Every one who experienced Nanjing Massacre would think it was a nightmare, why are they still willing to speak out time by time, because they want to explore the true of cruel Nanjing Massacre, the following are some interviews of the suriviors:
these are Chinese prisoners of war who were recuperating from amputations in the Japanese concentration camp in Nanking in early spring of 1938. On the wall is written 'Medics.'
WANG, Guiying
My name is Guiying Wang. We lived at 8 Catholic Church Back Street in 1937. Our family relied on my dad pulling rickshaws and my mom washing clothes for other people. I was 9 at the time and my younger sister Guihua Wang was only 3.
On the day that the Japanese soldiers came into town, my mom, aunt, sister and I were all hiding in our home. I did not know where my dad and uncle hid. We were terrified, praying to heaven that the Japanese would not come to our home. But terrible things still happened. One of the Japanese soldiers kicked our door open, followed by another. They held bayonets in their hands. When they saw my mother and aunt, they grabbed them, one by one. My sister was frightened and started crying, holding tightly onto my mother. The Japanese soldier kicked my sister on the right side of her head. Blood came out and it was all over her face. I was so terrified that I started to cry as well. The other Japanese soldier stabbed my head with his bayonet. To this day there is still a scar on my head. When he saw me covering my head with my arms he bayoneted my left hand. They raped my mother and aunt. After they left, mother and aunt told us not to tell dad and uncle.
The Japanese soldier kicked my sister with such force that a piece of her scalp on the right side was missing. I was very scared. I used rags to help to clean her wounds but the bleeding would not stop. I carried her outside to a pond to wash her wounds. The pond was contaminated and filled with blood. I did not know any better way and washed my sister with the pond water, and later her wound got infected. It took a year for the wound to heal and left her scars.
My uncle started treating aunt badly because he could not accept the fact that she was raped by the Japanese. My aunt suffered from depression and went crazy within a year. She died in 1949.
We can never forget the misery and suffering the Japanese military have brought upon us.
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ZHANG, Xiuhong
Interviewed in 2008
My name is Xiuhong Zhang. I was 12 when the Japanese military invaded Nanjing. Our whole family of six, my grandfather, mother, father and two sisters were living in Shazhou Dyke at the time.
It was in early December of 1937. People in our village were talking about the news of Japanese coming into our village, about what they would do -- burning our homes -- when they entered our village. So we took our blankets and went to sleep in the open fields, fearing that we would be killed if we slept in our homes when they burned it. They did not come. After a few days, grandpa took us back to our home because sleeping in the fields was wet and cold. To our surprise, right after we moved back to our home, the Japanese came. The one Japanese who came to our house had pale skin. He had a sword hanging around his waist but he seemed to be amiable. He looked around inside our home and then left. Our family was quite relieved, thinking that the Japanese were not like what was said about them -- killing everybody they saw. But who would know that the Japanese who came to our home that day was only the first to come. More Japanese came the next day. They wore big boots and had sideburns. They took us all to open grounds and separated men from women. They examined each male closely to see if they had calluses on their palms or marks on their heads from wearing the army hat. They pulled those who had calluses and hat marks together and insisted that those over a dozen young males in our village were members of the Kuomintang army and were going to shoot them. The families of these young men cried and pleaded to the Japanese that they were not from the army but it was useless. We were lucky that no one from our family was killed.
The next day, I was at home with my grandfather. A Japanese soldier came. He had a beard covering his whole face and pointed his bayonet at my grandfather, telling my grandpa that he wanted young women. My grandfather said there were none and he pointed his bayonet at me. My grandfather knelt down and pleaded to him that I was too young and making hand gestures to tell him that I was only 12. But the Japanese soldier still would not give up. He was going to stab my grandfather. I said to my grandfather naively that all would be fine and let me go and see what he dared to do to me. My grandfather did not want to let me go. I said, “Grandpa, if I don’t go, you will die and I will die too.” The Japanese devil dragged me to the bed, stripped me of my pants, and got on top of me. I went unconscious from the sharp pain. When I woke up, my grandfather was sitting beside me and crying: “What can I do, Hongzi (my nickname)!” The pain was so bad that I could not get up and there was blood all over the bed. Grandfather found a rope to tie my legs together because my lower body [genital] was torn by the Japanese, a disability I had to live with ever since. Because of this, it took me 3 whole days and nights to give birth to my son. I almost died giving birth. I dared not to have any more kids after that. To this day, I still suffer from pains from the lower body on rainy days; it is too painful to go to sleep.
My grandfather knew that home was not a safe place for me anymore, so he hid me in the haystacks to recover. But the Japanese would not stop harassing us. After they saw that I was not there, they came looking everywhere for me. I did not dare to make any noise inside the hay stacks. The Japanese soldiers would bayonet the hay to see if anyone was hiding there. Their bayonets were long. One of them cut my left pinky. I did not make a sound and thus saved my life. The Japanese soldiers left and I healed my wounds in the hay stacks.
After I got out, my family shaved my head to resemble a monk and gave me boy clothes to wear. Because I am the oldest child in my family, I needed to help the family with farm work. One day, some Japanese came into our village. One of them said to me, “hey girl” and made rude remarks in Japanese. I replied: “What are you talking about, can’t you tell that I am male?” And then they started laughing. Some Japanese came and committed robbery in our village. They took the chickens and many other food items. They even made me help them to carry those things to where they lived. I was short and was not strong. When they saw that I was tired and falling behind, they would use the bayonet to poke me. Blood was visible even through the cotton padded coat. My back was full of bayonet cuts. I was fortunate that the Japanese let me go after I took the things to their place.
We lived in hell like this for several months. It was horrible. When settlement came in April and May the following year, I still saw corpses when I went to work with my family in the fields.
I got married after China was liberated. My husband was also a Nanjing Massacre survivor. He was captured by the Japanese as a labourer. He did not look down upon me and was sympathetic to my sufferings in the past. I was happy. Because I was raped by the Japanese, I had a hard time giving birth. It took me 3 days and nights to give birth to a son. My child and I almost died together on the birth bed. That’s why we did not dare to have a second child.
My name is Guiying Wang. We lived at 8 Catholic Church Back Street in 1937. Our family relied on my dad pulling rickshaws and my mom washing clothes for other people. I was 9 at the time and my younger sister Guihua Wang was only 3.
On the day that the Japanese soldiers came into town, my mom, aunt, sister and I were all hiding in our home. I did not know where my dad and uncle hid. We were terrified, praying to heaven that the Japanese would not come to our home. But terrible things still happened. One of the Japanese soldiers kicked our door open, followed by another. They held bayonets in their hands. When they saw my mother and aunt, they grabbed them, one by one. My sister was frightened and started crying, holding tightly onto my mother. The Japanese soldier kicked my sister on the right side of her head. Blood came out and it was all over her face. I was so terrified that I started to cry as well. The other Japanese soldier stabbed my head with his bayonet. To this day there is still a scar on my head. When he saw me covering my head with my arms he bayoneted my left hand. They raped my mother and aunt. After they left, mother and aunt told us not to tell dad and uncle.
The Japanese soldier kicked my sister with such force that a piece of her scalp on the right side was missing. I was very scared. I used rags to help to clean her wounds but the bleeding would not stop. I carried her outside to a pond to wash her wounds. The pond was contaminated and filled with blood. I did not know any better way and washed my sister with the pond water, and later her wound got infected. It took a year for the wound to heal and left her scars.
My uncle started treating aunt badly because he could not accept the fact that she was raped by the Japanese. My aunt suffered from depression and went crazy within a year. She died in 1949.
We can never forget the misery and suffering the Japanese military have brought upon us.
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ZHANG, Xiuhong
Interviewed in 2008
My name is Xiuhong Zhang. I was 12 when the Japanese military invaded Nanjing. Our whole family of six, my grandfather, mother, father and two sisters were living in Shazhou Dyke at the time.
It was in early December of 1937. People in our village were talking about the news of Japanese coming into our village, about what they would do -- burning our homes -- when they entered our village. So we took our blankets and went to sleep in the open fields, fearing that we would be killed if we slept in our homes when they burned it. They did not come. After a few days, grandpa took us back to our home because sleeping in the fields was wet and cold. To our surprise, right after we moved back to our home, the Japanese came. The one Japanese who came to our house had pale skin. He had a sword hanging around his waist but he seemed to be amiable. He looked around inside our home and then left. Our family was quite relieved, thinking that the Japanese were not like what was said about them -- killing everybody they saw. But who would know that the Japanese who came to our home that day was only the first to come. More Japanese came the next day. They wore big boots and had sideburns. They took us all to open grounds and separated men from women. They examined each male closely to see if they had calluses on their palms or marks on their heads from wearing the army hat. They pulled those who had calluses and hat marks together and insisted that those over a dozen young males in our village were members of the Kuomintang army and were going to shoot them. The families of these young men cried and pleaded to the Japanese that they were not from the army but it was useless. We were lucky that no one from our family was killed.
The next day, I was at home with my grandfather. A Japanese soldier came. He had a beard covering his whole face and pointed his bayonet at my grandfather, telling my grandpa that he wanted young women. My grandfather said there were none and he pointed his bayonet at me. My grandfather knelt down and pleaded to him that I was too young and making hand gestures to tell him that I was only 12. But the Japanese soldier still would not give up. He was going to stab my grandfather. I said to my grandfather naively that all would be fine and let me go and see what he dared to do to me. My grandfather did not want to let me go. I said, “Grandpa, if I don’t go, you will die and I will die too.” The Japanese devil dragged me to the bed, stripped me of my pants, and got on top of me. I went unconscious from the sharp pain. When I woke up, my grandfather was sitting beside me and crying: “What can I do, Hongzi (my nickname)!” The pain was so bad that I could not get up and there was blood all over the bed. Grandfather found a rope to tie my legs together because my lower body [genital] was torn by the Japanese, a disability I had to live with ever since. Because of this, it took me 3 whole days and nights to give birth to my son. I almost died giving birth. I dared not to have any more kids after that. To this day, I still suffer from pains from the lower body on rainy days; it is too painful to go to sleep.
My grandfather knew that home was not a safe place for me anymore, so he hid me in the haystacks to recover. But the Japanese would not stop harassing us. After they saw that I was not there, they came looking everywhere for me. I did not dare to make any noise inside the hay stacks. The Japanese soldiers would bayonet the hay to see if anyone was hiding there. Their bayonets were long. One of them cut my left pinky. I did not make a sound and thus saved my life. The Japanese soldiers left and I healed my wounds in the hay stacks.
After I got out, my family shaved my head to resemble a monk and gave me boy clothes to wear. Because I am the oldest child in my family, I needed to help the family with farm work. One day, some Japanese came into our village. One of them said to me, “hey girl” and made rude remarks in Japanese. I replied: “What are you talking about, can’t you tell that I am male?” And then they started laughing. Some Japanese came and committed robbery in our village. They took the chickens and many other food items. They even made me help them to carry those things to where they lived. I was short and was not strong. When they saw that I was tired and falling behind, they would use the bayonet to poke me. Blood was visible even through the cotton padded coat. My back was full of bayonet cuts. I was fortunate that the Japanese let me go after I took the things to their place.
We lived in hell like this for several months. It was horrible. When settlement came in April and May the following year, I still saw corpses when I went to work with my family in the fields.
I got married after China was liberated. My husband was also a Nanjing Massacre survivor. He was captured by the Japanese as a labourer. He did not look down upon me and was sympathetic to my sufferings in the past. I was happy. Because I was raped by the Japanese, I had a hard time giving birth. It took me 3 days and nights to give birth to a son. My child and I almost died together on the birth bed. That’s why we did not dare to have a second child.
