江山風雨Those Stormy Years of My Homeland

Contents目錄目录 (58)

1. 懷念那段山河蹂躪 國難未斷的日子 (代序)
2. 第一章：重慶邊城 故事多
3. 第1節：生逢抗戰 艱苦時
4. 第2節：初識唐詩 憶外婆
5. 第3節：童年生活 樂趣多
6. 第4節：滑竿坐轎 順口溜
7. 第5節：鬼影悚悚 七保岩
8. 第6節：處置逃兵 有爭議
9. 第7節：虛報兵員 吃空缺
10. 第8節：捉襟見肘 遇鄉親
11. 第9節：舉國歡騰 慶勝利
12. 第二章：錦繡河山 復元路
13. 第10節：恩施高原 崎嶇行
14. 第11節：湘西邊城 苗家寨
15. 第12節：酉水河上 拉縴行
16. 第13節：邂逅沅江 初春時
17. 第14節：世間豈有 桃花源
18. 第15節：浩瀚無垠 洞庭湖
19. 第16節：銜山面水 岳陽樓
20. 第17節：赤壁遙想 古戰場
21. 第18節：昔人已乘 黃鶴去
22. 第19節：黃岡赤壁 懷古情
23. 第20節：欲識廬山 真面目
24. 第21節：駭浪天浮 采石磯
25. 第22節：鷄鳴鍾山 遍秦淮
26. 第23節：回首浦口 別時情
27. 第24節：一代忠𩆜 萬古存
28. 第25節：兒女才是 心中寶
29. 第26節：十里洋場 大上海
30. 第27節：綽約多姿 憶江南
31. 第三章：數番風雨 飄搖行
32. 第28節：乘風破浪 奔遼原
33. 第29節：遣俘交接 動人心
34. 第30節：大豆高梁 遍地香
35. 第31節：杏花櫻花 齊開放
36. 第32節：以怨報德 無悔意
37. 第33節：滿清陪都 史蹟多
38. 第34節：兄弟鬩牆 內戰起
39. 第35節：飛越江山 憶故人
40. 第36節：萬般風情 在青島
41. 第37節：上海重逢 兩樣情
42. 第38節：風雨飄搖 辭鄉土
43. 第39節：關鍵一戰 振軍心
44. 第40節：重編密碼 逆轉勝
45. 第41節：流亡學生 話傷感
46. 第42節：飄洋跨海 過台灣
47. 第43節：南國椰林 舞婆娑
48. 第44節：小鎮古樸 離喧囂
49. 第45節：珠海長堤 荔枝灣
50. 第46節：苦風悽雨 捲殘雲
51. 第47節：西風蕭蕭 離廣州
52. 第48節：敗兵殘將 漠河邊
53. 第49節：月映池潢 念妻兒
54. 第50節：一葉孤舟 南海行
55. 第51節：披星戴月 過雷瓊
56. 第52節：思古幽情 走瓊州
57. 第53節：時命運也 豈途窮
58. 寫在江山風雨書後

懷念那段山河蹂躪
國難未斷的日子
(代序)

我的一生是一部移民的故事，是大時代萬千例子中的一個。前十年在原鄉中國大陸，後三十年在故鄉台灣，1980年舉家移居海外迄今四十年。原鄕、故鄉、僑鄉都是我的所愛，我的家。

回顧大陸十年，走過的中國是一個顚簸流離，烽火連天，戰爭不息的十年。秦關月，楚天雲，長江淮河，鄱陽洞庭，黑水長白，嶺南風情，南海椰林，都留下了童年深刻的烙印。

先父對原鄉愛得深沉，對隨軍播遷台灣前的十年，發出唈歎：「十年流離印痕，江河退逝年光。歴史消磨古今，看盡世事滄桑。」那是一個山河蹂躪國難未斷的年代。正因為有如此深刻的感受，促使我寫了我的第一部著作「江山風雨」，於2005年5月完成書稿。隨後又陸續寫完「日照紅樓」、「陌麈落地」、「羈旅雁鳴」，敍述家事、國事、天下事的文章，約60萬字。「日照紅樓」及「陌塵落地」分別於2017年12月及2020年2月，付印出版。「羈旅雁鳴」字約24萬字，全書發表於碧波網站，歷時近三年，於2020年10月刋登完畢。三部著作能夠得到正面回應，頗感欣慰。於是想到塵封已久的「江山風雨」，有公開發表的必要。找回1940年後十年，在中國大陸誕生的一代，共同的記憶。

全書分三章53節，約7萬字，第一章抗戰，第二章復元，第三章內戰。

第一章：重慶邊城
故事多

民國26年(1937年)7月7日，駐紮在河北省寧河縣豐台鎭(今天津市寧河區)的日軍，在北平市西南永定河上的蘆溝橋擧行演習，佯稱一名士兵失蹤，要求入宛平縣城內搜索，被國軍拒絕。日軍惱羞成怒，開砲攻擊宛平。國軍37師219團團長吉星文授命還擊，中國抗日戰爭正式爆發。

一個月後的8月13日，淞滬會戰在上海掀起，首都南京危在旦夕，遂有蔣委員長提議遷都至重慶的議題。

11月15日，國民政府「國防最高會議」議决遷都重慶，並將重慶升格為直轄市，成為抗戰時期政治、軍事、文化、經濟的中樞。諸多可歌可泣的故事在此發生，充分發揮了「抗戰第一，勝利第一。國家至上，民族至上。」的抗戰精神。(1）

第1節：生逢抗戰
艱苦時

民國26年（1937年)12月，首都保衛戰國軍失守。日軍進城屠殺前兩日，我的外祖父尹季和將眷屬隨國軍後勤留守單位，後撤到大後方，自己卻返回部隊，繼續抗日。

經過一年四個月的長途跋涉風霜雪雨，外婆帶著一家人於民國28年(1939年)4月到達重慶。這年10月父母完婚於重慶，我於次年（1940年)7月7日，蘆溝橋事變三週年誕生於重慶南岸。

民國27年(1938年）10月4日，日軍首次空襲重慶，沿嘉陵江低飛投彈，並用機關槍掃射地面，以測試中國軍隊的防空能力。初期成效不佳，次年改以「疲勞轟炸」方式進行干擾。每次來襲戰機三架，輪番上陣。

民國28年(1939年)4月，父親服務的陸軍通信兵第一團由桂林移防重慶，早外婆一個星期到達。次月就遇上了5月3日及4日兩天的日軍大轟炸，整個重慶市一片火海，大火燃燒一個星期未息。（2)

大轟炸首日解除警報後，姥姥帶著三個孩子奔出防空洞，未到家前已見熊熊烈火將房子化為灰燼。身邊只有一個小布袋，內裝一些乾糧及零用錢。

當晚被軍方安置到南岸一個叫「立石溝」的地方，是由數間土石牆陶瓦平房組成，兩面水田，兩面菜園。主人是一位五十多歲的老實人，和善樂於助人，大家稱他為「何老板」，我的幼兒期在這裡度過。

民國31年5月，父親晉升為上尉，部隊移防至榮昌縣，榮昌今已隸屬於重慶市，我們離開居住了兩年的立石溝，遷居榮昌。

巧合的是，我們在榮昌的第一個家，房東也姓何，當地人稱他的宅院為「何家大院」，距離縣城不遠，面積相當於4萬平方英尺。四週石牆，三合院農舍建築，大小房近20間。我們住在後院的其中兩間，磚造平房，木質門窗，古典樸雅。(3)

一條鄉間小路經過何家大院的前院大門，連接一條産業道路，可達縣城。

小路兩旁是大片旱田，種的是俗稱油菜籽的蕓苔，每年入秋時節是油菜籽開花的時候，金黃色的油菜花盛開奔放，隨風搖曳，美景盡收眼底。

大院南北兩側是菜圃，種植的是四季應時蔬菜。四季豆、扁豆、豌豆、蠶豆，是四川常見的豆類蔬菜。小時候我常吃的零食是香酥蠶豆，姥姥自製的豆瓣醬就是用蠶豆做的。

最難忘的是藤藤菜，也就是空心菜，抗戰時期家家戶戶每餐的餐桌上，必定會有豬油豆豉炒藤藤菜這道菜餚。

田裡也種紅薯，也就是地瓜，抗戰時期把它當主食看待，地瓜葉也用來餵豬，吃地瓜葉的豬，瘦肉比肥肉多。

榨菜加工是四川的食品工業，每年二、三月採收，農村每家每戶幾乎都在醃製四川榨菜，那個時候沒聽說有防腐劑和添加物。

由後院大門望出去，是一大片水田，種的是荸薺，也就是馬蹄。收成時走在田埂上，農夫必定會送幾粒又大又脆又新鮮的荸薺給小朋友，用埂間的清水洗淨後送入口中，真是甜在嘴裡，爽在心裡。田中白鷺覓食，又是另一番景色。

後院石牆外有一荷花池，塘中的水由田埂間引進，池塘開一出口，池水可流向一條地勢低窪的水溝，如此荷塘中的水是活動的。每年夏天，滿塘荷花散發出淡淡芳香，也是採收蓮藕的時候。

荷塘的右邊是一片竹林，翠竹叢生，在晨光照射下顯得格外翠綠，每年可收春冬兩季竹筍。

幼兒時第一次聽到蟬聲，就在榮昌。由何家大院遠處的樹林傳來。樹林後的山坡上，種植了許多亞麻，亞麻的纖維可以製成夏布，夏布做成的衣服，穿在身上舒適涼爽。榮昌縣是夏布生産中心，馳名國際。

2008年我與在上海病中的舅舅通電話，談起了這段陳年往事。他用蘇軾的一首「鷓鴣天」，將九百餘年前在湖北黃岡的蘇軾，抗戰時期的我們，當時在上海的他，打破時空連在一起，我深刻的體會出舅舅那個時候的心情，2010年11月他在上海去逝。

「林斷山明竹隠牆，亂蟬衰草小池塘。翻空白鳥時時見，照水紅蕖細細香。村舍外、古城旁，杖藜徐步轉斜陽。殷勤昨夜三更雨，又得浮生一日涼。」。(4）

第2節：初識唐詩
憶外婆

外婆，北方人稱姥姥。我的姥姥是一位虔誠的基督徒，在重慶時，經一位孫姓團長的夫人引薦，到南岸一座教堂做禮拜，延續到榮昌。每逢週日姥姥會帶領家人去教堂，非特殊情況從未中斷。

有一位浙江籍的牧師劉怡朋，贈予姥姥一張耶穌基督的手繪像，從民國33年起，就一直陪伴著我們這個家，途經中國大陸10萬里，從四川到東北經海南到台灣，現在仍然珍藏在台北的家中。

搬到何家大院這年，正是春末夏初時節，牆外的竹林裡傳來陣陣黃鸝鳥兒的鳴聲，百囀千迴。姥姥不時的咳嗽聲交雜其中，此情此景油然而生吟誦起金昌緒的那首「春怨」。

「打起黃鶯兒，莫教枝上啼。啼時驚妾夢，不得到遼西。」算算民國26年12月至今已有六年，姥姥仍然不知外公生死。我隨著姥姥吟唱這首詩，是我初次接觸唐詩的開始。

民國33年(1944年）陽春三月，春分已過，已見農夫田中工作，樹林裡時而傳來杜鵑啼叫的聲音，姥姥的咳聲由斷斷續續到咳個不停。一次重感冒之後，姥姥與世長辭，結束了44年多舛的生命。(5)

第3節：童年生活
樂趣多

民國33年(1944年)父親晉升為上尉通信連連長，有一名傳令兵叫黃清樹，莊戶人家老實人。平日擔任公文傳遞及連部清潔工作，還要負責飼養一匹來自寧夏的蒙古馬。這匹土黃色的馬，是父親的代步工具，白天騎著上班，傍晚下班騎回家。

每逢假日，我和大妹會騎上馬，由黃清樹牽馬到縣城兜風，確實很神氣。這匹馬配有軍糧和副食費，相當於一名上等兵的待遇。

椪柑是四川省的特産，四川紅橘是椪柑的一種，成熟時果皮呈紅色，多汁味甘。

另有一種，四川人稱它為「廣柑」的栁橙，風味絕佳即甜又香，參雜在橘園內種植。橘園距住家大院約三里路，我和大妹會在星期日催黃清樹牽馬，帶我們去採橘，那時還體會不出田園之樂。

民國34年(1945年)一月下旬，距離陰曆新年還有三個星期，榮昌下了一場大雪，這是我第一次看到雪花飄曳的美景。

還用臉盆來接，沒想到，回到家很快就化成水了。

榮昌位處四川盆地之南，受阻於秦嶺、大巴山，如非強烈北風吹襲，難有下雪天氣。瑞雪初見必有祥瑞，這年八月，日本無條件投降。

春節過後我們搬離了何家大院，來到縣城一處商賈住宅內，有前後兩院，是一座林園建築，院內有假山噴泉、魚池涼亭，具水石玲瓏之美，我們在此住了整整一年。

記憶深刻的是，房東秦大媽做的美食「四川蒸雜」，是一種粉蒸肉，配以紅薯、荸薺、蠶豆、豌豆、榨菜等食材，入蒸籠蒸上兩小時，香氣四溢，滿院皆是肉香菜香。當時只覺得好吃，不知什麼是品味，這是70多年前的事了，至今還想到那道菜的美味。(6）

第4節：滑竿坐轎
順口溜

李白詩「蜀道難」：噫吁嚱，危乎高哉，蜀道難難於上青天。

四川省因有長江、岷江、沱江、嘉陵江四大川而得名，秦時置巴蜀二郡，別名巴蜀。三國時為蜀地，故四川省簡稱蜀。

四川省高山環抱，丘陵盤錯，山嶽連綿不絕，交通極為不便。

抗戰時期有一種交通工具叫滑竿，由兩根大竹竿當支柱，撐起一張竹製無篷座椅。搭乘者坐於椅上，有如坐轎。

抬轎人又稱竿伕，身手敏捷，一前一後，行走於田間小徑及崎嶇山路，重慶郊外也常見此一景觀。

幼兒時我坐滑竿，是由父母抱著我坐。行進時後面的竿伕，看不清前方的路況，必須由前面的竿伕提醒，以確保坐轎人的安全。

為了避免行程間的無聊，也給坐轎人一些樂趣，於是有了不少前呼後應的順口溜出現。用道地的四川話道出，更夠勁，更夠味。

例如：（前呼)天上一道虹，(後應)地下一條蟲。意謂前方有水溝，提醒後面的竿伕留意。

(呼)窈窕淑女，(應)君子好逑。表示前方走來一位漂亮姑娘，請大家多看幾眼。

(呼)天上一朵雲，(應)地下一泡屎。前面有牛糞，注意了。

（呼)胖大娘，(應)奶奶長，（呼)上面跑白馬，（應)下面曬衣裳。意謂有一位胖大媽，就要經過。

（呼)大老爺大腦殻，(應)頭上纏個白布殻，（呼)腰幹插個煙袋腦殻，(應)屙起屎來棍棍戳。意謂見一荷鋤農夫，入廁茅房。抗戰艱困時期，鄉下廁所無廁紙可用，以竹片竹棍代替。

四川人生性樂觀進取，很能適應環境，由這些順口溜中，可見一斑，這或許是另一類抗戰精神的表現。（7）

第5節：鬼影悚悚
七保岩

民國32年（1943年)5月間，陸軍通信兵第六團成立通信兵士官大隊，父親在連長任內，被遴選為該大隊第二中隊上尉中隊長。這是繼民國28年5月，擔任峨嵋山軍官訓練團中尉教官之後，第二次出任軍中教育職務，大隊部設在榮昌縣城西南的七保岩。

大隊長叫劉前江，胡琴拉得特好，還教學員唱京劇。我父親是戲迷，兩人可對上了。有時唱戲入迷，竟忘了回家。父親常給我講京劇中的故事，對三娘教子、四郎探母、趙氏孤兒、烏盆記的劇情有點了解。

父親很有藝術天分，還在操場的牆壁上，書寫標語。四呎見方的大字，自己爬上梯子，打格子，打字様，用油漆一筆一劃塗刷而成。白牆、紅字、柳體，工力厚勁場面壯觀。「國家至上」、「民族至上」、「抗戰第一」、「勝利第一」，是當時機關、學校、部隊、車站、碼頭、工廠等地方，常見的標語。

這年八月間，父親輪値當值星官。一天午夜過後廵視營區，忽然間幾乎同時，學員寢室內的電燈全亮，然後忽滅忽明，號兵徐庭玉也吹起了集合號。父親大惑不解，詢問號兵是誰的命令。徐庭玉卻説：隊長，是你叫我吹的呀。父親說道：奇怪，我沒有叫你吹呀。（8)

實施夜間緊急集合，雖是課程之一，但是沒有安排在這個月。如有更動，值星官應該預先知道，為何狀況如此突然，父親心中發毛。聽說這個營區，曾經閙過鬼，七保岩原是清朝時期，砍頭行刑的地方。

且看各隊學員，不過五分鐘時間，就能全副武裝整整齊齊，集合在大操場上。一般夜間緊急集合，動作不會如此快速，而且也不會出現只穿單隻鞋子，忘穿襪子的尷尬場面。

父親當時很沉着，避免影響官兵情緒，引起恐慌，沒有阻止狀況繼續進行。立即走向隊伍，向官兵說道：今晚提前實施緊急集合，是要測試各位的警覺程度，大家表現得很好。現在由王少尉起音，原地唱義勇軍進行曲，越大聲越好。

隨後帶領部隊繞大操場跑了三圈，最後部隊解散就寢，起床號也晚吹了一個小時。

過後不久，陸續有人開小差，也就是當逃兵。團部也派來監察官調查，也沒有什麼結果，事情不了了之，含糊帶過。

再説那名號兵徐庭玉，有位哥哥叫徐慶隆，來自湖南鄉下，燒得一手好菜。民國27年秋天，父親時任中尉排長，兩兄弟在通信連內當炊事兵。徐庭玉沒事時，就吹弄他的那把銅號，吹出一點成績，當了號兵，一直跟隨父親到了四川。這年父親服務於南嶽衡山指揮所，與交通部衡山電信局有業務往來，局長姓瞿，是個京劇迷，與父親成了好朋友，此人鎮日長袍馬褂，一派書生打扮。徐慶隆常做些酒菜到瞿府，邀約父親喝酒聊天唱戲到深夜。

民國28年元月，日軍進攻南昌，同時轟炸衡陽，南嶽也被波及。徐慶隆在日機轟炸時，為了看熱閙，被彈片削去頭殻而慘死。(9）

第6節：處置逃兵
有爭議

抗戰時期的國軍，以劣質的武器裝備，對抗機械化的日軍，一直處於劣勢。一場小戰役打下來，都會有相當大的傷亡，全憑一股國家至上，民族至上的精神力量，支撐着部隊的士氣。當然也有經不起考驗，貪生怕死之輩，開小差的事，常見於各部隊中。

抗戰時期通信兵的待遇，高出其他兵種甚多，但仍有士兵逃亡之事，重者欈械潛逃，自然送軍法處理，一般都會私了。

有兩種方式懲罰逃兵，一是把部隊集合在大操場上，在衆目睽睽之下，帶出逃兵壓倒在地，用扁擔劈打臀部至皮開肉綻為止。通信兵比較人性化，將逃兵兩個大拇指，綁在舊式的手搖電話皮機上，通過電瓶的正負兩極，用力快速搖動發電手把，受刑人受到強力電流襲撃，會立即昏厥過去，痛苦只是一時。

在當時的時空環境下，這種不人道的處罰方式，頗有爭議。但是為了維護嚴明的軍紀，執行起來實在無奈。(10）

第7節：虛報兵員
吃空缺

抗戰時期，部隊裡還有一種怪現象，就是吃空缺。軍隊按編制徵滿兵員，以充實戰力。但沒有任何一個兵種的部隊人數十足，嚴重缺員高達三分之一者，是很常見的。

負責軍中糧秣薪餉發放者是軍需，獨立團級以上單位，有軍需官編制。軍需通常是部隊長的心腹，帶點親戚關係，有行號的帳房先生或家族的管家，當然也有受過正規財經教育的專業人員。

民國元年國民政府就有軍需學校的設立，民國26年抗戰軍興，軍需學校由南京遷往江西吉安，旋移四川江北。為了培植軍中軍需人員，有正規期次及計政訓練班和短期訓練班的成立。

在抗日戰爭那個年代，資源嚴重匱乏，糧秣服裝餉銀幾乎不可能依時按量到位，就要靠軍需人員去張羅。於是以少報多，能夠讓官兵吃飽穿暖，有薪餉可領，軍中就有了吃空缺現象。當然也有不肖之徒，聯合裙帶關係，同惡相濟者。核發軍糧偷斤減兩有之，糧內摻合砂粒有之。層峯並非不知情，而是上有決策下有對策，在這種時空環境下，軍需官難為，是不爭的事實。

民國32年父親在上尉連長任內，炊事班長常抱怨沒米下鍋，補給士官也怨聲載道，每月都要向朋友借錢，代墊副食費，多次面臨無法開飯的窘境。

父親忍不住，去找軍需官理論，兩人大打出手，由於出手很重，將對方打得鼻青臉腫，自己也掛了彩。此軍需官係某師長小舅子，雙方都有理，最後團部將此事淡化處理。(11）

天下就有這麼巧的事，十九年後的民國51年4月，我從聯勤財務學校畢業，以少尉財務官軍階，到單位報到，是父親陪我去的。

一進門讓我驚奇，父親與當年的吳軍需，兩對目光交集在一起。「你是吳軍需」，「你是陳連長」。兩人熱情的握着手，互道別來無恙風采依舊，那是一種久別重逢巧遇故知的喜悅。

我被分派到他的課內工作，有了這層關係，我工作得相當賣力。

更巧的是，民國54年我由金門調職台北，兩年後他再度成了我的直屬長官。那段時間，他常約父親至台北中華商場「四川吳抄手」小酌聊天，並至國軍文藝活動中心聽戲。

民國38年，他的妻子留在大陸，在台灣他一直未娶。兩岸開放探親後，他回了浙江原鄉。（12)

第8節：捉襟見肘
遇鄉親

民國28年元月，姥姥帶著三個孩子，從湖南祁陽經桂林、柳州、貴陽等地，歷時半年輾轉到了重慶。這是繼民國26年12月，外祖父在南京陣亡後，姥姥帶著孩子逃難到湖南後，再一次的遷徙。

當時生活幾乎到了絕境，姥姥試著做了一些家鄉小吃，蒸炸都有，母親跟著到住家鄰街上去叫賣，可是不對四川人的胃口，生意很不理想。

幸好遇到一位在高砲部隊當排附的親戚，叫莊家祿的年輕人，年齡稍大於母親，論輩份還要稱呼我的母親為六姨。

莊家祿吆喝了一些山東老鄉，幫助買了大部分姥姥做的吃食，對家庭經濟多少有了一些補助。

民國30年6月5日，日本軍機再度疲勞轟炸重慶，造成驚動世界的重慶大隧道慘案，悶死者近三千人。

國軍的高射砲射程，根本到達不了日機的飛行高度，只能在敵機低空投彈時，抓住機會射擊。這位射擊精凖的莊排附，當日就撃落擊傷日機各一架，成了新聞焦點。（13）

第9節：舉國歡騰
慶勝利

民國34年的暑假，我常結伴到家附近的一所校園去遊玩，喜歡在那裡盪鞦韆。大約是七月底的事，學校大禮堂的椅子全被移開，留出中間一大塊空地，來了七、八個人，搬來許多竹材和工具，開始做起竹簍。兩三天的功夫，就做成了近20個竹簍，其中一個特別大，竟然是個龍頭，後來他們又拿來數十面繪有五彩鱗片，縫製而成的長布。又將竹簍串連起來，長布覆蓋其上。每一竹簍下面，都用一根粗竹桿撐住，組裝成一條栩栩如生的彩龍，我們意識到日本鬼子快要投降了。

有關日本即將投降的消息，於8月10日，重慶的中央日報、大公報都發出號外。數萬民眾擁至報館及中央社門前，等待消息的發展。慶祝抗戰勝利的橫幅，部隊、學校、商家，處處可見，小朋友也準備了燈籠，大家都期待勝利的那一刻快快到來。

八月中旬的榮昌，天氣悶熱得難受。父親通常睡得很晚，收聽電台廣播已成習慣。8月15日，晚上十點多鐘，重慶中央廣播電台插播重大消息：日皇今天對日本全國人民頒佈詔書，命令帝國政府通知中、美、英、蘇四國，接受波茨坦宣言，向同盟國無條件投降。

隨後又有鈴木首相向日本全國人民廣播的消息，說明天皇大詔既下，國家今後之方向已定，多難之前途，惟有赖國民努力，開拓命運，今後應一心維護國體，內爭輕舉尤當切戒等語。（14）

父親沒等到聽完，就拿起洗臉盆，猛力敲打起來。喜悅帶有急促，大聲喊到：日本投降了，日本投降了。

驚醒了家人，也警醒了左右鄰居。不到數分鐘整條大街，整個縣城，燈火通明，奔相走告。歡呼之聲，鞭炮之聲，震耳欲聾，響徹雲霄。同胞們的每一颗心都在跳動，每一個細胞都在沸騰。八年來壓在心裡的鬱悶，盡情地發洩了出來。有人激動得嚎啕大哭，隨後與路人緊緊擁抱。爆竹聲、歡樂聲、汽笛聲、歌唱聲，交織成一片，榮昌城的男女老少整夜未眠。

這場勝利的到來得之不易，正是玉怗驚天，金湯失固，碩德不孤，得道多助，不避艱險，以抗戾暴，同胞一心，浴血抗戰，耿光大烈，舊宇重光的寫照。（15)

第二章：錦繡河山
復元路

民國34年11月，在普天同慶薄海騰歡中，父親接奉命令，調往東北工作。我們一家人，包括比我大九歲的舅舅和小我三歲的妹妹及剛誕生的弟弟在內，開始了復元之行。

第10節：恩施高原
崎嶇行

民國35年2月上旬，春節過後不久，父親服務的部隊至重慶整編，陸軍通信兵第六團的四個連，分別派駐湖南、湖北及東北，眷屬得與部隊同行。

部隊由一名營長帶隊，經四川秀山縣（今隸屬重慶市)經川湘公路(今319號國道）入境湘西，改由湖南境內的酉水河至沅陵，順沅江經桃源至常德，留下一個連。其餘續行過洞庭湖至漢口，再留下一個連。另兩個連順長江到達南京，改乘京滬鐵路(南京至上海，全長305公里）到上海，再改搭海輪到東北。

今日之京滬高鐵是由北京至上海，中途連結天津、濟南、徐州、蚌埠、南京、鎮江、無錫、蘇州，全長1318公里。(16）

恩施高原，其東為兩湖盆地，西為四川盆地，西南為雲貴高原，南為黔東丘陵，居四個中國自然地理區中心位置。山嶺起伏，河谷深陷，名副其實的「蜀道之難，難於上青天」。

車隊迂迥行走在九彎十八拐的碎石路上，車速必須緩慢，才能避免危險。

出川前，從酉陽到秀山，一在山上，一在山腳，不到50公里的路程，卻走了整個大白天。不過沿途奇山異水，風景秀麗，心情愉快，沖淡了旅途中的疲憊。

早晚溫差大，入夜後氣溫急降，有野狼出沒，車輛如要停下來休息片刻，野狼會一擁而上，十分恐怖。有經驗的駕駛兵，會將前車燈打開，猛按喇叭，向空鳴槍，才會驅趕狼群。過了川湘邊界（今渝湘邊界），有一個名為「茶洞」的小城，車隊在此停留一天一夜。(17)

第11節：湘西邊城
苗家寨

茶洞是湖南西部邊陲的一座典型苗鄉小鎮，地方雖小，卻是重慶（渝）、湖南(湘）、貴州（黔），三地陸路交通必經之地，曾有「一腳踏三省」之稱。小鎮又稱「茶峒」，始建於西元1803年(清嘉慶8年）。山城雄峙，河水悠悠，距離西北方花垣縣城僅25公里。

記憶中的茶洞，有一條小街數條巷弄，石板舖成的街道，可見斑斑石痕，凸顯出歷史的滄桑。

烏蓬船在清澈的河面上輕蕩，苗女撐篙搖槳其上，溪邊浣紗的姑娘，河岸戲水的兒童，蕎耙店前倚門而坐的老婦人，青山之下褐木黛瓦的吊腳樓。這一幅夢幻似的美景，襯托出小鎮的古樸、寧靜、典雅，有一股靈秀之氣。

高中時期，讀沈從文的小說《邊城》，𥚃面所述的故事，都以此小鎮為背景。2005年7月，中國大陸以沈從文的這部小說，將茶洞更名為「邊城」。

1952年香港邵氏公司有一部電影「翠翠」，就是以《邊城》中的故事，改編拍成。小城溪邊有一座白塔，旁邊住有一戶人家，一位老人，一位姑娘，還有一隻小黃狗。姑娘名叫翠翠，是老人的孫女，祖孫相依為命。

翠翠工作在烏蓬船上，電影還有一首主題曲，我還能哼哼，歌詞是：搖船的姑娘，妳真美。茶洞找不到第二位，大大的眼睛長長的眉，白白的牙兒紅紅的嘴。多少人想做媒，不知將來便宜誰，便宜誰。(18）

第12節：酉水河上
拉縴行

離開了茶洞小鎮，順著今日的209號國道經花垣縣城，到達保靖。沅江支流酉水河流經保靖城南，我們在此停留一晚，次日改乘酉水河上的小木船至沅陵，再換乘沅江上的船隻，經桃源到常德。

車隊至保靖，完成運輸任務，裝載了一批軍需物資，折返重慶。

保靖當年的人口不足3萬人，如今已達28萬6千612人(2003年)，土家族和苗族佔人口73%。此地有3萬年前東洛舊石器時代遺址，及呂洞山名勝，水鴨食品系列頗受遊客青睞。

部隊及眷屬，搭上酉水河的木船，繼續行程，船隊浩浩蕩蕩，頗為壯觀，前後船隻相距兩里，船速順水而行，早上自保靖出發，黃昏之前到達沅陵，在此再停留一夜。

途中遇到縴夫拉縴奇景，船隻逆流而上時才會出現。當時的船隻很多還是人力操作，需要縴夫拉行。岸邊數組人拉縴，船上數人撐篙，船尾有人掌舵。縴夫在河邊的石頭上，跳上躍下，背負船纜用力拉行，並且留意船纜不被岩石絆住，影響船隻行進。（19）

在中國內陸船隻還沒有充分利用機械引擎推動的年代，縴夫這一行業是很盛行的，討個生活相當辛苦。工作時他們會齊力吆喝，音律和諧，聲音洪亮，尤其在山谷之中，傳出的陣陣迴音，讓人聽來有一種淒涼滄惘的感覺。

唸初中時，有一首「拉縴行」的歌，旋律流暢明快，縴夫心聲盡在歌韻之中。中國大陸也有一首有關縴夫的歌「縴夫的愛」，描述一對縴夫愛人生活的苦悶和喜樂，傳唱多時歷久不衰。

處在21世紀的今天，縴夫這一行業已經很難存在了，只能在觀光景點去找回記憶中的拉縴行了。（20)

第13節：邂逅沅江
初春時

沅陵，唐宋時期稱辰州，民國24年7月國民政府設「湘西綏靖處」於此。位於湖南西北部沅江中游，酉水河與沅江會流處，面積5852平方公里，北與張家界為鄰，素有「湘西門戶」及「南天鎖鑰」之稱。是一個嶺岳起伏，遠眺近觀，景物如畫的地方。

湘西的物産由此集散，航運繁忙，我們在此停留一晚，次晨換搭沅江船隻，續行常德。

船隻劃破了濤濤江水，兩岸重山在夕陽照射下，茫茫煙雲兩相呼應，在這初春的沅江之上，我們與春花爛漫的美景相邂逅。

沅湘一帶，自古常為失意文人放逐之地。最早屈原在此作《離騷》，王維為此寫《桃源行》，劉禹錫的《競渡曲》：沅江五月平堤流，邑人相將浮綵舟。靈均何年歌已矣，哀謠振楫從此起。是記述沅陵地區，一次龍舟競賽的情形。

東晉時武陵人陶淵明來到沅江，更寫下一篇名垂青史的《桃花源記》。李白、杜甫、王昌齡、柳宗元、辛棄疾等人，他們深深熱愛這裡的山水民情，為沅湘一帶留下不少著名詩篇。(21）

第14節：世間豈有
桃花源

陶淵明：東晉哀帝興寧3年(西元365年），生於柴桑，又稱武陵(今江西九江），卒於南朝宋文帝元嘉4年（西元427年），享年62歲。

晉太元：指東晉孝武帝太元，計21年(西元376-396）。

陶淵明《桃花源記》：「晉太元中，武陵人，捕魚為業。緣溪行，忘路之遠近，忽逢桃花林」。就是這篇文章，給後人留下許多想像空間。

中國大陸很多地方有桃花源，重慶酉陽的桃花源，景色優美和陶淵明筆下的世外桃源十分相似。河南南陽內鄕縣的桃花源，有如人間仙境。

《辭海》對武陵一詞的解釋是指，湖南常德一帶。沅江入洞庭湖，近常德處有桃源縣。

1980年代，湖南農民在桃源附近，發現了一千六百年前陶淵明所描述的桃花源。1986年9月重陽節，桃源縣民還舉辦了一次發現桃花源活動。至於是否就是當年陶淵明所描繪的桃花源，仍有商確的必要。

當年我們乘坐在沅江的木船上，觀兩岸風景讓人迷醉。不遠處，就有一個地方叫桃花源，如今已是觀光景點。

想當年，八年艱苦的日子都捱過了，走在復元的路上，此情此景人在醉鄉，卻有信流而行天涯飄泊的感觸。父親曾以秦觀筆下的「桃源」，來譬喻當時的心情。「醉漾輕舟，信流引到花深處。麈緣相誤，無計花間住。煙水茫茫，千里斜陽暮。山無數，亂紅如雨，不計來時路」。

船過桃源，稍息片刻，直航常德。（22）

第15節：浩瀚無垠
洞庭湖

常德是湘西第一大城，位於沅江下游，是兩個內陸省四川、貴州貨物的集散中心。城西山巒起伏，東控洞庭湖，地勢險要，為軍事重鎮。民國32年11月1日至33年1月5日，長達66天的中日常德會戰在此發生。

同行的一個通信連，留此駐防，其餘續行。

沅江流經常德市區，形成一曲流，將全城分割為二。城北為商業中心，市肆繁榮。城南為工業園區，有仿古城景點。現有兩座大橋，連接城南城北。

當年見碼頭上有許多挑夫，從船上挑下一桶一桶的桐油。江面有許多飄浮的木材，由小船拖向洞庭湖，如今此景已不復存在。我們在此停留了兩天兩夜，恢復了連日來的舟車勞頓。

第三天，其餘三個連，各自分搭一艘航行於洞庭湖上的客輪，開往下一站岳陽。

客船行駛在浩瀚的洞庭湖上，別有一番風情。當時的洞庭湖是中國第一大淡水湖，面積有3720平方公里。1970年後鄱陽湖取代了洞庭湖的位置，雖然面積只有3206平方公里。長期以來湖南省內四條大河，湘、資、沅、澧各江的泥沙，淤積於洞庭湖內，湖邊居民圍地成田，與湖爭地，造成嚴重後果。

三艘客船具動力引擎，客艙、餐廳等設備具全，船隻兩側有走廊及䕶欄，船頂還有觀景台。

印象深刻的是，這艘大船，用粗大的船纜拖著三艘木船行進，木船上載有各種貨物，運往長江各城市。很像一隻母鴨，帶領着三隻小鴨在水上漫遊。

在寧靜的夜色中，月高風徐，白雲浮動，滿天星斗，湖天一線，船隊緩緩破浪而前。

當晨曦從湖面升起時，船上敲打起當天第一次晨鐘。在此之前，就有很多人站滿觀景台，立於甲板上、䕶欄邊，觀看這湖上日出美景，船將要進入岳陽港了。(23）

第16節：銜山面水
岳陽樓

近中午時分，船隊駛入岳陽城西南方的南津港。走在後面的一艘，首先收回船䌫，跟隨在後的三艘木船脫離母船，各自前往碼頭卸貨。另兩艘母船，依序辦理，各母船緩緩駛入客輪碼頭靠岸。

岳陽又名岳州，位於湖南省東北，洞庭湖東岸。京廣鐵路(原粵漢鐵路），穿越城區，係兩湖盆地水路及陸路交通樞紐，背山面水，地勢險要。

城西有岳陽樓，湖光山色，屹立古城一隅。樓高四層，登樓遠眺，美景陶人欲醉。北宋文學泰斗范仲淹在其散文《岳陽樓記》中記載：「予觀夫巴陵勝狀，在洞庭一湖，銜遠山，吞長江，浩浩蕩蕩，橫無際涯。朝暉夕陰，氣象萬千，此則岳陽樓之大觀也」。

歷代騷人墨客遊此，莫不賦詩留記。李白曾有「水天一色，風月無邊」，杜甫也有「昔聞洞庭水，今上岳陽樓，」等名句留此。

《岳陽樓記》全文刻於樓中八扇大門之上，其結語「先天下之憂而憂，後天下之樂而樂」兩句，更為千古名言。

傳八仙之一李鐵拐，曾三遊樓上買醉，人均不識，後題詩而去，詩曰：「三醉岳陽人不識，朗吟飛過洞庭湖」，因此後人將其神像祀於頂樓之上。

在岳陽停留期間，除了登上岳陽樓外，並且搭船去了距離城西不遠，洞庭湖口的君山島。關於此島，傳說中有一個「淚痕斑竹」的悽美故事。(24）

君山島位於岳陽東北15公里的洞庭湖中，面積1．2平方公里，島上有12個山丘，狀如螺髻。在湖中遠眺此島，好似沉浮於輕煙薄霧之中。

島上產茶，芳香撲鼻。生長的翠竹又稱「湘妃竹」，斑痕別致，質地堅厚。

傳說堯帝有兩位美麗聰慧的女兒，許配給賢能的舜帝。舜帝南巡時，妻妾同行，愛妻娥皇(屈原筆下的湘君），寵妾女英(屈原筆下的湘夫人），合稱「湘妃」。夫婦三人相敬如賓，恩愛恆逾，夫巡婦隨，形影不離。

舜帝勤政愛民，跋涉於蒼梧山麓洞庭湖畔，積勞成疾，崩於蒼梧。湘妃悲痛欲絕，朝夕抱竹痛哭，涙珠灑於竹上，竹顯褐色斑點，湘人稱其為「斑竹」。湘妃殉情投湘江而死，屍體十數日後，浮現於洞庭湖面。漁民乃葬二妃於君山島上，島內有古蹟二妃墓及湘妃祠景點。

唐朝詩人雍陶，曾作「題君山」詩句，詩曰：煙波不動影沉沉，碧色全無翠色深。疑似水仙梳洗處，一螺青黛鏡中心。

煙波不動，形容湖面風平浪靜。沉沉，寫君山倒影在湖中。碧，湖色。翠，山色。

凝視倒影自然只見翠山，不見碧湖。倒影中的君山太像鏡中仙女的螺髻。（25）

第17節：赤壁遙想
古戰場

在岳陽改乘長江客輪，經新堤(今洪湖縣）、嘉魚，至武昌。武昌是武漢三鎮中最大都市，當年是湖北省會，辛亥革命起義，推翻滿清的發祥地。

船駛離洞庭湖進入長江，向東北行過洪湖20公里，長江南岸有赤壁一地（原屬蒲圻，今隸赤壁縣）。三國時期，周瑜撃敗曹操80萬大軍於此。

東漢獻帝建安13年(西元208年）11月22日半夜，諸葛孔明在七星壇祭風，一陣東風颳起，周瑜在三江口縱火，黃蓋的火船衝入曹操的連鎖船陣，烈火衝天。不到半日，曹軍灰飛煙滅，鮮血染紅滾滾長江。

行經赤壁，見一千八百餘年前古戰場，讓人感到世事滄桑，帶有一份悽惘。（26）

第18節：昔人已乘
黃鶴去

夕陽中江輪駛抵武昌，停靠當時的漢陽門碼頭。父母和舅舅是舊地重逢，景物依舊人事已非，歡喜之中帶有悲涼。

武昌古名江夏，又稱鄂州，長江及漢水交會之處，隔長江與漢口、漢陽，適成鼎立之勢。辛亥革命起義，據此為發祥之地，曾是湖北省會。城中的黃鶴樓古蹟，始建於三國，京劇「黃鶴樓」中，是孔明三氣周瑜的地方。

唐朝詩人崔顥詠讚黃鶴樓：昔人已乘黃鶴去，此地空餘黃鶴樓。黄鶴一去不復返，白雲千載空悠悠。晴川歷歷漢陽樹，芳草萋萋鸚鵡洲。日暮鄉關何處是，煙波江上使人愁」。

李白亦有詩句：故人西辭黃鶴樓，煙花三月下揚州。孤帆遠影碧空盡，惟見長江天際流。

黃鶴樓經過無數次戰火的蹂躪，卻成了一幢殘樓。抗戰勝利後，它依舊蒼勁，屹立不搖。在一座清代鑄造的青銅樓鼎前，舊物重現，引發深沉的幽思之情。1985年，黃鶴樓重建，面貌一新。

我們來到武昌城西的一座碼頭邊，父親遙指對岸漢口，述說民國27年，他奉令架設一條橫渡長江軍用電話電纜的往事。那是一次艱鉅的任務，他排除重重險阻，圓滿完成。

前些日子，整理父親寫給我的信件，有一封提及他與母親、姑姑，於1995年至武漢探親，與定居武漢的五叔，同遊黃鶴樓的記述，信中有一段文字：余自民國二十五年，赴陜西潼關，就任第一個軍職開始，次年奉調漢口，之後晉升調職，至抗戰勝利復元，路過武昌，重遊黃鶴樓故址，前後整整十年。至一九九五年，再次登上黃鶴樓，已是重建後的新樓。六十年內五次重逢，却有不同的感受。

我們還去了漢口火車站，民國27年，姥姥帶著三個孩子，不分晝夜在淒風苦雨中，在車站等待外公回家。早一年，外公人已在南京保衛戰中，為國捐軀。

父親還填詞一首，追憶前麈往事：六十年漂泊歲月，今歲新夢，忽到黃鶴舊山頭。歛秦煙，收楚霧，熨江流。黃河水，秦關月，川蜀情，，滾滾長江水流東。（27）

第19節：黃岡赤壁
懷古情

離開武漢，江輪駛往黃岡。黃岡昔名黃州，長江流經城西及城南。城西有一峭壁，形如象鼻，伸入江中，取名「赤鼻磯」。一江之隔，其南為鄂城(今鄂州），船靠今日的長江鄂州港口，近有觀音閣名勝，在此停留半日。

北宋蘇軾（1036-1101），字子瞻，號東坡，眉州眉山人(今四川省眉山市）。因撰文諷喻王安石變法，得罪朝廷，於宋神宗元豐二年(1079年）八月入獄，史稱「烏台詩獄」。次年二月眨黃州(今湖北黃岡市)，元豐四年在黃州城東一片坡地上，築一小書屋，成了蘇軾落難時的棲身之處，提「東坡雪堂」四字匾額，懸於屋上。

初至異鄉，誤將湖北口音之「赤鼻」聽成「赤壁」。在滿腔不平中，於此年十月寫下千古絕唱的《赤壁懷古》詞作：大江東去，浪淘盡，千古風流人物。故壘西邊，人道是三國周郎赤壁。亂石穿空，驚濤拍岸，捲起千堆雪。江山如畫，一時多少豪傑！遙想公瑾當年，小喬初嫁了，雄姿英發。羽扇綸巾，談笑間，檣櫓灰飛煙滅。故國神遊，多情應笑我，早生華髪，人生如夢，一樽還酹江月。

為求區別兩個赤壁，後人將黃岡赤壁取名為「文赤壁」。赤壁之戰時的古戰場，今赤壁市為「武赤壁」。

我們在鄂城作了一次西塞山之遊，是今日鄂州的西山風景區。唐代詩人張志和，在此作《漁歌子》：西塞山前白鷺飛，桃花流水鱖魚肥。青箬笠，綠蓑衣，斜風細雨不須歸。

下一行程，前往江西省廬山之北的九江市。(28)

第20節：欲識廬山
真面目

江輪在九江客運碼頭靠岸，部隊中的第二個通信連在此留下駐防。

九江，古名潯陽，位於鄱陽湖之北，長江流經城北，南倚廬山，地勢險要為兵家必爭之地。是江西省北部門戶，有南潯鐵路通往南昌，全省貨物的總吞吐港，以瓷器、大米、茶葉為大宗。市區內有八里、甘棠、南門、白水、琵琶等湖，各湖均有通往長江的水道，兩岸夾柳成蔭，風景優美，我們在此停留兩天兩夜。

1991年建成的長江大橋，是繼武漢長江大橋、南京長江大橋之後，中國大陸最大最長的公鐵路兩用大橋，是連接大江南北又一座天塹通道，當年如欲進入湖北境內，需要搭乘渡輪。

「橫看成嶺側成峰，遠近高低各不同。不見廬山真面目，只緣身在此山中」，蘇軾的一首「題西林壁」緊扣著千年來中國人的心弦。將廬山的美景，起伏的山嶺，在雲霧繚繞中，難識其貌，其意境之絕妙，成了千古絕唱。

廬山，古時有匡俗者結廬於此，故名廬山。三面臨水，西臨陸地，千崖萬壑，風景秀麗，是避暑勝地。明朝旅行家徐霞客，於萬曆46年（1618年）遊歷廬山，形容廬山峯巒疊秀，峭壁幽谷，山嶺綿延數十里，各自成峯，雲霧變幻，瞬間萬態，蔚為奇觀。

民國26年7月，蔣中正委員長在此發表廬山宣言，面對日本侵略，聲明「中國希求和平不求苟安，準備應戰而不求戰」。

次日一早，我們先到達牯嶺鎮，再順登山道路上山，搭汽車或坐滑竿均可。因第二天上午，續航懷寧，我們選擇乘坐滑竿，只作重點遊覽。

「美廬」是當年抗戰時期，蔣介石伉儷在廬山的官邸。這幢由英國建築師赫莉女士，建築的英國式別墅，以半賣半送方式，給了蔣夫人宋美齡女士。蔣介石在別墅內的巨石上，親題「美廬」兩字，美廬至今仍然保持原貌，完整無缺。我們順道遊歷了附近的仙人洞、琴湖、錦繡谷等景點，這是我一生中，至今唯一的一次廬山遊。雖不見廬山真面目，只緣身在此山中。

今日登廬山，已有䌫車索道可乘，全長2864米，10分鐘即可攻頂。如有機緣，能夠再度重遊。

下次登廬山必遊三處景點，鄱口、五老峯及三疊泉。

鄱口，位於含鄱嶺上，是一山嶺崖口，面對鄱陽湖而得名，富於湖光山色之美，常年雲霧繚繞，行走其間，有如置身雲海。

五老峯，在牯嶺東南，綿延數里，各峯似斷未斷，峯嶺之上有數株奇形老松，樹齡將近千年，盤虬奇絕。

廬山數十處泉瀑之中，尤以三曡泉最為奇特，水流由五老峯之北傾注而下，激於盤石之上，水花四濺，瀑水寒氣襲人，飛流千尺，洩於龍潭之中，為廬山第一勝景。

李白有「望廬山瀑布」詩作，「日照香爐生紫煙，遙看瀑布掛前川。飛流直下三千尺，疑似銀河落九天」，李白所指之香爐，係香爐峯，與五老峯並列，三曡泉相望。白雲悠悠，山嵐映照，飛瀑千尺，美景宜人。(29）

第21節：駭浪天浮
采石磯

江輪由九江順長江向東北行，經過馬當，進入安徽境內。日出開航，中午到達懷寧(今為安慶），停留數小時後續航，經貴池(今池州）、銅陵，於午夜抵達蕪湖。

蕪湖，在青弋江與水陽江入長江會流處，長江流經城西，鐵公路四通八達，港寛水深，海輪可駛達此處，是煤、米、茶、木材的集散中心。蕪湖米是米中極品，蕪湖也是中國四大米市之一。這裡的蟹黃湯包，是人們嚮往的美食，與上海南翔小籠包齊名。

蕪湖的古蹟也多，城北長江岸有巨石兀，傳三國時劉備病逝於白帝城，孫夫人在東吳聞噩訊後，於此投江殉節。

次日中午續航南京，路經當塗、孚石磯及馬鞍山，晚間停靠南京中山碼頭。

當塗位於長江東南岸，東北有采石磯，突出江面，形勢險峻為歷代用兵重地。采石磯有古蹟太白樓，係紀念李白而建，李白死後，葬於采石對岸的青山之上。

南宋高宗紹興31年(1161年）11月，名將虞允文督領建康（今南京）諸軍，以舟師抗拒金主完顔亮的大軍，鏖戰於采石磯。完顔亮失利潰敗，而遭部屬縊殺。這是宋朝南渡以來，最能振奮人心的一次大㨗。

南宋詩人張孝祥，曾以詞作「聞采石戰勝」熱烈祝賀采石之戰的大勝：雪洗虜塵靜，風約楚雲留。何人為寫悲壯，吹角古城樓。湖海平生豪氣，關塞如今風景，剪燭看吳鈎。賸喜燃犀處，駭浪與天浮。

中華民國在大陸時期的舊有行政區劃分上，當塗包括采石和馬鞍山。今日的馬鞍山，經過數十年的發展經營，已成為安徽省的一個一線大都市。原先的采石及太白樓古蹟，現已併入馬鞍山市。(30）

第22節：鷄鳴鍾山
遍秦淮

華燈初上時刻，在客輪鳴笛聲中，由一艘領港船引導，緩緩進入南京港。旅客站滿了觀景台、甲板及兩側船廊。父親牽著我的手，媽媽抱著弟弟，舅舅把妹妹扛在肩上，站在船頭甲板右側有利位置。

有人驚嘆，有人歡呼，更有人情緒激動，紛紛指著就在眼前的南京城，一個對個人、對家庭、對國家、對民族的悲情城市。

聲音此起彼落，「前面是莫愁湖」、「過幾個街口就是玄武湖」、「我還記得夫人廟在哪裡」、「過了秦淮河就是中華門」、「遠處是紫金山，中山陵就在那邊」。當聽到「右前方就是雨花台」時，母親忍不住抽泣起來，那可能就是外祖父捐軀殉國的地方。

抗戰勝利後，有一首家喻戶曉的藝術歌曲《鍾山春》，傳詠至今，歷久不衰。描寫出鍾山的巍峨，在龍蟠虎距的石頭城裡，南京無邊風景，裝點出江南新春。

政府播遷台灣後，畢業於福建音專的沈炳光教授，作了一首《冬夜夢金陵》，由王文山教授填詞，唱出了對南京的懷念，長一輩的人每當聽到或唱起這首歌時，都會潸然淚下：落絮飛花，燈殘被冷，夢中重返金陵，夢中重返金陵。滾滾長江水，獨抱孤城。石馬石人依舊，咸默默，守口如瓶。從別離，心頭萬緖，說與誰聽？聽，聽，晨鐘已響遍遠近村莊，多少鷄鳴。稚子紛紛閙，夢再難成。滿院青松翠柏，都壓得積雪盈盈，都壓得積雪盈盈。天晴後，冰消凍解，氣爽風輕。（31）

民國26年(1937年）12月的一場浩劫，日軍洗劫了這座古城，燒殺擄掠，無所不為，同胞們的鮮血染紅了長江水。這一年，姥姥帶著孩子告別了南京，也告別了外祖父，走上飄泊之路，去了大後方重慶。八年之後重逢南京，景物雖在，卻人事已非。

唐朝詩人劉禹錫寫了一首「石頭城」：「山圍故國周遭在，潮打空城寂寞回。淮水東邊舊時月，夜深還過女牆來」，恰如母親當時心中深沉的感受。

六朝以還，秦淮河就已雕梁畫棟，十里珠簾，至民國已有一千七百餘年，東升的明月，抗戰後仍舊從城埤升起，照射在這座殘破的古城。明孝陵的柳絮仍然飄落在石馬石象之上。莊嚴肅穆的中山陵上，各界復元的人士，憑弔國父陵寢，不絕於途。

江水波濤洶湧，拍打著古城，伴隨著鍾山、鷄鳴寺、燕子磯、雨花台。濤聲在寒夜裡，星月在朦朧中，人兒沉緬於懷古幽情，深沉的思緒中。

我們短暫在南京停留了三天，那幾天小客棧附近的鷄鳴聲，格外雄渾、清脆、有力。2016年2月，重逢南京，時隔整整七十年了，父親、舅舅已駕鶴西遊。(32）

第23節：回首浦口
別時情

民國26年(1937年）10月底，八三一淞滬會戰結束，日本軍閥集中兵力，順京滬鐵路(南京至上海，全長305公里。與現在由北京至上海的京滬高鐵，全長1318公里不同），逐步向南京逼近。11月19日，蘇州及常熟淪陷。12月2日，長江第一道江防要塞江陰失守。3日，丹陽陣地被攻陷。5日，第二道江防要塞鎮江棄守。

12月5日至8日，南京下關碼頭及對岸浦口火車站，擠滿了人群，個個人心惶惶，急於離開南京。

由於南京岌岌可危，衛戍司令部通令軍眷，隨國軍留守服務處先行撤離。外祖父帶領一家，由下關輪渡至浦口，前往火車站報到，搭乘火車經徐州、鄭州，輾轉南下到漢口安置。

候車時舅舅打破好一陣子的沉默，問道：爹，你怎麼不跟我們一起走。

站在一旁的母親和二姨，哇的一聲哭了起來，姥姥則頻頻拭淚。外公安慰家人：部隊裡還有很多事情要處理，你們先去後方，隨後我會與你們會合。

外公叮嚀外婆打趣的說：好好看住這箱東西，孩子可以丟，箱子不能丟。

這箱東西是光緒帝御賜給外曾祖父尹曰桂，告老還鄉的禮物，裡面較珍貴的一件，是唐寅的一幅畫作。

外公是一位彬彬樸實，質文備俱的人，高大的個子，眉清目秀。那年浦口車站，北風蕭瑟，下著初冬時節的淒冷小雨，令人倍增離愁。

白居易詩作《南浦別》：南浦淒淒別，西風裊裊秋。一看腸一斷，好去莫回頭。

在朔風凜冽下，顯得格外肝腸寸斷。世事無常，這次的浦口送別，竟成了外公與家人的永別。（33）

第24節：一代忠𩆜
萬古存

得知外祖父殉國的消息，是在民國35年夏初，我們到達瀋陽之後。於此之前，大家還抱著一絲希望，會有重逢的一天。

戰後國民政府整理南京保衛戰時，，失蹤的國軍官兵人口，證實外祖父敵前陣亡，大家只有接受這份殘酷的事實。

民國37年3月，接到國民政府頒發的榮哀狀，褒揚外袓父在南京抗戰陣亡的忠貞事蹟，為國殊堪矜式，特頒狀永誌哀榮，並由國民政府主席蔣中正簽署。

1990年4月，父母親赴大陸探親，在上海與二姨會合，兼程前往南京。在「侵華日軍大屠殺遇難同胞紀念館」的石碑上，找尋外祖父尹季和的名字。就在發現的那一刻，全都潸然涕下。次日，在南京天主堂，為外祖父辦了一場追思彌撒，遙祭在天之靈。

站在南京長江大橋上，大家眺望當年的下關碼頭，及對岸隠約可見的浦口車站，感到往事不堪回首。父親的筆記上，留下了當時的感受：「生離死別，不堪回首。滾滾長江，水逝東流。青山碧水，風景依舊。幾度夕陽，歲月悠悠」。(34)

第25節：兒女才是
心中寶

浦口話別時，外祖父叮嚀姥姥好好看住的那一箱骨董字畫，經過漢口、長沙、衡陽等地的多次搬遷，長途跋涉到了湖南湘江上的美麗小縣祁陽。在這裡住了近五個月，母親還在當地的一所中學，讀了四個月的初中課程。

房東姓徐，是位樸實的農民，有五個兒子，兩個女兒，與老伴及幼女住在一起。老大當上了國軍的少尉排長，除幼女外，其他兒女都已成家。在縣城有數幢房子，算是富農，與姥姥相處，如同家人。

民國27年10月底，武漢撤守，湖南局勢吃緊。次年元月，軍方再度將軍眷後撒至桂林，姥姥倉皇中帶著孩子離開祁陽。

南京失守前，外祖父交給姥姥的那箱骨董，卻留在租屋的小閣樓上。當想起時，所搭乘的火車已經到達廣西的全縣。

到達桂林後，立即電報給房東徐老先生，獲覆：東西仍在，請勿擔心。

沒多久傳來祁陽被日本軍機轟炸的消息，老房東的房子未能幸免，骨董也化為灰燼。

姥姥一直懊惱自責，每當提及此事，總是後悔不已。如今外祖父已經在天上與姥姥相會，必定會笑著說：妳還是把孩子擺第一，可以丟了骨董，沒丟孩子。(35）

第26節：十里洋場
大上海

民國35年3月初，正是江南春暖花開季節，我們離開南京。搭乘當時的京滬鐵路（南京至上海，全長305公里）夜快車前往上海，中間停靠鎮江、武進(今常州）、無錫、吳縣(今蘇州）。次日清晨七時，到達閘北的上海站。這是我首次坐火車，相當興奮。

來迎接我們的是大我母親七歲的晚輩尹書田夫婦，更驚喜的是二姨及二姨父也在現場，兩夫婦早我們一星期從成都來到上海。

尹書田父子抗戰前，將其紡織廠由青島遷到上海經營，成績卓著。經其安排，我們在徐滙區一個巷弄內暫住，等待船期轉往東北。

巷子內有數戶猶太人，我和大妹跟好幾位猶太小朋友玩在一起，比手畫腳也能溝通。

1938年至1940年間，納粹德國併吞奧地利，猶太人處境危急，尋求各國出境簽證，紛紛被拒。唯獨中國駐維也納總領事館何鳳山總領事網開一面，簽發了1900多份赴上海避難簽證，保住了許多猶太人的生命財產。

何鳳山為中華民國資深外交官，湖南益陽人，生於1901年，卒於1997年，德國慕尼黑大學政治經濟學博士。(36)

百樂門是抗戰之前，上海最知名的遊樂場所，舞池通宵達旦，場內咖啡濃郁，樂隊吹奏著一首接一首的爵士音樂流行歌曲，遊客隨音樂起舞。

吳鶯音、姚莉、白光、周璇、嚴華，常在此助興演唱。

走在大街小巷，商店住家處，隨時都可以聽到78轉黑膠唱片，播放的國語流行歌曲。賀綠汀的《天涯歌女》、《秋水伊人》，黎錦花的《夜來香》、《考紅》、《採檳榔》，嚴工上的《月亮在哪裡》，嚴華的《送君》、《月圓花好》，冼星海的《夜半歌聲》，劉雪庵的《何日君再來》，都是百聽不厭的好歌。

我們在上海期間，常去老城隍廟逛街，品嚐這裡的美食，當時南翔小籠包在此已有名氣。

當年的黃浦江上，還可以看見人工操漿的小船。外灘海關大樓上的定時鐘聲清脆悅耳，遠播十里之外。大世界及石庫門的弄堂遊，都留下了深刻的印象。

有一次坐黄包車，過外白渡橋，到天潼路尹書田家吃餃子，他的妻子李榮新女士包得一手好水餃，餡料是韮黃及蟹肉，另有薺菜素餃。烹調方式獨特，吃起來鮮嫩口爽，至今難忘。

入夜後的南京路和霞飛路（今淮海路)，五光十色的霓虹燈閃爍不停，車水馬龍，人來人往。有軌及無軌兩種電車，奔馳在馬路上，敲打出悦耳的鈴聲。過十字路口時，車頂上的導電桿與電䌫接觸，發出璀燦奪目的火花，構成一幅美麗的風景。

用周璇唱的一首「夜上海」來形容上海的夜晚，最為貼切：夜上海，夜上海，你是個不夜城，華燈起，車聲響，歌舞升平。酒不醉人人自醉，胡天胡地蹉跎了青春。(37)

第27節：綽約多姿
憶江南

前往東北的船期尚有五天，我們這一家包括二姨、二姨夫、舅舅在內共八人，決定利用這幾天，作一次揚州、鎮江、蘇州三地遊。

第一天上午搭乘京滬鐵路火車到鎮江，直接改搭京杭運河木船至揚州，次日折返鎮江停留一日，第三天到蘇州，第四天回上海。

當年行駛京杭大運河的木船，已有馬達驅動。江蘇境內的運河由山東台兒莊入境，經江都(揚州）穿長江到鎮江，沿京滬鐵路至吳縣(蘇州)，沿太湖南流進入浙江，歷程523公里。

揚州是父親於民國24年，初任准尉通信官，實習的地方。駐地在天寧寺，距離瘦西湖很近。唐朝詩人杜牧在揚州留有詩句：「青山隱隱水迢迢，秋盡江南草未凋。二十四橋明月夜，玉人何處教吹簫。」道盡了綽約多姿的江南風貌。

隋煬帝南遊時，曾建行宮於揚州，從此煙花繁華，粉黛笙歌，日夜不絕。所謂「天下三分明月夜，二分明月在揚州。」可見當時揚州的盛況了。

揚州除天寧寺外，還有唐城遺址、大明寺、漢墓博物館、朱自清故居。瘦西湖更是綠柳垂蔭，黃鶯飛舞，荷池飄香，微風送爽，美不勝收。(38)

次日上午我們折返鎮江，這個中國歴史上的文化名城，位於長江、運河、京滬鐵路(今滬寜鐵路)的交會處，是中華民國在大陸時期的江蘇省省會。三國時是東吳的軍事基地，近郊有金山、焦山、北固山，形勢險要，自古即為兵家必爭之地。金山有天險之稱，東晉時謝安破前秦苻堅大軍於此。

金山位於鎮江西北，唐朝時因開山得金，故名，登上金山直驅金山寺。小說白蛇傳內，許仙與白娘娘婚後由杭州搬到鎮江，開了一間藥餔，治癒許多百姓瘟疫，造福鄉梓。法海和尚與白娘娘鬥法，水漫金山寺的故事家喻戶曉。

金山寺內的大雄寶殿，建築別具風格，四方卷棚之上有諸羅漢塑像。寺側有慈壽塔，塔高七層，登高眺望，長江運河盡收眼底，氣勢恢宏。

金山寺另一景點「天下第一泉」是一冷泉，泉水甘醇，可以生飲。叢叢荷花浮於池面，每年春季搶先開花，已逾百年歷史。

隨後登上北固山，今日山下的東昊路東段，是民國24年父親就讀陸軍通信兵團教導大隊，修業習技的地方。

父親舉目眺望北固山下，面對滾滾長江，思緒萬千，八年抗戰十年歲月，往事已矣。南宋辛棄疾曾作「登北固山有懷」：「何處望神州，滿眼風光北固樓。千古興亡多少事，悠悠，不盡長江滾滾流。」此刻此景正是父親的心境。

甘露寺位於北固山麓後峯之巔，京劇中的「甘露寺」有「周郎妙計安天下，賠了夫人又折兵」的故事，就發生在這裡。

北固山下有小販的叫賣聲，用很悅耳的吳語叫着「五香豆子呱呱叫，又香又濃無處找。」母親有十年沒有聽到這熟悉的叫賣聲了，與當年在鎮江唸小學時，校門口那位叫賣五香豆子老先生的聲音幾乎一樣。五香豆子由江南名產蠶豆製成，是老少咸宜喜愛的零食。（39）

母親於民國22年隨姥姥由家鄉山東日照，移居鎮江與外公團聚。住在城東距離運河不遠，今日天橋路附近，是一幢清朝雍正時期的建築。

常聽母親的五姑尹世荃女士，我稱呼她為姑姥姥，講起這幢老四合院內發生過的一些𩆜異事件，讓人聽來毛骨悚然。

民國20年九一八事變後，畢業於保定軍校步兵科六期的外伯公(外公的胞兄）尹世鍇，出任陸軍通信兵團教導大隊中校副大隊長，大隊長係留學美國的電機碩士張汶上校。民國24年，尹世鍇真除為大隊長。

父親於民國22年考入通信兵團教導大隊，24年畢業分發，在鎮江入伍，接受陸軍通信兵職前教育。

父親在隊上年紀最輕，功課又好，有些書卷氣，且機𩆜調皮，頗受長官賞識。有一次，翻牆到營外買鹵味豬腳豬耳朵，與同學分享。不巧被尹副大隊長逮個正著，事情可大可小，長官網開一面，訓斥一番後關了一天禁閉。

尹副大隊長身材魁武，頗有威嚴，綽號叫「大肚子」。沒想到這位被罰的學生，數年後成了他的侄女婿。父親常將這段軼事趣聞，講給我們聽。(40）

第三天上午九時許到達蘇州，在此選擇遊覽獅子林、拙政園、玄妙觀、寒山寺四景點。

蘇州又稱吳縣，又名姑蘇，位於太湖東北，今滬寧鐵路上。春秋戰國時期，吳王闔閭設都於此，乃太湖流域文化、經濟、交通中心。手工刺繡及玉雕馳名，市郊平疇綠野、風光明媚，城中河渠縱橫，水鄉澤國，有「中國的威尼斯」之稱，自古以來就有「上有天堂，下有蘇杭。」的美譽。

出了車站直驅蘇州四大名園之一，建於元朝至正年間（1341-1367）的獅子林。園內有假山洞壑，樓台亭閣，曲徑通幽，水石玲瓏之美，是中國亭園建築藝術之傑作。

隨後至拙政園，也是蘇州四大名園之一，建於明朝嘉靖年間（1522-1566），採東晉文豪潘岳的「拙者為政」之意而命名。園內各式水池林立，亭軒樓閣臨水而築，亭、閣、堂、榭，均為一方之美。

黃昏之前來到玄妙觀，是一座古廟，廟前大街名為觀前街，有如上海城隍廟，各式小吃攤林立，並有南北雜耍表演，是蘇繡、茶葉及土產銷售中心。現在的觀前街夜市，已是蘇州必遊景點，次日再遊寒山寺（41）

寒山寺位於蘇州城西，京杭運河之濱。建於南朝梁武帝天監年間（502-519)。唐代詩人高僧寒山，曾來此住持，因而得名。

唐朝詩人張繼曾有一首情意清遠的詩句：月落烏啼霜滿天，江楓漁火對愁眠。姑蘇城外寒山寺，夜半鐘聲到客船。

這是張繼在一個秋夜，泊舟蘇州寒山寺楓橋附近，寫下的一首情意雋永絕美詩句，讓世人歌詠了一千兩百多年。

父親曾於民國26年「八一三淞滬會戰」時間，駐紮寺內，負責軍事電話總機接駁工作。兩件事情終生難忘：一是危機處理蔣委員長與湯恩伯將軍的通話，二是擊斃兩名剪斷電話線的漢奸。

此次勝利復元，父親舊地重逢，往事回到現實，場景依舊，人事已非，舊情不斷，相思難表。

民國79年(1990年）父母重遊寒山寺，往事已矣，父親在當年的總機房前，留下珍貴照片。

2015年父親已過世多年，母親在病中療養，我與妻及子，遊歴寒山寺，總機房仍在，同一位置拍照留念，追懷父親那段歴史。

前些日子凝視兩張照片，思念起父母雙親。回憶父親口述，我彷彿看見了父親當年的寒山寺。(42）

第三章：數番風雨
飄搖行

中華民族命運多舛，對日抗戰八年(東北同胞十四年），最終我們打贏了一場慘勝的戰爭。全國同胞只喜悅了片刻，內戰卻接踵而至，顛沛流離的生活再度重演，生離死別的故事，持續不斷。兄弟䦧牆，生不逢時，要怨誰，要怪誰，留待歷史裁判。

抗戰勝利後的東北，國共兩黨對抗已趨白熱化，內戰危機勢必爆發。

父親由於家庭背景及個人的軍事養成教育，毅然攜眷前往東北。八年抗戰大後方是我們的家，勝利後的東北，卻成了我們的最前方。

舅舅沒有同行，這年六月與二姨及二姨父去了青島，繼續完成他的高中課程。(43）

第28節：乘風破浪
奔遼原

民國35年3月下旬，我們離開了上海，搭乘前往大連的「中興號」海輪，同船的還有一個工兵營及一個通信兵連的官兵。

在此之前我對大海的知識茫然無知，對海洋充滿好奇，僅僅知道東北是個生産大豆高梁的地方。大輪船鳴笛啓航時，心中充滿喜悅。當年登船的地點是外灘十六鋪碼頭，出了黃浦江經過吳淞口(今洋山港）。外灘風景在落日餘暉下，顯得格外秀麗，有些依依不捨。過了吳淞砲台，就到了長江口，這是東海和黃海的分界處。好奇的是，船過分界線時，清楚地看到黃色的江水，頃刻間變成藍色的海水。遠方的小島，那是佘山，在大海中逐漸消失。沒多久，大船駛入黃海，天色已暗，星星出現了。(44）

船在月夜的大海上，朝向北緯38度，東經121．6度，大連方向行駛，父親在地圖上標出了這個位置。小時候容易記事，從此我學會了在地圖上判讀經緯度、海洋、島嶼、水流、天候。

海風微微吹拂，星月高空熌爍，海鷗伴船飛翔，大船破浪前進，好一個驚艷的航海之夜。

在浩瀚的大海上，太陽從水平面升起的那一刻，艙內的燈火亮了，值更的鐘聲響了，遠方的陸地隱約可見，大連快到了。

船越來越靠近陸地，就要進港了。一位東北老鄉驚訝地說：不對啊，這不是大連港，怎麼到了葫蘆島了。

靠了岸才知道，大連那邊出了狀況，蘇聯軍隊從中作梗，國軍與共軍起了衝突，我們與大連無緣。(45）

第29節：遣俘交接
動人心

葫蘆島今已升格為市，位於遼西走廊，遼東灣西岸，其西南為歷史名城興城（今隸屬葫蘆島市），興城是東北第一古城，明朝時叫寧遠，袁崇煥以紅夷大砲撃敗愛新覺羅努爾哈赤於此。

今日的葫蘆島市，是一座泳裝工業城，製作的優質泳裝佔全球五分之一，每年冬季有頗富盛名的冬泳活動。1954年中國大陸渤海造船廠，在此造成了一艘全球最大的36萬噸礦沙船。

葫蘆島水深港優，入冬不凍，與大連、營口並稱東北三大港口，內戰期間至東北失守，一直在國軍掌控之中。

下船後，我們夜宿港務局員工宿舍，碼頭工人整夜忙於搬卸貨物，灣中有數艘商船，等候進港。

炊事兵首批下船，駐地軍需官送來一袋又一袋的麵粉和高梁米，想不到在東北的第一餐，吃的是蔥油餅和高梁米稀飯。（46）

次日，一個感情複雜終生難忘的場景，出現在大家面前。一艘由國際紅十字會招租來的輪船，駛入港內，碼頭距離宿舍不遠。

午前，一列由瀋陽開來的火車，駛入港區。火車沒有月台可靠，老遠就看到各車箱內，走出不計其數的日本戰俘和日僑。軍階已被摘除，分不清是官是兵，在國軍憲兵的押解下，很有秩序的緩緩走向碼頭。

隊伍經過宿舍，我們看得一清二楚，發現日俘、日僑中，有人手持蔣主席戎裝肖像及書有「德恩難報」的紙板。尾隨其後的是，一群衣衫襤褸的老弱婦孺。1945年8月間，這些日本僑民，被放縱不羈的蘇聯軍人追殺欺辱，四處逃竄，避難於錦州的國軍遣俘遣僑中心。

隊伍鴉雀無聲，各個低頭行進。正因爲政府事前做了宣導工作：任何場所，任何時間不得對日俘日僑，做出仇視及粗暴行為。母親怒視每一個經過的日本兵，想起自己的父親，在南京陣亡，慘遭日軍殺害的那一刻。

70年後的2016年，小兒Anderson與一位日裔同事，交情不錯。這位同事提起他的爺爺，當年在中國戰場上，為日軍當華語翻譯官，經歷過很多不堪回首的往事。中國軍人送到俘虜營當奴工，沒有死在營中，還能看到中國勝利，算是最幸運的了。

當他的爺爺得知，日本無條件向同盟國投降時，先是驚恐，接而嚎哭，續而沉思。證實中國以德報怨，要遣送日俘日僑回國時，身子一直顫抖，流下了感激的眼淚。遣返的船隻駛入鹿兒島時，他卻呆若木雞默默無語。（47）

第30節：大豆高梁
遍地香

我們竟然搭上了遣俘遣僑的那列火車，由北寧鐵路（今京哈鐵路)北上瀋陽，中興號輪船上的官兵，同車轉往長春。車廂簡陋，每車只有少數幾個硬座。中途在錦州、新民兩站停車休息，行駛約五至六個小時，到達瀋陽。

抗戰時期，有許多振奮民心士氣，慷慨激昂的愛國歌曲，《長城謠》、《中國不會亡》、《義勇軍進行曲》，都是那個時候我唱的歌。《流亡三部曲》中的《松花江上》詞曲至今未忘，有時也會在聚會場合，唱上一唱。「我的家在東北松花江上，那裡有森林煤礦，還有那滿山遍野的大豆高梁。」，「哪年哪月，才能夠回到我那可愛的故鄉。」，想不到我們已經踏上東北壯麗的土地了。

列車行進在遼濶的遼南平原上，享受著三月的徐風和艷陽。遠處的高梁田和大豆田，一望無垠，和我在四川時所看到的梯田，景觀截然不同。

入夜後入宿一家旅館，不遠處有一間名為《青年館》的劇院，當時是瀋陽的頂級娛樂場所，兩層樓歌劇院式建築。有一代妖姬之稱的影歌雙棲明星白光，民國35年夏天曾在此館演唱。有當年風靡全國的歌曲《秋夜》、《好時光》、《魂縈舊夢》、《蘭閨寂寂》、《我是浮萍一片》等等，一時轟動了瀋陽各界如痴如醉的歌迷。迴廊上還掛著一幅白光的巨幅照片，旁書杜甫的詩句：此曲只應天上有，人間能得幾回聞。

《青年館》選播的間歇音樂，是約翰史特勞斯的《杜鵑圓舞曲》，僅此一首而已。節奏輕快，百聽不厭。我初識西方古典音樂，是從這個時期開始。(48）

兩天後，父親向新單位陸軍通信兵第九團團夲部出任通信參謀。民國35年6月，接奉軍職外調命令，借調交通部第二交通警察總局有線電大隊擔任中隊長，負責中長鐵路(哈爾濱至大連段，全長944公里)有線電話通訊業務。我們搬進了鐵西區交通部職工宿舍，直到民國37年4月，離開瀋陽為止。

職工宿舍在今瀋陽工業大學附近，佔地約一千餘平方公尺，有兩排日式磚造平房，每排十戶，兩排之間空地，種植櫻花樹和杏花樹各40株。每排住屋均面對一條馬路，相距5公尺，石階而上至大門，我們住在西馬路最前一幢。進門即見榻榻米客廳，隔一厚木板，距離地面約高一公尺，完全配合東北冬季嚴寒天氣而建。(49）

第31節：杏花櫻花
齊開放

四月的瀋陽，桃花、李花、杏花、櫻花各種花含苞待放，五月逐漸開花。在瀋陽有兩次看到杏樹開花結果的整個過程，享受到探果之樂。更看到櫻花萬蕾綻放，速開速落的景象。

杏花、櫻花有相似之處，都在春天開花，先開花後生葉，兩者均有五片花瓣。不同之處，杏花只有單瓣，櫻花有單瓣也有複瓣。杏花花苞為紅色，開花呈粉紅色，將謝時逐漸變白色。櫻花從開花到花謝，顏色不變。日本奈良和京都的櫻花多為複瓣粉紅色，中國東北的櫻花，多呈複瓣白色。

唐宋詩詞中，有許多與杏花有關的句子：如「春色滿園關不住，一枝紅杏出牆來」(宋，葉紹翁）。「借問酒家何處有，牧童遙指杏花村」（唐，杜牧）。「月落子規歇，滿庭山杏花」，「雨後却斜陽，杏花零落香」（唐，溫庭筠）。每個句子都具情思意境，柔婉綺麗。

唐詩中，形容櫻花的句子也不少：「櫻花爛漫幾多時，柳綠桃紅雨未知」（唐，李商隱）。「小園新種紅櫻樹，閑繞花行便當遊」（唐，白居易）。「櫻花樹下送君時，一寸春心逐折枝」（唐，元稹）。「昨日南園新雨後，櫻桃花發舊枝柯」（唐，張籍）。

瀋陽位於北緯42度，寒盡春來已是四月。杏花和櫻花，係喜暖花種，花季比華北來得晚，但晩開的花朵比較艷。

當年少不更事，把盛開的櫻花，撕得粉碎，正因爲它是日本的國花，卻把杏花插在花瓶裡慢慢欣賞。（50）

第32節：以怨報德
無悔意

侵略必敗天經地義，民國34年日本終於嚐到亡國苦果。一場八年抗戰中國損失慘重，國軍徴召兵員1400萬人，傷亡官兵320萬人，將領陣亡上將8人、中將58人、少將239人，人民傷亡1000萬人，南京大屠殺同胞喪生30萬人，人民財產損失300億美元。

政府以德報怨，寛厚待人，保留日皇制度，人道遣返日俘日僑。然而有些日本餘孽，卻不知懺悔，以怨報德。

搬進交通部職工宿舍(原日本南滿鐵道株式會社員工宿舍)後不久，我對高於地面一公尺，椒榻米之下的天地很好奇，總想探個究竟。約了鄰居小朋友一行三人，來了一次探險行動。鑽進一個長寬約40公分的排氣窗內，裡面光線微弱，陣陣寒風，都打起哆嗦來。

發現是一地下儲藏室，內有十餘個木箱，存放一些瓷器、書籍、工具等物。另有一個上了鎖的鐵皮箱，不知內置何物，經宿舍管委會報請警局處理，竟然是步槍手槍等武器。

我與母親在清理衣櫥時，赫然發現驚悚大字「我們數年後會打回來」，另有一塊畫有花邊長約10英吋寛8英吋的紙板，中央上方繪有一面日本軍旗，板內書寫一些日文。

父親請教一位日文造詣很深的同事令尊，也是鄰居的邊老先生翻譯，原來是一首歌詞，用來祭慰失去生命的神風特攻隊隊員的𤫊魂。激勵後繼者，繼續對天皇的效忠。(51)

西元1281年(元世祖至元18年），世祖忽必烈親征日本，途中艦隊遭颶風襲擊，全軍覆沒。日本人相信這是上天遣來的「神風」救了日本，因此二戰時期為自殺飛機部隊取名為「神風特攻隊」。

那面紙板上的歌詞中譯是：「櫻花肖人，非草非木，美麗蝴蝶，便是妻子。櫻花盛開，落英繽紛，隨風而去，永作芳魂。今晨飄飄，明日冉冉，櫻花櫻花，我將效汝」。

現在看來，這種死，死得毫無價值，只是一種對天皇的愚忠，無補於日本一敗亡的命運。由衣櫥中出現的「我們數年後會打回來」的字句看來，戰爭一結束，日本就埋下了軍國主義者復辟的種子。

戰後日本能夠快速從廢墟中復興重建，有着今日的繁華盛世原因很多，歸功於人民的𡚒發圖強，力爭上游，政府善用環境，運籌帷幄。不過在歴史的長河中，未來的日本，綜合其國力，將受大環境的限制，太平盛世將如櫻花一般速開速謝，隨風而去，頂多也就是另一個歐洲的瑞士而已。（52)

一件使我難忘的事，也與日本人有關。民國35年暑假，我考入瀋陽鐵西區中興小學二年級就讀。，開學前與即將成為同學的鄰居小朋友相約到一處農場採摘香瓜，金黃色的皮，肉白味甜，又香又脆。在回家的路上，遇見一對日本男女，年約50歲，雖時近黃昏，但被同學一眼看出，那是山本夫婦，有個兒子是日軍少佐。同學們火冒三丈，拾起石頭向兩人砸去，我一時情急，拿起香瓜當石頭，加入陣營。兩夫婦一語不發，低頭快步閃離。

好巧不巧一粒石頭，正好砸中婦人頭顱，立即鮮血直流，抱頭痛苦地坐在地上。我們雀躍高呼：砸得好，砸得好。

大家又砸向日本男人，他終於用生硬的東北話説出：別砸了，別砸了，快要出人命了。我的兒子都戰死在中國戰場上了，還要怎麽樣，我們下個月就要回日本了。

接下來就是一聲聲：滾回去，滾回去。回想起來，我們也做得過火一些。每當提起這些過往之事，總會聯想到，當年光復台灣，是否也有同樣事情發生。(53)

第33節：滿清陪都
史蹟多

翻開中國的歷史，外來的遼、金異族，興起時都是先攻克瀋陽。清太祖努爾哈赤（1559-1626，享年67歲），打敗明兵後，力排眾議遷都瀋陽。清太宗皇太極（1592-1643，得年51歲）在此練兵調將八年之久，一舉拿了大明江山，定都北京後，將瀋陽尊為陪都。

西元1644年，吳三桂迎清兵入關，清廷開國，皇太極之子愛新覺羅福臨即位，廟號世祖，年號順治，經十朝君主至1911年宣統溥儀退位。孫中山先生領導革命，推翻滿清建立中華民國，清朝入主中國共268年。此其間，清廷在東北的建設不遺餘力。瀋陽成為通往關內的交通中心，集工業、政治、文化於一體，留下了許多燦爛輝煌的史蹟。

清故宮、東陵、北陵、皇姑屯車站、張學良故居，皆成了古蹟景點。

清故宮是除了北京紫禁城之外，中國最大的宮殿。民國17年，國民政府開放供民眾參觀，以原有的收藏為主，成立「瀋陽故宮博物院」。

東陵是淸太祖努爾哈赤與皇后葉赫那拉的陵寢，又稱清福陵。

北陵是清太宗皇太極和皇后博爾濟吉特的安葬之地，也稱清昭陵。

兩處陵墓佈局大同小異，地勢由南向北逐步升高，石板石路，石階而上，紅牆黃瓦，氣勢恢宏，格局大氣。(54)

在瀋陽住了兩年，與父母同遊清故宮一次，與同學結伴遊福陵、昭陵各一次。當年喜歡運動，喜歡郊遊，喜歡下雪後的風景。

我頭戴皮帽，內裡兔毛，身穿羊毛襖，皮在內，毛在外，頗感奇怪。皮帽很像日本兵的軍帽，能遮住兩耳及脖子，不會受凍。

厚重的棉褲，相當保暖，脖子上圍著一條毛線圍巾。一雙棉手套，用一根細繩縫住套口邊緣，套在脖子上，防備好動的孩子，不小心遺失。

腳上蹬著用烏拉草(靰鞡草)壓製而成的雪鞋，富有人家在外層加上一整塊牛皮幫底，鞋前一排縫摺，上有一圈布腰，看來美觀豪氣。

烏拉草雪鞋形如靴子，在冰天雪地裡，走路、幹活不怕凍腳。烏拉草、人參、貂皮，是東北三寶。

雪鞋底下釘上一片鐵皮，在雪地上溜冰，尤其在結了冰的路面上，更好使用。東北小孩個個都是溜冰高手，都能表演高難度動作。冬天雪地溜冰，成了中小學生最喜愛的戶外活動。

在北陵，種植了許多梅樹，臘月時節花朵盛開。民國36年寒假，春節之前大雪之後，相約小朋友們全副冬裝，前往探訪梅花，享受一次踏雪尋梅的樂趣。

我們邊走邊唱那首由黃自作曲，劉雪庵填詞的兒童歌曲《踏雪尋梅》：雪霽天晴朗，臘梅處處香，騎驢灞橋過，鈴兒響叮噹。響叮噹，響叮噹，響叮噹，響叮噹。好花插得瓶供養，伴我書聲琴韻，共度好時光。

當年不知道這首歌的創作，來自唐朝詩人孟浩然，風雪夜騎驢過橋尋梅的故事。

東北鄉間，農民普遍飼養小毛驢，當時如能騎上小驢去尋梅，自有另番情趣。當然也體會不出孟浩然那種寧靜致遠，脫離塵煙，隠逸情趣的生活感受。(55）

清故宮西南五里，青年公園東北，今風雨壇街與熱閙街沿線，當年是瀋陽的商業中心。街道兩旁商店林立，集購物、餐飲、娛樂於一體。街道禁止車輛通行，小販可在街中央設攤售物。

民國35年冬天，我在這裏首次享受到窩窩頭、內蒙羊肉串和老邊餃子的美味。居然也看到了説書、雜耍、拉洋片、日本相撲比賽等稀奇玩意兒。我還買了此生第一張聖誕卡片，聽到聖誕老公公的故事。

我對拉洋片這種民間表演藝術，很感興趣。喜歡聽表演人站在大木箱旁邊，拉動繩索，敲打鑼鼓的聲音：「豈不隆冬嗆，豈不隆冬嗆，冬嗆，冬嗆，冬冬嗆」，以及他的唱詞「嗨，往裡面瞧，向裡面看，瞧瞧這第一張片。臘月寒冬好冷的天，前山飄雪三尺多，後山大雪把路埋。冷得老虎鑽進洞，凍得樵夫下了山」，「豈不隆冬嗆，豈不隆冬嗆，冬冬嗆，冬冬嗆，冬嗆，冬嗆，冬冬嗆」。千變萬化的唱詞，配合畫面，讓人入迷難捨。

1983年6月，這個老舊商場，已擴建成「五愛集貿市場」，與江西南昌的「洪城大市場」，「武漢漢正街市場」，「義烏小商品城」，「長沙高橋市場」，合稱為中國五大集貿市場。(56)

第34節：兄弟鬩牆
內戰起

民國10年(1921年）7月23日，中國共產黨在俄共的扶持下，成立於上海。

北伐期間，中共伺機把持中央爭取主控，滲透黃埔軍校及北伐部隊，中國國民黨逐有民國16年4月的清黨活動。隨後演變成1927年至1937年的國共第一次內戰，長達十年之久。

其間，由國民黨領導的國民政府與共産黨領導的地方政權的鬥爭，由於西安事變的和平解決，而趨於緩和隠化。

民國26年抗日戰爭全面爆發，又給中共一次坐大的機會。八年抗戰期間，中共密令各地區黨部，徹底執行「七二一方針」，七分擴張勢力，二分對付國民黨，一分抗日，企圖成立新中國的目標，從未中斷。

民國34年8月15日，日本向同盟國無條件投降。8月27日，在美國總統杜魯門的斡旋下，促成了毛澤東與蔣介石的重慶會。杜魯門希望毛蔣的會面，能夠促成國共兩黨組成聯合政府，領導一個統一的中國，確保來之不易的抗戰成果，不致淪為內戰。

毛澤東在重慶停留46天，於10月10日簽署了着名的雙十協定，表示對國共合作的誠意。

毛澤東於10月11日飛回延安，向親信談到重慶談判時稱：那只是紙上的東西。(57）

大勢所趨，二次大戰結束後，蘇聯在華有利可圖。1945年4月5日，蘇聯宣布《日蘇互不侵犯條約》不再續約。

127天之後的8月9日，蘇聯向日本宣戰。不到一週，日本於8月15日向盟國投降。隨即進軍東北，佈下陣局，接應預先兵臨東北外圍的中共八路軍、新四軍，先國軍一步接收東北。從此，國共兩軍在東北的軍事衝突，從未間斷。

同年12月，馬歇爾以美國總統特使身分，前往重慶調停。次年(民國35年）1月10日，國共簽署停戰協定，但應了毛澤東的那句話：那只是紙上的東西。雙方衝突由東北開始，更擴至全國。民國36年冬，中共發表由毛澤東起草的《中國人民解放軍宣言》，提出《打倒蔣介石，解放全中國》口號。(58）

民國37年春節過後，詭譎氣氛籠罩著整個東北天空，國軍部隊節節敗退，大批兵力向長春、四平集結，瀋陽安全受到威脅，通往關內的陸上交通，完全中斷，唯一通道只有航空一途。機票一張難求，父親使盡全力，購得一張全票四張半票，將家眷送上飛機。那天是4月5日，我們告別了父親，搭乘了一架C-47運輸機，飛往青島，投奔母親的叔叔尹鼎武（山東省日照縣流亡縣長)。

民國37年2月，東北局勢緊張，父親奉令歸建，出任陸軍通信兵第九團第一營副營長，負責瀋陽至錦州週邊地區作戰任務。

同年7月，解放軍進行長春圍城，長達三個月之久，國軍彈盡糧絕，軍民飢渴而死者，近十萬人。父親奉令馳援作戰，幸運脫困，返回瀋陽。

11月2日，瀋陽䧟共前，通九團團長聶英，暗通共軍，勸父親投靠。10月31日，父親與母親的堂叔，服務於警界的尹超民先生，連夜出城，利用各種交通工具，再加上步行，於11月16日到達北平。

11月29日，國共平津會戰起，長達64天至次年1月31日，北平失守前，經尹作幹將軍協助，父親與尹起民，搭乘同一飛機赴青島，與妻兒團聚。父親至陸軍第50軍軍部第4科，出任少校通信參謀。(59)

第35節：飛越江山
憶故人

民國37年4月5日午後的瀋陽北陵軍用機場，有三班分別飛往北平、青島、上海的飛機。傍晚時分，我們前往青島，乘客個個精神緊繃不發一語。

飛機滑向跑道，發動機的聲音震耳欲聾，加足馬力一飛衝天，像一隻大雁向南方飛去。地上的景物，越來越小，瀋陽逐漸消失在視線之外。頃刻間，想念起瀋陽的家，想念起相處兩年的鄰居，想念起老師和同學。對不可預知的未來，卻不敢想像，這又是另一次的妻離子別。

「屋前煙火欲黃昏，山頭急風來去雲。鷓鴣聲裡數家村，飛越江山憶故人」。此時此刻，俯視雲下的山河，已是烽火狼煙，哪年哪月，才能清光照耀。

當年對日抗戰，浦口一別成了永別，外公南京陣亡，姥姥帶著三個孩子，歴經千辛萬苦，數番暴雨狂風，流浪到了重慶。好不容易，快熬到抗戰勝利，姥姥卻客死異鄉。如今家國不幸，還沒有過上兩年的太平日子，母親卻要像姥姥一樣，帶著四個孩子，走上飄泊流浪之路。

「人似秋鴻無定所，事如煙雲難捉摸」，心中最掛念的是，父親在東北的安危。(60）

第36節：萬般風情
在青島

瀋陽至青島飛行里程為656公里，飛行近兩小時，入夜後到達青島四方機場(今膠東國際機場）。

由機窗遠望，一輪明月高懸，繁星點點，俯瞰地面已是燈火闌珊，正是明月逐人來，星橋燈耀時。

此日天氣溫暖，不同瀋陽四月天，一下飛機就感覺到此地氣候舒適宜人。出了機場，雇了兩部黃色車，直驅北區小港一路28號「慶昌大院」，我的外叔公尹鼎武寓所。一路上，見街道整齊清潔，處處綠蔭夾道，一片蔥蘢，花木扶疏，美景如畫。

開門的人正是舅舅，母親與舅舅見面激動，相擁而泣。

「慶昌大院」佔地約1英畝，磚造平房結構，倉庫住家合而為一。大院主人是尹氏鄉親，在故鄉日照有捕漁船隊，魚獲供應青島週邊城鎮。抗戰期間，日照就淪為中共解放區，他帶領一批親友來到青島打天下，改做糧食生意，成績斐然，商界頗有名氣，他的慶昌大院成了鄕親們初到青島時的暫棲之地。他稱呼我的外叔公為六哥，母親稱呼他為二大爺。

同外叔公一家人住在一起的，還有他的胞妹，我母親的姑姑，我稱呼她為姑姥姥。

母親見到闊別長達12年的叔叔和姑姑時，恍若隔世，嚎淘大哭，滿腹辛酸，一傾而出。當晩，由姑姥姥陪同，至院內謁見至親長輩。(61)

首先晉謁母親的四叔公尹爵生先生，這位曾任日照縣夾倉鎭五屆鎮長的公僕，育有四子二女。民國38年，除長子、次子留在大陸外，其餘均隨政府遷台。三子尹超民是母親的十四叔，服務於警界四十年，歷任省轄市警察局長及督察長。四子尹世鎰是母親的十五叔，歷任苗栗縣政府人事室主任、行政院人事行政局科長、中央造幤廠人事室主任。

另一位是母親的二姑，她是民國初年，中國第一位駕駛軍用飛機，由俄羅斯飛抵中國的飛行員尹子初的姪女。尹子初的弟弟是畢業於保定軍校步科，曾任陸軍第九師師長的尹作幹(字子固)將軍。

次日清晨，整個大院都活躍起來，上班的上班，上學的上學。姑姥姥由一位安姓外甥陪同，帶來餐點與我們共進早餐。有白麵饅頭，豬肉包子，粘粥（用大米精工熬煮成的濃稠稀飯)，火燒(一種用文火燒烤，大如麵碗般的硬燒餅)。

我從來沒有吃過山東人烹煮的粘粥，香氣撲鼻，舒潤爽口。

說起粘粥，有一段佳話。當年，聯合國國際難民組織，撥發了一筆捐款給青島市政府，購買食物給貧民。市府設點，每日淸晨供應粘粥，獲得佳評，濟南、煙台、威海各都市群起效仿。(62)

這天上午，我對這個陌生的環境感到好奇，獨自走到一間大廚房裡，見到一位年約七十歲的老太太，正在製作煎餅。她對我這個從未見過面的小朋友，問長問短，笑容可掬，是一位和靄可親的長者。她一邊烘焙，一邊對我解說，這種山東人喜愛的主食。

她蹲坐在大灶邊，有一大桶麥漿，及一個直徑約60公分，周緣2公分高的圓形大鐡板，燒的是木柴。很純熟地將一勺麥漿，薄薄的平鋪在鐡板上，大約四、五秒鐘，一張香味四溢的煎餅，就製造成了。我第一次看見山東人，將大蔥、甜麵醬、黃瓜捲在煎餅內吃，吃得津津有味。

第二天，在姑姥姥的安姓外甥，我稱呼他為表舅的陪伴下，至管區派出所申報戶口。當年戶籍管制最佳的都市，首推青島。

下午在姑姥姥及表舅的帶領下，看望安置在天門路（今延安路)難民收容中心，表舅的父母親。

表舅跟隨雙親，國共內戰時，逃離解放區來到青島。抗戰勝利後，當時的山東省政府主席沈鴻烈，開闢了這個約有兩英畝土地的難民中心，有如香港的調景嶺。（63)

天門路難民營的居民，來自紅軍解放區，帶有國民黨背景，是批鬥的對象，手法有如文化大革命時的紅衞兵。

姑姥姥的胞弟尹鼎武（尹世銘)是日照縣流亡縣長，常爭取省府及市府經費，到難民營慰問鄕親。日照縣十大家族，安、丁、牟、尹、費、薄、曹、裴、馬、王，這裡都有。

難民營有自治會、診所、郵局、小學。房舍簡陋，生活艱苦，但能安貧，力爭上游，不失鬥志。

抗日戰爭前，時任青島市長的中華民國開國元勳沈鴻烈，將距離滙泉角海水浴場，不遠處的八條馬路，闢建為住宅區。分別以長城關隘命名，以山海關路為首，嘉峪關路為尾，俗稱「八大關」。區內花木扶疏，紅瓦綠樹，碧海藍天，宅舍採花園洋房歐式建築，1980年代，馬路已增至十條，今日已成為觀光酒店區及各國領事官邸。

一個星期天的上午，姑姥姥帶領我們去八大關，謁見母親的五叔公(姑姥姥的五叔)尹東生先生，早年留學德國，曾任山東省立醫專事務主任及國立山東大學醫學院總務主任。其長子尹世銳(母親的十叔)，空軍官校轟炸科九期畢業(昆明)，歴任空軍第十大隊大隊長，松山基地指揮官，第六聯隊聯隊長。娶北京師範大學畢業，曾任屏東女中校長，台北一女中訓導主任及大誠高中創辦人的周人鏡女士為妻。（64)

慶昌大院有一對裴姓姐弟，唸小學六年級和四年級，是尹家的親戚，輩分高我一輩。姐弟倆很熟悉青島小港周邊的環境，當時我輟學在家，盼望每個週末，能一同出遊。

小港始建於1899年(清光緒25年)，位於膠州灣西南大鮑島，其北15公里是青島大港(俗稱青島港)，建於1892年(清光緒18年)，初期有3座碼頭。民國38年，青島撤退時，已擴建碼頭至15座。2017年5月11日，青島港已建設成亞洲首座，全球單體最大的全自動無人操作集裝箱(貨櫃)碼頭。全球吞吐量百大中，名列第8。

慶昌大院距離小港，步行僅10分鐘。當年行人入內並無限制，港內有漁獲拍賣場及魚市場，人潮川流不息。港內可停靠近百艘漁船和兩艘輕噸位客貨輪，有一艘由美製登陸艦改建的小客船《利春號》，定期來往於青島至上海間。

裴姓姐弟教會我，在防波堤上釣海帶。用一根長繩，繋上錨釘，用力拋在10公尺外的海邊岩石附近，錨釘沉入海底，再輕拉上岸，一串串綠色晶瑩的新鮮海帶，就呈現眼前，那份喜悅無言可喻。多半用乾蝦米，配以麻油、醬油、醋、蒜等佐料涼拌而食。

小港一路及小港二路上，可見許多漁船公司。還記得有一幢五層樓建築，白色側牆上書寫約一公尺見方的五個黑色大字「中央信託局」。

中國有三大漁市，青島、沈家門(舟山群島)、海口，屬青島漁市最大最具規模。有良好的冷藏設備，面積兩萬平方公尺，緊鄰小港碼頭。半夜𥚃漁船返航忙着卸貨，凌晨拍賣中心熱閙起來。拍賣員嘴裡唸唸有詞，是一種拍賣口訣，一般人是聽不懂的。買賣雙方各有表情，有的笑容可掬，有的還口出三字經。(65)

住在慶昌大院期間，常跟姑姥姥和母親去漁市場買魚。不在乎提菜籃，純粹是去看熱鬧。去看一看市場內的買賣交易情形，也辨識一下五花八門的魚類形態。

在這個長約300公尺，寛約40公尺的大廳內，邊逛邊看每個攤位，至少也要花上兩個小時。

紅色的花鱸，白色的帶魚，黑白條紋的石斑，藍色的雀鯛，黃海的大黃魚，太平洋的鮪魚，海龜，龜蛋，讓人看得眼花撩亂。

使我最感興趣的是對蝦，有筷子一般長，較大隻的一條就有半斤重。産在黃海，日照縣周邊海域是主要産地，肉實質嫩味美，勝過大龍蝦，是海鮮中的珍品，行進時成雙成對，因而得名。

青島有個釣魚的好地方，位於中山路南端，有一棧橋延伸至青島灣中，長約400米。2012年11月，使用GPS精確測繪，引堤長216米，寛8米。南段透空橋長147．3米，寛11．5米，總長390．5米。始建於1892年（清光緖18年），橋南端有一宮殿式圓型樓閣，為青島著名景點「迴瀾閣」。橋上垂釣者絡繹不絕，走在橋上可以看見遠方輪船川梭灣中。當年還看到兩艘美國軍艦，停在灣中。

我和大妹亭如及裴家姐弟相約到此釣魚，整個下午，人持一竿，頗有收穫。(66）

青島最具特色的就是公園綠地多，較具規模的多達十一處，其中以中山公園及海濱公園最具盛名。

中山公園位於市南區，初建於1901年德國殖民時期，是一座林業植物試驗埸，1912年對外開放。1914年日本佔領青島，將其命名為「旭公園」。1922年青島主權回歸中國，改名為「第一公園」，1929年再度更名為「中山公園」至今。園內有專區果園，每年三、四月間，桃花、梨花、杏花、蘋果花盛開，富林木花草之勝，並附設中國第一座動物園及第一座四季花卉玻璃屋。另有一條長達200公尺的櫻花路，四月上旬萬花奔放，1930年代已頗富盛名至今。2010年代，中山公園每年的客流量，已達200萬人次。

海濱公園建成於1931年，在中山公園西南，沿海邊而建，長達一公里。東臨第一海水浴場，內有中國第一座水族舘(今為青島海洋科技博物館)，園內亭榭、青松、幽徑、花木、碧海、紅礁，兼具園林及自然之美。

我在青島期間，曾三次光臨此地，一次隨父母，兩次隨學校郊遊，至今仍然念茲在茲，盼有重逢之日。(67)

民國37年暑假，舅舅陪我參加插班考試，進入青島私立育英小學就讀三年級。這是我自抗戰勝利後，三年內就讀的第四所小學，沒有完完整整的讀完任何一個學年。直到民國39年9月，進入苗栗鎮大同國小四年級後，至民國51年3月財務學校畢業，前後13年，慶幸能在一個安定的環境下，順順利利完成學業。

戰亂時期的孩子，生不逢時，四處飄泊流浪。我的舅舅，民國26年入小學一年級至民國37年，前後12年，讀了7所學校，斷續跳級唸到高中一年級。這年夏天，大他22歲的堂哥尹德涵，推薦他到顧祝同將軍創辦的揚州祝同中學，繼續唸完高中。

尹德涵時任黃伯韜第7兵團司令部辦公室主任，徐蚌會戰時期授命撰寫黃伯韜絕命書，化裝農夫，與25軍副軍長楊廷宴，夜奔南京，面呈蔣介石總統。

舅舅到了祝同中學後不久，成了流亡學生，與魯東地區各中學師生會合，由各校校長帶領，以行軍方式，邊走邊乞，經江蘇、安徽、江西，前往廣東。民國38年7月初，我們卻在湛江與舅舅見了面。(68）

民國37年11月2日，父親由瀋陽經北平搭機飛抵青島，當天就傳出瀋陽失陷的消息。兩天後，即赴陸軍第50軍軍部第4科，出任少校通信參謀官。

一週後，父親分配到一處位於鐵山路的眷舍，我們搬離居住了七個多月的慶昌大院，姑姥姥也與我們同住。

眷舍原是一間香煙公司廢棄的場房，當時工廠仍在生產卷煙。公司始建於1919年，屬大英煙草股份有限公司，與上海、天津的卷煙廠合稱「上青天」，1976年已遷廠至株州路137號。眷舍內有八戶人家，鄰居是一位曹姓連長，有一兒一女，均在唸小學，我們很快玩在一起。

這家卷煙工廠生產的香煙叫「大前門」，為了促銷，每包香煙內，各置一張水滸傳108條好漢的彩色畫片，集滿全套可兌換菲立普腳踏車一輛。

鐵山路上有一間雜貨店，兼做小人書（連環圖)出租生意，十幾個小小板凳，坐得滿滿的，我和曹家小哥，常去光顧。還記得有《火燒連環船》、《水淹金山寺》、《蘇武牧羊》、《三藏取經》等等。(69)

信號山公園是青島的著名景點，位於市南區中央位置，海拔98米，德國佔領時期，為指揮進出膠州灣的船隻，在此設立發號台。此處風景秀麗居高臨下，可遠眺膠州灣。

有一次表舅帶我們遊信號山，居然也看到民間藝術拉洋片的表演，動作跟瀋陽所見一模一樣。

老頭兒拉起繩打起鼓，唱道：「嗨，細細地看，慢慢地瞧，有位大姑娘在洗澡，解了擺裙脫大襖，細皮嫩肉身材好，小伙子晚上睡不著，俺可管不了」。咚咚嗆，咚咚嗆，豈不隆咚，嗆，嗆。

山東人的詼諧，雅俗共賞的語言，幽默豪爽的個性，表現無遺。

我們還看到一頂大帳篷，裏面擺著二十幾張大長板凳，至少可坐上百餘人。有位傳教士站在篷外拉客人，請入內聽福音。入口處左右各有大大的紅字，「耶穌愛世人」，「信耶穌得永生」。在那個混亂不安的年代，找尋心𩆜慰藉的人，還真不少。

表舅還教我們跳秧歌舞，這種陝北民間藝術，流行於中共紅軍解放區。進兩步，退一步，扭腰擺臀，雙手拿著手絹，左右晃蕩的舞步，還真夠韻味，勁道十足，不知何方神聖編出來的。

秧歌舞的歌詞更絕，應和了時代的需要。如果用山東老侉的唱腔唱出，北方人的豪情，盡在曲中，旋律曾編入北京交響樂團演奏的「黃河交響樂」各樂章中。

歌詞是「達達娘娘不用愁，俺出門子自己走，來了花轎我不坐，扭上個秧歌唱上個歌，唱上個歌」。(達達娘娘，爹爹媽媽之意）。

另有一歌詞是「扭呀扭呀，扭呀扭。一扭扭到十八九，不知婆家哪裡有，俺就跟著八路走，跟著八路走」。(70)

父親來到青島，比起瀋陽時期更為忙碌。民國37年的秋風颳得特別早，11綏靖區的前線，國共兩軍接觸戰不斷，父親一直住在營區。

父親總會抽空回家，看望我們。除了去了一趟中山公園外，還與父親的同事暨家眷，遊覽了一次勞山。勞山又稱嶗山，位於青島以東20公里，海拔1130公尺，山巒重疉壯麗，景色宜人悅目，遍山種植桃樹李樹及梅樹。勞山是中國道教名山，道觀大小11處，尤以上清宮、太平宮、白雲洞最富盛名。上清宮之南，有龍潭飛瀑，遠眺近觀皆宏偉壯觀。

勞山東南40公里的黃海中，有一島嶼，名為塔連島，即傳說中秦始皇認為的蓬萊仙島。當時因交通不便，未能成行，如今可搭遊船前往。

父親喜歡聽京劇，而且當過票友。當年青島有一家永樂戲院，名伶顧正秋駐院演出時，父親曾陪同姑姥姥和母親，兩次前往聽戲。

顧正秋，民國18年10月5日生於南京，民國105年8月21日卒於台北。本名顧祚華，上海戲劇學校畢業，當年才20歲，已有名氣。專攻青衣，《鳯還巢》、《漢明妃》、《三娘教子》是她的叫座戲碼。民國38年，顧正秋去了台灣，想不到台北市也出現了一個永樂大戲院，顧正秋在內駐唱。

有一次表舅帶來一打瓶裝青島啤酒，孝敬姑姥姥，也請大家一起品嚐。青島啤酒中外馳名，用勞山泉水及頂級大麥，加上一種名叫酒花的植物，經過發酵醸造而成，飲後口齒留香。青島撤退時，劉安祺曾帶了一批到台灣，存放在公賣局酒廠，用於招待外賓，823砲戰時，仍有存量。(71）

民國37年9月12日至民國38年1月31日，中共發動三大解放戰役，國軍節節退敗。民國37年10月18日長春失守，11月2日瀋陽、營口䧟共，同日廖耀湘9兵團增援錦州，10萬大軍被圍。11月6日國軍全面撤出東北，遼瀋戰役結束。

民國37年11月6日及11月29日，一個月內，中共二野及三野部隊發動淮海戰役(徐蚌會戰)及平津戰役（平津會戰)，情勢危及青島。

父親決定將眷屬先行送往上海，姑姥姥及尹鼎武(外叔公)家屬共9人，於12月下旬，在一個奇寒的下午，搭乘「江蘇輪」前往上海，我們這個家族，再度踏上流亡之路。

入夜前，父親及外叔公，話別了家人，背影從人群中消失。大輪船起錨鳴笛，緩緩駛離碼頭，正是華燈初上時候。此行去上海，前途未卜。（72)

第37節：上海重逢
兩樣情

民國35年3月下旬，父親以抗戰復元，赴東北接受新職的身分，擕眷由重慶經上海轉赴東北。

勝利後的上海，黃浦江的船隻，穿梭不息，外灘的燈火，光彩奪目，迷人的夜上海，讓人沉醉。

民國26年「八一三淞滬會戰」之後，上海曾淪入日本人之手。正如巴黎被德國人佔領之後，並未影響到它的國際地位，繼續正常發展。日本投降了，我們來到上海，心情是愉悅的。民國37年12月，我們與上海重逢，感覺卻是沉重無比。

也不過是兩年八個月的時間，我們卻為了躲避內戰，繼八年抗戰之後，再度成了飄泊流浪的難民。

四書《孟子》云：國必自伐，而後人伐之。意思是，一個國家必先是自已傷害自己，而後外來勢力乘虛而入。真不願意看到中國之命運重蹈覆轍，苦的是百姓的流離失所無家可歸。

十六舖客運碼頭原貌依舊，前來迎接的是尹書田夫婦及丁肇昌夫婦。次日，我們前往上海西北約15公里的真如鄕下，一個陌生的地方，暫時窩居下來。(73)

母親記得很清楚，民國37年12月22日，也是陰曆冬月22日，又逢冬至，一個奇寒的下午，冬夜最長的一天。我們登上由青島前往上海的「江蘇輪」，孩子們雖然穿上棉衣，但仍然抵擋不住碼頭上的寒風，冷得直打哆嗦。

大人們更加上一層精神上的壓力，此時此刻姑姥姥的侄兒尹德涵，正在徐蚌會戰的戰場上，生死未卜。外叔公的女兒，尹德涵的胞弟，我的舅舅，正走在流亡學生的路途上，情況不明。

來到真如鄉下，沒有電力供應，小收音機派不上用場，要走上20分鐘到小鎮上，買份報紙，了解一下平津戰役及徐蚌會戰的戰況，誰知道報導的是真是假，青島的安危又是如何。

做妻子的，做姑姑的，做母親的，做姐姐的，心中卻是一連串的牽掛，孩子們不時的喊著「想爸爸」。

外叔公尹鼎武叮嚀尹書田，視戰況預做後撤的準備，協助家屬直接到廣州或到台灣。當時，尹書田已做好將上海的紡織工廠，遷廠至台灣的準備。(74）

我們在真如的家，與一條通往上海的公路相去不遠。三排平房呈U字型，缺口朝南，一條小路通往一大片菜園，再往南行是一條小河，河水潺潺，河岸柳蔭。一座木橋連結兩岸，對面是大片竹林，一幅江南景色，呈現面前。距離鎮上小街尚有一段距離，難得去上一趟。房舍未接電力，用的是井水，時逢上海金元券貶值，一日三市，生活䧟於困境，不得不縮衣簡食，節儉度日。

母親的嬸嬸，貴為縣長夫人，也放下了身段，每日與母親同赴竹林，撿拾枯枝落葉，回家當柴燒。我卻背着竹筐，收取一些棄於菜園中的菜幫菜葉，回家烹飪。最有趣的是，到山坡上挖掘野薺菜，拿回家請姑姥姥包餃子，之後數十年，還沒有遇見過，有新鮮薺草餃子可吃。

在真如居住不過三個多月，我再度輟學，最大的收穫莫過於聽姑姥姥講家鄕的故事，和在解放區被批鬥遊街的經過，沒想到都成了我日後撰寫文章的最佳素材。(75)

民國38年1月29日，己丒年正月初一，適逢春節。之前的1月10日，徐蚌會戰結束，黃伯韜、邱清泉殉國。1月14日，天津失守，同日毛澤東向政府提出八項條件，要求南北分治，國共合作平等共管。1月21日，蔣介石在輿論的壓力下引退，李宗仁代理總統職務。

事態發展至此，華北愁雲慘霧，國軍䧟入苦戰，中共軍已挺進至淮河以南，長江北岸，並積極擬定作戰計劃，渡長江取南京奪上海。這年，我們渡過了一生中，最不太平的新年。

民國38年3月，江南天氣仍然寒冷，空氣中瀰漫著一股濃濃的肅殺之氣。住家附近的公路上，打破沉靜，連續數日，運兵車不斷向上海外圍集結。坦克車的屣帶壓在碎石子路面，發出咯吱咯吱的聲音，像一群飢渴疲憊的獅子，朝天咆嘯。我們意識到，上海將有戰事。

一個週末的下午，我們接到外叔公和父親的聯名電報，囑「即刻離滬，速回青島」。在當時的情勢下，尹書田已安排我們南遷，為何作此決定，想來必有原因。(76）

民國38年春節過後，尹書田就工廠南遷一事，進行規劃。在諸多因素的考量下，在海南島、廣州、台灣三地中，他選擇去了台灣。

我們卻因外叔公及父親的一通聯名電報，未能與尹書田同行，折返了青島。

民國38年4月3日，我站在利春輪的甲板上眺望外灘，在斜陽的催航下，上海逐漸消失在視線之外。辭別了真如鄉下，一個有著我人生歷練，留下深刻記憶的地方。

1998年我自巴拿馬移民洛杉磯，在一項回顧上海歴史攝影作品展中，我在1949年時的外灘照片前，回想起當年搭船離開黃浦江時的情景，心有所感，作了一首七絕抒懷：黃浦江上白雲間，愁見孤城落日邊。吹笛何須怨楊栁，重逄時日待何年。

總以為此生再難回到上海，幸福之神給了我機缘，65年後的2014年，小兒Anderson外派上海工作，三年之內我和妻，去了上海四次。（77）

第38節：風雨飄搖
辭鄉土

民國38年4月4日，利春輪於清晨時刻，駛進青島外海，右前方大公島上的燈塔，斷續地閃著強光。青島，我們又重逢了。

外叔公、父親、表舅在碼頭邊迎接我們，眼前是我熟悉的青島小港。不遠處的漁市場，仍然人進人出，熟悉的街道，熟悉的店面，熟悉的環境，是如此的親切。

在鐵山路上的眷舍，軍方已分配其他人居住。我們又進住慶昌大院，原來住過的地方。

次日在表舅的陪同下，我再度回到育英小學報到。學校並沒有因為我缺課太多而刁難，順利復課讀三年級下學期。

在慶昌大院沒住上一個月，父親的長官，時任十一綏靖區作戰處的翟處長，其內侄因時局不穏，要結束青島商務，不巧又遇上翟處長母親過世，兩人回香港奔喪。在江蘇路上的一幢西式洋房，一時未能賣出，希望我們暫時遷入。四月底我們搬進了這幢洋房，房子在一小山坡上，有24個石階通往坡下馬路。落地窗戶，家具新穎。室外花木扶疏，景觀宜人，𣾀泉海灣盡收眼底。翟處長尚未銷假，青島就撤退了。

翟處長治軍嚴厲，對部屬決不縱容，但愛䕶有加。他對先父極為賞識，要求也特別嚴格。有一次當着衆人面前，將父親所擬公文丟在地上，要求重寫，總有三個來回。父親對比初擬及改批後的公文，確實是多一字不可，少一字不行。因此父親的公文簽擬作業，是全軍最優秀的少數之一。(78)

巧的是，母親的堂姐尹德淑（尹德涵的胞妹)就住在江蘇路的海關宿舍內，距離我們的新家近在咫尺。我稱呼尹德淑為大姨，大姨父丁肇箎服務於財政部海關總署。我們在上海真如期間，由蘭州調職青島。

大姨父有兩個堂弟，一是在上海當醫生的丁肇昌，一是在美國的丁肇中，得過1976年諾貝爾物理奬。大姨及大姨父英語文均佳，結識了不少外國朋友。

我們由上海返回青島後不久，鐵山路附近的一座美軍營房，一夜之間被激進的職業學生聚眾包圍洗劫一空。肇因於數位高中女生，被美國大兵強暴污辱。趁機再一次掀起了民國35年12月的北大女學生沈崇事件。

未多久，大姨的一位同學，是美軍太太，先生服役於美國第七艦隊。倉促地在電話上與大姨話別，當晚就與先生，隨單位去了日本冲繩。

民國38年4月的青島機場，飛機起落頻繁，華北地區政府機關人員，均往青島異動，種種跡象顯示，靑島即將撤離。

民國37年11月，東北遼瀋會戰結束，11月2日及6日，瀋陽、錦州相繼失守，三天後解放軍佔領東北全境，內戰戰場移至華北，平津戰役及徐蚌會戰同時爆發。危機當前，為保存實力，層峯隨即草擬撤離青島戰略計劃，其內容之縝密，執行之確實，人員撤離除八萬精兵外，還包括各領域專家學者近兩萬人，目的地去台灣。

青島撤退是中華民國國軍戰史上輝煌的一頁，被世界輿論形容是：可以媲美，繼敦克爾克大撤退之後，又一次成功的戰略撤離。(79)

民國38年5月28日，父親匆忙地回到家，叮嚀母親收拾衣物整理文件，一切輕便從簡，等候軍方指令，隨時準備上船，隨後趕回部隊。

沒想到這一天，卻成了我在育英小學最後一天上課，最後一堂課是音樂。老師姓劉，記不起她的名字了。她神色凝重，走進教室。點完名後沒有立即教課，卻問同學有多少人要離開青島，28位同學將近三分之一舉手。她教唱了一首取材於德孚札克《新世紀交響樂》的世界名曲《念故鄉》。

唱著唱著，老師哽咽落淚唱不下去了。老師說出了她的一段經歷：八年對日抗戰，日本人還沒來青島之前，她辭別了爹娘，前往大後方，一面讀書一面工作，完成大學學業，好不容易捱到抗戰勝利回到青島，父親卻過世了。如今時局吃緊，母親年邁又在病中，我不能再一次離鄉背井，必須留下來照顧媽媽。

因有諸多因素的考量，走與留之間，困擾著太多的家庭和個人。一位市立普濟醫院的主治醫師，認為共産黨不會拿他怎麼樣。另一位海事學校的教員卻說，共產黨也不是洪水猛獸，怕什麼。但是大多數有著國民黨背景的人，不走也不行。感嘆咱們中國人，為何一直重複扮演著這種聚散離合的悲劇戲碼，哪年哪月才能罷休。

秦觀寫了一首傷離的詞：此去何時見也，襟袖上，空染啼痕。傷情處，高城望斷，燈火已黃昏。

數十年後，台灣開放大陸探親，傷情啼痕的情景，已屢見不鮮了。（80)

姥姥有一位侄孫于景春，民國38年與其舅舅隨軍撤退至台灣。當年僅14歲，在部隊裡當了一名傳令兵，經過「國軍隨營補習教育」，獲得高中學資，考入陸軍官校。退役時已官拜上校，育有一兒一女。五十年後的民國88年，與妻小返鄉探親，母親已高齡九十，雙目失明。

于景春雙膝下跪，依偎在母親懷裡，一聲「娘，我回來了」隨後放聲大哭，哽咽地說「我帶著妳的媳婦和孫子回來看妳了」。

老媽媽的手，觸摸着兒子的臉，久久顫抖不停，說道「好，好，回來就好」，「孩子們，來，來，讓我來摸摸你們」。

當天，走往一處山坡，看到的是父親的一座孤墳。

追憶往昔人生淒愴，恍如隔世。寫下詞句：五十年生死兩茫茫，不能忘，常思量。爹娘，爹娘，年年斷腸。千里孤墳，省親日，短松岡，話淒涼。(81)

第39節：關鍵一戰
振軍心

中國有三大半島，分別是山東半島、遼東半島及雷州半島。在軍事防衛上，半島難攻易守。青島位於山東半島之南，又是半島中的半島，三面環海，北有群山，佔有地理上的優勢。

青島撤離前，十一綏靖區司令長官劉安祺，就設下三道防線，用以抵制解放軍的進撃，延緩解放青島的步伐，為撤退青島爭取更多的時間。

民國38年春節過後不久，一場事關青島撤退的戰役，發生在城陽防線，支援防務的270師808團，打了一場成功的殲滅戰。

戰役發生前，情資顯示，即墨週邊解放軍，頻繁集結。研判數日內，共軍將發動戰爭。國軍即刻進入緊急狀態，嚴陣以待。劉安祺指令素有「活閻王」之稱的「808魔鬼兵團」黃團長，擔任此役指揮官。

某日破曉時分，果不其然，解放軍在陣前1000公尺處，步入攻擊發起線。黃團長嚴格規定，不得躁進，沒有他的命令，絕不可擅自開火。

解放軍逐步向前推進至900公尺，800公尺，直到500公尺射程範圍內，國軍仍然不動聲色。挺進至400公尺，300公尺，200公尺，國軍還是紋風不動，緊張氣氛令人窒息。

進入100公尺範圍，解放軍開始衝鋒，黃團長一聲令下，機關槍、迫擊砲、手榴彈，全線齊發，加以揚聲器助陣，殺聲震天。解放軍全軍覆沒於陣前，無一兵一卒幸免。

此次戰役，各營級以上主官受邀觀戰，先父是作戰處通信參謀官，亦在觀戰之列，見證了戰役經過。之後數月，解放軍不再輕舉妄動，越雷池一步。為日後的青島撤退，提供了有利的條件。(82)

第40節：重編密碼
逆轉勝

民國38年2月初的一個星期五，當天適逢立春。十一綏靖區司令長官劉安祺，召集團級以上部隊長及相關人員，在青島仙家寨50軍司令部舉行擴大軍事會議。開會時間訂在上午十時，開會前10分鐘，各出列席人員全部到齊。

會議時間已過15分鐘，仍不見劉安祺出現，卻接到一通電話，司令座車拋錨，會議延後一小時，於是各員在附近活動，舒展筋骨。

豈料就在此時，從天飛來兩枚砲彈，正好落在會場，造成九名軍官輕重傷不幸事件，劉安祺躱過一刼。

劉安祺趕到現場，卻見一片狼藉。第一時間召見先父，劈頭就問：陳參謀，你吒搞的，我差點沒命呢。為啥咱們的一舉一動，共產黨弄得一清二楚呢？你倒說說看。

先父回答：可能我們內部有匪諜，通信密碼已落入敵手。

劉安祺説：我也這麼想，你可以改密碼嗎？

回：我可以改，但密碼是國防部頒發的，屬極機密，我不能擅自更改。

劉安褀動火了，爆了粗口：去他奶奶的，什麼國防部不國防部，將在外君命有所不受，你懂嗎？你給我改，後天此時交卷。言後，恕氣沖沖的拂袖而去。

這天，先父通宵達旦，用他自己的方法，將常用字、軍事俗語、部隊番號，作了關鍵性的更改。經過反覆核對，認為確實沒有問題後，按時繳了卷。

經批可後，先父由一名保防官陪同，將新密碼，以專車送達各部隊主官。同時全軍啓動《迅雷演習》，訓令洩密者，以戰時軍法處理。

這份經過更改的密碼，並沒有向國防部報備，自啟用後，一直到青島撤退，解放軍始終無法破密。(83）

第41節：流亡學生
話傷感

民國37年8月，在青島「日照臨時中學」就讀初中的尹無愧（母親的堂妹，外叔公尹鼎武的長女）辭別了父母，轉學至揚州祝同中學，與就讀高中的兩位堂哥同學。

未料徐蚌會戰爆發，祝同中學與山東、安徽、江蘇七所中學，臨時組合成「八大聯中」，開始避禍遷校。八所學校路經濟南、徐州、蚌埠等地，沿途整合至南京，完成會師。

這支有著兩千餘名師生的隊伍，長途跋涉兩千餘公里，行經魯、皖、蘇、贛、閩、粵六省，吃盡人間辛苦，走過艱險難路，最終流亡至澎湖，再轉往台灣。

行動前經過精心策劃，一切前置作業後勤支援，都在節約原則下行事。各校校長及教職員帶領學生，高年級生協助低年級生，沿途相互照顧。

時光彷彿回到抗日戰爭時期的學校大遷徙，流亡學生餐風露宿，顛沛流離的歴史再度重演。(84）

這支學生隊伍雖係臨時編組，卻紀律嚴明。由各校派出專人組成聯絡組，專責前置作業，協調沿途地方政府、機關、學校、部隊，給予支援。另組成後勤組，負責粮粖運輸，醫療護理。

學生大隊分四個支隊，各組各隊配備手槍、步槍，作必要防備。炊事起灶，紮營拔營，各隊自理。流亡之路，繞過中共華北八大解放區的淮北、蘇北兩區。

整合後的隊伍，自南京出發，順原京贛鐵路（今京九高鐵支線），沿長江東岸進入安徽，到達蕪湖已是民國38年1月6日，這天適逢戊子年臘月初八，節令小寒。再過四天的1月10日，徐蚌會戰結束。

經過長途跋涉，隊伍紥營國立安徽大學（今安徽師範大學），休息一天後，繼續行程。（85）

1月8日，學生隊伍離開蕪湖，距離出發日已整整兩個月，較預定行程晚了許多，沿途雖安全無虞，卻有糧食危機。唯有就地採購，樽節開支，雜糧、地瓜、芋頭、豆腐、白菜、蘿蔔，能夠果腹充飢即可。

隊伍仍沿長江東岸，向西南行，經銅陵，貴池(今池州）入境江西。預計1月20日可達九江。

1月17日近黃昏時刻，路過一個名為香口的小村莊，距離目的地彭澤縣城，尚有一段路程，只好紥營，次日續行。

一場突如其來的大雨，來得不是時候，帳篷進水，個個成了落湯雞。天氣又冷，肚子又餓，埋鍋做飯已無可能。

當務之急，驅寒取暖，充飢飽肚。在此荒郊野外，即無生火之柴，更妄想喝上一杯紅糖生薑水，防止感冒。

總得想個法子，出去找找看。我的兩位舅舅（尹德滋及尹德浩），會同數位同學，向小村子走去。也顧不得那麼多了，挨家挨戶敲門，向大嬸大媽說明身分，乞討一些飯渣剩菜。

村子裡的人很親切，大碗大碟地往同學們的飯盒子裏裝，紅糖生薑也有了。回程在樹林子裡，撿拾一些枯枝碎木，回到帳篷。這晚，大家吃了一頓五味雜陳的晚餐，有人狼吞虎嚥，有人眼涙落在碗裡。（86）

1月20日，學生隊伍進入江西省境，到達九江，要在這裏停留兩日。男女生分別在一間中學的大操場及大禮堂紥營。

第二天晚間，為了紓解連日來的勞累，舉辦了一次月光晚會。

一位高年級的同學用口琴吹奏了一首由夏之秋作曲，任天道作詞的抗戰歌曲《思鄉曲》。純熟的琴技，動人的旋律，緊扣同學們心弦。大家附和着口琴聲，低吟地唱出：月兒高掛在天上，光明照耀四方。在這個靜靜的深夜𥚃，記起了我的故鄉。

抽泣聲來自一些女同學，都想家了。無愧姨（舅舅的堂妹）哭出聲音了，對舅舅說：三哥，我想家，我想爹娘。

她跟德浩舅一樣，臉色發白，發著高燒，咳嗽不止，顯然是前些日子的一場大雨，受了風寒。

當晚，無愧姨及德浩舅均高燒不退，緊急送醫。醫生囑：必須住院留診。

次日，學生隊伍繼續行程，舅舅卻留了下來照顧，痊癒出院已是五天以後的事了，三人無奈地退出了流亡行列。搭車到濟南轉往青島。

這支隊伍於1月28日，戊子年除夕前一天，到達南昌。(87）

民國38年1月28日，戊子年除夕前一天，隊伍首梯次到達南昌湖濱公園紥營，除夕日第二梯次進駐中山公園（今八一廣場），兩地隔著一條建於民國17年的安石路(今八一大道）。

除夕夜同學集中在中山公園渡除夕，在營火中、歡樂中、吃水餃渡過。

除夕聚餐中，張敏之校長以「信心的飛躍」和「生命的考驗」來激勵同學。另一位鄒鑑校長，則以孟子所說：「天降大任於斯人也，必先苦其心志，勞其筋骨，餓其體膚，空乏其身，行弗亂其所為，所以動心忍性，增益其所不能。」來鼓勵同學。

1月31日，這支學生流亡隊伍，重新編組，分成兩個支隊。一支順贛江南下，經贛縣（今贛州），過梅嶺關，入境廣東，經曲江，到達廣州，後搭船去了台灣。

另一支塔火車至鷹潭，順鷹廈鐵路入境福建至廈門，經金門到達澎湖。(88）

第42節：飄洋跨海
過台灣

民國38年5月下旬，招商局旗下一支有着15艘商船的龐大船隊，奉令駛進膠州灣，停靠在青島大港各個碼頭待命。

5月31日，將近傍晚，一輛軍車停在家門前，母親帶著我們，與事先聯絡好的大姨父一家三口加上舅舅，上了車直駛碼頭，停靠在海宿輪旁，等候上船。

那晚，船上船下燈火通明，戒備森嚴，部隊、物資、軍眷、民眾，很有秩序地逐次上船。有一隊炊事兵，挑着籮筐，連同鍋、碗、瓢、盆一起上了船。

我們被安置在一輛十輪大卡車上，航行期間就生活在這輛車上。安排後，父親就急忙下了船，回到司令部作戰處。

外叔公尹鼎武，這位日照縣長，昔日的抗日游擊司令，如今是32軍獨立旅上校副旅長，帶着他的子弟兵，連同他的眷屬，上了海牛輪。（89）

民國38年6月1日星期三，我們在船上渡過端午節。外叔公的岳母呂老太大，為我們帶來了粽子、煎餅、饅頭和茶葉蛋，我們享受了一次航行中最豐盛的一餐。

6月3日星期五，日落後，國共內戰史上最亮麗的一次青島大撤退，一聲令下，開始行動。最後一個步兵旅和一座電台，一面打仗，一面撤退。接應的船隻正是海牛輪，也是載運國軍最後駛離青島港的一艘船。在此之前，船隊已於兩小時前，駛入青島外海。兩艘驅逐艦，在海面掩護地面部隊，撤離上船。當時的中共還談不上，有作戰能力的海軍。

這一支船隊，搭載了近八萬名精兵，一萬多名各界精英，航行了833海里（1543公里），每小時以25公里的航速，全程62小時，駛抵基隆港。（90）

船隊平穩地行駛在一望無垠的黃海上，船與船之間保持著一定的距離。部隊不像在陸上那樣，有空間活動，都在半靜止狀態，唯獨通信及政工部門，仍在忙碌。

司令部所屬一級單位，設在海宿輪上，為船隊指揮中心，電台與海軍䕶航艦艇及各單船之間，保持24小時聯繫。政工官分別到各座艙內，講述中國近代史、中共竊國史及軍歌教唱。

船隊過了黃海，進入東海海域，行程走了一半。船隊正通過舟山群島，船尾有海鷗跟隨。當時舟山群島，仍有國軍駐守。

在月色中，星星顯得格外明亮，遠方漁船，點點燈火，像一條遊走海上的金龍。

伙房一日供應三餐，餐餐豆腐乳、花生米、蘿蔔乾、小魚乾，為了果腹，別無選擇。台灣鳳梨罐頭，在船上還是首次吃到。

我向大姨父請教，台灣有什麼出產。回：生産可多了，香蕉、甘蔗、稻米、鳯梨、西瓜，多得數不清。

台灣有什麼好玩的地方。阿里山、日月潭、關子嶺、碧潭、陽明山，多得講不完。

抗日戰爭期間，小學的課本上有「台灣糖，亮晶晶，甜在嘴裡，痛在心。」的句子，那是我初次對台灣的粗略印象。

1950年代有一首台東民歌，由羅家倫填詞的「台灣好」，由張琪唱出，民國70年代被鄧麗君唱出了韻味，曲調輕快悠揚，歌詞反映出當年的寶島台灣。對比今日台灣，感慨萬千啊。「我愛台灣同胞呀，唱個台灣調，海岸線長山又高，處處港口都險要，四通八達有公路，南北有鐵道，太平洋上最前哨，台灣稱寶島。四季豐收蓬萊稻，農村多歡笑，白糖茶葉買賣好，家家戶戶吃得飽，鳳梨西瓜和香蕉，特産數不了，不管長住和初到，同聲齊誇耀。阿里山峯入雲霄，西螺建大橋，烏來瀑布十丈高，碧潭水上有情調，這也妙來那也好，什麼最可驕，還是人情濃如膠，大家心一條。」。(91)

經過近60個小時的航行，6月6日拂曉，太陽從海平面升起。船隊駛入彭佳嶼海域，距離基隆港尚有兩小時航程。

此時甲板上、船欄邊、船頭、船尾全站滿了人。

和平島在望了，過了和平島就是基隆港。船速慢了下來，緩緩駛入港區，進港時下著細雨。港區四周山嶺環抱，形勢天成，青山翠綠，風景宜人。碼頭建設，媲美青島。

部隊先行登岸，數十輛軍用大卡車輪番運送部隊進駐營區。我們一家人則住進了火車站對面的一間旅館。

這天晚上，一夥人相邀上街找個飯館，享受一次基隆的海鮮大餐，看看基隆的夜景，舒解一下連日來的疲憊。

走出旅館，看見行人個個腳蹬木屐，走起路來咔嗒咔嗒作響，活像馬兒散步的聲音，清脆悅耳。我們信步走到附近一家餐館門前停下，斗大的霓虹燈在閃爍，招牌上寫著「情願來酒家」，大家都笑了起來，大姨父說道：這個名字取得好，取得好。

是一棟兩層樓的店面建築，看來不像吃飯的地方。大姨父問了問站在門前的小夥計，「這𥚃有飯可吃嗎？」。「有，有，有吃飯，有喝酒。請進，請進。右手邊上樓，就是情願來酒家」。

走上樓梯，大姨父打趣地說：「借問酒家何處去，小夥手指情願來」，大家哈哈大笑。原來在台灣，酒家就是有酒可喝的風月場所。既來之則安之，反正是純吃飯，況且還帶著家眷，老婆大人盡可放心。

上了樓，一位中年婦女走了過來，見我們一群人中，有女士也有小孩，覺得奇怪。問道：先生，是來吃飯的嗎？父親回答：是的，我們純吃飯。

我們被安排在靠窗的一張大圓桌前，可以看見窗外的港灣夜景。

我們請老闆娘介紹一下台灣菜的特色，上了一些招牌海鮮和時菜。沒想到有四位打扮入時，身穿高衩旗袍，儀態不俗的小姐，來為我們服務，簡直伺候得無微不致。在這種情況下，父親給了每人一枚袁大頭小費。她們可樂了，一再說：謝謝，謝謝，下次再來。

回到旅館夜已深了，聽到外面有竹笛的聲音，是一位討個溫飽，做按摩生意的盲人。還聽到沿街叫賣的小販，出售熱肉粽子的吆喝聲。（92）

我們走在基隆市的街道上，看見道路以忠、孝、仁、愛、信、義、和、平命名，再配以數字。例如忠一路、孝三路、仁五路、愛六路，認起路來，就方便多了。

要說日據時代，全台各地路名最難記的，首推基隆。老一輩的基隆人，住了20年，仍然記不起來，不知那條接那條。台灣光復後，政府將其更改，沿用至今。其中有一條愛八路，引起爭議，跟愛八路軍有關，這條路已更名為劉銘傳路。

劉銘傳（1836-1896）生於安徽合肥，是淮軍的著名將領和台灣巡撫，洋務派骨幹之一。擔任巡撫期間，1887年（光緒13年）興建中國第一條，以載客為主的鐵路，首段基隆至台北。

在基隆，我們停留了十天左右，趁機遊覽台北市附近景區，碧潭、烏來、陽明山等。部隊整補後，於六月中旬，隨軍搭原船，開赴廣東省雷州半島東北方的湛江市，舅舅也與我們同行，大姨父一家留在台灣，去了海關總稅務司署工作。外叔公一家人，也跟隨部隊，駐防海南島。(93)

第43節：南國椰林
舞婆娑

民國38年6月16日清晨，我們再度搭上海宿輪，仍然住宿在原來的卡車上。由於少了大姨父一家人，生活空間大了許多，所見的依然是熟悉的面孔和熟悉的環境。

船起錨了，一聲鳴笛緩緩駛離基隆港。基隆，後會有期。

此行目的地是廣州灣的湛江，航程660海里（1222公里），兩天兩夜後到達，一路平順，並沒有遇上南中國海常有的巨風大浪。

船駛經澎湖外海，漁民作業近在咫尺。澎湖由大小64個島嶼組成，是台灣海峽的咽喉，地勢險要，戰略上佔有重要位置。

船駛經東引、馬祖、烏坵、金門，出海峽，進入南海海域。

南中國海，白天陽光熾熱，黃昏夕陽艷紅，夜間星月爭輝，碧海藍天海風輕送，海鷗白雲伴船而行，南海月夜讓人沉醉。

舅舅是一位小提琴愛好者，拉得一手好琴，他走向船欄，望着大海星月，奏出一首俄羅斯作曲家雷姆斯基珂莎可夫(Rimsky Korsakov 1844-1908)的「印度之歌」。曲子的中譯是：那遙遠的南方國度，有無窮的寶藏深藏海中，美人魚住在那裡，鳥兒也在飛舞。在碧海深處，在光輝燦爛的島嶼之中，動人的歌聲不停地唱著，聽著動聽悅耳的歌，在碧海藍天深處。(94）

在一些愛樂者的催促下，舅舅又演奏了一首普西尼（Puccini 1858-1924，義大利作曲家）的「星光閃耀」：星光閃耀，大地飄香，田園的門吱嗝作響，腳步輕輕撫過沙地上，她帶著陣陣幽香，投入我的懷抱，甜蜜的吻，深情的愛，我顫動地揭開那遮住美麗軀體的薄紗。

是一個黎明時刻，船隻進港鳴笛的聲音，驚醒了我們的睡夢。滿天星斗牽引著藍色的天空，左前方燈火點點，連成一串，遠望過去像一串閃爍的真珠，又像天空中的一道銀河。

海濱大道與航道平行，在微光中，海濱大道的椰子樹，在海風吹拂中婆娑起舞。太陽從右前方的樹叢中，緩緩升起。清晨的湛江，披上了一層薄紗，甦醒在淡淡的朝霧之中。

湛江，舊名廣州灣，1883年(清光緒9年)，中法戰爭後，中國外交失利，法國強行租用廣州灣99年。

62年後的1945年，抗日戰爭勝利，中華民國收回廣州灣，更名為湛江。(95）

中華民國在大陸時期的湛江，分為西營、東營兩部份，有如上海浦西和浦東。西營為都會區，東營為農業區，兩者有很明顯的區別。

當年的湛江港為一等港，港內水域寛闊水深浪靜，深及20公尺，但碼頭設施不足，萬噸以上船隻，無法靠岸，必須拋錨灣中，旅客、貨物由駁船接駁上岸。

部隊、車輛、裝備，由海軍運補小艇接往東營，眷屬隨司令部一級單位，被安排在西營。我們暫時住在濱海大道上的一間旅館內，等待軍方分配眷舍。

今日的湛江，全市面積1．32平方公里，人口754萬(2018年)，是中國大陸唯一的熱帶海濱城市。中共建政後，1983年東營成為湛江市的坡頭區，東接吳川，西靠湛江灣，南臨南海。1984年11月29日，中共國務院核准成立「湛江經濟技術開發區」，是中國沿海14個開發區之一，昔日的農業區，面貌一新，成了工業生產園區。今日的湛江港也是中國十大貨櫃港之一，而且是重要軍港，南海艦隊總部所在。（96)

六月下旬的湛江，已經進入夏季，陽光普照烈日炎炎。駁船還沒有靠岸，就看見一群小童，光著身子，在沙灘上淺海中嬉水追逐。街上行人，衣著樸素，年輕女士小姐，個個都紥著一根長可及臀的大辮子。

我們住進市標大鐘樓附近的一間旅館，旅客進出頻繁，聽到的全是廣東話。想不到我的廣東話，卻是向一位湛江人學的，其人係吾妻吳秀蓮。

梳洗後，一家人去逛街吃飯。父親在櫃檯換了一些零錢，一塊錢鉛銀(有帆船圖案）可兌100個銅板，一小紙筒20個。打開一看，相當驚訝，卻是清朝的錢幤。有廣西省鑄造的道光通寶，雲南省鑄造的光緒通寶，江西省鑄造的宣統通寶。

「有沒有搞錯，是什麼年代了，還用這種錢」，櫃檯先生笑了，說道：這是省政府財政廳想出來的好點子，近兩年來物價飛漲，一日三市，紙幣成了廢紙，逼得大家要跳樓。老銅錢能夠在巿面上合法流通，既可保值，又可懷古。

我們順著海濱大道往南行，法國式的房屋建築，襯托在藍天碧海之中，幽美靜謐的景緻，有如置身於歐洲某一個海濱都市。

再往西南方走去，信步來到一間電影院前，正上映著于素秋的《荒江女俠》。被戲院前的水果攤、小吃攤吸引，每個攤位都置一盞氣燈，光亮四射。有現削零售的鳳梨和椰子水，更有荔枝、龍眼、釋迦，烤香腸、酥炸蝸牛，讓你目不暇給。(97）

我在連環圖裡，看到唐玄宗的愛妃楊玉環，喜歡吃荔枝，派人遠從嶺南騎加急快馬，一站接一站，將新鮮荔枝遞送至長安的故事。在此之前，我沒有見過荔枝的模樣，來到湛江終於看到它的真面目。

杜牧有一首詩，形容當年送荔枝到長安的情形：「長安迴首繡成堆，山頂千門次第開。一騎紅麈妃子笑，無人知是荔枝來。」一國之君竟然為了一位妃子愛吃荔枝，旨令專人從産地，每日傳遞三千里至京城，真是荒唐至極。

北宋詩人蘇軾，因文章詩作獲罪入獄，眨至嶺南，嚐到荔枝美味。以《荔枝嘆》一詩借古諷今：「十里一置飛麈灰，五里一堠兵火催。顛坑仆谷相枕藉，知是荔枝龍眼來。飛車跨山鶻橫海，風枝露葉如新採。宮中美人一破顏，驚麈濺血流千載。」詩中提及龍眼，推斷楊貴妃也喜吃龍眼。龍眼又稱桂圓，樹形與荔枝相似，皆屬無患子科常綠中喬木，亞熱帶地區才能生長。廣東、福建、台灣，產量都很豐富。

湛江有著法國殖民地時期遺留下來的風情，尤其表現在飲食習慣上。湛江人喜愛法式烹調，喝咖啡及下午茶。蝸牛料理，也是餐桌上的美食，湛江人比法國人更懂得吃蝸牛。

戲院前的攤販上，也可以吃到用熱油炸酥的蝸牛美食，吃法也比法國人高明，用一根竹叉子，將蝸肉挑出，去除尾端黑色部分，沾點魚露，爽口有嚼勁，美味至極。

湛江也是盛產海蜇皮的地方，由一種屬於腔腸動物的水母製成。以薑絲、醋、麻油佐伴，相當可口，是一道可以上大桌的海鮮涼菜。

水母，學名叫「海哲」，體型像一把小雨傘，色澤透明，游走時像表演水中芭蕾。牠會放射出微量毒汁，捕捉小魚小蝦果腹，會隨著海潮游到岸邊。如果被牠咬傷，皮膚會疼痛紅腫。

有一次我與妺妹弟弟，跟當地小朋友在海邊嬉水。突然間，小朋友一夥兒奔跑上岸，發現是一群水母來襲，我們慢了一步，被螫得哇哇大叫。

我們在西營，雖然只停留了短短的十天，卻留下美好深刻的回憶。

隨後，司令部一級單位移駐東營，我們一家人連同舅舅，也去了東營。(98）

第44節：小鎮古樸
離喧囂

民國34年(1945年），中華民國政府收回廣州灣，法國全面退出，更名為湛江。當年湛江灣兩岸的交通，依靠帆船運輸。西營與東營各有碼頭一座，上午吹西南風，下午吹東北風，因此帆船上午由西營開往東營，下午由東營開往西營。

帆船順風而行，走的是斜角，兩岸碼頭也成斜角設計。在蔚藍的天空下，碧綠的海面上，風帆逐浪而行，東營的沙灘椰林，歷歷在目，把人們的心情，帶進一個平和的境界。

當年的東營碼頭，僅能停靠五艘中小型木船，其中兩艘係軍方運輸艇。從碼頭到小鎮，只有一條雙向行駛的碎石子公路，行程40分鐘。公路緊鄰海岸線，兩旁種植椰子樹和棕櫚樹，透過樹林空隙向灣中望去，漁船、帆船、輪船穿梭其間。公路以東是果園，荔枝、龍眼、鳳梨、釋迦，果香四溢。

父親的一位學弟廣惠民，在東營鎮上，為我們找到一間民房，竟然在公共汽車終點站的小樓上，是一棟法式磚造樓房。站前有一處停車場，站內有候車室及售票窗口。

小樓三面窗戶，陽光充沛，空氣新鮮。左前方是一塊平坦的台地，被樹林圍繞，有一條小路與公路連接，是每週一次趕集交易的地方。

小樓右方，有兩棵巨大的龍眼樹，果實長到二樓，粒大汁甜核小肉厚，正臨住家走廊右側，伸手就可採擷到。

車站附近有一所小學，朗朗的讀書聲，在家中就可聽到，我常到學校走動，還認識了一位小朋友。學校使用的教科書，居然跟青島育英小學使用的一模一樣，但是老師卻用廣東話教學。(99）

俗話說：「林深鳥自來」，住家近處的樹林中，大白天也會傳來不同的鳥兒鳴聲。不遠處的村子裡，夜晚會傳來狗吠聲，黎明時刻更有鷄啼的叫曉聲。給這個寧靜的鄉下，增添了幾分活力。陶淵明的田園詩寫道：「結廬在人境，而無車馬喧」，正是這種寫照。

趕集是這個南方小鎮民衆生活的一部份，在趕集活動中，可以看到人情的溫暖，平和的節奏，井然有序的生活步調，民風的純樸。

每週日，天未亮，挑擔子的、騎腳踏車的、推人力車的、趕着牛羊的，從各個村落，到達趕集地點。各自都有自己的攤位，有的搭起貨架，有的席地擺攤，有的將牛羊栓在樹下。攤位排列整齊，有十行之多。一天的交易，就此開始。

這裡沒有討價還價，淸朝的大銅錢相互流通。瓜果、蔬菜、鷄蛋、魚蝦，都估堆出售。鷄鴨鵝論隻計價，牛羊大件就有議價餘地了。牙刷牙膏，毛巾肥皀，鍋碗瓢盆，菜刀剪刀，一應俱全。還有挑着剃頭擔子，替人理髮的。人來人往，熙熙攘攘，好似舉辦一次嘉年華會。

小鎮有一條長約200公尺，寛約10公尺的住商小街。紅磚舖地，兩層樓的明清建築，黑瓦灰牆，古意盎然。木雕招牌，用不同的字體，由右至左書寫。還有布招，像一片一片旌旗，上寫「酒」、「茶」、「米」、「當」等字。小街上還有茶樓、酒家、雜貨舖、理髮店、中西藥房，還有一間小郵局及一座派出所。(100）

有一次去理髪，店內只有兩把躺椅，天氣熾熱又沒有電扇納涼，但是老闆有辦法，雇用一位小朋友，拉動一個用竹葉編織成的正方型太扇葉，用螺絲及彈簧將扇葉固定在木梁上。扇葉一端有一粗繩，小朋友一拉一鬆，扇葉就來回擺動，呼拉呼拉地搧出風來，還真涼快。

7月下旬的某一天中午，樹林裏的蟬聲遠播，我們享受着徐來的輕風，聽着知了知了的叫聲。紅紅的太陽，透射過樹林，顯得格外艷麗。父親接獲通知，告訴我們收拾行囊，兩三天內，登船轉赴廣州。

曹植詩有如此描述：「悠悠遠行客，去家千餘里。出亦無所之，入亦無所止。浮雲翳日光，悲風動地起。」我們跟隨著父親，跟隨著部隊，一站一站地飄泊，過着萍蹤浪跡的生活，像一隻倦飛鳥兒，找尋不到安適的去處。父親是軍人，以服從為天職，我們又是軍眷。在那種時空環境下，似乎我們決定不了命運，只能向前，這不正是曹植詩中的寫照嗎？

民國38年7月31日，我們登上了台灣船務運輸公司的「高雄輪」，離開了湛江，前往廣州。(101)

無巧不成書，天下就有機緣湊巧的事發生。有一次我們到西營去逛街購物，在茶樓飲茶，舅舅巧遇他在祝同中學時的好同學董毓明，還有他的姐姐董毓芬及姐夫劉先生。

董毓明與舅舅同是流亡學生，在江西分別後，去了香港。姐夫劉先生在香港有洋行，與越南有貿易往來，在湛江有分行。董毓明負責越南業務，有意增加人手。因此舅舅就在湛江，有了一份好的工作，也就沒有與我們同行。

自民國37年4月5日，從瀋陽飛抵青島那一天起，我們就過著飄泊流浪的生活。16個月內，從東北至華北，再到華中和華南。航經渤海、黃海、東海和南海，中國大陸海岸線1萬8千公里，幾乎走了一遍。下一站又要去廣州，往後再往何處去，完全不知。(102)

第45節：珠海長堤
荔枝灣

高雄輪的值更鐘響了，船正通過萬山群島，過了伶仃洋口，珠江口在望。接近虎門砲台時，看到許多小島小礁內外錯列。

虎門地勢險要，是廣州的屏障。過虎門船速緩慢下來，約1小時駛抵黃埔港。

黃埔是廣州都會區外的一個小鎮(今屬廣州市黃埔區)，民國13年黃埔陸軍軍官學校，創校於此。

靠岸時，軍方車輛已在碼頭等候，軍眷依序上車，穿越市區，直奔廣州市百子大樓。

百子大樓是一座四層樓建築，佔地約7萬平方英尺，當時是廣州數家銀行的宿舍兼倉庫，被軍方租用，闢為營區，部份為眷區，營區與眷區用障礙物分割。

百子大樓在今日的中山一路梅花村內，不遠處是陳濟棠的官邸，一座四層樓的花園洋房，佔地5610平方公尺，1993年被列為廣州市文物保護單位。

廣州是華南第一大城，人口1530萬，面積7434平方公里，是台北市的27倍。自2016年起連續入選GaWC國際大都會名單，2018年被評為Alpha級世界一線都市，2020年成為該級別全球排名34的大都市。在中國大陸的排名，僅次於北京、上海、深圳。

中國第三大河珠江，流經廣州城西的白鵝潭，在城內分成南、北兩支流，在魚珠小鎮會流出海。

廣州多寺院，城西南有五羊祠及穗石洞。傳説古時有五位神仙，駕乘五色羊來到穂石洞附近，棲息於一寺廟內，寺中有五石，為五羊所化，因此廣州簡稱為「穗」，別號五羊城。(103）

眷區面對大馬路，對面有兩棵大榕樹，樹下有一雜貨舗，除了銷售一般用品乾貨外，還供應豬腸粉、雲吞麵、燒賣之類的小吃，味美勝過湛江。

雜貨舖在一座小山坡下，山上佈滿野花及含羞草，搭配一叢叢紫色牽牛，風景宜人。水田池塘依山而建，塘內種植的是空心菜，開白花。田埂𥚃有小螃蟹及小魚蝦。

初到廣州，處處都覺得新鮮，首個週末，父親領著我們沿珠江長堤，遊覽這十里洋場，車水馬龍的繁華市景。

海珠大橋，當年是廣州的市標，橫跨於珠江之上，原橋於民國38年10月，廣州棄守時，被國軍炸毀。現今的海珠大橋，已修復重建，目前廣州的跨江大橋已有十座之多。

入夜後的珠江，霓虹燈影，映入水波。江上浮舫泛舟，漁家居於舫上，夏夜晚風吹拂，皓月當空，傾聽漁歌晚唱，有如置身南京秦淮河上。

沿珠江長堤，酒樓茶肆，鱗次櫛比，當年最有名者當推紅棉酒家，大宴小酌，門庭若市，紅棉佳餚，食在廣州，名不虛傳。

廣州城西有一湖泊，名為荔枝灣，今已更名為荔枝湖公園。水光瀲灩，煙波淡蕩，夾岸荔樹，綠葉成蔭。盛夏荔枝成熟，遊客爭相擷購，饒富情趣。傍晚時分，清風搖曳，夕照映霞，湖上彩舫穿梭，船娘撥漿其上，遊人划櫓而行，船娘遊客相對吟唱，彷彿在杭州西子湖上。(104）

黃花崗位於廣州市北郊白雲山（今黃花崗公園)，是清宣統三年（1911年）辛亥廣州起義，七十二烈士安息之地。墓地以大理石砌成，四周綠樹成蔭，氣勢恢宏，令人肅然起敬。白雲山中，頗多寺院，晨鐘暮鼓，香火繚繞。梅花盛開之際，賞花人不絕於途。當年曾兩度造訪，留下深刻印象。

林覺民是七十二烈士之一，從容就義前，留下「與妻訣別書」及「原愛」兩文，讀來令人動容，感人肺腑。這正是「一腔熱血千行涙，浩然正氣塞蒼冥。烈士為國捐身軀，碧血黃花灑忠魂。」目前國共兩黨對辛亥廣州起義，都有正面解讀，中國共産黨一直尊稱孫中山先生為革命的先行者。

當年廣州，街頭巷尾，男女老少，多著黑色衫褲，色澤滑潤，既黑又亮，貼身涼爽，易洗免燙。這種布料，是廣東順德的特産「香雲紗」。

香雲紗是一種多年生草本植物，莖葉粗硬，可用來蓋屋頂，學名叫「薯莨」。草根熬汁可染綢紗，叫「薯莨綢」，或叫「拷紗」，又叫「香雲紗」。

2002年，北京舉辦國際時裝節活動，香雲紗經過服裝設計師的精心設計和模特兒的展示，一夕之間轟動中外。(105)

第46節：苦風悽雨
捲殘雲

民國38年6月，十一綏靖區的一支國軍勁旅，由青島撤守至廣東，以廣州為軍令中心。不到兩個月，派駐至廣州灣的一個師團，為了配合戰略上的需要，緊急移防廣州，防務由粵系部隊接替。

從當時的國軍兵力佈署來看，西南的川、桂、滇、黔四省，西北的甘肅，浙江及福建沿海島嶼，海南島及南海諸群島，均在國軍掌控之中，還有反攻一搏的機會。「希望不到絕望關頭，絕不放棄希望。」深信總有王師北定中原之日。

另一方面，6月15日，中共中央在北京召開政治協商會議，為積極籌備成立中華人民共和國相關事宜作準備。8月5日，美國發表「美國與中國的關係」白皮書，表明對中華民國的立場，對國軍十分不利，可說是情勢危殆，風雨飄搖。

面對局勢的急速丕變，在廣州，這支紀律嚴明，訓練有素的劉安褀部隊，卻能不畏險惡，團結一致，沉着應戰，與粵系、桂系部隊互動良好。與解放軍並沒有大規模的接觸，但小型戰鬥頻繁不斷。我們在百子大樓的眷區內，每晚都能聽到營區部隊晚點名唱軍歌的聲音。這支部隊正是270師808團，團長有「活閻王」之稱。(106)

九月下旬的一次軍事會議，決定了一項至關重要的作戰計劃，以鞏固廣州軍力為基調，結合粤系桂系部隊，合力清剿粤北解放軍二野部隊。後因諸多因素，演變成自中華人民共和國建政以後，第一個國共戰役，陽江戰役。

10月1日以後的羊城，軍隊與民間的表現截然不同。一方是整軍經武加強備戰，另一方則是歌舞昇平紙醉金迷，十里洋場燈紅酒綠，茶市銀樓生意興隆，港幤美鈔互滙流通。劇場院線場場爆滿，上映的是「帝女花」、「二度梅」、「出水芙蓉」、「北非諜影」、「血染海棠紅」、「大涼山恩仇記」，熱鬧景象處處可見。民眾已不在乎是國民黨主政，或是共産黨主政了。

「老陳，收發報機賣不賣？」經管武器彈藥的槍砲官李少校對父親說。父親訝異「你說什麼，我沒有聽錯吧」。

「我說收發報機賣不賣？一部十根條子（一根條子十兩黃金)」，父親有點火了「違法的事，我辦不到」。

「老陳，是什麼時候了，我們的部隊能打得下去嗎？」，「不賣白不賣，反正這些東西，遲早都是解放軍的」。真讓人痛心疾首，這一號人物，時窮之時，真面目就浮現檯面上了。

情報官何治齊，對父親說：其二兄，共產黨已經打到廣州外圍100公里以內了。敢緊將大嫂和孩子送走吧。

一語提醒了，正在忙進忙出的父親。

半月前的軍事會議，誘敵入甕的戰略，未能如願。粵桂部隊各採山頭主義，按兵不動，未能給劉安祺部隊任何支援，因此戰線縮小，解放軍兵臨城下，廣州危在旦夕。(107)

民國38年10月12日下午，父親穿梭在珠江的臨江大道上，幾乎在絕望中，發現一家船公司門前有個告示牌：聽日（10月13日)，有開往湛江客輪，意者內洽。

真是喜出望外，買了船票，奔回百子大樓。全家人立即展開撤離行動，收拾了一些衣物及簡便行李，匆忙上車趕赴碼頭。

離家前，媽媽給爸爸一條稍早就縫製好的棉布束腰帶，中間縫入兩錠各二兩的金塊。父親說用不著，媽媽堅持要爸爸收下，說道：外面兵荒馬亂的，或許你會用到它。

父親把這條束腰帶，塞進了褲袋。碼頭擠滿了人潮，我們上了一艘排水量僅有一千噸的小船。

一路上所見，廣州城依舊是萬家燈火，霓虹燈絢燦奪目，一片車水馬龍歌舞昇平景象。人們並沒有意會到，共産黨就要入廣州城了。

父親跟我們逐一話別，我們感受到一股強烈的依依離情，父親的背影在人叢中消失。母親提及這段往事時，曾經引用白居易的「南浦別」來形容當時的心情。「南浦淒淒別，西風裊裊秋。一看腸一斷，好去莫回頭」。(108)

第47節：西風蕭蕭
離廣州

這一晚，母親在船上徹夜未眠，反覆地翻閱父親交給她的一個小本子，上面記載着舅舅在湛江的電話號碼，外叔公在海南島的住址，親友們在台灣的聯絡方式。好像在裡面才能找尋到安全，才能慰藉心中的恐懼。

10月13日，第一道曙光驅散了清晨的月光，遠眺東方的海珠大橋，經過陽光的透射，橋影倒盪，水光瀲灩。小船起錨，順珠江緩緩向東南行，見一白髪長者，憑欄感嘆：江山無限，別時容易見時難。

小船上的人，個個精神緊繃，擔心小船能否平安駛出珠江口，聽說解放軍就要進城了。各種不確定的因素，使人心生恐懼，母親臉色蒼白，十分憔悴，不發一語。

天色漸暗，小船駛經黃埔，再越虎門要塞，見兩岸峰巒峭壁，滿谷迴音，山上已有點燈人家，一排漁船燈火通明，酷似海上金龍。斜月高掛天際，滾滾江水直奔大海。江山有恨，流水無情，小船奔向浩瀚的南中國海。（109)

第48節：敗兵殘將
漠河邊

父親與我們話別後，立即返回眷區的家，收拾了一些衣物，匆匆忙忙到了辦公室，已近午夜。司令部已下達指令，作緊急撤離。當晚通宵達旦，電話鈴聲不斷，父親再也沒有回去我們的家。

13日晨八時許，十餘輛各型軍車，排列在操場上，人員個個戰鬥行軍裝備，依序登車。父親與作戰處同事同在一車，開往西南方佛山的公路上。

這是一次大部隊的移動，一個軍團的兵力，要在短時間內，向西撤退四百餘公里，到達湛江，路上必定會遭遇到可以預知的狀況。雖然事先已有周密的沙盤推演，但仍然是一次艱鉅的任務。

兩個精裝團，一個機動旅加上一個工兵營及一個通信連，早八個小時已先行開拔。司令部官兵及眷屬，於上午十時許，全數離開廣州城。中午時分，一個工兵連，炸毀海珠大橋，殿後撤離。

先遣部隊由九江經鶴山，往陽江方向挺進。路上並不順利，大小橋梁，全遭破壞，前進速度緩慢下來。工兵部隊舖路搭橋，疲於奔命。十三日中午，部隊只推進到開平附近。

一個無線電連在九江公路上，接應父親，改搭一輛電台通訊車，後隨兩輛中型吉普，組成這次任務的通信指揮中心，隨部隊挺進。

大部隊移動最忌停滯，這支機械化的勁旅，所有重型車輛，無法行駛便橋，只得沿途丟棄燒毀，部隊只能以急行軍方式向前推進。軍眷也被迫步行，無法跟上部隊，落後30公里，由一步兵連䕶衞。通信指揮車也遭到同一命運，遺棄在路旁。父親帶領少數官兵及一部流動電台，奉令與司令官同行。（110)

十三日晚間，先頭部隊已通過恩平，向陽江行進。其餘部隊於次日（14日）清晨，才緩慢通過恩平，軍眷還在恩平城外30公里。此時這支大部隊的縱深卻長達80餘公里，給了敵軍大好機會。

陽春、開平方面的解放軍快速部隊，將國軍分段衝潰，並在陽江城西漠河邊，設下重兵，以阻斷國軍先頭部隊渡河。至此，全軍已無法掌控，最可悲的是軍眷，四處竄逃，不知去向。此時，10月14日中午，解放軍進了廣州城。

此次國共兩軍，激戰18小時，國軍傷亡慘重。解放軍掃蕩戰場，被俘國軍官兵不計其數，只有一個團突圍成功，其餘未能越過漠河，此役在國軍戰史上稱為「陽江戰役」。

反觀司令官劉安祺，帶領了數位軍、士官，往陽江海邊奔去，包括作戰參謀張國英，工兵營長倪世英，通信參謀陳其二，情報官何治齊，電台台長傳興中及一名收發報員，一名搖機兵。

陽江港三面環山，一面向海。劉司令官的一雙鞋子都跑掉了，赤著腳蹲在海灘上，兩眼呆滯，狀極狼狽。幸好，兩位略懂廣東話的士官兵，事先徵得一艘小漁船，候在岸邊。

劉安祺急呼：「叱辦(怎麼辦)，陳參謀，叱辦」。先父回應：「一直在聯絡中，研判附近應該會有海軍巡弋」。

此時已經是入夜十點鐘左右，是個下弦月的晚上，海浪拍打著石礁，激起浪花，颯颯作響。(111）

遠方山頭傳來強力揚聲器的喊話聲：劉安祺，你們已經被包圍了，逃不了的，趕快繳械投降。

隨後又播放了一段軍歌，劉安祺似乎有點精神恍惚，說道：叱搞的，咱們的部隊在晚點名？

張國英回答：是八路軍在播放義勇軍進行曲。劉安祺有些訝異：叱，共産黨也唱這首歌？

此情此景，真有一份項羽圍困在垓下的悽涼。

陳參謀一聲「聯絡上了」，大夥兒一陣歡呼。海軍一艘軍艦正候在陽江外海，急忙上了小船。

基於安全快速，避免超載翻船，陳參謀、何情報官、傅台長留了下來。

張國英撂下一句「馬上回頭接你們」，三人苦守在岸邊，望穿秋水，小船再也沒回來。劉安祺脫險，解放軍追兵已到，先父將身邊的一盒收發報機備用真空管砸毀，成了解放軍的一名俘虜。(112)

第49節：月映池潢
念妻兒

一隊八至九名的解放軍，全副武裝，由後方斜坡奔向海岸，三名國軍軍官沒有一絲反抗，束手就擒。摘除軍階後，跟隨這隊人走往一個村莊，在一個曬穀場前，與其他一百多名被俘者，集中在一起，很多都是熟面孔。

一位解放軍連長，叫大家席地而坐。隨後一位指戰員，教大家唱歌，曲名是「解放區的天空」，唱一句跟一句。有人提問「有沒有歌譜？」，回答「什麼歌譜不歌譜，跟著我唱就對了」。

這天下午，有一連串的訓話，要求大家自我交代。晩餐後，為了方便管理，防止潛逃，所有人被趕進一個大池塘裡，水深及腰，等待第二天後送。

時令已進入陰曆八月底，寒露已過。地處粵西近海的陽江，下弦月的夜晚，有一股寒意。

父親站在水塘裡，看見月亮投映在水中，想到未知的命運，不禁顫抖起來。此時此景，想起妻兒幾天前搭上的那艘小船，是否安全駛離廣州？是否平安到達湛江？在茫茫大海中，會不會出狀況？愈想愈疑懼。此情此景，豈只是悽涼，且是悲愴。

父親的記事夲中，有這樣的追述「池潢水中月，思妻又念兒。小船當此夜，滄海嘆息時。」深刻地表達了父親當時的心境。此時是民國38年10月15日深夜，那艘小船正在湛江港外海。(113)

「老陳，逃!」一句低沉的聲音，在父親耳邊掠過，父親沒有反應過來。接著又重複了一次，這才知道是怎麼一回事了。

「逃到那裡去？」，「跟著我走就對了」。何情報官的提醒，頓時使父親清醒，「好，行動」。

一個躍身，一前一後，跳離了池塘。充分利用地形地物，快速躱進小樹叢裡，沒有驚動衞兵，也沒驚動同袍弟兄。

「下一步怎麼辦？」父親問道。「到陽江城買船票啊！」，「錢呢？」。老何回答「你摸摸你的束腰帶」，父親恍然明白，是指父親話別妻兒那晚，母親交給父親的兩錠金塊，金塊是母親親手縫合在一條束腰帶裡。

天未亮之前，趕到陽江城內一間民宅內。這位廣東籍的識途老馬，常到開平、恩平、陽江一帶出差，蒐集情報。

兩人換上便服，用完早餐，直奔陽江城內一家船公司。兩塊金錠換了兩張當天上午前往香港的船票，入夜之前到達香港。

在前長官退役少將翟處長的協助下，順利入境。兩天後，父親轉往海南島，找尋到妻兒，何情報官去了台灣。(114)

第50節：一葉孤舟
南海行

令人難以置信，廣州棄守前，我們搭上的那艘小船，艙位竟然安排在船尾，一間鐵皮屋的屋頂上。四面圍有一呎高的鐵欄桿，十五度斜坡，遇到大風大浪，準會滾到大海裡去。

巧的是，一位曾經跟隨父親的舊屬，五十四師副官處的炊事班長徐占武，居然艙位也安排在這間鐵皮屋頂上。徐班長有一位叔叔在湛江做生意，兼程趕往投靠。父親很高興，有一位年輕力壯的人，可以在路途上，幫助我們處理一些事務。

十月十三日晚，小船在澳門附近出海，駛向南中國海。這一晚，南海的夜空，繁星閃爍，一輪彎月高懸空中，海風拂面，寒氣直逼睡在鐵皮屋頂上的我們。

母親打開木箱，取出唯有的兩條毛毯，添加在薄被上。徐班長的被子成了我們的床墊，自己裹著一條軍毯。我們終於有了暖意，但仍然不能入睡，卻仰望著空中的星星，聽著呼嘯而過的風聲。

當曙光從船尾海平面升起那一刻，我們驚艷這海空一線的美景。甲板上有了喧譁聲，船沿著海岸線行駛，經三夾灣，越北海灣，到了漠江口的陽江，在距離岸邊一海里處拋錨，暫作停留。有小駁船接送旅客上岸購物，徐班長也上了岸。

熾熱的陽光像烘爐一般，直射在頭頂，使我們頭暈目眩，我幫母親費了九牛二虎之力，將床單撐起，遮住了肆虐的陽光。

湛藍的天空，金黃的大地，淼淼的漠江，陽江城籠罩在秋色之中，遠處的山巒倒映在海中，風光如畫，景色萬千。此刻此景，母親無心暇顧，卻一心懸念著父親的安危，憂鬱孤寂流露在她蒼白的臉上。這段飄泊的經歷，深深烙印在她的心坎裡。

我為當時的情景，作了一首七絕：沉沉孤舟渡關山，戚戚漠江南岸邊。朵朵白雲去悠悠，陽江浦外不勝寒。(115)

遠方有駁船駛來，採購的人提著大包小包上船，卻不見徐班長人影。眼看這艘「揭陽輪」就要起錨了，徐班長莫非出了狀況？我們焦急了。

小船開航前十分鐘，見一葉無篷舢板駛近，徐班長正立其上。他匆忙上了船，身子搖搖晃晃，滿臉通紅，喝得酩酊大醉，語無倫次，一雙皮鞋也不見了，提著一個竹籃，狀極狼狽。見到媽媽，用他那沙啞的四川話說道：太太，太太，對不起，對不起。

籃子裡只見兩盒月餅，並無我們極想要吃的水果。中秋節已過十天了，怎麼還有月餅出售？

個個都在暈船的情形下，月餅的油膩味，實在難以下嚥。為了充飢，我勉強吃了幾口，大妹無法吞嚥，一直嘀咕。徐班長說話了：大妹不吃，小妹不吃，弟弟也不吃，不如丟到海裡餵魚吃。

沒多久，被我吃進肚裡的月餅，卻嘔吐出來，分明是不潔之物，幸好沒事，母親毫無責怪之意。

船啓航了，面對夕陽，朝向湛江海域駛去，那兩盒月餅，丟進了大海。

船沿著近海行駛，遠方的山景隠約可見，遙望岸邊猶如凝煙，有一種朦朧的風韻。出海作業的漁船，清晰可見，夕陽漸沉大海，揭陽輪再次夜航南海。(116）

小船在月色中航行，不遠處有鯨魚出現，數尾海豚伴船跳躍嬉水，海鷗掠過我們的頭頂。我們推醒了媽媽，來一窺這大海中的驚喜，多日來首次看見母親有了一絲喜悅。

十月的南海，時有颱風肆虐，幸運地我們在秋月繁星的海上，渡過了一個平安之夜。回憶這段往事，我有如此描述：海天一線星月夜，鯨豚伴舟齊航行。鷗逐白雲破蕭索，臥尋天梯北斗星。

從陽江到湛江，140海里(260公里)，船卻走了近20個小時，途中在電白博賀港外拋了錨，檢修機艙6小時。正值中午時刻，船在靜止狀態，熾熱的陽光穿透遮陽的被單，悶熱得使人窒息。水瓶中的水，滴點不剩，我們逐次下了屋頂，找到䕃涼處，避過了這酷熱難捱的時刻。船修好了，繼續行程，到達湛江港外，已是15日半夜了。

船在廣州灣入口處停了下來，一艘海軍巡防艇駛近揭陽輪，向小船喊話，湛江此時已經宵禁，指令立即駛往他處。船上頓時喧騰起來，個個人心惶惶。

國軍的粵系部隊，此時正在迎戰攻城的中共四野解放軍。三天後的18日，老共進了湛江城。

船駛往何處去？不可預知的未來，一片茫然。母親立即意識到的，卻是舅舅的安危。(117)

第51節：披星戴月
過雷瓊

沒多久，船長宣佈：船將開往海口，預計明天清晨到達。海南島的情況，我們不明，再說船上的油料，只能供應至海口，希望能夠平安到達。

這晚，小船順雷州半島東岸大陸棚南下，渡過瓊州海峽，前往海口。母親的心情陷入谷底，蒼茫大海，步步險阻。記述前塵不勝唏噓，寫七絕一首：戴月披星過瓊州，蒼梧儋耳南海中。孤生茫茫嗟途窮，懷幽長嘯天來風。

海口港當時是中國的二等港，港內泥沙淤積，只能算是一個大型漁港。揭陽輪仍然無法靠岸，旅客要用駁船登陸。上午九時許，我們到達碼頭，再以巴士接送旅客至市中心。

我們在一座客運車總站的對街下車，行李搬到一間商店的走道石柱下。我們看守著行李，母親和徐班長先到車站買了前往東山小鎮的車票，而且買了一些吃的回來，給我們充饑。

東山鎭在海口市南方五十公里，32軍獨立旅的防地，外叔公是該旅的上校副旅長，媽媽帶著我們去投奔他。

熱帶季風型的氣候，使海南島四季如夏。海口市區二至三層的磚造商業樓房，鱗次櫛比，騎樓是它的特色。街道兩旁椰樹掩映，綠草如茵，朱槿盛開，空氣清新。路邊小吃攤，水果攤熱賣，廣東點心及熱帶水果，讓人垂涎欲滴。初來乍到，海南給我們留下美好印象。(118)

下午三時許，我們搭上每日僅有兩班開往東山的客運。車票可以預售，母親來遲一步，只買到後座三個座位，可以擠下四個人，我和徐班長及行李，一起上了車頂，還有一對中年夫婦。

車子顛顛簸簸地行駛在黃土路上，車尾掀起串串沙塵泥煙。遠眺綠樹村寨，村間小路還走著牛車。一年三熟的稻米，金黃色的穗浪，隨風搖曳，又是一番熱帶田園景觀。

時近黃昏，到達東山小鎮，雇上一輛木板大車，大妹、小妹、弟弟和行李都上了車。車伕按址帶著我們走在鄉間小路上，來到一幢大院前。核對門牌號碼，沒錯，就是這𥚃。母親呼吸急促，忙拍那扇大門，出現眼前的正是外叔公。母親哇的一聲，嚎啕大哭，把一肚子千般萬般的委屈，頃刻間都發洩了出來。

10月15日，湛江全市宵禁，陸路水路交通完全中斷。舅舅與董毓秀、董毓明姐弟，向一位團長情商通融，搭車到達雷州半島南端的徐聞縣海安鎮，雇了一艘漁船，南渡海峽，到達海口，找到了我們。董氏姐弟不久後，去了香港。

數日後，父親也由香港搭船到了海南島，與我們團圓，派至32軍參謀處，擔任中校附員。徐占武也在獨立旅，安插了一份炊事工作。(119）

第52節：思古幽情
走瓊州

西元1097年(宋哲宗紹聖4年)，朝廷重議蘇軾「草制訕謗」一案，再貶東坡由惠州（東南廣東)至瓊州(今海南島海口市)，時年已六十二。但不改其一生開朗豁達之個性，一踏上這塊土地，立即沸騰起新的生命。曾作「四州環一島，百洞蟠其中。千山動鱗甲，萬谷酣笙鐘。」，「黎山有幽子，形槁神獨完。翛然獨往來，榮辱未易關。」的詩句。

黎山，即海南島內的五指山，屹立於瓊、萬、崖、儋四州之間，黎民多聚居於此，有獨特的文化習俗。

黎民又分生黎、熟黎兩種，生黎分佈在深山之中，目前仍過著半耕半牧生活。熟黎則聚居低丘河谷地帶，已經漢化，語言生活方式，都與漢人相同。

東山小鎮就有許多熟黎，婦女在溪邊浣衣，壯年人在田裡工作，定期有市集活動，與漢人相處和睦。

宋朝時的海南四州：瓊(今海口市)，萬(今萬寧縣，海南省東南)，崖(今崖城，海南省南，其東50公里為中國最南端大都市三亞，東鄰榆林軍港)，儋(今儋州，位於中西部)。(120）

海南島地形中央隆起，河川呈放射狀入海。南渡河是海南第一大河，流經東山鎮西南，在其東方20公里處，向北折流，至海口市出海。

東山受地利之惠，利於農業生產，稻米、甘藷、蔬果，產量豐盛。

家禽養殖，至今仍是東山產業，河邊常見養鴨人家。馬路旁，稻田中，常棲鴨群，小則百餘隻，大則近千隻，蔚為壯觀。

養鴨農人頭頂特大斗笠，手持加長竹桿，赤著大腳趕著鴨群。有時穿越馬路，長達十餘分鐘，來往車輛只有耐心等待。趕至水田中的鴨群，個個急著找尋田螺、水蛭、蝌蚪之類食物。

鴨群完全聽從竹桿及口令指揮，農夫運作竹桿，純熟優美，像儀隊表演操槍。一桿在手，又似交響樂團的指揮，發號施令。更像千軍萬馬的指揮官，一個命令，一個動作。

鴨群在水田中，一面尋食，一面生蛋，隨行者緊跟其後，眼明手快，忙拾鴨蛋，情景交融，難得一見。(121）

我們在東山小鎮只住了一個月，父親因職務調整，轉往海口。新家在海口市東，一條南北走向的小河，流經附近，是一座典型的中國農村建築，四週有磚牆圍繞。一條石板路通往市區公路，路經一座寺廟，視線之內是菜園和竹林。

我們住進農舍進口左方，租用兩個房間。右方的一排房間，住的是屋主一家人，三代同堂，近20口。

兩排房舍中間是個小院子，院子中央位置，有一口水井。

屋主夫婦鎮日工作在菜園、竹林裡，蔬菜、竹筍，替家庭帶來不少財富。兩個兒子是木匠，工作在院子裡，製作各式各樣木盆，有固定買主，生意應接不暇。兩個兒媳，輪流在同一部織布機上織布。

木盆的材料，供應自城南一間鋸木廠。從打樣、鋸割、曝曬、修刨、組合、試漏到成品，工序純熟，美觀實用。

兩個兒媳同是黎民，用亞麻纖維擰成的麻線，是她們織布的材料。

織布機由數根木框製成，織布人坐在一根橫木上，操控機器。木框上端懸掛經線，梭子一上一下將緯線穿過經線，等全部經緯線穿成布匹。她們還會編織色彩繽紛有圖案的裝飾布，用於黎民製作工藝品。

時過七十年，這種元老級織布機，已送往海南省博物館陳列。海南省博物館，位於海口市瓊山區，2008年11月15日，正式開館。

這家人開飯的時候很溫馨熱鬧，尤其是晚餐，全數到齊。飯桌、板凳、蒸籠、菜盆、木碗、筷子、木杓、湯匙，全是自製。三素一葷一菜湯，吃得清淡。好奇的是，飯用蒸的，蒸熟後盛入木盆，然後加上兩大瓢井水，白飯粒粒摻在冷水裏，不乾也不稀。這種吃法，可以抵禦海南島的炎熱天氣，防止瘴癘生病。(122）

我們還認識了一位啞巴女孩，比大妹小一歲，長得聰慧清秀，父母雙亡，身世坎坷，和她的爺爺，住在附近的寺廟裏，爺爺做些雜工維生。啞巴女孩對我們很友善，很容易交往，比手畫腳也可溝通。

我們每晚都會聽到打更的聲音，每過一個時辰，聲音都會由遠而近，鑼聲摻著吆喝聲。

我好奇地從大門門縫望出去，正是啞女和她的爺爺。女孩提著燈籠在前，爺爺敲打銅鑼在後，喊着「天乾物燥，小心火燭」。都20世紀50年代了，還有這種事發生，太不可思議了。

距離住家不遠，步行約十分鐘，可達一座戲院，有一個通信連連部駐防於此。因工作關係，父親常至連上洽公。駐防官兵有免費看戲的優待，我們也跟著受惠，與父母同去看廣東大戲。印象深刻的戲碼有「六月雪」、「彩雲追月」、「帝女花」。

粵劇中的唱腔，變化多樣，時而會唱上一段流行歌曲，旋律相同，詞句卻配合劇情，很有創意。樂團使用三弦、琵琶、桃琴、笛簫、鑼鼓之外還有小提琴、喉管、薩克斯風。

不得不佩服馬斯曾先生，對粵劇改革的貢獻，將傳統注入了新血。直接影響到中共文化部，對京劇的改革，有了「樣板戲」。1964年我在金門服役，廈門毛軍向蔣軍心戰喊話，時而播放樣板戲。戲詞有：報告連長，蔣軍灘頭已被攻下。（123）

第53節：時命運也
豈途窮

民國39年1月12日下午，姑姥姥尹世荃女士（中國國民黨山東省日照縣首位女黨員）帶領著我們一家人，包括我的舅舅在內，搭乘台灣船務運輸公司的「宜蘭輪」，由海口駛往台灣。

次日，宜蘭輪航行在浩瀚的南中國海中，連船長都感到訝異，一夕之間海上颳起十級強風。我們的座艙，安排在船尾。五至六丈高的大浪，像無數頭巨獸，對著船艙怒吼。我們如坐雲霄飛車一般，隨著大浪起伏。40餘位旅客，緊急轉移底艙。

整艘船的旅客，命運是一樣的，為了同一個理想，追尋同一個目標。船正駛向那也許可以安生立命的地方，那大海中的一座燈塔，台灣。

千年孤臣涙，江山幾局殘。是福是禍，前途未卜，能不能回大陸，且看時運。如要深耕台灣，那是命運。我們能怪誰，又能怨誰，時命運也豈途窮。

對1949年前的十年經歷，父親唈歎「歲月流離印痕，江河退逝年光。歷史消磨古今，看盡世事滄桑。」始料未及，我們在台灣竟生活了七十餘年，鄕音未改習俗改，他鄉已成我故鄉。無論歷史怎麼寫下去，總希望兩岸同胞，要做一個堂堂正正的中國人。(124)

經過一夜的海上驚魂，宜蘭輪於1月14日中午，駛抵基隆，基隆港細雨紛飛，距離民國38年6月16日離開基隆，開赴湛江，有213天。僅僅7個月時間，局勢卻有了翻天覆地的變化。

就在此時，蔣夫人宋美齡女士，結束自民國37年11月28日，兼程赴美遊說國會及行政部門，給予中華民國政府支持的行程，回到台灣，其間長達1年1個月又18天。

稍早於1月8日，蔣夫人接受美國國家廣播公司NBC「Meet The Press」節目訪問時表示：感謝美國人民自二次大戰以來，一直對中華民國的支持。二次大戰中與我們並肩作戰的盟邦，已有背棄我們者。我們的政府已遷往台灣，數百萬民眾也跟隨政府到了台灣，並沒有對中共政權存有幻想。求人不易，我們會在台灣自立自強，放下身段，從頭做起。我會在幾天後去台灣，和我的同胞同甘苦共患難，不能讓台灣被共產赤化。我們是在一個大海中的小島上求生存。中華民族自由民主存亡絕續的最後一道防線，就在台灣。

蔣夫人的此番箴言，猶言在耳。值得國人深思的是，中華民國政府播遷台灣至今70年，為何自上世紀90年代後，我們國家的處境，艱難到如此不堪地步。回顧1940至1950的大陸十年，也許會給這個問題一個答案。江山風雨，時也，命也，運也。

（125，全文完）

寫在江山風雨書後

西元前2697年，是黃帝紀元元年，迄今西元2021年(中華民國110年），開國已有4718年。

歷史承先啓後，源遠流長。1940至1950，在歷史的長河中，卻是江山社稷，炎黃世胄關鍵的十年。

從抗日戰爭勝利到國共內戰至兩岸分治，變化之大，歷史罕見。慶幸我成長在這個年代，經歷過苦難中國，風風雨雨的十年。

先父叮嚀，將這段歷史紀錄下來，見證那個年代，我們走過的路，以史為鑑，可知興替。

父親還取了一個書名叫「十年流離看山河」，母親卻建議改為「江山風雨」，深思其義，中國大地風風雨雨何止十年。

2020年10月，定稿「江山風雨」，總想續寫兩岸分治後的江山風雨，感覺力不從心。祈求上主恩賜我一個健康的身體，提供一個更好的寫作環境。2021年2月6日
於洛杉磯

Contents目錄目录 (58)

1. 懷念那段山河蹂躪 國難未斷的日子 (代序)
2. 第一章：重慶邊城 故事多
3. 第1節：生逢抗戰 艱苦時
4. 第2節：初識唐詩 憶外婆
5. 第3節：童年生活 樂趣多
6. 第4節：滑竿坐轎 順口溜
7. 第5節：鬼影悚悚 七保岩
8. 第6節：處置逃兵 有爭議
9. 第7節：虛報兵員 吃空缺
10. 第8節：捉襟見肘 遇鄉親
11. 第9節：舉國歡騰 慶勝利
12. 第二章：錦繡河山 復元路
13. 第10節：恩施高原 崎嶇行
14. 第11節：湘西邊城 苗家寨
15. 第12節：酉水河上 拉縴行
16. 第13節：邂逅沅江 初春時
17. 第14節：世間豈有 桃花源
18. 第15節：浩瀚無垠 洞庭湖
19. 第16節：銜山面水 岳陽樓
20. 第17節：赤壁遙想 古戰場
21. 第18節：昔人已乘 黃鶴去
22. 第19節：黃岡赤壁 懷古情
23. 第20節：欲識廬山 真面目
24. 第21節：駭浪天浮 采石磯
25. 第22節：鷄鳴鍾山 遍秦淮
26. 第23節：回首浦口 別時情
27. 第24節：一代忠𩆜 萬古存
28. 第25節：兒女才是 心中寶
29. 第26節：十里洋場 大上海
30. 第27節：綽約多姿 憶江南
31. 第三章：數番風雨 飄搖行
32. 第28節：乘風破浪 奔遼原
33. 第29節：遣俘交接 動人心
34. 第30節：大豆高梁 遍地香
35. 第31節：杏花櫻花 齊開放
36. 第32節：以怨報德 無悔意
37. 第33節：滿清陪都 史蹟多
38. 第34節：兄弟鬩牆 內戰起
39. 第35節：飛越江山 憶故人
40. 第36節：萬般風情 在青島
41. 第37節：上海重逢 兩樣情
42. 第38節：風雨飄搖 辭鄉土
43. 第39節：關鍵一戰 振軍心
44. 第40節：重編密碼 逆轉勝
45. 第41節：流亡學生 話傷感
46. 第42節：飄洋跨海 過台灣
47. 第43節：南國椰林 舞婆娑
48. 第44節：小鎮古樸 離喧囂
49. 第45節：珠海長堤 荔枝灣
50. 第46節：苦風悽雨 捲殘雲
51. 第47節：西風蕭蕭 離廣州
52. 第48節：敗兵殘將 漠河邊
53. 第49節：月映池潢 念妻兒
54. 第50節：一葉孤舟 南海行
55. 第51節：披星戴月 過雷瓊
56. 第52節：思古幽情 走瓊州
57. 第53節：時命運也 豈途窮
58. 寫在江山風雨書後

懷念那段山河蹂躪
國難未斷的日子
(代序)

我的一生是一部移民的故事，是大時代萬千例子中的一個。前十年在原鄉中國大陸，後三十年在故鄉台灣，1980年舉家移居海外迄今四十年。原鄕、故鄉、僑鄉都是我的所愛，我的家。

回顧大陸十年，走過的中國是一個顚簸流離，烽火連天，戰爭不息的十年。秦關月，楚天雲，長江淮河，鄱陽洞庭，黑水長白，嶺南風情，南海椰林，都留下了童年深刻的烙印。

先父對原鄉愛得深沉，對隨軍播遷台灣前的十年，發出唈歎：「十年流離印痕，江河退逝年光。歴史消磨古今，看盡世事滄桑。」那是一個山河蹂躪國難未斷的年代。正因為有如此深刻的感受，促使我寫了我的第一部著作「江山風雨」，於2005年5月完成書稿。隨後又陸續寫完「日照紅樓」、「陌麈落地」、「羈旅雁鳴」，敍述家事、國事、天下事的文章，約60萬字。「日照紅樓」及「陌塵落地」分別於2017年12月及2020年2月，付印出版。「羈旅雁鳴」字約24萬字，全書發表於碧波網站，歷時近三年，於2020年10月刋登完畢。三部著作能夠得到正面回應，頗感欣慰。於是想到塵封已久的「江山風雨」，有公開發表的必要。找回1940年後十年，在中國大陸誕生的一代，共同的記憶。

全書分三章53節，約7萬字，第一章抗戰，第二章復元，第三章內戰。

第一章：重慶邊城
故事多

民國26年(1937年)7月7日，駐紮在河北省寧河縣豐台鎭(今天津市寧河區)的日軍，在北平市西南永定河上的蘆溝橋擧行演習，佯稱一名士兵失蹤，要求入宛平縣城內搜索，被國軍拒絕。日軍惱羞成怒，開砲攻擊宛平。國軍37師219團團長吉星文授命還擊，中國抗日戰爭正式爆發。

一個月後的8月13日，淞滬會戰在上海掀起，首都南京危在旦夕，遂有蔣委員長提議遷都至重慶的議題。

11月15日，國民政府「國防最高會議」議决遷都重慶，並將重慶升格為直轄市，成為抗戰時期政治、軍事、文化、經濟的中樞。諸多可歌可泣的故事在此發生，充分發揮了「抗戰第一，勝利第一。國家至上，民族至上。」的抗戰精神。(1）

第1節：生逢抗戰
艱苦時

民國26年（1937年)12月，首都保衛戰國軍失守。日軍進城屠殺前兩日，我的外祖父尹季和將眷屬隨國軍後勤留守單位，後撤到大後方，自己卻返回部隊，繼續抗日。

經過一年四個月的長途跋涉風霜雪雨，外婆帶著一家人於民國28年(1939年)4月到達重慶。這年10月父母完婚於重慶，我於次年（1940年)7月7日，蘆溝橋事變三週年誕生於重慶南岸。

民國27年(1938年）10月4日，日軍首次空襲重慶，沿嘉陵江低飛投彈，並用機關槍掃射地面，以測試中國軍隊的防空能力。初期成效不佳，次年改以「疲勞轟炸」方式進行干擾。每次來襲戰機三架，輪番上陣。

民國28年(1939年)4月，父親服務的陸軍通信兵第一團由桂林移防重慶，早外婆一個星期到達。次月就遇上了5月3日及4日兩天的日軍大轟炸，整個重慶市一片火海，大火燃燒一個星期未息。（2)

大轟炸首日解除警報後，姥姥帶著三個孩子奔出防空洞，未到家前已見熊熊烈火將房子化為灰燼。身邊只有一個小布袋，內裝一些乾糧及零用錢。

當晚被軍方安置到南岸一個叫「立石溝」的地方，是由數間土石牆陶瓦平房組成，兩面水田，兩面菜園。主人是一位五十多歲的老實人，和善樂於助人，大家稱他為「何老板」，我的幼兒期在這裡度過。

民國31年5月，父親晉升為上尉，部隊移防至榮昌縣，榮昌今已隸屬於重慶市，我們離開居住了兩年的立石溝，遷居榮昌。

巧合的是，我們在榮昌的第一個家，房東也姓何，當地人稱他的宅院為「何家大院」，距離縣城不遠，面積相當於4萬平方英尺。四週石牆，三合院農舍建築，大小房近20間。我們住在後院的其中兩間，磚造平房，木質門窗，古典樸雅。(3)

一條鄉間小路經過何家大院的前院大門，連接一條産業道路，可達縣城。

小路兩旁是大片旱田，種的是俗稱油菜籽的蕓苔，每年入秋時節是油菜籽開花的時候，金黃色的油菜花盛開奔放，隨風搖曳，美景盡收眼底。

大院南北兩側是菜圃，種植的是四季應時蔬菜。四季豆、扁豆、豌豆、蠶豆，是四川常見的豆類蔬菜。小時候我常吃的零食是香酥蠶豆，姥姥自製的豆瓣醬就是用蠶豆做的。

最難忘的是藤藤菜，也就是空心菜，抗戰時期家家戶戶每餐的餐桌上，必定會有豬油豆豉炒藤藤菜這道菜餚。

田裡也種紅薯，也就是地瓜，抗戰時期把它當主食看待，地瓜葉也用來餵豬，吃地瓜葉的豬，瘦肉比肥肉多。

榨菜加工是四川的食品工業，每年二、三月採收，農村每家每戶幾乎都在醃製四川榨菜，那個時候沒聽說有防腐劑和添加物。

由後院大門望出去，是一大片水田，種的是荸薺，也就是馬蹄。收成時走在田埂上，農夫必定會送幾粒又大又脆又新鮮的荸薺給小朋友，用埂間的清水洗淨後送入口中，真是甜在嘴裡，爽在心裡。田中白鷺覓食，又是另一番景色。

後院石牆外有一荷花池，塘中的水由田埂間引進，池塘開一出口，池水可流向一條地勢低窪的水溝，如此荷塘中的水是活動的。每年夏天，滿塘荷花散發出淡淡芳香，也是採收蓮藕的時候。

荷塘的右邊是一片竹林，翠竹叢生，在晨光照射下顯得格外翠綠，每年可收春冬兩季竹筍。

幼兒時第一次聽到蟬聲，就在榮昌。由何家大院遠處的樹林傳來。樹林後的山坡上，種植了許多亞麻，亞麻的纖維可以製成夏布，夏布做成的衣服，穿在身上舒適涼爽。榮昌縣是夏布生産中心，馳名國際。

2008年我與在上海病中的舅舅通電話，談起了這段陳年往事。他用蘇軾的一首「鷓鴣天」，將九百餘年前在湖北黃岡的蘇軾，抗戰時期的我們，當時在上海的他，打破時空連在一起，我深刻的體會出舅舅那個時候的心情，2010年11月他在上海去逝。

「林斷山明竹隠牆，亂蟬衰草小池塘。翻空白鳥時時見，照水紅蕖細細香。村舍外、古城旁，杖藜徐步轉斜陽。殷勤昨夜三更雨，又得浮生一日涼。」。(4）

第2節：初識唐詩
憶外婆

外婆，北方人稱姥姥。我的姥姥是一位虔誠的基督徒，在重慶時，經一位孫姓團長的夫人引薦，到南岸一座教堂做禮拜，延續到榮昌。每逢週日姥姥會帶領家人去教堂，非特殊情況從未中斷。

有一位浙江籍的牧師劉怡朋，贈予姥姥一張耶穌基督的手繪像，從民國33年起，就一直陪伴著我們這個家，途經中國大陸10萬里，從四川到東北經海南到台灣，現在仍然珍藏在台北的家中。

搬到何家大院這年，正是春末夏初時節，牆外的竹林裡傳來陣陣黃鸝鳥兒的鳴聲，百囀千迴。姥姥不時的咳嗽聲交雜其中，此情此景油然而生吟誦起金昌緒的那首「春怨」。

「打起黃鶯兒，莫教枝上啼。啼時驚妾夢，不得到遼西。」算算民國26年12月至今已有六年，姥姥仍然不知外公生死。我隨著姥姥吟唱這首詩，是我初次接觸唐詩的開始。

民國33年(1944年）陽春三月，春分已過，已見農夫田中工作，樹林裡時而傳來杜鵑啼叫的聲音，姥姥的咳聲由斷斷續續到咳個不停。一次重感冒之後，姥姥與世長辭，結束了44年多舛的生命。(5)

第3節：童年生活
樂趣多

民國33年(1944年)父親晉升為上尉通信連連長，有一名傳令兵叫黃清樹，莊戶人家老實人。平日擔任公文傳遞及連部清潔工作，還要負責飼養一匹來自寧夏的蒙古馬。這匹土黃色的馬，是父親的代步工具，白天騎著上班，傍晚下班騎回家。

每逢假日，我和大妹會騎上馬，由黃清樹牽馬到縣城兜風，確實很神氣。這匹馬配有軍糧和副食費，相當於一名上等兵的待遇。

椪柑是四川省的特産，四川紅橘是椪柑的一種，成熟時果皮呈紅色，多汁味甘。

另有一種，四川人稱它為「廣柑」的栁橙，風味絕佳即甜又香，參雜在橘園內種植。橘園距住家大院約三里路，我和大妹會在星期日催黃清樹牽馬，帶我們去採橘，那時還體會不出田園之樂。

民國34年(1945年)一月下旬，距離陰曆新年還有三個星期，榮昌下了一場大雪，這是我第一次看到雪花飄曳的美景。

還用臉盆來接，沒想到，回到家很快就化成水了。

榮昌位處四川盆地之南，受阻於秦嶺、大巴山，如非強烈北風吹襲，難有下雪天氣。瑞雪初見必有祥瑞，這年八月，日本無條件投降。

春節過後我們搬離了何家大院，來到縣城一處商賈住宅內，有前後兩院，是一座林園建築，院內有假山噴泉、魚池涼亭，具水石玲瓏之美，我們在此住了整整一年。

記憶深刻的是，房東秦大媽做的美食「四川蒸雜」，是一種粉蒸肉，配以紅薯、荸薺、蠶豆、豌豆、榨菜等食材，入蒸籠蒸上兩小時，香氣四溢，滿院皆是肉香菜香。當時只覺得好吃，不知什麼是品味，這是70多年前的事了，至今還想到那道菜的美味。(6）

第4節：滑竿坐轎
順口溜

李白詩「蜀道難」：噫吁嚱，危乎高哉，蜀道難難於上青天。

四川省因有長江、岷江、沱江、嘉陵江四大川而得名，秦時置巴蜀二郡，別名巴蜀。三國時為蜀地，故四川省簡稱蜀。

四川省高山環抱，丘陵盤錯，山嶽連綿不絕，交通極為不便。

抗戰時期有一種交通工具叫滑竿，由兩根大竹竿當支柱，撐起一張竹製無篷座椅。搭乘者坐於椅上，有如坐轎。

抬轎人又稱竿伕，身手敏捷，一前一後，行走於田間小徑及崎嶇山路，重慶郊外也常見此一景觀。

幼兒時我坐滑竿，是由父母抱著我坐。行進時後面的竿伕，看不清前方的路況，必須由前面的竿伕提醒，以確保坐轎人的安全。

為了避免行程間的無聊，也給坐轎人一些樂趣，於是有了不少前呼後應的順口溜出現。用道地的四川話道出，更夠勁，更夠味。

例如：（前呼)天上一道虹，(後應)地下一條蟲。意謂前方有水溝，提醒後面的竿伕留意。

(呼)窈窕淑女，(應)君子好逑。表示前方走來一位漂亮姑娘，請大家多看幾眼。

(呼)天上一朵雲，(應)地下一泡屎。前面有牛糞，注意了。

（呼)胖大娘，(應)奶奶長，（呼)上面跑白馬，（應)下面曬衣裳。意謂有一位胖大媽，就要經過。

（呼)大老爺大腦殻，(應)頭上纏個白布殻，（呼)腰幹插個煙袋腦殻，(應)屙起屎來棍棍戳。意謂見一荷鋤農夫，入廁茅房。抗戰艱困時期，鄉下廁所無廁紙可用，以竹片竹棍代替。

四川人生性樂觀進取，很能適應環境，由這些順口溜中，可見一斑，這或許是另一類抗戰精神的表現。（7）

第5節：鬼影悚悚
七保岩

民國32年（1943年)5月間，陸軍通信兵第六團成立通信兵士官大隊，父親在連長任內，被遴選為該大隊第二中隊上尉中隊長。這是繼民國28年5月，擔任峨嵋山軍官訓練團中尉教官之後，第二次出任軍中教育職務，大隊部設在榮昌縣城西南的七保岩。

大隊長叫劉前江，胡琴拉得特好，還教學員唱京劇。我父親是戲迷，兩人可對上了。有時唱戲入迷，竟忘了回家。父親常給我講京劇中的故事，對三娘教子、四郎探母、趙氏孤兒、烏盆記的劇情有點了解。

父親很有藝術天分，還在操場的牆壁上，書寫標語。四呎見方的大字，自己爬上梯子，打格子，打字様，用油漆一筆一劃塗刷而成。白牆、紅字、柳體，工力厚勁場面壯觀。「國家至上」、「民族至上」、「抗戰第一」、「勝利第一」，是當時機關、學校、部隊、車站、碼頭、工廠等地方，常見的標語。

這年八月間，父親輪値當值星官。一天午夜過後廵視營區，忽然間幾乎同時，學員寢室內的電燈全亮，然後忽滅忽明，號兵徐庭玉也吹起了集合號。父親大惑不解，詢問號兵是誰的命令。徐庭玉卻説：隊長，是你叫我吹的呀。父親說道：奇怪，我沒有叫你吹呀。（8)

實施夜間緊急集合，雖是課程之一，但是沒有安排在這個月。如有更動，值星官應該預先知道，為何狀況如此突然，父親心中發毛。聽說這個營區，曾經閙過鬼，七保岩原是清朝時期，砍頭行刑的地方。

且看各隊學員，不過五分鐘時間，就能全副武裝整整齊齊，集合在大操場上。一般夜間緊急集合，動作不會如此快速，而且也不會出現只穿單隻鞋子，忘穿襪子的尷尬場面。

父親當時很沉着，避免影響官兵情緒，引起恐慌，沒有阻止狀況繼續進行。立即走向隊伍，向官兵說道：今晚提前實施緊急集合，是要測試各位的警覺程度，大家表現得很好。現在由王少尉起音，原地唱義勇軍進行曲，越大聲越好。

隨後帶領部隊繞大操場跑了三圈，最後部隊解散就寢，起床號也晚吹了一個小時。

過後不久，陸續有人開小差，也就是當逃兵。團部也派來監察官調查，也沒有什麼結果，事情不了了之，含糊帶過。

再説那名號兵徐庭玉，有位哥哥叫徐慶隆，來自湖南鄉下，燒得一手好菜。民國27年秋天，父親時任中尉排長，兩兄弟在通信連內當炊事兵。徐庭玉沒事時，就吹弄他的那把銅號，吹出一點成績，當了號兵，一直跟隨父親到了四川。這年父親服務於南嶽衡山指揮所，與交通部衡山電信局有業務往來，局長姓瞿，是個京劇迷，與父親成了好朋友，此人鎮日長袍馬褂，一派書生打扮。徐慶隆常做些酒菜到瞿府，邀約父親喝酒聊天唱戲到深夜。

民國28年元月，日軍進攻南昌，同時轟炸衡陽，南嶽也被波及。徐慶隆在日機轟炸時，為了看熱閙，被彈片削去頭殻而慘死。(9）

第6節：處置逃兵
有爭議

抗戰時期的國軍，以劣質的武器裝備，對抗機械化的日軍，一直處於劣勢。一場小戰役打下來，都會有相當大的傷亡，全憑一股國家至上，民族至上的精神力量，支撐着部隊的士氣。當然也有經不起考驗，貪生怕死之輩，開小差的事，常見於各部隊中。

抗戰時期通信兵的待遇，高出其他兵種甚多，但仍有士兵逃亡之事，重者欈械潛逃，自然送軍法處理，一般都會私了。

有兩種方式懲罰逃兵，一是把部隊集合在大操場上，在衆目睽睽之下，帶出逃兵壓倒在地，用扁擔劈打臀部至皮開肉綻為止。通信兵比較人性化，將逃兵兩個大拇指，綁在舊式的手搖電話皮機上，通過電瓶的正負兩極，用力快速搖動發電手把，受刑人受到強力電流襲撃，會立即昏厥過去，痛苦只是一時。

在當時的時空環境下，這種不人道的處罰方式，頗有爭議。但是為了維護嚴明的軍紀，執行起來實在無奈。(10）

第7節：虛報兵員
吃空缺

抗戰時期，部隊裡還有一種怪現象，就是吃空缺。軍隊按編制徵滿兵員，以充實戰力。但沒有任何一個兵種的部隊人數十足，嚴重缺員高達三分之一者，是很常見的。

負責軍中糧秣薪餉發放者是軍需，獨立團級以上單位，有軍需官編制。軍需通常是部隊長的心腹，帶點親戚關係，有行號的帳房先生或家族的管家，當然也有受過正規財經教育的專業人員。

民國元年國民政府就有軍需學校的設立，民國26年抗戰軍興，軍需學校由南京遷往江西吉安，旋移四川江北。為了培植軍中軍需人員，有正規期次及計政訓練班和短期訓練班的成立。

在抗日戰爭那個年代，資源嚴重匱乏，糧秣服裝餉銀幾乎不可能依時按量到位，就要靠軍需人員去張羅。於是以少報多，能夠讓官兵吃飽穿暖，有薪餉可領，軍中就有了吃空缺現象。當然也有不肖之徒，聯合裙帶關係，同惡相濟者。核發軍糧偷斤減兩有之，糧內摻合砂粒有之。層峯並非不知情，而是上有決策下有對策，在這種時空環境下，軍需官難為，是不爭的事實。

民國32年父親在上尉連長任內，炊事班長常抱怨沒米下鍋，補給士官也怨聲載道，每月都要向朋友借錢，代墊副食費，多次面臨無法開飯的窘境。

父親忍不住，去找軍需官理論，兩人大打出手，由於出手很重，將對方打得鼻青臉腫，自己也掛了彩。此軍需官係某師長小舅子，雙方都有理，最後團部將此事淡化處理。(11）

天下就有這麼巧的事，十九年後的民國51年4月，我從聯勤財務學校畢業，以少尉財務官軍階，到單位報到，是父親陪我去的。

一進門讓我驚奇，父親與當年的吳軍需，兩對目光交集在一起。「你是吳軍需」，「你是陳連長」。兩人熱情的握着手，互道別來無恙風采依舊，那是一種久別重逢巧遇故知的喜悅。

我被分派到他的課內工作，有了這層關係，我工作得相當賣力。

更巧的是，民國54年我由金門調職台北，兩年後他再度成了我的直屬長官。那段時間，他常約父親至台北中華商場「四川吳抄手」小酌聊天，並至國軍文藝活動中心聽戲。

民國38年，他的妻子留在大陸，在台灣他一直未娶。兩岸開放探親後，他回了浙江原鄉。（12)

第8節：捉襟見肘
遇鄉親

民國28年元月，姥姥帶著三個孩子，從湖南祁陽經桂林、柳州、貴陽等地，歷時半年輾轉到了重慶。這是繼民國26年12月，外祖父在南京陣亡後，姥姥帶著孩子逃難到湖南後，再一次的遷徙。

當時生活幾乎到了絕境，姥姥試著做了一些家鄉小吃，蒸炸都有，母親跟著到住家鄰街上去叫賣，可是不對四川人的胃口，生意很不理想。

幸好遇到一位在高砲部隊當排附的親戚，叫莊家祿的年輕人，年齡稍大於母親，論輩份還要稱呼我的母親為六姨。

莊家祿吆喝了一些山東老鄉，幫助買了大部分姥姥做的吃食，對家庭經濟多少有了一些補助。

民國30年6月5日，日本軍機再度疲勞轟炸重慶，造成驚動世界的重慶大隧道慘案，悶死者近三千人。

國軍的高射砲射程，根本到達不了日機的飛行高度，只能在敵機低空投彈時，抓住機會射擊。這位射擊精凖的莊排附，當日就撃落擊傷日機各一架，成了新聞焦點。（13）

第9節：舉國歡騰
慶勝利

民國34年的暑假，我常結伴到家附近的一所校園去遊玩，喜歡在那裡盪鞦韆。大約是七月底的事，學校大禮堂的椅子全被移開，留出中間一大塊空地，來了七、八個人，搬來許多竹材和工具，開始做起竹簍。兩三天的功夫，就做成了近20個竹簍，其中一個特別大，竟然是個龍頭，後來他們又拿來數十面繪有五彩鱗片，縫製而成的長布。又將竹簍串連起來，長布覆蓋其上。每一竹簍下面，都用一根粗竹桿撐住，組裝成一條栩栩如生的彩龍，我們意識到日本鬼子快要投降了。

有關日本即將投降的消息，於8月10日，重慶的中央日報、大公報都發出號外。數萬民眾擁至報館及中央社門前，等待消息的發展。慶祝抗戰勝利的橫幅，部隊、學校、商家，處處可見，小朋友也準備了燈籠，大家都期待勝利的那一刻快快到來。

八月中旬的榮昌，天氣悶熱得難受。父親通常睡得很晚，收聽電台廣播已成習慣。8月15日，晚上十點多鐘，重慶中央廣播電台插播重大消息：日皇今天對日本全國人民頒佈詔書，命令帝國政府通知中、美、英、蘇四國，接受波茨坦宣言，向同盟國無條件投降。

隨後又有鈴木首相向日本全國人民廣播的消息，說明天皇大詔既下，國家今後之方向已定，多難之前途，惟有赖國民努力，開拓命運，今後應一心維護國體，內爭輕舉尤當切戒等語。（14）

父親沒等到聽完，就拿起洗臉盆，猛力敲打起來。喜悅帶有急促，大聲喊到：日本投降了，日本投降了。

驚醒了家人，也警醒了左右鄰居。不到數分鐘整條大街，整個縣城，燈火通明，奔相走告。歡呼之聲，鞭炮之聲，震耳欲聾，響徹雲霄。同胞們的每一颗心都在跳動，每一個細胞都在沸騰。八年來壓在心裡的鬱悶，盡情地發洩了出來。有人激動得嚎啕大哭，隨後與路人緊緊擁抱。爆竹聲、歡樂聲、汽笛聲、歌唱聲，交織成一片，榮昌城的男女老少整夜未眠。

這場勝利的到來得之不易，正是玉怗驚天，金湯失固，碩德不孤，得道多助，不避艱險，以抗戾暴，同胞一心，浴血抗戰，耿光大烈，舊宇重光的寫照。（15)

第二章：錦繡河山
復元路

民國34年11月，在普天同慶薄海騰歡中，父親接奉命令，調往東北工作。我們一家人，包括比我大九歲的舅舅和小我三歲的妹妹及剛誕生的弟弟在內，開始了復元之行。

第10節：恩施高原
崎嶇行

民國35年2月上旬，春節過後不久，父親服務的部隊至重慶整編，陸軍通信兵第六團的四個連，分別派駐湖南、湖北及東北，眷屬得與部隊同行。

部隊由一名營長帶隊，經四川秀山縣（今隸屬重慶市)經川湘公路(今319號國道）入境湘西，改由湖南境內的酉水河至沅陵，順沅江經桃源至常德，留下一個連。其餘續行過洞庭湖至漢口，再留下一個連。另兩個連順長江到達南京，改乘京滬鐵路(南京至上海，全長305公里）到上海，再改搭海輪到東北。

今日之京滬高鐵是由北京至上海，中途連結天津、濟南、徐州、蚌埠、南京、鎮江、無錫、蘇州，全長1318公里。(16）

恩施高原，其東為兩湖盆地，西為四川盆地，西南為雲貴高原，南為黔東丘陵，居四個中國自然地理區中心位置。山嶺起伏，河谷深陷，名副其實的「蜀道之難，難於上青天」。

車隊迂迥行走在九彎十八拐的碎石路上，車速必須緩慢，才能避免危險。

出川前，從酉陽到秀山，一在山上，一在山腳，不到50公里的路程，卻走了整個大白天。不過沿途奇山異水，風景秀麗，心情愉快，沖淡了旅途中的疲憊。

早晚溫差大，入夜後氣溫急降，有野狼出沒，車輛如要停下來休息片刻，野狼會一擁而上，十分恐怖。有經驗的駕駛兵，會將前車燈打開，猛按喇叭，向空鳴槍，才會驅趕狼群。過了川湘邊界（今渝湘邊界），有一個名為「茶洞」的小城，車隊在此停留一天一夜。(17)

第11節：湘西邊城
苗家寨

茶洞是湖南西部邊陲的一座典型苗鄉小鎮，地方雖小，卻是重慶（渝）、湖南(湘）、貴州（黔），三地陸路交通必經之地，曾有「一腳踏三省」之稱。小鎮又稱「茶峒」，始建於西元1803年(清嘉慶8年）。山城雄峙，河水悠悠，距離西北方花垣縣城僅25公里。

記憶中的茶洞，有一條小街數條巷弄，石板舖成的街道，可見斑斑石痕，凸顯出歷史的滄桑。

烏蓬船在清澈的河面上輕蕩，苗女撐篙搖槳其上，溪邊浣紗的姑娘，河岸戲水的兒童，蕎耙店前倚門而坐的老婦人，青山之下褐木黛瓦的吊腳樓。這一幅夢幻似的美景，襯托出小鎮的古樸、寧靜、典雅，有一股靈秀之氣。

高中時期，讀沈從文的小說《邊城》，𥚃面所述的故事，都以此小鎮為背景。2005年7月，中國大陸以沈從文的這部小說，將茶洞更名為「邊城」。

1952年香港邵氏公司有一部電影「翠翠」，就是以《邊城》中的故事，改編拍成。小城溪邊有一座白塔，旁邊住有一戶人家，一位老人，一位姑娘，還有一隻小黃狗。姑娘名叫翠翠，是老人的孫女，祖孫相依為命。

翠翠工作在烏蓬船上，電影還有一首主題曲，我還能哼哼，歌詞是：搖船的姑娘，妳真美。茶洞找不到第二位，大大的眼睛長長的眉，白白的牙兒紅紅的嘴。多少人想做媒，不知將來便宜誰，便宜誰。(18）

第12節：酉水河上
拉縴行

離開了茶洞小鎮，順著今日的209號國道經花垣縣城，到達保靖。沅江支流酉水河流經保靖城南，我們在此停留一晚，次日改乘酉水河上的小木船至沅陵，再換乘沅江上的船隻，經桃源到常德。

車隊至保靖，完成運輸任務，裝載了一批軍需物資，折返重慶。

保靖當年的人口不足3萬人，如今已達28萬6千612人(2003年)，土家族和苗族佔人口73%。此地有3萬年前東洛舊石器時代遺址，及呂洞山名勝，水鴨食品系列頗受遊客青睞。

部隊及眷屬，搭上酉水河的木船，繼續行程，船隊浩浩蕩蕩，頗為壯觀，前後船隻相距兩里，船速順水而行，早上自保靖出發，黃昏之前到達沅陵，在此再停留一夜。

途中遇到縴夫拉縴奇景，船隻逆流而上時才會出現。當時的船隻很多還是人力操作，需要縴夫拉行。岸邊數組人拉縴，船上數人撐篙，船尾有人掌舵。縴夫在河邊的石頭上，跳上躍下，背負船纜用力拉行，並且留意船纜不被岩石絆住，影響船隻行進。（19）

在中國內陸船隻還沒有充分利用機械引擎推動的年代，縴夫這一行業是很盛行的，討個生活相當辛苦。工作時他們會齊力吆喝，音律和諧，聲音洪亮，尤其在山谷之中，傳出的陣陣迴音，讓人聽來有一種淒涼滄惘的感覺。

唸初中時，有一首「拉縴行」的歌，旋律流暢明快，縴夫心聲盡在歌韻之中。中國大陸也有一首有關縴夫的歌「縴夫的愛」，描述一對縴夫愛人生活的苦悶和喜樂，傳唱多時歷久不衰。

處在21世紀的今天，縴夫這一行業已經很難存在了，只能在觀光景點去找回記憶中的拉縴行了。（20)

第13節：邂逅沅江
初春時

沅陵，唐宋時期稱辰州，民國24年7月國民政府設「湘西綏靖處」於此。位於湖南西北部沅江中游，酉水河與沅江會流處，面積5852平方公里，北與張家界為鄰，素有「湘西門戶」及「南天鎖鑰」之稱。是一個嶺岳起伏，遠眺近觀，景物如畫的地方。

湘西的物産由此集散，航運繁忙，我們在此停留一晚，次晨換搭沅江船隻，續行常德。

船隻劃破了濤濤江水，兩岸重山在夕陽照射下，茫茫煙雲兩相呼應，在這初春的沅江之上，我們與春花爛漫的美景相邂逅。

沅湘一帶，自古常為失意文人放逐之地。最早屈原在此作《離騷》，王維為此寫《桃源行》，劉禹錫的《競渡曲》：沅江五月平堤流，邑人相將浮綵舟。靈均何年歌已矣，哀謠振楫從此起。是記述沅陵地區，一次龍舟競賽的情形。

東晉時武陵人陶淵明來到沅江，更寫下一篇名垂青史的《桃花源記》。李白、杜甫、王昌齡、柳宗元、辛棄疾等人，他們深深熱愛這裡的山水民情，為沅湘一帶留下不少著名詩篇。(21）

第14節：世間豈有
桃花源

陶淵明：東晉哀帝興寧3年(西元365年），生於柴桑，又稱武陵(今江西九江），卒於南朝宋文帝元嘉4年（西元427年），享年62歲。

晉太元：指東晉孝武帝太元，計21年(西元376-396）。

陶淵明《桃花源記》：「晉太元中，武陵人，捕魚為業。緣溪行，忘路之遠近，忽逢桃花林」。就是這篇文章，給後人留下許多想像空間。

中國大陸很多地方有桃花源，重慶酉陽的桃花源，景色優美和陶淵明筆下的世外桃源十分相似。河南南陽內鄕縣的桃花源，有如人間仙境。

《辭海》對武陵一詞的解釋是指，湖南常德一帶。沅江入洞庭湖，近常德處有桃源縣。

1980年代，湖南農民在桃源附近，發現了一千六百年前陶淵明所描述的桃花源。1986年9月重陽節，桃源縣民還舉辦了一次發現桃花源活動。至於是否就是當年陶淵明所描繪的桃花源，仍有商確的必要。

當年我們乘坐在沅江的木船上，觀兩岸風景讓人迷醉。不遠處，就有一個地方叫桃花源，如今已是觀光景點。

想當年，八年艱苦的日子都捱過了，走在復元的路上，此情此景人在醉鄉，卻有信流而行天涯飄泊的感觸。父親曾以秦觀筆下的「桃源」，來譬喻當時的心情。「醉漾輕舟，信流引到花深處。麈緣相誤，無計花間住。煙水茫茫，千里斜陽暮。山無數，亂紅如雨，不計來時路」。

船過桃源，稍息片刻，直航常德。（22）

第15節：浩瀚無垠
洞庭湖

常德是湘西第一大城，位於沅江下游，是兩個內陸省四川、貴州貨物的集散中心。城西山巒起伏，東控洞庭湖，地勢險要，為軍事重鎮。民國32年11月1日至33年1月5日，長達66天的中日常德會戰在此發生。

同行的一個通信連，留此駐防，其餘續行。

沅江流經常德市區，形成一曲流，將全城分割為二。城北為商業中心，市肆繁榮。城南為工業園區，有仿古城景點。現有兩座大橋，連接城南城北。

當年見碼頭上有許多挑夫，從船上挑下一桶一桶的桐油。江面有許多飄浮的木材，由小船拖向洞庭湖，如今此景已不復存在。我們在此停留了兩天兩夜，恢復了連日來的舟車勞頓。

第三天，其餘三個連，各自分搭一艘航行於洞庭湖上的客輪，開往下一站岳陽。

客船行駛在浩瀚的洞庭湖上，別有一番風情。當時的洞庭湖是中國第一大淡水湖，面積有3720平方公里。1970年後鄱陽湖取代了洞庭湖的位置，雖然面積只有3206平方公里。長期以來湖南省內四條大河，湘、資、沅、澧各江的泥沙，淤積於洞庭湖內，湖邊居民圍地成田，與湖爭地，造成嚴重後果。

三艘客船具動力引擎，客艙、餐廳等設備具全，船隻兩側有走廊及䕶欄，船頂還有觀景台。

印象深刻的是，這艘大船，用粗大的船纜拖著三艘木船行進，木船上載有各種貨物，運往長江各城市。很像一隻母鴨，帶領着三隻小鴨在水上漫遊。

在寧靜的夜色中，月高風徐，白雲浮動，滿天星斗，湖天一線，船隊緩緩破浪而前。

當晨曦從湖面升起時，船上敲打起當天第一次晨鐘。在此之前，就有很多人站滿觀景台，立於甲板上、䕶欄邊，觀看這湖上日出美景，船將要進入岳陽港了。(23）

第16節：銜山面水
岳陽樓

近中午時分，船隊駛入岳陽城西南方的南津港。走在後面的一艘，首先收回船䌫，跟隨在後的三艘木船脫離母船，各自前往碼頭卸貨。另兩艘母船，依序辦理，各母船緩緩駛入客輪碼頭靠岸。

岳陽又名岳州，位於湖南省東北，洞庭湖東岸。京廣鐵路(原粵漢鐵路），穿越城區，係兩湖盆地水路及陸路交通樞紐，背山面水，地勢險要。

城西有岳陽樓，湖光山色，屹立古城一隅。樓高四層，登樓遠眺，美景陶人欲醉。北宋文學泰斗范仲淹在其散文《岳陽樓記》中記載：「予觀夫巴陵勝狀，在洞庭一湖，銜遠山，吞長江，浩浩蕩蕩，橫無際涯。朝暉夕陰，氣象萬千，此則岳陽樓之大觀也」。

歷代騷人墨客遊此，莫不賦詩留記。李白曾有「水天一色，風月無邊」，杜甫也有「昔聞洞庭水，今上岳陽樓，」等名句留此。

《岳陽樓記》全文刻於樓中八扇大門之上，其結語「先天下之憂而憂，後天下之樂而樂」兩句，更為千古名言。

傳八仙之一李鐵拐，曾三遊樓上買醉，人均不識，後題詩而去，詩曰：「三醉岳陽人不識，朗吟飛過洞庭湖」，因此後人將其神像祀於頂樓之上。

在岳陽停留期間，除了登上岳陽樓外，並且搭船去了距離城西不遠，洞庭湖口的君山島。關於此島，傳說中有一個「淚痕斑竹」的悽美故事。(24）

君山島位於岳陽東北15公里的洞庭湖中，面積1．2平方公里，島上有12個山丘，狀如螺髻。在湖中遠眺此島，好似沉浮於輕煙薄霧之中。

島上產茶，芳香撲鼻。生長的翠竹又稱「湘妃竹」，斑痕別致，質地堅厚。

傳說堯帝有兩位美麗聰慧的女兒，許配給賢能的舜帝。舜帝南巡時，妻妾同行，愛妻娥皇(屈原筆下的湘君），寵妾女英(屈原筆下的湘夫人），合稱「湘妃」。夫婦三人相敬如賓，恩愛恆逾，夫巡婦隨，形影不離。

舜帝勤政愛民，跋涉於蒼梧山麓洞庭湖畔，積勞成疾，崩於蒼梧。湘妃悲痛欲絕，朝夕抱竹痛哭，涙珠灑於竹上，竹顯褐色斑點，湘人稱其為「斑竹」。湘妃殉情投湘江而死，屍體十數日後，浮現於洞庭湖面。漁民乃葬二妃於君山島上，島內有古蹟二妃墓及湘妃祠景點。

唐朝詩人雍陶，曾作「題君山」詩句，詩曰：煙波不動影沉沉，碧色全無翠色深。疑似水仙梳洗處，一螺青黛鏡中心。

煙波不動，形容湖面風平浪靜。沉沉，寫君山倒影在湖中。碧，湖色。翠，山色。

凝視倒影自然只見翠山，不見碧湖。倒影中的君山太像鏡中仙女的螺髻。（25）

第17節：赤壁遙想
古戰場

在岳陽改乘長江客輪，經新堤(今洪湖縣）、嘉魚，至武昌。武昌是武漢三鎮中最大都市，當年是湖北省會，辛亥革命起義，推翻滿清的發祥地。

船駛離洞庭湖進入長江，向東北行過洪湖20公里，長江南岸有赤壁一地（原屬蒲圻，今隸赤壁縣）。三國時期，周瑜撃敗曹操80萬大軍於此。

東漢獻帝建安13年(西元208年）11月22日半夜，諸葛孔明在七星壇祭風，一陣東風颳起，周瑜在三江口縱火，黃蓋的火船衝入曹操的連鎖船陣，烈火衝天。不到半日，曹軍灰飛煙滅，鮮血染紅滾滾長江。

行經赤壁，見一千八百餘年前古戰場，讓人感到世事滄桑，帶有一份悽惘。（26）

第18節：昔人已乘
黃鶴去

夕陽中江輪駛抵武昌，停靠當時的漢陽門碼頭。父母和舅舅是舊地重逢，景物依舊人事已非，歡喜之中帶有悲涼。

武昌古名江夏，又稱鄂州，長江及漢水交會之處，隔長江與漢口、漢陽，適成鼎立之勢。辛亥革命起義，據此為發祥之地，曾是湖北省會。城中的黃鶴樓古蹟，始建於三國，京劇「黃鶴樓」中，是孔明三氣周瑜的地方。

唐朝詩人崔顥詠讚黃鶴樓：昔人已乘黃鶴去，此地空餘黃鶴樓。黄鶴一去不復返，白雲千載空悠悠。晴川歷歷漢陽樹，芳草萋萋鸚鵡洲。日暮鄉關何處是，煙波江上使人愁」。

李白亦有詩句：故人西辭黃鶴樓，煙花三月下揚州。孤帆遠影碧空盡，惟見長江天際流。

黃鶴樓經過無數次戰火的蹂躪，卻成了一幢殘樓。抗戰勝利後，它依舊蒼勁，屹立不搖。在一座清代鑄造的青銅樓鼎前，舊物重現，引發深沉的幽思之情。1985年，黃鶴樓重建，面貌一新。

我們來到武昌城西的一座碼頭邊，父親遙指對岸漢口，述說民國27年，他奉令架設一條橫渡長江軍用電話電纜的往事。那是一次艱鉅的任務，他排除重重險阻，圓滿完成。

前些日子，整理父親寫給我的信件，有一封提及他與母親、姑姑，於1995年至武漢探親，與定居武漢的五叔，同遊黃鶴樓的記述，信中有一段文字：余自民國二十五年，赴陜西潼關，就任第一個軍職開始，次年奉調漢口，之後晉升調職，至抗戰勝利復元，路過武昌，重遊黃鶴樓故址，前後整整十年。至一九九五年，再次登上黃鶴樓，已是重建後的新樓。六十年內五次重逢，却有不同的感受。

我們還去了漢口火車站，民國27年，姥姥帶著三個孩子，不分晝夜在淒風苦雨中，在車站等待外公回家。早一年，外公人已在南京保衛戰中，為國捐軀。

父親還填詞一首，追憶前麈往事：六十年漂泊歲月，今歲新夢，忽到黃鶴舊山頭。歛秦煙，收楚霧，熨江流。黃河水，秦關月，川蜀情，，滾滾長江水流東。（27）

第19節：黃岡赤壁
懷古情

離開武漢，江輪駛往黃岡。黃岡昔名黃州，長江流經城西及城南。城西有一峭壁，形如象鼻，伸入江中，取名「赤鼻磯」。一江之隔，其南為鄂城(今鄂州），船靠今日的長江鄂州港口，近有觀音閣名勝，在此停留半日。

北宋蘇軾（1036-1101），字子瞻，號東坡，眉州眉山人(今四川省眉山市）。因撰文諷喻王安石變法，得罪朝廷，於宋神宗元豐二年(1079年）八月入獄，史稱「烏台詩獄」。次年二月眨黃州(今湖北黃岡市)，元豐四年在黃州城東一片坡地上，築一小書屋，成了蘇軾落難時的棲身之處，提「東坡雪堂」四字匾額，懸於屋上。

初至異鄉，誤將湖北口音之「赤鼻」聽成「赤壁」。在滿腔不平中，於此年十月寫下千古絕唱的《赤壁懷古》詞作：大江東去，浪淘盡，千古風流人物。故壘西邊，人道是三國周郎赤壁。亂石穿空，驚濤拍岸，捲起千堆雪。江山如畫，一時多少豪傑！遙想公瑾當年，小喬初嫁了，雄姿英發。羽扇綸巾，談笑間，檣櫓灰飛煙滅。故國神遊，多情應笑我，早生華髪，人生如夢，一樽還酹江月。

為求區別兩個赤壁，後人將黃岡赤壁取名為「文赤壁」。赤壁之戰時的古戰場，今赤壁市為「武赤壁」。

我們在鄂城作了一次西塞山之遊，是今日鄂州的西山風景區。唐代詩人張志和，在此作《漁歌子》：西塞山前白鷺飛，桃花流水鱖魚肥。青箬笠，綠蓑衣，斜風細雨不須歸。

下一行程，前往江西省廬山之北的九江市。(28)

第20節：欲識廬山
真面目

江輪在九江客運碼頭靠岸，部隊中的第二個通信連在此留下駐防。

九江，古名潯陽，位於鄱陽湖之北，長江流經城北，南倚廬山，地勢險要為兵家必爭之地。是江西省北部門戶，有南潯鐵路通往南昌，全省貨物的總吞吐港，以瓷器、大米、茶葉為大宗。市區內有八里、甘棠、南門、白水、琵琶等湖，各湖均有通往長江的水道，兩岸夾柳成蔭，風景優美，我們在此停留兩天兩夜。

1991年建成的長江大橋，是繼武漢長江大橋、南京長江大橋之後，中國大陸最大最長的公鐵路兩用大橋，是連接大江南北又一座天塹通道，當年如欲進入湖北境內，需要搭乘渡輪。

「橫看成嶺側成峰，遠近高低各不同。不見廬山真面目，只緣身在此山中」，蘇軾的一首「題西林壁」緊扣著千年來中國人的心弦。將廬山的美景，起伏的山嶺，在雲霧繚繞中，難識其貌，其意境之絕妙，成了千古絕唱。

廬山，古時有匡俗者結廬於此，故名廬山。三面臨水，西臨陸地，千崖萬壑，風景秀麗，是避暑勝地。明朝旅行家徐霞客，於萬曆46年（1618年）遊歷廬山，形容廬山峯巒疊秀，峭壁幽谷，山嶺綿延數十里，各自成峯，雲霧變幻，瞬間萬態，蔚為奇觀。

民國26年7月，蔣中正委員長在此發表廬山宣言，面對日本侵略，聲明「中國希求和平不求苟安，準備應戰而不求戰」。

次日一早，我們先到達牯嶺鎮，再順登山道路上山，搭汽車或坐滑竿均可。因第二天上午，續航懷寧，我們選擇乘坐滑竿，只作重點遊覽。

「美廬」是當年抗戰時期，蔣介石伉儷在廬山的官邸。這幢由英國建築師赫莉女士，建築的英國式別墅，以半賣半送方式，給了蔣夫人宋美齡女士。蔣介石在別墅內的巨石上，親題「美廬」兩字，美廬至今仍然保持原貌，完整無缺。我們順道遊歷了附近的仙人洞、琴湖、錦繡谷等景點，這是我一生中，至今唯一的一次廬山遊。雖不見廬山真面目，只緣身在此山中。

今日登廬山，已有䌫車索道可乘，全長2864米，10分鐘即可攻頂。如有機緣，能夠再度重遊。

下次登廬山必遊三處景點，鄱口、五老峯及三疊泉。

鄱口，位於含鄱嶺上，是一山嶺崖口，面對鄱陽湖而得名，富於湖光山色之美，常年雲霧繚繞，行走其間，有如置身雲海。

五老峯，在牯嶺東南，綿延數里，各峯似斷未斷，峯嶺之上有數株奇形老松，樹齡將近千年，盤虬奇絕。

廬山數十處泉瀑之中，尤以三曡泉最為奇特，水流由五老峯之北傾注而下，激於盤石之上，水花四濺，瀑水寒氣襲人，飛流千尺，洩於龍潭之中，為廬山第一勝景。

李白有「望廬山瀑布」詩作，「日照香爐生紫煙，遙看瀑布掛前川。飛流直下三千尺，疑似銀河落九天」，李白所指之香爐，係香爐峯，與五老峯並列，三曡泉相望。白雲悠悠，山嵐映照，飛瀑千尺，美景宜人。(29）

第21節：駭浪天浮
采石磯

江輪由九江順長江向東北行，經過馬當，進入安徽境內。日出開航，中午到達懷寧(今為安慶），停留數小時後續航，經貴池(今池州）、銅陵，於午夜抵達蕪湖。

蕪湖，在青弋江與水陽江入長江會流處，長江流經城西，鐵公路四通八達，港寛水深，海輪可駛達此處，是煤、米、茶、木材的集散中心。蕪湖米是米中極品，蕪湖也是中國四大米市之一。這裡的蟹黃湯包，是人們嚮往的美食，與上海南翔小籠包齊名。

蕪湖的古蹟也多，城北長江岸有巨石兀，傳三國時劉備病逝於白帝城，孫夫人在東吳聞噩訊後，於此投江殉節。

次日中午續航南京，路經當塗、孚石磯及馬鞍山，晚間停靠南京中山碼頭。

當塗位於長江東南岸，東北有采石磯，突出江面，形勢險峻為歷代用兵重地。采石磯有古蹟太白樓，係紀念李白而建，李白死後，葬於采石對岸的青山之上。

南宋高宗紹興31年(1161年）11月，名將虞允文督領建康（今南京）諸軍，以舟師抗拒金主完顔亮的大軍，鏖戰於采石磯。完顔亮失利潰敗，而遭部屬縊殺。這是宋朝南渡以來，最能振奮人心的一次大㨗。

南宋詩人張孝祥，曾以詞作「聞采石戰勝」熱烈祝賀采石之戰的大勝：雪洗虜塵靜，風約楚雲留。何人為寫悲壯，吹角古城樓。湖海平生豪氣，關塞如今風景，剪燭看吳鈎。賸喜燃犀處，駭浪與天浮。

中華民國在大陸時期的舊有行政區劃分上，當塗包括采石和馬鞍山。今日的馬鞍山，經過數十年的發展經營，已成為安徽省的一個一線大都市。原先的采石及太白樓古蹟，現已併入馬鞍山市。(30）

第22節：鷄鳴鍾山
遍秦淮

華燈初上時刻，在客輪鳴笛聲中，由一艘領港船引導，緩緩進入南京港。旅客站滿了觀景台、甲板及兩側船廊。父親牽著我的手，媽媽抱著弟弟，舅舅把妹妹扛在肩上，站在船頭甲板右側有利位置。

有人驚嘆，有人歡呼，更有人情緒激動，紛紛指著就在眼前的南京城，一個對個人、對家庭、對國家、對民族的悲情城市。

聲音此起彼落，「前面是莫愁湖」、「過幾個街口就是玄武湖」、「我還記得夫人廟在哪裡」、「過了秦淮河就是中華門」、「遠處是紫金山，中山陵就在那邊」。當聽到「右前方就是雨花台」時，母親忍不住抽泣起來，那可能就是外祖父捐軀殉國的地方。

抗戰勝利後，有一首家喻戶曉的藝術歌曲《鍾山春》，傳詠至今，歷久不衰。描寫出鍾山的巍峨，在龍蟠虎距的石頭城裡，南京無邊風景，裝點出江南新春。

政府播遷台灣後，畢業於福建音專的沈炳光教授，作了一首《冬夜夢金陵》，由王文山教授填詞，唱出了對南京的懷念，長一輩的人每當聽到或唱起這首歌時，都會潸然淚下：落絮飛花，燈殘被冷，夢中重返金陵，夢中重返金陵。滾滾長江水，獨抱孤城。石馬石人依舊，咸默默，守口如瓶。從別離，心頭萬緖，說與誰聽？聽，聽，晨鐘已響遍遠近村莊，多少鷄鳴。稚子紛紛閙，夢再難成。滿院青松翠柏，都壓得積雪盈盈，都壓得積雪盈盈。天晴後，冰消凍解，氣爽風輕。（31）

民國26年(1937年）12月的一場浩劫，日軍洗劫了這座古城，燒殺擄掠，無所不為，同胞們的鮮血染紅了長江水。這一年，姥姥帶著孩子告別了南京，也告別了外祖父，走上飄泊之路，去了大後方重慶。八年之後重逢南京，景物雖在，卻人事已非。

唐朝詩人劉禹錫寫了一首「石頭城」：「山圍故國周遭在，潮打空城寂寞回。淮水東邊舊時月，夜深還過女牆來」，恰如母親當時心中深沉的感受。

六朝以還，秦淮河就已雕梁畫棟，十里珠簾，至民國已有一千七百餘年，東升的明月，抗戰後仍舊從城埤升起，照射在這座殘破的古城。明孝陵的柳絮仍然飄落在石馬石象之上。莊嚴肅穆的中山陵上，各界復元的人士，憑弔國父陵寢，不絕於途。

江水波濤洶湧，拍打著古城，伴隨著鍾山、鷄鳴寺、燕子磯、雨花台。濤聲在寒夜裡，星月在朦朧中，人兒沉緬於懷古幽情，深沉的思緒中。

我們短暫在南京停留了三天，那幾天小客棧附近的鷄鳴聲，格外雄渾、清脆、有力。2016年2月，重逢南京，時隔整整七十年了，父親、舅舅已駕鶴西遊。(32）

第23節：回首浦口
別時情

民國26年(1937年）10月底，八三一淞滬會戰結束，日本軍閥集中兵力，順京滬鐵路(南京至上海，全長305公里。與現在由北京至上海的京滬高鐵，全長1318公里不同），逐步向南京逼近。11月19日，蘇州及常熟淪陷。12月2日，長江第一道江防要塞江陰失守。3日，丹陽陣地被攻陷。5日，第二道江防要塞鎮江棄守。

12月5日至8日，南京下關碼頭及對岸浦口火車站，擠滿了人群，個個人心惶惶，急於離開南京。

由於南京岌岌可危，衛戍司令部通令軍眷，隨國軍留守服務處先行撤離。外祖父帶領一家，由下關輪渡至浦口，前往火車站報到，搭乘火車經徐州、鄭州，輾轉南下到漢口安置。

候車時舅舅打破好一陣子的沉默，問道：爹，你怎麼不跟我們一起走。

站在一旁的母親和二姨，哇的一聲哭了起來，姥姥則頻頻拭淚。外公安慰家人：部隊裡還有很多事情要處理，你們先去後方，隨後我會與你們會合。

外公叮嚀外婆打趣的說：好好看住這箱東西，孩子可以丟，箱子不能丟。

這箱東西是光緒帝御賜給外曾祖父尹曰桂，告老還鄉的禮物，裡面較珍貴的一件，是唐寅的一幅畫作。

外公是一位彬彬樸實，質文備俱的人，高大的個子，眉清目秀。那年浦口車站，北風蕭瑟，下著初冬時節的淒冷小雨，令人倍增離愁。

白居易詩作《南浦別》：南浦淒淒別，西風裊裊秋。一看腸一斷，好去莫回頭。

在朔風凜冽下，顯得格外肝腸寸斷。世事無常，這次的浦口送別，竟成了外公與家人的永別。（33）

第24節：一代忠𩆜
萬古存

得知外祖父殉國的消息，是在民國35年夏初，我們到達瀋陽之後。於此之前，大家還抱著一絲希望，會有重逢的一天。

戰後國民政府整理南京保衛戰時，，失蹤的國軍官兵人口，證實外祖父敵前陣亡，大家只有接受這份殘酷的事實。

民國37年3月，接到國民政府頒發的榮哀狀，褒揚外袓父在南京抗戰陣亡的忠貞事蹟，為國殊堪矜式，特頒狀永誌哀榮，並由國民政府主席蔣中正簽署。

1990年4月，父母親赴大陸探親，在上海與二姨會合，兼程前往南京。在「侵華日軍大屠殺遇難同胞紀念館」的石碑上，找尋外祖父尹季和的名字。就在發現的那一刻，全都潸然涕下。次日，在南京天主堂，為外祖父辦了一場追思彌撒，遙祭在天之靈。

站在南京長江大橋上，大家眺望當年的下關碼頭，及對岸隠約可見的浦口車站，感到往事不堪回首。父親的筆記上，留下了當時的感受：「生離死別，不堪回首。滾滾長江，水逝東流。青山碧水，風景依舊。幾度夕陽，歲月悠悠」。(34)

第25節：兒女才是
心中寶

浦口話別時，外祖父叮嚀姥姥好好看住的那一箱骨董字畫，經過漢口、長沙、衡陽等地的多次搬遷，長途跋涉到了湖南湘江上的美麗小縣祁陽。在這裡住了近五個月，母親還在當地的一所中學，讀了四個月的初中課程。

房東姓徐，是位樸實的農民，有五個兒子，兩個女兒，與老伴及幼女住在一起。老大當上了國軍的少尉排長，除幼女外，其他兒女都已成家。在縣城有數幢房子，算是富農，與姥姥相處，如同家人。

民國27年10月底，武漢撤守，湖南局勢吃緊。次年元月，軍方再度將軍眷後撒至桂林，姥姥倉皇中帶著孩子離開祁陽。

南京失守前，外祖父交給姥姥的那箱骨董，卻留在租屋的小閣樓上。當想起時，所搭乘的火車已經到達廣西的全縣。

到達桂林後，立即電報給房東徐老先生，獲覆：東西仍在，請勿擔心。

沒多久傳來祁陽被日本軍機轟炸的消息，老房東的房子未能幸免，骨董也化為灰燼。

姥姥一直懊惱自責，每當提及此事，總是後悔不已。如今外祖父已經在天上與姥姥相會，必定會笑著說：妳還是把孩子擺第一，可以丟了骨董，沒丟孩子。(35）

第26節：十里洋場
大上海

民國35年3月初，正是江南春暖花開季節，我們離開南京。搭乘當時的京滬鐵路（南京至上海，全長305公里）夜快車前往上海，中間停靠鎮江、武進(今常州）、無錫、吳縣(今蘇州）。次日清晨七時，到達閘北的上海站。這是我首次坐火車，相當興奮。

來迎接我們的是大我母親七歲的晚輩尹書田夫婦，更驚喜的是二姨及二姨父也在現場，兩夫婦早我們一星期從成都來到上海。

尹書田父子抗戰前，將其紡織廠由青島遷到上海經營，成績卓著。經其安排，我們在徐滙區一個巷弄內暫住，等待船期轉往東北。

巷子內有數戶猶太人，我和大妹跟好幾位猶太小朋友玩在一起，比手畫腳也能溝通。

1938年至1940年間，納粹德國併吞奧地利，猶太人處境危急，尋求各國出境簽證，紛紛被拒。唯獨中國駐維也納總領事館何鳳山總領事網開一面，簽發了1900多份赴上海避難簽證，保住了許多猶太人的生命財產。

何鳳山為中華民國資深外交官，湖南益陽人，生於1901年，卒於1997年，德國慕尼黑大學政治經濟學博士。(36)

百樂門是抗戰之前，上海最知名的遊樂場所，舞池通宵達旦，場內咖啡濃郁，樂隊吹奏著一首接一首的爵士音樂流行歌曲，遊客隨音樂起舞。

吳鶯音、姚莉、白光、周璇、嚴華，常在此助興演唱。

走在大街小巷，商店住家處，隨時都可以聽到78轉黑膠唱片，播放的國語流行歌曲。賀綠汀的《天涯歌女》、《秋水伊人》，黎錦花的《夜來香》、《考紅》、《採檳榔》，嚴工上的《月亮在哪裡》，嚴華的《送君》、《月圓花好》，冼星海的《夜半歌聲》，劉雪庵的《何日君再來》，都是百聽不厭的好歌。

我們在上海期間，常去老城隍廟逛街，品嚐這裡的美食，當時南翔小籠包在此已有名氣。

當年的黃浦江上，還可以看見人工操漿的小船。外灘海關大樓上的定時鐘聲清脆悅耳，遠播十里之外。大世界及石庫門的弄堂遊，都留下了深刻的印象。

有一次坐黄包車，過外白渡橋，到天潼路尹書田家吃餃子，他的妻子李榮新女士包得一手好水餃，餡料是韮黃及蟹肉，另有薺菜素餃。烹調方式獨特，吃起來鮮嫩口爽，至今難忘。

入夜後的南京路和霞飛路（今淮海路)，五光十色的霓虹燈閃爍不停，車水馬龍，人來人往。有軌及無軌兩種電車，奔馳在馬路上，敲打出悦耳的鈴聲。過十字路口時，車頂上的導電桿與電䌫接觸，發出璀燦奪目的火花，構成一幅美麗的風景。

用周璇唱的一首「夜上海」來形容上海的夜晚，最為貼切：夜上海，夜上海，你是個不夜城，華燈起，車聲響，歌舞升平。酒不醉人人自醉，胡天胡地蹉跎了青春。(37)

第27節：綽約多姿
憶江南

前往東北的船期尚有五天，我們這一家包括二姨、二姨夫、舅舅在內共八人，決定利用這幾天，作一次揚州、鎮江、蘇州三地遊。

第一天上午搭乘京滬鐵路火車到鎮江，直接改搭京杭運河木船至揚州，次日折返鎮江停留一日，第三天到蘇州，第四天回上海。

當年行駛京杭大運河的木船，已有馬達驅動。江蘇境內的運河由山東台兒莊入境，經江都(揚州）穿長江到鎮江，沿京滬鐵路至吳縣(蘇州)，沿太湖南流進入浙江，歷程523公里。

揚州是父親於民國24年，初任准尉通信官，實習的地方。駐地在天寧寺，距離瘦西湖很近。唐朝詩人杜牧在揚州留有詩句：「青山隱隱水迢迢，秋盡江南草未凋。二十四橋明月夜，玉人何處教吹簫。」道盡了綽約多姿的江南風貌。

隋煬帝南遊時，曾建行宮於揚州，從此煙花繁華，粉黛笙歌，日夜不絕。所謂「天下三分明月夜，二分明月在揚州。」可見當時揚州的盛況了。

揚州除天寧寺外，還有唐城遺址、大明寺、漢墓博物館、朱自清故居。瘦西湖更是綠柳垂蔭，黃鶯飛舞，荷池飄香，微風送爽，美不勝收。(38)

次日上午我們折返鎮江，這個中國歴史上的文化名城，位於長江、運河、京滬鐵路(今滬寜鐵路)的交會處，是中華民國在大陸時期的江蘇省省會。三國時是東吳的軍事基地，近郊有金山、焦山、北固山，形勢險要，自古即為兵家必爭之地。金山有天險之稱，東晉時謝安破前秦苻堅大軍於此。

金山位於鎮江西北，唐朝時因開山得金，故名，登上金山直驅金山寺。小說白蛇傳內，許仙與白娘娘婚後由杭州搬到鎮江，開了一間藥餔，治癒許多百姓瘟疫，造福鄉梓。法海和尚與白娘娘鬥法，水漫金山寺的故事家喻戶曉。

金山寺內的大雄寶殿，建築別具風格，四方卷棚之上有諸羅漢塑像。寺側有慈壽塔，塔高七層，登高眺望，長江運河盡收眼底，氣勢恢宏。

金山寺另一景點「天下第一泉」是一冷泉，泉水甘醇，可以生飲。叢叢荷花浮於池面，每年春季搶先開花，已逾百年歷史。

隨後登上北固山，今日山下的東昊路東段，是民國24年父親就讀陸軍通信兵團教導大隊，修業習技的地方。

父親舉目眺望北固山下，面對滾滾長江，思緒萬千，八年抗戰十年歲月，往事已矣。南宋辛棄疾曾作「登北固山有懷」：「何處望神州，滿眼風光北固樓。千古興亡多少事，悠悠，不盡長江滾滾流。」此刻此景正是父親的心境。

甘露寺位於北固山麓後峯之巔，京劇中的「甘露寺」有「周郎妙計安天下，賠了夫人又折兵」的故事，就發生在這裡。

北固山下有小販的叫賣聲，用很悅耳的吳語叫着「五香豆子呱呱叫，又香又濃無處找。」母親有十年沒有聽到這熟悉的叫賣聲了，與當年在鎮江唸小學時，校門口那位叫賣五香豆子老先生的聲音幾乎一樣。五香豆子由江南名產蠶豆製成，是老少咸宜喜愛的零食。（39）

母親於民國22年隨姥姥由家鄉山東日照，移居鎮江與外公團聚。住在城東距離運河不遠，今日天橋路附近，是一幢清朝雍正時期的建築。

常聽母親的五姑尹世荃女士，我稱呼她為姑姥姥，講起這幢老四合院內發生過的一些𩆜異事件，讓人聽來毛骨悚然。

民國20年九一八事變後，畢業於保定軍校步兵科六期的外伯公(外公的胞兄）尹世鍇，出任陸軍通信兵團教導大隊中校副大隊長，大隊長係留學美國的電機碩士張汶上校。民國24年，尹世鍇真除為大隊長。

父親於民國22年考入通信兵團教導大隊，24年畢業分發，在鎮江入伍，接受陸軍通信兵職前教育。

父親在隊上年紀最輕，功課又好，有些書卷氣，且機𩆜調皮，頗受長官賞識。有一次，翻牆到營外買鹵味豬腳豬耳朵，與同學分享。不巧被尹副大隊長逮個正著，事情可大可小，長官網開一面，訓斥一番後關了一天禁閉。

尹副大隊長身材魁武，頗有威嚴，綽號叫「大肚子」。沒想到這位被罰的學生，數年後成了他的侄女婿。父親常將這段軼事趣聞，講給我們聽。(40）

第三天上午九時許到達蘇州，在此選擇遊覽獅子林、拙政園、玄妙觀、寒山寺四景點。

蘇州又稱吳縣，又名姑蘇，位於太湖東北，今滬寧鐵路上。春秋戰國時期，吳王闔閭設都於此，乃太湖流域文化、經濟、交通中心。手工刺繡及玉雕馳名，市郊平疇綠野、風光明媚，城中河渠縱橫，水鄉澤國，有「中國的威尼斯」之稱，自古以來就有「上有天堂，下有蘇杭。」的美譽。

出了車站直驅蘇州四大名園之一，建於元朝至正年間（1341-1367）的獅子林。園內有假山洞壑，樓台亭閣，曲徑通幽，水石玲瓏之美，是中國亭園建築藝術之傑作。

隨後至拙政園，也是蘇州四大名園之一，建於明朝嘉靖年間（1522-1566），採東晉文豪潘岳的「拙者為政」之意而命名。園內各式水池林立，亭軒樓閣臨水而築，亭、閣、堂、榭，均為一方之美。

黃昏之前來到玄妙觀，是一座古廟，廟前大街名為觀前街，有如上海城隍廟，各式小吃攤林立，並有南北雜耍表演，是蘇繡、茶葉及土產銷售中心。現在的觀前街夜市，已是蘇州必遊景點，次日再遊寒山寺（41）

寒山寺位於蘇州城西，京杭運河之濱。建於南朝梁武帝天監年間（502-519)。唐代詩人高僧寒山，曾來此住持，因而得名。

唐朝詩人張繼曾有一首情意清遠的詩句：月落烏啼霜滿天，江楓漁火對愁眠。姑蘇城外寒山寺，夜半鐘聲到客船。

這是張繼在一個秋夜，泊舟蘇州寒山寺楓橋附近，寫下的一首情意雋永絕美詩句，讓世人歌詠了一千兩百多年。

父親曾於民國26年「八一三淞滬會戰」時間，駐紮寺內，負責軍事電話總機接駁工作。兩件事情終生難忘：一是危機處理蔣委員長與湯恩伯將軍的通話，二是擊斃兩名剪斷電話線的漢奸。

此次勝利復元，父親舊地重逢，往事回到現實，場景依舊，人事已非，舊情不斷，相思難表。

民國79年(1990年）父母重遊寒山寺，往事已矣，父親在當年的總機房前，留下珍貴照片。

2015年父親已過世多年，母親在病中療養，我與妻及子，遊歴寒山寺，總機房仍在，同一位置拍照留念，追懷父親那段歴史。

前些日子凝視兩張照片，思念起父母雙親。回憶父親口述，我彷彿看見了父親當年的寒山寺。(42）

第三章：數番風雨
飄搖行

中華民族命運多舛，對日抗戰八年(東北同胞十四年），最終我們打贏了一場慘勝的戰爭。全國同胞只喜悅了片刻，內戰卻接踵而至，顛沛流離的生活再度重演，生離死別的故事，持續不斷。兄弟䦧牆，生不逢時，要怨誰，要怪誰，留待歷史裁判。

抗戰勝利後的東北，國共兩黨對抗已趨白熱化，內戰危機勢必爆發。

父親由於家庭背景及個人的軍事養成教育，毅然攜眷前往東北。八年抗戰大後方是我們的家，勝利後的東北，卻成了我們的最前方。

舅舅沒有同行，這年六月與二姨及二姨父去了青島，繼續完成他的高中課程。(43）

第28節：乘風破浪
奔遼原

民國35年3月下旬，我們離開了上海，搭乘前往大連的「中興號」海輪，同船的還有一個工兵營及一個通信兵連的官兵。

在此之前我對大海的知識茫然無知，對海洋充滿好奇，僅僅知道東北是個生産大豆高梁的地方。大輪船鳴笛啓航時，心中充滿喜悅。當年登船的地點是外灘十六鋪碼頭，出了黃浦江經過吳淞口(今洋山港）。外灘風景在落日餘暉下，顯得格外秀麗，有些依依不捨。過了吳淞砲台，就到了長江口，這是東海和黃海的分界處。好奇的是，船過分界線時，清楚地看到黃色的江水，頃刻間變成藍色的海水。遠方的小島，那是佘山，在大海中逐漸消失。沒多久，大船駛入黃海，天色已暗，星星出現了。(44）

船在月夜的大海上，朝向北緯38度，東經121．6度，大連方向行駛，父親在地圖上標出了這個位置。小時候容易記事，從此我學會了在地圖上判讀經緯度、海洋、島嶼、水流、天候。

海風微微吹拂，星月高空熌爍，海鷗伴船飛翔，大船破浪前進，好一個驚艷的航海之夜。

在浩瀚的大海上，太陽從水平面升起的那一刻，艙內的燈火亮了，值更的鐘聲響了，遠方的陸地隱約可見，大連快到了。

船越來越靠近陸地，就要進港了。一位東北老鄉驚訝地說：不對啊，這不是大連港，怎麼到了葫蘆島了。

靠了岸才知道，大連那邊出了狀況，蘇聯軍隊從中作梗，國軍與共軍起了衝突，我們與大連無緣。(45）

第29節：遣俘交接
動人心

葫蘆島今已升格為市，位於遼西走廊，遼東灣西岸，其西南為歷史名城興城（今隸屬葫蘆島市），興城是東北第一古城，明朝時叫寧遠，袁崇煥以紅夷大砲撃敗愛新覺羅努爾哈赤於此。

今日的葫蘆島市，是一座泳裝工業城，製作的優質泳裝佔全球五分之一，每年冬季有頗富盛名的冬泳活動。1954年中國大陸渤海造船廠，在此造成了一艘全球最大的36萬噸礦沙船。

葫蘆島水深港優，入冬不凍，與大連、營口並稱東北三大港口，內戰期間至東北失守，一直在國軍掌控之中。

下船後，我們夜宿港務局員工宿舍，碼頭工人整夜忙於搬卸貨物，灣中有數艘商船，等候進港。

炊事兵首批下船，駐地軍需官送來一袋又一袋的麵粉和高梁米，想不到在東北的第一餐，吃的是蔥油餅和高梁米稀飯。（46）

次日，一個感情複雜終生難忘的場景，出現在大家面前。一艘由國際紅十字會招租來的輪船，駛入港內，碼頭距離宿舍不遠。

午前，一列由瀋陽開來的火車，駛入港區。火車沒有月台可靠，老遠就看到各車箱內，走出不計其數的日本戰俘和日僑。軍階已被摘除，分不清是官是兵，在國軍憲兵的押解下，很有秩序的緩緩走向碼頭。

隊伍經過宿舍，我們看得一清二楚，發現日俘、日僑中，有人手持蔣主席戎裝肖像及書有「德恩難報」的紙板。尾隨其後的是，一群衣衫襤褸的老弱婦孺。1945年8月間，這些日本僑民，被放縱不羈的蘇聯軍人追殺欺辱，四處逃竄，避難於錦州的國軍遣俘遣僑中心。

隊伍鴉雀無聲，各個低頭行進。正因爲政府事前做了宣導工作：任何場所，任何時間不得對日俘日僑，做出仇視及粗暴行為。母親怒視每一個經過的日本兵，想起自己的父親，在南京陣亡，慘遭日軍殺害的那一刻。

70年後的2016年，小兒Anderson與一位日裔同事，交情不錯。這位同事提起他的爺爺，當年在中國戰場上，為日軍當華語翻譯官，經歷過很多不堪回首的往事。中國軍人送到俘虜營當奴工，沒有死在營中，還能看到中國勝利，算是最幸運的了。

當他的爺爺得知，日本無條件向同盟國投降時，先是驚恐，接而嚎哭，續而沉思。證實中國以德報怨，要遣送日俘日僑回國時，身子一直顫抖，流下了感激的眼淚。遣返的船隻駛入鹿兒島時，他卻呆若木雞默默無語。（47）

第30節：大豆高梁
遍地香

我們竟然搭上了遣俘遣僑的那列火車，由北寧鐵路（今京哈鐵路)北上瀋陽，中興號輪船上的官兵，同車轉往長春。車廂簡陋，每車只有少數幾個硬座。中途在錦州、新民兩站停車休息，行駛約五至六個小時，到達瀋陽。

抗戰時期，有許多振奮民心士氣，慷慨激昂的愛國歌曲，《長城謠》、《中國不會亡》、《義勇軍進行曲》，都是那個時候我唱的歌。《流亡三部曲》中的《松花江上》詞曲至今未忘，有時也會在聚會場合，唱上一唱。「我的家在東北松花江上，那裡有森林煤礦，還有那滿山遍野的大豆高梁。」，「哪年哪月，才能夠回到我那可愛的故鄉。」，想不到我們已經踏上東北壯麗的土地了。

列車行進在遼濶的遼南平原上，享受著三月的徐風和艷陽。遠處的高梁田和大豆田，一望無垠，和我在四川時所看到的梯田，景觀截然不同。

入夜後入宿一家旅館，不遠處有一間名為《青年館》的劇院，當時是瀋陽的頂級娛樂場所，兩層樓歌劇院式建築。有一代妖姬之稱的影歌雙棲明星白光，民國35年夏天曾在此館演唱。有當年風靡全國的歌曲《秋夜》、《好時光》、《魂縈舊夢》、《蘭閨寂寂》、《我是浮萍一片》等等，一時轟動了瀋陽各界如痴如醉的歌迷。迴廊上還掛著一幅白光的巨幅照片，旁書杜甫的詩句：此曲只應天上有，人間能得幾回聞。

《青年館》選播的間歇音樂，是約翰史特勞斯的《杜鵑圓舞曲》，僅此一首而已。節奏輕快，百聽不厭。我初識西方古典音樂，是從這個時期開始。(48）

兩天後，父親向新單位陸軍通信兵第九團團夲部出任通信參謀。民國35年6月，接奉軍職外調命令，借調交通部第二交通警察總局有線電大隊擔任中隊長，負責中長鐵路(哈爾濱至大連段，全長944公里)有線電話通訊業務。我們搬進了鐵西區交通部職工宿舍，直到民國37年4月，離開瀋陽為止。

職工宿舍在今瀋陽工業大學附近，佔地約一千餘平方公尺，有兩排日式磚造平房，每排十戶，兩排之間空地，種植櫻花樹和杏花樹各40株。每排住屋均面對一條馬路，相距5公尺，石階而上至大門，我們住在西馬路最前一幢。進門即見榻榻米客廳，隔一厚木板，距離地面約高一公尺，完全配合東北冬季嚴寒天氣而建。(49）

第31節：杏花櫻花
齊開放

四月的瀋陽，桃花、李花、杏花、櫻花各種花含苞待放，五月逐漸開花。在瀋陽有兩次看到杏樹開花結果的整個過程，享受到探果之樂。更看到櫻花萬蕾綻放，速開速落的景象。

杏花、櫻花有相似之處，都在春天開花，先開花後生葉，兩者均有五片花瓣。不同之處，杏花只有單瓣，櫻花有單瓣也有複瓣。杏花花苞為紅色，開花呈粉紅色，將謝時逐漸變白色。櫻花從開花到花謝，顏色不變。日本奈良和京都的櫻花多為複瓣粉紅色，中國東北的櫻花，多呈複瓣白色。

唐宋詩詞中，有許多與杏花有關的句子：如「春色滿園關不住，一枝紅杏出牆來」(宋，葉紹翁）。「借問酒家何處有，牧童遙指杏花村」（唐，杜牧）。「月落子規歇，滿庭山杏花」，「雨後却斜陽，杏花零落香」（唐，溫庭筠）。每個句子都具情思意境，柔婉綺麗。

唐詩中，形容櫻花的句子也不少：「櫻花爛漫幾多時，柳綠桃紅雨未知」（唐，李商隱）。「小園新種紅櫻樹，閑繞花行便當遊」（唐，白居易）。「櫻花樹下送君時，一寸春心逐折枝」（唐，元稹）。「昨日南園新雨後，櫻桃花發舊枝柯」（唐，張籍）。

瀋陽位於北緯42度，寒盡春來已是四月。杏花和櫻花，係喜暖花種，花季比華北來得晚，但晩開的花朵比較艷。

當年少不更事，把盛開的櫻花，撕得粉碎，正因爲它是日本的國花，卻把杏花插在花瓶裡慢慢欣賞。（50）

第32節：以怨報德
無悔意

侵略必敗天經地義，民國34年日本終於嚐到亡國苦果。一場八年抗戰中國損失慘重，國軍徴召兵員1400萬人，傷亡官兵320萬人，將領陣亡上將8人、中將58人、少將239人，人民傷亡1000萬人，南京大屠殺同胞喪生30萬人，人民財產損失300億美元。

政府以德報怨，寛厚待人，保留日皇制度，人道遣返日俘日僑。然而有些日本餘孽，卻不知懺悔，以怨報德。

搬進交通部職工宿舍(原日本南滿鐵道株式會社員工宿舍)後不久，我對高於地面一公尺，椒榻米之下的天地很好奇，總想探個究竟。約了鄰居小朋友一行三人，來了一次探險行動。鑽進一個長寬約40公分的排氣窗內，裡面光線微弱，陣陣寒風，都打起哆嗦來。

發現是一地下儲藏室，內有十餘個木箱，存放一些瓷器、書籍、工具等物。另有一個上了鎖的鐵皮箱，不知內置何物，經宿舍管委會報請警局處理，竟然是步槍手槍等武器。

我與母親在清理衣櫥時，赫然發現驚悚大字「我們數年後會打回來」，另有一塊畫有花邊長約10英吋寛8英吋的紙板，中央上方繪有一面日本軍旗，板內書寫一些日文。

父親請教一位日文造詣很深的同事令尊，也是鄰居的邊老先生翻譯，原來是一首歌詞，用來祭慰失去生命的神風特攻隊隊員的𤫊魂。激勵後繼者，繼續對天皇的效忠。(51)

西元1281年(元世祖至元18年），世祖忽必烈親征日本，途中艦隊遭颶風襲擊，全軍覆沒。日本人相信這是上天遣來的「神風」救了日本，因此二戰時期為自殺飛機部隊取名為「神風特攻隊」。

那面紙板上的歌詞中譯是：「櫻花肖人，非草非木，美麗蝴蝶，便是妻子。櫻花盛開，落英繽紛，隨風而去，永作芳魂。今晨飄飄，明日冉冉，櫻花櫻花，我將效汝」。

現在看來，這種死，死得毫無價值，只是一種對天皇的愚忠，無補於日本一敗亡的命運。由衣櫥中出現的「我們數年後會打回來」的字句看來，戰爭一結束，日本就埋下了軍國主義者復辟的種子。

戰後日本能夠快速從廢墟中復興重建，有着今日的繁華盛世原因很多，歸功於人民的𡚒發圖強，力爭上游，政府善用環境，運籌帷幄。不過在歴史的長河中，未來的日本，綜合其國力，將受大環境的限制，太平盛世將如櫻花一般速開速謝，隨風而去，頂多也就是另一個歐洲的瑞士而已。（52)

一件使我難忘的事，也與日本人有關。民國35年暑假，我考入瀋陽鐵西區中興小學二年級就讀。，開學前與即將成為同學的鄰居小朋友相約到一處農場採摘香瓜，金黃色的皮，肉白味甜，又香又脆。在回家的路上，遇見一對日本男女，年約50歲，雖時近黃昏，但被同學一眼看出，那是山本夫婦，有個兒子是日軍少佐。同學們火冒三丈，拾起石頭向兩人砸去，我一時情急，拿起香瓜當石頭，加入陣營。兩夫婦一語不發，低頭快步閃離。

好巧不巧一粒石頭，正好砸中婦人頭顱，立即鮮血直流，抱頭痛苦地坐在地上。我們雀躍高呼：砸得好，砸得好。

大家又砸向日本男人，他終於用生硬的東北話説出：別砸了，別砸了，快要出人命了。我的兒子都戰死在中國戰場上了，還要怎麽樣，我們下個月就要回日本了。

接下來就是一聲聲：滾回去，滾回去。回想起來，我們也做得過火一些。每當提起這些過往之事，總會聯想到，當年光復台灣，是否也有同樣事情發生。(53)

第33節：滿清陪都
史蹟多

翻開中國的歷史，外來的遼、金異族，興起時都是先攻克瀋陽。清太祖努爾哈赤（1559-1626，享年67歲），打敗明兵後，力排眾議遷都瀋陽。清太宗皇太極（1592-1643，得年51歲）在此練兵調將八年之久，一舉拿了大明江山，定都北京後，將瀋陽尊為陪都。

西元1644年，吳三桂迎清兵入關，清廷開國，皇太極之子愛新覺羅福臨即位，廟號世祖，年號順治，經十朝君主至1911年宣統溥儀退位。孫中山先生領導革命，推翻滿清建立中華民國，清朝入主中國共268年。此其間，清廷在東北的建設不遺餘力。瀋陽成為通往關內的交通中心，集工業、政治、文化於一體，留下了許多燦爛輝煌的史蹟。

清故宮、東陵、北陵、皇姑屯車站、張學良故居，皆成了古蹟景點。

清故宮是除了北京紫禁城之外，中國最大的宮殿。民國17年，國民政府開放供民眾參觀，以原有的收藏為主，成立「瀋陽故宮博物院」。

東陵是淸太祖努爾哈赤與皇后葉赫那拉的陵寢，又稱清福陵。

北陵是清太宗皇太極和皇后博爾濟吉特的安葬之地，也稱清昭陵。

兩處陵墓佈局大同小異，地勢由南向北逐步升高，石板石路，石階而上，紅牆黃瓦，氣勢恢宏，格局大氣。(54)

在瀋陽住了兩年，與父母同遊清故宮一次，與同學結伴遊福陵、昭陵各一次。當年喜歡運動，喜歡郊遊，喜歡下雪後的風景。

我頭戴皮帽，內裡兔毛，身穿羊毛襖，皮在內，毛在外，頗感奇怪。皮帽很像日本兵的軍帽，能遮住兩耳及脖子，不會受凍。

厚重的棉褲，相當保暖，脖子上圍著一條毛線圍巾。一雙棉手套，用一根細繩縫住套口邊緣，套在脖子上，防備好動的孩子，不小心遺失。

腳上蹬著用烏拉草(靰鞡草)壓製而成的雪鞋，富有人家在外層加上一整塊牛皮幫底，鞋前一排縫摺，上有一圈布腰，看來美觀豪氣。

烏拉草雪鞋形如靴子，在冰天雪地裡，走路、幹活不怕凍腳。烏拉草、人參、貂皮，是東北三寶。

雪鞋底下釘上一片鐵皮，在雪地上溜冰，尤其在結了冰的路面上，更好使用。東北小孩個個都是溜冰高手，都能表演高難度動作。冬天雪地溜冰，成了中小學生最喜愛的戶外活動。

在北陵，種植了許多梅樹，臘月時節花朵盛開。民國36年寒假，春節之前大雪之後，相約小朋友們全副冬裝，前往探訪梅花，享受一次踏雪尋梅的樂趣。

我們邊走邊唱那首由黃自作曲，劉雪庵填詞的兒童歌曲《踏雪尋梅》：雪霽天晴朗，臘梅處處香，騎驢灞橋過，鈴兒響叮噹。響叮噹，響叮噹，響叮噹，響叮噹。好花插得瓶供養，伴我書聲琴韻，共度好時光。

當年不知道這首歌的創作，來自唐朝詩人孟浩然，風雪夜騎驢過橋尋梅的故事。

東北鄉間，農民普遍飼養小毛驢，當時如能騎上小驢去尋梅，自有另番情趣。當然也體會不出孟浩然那種寧靜致遠，脫離塵煙，隠逸情趣的生活感受。(55）

清故宮西南五里，青年公園東北，今風雨壇街與熱閙街沿線，當年是瀋陽的商業中心。街道兩旁商店林立，集購物、餐飲、娛樂於一體。街道禁止車輛通行，小販可在街中央設攤售物。

民國35年冬天，我在這裏首次享受到窩窩頭、內蒙羊肉串和老邊餃子的美味。居然也看到了説書、雜耍、拉洋片、日本相撲比賽等稀奇玩意兒。我還買了此生第一張聖誕卡片，聽到聖誕老公公的故事。

我對拉洋片這種民間表演藝術，很感興趣。喜歡聽表演人站在大木箱旁邊，拉動繩索，敲打鑼鼓的聲音：「豈不隆冬嗆，豈不隆冬嗆，冬嗆，冬嗆，冬冬嗆」，以及他的唱詞「嗨，往裡面瞧，向裡面看，瞧瞧這第一張片。臘月寒冬好冷的天，前山飄雪三尺多，後山大雪把路埋。冷得老虎鑽進洞，凍得樵夫下了山」，「豈不隆冬嗆，豈不隆冬嗆，冬冬嗆，冬冬嗆，冬嗆，冬嗆，冬冬嗆」。千變萬化的唱詞，配合畫面，讓人入迷難捨。

1983年6月，這個老舊商場，已擴建成「五愛集貿市場」，與江西南昌的「洪城大市場」，「武漢漢正街市場」，「義烏小商品城」，「長沙高橋市場」，合稱為中國五大集貿市場。(56)

第34節：兄弟鬩牆
內戰起

民國10年(1921年）7月23日，中國共產黨在俄共的扶持下，成立於上海。

北伐期間，中共伺機把持中央爭取主控，滲透黃埔軍校及北伐部隊，中國國民黨逐有民國16年4月的清黨活動。隨後演變成1927年至1937年的國共第一次內戰，長達十年之久。

其間，由國民黨領導的國民政府與共産黨領導的地方政權的鬥爭，由於西安事變的和平解決，而趨於緩和隠化。

民國26年抗日戰爭全面爆發，又給中共一次坐大的機會。八年抗戰期間，中共密令各地區黨部，徹底執行「七二一方針」，七分擴張勢力，二分對付國民黨，一分抗日，企圖成立新中國的目標，從未中斷。

民國34年8月15日，日本向同盟國無條件投降。8月27日，在美國總統杜魯門的斡旋下，促成了毛澤東與蔣介石的重慶會。杜魯門希望毛蔣的會面，能夠促成國共兩黨組成聯合政府，領導一個統一的中國，確保來之不易的抗戰成果，不致淪為內戰。

毛澤東在重慶停留46天，於10月10日簽署了着名的雙十協定，表示對國共合作的誠意。

毛澤東於10月11日飛回延安，向親信談到重慶談判時稱：那只是紙上的東西。(57）

大勢所趨，二次大戰結束後，蘇聯在華有利可圖。1945年4月5日，蘇聯宣布《日蘇互不侵犯條約》不再續約。

127天之後的8月9日，蘇聯向日本宣戰。不到一週，日本於8月15日向盟國投降。隨即進軍東北，佈下陣局，接應預先兵臨東北外圍的中共八路軍、新四軍，先國軍一步接收東北。從此，國共兩軍在東北的軍事衝突，從未間斷。

同年12月，馬歇爾以美國總統特使身分，前往重慶調停。次年(民國35年）1月10日，國共簽署停戰協定，但應了毛澤東的那句話：那只是紙上的東西。雙方衝突由東北開始，更擴至全國。民國36年冬，中共發表由毛澤東起草的《中國人民解放軍宣言》，提出《打倒蔣介石，解放全中國》口號。(58）

民國37年春節過後，詭譎氣氛籠罩著整個東北天空，國軍部隊節節敗退，大批兵力向長春、四平集結，瀋陽安全受到威脅，通往關內的陸上交通，完全中斷，唯一通道只有航空一途。機票一張難求，父親使盡全力，購得一張全票四張半票，將家眷送上飛機。那天是4月5日，我們告別了父親，搭乘了一架C-47運輸機，飛往青島，投奔母親的叔叔尹鼎武（山東省日照縣流亡縣長)。

民國37年2月，東北局勢緊張，父親奉令歸建，出任陸軍通信兵第九團第一營副營長，負責瀋陽至錦州週邊地區作戰任務。

同年7月，解放軍進行長春圍城，長達三個月之久，國軍彈盡糧絕，軍民飢渴而死者，近十萬人。父親奉令馳援作戰，幸運脫困，返回瀋陽。

11月2日，瀋陽䧟共前，通九團團長聶英，暗通共軍，勸父親投靠。10月31日，父親與母親的堂叔，服務於警界的尹超民先生，連夜出城，利用各種交通工具，再加上步行，於11月16日到達北平。

11月29日，國共平津會戰起，長達64天至次年1月31日，北平失守前，經尹作幹將軍協助，父親與尹起民，搭乘同一飛機赴青島，與妻兒團聚。父親至陸軍第50軍軍部第4科，出任少校通信參謀。(59)

第35節：飛越江山
憶故人

民國37年4月5日午後的瀋陽北陵軍用機場，有三班分別飛往北平、青島、上海的飛機。傍晚時分，我們前往青島，乘客個個精神緊繃不發一語。

飛機滑向跑道，發動機的聲音震耳欲聾，加足馬力一飛衝天，像一隻大雁向南方飛去。地上的景物，越來越小，瀋陽逐漸消失在視線之外。頃刻間，想念起瀋陽的家，想念起相處兩年的鄰居，想念起老師和同學。對不可預知的未來，卻不敢想像，這又是另一次的妻離子別。

「屋前煙火欲黃昏，山頭急風來去雲。鷓鴣聲裡數家村，飛越江山憶故人」。此時此刻，俯視雲下的山河，已是烽火狼煙，哪年哪月，才能清光照耀。

當年對日抗戰，浦口一別成了永別，外公南京陣亡，姥姥帶著三個孩子，歴經千辛萬苦，數番暴雨狂風，流浪到了重慶。好不容易，快熬到抗戰勝利，姥姥卻客死異鄉。如今家國不幸，還沒有過上兩年的太平日子，母親卻要像姥姥一樣，帶著四個孩子，走上飄泊流浪之路。

「人似秋鴻無定所，事如煙雲難捉摸」，心中最掛念的是，父親在東北的安危。(60）

第36節：萬般風情
在青島

瀋陽至青島飛行里程為656公里，飛行近兩小時，入夜後到達青島四方機場(今膠東國際機場）。

由機窗遠望，一輪明月高懸，繁星點點，俯瞰地面已是燈火闌珊，正是明月逐人來，星橋燈耀時。

此日天氣溫暖，不同瀋陽四月天，一下飛機就感覺到此地氣候舒適宜人。出了機場，雇了兩部黃色車，直驅北區小港一路28號「慶昌大院」，我的外叔公尹鼎武寓所。一路上，見街道整齊清潔，處處綠蔭夾道，一片蔥蘢，花木扶疏，美景如畫。

開門的人正是舅舅，母親與舅舅見面激動，相擁而泣。

「慶昌大院」佔地約1英畝，磚造平房結構，倉庫住家合而為一。大院主人是尹氏鄉親，在故鄉日照有捕漁船隊，魚獲供應青島週邊城鎮。抗戰期間，日照就淪為中共解放區，他帶領一批親友來到青島打天下，改做糧食生意，成績斐然，商界頗有名氣，他的慶昌大院成了鄕親們初到青島時的暫棲之地。他稱呼我的外叔公為六哥，母親稱呼他為二大爺。

同外叔公一家人住在一起的，還有他的胞妹，我母親的姑姑，我稱呼她為姑姥姥。

母親見到闊別長達12年的叔叔和姑姑時，恍若隔世，嚎淘大哭，滿腹辛酸，一傾而出。當晩，由姑姥姥陪同，至院內謁見至親長輩。(61)

首先晉謁母親的四叔公尹爵生先生，這位曾任日照縣夾倉鎭五屆鎮長的公僕，育有四子二女。民國38年，除長子、次子留在大陸外，其餘均隨政府遷台。三子尹超民是母親的十四叔，服務於警界四十年，歷任省轄市警察局長及督察長。四子尹世鎰是母親的十五叔，歷任苗栗縣政府人事室主任、行政院人事行政局科長、中央造幤廠人事室主任。

另一位是母親的二姑，她是民國初年，中國第一位駕駛軍用飛機，由俄羅斯飛抵中國的飛行員尹子初的姪女。尹子初的弟弟是畢業於保定軍校步科，曾任陸軍第九師師長的尹作幹(字子固)將軍。

次日清晨，整個大院都活躍起來，上班的上班，上學的上學。姑姥姥由一位安姓外甥陪同，帶來餐點與我們共進早餐。有白麵饅頭，豬肉包子，粘粥（用大米精工熬煮成的濃稠稀飯)，火燒(一種用文火燒烤，大如麵碗般的硬燒餅)。

我從來沒有吃過山東人烹煮的粘粥，香氣撲鼻，舒潤爽口。

說起粘粥，有一段佳話。當年，聯合國國際難民組織，撥發了一筆捐款給青島市政府，購買食物給貧民。市府設點，每日淸晨供應粘粥，獲得佳評，濟南、煙台、威海各都市群起效仿。(62)

這天上午，我對這個陌生的環境感到好奇，獨自走到一間大廚房裡，見到一位年約七十歲的老太太，正在製作煎餅。她對我這個從未見過面的小朋友，問長問短，笑容可掬，是一位和靄可親的長者。她一邊烘焙，一邊對我解說，這種山東人喜愛的主食。

她蹲坐在大灶邊，有一大桶麥漿，及一個直徑約60公分，周緣2公分高的圓形大鐡板，燒的是木柴。很純熟地將一勺麥漿，薄薄的平鋪在鐡板上，大約四、五秒鐘，一張香味四溢的煎餅，就製造成了。我第一次看見山東人，將大蔥、甜麵醬、黃瓜捲在煎餅內吃，吃得津津有味。

第二天，在姑姥姥的安姓外甥，我稱呼他為表舅的陪伴下，至管區派出所申報戶口。當年戶籍管制最佳的都市，首推青島。

下午在姑姥姥及表舅的帶領下，看望安置在天門路（今延安路)難民收容中心，表舅的父母親。

表舅跟隨雙親，國共內戰時，逃離解放區來到青島。抗戰勝利後，當時的山東省政府主席沈鴻烈，開闢了這個約有兩英畝土地的難民中心，有如香港的調景嶺。（63)

天門路難民營的居民，來自紅軍解放區，帶有國民黨背景，是批鬥的對象，手法有如文化大革命時的紅衞兵。

姑姥姥的胞弟尹鼎武（尹世銘)是日照縣流亡縣長，常爭取省府及市府經費，到難民營慰問鄕親。日照縣十大家族，安、丁、牟、尹、費、薄、曹、裴、馬、王，這裡都有。

難民營有自治會、診所、郵局、小學。房舍簡陋，生活艱苦，但能安貧，力爭上游，不失鬥志。

抗日戰爭前，時任青島市長的中華民國開國元勳沈鴻烈，將距離滙泉角海水浴場，不遠處的八條馬路，闢建為住宅區。分別以長城關隘命名，以山海關路為首，嘉峪關路為尾，俗稱「八大關」。區內花木扶疏，紅瓦綠樹，碧海藍天，宅舍採花園洋房歐式建築，1980年代，馬路已增至十條，今日已成為觀光酒店區及各國領事官邸。

一個星期天的上午，姑姥姥帶領我們去八大關，謁見母親的五叔公(姑姥姥的五叔)尹東生先生，早年留學德國，曾任山東省立醫專事務主任及國立山東大學醫學院總務主任。其長子尹世銳(母親的十叔)，空軍官校轟炸科九期畢業(昆明)，歴任空軍第十大隊大隊長，松山基地指揮官，第六聯隊聯隊長。娶北京師範大學畢業，曾任屏東女中校長，台北一女中訓導主任及大誠高中創辦人的周人鏡女士為妻。（64)

慶昌大院有一對裴姓姐弟，唸小學六年級和四年級，是尹家的親戚，輩分高我一輩。姐弟倆很熟悉青島小港周邊的環境，當時我輟學在家，盼望每個週末，能一同出遊。

小港始建於1899年(清光緒25年)，位於膠州灣西南大鮑島，其北15公里是青島大港(俗稱青島港)，建於1892年(清光緒18年)，初期有3座碼頭。民國38年，青島撤退時，已擴建碼頭至15座。2017年5月11日，青島港已建設成亞洲首座，全球單體最大的全自動無人操作集裝箱(貨櫃)碼頭。全球吞吐量百大中，名列第8。

慶昌大院距離小港，步行僅10分鐘。當年行人入內並無限制，港內有漁獲拍賣場及魚市場，人潮川流不息。港內可停靠近百艘漁船和兩艘輕噸位客貨輪，有一艘由美製登陸艦改建的小客船《利春號》，定期來往於青島至上海間。

裴姓姐弟教會我，在防波堤上釣海帶。用一根長繩，繋上錨釘，用力拋在10公尺外的海邊岩石附近，錨釘沉入海底，再輕拉上岸，一串串綠色晶瑩的新鮮海帶，就呈現眼前，那份喜悅無言可喻。多半用乾蝦米，配以麻油、醬油、醋、蒜等佐料涼拌而食。

小港一路及小港二路上，可見許多漁船公司。還記得有一幢五層樓建築，白色側牆上書寫約一公尺見方的五個黑色大字「中央信託局」。

中國有三大漁市，青島、沈家門(舟山群島)、海口，屬青島漁市最大最具規模。有良好的冷藏設備，面積兩萬平方公尺，緊鄰小港碼頭。半夜𥚃漁船返航忙着卸貨，凌晨拍賣中心熱閙起來。拍賣員嘴裡唸唸有詞，是一種拍賣口訣，一般人是聽不懂的。買賣雙方各有表情，有的笑容可掬，有的還口出三字經。(65)

住在慶昌大院期間，常跟姑姥姥和母親去漁市場買魚。不在乎提菜籃，純粹是去看熱鬧。去看一看市場內的買賣交易情形，也辨識一下五花八門的魚類形態。

在這個長約300公尺，寛約40公尺的大廳內，邊逛邊看每個攤位，至少也要花上兩個小時。

紅色的花鱸，白色的帶魚，黑白條紋的石斑，藍色的雀鯛，黃海的大黃魚，太平洋的鮪魚，海龜，龜蛋，讓人看得眼花撩亂。

使我最感興趣的是對蝦，有筷子一般長，較大隻的一條就有半斤重。産在黃海，日照縣周邊海域是主要産地，肉實質嫩味美，勝過大龍蝦，是海鮮中的珍品，行進時成雙成對，因而得名。

青島有個釣魚的好地方，位於中山路南端，有一棧橋延伸至青島灣中，長約400米。2012年11月，使用GPS精確測繪，引堤長216米，寛8米。南段透空橋長147．3米，寛11．5米，總長390．5米。始建於1892年（清光緖18年），橋南端有一宮殿式圓型樓閣，為青島著名景點「迴瀾閣」。橋上垂釣者絡繹不絕，走在橋上可以看見遠方輪船川梭灣中。當年還看到兩艘美國軍艦，停在灣中。

我和大妹亭如及裴家姐弟相約到此釣魚，整個下午，人持一竿，頗有收穫。(66）

青島最具特色的就是公園綠地多，較具規模的多達十一處，其中以中山公園及海濱公園最具盛名。

中山公園位於市南區，初建於1901年德國殖民時期，是一座林業植物試驗埸，1912年對外開放。1914年日本佔領青島，將其命名為「旭公園」。1922年青島主權回歸中國，改名為「第一公園」，1929年再度更名為「中山公園」至今。園內有專區果園，每年三、四月間，桃花、梨花、杏花、蘋果花盛開，富林木花草之勝，並附設中國第一座動物園及第一座四季花卉玻璃屋。另有一條長達200公尺的櫻花路，四月上旬萬花奔放，1930年代已頗富盛名至今。2010年代，中山公園每年的客流量，已達200萬人次。

海濱公園建成於1931年，在中山公園西南，沿海邊而建，長達一公里。東臨第一海水浴場，內有中國第一座水族舘(今為青島海洋科技博物館)，園內亭榭、青松、幽徑、花木、碧海、紅礁，兼具園林及自然之美。

我在青島期間，曾三次光臨此地，一次隨父母，兩次隨學校郊遊，至今仍然念茲在茲，盼有重逢之日。(67)

民國37年暑假，舅舅陪我參加插班考試，進入青島私立育英小學就讀三年級。這是我自抗戰勝利後，三年內就讀的第四所小學，沒有完完整整的讀完任何一個學年。直到民國39年9月，進入苗栗鎮大同國小四年級後，至民國51年3月財務學校畢業，前後13年，慶幸能在一個安定的環境下，順順利利完成學業。

戰亂時期的孩子，生不逢時，四處飄泊流浪。我的舅舅，民國26年入小學一年級至民國37年，前後12年，讀了7所學校，斷續跳級唸到高中一年級。這年夏天，大他22歲的堂哥尹德涵，推薦他到顧祝同將軍創辦的揚州祝同中學，繼續唸完高中。

尹德涵時任黃伯韜第7兵團司令部辦公室主任，徐蚌會戰時期授命撰寫黃伯韜絕命書，化裝農夫，與25軍副軍長楊廷宴，夜奔南京，面呈蔣介石總統。

舅舅到了祝同中學後不久，成了流亡學生，與魯東地區各中學師生會合，由各校校長帶領，以行軍方式，邊走邊乞，經江蘇、安徽、江西，前往廣東。民國38年7月初，我們卻在湛江與舅舅見了面。(68）

民國37年11月2日，父親由瀋陽經北平搭機飛抵青島，當天就傳出瀋陽失陷的消息。兩天後，即赴陸軍第50軍軍部第4科，出任少校通信參謀官。

一週後，父親分配到一處位於鐵山路的眷舍，我們搬離居住了七個多月的慶昌大院，姑姥姥也與我們同住。

眷舍原是一間香煙公司廢棄的場房，當時工廠仍在生產卷煙。公司始建於1919年，屬大英煙草股份有限公司，與上海、天津的卷煙廠合稱「上青天」，1976年已遷廠至株州路137號。眷舍內有八戶人家，鄰居是一位曹姓連長，有一兒一女，均在唸小學，我們很快玩在一起。

這家卷煙工廠生產的香煙叫「大前門」，為了促銷，每包香煙內，各置一張水滸傳108條好漢的彩色畫片，集滿全套可兌換菲立普腳踏車一輛。

鐵山路上有一間雜貨店，兼做小人書（連環圖)出租生意，十幾個小小板凳，坐得滿滿的，我和曹家小哥，常去光顧。還記得有《火燒連環船》、《水淹金山寺》、《蘇武牧羊》、《三藏取經》等等。(69)

信號山公園是青島的著名景點，位於市南區中央位置，海拔98米，德國佔領時期，為指揮進出膠州灣的船隻，在此設立發號台。此處風景秀麗居高臨下，可遠眺膠州灣。

有一次表舅帶我們遊信號山，居然也看到民間藝術拉洋片的表演，動作跟瀋陽所見一模一樣。

老頭兒拉起繩打起鼓，唱道：「嗨，細細地看，慢慢地瞧，有位大姑娘在洗澡，解了擺裙脫大襖，細皮嫩肉身材好，小伙子晚上睡不著，俺可管不了」。咚咚嗆，咚咚嗆，豈不隆咚，嗆，嗆。

山東人的詼諧，雅俗共賞的語言，幽默豪爽的個性，表現無遺。

我們還看到一頂大帳篷，裏面擺著二十幾張大長板凳，至少可坐上百餘人。有位傳教士站在篷外拉客人，請入內聽福音。入口處左右各有大大的紅字，「耶穌愛世人」，「信耶穌得永生」。在那個混亂不安的年代，找尋心𩆜慰藉的人，還真不少。

表舅還教我們跳秧歌舞，這種陝北民間藝術，流行於中共紅軍解放區。進兩步，退一步，扭腰擺臀，雙手拿著手絹，左右晃蕩的舞步，還真夠韻味，勁道十足，不知何方神聖編出來的。

秧歌舞的歌詞更絕，應和了時代的需要。如果用山東老侉的唱腔唱出，北方人的豪情，盡在曲中，旋律曾編入北京交響樂團演奏的「黃河交響樂」各樂章中。

歌詞是「達達娘娘不用愁，俺出門子自己走，來了花轎我不坐，扭上個秧歌唱上個歌，唱上個歌」。(達達娘娘，爹爹媽媽之意）。

另有一歌詞是「扭呀扭呀，扭呀扭。一扭扭到十八九，不知婆家哪裡有，俺就跟著八路走，跟著八路走」。(70)

父親來到青島，比起瀋陽時期更為忙碌。民國37年的秋風颳得特別早，11綏靖區的前線，國共兩軍接觸戰不斷，父親一直住在營區。

父親總會抽空回家，看望我們。除了去了一趟中山公園外，還與父親的同事暨家眷，遊覽了一次勞山。勞山又稱嶗山，位於青島以東20公里，海拔1130公尺，山巒重疉壯麗，景色宜人悅目，遍山種植桃樹李樹及梅樹。勞山是中國道教名山，道觀大小11處，尤以上清宮、太平宮、白雲洞最富盛名。上清宮之南，有龍潭飛瀑，遠眺近觀皆宏偉壯觀。

勞山東南40公里的黃海中，有一島嶼，名為塔連島，即傳說中秦始皇認為的蓬萊仙島。當時因交通不便，未能成行，如今可搭遊船前往。

父親喜歡聽京劇，而且當過票友。當年青島有一家永樂戲院，名伶顧正秋駐院演出時，父親曾陪同姑姥姥和母親，兩次前往聽戲。

顧正秋，民國18年10月5日生於南京，民國105年8月21日卒於台北。本名顧祚華，上海戲劇學校畢業，當年才20歲，已有名氣。專攻青衣，《鳯還巢》、《漢明妃》、《三娘教子》是她的叫座戲碼。民國38年，顧正秋去了台灣，想不到台北市也出現了一個永樂大戲院，顧正秋在內駐唱。

有一次表舅帶來一打瓶裝青島啤酒，孝敬姑姥姥，也請大家一起品嚐。青島啤酒中外馳名，用勞山泉水及頂級大麥，加上一種名叫酒花的植物，經過發酵醸造而成，飲後口齒留香。青島撤退時，劉安祺曾帶了一批到台灣，存放在公賣局酒廠，用於招待外賓，823砲戰時，仍有存量。(71）

民國37年9月12日至民國38年1月31日，中共發動三大解放戰役，國軍節節退敗。民國37年10月18日長春失守，11月2日瀋陽、營口䧟共，同日廖耀湘9兵團增援錦州，10萬大軍被圍。11月6日國軍全面撤出東北，遼瀋戰役結束。

民國37年11月6日及11月29日，一個月內，中共二野及三野部隊發動淮海戰役(徐蚌會戰)及平津戰役（平津會戰)，情勢危及青島。

父親決定將眷屬先行送往上海，姑姥姥及尹鼎武(外叔公)家屬共9人，於12月下旬，在一個奇寒的下午，搭乘「江蘇輪」前往上海，我們這個家族，再度踏上流亡之路。

入夜前，父親及外叔公，話別了家人，背影從人群中消失。大輪船起錨鳴笛，緩緩駛離碼頭，正是華燈初上時候。此行去上海，前途未卜。（72)

第37節：上海重逢
兩樣情

民國35年3月下旬，父親以抗戰復元，赴東北接受新職的身分，擕眷由重慶經上海轉赴東北。

勝利後的上海，黃浦江的船隻，穿梭不息，外灘的燈火，光彩奪目，迷人的夜上海，讓人沉醉。

民國26年「八一三淞滬會戰」之後，上海曾淪入日本人之手。正如巴黎被德國人佔領之後，並未影響到它的國際地位，繼續正常發展。日本投降了，我們來到上海，心情是愉悅的。民國37年12月，我們與上海重逢，感覺卻是沉重無比。

也不過是兩年八個月的時間，我們卻為了躲避內戰，繼八年抗戰之後，再度成了飄泊流浪的難民。

四書《孟子》云：國必自伐，而後人伐之。意思是，一個國家必先是自已傷害自己，而後外來勢力乘虛而入。真不願意看到中國之命運重蹈覆轍，苦的是百姓的流離失所無家可歸。

十六舖客運碼頭原貌依舊，前來迎接的是尹書田夫婦及丁肇昌夫婦。次日，我們前往上海西北約15公里的真如鄕下，一個陌生的地方，暫時窩居下來。(73)

母親記得很清楚，民國37年12月22日，也是陰曆冬月22日，又逢冬至，一個奇寒的下午，冬夜最長的一天。我們登上由青島前往上海的「江蘇輪」，孩子們雖然穿上棉衣，但仍然抵擋不住碼頭上的寒風，冷得直打哆嗦。

大人們更加上一層精神上的壓力，此時此刻姑姥姥的侄兒尹德涵，正在徐蚌會戰的戰場上，生死未卜。外叔公的女兒，尹德涵的胞弟，我的舅舅，正走在流亡學生的路途上，情況不明。

來到真如鄉下，沒有電力供應，小收音機派不上用場，要走上20分鐘到小鎮上，買份報紙，了解一下平津戰役及徐蚌會戰的戰況，誰知道報導的是真是假，青島的安危又是如何。

做妻子的，做姑姑的，做母親的，做姐姐的，心中卻是一連串的牽掛，孩子們不時的喊著「想爸爸」。

外叔公尹鼎武叮嚀尹書田，視戰況預做後撤的準備，協助家屬直接到廣州或到台灣。當時，尹書田已做好將上海的紡織工廠，遷廠至台灣的準備。(74）

我們在真如的家，與一條通往上海的公路相去不遠。三排平房呈U字型，缺口朝南，一條小路通往一大片菜園，再往南行是一條小河，河水潺潺，河岸柳蔭。一座木橋連結兩岸，對面是大片竹林，一幅江南景色，呈現面前。距離鎮上小街尚有一段距離，難得去上一趟。房舍未接電力，用的是井水，時逢上海金元券貶值，一日三市，生活䧟於困境，不得不縮衣簡食，節儉度日。

母親的嬸嬸，貴為縣長夫人，也放下了身段，每日與母親同赴竹林，撿拾枯枝落葉，回家當柴燒。我卻背着竹筐，收取一些棄於菜園中的菜幫菜葉，回家烹飪。最有趣的是，到山坡上挖掘野薺菜，拿回家請姑姥姥包餃子，之後數十年，還沒有遇見過，有新鮮薺草餃子可吃。

在真如居住不過三個多月，我再度輟學，最大的收穫莫過於聽姑姥姥講家鄕的故事，和在解放區被批鬥遊街的經過，沒想到都成了我日後撰寫文章的最佳素材。(75)

民國38年1月29日，己丒年正月初一，適逢春節。之前的1月10日，徐蚌會戰結束，黃伯韜、邱清泉殉國。1月14日，天津失守，同日毛澤東向政府提出八項條件，要求南北分治，國共合作平等共管。1月21日，蔣介石在輿論的壓力下引退，李宗仁代理總統職務。

事態發展至此，華北愁雲慘霧，國軍䧟入苦戰，中共軍已挺進至淮河以南，長江北岸，並積極擬定作戰計劃，渡長江取南京奪上海。這年，我們渡過了一生中，最不太平的新年。

民國38年3月，江南天氣仍然寒冷，空氣中瀰漫著一股濃濃的肅殺之氣。住家附近的公路上，打破沉靜，連續數日，運兵車不斷向上海外圍集結。坦克車的屣帶壓在碎石子路面，發出咯吱咯吱的聲音，像一群飢渴疲憊的獅子，朝天咆嘯。我們意識到，上海將有戰事。

一個週末的下午，我們接到外叔公和父親的聯名電報，囑「即刻離滬，速回青島」。在當時的情勢下，尹書田已安排我們南遷，為何作此決定，想來必有原因。(76）

民國38年春節過後，尹書田就工廠南遷一事，進行規劃。在諸多因素的考量下，在海南島、廣州、台灣三地中，他選擇去了台灣。

我們卻因外叔公及父親的一通聯名電報，未能與尹書田同行，折返了青島。

民國38年4月3日，我站在利春輪的甲板上眺望外灘，在斜陽的催航下，上海逐漸消失在視線之外。辭別了真如鄉下，一個有著我人生歷練，留下深刻記憶的地方。

1998年我自巴拿馬移民洛杉磯，在一項回顧上海歴史攝影作品展中，我在1949年時的外灘照片前，回想起當年搭船離開黃浦江時的情景，心有所感，作了一首七絕抒懷：黃浦江上白雲間，愁見孤城落日邊。吹笛何須怨楊栁，重逄時日待何年。

總以為此生再難回到上海，幸福之神給了我機缘，65年後的2014年，小兒Anderson外派上海工作，三年之內我和妻，去了上海四次。（77）

第38節：風雨飄搖
辭鄉土

民國38年4月4日，利春輪於清晨時刻，駛進青島外海，右前方大公島上的燈塔，斷續地閃著強光。青島，我們又重逢了。

外叔公、父親、表舅在碼頭邊迎接我們，眼前是我熟悉的青島小港。不遠處的漁市場，仍然人進人出，熟悉的街道，熟悉的店面，熟悉的環境，是如此的親切。

在鐵山路上的眷舍，軍方已分配其他人居住。我們又進住慶昌大院，原來住過的地方。

次日在表舅的陪同下，我再度回到育英小學報到。學校並沒有因為我缺課太多而刁難，順利復課讀三年級下學期。

在慶昌大院沒住上一個月，父親的長官，時任十一綏靖區作戰處的翟處長，其內侄因時局不穏，要結束青島商務，不巧又遇上翟處長母親過世，兩人回香港奔喪。在江蘇路上的一幢西式洋房，一時未能賣出，希望我們暫時遷入。四月底我們搬進了這幢洋房，房子在一小山坡上，有24個石階通往坡下馬路。落地窗戶，家具新穎。室外花木扶疏，景觀宜人，𣾀泉海灣盡收眼底。翟處長尚未銷假，青島就撤退了。

翟處長治軍嚴厲，對部屬決不縱容，但愛䕶有加。他對先父極為賞識，要求也特別嚴格。有一次當着衆人面前，將父親所擬公文丟在地上，要求重寫，總有三個來回。父親對比初擬及改批後的公文，確實是多一字不可，少一字不行。因此父親的公文簽擬作業，是全軍最優秀的少數之一。(78)

巧的是，母親的堂姐尹德淑（尹德涵的胞妹)就住在江蘇路的海關宿舍內，距離我們的新家近在咫尺。我稱呼尹德淑為大姨，大姨父丁肇箎服務於財政部海關總署。我們在上海真如期間，由蘭州調職青島。

大姨父有兩個堂弟，一是在上海當醫生的丁肇昌，一是在美國的丁肇中，得過1976年諾貝爾物理奬。大姨及大姨父英語文均佳，結識了不少外國朋友。

我們由上海返回青島後不久，鐵山路附近的一座美軍營房，一夜之間被激進的職業學生聚眾包圍洗劫一空。肇因於數位高中女生，被美國大兵強暴污辱。趁機再一次掀起了民國35年12月的北大女學生沈崇事件。

未多久，大姨的一位同學，是美軍太太，先生服役於美國第七艦隊。倉促地在電話上與大姨話別，當晚就與先生，隨單位去了日本冲繩。

民國38年4月的青島機場，飛機起落頻繁，華北地區政府機關人員，均往青島異動，種種跡象顯示，靑島即將撤離。

民國37年11月，東北遼瀋會戰結束，11月2日及6日，瀋陽、錦州相繼失守，三天後解放軍佔領東北全境，內戰戰場移至華北，平津戰役及徐蚌會戰同時爆發。危機當前，為保存實力，層峯隨即草擬撤離青島戰略計劃，其內容之縝密，執行之確實，人員撤離除八萬精兵外，還包括各領域專家學者近兩萬人，目的地去台灣。

青島撤退是中華民國國軍戰史上輝煌的一頁，被世界輿論形容是：可以媲美，繼敦克爾克大撤退之後，又一次成功的戰略撤離。(79)

民國38年5月28日，父親匆忙地回到家，叮嚀母親收拾衣物整理文件，一切輕便從簡，等候軍方指令，隨時準備上船，隨後趕回部隊。

沒想到這一天，卻成了我在育英小學最後一天上課，最後一堂課是音樂。老師姓劉，記不起她的名字了。她神色凝重，走進教室。點完名後沒有立即教課，卻問同學有多少人要離開青島，28位同學將近三分之一舉手。她教唱了一首取材於德孚札克《新世紀交響樂》的世界名曲《念故鄉》。

唱著唱著，老師哽咽落淚唱不下去了。老師說出了她的一段經歷：八年對日抗戰，日本人還沒來青島之前，她辭別了爹娘，前往大後方，一面讀書一面工作，完成大學學業，好不容易捱到抗戰勝利回到青島，父親卻過世了。如今時局吃緊，母親年邁又在病中，我不能再一次離鄉背井，必須留下來照顧媽媽。

因有諸多因素的考量，走與留之間，困擾著太多的家庭和個人。一位市立普濟醫院的主治醫師，認為共産黨不會拿他怎麼樣。另一位海事學校的教員卻說，共產黨也不是洪水猛獸，怕什麼。但是大多數有著國民黨背景的人，不走也不行。感嘆咱們中國人，為何一直重複扮演著這種聚散離合的悲劇戲碼，哪年哪月才能罷休。

秦觀寫了一首傷離的詞：此去何時見也，襟袖上，空染啼痕。傷情處，高城望斷，燈火已黃昏。

數十年後，台灣開放大陸探親，傷情啼痕的情景，已屢見不鮮了。（80)

姥姥有一位侄孫于景春，民國38年與其舅舅隨軍撤退至台灣。當年僅14歲，在部隊裡當了一名傳令兵，經過「國軍隨營補習教育」，獲得高中學資，考入陸軍官校。退役時已官拜上校，育有一兒一女。五十年後的民國88年，與妻小返鄉探親，母親已高齡九十，雙目失明。

于景春雙膝下跪，依偎在母親懷裡，一聲「娘，我回來了」隨後放聲大哭，哽咽地說「我帶著妳的媳婦和孫子回來看妳了」。

老媽媽的手，觸摸着兒子的臉，久久顫抖不停，說道「好，好，回來就好」，「孩子們，來，來，讓我來摸摸你們」。

當天，走往一處山坡，看到的是父親的一座孤墳。

追憶往昔人生淒愴，恍如隔世。寫下詞句：五十年生死兩茫茫，不能忘，常思量。爹娘，爹娘，年年斷腸。千里孤墳，省親日，短松岡，話淒涼。(81)

第39節：關鍵一戰
振軍心

中國有三大半島，分別是山東半島、遼東半島及雷州半島。在軍事防衛上，半島難攻易守。青島位於山東半島之南，又是半島中的半島，三面環海，北有群山，佔有地理上的優勢。

青島撤離前，十一綏靖區司令長官劉安祺，就設下三道防線，用以抵制解放軍的進撃，延緩解放青島的步伐，為撤退青島爭取更多的時間。

民國38年春節過後不久，一場事關青島撤退的戰役，發生在城陽防線，支援防務的270師808團，打了一場成功的殲滅戰。

戰役發生前，情資顯示，即墨週邊解放軍，頻繁集結。研判數日內，共軍將發動戰爭。國軍即刻進入緊急狀態，嚴陣以待。劉安祺指令素有「活閻王」之稱的「808魔鬼兵團」黃團長，擔任此役指揮官。

某日破曉時分，果不其然，解放軍在陣前1000公尺處，步入攻擊發起線。黃團長嚴格規定，不得躁進，沒有他的命令，絕不可擅自開火。

解放軍逐步向前推進至900公尺，800公尺，直到500公尺射程範圍內，國軍仍然不動聲色。挺進至400公尺，300公尺，200公尺，國軍還是紋風不動，緊張氣氛令人窒息。

進入100公尺範圍，解放軍開始衝鋒，黃團長一聲令下，機關槍、迫擊砲、手榴彈，全線齊發，加以揚聲器助陣，殺聲震天。解放軍全軍覆沒於陣前，無一兵一卒幸免。

此次戰役，各營級以上主官受邀觀戰，先父是作戰處通信參謀官，亦在觀戰之列，見證了戰役經過。之後數月，解放軍不再輕舉妄動，越雷池一步。為日後的青島撤退，提供了有利的條件。(82)

第40節：重編密碼
逆轉勝

民國38年2月初的一個星期五，當天適逢立春。十一綏靖區司令長官劉安祺，召集團級以上部隊長及相關人員，在青島仙家寨50軍司令部舉行擴大軍事會議。開會時間訂在上午十時，開會前10分鐘，各出列席人員全部到齊。

會議時間已過15分鐘，仍不見劉安祺出現，卻接到一通電話，司令座車拋錨，會議延後一小時，於是各員在附近活動，舒展筋骨。

豈料就在此時，從天飛來兩枚砲彈，正好落在會場，造成九名軍官輕重傷不幸事件，劉安祺躱過一刼。

劉安祺趕到現場，卻見一片狼藉。第一時間召見先父，劈頭就問：陳參謀，你吒搞的，我差點沒命呢。為啥咱們的一舉一動，共產黨弄得一清二楚呢？你倒說說看。

先父回答：可能我們內部有匪諜，通信密碼已落入敵手。

劉安祺説：我也這麼想，你可以改密碼嗎？

回：我可以改，但密碼是國防部頒發的，屬極機密，我不能擅自更改。

劉安褀動火了，爆了粗口：去他奶奶的，什麼國防部不國防部，將在外君命有所不受，你懂嗎？你給我改，後天此時交卷。言後，恕氣沖沖的拂袖而去。

這天，先父通宵達旦，用他自己的方法，將常用字、軍事俗語、部隊番號，作了關鍵性的更改。經過反覆核對，認為確實沒有問題後，按時繳了卷。

經批可後，先父由一名保防官陪同，將新密碼，以專車送達各部隊主官。同時全軍啓動《迅雷演習》，訓令洩密者，以戰時軍法處理。

這份經過更改的密碼，並沒有向國防部報備，自啟用後，一直到青島撤退，解放軍始終無法破密。(83）

第41節：流亡學生
話傷感

民國37年8月，在青島「日照臨時中學」就讀初中的尹無愧（母親的堂妹，外叔公尹鼎武的長女）辭別了父母，轉學至揚州祝同中學，與就讀高中的兩位堂哥同學。

未料徐蚌會戰爆發，祝同中學與山東、安徽、江蘇七所中學，臨時組合成「八大聯中」，開始避禍遷校。八所學校路經濟南、徐州、蚌埠等地，沿途整合至南京，完成會師。

這支有著兩千餘名師生的隊伍，長途跋涉兩千餘公里，行經魯、皖、蘇、贛、閩、粵六省，吃盡人間辛苦，走過艱險難路，最終流亡至澎湖，再轉往台灣。

行動前經過精心策劃，一切前置作業後勤支援，都在節約原則下行事。各校校長及教職員帶領學生，高年級生協助低年級生，沿途相互照顧。

時光彷彿回到抗日戰爭時期的學校大遷徙，流亡學生餐風露宿，顛沛流離的歴史再度重演。(84）

這支學生隊伍雖係臨時編組，卻紀律嚴明。由各校派出專人組成聯絡組，專責前置作業，協調沿途地方政府、機關、學校、部隊，給予支援。另組成後勤組，負責粮粖運輸，醫療護理。

學生大隊分四個支隊，各組各隊配備手槍、步槍，作必要防備。炊事起灶，紮營拔營，各隊自理。流亡之路，繞過中共華北八大解放區的淮北、蘇北兩區。

整合後的隊伍，自南京出發，順原京贛鐵路（今京九高鐵支線），沿長江東岸進入安徽，到達蕪湖已是民國38年1月6日，這天適逢戊子年臘月初八，節令小寒。再過四天的1月10日，徐蚌會戰結束。

經過長途跋涉，隊伍紥營國立安徽大學（今安徽師範大學），休息一天後，繼續行程。（85）

1月8日，學生隊伍離開蕪湖，距離出發日已整整兩個月，較預定行程晚了許多，沿途雖安全無虞，卻有糧食危機。唯有就地採購，樽節開支，雜糧、地瓜、芋頭、豆腐、白菜、蘿蔔，能夠果腹充飢即可。

隊伍仍沿長江東岸，向西南行，經銅陵，貴池(今池州）入境江西。預計1月20日可達九江。

1月17日近黃昏時刻，路過一個名為香口的小村莊，距離目的地彭澤縣城，尚有一段路程，只好紥營，次日續行。

一場突如其來的大雨，來得不是時候，帳篷進水，個個成了落湯雞。天氣又冷，肚子又餓，埋鍋做飯已無可能。

當務之急，驅寒取暖，充飢飽肚。在此荒郊野外，即無生火之柴，更妄想喝上一杯紅糖生薑水，防止感冒。

總得想個法子，出去找找看。我的兩位舅舅（尹德滋及尹德浩），會同數位同學，向小村子走去。也顧不得那麼多了，挨家挨戶敲門，向大嬸大媽說明身分，乞討一些飯渣剩菜。

村子裡的人很親切，大碗大碟地往同學們的飯盒子裏裝，紅糖生薑也有了。回程在樹林子裡，撿拾一些枯枝碎木，回到帳篷。這晚，大家吃了一頓五味雜陳的晚餐，有人狼吞虎嚥，有人眼涙落在碗裡。（86）

1月20日，學生隊伍進入江西省境，到達九江，要在這裏停留兩日。男女生分別在一間中學的大操場及大禮堂紥營。

第二天晚間，為了紓解連日來的勞累，舉辦了一次月光晚會。

一位高年級的同學用口琴吹奏了一首由夏之秋作曲，任天道作詞的抗戰歌曲《思鄉曲》。純熟的琴技，動人的旋律，緊扣同學們心弦。大家附和着口琴聲，低吟地唱出：月兒高掛在天上，光明照耀四方。在這個靜靜的深夜𥚃，記起了我的故鄉。

抽泣聲來自一些女同學，都想家了。無愧姨（舅舅的堂妹）哭出聲音了，對舅舅說：三哥，我想家，我想爹娘。

她跟德浩舅一樣，臉色發白，發著高燒，咳嗽不止，顯然是前些日子的一場大雨，受了風寒。

當晚，無愧姨及德浩舅均高燒不退，緊急送醫。醫生囑：必須住院留診。

次日，學生隊伍繼續行程，舅舅卻留了下來照顧，痊癒出院已是五天以後的事了，三人無奈地退出了流亡行列。搭車到濟南轉往青島。

這支隊伍於1月28日，戊子年除夕前一天，到達南昌。(87）

民國38年1月28日，戊子年除夕前一天，隊伍首梯次到達南昌湖濱公園紥營，除夕日第二梯次進駐中山公園（今八一廣場），兩地隔著一條建於民國17年的安石路(今八一大道）。

除夕夜同學集中在中山公園渡除夕，在營火中、歡樂中、吃水餃渡過。

除夕聚餐中，張敏之校長以「信心的飛躍」和「生命的考驗」來激勵同學。另一位鄒鑑校長，則以孟子所說：「天降大任於斯人也，必先苦其心志，勞其筋骨，餓其體膚，空乏其身，行弗亂其所為，所以動心忍性，增益其所不能。」來鼓勵同學。

1月31日，這支學生流亡隊伍，重新編組，分成兩個支隊。一支順贛江南下，經贛縣（今贛州），過梅嶺關，入境廣東，經曲江，到達廣州，後搭船去了台灣。

另一支塔火車至鷹潭，順鷹廈鐵路入境福建至廈門，經金門到達澎湖。(88）

第42節：飄洋跨海
過台灣

民國38年5月下旬，招商局旗下一支有着15艘商船的龐大船隊，奉令駛進膠州灣，停靠在青島大港各個碼頭待命。

5月31日，將近傍晚，一輛軍車停在家門前，母親帶著我們，與事先聯絡好的大姨父一家三口加上舅舅，上了車直駛碼頭，停靠在海宿輪旁，等候上船。

那晚，船上船下燈火通明，戒備森嚴，部隊、物資、軍眷、民眾，很有秩序地逐次上船。有一隊炊事兵，挑着籮筐，連同鍋、碗、瓢、盆一起上了船。

我們被安置在一輛十輪大卡車上，航行期間就生活在這輛車上。安排後，父親就急忙下了船，回到司令部作戰處。

外叔公尹鼎武，這位日照縣長，昔日的抗日游擊司令，如今是32軍獨立旅上校副旅長，帶着他的子弟兵，連同他的眷屬，上了海牛輪。（89）

民國38年6月1日星期三，我們在船上渡過端午節。外叔公的岳母呂老太大，為我們帶來了粽子、煎餅、饅頭和茶葉蛋，我們享受了一次航行中最豐盛的一餐。

6月3日星期五，日落後，國共內戰史上最亮麗的一次青島大撤退，一聲令下，開始行動。最後一個步兵旅和一座電台，一面打仗，一面撤退。接應的船隻正是海牛輪，也是載運國軍最後駛離青島港的一艘船。在此之前，船隊已於兩小時前，駛入青島外海。兩艘驅逐艦，在海面掩護地面部隊，撤離上船。當時的中共還談不上，有作戰能力的海軍。

這一支船隊，搭載了近八萬名精兵，一萬多名各界精英，航行了833海里（1543公里），每小時以25公里的航速，全程62小時，駛抵基隆港。（90）

船隊平穩地行駛在一望無垠的黃海上，船與船之間保持著一定的距離。部隊不像在陸上那樣，有空間活動，都在半靜止狀態，唯獨通信及政工部門，仍在忙碌。

司令部所屬一級單位，設在海宿輪上，為船隊指揮中心，電台與海軍䕶航艦艇及各單船之間，保持24小時聯繫。政工官分別到各座艙內，講述中國近代史、中共竊國史及軍歌教唱。

船隊過了黃海，進入東海海域，行程走了一半。船隊正通過舟山群島，船尾有海鷗跟隨。當時舟山群島，仍有國軍駐守。

在月色中，星星顯得格外明亮，遠方漁船，點點燈火，像一條遊走海上的金龍。

伙房一日供應三餐，餐餐豆腐乳、花生米、蘿蔔乾、小魚乾，為了果腹，別無選擇。台灣鳳梨罐頭，在船上還是首次吃到。

我向大姨父請教，台灣有什麼出產。回：生産可多了，香蕉、甘蔗、稻米、鳯梨、西瓜，多得數不清。

台灣有什麼好玩的地方。阿里山、日月潭、關子嶺、碧潭、陽明山，多得講不完。

抗日戰爭期間，小學的課本上有「台灣糖，亮晶晶，甜在嘴裡，痛在心。」的句子，那是我初次對台灣的粗略印象。

1950年代有一首台東民歌，由羅家倫填詞的「台灣好」，由張琪唱出，民國70年代被鄧麗君唱出了韻味，曲調輕快悠揚，歌詞反映出當年的寶島台灣。對比今日台灣，感慨萬千啊。「我愛台灣同胞呀，唱個台灣調，海岸線長山又高，處處港口都險要，四通八達有公路，南北有鐵道，太平洋上最前哨，台灣稱寶島。四季豐收蓬萊稻，農村多歡笑，白糖茶葉買賣好，家家戶戶吃得飽，鳳梨西瓜和香蕉，特産數不了，不管長住和初到，同聲齊誇耀。阿里山峯入雲霄，西螺建大橋，烏來瀑布十丈高，碧潭水上有情調，這也妙來那也好，什麼最可驕，還是人情濃如膠，大家心一條。」。(91)

經過近60個小時的航行，6月6日拂曉，太陽從海平面升起。船隊駛入彭佳嶼海域，距離基隆港尚有兩小時航程。

此時甲板上、船欄邊、船頭、船尾全站滿了人。

和平島在望了，過了和平島就是基隆港。船速慢了下來，緩緩駛入港區，進港時下著細雨。港區四周山嶺環抱，形勢天成，青山翠綠，風景宜人。碼頭建設，媲美青島。

部隊先行登岸，數十輛軍用大卡車輪番運送部隊進駐營區。我們一家人則住進了火車站對面的一間旅館。

這天晚上，一夥人相邀上街找個飯館，享受一次基隆的海鮮大餐，看看基隆的夜景，舒解一下連日來的疲憊。

走出旅館，看見行人個個腳蹬木屐，走起路來咔嗒咔嗒作響，活像馬兒散步的聲音，清脆悅耳。我們信步走到附近一家餐館門前停下，斗大的霓虹燈在閃爍，招牌上寫著「情願來酒家」，大家都笑了起來，大姨父說道：這個名字取得好，取得好。

是一棟兩層樓的店面建築，看來不像吃飯的地方。大姨父問了問站在門前的小夥計，「這𥚃有飯可吃嗎？」。「有，有，有吃飯，有喝酒。請進，請進。右手邊上樓，就是情願來酒家」。

走上樓梯，大姨父打趣地說：「借問酒家何處去，小夥手指情願來」，大家哈哈大笑。原來在台灣，酒家就是有酒可喝的風月場所。既來之則安之，反正是純吃飯，況且還帶著家眷，老婆大人盡可放心。

上了樓，一位中年婦女走了過來，見我們一群人中，有女士也有小孩，覺得奇怪。問道：先生，是來吃飯的嗎？父親回答：是的，我們純吃飯。

我們被安排在靠窗的一張大圓桌前，可以看見窗外的港灣夜景。

我們請老闆娘介紹一下台灣菜的特色，上了一些招牌海鮮和時菜。沒想到有四位打扮入時，身穿高衩旗袍，儀態不俗的小姐，來為我們服務，簡直伺候得無微不致。在這種情況下，父親給了每人一枚袁大頭小費。她們可樂了，一再說：謝謝，謝謝，下次再來。

回到旅館夜已深了，聽到外面有竹笛的聲音，是一位討個溫飽，做按摩生意的盲人。還聽到沿街叫賣的小販，出售熱肉粽子的吆喝聲。（92）

我們走在基隆市的街道上，看見道路以忠、孝、仁、愛、信、義、和、平命名，再配以數字。例如忠一路、孝三路、仁五路、愛六路，認起路來，就方便多了。

要說日據時代，全台各地路名最難記的，首推基隆。老一輩的基隆人，住了20年，仍然記不起來，不知那條接那條。台灣光復後，政府將其更改，沿用至今。其中有一條愛八路，引起爭議，跟愛八路軍有關，這條路已更名為劉銘傳路。

劉銘傳（1836-1896）生於安徽合肥，是淮軍的著名將領和台灣巡撫，洋務派骨幹之一。擔任巡撫期間，1887年（光緒13年）興建中國第一條，以載客為主的鐵路，首段基隆至台北。

在基隆，我們停留了十天左右，趁機遊覽台北市附近景區，碧潭、烏來、陽明山等。部隊整補後，於六月中旬，隨軍搭原船，開赴廣東省雷州半島東北方的湛江市，舅舅也與我們同行，大姨父一家留在台灣，去了海關總稅務司署工作。外叔公一家人，也跟隨部隊，駐防海南島。(93)

第43節：南國椰林
舞婆娑

民國38年6月16日清晨，我們再度搭上海宿輪，仍然住宿在原來的卡車上。由於少了大姨父一家人，生活空間大了許多，所見的依然是熟悉的面孔和熟悉的環境。

船起錨了，一聲鳴笛緩緩駛離基隆港。基隆，後會有期。

此行目的地是廣州灣的湛江，航程660海里（1222公里），兩天兩夜後到達，一路平順，並沒有遇上南中國海常有的巨風大浪。

船駛經澎湖外海，漁民作業近在咫尺。澎湖由大小64個島嶼組成，是台灣海峽的咽喉，地勢險要，戰略上佔有重要位置。

船駛經東引、馬祖、烏坵、金門，出海峽，進入南海海域。

南中國海，白天陽光熾熱，黃昏夕陽艷紅，夜間星月爭輝，碧海藍天海風輕送，海鷗白雲伴船而行，南海月夜讓人沉醉。

舅舅是一位小提琴愛好者，拉得一手好琴，他走向船欄，望着大海星月，奏出一首俄羅斯作曲家雷姆斯基珂莎可夫(Rimsky Korsakov 1844-1908)的「印度之歌」。曲子的中譯是：那遙遠的南方國度，有無窮的寶藏深藏海中，美人魚住在那裡，鳥兒也在飛舞。在碧海深處，在光輝燦爛的島嶼之中，動人的歌聲不停地唱著，聽著動聽悅耳的歌，在碧海藍天深處。(94）

在一些愛樂者的催促下，舅舅又演奏了一首普西尼（Puccini 1858-1924，義大利作曲家）的「星光閃耀」：星光閃耀，大地飄香，田園的門吱嗝作響，腳步輕輕撫過沙地上，她帶著陣陣幽香，投入我的懷抱，甜蜜的吻，深情的愛，我顫動地揭開那遮住美麗軀體的薄紗。

是一個黎明時刻，船隻進港鳴笛的聲音，驚醒了我們的睡夢。滿天星斗牽引著藍色的天空，左前方燈火點點，連成一串，遠望過去像一串閃爍的真珠，又像天空中的一道銀河。

海濱大道與航道平行，在微光中，海濱大道的椰子樹，在海風吹拂中婆娑起舞。太陽從右前方的樹叢中，緩緩升起。清晨的湛江，披上了一層薄紗，甦醒在淡淡的朝霧之中。

湛江，舊名廣州灣，1883年(清光緒9年)，中法戰爭後，中國外交失利，法國強行租用廣州灣99年。

62年後的1945年，抗日戰爭勝利，中華民國收回廣州灣，更名為湛江。(95）

中華民國在大陸時期的湛江，分為西營、東營兩部份，有如上海浦西和浦東。西營為都會區，東營為農業區，兩者有很明顯的區別。

當年的湛江港為一等港，港內水域寛闊水深浪靜，深及20公尺，但碼頭設施不足，萬噸以上船隻，無法靠岸，必須拋錨灣中，旅客、貨物由駁船接駁上岸。

部隊、車輛、裝備，由海軍運補小艇接往東營，眷屬隨司令部一級單位，被安排在西營。我們暫時住在濱海大道上的一間旅館內，等待軍方分配眷舍。

今日的湛江，全市面積1．32平方公里，人口754萬(2018年)，是中國大陸唯一的熱帶海濱城市。中共建政後，1983年東營成為湛江市的坡頭區，東接吳川，西靠湛江灣，南臨南海。1984年11月29日，中共國務院核准成立「湛江經濟技術開發區」，是中國沿海14個開發區之一，昔日的農業區，面貌一新，成了工業生產園區。今日的湛江港也是中國十大貨櫃港之一，而且是重要軍港，南海艦隊總部所在。（96)

六月下旬的湛江，已經進入夏季，陽光普照烈日炎炎。駁船還沒有靠岸，就看見一群小童，光著身子，在沙灘上淺海中嬉水追逐。街上行人，衣著樸素，年輕女士小姐，個個都紥著一根長可及臀的大辮子。

我們住進市標大鐘樓附近的一間旅館，旅客進出頻繁，聽到的全是廣東話。想不到我的廣東話，卻是向一位湛江人學的，其人係吾妻吳秀蓮。

梳洗後，一家人去逛街吃飯。父親在櫃檯換了一些零錢，一塊錢鉛銀(有帆船圖案）可兌100個銅板，一小紙筒20個。打開一看，相當驚訝，卻是清朝的錢幤。有廣西省鑄造的道光通寶，雲南省鑄造的光緒通寶，江西省鑄造的宣統通寶。

「有沒有搞錯，是什麼年代了，還用這種錢」，櫃檯先生笑了，說道：這是省政府財政廳想出來的好點子，近兩年來物價飛漲，一日三市，紙幣成了廢紙，逼得大家要跳樓。老銅錢能夠在巿面上合法流通，既可保值，又可懷古。

我們順著海濱大道往南行，法國式的房屋建築，襯托在藍天碧海之中，幽美靜謐的景緻，有如置身於歐洲某一個海濱都市。

再往西南方走去，信步來到一間電影院前，正上映著于素秋的《荒江女俠》。被戲院前的水果攤、小吃攤吸引，每個攤位都置一盞氣燈，光亮四射。有現削零售的鳳梨和椰子水，更有荔枝、龍眼、釋迦，烤香腸、酥炸蝸牛，讓你目不暇給。(97）

我在連環圖裡，看到唐玄宗的愛妃楊玉環，喜歡吃荔枝，派人遠從嶺南騎加急快馬，一站接一站，將新鮮荔枝遞送至長安的故事。在此之前，我沒有見過荔枝的模樣，來到湛江終於看到它的真面目。

杜牧有一首詩，形容當年送荔枝到長安的情形：「長安迴首繡成堆，山頂千門次第開。一騎紅麈妃子笑，無人知是荔枝來。」一國之君竟然為了一位妃子愛吃荔枝，旨令專人從産地，每日傳遞三千里至京城，真是荒唐至極。

北宋詩人蘇軾，因文章詩作獲罪入獄，眨至嶺南，嚐到荔枝美味。以《荔枝嘆》一詩借古諷今：「十里一置飛麈灰，五里一堠兵火催。顛坑仆谷相枕藉，知是荔枝龍眼來。飛車跨山鶻橫海，風枝露葉如新採。宮中美人一破顏，驚麈濺血流千載。」詩中提及龍眼，推斷楊貴妃也喜吃龍眼。龍眼又稱桂圓，樹形與荔枝相似，皆屬無患子科常綠中喬木，亞熱帶地區才能生長。廣東、福建、台灣，產量都很豐富。

湛江有著法國殖民地時期遺留下來的風情，尤其表現在飲食習慣上。湛江人喜愛法式烹調，喝咖啡及下午茶。蝸牛料理，也是餐桌上的美食，湛江人比法國人更懂得吃蝸牛。

戲院前的攤販上，也可以吃到用熱油炸酥的蝸牛美食，吃法也比法國人高明，用一根竹叉子，將蝸肉挑出，去除尾端黑色部分，沾點魚露，爽口有嚼勁，美味至極。

湛江也是盛產海蜇皮的地方，由一種屬於腔腸動物的水母製成。以薑絲、醋、麻油佐伴，相當可口，是一道可以上大桌的海鮮涼菜。

水母，學名叫「海哲」，體型像一把小雨傘，色澤透明，游走時像表演水中芭蕾。牠會放射出微量毒汁，捕捉小魚小蝦果腹，會隨著海潮游到岸邊。如果被牠咬傷，皮膚會疼痛紅腫。

有一次我與妺妹弟弟，跟當地小朋友在海邊嬉水。突然間，小朋友一夥兒奔跑上岸，發現是一群水母來襲，我們慢了一步，被螫得哇哇大叫。

我們在西營，雖然只停留了短短的十天，卻留下美好深刻的回憶。

隨後，司令部一級單位移駐東營，我們一家人連同舅舅，也去了東營。(98）

第44節：小鎮古樸
離喧囂

民國34年(1945年），中華民國政府收回廣州灣，法國全面退出，更名為湛江。當年湛江灣兩岸的交通，依靠帆船運輸。西營與東營各有碼頭一座，上午吹西南風，下午吹東北風，因此帆船上午由西營開往東營，下午由東營開往西營。

帆船順風而行，走的是斜角，兩岸碼頭也成斜角設計。在蔚藍的天空下，碧綠的海面上，風帆逐浪而行，東營的沙灘椰林，歷歷在目，把人們的心情，帶進一個平和的境界。

當年的東營碼頭，僅能停靠五艘中小型木船，其中兩艘係軍方運輸艇。從碼頭到小鎮，只有一條雙向行駛的碎石子公路，行程40分鐘。公路緊鄰海岸線，兩旁種植椰子樹和棕櫚樹，透過樹林空隙向灣中望去，漁船、帆船、輪船穿梭其間。公路以東是果園，荔枝、龍眼、鳳梨、釋迦，果香四溢。

父親的一位學弟廣惠民，在東營鎮上，為我們找到一間民房，竟然在公共汽車終點站的小樓上，是一棟法式磚造樓房。站前有一處停車場，站內有候車室及售票窗口。

小樓三面窗戶，陽光充沛，空氣新鮮。左前方是一塊平坦的台地，被樹林圍繞，有一條小路與公路連接，是每週一次趕集交易的地方。

小樓右方，有兩棵巨大的龍眼樹，果實長到二樓，粒大汁甜核小肉厚，正臨住家走廊右側，伸手就可採擷到。

車站附近有一所小學，朗朗的讀書聲，在家中就可聽到，我常到學校走動，還認識了一位小朋友。學校使用的教科書，居然跟青島育英小學使用的一模一樣，但是老師卻用廣東話教學。(99）

俗話說：「林深鳥自來」，住家近處的樹林中，大白天也會傳來不同的鳥兒鳴聲。不遠處的村子裡，夜晚會傳來狗吠聲，黎明時刻更有鷄啼的叫曉聲。給這個寧靜的鄉下，增添了幾分活力。陶淵明的田園詩寫道：「結廬在人境，而無車馬喧」，正是這種寫照。

趕集是這個南方小鎮民衆生活的一部份，在趕集活動中，可以看到人情的溫暖，平和的節奏，井然有序的生活步調，民風的純樸。

每週日，天未亮，挑擔子的、騎腳踏車的、推人力車的、趕着牛羊的，從各個村落，到達趕集地點。各自都有自己的攤位，有的搭起貨架，有的席地擺攤，有的將牛羊栓在樹下。攤位排列整齊，有十行之多。一天的交易，就此開始。

這裡沒有討價還價，淸朝的大銅錢相互流通。瓜果、蔬菜、鷄蛋、魚蝦，都估堆出售。鷄鴨鵝論隻計價，牛羊大件就有議價餘地了。牙刷牙膏，毛巾肥皀，鍋碗瓢盆，菜刀剪刀，一應俱全。還有挑着剃頭擔子，替人理髮的。人來人往，熙熙攘攘，好似舉辦一次嘉年華會。

小鎮有一條長約200公尺，寛約10公尺的住商小街。紅磚舖地，兩層樓的明清建築，黑瓦灰牆，古意盎然。木雕招牌，用不同的字體，由右至左書寫。還有布招，像一片一片旌旗，上寫「酒」、「茶」、「米」、「當」等字。小街上還有茶樓、酒家、雜貨舖、理髮店、中西藥房，還有一間小郵局及一座派出所。(100）

有一次去理髪，店內只有兩把躺椅，天氣熾熱又沒有電扇納涼，但是老闆有辦法，雇用一位小朋友，拉動一個用竹葉編織成的正方型太扇葉，用螺絲及彈簧將扇葉固定在木梁上。扇葉一端有一粗繩，小朋友一拉一鬆，扇葉就來回擺動，呼拉呼拉地搧出風來，還真涼快。

7月下旬的某一天中午，樹林裏的蟬聲遠播，我們享受着徐來的輕風，聽着知了知了的叫聲。紅紅的太陽，透射過樹林，顯得格外艷麗。父親接獲通知，告訴我們收拾行囊，兩三天內，登船轉赴廣州。

曹植詩有如此描述：「悠悠遠行客，去家千餘里。出亦無所之，入亦無所止。浮雲翳日光，悲風動地起。」我們跟隨著父親，跟隨著部隊，一站一站地飄泊，過着萍蹤浪跡的生活，像一隻倦飛鳥兒，找尋不到安適的去處。父親是軍人，以服從為天職，我們又是軍眷。在那種時空環境下，似乎我們決定不了命運，只能向前，這不正是曹植詩中的寫照嗎？

民國38年7月31日，我們登上了台灣船務運輸公司的「高雄輪」，離開了湛江，前往廣州。(101)

無巧不成書，天下就有機緣湊巧的事發生。有一次我們到西營去逛街購物，在茶樓飲茶，舅舅巧遇他在祝同中學時的好同學董毓明，還有他的姐姐董毓芬及姐夫劉先生。

董毓明與舅舅同是流亡學生，在江西分別後，去了香港。姐夫劉先生在香港有洋行，與越南有貿易往來，在湛江有分行。董毓明負責越南業務，有意增加人手。因此舅舅就在湛江，有了一份好的工作，也就沒有與我們同行。

自民國37年4月5日，從瀋陽飛抵青島那一天起，我們就過著飄泊流浪的生活。16個月內，從東北至華北，再到華中和華南。航經渤海、黃海、東海和南海，中國大陸海岸線1萬8千公里，幾乎走了一遍。下一站又要去廣州，往後再往何處去，完全不知。(102)

第45節：珠海長堤
荔枝灣

高雄輪的值更鐘響了，船正通過萬山群島，過了伶仃洋口，珠江口在望。接近虎門砲台時，看到許多小島小礁內外錯列。

虎門地勢險要，是廣州的屏障。過虎門船速緩慢下來，約1小時駛抵黃埔港。

黃埔是廣州都會區外的一個小鎮(今屬廣州市黃埔區)，民國13年黃埔陸軍軍官學校，創校於此。

靠岸時，軍方車輛已在碼頭等候，軍眷依序上車，穿越市區，直奔廣州市百子大樓。

百子大樓是一座四層樓建築，佔地約7萬平方英尺，當時是廣州數家銀行的宿舍兼倉庫，被軍方租用，闢為營區，部份為眷區，營區與眷區用障礙物分割。

百子大樓在今日的中山一路梅花村內，不遠處是陳濟棠的官邸，一座四層樓的花園洋房，佔地5610平方公尺，1993年被列為廣州市文物保護單位。

廣州是華南第一大城，人口1530萬，面積7434平方公里，是台北市的27倍。自2016年起連續入選GaWC國際大都會名單，2018年被評為Alpha級世界一線都市，2020年成為該級別全球排名34的大都市。在中國大陸的排名，僅次於北京、上海、深圳。

中國第三大河珠江，流經廣州城西的白鵝潭，在城內分成南、北兩支流，在魚珠小鎮會流出海。

廣州多寺院，城西南有五羊祠及穗石洞。傳説古時有五位神仙，駕乘五色羊來到穂石洞附近，棲息於一寺廟內，寺中有五石，為五羊所化，因此廣州簡稱為「穗」，別號五羊城。(103）

眷區面對大馬路，對面有兩棵大榕樹，樹下有一雜貨舗，除了銷售一般用品乾貨外，還供應豬腸粉、雲吞麵、燒賣之類的小吃，味美勝過湛江。

雜貨舖在一座小山坡下，山上佈滿野花及含羞草，搭配一叢叢紫色牽牛，風景宜人。水田池塘依山而建，塘內種植的是空心菜，開白花。田埂𥚃有小螃蟹及小魚蝦。

初到廣州，處處都覺得新鮮，首個週末，父親領著我們沿珠江長堤，遊覽這十里洋場，車水馬龍的繁華市景。

海珠大橋，當年是廣州的市標，橫跨於珠江之上，原橋於民國38年10月，廣州棄守時，被國軍炸毀。現今的海珠大橋，已修復重建，目前廣州的跨江大橋已有十座之多。

入夜後的珠江，霓虹燈影，映入水波。江上浮舫泛舟，漁家居於舫上，夏夜晚風吹拂，皓月當空，傾聽漁歌晚唱，有如置身南京秦淮河上。

沿珠江長堤，酒樓茶肆，鱗次櫛比，當年最有名者當推紅棉酒家，大宴小酌，門庭若市，紅棉佳餚，食在廣州，名不虛傳。

廣州城西有一湖泊，名為荔枝灣，今已更名為荔枝湖公園。水光瀲灩，煙波淡蕩，夾岸荔樹，綠葉成蔭。盛夏荔枝成熟，遊客爭相擷購，饒富情趣。傍晚時分，清風搖曳，夕照映霞，湖上彩舫穿梭，船娘撥漿其上，遊人划櫓而行，船娘遊客相對吟唱，彷彿在杭州西子湖上。(104）

黃花崗位於廣州市北郊白雲山（今黃花崗公園)，是清宣統三年（1911年）辛亥廣州起義，七十二烈士安息之地。墓地以大理石砌成，四周綠樹成蔭，氣勢恢宏，令人肅然起敬。白雲山中，頗多寺院，晨鐘暮鼓，香火繚繞。梅花盛開之際，賞花人不絕於途。當年曾兩度造訪，留下深刻印象。

林覺民是七十二烈士之一，從容就義前，留下「與妻訣別書」及「原愛」兩文，讀來令人動容，感人肺腑。這正是「一腔熱血千行涙，浩然正氣塞蒼冥。烈士為國捐身軀，碧血黃花灑忠魂。」目前國共兩黨對辛亥廣州起義，都有正面解讀，中國共産黨一直尊稱孫中山先生為革命的先行者。

當年廣州，街頭巷尾，男女老少，多著黑色衫褲，色澤滑潤，既黑又亮，貼身涼爽，易洗免燙。這種布料，是廣東順德的特産「香雲紗」。

香雲紗是一種多年生草本植物，莖葉粗硬，可用來蓋屋頂，學名叫「薯莨」。草根熬汁可染綢紗，叫「薯莨綢」，或叫「拷紗」，又叫「香雲紗」。

2002年，北京舉辦國際時裝節活動，香雲紗經過服裝設計師的精心設計和模特兒的展示，一夕之間轟動中外。(105)

第46節：苦風悽雨
捲殘雲

民國38年6月，十一綏靖區的一支國軍勁旅，由青島撤守至廣東，以廣州為軍令中心。不到兩個月，派駐至廣州灣的一個師團，為了配合戰略上的需要，緊急移防廣州，防務由粵系部隊接替。

從當時的國軍兵力佈署來看，西南的川、桂、滇、黔四省，西北的甘肅，浙江及福建沿海島嶼，海南島及南海諸群島，均在國軍掌控之中，還有反攻一搏的機會。「希望不到絕望關頭，絕不放棄希望。」深信總有王師北定中原之日。

另一方面，6月15日，中共中央在北京召開政治協商會議，為積極籌備成立中華人民共和國相關事宜作準備。8月5日，美國發表「美國與中國的關係」白皮書，表明對中華民國的立場，對國軍十分不利，可說是情勢危殆，風雨飄搖。

面對局勢的急速丕變，在廣州，這支紀律嚴明，訓練有素的劉安褀部隊，卻能不畏險惡，團結一致，沉着應戰，與粵系、桂系部隊互動良好。與解放軍並沒有大規模的接觸，但小型戰鬥頻繁不斷。我們在百子大樓的眷區內，每晚都能聽到營區部隊晚點名唱軍歌的聲音。這支部隊正是270師808團，團長有「活閻王」之稱。(106)

九月下旬的一次軍事會議，決定了一項至關重要的作戰計劃，以鞏固廣州軍力為基調，結合粤系桂系部隊，合力清剿粤北解放軍二野部隊。後因諸多因素，演變成自中華人民共和國建政以後，第一個國共戰役，陽江戰役。

10月1日以後的羊城，軍隊與民間的表現截然不同。一方是整軍經武加強備戰，另一方則是歌舞昇平紙醉金迷，十里洋場燈紅酒綠，茶市銀樓生意興隆，港幤美鈔互滙流通。劇場院線場場爆滿，上映的是「帝女花」、「二度梅」、「出水芙蓉」、「北非諜影」、「血染海棠紅」、「大涼山恩仇記」，熱鬧景象處處可見。民眾已不在乎是國民黨主政，或是共産黨主政了。

「老陳，收發報機賣不賣？」經管武器彈藥的槍砲官李少校對父親說。父親訝異「你說什麼，我沒有聽錯吧」。

「我說收發報機賣不賣？一部十根條子（一根條子十兩黃金)」，父親有點火了「違法的事，我辦不到」。

「老陳，是什麼時候了，我們的部隊能打得下去嗎？」，「不賣白不賣，反正這些東西，遲早都是解放軍的」。真讓人痛心疾首，這一號人物，時窮之時，真面目就浮現檯面上了。

情報官何治齊，對父親說：其二兄，共產黨已經打到廣州外圍100公里以內了。敢緊將大嫂和孩子送走吧。

一語提醒了，正在忙進忙出的父親。

半月前的軍事會議，誘敵入甕的戰略，未能如願。粵桂部隊各採山頭主義，按兵不動，未能給劉安祺部隊任何支援，因此戰線縮小，解放軍兵臨城下，廣州危在旦夕。(107)

民國38年10月12日下午，父親穿梭在珠江的臨江大道上，幾乎在絕望中，發現一家船公司門前有個告示牌：聽日（10月13日)，有開往湛江客輪，意者內洽。

真是喜出望外，買了船票，奔回百子大樓。全家人立即展開撤離行動，收拾了一些衣物及簡便行李，匆忙上車趕赴碼頭。

離家前，媽媽給爸爸一條稍早就縫製好的棉布束腰帶，中間縫入兩錠各二兩的金塊。父親說用不著，媽媽堅持要爸爸收下，說道：外面兵荒馬亂的，或許你會用到它。

父親把這條束腰帶，塞進了褲袋。碼頭擠滿了人潮，我們上了一艘排水量僅有一千噸的小船。

一路上所見，廣州城依舊是萬家燈火，霓虹燈絢燦奪目，一片車水馬龍歌舞昇平景象。人們並沒有意會到，共産黨就要入廣州城了。

父親跟我們逐一話別，我們感受到一股強烈的依依離情，父親的背影在人叢中消失。母親提及這段往事時，曾經引用白居易的「南浦別」來形容當時的心情。「南浦淒淒別，西風裊裊秋。一看腸一斷，好去莫回頭」。(108)

第47節：西風蕭蕭
離廣州

這一晚，母親在船上徹夜未眠，反覆地翻閱父親交給她的一個小本子，上面記載着舅舅在湛江的電話號碼，外叔公在海南島的住址，親友們在台灣的聯絡方式。好像在裡面才能找尋到安全，才能慰藉心中的恐懼。

10月13日，第一道曙光驅散了清晨的月光，遠眺東方的海珠大橋，經過陽光的透射，橋影倒盪，水光瀲灩。小船起錨，順珠江緩緩向東南行，見一白髪長者，憑欄感嘆：江山無限，別時容易見時難。

小船上的人，個個精神緊繃，擔心小船能否平安駛出珠江口，聽說解放軍就要進城了。各種不確定的因素，使人心生恐懼，母親臉色蒼白，十分憔悴，不發一語。

天色漸暗，小船駛經黃埔，再越虎門要塞，見兩岸峰巒峭壁，滿谷迴音，山上已有點燈人家，一排漁船燈火通明，酷似海上金龍。斜月高掛天際，滾滾江水直奔大海。江山有恨，流水無情，小船奔向浩瀚的南中國海。（109)

第48節：敗兵殘將
漠河邊

父親與我們話別後，立即返回眷區的家，收拾了一些衣物，匆匆忙忙到了辦公室，已近午夜。司令部已下達指令，作緊急撤離。當晚通宵達旦，電話鈴聲不斷，父親再也沒有回去我們的家。

13日晨八時許，十餘輛各型軍車，排列在操場上，人員個個戰鬥行軍裝備，依序登車。父親與作戰處同事同在一車，開往西南方佛山的公路上。

這是一次大部隊的移動，一個軍團的兵力，要在短時間內，向西撤退四百餘公里，到達湛江，路上必定會遭遇到可以預知的狀況。雖然事先已有周密的沙盤推演，但仍然是一次艱鉅的任務。

兩個精裝團，一個機動旅加上一個工兵營及一個通信連，早八個小時已先行開拔。司令部官兵及眷屬，於上午十時許，全數離開廣州城。中午時分，一個工兵連，炸毀海珠大橋，殿後撤離。

先遣部隊由九江經鶴山，往陽江方向挺進。路上並不順利，大小橋梁，全遭破壞，前進速度緩慢下來。工兵部隊舖路搭橋，疲於奔命。十三日中午，部隊只推進到開平附近。

一個無線電連在九江公路上，接應父親，改搭一輛電台通訊車，後隨兩輛中型吉普，組成這次任務的通信指揮中心，隨部隊挺進。

大部隊移動最忌停滯，這支機械化的勁旅，所有重型車輛，無法行駛便橋，只得沿途丟棄燒毀，部隊只能以急行軍方式向前推進。軍眷也被迫步行，無法跟上部隊，落後30公里，由一步兵連䕶衞。通信指揮車也遭到同一命運，遺棄在路旁。父親帶領少數官兵及一部流動電台，奉令與司令官同行。（110)

十三日晚間，先頭部隊已通過恩平，向陽江行進。其餘部隊於次日（14日）清晨，才緩慢通過恩平，軍眷還在恩平城外30公里。此時這支大部隊的縱深卻長達80餘公里，給了敵軍大好機會。

陽春、開平方面的解放軍快速部隊，將國軍分段衝潰，並在陽江城西漠河邊，設下重兵，以阻斷國軍先頭部隊渡河。至此，全軍已無法掌控，最可悲的是軍眷，四處竄逃，不知去向。此時，10月14日中午，解放軍進了廣州城。

此次國共兩軍，激戰18小時，國軍傷亡慘重。解放軍掃蕩戰場，被俘國軍官兵不計其數，只有一個團突圍成功，其餘未能越過漠河，此役在國軍戰史上稱為「陽江戰役」。

反觀司令官劉安祺，帶領了數位軍、士官，往陽江海邊奔去，包括作戰參謀張國英，工兵營長倪世英，通信參謀陳其二，情報官何治齊，電台台長傳興中及一名收發報員，一名搖機兵。

陽江港三面環山，一面向海。劉司令官的一雙鞋子都跑掉了，赤著腳蹲在海灘上，兩眼呆滯，狀極狼狽。幸好，兩位略懂廣東話的士官兵，事先徵得一艘小漁船，候在岸邊。

劉安祺急呼：「叱辦(怎麼辦)，陳參謀，叱辦」。先父回應：「一直在聯絡中，研判附近應該會有海軍巡弋」。

此時已經是入夜十點鐘左右，是個下弦月的晚上，海浪拍打著石礁，激起浪花，颯颯作響。(111）

遠方山頭傳來強力揚聲器的喊話聲：劉安祺，你們已經被包圍了，逃不了的，趕快繳械投降。

隨後又播放了一段軍歌，劉安祺似乎有點精神恍惚，說道：叱搞的，咱們的部隊在晚點名？

張國英回答：是八路軍在播放義勇軍進行曲。劉安祺有些訝異：叱，共産黨也唱這首歌？

此情此景，真有一份項羽圍困在垓下的悽涼。

陳參謀一聲「聯絡上了」，大夥兒一陣歡呼。海軍一艘軍艦正候在陽江外海，急忙上了小船。

基於安全快速，避免超載翻船，陳參謀、何情報官、傅台長留了下來。

張國英撂下一句「馬上回頭接你們」，三人苦守在岸邊，望穿秋水，小船再也沒回來。劉安祺脫險，解放軍追兵已到，先父將身邊的一盒收發報機備用真空管砸毀，成了解放軍的一名俘虜。(112)

第49節：月映池潢
念妻兒

一隊八至九名的解放軍，全副武裝，由後方斜坡奔向海岸，三名國軍軍官沒有一絲反抗，束手就擒。摘除軍階後，跟隨這隊人走往一個村莊，在一個曬穀場前，與其他一百多名被俘者，集中在一起，很多都是熟面孔。

一位解放軍連長，叫大家席地而坐。隨後一位指戰員，教大家唱歌，曲名是「解放區的天空」，唱一句跟一句。有人提問「有沒有歌譜？」，回答「什麼歌譜不歌譜，跟著我唱就對了」。

這天下午，有一連串的訓話，要求大家自我交代。晩餐後，為了方便管理，防止潛逃，所有人被趕進一個大池塘裡，水深及腰，等待第二天後送。

時令已進入陰曆八月底，寒露已過。地處粵西近海的陽江，下弦月的夜晚，有一股寒意。

父親站在水塘裡，看見月亮投映在水中，想到未知的命運，不禁顫抖起來。此時此景，想起妻兒幾天前搭上的那艘小船，是否安全駛離廣州？是否平安到達湛江？在茫茫大海中，會不會出狀況？愈想愈疑懼。此情此景，豈只是悽涼，且是悲愴。

父親的記事夲中，有這樣的追述「池潢水中月，思妻又念兒。小船當此夜，滄海嘆息時。」深刻地表達了父親當時的心境。此時是民國38年10月15日深夜，那艘小船正在湛江港外海。(113)

「老陳，逃!」一句低沉的聲音，在父親耳邊掠過，父親沒有反應過來。接著又重複了一次，這才知道是怎麼一回事了。

「逃到那裡去？」，「跟著我走就對了」。何情報官的提醒，頓時使父親清醒，「好，行動」。

一個躍身，一前一後，跳離了池塘。充分利用地形地物，快速躱進小樹叢裡，沒有驚動衞兵，也沒驚動同袍弟兄。

「下一步怎麼辦？」父親問道。「到陽江城買船票啊！」，「錢呢？」。老何回答「你摸摸你的束腰帶」，父親恍然明白，是指父親話別妻兒那晚，母親交給父親的兩錠金塊，金塊是母親親手縫合在一條束腰帶裡。

天未亮之前，趕到陽江城內一間民宅內。這位廣東籍的識途老馬，常到開平、恩平、陽江一帶出差，蒐集情報。

兩人換上便服，用完早餐，直奔陽江城內一家船公司。兩塊金錠換了兩張當天上午前往香港的船票，入夜之前到達香港。

在前長官退役少將翟處長的協助下，順利入境。兩天後，父親轉往海南島，找尋到妻兒，何情報官去了台灣。(114)

第50節：一葉孤舟
南海行

令人難以置信，廣州棄守前，我們搭上的那艘小船，艙位竟然安排在船尾，一間鐵皮屋的屋頂上。四面圍有一呎高的鐵欄桿，十五度斜坡，遇到大風大浪，準會滾到大海裡去。

巧的是，一位曾經跟隨父親的舊屬，五十四師副官處的炊事班長徐占武，居然艙位也安排在這間鐵皮屋頂上。徐班長有一位叔叔在湛江做生意，兼程趕往投靠。父親很高興，有一位年輕力壯的人，可以在路途上，幫助我們處理一些事務。

十月十三日晚，小船在澳門附近出海，駛向南中國海。這一晚，南海的夜空，繁星閃爍，一輪彎月高懸空中，海風拂面，寒氣直逼睡在鐵皮屋頂上的我們。

母親打開木箱，取出唯有的兩條毛毯，添加在薄被上。徐班長的被子成了我們的床墊，自己裹著一條軍毯。我們終於有了暖意，但仍然不能入睡，卻仰望著空中的星星，聽著呼嘯而過的風聲。

當曙光從船尾海平面升起那一刻，我們驚艷這海空一線的美景。甲板上有了喧譁聲，船沿著海岸線行駛，經三夾灣，越北海灣，到了漠江口的陽江，在距離岸邊一海里處拋錨，暫作停留。有小駁船接送旅客上岸購物，徐班長也上了岸。

熾熱的陽光像烘爐一般，直射在頭頂，使我們頭暈目眩，我幫母親費了九牛二虎之力，將床單撐起，遮住了肆虐的陽光。

湛藍的天空，金黃的大地，淼淼的漠江，陽江城籠罩在秋色之中，遠處的山巒倒映在海中，風光如畫，景色萬千。此刻此景，母親無心暇顧，卻一心懸念著父親的安危，憂鬱孤寂流露在她蒼白的臉上。這段飄泊的經歷，深深烙印在她的心坎裡。

我為當時的情景，作了一首七絕：沉沉孤舟渡關山，戚戚漠江南岸邊。朵朵白雲去悠悠，陽江浦外不勝寒。(115)

遠方有駁船駛來，採購的人提著大包小包上船，卻不見徐班長人影。眼看這艘「揭陽輪」就要起錨了，徐班長莫非出了狀況？我們焦急了。

小船開航前十分鐘，見一葉無篷舢板駛近，徐班長正立其上。他匆忙上了船，身子搖搖晃晃，滿臉通紅，喝得酩酊大醉，語無倫次，一雙皮鞋也不見了，提著一個竹籃，狀極狼狽。見到媽媽，用他那沙啞的四川話說道：太太，太太，對不起，對不起。

籃子裡只見兩盒月餅，並無我們極想要吃的水果。中秋節已過十天了，怎麼還有月餅出售？

個個都在暈船的情形下，月餅的油膩味，實在難以下嚥。為了充飢，我勉強吃了幾口，大妹無法吞嚥，一直嘀咕。徐班長說話了：大妹不吃，小妹不吃，弟弟也不吃，不如丟到海裡餵魚吃。

沒多久，被我吃進肚裡的月餅，卻嘔吐出來，分明是不潔之物，幸好沒事，母親毫無責怪之意。

船啓航了，面對夕陽，朝向湛江海域駛去，那兩盒月餅，丟進了大海。

船沿著近海行駛，遠方的山景隠約可見，遙望岸邊猶如凝煙，有一種朦朧的風韻。出海作業的漁船，清晰可見，夕陽漸沉大海，揭陽輪再次夜航南海。(116）

小船在月色中航行，不遠處有鯨魚出現，數尾海豚伴船跳躍嬉水，海鷗掠過我們的頭頂。我們推醒了媽媽，來一窺這大海中的驚喜，多日來首次看見母親有了一絲喜悅。

十月的南海，時有颱風肆虐，幸運地我們在秋月繁星的海上，渡過了一個平安之夜。回憶這段往事，我有如此描述：海天一線星月夜，鯨豚伴舟齊航行。鷗逐白雲破蕭索，臥尋天梯北斗星。

從陽江到湛江，140海里(260公里)，船卻走了近20個小時，途中在電白博賀港外拋了錨，檢修機艙6小時。正值中午時刻，船在靜止狀態，熾熱的陽光穿透遮陽的被單，悶熱得使人窒息。水瓶中的水，滴點不剩，我們逐次下了屋頂，找到䕃涼處，避過了這酷熱難捱的時刻。船修好了，繼續行程，到達湛江港外，已是15日半夜了。

船在廣州灣入口處停了下來，一艘海軍巡防艇駛近揭陽輪，向小船喊話，湛江此時已經宵禁，指令立即駛往他處。船上頓時喧騰起來，個個人心惶惶。

國軍的粵系部隊，此時正在迎戰攻城的中共四野解放軍。三天後的18日，老共進了湛江城。

船駛往何處去？不可預知的未來，一片茫然。母親立即意識到的，卻是舅舅的安危。(117)

第51節：披星戴月
過雷瓊

沒多久，船長宣佈：船將開往海口，預計明天清晨到達。海南島的情況，我們不明，再說船上的油料，只能供應至海口，希望能夠平安到達。

這晚，小船順雷州半島東岸大陸棚南下，渡過瓊州海峽，前往海口。母親的心情陷入谷底，蒼茫大海，步步險阻。記述前塵不勝唏噓，寫七絕一首：戴月披星過瓊州，蒼梧儋耳南海中。孤生茫茫嗟途窮，懷幽長嘯天來風。

海口港當時是中國的二等港，港內泥沙淤積，只能算是一個大型漁港。揭陽輪仍然無法靠岸，旅客要用駁船登陸。上午九時許，我們到達碼頭，再以巴士接送旅客至市中心。

我們在一座客運車總站的對街下車，行李搬到一間商店的走道石柱下。我們看守著行李，母親和徐班長先到車站買了前往東山小鎮的車票，而且買了一些吃的回來，給我們充饑。

東山鎭在海口市南方五十公里，32軍獨立旅的防地，外叔公是該旅的上校副旅長，媽媽帶著我們去投奔他。

熱帶季風型的氣候，使海南島四季如夏。海口市區二至三層的磚造商業樓房，鱗次櫛比，騎樓是它的特色。街道兩旁椰樹掩映，綠草如茵，朱槿盛開，空氣清新。路邊小吃攤，水果攤熱賣，廣東點心及熱帶水果，讓人垂涎欲滴。初來乍到，海南給我們留下美好印象。(118)

下午三時許，我們搭上每日僅有兩班開往東山的客運。車票可以預售，母親來遲一步，只買到後座三個座位，可以擠下四個人，我和徐班長及行李，一起上了車頂，還有一對中年夫婦。

車子顛顛簸簸地行駛在黃土路上，車尾掀起串串沙塵泥煙。遠眺綠樹村寨，村間小路還走著牛車。一年三熟的稻米，金黃色的穗浪，隨風搖曳，又是一番熱帶田園景觀。

時近黃昏，到達東山小鎮，雇上一輛木板大車，大妹、小妹、弟弟和行李都上了車。車伕按址帶著我們走在鄉間小路上，來到一幢大院前。核對門牌號碼，沒錯，就是這𥚃。母親呼吸急促，忙拍那扇大門，出現眼前的正是外叔公。母親哇的一聲，嚎啕大哭，把一肚子千般萬般的委屈，頃刻間都發洩了出來。

10月15日，湛江全市宵禁，陸路水路交通完全中斷。舅舅與董毓秀、董毓明姐弟，向一位團長情商通融，搭車到達雷州半島南端的徐聞縣海安鎮，雇了一艘漁船，南渡海峽，到達海口，找到了我們。董氏姐弟不久後，去了香港。

數日後，父親也由香港搭船到了海南島，與我們團圓，派至32軍參謀處，擔任中校附員。徐占武也在獨立旅，安插了一份炊事工作。(119）

第52節：思古幽情
走瓊州

西元1097年(宋哲宗紹聖4年)，朝廷重議蘇軾「草制訕謗」一案，再貶東坡由惠州（東南廣東)至瓊州(今海南島海口市)，時年已六十二。但不改其一生開朗豁達之個性，一踏上這塊土地，立即沸騰起新的生命。曾作「四州環一島，百洞蟠其中。千山動鱗甲，萬谷酣笙鐘。」，「黎山有幽子，形槁神獨完。翛然獨往來，榮辱未易關。」的詩句。

黎山，即海南島內的五指山，屹立於瓊、萬、崖、儋四州之間，黎民多聚居於此，有獨特的文化習俗。

黎民又分生黎、熟黎兩種，生黎分佈在深山之中，目前仍過著半耕半牧生活。熟黎則聚居低丘河谷地帶，已經漢化，語言生活方式，都與漢人相同。

東山小鎮就有許多熟黎，婦女在溪邊浣衣，壯年人在田裡工作，定期有市集活動，與漢人相處和睦。

宋朝時的海南四州：瓊(今海口市)，萬(今萬寧縣，海南省東南)，崖(今崖城，海南省南，其東50公里為中國最南端大都市三亞，東鄰榆林軍港)，儋(今儋州，位於中西部)。(120）

海南島地形中央隆起，河川呈放射狀入海。南渡河是海南第一大河，流經東山鎮西南，在其東方20公里處，向北折流，至海口市出海。

東山受地利之惠，利於農業生產，稻米、甘藷、蔬果，產量豐盛。

家禽養殖，至今仍是東山產業，河邊常見養鴨人家。馬路旁，稻田中，常棲鴨群，小則百餘隻，大則近千隻，蔚為壯觀。

養鴨農人頭頂特大斗笠，手持加長竹桿，赤著大腳趕著鴨群。有時穿越馬路，長達十餘分鐘，來往車輛只有耐心等待。趕至水田中的鴨群，個個急著找尋田螺、水蛭、蝌蚪之類食物。

鴨群完全聽從竹桿及口令指揮，農夫運作竹桿，純熟優美，像儀隊表演操槍。一桿在手，又似交響樂團的指揮，發號施令。更像千軍萬馬的指揮官，一個命令，一個動作。

鴨群在水田中，一面尋食，一面生蛋，隨行者緊跟其後，眼明手快，忙拾鴨蛋，情景交融，難得一見。(121）

我們在東山小鎮只住了一個月，父親因職務調整，轉往海口。新家在海口市東，一條南北走向的小河，流經附近，是一座典型的中國農村建築，四週有磚牆圍繞。一條石板路通往市區公路，路經一座寺廟，視線之內是菜園和竹林。

我們住進農舍進口左方，租用兩個房間。右方的一排房間，住的是屋主一家人，三代同堂，近20口。

兩排房舍中間是個小院子，院子中央位置，有一口水井。

屋主夫婦鎮日工作在菜園、竹林裡，蔬菜、竹筍，替家庭帶來不少財富。兩個兒子是木匠，工作在院子裡，製作各式各樣木盆，有固定買主，生意應接不暇。兩個兒媳，輪流在同一部織布機上織布。

木盆的材料，供應自城南一間鋸木廠。從打樣、鋸割、曝曬、修刨、組合、試漏到成品，工序純熟，美觀實用。

兩個兒媳同是黎民，用亞麻纖維擰成的麻線，是她們織布的材料。

織布機由數根木框製成，織布人坐在一根橫木上，操控機器。木框上端懸掛經線，梭子一上一下將緯線穿過經線，等全部經緯線穿成布匹。她們還會編織色彩繽紛有圖案的裝飾布，用於黎民製作工藝品。

時過七十年，這種元老級織布機，已送往海南省博物館陳列。海南省博物館，位於海口市瓊山區，2008年11月15日，正式開館。

這家人開飯的時候很溫馨熱鬧，尤其是晚餐，全數到齊。飯桌、板凳、蒸籠、菜盆、木碗、筷子、木杓、湯匙，全是自製。三素一葷一菜湯，吃得清淡。好奇的是，飯用蒸的，蒸熟後盛入木盆，然後加上兩大瓢井水，白飯粒粒摻在冷水裏，不乾也不稀。這種吃法，可以抵禦海南島的炎熱天氣，防止瘴癘生病。(122）

我們還認識了一位啞巴女孩，比大妹小一歲，長得聰慧清秀，父母雙亡，身世坎坷，和她的爺爺，住在附近的寺廟裏，爺爺做些雜工維生。啞巴女孩對我們很友善，很容易交往，比手畫腳也可溝通。

我們每晚都會聽到打更的聲音，每過一個時辰，聲音都會由遠而近，鑼聲摻著吆喝聲。

我好奇地從大門門縫望出去，正是啞女和她的爺爺。女孩提著燈籠在前，爺爺敲打銅鑼在後，喊着「天乾物燥，小心火燭」。都20世紀50年代了，還有這種事發生，太不可思議了。

距離住家不遠，步行約十分鐘，可達一座戲院，有一個通信連連部駐防於此。因工作關係，父親常至連上洽公。駐防官兵有免費看戲的優待，我們也跟著受惠，與父母同去看廣東大戲。印象深刻的戲碼有「六月雪」、「彩雲追月」、「帝女花」。

粵劇中的唱腔，變化多樣，時而會唱上一段流行歌曲，旋律相同，詞句卻配合劇情，很有創意。樂團使用三弦、琵琶、桃琴、笛簫、鑼鼓之外還有小提琴、喉管、薩克斯風。

不得不佩服馬斯曾先生，對粵劇改革的貢獻，將傳統注入了新血。直接影響到中共文化部，對京劇的改革，有了「樣板戲」。1964年我在金門服役，廈門毛軍向蔣軍心戰喊話，時而播放樣板戲。戲詞有：報告連長，蔣軍灘頭已被攻下。（123）

第53節：時命運也
豈途窮

民國39年1月12日下午，姑姥姥尹世荃女士（中國國民黨山東省日照縣首位女黨員）帶領著我們一家人，包括我的舅舅在內，搭乘台灣船務運輸公司的「宜蘭輪」，由海口駛往台灣。

次日，宜蘭輪航行在浩瀚的南中國海中，連船長都感到訝異，一夕之間海上颳起十級強風。我們的座艙，安排在船尾。五至六丈高的大浪，像無數頭巨獸，對著船艙怒吼。我們如坐雲霄飛車一般，隨著大浪起伏。40餘位旅客，緊急轉移底艙。

整艘船的旅客，命運是一樣的，為了同一個理想，追尋同一個目標。船正駛向那也許可以安生立命的地方，那大海中的一座燈塔，台灣。

千年孤臣涙，江山幾局殘。是福是禍，前途未卜，能不能回大陸，且看時運。如要深耕台灣，那是命運。我們能怪誰，又能怨誰，時命運也豈途窮。

對1949年前的十年經歷，父親唈歎「歲月流離印痕，江河退逝年光。歷史消磨古今，看盡世事滄桑。」始料未及，我們在台灣竟生活了七十餘年，鄕音未改習俗改，他鄉已成我故鄉。無論歷史怎麼寫下去，總希望兩岸同胞，要做一個堂堂正正的中國人。(124)

經過一夜的海上驚魂，宜蘭輪於1月14日中午，駛抵基隆，基隆港細雨紛飛，距離民國38年6月16日離開基隆，開赴湛江，有213天。僅僅7個月時間，局勢卻有了翻天覆地的變化。

就在此時，蔣夫人宋美齡女士，結束自民國37年11月28日，兼程赴美遊說國會及行政部門，給予中華民國政府支持的行程，回到台灣，其間長達1年1個月又18天。

稍早於1月8日，蔣夫人接受美國國家廣播公司NBC「Meet The Press」節目訪問時表示：感謝美國人民自二次大戰以來，一直對中華民國的支持。二次大戰中與我們並肩作戰的盟邦，已有背棄我們者。我們的政府已遷往台灣，數百萬民眾也跟隨政府到了台灣，並沒有對中共政權存有幻想。求人不易，我們會在台灣自立自強，放下身段，從頭做起。我會在幾天後去台灣，和我的同胞同甘苦共患難，不能讓台灣被共產赤化。我們是在一個大海中的小島上求生存。中華民族自由民主存亡絕續的最後一道防線，就在台灣。

蔣夫人的此番箴言，猶言在耳。值得國人深思的是，中華民國政府播遷台灣至今70年，為何自上世紀90年代後，我們國家的處境，艱難到如此不堪地步。回顧1940至1950的大陸十年，也許會給這個問題一個答案。江山風雨，時也，命也，運也。

（125，全文完）

寫在江山風雨書後

西元前2697年，是黃帝紀元元年，迄今西元2021年(中華民國110年），開國已有4718年。

歷史承先啓後，源遠流長。1940至1950，在歷史的長河中，卻是江山社稷，炎黃世胄關鍵的十年。

從抗日戰爭勝利到國共內戰至兩岸分治，變化之大，歷史罕見。慶幸我成長在這個年代，經歷過苦難中國，風風雨雨的十年。

先父叮嚀，將這段歷史紀錄下來，見證那個年代，我們走過的路，以史為鑑，可知興替。

父親還取了一個書名叫「十年流離看山河」，母親卻建議改為「江山風雨」，深思其義，中國大地風風雨雨何止十年。

2020年10月，定稿「江山風雨」，總想續寫兩岸分治後的江山風雨，感覺力不從心。祈求上主恩賜我一個健康的身體，提供一個更好的寫作環境。2021年2月6日
於洛杉磯

Contents目錄目录 (58)

1. Remembering Those Days When Our Land Was Ravaged and the Nation's Ordeal Never Ended (In Place of a Preface)
2. Chapter 1: Tales of Chongqing, the Border Town
3. Section 1: Born into the Hard Years of War
4. Section 2: My First Tang Poem, and Memories of My Grandmother
5. Section 3: A Childhood Full of Fun
6. Section 4: Riding the Bamboo Litter, and the Bearers' Rhymes
7. Section 5: Ghostly Shadows at Qibaoyan
8. Section 6: Punishing Deserters, a Disputed Practice
9. Section 7: Padding the Rolls, "Eating the Empty Slots"
10. Section 8: Struggling to Get By, Help from Folks Back Home
11. Section 9: The Whole Nation Rejoices, Celebrating Victory
12. Chapter 2: Splendid Rivers and Mountains on the Road Home
13. Section 10: A Rugged Journey Across the Enshi Plateau
14. Section 11: A Miao Village in the Border Town of Western Hunan
15. Section 12: Hauling Boats on the You River
16. Section 13: Meeting the Yuan River in Early Spring
17. Section 14: Is There Really a Paradise on Earth?
18. Section 15: The Boundless Dongting Lake
19. Section 16: Yueyang Tower, Holding the Hills and Facing the Water
20. Section 17: Imagining the Ancient Battlefield at Red Cliff
21. Section 18: The Ancients Have Flown Away on the Yellow Crane
22. Section 19: Remembering the Past at the Red Cliff of Huanggang
23. Section 20: Seeking the True Face of Mount Lu
24. Section 21: Wild Waves Meet the Sky Caishi Rock
25. Section 22: Cockcrow on Zhongshan All Along the Qinhuai
26. Section 23: Looking Back at Pukou The Pain of Parting
27. Section 24: A Loyal Soul of His Generation Lives On Forever
28. Section 25: The Children Were The Real Treasure of Her Heart
29. Section 26: Ten Li of Foreign Concessions Great Shanghai
30. Section 27: Graceful Charm Remembering Jiangnan
31. Chapter 3: Storm after Storm Drifting On
32. Section 28: Riding the Wind and Waves Heading for the Liao Plains
33. Section 29: A Moving Handover of Prisoners for Repatriation
34. Section 30: Soybeans and Sorghum, Fragrant Across the Land
35. Section 31: Apricot and Cherry Blossoms Bloom Together
36. Section 32: Repaying Kindness with Hatred, Without Remorse
37. Section 33: The Qing Secondary Capital, Rich in Historic Sites
38. Section 34: Brothers Fight, and Civil War Breaks Out
39. Section 35: Flying over Mountains and Rivers, Remembering Those Left Behind
40. Section 36: Many Charms In Qingdao
41. Section 37: Back in Shanghai With Very Different Feelings
42. Section 38: Tossed by Wind and Rain, We Leave Our Native Land
43. Section 39: A Decisive Battle Lifts the Army's Spirits
44. Section 40: A New Code Turns the Tables
45. Section 41: The Refugee Students, a Sad Tale
46. Section 42: Across the Sea to Taiwan
47. Section 43: Coconut Palms Swaying in the South
48. Section 44: A Quaint Old Town, Far from the Bustle
49. Section 45: The Pearl River Bund and Lizhiwan
50. Section 46: Bitter Wind and Dreary Rain Sweep Away the Last Clouds
51. Section 47: Leaving Guangzhou in the Moaning West Wind
52. Section 48: A Beaten Army by the Mo River
53. Section 49: The Moon in the Pond, Thinking of Wife and Children
54. Section 50: A Lone Small Boat On the South China Sea
55. Section 51: Under Moon and Stars Past Leizhou to Qiongzhou
56. Section 52: Musing on the Past Traveling Qiongzhou
57. Section 53: It Is the Times, Fate and Fortune, Not the End of the Road
58. Afterword to Those Stormy Years of My Homeland (江山風雨)

Remembering Those Days When Our Land Was Ravaged and the Nation's Ordeal Never Ended (In Place of a Preface)

My life is an immigrant's story, one of countless such stories in a great and turbulent age. I spent my first ten years in my ancestral homeland, mainland China, and the next thirty in my home of Taiwan; in 1980 my whole family moved overseas, where we have now lived for forty years. My ancestral homeland, the home where I grew up, and the land where I have settled abroad are all places I love, and all of them are my home.

Looking back on those ten years on the mainland, the China I passed through was a land of upheaval and wandering, its skies lit by the fires of war, its fighting never ceasing. The moon over the passes of Qin, the clouds in the skies of Chu, the Yangtze and Huai rivers, Poyang and Dongting lakes, the Heilong River and the Changbai Mountains, the charm of Lingnan in the far south, the coconut groves of the South China Sea: all of them left deep marks on my childhood.

My late father loved our ancestral homeland deeply. Of the ten years before he followed the army to Taiwan, he sighed: "Ten years of wandering left their traces; the years ebbed away like rivers. History wears down past and present; I have seen all the world's changes." (十年流離印痕，江河退逝年光。歴史消磨古今，看盡世事滄桑。) That was an age when our land was ravaged and the nation's ordeal never ended. It was because I felt this so deeply that I wrote my first book, Those Stormy Years of My Homeland (江山風雨), and finished the manuscript in May 2005. After that I went on to complete Sunlight on the Red Mansion (日照紅樓), Drifting Dust Comes to Rest (陌塵落地) and The Honking of Migrant Wild Geese (羈旅雁鳴), writings about my family, my country and the wider world, about 600,000 Chinese characters in all. Sunlight on the Red Mansion and Drifting Dust Comes to Rest were printed and published in December 2017 and February 2020. The Honking of Migrant Wild Geese, about 240,000 characters long, was published in full on the BigBall Earth (碧波) website over nearly three years, with the last installment appearing in October 2020. I was gratified that all three books met with a warm response. And so I thought of Those Stormy Years of My Homeland, long gathering dust, and felt it ought to be published, to recover the shared memories of the generation born in mainland China in the decade after 1940.

The book has three chapters in 53 sections, about 70,000 characters: Chapter 1 covers the War of Resistance against Japan, Chapter 2 the recovery after victory, and Chapter 3 the civil war.

Chapter 1: Tales of Chongqing, the Border Town

On July 7, 1937 (year 26 of the Republic), Japanese troops stationed at Fengtai Town in Ninghe County, Hebei province (today Ninghe District, Tianjin), held maneuvers at the Marco Polo Bridge (Lugou Bridge) over the Yongding River, southwest of Peiping. Claiming that one of their soldiers was missing, they demanded to enter the walled town of Wanping County to search for him, and the Nationalist army refused. Angry and humiliated, the Japanese opened artillery fire on Wanping. Ji Xingwen (吉星文), commander of the 219th Regiment of the Nationalist 37th Division, was ordered to return fire, and China's War of Resistance against Japan formally began.

A month later, on August 13, the Battle of Shanghai broke out. With the capital, Nanjing, in imminent danger, Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek proposed moving the capital to Chongqing.

On November 15, the Nationalist Government's Supreme National Defense Council resolved to move the capital to Chongqing and raised Chongqing to the status of a municipality under the central government. It became the political, military, cultural and economic heart of the war years. Many moving and heroic stories took place there, fully embodying the wartime spirit of "The War of Resistance first, victory first; the nation above all, the Chinese people above all." (1)

Section 1: Born into the Hard Years of War

In December 1937 the Nationalist army lost the battle to defend the capital. Two days before the Japanese entered the city and began their massacre, my maternal grandfather, Yin Jihe (尹季和), sent his family to retreat to the interior with an army rear-service unit, while he himself went back to his troops to keep fighting the Japanese.

After one year and four months of long, hard travel through wind, frost, snow and rain, my grandmother (mother's mother) brought the family to Chongqing in April 1939 (year 28 of the Republic). That October my parents married in Chongqing, and I was born the next year, on July 7, 1940, the third anniversary of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident, in Nan'an, Chongqing.

On October 4, 1938 (year 27 of the Republic), the Japanese made their first air raid on Chongqing, flying low along the Jialing River to drop bombs and strafe the ground with machine guns, to test the Chinese army's air defenses. These early raids achieved little, so the next year they switched to harassment by "fatigue bombing," sending three planes at a time, wave after wave.

In April 1939, the 1st Regiment of the Army Signal Corps, in which my father served, was transferred from Guilin to Chongqing, arriving a week before my grandmother. The very next month came the great Japanese bombing of May 3 and 4. The whole city of Chongqing became a sea of flames, and the fires burned for a week. (2)

On the first day of the great bombing, when the all-clear sounded, my grandmother rushed out of the air-raid shelter with her three children. Before they even reached home, they saw the roaring fire turn the house to ashes. All she had with her was a small cloth bag holding some dry rations and a little pocket money.

That night the army settled them at a place called Lishigou in Nan'an: a few single-story houses with earth-and-stone walls and clay-tile roofs, with rice paddies on two sides and vegetable gardens on the other two. The owner was an honest man in his fifties, kind and always ready to help, whom everyone called "Boss He" (何老板). I spent my infancy there.

In May 1942 (year 31 of the Republic), my father was promoted to captain and his unit was transferred to Rongchang County, which today belongs to Chongqing. We left Lishigou, where we had lived for two years, and moved to Rongchang.

By coincidence, the landlord of our first home in Rongchang was also surnamed He, and the locals called his estate the He Family Compound. It was not far from the county town and covered about 40,000 square feet. Enclosed by stone walls, it was a farmhouse built around three sides of a courtyard, with nearly 20 rooms large and small. We lived in two of the rooms in the back courtyard: single-story brick rooms with wooden doors and windows, simple and classically elegant. (3)

A country lane ran past the front gate of the He Family Compound and joined a farm road that led to the county town.

On both sides of the lane were wide dry fields planted with rape, commonly called rapeseed. Every year as autumn came, the rapeseed bloomed, its golden flowers bursting open and swaying in the wind, a beautiful sight that filled the eye.

On the north and south sides of the compound were vegetable plots growing whatever was in season through the year. Green beans, hyacinth beans, peas and broad beans were the common bean vegetables of Sichuan. As a child my usual snack was crispy fried broad beans, and the bean paste my grandmother made herself was made from broad beans too.

Most unforgettable was tengtengcai, that is, water spinach. During the war, every household had it on the table at every meal, stir-fried with lard and fermented black beans.

The fields also grew hongshu, that is, sweet potatoes, which were treated as a staple food during the war. The sweet potato leaves were fed to the pigs, and pigs raised on sweet potato leaves had more lean meat than fat.

Making zhacai, pickled mustard stem, was one of Sichuan's food industries. It was harvested every February and March, and nearly every farm household was busy pickling Sichuan zhacai. Back then no one had heard of preservatives or additives.

Looking out from the back gate, you saw a broad expanse of paddies planted with water chestnuts, also called "horse hooves." At harvest time, when we walked along the ridges between the fields, the farmers always gave us children a few big, crisp, fresh water chestnuts. We washed them in the clear water between the ridges and popped them into our mouths: sweet on the tongue and a joy to the heart. Egrets hunting for food in the paddies made yet another lovely scene.

Outside the stone wall of the back courtyard was a lotus pond. Its water was channeled in from between the field ridges, and an outlet let it flow out into a low-lying ditch, so the water in the pond was always moving. Every summer the pond, full of lotus flowers, gave off a faint fragrance, and that was also the time to harvest lotus root.

To the right of the lotus pond was a bamboo grove, thick with green bamboo that looked especially vivid in the morning light. Every year it gave two harvests of bamboo shoots, in spring and in winter.

It was in Rongchang, as a small child, that I first heard cicadas, their song carrying from the woods far beyond the He Family Compound. On the hillside behind the woods grew a great deal of flax. Its fiber could be woven into summer cloth, and clothes made of summer cloth were comfortable and cool to wear. Rongchang County was a center of summer-cloth production, famous around the world.

In 2008 I spoke by phone with my uncle (my mother's brother), who was ill in Shanghai, and we talked about those long-ago days. With one of Su Shi's poems to the tune "Partridge Sky" (鷓鴣天), he broke through time and space and linked together Su Shi in Huanggang, Hubei, more than nine hundred years ago, our family during the war, and himself, then in Shanghai. I deeply understood how my uncle felt at that time. He passed away in Shanghai in November 2010.

"Where the woods break off, the hills stand clear, and bamboo hides the wall; cicadas clamor over withered grass by a little pond. Again and again I see white birds wheeling across the sky; red lotuses mirrored in the water give off a delicate fragrance. Beyond the village houses, beside the old town, leaning on my goosefoot staff I stroll slowly as the sun slants low. Thanks to the kindly rain at the third watch last night, this floating life is granted one more cool day." (林斷山明竹隠牆，亂蟬衰草小池塘。翻空白鳥時時見，照水紅蕖細細香。村舍外、古城旁，杖藜徐步轉斜陽。殷勤昨夜三更雨，又得浮生一日涼。) (4)

Section 2: My First Tang Poem, and Memories of My Grandmother

Waipo, one's mother's mother, is called laolao by northerners. My laolao was a devout Christian. In Chongqing, introduced by the wife of a regimental commander surnamed Sun, she began attending services at a church in Nan'an, and she kept it up in Rongchang. Every Sunday she took the family to church, and except in unusual circumstances she never missed.

A pastor from Zhejiang, Liu Yipeng (劉怡朋), gave my grandmother a hand-painted portrait of Jesus Christ. From 1944 (year 33 of the Republic) on, it stayed with our family on a journey of 100,000 li (about 50,000 km) across mainland China, from Sichuan to the Northeast and by way of Hainan to Taiwan. It is still treasured in our family home in Taipei.

The year we moved to the He Family Compound, it was the turn of spring into summer. From the bamboo grove outside the wall came the songs of orioles, warbling and trilling in endless turns, mixed with my grandmother's frequent coughing. The scene moved her to chant Jin Changxu's (金昌緒) poem "Spring Lament" (春怨).

"Shoo the orioles away, don't let them sing on the branch. Their singing would wake me from my dream, and I could not reach Liaoxi." (打起黃鶯兒，莫教枝上啼。啼時驚妾夢，不得到遼西。) Counting from December 1937, six years had passed, and my grandmother still did not know whether my grandfather was alive or dead. Chanting this poem along with her was my first encounter with Tang poetry.

In March 1944, in the warmth of spring, past the spring equinox, the farmers were already at work in the fields, and the call of the cuckoo came now and then from the woods. My grandmother's cough went from on-and-off to constant. After a bad cold, she passed away, ending a hard life of 44 years. (5)

Section 3: A Childhood Full of Fun

In 1944 my father was promoted to captain in command of a signal company. He had an orderly named Huang Qingshu (黃清樹), an honest man from a farming family. His usual duties were carrying documents and cleaning the company headquarters, and he also looked after a Mongolian horse from Ningxia. This dun-colored horse was my father's way of getting around: he rode it to work in the morning and home again in the evening.

On holidays, my eldest younger sister and I would climb onto the horse, and Huang Qingshu would lead it for a ride around the county town. We felt very grand indeed. The horse was issued army rations and a food allowance, the same as a private first class.

Ponkan mandarins are a specialty of Sichuan province. The Sichuan red tangerine is a kind of ponkan; when ripe, its skin turns red, and it is juicy and sweet.

There was another kind, a sweet orange the Sichuanese call guanggan, with a superb flavor, both sweet and fragrant, grown here and there among the tangerine trees. The orchard was about three li (a mile or so) from our compound, and on Sundays my sister and I would urge Huang Qingshu to bring the horse and take us to pick tangerines. Back then I could not yet appreciate the joys of country life.

In late January 1945 (year 34 of the Republic), three weeks before the Lunar New Year, a heavy snow fell on Rongchang. It was the first time I saw the beautiful sight of snowflakes drifting down.

I even caught some in a washbasin, but to my surprise, once I got home it quickly melted into water.

Rongchang lies in the south of the Sichuan Basin, sheltered by the Qinling and Daba mountains, and it seldom snows there unless a strong north wind blows. A first auspicious snow must bring good fortune: that August, Japan surrendered unconditionally.

After the Spring Festival we moved out of the He Family Compound into a merchant's residence in the county town. It had a front and a back courtyard and was built as a garden estate, with rockeries and a fountain, a fish pond and a pavilion, all the delicate beauty of water and stone. We lived there for a full year.

What I remember vividly is a delicious dish made by our landlady, Auntie Qin (秦大媽), called "Sichuan steamed medley." It was a kind of rice-flour steamed pork, with sweet potatoes, water chestnuts, broad beans, peas, zhacai and other ingredients, steamed for two hours in a bamboo steamer until its aroma spread everywhere and the whole courtyard smelled of meat and vegetables. At the time I only knew it tasted good, with no idea of fine taste. That was more than 70 years ago, and I still think of how delicious that dish was. (6)

Section 4: Riding the Bamboo Litter, and the Bearers' Rhymes

Li Bai wrote in his poem "Hard Is the Road to Shu" (蜀道難): "Oh! How perilous, how high! The road to Shu is harder than climbing to the blue sky." (噫吁嚱，危乎高哉，蜀道難難於上青天。)

Sichuan province, "Four Rivers," takes its name from its four great rivers: the Yangtze, the Min, the Tuo and the Jialing. In the Qin dynasty two commanderies, Ba and Shu, were set up there, so it is also called Ba-Shu. In the Three Kingdoms period it was the land of Shu, so Sichuan province is known for short as Shu.

Sichuan is ringed by high mountains and crisscrossed with hills, its ranges stretching on without end, so getting around was extremely difficult.

During the war there was a means of transport called the huagan, a bamboo litter: two thick bamboo poles held up an open bamboo chair with no canopy. The passenger sat in the chair as if riding in a sedan chair.

The bearers, also called pole men, were nimble and quick, one in front and one behind, walking along field paths and rugged mountain trails. It was a common sight in the outskirts of Chongqing too.

As a small child I rode the litter in my parents' arms. On the move, the rear bearer could not see the path ahead clearly, so the front bearer had to warn him, to keep the passenger safe.

To relieve the boredom of the journey and give the passengers some fun, many call-and-response rhymes sprang up. Spoken in genuine Sichuan dialect, they had even more punch and flavor.

For example: (front calls) "A rainbow in the sky," (rear answers) "a worm on the ground." This meant there was a ditch ahead, warning the rear bearer to watch out.

(Call) "A fair and gentle maiden," (answer) "a fine match for a gentleman." This meant a pretty girl was coming toward them, so everyone should take a good look.

(Call) "A cloud in the sky," (answer) "a pile of dung on the ground." Cow dung ahead, watch your step.

(Call) "A plump old dame," (answer) "her breasts hang long," (call) "white horses running up top," (answer) "laundry drying down below." This meant a stout middle-aged woman was about to pass by.

(Call) "Big old master, big old head," (answer) "white cloth wrapped around his head," (call) "a tobacco pipe stuck in his belt," (answer) "when he poops he wipes with a stick." This meant they saw a farmer with a hoe on his shoulder going into an outhouse. In the hard times of the War of Resistance against Japan, country toilets had no toilet paper, and people used strips of bamboo or bamboo sticks instead.

The Sichuanese are optimistic and enterprising by nature and adapt well to their surroundings, as these rhymes give a glimpse of. Perhaps this was another expression of the wartime spirit of resistance. (7)

Section 5: Ghostly Shadows
at Qibaoyan

In May 1943 (year 32 of the Republic), the Army's 6th Signal Regiment set up a Signal Corps NCO training group, and my father, then a company commander, was selected as captain and commander of its 2nd Squadron. It was his second post in military education, after serving as a first-lieutenant instructor at the Emei Mountain Officers' Training Corps in May 1939 (year 28 of the Republic). The group headquarters was at Qibaoyan (七保岩), southwest of the Rongchang county town.

The group commander, Liu Qianjiang, played the huqin fiddle exceptionally well and even taught the trainees to sing Peking opera. My father was an opera fan, so the two hit it off. Sometimes they got so caught up in singing that he forgot to come home. My father often told me stories from Peking opera, so I knew a little about the plots of "The Third Wife Teaches Her Son" (三娘教子), "The Fourth Son Visits His Mother" (四郎探母), "The Orphan of Zhao" (趙氏孤兒) and "The Black Basin" (烏盆記).

My father had real artistic talent, and he also painted slogans on the walls of the parade ground. The characters were four feet square: he climbed the ladder himself, marked out a grid, sketched the outlines, and painted them in stroke by stroke. White walls, red characters in the Liu style of calligraphy, strong and skilled brushwork: it was an impressive sight. "The nation above all," "The Chinese people above all," "The War of Resistance first" and "Victory first" were slogans seen everywhere at the time: in government offices, schools, army units, railway stations, docks, factories and more.

In August that year, it was my father's turn to be duty officer. One night just after midnight, as he was inspecting the camp, suddenly and almost all at once every light in the trainees' barracks came on, then flickered off and on, and the bugler, Xu Tingyu, sounded assembly. Baffled, my father asked the bugler who had given the order. Xu Tingyu said, "Commander, you told me to blow it!" My father said, "Strange, I didn't tell you to blow it." (8)

Night emergency assembly drills were part of the training, but none was scheduled that month. If there had been a change, the duty officer should have known in advance. Why had this happened so suddenly? A chill crept over my father. It was said the camp had once been haunted: Qibaoyan had been an execution ground for beheadings in the Qing dynasty.

And look at the trainees of every squadron: in no more than five minutes they were assembled on the big parade ground in full gear, neat and orderly. In an ordinary night emergency assembly no one moved that fast, nor would there be such embarrassing sights as men wearing only one shoe or forgetting their socks.

My father stayed calm. To avoid unsettling the officers and men and causing panic, he did not stop what was happening. He walked straight up to the ranks and told them, "Tonight's emergency assembly was moved up to test your alertness, and you all did very well. Now Second Lieutenant Wang will give the opening note, and we'll sing the March of the Volunteers (義勇軍進行曲) right where we stand, the louder the better."

Then he led the troops on three laps around the parade ground, and at last dismissed them to bed. Reveille was also sounded an hour late.

Not long afterward, men began slipping away one after another, that is, deserting. Regimental headquarters sent an inspector to investigate, but nothing came of it, and the matter was left unresolved and glossed over.

As for the bugler Xu Tingyu, he had an elder brother named Xu Qinglong, from the Hunan countryside, who was a wonderful cook. In the autumn of 1938 (year 27 of the Republic), when my father was a first lieutenant and platoon leader, the two brothers were cooks in the signal company. Whenever Xu Tingyu had nothing to do, he played around on his brass bugle, got good enough at it to become a bugler, and followed my father all the way to Sichuan. That year my father served at the command post at Mount Heng, in Nanyue, and had official dealings with the Mount Heng Telecommunications Bureau of the Ministry of Communications. The bureau director, surnamed Qu, was a Peking opera fan and became a good friend of my father; he wore a long gown and mandarin jacket all day long, dressed every inch the scholar. Xu Qinglong often cooked dishes to go with wine and took them to the Qu residence, where my father was invited to drink, chat and sing opera late into the night.

In January 1939 the Japanese attacked Nanchang and at the same time bombed Hengyang, and Nanyue was hit too. During the bombing, Xu Qinglong went out to watch the spectacle, and a piece of shrapnel sheared off the top of his skull; he died a terrible death. (9)

Section 6: Punishing Deserters,
a Disputed Practice

During the War of Resistance, the Nationalist army, with its poor weapons and equipment, fought the mechanized Japanese army and was always at a disadvantage. Even a small battle brought heavy casualties, and the troops' morale was held up entirely by the spirit of "the nation above all, the Chinese people above all." Of course there were also those who could not stand the test, who clung to life and feared death, and desertion was common in every unit.

During the war, signal troops were paid and treated far better than other branches, but soldiers still ran away. Serious cases, who fled with their weapons, were naturally sent for court-martial; ordinary cases were usually settled privately within the unit.

There were two ways of punishing deserters. One was to assemble the troops on the parade ground and, before everyone's eyes, bring out the deserter, press him to the ground, and beat his buttocks with a carrying pole until the skin split open. The signal troops were somewhat more humane: they tied the deserter's two thumbs to an old hand-cranked field telephone, across the positive and negative terminals of its battery, then cranked the generator handle hard and fast. Hit by the strong current, the man would pass out at once, and the pain lasted only a moment.

In the circumstances of that time, these inhumane punishments were quite controversial. But to maintain strict military discipline, there was really no choice but to carry them out. (10)

Section 7: Padding the Rolls,
"Eating the Empty Slots"

During the war there was another strange phenomenon in the army, called "eating the empty slots." An army is supposed to recruit troops to full establishment strength to build up its fighting power. But no unit of any branch was ever at full strength, and serious shortfalls of as much as a third were very common.

The person responsible for issuing the army's provisions, fodder and pay was the quartermaster; units at the level of an independent regiment or above had a quartermaster officer on their establishment. The quartermaster was usually the commander's trusted man, often with some family connection: a bookkeeper from a business firm or a family steward, though of course there were also professionals with formal training in finance.

As early as 1912 (year 1 of the Republic), the Nationalist Government had set up a Quartermaster School. When the War of Resistance broke out in 1937 (year 26 of the Republic), the school moved from Nanjing to Ji'an in Jiangxi, and soon after to Jiangbei in Sichuan. To train quartermaster personnel for the army, it ran regular classes as well as an accounting and administration training course and short-term training courses.

In the years of the War of Resistance against Japan, resources were desperately scarce, and it was almost impossible for provisions, uniforms and pay to arrive on time and in full; it fell to the quartermasters to scrape them together. So they reported more men than they had, so that officers and men could eat their fill, stay warm and get paid, and that is how "eating the empty slots" came about in the army. Of course there were also scoundrels who used family connections to collude in wrongdoing. Some shorted the weight of army rations; some mixed sand into the grain. The higher-ups were not unaware of it, but for every policy from above there was a way around it from below. Under those conditions, there is no denying that the quartermaster had a hard job.

In 1943, while my father was a captain commanding a company, his mess squad leader often complained that there was no rice to cook, and the supply NCO grumbled too: every month he had to borrow money from friends to advance the food allowance, and many times they faced the embarrassment of being unable to serve a meal.

My father could not stand it any longer and went to have it out with the quartermaster officer. The two came to blows, and my father hit so hard that he left the man's face black and blue, though he was hurt too. This quartermaster was the brother-in-law of a certain division commander. Both sides had a case, and in the end regimental headquarters played the matter down. (11)

Life is full of such coincidences. Nineteen years later, in April 1962 (year 51 of the Republic), I graduated from the Combined Logistics Finance School and reported to my unit as a second lieutenant finance officer. My father went with me.

As soon as we walked in, to my astonishment, my father's eyes met those of the quartermaster from long ago, Wu. "You're Quartermaster Wu!" "You're Company Commander Chen!" The two shook hands warmly, each asking after the other and saying he looked as fine as ever. It was the joy of old friends meeting again by chance after a long parting.

I was assigned to work in his section, and because of this connection I worked especially hard.

Even more of a coincidence, in 1965 (year 54 of the Republic) I was transferred from Kinmen to Taipei, and two years later he once again became my direct superior. In those days he often invited my father for a drink and a chat at Sichuan Wu's Wontons in Taipei's Chung Hwa Market, and to hear opera at the Armed Forces Cultural Activity Center.

In 1949 (year 38 of the Republic) his wife had stayed behind on the mainland, and in Taiwan he never remarried. After family visits across the Taiwan Strait were allowed, he went back to his hometown in Zhejiang. (12)

Section 8: Struggling to Get By,
Help from Folks Back Home

In January 1939, my grandmother (my mother's mother) set out with her three children from Qiyang, Hunan, and traveling by way of Guilin, Liuzhou, Guiyang and other places, reached Chongqing after half a year on the road. It was another move, after she had fled with the children to Hunan when my maternal grandfather was killed in action at Nanjing in December 1937.

Life then was close to desperate. My grandmother tried making some snacks from her hometown, both steamed and fried, and my mother went with her to sell them on the street next to where they lived, but they did not suit Sichuan tastes and business was poor.

Fortunately they ran into a relative, a young man named Zhuang Jialu who was a deputy platoon leader in an anti-aircraft artillery unit. He was a little older than my mother, but by family rank he had to call her "Sixth Aunt."

Zhuang Jialu rounded up some fellow Shandong natives, who bought most of the food my grandmother made, and that helped the family finances a little.

On June 5, 1941 (year 30 of the Republic), Japanese warplanes again carried out fatigue bombing of Chongqing, causing the Great Tunnel Disaster that shocked the world, in which nearly three thousand people suffocated.

The Nationalist army's anti-aircraft guns could not even reach the altitude at which the Japanese planes flew; they could only seize the chance to fire when enemy planes came in low to drop their bombs. That day Deputy Platoon Leader Zhuang, a crack shot, shot down one Japanese plane and damaged another, and became the focus of the news. (13)

Section 9: The Whole Nation Rejoices,
Celebrating Victory

In the summer vacation of 1945 (year 34 of the Republic), I often went with friends to play at a school near our home; I loved the swings there. Around the end of July, all the chairs in the school's big auditorium were moved aside, leaving a large open space in the middle. Seven or eight people arrived, bringing lots of bamboo and tools, and began making bamboo baskets. In two or three days they had made nearly 20 of them, and one especially large one turned out to be a dragon's head. Later they brought dozens of long pieces of cloth, painted with scales in many colors and sewn together. They linked the bamboo baskets into a chain and covered them with the long cloth. Under each basket they fixed a thick bamboo pole to hold it up, assembling a lifelike, colorful dragon. We realized the Japanese devils were about to surrender.

On August 10, the Central Daily News (中央日報) and the Ta Kung Pao (大公報) in Chongqing both put out extra editions with the news that Japan was about to surrender. Tens of thousands of people crowded in front of the newspaper offices and the Central News Agency, waiting for further news. Banners celebrating victory in the War of Resistance appeared everywhere, at army units, schools and shops, and children got lanterns ready. Everyone was waiting for the moment of victory to come quickly.

In mid-August, Rongchang was unbearably hot and muggy. My father usually went to bed late; listening to the radio had become a habit. On August 15, a little after ten at night, the Central Broadcasting Station in Chongqing broke in with major news: the Japanese emperor had that day issued an imperial rescript to the whole Japanese nation, ordering the imperial government to notify the four powers, China, the United States, Britain and the Soviet Union, that Japan accepted the Potsdam Declaration and surrendered unconditionally to the Allies.

This was followed by news of Prime Minister Suzuki's broadcast to the whole Japanese nation, saying that since the emperor's great rescript had been issued, the nation's future course was set; the hard road ahead depended on the efforts of the people to shape their destiny, and from now on all must single-mindedly uphold the national polity and, above all, strictly guard against internal strife and rash acts. (14)

Before the broadcast was even over, my father grabbed a washbasin and started banging on it with all his might. Breathless with joy, he shouted, "Japan has surrendered! Japan has surrendered!"

He woke the family, and roused the neighbors on both sides as well. Within minutes the whole street, the whole county town, was ablaze with lights, and people ran to spread the news. The cheering and the firecrackers were deafening, ringing up to the clouds. Every heart among our countrymen was pounding, every cell was boiling. The pent-up anguish of eight years poured out freely. Some were so overcome that they wept aloud, then hugged passers-by tightly. Firecrackers, cheers, sirens and singing blended into one, and the men and women, young and old, of Rongchang stayed up all night.

This victory was hard won. It was a true picture of these words: the imperial rescript shook the heavens, and the impregnable fortress lost its strength; great virtue is never alone, and a just cause finds many allies; shrinking from no danger, we resisted cruel violence; our people, united as one, fought a bloody war of resistance, and with shining valor and great sacrifice the old land saw light again. (15)

Chapter 2: Splendid Rivers and Mountains on the Road Home

In November 1945 (year 34 of the Republic), amid jubilation that swept the whole land from sea to sea, my father received orders transferring him to work in the Northeast. Our family, including my uncle (my mother's brother), nine years older than me, my little sister, three years younger than me, and my newborn baby brother, set out on our journey home after the war.

Section 10: A Rugged Journey Across the Enshi Plateau

In early February 1946, shortly after the Spring Festival, my father's unit was reorganized in Chongqing. The four companies of the Army's 6th Signal Regiment were posted to Hunan, Hubei and the Northeast, and the soldiers' families were allowed to travel with the troops.

A battalion commander led the troops. We went by way of Xiushan County, Sichuan (now part of Chongqing Municipality), along the Sichuan–Hunan Highway (today's National Highway 319) into western Hunan, then switched to the You River within Hunan to reach Yuanling, and followed the Yuan River past Taoyuan to Changde, where one company stayed behind. The rest went on across Dongting Lake to Hankou, where another company stayed. The other two companies went down the Yangtze River to Nanjing, took the Jinghu Railway (Nanjing to Shanghai, 305 kilometers long) to Shanghai, and then boarded a seagoing ship for the Northeast.

Today's Jinghu High-Speed Railway runs from Beijing to Shanghai, linking Tianjin, Jinan, Xuzhou, Bengbu, Nanjing, Zhenjiang, Wuxi and Suzhou along the way, a total of 1318 kilometers. (16)

The Enshi Plateau has the Lianghu Basin of Hunan and Hubei to its east, the Sichuan Basin to its west, the Yunnan–Guizhou Plateau to its southwest and the hills of eastern Guizhou to its south, so it sits at the center of four of China's natural geographic regions. With its rising and falling ridges and deeply cut river valleys, it truly lives up to the saying "The road to Shu is hard, harder than climbing to the blue sky" (蜀道之難，難於上青天).

Our convoy wound along gravel roads full of hairpin bends, and the trucks had to go slowly to stay out of danger.

Before we left Sichuan, the stretch from Youyang to Xiushan, one up on the mountain and the other at its foot, was less than 50 kilometers, yet it took us an entire day. Still, the strange peaks and unusual waters along the way were beautiful, and our good spirits eased the weariness of the journey.

The temperature swung widely between morning and evening and dropped sharply after dark. Wolves roamed the area, and if a truck stopped to rest even for a moment, the wolves would swarm toward it, which was terrifying. Experienced army drivers would switch on their headlights, lean on the horn and fire into the air; only then would the pack be driven off. Past the Sichuan–Hunan border (today the Chongqing–Hunan border) was a small town called Chadong, where the convoy stopped for a day and a night. (17)

Section 11: A Miao Village in the Border Town of Western Hunan

Chadong is a typical Miao town on the western frontier of Hunan. Small as it is, it lies on the overland route that every traveler between Chongqing (Yu), Hunan (Xiang) and Guizhou (Qian) must take, and it was once said that here "one foot stands in three provinces." The town, also written Chadong (茶峒), was founded in 1803 (year 8 of the Jiaqing reign of the Qing dynasty). The mountain town stands proud above a leisurely river, only 25 kilometers from the seat of Huayuan County to the northwest.

The Chadong of my memory had one small street and a few lanes. Its flagstone paving was worn and pitted, showing the long passage of history.

Black-awninged boats drifted gently on the clear river, with Miao women poling and rowing them; girls washed clothes by the stream, children splashed along the bank, old women sat leaning in the doorways of buckwheat-cake shops, and stilt houses of brown wood and dark tiles stood below the green hills. This dreamlike scene set off the town's simple, quiet and graceful old character and gave it a spirit of natural beauty.

In high school I read Shen Congwen's (沈從文) novel Border Town (邊城), whose story is set entirely in this little town. In July 2005, mainland China renamed Chadong "Biancheng" (Border Town) after his novel.

In 1952 the Shaw company of Hong Kong made a film, Cuicui (翠翠), adapted from the story of Border Town. By a stream in the little town stands a white pagoda, and beside it lives a family: an old man, a girl and a little yellow dog. The girl is named Cuicui; she is the old man's granddaughter, and the two depend on each other for everything.

Cuicui works on a black-awninged boat. The film had a theme song that I can still hum. The words go: "Girl who rows the boat, you are so lovely; there's not another like you in all Chadong. Big, big eyes and long, long brows, white, white teeth and a red, red mouth. So many want to play matchmaker; who will be the lucky one someday, the lucky one?" (18)

Section 12: Hauling Boats on the You River

Leaving Chadong, we followed what is now National Highway 209 through the Huayuan county seat to Baojing. The You River, a tributary of the Yuan River, flows past the south of Baojing. We stayed one night there, and the next day we switched to small wooden boats on the You River to Yuanling, and then changed to boats on the Yuan River, by way of Taoyuan to Changde.

At Baojing the convoy completed its transport mission, loaded up a shipment of military supplies, and turned back to Chongqing.

Back then Baojing had fewer than 30,000 people; it has now reached 286,612 (2003), with the Tujia and Miao peoples making up 73 percent of the population. It has the Dongluo Paleolithic site from 30,000 years ago and the scenic Lüdong Mountain, and its range of wild-duck foods is popular with visitors.

The troops and their families boarded wooden boats on the You River and continued the journey. The flotilla was a grand and impressive sight, with the boats spaced two li (about a kilometer) apart, carried along by the current. We set out from Baojing in the morning and reached Yuanling before dusk, where we again stayed a night.

Along the way we came upon the remarkable sight of trackers hauling boats, which happens only when boats go upstream against the current. Many boats at that time were still worked by human power and had to be pulled by trackers. Several teams hauled from the bank, several men poled on board, and one man steered at the stern. The trackers leapt up and down the rocks along the river, the towlines over their shoulders, pulling with all their strength and watching that the lines did not snag on the rocks and hold the boat back. (19)

In the days before boats in China's interior made full use of engines, tracking was a common trade, and a very hard way to make a living. As they worked, the trackers chanted together in harmony, their voices loud and full. Especially in the mountain valleys, the echoes rolling back gave listeners a feeling of desolation and melancholy.

When I was in junior high there was a song called "The Trackers' Song" (拉縴行), with a smooth, lively melody that captured everything in the trackers' hearts. Mainland China also has a song about trackers, "A Tracker's Love" (縴夫的愛), about the hardships and joys of a tracker and his sweetheart, which has stayed popular for a long time.

Today, in the 21st century, the trade of tracking can hardly survive, and one can only go to tourist sites to recapture the boat hauling of memory. (20)

Section 13: Meeting the Yuan River in Early Spring

Yuanling, called Chenzhou in the Tang and Song dynasties, was where the Nationalist government set up the Western Hunan Pacification Office in July 1935. It lies in northwestern Hunan on the middle reaches of the Yuan River, where the You River joins the Yuan. It covers 5,852 square kilometers and borders Zhangjiajie to the north, and it has long been called "the gateway to western Hunan" and "the lock and key of the southern sky." It is a land of rolling ridges and peaks, picturesque whether seen from afar or close at hand.

The products of western Hunan were gathered and shipped out from here, and river traffic was busy. We stayed one night, and the next morning changed to boats on the Yuan River and went on toward Changde.

Our boats cut through the surging river. The layered mountains on both banks glowed in the setting sun, answering the vast drifting mists, and there on the Yuan River in early spring we met with a landscape bursting with spring flowers.

Since ancient times the region of the Yuan and Xiang rivers was often where frustrated scholars were sent into exile. Long ago Qu Yuan (屈原) wrote Encountering Sorrow (離騷) here, and Wang Wei (王維) wrote "Song of Peach Blossom Spring" (桃源行) about it. Liu Yuxi's (劉禹錫) "Song of the Boat Race" (競渡曲), "In the fifth month the Yuan flows level with its banks; the townsfolk together launch their painted boats. In what year did the songs of Lingjun (Qu Yuan) fall silent? Since then, mournful chants have risen with the beat of the oars" (沅江五月平堤流，邑人相將浮綵舟。靈均何年歌已矣，哀謠振楫從此起), describes a dragon-boat race in the Yuanling area.

In the Eastern Jin, Tao Yuanming (陶淵明) of Wuling came to the Yuan River and wrote his immortal "The Peach Blossom Spring" (桃花源記). Li Bai (李白), Du Fu (杜甫), Wang Changling (王昌齡), Liu Zongyuan (柳宗元), Xin Qiji (辛棄疾) and others deeply loved the landscape and people here, and left many famous poems about the Yuan and Xiang region. (21)

Section 14: Is There Really a Paradise on Earth?

Tao Yuanming: born in Chaisang, also called Wuling (today's Jiujiang, Jiangxi), in year 3 of the Xingning era of Emperor Ai of the Eastern Jin (365 CE); died in year 4 of the Yuanjia era of Emperor Wen of the Song of the Southern Dynasties (427 CE), at the age of 62.

Jin Taiyuan: the Taiyuan era of Emperor Xiaowu of the Eastern Jin, which lasted 21 years (376–396 CE).

Tao Yuanming's "The Peach Blossom Spring": "During the Taiyuan era of the Jin, there was a man of Wuling who made his living as a fisherman. Following a stream, he forgot how far he had gone, when suddenly he came upon a grove of peach trees in blossom" (晉太元中，武陵人，捕魚為業。緣溪行，忘路之遠近，忽逢桃花林). It is this essay that has left later generations so much room for imagination.

Many places in mainland China have a Peach Blossom Spring. The one in Youyang, Chongqing, has lovely scenery very much like the hidden paradise Tao Yuanming described. The one in Neixiang County, Nanyang, Henan, is like a fairyland on earth.

The Cihai dictionary (辭海) explains the name Wuling as referring to the area around Changde, Hunan. The Yuan River flows into Dongting Lake, and near Changde lies Taoyuan County.

In the 1980s, farmers in Hunan discovered near Taoyuan the Peach Blossom Spring that Tao Yuanming described 1,600 years ago. At the Double Ninth Festival in September 1986, the people of Taoyuan County even held an event to celebrate the discovery. Whether it is really the Peach Blossom Spring that Tao Yuanming portrayed is still open to debate.

Back then, riding a wooden boat on the Yuan River, we were enchanted by the scenery on both banks. Not far away was a place called Taohuayuan (Peach Blossom Spring), now a tourist site.

Thinking back: we had come through eight hard years, and now, on the road home, amid such scenes we felt intoxicated, yet we also had the sense of drifting with the current, wandering to the ends of the earth. My father once used Qin Guan's (秦觀) "Peach Spring" (桃源) to describe his mood at the time: "Tipsy, I let my light boat drift; the current carries me deep among the flowers. Worldly ties have led me astray; I have no way to stay among the blossoms. Misty waters stretch vast; a thousand li of slanting evening sun. Mountains without number, fallen petals like rain; I cannot trace the way I came" (醉漾輕舟，信流引到花深處。麈緣相誤，無計花間住。煙水茫茫，千里斜陽暮。山無數，亂紅如雨，不計來時路).

Our boats passed Taoyuan, paused for a short rest, and sailed straight on to Changde. (22)

Section 15: The Boundless Dongting Lake

Changde, the largest city in western Hunan, lies on the lower Yuan River and was the trading hub for goods from the two inland provinces of Sichuan and Guizhou. Hills roll to the west of the city, and to the east it commands Dongting Lake; its strategic terrain made it an important military stronghold. From November 1, 1943, to January 5, 1944, the 66-day Battle of Changde between China and Japan was fought here.

One of the signal companies traveling with us stayed here as a garrison, and the rest of us went on.

The Yuan River flows through Changde in a bend that divides the city in two. The north side is the commercial center, with thriving markets. The south side is an industrial park, with a replica old-city attraction. Two large bridges now link the south and north.

Back then I saw many porters on the docks carrying barrel after barrel of tung oil off the boats on their shoulder poles. Many logs floated on the river, towed by small boats toward Dongting Lake. That scene is gone now. We stayed here two days and two nights and recovered from the fatigue of many days of travel by road and river.

On the third day, the remaining three companies each boarded one of the passenger steamers that sailed Dongting Lake, bound for our next stop, Yueyang.

Sailing on the vast Dongting Lake had a charm all its own. At that time Dongting Lake was China's largest freshwater lake, covering 3,720 square kilometers. After 1970 Poyang Lake took its place, even though Poyang covers only 3,206 square kilometers. For a long time silt from Hunan's four great rivers, the Xiang, Zi, Yuan and Li, had settled in Dongting Lake, and people along the shore enclosed land to make fields, taking land from the lake, with serious consequences.

The three passenger ships had engines and were fully equipped with cabins, dining rooms and other facilities. Each had walkways with railings along both sides and a viewing deck on top.

What struck me was that our big ship towed three wooden boats behind it on thick cables, the boats loaded with all kinds of goods bound for cities along the Yangtze. It looked very much like a mother duck leading three ducklings across the water.

In the quiet night, with the moon high, a gentle breeze, white clouds drifting, the sky full of stars, and lake and sky meeting in one line, the convoy slowly cut through the waves.

As the dawn light rose from the lake, the ship's first bell of the day was struck. Even before that, many people had crowded onto the viewing deck and stood along the decks and railings to watch the lovely sunrise over the lake. The ship was about to enter the port of Yueyang. (23)

Section 16: Yueyang Tower, Holding the Hills and Facing the Water

Near noon the convoy sailed into Nanjin Harbor, southwest of Yueyang. The last ship first drew in its cables, and the three wooden boats behind it left their mother ship and went off to the docks to unload. The other two mother ships did the same in turn, and then each slowly entered the passenger pier and tied up.

Yueyang, also called Yuezhou, lies in northeastern Hunan on the east shore of Dongting Lake. The Beijing–Guangzhou Railway (formerly the Canton–Hankow Railway) runs through the city, making it a hub of water and land transport for the Lianghu Basin. With hills behind and water in front, it holds a strategic position.

On the west side of the city stands Yueyang Tower, rising from a corner of the old city amid the beauty of lake and hills. The tower is four stories high, and the view from the top is intoxicating. Fan Zhongyan (范仲淹), the great literary master of the North Song Dynasty, wrote in his essay "On Yueyang Tower" (岳陽樓記): "I have seen that the finest sight of Baling lies in Dongting Lake alone. It holds the distant hills in its mouth and swallows the Yangtze, vast and surging, boundless in breadth. Bright in the morning and shadowed in the evening, it shows ten thousand moods. This is the grand view from Yueyang Tower."

Poets and writers of every age who came here left poems and inscriptions. Li Bai left the line "Water and sky one color, wind and moon without end" (水天一色，風月無邊), and Du Fu "Long ago I heard of Dongting's waters; today I climb Yueyang Tower" (昔聞洞庭水，今上岳陽樓), among other famous lines.

The full text of "On Yueyang Tower" is carved on eight great doors inside the tower. Its closing words, "Be first to worry about the world's worries, and last to enjoy its joys" (先天下之憂而憂，後天下之樂而樂), have become a saying for the ages.

Legend says that Li Tieguai (李鐵拐), one of the Eight Immortals, came to the tower three times to drink, and no one recognized him. Later he wrote a poem and left. The poem says: "Drunk three times at Yueyang, no one knew me; chanting aloud, I flew across Dongting Lake" (三醉岳陽人不識，朗吟飛過洞庭湖). For this reason later generations enshrined his image on the top floor.

During our stay in Yueyang, besides climbing Yueyang Tower, we also took a boat to Junshan Island at the mouth of Dongting Lake, not far west of the city. There is a sad and beautiful legend about this island, the story of the "tear-stained spotted bamboo." (24)

Junshan Island lies in Dongting Lake 15 kilometers northeast of Yueyang. It covers 1.2 square kilometers and has 12 hills shaped like coiled topknots of hair. Seen from afar on the lake, the island seems to float and sink in light mist.

The island produces a richly fragrant tea. The green bamboo growing there, also called "Xiang Consort bamboo," has distinctive spotted markings and a hard, thick texture.

Legend says Emperor Yao had two beautiful and clever daughters, whom he married to the wise and able Emperor Shun. When Shun toured the south, his wife and consort went with him: his beloved wife Ehuang (娥皇), the Lord of the Xiang in Qu Yuan's poems, and his favored consort Nüying (女英), the Lady of the Xiang in Qu Yuan's poems, together known as the "Xiang Consorts." The three treated each other with deep respect and lasting love; wherever the husband traveled, the wives followed, inseparable as body and shadow.

Emperor Shun worked tirelessly for his people. Trekking through the foothills of Mount Cangwu and along the shores of Dongting Lake, he fell ill from overwork and died at Cangwu. The Xiang Consorts were overcome with grief. Morning and night they clung to the bamboo and wept, and where their tears fell on the bamboo, brown spots appeared; the people of Xiang call it "spotted bamboo." The consorts drowned themselves in the Xiang River out of love for him, and a dozen or so days later their bodies surfaced on Dongting Lake. Fishermen buried the two consorts on Junshan Island, where the historic Tomb of the Two Consorts and the Shrine of the Xiang Consorts are now places to visit.

The Tang poet Yong Tao (雍陶) wrote a poem, "On Junshan" (題君山), which says: "The misty waves are still, the reflection deep; no blue of water at all, only the deep green of the hills. It looks like the place where the water goddess combs and washes her hair: one dark-green coil in the middle of the mirror" (煙波不動影沉沉，碧色全無翠色深。疑似水仙梳洗處，一螺青黛鏡中心).

"The misty waves are still" describes the lake lying calm without wind or waves. "Deep" describes Junshan's reflection in the lake. Blue (bi) is the color of the lake; green (cui) is the color of the hills.

Gazing at the reflection, naturally you see only the green hills and not the blue lake. Junshan in the reflection looks just like a goddess's coiled topknot in a mirror. (25)

Section 17: Imagining the Ancient Battlefield at Red Cliff

At Yueyang we changed to a Yangtze passenger steamer and went by way of Xindi (today's Honghu County) and Jiayu to Wuchang. Wuchang was the largest of the three cities of Wuhan and at that time the capital of Hubei province. It was the birthplace of the uprising of the Xinhai Revolution that overthrew the Manchu Qing.

Leaving Dongting Lake, the ship entered the Yangtze and headed northeast. 20 kilometers past Honghu, on the south bank of the Yangtze, is a place called Chibi, Red Cliff (formerly part of Puqi, now under Chibi County). In the Three Kingdoms period, Zhou Yu (周瑜) defeated Cao Cao's (曹操) army of 800,000 here.

At midnight on the 22nd day of the 11th lunar month in year 13 of the Jian'an era of Emperor Xian of the Eastern Han (208 CE), Zhuge Kongming (諸葛孔明) made offerings for wind at the Seven Stars Altar. An east wind sprang up, Zhou Yu set fires at Sanjiangkou, and Huang Gai's (黃蓋) fire ships rammed into Cao Cao's chained-together fleet, sending flames into the sky. In less than half a day Cao's army was reduced to ashes and smoke, and blood dyed the rolling Yangtze red.

Passing Red Cliff and seeing the battlefield of more than 1,800 years ago, I felt how the world changes over time, with a touch of sadness. (26)

Section 18: The Ancients Have Flown Away on the Yellow Crane

In the setting sun the steamer reached Wuchang and docked at what was then the Hanyangmen pier. For my parents and my uncle this was a return to familiar ground; the scenery was the same, but much had changed among the people, and their joy was mixed with sorrow.

Wuchang, anciently called Jiangxia and also Ezhou, stands where the Yangtze and the Han River meet. Across the Yangtze from Hankou and Hanyang, the three cities stand like the legs of a tripod. The uprising of the Xinhai Revolution began here, and it was once the capital of Hubei. The historic Yellow Crane Tower in the city was first built in the Three Kingdoms period; in the Peking opera "Yellow Crane Tower" (黃鶴樓) it is where Kongming angers Zhou Yu for the third time.

The Tang poet Cui Hao (崔顥) praised Yellow Crane Tower: "The ancients have flown away on the yellow crane; here only Yellow Crane Tower remains. The yellow crane, once gone, never returns; for a thousand years white clouds drift on, empty. Across the sunlit river the trees of Hanyang stand clear; fragrant grass grows lush on Parrot Island. At dusk, where is my homeland? Mist on the river waves fills me with sorrow" (昔人已乘黃鶴去，此地空餘黃鶴樓。黄鶴一去不復返，白雲千載空悠悠。晴川歷歷漢陽樹，芳草萋萋鸚鵡洲。日暮鄉關何處是，煙波江上使人愁).

Li Bai also wrote: "My old friend bids farewell to Yellow Crane Tower in the west; amid the blossoms and mist of the third month he sails down to Yangzhou. The distant shadow of his lone sail vanishes into the blue sky; I see only the Yangtze flowing to the edge of heaven" (故人西辭黃鶴樓，煙花三月下揚州。孤帆遠影碧空盡，惟見長江天際流).

Ravaged by war countless times, Yellow Crane Tower had become a ruin. After the victory over Japan, it still stood firm and unbowed. Before a bronze finial of the tower, cast in the Qing dynasty, an old relic seen again stirred deep and quiet reflection. In 1985 Yellow Crane Tower was rebuilt and took on a completely new look.

We went to a pier on the west side of Wuchang, and my father pointed across the river to Hankou and told us how, in 1938, he had been ordered to lay a military telephone cable across the Yangtze. It was a daunting task, but he overcame obstacle after obstacle and completed it successfully.

Recently, sorting through the letters my father wrote me, I found one describing how in 1995 he, my mother and my aunt (my father's sister) went to Wuhan to visit family and toured Yellow Crane Tower with my Fifth Uncle (my father's younger brother), who had settled in Wuhan. The letter contains this passage: "From 1936, when I went to Tongguan, Shaanxi, to take up my first military post, and the next year was transferred to Hankou, then through promotions and transfers, until I passed through Wuchang on the way home after the victory and revisited the old site of Yellow Crane Tower, was fully ten years. In 1995 I climbed Yellow Crane Tower once more, by then the new tower after its rebuilding. Five meetings within sixty years, each with a different feeling."

We also went to Hankou railway station. In 1938 my grandmother (mother's mother) and her three children waited at this station day and night, through bitter wind and rain, for my grandfather (mother's father) to come home. A year earlier, my grandfather had already given his life for his country in the defense of Nanjing.

My father also wrote a ci poem recalling the past: "Sixty years of wandering; this year, a new dream suddenly brings me to the old hilltop of the Yellow Crane. Gathering in the mists of Qin, drawing in the fogs of Chu, smoothing the river's flow. The waters of the Yellow River, the moon over the passes of Qin, my feelings for Sichuan: the rolling Yangtze flows east." (27)

Section 19: Remembering the Past at the Red Cliff of Huanggang

Leaving Wuhan, the steamer headed for Huanggang. Huanggang, formerly Huangzhou, has the Yangtze flowing past its west and south. West of the city a cliff shaped like an elephant's trunk juts into the river; it is called Chibiji, "Red Nose Rock." Across the river to the south is Echeng (today's Ezhou). Our ship docked at what is now the Yangtze port of Ezhou, near the famous Guanyin Pavilion, and stayed there half a day.

Su Shi (蘇軾) of the North Song Dynasty (1036–1101), courtesy name Zizhan, literary name Dongpo, was from Meishan in Meizhou (today's Meishan City, Sichuan province). For writing satire of Wang Anshi's (王安石) reforms, he offended the court and was jailed in the eighth month of year 2 of the Yuanfeng era of Emperor Shenzong of Song (1079), known to history as the "Crow Terrace Poetry Case." In the second month of the next year he was banished to Huangzhou (today's Huanggang City, Hubei). In year 4 of Yuanfeng he built a small study on a slope east of Huangzhou, which became his refuge in his time of misfortune, and hung over it a plaque with the four characters "Dongpo Snow Hall."

New to this strange place, he misheard "Red Nose" (赤鼻) in the Hubei accent as "Red Cliff" (赤壁). Full of indignation, in the tenth month of that year he wrote the immortal ci "Remembering the Past at Red Cliff" (赤壁懷古): "The great river flows east, its waves washing away the heroes of a thousand ages. West of the old ramparts, people say, is Master Zhou's Red Cliff of the Three Kingdoms. Jagged rocks pierce the sky, startling waves pound the shore, rolling up a thousand drifts of snow. The land is like a painting; how many heroes it held in that age! I think back to Gongjin in those years, newly wed to the young Xiao Qiao, heroic and brilliant. With feather fan and silk headscarf, laughing and talking, he turned the enemy's masts and oars to ash and smoke. My spirit roams the old land; the sentimental would laugh at me, gray before my time. Life is like a dream; let me pour a cup of wine to the moon on the river."

To tell the two Red Cliffs apart, later generations named the Huanggang one the "Literary Red Cliff," and the ancient battlefield of the Battle of Red Cliff, today's Chibi City, the "Martial Red Cliff."

At Echeng we made a trip to Xisai Mountain, today's Xishan scenic area in Ezhou. The Tang poet Zhang Zhihe (張志和) wrote "Fisherman's Song" (漁歌子) here: "Before Xisai Mountain white egrets fly; peach blossoms on the flowing water, the mandarin fish are fat. A blue bamboo hat, a green straw cape: in slanting wind and fine rain, no need to go home" (西塞山前白鷺飛，桃花流水鱖魚肥。青箬笠，綠蓑衣，斜風細雨不須歸).

Our next leg took us to Jiujiang, north of Mount Lu in Jiangxi province. (28)

Section 20: Seeking the True Face of Mount Lu

The steamer docked at the Jiujiang passenger pier, and the second of our signal companies stayed here as a garrison.

Jiujiang, anciently called Xunyang, lies north of Poyang Lake. The Yangtze flows past the north of the city and Mount Lu rises to the south; its strategic terrain made it a place every army fought for. It is the northern gateway of Jiangxi province, linked to Nanchang by the Nanxun Railway, and the main port for the whole province's goods, chiefly porcelain, rice and tea. Within the city are Bali, Gantang, Nanmen, Baishui, Pipa and other lakes, each with a waterway to the Yangtze, lined on both banks with shady willows, a lovely sight. We stayed here two days and two nights.

The Yangtze River Bridge completed here in 1991, following the Wuhan and Nanjing Yangtze River Bridges, is the largest and longest combined road and rail bridge in mainland China, one more passage across the great natural barrier linking north and south of the river. Back then, to get into Hubei you had to take a ferry.

"Seen from the front it is a ridge, from the side a peak; near or far, high or low, it never looks the same. I cannot see the true face of Mount Lu only because I am standing inside the mountain" (橫看成嶺側成峰，遠近高低各不同。不見廬山真面目，只緣身在此山中). Su Shi's "Written on the Wall of Xilin Temple" (題西林壁) has tugged at the heartstrings of Chinese people for a thousand years. It captures the beauty of Mount Lu, its rising and falling ridges wrapped in cloud and mist so that its true shape is hard to make out, and its wonderful vision has made it a poem for the ages.

Mount Lu is so named because in ancient times a man named Kuang Su (匡俗) built a hut (lu) here. Water lies on three sides and land to the west; with its thousand cliffs and ten thousand ravines and its lovely scenery, it is a famous summer retreat. The Ming traveler Xu Xiake (徐霞客), who toured Mount Lu in year 46 of the Wanli era (1618), described its peaks rising layer upon layer, its sheer cliffs and secluded valleys, its ridges stretching for dozens of li, each forming its own peak, and its clouds and mists changing into ten thousand shapes in an instant: a marvelous sight.

In July 1937, Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek (蔣中正) issued the Lushan Declaration here. Facing Japanese aggression, he declared, "China seeks peace, not peace at any price; we are prepared to fight, but we do not seek war."

Early the next morning we first went to Guling town and then up the mountain road; one could go by car or be carried in a bamboo sedan chair. Since we were to sail on to Huaining the following morning, we chose the sedan chairs and saw only the main sights.

"Meilu" was the official residence of Chiang Kai-shek and his wife on Mount Lu during the war against Japan. This English-style villa, built by a British architect, Ms. Heli (赫莉), was half sold and half given to Madame Chiang, Soong Mei-ling (宋美齡). Chiang Kai-shek himself wrote the two characters "Meilu" on a large rock at the villa, and Meilu has kept its original look, complete and intact, to this day. On the way we also visited nearby sights such as the Immortal's Cave, Qin Lake and Jinxiu Valley. This was the one and only time in my life so far that I have visited Mount Lu. Though I did not see the true face of Mount Lu, it was only because I was standing inside the mountain.

Today there is a cable car up Mount Lu, 2,864 meters long, that reaches the top in 10 minutes. If the chance comes, I may be able to visit again.

Next time I climb Mount Lu I must see three sights: Pokou, Five Old Men Peak and Sandie (Three-Tier) Spring.

Pokou is a gap in the cliffs of Hanpo Ridge, named for facing Poyang Lake. It is rich in the beauty of lake and mountains and wrapped in clouds and mist all year round; walking there feels like being in a sea of clouds.

Five Old Men Peak, southeast of Guling, stretches for several li, its peaks seemingly separate yet still joined. On its ridges grow several strangely shaped old pines, nearly a thousand years old, twisted and coiled in wonderful forms.

Among Lushan's dozens of springs and waterfalls, Sandie Spring is the most remarkable. Its water pours down from the north of Five Old Men Peak and crashes onto great rocks, spraying in all directions. The falls give off a piercing chill as they fly a thousand feet down into the Dragon Pool. It is the finest sight on Lushan.

Li Bai (李白) wrote the poem "Viewing the Waterfall at Lushan" (望廬山瀑布): "The sun shines on Incense Burner, raising purple mist; from afar I see the waterfall hanging over the river ahead. Its flying stream plunges straight down three thousand feet, as if the Milky Way were falling from the ninth heaven" (日照香爐生紫煙，遙看瀑布掛前川。飛流直下三千尺，疑似銀河落九天). The Incense Burner Li Bai means is Incense Burner Peak, which stands alongside Five Old Men Peak, facing Sandie Spring. White clouds drift, mountain mists glow, the falls fly a thousand feet: a delightful sight. (29)

Section 21: Wild Waves Meet the Sky
Caishi Rock

From Jiujiang the steamer went northeast down the Yangtze River, past Madang and into Anhui. Setting out at sunrise, we reached Huaining (now Anqing) at noon, stopped a few hours, then sailed on past Guichi (now Chizhou) and Tongling, arriving at Wuhu at midnight.

Wuhu lies where the Qingyi and Shuiyang rivers flow into the Yangtze, which passes the west of the city. Railways and highways run in every direction, and its wide, deep harbor can take seagoing ships. It is a trading center for coal, rice, tea and timber. Wuhu rice is among the very best, and Wuhu is one of China's four great rice markets. Its crab-roe soup dumplings are a delicacy people long for, as famous as Shanghai's Nanxiang xiaolongbao (soup dumplings).

Wuhu also has many historic sites. On the Yangtze bank north of the city a huge rock juts up; legend says that when Liu Bei (劉備) died of illness at Baidi City in the Three Kingdoms period, Lady Sun (孫夫人), hearing the terrible news in Eastern Wu, threw herself into the river here to die faithful to him.

At noon the next day we sailed on toward Nanjing, passing Dangtu, Fushi Rock (孚石磯) and Ma'anshan, and in the evening docked at Nanjing's Zhongshan Wharf.

Dangtu lies on the southeast bank of the Yangtze. To its northeast, Caishi Rock juts out over the river; its steep, commanding position made it a key military site through the ages. At Caishi Rock stands the historic Taibai Tower, built in memory of Li Bai; after his death Li Bai was buried on Qingshan, across from Caishi.

In the 11th month of year 31 of the Shaoxing era of Emperor Gaozong of the Southern Song (1161), the famous general Yu Yunwen (虞允文), commanding the armies of Jiankang (today's Nanjing), used a river fleet to resist the great army of the Jin ruler Wanyan Liang (完顔亮), and fought a fierce battle at Caishi Rock. Wanyan Liang was defeated and routed, and was strangled by his own officers. It was the most heartening great victory since the Song court had moved south.

The Southern Song poet Zhang Xiaoxiang (張孝祥) warmly celebrated the great victory at Caishi in his ci "On Hearing of the Victory at Caishi" (聞采石戰勝): "Washed clean as snow, the invaders' dust has settled; the wind holds back the clouds of Chu. Who will capture this tragic grandeur? Horns sound from the old city tower. A lifetime's bold spirit of lakes and seas; the frontier passes as they look today; trimming the candle, I gaze at my Wu sword. Above all I rejoice that where the rhinoceros horn was burned, wild waves rise to meet the sky" (雪洗虜塵靜，風約楚雲留。何人為寫悲壯，吹角古城樓。湖海平生豪氣，關塞如今風景，剪燭看吳鈎。賸喜燃犀處，駭浪與天浮).

Under the old administrative divisions of the Republic of China in its mainland period, Dangtu included Caishi and Ma'anshan. After decades of development, today's Ma'anshan has become one of Anhui's first-tier cities. Caishi and the historic Taibai Tower are now part of Ma'anshan City. (30)

Section 22: Cockcrow on Zhongshan
All Along the Qinhuai

As the lights came on, with the steamer sounding its whistle, a pilot boat guided us slowly into the port of Nanjing. Passengers crowded the viewing deck, the decks and the walkways on both sides. My father held my hand, my mother held my little brother, and my uncle carried my sister on his shoulders, as we stood at a good spot on the right side of the bow deck.

Some gasped, some cheered, and some were overcome with emotion, all pointing at the city of Nanjing right before our eyes: a city of sorrow for individuals, for families, for the nation and for the Chinese people.

Voices rose one after another: "That's Mochou Lake ahead," "Xuanwu Lake is just a few blocks past that," "I still remember where the Lady's Temple (夫人廟) is," "Past the Qinhuai River is the Zhonghua Gate," "Way over there is Purple Mountain, and the Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum is right there." When she heard "Ahead on the right is Yuhuatai," my mother could not hold back her sobs: that was perhaps where my maternal grandfather had given his life for his country.

After the victory in the War of Resistance against Japan, there was an art song known to every household, "Spring on Zhongshan" (鍾山春), which is still sung today and has never lost its appeal. It portrays the towering majesty of Zhongshan and, in the Stone City where dragons coil and tigers crouch, Nanjing's boundless scenery adorning the new spring south of the Yangtze.

After the government moved to Taiwan, Professor Shen Bingguang (沈炳光), a graduate of the Fujian Music School, composed "Dreaming of Jinling on a Winter Night" (冬夜夢金陵), with words by Professor Wang Wenshan (王文山). It sings of longing for Nanjing, and whenever the older generation hear it or sing it, tears roll down their faces: "Falling catkins, flying petals, the lamp burning low, the quilt cold; in my dream I return to Jinling, in my dream I return to Jinling. The rolling Yangtze alone embraces the lonely city. The stone horses and stone men are as they were, all silent, their lips sealed. Since we parted, ten thousand thoughts fill my heart; to whom can I tell them? Listen, listen: the morning bells already ring through the villages near and far, and so many cocks are crowing. The little children are clamoring; the dream will not come again. The green pines and cypresses that fill the courtyard are all weighed down with deep snow, all weighed down with deep snow. When the sky clears, the ice will melt and thaw, the air fresh and the wind light." (31)

In the catastrophe of December 1937 (year 26 of the Republic), the Japanese army sacked this ancient city, burning, killing and looting, stopping at nothing, and the blood of our compatriots dyed the Yangtze red. That year my grandmother and her children said farewell to Nanjing, and to my grandfather, and set out on the wanderer's road to Chongqing in the interior (Free China). Eight years later they saw Nanjing again: the scenery was still there, but so much among the people had changed.

The Tang poet Liu Yuxi (劉禹錫) wrote "Stone City" (石頭城): "The hills still encircle the old capital all around; the tide beats on the empty city and lonely, ebbs away. East of the Huai River the moon of old times still comes over the battlements late at night" (山圍故國周遭在，潮打空城寂寞回。淮水東邊舊時月，夜深還過女牆來). It was just what my mother felt deep in her heart at that time.

Ever since the Six Dynasties, the Qinhuai River had been lined with carved beams and painted rafters and ten li of pearl curtains, for more than 1,700 years by the time of the Republic. After the war, the bright moon still rose in the east over the city battlements and shone on this ruined ancient city. Willow catkins at the Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum still drifted down onto the stone horses and stone elephants. At the solemn Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum, people of every walk of life returning after the war came in an endless stream to pay their respects at the tomb of Sun Yat-sen, the Father of the Nation.

The surging waves of the river beat against the ancient city, keeping company with Zhongshan, Jiming Temple, Swallow Rock and Yuhuatai. The sound of the waves in the cold night, the stars and moon hazy: people were lost in quiet longing for the past and in deep thought.

We stayed in Nanjing only briefly, three days. In those days the cockcrow near our little inn sounded especially deep, clear and strong. In February 2016 I returned to Nanjing, a full seventy years later; my father and my uncle had already passed away. (32)

Section 23: Looking Back at Pukou
The Pain of Parting

At the end of October 1937 (year 26 of the Republic), when the "831" Battle of Shanghai ended, the Japanese militarists massed their forces and pressed step by step toward Nanjing along the Jinghu Railway (Nanjing to Shanghai, 305 kilometers long, unlike today's Jinghu High-Speed Railway from Beijing to Shanghai, which is 1318 kilometers long). On November 19, Suzhou and Changshu fell. On December 2, Jiangyin, the first fortress of the Yangtze river defenses, was lost. On the 3rd, the Danyang positions were overrun. On the 5th, Zhenjiang, the second river-defense fortress, was abandoned.

From December 5 to 8, the Xiaguan docks in Nanjing and Pukou railway station across the river were packed with crowds, everyone in a panic and desperate to leave Nanjing.

With Nanjing in grave danger, the garrison headquarters ordered all military families to evacuate first with the Nationalist army's rear-service office. My grandfather took the family by ferry from Xiaguan to Pukou and reported to the railway station, from where they took a train by way of Xuzhou and Zhengzhou, making their roundabout way south to be resettled in Hankou.

While they waited for the train, my uncle broke a long silence and asked, "Dad, why aren't you coming with us?"

My mother and my second maternal aunt, standing nearby, burst into tears, and my grandmother kept wiping her eyes. My grandfather comforted the family: "There's still a lot to take care of in the army. You go to the interior first, and I'll join you later."

My grandfather reminded my grandmother, half joking: "Keep a close eye on this trunk. You can lose the children, but not the trunk."

The trunk held gifts that the Guangxu Emperor had bestowed on my great-grandfather (my mother's grandfather) Yin Yuegui (尹曰桂) when he retired and returned home. The most precious piece inside was a painting by Tang Yin (唐寅).

My grandfather was a courteous, unpretentious man, refined in both character and learning, tall, with fine, handsome features. That year at Pukou station, a bleak north wind blew and a cold, dreary early-winter drizzle was falling, deepening the sorrow of parting.

Bai Juyi's (白居易) poem "Parting at Nanpu" (南浦別): "A sad, sad parting at the southern shore; the west wind sighs in autumn. Each look back breaks the heart; go well, and do not turn your head" (南浦淒淒別，西風裊裊秋。一看腸一斷，好去莫回頭).

In the biting north wind, it was all the more heartbreaking. Life is uncertain: this farewell at Pukou turned out to be my grandfather's final parting from his family. (33)

Section 24: A Loyal Soul of His Generation
Lives On Forever

We learned of my grandfather's death for his country in early summer 1946 (year 35 of the Republic), after we reached Shenyang. Until then, everyone had held on to a thread of hope that we would meet again one day.

After the war, when the Nationalist Government went through the records of Nationalist army officers and soldiers missing from the defense of Nanjing, it confirmed that my grandfather had been killed in action facing the enemy, and we could only accept this cruel fact.

In March 1948 (year 37 of the Republic) we received a certificate of posthumous honour issued by the Nationalist Government, commending my grandfather's loyal deeds in dying in the defense of Nanjing against Japan as a model for the nation, and awarding the certificate to honor his memory forever. It was signed by the Chairman of the Nationalist Government, Chiang Kai-shek.

In April 1990, my parents went to the mainland to visit family. They met my second maternal aunt in Shanghai and hurried on to Nanjing. On the stone tablets of the Memorial Hall for Compatriots Killed in the Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Invaders, they searched for my grandfather's name, Yin Jihe (尹季和). The moment they found it, they all broke into tears. The next day, at the Catholic church in Nanjing, they held a memorial Mass for my grandfather, honoring his spirit in heaven from afar.

Standing on the Nanjing Yangtze River Bridge, they gazed at the old Xiaguan docks and at Pukou station, faintly visible on the far bank, and found the past too painful to look back on. My father's notebook records what he felt then: "Parted in life, separated by death, too painful to look back on. The rolling Yangtze flows ever east. Green hills and blue waters, the scenery unchanged. How many sunsets; the years go on and on." (34)

Section 25: The Children Were
The Real Treasure of Her Heart

The trunk of antiques, calligraphy and paintings that my grandfather had told my grandmother to guard so carefully when they parted at Pukou went through many moves, by way of Hankou, Changsha, Hengyang and other places, and after a long trek reached Qiyang, a pretty little county on the Xiang River in Hunan. The family lived there for nearly five months, and my mother attended four months of junior high classes at a local middle school.

The landlord, surnamed Xu, was an honest farmer with five sons and two daughters; he lived with his wife and youngest daughter. His eldest son was a second lieutenant and platoon leader in the Nationalist army, and all his children except the youngest daughter were married. He owned several houses in the county town and counted as a rich farmer. He and my grandmother got along like family.

At the end of October 1938 (year 27 of the Republic), Wuhan was abandoned and the situation in Hunan grew tense. In January of the next year, the army again moved the military families back, this time to Guilin, and my grandmother hurriedly left Qiyang with the children.

But the trunk of antiques that my grandfather had entrusted to my grandmother before Nanjing fell was left behind in the little attic of the rented house. By the time she remembered it, the train had already reached Quan County in Guangxi.

As soon as she reached Guilin she sent a telegram to old Mr. Xu, the landlord, and received the reply: "Your things are still here; please don't worry."

Not long after came news that Japanese planes had bombed Qiyang. The old landlord's house was not spared, and the antiques were reduced to ashes.

My grandmother always blamed herself, and whenever it came up she was full of regret. Now that my grandfather has met her again in heaven, he must surely be smiling and saying, "You still put the children first: you lost the antiques, but you didn't lose the children." (35)

Section 26: Ten Li of Foreign Concessions
Great Shanghai

In early March 1946, just when spring was warm and flowers were blooming south of the Yangtze, we left Nanjing. We took the night express on what was then the Jinghu Railway (Nanjing to Shanghai, 305 kilometers long) to Shanghai, stopping at Zhenjiang, Wujin (now Changzhou), Wuxi and Wu County (now Suzhou). At seven the next morning we arrived at Shanghai Station in Zhabei. It was my first train ride, and I was very excited.

We were met by Yin Shutian (尹書田) and his wife; though a generation below my mother in the family, he was seven years older than her. Even more of a happy surprise, my second maternal aunt and her husband were there too; the couple had come to Shanghai from Chengdu a week before us.

Before the war, Yin Shutian and his father had moved their textile mill from Qingdao to Shanghai, where it did very well. He arranged for us to stay for a while in a lane in the Xuhui district while we waited for a ship to Northeast China.

Several Jewish families lived in the lane. My sister and I played with quite a few Jewish children, and we could make ourselves understood with gestures.

Between 1938 and 1940, after Nazi Germany annexed Austria, the Jews were in grave danger. They sought exit visas from many countries and were turned down again and again. Only Ho Feng-Shan (何鳳山), Consul General at the Chinese Consulate General in Vienna, made an exception: he issued more than 1,900 visas for refuge in Shanghai, saving the lives and property of many Jews.

Ho Feng-Shan was a senior diplomat of the Republic of China, a native of Yiyang, Hunan, born in 1901 and died in 1997, with a doctorate in political economy from the University of Munich in Germany. (36)

Before the war, the Paramount was Shanghai's most famous place of entertainment. Its dance floor was busy all night long, the coffee was rich, the band played one jazz and pop tune after another, and guests danced to the music.

Wu Yingyin (吳鶯音), Yao Lee (姚莉), Bai Guang (白光), Zhou Xuan (周璇) and Yan Hua (嚴華) often sang there.

Walking the streets and lanes, past shops and homes, you could hear Mandarin pop songs playing on 78 rpm records at any time. He Luting's (賀綠汀) "The Wandering Songstress" (天涯歌女) and "Autumn Waters, My Beloved" (秋水伊人); Li Jinhua's (黎錦花) "Fragrance of the Night" (夜來香), "Kao Hong" (考紅) and "Picking Betel Nuts" (採檳榔); Yan Gongshang's (嚴工上) "Where Is the Moon?" (月亮在哪裡); Yan Hua's "Seeing You Off" (送君) and "Full Moon and Lovely Flowers" (月圓花好); Xian Xinghai's (冼星海) "Song at Midnight" (夜半歌聲); and Liu Xue'an's (劉雪庵) "When Will You Come Back?" (何日君再來): all good songs you could never tire of.

While in Shanghai we often went strolling around the old City God Temple and tasting the food there; Nanxiang xiaolongbao were already famous there at the time.

In those days you could still see small hand-rowed boats on the Huangpu River. The clock on the Customs House on the Bund chimed the hours, clear and pleasant, carrying ten li away. The Great World amusement center and walks through the shikumen lanes all left deep impressions on me.

Once we rode rickshaws over the Waibaidu Bridge (the Garden Bridge) to Yin Shutian's home on Tiantong Road for dumplings. His wife, Ms. Li Rongxin (李榮新), made wonderful boiled dumplings, filled with yellow chives and crab meat, along with vegetarian dumplings of shepherd's purse. Her way of cooking them was unique; they were fresh, tender and delicious, and I have never forgotten them.

After dark, on Nanjing Road and Avenue Joffre (now Huaihai Road), neon lights of every color flashed without pause, traffic streamed and crowds came and went. Streetcars and trolleybuses sped along the roads, ringing their pleasant bells. At intersections the poles on their roofs touched the overhead wires and gave off dazzling sparks, a beautiful sight.

Nothing describes Shanghai at night better than the song "Shanghai Nights" (夜上海) sung by Zhou Xuan: "Shanghai nights, Shanghai nights, you are a city that never sleeps. The lights come on, the cars roar, there's singing and dancing in times of peace. The wine doesn't make you drunk, you make yourself drunk, frittering away your youth in wild living." (37)

Section 27: Graceful Charm
Remembering Jiangnan

With five days still to go before the ship to the Northeast, our family of eight, including my second maternal aunt, her husband and my uncle, decided to use those days for a trip to Yangzhou, Zhenjiang and Suzhou.

On the morning of the first day we took the Jinghu Railway to Zhenjiang and went straight on by wooden boat on the Beijing–Hangzhou Grand Canal to Yangzhou. The next day we returned to Zhenjiang and spent a day there; on the third day we went to Suzhou, and on the fourth we returned to Shanghai.

By then the wooden boats on the Grand Canal were already driven by motors. The canal enters Jiangsu from Taierzhuang in Shandong, passes Jiangdu (Yangzhou), crosses the Yangtze to Zhenjiang, follows the Jinghu Railway to Wu County (Suzhou), and runs south along Lake Tai into Zhejiang, a course of 523 kilometers.

Yangzhou was where my father did his practical training in 1935 as a newly appointed warrant officer in signals. He was stationed at Tianning Temple, very close to Slender West Lake. The Tang poet Du Mu (杜牧) left these lines in Yangzhou: "Blue hills faint in the distance, the waters far away; autumn is over south of the Yangtze, yet the grass has not withered. On a moonlit night at the Twenty-Four Bridges, where is the jade-fair one teaching the flute?" (青山隱隱水迢迢，秋盡江南草未凋。二十四橋明月夜，玉人何處教吹簫。) They say everything about the graceful charm of the land south of the Yangtze.

When Emperor Yang of the Sui toured the south, he built a traveling palace in Yangzhou, and from then on the city's pleasure quarters flourished, with painted beauties, songs and music day and night. As the saying goes, "Of the world's moonlit nights, if there are three parts, two parts of moonlight belong to Yangzhou" (天下三分明月夜，二分明月在揚州), which shows how splendid Yangzhou was then.

Besides Tianning Temple, Yangzhou has the ruins of the Tang city, Daming Temple, the Han Tomb Museum and the former home of Zhu Ziqing (朱自清). Slender West Lake is lovelier still, with green willows casting shade, orioles flitting, lotus ponds giving off fragrance and gentle breezes bringing coolness, more beauty than one can take in. (38)

The next morning we returned to Zhenjiang, a famous cultural city in Chinese history, where the Yangtze, the Grand Canal and the Jinghu Railway (now the Shanghai–Nanjing Railway) meet. During the Republic of China's years on the mainland it was the capital of Jiangsu province. In the Three Kingdoms period it was a military base of Eastern Wu. Its outskirts hold Jinshan, Jiaoshan and Beigu Hill, strategic heights that armies have fought over since ancient times. Jinshan is known as a natural stronghold; in the Eastern Jin, Xie An (謝安) defeated the great army of Fu Jian (苻堅) of the Former Qin here.

Jinshan (Gold Hill), northwest of Zhenjiang, got its name in the Tang dynasty when gold was found while the hill was being quarried. We climbed Jinshan and went straight to Jinshan Temple. In the novel The Legend of the White Snake (白蛇傳), Xu Xian (許仙) and Lady White (白娘娘) move from Hangzhou to Zhenjiang after their marriage and open a pharmacy, curing many people of the plague and bringing blessings to the community. The story of the monk Fahai (法海) battling Lady White with magic, and of the flooding of Jinshan Temple, is known to every household.

The Mahavira Hall in Jinshan Temple has a distinctive style of architecture, with statues of arhats above the curved roofs on all four sides. Beside the temple stands the seven-story Cishou Pagoda; from the top, the Yangtze and the Grand Canal spread out below in a magnificent view.

Another sight at Jinshan Temple, the "Finest Spring Under Heaven," is a cold spring whose sweet, mellow water can be drunk straight. Clusters of lotus float on its pool, blooming first every spring, as they have for more than a hundred years.

Then we climbed Beigu Hill. The eastern part of today's Donghao Road at the foot of the hill is where my father studied and trained in 1935 in the Training Group of the Army Signal Corps.

My father gazed down from Beigu Hill at the rolling Yangtze, his mind full of a thousand thoughts: eight years of war, ten years of his life, all now in the past. The Southern Song poet Xin Qiji wrote "Thoughts on Climbing Beigu Hill" (登北固山有懷): "Where can I gaze upon the Central Land? The view from Beigu Tower fills my eyes. How many rises and falls through the ages? On and on, like the endless Yangtze rolling by" (何處望神州，滿眼風光北固樓。千古興亡多少事，悠悠，不盡長江滾滾流。). This moment and scene were exactly my father's state of mind.

Ganlu Temple stands at the top of the rear peak of Beigu Hill. The story in the Peking opera "Ganlu Temple" (甘露寺), "Master Zhou's clever plan to secure the realm cost him the lady and his soldiers too," took place here.

At the foot of Beigu Hill a peddler was calling out in a pleasant Wu dialect: "Five-spice beans, top-notch, so fragrant and rich you won't find them anywhere else!" My mother had not heard that familiar cry for ten years. It sounded almost exactly like the old man who sold five-spice beans at the school gate when she was in primary school in Zhenjiang. Five-spice beans are made from broad beans, a famous product of the region south of the Yangtze, and are a snack loved by young and old. (39)

In 1933 my mother moved with my grandmother from their hometown of Rizhao, Shandong, to Zhenjiang to join my grandfather. They lived on the east side of the city not far from the canal, near today's Tianqiao Road, in a house built in the Yongzheng period of the Qing dynasty.

I often heard my mother's Fifth Aunt, Ms. Yin Shiquan (尹世荃), whom I called Great-Aunt, tell of strange, supernatural things that had happened in this old courtyard house, stories that made your hair stand on end.

After the Mukden Incident of September 18, 1931, my great-uncle (my grandfather's elder brother) Yin Shikai (尹世鍇), a graduate of the sixth class of the infantry department of the Baoding Military Academy, became deputy commander, with the rank of lieutenant colonel, of the Training Group of the Army Signal Corps. The commander was Colonel Zhang Wen (張汶), who had a master's degree in electrical engineering from the United States. In 1935 Yin Shikai was formally made commander.

My father passed the entrance exam for the Signal Corps Training Group in 1933 and graduated and received his posting in 1935. He enlisted in Zhenjiang and received the Army's pre-service training for signal troops.

My father was the youngest in the unit, did well in his studies, had something of a scholar's air, and was quick-witted and mischievous; his superiors thought highly of him. Once he climbed over the wall to buy braised pig's trotters and pig's ears outside the camp to share with his classmates. Unluckily, Deputy Commander Yin caught him red-handed. The offense could have been treated lightly or severely; the officer was lenient, and after a scolding put him in confinement for one day.

Deputy Commander Yin was a big, burly man with an imposing manner, nicknamed "Big Belly." Little did he imagine that the student he punished would, a few years later, marry his niece. My father often told us this amusing story. (40)

On the morning of the third day, a little after nine, we arrived in Suzhou, where we chose to visit four sights: the Lion Grove Garden, the Humble Administrator's Garden, the Xuanmiao Temple and Hanshan Temple.

Suzhou, also called Wu County and Gusu, lies northeast of Lake Tai on what is now the Shanghai–Nanjing Railway. In the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, King Helü (闔閭) of Wu made it his capital, and it became the cultural, economic and transport center of the Lake Tai basin. It is famous for hand embroidery and jade carving. Its outskirts are level green fields and bright scenery, and the city is crisscrossed by canals, a land of water that has been called "the Venice of China." Since ancient times it has been praised in the saying, "Above there is heaven; below there are Suzhou and Hangzhou."

Leaving the station, we went straight to the Lion Grove Garden, one of Suzhou's four great gardens, built in the Zhizheng era of the Yuan dynasty (1341–1367). It has rockeries and grottoes, towers, terraces and pavilions, winding paths leading to secluded spots, and the delicate beauty of water and stone; it is a masterpiece of Chinese garden architecture.

Next we went to the Humble Administrator's Garden, also one of Suzhou's four great gardens, built in the Jiajing era of the Ming dynasty (1522–1566) and named after the phrase "the clumsy one governs" by the Eastern Jin literary master Pan Yue (潘岳). The garden is full of pools of every kind, with pavilions, halls and towers built along the water; each pavilion, tower, hall and waterside terrace is a beauty in its own right.

Before dusk we came to the Xuanmiao Temple, an old temple. The street in front of it, called Guanqian Street, was like the area around Shanghai's City God Temple, lined with all kinds of snack stalls and with acrobats and variety acts from north and south, and it was a center for selling Suzhou embroidery, tea and local products. Today the Guanqian Street night market is a must-see in Suzhou. The next day we visited Hanshan Temple. (41)

Hanshan Temple lies west of Suzhou on the banks of the Beijing–Hangzhou Grand Canal. It was built in the Tianjian era of Emperor Wu of Liang in the Southern Dynasties (502–519). The Tang poet and eminent monk Hanshan (寒山) once served as its abbot, and it was named after him.

The Tang poet Zhang Ji (張繼) wrote a poem of pure, far-reaching feeling: "The moon sets, crows caw, frost fills the sky; river maples and fishing lights face my troubled sleep. From Hanshan Temple outside the city of Gusu, the midnight bell reaches the traveler's boat" (月落烏啼霜滿天，江楓漁火對愁眠。姑蘇城外寒山寺，夜半鐘聲到客船).

Zhang Ji wrote this poem of lasting feeling and supreme beauty one autumn night while moored near Maple Bridge by Hanshan Temple in Suzhou, and people have recited it for more than 1,200 years.

During the August 13 Battle of Shanghai in 1937, my father was stationed in the temple, in charge of connecting calls at the military telephone switchboard. Two things he never forgot: one was handling, in a crisis, a call between Generalissimo Chiang and General Tang Enbo (湯恩伯); the other was shooting dead two traitors who had cut the telephone lines.

Now, returning after the victory, my father was back in a familiar place. The past came back to life; the scene was unchanged, but the people were not, and old feelings lingered, a longing hard to put into words.

In 1990 my parents revisited Hanshan Temple. The past was gone, but my father had a precious photo taken in front of the old switchboard room.

In 2015, when my father had been gone for many years and my mother was recovering from illness, I visited Hanshan Temple with my wife and son. The switchboard room was still there, and we took a photo in the same spot to remember that chapter of my father's history.

Recently, gazing at the two photos, I found myself missing my parents. Remembering what my father told me, I seemed to see the Hanshan Temple of his younger days. (42)

Chapter 3: Storm after Storm
Drifting On

The Chinese nation has had a hard and troubled fate. After eight years of the War of Resistance against Japan (fourteen years for our compatriots in the Northeast), we finally won a victory bought at a terrible price. The whole nation rejoiced for only a moment before civil war followed close behind. The life of wandering and hardship began all over again, and the stories of partings in life and death went on without end. Brothers fought each other, and we were born at the wrong time. Whom should we resent, whom should we blame? That I leave for history to judge.

In the Northeast after the victory, the confrontation between the Nationalists and the Communists had reached white heat, and civil war was bound to break out.

Because of his family background and his own military training, my father resolutely took his family to the Northeast. For the eight years of the war, the interior (Free China) had been our home; after the victory, the Northeast became our front line.

My uncle (my mother's brother) did not come with us. In June that year he went to Qingdao with my second maternal aunt and her husband to finish his high school studies. (43)

Section 28: Riding the Wind and Waves
Heading for the Liao Plains

In late March 1946 (year 35 of the Republic), we left Shanghai aboard the steamer Zhongxing (中興號), bound for Dalian. On board with us were the officers and men of an engineer battalion and a signal company.

Before this I knew nothing at all about the sea, and I was full of curiosity about the ocean. All I knew about the Northeast was that it grew soybeans and sorghum. When the big ship sounded its whistle and set off, my heart was full of joy. We boarded at the Shiliupu Wharf on the Bund, sailed out of the Huangpu River and passed Wusongkou (today's Yangshan Port). In the glow of the setting sun the Bund looked especially lovely, and I felt a little sad to leave it. Past the Wusong forts we reached the mouth of the Yangtze River, where the East China Sea meets the Yellow Sea. To my amazement, as the ship crossed the dividing line I could clearly see the yellow river water turn in an instant into blue sea water. A small island in the distance, Sheshan, slowly disappeared into the sea. Before long the ship entered the Yellow Sea; the sky had grown dark and the stars came out. (44)

Under the moon, the ship sailed across the sea toward Dalian, at 38 degrees north latitude and 121.6 degrees east longitude, and my father marked the position on a map. Children remember things easily, and from then on I learned to read latitude and longitude, seas, islands, currents and weather on a map.

The sea breeze blew gently, the moon and stars glittered high in the sky, seagulls flew alongside, and the great ship cut through the waves. What a breathtaking night at sea it was.

On the vast sea, at the moment the sun rose from the horizon, the lights came on in the cabins and the watch bell rang. Land could be faintly seen in the distance: we were nearly at Dalian.

The ship drew closer and closer to land and was about to enter port. A man from the Northeast said in surprise, "That's not right. This isn't Dalian harbor. How did we end up at Huludao?"

Only after we docked did we learn that something had gone wrong at Dalian: the Soviet army was making trouble, and Nationalist and Communist troops had clashed. Dalian was not meant for us. (45)

Section 29: A Moving Handover of Prisoners for Repatriation

Huludao has since been raised to the status of a city. It lies in the Liaoxi Corridor on the west shore of Liaodong Bay. To its southwest is the historic town of Xingcheng (now part of Huludao city), the oldest town in the Northeast. In the Ming dynasty it was called Ningyuan, and it was here that Yuan Chonghuan (袁崇煥) defeated Aisin Gioro Nurhaci (愛新覺羅努爾哈赤) with "red barbarian" cannons.

Today Huludao is a swimwear manufacturing city; its quality swimsuits make up one fifth of the world's supply, and every winter it holds a well-known winter swimming event. In 1954 the Bohai Shipyard of mainland China built here the world's largest ore carrier, of 360,000 tons.

Huludao has deep water and a fine harbor that does not freeze in winter. Together with Dalian and Yingkou it is counted among the three great ports of the Northeast. During the civil war, until the Northeast was lost, it remained in Nationalist hands throughout.

After landing, we spent the night in the port authority's staff quarters. The dockworkers were busy unloading cargo all night, and several merchant ships lay in the bay waiting to come in.

The army cooks were the first off the ship, and the local quartermaster sent over sack after sack of flour and sorghum. Who would have thought that our first meal in the Northeast would be scallion pancakes and sorghum porridge? (46)

The next day a scene unfolded before us that stirred mixed feelings and that I will never forget. A ship chartered by the International Red Cross sailed into the harbor; the wharf was not far from our quarters.

Before noon a train from Shenyang pulled into the port area. There was no platform for it to stop at, and from far off we could see countless Japanese prisoners of war and Japanese civilians stepping down from every car. Their insignia of rank had been removed, so there was no telling officers from men. Escorted by Nationalist military police, they walked slowly and in good order toward the wharf.

As the column passed our quarters we could see everything clearly. Among the prisoners and civilians, some carried portraits of Chairman Chiang in military uniform and cardboard signs reading "A kindness we can never repay" (德恩難報). Behind them followed a crowd of ragged old people, women and children. In August 1945 these Japanese civilians had been hunted down and abused by unruly Soviet soldiers; they had fled in all directions and taken refuge at the Nationalist army's repatriation center for prisoners and civilians in Jinzhou.

The column was utterly silent, and every one of them walked with head bowed. The government had made it known beforehand that no one, at any place or any time, was to show hatred or act roughly toward the Japanese prisoners and civilians. My mother glared at every Japanese soldier who passed, thinking of the moment her own father fell in Nanjing, cruelly killed by the Japanese army.

Seventy years later, in 2016, my younger son Anderson was on good terms with a colleague of Japanese descent. This colleague told him about his grandfather, who had served the Japanese army as a Chinese interpreter on the China front and had lived through many things too painful to look back on. Of the Chinese soldiers sent to prison camps as slave laborers, those who did not die in the camps and lived to see China's victory were counted the luckiest.

When his grandfather learned that Japan had surrendered unconditionally to the Allies, he was first terrified, then wailed, and then fell into deep thought. When it was confirmed that China would be repaying evil with good and sending the Japanese prisoners and civilians home, he trembled all over and shed tears of gratitude. Yet when the repatriation ship sailed into Kagoshima, he stood dumbstruck, without a word. (47)

Section 30: Soybeans and Sorghum, Fragrant Across the Land

As it turned out, we rode the very train that had brought the Japanese prisoners and civilians, heading north to Shenyang on the Beining Railway (today's Beijing–Harbin Railway). The officers and men from the Zhongxing rode the same train on to Changchun. The cars were crude, each with only a few hard seats. We stopped to rest at Jinzhou and Xinmin along the way and reached Shenyang after about five or six hours.

During the War of Resistance against Japan there were many stirring patriotic songs that lifted people's spirits: "Ballad of the Great Wall" (長城謠), "China Will Not Perish" (中國不會亡) and "March of the Volunteers" (義勇軍進行曲) were all songs I sang then. I still remember the words and tune of "On the Songhua River" (松花江上) from the "Exile Trilogy" (流亡三部曲), and now and then I sing it at gatherings: "My home is on the Songhua River in the Northeast, where there are forests and coal mines, and soybeans and sorghum covering the hills and plains," and "In what year, in what month, can I return to my beloved homeland?" And now, unexpectedly, we had set foot on the magnificent land of the Northeast ourselves.

The train rolled across the broad plains of southern Liaoning, and we enjoyed the gentle breeze and bright sunshine of March. The sorghum and soybean fields in the distance stretched as far as the eye could see, a landscape completely different from the terraced fields I had seen in Sichuan.

After dark we checked into an inn. Not far away was a theater called the Youth Hall (青年館), then the finest place of entertainment in Shenyang, a two-story building in the style of an opera house. Bai Guang (白光), the film and singing star known as the "femme fatale of her generation," sang there in the summer of 1946 (year 35 of the Republic). Her songs, which swept the nation at the time, included "Autumn Night" (秋夜), "Good Times" (好時光), "Haunted by Old Dreams" (魂縈舊夢), "Lonely in Her Chamber" (蘭閨寂寂) and "I Am a Drifting Duckweed" (我是浮萍一片), and for a while her devoted fans all over Shenyang were wild about her. In the corridor hung a huge photograph of Bai Guang, with a line by Du Fu (杜甫) written beside it: "Such a tune should belong only in heaven; how many times can it be heard on earth?" (此曲只應天上有，人間能得幾回聞)

For intermission music the Youth Hall played only one piece, "The Cuckoo Waltz" (杜鵑圓舞曲) by Johann Strauss. Its lively rhythm never grew tiresome, however often I heard it. My acquaintance with Western classical music began at this time. (48)

Two days later my father reported to his new unit, the headquarters of the Army's 9th Signal Regiment, as a signals staff officer. In June 1946 he received orders for an outside posting and was seconded to the Wire Communications Battalion of the Ministry of Communications' Second Traffic Police Bureau as a squadron commander, responsible for telephone communications along the China Changchun Railway (the Harbin–Dalian section, 944 kilometers long). We moved into the Ministry of Communications staff quarters in Tiexi District, where we lived until we left Shenyang in April 1948 (year 37 of the Republic).

The staff quarters stood near today's Shenyang University of Technology and covered a little over a thousand square meters. There were two rows of Japanese-style single-story brick houses, ten homes to a row, and in the open space between the rows grew 40 cherry trees and 40 apricot trees. Each row faced a road five meters away, and stone steps led up to the front doors. We lived in the first house on the west road. Inside the door was a tatami living room, raised on thick wooden boards about one meter above the ground, built entirely with the bitter winters of the Northeast in mind. (49)

Section 31: Apricot and Cherry Blossoms Bloom Together

In April in Shenyang, peach, plum, apricot and cherry trees were all in bud, and in May they gradually came into bloom. Twice in Shenyang I watched the whole process of the apricot trees flowering and bearing fruit, and enjoyed the pleasure of picking the fruit. I also saw the cherry trees burst into countless blossoms that opened quickly and fell just as quickly.

Apricot and cherry blossoms are alike in some ways: both bloom in spring, both flower before they leaf, and both have five petals. They differ in that apricot blossoms are only single, while cherry blossoms can be single or double. Apricot buds are red, the open flowers are pink, and they gradually turn white as they fade. Cherry blossoms keep the same color from opening to falling. The cherry blossoms of Nara and Kyoto in Japan are mostly double and pink, while those of China's Northeast are mostly double and white.

Tang and Song poetry has many lines about apricot blossoms, such as "The garden cannot lock in all its spring color; a spray of red apricot reaches out over the wall" (春色滿園關不住，一枝紅杏出牆來), by Ye Shaoweng (葉紹翁) of the Song; "May I ask where a tavern can be found? The herd boy points far off to Apricot Blossom Village" (借問酒家何處有，牧童遙指杏花村), by Du Mu (杜牧) of the Tang; and "The moon sets, the cuckoo falls silent; the courtyard is full of mountain apricot blossoms" (月落子規歇，滿庭山杏花) and "After the rain comes the slanting sun; apricot blossoms fall, still fragrant" (雨後却斜陽，杏花零落香), by Wen Tingyun (溫庭筠) of the Tang. Every line is full of feeling and mood, gentle and lovely.

Tang poetry also has many lines describing cherry blossoms: "How long will the cherry blossoms stay in full glory? The green willows and red peaches know nothing of the rain" (櫻花爛漫幾多時，柳綠桃紅雨未知), by Li Shangyin (李商隱); "In my small garden I have newly planted red cherry trees; strolling idly around the blossoms is outing enough" (小園新種紅櫻樹，閑繞花行便當遊), by Bai Juyi (白居易); "Beneath the cherry tree, as I saw you off, every inch of my spring heart followed the broken branch" (櫻花樹下送君時，一寸春心逐折枝), by Yuan Zhen (元稹); and "Yesterday, after fresh rain in the south garden, cherry blossoms burst out on the old branches" (昨日南園新雨後，櫻桃花發舊枝柯), by Zhang Ji (張籍), all poets of the Tang.

Shenyang lies at 42 degrees north latitude, and by the time the cold ends and spring arrives it is already April. Apricot and cherry trees love warmth, so they bloom later here than in North China, but the late flowers are more vivid.

Young and foolish as I was, I tore the full-blown cherry blossoms to shreds, simply because they were the national flower of Japan, while I put apricot blossoms in a vase to admire at leisure. (50)

Section 32: Repaying Kindness with Hatred, Without Remorse

That aggression must fail is a law of heaven and earth, and in 1945 (year 34 of the Republic) Japan at last tasted the bitter fruit of national ruin. China's losses in the eight-year War of Resistance were devastating. The Nationalist army conscripted 14 million men, and 3.2 million officers and men were killed or wounded. Among the generals who fell were 8 full generals, 58 lieutenant generals and 239 major generals. Ten million civilians were killed or wounded, 300,000 of our compatriots died in the Nanjing Massacre, and the people lost 30 billion US dollars in property.

Our government repaid evil with good. It treated Japan generously, left the emperor system in place and repatriated the Japanese prisoners and civilians humanely. Yet some diehard Japanese remnants felt no remorse and repaid kindness with hatred.

Not long after we moved into the Ministry of Communications staff quarters (formerly the staff housing of Japan's South Manchuria Railway Company), I grew curious about the world beneath the tatami, one meter above the ground, and longed to find out what was there. I got together with neighborhood children, three of us in all, and we set off on an expedition. We squeezed through a vent window about 40 centimeters square. Inside the light was dim and gusts of cold air blew through, and we all started shivering.

We found it was an underground storeroom holding more than ten wooden crates of porcelain, books, tools and other things. There was also a locked sheet-metal trunk; we had no idea what was inside. The housing management committee reported it to the police, and it turned out to contain rifles, pistols and other weapons.

While my mother and I were clearing out a wardrobe, we were startled to find, in large chilling characters, the words "We will fight our way back in a few years." There was also a piece of cardboard about 10 inches long and 8 inches wide with a decorated border, a Japanese military flag painted at the top center and some Japanese writing on it.

My father asked old Mr. Bian (邊), the father of a colleague and also our neighbor, who had a deep command of Japanese, to translate it. It turned out to be the words of a song, meant to honor and console the heroic spirits of kamikaze pilots who had lost their lives, and to spur those who followed them to keep up their loyalty to the emperor. (51)

In 1281 (year 18 of the Zhiyuan era of Emperor Shizu of the Yuan dynasty), Emperor Shizu, Kublai Khan, personally led a campaign against Japan. On the way his fleet was struck by a typhoon and the whole force was lost. The Japanese believed that a "divine wind" (kamikaze) sent by heaven had saved Japan, and so in World War II they named their suicide air units the "kamikaze special attack units."

Translated, the words on that cardboard read: "Cherry blossoms are like people, neither grass nor tree; the lovely butterfly is my wife. Cherry blossoms in full bloom, petals falling in profusion, gone with the wind, forever fragrant spirits. Drifting this morning, floating away tomorrow; cherry blossom, cherry blossom, I will follow your example."

Looking back now, such deaths were utterly worthless, nothing but blind loyalty to the emperor, and did nothing to change Japan's fate of defeat. Judging from the words "We will fight our way back in a few years" found in the wardrobe, the seeds of a militarist comeback were planted in Japan the moment the war ended.

There are many reasons why postwar Japan was able to rise quickly from the ruins, rebuild and reach its prosperity today. Credit goes to its people's determination to better themselves and strive upward, and to its government's skillful use of circumstances and careful planning. But in the long river of history, Japan's overall national strength will be limited by the wider world. Its age of peace and prosperity will bloom and fade quickly like the cherry blossom and be gone with the wind; at most it will be just another Switzerland of Europe. (52)

Another thing I cannot forget also has to do with the Japanese. In the summer vacation of 1946, I passed the entrance exam for the second grade at Zhongxing Primary School in Tiexi District, Shenyang. Before school started, I arranged with neighborhood children who were about to become my classmates to go to a farm to pick muskmelons, with golden skins and sweet white flesh, fragrant and crisp. On the way home we met a Japanese man and woman of about 50. Though it was nearly dusk, one of my classmates recognized them at a glance: they were Mr. and Mrs. Yamamoto, whose son was a major in the Japanese army. My classmates flew into a rage and picked up stones to throw at the two of them. In the heat of the moment I grabbed a melon in place of a stone and joined in. The couple said nothing; they lowered their heads and hurried away.

As luck would have it, one stone struck the woman right on the head. Blood poured out at once, and she sat down on the ground clutching her head in pain. We jumped for joy and shouted, "Good shot! Good shot!"

Then we all threw at the Japanese man, and at last he spoke in halting Northeastern Chinese: "Stop throwing, stop throwing, you're going to kill someone. My son has already died in battle in China. What more do you want? We're going back to Japan next month."

What followed was shout after shout: "Go back! Go back!" Looking back, we did go too far. Whenever these past events come up, I always wonder whether the same kind of thing happened when Taiwan was restored to China. (53)

Section 33: The Qing Secondary Capital, Rich in Historic Sites

Looking through Chinese history, when the outside peoples of the Liao and the Jin rose to power, each first conquered Shenyang. Nurhaci, founding emperor (Taizu) of the Qing (1559–1626, died at 67), defeated the Ming armies and, overriding all objections, moved his capital to Shenyang. Hong Taiji (皇太極), Emperor Taizong of the Qing (1592–1643, died at 51), trained and marshaled his troops here for eight years, then took the Ming empire in a single stroke. After the capital was set in Beijing, Shenyang was honored as the secondary capital.

In 1644 Wu Sangui (吳三桂) let the Qing troops through the pass, and the Qing court began its rule. Hong Taiji's son Aisin Gioro Fulin (愛新覺羅福臨) took the throne, with the temple name Shizu and the reign title Shunzhi. Ten emperors reigned in all, until Puyi (溥儀), the Xuantong Emperor, abdicated in 1911. Dr. Sun Yat-sen led the revolution that overthrew the Manchu Qing and founded the Republic of China. The Qing ruled China for 268 years in all. During that time the Qing court spared no effort building up the Northeast. Shenyang became the transport hub for travel inside the Great Wall and a center of industry, politics and culture, and it was left with many splendid historic sites.

The Qing Imperial Palace, the East Tomb, the North Tomb, Huanggutun Station and the former residence of Zhang Xueliang (張學良) have all become historic attractions.

Apart from the Forbidden City in Beijing, the Qing Imperial Palace is the largest palace in China. In 1928 (year 17 of the Republic), the Nationalist government opened it to the public and, based mainly on its original collections, founded the Shenyang Palace Museum.

The East Tomb is the resting place of Nurhaci, Emperor Taizu of the Qing, and his empress of the Yehe Nara (葉赫那拉) clan; it is also called the Qing Fu Tomb (Fuling).

The North Tomb, where Hong Taiji, Emperor Taizong of the Qing, and his empress of the Borjigit (博爾濟吉特) clan are buried, is also called the Qing Zhao Tomb (Zhaoling).

The two tombs are laid out in much the same way. The ground rises gradually from south to north, with flagstone paths and stone steps leading upward, red walls and yellow tiles, imposing in scale and grand in design. (54)

In the two years we lived in Shenyang, I visited the Qing Imperial Palace once with my parents, and went with classmates to Fuling and Zhaoling once each. In those days I loved sports, outings in the countryside and the scenery after snow.

I wore a leather cap lined with rabbit fur and a sheepskin jacket with the hide inside and the wool outside, which seemed quite odd to me. The leather cap looked a lot like a Japanese soldier's cap and covered my ears and neck so they would not freeze.

My heavy padded cotton trousers were very warm, and I wore a knitted wool scarf around my neck. My padded mittens had a thin cord sewn to their cuffs and hung around my neck, so that a restless child would not lose them by accident.

On my feet I wore snow boots made of pressed wula grass (烏拉草, also written 靰鞡草). Well-off families added a whole piece of cowhide to the outside for the uppers and sole, with a row of stitched pleats across the front and a band of cloth around the top, which looked handsome and grand.

Wula grass snow boots are shaped like boots, and in the ice and snow you can walk and work in them without fear of frozen feet. Wula grass, ginseng and sable fur are the three treasures of the Northeast.

With a strip of sheet iron nailed to the soles, the snow boots could be used for skating on the snow, and even better on icy roads. Every child in the Northeast was an expert skater who could perform difficult moves. Skating on the snow in winter was the favorite outdoor pastime of primary and middle school students.

Many plum trees were planted at the North Tomb, and they bloomed in the twelfth lunar month. During the winter vacation of 1947 (year 36 of the Republic), after a heavy snowfall before the Spring Festival, I arranged with my young friends to go, fully dressed for winter, to see the plum blossoms and enjoy the pleasure of treading the snow in search of plum blossoms.

As we walked we sang the children's song "Treading the Snow in Search of Plum Blossoms" (踏雪尋梅), with music by Huang Tzu (黃自) and words by Liu Xue'an (劉雪庵): "The snow has stopped, the sky is clear and bright, wintersweet is fragrant everywhere. Riding a donkey across the Ba Bridge, the little bells go ding-dong. Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong. Fine flowers set in a vase to tend, to keep me company with the sound of reading and the zither, as we share good times together."

At the time I did not know that the song was inspired by the story of the Tang poet Meng Haoran (孟浩然) riding a donkey across a bridge on a snowy night in search of plum blossoms.

In the Northeastern countryside, farmers commonly kept little donkeys. Had we been able to ride one in search of the plum blossoms, it would have had a charm all its own. Of course, we could not have felt what Meng Haoran felt: a life of tranquility and far-reaching thought, apart from the dust of the world, with a recluse's quiet pleasures. (55)

Five li southwest of the Qing Imperial Palace and northeast of Youth Park, along what are now Fengyutan Street and Renao Street, was Shenyang's commercial center in those days. Shops lined both sides of the streets, a place for shopping, eating and entertainment all in one. Vehicles were barred from the streets, and peddlers could set up stalls in the middle of the road.

In the winter of 1946, here I first enjoyed the taste of steamed cornbread (wowotou), Inner Mongolian lamb skewers and Laobian dumplings. I even saw storytelling, acrobatics, peep shows (lāyángpiān), Japanese sumo matches and other curiosities. I also bought the first Christmas card of my life and heard the story of Santa Claus.

I was fascinated by the peep show, this folk performing art. I loved to hear the showman standing beside his big wooden box, pulling the ropes and beating the gongs and drums: "Qi-bu-long-dong-qiang, qi-bu-long-dong-qiang, dong-qiang, dong-qiang, dong-dong-qiang," and his singing: "Hey, take a peek inside, have a look in there, look at this first picture. In the dead of winter, the twelfth month, what bitter cold! On the front hill the snow is over three feet deep; on the back hill the heavy snow has buried the road. So cold the tiger crawls into his cave, so frozen the woodcutter comes down the mountain," and "Qi-bu-long-dong-qiang, qi-bu-long-dong-qiang, dong-dong-qiang, dong-dong-qiang, dong-qiang, dong-qiang, dong-dong-qiang." The endlessly varied lyrics, matched to the pictures, held us spellbound and loath to leave.

By June 1983 this old marketplace had been expanded into the Wuai Market, which, together with the Hongcheng Market in Nanchang, Jiangxi, the Hanzheng Street Market in Wuhan, the Yiwu Small Commodities City and the Gaoqiao Market in Changsha, is counted among China's five great trade markets. (56)

Section 34: Brothers Fight, and Civil War Breaks Out

On July 23, 1921 (year 10 of the Republic), the Chinese Communist Party was founded in Shanghai with the backing of the Russian Communist Party.

During the Northern Expedition, the Communists watched for chances to seize control of the central leadership and infiltrated the Whampoa Military Academy and the Northern Expedition forces. This led the Chinese Nationalist Party (Kuomintang) to carry out its party purge in April 1927 (year 16 of the Republic). That in turn grew into the first civil war between the Nationalists and the Communists, which lasted ten long years, from 1927 to 1937.

In the meantime, the struggle between the Nationalist government led by the Kuomintang and the local regimes led by the Communist Party eased and went underground after the peaceful resolution of the Xi'an Incident.

The outbreak of full-scale war against Japan in 1937 (year 26 of the Republic) gave the Communists another chance to grow strong. During the eight years of the war, the Communist Party secretly ordered its regional committees to carry out the "7-2-1 policy" to the letter: seventy percent of its effort on expanding its power, twenty percent on dealing with the Kuomintang and ten percent on fighting Japan. Its aim of founding a new China never wavered.

On August 15, 1945, Japan surrendered unconditionally to the Allies. On August 27, through the mediation of US President Truman, Mao Zedong and Chiang Kai-shek met in Chongqing. Truman hoped the meeting between Mao and Chiang would lead the two parties to form a coalition government leading a united China, so that the hard-won fruits of the war would not be lost to civil war.

Mao Zedong stayed in Chongqing for 46 days and on October 10 signed the famous Double Tenth Agreement, as a show of his sincerity about cooperation between the two parties.

Mao flew back to Yan'an on October 11. Speaking to his confidants about the Chongqing negotiations, he said, "That's only something on paper." (57)

Such was the trend of events that, with World War II ending, the Soviet Union stood to gain in China. On April 5, 1945, the Soviet Union announced that it would not renew the Soviet–Japanese Neutrality Pact (日蘇互不侵犯條約).

On August 9, 127 days later, the Soviet Union declared war on Japan. Less than a week later, on August 15, Japan surrendered to the Allies. The Soviets promptly marched into the Northeast and set up their positions to receive the Communist Eighth Route Army and New Fourth Army, which had already massed on the edges of the Northeast, so that they could take over the Northeast one step ahead of the Nationalist army. From then on, military clashes between the Nationalist and Communist armies in the Northeast never ceased.

In December that year, George Marshall went to Chongqing as the US President's special envoy to mediate. On January 10 of the following year (1946), the two parties signed a ceasefire agreement, but it bore out Mao's words: "That's only something on paper." The fighting began in the Northeast and spread across the whole country. In the winter of 1947, the Communists issued the "Manifesto of the Chinese People's Liberation Army" (中國人民解放軍宣言), drafted by Mao Zedong, which put forward the slogan "Down with Chiang Kai-shek, liberate all of China." (58)

After the Spring Festival of 1948, an ominous mood hung over the whole sky of the Northeast. The Nationalist forces fell back step by step, large numbers of troops massed at Changchun and Siping, and Shenyang's safety was threatened. Overland routes to China inside the Great Wall were completely cut off, and the only way out was by air. Plane tickets were almost impossible to get, but my father did everything he could and bought one full-fare ticket and four half-fare tickets to put his family on a plane. That day was April 5. We said goodbye to my father and boarded a C-47 transport plane for Qingdao, to take refuge with my mother's uncle Yin Dingwu (尹鼎武), the county magistrate-in-exile of Rizhao County, Shandong.

In February 1948, as the situation in the Northeast grew tense, my father was ordered back to his original unit as deputy commander of the 1st Battalion of the Army's 9th Signal Regiment, responsible for operations in the areas along the line from Shenyang to Jinzhou.

In July that year, the People's Liberation Army laid siege to Changchun for three long months. The Nationalist troops ran out of ammunition and food, and nearly a hundred thousand soldiers and civilians died of hunger and thirst. My father was ordered to rush to the relief of the city; he was lucky to escape and returned to Shenyang.

Before Shenyang fell to the Communists on November 2, Nie Ying (聶英), commander of the 9th Signal Regiment, was secretly in league with the Communist army and urged my father to go over to them. On October 31, my father and my mother's uncle Mr. Yin Chaomin (尹超民), a cousin of her father's who served in the police, slipped out of the city overnight and, by every kind of transport and on foot, reached Peiping on November 16.

On November 29 the Pingjin Campaign between the Nationalists and the Communists began, lasting 64 days until January 31 of the following year. Before Peiping fell, with the help of General Yin Zuogan (尹作幹), my father and Yin Qimin (尹起民) took the same plane to Qingdao, where my father was reunited with his wife and children. My father joined the 4th Section of the 50th Army headquarters as a major and signals staff officer. (59)

Section 35: Flying over Mountains and Rivers, Remembering Those Left Behind

On the afternoon of April 5, 1948, there were three flights out of the Beiling military airfield in Shenyang, bound for Peiping, Qingdao and Shanghai. Toward evening we left for Qingdao. Every passenger was tense and silent.

The plane taxied onto the runway, its engines deafening, then went to full power and soared into the sky, flying south like a wild goose. The things on the ground grew smaller and smaller, and Shenyang slowly disappeared from sight. All at once I missed our home in Shenyang, the neighbors we had lived beside for two years, my teachers and my classmates. As for the unknowable future, I dared not imagine it: this was yet another parting of a husband from his wife and children.

"Smoke from the hearths before the houses as dusk draws near; on the hilltops a sharp wind drives the clouds to and fro. A few village homes amid the partridges' calls; flying over mountains and rivers, I remember those left behind" (屋前煙火欲黃昏，山頭急風來去雲。鷓鴣聲裡數家村，飛越江山憶故人). At that moment, looking down at the land beneath the clouds, I saw it already ablaze with the beacon fires of war. In what year, in what month, would clear light shine on it again?

In the war against Japan, a parting at Pukou had become a parting forever: my grandfather (my mother's father) fell in Nanjing, and my grandmother (my mother's mother), with three children, went through untold hardships and storm after storm as she wandered to Chongqing. Just when, after all that endurance, the victory was almost in sight, my grandmother died far from home. Now misfortune had struck our family and our country again. We had not had even two years of peace, and my mother, like my grandmother before her, had to set out on the road of exile with four children.

"People are like autumn geese with no fixed home; events are like smoke and clouds, hard to grasp" (人似秋鴻無定所，事如煙雲難捉摸). What weighed most on my heart was my father's safety in the Northeast. (60)

Section 36: Many Charms
In Qingdao

The flight from Shenyang to Qingdao covers 656 kilometers. After nearly two hours in the air, we arrived after dark at Qingdao's Sifang Airport (today's Jiaodong International Airport).

Looking out the plane window, I saw a bright moon hanging high among countless stars, and below, the scattered lights on the ground. It was truly a time when "the bright moon follows people as they come, and the star bridge shines with lanterns" (明月逐人來，星橋燈耀時).

The weather that day was warm, unlike April in Shenyang, and as soon as we stepped off the plane we could feel how pleasant the climate was. Outside the airport we hired two yellow rickshaws and went straight to the Qingchang Compound at No. 28, Xiaogang First Road in the North District, the home of my great-uncle Yin Dingwu. Along the way the streets were neat and clean, shaded everywhere by green trees, lush with foliage and flowers, as lovely as a painting.

The person who opened the door was my uncle. My mother and he were overcome at seeing each other and wept in each other's arms.

The Qingchang Compound covered about an acre, with single-story brick buildings that served as both warehouse and home. Its owner was a Yin clansman from our home region who had owned a fishing fleet back home in Rizhao, supplying fish to the towns around Qingdao. During the war against Japan, Rizhao fell into Communist hands as a "liberated area," and he led a group of relatives and friends to Qingdao to make a new start. He switched to the grain trade, did very well and became quite well known in business circles, and his Qingchang Compound became a temporary shelter for people from home when they first arrived in Qingdao. He called my great-uncle "Sixth Brother," and my mother called him "Second Uncle."

Living with my great-uncle's family was his sister, my mother's aunt, whom I called Great-Aunt.

When my mother saw the uncle and aunt she had been apart from for twelve years, it felt like another lifetime. She burst into loud sobs, and all the bitterness in her heart poured out. That evening, accompanied by Great-Aunt, we went to pay our respects to the close elder relatives living in the compound. (61)

First we called on my mother's Fourth Great-Uncle, Mr. Yin Juesheng (尹爵生), a public servant who had served five terms as head of Jiacang Town in Rizhao County. He had four sons and two daughters. In 1949 (year 38 of the Republic), apart from his eldest and second sons, who stayed on the mainland, all of them moved to Taiwan with the government. His third son, Yin Chaomin, was my mother's Fourteenth Uncle; he served in the police for forty years, as police chief and chief inspector of provincial cities. His fourth son, Yin Shiyi (尹世鎰), was my mother's Fifteenth Uncle; he served as personnel director of the Miaoli County Government, as a section chief in the Executive Yuan's Central Personnel Administration, and as personnel director of the Central Mint.

Another was my mother's Second Aunt, the niece of Yin Zichu (尹子初), the aviator who in the early years of the Republic became the first Chinese to fly a military airplane from Russia to China. Yin Zichu's younger brother was General Yin Zuogan (courtesy name Zigu, 子固), a graduate of the infantry course of the Baoding Military Academy and former commander of the Army's 9th Division.

Early the next morning the whole compound came alive, with people heading off to work and to school. Great-Aunt, accompanied by a nephew surnamed An (安), brought food and had breakfast with us: white-flour steamed buns, pork buns, nianzhou (a thick rice porridge carefully simmered), and huoshao (a hard flatbread baked over a low fire, as big as a noodle bowl).

I had never eaten nianzhou the Shandong way. It smelled wonderful and was smooth and soothing to eat.

There is a fine story about nianzhou. In those days the United Nations' International Refugee Organization gave a sum of money to the Qingdao city government to buy food for the poor. The city set up stations that served nianzhou every morning, and it was so well received that Jinan, Yantai, Weihai and other cities followed suit. (62)

That morning, curious about my new surroundings, I wandered alone into a big kitchen and found an old woman of about seventy making jianbing. She asked this little boy she had never met all sorts of questions with a beaming smile; she was a kind and friendly elder. As she cooked, she explained to me this staple food that Shandong people love.

She squatted beside the big stove with a large bucket of wheat batter and a big round iron griddle about 60 centimeters across with a rim 2 centimeters high, fired with wood. With great skill she spread a ladle of batter thinly over the griddle, and in about four or five seconds a fragrant jianbing was done. It was the first time I saw Shandong people roll scallions, sweet bean sauce and cucumber in a jianbing and eat it with great relish.

The next day, accompanied by Great-Aunt's nephew An, whom I called Uncle An, we went to the local police station to register our household. In those days Qingdao was the city with the best household registration system of all.

In the afternoon Great-Aunt and Uncle An took us to visit Uncle An's parents, who had been settled at the refugee center on Tianmen Road (today's Yan'an Road).

During the civil war, Uncle An and his parents had fled the Communist liberated area and come to Qingdao. After the victory over Japan, Shen Honglie (沈鴻烈), then chairman of the Shandong provincial government, opened this refugee center on about two acres of land, much like Tiu Keng Leng (Rennie's Mill) in Hong Kong. (63)

The residents of the Tianmen Road refugee camp came from Red Army liberated areas. Because of their Kuomintang backgrounds they had been targets of struggle sessions, carried out in the manner of the Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution.

Great-Aunt's brother Yin Dingwu (Yin Shiming, 尹世銘), the county magistrate-in-exile of Rizhao, often obtained funds from the provincial and city governments and came to the camp to look in on people from home. All ten great families of Rizhao County, the An, Ding, Mou, Yin, Fei, Bo, Cao, Pei, Ma and Wang, were represented here.

The camp had a self-governing council, a clinic, a post office and a primary school. The housing was crude and life was hard, but the people bore their poverty calmly, strove to better themselves and never lost their fighting spirit.

Before the war against Japan, Shen Honglie, then mayor of Qingdao and one of the founding fathers of the Republic of China, developed eight roads not far from the Huiquan Point bathing beach into a residential district. The roads were each named after a pass of the Great Wall, from Shanhaiguan Road at one end to Jiayuguan Road at the other, and the area was commonly called the "Eight Great Passes." It was full of trees and flowers, red roofs and green trees, under blue sky beside a blue-green sea, and the houses were European-style villas with gardens. By the 1980s the roads had grown to ten, and today the area is a district of tourist hotels and consular residences of many countries.

One Sunday morning Great-Aunt took us to the Eight Great Passes to call on my mother's Fifth Great-Uncle (Great-Aunt's fifth uncle), Mr. Yin Dongsheng (尹東生). He had studied in Germany as a young man and had served as administrative director of the Shandong Provincial Medical College and general affairs director of the School of Medicine of National Shandong University. His eldest son, Yin Shirui (尹世銳), my mother's Tenth Uncle, graduated in the ninth class of the bomber course of the Air Force Academy (in Kunming) and served as commander of the Air Force's 10th Group, commander of Songshan Air Base and commander of the 6th Wing. He married Ms. Zhou Renjing (周人鏡), a graduate of Beijing Normal University who served as principal of Pingtung Girls' High School, dean of student affairs at Taipei First Girls' High School and founder of Dacheng High School. (64)

At the Qingchang Compound there were a sister and brother surnamed Pei (裴), in the sixth and fourth grades, relatives of the Yin family and one generation senior to me. The two of them knew the area around Qingdao's Xiaogang harbor well. I was out of school at the time and looked forward every weekend to going out with them.

Xiaogang (the Small Harbor) was built in 1899 (year 25 of the Guangxu reign of the Qing) at Dabaodao in the southwest of Jiaozhou Bay. Fifteen kilometers to its north is Qingdao's Dagang (the Great Harbor, commonly called Qingdao Port), built in 1892 (year 18 of the Guangxu reign), with three piers at first. By the time of the Qingdao withdrawal in 1949 it had been expanded to fifteen piers. On May 11, 2017, Qingdao Port completed Asia's first fully automated, unmanned container terminal, the largest single terminal of its kind in the world. Among the world's top hundred ports by throughput, it ranks eighth.

The Qingchang Compound was only a ten-minute walk from Xiaogang. In those days anyone could walk in. The harbor had a fish auction hall and a fish market, and crowds streamed through without end. It could berth nearly a hundred fishing boats and two light passenger-cargo ships. One small passenger ship converted from an American-built landing ship, the Lichun (利春號), ran regularly between Qingdao and Shanghai.

The Pei sister and brother taught me to "fish" for kelp from the breakwater. You tied a grappling hook to a long rope and threw it hard toward the rocks about ten meters out, let the hook sink to the bottom, then gently pulled it back in, and there before your eyes were strands of glistening green fresh kelp. The joy of it was beyond words. We usually ate it as a cold dish with dried shrimp, dressed with sesame oil, soy sauce, vinegar, garlic and other seasonings.

Along Xiaogang First Road and Xiaogang Second Road were many fishing companies. I still remember a five-story building with five big black characters, each about a meter square, painted on its white side wall: "Central Trust of China" (中央信託局).

China has three great fish markets, Qingdao, Shenjiamen (in the Zhoushan Islands) and Haikou, and Qingdao's is the largest and best organized. It had good cold-storage facilities, covered 20,000 square meters and stood right next to the Xiaogang wharf. In the middle of the night the fishing boats came back and were busy unloading, and in the early morning the auction hall came alive. The auctioneers chanted under their breath in a kind of auction patter that ordinary people could not understand. Buyers and sellers each wore their own expressions: some were all smiles, and some even swore. (65)

While we lived at the Qingchang Compound, I often went with Great-Aunt and my mother to buy fish at the market. It wasn't really about doing the shopping; I went purely to enjoy the bustle, to watch the buying and selling in the market, and to learn to tell apart the many kinds of fish.

In this great hall, about 300 meters long and 40 meters wide, strolling and looking at every stall took at least two hours.

Red spotted sea bass, white hairtail, black-and-white striped grouper, blue damselfish, large yellow croaker from the Yellow Sea, tuna from the Pacific, sea turtles and turtle eggs: there was so much to see that it made my head spin.

What interested me most were the duixia, or "paired prawns," as long as chopsticks; a large one could weigh half a jin. They come from the Yellow Sea, mainly from the waters around Rizhao County. Their meat is firm, tender and delicious, better than lobster, a prized delicacy among seafood. They travel in pairs, which is how they got their name.

Qingdao has a fine place for fishing at the south end of Zhongshan Road, where a pier about 400 meters long stretches out into Qingdao Bay. A precise GPS survey in November 2012 found the causeway section to be 216 meters long and 8 meters wide, and the open trestle bridge at the south end to be 147.3 meters long and 11.5 meters wide, for a total length of 390.5 meters. It was first built in 1892 (year 18 of the Guangxu reign of the Qing). At its south end stands a round, palace-style pavilion, the Huilan Pavilion, a famous Qingdao landmark. A constant stream of anglers fished from the pier, and walking on it you could see ships plying back and forth across the bay in the distance. At the time I also saw two American warships anchored in the bay.

My eldest younger sister Tingru (亭如), the Pei sister and brother and I arranged to fish here for a whole afternoon, each with a rod, and we caught quite a lot. (66)

Qingdao's most distinctive feature is its many parks and green spaces; there are as many as eleven of a good size, the most famous being Zhongshan Park and Seaside Park.

Zhongshan Park, in Shinan District, was first built in 1901 during the German colonial period as an experimental station for forestry and plants, and opened to the public in 1912. When Japan occupied Qingdao in 1914, it named it Asahi Park (旭公園). When sovereignty over Qingdao returned to China in 1922, it was renamed First Park, and in 1929 it was renamed again as Zhongshan Park, the name it bears today. The park has an orchard section where peach, pear, apricot and apple trees bloom every March and April, and it is rich in trees, flowers and plants. It also houses China's first zoo and first all-season flower greenhouse. There is also a cherry blossom avenue 200 meters long that bursts into bloom in early April; it was already famous in the 1930s and still is. In the 2010s, Zhongshan Park received two million visitors a year.

Seaside Park was completed in 1931 southwest of Zhongshan Park, built along the shore for a full kilometer. To its east is the No. 1 Bathing Beach. It contains China's first aquarium (today the Qingdao Marine Science and Technology Museum), and with its pavilions, green pines, quiet paths, flowers and trees, blue sea and red rocks, it combines the beauty of a garden with the beauty of nature.

While in Qingdao I went there three times, once with my parents and twice on school outings. I still think of it often and hope to see it again someday. (67)

In the summer vacation of 1948, my uncle went with me to take a transfer exam, and I entered the third grade at the private Yuying Primary School in Qingdao. It was the fourth primary school I had attended in the three years since the victory over Japan, and I had not completed a single full school year. Only after I entered the fourth grade at Datong Elementary School in Miaoli Township in September 1950 (year 39 of the Republic), until I graduated from the Finance School in March 1962 (year 51 of the Republic), thirteen years in all, was I fortunate enough to finish my schooling smoothly in a stable setting.

Children of wartime were born at the wrong time and drifted from place to place. My uncle entered the first grade in 1937 and by 1948, twelve years later, had attended seven schools, studying on and off and skipping grades until he reached the first year of high school. That summer his cousin Yin Dehan (尹德涵), 22 years his senior, recommended him to the Chu-tung High School in Yangzhou, founded by General Ku Chu-tung (顧祝同), so he could finish high school.

Yin Dehan was then director of the headquarters office of Huang Baitao's (黃伯韜) 7th Army Group. During the Huaihai Campaign he was ordered to write down Huang Baitao's last testament. Disguised as a farmer, he fled by night to Nanjing with Yang Tingyan (楊廷宴), deputy commander of the 25th Corps, and presented it in person to President Chiang Kai-shek.

Not long after my uncle reached Chu-tung High School, he became a refugee student. Joining teachers and students from middle schools across eastern Shandong, and led by their principals, they marched like an army, begging along the way, through Jiangsu, Anhui and Jiangxi toward Guangdong. In early July 1949, to our surprise, we met my uncle in Zhanjiang. (68)

On November 2, 1948, my father flew from Shenyang via Peiping to Qingdao, and that same day word came that Shenyang had fallen. Two days later he reported to the 4th Section of the 50th Army headquarters as a major and signals staff officer.

A week later my father was assigned family quarters on Tieshan Road. We moved out of the Qingchang Compound, where we had lived for more than seven months, and Great-Aunt came to live with us too.

The quarters had been an abandoned building belonging to a cigarette company, though the factory was still making cigarettes at the time. The company was founded in 1919 and belonged to the British-American Tobacco Company; together with the cigarette factories of Shanghai and Tianjin it was known as "Shang-Qing-Tian" (from Shanghai, Qingdao and Tianjin; the phrase also means "up to the blue sky"). In 1976 the factory moved to No. 137 Zhuzhou Road. Eight families lived in the quarters. Our neighbor was a company commander surnamed Cao (曹), who had a son and a daughter, both in primary school, and we were soon playing together.

The cigarettes this factory made were called Da Qianmen. To boost sales, each pack contained a color card of one of the 108 heroes of the Water Margin (水滸傳), and a full set could be exchanged for a Philips bicycle.

On Tieshan Road there was a general store that also rented out picture-story books (comic books). Its dozen or so little stools were always full, and the Cao boy and I were regular customers. I still remember "Burning the Chained Ships" (火燒連環船), "Flooding Jinshan Temple" (水淹金山寺), "Su Wu Herding Sheep" (蘇武牧羊), "Tripitaka Fetches the Scriptures" (三藏取經) and others. (69)

Signal Hill Park is a famous Qingdao landmark in the center of Shinan District, 98 meters above sea level. During the German occupation a signal station was set up here to direct ships entering and leaving Jiaozhou Bay. The scenery is lovely, and from the heights you can gaze far out over Jiaozhou Bay.

Once my mother's cousin took us to Signal Hill, and there, of all things, we saw a peep-show (lāyángpiān) performance, a folk art, performed exactly like the one I had seen in Shenyang.

The old man pulled the rope, beat the drum and sang: "Hey, look closely, take your time and see: there's a young lady taking a bath. She's untied her skirt and taken off her jacket; such smooth fair skin and a fine figure. The young fellows can't sleep at night, but that's none of my business." Dong-dong-qiang, dong-dong-qiang, qi-bu-long-dong, qiang, qiang.

It showed to the full the wit of the Shandong people, their language that refined and common folk alike could enjoy, and their humorous, forthright character.

We also saw a big tent with twenty-odd long benches inside that could seat at least a hundred people. A missionary stood outside inviting passersby in to hear the gospel. On either side of the entrance were big red characters: "Jesus loves the world" and "Believe in Jesus and have eternal life." In those chaotic, unsettled times, quite a lot of people were looking for comfort for their souls.

My mother's cousin also taught us the yangge dance, a folk art from northern Shaanxi that was popular in the Communist Red Army's liberated areas. Two steps forward, one step back, twisting the waist and swinging the hips, a handkerchief in each hand, swaying from side to side: the steps had real flavor and plenty of punch. Who knows what genius came up with them.

The words of the yangge songs were even better, suited to the needs of the times. Sung in a rustic old Shandong style, they carried all the bold spirit of northerners. The melody was later worked into the movements of the "Yellow River Symphony" (黃河交響樂) performed by the Beijing Symphony Orchestra.

The words went: "Dada, niangniang, don't you worry, when I marry I'll go on my own. When the bridal sedan comes I won't ride in it; I'll dance the yangge and sing a song, sing a song." (Dada and niangniang mean Dad and Mom.)

Another went: "Twist and twist, twist and twist, I've twisted till I'm eighteen or nineteen. I don't know where my husband-to-be's family might be, so I'll just follow the Eighth Route Army, follow the Eighth Route Army." (70)

After coming to Qingdao, my father was even busier than he had been in Shenyang. The autumn winds of 1948 blew especially early. On the front of the 11th Pacification Zone, clashes between Nationalist and Communist forces never stopped, and my father lived in camp the whole time.

Still, my father always found time to come home and see us. Besides one trip to Zhongshan Park, we also made an outing to Laoshan with his colleagues and their families. Laoshan (勞山, also written 嶗山) lies 20 kilometers east of Qingdao and rises 1,130 meters above sea level. Its peaks are layered and magnificent, the scenery delightful, and peach, plum and flowering plum trees grow all over the mountain. Laoshan is a famous Taoist mountain in China, with eleven Taoist temples large and small, the most famous being the Shangqing Palace, the Taiping Palace and the White Cloud Cave. South of the Shangqing Palace is the Dragon Pool waterfall, magnificent whether seen from afar or up close.

Forty kilometers southeast of Laoshan in the Yellow Sea lies an island called Talian Island, which legend says the First Emperor of Qin believed to be Penglai, the island of the immortals. Transportation was difficult then, so we could not go, but today you can get there by tour boat.

My father loved Peking opera and had performed as an amateur. In those days Qingdao had a Yongle Theater, and when the famous actress Gu Zhengqiu (顧正秋) was performing there in residence, my father twice took Great-Aunt and my mother to hear her.

Gu Zhengqiu was born in Nanjing on October 5, 1929 (year 18 of the Republic), and died in Taipei on August 21, 2016 (year 105 of the Republic). Her real name was Gu Zuohua (顧祚華). A graduate of the Shanghai Drama School, she was only 20 at the time but already famous. She specialized in qingyi roles (virtuous young women), and "The Phoenix Returns to Its Nest" (鳯還巢), "Wang Zhaojun of Han" (漢明妃) and "The Third Wife Teaches Her Son" (三娘教子) were her box-office draws. In 1949 Gu Zhengqiu went to Taiwan, and to everyone's surprise a Yongle Grand Theater appeared in Taipei too, where she performed in residence.

Once my mother's cousin brought a dozen bottles of Tsingtao beer as a gift for Great-Aunt and invited everyone to try it. Tsingtao beer is famous at home and abroad. It is brewed and fermented from Laoshan spring water and top-grade barley, with a plant called hops, and leaves a lingering fragrance after drinking. When Qingdao was evacuated, Liu An-chi (劉安祺) took a batch to Taiwan, where it was stored at a Monopoly Bureau brewery and used to entertain foreign guests; some was still left at the time of the August 23 Artillery Battle (1958). (71)

From September 12, 1948, to January 31, 1949, the Communists launched their three great campaigns of "liberation," and the Nationalist army fell back in defeat after defeat. Changchun fell on October 18, 1948. On November 2, Shenyang and Yingkou fell to the Communists; the same day Liao Yaoxiang's (廖耀湘) 9th Army Group, sent to reinforce Jinzhou, was surrounded with its 100,000 troops. On November 6 the Nationalist army withdrew completely from the Northeast, and the Liaoshen Campaign was over.

On November 6 and November 29, 1948, within a single month, the Communist Second and Third Field Armies launched the Huaihai Campaign (called the Xuzhou–Bengbu Campaign in Taiwan) and the Pingjin Campaign (the Pingjin Battle), and the situation came to threaten Qingdao.

My father decided to send the families on ahead to Shanghai. In late December, on a bitterly cold afternoon, Great-Aunt and the family of Yin Dingwu (my great-uncle), nine people in all, boarded the steamer Jiangsu (江蘇輪) for Shanghai. Our extended family set out once again on the road of exile.

Before nightfall my father and my great-uncle said goodbye to their families, and their backs disappeared into the crowd. The big ship weighed anchor, sounded its whistle and slowly pulled away from the wharf, just as the city lights were coming on. As we set off for Shanghai, the road ahead was uncertain. (72)

Section 37: Back in Shanghai
With Very Different Feelings

In late March 1946 (year 35 of the Republic), as part of the return to peacetime after the war against Japan, my father was on his way to take up a new post in the Northeast, and he brought his family from Chongqing to the Northeast by way of Shanghai.

Shanghai after the victory was full of life: boats shuttled endlessly on the Huangpu River, the lights of the Bund were dazzling, and the enchanting Shanghai night was intoxicating.

After the "August 13" Battle of Shanghai in 1937 (year 26 of the Republic), Shanghai fell into Japanese hands. Yet, just as Paris under German occupation did not lose its international standing, Shanghai went on developing normally. When we came to Shanghai after Japan surrendered, our hearts were glad. When we met Shanghai again in December 1948 (year 37 of the Republic), our hearts were unbearably heavy.

Only two years and eight months had passed, yet, after the eight years of the War of Resistance, we had once again become homeless, wandering refugees, this time fleeing civil war.

The Mencius (孟子), one of the Four Books, says: "A state must first smite itself, and only then will others smite it." It means that a country first harms itself, and then outside forces exploit its weakness. I truly did not want to see China's fate repeat the same mistakes; it is the common people who suffer, driven from place to place with no home to return to.

The Shiliupu passenger wharf looked just as it had before. Yin Shutian (尹書田) and his wife and Ding Zhaochang (丁肇昌) and his wife came to meet us. The next day we went to the countryside at Zhenru, about 15 kilometers northwest of Shanghai, a place strange to us, and settled in there for the time being. (73)

My mother remembered it clearly: December 22, 1948, which was also the 22nd day of the eleventh lunar month and the winter solstice, the day with the longest night of the year. On that bitterly cold afternoon we boarded the Jiangsu, a ship sailing from Qingdao to Shanghai. Although we children wore padded cotton clothes, they could not keep out the wind on the wharf, and we shivered with cold.

The grown-ups carried an added weight on their minds. At that very moment my great-aunt's (my mother's aunt's) nephew, Yin Dehan (尹德涵), was on the battlefield of the Huaihai Campaign, and no one knew whether he was alive or dead. My great-uncle's (my mother's uncle's) daughter, Yin Dehan's younger brother, and my uncle (my mother's brother) were on the road as refugee students, and we had no news of them.

In the Zhenru countryside there was no electricity, so our little radio was useless. We had to walk 20 minutes to the small town to buy a newspaper and follow the fighting in the Pingjin Campaign and the Huaihai Campaign. Who knew whether the reports were true, or how safe Qingdao was?

As wives, aunts, mothers and sisters, the women carried one worry after another in their hearts, and the children kept crying, "I miss Daddy."

My great-uncle Yin Dingwu (尹鼎武) urged Yin Shutian to watch how the war went, prepare in advance for a withdrawal, and help the families go straight to Guangzhou or to Taiwan. By then Yin Shutian had already made preparations to move his textile factory in Shanghai to Taiwan. (74)

Our home in Zhenru was not far from a highway leading to Shanghai. Three rows of single-story houses formed a U, open to the south. A path led to a large vegetable garden, and farther south was a small river, its water murmuring and its banks shaded by willows. A wooden bridge joined the two banks, and on the far side lay a great bamboo grove: a true picture of the Jiangnan countryside south of the Yangtze spread before us. The little street in town was some distance away, and we seldom went there. The houses had no electricity, and we used well water. This was when Shanghai's gold yuan notes were losing value so fast that prices changed three times a day. Life became very hard, and we had to cut back on clothing and food and live frugally.

My mother's aunt, though she was the wife of a county magistrate, set aside her dignity and went to the bamboo grove with my mother every day to gather dead branches and fallen leaves to burn as firewood at home. I carried a bamboo basket on my back and collected the outer stalks and leaves of vegetables thrown away in the vegetable gardens, and we cooked them at home. The most fun was digging wild shepherd's purse on the hillside and bringing it home for my great-aunt to make dumplings. In all the decades since, I have never again come across dumplings filled with fresh shepherd's purse.

We lived in Zhenru for only a little over three months, and once again I was out of school. The greatest gain was listening to my great-aunt tell stories of our hometown, and of how she had been denounced at struggle meetings and paraded through the streets in the Communist "liberated areas". I never imagined they would all become the best material for the essays I wrote later. (75)

January 29, 1949 (year 38 of the Republic), the first day of the first lunar month of the year Jichou, was the Spring Festival, the Lunar New Year. Earlier, on January 10, the Huaihai Campaign had ended, and Huang Baitao (黃伯韜) and Qiu Qingquan (邱清泉) had died for their country. On January 14 Tianjin fell, and on the same day Mao Zedong presented the government with eight conditions, demanding that north and south be governed separately, with the Nationalists and Communists cooperating as equals in joint administration. On January 21, under the pressure of public opinion, Chiang Kai-shek stepped down, and Li Zongren became acting president.

By this point, gloom hung over North China. The Nationalist army was locked in bitter fighting, and the Communist forces had pushed south of the Huai River to the north bank of the Yangtze, and were busily drawing up plans to cross the river, take Nanjing and seize Shanghai. That year we spent the least peaceful New Year of our lives.

In March 1949 (year 38 of the Republic) the weather south of the Yangtze was still cold, and the air was thick with a sense of coming slaughter. The quiet of the highway near our home was broken: for days on end, troop trucks kept rolling in to mass on the outskirts of Shanghai. Tank treads ground over the gravel road with a creaking, crunching sound, like a pack of hungry, weary lions roaring at the sky. We realized there would be fighting in Shanghai.

One weekend afternoon we received a telegram signed jointly by my great-uncle and my father: "Leave Shanghai at once. Return to Qingdao quickly." Under the circumstances, and with Yin Shutian having already arranged for us to move south, there must have been some reason for this decision. (76)

After the 1949 Spring Festival, Yin Shutian began planning to move his factory south. After weighing many factors, he chose Taiwan from among three places: Hainan Island, Guangzhou and Taiwan.

But because of that one joint telegram from my great-uncle and my father, we could not go with Yin Shutian, and instead turned back to Qingdao.

On April 3, 1949, I stood on the deck of the Lichun and gazed at the Bund. As the slanting sun urged us on our way, Shanghai slowly disappeared from view. I said goodbye to the Zhenru countryside, a place that had seasoned me in life and left me deep memories.

In 1998, after I had emigrated from Panama to Los Angeles, I went to a photography exhibition looking back on Shanghai's history. Standing before a photograph of the Bund in 1949, I recalled leaving by ship down the Huangpu River all those years ago. Moved, I wrote a seven-character quatrain to express my feelings: "Over the Huangpu River, among the white clouds, / in sorrow I see the lonely city at the edge of the setting sun. / Why must the flute lament the willow? / In what year will the day of our reunion come?" (黃浦江上白雲間，愁見孤城落日邊。吹笛何須怨楊栁，重逄時日待何年。)

I always thought I would never return to Shanghai in this life, but the god of good fortune gave me the chance. In 2014, 65 years later, my younger son Anderson was posted to work in Shanghai, and within three years my wife and I went to Shanghai four times. (77)

Section 38: Tossed by Wind and Rain, We Leave Our Native Land

Early in the morning of April 4, 1949, the Lichun sailed into the waters off Qingdao. Ahead on the right, the lighthouse on Dagong Island flashed its strong beam on and off. Qingdao, we were together again.

My great-uncle, my father and my uncle (my mother's cousin) met us at the wharf. Before me was Qingdao's Little Harbor, which I knew so well. At the fish market nearby, people still came and went. The familiar streets, the familiar shops, the familiar surroundings all felt so dear.

The army had assigned our dependents' housing on Tieshan Road to other people, so we moved back into the Qingchang compound, where we had lived before.

The next day, with my mother's cousin accompanying me, I went back to register at Yuying Primary School. The school did not make difficulties over all the classes I had missed, and I went straight back into the second term of third grade.

We had lived in the Qingchang compound for less than a month when something came up with my father's superior, Director Zhai (翟), then head of the Operations Department of the 11th Pacification Zone. Because the situation was unstable, Director Zhai's wife's nephew was closing down his business in Qingdao, and just then Director Zhai's mother died, so the two of them went back to Hong Kong for the funeral. A Western-style house on Jiangsu Road had not yet been sold, and they hoped we would move into it for the time being. At the end of April we moved into the house. It stood on a small hillside, with 24 stone steps leading down to the road below. It had floor-to-ceiling windows and new furniture. Outside, flowers and trees grew in lush profusion, the view was lovely, and the whole of Huiquan Bay lay before our eyes. Before Director Zhai's leave was over, Qingdao was evacuated.

Director Zhai ran his command strictly and never indulged his subordinates, but he cared for them deeply. He thought very highly of my late father and was especially demanding of him. Once, in front of everyone, he threw a document my father had drafted onto the floor and told him to rewrite it, and this went back and forth at least three times. When my father compared his first draft with the corrected version, he saw that indeed not one word could be added or taken away. As a result, my father's drafting of official documents became one of the very best in the whole army. (78)

As luck would have it, my mother's cousin Yin Deshu (尹德淑), Yin Dehan's younger sister, lived in the customs staff housing on Jiangsu Road, just a stone's throw from our new home. I called her Eldest Aunt. Her husband, Uncle Ding Zhaochi (丁肇箎), worked for the Customs Administration of the Ministry of Finance. While we were in Zhenru near Shanghai, he had been transferred from Lanzhou to Qingdao.

Uncle Ding had two younger cousins: one was Ding Zhaochang, a doctor in Shanghai; the other was Samuel C. C. Ting (丁肇中) in America, who won the 1976 Nobel Prize in Physics. Eldest Aunt and Uncle Ding both had excellent English and had made many foreign friends.

Not long after we returned to Qingdao from Shanghai, a crowd stirred up by radical "professional students" surrounded an American army barracks near Tieshan Road and looted it bare in a single night. It started because several high school girls had been raped and violated by American soldiers. The agitators seized the chance to stir up once more the Shen Chong (沈崇) incident of December 1946 (year 35 of the Republic), involving a woman student of Peking University.

Soon afterward, a classmate of Eldest Aunt's who was married to an American serviceman in the US Seventh Fleet said a hurried goodbye to her over the telephone, and that very night left with her husband and his unit for Okinawa, Japan.

In April 1949, planes were taking off and landing constantly at Qingdao airport, and staff of government offices across North China were all moving to Qingdao. Every sign showed that Qingdao would soon be evacuated.

In November 1948 (year 37 of the Republic) the Liaoshen Campaign in the Northeast ended. Shenyang and Jinzhou fell one after the other on November 2 and 6, and three days later the People's Liberation Army held the whole of the Northeast. The civil war moved to North China, where the Pingjin Campaign and the Huaihai Campaign broke out at the same time. Facing this crisis, and to preserve its strength, the top leadership at once drew up a strategic plan to evacuate Qingdao. It was meticulous in content and precise in execution: besides 80,000 crack troops, the evacuation included nearly 20,000 experts and scholars in many fields, and its destination was Taiwan.

The Qingdao withdrawal is a glorious page in the military history of the armed forces of the Republic of China. World opinion described it as another successful strategic withdrawal, one that could stand comparison with the great evacuation of Dunkirk. (79)

On May 28, 1949, my father hurried home and told my mother to pack our clothes and sort out our papers, keeping everything light and simple, and to wait for the army's orders, ready to board a ship at any moment. Then he rushed back to his unit.

I never imagined that this day would be my last day of school at Yuying Primary School. The last class was music. The teacher's family name was Liu; I can no longer remember her given name. She came into the classroom looking grave. After calling the roll she did not begin the lesson right away, but asked how many of us were leaving Qingdao. Nearly a third of the 28 pupils raised their hands. She taught us to sing a world-famous song, "Thinking of Home" (念故鄉), taken from Dvořák's "New World Symphony" (新世紀交響樂).

As we sang, the teacher choked up with tears and could not go on. She told us about part of her life: during the eight-year War of Resistance against Japan, before the Japanese came to Qingdao, she said goodbye to her father and mother and went to the unoccupied interior, where she studied and worked at the same time until she finished university. When at long last the war was won and she came back to Qingdao, her father had died. "Now the situation is grim, and my mother is old and ill. I cannot leave home once again; I must stay to take care of my mother."

With so many things to weigh, the choice between going and staying troubled a great many families and individuals. An attending physician at the Municipal Puji Hospital thought the Communists would not do anything to him. A teacher at the maritime school said the Communists were no raging flood or savage beast, so what was there to fear? But most people with a Kuomintang (KMT) background had no choice but to leave. I sigh to think how we Chinese keep playing out this same tragedy of gathering and parting, over and over. When will it ever end?

Qin Guan (秦觀) wrote a ci poem grieving at parting: "Once gone, when shall we meet again? / On collar and sleeves, the stains of tears, in vain. / Where sorrow is deepest, I gaze back until the high city walls are lost from sight, / and the lamps are already lit at dusk." (此去何時見也，襟袖上，空染啼痕。傷情處，高城望斷，燈火已黃昏。)

Decades later, when Taiwan allowed people to visit their relatives on the mainland, scenes of such heartbreak and tears became all too common. (80)

My grandmother (mother's mother) had a grandnephew, Yu Jingchun (于景春), who withdrew to Taiwan with the army in 1949 together with his uncle. He was only 14 then and served in the army as a messenger. Through the armed forces' in-service supplementary education program he earned a high school qualification and passed the entrance exam for the Republic of China Military Academy. By the time he retired he had reached the rank of colonel, and he had a son and a daughter. Fifty years later, in 1999 (year 88 of the Republic), he went back to his hometown with his wife and children to see his family. His mother was by then ninety years old and blind in both eyes.

Yu Jingchun fell to his knees and nestled into his mother's arms. "Mother, I'm back," he said, then burst into loud sobs, and choked out, "I've brought your daughter-in-law and your grandchildren to see you."

The old mother's hands touched her son's face, trembling for a long time without stopping. "Good, good, it's good that you're back," she said. "Children, come, come, let me touch you."

That same day he walked to a hillside, and what he found there was his father's lonely grave.

Looking back on the sorrows of the past felt like remembering another life. He wrote these lines: "Fifty years, the living and the dead lost to each other in a boundless haze. / I cannot forget; I think of you always. / Father, Mother, Father, Mother, year after year my heart breaks. / A lonely grave a thousand li away; on the day I come home to visit, / on the hill of short pines, I tell of my grief." (五十年生死兩茫茫，不能忘，常思量。爹娘，爹娘，年年斷腸。千里孤墳，省親日，短松岡，話淒涼。) (81)

Section 39: A Decisive Battle Lifts the Army's Spirits

China has three great peninsulas: the Shandong Peninsula, the Liaodong Peninsula and the Leizhou Peninsula. In military defense, a peninsula is hard to attack and easy to hold. Qingdao lies on the south side of the Shandong Peninsula and is itself a peninsula within the peninsula, surrounded by sea on three sides, with mountains to the north, which gives it a geographic advantage.

Before the evacuation of Qingdao, Liu An-chi (劉安祺), commander of the 11th Pacification Zone, set up three lines of defense to resist the advance of the People's Liberation Army, slow the pace of the liberation of Qingdao, and win more time for the evacuation.

Not long after the 1949 Spring Festival, a battle that mattered greatly for the Qingdao withdrawal took place on the Chengyang defense line. The 808th Regiment of the 270th Division, which was supporting the defense there, fought a successful battle of annihilation.

Before the battle, intelligence showed that People's Liberation Army troops were massing again and again around Jimo. The assessment was that the Communist army would attack within days. The Nationalist army at once went on emergency alert, ready and waiting. Liu An-chi ordered Regiment Commander Huang of the "808 Devil Regiment", long known as the "Living King of Hell", to command this battle.

At dawn one day, just as expected, the People's Liberation Army moved onto its line of departure 1,000 meters in front of our positions. Commander Huang gave strict orders: no one was to act rashly, and no one was to open fire without his command.

The PLA advanced step by step to 900 meters, then 800 meters, and on into range at 500 meters, and still the Nationalist troops gave no sign. The enemy pushed forward to 400 meters, 300 meters, 200 meters, and still the Nationalists did not stir. The tension was suffocating.

When they came within 100 meters, the PLA troops began to charge. At Commander Huang's command, machine guns, mortars and hand grenades opened up all along the line, loudspeakers added to the din, and battle cries shook the sky. The attacking PLA force was wiped out in front of the lines; not a single soldier escaped.

Commanders at battalion level and above were invited to observe this battle. My late father, a signals staff officer in the Operations Department, was among the observers and witnessed how it unfolded. For months afterward the PLA made no rash moves and did not dare to cross the line. This created favorable conditions for the later Qingdao withdrawal. (82)

Section 40: A New Code Turns the Tables

One Friday in early February 1949, a day that happened to be the Beginning of Spring on the traditional calendar, Liu An-chi, commander of the 11th Pacification Zone, called unit commanders at regiment level and above, and other relevant personnel, to an enlarged military conference at the 50th Army headquarters at Xianjiazhai in Qingdao. The meeting was set for ten in the morning, and ten minutes beforehand all the participants and observers had arrived.

Fifteen minutes past the start time, Liu An-chi had still not appeared. Instead a phone call came: the commander's car had broken down, and the meeting was postponed for an hour. So everyone wandered around nearby, stretching their legs.

Who could have known that just then two artillery shells would come flying out of the sky and land right on the meeting place? Nine officers were wounded, some lightly, some seriously. Liu An-chi had escaped disaster.

When Liu An-chi hurried to the scene, he found it in a shambles. He immediately summoned my late father and asked him point-blank: "Staff Officer Chen, what the devil is going on? I nearly lost my life! How come the Communists know every move we make? Go on, tell me."

My late father answered: "There may be a Communist spy among us, and our signal code may have fallen into enemy hands."

Liu An-chi said: "I think so too. Can you change the code?"

He replied: "I can change it, but the code was issued by the Ministry of National Defense and is top secret. I can't change it on my own authority."

Liu An-chi flared up and swore: "To hell with it! Ministry of National Defense or no Ministry of National Defense, a general in the field need not obey every order from his ruler, understand? You change it for me, and hand it in by this time the day after tomorrow." With that, he swept off in a rage.

That day my late father worked through the night until dawn. Using his own method, he made key changes to the common characters, military expressions and unit designations. After checking it over and over until he was sure there were no problems, he handed it in on time.

Once it was approved, my late father, accompanied by a security officer, delivered the new code by special car to the commander of each unit. At the same time the whole army launched the Operation Lightning drill, and an order was issued that anyone who leaked secrets would be dealt with under wartime military law.

This revised code was never reported to the Ministry of National Defense. From the day it went into use until the Qingdao withdrawal, the People's Liberation Army was never able to break it. (83)

Section 41: The Refugee Students,
a Sad Tale

In August 1948 (year 37 of the Republic), Yin Wukui (尹無愧), a junior high student at the Rizhao Temporary Middle School in Qingdao (she was my mother's cousin, the eldest daughter of my great-uncle Yin Dingwu), said goodbye to her parents and transferred to Zhutong Middle School in Yangzhou, where her two older cousins were in senior high.

Then, unexpectedly, the Huaihai Campaign broke out. Zhutong Middle School and seven middle schools from Shandong, Anhui and Jiangsu were hastily combined into the "Eight Allied Middle Schools", and they began moving to escape the fighting. The eight schools passed through Jinan, Xuzhou, Bengbu and other places, joining together along the way until they all met up in Nanjing.

This column of more than 2,000 teachers and students made a long trek of over 2,000 kilometers through six provinces: Shandong, Anhui, Jiangsu, Jiangxi, Fujian and Guangdong. They endured every kind of hardship and walked hard and dangerous roads, and in the end their flight brought them to Penghu, and then on to Taiwan.

The journey was carefully planned beforehand, and all the advance work and logistical support was carried out on the principle of thrift. The principals and staff of each school led their students, older students helped younger ones, and everyone looked after one another along the way.

It was as if time had turned back to the great migration of schools during the War of Resistance against Japan: once again refugee students ate in the wind and slept in the open, and the history of wandering and hardship repeated itself. (84)

Though the student column was organized in haste, it was strictly disciplined. Each school sent people to form a liaison team responsible for advance work, arranging support from local governments, offices, schools and army units along the route. A logistics team was also formed to handle provisions, transport, and medical care.

The student body was divided into four detachments, and each team and detachment carried pistols and rifles for necessary defense. Each detachment did its own cooking and pitched and struck its own camps. Their route of flight went around two of the Chinese Communists' eight great liberated areas in North China: Huaibei and Subei (northern Jiangsu).

The combined column set out from Nanjing and followed the old Nanjing–Jiangxi Railway (now a branch of the Beijing–Kowloon high-speed line), along the east bank of the Yangtze River into Anhui. By the time it reached Wuhu, it was January 6, 1949 (year 38 of the Republic), the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month of the year Wuzi and the solar term of Minor Cold. Four days later, on January 10, the Huaihai Campaign ended.

After the long trek, the column camped at National Anhui University (now Anhui Normal University), rested for a day, and then continued on its way. (85)

On January 8 the students left Wuhu. It had been two full months since they set out, far behind schedule. Though the road was safe, they faced a food crisis. The only way was to buy food locally and spend sparingly: coarse grains, sweet potatoes, taro, tofu, cabbage and radishes, anything that would fill an empty stomach.

The column kept to the east bank of the Yangtze, heading southwest through Tongling and Guichi (now Chizhou) into Jiangxi. They expected to reach Jiujiang on January 20.

Toward dusk on January 17 they passed a small village called Xiangkou. The county town of Pengze, their destination, was still some way off, so they had to make camp and go on the next day.

A sudden downpour came at the worst possible time. Water got into the tents, and everyone was soaked to the skin. It was cold, they were hungry, and there was no way to set up the pots and cook.

The urgent need was to drive off the cold, get warm, and fill their stomachs. Out in the wilds there was no wood to make a fire, let alone any hope of a cup of brown sugar and ginger tea to ward off a cold.

They had to find some way, so they went out to look. My two uncles, Yin Dezi (尹德滋) and Yin Dehao (尹德浩), walked toward the little village with several classmates. There was no room for pride: they knocked on door after door, explained to the village women who they were, and begged for some leftover rice and scraps.

The villagers were very kind. They filled the students' lunch boxes by the bowlful and the plateful, and there was brown sugar and ginger too. On the way back the students gathered dead branches and bits of wood in the woods and returned to the tents. That night everyone ate a supper full of mixed feelings: some wolfed it down, while others' tears fell into their bowls. (86)

On January 20 the students entered Jiangxi province and reached Jiujiang, where they were to stay for two days. The boys camped on the big sports field of a middle school and the girls in its auditorium.

On the second evening, to ease the fatigue of the past days, they held a moonlight party.

An older student played on his harmonica "Song of Longing for Home" (思鄉曲), a song from the War of Resistance with music by Xia Zhiqiu (夏之秋) and words by Ren Tiandao (任天道). His skillful playing and the moving melody tugged at everyone's heartstrings. Following the harmonica, they all sang softly: "The moon hangs high in the sky, its bright light shining all around. In this quiet, deep night, I remember my home."

Sobs came from some of the girls; they were all homesick. Aunt Wukui (my uncle's cousin) cried out loud and said to my uncle, "Third Brother, I want to go home. I miss Dad and Mom."

Like Uncle Dehao, she was pale, running a high fever and coughing nonstop. Clearly they had both caught a chill in the downpour a few days before.

That night Aunt Wukui's and Uncle Dehao's fevers would not come down, and they were rushed to the hospital. The doctor said they had to be admitted.

The next day the student column went on, but my uncle stayed behind to look after them. It was five days before they recovered and left the hospital, and the three of them had no choice but to drop out of the refugee march. They caught a ride to Jinan and went on from there to Qingdao.

The column reached Nanchang on January 28, the day before New Year's Eve of the year Wuzi. (87)

On January 28, 1949, the day before New Year's Eve of the year Wuzi, the first group of the column reached Nanchang and camped in Lakeside Park. On New Year's Eve the second group moved into Zhongshan Park (now Bayi Square). The two places were separated by Anshi Road (now Bayi Avenue), built in 1928 (year 17 of the Republic).

On New Year's Eve the students all gathered in Zhongshan Park and saw in the New Year around a campfire, in high spirits, eating boiled dumplings.

At the New Year's Eve dinner, Principal Zhang Minzhi (張敏之) inspired the students with talks on "the leap of faith" and "the trials of life." Another principal, Zou Jian (鄒鑑), encouraged them with the words of Mencius: "When Heaven is about to confer a great office on someone, it first tests his mind with suffering, toils his sinews and bones, starves his body, leaves him destitute, and confounds all that he undertakes, so as to stir his mind, toughen his nature, and make up for what he lacks." (天降大任於斯人也，必先苦其心志，勞其筋骨，餓其體膚，空乏其身，行弗亂其所為，所以動心忍性，增益其所不能。)

On January 31 the refugee student column was reorganized into two detachments. One went south along the Gan River, through Gan County (now Ganzhou), over the Meiling Pass into Guangdong, and through Qujiang to Guangzhou, and later took a ship to Taiwan.

The other took the train to Yingtan, followed the Yingtan–Xiamen railway into Fujian to Xiamen, and went by way of Kinmen to Penghu. (88)

Section 42: Across the Sea
to Taiwan

In late May 1949, a huge fleet of 15 merchant ships belonging to the China Merchants Steam Navigation Company sailed into Jiaozhou Bay under orders and tied up at the various piers of Qingdao's Great Harbor to await instructions.

Toward evening on May 31, an army truck stopped in front of our house. My mother took us children and, together with my eldest aunt's husband and his family of three and my uncle, whom we had arranged to meet in advance, we got on and drove straight to the wharf. The truck stopped beside the Haisu, and we waited to board.

That night the ship and the wharf were ablaze with light and heavily guarded. Troops, supplies, military families and civilians boarded in good order, one group after another. A squad of army cooks came aboard with baskets on shoulder poles, along with their pots, bowls, ladles and basins.

We were settled on a big ten-wheel truck, and we lived on that truck for the whole voyage. Once we were settled, my father hurried off the ship and went back to the Operations Department at headquarters.

My great-uncle Yin Dingwu, the county magistrate of Rizhao, once a commander of anti-Japanese guerrillas and now a colonel and deputy brigade commander of the Independent Brigade of the 32nd Army, boarded the Hainiu with his hometown soldiers and his family. (89)

On Wednesday, June 1, 1949, we spent the Dragon Boat Festival on board. My great-uncle's mother-in-law, old Mrs. Lü, brought us zongzi rice dumplings, jianbing pancakes, steamed buns and tea eggs, and we enjoyed the richest meal of the whole voyage.

On Friday, June 3, after sunset, the order was given, and the great Qingdao withdrawal, the most brilliant in the history of the Chinese Civil War, began. The last infantry brigade and a radio station fought as they withdrew. The ship that picked them up was the Hainiu, which was also the last ship carrying Nationalist troops to leave Qingdao harbor. Two hours before this, the fleet had already sailed out into the waters off Qingdao. Two destroyers at sea covered the ground troops as they withdrew and boarded. At that time the Chinese Communists had nothing that could be called a navy able to fight.

This fleet carried nearly 80,000 crack troops and more than 10,000 leading figures from every field. It sailed 833 nautical miles (1,543 kilometers) at a speed of 25 kilometers an hour, and after 62 hours in all it reached Keelung harbor. (90)

The fleet sailed steadily across the boundless Yellow Sea, the ships keeping a set distance from one another. Unlike on land, the troops had no room to move about and stayed more or less still; only the signals and political work departments were still busy.

The headquarters' first-level units were on the Haisu, which served as the fleet's command center; its radio station kept in touch around the clock with the navy escort vessels and with each ship. Political officers went from hold to hold, lecturing on modern Chinese history and the history of how the Chinese Communists usurped the country, and teaching army songs.

The fleet left the Yellow Sea and entered the East China Sea; we were halfway there. As the fleet passed the Zhoushan Islands, seagulls followed in our wake. At that time Nationalist troops still held the Zhoushan Islands.

In the moonlight the stars seemed especially bright, and the scattered lights of distant fishing boats looked like a golden dragon swimming across the sea.

The galley served three meals a day, and every meal was fermented tofu, peanuts, dried radish and small dried fish. We had to fill our stomachs, so there was no other choice. On the ship I tasted canned Taiwanese pineapple for the first time.

I asked my eldest aunt's husband what Taiwan produced. He answered: "Oh, all sorts of things: bananas, sugarcane, rice, pineapples, watermelons, more than you can count."

And what fun places were there in Taiwan? "Alishan, Sun Moon Lake, Guanziling, Bitan, Yangmingshan, more than I could ever tell you."

During the War of Resistance against Japan, my primary school textbook had the lines "Taiwan sugar, sparkling bright, sweet in the mouth, painful in the heart." (台灣糖，亮晶晶，甜在嘴裡，痛在心。) That was my first rough impression of Taiwan.

In the 1950s there was a Taitung folk tune, "Taiwan Is Good" (台灣好), with words by Luo Jialun (羅家倫), first sung by Zhang Qi (張琪); in the 1980s (the Republic's seventies) Teresa Teng (鄧麗君) brought out its charm. The tune is light and lilting, and the words reflect the Treasure Island of Taiwan in those days. Comparing it with Taiwan today stirs a thousand feelings: "I love my Taiwan compatriots, let me sing a Taiwan tune. The coastline is long, the mountains are high, every harbor is strategic; highways reach in every direction, railways run north and south; the farthest outpost on the Pacific, Taiwan is called the Treasure Island. Penglai rice gives rich harvests in all four seasons, the villages are full of laughter; sugar and tea sell well, every household eats its fill; pineapples, watermelons and bananas, more local specialties than you can count; whether you live here long or have just arrived, everyone sings its praises together. Alishan's peaks rise into the clouds, a great bridge was built at Xiluo, the Wulai waterfall is a hundred feet high, boating on Bitan has its own romance; this is wonderful and that is fine, but what is most to be proud of? It is still the warmth between people, thick as glue, all of one heart." (91)

After nearly 60 hours at sea, at dawn on June 6 the sun rose from the horizon. The fleet entered the waters around Pengjia Islet, still two hours' sail from Keelung harbor.

By now the decks, the rails, the bow and the stern were all crowded with people.

Heping Island came into view; past Heping Island lay Keelung harbor. The ships slowed and eased into the harbor in a light drizzle. The harbor was ringed by hills, a natural stronghold, the green hills lush and the scenery lovely. Its wharves were as well built as Qingdao's.

The troops went ashore first, and dozens of big army trucks took turns carrying them to their camps. Our family checked into a hotel across from the railway station.

That evening a group of us went out together to find a restaurant, treat ourselves to a Keelung seafood feast, see Keelung by night, and shake off the weariness of the past days.

When we stepped out of the hotel, we saw that every passerby wore wooden clogs, which went clip-clop as they walked, just like the sound of horses strolling, crisp and pleasant to the ear. We wandered to a restaurant nearby and stopped at its door. Huge neon characters flashed, and the sign read "Willing to Come Wine House" (情願來酒家). Everyone burst out laughing, and Uncle Ding said, "What a good name, what a good name."

It was a two-story shop building and did not look like a place to eat. Uncle Ding asked the young waiter standing at the door, "Can we get a meal here?" "Yes, yes, we have food and we have drinks. Come in, come in. Up the stairs on your right is the Willing to Come Wine House."

As we climbed the stairs, Uncle Ding joked, "May I ask where the wine house is? The lad points to Willing to Come" (借問酒家何處去，小夥手指情願來), and we all roared with laughter. It turned out that in Taiwan a "wine house" was a place of pleasure where drinks were served. Since we had come, we might as well stay. We were only there to eat, and besides, we had our families with us, so the wives had nothing to worry about.

Upstairs, a middle-aged woman came over. Seeing women and children among our group, she found it odd and asked, "Sir, have you come to eat?" My father answered, "Yes, we've come just to eat."

We were seated at a big round table by the window, from which we could see the harbor at night.

We asked the proprietress to tell us what was special about Taiwanese food, and she served us some house specialty seafood and seasonal dishes. To our surprise, four fashionably dressed young women in high-slit qipao, with refined manners, came to wait on us, and they looked after us in every possible way. Under the circumstances, my father tipped each of them a Yuan Shikai silver dollar. They were delighted and kept saying, "Thank you, thank you, come again."

It was late at night when we got back to the hotel. Outside we heard a bamboo flute: a blind man doing massage to earn enough to live on. We also heard a street vendor calling out as he went along the street selling hot pork zongzi. (92)

Walking the streets of Keelung, we saw that the roads were named after the virtues Loyalty, Filial Piety, Benevolence, Love, Trust, Righteousness, Harmony and Peace, each paired with a number: for example, Zhong 1st Road, Xiao 3rd Road, Ren 5th Road, Ai 6th Road. That made it much easier to find one's way.

In the days of Japanese rule, Keelung had the hardest street names to remember of anywhere in Taiwan. Older Keelung residents who had lived there for 20 years still could not remember them or tell which street led to which. After Taiwan's retrocession to China, the government changed them, and those names are still used today. One of them, Ai 8th Road, caused controversy because it sounded like "Love the Eighth Route Army" [the Communist army], and the road has since been renamed Liu Mingchuan Road.

Liu Mingchuan (劉銘傳, 1836–1896) was born in Hefei, Anhui. He was a famous general of the Huai Army and governor of Taiwan, and one of the leading figures of the Self-Strengthening Movement. While governor, in 1887 (the 13th year of the Guangxu reign), he built China's first railway intended mainly for passengers, with its first section running from Keelung to Taipei.

We stayed in Keelung for about ten days and took the chance to visit sights near Taipei, such as Bitan, Wulai and Yangmingshan. After the troops had been reorganized and resupplied, in mid-June we sailed with the army on the same ship to the city of Zhanjiang, northeast of the Leizhou Peninsula in Guangdong province. My uncle came with us, while Uncle Ding's family stayed in Taiwan, where he went to work at the Inspectorate General of Customs. My great-uncle's family also went with his troops, who were posted to defend Hainan Island. (93)

Section 43: Coconut Palms Swaying in the South

Early on the morning of June 16, 1949 (year 38 of the Republic), we boarded the Haisu again and lived on the same truck as before. Without Uncle Ding's family there was much more room, and all around us were the same familiar faces and familiar surroundings.

The ship weighed anchor, sounded its whistle, and slowly left Keelung harbor. Keelung, we will meet again.

Our destination was Zhanjiang on Guangzhouwan, a voyage of 660 nautical miles (1,222 kilometers). We arrived after two days and two nights. The trip was smooth all the way; we met none of the strong winds and big waves common in the South China Sea.

The ship passed the waters off Penghu, so close that the fishermen at work seemed within arm's reach. Penghu is made up of 64 islands, large and small. It is the throat of the Taiwan Strait, a commanding position of great strategic importance.

The ship sailed past Dongyin, Matsu, Wuqiu and Kinmen, left the strait, and entered the South China Sea.

On the South China Sea the daytime sun blazed, the setting sun at dusk glowed red, and at night the stars and moon vied in brilliance. Under a blue sky on a jade-green sea, a gentle breeze blew, seagulls and white clouds kept the ship company, and the moonlit nights of the southern sea were enchanting.

My uncle loved the violin and played it very well. He went to the ship's rail and, gazing at the sea, the stars and the moon, played "Song of India" (印度之歌) by the Russian composer Rimsky-Korsakov (1844–1908). The Chinese words to the tune say: "In that faraway southern land, endless treasures lie hidden deep in the sea; mermaids live there, and birds fly and dance. In the depths of the blue sea, among the shining, splendid islands, moving songs are sung without end; listen to those sweet, lovely songs, deep in the blue sea and blue sky." (94)

Urged on by some music lovers, my uncle then played "The Stars Were Shining" (星光閃耀) by Puccini (1858–1924, Italian composer): "The stars were shining, the earth was fragrant, the garden gate creaked, footsteps brushed lightly over the sand; she came, bringing waves of delicate fragrance, and fell into my arms. Sweet kisses, tender love; trembling, I drew back the veils that hid her lovely form."

It was dawn when the whistle of our ship entering port woke us from our sleep. A sky full of stars still clung to the blue heavens. Ahead on the left, dots of light were strung together; from afar they looked like a string of twinkling pearls, or like a Milky Way across the sky.

The seaside avenue ran parallel to the shipping channel. In the faint light, the coconut palms along the avenue swayed and danced in the sea breeze. The sun slowly rose from the trees ahead on the right. Zhanjiang in the early morning wore a thin veil, waking in the light morning mist.

Zhanjiang was formerly called Guangzhouwan. In 1883 (the ninth year of the Guangxu reign of the Qing dynasty), after the Sino-French War, China suffered diplomatic setbacks, and France forcibly leased Guangzhouwan for 99 years.

Sixty-two years later, in 1945, the war against Japan was won, and the Republic of China recovered Guangzhouwan and renamed it Zhanjiang. (95)

In the years when the Republic of China governed the mainland, Zhanjiang was divided into two parts, Xiying and Dongying, rather like Puxi and Pudong in Shanghai. Xiying was the urban district and Dongying the farming district, and the two were clearly different.

Zhanjiang's port was first class in those days: the waters inside the harbor were wide, deep and calm, up to 20 meters deep. But its wharf facilities were inadequate, and ships of over 10,000 tons could not dock; they had to anchor in the bay, and passengers and cargo were ferried ashore by lighters.

The troops, vehicles and equipment were carried to Dongying by navy supply boats, while the families went with the headquarters' first-level units and were placed in Xiying. We stayed for the time being in a hotel on the seaside avenue, waiting for the army to assign family quarters.

Today the city of Zhanjiang covers 1.32 square kilometers and has a population of 7.54 million (2018). It is the only tropical seaside city on the Chinese mainland. After the Communists came to power, Dongying became Zhanjiang's Potou District in 1983, bordering Wuchuan to the east, Zhanjiang Bay to the west and the South China Sea to the south. On November 29, 1984, the Communist State Council approved the founding of the Zhanjiang Economic and Technological Development Zone, one of 14 development zones on China's coast. The old farming district has been transformed into an industrial park. Today Zhanjiang is also one of China's ten largest container ports, as well as an important naval port and the headquarters of the South Sea Fleet. (96)

By late June, summer had already come to Zhanjiang, and the sun blazed down. Before our lighter even reached shore, we saw a group of little children, stark naked, splashing and chasing each other on the beach and in the shallow water. People in the streets dressed simply, and every young woman wore a thick braid that hung down to her hips.

We checked into a hotel near the big clock tower, the city's landmark. Guests came and went constantly, and all we heard was Cantonese. Who would have guessed that I would later learn my Cantonese from someone from Zhanjiang: my wife, Wu Xiulian (吳秀蓮).

After washing up, the family went out to walk the streets and eat. At the front desk my father changed some money into small coins. One silver dollar (with a sailing junk design) could be exchanged for 100 copper coins, 20 to a small paper roll. When we opened one, we were quite surprised: they were Qing dynasty coins. There were Daoguang Tongbao coins minted in Guangxi province, Guangxu Tongbao coins minted in Yunnan province, and Xuantong Tongbao coins minted in Jiangxi province.

"Is this some mistake? What era is this, that people still use money like this?" The clerk at the desk laughed and said, "It's a good idea the provincial finance department came up with. These last two years prices have soared, changing three times a day, and paper money has become waste paper. It was driving everyone to jump off buildings. Letting the old copper coins circulate legally keeps their value and lets people enjoy a bit of the past too."

We walked south along the seaside avenue. French-style buildings stood out against the blue sky and green sea. The scenery was so lovely and peaceful that we felt we were in some seaside city in Europe.

Walking on to the southwest, we strolled up to a cinema showing Yu Suqiu (于素秋) in "The Lady Knight of the Wild River" (荒江女俠). We were drawn to the fruit and snack stalls in front of the theater; each had a gas lamp blazing with light. There was pineapple peeled on the spot and sold by the piece, and coconut water, and lychees, longans, sugar apples, grilled sausages and crispy fried snails, more than the eye could take in. (97)

In a picture-story book I had read the tale of Yang Yuhuan (楊玉環), the beloved consort of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, who loved lychees, and of how riders were sent on express horses, relay station after relay station, all the way from Lingnan in the far south to carry fresh lychees to Chang'an. Before that I had never seen what a lychee looked like; in Zhanjiang I finally saw one for real.

Du Mu (杜牧) wrote a poem describing how lychees were sent to Chang'an in those days: "Looking back at Chang'an, the hills are heaped like embroidery; / on the summit, a thousand gates open one after another. / A lone rider in a cloud of red dust, and the consort smiles; / no one knows it is the lychees arriving." (長安迴首繡成堆，山頂千門次第開。一騎紅麈妃子笑，無人知是荔枝來。) That the ruler of a nation would order men to carry lychees three thousand li every day from where they grew to the capital, just because a consort loved them, was the height of absurdity.

Su Shi (蘇軾), the Northern Song poet, was imprisoned because of his writings and poems and banished to Lingnan, where he tasted the delicious lychee. In his poem "Lament of the Lychee" (荔枝嘆) he used the past to criticize the present: "Every ten li a relay post, dust and ash flying; / every five li a watch mound, soldiers driven on like fire. / Men fell into pits and tumbled into gullies, lying piled on one another; / all knew the lychees and longans were coming. / Carts flew over mountains, falcon-swift boats crossed the sea, / so the windblown branches and dewy leaves looked freshly picked. / A beauty in the palace breaks into a smile; / the startled dust and spattered blood flow on for a thousand years." (十里一置飛麈灰，五里一堠兵火催。顛坑仆谷相枕藉，知是荔枝龍眼來。飛車跨山鶻橫海，風枝露葉如新採。宮中美人一破顏，驚麈濺血流千載。) Since the poem mentions longans, we can infer that Consort Yang liked longans too. The longan, also called guiyuan, grows on a tree much like the lychee's; both are medium-sized evergreen trees of the soapberry family that grow only in subtropical regions. Guangdong, Fujian and Taiwan all produce them in abundance.

Zhanjiang kept the flavor left from its French colonial days, especially in its eating habits. People in Zhanjiang loved French cooking, coffee and afternoon tea. Snail dishes were a delicacy on the table too, and the people of Zhanjiang knew even better than the French how to eat snails.

At the stalls in front of the theater you could also eat snails fried crisp in hot oil, and the way of eating them was cleverer than the French way: with a bamboo pick you drew out the snail meat, removed the black part at the tail end, and dipped it in a little fish sauce. It was refreshing and chewy, and utterly delicious.

Zhanjiang is also known for its jellyfish skin, made from a jellyfish, a kind of coelenterate. Dressed with shredded ginger, vinegar and sesame oil, it is very tasty, a cold seafood dish fit for a banquet table.

The jellyfish, known formally as haizhe, is shaped like a little umbrella and is transparent; when it swims it seems to be performing an underwater ballet. It releases a small amount of venom to catch little fish and shrimp to eat, and it drifts to the shore with the tide. If it stings you, your skin becomes painful, red and swollen.

Once my younger sister and brother and I were playing in the water at the beach with some local children. Suddenly the local children all ran up onto the shore; a swarm of jellyfish was coming. We were a step too slow and got stung, howling with pain.

Although we stayed in Xiying for only ten short days, it left us with deep and happy memories.

Then the headquarters' first-level units moved to Dongying, and our family, along with my uncle, went to Dongying too. (98)

Section 44: A Quaint Old Town, Far from the Bustle

In 1945 (year 34 of the Republic), the government of the Republic of China recovered Guangzhouwan, France withdrew completely, and the place was renamed Zhanjiang. In those days, travel between the two shores of Zhanjiang Bay depended on sailboats. Xiying and Dongying each had a pier. In the morning the wind blew from the southwest and in the afternoon from the northeast, so the sailboats went from Xiying to Dongying in the morning and from Dongying to Xiying in the afternoon.

The sailboats ran with the wind on a diagonal course, so the piers on the two shores were also laid out on a diagonal. Under the azure sky, on the jade-green sea, the sails chased the waves, and Dongying's beaches and coconut groves came clearly into view, carrying everyone's mood into a state of peace.

The Dongying pier of those days could berth only five small and medium wooden boats, two of which were army transport boats. From the pier to the little town there was just one two-way gravel road, a 40-minute trip. The road ran right along the coast, lined on both sides with coconut palms and other palms. Through the gaps in the trees you could look out over the bay, where fishing boats, sailboats and steamers came and went. East of the road were orchards of lychees, longans, pineapples and sugar apples, filling the air with the scent of fruit.

A younger schoolmate of my father's, Guang Huimin (廣惠民), found us a house in Dongying town. It turned out to be upstairs in the small building at the bus terminal, a French-style brick building. In front of the station was a parking lot, and inside were a waiting room and a ticket window.

The little building had windows on three sides, plenty of sunshine and fresh air. Ahead on the left was a flat terrace surrounded by trees, joined to the road by a path; it was where the weekly market was held.

To the right of the building stood two huge longan trees whose fruit grew right up to the second floor. The longans were large and sweet and juicy, with small pits and thick flesh, and they hung by the right side of our veranda, close enough to pick by just reaching out.

There was a primary school near the station, and from home we could hear the children reading aloud. I often went over to the school and even made a friend there. To my surprise, the school used exactly the same textbooks as Yuying Primary School in Qingdao, but the teachers taught in Cantonese. (99)

As the saying goes, "When the woods are deep, the birds come of themselves." Even in broad daylight, the songs of all kinds of birds came from the woods near our home. At night we heard dogs barking in a village not far away, and at dawn the roosters crowed to greet the day. All this brought a little liveliness to the quiet countryside. Tao Yuanming (陶淵明) wrote in one of his pastoral poems, "I built my hut among the homes of men, yet hear no noise of carts and horses" (結廬在人境，而無車馬喧), and that describes it exactly.

Going to market was part of life for the people of this little southern town. At the market you could see the warmth between people, the gentle rhythm and orderly pace of life, and the simple, honest ways of the local folk.

Every Sunday before daybreak, people came from all the villages to the market ground, carrying loads on shoulder poles, riding bicycles, pushing carts, or driving cattle and goats. Each had a stall of their own: some set up shelves, some spread their goods on the ground, and some tied their cattle and goats under the trees. The stalls stood in neat rows, as many as ten of them. And so the day's trading began.

There was no haggling here, and big Qing dynasty copper coins changed hands. Melons and fruit, vegetables, eggs, fish and shrimp were all sold by the heap. Chickens, ducks and geese were priced by the bird; for big animals like cattle and goats there was room to bargain. Toothbrushes and toothpaste, towels and soap, pots, bowls, ladles and basins, kitchen knives and scissors: everything was there. There were even barbers who carried their gear on shoulder poles and gave haircuts on the spot. People came and went in a bustling throng, as if at a carnival.

The town had a small street of homes and shops about 200 meters long and 10 meters wide. It was paved with red brick and lined with two-story buildings in Ming and Qing style, with black tiles and gray walls, full of old-world charm. Carved wooden signboards were written from right to left in various styles of calligraphy. There were also cloth shop banners like so many flags, bearing characters such as "Wine", "Tea", "Rice" and "Pawn". Along the street were teahouses, wine houses, general stores, barbershops, Chinese and Western pharmacies, and also a small post office and a police station. (100)

Once I went for a haircut. The shop had only two reclining chairs, and it was scorching hot with no electric fan to cool us, but the owner had a solution. He hired a boy to work a big square fan woven from bamboo leaves, fixed to a wooden beam with screws and springs. A thick rope hung from one end of the fan; as the boy pulled and let go, the fan swung back and forth, whooshing up a breeze, and it really was cool.

Around noon one day in late July, the cicadas' song carried far from the woods. We were enjoying the gentle breeze and listening to the endless "zhi-liao, zhi-liao" of the cicadas, and the red sun, shining through the trees, looked especially brilliant. My father received notice and told us to pack our bags: within two or three days we would board a ship for Guangzhou.

A poem by Cao Zhi (曹植) describes it this way: "A traveler roaming far, far away, / more than a thousand li from home. / Going out, there is nowhere to go; / coming in, there is nowhere to stay. / Drifting clouds veil the sunlight, / and a mournful wind rises from the earth." (悠悠遠行客，去家千餘里。出亦無所之，入亦無所止。浮雲翳日光，悲風動地起。) We followed my father, and followed the army, drifting from one stop to the next, living like duckweed on the water, like a tired bird that can find no safe place to rest. My father was a soldier whose sacred duty was to obey, and we were a soldier's family. In such times and circumstances, it seemed we could not decide our own fate but could only keep moving forward. Isn't that exactly what Cao Zhi's poem portrays?

On July 31, 1949, we boarded the Kaohsiung, a ship of the Taiwan Shipping and Transport Company, and left Zhanjiang for Guangzhou. (101)

As the saying goes, there is no story without coincidence, and lucky chances do happen in this world. Once, when we went to Xiying to shop and stopped at a teahouse for tea and dim sum, my uncle happened to run into Dong Yuming (董毓明), a good classmate of his from Zhutong Middle School, together with Dong's older sister Dong Yufen (董毓芬) and her husband, Mr. Liu.

Dong Yuming had been a refugee student like my uncle; after they parted in Jiangxi, he went to Hong Kong. His brother-in-law, Mr. Liu, had a trading firm in Hong Kong that did business with Vietnam and had a branch in Zhanjiang. Dong Yuming was in charge of the Vietnam business and was looking to take on more staff. So my uncle got a good job in Zhanjiang and did not travel on with us.

Ever since April 5, 1948, the day we flew from Shenyang to Qingdao, we had lived as drifting wanderers. In 16 months we had gone from the Northeast to North China, then on to Central and South China. We had sailed across the Bohai Sea, the Yellow Sea, the East China Sea and the South China Sea, covering almost the whole 18,000 kilometers of the mainland's coastline. Our next stop was Guangzhou, and where we would go after that, we had no idea at all. (102)

Section 45: The Pearl River Bund and Lizhiwan

The watch bell rang on the Kaohsiung as the ship passed through the Wanshan Islands. Past the mouth of Lingding Bay, the Pearl River estuary came into view. As we neared the Humen forts, we saw many small islands and reefs scattered inside and out.

Humen, with its commanding terrain, is Guangzhou's natural shield. Past Humen the ship slowed, and in about an hour it reached the port of Huangpu (Whampoa).

Huangpu was a small town outside the Guangzhou metropolitan area (today part of Huangpu District, Guangzhou). In 1924 (year 13 of the Republic), the Whampoa Military Academy was founded here.

When we docked, army vehicles were already waiting on the pier. The military families boarded in turn and were driven through the city straight to the Baizi Building in Guangzhou.

The Baizi Building was a four-story building covering about 70,000 square feet. At the time it served as housing and a warehouse for several Guangzhou banks. The army rented it and turned it into a barracks, with part of it set aside as family quarters; barriers separated the barracks from the family quarters.

The Baizi Building stood in what is today Meihua Village on Zhongshan 1st Road. Not far away was the residence of Chen Jitang (陳濟棠), a four-story Western-style house with a garden, covering 5,610 square meters; in 1993 it was listed as a protected cultural heritage site of Guangzhou.

Guangzhou is the largest city in South China, with a population of 15.3 million and an area of 7,434 square kilometers, 27 times the size of Taipei. Since 2016 it has been listed every year among GaWC's world cities; in 2018 it was rated an Alpha-level, first-tier world city, and in 2020 it ranked 34th in the world at that level. In mainland China it ranks behind only Beijing, Shanghai and Shenzhen.

The Pearl River, China's third-largest river, flows past Bai'etan (White Goose Pool) on the west side of Guangzhou, splits into a southern and a northern branch within the city, and rejoins at the small town of Yuzhu before flowing out to sea.

Guangzhou has many temples. In the southwest of the city are the Five Rams Shrine and Suishi Cave. Legend has it that in ancient times five immortals came riding rams of five colors to the area near Suishi Cave and rested in a temple there. The temple has five stones, said to be the five rams turned to stone. That is why Guangzhou is called "Sui" (穗) for short, and is also known as the City of Five Rams. (103)

The family quarters faced a main road. Across the road stood two big banyan trees, and under them was a general store. Besides everyday goods and dry foods, it sold snacks such as rice noodle rolls, wonton noodles and shaomai dumplings, tastier even than those in Zhanjiang.

The store sat at the foot of a small hill covered with wildflowers and mimosa, set off by clumps of purple morning glories, a lovely sight. Paddies and ponds were laid out against the hill, and in the ponds grew water spinach with white flowers. Along the paddy ridges there were little crabs, small fish and shrimp.

Newly arrived in Guangzhou, we found everything fresh and new. On our first weekend, my father took us along the Pearl River Bund to see this glittering metropolis, its streets busy with traffic and bustle.

The Haizhu Bridge, the city's landmark in those days, spans the Pearl River. The original bridge was blown up by the Nationalist army in October 1949, when Guangzhou was abandoned. Today's Haizhu Bridge has been repaired and rebuilt, and Guangzhou now has as many as ten bridges across the river.

After dark, neon lights were reflected in the ripples of the Pearl River. Houseboats and pleasure boats floated on the river, and fishing families lived on their boats. On summer nights, with an evening breeze blowing and a bright moon overhead, we listened to the fishermen's evening songs, and it felt like being on the Qinhuai River in Nanjing.

Along the Pearl River Bund, restaurants and teahouses stood row upon row. The most famous of them then was the Hongmian (Red Kapok) Restaurant, always crowded, whether for grand banquets or a few dishes and a drink. Its fine food proved that the saying "for eating, go to Guangzhou" was well deserved.

In the west of the city is a lake called Lizhiwan (Lychee Bay), now renamed Lychee Lake Park. Its waters sparkle and its misty waves drift gently, and lychee trees line both banks, giving green shade. When the lychees ripen in midsummer, visitors vie to pick and buy them, a delightful scene. Toward evening, a fresh breeze stirs and the setting sun lights up the clouds; painted boats weave across the lake, boatwomen pulling the oars and visitors rowing along, the boatwomen and visitors singing back and forth to each other, as if on West Lake in Hangzhou. (104)

Huanghuagang (Yellow Flower Mound) lies at Baiyun Mountain in Guangzhou's northern suburbs (today's Huanghuagang Park). It is the resting place of the Seventy-two Martyrs of the Guangzhou Uprising of 1911, the third year of the Xuantong reign of the Qing. The tomb is built of marble and surrounded by shady green trees, grand and imposing, and it fills one with reverence. There are many temples on Baiyun Mountain, with morning bells and evening drums and curling incense smoke. When the plum blossoms are in full bloom, flower viewers fill the paths. I visited twice in those days, and it left a deep impression on me.

Lin Juemin (林覺民) was one of the Seventy-two Martyrs. Before he calmly went to his death, he left two pieces, "Letter of Farewell to My Wife" (與妻訣別書) and "On Love" (原愛), which move readers to the depths of their hearts. It is just as the lines say: "A heart full of hot blood and a thousand lines of tears, a noble spirit that fills the heavens. The martyrs gave their lives for their country; jade-green blood and yellow flowers honor their loyal souls." (一腔熱血千行涙，浩然正氣塞蒼冥。烈士為國捐身軀，碧血黃花灑忠魂。) Today both the Nationalist and Communist parties view the 1911 Guangzhou Uprising positively, and the Chinese Communist Party has always honored Dr. Sun Yat-sen (孫中山) as the forerunner of the revolution.

In the Guangzhou of those days, men and women, young and old, everywhere in the streets and lanes, mostly wore black shirts and trousers. The cloth was smooth and glossy, deep black and shiny, cool against the skin, easy to wash and needing no ironing. This fabric was xiangyunsha ("fragrant cloud gauze"), a specialty of Shunde, Guangdong.

Xiangyunsha comes from a perennial herb whose coarse, stiff stems and leaves can be used to thatch roofs; its proper name is shuliang (dye yam). Juice boiled from its roots can dye silk gauze, which is called "shuliang silk", or "kaosha", or "xiangyunsha".

In 2002, at an international fashion festival in Beijing, xiangyunsha, carefully designed by fashion designers and shown by models, became a sensation in China and abroad overnight. (105)

Section 46: Bitter Wind and Dreary Rain Sweep Away the Last Clouds

In June 1949, a crack Nationalist force of the 11th Pacification Zone withdrew from Qingdao to Guangdong, with Guangzhou as its command center. Less than two months later, a division stationed at Guangzhouwan was urgently moved to Guangzhou to meet strategic needs, and its defense duties there were taken over by troops of the Guangdong clique.

Judging from how Nationalist forces were deployed at the time, the four southwestern provinces of Sichuan, Guangxi, Yunnan and Guizhou, Gansu in the northwest, the coastal islands of Zhejiang and Fujian, and Hainan Island and the island groups of the South China Sea were all under Nationalist control, so there was still a chance to fight back. "Until hope reaches the point of despair, never give up hope." We firmly believed the day would come when the government's armies would march north and retake the Central Plains.

Meanwhile, on June 15, the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party convened the Political Consultative Conference in Beijing, actively preparing for the founding of the People's Republic of China. On August 5, the United States issued its white paper "United States Relations with China" (美國與中國的關係), stating its position on the Republic of China. It was very damaging to the Nationalist army; the situation was perilous, like a house shaken by wind and rain.

Facing this rapid turn of events, Liu An-chi's (劉安祺) troops in Guangzhou, well disciplined and well trained, were undaunted by the danger. They stood united, met the enemy calmly, and worked well with the Guangdong and Guangxi armies. There was no large-scale contact with the People's Liberation Army, but small skirmishes never stopped. In the family quarters of the Baizi Building, we could hear the troops in the barracks singing army songs at evening roll call every night. This unit was the 808th Regiment of the 270th Division, whose commander was known as the "Living King of Hell". (106)

A military conference in late September settled on a crucial battle plan: with a strengthened Guangzhou garrison as its base, we would join the Guangdong and Guangxi armies to wipe out the units of the PLA Second Field Army in northern Guangdong. Later, for many reasons, it turned into the first battle between the Nationalists and the Communists after the founding of the People's Republic of China: the Battle of Yangjiang.

After October 1, the army and the public in the City of Rams behaved in completely different ways. On one side, the army was reorganizing and stepping up its preparations for battle; on the other, there was singing and dancing and a life of luxury and pleasure. The glittering city was ablaze with lights and flowing with drink, teahouses and gold shops did a roaring trade, and Hong Kong dollars and US dollars changed hands freely. Every showing at the theaters and cinemas was packed. They were showing "The Flower Princess" (帝女花), "Plum Blossoms Bloom Twice" (二度梅), "Bathing Beauty" (出水芙蓉), "Casablanca" (北非諜影), "Blood-Stained Begonia" (血染海棠紅) and "Love and Hate in the Daliang Mountains" (大涼山恩仇記). Lively scenes were everywhere. People no longer cared whether the Nationalists or the Communists were in power.

"Old Chen, will you sell the radio transceivers?" Major Li (李), the ordnance officer in charge of weapons and ammunition, asked my father. My father was astonished: "What did you say? Did I hear you right?"

"I said, will you sell the radio transceivers? Ten bars a set (one bar being ten taels of gold)." My father was getting angry: "I won't do anything illegal."

"Old Chen, look at the times we're in. Can our army keep fighting?" "If we don't sell them, we get nothing for them. Sooner or later all this stuff will belong to the Liberation Army anyway." It was truly heartbreaking. When times grow desperate, a man like that shows his true face.

Intelligence officer He Zhiqi (何治齊) said to my father: "Brother Qi'er (其二), the Communists have already fought their way to within 100 kilometers of Guangzhou. Hurry and send your wife and children away."

His words brought my father up short, busy as he was rushing in and out.

The strategy from the military conference half a month earlier, to lure the enemy into a trap, had not worked out. The Guangdong and Guangxi armies each looked after their own turf and held their troops back, giving Liu An-chi's forces no support at all. So the front line shrank, the Liberation Army reached the city gates, and Guangzhou could fall at any moment. (107)

On the afternoon of October 12, 1949 (year 38 of the Republic), my father was hurrying up and down the riverside avenue along the Pearl River. Almost in despair, he spotted a notice board in front of a shipping company: "Tomorrow (October 13), passenger ship to Zhanjiang. Inquire within."

Overjoyed, he bought tickets and rushed back to the Baizi Building. The whole family set off at once: we packed some clothes and light luggage and hurried by car to the pier.

Before we left home, Mom gave Dad a cotton waistband she had sewn earlier, with two gold ingots of two taels each sewn inside. My father said he wouldn't need it, but Mom insisted he take it, saying: "With war and chaos all around, you may need it."

My father stuffed the waistband into his trouser pocket. The pier was packed with crowds, and we boarded a small ship of only 1,000 tons displacement.

All along the way, Guangzhou was still bright with the lights of ten thousand homes, its neon dazzling, a scene of busy traffic, singing and dancing. People did not realize that the Communists were about to enter the city.

My father said goodbye to each of us in turn. We felt a strong pang of parting as his figure disappeared into the crowd. When my mother spoke of this later, she quoted Bai Juyi's (白居易) poem "Parting at the South Bank" (南浦別) to describe how she felt: "A sad parting at the South Bank, the west wind softly stirring the autumn. Each look breaks my heart anew; go well, and do not look back." (南浦淒淒別，西風裊裊秋。一看腸一斷，好去莫回頭。) (108)

Section 47: Leaving Guangzhou in the Moaning West Wind

That night on the ship, my mother did not sleep at all. Again and again she leafed through a little notebook my father had given her. In it were the telephone number of my uncle (my mother's brother) in Zhanjiang, the address of my great-uncle (my mother's uncle) on Hainan Island, and how to reach relatives and friends in Taiwan. It was as if only in its pages could she find safety and comfort for the fear in her heart.

On October 13, the first light of dawn chased away the early-morning moonlight. Looking east toward the Haizhu Bridge, we saw it shot through with sunlight, its reflection rippling on the sparkling water. The little ship weighed anchor and moved slowly southeast down the Pearl River. A white-haired old man leaned on the rail and sighed: "Boundless are these rivers and mountains; parting is easy, meeting again is hard." (江山無限，別時容易見時難)

Everyone on the little ship was tense, worried whether it could get safely out of the Pearl River estuary, for word was that the Liberation Army was about to enter the city. All the uncertainty filled people with fear. My mother was pale and haggard and said not a word.

As the sky darkened, the little ship passed Whampoa and then the Humen fortress. Peaks and cliffs rose on both banks, and echoes filled the valleys. Lamps were already lit in homes on the hills, and a row of fishing boats blazed with light, just like a golden dragon on the sea. A slanting moon hung high in the sky as the rolling river rushed toward the sea. The land was full of sorrow, the flowing water unfeeling, and the little ship sped toward the vast South China Sea. (109)

Section 48: A Beaten Army by the Mo River

After saying goodbye to us, my father went straight back to our home in the family quarters, packed some clothes and hurried to his office. It was nearly midnight. Headquarters had already ordered an emergency withdrawal. All that night until dawn, the telephones never stopped ringing, and my father never went back to our home again.

At about eight on the morning of the 13th, more than ten army vehicles of various types were lined up on the parade ground. Everyone, in full combat marching gear, boarded in order. My father rode in one vehicle with colleagues from the operations office, on the highway southwest toward Foshan.

This was the movement of a large force: an army group had to retreat more than 400 kilometers west to Zhanjiang in a short time, and it was bound to run into foreseeable trouble on the way. Although careful sand-table exercises had been run in advance, it was still a formidable task.

Two well-equipped regiments, a mobile brigade, an engineer battalion and a signal company had set out eight hours earlier. The headquarters officers, men and families had all left Guangzhou by about ten in the morning. At noon, an engineer company blew up the Haizhu Bridge and withdrew as the rear guard.

The advance units pushed from Jiujiang through Heshan toward Yangjiang. The going was hard: every bridge, large and small, had been destroyed, and the advance slowed. The engineers wore themselves out repairing roads and building bridges. By noon on the 13th, the troops had only reached the area around Kaiping.

A radio company met my father on the Jiujiang highway, and he switched to a radio communications truck. Followed by two medium jeeps, it formed the signals command center for the operation and advanced with the troops.

The worst thing for a large force on the move is to stall. None of the heavy vehicles of this crack mechanized force could cross the makeshift bridges, so they had to be abandoned and burned along the way, and the troops could only push on by forced march. The families, also forced to walk, could not keep up and fell 30 kilometers behind, guarded by an infantry company. The signals command truck met the same fate and was left by the roadside. My father, leading a few officers and men and a mobile radio station, was ordered to travel with the commander. (110)

By the evening of the 13th, the vanguard had passed Enping and was marching on Yangjiang. The rest of the troops only made their slow way past Enping early the next morning (the 14th), and the families were still 30 kilometers outside Enping. The column now stretched more than 80 kilometers, which gave the enemy a golden opportunity.

Fast-moving PLA units from the Yangchun and Kaiping directions broke the Nationalist column apart section by section, and massed heavy forces by the Mo River west of Yangjiang to stop the Nationalist vanguard from crossing. By then the whole army was out of control. Saddest of all were the families, who fled in all directions, their fate unknown. At this point, at noon on October 14, the Liberation Army entered Guangzhou.

The two armies fought fiercely for 18 hours, and the Nationalists suffered heavy casualties. The Liberation Army swept the battlefield, and countless Nationalist officers and men were captured. Only one regiment broke out; the rest never got across the Mo River. In Nationalist military history this is called the Battle of Yangjiang.

Commander Liu An-chi, for his part, fled toward the Yangjiang coast with a few officers and NCOs, including operations staff officer Zhang Guoying (張國英), engineer battalion commander Ni Shiying (倪世英), signals staff officer Chen Qi'er (陳其二), intelligence officer He Zhiqi, radio station chief Fu Xingzhong (傅興中), a radio operator, and a soldier to crank the generator.

Yangjiang harbor is ringed by mountains on three sides and opens to the sea on the fourth. Commander Liu had run right out of his shoes. He squatted barefoot on the beach, staring blankly, in a sorry state. Fortunately, two NCOs who knew a little Cantonese had already commandeered a small fishing boat, which was waiting by the shore.

Liu An-chi cried out urgently, "Zha ban (what do we do), Staff Officer Chen, zha ban?" My late father answered, "I've been trying to make contact the whole time. I judge there should be navy ships patrolling nearby."

By now it was about ten at night, under a waning moon. The waves pounded the rocks, throwing up spray with a rushing sound. (111)

From a distant hilltop a powerful loudspeaker called out: "Liu An-chi, you are surrounded. You can't escape. Lay down your arms and surrender now."

Then it played an army song. Liu An-chi, who seemed somewhat dazed, said: "What's going on? Is our unit holding evening roll call?"

Zhang Guoying answered, "It's the Eighth Route Army playing the 'March of the Volunteers' (義勇軍進行曲)." Liu An-chi was a little surprised: "What? The Communists sing this song too?"

The scene had all the bleakness of Xiang Yu (項羽) trapped at Gaixia.

When Staff Officer Chen called out "Got them!", everyone cheered. A navy warship was waiting off Yangjiang, and they hurried into the little boat.

For safety and speed, and to avoid overloading the boat and capsizing, Staff Officer Chen, Intelligence Officer He and Station Chief Fu stayed behind.

Zhang Guoying tossed back the words "We'll come right back for you." The three of them waited anxiously on the shore, watching until their eyes ached, but the little boat never came back. Liu An-chi escaped. The pursuing Liberation Army troops arrived, and my late father smashed the box of spare vacuum tubes for the radio transceiver that he had with him and became a prisoner of the Liberation Army. (112)

Section 49: The Moon in the Pond, Thinking of Wife and Children

A squad of eight or nine fully armed Liberation Army soldiers ran down the slope behind them to the shore. The three Nationalist officers gave themselves up without the slightest resistance. With their rank insignia removed, they followed the squad to a village, where they were gathered in front of a grain-drying yard with more than a hundred other prisoners, many of them familiar faces.

A Liberation Army company commander told everyone to sit on the ground. Then an officer taught them a song called "The Sky of the Liberated Areas" (解放區的天空), one line at a time for them to repeat. Someone asked, "Is there any sheet music?" The answer: "Never mind sheet music. Just sing after me."

That afternoon there was a string of lectures, and everyone was required to give an account of himself. After supper, to make them easier to control and to prevent escapes, all of them were driven into a big pond, waist-deep in water, to wait to be sent to the rear the next day.

It was already the end of the eighth lunar month, and the Cold Dew solar term had passed. In Yangjiang, near the sea in western Guangdong, a night under the waning moon carried a chill.

Standing in the pond, my father saw the moon reflected in the water. Thinking of his unknown fate, he could not help trembling. At that moment he thought of the little ship his wife and children had boarded a few days before. Had it left Guangzhou safely? Had it reached Zhanjiang in peace? Would something go wrong on the vast sea? The more he thought, the more afraid he grew. It was not merely bleak; it was tragic.

In my father's notebook he later recalled it this way: "The moon in the water of the pond; I think of my wife and long for my children. The little ship on this same night, sighing on the boundless sea." (池潢水中月，思妻又念兒。小船當此夜，滄海嘆息時。) The lines express deeply how my father felt then. It was late at night on October 15, 1949, and the little ship was just off Zhanjiang harbor. (113)

"Old Chen, run!" A low voice brushed past my father's ear, but he didn't react. Then it said it again, and only then did he understand what was happening.

"Run where?" "Just follow me." Intelligence Officer He's prompting snapped my father awake. "All right, let's go."

With a leap, one after the other, they sprang out of the pond. Making full use of the terrain and cover, they quickly hid in a small thicket, without alerting the guards or their fellow soldiers.

"What next?" my father asked. "Go to Yangjiang town and buy boat tickets!" "With what money?" Old He answered, "Feel your waistband." My father suddenly understood: he meant the two gold ingots my mother had given him the evening he said goodbye to his wife and children, which she had sewn into a waistband with her own hands.

Before dawn they reached a private house in Yangjiang town. Old He, a Guangdong native, knew the way like an old horse; he had often traveled on duty around Kaiping, Enping and Yangjiang gathering intelligence.

The two changed into civilian clothes, ate breakfast and went straight to a shipping company in Yangjiang town. The two gold ingots bought two tickets on a boat leaving for Hong Kong that morning, and they reached Hong Kong before nightfall.

With help from his former superior, Director Zhai (翟), a retired major general, they entered Hong Kong without trouble. Two days later my father went on to Hainan Island and found his wife and children, and Intelligence Officer He went to Taiwan. (114)

Section 50: A Lone Small Boat
On the South China Sea

Hard to believe, but on the little ship we boarded before Guangzhou fell, our berth turned out to be at the stern, on the roof of a sheet-iron cabin. It was fenced on four sides by an iron railing one foot high and sloped at fifteen degrees; in a storm with high waves, we would surely have rolled into the sea.

As luck would have it, one of my father's former subordinates, Xu Zhanwu (徐占武), the mess squad leader in the adjutant's office of the 54th Division, had also been given a place on this sheet-iron roof. Squad Leader Xu had an uncle doing business in Zhanjiang and was hurrying there to stay with him. My father was very glad that a strong young man could help us with things along the way.

On the evening of October 13, the little ship put out to sea near Macau and headed into the South China Sea. That night the sky over the South China Sea twinkled with stars, a crescent moon hung high, and the sea wind blew in our faces, its chill pressing in on us as we slept on the iron roof.

My mother opened the wooden trunk, took out the only two woolen blankets we had and laid them over our thin quilts. Squad Leader Xu's quilt became our mattress, while he wrapped himself in an army blanket. At last we were warm, but we still could not sleep. Instead we gazed up at the stars and listened to the wind whistling past.

The moment dawn rose from the horizon behind the stern, we were amazed by the beauty of sea and sky meeting in one line. The deck grew noisy. The ship followed the coastline, past Sanjia Bay and across Beihai Bay, to Yangjiang at the mouth of the Mo River, where it dropped anchor one nautical mile offshore for a short stop. Small barges ferried passengers ashore to shop, and Squad Leader Xu went ashore too.

The blazing sun beat straight down on our heads like an oven, making us dizzy. With enormous effort I helped my mother prop up a bedsheet to block the fierce sunlight.

Under the deep blue sky, with the golden land and the wide waters of the Mo River, Yangjiang town was wrapped in autumn colors, and the distant mountains were reflected in the sea, as lovely as a painting, endlessly varied. My mother had no heart for any of it; all her thoughts were on my father's safety, and sorrow and loneliness showed on her pale face. This time of drifting was burned deep into her heart.

I wrote a seven-character quatrain about that scene: "A heavy lone boat crosses passes and mountains, sorrowful by the south bank of the Mo River. White clouds drift slowly away, one by one; off the Yangjiang shore, the cold is more than I can bear." (沉沉孤舟渡關山，戚戚漠江南岸邊。朵朵白雲去悠悠，陽江浦外不勝寒。) (115)

A barge came in from the distance, and the shoppers climbed aboard with bags large and small, but there was no sign of Squad Leader Xu. The Jieyang, as the ship was called, was about to weigh anchor. Had something happened to Squad Leader Xu? We grew anxious.

Ten minutes before the ship sailed, an open sampan drew near with Squad Leader Xu standing in it. He scrambled aboard, swaying, his face bright red, dead drunk and babbling. His leather shoes were gone, and he was carrying a bamboo basket, in a sorry state. When he saw Mom, he said in his hoarse Sichuan accent, "Ma'am, ma'am, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

In the basket there were only two boxes of mooncakes, and none of the fruit we so badly wanted. The Mid-Autumn Festival had been over for ten days; how could mooncakes still be on sale?

With all of us seasick, the greasy mooncakes were really hard to swallow. To fill my stomach I forced down a few bites, but my sister Damei (大妹) could not get it down and kept grumbling. Squad Leader Xu spoke up: "Damei won't eat it, Xiaomei (小妹) won't eat it, and little brother won't eat it either. Better to toss it in the sea to feed the fish."

Before long I threw up the mooncake I had eaten. Clearly it was spoiled. Luckily I was all right, and my mother showed no sign of blame.

The ship got under way, heading into the setting sun toward the waters off Zhanjiang, and the two boxes of mooncakes went into the sea.

The ship sailed close to the coast. The distant mountains were faintly visible, and the far shore looked like gathered mist, with a hazy charm. Fishing boats out at work were clearly visible. The sun slowly sank into the sea, and the Jieyang sailed the South China Sea by night once more. (116)

The little ship sailed on in the moonlight. Not far off a whale appeared, several dolphins leapt and played alongside the ship, and seagulls skimmed over our heads. We shook Mom awake to see these wonders of the sea, and for the first time in many days we saw a trace of joy on her face.

Typhoons often rage over the South China Sea in October, but luckily we passed a peaceful night on a sea under the autumn moon and countless stars. Remembering that time, I described it this way: "Sea and sky in one line, a night of stars and moon; whales and dolphins sail along beside our boat. Gulls chase white clouds and break the bleak stillness; lying back, I search the sky's ladder for the Big Dipper." (海天一線星月夜，鯨豚伴舟齊航行。鷗逐白雲破蕭索，臥尋天梯北斗星。)

From Yangjiang to Zhanjiang is 140 nautical miles (260 kilometers), yet the ship took nearly 20 hours. On the way it anchored off Bohe harbor in Dianbai for six hours of engine repairs. It was midday, the ship lay still, and the blazing sun pierced the sheet we used for shade; the heat was suffocating. There was not a drop left in our water bottle. One by one we climbed down from the roof, found a shady spot and waited out those unbearably hot hours. Once the ship was repaired it went on, and by the time it reached the waters outside Zhanjiang harbor, it was the middle of the night on the 15th.

The ship stopped at the entrance to Guangzhouwan. A navy patrol boat came up to the Jieyang and called over to us: Zhanjiang was now under curfew, and the ship was ordered to go elsewhere at once. The ship was instantly in an uproar, and everyone was gripped by panic.

The Guangdong clique troops of the Nationalist army were at that moment fighting the Communist Fourth Field Army as it attacked the city. Three days later, on the 18th, the Reds entered Zhanjiang.

Where would the ship go? The future was unknowable, a complete blank. But what came to my mother's mind at once was my uncle's safety. (117)

Section 51: Under Moon and Stars
Past Leizhou to Qiongzhou

Before long the captain announced that the ship would head for Haikou and expected to arrive early the next morning. We did not know the situation on Hainan Island; besides, the ship's fuel would only last as far as Haikou. We hoped to arrive safely.

That night the little ship went south over the continental shelf along the east coast of the Leizhou Peninsula and crossed the Qiongzhou Strait toward Haikou. My mother's spirits hit bottom: the vast sea held danger at every step. Recording those past days fills me with sighs, and I wrote a seven-character quatrain: "Under moon and stars we crossed to Qiongzhou, Cangwu and Dan'er out in the South China Sea. A lone life adrift, I sighed at the road's end; with grief in my heart I cried out long, and wind came from the sky." (戴月披星過瓊州，蒼梧儋耳南海中。孤生茫茫嗟途窮，懷幽長嘯天來風。)

Haikou harbor was then a second-class port in China. Silt had built up in it, so it was really just a large fishing harbor. Again the Jieyang could not dock, and passengers had to land by barge. At about nine in the morning we reached the pier, and buses took the passengers into the city center.

We got off across the street from a main bus station and moved our luggage under the stone pillars of a shop's arcade. We watched the luggage while my mother and Squad Leader Xu went to the station to buy tickets to the small town of Dongshan, and they brought back some food to fill our stomachs.

Dongshan town, 50 kilometers south of Haikou, was where the Independent Brigade of the 32nd Army was stationed. My great-uncle was the brigade's deputy commander, a colonel, and Mom was taking us to seek shelter with him.

Its tropical monsoon climate makes Hainan Island like summer all year round. In Haikou, two- and three-story brick shop buildings stood row upon row, their arcaded sidewalks a distinctive feature. The streets were lined with shady coconut palms and lush green grass, hibiscus was in full bloom, and the air was fresh. Roadside snack stalls and fruit stands were doing brisk business, and the Cantonese dim sum and tropical fruits made our mouths water. Newly arrived, we found that Hainan made a fine first impression. (118)

At about three in the afternoon we boarded one of only two buses a day to Dongshan. Tickets were sold in advance, and since my mother had come a little late, she could only get three seats in the back, enough to squeeze in four people. Squad Leader Xu and I rode on the roof with the luggage, along with a middle-aged couple.

The bus bumped and jolted along the yellow dirt road, raising trails of dust behind it. In the distance were green trees and villages, with ox carts still traveling the village paths. The rice, which yields three crops a year, swayed in the wind in golden waves of grain, another kind of tropical countryside scene.

Toward dusk we reached the small town of Dongshan and hired a big wooden cart. Damei, Xiaomei, my little brother and the luggage all went on it. Following the address, the driver led us along country lanes to the front of a large compound. We checked the house number: yes, this was the place. Breathing fast, my mother hurriedly pounded on the big gate, and the man who appeared before us was my great-uncle himself. My mother burst into loud sobs, and all the countless grievances she had held inside poured out in an instant.

On October 15, all of Zhanjiang was put under curfew, and all land and water transport was cut off. My uncle and Dong Yuxiu (董毓秀) and her younger brother Dong Yuming (董毓明) persuaded a regiment commander to make an exception for them and got a ride to Hai'an town in Xuwen County, at the southern tip of the Leizhou Peninsula. There they hired a fishing boat, crossed the strait south to Haikou and found us. Before long the Dong sister and brother went to Hong Kong.

A few days later, my father too came by ship from Hong Kong to Hainan Island and was reunited with us. He was posted to the staff office of the 32nd Army as a supernumerary officer with the rank of lieutenant colonel. Xu Zhanwu was also found a cooking job in the Independent Brigade. (119)

Section 52: Musing on the Past
Traveling Qiongzhou

In 1097 (the fourth year of the Shaosheng reign of Emperor Zhezong of the Song), the court reopened the case against Su Shi (蘇軾) for "slander in drafting edicts" and banished Dongpo once more, from Huizhou (in southeastern Guangdong) to Qiongzhou (today's Haikou on Hainan Island). He was already sixty-two. But he never lost the cheerful, open-hearted nature he kept all his life, and as soon as he set foot on this land, new life welled up in him. He wrote such lines as "Four prefectures ring a single island, a hundred caves coil within it. A thousand mountains stir their scales and armor, ten thousand valleys ring drunk with pipes and bells" (四州環一島，百洞蟠其中。千山動鱗甲，萬谷酣笙鐘。) and "In the Li mountains lives a hermit, his body withered but his spirit whole. Free and unfettered he comes and goes alone; honor and disgrace do not easily touch him" (黎山有幽子，形槁神獨完。翛然獨往來，榮辱未易關。).

The Li mountains are Wuzhi Mountain (Five Finger Mountain) on Hainan Island, which towers among the four prefectures of Qiong, Wan, Ya and Dan. Many Li people live there, with their own distinctive culture and customs.

The Li people are further divided into two groups, the "raw Li" (生黎) and the "cooked Li" (熟黎). The raw Li live deep in the mountains and still live by part farming and part herding. The cooked Li live in the low hills and river valleys and have taken on Han ways; their language and way of life are the same as those of the Han Chinese.

There were many cooked Li in the small town of Dongshan. The women washed clothes by the stream, the men worked in the fields, there were regular market days, and they lived in harmony with the Han.

The four prefectures of Hainan in the Song dynasty were Qiong (today's Haikou), Wan (today's Wanning County, in southeastern Hainan Province), Ya (today's Yacheng, in southern Hainan Province; 50 kilometers to its east is Sanya, China's southernmost major city, with the Yulin naval base on its east) and Dan (today's Danzhou, in the central west). (120)

Hainan Island rises in the middle, and its rivers run out to the sea in all directions like spokes. The Nandu River, Hainan's largest, flows past the southwest of Dongshan town, turns north 20 kilometers to its east, and enters the sea at Haikou.

Blessed by its location, Dongshan is good for farming, with rich harvests of rice, sweet potatoes, vegetables and fruit.

Poultry raising is still one of Dongshan's industries today, and duck-farming families are a common sight along the river. By the roads and in the rice paddies, flocks of ducks often gather, small ones of a hundred or so and big ones of nearly a thousand, a magnificent sight.

The duck farmers wore extra-large bamboo hats and carried extra-long bamboo poles, driving their flocks on big bare feet. Sometimes a flock took more than ten minutes to cross the road, and passing vehicles could only wait patiently. Once driven into the paddies, the ducks eagerly hunted for food such as river snails, leeches and tadpoles.

The ducks obeyed the bamboo pole and spoken commands completely. The farmers handled their poles with skill and grace, like an honor guard performing a rifle drill. With pole in hand, a farmer was also like the conductor of a symphony orchestra giving directions; or, even more, like the commander of a vast army: one order, one movement.

In the paddies, the ducks foraged and laid eggs as they went, while their keepers followed close behind, sharp-eyed and quick-handed, busily gathering the eggs. It was a rare sight, scene and feeling in perfect harmony. (121)

We lived in the small town of Dongshan for only a month before my father's duties changed and we moved to Haikou. Our new home was in the east of Haikou, near a small stream running north and south. It was a typical Chinese farmhouse, surrounded by a brick wall. A flagstone path led to the road into town, passing a temple, and vegetable gardens and bamboo groves were all in view.

We rented two rooms on the left side of the farmhouse entrance. The row of rooms on the right was home to the owner's family, three generations under one roof, nearly 20 people.

Between the two rows of rooms was a small courtyard with a well in the middle.

The owner and his wife worked all day in the vegetable garden and bamboo grove; the vegetables and bamboo shoots brought the family a good income. Their two sons were carpenters who worked in the courtyard making all kinds of wooden tubs. They had regular buyers and more orders than they could handle. The two daughters-in-law took turns weaving on the same loom.

The wood for the tubs came from a sawmill south of town. From pattern-making, sawing, sun-drying, planing and assembly to leak-testing and the finished product, every step was done with practiced skill, and the tubs were handsome and practical.

Both daughters-in-law were Li. They wove with thread twisted from flax fibers.

The loom was made of several wooden frames, and the weaver sat on a crossbar to work it. The warp threads hung from the top of the frame, and the shuttle passed the weft threads up and down through the warp until all the threads were woven into a bolt of cloth. They could also weave colorful patterned decorative cloth, which the Li used to make handicrafts.

Seventy years on, looms of this venerable kind have gone on display in the Hainan Provincial Museum. The museum, in Qiongshan District of Haikou, officially opened on November 15, 2008.

This family's mealtimes were warm and lively, especially supper, when everyone was there. The table, benches, steamers, serving bowls, wooden bowls, chopsticks, wooden ladles and spoons were all homemade. They ate simply: three vegetable dishes, one meat dish and a vegetable soup. What intrigued us was that the rice was steamed, put into a wooden tub, and then two big dippers of well water were added, so every grain of rice sat in cold water, neither dry nor soupy. Eating this way helped them withstand Hainan's hot weather and ward off tropical fevers. (122)

We also got to know a mute girl, a year younger than my eldest younger sister. She was bright and pretty. Both her parents had died, and she had had a hard life. She lived with her grandfather in the nearby temple, where he did odd jobs for a living. The mute girl was very friendly to us and easy to get along with, and we could communicate with gestures.

Every night we heard the night watch. At every watch, every two hours, the sound came from far to near, gongs mixed with calls.

Curious, I peered out through the crack of the gate. It was the mute girl and her grandfather. The girl walked in front carrying a lantern, and her grandfather followed, beating a bronze gong and calling, "The weather is dry; take care with fire and candles." That such a thing still went on in the 1950s was hard to believe.

Not far from home, about a ten-minute walk, was a theater where the headquarters of a signal company was stationed. My father often went there on business for his work. The officers and men stationed there could watch the shows free, and we benefited too, going with our parents to see Cantonese opera. The shows I remember best were "Snow in June" (六月雪), "Colorful Clouds Chasing the Moon" (彩雲追月) and "The Flower Princess".

The singing styles in Cantonese opera are very varied. Sometimes the performers would sing part of a popular song, with the same tune but words fitted to the story, which was very creative. Besides the sanxian, pipa, taoqin, flutes, gongs and drums, the orchestra also used the violin, the houguan (a reed pipe) and the saxophone.

One has to admire Mr. Ma Sze-tsang (馬斯曾) for his contribution to the reform of Cantonese opera, bringing new blood into the tradition. It directly influenced the Communist Ministry of Culture's reform of Peking opera, which produced the "model operas". In 1964, when I was serving on Kinmen, Mao's army in Xiamen broadcast psychological-warfare messages at Chiang's army and sometimes played model operas. One line went: "Report, Company Commander: the Chiang army's beachhead has been taken." (123)

Section 53: It Is the Times, Fate and Fortune, Not the End of the Road

On the afternoon of January 12, 1950, my great-aunt (my mother's aunt), Ms. Yin Shiquan (尹世荃), the first woman member of the Kuomintang in Rizhao County, Shandong, led our family, my uncle included, aboard the Taiwan Shipping and Transport Company's Yilan, sailing from Haikou to Taiwan.

The next day, as the Yilan sailed the vast South China Sea, a force-10 gale blew up overnight, to the surprise of even the captain. Our cabin was at the stern. Waves five or six zhang (some 17 to 20 meters) high roared at the cabin like countless giant beasts. We rose and fell with the waves as if on a roller coaster. More than 40 passengers were hurriedly moved down to the lower hold.

All the passengers on the ship shared the same fate, with the same ideal, pursuing the same goal. The ship was heading for a place where we might perhaps settle down and build our lives: that lighthouse in the great sea, Taiwan.

The tears of lonely loyal subjects through a thousand years; how many times has this land been left in ruins? (千年孤臣涙，江山幾局殘。) Blessing or disaster, the future was uncertain. Whether we could return to the mainland would depend on the times and fortune. If we were to put down deep roots in Taiwan, that was fate. Whom could we blame, whom could we resent? It is the times, fate and fortune; how could the road be at an end?

Of the ten years before 1949, my father sighed with a sob: "The years of wandering left their marks; the rivers ebbed away with the passing seasons. History wears down past and present; I have seen all the world's great changes." (歲月流離印痕，江河退逝年光。歷史消磨古今，看盡世事滄桑。) We never expected that we would end up living in Taiwan for more than seventy years. Our accent has not changed, though our customs have; a strange land has become my homeland. However history goes on to be written, I always hope that our compatriots on both sides of the Taiwan Strait will be upright, honorable Chinese. (124)

After a terrifying night at sea, the Yilan reached Keelung at noon on January 14. A fine rain was falling over Keelung harbor. It was 213 days since we had left Keelung for Zhanjiang on June 16, 1949. In just seven months, the situation had been turned upside down.

Just then, Madame Chiang Kai-shek, Soong Mei-ling (宋美齡), returned to Taiwan, ending the trip she had begun on November 28, 1948, when she hurried to the United States to lobby Congress and the administration to support the government of the Republic of China. She had been away for 1 year, 1 month and 18 days.

Earlier, on January 8, in an interview on NBC's "Meet the Press", Madame Chiang said: "We thank the American people for their constant support of the Republic of China since the Second World War. Some of the allies who fought side by side with us in the Second World War have already turned their backs on us. Our government has moved to Taiwan, and millions of people have followed it there, holding no illusions about the Chinese Communist regime. It is not easy to ask others for help; we will stand on our own feet in Taiwan, set aside our pride and start again from the beginning. In a few days I will go to Taiwan to share the joys and hardships of my compatriots; we cannot let Taiwan turn Red. We are struggling to survive on a small island in a great sea. The last line of defense for the survival of freedom and democracy for the Chinese nation is in Taiwan."

Madame Chiang's words of counsel still ring in our ears. What our people should think deeply about is this: the government of the Republic of China moved to Taiwan 70 years ago, so why, since the 1990s, has our country's situation become so hard, to such an unbearable degree? Looking back on the ten years on the mainland from 1940 to 1950 may give an answer to this question. Storms over our homeland: it is the times, it is fate, it is fortune.

(125, the end)

Afterword to Those Stormy Years of My Homeland (江山風雨)

The year 2697 BC was the first year of the Yellow Emperor's era. Counting to 2021 (year 110 of the Republic of China), our nation has existed for 4,718 years.

History carries the past into the future, flowing from a distant source. In the long river of history, 1940 to 1950 was a crucial decade for our nation and for the descendants of the Yan and Yellow Emperors.

From victory in the War of Resistance against Japan, through the civil war between the Nationalists and the Communists, to the division of the two sides of the Strait, the scale of change was rare in history. I count myself fortunate to have grown up in that era and lived through ten stormy years of a suffering China.

My late father urged me to record this history, to bear witness to that era and the road we traveled; for with history as a mirror, one can understand the rise and fall of nations.

My father even chose a title for the book, "Ten Years Adrift, Watching Mountains and Rivers" (十年流離看山河), but my mother suggested changing it to "Those Stormy Years of My Homeland" (江山風雨). Thinking deeply on its meaning, I saw that the storms over the land of China have lasted far more than ten years.

In October 2020 I finished the final draft of Those Stormy Years of My Homeland. I have always wanted to go on to write about the stormy years after the two sides of the Strait were divided, but I feel my strength is not equal to my wishes. I pray the Lord will grant me a healthy body and a better setting for writing. February 6, 2021
In Los Angeles