“Why are you laughing?” I asked.
“I’d held off announcing my return to Pyongyang,” explained Father. “But due to word of mouth, I couldn’t delay the people’s desire to see me in the flesh any longer.”
The day prior, the General had attended an enormous welcoming rally. As he mounted the platform, the audience had cheered, “Long live General Kim Il Sung!” The entire crowd had been so moved when they saw their adored hero that every single one of them shed silent tears.
Then he had come up to the microphone. “The time has come,” the General said, “when we Korean people must unite our strength to build a new, democratic Korea. People from all strata should display patriotic enthusiasm and turn out to build a new Korea. Let those with strength give strength; let those with knowledge give knowledge; let those with money give money. All people who truly love their country, their nation and democracy must unite closely and build an independent and sovereign democratic state.”
“Manse Chosun!” they had replied. Long live Korea!
“Now we can go to Mangyongdae,” Father explained. “You can see where I grew up.”
All three of us got into a car and returned to the family home. As we passed the brushwood gate, I could not help but pause to touch it. Here was the same exact gate where Father had vowed to return only once Korea has been liberated—a vow that he had now fulfilled, twenty years later. The modest gate had been transformed from one of tears, expectation and waiting into a glorious arch of triumph.
My great-grandparents greeted us in their humble peasant home, thrilled to be reunited as a family. We all sat on the floor around the table as Mother filled the men’s cups with sake, everyone trying to speak at once. “I’ve been fully rewarded for the hardships I had to undergo,” my great-grandfather said, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I can meet my grandson again, who has returned as a general. I can meet his wife, who is fine like a moon. I can hold in my arms my great-grandson, who shines like the first star of the evening and brightens this house. Thank you so much! Those who have gone before me would be happy in their graves.”
As my family began to reminisce, my thoughts turned to when Father had been my age in the very place where I was sitting. I imagined him walking to school, picking fights with the children of the landlords. I imagined him helping around the home. And I imagined his mind brimming with Marxist revolutionary consciousness, visualizing a free Korea.
“General,” I said, “do you remember when you climbed the ash tree to catch the rainbow?”
Father laughed, and then so did everyone else. “Of course. I was younger then. It was a foolish thing.”
“Is that tree still there?”
He thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not,” he replied.
“There’s no need to speculate,” my great-grandfather told me. “The tree, the house, the family: we are all here, just as when your father left us. We are all a little older, but still our roots remain in the same ground.”
I stood up and pounded my chest, mustering as much pride as any three-year-old could. “I want to be like General Kim Il Sung!” I announced. “I am going to climb that ash tree myself!”
Everyone in the family applauded. “Go catch us a rainbow,” Mother said with a big smile.
With a salute, I left the house and walked down the path outside. Only then did I realize that I’d made a mistake. There were trees in every direction, and I had no idea which one of them was an ash tree. I wandered up and down the lanes, trying to figure it out for myself. Then I came across a bunch of village children playing around a tree that seemed a little different from the others. “Hullo boys!” I said. “That’s an ash tree, isn’t it?”
“You’re right,” they answered. “It’s an ash tree.”
I walked over and quickly climbed to a lower bough. “When my father was a boy,” I explained, “he climbed this ash tree to catch the rainbow.” I climbed as high as I could as the children looked on. Then I shaded my eyes with my hand and scrutinized the skies. If I couldn’t catch the rainbow, surely I’d at least be able to spot it. But, try as I might, I couldn’t see it anywhere. All I saw were dark, ominous shapes.
I scrambled down the tree—almost scraping my knee in the process— and ran back to the house. The children called out after me, wondering what was wrong. But I wanted to be with my family. I needed to feel safe.
As I ran into the house, I hugged General Kim Il Sung as hard as I could and buried my head in his strong, manly chest. “Did you catch the rainbow?” he asked me.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “Did you see it, at least?”
“There wasn’t any rainbow to be found,” I admitted.
“It’s all right,” Mother said, stroking my hair. “The rainbow isn’t always there. You’ll see it another time, I promise.”
“There wasn’t a rainbow,” I repeated, “but there were stormclouds upon stormclouds upon stormclouds.”
“Where did you see so many stormclouds?” the General said.
I pointed my little finger to where they’d been. “That way,” I told him. “They’re coming from the south.”
Chapter 2
Korea is Won
The first American assault on Korea took place in 1866. In August of that year, the scout ship General Sherman sailed up the Taedong River. The Yankee bastards committed many random predatory and murderous acts as they made their way to Pyongyang. There, they met with the Pyongyangites—and their doom. Led by my great-great-grandfather, Kim Ung U, the Koreans used fire-attack tactics to send the ship to the bottom of the river, killing every American aboard. The General Sherman incident showed the Yanks that it would be far easier to engage Korea politically than to attempt to conquer her.
Because the United States was so interested in Korea, in 1882 the US became the first Western state to establish diplomatic relations with the feudal Korean kingdom. The Korea-US Treaty stipulated that the two parties would assist one another if necessary, including each assuming the role of mediator should some third nation commit aggression against one of the signatories. What the Korean people didn’t realize is how easily the Yankee bastards threw their treaties in the rubbish bin when the matter suited them.
In 1898 the Yanks launched the Spanish-American war. As a result of their imperialism, the United States acquired Spain’s control of the Philippines. With this, the US imperialists finally got their long-sought foothold into Asia. In 1905 the Yankees secretly met with the Jap bastards and produced the Taft-Katsura Agreement. Just as the Japanese and the Nazis would later plan to divide the world in half, this agreement kept the two imperialist nations’ colonies safe from one other. Seven years later, in blatant repudiation of the Korea-US treaty, the Yanks agreed to recognize Japan’s claim to Korea. In turn, Japan would leave the Philippines alone.
With the Pacific War, America now turned its back on Japan. Though painted by the Yanks as an American victory, in actuality the Soviet Union sacrificed twenty times as many men as the United States did. For the Americans, the Pacific War was one of profits and not sacrifices. Of all the combatants, only the United States rapidly expanded its economy, on the only continent free from fighting, as the only nation to gain huge wartime gains while suffering minimal losses. The US imperialists then arrogantly proclaimed that this was “the American century.” They did not merely want to dominate the world, but an era of time itself.
In the last year of the Pacific War, Japan had restructured its command system and divided Korea administratively across 38 degrees north latitude. Troops stationed to the north of the line were placed under the command of the Japanese Kwantung Army, while those to the south came under the command of the 17th Corps. This system formed the blueprint under which the Americans and the Soviets accepted the Japanese surrender. Any Japanese forces stationed in Manchuria, the island of Sakhalin, and Korea north of the 38th parallel had to offer surrender to the commander of the Soviet Far East Army. Those in Japan proper, the Philip
pines, and Korea south of the 38th parallel surrendered to the commander of the US Far East forces.
On September 7, 1945—a mere 23 days after Korea has been liberated—advance contingents of the US forces landed at Inchon, just south of the 38th parallel. The next day, 45,000 soldiers landed in Pusan, entering Seoul on the 9th. The US troops proceeded to occupy the entirety of Korea south of the 38th parallel, supposedly to disarm the Japs—implying that they would leave once the Japanese army was disarmed.
Korea was not divided when she won back her freedom in 1945. Nor was there ideological antagonism within the country upon which to base such a division. If any nation were to be divided, it should have been the vanquished Japan (just as her close ally Nazi Germany was). Two competing proposals for establishing a Korean national government thereby emerged. The Soviet Union, recognizing the ability of General Kim Il Sung, suggested establishing a national government first and then assisting it by trusteeship. The United States, on the other hand, envisaged a military government enforced by the occupation army, with a national government to follow “in due course.” What “in due course” meant, when it would end and who would determine it were all questions that had no objective answer. Clearly, the actual answer was “whatever the United States decides.” The United States wanted to dominate Korea while the Soviet Union intended to assist her.
Each side proceeded according to their own perspective. In the south, America was desperate to maintain its foothold on Korea. If its air forces could take off from the Korean peninsula, then the radius of their action would include the entire Far East—a region of crucial world interest. Ignored the wishes of the Korean people, the US imperialists swiftly installed a military “government” in the south. This colonial regime, devoid of any political sovereignty or economic independence, was simply a tool serving the Yankees.
The US imperialists immediately began to turn the south of Korea into their private Asian military headquarters. They drafted “agreements” to build military bases and began to organize a puppet army. Their forces came from those who’d served in the Japanese Imperial Army in the past, men who had committed monstrous crimes against the Korean nation. Even non-commissioned officers were recruited from among such human dregs.
Finally, the US imperialists pulled one of their favorite tricks, one that they continue to use until this day. Whenever they conquered a nation and brought it into their empire, the Yanks installed some native figure as a strongman, presenting a facade of democracy and independence. This puppet would be exhibited as the duly chosen representative of his country, while at the same time being utterly and completely beholden to his American masters. In south Korea, that man was Syngman Rhee.
English-speaking, with degrees from Harvard and Princeton, Rhee flew into Korea on an American military plane. He advanced economic proposals notorious for their absurdly pro-American nature, and conceived of the Korean economy as an appendage of America’s. He was considerably isolated from the Korean people for his reckless and incoherent political views.
Rhee was not selected because he had a huge base of support in Korea; he did not. Rhee was not selected because he was known for his leadership skills; he was not. Rhee was not selected because he had a strong sense of loyalty and attachment to Korea; he had none. He was selected for one reason and one reason alone: He was the one man in all of Korea who would publicly proclaim, “We contemplate a political regime like that of the United States.”
In the north, however, things proceeded very differently after Japan’s surrender. General Kim Il Sung formed people’s committees, setting up the Provisional People’s Committee of North Korea on February 8, 1946. The fundamental question in the anti-imperialist, anti-feudal democratic revolution—the question of power—was thus solved successfully in north Korea. During this period, the Soviet army had some troops garrisoned in north Korea to assist the nation’s transition from a Japanese colonial hell to a people’s republic. Since General Kim Il Sung and the people of the Soviet Union both took inspiration from Marxism-Leninism, there was a natural kinship.
One morning during the transition, I saw Mother pacing outside the house. Not understanding what she was doing, I immediately ran to investigate. “Why are you walking around like that?” I asked her.
“Hush!” she said, gesturing for me to come close. I saw that she was by the General’s bedroom window, and she had a large stick with her.
“Is everything all right?” I said, quietly walking over to her.
“You know how hard the General is working for the people,” she whispered. “He only manages to get to bed just before daybreak, and then soon he must be up again. Well, all these sparrows are a real nuisance. They seem to enjoy making as much noise as possible, and the more noise they make the more trouble they bring. If I drive them off, the General will have a sound sleep. Remember: It’s important to do everything you can to assist General Kim Il Sung in rebuilding the nation.”
“I understand,” I said, taking her words to heart.
As the days went by, my faithfulness to the General only increased. Seeing that he relished clams, Mother and I gathered some from the Taedong River and brought them home in a handkerchief. We spread sand on the road which was used by the General’s car, and burned wormwood under the windows of his bedroom to chase away mosquitoes. I picked wild grapes, northern kiwifruit and hazelnuts in thick bushes so I could put them on his desk.
But I didn’t just want to help General Kim Il Sung. I desperately wanted to live up to his military legacy. So I began taking my wooden toy gun, and I dutifully brandishing it outside the General’s office. As Mother passed by me one afternoon she did a double-take. “Why are you standing there like his bodyguard?” she asked.
“I’m also a bodyguard!” I insisted.
She came over and patted me on the head for a long time. Well, that was all the encouragement I needed. I thought I was a real, live bodyguard and took my role extremely seriously. Whenever I was in General Kim Il Sung’s office, I always kept an eye open to make sure that there wasn’t any trouble. So it was that I was with him one cold day while he ate a modest lunch—working the entire time, of course. After he finished eating, he stretched out his arms and yawned. “I’m going to my room to take a nap,” he told me. “Will you be all right in here?”
“Yes, General,” I said. Then I stood up and saluted. The General smiled in return, then went to his side room and closed the door behind him.
Soon after, a foreign military official entered the General’s office. The man had many military ribbons pinned to his chest and was clearly an important and distinguished personage—but that didn’t matter. I was still a bodyguard, and I had to do my job. I immediately stood in front of the door where General Kim Il Sung was napping, blocking the foreigner’s way.
The man stopped short, confused. “Little boy,” he said, “get out of my way. I need to speak with General Kim Il Sung.”
“The General has just finished lunch and is taking a nap,” I informed him. “You can’t speak with him at the moment.”
“Oh? And who might you be?” he said, with a stern look.
“I am Kim Jong Il,” I replied, in a firm voice. “And no one is allowed to enter the General’s room. Come with me, please.” Dumbfounded, the foreign official followed me to a waiting room. “It’s cold outside, so please wait here. It will only be a little while.” I left him sitting there, and returned to my “post” outside the General’s room.
Not long after, General Kim Il Sung got out of bed and opened his door. “I almost tripping over you there!” he told me. “Were you standing here this entire time?”
“Yes, General. This is where your bodyguard belongs, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” he chuckled.
“There’s a man here to see you,” I said, in my best childhood impression of professionalism.
“What man? Where is he?”
“I don’t know his name, but I told him to wait for you.”
The General followed me down the hall, finding the official sitting there just as I’d left him. The two saluted each other and broke into big smiles. “I see you’ve met my son.”
“I have,” the man said.
“Comrade Jong Il, this is General Shtykov. He’s the commander of the Soviet army that is stationed in Korea.”
“Thank you for your patience,” I said. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” the man replied. “You have a fearless, bold and dignified attitude—just like your father. You are truly a boy general.”
I looked up at General Kim Il Sung, and he was beaming with pride.
“My son is very special,” he said. It wasn’t merely a father boasting about his son; it was quite simply the truth. From infancy, I had learned words earlier than most children. I displayed powers of keen observation and clear analysis from my earliest years. I was also sensitive to nuance, grasped ideas clearly and was able to express my thoughts accurately. Since language is a means of thought, being precocious in language highly accelerated the development of my thinking. Due to my faculty for creative thought, I regarded every problem with an innovative eye and exhibited an extraordinary perspicacity with regards to things and phenomena. I remembered everything I saw and perceived ten things when I heard one. I was so profound that all my utterances were original, novel and inventive. Once I began some difficult task, I was able to carry it to completion by my own efforts. Courageous and ambitious, I did everything in a big way due to my strong and daring character. Possessed of warm human love and broadmindedness, I was always generous, unceremonious and warm-hearted among people.
I dreamed of growing up and one day providing the masses with a plentiful and cultured life, just as General Kim Il Sung was doing. Vast expanses of fields were now full of golden waves of crops, while factory chimneys belched smoke, towering high into the blue sky. The children of workers and peasants streamed into schools, with satchels dangling from their shoulders. In the evening every home overflowed with merry laughter. Young people competed with each other to join the glorious Korean People’s Revolutionary Army, solemnly pledging themselves to prevent the enemy from depriving them of such happiness. The resourceful working people performed their assignments in high spirits, following the national economic policy. The new Korea was prospering, moving dynamically towards a bright future in accordance with the magnificent plan unfolded by the General.
Dear Reader: The Unauthorized Autobiography of Kim Jong Il Page 3
