They were the worst of the bad: ruthless Chinese who went over to the side of Japan during the Sino-Japanese War that devastated China from 1937 to 1945. With their pistols, black suits, black hats and dark glasses, these turncoats were known as the "Chinese Gestapo," infamous for their brutality.
Late in the war, they arrested William Gun Chong. They beat him. He didn't talk. They beat him again. Finally, in his thick village dialect, the terrified prisoner told his Chinese interrogators he could not understand them, was hungry and needed to look for work. They let him go.
If only they had known: William Gun Chong, who had spent nearly all his life in the heart of Vancouver's Chinatown, was a British spy.
For 3½ frightening years during the Second World War, Mr. Chong, Agent 50, operated behind Japanese lines, rescuing downed Allied fliers, ferreting out vital intelligence and helping to organize a pipeline of life-saving medicine to prisoners of war in Hong Kong.
He never knew, each day he woke up, whether he would live to see another sunset. For his service, Mr. Chong, now 94, received the Order of the British Empire medal in 1947.
Yet today, the remarkable exploits of this B.C. resident remain unknown to most Canadians, as do the courage and determination of hundreds of other ethnic Chinese, born and raised in Canada, who served in the Second World War.
Nearly 150 Chinese Canadians volunteered for dangerous missions in the jungles of Japanese-held territory as part of Britain's legendary Special Operations Executive, which specialized in clandestine warfare.
And they signed on in a country that denied them the vote, refused to grant them citizenship, barred them from law, medicine and pharmacy, and often segregated them in public places.
It was a shameful time in Canada's history, particularly on the West Coast, where the vast majority of ethnic Chinese lived. Racism was rampant. Whenever they ventured out of Chinatown, they felt uneasy.
Years later, Second World War veteran Daniel Lee, 84, recalled, "I was considered an alien back then. When people looked at me, I could sense they didn't like something. You'd have a bitter feeling inside." When they first tried to join the Canadian Armed Forces, most were turned down because they were Chinese. B.C. Premier Duff Pattullo wrote to Prime Minister Mackenzie King, strongly urging that Canada maintain its semi-official ban on Chinese recruits to avoid giving them a good argument for the right to vote. Canadian losses in France and conscription gradually opened the doors to ethnic Chinese, but their acceptance was lukewarm at best.
Then Major Francis Woodley Kendall of the British army arrived in Ottawa.
Canada may have resisted recruits like Mr. Lee because they were Chinese, but that's precisely why Major Kendall wanted them -- to serve as secret agents in Japanese-held Asia, blending in with the local populations. Suddenly, skin colour was an asset, and Major Kendall found what he was looking for in Canada.
Young Chinese were willing recruits; this was a chance to prove themselves and secure the same rights as Canadians. But the issue divided places like Vancouver's Chinatown and split families. Many wondered, why put your life on the line for a country that turns its back on you?
Doug Jung, who went on to become the first Chinese-Canadian MP, quickly volunteered, along with 12 others, for a perilous mission to organize resistance in occupied China, aptly entitled "Operation Oblivion."
They went through months of rigorous training along a secluded shore of B.C.'s Lake Okanagan before shipping out to Australia for further trials. Complete with issued cyanide pills, they were on the verge of slipping into China when a U.S. commander vetoed the operation. Four members of the group who subsequently parachuted into Borneo were awarded the British Military Medal for bravery.
