Xu Lei - Search for the Buried Bomber

Wang Sichuan’s eyes lit up and we jumped to our feet. Everybody ran over to see what it was. There, on the ceiling, amid a profusion of stalactites, was the U-shaped form of a power cable. It was thick as a man’s arm, extending down the cave in one direction and to the foot of the cave wall and into the water in the other. As I stood beside the cable, I began to hear the sound of fingernails scratching on stone, just as we’d heard through the rocks atop the iron door. This time, however, the noise was the static produced by electricity coursing through the cable. The corpsmen became very excited. The existence of this cable meant there was some kind of electrical equipment nearby. Whatever generator the Japanese had used, it wouldn’t have produced enough power to go very far. A power cable thus meant we weren’t far from our goal. But how could an electrical cable here still have power? Could the generator still be running? Old Tang had several of the corpsmen form a human ladder to raise him up. The cable was decayed from decades of water erosion, and calcium carbonate had formed thickly around it, pinning it to the stalactites. It could not be pulled free. Old Tang ordered the deputy squad leader into the water to see what the cable connected to.

The deputy squad leader removed his clothes and followed the layers of rock terrace to the river’s edge. With one hand tracking the course of the cable, he dove under. We watched as he swam out, submerging one moment, coming up for air the next. Soon enough his flashlight beam was swallowed up by the dark of the cave. We hurriedly launched one of the rafts and paddled out after him. In a moment we’d rowed to the middle of the river. We could see the deputy squad leader’s flashlight shining from beneath the water. We watched as the beam moved back and forth, then stopped and began to float toward the surface. Seconds later there was a splash of water and the deputy squad leader emerged, gasping for breath. In one fell swoop he hauled himself into the boat.

We anxiously helped him sit down and gave him a towel to dry his face. Unable to bear the suspense, Wang Sichuan asked what was down there. It took the deputy squad leader a minute to regain his breath. Then he stammered out, “A plane! The wreckage of a plane is lying on the river bottom!”

Aplane? Could we have reached the end of the cave, thirty six hundred feet underground? Impossible! According to the barometer, we weren’t even halfway there. And if the mysterious bomber really was lying on the river bottom, at least some of it would break the surface. Our flashlights would definitely have been able to illuminate the cross of its shadowy hulk, but here the river was a sheet of darkness. We could make out nothing.

“Is it the bomber?” asked Wang Sichuan.

The deputy squad leader shook his head. “It’s a little puddle jumper,” he said. The plane, he said, was sturdily chained to an iron track running along the river bottom and seemed to have been completely destroyed.

Being freshly injured, I had to stay out of the water. Although I was burning with excitement, I could only watch as those around me jumped into the river one after another, each vying to be the first to the bottom. They had been inspecting the wreck for about an hour when Old Tang called us back to shore. Once on dry land, the swimmers breathlessly described the underwater scene while they dried themselves off. We made a sketch according to their description of the plane. It wasn’t until much later that we learned this was a very rare model indeed. An aerodynamics engineer at the Air Force Academy recognized it as a smaller version of the Ki-102 series. If we’d really discovered one down there, the professor said, it would demonstrate how seriously the Japanese regarded this place. Back then the Ki-102 was still a relatively new model of night fighter.

At the time, though, we’d seen only a small number of planes, and our understanding of them was limited. All we knew for sure was that the power cable led to the wreckage of a small plane lying atop an iron railway at the bottom of the river. There was also some strange piece of machinery wedged into a crevice in the rock. Presumably it was the control for the mining track. The wings of the plane had been snapped completely off and the nose was smashed beyond recognition. Perhaps it was the victim of some crash landing. The real question was, however, what was it doing here? To keep finding things where they shouldn’t be is the definition of strange. “Strange.” That still seems the right way to think about the whole situation.

Wang Sichuan went so far as to ask whether the Japanese might have constructed an underground arsenal here, storing the planes that they didn’t have time to transport. Should they ever have to repel an assault on their position, they would be ready.

I couldn’t see the point of spending so much effort storing a bunch of planes in a cave. The Japs might do things a little strangely, I said, but they weren’t fools. We shouldn’t turn them into stereotypically idiotic movie villains who could do nothing more than run around cursing “b akayaro ” all the time.

Those who’d stayed behind wanted to take a look for themselves, but Old Tang didn’t want to take any further risks and sternly denied them. They had no choice but to crowd around Wang Sichuan and implore him to keep talking about what he’d seen. He was only too happy to oblige, continuing to brag and boast about the experience.

Old Tang and Old Cat were also excitedly discussing what had just happened. Now that we’d located a power cable, they guessed the path ahead would be much smoother. The existence of the iron track also suggested that the terrain should begin to even out. Rather than waste any more time here, they decided to continue on immediately. As soon as the order was given, we quickly organized our belongings, dressed, and set out once more.

We followed the cable along the cave wall, advancing slowly, and before long came upon an emergency light. This part of the cave had once been highly developed. It would be a smooth road ahead. Now Old Cat felt there was no need for delay. We floated for two or three kilometers without break, finally coming across a giant tangle of power cables converged on the roof of the cave. Old Tang inspected it for a moment and said there was definitely a generator somewhere nearby. Turning the next corner, we saw a large twostory concrete scaffold erected on the side of the cave wall. Just a little farther down from this scaffolding, level with the river, gaped the black maw of a sinkhole, fenced on all sides by iron railings. A chaos of power cables emerged from within. Old Tang said this was a power distribution center and that the generator was located somewhere inside. He was positive one of the power cables snaking their way out of the sinkhole would lead to the end of the cave. I noticed a guard post perched atop the scaffold. It had a searchlight and was covered in iron netting. Then someone cried out and we all snapped to the direction he was looking. On the lower level of the scaffold were two army tents, along with packs and sleeping bags of the kind we were used to. With one glance we knew this gear didn’t belong to the Japanese. It had been set up only recently.

Old Cat immediately stood up. “Get closer,” he said to Old Tang.

Even though it was built by the Japanese, I nonetheless felt a sense of comfort climbing onto the concrete base. After all, we’d been traveling through barren and inhospitable terrain for some time now. Painted on the scaffold were partially rubbed-off characters that read: ” saki Heavy Industries Joint Unit 076.” The first floor of the scaffold was dry, and we discovered that, sure enough, these were PLA tents. This was someone’s temporary campsite. As suspected, another prospecting team had entered the cave before us. Even though I had long been sure that this was the case, to have the proof right in front of me set my mind much more at ease. None of our groups had brought tents. That this team had kept theirs suggested there were women among their number, and most likely more than one. Yuan Xile and the rest of her unit must have made it all the way here.