Crime & Punishment

From the two Chinas, Nationalist and Communist, came stories of corruption.

Men of Intrigue. Nationalist China reached to Washington to make its charge. The accused: Lieut. General Mao Pang-chu, 47, a fellow villager (Fenghua in Chekiang province) of Chiang Kaishek, stationed in the U.S. since 1943 as chief of his government's aviation procurement. The accusation: in the past five years, Mao 1) failed to account for almost $20 million in aviation procurement funds placed at his disposal, 2) protected disloyal staffmen and 3) spread rumors undermining the prestige of Nationalist China.

Behind the charges lay a complex story of bureaucratic intrigue and counter-intrigue--the kind of factional squabbling that has been one of the Nationalists' gravest weaknesses. A Whampoa cadet sent by Chiang Kai-shek to study aviation in Moscow in 1927 (before the Nationalists and Communists split), Mao set up his country's first military air academy at Hangchow in 1932, helped Chennault build up the Flying Tigers during the Japanese war, served in the postwar period as chief representative of the Chinese air force abroad. But Mao's pet ambition was thwarted when Chiang made the army's General Chou Chih-jou instead of Mao commander in chief of the air force.

Mao and Chou became bitter personal enemies. For Chiang's ears, they told tales of misconduct against each other. The Generalissimo listened patiently, did nothing until Mao's complaints found their way into a Drew Pearson column. Then, angry because private Chinese linen was being washed before the American public, Chiang issued the order for Mao's recall on charges of official misconduct.

Mao insisted that he could account for all funds in his hands. He and his chief aide, Colonel Hsiang Wei-hsuan, accused of "corruption and disloyalty," put their case in hands of Washington attorneys. They hoped to claim political asylum from the U.S.

In Formosa, U.S. newsmen asked a Nationalist spokesman why six years had elapsed before steps were taken to punish the alleged corruption. The embarrassed reply: "I suppose we have to blame it on our own inefficiency."

Man on a Spree. The masters of Red China, whose sins are the vaster ones of aggression, wholesale blood purges and stifling of thought, take pride in the fact, attested by many observers, that under them the ancient oriental custom of "squeeze" is largely abolished and corruption has disappeared. Last week, however, Peking's People's Daily reported the short, gay life of one Chen Chu-hung.

A secretary in the department of industry of the South-Central Military Administrative Area, with headquarters in Hankow, Chen was sent last winter to Tientsin with his boss on a mission to purchase military supplies. When the boss sneaked off for a trip to his home town, Chen carried on with the mission's official seal and $87,000 funds. He moved into an expensive hotel, bought steel materials from merchants who made fine profits, and equally fine kickbacks to Chen. He lived big at expensive restaurants, escorted beautifully dressed' girls to the fanciest spots, spent $4,000 on a car.

His big mistake was a weekend with a dancing girl in Peking. To rest from a hangover, he rented a hotel room and registered as a hardware merchant from Shanghai. In Peking the security police double-check all visitors. In no time at all, Chen was arrested for false registry. One thing led to another, including the discovery that Chen had run through all but $25,000 of his mission's $87,000. Sentence: death.

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