Search for the Buried Bomber

CHAPTER 24





The Eternal Wave



It wasn't that we were stupid, we just didn't know what Pei Qing meant. At the time, nobody knew anything about telegraphs except for that di-di-di sound they made in the movies. And you young folks born after the seventies, even if you'd watched a bunch of old movies, would you therefore know, upon hearing a rhythmic series of knocks, that it was some kind of meaningful signal? I doubt it. Thus it was truly incredible to us that Pei Qing could make some kind of connection. Finally, it was Little Zhao who said something. "Engineer Pei, do you mean that the sound we're hearing is a telegram?"

"Listen," said Pei Qing. "Do you hear that—pa-pa-pa-pa, pa. It starts over every thirty-four seconds." He raised his arm and glanced at his watch. "Each time the duration is exactly the same." He looked over at us. "It's not a person on the other end of the line. It's an automatic transmitter on a loop."

"Are you sure?" asked Old Cat, narrowing his eyes at Pei Qing.

Pei Qing nodded several times, then turned to Little Zhao. "During basic training, did you communication soldiers memorize telegraphic code?"

Little Zhao nodded, chagrined. "But I've pretty much forgotten it all."

"Will it come back to you if you listen to the code?" asked Pei Qing. He gave the phone to Little Zhao and asked us for a piece of paper. I had no idea what was going on, but I took a workbook from my pocket and handed it over. Little Zhao's brows wrinkled as if he were being forced to do something against his will. With a great show of effort he put his ear to the phone and listened for the code.

To this day I still have that notebook. Here is what he wrote down:

281716530604714523972757205302260255297205222232

After he finished, we stared uncomprehendingly at the string of numbers he'd written. Looking over the numbers once more, Little Zhao stated confidently that it was a message in standard Chinese telegraphic code. Chinese telegraphic code has codes for about seven thousand different characters. Even a professional telegraph operator often needs a codebook to interpret lesser-used characters. What hope was there for Little Zhao, who'd been trained in no more than the fundamentals? Still, he split the numbers into groups of eight, giving him six phrases, though among these he could understand only the most commonly used codes.

Extreme28171653

—06047145

—23972757

Us20530226

Stop02552972

—05222232

Based on these few characters, all we could determine was that the person or people who'd set the automatic telegraph weren't Japanese. We passed the text around so everyone could take a look, but it was only for show. We merely took it up, moved our eyeballs symbolically, and passed it on, like the text of a long presentation being passed around some basic-level meeting. Only two people—I remember this very clearly—examined the text in great detail. One was Old Cat; the other was Pei Qing. Old Cat scanned it once, his brow wrinkling immediately. Pei Qing, on the other hand, stared at it, biting his lower lip all the while. Then, suddenly, he spoke up: "I think I understand it."

We all turned to him at once. "My father was our town's telegraph operator," said Pei Qing. "When I was little, I would translate messages for him. I've probably seen codes for more than a thousand different characters. Now, when I send telegrams, I write the code directly. I don't need a postal worker to translate it for me."

We looked at him as if he were some kind of supernatural being. Old Cat's face had turned pale. "What does it say?" he asked.

Pei Qing leaned over the desk, snatched my notebook from me, and began to scrawl. We crowded around, several of us fishing out cigarettes. As he worked, we smoked and observed his progress. He had memorized the translation for the code and was writing the correlated word next to each group of eight numbers. At last, he handed us the notebook to see what he had written:

Extreme28171653

Danger06047145

Save23972757

Us20530226

Stop02552972

Prospecting05222232

"The telegram is a cry for help!" several of us gasped.

Everything then happened extremely fast. As Old Cat looked at the translated text, faint beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He told Old Tang to gather everyone together. We had to set off at once. They were in danger, he said, and we couldn't delay for an instant.

In reality, we were all aware that this ghostly transmission had been sent some time ago. The sender had probably already suffered some untimely fate. Still, it was our duty as the rescue team to assume the best. We had to believe the people we were tasked with rescuing were still alive. While we were readying our equipment, Old Cat stopped a few of us and said we had to stay here. Something bad had surely happened up ahead, he said. We were completely in the dark about the danger awaiting us. If we all entered together and whatever happened to the other team befell us as well, our entire group would be annihilated. A few of us needed to stay behind and form the second echelon. Once the first unit made it safely, they would send someone back to notify us.

We objected. How could they expect us to go along with this? "Why don't you guys be the second echelon?" said Wang Sichuan. "I'd never do anything so cowardly."

Old Cat just shook his head. "Right now this is a military operation," he said, "and Old Tang has the most weight around here. This is what he wants. Obey orders! In any case, all of you are injured. Staying behind is in your best interest."

Saying this, he walked off. Wang Sichuan bristled, but after Old Cat mentioned the word orders, he could no longer protest. Everyone knew that Old Tang was a softie. These orders must have come from Old Cat himself.

He hadn't gone more than a few steps when he suddenly turned back. "You can understand telegraphic code," he said to Pei Qing. "That'll probably come in handy. They'll stay here, but you come along."

Pei Qing seemed to have been expecting this. Smirking, he turned to us. "Take good care of the place!" he said, his voice sickening. Wang Sichuan was so angry he was almost spitting blood.

We watched them board the three boats and quickly push off from the bank. The person at the head of each shined his flashlight along the cave walls, searching for the power cables. Twenty minutes later, all three had disappeared into the dark of the cave, their noises moving farther and farther away. I was not accustomed to the sudden quiet that descended upon us. Looking around, we discovered that, in addition to Wang Sichuan and I, the deputy squad leader and three engineering corpsmen had also been left behind. All at once I felt a kind of sadness.

What should we do now? Wang Sichuan asked me. All I could say was that Old Cat had a point. We were injured. There was no denying it. In a way he had been doing us a favor. All five of us squatted down. Even the deputy squad leader looked crestfallen. A soldier doesn't fear death, only that he might be unable to join the battle. There was nothing to do but look for a few cigarettes to console them with. As I reached into my pocket, I was given a start. I withdrew my hand. There was another note.