I did little else than fetch water every day, rest during the breaks, and sleep at night. Though it looked bad for her to be my friend, Young-ee never left my side because no one else would listen to her chatter. She talked constantly about this or that. She gossiped about which man was trying to be with which woman. She told me about her parents and about Christianity. She said she believed that Jesus had been a great prophet. She said she had memorized many passages from the Bible and she often recited them aloud. She told me that Commissar Kim had been a Christian once, but he had rejected Christianity when he became a communist. I didn’t mind her talking. Listening to her kept my mind off Young-chul and Hisashi.
When winter came, one wool blanket was not enough to keep us warm inside our stick hut, so the women pushed our mats together and combined our blankets to make one big one. We slept close so our bodies warmed each other. Ki-soo and several other women didn’t sleep in the women’s hut, instead going off at night to be with their men. Jeon-suk cried herself to sleep nearly every night. The other women never tried to comfort her.
Time moved slowly in the rebel camp. Every month or so, the men went on a raid, taking them out of camp for days or weeks at a time, while the women stayed back, gathering food and doing their daily chores. I stuck to the routine of fetching water with Young-ee in the morning and evening. Every day, I thought of Hisashi and Young-chul.
One summer morning after I’d been in camp over a year, the man named Jin-mo came on a horse, galloping into the compound. He stopped at Commissar Kim’s tent and said something to the guard at the door. The guard ducked inside the tent as Jin-mo galloped away. The guard came out and ran to talk to the men. Then, everyone started scrambling about.
Ki-soo ran over to one of the men to find out what was going on. “We have to move,” she said when she returned. “The Japanese are near. The men are planning a raid and it is not safe here.”
The women sprang into action. Young-ee took my hand and led me to the horses. “We need to get a lot of water. We can use the horses.”
“But I thought it was too dangerous to use the horses,” I said, running with her.
“The danger of staying here is greater,” she said. “Quickly, quickly!”
We took two horses, and Young-ee got slings. We cinched the slings on the horses, hung six empty toks on each one, then led them to the spring. When we got to the knoll, Young-ee went ahead as I held the horses. She came back after a few minutes and declared it was safe, so we led the horses to the pond.
Young-ee had just dipped a tok into the water when from within the grass, a mamushi snake uncoiled and struck her arm, sinking its fangs deep into her flesh. Then it quickly slithered away. Young-ee dropped the tok and screamed. She gripped her arm. The horses started, so I grabbed the leads. They reared and snorted, but I held firm. Young-ee looked at me wide-eyed. “I have been bitten! I have to get back!”
She started to run. “Wait!” I said. “We have to get the water.” Young-ee kept running toward camp. I looked at the horses, still carrying the empty toks. I untied the toks and took them to the pond. I slapped the pond to scare away the mamushi, then kneeled at the pond’s edge. As quickly as I could, I filled each tok and tied it onto the horses. I grabbed the horses’ leads and hurried to camp.
I caught up to Young-ee halfway to camp. She was stumbling about and looked confused. “Which way do I go?” she cried.
Her arm was swelling and her eyes swam. A streak of blood dripped from the bite in her arm. I dropped the leads and went to her. “I’ll take you,” I said. “Get on my back.” I crouched and lifted Young-ee onto me. On my back, she was not much heavier than the toks that I carried every day. But the load was awkward and Young-ee couldn’t hang on. She moaned and rolled her head. “I am going to die,” she sobbed. “I do not want to die.”
“You will not die,” I said, hiking her body higher. “Hang on as best as you can.” I grabbed the horses’ leads and ran as quickly as I could all the way to camp, carrying Young-ee on my back.
Byong-woo saw me first. He was with other men loading a truck with tents and supplies when he spotted me struggling with Young-ee, who had stopped moaning and was limp on my back. He ran to us. “What happened?” he asked, taking Young-ee.
“She was bitten by a mamushi!”
“Take the horses to Ki-soo and tell her what happened,” he said. “Have her bring Chun-ja with her medicines.”
I led the horses to Ki-soo, who was helping other women load cookware into a wooden cart. “Young-ee has been bitten by a mamushi!” I shouted as I approached. “She needs Chun-ja with her medicines!”
Ki-soo told one of the other women to get the medicine woman and told another to take the horses. “Where is she?” Ki-soo asked.
“Byong-woo has her over by the trucks.”
I followed Ki-soo as she ran to Byong-woo. He had Young-ee on the ground on her back. Young-ee’s arm was swollen to twice its normal size and as purple as a plum. Byong-woo sliced into the wound with his knife.
“How long ago was she bitten?” he asked me.
“I do not know, exactly,” I answered. “Maybe a half hour. I had to get the water first. I came as quickly as I could.” I put my hands to my chest. I was worried that I’d made a mistake for getting the water instead of helping Young-ee.
Byong-woo stopped cutting the wound and stuck his knife into the ground. He leaned on his knees. “It is too late to suck out the venom,” he said. “Chun-ja is her only hope.”
Then, from across the compound, Commissar Kim strolled toward us. As he walked, he examined the scene in front of him. When he saw the commissar, Byong-woo grabbed his knife and stood. We all stared as Il-sung approached. When he got to us, he looked down at Young-ee. “What happened?” he asked.
“She was bitten by a mamushi,” Byong-woo answered.
“Were you able to suck out the venom?” Il-sung asked, still staring at Young-ee.
“No. It is too late,” Byong-woo said. “She was bitten a half hour ago. Suk-bo stayed to get the water. Chun-ja might have potions and we can—”
“Suk-bo did the right thing to get the water,” Il-sung said. He looked at Byong-woo. “Leave her. We do not have time.”
“Yes, Commissar,” Byong-woo said with a nod. He sheathed his knife and walked away, leaving Young-ee lying on the ground. Ki-soo walked away, too. Il-sung started back to where he’d come from.
“Wait!” I shouted. “We cannot just let her die!”
As I stared at their backs, they continued to walk away. I ran to Il-sung. “Commissar Kim,” I cried, grabbing his sleeve, “we must try to save her! Please!”
Il-sung did not stop. “Go and help with the water,” he said.
“But sir,” I pleaded, still holding his sleeve, “Chun-ja has medicines!”
He continued walking and looked at me as he did. His face was expressionless. “Young-ee is dead. If we take the time to try to save her, we might all die.” He stopped and pulled my hand from his arm. “Now go to the water. We need it for our escape.”
I stood in the compound, looking at Il-sung’s back as he walked away. He went to a group of men, one of whom held a map. Il-sung leaned over the map, pointing at it and talking to the men.
I looked at Young-ee, unconscious on the ground. I couldn’t believe they were letting her die. I looked around the compound. The men and women of the rebel camp went on with their tasks and didn’t seem to notice my friend Young-ee dying in front of them.
TWENTY-ONE
It took us an hour to break camp. Ki-soo assigned Jeon-suk to help with the water horses. Each of us took a lead and we went northeast with the rest of the rebels. There were sixty of us in all. Commissar Kim rode a horse along with Jin-mo and two other men. Byong-woo drove one of the trucks—a run-down army truck loaded to the springs with diesel fuel, tents, and supplies. The other truck was a three-wheeler with handlebars like on a motorcycle, the engine behind the driver, and a cargo area behind that. It carried rif
les and ammunition. Four men walked in front of the truck, clearing away boulders and branches. The rest of us walked on foot behind.
The company moved quickly over a hill, down a valley, and across a grassy plain. It was cloudy, but it didn’t look like it would rain. The clouds kept the heat away, and soon we were far from our camp. As I led my horse alongside Jeon-suk, all I thought about was Young-ee dying in the dust behind us. We didn’t even take her with us so we could bury her.
By midafternoon, the grassy plain fell away into a valley and we stopped. Jeon-suk and I brought water to the men and horses and watched as Commissar Kim gathered his lieutenants to study a map. Commissar Kim nodded when Jin-mo pointed to a line of trees down the valley.
“We are not far from where we will make camp,” Jin-mo said when he came to us. “It is in that valley. We will need the truck, so you will have to haul the supplies by hand. The men will be away for several days. We will leave a few men to guard the camp.” Jin-mo went to the group of lieutenants who were studying yet another map. Byong-woo and two other men unloaded his truck, putting the tents and supplies in a pile. Those of us staying behind began to assemble the supplies into packs.
Byong-woo came to me. “We need the water horses and the remaining water. Put the toks in the truck.”
“What will we do for water?” I asked.
“You will be near a river,” he said. He hesitated as if he wanted to say something. Then he finally said, “Take care, Suk-bo. I will return soon.”
Jeon-suk and I hauled the toks to Byong-woo’s truck. Two men took the water horses and put saddles on them. About a dozen men climbed into the truck. Four others climbed into the back of the three-wheeler. Then, they took off.
Darkness had fallen by the time the rest of us had hauled the tents, supplies, and water to the new camp in a low woodland with aspen and tamarack trees. We were mostly women—fifteen in all. But some men were with us—one who had lost an arm, three who were too old to fight, and two able-bodied men who had stayed behind to guard the camp. We set up two tents, and after a quick meal of millet porridge and tea, the women crawled under blankets and went to sleep.
The next morning, our water supply was low, so I roused Jeon-suk from under the blanket and we gathered the toks. I wasn’t sure where we could get water, so I asked one of the elderly men named Won-ho. “We are close to the Mudan River,” he said. He pointed the direction I should go. “Be careful that no one is there.”
I turned to leave. “Wait,” he said. He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a pistol. “Can I trust you with this?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I answered, looking at the pistol.
He handed it to me. “Put it in your waistband. Fire two shots if there is trouble.”
I’d never held a pistol before. It was heavier than I’d expected. I looked at it, then at Won-ho. He pointed at a small lever on the side. “That is the safety latch. Put it in the down position and pull the trigger to fire it. It is not hard.”
I nodded and put the pistol in my waistband. Jeon-suk and I shouldered our toks and started walking.
It was less than a half mile to the river. The Mudan was not nearly as wide as the Yalu, but it ran much faster over boulders and across sandbars. It was lined with aspen trees whose leaves quaked nervously. Jeon-suk and I hid behind bushes and scanned the river to see if we were alone. I kept a hand on the pistol. We didn’t see anyone, so we hurried to the river and filled our toks. I was afraid Jeon-suk would have trouble carrying the heavy toks to camp. She was younger than I was and she was frail. Yet she shouldered the toks as well as Young-ee had.
The others had not set up any more tents by the time we got back. “We do not know if we will stay here,” Ki-soo said. “There is no sense in making a full camp until the men return.”
Jeon-suk and I made one more trip for water, and then we had nothing more to store it in. I gave the pistol to Won-ho. “When the men come back,” he said, “you should learn how to use it.”
In the afternoon, one of the men came into camp with a deer he’d shot. Two women butchered it while others started a fire to smoke the meat. Won-ho and another man took nets to the river and caught fish that they cleaned and hung over the fire. That night, we each had a taste of venison and fish, though we saved most of it for when the men returned. I hadn’t had meat in many months, and though the venison was tough and the fish had bones, they were delicious. As it started to get dark, I led some women to the river where, after making sure we were alone, we stripped down, bathed ourselves, and washed our clothes. The river was cold and I could only bear it long enough to scrub the grime from my skin, dunk my head in, and run my fingers through my hair. I shivered as I dried myself, and yet I felt better than I had in weeks. I’d forgotten how good it felt to be clean.
The men did not return the next day or the next day after that. The hunter shot another deer and two rabbits. The fishermen caught more fish. The women gathered roots and plants from the forest. They found ginseng and leaves for tea. Soon, the food baskets were full.
On the fourth day at the new camp, the men returned. Jin-mo came into camp before the others, riding his horse. The horse’s tongue hung out, and its mouth foamed. We gathered around Jin-mo as he dismounted, and he handed the reins to one of the men. “It needs water, feed, and a rubdown,” Jin-mo said. He pointed to two other men. “You two come with me. We need help to get the truck through the forest.” Then he addressed the group. “The others will be here in two hours. They are tired and hungry. Get ready for them.” He hurried back from where he came, the two men following close behind.
Jeon-suk and I resupplied the water as the rest of the women prepared food and laid mats for the men. The fishermen caught more fish and put them on the cook fire so the fighting men could have fresh meat when they arrived.
Eventually, we heard the truck coming. The rumble grew louder, and soon, the truck, followed by the three-wheeler, appeared through the woods. In front of the truck, the two men from camp cleared away forest debris to make a path. Behind were the fighting men with Commissar Kim high on his horse. He held a rope tied to the neck of a man whose hands were bound together. The man slouched forward and stumbled as he walked. He wore a Japanese uniform.
We all rose to meet them. I stepped to the front of the group staring at the soldier. My heart beat fast as I thought it might be Hisashi. But as they came close, I saw that the soldier was shorter than Hisashi and had a round face. One of his eyes was swollen shut.
The trucks stopped at the edge of camp. Byong-woo got out from behind the wheel and looked around. When he saw me, he nodded and gave a slight smile. Il-sung dismounted and led the prisoner to the group. Up close, I saw the soldier’s good eye was wide with fear. He was barefoot and his feet were bloody.
We gathered in front of Commissar Kim. “We have had a great victory in our raid against the invaders,” he said without emotion. “Though two of our men were killed and another three were injured. But we killed many Japanese and we captured this dog.” He jerked the rope, making the soldier stumble. “We brought him here to interrogate him.”
He pointed at Chun-ja. “Chun-ja, get your medicines and do what you can for the injured men. They are in the truck. The rest of you, take care of the men and horses. Set up the rest of the camp. We will stay here for the winter.”
As Chun-ja and two other women hurried to the truck to tend to the injured men, Commissar Kim and Jin-mo took the soldier to a tree. They tied him to the trunk with a rope around his neck, forcing him to stand so that he wouldn’t choke. I helped the women feed the men and tried not to look at the soldier struggling to stay upright on his bloody feet.
As the men ate, the women set up the rest of the camp. They raised the tents and gathered branches to make huts. They spread blankets and mats. After the men had eaten, they crawled into tents to sleep. All except for Commissar Kim, Jin-mo, and Byong-woo, who went to the soldier, now slumped against the tree and pulling the rope tight around his
neck. I thought the soldier was dead, but when they untied him, he gasped and moaned. They dragged him into the woods.
Seeing the soldier stagger, cry, and plead for his life, I thought of Hisashi. He too was a Japanese soldier, an officer in a camp somewhere here in Manchuria. He might be close to where we were. Perhaps he was with the company that we’d just raided. Maybe he was one they’d killed.
As I watched them disappear into the forest with the prisoner, I wanted to stop them from what they were going to do. I wanted to explain to them that some Japanese were good people and that no one deserved to be tortured and killed. I wanted to tell them that I loved a Japanese man. But I knew it would do no good to plead for the man’s life. The raid had killed two of our own, and by the look on his face, Commissar Kim wanted revenge.
Now that the men were back, we would need a lot more water. I got Jeon-suk and we gathered the toks. I went to Won-ho, got his pistol, and tucked it into my waistband. Then, Jeon-suk and I headed to the river. Unlike Young-ee, Jeon-suk didn’t talk much. She’d always kept to herself, sitting to the side when the women chatted before going to bed. So I was surprised when she came alongside me and started talking.
“Why are they torturing him?” she asked as we walked.
“They want information about the Japanese, I suppose,” I replied.
“But he is a private. He won’t know anything.”
The Spirit of the Dragon Page 17