In the early 1920s, Hu Shi
As a participant of that movement, I have felt a strong sense of duty to write down what I did, witnessed and thought, especially what happened on the night of June 3rd.
On that bloody night, some college students and Beijing residents fell down on the ground right beside me and never stood up again. The life of a wounded student I carried has probably become nothing but a wisp of smoke. Whenever I remember his ashen face and the trail of blood he left along the alley, a call will always echo at the bottom of my heart: One should not live by drifting along, nor should one fight only for one's own well-being.
With such a sense of duty I have forced myself to record the following past events, which are painful but should never be forgotten.
Although I was a graduate student then and had actively participated in organizing the strike in my university, I call myself an onlooker, because I was only on the periphery of the events of Tienanmen. This aloofness has earned me a rather objective perch to judge this movement.
I have never had the slightest doubt that the order to open fire was wrong, but I am also convinced that the movement was sometimes controlled by a handful of extremists, a factor that also contributed to the massacre.
The quiet in Tiananmen Square
(8:10pm-11:50pm)
Everyone should have noticed the tense atmosphere in the air on June 3rd. Several contingents of troops had moved into the city and a few soldiers had been captured. A small quantity of rifles and grenades, seemingly coming from nowhere, were shown off by the angry and excited people.
Looking back now, I realize that this could have been planned by the government to justify its decision to slaughter. Even more conspicuously, starting from around noon, the announcement: "Beijing residents, please stay at home in order to protect yourselves from any danger" was continuously played over both the radio and public loudspeakers.
I noticed the atmosphere, but I still decided to visit Tiananmen Square that evening. The tension did not make me timid; instead, it strengthened my desire to go. The situation had been stalemated for some time and I had not gone out for a couple of days. Like most people, I was anxiously anticipating some big change and wanted to witness it personally.
At approximately 7:30pm, I left the main building of my college. Outside, many people were discussing the situation enthusiastically. A beautiful new teacher greeted me and, learning where I was going, smiled and said: "Hope you come back alive!" I grinned and walked straight to my bicycle, paying no attention to the possible meaning of this prophetic good-bye and headed for the square.
Looking back, I admit that I was indeed very stupid, for my life almost ended at the age of 22. But, sadly, almost all the students and Beijing residents were equally stupid. We all believed that the soldiers' guns were loaded only with rubber bullets or tear gas. We never imagined that they could use real bullets against us -- against unarmed people.
Having said that, it is possible that some people knew the truth. I once read an article which claimed certain student leaders knew the guns were loaded, but that they insisted that, in order to incur more popular hatred of the government, that blood-shed had to be intentionally provoked. If so, it will take them more than just an apology to atone for their crimes.
So, with all my childish disdain for tear gas and rubber bullets, I pedaled hard, arriving at the square at 8:10pm. I went to the canopy of my college and chatted with a few students in order to catch up on the day's events. Someone passed me some free food and then I lay down on a mattress for a rest.
Despite the crowds, the square was very quiet and boring. Indeed, it was so quiet that I fell asleep. At approximately 11:00pm when I woke up from my dreams, Tiananmen Square was even quieter. Walking out of the canopy, I saw that about half of the crowd had gone. A cool breeze sobered me up, and the announcement that had been played countless times came again to my ears: "Beijing residents, please stay at home in order to protect yourselves from any danger!"
I became more certain that the troops were going to act that night and that it was very likely that Tiananmen Square would be surrounded before dawn. I began to contemplate what I should do. I leaned toward staying, not believing there would be much danger, but one thing held me back -- my bike, a precious possession for a student in those days. Where the bike was parked would make it very difficult to move it out once the square was surrounded. I decided to move it first and then walk back to the square.
At about 11:45pm, just as I set foot onto Changan Avenue
I was shocked and angry, and so was everybody on the square. I had no idea that an armored personnel carrier could move faster than an ordinary truck. This group of mean cowards! They not only dared to come to the square to spy on us, they even treated our lives as worthless!
I ran quickly into the middle of Changan Avenue and joined the angry crowds who were laying obstacles. We pulled out the traffic divider fences, set them into a huge "S," and moved their heavy metal bases into different locations. I was still unsatisfied, so I asked a couple of people to pull out the small banisters of the sidewalk flower beds and throw them into the street. We rolled out several metal trash bins, too.
Then I tried to catch my breath. Seeing that there were enough obstacles on the street for the sons of bitches, I wiped my face with a towel, got on my bike and headed for Xidan Department Store
At Xidan intersection
(12:15am-2:00am)
After I parked my bike near Xidan Department Store, moistened my towel at a water hose and walked to the intersection, I looked at my watch -- it was exactly 12:15am. The sound of gunshots coming from the west was already very clear. At the center of the intersection was a bus with about a dozen people standing on top. Around the intersection were tens of thousands of excited people. The crowds drew me to stay for a while.
Standing on one corner and seeing a few people throwing bikes into the streets, it suddenly occurred to me that tanks probably feared fire, so I shouted loudly to the few people close to the bus: "Burn it! Burn the bus!" Soon, people nearby joined my shouting. I saw a man take off his shirt, open the bus' gas tank, and use the shirt to throw gas into the bus. He finally threw the shirt itself in, lit a match and tossed it onto the shirt. With a pop, the bus was engulfed in flame.
For a long time after that day, when I recalled what I had done during those two months and especially that night, I used to ask myself: Am I a thug
Of course, the most "vicious" part was instigating others to burn that bus. Xidan intersection (
These precious minutes must have allowed more people to withdraw from Tiananmen Square, meaning that some lives were probably saved. When I thought this way, I always felt very proud indeed to be such a "thug."
I was still thinking how to better block tanks when the troops finally arrived in Xidan intersection at 12:30am. I totally ignored the firework-like sounds of the "tear gas" and "rubber bullets." What harm could they cause?
Just then some bare-chested students and Beijing residents shouted "Charge!" and ran toward the tanks. I, too, bent over, covered my face with my left palm and followed the crowds. A burst of gunfire came and, all of a sudden, I saw something -- a few guys fell down on the ground, and the wounds were not mere scratches, rather, there was blood gushing out! The troops were using real bullets! I suddenly understood, and so did everyone else.
Along with the crowd, I began to run north as fast as my legs could carry me. Indeed I ran so fast that I was soon at the very front of the crowd, and I kept running even after the crowd stopped. I finally stopped running when I heard nothing behind my back. I sat down and leaned against a wall, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But when I got up and snuck back toward the intersection, my eyes wide open, I saw people carrying the wounded running from the alleys at the eastern side of the intersection toward nearby Fengsheng Hospital (丰盛醫院). I suddenly got an idea: Go rescue the wounded! So I ran against the tide of people.
I was just inside a short alley when I spotted three men carrying a wounded student. I joined in, and the four of us carried the four limbs of the student. The student's face was very white and the wound near his heart kept bleeding. Seeing more and more blood coming out as we carried him this way, I began to fear that he might end up losing most of his blood before we ever reached the hospital.
Luckily, there was a flatbed tricycle just a few meters away and the owner was standing by it with a key in his hand. He hesitated as we pleaded for his help, until a middle-aged man from our group knelt down in front of him. The tricycle owner was a little embarrassed and immediately opened the lock, saying: "I did not say that I wouldn't lend it."
We lifted the wounded youth onto the flatbed tricycle and ran toward the hospital. Since there were enough hands, I decided to go back to help others. I had barely walked 40m when I saw a middle-aged man sitting on the back of a bike, his wounded left arm supported by someone else. I suggested to raise his arm over his heart, hoping to slow the flow of blood. The wounded man spoke with difficulty: "I'm fine. My wife is behind, and she is more seriously wounded."
I rushed ahead and found a middle-age woman, also seated on a back seat of a bike, but obviously unconscious. It was hard to see where her wound was, but the skirt she was wearing stuck closely to her body, and her whole person seemed to have just emerged from water.
Even now as I am writing these words, I still feel ashamed of my lack of knowledge of first-aid. To this day I believe that, had people known more first-aid, some who died that night could have been saved. Of course the people did what they could. The only reason for this infamous ignorance was the corrupt and incompetent communist government, which had long ignored the basic needs of the people.
At the corner of Nanchang Avenue
(2:20am-6:10am)
I spent about an hour helping rescue the wounded at Xidan, during which time the troops had already moved on. There were fewer and fewer people around. At about 2:00am, I got on my bike and headed back to Tiananmen Square, choosing to travel by way of the narrow side alleys.
I stopped my bike about 200m or 300m from the big arched gate where Nanchang Avenue
Our group of about 10 people tried to move closer to the soldiers, step by step, whenever we sensed a break in the atmosphere, but we were always prepared to withdraw. Once we came so close to the soldiers that I clearly saw their faces, and I suddenly felt very disappointed, because I did not find the ferocious features I had expected. They had dark complexions and their slim figures barely supported their baggy uniforms. Most of them were even shorter than me. They all looked malnourished. Sure enough, they were the sons of the poor and kind Chinese peasants, and some of their sisters or brothers or relatives were probably college students who were now standing on the square, in front of their barrels.
How could we demand they repay for all this? Who was the chief culprit behind all these people killing their loved ones? Obviously, it was the damned communist system headed by Li Peng
One military truck after another came and stopped on Changan Avenue in front of the north gate of the Great Hall of the People, unloading soldiers holding long white sticks. The sporadic sounds of gunfire never stopped. At 3:57am, the soldiers began to gather quickly and, a couple of minutes later, a concentrated burst of fire came, followed by the solemn and stirring singing of "The Internationale"
Everyone knew that the troops had begun to clear the square, and realized that the people there were perhaps finished. Many people began to sob.
At 6:10am, it was already light and the crowds began to scatter. I joined three people going into a house for water. I sat down in a chair, finding it difficult to hold myself together. I felt dizzy and nauseated. After resting for about 10 minutes, I stood up, climbed on my bike and headed back to my college.
At Baitasi intersection
(7:10am)
What a coincidence! Approaching an intersection, I ran into some of the students coming out of Tiananmen Square. They were so marvelous, still holding the flags and slogans in their hands. But the tired looks on their faces were also very pitiful.
The three students walking in front were holding a long machine-gun cartridge clip in their hands. A male student following them was holding a small, shiny object in his right hand. Coming closer to take a good look, I saw that it was a piece of glass with a blood stain on it. "This is the blood of a seven-year-old girl on the square and I will keep it forever," he told me in a hoarse voice. There were no tears left in his eyes.
I suddenly realized that, if I ran into the students from my college, there could be some embarrassment -- no matter what excuse I gave, I had left the square before the soldiers came. So I resumed my trip.
At about 50m from the Baitasi intersection
There were few people in the intersection. Two middle-aged women walked over, glared at the soldier, then both spat on him and calmly left. I was stunned. Those two women were supposed to be loving mothers who would have jitters when seeing a chicken being killed -- but there was not the slightest degree of terror or sympathy on their faces at the sight of this ghastly-looking man. What I saw in their eyes was nothing but contempt, hatred and even some pride.
Ever since, the scene of the two middle-aged women calmly spitting on the dying soldier has constantly been replayed in my mind. Every time, the tremendous power of hatred makes me shiver. It can change a person into a cold-blooded being, a creature with only an empty human shell. Yet, it was the communist system that had sewn the seeds of hatred.
Later I learned from CCTV
At 7:50am, I arrived at my college. During those 12 hours, I had experienced more significant and dangerous things than I had in the rest of my life combined. Thanks to the good wishes of that beautiful teacher from the foreign affairs department, I came back alive.
Zhu Youda(
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