Fun & Blood

The Chinese as a general rule is more intelligent than his white brother. He knows too much to be a good soldier . . . the resounding words "Motherland" and "Glory" . . . cannot stir him to any great enthusiasm. . . .

--Vicente Blasco Ibanez (1923).

Japanese generals and even privates had almost the most fun of their lives last week. It was fun to see Chinchow. the last Chinese stronghold in Manchuria, abandoned by 84.000 Chinese soldiers so intelligent that not even the word "Motherland" could make them pause to discharge their 58 pieces of artillery or to fire their 8,000,000 rounds of rifle ammunition.

It was fun for the Japanese War Office to announce a radio broadcast of The Battle of the Taling River, fun to set up microphones behind the Japanese lines, arrange an elaborate hookup to broadcast the firing from Tokyo, and then to call off the broadcast when intelligent Chinese ran instead of battling.

As the Japanese columns swung into Chinchow it was fun to see the Chinese populace, yellow if ever a populace was, waving Japanese flags hastily home-made during the night to appease the Japanese conquerors, men who still fight for the word and substance of "Glory."

And it was fun--for the whole Japanese people--to read in the papers that nine potent Chinese Generals in various parts of China had denounced the brand new Chinese Government at Nanking formed fortnight ago by Premier Sun Fo, blaming it for failure to prevent the Japanese capture of Chinchow and threatening the very life of the new Government, which might fall at any time.

But all things considered (from the Japanese viewpoint) probably most fun was had last week by three humble Japanese sentries patrolling the Japanese South Manchuria Railway Station at Mukden, capital of Manchuria.

Just after 6:30 a. m. the Japanese sentries saw a motor car flying the U. S. flag and bearing the emblem of U. S. Consul General Myrl S. Myers drive up to the station. Out stepped a slender, well-dressed U. S. citizen. He showed a U. S. diplomatic passport proclaiming him to be Culver Bryant Chamberlain, newly appointed U. S. Consul at Harbin. Because he speaks no Japanese, speaks perfect Chinese, knows that most Japanese know a little Chinese, Consul Chamberlain addressed the Japanese sentry in Chinese, promptly received a blow in the face.

Resourceful, Consul Chamberlain pulled the large fur hat which he was wearing because of the bitter cold down over his bruised face and started to get back into his car. His chauffeur, volubly expostulating in Japanese, tried to save the situation. But into the tonneau after Consul Chamberlain piled the Japanese sentries, pulled off his fur hat and savagely beat his face, gashing the skin of his nose and forehead until bone showed white through the red, dripping wounds. When the sentries had done with Consul Chamberlain they departed grinning. Friends of Consul Chamberlain were relieved to learn that after his face had been disinfected and bandaged he was able to catch the next train from Mukden to Harbin.

Earlier in the week the Japanese War Ministry had fulminated against the meddlesomeness in Manchuria of consular and military "observers" sent there by the Great Powers. Thus the bloody assault on Consul Chamberlain might have been construed as a warning, but the Imperial Government blandly described it as a "misunderstanding." President Hoover, gentle Quaker, and Congress, not so gentle, could obtain whenever they chose the utmost satisfaction from Japan.

The U. S. buys 45% of all Japanese exports. A U. S. embargo declared against these products would cripple the trade and the silk industry of Japan over night, but while the embargo lasted U. S. women would have to pay more for silk stockings.

Acting Consul Kazuhito Morishima hastened to apologize to Consul General Myers. To Consul Chamberlain went Lieutenant Colonel Hayakutake, head of the Japanese military at Harbin, to con vey the army's apologies. But what military spokesmen told correspondents was that Consul Chamberlain was "arrogant," "insulting," treated the Japanese funmakers "like Chinese." They paid no heed to the American flag because Chinese had been using it to disguise anti-Japanese activities, "so that Japanese soldiers have little confidence in the American flag, which has so often been misused." Where upon the army punished the interpreter by dismissal, the two soldiers by "holding them for questioning." In Washington the State Department protested to Ambassador Katsuji Debuchi, indicated that it wanted more of an apology than had been given.

When Egyptians assassinated Sir Lee Stack (TIME, Dec. 1, 1924), the British Government collected an indemnity of -L-500,000. When Persians assassinated U. S. Consul Major Robert Whitney Imbrie the U. S. asked and got $60,000 (TIME, Oct. 13, 1924).

Born in Indiana, assaulted Consul Chamberlain spent his boyhood in Kansas, graduated from a California high school to become the youngest member of the U. S. foreign sendee. Twice U. S. Consul at Canton, China, he led two daring expeditions by U. S. Marines against Chinese river pirates. On the first he recovered a stolen U. S. river launch, on the second he secured the release of 24 captured missionaries.

In 1927 he dashed to Manhattan for the opening of Enchanted Isle, an operetta by Sister Ida Hoyt Chamberlain, then dashed back to China. After again visiting the U. S. last autumn. Consul Chamberlain spent Christmas in Shanghai.

The question was last week: Will the Japanese armies dust on to Peiping? In Mukden, after the Japanese conquest, posters in Chinese mysteriously appeared on walls, stated that Japan's conquest will be pushed on from Manchuria into China proper, even unto the taking of Peiping.

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