Let’s talk about earthquakes and eclipses and Asian politics!
I’ve recently gone on about puppy love on an ocean trip from SF to Taipei when I was eight, followed by some feelings I had about other military dependents I found there engaged in a go-cart cult. The news lately about the April 6 Taiwan earthquake and the April 8 eclipse here sparked some more Taiwan memories.
The school I attended in Taipei was at an American school. It was overcrowded, so teachers had two classes composed of 80 students in the morning and afternoon. The classrooms were big long halls, with fluorescent lamps hanging by chains from a high ceiling over us.
About every three days, we noticed tremors. The first signs were the fluorescent fixtures swaying back and forth ominously. The island’s geography told us why there were so many quakes. Taiwan is riddled with mountains, and although Taipei is relatively level, you don’t have to go far to reach foothills.
I heard Taiwan was resting on the back of a sleeping dragon, lying on the ocean floor, and it stirred in its sleep and pushed the mountains up higher each time. I was a science nerd so I was too literal at the time, but now it makes sense to me.
My father took my mother, the dog and me on long sightseeing tours of the island. Of all the places I saw outside Taipei, the one that made the biggest impression on me was Hualien, on the east coast. The city, which seemed like a ribbon along the coast, was towered over by mountains to its west that rose straight up out of the city. It’s no wonder that Hualien has had many big earthquakes or that the epicenter of the recent quake was near the city.
My father was there because he was a U.S. Army major in charge of working with the Republic of China’s (ROC) army to operate a secret spy base on a south central mountain top, sending electronic laden spy planes over the Taiwan Strait and mainland China.
There were good reasons for spying. The People’s Republic of China was then shelling Taiwanese-claimed islands. There were rumors there could be an invasion of Taiwan itself. So, the U.S. and ROC armies kept an eye on the PRC movements.
The rumors led to daily air raid drills across Taiwan. Most houses had detached bomb shelters. Ours was an L-shaped concrete mausoleum you had to crawl into. It had 15 square feet for the three of us and the dog, but it was all mine because I was the only one who obeyed the orders to shelter.
The house was left behind by WWII Japanese occupiers. The whole neighborhood consisted of Japanese-style houses walled with courtyards hiding Japanese gardens. Most of them were then occupied by Chinese who escaped the civil war on the mainland just 10 or 11 years earlier, along with Chiang Kai-Shek.
The rumors of impending invasion ramped up, until the U.S. Army decided most of us dependents had to leave. I learned sometime in April 1958 that my mother and I were going to be flown back to Seattle by way of Anchorage.
But before that, we would be in the path of an annular lunar eclipse on April 19. Taipei was predicted to be dead center in the path of totality. We didn’t have to go anywhere to see it; we could just walk outside our walls.
As I remember, totality came at about 1:27 p.m. As soon as it did, strings of firecrackers went up over all our neighbors’ walls, and next the neighbors poured out of their houses beating pots and pans. I thought nothing could drown them out, but I was wrong. As the sky became dark as night, there was a roar all around us. The birds were raising hell, finding places to roost. After a minute, the birds fell silent, which was just as stunning as the earlier cacophony.
It was electrifying. And in the back of everyone’s mind was the notion that had made the gossip rounds: The moment of totality would be a fine time for the invasion to start.
It made the rush of Chinese neighbors into the street banging pots and pans in defense of the sun that much more meaningful.
Dr. Wes is the Real Change Circulation Specialist, but, in addition to his skills with a spreadsheet, he writes this weekly column about whatever recent going-ons caught his attention. Dr. Wes has contributed to the paper since 1994. Curious about his process or have a response to one of his columns? Connect with him at [email protected].
Read more of the April 17–23, 2024 issue.