Chinese Literature

approach nearer than some ten yards. “Hallo there! This is Commandant Shen speaking! Commandant Shen from the Service Corps. I’ve come here specially to give someone a treat!” He was always fond of a joking manner, but this time he was particularly jovial. I took it that he wanted to reassure the workers. I didn’t expect the reaction though. One of them took it perfectly seriously, and asked, “Who’s going to be given a treat?”

“Well, I ask you, who should get one but these five U.S. beauties? I have a treat in store for them, but they won’t budge. What shall we do about it? We'll have to shift them! Yes, we’ll have to shift these sons of bitches ourselves.”

Just then I heard some one baw! out at the top of his voice, ““Comrades! That’s a commandant, one of our leading comrades. ... We mustn’t let him get hurt! We must protect our leading comrades!”

This piercing cry cut through all other sounds like a whip. I could hear a white-hot passion beating in it, roused now by Commandant Shen’s courage, but speaking also of the traditions of our people’s army and the courage of the soldiers who, wounded, still refuse to leave the lines if they can stand. ... I turned to see the speaker; it was a wounded soldier, the soldier I had seen struggle down from the nurse’s back. I could not see his features in the wavering light, but could make out a tall shape limping forward, with a crutch under his right arm, hobbling as fast as he could, as though he had a race to win. The other watchers did not guess his intent, and gave him passage. By the time they realized he was making for the delayed action bombs, it was too late for them to stop him. When he got to Commandant Shen, he shifted his crutch to the other arm, and stood upright, balancing on his left leg. It looked as though his right leg had been crippled, but that he still had a good deal of strength in the rest of his body. He did not speak again, and Commandant Shen could not get out a word, so rapid were his movements, as he reached up, grabbed Shen’s arm, and with a pull got him down off the bomb. Then with a firm hand, he butted him well away, turned, and tried to scramble up on the bomb himself. With only one good leg, however, he couldn’t manage it, so he just sat on it, as calmly as a traveller who sits down on a wayside bench to have a breather.

The workers began to come nearer, and he said matter-of-factly, “It’s all right. You can handle them. I know their little ways—" stooping and putting his ear against his bomb—‘‘There’ll be some indication before it goes off. Tl listen to it, and tell you directly there’s any danger. There'll be plenty of time for you to get away.”

The workers were emboldened by this, and those nearest came closer, while the hesitant ones further off gathered up courage. They began to get at the bombs, and rope them up so that they could drag them away, while the smaller ones were shifted bodily. They began to jest to one another. “What guests to have, to be sure! It’s all we can do