by Jung Chang
Mao managed to make the journey even more futile by issuing a stream of contradictory orders that drove the Contingent from one hellish locale to another, continually plunging it into pitched battles. Its commander recorded bitterly that the tasks assigned him by Yenan were “elusive and changeable.” When the Contingent cabled early in February 1937 from the middle of the desert that it could not hold out much longer, nor go on, and asked for permission to come to Yenan, Mao ordered it to hold on where it was, telling it to “fight to the last person and the last drop of blood.”
By mid-March the Contingent, once the backbone of Kuo-tao’s army, had been all but killed off. Those captured met horrible deaths. After one climactic battle in western Gansu, more than 1,000 were buried alive. Heart-rending photos were taken of a large group of unsuspecting prisoners before they were slaughtered. The 2,000 women were raped, some tortured and killed, others sold in the local slave markets. Of the original 21,800 men and women, only around 400 eventually made it to Xinjiang at the end of April, more dead than alive.
The extermination of this force allowed Mao to slam the lid on the coffin of Kuo-tao. Mao turned Kuo-tao, who was in Yenan, into the scapegoat, asserting that the Contingent had been following “the Chang Kuo-tao line.” But Moscow refused to support Mao’s attempt to get Kuo-tao kicked out of the Politburo. Still, Kuo-tao was denounced in front of his own officers.
Mao not only ended Kuo-tao’s political prospects, he ended the lives of the few of the Western Contingent who eventually made it to Yenan. A local official described what happened:
When they were chased into our [area], we first of all gave them a welcome party and took over their arms. Then we said to them: “Comrades, you have been through a lot. You are transferred to the rear to have a good rest.” We took them in batches into the valleys, and buried all these grandsons of turtles [i.e., bastards] alive.
It was such fun burying them. At first, we said to them with smiles: “Comrades, dig the pits well, we want to bury Nationalist troops alive.” They really worked hard, one spade after another, wiping sweat from their faces … After they finished, we shoved them and kicked them all in. At first, they thought we were joking. But when we began to shovel earth in, they started shouting: “Comrades, we are not Nationalist troops!” We cursed: “Sons of bitches. We don’t care whether you are Nationalist troops or not. We want you to die, and you die …”
At this point, the bragger was challenged: “I absolutely refuse to believe this was the order of the Party.”
But the man went on: “What! It was our regimental commander who ordered us to do this. And he said it was the order of Comrade Gao Gang [local Communist leader], who of course was carrying out the order of Chairman Mao. We only recognise Chairman Mao’s authority. Whatever Chairman Mao asks us to do, we do.”
Kuo-tao himself was subjected to multiple “torments … masterminded by Mao,” he later wrote. He was thrown out of his house by Mao’s secretary so that Mao could take it over, and his orderly was arrested. Mao even tormented Kuo-tao’s young son, who was cast as the leading Trotskyist Chang Mu-tao in a school play. Kuo-tao described arriving at the school to find “a group of people were ridiculing my son. Mao Tse-tung was also there, having fun. He cackled maliciously: ‘It fits perfectly to have Chang Kuo-tao’s son play the role of Chang Mu-tao.’ … I tore away the mask my son was wearing and led him away from the scene. I shouted in anger as I left: ‘Barbarians!.. Worse than beasts!’ ”
BY SPRING 1938, Kuo-tao was at the end of his tether. This was right at the moment when Mao’s own position was unusually weak, as he was out of line with Moscow’s orders to fight Japan. Kuo-tao spotted a chance to join hands with Wang Ming, who represented Moscow’s viewpoint. At the time, Wang Ming was in Wuhan, Chiang’s temporary capital, with Chou En-lai and Po Ku. On 4 April, in his capacity as chairman of the Red region, Kuo-tao left Yenan for a joint Nationalist — CCP ceremony at the tomb of the mythical Yellow Emperor, outside the base area. After the ceremony he drove off to Xian, and from there he went on to Wuhan to see Wang Ming and his colleagues.
This was the rarest of rare opportunities, with the majority of the core Party leadership, all in disagreement with Mao, out of Yenan at the same time, and thus out of Mao’s clutches. (Xiang Ying, Mao’s fiercest critic and the head of the N4A, was near Wuhan.) The content of Kuo-tao’s confabulations in Wuhan is one of the CCP’s most closely guarded secrets. Almost certainly, Kuo-tao argued for ousting Mao. Yenan later told Moscow that Kuo-tao had “tried to break the unity of the Party” when he was in Wuhan. But he left empty-handed, probably because the Wuhan trio did not believe that Moscow would stand for dumping Mao. Whereas Kuo-tao was desperate, Wang Ming was at the peak of his confidence, and it may have been hard for him to appreciate that Mao’s apparent acceptance of majority decisions masked a ferocious determination to claw his way back into control.
The talks went on for about a week. When Kuo-tao realized that he was getting nowhere, he decided to leave the Party for the Nationalists, which he did on 17 April. The Wuhan trio let him go. He then wrote to his wife, whom he had left behind in Yenan, pregnant, asking her to join him, with their twelve-year-old son. Mao stalled for two months, to make sure that Kuo-tao did no drastic damage, and then allowed them to leave.
These words of Mao’s reveal why he maneuvered so relentlessly to avoid entering Sichuan after the Zunyi Conference. They also show that he was prepared to kill huge numbers of fellow-Communist troops for his own ends. When Kuo-tao’s wife came to Wuhan, Chou advised her to tell her husband “not to burn his bridges with the Party.” Kuo-tao took notice. He had once been the head of the CCP’s Military Department, in charge of planting high-level agents in the Nationalist military, but he never revealed a single name to the Nationalists. In fact, he did little for them, and they were disappointed with him. His thousand-page-plus autobiography conspicuously failed to spill many beans. A sign that he kept his mouth shut was that after he fled the Mainland on the eve of Mao’s conquest of China, one of his sons was allowed back to go to university in Canton in the mid-1950s. He outlived Mao and died in an old people’s home in Toronto, Canada, in 1979, aged eighty-two, having converted to Christianity the year before.
Kuo-tao’s defection to the Nationalists allowed Mao to discredit him in the eyes of his army; he was promptly expelled from the Party. Some of his old followers in Yenan were “extremely dissatisfied,” Nationalist intelligence chief Tai Li reported to Chiang Kai-shek. They met in secret, whereupon Mao’s forces “liquidated them all there and then. About 200 were buried alive.”
Moscow waited two months before endorsing the expulsion. During this time, something most crucial for Mao happened: Stalin brought the Comintern purge to an end. Piatnitsky and Melnikov, who had implicated Mao as a Japanese spy, were executed (on the same day), along with a host of others connected to China. Mao’s dossier remained on file, ready to be resuscitated when Stalin needed it again a decade later. But for now Mao was off the hook.
As soon as Mao learned that the Kremlin had approved the expulsion of Kuo-tao, and that he himself was in the clear, he turned to tackle Wang Ming.
AT THIS POINT Mao had a major ally in Moscow, his old fellow plotter on the Long March, Wang Jia-xiang, the Red Prof. Mao had pushed hard and bombarded Moscow with requests for the Red Prof to go to Russia, ostensibly for medical treatment, ever since radio contact with Moscow had been established in June 1936. The Red Prof arrived there in July 1937, and became the CCP’s representative once Wang Ming returned to China. Now, in June 1938, Mao cabled the Red Prof to return. He was in the position to perform a signal service for Mao. Before he left, he saw Comintern leader Dimitrov, and in a conversation about Party unity, Dimitrov said that the CCP needed to solve its problems “under the leadership headed by Mao Tse-tung.” Mao was to use this single expression to reverse his personal fortunes — and Party policy.
The Red Prof returned to Yenan in late August. Mao immediately had him summon
Wang Ming and the others to a Central Committee plenum “to hear the Comintern’s instructions.” This was the first time the Central Committee had been convened since before the Long March, well over four years before. Wuhan, the temporary capital, was under fierce attack by the Japanese. Yet Mao recalled the field commanders and top men to Yenan, which was a backwater. Wang Ming objected, saying this was no time for the entire Party leadership to be absent from the nation’s capital, and suggested holding the meeting in Wuhan. “I’m not going anywhere!” Mao declared. The Red Prof cabled Wang Ming threateningly: “Obey the Centre, or else.”
Wang Ming came reluctantly, on 15 September. The Red Prof first addressed the Politburo, quoting the remark Dimitrov had made, upon which Mao said that he would deliver the political report at the plenum — thus re-establishing his position as No. 1. Wang Ming offered no resistance. When the plenum opened on the 29th in Yenan’s Franciscan cathedral, the Red Prof, seated beneath Lenin’s picture on the altar, repeated Dimitrov’s words to the larger audience. Thus was planted in the minds of the CCP high command the idea that Moscow had explicitly endorsed Mao as their leader.
As a reward to the Red Prof, Mao gave him a slew of key posts, including vice-chairman of the Military Council. Mao also found the 32-year-old bachelor a pretty and coquettish bride, a 23-year-old medical graduate whose father had been an old friend of Mao’s. So, having made nominal Party chief Lo Fu a happy man with a petite and vivacious spouse, Mao had spun the “red thread” around another useful heart, locking two vital allies to his belt. Mao enjoyed matchmaking, and was shrewd about the ways of the heart, particularly in sexually inhibited men.
Mao now set about discrediting Wang Ming. However, shattering Party unity was something Moscow had specifically vetoed — and Wang Ming could be expected to fight back if attacked to his face. So Mao resorted to his old trick of dragging the meeting out until Wang Ming and other key opponents had left before he set upon them.
Mao strung the plenum out for almost two months, making it the longest ever, even though it took place in the midst of a national crisis during which not only Wuhan but also the Nationalists’ last major port, Canton, fell to the Japanese. Communist bases behind Japanese lines were threatened as well. Urgent pleas came flying in—“Emergency situation here. Please could Peng De-huai return soonest …”—but Mao refused to release the military commanders until he had achieved his goals.
Chiang Kai-shek moved his capital to Chongqing, further inland, where he was convening a new National Assembly for 28 October which Wang Ming was due to attend. Mao made sure that his plenum was still in session when Wang Ming had to depart for Chongqing — the same ploy he had used in 1929 to lay his hands on Red Fujian.
In order to prolong things, Mao insisted that every Politburo member make two virtually identical speeches — one to the Politburo and one to the plenum. He himself stalled his Political Report for two weeks, during which time participants were kept hanging around. When he finally spoke he was massively long-winded, and what with his habit of sleeping in the morning, he took up no less than three days.
By the end of October, all Mao’s most powerful opponents — Chou, Xiang Ying, Po Ku and Wang Ming — had left town. Once they had gone, Mao launched an onslaught on them, and especially on Wang Ming, for “following Chiang Kai-shek’s orders,” and even for the bloody purges in the Red areas before the Long March, when Wang Ming was not even there.
With his opponents absent, Mao imposed his policy on the plenum: to expand Red bases aggressively, and wage war on Nationalist troops if necessary. This was the first time that Mao spelled out his real intentions. There were many Nationalist troops behind Japanese lines, and they were competing with the Communists for territory. Hitherto, the policy had been to avoid fighting them and make unity with Chiang the priority. Mao had expressed complete agreement while Wang Ming was present, called Chiang Kai-shek a “great leader,” committed himself to placing new Red bases under the central government, and promised to “aim every gun at the Japanese.” He even proclaimed: “The Chinese nation has stood up! The state of being bullied, insulted, invaded and oppressed for 100 years … is over.” These words are almost identical to those he used at the time of the founding of Communist China in 1949, when he said: “the Chinese have stood up.” The 1949 remark is much quoted as — and widely assumed to be — a first. In fact, it was not. Moreover, when Mao originally used the phrase, China, in his words, was “under Mr. Chiang’s leadership”!
With Wang Ming gone, Mao told the top men that the Generalissimo was their ultimate enemy, and that they must start now preparing to seize power from him. The Red Army must strike Nationalist troops who stood in the way of its expansion. This was a milestone order to the top echelon: Chiang remains your enemy No. 1. You can open fire on Chiang’s army.
A KEY SUPPORTER of this approach was the future president, Liu Shao-chi, who had been running the underground network in northern China. Liu had spent two long periods in Russia, had met Lenin in 1921, and had had an affair with one of Lenin’s closest friends, Larisa Reysner. A man of considerable far-sightedness, Liu shared Mao’s hard-nosed strategy for seizing power. Immediately after the plenum, Mao made him Party chief of a large area in east central China where the N4A was operating — and thus the boss over Xiang Ying and the N4A.
Mao also had the support of Peng De-huai, the deputy chief of the 8RA, who could see that civil war was inevitable if the Reds were to expand — or even to stay on at all in some places. Zhu De, the 8RA chief, went along. Mao had secured the support of the chiefs of all the Red forces for his policy.
As his strategy directly contravened Stalin’s instructions, Mao was afraid that the news might be leaked to Wang Ming, and through him to Moscow. So he ordered his speeches to be kept absolutely secret. To seal the mouths of his audience, Mao produced two cautionary “Resolutions on discipline,” which banned anyone from “revealing secrets” to “anyone else inside or outside the Party.” This meant that participants could not tell their colleagues, even those who had attended the early part of the plenum, that Mao had just ordered civil war against the Nationalists. And no one dared tell Wang Ming the full story about Mao’s attacks on him.
To weave a blanket of fear, Mao relied on the later infamous security chief Kang Sheng. In Russia, Kang had supervised the purges of hundreds of Chinese, many of whom were tortured, executed, or worked to death in the gulag. He had been Wang Ming’s deputy on the CCP delegation to the Comintern, and had followed him closely. When the two first arrived in Yenan, Kang had led the shouting of “Long live our Party’s genius leader comrade Wang Ming!” at the security apparatus’s training sessions. But Kang had quickly realized Mao was the winner, and switched allegiance. It was now that Kang vouched for Jiang Qing, enabling Mao to marry her, forming a further bond between him and Mao. Mao made him the head of the CCP’s KGB, even trusting him to select his personal guards.
It was to this closely controlled Yenan that Wang Ming was ordered to return after the National Assembly session in Chongqing. He was made head of the United Front Department, nominally an important post, but was soon reduced to a figurehead. An eyewitness recalled seeing him in the street, “his head bent, his steps heavy … buried in his own thoughts.” But Wang Ming was not openly denounced, as his link with Moscow was strong. So, for the average Party member, he was still one of the leaders — and popular. Many recalled him being “a good orator whose speeches were very lively and rousing. Young people liked him.” Mao was no orator. Wang Ming remained his unfinished business.
FROM 1939, after Mao ordered the Party to adopt an aggressive stance towards the Nationalists, large-scale engagements were fought behind Japanese lines between Communist and Nationalist forces over territory, in which the Communists usually came off best. By January 1940 the 8RA, under Zhu De and Peng, had grown to at least 240,000 (from 46,000 at the beginning of the war). And the N4A, operating under Liu Shao-chi near Shanghai and Nanjing, had tripled, to 30,
000. A score of sizable bases sprang up in the Japanese rear. The base of Jinchaji alone, only some 80 km from Peking, expanded to control a population of 25 million. At this point, with the war more than two years old, when realism had replaced initial patriotic ardor, many Red leaders came to admire the brilliance of Mao’s cold vision. Peng De-huai described Mao in a speech in February 1940 as “a wise leader with political foresight, who can foresee developments and is good at dealing with them.” And it was in this period that Chou En-lai made a total conversion to Mao.
Mao had done well for the CCP. But he had to keep Stalin on board. For many months, he concealed the clashes with the Nationalists from Moscow. He only owned up when the fighting had grown conspicuous and serious in June 1939, and then he claimed that it was purely self-defensive, portraying the Nationalists as intent on wiping the Communists off the face of the earth.
Mao knew how to play to his audience in Moscow. In spring 1939, Stalin had sent his top documentary film-maker, Roman Karmen, to Yenan to film Mao. Mao left a book of Stalin’s open in his study when Karmen arrived and then posed for a long take holding a text by Stalin, with a picture of the author prominent on the front cover. He toasted Stalin, saying that the only place abroad he wanted to go was Moscow, to see Stalin. When he bade farewell to Karmen at the entrance to his cave, in the dark, he made a point of asking which way Moscow lay, sighing deeply and then falling into a long silence. “With what warmth Mao talks of comrade Stalin!” Karmen wrote.
Most crucially, Mao had his men in Moscow to bolster his position — and to denigrate his foes. He had made sure that the CCP’s envoys in Moscow were his allies — first, the Red Prof, then Ren Bi-shi. As he embarked on a course of action towards Chiang that was in defiance of Stalin’s orders, he sent a string of additional emissaries, starting with Lin Biao, who went to Russia at the end of 1938 for treatment for bullet wounds. Lin had been shot by Nationalist troops while he was wearing a captured Japanese coat, and was mistaken for a Japanese.
