I hated them. The communists killed my beloved Jin-mo and they would kill Korea, too. Like the Japanese, they wanted all of you. It was just like Jin-mo said—first they take your mind, then your soul and then your life. Well, I wasn’t going to give them anything more.
I ate a breakfast of dduk and strong bori cha. I wondered if I should make dduk cakes to bring with me but thought better of it. Jin-mo’s note said Mr. Gah would take care of me. I had to trust that he would.
I put on my coat and went out the door. The sun was shining making everything bright again. The willows filtered the sun like lace. It was almost warm. I headed to the provincial government building, careful not to look over my shoulder or do anything out of the ordinary. When I got there, I looked at the huge new statue of Kim Il-sung. He beamed down at me with outstretched arms. I threw a silent curse at him.
I walked inside and climbed the staircase to the Ministry of Education. I sat at my desk and bowed a greeting to my supervisor with the thick ankles. I began to work on a translation proclaiming that Kim Il-sung would be Korea’s supreme leader for all eternity.
When my supervisor left the room, I went to the service staircase and down to the street level. I pushed the door open to an alley jammed with military trucks and official government cars. I wound my way to a side street and turned south toward the Taedong River.
T WENTY-EIGHT
“I want to see the world,” I said to Mr. Gah, sipping green tea in a back room of the shabby Gimhae Hotel. He was thin and balding and had a lazy lower lip, but his eyes were sharp.
He asked me if I was in trouble with the authorities. The words bumped across his lip, making him sound drunk. I said no I wasn’t in trouble and I wanted to go because I didn’t have anyone here in the North. He asked me if I had someone in the South.
“No sir,” I said. “I have no one.”
Mr. Gah raised an eyebrow. “So you want to leave because you have no one here. But you have no one there, either? Are you sure you want to go?”
“Sir,” I said, “I believe they will kill me here.”
“And do you think it will be better for you in the South?”
I held Mr. Gah’s stare and thought about his question for a second. Then I said, “I honestly do not know.”
Mr. Gah’s face spread into a sloppy grin. A chuckle rose from his chest and spilled from his mouth. After a few seconds, he turned serious again.
“There is a fee to see the world,” he said in a professional tone.
“I understand. How much?”
“One thousand won.”
One thousand won was nearly all Jin-mo had left me. I counted out the money and laid it on the table in front of Mr. Gah. His lip curled unevenly into a smile. He took a sip of tea. “When do you want to go?” he asked.
“I have to leave right away,” I answered. “I cannot go back.”
Mr. Gah took the money and folded it into his pocket. “You’re lucky. We have a truck leaving tonight. Behind the hotel is a shed. Go there and wait.”
*
The shed was an old lean-to with a tin roof built against the hotel wall. I pulled opened the door and slipped in. It was dark. A man and woman and a young boy, huddled close to each other. I sat on the floor next to a sack of rice. I could smell the dampness of the Taedong River a few blocks away. Outside the shack, trucks rumbled over the cobblestone street.
After a few minutes, I could make out the others’ faces. I could see fear in their eyes. The man’s jaw was set at a defiant slant. The woman clung to his arm and held the boy close.
I smiled at the boy. He reminded me of Suk-ju. “What is your name?” I asked.
He blinked at me, then at his mother.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m going on a trip, just like you.”
The boy eased a little. “My name is Sang-dong.”
“Hush,” scolded his father. “Children should not talk to strangers.”
My heart went out to the frightened boy as he pushed his face into his mother again.
Sang-dong’s father looked at me suspiciously. “Why are you leaving the north?” he asked.
“They killed the man I loved,” I answered.
The man nodded. “There will be a civil war soon and the South will win. Maybe Korea can finally be united.”
“Yes,” I said, “although I hope it can be done without a civil war.”
The man said, “I have a brother in Taejon. His name is Yaeng Il-dak. He works for an American contractor there. I haven’t heard from him in over two years. I’m hoping he can help me get work. What will you do there?” he asked.
I hadn’t thought about it. Jin-mo’s note had only told me how to escape. It hadn’t told me what to do after I did. I had very little money and nothing except the clothes I wore, the comb with the two-headed dragon, and a baby growing in my belly.
“I don’t know what I will do in the south,” I answered. “All I know is that I will not stay here.”
We said nothing more and waited in the shed all day. My bladder grew painfully full and I was thirsty. My muscles ached from sitting, but my pregnant stomach was calm. Finally, the door opened. By the sun’s angle, I could see it would be dark soon.
Mr. Gah leaned in. “Go inside and use the toilet,” he said. “Hurry, the truck is coming.”
I followed the others inside the hotel. I waited until they were done in the toilet and then used it myself. I took a long drink from the tap in the basin. When we went back to the lean-to, a military supply truck was waiting for us. Mr. Gah stood at the tailgate, watching the street. “In here,” he said. “Quickly!” He lifted the tarp and helped each of us in.
Mr. Gah held up the corner of the tarp. “Listen carefully,” he said. “In four hours, the driver will stop and knock on the cab three times. It is the signal for you to get out. Find a tire on the side of the road. Take the path by it until you come to a fence. Don’t go off the path. When you get to the fence, go right fifty yards. There’s an opening in the fence. You’ll have to look for it. Go through it and follow the path on the other side to the road. Wave down the first truck you see. It will be the South Koreans.”
Mr. Gah jutted his lip at us. “Be quiet, stay low, and move quickly. Be sure you stay on the path on both sides of the fence. Understand? Stay on the path. There is a quarter moon tonight, so your chances are good. If you get caught, do not tell them about me or I will never be able to help anyone again,” he said. He dropped the flap closed and pounded on the truck side.
The truck lurched forward and rolled through the city. After a while, the ride smoothed out over what felt like a paved road. Sang-dong’s mother pulled him close and eventually, the boy fell asleep. As evening gave way to night, the back of the truck grew dark and cold. I wrapped my coat tight around me. I wondered if I was making the right decision to escape to the south. What the communists said about it made it sound evil. But I knew the north was evil and I didn’t want anything more to do with it. I had no choice. I had to make it to the south. I had to trust that my baby and I would be better off there.
Several hours later, the truck came to a stop. Three thuds came from the cab. Sang-dong’s father jumped up and crawled out. He helped his wife and son get down. As I stood to jump out, the truck began to roll. I placed a hand on the tailgate and jumped. When I landed, my ankle twisted and I fell. A sharp pain shot up my leg. I stifled a yell and pushed myself to my feet. I tested my ankle. The pain was almost unbearable. I hobbled over to the others who were crouching low in the ditch.
The truck disappeared over a ridge and we were alone in the darkness. We were next to a large, open field filled with dead waist-high weeds. It was very dark and deathly quiet.
“We have to find the path,” the man whispered. “Do you see the tire?”
He looked along the ditch one way, then the other. “It’s too dark. I’ll have to find it,” he said. He crawled along the ditch and a few seconds later, he came back. “This way!” he whispered. “Fol
low me.” He lifted his son and took his wife by the hand. They disappeared into the blackness.
I tried to follow them as fast as I could, but each step sent spikes of pain up my leg. A few yards down the ditch, I found them crouched next to an old truck tire. Together, we crawled to the top of the ditch to a path among the weeds.
Then, on the other side of a ridge, came bright lights from a vehicle heading toward us. My heart stopped as the faint sound of a truck engine broke the stillness of the night. “Quickly!” the man said, darting forward. I followed them, but the pain in my ankle made me fall behind. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see a truck crest the ridge and slowly come toward us. On top of the truck was a searchlight sweeping over the field.
I gritted my teeth and quickened my pace. Soon, I caught up to the others. The truck came closer. The searchlight cast its beam across the field to our left. The man stopped and crouched low. “I see the fence. It’s only a short distance if we go straight for it.” He handed Sang-dong to his wife. “I will lead the way. Come quickly.”
“No!” I whispered. “Stay on the path.” But the man had already disappeared. The woman lifted the boy to her hip and followed him.
I was about to follow too when the night sky exploded in a blinding light throwing me to the ground. The explosion echoed off the hills. I lay there for what seemed like several seconds, then pushed myself to my hands and knees. I shook my head to clear the ringing in my ears. I thought I heard screaming. The searchlight swept through the weeds next to where the explosion had been. Something moved in front of me.
The woman burst through the weeds with the boy in her arms. Blood covered them both. The woman’s eyes were wild. She thrust the boy at me. “Take him,” she cried. I was still dazed and didn’t understand what she wanted. The woman pushed the boy into my arms. “Take him!” she said through clenched teeth. I took him and she ran back into the weeds.
The searchlight scanned the area around us. Men were shouting from the road behind. The boy’s eyes were wide. His face was splattered with blood. He reached for where his mother had gone. “Ummah!” he cried. “Appa!”
I put my hand over his mouth and he squirmed and fought. I lifted my head above the weeds. In the distance, I saw the outline of a high fence topped with barbed wire. I left the path and ran for it. The boy continued to wriggle, but I held him tight. When I got to the fence, I tried to remember Mr. Gah’s instructions. I couldn’t remember if he said to go left or right. I went right as the voices behind us grew louder.
I looked along the fence for an opening but in the darkness, I couldn’t see anything. The searchlight swept the ground behind us. I dropped among the weeds. My hand came off the boy’s mouth and he cried out. I found the boy’s mouth again with my hand. “Shhh,” I whispered. “Please be quiet.” The boy, his eyes wide with fear, stopped struggling. When I took my hand away from his mouth, he stayed quiet.
As the searchlight moved closer, I felt inside my pocket for the comb with the two-headed dragon. It wasn’t there. I frantically searched the ground among the weeds, but I could not find it. The searchlight swept over us exposing something a few feet from me. It was the comb. Then I looked beyond the comb and followed the path of the searchlight. For a split second, the light illuminated the fence and I could see an opening next to a post. It was small, barely big enough for one person to squeeze through. I grabbed the comb and with the boy on my hip, I crawled for the opening.
The voices behind me grew louder. “Sergeant, over here!” a man said. There was the sound of boots running. The footsteps stopped where the explosion had been.
“You killed him!” the woman screamed. “You pigs, you killed him!”
At the sound of his mother’s voice, the boy jerked up. “Ummah!” he shouted.
“Someone else is over there!” a soldier yelled.
With the comb in one hand and the boy in the other, I ran for the fence. The boy squirmed and shouted for his mother. “Ummah!” he cried again. “Ummah!” I got to the fence and lifted the wire. I pushed the boy through. I crawled under the fence, grabbed the boy, and ran.
Be sure you stay on the path on both sides of the fence, Mr. Gah had said. I looked at my feet and saw I wasn’t on the path. I was terrified, but I kept running. The weeds slapped at my legs and my ankle screamed in pain.
A shot rang out, ripping through the weeds next to me. Then the searchlight found me. Another shot rang out, but this one came from in front of me. “Halt! Stay where you are,” a voice said. I stopped and crouched among the weeds. The searchlight stayed on me. There was the sound of footsteps approaching from in front of me. Suddenly, three sets of boots, black and polished, surrounded me. I looked up. Soldiers pointed rifles at the fence behind me.
The searchlight went out. A soldier reached down and took the boy. Another helped me to my feet.
“Be very careful to follow exactly where I step,” he said. “Welcome to the Republic of South Korea.”
T WENTY-NINE
August 2008. Seoul, South Korea
Mrs. Hong doesn’t seem to notice me as she stands at her apartment window telling her story as if the entire world is her audience. The sun has moved around and it shines on her. The mugunghwa blossom basks in its rays. Still dressed in her yellow hanbok, she has clasped her hands behind her back and she sways slightly. I notice the lines on her face are deeper than before, as if her story is aging her.
She tells me she was able to give young Sang-dong to his uncle in Taejon, one week after she escaped from the North. She said the uncle was not pleased to have another mouth to feed and as a reward for saving his nephew, he gave her a few grains of rice. Then, when she finished eating, he told her she had to leave. “I was on the streets of Taejon with nothing more than the clothes on my back, the comb, and a baby in my belly,” she says.
She stays quiet for a while and then turns from the window. She tells me she was able to work for food until several months later, when she gave birth to a girl. It was September 15th, 1950, three months to the day after the North invaded the South that started the Korean civil war. It was also the day General MacArthur landed at Inchon to repel the invasion.
“The baby girl,” I say, “she was my birthmother?”
Mrs. Hong nods. “Yes she was. I named her ‘Soo,’ for my sister Soo-hee, and ‘Bo,’ for my mother, Bo-sun. In Korea, it is not proper to name a child after an elder. But I did it anyway to regain a little of what I had lost. It was selfish, I suppose.” She flashes a mischievous grin. “But who would know? Would you like more bori cha?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer. I’m beginning to get a taste for it.
She goes to the stove and fills our cups. She hands me mine and sits at the table across from me, upright with both hands around her cup. “Soo-bo was born prematurely,” she says. “It was a difficult delivery. I was in labor for eighteen hours during the Battle of the Pusan Perimeter. The North had almost won the war. I was terrified that if they did, they would find me and kill me. So I went to Pusan with the retreating South Korean Army.
“Pusan was the war’s defining battle,” she continues. “The American Air Force turned the war for the South. There were bombs going off day and night. Thousands died. There was an equally violent struggle inside me. But finally, Soo-bo was born. She was sick for a long time. An American army doctor cared for her. Captain Charles Keegan was his name. He was young, not even thirty years old. He was able to find a cotton blanket for Soo-bo and gave me food from the American mess so I could nurse. I heard he was killed by a mortar a few months later.”
I take a sip of bori cha and try to imagine what it was like back then. “The war must have been awful,” I say.
She looks into her teacup and shakes her head. “It should not have happened. The Americans and Russians should have let us be after World War II. Perhaps then we could have resolved our differences.”
I push to the front of my seat. “When we visited Panmunjom they told us that the Russian
s gave the North weapons and pushed them to invade the South. The Americans only came in later. To prevent the communists from taking over.”
She glares at me. “Yes. But then they drove all the way to the Chinese border. Your General MacArthur’s insolence and disrespect for the Chinese made them believe the Americans were going to invade them, too. So they entered the war on behalf of the North. As a result, the war in my homeland went on for three more bloody years.”
“So you think we should have let the communists win?”
“I think the Americans should have been more careful with my country,” she says. “Understand, Ja-young, millions died in that war. Millions! They are not just numbers in a history book. They were families, entire villages, people I knew, my friends and countrymen. And millions more were left homeless with nothing to eat. After centuries of being torn between the Chinese, Japanese and Russians, and after thirty-five years of a brutal Japanese occupation, all we wanted was to be one country, at peace. Instead, we were a pawn in a game fought to a draw by the world’s superpowers.”
She looks at me like a teacher trying to get through to a stubborn student. I have to look away. I’d never had much interest in history before, but now I’m seeing it from someone who lived it. I’m beginning to see why Dad says I should take a few history classes in college.
“To answer your question,” she says, “we are better off having not let Kim Il-sung rule all of Korea. He became a despot, just like I had predicted. Although the corrupt American puppet Syngman Rhee was not much better.”
“What happened to you during the war?” I ask.
Daughters of the Dragon: A Comfort Woman's Story Page 16
