The Good Man of Nanking

by John Rabe

  At 8 o’clock Herr Hatz shows up in a truck with a Japanese police commissioner and a whole battery of gendarmes, who are supposed to guard Ginling College tonight. Our protest at the Japanese embassy already seems to have helped a little.

  I open the gate at our Committee Headquarters at Ninhai Lu No. 5 in order to let in a number of women and children who have fled to us. The wailing of these poor women and children echoes in my ears for hours afterward. The 5,500 square feet in my garden and grounds keep filling up with more and more refugees. There must be about 300 people living here with me now. My house is considered the safest spot. When I’m at home that’s probably true, for I physically remove each intruder, but when I’m gone the safety doesn’t amount to much. Japanese notices pasted on doors do little good. The soldiers pay no attention to them. Most climb over the garden wall anyway. Chang’s wife became so ill during the night that we had to take her to Kulou Hospital early this morning. Unfortunately several nurses at Kulou Hospital have been raped as well.

  19 DECEMBER

  The night passed peacefully at our house. Next to our main office on Ninhai Lu is a house where about 20 women are sheltered, and Japanese soldiers broke in there to rape the women. Hatz springs over the garden wall and chases the scoundrels off. The following plea for help has come from a refugee camp at Canton Road No. 83–85:

  To the International Committee of the Nanking Safety Zone, Nanking

  There are about 540 refugees crowded in Nos. 83 and 85 on Canton Road. Since 13th inst. up to the 17th those houses have been searched and robbed many many times a day by Japanese soldiers in groups of three to five. Today the soldiers are looting the places mentioned above continually and all the jewelries, money, watches, clothes of any sort are taken away. At present women of younger ages are forced to go with the soldiers every night who send motor trucks to take them and release them the next morning. More than 30 women and girls have been raped. The women and children are crying all night. Conditions inside the compound are worse than we can describe. Please give us help.

  Yours truly ALL THE REFUGEES. Nanking, 18 December 1937

  We don’t know how we can protect these people. The Japanese soldiers are completely out of control. Under such circumstances I can’t find the workers needed to get the electricity works running again. When Mr. Kikuchi calls on me about it again today, I point out to him that the workers have run off because they do not believe that they and their families will be protected, particularly since not even we Europeans are spared the bestiality of these soldiers.

  Kikuchi answers: “It was no different in Belgium.”

  6:00 P.M.

  Six Japanese climbed over my garden wall and attempted to open the gates from the inside. When I arrive and shine my flashlight in the face of one of the bandits, he reaches for his pistol, but his hand drops quickly enough when I yell at him and hold my swastika armband under his nose. Then, on my orders, all six have to scramble back over the wall. My gates will never be opened to riffraff like that.

  There are large fires spreading to the north and the south of my house. Since the waterworks have been destroyed and the firemen have been taken away by the soldiers, there’s nothing we can do. In Gou Fo Lu it looks as if a whole block of houses is burning down. The sky is bright as day. The 300 to 400 refugees here in my garden—I no longer know how many there really are—have used straw mats, old doors, and sheets of tin to build huts for a little protection against the snow and cold. Unfortunately they have started to cook inside these huts. I had to forbid it out of fear of fire. I’m so afraid a fire will break out, for there are still 64 large cans of gasoline stored on the grounds. I have ordered that cooking be done in only two places in the garden.

  Crowds of refugees thronged Rabe’s house and the streets of the Safety Zone.

  20 DECEMBER

  At our committee’s headquarters I find a Japanese officer who asks for 20 workers to clean the Metropol Hotel, which is to be occupied by Japanese staff officers. I give him 16 workers from our committee, whom he personally delivers back to me by truck at noon and to each of whom, moreover, he pays 5 China dollars. This is the first time that we have experienced serious consideration on the part of Japanese military authorities. And it obviously made a good impression on the Chinese.

  Returning to Ninhai Lu, I make the acquaintance of Herr Bernhard Arp Sindberg of the Kiangnan Cement Works in Hsi Sha Shan. Sindberg had wanted to bring several wounded Chinese to Nanking, since he had heard on the radio that Nanking was perfectly calm, with its electricity and waterworks as well as its telephone system fully restored. He was not a little amazed to learn about current conditions. About halfway here he had to send the wounded Chinese back to Hsi Sha Shan, since the Japanese wouldn’t let him through. He took it into his head, however, that he had to press on to Nanking no matter what and walked a good part of the way before being picked up by a Japanese truck that brought him safely to the North Gate. Now the question is how to get back home.

  At 6 o’clock, I was paid a visit from Mr. Moriyama, the correspondent of the Osaka Asahi Shimbun,who was introduced to me by Rev. Mills. Moriyama speaks good German and English and interviews me in regular journalistic fashion. I do not keep my opinions to myself, and I ask him to use his influence to see that order is reestablished among the Japanese troops as quickly as possible. He admits that the matter is indeed urgent and crucial, since otherwise the reputation of the Japanese army will suffer.

  As I write this a good number of houses are on fire again, some not all that far away, including the YMCA building. One might almost believe that these fires are set with the knowledge, and perhaps even on the order, of the Japanese military authorities.

  During my absence, Japanese soldiers tried to break through the main iron-plated gate to my house with their bayonets. They didn’t succeed, but several bayonet slashes in the doors and the bent corners of the iron-work attest to their activity. I order the battered doors hammered back into shape as best as possible. The bayonet slashes are to be left as a memento. Kröger and Sindberg come by to borrow a car from Han for Sindberg’s trip home. Han unfortunately assents to this; I am not at all in agreement, because Han’s car is sure to be a casualty of the trip, or if not the whole car, then most certainly all four tires.

  21 DECEMBER

  There can no longer be any doubt that the Japanese are burning the city, presumably to erase all traces of their looting and thievery. Yesterday evening the city was on fire in six different places.

  I was awakened at 2:30 a.m. by the sound of walls collapsing and roofs crashing. There was now a very great danger that fire would spread to the last row of houses between Chung Shan Lu and my own house, but thank God it didn’t come to that. Only flying and drifting sparks presented a threat to the straw roofs of my refugee camp in the garden and to the supply of gasoline stored there, which absolutely has to be moved.

  The following telegram gives some idea of the desperate mood among the Americans.

  They want to send this telegram by way of the Japanese embassy, since there is no other way to forward a telegram. The text, however, is so transparent that I seriously doubt that the Japanese will even accept the telegram for sending:

  Nanking 20th December 1937

  Telegram to American Consulate-General in Shanghai:

  Important questions require immediate presence American diplomatic representatives in Nanking stop Situation daily more urgent stop Please inform ambassador and Department of State stop signed Magee, Mills, McCallum, Riggs, Smythe, Sone, Trimmer, Vautrin, WilsonDelivered to Japanese Embassy 20 December, with request for transmission by naval wireless.

  BATES

  The Americans are indeed in a bad way. While I succeed in making a suitable impression by pompously pointing to my swastika armband and party badge, and at the German flags in my house, the Japanese have no regard whatever for the American flag. Whereas I simply bellowed down the soldiers who stopped my car this morning and after pointing to
my flag was allowed to drive on my way, shots were fired at Dr. Trimmer and Mr. McCallum inside Kulou Hospital. Fortunately the shots missed; but the fact that we are being shot at is so monstrous that you can understand why the Americans, who have given refuge to so many women and girls at their universities, have lost their patience.

  How long, Dr. Smythe asked quite rightly yesterday, will we be able to keep up the bluff that we are equal to the situation? If one Chinese man in our refugee camps kills a Japanese soldier for raping his wife or daughter, everything will fall apart; then there’ll be a bloodbath inside the Safety Zone.

  The news has just arrived that, just as I predicted, the telegram to the American consulate general in Shanghai was not accepted by the Japanese embassy.

  I’m having the entire gasoline supply moved this morning from my house and garden to Ninhai Lu, because I’m afraid that a whole row of houses on Chung Shan Lu will be torched. We now know all the signs of an impending fire. If a largish number of trucks assembles in a given spot, the houses are usually looted and torched shortly thereafter.

  At 2 this afternoon all the Germans and Americans, etc., meaning the entire foreign colony, assemble outside Kulou Hospital and march in closed ranks to the Japanese embassy. There were 14 Americans, five Germans, two White Russians, and an Austrian. We presented a letter to the Japanese embassy, asking, for humanitarian reasons, that:

  the burning of large parts of the city be stopped;

  an end be put at once to the disorderly conduct of the Japanese troops; and

  whatever steps necessary be taken to restore law and order, so that our food and coal supplies can be replenished. All those demonstrating signed the letter.

  We are introduced to Commandant Matsui, who shakes hands all round. I assume the role of spokesman at the Japanese embassy and explain to Mr. Tanaka that we infer that the city is to be burned down. Tanaka denies this with a smile, promises however to discuss the first two points in our letter with the military authorities. As to point 3, he refuses even to discuss it. The Japanese themselves are short on rations and are not interested in whether or not we can make do with our supplies.

  During our visit at the Japanese embassy, a Japanese naval officer hands me a letter from Dr. Rosen, who is on board the English gunboat Bee, which is anchored very close to Nanking but may not dock. They don’t want any more witnesses here. I have no idea how Dr. Rosen, Scharffenberg, and Hürter found their way onto the Bee.Mr. Fukuda, whom I ask about this, fears that the Jardines Hulkhas also been shelled and sunk.

  Letter from Legation Secretary Rosen to John Rabe

  Near Nanking, 19 December 1937

  On board the HMS Bee

  Dear Herr Rabe:

  We have been just outside the city since yesterday, but cannot enter it. Please let me know how you all are and whether any German buildings have been damaged. I can wire the ambassador directly from on board ship. We’ve been through a lot ourselves, more about that in person later. I will attempt to get this letter to you via the Japanese (and hope that your answer will arrive by the same route).

  With many greetings and Heil Hitler,

  Respectfully,

  ROSEN

  22 DECEMBER

  Two Japanese from Military Police Headquarters pay me a visit and tell me that the Japanese now want to form their own refugee committee. All refugees will have to be registered. The “bad people” (meaning ex-soldiers) are to be put in a special camp. Our help is requested, and I agree to give it.

  In the meantime the official arson continues. I am constantly worried that the fires destroying buildings near the Shanghai Com-Sav Bank will spread across to the west side of the main street, which is part of the Zone. If that were to happen my house would also be in danger. While cleaning up the Zone, we find many bodies in the ponds, civilians who have been shot (30 in just one pond), most of them with their hands bound, some with stones tied to their necks.

  The number of refugees living with me is still growing. Six people are now sleeping just in my little private office. The floor in the office, the grounds of the garden are thick with sleepers, all of them a blood-red hue from the light of the massive fires. I’ve just now counted seven different fire locations.

  I promised the Japanese to help them look for employees of the electricity works and told them to look, among other places, in Hsiakwan, where 54 electricity plant workers were housed. We now learn that about three or four days ago, 43 of them were tied up and led down to the riverbank and machine-gunned, ostensibly because they were the employees of an enterprise managed by the Chinese government. News of this execution was brought to me by one of the condemned workers, who fell unwounded into the river beneath the bodies of two of the victims and so was able to save himself.

  This afternoon Kröger and Hatz saw a Chinese being bayoneted in the neck by a drunken Japanese soldier; when they hurried to his aid, they were themselves attacked. Hatz defended himself with a chair. The Japanese is reported to have succeeded in tying Kröger up, possibly because Kröger’s burned left hand is still bandaged. Mr. Fitch and I raced at top speed to their rescue, met up with them as they were heading for home, and returned with them then to investigate the case on the spot. We found the soldier still there, being slapped around by a Japanese general who just happened by. Mr. Tanaka from the Japanese embassy was also present.

  The soldier had apparently painted the two Germans’ role in a very unfavorable light, but all the same—and luckily for us—he still was given a thrashing that brought tears to his eyes. The affair turned out all right for us once again; but it could have turned out otherwise.

  CHAPTER 5

  CHRISTMAS

  23 DECEMBER

  YESTERDAY EVENING Police Chief Takadama paid me a visit and asked for a list of all damage or loss of property suffered by foreigners here. By today noon, then, a list has to be prepared of all the buildings that are or were occupied by foreigners. Only national embassies can just rattle off that sort of thing. For our committee, it’s not an easy job. But we do it. I sit down with Kröger, Sperling, and Hatz, we divide up the various districts and arrive with the list right on time. Going by it, a total of 38 German buildings have been looted and one (Hempel’s Hotel) burned down. The Americans have a much longer list of losses. There are about 158 American buildings looted in all.

  While I’m waiting for the list to be put in final form, Chang comes running in and tells me that a Japanese soldier has broken in at home, has torn my office apart, and is doing his damnedest to crack my safe, in which there are about 23,000 dollars. Kröger and I race home in the car. The intruder had just absconded. He’d been unable to open the safe by himself.

  We sit down for tiffin,25 and here come three more soldiers over the wall, whom we chase back with some choice words. My door is simply no longer open to this criminal pack. Kröger says that he is prepared to house-sit for me this afternoon. Shortly before I drive back to headquarters, six more Japanese bandits scale the wall. These fellows have to scram right back over it as well. In toto, I’ve probably experienced close to 20 such incursions by now.

  This afternoon I inform the chief of police that I am going to keep this pest out of my house no matter what and that I will defend the honor of the German flag even if it means risking my life. This does not appear to move him. A shrug, and the problem has been dealt with as far as he is concerned. Unfortunately there are not enough police troops available, he says to his regret, to keep these bad soldiers in line.

  I’m driving home at 6 o’clock this evening and discover a whole row of houses going up in flames on this side of the bridge railing on Chung Shan Lu. Luckily the wind is blowing in our favor, the rain of sparks is drifting north. At the same time another building behind the Shanghai Com-Sav Bank bursts into flames. It is no longer a secret that we are dealing here with systematic arson. The four houses next to the bridge railing are inside our Safety Zone.

  My refugees stand tightly pressed together in the rain and m
utely watch the lovely horrible inferno. If these flames were to reach our house, these poor people would have no idea where to go. I am their last hope.

  Chang has decorated four little kerosene lamps, along with the rest of the candles—our entire lighting system at the moment—with evergreens. He also unpacked the red Advent star and tied red silk ribbons to the candles. Tomorrow is 24 December, Christmas Eve, Gretel’s birthday.

  My neighbor, the cobbler, has resoled my old boots for Christmas; he also made a leather case for my field glasses. I gave him 10 dollars, but he just pressed the money back into my hand, not saying a word. Chang says that the man could not possibly take money from me; he is far too much in my debt as it is, the poor fellow!

  The letter that Herr Sindberg brought today from Hsi Sha Shan (Sindberg drives back and forth with no problem between Nanking and the Kiangnan Cement Works, a good I½ hours away) also included a petition to the Japanese authorities from 17,000 Chinese refugees in Hsi Sha Shan asking to be mercifully protected from the excesses of the Japanese soldiers, who are causing the same havoc there as here in Nanking.

  A young boy bayoneted to death

  This mother brought her baby, with bayonet wounds and burns, to the hospital for help.

  These photographs of burn victims were taken by hospital staff to document the atrocities.

  24 DECEMBER

  This morning I carefully packed up the red Advent star that we lighted yesterday evening and gave it as a Christmas present, along with a Siemens calendar notebook, to the ladies at Kulou Hospital. Dr. Wilson used the opportunity to show me a few of his patients. The woman who was admitted because of a miscarriage and had the bayonet cuts all over her face is doing fairly well. A sampan owner who was shot in the jaw and burned over most of his body when someone poured gasoline over him and then set him on fire managed to speak a few words, but he will probably die in the course of the day. Almost two-thirds of his skin is burnt. I also went down to the morgue in the basement and had them uncover the bodies that were delivered last night. Among them, a civilian with his eyes burned out and his head totally burned, who had likewise had gasoline poured over him by Japanese soldiers. The body of a little boy, maybe seven years old, had four bayonet wounds in it, one in the belly about as long as your finger. He died two days after being admitted to the hospital without ever once uttering a sound of pain.