Encounter in Beijing
In my last post I mentioned being banned from China,
which happened shortly after June 4, 1989. I’d spent
the previous few weeks covering the ongoing protests in Beijing.
Some of the incidents and impressions from that time ended up
in ZOOM OUT.
Below is a chapter from the book based on a real incident.
CHAPTER 49
“Come on, let’s go look for soldiers.”
Steven breezed into the dining room of the Minzu and motioned to Amy, who was just lighting up a cigarette. She inhaled quickly.
“Pardon?”
“Come on. You can smoke in the car.”
Steven didn’t say it impatiently, but Amy knew she needed to move. She stubbed out the cigarette. Steven had already waved to the languid waitress for the bill.
Amy checked in her big fake Yves St. Lauren bag. Notebook, pens. Just half a pack of Salems.
“Where are we going?”
Steven was zipping off a signature on her bill. He spoke without looking up.
“I told you, we’re going hunting for soldiers.” He finished signing and looked up. “You ready?”
“Sure.”
They strode briskly out of the restaurant, through the lobby and out the big Stalinist doors. Their driver was waiting. Bobby was sitting in the front seat.
Ever since martial law had been declared, rumors of troop movements had swept the city. Steven had sources who fed him information from time to time; not high-level stuff, not always 100% accurate, but usually worthwhile.
“There are several regiments coming in today. Just reinforcements, I think. But I’ve heard that the Army wants to push them as close to Tiananmen as possible—see how much resistance they get from residents. That will be the key. If people come
out in the streets to stop convoys of soldiers, then Li Peng has a real problem on his hands.”
“I think that’s already happened,” Amy said, as the car turned onto the big, wide boulevard.
Steven nodded. “Yes, but only when troops were being moved from one area to another. People could see them packing up. This would be different. When all of a sudden trucks with troops in them come barrelling unsuspected down a street, will
citizens try to block them?”
Amy shrugged. So far, the democracy movement had been remarkably free of violence. The atmosphere was festive, not confrontational. Police had disappeared from the center of Beijing. Students now directed traffic—and did a pretty good job of it. Motorists seemed to show them more respect than they would a traffic cop. Overall, an atmosphere of courtesy and cooperation had settled over the capital. There was a spirit of unity, too, and a real energy.
They drove to the southwest part of the city, where most of the universities were. Things seemed pretty normal. Just people and automobiles and businesses, as if there wasn’t a revolution taking place five miles away.
“Let’s try the Capital Iron Works,” Steven suggested, and instructed the driver to turn
around.
“They’re going to put the soldiers in a safe place, away from the public. They don’t want them to be high-profile,” he observed.
“You think they’ll send troops into the square?” Amy asked.
Stephen didn’t respond for a moment. He looked out the window.
“I think the government leaders will do whatever they think is necessary to eliminate a threat to their power.”
They drove for more than an hour, checking out warehouse districts, remote neighborhoods and an abandoned air strip. Bobby dozed in the front seat. Eventually they gave up and headed back to the Minzu through a depressing residential area. Amy was lost in her own thoughts, daydreaming about Christmas back home, when she saw it.
“Army trucks!”
The driver had seen them too, a column of troop carriers two blocks over. He immediately made a hard right. Amy’s heart raced. Bobby fired up the camera. They were only a hundred yards away from the slow-moving convoy. As they approached, Amy saw people in the street, moving toward the trucks.
Steven spoke rapidly to the driver in Mandarin. He pulled over and everyone piled out of the car, moving cautiously at first, then running as they realized a crowd of people had converged on the trucks. The big green vehicles had come to a halt.
“Just be careful,” Steven warned. He was trying to sound calm, but he was breathing quickly. People were rushing past them. Amy saw a woman emerge from the front of one of the five-storey housing blocks, wiping her hands on her dress. She
turned and called up to a woman leaning out a window. The woman quickly ducked inside.
The trucks were being engulfed by a cross-section of working-class Beijing. The neighborhood they were in
consisted of grey apartment buildings, squat and ugly. Grandfathers, teenagers, housewives and guys who looked like they’d just gotten off the early shift were filling the street, creating a human barrier. The convoy consisted of about a
dozen trucks. Some of them had canopies over the back, but in other trucks PLA soldiers could easily be seen, staring mutely at the mass of people who had blocked their way. No weapons were visible. The soldiers didn’t seem angry, or
scared. They just sat there, watching average citizens shout up at them.
Bobby was already shooting, focusing on a plump woman who was waving her finger at the young men in green uniforms who peered over the railings of their vehicle. Bobby was right up in the angry woman’s face, but she didn’t pay
attention to him. She was busy haranguing the soldiers. Something she said brought a burst of laughter from the crowd. Even some of the soldiers smiled. Amy examined their faces. They didn’t look very frightening. Very similar to the protestors, except they were all wearing bulky pea soup-green costumes. They probably are the same age as the students, she thought. Early 20’s. I wonder if they agree with the students? I wonder if they even know what the demonstrators are asking for? Probably not.
The angry bulky woman continued her diatribe, to the amusement of the growing crowd of onlookers. There were hundreds of people in the street now. No way the trucks were getting through. Amy couldn’t see any leaders among the troops, only
soldiers. They just sat there. A couple of teenagers were handing bottles owater up into one truck. A soldier was admonishing his comrades not to accept the offering, but he was ignored.
How does this happen? Amy wondered. A spontaneous act of civil disobedience by complete strangers. These people can accomplish anything.
The trucks had been idling noisily. Suddenly, they began backing up all at once. A cheer erupted from the crowd. Slowly, the trucks moved back the way they’d come. Jubilant residents waved and shouted. Some of the soldiers waved back. In a few
minutes the trucks had retreated out of sight. The moment of spontaneous action was over. The residents disappeared back in their homes. It was dinner time.
petermaize 