A Time of Ghosts. Hok-Pang Tang

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      THE WAY OF CHARLIE CHAPLIN

      In a school where dirty, patched clothes and bare feet had become stylish, my fussiness in dress lost me friends. The other students teased me, shouting “Spoiled bourgeoisie!”

      Some teachers who had known my father in earlier days tried to defend me, but others lost patience. One told me to remove my shoes. Pride would not permit me to obey. My obstinacy irritated the teacher even more, and a higher school official was called in. After hearing the account of my stubbornness, he said, “Let him keep his shoes and socks. He will be an example to all the students – teaching them what to avoid, and showing how different his bourgeois attitude is from that of the working class.” So my shoes and socks stayed on. But no one would speak to me, except for a couple of students who would whisper a few words in secret.

      The madness that had seized China only increased with the outbreak of the Korean War in 1950. The country was stirred into a patriotic fervor by propaganda asserting that Korea was only a stepping-stone for the Kuomintang-supporting Americans to invade China. Rumors abounded that the Kuomintang itself was about to make a push to retake the Mainland. This made the Communist government very nervous, and consequently there was a stronger effort to execute remaining competing and criminal elements.

      The key phrase was now “Love your country!” More meetings were held in which young people were expected to express their conviction that the security of Communism meant the safety of China.

      I was required to attend. Actually I found the meetings interesting. We were shown slides of Americans burning homes, stealing, and killing women and children, all in Korea. I was particularly fascinated by one picture of a captured American tank out of which a totally nude Korean woman was being rescued from what we were told was forced prostitution. For some reason there was a strong, sex-based undertone to much of the propaganda. I recall a caricature of an American recruitment poster, in which young Yankees were told, “COME TO THE FAR EAST – THERE ARE LOTS OF BEAUTIFUL WOMEN.”

      We were constantly indoctrinated with the notion that American fighters were soft “sissy soldiers,” and not particularly bright. As evidence we were told that they slept in sleeping bags, allowing them to be as easily captured as a pig in a sack. As for the Chinese, their bravery was illustrated by the story of one young man who used his breast to block machine gun fire from an American pillbox.

      Before long, special and secret meetings were held for the older teenage boys, gatherings kept hidden from their parents. After attendance, these students were expected to sign up for duty in Korea. A great deal of pressure was put on them to do so. To refuse was considered unpatriotic and cowardly. That is how one of my distant cousins was enlisted.

      Far more odd was the case of another cousin, a young girl so caught up in the emotion of the time that she insisted on joining the army too. She would not relent, though her family and even my mother begged her. The girl was particularly irritated by my mother’s comment that a girl who would join the army was no different than a prostitute. That supposedly private remark had its effects later.

      For the older boys who joined up for Korea, there was a special, solemn ceremony held at my school in celebration. Each youth was called up to the stage in turn for an award. The remaining younger boys, myself included, stood at attention.

      We each had a handful of tiny firecrackers to set off at the end of the occasion. I kept mine in my pocket, but some jokester – I never discovered who – dropped a lit incense stick into my pocket as I stood straight and stern – and in the middle of a very serious speech I found myself popping and exploding. That brought the ceremony to a jerking halt. A teacher came running over and grabbed me, but by then the bangs had ended. There was a large hole where my pocket had been and a stinking smell coming from my literally smoking jacket.

      Fortunately the firecrackers were small enough that they did my body no serious harm, but the Communist Party member in charge of the occasion called us all to an immediate interrogation in another room. He grilled us mercilessly for a long time, claiming that it must have been a planned anti-Communist act, but eventually grew tired of our naive answers and seemed to realize that it was only a harmless and bothersome prank. In the end he let us go.

      The brave young enlistees were ordered to go home, pick up their backpacks, and get on the train for the North and the war. We who remained at school received glowing letters from them for about the first two months. Training was great, they said. They were so happy to be serving China. Then the letters stopped, and nothing more was heard. From time to time word would filter back to a younger friend here or there that one, then another, then yet another of the youthful soldiers was dead. Eventually a few straggled back, telling of deadly American carpet bombing and the Chinese response --the “human ocean” strategy – hordes of soldiers surging forward in such numbers that even massive casualties could not stop them.

      I still attended movies, but there were no more American Westerns. Now we saw Chinese-made films about the war, demonstrating how strong we were compared to the laughably inept Americans, stupid bunglers who were always defeated in the end. Newsreels showed us real American captives guiltily confessing their part in the criminal Korean venture.

      Though far away, the Korean War affected our daily lives. Supplies were short, and ration coupons came into use as supplies dwindled. There was no toilet paper, so people began using bamboo scrapers or leaves. But people nonetheless tightened their belts further to give the last penny to the war cause. Children’s allowances were turned over, and on payday workers were expected to donate a portion of their income. Those who did not were derided as unpatriotic, so most gave in to the pressure and contributed. Though we students were hungry, we nonetheless had to give our lunch money. To encourage larger donations, stories were made up of American soldiers landing in China, or of Kuomintang spies.

      Many Chinese, remembering how America helped China defeat the Japanese in the Second World War, secretly hoped that the Americans would come to liberate us from Communism. Most held a high view of Americans, and considered them quite powerful. This made the Communists very wary, and they were always encouraging children to spy and report on any anti-revolutionary activity. Foreign newspapers and radio programs were forbidden. Listening to the BBC or American stations was considered a great crime. Children who revealed that their parents listened to foreign programs were rewarded. The parents were jailed or executed. Loyalty, we were taught, was not to the family but to the Communist Party.

      Now and then an anti-Communist slogan would be posted somewhere in or around the school. When that happened it was terrible for us, because we had to stand on the assembly grounds until someone either confessed or was betrayed and accused.

      Some