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FUNG PAII PROVINCE， NORTttERN CHINA.，"<br >Late September， 1948<br >The olive-green DC-3， props glinting silver， sliced<br >through pools of sunlight as it dropped from the mass<br >of dark clouds， then bounced down in the plowed<br >field. Dust erupted in whirlwinds behind its engines.<br >The plane skidded sideways， then settled into two<br >plowed furrows.<br > When the Red Cross insignia on the side was<br >dearly visible， a Chinese man and two women in<br >coolie bats broke from the cover of the elm trees near<br >the hill and dashed toward the plane.<br > The nan-ow， curved exit door on the DC-3 jiggled<br >and fell inward. A round-faced， horse-toothed young<br >man jumped out.<br > "Hope this is it，" he said. "It sure don t look like no<br >Valley of the DeadI"<br > A tall man with an aquiline， aristocratie face ap-<br >peared in the doorway. I-Ie was about fifty. <br ><br >
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