Preface
In 1948 my father, Capt. Herbert S. Lowe (who had served under General
Patton in WWII) , was part of the U. S. Army Advisory Group (AAG) to Chiang
Kai-shek in China. My father was a small arms expert as part of the AAG
liaison team. My mother, Evelyn Lowe, and I (Diane Elizabeth Lowe)
followed him to his various assignments in Shanghai, Nanking, and Canton.
During the Communist take-over of Nationalist China, we were evacuated from
Shanghai, China, to Japan.
At this time, General Douglas MacArthur, Commander of the U.S. Forces,
oversaw the occupation of Japan after its WWII surrender. My father
was later associated with him again in the Korean War. As an officer
in three wars, my father served as a Brigade Commander in the 25th
Division under General Westmoreland in Viet Nam. He retired as a full
colonel after thirty years of service in the U. S. Army.
During our experiences in China and Japan, my mother kept a journal. Most
notably, a recurring theme in her observations of the Communist invasion of
China was that of the complacency of Chinese people as slowly the Communist
Chinese swallowed the Chinese mainland. She described
Japan in 1949 as being more picturesque and westernized than China at that
time.
Episode I
After spending the night in
the Yangtze River waiting for the tide to change, we arrived in Shanghai
China, March 26, 1948. Later that evening we heard that a round of officers
was coming aboard, so some of us waited up to see the happenings. We waited
that evening until twelve o’clock. The army vessel came alongside the
Brewster and the first feelings of being in a foreign country came over me
when I saw the coolies in their padded clothes working away on the ropes and
ladders. We then went to bed and had not been there five minutes when were
called for processing in the lounge. With our hair put up, cream on our
faces, and in our pajamas and coats, we went up to see what was next. In
night clothes we through the tedious immigration process, filling out papers
and baggage slips. At 1:30 p.m. we were finished and went back to bed, much
too excited to sleep. There was much activity going on all night. We heard people running
up and down stairs and slamming doors. The officers and men of the ship were
busy getting ready to pull anchor and move up the Whangpoo River. At 5:30
a.m. we got up, showered, and dressed. After taking identification
photographs, we ate our breakfast.
The sights that met our eyes
were strange and varied, as we cruised up the Whangpoo River for several
hours. On both sides of the water we saw usual industrial buildings,
refining operations, steelworks, and shipyards. However, the names of the
companies were printed in Chinese letters. Strange workers were in and out
of buildings and along the shores. The river itself was muddy and covered
with sampans, which were boats used for living, fishing, and carrying cargo.
The air was pungent. We were getting anxious and eager to see our husbands. We wished the ship
would move faster.
Finally, around 9:00 p.m. we
started drawing close to the dock. We could see the officers and men
waiting. But we couldn't make out their faces until slowly we came much
closer. After we were reunited with our husbands, we were more impatient
than ever to be alone with them. An army band greeted us with some gay music
and a big sign on a truck that said Welcome to China. Soon the
gangplank was fixed and the husbands came aboard. It was a happy sight to
see husbands, wives, and children laughing and kissing each other. With
Herb, Diane, and me in a rickshaw driven by a pedaling, small Chinese man, I
got my first real impression of China and Shanghai as we drove along to our
first lodging.
Of course it was crowded. One
shop was practically on top of another one. People were scurrying along on
cobbled streets. Horns tooted constantly in what seemed like an never-ending
celebration. The constant movement of rickshaws and pedicabs was an odd
sight. Pedicabs were bicycles with seats attached behind for customers. The
rickshaws were similar except that the drivers ran along in front holding
onto poles on each side instead of pedaling bicycles. We were sent to the
Race Course, which at one time was a British turf club and must have been
quite elegant in its day. It was still one of the best places to stay in
Shanghai. We were given an apartment in a large building that overlooked the
race track, hockey field, tennis courts, and swimming pool. Our living
quarters had a large room, a small hall that we used for Diane’s crib, a
small kitchen with a large refrigerator and stove, and a sizeable bathroom.
It was furnished quite comfortably with a divan, three overstuffed chairs
and table with four chairs. When I arrived Herb had fresh carnations on the
table, a new rug on the floor, and a pretty new tablecloth on the table, all
which were inviting.
When we arrived at the Race Course, the men
brought us in the back entrance because the front one was being repaired.
Because of plumbing problems the workers had torn up the tile floor and
little tiny pieces were strewn all over. After many weeks of working on it,
the workmen finally were ready to replace the tile. For several days two or
three men sat there fitting little pieces of tile together like a jigsaw
puzzle. Then to our utter amazement, one day we saw it all finished with
every little piece back in place. This process was typical with these
people. I saw this same procedure again when Diane later put a duck in the
toilet. When the duck became lodged, the workers again smashed the toilet
and tile with sledge hammers. They then painstakingly put tiny pieces of
tile and plaster back together for days on end. Never had I seen such
patience.
The first day together in Shanghai we
walked up Bubbling Well Street, which was considered the best shopping
district. We stopped in several shops just to look and compare prices. We
saw beautiful carved teakwood chests, bars, screens, jade jewelry, cloisonné
vases, silk robes, lingerie and slippers. Herb took me to a shop in a
secluded area which he had happened across previously. He bought me a lovely
blue brocade robe.
The second day we went to the commissary
and PX, where we bought groceries and necessary supplies. On our way back we
took a bus through the busiest part of Shanghai. It was strange indeed. The
shops were open in the front. You could see their wares plainly from the
street. Stores sold luggage, chests, silks of all designs and colors, and
beds with colorful paintings on them. The theatres were especially
interesting. One had a large, full-length figure of a man in front. His eyes
went on and off like a neon sign.
This city of mystery and intrigue was the
largest city in China with an estimated population of four to six million.
Since the war, the populace has increased as people have migrated to the
city from the countryside where their living conditions were pitifully poor.
Unfortunately, those who moved to the city found, after they lived there
awhile, that they were worse off. The standard of living for the average
Chinese was very low. Starvation and lack of clothing were commonplace for
the majority of the Chinese people. Beggars were always in sight, which
caused us some concern at times.
Shanghai resembled Chicago with its tall
buildings and the bustle of traffic on the Bund. The climate was similar
also. Both had exceedingly cold winters and very hot summers with stifling
humidity. Shanghai was overcrowded with refugees. Some buildings which
normally housed three or four families now had twenty-five families living
in them. Most of the streets were narrow, crooked, and crowded with people
and rickshaws. The wharf where the ships berthed was in the Hongkew District
and was noted for being the roughest and toughest part of the city.
Pickpockets were numerous. Two friends of mine, who were headed for Korea,
took a tour of Shanghai in a rickshaw. Before they knew it, they were robbed
of their purses. One lost $300. We were warned about this sort of thing.
We would see many strange and new sights as
we toured the city. Church services were held along the sidewalks in front
of tall Buddhas, where people would huddle around in circles and light
candles. There were various kinds of churches in Shanghai. Most
denominations were represented there from Moslem to Interdenominational
ones. We had arrived in the Easter Season. Our Easter Service was held in
the yard below our windows where a large cross was erected the day before.
The foundation was made of bamboo sticks and a heavy creamy colored paper
covered a skeleton cross. Temporary structures were put up and the interior
of one was furnished with a cross, candelabra, and velvet hangings. A choir
occupied the second temporary building and the audience sat opposite under a
canopy. They opened the service with Holy, Holy, Holy. They sang very
well.
That evening we attended an Easter dance at
the Officers Club. They had a clever floor show with an exceptionally good
acrobat. Most of the women who came over on the Brewster were there with
their husbands. We had a gay time getting acquainted and dancing.
The next day, after sleeping late and
having lunch, we took a bus ride through the French Quarter to the Science
Institute. The French area was especially clean and modern with many smart
shops, where we could buy the latest hats or gowns, when we had the money
for them. The Institute in the French Quarter was simply a hostel where
several families were billeted. There was a children’s’ playground, which
was rather attractive with winding walks and large trees.
On our way back we stopped in the shopping
district and I bought a tea set. We decided to confine the rest of our
shopping to the window variety until we were sure of what we wanted to buy.
Chinese merchants were very clever and loved to fool Americans.
Our first day playing golf at the Race
Course was most enjoyable. As we walked to the clubhouse, a group of Chinese
boys motioned that they wanted to caddy. I chose a little fellow, who was
not more than seven years old. His name was Sho-Po. He knew every club and
when to use it. His favorite expression was beauty, when one of us
hit the ball well. The course was surrounded by the race track. It had nine
holes, was very level, and was not bad for playing golf.
Our first evening out we went to the Navy
Club. It was in the International Settlement and not too far from the Race
Course. After entering, we almost forgot that we were in Shanghai, China. It
would have compared favorably with any nice club in the states. An excellent
Pilipino orchestra entertained us. We called their girl singer Sophie
because she reminded us of Sophie Tucker. Our dinner was comprised of fruit
salad, fish, fillet mignon, ice cream and raspberries. The people at the
club were an interesting lot. They included Army and Navy personnel,
civilian workers, and Chinese individuals. The styles of clothing were all
different, making an interesting sight. Some wore new fashions made of
beautiful silk and satin. Others wore traditional clothing. Chinese women
dressed in their own style of gowns made of colorful brocade with slit
skirts and Mandarin collars.
Walking up and down Nanking Road became a
favorite pastime. Most of the shopping was done on Yates Road. There was an
assortment of shops never to be seen again. One street drew women like a
magnet. We had great fun bargaining and the merchants were quite friendly in
these early days. We mostly bought silver pieces, lovely handmade blouses,
brocade, lingerie, and lamps.
We planned to go to a Chinese restaurant
with some friends. Chinese officers on the Brewster had highly recommended
the Sun Ya. Materials in an Army guide folder also recommended it. Soon one
night we took pedicabs to the restaurant. It was only four or five blocks
away, so we took Nanking Road. It cost us 40,000 Chinese units, which was
about $.04. In the Sun Ya each party had a separate room. When we looked at
the menu, we could not decide what to order. So, we had the boy bring us
five different dishes to sample and try. We ate sautéed shrimp, fried
noodles and beef, chicken and walnuts, sweet and sour pork, and curried
shrimp. Each menu item was served in a silver dish with a place underneath
for hot water. We ate one thing at a time from a very small Chinese dish not
more than five inches in diameter. Of course, the table was set with
chopsticks. We thought it was a good opportunity to learn how to use them.
So we experimented with eating with the chopsticks and to our great surprise
we did very well. The waiter showed us how to use them. We discovered that
once we had the proper grip, it was quite easy to eat with them. We held one
chopstick still with the third finger and moved the other chopstick with the
first and second fingers. The food was delicious. It was hard to describe
which dish we liked best. With the food we had green prune wine, which was
served in tiny silver pots. We also had unstrained, weak green tea.
It took quite awhile for Chinese people to
get used to strangers. They would gather around us, radiating with
curiosity, and stare at our shoes and hats. Our shoes were much different
than theirs. Ours were colored and high-heeled. The Chinese women never wore
hats, so they were especially fascinated with ours.
It was common to see beggar women nursing
their babies as they walked along, small children with their slit pants
squatting along the street, and vendors carrying their kitchenettes on
jingle sticks. We often saw men rolling out dough on small tables set up
between buildings. It was commonplace to see Chinese men transporting all
kinds of piled cargo on a kind of trailer that some men pushed in back and
others directed in front. Beggars or mobs besieged trucks filled with cotton
bales, grabbing what they could while the trucks stopped or slowed for
traffic. The beggars grabbed handfuls of cotton and stuffed them into their
pockets, as men from the trucks flayed them with bamboo poles. The beggars
sought the cotton to use in linings in their winter clothes to keep warm.
Rainy days were good days to shop because
business was poor on those days. When it rained the merchants would lower
the prices considerably. We would dress for the wet weather and hire
rickshaws to take us to various shops. It was always a fascinating sight to
see the drivers in their straw coats and coverings made of patched inner
tubes. My friends and I also had great fun shopping for Bingo prizes. We
would wander up and downstairs, into alleys, and out of the way nooks and
crannies to find our treasures. We were very proud of what and all we
purchased with our money. We even took pictures of our caches.
Our amah was a young girl named May Ling,
like the Generalissimo’s wife. She was pretty and always a good worker. When
I arrived she took right over. In fact, she was overly enthusiastic her
first day and washed everything in sight, including my wool sweaters which
were never any good after that. We also had a houseboy who did all of the
heavy cleaning, ran errands, and served as a general handyman. When the
amahs washed linens, table covers, or handkerchiefs, they would hang them to
dry by sticking them to the tiled walls in the kitchen or bathroom. It
always amazed me that they would stay on the wall and needed no ironing when
dry.
Soon after I arrived at the Race Course I
began to think about decorating the apartment to make it more homelike. The
large windows and doors opening on to the balcony needed drapes or curtains,
so I asked May Ling if she knew of a tailor who could make them for me. She
said yes she did, so before the day was over a young man arrived. He was
dressed in Western clothes, spoke a little English, and seemed quite
likable. I told him that I wanted yellow drapes made from cotton or
something that could be washed and a bedspread to match. He seemed to
understand and later brought me some samples. What I selected was stateside
material. I didn’t know how or where he got it. At any rate, he made the
drapes and bedspread to my satisfaction. From then on he did much sewing for
me. It was not until three months later that I found out, quite by chance,
that my tailor was none other than May Ling's husband! Our apartment was
beginning to seem like home. We enjoyed sitting on our balcony overlooking
the Race Course and watching the various sports. At night we would lie in
bed and see all the colorful Chinese neon signs on the tops of buildings in
the business district. During the hot summer our apartment was a haven
because we always had a breeze from the open space below us.
Another series of remarkable events
happened about this time. May Ling’s female friend was Zee. She worked for a
friend of mine, who also lived at the Race Course. May Ling and Zee were
often together. They took the children out to play. They evidently took
their holidays together. During this time, I came to the conclusion that May
Ling was pregnant. I had noticed her expanding figure. However, she
continued scrubbing the kitchen floor, carrying Diane, and doing her work
without any seeming discomfort.
In the ensuing months, Zee, who was not
married, encouraged May Ling to go out with a young man, who also worked at
the Race Course and was very fond of May Ling. Zee had a boyfriend and
wanted to make a foursome with May Ling and the young man who liked her.
They would wait for May Ling until she got off work at night and would
almost force her to go with them. May Ling finally broke off her friendship
with Zee because she did not want to go with them. This made Zee angry.
After she waited for May Ling one night, Zee beat up May Ling, as she was
going home. The next morning an amah brought me the news that May Ling was
in the hospital very ill. Her baby had died. After many days in the hospital
May Ling recovered, but she was not able to come back to work. Zee lost her
job. I understood that she had been arrested.
One day while reading the paper I saw an
article with the heading University of Iowa will have Meeting. It
stated that anyone who had attended the university was invited. This
interested me a great deal because the U. of I. was my alma mater. I thought
it would be nice to meet people who had gone to the same university I had
attended. I thought by chance I might see someone I had known. I called a
Mr. Reynolds, who was in charge of the event. He was anxious for me to come
to the meeting. The event was held in the American Club. I hopped in a taxi
with much anticipation. Never will I forget my utter consternation when I
was greeted by a group of dignified elderly men, all Chinese, who were
leaders in banking and educational fields. They had earned their masters and
doctoral degrees at the University of Iowa. I was the only woman present,
until a Miss Kwang, assistant to the manager of the Bank of China, arrived.
Later when they asked everyone to list their writings and degrees on a
questionnaire, I was at a complete loss. On looking back, I have thought
that the surprise of my attendance must have been mutual. I could easily say
that was the most embarrassing experience in my life. However, the others at
this meeting were very kind and most hospitable. After we ate a delicious
meal which I could not enjoy, another surprise came. A photographer made his
appearance to take a picture of the group. The others insisted that I be
included in the photo. I've often thought about what those who saw the photo
in the alumni magazine thought.
During the next six months, there were many
student riots. The police had difficulty controlling them. One Saturday
there was a big explosion. When we rushed to the balcony, we saws huge
clouds of smoke in the distance. One of the students had thrown a bomb into
a newspaper establishment. Hostility towards foreigners had increased. We
noticed this in the shops particularly. The merchants would bargain very
little or not at all. They displayed much indifference toward our purchasing
anything. The beggars became bolder and some even tried to stop us on the
streets.
Our experience with a typhoon was
frightening and exciting. It started in Taiwan and finally burst on us in
full fury for a couple of days. The lightening and wind were fierce. It
seemed like the elements were trying to punish us. Several streets and the
race track were flooded. We had to move all our furniture and belongings out
of range of the windows in case they broke. Some vulnerable spots in our
apartment were wired. After it had blown itself out, we read that several
hundred Chinese had been killed during the storm. This was no surprise
because of the way they lived with no protection from the wind, rain, and
snow.
Our visit to Nanking was interesting. We
saw Chiang Kai-shek’s summer home, which he did not occupy due to Communist
bandits. It was outside the wall of the city. Farther out was the Sun Yat
Sen Memorial, which was situated on a mountain. It could be seen from miles
around and was truly a beautiful sight with its bright blue-tiled roof and
series of steps leading up to it.
It was September 1948 and the war was going
badly. Gradually, the Communists were gaining more and more territories.
Nationalist China was like a weak old man, tottering between life and death.
Everywhere people seemed to be drifting. They did not seem to care if the
war was lost. There was no national spirit and no way of promoting it. In
our country the government would have forced rationing and taxation, but in
China is was impossible. Each person seemed to worry for his own welfare and
where to get food for his next meal.
Mayor Wu of Shanghai at this time tried to
raise trillions of funds to finance the war with his Soak the Rich
program. He would invite the rich to his tea parties. If his guests did not
wish to contribute, they would politely refuse his invitations or fail to
answer their doors.
After being separated for six months,
except for week-ends, Herb found a small apartment in Nanking where we
planned to live until he was sent to Canton, which was his next assignment.
November 1, 1948 started out as an ordinary day, but by the end we were all
discussing plans to leave Nanking immediately. It began after General Barr
held a big meeting and calmly told the men to make plans to send their
dependents home as quickly as possible. Nanking was in danger of being taken
over by the Communists.
The situation in Nanking was about as bad
as it could get without the people rebelling openly, which they may have
done had they not been Chinese and of a docile nature. In Shanghai it was
worse, as it always was in big, crowded cities. People starting standing in
lines for meat, vegetables, and rice at 3 a.m. and still many went away
empty-handed. The people were on the brink of starvation. When formerly
frozen prices were unfrozen, merchants hiked their prices. No one seemed
optimistic.
We were witnessing the death of a country.
China had been on the verge of collapse for a long time. The spectacle was
not pleasant. The poor people struggled for survival. Cities prepared for
warfare. All around us concrete pillboxes designed to be impregnable were
constructed even outside of the AAG Compound. Despite the construction of
fortifications, the strange but understandable fact was that the Chinese
focused on the main task of gathering enough food to keep themselves alive.
The military situation seemed to concern them much less than their basic,
everyday survival.
By Tuesday, November 2, 1948, U.S. Army
families were making plans to leave China. Many were given 48 hours notice
to be ready to leave. Those with children were to leave first. Our friends
with whom we had socialized the night before started packing to prepare to
leave in a couple of days. Many with whom I came to China were on their way
home by the weekend.
The next startling event was the devaluing
of Chinese currency. The official rate of the Gold Yuan dollar went up 15 to
1 to the U.S. dollar. Those of us who had Chinese money lost three fourths
of its value before we knew it. Having sold our car for Chinese money, we
had $2000 worth of G. Y. that suddenly became devalued. That was a blow. But
everyone had their problems. Several women were expecting babies in a matter
of days and weeks. What they had on their minds was more than most of us
worried about. However, soon they were flown to the naval hospital at
Tsingtao and were out of danger.
After a few days there wasn't enough
packing material for household goods. Many women just walked out of their
apartments and homes with their clothes and hold baggage, hoping that
somehow their husbands would find a way to get their belongings packed and
shipped. Many of the evacuees had small fortunes invested in Chinese rugs,
curios, and goods. There were also cars to consider. However, at this time
material things were of less concern.
We could not understand why the army had
not foreseen the these events and had not made plans accordingly. We
questioned why a new shipload of dependents had arrived in Shanghai, when
women and children from Nanking were being rushed to Shanghai to board
outgoing ships. The newcomers were allowed to get off the ship long enough
to see their husbands and then were shipped back to the states.
At this time the election was taking place
stateside. During all of our excitement in China, we were trying to listen
to the election returns on the radio. However, this was second in importance
to us. We were all surprised to hear that Harry Truman was leading from the
start. We realized that the newspapers in China had been misleading, as
newspapers at home had been for most of the people at home.
Herb received his assignment to Canton. We
left Nanking November 4. I was quite smug because I thought we were going to
a safe place from which we would not need to be evacuated. Within six hours
of leaving Nanking, we arrived in Canton and found it a pleasant place. The
weather seemed perfect. It was balmy, sunny, and very much like California
at its best. The people there were prosperous compared to those in the
North. This seemed like a haven after all the turmoil in Nanking. We were
greeted by the small advisory group in Canton as soon as we deplaned and
were showered with questions about the evacuation in Nanking. Those in
Canton had not received much news. We were taken to our quarters and
proceeded to get settled. We wondered how long we would get to stay and
hoped it would be long enough for us to see Hong Kong.
November 7th a coded message
came by radio that the evacuation now included us. We were to be picked up
the 16th. This was a big disappointment as we had expected to stay at least
until Christmas. A sad group of us gathered in one of our apartments and
talked until very late. We anticipated flying to Shanghai on the 16th
and being shipped home. We questioned what would happen after that.
After being rushed to Shanghai and
expecting to be sent home immediately, we waited there for transportation
home for three weeks. The only consolation was that we were allowed to go
where we pleased. So, we went shopping.
First, we made a beeline to Kung Bros.,
where we bought linens. It was a wonderful place of which I never tired. Mr.
Kung was always available to explain how the work was done and what the
difference in quality was in various items. We all learned much about linens
from him. Several of us bought Point Venise tablecloths. Next I went to
Sammy Lee, the rug dealer. From him I bought a set of needlepoint, hooked
rugs. One was large and two were small in pale pink. Everyday that we had we
roamed the streets buying bargains. Hurriedly, we packed our purchases and
sent them home. After our money ran out, our time of waiting was not as
interesting. We were ready to leave.
In mid November for a city whose fate hung
in the balance with the Battle of Hsuchow going on 300 miles away, Shanghai
seemed raucously unconcerned. Those who first arrived at this time expected
to find the city tense under martial law and the threat of Communist
domination. However, the only nervous excitement was the constant hustling,
honking, and hollering, which was the audible trademark of this city where
the East met the West. Only occasionally a man or woman could drop out of
the masses to enter a serene temple or island of silence where red-lacquered
figures guarded the secrets told by visitors to a benign-faced god, who
accepted offerings of incense and candles through a fat, smiling priest.
In other notable sections of Shanghai,
Chinese seemed unconcerned as well. These included the old French
concession, which was now called Little Moscow because of the expatriate
Russians living there. The Chinese Communists had repatriated thousands of
Russian refugees, who had escaped from Soviet Russia. Many of these
expatriate Russians had settled in Shanghai. I met formerly aristocratic
women who told me about hiding their jewels in their shoes. They were very
concerned about how they could get out of Shanghai before the Communist
take-over. Some of them told me that they hoped to relocate in Canada.
Down on Soochow Creek, which was
undoubtedly the dirtiest body of water in Asia, is where the Chinese lived
on boats. They also seemed very unconcerned about the increasing Communist
threat. Martial law seemed to have done little to Shanghai except to crimp
the hours of the nightclubs. There were a few Chinese soldiers around
looking overstuffed in their padded uniforms, but there were no machineguns
mounted on the streets or tanks patrolling the dirty Bund, the Broadway of
Shanghai.
Even news of the war did not seem to excite
too much attention. In front of a newspaper office on Nanking Road there
were more people looking at pictures of prize-winning roosters than pictures
of supplies being airlifted into North China. Out in the suburbs few workers
in the fields seem concerned about the four-engine airplanes carrying
Americans out of China. Possibly the Shanghai Chinese, who struggle everyday
just to live, thought that life under the Communists would not be any more
difficult than living as they had under international control, under the
Japanese, or under their own government.
Then important news came at the end of
November. Men with over a year left to serve would be sent to Japan. If they
wanted their dependents sent home to the states, they were to send a request
to Nanking. Because Herb didn’t know what his status would be with his
assignment in Canton and because he thought I had had a rough time already,
his response was negative concerning my being sent to Japan; but at the same
time, he left me the choice by sending mean official questionnaire. As
quickly as possible, I sent an affirmative answer to going to Japan. I could
not see why I should not take a chance and wait in Japan for further
developments. Most of the women I knew felt the same way.
A list was put up in the lobby of the New
Asia Hotel, where we were staying. It indicated who was to go to Japan and
who was to return to the states. Because of Herb’s answer, my name was on
the list to go home. It was still on the list for the states the day before
the ship The Republic left for the U.S. I was in a quandary. It was only
through Col. Goodwin’s efforts that it was straightened out and I was on
the list to sail to Japan.
The day for our goodbye to China finally
came. It reminded me of the day of our eventful arrival. The band was
playing and the men were waving on the dock. Only this time it was much less
exciting. I felt numb with no emotions. I was neither sad nor glad to leave.
I felt quite indifferent as we moved down the Whangpoo River. I hardly took
interest in the bobbing sampans and the frantic efforts of Chinese people to
sell their wares, which were mostly teakwood chests and lacquer boxes,
because the Republic was the last ship with American dependents to leave
China. Later I wished I had bought one of the chests.
Because the Republic was one of the largest
ships on the oceans, it had to wait for the highest tide before it could
move out into the ocean. Therefore, we had to wait at the mouth of the
Whangpoo River overnight. It was a slow trip and took us five days to
Yokohama, Japan. When we arrived on a Sunday we could see Mt. Fugiyama in
the distance. It was a spectacular sight with the sun shining on the
snow-covered mountaintop and the blue waters of the Pacific in the
foreground. Suddenly, I realized what an amazing adventure our life had
been. What wonderful opportunities we had in living in China and Japan. What
significant history we were living through in China with the Communist
overthrow and there rebuilding of Japan after the terrible WWII events. My
interest in Japan mounted as we drew near to the mainland. I wanted to see
the differences between the Chinese and Japanese, whom I had thought looked
alike.
Coming into Yokohama was much different
than our arrival in Shanghai. The bay was wide and clean. There were few
sampans. Here was ocean water, whereas the Whangpoo River was far from the
ocean. We were greeted by pleasant sights and sounds as we docked. A
tremendous band played spirited military music. I thought, if our husbands
had been there to greet us, it would have been the gayest of reunions. Our
first impressions of Japan improved as we were taken to our billets. First,
we were sent to comfortable trains. WACs helped carry the babies and small
children. Then as soon as the train stopped in Yokohama, a group of the
best-looking M.P.s I had ever seen, boarded, and took our baggage. They
directed us to a building where we were processed in about five minutes.
They then helped us into buses and took us to our hotels. So in a couple of
hours we were settled comfortably in our rooms and then partook of a
delicious meal.
From then on it was a matter of waiting for
those of us transported to Japan. We talked to our husbands via radio, but
for days on end we did not get much information as to when they could leave
China. Four days before Christmas, I answered the telephone to find Herb on
the other end. He was in the lobby of our hotel. I didn’t even wait for the
elevator. I ran down the stairs to him.
We were sent to the Sanno Hotel until Herb
was assigned. We stayed there through Christmas and the New Year. Herb was
truly a Santa, bringing me all kinds of lovely things from China. We had a
small tree in our room that we decorated with the usual lights and tinsel.
One day I stood in line from 9:30 a.m. to1:00 p.m. in the PX to buy toys. So
Diane had a gay time too.
We were blessed again when Herb was
assigned to Kyoto, which was called the Garden Spot of Japan. In January
1949, we arrived in Kyoto one early morning when it was still dark. Much to
our surprise we were greeted by Capt. Blackwell and Major Palmer, who were
members of the G-3 Section. We certainly appreciated this. A sedan was
waiting to drive us to the Miyako Hotel, which was to be our home until we
drew quarters. We could see very little on our drive from the station to the
hotel because it was pitch-dark. Immediately upon arriving at the hotel we
ate breakfast and went to bed.
Again we were very fortunate. Herb drew
quarters for the next day and we were assigned to a Japanese house. So we
were in our own house on our second day in Kyoto. Our house was designed in
Western style downstairs and in Japanese style upstairs. Big sliding windows
were in the bedrooms, sliding doors separated rooms, and sliding doors were
on closets. We had nine rooms counting the baths and not the halls. There
was a pretty living room with a marble imitation fireplace, a medium sized
dining room, a large tiled kitchen with a new General Electric refrigerator
and an electric stove. Downstairs there was also a tiled shower room, tiled
bathroom, and three bedrooms. Upstairs there was a bathroom and a good sized
porch. I waited about three months for new curtains and carpeting. I finally
got what I wanted and was very pleased with the improvements.
The first couple of months in Kyoto were
busy ones, as we became acquainted with others and went to parties. We found
our life here to be a highly social one. There was a congenial group in the
G-3 Section and we enjoyed them all. Soon they started leaving one by one.
After six months had passed there was an entirely new group.
Some of our friends from China began coming
through on their way to other commands. We learned that several of them were
to be stationed in Kobe, Osaka, and Otan. This made it convenient for us to
visit each other. The Bairds were sent to Osaka and we saw them often.
Some of our friends said that Kyoto
reminded them of where they had lived in Peiping, China. Kyoto was
picturesque and situated in a beautiful area with mountains around it. Many
temples of varying shapes and colors were built among these mountains around
the city, which gave it an Oriental atmosphere. Kyoto was the only large
city in Japan which was spared by allied bombing, so it looked as it had
originally. After being in China, I thought that Japan was far more
westernized. Pedicabs in Japan were negligible compared to China. The
traffic was controlled by a policeman, who stood on a box in the
intersection and directed traffic. People in Kyoto had been taught how to
conduct themselves in public and were more orderly.
There was minimal traffic by our home. The policeman assigned to direct
traffic in our area would interact with Diane with her amah. He taught Diane
to speak Japanese.
