The Foreign Service Journal, June 2009

20 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U N E 2 0 0 9 next. No police were visible. The students seemed to be running the city, directing traffic and maintain- ing order. But after foreign media broadcasts were cut off, it was diffi- cult for us to find out what was hap- pening. The government began broad- casting over loudspeakers in the square and on street corners, pro- claiming “The PLA loves the people and the people love the PLA.” The airwaves were filled with martial choruses singing patriotic marching songs and pledging to restore peace. On television, soldiers caked in makeup danced in flowing white chiffon capes to military music. So the only way to know what was really happen- ing was to make the long trek down to Tiananmen Square and watch. In the middle of all of this, Jim’s 70-year-old mother, Helen, came to visit us from Alabama and also got swept up in the excitement when she went down to the square with us. She saw the students’ huge white “Goddess of Democracy” statue modeled after the Statue of Liberty, and snapped photos of demonstrators sleeping in the square. And she, too, engaged in conversations with the protesters and felt the electricity in the air. On the evening of June 2, 1989, a brigade of PLA troops nearly succeeded in reaching the square. Several thousand young men, appearing no more than 15 years old, marched west along Jianguomen Boulevard. The people surrounded them, however, and persuaded them not to attack. The young soldiers were dazed and scared, holding hands with each other like children on the play- ground. This time they were sent in from the country- side and had no idea what they were getting into. The demonstrators tried to educate them about the events in Beijing and urged them to join in the protest. We walked among the groups as a sense of victory once again rever- berated across the square. The evening of June 3 seemed to be a repeat of the preceding nights. Helen, Jim and I spent the early evening walking around the square talking to the stu- dents. Then Helen and I said goodnight to Jim around 9:30 p.m. and took a cab back to our apartment, leaving him behind in the square. On our way home, we stopped at the Great Wall Hotel; anxiety pervaded the press gath- ered there. Many thought some kind of confrontation had to happen; otherwise, the gov- ernment would just cease to exist. Helen and I then returned to our apartment. Around 10 p.m. on June 3, Jim called and asked me to come back to the square. Hearing this, Helen commented: “This day has been amazing; the students have such zeal. The democracy movement seems so strong that the govern- ment can’t stop them.” “I know,” I said. “It is unbelievable that the students could turn back the army night after night. What a phe- nomenal thing!” I kissed Helen goodnight and tried to go back to the square — but people surrounded my cab and urged me to turn back, anxiously shouting, “Go home quickly; it is not safe, you can’t get through.” So I did. “Do You Know Where Jim Huskey Is?” On reaching the apartment at around 10:30 p.m., I heard a rising roar in the streets below and the building began to shake a bit. My heart sank. I looked out and saw a seemingly endless column of tanks rolling swiftly toward the city center. Knowing that Jim was in Tianan- men Square, I frantically called the embassy. “Do you know where JimHuskey is? Have you heard from him?” I asked the Marine guard on duty. “Sorry, ma’am, we’ve had no contact,” he responded. “Things are a bit confusing right now.” As tanks advanced on the square from the west along Changan Boulevard, Jim was one of the only U.S. em- bassy officers to witness firsthand the nightlong massacre. Moments after the shooting started at around midnight, a man standing next to him was shot in the middle of the forehead. Jim ran behind the trees in front of the Gate of Heavenly Peace of the Forbidden City, then retreated eastward along Jianguo Boulevard (the Avenue of Eter- nal Peace) as the government machine-gunned its own citizens. While most protesters either stood in front of the tanks or fled, Jim and a CNN cameraman did see angry crowds set one armored personnel carrier on fire, drag a soldier from it and beat him to death. From midnight to dawn, Jim ran in and out of the square, following each round of shooting to count the wounded and the dead. F O C U S People surrounded my cab and urged me to turn back, anxiously shouting, “Go home quickly; you can’t get through.” So I did.