Free Escape from Shanghai by Paul Huang

fact, the only means for resupplying China were via the torturous, twisting Burma Road and by the limited number of planes that flew over the sky-high Himalayas.
    Japan had a choke hold on China.
    Governor-General Li’s Army sat on a defensive battle line waiting and wondering where, when and how Japan would attack again. The attack on Pearl Harbor had everyone on edge. The people of Shaoguan knew that if an attack came, the Japanese would probably hit the provincial capital first.
    Meanwhile, it was to Japan’s advantage to keep the region stable so that people like the Wu’s could do business almost as if no conflict existed between the two sides. When Mr. Wu met the salt merchant on the Shaoguan dock, the first question asked was about our trip: Were there any signs of an imminent attack?
    “No way to tell,” Wu replied. “Their patrol boats did not stop us, not even once. Perhaps they are too busy making preparations,” he said with a shrug.
    The tensions ashore were soon felt by all aboard the junk. The uncertainties were suddenly magnified. Adding to this tension was the fact that no one was absolutely certain where my paternal grandparents’ village was. While Wu had made a few inquiries on shore, the answers were far from certain. Nevertheless, armed with a few meager facts, he turned west and sailed up the Wu River. (Wujiang)
    Meanwhile, Mom’s apprehensions grew. She couldn’t understand how we could possibly locatea village without a map. She was tempted to get off at Shaoguan, but decided against disobeying orders. Not in the current tense atmosphere. It would be better for the Governor-General to find us. That way, he would know that we were not impostors.
    “We are almost there,” Mr. Wu reassured us.
    A day later, he stopped at a nondescript dock and tied up. He seemed to know the men sitting on their haunches smoking cigarettes. Wu hopped ashore. He spoke with them, nodding happily as he listened to each reply.
    Mom and I couldn’t understand a word because they spoke a local dialect that we hadn’t heard before.
    “I have taken you as close as I can to your father-in-laws house,” Wu told Mom. “His village is not far from here, but I cannot take you there. I’m very sorry. The water is too shallow. But this boatman knows the village. He will take you.”
    Mom looked around. The farmland looked all the same to her. “Are you sure?” she asked with some trepidation.
    “Yes. This man knows the village,” he said pointing at the boatman.
    The boatman smiled and nodded confidently at us.
    Mom looked uncomfortable and worried. The thought of being robbed, or worse, was ever present during these difficult times. Furthermore, she couldn’t speak the dialect, so how would she communicate with the boatman?
    Wu saw the concern on her face. Graciously, he raised his hands to his chest and placed his right fist in the palm of his left hand, then he bowed respectfully, showing both respect and humility. “You can trust this boatman. He will take you there. You have my word.”
    “Thank you, Uncle Wu,” Mom replied graciously. She felt much better by his sincere gesture. “You have been wonderful to me and my son. We appreciate all that you’ve done for us.” Then my mother started to reach for her purse.
    Wu saw the motion and instantly raised both of his palms to stop her before she went any further. “No, no,” he said shaking his head. “I have already been paid.” He bowed respectfully once more. “Good luck to you and your son, Huang Tai tai,” he said. “I wish you well, and may the River Gods be kind to you. Both my wife and I have been honored by your presence,” Wu said and bowed once more.
    The uneducated in China held the greatest respect and admiration for an educated person.Especially someone who had studied in America. This fact alone inspired awe among Mr. Wu and his crew. Throughout our trip, they treated my mother with the utmost care and delicacy as if a special aura