The Spirit of the Dragon

by William Andrews

  I asked, “What will happen to Young-chul?”

  “As I told you,” Byong-woo replied, blowing smoke in the air, “he will be fine.”

  I looked at him. “How do you know? Mrs. Saito told me before my wedding that she would banish me and any of my children to the street when she could.”

  “Mrs. Saito,” Byong-woo said bitterly. “Mr. Saito is an honorable man. He is misguided, but honest and ethical. On the other hand, Mrs. Saito, she is the devil.”

  He looked at me directly. “Your son will be fine. I know because Kiyo will see that he is.”

  “But Fumiko is the one who takes care of Young-chul, not Kiyo.”

  “Fumiko is weak,” Byong-woo said. “I do believe she is fond of your son, but she is in love with Haru, though he only uses her for his own pleasure. You see, Haru is a spy for the Kempei tai. They do not trust Mr. Saito. They question his loyalty to the emperor.”

  “But Mr. Saito has always spoken as if he is loyal.”

  “Yes. He is the director-general and an educated man. But he and Hisashi are much alike. They are sensitive and that is not something that fits well in the new Japan.”

  “What about Yoshiko? Is she a spy, too?”

  Byong-woo shook his head. “She is a mystery to me. I was never able to find out much about her.”

  “So, Kiyo will take care of Young-chul,” I said. “I never thought she liked me.”

  “She didn’t. She thought you were a chinilpa for marrying Hisashi. I must admit, I thought so, too.”

  “Do you still?” I asked.

  “I am not sure,” he replied, snuffing his cigarette out. “We will have to see.”

  After a while, our guide came back and said it was safe to go on. We walked all night and hid and rested in the forest the next day. The guide squatted behind a bush with his rifle as we rested. I don’t think he ever slept. When darkness came, we hiked all night and rested during the day. We drank water from streams and dug roots to eat. After four days of hiking, the forest gave way to rolling hills covered with wheat fields, and I remembered what my brother had told me about Manchuria. It seemed like you could see until the end of the earth. It was cold at night and warm during the day.

  I kept pace with our guide and Byong-woo. My legs were no longer sore and my breasts were no longer full. I was growing strong, like I had when I’d worked the fields. I tried not to think about Young-chul, but he was always with me. I tried to imagine how Kiyo would treat him. I thought about Hisashi. I wondered how close I was to him. Perhaps his camp was just over a hill or in the next valley. I sent my love to him and resolved to survive this ordeal so that someday I would see him again. I thought about my parents who were here, too. They, like Hisashi, might be close by. Perhaps they were where I was going. Perhaps I would see them soon.

  On the seventh day, the hills had turned to low mountains, broader and farther apart than those in Korea. A group of men with rifles met us in a valley. The men talked with our guide and then all but one quickly marched off. Our Chinese guide gave us a quick bow and headed back from where we came with his rifle and backpack over his shoulder. The other man bade us to follow him. We crested the hill and made our way into another valley. In the high places, men with rifles stared at us from behind boulders. The valley twisted and narrowed into a glen with a dry riverbed. Beyond a few weather-beaten trees stood tents and huts made from sticks. Six horses stood in a pen. Dozens of men in tattered clothes milled about, many who carried rifles. Others had pistols in their belts.

  We stopped in an open area, and the man who we’d been following said, “Wait here.” We stood as the rebels examined us from a distance. There must have been sixty or seventy in all. I saw women in the group and was surprised to see that some carried pistols in their waistbands. The women looked tattered and hard. Some wore their hair down and untied, which was inappropriate given that they were among men.

  A man came out of a tent followed by several other men. Tall, and with a purposeful walk, he wore a dark plain tunic jacket and high leather boots. He had his hair cut short. He walked up to Byong-woo and me.

  “Welcome, Byong-woo,” he said without bowing or extending his hand. “I am pleased you made it here without incident. Thank you for your service to the resistance. We will talk later.”

  Byong-woo bowed to the man and said, “Thank you, Commissar.”

  The man faced me. “So, you are Suk-bo,” he said. “The one who the Kempei tai wants so badly. I am honored to meet you. My name is Kim Il-sung.”

  TWENTY

  I bowed to him and asked, “Are my parents here?”

  “Come to my tent,” Il-sung said. “We can talk there. Byong-woo, I will send for you later.”

  As Byong-woo walked away, I followed Il-sung to the compound’s largest tent, furnished with a low table and mats. Oil lamps cast flickering shadows against the tent walls. What looked like rolled-up maps were scattered on the floor and leaning against the walls. Il-sung motioned for me to sit at the table and sat across from me.

  Under thick brows, Kim Il-sung’s eyes were both intelligent and penetrating, as if he saw and understood everything around him. His short hair accentuated the squareness of his face. He held his shoulders straight, yet he looked relaxed. He was young—I guessed that he was in his late twenties. But from the way the other men submitted to him, he was clearly the leader.

  “Tell me about your parents,” he said.

  “They are from a village outside Sinuiju, sir,” I replied, avoiding his eyes. “They came to Manchuria over two years ago.”

  “And you are a Yi, if I heard correctly,” Il-sung said.

  “Yes, sir. My father is Seong-ki Yi. He is a carpenter.”

  Il-sung nodded. “Yes, I remember hearing about a carpenter named Yi and his wife who joined the resistance about that time.”

  I looked up. “Please, sir, tell me where they are. I have not seen them in years.”

  “Ah, yes. You have not seen them since you married Hisashi Saito, the son of the director-general,” Il-sung said flatly. “I learned about you from Byong-woo’s reports.”

  My shoulders sagged. I had grown weary of telling everyone that they forced me to marry Hisashi, but that I loved him nonetheless. It didn’t seem to matter to anyone, and it wouldn’t do any good to argue with this man.

  “Do you have any other relatives?” Il-sung asked. “A brother or a sister?”

  “I have an older brother,” I answered. “His name is Kwan-so. He is studying at the school in Pyongyang.”

  “The Japanese school. A Korean attending that school is a chinilpa. Does your brother support the Japanese occupation of our country?”

  “I do not know, sir,” I answered.

  “Well, Suk-bo,” Il-sung said, “I have my doubts about you, who would marry a Japanese man instead of fighting them with your parents. We will give you an opportunity to prove you are not a chinilpa like your brother. We are a unit of the Anti-Japanese United Army. Along with the Chinese, we conduct raids on Imperial Army outposts. Someday, we will drive the Japanese dogs from our homeland. I expect you to help. For now, fetch water and do what Ki-soo tells you. Eventually, you will learn how to fight.

  “As for your parents . . .” His voice softened. “There was a carpenter Yi with a unit not far from here. The Japanese overran them six months ago. Most were killed. Some were captured. No one escaped. I cannot say what happened to your parents—if they were killed or if they were captured.”

  Il-sung regarded me for a while. I looked at my hands and hoped my parents were with those who’d been captured and not killed.

  Il-sung waited for me to say something. Finally, he motioned to the guard at the door. “Take Suk-bo to the women’s quarters,” he said. “She can rest for today, but tomorrow, she must put in a full day’s work.”

  He turned to me. “That is all.”

  A stick hut with a green canvas tarp covering the roof served as the women’s quarters. Cast-iron kettles, pots, and s
traw baskets sat alongside a firepit, and I watched a woman not much older than me start a fire with sticks and grass. She eyed me warily as the soldier led me to the hut.

  “This is where you will live,” the soldier said, pointing at the hut door with his rifle. “You have everything you need here.” He nodded at the woman at the firepit. “This is Ki-soo. She will teach you what you need to know.”

  The soldier turned on his heel and marched away. I stuck my head inside the hut. The musky smell of unwashed people invaded my nose. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw a woman lying on a mat. She opened her eyes to look at me and then rolled over. I couldn’t tell if she was sick or just resting.

  I pulled out of the hut and looked around. The morning sun made everything bright. Inside the compound, people brushed the horses and others worked on the trucks. A group of men sat in a circle, cleaning rifles. Women lugged toks, balancing the tall clay pots on their shoulders as they walked. I saw Byong-woo heading to Il-sung’s tent accompanied by a soldier. He saw me and our eyes met for a split second. His look reminded me that I needed to be careful about what I said and did here.

  The woman named Ki-soo had the fire going. The grass crackled and curled in the flames. She poured water in a kettle and hung it on a spit over the fire.

  “How can I help?” I asked. I was determined to survive my time here with the rebels. I was determined to get back to Young-chul someday.

  “We heard that a woman was coming,” she replied without looking up. “What is your name?”

  “I am Suk-bo,” I answered.

  “You are the one who was married to a Japanese man?”

  “Yes, I was,” I replied with a little too much force. “But I am here now and I would like to help. Now tell me please, what can I do?”

  Ki-soo smiled to herself. As she lifted the lid of a basket and measured out some rice, she said, “I was told you will rest today. Take a mat inside the hut. When you are rested, there will be more than enough for you to do.”

  I went inside the hut and lay on a mat away from the other woman who, this time, didn’t open her eyes. I stuffed a blanket under my head, but it was stiff and coarse and scratched my face. It also stunk, so I pushed it aside. I closed my eyes and tried to picture my parents’ faces. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I had last seen them at my wedding. The images of them were fading from me. I remembered my father’s strong hands, but I couldn’t remember the details of his face. I remembered that my mother was small but strong, but I couldn’t picture her eyes. I missed them so much. I prayed they were still alive.

  I thought of my brother. My aunt and Byong-woo had said he was a chinilpa, but I didn’t see how the young man I’d looked up to all my life could have changed so much. I hadn’t seen him for years and I missed him. I wanted to see for sure if it was true what they said about him. I would try to find him someday.

  I thought about Hisashi and Young-chul, but I had to quickly push those thoughts away. If I was to see them again—if I was to hug my son and lie with my husband and feel his breath against my neck—I would have to endure being here with Kim Il-sung and the rebels. I could see that it was going to take all my strength. I would need to be careful, as Byong-woo had said. But I was going to do it for Young-chul and Hisashi. So I cleared my mind and let sleep take me away.

  I awoke while it was still light outside. The woman who’d been in the hut with me was gone and I was alone. I rubbed my eyes and pushed myself off the mat. I was still tired and needed more sleep, but I was determined to survive. I went outside. The sun was at its early afternoon angle, turning everything a harsh yellow and forcing me to squint. A lazy lethargy had replaced the bustle of the morning. People lay in the shade of tents and trees while horses munched grain and swished their tails.

  I went to a group of women that included Ki-soo. “Are you rested already?” she asked as the others inspected me. I could see contempt in their eyes.

  “Yes,” I said. “I am ready to help.”

  “Good,” she said. “You have been assigned to water detail with Young-ee. Later, you will help fetch water.”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Is that all I will do?”

  Several of the women laughed without covering their mouths. Ki-soo grinned. “Yes,” she said, “that is all you will do today.”

  I sat in the shade with the other women. Young-ee introduced herself. “I am from Pyongyang,” she said. “My father was a Christian minister there. We had to run away when the Japanese started to persecute Christians.”

  I guessed that Young-ee was about my age. She was my height, but thick boned. And where I was light skinned and soft from living with the Saitos, she was dark from years in the sun. Her hair that she had braided in a tail was stiff and dull. Her eyes flitted from side to side as she talked.

  “How long have you been here?” I asked.

  “Four years.”

  “Are your parents here?”

  She shook her head and looked around as if someone was watching her. “No. They were killed.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “It is okay,” she said with an out-of-place smile. “I have everything I need here. You do, too. You will see.”

  Her odd smile stayed in place, but her eyes moved about. She leaned in to whisper to me. “I shouldn’t be friends with you because you married a Japanese man. But we can be friends when we are alone.”

  “Yes,” I said. “We can be friends.” Young-ee nodded and then stopped talking to me.

  None of the other women introduced themselves. They talked very little as if they knew they shouldn’t expend energy. Then, when the sun dropped, the women began to stir. One by one, they headed off in different directions.

  Ki-soo came to me. “Go with Young-ee to fetch water. She will show you what to do.”

  We collected four toks from a storage tent and put one on each shoulder. I followed Young-ee out of the compound and along a dry riverbed. As we carried the clay pots, Young-ee shared gossip about the others.

  “You have to watch out for Ki-soo,” she said. “She is young, but Commissar Kim favors her. They say she is a good shot with a rifle. They say she has killed a Japanese. She will hit you if you do not do your job. You will see.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “The other women are not so bad. Jeon-suk is lazy. She always says she is sick, but I think she is just pretending to get out of work.”

  “What about the men?”

  “You must be wary of them,” Young-ee said, walking fast. “My advice for you is to join up with one. That one you came with looks nice. Stay away from Jin-mo. He and Ki-soo are sweet on each other.”

  “Which one is Jin-mo?”

  “He is the handsome one.”

  “Thank you for your advice,” I said, “but I cannot be with a man. I am married.”

  “Some of the other women are married, too. But that does not matter here. You need a man or all the men will be after you. You will see.”

  “Do you have a man?”

  “No,” Young-ee replied faintly.

  I wanted to ask how far we had to go for the water, but I decided I would find out soon enough. I asked, “Why do you call Il-sung ‘commissar’?”

  “It is a communist title. Commissar Kim is a communist. He expects all of us to be communists, too. After you have been here a while, he will talk to you about it.”

  “I do not know anything about communism,” I said. “Are you a communist?”

  “I am what Commissar Kim wants me to be. You will be, too. You will see.”

  We came around a knoll and saw an area in the distance with tall trees and green grass. Young-ee set her toks on the ground and crouched behind a rock. I put my toks down, too, and crouched next to her.

  “That is where we get the water. It is a spring. We must be sure no one is there before we go in.”

  We watched together until Young-ee was satisfied. We lifted the toks again and hurried to the spring. Green trees and bushes surround
ed a small pond. Young-ee slowly approached the pond, looking to her left and right as I followed. “You have to watch out for mamushi,” she said. “I hate snakes. And mamushi are poisonous.”

  When we got to the pond’s edge, Young-ee slapped her hand on the water, making a loud splash. “I do this to scare the mamushi away,” she explained. When Young-ee was sure no poisonous snakes were in the pond, we filled our toks with water. Young-ee expertly lifted the heavy toks to her shoulders, but I struggled, almost dropping one. When I had them both on my shoulders and was supporting them with my hands, we headed back. The toks were very heavy and they pushed into my shoulders, making my back ache. We hadn’t gone halfway to camp when my arms grew tired and I was afraid I would drop the pots.

  “I need to rest,” I said.

  Young-ee didn’t stop walking. “We cannot,” she said. “It is unsafe out here.”

  “Why don’t they use the horses or one of the trucks to fetch the water?”

  “They make too much noise,” Young-ee answered. “Anyway, they need to rest the horses and save fuel for the trucks.”

  We were within sight of the camp when I could no longer feel my arms, and the pain in my shoulders was so sharp, I could not go on. I took the toks from my shoulders and dropped one, spilling the water. Young-ee looked at me in horror, still balancing the toks on her shoulders.

  “We do not have time to rest!” she cried. “And you spilled the water. Now we will have to make five trips instead of four. Come, quickly!”

  “Five trips?” I said, rubbing my shoulders.

  “Yes,” Young-ee replied. “Come now, quickly. We have to finish before it is dark.”

  Young-ee watched as I struggled to get the toks onto my shoulders again. “Do not worry,” she said as we started walking again. “You will get used to it. You will see.”

  Young-ee was wrong—I never did get used to it. Every day we fetched water from the spring—four morning trips and four at night. Each trip took an hour. On hot summer days when the men and horses needed more water, Ki-soo made us go for more. Between the morning and evening trips, we relaxed in the shade or napped in the hut. I could never get enough to eat, and I lost weight. My shoulders and back ached constantly. My skin turned dark, and my hair became stiff and wiry like Young-ee’s. I knew life with the rebels would be hard, but I never dreamed it would be like this. Perhaps I could run away and find my brother in Pyongyang. But I was in territory controlled by the Imperial Army, a long way from Pyongyang. If they caught me, they might kill me or send me to prison. And I didn’t even know which direction to go.