盛雪文集
[主页]->[独立中文笔会]->[盛雪文集]->[At Bloody Dawn]
盛雪文集
**************
百年不风流 千古人传颂
·
**************
·超越时空的对话
·迟了半个世纪的臧家祭奠
·百年滄桑夢頻碎 風雲人物青史垂(图)
·朱学渊:东北大学的人物踪迹——也纪念臧启芳先生
·追尋英魂 還原歷史(多图)
·歷史長河 百年一瞬——《百年不风流》编后
·千古啟芳 傲立蒼茫——《千古人传颂》前言
·追怀昔日的“大学精神”
·直书信史在民间 (上)
·代理天津市长——臧启芳雄才难展的从政之路
·張學良內定的天津市長到底是此臧還是彼臧
***************
加拿大“十元人道救助”计划
***************
·愿帮助你的 也都平安
·呼唤人性的温暖 ——记“10元人道救援行动”
·"不要讓好人孤單"
·“十元人道捐助”计划年会
·十元人道捐助计划 资助维权大陆人
·多倫多10元救助 7年來籌逾4.5萬 捐贈中國逾20名繫獄維權人士
·10元人道捐助 7年籌款4.5萬元
·十元计划及海外救助中国良心犯行动
·中共人权迫害加剧 民运人道救援先行
****************
自由亚洲电台报道选编
****************
·刘淇昆评炉霍事件
·加中国人权联盟呼吁哈柏关注中国人权
·加朝鲜人权协会呼吁救助将被中共遣返难民(图,视频)
·藏人新年绝食抗议 民阵呼吁华人声援
·韩广生谈王立军其人及对中共政局的影响(图)
·李竹阳:理解父亲秦永敏的政治理念
·悼六四 李必丰儿子到多伦多朗誦父亲詩歌
杂项
*****************
·Ben Arnold《真正的名扬四海:硬盘!》
杂议万象 历史留痕
******************
·為一個獄中政治犯舉行作品朗誦會引發的爭論和攻擊
·关于中国——和某留学生的电邮通信
·黄河清:盛雪成了一具牺牲!
·岁月留痕——一封旧信
English articles
·
·The Struggle of Three Books
·Edmonton is home
·Tiananmen, 25 Years Later: What I Saw
·Ottawa’s Victims of Communism Memorial Site Is Fitting, Says Chinese
·SHENG Xue: Subcommittee on International Human Rights Committee
·Tiananmen, 25 Years Later: What I Saw
·Steamed up about censorship
·加拿大國會山的國際人權日
·You -I-Sense-Black
·Your Red Lips, a Wordless Hole
·Even the Moon Would Weep
·Chinese-Canadians Fear China’s Rising Clout Is Muzzling Them
·At Bloody Dawn
·Chinese Writers: Organ Harvesting Atrocities Will Stop Only with the E
·The Sea and Its Shore
·VISION TINES: Interview With Chinese Dissident and Her Account of the
·The TAXI Stand Jam
纪念妈妈
·
·李桂琴的生命慶典
·A celebration of LI Guiqin’s life
·坚韧与善良,平凡而伟大!
·铁肩冷眼抗强权 侠骨慈心佑民运
挚友来鸿 诗稿汇编
·
·读盛雪信感赋奉寄致敬
当代中国史稿
·
·《當代中國史稿》訂購單(图)
·《當代中國史稿》訂購單
·《當代中國史稿》訂購單 (图)
[列出本栏目所有内容]
欢迎在此做广告
At Bloody Dawn


    Remembering Tiananmen
   
   
    By Sheng Xue May 1990

   
   
At Bloody Dawn

   
   
   
   June 3rd 1989: After being stuck in a crowd on Chang’an Avenue for hours, we learned that the army had used tear gas to disperse a crowd in Liu Bu Kou – close by, near the center of the city. Even in the heat and humidity, I felt a chill down my spine. We heard that many had been injured.
   
   When the army marched on the town, I couldn’t help noticing the irony. The Chinese Communist Party had founded the People's Republic here, 40 years earlier, but instead of goosestepping in uniform, they'd entered Beijing quietly, disguised as peasants, weapons hidden in their bags. Now they were pulling ordinary citizens from the streets as they moved behind enemy lines – just as they had done before.
   
   TV and radio announcements kept warning us: "Stay off the streets while the soldiers enforce Martial law in Tiananmen Square. The People’s Liberation Army will use all necessary means to overcome obstacles." The army did not look like they were here just to “clear up” Tiananmen Square. They were bloodthirsty, spreading fear to every corner of the square. I was distraught, unsure about what to do next.
   
   A friend appeared, her pale face streaked with tears. "They did it. They are doing it," she cried. I ran to the window and saw the troops rolling in to Tiananmen Square and without a second thought went out into the streets.
   
   A crowd separated four soldiers from the ranks. Inexplicably, the troops ignored the lost soldiers – as if they were meant to be left behind. The crowd circled the soldiers and knocked them down. I rushed forward shouting: “Stop! They are the same as you and I. Stop! Tell them the truth.” I could hardly hear my own voice. A youth picked up a spiked club that one of them had dropped. I looked back to see the four soldiers being beaten and bleeding. Another tragedy of Chinese killing each other. It took all my strength to run to Tiananmen Square.
   
   The streets were silent. A month before they'd crackled with noise but now they were cold, deeply sad places. They had witnessed too much wrath, misery and despair.
   
   Passing the entrance to the Municipal Bureau of Public Security, I came across a heavily armed riot police blockade. They pushed through the crowd, swinging their clubs, but whenever they broke up the crowd, we regrouped. The violence escalated. We dug up bricks from the pavement and cracked them into small chunks to throw at the so-called “guards of social interest and people’s benefits,” and “defenders of human justice and reputation.” The crowd shouted: “Rascal government, bandit troops, and police accomplices. Students are innocent.” my voices were broken, my hands wounded, my hearts were filled with sorrow.
   
   Aren’t Chinese a cursed nation – killing fellow countrymen? Or has God chosen us to take on the burden of human suffering?
   The police moved in waves, charging at the crowd and beating them down savagely with clubs before retreating into the building. Injured protestors streamed out of Tiananmen Square. I watched tears stream down the dark, wrinkled face of one man. “Son of a bitch! Chinese communists devoid of gratitude,” he spat. He pushed a cart, with a young body on top of it, soaked in blood. The crowd filled bottles with gasoline, to make Molotov cocktails. Chunks of stone flew from both sides of the pavement as the Molotov cocktails etched fiery curves in the night. In the distance, you could hear sarcastic chants clearly: “The enemy advances, we retreat. The enemy pauses, we make trouble. The enemy tires, we attack.” Mao had used these lines to rouse his “proletarian revolutionaries” to guerrilla warfare. Now the melody was strong and the meaning was even greater. The “offenders” and the “defenders” could not beat each other. I was forced to surrender whatever remaining delusions I harboured about government emancipation. It hurt to let them go.
   
   I still wonder if what we did was brave. I honestly can't say. Our people are combative, always jostling each other. We have fought amongst ourselves forthousands of years – no more so than during the last half century. During a ten-year period of the Cultural Revolution, hundreds and thousands of people were killed, sacrificing themselves for a common cause. In the April 5th Movement of 1976, it took all night to wash the blood stains from Tiananmen Square. When will these sacrifices serve as a memorial for the country's current tragedy?
   
   The sound of gunfire shocked people at 3:30 in the morning. It was directed towards Tiananmen Square. People were confused and asked why firecrackers were being set off so late at night. Someone ran over yelling "Gunfire, gunfire." In fact, the army had been moving in from the west, shooting at protesters since midnight. The death toll kept rising as they marched along the streets.
   
   Later I learned that two tragedies from someone(my husband): When the troops reached the intersection of Xidan Road, a man in 30s pushed through the crowd, stood in the middle of the street and confronted the parade of military vehicles and soldiers on board. “You'll have to roll over my body before you can harm the students in Tiananmen Square” he shouted. Quietly, a soldier raised his machine gun and drilled the young man's body with bullets. He fell.
   
   And, a 14-year-old girl flee in the street. She was scared and frightened, standing in a shadow in front of a store. She didn’t even realize the People’s Liberation's Army – once so sacred in her eyes – had shot her. A bullet had sliced her skullopen. Her eyes had been stretched wide open and had never closed.
   
   On June 6, I went to the spot where she'd died to find only a bloodstain remaining. Threads of black hair mingled with brain tissue in the broken glass caused by stray bullets; the hair stirred in the smoky breeze. My companion picked up a small piece of skull bone. Less than two metres away, a man in his 40s had been shot to death. Bystanders told me that at this intersection alone 200-300 people had died.
   
   Shortly after 5 in the morning, I turned to walk toward Tiananmen Square. I thought of all the students who would be sick, weak, hungry and exhausted as I approached there. I will never forget the walk.
   
   I met a group of China Red Cross staff. Their white garments were stained with blood. They carried several unconscious bodies. Tears ran down their cheeks. One man held a square tile uprooted from Tiananmen Square. It was coated withblood. He stared into space blankly. I couldn't suppress my own tears. These white angels had never been to a battlefield; they had been attacked because of a peaceful petition. How could they have deserved this?
   
   Tiananmen Square had turned into a battlefield. I stood among the wreckage where the war had ended minutes before. Tanks lined the streets, with their barrels raised high, as the crowds watched. Soldiers pointed guns at pedestrians and put their finger around the trigger. For a moment, the volcano fell silent. Then tanks charged the crowd. Screaming, people began to fall over each other. The tanks closed in, then drove backward. Before they could steady themselves to stand up, soldiers fired upon the crowd. Two young people were caught in the leg and fell. I rushed to them and spotted fist-sized wounds in their legs. They were rushed to the hospital.
   
   Later, a friend told me that, at almost the same time, a train of tanks at Liu Bu Kou had released a tear gas bomb and rolled over the bodies of 11 students. When my friend got there, he saw people picking up the broken bodies and piling them into carts.
   
   My mind was stimulated to the point of numbness, I paused at the edge of this historic cliff, gazing at the bloodshed along the horizon. Alarms sounded in the heavens and on the ground. This was a bloody awakening dawn appeared to a dark morning.
   
   Translated by J. Fon in May 2014
   
   
   

[下一页]
blog comments powered by Disqus

©Boxun News Network All Rights Reserved.
所有栏目和文章由作者或专栏管理员整理制作,均不代表博讯立场