but they do move
into alien surroundings, oftimes into areas of great danger.

They too organize their schools, or, if it be impossible,
mothers immediately write off to the Calvert School in Balti
more, world famous for educating American children abroad,
and begin to educate their children in the American way
through remote control.

But instead of first organizing a church and a school and

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

a democratic manner of self-government, die modern Ameri
can pioneer overseas establishes a source of supply for hard
liquor. Oftimes it is called a "locker fund/' and it is truly a
democratic institution, a pooling of resources and know-how
so that the benefits of tax-free whisky can be equally shared
by one and all. For what is more pitiful than a thirsty Ameri
can a long way from his sources of supply?

In past writings I have been critical of this propensity of
Americans to spend so much time on cocktails. But in their
defense I might add this time that I suspect our history books,
in deference to young and impressionable minds, did not tell
us another thing about our forebears: along with the church
and the school and the Articles of Confederation there prob
ably was a tavern established. Or if that were not the case I
suspect that someone of the pioneers set himself up in the
woods producing something alcoholic, to be sold surrepti
tiously from under the canvas of a covered wagon*

It is not my purpose to berate my fellow Americans for
the American way of life they take overseas. I do not like
cocktail parties myself and would be more than happy never
to see another bottle of whisky. Furthermore I suspect that
many an American who gives his tithe to support the locker
fund in a far away capital would not be caught in the local
package store at home. I have been impressed and surprised
these past years to find that the American diplomat .who
threw some of the biggest parties in those lush prewar days
in Korea is a deacon in his hometown church; that the young
couple who were right in the middle of the gayest society in
Seoul say grace over their meals. I do not know what this
means. Perhaps those of us who saw the rape of Korea had
the fear of the Lord thrown into us. Perhaps we are, down
deep, so insecure in our overseas relations, so basically pro
vincial, that we have to compensate with liquor in Seoul or
Bangkok or Timbuktu.

What I do know is that there has been a great deal of f ool-

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

ishness written about Americans official Americans over
seas. Theodore White, famed author of Fire in the Ashes and
coauthor of Thunder Out of China mourns for the poor Amer
ican diplomat. According to Mr. White, the foreign service
officer is poorly paid, unappreciated by his country and so
driven by the fear of congressional investigations that he is
afraid to report the truth. Of course Mr. White is talking
through his hat, or is exhibiting the same wondrous judgment
he showed ten years ago when he extolled the merits of Chi
nese Communism.

What Mr. White and many others do not understand is
that today's diplomats are numbered by the thousand, that
there are Americans in each country who are more important
than the American ambassador.

American policy is a combination of military, diplomatic
and economic factors. An aggressive agricultural advisor can
have more effect upon a nation's willingness and ability to
resist than a weak ambassador; the American who advises on
banking and currency stabilization can sabotage millions of
dollars worth of military aid. In the truest sense all these
Americans are members of the foreign service, with foreign
service titles. Many have been "in" since World War II and
know no other career.

These Americans are not, as Mr. White would have his
readers believe, poorly paid. I have met hundreds of them
and I have never known one whose soul has been scarred by
Senator McCarthy. There are good ones, bad ones, mediocre
ones. There are too many to be sure.

There are many who drink too much, a few who drink
nothing at all. There are bright ones and stupid ones. Taken
as a whole, they represent a cross section of any American
city or town.

Some have been used by the Communists, with disastrous
effects. It is one of the tragedies of our times that Commu
nism has been able to make use of the very size of our f or-

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

eign service, and when I use that term I do so in its truest
sense, including the thousands of Americans of all ranks and
occupations who make up the American team overseas.

In the old days when there was an ambassador or a min
ister and a few secretaries and consuls it was well nigh im
possible to infiltrate an American diplomatic establishment,
Now with hundreds where there were a few tens, it is always
possible to find a handful of weak men and women, or to
plant that one man who may be all that is needed to pervert
American policy in a foreign land.

I mention these things as preamble to this fact: I have
never heard a Chinese official or non-official blame the fall
of China on America alone. Perhaps this in part is because
Chinese are courteous people; perhaps it is part of the soul-
searching that has gone on on Formosa, where men speak
frankly now of past mistakes on the mainland. Perhaps it is
just good public relations not to criticize the country whose
fleet is protecting your shores.

During the past decade it has become fashionable to blame
Americans for the loss of China and equally fashionable to
defend those same Americans. I was in China much of the
time of disintegration. I know there were fellow travelers
and probably party members on our embassy staff. I saw Gen
eral Marshall in action and was not impressed. But I would
never dream of calling him a traitor. Perhaps George Mar
shall was an outstanding military leader. Of that, I have no
knowledge. But he was a second-rate diplomat whose great
est failure was that a huge ego blinded him to his second-
rateness. He was a pushover for the few who infiltrated
because his judgment of people was poor and easily swayed
by flattery.

I know also that every effort was made to use men like
myself, who were born in China, who could speak Chinese
and who per se, might be considered China experts. Every
effort was made to use me and I was even propositioned to

155

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

join the other side. Some of us fell by the wayside and have
been disgraced. Others somehow had a combination of luck
and good sense and so were not entrapped. That is just what
it was: a combination of luck and good sense. I knew noth
ing about Communism when I was drawn into the maelstrom
of China politics. I thank God for the little good sense and
the large share of good luckwhatever proportion it was
that made it possible for me to turn down propositions, to
understand, even if dimly ten years ago, that Chinese Com
munism was not what China needed and that no kind of
Communism was desirable in America.

Through arrogance and stupidity, a handful of top Ameri
cans contributed to the fall of China. Perhaps another score
of lesser Americans were traitors and through their efforts
used the stupidity of their peers to create a situation in Asia
that has already cost many American lives and will, before it
is all over, take many more lives.

The point of all this is that we should begin to take our
attention from the past and focus more on the present and
the future. The mainland of China is, as of now, lost. Ameri
cans were involved, yes, but Americans did not do it all. More
important, it is time to quit raking over the smelly dung fires
of the Marshall period and see if we are doing any better
today.

Even though Free China is a small island with a popula
tion less than that of New York State, there are many Ameri
cans there. There is an Embassy, and by and large it is staffed
with excellent people. There is a U. S. Information Service.,
There is Mr, Stassen's Foreign Operations Administration and
the American members of the Joint Commission on Rural Re
construction., administratively connected with it. There is a
Military Assistance Advisory group of five hundred or more
American officers and men, many with their families. There
are members of Central Intelligence Agency and a half dozen
special advisors of one kind or other.

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

It is inevitable that among these hundreds of men and
women there are good and bad Americans, just as there are
in any American city or town. We do not get the best out of
them because we still have not discovered the value and ne
cessity of giving real training to those who represent us over
seas. We do not get rid of the bad ones quickly enough
because of the red tape which so securely binds most Ameri
cans into their jobs. There are still too many who drink too
much, too many who not only have too many mistresses but
also flaunt their conquests.

But it is only fair to say that it is better now than it was
two or three years ago. What America does is done more
efficiently. There have been more deserved firings than oc
curred in years previous. It is my opinion that we still have
too many Americans; we still spend too much money; we live
too well. But there is progress and hope in the way that Amer
icans in Formosa are working, the manner in which they share
the uncertain destiny of the exiled Chinese*

When I am in Formosa my home is with Gene and Roberta
Auburn. Gene and I used to hunt together in Korea. We sat
out many a freezing hour in duck blind, walked together over
hundreds of miles of Korean hills in search of pheasant and
deer. The Caldwells and the Auburns were in Seoul on that
fateful day in June, 1950 when the Communists struck. We
all got safely out via various routes and carriers.

Gene and Roberta do not agree with me on many things.
But ours are healthy disagreements, not hidden resentfully
within, but argued over with spirit. I think there are far too
many parties in Taipei, too much drinking. I suspect that
Gene may agree with me. The Auburns feel that I have been
too critical of American conduct abroad. And perhaps I have.
For there is much good being done by many people, and per
haps it would be better to write of the good.

Gene is requirements chief of the Foreign Operations Mis-

157

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

sion on Formosa. That means that with his American col
leagues and with Chinese officials, he must decide what the
actual aid requirements of Free China are. That is no easy
task.

The two million exiled Chinese, the men and women who
chose freedom to slavery under the Communists, think only
in terms of going home. It is not "if we go hack to the main
land." It is always "when we go back." Surely there can be
no one except Mr. Attlee and his friends in England who
would not agree that this is good and noble and patriotic.

But that same noble desire can cause conflict between
American and Chinese. For instance, the Chinese needed a
new fertilizer plant. What more natural than that they should
think in terms of a plant that could be, would be, someday
moved back to the mainland? The American experts who plan
and advise on such things wanted a fertilizer plant specifically
for the people of Formosa, a plant to meet the needs of that
island alone. Of course both sides are right. American official
policy is to build up the island of Formosa. American eco
nomic aid is given for that purpose. And so Gene Auburn
and his colleagues are quite right when they argue about the
type of plant that is to be built.

The Chinese officials are equally right. Theirs is the recog
nized government of China. Their homeland, one hundred
miles away, was wrested from them by conspiracy, murder
and the help of a foreign power. If we refuse to allow them
to hope for the day of return, we have no business giving
them anything. Better that we should close up shop com
pletely and quietly retire to some other defense line.

As long as American policy is ambiguous and unrealistic,
there will be friction on Formosa, and with that friction there
will be frustration. It is to the credit of the Americans and
Chinese alike that there has been as little friction and frustra
tion as there has been.

The way of life in China and the way of life in America

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

are still so different that further friction is inevitable. Our
military advisors want to give China a jet air force. That is
well and good. The island cannot be defended against Migs
with ancient World War II propeller planes. If there are to
be jet planes there must be bigger and longer runways, even
new airfields. To the American expert that of course means
that another step must be taken before the planes are de
livered. Bulldozers and other behemoth prime movers are
obviously necessary to build jet airfields.

But the Chinese argue that point. "You go ahead and get
those planes in the supply line," they say. "We'll build the
fields. Don't worry about bulldozers. 3 *

And so they argue, the American who knows he is right,
that there is a certain logical order in the manner of building
a defensive pattern for a nation. And the Chinese knows that
he is right, that bulldozers are not needed for the building of
an airfield in China.

In this case the Chinese turned out to be more right than
the Americans. Five thousand Chinese coolies can do won
ders, whether it be building roads or airfields. After all, the
Chinese were able to build great airfields from whence the
B-2g*s flew on their first bombing missions against Japan.
And they built those fields without benefit of prime movers.

The Chinese are doubly right because Americans though
magnificently efficient as individuals are surprisingly ineffi
cient as a government. We read from time to time that such
and such a nation has been granted such and such millions
of dollars in military aid. There was a time when I thought
these announcements meant just what they said, that planes,
tanks, guns immediately started flowing forth. But of course
it doesn't work out that way. It takes months before "hard
ware" is delivered. And so it was on Formosa. The coolies
had the airfields ready long before American red tape had
been unwound sufficiently to deliver the goods.

And so it goes on almost every project. Difference of view-

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

point and objective, even difference of tradition can generate
friction. Gene Auburn told me of one of Ms problems a few
months ago. There were a number of coal mines on Formosa,
which viewed from the American standpoint were unpro
ductive. The mines produced very little coal and that of poor
quality. Within the total economic plan for Formosa those
mines should be shut down and the money spent on their
operation should be diverted to something else in the plan.
(We Americans always develop a Plan for each country in
which we operate. It is a very important document, generally
highly classified, not entirely understood by the Americans
and viewed with a combination of awe and resentment by
the foreigner. )

In the case of the coal mines, the Americans were of course
right. When you have a certain number of dollars available
to develop a balanced economy for a country you can't waste
those dollars on unproductive activities.

But the Chinese argued that when the mines closed down
there would be several thousand miners out of work. It would
be some time before the ex-miners could be absorbed into
the already tight labor market. For two reasons, one ancient
and one modern, the closing of the mines was wrong from
the Chinese viewpoint.

In old China one of the greatest sins is to "break your
neighbor's rice bowl." You might cheat him, yes; but to take
away his livelihood was unthinkable. Only real tyrants would
do that, and in China's history there have been remarkably
few real tyrants.

Then too, the Chinese officials said, "Think of what good
Communist propaganda it will make if we throw those miners
out. They can tell the world all about unemployment on For
mosa. They can say that the 'corrupt, imperialistic Chiang
Kai Shek government* doesn't care enough about the people
to give them jobs."

And of course the Chinese were right, just as they are

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

right in not firing the hundreds of ex-generals, ex-war lords,
ex-Kuomintang leaders who sit about doing nothing in Tai
pei. After all, these men once were important; they did think
enough of their country to flee, even if it was fear for their
necks that caused them to leave the mainland. But fire them,
dump them out jobless? Unthinkable! It is equally unthink
able to the Americans who are attempting to set up a civil
service system that these parasites should be kept on the
public rolls.

Again, the Americans and the Chinese are both right. The
Chinese solution is to kick them upstairs, to give them high
sounding titles, and to keep them out of mischief. Uneco
nomical and inefficient? Yes, of course. But when people come
out of China to join their fellow exiles on Formosa they must
be taken care of. It would be unthinkable to break their rice
bowls. Thus it is that China's civil service must be inflated
and inefficient. Both the Chinese and the Americans are right.
Added to difference of viewpoint and tradition is the frus
tration caused by American policy. The intelligent American
on Formosa knows that it is foolish to waste millions of dol
lars on the island for its own sake. There must be a real pur
pose behind it all, not just a stop-gap, face-saving spending
of tax payers* money. But as yet there is no real purpose to
the program. The Chinese know it, realize it full well. They
have but one purpose, and that is to go home. One hears it
expressed everywhere, by officials and private citizens. Amer
ican officials are in the frustrating position of knowing that
that purpose must be maintained if there be any hope; yet
they also know the programs they administer do not in any
way take that hope into consideration.

It is vastly to the credit of Americans on Formosa that so
much is accomplished with so little friction and frustration.
As an American I am proud of the work done by Gene Au
burn, 'his superiors and his associates. Some of them should
be fired, and from time to time one is. But considering our

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

ineptitude in foreign affairs, considering our lack of policy, I
think America is doing a good job. It is that good job and its
implications that we should look at henceforth rather than
to the past and the mistakes of the past.

There are many good things happening on Formosa be
tween American and Chinese. There is a healthy participa
tion in the affairs of the island, a cooperation between Chi
nese and Americans that is good to see.

Every time I visit Formosa I leave amazed and exhausted
just watching the things that Roberta Auburn does, not be
cause she has to, but because she wants to. And there are
a good many other American wives who do just as much. I
single Roberta out only because I know her program and
her activities, have listened with amazement while she sat at
her phone and arranged a score of activities in a single morn
ing.

There is the Women's Club of Taipei, a truly international
organization but one sparked by American wives like Ro
berta. Its program of activity would put, or should put most
American women's clubs to shame. There are meetings and
projects of some kind going on aU the time: sponsorship of
a craft shop so that the skills of the aborigines may be adver
tised, will bring in money for those who dwell in the hills.
Cigarettes and reading materials are provided for the lonely
soldiers in the Chinese army hospitals. An orphanage re
ceives part of its support; dependents of guerrillas on the
Ta-chen islands get help; reading material is sent forth to
lonely outposts on Kinmen; bedraggled Nationalist guerrillas
and their families, flown in from Burma, are met with a little
gift of clothing, with milk for the frightened kids.

These little projects are carried on by the American wives
on Formosa; and by their activities, relations between Chi
nese and American are strengthened. Some of the projects
engaged in by Roberta Auburn and other wives are far from
little, are even spectacular. The story of the truly remarkable
Taipei American School is worth telling because the school

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

has become international in character, has become a force
binding together a half dozen nationalities.

Surrounded by not-always fragrant rice paddies, within
ten minutes by jet plane from Chinese Communist airbases,
is without doubt the strangest American school in the world.
With an enrollment of over four hundred, the Taipei Ameri
can School is among the largest American schools overseas.
Among its students are Buddhists, Catholics, Protestants,
Moslems and just plain heathen. Although the enrollment is
predominantly American, other nationalities include main-
lander Chinese, native Taiwanese, Thais, Filipinos, Ger
mans, Spanish and English. Among the tongue twisters on
the roll is Adiphon Anumen Rajadhon who fortunately is
nicknamed "Peppy'*; there is Xavier de Larrochoechea, son of
the Spanish ambassador. There are typically American names
such as Davis, Auburn and Bennett. There are scores of Chi
nese students, including the two sons and the daughter of
Generalissimo Chiang Kai Shek's aide. All this heterogeneous
group have their education planned and directed by the Gal-
vert School in far away Baltimore, Maryland. My wife and
I, all our brothers and sisters, are "graduates" of this corre
spondence school that has educated thousands of American
children on every continent.

The Taipei American School has no legal basis for exist
ence and came into being only after a hard struggle. It is not
incorporated or registered in Free China or America. The
school was established five years ago with an enrollment of
nine students who met in the basement of a church and used
ancient textbooks flown out in the retreat from the mainland.
As more Americans arrived on Formosa, the need for a real
school became acute. There were many Chinese, too, who
desired that their children receive an American education.
The story of the school's growth is one of international com
munity effort, of disappointments and problems.

Efforts to get financial aid from the U.S. government failed,
and so the parents borrowed money for their first building.

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

Madame Chiang Kai Shek went security on the loan. The
U.S. air force flew textbooks in from America; a Chinese busi
ness firm donated desks; a U.S. army bulldozer appeared to
level the school playground. The Taipei American School
began its 1953 school year in a brand new $600,000 (New
Taiwan) building. Another loan was necessary, this time
guaranteed by the Joint Commission on Rural Rehabilita
tion. The school is in business now and expects to be around
for some time. There are still problems: the teaching staff
must be recruited from among island wives, for the school
fees are not sufficient to bring teachers from America requir
ing the payment of transportation both ways. Lesser prob
lems include the matter of whose flag shall be saluted, the
nature of the oath of allegiance, the question of whether or
not Christian religious devotions should be required of Bud
dhist, Moslem and heathen. The flag and oath of allegiance
problem have been solved rather neatly. Since Chinese and
American students are in the majority, since it is an American
school on Chinese soil, both flags fly. The oath of allegiance
is given just as it is in any American school, with the under
standing that each child is pledging allegiance to his or her
native land. Religious services have been dropped from the
week day school program. A special Saturday morning Sun
day school is conducted for all those who wish to attend.

The vexing problems of running an international school
are handled by a seven member board of directors, elected
by the parents. The present board consists of an American
businessman, the wife of an American economic aid official,
a Chinese businessman named "Gorilla" Cheng, a Taiwanese
housewife and an American agricultural expert from South
Carolina.

The Taipei American School is a parent-operated private
school. Enrollment fees are high, for it costs a great deal to
operate the school. The grade school textbooks shipped by
Calvert School in 1954 cost ove r $10,000, and the shipment
weighed 8,000 pounds. There is still a big loan to repay.

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

There is a nightmarish problem that is never out of parents'
minds: what to do i and when the Communist air attacks
begin? A direct hit upon the school would snuff out between
400 and 500 lives. The board had solved the legal problem
by requiring all parents to sign a waiver, releasing the school
from all responsibility in case of enemy attack. The children
and teachers do their part by holding frequent air-raid drills.

With two big years of operation under its belt, the Taipei
American School knows that it is succeeding in teaching.
American girls and boys who return to the States find them
selves far ahead of their schoolmates at home.

And as Roberta Auburn, who has two children in the
school, said to me, "I wouldn't have my children miss this
experience for anything. Where else in the world could they
learn so much about other peoples, where else could they
have Chinese, Thai, Filipino playmates?"

K. T. Hu, MIT engineering graduate, builder of the new
school, is looking far into the future. He proudly informed
me that he had built the school in sections so that it can be
quickly taken down and moved to the mainland when, as
he put it, "We Chinese go home and will still be needing
the help of many Americans."

The spirit of cooperation which has made the Taipei Amer
ican School a going institution is part of the story of For
mosa's strength. That same cooperation is evident in the
operations of the Joint Commission on Rural Reconstruction.
Chinese and Americans alike have learned from the mainland
debacle; given a clear and positive policy they could do won
ders together.

Yes, the Americans live well in Taipei, just as they live well
wherever they may be stationed. In Taipei even a single girl
has a whole house to herself. She does pay for it, and she pays
for her servants. She and her sisters have a gay time of it, and
there are some Chinese who probably resent the house and
the gaiety.

But it is one of the good things one sees on Formosa that

165

STILL, THE RICE GROWS GREEN

there is real appreciation for what America does in its some
times bungling way.

On New Year's Eve last I was invited to many parties in
Taipei, not because of me or my name but because there are
many parties and everyone is invited. They begin at five
o'clock and go on until dawn. It is quite a job to figure out
how many of the "musts" can be worked in, even if only for
a token show in the "line up." But I did not go to any of the
many American parties. Instead I was the guest at the home
of a Chinese cabinet minister. The gathering was in strange
contrast to the many American parties I had attended during
the holiday season.

There was no whisky, only beer which a fraction of the
guests took. For the others there were cokes and tea, a sim
ple buffet dinner, much quiet and serious talk.

"Tell me/* I asked my host, "do you Chinese resent all the
money we Americans spend, the big parties we give?"

He was an honest man. First he told me what his party
cost. It wasn't much. It couldn't be much if he were to re
main honest, for his salary is low, and even though he sits
each day in the councils of the great, his wife must work
also, as a simple stenographer.

"Some Chinese are critical of the way you live," he began.
"But most of us realize several things. First you are away
from home; you live in a degree of danger. We know that
most of you get things tax-free here. We understand that at
home in America you live quite differently. We don't be
grudge you your fun here."

Perhaps the minister was being polite, but I think not. And
he was pointing his finger at a glaring defect in our national
make-up. We don't act the same abroad as we do at home!

We Americans are improving in our foreign relations. But
we still have a long way to go. The things that are wrong
cannot be blamed on Senator McCarthy or any congressional
committee. They cannot be blamed on poor pay, for Ameri-

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

can men and women abroad are very well paid. Perhaps our
deficiencies can be traced to our education. We do not really
study languages; we still study foreign lands in terms of this
country being green on the map, the next one being red. We
are extremely provincial, ill at ease among strange peoples
and strange customs. Many of us are not very adaptable.

As a matter of fact, we have never been very good ambas
sadors. The only complete journal of an early American diplo
mat I have ever read is that of John G. A. Williamson, first
American ambassador to Venezuela. Williamson served from
1835 to 1840 and kept a complete diary during those years.

He had then the same biases that Americans have today.
He had the same troubles in his post as Americans still have
abroad: trouble with his cook whom he characterized as a
"scamp"; (how many times have I heard similar appelations
in Taipei, in Shanghai or Seoul! ) ; he had trouble with the
local authorities who put red tape where he felt no red tape
should be; he had trouble with his wife, who wanted, and
eventually did go home. He characterized the people of
Venezuela as without intelligence and commented that the
leaders were interested only in personal ambition.

Like many of his modern counterparts, he was caught short
on his political reporting. When a revolution blew up in his
face, he frankly admitted in his diary that "It came like a
thunderbolt on me never suspecting such a thing, not dream
ing of disaffection of any kind. . . . ?>

Actually the only difference between John Williamson of
1835 and Ambassador Jones of 1954 is that relations with
superiors was informal in those days. Any time he wished
Williamson could drop a note to the Secretary of State or
even to the President. The informality is illustrated by the
fact that once he was a year away from his job and received
nothing more than a mild reprimand.

No, there has been no great change in American human
nature since the days of John Williamson in Venezuela. We

167

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

have been thrust too abruptly into the center of the world's
activities and our failures cannot be blamed upon Congress,
or poor pay. Our foreign service is a cross section of America
today, with all of America's weaknesses and strengths and
with the added weaknesses brought on by a basic provincial
ism. But we do improve surely if slowly.

My wish is that, as the American pioneer brought schools
and the church house into the wilderness, we might put more
emphasis today on things other than the PX, the commissary
and the locker fund. That is our greatest failure, the placing
of so much emphasis upon the material.

The great strength of Free China today is that the spirit
of the people at the top has changed. Certainly there is in
efficiencythere are still too many remnants of mainland
bureaucracy. There are still a few crooks and thieves in high
places. But underneath it all is a spiritual awakening, a will
ingness to admit past faults, a brightness that extends from
lonely Tungting Island to the hideous government headquar
ters building in Taipei. The light is there to see for those who
are willing to search for it.

If we Americans are to fulfill our announced purpose of
helping those who want freedom, we too will have to get a
bit more spiritual light showing. It will not be treaties or
military pacts, economic assistance and military buildups that
will win out in the struggle ahead. The final battle will be
won by the side which has the most complete spiritual dedi
cation. As of now the Communists are clearly ahead of us on
that score.

But light there is on Formosa, and progress too. The ques
tion now is what is to be done with the progress achieved at
such a cost? The question is asked in many forms: Can China
be saved? What can Chiang do? Can the Communists be
driven from power on the mainland? On the answer to these
questions rests the fate of Asia.

168

Chapter 8

MR. JOSEPH ALSOP is considered an expert on the Far
East. He has spent much tune there, traveled through
Formosa in late 1953, a few weeks before I journeyed
to that island en route to Kinmen and the China Coast is
lands. The major results of Joseph Alsop's most recent travels
was a feature story in the Saturday Evening Post entitled
"The Shocking New Strength of Red China." "This army,"
writes Alsop, "is so powerful it is able to upset the balance
of world power/'

This new, unbeatable army developed because of the Ko
rean war. It so frightened U.S. army officers in Korea that a
report on its strength, in Mr. Alsop's words, "has shaken the
Pentagon and caused deep tremors in the State Department."
The Chinese army and its massive air force are so strong, and
here Mr. Alsop quotes unnamed admirals and generals, that
it can if it wishes drive the Seventh Fleet from the Straits
of Formosa and drive our best generals into their cups.
Throughout his dark prophecy Mr. Alsop uses such phrases
as "There is convincing intelligence/* "A secret report to the
Pentagon."

In the light of Mr. Alsop's findings and predictions it seems
presumptuous for me to attempt to answer other than in the
negative that question which has been asked me, over and

169

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

over again, in every section of America. That question is usu
ally put: "Does Chiang Kai Shek have a chance?" It is un
fortunate that the question is so worded, for the future of
China should no longer be considered in terms of one man,
one leader.

The question of whether or not China can he saved must
be answered too, not merely in terms of the vast Red armies
and air forces. Tommy Hsu and the Lady General on For
mosa, Allen Yeh and Chang Chow on Kinmen Island, Chiang
Kai Shek and his son, Chiang Ching Kuo all of these men
and women and thousands of others on Formosa, on the main
land of China, on the guerrilla islands and in Korea will shape
the final answer.

On the basis of military facts, of numbers of men in uni
form, of jet planes that can take to the skies, Mr. Alsop is
probably correct when he writes of the shocking strength of
Communist China. But it is strange that Mr. Alsop, who wor
ries much about the psychological effect of Joe McCarthy on
America and our allies, ignores entirely the psychological fac
tors that also play a part in the future of China, of all Asia.

Mr. Alsop totally ignores the meaning of mass Chinese sur
renders in Korea. Can an army which suffered such defec
tions be shockingly strong? Mr. Alsop totally ignores the
reports of the Communists themselves, reports of such wide
spread disaffection on the mainland of China that hundreds
of thousands of men and women have taken to the hills, to
fight as guerrillas. Can any army, in any land, be shockingly
strong, if it has a half million armed guerrillas in its midst?

Mr. Alsop totally ignores the "convincing intelligence" that
has come out of China, tales from Chinese and American ob
servers, of a hatred of the regime that extends to seventy-five
per cent of the population. Can any army in any land be
shockingly strong when the people its people are against
it?

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

One night I Lad dinner with a young Chinese army colonel
in Taipei. He is American trained and educated, one of the
youngest full colonels in Free China's army. We talked, as
one eventually does with all Chinese on Formosa, of the re
turn to the mainland. I played devil's advocate. I pointed out
to the colonel that from a military standpoint Nationalist
China did not have a chance.

"How in the world/' I asked the Colonel, "can your half
million men land in China and conquer the country as long
as the Communists have five million men? How can you tell
me that you can fight odds ten to one, and have a chance of
winning?"

Colonel Wong is an honest man. He admitted that Free
China's best bet would be a general war in which the U.S.
would be forced to help. But then he began to talk about
history, about American history at that.

"How many men did George Washington have as com
pared to the armies of Great Britain?" he asked. "How large
was the American Navy compared to the British Navy? How
was it possible for the Confederate armies, representing a
small proportion of the American population, to fight for four
years before being def eated?"

Of course the Colonel was talking about something that
happened a long time ago, before there were such things as
jet planes and massed fire power and fifty-mile-an-hour tanks.
Presumably these advances in the techniques and implements
of warfare have submerged the spirit of man so that it now
makes no difference whether or not that spirit burns brightly.

Being realistic, I would say that the young Chinese colonel
is wrong and Joseph Alsop is right. Chiang can probably do
nothing;" China will probably not be saved from Commu
nism, and in not being cleansed of the infection, its illness in
turn will lead to the loss of all of Asia.

But I do say that it need not be so, that China can be

171

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

cleansed and freed and in the process all of Asia made safe,
if only the world's leaders would listen more to the Colonel
Wongs and less to the prophets of doom.

No thinking man in Free China believes that the National
ist armies can land on the coast of China and free her. No
thinking Chinese official thinks that any offensive action can
be successfully initiated without help far beyond what is pres
ently being given. It should be admitted that there are those,
too, who hope for World War III because they believe that
to be China's only chance.

Writers of the Alsop school have made much of the fact
that Chiang was "unleashed" two years ago but as yet has
not freed the mainland. They fail to report that the unleash
ing was verbal, not accompanied by any commitment of in
creased logistic support. Chiang has been put in the position
of a man deputized as a sheriff but given no gun. The term
"unleashing" originated in America and was a hollow Ameri
can gesture not even requested by Free China.

But Free China can, with proper assistance, take and hold
a bridgehead. That bridgehead can, if properly exploited po
litically, be extended. And in the end China can be saved
even though it might require five or ten years. For there are
factors at work in China and on Formosa which are far more
important than the "shocking strength" of Joseph Alsop's Red
Chinese armies.

Red China can be defeated. It can be defeated because the
people of China are sick of brutality and torture, of mass ex
ecutions and fraudulent land reform. It can be defeated be
cause the experience in Korea and that along the China Coast
has proved that vast numbers of the Red Army will surren
der, will desert, if given any opportunity at all. Red China
can be defeated because American prestige among the old
people is still high; the century of American missionary and
other good works has not been forgotten. Red China can be

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

defeated because even geography favors the Nationalists in
the type of operation they will execute.

The "invasion" coast of China is that portion south of the
Yangtse River. It is along that coast, stretching from Shanghai
south to Hong Kong and Canton where a Nationalist landing
must take place. Pin-pointing, it probably should be some
where in the provinces of Fukien or Chekiang.

If Free China is provided with adequate air power, more
landing craft and small naval vessels, more antiaircraft pro
tection for its rear and staging area, a landing on the Fukien
or Chekiang coast can be made, a bridgehead can be gained
and in time extended.

Let us consider the purely military factors for a moment.
If Kinmen Island can be held (but because of vacillating
American policy and the new policy of co-existence, the is
land may be lost before these words appear in print), if the
other Nationalist islands along the Fukien and Chekiang
coasts can be held, the armies of Free China have from five
to twenty miles of water to cross to the mainland.

Once upon the mainland, the Nationalist armies will be
in wild and mountainous terrain. There is no through high
way all along the China Coast. From the coast of Fukien
there are only two highways into the interior. The coastal
highway extending from Amoy to Foochow has never been
completed through to the north. If one is to travel by high
way from the Fukien coast to central China or Shanghai, it
is necessary to strike far inland to the highway that winds
through the mountains of central Fukien, connecting with
Shanghai eventually by way of Hangchow.

In order to reinforce its armies, Nationalist China has five
to twenty-five miles of protected coastal waters to cross. In
order to reinforce their armies, the Communists must move
troops over seven hundred miles of highways if reinforce
ments come from the Shanghai area, over three hundred

173

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

miles of highways if the reinforcements come from Kiangsi
province.

I have traveled those highways by bus, by jeep and on
foot. The road from Fukien into Kiangsi crosses two five-
thousand-foot mountain ranges. It is wild country, reminding
one of the Great Smoky Mountains except that there are vast
bamboo forests instead of forests of pine and hemlock and
spruce.

It was in Kiangsi province, on the borders of Fukien, that
Mao's Chinese Communist army held out for years against
everything that Nationalist China could throw at them. It was
from these same mountains that Mao and Chu Teh and the
other leaders of Communist China began their long march to
the wilds of northwest China and on to the shocking strength
they have achieved today.

The mountains of the China Coast provide some of the
world's finest big game hunting. It is perhaps a measure of
their wildness and remoteness that in Fukien and Chekiang
is the home of the tiger (probably the greatest concentration
of tigers in the world), of wild boars, leopards, the rare se-
rows, and the magnificent Takins, or wild cows. I have walked
for a day in these mountains without seeing a village. I have
stumbled into villages so remote that the people had never
before seen a white man. I have seen tens of thousands of
acres of virgin timber, of uncut bamboo forests that ripple
over the mountain ranges as far as the eye can see.

As school children we learn that China is one of the most
densely populated lands in the world. But we fail to learn
that this population is concentrated in fertile valleys, that
China has vast areas of unpopulated and sparsely populated
land. We learn that China is a land of rice paddies and do
not understand that beyond and above the paddies are moun
tains and forests. The city of Futsing, where I was born, is
on the "invasion" coast just north of Kinmen. It is a county
seat, a city of 25,000 population, on the highway between

174

OF MEN AND DREAMS

Foochow and Amoy. Yet three times within my memory ti
gers have been seen within the city limits. I have shot deer
within a mile of the city's South Gate; excellent wild boar
hunting can be found three miles distant,

Of what use will Mr. Alsop's massed fire power, his regi
ments of tanks, be in such country? One bomb can block any
highway in Fukien at a thousand different spots. True, the
highway can be repaired, the bridges can be rebuilt but they
can be again destroyed the next day, and the next day.

The rivers of coastal China offer no better transportation.
The Min River, connecting with the inland highway at Nan-
ping, 150 miles from the sea, is a wild and turbulent stream
that has never been tamed. Specially constructed motor
launches can navigate the river for a hundred-odd miles, at
an average speed of four miles an hour upstream and ten
miles an hour down river.

Further south near Amoy the Dragon River offers even
less possibility. Certainly troops can be moved by sampan
and junks, but no junk has ever been able to shoot the gorges
and rapids of the coastal rivers at night. With an adequate
air force, river traffic can be slowed to a standstill, highways
can be blocked and kept blocked. The Communists are clever
people; they were able to move complete divisions and com
plete armies at night in Korea. But in North Korea they had
an excellent highway and railway system; in South China
they have neither.

Also in North Korea the Communist army had a small
civilian population with which to contend, and even then it
required the equivalent of nearly ten Communist and North
Korean divisions to keep guerrillas, saboteurs and other dis
sident elements under control.

The population of Fukien province is 12,000,000, compared
to North Korea's population of 8,000,000. The Communists
themselves admit that this population is against them, lament
the fact that in 1953 it was necessary for their troops to fight

175

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

over 5,000 engagements in the province. There are more guer
rillas in this one province of China than there were in all
North Korea. The number could be doubled and tripled, if
the people were given leadership, arms hope.

The coast of China provides no terrain for fleets of Russian-
built tanks; its roads are not suitable for mass movement of
artillery in division strength. And while troops and guns and
tanks are moving in, what of the twenty-five million people
who live in the coastal provinces? If these people know that
a full scale Nationalist landing is under way, will they sit
idly by? These are the people who dumped their cabbage
crop into the rivers last fall rather than let the People's Gov
ernment have it, or tell them how to sell it. These are the
people who already control three mountainous areas in Fu-
kien and Chekiang.

These are the people whose hatred is so great that there
are vast areas where Communist troops dare not go unless in
full company strength. These are the people who dislike the
Russian advisors so much that the "big heads" find it unsafe
even to travel the cities during daylight hours.

And what of the Communist troops? In Korea they surren
dered to Americans, to Koreans, to British, to French, even
to the blood-thirsty Turks. One of the first POW's to be re
turned to Formosa made this statement: "Had there been
even a token Nationalist force in Korea, had there been even
a few token Nationalist flags, our men would have surren
dered by the tens of thousands,"

Another young lad from the far west of China said: *1 sur
rendered to an American unit even though I half believed
the Communist stories that I would be tortured and killed.
But I was sick of brutality, sick of the needless executions I
saw in my home village in Szechwan. And so I took the
chance."

Mr. Alsop forgets entirely the men who did surrender in

176

OF MEN AND DREAMS

Korea; he can see no significance in the fact that these men
were willing to venture into the unknown by the thousands.
On the China Coast, faced with a real landing, there will be
thousands of desertions. Particularly will that be true among
the security forces, the second-string divisions made up of
local men who have not been thoroughly indoctrinated, brain
washed and paralyzed by fear of their political commissars.

A landing on the China Coast will be a massive guerrilla
type operation. It will not require vast fleets of tanks and
divisions of artillery. Indeed such would be a handicap. It
can succeed because every non-military factor and some mili
tary factors are against the Communists.

It can succeed because the people of the China Coast
hate their masters, because this area is deeply imbued with
the century's work of a thousand American missionaries. It
can succeed because reinforcing Communist armies have ten
times and fifty times the distance to move, compared to
attacking armies. It can succeed because Mr. Alsop's fright
ening fleets of tanks will not be able to move over the un
mapped jungles of the Bohia Hills, the tiger-infested wilder
ness of the coastal ranges which rise, tier upon tier, from the
mud flats and the beaches to the farthest horizons.

But still two questions remain. Can Nationalist China take
a bridgehead without American aid? And once taken, what
happens next? Of what good will a small piece of land around
Foochow, or Amoy, or Putien be to Free China?

The generals with whom I talked, on Kinmen, on Matsu,
on Formosa, are honest. They admit they need help from
America. They have needed help even to hold Kinmen, and
it is probable that the help for that will not have been given
in time. They need antiaircraft artillery to defend their is
land bases, their staging areas, their actual landing. It must
be reasonably good hardware, not the ancient, third-hand
stuff America has seen fit to give. They need more small artil-

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

lery, not of the variety that was used in World War I but
modern equipment that can be quickly moved from place to
place.

In a thousand miles of travel along the China Coast, I
saw but two landing craft. Can men safely and effectively
clamber down the prows of ancient steamers and great-eyed
junks? Can they be expected to do so, under enemy fire, and
quickly take their objectives? Free China needs ships not
aircraft carriers or even cruisers. She needs landing-craft, and
small supporting craft of which the United States has thou
sands in shipyards. She needs something besides the Nation
alist patrol ship P-6 on which I went raiding south of Amoy.
For her speed was ten knots maximum, her armament con
sisted of ancient 13 mm Japanese machine guns. She had once
been a trawler in the Japanese fishing fleet and that is where
she belongs today.

Finally, Free China needs planes to cover her landing. She
has received a few. In 1953 we first began to see jets over
Taipei, but precious few. Her bombers are ancient craft,
many of them once belonging to General Chennaulfs 14th
Air Force.

But above all Free China needs something besides a state
ment "unleashing" her. She needs a positive American policy,
one that makes it clear that the United States is interested in
the future, not merely the holding of the island of Formosa.
As I write these words, it still has not even been decided if
Kinmen is to be considered a part of Formosa. After five
years, that island, the only logical staging area for the land
ing that must take place if China is to be freed, has not been
considered within the Formosa defense area. The officers and
men of the American military advisory assistance group on
Formosa have not been allowed to train its defenders, to help
plan for its defense. The two American officers killed on Kin-
men in the late summer of 1954 were merely observers. The

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OF MEN AND DREAMS

statement of American press agencies that the men were on
rotation duty on Kinmen is false,

Americans have been on Kinmen, yes. The men of Western
Enterprises, Inc., the hush-hush CIA agency whose activities
are known to friend and enemy alike, have been training
guerrillas for harassment tactics nothing else.

At this point it is necessary to begin to agree with Joseph
Alsop. It may well be too late, perhaps Red China's armies
have become frightenly strong. For with the Geneva settle
ment, Communist China gained a breathing spell in the push
to the south and she gained rice that may well begin to bal
ance out the bad effects of flood, famine and peasants who
will not cooperate with the People's Government. Already
15,000,000 mainland Chinese have been executed and more
millions will meet the same fate.

If Kinmen, the symbol of Free China s hopes to return, its
"Golden Gate," is allowed to fall, it will be a shattering blow
for those on the mainland who have fought on. Mr. Alsop
has, of course, called the turn on this one too: he announced
himself as opposed to American assistance to the coastal is
lands. Such assistance would of course only further antago
nize the frightening military machine that has already set
Mr, Alsop to having nightmares.

But let us suppose we gave, or had given, Nationalist China
that military and moral support I have advocated. Let us sup
pose that a bridgehead was carved out of the Fukien or Che-
kiang coast. Of what value would a few hundred square miles
be in the struggle for several million square miles?

It is at this point that psychological factors, so often not
understood by American military experts, again enter into
the picture. And also the Nationalists would reach the most
dangerous part of their return journey, far more dangerous
than the actual landing of troops.

If Free China instituted immediately the rural reforms she

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

lias developed on Formosa, if she placed men like little Mr.
Chen Shi Ho, who directs the army agricultural experiment
station on Kinmen, in charge of agricultural programs in the
liberated areas, there would begin a crumbling process that
would undoubtedly end in final victory.

Every Chinese in authority, military and civilian, under
stands how important immediate demonstration of National
ist reforms will be. And there are many who also understand
the problems that will be faced.

"There will be some among us who will see return to the
mainland as opportunity to get rich," an agricultural expert
admitted, as a group of us sat at one of the long discussions
that went on each night that I spent on Kinmen.

Magistrate Chang Chow added his voice.

"There will be people who will not be able to withstand
the temptation/' he said. "There will be people like those who
went to Taiwan in the early days of the Restoration. They
went only to exploit, to get rich/'

The fact that the men of Free China realize their problem
is encouraging. The fact that skeleton civil administration
teams are already being trained, on Formosa, on Kinmen,
and on the Ta-chen Islands, is also very encouraging.

Already the Fukien provincial government-in-exile is func
tioning on Kinmen, the Chekiang provincial government-in-
exile on the Ta-chens. Two hsien (county) governments have
been established on Matsu Island, ready to move into the
adjacent mainland counties. Already several score guerrilla
islanders have gone to Formosa to undergo extensive training
in civil government. Already over 200,000 Taiwan dollars
have been appropriated to begin a land reform program on
Kinmen.

If Free China goes into a bridgehead with rural experts,
agricultural specialists, with a land reform program drawn
up and ready to apply, with men like Tommy Hsu and Chen

180

OF MEN AND DREAMS

and Chang Chow in positions of authority, all of Red China's
millions of troops will not be able to stop the advance.

Even the many apologists for Red China,, those who once
proclaimed the agrarian reformers, keep silent now about
Mao's land reform. It has been a fraud and a failure, and
when the farmers of China see real land reform there can
be no question as to the final results. Here again the im
portance of tiny Kinmen enters the picture. The thousands
of troops on that island will be among the first to go ashore,
to fan out into mainland China. Every man, whether he be
from the plains of Manchuria or the Yangtse Valley will
go out with a new knowledge of farming, with the lessons
learned in the agricultural classes he has attended, from the
visits to Mr. Chen's experiment station. Sixty thousand strong,
these men, whether or not even Free China's leaders realize
it yet, will become more potent than an equal number of
tanks. In time they will spread to the far corners of the land.
Some will fall by the wayside, some will go back to fanning
and living by superstition. But most of die men will carry-
on what they have learned. They will bring into battle a
powerful weapon.

One of the most exciting stories to come out of the Far
East appeared in an August 1954 issue of the Saturday Eve
ning Post. Entitled "They Hit Red China Where It Hurt,"
and written by Allen Whiting, a Ford Foundation Scholar in
Formosa, it is the story of the Red soldiers who surrendered,
who chose to return to Free China. Mr. Whiting interviewed
scores of the men and on the basis of these interviews writes:
"No other policy of the Nationalist Government excites these
former Communists so much as its bloodless [italics mine]
land reform and reduction of rents. As one man put it, *We
never knew on the mainland that this government is no
longer just a friend of the landlord.' "

Writing of the friendship for America, upon which I have

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

already commented, Mr. Whiting states: "Time after time I
heard outpourings of friendship and admiration for America
. . . my sudden, unanticipated appearance [at the camp for
repatriates] always brought a crowd of smiling, chattering
men."

And finally. Whiting writes: "Most of the former Commu
nists we interviewed had no illusions about defeating Red
China. Although all thought it could be done, a significant
number attacked the half-way measures now being used!"
The tremendous importance of the psychological factors com
pletely ignored by Joseph Alsop is stressed by a frequent
comment reported by Whiting: "The people on the mainland
don't know about Formosa; they are losing hope/*

As the Communists succeeded once because of the ideas
they expounded, the bright promises they flashed, the dedi
cation with which they worked, so can the men of Free China
succeed. Yes, there will be some crooks and exploiters. There
will be some corrupt officials and generals who will still be
willing to make deals.

But there will also be scores and hundreds and thousands
of Tommy Hsus and Allen Yehs. And with the dreadful les
sons of the past well learned, it is they who should prevail.
But of course it is necessary to amend that statement: it is
they who could have prevailed.

How long would it take? Five years, perhaps even ten. For
Communist China is strong, even though her feet are of clay.
There would be thousands of the young who have been brain
washed and who may never surrender. But in those years Red
China would no longer be a menace to the rest of Asia. Her
armies would be tied down. As the news of Free China's New
Deal spread, there would be uprisings from the Coast to the
borders of Tibet. Propaganda warfare would turn millions
away from Communism; partisan warriors would keep Red
China's best troops engaged. There would be suffering for

182

OF MEN AND DKEAMS

millions of people, insecurity for more millions, but would
not the stakes make it worth while?

One of America's top diplomats in Asia stated the situation
clearly and unequivocally when he told me: "If there is to
be a free and friendly Asia, there must be a free and friendly
China. It may take five years, ten years or a generation. But
Americans must understand that fact, must make the de
cision as to whether we want a free and friendly Asia/*

To date, the decision has been in the negative. My diplo
mat friend might have added that all the treaties, all the
SEATO's in the world will not change the validity of his
statement. If Asia is to be friendly and free, China must first
be free.

And in the final answer, it will probably require more than
Free China on Formosa to win the decision. For to the north
of Free China there is another land, once a vassal of the Chi
nese emperors, but now Formosa's only true ally in the fight
against Communism in Asia.

The Republic of Korea is a tragic and devastated land. But
nothing has so stirred the people of Free China as Syngman
Rhee's visit to Formosa in 1953. For Korea has 600,000 men
under arms and could have many more. Its fighting men
have proved themselves. Of course Rhee's visit to Formosa
was frowned upon by American authorities. No American
dignitaries were at Taipef s airport to greet him. Neither is
Korea included in SEATO, the tragic jumble of meaningless
words which seeks to keep Asia free.

But the armchair strategists of Free China can still hope
and dream. What would happen, they say, if before Red
China recovers from her economic ills, while the people are
still fighting back, while men and women still live who are
willing to fight what would happen if simultaneously with
a Nationalist landing on the coast of China, Rhee's armies
were allowed to strike north? Could the Communists prevail

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

if confronted with a two-front war, with massive partisan and
guerrilla operations all the way from the borders of Indo-
China to the mouth of the Yalu?

The armchair strategists have a right to hope, even if their
hopes may never be realized. For in spite of the greatest
devastation known in modern times, the rice grows green in
Korea. There, too, men work on and hope men like the Hsus,
the Chens, the Yehs of China. If their hopes and dedication
and dreams could be somehow welded together, Asia could
indeed be free. There indeed would be a frightening force,
one that could achieve, in the words of Joseph Alsop, "the
balance of power in Asia."

Korea and China have been linked through centuries. In
vaders from the Mongolian plains conquered Korea nearly
eight hundred years ago. For centuries it was a vassal of
China, paying yearly tribute to China's emperors. There was
a time when the Korean kings, like Free China's rulers today,
refugeed to an island, there to hold out against the invaders
for decades. The future history of Asia may now depend upon
an alhance of Free Korean and Free Chinese, fighting to
gether against a common enemy.

184

BOOK THREE

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT,
JVOR HELP THEMSELVES

Chapter 1

JUNE i/di, 1953 was not a spectacular day along the Ko
rean front. There were the usual light forays; the usual
number of Americans, British, Chinese, Koreans and Turks
were killed or maimed on night patrol. At Panmunjom, in
Washington and in London there was talk, not of more fight
ing, but of possible peace.

Suddenly far behind the fighting front, on barren Koje
Island, at POW camps near Pusan at Inchon, thousands of
North Korean prisoners of war suddenly broke out of their
stockades and rapidly melted into the white-clad stream of
Korean life.

After a few hours of stunned silence enraged cries came
forth from the capitals of the Western World. A few hours
later Radio Peiping added its shrill voice in denunciation of
the "puppet" Syngman Rhee and his American warmonger
supporters. The name of Syngman Rhee, already well known,
suddenly became a nasty word in most of the newspapers of
the world. Throughout America, in Great Britain, in France
the actions of this frail old man were denounced.

The Nashville Tennessean, morning newspaper in the capi
tal city of Tennessee, is a typical liberal newspaper. On the
morning after Syngman Rhee released anti-Communist pris
oners, die Tennessean began a series of editorials which

187

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

continued through June and July. On July ist, the news
paper headed its almost daily anti-Rhee editorial: "Black
mail Doesn't Pay, Mr. Rhee."

The editorial then continued: "Blackmail is dirty business,
wherever you find it, and those who succumb to it are only
asking for more trouble.

"On this basis the United States is wise in turning down
President Syngman Rhee's demands in South Korea. The
aged marplot is fully capable of violating any agreement he
might sign. . . . More and more, Mr. Rhee's position ap
proaches that of open enmity toward the democratic saviors
of his country ... he is now almost as dangerous to Ameri
can forces as is the Red Army/'

Other newspapers were no less bitter. Soon the American
radio added its voice. Martin Agronsky, winner of the Pea-
body Award, pointed out that on the head of Korea's dictator
president lay the blame for the blood being let in the vicious
Chinese attack that followed soon upon Rhee's action.

A British MP made it plain how Britain would handle such
a case! There were demands that General Mark Clark should
arrest the dictator, that he should be deposed and a Korean
more amenable to United Nations policies be installed in his
place. A famous British general opined that he would have
had the matter under control within ten minutes and left no
doubt as to the ineptitude of American handling of such
situations.

Here and there in America there were calmer voices, point
ing out a certain logic in the old man's position. Other voices
began to join in, particularly after the strange spectacle o
an American general apologizing to an enemy general for the
acts of an allied chief of state. The New Leader magazine
summed up the growing feeling of many Americans in its
editorial of June 2gth. Said the New Leader:

"However one regards the action of Korean President
Syngman Rhee in releasing upwards of 25,000 prisoners of

188

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

war from South Korean prison camps, our reaction is not tliat
of an understanding and intelligent friend. Judging by some
of our official pronouncements, in fact, one would have every
right to question whether or not we are speaking as a friend
of Korea.

"Consider, for example, a letter written on June i8th by
the United Nations' Senior Delegate at Panmunjom, Lieuten
ant-General William K. Harrison, Jr. The letter is addressed
to his opposite number, North Korean General Nam IL In
it, General Harrison is most apologetic. He confides to Gen
eral Nam, in fact, that he strongly condemns President Rhee's
act as not quite cricket but as 'actual collusion between the
Republic of Korea Army guards and the prisoners/ Maintain
ing his chivalrous stance to the very end, General Harrison
assures General Nam that ^efforts are being made to recover
the prisoners.' It won't do, you know, to have liberated Com
munist slaves running around a country that Communists
have done so much to improve and beautify."

The New Leader ended its editorial with the statement
that "Perhaps, instead of condemning Syngman Rhee, we can
learn something from him."

As the days passed into weeks, American opinion began
gradually to swing to one of grudging admiration of an old
man who alone faced up to the whole democratic and Com
munist world. The Nashville Tennessean, so violent in its first
treatment of the incident, began to realize that public opin
ion did not support its views. By July /th, the Tennessean
had come to the point of observing that: "He [Rhee] merits
protection if he will play the part of a loyal and trustworthy
ally. . . ."

Other Tennessean editorials appeared on July loth, 14th,
i6th, i/th and 2ist. On July 14th the paper became down
right friendly in its statement that "Yet, it can also be ob
served that if all democracies' friends were as steadfast and
courageous as he [Rhee], the outlook of the world might be

189

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

far better indeed." The open season on Dr. Rhee finally ended
when the Tennessean began an editorial with the words:
"Whether President Syngman Rhee of Korea is a blackmail
er or super patriot, and now it seems the latter to be the
case. . . ."*

Thus, in less than a month, President Syngman Rhee be
came for one newspaper as he did for many others, not a
blackmailer, not a marplot (one who defeats a plan by of
ficious interference) but a patriot.

The happenings of June i/th, 1953, were but a prelude to
another series of interesting and unprecedented occurrences
in Seoul. There began the greatest number of Very Important
Person visits in the history of a small nation. American gen
erals flew in from Japan to talk, to argue, to pound the table.
A soft spoken assistant Secretary of State, native of Virginia,
came for two days and stayed for two weeks. He was fol
lowed by the Secretary of State. For a nation, unknown to
most Americans three years ago, this was well beyond the
normal quota of State visitors. The wizened old man who had
caused all the trouble had already been called upon by our
President-Elect nine months earlier. And to complete the
list, the Vice President of the United States also traveled the
road to Korea.

How wrong was Syngman Rhee of Korea when he stated
that the truce was a mistake, would be a prelude to further
Communist pressure elsewhere?

The events since Panmunjom partially justify his stand,
prove that not only is his batting average in the field of proph
ecy not bad, but that others before him were not far wrong
in their judgments.

The late Senator Robert A. Taft was considered able in
many fields but even among his friends there were those who
believed the senator was weak on foreign affairs, could not
fathom the intricacies of the art of dealing with other na
tions. Taft's last major speech, delivered by his son because

190

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

the senator's last days were already upon him, has been called
the "Go It Alone" address. It shocked many, was considered
so ill advised that the President of the United States saw fit
to comment officially upon it.

In his "Go It Alone" address Robert Taft made a prophecy.
He stated on that spring day in 1953 that: "Even the best
truce under present conditions will be extremely unsatisfac
tory. It will divide Korea along an unnatural line and will
create an unstable condition likely to bring war again at any
minute. It will release a million Chinese soldiers, who no
doubt will be promptly moved down to Southern China for
use against Chiang Kai Shek or against the French in Indo-
China. ... I believe we might as well abandon any idea of
working with the United Nations in the East and reserve to
ourselves a completely free hand."

Who can say now that Bob Taft or Syngman Rhee was
wrong?

Far more recently, General James Van Fleet, one of the
few American generals who has been able to effectively work
with the soldiers of so-called backward peoples, stated in an
article carried by U. S. News and World Report ( September
17, 1954) that the Korean truce was a profound mistake
"which the American people should greet with a sense of
shame."

Van Fleet continued: "A truce is indicated only when a
political settlement is in sight. And clearly, to me at least,
we had no basis for one either in Korea or anywhere else in
Asia. . . . Our superb fighting men plus the equally superb
divisions of the Korean Republic might have engaged and
destroyed the enemy. Instead, they became the pawns of that
diplomatic caucus [the UN]."

But my purpose is not to write of the past, but of future
possibilities. Let us presume that the free world wakes up
in time to escape the catastrophe in Asia. Does devastated
Korea have any part to play? Are there still enough Koreans

STILL THE BICE GROWS GREEN

with hope and courage to supplement that displayed by the
men and women of Kinmen, or Formosa?

Neither Korea as a nation, nor Koreans as people are very
popular these days. It would be nice if we could forget about
the Korean business; for the failure to give the Koreans the in
dependence, freedom and unity promised at Cairo and since
must weigh heavily on official conscience. It is not fashion
able to damn Syngman Rhee now, but neither he nor his peo
ple will win any international popularity contest.

"These people will not fight; they won't help themselves.
What can you do with them?" I overheard these words one
day in September of 1953, the words spoken through the
flimsy partitions which separated me from a British war cor
respondent living next door in the Eighth Army war corre
spondents* billets in Seoul.

My British colleague was in conversation with a number
of fellow correspondents, American and British. His judg
ment of the Korean people was concluded by a bald state
ment that four out of every five American dollars poured into
Korean relief went into the pockets of Syngman Rhee and
his cronies.

If this be a true indictment there is little hope left in Ko
rea, little use in considering it and its peoples a part of Asia's
struggle to remain free.

Granted that there is a certain amount of corruption and
depravity in Korea, that there is little of the stability that
marks Japan, or Formosa, or even embattled Kinmen. But in
Korea too there is progress and hope for those willing to look.
And the search need not be difficult. I found tall rice growing
green in the city limits of Seoul; elsewhere I found thrilling
evidence of a people not yet defeated. Even in Korea there
are men like Tommy Hsu, dreaming bright dreams.

192

Chapter 2

IT WAS the day after I overheard my British colleagues de
nouncing the Korean people that I drove south to Suwon,
an ancient Korean city renowned for its city wall and
picturesque gates. It had been over three years since I had
seen the city, where in better days I had spent much time.

In the prewar days I had been drawn there often by the
fine pheasant hunting and by the thousands of ducks and
geese pouring into the mud flats and marshes to the west of
the city during the winter months. Gene Auburn and I had
spent many hours in those marshes, often uncomfortable
hours of bitter cold until the discomfort suddenly disap
peared in the thrill of seeing and hearing a vast flight of
waterfowl approaching.

Nowhere in Asia can the change wrought by war be bet
ter seen than in Suwon. Where once there had been one
American living, an agricultural expert assigned to the ex
periment station, there are now 12,000 Americans living in
and around the city, A jet air base nearby constantly throbs
and rumbles with life. Everywhere in tike city are signs that
indicate war and the presence of Americans. Suwon changed
hands six times between 1950 and 1953, and each battle took
its toll. It is no longer a lovely city, but it is a city where I

193

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

found what I sought evidence that Korea's spirit is still alive
and unbroken. For in the Suwon hills I met the lepers who
would not give up. x

High on the hillside overlooking a lovely valley I found a
colony of forty-seven men, women and children who have
the world's most feared disease. Hansen's disease, the doctors
call it, and now we are told that it is not as loathsome and
infectious as mankind has been led to believe for the past
three thousand years.

For three years the Suwon lepers lived under a highway
bridge, their only protection from Korea's winter winds and
snow a piece of canvas hung from the bridge railing. The
lepers were simply forgotten in the ebb and flow of war. The
Communist armies ignored the colony as it moved up and
down the valley. United Nations forces, too, thought little
of the men, women and children huddled under the bridge.
For Korea was filled with human flotsam all through the win
ters of 1950, 1951 and 1952.

During the spring of 1953, even as the men at Panmunjom
were nearing the end of the longest truce negotiations in the
world's history, the lepers decided to help themselves. Their
valley had not been touched by fighting for months. Peace
of a sort had come. It was time to look to the future.

And so the lepers organized in democratic fashion; for
without organization and leadership, how could they make
known their needs? Forty-four-year-old Kim Man Gu was
elected president of the colony. It was agreed at once that
the lepers must move out from under the bridge, must find
land where they could begin to farm and live again, where
shelter could be provided for the children of the group.

Kim Man Gu began then the first of many long treks over
the dusty highways. For even though the disease had not yet
left its devastating and tell-tale marks on his face, even
though he could pass as a normal human, Kim refused to
subject others to his uncleanness.

194

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

First Kim Man Gu walked to Seoul, forty-six miles away,

"How long did it take you?" I asked.

"Oh, about a day. Really more than a day/* he replied. And
then he added: "It would not have been so bad had I been
able to find shelter that night. I could not go to a hotel, I had
no friends, I was afraid to even sleep close to other refugees."

In Seoul, Kim Man Gu made known his condition and the
needs of his people. Sympathetic government officials grant
ed the lepers a tract of land on the hillside above their high
way bridge home. Then began the task of finding funds with
which to build shelter, to buy fanning equipment, seed.

The lepers pooled all their resources: a bit of money here,
a piece of jewelry carefully saved through the years of war.
Those who could still locate relatives wrote and walked for
help. It was not much, the money they collected, but it was
enough to build one simple house. And Kim Man Gu pro-
vided further shelter by walking once again to Seoul, ninety
miles round trip. There he secured three surplus tents.

But one mud-and-bamboo house and three tents still does
not make a home. There must be crops, above all there must
be rice. The first crop was planted in the spring of 1953, and
it was a difficult crop to start. The hillside was cleared by
hand; a water supply for the paddies-to-be was provided by
digging a ditch far up the mountainside to a stream. The dig
ging was of course done by hand. There were no oxen in the
colony that spring, and the plowing too must be done by
hand. Slowly the terraced paddies took shape; the bright
green of tightly packed rice seedlings filled a tiny seed plot
by May. Then came the transplanting, when one by one the
rice seedlings must be taken from the seed plot and planted
in careful rows in the flooded paddies.

All of this was accomplished that spring of 1953, and the
first crop was ripening when I walked and talked with Kim
Man Gu in the first September after the truce. There were
other crops, toosweet potatoes and a bumper yield of cab-

195

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

bage which would be ready when Kimchi-making time came
in late October, Kimchi being the pickled cabbage that is
Korea's national dish.

But the lepers of Suwon's hills still lacked one important
thing. Kim Man Gu is an intelligent and educated man. He
knew that medical help was needed, especially for the chil
dren, several of whom were still free from disease. He knew
little of the United Nations, did not understand that the UN
had funds and men to help such as he. But he did know that
there were Americans, many Americans, near Suwon and he
knew that Americans were kindly and big-hearted people,
lavishly equipped with medicines.

And so it was that Kim Man Gu took another walk, this
time to the jet air base near Suwon. I do not know just what
happened at the air base. Kim did not find the help he needed
there, but he was directed to another unit of the U.S. army
known as the "Civil Assistance Team for the Province of
KyonggT in which Suwon is located.

At Civil Assistance Command Headquarters Kim Man Gu
had an extraordinary piece of luck. There he met Dr. Gu-
Uiermo Lopez of Mexico City, public health officer of the
Suwon Civil Assistance Team. In little Dr. Lopez, Kim Man
Gu found a sympathetic ally. Perhaps Dr. Lopez' interest
stems from the fact that he too comes from what we so glibly
call an "underdeveloped" country. In the mountains of Mex
ico he had seen the pathetic aloneness of men and women in
need but who knew not where to go for help.

Dr. Lopez immediately visited Kim Man Gu's colony. He
was shocked to find most of the lepers still living in drafty
tents, to find that they had no sanitary facilities, no source
of safe drinking water. He went into action. Not only did he
get medicines, but he enlisted the help of other members of
the Suwon Civil Assistance Team. Cyril Pires, sanitation of
ficer, a native of India, went out to help plan privies and a
well. Jack Purvis, a Canadian and in charge of welfare, found

196

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

that Kim Man Gu's people could legitimately receive much
help from his department.

By the time I visited the leper colony, the Civil Assistance
Team had gone into full scale action, and a new and brighter
life lay ahead for the forty-seven lepers. Among other things,
new houses were being built, a total of five modest dwellings
but enough to provide a roof over the head of every leper, to
give a little privacy to family groups, to provide a measure of
isolation for those children who had not yet shown symptoms
of the disease.

The colony lies three miles off the highway and on a hill
side far above it. Kim Man Gu and his people had just com
pleted a new project when I visited them. I suspect that it
was done primarily because of gratitude for the help of Gu-
lliermo Lopez. They had built, by hand of course, a narrow
roadway through the pine trees so that Dr. Lopez could drive
to their village, so that it would be no longer necessary for a
busy doctor to walk three miles on his calls.

But in accepting all of the assistance that has suddenly
come to them, the lepers themselves have attached strings*
Kim Man Gu had asked only for medicine. He had gotten
help in building as well, some surplus food and the materials
to build five new houses.

"We would like to repay the U.S. army for the building
materials/' Kim told me proudly. "You see with the govern
ment rice ration, with our first harvest coming in this fall*
our people will he self-sufficient within another year. We will
not need help from America."

Then Kim added an afterthought, wistfully saying: "O
course there are many others like us in Korea. We would like
to find them and invite them to join us in a life of dignity. We
could use help in getting others of our kind here."

The whole village lined up to bow and wave goodbye when
Dr. Lopez and I left. There was no shyness, no groveling
among these people who had been human derelicts for three

197

STILL THE KICK GROWS GREEN

years. The move from the drafty shelter of a highway bridge
to homes of their own on a lovely hillside had been made
possible by their own efforts. Help they were receiving, and
will receive; but the assistance had been accepted with dig
nity, only with the understanding that it is temporary. Kim
Man Gu has fought for and earned what he has achieved for
his people.

These are the people who "will not help themselves." The
existence of people like Kim and his followers is overlooked,
just as is the magnificent struggle of the people on Kinmen
Island, in the mad rush to criticize and damn, in the desire
always to find something wrong. But for me there is an ex
citing coincidence in the finding of Kim Man Gu and in my
findings on Kinmen. Kim is Korea's most frequent surname.
It means "gold," is the same character that appears in the
name of the important island of Kinmen in Chinese guerrilla-
land.

My visit to Kim Man Gu's lepers came as a climax to a long
day with the Suwon Civil Assistance Team, an unusual and
truly United Nations group of men, charged with relief and
rehabilitation of one of Korea's hardest hit provinces. The
Suwon Team was then under the command of Lieutenant
Colonel John McNiel of Oakland, California. He is of course
long since gone. One of the tragedies of U.S. army-directed
activities is that a good man may be just started, developing
a program with understanding and initiative only to be trans
ferred to a new post and new duty 10,000 miles away.

The Team consisted of Dr. Lopez, Jack Purvis and Cyril
Pires who I have already mentioned, Norman Price, an Aus
tralian and Gunnar Fries from Denmark. The civilians on the
team were all paid by the United Nations Korean Rehabilita
tion Administration. But they operated as part of an Ameri
can Military Command for the simple reason that the UN
rehabilitation effort had for months been tangled in so much

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

red tape and bickering ^that its personnel were powerless to
act constructively. Here and there all over Korea UN person
nel had been "seconded" (a UN term) to the U.S. army
where, relieved of paralyzing United Nations red tape and
indecision, they could begin to help the Korean people.

Suwon is the Provisional Capital of Kyonggi Province, in
which Seoul is located (Asia is filled with "provisional capi
tals" these days: Taipei is the provisional capital of China;
Kinmen is the provisional capital of Fukien province). Con
sider the task that faced the men of Colonel McNiel's team

in 1953 and 1 954'

Of a population of 2,000,000 a total of 940,000 on relief.

A total of 120,000 "extreme" cases people who are com
pletely, utterly destitute.

Twenty thousand families without shelter during the win
ter of 1953-54- .

Sixty thousand contaminated wells, many of them with
still unclaimed human bodies.

Four hospitals to serve 2,000,000 people, most of whom are
suffering from serious malnutrition.

To solve Kyonggi-do's enormous problems requires the
bringing in of nearly all drugs, tons of rice and other grains,
clothing for those who are completely destitute. Each fall a
tremendous blanket program, costing $2,500,000 must be in
itiated. Each family of four receives one blanket, a family of
five two blankets. Other blanket distribution must go to or
phanages, prisons and hospitals.

No one can give an accurate figure as to the value of relief
and rehabilitation supplies that must flow into each province.
It runs into the millions of dollars, And if my British col
league in Seoul was correct about the general dishonesty of
Koreans and the specific dishonesty of Korean officialdom,
here indeed would be a good place to verify his judgment.

I talked to each of the team's technical men: Lopez, Pires,

199

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

and Purvis; for they are the men who do the actual distribu
tion of grain, drugs, tents, blankets and clothing.

"How much of this stuff you hand out goes into the pockets
of Korean officials?" I asked each man.

And each man gave me separately, and later collectively
as we talked together, the same answer.

Jack Purvis, as welfare officer, distributes the greatest vol
ume of relief goods, and his answer was quick and unequivo
cal.

"A maximum of five per cent of all the relief goods we
handle gets into illegitimate channels," he told me.

Was that a pretty good figure? Yes, indeed, Purvis thought
it was an excellent figure. Then Pires added this thoughtful
statement: "The stomach must come first," he said. "After
that come morals."

And he told me of some of the problems his Korean coun
terparts faced in their work. There is one Korean sanitation
officer for each Gun or county. He has no jeep, no transporta
tion of any type. His salary will run perhaps the equivalent
of one and a half dollars each month. When he travels (by
foot, or by hitch-hiking) he has no per diem allowance, must
even pay for his own lunch.

In each myun or township there is one man who handles
sanitation, welfare and health. These officials in general had
not been paid in three months.

What a temptation it must be under such circumstances to
take a few bottles of drugs, a blanket or two or even a bag of
rice!

Yet only five per cent, and all agreed that this was a maxi
mum figure, went into what the U.S. army calls "illegal"
channels!

What kind of cooperation did the CAC team members get
from the Koreans?

"Excellent!" Purvis said. And he added that it was not ser-

J200

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

vile cooperation. Especially since President Rhee released
the POW's, the Korean officials had shown more spirit, more
inclination to argue their views rather than to quickly accept
whatever the foreigner proposed.

The Suwon Civil Assistance Team is, or was, one o Ko
rea's best. The degree of cooperation between team members
and Koreans varies from province to province just as does
the calibre of Americans and other foreigners. There are
places where the program is inefficient, places where corrupt
officials siphon off a larger part of incoming relief goods.

But the record, for those who will investigate fairly and
honestly, clearly refutes the charge that four out of five, or
any large proportion of American aid, goes into official pock
ets. The record clearly shows too, that the Korean people are
helping themselves, that given direction and understanding
of the type provided by the Suwon Civil Assistance Team,
they will effectively do their part to solve their problems.

Dishonesty there is in Korea, but it is much like dishonesty
in America. There is more o it in shockingly crowded cities,
in poverty stricken areas, than in the country. And there is a
significant relationship between the degree of dishonesty and
the number of Americans stationed in an area. Before the
Korean government and people are condemned it might be
well to ponder the fact that the amount of stealing, the mag
nitude of the black market operation varies in direct pro
portion with the American military population. The more
Americans, the more dishonesty and corruption.

Seoul and Pusan are among the wickedest cities in the
world, the streets teeming with pickpockets and petty thieves
of every variety, the black markets bulging with American
and United Nations relief goods, with all the miraculous
things sold in U.S. army post exchanges. It is said that from
one to two hours is required for a new PX item to reach the
black market after it is unpacked at the PX. Or perhaps it

201

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

would be more accurate to state that the new item goes di
rectly from the truck or the railroad car, sometimes hitting
the black market before it goes on sale in the PX.

How does an expensive wrist watch travel in its course
from shipping crate to the Seoul black market?

Time magazine, usually friendly to Koreans and Chinese,
in its June yth, 1954 issue, described the event which throws
most consternation into blackmarketers, whether they be Ko
rean, Japanese or Chinese. In occupied countries, or wher
ever the U.S. has large military forces, military personnel
and official American civilians use MFC's (military payment
certificates) in lieu of green-backs. "GF money, it is called,
and although generally considered a little below green-backs
in value, it is always considered far more valuable than un
certain local currencies. It is eagerly collected by hundreds
of thousands of people who do not have faith in their own
currency.

The military script issue has been changed four times since
it was first issued in 1946. Each change is accompanied by
the most complete security regulations. No one is supposed
to know when the changeover occurs. I well remember the
changeover of 1948, when all of us in the little Korean city
of Chunchon were suddenly ordered to appear at the mili
tary government dining hall with all of our money. It was
changed, right there on the spot and henceforth we paid for
our PX and commissary supplies with MFC's of a different
color.

The changeover that occurred in 1954 was the biggest as
far as the Far East is concerned. It extended from the front
lines in Korea, through every military post in Japan; it blank
eted Okinawa and all the other islands where Americans are
stationed.

Time colorfully reports the last changeover, ending its
story thus: "For one glorious day, GI's had revenge [on
the blackmarketers]. But blackmarketers had the last word.

202,

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

Three days after the switch, they were doing a brisk busi
ness in the new script, at the old price 3,500 hwan [Korean
currency] for $10 MFC [new issue]/'

Time obviously and rightly disapproves of the rapidity
with which the blackmarketers got back into business, buy
ing and selling currency they had no right to possess, holding
up innocent young American soldiers who were in need of a
few hwan for a foray into the native market.

But how do the Koreans, the Japanese or the Okinawans
get military payment certificates? Do they present themselves
at changeover time and make their switches? Do they walk
into army finance offices (where signs announce that "in
digenous" personnel cannot possess MFC's ) and simply ask
that the officers in charge change their hwan or their yen
into solid American army paper?

Obviously there is but one way in which "indigenous" per
sonnel can possess American money or, except in the case o
break-ins and thievery, any PX items. Americans must be in
volved. It is the American, who in violation of regulations, at
the constant risk of cheapening the local currency, passes
Army paper into the stream of Korean or Japanese life* The
soldier pays his girl off in MFC's, pays for native goods with
MFC's. The American soldier too pays for services with a
vast variety of PX goods. But what is more damning is that
Americans are in nearly every case involved in the mass
movement of PX goods from PX to black market.

A Korean newspaper man told me that among Korean
women the most popular Americans were sergeants, prefer
ably supply sergeants or those attached to a PX or a Com
missary. For the noncommissioned officer will most certainly
supply his girl friend, probably will supply her whole family.
And always there is the possibility that he can be persuaded
or will himself suggest that operations be expanded a bit,
that a ring be set up whereby he can funnel American goods
into the black market.

203

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

One American officer told me that he estimated that Amer
icans, officers and enlisted men, were involved in ninety per
cent of the major thefts of American property in Korea.

I have seen Americans at work in Korea long before our
men suffered from the uncertainty of war. During Military
Government days at Chunchon it was discovered that large
quantities of gasoline and even tires were disappearing from
our motor pool. It was natural that every Korean employee
was hauled in and grilled, for surely the Koreans were in
volved.

One Korean was involved. But he was merely the "fence."
The goods were being slipped to him by two nice American
lads, who incidentally pocketed most of the profits.

It is not my intention to damn American troops. The pro
portion of dishonest to honest soldiers is not high. But I
maintain that a blanket condemnation of the Koreans as a
"thieving" race is manifestly unfair and dishonest. Consider
ing economic pressures, the people of Korea are no more dis
honest, nor more thieving than Americans.

The peoples of Asia are under terrific pressure, morally
and economically. Like any peoples, of any color, there are
those who crack. Sometimes it is a man in high position
whose salary cannot begin to feed and clothe his family.
Sometimes little real pressure is needed, for there are those
already weak, who easily slip into corruption. But any indict
ment of people must always consider the conditions under
which the people live, and about that I shall have more com
ment in succeeding chapters.

Formosa, Japan, Korea, indeed all of Asia is filled with
people who have endured unbearable pressure but many of
them still retain their integrity and hope for better days. It
is not only the adults whose lives have been twisted by war
and uncertainty. It is particularly the children who have un
dergone things no child should experience in an age of civil
ization.

204

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

For those who criticize Korea and the Koreans blindly I
tell the story of one of Korea's children just as it was told to
me. Her name is Chai Nam Soon. If Nam Soon lived in Amer
ica she would be in high school, a sub-deb almost certainly
popular because even hardship and privation has not erased
the simple beauty in her face. Her story has come, tempo
rarily at least, to a happy ending. As for the more distant
future, no one can foretell.

205

Chapter 3

To UNDERSTAND the story of Nam Soon, one should be
gin sixty-five miles northwest of Seoul where the north
branch of the Han River breaks through the rugged
mountains south of the Hwachon reservoir to join the Soyang
River at Chunchon. The Pukhan, as it is called, is a tumul
tuous, rapid-filled stream above Chunchon. Steep, forested
mountains rise two and three thousand feet from its banks.
A narrow ribbon of road skirts the river, winding northward
across the neutral zone into Communist Korea.

For nearly ten years the deep valley of the Pukhan and
the road that twists through it have funneled a river of hu
manity into Chunchon. In the days of uneasy peace before
1950, tens of thousands of refugees moved down the valley,
openly at first, then secretly when North Korea's masters
tried vainly to stem the tide. Even in the dead of winter
when the mountain slopes were carpeted under three feet of
snow, the white-clad throng slipped through the mountain
passes at night, to cross or attempt to cross the 38th Parallel
that stretched six miles north of Chunchon.

In June of 1950 the traffic was very heavy, but the travelers
did not wear white. On June 25th Communist armies rolled
down the Pukhan Valley, and the military traffic never ceased
from that day until the last great Communist offensive of

206

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

when the Red armies crashed through for miles to pun
ish Syngman Rhee for blocking the truce.

The military traffic rolled both ways in the Pukhan Valley.
The city of Chunchon changed hands eight times in three
years, thereby losing all resemblance to the lovely mountain
town where I lived for a year. In time, fighting men of a half
dozen nationalities traveled the road north from Chunchon,
sometimes retreating, sometimes advancing.

It was the summer of 1951 that Chunchon changed hands
for the third time. United Nations armies were in headlong
retreat down the valley. Lost in the dust of roaring tanks and
trucks Chai Nam Soon, aged ten, and Chai Nam Rin, aged
ten months, were also moving down the valley.

The Chai family lived in North Korea, twenty-five miles
above the old s8th Parallel. Nam Soon's father died during
the spring of 1951. Two days before United NationsTines on
the central front broke, Nam Soon's mother also died. Thus
suddenly a ten-year-old girl was left alone, responsible for a
ten-month-old brother. What slight security a little Korean
mountain girl had, suddenly vanished. There were no rela
tives, no adults to provide guidance and comfort. Fear mount
ing to hysteria swept the village. The cluster of huts, once
vibrant with the simple life of the Korean mountains, became
dead, as men, women and children sought safety in retreat
to the south. Chai Nam Soon and Chai Nam Rin were sud
denly alone in that frightening time of quiet, which like the
eye of a hurricane, exists in the center of battle when one
army has retreated and the conquering army has not yet ar
rived. I have experienced that deceptive quiet that goes be
fore defeat, when the mutter of guns seems suddenly muted,
when the terror of the unknown clutches at heart and soul.
So it must have been with Chai Nam Soon, age ten, and alone
except for the burden of a baby, strapped Korean-fashion on
her back.

And so a little girl and a baby started down the dust-

207

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

churned road to the south. There were many jeeps and trucks
roaring down the road, and the children walked in the dust
of fleeing vehicles for ten miles, Chai Nam Soon is vague now
as to how long she walked. Four or perhaps five hours, she
thinks. Progress must have been slow, for she had Nam Rin
strapped to her back and carried also a little bundle all the
rice she could salvage from the family home and a few other
possessions.

Finally one of the jeeps stopped. The traffic had been thin
ning because Nam Soon was now on the edge of no man's
land. The defeated were ahead of her, the victors just behind
her. She looked at me with some embarrassment as she told
me: "At first I was scared when the jeep stopped. The Com
munists had told us how cruel and brutal American soldiers
killed Korean children. But there was a Korean interpreter in
the jeep. He told me it was all right."

Chai Nam Soon has no idea of the rank of the American
soldier who hustled her and Nam Rin into the jeep. He took
the children to a South Korean police station just north of
Chunchon. The police were very busy, fighting guerrillas and
fifth columnists, and after a day or so deposited Nam Soon
and Nam Rin in a Chunchon inn.

The children stayed at the inn for two weeks, using the rice
Nam Soon had salvaged to pay their board. But when the
rice gave out the manager of the inn took the children to a
crowded Korean government orphanage.

Chunchon was about to change hands again. The enemy
had advanced down the PuMian Valley and was massed just
outside the city. American soldiers entered the picture again.
An American army civil assistance team was attempting to
move all the hundreds of orphaned and lost children out of
the city before it fell. Chai Nam Soon and Chai Nam Rin
were taken out by truck and deposited in another crowded
orphanage, in Seoul.

208

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

During all these moves Nam Soon had her problems. Nam
Rin had never been weaned.

"All the time he was crying for milk/' she told me. Then
with a knowledge far beyond her years she explained. "All
the wet nurses were without milk because of starvation. So
I made soup for Nam Rin with the little rice I could get! 9
Then Nam Rin added the final straw by getting measles!

The city of Seoul was crowded with refugees including
hundreds of homeless children. There were few doctors, few
attendants to look after lost children; there was little food.
Chai Nam Soon bore all her responsibilities, nursed Nam Rin,
scrounged bits of food that a sick child might digest, mended
and patched his and her clothes.

Finally there came a day when the months of running, of
illness, of responsibility no little girl should have to bear,
ended. Nam Soon and Nam Rin were transferred from the
crowded government orphanage to the Nam Buk Orphanage
in Seoul's southern suburbs, just south of the bombed out
Han River bridge.

It was in the superintendent's office at Nam Buk that I met
and talked with Chai Nam Soon, now a self-possessed and
healthy girl of twelve. And little Nam Rin, now three going
on four years old, looks none the worse for wear except for
a few pockmarks caused by infected and untreated measles.

I met Chai Nam Soon purely by chance. The Christian
Herald magazine had asked me to visit and write a story
about the new Christian Herald Orphanage in Seoul. The
Nam Buk Home was selected for Christian Herald sponsor
ship. Its name plate had just been changed to read Christian
Herald Nam Buk Home. And although Nam Soon is still too
young to realize it, she and her brother had a rare stroke of
luck in being transferred to that home.

When I visited the home there were 194 children there.
A map in the superintendent's office shows the original home

209

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

of each child. They have come from the north and from the
south, from nearly all of Korea's provinces. It was for this
reason that the home was named "Nam Buk" which means
South-North. Most of the children are refugees like Nam
Soon, lost in retreats from North Korea.

The story of Nam Buk, of the loving care given the chil
dren there, is one of the bright spots in Korea. Children can
forget easily. In Nam Buk they have found tender, loving
care, a chance to be educated, vocational training, decent
shelter and nourishing food. For most of them the horrible
memories of war are receding.

Nam Buk began its existence in 1951. Hong Sung Yoo, the
superintendent, returned to Seoul after its last recapture. He
is a Christian and he was appalled by the hundreds of chil
dren roaming the streets. Without financial backing, without
help from anyone, he rounded up seventy waifs in Yungdung-
po, Seoul's southern industrial suburb. He took in sixty-five
more who arrived from Chunchon and could find no place in
the government homes. American GI's brought in others from
the front. From time to time the over-crowded government
homes simply dumped more children on Mr. Hong's door
step.

Hong got permission to use an abandoned and partly
bombed Japanese furniture factory. A man of some means,
he put his own money into making the factory livable. He
still takes no salary for his services. In this respect he is not
exceptional. I met numerous other Koreans who devote their
lives, without compensation, to helping Korean children find
a new life. Of course the British correspondent who com
plained that the Koreans will not help themselves knows
nothing about Mr. Hong and his Nam Buk home. It is off
the beaten track, reached by a rutted road, inconvenient to
get to. Why waste time seeking out these bits of light and
brightness when there is so much evil in Korea to write
about?

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

Hong Sung Yoo soon began to receive outside help. First
Francis Kinsler and Otto DeCamp of the Presbyterian Mis
sion brought money and clothes. The First Marine Division
was stationed nearby. The chaplain heard about Nam But,
and to the First Marine Division must go the credit for keep
ing Nam Buk going until the Christian Herald magazine came
along to firmly underwrite its future.

The old Japanese factory that has become Chai Nam Soon's
home is on an appropriate spot. Sixty years ago it was se
lected as the place of public execution for the Christians,
condemned to death during the viciously anti-Christian drive
of the Li dynasty. After all these years the hillside overlook
ing Seoul has become a place for Christian work among chil
dren.

Nam Buk will not be confined to the factory for long. Al
ready a lovely twelve-acre tract on the hill-top above the
factory has been optioned, four acres actually bought and
paid for. A two-story brick building, heavily pockmarked
with machine-gun fire but otherwise in good condition,
stands in the center of the tract. Vegetable gardens have al
ready been planted, workshops started. For Christian Herald
always includes vocational training and a maximum of self
help in its operations.

When the whole twelve-acre tract is acquired, there will
be land enough to feed the children. The furniture factory
and adjacent buildings will be maintained for vocational
training. Akeady the older boys are hard at work, repairing
and repainting war-damaged trucks and buses. Nine of the
older girls are sewing for their living, while others are pre
paring to be practical nurses. Nine older boys are studying
agriculture and are now supervising the Nam Buk fields.

Mr. Hong's plans cover the years ahead and include even
the small children like Chai Nam Bin. If his dreams come
true, more buildings will rise, more fields will go into rice
and potatoes. Meanwhile there will be schooling and reli-

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

gious instruction for the small children. When they become
old enough they will begin to learn a trade. In time each
child will graduate, will join the stream of Korean life in a
productive job.

Nam Buk is not the only progressive orphanage in Korea.
Twenty miles away, on the outskirts of Anyang, there is a
magnificent home managed by Dr. Oh, eighty-year-old dean
of Korean doctors. Dr. Oh has developed the first cottage
plan orphanage in eastern Asia. The children live in cottages
with a cottage mother. They too, work to feed themselves,
tiUing the extensive fields, gathering chestnuts to sell in Seoul,
learning trades.

Dr. Oh's home receives part of its support from one of the
finest and most efficient Christian agencies at work in this
war-troubled world. The "Christian Children's Fund" of Rich
mond, Virginia, with work scattered all over the world, is
helping Dr. Oh's children and hundreds of other children in
scores of homes throughout Korea. The efficiency of CCF is
in sharp contrast to the bungling efforts of the United Nations
in Korea. CCF experts are continually in the field, guiding,
checking, seeing that minimum standards are maintained,
seeking money for new homes, locating children that need
care. I could not but reflect upon this fact: The American
responsible for supervising all the activities of CCF in Korea
receives a salary of less than $2400 a year. He travels all
through the land, by jeep and truck, on crowded Korean
trains, stopping at whatever inn he can find at the end of the
day's journey. The typical United Nations expert receives a
salary of between $7,000 and $10,000 a year, lives in swank
comfort in Seoul or Pusan, and if he travels at all it is by UN
train or U.S. army plane.

Chai Nam Soon and her little brother are well taken care
of, will enjoy a measure of security. Their ordeal has ended
in comparative happiness. But as I talked to her I could not
but wonder why we Americans with all our wealth and effi-

,212

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

ciency could not see that all the waifs left in the wake of our
wars were sheltered and fed.

We correspondents who have covered the Far East during
the past decade have seen human misery at its worst: the
wartime bombing of Chinese cities; the stream of refugees
fleeing Seoul in the dark summer of 1950, But nowhere have
I seen such concentrated misery as among the lost children
of Korea. It is bad in Seoul, but it is even worse in Pusan, in
the other cities behind the front. No one has ever taken a
census of the waifs caught there in the backwash of war.

Last year in Pusan, in one fifteen-minute walk I counted
fourteen children, some as old as my own thirteen-year-old
John, Jr., others as young as four-year-old David, lying half
naked, desperately ill, uncared for on the sidewalk. There
is no one in Pusan to take them in, no hospital with enough
beds or big enough budget.

For each of the ill, there are scores and hundreds who have
somehow existed, selling newspapers, shining shoes, stealing,
crawling into some deserted warehouse to spend the night.
The children have to eat. Without help and guidance, they
steal and pilfer, for they are human beings, with human
stomachs and hunger.

There are scores of orphanages in Korea, including the
largest in the world and the worst in the world. In all the
land there are perhaps fifty that even approach minimum
standards. But there are some 75,000 children for whom as
yet there is no place, no home, good or bad.

The story of Chai Nam Soon is one of victory, courage and
faith with a happy ending. But again I wonder why cannot
the United States or the United Nations, able to spend bil
lions of dollars killing the parents of the waifs, spend the
tiny fraction of that amount needed to shelter and clothe and
feed the homeless children? What magnificent propaganda
it would be if we could say to the world: "See, we fought for
and devastated Korea. But we have also taken care of the

213

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

needy and the homeless that resulted from the fighting. We
cannot only stop aggression. We can and will help those who
are willing to fight back. As we were willing to spend billions
to stop the enemy, we are also willing to spend to rebuild/'

Of course the United States has said words to that effect,
usually shrouded in diplomatic double talk and combined
with a threat: "But you will have to be good and not start
any trouble. None of this business of making us keep our
promises about uniting your country!" Meanwhile, 75,000
homeless children wander through the land, the maimed and
the halt crowd the streets; cities and villages remain deva
stated.

And what of the real future that lies ahead for Chai Nam
Soon? How long can half-a~nation exist? As Nam Soon and
the others who now live in happiness and hope grow older,
can understand what has happened to their country, will they
remain hopeful and happy? Will there always be an enemy
army twenty-five miles away, a sterile neutral zone cutting
squarely through the land? What dreams of the future can
Nam Soon have when she is old enough to understand?

214

Chapter 4

K)REA is filled with men and women who dream. Many
have accepted the conditions that produce heroines
like Chai Nam Soon, but in their acceptance see only
bitterness and hopelessness. There are some who dream of
better days, who have plans for their country just as Tommy
Hsu has plans for his land. But there are more whose dreams
have become nightmares.

One afternoon I sat in a tea house near Pusan's lovely har
bor, talking to an old friend I had not seen since the day in
June, 1950, when the Korean world fell apart. He is a well
educated man, has studied in America; but he finds no place
in Korea where his training can be used. He is able to make
a living for himself, his mother and his sister. They have a
home of sorts, in a building housing thirty other people.

I call him Mr. Pak, which is not his name. He is young
still, but by Korean custom should have married long ago.
But he has no dreams to dream, no desire to share his noth
ingness with another, no desire to bring children into his bit
ter world. He sees no possible solution to his country's prob
lems, no good in his government, nothing but the worst in
Korea's leadership. As we sat in the crowded tea room Mr.
Pak spoke his bitterness loudly so that others about us could
hear.

215

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

"President Rhee is a dictator, just as bad as any Commu
nist dictator," Mr. Pak told me. "It is laughable to talk about
democracy here. This is a police state, with no freedom. Why
look at the corruption, look at the black market!"

There was a pause after this outburst. Then I asked my
young Korean friend a question.

"Mr. Pak, what you say may be true. But how long would
you last in a Communist state if you talked as you have here,
with such bitterness and so loudly that dozens in this room
could hear?"

Mr. Pak look rather startled. He said nothing for a long
moment, and then replied with honesty.

"I guess Td last about three minutes."

I have seen him again, this disillusioned young Korean, in
the city of Seoul. And in the past year I have received numer
ous letters from him. Always the bitterness is there, always
the complaint that his talents are wasted, that living is hard.
"There is no place for me in Korea," he wrote a few months
ago.

Mr. Pak lost one good job because he was declared a se
curity risk. He has not been arrested or bothered in any way.
But he lost a job because his bitterness and criticisms were
well known.

Young Mr. Pak proudly calls himself a neutralist now. He
told me once that the only hope of small countries and peo
ple like himself was to stay clear of the struggle between
the Free and Communist worlds. There are many like him,
men and women who choose to sit out the battle. They are,
of course, security risks. Mr. Pak has brought many of his
troubles upon himself.

In Seoul one day I visited an old friend, a woman in her
forties. She is foreign educated, a member of one of Korea's
distinguished revolutionary families that fought the Japanese
for decades. I went to her home in the once fashionable Gold

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

Coast district of Seoul, my visit arranged in advance by tele
phone.

But when I knocked on the gate there was no answer. I
knocked long and loud; I even shouted until finally an up
stairs window opened. Someone peeked out and called down
th^t the gate would be opened.

After I had greeted my old friend, I chided her upon her
slowness in admitting visitors. This is the story she told me,
a story I later verified from other sources.

A few weeks earlier a group of North Korean women spies
had crossed the neutral zone. Five had been apprehended,
several having moved as far south as Taegu. Each agent car
ried a list of prominent South Korean women leaders' names.
The list was more than a blacklist. It was an assassination list.
My friend's name was on that list of twenty women to be
liquidated.

She is not a coward. When Seoul was captured in 1950 she
stayed on, hiding under the floor of her house for days, living
in daily risk of capture, often going without food and water.

Has the truce brought peace to her home? Has Panmunjom
meant that she can now begin an orderly, constructive life
again?

No, the deadly seriousness of her situation makes it neces
sary that her gate be locked except to known visitors. She
can take no chances. The gate is not opened until she or a
servant first looks out an upstairs window to identify callers.

Panmunjom has brought no more peace to my friend than
it has to Mr. Pak. But her feelings about dictatorship and
police differ from Mr. PaFs bitter denunciation. As an added
measure of protection, she has a buzzer system connecting
with a Korean police station two blocks away. If unwelcome
callers come in the night, she can signal the police from her
bedroom; help will be immediately forthcoming.

Here and there in Korea there are also men who have

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

bright dreams o the future, even as Tommy Hsu dreams of
a Free China's future. Consider the story of Walter Jhung,
an American citizen of Korean ancestry, willing to give up
the security of that precious citizenship and life in Honolulu
to return to his ancestral home and work for his people.

Walter Jhung is among the several young men who hold
top positions in the Korean government, and he has made
some sort of record in that he has held his position for
nearly four years. In the ever changing ROK government
structure that is unusual. Walter Jhung is special assistant to
the prime minister, with offices in the only completely whole
building remaining on Seoul's once beautiful capitol grounds.

I was especially interested in Jhung because he is a grad
uate of Vanderbilt University, my school. He lived in Nash
ville for several years. I asked him if he planned to return to
America.

"No," he answered. "At least not for a long time and then
only to visit. There is so much to do here. Every day there is
a new crisis, a new problem to solve."

And then Walter Jhung told me of his many duties, of his
hopes and dreams for a future Korea. One small project, car
ried by his initiative, consisted of building up a library of
books on Korea, the Far East and foreign affairs. Few such
books get to Korea* Strongly anti-Communist books or those
favorable to Korea do not even reach the State Department's
library in Seoul. Jhung feels that cabinet ministers and other
high government officials should read everything they can
get their hands on. The books are loaned out to officials. A
card index includes notations on books not available and
needed, Walter Jhung pays for the books out of his own
pocket.

But it was Walter Jhung's dreams that interested me most
He does not plan to stay on in Korean government work. Al
ready he has had many lucrative offers to enter private busi-

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

ness, but as long as he is in President Rhee's service lie will
not even take on advisory posts.

Walter Jhung dreams of a day when there will be Ameri
can tourists coming to Korea. As an American citizen he is
keenly aware of the criticism voiced by many American sol
diers, the general dislike expressed by Americans for Korea
and Koreans.

"Over a million Americans have been in Korea," he told
me, "and most of them left disliking the land and the people.
I can't blame them, for the days they spent here were not
very pleasant. But I think they will forget their bitterness
after a while and many will want to come back, to show their
families the hills over which they fought. If they can see us
as we really are, in a time of peace, if they can visit us in
comfortable circumstances they will become our friends."

And so Walter Jhung is collecting every bit of information
possible on the tourist business. He plans to establish a tourist
and travel bureau, says that he has already talked at length
with President Rhee about building modern hotels near Ko
rea's scenic and historic spots.

There is a practical side to this dream of Walter Jhung,
thought it may be years before it can materialize. Korea is
a land of real beauty, of magnificent mountains and lovely
beaches, of temples, monasteries and ancient capital cities.
The tourist dollar can be important in the Korean economy.
Tourists might also revive the ancient and lovely Korean
handicrafts industry, offering income to people who are bet
ter suited to such work than for labor in a great factory.

Walter Jhung is one of the most optimistic men I have met
in Korea. His intelligent face fairly flashes as he talks of his
plans, his hopes. He has limitless faith in his boss, President
Syngman Rhee. Walter Jhung has a vision for the land of his
ancestors.

According to a news story in an American magazine, Con-

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

gressman Charles Brownson, Republican of Indiana, has
made a study of Korean reconstruction plans and has heard
of Walter Jhung's dreams. The congressman is reported to
have been critical of such foolishness, of plans to build hotels,
to lure tourists. Perhaps it is not time to build hotels, new
highways. But neither is it time to discourage dreamers. Ko
rea needs men like Walter Jhung and his boss, men who have
the courage to look beyond the ruins, who can see and plan
for bright days ahead.

Mr. Ro Chang Kah is a middle-aged Korean with teen-age
children. He is a man of means, loving children and devoting
his time and money to the orphans of his country. Mr. Ro is
cheerful; with the children he is tender. I watched him in a
half dozen orphanages. One evening as we ate Korean kim-
chi together in an orphanage that sits on the side of Seoul's
South Mountain Mr. Ro spoke of his dreams. Behind the
cheerfulness, the tenderness and love for children, Mr. Ro
kept carefully concealed his own dark dreams.

"For us for my wife and me there is no hope," he told
me. "My children might be able to carry on because they are
going to America and may escape/'

I asked Mr. Ro why he felt so hopeless, and his answer was
one that I got more and more often as I traveled elsewhere in
Asia.

"The only hope against Communism is force, backed by
your Atom and H bombs. The bombs must be used the next
time the other side makes a move anywhere. But I know you
Americans well enough to know this will not be done. So in
five years it will be all over here in Korea. My wife and I
will die here, probably in a Communist prison."

It was strange to find this quiet, dedicated man, pinning
his slender hopes on America's atomic might and sure that
that might will never be used to save him. I found many
others like him in Korea, even in Japan, in Formosa. What

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

hopes they may have lie in the Atom bomb. Their hopes belie
the many American correspondents who write that Asiatics
distrust us because we have used the bomb in the past. Rob
ert Sherrod, writing in the Saturday Evening Post, in 1953,
stated: "But throughout the Far East the atomic bomb was
considered immoral, in-humane and un-American; it made
us suspect, and a lot of our postwar troubles out here stem
from the decision to drop it."

Whenever I read words like those, I know that the man
who writes is not a good reporter, that these sentiments are
not shared by the great mass of people in Asia. Those who
know what Communism is know also that force may be the
only answer; the Mr. Ro's of Asia know too that there is noth
ing more brutal than, let us say, death by napalm bombing.
Mr. Sherrod's deep words must be especially interesting to
my Mr. Ro with his widespread work among the orphanages
of Korea. One of the homes he helps to supervise will be
known for many years in Korea because of the fact that 152
of its inmates were killed in one burning moment, not by
atom bombs but by napalm bombs, dropped from American
planes attacking a Communist position nearby. Mr. Ro is re
alistic; he knows death is permanent and often painful; he
knows too that his hopes and dreams may depend upon the
use of the weapon which Mr. Sherrod claims is immoral. Mr.
Sherrod and the Saturday Evening Post do not speak for the
people of Asia; especially do they not speak for those who
have experienced the living death of Communism.

I met a Korean girl who had that experience. I do not know
her name and never shall. It was a bright September day that
I met her as I was driving through the streets with Mrs. Sue
Adams, grand old lady of the Presbyterian Mission. We no
ticed a young Korean woman lying in the gutter on the main
street of Seoul just beyond the railroad station. I noticed her
especially because beauty could still be seen beneath the dirt,

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

under the rags. We passed her by, our attention diverted by
the crowd gathered around the bloody body o a Korean high
school boy, just killed by an army truck,

We drove on to the Eighth Army's new headquarters com
pound, for a tour of the new officers' area at old Camp So-
bingo. Mrs. Adams had been quiet for some minutes when
she spoke to me.

"John/' she said, "I won't be able to sleep tonight unless
we go back and help that young woman. She may be a street
walker, but she is ill and needs help/'

I did not relish the attention we would cause, foreigners
in an American station wagon, stopping to talk to a woman
in the gutter.

The young woman was where we had seen her, thirty
minutes earlier, but now squatted on the curb, head in hands.

Mrs. Adams addressed her, in Korean fashion. "A-gi-moni
(Auntie), you seem to be ill. There is a hospital nearby. We
can take you there. Or if you are in need, we will take you
to the welfare department where you will receive help/'

The woman, perhaps twenty-five, perhaps thirty years old,
looked up in amazement that she had been noticed, and by
foreigners. She spoke dully, almost as hypnotized and pointed
to her feet.

"Yes," she said. <C I need help. But I have only one shoe. I
cannot go to city hall with one shoe!"

"But the welfare people will help you/' replied Mrs. Adams,
"even if you have no shoes! Come, we will ride in our car,
and I will see that you shall receive the help you need/'

The young woman got into the back seat of the station
wagon, still talking of the impropriety of going to city hall
with one shoe off. We had driven by Seoul's ancient South
Gate when a strange thing happened. The young woman be
gan to chant; in a kneeling position she chanted in perfect
Korean high talk, and even with my limited Korean I caught

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

the meaning of the words: Our Father which art in heaven>
Hallowed be thy name . . . Thy will be done . . .

On and on she went, with the Lord's prayer, her voice ris
ing almost into a scream as we approached city hall. This was
no ordinary street walker we had behind us. She spoke as
educated Koreans speak, with a slight accent from the Cholla
provinces. She was, or had been, a Christian.

I will never know what experience this once beautiful
woman had gone through. For as we climbed the steps to
city hall she became hysterical. As we entered Seoul city wel
fare offices her mind broke. Now the lost shoe was forgotten,
the words she spoke were not in supplication. She screamed
in terror, she begged not to be beaten again, she implored
Mrs. Adams not to leave her. She could not give her name,
her age. From her lips came only shrill cries and animal
moans, the sounds of a mind that has broken, of a soul tor
tured by nightmare dreams.

The woman who lost her shoe is a part of the Korean story,
as is that of a ten-year-old girl heroine, of Walter Jhung and
his dreams, Mr. Pak and his bitterness, the woman in Seoul
who is afraid to open her door, yet who still has faith in her
country and its leadership.

And what of the Americans in Korea, of whom there are a
good number, even today? Wherever Americans are gathered
there are dreamers, and most of the dreams are happy ones
like Walter Jhung s. All along the front lines, in the supply
areas far to the rear, American boys dream of going home,
greet each announcement of a new division to be withdrawn
with enthusiasm. I shared some of these American dreams,
sat in on the bull sessions where each man told of his plans
for the future. There were a few who planned to stay in the
army, but most had big plans: college education for some,
jobs and marriage for others. Take Corporal Charles Gar-

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

diner, handsome 24-year-old from Roanoke, Alabama. Born
in the western cattle country, Chuck has big plans for raising
white-faced cattle in Alabama. His wife had already made a
down payment on a big acreage. Chuck's plans are big and
heady. When the Alabama place gets going, hell buy a big
spread out West somewhere.

There is no limit to Corporal Gardiner's plans; yet the
chances are that his dreams will come true. For him and for
his buddies there is security, a rich and prosperous homeland
to which to go home. America has been made great by dream
ers, and the field is still wide open. But what a contrast be
tween the future of the Chuck Gardiners and that of the little
people of Free China and Korea. For many there is no home
to go back to. Devastation and poverty and insecurity are the
lot of all. It affects the thinking and the dreaming of young
and old. For many like the woman who lost her shoe, life
has become a nightmare.

224

Chapter 5

f | ^HEEE were one hundred and eighty "war" correspond-
ents accredited to the United Nations Command in
JL Seoul during August, 1953. There were Americans, Brit
ish, Koreans, Japanese, Belgians, Swiss, Swedes, Chinese and
Canadians. There were a few good correspondents, some very
bad ones, many inexperienced men. But whether good or bad,
for most of the men, the story to be written was found at
Freedom Village and at Panmunjom. The road north, Route
One, the army calls it, that leads from Seoul to Munsan and
on across the Imjin River to Panmunjom was heavily traveled
each day. Occasionally correspondents strayed off this beaten
path to cover a story elsewhere. But for most writers, Korea
was Seoul and Munsan; for the great majority other place
names in Korea meant little. For the land has become name
less except in terms of "outpost" numbers, map coordinates
and "K" numbers, designating the airfields in South Korea.
K-i6 is Seoul, K-g is Pusan and K-2 is Taegu. I flew with
pilots and with correspondents who did not know the names
of the teeming cities we visited. One day, crossing the rail
road bridge that spans the Imjin River on the road to Pan
munjom an army colonel, who had served on the United
Nations truce team for months, asked in complete serious
ness: "This is the Yalu River, isn't it?'*

225

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

There are men who see that Korea has more than highways
and airfields, who are hurt with the hurt that has come to
the land. There are men like Dick Erman, young American
correspondent for Reuters News Agency, who is supporting
an orphanage on his own, who plans now to build a model
village near Pusan. There are a few others who have dug
deep into the history and the culture of the land, for only
by knowing of Korea's past, only by understanding the strug
gle of today can one judge the actions of President Syngman
Rhee.

Statistics tell a little of the story. Six hundred thousand
homes destroyed; coal production down 50 per cent; property
damage between $1 billion and $3 billion in a nation whose
gross national product is $1.4 billions; on September 15th,
1953, in Seoul alone, 356,000 people on relief; in Kyonggi
province, with a population of two million, 940,000 on relief,
and of these 250,000 considered destitute cases. Statistics de
termine the nature of a ruler's actions. But even more impor
tant than figures, are the faces, the souls that lie behind the
figures. Human beings, too, determine policy and procedures,
the goodness or the badness of a national administration.

During August and September, of 1953, I took the well
traveled road from Seoul to Freedom Village; I flew along
the central front; I visited Pusan and came back to Seoul on
the blacked-out United Nations express; I traveled twelve
hundred miles by plane, train, jeep and boat; and I tried to
get the feel of Korea today, to jot in my notebook facts, fig
ures, statements, impressions that would help me understand
the problems and the actions of a people and its leaders.

One day I toured the central front in a light army plane*
We flew near such historic spots as Old Baldy and T-Bone
Ridge; we circled the valley down which the Chinese pushed
for five miles just before the truce was signed, down which
Chai Nam Soon traveled in 1951. One gains a tremendous
respect for the American army after such a tour. The central

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

front is much like our own Great Smokies, except that there

are more mountains, and the mountains are more rugged.

oo

All along this mountain front there are vast military encamp
ments, trench and bunker systems and roads where no roads
have ever been in Korean history. I flew, not in an air force
plane, but in one of the many light planes flown by the air
men of the army. These are the men who are spotters for
artillery, who act as couriers carrying messages into remote
mountain airstrips. These strips cover the land today, and
how the pilots get into them is something I cannot under
stand. We landed on a strip near the Hwachon Reservoir. On
one side was a 5,ooo-foot mountain mass. The strip lay at the
bottom of a deep valley, making it necessary to circle cork*
screw fashion until the five-seater Beaver plane was low
enough to make an approach. In the process it seemed to me
that the wing tips would scrape the mountain sides. After
many stops along the front, my pilot dropped me in Chun-
chon so that I could visit the city where my wife Elsie and
I had worked for nearly a year back in '48.

This was the city from which Chai Nam Soon and her baby
brother had fled. You remember that it had already changed
hands eight different times. After each battle a little more of
the city was devastated. Ninety per cent of the downtown
section is gone now. I walked the streets for an hour visiting
places where old and dear friends once lived. I could not find
a person I had known before. As I walked through the ruins
I felt also the spiritual destruction that has come to these
people. There seemed to be few smiles on the faces of those
who now live in jerrybuilt shacks, or are camping out among
the ruins.

Perhaps I am wrong, but I felt a certain anti- American
feeling in the air. These are largely illiterate mountain peo
ple, and it must be difficult for many of them to understand
why their city had to take so much punishment, why a great
airfield with thousands of aliens must be in their town. Worst

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

of all is the little these men and women of the Korean moun
tains have to hope for in the future. Their homes shattered,
life made difficult by the world's highest inflation, they live
on one of the main invasion routes to the south. The few who
talked to me believe that Chunchon will sometime experi
ence its ninth battle.

Elsie and I supervised the first elections in Chunchon in
1948. We were proud the Koreans with whom we worked
were proud when we had the highest percentage of votes
among all South Korean provinces. Ninety-six per cent of
our people registered; 91 per cent voted. The majority of our
friends were for the Syngman Rhee candidates back then. I
wondered if there was any change after all that has hap
pened in the five years since we left. I got my answer from
one of the Christian leaders in the city. When I asked him
about Syngman Rhee, he told me: "It is not so much a mat
ter of being loyal to our president as it is a matter of being
all united for one common ideal and idea of saving our coun
try from extinction."

The majority of Koreans feel as the man in Chunchon felt;
they are behind their president; they understand the tremen
dous difficulties he faces. They feel that only forthright out
spoken leadership will save the land from extinction.

The task of postwar leadership in Korea has been made
difficult by the necessity of working with large and cumber
some United Nations organizations. And when we add the
realization on the part of Korea's leaders and its educated
people that the nation can never really exist as half a nation,
we can understand a little of what appears sometimes to be
stubborness and intransigence.

"Never have so many foreigners, connected with so many
agencies been involved in rebuilding so small a nation," was
the comment of one Korean when we talked of progress in
reconstruction*

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

The United States Army is involved in many phases of re
construction. Harold Stassen's Foreign Operations Adminis
tration has millions of dollars to spend. The United Nations
Rehabilitation Administration, known as UNKRA entered the
field nearly three years ago with its millions. There are men
and women of a dozen nationalities running about the land,
each with a plan, a panacea. Plans made by other American
agencies four or five years ago, and just as useful and valid
today as then, are either unknown or scrapped. Robert Na
than Associates, headed by an erstwhile bright young New
Deal economist, sent a team of experts to Korea. The cost
was $50,000 for an off-the-cuff survey. It was made against
the recommendations of Syngman Rhee's government; it cov
ered territory already covered by a dozen other surveys. The
bright young men of Robert Nathan Associates had never
been to Korea before; doubtless will never return. But being
bright and being economists, it was of course not necessary
that they know anything about Korea, its past or present.

The money spent on short term "experts/' whether they be
working for the United Nations or an agency of the United
States Government, is a disgrace and a waste of funds. Gen
eral Mark Clark in his memoirs From the Danube to the Jalu
comments on those that afflicted him:

*. . . and many came from Washington as governmental
experts to make quick surveys to determine what economic
and financial aid was necessary to rebuild South Korea.

"Most of these men were rushed out from Washington
to make their studies and fix things up. I always felt . . .
my headquarters included American civilian economists and
financial experts who were just as capable as these specialists
hurried from home as trouble shooters . . . these "resident*
economists had the advantage of familiarity with the people,
issues and the problems. They did not have to make a pre
liminary survey. . . *"

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

The United Nations hired a man to go to Korea and make
a public relations film. Pat Frank is his name, a bright and
witty American writer, author of Mr. Adam, with no knowl
edge of the Far East. I do not know Mr. Frank's feelings
about Syngman Rhee and Korea, but I do know that he is
one of the nastiest and bitterest critics of President Rhee's
ally, Chiang Kai Shek. It was not long ago that Mr. Frank
penned these lines: "All the American help and all the Ameri
can money will not put Chiang Kai Shek together again/'

It is rumored that Mr. Frank was paid $25,000 to direct
the making of a motion picture on Korea. It was UNKRA
money, but it was also our money; for the United States puts
up most of the funds to operate the United Nation's agencies
in Korea. I have never seen Mr. Frank's production, nor have
I ever met anyone who has seen it.

Consider these further facts about the United Nation's re
lief effort in Korea. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars
has been spent on public relations equipment: cameras, film
projectors, motion picture cameras. The average salary of a
UN expert in Korea is $7,000. In addition, each employee
receives free a trip to his homeland each year, with trans
portation paid both ways. And since Korea is a hardship post,
each foreign employee also receives three free "R. and R."
(Rest and Relaxation) trips to Japan each year. Altogether,
the UN expert is on the job perhaps ten months of the year,
for the rest of the time is spent in going to and from the flesh
pots of Japan, or to and from home which may be in Den
mark, or America or England.

There are good men and women in UNKRA, of course,
men like Dr. Lopez, who are doing an excellent job. But
among its more than three hundred experts there are also
the dregs of other international efforts, the international teat-
suckers who will hang on to UNKRA for a while, then shift
on to other pastures.

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

When UNKRA was established it had offices in New York,
Tokyo, Pusan and Geneva. It has improved after doing little
for two years. Its administration has been tightened, some
of the unqualified personnel have been removed. But now
UNKRA is faced with a new problem. The members of the
United Nations who had pledged aid now refuse to pay their
pledges. UNKRA is actually forced to send representatives
knocking on the doors of Europe's chancelleries, begging Eu
ropean governments to pay what they pledged two years ago
to contribute to Korea's recovery.

Is it surprising that Korea's leaders are difficult, that men
and women lose hope completely?

There is supposed to be coordination now, among all the
agencies at work in Korea. A planning board has been es
tablished; all activities must be approved by it, channeled
through it. And under the direction of Mr. Tyler Wood, di
rector of the Foreign Operations Administration in Korea,
there has been solid progress.

Yet the reconstruction of a nation over which we bled,
where we have a golden opportunity to show that America
cannot only destroy but can also efficiently rebuild, is han
dled in an amazingly off-hand manner,

An American engineering friend of mine who served in
Korea before the war went back recently to bid upon a U.S.
army contract to rehabilitate Korea's electric power industry.
My engineer friend knew Korea's power system, its needs,
had visited every power plant in the land.

He was amazed upon reading the army specifications to
find that inferior Japanese power equipment was required,
that equipment unsuited to certain installations was listed.

"I told the army officer in charge," the engineer related to
me, "that the equipment was not right, that most of it would
not last two years, that then the whole job would have to be
done over again. The army officer told me brusquely that it

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

was not my responsibility to comment on the specifications.
I could bid for my firm or I could go home."

My friend filed a report, but it was ignored. The Koreans
are having their power system rebuilt. There will be break
downs soon, of course, and in a couple of years the whole
job will have to be done over again. But by that time the
officers in charge will be far removed; they will never be held
responsible for their part in the business.

It is unfair to blame the army. Officers are assigned, willy-
nilly, to reconstruction projects. The men are waiting for that
day when they will leave Korea, will be able either to rejoin
families or go into civilian life. Can they be expected to have
too much interest in reconstructing a benighted land they
dislike?

At last report the American army was in charge of one of
the most vital phases of agricultural reconstruction in Korea.
The U. S. Army distributes fertilizer to Korean farmers. Here
is a job where real experts are needed, men like Ralph Glea-
son of Formosa who fathered the Taichung night-soil disposal
plant. But instead, army officers, counting the days until ro
tation, knowing nothing about the needs of the land, are in
the saddle.

Is it indeed any wonder that President Rhee proves diffi
cult at times? Is it any wonder that men like Mr. Pak are
calling themselves "neutralists?" In Korea the Free World
had, and still has, a magnificent opportunity to show that it
can rebuild just as it can devastate. It is an opportunity not
yet seized upon, to date hopelessly bungled. It will be a dif
ficult task at best, and Americans might as well realize that
it must go on and on for years.

South Korea is but half a nation. It does not have the natu
ral resources with which to compensate for those lost to the
Communists in the area north of the truce line. A half billion
dollars will be required, year after year, to rebuild and to

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

attempt to compensate for resources and industries lost to
North Korea. This is one of the by-products of a foolish truce,
a cost saddled upon us because we were not willing to win.

But perhaps it can be done, perhaps South Korea can be
come a tremendous psychological weapon in Asia, a clear
indication that America will help rebuild what has been
destroyed in an effort to halt aggression. But if it is to be
successfully done, it should be done by the United States
alone. It will be far more to American interests to have the
United Nations step out, to allow us to do the job and take
the creditif there be credit. For to date the United Nations
has not shown much more ability to work efficiently in al
leviating human misery and suffering than it has in winning
wars or in solving political problems.

It is a tragic situation. The Republic of Korea came into
existence under UN supervision. The first elections in 1948
were held under UN sponsorship. Then and through the early
days of fighting, the UN flag flew from school houses and
public buildings. The United Nations was a respected organ
ization, the only hope for a small and weak nation.

But Koreans understand that their land is still divided be
cause some members of the United Nations would not risk
a fight to victory. They know that certain members of the
United Nations have refused to live up to their pledges to un
derwrite Korea's reconstruction. They know that the United
Nations truce team is powerless to stop the truce violations.
Lieutenant No Kum Sok, the Communist jet pilot who flew
his MIG to freedom (thereby receiving Mark Clark's $ioo r
ooo reward) stated: '1 saw the Reds break the Korean truce
the day after it was signed/*

Koreans, educated and uneducated, see their nation be
coming a United Nations pawn. It is little wonder that they
are unhappy and bewildered, that Korean leadership has be
come touchy and hard to work with. They fight back against

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

what they consider to be unjust and unwise decisions with
the pitifully few weapons they have: hot-headed pronounce
ments by President Ehee and other high officials, mass dem
onstrations against withdrawal of American troops, against
use of Japanese products in the reconstruction program. The
Land of Morning Calm has become a land of misery and
chaos, a nation unable to help itself because it has no voice
in any major decision affecting its future.

Chapter 6

THE American GI cannot wait until time to go home.
Few can be found who have any use for Korea or the
Koreans. However, all over the land are monuments to
American soldier generosity. The story of the good things
done by American soldiers in Korea is a bright story, one that
could have great value in the propaganda phase of the Cold
War.

Soldiering far from home does not bring out the best in
men, whether they be American, British or Chinese. The
American soldier abroad is no angel; his conduct is better
than that of some other soldiers, sometimes worse than that
of other nationalities. In Korea, the American GI has been
involved in black markets, just as he has in Japan and in
Germany. Some soldiers have become dope addicts prob
ably more in Korea than in any other country where Ameri
cans have been stationed. There is at present a widespread
dope smuggling ring in Korea and Japan, a ring designed not
only to snare Americans in the habit but also to get dope into
America.

In Okinawa Americans are involved in a vicious prostitu
tion business. Young girls barely in their teens are brought
into Okinawa from the small outlying islands, there to serv
ice the thousands of GTs on that crowded island.

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

Though I have first-hand information to convince me of
the truth of the above-mentioned accusations, I believe that
the American soldier in the Far East has been accused un
justly of other things. For instance, two years ago a maga
zine of national circulation announced that in Japan alone
there were 200,000 illegitimate GI babies; yet a recent care
ful census by the Japanese government reveals that there are
only 4,000.

The conduct of the American fighting man, good or bad, is
of importance. The Communists fear American prestige and
American intervention in Asia more than anything else. Since
1945, the Red propaganda machine has been attempting to
turn the Asian people against America by depicting the Amer
ican soldier as a brutal and corrupt monster. The campaign
against the American fighting man began in China in 1946
and has continued unabated since. Its culmination has been
in the germ warfare charges of 1953 and 1954,

Obviously then the conduct of Americans is important. Any
wrongdoing is grist for the Communist mill. At the same
time, if the American soldier leaves good works behind him,
these can be invaluable in counteracting the Red barrage
against the GI. And with all his faults, the American fighting
man does do great good, does make friends by his big-heart-
edness, has left a trail of decent acts wherever he has been
stationed.

Driving through the city of Suwon one day, I noticed a
sign reading "Children's Nutritional Center/' I investigated
and found that the center, established to feed the hundreds
of waifs that wander Suwon's streets, was made possible by
the gift of $8,000 from the men of a nearby engineering serv
ice battalion. On that same day I visited Suwon's hospital,
one of the four that exist in the province of Kyonggi. The
hospital had been hard hit by artillery but was being rebuilt;
most of it was already rehabilitated. Five thousand dollars
from the American flyers at the nearby air base had made the

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

rebuilding possible. In the month that I spent in Korea a
year ago these American soldier activities came to my atten
tion: during Christmas of 1953 the soldiers of the Eighth
Army contributed $596,117 and over 9,000,000 pounds of
parcel post packages received from friends and relatives in
America. During that same Christmas period, 181,000 Korean
children were given Christmas parties by American GI's,

The men of the 45th Division gave one check for $41,000
to establish a trust fund for the maintenance of the orphans*
home on Cheju Island. During the three years it was in Ko
rea, this division donated $300,000 to Korean charities.

Soldiers of the 32nd Infantry Regiment contributed $3,500
for the rebuilding of schools in their sector. During one pe
riod, men of the First Corps raised $25,000 for similar pur
poses.

The men of the Fifth Regimental Combat Team collected
$18,000 to establish a "Boys' Town" on an island in the Han
River near Seoul. Soldiers of the Eighth Army collected
$5,000 for the family of Reverend Pang Wha-Ill, who died
as a result of a beating by an American officer and three
soldiers.

According to Eighth Army officials, known donations of
American soldiers through April of 1954, totaled $582,992;
from men of the First Corps, $561,000; $436,000 from the
Ninth Corps, and $115,071 from the Tenth Corps. And added
to this there are thousands of unknown and unrecorded do
nations and acts of mercy.

Bill Shaw, veteran Methodist missionary, told me that a
week never passes that a chaplain or an officer or a soldier
does not bring him money.

"Sometimes it may be only ten dollars/ 3 Dr. Shaw said.
"Sometimes it may be a hundred dollars or even a thousand.
Sometimes it is for a specific project; sometimes they tell me
to use the money any way I think best."

So it has gone for four years Boys* Town, new schools and

237

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

churches, orphanages and hospitals, a tremendous outflowing
of money and help from the very men who hate Korea, who
cannot wait until the day when they can shake the last of
Korea's dirt from their shoes. So it is also in Japan, in Oki
nawa, in Formosa, in the Philippines, wherever American
soldiers are stationed.

There is one example of American generosity in Korea,
which if known and properly exploited in propaganda, could
erase any and all impact the germ warfare charges might
have had upon the people of Asia. It is a story that had its
beginning in the compassion of an American general and
that has come to full fruition because of the generosity of
thousands of American GTs combined with the skill and fa
cilities of American missionaries.

One day a Korean child on the central front stepped upon
a mine, losing his arms. General Paul Kendall, commanding
general of the First Corps, known more simply as TT Corps,
heard of the child and determined to help him. General Ken
dall knew that there were hundreds of similar cases, children
and adults. He asked his commanders from division down
through regiment to raise funds for the development of facili
ties to care for child amputees. I have not talked to the gen
eral and do not know if he thought in terms of that one child
or of all the children.

But his request touched off an amazing sequence of events.
Within a few days a total of $75,000 had been raised from
men of "I" Corps. The generosity of foreign troops touched
the hearts of Korean fighting men. The men of the loist Di
vision of the Korean Service Corps contributed $3,136. Other
donations poured in from the Korean First Corps Security
Police, from Korean civilian workers at "F Corps headquar
ters, even from the workers of the Kangwon bus line which
served cities behind the central front.

The money raised by "I" Corps, totaling nearly $100,000,
was placed in trust in a New York bank. On December 17,

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

1952, the *T Corps Korean Children's Amputee Clinic was
established at bomb-scarred Severance Hospital in Seoul.

I visited Severance Hospital to look over the project, and
as I drove up to the hospital a little five-year old boy came
hopping merrily out on one leg, making the request he makes
o all who visit the amputee clinic: "Give me a jeep ride, give
me a jeep ride."

Little Kim, he is called, and the story of how he came into
Severance and of the care he now receives, can be duplicated
a hundred times.

Little Kim was brought into Severance near death from
shock and loss of blood, with a simple, brutal explanation of
his wounds.

"Some bad men came to my house last night. They killed
my daddy and my mother. They shot my leg off."

Now Little Earn is one of over three hundred Koreans who
are getting a new start in life through the activities of the
Amputee Clinic. The armless and legless are first prepared
for artificial limbs, have the limbs (made by fellow ampu
tees) fitted, will learn to walk, ride bicycles, use their hooks;
will be taught a trade and will be able to go back, already
are going back into the stream of Korean life able to work
and make a living.

The "I" Corps project is actually combined with the Ko
rean Amputee Project, sponsored by American missionaries.
Even before General Kendall went into action, the Methodist
and Presbyterian Missions, operating through Church World
Service, were developing a program of medical assistance and
rehabilitation for the estimated 22,000 amputees in Korea.
The Korean Amputee Project was first centered in Seoul's
Severance Hospital but was soon extended to Taejon and
Chonju.

The activities of these two related amputee projects, one
soldier-initiated, the other missionary-inspired, are a monu
ment to American generosity and a guide post on the road to

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

genuine inter-religious cooperation. The use of the T Corps
trust fund is determined by an inter-religious board o direc
tors in Korea made up of a Catholic, a Presbyterian, a Metho
dist and a Seventh Day Adventist missionary, an officer from
*T* Corps and another officer selected from the staff of the
American embassy military attache's staff in Seoul.

The Methodist church brought Dr. Reuben Torrey, vet
eran Methodist missionary from China, to direct medical fa
cilities at Severance. Dr. Torrey is himself an amputee, can
understand the morale problems that beset the terribly crip
pled children, men and women who are brought into Sever
ance. Paul Kingsbury, young Presbyterian lay missionary,
took a special course in the making of artificial limbs and
was rushed to Seoul. Dr. Paul Crane, medical chief at the
Chonju unit, is supported by the Southern Presbyterian
church. Down in Taejon, Corporal Neil Stowe, a Catholic
enlisted man, attached to lyist Evacuation hospital, and a
trained artificial limb-maker, is giving his time to the main
tenance of a limb shop. Thelma Maw, Methodist occupa
tional therapist, and Louise Scarin, Presbyterian nurse, com
plete the staff. Missionary direction of medical facilities,
combined with 'T' Corps purchased equipment, have pro
duced at Severance a magnificent amputee clinic.

I spent two days in the Severance unit of the project. It
was a heart-breaking, yet heart-warming experience. In the
orthopedic children's wards were those who still must go
through pain and anguish before limbs can be fitted. For
some of the amputees this is a long process. Stumps must be
prepared and that means new operations.

I talked to thirteen-year-old Yu Chong Sang who lost both
arms when he got in the way of a hand grenade. One hook
has already been fitted, and with that hook he can do won
ders. But the other stump is not ready, must receive further
surgical attention from Dr. Torrey before a hook can be
fitted. Then the boy must learn to use the hooks. After com-

240

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

pleting his course in the Seoul "rehab" ward, he will be sent
south to Taejon to learn a trade.

The equipment used in making artificial limbs and to train
amputees in the use of the limbs is simple and inexpensive.
Six of the eight Koreans working in the limb shop are ampu
tees, and Paul Kingsbury told me he hopes eventually to em
ploy only amputees.

In the room next to Paul Kingsbury's shop, amputees are
trained in the use of hooks. On the wall is a board, extending
almost from baseboard to ceiling. On the board there are
locks of every description, door knobs, light switches, even
a dial 'phone. Before the armless can "graduate" they must
operate every gadget on the board, must be able to dial a
set of numbers in 90 seconds. I watched Yu Chong Sang "do
the board" with his one fitted hook. He did it in the pre
scribed time but was criticized a bit for fumbling. I asked Dr.
Torrey if there is anything the armless cannot learn to do.

"Yes," he told me, "there is one thing, and it makes the
children especially a little upset. There is no hook we can
devise that can be used to manipulate chopsticks. The boys
and girls will have to learn to eat with knife and fork."

While the amputee work is a monument to the generosity
of American soldiers, it does no credit to American artificial
limb manufacturers. When Church World Service initiated
the project, it tried to find just one experienced American
manufacturer of artificial limbs willing to go to Korea and
train Koreans to help themselves. Not one was willing to take
on the job. It was for this reason that Paul Kingsbury, com
pletely without experience, was given eight weeks training
and rushed out to Korea to set up the shops.

I asked Dr. Torrey just how inter-religious activities worked
out in the project.

"Above all else," he replied, "we try to make the project as
Christian as possible. No child is ever turned away. All chil
dren receive religious teachings according to their known

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

faith. Last week I was having lunch with Father Carroll in
Taejon when a new case was brought in. I was called out to
examine the boy and noticed a cross around his neck. We
found out that he was from a Catholic family. I informed
Father Carroll who informed a local priest. That boy is in a
Protestant hospital, but he will receive religious help from a
Catholic priest. That's the way we operate."

There is a big job ahead for the combined amputee pro
jects. The three hundred who have received help constitute
a tiny fraction, of those who need help. Thousands of ampu
tees are scattered through the country, in the cities, in re
mote villages. This fall a man supported by "I" Corps trust
funds will begin beating the bushes, hunting for amputees,
especially children. The parents will be told that help is avail
able, their fears will be allayed, their children brought into
Seoul, Chonju or Taejon. Dr. Torrey estimates that there are
a minimum of 22,000 more who need help.

For the children, the road to complete rehabilitation is
long and painful. Little Kim, for instance, may need four or
five artificial legs as he grows older. As the size of his legs
and stump increases, he will need a bigger, more adult arti
ficial leg. Children and parents must be taught how to keep
the stump clean, must learn the importance of wearing a
clean stump sock every day.

But already those who are working with the amputees can
see the success of their efforts. As I left Severance Hospital
one afternoon, a young Korean boy rode up on his bicycle.
He dismounted nimbly and walked into the building. I would
never have known that he was a legless bi-lateral had not
Paul Kingsbury pointed him out to me.

With well deserved pride Paul said, "There is one of our
boys. We made his legs, we taught him how to use his legs,
we taught him a trade."

Surely the story of the young Korean, without legs, but
who can now ride a bicycle because of the generosity of
Americans should be told to all of Asia. The operation of the

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

"I" Corps project and the missionary amputee work with
which it is connected should provide excellent counter propa
ganda directed at the people of Asia who have heard and
who even believe the germ warfare charges, the other stories
of American soldier brutality.

Yet, as far as I know, neither the amputee project, nor the
heart-warming work of the American GI has ever been used
by the Voice of America. This is an important and costly
failure. Since the end of World War II the Communists have
tried desperately to belittle the American soldier, to paint
him as black as possible. And the desperation with which
this effort has been carried on indicates the fear Communists
have of the vast reservoir of friendship and good feeling for
America.

Thus the germ warfare charges are really nothing new, are
but an extension of Red Chinese charges of 1946 which be
gan in Shanghai where the Americans attached to a military
police unit were attacked for their ""brutal" conduct. From
that slender beginning, the charges spread and were multi
plied.

In December of 1946 I was director of the United States
Information Service in China. I reported to the Department
of State in detail the extent of the campaign directed against
American service men. I quoted a conversation I had with
an American just returned from Communist-controlled areas
in northwest China: "She tells me that the anti-American
campaign there has been vigorous, with lurid posters depict
ing rape, murder and robbery in dozens of ways/ 5

The pattern of Communist propaganda has never changed^
is the same whether it be in China or in Korea. While visiting
Kinmen, I secured several Communist leaflets, floated over
from the mainland in bamboo tubes. The attack against
American fighting men was there, their brutality and cow
ardice, their "defeat" in Korea documented down to the last
exaggerated detail.

The cleverness of the Communist technique is indicated

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

by the fact that, wherever possible, Americans have been
used to discredit fellow Americans. Thus it was that a lead
ing American magazine accused American soldiers of father
ing 200,000 illegitimate babies in Japan, An American news
paper man (a Communist sympathizer) in Shanghai was
used to tell the story of American brutality in Korea, through
the pages of his English language magazine.

While I was attached to the U. S. Embassy in China in
1946-47, 1 saw an excellent example of how the Communist
program developed, using Americans to transmit the anti-
American propaganda.

During that period U.S. marines were stationed in North
China. The presence of the marines was of course vigorously
denounced by the Communists. A series of stories began to
appear in the leftist press detailing atrocities committed by
the marines. Specifically it was reported that marines were
using Chinese farmers for target practice. It was inconceiva
ble to me that American marines or soldiers would use human
beings for target practice. I made a trip to North China in
early 1947 and personally investigated die situation. I found
that one Chinese farmer had been wounded by a stray bullet
fired from a marine target range. From this slender thread,
the story had been woven into a first class scandal, passed
on by Communist-inspired Chinese newspapers, by American
dupes led by a few Americans who knew exactly what they
were doing.

American soldiers do misbehave, and their sins should be
criticized and punished. But the good they do far outweighs
the evil. I believe strongly that the story of American gen
erosity has never been properly told by our Information
Agencies. It is told in fragmentary form by our newspaper
and magazine reporters, but that telling is only for American
reading. Yet it is a ready-made answer to a decade of Com
munist vilification against our fighting men. Why do we not
use the weapons we possess?

244

Chapter 7

IT is ONLY the isolated mountain valleys like the one where
Kim Man Gu and his lepers live that do not show the
ravages of war. From the truce line, on far to the south
are still the actual signs of combat. From Taegu southward
cities are unmarked by physical violence, but their limits
are horribly swollen by thousands of refugees who still have
found no place to really settle, who have no home but the
jerry-built shacks that are a part of the Korean scene today.

But there is one spot in Korea, completely untouched by
war, where one sees no beggars, few of the armless and leg
less veterans who crowd the streets of mainland cities. For
that spot is an island, just off the mouth of the Han River. It
is called Kangwha which means "Flowery River" and it is
among the most historic spots in Korea. There are other his
toric spots, places like Kyongju, seat of the Silla dynasty
1500 years ago. There are temples and monasteries all through
the land, but for me there is no place quite like Kangwha.
Sentiment enters in, for it was there that Elsie and I spent
our short honeymoon. John, Jr., and I have hiked the hills
of Kangwha together. Many times during the peaceful years
of 1948, 1949 and 1950 I journeyed to Kangwha to hunt, to
explore, or just to rest in the peaceful quiet of ancient Chung
Dong Monastery.

We Americans, who fought a long war for independence,
who were forced to fight again a few years later, who were

MS

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

split by bloody civil war when our nation had still not ex
isted for a century, should be able to appreciate Kangwha
Island, for there can be seen physical evidence of Korea's
long fight for independence.

Korean history begins on Kangwha. Kim Chong Sop, an
cient abbot of Chung Dong Monastery, points out the nearby
mountain top where Tan Gun, legendary first king of Ko
rea, landed from heaven nearly three thousand years before
Christ. A cairn of stones marks the sacred spot.

But unification and independence did not come easily
for the Koreans. There were centuries of war before the
land was united during the Koryo dynasty, from which
the land has received its foreign name. (The Koreans called
their country Hangook or Chosun.) Then, four thousand
years after Tan Gun's descent from heaven, began the alien
invasions that have been Korea's lot for centuries.

In 1232 the Mongols swept across the Yalu River and
spread throughout the land. The Korean kings were unable
to fight off the Mongol horde, but they did not give up. They
retreated to Kangwha and holed up there for several decades.
In 1233, second year of exile from the mainland, they built
a wall, not only around the landward side of the island but
on the crests of all the mountains guarding the mainland ap
proaches as well. The Korean kings built their refugee capi
tal in Kangwha city, but when it was burned in 1246, they
moved into the mountain-encircled valley where the Chong
Dong Monastery now stands.

The wall built then around the monastery still stands. For,
according to legend, Tan Gun sent help. He ordered his three
sons to leave heaven and to build the wall quickly. It was
done in a day, and is called the Wall of the Three Sons.
Behind that wall the kings of Korea lived in exile until the
Mongols retreated.

Again in 1636 Chinese hordes drove south, and again the
royal family retreated to Kangwha. The new enemy was able

2,46

THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

to cross the narrow channel from Kimpo, was able to breach
the wall and to destroy Kangwha city.

But Koreans are stubborn folks. The new enemy in time
departed, and a new wall, even stronger and higher was built
along the shores of the island. The Korean kings had no oc
casion to again use the island as their "Formosa" until the
nineteenth century. The Western World had by then dis
covered Korea, sought to bring its religion and its trade to
a people who wanted only to be left alone.

In 1866 the French attempted to reach Seoul. Kangwha
lies at the mouth of the Han River, in those days the only
avenue of approach to Korea's capital. The French attempted
to storm Kangwha, but the Wall of the Three Sons held them
back. The invaders were repulsed, and for a short period
Korea was left alone by the outside world.

The next-to-the-last Korean king was born on Kangwha in
1851. He was of the Li dynasty, a family to which President
Syngman Rhee is related. There remained for Korea only a
few more years of independence after the birth of the king.
For when the Japanese invaders came, walls built seven hun
dred years earlier were of little value. A mile wide channel
could no longer serve as a giant moat. There was no retreat
to Kangwha because retreat would be useless.

Much of Korea's history was written on. Kangwha and still
can be seen in its monasteries, walls, its mountain-top cairns.
And the face of the future, the nature of the problems facing
Korea's present leaders can also be seen from the tops of
Kangwha's mountains. The island now is the most northerly
United Nations position on Korea's western front.

From the mountains above the Chong Dong Monastery I
could watch the new invaders with field glasses. There were
thousands of Chinese coolies at work that day in Septem
ber, 1953, building giant subterranean bunkers, digging new
trenches building their new wall.

While Kangwha is at peace, it lies closer to danger than

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

at any time in its history. Two and one-half miles away are
thousands of Chinese, more ruthless, more determined than
were the Manchus or the Mongols. Kangwha's history, all of
Korea's history, repeats itself across the mouth of the Han.
Chinese invaders again threaten the island and the nation.
And these are Chinese whom no wall, no fortress monastery
can ever stop.

And for Syngman Rhee, descendant of a king born on
Kangwha, there can be no retreat. There is no place to go
except to the north where a new wall of water and mountains
could perhaps give the nation security again.

But how can half -a-nation expect to breach the great new
wall the Communists have built across Korea? And what
about the correspondent who said: "What can you do with
these people they won't help themselves; they will not
fight?"

No testimony of mine is needed on the fighting ability
of Korea's troops. General James Van Fleet, the man who
trained and commanded them, has called them "superb."
Other Americans who worked with the ROK's have testi
fied to their ability. Even a majority of American war cor
respondents, men not generally predisposed to praise any
thing Korean, have written of their valor. The ROK's have
deficiencies, of course. They have not mastered the problems
of modern logistics; they are deficient in the operation of
some modern equipment.

Even on the day my British colleague damned the people,
the leaders and the soldiers of Korea, a dramatic occurrence
took place in the heart of Seoul, a few blocks away from the
Eighth Army correspondents' billets.

Each day through most of August and September of 1953,
a succession of helicopters roared in to land in the heart of
Seoul, setting down in a cleared spot where once a govern
ment office building stood. Each day crowds of Korean civil/
ians gathered too, to greet the helicopters. For each ship car-

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

ried ROK soldiers repatriated during Operation Big Switch.
These were the ill, for the others were processed near Free
dom Village.

The civilians who came each afternoon came sometimes to
greet returning heroes, sometimes to look hopefully for a son
or for a father. As each helicopter landed, the throng would
push forward, silently and anxiously watching as each man
was taken out on a litter.

I was there one day in September when a crowd of school
girls had come to sing, to welcome the wounded and the
ill. As each broken man was brought out he was cheered
by the girls. One Korean boy was lying on his stomach on
the stretcher as the orderlies lifted him out. He made no
movement, did not even acknowledge the girls who were
there to greet him. Then one of the orderlies tapped him
on the shoulder, spoke to him, asking that at least he show
a little appreciation. But still the Korean soldier did not
move.

Suddenly the white-clad oldsters, the brightly clothed
school girls all understood. It was as if a message simultane
ously reached the mind of each person.

The Korean soldier was dead. For him freedom had come
too late. Somewhere between Freedom Village and Seoul he
had died.

Few American correspondents watched the daily drama
that took place in the heart of Seoul. For them and quite
naturally so the big story was in the American boys who
came each day into Freedom Village. But the story of the
Korean repatriates is a further indication that the British
correspondent who said they would not fight did not know
whereof he spoke.

Not only did the Koreans fight, and fight well, even when
captured they did not break. And the average Korean POW
suffered far more torture, received less food, than did his
fellow soldiers from America, or Britain or Turkey,

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

The Korean soldiers had no long democratic tradition to
bolster them in their fight against the brainwashers. Most
of them were country boys, never even knowing how to han
dle a gun until war suddenly burst upon their country. Many
had actually gone into battle before firing a practice shot.

Neither did the Korean GI have the incentive of home and
loved ones to keep his spirit alive. For in many cases homes,
even whole villages had long since been devastated. Loved
ones were dead or long lost or themselves prisoners in some
North Korean prison camp.

Yet in spite of these facts, less than five per cent of all Ko
reans captured gave in to the brainwashers. The stories these
boys told were stories of unbelievable suffering, of a will to
fight back that was never, for most of them, broken.

It might be well to compare the record of Korean re
patriates with that of the American men who have returned
home from prisoner camps. Of the 3,332 American men re
turned, over 300 are now facing or have faced charges con
cerning their activities while prisoners. Nearly ten per cent
"broke" in some way. In the fall of 1954 an American army
officer was court-martialed for disloyal acts while a prisoner.
Never before in American military history has there been a
similar case.

The unwillingness of the simple ROK soldier to break
under enemy pressure ranks along with the willingness of
Chinese Communist soldiers to surrender as a psychological
factor of great importance.

Not only will the man of South Korea fight and superbly,
according to General Van Fleet he is as good a soldier as
any in his steadfastness, his moral fibre, when faced with the
torture that has caused even Americans to break.

There are 600,000 ROK's today. I watched them in Seoul
and in Pusan and Taegu. They are well behaved boys, well
thought of by their countrymen. I have visited their new
training camps, high in the mountains along the central front,

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

where a division at a time can be given refresher training. I
have seen a little of their partisan training. For the northern
part of Kangwha Island is now a base for training of Koreans
in all the tactics of guerrilla and partisan warfare.

Where there are now 600,000 men under arms in South
Korea, there could be many more. An army of a million
ROK's with adequate artillery and planes and naval forces,
what it might do to complement the men of Free China I
saw on the guerrilla islands and on Formosa!

Could Red China with its economic problems, its thou
sands of guerrillas and dissident peasants, withstand a two-
prong attack, one from Korea in the North, one against the
China Coast? Could it withstand at the same time the wide
spread guerrilla activities which could hit them all through
Korea, along its coast, from the mouth of the Han River to
the Indo-China border?

Would the people of Korea back another struggle? I think
they would. I believe there are still a vast majority of the
people who have not given up, who will fight if given the op
portunity to strike back at the menace that has dislocated
their lives for so many years, that has brought ruin and deso
lation to their land.

But Syngman Rhee and his government is so difficult, we
are told. How can we expect much from an ally who causes
trouble, who threatens, who seems ungrateful for all that
America has done for it?

Yes, Syngman Rhee is a difficult man, a man of single pur
pose. When I last talked to him in the fall of 1953 ^ e s Pk e
more of the menace of Japan than he did of other problems
that might seem far more pressing and important. But is this
not easily understood, just as we can understand the distrust
of France toward Germany? In the case of Rhee and Korea,
there is even more personal basis for hatred and distrust of
the Japanese. For Korea suffered under forty years of Japa
nese rule, scores of its leaders were exiled, tortured, impris-

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

oned. And Rhee is a smart man. He knows that there have
been occasions when the U.S. government has forced inferior
Japanese goods upon Korea, as in the case of the equipment
for South Korea's power system. Syngman Rhee remembers
too that even before the Communist invasion, Marshall Plan
administrators forced Korea to accept Japanese ships, so in
ferior that at least one ship sank en route from Japan to
Korea.

Certainly his stubborn opposition is wrong, just as France's
failure to go along wholeheartedly with German rearmament
has been wrong. At least it is wrong in so far as the total pic
ture of Free World planning is concerned. But while wrong,
it is also understandable. Korea, with all its troubles and
problems, has a part to play in the liberation of Asia.

Militarily this may all be nonsense. But factors other than
military will provide the final answer in Asia. And that an
swer will not affect only the peoples of Korea and Formosa.
An effort to free China and North Korea, a bona fide attack
by the Free World, would cause repercussions all through
the nervous neutral lands. Burma, already stiffening a little,
would be affected. The people of divided Indo-China would
take heart. Little Thailand, probable next target in the Red
push into Southeast Asia would be strengthened. And all
through Asia the overseas Chinese populations would take
their place on the side of the Free World.

President Syngman Rhee said all these things when he
came to America in 1954. He urged the Congress o the
United States to be realistic, to understand that the future
of Asia was at stake. He was not applauded when he spoke
to the Congress about war. Talk of war in an election year
is most distasteful. But neither did any member of Congress
or any official of the United States speak up with an alter
native.

Of course it is wishful thinking to even consider such a
two-pronged attack against Communism in Asia. For there is

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THEY WILL NOT FIGHT, NOR HELP THEMSELVES

little time to prepare it, materially or otherwise. And given
time, another year or so perhaps, Communism can repair its
broken dykes in Asia. More "dissident elements" will be liqui
dated, more millions brainwashed until at last the spark of
resistance is gone.

But equally important is what time is doing to the Free
World's remaining allies. Years of war, years of uncertainty
ahead, the breaking of ancient family ties, the awful inse
curity that faces so many people is producing more and more
Mr. Paks, who have given up the fight.

All of Asia is today in ferment. There is moral ferment
and cultural ferment, brilliantly exploited by the Commu
nists who offer an end to the uncertainty.

Near what was once called the s8th Parallel, I talked to a
Korean Christian refugee, an old woman alone because her
family was gone. One by one she had lost them to prison
camps, to the army and death, to the unknown. The family
had moved to escape the pressure; the father had changed
business.

"How long will it last?" she asked me. "How long will we
be always moving, always running, always escaping, always
wondering?"

How long will it last, ask the young people, too, who have
known only fear and uncertainty. War has broken the moral
ties of the past. Uncertainty has brewed the greatest ferment
in Asia's history. This too, is a part of the story of Asia ill
the aftermath of Panmunjom and Geneva.

BOOK FOUR

THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

Chapter 1

THE old folks of Asia, whether it be in Korea, China or
Japan are slow to change their ways. The pattern of
existence is unchanging, men and women plant and
harvest their rice fields in the shadow of great air bases just
as they planted and harvested a thousand years ago. War
devastates villages; rice fields are cratered with bombs and
artillery; with infinite patience the people move elsewhere
to claw and carve a new field, to build a new shack, to breed
more children. War becomes just one more element which,
added to flood and drought, must be contended with and
reckoned with in the unceasing struggle for existence.

It is among the young of Asia that the yeast of uncertainty
and the shadow of war has caused change and a ferment that
is sweeping the continent. For the young there seems no out,
no peace in sight, no future worth preparing for or waiting
for, no place to go nor to hide. As they attempt to compen
sate for their restlessness, there is a bounteous sampling of
strange fruit, an experimentation with the new, a vast cul
tural vacuum that is leading to moral and spiritual break
down.

Riding through the streets of Tokyo one day, I noticed
a theatre banner, in English. It read: "The Hottest Girlie
Show in Town." Then below the main banner, reflecting the

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

Japanese difficulty with "R*s" and "F's," another banner an
nounced "It's Terrizic, Terrizic, Terrizic-- Don't Miss It."

I was unable to take in the "hottest" show, but I did see a
typical Tokyo girlie show, representative of the new "art"
that is sweeping Japan. In the Nichigeki Music Hall, playing
three times daily to standing-room-only crowds, I saw a show
called Women Prefer Locomotives. There were dances and
songs, a bilingual master of ceremonies with off-color jokes
in two languages and the most complete nakedness I have
ever seen on the stage. A horseshoe-shaped stage projected
well into the audience so that the nakedness could be viewed
and appreciated at close quarters. As a part of the show, an
attractive Japanese girl appeared dressed as a Catholic nun.
She disrobed completely before the enthusiastic audience o
United Nations troops on leave and Japanese from every
walk of life.

The use of a nun's habit as a prop for a strip-tease surprised
me. Could this be an indication of anti-Christian feeling, a
slap at religion? The next day I questioned a Japanese news
paper friend.

"Oh no," he replied to my question. "There is nothing ir
religious about it. That's just a gimmick more clothes to take
off."

The girlie shows of Japan are much discussed in the Japa
nese press. There are Japanese who lament the new art, others
who praise it. One newspaper editorialized that the strip
tease Japanese style was a good thing, was bringing the
theatre "back to the people" in simple, earthy fashion. Be
that as it may, the girlie shows of Japan are but one aspect
of the tremendous cultural change taking place in the Far
East. One finds the change in Korea, in the mountains of
Formosa, in Southeast Asia. The ferment is in part, but only
in part, due to the presence of vast numbers of Americans. It
is in part due to economic conditions and pressures. And it is
also the result of spiritual and moral emptiness.

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THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

According to Japanese tradition, when the god Kamo Myo-
jin descended to earth some 3,000 years ago he brought pros
titutes with him. The girls have been a part of the Japanese
pattern of life for generations, flourishing as licensed enter
tainers. But never before in Japanese history has prostitution
flourished as it does today.

The Japanese government announced a census of licensed
prostitutes recently. The number totaled 124,289. These are
the girls who operate in the houses, under supervision, in dis
tricts like Tokyo's famed Yoshiwara where there is even a
special hospital to serve the needs of the entertainers. Agents
roam all of rural Japan, contracting for the services of girls
long before they are ready to ply the trade. The parents often
approve, for after all, "What other job can our daughter get
that will support the whole family?"

The Japanese government census does not include the
thousands who are unlicensed. To see them, one need only
visit the streets that radiate out from the great open space
in front of the Tokyo railroad system. Rain or shine, summer
or winter, they gather, on the street that runs past the big
U. S. Army Post Office building. Short skirts, high heels and
lipstick are the style for these girls. In Tokyo alone their
number is estimated at 25,000. They are a product of war
and Americans, their very clothes gifts from American sol
diers or bought at the end of the devious black market trail
that began in an Army PX. Snappily dressed, many of them
teen-agers, the girls have complemented their Western dress
with ofttinaes excellent knowledge of English.

It is not only on the streets and in the districts that the girls
ply their trade. The nightclubs advertise blatantly that their
hostesses are the prettiest and make it clear that services
other than tending bar are available. One of Tokyo's plushest
clubs reminds its patrons that the waitresses cannot live on
tips and salaries, that they are available for other services
when the club closes down.

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

It is estimated that the sale of women has brought an aver
age of $85,000,000 a year to Japan since 1946, thus providing
that economically unbalanced land a tremendous amount of
foreign exchange. Women bring in almost ten times more
money than does the tourist trade. Americans are of course
the major buyers and contribute most to this flourishing trade,
now one of Japan's biggest. Indeed, Americans have tried
their hand at organizing it. Two astute young men, taking
their discharges in Tokyo, set up a well-organized business
that would have made them rich had not a Japanese news
paper exposed it. With American initiative and know-how,
these technical-assistance experts gathered together a stable
of Tokyo's most attractive maidens. A beautiful brochure
was prepared, each girl's picture accompanied by vital and
physical statistics. Advertisements, slightly camouflaged were
placed in the English language newspapers.

The system worked nicely. A hotel guest needed only to
call the number, and a runner would come bearing the bro
chure. The girl was picked out, headquarters was notified by
number, and the fun began.

The changes in Asia range from the tragic to the ridiculous,
have extended even into the high Formosan mountains. There
the little mountain girls working in the tea plantations are
well rouged and lipsticked and nearly every girl has a fresh
permanent. As I traveled the Formosan mountains and mar
veled at lipstick and hairdos, I noticed too that the young
girls of China seemed of different proportions than those I
had seen and known on China's mainland. It was Tommy
Hsu who told me of the booming business in f alsies that has
swept the island. There is a definite boom in busts among
all the ladies of Chiang's redoubt. And I picked up one other
bit of incidental intelligence: riding the crest of the For
mosan musical hit parade is the song, "On Top of Old Smoky."

Nowhere is the change that has come to Asia more appar
ent than in Korea, the land with an age-old morality in which

THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

the people once took pride. Literally thousands of prostitutes
swarm that land. In Seoul alone there are 10,000 members
of the Prostitutes' Union, known as the "Pure as the Lily
Club." For many Koreans a new term has been added to the
language. It is "Yang-Ki-BaF and means "United Nations
Madame," being a collective term for all the women who ply
their trade professionally or as amateurs among United Na
tions troops and civilian personnel.

The Yang-Ki-Bals swarm the land, in a vast district near
Pusan's railroad station, in Seoul's Banchang district and in
the better homes on the slope of South Mountain, in hun
dreds of homes throughout the country where the more for
tunate have been set up in modest housekeeping by their
patrons. Each evening they gather on the wide avenue that
runs past Seoul's Chang Duk palace, to be picked up in
dividually or by Army truck load. Like their Japanese sisters,
they too have abandoned traditional dress for high heels and
smart American clothes. Nylon stockings and brassieres are
in demand in Korea now, and there too figures have changed
drastically as a result of war.

There have, of course, always been prostitutes, in every
land. But in three years' residence in pre-war Korea I don't
remember ever being propositioned upon the street, or hear
ing the chant of little brothers and other commission agents
who swarm Seoul and Pusan: "Have nice clean sister, cheap/'
or "Nice young Korean girl, cheap."

The tragedy of Korea is that the Yang-Ki-Bals are being
accepted, as a necessary, even advantageous part of life. One
night I walked the streets of Pusan's teeming red-light dis
trict with newspaper friend Suh E Ton. Mr. Suh pointed out
the various grade houses, those primarily for civilians, those
reserved for soldier patrons.

"But how do the Korean people take this business?" I
asked.

"A few of the old-fashioned people object/' replied Mr.

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

Suh. "But after all we realize what an economic advantage
these girls have. Why one successful girl can support twenty
people sometimes! They help their families; they are of serv
ice to the nation."

I found girls who had once worked for me before the days
of war, a little ashamed at first, then defiant. At the Eighth
Army correspondents' billets in Seoul, the Yang-Ki-Bals pa
raded in and out, openly, without shame. It was a cozy and
neighborly relationship. Prostitutes from a nearby district
dropped in casually when business was light to attend the
nightly movies showed for the correspondents and the mili
tary men who maintain the billets.

How many are there in Korea? Mr. Suh said 200,000 to
400,000 counting those who drift the streets as well as those
who are kept in style and comfort. If this is correct and if
we translate into terms of proportionate population here in
America, it would mean that our nation would have a mil
lion and a half active plyers of the world's oldest profession.

"It's inevitable, it's something we can't stop," an officer
told me. But how long can the moral fibre of a nation endure
under such circumstances? Will there not be repercussions
for generations to come? Already the results can be clearly
seen in smaller places like Okinawa where the sale of teen
age girls is taken for granted, by civilian population and U. S.
Army alike. "We have reduced the people of Okinawa to a
beer and prostitute existence," a disgusted American on Oki
nawa told me.

Of course the Communists are quick to seize upon the cul
tural vacuum, quick to capitalize upon spiritual and moral
breakdown. Their approach is double-barrelled. They /appeal
to the old people by pointing out that imperialistic and cor
rupt America is responsible for the moral breakdown of the
young. For the young there is a flood of propaganda, offering
hope for the hopeless, a future for those now lost in uncer
tainty, security and stability for those who now have no
moorings.

THE FAK EAST IN FERMENT

As thousands now seek to feed their bodies by selling their
flesh, other thousands seek to fill their minds by sampling o
the varied intellectual wares offered by Communism. In Asia's
bookstores one can see how the Communists are attracted by
the vacuum and how they exploit it.

In 1954 the Communists opened their first lending library
in Tokyo; Communist books, in both hard-backed and inex
pensive editions, are available throughout Japan. Prices are
tailored to fit the pocketbook, for profit is not a motive. In a
student district, handsomely bound books from Russia can
be purchased for a quarter. The same book may sell for two
and three times that amount in a well-to-do neighborhood.
Through mid- 1954 two big books, The Works of J. V. Stalin
and Problems of Leninism had sold 50,000 and 60,000 copies
respectively at a price equivalent to fifty-five cents a copy.
Similar books about the United States or the men who helped
to lay the foundation of our democracy would cost between
two and three dollars. The U.S., worrying about copyrights,
royalties and profits, does not make its story available to those
who have little money. And U. S. Information Libraries can
not fill the gap, cannot compete with the enemy which makes
it possible for the intellectual shopper to buy and own books.

What does this mean, translated into Communist Party
membership, among the young? In 1954 the chief of Ja
pan's security investigation board reported there were 100,000
party members in the country, organized in 5,470 known cells.
Seventy thousand members were young men and women in
their twenties.

In his frightening book, Communism in Education in Asia,
Africa and the Far Pacific, Dr. Walter Eells reports the same
picture everywhere, except in those lands ruled by terrible
dictators like Chiang Kai Shek. Reporting on the huge Uni
versity of Calcutta with 45,000 students in its 66 affiliated
colleges, Dr. Eells states that about eight per cent of the
students are card-carrying members of the Communist Party;
forty per cent are fellow travelers; and about seventy per

263

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

cent are anti-American. He notes that, "Students in the latter
group in many cases differ but slightly from fellow travelers."

Dr. Eells devotes a chapter to the causes of Communist in
fluence in the schools and notes that, "Normal economic and
social conditions have been shattered in many countries."
Writing specifically of Japan where he was advisor on higher
education during much of the occupation, Dr. Eells paints
the picture of what is happening to afl of Asia's young people.

"The ideological vacuum has been particularly marked in
the case of Japan. Its young people had been trained for gen
erations to believe in the divinity and infallibility of the Ern-
peror. . . . Then overnight all these ideals, so carefully built
up in the minds of the youth, were rudely shattered. . . .
Under such violent changes it is not surprising that many
Japanese young people were bewildered. Many of them for
tunately showed new interest in the teachings of democracy
and Christianity; many drifted aimlessly . . . many others
turned to the alluring promises of Communism."

The Japanese Education Reform Council, reporting on the
causes of student disturbances, listed these as "social condi
tions subsequent to war, influence of international situations,
and confusion of thought on the part of students."

Is it any wonder that the "influence of international situa
tions" should cause "confusion of thought?" Consider Korea,
after forty years of hated Japanese rule, then five years of
supposed liberation while the nation became a pawn in in
ternational power politics, then three years of devastating
war, followed by a truce that leaves the nation still divided.

Consider China. Just emerging from years of chaos, with
good government in sight, she was suddenly plunged into
an eight-year struggle against an alien invader, only to find
the hoped-for peace then shattered by a civil war that has not
ended yet.

Consider Indo-China, conquered and occupied by Japan
whose defeat did not bring peace but only more war to end

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THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

there too in a divided land. And so the picture goes all over
Asia. Nations not touched by actual strife have felt the reper
cussions of strife. There is not a nation in Asia around which
war or rumors of war have not swirled continuously for nearly
twenty years.

Is it any wonder that the young people of Asia have a con
fusion of thought, that they seek desperately to find some
thing to cling to, that they sample new ways of living?

This confusion and the cultural and spiritual vacuum which
causes it is grist to the Communist mill. Whether it be a
breakdown in morals or of the mind, the Communists are on
hand to guide and direct and capitalize. The breakdown of
old family ties and morality is to their advantage and is assid
uously promoted. Visiting Guatemala just after the civil war
in July, 1954, I was told how the Communists had brought
in scores of prostitutes and party girls there, of how young
and impressionable men in government were urged to "liber
ate" themselves from foolish bourgeois morality. And so even
prostitution and the conditions which increase it, become a
carefully used weapon. Not only can the moral fibre of a na
tion be warped; scores and even hundreds of the prostitutes
are dope agents, adding narcotics as a powerful instrument of
Communist policy. A steady stream of dope flows from Red
China into Korea and Japan, to entrap Americans and native
people alike, to find its way to America and the resulting for
eign exchange that Red governments so badly need.

Dr. Walter EelFs description of Communist organization
and tactics in Asia could be applied to all their tactics in
capitalizing upon a continent in ferment. Writes Dr. Eells:
"Even though only a minority of the student body belongs to
a Communist cell, Communist students have often succeeded
in gaining control of student organizations and activities . . .
Communist student leaders know what they want. They are
alert. They are on the job twenty-four hours a day. They are
zealous missionaries for their cause/'

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

With such alertness and zeal Communism is moving suc
cessfully into Asia's vacuum, may well win the battle without
recourse to war. Already the populations of every land are
dividing themselves: There are those who give up, physically
and mentally, to become physical prostitutes or "neutralists/"
the mental prostitutes who no longer care to whom they sell
their minds. There are those who hold fast, who hope, who
fight on and dream of a better day-the Tommy Hsus, the
Chen Shi Hos, the Chang Chows, the Walter "Jhungs of Asia.
There are many who have turned to religion, as can be seen
in the Christian revival that has swept Korea, has penetrated
even into Japan and Formosa, or in the Buddhist revival in
Burma.

The heart and soul and mind of Asia is on the block, to be
won or lost by the democratic and Christian world. How Asia
came to be as it is must be better understood if the Free
World is to win the spiritual and intellectual struggle. It is
not enough to say that Asia's turmoil is inevitable because of
the combination of nationalism and the hatred of colonialism.
It is not enough to dismiss the problem by simply saying,
"The white man is finished, because he is hated."

Newsweek magazine has extended this "hatred of the white
man" theme to wishful thinking about the course of Chi
nese-Russian relations, stating, in a review of Red China's
strength ( all the magazines devote great space to Commu
nism's strength in Asia, rarely mentioning the strength of
those who keep the rice growing green on democracy's side),
that "They [the people of China] regard the Russians, as
they do all foreigners, as barbarians-"

This statement is worse than over-simplification; it is stu
pid. The Chinese and the Koreans are tolerant people, not per
se hating anyone or labeling anyone as barbarians. The aver
age Chinese hates the American no more than the native
Taiwanese hates the mainland Chinese who tried to exploit
him. The typical native of Fukien has no more use for an

266

THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

ill-mannered Shantungese than he does for an overbearing
British businessman. South Koreans often have difficulties
with their more aggressive refugee brothers from North Ko
rea.

The white man may well be finished in Asia, but not be
cause he is white, not because he is necessarily associated
with colonialism. Even the French in Indo-China gave far
more than they took. In his book Report on Indo-China,
Bernard Newman states of the French: "In Indo-China they
found countries devastated by internecine strife, very back
ward in administration, and with social services scarcely ex
isting. But for the Viet Minh war, Vietnam could now be
handed over as a civilized land."

The Far East is in ferment because of many factors. Cer
tainly colonial powers were slow too often, confused even
when they had good intentions. Diplomats are partly at fault.
And Theodore White in his Fire in the Ashes neatly blames
diplomatic failures on Joe McCarthy and senatorial investi
gators in general!

American churches must even share part of the blame. My
own Methodist church, with a magnificent history of work
in China dating back to 1847, turned its back on the land in
1949, could not believe that Free Chinese could hold on in
Formosa long enough to make extensive missionary work
worthwhile.

America's part in the tragedy of Asia must be shared by
diplomats and churchmen and in particular by the men and
women of the American press who have been reporting on
Asia for the past quarter of a century. America's freedom of
press may well have become, as far as Asia is concerned, our
most dangerous freedom, its failures and dangers typified by
the statement of an American newsman, returned to freedom
after months of imprisonment in Communist China.

Richard Applegate, a reporter for NBC, was captured while
cruising in a yacht in international waters off Hong Kong.

267

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

The story of Applegate's imprisonment was not a new story.
There was the usual senseless questioning, the threats, the
efforts to break the will by solitary confinement, poor food
and constant fear. There was the usual effort to obtain a
signed confession, and Dick Applegate signed one. I do not
hold that against him; for I have no idea what I would do
under similar circumstances.

But I was struck and startled by this statement, made by
Dick Applegate when he was released. "Before this hap
pened to me," he was reported as saying, "I was a reporter,
and as a reporter I tried to stay neutral in the cold war be
tween Communism and democracy."

Is the crime reporter "neutral" when he covers stories of
murder and rape? Is it not possible to be objective and hon
est and still not he neutral? The sin of American reporting
is that not only have there been many neutralists; there have
been many who were not even neutral in Asia's struggle, who
have been so lacking in an understanding of Asia's history
that they have seen goodness only on the side of the enemy.
By their reporting they have influenced American thinking
and American policy just as much as have the diplomats, and
so have contributed greatly to the confusion of this day.

Dick Applegate has seen the light. He followed his confes
sion of neutrality with a forthright statement: "But now I'm
not neutral any more. I'm going to get into it [the fight] . I'm
going to fight that tyranny any way I can from now on."

Unfortunately for the people of Asia the other writers who
cover the paddy field beat have not had the experience of
spending eighteen months in the filth and horror of a Com
munist prison. There are still too many who maintain neu
trality in the face of tyranny, and their story is a part of the
story of Asia in the aftermath of truce.

268

Chapter 2

I WAS in Seoul during those hope-filled days of Operation
Big Switch, when each day American boys came through
from the living death of prison camps, to enter Freedom
Village and to begin the long trip home. There were 180
correspondents, based at the Eighth Army's correspondents'
billets but shuttling back and forth on the road to Munsan
and Panmunjom. I was having a leisurely breakfast one day
when the number of returnees was to be small and many
correspondents had stayed in Seoul. There were five of us at
a table, gossiping, talking of Kprea and China and the prob
lems of war and peace in Asia.

"What the Far East needs," said a UP reporter, "is three
good heart attacks. One for Syngman Rhee, one for Chiang
Kai Shek, one for Madame Chiang."

The others at the table nodded sagely at this unique solu
tion of Asia s problems. Of the five of us, only I and one other
had ever been in China, or Formosa. Of the five of us, only
I had visited Kinmen or Matsu or Tungting Island. But thus,
without knowledge or personal experience, American writers
solved Asia's problems. The men at the table with me were
not even neutral in the struggle between Free and Enslaved
Asia. Their minds had been made up and closed, and it would

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

be naive to suppose that their reporting had not thereby be
come biased and lacking in objectivity.

It was two days after my breakfast with the experts that
General William Dean was released. This was the big story
for which scores of men had waited. It was truly a big story;
for what had happened to Bill Dean had never before hap
pened to an American general. But it was a story which had
to be handled with care. Dean's statements and comments
must first be carefully screened; for there were still others
left behind who might be injured by premature statements.

The United States Army was quite correct therefore in de
manding that the Dean story be carefully cleared by censor
ship. The rules were clearly set forth, and most men abided
by them.

I was in the phone room of the correspondents* billets the
afternoon the Dean story broke. It was mainly a wire story
and I was writing only feature stuff, so I had little to do but
watch and marvel at the efficiency of American reporters
transmitting a big story to newspaper readers 10,000 miles
distant.

Suddenly the enlisted man at the switchboard cocked his
head in surprise. Quickly he pulled a plug and turned to an
officer nearby.

"So and so upstairs is telephoning his story directly to
Tokyo, in violation of your rules/' the enlisted man reported.
"I've just cut him off/'

Almost before the officer could reply, a representative of
one of America's great wire services stormed into the room
fairly screaming in rage.

"Who cut me off?" he shouted. "Don't you understand this
is the story we have been waiting for?"

The officer attempted to explain about the censorship rules
but had no opportunity to complete his sentence.

"No son-of-a-bitch in the United States Army is going to
mess me up; no damn censor is going to keep this story from

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THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

getting to Tokyo. Open that line or I'll raise hell from here
to the Pentagon."

With this parting shot a great newspaper reporter left the
room. An amazed enlisted man was ordered to open the To
kyo line again. An officer of the United States Army shrugged
his shoulders in shame and disgust, muttered, "What can
you do?" and left the room.

So it was that a news agency, in the great tradition of
American journalism, got its story through. The fact that
some lonely American, still in prison camp, might have been
hurt, did not matter. The fact that policy might be affected
was of no importance. The story must get through!

I do not imply that all American reporters have become
so calloused, so big for their britches. I do not even imply
that all or even the majority of those who cover the Orient
would solve Asia's problems with three heart attacks. I sim
ply give these illustrations of the stupidity and arrogance
that has become a part of reporting, that has contributed
much to Asia's chaos and America's confusion.

For the past decade there has been a pattern of arrogant,
biased, inaccurate and half-baked reporting, ranging from
the tragic to the ridiculous. "Bulls in China's Shop," is the
term I applied to reporters of this sort in an article in The
Freeman.

In the fall of 1953, two bright young Americans, a world
famous movie and TV camera team, arrived in Formosa, fresh
from conquests in Korea. The truce had been signed; Big
Switch was over; the young men sought new worlds to con
quer. Their request of Chinese Nationalist authorities was
simple; for after all, they had braved the enemy in Korea,
and jumped with paratroopers. They wanted to be dropped,
with equipment and interpreter, three hundred miles in the
interior of Communist China. Then they would walk out,
photographing and recording life under Mao, to be picked
up by the Chinese navy at some prearranged spot.

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

The request was politely refused; courteous Chinese offi
cials tried to explain the facts of life to the young Americans.
Thereupon cables began to fly thick and fast to their New
York headquarters. Uncooperative Chinese authorities were
denounced. When American officials on Formosa refused to
intercede, they too were denounced. Not only were Chinese
and American authorities accused of being uncooperative,
but they were also accused of committing that crime of which
there is none worse: They were jeopardizing the freedom of
the press.

The net result of the activities of this duo of bulls was
that feelings were unnecessarily ruffled; all the guerrilla is
lands were for a time put out of bounds to all American cor
respondents; the already difficult task of reporting on this
important sector of the Cold War front, a sector since become
very hot, was made more difficult.

And who can say with certainty that this one incident did
not contribute to the lack of knowledge in America about the
importance of Kinmen, China's Golden Gate, that is called
Quemoy in all our newspapers? I must confess at this point
that the use of that name, Quemoy, irritates me. It is un
known except to educated, English-speaking Chinese; its use
fails utterly to convey the importance of the island. Many
years ago the ubiquitous British mapped the coasts of China,
handing out remarkable names on the basis of supposed re
semblance to local pronunciation. Kinmen (pronounced Jin-
mun in Mandarin) is as best I can render it phonetically
Gingmuong in the local Fukien dialect, and from this the
British achieved their Quemoy. Of all the newspapers and
magazines reporting on the island, only U. S. News and
World Report even mentioned the island's real name, its
meaning in English, the magnificent activities that have been
carried on there. Again consider briefly the confusion in the
reporting on this small but vitally important spot. Conflict
ing statements on area: U. S. News reported 57 square miles;

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Time reported 85 square miles. The UP described Kinmen
as a flat sandpit; 17. S. News remarked upon the remarkable
fertility of the island; while Jim Lucas of the Scripps-Howard
papers commented that "its soil is rocky and its weather dry,
so it can't produce rice." And these descriptions are of the
same place!

It has become fashionable in some quarters to blame the
Nationalist government for poor public relations, thus caus
ing confusion in reporting the news. The same persons who
complain are also among those who accuse Free China of
maintaining a vast "lobby" in this country to sway public
opinion. But the Nationalist government is well aware of the
importance of good public relations. It does make mistakes,
fails to capitalize sometimes on events and personalities.
However, the government maintains a Government Spokes
man's Office in Taipei with the specific responsibility of help
ing visiting correspondents. The help is given generously.
Interpreters are provided, transportation is set up, appoint
ments are made quickly with top echelon officials.

But the poor Chinese are damned if they do, damned if
they don't. It is commonly reported by American correspond
ents in the Far East that these services are used, not to help,
but as a method of control. Flying from Okinawa to Taipei, I
shared a seat with an American who gravely informed me
that* all Taipei hotel rooms are wired for sound, that every
visiting foreigner is tailed wherever he goes, that baggage
and rooms are searched, that all mail is censored. This is the
story that every new correspondent in the Far East receives
from the advance echelon of the anti-Chiang press forces in
Tokyo.

Has anyone actually had evidence of tampering with his
mail, or actually seen the recording devices, really caught a
Nationalist secret agent in the act of searching his hotel
room? No, it is always third and fourth-hand information,
received from so-and-so who is now in the Balkans or back

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

home, or dead. Yet the stories go on and on with variations
applied for Korea and Syngman Rhee, and other great "dic
tator-menaces" of the Far East.

A few months ago I ran into a charming young American
woman reporter in Taipei. I had known her briefly in Korea,
and she was happy to see me, for she badly needed my as
sistance. Could I somehow arrange it for her to visit Sun-
Moon Lake over the week-end so that "they" would not
know it? Patiently I explained that it was only necessary for
her to buy a train ticket, make reservations at the Sun-
Moon Lake Hotel and be on her way. But no amount of ex
planation on my part could convince the young lady that she
was not being tailed, that "they" were not watching every
move she made, would stop her if she attempted to enjoy
the mountain scenery. Gravely she informed me that her
room and her baggage had already been searched.

"Did you actually see this being done?" I asked.

"No," she replied, "but I went back to my room suddenly
and there was a man in there,"

The fact that men or maids usually enter hotel rooms to
make the bed, to clean up, or to repair seemed to have been
forgotten in the mania of suspicion that filled her heart.
When last seen she was slipping off to the railroad station,
eluding the secret police of a government which had little
Interest in her week-end plans, or any plans of an unknown
and not very successful writer.

My young friend will do no great harm except to add her
bit to the body of anti-Chiang folklore that already has crip
pled American understanding and policy. But there are times
when American writers do great harm, actually help the en
emy because of sloppy or biased reporting. The United Press
was guilty of such harm in the spring of 1954. The UP called
attention to the possibility of a major Communist attack on
the Ta-chen Islands, the northern anchor of guerrilla-land.
In May and June, UP reported the situation so serious that

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all civilians were being evacuated from the islands. Accord
ing to one UP story, the Ta-chen Islands form "the classic
invasion route to Formosa."

The barren, rocky Ta-chens have never been an invasion
route to any place, either in modern or ancient times. The
total land area of all the thirty-odd islands in the group held
by the Nationalists totals thirty square kilometers. The total
population of all the islands is 18,576. Only a half dozen of
the islands are of sufficient size to be of great importance;
many are inhabited by only a handful of people.

As far as any student of China knows, the only invaders
who have ever approached the inhospitable islands are the
fishermen who settled there during the Ming dynasty. Yet
this is UP's "classic invasion route" to Formosa.

The implication of the UP reports is clear. Loss of the Ta-
chen Islands will be a major blow to Nationalist China. For
mosa will be threatened. Having built up the importance of
the Ta-chens, UP has made it almost mandatory that the
Reds take over. And in so doing they will achieve a United
Press-created victory of great importance.

"See," the anti-Chiang lobbyists will cry, "Chiang can't
even hold the most important islands along the China Coast;
he has lost the very approaches to Formosa."

The loss of any island along the coast can be serious from
a psychological standpoint. But if the Ta-chens are lost, what
should have been another battle among never-ending battles
along the coast becomes instead an important Communist
victory, thanks to the UP build-up.

Consider this curious twist in UP reporting: Kinmen, which
is a "classic invasion route" to Formosa, which was used by
General Koxinga as a staging area for attack on Formosa
which is important is brushed off in UP's reports as a sandpit,
is made unimportant!

It is an unpleasant statement to make, but it would be diffi
cult to see how the Kremlin itself could improve upon the

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

manner in which the United Press has handled the news on
Free China. Where battles are measured, not only in casual
ties and ships sunk but also in terms of psychological impact,
the United Press makes the loss of the Ta-chens (which the
Reds can take with ease) important. It then makes the loss
of Kinmen, which will be taken only at great cost, unimpor
tant.

The whole pattern of United Press reporting in the Far
East has been negative and, to say the least, indicative of
peculiar judgment. Rutherford Poats, chief of the UP bureau
in Japan, author of Decision in Korea, published in 1954,
makes this amazing evaluation of the Korean Truce: "We
had reassured the many small and vulnerable nations living
on the periphery of the Communist empire in both Asia and
Europe." And commenting further on the effects of war and
peace in Korea, Mr. Poats states that "We had thrown back
the aggressors, inflicted terrible punishment on all North Ko
rea, more than restored the violated border, and brought the
Korean Republic the greatest security it had ever known.'"

And in final vindication of what every military man of
note considers a defeat, Rutherford Poats writes: "The final
judgment on this question (effect of the war and truce) will
not come from today's statesman or 'expert,' but from the
actions of governments and peoples, particularly Asians, in
choosing between nervous neutralism and boldly anti-Com
munist alignment with the democracies. In the first half year
after the Korean Armistice was signed, the verdict of opin~
ion appeared to be on our side."

Just where does Mr. Poats get the facts to justify such a
roseate outlook? I pass on without comment this statement by
a bitter South Korean newspaperman who said: "The closest
American newspapermen ever get to real Korean problems is
the Korean girls they sleep with at night."

It is strange that the American correspondent, superbly
courageous during battle, willing to take all manner of

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chances, lias become so sloppy, so inaccurate in reporting
the events which produce war. The big magazines, a half
dozen of our largest newspapers, the big news agencies all
have tremendous working staffs in the Far East. Men are
available to seek out the news, to keep ears atuned to the
murmur of coming events. Yet the UP, with a man resident
in Taipei, never sent him to the guerrilla islands. The New
Jork Times, with a half dozen men resident in the Far East,
filed a feature story in the spring of 1954 on the fact that
Chiang Kai Shek was losing the guerrilla islands, one by one.
The story was written in Hong Kong, obviously based upon
sources of information unfriendly to Nationalist China, and
it did not mention a single island that Free China had taken
from the Communists. The man who filed that story could
easily have visited Kinmen or Matsu or the Ta-chens. But
why leave the comfort and luxury of Hong Kong when you
can get all the facts there?

I have already commented on the reporting of Joseph Al-
sop, who also prefers to get his reports from Hong Kong.
When an American newspaperman with unlimited financial
resources reports as Alsop does, it becomes apparent that ob
jectivity has been thrown out completely, that the reporting
is neutral or definitely negative, based upon information pro
vided either by the British or by enemy agents.

While in Formosa a year ago, I met an old friend from
China days, in Taipei to write a story for The Reporter. His
was to be a report on economic progress. How long was he
planning to stay in making his research? Seventy-two hours.
Was he planning to inspect operations of JCRR? After all,
Formosa's economy is based upon agriculture; any report
thereon must consider advances in that field. No, he didn't
have time for that; he couldn't travel outside Taipei.

My friend sensed my amazement and had the good grace
to almost apologize. "But don't worry," he told me. "It will
"be an honest reportno smearing!"

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

Incidentally, an official of JCRR told me that as far as he
could remember only one correspondent, representing a ma
jor American magazine, newspaper or news agency, had ever
visited JCRR activities in the back country, had taken time
to talk to fanners. This was a representative of Time and
Life. The average stay of the American reporter in Formosa
is forty-eight hours. During this time he lives in the swank
Friends of China Club (wired for sound, of course! ) . He sees
nothing of activities outside the capital city, indeed can see
little of what takes place there.

If a Korean or a Japanese or a Chinese newspaperman were
sent to the United States to write an interpretive story on
life in America and spent forty-eight hours, all of it in Wash
ington or New York, he and his newspaper would be damned
by us who enjoy real freedom of the press. Yet almost every
American newspaper and magazine carries stories on the Far
East, based upon that amount of diligent research.

There are men who report honestly on the Far East, who
chronicle events with sympathy. Jim Lucas of the Scripps-
Howard papers, James Michener, Fred Sparks of NEA, Spen
cer Moosa of the Associated Press, Walter Simmons of the
Chicago Tribune, the men of U. S. News and World Report,
generally those who write for Time and Life. But they are
only a handful out of the many who swarm the press clubs
of Asia, who each day file scores of thousands of words of
news.

The greatest single Communist victory in Asia has been
in the use of the printed word in America to cause distrust
of our only and logical allies in Asia. The typical American
writer is proud of his American background, of the demo
cratic way of life we have achieved. With the diligent prod
ding of the native and American fellow travelers, the cor
respondent sees inefficiency and corruption in Asia, all too
often closes his eyes to either the good that is there or to the

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reasons behind the inefficiency and corruption. During the
last days of World War II and during the days of the Mar
shall Mission in China, outright Communists had a large part
to play in corrupting the news.

Vivacious and lovely Kung Peng, called the Communist
public relations officer, was among the most popular Chinese
in Chungking. She was invited to all the parties, was always
available to give "background news." Her counterpart in
Peiping was one Huang Hua, suave and intelligent, a "straight
guy" as one American writer put it. Between them, Huang
Hua and Kung Peng guided the keys on many an American
typewriter. They were Communists, yes, but such nice, hon
est people!

What has happened to these two in the days since Na
tionalist collapse? Huang Hua turned up at both Panmunjom
and at Geneva, a top Communist negotiator, hard as nails,
adept at all the wiles that make negotiating with the enemy
impossible. Kung Peng too was at Geneva, handling press
conferences but no longer the lovely girl of Chungking days.
Years of Communism have filled her face with hard and per
haps bitter lines.

With the assistance of these two excellent operators, helped
along by a few American Communists among the writers,
with our American predisposition to ferret out and write
about that which is evil, Chiang Kai Shek and his govern
ment and, more lately, Syngman Rhee and the ROK's, have
become the most disliked of the world's leaders and govern
ments.

It is almost as if all corruption and evil was indigenous to
the Chinese (Nationalists, that is) and the South Koreans-
had been invented in those countries by special fiat of the
leaders. Thus, in an article entitled "U.S. Backs a Dictator in
Korea," appearing in Pathfinder magazine two years ago, I
read with amazement this indictment of Syngman Rhee:

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

[He] ignored the legally elected National Assembly and
arrested legislators who tried to block him.

Purged the courts of judges and prosecutors who
wouldn't take his orders.

Killed and imprisoned opponents at a rate in excess of
10,000 a month.

Gagged the press and even the Voice of America.

Blocked land reform (foundation of all democracy in
Asia) to win backing of wealthy land owners.

Overspent yearly (despite U.S. aid of $466 million from
1945 to mid-igso ) yet forgot to tax rich backers.

Waged undeclared war "to unify Korea" curbed only
by the U.S. cuts in arms shipments.

The author of this attack concludes with the statement
that "Thus in the eyes of millions of Asiatics, the U.S. occu
pation saddled Korea with a corrupt, oppressive regime. . , ."

The catalogue of crimes committed by Rhee could have
been lifted verbatim, from Radio Peiping. Although I could
refute every charge, I comment on only one point, the charge
that Rhee blocked land reform.

The simple truth is that South Korea, under Syngman
Rhee's leadership, was the first nation in all of Asia to achieve
real democratic land reform. The program has been con
tinued, in spite of war and the natural opposition of land
lords ( a "wealthy landowner" in Korea is anyone who owns
more than four or five acres), until it has almost wiped out
land tenancy in the country. The program has been so effec
tive that it was singled out by the National Planning Asso
ciation in Washington for a special news release in 1953.

But I wonder how many people have read an article in
any leading American magazine about Korean land reform?
How many articles have appeared, anywhere, about the mag
nificent program of land reform in Formosa, or on JCRR?
How often do we read of the development of constitutional

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THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

government, either in Formosa or in Korea? Prior to the be
ginning of the China Coast "vest-pocket war," how many
Americans ever had opportunity to know of accomplishments
on Kinmen Island? How many American magazines have car
ried articles describing the Nationalists' enlightened program
for the Formosan aborigines? Among all the recent attacks
on General Chiang Ching Kuo, eldest son of the Generalis
simo, what magazines noted that the young general has been
responsible for raising the literacy of Free China's troops
from almost nothing to approximately 90 per cent? Where,
other than in General Mark Clark's memoirs, has the mag
nificent story of the Korean partisans and guerrillas been
told?

The average American writer's deep-seated, almost patho
logical hatred of Chiang and Rhee has contributed as much
as has any other single factor to the threatened loss of all
Asia. It is one of the major Communist victories in the Far
East, The pattern has improved, but it still exists, still clouds
the real issues, confuses and divides American thinking on
a whole continent.

During the ten year period in which our friends have been
vilified, our enemies have been praised. Literally scores of
articles have described the wonders of Communist land re
form, the honesty of Communist administrators, the achieve
ments of Communist governors. It is no longer fashionable
to praise the enemy. Instead, our experts write of his "in
vincible strength," imply the inevitability of his victory. We
are told that all Asia distrusts us because we possess and
once used the atomic bomb in Asia. It is explained that Asia
holds us in suspicion because of Senator McCarthy's activi
ties. Gravely it is explained that Asiatics dislike us because
of the way we have treated Negroes in America.

Every possible excuse is found for our predicament and
Asia's predicament but the truth. And a large part of that
truth, as unpleasant as it may be to admit, is that Americans

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

have been victimized by their own writers and publishers
until the truth has been lost in a maze of conflicting, inac
curate, biased and neutral reporting.

Last year I spent a long evening with a Chinese cabinet
minister, a brilliant young man, graduate of one of our mid-
western universities. He spoke of the difficulty his govern
ment had in getting its story told in America. He explained
the situation in judicial terms.

"It has become like your court system," he told me. "Your
judges base decisions upon precedent, the decisions of other
jurists on similar cases, down through the years. Much of
your law goes away back to the precedent of Anglo-Saxon
law, set centuries ago. So it is with Free China, both as far
as your editors are concerned and as far as your State De
partment is concerned. In the case of the former, there is a
vast accumulation of anti-Nationalist reporting that the edi
tor cannot forget, that sways his judgment when he selects
articles. In the case of the latter, policy decisions of your
government, whether it be under a Democratic or a Republi
can administration, are still made upon the basis of the vol
umes of anti-Chiang, anti-Nationalist reports that cram the
State Department files. Every time a decision must be made,
it is necessary to go back into the files, to see what went on
before, to analyze the background. We in Free China will
have a difficult time until the files are put in the archives
and are replaced by new reports."

I had an experience with the editor of one of America's
greatest weeklies which proved the Chinese minister's analy
sis to be correct. I met with him and outlined a story I wanted
to write about the JCRR and Free China's new deal for its
peasants. Hardly had I begun when he interrupted me. "But
everybody knows," he exclaimed, "that all the farmers hate
Chiang Kai Shek!"

Precedent was at work, the ghost of a former editor who
was loudly pro-Chinese Communist, the influence of dozens

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THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

of former pro-Communist contributors, were still so powerful
that the judgment of an editor in 1953 was influenced. The
editor of that magazine had never been to Formosa, of course.
But everybody knows the true story of Chiang Kai Shek; so
why change the story?

Upon the shoulders of scores of American writers, editors
and publishers must be placed much of the blame for Asia's
ferment and America's indecision. There have been too many
"neutral" correspondents, too many who have in complete in
nocence, allowed themselves to become the enemy's mouth
piece. There have been arrogance and laziness and sloppy
reporting, too. But the greatest failure has been failure to
report on Asia in the light of its history, in the light of our
own history.

No matter how facile he may be, no matter how large his
expense account may be, no matter how efficient may be his
communications channels back home, the American writer
who has not read history cannot interpret the present. And
if the total press corps in the Far East reads ten books a
years, other than whodunits and westerns, I would be sur
prised. A study of history will show us that evil and venality
did not originate with Chiang Kai Shek. It will show that
there were events in Indo-China other than French incom
petence that have caused the division of that land.

Reported against the background of Far Eastern history,
the story of Formosa and guerrilla-land, of Syngman Rhee
and his ROK's, become sagas of accomplishment easily un
derstood by Americans who have gone through similar strug
gles to emerge as the most powerful, most truly democratic
nation in the world's history.

283

Chapter 3

THERE was once a prosperous nation stricken by civil
war which came only a few decades after other national
wars had plagued the land. The civil war lasted for
many months, preceded by months of bickering, and efforts
at mediation and conciliation. But once war became inevita
ble, the nation abandoned hopes of settling differences. Other
nations watched the civil war with interest; were wooed for
support; did give some support; for the outcome of the civil
war was of interest to all the civilized world.

The war turned neighbor against neighbor and brother
against brother. Unbelievable corruption added to the prob
lems of both sides. Eighty thousand troops deserted from one
army because there were numerous generals who pocketed
the money given by the minister of war for feeding the troops.
Quartermaster supplies were funneled off by rapacious offi
cers' and sold. Some generals engaged in business on the side,
even traded with the enemy. Desertions became a tremen
dous problem because men were so often forced to fight
without food; the wounded sometimes went without medical
treatment. Even in drugs and medicines there was a brisk
traffic, with army doctors stealing and selling the very sup
plies provided for their wounded.

Civil liberties became a farce on both sides. The minister
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THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

of war for one of the belligerents boasted that he had power
to place anyone in jail, to close down any newspaper, to ar
rest anyone he chose without warrant and to keep him in
jail without judicial recourse. Newspaper correspondents cov
ering the war were jailed, were held under suspicion and in
several cases nearly executed. Lynching and mob rule were
frequent. Vigilance committees were established to ferret out
those with subversive sympathies. On one occasion a Chris
tian minister was hung, without trial, on the merest suspicion
that he was an enemy agent. On another occasion a twenty-
year-old boy was hung as a spy, even though he was a regu
larly enlisted member of the armed forces of the other side.

This civil war occasioned heroic deeds and at the same
time much corruption. One side sent a mission to another
nation, and members of the mission could not account for tens
of thousands of dollars of their government's funds. There
was brisk trading with the enemy, even on the part of gen
erals. Every device to escape conscription, to escape pay
ment of taxes, to get along with both sides, was used.

One side employed a secret police with unlimited powers.
People simply disappeared, suspected persons or those only
vaguely suspected. Victims were placed in bleak confine
ment for weeks or months. Spurious confessions were secured
through physical and mental torture. The head of the dread
secret police was trapped in forgery, was accused of corrup
tion, but his superiors kept him in power. His power became
absolute, to be used for personal advantage and to throw
fear into the hearts of thousands of innocent people.

Discipline among troops was a constant problem for both
sides at first, especially later for the losing side. Looting
could not be controlled. Sometimes what might have become
a great victory was just another battle because the troops
stopped fighting to loot. Straggling and deserting could never
be controlled, even though hundreds of men were executed
as examples. One soldier deserted and traveled through en-

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

emy and friendly territory for over a thousand miles to reach
his home. In later years he wrote a book about his experi
ences, telling of the ease with which he forged passes, hood
winked officers and men. On one occasion he traded a horse
for a special pass.

Civilian support of the war, spirited at first, became pro
gressively less enthusiastic. Citizens refused to pay taxes,
young men did everything possible to escape military service.
Inflation became a tremendous problem, with prices spiral-
ing until the simplest necessities cost a fortune. And all the
while there were hundreds of business men getting rich from
the war, taking advantage of high prices to profit from friend
and enemy alike.

As the weaker side began to lose battles, its leadership
came under constant and sharp criticism. There were de
mands for peace at any price. There were occasions when
generals simply gave up, refused to fight longer. One crucial
battle was lost because the commanding officer of a key unit
was drunk in his tent. Another general became enamored of
a young woman, a spy for the other side, and allowed him
self and his complete staff to be captured.

And so the war, dividing a civilized and prosperous na
tion, dragged on for months and years. Casualties were tre
mendous; economic chaos added to the confusion. Men and
women of both sides became rapacious, lost all human dig
nity in the effort to survive. No complete account was ever
kept of those unjustly imprisoned, those betrayed, executed
without trial. When the war ended, the nation was still split
ideologically, and many years were required for the wounds
to heal. During those years the winning side took advantage
of the loser in many ways. There was oppression, economic
exploitation, liquidation of dissident elements. While con
stitutional government supposedly extended to all the land,
victor and vanquished alike, there was widespread political
corruption. Elections were conducted dishonestly.

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Political favoritism was rampant. It was many years before
decency again prevailed.

This certainly seems an accurate description of the years
of China's civil war between Nationalist and Communist,
does it not? However, the conditions and events I have de
scribed above took place, not In China, but in the United
States of America. During our own civil war, just ninety years
ago, every evil ever attributed to Chiang Kai Shek or Syng-
man Rhee or any other leader in Asia was found right here
in the United States.

We who now pass judgment on peoples and leaders of
other nations passed through the same stages of chaos before
achieving our present vaunted stability and democracy. The
chaos and corruption I have described is not a product of my
imagination but has been culled from the books of a three-
year period, written by some of America's most respected
contemporary historians and authors.

What I have written of the civil war period can be ampli
fied to other eras in our history. The struggle to develop Okla
homa, our youngest state, is another excellent example of the
trials and tribulations of American democratic development.
For in Oklahoma Territory there was thievery, political she
nanigans, land stealing, bilking of the Indians that would
even put Governor Chen Yf s exploitation of Formosa in 1946
to shame.

In the history of Kansas Territory, the struggle between
anti- and pro-slavery elements just prior to the Civil War,
we can also find all the evils ever attributed to any Asiatic
leader. Kansas was ruled by gun and stolen ballot; a com
pletely illegal government was installed and kept in power;
men in opposition were ruthlessly murdered or imprisoned.
A secret society flourished and held the people enslaved in a
reign of fear and terror.

We can find similar stories in almost every section of the
United States of the last century. Fort Worth, Texas, a great

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

md rich city, might now be a sleepy country village or even
lave ceased to exist had it not been for a cleverly managed
/ote fraud. Fort Worth became a county seat, emerged as a
>eat of government and trade, only because its residents stole
:he election in which the seat of government was decided,
[llegal voters were brought in from a distant county by the
jcore, their votes bought with money and liquor, and the
opposition was thus swamped.

In a previous chapter I mentioned the treatment of the
Cherokee Indians in Tennessee, a once great tribe forced into
3xile by Andrew Jackson in violation of solemn treaty. But
\ndrew Jackson was not alone in defrauding the Indians. The
tiistory of relations between whites and Indians is a story of
Fraud, stealing, dishonesty and broken treaties. It is a story
that might be read and studied by all Americans with profit.
For it too, shows how far we have traveled along the road to
decent government and rule by law and order. Almost every
treaty made with the Southern Indians during the first quar
ter of the nineteenth century was broken. Hundreds of In
dians were massacred in cold blood. Thousands and millions
of acres of land, legally owned by the Indians, were stolen
from them. When the Supreme Court of the United States
attempted to interfere, its decisions were flaunted. Andrew
[ackson himself dared the Supreme Court to implement its
decisions.

During the nineteenth century and even before, men in
high places in America were frequently dishonest. Land spec
ulation and land stealing were commonplace, engaged in by
governors and senators. There were conspiracies to sell out
^oung America to foreign countries, open trafficking with
ilien powers. William Blount, territorial governor of Tennes-
>ee, later that state's first senator, was expelled from the Sen-
ite of the United States because he sought to sell out his
country to the British.

Stability and democracy in government did not develop in

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tte United States overnight, cannot develop in any land over
night. After one hundred and eighty years of the world's
most successful democratic government, America is still im
perfect. There is not a month passes that somewhere in our
land corruption does not appear. Elections are still stolen,
men in high places are still frequently dishonest, tax frauds
are still uncovered, men and women still attempt to sell out
their country, legislators can still be bought.

My first job after graduation from college was with the
state government of Tennessee. That was but twenty years
ago. I was idealistic, for I had studied American history as it
is generally written, had no conception of the imperfections
that still existed. I lasted exactly one year in my first job, for
when a superior demanded a tremendous salary kick-back, I
indignantly refused to pay up. I was fired, and when I sought
to tell my story I found that no one would listen. Thousands
of dollars were taken in by the department where I worked,
but there was no system whereby the public's money could
be accounted for, no supervised system of bookkeeping, no
budgetary checks. It was possible to steal thousands of dol
lars of public money, and thousands of dollars were stolen
each year. And that was just twenty years ago.

Communism's greatest victory in Asia has not been
achieved by force of arms. It has been achieved because
Americans, not knowing of their own history, have expected
China and Korea and the Philippines and Thailand to auto
matically become stable democracies. The Communists have
cleverly played upon American idealism, cleverly exploited
American ignorance, to turn us against the very leaders who
are our logical and only allies. The honesty and incorrupti
bility of Communist officials (achieved, of course, through
fear and police state methods ) have been cleverly compared
with the chaos and supposed corruption of the Chiangs and
the Rhees.

In March, 1946, 1 visited Chungking, China, as an inspec-

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tor for the Department o State's information and cultural
program. Chungking was still China's capital, the move back
to Nanking being only then in progress. The evening of my
arrival was spent at the home of charming Kung Peng, the
same Kung Peng who handled Communist press conferences
at Geneva in 1954. It was considered so important that I meet
and talk with Kung Peng that I was literally whisked from
the airport to her house. There were a number of Americans
present that night, all officials of the American Embassy.

Miss Kung Peng was at her charming best as she told of
her hopes for her people. China must have democracy just
like America. There must be a decent deal for all. The free
doms enjoyed by Americans must also be enjoyed by Chi
nese. Her American audience sat enthralled as Kung Peng
described the activities, the plans, the hopes of the Com
munists, as she told how real, honest-to-goodness democracy
had been developed in Communist-controlled territory.

All through the years from 1945 until Chiang's collapse in
1949, Kung Peng's cleverly portrayed vision of hope for Asia
colored the judgment of American diplomats and American
writers. Beginning even in 1944 it became fashionable to
journey to Yenan, Communist capital in the loess hills of
China's Northwest, to see the great new experiment in de
mocracy.

In Washington those who had made the pilgrimage were
used to give lectures and indoctrination to employees and
officials of the Office of War Information and the Depart
ment of State who had not themselves been privileged to go
to Mecca.

Publishers began to vie with one another in publishing
books and articles about the new democracy that had come
to Asia. The flood of books had even begun several years
earlier and continued unabated. The titles were exciting and
provocative: Battles for Asia, Unfinished Revolution in China,
Thunder out of China, People on Our Side, Challenge of Red
China.

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An article in the Saturday Evening Post described Com
munist General Chu Teh as having "the kindliness of Robert
E. Lee, the tenacity of Grant, and the humility of Lincoln/'
In a 1944 article on China in Colliers, the solution for
China's misery was clearly set forth, including "immediate
political reforms, including the democratization of the gov
ernment."

There we can see clearly the trap into which we fell. What
had required generations for America to accomplish as yet
imperfectly, China was required to do "immediately"!

During this period I sat on several of the Department of
State's "country committees." These were the committees of
political and economic experts, set up to develop an Ameri
can policy and plan for every nation in the world. It is inter
esting to look back, to see how naive we were. For every
country policy statement was drafted with complete disre
gard for a nation's traditions and history. We always began
those weighty pronouncements with a phrase about "democ
racy and freedom." Nations which were to receive our sup
port must be "independent, united, free and democratic."

It was heady business indeed, grafting democracy into the
body politic of nations still at war or floundering midst the
traditions and thought and economic conditions of the mid
dle ages. If a nation's leadership was not responding quicHy
enough, it was the function of the information agencies to
send out some critical material for use by that nation's news
papers.

Thus it was official policy to search the American press, the
magazines, the book lists for criticisms of Chiang Kai Shek
and Nationalist China, to include the criticisms in a special
"Editorial Comment" that was radioed to China and then
distributed to all Chinese newspapers by the U. S. Informa
tion Service. With criticism and continual needling, we hoped
to force China to vault across decades, to skip all the painful
years of growing and learning we ourselves had endured.
All over Asia we began to establish wonderful American

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

libraries. There were pro-Communist books by the score in
those early days. But just as damaging were the completely
American books, the glowing accounts of America at its best,
glossed-over histories, bright novels, anthologies. For by read
ing of democracy, people obviously would become demo
crats.

It was then too that we began to save the world by bring
ing more thousands of foreign students to America to study,
to savor at first hand of our greatness. From China, Korea,
Japan, the Philippines, from every nation in Asia they came,
to study in American universities, to visit Washington, to
study the Tennessee Valley Authority by the scores and by
the thousands.

And then the students returned to their own lands, to find
chaos and misery and little opportunity to use their new
knowledge. For before TVA's can be built, there must be
more roads and railroads. Before modern agricultural meth
ods are accepted, ancient superstitions must be patiently con
quered. Before progressive education methods learned at
Columbia Teachers' College can be transplanted to China or
Korea, there must be tremendous changes in the traditional
teaching of centuries. Before people can intelligently vote
and thus produce constitutional government, they must be
come literate.

So it was that the returned students themselves frequently
became a disrupting source. No one had ever explained to
them that the democracy they saw in America did not de
velop overnight. No one had ever explained that our develop
ment had been spotted with corruption and graft and greed.
I doubt if any foreign student has ever been told that some
80,000 American soldiers of the Federal Army of the Potomac
deserted because dishonest generals pocketed the money pro
vided to feed and clothe the troops.

Faced with the unpleasant facts of life in his homeland,
the foreign trained student became easy prey for the Com-

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munists who promised an easy short cut to Utopia. It need
not have been so, but the unpleasant truth is that the United
States has contributed scores and hundreds of men and
women to the Communist cause through our well meaning
exchange of students program.

For a quarter of a century the Communists have cleverly
exploited our failure to understand the lessons of our own
history. With the assistance of a few renegade Americans
and scores of idealistic but naive writers and diplomats and
economic experts, they have blinded us to the problems of a
whole continent, have established that massive body of prec
edent that still shackles our diplomats and our editors.

And still the blindness prevails. In 1950, I watched the
reporting of a New York newspaper correspondent in Korea,
saw him assiduously dig out every disreputable aspect of
Korean government, all with complete disregard of Korea's
history, thus proving how the United States was supporting
a reactionary government.

In 1954, 1 read an article in The New Leader, condemning
the government of Thailand, a weak nation that now stands
between the Communists and the rest of Southeast Asia, be
cause that nation had not as yet allowed the development of
labor unions in the image of organized labor in America, I
heard Syngman Rhee roundly denounced as a dictator a
month before the Communist invasion because the laborers
of his land, faced even then with civil war and sabotage, did
not have all the rights of collective bargaining American
laborers enjoy after nearly two hundred years of struggle.

For five years we have read only of French inefficiency in
Indo-China, have blamed the debacle there on the French
without an understanding either of the good they did or of
the history of the people they ruled. Writing in Report on
IndchChina, Bernard Newman includes a chapter entitled
"Honour Where Due" in which he shows what France did
for its colonial subject. In answer to France's critics, New-

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

man writes: "Neither the French nor any other foreigners
can give a soul to the Vietnamese army, or to any other or
ganization. The point is important the French can supply
rifles to the army and ploughs for the rice fields, but nothing
they do will touch the soul of Vietnam. This is a task for the
Vietnamese alone/'

Again, commenting upon the lack of democracy in Indo-
China ( generally attributed to the French, of course ) , New
man writes: "The fact is, of course, that democracy, while
the most satisfying political system, is the most difficult. It
demands restraints and common endeavours not always en
countered in states which have adopted some new ideas and
are rushing them forward in incomplete comprehension. De
mocracy thrives on traditions and local traditions . . . are
not democratic."

Sun Yat Sen understood that democracy must not be al
lowed to sprout up like a vast crop of untended weeds. He
prescribed a period of "political tutelage" during which those
traditions which Mr. Newman points out are absent, can be
developed, a period when the illiterate can become literate
and through that literacy begin to understand the world in
which they live.

Any period of political learning is a period of great dan
ger. Always there will be leaders who seek to perpetuate that
learning period so that they may maintain personal power.
Always there will be the lure of short cuts, offered by schem
ing Communists and naive, do-gooding Americans alike. But
stability and democracy cannot be achieved by short cuts;
and the sooner we learn that lesson, the better equipped we
shall become to help the backward nations.

Only one nation in the Far East has ever achieved stability
of government in the Western sense. Japan became stable
and powerful. But the stability was not accompanied by de
mocracy, was achieved through religious fanaticism and po
lice control. The stability was paralleled by imperialistic am-

THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

bition which, in time shattered all the countries of Eastern
Asia. We are still paying for that power-secured stability. We
have replaced it with democracy and are learning unhappily
that a few years of political tutelage under an American mili
tary occupation may not have been enough. For democracy,
too quickly achieved, without tradition and understanding,
can be an explosive and disruptive force.

If we are to help Asia out of its chaos and ferment, we
must understand that generations may be required before
nations are governed as we today are governed. We must un
derstand that periods of political learning, dangerous to be
sure, are a necessity, and that during such periods strong,
personal leadership is a necessity. Instead of continually criti
cizing, we must understand that we ourselves went through
generations of trial and error and still are not perfect. We
must admit that every sin of omission and commission
ascribed to Chiang Kai Shek and Syngman Rhee can be
found either in contemporary American political life or in
our past. We must be willing to understand that not all na
tions need our brand of democracy, that some nations will
not be able to achieve stability for years, and all the technical
aid we give will not materially hasten the process.

The peoples of Asia, South America, Africa have far more
pressing needs than freedom of speech or the right to col
lective bargaining. Achieved too quickly, such basic rights
as we take for granted can only result in chaos.

The great challenge to what we call the Democratic World
lies in understanding these factors, in helping peoples through
the dangerous periods of learning that are inevitable. It is a
challenge as yet not met or even understood. The Commu
nist world, with an able assist from American writers and
publishers, has offered an enticing and dazzling short cut.
More and more of the young men and women who flounder
midst confusion and chaos are choosing the short cut.

The writer who blindly and continually criticizes Free

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

China or Korea or Thailand's leadership as it travels along
the slow and painful road that must be followed contributes
to the decisions of those who take the shorter path. Censor
ship of press and magazine and book in America is of course,
intolerable. But somehow the publishers of our nation must
understand the totality of Asia's war, must realize the use to
which American writing is often put, must admit their con
tribution to Asia's plight. The glib young journalist, fresh
from school, sent forth to Korea or Japan without the slight
est background in either American or Oriental history, can
become a potent Communist ally. I can name a score of Amer
ican writers and a half dozen American newspapers and
magazines that have contributed more to the Red conquest
of China than has Russia.

If Asia is to be saved, unpleasant truths must be faced, old
ideas abandoned. Perhaps I can illustrate the strangeness of
the battle we face with two stories, one from Formosa, one
from Korea.

Last year while I was in Formosa, the leading Chinese
newspaper of Taipei, the "New York Times" of Free China,
carried a picture and a story that would be in shockingly bad
taste in the newspapers of any Western nation, would prob
ably result in criminal prosecution. The picture accompany
ing the story showed a Chinese peasant woman, her skirts
lifted high, her husband forced to practice upon her what
we legalistically call in America a "pervert act." Around the
pair stood Communist officials, watching in sadistic delight.
The text explained that a dispossessed landlord and wife were
being punished for their misdeeds. American residents of
Taipei eagerly bought up that issue in which picture and
story appeared. But most of the purchases were for the pur
pose of adding to pornographic collections. Few were the
Americans who understood the implications of all-out war,
of cultural change and ferment, of the vast chasm that sepa
rates America in its position of wealth and security from

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THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

much of the rest of the world. Yet the Adlai Stevensons and
Estes Kefauvers and Theodore Whites tell us that all the
world distrusts and dislikes us because one U. S. Senator
hunts Communists with too much vigor. Editors, radio com
mentators moan and groan because we attempt to legally
circumscribe and condemn the very men and women who
have brought sorrow to a third of the world. Can it be any
wonder that Free Asia is confused, wonders just what Amer
ica does stand for?

My other story comes from Pusan, Korea, where I sat one
afternoon looking out over the lovely harbor. With me was
a young Korean, frightened and bewildered, bitter too. Like
my friend Mr. Pak, he too was disillusioned about his govern
ment and his leadership; for he had spent two years in Amer
ica and expected to transplant American democracy to his
homeland overnight. I tried to give my friend hope by telling
him a bit of American history, by describing in particular
our own civil war period of chaos. For an hour I talked, ex
hausting my knowledge of America's history. And as I talked,
I could sense relaxation and hope coursing through the young
Korean. When we parted that afternoon, the Korean almost
begged me to do him a favor.

"Mr. Caldwell, when you get back to America," he said,
"won't you send me an honest, unvarnished American his
tory? You have told me things I never learned in America.
I have never known the struggles you went through. There
are many of us who could get hope from such a book."

There are American libraries in every nation, in almost
every major city in the world, yet as far as I know none carry
such a book.

297

Chapter 4

THE colonel was tired, almost sullen. It was his last day
in the Far East and we had met, purely by chance, at
a Chinese dinner party in Tokyo's Giriza district. The
colonel was not a great admirer of Syngman Rhee, nor was
he even what the American GI's term a "Gook lover," or one
who thinks well of the Korean people.

It was his wife who told me the colonel had spent eight
months as a member of the American negotiating team at
Panmunjom, that his tour was over and they were returning
to their California home on next morning's troop ship.

He was an. Air Force man, a believer in the ships of his
trade. He warmed slowly; but before evening's end he was
talking vehemently of lost chances, of victory that might
have been, of truce terms that could have been so much bet
ter, had America listened to the warnings of a wrinkled old
revolutionist. The colonel blamed the truce terms, perhaps
without justification, upon the Department of State.

"Each day," he told me, "those people in Washington
would tell us exactly what to say the next day. Their direc
tions even extended to what words should be used. Some-

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THE FAB EAST IN FERMENT

times we would have an issue settled, we would know the
Communists were giving in. Then would come word from
Washington to ^explore' such and such a point further."

Then the colonel became angry. "Why anyone should know
what happens when we start "exploring' further/ 5 he almost
shouted. "They see we are wavering, have not made up our
minds. The gains of a week, a month may be lost. Time after
time we had to back off from hard won points, had to begin
all over again, had even to give in."

I was interested in all of the colonel's story. I know not
whether his blame of the Department of State is justified. I
was more interested in what he, as an intelligent American,
would have done, had he had power to make the final deci
sions. I asked him.

"I'll tell you exactly what I would have done," he answered
quickly. "I would have given the Communist exactly twenty-
four hours to come to our terms. Maybe those terms would
have been complete removal of Chinese Communist volun
teer forces from Korean soil. That is not the important point.
I would have made it clear that if our terms, whatever they
were, were not met within the time limit, our air force would
go into action. We would bomb the airfields across the Yalu,
the manufacturing centers of Manchuria. If there was still
hesitation, we would hit Peiping, then Hankow, Shanghai.
We would use every weapon at our command."

The colonel then calmed down a little as he continued. "Of
course they would have come to terms," he concluded. "That
would have been the language they understand. Then we
could have gone ahead and given the damn country back to
the Koreans for Syngman Rhee or anyone else to rule or
ruin."

I imagine Syngman Rhee would have liked the colonel.
His angry words reminded me of the words of many Ko
reans, of the man who told me that there was no hope for
his generation, that for his children there would be hope

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

only because the children were going to college in America
and would therefore escape the holocaust. I was reminded
too, of the writers who sagely tell us that America is distrust
ed in Asia because we have used the atom bomb, because we
imply by our atomic program that we may use it again. The
colonel was actually speaking for most of Eastern Asia, at
least for non-Communist and anti-Communist Asia. He ob
viously would be a poor representative of the Nehru view.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the colonel's ideas will prob
ably never be accepted by America. Or if acceptance comes,
it will be after many more diplomatic defeats. For the pres
ent our colonel's program is out because America's European
allies would never agree to it, because so many Americans
too, have been captivated by the lure of "co-existence." The
fact that we could have won a victory is becoming academic,
but it might still be worthwhile to remind ourselves of those
who have in recent months clearly restated the facts. Of
course, the views of General MacArthur are well known, but
have again been forcefully restated in the book MacArthur
1941-51 by Major General Charles A. Willoughby and John
Chamberlain. General James Van Fleet, too, has restated his
views, has recently commented in detail on the folly of the
Korean Truce, on the fact that Asia can still be saved if we
will allow the fighting men of Free Asia to do the saving.
General Claire Chennault, of World War II fame, now head
of the Civil Air Transport, has made his position clear and
has added the interesting idea of a volunteer anti-Communist
force in Asia, patterned after his famed Flying Tigers. Gen
eral George Stratemeyer, who commanded our air forces in
Korea and, before that, in China, has added his testimony to
that of MacArthur, Van Fleet, Chennault.

It has always been an interesting point to me that the mili
tary leaders who were most successful in Asia, who were best
liked, who were able to inspire confidence on the part of

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Koreans and Chinese, are all in agreement that the Korean
war could have been won, and more important, that we can
still win in Asia.

On the other hand, balanced against the judgment of these
men who inspire leadership, is that of the men who either
have been failures in Asia or without experience there. Thus
it was George Marshall and Omar Bradley, one a Far East
ern failure, the other completely without experience in Asia,
whose military judgment has been followed in the Far East
while the pleas of the MacArthurs and the Van Fleets and
the Wedemeyers have been ignored.

A Korean official commented on this fact one day, saying,
"It appears to us that any outstanding American leader who
believes democracy can win in Asia, who begins to respect
the Koreans or the Free Chinese, who can work with us, im
mediately loses favor in the United States, becomes another
one of your voices in the wilderness."

Among the oriental proverbs there is none that is more
applicable to the mess in Asia than the old Korean saying
that, "When a man slips and falls into a stream, it is foolish
to blame the stream."

It certainly is time to quit blaming Chiang Kai Shek and
Nationalist China for Asia's continuing crisis. It is foolish to
blame the Koreans as a people or individually, We slipped
upon the slimy mud of Communist intrigue and treachery.
Except as a lesson for the future, it is pointless now to con
tinually blame individuals, who through treachery or mis-
judgment, supplied the push that landed us in the river. We
are there; the problem is to get out.

Getting out of a Korean river is easier said than done. I
well remember a duck hunting trip on the Han River below
Seoul. My companions and I were in an Air Force surplus
rubber boat, a handy craft for negotiating the muddy Han,
The mud banks seemed safe, and two of us got out to take a

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

short cut. We hoped to thus surround a flock of mallards,
two of us by land, one by water.

I was in the lead when I began to sink deeper and deeper
into the mud. My companion came to help, and he too went
in faster because he was a heavy man. We were both up to
our waists when the man in the boat got to us, close enough
to reach us with an oar. Then we slowly edged out of the
sucking, sticking mud. Clinging to the oar, it was possible
to slowly reach a horizontal position, to at last get clear of
the danger. It was a frightening experience and a thoroughly
dirty one. We were saved by a combination of circumstances.
We were not alone. Had anyone of us gotten into the mud
alone, the outcome would have been different. There were
two of us in the mud and being together, we did not lose our
heads, did not give in to hysteria. Then too, there was a man
in the boat, and the oar.

In the Far Eastern river we Americans are not alone, and
there are oars and other props to help us, But we must some
how learn to recognize the help that is available.

I have written little of Japan, even though it is itself an ulti
mate Communist goal in Asia. With Japan's industrial know-
how, the Communist empire would approach sufficiency. I
have written little of Southeast Asia, more important by far
than Korea, for with Southeast Asia's rice and mineral re
sources, Red China can quit worrying about floods and fam
ine. Japan and Southeast Asia are far more important than
Korea or Formosa. But in terms of Asia's salvation, both
Southeast Asia and Japan must be disregarded; neither one
can be considered the prop or the oar to extricate us from
the mess.

If Asia is to remain free, Communist China's advance must
not only be stopped. That much is obvious, and we seek half
heartedly to develop a roadblock through the organization
of SEATO. But if Asia is to remain free, China must, in the

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words of the American diplomat in Taipei, "become friendly."
Communist China will never be defeated (and therein lies
the only solution) by rearming Japan or attempting to bind
together the weak nations of Southeast Asia. Of what earthly
value is backward Thailand, without a military tradition, its
well-fed people completely unaware of the menace of Com
munism? Or the Philippines., isolated, with tremendous in
ternal problems that must be solved? Or the divided French
and the trade-minded, co-existence-dazzled British? Can any
one expect wobbly Japan, suffering the indigestion of too
much democracy too quickly administered, to play an active
role in keeping Asia free?

It has become fashionable to write off Asia, in terms of the
white man's defeat. "The white man is finished in Asia," or
"The white man is hated," we are told. Writing in Human
Events, Caret Garrett stated that Communism is winning
Asia because it holds out three things: the sweet taste of re
venge (against the "'hated" white man), nationalistic inde
pendence and expulsion of the white man from Asia.

In my opinion, Mr. Garrett over-simplifies the problem
and is a bit off course. I have never seen evidence of hatred
of the white man any place in Asia. Everywhere I have seen
evidence of loss of faith, but revenge and the hope of ex
pelling the white man play little part in the picture.

The white man is certainly on his way out, a matter of little
importance in itself. But with the white man s exit will also
go the foundations of democracy and decency that have been
built over the centuries. In the final analysis, more Asians will
remember the good works of America than will "hate" Amer
ica because of our supposed support of colonialism.

But Asia is losing faith in America, of that there can be no
doubt. For a century America lent a helping hand to the
people of Asia. We, more than anyone else, built what foun
dations of decency exist. We, our churches, our foundations,

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

even our government itself through such activities as the
Boxer Fund, laid the foundations for the educational systems,
for medical facilities. It was America that supplied the vision
of better government that guided Sun Yat Sen and Syngman
Rhee and countless less important people in a half dozen
lands. It was a confused vision at times, but it was the first
real brightness to penetrate Asia's shadows. And if today we
and our influence are on the way out, it is because we have
refused to go the second mile.

When the chips were down, we have refused to help. To
day we refuse to commit ourselves to those who can keep a
continent free. After providing the incentive, after laying a
bit of foundation, after making numerous pledges, we refuse
to hold out hope to the Tommy Hsus, the Allen Yehs, the
Kim Man Gus of Asia.

The tremendous change and confusion can be illustrated
by an occurrence that took place in Shanghai in 1949, soon
after the Communists occupied the city. Dr. Leighton Stuart,
last U.S. ambassador to the China mainland, tells the story
in his memoirs, Fifty Jears in China. There were two for
eign-owned newspapers which attempted to carry on after
Communist "liberation." The "North China Daily News was
British-owned, the Shanghai Evening Post and Mercury was
American-owned.

Both papers soon got neck-deep in Communist-brewed hot
water. The British paper ran a story about mines in the
Yangtse River. Shanghai depends on sea-borne and river-
borne commerce, and the story caused fear, actually par
alyzed shipping. Meanwhile, Randall Gould, editor of the
American paper, was having his troubles, Using a typical
Communist technique, all of the Evening Post and Mercury
employees had demanded tremendous wage increases and
had locked the paper's business manager up until the increase
was granted.

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THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

A British and an American editor were in trouble with the
Communists, the one over a news story, the other because of
a Communist-inspired wage dispute. The British editor ex
tricated himself in a typically British manner, while Randall
Gould's actions were of the type that have long inspired
Asiatic respect for America.

The Britisher ran a page one, bilingual, apology, The apol
ogy was abject, humble and sincere, expressing hopes that
the Communist military authorities would forgive and forget.

Randall Gould meanwhile went to his newspaper office,
knowing that he too would be locked up by the employees.
He was locked up, but he stood by his guns until a reasonable
solution to the wage demands could be worked out. And
then, since the dispute was newsworthy, Gould wrote a fac
tual story describing what took place. When the paper's type
setters discovered the story, they went on strike. Randall
Gould considered this Communist-inspired action intoler
able interference with the freedom of the press, Rather than
knuckle under, he closed down the Evening Post and Mer
cury.

There was one other American editor who stayed on. His
publication, originally a weekly and later a monthly, had
been an American fixture in Shanghai for years. The China
Weekly Review, published for years by J. B. Powell, crusad
ing editor in the best American tradition, had been a voice
heard all along the China Coast and far inland. J. B. Powell
was imprisoned by the Japanese, so tortured and broken in
health that he died soon after the end of the war.

His son, John William Powell, better known as Bill, re
turned to Shanghai to reestablish the China Review. And
like Randall Gould, Bill Powell stayed on after Communist
"liberation/* But he chose a path even different from that
chosen by Gould or the British editor. Bill began to openly
collaborate with the Communists, made the Review into a

35

STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

viciously anti-American publication filled with denunciations
of America and stories of American troop brutality.

Repatriated American POW's report that Powell's maga
zine was must reading in all the prison camps, was used as
a brain-washing textbook. For four years Bill Powell thus
collaborated with the Communists and has been character
ized by returned prisoners as a "murderer." In 1953, Bill chose
suddenly to quit Shanghai, returning to America at the same
time some 3,ooo-odd repatriated American POW's were re
turning.

Since his return Powell has been a witness before the Sen
ate Internal Security Subcommittee, during which time he
has taken refuge behind the Fifth Amendment fifty-three
times.

Thus three newspaper editors chose three different ways
to meet the challenge of Communism.

The Englishman chose co-existence. It did not do him a
great deal of good, for no number of apologies saved his
newspaper from either moral or actual extinction.

Bill Powell, son of a crusading American editor, chose col
laboration. His paper too, is dead now; and Bill Powell leads
a lonely life, branded as a "murderer," suspected by his gov
ernment and his f ellowmen,

Randall Gould chose to put moral issues above all else.
He fought for what was right and went out of business when
it became obvious that to continue in business he would have
to forget moral principle.

Of the three editors, two Americans and one Englishman,
only one can today walk among his fellowmen, head high,
conscience clear.

The tragedy of America in Asia today is that Americans
now infrequently follow the course set by Randall Gould.
And the people of Asia who are on our side are losing faith.
For they have learned the futility of compromise, they know

306

THE FAR EAST IN FERMENT

that man cannot serve God and Mammon too, that it is but
a short step from co-existence to collaboration.

It would be foolish to write optimistically of the future in
Asia. The men of good will, the dreamers, those who have
not given up, could prevail if we would but give them hope
and renewed faith. But the sands are running out. A year or
two more, perhaps, and Asia will be lost, to sink into a dark
ness that may last for generations. The tragedy will not lie
in the fact that the white man will be driven out. Rather it
will be in the fact that the good works, the moral principles
which the white man brought along with his evils, will also
be submerged and lost.

Those I have called the "lost Christians" will be truly lost.
Chai Nam Soon who walked down the valley of death with
a little brother strapped upon her back will again walk into
the shadow of death. Tommy Hsu's dreams will end in night
mare. Captain Chang on Tungting Island will be engulfed
without a ripple. For Tungting is such a small place, long
unnoticed by the world we proudly call Christian.

A "heathen" Chinese, by his own admission, has written
what well may be Asia's epitaph as far as America is con
cerned. Dr. Hu Shih, one-time President of National Pe
king University, one-time Chinese Ambassador to the United
States, now at Princeton University, wrote an introduction
to Dr. J. Leighton Stuart's memoirs, Fifty Years in China.
Dr. Hu Shih wrote:

"When in 1949 I read Secretary Dean Acheson's Letter of
Transmittal of the China White Paper' and came to these
sentences: *. . . the ominous result of the civil war in China
was beyond the control of the government of the United
States. Nothing that this country did or could have done
within the reasonable limits of its capabilities could have
changed that result; nothing that was left undone by this
country has contributed to it.' when I read those sentences

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STILL THE RICE GROWS GREEN

I wrote on the margin: "Mathew 27:24.' This is the text:

When Pilate saw that he could prevail nothing,
but that a tumult was made, he took water, and
washed his hands before the multitude, saying,
I am innocent of the blood of this just man: see
ye to it."

308

TAIWAN

(FORMOSA)

NATIONALIST ISLANDS

OFF THE COAST.OF CHINA

RED CHINA
| I NATIONALIST CHINA

Facts About Formosa

AREA: 13,886 square miles or approximately the combined area
of Connecticut) Delaware and New Jersey. There are fourteen is
lands in the Formosa group, and sixty-four islands in the Penghu
or Pescadore group.

POPULATION: Between 9,000,000 and 10,000,000, including
military., and including several distinct population groups among
which are the following:

1) 150,000 non-Chinese aborigines, comprising eight groups of
tribes., of Indonesian stock, who were living on Formosa when the
Chinese arrived.

2) 1,000,000 Hakkas, descendents of immigrants from North
China who first settled on the South China Coast then moved on
to Formosa beginning some 400 years ago. They speak their own
dialect and have retained a vigorous individualism as indicated by
the fact that they resisted the Japanese bitterly.

3) 5,000,000 to 6,000,000 Hoklos, who came to Formosa be
tween 200 and 400 years ago from the coast of neighboring Fukien
Province. They speak the Amoy dialect of Fukien Province.

4 ) 200,000 Cantonese who settled principally in South Formosa.
(Note: in the year 1600 it is estimated there were only 25,000
Chinese on the island.)

5) The rest of the population consists of "mainlanders" who
have come to Formosa since the end of World War II and espe
cially since the Communists took over on the mainland. These new
arrivals come from every province of the mainland.

TERRAIN: Two-thirds of the island is mountainous, with forty-
two per cent of the surface over 1,640 feet in elevation. Seventy-
seven peaks exceed 10,000 feet in height. Only twenty-three per
cent of the land is cultivated and this lies along the western coastal
plain and in a narrow strip along the east coast. Jungles and forests
cover two-thirds of the island. Lowland climate is tropical to semi-
tropical.

3"

AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTION: Formosa is one of the most
fertile agricultural regions in the world. In 1953 the rice crop
totaled 1,640,000 metric tons, highest in island history and pro
viding an important export. Production of sugar in 1953 totaled
nearly 900,000 tons, which also provided an important export, top
foreign exchange earner with an income of nearly $70,000,000.
Other important crops are pineapples, tea, bananas, citrus fruits,
sweet potatoes and peanuts.

TWO OTHER FACTS TO REMEMBER:

1) Nationalist China controlled, as of late 1954, approximately
50 islands off the China coast. Total area probably approximately
1000 square miles, civilian population 65,000.

2) In spite of Communist pressure, most overseas Chinese will
give allegiance to Free China. The principal overseas populations
are as follows:

Thailand 3,500,000

Malaya 2,043,971

Hong Kong 2,000,000

Indonesia 1,600,000

Singapore 807,000

Vietnam and Cambodia . . 1,200,000

Philippines 141,000

North Borneo 220,000

Burma 360,000

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