ISLAND REDOUBT

A black Packard with drawn shades stopped before the palaitial brick building that once housed Japan's governor general in Taipei, capital of Formosa. Behind it rolled a Buick convertible full of bodyguards. They stood aside watchfully as , Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek hurried inside the building to confer with his old military pupil, now Formosa's Nationalist governor, greying General Chen Cheng.

The Gimo looked fit and rested. He had gained eight pounds during "retirement." From his mountain hideout overlooking a black sand beach on Formosa's southern coast, he had come to give counsel and approval to plans for converting the island into a Nationalist redoubt. China's war had entered a phase of last-ditch peripheral resistance. In the far Northwest, Moslem Warlord Ma Pufang was using his hard-riding horsemen to harry the Communist inland flank (TIME, June 27). From Formosa the Gimo's remnant navy and air force, carrying on a blockade of sorts, were needling the Communist coastal flank.

In Washington, Formosa assumed an increasing prominence in discussions of future U.S. strategy in Asia. With the help of U.S. sea and air power it could be held against Communist attack. It flanked the line of a possible Communist advance across the South China Sea.

But Formosa had its drawbacks as an anti-Communist redoubt governed by Chinese Nationalists. Mostly these boiled down to the simple fact that 6 1/2 million Formosans did not like the Chinese. Last week TIME Correspondent Wilson Fielder cabled this picture of the island in its new, unwanted role:

Good Old Days. Cool breezes drifted gently across the golden grain of rice paddies that step up the lush green tropical mountains ringing Formosa's capital. Farther south, water, buffaloes dragged plows for peak-capped farmers turning soil for one of their three yearly rice crops. Nearby lay fields thick with sugar cane and vegetables. At night, electric lights --rare in rural Asia--twinkled from the modest huts of tiny villages. By day many villagers not needed in the fields worked in the small industrial plants that dot the island. Compared to mainland Chinese, the Formosans were well off. Nevertheless they were grumbling. In guarded whispers they spoke of the "good old days" of Japanese rule. The years since V-J day had taken with them much of the sting of iron-fisted totalitarianism. The islanders now remembered how Japan had given , order to their lives, while China had brought them to the brink of chaos. The reason for their discontent was easy to see.

Along Taipei's broad, palm-shaded streets, sleek automobiles rushed rich mainland occupants to recently acquired business and government offices. Well-groomed Chinese women cluttered restaurants and shops, jammed sidewalk money-exchange booths, displaying rolls of crisp U.S. dollar notes. Thousands of Chinese soldiers, with the defeat of Shanghai just behind them, camped in the cavernous railroad station or roamed the streets. Civilians and soldiers (1,500,000 in number) were refugees from the communism now flooding south across China. They were also a troublesome burden to a people who wanted their island home for themselves.

The Japanese colonial masters had harnessed Formosa's rivers to produce light and power. They opened coal mines, built industrial plants (sugar, cement, aluminum, etc.), developed fertilizers and irrigation so that the farmer could produce more rice. Today the island's industrial output is only 60% of prewar. Cement, necessary for reconstruction of cities gutted and leveled by U.S. warplanes, brings outrageous prices on the black market; manufacturers refuse to produce because the government has pegged prices below production costs. Other industries are shut down because replacement parts are not available. Formosa's railroads are still on time, mostly because their Japanese-trained crews are still in charge. But last week, when rail workers complained about wages below the starvation level, they were told: "Start growing victory gardens."

Rice acreage is bigger than ever, but yields are down because fertilizer, which used to cost $40 a ton, now costs $140. By year's end, because of the influx of refugees and army demands, the island, once self-sustaining, may be short of food. Government monopolies (inherited from the Japanese) and fixed prices for island products make it next to impossible for anyone but the government to export. Imported consumer goods are priced beyond reach of the average Formosan. "The Chinese are squeezing us," complain the islanders. "They put everything into their pockets. They act like people who don't plan to be around very long. The Japanese at least furnished us with the cloth and consumer goods we needed."

Pigs Just Eat. This resentment is grounded partly in the psychology of a colonial people whose standards of living, general educational level and technical proficiency were raised well above the standards of their mainland Chinese brethren. The Japanese, for example, trained 30,000 Formosan doctors, more than the number in all the rest of China. But when the mainland Chinese took over the island, they did not even treat the Formosans as equals, but as "liberated" inferiors. The result is that even thoughtful Formosans now say: "We think of the Japanese as dogs and the Chinese as pigs. A dog eats, but he protects. A pig just eats."

Many Formosans want complete independence for their island--to be gained by revolution or any other means. Others talk of "autonomy under a good Chinese government," neither Nationalist nor Communist. A third group favors a U.S. mandate.

So far, Formosa's resentment has failed to weld a solid revolutionary party. The island's leaders are more emotional than realistic. Fifty years of Japanese control kept them out of top government positions, barred them from adequate administrative experience. Though all are bitterly critical of both Nationalists and Communists (said one Formosan recently returned from Red Peiping: "The regimes of Nationalists and Communists are like eggs laid down by snakes of the same family"), they seem more interested in paddling their own canoes than shaping a strong third force that would be the best weapon against the communism they all hate.

Last Chance. The island has two good armies totaling 40,000 men. Their commander is handsome General Sun Li-jen. A V.M.I, graduate, veteran of Burma and Manchuria, General Sun has been in charge of Nationalist ground forces training at a base on the southern tip of the island. After Shanghai's fall three additional armies were transferred to Formosa. Including naval and air units, upwards of 350,000 Nationalist troops are living on the islanders. Many are quartered in village schools and local folk are forced to contribute to their support. The new troops have behaved badly. Their vehicles, racing madly through the streets, have killed civilians. There are reports of rape and other crimes.

General Sun spoke frankly last week of his problems. "The behavior of incoming troops is defeating our patient previous work in gradually winning the confidence of the people by en] forcing Western standards of discipline." Governor Chen Cheng has come to Sun's support. Recently he ordered the execution of one army truckdriver on the spot where the driver had killed a pedestrian. He dismissed the driver's regimental commander.

There are other signs of Nationalist reform. A land rent measure is under way to raise tenants' share of the harvest from 50% to 62.5%. In an effort to halt spiraling inflation, the island's currency has been pegged to the U.S. dollar; this has not been effective, even though the Nationalists have a substantial gold hoard. Formosans have no confidence in the Nationalist government: they say gold shifted from the mainland to Formosa could just as easily be shifted out again.

If Formosans, Chinese Nationalists and the U.S. cannot find a solution for Formosa, the Communists certainly will. Said one foreign resident last week: "I feel sorry for the islanders. Mainland Chinese are used to fending for themselves, come what may. Under Japanese totalitarianism, the government looked after the Formosans . . . The police even checked to see if their homes were clean. The islanders expected the Chinese government to do the same. Now they are lost."

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