Free Nanjing Requiem by Ha Jin Page A

by the Japanese the night before. His parents were distraught but dared not go out and look for him.
    “God works in his own ways, hard for us to fathom,” Minnie said, but not convincingly.
    Our ancient city, noted for its beauty and cultural splendor, had become hell overnight, as if forsaken by God. I couldn’t stop wondering whether there’d be retribution in store for the ruthless soldiers and their families. No one could brutalize others like this with impunity in the long run, I was sure.
    That night, Searle Bates and Plumer Mills slept in our main dormitory and the Arts Building, respectively, while Lewis Smythe kept Luhai company at our gatehouse. Before turning in, the husky Plumer wept and cursed again, his heavy-jawed face scrunched and his hair damp with sweat. He suffered from pain in his chest caused by being hit twice by the Japanese with rifle butts that morning when he had attempted in vain to prevent them from taking thirteen hundred Chinese soldiers out of the police headquarters. A group of American missionaries had disarmed those men and promised them personal safety, but all the poor fellows had been dragged away and executed in the afternoon. Fifty policemen guarding the Safety Zone were also rounded up and shot for letting the Chinese soldiers enter the neutral district. With the three American men in our camp we felt a little more secure. Minnie stayed with Miss Lou in the Practice Hall, which was more than two hundred yards away from the nearest building, tucked in the southeast corner of campus, while I was in charge of the main dormitory. The college’s two policemen still patrolled, but in plainclothes. In addition, an old watchman, lantern in hand, would make rounds throughout the night.
    THE NEXT DAY the Japanese went on looting, burning, arresting men, and attacking women in town. Luckily, it was uneventful at Jinling, except that early in the morning a soldier came from the house across from the front gate with four coolies and dropped two sacks of rice with loud thumps. We were pleased that the Japanese had finally let our camp use the grain and didn’t sell the rice back to us. Some soldiers had seized rations from the camp in Magee’s charge and then sold them back to the porridge plant there “at a discount”—wheat flour was two yuan for a fifty-pound bag and rice five yuan for a two-hundred-pound sack.
    Since daybreak, more refugees had been coming to Jinling. Although the buildings were all packed, we still accepted the new arrivals, now that they wanted nothing but a place to stay. Most of them just lounged on the lawns or the sports ground. Looking at the refugees around her, Minnie said she was even more convinced that she’d made the right decision to remain behind. I felt the same. Again the Lord’s words rose in my mind: “Thine is the power and the glory.” That seemed to have new meaning to me now, like a promise.
    I recited that line, and Minnie nodded solemnly in agreement.
    Around midafternoon, Rulian came and reported that some soldiers had gone into the South Hill Residence. Minnie, Big Liu, and I set out at once for that manor, taking the path that cut a diagonal through a bamboo grove. The second we stepped into the building, we heard laughter from the dining room on the left. Three Japanese were sitting at a table drinking apple juice and spooning compote directly from an eight-pound can. Beyond them the door of the pantry was open, the padlock smashed. Minnie went up to them and shouted, “You can’t do this!”
    They all stood up and made for the door, holding the juice bottles and two large floral-cloth parcels, seemingly frightened. Once out of the building, they veered east and dashed away, their calves wrapped in leggings.
    As I wondered what was inside the two parcels, Minnie said, “They seem like young boys who know they did something wrong.”
    “Some of the Japanese are quite young indeed,” Big Liu said, and pushed up his glasses with his