Martin of Manchuria

Dr. S. H. Martin had built St. Andrews Hospital in Manchuria. It was a time when there was great fear and uncertainty in the community.

Excerpt from the book, Martin of Manchuria: A Torch in the Storm, from the chapter “Life Goes On”.

One day at the hospital, Stan was called from his clinic office into the hallway where there was a great commotion. Patients, staff and visitors quickly gathered around. A group of Chinese soldiers with their fur caps, ragged uniforms and padded boots were standing over two men writhing on the floor. The men were bound with their hands tied behind their backs. Their faces were scratched and bruised, and blood seeped from their clothing on to the floor.

The soldiers spoke in Chinese, hastily bowing to Stan as he approached. “Min Dai Foo,” (Honorable Dr. Min) one said. “These are opium sellers. They are criminals. They are to be executed, but they are badly wounded now. We leave them in your care.

Please tend to them and we’ll be back for them later.”

The absurdity of their logic, healed to be executed, flashed through Stan’s mind, but without hesitation, he said to the soldiers,

“I’ll be glad to take care of them, while they’re in my hospital. Please unbind them.”

The soldiers did so and left. The crowd dispersed and the men were hastily carried on stretchers to the operating room.

Stan was glad he could speak in Chinese to the terrified wounded men. They were suffering from bullet wounds, but fortunately not in vital places. Soon they were sedated, their bleeding stopped, and they were resting in hospital beds.

The days went by, but there were no signs of the soldiers coming back for the men. One night as Stan was making his rounds he said to the two Chinese patients, who were ambulatory now and sitting in their beds, “I recommend for you fresh air and exercise.”

The men understood immediately what he meant.

The next morning the two men had escaped, but in their beds were gifts – bolts of silk and some frozen tangerines, precious as gold in these days because they had been imported from Japan.

When the soldiers came back to the hospital and found that the men were gone, they were complacent about it. The hospital, after all, was not a prison and they hadn’t left a guard.

Some months went by before alarming news came to the compound. A large group of bandits was terrorizing the villages to the north, and there was no way of knowing where they would strike next. The missionaries gathered at the Scotts’ house to discuss the situation. There was nothing to do but pray and wait. Faithful Korean friends brought any small bit of news. Life had to go on, and each family continued in their duties.

Then one afternoon, a large group of keesaeng, dancing girls from the wine shops, crowded through the hospital gate and into the hospital. They were terrified. When Stan and the Korean staff faced them to inquire what was going on, they wailed, “Save us! Hide us! We’ve just heard that the bandits are on the edge of town coming this way!”

Stan understood the situation immediately and said, “Of course, you may stay here.”

To the nurses he said, “Take them to the basement. They’ll be safe there. Also tell the cook to prepare soup and rice for many people.”

To Chungsi, the hospital water carrier, he said, “Go to Mrs. Martin and the children and the single ladies and tell them all to gather at the Scott’s house. Quickly! Quickly!”

Stan told the story of the next events.

I went down to the gate with my faithful staff members to see what would happen. We were standing under the flagpole with the British flag, symbol of Great Britain’s protection, but my heart and mind were praying for the greater protection of God. There was no sign of danger yet but I knew the bandits were primarily thieves, and the temptation would be great for them to loot the homes of the ‘foreign devils.’ I thought of Margaret and my little girls. I hoped the doors and locks of the Scott’s house were strong. I wondered what the families were doing just then. Praying, like I am I’m sure.

We didn’t have long to wait. At the far edge of the plain in front of the hospital, a large group of about forty men became visible. They were marching, marching straight towards us. The dust was rising from their tramping feet and as they approached we could see they were heavily armed. They had guns and some had two or three bandoliers of cartridges around their waists. Frankly, we froze with terror as we watched. They came closer and closer.

Suddenly, one of the men broke rank and rushed up to a man who seemed to be the leader. This man was shouting and pointing toward our little group at the gate. Faintly, we heard his shouts in the distance, ‘Min Dai Foo, Min Dai Foo!’ He was calling my name.

Then to our amazement, the leader raised his arm and the marchers stopped. After a pause, he took out a little tin whistle, ridiculous in contrast to the ferocious looks of the men. He blew it, and the men turned and began to march again, this time across the plain and away from the town. We learned later that the man who had persuaded the bandit leader to spare our compound was one of my former patients – one of the opium sellers.