by Iris Yang
“I might be able to help,” she begged, “Please!”
General Bai knew how hard it would be to convince her, once she made up her mind. “All right. Be careful. No need to run.” He turned to the young villagers. “Take good care of Xiao Mei.”
The sun’s last rays burned the sky a fiery orange when they met up with Birch on the path close to the cave. He was limping badly, his white shirt wrinkled, stained, and clinging to his skin. Droplets of sweat shimmered on his forehead and dripped down his cheeks. Only he knew whether the perspiration was due to exhaustion or pain.
“Are you hurt?” Xiao Mei asked.
He shook his head.
“But…” She swallowed her question.
“Bai Hua Ge, please get on the carrier.” Linzi and the other young man set down the sedan chair. “You must be tired.” The villager wiped his face with the back of his left hand as he stretched his right arm, trying to grab the pilot.
“No!” Birch waved him off. Being transported by others was too humiliating. He understood how Danny had felt. He was now in the same shoes. Soldierly pride kept him from accepting the help he needed. Ignoring the needles of pain in his legs, the emptiness in his stomach, and the dryness in his throat, he staggered and inched his way down the hill.
“Wait!” Xiao Mei rushed forward, opening her arms to block the Young Master. “You shouldn’t do this. You can’t—”
“I’ll not—”
“Shao Ye, listen to me.” The servant girl moved one step closer, standing toe-to-toe with him. A foot shorter, she had to tilt her head back to talk to him. Her petite body seemed so frail before the broad-shouldered man, yet she didn’t budge. She nibbled her bottom lip before continuing. “It’s getting late. If you hobble like this, you won’t get home until midnight or later. The General is worried. You can’t keep him wondering if you’re okay.”
She pointed to the villagers. “We’ve got four strong men here. They do this all the time. They’re more than willing to give you a hand. Why don’t you let them help you? It’ll make them happy.”
She turned to the villagers and saw their nods. Then to the Young Master, she moistened her lips and continued. “Major Hardy was carried like this. Everyone needs help from time to time. No need to feel bad about it.”
Birch’s eyebrows lifted. He was awestruck by the typically quiet housemaid. She didn’t beg. She didn’t whine. Her logic was clear. In a few sentences, she presented the problem from different perspectives. What better argument could one give? The tough fighter pilot had no choice but to comply. Dragging his feet, he stepped closer to the chair, and grinding his teeth, he sat.
“Wonderful!” A tender smile graced her lips as she gathered the strap of the patchwork bag and handed it to him. “Nothing too tasty, but at least you won’t starve to death.” Her face beamed in the golden light filtering through the trees.
Chapter 34
It was almost dark when they arrived at the village. General Bai was happy once he caught sight of his son stepping down from the sedan chair in the cat-gray twilight. “Thank you.” He shook hands with the young villagers while Birch patted their backs.
After the young men left, the three of them stepped into Birch’s bedroom.
“Dad, I’ve done a lot of thinking today and have come up with some ideas,” he said, sitting on the edge of a wooden framed bed.
Meanwhile, Xiao Mei lit an oil lamp and set it on the table. Except for two timeworn hard-backed chairs, there was no other furniture in the room. Cardboard boxes full of books lined the wall. Despite the sparseness, the place was clean.
She dipped a cloth in a teak wood washbowl on the floor. After wringing out the excess water, she handed it to the Young Master. “I’m going to cook something quickly for you.” She turned around, getting ready to leave the room.
“Wait.” Birch signaled her to stay. “You may want to hear this.” He wiped his face absent-mindedly and turned to his father. Birch looked worn-out, but a glimmer of excitement shone in his eyes. “I think we should rebuild the bridge.” He was talking about the one at Dead Man’s Pass.
The Japanese had destroyed the primitive footbridge four years earlier when they chased Danny and Birch. The only escape route for Daisy had been cut off, and she was stranded on the other side of an impassable gorge, separated from the two men she loved. Birch had no choice but to kill his adored sister after the Japanese had captured her. He knew that they would not let her live, and that she would die a painful death.
Sitting next to the table, General Bai opened his mouth. After an awkward pause, he pointed out warily, “It won’t be easy.” He was referring to something more than the physical effort of constructing a bridge. The wooden chair squeaked as he shifted his weight.
“I know,” replied Birch. “But if people could build a bridge hundreds of years ago, we should be able to accomplish it now. There are towns on the other side of the pass where villagers used to go.” His eyes shone with unbreakable fortitude. “Dad, remember you said you wanted to rebuild the village? Right now, the only way out is the path down the mountain. You told me that years ago an earthquake blocked this village from the outside world for months. What if a quake hits again? Yunnan is prone to earthquakes. We have to think long term.”
Birch took a deep breath, holding his chin high. “Also, Dashan is on the other side of this mountain range. Using the current route, it’ll take days to travel around the mountains. If we can go through the pass, it will take only a day, which will help when I begin the search for…Danny.”
The general shook his head in disbelief, and then nodded in approval.
“We can use the trees around the gorge,” continued Birch. “Why don’t we build something everyone can use, hopefully for generations? This time, we’ll make something stronger and safer, so that someone like…Daisy won’t be afraid to cross.”
His father tipped his head again. Tears glossed his eyes.
“And we’ll place two statues, one on each side of the gorge—”
“Statues?”
“Yes, a sculpture of an angel on this side,” said Birch, eyes glinting. “Daisy died there, and Jasmine wasn’t far away. Both were Danny’s guardian angels. And hopefully, as Danny liked to say, they are angels now.”
The general reached out, grabbing his son’s hands. “What a marvelous idea!”
“We’ll set another statue on the other side. A statue of a Flying Tiger. Both Danny and Jack died in Yunnan.” Birch paused. The knot of his Adam’s apple rose and fell. “They died for China, for us. We owe them this much.”
Still holding Birch’s hand, General Bai replied with another nod.
“Not just for Danny and Jack. Other American airmen have sacrificed their lives for our country. We must honor them, remember their kindness and their bravery. We should use white marble.” Birch elaborated, “And we shouldn’t call it Dead Man’s Pass anymore. Daisy hated that name. We should call it—”
“Angel’s Pass!” Xiao Mei blurted out. Standing by the door, she’d been listening to every word. Even in the faint light, her face and eyes glowed.
“Yes, Angel’s Pass,” Birch affirmed. His eyes locked onto Xiao Mei’s as her smile filled the room with warmth and vitality.
Chapter 35
During the next eighteen months the normally quiet pass teemed with activity. Weather permitting, Birch and his helpers spent time at the gorge. He lived with a dozen young villagers in a large canvas tent, worked with them closely, and shared the delicious food Xiao Mei cooked for everyone.
Lying between two mountain ranges, the gorge was one of the deepest canyons in the world. To build a suspension bridge over such wild terrain would have been challenging even with modern engineering and machinery, but the villagers had only primitive tools. They cut down trees with old-fashioned axes, interlocked the boards with homemade ropes, and carried whatever they needed on their backs.
“If our forefathers could build the Great Wall,” Birch encouraged
the young men whenever they encountered a problem, “then we can build this bridge.”
With determination, they made progress one step at a time.
In the evenings, Birch told stories to the illiterate villagers. Sitting around a warm campfire, the villagers hung on his words. Their thirst for knowledge became his incentive.
Romance of the Three Kingdoms was their favorite. It took Birch months to get through this classic novel. Along the way, the concept of Yi—morality, duty, loyalty, decency, and brotherhood—was revealed. He hoped that it would have a lasting impact on their lives.
But Birch never mentioned the war against Japan. Nothing about the six medals he’d received; nothing about the rescue of Danny or their friendship; nothing about their flights over the Hump or any of the dangerous missions they’d accomplished. No reference to the life-and-death experiences they’d shared, or those that he’d endured alone.
“Bai Hua Ge, why don’t you tell us your own stories?” asked one of the young men. “You were a fighter pilot. I’m sure you have lots of stories.”
Right away his eyebrows furrowed. Xiao Mei sucked in a quick breath. Her gaze darted toward her young master.
“Please, Bai Hua Ge,” the young man persisted. But Linzi stopped him. Birch’s face darkened and sadness lurked in the depths of his eyes. From then on, despite their curiosity, no one asked again.
Later, some nosy villagers tried to pry the information out of Xiao Mei. Naturally, they didn’t succeed. She didn’t know everything, and the things she knew, as a good servant and someone who cared about the Young Master, she wouldn’t tell anyone.
For Birch, the personal accounts were too painful to share. He was terrified that he would crumble if he did. He’d read his diary once. And once was enough. Afterward, he’d buried those memories deep inside the steel walls of his heart, just as he’d locked his journals in a box.
Even a courageous Tiger had limits.
There was another limitation—Birch had never undressed like the villagers. All the young men enjoyed stripping off their shirts on hot days. Their upper bodies were as bronzed as their faces. They loved to jump naked into the stream or pour cold water from the well over their heads. But Birch always kept his shirt on. He never took those “communal” baths or showers. The villagers asked him to join, but he politely refused. So they assumed that, like most educated city folks, he was reserved. No one saw or knew about his scar-covered body.
These drawbacks didn’t prevent Birch from being their leader. He was their Bai Hua Ge—Big Brother Birch. His fighting spirit and his knowledge had earned their respect, even if they didn’t fully understand him.
The villagers spent a year and a half of backbreaking work to finish the suspension bridge. At one end stood a life-size statue of an angel, and at the other was a sculpture of a Flying Tiger.
Placed on pedestals, the figures seemed larger than life. The angel displayed an ethereal serenity, and the white marble accentuated her wholesomeness. She faced the gorge, overlooking the perpendicular cliff. Her arms stretched out and wings spread upward, ready to fly over the chasm to be with the one she loved.
Across the gorge, a young Westerner stood facing her. He held a model airplane above his head in his right hand. Tall and muscular, he wore a flight suit, and a long scarf wrapped around his neck. A pair of goggles rested on his forehead.
“Holy smokes!” exclaimed Meng Hu when he and his wife came to visit. It was now the summer of 1948. “He looks just like Danny.”
Birch had urged the couple to spend time in Yunnan after they suffered a miscarriage. It took them over a year to finally make the trip. Wang Hong still worked as a nurse at the hospital in Chungking. Meng Hu was no longer a fighter pilot. Tired of war, he’d retired from the Air Force and become a flight instructor.
“This place is unbelievable,” said Meng Hu.
Wang Hong simply stared at the gorge.
Hanging between sheer rocky cliffs, the suspension bridge was three feet wide and sixty feet long. It was made of sturdy planks interwoven with heavy rope. Handrails and safety nets protected the walkway on both sides. It swayed when they stepped onto it. Once they reached the middle, Meng Hu turned sideways, leaned over the mesh, and looked down. With a yelp of surprise, he gaped at the bottomless chasm.
A hawk drifted in the sky beneath them. With several beats of its powerful wings, it swooped and plunged. A shrill cry broke out as it disappeared into the fog hovering above the river.
Meng Hu asked, “How did you do it? Danny told me that the old bridge was rotten with holes and broken planks.”
Wang Hong stood behind them with hands clutching the rails, unwilling to look down. Her skin rippled with goose bumps as a cold mountain draft blew up from the abyss. The breeze stirred the pines at the rims, making the branches sway and sigh. “You’re tall, but Major Hardy was taller and heavier. How did you manage to carry him on your back?” Her voice wavered. “With this new bridge, I know I won’t fall, but it still gives me the creeps.”
Every time Birch came here, the images of that day played like a movie in his mind. He had trouble picturing how he’d done it. It was the summer of 1942. He’d met Danny several hours earlier. They hadn’t even become friends yet. Was it a sense of responsibility? A sense of Yi—duty, loyalty, decency—as a Chinese to an American who was so willing to help China?
“Don’t stay here,” urged Wang Hong. “Keep going, please.” The cold had fought its way through her long pants and climbed up her spine underneath her sweater like a sly little mouse. She shivered and tightened her grip. The warm sunlight lost its power to stop her tremors.
Once they reached the other side of the gorge, Wang Hong bent down and took several deep breaths to steady herself.
Meng Hu circled the statue, checking it from different angles. Up close, the American gave an even taller and stronger impression. Although he wasn’t smiling, there was a touch of lightheartedness in his expression.
Moving back a few steps, Meng Hu clicked his heels together and threw a crisp salute.
Birch followed suit, holding the cane in his left hand.
A full minute of reflective silence elapsed before Meng Hu looked at the angel on the other side of the gulch. She seemed so eager to soar over the gorge. “Lucky son of a gun,” he murmured under his breath. “He gets to see a gorgeous girl—”
“This is wonderful, Birch,” Wang Hong cut her husband off midstream. “We should never forget about the Flying Tigers. Major Hardy would appreciate this. Your sister and cousin would be so proud of you.”
“Have you heard from his family?” asked Meng Hu.
Birch shook his head, sadness darkening his eyes. Weeks after he awakened from the coma, he’d written a thirty-page letter to Danny’s family. He told them of Danny’s sacrifice, apologized for not being able to protect his brother, and vowed to find their son’s remains and send them home. It had been two years. He hadn’t heard anything from the family. He assumed that they were angry with him and decided not to bother them until he found Danny.
Meng Hu put a hand on Birch’s shoulder. A flicker of sympathy and understanding appeared on his face before his easygoing manner returned. “Seriously, you’ve done a hell of a job here. This is more than a beautiful place. It’s like—” He snapped his fingers, searching for the right words.
“Shi wai tao yuan.” Wang Hong finished for him.
“Yeah! Out of this world. This is Shangri-La.”
They basked in the gorgeous sunlight. The sky was a brilliant cobalt blue. Over the rocky rims, lush forests stretched as far as they could see. Yellow, white, and magenta flowers dotted the edge of the woods, and a vast array of ferns spread out like a thick green carpet. The smell of wildflowers and pine trees hung in the air.
Birch’s voice stuck in his throat, so he just nodded. Danny had loved this remote place and called it shi wai tao yuan before the Japanese assault. It had been a haven of peace and happiness.
And that was t
he reason that Birch and his father had come to rebuild the community—they wouldn’t allow their enemy to destroy a piece of heaven on earth.
Chapter 36
Soon after the bridge was finished, Birch proceeded with his plan to go to Dashan. Many times during the past year, he and his helpers had tried to look for Jasmine near the village, but even after they’d widened their search area, they were not successful.
He prayed he would have better luck finding Danny. Deep down, he feared the result. He didn’t know exactly where they’d been imprisoned. Even if they found the prison, where would the graves of Danny and six other prisoners be?
While the pass reduced their travel time, it still took a day to walk up and down the mountain. By then Birch was in good shape, recovering his lean build and supple grace of an athlete. Nevertheless, his artificial leg couldn’t withstand such a long strenuous hike. So, as much as he detested it, he had to be carried in the bamboo-pole sedan chair. Linzi and three other young villagers accompanied him on the trip.
His first goal was to look for Mr. Ding’s wife and parents. He wanted to deliver the young teacher’s last words. Out of the dozen people in the prison cell, Mr. Ding’s message was the only one he could recall.
As Mr. Ding had said, it was easy to find the high school; there was only one in the town of Dashan. But it took Birch a couple of hours to find out where the teacher’s family lived. Everyone he asked seemed nervous when he mentioned the name. Either they said they knew nothing or simply walked away. In the end, after some sweet-talking and arm-twisting, he got the information from the headmaster, who warned, “Don’t be surprised. They live in a poor neighborhood.”