Mao: The Unknown Story Read online

  JUST AFTER THE mutiny against Mao, the Jiangxi Communists had appealed for support to Zhu De and Peng. “Comrades,” they pleaded, “is our Party going to be for ever so black and lightless?” These two had no love for Mao. One night after a good deal of rice wine, Zhu remarked to an old friend: “Many old comrades … have been killed in the purge. The man behind their killing is you know who.” The friend knew he meant Mao and said so in his memoirs. Then he quoted Zhu saying: “The Futian incident was also entirely caused by old Mao slaughtering AB. So many comrades have been killed …” Zhu “looked immensely sad.” However, he and Peng stuck with Mao. Shanghai and Moscow were behind Mao, and siding with the Jiangxi Reds would mean cutting themselves off from the Party. Mao had laid the groundwork for framing Zhu and Peng. He had been purging Zhu De’s staff, and had had two of Zhu’s five aides-de-camp executed. Nor would it be difficult for Mao to coerce some torture victim to make accusations against Zhu — and Peng. One message had reached Russia’s military intelligence chief in China suggesting that “Peng might be mixed up” in AB.

  Not only did Mao blackmail the military commanders, he made sure they had the blood of their comrades on their hands. He ordered Zhu to sit on the panel that sentenced Liou Di to death.

  Zhu and Peng did not stand up to Mao for another reason. At this time, in December 1930, Chiang Kai-shek had just won the war against his Nationalist rivals, and was launching an “annihilation expedition” against the Communists. Zhu and Peng cared about the Red Army, and feared that a split would doom it. Their attitude differed from Mao’s. During this and subsequent attacks by Chiang in 1931, Mao never halted the purge, and when the Generalissimo paused, Mao redoubled his internecine killings — even though the people he was killing had just been fighting Chiang at the front.

  MAO’S RUTHLESSNESS PRODUCED an effective policy against Chiang. This was to “lure the enemy deep into the Red area and strike when it is exhausted.” Mao argued that as the Nationalists were not familiar with the terrain, the conditions must favor the Reds. Because there were so few roads, Nationalist troops would have to rely on local supplies, and since the Reds could control the population they could deprive the enemy of food and water. Mao’s plan was to force the entire population to bury their food and household goods, block every well with huge stones, and evacuate to the mountains so that Chiang’s army could not find water or food, or laborers and guides. The strategy turned the Reds’ base into a battlefield, imposing colossal hardships on the entire population, whom Mao forced into harm’s way.

  Few Red leaders agreed with Mao, but his strategy worked. A Nationalist commander later lamented that everywhere “we saw no people, the houses were cleaned out as if by floods, there was no food, no woks, no pots … We couldn’t get any military information.” Chiang reflected in his diary: “The difficulty of annihilating the [Communist] bandits is greater than a big war, because they fight in their territory and can get the population to do what they want.”

  Yet it was not Mao’s brutal strategy that clinched the Reds’ victory. What really tipped the scale was Russian assistance — though this remains virtually unknown. Moscow set up a top-level Military Advisory Group in the Soviet Union to plan strategy, and a military committee in Shanghai, staffed by Russian and other (especially German) advisers. The critical help came from Soviet military intelligence, the GRU, which had a network of more than 100 agents in China, mostly Chinese operating in Nationalist offices near the Red Army, whose main job was to provide information to the Chinese Communists. In early 1930, Moscow had dispatched a star officer, the half-German, half-Russian Richard Sorge, to Shanghai. Sorge’s main coup was to infiltrate the German military advisers’ group at Chiang’s forward intelligence HQ, where he worked on the disgruntled wife of one of the advisers, Stölzner, to steal the Nationalist codes, including those used for communications between the General Staff and units in the field. This information from Russian spies gave Mao an incalculable advantage. The CCP also had its own agents working in the heart of Nationalist intelligence. One, Qian Zhuang-fei, became the confidential secretary of the Nationalist intelligence chief U. T. Hsu, and played a big role in Mao’s success.

  These intelligence networks provided Mao with precise information about the movements of Chiang’s army. Two weeks into the expedition, on 30 December 1930, Mao used 40,000 troops and civilians to lay an ambush against 9,000 Nationalist troops. The previous day he had learned exactly which units were coming, and when. Mao waited from dawn on a distant peak, while fog and mist shrouded the mountains, and then watched the action amidst maple leaves, some still blazing red on the trees and others fallen on the frosty ground. In the afternoon sunshine, excited cries from below announced victory. Most of the Nationalist troops had simply put up their hands, and the Nationalist commander was captured. The general was exhibited at a mass rally, which Mao addressed, and at which, under guidance, the crowd yelled: “Chop his head off! Eat his flesh!” His head was then sliced off, and sent down the river attached to a door, with a little white flag saying it was “a gift” for his superiors.

  This ambush ended Chiang’s first expedition, from which the Red Army gained both arms and prisoners, as well as radios and radio operators. Mao’s prestige rose. Few had any idea about the critical role played by Russian intelligence, as well as by Russian money, medicine and arms. Mao had even asked for poison gas.

  In April 1931, Nationalist troops came back for a second “annihilation expedition.” Again they were thwarted by the tactic of “luring the enemy deep into the Red area,” and again Moscow provided critical aid and intelligence, this time including a high-powered two-way radio acquired from Hong Kong, and Russian-trained radio technicians. For this campaign, Mao was able to intercept enemy communications.

  But at the beginning of July Chiang Kai-shek himself led a vastly expanded force of 300,000 men for a third expedition, and modified his tactics so that it was much harder for Mao to use his intelligence advantage to lay ambushes. Moreover, this time the Generalissimo’s forces were ten times the size of Mao’s, and were able to stay and occupy the areas they were “lured” into. The Red Army found itself unable to return. Within two months the Red base had been reduced to a mere several dozen square kilometers, and Mao’s men were on the verge of collapse.

  But Chiang did not press on. Mao was saved by the most unlikely actor — fascist Japan.

  IN 1931, Japan stepped up its encroachment on Manchuria in northeast China. Faced with threats at opposite ends of his vast country, Chiang decided on a policy of “Domestic Stability First”—sort out the Reds before tackling Japan. But Tokyo torpedoed his timing. On 18 September Chiang boarded a ship from Nanjing to Jiangxi to give a big push to his drive against Mao’s shrunken base. That very night, at 10:00 PM, Japan invaded Manchuria, in effect starting the Pacific — and Second World — War. The Nationalist commander in Manchuria, Chang Hsueh-liang, known as the Young Marshal, did not fight back. Over sixty years later, he told us why: resistance would have been futile. “There was no way we could win,” he said. “We could only fight a guerrilla war, or have a shambolic go at it … The quality of the Chinese army could not compare with the Japanese … The Japanese army was really brilliant … ‘Non-resistance’ … was the only feasible policy.”

  By the time Chiang Kai-shek arrived in Jiangxi next day, 19 September, Japan had already occupied the capital of Manchuria, Shenyang (aka Mukden), and other major cities, and he had to rush back to Nanjing on the 20th to cope with the crisis. He did not declare war on Japan, reasoning, like the Young Marshal, that armed resistance would be futile, given Japan’s overwhelming military power. Chiang’s tactic was to use China’s huge space, manpower and daunting terrain to buy time, knowing that it was virtually impossible for Japan to occupy and garrison the whole of China. For now, he sought intervention from the League of Nations. His long-term plan was to modernize his army, build up the economy, and fight Japan when there was some chance of winning.

 
“This misfortune might even turn out to be a blessing in disguise,” Chiang wrote in his diary, “if it gets the country united.” Nanjing immediately decided to “suspend the plan of … annihilating the Communists,” and proposed a United Front against Japan. The CCP spurned the idea, saying that any suggestion that it was willing to join a United Front was “ridiculous in the extreme.” The Communists’ attitude was that the Nationalists, not the Japanese, were their chief enemy, and their slogans made this pointedly clear, ordaining “Down with the Nationalists,” but merely “Oppose Japanese imperialists.” The Party’s “central task” was described as “defending the Soviet Union with arms” (following Moscow’s line that the Japanese invasion of Manchuria was a prelude to attacking the Soviet Union).

  Since then, history has been completely rewritten, and the world has come to believe that the CCP was more patriotic and keener to fight Japan than the Nationalists were — and that the CCP, not the Nationalists, was the party that proposed the United Front. All this is untrue.

  When he came up with the idea of a United Front against Japan, Chiang pulled his troops out of the war zone in Jiangxi. The Reds at once exploited this opportunity to recover lost territory, expand, and establish their own state.

  On 7 November 1931, the fourteenth anniversary of the Russian Revolution, this state was proclaimed. Although it was not recognized by any other country, not even its sponsor, the Soviet Union, it was the only Communist regime in the world outside the Communist bloc, which then consisted only of Russia and Mongolia.

  This state was made up of several Red regions dotted around the heartland of the country, in the provinces of Jiangxi, Fujian, Hunan, Hubei, Henan, Anhui and Zhejiang. At its maximum, the total territory covered some 150,000–160,000 square km, with a population of over 10 million. At the time of its founding the largest enclave was the “Central Base Area,” the region where Mao was operating, which consisted of Red Jiangxi and Red Fujian, covering some 50,000 sq. km, with a population of 3.5 million. Moscow had designated it as the seat of the Red government over a year before, with the town of Ruijin as its capital.

  Moscow also appointed Mao head of the state, with the very un-Chinese title of chairman of the Central Executive Committee. He was “prime minister” as well, being chairman of the body called the People’s Committee. On the evening the posts were announced, a crony came to see Mao. This man had personally tortured Lee Wen-lin, the Jiangxi Red leader Mao most hated, and afterwards had reported the details to Mao. He now came to offer congratulations. “Mao Zhu-xi—Chairman Mao!” he called out. “You learn really fast,” Mao replied. “You are the first person.” This torturer was the first person to use the title that was to become part of the world’s vocabulary: “Chairman Mao.”

  In the outlaw land, the first Communist county chief of Ninggang was killed, in September 1928, by his fellow-Communists, seven months after he had been installed at a rally where his Nationalist predecessor was speared to death. The man Mao left in charge of the area was also killed in a bloody vendetta nine months after Mao’s departure. He had apparently had the beautiful young wife of a Party official tortured and executed on the charge of being an enemy agent. He was then killed on the same charge.

  Even when the purge had counterproductive effects. A 1932 report by the (Communist) Federation of Labor said workers were “simply scared” to join Communist unions: “They have seen that the majority [sic] of the workers [who were] members of the trade union were executed [i.e., by their own comrades] on the charge of belonging to ‘AB.’ ”

  Subsequently famous as the spy who in 1941 provided Stalin with the vital intelligence that Japan was not going to attack the Soviet Far East when Hitler invaded European Russia. One of Sorge’s assistants was a woman called Zhang Wen-qiu, whose two daughters later married Mao’s two surviving sons. She had come to Sorge’s attention through Agnes Smedley, an American agent for the Comintern.

  Thanks to the control of the Red territories, Party membership rose to 120,000 in 1931, from 18,000 at the end of 1926.

  9. MAO AND THE FIRST RED STATE (1931–34 AGE 37–40)

  RUIJIN, THE CAPITAL of the new Red state, was situated in southeast Jiangxi, in the middle of a red-earth basin cradled by hills on three sides. It was 300 roadless km from the Nationalist-controlled provincial capital, Nanchang, but only about 40 km from the large Red-held city of Tingzhou over the border in Fujian, which was linked to the outside world by river. Semi-tropical, the area was blessed with rich agricultural products, and endowed with unusual giant trees like camphor and the banyan, whose old tough roots rose overground, while new roots cascaded from the crown.

  The headquarters of the Red government lay outside the town, at the site of a large clan temple 500 years old, with a hall spacious enough to hold hundreds of people for the inevitable meetings. Where the clan altar had stood, a stage was built in the Soviet Russian fashion. On it hung red woodcut portraits of Marx and Lenin, and between them a red flag with a gold star and a hammer and sickle. A red cloth above it was stitched in gold thread with the slogan: “Proletariat of all the world, unite!” Next to it, in silver, was the slogan: “Class Struggle.” Down both sides of the hall, makeshift partitions demarcated fifteen offices as the new state administration. They had names that were direct translations from Russian, and were a mouthful in Chinese, like “People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs.”

  Behind the clan temple, a large square was cleared of trees and farmland to make room for the Communists’ staple activity: mass rallies. Later on, various monuments were built on this square. At one end was a timber-and-brick dais for holding Soviet-style military reviews. At the other was a tower to commemorate Red Army dead (called “martyrs”), shaped like a giant bullet, with numerous bullet-like stones sticking out of it. Flanking this were two memorials, one a pavilion, the other a fortress, named after two dead Red commanders. The whole set-up anticipated Tiananmen Square in Communist Peking, though the monuments were much more imaginative and colorful than the leaden architecture later to disfigure Tiananmen.

  Nearby, deep in a wood, the Communists built a camouflaged auditorium with a capacity of 2,000, whose excellent acoustics were designed to make up for the absence of microphones. It was octagonal, shaped like the Red Army cap of the day. The façade was reminiscent of a European cathedral, only with shuttered windows, through which people could look out, but not in. Above the central gate was an enormous red star with a globe bulging out in the middle, firmly locked in by a hammer and sickle. Next to the auditorium was an air-raid shelter capable of holding over 1,000 people, with two access doors located just behind the stage, so that the leaders could reach it first.

  The leaders lived in a mansion which had belonged to the richest person in the village, situated to one side of the clan temple now turned government office. Here Mao chose the best accommodation, a corner suite at the back with a window looking out onto the temple. This window was specially made for him, as the previous owner, out of deference for the temple, would not have any windows overlooking it. Mao also had a brick floor laid over the timber to keep out rats.

  The land abutting the leaders’ residence was taken over to house guards and orderlies, as well as high-security installations like the gold store, the switchboard and the radio station. Apart from some villagers kept on to work as servants, the rest were evicted en masse, and the whole area was barricaded off from the outside. None of the Party bosses was able to speak the local dialect, and most made no effort to learn, so they needed interpreters to communicate with the locals, with whom they had little contact anyway. Cadres from the region acted as their links. It was the style and pattern of an occupying army.

  ON 7 NOVEMBER 1931, Ruijin held a grand celebration to mark the founding of the Red state. That evening, tens of thousands of locals were organized to put on a parade, holding bamboo torches and lanterns in the shape of stars or hammers and sickles. The streams of lights simmered against the darkness of the night, producin
g quite a spectacle. There were drums and firecrackers and skits, one with a “British imperialist” driving before him prisoners in chains labeled “India” and “Ireland.” A generator, roaring in an air-raid shelter by the side of the temple, produced electricity, which shone in the numerous small bulbs arrayed along wires slung from pillar to pillar. They illuminated the endless banners and slogans of different colors that also hung from the wires — as well as giant red, white and black posters on the walls. Mao and the other leaders stood on the presidium, clapping and shouting slogans, as the procession passed below them. This was Mao’s first taste of future glories when up to a million people would hail him on Tiananmen.

  But here there was one vital difference: Mao in Ruijin was not the supreme leader. Although Moscow made him the “president” and the “prime minister,” it did not make him the dictator. Instead it surrounded him with other men whom it could trust to obey its orders. At the top of the army was Zhu De, who was appointed chief of the Military Council. Zhu had been trained in Russia, and the Russians knew him — and knew that he was loyal. Moscow had earlier considered Mao for the post, but had changed its mind. He ended up as only one of the Council’s fifteen ordinary members.

  Most importantly, Mao had a direct, on-the-spot Chinese boss: Chou En-lai, who was to arrive from Shanghai in December 1931, the month after the regime was established, and take up the post of Party chief. In the Communist system, Party boss was the highest authority, above the head of state. With Chou’s arrival, the center of the Party itself shifted to Ruijin, and Shanghai became little more than a liaison office with the Russians. Reliable radio communication was established between Ruijin and Moscow, via Shanghai, where a young man called Po Ku was in charge. The person controlling communication with Moscow was not Mao but Chou En-lai. It was Chou who built Ruijin into a Stalinist state. Mao was not the main person responsible for the foundation and operation of Red Ruijin.