Wan Wan Sui!

Wearing a simple khaki uniform, no decorations, Chiang Kai-shek sat com posed and erect before the microphone.

He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses, glanced at a vase of scarlet flowers on the white-covered table, then slowly read his victory message to "the people and armies of China." Said Chiang: ". . . Our faith in justice through black and hopeless days and eight long years of struggle has today been rewarded. . . . We have won the victory.

. . . But relaxation and pride are not rewards of victory that we seek. Peace . . . will confront us with stupendous and difficult tasks . . . more trying even than those we met during the war. . . . We must march forward on the great road of democracy and unity. . . ." Chungking had jubilantly welcomed the Japanese surrender offer (TIME, Aug. 20).

But no one in the streets had yet heard the news of the enemy's final capitulation.

A loudspeaker carried the Generalissimo's voice from the broadcasting studio to gathering crowds outside. Into the studio, as he spoke, crept faint sounds of firecrackers popping, people shouting.

In ten minutes the Generalissimo was finished. Then, for a moment, the erect shoulders slumped, the facial muscles sagged, the eyes tired. It was a second of relaxation that epitomized eight years of elemental effort.

Afterwards, when the Generalissimo strode out into the sun, a tide of joyous humanity engulfed him. The people jammed the streets on each side of his Cadillac sedan. They crawled through police lines, hung from balconies, yelled from rooftops, held their children high to see the sight. Slowly the Generalissimo, now smiling happily, passed through the wave of jubilation. Hands were thrust in victory salutes as the people shouted: "Chiang . . . Chung kuo . . . wan sui . . . wan wan sui!--Chiang . . . China . . . live ten thousand years . . . live ten thousand ten thousand years!"

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