Original subtitles

I think everyone is here.

If you'd all please take your seats, we can get started.

George Fitch, Christmas Eve, Nanking, China, 1937.

What I am about to relate is a story which I feel must be told, even if it is

seen by only a few.

I cannot rest until I have told it, and perhaps fortunately I am one of a very

few who are in a position to tell it.

It is not complete, only a part of the whole, and God alone knows when it will

be finished.

I pray it may be soon.

but I am afraid it is going to go on for many months to come.

I believe it has no parallel in modern history.

Bob Wilson.

When I was born and grew up here in China, my parents were both

I went away to medical school at Harvard, but I came back here to live

practice medicine.

Nanking is my home.

Minnie Vatron, Dean of Jingling Women's College in Nanking.

I'm from Secor, Illinois, a small farming town on the prairie.

John Robert.

I moved to China from Hamburg on business over 30 years ago.

I married my childhood sweetheart from Germany and we raised our two children

here.

For the last six years, I've been director of Siemens, China company here

Nanking, the capital.

Nanjing is beautiful.

It has a big lake.

Nanjing is a big park in the city.

At that time, there was a lot of traffic in France. The roads were very

beautiful.

Nanjing is very peaceful.

Life is very good.

We don't have to worry about anything.

When I was young, I didn't know what... I didn't know what poverty was.

Anyway, I was quite happy to have a school.

of Time newsreel, August 1937.

Today, out of the Far East come grim messages of a new conflict.

The gory chronicle of Japan's war to crush all China.

Again, for herself, sole mastery of the Orient.

Shanghai tastes war at its worst.

For in a war of today, there is a new element.

A fearsome, haphazard modern fighting that takes its toll on peaceful cities

their non -competent populations.

We always knew Japan wanted China.

I knew it since I was little. My parents always said Japan wants to conquer

China because we have all the land and all the wealth, and we were right next

door.

Everywhere dugouts can be seen.

Some places, they are as close as every 200 feet.

Just as you would show your rose garden to your friends when they call, now it's

customary to take your friends to your trenches and caves to ask their opinion.

Today we had a genuine thrill.

The first air raid that any of us had ever experienced probably won't be the

last.

I don't know.

. . . . .

It was very hot.

It was like a hot spring.

Oh, I can't get up.

The plane came down. I saw a bomb coming down.

The bomb hit the water.

Bang!

All the people up there were gone.

All of them fell down together. They didn't speak a word. I cried my eyes

I called my dad and my mom.

I called them.

My father called my name everywhere to look for me.

When I heard this voice, I was familiar with it. When I heard this voice, I was

familiar with it.

When I heard this voice, I was familiar with it. When I heard this voice, I was

familiar with it. When I heard this voice, I was familiar with it. When I

this voice, I was familiar with it.

During the worst of the bombing on the 19th and 20th of September, I sat with

Chinese and our homemade duck out, which is certainly not bomb -proof, but at

least provides protection against shrapnel and bomb fragments.

Out in the garden, we have also spread a 20 by 20 foot piece of canvas with a

swastika painted on it.

In the long hours of crouching in the dugout during the recent bombardment, I

turned on Radio Shanghai to take my mind off things with a little music.

And they were playing Beethoven's Funeral March.

Then, to make matters worse, they announced to their listeners, this music

kindly dedicated to you by the Shanghai Funeral Directors.

Most of the shops on the business streets are locked.

And the city has a deserted and forlorn look.

The glances cast at me as much as they... What? Are you still here?

September 25th. This has been a terrible day.

Bombs seemed to be raining around.

Nanking was subjected to three terrific air raids.

The count of raids and alarms has now risen to 39.

Gallons of civilian blood flowed today.

Under such circumstances, can I?

May I cut and run?

I don't think so.

Anyone who has ever sat in a dugout and held a trembling Chinese child in each

hand through the long hours of an air raid can understand what I feel.

The rich are fleeing.

The poor remain behind.

They don't know where to go.

They don't have the means to flee.

Aren't they in danger of being slaughtered in great numbers?

Shouldn't one make an attempt to help them?

There's a question of morality here, and so far I haven't been able to sidestep

it.

Zero.

Tuesday evening, we took our entire hospital staff to Shakwan Station, where

about 1 ,200 Chinese soldiers lay around.

We found the soldiers scattered thickly at the station.

Some men were in great agony.

One of the men had his leg shot off up near the hip.

The wound had not been attended. The odor of his flesh, I can never, never

forget.

When I reached home, I first washed with Lysol and then soap, but the odor still

remained. I used cold cream and then later perfume, but all day today I am

conscious of it.

At 9 p .m., a letter came by special messenger from the embassy.

They are asking all men and women to evacuate Nanking.

It was a very clear, emphatic statement.

Standing offshore from the doomed city of the United States gunboat Panay, of

the Yankee patrol, fleeing from the beleaguered city, a number of Americans

others arrive at the riverside, hoping to get aboard the Panay.

Diplomats representing the United States government pack important state papers

and head for the Panay in cars prominently marked with the American

I personally feel that I cannot leave.

Men are not asked to leave their ships when they are in danger, and women are

not asked to leave their children.

If Americans leave, a great many of the Chinese would go also.

The hospital would have to close or be operated by military authorities.

One can't help feeling that leaving right now would be passing up an

for service of the highest kind.

At 1 .30 this afternoon, I drove to Chung Chang Wharf.

After a brief goodbye to the passengers, I take the launch, which is honking

impatiently now, back to shock one.

My last bridge is burned.

The city is practically deserted now, except for the poor, who have no place

go.

This morning after the service began, the warning siren sounded.

The pastor asked, shall we continue or go to a dugout? One man said, continue.

And we did so.

Life is real.

Life is earnest these days.

Slowly the heavy bombers drew near.

When the bombing could be plainly heard inside the city, the pastor stopped

preaching and asked us all to pray silently for peace.

The Chinese appear to regard Shanghai as the main theater of war because

Shanghai protects Nanking.

But for how long?

Signal to the world the final chapter of the greatest war drama yet filmed.

The actual fall of Shanghai.

You can't do that. You can't do that.

You can't do that.

You can't do that.

At 10am, the order came.

Regiment is to pursue enemy towards Nanking.

All troops are to be ready immediately.

General Matsui said Nanking is the capital of China, and our capturing of

will be an international event.

With General Matsui's principle in mind, we began immediately to make our plans.

From the Tokyo Nichi Nichi newspaper, reported on the road to Nanking, there

two young commissioned officers who have undertaken a contest to cut down 100

with their swords.

It is said that one man has already killed 56 men, and the other has killed

When we reporters came upon the two of them conferring, Second Lieutenant Mukai

said, With things going like this, I'll probably cut down a hundred by the time

we reach Danyang. Never mind Nanking.

You're going to lose. My sword has killed 55 and it's only got one little

on it.

Second Lieutenant Noda responded, By the time you're in Danyang, I'll show you

what kind of a record I can rack up.

Every time we seize a village on the way to Nanking, newly commissioned officers

will test their swords on the defeated Chinese soldiers.

When you behead someone, you need to use a strong stroke, so you raise the sword

high and break it down with force.

The head falls and blood flies straight up like a red pillar of fire.

There's an officer I know who always bragged about killing people.

He would tie the wrists and ankles with rope so that a person to be beheaded

wouldn't be able to stand or stretch his legs.

Everyone copied his style.

Tonight's news, none too good.

Conditions look bad.

Rumors and unrest.

Word is the Japanese are approaching from three directions.

Over and over again I am struck by the similarity of Jesus' day and today in

China.

Three other missionaries and I spent an hour and a half today trying to see what

Christians can do in this present situation.

Are we to stand by hopelessly, or is there something we can do? And if so,

Telegram we sent to the Japanese ambassador.

An international committee composed of nationals of Denmark, Germany, Great

Britain, and the United States desires to suggest to the Chinese and Japanese

authorities the establishment of a safety zone for civilian refugees at or

Nanking. The committee would respectfully request a prompt reply from

Japanese authorities to this proposal.

We will bear tremendous responsibility if we first order the remaining populace

of Nanking into the neutral zone and then later are turned down by the

To our surprise...

The big -hearted German who had elected chairman turned out to be the National

Socialist leader here.

I continue to hope that Hitler will help us.

He has deep sympathy not only for the distress of his own people, but for the

anguish of the Chinese as well. So now it turns out that the burden of work is

to be carried out by a group of American missionaries and a group of German Nazi

businessmen.

At 2 .30, as I walk down Shanghai Road...

Again and again, I met groups of women and children in search of the safety

zone. I told them that it was not yet certain, but when it was, they would be

notified.

The safety zone is not yet assured.

Telegram to the United States Embassy.

Japanese authorities have duly noted requests for a safety zone, but regret

cannot grant it.

According to radio reports, London regards this reply as a flat -out

We offer different opinion here.

Their answers cleverly couched in the diplomatic terms, leaving a back door

open.

Mayor Ma virtually turned over to us.

administrative responsibilities for the zone, along with a police force of 450

men, 2 ,000 tons of rice, 10 ,000 bags of flour, and some salt.

Since Mayor Ma left Nanking yesterday, and since the committee is forced to

with all the administrative problems and workings inside our safety zone,

haven't face of this become something very like an acting mayor?

Enough to give you a fit, rather.

The Japanese are now nearing the halfway mark from Shanghai, and we have already

heard the rumble of big guns.

Thousands of refugees are fleeing into our so -called safety zone from all

directions.

The sight of the poorest of the poor wandering aimlessly in the streets is

enough to make you weep.

As it grows dark, some families unable to find shelter anywhere stretch out to

sleep in nooks and alcoves of buildings or simply on the street, despite the

cold.

We are working feverishly to develop the zone.

We went over there.

The Chinese had a family.

We lived there.

At night, we drank a lot of wine.

We drank a lot of wine.

Around us here, we now have thousands of poor people crowded into all the

available buildings.

What will happen to them is mere conjecture.

The zone is all marked with flags and banners, and so far the Japanese have

bombed it.

We still have hopes that even if they do not recognize it, they might respect

it. If they do, it will mean the saving of thousands of lives of poor people.

Five air raids on Monday and one on Tuesday.

I'm writing this during our 61st.

Tonight, the flames are lighting the sky above the whole southwest corner of the

city.

And in the afternoon, we have seen clouds of smoke rising in every

save northwest.

It is quite a sensation to be the only surgeon in a big, war -torn city.

How can we leave the sick patients?

The Japs have now reached a point about 25 miles from the city.

Gunfire could be heard.

It won't be long now.

The city gates are to be closed tomorrow.

I sent a telegram to Siemens today asking them to pay up any life insurance

premiums that may be due.

If I were to say I was not afraid, I'd be lying.

The swift Japanese advance on the national capital make the vicinity of

a place of danger.

The Nipponese invaders strike westward with incredible speed.

The defenders bravely ignore a Japanese automaton calling on them to surrender.

If you're getting the same sort of radio reports that we are, you are

undoubtedly alarmed for our safety here.

But we're a little concerned ourselves.

Today's air raid brings our tally to 114.

The tally must come to a close as today was

one long air raid from morning till night.

I am writing this to the tune of big guns just outside of the city.

Japanese advance guards have reached the walls in several places.

Until about 1 p .m. December 10th, General Skada and I had been waiting

of Changsang Gate for the burial of the flag of truth from the Chinese army.

However, he never came.

For that reason, from about 2 p .m., a general attack was commenced against

Nanking.

Bells from Japanese guns commenced falling inside the city walls, and I

outside to watch them. They formed a perfect pattern, the explosions

in regular rows about 25 yards every half minute.

They were coming from outside the south gate, directly towards me.

Uninterrupted artillery fire from Purple Mountain.

Thunder and lightning around the hill.

And suddenly the whole hit is in flames.

An old adage says, when Purple Mountain burns,

Nanking is lost.

December 13th. I was in the middle of my service when the telephone rang and I

answered it.

I was asked to immediately go to the zone committee's headquarters.

The Japanese had broken into the city.

The wall had been breached and the damage to the southern part of the city

tremendous. No one will ever know what the Chinese casualties were, but they

must have been enormous.

Soldiers streamed through the city from the south, many of them passing through

the zone.

. . .

.

. .

. . . . . . . . . .

My brother cried and shouted, don't hit my mother, don't hit my mother. At this

time, my younger brother was hit by a ghost.

There was a ghost, and the little brother was crying.

The ghost hit my two brothers, and the little brother was crying. The little

brother's butt was high, and he jumped.

I saw my mother sleeping, and my head was stuck in the bamboo sheet.

.

.

. . .

. .

.

.

Mom, mom, mom, cry.

My brother is fine.

When I woke up, I started to shout.

I said, little dad, he heard my throat, and he fell over.

He tried his best to get close to me, to get close to me, but because it was

cold, the little shoes fell off, the two little shoes, the socks were gone, the

little shoes were red, and they were all wet.

This is when my mother looked at my little brother, when he came back,

My mother tried her best to put her hands up, put her clothes on, put on

clothes, put on your clothes, put on your clothes, put on your clothes, put

your clothes, put on your clothes, put on your clothes, put on your clothes,

on your clothes.

My mother gave me a hamburger and a snowman.

My younger brother didn't understand.

He kept getting up. The snowman was shaking.

I said, hurry up and get up. I'll dance with you.

I said, hang in there.

Hang in there.

You'll be fine. I'll dance with you.

But I can't talk to my mother.

I can't talk to her.

He fell and his head was cut off.

He didn't come back for a year.

I thought my mother might have died.

I called out, but she didn't come back.

I called out, but she didn't come back.

I thought my mother might have died.

I thought, what should I do?

In the morning, the fresh blood -colored flags of the rising sun were fluttering

everywhere, each proclaiming with its red symbol the freshly spilled blood of

Nun King.

Three dangers are past, that of looting soldiers, bombing from airplanes, and

shelling from big guns, but the fourth is still before us, our fate at the

of a victorious army.

I remember that there were

mountains

of corpses piled up high

in the mountains.

It's not until we tour the city that we learn the extent of the destruction.

We come across corpses every 100 or 200 yards.

The bodies of civilians that I examined had bullet holes in the backs.

These people had presumably been fleeing and were shot from behind.

I didn't even have a will.

I didn't want to give it to him. I didn't know.

Then we came out. Yao Yao didn't call. Yao Yao didn't call either. There was no

one to call.

Then he was... From that time, Mr. Na Bei, he was... He was called Ma Ji.

Ma Ji was photographed.

He was called Ma Ji at that time. He was sent to my house.

He was photographed at my house.

The last person to die was Qi Gu.

. . . .

.

From 8 .30 this morning until 6 this evening, I stood at the front gate of

Jingling College as the refugees poured in.

They disguised themselves in every possible way.

Many had cut their hair. Most of them had blackened their faces.

Many were wearing men or boys' clothing or even that.

of old women.

Nanking has no light, no water, no telephone, no telegraph, no city paper,

radio.

We are indeed separated from all of you by an impenetrable zone.

The Japanese march through the city in groups of 10 to 20 soldiers and loot the

shops. They smash open windows and doors and take whatever they like.

We run across a group of 200 Chinese workers whom Japanese soldiers have

up off the streets of the safety zone and after having been tied up are now

being driven out of the city.

At the last moment, thousands of Chinese soldiers threw away their uniforms and

equipment, looted civilian clothes, and crowded into the zone.

I had made up my mind to bury the Chinese soldiers' clothes.

They had been thrown onto the campus by the fleeing soldiers.

But when I got to the carpenter's shop, I could see that the gardeners were

wiser. They had burned them and thrown the grenades into a pond.

At headquarters, we found a mob of men outside that had been disarming.

About 1 ,300 in all.

We argued the Japanese would not shoot disarmed men, so we went to our staff

conference quite relieved.

We knew that there were a number of ex -soldiers among them, but Rabbe had been

promised by an officer that very afternoon that their lives would be

But in a half hour, we were called back.

The Japanese had come back for them.

The men were lined up and roped together in groups of about 100 by Japanese

soldiers with bayonets fixed.

I tried for hours to prevent the Japanese from marching these men out for

execution.

But I failed.

By the light of our headlights, we watched them march away to their doom.

Not a whimper came from the entire throng.

Our own hearts were led.

During this time, we really felt that we were contending with the powers of

evil. This memory will remain with me forever.

We could do nothing to avert this tragedy.

Japanese 6th Brigade, Operation Order 138.

Since the defeated enemy soldiers are believed to be in plain clothes, you

arrest any person who is suspected of being so.

regard every adult man up to middle age as a plain -clothed soldier.

There is no system.

Soldiers seize anyone they suspect.

Calluses on hands are proof the man is a soldier.

Rickshaw coolies, carpenters, and other laborers are frequently taken.

. . . . . . . .

I took moving pictures of a group of about 70 or so Chinese men being

on the road.

And in the picture, the women are kneeling before the Japanese, begging

their menfolk.

There were a lot of people in the factory. There were a lot of people.

There were a lot of people. There were a lot of people.

There were a

lot

of people.

How did you die? You just killed someone.

How did you die? That's the truth.

There were tens of thousands of soldiers protecting Nanjing.

There were tens of thousands of soldiers protecting Nanjing. There were tens of

thousands of soldiers protecting Nanjing.

There were tens of thousands of soldiers protecting Nanjing.

There were tens of thousands of soldiers protecting Nanjing. There were tens of

thousands of soldiers protecting Nanjing.

There were tens of thousands of soldiers protecting Nanjing. There were tens of

thousands of soldiers protecting Nanjing. I don't know.

It was

a

big place.

It was a big place.

Some of them died at the same time. Some of them died at the same time.

They were rescued.

They were too tired to kill in 15 days.

They couldn't kill anymore.

Later, they were burned to death by machine guns.

We were all dead.

We were all dead. We were all dead. We were all dead. We were all dead.

We were all dead.

We were all dead.

How many thousands were mown down by guns or bayoneted? We shall probably

know. But in many cases, oil was thrown over the bodies and they were burned.

Charred bones tell the story of many of those tragedies.

. .

. . . .

After the war, during the third year of the war, the soldiers

would come to the camp.

It would have been easier if it had been done in 2000 or 3000.

It didn't take more than 30 minutes.

Anyway, it was like a cannonball.

It was like a cannonball. It was like a cannonball.

It was like a cannonball.

It was like a cannonball.

I got a fine of 20 ,000 yen.

Some Japanese soldiers were fierce and unreasonable, and many of them had their

bayonets ready for use.

And on not a few of them, I saw fresh bloodstains.

There seems to be no stop to the ferocity of the brute.

At first I tried to be pleasant to them to avoid arousing their ire, but the

smile has gradually worn off and my stare is fully as cool and fishy as

A colonel and his staff called at my office and spent an hour trying to

where all the additional disarmed soldiers were.

They insisted that they were hiding within the zone and that we were

for concealing them.

This kid was sick, but no one held him.

They told him not to move, not to speak, and to move.

That's how they cared for each other.

The Japanese were afraid that the refugees would come.

They said, don't do anything.

Take our men.

Men, men, take a look.

Women, women, children, take a look.

In the middle, there was a Japanese, standing in the middle.

Then he took another man out of the men.

Miss Watran ran to us and begged us to claim someone.

She told us if we claimed a man, we would save a life.

As long as you had a relative, the Japanese would assume you were not a

There were two or three thousand young men, some soldiers, some not.

We each claimed someone.

All day I watched her running back and forth across Jinling in this work.

Sometimes one gets weary of spirit.

There is so much suffering.

So many in such difficult and impossible circumstances it makes one hopeless.

And when will it end?

I can see little indication of God in the tremendous wave of cruelty and greed

that has engulfed a big piece of our world.

I wish Emperor Hirohito could see the mangled bodies of these simple Chinese

common people which his spokesmen profess to love so much.

Or that I could carry some of the men and women with legs blown off into the

elegant parlors of the rich Americans who fatten on selling war supplies to

Japan. They would probably worry more about their rugs than about the wounded.

Religious faith is believing that good things are worth doing for their own

sake.

Even in a world that seems overpoweringly evil.

I remain assured in hard experience that neither by national guns nor by

national gods will mankind be saved.

But only by the genuine regard for all members of the human family.

God, comfort the heartbroken mothers and fathers of innocent sons who were shot

today.

And guard the young women and girls through the agonizing hours of this

be the day when war shall be no more.

In Nanking, we had time on our hands and nothing to do.

So we raped girls.

So I asked him to help me. I asked him

to help me.

I asked him to help me.

I asked him to help me.

I asked him to help me.

I asked him to help me.

I asked him to help me.

. .

.

. .

It's been a long time since I've seen you.

He was praising the long road, such a long road.

He pulled out the long road.

He cut off my sister's head.

He cut off my sister's head. In the future, we will find my sister's body

see it.

My sister's head was cut into two pieces.

She was cut into two pieces.

He said, if you fall down, I'll cut you off.

He cut me off with a knife.

He didn't want to kill my grandfather.

My grandfather said he was too young.

He said he couldn't do it.

He wanted to kill him.

He wanted to shoot him.

I said, I don't want to.

I said, I don't agree.

My grandfather died. My son died.

I asked my father -in -law to save me.

I asked my father -in -law to save me. I asked my father -in -law to save me. I

asked my father -in -law to save me.

I asked my father -in -law to save me.

I asked my father -in -law to save

me.

I cried.

I couldn't cry anymore.

I couldn't sign it. I was so confused.

I didn't want to come.

He left.

He said, my husband, my husband is here.

Hongzi, I told him, I said, you can't.

You can't.

My husband can't. He put my legs in the ice.

Slowly warm, slowly warm,

slowly warm, slowly warm my stomach.

Slowly warm, slowly warm, slowly warm.

My heart was beating so fast.

December 18th, Saturday.

All days seem alike now.

Went to gate at 7 .30.

A stream of weary, wild -eyed women were coming in.

Said their night had been one of horror.

That again and again their homes were visited by soldiers.

Twelve -year -old girls, sixty -year -old women, raped.

If only the thoughtful people of Japan knew the facts of these days of horror.

We had on the grounds of our college more than 10 ,000 women and children

refugees.

Every night the soldiers would enter our grounds to get the girls, and every

night Miss Vautrin would try to keep them from the girls.

It's seen in several homes near Westflower Gate.

The soldiers, failing to find young girls, are using teenage boys.

Tonight I asked George Fitch how the day went and what progress they had made.

And his reply was, it was hell today, the blackest day of my life.

Certainly, it was the same for me.

Tonight, a truck passed in which there were eight or ten girls.

And as it passed, they called, Joming!

Joming!

Save our lives.

Six Japanese climb over my garden wall and attempt to open my gates from the

inside. When I arrive and shine my flashlight in the face of one of them,

reaches for his pistol.

But his hand drops quickly enough when I yell at him and hold my swastika

armband under his nose.

Then, on my orders, all six have to scramble back over the wall.

My gates will never be open to a riffraff like that.

The doctor took him to the mountain road and took him

there.

He was taken to the state of Zhou.

He was taken to the state of Zhou. He was taken to the state of Zhou.

He was taken to the state of Zhou.

He was taken to the state of Zhou.

He was taken to the state of Zhou.

People don't believe it. How can a woman beat a dead man to death?

People don't believe it.

On the road, a woman who was about to die was called.

She was called to sleep with a woman.

We don't know where it was.

It was at Zhonghua Gate, Jing Gate. There was a bridge.

Every day we call at the Japanese Embassy and present our protests and

our reports of violence and crime.

For the kind attention of Mr.

Kiyoshi Fukui, Second Secretary, Japanese Embassy, dear sirs, we

are very sorry to trouble you again.

But the suffering and needs of 200 ,000 civilians of whom we are trying to care

make it urgent that we try to secure action from your military authorities to

stop present this order among Japanese soldiers wandering through the safety

zone.

Case number 15.

Japanese soldiers entered a house on Hankow Road, raped a young wife, and

away three women.

When two husbands ran, the soldiers shot both of them. Case number 154.

A girl, 13 years old, was raped by three Japanese soldiers at Chinja Jai No.

6. Case No. 290.

Four soldiers rape a young girl, a little over 10, by turns.

Fukuda and Tanaka of the Japanese Embassy had nothing to say, except

remark that the Army is very mad because they say it is the first time in

history that an Army had to conquer a place with neutral observers on hand.

Quite a false view.

but we felt it was not time to argue.

We have come to understand the Japanese much better than we did.

A week before their entry, I preached to our group and I urged them to have

faith in the goodness and humanity of the Japanese.

The Chinese are still laughing at us for our innocence.

Now, we better understand Japanese propaganda.

In the midst of great suffering, Japanese news squads went around staging

pictures of Japanese soldiers giving candy to a child or an army doctor

examining 20 children.

Some Japanese newsmen came to the camp and handed out cakes and apples and a

coins to the refugees.

A moving picture was taken of this kind act.

At the same time, a bunch of soldiers climbed the back wall of the compound

raped a dozen or so women.

No pictures were taken out back.

We introduce the Commandant Matsui, who shakes hands all around.

I assume the role of spokesman and explain to Mr. Tanaka of the Japanese

that we infer that the city is to be burned down.

Tanaka denies this with a smile.

Statement by the Japanese military posted throughout the city.

The municipality of Nanking is quiet.

The herds of refugees who fled for their lives from the midst of death have met

with the gentle soothing of the Japanese army.

The Imperial Army entered the city, put their bayonets into sheaths, and

stretched forth merciful hands in order to examine and to heal, diffusing grace

and favor to the excellent true citizens.

Many thousands of refugees cast off their former absurd attitudes of

Japan and clasped their hands in congratulation for receiving assurance

Looking down, one sees a playground for Nanking children with soldiers and

Chinese children playing joyfully on all sides.

The proclamation on the handbills, which airplanes scattered over the city,

saying the Japanese are the only real friends of the Chinese and would protect

the good, of course meant no more than most of their statements.

And to show their sincerity, they raped, looted, and killed at will.

In these hard times, it is certainly a lifesaver to be in a gang.

The thing about the whole situation that startles us all... It's how we, unarmed

handful of foreigners, can chase the Japanese soldiers out of rooms in school

buildings, rooms in foreign houses, and rooms in Chinese homes.

And still, no one gets hurt.

The soldiers often actually run away.

Part of it is pure bluff.

If we batted an eye, we'd be done for.

Our group here at the House drafted a message to the American Consulate

in Shanghai, asking that diplomatic representatives be sent here immediately

the situation was urgent.

then asked the Japanese to send it via Navy radio.

Needless to say, it was never sent.

When things were at their worst, the fellows at our house remarked at supper,

the first fellow that gets killed, we are going to carry his body over and put

it in the Japanese embassy.

Each night, the eight of us wonder who would be missing the next night.

We said, we just can't all get through this alive.

At noon, a man was led to headquarters with head burnt, cinder black, eyes and

ears gone, a nose partly gone.

A ghastly sight.

I took him to the hospital in my car, where he died a few hours later.

His story was that he was one of a gang of some hundred who had been tied

together, then gasoline thrown over them, and set afire.

December 24th, the day before Christmas.

About ten o 'clock, I was called to my office by a high military advisor.

Miss Minnie Waterin, our American Minnie, a proper lady to the core.

She believes in her girls and guards them the way a hen guards her chicks.

I shall never forget her marching at the head of some four hundred female

refugees through the town right past groups of vagabonding Japanese soldiers

guide the refugees to the safety of her girls' camp in Jingling College.

And now something terrible has happened to our Minnie.

The request was that they be allowed to pick out prostitute women from our 10

,000 refugees.

They said they wanted 100.

They feel if they can start a regular licensed place for the soldiers, then

will not molest innocent or decent women.

And with hands clenched in horror, Minnie is forced to watch as authorized

underlings force their way into her girls' assembly hall, filled with

of good girls.

She is not going to hand over even one of them willingly.

But then a number of young refugee girls step forward, evidently former

prostitutes.

Minnie is speechless.

They finally secured 21.

But group after group of women have asked me if they will select the other

from the decent women and girls.

And all I can answer is...

They will not do so if it isn't my power to prevent it.

Bob Wilson helped out at our house last night.

He got home early for the first time in two weeks.

So he went to the university gardens, brought six big poinsettias and put them

around our living room.

So we look like Christmas anyway.

Everyone is competing to make this a happy Christmas for me.

It's really touching.

Chang brought some Christmas roses and has decorated the house with them.

He even managed to find a little fir tree that he wants to decorate.

And he just came in grinning with joy and carrying six very long candles that

rounded up somewhere.

Everybody likes me suddenly.

And it used to be, or so I thought, that no one wanted to have much to do with

me.

Or might I have been wrong there?

How strange, my dear Dora, my dear children and grandchildren.

I know you're all praying for me today.

I feel as if I'm surrounded by loving thoughts.

Believe me, I have a prayer in my heart for all of you as well.

This seems like anything but Christmas Eve.

It is sort of tough to keep Japanese soldiers from looting a hospital in the

center of what was a few weeks ago a great city, while the rest of the family

scattered all over the globe.

My baby will be six months old in four days, and I have only seen her for seven

weeks in that time.

It would be pleasant to close the year with some sort of brighter outlook for

the next, but we seem to be closing on a note of deepest gloom, without a

glimmer of light ahead.

The only consolation is that it can't be worse.

They can't kill as many people as there aren't any more to kill.

Christmas Eve, Nanking, China, 1937.

What I am about to relate is a story which I feel must be told, even if it is

seen by only a few.

In these two short weeks, we here in Nanking have been through a siege.

The Chinese army has left, defeated, and the Japanese have come in.

On that day, Nanking was still the beautiful city we were so proud of, with

and order still prevailing.

Today it is a city laid waste, ravaged, completely looted, much of it burned.

Complete anarchy has reigned for ten days.

It has been a hell on earth.

Not that my life has been in serious danger at any time, though turning lust

-mad drunken soldiers out of houses where they were raping the women is not

altogether a safe occupation.

Nor does one feel perhaps too sure of himself when he finds a bayonet at his

chest,

a revolver at his head, and knows it is handled by someone who heartily wishes

him out of the way.

For the Japanese army is anything but pleased at our being here.

They wanted no observers.

But to have to stand by...

while even the very poor are having their last possessions taken from them,

their last coin, their last bit of bedding, while thousands of disarmed

who had sought sanctuary with you, together with many hundreds of innocent

civilians, are taken out before your eyes to be shot or used for bayonet

practice.

And we have to listen to the sounds of the guns that are killing them.

Over a thousand women kneel before you, crying.

hysterically begging you to save them from the beasts who are preying on them.

To stand by and do nothing while your flag is taken down and insulted not

but a dozen times, and your own houses being looted, and then to watch the city

you have come to love and the institutions which you'd planned to

best deliberately and systematically burned by fire.

This is a hell I had never before envisaged.

And we keep asking ourselves, how long can this last? Day by day, we are

by the officials that things will be better soon, that we will do our best.

But each day has been worse than the day before.

January 1st, a new year filled with hope.

There was a worship ceremony at 8 .30 this morning.

In the solemn air, the trumpet sounded and the Japanese flag was raised.

It is moving beyond words, with the sword sparkling in the rising sun.

We saluted the military flag, gave three cheers for our emperor and empress.

January 4.

It is just three weeks since Nanking was taken, and as yet, there has been no

foreigner allowed in or out.

The Japanese try to cover things up wherever it's even vaguely feasible, and

ban on anyone entering or leaving is one of their ways of keeping the world

ignorant of Nanking's present state.

We have now received news that the Japanese want to close all refugee camps

February 4th.

The refugees are supposed to return to the devastated city, and it doesn't

matter where they live amid the ruins.

This could be awful, but we don't know how to avert this calamity.

The military has all the power.

At 3 p .m., two embassy police came and asked us to get all the refugees

together so they could explain to them the plan of returning to their homes.

A Chinese man was with them who used to be a low -level Chinese army officer.

In order not to be killed, he became a Japanese collaborator.

When he was alone with Miss Fortran, he told her not to let the young girls go.

He wept as he spoke.

Their real object is to get these people away from us, who have been their

protection during these terrible weeks.

If they do not go back, the refugees in camps will be driven out by soldiers.

Some of the refugees have registered and gone home hoping to live there

peacefully. But unexpectedly, when the refugees arrived home, Japanese soldiers

were seen hunting for women.

I shall never bring pressure on women to leave again.

My experience on that was too bitter.

One woman of 27, whom we urged to go back to her husband, was raped by three

soldiers within three hours after she left us.

I learned my lesson.

And shall not easily forget it.

We have the possibility of a massacre.

But I don't see myself staying out of sight while soldiers use bayonets on

and children who've trusted us.

I scolded two Japanese soldiers.

The fellow in front was taking it all right, but the one in back was a surly

fellow. He drew his bayonet and then made a pass at my middle.

I stood my ground.

But since his first pass was unsuccessful, he took his bayonet and

neck for a moment.

He muttered something in Japanese and jerked his bayonet forward, and I ducked

my head back.

It drew blood.

I fear that the military intends to clear the zone by force.

The middle path is the only open spot left in the garden.

As I come outside, they all fall to their knees and cannot be persuaded to

up from the cold cement path until I give the following speech.

The Japanese have publicly announced that you must leave the refugee camps,

zone, today.

I personally shall not chase you away, but what can I, a single foreigner, do?

Nonetheless, I'll try to prevent the Japanese from entering.

When I return home in my car today, I am received with a royal salute.

My poor refugees have formed two long lines.

Then all my 600 parishioners surround me and give me a greeting written on a

banner. They all bow three times and are very happy when I bow my head in

gratitude.

Then one of my Chinese friends translates the greeting. You are the

Buddha for a hundred thousand people.

You have saved thousands of people from danger and want.

May the favor of heaven be granted to you.

May God's blessing rest upon you.

As is obvious from the letters that arrived for me yesterday from Shanghai

the German embassy, people there have not the vaguest notion of current

conditions here.

And what do we do next?

We'll about shot our bolts.

At 6 .40, I took the Japanese military train to Shanghai.

I was crowded in with about as unsavory a crowd of soldiers as one could imagine

in a third -class coach, nervous because sewed into the lining of my camel's

hair greatcoat were eight reels of 16mm movie film of atrocity cases, most of

which were taken at the university hospital by John McGee.

They were so terrible that they had to be seen to be believed.

My baggage would undoubtedly be carefully examined by the military when

to Shanghai.

What might happen if they discovered these films?

The pictures shown herewith give but a fragmentary glimpse of the unspeakable

things that happened following the Japanese occupation of Nanking on

13, 1937.

One must remember that of the thousands injured, only a small percentage got to

the hospital or were even heard of.

These pictures have been taken with no thought of stirring up a spirit of

against the Japanese, but only with a desire to make all people realize

How horrible war is.

Great care had to be exercised not to be seen while taking pictures, otherwise

the camera would have been smashed or confiscated.

Fortunately, the reels weren't discovered.

Washington. I was the guest of Undersecretary of State Dr. Stanley

whom I had known in China, and I was given the opportunity to see many people

importance, and I also showed my films to newspaper men and the Foreign Affairs

Committee of the House.

In Los Angeles, a couple of speeches were lined up for me, and one where I

showed my films caused something of a sensation, even illness on the part of a

couple of the audience.

And following the meeting, a Japanese gentleman approached me and said that my

statements about the atrocities in Nanking were not true.

They could not be true, for Japanese were incapable of such acts.

He asked me to retract some of the things I had said and intimated that it

be best for me if I did so.

I told him that I had many Japanese friends and knew that most Japanese were

incapable of such acts as I had described. But, I said, unfortunately,

everything I said was true, and hence I could retract nothing.

The war has rolled on to engulf a thousand other towns like ours.

This story of invasion, massacre, rape, and oppression will be reenacted among

countless communities in China.

Nanking looks like a garden that's been devoured by locusts.

The enemy creates a desert and calls it peace.

At the conclusion of World War II, the Allies convened a war crimes tribunal in

Tokyo.

From the summary judgment, approximately 20 ,000 cases of rape occurred in

Nanking within the first month of the occupation.

Estimates indicate that the total number of civilians and prisoners of war

murdered in Nanking in its vicinity during the first six weeks of the

occupation was over 200 ,000.

Do I hate the Japanese?

No.

I dislike very much their policy, and I dislike very much the way they are

treating the common people of China.

But if I'm ever given the opportunity of doing the same for the Japanese, as we

have done here for the Chinese men, women, and children, I would do the same

right over again.

I have deeply loved and

respected the cause of missions and Jingling College.

Had I ten lives, I would dedicate them all to this cause of kingdom building.

But alas,

I failed.

Dear,

don't think for a moment that I wouldn't give my right eye to be with you and

our unbelievably adorable child.

We have been caught up in a cataclysm, and during the immediate crisis, until

some light gets thrown upon future events, it is absolutely essential to

tight.

I do not regret having stayed on here, for my presence has saved many lives.

But all the same, my suffering is indescribable.

If it wasn't for him, if it wasn't for him, if it wasn't for him, if it wasn't

for him, if it wasn't for him, if it wasn't for him, if it wasn't for him,

The Chinese have an unsurpassed capacity for suffering and endurance, in

addition to their many other qualities, and right must triumph in the end.

I shall always be glad I threw in my lot with them.