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In 1947 my father took a trip to China,
flying from Guam to Shanghai,
during the civil war between the Communists and the Nationalists. I
had not been born yet, nor had my
younger sister, Colleen (Linda Colleen Martin Allcorn). My older brother, Larry, was a
a little over one year old.
This trip made a huge impression on my father, as evidenced by the following;
written by him upon his return. (Note: Original photographs, taken by my father in China during this trip will, eventually, be published on these pages.) |
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(June 11-27, 1947) by Merrill Keith Martin So that's the kind of send off we got. They tell me there was a beautiful sunrise around 5:30 AM, but I couldn't open my eyes far enough to see it. Needless to say, shortly after takeoff I had an old olive drab blanket and was stretched out on the hard deck directly behind the cargo. Slept like a log for about 4 hours and FELT like a log when I awoke. Some 7 hours and 1400 miles later we landed at that Pacific Paradise (?), that Glittering Gem, former pride and joy of the Imperial Japanese, Okinawa. There was much visible evidence of the recent war; harbor full of sunken ships and hillsides saturated with pillboxes. Being one of the wettest spots in the Pacific, the hills and mountains were green and grassy, covering many of the scars. Still, the only thing you could say about it was "bleak and windswept". We had an hour and a half layover during which time we got up to the B.O.Q. for lunch. We left at 2:30 PM for the 2 and 1/2 hour, 500 mile flight to Shanghai. During this time we made the acquaintance of Rear Admiral S.P. Gindar, Commander of Task Force 38, Guam. They just came up from the good will tour in Australia. He was going over to make arrangements for bringing his fleet to Shanghai in the near future. Shanghai is on the broad, flat Yangtze River delta; a very large alluvial plain. The surrounding country is ideal for rice cultivation. From the air, there appears to be more water than land. As far as the eye can see, the land is intersected by a network of deep ditches and canals. The houses were adobe or just plain mud and straw. You could tell the prosperity of the tenants by the absence or number of inner courts. The homes ranged from a single, small, square hut to a maze of a half a dozen or more courts within courts covering maybe 15 acres. Within Shanghai city limits, there are 5,000,000 struggling souls all trying to earn their bowl of rice for the day. The pilot made a wide sweep around the city to the north, then across the middle from west to east at a rather low altitude. For this I was eternally grateful because after a look at the way the main streets ran and the way the river angled across town it practically eliminated the possibility of becoming turned around later. We landed about 5:00 PM; all baggage was searched for firearms, and black market items. Then began the ride into town which I won't forget as long as I can remember. The airport was approximately 10 miles out... to the north. We had gone only a short distance when I remarked that already I had seen enough to make the trip worthwhile. The scene leaves me at a loss for words. It evidently was the busy time of day (though we found out later it appeared that way 24 hours a day). Even that far out in the country the people were thick as flies. The road was jammed with pedestrians, rickshaws, pedicabs, two-wheeled carts, mules, naked children, beggars, coolies, and an occasional car. The coolies were pulling loads that should have required a span of prize-winning draft horses. In other words, they were making asses of themselves) (JOKE). And, of course, the closer we got to town, the more confusing the situation became. We were in a Navy truck driven by a Chinaman. Without a horn, a motor vehicle is out of commission. The driver was on his constantly, and, at a break-neck speed, like the wave of a wand, the road was cleared before us. We were dropped at Navy Headquarters, the Glen Line Building, and were referred to the YMCA just three blocks away for quarters. Soon, we had a shower, clean clothes and were ready to start investigating this strange land. First, I think I should explain the money situation and the rate of exchange. Because the Chinese dollar is too unstable and inflation is completely out of control, the American dollar bill has become the most sought-after commodity in China. While both governments forbid buying and selling in American money, it goes on unchecked because the Chinaman will do anything to get his hands on a bill he considers stable and of some actual value and the American can get a much better buy using this exchange. The Chinese government has set the official rate of exchange at 12,000 C.N.C. (Chinese National Currency) to $1 (American). However, no one adheres to this. The black market rate or man-on-the-street rate was 30,000 to 1 when we first arrived. The day before we left, the Nationalist troops lost a battle and the same day Secretary of State Marshall made the statement that the loan to China would not be extended June 30. The combined events skyrocketed the rate of exchange to 51,000 to 1. We could never exchange more that $5 at a time...having no wheelbarrow to carry the equivalent C.N.C. The $1,000 bill (C.N.C.) was the most common. Normally the money is carried in $10,000 stacks with the bills folded over once. As we were ready to leave the YMCA we met Joe Foreman from N.A.S. Orote who had been sent up by N.A.S. to buy articles for the Ship's Store. Our Chaplain Oglesby had come with him, but was confined with the mumps. Foreman asked us to go to the Cathay Tower with him for dinner. He had met some U.N.R.R.A. people and they were having a small party there. As the name implies, the dining room was atop the Cathay Hotel, the swankiest spot in all Shanghai; very modern. The tower had a small dance floor and a wonderful 6-piece all-Russian orchestra. Off the dining room was a patio overlooking the Wang Poo River with its myriads of small craft and sampans. Also at anchor in midstream was our cruiser, St. Paul and two destroyers. That was the bulk of the American fleet in Shanghai. Looking down, you could follow the bustling waterfront scene. The street running parallel to the docks in any Chinese city is called "the Bund" (waterfront); the same as the Embarcadero in San Francisco. Getting back to the dining room; the atmosphere was distinctive and international, the food was delicious, and the service was beyond comparison. Of course, we had to pay for it. The bill came to $2,210,000.00 for the party. The next morning we went back to Navy Headquarters and made arrangements to fly to Tsingtao Monday, the 16th. This gave us three full days in Shanghai. While going over to the Glen Line Building we had been approached by a character who insisted we come see his shop. "You wanta buy silks? Come see my shop!" We walked several blocks before we could get rid of him. There is no formality or self consciousness about these people. With no excuse whatsoever, they will stick their face (complete with foul breath) into your face and propose some kind of a deal. It's like a disease; every time they see an American serviceman, their crafty slant-eyes start flashing American dollar signs like a neon light. To get on with my story, we had our cameras and were going to walk around a while and here came this fellow again; this time with his tailor! His salesmanship was too good and we ended up in his shop where we bought several nice things. His name was Charlie Tze, and we were destined to see more of him later. The YMCA was run more or less by the armed forces and was a blessing to the servicemen. They had dances, parties, city tours, all kinds of indoor sports, a soda fountain (we ate sundaes by the dozen) and a restaurant where you knew the food was clean. You have to be very careful about the food and water. The first thing you do on arrival at a new place is to find out which places serve relatively clean food; paying particular attention to fresh vegetables and milk products; and find out if they boil the water. I want to tell you about some interesting personalities; the guards the Navy has at the entrance to all their buildings in Shanghai. They are Indians of the group known as Sikhs. They are huge fellows, with a beard that goes well with their turbans. They reminded me of Punjab, "Daddy's" bodyguard in Little Orphan Annie. They were all very pleasant old fellows, but the Chinese were afraid of them. When we came out of the buildings, the Chinese would flock around by the dozens to propose some big deal. One word from the Sikh and they would scatter. The British brought the Sikhs from India many years before the war. When the war broke, they were stranded. Now the Americans have given them their jobs back. Before going further, I think I should describe a typical Shanghai street scene. First, there are more humans than you would believe could possibly crowd into a given area. Pedestrians by the hundreds overflow into the middle of the street. The place will be jammed with rickshaws and pedicabs (the rickshaw is pulled by the coolie on foot; the pedicab is a modern rickshaw on which the front half of a bicycle has been attached; the coolie pedals and rides). Along the sidewalk will be puptable kitchens selling and serving all kinds of sickening gruel. There is no such thing as having to have a peddler's license. Everything for sale in China can be bought on the street. Not only may you buy, they insist as you walk past. The conversation goes like this: "Hey, Chief, you wanta rickshaw?" "Officer, you buy good ring? Good price...stolen." "Hey, Chief, (That's their favorite opening words) you wanta buy dirty book?" "You wanta clean (?) Chinese girl?" "You wanta clean white Russian girl?" "You wanta trade your wristwatch?" "Change your money?" Here's one we heard about before we went to China, but didn't believe. A little girl about 8 years old comes up to you and gives her speech: "No mama, no papa, no flight pay, no sea pay, too young to f___, comishaw, please!" "Comishaw" is Chinese for money or a tip. The beggars use it all the time, and no street scene is complete without a few beggars. They represent the lowest form of human life in China and almost make you sick to look at them; all dressed in filthy rags, no arms, no legs, no eyes. Or the young mother suckling a baby (that's the ones that got me; I couldn't resist giving them a couple thousand dollars). Some of the beggars who could walk would come kneel down in front of you, lean forward and try to kiss your shoes. If a beggar dies on the street (or anyone, for that matter, though it is most often a beggar) no one will touch him because it is the custom that the first one who does has to bury him. Eventually the city will pick him up, but the body may be there all day before they get around to it. Another part of the street scene is the children heeding the call of nature wherever they may be. The adults usually try to get out of sight, though out in the suburbs and in the country we saw many standing or squatting as the case may be. Getting back to the children; up to about 5 years of age they all wear the same kind of rompers. As far as conveniences go, these are fashioned somewhat after the style of Grandpa's old, long-handled drawers with the split in the seat. Only in this case there is a strip of material about two inches wide actually cut out of the rompers from the seat all the way to the front, via between the legs. This practically assured the success of the style cut and completely eliminated the necessity of diapers. It doesn't take long to notice the complete absence of trucks on the streets. Automobiles, yes, but no trucks. Manpower is too cheap. Whenever a truckload of supplies has to be moved, it calls for a large two-wheeled cart and maybe a half dozen coolies, some of which will pull with long ropes wrapped around their bodies and the others push or act as brakes as the situation may demand. The heavier the load, the louder the coolies moan and groan. This adds to the noises of the city which are a constant din to the ears. One day we saw four of them move a huge piece of sheet metal that must have weighed a thousand pounds. It was rigged in the typical manner so that they could all have the end of a pole across their shoulder. Their moaning was terrific. A merchant sells a new refrigerator; four coolies trot down the street with it making delivery. Such is the way delivery service works. We mustn't forget the herds of cattle that are driven through the streets from time to time snarling traffic to no end. As for automobiles, there are quite a few. Many 1946 American models, which sell for around $7,000 American money. These may be left or right hand drive. However, they drive on the right hand side of the road the same as we do. I should think this would be very confusing to the driver. As I have said before, a car without a horn is completely useless. The horns are going constantly and the seething mass ahead opens up miraculously like the Red Sea before Moses. The traffic is even worse than in California. (joke) I wanted to say some more about the rickshaw boys; the ones who haven't gone modern and gotten a pedicab. They run every place they go. If you want to go 5 miles across town, they run all the way. To do this, all they need is a bowl of rice a day. The upper part of their body is skin and bones; you can count every rib; but their legs are built like kegs. Before hiring one of them, it is best to settle on a price; otherwise you get robbed. The first thing is to try to make him understand where you want to go. Immediately, there will be a dozen others around to help out. Then you say, "How much?" Invariably, and without exception he will say, "One dollar (U.S.)" By the same token, your reply is, "No, no, too much!" Then it is your turn to make an offer. "I'll give you $3,000 (C.N.C.)" "Oh, no, $10,000" "OK, my last price, number one price, $5,000" "Oh, no! (and he jumps up and down and throws his arms. So you start to walk away and he grabs you, "OK, Chief." And you are off. On the afternoon of our first full day we took a walk down to Foo Chow creek which flows through the heart of the city, emptying into the Wang Poo and this, in turn, into the Yangtze. Foo Chow is noted for its many bodies, though we didn't happen to see any. The creek is about 50 yards wide, but is mostly jammed with all types of craft tied up and being used for permanent homes, just barely leaving an open channel down the middle. I can't describe the filth and crowded conditions aboard. We stood on the bridge for a long time watching traffic and life on the boats. One family near the bridge was having lunch. There was rice, of course, and some kind of vegetable stew in a big pot. How they could eat this with chop sticks I don't know, but they did. There were two little boys in the family. This was the first time we noticed the split pants. When they finished the meal, the father dropped a gallon pail over the side and pulled in several gallons of river water to fill the big pot. I don't know what they did with it, but I couldn't help thinking about the raw sewage and the bodies. These boats go upstream mostly at night to the country, pick up fresh food products, and are back for the early morning market. The boats are propelled by a long, crooked, wooden paddle aft. Several people on deck move one end back and forth. The other end makes like a fish tail, and away they go. That night we went to the Naval Base Officer's Club. It is located in a former German school building. There was a good steak dinner, and orchestra and dancing. We met a couple of doctors from Guam, also on leave. They were staying at the Palace Hotel and invited us up for a nightcap on the way home. It was rather late, and going in the front entrance we saw a scene to touch your heart. There, crouched in a corner by the door, barefoot, dressed in a few rags was a little boy about 6 or 7 years old, sound asleep. It had been raining and he was wet. I thanked God that my boy had a place to sleep. (PUBLISHER'S NOTE: Hey, Larry, That's YOU! *smiles*) Saturday, the 14th, it was cloudy and rained all day. We went to the Jade Bazaar or Thieves' market as it is more commonly known. It is one building with a lot of individual shops. Stepping through the door we were immediately surrounded by all the shopkeepers. "Come see my shop, I give you special price." So we wandered around and bought quite a few things. Let me say here that the Chinese are very sharp and tricky business men. If your eye even so much as hesitates on an article he has it in front of you and, "You like? I make you very good price." Saying no is like speaking to the sphinx. But once you get into the swing, it is very interesting and usually you can get the article for the price you want to pay. They love to bargain and if you are a little slow on the "up-take" they will prompt you and tell you what to do next. Hadn't been in the store long, when I saw a large, hand-carved, rosewood, laughing Buddha with its six obedient sons climbing all over him. It was very intricate and well done, and I knew I had to have it. The shopkeeper was way ahead of me. He was polishing it up and opened the bidding. "You like? You my number one customer today. Rain. Business very bad. I make you very special offer. You tell your friends." "How much?" (Once you've gone this far it is too late. You can't get out without making a purchase). He doesn't come back with a price immediately. Instead: "Notice the workmanship. Very fine quality. Hand carved." |