I THINK IT WAS IN February that the first group of foreigners, apart from those sent to Haiphong Road or Bridge House, were ordered to report, in the course of a few days, to be interned. Amongst those called up in this group was our friend who had helped John get home. We all turned in and helped him pack and get ready; but it was rather a sad time. Dear Mr. M., of the Scottish Bible Society, was also called up at this time. He and I had taken Hebrew lessons together during the earlier months of the war, while business was so bad. We had an excellent teacher, one of the Jewish Refugees, a Hebrew teacher from Berlin. It was not long until Miss Marsh and Miss Dear had their call to leave. There were various camps, and nobody knew where they might be sent, and whether friends and families would be together. Mr. M. and Mr. X.'s friend had been sent across the river to Pootung. We had accompanied them down to the armories where they had to gather, each carrying his own personal baggage. Mr. X.'s friend was so weighed down that he could not manage, and I had to take one bag, and repack it in Red Cross parcels and send it to him that way. Miss Marsh and Miss Dear were ordered to Yangchow, a city perhaps 200 miles north-west of Shanghai, on the Grand Canal. We heard there were to be three camps in that city, in various mission premises. Each person was ordered to buy, or bring a folding chair, a single bed, and in all not more than four pieces of baggage, besides what they carried. We helped pack up their boxes and beds, hoping that they might be preserved from looting en route. They left from the Cathedral grounds and once again we accompanied them. This time to the launch for the steamer that was taking them to Chinkiang, where they must change into small boats for the canal.
It was during those dark days that our old carpenter came over to say goodbye. He had left us a few months before, tempted away by an offer of big wages; but he was an old man now, and a first class worker, and he could not turn the work out fast enough, and they soon let him go. We could not take him back, with the Internment Camp ahead, and the poor old man was left at loose ends. His wife was a masterful woman who had always ruled the home. He had been the only Christian in it for many years, and she had led him a sorry life. He stayed and talked and told me his troubles. I tried to comfort him by pointing him upwards; and then I accompanied him out to the gate. We both realized it would be the last time we would meet down here, and he had given me loving, faithful service for nearly twenty years. He had been a slave of opium, but the Savior had redeemed him; and as we stood at the gate talking, both unwilling to part, he said to me: "O Mr. Lee, if only the Lord would take me Home now. I have nothing more to live for down here, and I just want to go Home!" How little I expected that within a week, before we even started for camp, "The little Lao Baan", as we always called him, would have his wish granted, and go to the Home he loved. What a change from the Shanghai home, a little old garage with a mud floor, crowded so that there was not an inch of room anywhere. What a change, the song of the Lamb instead of the scolding, cursing, fighting that went on around him all the time. What a change, to be loved and wanted, instead of hated and despised. I sometimes wonder if the poor of China who have had so little down here, may not joy more in the joys of the glory than we who have had so much more. It was Jimmie (you will hear of him later) who came to me, saying, "Mr. Lee, you must not go to the Lao Baan's funeral, and you must not help with the expense; his wife is having an idol funeral." Jimmie was right, and so we had not the opportunity of showing the last marks of love down here: but all will be righted There.
These were hectic days. A Chinese firm was trying to get possession of the premises occupied by our main shop; and promised to arrange to get all our stock packed in cases, and stored in a warehouse until after the war. This sounded very attractive, and day after day was spent trying to get this arranged. At the same time friends who were leaving for Internment Camps would beg for assistance, as it meant breaking up the homes, packing everything one possessed, and trying in desperation to get these things scattered amongst Chinese or neutral friends. In the spare moments from these things, we tried to dismantle our own house. We had not much of value, but the children had gone home and left their possessions behind, and all these had to be sorted and packed. Then we had books, books, books and more books. We valued some of these very much; and they all had to be sorted over. A very earnest Chinese Christian man with whom we had been working on the translation of the New Testament, suggested that books from various Christians be sent to him, and he would make them into a library of Christian books for Christian young men, and these could be returned if desired later on. The British Residents' Association was arranging for books to be collected for libraries for the various camps, and we collected several hundred from the shop and the house for this purpose.
We stored many of the books up under the roof, behind a large brick chimney that ran through one side of this attic space. There was no floor, and only a tiny opening in the ceiling through which one could crawl. From this opening nothing behind the chimney could be seen, so we hoped that these things might be safe. The danger from fire was ever present, and we knew that if bombs fell nearby, the poor old house would probably collapse; but these things could be committed to our Father above, and we knew that "Except the Lord keep the city the watchman waketh but in vain." As there was no floor, we had to build one to hold our things, but we had enough old boards to do this. All our pictures (and we had many), had to be taken down, taken out of their frames, and packed, and the glass and frames packed in the attic. The pictures, and other things, which we specially valued, we packed in several trunks, and sent to a neutral Consulate friend's house; and a few weeks later the Japanese seized the house, and all were lost. We still have the empty frames for those valued pictures! All sorts of odds and ends about the house followed to our "hiding-hole" up under the roof. Many of our books went up there, and I brought most of our paper shells, the records of our publications, from the godown to this same hiding-hole. Many of our zinc and copper blocks for our printing were put away there, until I began to wonder if the poor old house would stand the strain. Our friend, Mr. M. W., who was rather at loose ends, living in the Camp at Columbia Club, often used to come over and give a helping hand. On top of all we laid a pretty, wooden text that John had carved for me: "Able to keep".
We packed case after case of books, hoping that a place for them could be found somewhere. The evenings were usually spent sitting by the grate in our bedroom sorting and burning old records and correspondence. I will never forget those days.
The kindness of our Chinese friends was unspeakable. One evening one of them came over to say farewell. He noticed I had no winter overcoat (mine had been stolen), and immediately he took off his own coat, and insisted I should take it. A day or two later he brought us three foreign-made folding chairs that he had purchased from ships in port. He had made his business buying and selling on board foreign ships. But perhaps the greatest kindness of all that he showed us was an offer to store all our books and other things about which we were in despair. Not only did he offer to arrange for the storage, but he himself came with trucks and coolies, personally saw to the loading, went with them through the streets to the French Concession, getting them past police and guards, and piled everything up in a large empty warehouse, in which a friend of his was interested. He himself insisted on paying all expenses, and the night before we left he brought us over for a gift, a Thousand Japanese Dollars. May the One who does not forget a cup of cold water given in His Name reward this dear man!
One of our former employees who had come to us as a boy just out of school, and of whom I was exceedingly fond, on two occasions brought us quite large sums of money. He now held quite a good post, and these were in return for what he had taken while he was in our employ. I knew he had been in the habit of doing this, and he knew that I knew. Indeed once I had laid a trap for him, and had a very hard time saving him from gaol. It is very sweet to see such "fruits of repentance" and was no little cheer at such a time, but one longs still more for "repentance towards God". One of our last evenings was spent with him and his young wife at a sumptuous Chinese feast, which ended by them supplying cakes for Miss Dear, who was leaving next day for Camp.
We had a great friend, Miss M. L., who with her friend, Miss T., had put the entire Bible into Phonetic Script, for the uneducated. Even an utterly illiterate person who speaks Chinese can learn to read the Bible by this means in a few weeks. These two ladies had prepared it all; they had had the special type made for it; (we had made it in our printing shop); they had raised the funds for printing; they had read all the proofs, and they had been the backbone of spreading the knowledge of Phonetics. Miss T. had tuberculosis of the eyes, and had to remain in a darkened room. Miss L. was such an invalid, that she was really not fit for anything, but to lie all day on a couch. Under most circumstances ladies in their position would have had a couple of nurses to look after them, and would feel they had done well to endure their trials, without accomplishing anything more. These two ladies did more than most able-bodied men, not to speak of their influence that spread far and wide over China.
Miss L. sent for me to ask if I would arrange to store some of her books and pamphlets. I was at that time quite in despair over my own books and pamphlets, but I could not refuse such a friend. I offered to put them in the room being used for our chicken house. I well knew they would bring a guard of angels with them to encamp round about them, so I was not over-anxious: and they lay there safely all through the troubles.
That visit with Miss L. was a great cheer and help to me. Instead of finding her on a couch where she ought to have been, I found her up and hard at work sorting and packing, to be ready to go into Camp. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," she said to me, "it's an opportunity that the angels must envy. We have been praying for years for the unconverted foreigners in Shanghai, but we never can get a chance to get near them, and now the Lord is shutting them up with us, where they cannot get away. I do hope that I may be sent into Camp.”
This dear soldier of Jesus Christ was the only one I can recall who was just running over with eagerness for the opportunities offered by a Concentration Camp. She worked so hard to be ready to go, that she was too ill to be sent until much later in the war. Before I left she gave me a verse, Ezek. 1:11Now it came to pass in the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, in the fifth day of the month, as I was among the captives by the river of Chebar, that the heavens were opened, and I saw visions of God. (Ezekiel 1:1), to take to camp with me: "As I was among the captives... the Heavens were opened, and I saw visions of God." How many times during the next two and a half years did those words come to my mind, as I gazed at the gray old walls that shut us in, the gates locked and barred, the sentry boxes, the machine-gun emplacements, and the sentries themselves. I could look up, through an opened heaven, and there was not a thing between me and the Lord. Like Paul, we were "prisoners of Jesus Christ"-not of the Japanese. You will understand why I am using part of this verse for the title of this book.
We were sitting at lunch one day about the end of the first week in March, when the telephone rang. I remarked to my wife, "It's our call to go into Camp," and sure enough it was. "Come down and register for the Civil Assembly Center," for they did not call them Internment or Concentration Camps. We had no idea where we might be sent, but had fond hopes that it might be the Camp where Miss Dear had been sent. Our orders were to be ready to leave March 15th. (Another of God's mercies, for most people had not so long a time of warning), and we were to go to Yangchow, the city to which Miss Dear had gone: would we be in the same camp?
Those days were hectic beyond all description, but in the midst of them a heavier blow fell than any we had had so far. In a little junk shop only a few doors from our house there was found a great pile of back numbers of "The Trumpeter" that had been stolen and sold for old paper. Who had done it? It was not hard to trace. Our head man, whom I had kept on when everybody else, but one, had to be let go, the leading brother in the meeting, the one in whose hands I had arranged to leave all the Book Room affairs, the one with whom I had worked so closely for more than ten years, the one who was like a son to me,-he was the one who had done this shameful deed; nor was this all, he had considerably more of some of our most costly stock secreted and ready to sell. It nearly broke my heart. How those words came to my mind, "Mine own familiar friend in whom I trusted." I learned to enter, in a very small measure, as I had never done before, into one of the special sorrows of The Man of Sorrows.
The heavy baggage had to be ready and sent off the day before we were to leave. Every trunk we possessed that was any good had been given to the children when they went home, and now trunks were almost impossible to get. We worked feverishly; I got one old trunk all packed and ready to go; I turned it over to rope it, and the whole bottom fell out. We had no other trunk to take its place, and no money to buy another, nor was there time to send it to be repaired. The only thing to do was to unpack, and turn in and repair it myself: precious moments that should have gone to packing used for this! And then came the beds; we were short of rope, and used up all the odd bits we could find, and then old, worn out electric wire. We had one bed already packed in a bundle with mosquito net poles, a folding canvas chair, etc.; but there were two single iron beds, three folding chairs, a folding table, mattresses and Chinese wadded quilts, etc., etc., etc., all to be packed into one huge bundle. We had old canvas curtains from the verandah in which to wrap it all. It took us till two in the morning to get it all finished; and with a sigh of relief I turned it up on its side ready to leave in the morning. That last turn was too much for it, and chairs and table, bed ends and quilts, all just literally dropped through the bed spring that we had counted on making a solid bottom to our bundle. We felt as if we could sit down and cry. My sister suggested that if we used a Chinese bed-bottom (just a wooden frame with cane or bamboo strips woven across it), that would be much lighter, and we could rest it on two trunks when we got to camp. This seemed a good idea, and as we had one fitted over the top of a bath, to make Hope's bed when she was a child, we used it, and took out one of the steel bed-springs, and two bed-ends of those we had packed. Somewhat after three in the morning we got the new package made up, and thankfully lay down for a little sleep.
A few days before we left, we were able to negotiate an order on Canada for $500, getting about $13,000 of Japanese money in place of it. We left this money with our good friends with whom we had worked so long on the New Testament. They were both good business men. The money was dropping fast at this time, and they used the cash to buy goods of some kind or other, and as money was needed to care for the shop, the house, or the Chinese dependents left behind, our friends kindly sold some goods and provided the needed funds. This was a great comfort to us, as dear Mr. Chung Chan Lai's widow was remaining behind with her children to watch the house. Mr.— was at the other end of the Compound, living upstairs in the warehouse, and so watched it. His wife had a job with the Government Police, and that helped in various ways, even though it meant she was often absent: but some of the children were generally about the place all day long; and actually on the one hand we had very little of any value to the neighbors to steal; and on the other, living in "The Badlands" as we did, with our house off the beaten track, well hidden, on one side by a great bristle factory, on another by a Chinese tannery, on a third by a big rubber shoe factory, and all between by straw huts; the Japanese were not as much attracted to us and our district, as to most other parts of Shanghai. I might remark in passing, it depended which way the wind blew, as to what particular odor we might enjoy from our neighbors.
We had been warned to take into camp everything we could in the way of foodstuffs. With so many thousands of persons all buying quantities of food, especially canned goods, it became almost impossible to procure anything that was of any real use: and the prices were fantastic. For this reason we decided not to try and buy canned goods, but to stick to more foundation foods. Sugar was strictly rationed, but the rationing was carried out on the basis of Municipal Property Tax Receipts. Each Tax Receipt allowed so many pounds of sugar. We held four receipts, covering the four properties on which we paid rent. These gave us a very large ration of sugar, far more than we could use, and we often had the pleasure of supplying friends in need. A day or so before leaving for camp, I called on an old friend in the wholesale grocery trade to see if he could give me some things we needed. He was unable to do so, but remarked: "There is a ration of sugar due today, and you must take up your allowance." I was so busy and tired, I was tempted to let it go, but he insisted, and sent one of his men to guide me to the particular spot where it was that day being given out. I got a large allowance, but had only my bicycle with me. It was not well wrapped, and before I got very far along Peking Road I found I was leaving a little trail of sugar behind me. I expected there would be a riot, but nobody seemed to notice for some unaccountable reason, and I managed to patch it up, and get it safely home. We did this up in several parcels and arranged for a lot of it to be sent to us through the Red Cross. Had it arrived, we would have been well off for sugar. Alas, much of it was stolen en route, or from our trunks after arrival. We also bought several sides of bacon, as we heard we should be allowed to do our own cooking. This was a sad delusion, and I had a great time cooking that bacon over little bonfires out near the incinerator. This however was quickly prohibited. I felt my bacon must be cooked, and decided to risk trying it. We would fry up a whole side at once, putting the hot slices in a tin, and then pouring the fat over them. In this way we could eat them cold whenever we wished. I had just got nicely started, and had some delicious looking slices of bacon ready for the tin when a Japanese guard arrived on the scene. The bacon was smelling perfectly delicious, so I gave him a sweet smile, and asked him if he would like a bit. He could not resist, and I got my side of bacon finished in peace. We also bought shelled peanuts, and as we packed we dropped shelled peanuts into every crack and cranny of our trunks. It made them unusually heavy, for there was no waste space, but it gave us a lot of good food at a very low price. My wife had a good many bottles of jam and canned fruit. We knew how good they would taste in camp, but how were we to get them there? We finally packed them in our daughter-in-law's baby-bath, shelled peanuts all around and between them, and they traveled up well. We also brought several pounds of cheese, and husbanded it with such care that it was very high before it was finished. We were eating in the dining room at that time, and our friends had a good deal to say about our cheese. Then one of them told us a story about a friend in his room. A lady with a boy of about ten years of age lived above them. The lady's room got such a horrid smell that she said to her small boy: "You must take your shoes off and change your socks." He obediently did this, but no improvement. "Put those shoes and socks outside the window. I cannot stand the smell." So the little lad obediently put them out of the window, but the smell kept up. "Go and wash your feet." His feet were washed and still the room smelt as before. Then she discovered that a gentleman in the room below had a piece of cheese that he was cherishing.
The baby-bath that we had brought up to carry the glass fruit jars proved of inestimable value for washing clothes, and it was not often out of use. Friends would speak ahead for the loan of it for days to come. Another of the most useful things we brought was a stone pestle and mortar. The Chinese make these and sell them on the street; they use them for making rice flour or any kind of small grinding. This had been our son Christopher's last present to his mother, and she could not bear to leave it behind, though I could not see how we could pack it. However, it was finally pushed into a great new dunnage bag we had had made, and it arrived safely. I think everybody in camp used to borrow that stone pestle. It was hardly ever at home. Each person, at one time, had an allowance of pepper seeds, unground, from the Red Cross. I suppose nearly all those seeds were ground in that mortar. It would also make peanut butter, and some of the Jews used it for the most delicious confection of ground almonds that they made for certain feast days: and they usually returned some of the confection with the stone.
Our last free Sunday came, and the last time we would have the privilege of remembering the Lord for a long time to come-how long? We had no idea. I think our friends felt it even more keenly than we ourselves. They gathered that night with us for supper. Mlle. J., our Swiss friend, had come down from Nanking especially to say goodbye. Miss Y., a young Chinese lady, who had been a good and true friend, and her brother T. were there, and several of the Chinese students who had lived next us, came for a last farewell. Mlle. B., a dear old French Christian lady was there, and our friend from the Japanese Navy. It was a strange company, but all drawn together by the bonds of love, and nearly all united into that one body where there is neither Jew nor Greek, but where we are all one in Christ Jesus.