The Great Journey

By Kendran Brooks

Zeng He, a Chinese admiral, led a huge fleet seven times around Asia to India and as far as East Africa in the 15th century. He did not return from his last voyage. More than five hundred years later, Jules Lederer, a member of a Masonic lodge in London, is commissioned by the Grand Lodge to find out the whereabouts of Zeng He as part of the new Decade Project. An impossible task?
Two great stories are told in parallel. The life of Zeng He with all his adventures between 1382 and 1433, and the search of Jules Lederer and his scientific teams for the tomb of the great navigator in the years 2000 to 2009. Both project leaders struggle equally with competitors and intrigues, have to overcome countless difficulties to reach their goal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kendran Brooks
• Release date: Mar 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005731137

Kendran Brooks

Kendran Brooks is the pseudonym of a Swiss author. He writes adventure novels and short stories. Born in Switzerland, he grew up in Switzerland, enjoyed his education in Switzerland, worked almost exclusively in Switzerland and still lives in Switzerland today. First a businessman, then an accounting expert, he became self-employed as a management consultant in information technology, working for various international corporations. A few years ago, he retired from professional life and turned to writing. Now in his fifties, he is plagued by the usual ailments. Thinning hair, waist fat and galloping curmudgeonliness. He took his motto for life from the novel The Country Doctor by Honoré de Balzac: »Talking about useful things costs me no more than talking about superfluous stuff.«

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Kendran Brooks

The Great Journey

Third Adventure of Family Lederer

pb

First Edition (in German) as eBook 2010

Revised Version 2021

Translation to English: deepl.com/pro

Copyright © Kendran Brooks

Cover picture: Yongbo Zhu, Pixabay Berlin, Germany

Cover: Kendran Brooks, Switzerland

Table of Content

Prehistory

Yunnan, 1382

London 12 January 2000

China, 1382

London 13 January 2000

China, 1382

London - 15 March 2000

1405 - 1407 First voyage

2000 until 2003

1407 - 1409 Second voyage

2004 until 2006

1409 - 1411 Third voyage

2007 - 2008

1412 - 1414/15 Fourth Voyage

2008

1417 - 1419 Fifth voyage

2008

1421 - 1422/23 Sixth Voyage

November 2008

1431 - 1433 Seventh Voyage

November and December 2008

2009

Prehistory

After the Chinese rebel leader Zhu Yuanzhang was able to drive the Mongol rulers from the Chinese throne in 1369, he founded the Ming Dynasty (Great Brightness) in 1371. He appointed himself as the first emperor and gave himself the name Hongwu, which translated meant Violent Military Power.

Hongwu and his descendants ruled China for more than two hundred and fifty years. It was probably the most glorious period in the country's history. Militarily unassailable, Chinese culture set new standards, arts and sciences alike celebrated their peaks.

After his accession to the throne, Emperor Hongwu sent his ambassadors to all Mongolian provinces on the fringes of his newly created giant empire. He demanded unconditional submission and annual tribute payments from the local rulers.

The Mongol prince Basalawarmi from Yunnan province resisted the claims of what he saw as an unworthy Chinese upstart whose parents were only peasants. His response to Hongwu was to have the Chinese envoys murdered.

This is where the story begins.

Yunnan, 1382

As far back as I can remember, my parents, my siblings and I lived on a large estate on the outskirts of the city of Kunyang, now Kunming. My father was the most respected man in our area and was greatly revered by everyone. Sometimes he even got an invitation to the court of Prince Basalawarmi. Then he would put on his finest clothes and be carried there in a palanquin. Once, even the whole family was allowed to attend a feast of the prince. Basalawarmi had it organised in honour of his mother. I was so proud of my father.

You must know that our family moved to this land a long time ago. Many of my ancestors held important administrative posts time and again. Some had even been governors, as our father told us. But that time was long time ago and as a child I didn't really know what a governor was or what he did. But we could already hear from our father's reverent voice that this post entailed a lot of responsibility.

My childhood was quite harmonious, apart from the occasional scuffles with neighbourhood boys or the constant teasing of my four older sisters. They could be really mean, my sisters I mean.

It was a beautiful January morning. The sun was pale and just above the horizon. Nevertheless, its rays warmed our faces. Wrapped thickly in our coats, two of my sisters and myself sat outside at the table under the old plum tree. The courtyard to our house was surrounded by a high wall and a wide, wooden gate led out onto the main street. As was the case most of the time, it was open that morning as well, because from time to time people came to us who needed my father's advice or asked him to intercede with the prince.

Shu Lin and Mei Lin, two of my four sisters, had been trying to teach me to play chess for a few days. But that morning I was not quite on my game, kept looking up from the board and the pieces and out through the gate to the street without knowing why, just as if I had to expect someone from there. There was an inexplicable restlessness in me that made my legs constantly fidget.

Chess! my sister Shu Lin snapped at me, adding almost angrily, you'd better watch out, you dolt!

I jumped up and looked back at the board with the white and black pieces. One of their nimble horses had jumped over my so carefully built pawn defence and put my poor king at check. But that was not the whole misfortune. I realised in dismay that, in addition to the king, my queen was also threatened by the same attacker. I feverishly searched for a way out. Surely it must be possible to sweep my sister's beastly horse off the board and thus banish the danger to my noble house? But I found no one who could strike. No bishop, no rook was there to come to the aid of my royal family and even the peasantry did not care for their rulers. My sister's treacherous assassination attempt could no longer be thwarted.

Defiant and ashamed at the same time, I moved my king one square forward and right next to my queen. That way I at least got hold of my sister's horse when it was about to capture the strongest piece on my side.

To my astonishment, however, Shu Lin did not reach for her warhorse, but merely advanced one of her bishops two small squares. Then she looked at me with a diabolical smile and said: Check, my little fool.

I had completely overlooked this darned bishop. Up to that point, it had shown itself to be extremely uninvolved and had lurked in the background of the board. So there seemed to be no danger from him at all. And now this mean guy was suddenly threatening the supreme ruler of my house? My eyes widened as I realised the full extent of the misfortune more and more clearly. My king was completely hemmed in by his own and others' figures. He no longer had any possibility of escape. Moreover, the sacrificial vassals who could have thrown themselves between him and the enemy were missing. My gaze wandered feverishly from one figure to the other. This could not be. Indeed this could not be.

... and Matt, Shu Lin added triumphantly and mockingly as she read the hopelessness of my thoughts in my eyes.

Mei Lin, my other sister, laughed uproariously and slapped me on the forehead with the flat of her hand. I felt the blood rush to my head and stared at her in anger. My sisters were unfortunately older than me and our father had taught them this stupid game a few months ago. Since then, they had spent a lot of time practising. And when I too wanted to learn chess from my father, he just said I was too young to go to a battlefield. So, I only had the support of my sisters. But I had long been sure that Shu Lin and Mei Lin had not really been fair to me, for example, they had not explained all the strategies and feints of this complicated game. That was the only reason why I fell into their traps again and again. They just wanted to make fun of my constant failures.

Tears welled up in my eyes. That annoyed me even more, because the very next month I turned eleven. And a boy on the threshold of manhood wasn't allowed to cry any more, was he?

Angrily, I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and then the board. The pieces tumbled off the table into the sand. Then I jumped up angrily and wanted to run into the house to complain to my mother about the oh-so-mean sisters. But I didn't get that far. At that moment, a rider galloped from the main road, through the open gate and into our yard. He was sitting on a large, light-coloured horse with brown spots and a wild look in his eyes. The man yanked on the reins with such force that his mount sat on its hindquarters and slid another three or four metres through the sand until it finally stood. Already the man had dismounted and was looking around searchingly. It was a wild fellow, a Mongolian, with a long black moustache, the ends of which hung far down over his chin. He was dressed all in dark, greasy leather and his black eyes glared dangerously at us.

Where can I find Ma Hajji? he said breathlessly. My sisters and I stood there completely flabbergasted, unable to utter a word out of shock and excitement, but all three obediently stretched out an arm in the direction of the entrance to the house. The rider immediately took off, his first steps still stiff and stumbling from the wild ride. Nevertheless, he disappeared into the hallway after a few seconds, leaving the front door carelessly open.

We children looked at each other uncomprehendingly. What had happened? What did this wild Mongol want from our father? Was this a robbery? Was he perhaps a bandit? No, that could not be. The man's only visible weapon was a short dagger at his side. And he had not even taken it out of its sheath. But there was no such thing as a robbery without weapons. Even we children knew that.

Nevertheless, we approached the open entrance to the house very cautiously, involuntarily flocking together like frightened chickens that, although full of curiosity, follow a young dog but do not really trust it. But the attraction of a change from the daily monotony was stronger than the necessary caution.

We had not yet reached the doorstep when we heard our father's heavy footsteps turning the corner of the hallway inside. He stopped short and called loudly over his shoulder so that my mother could hear him in the kitchen: Lia Su? I have to leave. The Chinese army is at the Yunnan border and all armed men are called to rush to Prince Basalawarmi's aid. Please pack me provisions for a few days.

With these words, he disappeared into his room. He used it mainly for writing. But his leather armour, the short bow with the quiver full of arrows, his long sword and the pointed dagger were also kept in it.

The strange Mongolian rider had come up behind my father and stopped in the hallway, seeming to think about what to do next. Then he took off and ran straight towards us. We children pressed ourselves fearfully against the wall as he walked carelessly past us and into the courtyard. We watched him through the open door. He looked around outside and then took his horse in the direction of the stables, perhaps to feed the animal.

We children whispered to each other about what was going on. Chinese soldiers, my father had said. And Prince Basalawarmi needs his help. Was there perhaps a war? Was perhaps even Kunyang threatened?

When our father rejoined us in the hallway from his room, we flinched in fright. Until that day, we had always just gazed in awe at his armour on its rack in the corner. With its black leather, it always looked very threatening to us. At the same time, however, it shimmered mysteriously. And it smelled of great deeds. Sometimes I would sneak into the room and run my fingers gently over the leather flaps reinforced with iron fittings. I imagined myself going to war as a proud fighter and winning important battles.

Our father's sword had hung high on the wall, out of reach for us. It was forbidden for us children to even touch it. But now our father stood in front of us with helmet, armour and leg protection, the sword at his side, the dagger pushed behind his wide belt. He had the quiver with the arrows with the leather string around his shoulder and he held the bow in one hand. Never had our father seemed so strong, so invincible to us, but never so wild, strange, and dangerous.

He stepped towards us and stroked both my sisters' cheeks briefly and encouragingly with his index finger, then ran his big hand through my hair and over my scalp, so hard that it hurt me.

You must be brave now, my darlings. Be obedient and do what your mother tells you to do until I return.

Then he stalked off with long steps towards the kitchen. We followed him hesitantly, still distraught, saw him under the door giving our mother a tender kiss and then taking the bag with the provisions he had gathered.

Tell Wenming when he returns from the market to saddle a horse and ride to Uncle Pho's farm. There he is to stay until I send word.

I wonder what that meant again.

Our father would probably go to war with Prince Basalawarmi against the Chinese. And we had to stay here. But he sent our elder brother two days' journey away to Uncle Pho? Was Wenming perhaps threatened here with us? But then why didn't the father send his whole family there?

We children didn't know, we just looked distraught at our mother, who had buried her face behind her hands and began to sob. My father had long since stomped out of the kitchen and disappeared into the hallway. We only heard his heavy footsteps walking away towards the front door.

Shu Lin, Mei Lin, and I stopped by our mother and tried to comfort her. We grabbed her hands and stroked her forearms and also her back. But she hardly paid any attention to our caresses, nor did she stop crying. Then suddenly we heard two horses neighing loudly in the yard and all three rushed outside. The plume of dust still hung between the gateposts to the road. We would not see our father again.

London 12 January 2000

Dear Brothers, on behalf of the Executive Committee, I welcome you to our meeting today. It has only one agenda item, as you all know. But it is a special decision that we will take together today. It is about our new Decade Project.

The Chairman of the United Grand Lodge paused and looked around. Aron Finestone was fifty-five years old and had presided over the United Masonic Lodges of Great Britain for four years. The man exuded an aura of self-assurance and personal discipline. His short, hooked nose resembled the beak of an owl and his eyes, unnaturally magnified by rimless glasses with thick lenses, reinforced this impression. His face was framed by a white but still thick head of hair. He wore it unusually long for a man of his age and position, perhaps a last vestige of a formerly maladjusted nature that had been suppressed for a long time and in the interest of his professional activities.

His work as a partner in a highly respected London law firm over the last two decades had strengthened his inner self, had really steeled him. He was a well-read, prudent man, but he could also be tough. Professionally, he specialised in defending large companies in legal disputes with the European Union. His hourly fee was over a thousand pounds and he prided himself on being a highly sought-after man, nonetheless. But a corporation caught in the clutches of the EU, could expect fines in the hundreds of millions. Lawyers' fees, regardless of the amount, hardly mattered any more.

Among the masters of the Masonic Lodge sat the Swiss Jules Lederer. Next to him, his good London friend Henry Huxley had taken a seat on the long oak bench. It was Henry who had asked Jules, after their first adventure together three years ago if he could imagine becoming a freemason as well. Lederer was interested and Huxley recommended him to his Order, also accompanying him on his initiation path via entry as an apprentice, through the stage of journeyman to becoming one of the lodge masters.

Like everyone else in the room, Henry and Jules had turned their heads to the lectern and were looking eagerly at the chairman. Huxley, too, had been a representative of her London lodge in the United Grand Lodge for less than ten years and, like Lederer, was therefore attending the announcement of a new Decade Project for the first time. Jules wore a black dinner jacket, Henry opted for a dark blue suit with waistcoat. Like everyone else present, they had tied on the traditional white mason's apron and pinned various emblems to their lapels.

The motto for the entrance to the temple that evening was Once upon a time, an extremely apt keyword for the purpose of this occasion.

The walls of the underground temple room consisted of rough-hewn stones. On them hung paintings from three centuries. They depicted all the presidents of the United Grand Lodge since its founding in 1717. Some of the painters had already been highly sought-after artists at that time and were now highly traded. An appraiser would have been first delighted, then speechless, at the abundance of famous painters. He would have identified a whole series of works that had hitherto been kept from the experts and that would have fetched many millions of pounds at auction.

After a short pause, Chairman Finestone continued: Over the next ten years, we want to face and try to solve another mystery in human history. Lodge members from all over the country have sent us hundreds of unanswered questions. Some of our board members formed a project committee that evaluated all the submissions and weighted them according to interest, but also examined them for feasibility. The best three projects have been before the Board since last December. On behalf of the Board, I would like to thank the members of the committee for their immense preparatory work.

All Lodge representatives present already know the three proposals. We presented them in detail in our invitation. But which riddle of humanity will have to be solved by us this time was only finally decided by the Executive Committee last night.

Finestone paused and reached for his glass of still water on the table next to the lectern, sipped it briefly and then put it back again somewhat awkwardly, cleared his throat loudly and then let his calm gaze wander once more over all those present in the hall. He seemed to want to make sure that everyone was listening to him. Finally, he continued.

In view of the increasing economic importance of China in the world, we have decided to find out over the next ten years what voyages the imperial eunuch and admiral Zheng He made with his fleet in the fifteenth century. We want to find out which parts of the earth were actually visited and possibly settled by him. Is our European view of the discovery of the Earth correct? Or do we need to rewrite history?

Already at the mention of Zheng He, a general murmur had risen in the hall. Many of those present had guessed on one of the other two projects. Jules, on the other hand, smiled at Henry with great satisfaction, because he had just won a delicious bottle of Chateau Latour 1970 from his friend as a result of their little internal bet. Jules had bet on the great Chinese navigator, while Henry was convinced that this time they would track down the lost sun temple of the Chibchas in South America to finally settle the saga of Eldorado once and for all. Henry therefore looked at his friend rather contritely. He didn't care about the expensive bottle of wine. The Briton just didn't like to lose.

The chairman of the meeting picked up the small gavel from the lectern and struck the wooden plate next to it once, hard and banging. The discussing voices in the room instantly fell silent and heads jerked forward again to Finestone.

So, the exact question for project 32 is: Which countries and parts of the world did the so-called treasure fleet under the command of the chief eunuch Zheng He verifiably reach? Which discoveries must we attribute to him and his men? Why did the Chinese suddenly stop their sea voyages after 1433?

Again, Finestone paused for effect, letting his words sink in, before continuing resolutely.

As with each of our Decade Projects, we are now electing the responsible leader together. You all know that every member of the United Grand Lodge is obliged to accept any election and to contribute to the best of his ability. As always, the Lodge will provide the necessary funds. However, the organisation and management of the project rests entirely with the elected member. A project committee will supervise the activities of the project leader and will receive regular accounts from him on progress and costs.

A new sense of unease spread through the room because the candidates for the position of project leader had until then only been known to the board. That is why the eyes of everyone present were now even more glued to Finestone's lips as he continued to speak.

Four possible candidates were recommended to us in the past weeks. However, the directorate had to reject one from the outset. The reasons for this are confidential. However, we have three honourable and capable lodge members to choose from. They are Sinclair St James, Enrico Fabio della Rossa and Jules Lederer.

When Jules heard his name, he looked at Henry Huxley with surprise and annoyance at the same time. For the Swiss had not known of his nomination until now and he spontaneously suspected his London friend of being the author of this proposal.

Huxley's lips twisted into a broad smile and his eyes twinkled with amusement. In fact, it was he who had suggested his Swiss friend for the leadership of the new decade project. Jules merely shook his head in annoyance and whispered, You know very well how much time these projects take. Did you really have to do this to me?

The heads of the lodge members in their immediate vicinity jerked around to them. Some smiled smugly, others even mockingly at Jules' words.

You have our full support, my dear, Sir David Meyney-Thompson said to Jules' right and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. Before Jules could give a biting reply to this, the chairman's gavel fell again, banging on the lectern, to ensure silence. Finestone continued.

I do not need to introduce the three candidates to you. They are active Masters of our Lodge and well known to you all. You have already received the ballot papers when you arrived this evening. I now ask you to write down the name of the man you trust. Sinclair St James, Enrico Fabio della Rossa or Jules Lederer. The ushers will begin collecting it in a minute. Thank you.

Jules suppressed a curse, quickly wrote Enrico Fabio della Rossa on his piece of paper and folded it once. Enrico was clearly the most suitable man for the job in his eyes. The Italian had grown up in Genoa and had relatives in Venice, so he had connections in the two important seafaring cities of centuries long past, and against this background he could certainly familiarise himself most easily with the subject of Chinese seafaring.

Jules looked urgently at his seatmates and said somewhat tensely: I hope you won't choose me of all people, a man from landlocked Switzerland, to solve a question from seafaring. That would be a bad joke, wouldn't it?

He fell silent uncertainly as they lifted their faces one after the other and showed him with their open grins that they thought he had long been trapped. Jules Lederer was generally popular and those who had already done business with him thought highly of the Swiss. Perhaps many of those present actually trusted him to lead the new Decade Project?

The ushers quickly collected the slips of paper and two board members set about unfolding them one by one and distributing them in three piles.

As he did so, Jules felt more and more eyes on him. He just looked grimly at Henry and said in a rather bitter tone: I can't believe you're doing this to me, my friend. You know very well that as a self-employed businessman I have no time left to manage such a long and large project for the Lodge.

Henry looked at him apologetically, almost trustingly.

But Jules, as a responsible lodge member, surely I had to propose the best man in my eyes for the project? Anything else would have been completely wrong in principle. And look on the bright side. Each member can only be forced to lead a Decade Project for the Lodge once in his life. So, if you're elected today, you'll be in the clear for all time afterwards.

What a comforting thought, Jules sneered and then continued somewhat defiantly, but I won't be elected anyway. I'm sure the other members aren't that crazy.

Honoured Masters, dear Brothers, the result of the election is in, the piercing voice of Chairman Finestone reported back. The conversations among those present fell silent and faces jerked forward again to the lectern.

Elected with 338 votes is Jules Lederer. I congratulate our young member from Switzerland and wish him every success.

While Jules sat there in a daze, the last words of the chairman were lost in the thunderous applause of the others. Around five hundred lodge members had come that evening. Jules had received more than sixty percent of all possible votes. What a convincing result with three candidates. Jules reluctantly rose and went forward to the lectern. The clapping of hands erupted even more strongly and he first had to wave his hands placatingly a few times before the applause finally died down.

Dear brothers, I am very honoured by your trust in me and I accept the election as a matter of course. I assure you that I will put all my strength into our project and lead it safely to its goal. At the same time, however, I hold you all accountable. I remind you that according to our statutes you owe me all reasonable support. Over the next ten years, I may demand up to one hundred hours of hard work from each of you. And I assure you, I will make ample use of this right.

At these last, rather caustic words, laughter rose here and there and some began to clap again. Many members could understand that Jules did not really like taking on this task. Even though the management of a decade project was an extremely interesting and complex task, the time required was enormous.

Jules had meanwhile sat back down on the bench and looked bitterly at Henry.

Will you join me if I need you? was his curt question. Henry grinned and nodded briefly.

China, 1382

It had been two weeks since our father had left us. So far we had heard nothing from him. Early that morning, I went to the weekly market with two of my sisters because we wanted to buy some sweets. We quickly came to an agreement with the trader because he knew us and our family and didn't even try to rip us children off. We were still standing together at the edge of the large square, chewing the small, honey-sweet cakes with relish, when at one of the entrances to the market, just opposite us, a dozen fearsome tigers appeared, slowly riding into the square. They gathered in an open area next to the market stalls, got off their horses there stiff-legged and stared menacingly at the overly anxious market-goers. Their face masks looked terribly wild, painted red and yellow. Underneath, the soldiers wore thickly armoured armour with long swords. They remained motionless, one hand on the hilt of their weapon, the other holding the reins of their horses. They obviously seemed to be waiting for something.

We children stood breathlessly staring at the foreign soldiers. They were certainly not Mongolians, nor men from Yunnan. The soldiers with the tiger masks were much too tall for that. They had to be Chinese from the north.

The merchants began to hastily pack up their stalls and bring their goods to safety. The square quickly emptied. What remained were the waiting tigers, who continued to hold out motionless.

After a while, more groups of soldiers arrived, some on foot, others on horseback. Their number kept increasing until the entire square was filled with them. My sisters and I were still standing there, looking at the foreign warriors with fear and fascination at the same time. But suddenly our mother stood next to us and drove at us, Come home at once. This is not for children.

She led us back to the estate, through the gate and into the courtyard. The two house servants had been waiting for our return and hastily closed the wings behind us, also putting the heavy crossbar forward.

Into the house with you, our mother ordered in a stern voice, and we children obeyed without protest, went inside, and sat down on the cushions at the large table in the kitchen. Our mother paced nervously, looking out through the window at the courtyard again and again with a worried face. Then she suddenly began to cry. My sisters and I were dismayed and shocked by this change of mood, looking at each other without understanding. What had happened? Why was our mother crying? Was she so afraid of the foreign soldiers?

Suddenly, loud banging came from outside. Someone must have been standing in front of our gate, banging it hard with a club. A voice called out in Chinese: By order of General Xu Da, open up immediately.

My mother told us to stay in the kitchen. However, she herself went out the door into the courtyard. From there, her voice reached us.

Here is the house of the honourable Ma Hajji. There are only women, children, and a few servants here. Move on in peace.

But the man in front of the gate was not turned away by my mother's words, but shouted angrily, Open the gate immediately or all of you inside will die. We come on direct orders from General Xu Da and will not tolerate any opposition.

My sisters and I were startled by these words. We stood spellbound at the window, stretched our heads, and looked at our mother. She was standing a few metres in front of the gate, her back erect, a proud, aloof woman. She ordered our servants to remove the beam. Wang and Shin shuddered with fear, so terrified were they of what had kept the gate out until now. When the barrier was finally removed, the wings immediately swung open and five soldiers entered the courtyard with swords drawn, spread out and threatened our mother and the two servants. We children were terrified at the sight of them and involuntarily pressed closer together, but we continued to look outside, spellbound.

The leader of the five men ordered, Search the house and stable and bring everyone to the farm.

The other four soldiers started moving. Two headed for the stable, two entered the house, found us after a few seconds and while one of them pushed us outside, the other searched the other rooms.

In the courtyard we had to line up. My mother looked fixedly at the leader of the horde. She no longer seemed to feel any fear towards the chinese, showing the dangerous-looking man a proud contempt. She radiated so much strength and security that she seemed to impress even this tough soldier. I admired my mother at that moment more than ever before. She was a true warrior and an extremely worthy wife for my father.

When the other three soldiers had also returned and reported to their leader that they had found no one else, he turned to my mother: Is this your only son? and with that he pointed at me with his sword.

Yes, my mother lied, her voice sounding clear and firm, his name is He and he is ten years old.

He's coming with us, the leader said harshly and firmly, then added, the rest of you stay here.

With that, everything was said. Two soldiers grabbed me under the armpits and lifted me effortlessly and turned to leave, while my mother cried out and lunged at the leader. However, he brutally hit her in the face with his fist and she fell to the ground in a daze. My sisters began to cry screaming and I hung, shaking with fear, between the two tall soldiers, feeling their hard fingers on my upper arms, feeling their rigid leather armour through my trouser legs. Terrified, I was unable to resist, to scream or even to cry.

*

I don't know how long we children were locked in that damp cellar. Just a few days? Or even many weeks? The time seemed endless and we had long since stopped counting the meals they regularly brought in. They were the only minutes when the blackness around us was illuminated by a few oil lamps.

After entering Kunyang, the soldiers had rounded up all the boys in the village square. Here we squatted on the ground for quite a while until the last house had been searched. Then we were led out on the main road to the city. We walked for hours through the dust until the first of us fell down from weakness and could walk no further. A camp for the night was set up off the road and we children were given a cup of water and a bowl of porridge to eat. The next morning, we continued walking all day and into the night. Our feet had long since blistered and many of us staggered with every step, threatening to fall over from weakness. None of us knew where we were or where we were being taken. We had long since turned off the main road onto a side path that led us between high hills. It was already dark when a huge farmstead appeared in front of us in the glow of a few lamps. The buildings were made entirely of stone and were three storeys high. I had never seen such a big house before, apart from Prince Basalawarmi's palace. We were led through a portal into the interior. There we had to descend a stone staircase. The light from the few lamps cast bizarre shadows on the walls and most of us children were afraid of them, for they looked like dragons or evil spirits that could attack and devour us at any moment. The youngest ones started crying again and were immediately snapped at roughly by the Chinese soldiers. Downstairs we went down a long corridor with many doors. At its end, one of them was open and we were pushed into a large but low room. Some straw was spread on the floor and it smelled musty and of alcohol. Perhaps it had been used as a storage room for rice wine.

We had to sit down, then the soldiers went out, shut the door behind them and it became dark around us. Many children cried for their mother or father out in fear for quite a while. We cried together and felt abandoned by the world. But after a while we got tired, cuddled up to each other and fell asleep exhausted.

Since our arrival, there has been neither day nor night for us, only an opening door with bright lamplight, food quickly distributed and hastily gulped down, and long waiting in darkness.

At some point, however, the door remained open after a meal. We had to strip naked and then line up in two rows. Then we were led out through the door into the corridor and from there up the stairs. It became brighter and brighter around us, we saw daylight flooding in from above through a window, felt a rising excitement within us.

We stepped out through the portal into the glaring sun. Half blind, we stumbled down two steps into the courtyard and I suddenly felt sand under the soles of my bare feet, sticky sand. My eyes still watered and ached as if someone were poking needles into them, so much did the light of the sun burn them. Only after a while did my vision clear and I recognised a wide courtyard in front of me, where other groups of naked boys were standing, squatting or lying, surrounded by soldiers. Painful and frightened children's cries sounded from all around us and when I looked at the ground I realised that the sand around us was all brown and stank horribly sweet.

A Chinese man with a leather, stained apron joined our group. He held a bloody knife in his hand. Two soldiers wordlessly grabbed the first of us by his arms and pushed him towards the man with the apron. He reached between the boy's legs, pulled on his private parts, and then cut them off with a rip of his sharp blade.

The boy cried out in fright, not yet having understood what had happened to him. The man with the knife carelessly dropped his limb with the scrotum into a basket. Then the next one of us came up, was led by two other soldiers to the man with the knife, one cut and another penis landed in the basket. The rest of us children stood frozen in horror, unable to believe what we were seeing. Then the first of us pushed out of the ring of adults, wanting to escape from them. But the men held us together, slapped us or hit our heads hard with their knuckles, so that we saw stars and quickly huddled together again. So, most of us surrendered to our fate, like sheep facing the slaughter. Each of us took our turn, was grabbed by two