The end of the Pacific War brought liberation from the Japanese occupation, but it did not bring peace. Civil war between the Guomindang government and the Communist Party was already under way. And the departure of Japan brought new foreign occupations. The arrival of Soviet troops in Manchuria was a huge loss of territory to China; the Soviets transferred huge amounts of Japanese armaments, tanks and trucks to the Communist forces and then left. The arrival of US troops in major cities of China was less traumatic but lasted longer. The US presence created a major problem for the Kuomintang. It needed US help but had no control over its ally or the misbehaviour of GIs in China. There was a profound misunderstanding between the two sides: Americans saw themselves as liberators; Chinese people saw them as occupiers.
Most accounts of post-war China rely on government records or on memoirs of major figures. They deal with fighting in the civil war, with political polarization, with the Marshall Mission and his imposed ceasefire in Manchuria in 1946 when Communist forces were on the run. They tell us very little about the lives of ordinary Chinese. Chunmei Du’s wonderful book does so. The book takes us into the reactions of ordinary people to the Americans in China from late 1945 on. It reveals the quotidien, the daily lives of exhausted, battered Chinese civilians who had endured already eight years of war and escalating, crippling inflation. The author writes beautifully, in vivid prose, illustrated with even more vivid cartoons (man hua).
Two dominant factors worked on ordinary people. The first was the US dollar, the only currency that held value. In the accelerating inflation those with dollars were rich; some were corrupt. The second was the ubiquitous presence of GIs: large, fit young men, most completely ignorant of China, many sharing some level of anti-Asian racism from the US. They believed that the US had won the war, they expected to be welcomed as liberators, they wanted a good time. They were rich in a society in economic meltdown. The Chinese mood was almost diametrically opposite: guarded, anxious, even hostile. The Chinese press was free (for the last time); journalists and artists provided a stream of comment, much of it hostile, on Americans. Du has consulted an enormous range of publications, over 80 in Chinese, to understand how the US presence was perceived. Cartooning had developed strongly during the Resistance War, available to literate and illiterate audiences. The long-running Sanmao (“Three Hairs”) series, drawn by Zhang Leping, made the poor, battered Sanmao a symbol of resilience and doggedness, once against Japan, now against the US.
Journalists were on the look-out for GI misbehaviour. The worst possible example came on 24 December 1946. A young Peking University student, Shen Chong, was raped by a drunken marine. (It was horrible at the time and later that she was named.) News of the assault spread quickly. Within a few days, student demonstrations exploded. The cartoonist Ding Hao drew a graphic cartoon of the rape – and the feeble reaction of Chinese authorities. The rapist was convicted by US authorities, then pardoned. The rape of a student, of good family, not a “Jeep girl,” implied that all Chinese women were fair game.
Americans were in China to help – but could not work out how to do so. American officials were aware of popular hostility but unable to counter it. There was a huge language problem, well-illustrated in the book by the example of how to say “Halt!” in Chinese. The leakage of American goods, some labelled “US Government Property,” onto the streets created black markets, so open that “black” hardly seemed the right word. As the work of the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration (UNRRA) got going and supplies, largely from the US, poured into China, the availability of US goods expanded exponentially.
The popular hostility to the US was a nightmare for the Kuomintang, which was seen increasingly as the puppet of America. Americans with long experience of China, missionaries and educators, looked on in horror at the behaviour of some of their countrymen; they felt that America was losing the moral high ground. They were right. While the civil war ramped up, and relations between Washington and Nanjing became increasingly fraught, the war for popular support was being lost. The US was essential to the Kuomintang but was also dragging it down.
Chunmei Du has given us a fascinating, highly readable account of how the best intentions often go sideways and lead to the opposite outcome. The civil war was won on the battlefield. The loss of popular support for the Kuomintang, to which GIs made major contributions, was a huge boost for the Communists.
Reading this book took me back to my childhood, near three US bases in the UK. The Suffolk lanes were clogged with enormous cars, PXs were treasure houses available to the dubious people who fraternized with Americans. The English were poor, everything was rationed (see Postwar by Tony Judt). Our elders complained ceaselessly: Britain had won the war but lost the peace and was now occupied by Americans: “over paid, over sexed and over here.” Children were forbidden to talk to GIs. Friendly gestures were scorned. When I was seven, in Newmarket Hospital, a group of GIs came and gave each child a gigantic stuffed toy. The moment the ward doors closed the nurses confiscated them: English children were not allowed luxury toys. The undoubted goodwill of the GIs was distorted in the postwar gloom.
