In 1976 the Chinese Government invited a group of Congressional staff members to visit. I was chosen to be part of the delegation. The prospect was exciting -- exactly how exciting I had no idea.
On our second night in Beijing staying on the 8th floor of the Peace Hotel, shown left, July 28, our
group of about ten, with escorts, were treated to dinner at one of the city’s
famed restaurants in which every course employs some part of the
duck. Ours, as I recall, was
called the “Sick Duck Restaurant,” because it was located near the main
hospital. Appropriately, I
was sick that night with terminal indigestion, having eaten much too much fatty
duck, and was staggering from the bathroom back to bed when the most deadly
earthquake of modern times and one of the three most deadly in recorded
history, struck at 3:42 a.m.
Above is a chart of the severity of the shake
on the Richter Scale – at the epicenter 8.2., in Beijing, a 6. It would become
known as the Tanshang Earthquake for the major Chinese city it destroyed,
killing up to half a million people – the devastation shown below. Although we were 140 kilometers from
the epicenter the earthquake made an indelible impression.
It began with a series of blinding flashes in
the sky; white, yellow and orange balls of light exploded everywhere. My first thought was that the Russians
had attacked China with nuclear weapons.
My second was: “Those bastards--why did they have to wait
until I got here.” My next
thought was: “How the hell do I get home?” My fourth: “No way.”
As soon as the lights stopped, the room began
shaking and a deafening noise like a dozen out-of-control locomotives filled
the air. My roommate, Dick Moose,
shouted, “It’s an earthquake. Get under the bed.” I made an attempt but the bed was only
five inches off the floor and my hind end would not fit under no matter how
frantically I struggled. I lay
flat on my ailing stomach, with only my legs protected, and said a simple
prayer: “Lord, stop the earthquake or we’re all dead.”
According to the Marine guard at the U.S.
Embassy, the shaking lasted for 45 seconds -- it seemed more like an
eternity. When it stopped, Dick
-- who kept his wits about him-- yelled, “We have got to get everyone out of here.” Luckily we both had flashlights, bought
in Japan after Dick remarked something about the lights always going out in
Asia. We dressed quickly, pulling
on pants and shoes, and set out to round up others in our party.
We were on the 8th floor and except for our
lights, it was pitch dark. I
gathered a group of three or four and by flashlight we slowly made our way down
the stairs. One woman had hold of
my arm so tightly that the marks of her nails remained in my skin for several
days. We assembled along with
dozens of other hotel guests on the front lawn of the hotel. In the photo right I am on the right, still
wearing my pajama tops. We never went back to our rooms. Our hosts, fearing we would be hurt in
an aftershock, packed for us and brought us our clothes. Ambulance sirens wailed
constantly. Everywhere Chinese by
the hundreds were streaming into the streets.
As daylight appeared, it became clear that
damage was light in Beijing despite the severity of the quake. During the day as we moved about the
city the demeanor of the people was remarkable. Residents had been ordered out of their homes for fear
of aftershocks. Everywhere
families were busy along the sidewalks constructing lean-tos made from
telephone poles and blue plastic tarpaulins. As the shelters were completed, mattresses and cooking pots
were added. Mothers nursed babies,
students read books, and dinner proceeded almost as if nothing unusual had
happened. Despite the heavy rains
that fell that day, Chinese stoicism seemed universal.
Our hosts informed us that our trips to the
Forbidden City and the Great Wall had been canceled and that instead the next
day we would be transported by train from Beijing to points south and
west. We were given a choice
of sleeping accommodations for the night:
The soccer stadium, our automobiles, or mattresses on the floor of the
ballroom of the defacto U.S. Embassy. (Full diplomatic relations had not
yet been restored.) Without hesitation
we chose the Embassy, shown here.
Even before the earthquake the U.S. Ambassador had planned a
cocktail party for our group at the Embassy that evening, inviting high level
Chinese officials who could speak English. Among them was Tan Wen-Sheng, the U.S. educated protégé of
Madame Mao who became “Honey Huan,” a character in the Doonesbury comic
strip. I was conversing with her
when, some 15 hours after the initial quake, an aftershock registering 7.1 on
the Richter scale jolted the room, sent table lamps flying, and pictures
pitching perpendicular to the wall.
Although well fortified by martinis by this time, I was aware that the
ground I was standing on had turned to jelly. Abruptly, the party ended.
That night as we lay to sleep on bare
mattresses, I could feel each aftershock through the ballroom floor. At about midnight came a sharper
than usual shock. Instantly I was
drenched in sweat.
The day after the earthquake a train was ready
to take us to Honan Province south of Beijing. It was stocked with the two provisions we had ordered: plenty of beer and yellow-meat
watermelon. Thus provisioned, we were hustled out of the capital city. Days of
perspiration were to follow, not from anxiety, but from the extreme and
unrelenting heat of July in East Central China. Referencing a popular food product our delegation adopted
the name “Shake and Bake.”
Postscripts: The earthquake lights have been remarked on by
many observers to the Tanshang disaster.
They show up in only the most violent quakes and until the 1960s when actually
photographed in Japan, as shown here, they were considered mythic by scientists. Various theories of their origin
exist, but one that seems most plausible involves quartz-bearing rocks. Those rocks are known to generate an
electrical charge when subjected to extreme mechanical stress. As shock waves rolled out from
the epicenter, the rocks were squeezed, resulting in the bright flashes. Still, however, our Chinese hosts
seemed to enjoy hearing my story about mistaking the earthquake for a Russian
nuclear attack.
WOW!! What a scary situation.
ReplyDeleteDear JHD: You can say that again. But it all happened so fast that initially it did not seem so. It was only that night as the aftershocks continued that I began to sweat.
ReplyDelete