Dreams of the Red Phoenix

by Virginia Pye

  Shirley wished she could engage him further but bowed quickly and said good-night.

  “Good night, Nurse Carson,” he replied as she stepped out of the tent. “Safe travels back to your home county.”

  Twenty-one

  Captain Hsu stood alone—solitary and quiet for a moment, a man usually surrounded by people. Shirley couldn’t imagine what went through his mind as he gazed into the embers. From such different worlds, their paths had crossed and even joined for a time, but she hardly knew him and never would. She allowed herself to finally realize that she would be leaving soon.

  “I hope you had a successful meeting,” he said as she stepped closer.

  “Did you know that he reads an extraordinary amount?”

  “There is much to learn.”

  “He had advice for me. Rather stern advice.”

  “And you are actually willing to follow it?”

  “I believe so,” she said with a smile. “He has instructed me to go back to America right away and raise funds and awareness for your cause. He thinks I will be of more use there than here.”

  “That sounds correct,” he said and turned her way. “But I will be sad to see you go, Nurse Carson. I will miss you.”

  He had never spoken so openly before, and it made her blush.

  “We are friends,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, “and comrades.”

  They would say their good-byes soon, and she would return home to tell others about the worthy work of the Communists in China. But in her mind, and perhaps even her heart, she would be remembering this moment when Captain Hsu had confirmed their friendship and then gracefully let her go.

  “I will take you back to the mission first thing in the morning,” he said. “It is too late tonight to travel. You can sleep a few hours, and we’ll depart at dawn.”

  “But I told Charles I’d be home tonight. I’d like to go now, please.”

  “I’m sorry, but I must attend a meeting. Our leader accomplishes a great deal in the dead of night. I will escort you to the women’s tent. Comrade Li is in charge there, and she will give you a change of clothing. You can rest for a while.”

  She followed him through the camp, passing the injured soldiers and groups of men who sat chatting on their bedrolls and playing cards at makeshift tables. Many of them bowed their heads deferentially as Captain Hsu passed. She wanted to ask him about his role at the camp and the workings of the Eighth Route Army. If she was going to tell people about it back home, she needed to learn more. She would press Captain Hsu to fill her in as they rode back to the mission together in the morning.

  But for now, she noticed that the men appeared content, despite their poor nutrition and lack of proper weapons, uniforms, and supplies. Shirley could tell she was being converted to the Communist cause, precisely what Reverend Wells and Kathryn had warned her against. And yet, she thought, if only they could see these soldiers, who did not swagger or misbehave. The rural Chinese boys seemed the opposite of the Japanese soldiers, who had been trained to lose their humanity in war. These young men, reading by candlelight and carrying on discussions in serious tones, appeared to be gaining theirs.

  “Comrade Li is expecting you,” said Captain Hsu. “She’s a bit gruff, but I think you’ll be fine. I will collect you at dawn.”

  He offered a quick bow and departed. Shirley stepped inside the long, open-sided building, where a sea of women soldiers lay asleep on straw mats. At the near end, several sat whispering in conversation by a flickering oil lamp. Shirley went to them and bowed to the oldest of the group, a matron with a waist as thick around as her chest.

  “Good evening, Comrade Li,” Shirley said in the local dialect and bowed again.

  The younger women giggled, apparently amused by the sight of her. She looked down at her disheveled appearance. Her lace skirt was covered in yellow dust, and the linen of her riding coat appeared wrinkled and stained. Her untucked blouse was open low, exposing a gold necklace bearing the phoenix charm that Caleb had given to her. Shirley wasn’t dressed formally, or particularly well, but these women in pale-blue uniforms and gray caps with thick belts to hold up their pants might never have seen a white woman before, or a woman dressed for anything but difficult work. The younger ones had narrow hips and hardly any breasts, and Shirley assumed they were underfed, even starving, farm girls who, like their brothers, had joined up when the army passed through their desolate provinces and felt lucky to be here.

  “Captain Hsu brought me,” she said with another bow.

  “I know who you are.” Comrade Li studied Shirley from the toes of her riding boots up past the hem of her skirt and the length of her long coat, then let out a disapproving grunt. “Uniform there.” She pointed to a pile of folded clothing at the foot of a cot.

  A strong body odor emanated from the older woman when she lifted her arm, and Shirley told herself not to be prissy and particular. She thanked the matron and went to retrieve the clothing she had been assigned. When she looked about for a private place to change, Comrade Li gave a sharp look and Shirley understood she was meant to disrobe right there. The young women followed her with great curiosity and watched as she began to undress. When she removed her riding coat and placed it on the straw mat, the boldest of the girls reached over and ran a finger down the lapel.

  Shirley said, “Try it on if you like.”

  The girl’s eyes brightened as she snatched it up. She was about to slip her arm into the sleeve when Comrade Li sauntered over and reached out a hand. The girl gave it to her, and Comrade Li tried to fit it over her substantial frame, but the seams pulled across her broad back. The older woman took it off in disgust. Shirley gathered it and swung it over the matron’s shoulders like a cape. The girls seemed to like that, and Comrade Li gave an approving nod.

  Shirley pulled on a pair of light-blue cotton pants and a matching tunic. She cinched the belt at her waist. Finally she slipped into a pair of thin canvas shoes that were too small, so she wore them as sandals with the heels flattened. The other women watched as she set a green army cap with the red star upon her head. Although there was no mirror with which to check, Shirley could tell from their abundant smiles that it looked fine.

  “If you stay long enough, we will cut off your fancy curls!” Comrade Li let loose a guttural laugh and tugged on a handful of Shirley’s thick, wavy hair. “Western women wear hair every which way. Very decadent hair! But now we sleep,” Comrade Li said. “You lie next to me, and I make sure you do not wander off.”

  Captain Hsu would have been proud of the restraint Shirley showed. “That is very kind of you, Comrade Li, but I would like to get some air before I sleep. I want to walk around. I ask your permission to go,” Shirley said and bowed. Comrade Li looked repulsed by the strange habits of American women but dismissed her.

  Outdoors again, Shirley was plunged into country darkness. The bonfire had gone out. Across the vast sky, the stars seemed to have only multiplied since earlier in the evening, a pale wash strung from horizon to horizon. Three swift shooting stars passed overhead in a period of minutes, each a small, startling miracle. They left behind tails that hung in the blackness long enough to become etched into Shirley’s memory. She was in an army camp halfway around the world from where she had been born, in a danger zone, and yet she felt strangely at ease and even energized by the autumn air that rolled across from the distant mountains. So much seemed possible.

  Captain Hsu stepped out of the shadows, a cigarette glowing in his hand. “Comrade Carson,” he said, his white teeth showing as he smiled, “that uniform looks good on you. But did you not like your sleeping accommodations?”

  “I was assigned a problematic bedmate.”

  “Soldiers do not usually have a choice in such matters. I believe you were treated in a special way again.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. There’s no disguising it. I am a foreigner here, with all the privileges and complications that entails.”

  He took a drag on
his cigarette and passed it to her, and she took it.

  “We should get some sleep,” he said, “even for an hour or two. Here, come with me.”

  She went with him into the second large, open-sided structure. In the flickering light, she saw the sleeping bodies of several hundred Chinese soldiers. Some lay curled on their sides on mats. Others lay on their backs on the hard dirt floor, their mouths open and snoring. Many pressed up against each other in a jumble, like puppies, Shirley thought. Captain Hsu did not pause but stepped over and around the sleeping men, and she followed.

  When they reached an opening large enough for them both, Captain Hsu sat down and began to unlace his boots. Shirley glanced around and saw they were near the very center of the space. It made her uncomfortable to be surrounded by men on all sides, but no other spot appeared available. Captain Hsu took off his cap but left his boots on. Then he offered her his hand and gestured for her to wedge herself in beside him.

  Shirley sat, too, and took off her cap and canvas shoes as the captain settled into a sleeping position on his side. Seeing no other options, she lay down on her side in front of him. He scooted forward and, as if it was nothing unusual, leaned his chest against her back and draped an arm over her shoulder. Shirley and Captain Hsu spooned. She lay stock-still, her limbs rigid, her mind buzzing with concern. As she was trying to think what to say to him to clarify their friendship and to make sure that he did not misunderstand her fondness for him, he began to snore.

  Shirley smiled to herself as her tense and exhausted body leaned into the good captain. She listened to his breathing, then to the exhalations all around. Slowly she became quiet inside. Her own breathing blended with the waves of the many other breaths. As she started to drift off, she remembered Caleb’s words: We are one. In a room crowded with Chinese soldiers, Shirley felt safer and more at peace than she could ever recall feeling before.

  ...

  Voices woke her with a start, and she sat up, Captain Hsu no longer at her side. Only a few soldiers remained in the vast tent. Shirley couldn’t imagine how she had slept through the departure of the others. Morning sunlight sliced over the nearby rocks, signaling that it was long past dawn. She yanked on her canvas shoes and cap and hurried outside. Soldiers ran in all directions, carrying supplies and rifles on their shoulders. She wove through them and did not stop to ask what was going on, hoping to find Captain Hsu at the center of the camp.

  But at the entrance she was slowed by the sight of incoming wounded, some carried on stretchers, others stumbling against one another. Shirley knelt beside a new arrival, a young man shot in the shoulder. She would need hot water and pincers to remove the bullets and was furious again for having left her medical kit back at the clinic.

  “Excuse me,” she asked a passing soldier, “I need boiling water and surgical instruments. And bandages. I’m a nurse. I’m here to help.”

  The young man stared at her and finally gestured to a nearby tent before hurrying off. Through the open flaps, she could see several men leaning over a patient as they performed what appeared to be a surgical procedure.

  “I’m here to help,” she said to a soldier at the entrance.

  He did not respond, and she remembered that these boys came from all over the country. There was no telling what version of the language they spoke.

  “I’m a nurse,” she tried again.

  He motioned with his rifle for her to leave. When the boy glanced away, she slipped past, but a different soldier stepped forward, his rifle pointing directly at her. He shouted in a dialect she didn’t know, although his meaning was clear. More soldiers formed a circle around her. Shirley pushed away from them and marched off. She searched again for Captain Hsu. She felt useless without him. She wondered if she could possibly hurry to the mission that morning and return with nurses and supplies. The trip had not seemed long the night before. She spotted the old mule that had brought them and had known the route. Shirley headed toward it now.

  But just then, a horse-drawn cart pulled up, and Shirley saw the strikingly blond hair of one of the passengers. She went to greet the foreigners and offer them assistance but stopped short. On the bed of straw in the back lay a pale man, his neck sliced almost all the way through and his chest punctured. If he wasn’t dead yet, he would be very soon. His wife and daughters sat weeping over him. They, too, were splattered with blood, overly bright and gaudy in the morning light.

  “Where are you from?” Shirley shouted to be heard above the many panicked Chinese voices. “How did this happen?”

  The mother kept her arms around her daughters, who shook and wailed against her sides. She was a fine-boned blonde woman in a pretty calico dress ripped open all the way down, blood over her cheeks and legs. The daughters’ dresses, too, had been torn, and their hair was matted with blood and their eyes glazed. The mother finally looked up and saw Shirley but didn’t seem to recognize that she was a foreigner, too.

  “We’ll take care of you,” Shirley said. “You’re safe now.” She reached over and closed the woman’s dress. “Where did this happen?”

  The woman’s voice was hardly a whisper. “Our home.”

  An old Chinese man, their number-one boy or cook, had fallen against one of the wooden wheels. He had been badly beaten, his shoulder dislocated, the arm hanging wrong.

  Shirley crouched beside him and asked, “Where are you from?” But his gaze did not rise from the ground. “The Anglican compound to the west of town? Is that it?” she asked.

  This must be the new British family that had arrived not long before. She and Caleb had planned to invite them to tea, but then he had gone on his expedition to the outlying churches and never come back. Shirley shouted for some Red Army soldiers to carry the foreigners into camp. As stretchers arrived at the wagon, Shirley stood and went for Captain Hsu’s mule but spotted a horse tied up nearby. She unhitched it, grabbed the reins, and mounted with ease. She dug her heels into the animal’s sides and galloped out of the camp, frantic to return home to her son.

  As clouds crossed the sun, she followed the winding trail down from the rocky ledge. After a half-hour descent, she was able to see far across the plains, her destination of the town and the mission a simple route through the flatlands. With some luck, she could be there in another hour or so. She pressed onward and tried not think about Charles and the others, although they were all she could think of.

  At a bend in the trail, a stream crossed, and Shirley felt the frothing horse balk. She should have noticed it was already worn out when she took it, probably having just arrived from some great distance. She decided to let the animal have a quick drink. She dismounted, and the horse hung its head over the bank. The branches of a weeping willow skimmed the water, dragging thick green tendrils of summer. The breeze was up, and the clouds had grown darker, rolling in from the mountains to the west. She needed to get home before the rain arrived. She needed to get home to be sure her boy was all right.

  As Shirley started to gather up the reins, she heard fast-approaching horses and saw that Japanese soldiers rode them. Before she had a chance to mount, the cock of a rifle sounded close behind her. The two soldiers began to shout as they jumped down from their horses. A moment later, she felt the point of a bayonet between her shoulder blades. She lifted her arms, stepped away from her horse, and stumbled in the direction of the stream. They knocked her to the ground, and a rock cut her knee. Her canvas shoes slipped off, and the Red Army cap toppled to the dirt.

  “I’m American,” she shouted. “Not Chinese. See?” She tried to point to the whiteness of her skin, hoping it could save her.

  With the butt of his rifle, the younger of the two soldiers rolled her onto her back. He reached down and yanked the gold chain Caleb had given her from around her neck and stuffed it into his pocket. The phoenix charm flew off and landed in the water with a quiet plop and was gone, never to rise again. The Japanese soldier pressed the wooden handle of his rifle between her legs and started to lift it to strik
e her. She had seen Chinese women with broken pelvises and now knew that this was how it was done.

  “I’m American,” she shouted again. “Not Chinese! Please. Don’t.”

  The second soldier watched impassively as the younger one paused to unhitch his belt. She hoped that the older one wasn’t in favor of the new barbarism of the Imperial Army. But as she tried to form the Japanese words to appeal to him, he surprised her by sweeping his bayonet past her face. A searing pain burned her cheek. Shirley covered the cut with her hand, and blood leaked over her fingers.

  The younger man leaned down and ripped open her tunic. She covered her exposed breasts as the two men laughed. She wanted to scream but had suddenly lost her voice. As the young one raised the rifle again to hit her, she opened her mouth and croaked out the words “General Shiga!” Hearing her own voice gave her courage, and she shouted again in English, “I am a friend of General Hayato Shiga. Do not harm me!”

  The older one gripped the boy’s arm.

  “I am his nurse!” She scrambled away from them in the dirt. “I am Nurse Carson. Have you not heard of me? I am special nurse to General Hayato Shiga. Hal. We call him Hal. Shiga. You know the name. Shiga!”

  She sensed that neither man understood anything she said except the general’s name. She repeated it again and climbed up from the dusty ground. She wrapped the torn tunic around herself and rose to her full height. She towered over them, and even though she continued to shake all over and her heart was beating frantically, she glared into their anxious faces.

  “General Shiga would not want you to touch a finger to me. General Shiga very angry if you harm American woman. General Shiga says no!”

  This last point seemed to register. They conferred. She tried to think of how to escape, but it was impossible. With the exposed trail across the open plains, the Japanese soldiers would simply shoot her in the back as she rode away. The older one took over then. He pushed her with the butt of his rifle toward her horse. She climbed on, and he took the reins as the soldiers mounted theirs. The three started off. Shirley glanced back at the spot where she had been attacked, her shoes and the Red Army cap left in the dust.