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盛雪文集
·专访达赖喇嘛——1999
·西方首脑会见达赖喇嘛高峰期----加拿大总理哈珀又迈一大步
·达赖访加 华人争议
·红色的海洋 黑色的悲哀
·RED SEA, BLACK GRIEF
·藏人地震捐款为何被拒----且看中国驻多伦多总领事馆如何讲政治
·西藏真相
·寻找共同点——日内瓦汉藏会议:背景及缘起
·慈悲与尊重是汉藏关系的前途——温哥华汉藏论坛评述
·用了解、理解来化解误解——北美华文媒体访问达兰萨拉
·搭起漢藏民族相互瞭解的橋樑——谈多伦多汉藏论坛
·一路走来的脚印
·百位华人学者及民主人士与达赖喇嘛尊者对谈
·關注西藏命運,華人自我救贖
·透过藏人自焚的火焰(图)
·3. 10 請華人發出正義的呼聲
·暴政有期 大爱无疆
·暴政有期 大愛無疆
·西藏之痛 中國之恥 文明之殤
·在加拿大藏人于国会山举行的集会上演讲
·要求加拿大国会就西藏紧急局势举行听证会(请签名参与)
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中共国家恐怖主义
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·中共与国家恐怖主义(一)
·中共与国家恐怖主义(二)
·中共与国家恐怖主义(三)
·中共与国家恐怖主义(四)
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朱小华案独家报道
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·THE ZHU XIAOHUA CASE: A WINDOW INTO CHINESE HARDBALL POLITICS
·朱小华案系列报道(一)朱小华案开审,权力斗争升温
·朱小华案系列报道(二)朱小华庭上抗辩,推翻所有指控
·朱小华案系列报道(三)卷入权力斗争 朱小华家破人亡
·朱小华案系列报道(四)朱小华要求中央允境外记者采访
·朱小华案系列报道(五)朱镕基出访 朱小华遭殃
·朱小华案系列报道(六)朱案厮杀 港商垫底
·朱小华案系列报道(七)朱小华案将宣判,刑期十五年
·朱小华案系列报道(八)朱小华咆哮法庭
·江、朱各人手上一张牌――透视朱小华案、远华案
·原交通部副部长郑光迪案判决内幕
·朱熔基羽翼被翦──浅析朱小华案件
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政评和时评
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·知识界依附人格及选择困境
·江泽民访加与丢中国人的脸
·大厦将倾 硕鼠搬家-----谈中国贪官外逃
·共产劫富后的两个中国----透视中国的贫富悬殊
·致曹常青兼談民運
·新年感言
·我们是来自同一个国家么?
·张林被拘,亟需声援
·生命不能承受之重
·何处是乐园——福建偷渡者在加拿大
·世纪之交的中共对台湾政策及台湾的选择
·贾庆林与赖昌星案
·天人永隔之际--王炳章父亲病危唯一心愿见儿子一面
·一步之遥——平安或苦难
·王炳章父故世心愿未了天人永隔
·胡锦涛访加纪实
·万事似具备 遣返又成空--分析赖昌星遣返案的一波三折
·回应历史呼声终结共产暴政
·华妇溺杀患病女儿引争议
·熱比婭:維族的母親
·加拿大前後任總理為中國人權爭功勞
·正视中共在海外的间谍活动
·加拿大人对中国产品不放心
·加总理忙峰会:从北美到亚太
·为什么加中旅游协议总签不成
·奥运精神何在?──八十八岁母亲遥盼王炳章
·加拿大高官易丢“乌纱帽”
·为专制帮闲无异于助纣为虐
·北京奥运: 在普世价值透视下
·中文媒体忽悠华人
·香港已没有公民自由----记北京奥运香港行
·是食品还是毒品?----毒食品事件在加拿大继续发酵
·忽悠不了的沉默大多数
·罪证确凿也要当庭释放----中国留学生在加拿大造假案
·为失去话语权的人们发出声音
·2009年中国与世界的关系
·麻雀大战乌鸦
·盛雪谈加总理哈珀访问中国
·做人,还是做恐惧的华人?
·Being A Man or A Chinese in Fear?
·中国政府在赖昌星案上无法自圆其说
·《南都周刊》赖昌星逃亡这些年
·健康、正常、乐观、有尊严地活着
·盛雪披露远、朱两大案政治斗争黑幕 (图)
·盛雪评加法院下令扣押中国领事资产(图)
·盛雪谈平反法轮功
·张伟国 盛雪:陈希同朱小华保外就医与中南海权争
·盛雪:正在起死回生的中国
·盛雪演讲赖昌星远华案及反腐败
·盛雪披露远、朱两大案政治斗争黑幕 (图)
·賴昌星─中國特色的碩果
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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
   
   
   

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