Nanking, Union of China (disputed by Republic of China)
April 26th, 1942
Afternoon?
PRIVATE Bill Hamilton, US Army, looked around him, dazed now that the adrenalin was wearing off. Twenty-two and now a veteran of his first battle, he tried to take stock of the situation around him. He was alive. He was with his platoon, taking refuge in a hall of some sort. Artie, Brewster, Davis and Nagler made it, and so did Sarge. Hutchison, Ward and O'Malley weren't so lucky. Ward bled out after a Nationalist with a submachine gun got him. Hutch got done by a Nationalist sniper. Mick O'Malley was the one that hurt the most. He got killed by an artillery shell- an American shell- falling short. Mick talked too loudly and too often, and his jokes were godawful. He was a lousy shot, and couldn't make coffee worth a damn, but for Bill, all of that just made Mick's absence even more obvious.
Bill's eyes stung. His ears were ringing. His ass hurt from being bounced around in a truck ride from Shanghai, and falling after tripping on some rubble. He wanted a cold beer and some Chinese food, but Chinese like they made it at Yan's back at home in San Francisco. You couldn't get Egg Foo Young in China, imagine that!
All Bill could think was... "How did this happen? How did I get here?" The events of the last few months played back in his mind in bits and pieces, searching for the why.
The answer began back in San Francisco.
There, Bill had done everything normally, up until now. Graduated high school. Got a good job as a freight handler, loading boxcars for the Santa Fe. Even had a girl back home, who he would give a ring to when all this was over. Why even sign up? It would have been easy enough to get out of it, being a railroad man.
There was no one thing behind the decision, it was more like a few different things at once. When all your friends are signing up, it's hard not to. He was also a patriotic American, a real nephew of Uncle Sam, just like his dad who was a Doughboy in the last war. No son of Steve Hamilton was a coward, and since he was the elder Hamilton's only son -it wasn't like his two sisters could go over- it fell to him. He wasn't really sure what fighting in China had to do with bringing Hitler to his knees, but it was still better than fighting them over here. To make it even more complicated, there was a civil war going on in China, and some of them were with us, and some of them sided with Hitler.
The war left its mark on San Francisco as well. Every Chinese restaurant and laundry seemed to display crossed American and Union of China flags in the window, and prominently displayed photographs of Roosevelt and Wu Peifu side-by-side. Posters portrayed a powerful and noble Wu as the Chinese Washington, like the one drawn like Washington's Crossing, where it was Wu in the bow of the boat, holding a Unionist flag. Chiang was usually portrayed as a small, bitter figure, sometimes running away from Uncle Sam, or in one particularly memorable poster, as a Shih-Tzu sitting on Hitler's lap.
Bill also remembered a propaganda cartoon playing before a movie he saw with his girl; it was called "It Can't Happen Here!" . It was a Disney production, done in the cartoony style one would expect, but the subject matter was clearly serious. It was about how totalitarianism takes root in countries like Germany, and how while the American Constitution and system of government can prevent it from taking root over here, Americans still have to notice the signs and stop it in its tracks. It wouldn't just go away either. It had to be stopped in its tracks. The Nationalist Chinese killed Americans and siezed American property, so he had to be stopped now.
Was that why? It was part of it, sure, but it wasn't any one thing that Bill could put his finger on, try as he might.
The medical exam and induction were straightforward, boot camp was a blur. Like so many others, Bill was an infantryman, armed with his wits and his rifle. He boarded a troopship with thousands, had to be thousands of others, and set sail for Shanghai. The food wasn't the great, and the loudmouth Irish-American Mick O'Malley next to him got on his nerves, but the prospect of seeing some action got him through it.
Shanghai was a world apart. It had the atmosphere of an armed camp as well as a bustling city, both mashed together and overlaid on top of one another. It was bright, and loud and there were always fifteen things going on at once. It wasn't just Chinese and other Americans like him, there were other nationalities too. There were Brits, Frenchmen, Canadians, Australians, Japanese, and even some Brazilians that arrived after he did. When you were on liberty, you could explore the city before heading back to the American barracks by the docks.
The International Settlement looked almost like parts of European or American cities lifted into another city, while the Chinese neighbourhoods were crowded and had a life of their own. Bill's first surprise was that Chinese food in China is very different than Chinese food back home- no candy-sweet orange ginger chicken was to be found here.
The neighbourhood that seemed the most foreign to Bill was Japantown. Sarge quietly warned the boys that if they were going to go out looking for a good time while on leave, not only did the Army discourage it, Japantown was not the place to go looking for it. Bill remembered walking through it with his buddies Artie Thatcher and Edmond Brewster (you never called him by his first name, he hated it). In contrast to much of the rest of Shanghai, Japantown was orderly, almost too orderly. They were building a streetcar line, and one soldier was directing traffic, while another stood at attention on the corner. Turning the corner, the three American soldiers found themselves walking towards a sidewalk café, where three IJA officers were seated, waiting for tea. They were all in knee-high boots, close-fitting breeches, high-collared tunics, high-crowned forage caps and white gloves, making them look so different than the soldiers they saw earlier. One of them took his white gloves off to read a newspaper, while the other two talked. Shit, thought Bill. How many paces... no...better just stop and salute now. He and Brewster saluted, and so did Artie after being elbowed. To their great surprise, the Japanese officers arose and returned the salute, white gloves on. It was the strangest, most awkward experience, and they left in a hurry.
Next was the battle. The waiting. The truck ride in the dark. The pop and crackle of rifle fire. The firefight with the Nationalists. The anger at discovering that Nationalist aligned Triads were putting on Union Star armbands to blend in. The second firefight, and falling over the smashed wall, or building or whatever. And now here.
So this was war, thought Bill Hamilton.
