"How big is this group?"
"Seven or eight people."
"What are they going to do in those countries?"
"I don't know. There'll be jobs for them for sure."
"Like what?"
"That'll depend on what skills they have."
This information set my mind spinning for the rest of the day. For better or worse I must not go to Taiwan, because that would amount to declaring I was an enemy of the Communists, who would definitely punish my mother and my fiancee for that. On the other hand, unless I could free myself from the suspicion of treason, I shouldn't return to the mainland either, where a person with my background and my association with the pro-Nationalists might be kept under surveillance all the time, if not reimprisoned. If I knew for sure that Pei Shan and Chang Ming were back in China, I might take the risk, because they might help clear me. But again, how could I be certain they'd be willing to save a man like me? They had already meant to sacrifice me once, hadn't they? By comparison, a third country would be a better choice, though I had no idea what kind of life I'd lead there. And I wasn't even sure if I could survive in a foreign land.
But wouldn't the Communists hurt my mother and Julan if I went to another country? They might not, because I didn't mean to be their enemy. Perhaps I was naive, but I was driven by the instinct for self-preservation and felt that a third country would be a better destination for a man like me, who had often been an outsider and couldn't fit in any political group among my compatriots. Once I settled down in a foreign land, I would send for my mother and Julan. But would the Communists let them leave and join me? They might or might not. Still, a third country seemed to be the best choice, a risk I was willing to take.
The next question was where I should go. Brazil and Argentina would be difficult because I spoke neither Portuguese nor Spanish. Although English was used in India, it was a country with a large population and a high unemployment rate, where I had heard there was the caste system. If I went there, I would almost certainly live at the bottom of society. Was there another neutral English-speaking country where I might go? This would be the first question I would ask when I was summoned to listen to the persuasion. I would avoid talking with the persuaders from China and instead speak to the arbitrators directly in English. If there wasn't another country, maybe I would go to Brazil, which was vast and might have more space and more opportunities to make a living. I wouldn't mind subsisting as a drudge for some years; I was still young and should be able to restart my life. On the other hand, I would have to prepare to be a solitary man without a country, condemned to speak a language in which I could never feel at home.
Although I had now made up my mind, I grew more nervous, and a numbing feeling kept rising to my throat, which I had to tamp down continually. That evening I drank a cup of rice wine with the mess officer, trying to calm down before I went to the battalion headquarters to give the daily report. When I relayed to Wang Yong the information I had collected that day, I didn't mention that some neutral countries would also accept POWs. I was afraid he might suspect me. I just informed him that the Communists' persuasion was a total fiasco – as the Indian officer had told me, to date they had persuaded only about eighty men to go home.
The next evening two fellows from another compound who had just gone through the persuasion came to speak to us. We gathered in our largest tent, sitting in front of a table at which the two men were seated. The first speaker was quite handsome, with a thin nose and sparkling eyes. He was tall but slightly hunched. He started:
"Brothers, when my name is called, two Indian guards come up and take me to the fifteenth tent. Lots of people are in there, from different countries. At one glance I can tell who the Reds are. They stand up, smiling and bowing at me like Pekinese. One of them says, 'Dear Comrade, we represent our motherland to welcome you back.'
I spit on his face and say, 'You can't represent China, you work for Russia. Why should I listen to you?'
They continue to smile at me after I sit down. Another of them says, "Comrade Wan Ping-han, your parents are waiting for you to come home. They're heartbroken, crying day and night."
'Screw your grandma!' I yell. 'You Commies beheaded my dad five years ago. My mom wept herself blind and died three months later. Now you have the gumption to tell me they're still alive and miss me!'
'Think about this' – the man won't give up – 'you're a good son of China. When I mentioned your parents, I meant the millions of Chinese people of the older generation who expect you to come home.'
"That drives me mad. I jump up, fish some plaster powder out of my pocket and throw it on his face. While he's screaming and rubbing his eyes, I grab the folding chair I was sitting on and hit him with all my might. Thwack, thwack, thwack – the Indian guards rush over and drag me away."
Applause broke out. A man shouted, "Fight the Red bandits to death!" We all raised our fists and repeated the slogan.
He yelled again, "Long live Generalissimo Chiang!" We echoed him once more.
Then the other man began to speak. He had a carbuncular face, protruding teeth, a stout nose, and erect ears. He talked in a heavy Hunan accent that brought to mind Mao Zedongs. He told us: "It's a long wait at the rest area outside the tents. When I'm called, they lead me into a tent. The Commies look awful in the company of the men from the other countries. They're like a pack of hungry wolves. Behind them I see through the window more than ten trucks planted with red flags. This sight scares me. Beyond the trucks stands a tall gate with the words Back Into the Arms of Our Motherland written on the arch. They have obviously planned to ship us back load after load. As I sit down, one of them puts his index finger on the table, leans forward, and says, 'Comrade, you must've suffered a great deal in the enemy's hands. We represent our motherland coming to rescue you. You're a free man now. Please return to China with us.'
"The word 'comrade' sets my heart kicking and reminds me of so much hatred, but I get ahold of myself. 'Actually I didn't suffer that much in the prison camp,' I tell him. 'The Americans have given me food and clothes. It was in your Communist army that I tasted real bitterness. You always treated me like a beast of burden, like gun fodder, and you just used me.'
"'Comrade, on my word of honor, you will be a free man, free to do anything in our country. You can continue to serve as an officer, or go home to take care of your parents, or live and work in a city. Comrade, think – '
"I lose my temper at last, knowing he's a big liar. I shout, 'I'm not a comrade of yours. Don't treat me like I'm an idiot. I know you all lie without batting an eye, you damned Russia lovers. I fuck your mothers and grandmothers!' I turn to the Swiss arbitrator and declare in a shout, 'I want to go to Free China.'
"The foreign man nods at me and then talks to the interpreter, who is an overseas Chinese, probably a college student. Then he tells me, 'You can go now.' Before I leave I kick the Commies' table. The thing tips over and sends the paper and pens flying in every direction. I'm so angry I keep stomping the floor and almost go through the door to Red China by mistake. The interpreter catches up with me and says, 'Hey, take the other door.' That saves me from falling into the Commies' snare again."
A loud volley of laughter ensued. Wang Yong got to his feet and said to us, "Soon we'll go to those tents to listen to their persuasion. Be careful and don't let the Reds take you in. Also, remember that the brothers of your group will suffer if you defect. Understood?"
"Yes sir," we shouted.
Bai Dajian raised his hand. Wang asked him, "You want to say something?"