In March, Mao had another lucky break, this time involving the Nationalists. Although a central government had been in place for nearly a year, Chiang Kai-shek faced powerful opponents, some of whom now started a war against him. Troops who were hot on Mao’s trail were pulled back to deal with the rebels. A delighted Mao informed Shanghai that the enemy, who had come within half a kilometer of his rearguard, had “suddenly turned back” and let him go.
By this time Mao had entered the southeast coastal province of Fujian, where he managed to capture Tingzhou — a sizable city, but weakly defended. Located on a navigable river teeming with cargo boats, it was a wealthy place, with strong overseas links. Grand European buildings stood next door to ornate bazaars selling wares from all over Southeast Asia. Mao filled his coffers by robbing the rich. “Our supply is no problem,” he told Shanghai, “and morale is extremely high.”
The army acquired a uniform for the first time, from a factory that had been making them for the Nationalists. Up till then Red soldiers had been wearing clothes of all kinds and colors, sometimes even women’s dresses and Catholic priests’ vestments. (One Italian priest was particularly worried about the Reds taking his fascist shirt.) The Communists’ new uniform, gray, was like the Nationalist one, but had a red star on the cap, and red insignia.
The city’s defender, Brigadier Kuo, had been captured alive on Mao’s specific orders, and then killed. A rally was held at which his corpse was hung upside down from a chestnut tree by the dais where Mao made a speech, and the corpse was then paraded through the streets. To show that the old order had been supplanted, Mao also had the city hall razed to the ground.
He set up headquarters in a magnificent old-style villa overlooking the river. But in May his new haven was disturbed when a man called Liu An-gong arrived, sent by Shanghai to take up the No. 3 position in the Zhu — Mao Army. An-gong was fresh from Russia, where he had received military training. He was appalled by what Mao had done to Zhu De, and the way he was running the army. Mao, he charged, was “power-grabbing,” “dictatorial”—and was “forming his own system and disobeying the leadership.”
Mao could no longer conceal his coup. On 1 June 1929, nearly four months after he had pushed Zhu De out, Mao wrote to Shanghai saying that “the Army” had “decided temporarily to suspend” Zhu’s post because “it found itself in a special situation.” He did his best to minimize the impact by tucking the information away as item 10 in his long 14-item report. The rest of the report was couched in a very obedient, even ingratiating tone, larded with professions of eagerness to receive Party instructions: “please … set up a special communications office,” he wrote, to make it possible to communicate directly with Shanghai, adding: “Here is opium worth 10,000 yuan as start-up funds for the office.” Mao was trying everything, even drug money, to coax Shanghai to endorse his seizure of power.
With An-gong on his side — and the Red Army no longer being pursued by the Nationalists — Zhu De now stood up to Mao. And he had most of the troops behind him. Mao was extremely unpopular, as an official report later told Shanghai: “the mass as a whole was discontented with Mao.” “Many comrades felt really bitter about him” and “regarded him as dictatorial.” “He has a foul temper and likes to abuse people.” For the sake of balance, Zhu was also criticized, but for trivial things like “bragging,” and lacking decorum—“when he was in full flow, he would unconsciously roll his trousers up to his thighs, looking like a hooligan, with no dignity.”
There was still a degree of democratic procedure among the Communists, and issues were frequently debated and voted on. Party representatives in the army met on 22 June and voted to dismiss Mao as Party boss of the army and reinstate Zhu as military supremo. Mao later described himself as having been “very isolated.” Before the vote he had threatened: “I have a squad, and I will fight!” But there was nothing he could do, as his followers were disarmed before the meeting.
Having lost control of his own force, Mao started jockeying to recover power. His plan was to take control of the region where he was, a newly occupied territory in Fujian near the southeast coast, complete with its own Red force. It was also the richest area the Communists had ever held, with a population of some 1.25 million. Mao told the new leadership of the army that now that he had been voted out, he wanted to go and “do some work with local civilians.” Nobody seems to have realized that this request was a cover to enable Mao to gatecrash on the local Reds and commandeer their Party organization.
Mao left HQ on a litter, with his wife and a few faithful followers. One of them remembered: “When we left … our horses were confiscated from us, so our entourage really looked rather crestfallen.” This bedraggled group headed for Jiaoyang, where Mao had got a local crony to call a congress. The Zhu — Mao Army had helped create the base, so Mao had clout, even though Shanghai had not assigned it to Mao, but to the Fujian Committee. Mao’s plan was to manipulate the congress and insert the followers who had left the army with him into the leading posts.
By 10 July some fifty local delegates had gathered in Jiaoyang, having been notified that the congress was to open next day. Instead, Mao sent them away for a whole week to conduct “all sorts of investigations,” in the words of a report written immediately afterwards. When the conclave finally opened, Mao feigned illness, and further delayed the meeting. In fact he was not ill, his secretary later disclosed. The report complained that the congress “lasted too long” and operated in a “slack” style, being strung out for “as long as twenty days”—by which time government forces were closing in. At this point, the report continued, “news came that [Nationalist] troops were coming … so the Front Committee … changed the plan … and the congress … was closed …”
The delegates left without voting for the key posts. As soon as their backs were turned, Mao assigned these posts to his cronies, passing off his action as the decision of the congress. One of his men was made de facto head of the regional Red Army force. Mao’s followers were all from Hunan, and could not even speak the local dialect.
When the local Reds discovered that Mao had deprived them of control of their own region, they were outraged. In the following year they were to rebel against Mao, which led him to unleash a bloody purge.
While the congress was still going on, the delegates had already shown that they feared and disliked Mao. The report said that when he was present “the delegates rarely spoke,” whereas in his absence “they began to debate passionately, and things improved tremendously.” Mao had no mandate over this civilian Party branch. That authority belonged to the Fujian Provincial Committee. The delegates had wanted this body to be represented at the congress, to protect them from Mao. However, the post-mortem noted, “our messenger was arrested, and our report was lost, so there was no one from the Provincial Committee to … guide the congress.” The post-mortem did not say whether anyone suspected foul play, but there was already a pattern of communications being suddenly broken at critical junctures for Mao.
Once he had seized control of this new territory, Mao set out to undermine Zhu De. An ally in this scheme was a man from Zhu’s staff called Lin Biao, a loner and a maverick in his early twenties, whom Mao had been cultivating ever since Lin had come to the outlaw land the year before.
Lin Biao had three qualities that caught Mao’s eye. One was military talent. Lin had wanted to be an army man ever since childhood, and had relished life at the Nationalists’ Military Academy at Whampoa. He was well versed in military strategy, and had proved his flair in battle. His second quality was that he was unconventional. Unlike many other senior military men in the CCP, he had not been trained in the Soviet Union and was not steeped in Communist discipline. It was widely known in Zhu De’s ranks that Lin had kept loot, including gold rings, for himself, and had contracted gonorrhea. The third quality, and the one most welcome to Mao, was that Lin bore a grudge against Zhu, his superior, for having reprimanded him; this was something that Lin’s extreme sense of pride could not take.