In Nanking

It was my trip to Nanking that started another new adventure for me.

Late that day I received the shocking news that all Americans would be evacuated from China. It had only been days before the State Department had assured us that we would remain in China. Not so.

With my bridegroom in Hankow I was not about to be sent anywhere else, and I insisted I would fly back into the interior to Hankow. The only way I could do this was to take the matter in my own hands.

That is precisely what I did, and I called a pilot friend I knew was stationed in Nanking. I explained in a spirit of desperation my problem. His response: "Fran, I am flying to the interior of China tomorrow to evacuate Americans. I will be flying over Hankow, but if you can be at the airport at 5 a.m. tomorrow you may fly with me."

I quickly packed my suitcase, but the main question remained. With chaos everywhere, how was I to get to the airport? Buses, trains and planes were booked with frantic men and women of all nationalities, and certainly no taxis were available.

A young Chinese jeep driver had assisted me during the day, and I decided to try something I had learned from my husband. I took a ten dollar bill from my billfold, quickly tearing the bill into two parts. I handed one-half to the driver, promising him I would give him the other half if he picked me up in time to get to the airport at 5 a.m. He gladly accepted and promised to return at 4 a.m.

I never closed my eyes that evening, as I was fearful of not awakening. Fortunately the driver appeared at the designated hour, and I found myself on the wildest ride of my life.

The Communists had already surrounded the city of Nanking, and the driver found his way around pedicabs, rickshaws and thousands of Chinese Nationalists trying to escape.

We arrived at the airport to find that my pilot friend was already warming up the engine with props moving restlessly.

In moments we were in the air, the C-47 climbing into the clouds. Of course, my friend could not understand why I was returning to Hankow, since undoubtedly we would be evacuated within a short time. However, he very graciously allowed me my romantic notions about returning to my husband. He radioed Harry to meet us at the airport, and as our plane landed I could see my husband waving a welcome.

After his embrace, his first warning was the dangers we were facing. In fact, he gently chided me for endangering my own life in returning to Hankow. He announced we would be evacuated at dawn the following day.

Since our furniture had not arrived, little time was needed for packing. There was no electricity, and our evening was spent in candlelight. There were no candles, so the No. 1 boy had improvised with a rice bowl of oil and a wick made from a scrap of fabric he scrounged from somewhere.

Harry and I had been aware of the fact that we were being watched for several weeks prior to the evacuation notice, and that particular evening we observed with some trepidation the shadowy figure we saw lurking in the darkness behind our apartment - especially in the "Chinese Godowns" (the alleys or "life in the raw" in this large city).

Perhaps to make me feel more at ease, Harry suggested we review all of the unusual and ludicrous things that had happened to us since our arrival in Hankow. And so it was we took turns describing in detail each event, interrupting one another only to laugh.

Certainly the prize story involved our first night in our apartment. We had just retired in the large bedroom which housed one bed - Harry in his new silk pajamas, and I in my sheer black night gown (one of the "necessities" I had included in the two suitcases I was allowed to take to China) - when we heard the door open. In the dim light we recognized the figure silhouetted against the shaded window. It was the No. 2 boy quietly moving toward the fireplace, his arms filled with firewood. In moments he had a blazing fire started, and simultaneously dozens of bats flew out of the fireplace.

In occupying Hankow the Japanese had stuffed all of the chimneys - their last gesture of defiance. I screamed, pulling the sheet high over my head, while Harry bounded out of bed and reached for the first thing he could find to combat the flying bats, while I remained under the sheets in gales of laughter. And that something he waved so dangerously as he stood on the sagging mattress was his tennis racket.

He had earlier teased me about my black nightgown, and I had responded with a playful mockery of his "so vital" tennis racket. I don't know about the value of the black nightie, but thank goodness for the tennis racket....