Chapter 14

RETURN TO PEKING

After the first group of internees was repatriated, it was 19 long days before word came that we could leave camp. On October 14 we boarded Japanese military trucks for a four-mile ride to the newly constructed airstrip. Since the Chinese Communist Eighth Army had blown up railway bridges we would be airlifted to Peking rather than traveling by train. Our dear friends, Miss Mary Scott and Mr. Marcy Ditmanson, were also returning to Peking and again would live in OMS quarters since neither of their mission groups had work or housing in that area. We had left our Peking compound for Weihsien, a group of 17, and now 5 of us (counting Sandra) were heading back. What emotions surged through us as we made our final exit through the main gate of the "Courtyard of the Happy Way." We left camp with a small amount of luggage, far less than we had brought in, even though now there were some articles of clothing the U.S. military had given me. But no matter, our hearts were singing, as Martin Luther King, Jr. later expressed, "Free at last! Free at last!"

I thought of Psalm 126:1-3. Never, surely in our life-time, were those words more appropriate. It was as though they were written specifically for us: "When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion we were like them that dream."

On the tarmac we found a C-46 plane waiting for us, still wearing its olive-green and khaki-brown camouflage. Inside, canvas bucket seats were situated in long, uncomfortable rows along the sides of the plane. Our pilot took a special interest in Sandra, now almost five years old. After takeoff he invited her into the cockpit, and she spent much of the flight in his lap. In two short hours we were landing in Peking. What a contrast to that excruciating night-long journey (and into most of the next day) which had taken us, as captives, from Peking to Weihsien. Back in our "hometown" we felt as free as newly released birds.

On the ground, U.S. Marines were in charge and arranged a convoy of trucks for our transportation. In a remarkable turnabout the Japanese, who so recently were our masters, were now cast in the roles of coolies, wearing tattered uniforms and handling our baggage. As the procession turned onto the wide Ha Ta Men Street, throngs of Chinese lined both sides of the intersection. With their right hands raised and thumbs extended they screamed, "Ting Hao! Ting Hao!" (number one, the very best).

--- Some months later while traveling in our car near Pittsburgh, we saw two hitchhikers beside the road with thumbs raised. Sandra looked at them carefully and then said, "Oh Daddy, look. Look at those 'Merican guys saying, `Ting Hao.' "

The word spread quickly through the Chinese communities that the Americans were back. When we returned to the compound our old gate man, Lao Ting, was there to welcome us and resume his job. Our faithful cook, Sung Shih Fu, had survived the war and greeted us with a big smile, ready to return to his kitchen duties. While we were in Weihsien he had found a part-time job with the railroad. One Christmas he was given a tin of pineapple as a gift from his boss. This he carefully stowed away to serve us for this first "welcome home" meal. What dear, thoughtful Chinese co-workers the Lord gave us.

About three days later Lao Ting came leading an official delegation from the Japanese Embassy. Four of them, dressed in formal attire (gray-striped trousers and long, black, morning coats), were carrying large baskets of fruit and flowers. On ribbon streamers decorating each basket, including one for Sandra, were printed these words, "Congratulations, Well Done!"

Shortly after our return to the OMS Bible school campus, we had an unusual request. Our senior Chinese pastor, Reverend Chou Wei Tung, and two Japanese appeared at our door. At this time all Japanese were being rounded up and put into hastily constructed P.O.W. camps until ships were available for their return to their homeland. Our district superintendent, who had at one time studied in Tokyo and was fluent in Japanese, acted as our interpreter. The request that carne from this delegation of our recent enemies was that 50 Japanese be permitted to reside in our student dormitories.

What a request this was, coming to us at that point when we were still recovering from the emotional scars and malnutrition of Weihsien. Yet I felt immediately that we should comply, thus sparing the men the hardship of the primitive P.O.W. camps. We did, however, make two stipulations. First, that those selected be civilians, and second, that every Sunday be a day of worship and all Japanese residing on our campus be requested to attend Christian services. They agreed to these conditions and for six weeks I had the joy of preaching salvation messages to them through my interpreter, Brother Chou. More than a mere turning the other cheek, this was a practical way to demonstrate Christian love and show that we harbored no bitterness. We understood that most of these individuals were victims of a militaristic regime, headed by a few ruthless men intent on establishing "a new order" in East Asia.

While the Japanese were living on our compound, several came from time to time bringing gifts, personal things that were very precious to them. One old grand-mother gave Christine a beautifully carved, white coral pin, which she said had been a gift from her now-dead son. Another gave Sandra a Japanese doll, dressed in an expensive silk costume and enclosed in a 20-inch high glass case. One, a newspaper reporter, presented me with a samurai sword, which had been in his family for more than 200 years (the edict had gone out that absolutely no weapons were permitted to be carried or shipped to Japan). I could see in his eyes how precious this object was as he tenderly placed the weapon in my hands. It was made of finest steel and enclosed in a beautiful leather scabbard.

By the time we returned to the U.S. in late January, these people had become our friends. On the predawn morning we left, almost 50 were on hand to farewell us. Forming a circle about us they sang, "God Be With You 'Til We Meet Again" in Japanese, of course. We joined with them, in English, and they then tearfully bowed us out to the big U.S. Army truck that was to take us to the train station.

With our bank funds still frozen and our small supply of cash running out we were now facing a small financial crisis. Gratefully, however, we were able to file claims for reparations and receive funds from the Japanese Embassy while the FRB currency was still in use. During the war our homes had been used as barracks for the troops. As a result they were now bedbug infested and all the inner walls of our houses were marked with bloody streaks where the little creatures had been squashed. When the money arrived in huge packages of 1000 yuan notes, looking like it had just come from the printers, I made plans to restore our spacious homes to a livable condition. We hired workmen, who disinfected the rooms by burning sulfur; then painters painted the walls and varnished the woodwork. This project of supervising the restoration of our beautiful buildings brought special satisfaction.

The Peking American School, where OMS missionary children had attended, needed to be reopened as soon as possible. Miss Alice Moore, former principal, was now back in Peking and asked me to help her recover the school's furniture and equipment which had been scattered all over the city. The main PAS building had actually been used as quarters for Japanese troops. Three trucks were allotted to us. Our search took us to all of the primary and secondary schools of the city. We found the piano in one place and teachers' desks in another. The students' desks were easy to spot for they were made of American oak and much superior to the Chinese ones. Soon we had a good portion of the school's property recovered and restored; however, the project was marred by one tragic incident. As one of our trucks, laden with furniture, turned sharply out of a narrow alleyway, a Chinese helper riding on the running board was crushed to death between the vehicle and a large stone pillar. Our hearts were greatly saddened. We gave the family twice the usual funeral expenses. This was quite a large sum of money and for postwar Peking amounted to a generous compensation — though, of course, no amount could make up for their loss.

In the first days after arriving in the city, a Methodist missionary, the Reverend Will Schubert, dressed in a U.S. Special Services uniform, appeared at our front door. He had been appointed by General Huang Jen Ling to do liaison work with U.S. military personnel. Later, in conferring with General Jones of the Marines in charge of all American forces in North China, Will learned that he was encountering special problems in managing logistics for U.S. Navy officers and enlisted men in the Peking area. A new batch was coming every day on three-day shore leaves. These men had excellent service records, and Will felt sure they would appreciate this ancient capital of China. He realized, however, that they would have great difficulty in communicating. His idea was to enlist the help of American missionaries to act as Navy tour guides. But there were very few missionaries around. Most upon liberation had returned to their homelands and, of course, no new recruits were yet able to enter the country. So Christine and I volunteered. We purchased the best guide books and memorized the appropriate sections.

Usually each day there were seven or eight truck-loads of Navy personnel, up to 200 men. Early in the morning I went to the Wagonlit Hotel where Will and I met the men and had breakfast with them. We then traveled across the city to the Lama Temple, which perpetuated the lowest form of Tibetan Buddhism involving gross forms of idol worship, with images half animal and half human. (One of the side rooms was actually dedicated to the "fornicating Buddha") From these ornate buildings we went to the nearby Confucian Temple. This represented quite a contrast. The rooms were kept scrupulously clean, and in place of idols was a single memorial tablet to Confucius, the great teacher of ethics. This was the only object of worship. In a side hall 72 plaques served as memorials to his disciples. In other buildings were classrooms for scholars who devoted themselves to memorizing the writings of the Great Sage, who before the time of Christ gave China the negative golden rule: "Don't do to others what you wouldn't want others to do to you"

By this time Christine had gotten Sandra off to school, planned meals with the cook and taken care of other household jobs. So around 9 a.m., the caravan stopped by the OMS compound to pick her up and continue on to other interesting landmarks.

On the weekends, of course, there were no kindergarten classes so Sandra toured with us all morning. This delighted the men and she was lovingly passed around from one "uncle" to another. Most of them had children of their own and longed to hold a child in their arms. When we stopped at the five tea houses, as we climbed and descended Coal Hill (so named because it was the source of coal supply for the Forbidden City), Sandra was transported up the incline and down on the shoulders of men eager to have her attention and entertain her with small talk. They called her "Little Limey" since she had acquired a British accent from her camp teacher, Miss Evelyn Davies, an English CIM missionary. You'd never know she had American parents!

Our procession then proceeded to the Forbidden City, China's premier museum and showplace. There we inspected the apartments of the Empress Dowager and the throne room where the boy emperor, Pu Yi, was overthrown in the Revolution of 1911 which ushered in the Nationalist government of the Republic. The treasuries of past dynasties were openly displayed and the men "oohed" and "aahed" over their beauty and their inestimable value.

The palace grounds covers 250 acres and encloses what were the living quarters of the court's multitudes of concubines and eunuchs. We toured the Palace of Imperial Peace, the Garden of Tranquility and the Throne Room of Complete Harmony. Finally descending the three marble terraces we exited the Gate of Heavenly Peace.

The last stop of our tour was the Temple of Heaven and the Altar of Heaven just across from it. Our convoy of trucks wound through the front gate, and two miles outside the city came to the six and a half square mile park, with the Temple of Heaven at its center. We recounted for the men that the Chinese from earliest history and until 100 B.C. were monotheists. Their emperors carried forward this tradition and even through the Manchus, who ruled to the end of the Ching Dynasty of 1911. Once a year, the ruler of China would go to the Altar of Heaven and pray to the Great Spirit for forgiveness for his own sins and the sins of his people. At this time he offered "clouds of incense." Then with his closest court attendants, he walked up to the Temple of Heaven situated on the top of three beautiful marble terraces. Only the emperor himself, however, entered and prayed for bountiful harvests. This unique building is cone shaped and rises 125 feet. The tiers are encircled and covered with deep blue tiles which date back to the Ming Dynasty (1500 A.D.). Inside, 28 huge red columns serve as main supports. No nails or metal were used in the temple's construction, and the number 28 is significant. The four nearest the center symbolize the seasons of the year. The next 12 in larger circumference represent the months. And the next 12, an even wider ring, represent the hours of the day. (The early Chinese divided the day into 12 hours, not 24.)

By the time the tour concluded it was well past noon. The two of us were scheduled to eat lunch at a small, but nice, hotel. They were happy to feed us once a day as part of their civic duty. After all, we were promoting tourism at a time when ordinary tourists were not allowed in their country. But often we accompanied several of the men to one of the nicer Chinese restaurants, usually ordering dishes we Americans most appreciate — Peking roast duck, velvet chicken, beef and green peppers, and delicious pork dumplings called chiao tzus. A few weeks of this and we were well on our way to recovery from prison camp malnutrition!

Each day following lunch, I (Christine) invited all who wished to shop to meet me in front of the hotel. At that time very few shopkeepers spoke any English and, of course, all street signs were in Chinese so it was difficult for the men to accomplish much on their own. Thus I would often have a trail of as many as 17 or more rickshaws following mine. Outside Chien Men (front gate) were favorite shopping alleys, featuring beautiful Peking rugs, carved furniture, embroidery and brassware, etc., which I delighted to "show off." Not only did I help them with their purchases but also frequently discouraged their purchasing for wives or girlfriends such "atrocities" as flimsy red robes embroidered with large purple, green and orange dragons.

Not long after our return to Peking from Weihsien, we received an invitation to attend the official flag raising at the American Embassy. It was a beautiful fall day. The Marine band played the Star-Spangled Banner and the very same flag which had been lowered on December 8, 1941, was now hoisted to the top of the tall flagstaff. What joy and pride surged through us, and what appreciation, as we remembered the great sacrifices that had made possible this moment. How magnificent the Stars and Strips looked waving in the breeze. We are truly a blessed people.

Later, Generalissimo Chiang Kai Shek and Madame Chiang came to Peking and all representatives from Allied nations were invited to a formal tea. Many of the top officials in their dress uniforms, replete with medals and battle ribbons, were in attendance. The Generalissimo gave a very warm expression of gratitude for the help China had received from her allies. He then personally greeted each of us. It was a special honor to see this famous couple up close and shake hands with them. They were most gracious.

Our Christmas in Peking, after liberation, will always live in our memories. We did not have much money since accounts were still frozen in the banks, but with some remuneration from the U.S. Navy for our services as tour guides, we had enough for food and some new clothes. One of the Navy boys gave us six, beautiful, fresh oranges which he had thoughtfully brought from his ship. Roy Schlosser, a Nazarene friend working with the U.S. Army First Division, had brought a large can of powdered ice cream mix, along with other gifts. Roy, Marcy Ditmanson and I went to nearby Pei Hai Park and cut ice from the lake, brought it home, resurrected our old hand-cranked freezer from the storeroom, and late that night made homemade ice cream. What a treat!

Christmas was a bonanza of rediscovered joys under the banner of freedom. I remember Sandra's sheer delight with her small gifts. One serviceman, a captain, gave her the bars from his uniform. Another presented her with an eagle insignia. By January of 1946 more and more servicemen were going home and numbers on our tours diminished. By this time the U.S. Navy had also completed the repatriation of the Japanese in North China.

Towards the end of January we met a young sailor, Jack Shadd, who said, "If you will return with me to my ship, I'll introduce you to my captain and I'm sure he'll take you and your family back to the States" Christine had also received several similar invitations from captains who had toured and shopped with us. By this time several cables had come from OMS headquarters urging us to "come home" We had also learned that OMS leaders, Bud Kilbourne and Lee Jeffries, had arrived in Shanghai to take charge of the resumption of mission activities in China.

So we felt the Lord was now opening the door, making our Stateside return possible. The next day Jack and I boarded a small landing craft which took us 17 miles out to sea, where a 7000-ton freighter was moored. Captain Peterson received me warmly and assured me that, if I could be back with my family in 48 hours, he would take us to San Francisco. When I explained our financial plight he suggested I go to the American Embassy and obtain a promissory note for the payment of our passage, amounting to $250 per person and half fare for Sandra. This I was able to do, also receiving permission for our friends, Mary Scott and a Methodist, the Reverend Fred Pyke, to join us as well.

Early the next morning I went to the U.S. Embassy and had the necessary guarantees of fare payment notarized. At last we were going home. What excitement and scurrying followed. We packed all through the night. Everything had to be ready for leaving: drapes carefully boxed up, rugs rolled and protected with moth balls, books and mission records stored in metal files, all listed and placed in the storeroom. Early the following morning our group of five, accompanied by Jack, boarded the train and traveled those hundred miles to Tientsin. There we purchased train tickets to Takubar where we were to board ship. Once on the train, however, we noticed to our consternation that we were heading north toward Tungshan. We pulled the overhead emergency cord and explained our situation to the conductor. "No," he informed us, "this train was not going to Taku" So right there in the middle of the countryside we got off with all of our baggage, pondering what to do next. First we bowed together and prayed, asking the Lord's help and guidance. Jack suggested we go back to Tientsin and obtain the use of a jeep. But how to get back to Tientsin? We were several miles away and from where we stood, we couldn't even see a road. We continued to pray and began walking in the direction of what looked like a small house. There we also found a narrow, dusty road and within an hour an American weapons carrier came along. We flagged the driver down and he was glad to oblige. Jack and I boarded the vehicle with thanksgiving and bounced back over the terrible dirt roads to the U.S. car pool.

It was late afternoon when we got back to the rest of our group still waiting in the open fields. By carefully arranging the baggage and passengers we managed to squeeze six large suitcases and five people into the jeep. The sun was just setting by the time we arrived at the dock. But then what discouraging news awaited us.

Since they had suffered some recent losses, the chief informed us no landing craft was permitted to go out to anchorage after sunset. What to do? The next morning would be too late because our ship would have already sailed. Then another snag. While we huddled in a tight group, discussing and praying, a sailor was sent to inform us that we would not be permitted to spend the night at Taku, since no female visitors were permitted at a military encampment after sunset. To make matters worse there were no hotels, inns, or homes within miles nor had we any transportation. Again we prayed. "We have done all we possibly can, Lord," we pleaded. "With Your help we have come this far, now please hold our hands and show us the next step. We're wholly relying on You."

A moment later an announcement came over the P.A. system that a landing craft would be going to the outer anchorage. Orders had just been received that one other freighter was to proceed to Korea and needed an escort. Praise the Lord! We had our transportation. We crawled over a number of smaller craft, up one side, down the other, and got to our designated LST with all our baggage. We first made our way to the Korean-bound freighter and then on to our ship, the Carrier Pigeon. What a beautiful sight when it came into view dead ahead, riding high in the water. It was now just a few minutes before midnight, the time the ship was scheduled to weigh anchor. Floodlights illumined the side of the vessel. The only means of boarding was a long rope ladder up the port side. It was a tough climb. Our very sleepy, five-year-old Sandra climbed a slow step up at a time between Christine's arms. The sailors helped with the heavy baggage. At last we were safely aboard.

Our ship stopped briefly at Tsingtao to unload Coca Cola and beer and then headed out to sea, bound for San Francisco. We had been at sea about two weeks when one morning the ship siren sounded an alert. We hastily donned our life jackets and rushed on deck. A few feet from our ship we could see a rusty floating mine with all of its spines protruding. Our captain was embarrassed because the crew had confessed that they used all the ship's ammunition, target shooting at beer cans. However, he radioed our position to Honolulu and later a plane was dispatched to blow up the mine.

On February 19 we came within view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Nearby was a huge sign which read, "Welcome Home. Well Done!" Those words sent a special thrill through us. Of course, we knew they were not intended for missionaries, but somehow, we believed that the Lord put them there as an encouragement to us.

Once in the harbor our China colleagues, Harry Woods and Annie Kartozian, boarded a small launch and came out to the anchorage of the Currier Pigeon to welcome us. We were home again in the good old U.S. of A! To my knowledge and in all of OMS annals, we are the only ones who "hitchhiked" home by carrier pigeon and on a promissory note. How beautifully our God provides.

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