by Ellen Oh
He felt the burning sting of tears in the backs of his eyes. This pain was real, and Doha didn’t know what to do about it.
His father pulled away and wiped his eyes. “You should go home, Doha. You must be exhausted.”
“Aren’t you coming too?”
“I can’t. I have to stay here for Mija’s family,” his father replied. “If only Mija’s mother had brought her to me even a few hours earlier, she could have lived. If only they didn’t believe in shamanism more than medicine.” He stared off at the horizon.
There was a bleakness in his father’s eyes that weighed heavily on Doha’s heart. He knew how deeply his father cared for all his patients.
“I’m sorry, Appa.”
Dr. Han stretched and got to his feet. “Let’s get you home and in bed. It’s getting late.”
With a steady hand on Doha’s back, father and son walked out of the office, past the family weeping in the operating room, and to the front desk where Nurse Cha was sitting.
“Good night, son!”
Doha waved and walked out the front door. As he stepped out onto the road to his house, he could hear the loud engine noise of approaching vehicles. He watched as three military trucks drove past him to the front of the clinic and stopped abruptly, kicking up a huge cloud of dust. They were Republic of Korea Army.
Doha coughed and watched as a ROKA soldier in a dark olive-green uniform jumped down and strode into the clinic. Within a minute, he returned with Doha’s father and the two nurses. Another soldier climbed out of the lead truck and bowed to them. Doha was too far away to hear, but the soldier looked and acted like an officer. He could see he was right when the man began shouting orders and the soldiers in the trucks sprang into action. There was a commotion at the back of the truck. Doha could hear moaning as they began carrying injured men on stretchers into the clinic. They carried in ten injured soldiers. Doha inched closer to peer around the truck and was alarmed to see how badly hurt the men were. Some were missing limbs, and one had his face completely wrapped in bloody bandages.
After the last of the wounded were transported in, the commanding officer saluted Dr. Han, and then with one last bow, he and all his men boarded the trucks and drove off again.
Doha stood staring at the line of trucks driving away. If they were dropping off wounded here, then the fighting must be close. Doha was chilled by the thought, worried for his family and friends.
Junie
“Grandpa, why did Mija’s mom not believe in doctors? I don’t understand. Why did they go to a shaman? What could a shaman do?”
“Back then, many superstitious people believed that you got sick because of evil spirits,” Grandpa says. “They didn’t trust modern medicines. They relied on folk remedies, herbs, and offerings to shaman. It was around that time that Korean medicine modernized. A lot of Korean doctors would get American medical school training and return to Korea. But even now you will find people who would rather pay money to ward off evil spirits than go to the hospital.”
“Poor Mija.” I sigh.
“THE COMMIES ARE COMING! The Commies are coming!”
Doha sat up in shock to see his friend Kitae running into his courtyard to scream the news. He’d been lying on the cool bamboo mat of his living room with the sliding doors open to allow the warm breeze to circulate through the house.
“Eh, what?” Doha asked in confusion. “From the mountains?”
His friend had to stop to catch his breath. Kitae’s missing front teeth caused him to sound like a breathy whistle as he struggled for air.
“No, North Koreans! The KPA are marching into Seosan,” he wheezed. “Saw them with my own eyes. Must warn everyone!”
“Did you go to the clinic?” Doha asked urgently “The ROKA soldiers are there! The ones who arrived a few weeks ago.”
Kitae’s eyes grew big. “I’ll go warn them!”
As Kitae ran off, Doha got up to follow him.
“Where do you think you’re going? Lie down right now,” his grandma scolded. “You’re still sick.”
“But Halmoni! I have to go to the clinic and warn Abeoji!”
His grandmother grabbed him by his shoulders and pushed him back on the mat.
“You have to lie down and not worry about the clinic,” she retorted. “Kitae will take care of it just fine.”
Reluctantly lying down, Doha frowned. “But the soldiers. They’ll be captured by the enemy.”
Halmoni brushed his hair gently to the side as she wiped down his face with a cold wet towel. “And your father will do what he can to help them,” she said gently. “You’ve had a fever for two days now, so you’re not going anywhere until you’re all better.”
Worrying about the ROKA soldiers had strained him, and Doha fell into a feverish sleep. When he woke up, his fever had finally broken. Feeling strong enough to eat, he sat up to see his grandmother setting the low dining table with food for his sister, who’d just returned from the clinic.
“Doha, you woke up? Come eat,” his grandmother said.
Doha sat up and slid over to the table, where his sister was picking at her food. “Noona, what happened to the soldiers? Did Kitae come and warn you?”
Yuni’s pretty face paled as she blinked back tears.
“What’s the matter, my precious granddaughter? What worry is keeping you from eating?” Halmoni asked.
“We didn’t have much time before the Reds arrived,” she said in a shaky voice.
Doha was hit with uneasiness. “But the ROKA soldiers! What happened to them?” Doha asked.
Tears suddenly coursed down Yuni’s face. She dashed them away with the backs of her hands and took in a shuddering breath. “We had no way of hiding them; the Reds came too quickly,” Yuni recounted in a quiet voice. “They had wounded also and demanded that they get immediate care. When they brought them in, they searched the clinic and found the ROKA soldiers on the second floor. They took them all away, even the ones too sick to be moved. And they were so brutal. Abeoji tried to stop them and they put a bayonet to his throat. Then the officer in charge held a gun to Nurse Pak’s head and said, ‘We need a doctor, but do we really need two nurses?’”
“Is she okay?” Halmoni asked in concern.
Yuni nodded. “Eomeoni explained that given the number of wounded that needed care, even two nurses were not enough. So they let Nurse Pak go, but I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“What did they do with the soldiers?” Doha asked.
Yuni shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Aigo! Aigo! Aigo!” Halmoni was beside herself with shock. “Those poor, unfortunate boys!”
Halmoni had helped the nurses at the clinic with a few of the young soldiers. She’d been upset to see that many were no more than teenagers. All she could talk about was how they were too young to be at war.
“What’s going to happen to them?” Doha asked. “They won’t really kill them, will they?”
His sister looked at him with eyes wide with fright. They’d heard so many horrifying stories about North Korean cruelty. Doha feared he already knew the answer to his question.
Late that night, Doha’s father finally came home. The hot night had kept Doha twisting and turning. He decided he’d go see his father. But as he approached the living room, he heard his father talking about what had happened earlier that day with Halmoni and Doha’s mother. Knowing that they would probably stop the conversation if he appeared, Doha decided to eavesdrop on them.
“What’s happening? Has all of Korea fallen to the Reds?” Halmoni asked.
“From what I’ve heard, the North Koreans have captured Daejeon, and President Rhee and his government have fled to Busan.”
“Spineless cowards,” Halmoni spat out. She’d always hated Rhee, calling him a fake Korean and an evil man. “What about those young soldier boys?”
There was a long pause, and then Doha could hear the exhaustion and anger in his father’s voice. “They took them.”
“They’re not in prison,” Dr. Han said.
“Then where are they?”
Someone was crying. Doha peeked around the doorway to see his mother sobbing into her hands.
Halmoni was wiping the tears from her face. “Don’t tell me they killed them?”
Doha could hear the pain in his father’s voice. “They took them near Buchunsan and buried them alive.”
Doha covered his mouth tightly to keep from making a sound. Buchunsan was a small mountain on the other side of town. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He’d been talking to one of the soldiers every day. A nice guy from Seoul. He’d been telling Doha all about Seoul and what it was like in the biggest city in Korea.
“Aigo, aigo,” his grandmother cried over and over again.
She was gently patting Doha’s mother, who was doubled over in tears. His father sat with his head bowed. His hands, clenched into tight fists, were shaking slightly.
“Ideology will kill us all.”
Junie
“I don’t understand, Grandpa,” I say in shock. “Why did they kill the soldiers? They were wounded. They couldn’t fight! Weren’t they supposed to be prisoners of war or something?”
Grandpa nods. “That’s because the North Koreans did not consider South Korean soldiers to be prisoners of war, protected under the Geneva Convention. Instead, they considered them to be fellow citizens who were committing war crimes.”
I’m so horrified I sit staring at my grandpa for several minutes.
“Junie, you want me to stop now?”
“No, no! Please don’t stop.”
“DOHA! HELP ME, PLEASE!”
Doha was sitting on the wooden porch of his house with his sister, eating corn, when his friend Gunwoo ran into their courtyard in tears. Doha hadn’t seen Gunwoo since the day at the pond, which felt like ages ago.
“Gunwoo! What’s the matter?” Doha asked.
His friend was sobbing so hard they couldn’t understand him.
“Gunwoo, calm down. We don’t know what you’re saying.”
Yuni offered him some corn, but Gunwoo, who normally ate any food in sight, shook his head and continued to cry.
The boy took shuddering breaths as he tried to stop crying.
“What’s the matter, Gunwoo?” Doha asked again. He rubbed his friend’s back, trying to comfort him.
“Have you seen my parents?” Gunwoo asked.
“No, what happened?”
“Last night, my mom made me hide in the bushes behind the house. She told me not to come out no matter what happened. And then I heard the soldiers come. I could hear a lot of yelling and screaming, and they were breaking everything in the house. And then they took them both away!” Gunwoo began crying again. “I hoped they’d come back, but they never did, and I don’t know where they are.”
Yuni and Doha looked at each other in horror.
When the North Korean KPA had rolled into town five days before with a fleet of trucks and hundreds of men, they’d immediately taken over the town administration. Then they began arresting everyone affiliated with the local government. They’d imprisoned Police Chief Song and all his officers on the very first day. Then they went after the village leader, Mr. Choi, and a few of the elders. When Doha’s father tried to speak on their behalf, he was told to focus on the care of the KPA wounded, or he would be arrested also. Now the town was occupied by an enemy force, and everyone was uneasy. Doha had not been allowed to leave his neighborhood or see any of his friends.
“They said it was because my older brother joined the military police,” Gunwoo choked out. “They said he’d escaped, but our parents didn’t, and would have to pay for his crimes. Doha, you have to help me, please! I have to find them.”
Doha looked at his sister, who clutched at the neckline of her shirt, her eyes worried.
“We should talk with Abeoji first,” Yuni said. Their parents were at the clinic, as usual, and their grandmother had gone to visit a friend.
Gunwoo let out a keening sound of such anguish it stabbed at Doha’s heart. “I need to find them now! I’m gonna go myself, then.” He turned away, his usually proud form wilting from the weight of his fear.
“Wait, Gunwoo. Let me get ready and I’ll go with you,” Doha said. He quickly rushed through his morning routine and joined his friend.
“Doha, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Yuni said. “Let me go run next door and talk to Abeoji first.”
“Noona, you go talk to him and I’ll go ahead with Gunwoo.”
“Be careful, Doha,” she shouted after him.
The boys ran into town together, stopping first at the market square, but everything was closed. There was hardly anyone out on the streets. Only North Korean soldiers on patrol everywhere, their tan uniforms looking drab and dusty.
With the town so deserted, Doha was sharply aware of how much they were sticking out. He suddenly thought of Sunjin. His sister had told him that the KPA were paying Sunjin’s mother to cook and clean for them.
“Gunwoo, we can’t just wander around. Let’s go ask Sunjin; he might know.”
“I’m not asking that red traitor anything,” Gunwoo responded fiercely.
“Gunwoo, don’t be like that. He is still our friend.”
“He’s no friend of mine . . .”
“He’ll help us. I know he will. I’ll go ask him.”
Anger gave way to desperation and Gunwoo gave a short nod. He stayed several lengths behind as Doha ran to Sunjin’s house. Sunjin’s house was busy, North Korean soldiers coming in and out, Sunjin’s mom serving them, but with a strained expression on her face. Sunjin was filling cups with water and cleaning up after the men.
“Sunjin,” Doha whispered several times. Sunjin looked around and casually backed away from the house before dashing out.
“Doha, what’s up?” Sunjin said, then caught sight of Gunwoo lurking several houses back.
“What are you doing here with him? You’ve got to be careful. His family’s been branded traitors.”
“Sunjin, we need your help,” Doha said. “We’ve got to find Gunwoo’s parents. Do you have any idea where they are?”
Sunjin shook his head. “And even if I did, I couldn’t help him. We’d get in trouble too.”
“Sunjin, it’s Gunwoo’s family. He’s our friend. Just please find out where they might have taken them.”
Sunjin hesitated, sliding a look at Gunwoo. The big boy looked frightened and suddenly small. His face now no different than when they’d first met five years before.
“Wait here,” Sunjin said, and slipped back inside. It took what felt like an eternity, but was at most fifteen minutes, before he returned. Gunwoo darted forward quickly.
“Where are they?”
Sunjin hushed him and pulled Gunwoo and Doha to the side of the house.
“They took Chief Song and his men to Dangjin Prison to stand trial for war crimes or something like that. But the government officials they took to the farthest valley of Palbongsan, on the west side. I don’t know why or what’s there, but that’s all I know. Be careful.”
At his words, Gunwoo took off down the road.
“Gunwoo, wait!” Before Doha could follow, Sunjin grabbed him by the arm.
“Doha, I don’t think Gunwoo should go there alone,” he said. “I think something bad happened to them.”
With a sad look, he said sorry and went back into his house.
Doha raced after Gunwoo, catching up with the bigger boy fairly quickly. Doha had always been a faster runner.
“Gunwoo, wait! I think we should go get my father,” Doha said.
“Why, Doha? So that he can be arrested also?” Gunwoo asked bitterly. “Don’t worry, I’ll go alone. You can go home now.”
Unsure of what to do, Doha kept pace with his
friend. He desperately wanted to go home and get his father. But what if what Gunwoo said was true? What if he went to get his dad and caused him to be arrested by the KPA? His father was already being watched. No, it was better for Doha to go instead. They wouldn’t possibly arrest two twelve-year-olds, he hoped. He was definitely afraid. Sunjin’s warning not to let Gunwoo go alone had reminded him about what had happened to the ROKA soldiers. The North Koreans had shown no mercy, even to wounded men who could do no harm.
Doha stayed with Gunwoo on the ten-kilometer trek to Palbongsan. It took them over two hours to walk. They could see it long before they reached it. Several times they hid as trucks and North Korean soldiers marched by them.
Palbongsan meant “eight peaks mountain,” with its highest peak standing over three hundred sixty meters high. The peaks lined up all in a row and made for a beautiful landscape. It was a favorite place for people to go hiking and appreciate nature’s glory. The boys had to walk around the mountain to get to the west side valley. They knew they were close when the beauty of their surroundings was jarred by the loud weeping and wailing of distraught family members. Doha began to slow down, but Gunwoo raced ahead. The scene they came upon was gruesome. Women wailed around bodies lying thick on the grass.
Doha couldn’t help but stare at their feet. Most of the shoes were straw. Doha knew what that meant. He’d seen them in his father’s waiting room. Those who were too poor to own a pair of even rubber shoes. They were peasants. Mostly farmers or poor villagers. He’d heard that the Communists were targeting mostly police and government officials. So why were there so many poor people here? What had they done to deserve to die?
Suddenly, he heard Gunwoo scream and then begin to sob. “Appa! Appa!” He was kneeling next to a body.
Doha immediately noticed the shiny western shoes on its feet. Black patent leather, like the foreigners. Gunwoo’s father had been so proud of the shoes he’d gotten from his eldest son, a police officer in Daejeon. He polished them until they gleamed. Townsfolk commented that they could see Gunwoo’s father from miles away just from the shine of his shoes. He wore them every day to work at the administrative offices where he was in charge of meticulous recordkeeping. Gunwoo had been proud of the fact that his father had been a headmaster of a high school in North Korea. A stern-looking man, Gunwoo’s dad was actually very kind and generous—he would always give out toffee candy to any child who greeted him. But now, Doha almost didn’t recognize him. His face had been badly beaten and his body stabbed multiple times. But the worst were his eyes. They were missing. Doha’s legs gave out and he sank down next to Gunwoo. What had this kind man done to warrant such a horrible death?
