Last week China had two firsts: her people went to the polls in a national election, and her currency dived to a new low —it now took more than $100,000 (Chinese) to equal $1 (U.S.) The two events, one symbolic of hope and the other of despair, were intimately connected in Chinese minds, in world politics and in the U.S. conscience.
Missing Words. The U.S. was involved because, sensibly or not, it had insisted upon Chinese reforms before further aid. U.S. Lieut. General Albert C. Wedemeyer had made that condition painfully clear to all Chinese last summer, though at first most of Nationalist China had read a far different significance into the Wedemeyer visit. They thought it implied, at last, U.S. readiness to help. Their morale soared. Their dollar had steadied at about 45,000 to one U.S.
But by last week, the dramatic Chinese achievement of holding the promised elections in the midst of economic and military crisis had not been matched by any such dramatic action on the U.S. side. Before taking off for the German treaty talks in London, U.S. Secretary of State Marshall had indeed promised certain limited aid—beginning next April. But to the Chinese, the absence of moral support drained much of the political effect from the promise. Every U.S. dollar was cut in value because the grudging tone of U.S. promises encouraged the Reds and discouraged the Nationalists.
Missing Territory. As winter set in, China's northeast (Manchuria) was more than nine-tenths gone already. The columns of Communist General Lin Piao were pulling back a few dozen li after a punishing six-week offensive there. The Communists had not attempted to storm cities like Mukden and Changchun. They had been satisfied with attrition and wreckage. Along 150 miles of Manchuria rail lines they had warped rails to uselessness over bonfires of railroad ties. They had carted away the Manchuria harvest, disrupted coal and electricity supplies. The winter of 1947-48 would be bitter in Mukden and Changchun.
In North China, too, the Communists now held most of the territory, as well as unquestioned military initiative. Last week they were moving on Paoting, 90 miles from Peiping.
The Communists had even cracked south into Central China, after giving the bonfire treatment to long stretches of the vital Lunghai railway. One-eyed Communist General Liu Po-cheng and some 100,000 men were snug in the rugged Tapieh hills, just northeast of Hankow—a constant menace to the Yangtze valley.
Hofei X 1,000. After a trip up the valley last week, TIME Correspondent Frederick Gruin reported:
"The suburbs and walls of Hofei bristle with defense works Chinese style. Mud-brick pillboxes, screened with briars and entwining tree branches, flank the gates at every compass point. Behind the barricades is fear and hate.
"At Liuan there is the memory of one of Liu's raids. In 16 days of occupation the Communists milked the area: 20,000 bags of rice, 6,000 bolts of cloth, 800 drums of kerosene, piles of padded winter garments, all paid for in I.O.U.s marked 'Democratic Hsien Government.' Impressed barrow-men and mule carts lugged the loot into the hills. Wherever young men were found, they were carried off as 'recruits.' "