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Red Lotusby Joseph Lerner


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LongTaleShort.com4338 8th Ave NE #36

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Copyright 2010 by Joseph Lerner

Red Lotusby Joseph Lerner


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Red Lotus [ 3 ]

Iscrambled across the frozen field, past trees shattered by mortar fire, the ground strewn with ord-nance and mangled corpses. I writhed beneath barbed wire, crossed trenches sheathed in mud andice, and finally reached the main encampment about midnight.I passed soldiers huddling beside meager fires, steam curling from cups of tea or borscht, hands

scrabbling to light cigarettes and pipes. eir stares bore right past me, as if I were invisible or already

dead. Even the soldiers guarding the colonels tent merely glanced in my direction before turningaway: they were used to me entering his tent and hadnt been told Id been banished to sentry duty.

Just inside, a tripod brazier flared, while beside it on a bench a Victrola played a mazurkas finalnotes over and over, the needle scrawling across the grooves.

I slid out my dagger from beneath my tunic.e colonel lay on his back, his eyes closed and snoring soly, despite the camphor lamp flicker-

ing from the ridgepole overhead. His arms were folded, his greatcoat draped over him, and his boots

stood at the end of the cot gleaming as if theyd just been polishedand I wondered who his neworderly was.

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[ 4 ] Joseph Lerner

Suddenly a gust of wind blew in; it clawed at the lamp, metal clanging against metal, the light car-oming about the tent. Still he did not stir. I thought: why had the colonel chosen me among the scores

of recruits? Had he seen something in methe curve of my cheeks, the shape of my nose, the color ofmy hair and eyesthat reminded him of someone? He said he knew my family, but was it my motherwho he most likely knew, and, like so many men, had fallen in love with her?

I let out my breath. My hands stopped trembling. I held the knife close to his throat. I smelled hisfamiliar cologne, watched his breath condense in the air. I lowered my dagger. I couldn do it, couldntkill him. Instead I leaned closer and brushed my lips against the man who I thought might be myfather and hurried from the tent.


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Red Lotus [ 7 ]

Two

As the railway tracks curved behind us, I saw from our compartment the long column ofcoaches flash as sunlight struck the roofs and glazed the dirt-streaked windows. Steam curledfrom the lurching wheels to dissipate in the fog, while above the steppes the Ural mountainsgleamed hazy with snow as they faded from the horizon.

ere were ninety-five coaches in all, with ten thousand soldiers aboard and more trains to come,bearing, all told, a half-million men to the front. About thirty soldiers were assigned to our coach(most others carried more than a hundred soldiers each), orderlies like myself as well as cooks, war-rant officers, file clerks, and other aides. Our coach was fourth-to-last; behind us were the adjutantsand general staffs, and behind theirs a dining lounge and mess coach. e last two coaches, 94 and95, belonged to the General and his mistress.

We orderlies were treated nearly as well as the officers, oen feasting on wild boar and pheasant,sipping from aperitifs and flutes of champagne, and smoking cigars from the generals own humidors.

And late at night dried strands of Rimsky-Korsokov, Tchaikovsky, or Mussorgsky, the generals mis-


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[ 8 ] Joseph Lerner

tress playing them on her baby grand.Rarely did we venture past Coaches 90, 89, and into the bowels of the train. But once before dawn

and unable to sleep, I entered Coach 88. I felt my way in the dark, trying not to stumble over thesoldiers sprawled in the aisles. Pipes and cigarettes glowed within a reeking pall of tobacco smoke,unwashed flesh, and human ordure. I tried to read the faces of the soldiers (who, in this coach, wereall Don Cossacks): raw-boned, ruddy, and red bearded, with eyes set close beneath beetle brows andwith hatchet-thin noses jutting above pale, thin lips.

Back in the compartment (my bunkmates still asleep) I began to draw what Id seen. I filled page af-ter page of my sketchbook with faces in full or in profile, with close-ups of hands and boots and pipes,with soldiers in greasy overcoats leaning against each other like brothers or lovers.

Later I tried sketching from earlier memories: my fieenth birthday; my familys dacha on the Be-laya river near Ufa; my mother and grandfather, still in their doctors smocks, on the garden terrace;the sunlight stippling the dogwood and crocus, crabapple and iris.


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Red Lotus [ 11 ]

M y father had been a captain in the Preobrazhensky Guards, presumed dead (his body neverfound) aer a skirmish in the Caucuses near Grozny in 1888. I was born several monthslater, and soon aer that my grandfather, a renowned surgeon with the Royal Hospitalsin St. Petersburg, le with my mother for Ufa. ere they founded a rural clinic to treat victims ofcholera and other infectious diseases caused by widespread famine and drought. But unlike the thou-sands of other volunteers, they stayed on and, over the years, as my grandfathers health declined, mymother assumed more of his responsibilities.

But he was now free to pursue his other passions, such as lepidoptery, ornithology, and taxonomy.e two of us, armed with field glasses, sketch paper, and charcoal or graphite pencils, would hike toa nearby meadow or glade and draw the flora and fauna. But his heart continued to worsen, and so,last April, my mother shut down the clinic to return to St. Petersburg to seek medical advice.

We never heard from her again. ree months later grandfather died.I hid all summer and early fall in the woods beside the Belaya river, rarely setting foot in town. I

had no other family and, because of my mothers and grandfathers reputations as freethinkers and

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[ 12 ] Joseph Lerner

socialists, I didnt trust the mayor or local nobility.Once aer dark I sneaked back into our dacha and clinic. Windows had been smashed, medicines

ransacked, and my grandfathers books trashed and burned. But our sketchbooks, which Id hidden inthe cellar, hadnt been found. I gathered them in my satchel and hurried from the house.Later than night a girl I knew, Marya, met me beneath the bridge outside of town with a loaf of

bread shed stolen from her fathers bakery.What will you do when winter comes? she asked.Ill stay with Olga. Olga, our former servant, lived in a nearby village.She has her own husband and children to care for.en Ill go to St. Petersburg, look for my mother My voice broke and I began to cry. She

kissed me and we lay beneath the blankets she had brought.At sunrise Marya scrambled into her clothes and hurried back to town. I wasnt surprised at her

abrupt leaving, shed been taking a terrible risk and I was grateful for all she had done for me. Maryawasnt the first girl I slept with, and I wasnt in love, but I would miss her when I le Ufa, which I wasnow determined to do as soon as possible.

I le for the dacha again, this time to retrieve photographs of my mother and grandfather to takewith me to St. Petersburg. I planned to walk the whole way, though I hadnt yet figured out how to

keep myself from starving or freezing to death.As I was leaving the cellar, I heard the clatter of hooves in the yard, and then a window breakingand footfalls echoing in the passage above. I seized a long jagged shard from the floor and retreatedbehind a wine rack.

At the top of the stairs the door creaked open; in the angle of light I glimpsed boots, militarybreaches, a sidearm.

Gregory Gregorovich! the man shouted from the top step. Im here to help you. My name isMajor Yuan Lee. Look! He brandished an envelope. Youd recognize your mothers handwriting,

wouldnt you?


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Red Lotus [ 13 ]

How do you know my mother? I yelled.Im a military attache with the Chinese consulate in St. Petersburg, he continued in fluent Rus-

sian. I know many officers in the Preobrazhensky Guards, where your father is still fondly remem-bered. I emerged from behind the wine rack. Good! Now come upstairs and well talk.In the kitchen the officer set two steaming glasses of tea before us. He was thin and tall, with a

narrow face and eyes the color of sand. Ive been looking for you for days, he said, handing me theletter. at girl, the bakers daughter, told me where I might find you.

I opened the envelope.

Dear Gregory,

I have written to you oen, but fear none of my letters have reached you. Major Lee assures me, how-ever, that this one will.

I am well, despite my detention at the Peter and Paul Fortress in Petersburg. Please dont be alarmed!Friends of the family have come to my aid, and Im confident of my imminent release.

Your grandfather and I never told you the real reason why we le Petersburg: he had been exiled be-cause of his political beliefs, though when I returned to the capital I did not think anyone would remem-ber or care, much less arrest me.

As for my leaving you and your grandfatherwhat was I thinking? But I meant to return within themonth, and I knew he was in your good hands.Please dont blame yourself! Or think Ive abandoned you, my darling boy!We may stay separated a while longer, so obey Major Lee as you would your grandfather or me. He is

a good friend and can be trusted no matter what.Love, Mother.

I set the letter down. My hands trembled and tears ran down my cheeks. Shes all right? I asked.

Major Lee nodded. And youll take me to Petersburg?


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We cant return just yet. Im to deliver you into the care of another army officer, Colonel Chierden,also of the Preobrazhensky Guards, and once a good friend of your fathers. e plan is to rendezvous

with him at the railway station in Perm, where well then board a troop train for Manchuria.Manchuria!e war against the Japanese will end soon, and you shouldnt be in harms way, not anywhere

near the front. And then well return west to Petersburg.How do you know the war will end soon?Didnt your mother say to trust me? He sipped his tea. Youll wear a uniform and hold the rank

of private. But that is for show. A disguise, if you will. He winked.And Im to pretend and not let on?Exactly! He slapped his knee. en we finished our tea and set our unwashed cups in the sink. As

if we were planning to return, I thought, stifling a tear.I gathered my satchel and followed him outside where two horses waited.ey were Mongolian, a chestnut and a black, small as ponies but fast and strong. I swung myself

onto the chestnut and followed Lee out into the road. Staring back at the house, my eyes grew moistagain, but when I saw the major turn to stare at me I flicked the horses reins and trotted aer him.

It was Sunday and the villages and hamlets were quiet. Church bells echoed across the fields as

scores of peasants filed past the sheaves of wheat and flax toward prayer. Dust swirled across the road.By late aernoon the sky had darkened and an icy rain began to fell, turning the road to mud.

We stopped just once to rest and water the horses. Major Lee brought me bread and tea from anearby inn. My hands were frozen and throbbing. I ate fast and went to the stables to retrieve ourhorses.

Later it began to snow but I fell into a light sleep despite the weather and the stiff Mongolian sad-dle. We reached Perm around midnight, the station little more than a hut with a stove and telegraph.Lee wired the train ahead while I watered and fed the horses again.

When I rejoined Lee, hed built a fire in the stove. We finished the last of our tea and bread. e ma-


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Red Lotus [ 15 ]

jor opened his pocket watch. Chierden should have been here by now. Well have to board whetherhe comes on time or not.

A train whistle shrieked from down the tracks. I led the horses onto the platform. Major Lee fol-lowed. e whistle blew again and the locomotives headlamps, a blurred halo of smoke and steel,pierced the dark.

en a horse and rider burst into the clearing. e officer dismounted and bounded to the plat-form. He and Major Lee embraced.

Colonel, Lee said, Meet your new orderly.Chierden was a large, heavy-bearded man in an army greatcoat and fur hat. He crossed his arms.

How old are you, son?

Sixteen.Sixteen! And small and frail-looking tooMy hands curled into fists, but I didnt raise them.Lee chuckled. Maybe a little mangy and feral. But frail, I think not.Is that so? Chierden stared at me again. Well, we shall see.I brought the horses to the livestock coaches near the rear of the train. A gate clattered open and

a soldier leaped down. He looked even younger and thinner than me. He jammed a ramp in place,

and, grabbing the horses reins, led them into the coach. e other horses bucked and snorted, theirbreaths icy swirls.Im Vladimir Perov, he said.MinesI know. Gregory Gregoravich Sandiuesky. Come with me.e train began moving, rattling the tack and other gear dangling from the stalls. Beside the coachs

rear door were stacked cages of pullets, ducks, and other fowl. Perov reached inside one cage, grabbeda goosling by the neck, and shoved it under his arms.

e next two coaches were empty. As we entered the third, Perov said that this was the officers


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Red Lotus [ 17 ]

Aer he le, Melnikov said, Dont be fooled by Chernovsky. Both he and Pelov are quite capable ofviolence.

And you?He smiled. Im a pacifist.What are you reading? He raised the book. God and the State, by Mikhail Bakunin. Not a paci-

fist, I said.Great. Another intellectual.He returned to his book. I reached in my satchel for Tolstoys (who was a pacifist) What I Believe,

but the small volumes pages were damp and stuck together.

For the first few days I had little to do. Chernovsky worked in the kitchen, and Pelov and Mel-nikov, like myself, were orderlies assigned to officers of the general staff. But I hadnt seen Major Leeor Colonel Chierden even once since we had boarded. So I used the time to brush up on the Englishand French I had been taught: the Americans Walt Whitman and Mark Twain, and Gustave Flaubertand Victor Hugo. e books were Melnikovs; he also had ones by Proudhon and Kropotkin as well asBakunin, but these I ignored.

For fresh air Id stand on the platform between coaches and stare at the whirling snow. e train

inched along, mostly eastward but oen detouring down spur lines and branches south and west tolink up with coaches and troops at stations even farther remote than Perm: Betsk, Abulak, Aktobe,Kandagach, Zhem, Zhanazhol, Nogi-Tem.

One morning Chernovsky shook me awake. Your presence is requested elsewhere, he said. Or-ders from Major Lee.

It was still dark. Groggy, I quickly dressed and followed Chernovsky outside. e train was idlingbeside the Nogi-Tem station, where, he said, the last ten coaches, with a thousand more soldiersaboard, had been hitched the previous night.

We dodged gouts of steam until reaching Coach 10, which was coupled behind the locomotives


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tender. A few soldiers lingered nearby, but none paid us any attention. Chernovsky knocked at thedoor and Melnikov unbolted it from inside and slid it open a crack.

Get in quick, he said, glancing at the soldiers.e coach was crammed with crates of munitions: carbines, side-arms, grenades, mortars, andshells, from which the smell of ozone, grease, and saltpeter waed. Pelov sat by an overturned crateand read from a bill of lading while Melnikov placed the firearms, one by one, inside a coffin-likelocker.

I could have used Sandiuesky earlier. Pelov scowled. Were about done.Gregory Gregoravich is not here to work, Chernovsky said. Hes to be treated as a Guest of the

State, the major said. He slipped a revolver inside his tunic before Melnikov could shut the locker.

Regular troops, Pelov explained, are forbidden to carry arms while in transit. Were exempt fromthat rule. He shut the ledger and pocketed a Colt semi-automatic that lay on the overturned crate.Melnikov reached for the revolver beside it as well as a short Kizlar knife. All three soldiers thenturned to me. e only weapon le was a small-bore pistol.

I picked it up, felt its unexpected he and warmth, nestling it in my hand like a small, tremblinganimal.


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Red Lotus [ 21 ]

Four

A whistle shrieked and brakes squealed as the coach shimmied and teetered. My headslammed against the bulkhead, crunched metal and shattered glass ringing in my ears.Gear and clothing whirled about the cabin. I clung to my bunk, bracing for another impact.Aer the train finally lurched to a halt, the four of us stared at each other in fear and relief.

We fumbled into our clothes and hurried outside. Smoke and flames billowed along the tracks

ahead. Cinder and debris careened in the night air. Dazed and freezing, we joined other soldiersbeside an oil drum that had been set alight and which blazed like a giant pyre.

We blew into our hands and stamped our feet. Soon a master sergeant appeared, accompanied bya slight, goateed man wearing spectacles and a Red Cross armband.

My name is Dr. Irgun, he shouted. Your train bore only minor damage, but the one ahead ofyours was not so lucky. Have any of you nursing or other medical experience? Chernovsky pushedme forward. Irgun turned to me. What is your name?

Gregory Gregoravich Sandieusky.And how did you come by your experience?

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My mother and grandfather ran a medical clinic in Ufa.Ufa, he repeated. He scrunched his brow. By chance is your grandfather Dr. Alexei Alexeivich

Balin?Yes. He died several months ago.Im sorry to hear that. I trained under him long ago. We should talk, but for now please follow

me.e Kyzyl railway station was a large ramshackle structure built on stilts above a frozen bog.

Stretcher-bearers ferried the wounded inside, where scores of soldiers already lay on blankets andstraw pallets. e floorboards keened, an icy wind buffeting from below. I spent the morning fetch-ing towels and compress, gauze and water. I changed patients dressing and once pinned down a flail-

ing soldier as Dr. Irgun sawed at his leg. I joined medics bringing in more wounded and gathered upbloody bandages and other waste to heap outside and set afire.

At Ufa thered been typhoid, cholera, and dyptheria; rickets, diarrhea, and malnutrition; bodilyinjury, miscarriage, tumors, and cancers. I helped mother in the clinic and infirmary, and she oendiscussed cases with grandfather over supper, or in the parlor or garden. So I was not unprepared forKyzyl and believe I acquitted myself well.

By late aernoon, the worst over, Irgun thanked me and said I could leave. It had stopped snowing

and a full moon shone. I walked toward where the other trains coaches had been derailed. Soldierswere still hauling out debris and repairing the tracks.I eventually found Chernovsky, Pelov, and Melnikov warming themselves by a small bonfire.anks, Chernovsky, I said.If I knew wed be stuck in the cold all day Idve volunteered myself. He pried open a tin of beluga

(or foie gras or some other delicacy hed scrounged from the wreck) with Melnikovs Kizlar knife.Melnikov was oiling his revolver. He spun the chamber, and squeezed the trigger (an audible click,

the chamber empty), aiming at Chernovsky.

Pelov seized the barrel. Fool. Didnt they teach you anything during training?

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Red Lotus [ 23 ]

Like our friend Gregory Gregoravich, Im a guest of the army. He frowned. Or was. By the way,he said to me, your officers been asking for you.

Colonel Chierden? Do you know where he is?See that shed where the tracks converge?e switching station? Melnikov nodded. Did he say why?Chernovsky guffawed, spraying food. Pelov struck a match on Melnikovs sleeve and lit his pipe.

Melnikov glowered at him and then turned to me. Go and find out.I opened my mouth and then closed it. I turned and walked down the tracks, soon skirting the

blast crater and wrecked locomotive, the air thick with cinder and burning metal. I saw a lamp flickerin the huts window and the silhouettes of three men.

I drew nearer. One of them was gagged and bound to a chair. He writhed and jerked his head toand fro. en one of the other two men slid a knife across his throat. Blood spattered the window.

I stumbled and fell, and, on hands and knees, retched in the snow. I heard the door bang open andLee or Chierden shout my name. But I pretended not to hear and instead scrambled to my feet andhurried away.


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Red Lotus [ 25 ]

Five

The wind roared from the sky, snow and hail scurrying across knobs and rucks of ice, the per-mafrost raveling toward distant, shimmering peaks.Lake Baikal.e coaches rocked, wheels squealing, rails heaving beneath them. I sat up, groggy and shivering.

Chernovsky and Melnikov were still asleep, but Pelov was not in his bunk. All three had stayed up latedrinking and playing cards (I had heard arguing, shouting and even a shoving match as I fell asleep).Later I awoke and saw out the window (the train barely moving) three soldiers grappling in the snow.A blade glittered, a man fell, and then the other two raced back to the train, blood fluorescing wherethe third man lay.

Or had I been dreaming?e train stopped. A master sergeant jogged beside the coaches, pounding on windows and order-

ing everyone outside.Later, when I saw Melnikov and Chernovsky in line beside a mobile kitchen that had been set up in

the snow, I asked, Wheres Pelov?


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Red Lotus [ 7 ]

My ears rang and my head throbbed. When the coaches were emptied, I was ordered to anothergang dragging ties and rails across the lake. By mid-aernoon Colonel Chierden rode up to us onLees Mongolian gray.

Ive been looking for you. Didnt you tell the sergeant you were assigned to me? he said.Im not afraid of a little work.Keep it up and youll get a real taste of hardship. I grabbed the hand he offered and swung up be-

hind him. Look in my saddlebag. Ive got your sketchbook and pencils. e general is curious aboutyou.

We rode toward the farther shore and then to a narrow marsh and bay. Nearby gurgled hot springswhich melted the adjacent ice. e generals troika, its runners sunk in sand, hunkered nearby. He

had exchanged his fur coat for a leather jerkin and stamped about, smacking his hands and grinningas if it were a beautiful day to be out and about. Major Lee grabbed several shotguns from the backof the troika and handed one each to Chierden and to the general and kept one for himself. e girlstood near the horses, feeding them treats.

e three officers le. I got out my sketchbook and began to draw. e girl walked over to me. Shelooked in her furs and jewels as if she were about to step out to a ball or cotillion on Nevsky Prospectinstead of being stranded in the Siberian wilderness.

She sat beside me, her hands curled in her muff. Can I see? I felt my cheeks burn and my legswobble. My names Irena.

ImI know who you are. Gregory Gregorovich Sandieusky. See? She pointed. Your names even on

your sketchbook! I shrugged and passed it to her. She began turning the pages. Is that your motherand grandfather? I nodded. My throat tightened. Colonel Chierden and Major Lee told me aboutthem. Ive been hoping wed meet.

Why? I asked, confused.

Because were alike. My mother died of pneumonia, you see, when I was twelve, and my fathers



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Joseph Lerner

gone off to AmericaSuddenly geese scrambled into the sky and the air echoed with gunfire. Why was she telling me

this? I didnt want the general to return and find us like this. Yet I couldnt leave, I kept thinking of thewarmth of her leg against mine, the rise and fall of her breasts, her lips.

A second, third, and fourth troika appeared. As they drew near, cooks and orderlies jumped out,lugging linen, china, and folding chairs and tables.

Chierden, Lee, and the general returned. More sleighs appeared, these with officers, subalterns,NCOs. Lanterns and braziers were lit, pitchers of mead and kvass passed around, followed by pots ofsturgeon, veal and wild boar. And for dessert, torts and puddings with samovars of coffee and blacktea.

Irena smiled at me, torchlight reflecting in her eyes, her cheeks round and dimpled like a childs.She kissed me.

e general, drunk on kvass, came over and shoved me aside so he could sit next to Irena. Hewhispered in her ear, Irena shook her head, and he grabbed her arm. I tried to jump up, not a littledrunk myself, but Major Lee, sitting on my other side, pushed me back down. I squirmed in his graspwhile Irena, with Chierden and the general, walked back to their troika.


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Six

Well be in Harbin tomorrow, Chierden said, staring at our reflections in the mirror. I held atray with a straight razor, strop, and shaving brush and soap. He set down the scissors hedtrimmed his beard with and rubbed his stubbled face.

e train, aer its long slow climb into the Altai mountains, had begun its descent. Bottles andjars rattled atop the shelf above the wash basin, but my hands remained steady as I lathered his face,stropped the razor, and commenced shaving him. I fell in with the trains rhythms, but when I raisedthe blade to his throat he seized my wrist.

I can do this myself, he said. ough I dont doubt your fingers are nimble. You are the son andgrandson of surgeons.

You include my mother. What else do you know about my family?With several de swipes the remaining stubble was gone. He set down the razor. It was your father

who I knew. And your mother. Your grandfather didnt much care for me.Why not?He was a pacifist.My father was a soldier too.Your grandfather didnt care much for him either. He wiped his face and tossed the towel on the



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p

tray. He sat down on his bunk.en howYour father and I were cadets together in the Preobzhensky Guards. He first saw your mother on

the Marsovo Pole parade grounds where we were drilling. He knew a duchess who knew an aunt and,well, thats how introductions are made in St. Petersburg.

How old was my mother?Sixteen. But we werent much older. Twenty, twenty-one. He closed his eyes. ey courted

through spring and summer. In autumn our regiment was dispatched to quell a rebellion in the Cau-cuses. I was the last to see your father alive. Aer the battle I even returned to look for him.

Maybe he was taken prisoner.

Maybe. But wouldnt we have heard from him by now if he were still alive?You tell me. I stared at his face: this was the first time Id seen him clean shaven.Youre insolent, undisciplined, and ungrateful, he said. at will change. Once at the front youll

act as my orderly. You will say sir. You will salute. In other words, youll comport yourself like a sol-dier.

A Tatar horseman raced beside the train, hooves tracking oval shadows in the sand, sunlightglinting from his tunic, leggings, and pummel. I fell into a deep sleep and, when I awoke, desert hadbecome grassland, barren mountains fields stippled with larch and pine, and tents and corrals walledhouses, pagodas, gardens, shops, and inns.

Harbin City.Chernovsky, Melnikov, and I lugged our kit-bags from our compartment and jumped from the

train. e station platform was crowded with soldiers coaxing horses from livestock coaches andwheeling trunks and crates onto barrows and wagons.

A sergeant-major checked our papers and marched the three of us away from the station toward

an idling motor-truck. We didnt protest or question our orders. For one, this was a good sign that we


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hyperbole. I remembered what Id read in one of Melnikovs books. A classic pincers move. I swal-lowed.

ats right. A trap. If I had known earlier Again he paused. I suggest you memorize as much

of this map as you can: landmarks, elevations, troop movements, and so forth. See in the southwest?e forests? No Japanese there, nor any within a hundred versts. at should not change. Do youunderstand what Im saying?

I think so.You shouldnt rely on me henceforth. You need to make your own way. South to our forces in

Mukden orShots rang out in the courtyard below. Chierden grabbed his pistol and crawled to the window. I

followed. We saw Melnikov and Chernovsky below, practice shooting at a row of Buddhist statuesagainst the courtyard wall. Heads and torsos burst and clattered along the paving stones.

Go down and tell them to stop, damn it, Chierden said, holstering his pistol. And then find Ma-jor Lee. I need to talk to him.

I went outside. Chernovsky said, Have you heard? Were going to the front. Every cook, orderly,and clerk to the trenches.

I found Major Lee near a chapel, unfinished and already a ruin, its cross and copper dome glinting

with rust in an icy patch of brush and thistle. He was smoking a cigarette and watching me.Colonel Chierden I began.Wants to see me? I nodded. No doubt hes shown you the map. Well, our situation is not as dire

as he believes. How do you think weve acquired such intelligence? By our diligence in convincingmany Chinese that Japan is the far more dangerous enemy. He flicked the butt in the snow. Pleasecome with me.

We trampled through the brush for about a verst until reaching a half-collapsed mill with a water-

wheel suspended above a frozen creek. Smoke curled from its chimney. A narrow, steep path led to a

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low-slung doorway. Inside, an old man and a young girl squatted by a furnace while another womancrouched nearby, a squalling infant in her lap.

Cinders and smoke blew about the small stone room. My eyes teared and I choked from the fumes

as Lee edged closer and talked to the old man, who replied waving his hands about and shouting. Leespoke some more, always calmly, and eventually the old man nodded, frowning, as if he still wasntconvinced or mollified.

e major said to me, I just told Uncle Chu you may be staying on aer the colonel and I go.It will be safer than your striking out on your own. Before I could ask why hed been shouting, heturned to the girl. Mei-Ying? She looked up him. Gregory Gregorovich here will need your helpwhen were gone.

Yes, Kai-yu Lee, she said in Russian, her eyes lowered.Good. ank you. I must return to the monastery . He rose to leave.Mouth agape, I stared aer the major. Mei-Ying tugged at my jacket. Come with me.I followed. She wore only a padded tunic, silk trousers, and slippers. She couldnt have been more

than twelve or thirteen years old. Dodging raers, we climbed slippery stairs down into a dark cellar.Beyond a chink of rock, waterfalls plunged and ice shattered.

She kept up a steady banter (in fluent Russian!) as if as a diversion: about how she knew Major Lee(he was a distant cousin), about the local partisans (Communist, Nationalist, anti-Japanese, anti-Rus-

sian), and about how her own family and neighbors fared as victims of so much factional violence.And how did you learn Russian so well? I asked as we climbed outside to the down to the creek

bed.From cousin Lee. I lived with him in Peking when I was very young. Uncle Chu and aunt Ting are

really country cousinsOf course, there was much more to her story. But I was cold, tired, and frightened. And where were

we going? And what had Major Lee said, exactly, to Uncle Chu?

We passed the chapel, beyond which was a courtyard I hadnt seen before, also ruined but obvious-



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ly ancient, with a mausoleum and tombstones and, in the middle, a great bronze bell that must havebeen hauled here from a great distance. Inside the bell was a larger-than-life statue of the Buddha.From nearby frozen weeds the girl plucked a fresh crimson flower and, bowing, set it in the statues

lap.A flower that blooms in winter, I murmured.For the Buddha Avalokiteshvara, the Holder of the Lotus, goddess of compassion and love.Is this why you brought me here? To show me this?No. e mausoleum there? It would be safer for you to stay there than with us. But I will come

every day with food and firewood.I shoved the door open and entered the tomb. I crouched inside. Was Mei-Ying afraid of me or was

it just her uncle Chu? But didnt Chierden have the better plan aer all?I could hear Mei-Ying outsidechanting, perhaps, a prayer to Avalokiteshvara. But for whom?Me? Herself? Her family?

I shivered, the nausea I felt earlier returning. I le the mausoleum and began to walk back to themonastery.

Melnikov and Chernovsky were gone, including their effects. So were Lee and Chierden, thoughtheir gear (and maps) were still upstairs. I stashed my own gear next to theirs and built up a fire inone of the grates. I read and sketched the rest of the aernoon and fell asleep soon aer sunset.

Later that night screams awoke me. I scrambled into my clothes and rushed outside. A woman, na-ked and in flames, raced about the courtyard and then fell into the snow. She writhed about, scream-ing, even aer the snow extinguished the fire. Chierden and Lee were standing over her. Chierdenfired his revolver and at her head.

I fell to me knees and vomited. ey heard and turned to me. I hurried back inside, quickly packedmy gear, and lit out from the monastery.

Red Lotus [ 37 ]


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Photo Credits (Permissions by CreativeCommons):

Cover & back cover: Somanatha Temple at Somnath, Prabhas Patan, in Gujarat, from the west, from the ArchaeologicalSurvey of India, taken by D.H. Sykes in c.1869.Page 2: Hurried work at a Russian field hospital. Credit: Underwood & Underwood, c1905.Page 6: CN railway tracks, photo by Marcus Obal.Page 10: 10th Century, Dunhuang. Detail from an illustration of Sakyamunis temptation by Mara. Source via book eGenius of China, Robert Temple.Page 20: From A Century of Japanese Photography, page 134.Page 24: Lake Baikal. Credit: National Science Foundation.Page 6: CN railway tracks, photo by Marcus Obal.Page 30: Central seated Sakyamuni and disciple, Hidden Stream Temple, Longmen grottoes (Mt. Longmen), Luoyang, Henan,

China. Credit: Pratyeka.

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