The Good Man of Nanking

by John Rabe

  The soldiers bore modern rifles on their shoulders, and hand grenades hung from their belts, but they had only straw sandals for their feet. No backpack, no coat, only thin summer uniforms despite the icy wind. Each man carried a rolled-up blanket or piece of canvas slung over his shoulder, that was all. What princes our soldiers were in contrast, each with his own backpack! A number of heavily laden coolies formed the baggage train. Everything was carried on bamboo poles. In lieu of a field kitchen, two coolies carried one huge kettle. Then came several mules with modern machine guns and quick-firing rifles, well-protected by canvas. As I looked at these carefully wrapped machine guns and then at those soldiers, who were soaked to the bone and—as you could see right off—had spent the night in some rain-drenched field, I was reminded of the motto that on the marshal’s order has been engraved on every firearm, from simple rifles to howitzers: “Never forget, my son, that this weapon was bought with the sweat and blood of our people!” Most coolies will never earn as much in their whole life as one of the weapons they carry costs. There is no money for clothes, shoes, and other comforts, only for guns. Christ probably was thinking of times like these when he advised his disciples: “He that hath no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one.” (Luke 22:36)

  CHAPTER 2

  THINGS GET SERIOUS

  The International Safety Committee

  19 NOVEMBER

  IT’S STILL RAINING, and we are still relentlessly packing. I’m trying to close the company books, but work keeps getting in the way of work. Han has drawn out a large sum in cash. I’m transferring most of the company’s money and 2,000 dollars of my own to Hankow. All the employees will be given their full November salary now, so that they can buy food before the last shops close. I can store only one ton of coal and four canisters of petroleum, there’s simply no more to be had at present. The servants walk about with large, terrified eyes, because they think I’ll be leaving on the Kutwoas well. They’ll be happy again once I explain straight out that I am definitely staying on in Nanking, come what may.

  An International Committee has been formed, made up primarily of American doctors from Kulou Hospital and professors from Nanking University, all missionaries. They want to try to create a refugee camp, or better, a neutral zone inside or outside the city, where noncombatants can take refuge in case the city comes under fire. Since word has got around that I intend to stay on, I was approached about whether I would like to join the committee. I agreed and at dinner this evening at Professor Smythe’s home, I made the acquaintance of a good number of the American members.

  Three people from the German embassy are remaining behind for now: Hürter, Dr. Rosen, and Scharffenberg. It’s unclear to me why they’re keeping Dr. Rosen here. When I learn that he did not volunteer, I ask Frau Trautmann to intercede with the ambassador, who is still here for the moment, to get the order reversed. Frau Trautmann will do what she can. What good to us is someone whose heart is not in this? Dr. Rosen knows nothing about my intervention yet and he never needs to learn. Melchior of Carlowitz & Co. tried to talk me out of my decision to stay. I thanked him, but declined.

  I am not walking into this enterprise with my eyes closed. My decision has been made. Don’t be angry with me, Dora dear. I cannot do otherwise! By the way, Dr. Hirschberg and his family, as well as Frau von Schuckmann, are all staying on; so is Mr. Hansen, the head of Texas Oil Co. So I’m not the only one risking his hide. Mr. Han is determined to stay by me through thick and thin. I expected no less of him. A fine fellow!

  20 NOVEMBER

  At 6 p.m. an extra edition of a Chinese newspaper announces that the Chinese government has been moved to Chungking. Nanking Broadcasting confirms the news and at the same time declares that Nanking will be defended to the last drop of blood.

  21 NOVEMBER

  I’m worried about my dugout. The water keeps on rising. I’m afraid we won’t be able to use it for the next few days, since we don’t have time now to bail it out. I’m on the lookout for a better dugout. There really must be several bombproof shelters in the city now. If I could find something for me and my charges, what a fine thing that would be!

  Mr. Pai, the manager of the electricity works, asks if he can live at my house. Agreed! And now here comes the first engineer, Mr. Loh Fatsen, who wants to live here, too, along with his wife and servants. Once the Transocean Agency has left on the Kutwo,the schoolhouse will be empty and available again.

  At 1:30 this afternoon I drove to Chung Shang wharf to check on my baggage, hoping to take the launch scheduled to leave for the Kutwoat 2 o’clock. The launch finally arrives at 4. I have only 10 minutes on board the Kutwoto race through the baggage room. Much to my satisfaction, I find the last crates that were sent off this morning. After a brief good-bye to the passengers, who are calmly sitting there playing cards and drinking beer, I take the launch, which is honking impatiently now, back to Hsiakwan. My last bridge is burned.

  I visit Dr. Baerensprung, the successor to Freiherr von Lamezan, who is currently in charge of the police. I would like a pass to be able to drive my car without being stopped after the second alarm sounds, and after 10 p.m. as well. Baerensprung is likewise leaving for Hankow tomorrow, he has just received his orders from the marshal. He gives me his calling card to present to General Wang Kopang, the chief of police, whom I am supposed to visit tomorrow—that’s if he hasn’t already left as well.

  22 NOVEMBER

  My neighbor the cobbler can go to hell! Whenever the ying baosounds, he comes running with his wife and children, grandfather and grandmother, and God knows how many other relatives, but now that there’s three feet of water to be bailed in the dugout he’s nowhere to be seen. Just wait!

  A call from Dr. Rosen: We few Germans who have remained behind are to discuss our future at the now empty embassy at ten o’clock. Meanwhile I’ve drummed together all available hands and backs to bail out the dugout. As for the cobbler, all is forgotten and forgiven. He, his wife, his three children, and a half dozen of his relatives have been busy bailing away. We finally got the pit emptied out, but then discovered that unfortunately part of the dugout, the west wall, has collapsed.

  In between two alarms, a conversation with Dr. Rosen at the German embassy. Rosen is staying on after all. My intercession did no good.

  Five p.m. meeting of the International Committee for Establishing a Neutral Zone for Noncombatants in Nanking. They elect me chairman. My protests are to no avail. I give in for the sake of a good cause. I hope I prove worthy of the post, which can very well become important. The German ambassador, to whom I introduce Dr. Smythe shortly before he leaves to board his ship, gives his consent to the text of a telegram to be sent to the Japanese ambassador by way of the American consulate general in Shanghai, which has a wireless. We already have the permission of the English and American ambassadors. The committee decides that the text of the telegram should not be published before the Japanese ambassador in Shanghai has received it. We truly hope our appeal is not in vain. France is not represented on the committee, since there are no French here. The same is true of Italy. The text of the telegram reads in part as follows:

  An international committee composed of nationals of Denmark, Germany, Great Britain, and the United States, desires to suggest to the Chinese and Japanese authorities the establishment of a Safety Zone for Civilian Refugees in the unfortunate event of hostilities at or near Nanking. The International Committee will undertake to secure from the Chinese authorities specific guarantees that the proposed “Safety Zone” will be made free and kept free from military establishments and offices, including those of communications; from the presence of armed men other than civilian police with pistols; and from the passage of soldiers or military officers in any capacity. The International Committee would inspect and observe the Safety Zone to see that these undertakings are satisfactorily carried out. . . .

  The International Committee earnestly hopes that the Japanese authorities may find it possible for humanita
rian reasons to respect the civilian character of this Safety Zone. The Committee believes that merciful foresight on behalf of civilians will bring honor to the responsible authorities on both sides. In order that the necessary negotiations with the Chinese authorities may be completed in the shortest possible time, and also in order that adequate preparations may be made for the care of refugees, the Committee would respectfully request a prompt reply from the Japanese authorities to this proposal.

  LATER

  Returning home from the committee meeting, I am asked by our houseboy Chang to find a doctor for his wife. Dr. Hirschberg comes to examine her and determines that Chang’s wife must have had a miscarriage about three or four days ago; she must be taken to Kulou Hospital as soon as possible.

  23 NOVEMBER

  My fifty-fifth birthday—congratulations, Rabe! At first my mood was somewhat gloomy and overcast. We could use some overcast weather, too, right now! I received a telegram from Mutti and a very lovely scarf. Many thanks! The scarf however has not yet arrived. Frau Trautmann was supposed to bring it with her, but I haven’t been able to make much sense of her explanations. Presumably the little package was sent by mail, and it never got through. So that’s that!

  Around 5 a.m. I was roused from bed by a phone call from Cavalry Captain Lorenz. He is just returning from the front and wants to board the Kutwo;but it steamed away yesterday evening. At 7 o’clock Herr Huldermann, editor of the Ostasiatischer Lloyd,and Wolf Schenke were at the door. Both have made their way here from Shanghai and want to speak to the ambassador. They take Hürter’s car to drive to Wuhu, where they hope to catch up with the Kutwo.At 8 o’clock I take Chang’s wife to Kulou Hospital. The poor woman is in terrible pain.

  A steady stream of wounded men are arriving at Hsiakwan station. Dr. Smythe sends some student volunteers to the station to receive them. I have to lend the students my car.

  Mr. Han arrives with some good news. A Chinese friend of his wants to give me two trucks with 100 canisters of gasoline and 200 sacks of flour. Now that’s a birthday present! We can do something with that, particularly since the committee will have urgent need of food and vehicles. If only the news turns out to be true!

  5 p.m.: Tea party given by Mr. Chang Chun, the former foreign minister and now chief secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. In addition to about 50 Americans and Europeans from various countries, the party was attended by: General Tang, who is in charge of the defense of the city, General Wang Kopang, the chief of police, and Mr. Ma, the mayor. The “main idea” is that all of us remaining Europeans and Americans are to gather each evening between eight and nine o’clock at the International Club, so that we can remain in contact with leading Chinese figures or their representatives. A good idea. We had a “roundtable” of that sort in Peking, too, during the world war.

  My marvelous birthday present of two trucks plus drivers, gasoline, and flour has turned into one empty truck with no driver, etc. All the rest is supposed to be standing somewhere behind Ho Ping Men, the closed city gate.

  Wolf Schenke: Nanking’s Final Days10

  On my return I found remaining behind: three members of the embassy staff who had been assigned to stay at their posts and Herr John H. D. Rabe, in whose house I had always been a welcome guest on earlier visits to Nanking. Herr Kröger from Carlowitz & Co. and Herr Sperling had likewise remained behind, though I did not have occasion to meet them. Each painted the most dreadful picture of the imminent capture of the city. Each was aware that his remaining behind might well prove to be a matter of life and death. It was less that they feared the shelling of the city by Japanese artillery and airplanes. That danger was really nothing compared to what was to be expected from the flood of retreating Chinese troops. They considered all eventualities, but the results of their deliberations were anything but hopeful. Had not the troops of the Kuomintang under Chiang Kai-shek murdered foreigners and raped foreign women upon their arrival in Nanking in 1927?

  They had seen the Szechuan soldiers march to the front, looking like the semibandits they were. In previous wars it had been standard practice for Chinese soldiers, especially those of defeated and retreating armies, to burn, sack, and pillage the local population. They pictured the retreating army, defeated and demoralized by the Japanese, flooding through Nanking. Would not their rage and hate be directed against the whites? The old xenophobia would surely break out anew.

  They recalled events that had occurred in Canton a decade before. These included scenes of bestial cruelty beyond the imaginings of a European brain. It is not easy to brazen out that sort of future. But that is what those who remained behind in Nanking did.

  Unless I obtained a press card from the Chinese foreign ministry, it would be impossible for me to send press telegrams home. After a long conversation with the remaining staff at the embassy, it was agreed that I should continue on to Hankow.

  Herr Scharffenberg quickly scanned the mail I had brought with me (from Shanghai), culled out what was secondary, and put the important items in a new envelope. We wanted to take them on with us to Wuhu, where the German ambassador Dr. Trautmann was on board the Kutwo.

  Despite our haste, I wanted to say goodbye to Herr Rabe. Hürter turned off the main road toward “Siemens City,” as the Germans in Nanking called the grounds of Siemens China Co., where there was a little German school, which owed its foundation primarily to Herr Rabe. Johny Rabe was sitting at his typewriter in his office, writing his diary. Rabe had not remained in Nanking for business reasons, but in order to erect a zone of refuge for the 200,000 noncombatants of Nanking, similar to that created by Pater Jacquinot in Shanghai.

  I was personally very skeptical of the plan, since the committee lacked the authority to maintain law and order and prevent either Chinese or, later on, Japanese soldiers from entering the zone. Rabe said: “Well, after working here for 30 years and spending most of your life here, it’s worth taking the risk.”

  In our brief conversation he still kept his old good humor, but it seemed to me to be more of a gallows humor now. Although I had every good reason to leave Nanking, somehow in the presence of Rabe and Hürter I felt like someone who is saving his own neck while others march toward an almost certain death.

  24 NOVEMBER

  Reuters has issued a premature report about the International Committee’s plans. Dr. Rosen heard on the radio yesterday noon that Tokyo is already protesting on account of the Reuters telegram. They want to know why the American embassy, which has already left Nanking, should have anything to do with such plans. Upon learning this, Dr. Rosen sent the following telegram, via the American Navy, to the German general consulate in Shanghai:

  Local international private committee with English, American, Danish, and German members, under chairmanship of German Siemens agent, Herr Rabe, applied to Chinese and Japanese for creation of civilian safety zone should Nanking become directly involved in hostilities. Via general consulate, American ambassador passed suggestion on to Japanese ambassador in Shanghai and to Tokyo. New safety zone to be safe refuge only for noncombatants if needed.

  Given German chairmanship, I would ask unofficial, but no less warm support of humanitarian proposals.

  Have only phrase book11here. Please pass on to Tokyo and send both your response and answer from Tokyo via American Navy.

  ROSEN

  Dr. J. Henry Liu, chief of staff at the Central Hospital, has departed, and two of the doctors that he left in charge have likewise bolted. If the American missionary doctors don’t hold out, I don’t know what will become of all the many casualties. Meanwhile, I have got the one truck I was given up and running. Liu, our chauffeur, is driving under a German flag in order to keep it from being commandeered. The Chinese soldiers are now commandeering every truck they come across. I hear from Christian Kröger (who works for Carlowitz) that a ming linhas been issued, that is, an order for all the inhabitants of Nanking to leave the city.

  25 NOVEMBER

  We’re worried about th
e doctor problem. We’ve telegraphed the Red Cross in Hong Kong, Shanghai, and Hankow to send us doctors and medicines. We couldn’t ask for foreign doctors because the telegram was sent via the American embassy, which, like all other embassies, has ordered its citizens to leave Nanking.

  I never dreamed that I would be called upon once again to save the old Imperial Chinese curio collection,12 and yet it has come to that. The truck, my birthday vehicle from the I-Ho-Tung Brick Works, after having been used for a while to transport students to care for the wounded, has been placed at the disposal of Dr. Han Liwu,13who has assembled a whole parking lot full of trucks in order to take to the harbor, would you believe, 15,000 crates of curios that the government wants to ship to Hankow. They’re afraid that if they fall into the hands of the Japanese, they’ll be taken to Peking. Where they actually belong!

  It was reported yesterday on Shanghai radio that the Japanese command is receptive to our attempts to create a neutral zone here for noncombatants. No official reply has arrived as yet.

  Han’s dugout has now collapsed as well. He has to build a new one. Besides which, he has been getting a room in the school ready for his family to move into. Frau Ella Gao has sent a number of crates and trunks for me to take care of, among them two wall clocks wrapped in paper and inscribed: “Fragile, Clocks!”

  My neighbor, the cobbler, that miserable cobbler, has now become my friend. We are bosom buddies. He and his family have been bailing water from the dugout all day, and on the side he has made me a lovely pair of brown boots for ten dollars. I volunteered an additional dollar to further cement our friendship.