ow long would you hold a grudge? Is the price of vengeance worth its payoff? If you are wronged, what would it take for you to move on with your life?

Timothy McVeigh's execution this Monday brought back to memory a conversation with an old family friend we hosted a few months back. Our guest was one of the lucky ones that ultimately escaped the Cultural Revolution - but had many relatives who weren't as fortunate and suffered its horrors.

Among them: "Counterrevolutionaries" were dragged out into public stockyards where they are given deliberately grotesque "haircuts," locked into braces with a large painted placard announcing their "crimes" and set up for abuse. Students were told to spit and urinate on their teachers' heads, and farmers would strip landowners to inflict unmentionable sexual abuse. The objective psychological torture - designed to completely humiliate someone before they are sent off to prison or execution.

Our friend was in one of those villages with his younger brother (then 13 years old) when the People's Liberation Army swept through town. The god of good fortune did not smile upon the younger brother, and the boy was among those who were set for this treatment. After hours of abuse, the solider that removed the scaffold decided the 13-year-old hadn't had quite enough, and proceeded to beat him with the butt of his rifle to a bloody pulp. The two brothers ultimately slipped out with some resourceful older escapees to Taiwan and then finally immigrated to the U.S.

There are secrets we bury deep in the dark places of our hearts that may lay undisturbed for a lifetime save extraordinary circumstance. And from the time he escaped to Taiwan to his years in the U.S., he never spoke a word of his experiences to anyone. After all, there's no sense in needlessly disturbing old ghosts and chance facing the torrent of horrors best left buried in the charred remains of his childhood village. But though we may never speak of these things, we never forget either.

Which brought us to some time in November 2000, when he was attending the wedding of a friend's cousin. As the crowds mingled and chatted in the reception hall he did a double-take at one of the guests. Could it be? He was about the right age, and had the same features. Too, burned into his memory was the soldier's name from the badge he read off the uniform. What are the chances? He had to find out.

"Hey hey!" (said in Chinese) he approached the seventy-odd year old man with a friendly smile. "Are you a friend of the groom or the bride?"

"Bride side. She's the niece of my stepbrother. You?"

"Friend's cousin is the groom."

"Ahhh. Nice! Good to see so many people here!"

"Hey listen - are you from the mainland?"

"Yeah, came here about fifteen years ago."

"And you lived just south of Beijing in 1963, yes?"

"Sure … how did you … ?"

"And you served in the People's Liberation Army during that time, correct?"

The man's face went pale.

"… I … I … "

"Your name is Wong Hwa-Ting, and held the rank of Corporal in Spring of 1963, isn't that right?"

"Yes - Oh God. You're … you're …"

"Recognize me now?"

( click here to continue ... )