The Chinese Labour Corps: The 140,000 Men Who Went to the Western Front and Left No House Behind
The Chinese Labour Corps: a branch of the diaspora the story skips
The overseas-Chinese story most readers carry is southern, mercantile and remittance-shaped: a letter with money folded in it, a tower house, a grave beside the ancestral hall. Between 1916 and 1920 a second, northern cohort went abroad for a war. Roughly 140,000 contract labourers — huagong (华工, huágōng) in the wartime paperwork, formed in France into the Chinese Labour Corps (中国劳工旅, Zhōngguó Láogōng Lǚ) — were sent to the Western Front by two Allied governments. Britain recruited from its leased territory of Weihaiwei (威海卫, Wēihǎiwèi) in Shandong; France contracted through a Tianjin front company, the Huimin Company (惠民公司, Huìmín Gōngsī).
They were not soldiers. They were shipped in secret across Canada in sealed trains and paid through a clause that sent part of every wage to a named relative in China.
This is the diaspora’s northern, non-qiaoxiang branch: Shandong and Hebei men recruited through a foreign leasehold by a foreign army, whose record survives in foreign registers and one cemetery in Picardy, and in almost no family archive. The Siyi emigrant of the same decade left a qiaopi (侨批, qiáopī) letter and a tower house; the labour-corps man left a name in a British register and a headstone in France, sometimes not even a name, only a number.
“Roughly 140,000” is a working figure, not a settled one: about 94,000 shipped by Britain, 37,000 to 40,000 by France, with Gu Xingqing’s 1937 memoir at about 175,000 and Xu Guoqi’s earlier book at about 200,000 counting other fronts.

The private coolie trade of 1847 to 1874, covered elsewhere on the site (Chinese coolies and the Caribbean), was an unregulated private traffic; this was a state-to-state contract, and the legal difference was real, though not always visible to the man digging.
Two recruitments, one cohort
The British route ran through Weihaiwei, leased in 1898 and held until 1930; the lease let Britain recruit without recruiting in China. Inside it the British ran a recruiting bureau (招工局, zhāogōngjú) and a depot at Heqing Nanshan, and sent the first draft of 1,088 men from the Gaoli pier on 18 January 1917. Recruitment below the depot was subcontracted to Heji and Company (和记洋行, Héjì Yángháng), whose labour brokers (劳工贩子, láogōng fànzi) advertised a ten-hour day and a return passage after three years in the villages.
The French route was a company, not a territory: because China was neutral, Liang Shiyi and a banking associate created the Huimin Company in Tianjin to put Chinese labour on French contracts. Its contract is dated 14 May 1916 (People’s Daily archive report); the British enabling agreement came on 30 December 1916, which is why the French corps reached France first. Between 37,000 and 40,000 men went this way. The first convoy’s date is not settled: a Marseille arrival on 24 August 1916 with 1,698 men, or a Tianjin embarkation in June 1916.
The two halves drew on different country: the Huimin Company kept offices at Tianjin, Pukou, Qingdao and Hong Kong and drew on the north China plains, while the British channel ran out of Shandong along the Jiaozhou–Jinan railway (胶济铁路, Jiāojì Tiělù) corridor.
Induction began with a number. Recruits were examined against twenty-one listed conditions and fitted with the zhuoshi tongpian (镯式铜片, zhuóshì tóngpiàn) — a copper plate stamped with a bilingual number and his name, curled into a ring and buckled onto the wrist, removed only when the contract ended and he was home.
The same depot and brokers had recruited for the Transvaal gold mines in 1904 (Chinese labour in South Africa). The departures disagree (Weihai municipal archives): one tally gives 44,079 men in 24 ships from January 1917 to January 1918; the colonial 1918 annual report gives 44,448.
The contract that was not the coolie trade
The 1847–1874 coolie trade ran on the shedanzhi (赊单制, shēdānzhì), the credit-ticket system, and its men were traded as zhuzai (猪仔, zhūzǎi), “piglets.” The labour-corps contract was a state-to-state instrument, and three features separate it: a fixed term (three years British, five French), a guaranteed return passage, and a wage-allotment clause paying a named relative in China.
The wartime word for these men was huagong, a bureaucratic invention meant to avoid the older vocabulary; they were still called kuli (苦力, kǔlì) in Allied records. The legal difference from a credit-ticket crossing was real; the lived difference was not always visible to the man in the camp.
A worker’s wage was split: part to the man, part to a designated relative, remitted monthly by postal money order to the office nearest the payee’s address — and no one but the named payee could draw it. The British ran a parallel version through their own mail, in envelopes addressed to the recruitment bureau in France by the man’s camp number and forwarded through Weihaiwei to the family.
No individual allotment file was located for this article — no named man, no named relative, no named paying agent; the mechanism is documented, the instance is not.
The wage was not one figure: French contracts set a minimum of five francs a day, British contracts a shilling scale worth roughly one franc. The most quotable fact about why men signed is a reconstruction: five francs a day was about a silver yuan a day against roughly two silver yuan a month for a farm labourer in rural Shandong.
The recorded allotment amounts refuse to reconcile: one contract version has twelve silver yuan a month to the worker and ten to his family, Gu Xingqing describes ten yuan to the family and one franc a day in France, and a French notice promises five francs a day plus ten silver dollars monthly.
The secret transit: sealed trains across Canada
The first Weihaiwei contingent of 18 January 1917 sailed by Hong Kong and Suez to Marseille; then the submarines rewrote the map. On 17 February 1917 the French transport Athos (亚多士号, Yàduōshì hào) was torpedoed in the Mediterranean, with losses given as more than 500 men, as 543, and in scholarship as 700 to 752 Chinese killed by submarines before reaching France — three different scopes. Those dead were French-recruited men shipped by a Hong Kong contractor, not the British corps; after the Athos the main route went the other way around the world.
Upwards of 84,000 men crossed the Pacific to William Head (威廉角, Wēiliánjiǎo) on Vancouver Island, waited out a fourteen-day quarantine in a fenced camp the sources call a kuli ying (苦力营, kǔlì yíng), and then took the Canadian Pacific Railway east to Halifax (哈利法克斯, Hālìfǎkèsī) for the Atlantic crossing and on through Plymouth to France. There was no single route: ships also ran from St John, Montreal or Quebec, and after the Halifax Explosion of 6 December 1917 a New York detour.
Canada was then the Empire’s most restrictive white-settler Dominion, running the head-tax regime in force since 1885 (Chinese in Canada before the [head tax](https://www.rootsofchina.com/chinese-in-canada-before-the-head-tax/)). It would not let these men land as free arrivals, partly to avoid the five-hundred-dollar head tax, and moved them in locked railcars with the windows shut and guards at the car ends. A press blackout covered the movement: police seized photographs at the transfer points, and the government intercepted mail addressed to anyone with a Chinese name. Some men went over the side.
The camp at William Head kept its own dead: twenty or twenty-one Chinese graves, the count depending on the source. Almost all the men came home the same way.

The work: digging the war behind the line
Men dug and repaired trenches, built and mended railway and road, put up bridges, camps and depots, and hauled stores. They worked the docks at Calais, Boulogne and Dunkirk, handled ammunition, made bullets in factories and arsenals, and riveted engines for the Tank Corps.
After 11 November 1918 they cleared battlefields: filled in miles of trench, lifted barbed wire, recovered the dead, and removed unexploded shells and mines. That last phase was the corps’ most dangerous, and it killed more of them than the fighting did.
They were contractually unarmed and non-combatant; the French contract barred them from military operations. In practice they lived within range of shellfire, air raids and industrial accident. A descendant in Henan put the paradox in a sentence: they did not fight in the first line, but in practice they were at the first line. The operational histories place the corps behind the front, in the Nord, Pas-de-Calais and the Somme.
Noyelles-sur-Mer (努瓦耶勒, Nǔwǎyēlè), on the Somme estuary near British Fifth Army headquarters, was the reception and distribution depot, the largest camp, and the site of No. 3 (Chinese) General Hospital. The corps stood at thirty-two camps on the Western Front in the book record, and the British Labour Force in France counted 54,000 Chinese by the end of 1917. The best-sourced 1918 casualty figure is at least fifty Chinese killed on the night of 18 May 1918, in a German air raid.
Discipline, pay, and the electing of squad leaders
The corps was administered under military law with neither a soldier’s pay nor a soldier’s status. Its sanctions were contractual rather than corporal: deductions from pay, confinement, and the threat of losing the return passage. Fifteen members of the corps were sentenced to death for murder during the war; Gu Xingqing records a worker numbered 24232, condemned at Wippenhoek and reprieved to five years’ penal servitude. Roughly twenty-five strikes and disturbances were recorded between November 1916 and July 1918 — a tally kept by a British operational history and independently by the Shandong provincial gazetteer, which is what makes the figure usable.
The best-documented incident is also the most hedged. At Les Fontinettes, on 16 December 1917 by the account that names the date and place, a mutiny grew out of British NCO bullying and one armed guard shot four Chinese dead and wounded nine; one Canadian soldier died. The date and place are probable, resting on a British official history; the casualties are confirmed by two independent accounts. The source gives no town, and none should be added; this is not the Boulogne unrest of September 1917.
Against that ledger sits the agency layer, usually left out. Squads of fifteen men elected their own squad leader (班长, bānzhǎng) by vote before platoons, companies and battalions were formed. At Noyelles a Chinese-language notice told any worker or foreman who was unfairly treated that he could appeal directly to the Director-General (督办, dūbàn), who sent Chinese-speaking officers to inspect in secret. The enrolment paper itself opened with the formula of the Bureau of Overseas Chinese Workers (侨工事务局, Qiáogōng Shìwùjú), sealed with the bureau’s seal and the worker’s own fingerprint.
The contract promised equal treatment with French workers; the camp record contains executions and shootings.
Learning to read in a war zone
Yan Yangchu (晏阳初, Yàn Yángchū), a Yale graduate who sailed for France in 1918 under the YMCA (基督教青年会, Jīdūjiào Qīngniánhuì), arrived as an education secretary and began by writing the men’s letters home, then built a literacy class, a primer of a thousand characters, and a newspaper, the Huagong Zhoubao (华工周报, Huágōng Zhōubào), printed in vernacular baihua (白话, báihuà) for beginners. Of the first class of forty men, thirty-five could write their own letters after four months — a government-page figure, attributed rather than worn smooth.
The corps also had a thin Chinese staff layer of roughly four hundred student interpreters, listed by name in Gu Xingqing. The chain runs from the Sino-French Education Association of 1916 into the work-study movement that sent more than two thousand students to France in 1919 and 1920 — a separate stream sharing the same early Paris quarters.
The figure most often quoted for the British side is three days a year — Spring Festival, Dragon Boat and Mid-Autumn (春节、端午、中秋, Chūnjié, Duānwǔ, Zhōngqiū). That is a press summary of British practice, not a located contract clause; the located text fixes a ten-hour day and a seven-day week, with rest left to the labour bureau. The French instrument was different: the same rest days as French workers, plus the Chinese national day, and by one account Spring Festival as well. The two contracts were not one leave policy.
What can be dated is a festival. On 11 February 1918, at the corps headquarters at Noyelles-sur-Mer, men performed stilt-walking (踩高跷, cǎigāoqiāo) and lion and dragon dance for Spring Festival. Decades later the mayor of Noyelles gave a visiting Shandong delegation photographs of the day and said the lion, dragon and stilts had been performed on the street outside his own office (Shandong overseas-Chinese office report).

The dead: a counting problem and a cemetery in Picardy
Deaths came from shellfire and air raids, but mostly from disease, from accidents on the docks and in the dumps, from the influenza pandemic of 1918–19, and, after the armistice, from unexploded ordnance. The profile leans to disease and industrial accident (BBC Chinese report on the deaths).
The counts do not reconcile. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission record, as summarised in the sources consulted, gives roughly two thousand Chinese graves across northern France and Belgium, names known for 1,874 men. Xu Guoqi estimates total mortality at three to four thousand, over two per cent. The Shandong provincial gazetteer runs higher and contradicts itself: three thousand or more dead on the voyage, two thousand killed digging trenches, three thousand killed by German aircraft near Calais — components that do not add up or match the grave record. Chinese official and press framings sometimes say twenty thousand dead or missing, a number Xu Guoqi rejects outright.
The Noyelles-sur-Mer Chinese cemetery (诺莱特华工墓园, Nuòláitè Huágōng Mùyuán) holds the largest concentration of Chinese graves in Europe: rows of white headstones in the pattern of Commonwealth war dead, laid out in 1921, after the last repatriation ship had sailed. Burials there are given as 842, 884, 843 and 841 in different sources — around eight hundred and forty to eight hundred and eighty graves, counts differ. Each stone records the man’s name, his home town in China, his date of death and his corps, in Chinese characters; some carry no name at all, only a serial number from the wrist.
The headstones face east, toward home — a detail corroborated twice, and the weight of this section. The annual Qingming (清明, Qīngmíng) observance began after the cemetery was rediscovered in the 1980s and became an institution from about 2002.
In the Siyi pattern the bones come home — the practice of luoye guigen (落叶归根, luòyè guīgēn), the fallen leaf returning to the root — and the dead are carried back to lie beside the ancestral hall. Here the graves went the other direction.

Repatriation and the men who stayed
British repatriation began in the autumn of 1919 and finished in April 1920; the French programme ran to 1922, with one Chinese account giving the window as November 1918 to 1921. About 110,000 men went home. The Bureau of Overseas Chinese Workers planned the return, and Shandong began its own resettlement work in 1920, after the provincial governor telegraphed Beijing on their settlement.
Two homecomings are on record and do not match: one has the men disheartened, each finding a small inn; another, from a 1921 returnee, describes school groups on the dock, flowers and three days of travel money.
What the returnees did afterwards is the strongest counterweight to a story of pure erasure: men who went back to Shandong and Zhili mostly bought land, those who returned to Shanghai and Guangdong re-entered factories or started workshops, and named veterans became people of consequence, among them a founder of the Jiusan Society.
A minority did not go home. The number is commonly given as two thousand to three thousand, while Gregory James gives five thousand to seven thousand. They settled around the Gare de Lyon (里昂火车站, Lǐ’áng Huǒchēzhàn) in Paris.
A Zhejiang trading diaspora already in Paris absorbed them: Qingtian (青田, Qīngtián) men who had come as labourers in 1917, including Chen Shaochu, decorated by France, used their pay to open small businesses or restaurants. The community’s own association, the General Association of Chinese Workers in France (旅法华工总会, Lǚ Fǎ Huágōng Zǒnghuì), was formed in Paris in late 1919, with more than thirty branches. Its founding date is given three different ways in the sources — 10 October, 15 October, January 1923 — so it travels with its source. This is described as among the earliest durable Chinese communities in continental Europe, not as the first.
Their paper ran the other way: the Wuyi county routes produced remittance letters kept at home (Wuyi, Fujian and Chaozhou diaspora routes); the labourers’ paper was filed in London and Weihaiwei and stayed there.
The refusal at Versailles
The corps was diplomacy before it was supply. In 1915 Liang Shiyi (梁士诒, Liáng Shìyí) and Ye Gongchuo devised a scheme with a name that says everything: yigong daibing (以工代兵, yǐ gōng dài bīng), “labour in place of soldiers.” China could not fund an army and could not, as a neutral, send one; labour was what it could pay for. The Allies had turned down Yuan Shikai’s offer of troops in August 1914, and the scheme was a wager — that Allied gratitude would buy the abrogation of the unequal treaties.
China severed relations with Germany on 14 March 1917 and declared war on 14 August 1917, sixteen months after the earliest labourers had already gone.
At Paris, Gu Weijun (顾维钧, Gù Wéijūn) stated China’s case on Shandong (山东问题, Shāndōng Wèntí) on 28 January 1919. At the end of April the Council of Four awarded Germany’s Shandong rights to Japan, breaching the principle of self-determination that Wilson had put at the centre of the settlement. China refused to sign the Treaty of Versailles on 28 June 1919 — the only victorious power at Paris that did not sign — and the May Fourth Movement (五四运动, Wǔsì Yùndòng) followed on 4 May as the domestic aftershock.
Gu’s famous line about Confucius and Jerusalem appears in Chinese accounts of the speech, but no verbatim record was located.
One account has more than thirty thousand Chinese workers, residents and students in France surrounding the lodgings of the Chinese delegates on 28 June to block the signing. That demonstration did not surface in any independent source located for this article, and the story of a letter and a pistol sent to the chief delegate remains unverified. The labour was delivered; the claim it was meant to purchase was refused.
What is not there: the village that has nothing to point at
For most of the men there is no photograph, no surviving letter, no village hall, no grave at home. Shandong’s memory work is openly reconstructive, because family-level records do not exist: the province’s overseas-Chinese bodies have had to find the men through their descendants, collecting oral history (口述历史, kǒushù lìshǐ) since about 2000 (State Council overseas-Chinese office on the Shandong memory project). The correct phrasing throughout is “not located,” not “did not exist.” No source located for this article mentions Chinese women in the corps, and no per-head recruiting fee paid to contractors or brokers was found.
In April 1925 the General Association of Chinese Workers in France memorialised the French government for a special cemetery for the Chinese war dead, a monument to the corps, compensation for the families of the dead, and funding for the education of Chinese children — petitioning on several occasions, the substantive date given as 2 April by one source, April 1925 by others. Some accounts say it was refused, others that it received no reply; either way, the community asked for the memorial and for a long time there was none. A version often repeated adds compensation for the war-disabled; that clause is not in the corroborating sources and is not used here.
The memorials came late: a granite half-figure in the Jardin Baudricourt in Paris, unveiled on 2 November 1998 and inscribed in Chinese and French. A 2.63-metre bronze by the sculptor Li Xiaochao was unveiled on the forecourt of the Gare de Lyon in September 2018. France, not Britain, built the enduring memorials.
What a descendant can consult is modest: the cemetery at Noyelles and its named graves, the British National Archives’ registers, the Academia Sinica files, and the Weihai municipal archives. What those holdings do not contain is the family’s own paper — the allotment record that named a relative and was filed abroad.
Stand at Noyelles-sur-Mer and the stone is real. Stand in a Shandong or Hebei village and there is often nothing to stand in front of — no hall, no diaolou (碉楼, diāolóu) tower beside the lane, no zupu (族谱, zúpǔ) lineage line, no grave. The diaspora is not one story told many times. It is several stories that do not fit together, and the distance between the remembered Siyi emigrant and the unremembered labourer is not a difference of worth. It is a difference of labour regime, of geography, and of who kept the paper.
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Continue Reading
- Chinese Labour in South Africa, 1904: The Gold Mine Recruitment — the same Weihaiwei depot and brokers, two decades earlier, sending men to the Transvaal.
- Chinese in Canada Before the Head Tax — the exclusion regime the labour corps was moved through in locked railcars.
- Cuban Chinese and the Coolie Ships of the Caribbean — the private, credit-ticket traffic the wartime contract was legally built to displace.
- Hakka Diaspora Beyond Guangdong — a reminder that overseas-Chinese history is several histories, only one of which left stone and paper at home.
- Singapore and the Nanyang Remittance Hub — the other great Chinese labour corridor of the same years, run on remittances rather than army contracts.
- New Zealand and the Chinese Poll Tax — another Dominion that took Chinese labour and legislated the men out afterwards.
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