Evening Star Newspaper, January 19, 1930, Page 96

ped Within the Walls ot Nanking. Americans Cut Off From Communication as the Chinese “Reds” Start to Massacre All Foreigners—W omen and Children Race Editor's Note: In a previous ar- ticle Mrs. Hobart has told how the ahite people in China, compelled to flee from the rising tide of race hatred that influenced the “‘red” armics, sought refuge within the wall of Nanking only to find the city menaced by the advancing Na- tionalist troops. Here is an inti- mate portrayal of what the Chinese wars mean to individual Americans caught in the maelstrom. Mrs. Hobart has been 19 years in China as the wife of an American business man. BY ALICE TISDALE HOBART. - HANGHALI fell. The news reached us over the ship's radio. Now we were in a little pocket with the Nationalists closing in on us from all sides. The railway was cut and we could get no telegrams. The British and American warships erected a system of signals on the top of our house which was on a hill. We were in a pcsi- tion to relay messages from the consulate be- Jow us in the city to the ships at the bend in the river. My husband made plans to move his office out on one of th: company steamers due to arrive from Shanghai. Still the gray flood washed up from the Yangtse and over the city. An army with equipment such as these men had cculd fight for weeks, maybe months. One afternoon we drove the consul up to the university to see about the evacuation of the women and children. Their houses stocd well to the south of the city, in reach of the shells in case there was a siege. Scattered as they were among the Chinese houses, they were also exposed to the danger of looting. Still, fthese people were very reluctant to go. It is difficult to explain to people in other kountries why we did not all leave the city that might. Always in China, since the very first Hays of settlement, every one has lived more br less constantly in danger. Each foreign fommunity has its plan of evacuation. But it is a very fine point to know just when danger §s serious enough to warrant evacuation. If you leave and nothing happens you are BEnsidered panicky and not reliable in times of emergency, Keeping your head is half the bat- tle in China. If you leave, too, you acknowledge fear, and the Chinese is apt to take advantage bf fear, looting and destroying when otherwise he might not. The Nationalists were particu- larly sensitive to doubt of their abilities to fnaintain crder. In revenge over such doubt they might do worse things. _’I‘HERE was not a forzign man in that town ! who did not hold large trusts in his keep- ing. Each of them must be convinced that he could do no more for his mission or his business company before he would consent to go. So there was no thought that the men could go. As to the women, that is yet more difficult to explain, The missionary women's reluctance Wwas made up of several elements—an instinc- tive unwillingness in women to quit their homes, no place to go (Shanghai was already crowded with refugees, and missionaries are hot over blessed with money) and faith in the Chinese. They had labored for years for these Chinese and could not believe that the Chinese would harm them. Most of them had their Work among the students, and these students had talked much to them of the Nationalist §deals. In spite of all that had happened up tiver they were not yet convinced that the ovement was destructive, So it was that only Bbout half of the women wished to go in the Worning. I had resolved, as had certain other American fnd British women who, like myself, had no Bhildren, to stay as long as my husband stayed. X should not be in more danger than he. He Was staying because of his duty to his com- Ppany, and although I had no duty to it I made Teady to go when he went and not before. As a result of the conference at the univer- 8ity, it was decided to take as many of the Women as wculd go out on the gunboat in the harbor and from thence to steamers going flown river, So the next morning, in orderly fashion, the ®xodus from Nanking began, Through Murderous Fire. By noon 120 American women and children were on the Noa, the American destroyer. A few British women went on board the Emerald. About 5 Consul Davis, on his way home from the Noa, where he had been making final ar- rangements about the missionaries on board, stopped at our house. He was the last guest to sit quietly in my living room, but he, like all those others who had climbed the hill that Winter, was oppressed and burdened. Utterly worn out with the strain of the last few days, he was worried about the missionaries left at the other end of the city and also about the ones who were crowded upon the destroyer waiting to be taken to Shanghai. I insisted that he sit down and have a cup of tea. He had become so worn and thin in the last weeks that he almost frightened me. After a moment of silence he turned to me, saying: “It seems hard to ask all these people to go away from their homes and their work. I shall feel personally responsible; I hope I have not put them to needless expense. They have been my friends and neighbors for years and they are going simply because I think it wise.” “What are you doing about your wife?” I asked. “The American consulates have in no case been touched by the Nationalists. I think noth- ing will happen there. In case of a siege and big shells it might be necessary later to go.” “I've radioed for a company steamer,” said my husband. “I am planning to move the office on board and we’d like your wife and the chil- dren to come with us if they'd like to.” THE consul thanked my husband, saying, “Yes, perhaps that’s the best way.” I went back to my packing, preparing to go on the company boat in the morning. The guns were now near enough to the city so that we could hear the big ones. Boom! silence—boom! silence. Rat-a-tat. I heard my husband from the roof calling down to some one. I looked out to see the British postal commissioned and his wife taking their evening walk along the flat spac: inside the parapet of the wall just at the foot of the bluff on which our house stood. I saw her wave and heard her call up to my husband. “No, I'm not going away as long as my husband has to stay, and he can't desert his post at the office.” They went on their way. Boom! silence—boom! silence; rat-a-tat-tat; it was ominous. Evidently the Nertherners were mov- ing back toward the city, as each volley from the guns sounded nearer. Pretty soon we all gathered downstairs in the living room—my husband, myself, the two junior men from the next house and the signal men, augmented now by a guard of sailors from the destroyer off duty, who now day and night took turns on the roof, transmitting messages. We built up a goocd wood fire in the fireplace. We gave up all idea of going to bed. In case there should be a skirmish we should be in range. What we should have to do was to go to the foot of the hill and take shelter in the garage until it was over. We put out the lights and banked the fires. The living and dining room took on the look of a bar- racks. The sailors changed watches. The relieved watch went to sleep in the big chairs. The two juniors’ brought in a mattress from the other house and spread it on the living room floor. Some of the sailors moved a couch in for me and placed it at the back of the dining room away from the windows. Once I got up to go and quiet the servants. They were all crowded in the furnace room in the basement. How many people from the little village at the foot of the hill were among them I did not know. Occasionally I could hear the cry of a baby just bencath me in the basement. About midnight the boy and I got a lunch for the sailors and put it on the dining room table, Dozing, waking, dozing again, I heard the shooting to the north, to the south, inside the city . . . outside the city . . . in the suburb . + . at ragged intervals . . . but never near our hill, On the second morning it was after 8 when we went downstairs, The sallors were stirring and the telephone rang. . “Yes, yes,” I heard my husband say as he hastily hung up the receiver, “Signalman!” he shouted, “American Consul to Commanding Officer Noa—Dr, Williams has been shot by the Nationalist soldiers.” Dr. Williams was the dean of the university; a gentle, kindly man of 60. Dr. Williams who had spent a lifetime working for th> Chinese! “How did it happen?” I asked. “They looted his house and then just shot him in cold blood,” answered my husband. “It’s all this anti-foreign talk they've been fed on, I suppose. Reisner called up the consulate and told them. Said they’d keep the con- sulate informed.” THE SUNDAY STAR. WASHINGTON, D. C J_/}NUARY 19, 1930. Wang came toward me, placing a little American flag in my hand. Even as ke did it, we heard shots at the back of the house. I could not seem to think. Dr. Williams shot! He who had such faith in young China and the Nationalist movement—shot by them! The telephone jangling! “Yes! I'm here.” As my husband spoke into the receiver he motioned to me: “Call the boys from the other house,” and into the receiver: “Yes! I'm here.” And to me: “Get the boatswain’s mate in charge of the sailors.” Into the phone once more: “Yes! Yes! I'm listening.” HE Jolly little boatswain's mate came clat- tering down the stairs. “Enghe,” said my husband, “we’ve got to hide the arms of the sailors. The consul says there are Nationalist soldiers along the main road and they are evidently in an ugly mood. If they see us with firearms they may use that as an excuse to fire on us. The consul advises us to hide all arms and when the Nationalist soldiers come, as they undoubtedly will, not to oppose any search. Treat them respectfully. Above all things, we must keep our tempers. Not start anything. Do you understand?” A little sullenly on the part of one or two the sailors vielded up their arms. “Be sure you don’t leave a thing behind. Hand over those cartridge belts,” commanded my husband. “Where shall we hide them?” asked Enghe. “Up in the attic under the floorboards.” The men raced up the attic stairs with their rifles, cartridges, cartridge belts. “Get an ax,” some one called. I saw the gardener coming with the ax. In a few minutes they were downstairs, and I never saw such an expression on the face of a group of men. Those rifles were a part of their wardrobe. I really believe they felt im- modest on duty without them. No one said very much as we all sat down trying to look natural. “We are not to look like sailors. Just a lot of men sittin® around for our health.” They began taking off their white sailor hats. “I've got some cards,” I said. “How about a game of poker?” “Fine business,” said Enghe. “Come on, fel- lows.” The poker players gathered round the dining room table. Some of the others sat on the floor playing craps. “Wouldn't you like a table?” I asked. “I'll have the boy get one for you.” “Wouldn't use it if you got it,” answered Enghe. “Too many years usin’ a deck for a table. Consul said we was to look natural when them guys come,” and he grinned. I went up upstairs then, thinking the men would have a better time if the one woman in the house was not around. They were always so beautifully careful of their language when I was there, and I felt they deserved a little freedom of language after the disarming. I sat down to write a letter home. I thought maybe it would keep me normal. As the poker game and the crap game and my letter went on “they” were moving nearer us, reaching our part of the city. All this, although it takes some time to tell it, was the work of a very short time. Not over half an hour. And now the telephone started ringing again! My husband came into the room. “Nationalists at the British con- sulate! They've killed Huber.” I only remember following my husband down the stairs in a kind of daze. The telephone jangling! “Call the signal- man.” My husband seemed to be a part of the telephone. “Wilson!” he said to one of the signalmen, “wig-wag the Noa. Consul says we won't sig- nal again unless we need help. We are attract- ing attention, and it may infuriate them.” Now we were entirely cut off and witheut arms. If we only knew what we had to meet! The telephone jangling! “The Japanese con- sul is reported killed.” As we stood there in the hall the British consul’s chauffeur appeared from somewhere. He'd been running. “Mr, Giles is dead. They shot him,” he panted. The British consul dead! Shot! “What happened to the women?” He did not know. He’'d seen them running out of the house and then back trying to find a place to hide when they saw Dr. Smith shot on the consulate lawn. Then every one stood up, scattering poker chips and cards. “My God!” I heard a sailor say. “I wish I had a gun. I'd fix the dirty swine.” WE all knew now beyona a doubt that this was a massacre of all foreigners. Not one nation would escape. Americans, British and Japanese had been attacked. The telephone jangling. The consul: “The police tell me the National- ists are on the way from the British consulate down the Maloo. They tell us we shall all be murdered if we stay here. It is a grave thing to abandon the consulate. What do you think I should do, Earle?” My husband asked for a moment’s time, standing thinking with the receiver in his hand. Then he spoke into the telephone: “Leave.” “All right,” replied Mr. Davis. “We shall leave immediately, coming cross country as fast as we can.” As my husband finished telling us this mes- sage the house seemed suddenly full of panting men I used to know. I recognized the manager of a tobacco company, Mr. Jordan, a friend of ours. Others I did not know very well or not at all. They were running in through the French doors to the south and the back door. “There are soldiers everywhere,” they panted out. *“They're going to kill all foreigners. We've got to get away. Where's a rope? . . . We'd better try for a drop over the wall.” Every one started running out of the house down the bluff toward the city wall—not every one—my husband stayed behind and those brave unarmed sailors. My husband said to me: “You'd better go.” He called out to the men: “Put over some men before you let down my wife.” I turned and saw him standing hatless on the veranda. “Go on,” he called to me. “I'll wait for the consul's party.” I heard some one at my side saying to me: “Don't try it, it's certain death. We stand a chance at the house with the sailors. Maybe they'll get a landing party.” It was Mr, Jordan. “See,” he went on, “there are more retreating men outside the wall.” Sure enough, scattered all over the plain were Northern soldiers, and here and there running in and out of the little huts were Nationalist soldiers hunting them. That and the fact that my husband was up at the house decided me. I could not at the last moment make up my mind to leave him— it seemed like deserting. I'd always remember him standing on the veranda hatless, unarmed, Just as the third man went down over the wall two Nationalist soldiers came running along commanding us to go back and taking our rope. We ran, bending over to keep below the parapet and the bluff—away from the bullets. As I entered the house, our house servant, Wang, came toward me, placing a little American flag in my hand. Even as he did it we heard shots at the back of the house. The gardener rushed in, gesti- culating wildly and jabbering like a madman in Chinese. Every one began talking at once. “Have to defend ourselves.” The civilians who had come in were mostly armed with pistols. I heard the click of cartridgss slipped into revolvers. Others cried, “No! We couldn’t stand them off very long!"” I heard my husband speaking above the crowd: “The consul is not here yet. If we shoot we endanger him and the British cone sular people, There are a lot of women there. We can't get into communication. My serve