Dajian shuffled onto the platform. Han Shu continued, "Actually, my question isn't that hard to understand. We were all in the Red Army once and know the answer in our hearts. Now, my friend, what's your name?"

"Bai Dajian."

"Tell me, Brother Bai, what is the Seventh Article of the Conduct Code of the Communist army?"

Dajian wheezed out, "Never surrender. Never let yourself be taken prisoner even at the cost of your life."

"Correct. Please say it loudly so that everybody can hear you."

Dajian repeated it to the audience.

"Good, you can go back now." Han Shu turned to us. "This is what I want to talk about today. You all know the Communists' discipline and understand what will happen to you as a returned POW. If you still mean to repatriate, you must prepare to go through denunciations, corporal punishment, prison terms, and executions once you're back in our homeland. Even if the Communists let you remain alive, I can assure you that you will be the dregs of their society for the rest of your lives. Brothers, you all know I'm speaking the truth, which some of you are too afraid to face. So I have to bring it up now. History has shown that the Communists always treat their enemies more leniently than their own people. Only by becoming their significant enemies can you survive decently. I'm your chief here and ought to be concerned about your safety. Once you have set foot in this camp, you'll never be able to exonerate yourselves from the blame the Communists will pin on you, because they believe you have brought shame on China. They'll punish you ruthlessly in order to maintain discipline within their ranks. You may protest and say to them, 'But I've always been loyal to our country!' They'll counter, 'Then why didn't you kill yourself to keep our honor intact?' What can you say? Admit you're a coward? You may have to do that. If you're really a brave man, you can take your life now, right here in front of us. Then they'll be informed of your heroic deed and will publicize your story, name you a Revolutionary Martyr, and turn you into a big hero to inspire others.

"Brothers, we're all human beings, made of the same flesh and blood, so we dread pain, hunger, and death. We're often driven by the instinct for self-preservation. Like every one of you, I miss home a lot and often dream of my parents and siblings, soaking my pillow with tears at night. But I don't want to be tortured and butchered like a worthless animal, so I've decided to leave for the Free World, to wander as a homeless man for the rest of my life. Our tragedy is that our homeland is no longer a place where we can live decently like human beings. Then why should we return? The truth is even if you're a Communist and act as one here, your former comrades back home no longer count you as a Communist. To them, you're all cowards and goners and shouldn't exist anymore. So bear in mind that your decisions tomorrow will be a matter of life or death to yourselves. Now, you're dismissed."

The audience remained motionless, transfixed by the bold speech, which no one had expected the reticent Han Shu to be capable of delivering. Liu Tai-an wielded his club and shouted at us, "Return to your tents now."

On our way back, both Dajian and I walked unsteadily, dazed by the brevity of the meeting and by Han Shu's words, which were like awls jabbing at our insides. Many men in our platoon turned downcast, knowing there was a good deal of truth in Chief Han's speech. Dajian and I felt at a loss how to wriggle out of the pro-Nationalists' clutches, and at the same time we dreaded the punishment that might lie in store for us on the mainland. As for the Communists in our platoon, they'd also been shaken by Han Shu's remarks, and some of them remained taciturn.

That afternoon, about five hundred of us would-be repatriates were gathered in the front yard. Around us stood over two hundred "policemen," each toting a club as thick as a baton, but twice as long. Liu Tai-an said to us, "Brothers, the ships sent by Generalissimo Chiang have arrived at the port to take us to Taiwan, where you will live a free and happy life. Tomorrow every one of you will have to decide where to go. I urge you to pick the right way and cut your ties to the Commies once and for all." Liu was a squarish man with a large gold incisor. When he spoke, he kept his left hand inserted in his belt while his right hand held a club.

Suddenly a voice boomed among us, "We want to go back to China. Taiwan is not our homeland."

"Who said that? Step out!" ordered the battalion chief. Seeing that nobody stirred, he added, "If you were fathered by a man, you ought to have the guts to meet me face to face."

To our astonishment, a bulky man, whose head was shaved bald, went to the front and admitted calmly, "I said that, and it's the truth."

"Lin Wushen, I fuck your ancestors! You say that again." Liu Tai-an was so furious that his square face darkened to the color of an eggplant. He seemed to have known the man long before. He thrust his fingers at Lin Wushen's face as though intending to poke out his eyes.

The large man, not intimidated, said, "My home is on the mainland. Why should I go to Taiwan? According to the Geneva Convention, every prisoner has his right to choose where to go. What's wrong about expressing my true intention? We're all prisoners and shouldn't interfere with each other's decisions."

Liu Tai-an lifted the front of his new jacket to show that this wasn't a piece of prison issue with P and W on its patch pockets or sleeves. He said, "I'm not war trash like you. I'm a free man, an officer appointed to command this battalion."

"Sure, after kissing some American ass," said Lin Wushen. A few men snickered.

Enraged, Liu Tai-an went up to him and ripped the left sleeve off Wushen's jacket, exposing his upper arm. On it was a tattoo, a drawing of the sun shedding a circle of rays – the Nationalist emblem. The chief said, "You've already expressed your anti-Communist attitude in this sign; why did you change your mind?"

"You had it needled on me. It doesn't show my true feelings. I want to go home."

"Damn you, if you really want to return to the mainland, you must leave this tattoo here."

"All right, I have no use for it anyhow."

To our surprise, Liu Tai-an seized Wushen's arm and raised the jade-handled dagger, saying, "For the last time, tell me where you want to go."

"To the mainland."

With two strokes Liu slashed off the flesh occupied by the black tattoo. "Ouch!" Wushen covered the cut with his hand and was biting his lips to choke his voice, his eyes aglow like tinder as tears gushed out. Blood dripped on the leg of his pants and on the sandy ground.

People gasped as a few guards went over, grabbed Wushens arms, and pulled him away.

"Take him to the classroom," ordered Liu Tai-an. "I'm not done with him yet."

At the education center they had already locked up more than twenty men, who were regarded as die-hard Commies who might undermine the screening and even instigate a riot. In fact, some of these men were not Communists; they were only determined to go home at any cost.

A commotion was going on at the front of the crowd. Having seen Wushen's blood, men began voicing their resentment. Emboldened by collective anger, some were spoiling for a fight. Liu Tai-an looked alarmed, but regained his composure and said to us, "Lin Wushen is a good example for you. If any of you want to go back to the mainland, then leave with us the patch of your skin bearing our words and our drawing. This is fair, isn't it?"

Both Dajian and I stood in the front row of the crowd. He was trembling and squeezed his eyes tight; tears trickled down his colorless cheek. I was petrified too and for a moment lost my speech. All I could do was tug his sleeve to remind him that he mustn't draw attention to himself. Looking sidelong at him, I saw a fat louse in his hair.