His accusation seemed to affect General Bell, who sighed, chin in palm, his elbow resting on the table. "There're lots of crimes in the war, but I can't be responsible for all of them," he said in a low voice.
In fact, Gaochen's story of the massacre wasn't the entire picture. He had left out the immediate cause of the incident: the Chinese prisoners had planned an uprising at night, to break prison, attack an American company nearby, seize some weapons, then flee to a mountain where they would carry on guerrilla warfare. But a traitor among them stole away to inform the guards. That was why such a large force came to subdue the prisoners. Of course, when preparing the accusation, we were told to expunge the cause of the incident. Neither General Bell nor the Koreans could know the whole story.
Now it was my turn. I spoke in English, describing the persecution in Compound 72 – how Liu Tai-an had disemboweled Lin Wushen and how my former schoolmate Yang Huan had been cudgeled and strangled to death. After giving an account of how the pro-Nationalist officers in that compound had cut some men to collect the tattoos they themselves had inflicted on them by force, I pulled up my shirt and displayed the words on my belly – FUCK COMMUNISM. To my surprise, General Bell chuckled. He immediately checked himself; yet his large nose still gave out a snuffling sound. I banged the table with my fist and shouted, "You think this is funny, huh? Damn you!"
"No, that's not what I think," he said. "I can't imagine they'd play such a prank."
"Prank?" I cried. "With these words on me, how can I live a normal life in my homeland?"
Red patches appeared on his face. "I hadn't thought of it in that light." He lowered his head and pressed his lips.
"This is a crime, isn't it?" I asked.
"Yes, of course."
"This took place in one of the compounds under your charge. Are you not responsible for it?"
"Maybe in part, I would say," he muttered.
"Those prison chiefs were trained in Japan and Taiwan, and then sent back by your government to help you run the camp. They murdered and beat us at will. Isn't the American government responsible for their crimes?"
"If what you say is true, our government didn't do a great job. To be frank, I have no idea who trained them."
His equivocal answer infuriated me. I lost self-control, shouting at him hysterically, "Stop dodging! You think you're clean? Let me tell you, you too are a criminal whose hands are stained with Chinese and Korean blood. You think you can pretend you don't know what crimes your men committed? You think you can bend our will and force us to betray our motherland? Do you know what the true Chinese spirit is? Let me tell you, if we're alive, we're Chinese men; if we're dead, we're Chinese ghosts. Those bastards under your protection can never change us by mutilating our bodies. Let me say this to you – "
Ming grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me out of the tent to cool me down. "Boy, I never thought you could be so emotional," he said. I too was surprised by my outburst, which began to embarrass me.
When we had returned to the tent after a smoke, Colonel Choi asked solemnly, "General Bell, are you responsible for the crimes committed by your men or not?"
"Maybe for some of them."
"Are you guilty or not?"
After a long pause, Bell answered, "Perhaps partially."
Chaolin stood up and spoke in a voice of some authority. By now I had calmed down, so I translated his words to the general.
Chaolin said, "We understand that as an officer, you have to obey your government's orders. Yet what you have done is to sow the seeds of hatred among peoples. We believe the American people love peace and hate war, just like us Chinese and Koreans. We hope you can do something to make amends."
Bell nodded and said, "Thank you for your wise words. Trust me, I won't forget this experience, or this lesson. I shall try my very best to correct our mistakes." There was a slight tremor in his voice.
In the afternoon we went about working on two documents. The first one was called "The Korean and Chinese POWs' Accusations," which listed the major crimes perpetrated by the prison guards and would be released to the world (General Bell's kidnapping had already drawn international attention and some reporters had arrived at Koje Island). The second one was entitled "The Promise Made by the American Prison Authorities" – it was meant to be signed by Bell, so that we could get decent treatment and have our living conditions improved.
After a brief meeting we unanimously agreed on the four prerequisites for Bell's release: first, the prison guards must stop using violence on the inmates; second, the prison authorities must abandon the policy of the so-called "Voluntary Repatriation of Prisoners"; third, they must call off the screening of the North Korean and the Chinese soldiers; fourth, they must recognize the union of the POWs as a legitimate association and cooperate with it.
Now everything would depend on whether General Bell would accept these preconditions. If he did, he'd be set free and the victory would be ours.
We wondered how the enemy would respond to our demands. Their new commandant, General Smart, who had arrived the previous night to replace Fulton and take full command of the camp, had already issued six ultimatums, ordering us to release Bell unconditionally, but we had ignored them all. As our discussion continued, the telephone rang. Colonel Lee picked up the handset and passed it to a Korean interpreter. I sat nearby and could hear the voice at the other end. The caller was General Fulton, who wanted to speak to Bell.
An orderly was sent for the general. Two minutes later Bell stepped in. Choi told him, pointing at the phone, " Fulton wants to speak to you."
"Hello, this is Matt," Bell said into the mouthpiece.
"How are you, Matt?" asked the other end. I craned my neck so that I could overhear the whole conversation.
"I'm okay, Charlie."
"Listen, Nancy has arrived from Tokyo. I went to see her just now. She was crying, this is hard for her. She's so emotional that I haven't told her yet that we have phone contact with you. But she may call you soon."
Bell furrowed his brow. "Please tell her I'm fine, no need to worry."
"Matt, tell me, have they insulted or tortured you? We're very concerned."
"Believe me, I'm okay." Bell glanced at Colonel Choi and went on, "In fact they've been respectful."
"Thank God! Do you know how long they'll keep you? Tell me what I can do to help."
"I've no idea, maybe when their conference is over. Don't press them. Just let them go on with their conference."
"All right, I'll stay around here. Call anytime you need me."
"Thank you, Charlie. This means a lot. Let's hope we'll meet soon."
"Yes, I'll keep my fingers crossed, Matt. Good-bye."
"Good-bye."
I was amazed by the phone call, not having expected that the American generals would talk in a casual, personal manner in the midst of such a crisis. They had treated each other as friends, not as comrades who shared the same ideal and fought for the same cause. They hadn't mentioned any ideological stuff. What a contrast this was to Chinese officers, who, in a situation like this, would undoubtedly speak in the voice of revolutionaries, and one side would surely represent the Party.
After dinner Chaolin and I went to see General Bell. The previous evening Commissar Pei had instructed Chaolin to mediate between the Koreans and the Americans and make sure that Bell signed the agreement. The commissar also said that he would organize demonstrations in Compound 602 to support our struggle, and that we must remain composed and reasonable, because a victory could be earned only through careful planning and patient negotiation. Our Korean comrades tended to be too hot-blooded and would even refer to themselves as Great Stalin's soldiers who wouldn't share the same earth and sky with the American imperialists. Many of them lost their temper easily.