Chungking’s Wartime Attractions
A photo in a rickshaw seems to have been a requirement for every GI who served in China during World War II. Here Sgt. James H. (“Hank”) Mills (right/front) takes a ride with TSgt. Ewell F. Wilkerson (left/rear). Since SSgt. John P. Barge usually accompanied them on trips into Chungking, he may have been the photographer, although it was taken in front of the Ru Ru Photo Co., according to the sign behind them. J. H. Mills collection
In late 1944, as 3rd and 4th Bomb Squadron detachments constituting Task Force 34 were proving their worth against the enemy on missions out of Chihkiang (now Zhijiang), personnel still at Peishiyi (Baishiyi) had more free time on their hands than they were prepared to endure. Their inactivity was the result of persistent foul weather and gas shortages that kept the planes grounded and limited operations to near zero.
Some of the officers organized activities intended to distract the men from their dreary routine and provide some sense of purpose. Lt. Col. Austin J. Russell, 1st Bomb Group executive officer, organized softball teams in the two bomb squadrons and Group headquarters in an attempt to boost morale. Games were usually played on Wednesday afternoons, when the men were given a half day off, and on Sunday afternoons. Maj. Archie H. McGray, Group intelligence officer, conducted orientation for new aircrew personnel recently assigned to the 3rd and 4th Squadrons as November drew to a close. "As always with new personnel, they are eager to get in their lick at the enemy," wrote the 1st Bomb Group historical officer, 1Lt. Howard T. Chenoweth.
Movie nights continued to provide a welcome diversion, and Swing Fever starring Kay Kaiser was one of the "picture shows" that the men enjoyed. A break in the weather permitted five planes into the air for formation flying on the November 11―the first time that month. The film for the following evening was Government Girl starring Olivia De Havilland. A three-ball alert was called at 2314. The all clear was given after an hour and six minutes, allowing the tired men to return to their beds.
To escape the monotony of existence at Peishiyi, situated about thirteen air miles northwest of Chungking (Chongqing), many of the men made the grueling trip into the city. Perched on mountainous terrain at the confluence of the Chialing (Jialing) and Yangtze Rivers, Chungking had been heavily bombed earlier in the war. Evidence could still be seen in the "jerrybuilt" houses that gave it the appearance of "a vast sprawling slum.” Unbearably hot and humid in the summer and bitterly cold in the winter, it was reputed to have the worst climate of any city in the world. "For seven months of the year it is buried beneath a constant dirty fog with almost an unbroken drool of rain that covers the Yangtze river like an evil pall," reported a war-time visitor. Yet the city held attractions to the men stationed at Peishiyi whose interest had little to do with the weather forecast.
The trip from Peishiyi to Chungking was usually accomplished via weapons carrier over thirty miles of “rutted and pitted”, switch-back mountain roads. Fertile valleys far below that could be glimpsed from under the canvas cover did not quite atone for the “teeth-rattling misery of the ride,” and the “over-crowded, war-torn, and pauperized town” was a disappointment, according to Maj. Don Hummel, Wing historical officer. The promise of steaks, ice cream, mixed cold drinks, and women provided the enticement to make the uncomfortable trip for the deprived and bored GI who was "tired of fried eggs and buffalo meat, tired of guzzling vodka in his monastic compound.”
Passes, carefully and judiciously portioned out among all personnel, were granted for overnight visits to Chungking, described in the 1st Bomb Group historical report. “A little town, only two torturous hours from Peishiyi, where is situated the war time capitol of China. A quaint town is Chungking with its little rickshaw pullers to haul the heavy Americans around. There we can get our fill of Ice Cream (at a price of course) (costing 900N [Nationalist dollars] or the equivalent of $2.25 at the legal rate of exchange or almost $ .50 at the rate that is obtainable at the Black Market).” An excellent dinner of steak and French fried potatoes was also available to visitors, as well as fresh fruits that included watermelons, apples, pears, peaches, plums and bananas if they looked hard enough, he wrote. “Oh yes, and then the best part of it is we can get ice cold drinks. Ice in our drinks of lemon soda and Vodka! That and the Ice Cream is worth that long, dirty and tiresome ride from Peishiyi to Chungking.”
Hank related an incident involving the rickshaw boys in town. "I remember one time in Chungking, coolies were pulling a rickshaw and had a big man in there.” Because of the passenger’s size, it took three of them to pull him. They started laughing and calling him da biza, meaning "big nose,” Hank recalled with a grin. "And they were laughing at that man they said was 'big nose'—da biza.” The term was used not only to describe a facial feature of abnormally-large size but also as a humorous reference to a foreigner. The big GI had less appreciation for the joke since he had no understanding of Mandarin, but Hank laughed at the humor of it decades afterward.
Some of the men from his squadron "went out on the town" and "went to the places where the girls were.” He explained simply, "I didn't. I was married.” Typical of all towns in close proximity to military installations, Chungking had a thriving red light district, and many GIs made the long, miserable trip to go "catting.” Considered to be slightly less sordid than the typical row of dirty huts where the "you-say-how-much girls" plied their trade were the bath houses, where GIs could satisfy their sanitary requirements as well as their hormonal urges. Each basement room of the bath houses had not only a large tub, but also a narrow bed. After scrubbing the back of her client, the prostitute retired with him to the bed to complete the transaction.
Hummel wrote that those who did not go "catting" generally divided their time between the Victory House, where they could obtain meals in a patio at awninged tables, or they could sit on tall stools at a little bar inside the Sino-American Club that similarly provided a restaurant, reading room, and a dormitory. At the Sing Sing, GIs could enjoy ice cream (more nearly resembling sherbets or ices) of whatever flavor happened to be on hand, and tall, cool glasses of orange juice were also available. The Russian Café, across from the Sing Sing, was a basement restaurant set in a courtyard back from the street where customers could order thick, juicy steaks for a reasonable price, although a cup of coffee cost the same as a filet mignon. The Friends of the Allied Forces was a hostel that provided "clean sleeping quarters, a neat restaurant, an expansive, rather elaborate courtyard with a stage from which occasionally movies, concerts, and programs of interest to Chinese and Americans were given.”
The Chialing House, which took its name from one of Chungking's rivers that intersects the Yangtze, was probably the most sumptuous hotel that the GIs visited in the city. Its bar featured a larger selection of liquors and mixed drinks than any other night spot in Chungking. It also served excellent food. An added attraction was that it was a favorite among white women who were employees of the embassies perched high on the South Bank near the headquarters of Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek. Other than these, who were in great demand, stateside women in the area consisted almost exclusively of Army nurses, Red Cross workers, and missionaries.
"Two men that I was friends with, we went out together some,” Hank remembered. He had been friends with SSgt. John P. Barge and TSgt. Ewell F. Wilkerson since they began working together at Malir, and the three often planned outings together to break the monotony of camp life whenever they had the opportunity. It was during this period of inactivity that they decided to go into town. Hank described the outing: "I remember, one day Wilkerson, Barge, and me, it was outside of Chungking, and there was a mountain between Chungking and this base where we were, and we decided to go to Chungking to get something to eat.” Rather than taking the long trip by weapons carrier, they hired coolies to convey them by sedan chair. "And those coolies had carriers with long poles with a man on each end—a man with a long pole on each side with a seat in the middle—and they carried us from there across a mountain to Chungking. And they'd walk these—kind of a little levy between the rice paddies, and we'd be up there.” He described the coolies who carried the sedan chairs as "nothing but just looked like muscles, just skin and muscle, and they carried us over that mountain and down to Chungking, and they did that all for pennies.” Hank and his buddies enjoyed their meal, "and of course, we had to ride back with some more coolies that had us on those seats.”
Hank retained clear memories of his visits to town: "I used to see dog hides nailed up on the side of the houses. They ate dog or cat. You'd be walking down the street and see someone coming and think they had a couple of cats in their arms. It wasn't a couple of cats. It was a couple of cats'-hide gloves. Cats were valuable. They kept a string tied around their necks tied to a chair or the table. They didn't run loose. They were rat catchers.”
Cats were pampered and often lived much better than some humans. In Chungking, a full-grown cat was worth $2,500 CN or more each, according to a service publication. "They were so scarce that a peddler with a basket-cage or two full of snarling, spitting beasts sells them all in a street or two of walking." In the daytime, the owner of a cat kept it tied near him on a long, heavy string to prevent it from being stolen or from wandering away. At night it was free to wander around the locked-up house to "do its duty against rats.”
Most of the men, after making the arduous trip to Chungking a few times, chose to return only rarely or not at all. The shops were generally poorly stocked and unimpressive, and prices were scandalously out of proportion to the worth of the goods available. The GIs had ridden in the rickshaws and bought their souvenirs, and they had made the rounds of the restaurants, bars, and whatever other attractions that appealed to them. After having satisfied their curiosity, many chose to remain thereafter at Peishiyi.
There is far more to this story. Read it all in The Spray and Pray Squadron: 3rd Bomb Squadron, 1st Bomb Group, Chinese-American Composite Wing in World War II!