War Trash: A Novel
Ha Jin
Language: English
Pages: 272
ISBN: 2:00068661
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
War Trash, the extraordinary new novel by the National Book Award–winning author of Waiting, is Ha Jin’s most ambitious work to date: a powerful, unflinching story that opens a window on an unknown aspect of a little-known war—the experiences of Chinese POWs held by Americans during the Korean conflict—and paints an intimate portrait of conformity and dissent against a sweeping canvas of confrontation.
Set in 1951–53, War Trash takes the form of the memoir of Yu Yuan, a young Chinese army officer, one of a corps of “volunteers” sent by Mao to help shore up the Communist side in Korea. When Yu is captured, his command of English thrusts him into the role of unofficial interpreter in the psychological warfare that defines the POW camp.
Taking us behind the barbed wire, Ha Jin draws on true historical accounts to render the complex world the prisoners inhabit—a world of strict surveillance and complete allegiance to authority. Under the rules of war and the constraints of captivity, every human instinct is called into question, to the point that what it means to be human comes to occupy the foremost position in every prisoner’s mind.
As Yu and his fellow captives struggle to create some sense of community while remaining watchful of the deceptions inherent in every exchange, only the idea of home can begin to hold out the promise that they might return to their former selves. But by the end of this unforgettable novel—an astonishing addition to the literature of war that echoes classics like Dostoevsky’s Memoirs from the House of the Dead and the works of Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen—the very concept of home will be more profoundly altered than they can even begin to imagine.
more capable officer in handling this case. Afterward he was reluctant to talk with me as casually as before. A week later Captain Larsen was demoted and transferred to a different prison camp. By order of Commissar Pei, a meeting was held among the leaders of our compound, presided over by our political instructor, Manpu. Wanren made self-criticism at the meeting and admitted that his vigilance had slackened. He said he was grateful to all the comrades who had helped him get the signed sheet
tiny holes. As I wondered what they were, a field of crabs, each just the size of a thumb, suddenly appeared at the mouths of the holes. But a moment later they all vanished from sight, retreating into their caves. I couldn’t help but marvel at the uniformity of their movement and involuntarily stopped in my tracks. “Get moving!” a tall GI shouted at me. We started out for the camp in the east. I was tense, unsure how long the march would be. But luckily among us there were several men with
suddenly grew disordered; several men turned their heads to the barbed-wire fence and whispered, “Someone’s dead.” A guard shouted “Kasseyo!” (“Move!”), but we stopped to watch. There on a thick fence post hung a man, bony and bareheaded. His tongue fell out all the way to his chest. One of his sleeves was missing and displayed his bruised arm, whose blood vessels and tendons were visible under the yellow skin. As I lifted my eyes to gaze at the face closely, I recognized him—Wanlin! I collapsed
normal. “Shell shock. He lost his mind,” said Dr. Li. “Can he hear?” an orderly asked. “I’m not sure.” “What should we do about him?” “We’d better send him back. It’ll take a long time for him to recover.” “I can’t believe this,” said Chang Ming, who had joined us for a while. “He’s such a strapping man, yet he lost his mind so easily.” The two orderlies helped the quartermaster to his feet and walked him toward a team of stretcher bearers who were going to carry the wounded back to our
now on my life would be easier and that they wouldn’t test me again. The pistol was never used in our later struggle. It was passed on to the North Korean prisoners, who already possessed some small firearms. The Communists always tested the men they suspected. I knew a number of such cases in the camp. One man was instructed to burn a warehouse storing provisions for the POWs, and under cover of darkness he torched not only the main house but also two stacks of timber nearby. The flames sprang