Excerpt from the 1923 diary of Theodor Wolff

As I walked through the doors, I was dazed by the sudden humid heat of the well-filled beer hall for a few seconds. “Mr. Wolff! Over here”, was the first thing I somewhat understood through the sound of laughing and tankards being banged on tables. In the thick smoke of cheap cigarettes, I could see some sort of shadow more solid than the others in the corner of the room, waving an arm at me. As I made my way over, the shadow melted into two people sitting on one side of a table under a small window, one chair

Up the River Valley

As the train was passing through the hills of Jiangxi, up the river valley, Ling could still not believe that he was finally going back. Staring out of the window, he thought of when he had last been here, just a few weeks after the Germans had come ashore. Now he was sitting in a German-made carriage, going over German-built railway tracks (well, paid for by German companies, but built by Chinese workers). He couldn’t complain: His sponsors had shied no expenses. He was travelling first class, the waiter had just cleared the remains of the excellent lunch from his