The Lady and the Panda by Vicki Croke

Author:Vicki Croke [Croke, Vicki Constantine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-53587-0
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2005-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

Scene of utter devastation outside the Palace Hotel on Nanking Road on “Bloody Saturday,” August 14, 1937. COURTESY talesofoldchina.com

The explosions were deafening and deadly, shattering glass and smashing masonry. When the smoke lifted, “a scene of dreadful death was uncovered.” The pavement ran slick with blood. Severed limbs and heads lay among the shards of glass and rubble. In burned-out cars, charred occupants remained upright in their seats. The smell of blood and burning flesh mingled with the acrid bomb fumes. As the hundreds of dazed and dying came to, they writhed in pain on the debris-strewn street, filling the air with their sobs.

Minutes later, another two bombs exploded nearby in the French Concession outside the Great World Amusement Center, where Chinese refugees were packed tight to receive a handout of rice and tea. The devastation here was even worse. In a flash, the corpses of these desperate people were piled high, the remnants of their once-precious boxes, bundles, and birdcages strewn all about them.

“Death from little bombs rained from the heavens in the International Settlement and French Concession … to bring a screaming hell to hundreds of Chinese and foreign civilians such as has not been seen nor scarcely imagined in this city,” James Hammond wrote in The China Press. “All told,” according to historian Stella Dong, “it was the worst civilian carnage in a single day anywhere in the world up to that moment.” The tally for what was quickly dubbed “Bloody Saturday” was 1,740 dead, 1,431 injured.

Friends and relatives across the Settlement were frantic to locate loved ones near the bomb scene. Harkness's gang must have been distraught—particularly Reib, whose orders had put her directly in harm's way. But Harkness was unhurt. In fact, she hadn't been anywhere near the hotel when the bombs fell. Ignoring Reib's dire instructions, she had gone off to have lunch in what was considered a more dangerous part of the city—the Japanese section. “I naturally disobeyed orders,” she would later write of her decision.

Unscathed physically, she was not spared the horrible sight of the disaster. She had returned to the hotel minutes after the attack, finding a picture beyond imagination. “I hope never to see anything like it again,” she said.

If Reib hadn't realized it before, by now he knew how little Harkness needed coddling. When friends from the States wrote to him, worried about her, he replied, “Do not worry about Ruth, as she is fully capable of looking out for herself and has very devoted friends scattered over the country that will assist her in every respect. Besides this, she is a most resourceful person, and as you well know fully capable of looking after herself, if need be.”

That night, Shanghai, the flashy nocturnal city, went dark. A lightsout curfew was instituted, with most restaurants, cinemas, and clubs closing and locking their doors.

The day, which had been rougher than anyone would have guessed, prompted an immediate race to reach safety. While hundreds of thousands of Chinese continued to pour into the International Settlement, the foreigners began to flee from it.

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