National Geographic : 1959 Mar
Quemoy's Fishing Fleet, Immobilized by War, Rots in Its Seaside Graveyard; An old man with a heavy mattock was care fully spreading the broken stones and tiles heaped among fallen beams. A younger Chi nese worked beside him with a rake. A young woman with a woven basket sorted the refuse by hand. Occasionally she would come upon some small piece of household equipment and carefully place it in the basket. I introduced myself to the older man. "What is your honorable name?" I inquired in Chinese. "My humble name is Lu," he replied, put ting down his mattock. "Lu Pao Hsu. This is -" he hesitated, "this was my home. Here is my son Lu Sze Nan and his wife." The couple bowed, then went on working while their father answered my questions. "For 22 generations my ancestors have lived in Nanshan and farmed our fields," he said. "This house had stood for 12 generations." He looked ruefully about him, prodding a pile of debris with a calloused bare foot. 426 "It was a good house," he said. "My sons and their wives lived here with us, and my grandchildren. There were 14 of us. We have 12 mow [about 2 acres] of land, and it is good land. We grew wheat and peanuts and winter potatoes. "Then on Number Eight month, 23 day, the shells came. Every day through Number Ten month, 5 day, they came. Our house is hit and broken. In the fields the crops are destroyed." The elder Lu's wife was killed in the first bombardment, and one of his sons died in a September barrage. Two of his grandchildren were wounded. The surviving members of the family live with relatives in Kinmen city. "How do you fill your rice bowl now that you cannot till your land?" I asked him. "It is very badly filled for all of us now," he replied. "I had a crop of winter potatoes ready for harvest, and we eat some of those and sell a few to buy other things."