by Jung Chang
Zhu De and his colleagues “wrote again and again urging comrade Mao to return,” as they reported to an obviously anxious Shanghai. But Mao stayed put until late November, when Zhu sent troops to escort him back formally, as a show of submission.
On 28 November Mao wrote Shanghai a letter that delighted Chou En-lai with its “very positive” spirit and declaration that Mao “completely accepts the Centre’s instructions.” But Mao’s main act of deference was reserved for Moscow. He condemned his old mentor Professor Chen as “anti-revolution,” and proposed a “propaganda drive” against him. A point was made of denouncing Trotsky by name. The troops were given daily pep talks on “armed support for the Soviet Union.”
Having subjugated Zhu, Mao kept him on as a figurehead, and let the army continue to be called the Zhu — Mao Army. This way, Mao both satisfied Moscow and Shanghai, which specifically ordered “unity,” and exploited Zhu’s high prestige among the troops. Zhu went on performing as a front-man for Mao for almost half a century until the two men died within weeks of each other in 1976.
Yet sometimes Zhu gave vent to his anger and frustration. In February 1931 he grumbled to military leaders that he was “just a plaything in Mao’s hands, he had no power, Mao just toyed with him.” This was reported to Moscow, but the Russians did not lift a finger to restrain Mao.
MAO’S RETURN TO COMMAND was announced to a big meeting of army delegates gathered in the town of Gutian in December 1929. To forestall dissent, he employed a ruse. He knew that what the soldiers hated most was the practice of executing deserters. According to a contemporary report to Shanghai, “every time before setting off, a few deserters would be executed and placed along the road as a warning to others.” Incidentally, this demonstrates how hard it was to keep people in the Red Army, contrary to oft-recycled claims. The fact was that even executions did not always work, as the report continued: “But we still can’t stop deserters.”
At Gutian, Mao made much of introducing a resolution to abolish the practice. This move was tremendously popular with the soldiers. But a few months later, when the Gutian resolutions were circulated, this item was not among them. Once Mao had established himself, it disappeared. Deserters continued to be executed.
Having inveigled the delegates at Gutian into looking more favorably on him by showing specious tolerance towards the issue of desertion, Mao was able to get what he really wanted: resolutions to condemn whatever stood between him and absolute power, notably the authority of the professional military. Mao was not a professional army man. Zhu was. So Mao invented a Soviet-style pejorative tag, “purely military viewpoint,” to lay down the line that it was wrong to place too high a value on military professionalism. He loathed the convention of voting even more, as it was a free vote that had turfed him out of office. So he labeled holding a vote as “ultra-democracy,” and abolished the practice.
Mao was addicted to comfort, while Zhu lived like an ordinary soldier. Aversion to privilege was particularly strong in the army because many had originally been attracted to join by the lure of equality, which was the Party’s main appeal. To quell any protests about privilege, Mao now invented the term “absolute egalitarianism” to designate an offense, adding the word “absolute” to make it harder for opponents to disagree. It was from this time on that privilege was formally endorsed as an inalienable part of Chinese communism.
As 1930 dawned, Mao, having just turned thirty-six, could look back on the previous year with considerable satisfaction. The Party had handed him the biggest Red Army outside the Soviet bloc after he had broken all the rules. Moscow and Shanghai were palpably bribing him, which meant they needed him. Now he could further exploit the leverage this gave him.
“Where do I go now?” asked Mao, as he set off on horseback humming a poem along mossy woodland paths. Mao knew exactly where he was going: to carry out more takeovers.
Like its Russian counterpart, it changed names many times, and we shall call this apparatus “the Chinese KGB.”
Comintern chief Bukharin called the railway zone “our revolutionary forefinger pointed into China,” and it was serving as a major base for Russian funding and sponsorship of Chinese Communists.
7. TAKEOVER LEADS TO DEATH OF SECOND WIFE (1927–30 AGE 33–36)
AFTER CHIANG KAI-SHEK established a Nationalist government based at Nanjing in 1928, with nominal authority over the whole of China, he launched a drive to weld the many different armies controlled by provincial potentates into a unified national army under his control. This met ferocious resistance from an alliance of warlords, and by the beginning of 1930 each side had deployed hundreds of thousands of troops. The resulting internecine fighting presented the CCP with a chance to expand its own army and bases.
Moscow began to consider forming a Communist state in China. Chou En-lai set off for the Soviet Union in March 1930, bringing with him a detailed report on the Chinese Red Army, saying it had some 62,700 men, made up of 13 armed groups (called “armies”) spread over 8 provinces. The Zhu — Mao Army was the best-known of these, and accounted for almost one-quarter of the total, having expanded to nearly 15,000 men, thanks to its control of a large base. Bases were the key to expanding the army, as possession of a base enabled the Reds to acquire conscripts.
While Chou En-lai was away, the man in charge in Shanghai was Mao’s fellow Hunanese and former subordinate, Li Li-san. Li-san, who had made his name as a labor organizer, was an impulsive activist and passionate advocate of further expansion. Under him, a highly ambitious plan was devised to seize a large chunk of the interior, including big cities like Nanchang and Changsha, and form a Red government in the heart of China, at Wuhan, on the Yangtze. Mao was assigned to take Nanchang, the capital of Jiangxi.
Mao was a realist. He knew that even given the infighting among the Nationalists, the Red Army had no hope of seizing and holding major cities. At first he expressed reluctance to carry out the plan, but within days of voicing doubts he was bursting with zeal. He still had no faith in the project, but he realized that he could exploit Shanghai’s fantasy for his own purpose, which was to take over the second biggest Red Army branch, run by Peng De-huai.
PENG, WHO WAS five years Mao’s junior, was born in a village in Mao’s own district in Hunan. He was to rise to be Communist China’s first defense minister, and also Mao’s fiercest and bravest critic within the regime — for which he would pay with a long-drawn-out and agonizing death.
Peng had a highly expressive mouth and eyes, which seemed to show a permanent sadness. He cared about the poor and the downtrodden. Unlike most Communist leaders, he had had a poverty-stricken childhood, which scarred him profoundly. When his mother died, his youngest brother, who was six months old, had starved to death. Decades later, Peng wrote of his childhood:
In bitter winter, when other people were wearing padded clothes and shoes, my brothers and I wore straw sandals on bare feet, and clothes made of palm leaves, like primitive men … When I was ten, there was nothing at all to live on. On New Year’s Day, when rich people’s homes let off firecrackers, my family had not a grain of rice. So I took my second brother to go begging, for the first time.
He described how he fainted from hunger after they got home. Out of pride, he refused to go begging next day, so his grandmother, who was over seventy, went hobbling on bound feet, pulling along his younger brothers, one of them only three years old. Watching them disappear into the snow, Peng said later that he felt sharp knives were cutting at his heart, and he went into the mountains and chopped some firewood which he sold for a small packet of salt. That evening he would not eat the rice his grandmother’s begging had brought home, and the whole family wept.
When he was fifteen, his village was hit by drought, which brought starvation for many. Peng became involved in an attempt to force a wealthy landlord to hand out some rice, by climbing onto the roof of the landlord’s granary and removing the tiles to reveal the grain the man had denied having stored. Peng was placed on a w
anted list, and had to flee. In 1916 he joined the Hunan army and became an officer. He was sometimes invited by local dignitaries to banquets where young girls barely in their teens were available for their pleasure. One girl of thirteen told Peng she had been badly beaten by a pimp because she declined to sleep with officers. Peng bought her freedom, and thereafter turned down all invitations to banquets. He became attracted to communism “to find a way out for the poor,” as he put it.
Peng secretly joined the CCP just after New Year 1928. That July he mutinied against the Nationalists, taking 800 men with him. The Party told him to make contact with Mao, who was in the outlaw land nearby at the time. Peng arrived in December, just as Mao was making ready to quit the base. Mao needed someone to stay behind to hold the fort, as possession of a base was his main asset.
So Mao grabbed Peng and told him to stay and defend the territory — a doomed task. After Mao was gone, government troops came in force. Peng’s men had to break out through deep snow, climbing over precipices and inching along tiny tracks normally used only by wild animals.
From then on, Mao continued to treat Peng as his subordinate, and Peng made no objection. But Shanghai did not formally endorse this arrangement, and Mao’s mandate did not, officially, extend beyond the Zhu — Mao Army. In early 1930, when Moscow and Shanghai reorganized all Red Army forces nationwide in preparation for establishing a Communist state, Peng’s army, which had grown at an extraordinary rate to 15,000—the same number of troops as Mao’s — was made independent of Mao. Peng’s men were excellent soldiers, with a strong esprit de corps. A Party inspector told Shanghai that Peng’s army “has the highest morale. The troops obey orders, have strong discipline and a great spirit of camaraderie, and are brave soldiers … They are very loyal to Peng De-huai personally. The wounded in the rear hospitals, once recovered, absolutely insist on returning to [Peng’s] army … It has very few deserters.”
Mao was determined to control Peng and his crack force. This was why he suddenly expressed an eagerness to attack Nanchang. If he was there, rather than down south on the Jiangxi — Fujian border, this would bring him hundreds of kilometers closer to Peng, who was nearby. Mao’s secret plan was to go and physically join forces with Peng, as this was the only way he could exert control over Peng and his army.
Mao set off north, saying he was going for Nanchang, as the Party had ordered. But when he reached the outskirts of Nanchang, at the end of July, he fired only a few shots and then moved his army towards Changsha, which Peng had just captured on 25 July.
Changsha was the only provincial capital the Reds took, and Peng held it for eleven days, proclaiming a Communist government, with his HQ in the American Bible Institute. His success rang alarm bells in Western capitals, especially Washington, which now, for the first time, registered the Chinese Communists as a serious force. One reason was the death in combat of Seaman 1st Class Samuel Elkin, the first US serviceman to die fighting Chinese Communists, killed on the USS Guam on the Xiang River by shelling from Peng’s forces en route to Changsha — on the Fourth of July. Gunboats of four foreign powers, particularly the USS Palos, played a critical role in driving Peng out of the city on 6 August.
In mid-August, Peng received a message out of the blue saying that Mao was coming to “help” him. Mao wrote simultaneously to Shanghai, on 19 August, to say that he had abandoned his assignment to attack Nanchang in order to go to Peng’s rescue, claiming that Peng was in deep trouble—“suffering considerable deaths and losses.” Peng told Mao flatly that he was not in trouble and did not need help, but this was not enough to shake off Mao, who cunningly countered by telling Peng to come and help him, as he was about to attack a town called Yonghe, located in between them, about 100 km east of Changsha.
When Peng joined up with him, on 23 August, Mao announced that Peng’s corps was now merged with his own, under his own command, leaving Peng as mere deputy military commander, under Zhu De. Mao tried to blow smoke at Shanghai (and Moscow) by claiming that the goal in merging the armies was to attack Changsha a second time — a move opposed by both Peng and Zhu De, who argued that it had no prospect of succeeding, as the element of surprise, essential to Peng’s capture of the city, had been lost.
But Mao insisted, and assured Shanghai that together the two corps could easily “occupy Changsha … then attack Wuhan … to trigger a general uprising in the whole of China.” Mao stoked Shanghai’s delusions by suggesting that the occupation of Wuhan was imminent, and with it the establishment of a Red government: “Please could the Centre instruct on taking Wuhan,” he wrote in his most ingratiating style, “and start preparations for organising a government …” In fact, Mao had no intention of going anywhere near Wuhan.
Nor did he really think he could seize Changsha. Still, to cement his absorption of Peng, he ordered Changsha to be attacked. The result was “huge human losses,” Moscow was told. These were much greater for Peng’s units than for Mao’s, as Mao had avoided a genuine strike at Changsha, whereas Peng had faithfully carried out orders and attacked the city directly The GRU chief in China, Gailis, told Moscow that “Mao just looked on.”
At the end of three weeks, Mao called off the siege, insisting that Peng’s army should move off with him. This met with resistance from Peng’s officers, and some even tried to break away. (The Chinese Red Army, like Chinese forces in general at this point, was not like a modern army where orders were obeyed unconditionally and unquestioningly.) Mao soon launched a bloody purge against them.
Mao also used the siege of Changsha, which made headlines, to promote himself to the top job, and raise his profile further. When he started the siege, on 23 August, he proclaimed an All-China Revolutionary Committee, put it in command of all Red Armies, governments and Party branches, with himself as chairman, and sent an announcement to this effect to the press.
Two months before, on 25 June, Mao had already issued two press releases giving himself this title. No newspapers seem to have carried these, but Mao pasted them up as notices. Shanghai’s reaction had been to announce on 1 August that the post of chairman belonged to the Party’s (nominal) general secretary, Hsiang Chung-fa. Mao was now reiterating his self-appointment over Hsiang’s head, in defiance of Shanghai.
But Mao received no punishment. The new Red state that Moscow had decided to install in China needed power-hungry leaders, and Mao was the hungriest around. On 20 September his second-level membership of the Politburo was restored, paving the way to top jobs in the coming Red state. Moscow had rejected Wuhan as the location, ordering the state to be established in “the Red Army’s largest secure region”—which was Red Jiangxi.
The defeat and heavy casualties inflicted by Mao’s siege of Changsha were blamed on the impulsive Li Li-san. Li-san had told the Russians it was their “internationalist duty” to send in troops to help the Chinese Reds in their fight. During the Russian invasion of Manchuria the year before, he had gladly called for the Chinese Reds to “defend the Soviet Union with arms.” Now he proposed that Moscow should reciprocate, and this riled Stalin, who suspected Li-san of trying to drag him into war with Japan. Li-san had also incurred Stalin’s ire by saying that Mongolia, which Soviet Russia had annexed from China, should become part of Red China. The Comintern condemned Li-san on 25 August for being “hostile to Bolshevism, and hostile to the Comintern,” and in October a letter arrived ordering him to Moscow. There Stalin turned him into a kind of all-purpose scapegoat, and he was repeatedly called on to stand up and denounce himself.† Li-san entered history books as the man responsible for all the Red losses in the early 1930s. High on the list of losses were those suffered during the siege of Changsha, which were in fact entirely Mao’s responsibility, incurred for his own personal power.
MAO’S QUEST FOR POWER also brought tragedy to his family. In 1930 his ex-wife Kai-hui and their three young sons, the youngest three years old, were still living in her family home on the outskirts of Changsha when Mao laid siege to the city.
; Mao had left them exactly three years before, when he set off, ostensibly to take part in an “Autumn Harvest Uprising,” but actually to poach his first armed force. Barely four months after his departure, he had married somebody else.
Although Changsha was ruled by a fiercely anti-Communist general, Ho Chien, Kai-hui had been left alone, as she was not engaged in Communist activities. Even after Peng De-huai had taken Changsha and nearly killed him, Ho Chien took no reprisals against her. But after Mao turned up and subjected the city to a second lengthy assault, the Nationalist general decided to take revenge. Kai-hui was arrested together with her eldest son, An-ying, on An-ying’s eighth birthday, 24 October. She was offered a deal: her freedom if she would make a public announcement divorcing Mao and denouncing him. She refused, and was executed on the cloudy morning of 14 November 1930. Next day the Hunan Republican Daily reported her death under the headline “Wife of Mao Tse-tung executed yesterday — everyone claps and shouts with satisfaction.” This undoubtedly reflected more loathing of Mao than of Kai-hui.
When Kai-hui was brought into the “court” in army HQ, wearing a long dark blue gown, she showed no sign of fear. There on a desk were placed a brush, some red ink, and a sticker with her name on it. After asking a few questions, the judge ticked the sticker with the brush dipped in the red ink, and threw it on the floor. This was the traditional equivalent of signing a death warrant. At this, two executioners peeled off her gown as spoils. Another found a bonus—2.5 yuan wrapped in a handkerchief in one of the pockets.
And so she went to her death, on a winter day, wearing a thin blouse, at the age of twenty-nine. As she was taken through the streets, tied up with ropes, which was the normal treatment for someone about to be executed, an officer hailed a rickshaw for her, while soldiers ran along on both sides. The execution ground lay just beyond one of the city gates, among the graves of the people executed who had no one to take their bodies home. After they shot her, some of the firing squad took off her shoes and threw them as far as they could: otherwise, legend went, they would be followed home and haunted by the ghost of the dead.
