Yi-Hui Lin 林宜辉
During the Second Sino-Japan War, Japanese force had occupied the North-Eastern area of China by 1944. In its Operation Ichigo, Japanese troops, in April, launched further aggression to the South of China along the coastal railway. They encountered fierce resistances from the Chinese National Republic army. Dajishan (Mount Daji) was one of the strongholds of the Independent Twentieth Brigade of Chinese Army to stave off Japan force from Shanto – Jieyang areas. The Chinese fought bravely, and Japanese troop failed to break through Dajishan defense line for months until a Battalion commander, Guanghui Chen of Chinese army defected. Having obtained the information of land mine locations and layout of defense line provided by Chen, Japanese troop seized Dajishan stronghold. All Chinese soldiers succumbed to the Japanese force’s abrupt attack. After Dajishan’s falling, Jieyan would be in the grasp of Japanese troop within days. As the news of the fall of Dajishan stronghold arrived, my father, Yue Lin, was the principle of Jieyang Zhenli Middle School. He gave the order of immediate preparation of evacuation of his school.
On the last day of schooling, my father walked into a classroom. He announced to the students that for the last class of Jieyang Middle School, he would give a lecture of a new lesson “The Last Class: The Story of a Little Aisatian”. “Japanese troop will occupy our homeland in coming days. All classes will be suspended, the fate of our school is an unknown”, then my father started narrating passionately the article written by Alphonse Daudet: After France lost the war to German, Germany government forbade teaching French in schools of Alsace region. In his last French class, the French teacher, “Monsieur Hamel began to talk to us about the French language, saying that it was the most beautiful language in the world, the most clear, the most substantial; that we must always retain it among ourselves, and never forget it, because when a people falls into servitude,” “so long as it clings to its language, it is as if it held the key to its prison.”
The whole school was to evacuate to the west of Jieyang. When school students and faculty were marching in a trail into the depth of mountains, my father and his chief staff, named Hong-Shi Chen, and a few members of school staffs remained in campus. Valuable properties needed to be protected, by all means, from ravage of the Japanese invaders. For example, all glass panels were taken off windows of classrooms, wrapped, and sunk into the pond in the back yard of my father’s house. My father knew very well how this school came to exist through his father’s hardship. To found the Jieyang Zhenli Middle School, for every piece of bricks, a desk or a copy of textbooks, his father had his footprints all over from village to village, from town to town, begging people for their endowments.
However, my father did not make an arrangement to evacuate his family. According the memory from Uncle Chan, upon the immanent looming of Japanese troop, my father laid himself in his bed alone. He seemingly meditated, and being ready to be doomed together with his school. Uncle Chan was raged. He pounded a table and yelled at my father. Until then, my mother, my sister and brother were led by Uncle Chan in a hurry to leave the Jieyang downtown for my Aunt’s place. That was December 9, 1944 when Japanese troop marched into Jieyang downtown. My father attempted to escape by boat, but Japanese soldiers fired warning shots. So he abandoned his boat, dashing off for his life. My father took the trail, wanting to join his school, which was already camped in around 18 miles away in Baita (Ruilian Village). My father told me that, on his way to Baita, he was so exhausted, hungry, he sneaked into a tiny peasant’s house he spotted not far from the trail. He searched for foods. With no one at present, my father found some rice soup. Without hesitation, He devoured the sour and left. Finally he met his students and faculty at Baita. From then on, my father continued leading the school to move on in the mountain area. The school camp was relocated every now and then for its safety, but teaching classes continued.
One year later in August 15, 1945, Japanese government announced its surrender. Two months after this announcement, the surrender ceremony of Japanese troop in Jiayang was held in the sport field of Jieyang Middle School. My father returned to Jiayang upon learning the news of Japanese’s surrender. He witnessed the whole spectacle of the surrender ceremony. Rows and rows of ammunitions were lined up on the field. Japanese soldiers could not conceal their angers and inner defiance. My father returned to his house, he discovered that several his books of agriculture in Japanese print disappeared. To his surprise, a few copies of books in Japanese, also in agriculture, which he had never seen before, stood in his bookcase. My father wondered, was there an expert of agriculture among the Japanese intruders? Did this intruder want to tell me: I took some of your books, but I gave you a few in return. This is a deal of fair trade. I am just like you, a folk who loves growing crops and fruits. It was not my choice of being here for the bloodshed. Stay alive to read the books I left for you.
My father once said to me: A person should be content if he or she was able to make just one single impactful achievement during his or her life time. I believe, my father had achieved two impactful achievements in his life. Today, Jieyang Zhenli Middle School that he spent 15 years of his life as the principle has been expanded, unrecognizably, into the scale of thousands of students. Later, he devoted his 30 years’ life, from the start of scratch, to lead the Yangchuan Citrus Farm to become the largest citrus farm in Asia. My father set an example for younger generations: This is how we make our lives worthy.
Translation by Bai-Xi Lin, September 8 2021
PurenHealthInfo.com 