The Long March. Sun Shuyun

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СКАЧАТЬ we should use our daggers, hunting guns, rifles and any sorts of old and new weapons to arm ourselves … Let our millions of worker and peasant masses become an unbreakable armed force to fight along with our invincible Red Army. We shall completely smash the enemy attack. We must win the final victory! Hold high the Soviet banner! Long live the Soviet regime.¹⁸

      This is an ancient Chinese tactic known as the cicada trick: the cicada flies off after it sheds its skin in the autumn, and people are fooled by the skin, thinking it is still there.

      But what did ordinary soldiers like Huang know? How far was he involved in the preparations and how much did he know about them? I was keen to find out. As if he knew I was coming, he was waiting for me in his courtyard in the afternoon, wearing a Red Army uniform, complete with octagonal cap. It suited him. ‘I thought you might like it. They gave them to us ten years ago to celebrate the sixtieth anniversary of the Long March. You know I never had a complete uniform until I finished the March!’

      When did he know he was going? I asked. ‘I didn't know. Had I known it was going to be that long, I'd have come home straight away, no matter what,’ he said without the slightest hesitation. Did he have any inkling that something was coming up? He took off his cap and scratched his head. ‘Now you ask me, I think it was when I saw new uniforms for the first time. I think the autumn harvest was already in by then.’

      He and his company were pulled out of the trenches in late September 1934, and brought to Yudu, which was 60 kilometres from Ruijin. New recruits were brought in to replenish the depleted company – some were older than his father. And there were new uniforms and shoes for everyone. At last he would look like a soldier rather than a beggar. He put on the jacket – it was double layered and he felt so warm, like being by a fire. He never had one like it – it was not necessary in the south, even in winter. ‘Why do we have to carry this heavy stuff? Are we going somewhere cold?’ someone asked, but did not get an answer. Huang was more interested in finding a jacket and shoes that fitted him. Sadly, the jacket was like a coat, and the shoes like boats. They were made for adults. Seeing the tears forming in his eyes, the captain led him into another room. His mouth dropped when he saw the huge stockpile – he had never see so many bullets in his life. He felt as excited as on New Year's Day, when he was given firecrackers. ‘All yours, take as many as you like,’ the captain told him jokingly. He loaded himself up, but the captain took away all but one bandolier and a few grenades. ‘You won't get very far with more than that, my son!’

      Soldier Huang had his rifle across his back, a pack with five kilos of rice, a bowl, the patched jacket that his mother had given him, and an extra pair of straw sandals that the captain had made specially for him. A pair of chopsticks were thrust into his puttees. ‘We are going somewhere, aren't we?’ he asked one of the older soldiers. ‘Perhaps we'll go behind the enemy lines, and take the big towns and cities. That's what we used to do after each campaign.’ As he spoke, all the soldiers started talking at once. ‘Now we'll have meat at last.’ Ah, we're going to see beautiful women.’ ‘We'll bring back enough money to feed ourselves through the winter.’ Excitement was in the air, the gloom of the trenches had lifted.

      Early one evening, when the moon was big and round, Huang and his company marched along the broad and gentle Yudu River. People came out to say good-bye. Some girls, newly wedded, were standing on tiptoe, looking about anxiously to see their husbands as they passed through. When they spotted them, they cried out with joy, only to be teased by the raucous soldiers in the company. They blushed, ran back, and watched from further off. Others, perhaps organized by the local women's association, were more bold, walking along with the soldiers, and asking, ‘What's your name? Where are you from? Can you win a medal and become a hero?’ It was the men's turn to be shy and tongue-tied. The girls laughed and burst into song:

      A model soldier,

      That's what I want you to be. I long for your good news day and night, My Red Army brother, Capture a few generals and make me happy!¹⁹

      In the crowd, Huang spotted the mother from the family he had been billeted with, who had looked after him like a son. She ran towards him, and pushed two eggs into his hands. ‘Look after yourself, my son,’ she said, barely holding back her tears. Suddenly he felt the pain of what he had learned days before: her son joined the Red Army two years ago and she had not heard from him since. ‘Don't worry, mother. We'll be back soon.’

       THREE Water Flowing Upstream

      October, the autumn wind blows cool;

      Swift the Red Army, swiftly it goes. By night across Yudu's flow, Old land, young blood – to victory.

      

      

      IFOLLOWED THE RED ARMY'S withdrawal to Yudu, and walked by the river outside the town. Its wide expanse was placid, with tree-covered hills on the far shore stretching as far as you could see, dotted here and there with villages; close by a few old boats were tied up to stakes in the shallows. Upstream the scene is much as it was when the Red Army crossed here seventy years ago. The barges that carried the pontoons for the crossing still float on the grey-green water. But right in front of me there was something new: a white obelisk, incongruously large, its size emphasized by small conical evergreens that lead away from it on either side. Its curved sides soared to a peak, and near the top was a large gold star on a red disk. Below this was the inscription: ‘The first fording by the Central Army on the Long March.’ Downstream, some way beyond the monument, stands a majestic four-lane bridge. Large characters on a huge red arch over it announce ‘Long March Bridge’, and smaller characters tell you it was opened in 1996, the sixtieth anniversary of the March.

      Like most visitors, I came here to see the starting point of the March, but somehow I felt uneasy that the monument, the bridge, and so many commemorative sites in the town were all celebrating the start of the March. Was not the Red Army's departure also the end of the Jiangxi Soviet Republic? It was the first Communist government in China, and it had collapsed. Was there nothing to be said about that? Chiang's military strength was one reason why the Soviet failed; it was also running out of men and materials, but the reasons might go deeper. Before I embarked on the Marchers’ route, I needed to know more about what had happened here.

      I first made for the house where Mao had lived. I had read in the guide book that it was only a short walk from the river in the old quarter of town, but when I asked a young man where it was, he said, ‘What house?’ I was puzzled. Mao's house was normally well known anywhere he had stayed, but the man seemed to know nothing about it. Perhaps he was not a local. I walked further and saw an old lady; although she did tell me the way, I still almost went past it. It was in a side street with a small entrance. There was a red placard: ‘Chairman Mao's Residence, July-October 1934’.

      It was locked, so I banged noisily on the door for some time, attracting a few passers-by, before someone answered from inside: ‘We are not open. Go away.’ This was a change; I remembered the crowds that poured through Mao's residence in Ruijin. I shouted I had come a long way and could I just have a quick look? There was total silence, and then the clicking of keys. Finally, the door creaked open, an old man showed himself, and he let me in.

      The house and its very small courtyard face west. In China, houses are usually built facing south to enjoy the sunshine. Those facing east or west are inferior; in a traditional compound they are normally for children or junior family members. The courtyard was bare, without the trees that normally adorned Mao's residences. He loved trees. The ancient camphor tree in front of his house in Ruijin bore a placard saying that he often sat under СКАЧАТЬ