There was no response. I sat next to Wanren, fascinated by the rhythmic clatter of a typewriter in a room down the hall. In the opposite corner of the lounge stood a cluster of dwarf bamboos set in an earthen pot. Beside the plant was a coffeemaker on a metal desk, gurgling staccato. The door opened and Colonel Kelly stepped in, but none of us stood up, whereas Captain Larsen and Interpreter Peng both sprang to their feet. Anger distorted Larsen's face.

The colonel stopped in front of us, a pistol on his brass-studded belt over which hung his beer belly. He bunched up his lips and said to us, "I have only twenty minutes, so just tell me why you started the hunger strike."

We had figured out our demands beforehand, which Chaolin began to present to him. As Chaoli's interpreter, I wondered if I should stand up, but decided not to, seeing that he remained seated. Then Colonel Kelly motioned for me to stop because he wanted Peng to do the translation. This was all the better for me.

Chaolin told Kelly that we had two demands: first, Captain Larsen must release our comrades; second, the camp authorities must investigate the death of Wenfu and punish the murderers. To our surprise, Kelly smiled and said, "The three prisoners will be sent back. There's no reason for us to keep them. Actually they may be already on their way back to the compound." He fixed a stare on Larsen as though annoyed by his inability to handle us by himself. Then he resumed, "But the investigation of the death will take time, and we cannot reach any conclusion before the process is complete, so I can't promise you what I'm going to do."

"Do you agree to investigate or not?" challenged Chaolin.

"Of course I do. I'll have to write a report to my higher-ups on this case as well, so I'm going to look into it."

"Will you let us know the result of the investigation?"

"That's something we can talk about."

"We want the murderers punished."

"Let's not jump the gun, all right? What you should do now is call off the hunger strike."

"But we want you to promise you'll investigate the murder case and punish the guilty party."

"Like I said, I'm going to look into it and if somebody's guilty, we'll handle him accordingly. Now, you must stop starving yourselves."

"Are you going to share the result of the investigation with us or not?"

"I shall do that only if you end the hunger strike."

"Is this a promise?"

"Yes."

"In that case our kitchens will cook again."

"When?"

"Today."

"Good, I'm pleased to hear that."

I didn't expect the dialogue to be so reasonable. Somehow Chaolin and the other chiefs didn't raise more questions. They should have asked the colonel approximately how long it would take him to finish the investigation and when we would hear from him, just as Kelly had pressed Chaolin for the exact time the hunger strike would be called off. I didn't remind them of this negligence because I wanted the crisis to end as soon as possible.

Before we left, the colonel even shook Chaolin's hand as though they had known each other for years. I was surprised by his cordiality, which made Chaolin so uncomfortable that he grinned at us tightly.

The three detained men had been returned while Wanren and I were away at the guards' headquarters. One had suffered a smashed hand and the other two had swollen faces. Although we agreed to eat dinner that day, that same evening we again shouted "Kill!" when Larsen dismissed us at the end of the head count. Crimson-faced, he got hold of Wanren and said, "Will you please stop this silly trick?" I translated the question.

Our chief answered, "You beat up my men and we must get even."

Larsen put on an innocent look and said, "I didn't touch them, I swear. It was those guys at the central office who mishandled them. I protested to them already and said they just made my job more difficult. Will you stop your men from shouting that silly word?"

His explanation seemed convincing to Wanren, who had heard from the three injured fellows that some strange Americans had whacked them. Slow of words, Wanren didn't counter with the fact that it had been Larsen who ordered their arrest. Instead, he argued, "We have freedom of speech, don't we? We've done nothing wrong."

I translated this a little differently, saying, "Captain, you shouldn't get annoyed. In our army we often use the word 'kill' as an exclamation, like 'hurray' or 'whoopee.' You wouldn't make us give up our language, would you?"

"That's not what I meant."

"You respect freedom of speech, don't you?"

"Sure we do."

"So no hard feelings."

He sighed, shaking his lumpy chin. From then on we would continue to shout "Kill!" whenever Larsen conducted the head count, and he would turn a deaf ear to it.

Colonel Kelly didn't keep his promise. We never heard from him about the result of the investigation, which perhaps hadn't taken place, and we knew for a fact that nobody was punished for the death of Wenfu. Wenfu hadn't had any close friend among the prisoners, so nobody mentioned him again.

27. A TALK WITH CAPTAIN LARSEN

One morning in early December Wanren came back from the guardhouse, holding a paper bag that contained a dozen cans of smoked sausages. At the sight of the cans the men at our battalion headquarters all got excited. Wanren told us, "Larsen gave me these."

"Why was he so generous today?" I said.

"I have no clue. He asked me to come into his office and then he let me take these cans."

This was bizarre. "He didn't want you to do anything else?"

"Nothing but a signature."

"For what?"

"For the cans."

His answer sounded odd, but I didn't question him further. The men around were disappointed that our chief wouldn't open a can of sausages for everybody to try. Instead, Wanren declared he would give the cans to the wounded men who hadn't recovered yet. When everybody had turned away, I said to him, "I have a question for you, chief, but it might offend you."

"Fire away. You know I don't like men who keep their opinions to themselves."

"All right then, on what kind of paper did Larsen have you sign your name?"

"A large writing pad."

"Was it blank?"

"No, there were some words on it."

"What did they say?"

"I have no idea. Probably a record of how he distributed the food."

"Are you positive about that?"

"No, I'm not. It could be a receipt too."

"Don't you think he might have made you sign an important document?"

He blushed, his lips quivering. "Well, he was smiling all the while, very friendly. To be honest, that thought never crossed my mind."

"He might have wanted your signature on something that he can use against us."

"It didn't look that serious. Every word was handwritten on a piece of lined paper."

"To the Americans as long as your signature appears on paper, it will be good legally. They don't use a personal seal like us."

"Well, what should we do now?" He looked a bit flustered, twitching his nose.

He was slow-witted, an able warrior but not an exceptional leader. How could the enemy take him in so easily? I was quite sure that the signature was intended for something else. Captain Larsen must have sensed Wanren's inadequacy, so he dealt with him exclusively. Still, I felt for Wanren, who obviously had been so eager to get the sausages for the wounded men that he hadn't thought twice about putting his name down.

For the whole afternoon he and I considered what to do. Should we discuss this matter among the officers in our battalion? Or should we report it to Commissar Pei and request instructions? Or should we just go ahead and make amends by ourselves?

Wanren, at a loss, said we probably should let Chaolin and Commissar Pei know right away I didn't feel it was a wise idea. "Look," I said, "don't you think they may take you to task? Besides, we're not clear what Larsen has been hatching exactly."