Eyewitness: Under fire in Thailand

Andrew Buncombe reports from the streets of Bangkok which

have become a lethal battle zone
By Andrew Buncombe in Bangkok
Thursday, 20 May 2010

There was nothing for us to do but take cover, as the

incoming fire sprayed and hissed. People lay flat,
terrified, crouched behind cars, tried to squeeze
themselvesinto the meagre protection offered by the
wheel hubs. They took cover frantically, diving behind
not just cars, but trucks, trees and even flower pots.
This was near to the entrance of a Buddhist temple, a
supposed oasis, a place of prayer. But we knew its
sanctity had been fatally breached when the crack of rifles
and the sound of bullets ricocheted close to the temple's
souvenir shop.
One after the other, the injured were carried, rushed and
dragged inside the temple compound. On bamboo mats,
blankets anything to hand, they were carried in bloodied
and screaming. Fearless Red Shirt volunteers did what
they could. They used towels, bandages and plasters to try
to treat ugly bullet wounds that needed surgery, not first
aid kits.

AFP/GETTY IMAGES

An anti-government protester stands under a canopy of

black smoke from burning tyres and debris in Bangkok

The sign outside the temple says "apayatan" a word

indicating that here in the centre of Bangkok is a safe
zone – a haven. Yesterday afternoon, as buildings across
the Thai capital blazed, thick black smoke billowing into
the air, the streets outside the revered, 15O-year-old
Buddhist compound had been transformed into an ugly,
lethal battle zone from which no one could leave.
Of those killed yesterday, several died directly outside the
temple – and many, many more wounded. Those
sheltering inside the temple were just as vulnerable. In
one of the compound's buildings, seven bodies were laid
out on the floor.
Early yesterday, thousands of Red Shirt protesters fled the
intersection that they had occupied for more than two
months after government troops finally forced their way
into the barricaded encampment and the protest leaders
told them it "was all over". They moved to occupy the
sprawling temple area, at the centre of which sits a series
of gold-edged buildings. The mood was tense and
anxious, but people believed – or so they prayed and
hoped – that the troops would not turn their temple into a
place of violence.
"After the leadership told us to go home, we came here.
They told us it was all over," said one of the Red Shirts, a
woman who had taken shelter within the compound.
Another woman, Malee Ngaun Sanga, added: "As long as
I have lived here I have never seen any government so
evil."
And then things rapidly changed. From the west, we
could hear loud firing as troops advanced towards the
temple area. Some reporters who had been outside said
that a small number of Red Shirts were firing back with
sling-slots, hand guns and petrol bombs. A photographer
said he saw a man shot in front of him as he ran away
from a line of soldiers, two bullets hitting him in the back
and apparently exiting from the chest. The image that
photographer had taken did not look good.
Suddenly the firing intensified. The explosions grew
louder and appeared to get nearer to us and the crack of
weapons became more frequent, their cap-gun noises
giving no clue as to their deadly capability.
A bare-chested young man ran in. He had a large, ugly
hole in the lower back. Was he struck as he ran or had he
already been wounded when he came in? It was too
frenetic, too chaotic to be sure. Either way, as soon as
they became aware of his injuries, a group of medics ran
to his aid, dragging him to what they hoped was safety.
The medics turned him over on to his stomach, pressing
down with bandages and towels. One woman in particular
appeared utterly fearless.
Soon afterwards, another victim was rushed in through
the entrance to the temple. He appeared older, frail. It
looked as if he had been shot in the shoulder. Once again,
the volunteer medics rushed to his help. The man's moans
were soft amid the ongoing clatter of gunfire.
That's when I – one of just a handful of journalists still
present at the temple – was hit in the outer thigh by what
appeared to be several pieces of shrapnel. They later
transpired to be large pellets from a shotgun that buried
themselves deep – perhaps three inches – into the flesh.
Where had this shooting come from? Were soldiers now
deliberately firing at journalists or did they simply not
care? The medics dived over, pouring cold water on the
burning wound and pressing down bandages to stop them.
It was effectively just a bad flesh wound but the
fragments of lead burned and stung. There were countless
people with wounds, but the medics – who had set up a
pharmacy and emergency clinic amid the temple's lush,
exotic foliage could have done no more.
Precisely which positions the firing was coming from was
unclear and why the troops would be shooting so widely,
with so little caution, was unclear. Was it coming from
snipers or from the regular troops? It seems almost certain
it was coming from the troops. And who within the chain
of command was ordering troops to fire so recklessly, so
close to so many people, the vast overwhelming majority
of whom were unarmed, unthreatening and who – as they
had been asked by the authorities – had just left their
place in the city centre. Had they had an opportunity to
leave, safely, then they would have. Everyone recognised
this was the end of their struggle, or at least this stage of
it. Pressing, vital questions need to be answered by the
highest levels.
Last night, the temple, built during the era of King Rama
IV when the surrounding area was lakes and canals rather
than sky-scrapers and shopping malls, was a cross
between a refugee camp and a hospital. As orange-clad
monks chanted prayers, people went about the task of
trying to find a place to sleep, laying down sleeping mats,
trying to arrange something to eat. Most had the most
meagre possessions, many washing their single change of
clothes every day. The mood was one of anxiety and
uncertainty. How long would they have to stay?
The terrible irony was that a well-equipped police hospital
– where staff had supposedly been preparing for this day
for months in advance – was located just yards from the
entrance to the temple. The road outside – now a deadly
shooting gallery – was simply too dangerous to cross.
What was incongruous was why the injured could not be
moved to safety. Some of the Red Shirts said that
hardcore elements were still firing at the troops, who they
feared would respond with the heavy weapons which they
had been firing all day. With an 8pm curfew imposed and
people too petrified to move, there was little option but
for us to be laid out on deckchairs, stretchers or mats.
Some sat quietly, others moaned. There was a feeling of
utter helplessness.
Eventually, after the intervention of the office of Prime
Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva – the man whom the protesters
have been so desperately seeking to remove from office –
some sort of ceasefire deal was brokered. Had the injured
not included a foreign journalist whose Canadian
colleague and translator made furious efforts to get help,
would so many, high-level efforts have been made?
Perhaps not. Either way, the Red Cross was able to send
ambulances in convoy to the temple to take away the most
badly injured. They said the injured women and children
would be collected later today.
The injured were removed, with priority given to those
most badly hurt.
The first to leave was the man shot in the lower back.
Next was a man shot in the leg. As he was lifted on the
stretcher and carried towards the ambulances, he moaned
and cried. He pressed his palms together as if to say a
prayer, perhaps both for himself and his country.
A man who had been shot in the thigh and I were taken
out in the final two ambulances. That man's name was
Narongsak Singmae, he was 49 and from the north-east of
the country. As he lay waiting to be taken away to
hospital, he said: "I cannot believe they are shooting in a
temple."
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/asia/eyewitness-under-fire-
in-thailand-1977647.html