Gladys worked all afternoon and through the night, bandaging wounds and crudely setting broken bones. As the first hint of dawn touched the horizon, she looked up to see the mandarin looming over her. How strange it was to see him walking alone without his sedan chair and servants. He bowed to Gladys, who bowed back. The simple act of bowing to her friend soothed her nerves.
The mandarin had been looking for Gladys. He had news, and it was not good. A messenger from the mandarin of Luan had just reached Yangcheng to warn the people that the Japanese had captured Luan and were now marching towards Tsechow. From there it was only a two days’ march to Yangcheng.
With chilling clarity, Gladys understood why the Japanese had bombed Yangcheng. They were weakening the town so that when they invaded in a few days, it could be easily overrun. The destruction that lay around them was not the end of their suffering; it was only the beginning.
Chapter 12
All That You Are and All That You Do
Soon everyone in Yangcheng understood that it was only a matter of time before the Japanese army arrived. After seeing the death and destruction the air raid had caused, nobody wanted to be around when the troops marched in. The mandarin, Gladys, the prison governor, and an important merchant formed a relief committee. Together they made decisions that would affect everyone in Yangcheng.
The committee’s first decision was that as soon as the dead had been buried, everyone should leave Yangcheng. If the citizens scattered among relatives and friends on the farms and in the tiny villages dotted over the mountains, they would have less chance of being caught by the enemy. This also meant that Yangcheng would be a ghost town when the Japanese arrived. Most of the buildings in the town were damaged or destroyed, and the committee hoped that if the people took their livestock and food supplies with them, the Japanese would have no reason to stay. Perhaps the soldiers would march right through Yangcheng so that later on the townspeople could return in safety.
Everyone found somewhere to go. The prison governor chained the prisoners together and marched them off to nearby farmhouses. The mandarin chose to take his wives and children to a small village in the foothills. Yang returned to his family in the countryside. And Gladys, who was now responsible for a band of about forty people that included her children, orphans from the attack on Yangcheng, and new converts, went to the settlement of Bei Chai Chuang. Gladys knew the district better than any other person in all Shansi. She had crisscrossed the region many times looking for girls with bound feet who might be tucked away on farms in the smallest of valleys or in houses perched on the sides of mountains.
Because of her travels, Gladys knew that Bei Chai Chuang was the perfect place for them all to go. Physically it was well suited. Gladys doubted that the Japanese would ever find the place. It wasn’t on any map, and there were no roads to it, just a steep climb over rocky outcrops. The whole community consisted of only eight houses enclosed by a wall, but the houses weren’t where Gladys intended to stay. In the surrounding hills were several large caves, where the local herdsmen housed their goats, pigs, and sheep during the winter. The caves were warm and dry, but more importantly, they were almost impossible to spot from the outside. Not only were they a perfect hiding place, but Gladys had many friends among the people of Bei Chai Chuang. She knew she could count on them to share their food and show them kindness.
With a heavy heart, Gladys led the group out of Yangcheng. As she walked through the west gate, she looked back one last time at the fairy-tale city she called home. How different it looked now than when she’d first laid eyes on it from a mule train eight years before. No longer were brightly colored banners waving in the breeze, the beautiful curved roofs were destroyed, and thin spirals of smoke still drifted upwards from the ruins. The smell of plum blossoms filled the air, and Gladys wondered whether anyone would ever come back to Yangcheng to pick the plums. Tears slid down her cheeks as she reached for Boa-Boa’s hand and began the trek from Yangcheng to the caves of Bei Chai Chuang.
It took nearly a whole day for the weary group to reach their destination. The people of Bei Chai Chuang welcomed them warmly, and soon the caves were swept and made ready for the guests. That night, as they sat around a campfire inside the cave, Gladys and some of the others told the people of Bei Chai Chuang the terrible story of the attack on Yangcheng. The local farmers promised to take scouting trips to Yangcheng to see what had happened.
The next night a farmer reported he had seen columns of Japanese soldiers dressed in khaki uniforms with packs on their backs marching toward the east gate of Yangcheng. A week later, another farmer reported seeing them all marching out the west gate. Gladys smiled at his report. The Japanese had indeed passed through Yangcheng. Gladys’s plan had worked. It would be only a matter of time before Gladys and the others could go back home.
Several members of the group were anxious to find out whether the Japanese had done any more damage to their homes and whether any of their relatives had made it back to town. Gladys volunteered to creep back into Yangcheng and see what was happening there. It took her most of the day to sneak back. She kept a lookout at every turn for men in khaki uniforms, but she saw none.
Gladys reached Yangcheng in the late afternoon. Long shadows stretched down the mountainside as she crept through the west gate. No people were gathered by the gate to sell cloth and vegetables, no gate keeper was waving as she entered, and no laughing children were running through the streets. An eerie silence hung over the once bustling town, now deserted. Gladys didn’t want to stay in Yangcheng a minute longer than she had to.
Gladys quickly made her way to the Inn of Eight Happinesses and picked her way silently through its mangled remains. She sat on the edge of the k’ang. For a moment, the room echoed in her mind with the laughter of the muleteers, the songs of the new converts, and the “elastic” Bible stories Yang had told. But all of that was gone now, swept away by the evil of war. A piece of paper on the floor caught Gladys’s attention. She bent to pick it up. It was a card she’d written seven years before to Mrs. Lawson, dated a week before her friend had died. It read, “I can do all things through God who strengthens me.”
As Gladys tucked the card into her jacket pocket, she heard a terrifying sound: gunfire, and lots of it. She heard yelling, too. Not yelling in Chinese but in Japanese. Gladys lowered herself to the floor and lay completely still. One of two things must have happened, she decided. Either the Japanese troops had not all left town after all, or they had come back! Whichever it was, Gladys knew she had to get out of town without delay. Slowly she stood up, took a deep breath to control her shaking, and began creeping towards the east gate, the closest gate to the inn. She stayed in the shadows. But when she got within sight of the east gate, her heart sank. The gate was bolted shut. The only way out of Yangcheng was through the west gate.
Gladys checked to make sure the way was clear. This time she didn’t creep along in the shadows. She stepped out into the middle of the battle-scarred street and ran as fast as she could towards the west gate. She was gasping for breath when the west gate came into view. Although the gate was still open, she suddenly knew she should be cautious. Gladys stopped running and began inching her way along in the shadows again. She was about five feet from the gate when she froze. Gunfire was exploding so close to her she could feel its vibrations as it hit the wall. She looked around in a panic. Was someone shooting at her? Her eyes drifted upwards. To her surprise, on top of the wall were eight Nationalist Chinese soldiers with their rifles pointed out over the wall. Gladys had no idea that any Nationalist troops were left in the area.
Gladys fell to her hands and knees and crawled along until she could peer through the crack between the edge of the wall and the gate. Outside the wall and to the left she caught a glimpse of Japanese uniforms and rifle barrels jutting out from behind some rocks. The sun was setting, and Gladys didn’t know what to do. She was sure the soldiers would close the gate at any moment to keep the Japanese out. But being trapped inside Yangcheng would be very dangerous. She had no choice. She was going to have to sneak out through the gate in the midst of the gunfight.
Gladys peered through the crack again. To the right and about five yards outside the wall was a wheat field. The spring crop was almost two feet tall, and Gladys decided that if she could make it that far, she could crawl through the wheat without being seen. Her one advantage was that the Japanese wouldn’t be expecting anyone to flee out the gate.
Once Gladys made up her mind to run, it was only a matter of timing. All she had to do was wait for some sort of distraction and then run as hard as she could. Her heart beat so loudly she wondered whether the soldiers above could hear it. She waited. Suddenly she saw a hand grenade being lobbed over the wall towards the Japanese. This was her chance. With all her might, she sprinted out the gate and dove face first into the wheat. Quickly she pulled herself along on her elbows towards the center of the field. The wheat stalks stabbed at her, and the rocks ripped at her elbows and knees as she wormed her way towards safety.
Gladys scrambled on, staying low against the setting sun, until she finally felt safe enough to stand up. She dusted herself off, found the mule trail, and followed it a short distance until she came to a fork. One branch, which was used in bad weather, carved a steep path along the top of the mountain. It would be a dangerous route to travel at night. If she slipped and fell, Gladys knew it was unlikely her body would ever be found. The other path, the safer path, followed a stream bed that overflowed with water in the rainy season. But it was spring, and the stream bed was dry. Gladys took a few steps along this trail before she stopped in her tracks. A horrible thought occurred to her. If more Japanese soldiers were on their way back to Yangcheng, the trail she was on was the one they would almost certainly use. But she had nowhere to hide along this trail. There were no trees or rocky outcrops to conceal her. She immediately knew that despite the danger, she had to take the other trail.
She felt in her pocket for the card she’d picked from the floor of the inn. She squeezed the card, thought about the words written on it, and took a deep breath. Then she turned around and headed for the other branch of the trail.
As fast as she could, she climbed the steep path that zigzagged along the ridge. She’d gone about half a mile up the trail, when below her she heard a crunching sound. It was soft at first, but then it grew louder. Gladys recognized the sound of hundreds of boots marching over rocks. She lay down against a rock and peered over the edge of the ridge into the dusky darkness. She could make out the shape of soldiers on the move. Had Gladys stayed on the other trail, she would have walked right into these Japanese soldiers with glistening bayonets at the ends of their rifles.
Gladys spent the night huddled in the crevice of rock, high on the ridge above the gorge the soldiers had marched through. In the morning, she completed her journey back to Bei Chai Chuang. The news she reported was grim. It would not be wise to go back to Yangcheng for quite some time. They would have to stay longer in the caves.
Over the next few weeks, a steady trickle of sick and wounded people found their way to the cave of Ai-weh-deh. The people knew that Gladys would nurse them and give them food. By the end of a month, the cave had been transformed into a hospital. Gladys made visits to the nearby villages, where groups of Christians were staying. She also made several trips back to Yangcheng, where the mandarin and some residents had drifted back and resettled. Even though the Japanese troops seemed to have forgotten about the town, Gladys didn’t feel it was safe enough yet for her to return permanently.
