International Club, the street was so jammed with overturned automobiles, three-wheeled motorcycles, animal-drawn carts, and electric poles and tangled wires that it was impossible to drive farther. So we decided to walk. We veered right, pulled into the compound of the German embassy, and parked our jeep there with permission from Georg Rosen, the hot-tempered secretary of political affairs and one of the three German diplomats remaining behind. Unlike his colleagues, Rosen was half Jewish and not allowed to wear a swastika.
Minnie and I headed north on foot to see whether our army still controlled its route of retreat. The Metropolitan Hotel appeared, swathed in smoke and flames. The instant we passed it, a squad of soldiers ran up to us, still bearing arms. The nine men, all wearing straw sandals, stopped in front of us, dropped their rifles, and, with hands clasped before their chests, begged Minnie to accept their capitulation as though she were a conqueror as well. Their leader, his face tear-stained, pleaded with Minnie, “Auntie, please save us!”
That flustered her, and I intervened, telling her, “They must think every foreigner has access to sanctuary. Poor fellows, all abandoned by their officers.” As I was speaking, tears streamed down my face. I was so sad that I doubled over sobbing.
Patting my head, Minnie said to the men in Mandarin, “We are not entitled to accept your weapons. If you want to stay in town, go to the Safety Zone, where you can find protection.”
The men waggled their heads as if they were too frightened to move back in that direction. They did an about-face and ran away, leaving their guns behind. Minnie picked up a rifle, which was quite new; its stock bore these characters: “This embodies your people’s blood and sweat.” Those words were instructions from the generalissimo, engraved on many weapons in the Nationalist army. Minnie, her thick eyebrows knotted, dropped the gun and sighed.
Still wiping my eyes, I told her, “In this country a peasant’s lifetime’s earnings can buy only a rifle. Imagine all the equipment they have abandoned—what a horrendous waste.”
“Yes. Lewis said he had seen some heavy cannons left on the outskirts of the city that had never been fired.”
We continued toward the gate. It was gut-wrenching to see the entire area destroyed, most of the buildings and houses burned down and some still smoldering. After passing the British embassy, with Yijiang Gate already in view, we were too exhausted to push farther and realized that it would be impossible to get beyond the city wall to see what it was like on the riverside, so we stopped. In the distance, on both sides of the gate, blocked by sandbags and machine guns, strings of men were scaling the fifty-foot-high wall with ropes, fire hoses, and connected ladders. The top of the wall and the two-story pavilion on it were dotted and blurred against the smoky sunset by the scramblers. From the way the crowds were moving, we could tell that the piers must still be in Chinese hands. We turned back and headed for the German embassy.
Dusk was falling and a few bats were flitting around, zigzagging like ghostly butterflies. We had to slog against the crowds; Minnie was ahead of me, jostling and shouting, “Let us pass! Let us pass!” People were so desperate that some cursed us for moving against the human torrents. Suddenly automobiles began honking and guards, waving Mauser pistols but dressed in civvies, shouted, “Make way! Make way!”
Those unable to move fast enough were shoved aside by the guards. Following them came two long cars. “Look, General Tang!” Minnie told me, pointing at the lean-faced man in the back of the second Buick. The general hung his head as if nodding off.
As we were observing the commander of the Nanjing defense, a half brick hit his car, followed by a voice yelling, “Bastard, fuck your ancestors up to eight generations!”
The brick left only a powdery spot
Minnie and I headed north on foot to see whether our army still controlled its route of retreat. The Metropolitan Hotel appeared, swathed in smoke and flames. The instant we passed it, a squad of soldiers ran up to us, still bearing arms. The nine men, all wearing straw sandals, stopped in front of us, dropped their rifles, and, with hands clasped before their chests, begged Minnie to accept their capitulation as though she were a conqueror as well. Their leader, his face tear-stained, pleaded with Minnie, “Auntie, please save us!”
That flustered her, and I intervened, telling her, “They must think every foreigner has access to sanctuary. Poor fellows, all abandoned by their officers.” As I was speaking, tears streamed down my face. I was so sad that I doubled over sobbing.
Patting my head, Minnie said to the men in Mandarin, “We are not entitled to accept your weapons. If you want to stay in town, go to the Safety Zone, where you can find protection.”
The men waggled their heads as if they were too frightened to move back in that direction. They did an about-face and ran away, leaving their guns behind. Minnie picked up a rifle, which was quite new; its stock bore these characters: “This embodies your people’s blood and sweat.” Those words were instructions from the generalissimo, engraved on many weapons in the Nationalist army. Minnie, her thick eyebrows knotted, dropped the gun and sighed.
Still wiping my eyes, I told her, “In this country a peasant’s lifetime’s earnings can buy only a rifle. Imagine all the equipment they have abandoned—what a horrendous waste.”
“Yes. Lewis said he had seen some heavy cannons left on the outskirts of the city that had never been fired.”
We continued toward the gate. It was gut-wrenching to see the entire area destroyed, most of the buildings and houses burned down and some still smoldering. After passing the British embassy, with Yijiang Gate already in view, we were too exhausted to push farther and realized that it would be impossible to get beyond the city wall to see what it was like on the riverside, so we stopped. In the distance, on both sides of the gate, blocked by sandbags and machine guns, strings of men were scaling the fifty-foot-high wall with ropes, fire hoses, and connected ladders. The top of the wall and the two-story pavilion on it were dotted and blurred against the smoky sunset by the scramblers. From the way the crowds were moving, we could tell that the piers must still be in Chinese hands. We turned back and headed for the German embassy.
Dusk was falling and a few bats were flitting around, zigzagging like ghostly butterflies. We had to slog against the crowds; Minnie was ahead of me, jostling and shouting, “Let us pass! Let us pass!” People were so desperate that some cursed us for moving against the human torrents. Suddenly automobiles began honking and guards, waving Mauser pistols but dressed in civvies, shouted, “Make way! Make way!”
Those unable to move fast enough were shoved aside by the guards. Following them came two long cars. “Look, General Tang!” Minnie told me, pointing at the lean-faced man in the back of the second Buick. The general hung his head as if nodding off.
As we were observing the commander of the Nanjing defense, a half brick hit his car, followed by a voice yelling, “Bastard, fuck your ancestors up to eight generations!”
The brick left only a powdery spot
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