A Soldier from LID 22. |
While
we were rushing pass the High Court on Lower Barr Street they cut off
the power and the whole city had suddenly descended into a total
darkness. Only the City Hall and Sule Pagoda were dimly lit by their own
emergency generators. When I looked down at my little wrist watch the
time was well over 11 O’clock. Right ahead of us were the lines of
armed soldiers from Myanmar Navy blocking the street at the intersection
of Lower Barr Street and Merchant Road.
We were now hopelessly trapped.
Bespectacled big brother now holding me tight by the neck whispered to me, “Little brother, we have to run into that lane between the MEB (Myanmar Economic Bank) branch and the American Embassy.” I told him that lane was a no-through-road as the other end was a dead end. He said, “I
know, but we have no other way out. Soldiers have blocked everywhere
and we just have to run into the American Embassy from the rear. Once I
counted 1,2,3 we run through the gap between two soldiers to get into
that lane.”
He was determined but we were scared
shitless. But I still explained to the two girls still holding me tight
by my sides what we were going to do and started looking for a
possible gap among the lines of soldiers standing at attention pose. We
were all horribly shaking with fears. And the bayonets at the end of
their rifles were horribly flashing in the moonlight.
The
girls asked me what we were going to do if the soldiers started
shooting at us. I had not a bloody idea so I just answered them to run
to escape. The crowd around us had already accepted the fact that the
soldiers were really going to fire soon and some people started crying
out aloud while some even sung the anthem louder and louder.
Some were even shouting ridiculous stuff like People’s Soldiers Our Soldiers, People’s Army Our Army. And we could hear the loud cries of We are Myanmar, What we’re doing is For our Myanmar from
the crowd behind us. I thought these cries were the desperate
pleadings of people to the soldiers to disobey if their superiors gave
them the orders to shoot.
By
that time we were at a quite a distance from the crowd back at the
Town Hall. There were only 20 or 30 people near us. Then the
bespectacled big brother quickly counted 1,2,3 and we four ran through
the lines of soldiers. Others followed us.
I
didn’t even recall how I pulled through two soldiers the two young
girls holding tight on my each hand. Amidst the yelling of the surprised
soldiers I didn’t even remember how we four and the rest all got
through unharmed without a scratch on us. But we got through the lines
of soldiers.
Only
later I could conclude that the possible reasons for our lucky escape
were that the soldiers didn’t really expect us to run through them and
they probably didn’t have the firing order yet and they were only the
navy men stationed in Yangon. If they were the battle-hardened Chin
soldiers coming from the frontline we would have been slaughtered like
what happened to the rest just a few minutes later.
Taking Refuge in US Embassy
Once we were out of the Lower Barr
Street we pushed away the barbed-wire barricades from the Embassy lane
and tried to enter the American Embassy through its side door. But the
brick wall behind the Embassy was more than two men’s height and the
side entrance had a full-height one-way turnstile through which one can
only get out not in. No way could we get into the embassy’s backyard
through that turnstile.
So
we broke through the door of the rear wall of the adjoining Government
office and climbed onto the protruding air-conditioning units on the
back wall of that office. From there we pulled ourselves onto the rows
of barbed-wire mounted on the top of more than 20 foot high
rear-brick-wall of the embassy. From there we had to jump down onto the
ground of the embassy’s narrow backyard. It was so high one of the
young girls fell and sprained her ankle.
All
together 22 in the backyard we counted. We didn’t even dare to breathe
aloud. The backyard and the whole surrounding was completely dark and
lifeless silent. Suddenly the lights in the backyard came on and the
CCTV cameras mounted on the back wall of the Embassy were alive.
Bespectacled big brother yelled out aloud in English that we were
students and immediately the lights gone off.
Then someone from the laneway shouted through a handheld loudspeaker, “Hey,
the group going in there, come out now. That area is the territory of a
foreign diplomatic mission and you all will be prosecuted. Come out
and go back homes now.” Then we heard someone calling the man with loud speaker, “Captain, Captain,” and after the sounds of the footsteps rushing away from the lane way the total silence had come back again.
State Massacre
The
troops had rapidly tightened their constricting hold of the besieged
crowd by shooting anyone on the streets and quickly advancing their
attacking lines inward towards the City Hall where the epicenter of the
huge protesting crowd was. Army had even issued hundreds of 12 gauge
shot guns to the shooting troops on the frontlines to enhance the
effectiveness of close-range killings. Conservative estimates put the
death toll at 10,000 at least.
Even
though we all sat together really close and holding each other’s hands
tight in the darkness our bodies were shaking with sadness and
surprise and fright and anger altogether. Bespectacled big brother said
in a crying voice, “Remember today and this time, and never ever forget this.” The time was 15 minutes before 12 O’clock on my watch.
11:45 in the night of August 8, 1988.
I
was so angry I had frightening goose bumps all over and the shivering
made the hair stood on end. My whole body was uncontrollably shaking as
I tried to control my busting anger. I felt like letting my mind go
and break some thing violently there.
After
few hours of shooting we started hearing the rushing in of many trucks
on the streets and later the watery splashing sounds of many
fire-engines cleaning the roads with their fire-hoses. Then we heard the
same many trucks driving fast passed the embassy towards the naval
wharves of Yangon. We could clearly hear the desperate Please help us, they are taking us away, they are killing us pleas and the deep screams of the wounded from the passing trucks. And all of us there cried.
As
their usual practice to hide the mass slaughter the Army immediately
sent in the sand-filled open trucks to remove the dead and dying from
the scene. The bodies some of which were still-alive were then taken to
the sand-filled naval barges waiting at the Yangon Naval Base and then
dumped at the crocodile-infested waters where the Yangon River meets
the sea. The Army also used the fire-engines to clean the scene of
massacre spotless within few hours to remove all the traces of mass
slaughter.
Finally the noises had slowly died down and the previous Army Captain came back again with a real loud speaker this time. “People
still in the Embassy’s backyard, come out and go back to your homes
peacefully. Otherwise we will take appropriate actions according to the
law,” he started shouting at us again.
But
I and the bespectacled big brother rushed in and stopped him from
opening the door. After that we just blocked the door with our backs and
told every one in the backyard to back down and not to come near us
but the two young girls were so scared they just came up and stayed
with us by the gate.
Later
the people from the Embassy’s second floor dropped down water and soft
drinks and cakes and bread for us. But I didn’t touch the food as I
didn’t feel like eating or drinking at all. Only fear and anger occupied
my mind and I was also thinking about the sad facts that the people
from the huge crowd in front of the Town Hall were brutally killed by
the countless bursts of automatic gun fires. Till the morning arrived
most of us kept on crying at the same time saying repeatedly that one
gun shot could hit so many people in the crowd.
At
about 6:30 we opened the door for the people wanting to go home. We
asked them to yell back at us if nothing dangerous outside but most just
silently disappeared except for the four who came back to the gate and
shouted there was nothing outside. But we didn’t believe them
and still we didn’t dare to go out. Finally only six including me left
in the Embassy’s backyard. Day was quickly breaking and we could see
each other’s faces clearly.
Except
for the big brother with glasses the rest were all teenagers 15 or 16
year old. Then we held each other’s hands tight and agreed to leave the
embassy compound. On the streets everything appeared normal like
nothing serious had happened last night. Thoroughly washed asphalted
streets were shinny black and not a piece of rubbish on them. Only then
I began to know the brutal characteristic of the military government.
I had the complete confidence to say that hundreds and hundreds of people died there that night by the evidence of me actually hearing myself the long bursts of continuous gunshots from the massive firing into the huge crowd. I could confidently claim that my statement is true. The bespectacled big brother and two young school girls are still alive today and they will be my witnesses.
I had the complete confidence to say that hundreds and hundreds of people died there that night by the evidence of me actually hearing myself the long bursts of continuous gunshots from the massive firing into the huge crowd. I could confidently claim that my statement is true. The bespectacled big brother and two young school girls are still alive today and they will be my witnesses.
Mourning for the Lost Souls
I
will be a witness in a people’s court when the time comes to prosecute
the mass murderers of Myanmar Army for the 8-8-88 midnight slaughter
of thousands of people in Yangon. For cruelly firing into the unarmed
crowd in front of the Yangon City Hall exactly at 11:45 in the night
of 8 August 1988 in the darkness after cutting the power to the city.
The Embassy’s CCTV camera records will prove our refuge that night in
the backyard of American Embassy on the middle of Merchant Street.
Every
anniversary of 8-8-88 Uprising has been a difficult day for me as I
felt like drowning as if my insides were depressed to such extent that I
couldn’t breath no more. On every August 8 I always felt like I would
never be in peace again. But I am not praying for the fallen yet. Only
when the military is put on a trial and only after the huge blood debt
is repaid I will pray for the souls of all the fallen to rest in peace.
My
head bowed down with deep sorrow I salute the fallen monks, men and
women, and the students who have sacrificed their lives in their fight
for democracy in Myanmar.
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