Nanking. December 1937.

 

I was nineteen. I remember the air was frigid that day. Although the windows were closed, the wind blew in through the slits, causing me to shiver slightly. I had wrapped the loose wool cardigan tightly around me, as I shuffled to and fro, following Doctor Cho around, as he tended to each patient. We had both been working for seven hours straight, but I had no urge to rest. It was his last day on duty and I wanted to be by his side.

 

Outside, the scene was devastating. There were no words to describe the extent of the atrocities that the Japanese had committed, but the decaying corpses that were strewn across the street, the pungent odor, the smoke, the deafening sound of bombs followed by cries of people, the machine guns, the scarlet red of the Yangtze River, and the sharp shiver of fear that went down one’s spine… these all painted a picture of my hometown after the Japanese had massacred it.

 

It seemed impossible, but more and more patients and corpses alike were piling up at the doorsteps of our hospital, the only one in the Safety Zone, with every passing day. The three doctors and all the nurses were overworked and with Doctor Cho’s departure, there would be even less time to rest. Our only surgeon, Doctor Wilson*, had begged Doctor Cho to stay, but his wife and daughter were waiting for him in Hong Kong, so he must go.

 

I looked pitifully at the dark circles under his eyes.

 

“Doctor, you need to rest,” I touched his arm slightly, despite knowing he would refuse due to the guilt he felt for leaving us behind.

 

He turned to me, his eyes crinkling and I knew there was a gentle smile hidden underneath that mask, and said, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

 

“But you’ve been working for seven hours straight.”

 

“So have you.”

 

“Doctor Fitch can replace –“

 

“Surgical sutures please – this patient needs his wound stitched up.”

 

I complied without another word, as I saw the gushing wound across the patient’s chest. This man was no doubt another victim of a Japanese soldier’s bayonet – we had treated more than twenty that day. When I reached the small storage room and rummaged for a new box of surgical sutures, I felt worried. The amount of patients we had was draining our medical supplies; the surgical sutures were also disappearing quickly.

 

“We don’t have a lot of these left,” I handed him a fresh one.

 

“Wilson and I have been keeping count,” he nodded, “I promise to find ways to deliver more medical supplies here once I reach Hong Kong.”

 

“The Japanese will take it for sure even if the supplies are passed through the embassies,”

 

“I’ll try my best,” he insisted.

The patient groaned in pain, as Doctor Cho began to stitch his wound. I winced slightly, as I whispered soothing words into his ears. The man grabbed my hand and held it as tightly as he could, mumbling senseless words and crying.

 

Suddenly, a chilling scream was heard outside. It was a woman’s.

 

“Wait,” Doctor Cho’s hand shot out to grab my arm when I got up to see what was happening. “Stay here, someone else will go.”

 

I looked around. All the foreign nurses who had received medical training were in the operation room with Doctor Wilson and everyone else was off duty. I saw the concern in his eyes and my heart trembled a little.

 

“No one else is free, I’m sure it’s nothing.” I assured and went outside.

 

I wish I had listened, because what I saw outside was definitely something. Three Japanese soldiers were openly one of our young, female patients in the courtyard. She was bleeding profusely and was crying while one of them devils was on top of her, . I could hear my heart beating loudly and felt the hot blood rushing into my head. Before I knew what I was doing, I ran towards them.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I screamed in Chinese, pointing at the Red Cross flag at the hospital door. “This is American property, please give some respect!”

 

One of them looked at me and before I knew it, I was slapped across the face and was pushed towards the ground. I felt my uniform being ripped open, as one of the soldiers hovered over me. It was then when I knew I made a huge mistake. As a Chinese nurse, I had no immunity or protection that was given to foreigners. Although I worked in the hospital in the Safety Zone, I was still just a Chinese in the eyes of the Japanese.

 

I kicked and thrashed, but he was too heavy. I felt my arms being pinned to the floor before another blow hit my face.

 

“Stop!” I heard – it was Doctor Cho.

 

My body felt lighter, as he pushed the Japanese off me. I felt him desperately getting a hold of my hand and pulling me up when I heard several shots being fired.

 

“NO!” I screamed, as I saw Doctor Cho suddenly going limp. I struggled to crawl over to him, but a soldier stepped on my hand, causing me to moan in pain. He applied more and more pressure on his foot and I looked up at him desperately. He was laughing – looking down on my pathetic state and my pathetic savior. I was so angry, but there was nothing I could do to wipe that smirk off his face.

 

“ you,” I said in Japanese defiantly.

 

He stared at me in shock and then the anger began to sound in his system. He called to the other soldiers and he flung his pistol to my face, ready to shoot.

 

“Stop! How dare you?!” It was Doctor Wilson. He was storming down the steps of the hospital with Fitch, the other foreign doctor.

“Americans,” the Japanese soldiers muttered.

 

“You can’t do this here!” Doctor Wilson insisted, looking strong and unwavering, as he approached the armed Japanese soldiers, who had already began to dress frantically. They spoke quickly to each other and before anyone could react, they backed away and walked out of the courtyard. They dared to shoot at Doctor Cho, because he was Korean – an inferior Asian*, but there was no way they would shoot at a few foreigners at once. It would risk international opposition.

 

“Doctor Cho!” Doctor Wilson immediately knelt down beside the wounded man.

 

The nurses came running out, wrapping blankets around my and the other woman’s freezing body. I was chattering and shivering uncontrollably – not from the cold, but from the undeniable heartache and fear. A few tried to usher me back into the hospital and I remember not complying even as they tried to carry me away. I was only staring at Doctor Cho, who was lying motionless with Doctor Wilson and Fitch beside him.

 

“How is he?” My voice cracked slightly, as I tried to form words through my silent sobbing.

 

Without a word, both doctors carried him into the hospital and onto a bed. When I managed to hobble into the room, he was already wrapped in some blankets with water being fed into his dry mouth. As I approached, everyone else left, leaving me alone with him. Seeing as he was not taken to the operation room immediately, I knew there was no hope. He was going to die soon.

 

“I’m so sorry,” I managed to utter, holding his shaking hand in mine.

 

“D-Don’t be,” He said softly.

 

Tears were cascading down my face like a waterfall. My vision was so blurry and I could not form coherent words. It was too much, just too much. I had robbed him of his chance to meet up with his beloved family. He had wanted to see his daughter and he was so close… but because of me…

 

He lifted his hand, grunting slightly with effort, and tried to wipe away my tears. I grasped his hand and pressed my cheek into it. With his thumb, he slightly caressed my lips, touching them gently.

 

“I-I don’t r-regret it. I…can’t let them do that to y-you…. N-not you.”

 

“Why?” I whispered although I already knew the answer.

 

A tear slid down his face. “I stayed behind not only be-because I wanted to help. I s-stayed, because…of you.”

 

I cried harder. “But because of me, you can’t even go back now.”

 

“P-please… don’t… don’t cry.” He had a pained expression on his face and was breathing in tiny gasps. I knew his time was near.

 

I gripped his hand and before I could control myself, I bent down and gave him a gentle kiss. I felt him smile slightly, as he began to put pressure on my lips, kissing me back. Suddenly, he pushed me back with his arms with more strength than I thought he could muster and coughed, clasping his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. Blood slowly trickled down his mouth, staining his teeth and lips and gradually, his shirt and the blankets.

 

As he stopped, he collapsed back onto the bed, eyeing me lifelessly. Taking two more painful breaths, he smiled weakly once more, before exhaling with a relief. And with that, he was gone.

 

There are no words to describe how I felt then and how I continued to feel during the coming years of the war. For the longest times, these painful memories of war existed dangerously close to the surface, always threatening to resurface and destroy. The Second Sino-Japanese War took away many things that I cared so much about, but it was the Nanking Massacre that stripped me of my life. I was nothing without my family, my friends and most importantly, my love.

 

 

 

*Based on a real person, Robert Wilson, who was the only surgeon in Nanking during the Nanking Massacre.
*An inferior Asian in their eyes, because the Japanese occupied Korea at the time.

 

Author's note: Inspired by the tales of victims and survivors of the Nanking Massacre.