Chapter 4
By Christine
The attack on Peking later that year commenced
with the bombing of the Lo Kua Shan Bridge (called by
many
In a short time Japanese militia were in evidence everywhere. Numerous sandbag barriers were situated throughout the city, manned by bayonet-toting guards.
Passes were required to travel anywhere
outside the capital. Since the
After a three-hour train ride we pulled into
At the OMS compound, also the campus of our Bible school, we were welcomed by field director, Harry Woods, and his wife, Emily. I can still savor the warm fire blazing in the hearth and the bowl of hot soup.
We were soon occupying a lovely home just
across from the Woods and next door to the
We soon fell in love with
All the tales we had heard about the difficulty of acquiring the Chinese language proved more than true. While Meredith attended the local language school, due to my advanced pregnancy it was agreed I should study at home with a tutor. Chang Hsien Sheng, a gracious Chinese gentlemen and friend, was not one to tolerate any hanky-panky with the complex Chinese tonal system and subtle "r" and "u" sounds. Long tedious hours were spent in the assiduous effort to reproduce the difficult intonations and inflections of Mandarin.
Our beautiful daughter, Sandra Kay, was born
Friday, December 13, 1940, just two months after our arrival in
For Sandra's first birthday, December 13,
1941, I had gone to a great deal of effort to plan a festive occasion inviting
all the students, staff and missionaries. But, six days earlier, on that
never-to-be-forgotten day, December 8, as we tuned in the Shanghai English
broad-cast for the morning news, we heard, "I REPEAT TO ALL AMERICAN
CITIZENS RESIDING IN EASTERN CHINA, YOU ARE NOW PRISONERS OF THE JAPANESE.
Meredith and I sat there stunned. Bombing? American prisoners? At war? We ran next door to the Woods' home. Harry called our missionary family together. We now numbered six adults and five children, but the four Woods children were already on their way to school.
We had been at the Woods' home less than ten minutes, praying and talking, when Meredith realized he was wearing Chinese cloth slippers. In view of the enemies' antipathy toward the Chinese and not knowing what our captors had in mind for us, he thought it best to change into leather shoes — just in case.
He had been gone only five minutes when through the living room window I saw between 15 to 20 Japanese soldiers, with bayonets fixed — and Meredith in their midst! They were taking him toward the front gate and my heart cried, "Oh Lord, will I ever see my husband again?"
In a moment, however, the soldiers were at the front door to take us too. We were surprised to discover they had a list and knew all of our names as well as sex and age. They signaled for us to follow them. As I was prodded out the front door, my eyes were drawn to a very small plaque, only about three by one and one half inches, just to the right of the door. I had gone in and out of that entrance several times a day for the past year but had never noticed the words that now stood out in bold relief, as though inscribed in letters of fire. It read, "Lo, I am with you always." Each word of that phrase was suddenly pregnant with meaning. I knew the Lord's finger had written it to prepare us for the hours ahead.
I was distressed that Sandra was still in her bedroom with our amah. I pointed to the house and made a rocking motion with my arms. The soldier seemed to understand that our baby, the last name on their list, was there and I was asking permission to take her with me. But he vigorously shook his head and pushed me forward. Though heartsick, I found some comfort in the thought that Sandra was with a trustworthy Chinese woman (Shen Ma), who loved her as dearly as though she were her own child. I joined the others, breathing a prayer of protection for our little one.
Our captors marched us just to our gatehouse. Within an hour Sandra appeared holding tightly to Shen Ma's hand, peering out from behind her skirts. By now, the Woods' children had also arrived. Japanese soldiers had encountered them in the street on their way to school and escorted them back to the compound.
So began that first, long, grueling day. Our captors made it plain we were to sit in a semicircle facing them, and by sign language ordered the gateman to bring the necessary chairs. Thus we sat, the six members of the Woods' family, Annie Kartozian, Mary Maness, Meredith and I. Now began the laborious interrogation, carried on in a mixture of fractured Chinese and bits of English.
"Where did you hide your guns?" the
officer asked. Our guns?
It took a moment for the words to register. Finally, in reply, Harry Woods, who
had served a short term as a missionary in
This continued until nearly 2 p.m. when we were allowed to go back to the Woods' house for a half hour, to eat a belated lunch. That afternoon the interrogation was resumed with the same questions repeated. By six o'clock we were more exhausted than if we had spent the day digging ditches.
Now the Japanese insisted that we all move into the Woods' house. We were permitted to return to our own homes, under guard, to retrieve some clothing and small necessities. Then the officers sealed each house, informing us, scowlingly, of the dire consequences should we break any of those seals and reenter our homes. So we all moved in with the director and his family, which made 11 of us around the table for each meal.
Late that evening two soldiers appeared to demand that Harry pack a small bag and go with them. It was a blessing that we did not know that he was being taken to the Japanese Gendarmerie, for many times as we had passed by that notorious building we'd heard the screams of Chinese being tortured. It would be an entire month before we would see Harry again. As the days passed we hardly dared to think of any of the horrific possibilities that came to mind!
Fortunately, the Woods' cook, Sung Shih Fu, lived with his wife and two small daughters on the campus.
Soldiers decided he could continue to cook for us. And since we were forbidden to leave the house, he would also shop for groceries. Having Sung Shih Fu was a boost to our morale. Not only was he a master chef, he was adept at using the large, brick, Russian-type stove fueled with coal balls. He knew how to bank the fire each evening so it would start the next morning thus conserving precious coal. This was a "must" for such stoves, and none of us "foreigners" had acquired this skill.
December 13 came — the long anticipated date of Sandra's first birthday. Sung Shih Fu used a small amount of our now carefully rationed stock of sugar and flour to make a loaf cake with raisins. I found the stub of an oversized candle and planted it in the middle.
For a first birthday party, photographs are mandatory. I dressed Sandra warmly, and Meredith got out his camera which still had a few unexposed frames on the roll of film. With cake, camera and baby in tow, we ventured out of the house onto the porch for the first time since our incarceration. We had always taken to heart our captors' admonition, that the first one to stick his head out of that door would be shot. So this was truly a shaky trial run. In a moment, Japanese guards appeared on all sides, but when we gestured to the baby, the camera and the cake, they smiled and escorted us to a little area in the garden immediately in front of the steps. From the outset, we learned that Japanese have tender feelings for children. Both snapshots of our small one's first birth-day show smiling Japanese soldiers in the background.
The occupation of our campus brought an end to Bible school activities. Now with all the students dispersed, classes discontinued and the language school shut down, we found ourselves in a novel position, with plenty of time on our hands. We set about preparing a schedule, determined to make the best use of these suddenly free hours.
Thursday night was our regular OMS prayer meeting and Sunday morning, of course, was reserved for a worship service. We also decided to meet for regular times of Bible study each morning and various missionaries took turns leading these sessions. Several of us agreed to tutor the Woods' children who were now, of necessity, thrust into a program of home schooling. Others were assigned to help the cook prepare meals. Thus the days passed more quickly, but there was no word about our field director, Harry Woods.
Christmas came and went. Our little party did the best we could do to make a celebration of it though still strictly confined to the house. Sung Shih Fu contrived to fix a Christmas dinner, but without turkey, fruitcake or any of the special foods we associate with the season, it took considerable imagination on our part. Still, without the trappings of our American tradition, perhaps we could even better savor the true essence of Christmas, the coming of the Christ Child to a people in bondage and despair. Together we praised the Lord for His care of us through the days of captivity and earnestly prayed that Harry might quickly be released, unharmed.
The New Year was soon upon us. What a strange and difficult month December had been. In prewar days we received mail from abroad only when the mail ship came in, usually every six weeks or two months, so there hadn't yet been time to really miss the news from home. (Mercifully we didn't know we'd be without mail for the next four years.) But thoughts of parents and loved ones, anxious and waiting for word about our plight, wondering whether we were still alive, troubled us.
The following week our quarantine came to an end. The Japanese issued us three-inch wide, bright red arm-bands, bearing Chinese characters which read, "Enemy National." With these displayed we were now permitted to go into town but not outside of the confines of the city walls.
That same week Harry was released. Gratefully, he had not been mistreated as we had feared but had been used primarily as an interpreter. In that role he could alleviate the suffering of Chinese prisoners who were being tortured because they could not properly communicate. In some cases he had managed to secure their release. After a month he was told that his services were no longer needed and was escorted, under guard, back to the compound and issued an armband along with the rest of us.
At the same time came other welcome news. We could now move back to our own homes and the single girls to their apartments. We decided, however, to continue eating together, to cut costs and take advantage of Sung Shih Fu's services. We were impressed with the necessity of practicing strict economy since we were no longer able to receive money from the States. All of us lost a little weight but continued in good health.
As is always the case, hard times brought with them some surprising benefits. One of these was a new and more intimate relationship with Chinese Christians. Though we were still foreigners, the fact that we suffered alike under a common enemy bonded us together in a beautiful way.
Now that our schedules were so much less restricted, we also had opportunities to see more of our fellow-missionaries of various denominations and nationalities. Two of these, casual acquaintances in prewar days, now became intimate friends and very much part of the OMS family.
Marcy Ditmanson, a few years younger than us
and the son of Lutheran missionaries, had been born in
Dr. John Hayes was the distinguished
headmaster of the
[After the war John returned to
Our numbers increased further the following
months when Japanese authorities decided to move all foreigners residing in
outlying areas to
With OMS funds in the Peking bank frozen and our pooled funds totalling a fraction above zero, we were facing a crisis. If we wanted to continue eating, it was clear that we would have to exchange our valuables for cash. As soon as armbands were issued, Meredith set out to sell whatever he could. The first two items to go were his camera and clarinet. Our portable typewriter, too, would bring a good price in Chinese dollars, if we could find someone to buy it. But Chinese had little use for a typewriter with an English alphabet, and foreigners in the city, like ourselves, were selling, and not buying. Then we had an inspiration. What about the Russian Embassy? They were still open and were happy to take the precious Smith-Corona off our hands. So like the camera and clarinet, we "ate" the typewriter too.
Now a new problem developed. Japanese soldiers, three or four together, began appearing at our doors. If we were not at home they'd simply enter uninvited and help themselves to whatever items took their fancy — a lamp, nest of tables, set of dishes. On one occasion, they instructed Meredith to have their chosen items at a certain warehouse at seven o'clock the next morning to be auctioned. Obviously, the Japanese were making a little extra money on the side. It was clear that at this rate very soon our homes would be stripped of everything of value. But God preserves his people, and sometimes even their possessions, in improbable ways.
On one of Meredith's trips downtown, he noticed a Chinese gentleman following him as though he wanted to get his attention. When Meredith stepped into a doorway, the man, peering cautiously around, slipped in behind him. He introduced himself as a carpenter, who had been led to the Lord several years earlier by OMS missionary, Rolland Rice. Aware that the Japanese were gradually appropriating all of our belongings he had determined to show his gratitude by helping us. For several nights, he explained, he had watched the little alley that ran behind our back wall and was certain that no Japanese soldiers patrolled it on a regular basis. "I have a small carpenter's shop," he explained, "where I think I can conceal your goods. If you will bring all your valuables to the small gate on a designated night, I'll be there with my men and two carts to take your things to my shop, where I will conceal them behind a wall which I will build using old bricks." Meredith was deeply moved to think that this precious Chinese friend would risk imprisonment, torture and possibly death to help us. Gratefully, we set about to collect our most important items, particularly mission books and records, allotting each missionary a small amount of space for their most treasured belongings.
I still remember the night chosen for "the deed." We had packed all the things in boxes as small and compact as possible. Our carpenter friend had chosen a night when there was no moon. He appeared, right on schedule, at midnight. Although there were 12 to 15 Japanese guarding the main entrance, there were none stationed at the small back gate.
In the distance a clock sounded the hour. Almost immediately there was a slight scratching sound on the gate. Our friend and his men were there. Because they were wearing their cloth shoes and the dust of the alley was deep, their footsteps were noiseless. So the boxes, a small chest or two, and a file cabinet were quickly loaded onto the carts.
It was three days before we received word concerning the fate of our goods. Meredith dared not go to the carpenter's shop for fear of casting suspicion on our helper. On the third day, however, he sauntered by on the opposite side of the street, hoping to catch the man's attention. Sure enough, as he passed, he saw the carpenter slip out of his shop. Using the same doorway tactics as before, Meredith stepped into the shadows and soon his friend shuffled in beside him. They praised God together, rejoicing over the safe transfer of our goods. The new, old-looking wall had been completed and everything was in place. ---
[Following our release from prison camp after the war we were jubilant as we pulled down those bricks and retrieved our personal things along with mission records.]
During our 15 months of house arrest we enjoyed remarkably good health, but in February of 1943 (Ground Hog Day) a mishap occurred which could have been very serious.
That day Meredith was riding his bike across town to visit a Salvation Army couple with whom we had become quite close. Since they had three children he decided to take Sandra along, placing her on her familiar perch atop the crossbar. Chinese bicycles at that time were made of inferior metal, and the front forks linking the wheel to the handlebar were notoriously unreliable. They had almost reached their destination when suddenly the fork snapped throwing both of them head first onto the gravel road. As they fell, Meredith instinctively protected Sandra in his arms. As a result he crashed to the ground head first, taking a tremendous blow to the temple. Dazed, he picked himself up, took Sandra by the hand and started walking. He arrived back at our compound, incoherent. Amazingly he had been able to hail a rickshaw and give the runner our home address in Chinese. We later discovered that he had also paid the man the proper fare. When Meredith wandered onto the compound, his head badly bruised and bleeding, he was clearly in a daze. His only response to our questions was a simple, "It broke." We called an American doctor who came to the home and sewed up several deep cuts on his head and put him to bed. I remember tearfully asking Emily if she thought my husband would ever be in his right mind again. The following morning, although his memory had not yet fully returned, at least his speech was coherent. Gratefully, at the time of the accident, Meredith had been wearing a thick, Russian-type, fur cap. We all agreed that without this, he would have suffered far more serious injury.
When the notice came that we were to prepare
for transfer to the "