The Yellow Papers

by Dominique Wilson

  He dipped the end of the ham in wax one more time, and when set wrapped it in newspaper then tied it with string.

  ‘I wish you’d reconsider coming to America.’

  Ming Li shook her head. ‘I can’t. I shouldn’t even be going to Hong Kong. The way things are with MeiMei, I want to stay close.’

  Abel Goldman nodded. He’d been present that last time MeiMei had visited her mother. Ming Li had confided in him some time ago that MeiMei’s husband was becoming more and more aggressive, and although she didn’t believe he’d resorted to physical violence, now that MeiMei was pregnant Ming Li was sick with worry. Then, on this last visit, there had been an angry bruise on MeiMei’s cheekbone.

  ‘You have to go,’ MeiMei had told her mother. ‘Feng is telling everyone Father collaborated with the Japanese. That you’re a landlord. He says you belong to the enemy classes and you don’t care about the nation.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you until the child is born,’ Ming Li had argued, but MeiMei had taken off her coat and shown her mother further bruises on her arm.

  ‘Look! Look at these. He calls me the daughter of the bourgeoisie. The daughter of traitors. It’s because of you! You and your ideas! You think more like a Westerner than a Chinese—’

  ‘Leave him—’

  ‘No. He didn’t mean it. He does love me, you know. He was so sorry afterwards … But I can’t handle him if you’re around, Mā. If you’re gone, I know I can—’

  ‘You shouldn’t have to “handle him”! Come away with me. We’ll start again—’

  ‘And go back to starving on the streets? No thanks. Please, Mā! I’ll be all right. I can handle him. But you have to go.’

  ‘No. Not without you.’

  ‘Then I’ll denounce you. I’ll tell everyone Feng is right. I’ll never come here again, and you’ll never see your grandchild.’

  Though Ming Li had not shown it, Abel Goldman had guessed how much MeiMei’s words wounded her. But then MeiMei’s expression had softened.

  ‘Go, Mā, please! Go to Hong Kong. If things don’t work out – if I decide to leave him – I’ll join you there.’

  So at last Ming Li had agreed to leave Shanghai. She did vow, however, never to go further than Hong Kong unless MeiMei was with her.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Abel Goldman asked, coming back to the present.

  Ming Li looked around the kitchen one more time, then picked up her small suitcase and took the ham from her friend. She nodded. It was time they went.

  Ming Li kept a firm grasp of Abel Goldman’s arm. Her friend looked ill and she didn’t want to lose him in the panicked multitude as they pushed their way towards the railway station. The road was littered with abandoned vehicles and the crowd so dense that it was almost at a standstill.

  At the railway station the panic intensified. People clutched cardboard suitcases or bedrolls, whilst others clung to children who cried and whimpered as they were crushed by the crowd. Soldiers in Nationalist uniforms beat civilians and pulled them off the trains to climb on instead. The crowd moved as one giant organism.

  When they reached a vestibule Abel Goldman reached out and grabbed the handrail then pulled himself onto the footplate, but the action caused Ming Li to lose her grip on his arm.

  ‘Grab my hand!’ he yelled as the throng carried her away from him. Ming Li fought against the crowd. Her fingertips touched his then she was pulled up into the carriage.

  ‘My ham! I’ve dropped my ham!’ but it was too late. Already more people had pushed their way in. The train whistle blew and a chuff of steam increased the panic of those still on the platform. The train pulled away but still many ran beside it, clinging desperately to the hands of those on board.

  By Friday the 27th of May it was all over. The Red Army had taken Shanghai with only minimal fighting. On the 1st of October 1949, Mao Tse-tung stood high above the crowd on the Gate of Heavenly Peace in Beijing and proclaimed the People’s Republic of China, while Communist troops sealed the borders of China to the world.

  21

  Chen Mu looked around the paddocks of Walpinya Station, touched to have been invited to Charlotte’s wedding, pleased to have the opportunity to see the place again. Since the war ended, nearly five years ago, he didn’t get around as much as he used to. The country no longer needed air raid wardens, and much younger men now delivered telegrams – not, as he had done, on a bicycle, but in one of the new Australian cars, the Holden.

  He remembered how dry these paddocks had been for many of the years he’d spent here. But these past two years Australia had received the highest rainfall on record, and the release of myxomatosis last year had killed off many of the rabbits, so that now the paddocks and surrounding hills were lush with growth. He’d never seen the station so green this late in the year.

  He accepted Edward’s help to get up from the wicker armchair that had been placed for him under a tree – he wasn’t as supple as he’d once been.

  ‘It will be strange to think of Walpinya Station in someone else’s hands. There must be a lot of memories here for you, Master Edward.’

  He took up his cane and the two men walked slowly towards the river.

  ‘For you too, I should imagine. But it was the right time to sell.’

  Chen Mu nodded. ‘You won’t miss it?’

  Edward recalled how willingly he’d have sold Walpinya if it had meant more time with Ming Li. But it would have made no difference, and now he’d sold it anyway, allocating some of the proceeds to Charlotte and her new husband to help them set themselves up.

  ‘I probably will, but the Walpinya I’ll miss will be the Walpinya of my childhood, I think. Not all the memories here are good, you know. With Charlotte moving to New Zealand, there didn’t seem to be any reason to keep it. This was my grandfather’s dream really, not mine. I had thought, at one time, that Charlotte might take it on …’

  ‘I think I’m going to miss her …’

  ‘She’ll write. Even come back for visits, if I know my daughter. She’s very fond of you, you know.’

  Chen Mu smiled. It was at her insistence that he’d been invited to her wedding, though he’d noticed a few raised eyebrows on his arrival.

  ‘I’ve asked her to contact you if anything should happen to me,’ Edward continued.

  ‘Thank you. You’ve made up your mind, then?’

  ‘It’s not like I was given a choice. At least it’ll be different this time – I won’t be on the front lines.’ Then Edward laughed – no, he wouldn’t be on the front lines. He’d just be behind Korean enemy lines.

  ‘I’m sorry …’

  Edward nodded. There was really nothing to say.

  During this last war, the US, China and Great Britain had promised Korea independence from the Japanese, but this had never eventuated. Instead, the country had split into two separate regimes, the Democratic People’s Republic in the north, and the Republic of Korea in the south. Since then tensions had continued to mount and border conflicts had escalated, until only a few months ago, on the 28th of June 1950, Seoul, the capital of South Korea, had fallen. Then China had sent troops to help North Korea. Now Australia and other parts of the world saw this war as the beginning of the Communists’ attempts at world domination. Maybe even the beginning of World War III.

  So when the Brigadier he’d worked under as part of Tulip Force paid him an official visit, Edward hadn’t been that surprised. He knew things were not going well for the UN forces stationed there. Then the Brigadier told him news that had not appeared in the papers – as the UN retreated from Chinese Communist forces to the outskirts of Seoul, the wide bridge over the Han River, and the thick layer of ice on the water, had been blown up in an attempt to prevent South Korean refugees from choking the southbound roads needed for military traffic in retreat. However, it had been blown up prematurely while still chock-full of panicked humanity, so that hundreds of people, soldiers and civilians alike, had been killed.

  ‘The river was so full of
bodies, you could have crossed it without getting your feet wet,’ the Brigadier told Edward.

  ‘But where do I come into it?’

  ‘The UN and South Korean forces are trapped on the north bank. The Chinese have encircled them. Poor buggers – they haven’t a chance. They’re being wiped out. The few who survive are been taken prisoner.’

  ‘So much for MacArthur’s “home for Christmas” promise …’

  ‘Exactly. We’re getting together with Security Intelligence to form secret detachments – organise some undercover frontline crossings. That’s where you come in. You speak Chinese, and with your experiences in Tulip Force … You’re an essential addition, I’m afraid.’

  At 45, Edward had thought he’d avoid Korea, but the Brigadier had made it clear he had little choice. Edward had, however, insisted on not going until after Charlotte’s wedding.

  When they reached the river that formed one of the borders of Walpinya Station, Chen Mu slowly lowered himself to the ground, took off his shoes and socks and pulled his trouser legs up to his knees. He dipped his feet in the water and smiled. Soon small bush flies covered their backs and hovered around their faces. A dragonfly flittered over the water.

  ‘I used to swim here once. Every evening. Over there, where the water’s deeper.’

  Edward nodded, picked up a stone and skipped it on the water. Then another. And another.

  ‘Something is bothering you, apart from Korea.’

  Edward picked up another stone and skipped it even further. Watched the rings it made.

  ‘The woman? Ming Li?’

  ‘No, not Ming Li. Oh, I do worry about her. Constantly. But there’s nothing I can do from here. I’ve tried writing, but I don’t even know if my letters get through.’ He sat on the ground beside Chen Mu.

  ‘From what you told me, she’s a survivor.’

  ‘That’s the problem. She’s just too stubborn. If she’d listened to me, if she’d left Shanghai when I told her to …’

  ‘She had her reasons. Would you have left Charlotte, in her situation?’

  ‘No, of course not, but I’m a man. MeiMei has a husband to look after her, but LiLi’s on her own. And now I can’t even be there for her. Can’t get there for love or money.’ He laughed. ‘Ironic, that – “For love or money …”.’

  ‘So what will you do?’

  ‘I really don’t know. This Korean thing for now, of course. But when that’s over, I don’t know. The Brigadier hinted at a place at Canberra University College when I came back. Maybe. I’ve never thought of myself as an academic, but I suppose it’s a possibility. It would be a change from the Museum. By then China might have relaxed its policies; I could go there as a tourist. Find LiLi …’

  ‘Maybe.’

  The two men sat quietly watching the flowing water. Behind them, music and laughter mingled with the chirp of crickets. For Chen Mu, the day had been very pleasant, bringing forth a bounty of memories and new experiences – Charlotte had even insisted he dance with her. He did not, of course, know how to dance – had never had the opportunity – but she’d laughed and said it was easy, and placed one of his hands on her waist and held his other as she’d led him round and around in time to the music. As soon as that dance ended he’d claimed dizziness to hide his discomfort, and returned to his chair under the tree.

  Later, he’d decided he could well enjoy dancing.

  For Edward, this was a day of endings. For the first time ever, he’d seen his daughter not as his little girl but as a grown woman. Now, before he’d even had time to get to know this new person, she was leaving the country. Walpinya Station had been sold and the new owners were taking over next week. He’d told Chen Mu this had never been his dream, and that was true. He’d never seen himself working on the land, but this was the place he thought of when he thought of home. He’d grown up here, come back to it again and again when things had not gone well in his life. It had meant peace and quiet. Room to breathe. But it had also meant betrayal. And now it would be gone. No one had forced him to sell, though he would have liked to be able to show it to Ming Li one day.

  Ming Li. He didn’t want to think about her today, because to think of Ming Li also meant considering the possibility that he might never see her again. That even if he could get into China again, which was highly unlikely, he might never find her. That she had died – no, not that. Surely he would have known – would have felt something. He pushed that thought away. That, he refused to even consider. Better to believe her trapped behind a bamboo curtain.

  And now there was Korea. He felt a sense of foreboding about Korea that he’d not felt when part of Tulip Force. He’d been told he would first have to recruit from POW compounds those he thought suitable for the work – many Chinese and North Korean prisoners had not volunteered for the armed forces, but had been forced to enlist under threats of what would happen to their family if they didn’t join up, along with warnings that they wouldn’t be allowed to earn a living if they refused. Intelligence believed that amongst these would be some willing to become agents. But what if his decisions were wrong? He had to lead them across the 38th parallel into the Samichon Valley, a green stretch of land reaching deep into North Korea. It would be a bit late, then, to realise his mistake …

  Edward tried to convince himself that this sense of foreboding stemmed from his lack of confidence in his ability to choose these recruits, or from feeling too old for the job, or even from the lack of adequate news reports about the war, due to the press being censored. But deep down, if he were true to himself, he knew the real reason he didn’t want to go to Korea was that he didn’t want to have to face the Chinese – perhaps even the very men he had helped train – as their enemy. How could he treat them as the enemy when China was been such a big part of his life? When he loved a Chinese woman, and considered Chen Mu one of the most important people in his life? He knew he could, of course – he wasn’t that naïve, and war was war – but would he be able to face Chen Mu on his return?

  ‘They’ve gone to change; they’ll be leaving soon.’

  Edward turned to the young woman who’d sought them out. Her soft lacy bridesmaid’s dress and the flowers in her hair were such a contrast to his thoughts that it took him a moment to react.

  ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘Thank you.’

  Chen Mu wiped his feet with a handkerchief and put on his shoes and socks. Edward helped him rise. Together they walked slowly back to the festivities. Edward would farewell his daughter, and return to Sydney to close up his house. Within a week he’d be in Korea. He’d miss Christmas, of course, but then, who would he have celebrated it with?

  22

  Korea, February 1951. The early morning sun outlined the misty contours of the snow-covered rocky pinnacles, and Edward shivered in the raw morning air. He lay near the entrance of the cave where he’d spent the night with two of his agents, well north of the 38th parallel. He reached out and scraped just enough leaves and twigs and ice over his body to disguise his shape. Through field glasses he followed the path he knew Bae and Hana were taking, but couldn’t see them – he’d been right, they were a good team.

  They were meeting a villager who’d contacted them with information about enemy weapon stockpiles. Though he always accompanied his team on these missions, Edward never entered the villages – Bae and Hana would bring the man to him. He may be wearing a Chinese uniform, but he could do little to disguise his features. He knew that capture would mean imprisonment or death as a spy.

  He had recruited them, as he had all his agents, from one of the POW compounds in the first two weeks he’d been here, just over a month ago. Bae was a South Korean who, together with his younger sister, had been conscripted into the North Korean Army – these forced conscriptions were common whenever a village stood in the path of an advance. He hadn’t said so, but Edward suspected one of the reasons Bae had agreed to join Edward’s detachment was that he hoped to find his sister again. Hana was North Korean and
her reasons were more sinister – she was here purely for revenge. Though she’d refused to give many details, Edward knew Hana’s husband, children and father had all been killed by the People’s Army. They’d suspected her village to be collaborating with the South Koreans, and so had rounded up the villagers and shot them. She’d only escaped the same fate by being away at the time, only to be forcibly recruited shortly after. Edward had been hesitant to take on a woman, but something about her intensity persuaded him. That, and the fact that both she and Bae spoke some English. So far, neither had given him reason to regret his decision.

  Yes, Bae and Hana were good agents, but Edward wondered once more whether he could really trust them. Trust any of the team he’d recruited, for that matter. He knew enough about agents to know they took up the game for a variety of reasons – patriotism, idealism, hate, revenge and, of course, greed. Of all, it was those who were there because of hate or revenge that Edward trusted the most. Patriotism and idealism could quickly be shattered, and how could you trust someone whose main motivation was money? But someone motivated by hate or revenge would not be so easily swayed.

  The sun rose higher and its warmth on his back made him aware of the cold from the ground seeping through his clothing. He knew he should move. He had a long day of waiting before they returned, and the temperature was still below zero. As he brushed the branches and leaves from his back, the quiet of the early morning was shattered by a cacophony of whistles and bugles far down the valley. The sound echoed and reverberated up the gargantuan mountains, and a murder of crows burst out of the pine forest, their black plumage contrasting against the snow dusting the rugged granite ranges. Edward knew the story of the Morrigan, that Irish phantom queen who would wait on the edge of battlefields to feed on the carnage. Sometimes she would fly above the warriors in the form of a crow, a presage of the violent deaths that were to follow, and for Edward, ever since coming to Korea, crows had become a symbol of war.