Several reasons besides Konoye’s failure to mention troop withdrawals explain the cool reception to Wang Jingwei’s démarche. Rumours circulated in Chongqing that punitive expeditions had been drawn up ready to strike out against any rebel.35 The fall of the Konoye government just at this critic al moment was also unfortunate for Wang Jingwei.36 An announcement of an American credit agreement for $25 million suggested that Western powers were beginning to come down from the fence on which they had been sitting for so long.37
It mattered, too, that the difference between Wang and Chiang was not really, as Wang was implying, between continuing the war come what may and a more or less honourable peace. Chiang Kaishek had been negotiating, too. Another deal was on the table, one that also included a provision for troop withdrawals, but did not demand recognition of Manzhouguo and did not stipulate an indemnity payment to Japan.38 While Wang was willing to accept vague Japanese promises which Konoye then omitted to mention, Chiang steadfastly held to the position that Japan first had to complete the withdrawal of troops from all areas conquered since the Marco Polo Incident before he would even begin formal negotiations.39 Chiang appeared the more realistic and hard-headed of the two. In any case, given Japanese actions so far in China, Konoye’s proposals would have seemed to many more a veiled demand for submission than a genuine statement of intent.
Chen Kewen’s response indicates that even an acolyte saw Wang Jingwei’s move as a failure of judgement. Chen was not part of Wang’s inner circle, but he was a regular visitor to his home and a frequent contributor to the South China Daily. Chen felt an intense sense of betrayal when Wang suddenly left Chongqing without having told him what he was planning. He wrote Wang Jingwei a long letter, asking him why he had faith in Japanese intentions and questioning his timing: ‘morale is low and people have not been prepared for peace negotiations. The sudden appearance of your telegram might cause the disintegration of our fronts and the collapse of the rear.’40 Later, in his diary, he quoted verbatim a ‘perceptive’ attack on Wang Jingwei in the press. This ridiculed Wang as ‘a traditional man of letters’, in the grip of emotions, with an enormous self-regard, ‘unsuited for politics’, lacking in rationality and easily excited;41 missing, in other words, the cool, masculine determination needed to see China through these momentous times.
If Konoye’s refusal to make a public commitment to a Japanese withdrawal from China crippled Wang Jingwei’s campaign from the outset, an attempt by Chiang Kaishek to assassinate him, on 21 March, closed the door on both Wang Jingwei’s return to Chongqing and on his disappearance into exile, ensuring that Wang’s campaign would continue to cast a spell over events. So far, Wang Jingwei had not actually defected. The bullets shot by Chiang’s would-be assassins missed him but killed his confidential secretary and close friend Zeng Zhongming,42 who had been with Wang since before the 1911 Revolution.43
A few days later, Wang Jingwei published an article entitled ‘Just an Example’ in the South China Daily, claiming that he had declined a French offer for protection and had been waiting for Chongqing’s response to his proposals, but that his honour now required him to push ahead with the cause for which his friend had given his life.44 He revealed, too, that before the fall of Nanjing, Chiang Kaishek had rejected the unanimous recommendation of the Supreme Defence Council to accept a settlement that had limited Japanese demands to a demilitarised zone along the Great Wall, an expanded demilitarised zone in Shanghai and self-government for Inner Mongolia, implying that it was just Chiang’s obstinacy that was to blame for the terrible damage done to China since the fall of Shanghai.45 Shortly afterwards, Wang sailed from Hanoi to Shanghai to live there under Japanese protection.46
In Shanghai, Wang insisted to the Japanese that, to demonstrate they were serious about peace, they should recognise a new central government established by him and conclude a peace treaty with it. Wang insisted that the Provisional and Reformed Governments should be incorporated into his government and that it should retain all the laws, symbols and institutions of the Nationalists. His Japanese interlocutors decided to go along with him, waiting to see what would happen. The negotiations dragged on for a year, all the while making Wang appear ever more like just another puppet.47
Final negotiations for a deal began on 1 November 1939, on Yuyuan Road in Shanghai. The conditions to which Wang Jingwei’s negotiators were asked to agree included the acceptance of advisors at all levels, the virtual separation of north China, the continued presence of Japanese troops in many areas of the country, the payment of indemnities, the granting of special economic rights to Japan and the acceptance of Japanese monopolies.48 Such monopolies were to be established in north China for electricity generation, the railway industry, air transport, cotton production and the cement industry,49 illustrating that shortages were compelling Japan to treat north China not as a model area, as was avowed initially, but as a place from which to extract desperately needed resources to enhance Japanese war-making capabilities, as had always been the aim. Wang’s representatives fought hard, but with little negotiating power, they were unable to force the Japanese to improve their offer; they accepted demands which treated China like a colony.50
This outcome illustrates that Japan’s version of a negotiated settlement essentially amounted to a Chinese surrender. In part, the Japanese government had to be seen to be the victor in order to mollify the Japanese public. They had made huge sacrifices, and the press had made much of Japanese victories and promised great benefits from Japan’s empire-building exploits. As much as Premier Konoye and others wanted to extricate Japan from the war in China, the Japanese public was unlikely to have accepted a settlement that could not be presented as a triumph.
Two of Wang Jingwei’s followers who had left Chongqing with him jumped ship once Japan’s conditions for a settlement became clear. One was Gao Zongwu, the man whose shuttle diplomacy had paved the way for their departure from Chongqing; the other was the historian, commentator and theoretician Tao Xisheng. The two fled to Hong Kong, where they published a draft of the agreement, triggering widespread condemnation, and ensuring that, as The New York Times reported, ‘Japan’s whole costly scheme for a puppet central government … is likely ruined upon the eve of its installation.’51 Chiang Kaishek wasted no time in declaring that the conditions Wang had accepted were worse than the infamous Twenty-one Demands Japan had attempted to impose on China in 1915 during the First World War.52 A Chongqing radio broadcast denounced Wang Jingwei as a traitor.53
The inauguration of Wang’s administration, presented as the return of the Nationalist government to Nanjing, embodied the impossible position in which he now found himself. The ceremony took place in a Nanjing where major avenues had been renamed after Japanese generals, including General Matsui Iwane; where the Japanese had massacred the local population; and where Japanese guards stood to attention at the Sun Yatsen Mausoleum scarred by Japanese bullets.54 To compound Wang’s embarrassment, a Japanese foreign office spokesperson stated at a press conference that Wang’s government was as independent as Manzhouguo.55 Worse, Japan took another year to recognise it, hesitant to do so because it was continuing to pursue negotiations with Chiang Kaishek (thus indicating Japan’s estimate of the relative significance of the two). When a treaty between Wang’s government and Japan was finally signed on 30 November 1940, it was more a sign of Japan having given up hope of a deal with the Nationalists than fulsome support for Wang. Wang stood in front of the Sun Yatsen Mausoleum, waiting for Japan’s representatives, so one report has it, ‘as if in a daze, staring ahead at the white clouds that billowed over Purple Mountain, tears flowing copiously down his face’.56 By now it was beyond doubt that the peace campaign was doomed.
This tearful end to the peace movement was a significant moment in the War of Resistance. No major politician or general had followed Wang Jingwei’s lead and thrown in his lot with the Japanese. The Nationalists had sustained huge losses during the first two years of the War of Resistance.
Many of their best forces had been crushed and many cities and large stretches of the countryside destroyed. Nonetheless, when the opportunity arose to abandon Chiang Kaishek to his fate, few did so.
This episode shows no one – not Konoye, not Wang Jingwei, not Chiang Kaishek – at their best. Had Prime Minister Konoye responded with greater courage and decisiveness to Wang’s overtures, the war could have ended then, which would have allowed Japan to extricate itself from an ever-worsening disaster and avoid all the horrors that followed. Appalled by the destruction the war had caused, yearning for the role of saviour, and unwilling to continue to play second fiddle to a man he thought less talented and certainly less cultivated than himself, Wang persisted in his cause long after it was clear that it was hopeless. It is understandable that Chiang Kaishek put a very high price – death – on betrayal. But in doing so he precipitated Wang’s defection, ensuring that Wang’s peace campaign would continue far longer than would otherwise have been the case. With men such as these in charge, peace never had a chance.
Strategic bombing
From the spring of 1939, Japan threw its naval and army air squadrons – it did not have a separate air division – against the Nationalist rear, bombing its cities, industries and salt fields for two and a half years. The thinking was clear: bombing was meant to convince the Nationalists to accept Japan’s peace conditions or cause the disintegration of their government, in a way that avoided the enormous financial and human cost of a land campaign plus its attendant risk of embarrassing failure. This was the hard element of Japan’s push for regime change in China.57
Until the Battle of Wuhan, the Japanese army and navy had used air power in ground support operations and to interdict Nationalist supply lines. After Wuhan, such operations continued. Bombing missions targeted the Hanoi– Yunnan rail line and the ‘munitions highway’ through Gansu province to the Soviet Union.58 There were also symbolic actions: a raid conducted on 12 December 1939, the third anniversary of the Xi’an Incident, destroyed Chiang Kaishek’s family home in Xikou and killed his former wife, who continued to live there, in an obvious bid to bring the war home to him personally.59 But the main focus was on attacking cities in unoccupied areas, especially Chongqing, the wartime capital, and Chengdu, Sichuan’s provincial capital, as well as places, usually with air fields, such as Yichang, Changsha, Guilin, Chijiang, Enshi, Huiyang and Xiangyang.60
Chongqing suffered its first air raid on 26 December 1938. Coming just after Chiang Kaishek’s arrival in the city and Wang Jingwei’s departure, this was a symbolic action designed to impress on officials, businessmen, professionals and the general population that supporting Chiang was the more dangerous option.61 The first wave of Japanese planes took off from Wuhan at 10.30 a.m. and arrived above Chongqing three hours later, but they had to turn back because cloud cover prevented the navigators from locating their targets. The second wave found clear skies above Chongqing, with the result that ‘from the docks to the residential districts, buildings were gutted, bombed into hollow wrecks … Even hours later, as darkness fell, the city was filled with the sounds of moaning and screams for help.’62 Further raids followed on 2, 10 and 15 January. The last one ‘was the first raid in which the heavily built-up districts within the walls were attacked’.63 The city emptied out: ‘30,000 Chinese civilians are fleeing daily from Chungking,’ reported The New York Times.64
These had been test raids to judge capabilities and assess potential impact. A review in March 1940 revealed deficiencies in the skills of the Japanese pilots in night- and foul-weather flying, in logistics and communications, and in the design of heavy bombers, whose fuel tanks were not self-sealing,65 that is with a sealant filling the hole if the tank was hit. The decision was made to switch the emphasis of the air campaign to north China and attack the air fields there. Lanzhou was the main target as it was a nodal point in the supply line from the Soviet Union.
Only in the early summer of 1940 did the Japanese become technologically able to conduct real terror bombing campaigns, that is, capable of sustaining large air raids on urban populations over a long period of time. Crucial to this was the introduction of the sleek Mitsubishi A6M Zero carrier fighter and the Mitsubishi G4M long-range bomber,66 nicknamed the Type One Cigarette Lighter by the crews because of its propensity to burst into flames after a hit.67 Before 1940, no fighter had sufficient range to protect Japanese bombers during the 800-kilometre run from Wuhan to Chongqing. But the Zero’s range was nearly 5,000 kilometres, it had a maximum speed of 530 kilometres per hour, and it carried two 7.7mm machine guns spitting 500 rounds per minute as well as two 20mm cannon with 60 rounds each. The Zeros were so good that Allied pilots shunned dogfights with them until 1943.
Two other developments fed into the Japanese decision to carry out a campaign of terror bombing. Firstly, Hitler’s Blitzkrieg in May 1940 led them to conclude that a new world war would soon break out and therefore that the fighting in China had to end. The prompt capitulation of the Dutch after the German bombing of Rotterdam may have convinced the Japanese that bombing campaigns against cities could bear fruit. The second development was the occupation of Yichang in June 1940. Yichang is located on the Yangzi river on the border of Sichuan province. Being able to stage air raids from there would cut flight times to Chongqing almost in half.
Operation 101, Japan’s first strategic bombing offensive, lasted through the summer of 1940. The plan was to make use of the good weather during the summer to hit Chongqing at least thirty times with 100 aeroplanes in each sortie and assault Chengdu at least twenty times. According to Japanese statistics, 27,000 bombs with a total weight of 2,957 tons were dropped on Chongqing. Their assessment was that 20 per cent of Chongqing had been irreparably damaged, its economy had collapsed and inflation was skyrocketing.68 Japanese losses stood at 107 aircraft and 89 crew. These figures suggest that pilot error, equipment failure and bad weather were more responsible for Japanese losses than Nationalist defences. In the summer of 1941, Operation 102 repeated the exercise at even greater intensity.
The Nationalists did their best to protect the population of Chongqing and other key cities. Anti-aircraft guns were acquired, populations were dispersed and planes from the Soviet Union, 160 of which were stationed at Chongqing, were put into the air.69 Early warning systems were also put in place, dependent on ‘a network of observation towers, intelligence outposts, and ground and radio communication lines’.70 One large red ball, lit at night, was raised on tall platforms or nearby hills and one long and one short blast of air raid sirens were sounded when an attack was expected. When Japanese planes approached to within a certain distance, a second round red ball was hoisted up and the sirens sounded one long and six short blasts.71 In Chongqing, more than a thousand air raid shelters were dug each year from 1939, so that by 1944 half a million people could be accommodated in them.72
Operations 101 and 102 failed in weakening the Nationalists’ resolve,73 but they caused terrible damage. When the bombing of Chongqing intensified, Chi Pang-yuan, her mother and her two sisters were among those ordered to evacuate the city.74 They stayed at the barracks of General Li Mi, the father of a school friend of Pang-yuan’s, some 15 kilometres outside Chongqing. For Pang-yuan and her friend, the summer of 1939 was a jarring time. As the Japanese air raids continued over Chongqing, Pang-yuan learned to ride, a skill she was proud to acquire and which made her think of her relatives back in the north. ‘Every morning we galloped over dirt paths lined by trees, the cool breeze blowing through the short cropped hair I had when young.’75 During term time she was relatively safe at her residential school. Nonetheless, the air raid siren ‘which made me jump out of bed after waking from my dreams in moonlit nights … cut deep, deep wounds into my heart which will never heal’.76 It also deepened her anger: ‘to lack a feeling of safety while roving through one’s own country and when even clear skies mean violence, how can I forget that?’77
After Pang-yuan entered the sixth form, she lived with her pa
rents. Day after day she took refuge in the small air raid shelter of Tide and Times, the journal her father edited. One day in the summer of 1941, they emerged to find half of their home gone. ‘That evening, during torrential rain, we crammed into one room which still had half a roof, partly sitting and partly lying down. Mother was ill again … Father sat at the end of her bed, shielding her head from the rain with a large umbrella. So we waited for daybreak.’78 However, the Japanese carpet bombing did not turn Chongqing’s population against the Nationalists. ‘Not only did the bombing generate in me a strong determination not to be cowed, but also of wanting to howl in anger.’79 Bombing also stiffened Chen Kewen’s resolve. Even though corpses were decaying in the street, he wrote, ‘everybody gritted their teeth, determined to construct a great future out of this misery’.80 Bombing, he added contemptuously, was a method used by ‘a nation which bullies the weak but fears the strong’.81
The Nationalists used Japan’s bombing campaign to claim for themselves the role of protectors of defenceless victims. After one raid in May 1940, Chiang declared ‘the government has been working night and day to devise efficient and permanent measures for safeguarding the people against danger from the air’.82 That, though, came with its own dangers, as a disaster on 5 June 1941 showed. On that day an estimated 10,000 people were trampled to death or died from suffocation when the exits from a large tunnel became blocked, not just because of the bombing but also because of government bungling.83 The outcry was enormous.
China at War Page 18
