When the cadets graduating from the U.S. military academy at West Point step up to receive their diplomas, each one wears a ceremonial officer's sword. Flashing silver in the sun, elegantly curved, and delicately engraved, the swords have a noble, aristocratic air, especially when grasped firmly in the hand of a handsome young officer!

Who would guess that the splendid swords of West Point come all the way from a little woodcarving company in the Taiwan countryside?

Trudging under a blazing summer sun in the southern Taiwan village of Tounan, we finally found the address we had been looking for. It was a residential building with no sign in front, but—no mistake—this was the Yang Ming Woodcarving Co. The scene inside was typical of a family workshop: a wooden ship displayed in a cabinet in the living room, carved wooden masks hanging from the walls, various kinds of wooden athletic equipment stacked in the corners . . . only not a trace of a sword in sight.

When we explained the reason for our visit, Ch'en Ming-ts'un, the owner, commented, "They're ceremonial swords, you see, not real weapons," and pulled one out to show us.

"They make swords for the honor guard at the Chinese Military Academy, too," said an elderly neighbor who had dropped in for a chat, putting in a good word for his friend.

In fact, the swords for the Chinese Military Academy, look even more impressive than the West Point ones—they have gold-plated black scabbards and their hilts are even more exquisitely patterned.

That's really something, isn't it, doing business all the way to West Point!

"Not at all," replied Ch'en, Who is in his fifties, shaking his head with some embarrassment. "Just luck."

Ch'en Ming-ts'un, born and raised in Tounan, taught himself woodcarving as a youngster in the evenings after helping out with the family chores. When he was 28, he opened a woodcarving shop, which at one time, at its peak, employed fifty workers.

Their carvings of twenty or so years ago were generally masks and animal figures, most of which were sold to Japan. Because he had always been interested in martial arts, he later began to carve wooden t'ai-chi swords, nunchakus, and other martial arts accessories. But wooden ghost masks, which are popular with the Japanese, remained his mainstay.

His woodcarving expertise did enable him to receive an unexpected special order from overseas, though.

Five years ago, a Jewish-American businessman heard about Ch'en and came to Tounan with an order for 5,000 West Point officer's swords, an order that was originally intended for Spain, he was told.

But it was two years later before the swords were really up to snuff. "The buyer was really demanding," said Ch'en's 27-year-old son, Ch'en Tsai-fa, explaining that just finding a steel factory to open a mold and produce a satisfactory sample took a considerable amount of time and energy. The West Point sword is long and curved, and beating the high-carbon steel into just the right angle is a science in itself, he said. And adding the embellishments along the blade is a real "precision industry"—they must be done by hand.

"Right now, machines can only substitute for one-third of the labor," Ch'en Tsai-fa said.

Getting the sword to fit the sheath is another science. Because the work is done by hand, standards are not automatically uniform. If the measurements are a bit off, the sword won't go in. Besides this, the swords come in six sizes, to fit soldiers of different heights.

With so much intricate labor, the price must not be cheap, right?

Generally speaking, a West Point officer's sword sells for no less than NT$4,000 (around US$130), and a Chinese Military Academy sword for around NT$6,000. Unfortunately, these ceremonial swords can only be purchased by direct order, and are unavailable on the retail market.

Ordinarily, work on the swords is slow and steady, but as graduation season approaches, things get hectic. "They work like prisoners in the work house," Mrs. Ch'en said, half in anger, half in resignation. She keeps berating her son for being too busy to find the time to look for a girlfriend.

Hearing her describe her son and spouse as being "as clever as wood," a neighbor sticks up for them: If they weren't talented, their business would never have reached all the way to West Point Academy and "done us all proud!"

When asked about the future, the Ch'ens displayed little ambition to expand. "The most important thing is to keep on improving quality," Ch'en Ming-ts'un said, stressing that the challenge is to make products superior to those mass-produced on a machine. He has discovered that stainless steel is even better for making swords than high-carbon steel, and plans to suggest using it to his clients.

It looks as though Tounan village really does "harbor hidden masters."

[Picture Caption]

(Left) West Point's officer's swords come all the way from Tounan. (photo courtesy of Defense Asia-Pacific)

(Right) On the right is a West Point officer's sword, on the left an ROC Military Academy sword.

Ch'en Ming-ts'un is a woodcarver who became renowned as a swordmaker.

Carved wooden ghost masks are a specialty of the Ch'ens. Most are exported to Japan.

A woman worker engaged in making racks for t'ai-chi swords.

A display of the latest pedagogical tools at the session on "overseas Chinese education" attracted the interest of both parents and children.

The participants hoped to keep up contacts after the convention ended.

（Left） West Point's officer's swords come all the way from Tounan. （photo courtesy of Defense Asia-Pacific）