Chapter 3
The Mortal Coil
(Continued)
January 16th, 1936. Town of Manzhouli, Manchurian-Soviet border…
The trip out to Manzhouli had been worse than the last one. The Manchurian winter was in full force and travel had become extremely difficult. There had been some concern on Pu Yi’s part that they would make it by the 16th. They actually made it by the 15th. The goods had been kept in one of the empty buildings on the outskirts of town for the night. The villagers gave it a wide berth, which was wise, considering the guards posted around it wearing the uniforms of the Imperial Guard.
At 9 pm on the 16th, a knock came at Pu Yi’s door in the room that he had taken in an inn that had been requisitioned for government use. The owner had been well compensated, so he hadn’t complained and went to stay with family. “Enter.”
The man entered the room, rubbing his hands briskly together. The cold outside was extreme, the wind whipping the snow into a white frenzy. “They are here, your Majesty.”
Pu Yi sighed, and stood. He put on his greatcoat and gloves. “Let’s get this business over with.”
The two men exited the building into the swirling maelstrom of white. Pu Yi looked up the street towards the border and could barely make out the headlamps of the Soviet vehicles. They walked up the street towards his own vehicles which were situated just this side of the border, their headlamps glaring towards the Soviets. He could see a man separate himself from a cluster of Russian soldiers and move towards him. “A fine Siberian evening”, said Colonel Markin. “Perfect for this sort of thing.”
“If you say so”, replied Pu Yi, looking away from the smiling Colonel.
“Second thoughts?” asked the Colonel.
“No.” Pu Yi turned and looked at the man.
“They are on their way, your Majesty”, said the man, guessing Pu Yi’s unasked question, and as if on cue, around the corner came a line of men in cuffs and shackles shuffling along under the watchful gaze of Manchurian guards. The men were stopped beside the trucks that had brought them here.
Pu Yi turned to Colonel Markin. “Do you have the documents?”
Colonel Markin held out his hand and an aide behind him handed him a satchel. He immediately handed it to Pu Yi. “I think you will find that all is in order as you requested.”
Pu Yi took the satchel and handed over to the man. “I think our business is concluded her, Colonel.”
Colonel Markin merely nodded. With that Pu Yi and the man turned and started to walk past the line of men towards his vehicle. “IS THIS HOW YOU REWARD LOYALTY!?” yelled one of the men over the howl of the wind. “I WANT AN ANSWER. IS IT!?”
Pu Yi stopped in his tracks. “Ignore it your Majesty”, said the man.
Pu Yi looked at the man and then back at the ground. “I cannot.” He raised his head and then turned and strode towards the line of men. The Soviet guards were moving forward to take possession and Pu Yi raised a hand to stop them. They looked from Pu Yi to Colonel Markin, confused on how to proceed.
Colonel Markin came up. “Is there a problem?”
Pu Yi looked at the Colonel. “Could you pull your men back and give me a moment.” The Colonel’s eyes narrowed. “You will have them soon enough Colonel, a few more moments should make no difference.”
Colonel Markin thought a moment, nodded, and ordered his men back.
Pu Yi turned and came before the man who had shouted. “General Semenov.”
General Semenov glared at Pu Yi. In a low menacing voice, “How could you…”
“What?!” Pu Yi interrupted. “Do this? Were you in my shoes General, the question would be, ‘how could I not’.”
The General spit at Pu Yi’s feet. “Doubtful”, he said disdainfully.
Pu Yi thought a moment. “May I ask you a question General? What rank were you when Russia fell to the communists?”
Semenov stared long and hard at Pu Yi, and then looked away. “A captain, in the cavalry.”
“Did you love your Tsar?” asked Pu Yi in a low voice. Semenov’s head whipped back to Pu Yi, and he could hear gasps and sharp intakes of breath from the other white Russian officers. “How could he ask that?” said one.
Moisture started to well in Semenov’s eyes and through clenched teeth, “Without reservation.”
Pu Yi’s guilt was ripping his heart at using this mans memories against him, but he had no choice…no choice. “In the last days, if the Tsar had come to you and said, ‘Captain, I have a mission for you. One that you shall not return from, but your sacrifice and those of these twenty-two men that you will lead, will save the empire, will save your Tsar, and countless future generations of good Russians’, would you have accepted?”
The welling in Semenov’s eyes was threatening to spill over. “Yes”, he said breathlessly.
Meeting Semenov’s gaze directly, Pu Yi continued. “I am not your Tsar, but I give you a choice General. If you refuse, you shall go anyway, but if you agree, I shall let you choose the way you go.” Pu Yi paused. “General, I have a mission for you. One that you shall not return from, but your sacrifice and those of these twenty-two men you will lead, will save Manchukuo, your Emperor, and countless future generations of good Manchurians. Will you accept?”
Semenov dropped his head. Another, General Kilitsin, said, “He cannot ask this. He cannot!” Semenov shook his head, as if in argument with himself, and then stopped. In a low husky voice, straining with emotion, “Yes…he can.”
Semenov raised his head. A tear slid from his left eye and slowly started to run down his cheek. Half way down, it froze, the frigid air not allowing it to fulfill its grief bound journey. The lights from the headlamps refracted from it, and Pu Yi could not take his eyes off it. “I accept your Majesty.”
Pu Yi continued to stare at the frozen tear. To the man next to him he said, “Remove their cuffs and manacles. They shall go across free men.”
The man hesitated momentarily and then started barking orders to the Manchurian guards. When Colonel Markin saw what they were doing, he protested. “What is this!” he demanded.
“Why nothing at all Colonel. I am merely letting these men march across the border of their own accord. Once across…” Pu Yi shrugged. Never having taken his eyes of Semenov, “General, please form your men and march them across.”
Semenov nodded. A moment later he drew himself to attention and saluted. Pu Yi was momentarily taken aback by this, and then slowly returned the salute. Semenov pivoted smartly. “Alright you sons of dogs, FORM UP!” the men shuffled to form lines. They dressed themselves, then came to attention. “RIGHT FACE! NOW…WHEN I GIVE THE ORDER, YOU WILL MARCH AS IF YOU WERE PARADING FOR THE EMPEROR HIMSELF! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!?”
“SIR, YES SIR!”, came the roaring reply.
“FORWARD, MARCH”, with that they started to march towards the border. One of the officers started to sing. It was a sad, mournful song, and shortly the others took it up. Pu Yi watched them all the way to the border, then turned and started to march towards his car. The man hustled to catch up and came up beside him. He looked sideways at Pu Yi and then turned his gaze straight ahead.
He had seen the frozen tear on his Emperor’s face.