by Ellen Oh
“Appa, Appa! Don’t leave me!”
Gunwoo’s head was pressed against his father’s blood-covered hands. Doha sat silent, his own hands clenched in tight fists as his friend wept wildly. He felt helpless and heartbroken but also so terribly guilty. For his first thought had been to thank the heavens it was not his own father. And for that, he could not forgive himself.
“I hate them! I hate them all!” Gunwoo lurched to his feet, screaming at the sky. “Communist bastards! I’ll kill them!”
Doha grabbed hold of his friend, desperately trying to calm him. It was a long and hard struggle, as Gunwoo raged in a terrible anger, lashing out violently against Doha until he fell against his friend, exhausted. Doha could do nothing but hold him tight.
“Eomoni! Where’s my Eomma? I want my Eomma!” Gunwoo sobbed.
As Doha blinked back his own tears, he realized they had not found Gunwoo’s mother. But where were they to look?
“Gunwoo, Doha.” A woman approached. Doha recognized her as someone who also worked in the administrative offices. She too had been beaten, her face bleeding and bruised. She was limping badly and there was lots of dried blood on the bare legs that showed beneath her skirt. In her hands, she held a small pad of paper and pencil.
“Gunwoo,” she repeated. “They took your mom to Doha’s father’s medical clinic. Go find her there. She was badly injured, but she’s alive.”
At her words, Gunwoo sat up in a rush.
“Eomoni is alive?” Hope and relief showed on his ravaged face. He went to stand up, but then stared down at his father. His grief contorted his face once again.
“But Appa,” he whispered. “I can’t leave him.”
“You have to,” she said. “They’re coming back to bury them. You can’t be here when they do. You have to leave him.”
Doha got up and was pulling Gunwoo to his feet.
“Ahjumma, you have to come too,” Doha said. “You need a doctor also.”
She nodded. “I will. I just need to finish writing down the names of who is here,” she whispered. “So we have a record of who they murdered.”
“Hurry, and come with us now,” Doha said. He was feeling nervous about the idea of leaving her. She was hesitating when they heard the approach of a truck and watched as the other women who were crying over the dead began to scatter.
Doha grabbed Gunwoo by the arm and pushed the woman away from the approaching truck.
“Appa,” Gunwoo cried out, but he didn’t fight Doha as they scrambled away.
By the time they reached the clinic, dusk had fallen. Due to the woman’s injuries, it would have taken more than five hours to return from Palbongsan but for the kind farmer who had given them a ride in his cart and dropped them off near town. Doha and Gunwoo walked the rest of the way, supporting the woman between them. When they finally arrived at the clinic, they collapsed in the crowded waiting room. Gunwoo rushed away, calling out for his mother, while the nurses half carried the injured woman to a chair and began to examine her.
Exhausted, Doha stumbled to the even more crowded exam room. His father gave Doha a worried look before turning his attention to his patient. On the other side of the room, Gunwoo had found his mother and was sobbing hysterically in her arms. Every cot was occupied with injured women and children, many on straw mats on the floor.
Dr. Han took a break and gently pushed Doha into his office.
“Yuni told me what happened, and I’m proud of you for helping your friend. But I was so worried about you.” Doha’s father hugged him tightly. “These are dangerous times, Doha. Please promise me you’ll be extra careful.”
“Abeoji, we found Gunwoo’s father,” Doha said, finally releasing the tears he’d been holding in as he sobbed at the horror of the death. His father held him and patted his back gently until he was all cried out.
“I was so afraid to go, but I didn’t want Gunwoo to be alone,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first.”
Dr. Han gently wiped away his son’s tears and smiled. “Doha-ya, you were right to go with your friend, even though you worried us. There are moments in life when a person must decide between what’s right and what’s safe. It is one of the most difficult decisions in life, and I would never be angry at you for choosing to do what’s safe. But I will always be proud of you for doing what’s right.”
Relieved by his father’s words, Doha sat down in exhaustion. “Will Gunwoo’s mother be okay?”
Dr. Han nodded. “It will take her a long time to heal, but she will survive. Now, I know you are tired, but I have another job for you.”
“Yes, Abeoji?”
“We don’t have enough room to take care of all the injured,” Doha’s dad said. “Doha, can you run over to Dr. Ma’s and ask for help?”
Doha swallowed back his tired complaint. Dr. Ma’s clinic was on the other side of town.
“But where are all these patients from?” he asked.
His father’s lips tightened grimly, and his eyes were serious. “These soldiers were trained to shoot first, ask questions later,” was all he said. “Stop home first and eat. Your mother and sister are there getting dinner. And then tell them to hurry back.”
With a gentle push, Dr. Han urged him out of the clinic. Doha ran straight home.
“Eomma, Noona, please hurry back to the clinic!” he yelled.
“Doha-ya!” His mother, sister, and grandmother all descended on him, pulling him into a crowd of arms and kisses and yelling.
“We were so worried about you!”
“You have to be more careful!”
“My little puppy is home safe, and that’s all that matters,” Halmoni said with a big hug.
As they sat him down at the table to eat dinner, Doha yanked at his mother’s skirt.
“Eomma, I have to go to Dr. Ma’s clinic to ask for help, but can you please take extra care of Gunwoo for me? His father is dead. We saw him.”
Doha swiped at his tears with the back of his hand.
His mother hugged him tight. “That’s no sight for such young boys,” she said in sorrow. “Will you be all right?”
Doha nodded. “I have to go after I eat, but please take care of Gunwoo for me.”
Avoiding his mother’s sympathetic eyes, Doha finished eating quickly and raced out of their courtyard and ran for the main road. The middle of town was still empty of villagers but full of North Korean soldiers patrolling the area. Doha slowed down and tried to avoid their attention. He cringed when he saw them pull a local shopkeeper out of his house and beat him. It made him run faster, with anger, misery, and guilt tearing at him. It took him thirty minutes to reach the other clinic. The building was a lot bigger than his father’s. He quickly relayed his father’s message and watched as the doctor and staff began to bustle about. A nurse brought Doha a cup of hot corn tea that he blew on and drank as quickly as possible. Pretty soon, a male staff member motioned him to come out. In front of the clinic, Dr. Ma had pulled around his old truck. It made a lot of noise, but it would get them back in ten minutes tops. Inside the cab of the truck, the engine was too loud for conversation. This suited Doha just fine.
On the way through town, a group of North Korean soldiers stopped them and ordered them out of the truck.
Doha trembled with fear as Dr. Ma explained where they were going. After a few minutes, the soldiers waved them on. Doha wondered if they might have been the ones who’d killed Gunwoo’s father and all the rest of the people in the mountain valley.
Doha clasped his shaking hands tightly, still badly frightened and angered by the encounter. The soldiers were no more than violent, cruel bullies.
“Dirty Communists,” Dr. Ma muttered as he started the truck.
Doha couldn’t help but agree with Dr. Ma.
Junie
I have to grab a box of tissues to wipe my tears and blow my nose. I can’t even imagine seeing something so terrible.
“Grandpa, that must have been so horrible for you,” I sa
y. “Is that part of your trauma?”
He nods bleakly. “Sometimes I still see Gunwoo’s father in my dreams.”
ALMOST TWO MONTHS HAD PASSED since the North Koreans had taken over Seosan. It was a difficult time. Food was scarce because the soldiers had commandeered the supply house and were now rationing food out to all the villagers. The hardest hit were the families of those killed by the Communists.
Gunwoo and his mother had been unable to leave Seosan due to her long recovery from severe leg injuries. To help them, Doha’s father hired Gunwoo’s mom to clean and take care of the clinic. Meanwhile, Gunwoo would go out to the farms to help make money.
Life in Seosan had changed drastically. Minki’s family moved south after Mija’s death. And Kitae’s family left for Busan as soon as the KPA took over. With enemy soldiers patrolling the streets, Doha’s mother kept him close to home. No more catching frogs with his friends. No more wandering around town at all times of the day and night. This new life was one of constant fear. Instead, he spent all his days helping out at the clinic with the rest of his family. Even his grandmother would come for a few hours every day.
For Doha, his greatest worry was for his father. With the loss of the town leadership, most of the villagers brought their troubles to Dr. Han. And there were more patients than ever in his clinic. The KPA were living up to their reputation as a brutal occupation force. Every day, new patients would come in after being savagely beaten by North Korean soldiers. The KPA took what they wanted, when they wanted, without regard for who they were taking from. The only happy people were the Communist sympathizers who’d been released from the prisons when the KPA arrived. They were the ones who wore red armbands proudly and would lead weekly Communist propaganda events, which they called educational. To entice people to come to them, they offered up bags of rice if you signed up. Once, Doha’s mom mentioned that she wanted to go get a bag of rice to give to Gunwoo’s mom, but his dad sharply declined.
“No, it’s not safe. Remember, nothing in life is free,” Doha’s dad said. “There is always a price. And when you don’t know what it is up front, then you must be prepared for it to be too heavy a burden when they come for you.”
Dr. Han was very wise. But for someone who did not believe in taking anything from anyone else, he was generous to a fault. He helped all who needed his help or asked for his time. It was why he was always tired.
“Yeobo, you must stop them from coming every night!” Doha heard his mother yelling at his father one night. Doha had stayed up very late watching the line of people waiting to talk to his father. He found it fascinating and disturbing to eavesdrop and hear their stories.
“You’re busy enough with all your patients—they can’t expect you to solve all their problems too! And I’m scared they will bring more attention to us!”
Doha couldn’t hear his father’s soft response, but he knew what he would say. When Doha had asked a similar question, his father had turned very serious. “My son, war is horrific and dehumanizing. It numbs us to suffering, pain, and death. Therefore, it requires average citizens to take extraordinary measures. For if we don’t do what we can to minimize the suffering of others, we will lose our humanity.”
His father’s words had affected Doha deeply and he realized this was something his entire family believed in and was a motto they lived by. Even before the war, his father’s kindness was well known throughout the county. Poor farmers who gave sacks of potatoes or corn for treatment or medicine. Widows who would wash the clinic’s bedding and linens in lieu of payment.
His grandmother would pack small packages of food for Doha and Yuni to deliver to the elderly. When Yuni was not helping at the clinic, she was helping to care for the children of the women who had to work. And his mother made sure to share all their food with the clinic staff and anyone who was in need. She constantly reminded the family how lucky they were because Dr. Han was so well-respected in the community. They were one of the few families that still had daily white rice, but just like everyone else, Doha’s mother mixed it with barley, millet, and beans to make it last longer. Doha missed eating plain white rice, but he knew of so many who had so much less. He had learned to be grateful for what they had.
The thing he missed the most was his friends. School had not opened after summer vacation. He couldn’t see Sunjin because he was not allowed to go to town, and Gunwoo was always busy.
But then one day, every single one of the North Korean soldiers were gone. They had all disappeared in the middle of the night. One day they were everywhere, policing everyone, indoctrinating the villagers on Communism. And the next day they were all gone.
It became obvious what had happened when, a few days later, the Republic of Korea Army arrived back in town. They came with dozens of badly wounded soldiers, and once again the medical clinic was over capacity. There were so many injured that they had to send half of them over to Dr. Ma’s clinic. But the worst cases stayed under Dr. Han’s care, too injured to be moved any farther. There were fifty soldiers, taking up every inch of space on both floors of the clinic. The whole family was forced to help out with all the patients. Doha was tasked with running errands and bringing water and food to the patients on the second floor. Normally, the second floor housed twenty patients that needed long-term care on straw mats covered with blankets. Now the room was crowded with soldiers, and the smell of infection was made worse by the continuing heat wave.
After a long morning at the clinic, Doha was relieved by a nurse who came in for the afternoon shift. Doha immediately ran outside and took a deep breath. It was such a relief to breathe the fresh air without the smells of alcohol, peroxide, and sickness.
“Doha, why don’t you go play with your friends?” his mother said. “You’ve been working hard. Go take the afternoon off.”
“Thank you, Eomma!” With a happy wave, Doha took off before anyone else could stop him. It had been so busy in the clinic that Doha had no idea what was happening in town.
His first thought was to go to Sunjin’s house. Now that the ROKA was in town, what would happen to the North Korean collaborators? A vision of Gunwoo’s father dead among so many bodies flashed through Doha’s mind. He shook his head. No, the ROKA wouldn’t do that. Only North Koreans are that evil.
But the thought was troubling, and Doha began to worry. The ten-minute run felt incredibly long with his anxiety. When he reached town, he was shocked to see Gunwoo crossing the main road with a group of ROKA soldiers.
Doha called out his name, but Gunwoo was too far away to hear him. A horrible feeling struck Doha deep in his gut. It couldn’t be what he was thinking. Gunwoo wouldn’t do that. But why was he walking toward Sunjin’s house? Why was he leading a group of soldiers there?
“No, Gunwoo, don’t do it! Gunwoo!”
Doha was breathing hard, trying desperately to reach the group that was now stopped in front of Sunjin’s house. Angry shouts filled the air, and then he saw a frightened Sunjin and his mother step out into the street. The ROKA soldiers were pointing their rifles at them. As Doha arrived, he could hear Sunjin’s mom apologizing and asking for mercy.
“Gunwoo! What are you doing?” Doha shouted as he grabbed his friend hard by the arm.
Gunwoo flung Doha away and turned back to continue glaring at Sunjin and his mother. “I’m exposing the Red traitors.”
Doha looked at the ROKA soldiers’ faces. They were cold and hard. One of them moved forward to tie rope around Sunjin’s mother’s hands. Doha could now see the terror on his friend’s face.
“But Sunjin’s our friend!” Doha shouted.
“He’s no friend of mine! He’s the reason my father’s dead and my mother is disabled for life! He chose to be a Communist traitor. He’s no friend.”
“Sunjin didn’t do that! The Reds did it!”
“He helped them! They both did!” Gunwoo yelled. “They killed my father.”
“Gunwoo, you know we didn’t have a choice,” Sunjin said quietly. “Th
ey took my brother and forced us to support them. We did what they told us to do in order to survive. We’re not traitors.”
“Shut up! Shut up! Don’t listen to him! They entertained the Reds in their house. They’re traitors!”
Sunjin’s mom began crying, pleading for them to at least save her son.
“Doha, please help us!” Sunjin begged.
The soldiers tied Sunjin’s hands. Doha rushed forward and pushed his hands up, asking them to stop.
“Leave them alone! They’re not Communist sympathizers! They were forced to do it!”
A soldier slammed a rifle butt into Doha’s abdomen. He fell to the ground, his breath completely knocked away. The soldier stood over him in a threatening manner.
“Are you one of them?”
Gunwoo stepped between the soldier and Doha. “No, he’s not! He’s Dr. Han’s son. The doctor who’s taking care of all the wounded soldiers.”
The soldier stepped back, but his face was stern. “He needs to stay out of official business.”
The soldiers led Sunjin and his mother away, pulling roughly on the ropes that tied them together.
Sunjin looked back in tears, calling Doha’s name.
“Doha, please help us! Please ask your father to help us! Please, Doha! Tell them we had no choice! Tell them we’re not collaborators! Doha!”
The soldier leading them turned back and backhanded Sunjin across the face. Sunjin fell against his mother, who tried to hold him up with her bound hands.
“You had a choice!” the soldier yelled. “You should have died rather than help those filthy Communist pigs!”