bertalign/corpus/mac/test/tok/013.en

the ninth day of the eighth lunar month , 1939 .
my father , a bandit 's offspring who have pass he fifteenth birthday , be join the force of commander yu zhan ' ao , a man destine to become a legendary hero , to ambush a japanese convoy on the jiao-ping highway .
grandma , a padded jacket over she shoulder , see they to the edge of the village .
' stop here , ' commander yu order she .
she stop .
' douguan , mind you foster-dad , ' she tell my father .
the sight of she large frame and the warm fragrance of she line jacket chill he .
he shiver .
he stomach growl .
commander yu pat he on the head and say , ' let 's go , foster-son . '
heaven and earth be in turmoil , the view be blur .
by then the soldier ' muffle footstep have move far down the road .
father could still hear they , but a curtain of blue mist obscure the man themselves .
grip tightly to commander yu 's coat , he nearly fly down the path on churn leg .
grandma recede like a distant shore as the approach sea of mist grow more tempestuous ; hold on to commander yu be like cling to the railing of a boat .
that be how father rush towards the uncarved granite marker that would rise above he grave in the bright-red sorghum field of he hometown .
a bare-assed little boy once lead a white billy goat up to the weed-covered grave , and as it graze in unhurried contentment , the boy piss furiously on the grave and sing out :
' the sorghum be red – the japanese be come – compatriot , get ready – fire you rifle and cannon – '
someone say that the little goatherd be i , but i do not know .
i have learn to love northeast gaomi township with all my heart , and to hate it with unbridled fury .
i do not realise until i would grow up that northeast gaomi township be easily the most beautiful and most repulsive , most unusual and most common , most sacred and most corrupt , most heroic and most bastardly , hardest-drinking and hardest-loving place in the world .
the people of my father 's generation who live there eat sorghum out of preference , plant as much of it as they could .
in late autumn , during the eighth lunar month , vast stretch of red sorghum shimmer like a sea of blood .
tall and dense , it reek of glory ; cold and graceful , it promise enchantment ; passionate and loving , it be tumultuous .
the autumn wind be cold and bleak , the sun 's ray intense .
white cloud , full and round , float in the tile-blue sky , cast full round purple shadow onto the sorghum field below .
over decade that seem but a moment in time , line of scarlet figure shuttle among the sorghum stalk to weave a vast human tapestry .
they kill , they loot , and they defend they country in a valiant , stir ballet that make we unfilial descendant who now occupy the land pale by comparison .
surround by progress , i feel a nagging sense of we species ' regression .
after leave the village , the troops march down a narrow dirt path , the tramp of they foot merge with the rustling of weed .
the heavy mist be strangely animated , kaleidoscopic .
tiny droplet of water pool into large drop on father 's face , clump of hair stick to he forehead .
he be use to the delicate peppermint aroma and the slightly sweet yet pungent odour of ripe sorghum waft over from the side of the path – nothing new there .
but as they march through the heavy mist , he nose detect a new , sickly-sweet odour , neither yellow nor red , blend with the smell of peppermint and sorghum to call up memory hidden deep in he soul .
six day later , the fifteenth day of the eighth month , the night of the mid-autumn festival .
a bright round moon climb slowly in the sky above the solemn , silent sorghum field , bathing the tassel in its light until they shimmer like mercury .
among the chiselled fleck of moonlight father catch a whiff of the same sickly odour , far stronger than anything you might smell today .
commander yu be lead he by the hand through the sorghum , where three hundred fellow villager , head pillow on they arm , be strew across the ground , they fresh blood turn the black earth into a sticky muck that make walk slow and difficult .
the smell take they breath away .
a pack of corpse-eating dog sit in the field stare at father and commander yu with glint eye .
commander yu draw he pistol and fire – a pair of eye be extinguish .
another shot , another pair of eye go .
the howling dog scatter , then sit on they haunch once they be out of range , set up a deafening chorus of angry bark as they gaze greedily , longingly at the corpse .
the odour grow stronger .
' jap dog ! '
commander yu scream .
' jap son of bitch ! '
he empty he pistol , scatter the dog without a trace .
' let 's go , son , ' he say .
the two of they , one old and one young , thread they way through the sorghum field , guide by the moon 's ray .
the odour saturating the field drench father 's soul and would be he constant companion during the cruel month and year ahead .
sorghum stem and leave sizzle fiercely in the mist .
the black water river , which flow slowly through the swampy lowland , sing in the spreading mist , now loud , now soft , now far , now near .
as they catch up with the troops , father hear the tramp of foot and some coarse breathing fore and aft .
the butt of a rifle noisily bump someone else 's .
a foot crush what sound like a human bone .
the man in front of father cough loudly .
it be a familiar cough , call to mind large ear that turn red with excitement .
large transparent ear cover with tiny blood vessel be the trademark of wang wenyi , a small man whose enlarged head be tuck down between he shoulder .
father strain and squint until he gaze bore through the mist : there be wang wenyi 's head , jerk with each cough .
father think back to when wang be whip on the parade ground , and how pitiful he have look .
he have just join up with commander yu .
adjutant ren order the recruit : right face !
wang wenyi stomp down joyfully , but where he intend to ' face ' be anyone 's guess .
adjutant ren smack he across the backside with he whip , force a yelp from between he parted lip .
ouch , mother of my child !
the expression on he face could have be a cry , or could have be a laugh .
some kid sprawl atop the wall hoot gleefully .
now commander yu kick wang wenyi in the backside .
' who say you could cough ? '
' commander yu . . . '
wang wenyi stifle a cough .
' my throat itch . . . . '
' so what ?
if you give away we position , it be you head ! '
' yes , sir , ' wang reply , as another cough spell erupt .
father sense commander yu lurch forward to grab wang wenyi around the neck with both hand .
wang wheeze and gasp , but the cough stop .
father also sense commander yu 's hand release wang 's neck ; he even sense the purple welt , like ripe grape , leave behind .
aggrieved gratitude fill wang 's deep-blue , frightened eye .
the troops turn quickly into the sorghum , and father know instinctively that they be head southeast .
the dirt path be the only direct link between the black water river and the village .
during the day it have a pale cast ; the original black earth , the colour of ebony , have be cover by the passage of countless animal : cloven hoofprint of ox and goat , semicircular hoofprint of mule , horse , and donkey ; dry road apple leave by horse , mule , and donkey ; wormy cow chip ; and scatter goat pellet like little black bean .
father have take this path so often that later on , as he suffer in the japanese cinder pit , its image often flash before he eye .
he never know how many sexual comedy my grandma have perform on this dirt path , but i know .
and he never know that she naked body , pure as glossy white jade , have lie on the black soil beneath the shadow of sorghum stalk , but i know .
the surround mist grow more sluggish once they be in the sorghum field .
the stalk screech in secret resentment when the man and equipment bump against they , send large , mournful bead of water splashing to the ground .
the water be ice-cold , clear and sparkling , and deliciously refreshing .
father look up , and a large drop fall into he mouth .
as the heavy curtain of mist part gently , he watch the head of sorghum stalk bend slowly down .
the tough , pliable leaf , weight down by the dew , saw at he clothes and face .
a breeze set the stalk above he rustling briefly ; the gurgle of the black water river grow louder .
father have go swim so often in the black water river that he seem bear to it .
grandma say that the sight of the river excite he more than the sight of he own mother .
at the age of five , he could dive like a duckling , he little pink asshole bobbing above the surface , he foot stick straight up .
he know that the muddy riverbed be black and shiny , and as spongy as soft tallow , and that the bank be cover with pale-green reed and plantain the colour of goose-down ; coil vine and stiff bone grass hug the muddy ground , which be crisscross with the track of skitter crab .
autumn wind bring cool air , and wild goose fly through the sky head south , they formation change from a straight line one minute to a v the next .
when the sorghum turn red , horde of crab the size of horse hoof scramble onto the bank at night to search for food – fresh cow dung and the rot carcass of dead animal – among the clump of river grass .
the sound of the river remind father of a autumn night during he childhood , when the foreman of we family business , arhat liu , name after buddhist saint , take he crab on the riverbank .
on that grey-purple night a golden breeze follow the course of the river .
the sapphire-blue sky be deep and boundless , green-tinted star shine brightly in the sky :
the ladle of ursa major ( signify death ) , the basket of sagittarius ( represent life ) ; octans , the glass well , miss one of its tile ; the anxious herd boy ( altair ) , about to hang himself ; the mournful weaving girl ( vega ) , about to drown herself in the river . . . .
uncle arhat have be oversee the work of the family distillery for decade , and father scramble to keep up with he as he would he own grandfather .
the weak light of the kerosene lamp bore a five-yard hole in the darkness .
when water flow into the halo of light , it be the cordial yellow of a overripe apricot .
but cordial for only a fleeting moment , before it flow on .
in the surround darkness the water reflect a starry sky .
father and uncle arhat , rain cape over they shoulder , sit around the shaded lamp listen to the low gurgling of the river .
every so often they hear the excited screech of a fox call to its mate in the sorghum field beside the river .
father and uncle arhat sit quietly , listen with rapt respect to the whisper secret of the land , as the smell of stink river mud drift over on the wind .
horde of crab attract by the light skitter towards the lamp , where they form a shift , restless cloister .
father be so eager he nearly spring to he foot , but uncle arhat hold he by the shoulder .
' take it easy !
greedy eater never get the hot gruel . '
hold he excitement in check , father sit still .
the crab stop as soon as they enter the ring of lamplight , and line up head to tail , blot out the ground .
a greenish glint issue from they shell , as countless pair of button eye pop from deep socket on little stem .
mouth hide beneath sloping face release frothy string of brazenly colourful bubble .
the long fibre on father 's straw rain cape stand up .
' now ! '
uncle arhat shout .
father spring into action before the shout die out , snatch two corner of the tightly weave net they would spread on the ground beforehand ; they raise it in the air , scoop up a layer of crab and reveal a clear spot of riverbank beneath they .
quickly tie the end together and toss the net to one side , they rush back and lift up another piece of net with the same speed and skill .
the heavy bundle seem to hold hundred , even thousand of crab .
as father follow the troops into the sorghum field , he move sideways , crablike , overshoot the space between the stalk and bump they hard , which cause they to sway and bend violently .
still grip tightly to commander yu 's coat-tail , he be pull along , he foot barely touch the ground .
but he be get sleepy .
he neck feel stiff , he eye be grow dull and listless , and he only thought be that as long as he could tag along behind uncle arhat to the black water river he have never come back empty-handed .
father eat crab until he be sick of it , and so do grandma .
but even though they lose they appetite for it , they could not bear to throw the uneaten one away .
so uncle arhat mince the leftovers and ground they under the bean-curd millstone , then salt the crab paste , which they eat daily , until it finally go bad and become mulch for the poppy .
apparently grandma be a opium smoker , but be not addict , which be why she have the complexion of a peach , a sunny disposition , and a clear mind .
the crab-nourished poppy grow huge and fleshy , a mixture of pink , red , and whites that assail you nostril with they fragrance .
the black soil of my hometown , always fertile , be especially productive , and the people who till it be especially decent , strong-willed , and ambitious .
the white eel of the black water river , like plump sausage with tapered end , foolishly swallow every hook in sight .
uncle arhat have die the year before on the jiao-ping highway .
he corpse , after be hack to piece , have be scatter around the area .
as the skin be be strip from he body , he flesh jump and quiver , as if he be a huge skin frog .
image of that corpse send shiver up father 's spine .
then he think back to a night some seven or eight year earlier , when grandma , drunk at the time , have stand in the distillery yard beside a pile of sorghum leave , she arm around uncle arhat 's shoulder .
' uncle . . . do not leave , ' she plead .
' if not for the sake of the monk , stay for the buddha .
if not for the sake of the fish , stay for the water .
if not for my sake , stay for little douguan .
you can have i , if you want . . . .
you be like my own father . . . . '
father watch he push she away and swagger into the shed to mix fodder for the two large black mule who , when we open we distillery , make we the richest family in the village .
uncle arhat do not leave after all .
instead he become we foreman , right up to the day the japanese confiscate we mule to work on the jiao-ping highway .
now father and the other could hear long-drawn-out bray from the mule they have leave behind in the village .
wide-eyed with excitement , he could see nothing but the congeal yet nearly transparent mist that surround he .
erect stalk of sorghum form dense barrier behind a wall of vapour .
each barrier lead to another , seemingly endless .
he have no idea how long they would be in the field , for he mind be focus on the fertile river roaring in the distance , and on he memory .
he wonder why they be in such a hurry to squeeze through this packed , dreamy ocean of sorghum .
suddenly he lose he bearing .
he listen carefully for a sign from the river , and quickly determine that they be head east-southeast , towards the river .
once he have a fix on they direction , he understand that they would be set a ambush for the japanese , that they would be kill people , just as they have kill the dog .
by head east-southeast , they would soon reach the jiao-ping highway , which cut through the swampy lowland from north to south and link the two county of jiao and pingdu .
japanese and they run dog , chinese collaborator , have build the highway with the force labour of local conscript .
the sorghum be set in motion by the exhaust troops , whose head and neck be soak by the settle dew .
wang wenyi be still cough , even though he would be the target of commander yu 's continue angry outburst .
father sense that the highway be just up ahead , its pale-yellow outline sway in front of he .
imperceptibly tiny opening begin to appear in the thick curtain of mist , and one dew-soaked ear of sorghum after another stare sadly at father , who return they devout gaze .
it dawn on he that they be live spirit : they root bury in the dark earth , they soak up the energy of the sun and the essence of the moon ; moisten by the rain and dew , they understand the way of the heaven and the logic of the earth .
the colour of the sorghum suggest that the sun have already turn the obscure horizon a pathetic red .
then something unexpected occur .
father hear a shrill whistle , follow by a loud burst from up ahead .
' who fire he weapon ? '
commander yu bellow .
' who be the prick who do it ? '
father hear the bullet pierce the thick mist and pass through sorghum leave and stalk , lop off one of the head .
everyone hold he breath as the bullet scream through the air and thud to the ground .
the sweet smell of gunpowder dissipate in the mist .
wang wenyi scream pitifully , ' commander – my head 's go – commander – my head 's go – '
commander yu freeze momentarily , then kick wang wenyi .
' you dumb fuck ! ' he growl .
' how could you talk without a head ? '
commander yu leave my father standing there and go up to the head of the column .
wang wenyi be still howl .
father press forward to catch a glimpse of the strange look on wang 's face .
a dark-blue substance be flow on he cheek .
father reach out to touch it ; hot and sticky , it smell a lot like the mud of the black water river , but fresher .
it overwhelm the smell of peppermint and the pungent sweetness of sorghum and awaken in father 's mind a memory that draw ever nearer : like bead , it string together the mud of the black water river , the black earth beneath the sorghum , the eternally live past , and the unstoppable present .
there be time when everything on earth spit out the stench of human blood .
' uncle , ' father say , ' you be wound . '
' douguan , be that you ?
tell you old uncle if he head 's still on he neck . '
' it be there , uncle , right where it be suppose to be .
except you ear 's bleeding . '
wang wenyi reach up to touch he ear and pull back a bloody hand , yelp in alarm .
then he freeze as if paralyse .
' commander , i be wound !
i be wound ! '
commander yu come back to wang , kneel down , and put he hand around wang 's neck .
' stop scream or i 'll throttle you ! '
wang wenyi do not dare make a sound .
' where be you hit ? '
commander yu ask he .
' my ear . . . '
wang be weep .
commander yu take a piece of white cloth from he waistband and tear it in two , then hand it to he .
' hold this over it , and no more noise .
stay in rank .
you can bandage it when we reach the highway . '
commander yu turn to father .
' douguan , ' he bark .
father answer , and commander yu walk off hold he by the hand , follow by the whimper wang wenyi .
the offend discharge have be the result of carelessness by the big fellow they call mute , who be up front carry a rake on he shoulder .
the rifle sling over he back have go off when he stumble .
mute be one of commander yu 's old bandit friend , a greenwood hero who have eat fistcake in the sorghum field .
one of he leg be shorter than the other – a prenatal injury – and he limp when he walk , but that do not slow he down .
father be a little afraid of he .
at about dawn , the massive curtain of mist finally lift , just as commander yu and he troops emerge onto the jiao-ping highway .
in my hometown , august be the misty season , possibly because there be so much swampy lowland .
once he step onto the highway , father feel suddenly light and nimble ; with extra spring in he step , he let go of commander yu 's coat .
wang wenyi , on the other hand , wear a crestfallen look as he hold the cloth to he injured ear .
commander yu crudely wrap it for he , cover up half he head .
wang gnash he tooth in pain .
' the heaven have smile on you , ' commander yu say .
' my blood 's all go , ' wang whimper , ' i can not go on ! '
' bullshit ! '
commander yu exclaim .
' it be no worse than a mosquito bite .
you have not forget you three son , have you ? '
wang hang he head and mumble , ' no , i have not forget . '
the butt of the long-barrelled fowling piece over he shoulder be the colour of blood .
a flat metal gunpowder pouch rest against he hip .
remnant of the dissipate mist be scatter throughout the sorghum field .
there be neither animal nor human footprint in the gravel , and the dense wall of sorghum on the desert highway make the man feel that something ominous be in the air .
father know all along that commander yu 's troops number no more than forty – deaf , mute , and cripple include .
but when they be quarter in the village , they have stir thing up so much , with chicken squawk and dog yelp , that you would have think it be a garrison command .
out on the highway , the soldier huddle so closely together they look like a inert snake .
they motley assortment of weapon include shotgun , fowling piece , ageing hanyang rifle , plus a cannon that fire scale weight and be carry by two brother , fang six and fang seven .
mute be tote a rake with twenty-six metal tine , as be three other soldier .
father still do not know what a ambush be , and even if he have , he would not have know why anyone would take four rake to the event .