Nearly 112, Dong Jimin joined the Chinese resistance soon after the September 18th Incident in 1931. (Photo by ZOU HONG/CHINA DAILY)
Editor's note: Almost 85 years ago, the Japanese army engineered the September 18th Incident near Shenyang, Liaoning province, and launched an invasion of Northeast China. This was followed by a full-scale invasion, triggering the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression (1937-45). Three veterans of the war, with a combined age of more than 300 years, spoke to our reporter and recounted what it was like to take up arms against the invaders.
Zhang Daqian has had a remarkable life, not the least in its longevity. He is a carpenter who experienced the horrors of war, survived, and now, at more than a century old, the 102-year-old reflects on a life rich in experience beyond the imagination of many.
Working with wood, he said, required a calculated approach, be it shaving or crafting the piece, being careful not to waste any and knowing when to stop. "But none of these 'calculations' compare to the one I made decades ago, on the battlefield in Shanxi, in northern China," he said.
That was in 1943, six years into China's War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression (1937-45). Zhang, an artillerist, in fact the only artillery specialist in his squad in China's Nationalist Army, found himself face to face with an enemy soldier.
"This may sound surreal today, but it was just him and me. We were separated by about 100 meters－both armies had been dispersed by all the fighting, I suppose. I had a gun, with one bullet left. And from where I stood, behind some low earthworks, I could clearly see that he was also holding a gun."
Zhang had to think quickly－his life depended on it.
"We stared at each other for a few seconds. Then I told myself, 'Don't panic. He has only one bullet.' How did I know? Because if he had two, he would have shot me," he said. "I took off my military cap, put it on a stick, which I thrust skyward."
The Japanese soldier, probably too nervous to see and think clearly, fired. The bullet hit the cap. "I guess he thought the cap was me. It took him two seconds to realize his mistake," Zhang said. "And off he fled. I didn't fire."
These days, with both his wife and only son having passed away, Zhang is living a quiet, if not lonely, existence in Pingdingshan, Henan province. Still agile, he cooks for himself, something unthinkable for most people his age. From time to time, his nephew, Zhao Jianguo, visits. "My uncle doesn't even remember the number of times bombs and shells exploded near him," Zhao said.
Zhao told of one particular moment when his uncle's life hung in the balance.
Zhang and his squad were overwhelmed by the enemy, Zhao said.
"When the fighting ended, a team of Japanese soldiers came to inspect the battleground. My uncle, too feeble to run, hid himself under the body of a fellow Chinese soldier," he said. "He was lying there, immobile. Then all of a sudden, a bayonet went through the dead body on top before stabbing my uncle in his right leg."
The pain was overwhelming, but Zhang remained still and did not utter a sound. The Japanese soldiers left, sure in their minds that all the Chinese soldiers had been killed. Later, under cover of darkness, Zhang fled into the mountains and tried to stop the bleeding with his limited knowledge of Chinese herbal medicine. He survived and later rejoined the army.
