[Excerpts]

[...]

The words DROP HERE had been made out of silk from the parachutes and laid out in a big field in front of the camp. Most of the drops were successfully made in that general area.

However, one of the planes misfired, and this is how it happened: parachutes were in such abundant supply that we kids not only made a new game out of taking jumps from the mountain of piled-up parachutes, but we used the brightly colored chutes to decorate the playing field for a sports day in honor of the occasion. One pilot brought his B-29 right above us and gave the order, “Bomb racks open!” Under-doors parted, and boxes came crashing down onto the camp.

We kids loved it, but I saw one older lady, close to a nervous wreck at the best of times, look up in panic as she saw a parachute chasing her. She took off into the air as if she was going to meet the parachute halfway, but was saved the effort as a tree checked its fall.

She crumpled up on the ground exhausted, with the parachute’s great silk panels gently enfolding her.

After the planes had dropped their supplies, we gathered what we could and brought them into the church, where they were sorted. We had never seen a warehouse sale or any kind of sale for that matter, but the church resembled one at that moment.

One lineup about which there were no complaints for a change was the one for the distribution.

My portion for August 29 was two towels, three handkerchiefs, one cap, four tins of food (one was “chopped pork and egg yolks”), two big and four small chocolate bars, ten packets of chewing gum— Chiclets and Beechnut were two I remember—and ten boxes of cigarettes! We bartered well with the latter.

Much of the food was completely new to us. I recall having no idea what ketchup was. I found it a bit thick to drink but loved it.

Likewise with the Chiclets. Though hard to swallow, I kept getting them down and popping in another delicioustasting white square until somebody told me, “You don’t eat them; you just keep on chewing!”

We devoured so much chocolate we couldn’t even look at it after a few days. Gone forever were our desserts of acacia flowers stripped from the trees.

Though our stomachs were in turmoil, who could be ill at such a time? We heard of some people in the camp hospital who, when they heard the GIs had landed, jumped out of bed and out of the windows, never to return.

Freedom had come at last. Weihsien Concentration Camp was almost history.

Now we had to get home!

[excerpt]

We heard that the day for our departure would be September 24.

As the day approached, I couldn’t help feeling a bit sad at leaving. We had come to know the camp so well. It had been home to us for a long time. But when the 24th dawned, our excitement was dampened only slightly by rain coming down in torrents. The day that we had dreamed about for years, however, was to bring heartbreaking disappointment. Though our party of missionaries and children were loaded up into the trucks, the rain had turned the roads into quagmires, and we had to turn back.

The next day went better, and on September 25, 580 of us rumbled out on trucks through the camp gates and bounced our way to Weihsien city, where we boarded the train. We rolled out of Weihsien toward the coast not a day too soon, as guerillas blew up the track the very next morning.

What a royal welcome the Chinese people of Tsingtao gave us! As the train chugged into this coastal city, crowds lined the streets with banners held high, announcing “Grateful Welcome to Our Allies.”

[excerpt]

We had our first swim, and as one of the teachers remarked, “We looked clean for the first time in years.”

That was at least a better response than the little boy whose memories knew nothing before Weihsien.

When he saw the sea for the first time he said, “Mommy, look at that great big cesspool!”

[excerpt]

In Hong Kong the British RAPWI (Repatriation of Allied Prisoners of War and Internees) cared for us. Soldiers treated us royally, taking us for cruises in their jeeps and trucks. And the British Red Cross put on teas and picnics for us, with all kinds of goodies.

Hearing in Hong Kong about the terrible conditions in the concentration camp at local Camp Stanley, we came to realize how much we had to be thankful for at Weihsien. As children we would never have survived what the prisoners faced under the Japanese military at Stanley.

Swarms of captured Japanese soldiers were being marched around in our area. A squad of them, in fact, were ordered to carry our baggage.

[excerpt]

Once the gangplank was down, my Dad came on board. Joyce rushed into his arms and I saw her heels flying in the air. I felt embarrassed and held back for a moment, but then ran forward with arms outstretched. The six to seven years of separation were over at last.

[excerpt]

A summer Christmas followed by vacation helped us to catch up with Western civilization. Then in February 1946 I started school—a real school, with proper desks and chairs and playing fields. My accent was very British, and the teacher advised the children to copy me. But I was more interested in copying them.

Classmates had difficulty believing some of the stories I told them. Only when I brought along some of my pieces of parachute—especially the piece signed by some of the GIs who dropped into Weihsien Camp—were they convinced. I had come out of another world.

Sometimes as I sat in class those first weeks at the Grange Primary School, my mind would wander back to Weihsien. Losing the teacher, I would look out of the window and see the trees, the neat houses and tidy fields, and in the far-off distance, the wide horizon and open sky.

The walls were gone. I was free. I would burst into tears—tears of relief, of happiness and of thankfulness.

[further reading] ...
http://www.weihsien-paintings.org/books/aBoysWar/ABoysWar(LaTotale)-pages.pdf

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