Mao: The Unknown Story Read online

  Mao had brought with him two iron-clad cases filled with documents, newspaper cuttings, notes, and poems he had composed over the years. When it was sunny, the bodyguards would set out these cases in the courtyard, one on top of the other, and Mao would sit on a makeshift stool reading and rereading the contents, pondering how to reclaim his lost power.

  He still received top-level documents daily, along with his beloved newspapers, both Nationalist and Communist. It was from these newspapers that he spotted a golden opportunity — which he may in fact have created himself. Between 16 and 21 February, a “recantation notice” appeared in major Nationalist newspapers, bearing Chou En-lai’s then pseudonym, renouncing communism and condemning the Communist Party, especially for its subservience to Moscow. The CCP office in Shanghai went to considerable lengths to counter the impact, and put it about that the notice was a fake, circulating leaflets to this effect and trying to place statements in the newspapers.

  Although there is no doubt that the notice was a plant, Chou’s name and authority were undermined. Mao was thus able to exploit this vulnerability. His strategy was not to try to unseat Chou, which would have been unrealistic, but to get Chou to back him to sideline Zhu De and regain control of the army.

  In early March, Mao was invited to a crisis meeting 125 km west of Ruijin, outside the city of Ganzhou, which the Red Army had been trying in vain to capture. The minute the invitation arrived Mao hurried off, even though it was raining hard. Gui-yuan tried to get him to wait until it stopped, but he insisted on leaving at once, and was drenched in an instant. He raced on horseback through the night, and when he got to the meeting weighed straight in to criticize the military command. Most other leaders were in no mood to listen to a lecture from him, and no one suggested he should be reinstated as head of the army.

  But now that Mao was back with the army, he hung on there, and started to put his scheme into action. The Reds soon had to call off the siege of Ganzhou, and the majority agreed they should fight their way westwards to link up with another Red pocket on the Jiangxi — Hunan border. Mao, however, insisted they should go in the opposite direction. As he dug his heels in, it fell to Chou En-lai, as Party chief, to make a decision. Chou opted to endorse both plans, but to send only one-third of the army in the direction favored by the majority, while dispatching the greater part of the army with Mao in the direction Mao wanted. Chou thus allowed Mao to snatch back control of two-thirds of the army, against the wishes of most of the leadership.

  The most likely explanation for this extraordinary decision is that Chou felt it was better, probably vital, to placate Mao. He knew that Mao had threatened to frame both Peng De-huai and Zhu De (plus another Party leader who had opposed Mao, Xiang Ying) with accusations of being “AB.” Mao had not batted an eyelid about slaughtering tens of thousands of loyal Reds who had stood in his way. Mao, in fact, was quite capable of having planted the recantation notice himself. He had displayed a penchant for manipulating the press; for example, creating the rumor of his own death. And why did the fake recantation come right at the time when Chou had just supplanted Mao as the No. 1 in the Red state? Chou could not afford to make an enemy out of Mao.

  Chou’s fear of Mao dated from now and was never to leave him. Mao was repeatedly to dangle the planted recantation over Chou, right up to Chou’s death more than four decades later.

  Mao had told Chou and the military leadership that he wanted to go northeast. After he set off, he suddenly changed route and led his two-thirds of the army to the southeast coast, only informing Chou when he was well on the way, making it impossible for Chou to say no. Later Mao’s colleagues condemned the excursion as an interruption that had “delayed our plans.”

  In making this detour, Mao had the collaboration of his old accomplice Lin Biao, the man who had ganged up with him before to sabotage Zhu De. Lin was the core commander of the force assigned to Mao. On 20 April this force took the prosperous city of Zhangzhou, very near the coast, which was feebly defended and which Mao had targeted for personal reasons.

  One was to gain prestige in the wider world, as Zhangzhou was well connected internationally. Very much with newspaper coverage in mind, Mao entered the city on a white horse, looking uncharacteristically smart in a Sun Yat-sen suit and topee. The army marched in four columns, with bugles blowing. Mao sent his colleagues press cuttings that he collected about himself, reporting his exploits in terms like: “Red Army in Zhangzhou; whole coast shaken; over 100,000 flee”; “28 foreign gunboats gathering in Amoy.” Mao was well aware that the higher his profile, the more obliging Moscow would be. Indeed, when his exasperated colleagues moved to oust him later that year, Moscow restrained them, citing this very reason. As their representative in Shanghai, the German Arthur Ewert, reassured the Russians, he had immediately stressed to Ruijin that “Mao Tse-tung is already a high-profile leader … And so … we have protested against Mao’s removal …”

  But the key reason for Mao to go to Zhangzhou was to amass a private fortune. A large number of crates marked with huge characters, “To be delivered to Mao Tse-tung personally,” went back to Jiangxi. They filled a whole truck, and when the road ran out they were carried by porters. They were said to contain books Mao had bought or looted, and some did. But many contained gold, silver and jewels. They were secretly carried to the top of a mountain by porters, and stored inside a cave by two trusted bodyguards, supervised by Mao’s brother Tse-min. The entrance was sealed, and only these few knew about the haul. The Party leadership was kept in the dark. Mao had bought himself insurance in case he fell out with the Party — and with Moscow.

  WHILE MAO HAD been lingering in Zhangzhou, in May 1932 Chiang Kai-shek was gearing up for another “annihilation expedition,” his fourth, deploying half a million troops. The setting up of the Red state had convinced him that the Communists were not going to unite with him against Japan. On 28 January that year, Japan had attacked Shanghai, China’s key commercial and industrial city, 1,000 km from Manchuria. This time, Chinese troops fought back, taking tremendous casualties. As Japan’s military objectives in the Shanghai area at this stage were limited, the League of Nations was able to broker a ceasefire. Throughout the crisis, which lasted till late April, the Reds worked single-mindedly to expand their own territory. After the crisis subsided, Chiang resuscitated his policy of “Domestic Stability First,” and geared up to attack the Red bases again.

  When they received this intelligence, the CCP leadership cabled Mao to bring the army back to the Red base without delay. Mao replied that he did not believe Chiang would “launch an offensive like the third expedition last year,” and told the Party its “assessment and military strategy are utterly wrong.” He refused to leave Zhangzhou until nearly a month had elapsed and Chiang’s intention was made public — and Mao proven wrong.

  On 29 May he had to return to Red Jiangxi. Thanks to Mao having led them into an isolated cul-de-sac, the tens of thousands of troops with him had to march back over 300 km, in searing heat, and a large number fell ill and died. En route, they had to fight an extra enemy — the Cantonese, who had previously avoided fighting the Reds. The Cantonese had adopted an independent position vis-à-vis Chiang — indeed, had been hatching a plot against him. But Mao’s foray into Zhangzhou had alarmed them: it was only about 80 km from their own province, and the proximity of the danger goaded them into action. Near a town called Water Mouth, the Red Army had to fight one of its few really tough battles, suffering unusually high casualties. The Red soldiers who fought most impressively were some recent mutineers from the Nationalist army, who went into battle stripped to the waist and brandishing giant knives.†

  In spite of causing all these unnecessary casualties and hardships for the Red Army, not only was Mao not reprimanded, he went on the offensive by demanding that he be given the highest post in the army, that of chief political commissar. Mao can only have been encouraged by Moscow’s unbelievably indulgent attitude towards him. While Mao was dallying in Zhang
zhou, the Party leadership, Chou included, had collectively cabled Moscow, calling Mao’s actions “hundred percentage right opportunism” and “absolutely contrary to instructions of the C.I. [Comintern].” But Moscow’s response was that they must at all costs keep Mao on board, and maintain his profile and status. It was clear that Moscow regarded Mao as indispensable, and the Kremlin consistently showed a regard for him that it did not bestow on any other leader. If it came to a showdown, Moscow would most likely take Mao’s side.

  On 25 July, Chou recommended meeting Mao’s demands, “in order to facilitate battle command at the front.” His colleagues wanted to give the job to Chou, but Chou pleaded: “If you insist that Chou is to be the chief political commissar, this would … leave the government Chairman [Mao] with nothing to do … It is awkward in the extreme …” On 8 August, Mao was appointed chief political commissar of the army.

  MAO HAD REGAINED control of the army, but differences with his colleagues only deepened. In summer 1932, Chiang was focusing his attacks on two Red territories north of Jiangxi; on Moscow’s instructions the Party ordered all its armies to coordinate their movements to help these areas. Mao’s assignment was to lead his army closer to the two bases under assault and draw off enemy forces by attacking towns. He did this for a while, then when the going got tough simply refused to fight anymore. In spite of urgent cables asking for help, he basically sat by for a month while Chiang drove the Reds out of these other two bases.

  Chiang’s next target was Jiangxi. Moscow had decided that the best strategy here was to meet Chiang’s attack head-on, but once again Mao just withheld his consent, insisting that it would be much better to disperse the Communist forces and wait and see. Mao did not believe that the hugely outnumbered Red Army could defeat Chiang, and seems to have set his hopes on Moscow bailing out the Chinese Reds. At the time, Moscow and Nanjing were negotiating to restore diplomatic relations, which Moscow had severed in 1929 over China’s attempt to take control of the Chinese Eastern Railway in Manchuria. Mao’s calculation seems to have been that Chiang would have to allow the Chinese Reds to survive as a gesture to Moscow.

  Mao’s colleagues regarded his passive delaying tactics as “extremely dangerous.” Mao would not budge. “Sometimes arguments became endless, endless,” as Chou put it; “it is impossible to know what to do.”

  An emergency meeting had to be convened at the beginning of October, which turned into a showdown with Mao. All the eight top men in the Red base gathered in the town of Ningdu for a meeting chaired by Chou. The anger that flared against Mao can be felt through the jargon the participants used to describe the scene, where, as they put it, they “engaged in unprecedented two-line struggle [“two-line” means as if against an enemy], and broke the previous pattern of yielding to and placating” Mao, which was a reference to Chou’s kid-glove treatment of Mao.

  Mao was denounced for “disrespect for Party leadership, and lacking the concept of the Organization”—in other words, insubordination. The tone would have been harsher still if it had not been for Chou, who, as some of his colleagues reported, “did not criticise Tse-tung’s mistakes unambiguously, but rather, in some places, tried to gloss over and explain away” his actions. The top cadres still in Shanghai, especially Po Ku, were so infuriated with Mao that they wired their colleagues in Ningdu without consulting Moscow’s representatives (which was most unusual, and a sign of how angry they were), calling his actions “intolerable” and saying he must be removed from the army. There was even a suggestion that he should be expelled from the Party.

  Giving Moscow no time to intervene, the leaders in Ningdu dismissed Mao on the spot from his army post, although in deference to Moscow’s orders not to impair Mao’s public image, the troops were told that he was “temporarily returning to the central government to chair everything.” Moscow was told that Mao had gone to the rear “owing to sickness.”

  During the conference, Mao cabled Shanghai twice from Ningdu, which was clearly an attempt to enlist Moscow’s help. But Ewert, Moscow’s man in Shanghai, who had also lost patience with Mao, chose to report to Moscow by courier, not cable, so the news of Mao’s dismissal did not reach Moscow until the conference was over. Ewert found himself having to explain his failure to save Mao to Moscow. The “decision … to remove and criticise” Mao had been taken “without prior agreement with us” and Ewert said he disagreed with it: “a decision like this [should not] be taken without exhausting all other possibilities …” Although “there is no doubt whatever that … Mao Tse-tung is wrong … friendly persuasion must be used with Mao.”

  Moscow ordered the CCP: “Regarding your differences with comrade Mao Tse-tung, we repeat: Try to win him for the line of active struggle in a comradely way. We are against recalling Mao Tse-tung from the army at the present time if he submits to discipline.” On 2 November, Stalin was asked “urgently” for his opinion. Mao’s colleagues were then told to explain why they had pushed Mao out of the army. Moscow criticized Mao’s critics, and praised Chou’s gentle handling.

  Russian backing came too late for Mao, who had left Ningdu on 12 October, his post as army commissar taken by Chou. Mao never forgave his opponents at Ningdu, and they were later made to pay, some of them dearly. The main butt of Mao’s resentment was Chou, even though he had tried to safeguard Mao, the reason being that he ended up with Mao’s job. In later life, Chou made more than 100 self-denunciations, and the fiercest self-flagellation was reserved for Ningdu. Forty years later, as prime minister, in spring 1972, right after being diagnosed with cancer of the bladder and in the middle of extremely demanding negotiations with the US, Japan and many other countries (at which he greatly impressed his foreign interlocutors), Chou was made to perform one groveling apology after another to groups of high officials. One topic that kept recurring was Ningdu.

  CONFIDENT THAT HE mattered to Moscow, Mao adamantly refused to go and do his job in Ruijin, and went instead to “convalesce” in Tingzhou, where the former missionary Hospital of the Gospel provided the best medical care in the Red area (before Mao had it moved to Ruijin). He stayed in a sumptuous two-story villa which had formerly belonged to a rich Christian and had been commandeered for the Red elite. Cradled in a wooded hill and encircled on both levels by spacious loggias carved in dark wood, the villa afforded shade and breeze ideal for the southern heat, as well as scent and beauty from the orange trees and banana leaves in the subtropical garden.

  From this elegant villa, Mao ran a competing HQ. He summoned various followers, and told them not to stand and fight when they came under attack from the Nationalists, but to evacuate front-line areas. The attitude he encouraged his coterie to adopt towards Party orders was: “carry them out if they suit you, and ignore them if they don’t.”

  In January 1933, Po Ku, the 25-year-old who had been running the Party office in Shanghai (and who had just urged his colleagues at Ningdu to dump Mao), arrived in the Ruijin base. Po Ku was fourteen years Mao’s junior, and had only been in the Party seven years. He was extremely bright, and impressed Edgar Snow as having a mind “very quick and as subtle as, and perhaps more supple than Chou En-lai’s.” He spoke good Russian and English, and knew Moscow’s ways, having trained there for three and a half years (1926–30). Above all, he was exceptionally decisive, a quality much appreciated by his comrades, most of whom were exasperated by Chou, who was seen as far too accommodating towards Mao. Even though Po Ku was much younger and less experienced, the majority voted for him to take over the Party chair from Chou, who retained command of the military. Chou let this happen, as he had no thirst for personal power, nor did he yearn to be No. 1. In fact, he rather seems to have welcomed there being somebody above him.

  Po was incensed by what Mao had been doing, and decided to act at once, as Ruijin faced an imminent onslaught from Chiang. In addition, Po was receiving a lot of other complaints about Mao. Peng De-huai described Mao as “a nasty character” who “had insulted” Zhu De. He “likes to stir up squabbles,
” Peng said. “Mao’s methods are very brutal. If you do not submit to him, he will without fail find ways to make you submit. He does not know how to unite the cadres.”

  Po’s hands, however, were tied. When he left Shanghai, Moscow’s agent Ewert had told him bluntly that he absolutely had to work with Mao. But this injunction did not extend to Mao’s followers, and here Po took action. From February 1933 on, a string of Mao’s acolytes — all low-level, including Mao’s brother Tse-tan — was criticized in the press, though only the top few knew that Mao was the real target, and his reputation among the rank and file was carefully preserved. Moreover, Po did not use Mao’s killer methods. Although the language was high-decibel (“smash into smithereens,” “cruelly struggle”), Mao’s followers were treated as comrades who had erred, not as “enemies,” and some were allowed to retain important posts.

  Po Ku was able to dismantle Mao’s separate chain of command, and unite the Party to fight Chiang, with great success. For the first time, the Red Army defeated the Generalissimo’s crack troops in battles involving tens of thousands of men. Chiang’s latest annihilation expedition folded in March 1933.

  DURING THIS FOURTH campaign, Chiang had to fight the Reds against the background of a deepening national crisis. In February 1933 the Japanese had thrust out of Manchuria across the Great Wall into north China proper, threatening Peking. That same month the Japanese set up a puppet state called Manchukuo in the northeast.

  Ruijin also won this fourth campaign thanks to great help from the Soviet Union, which had just restored diplomatic relations with Chiang, in December 1932. Restoring formal ties allowed Russia to get more intelligence officers back into China under diplomatic and press cover, to help the Chinese Communists. The Russian military attaché, GRU Major-General Eduard Lepin, played a central role, as he regularly saw Chiang and top Nationalist officers, and could pass high-level up-to-date information to the Chinese Red Army, also acting as liaison between it and the military advisory group for the CCP in Moscow. Moscow’s secret military advisers in China also had a big hand in the war. When Mao later met one of them, the German Communist Otto Braun (the only one who got through to Ruijin), Mao paid him a compliment. After Mao greeted him “with stiff formality,” Braun recorded, “Mao acknowledg[ed] the successful counter-offensive … in the winter of 1932–33. He said he knew that the impetus for it came from me …”