Free The Flowers of War by Geling Yan Page B

comrades preferred to stick with the others. Their courage was multiplied when they were together and a deadly threat was much easier to face together than alone.
    At five o’clock in the morning, the first white flag – a bed sheet held aloft by a bugler – was raised on the Chinese side. The sheet had been left behind by a regimental commander. They tore it into four and shared it between four regiments. It was only when the mist lifted and the surrendering troops got to the Japanese lines that they realised just how heavily they outnumbered the enemy. If only they had known, they could have broken through and got away the night before, but the lack of any wirelessequipment left them in complete ignorance, a situation which the Japanese were quick to take advantage of.
    A group of walking wounded was approaching along another track. One of them was a youth with his head wrapped in a bandage. Li’s company was ordered to halt at the fork in the track. The Japanese seemed to be very considerate of their prisoners of war, allowing the wounded to get to food and shelter first. Sergeant Major Li and Wang Pusheng had not met at that stage.
    Led by a forest of white flags, the Chinese troops silently walked along the road. They were escorted at ten-metre intervals by a Japanese soldier toting a rifle. Occasionally Chinese interpreters would appear, to shout: ‘Hurry up! Quick as you can!’ Every now and then they would be asked by the surrendering soldiers: ‘Where are the Japanese taking us?’
    The answer was always ‘Don’t know’. The expressions of the collaborators were as bland as those of the Japanese soldiers escorting them.
    ‘Will there be food and water?’ came another question.
    ‘Of course!’
    ‘They won’t kill us or beat us?’
    ‘No! Get a move on now!’
    There really were some soldiers who had carefully kept a leaflet on them. Every time they saw a collaborator, they would take it out and show it to him. These words were the evidence. Now they wanted these Japanese to honour their promises.
    When one of the soldiers exchanged a few words with a collaborator, he was quickly surrounded by his comrades. ‘They’re really not going to kill us?’ ‘That’s what he said …’ ‘They’re going to feed us?’ ‘That’s what he said …’
    The rumours were embellished with much repeating. ‘Down the road there’s food! we’re nearly there! The Japanese never kill their prisoners!’
    They walked on and on but food and shelter still did not materialise. The prisoners’ firmness of spirit began to waver. ‘Who did you hear say there was food?’ ‘It was you!’ ‘Did I? I said probably there was …’ ‘Then let’s find another interpreter to ask!’
    It was after ten in the morning and the mist was dispersing when they came to a burned-out factory. A Japanese officer exchanged a few words with the interpreter who took a loud-hailer and bellowed at the prisoners: ‘Officers and men! Take a rest here for a bit while we wait for our orders.’
    One of the Chinese, bolder than the rest, shouted back: ‘Is this where we’re going to eat?’
    The Japanese officer bent his steely gaze on him and the Chinese soldiers felt a chill of fear. There was obviously no food and shelter to be had here.
    The place was completely uninhabited. It was a ghost town.
    Under instruction from the Japanese officer, the interpreter addressed the prisoners again. ‘There’ll be food when you get to the river. Then you’ll be put in boats and taken to an island in midstream to clear the land for planting. The Japanese Army needs food and you’re going to supply it …’
    The men were reassured when this message was relayed to them. It sounded believable. They could see the prospects in front of them. They might have been starving but they cheered up. The interpreter went on. ‘During this rest period, we’re asking everyone to show restraint and cooperate with the Japanese. Allow them to tie your hands