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A NOVEL

The Martyted

By

Richard E. Kim

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THE WAR CAME early one morning in June of 1950, and by the time the North Koreans occupied

our capital city, Seoul, we had already left our uni-

versity, where we were instructors in the History of

Human Civilization. I joined the Korean Army, and

Park volunteered for the Marine Corps—^the proud combat outfit that suited his temperament. In a short

time—^because junior cheers died very fast in the early phase erf the war—^we were trained and battle- tested, and we both became officers. We survived, but we were both wounded. The shrapnel of a mortar

shell had grazed my right knee during the defense of

Taegu, and a sniper had shot Park in his left arm in

the mopping-up opoation in Seoul after the Inchon

landing. We both spent some time in the hospital, were both promised medals, and were returned

promptly to our respective duties.

11

12

Park, who was then a first lieutenant, went back

to combat duty somewhere on the eastern front, but

I did not rejoin my antitank company. Someone in

the Army accidentally discovered that I had been a

university instructor and decided to transfer me to an

intelligence unit. When I came out of the hospital in

Pusan, I was sent to Seoul, where I was put in charge

of a section in the Army PoUtical Intelligence, and

was made captain, temporarily, in due conformity with

the table of organization.

In the second week of October, the United Nations

Forces captured Pyongyang, the capital city of the

North Koreans. We moved our headquarters to that city and estabhshed ourselves in a four-storied gray

marble building. My oflBce, which was on the third floor, looked across the street at what remained of

the Central Presbyterian Church. This was a strange

coincidence. It was Park's father's church; he had

been its minister for nearly twenty years.

I knew very little about him; although Park was a

close friend of mine, he had seldom talked to me

about his father. Which was to be expected. His father

had disowned him and, in turn. Park had denounced

his father. Mr. Park was, according to his disowned

son, "a man of fanatical faith," who had "harassed"

him "day and night with his self-righteousness, with

his exaggerated faith, and his obsession with his

13

equally obsessive God." On the other hand, Park had

become an atheist after his return from a university

in Tokyo, and abandoned the Christian faith in which

he had been brought up. I suspected that he would

not have denounced his father had not Mr. Park told

his congregation, one Sunday morning from his pulpit,

that his son had gone over to the Devil and that he

had asked the Lord His forgiveness for severing all

earthly ties with his son. That was about ten years

before the war.

Park was aware that his father was missing from

Pyongyang; I had informed him of the disturbing news

soon after I moved to the city, and I had done so in

an unsettled frame of mind. I had come to Pyongyang

in a good mood; for the first few weeks I was in a state

of buoyancy, partly because of the exciting novelty

of finding myself in an enemy city that our victorious

army occupied, and partly because of the irresistible

enthusiasm and affection with which the people of the

city greeted all of us, their liberators. Many of my

fellow officers were natives of Pyongyang and, in the

midst of that delightful emotional chaos following

the liberation, they were able to stage melodramatic yet

heartwarming scenes of reunion with their families,

relatives, and friends, or for that matter, with anyone

whose face they recognized.

I had no acquaintances in the city, and som.etimes

14

I felt vaguely envious of these oflBcers. It was at such

times that I felt an urge to go to see Park's father,

though I told myself I had not the slight6st excuse for

doing so. I thought of many reasonable ways in which

I might call on him, yet when I imagined myself actu-

ally knocking on the door of his home and introducing

myself as a good friend of his son's, I could not help

feeling a pecuUar sort of fright. Then I found out that

the Communist secret poUce had arrested him shortly

before the war; and when Army Intelligence let it be

known officially that "an unspecified number of North

Korean Christian ministers" was reported missing and

that the Army "beUeved them to have been kidnapped

by the Reds," I even felt relieved—shamefacedly, of course. So I wrote to Park about it at great length,

but his reply contained nothing but irrelevant matters

—just as I expected—things about his command, about his men, and even about his future plans, but

not a word about his father.

Across the street the church bell clanged. I opened

the window. From the white-blue November sky of

North Korea, a cold gust swept down the debris-ridden

slope, whipping up here and there dazzling snow

flurries, smashing against the ugly, bullet-riddled

buildings of Pyongyang. People who had been digging

in the ruins of their homes stopped working. They

15

straightened up and looked toward the top of the slope,

at the remains of the nearly demolished Central

Church, and then at the gray carcass of a cross-topped

bell tower where the bell was clanging. They gazed

at one another as though they understood the esoteric

message of the bell. Some old women knelt down on

the ground, and the old men removed their dogskin

hats and bowed their bare heads.

The beU was quiet now. The people were back at

their labor, working as silently and stubbornly as they

had day after day. Ever since I arrived in the city, I

had been watching these people. Occasionally, I saw

them drag out of the debris some shapeless remains of

their household goods or, sometimes, a dead body,

which they would quietly carry away on a hand-pushed

cart. Then they would continue digging in the crum-

bled mess of brick, boards, and chunks of concrete.

I closed the window and returned to my desk. The

potbellied, rusty, coal stove in the far comer of the

room gave off plenty of heat, but I shivered as I

settled down in my chair. It was as if a cold hand had stroked my nape as stealthily as the tip of a soft, soft

brush.

Park's father was dead; I had just learned of his

death from my commanding oflBcer.

1

l^l^^H^li^li^l^^l^li^l^l^;^ 2

COLONEL CHANG, the Chief of Army Political Intelligence, had summoned me to his oflBce on the

fourth floor. Seated in his swivel chair behind his desk

under a dusty chandeUer, he did not show any sign

of recognition when I stood before him. His subor-

dinates were accustomed to the way he kept them

waiting in his presence, sometimes for as long as five

minutes. He was a stout man in his late forties, with a

head as bald and shiny as a Buddhist monk's, and with

a bulbous nose that dominated his straw-colored small

face. He began rocking back and forth in his chair,

and peered at me through his glasses.

The junior ofiicers at headquarters were not in-

clined to take Colonel Chang too seriously, though

they admitted he was a baflaing character. Since it was

standard procedure in an intelligence unit not to keep

in the personnel file the record of its commanding

16

17

oflBcer, his past was obscure. Those who despised him

said he had been a sergeant in the Japanese Army

during the war in the Pacific; those who disliked him

said he had been a notorious soldier of fortune in

China; and those who did not care one way or the

other said he was just one of those professional mili-

tary men. No one seemed to know precisely how he

happened to be enjoying the rank of a full colonel in

such a young army as ours, though everyone assumed

he was longing for a star.

At last he motioned me to take a seat and, bringing

his swaying chair to a stop, said gravely, "I want you

to start an investigation of the missing ministers."

"I beg your pardon, sir?" I said, to cover my sur-

prise.

His thin lips curled. "You recall those Christian

ministers who were reported missing. We've had a

big break. Our CIC was able to round up a few Reds

who had something to do with the missing men." He

rummaged through the clutter of papers on his desk.

"They were all shot the day the war started."

"A mass execution!"

Casting me an indignant look, he said, raising his

voice, "I call it mass murder."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, there's a problem. The findings of the CIC

18

are conflicting. We are not so sure about the exact number murdered."

"Then they didn't shoot all of them."

"No, no, I am not saying that. However, one source

of information claims there were fourteen, the other

says twelve. Unfortunately, both sources of informa-

tion are no longer available. We seem to have an im- petuous CIC."

"You mean the prisoners were killed?"

Colonel Chang ignored my concern. "Now if we

are to assume there were fourteen ministers and all of

them were shot, and if we can't round up any other

sources of information, well then, it means there are

no witnesses. All we can say is that fourteen were

murdered."

"But, if I may say so, sir," I said, "we can't say they

were murdered, or how many. We can only say that an undetermined nurqbers of ministers disappeared."

"I am glad you said that, Captain. I knew you would

come around to it, and that's why I want you to work

on the problem. The Chief of Army Intelligence just

called to tell me that it belongs in the area of political

intelligence, and I can hardly disagree with him."

"You are suggesting that it may be good material

for propaganda," I said. "A grave case of religious

persecution by the Conmiunists. Of international sig-

nificance, if I may add, sir, particularly in America.

19

In short, we may be able to exhibit to the entire world

the Korean chapter in the history of Christian mar-

tyrdom."

"All right, all right. I am not suggesting anything,**

Colonel Chang said impatiently. "Now, let me return

to the problem. It's a simple matter of arithmetic. If

we assume there were originally fourteen ministers,

and if we take into account the claim that only twelve

were shot, then it is possible two have survived, is it

not?"

"Of course."

"As you know, it is impossible for us, at this early

stage, to check every single living Christian minister

in North Korea. But the curious thing is that there

are two in Pyongyang, right this minute, who were

imprisoned by the Reds. Actually they were still in

prison when we took the city. It is an interesting

coincidence, don't you think, however hypothetical it

may be?"

Something in his manner—perhaps it was the sud- den, quick gleam in his eyes, or the way he tilted his

bald head—impressed me that he knew more about the two ministers than he was willing to tell me.

"Well, what do you think of this possibility?" he

asked.

"Hypothetical, as you say, sir," I repUed.

He was pleased with my response. "Good. Now, I

20

want you to go and see these ministers. Shin and Hann,

and tell them about our problem. Be tactful about it,

because I don't want to create the impression that

I am handling Christians roughly. Christians in this

country are quite influential these days," he said with

a faint smile. Then, after a pause, he continued with

an undisguised tone of acidity. "Ever>'one seems to be

Christian nowadays; it seems fashionable to be one.

From the President to cabinet ministers, generals,

colonels, all the way down to privates. Why, even the

Army has to have Christian chaplains, just to please

the American advisors. Ah, well, you can see my dif-

ficult position."

"Yes, sir."

"I am not suggesting that these men had anything

to do with the murder, or that they were originally

included in the murder plan. Also, I have no intention

whatsoever of implying that I am suspicious of the

circumstances relating to their fortunate survival,

although it may be highly desirable for me to be so;

that is, from the point of view of an objective intelli-

gence analysis. Their fortunate survival, Captain Lee,

please note my word. Anyway, oflBcially speaking, I

am merely asking you to see them and inquire, yes,

inquire politely, if they would be kind enough to en-

lighten us concerning the exact number involved in

21

this mass murder; that is, if they know anything about

it at all, you understand?"

I felt confused, but I said, "Yes, I fully understand."

He seemed delighted. "Good. That's what I like

about you. Civihans seem to have a keener sensibiUty

in affairs of extreme deUcacy," he said, smiling. "Oh,

incidentally, one of them, Hann, I believe, is presum-

ably crazy."

"You mean—he is not well?" The colonel darted a sardonic glance at me. "For-

give my indeUcacy, Captain Lee," he said. Then he

stood up, grabbed a pad of paper from the desk, and

strode over to the window. "That is all," he fairly

shouted.

The church bell clanged.

Colonel Chang swore. "I can't stand that bell!

Clanking, clanking day and night! Intolerable!"

"Sir," I said, "the minister of that church . . ."

He cut me short. "He's dead."

^;^^l^;^^^^^^^;^l^ 3

I WAS WAITING for my driver to bring the jeep to the sentry box outside headquarters. Whenever a

whistling gust whipped past the box, spraying a sil-

very mist of pulverized snow, I could hear the bell

clanging, clanging over the slope, and I could visual-

ize Colonel Chang banging on his desk, swearing as

he glared out of the window. I asked the sentry to tell

my driver to wait for me, and walked toward the

church.

There had been an alley off the street between

houses and shops leading up the slope to the church.

Nothing was left standing now. Houses had been

smashed to bits in the bombardment, and their ruins

buried the alley; a wooden board that said Cameras,

soiled and cracked, hung lopsided from the remains

of a shattered shop. A trolley car crawled along the street, clanking, flashing cold, blue sparks. An Army

22

23

jeep drove past, its loudspeaker blaring out an unintel-

ligible message. Loose wires were lashing at a pros-

trated lamppost.

In the rubble, people were still digging, and when

I started up the slope, a few of them stopped working

and looked at me. An old man followed me, keeping

several paces behind, but when I came close to the

front of the church, he came abreast of me. We ex- changed perfunctory bows. He wore a black coat,

but he had no gloves, and he rubbed his hands to-

gether, blinking in the sun and in the wind that nifSed

his white hair.

The Central Church was rather small and was built

of red bricks. A flight of stone steps led up to two dirty marble columns, above which was the bell tower, with

a golden cross on its top. The exterior of the tower was

torn open and the black iron beU could be seen hang-

ing precariously inside, its rope swaying loosely in

the wind. Beyond the columns, two white doors, now

dusty and broken, stood wide open, one of them wob-

bling on its loose hinges as though it would collapse

at any moment. Through the open doors the interior

of the church was dimly visible. Either a bomb or an

artillery shell had blasted the middle section; the pews

had been tossed about, twisted and smashed, though

the altar had been left intact.

A shrieking wind swirled about us for a moment.

24

The bell clanged. I looked up at the tower and saw

the rope violently jerking, to and fro, up and down.

I turned to the old man, who shrugged his shoulders.

"What's the matter with the bell?" I asked him.

"The bell?" he muttered, squinting his blinking

eyes.

"Don't you have anyone to take care of it?"

"Why, I don't see anything wrong with the bell, do

you?" he said, rubbing his eyes. "Nobody touches it.

The wind comes and rings the bell."

"Why don't you church people do something about

it?"

"You can't get up there. The stairway is almost

gone, and it's too dangerous to use a ladder. The

tower may crumble at any moment."

"But I still think you ought to do something about

it."

"We're waiting," the old man mumbled. "We're all

waiting for our minister to come back to us. Any day

now, because we're wirming the war, they say. When

he comes back, maybe he can do something about the

church"—slowly he focused his bleary eyes on mine —"and maybe he can do something about the bell, too. Who knows?"

"You know what happened to him, don't you?" I

said.

"No, we don't," he said. "Yes, we do, but we aren't

25

sure, nobody is sure, what's happened to him. He was

taken away by the Communists some time before the

war broke out, and that's the last thing we've seen of

him. 'Don't worry,' we tell each other, 'he will come

back.' Any day now. Yes, any day now. He will come

back."

I hastily echoed his sentiments. "Yes, any day now."

I moved a few steps closer to the threshold of the

devastated church. It was then that I saw someone

inside. Though the pews were strewn about and the

debris from the broken roof was piled over them, the

rear white wall with its small, shattered stained-glass

window was still there beyond the altar. The left bal-

cony had fallen halfway down, and was hanging

loosely, almost touching the front edge of the altar.

It was there, directly beneath the twisted balcony,

that I saw the prostrate gray figure of a man, with his

bare hands stretched out over his head, clutching at

the edge of the barren altar. I looked at the old man

beside me, but he only shrugged his shoulders and

pointed a finger to his shaking head. "A madman,"

he whispered. "I don't know who he is."

"Well, you'd better tell him, I mean tell someone

to stop him from getting in there. He may kill himself."

"He comes around here once in a while," the old

man said. "I talked to him once. He just stared at me

—you know the way they look at you—almost fright-

26

ened me. You know what he said? *I come here to

pray.* That's what he said. Well, he didn't sound like

a madman to me. So I let him do whatever he pleased.*'

Then, suddenly, the man came out of the church,

saw us standing there, and leaped back inside, turning

to peer at us suspiciously through the doorway. I

stepped forward. The old man grabbed my ann,

whispering, "No, no." But I could not restrain myself

from shouting, "Listen! You'd better come out of

there. It's dangerous. You may kill yourself there!"

To my astonishment, he cried, "Go away!" There

was a pause and he said, "Go away!" once more and

disappeared.

I might have dashed mto the church after him,

had not my companion held onto my arm, begging

me to leave him alone. Then I heard the man laugh-

ing, and I was . . . yes . . . dumbfounded when his

laughter was followed, a moment later, by a wail like

that of a hungry, abandoned baby, a piercing cry that

mingled with the clanging of the bell. I told the old

man to inform the proper authority, though I had

not the vaguest notion as to who the proper authority

might be. He paid me no mind, and when I left he

was on his knees in the dirty snow.

I hurried across the street back to the sentry box,

dismissed my driver, and drove oflE.

^;i^;^^;j^;^;i^^^;^;^^;^ 4

THE SOLITARY HOUSE stood at the top of a hill

that commanded a wintry view of the city of Pyong-

yang and the Taedong River. I drove up the winding

road that ended halfway up the hill, parked the jeep

and walked the rest of the way. A gravel path, almost hidden in the snow, led to the front of the two-storied

gray house through shrubs, stubby, crooked pine

trees, and a dilapidated garden cluttered with piles

of dirty snow. A small balcony with iron rails was supported by two short pillars of gray stone.

I knocked on the white front door, which was finally

opened by an old woman, who let me into a dim

hallway. She peered at me warily, wiping her chapped

hands with her apron. She told me that Mr. Shin was

not at home for he usually spent his day at his church

downtown, that he was busy, very busy, and that I

could leave my message with her. She was blocking

27

28

my way, as it were, firmly planting herself in front

of me in the hushed hallway.

I asked her, then, if I could see Mr. Hann. "How

did you know he is here?" she said, surprised, and

even frightened, I thought.

"Are you from the police?"

I told her I was not, that I was an army oflBcer.

But why did she ask me if I was from the police? She

ignored my question.

"Anyway, he isn't feeling well. I ought to know,"

she said. "I am his nurse."

So I ventured to ask her if she minded my paying

my respects to him.

She gasped in protest.

"I promise you that I shan't take too much time,"

I said.

"Well, he isn't home either,'* came the prompt reply.

"But you told me he is ill."

"He isn't a sick man. He can go out for a walk,

can't he?" she said as though she were pleading.

I looked at her closely, but her eyes did not meet

mine. I decided to leave. I told her I hoped I might

have the pleasure of meeting the ministers some other

day. She gave me an appreciative glance and asked

me who I was. Would I care to leave any message?

When I said no, she seemed relieved and asked me

where I was from. Was I a Christian? I said I was

29

not, but I had gone, when I was small, to the Sunday

school of a neighborhood church in Seoul. I told her

that I was sorry I had disturbed her, and I turned to

go away. But as I touched the cold, brass doorknob,

I found myself impulsively swinging around, facing

her. "What would you say if I told you I saw Mr.

Hann this morning at the Central Church?"

'*No!" she said. "Not there!"

**Yes!" I was about to tell her what I had seen when

I heard someone on the stairway. I collected myself

and looked up.

A man garbed in a black robe stopped halfway down the stairs, waiting for the nurse to withdraw,

his dark eyes looking down at me. Then he came

straight to me.

"Mr. Shin?" I said.

"Yes. Forgive me. I could not help overhearing.

You wanted to see me?"

I took off my helmet and introduced myself.

As soon as we were seated in a bare, dusty room

there was no furniture other than a few brown wooden

chairs, nor any sign of heat—^he said quietly, "You say you have seen Mr. Hann?"

"Do you think I might have seen him?" I said,

feeling ill at ease.

"It is possible." Mr. Shin drew his garment tightly

30

around him. His Adam's apple twitched as he ad-

justed his long neck to the robe. There was a hollow

look in his unshaven face, and his large, feverish eyes

gazed steadily into mine. "Yes, it is possible."

He coughed—a dry, racking cough that convxilsed his thin frame. "I have been worried about him," he

said. "He went out last night and hasn't come home

yet. This is the first time he has stayed out so long.**

"Didn't you look for him?'*

"We couldn't go out last night. There is a curfew,

as you know. Unfortunately, I am ordered to be in

bed by my doctor, and I couldn't send the nurse out

for fear she might lose her way. So I have been waiting

for the janitor of my church, who comes here once

a day, but he hasn't come yet. I am only hoping that

Mr. Hann hasn't troubled the authorities and that he

will come home any minute.**

"The nurse told me he is ill,'* I said. "Is he seriously

ill?"

Mr. Shin did not reply.

"Is there anything I can do?" I did not know why

I said it.

"Why should you care for us?" he asked, frowning

sUghtly. "We hardly know you."

"Why should you be surprised?'*

"Aren't you here to . . . how shall I put it ... to

interrogate me?"

31

I did not like the tone with which he deliberately

stressed the word, interrogate. "No," I said.

"But you are from InteUigence."

'•Yes, but I am not an interrogator."

"Sorry. I did not mean to offend you," he muttered,

stirring in his chair. "What do you know about me?"

"Not very much and that only superficially."

His pale Ups formed a semblance of a smile. "Well?"

"You are forty-seven years old, and Mr. Hann,

twenty-eight. You were both arrested by the Com-

munist secret police on June eighteenth, seven days

before the war started; and on the same day, other

Christian ministers were also arrested." I told bim

what I had been briefed on by CIC. "You were about

to be shot when our Infantry arrived, and you were

set free from prison."

"Are you a professional inteUigence man?" he

asked. "If so, I don't mind telling you that I disdain

your profession."

I told him about my academic career, to which I

would return as soon as the war was over.

'*You interest me," he said. "But I suppose you

want to find out something from me, whatever it may

be?" He crossed his arms over his chest, hunching his

shoulders as he coughed.

"We are concerned about the other ministers," I

said. "I assume you know they were kidnapped by the

32

Communists." I paused and studied his face, which

remained expressionless. "1 can tell you that the Army

knows that much. There is no evidence about the

kidnapping, even about the fact—well, we established it as the fact—that they were arrested. We would like to know why they were arrested in the first place."

"Need there be any special reason for the Com-

munists to arrest Christians?"

"Were you with them?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"When you were arrested you were all together,

weren't you?" I suggested boldly. "As a group?"

"Yes," came the unhesitant reply, to my surprise. "Then you must know what happened to the

others."

"No, I don't."

"But you were with them."

"Yes. You want to know why we were separated."

He looked up at the white, cracked ceiling, from which

dangled a naked hght bulb, then back at me again. •That I wouldn't know."

"We know that you and Mr. Hann were moved to the prison on June twenty-fifth, the day the Commu- nists invaded the South," I said. "Why did they move just the two of you?"

"You are interrogating me, aren't you?"

"No. I am merely interested to know what has hap- pened to the other ministers."

33

"Why through me?" he said wearily. "You know-

that we were separated. Then how do you expect me

to tell you anything about them?"

"I thought perhaps you might be able to tell us

something about their fate."

"Don't you know enough about it already?" he said,

looking at me sternly.

"Kidnapped?"

"That's right."

"Do you believe it?" I raised my voice. "That they

were really kidnapped and that they may be aUve

somewhere?"

"Do you?" he said.

"No," I confessed. "No, I don't."

"Neither do I."

"Then you beUeve they were executed?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"How many ministers?"

"There were fourteen of us."

"Then two survived?"

"And I suppose you want to know why we two were

not shot?"

I waited for his reply; but I was hardly prepared

for what he declared a moment later:

"It was through divine intervention."

I remained silent.

34

"You don't believe in God, do you?" he said, and

lowered his eyes.

"No."

'Then call it luck," he said resignedly.

Mr. Shin asked me if I had driven to the house, and

if so, would I mind giving him a ride into the city.

"Would you be kind enough to take me to the Cen-

tral Church? I don't want to impose on you, but I

would appreciate it."

He left me to get his coat, and came back wearing

a black overcoat and carrying a gray one on his arm.

We walked silently down the hill to my jeep, and drove into the city.

It was almost dusk when we reached the church.

The curfew was near and the streets were deserted

except for a few uniformed passers-by. A jeep prowled by, its loudspeaker reminding people of the curfew

and of the nightly blackout.

Mr. Shin did not want me to come with him inside

the church, and without a moment's hesitation he dis-

appeared through the dim, gaping mouth of the open

doorway into the dark interior.

In a Uttle while he came out with the man I had

seen that morning, who was now wearing the gray

overcoat. When they came down the steps, at the bot-

tom of which I was standing, the man saw me and

35

stopped. Mr. Shin said to him gently, "It is all right.

He is our friend. Would you like to meet him? Why,

of course," and he turned to me, his face serene.

"Captain Lee, I would like you to meet Mr. Hann."

The young minister looked at me blankly, with a

faint smile on his emaciated face.

I do not know what it was about him that pierced

my heart, but suddenly I felt again the same rage I

had experienced earlier in the war. A few miles south of Pyongyang we had discovered a cave on a moun-

tainside. Several hundred political prisoners had been

forced into the cave by the retreating Communists,

who then machine-gunned the prisoners and sealed

the mouth of the cave by dynamiting it. I was in

charge of a detachment to dig open the cave. For

hours we dug; spectators were gathering—farmers from a nearby village—photographers, Korean and foreign—radio - announcers, clutching their micro- phones. At last we made an opening barely large

enough for me to squeeze through into the black mouth of the cave. Something gave way under my boots—I had stumbled on a corpse. With a shiver I stood dazed in the darkness, nauseated by the hellish

stench of decomposition and excrement, aware of faint

groans and a whimpering that seemed no longer hu-

man. Something touched my arm; in a frenzy, I seized it, a human hand almost skeletal, and edged toward

36

the opening and out into the world, pulling, carrying,

dragging a man. And there he was, out in the flooding

sunshine, lying on his back, his hollow eyes wide open,

his spent flesh shrouded in tattered, rotting clothes, ob-

livious of everything around him as though his soul had

not been dug out of the cave with his body. And I, too,

was oblivous of everything, everyone around me as I

squatted down beside him. Then I came to and saw

them, those photographers, and heard the sharp,

metallic clicking of the shutters of their cameras. A strange, terrible shame seized me, and I crouched

over the man, staring into the limbo of his leaden

eyes, as if trying to shield with my body the mute

dignity of his suffering from the nonchalant prying

eyes behind the cameras. "Captain, would you mind,"

someone shouted, "would you move away so I can get

a better shot of him?" Out of the bloated toothless

mouth oozed dark, yellowish liquid, and flies, those

flies, swarming, buzzing, buzzing, eerily mingled with

the hysterical voices of the announcers, and "Cap-

tain, let me get a good shot of him." Then I thought

someone pushed me away, and blind with rage I

snatched a shovel from the hands of a soldier and

began smashing the cameras, chasing those cold eyes

from my man, the flies, those terrible flies. . . .

In silent humiUty, I touched Mr. Hann's cold, cold

hand.

37

He turned his face to Mr. Shin, who nodded to him;

then, suddenly he staggered, and ahnost collapsed.

I drove them back to the foot of the hill, and walked

with them to the house. The nurse came running out

of the front door and led the young minister inside,

Mr. Shin cordially shook my hand before I left.

But I had scarcely taken ten or so steps away from

him when I stopped and turned around.

He was still there, standing in the bleak garden, a

shadowy figure in the blurring twilight.

"Mr. Shin?" I called out to him.

"Yes?"

"The other ministers—they were all murdered shortly before you were moved to the prison. Did you

know?"

He was silent.

"Mr. Shin?"

"Yes?"

I hesitated for a moment, but I knew I had to ask

him. I said, "Your god—is he aware of the suffering of his people?"

He turned around without a word, and withdrew

into the dark, solitary house.

^l^^^^^^i^^^^^;!^ 5

THE BLACK, COLD November night shrouded the city outside. It was singularly quiet. I did not hear the

sound of the usual troop movements or of the con-

voys of supply, only occasionally the faint whining

of a lone jeep, or the distant humming of a formation

of bombers. Alone in my office I sat on the edge of

the camp bed near the coal stove that glowed in the

shadowy halo of the candlehght. The night was get-

ting deep, but I was in no mood for sleep. The win-

dowpanes rattled, and the faint clanging of the bell

slipped into the room, permeating my consciousness.

I picked up the crude iron bar from the coal box and

poked the lava-like coal in the stove, sending up a

hissing blaze. The undulating Ught and the enveloping

darkness gnawed at each other spasmodically, and

gazing at the hypnotic, wavering blue core of the

candlelight I knew only that I was at a loss; and that

was a pity.

38

39

That certainly was a pity because the next morning

when Colonel Chang exclaimed, "Divine interven-

tion! What does he think he is, a saint!" I could not

help laughing with him, however momentarily, half

amused and half uncomfortable.

"Divine intervention, eh? Oh, well, let him have his

way," he said, good-naturedly.

I was surprised and even puzzled by his extraordi-

nary geniality, for I had expected him to fly into a

rage over my report on the visit to the ministers. How-

ever, he behaved extremely well, and even managed

to put me off my guard by indicating that he was not

at all annoyed with the outcome of my interview with

Mr. Shin. I had anticipated some sort of violent re-

action from him upon learning that the two ministers

had been with the other twelve shortly before the

execution. Yet all he said was: "Yes, yes." Then he

swiveled in his squeaking chair and laughed again:

"You really must have scared the devil out of him!

So—he had to hide behind his god, eh? Well, well, young fellow, that's good work, very good work, in-

deed."

His confident manner and indulgent laughter dis-

turbed me. "I don't think I did anything to scare him,

sir," I protested. "Besides, I don't think he was scared

of anything. He looked more tired than anything else."

"Ah, you don't understand. Of course, he was

40

scared. But remember, he is a preacher and he knows

how to put on a good act—theatrical, if you know what I mean. Of course, he was scared," he said, with

a wave of his hand. "I knew it, I knew it."

"Sir, I hope you are not suggesting that they col-

laborated with the Communists," I said.

"Well, what do you think?"

"It is very difficult for me to suspect that they could

have betrayed the other ministers."

"Why not?" he asked, with a peculiar, cold smile

on his face that for some reason at the moment made

me think of him as a gambler. He leaned back in his

chair. "Well, why not? Because they are Christians?

You are not a Christian."

"No, I am not, but that's beside the point, sir. I

don't think the Communists needed any collaboration,

because they wanted to murder the prisoners anyway.

There wasn't anything really against the ministers, as

you know yourself, sir. What I mean is that there

were no justifiable charges against them. So, why

should the Communists have needed informants or

collaborators?"

"Of course the Reds had no charges," he said, as

though he pitied my naivete. "But that's beside the

point, if I may borrow your expression. When you

don't have charges, you manufacture them. It's as

simple as that. So they manufactured charges against

41

the ministers, then they needed someone to confess

that's right—confess and bear witness to the charges. It's all very simple."

"You mean the two ministers were forced to con-

fess?"

"Possibly."

"We don't have any evidence for that."

**No, we don't."

"Then what do you suppose we ought to do?"

"Just wait."

I was quite tense by then, and I felt as though I

were struggling to disentangle myself from a web.

"Wait for what, sir?"

"Confession."

"I don't understand."

"I am waiting for them to confess."

"Confess what, sir?"

"That they gave their confessions to the Reds."

"Then you really think that's how they survived."

"Can you think of any better explanation," he said,

"apart from his nonsense about divine intervention?"

"Good luck, perhaps," I muttered.

"More nonsense."

I felt desperate, without knowing precisely why. I

said as calmly as I could, "Then you ought to arrest

them."

42

Colonel Chang chuckled. "My dear fellow, you

don't think I am as stupid as that, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"Look here, I have no intention of downgrading

Christians. Why should I go out of my way to discredit

Christians, whose interests, after all, coincide with

ours in this war? On the contrary, I intend to do my

best to protect them, to boost their morale, and to

promote their interests."

"Then why do you have to have such a strong sus-

picion about the ministers?" I said. "After all, even

if they confessed to the manufactured charges, we can

reasonably assume that they were forced to do so, and

that it doesn't really constitute an act of treason. At

least, not in my opinion, sir."

Tilting his head, he gazed at me through his thick

glasses. "What about in the opinion of their god?" he

said.

I shook my head helplessly. "I wouldn't know about

that."

Suddenly dispelling the air he had been affecting

of harmless good nature, he snapped, "No, you don't.

But I do! I tell you, I do!" He paused, and pointed his

finger at me. "Put yourself in their place and think

about the martyrs—those twelve ministers who were murdered in cold blood. Can't you see what these two

must be going through? Well, we'll forget about the

43

crazy one. Now, don't misunderstand me. I am not

trying to hound this man, Shin. By no means. I want

to help him."

"Help him!"

"For the sake of justice, I want to hear his con-

fession. But I won't turn that against him. No, I won't.

I mean to protect him and I'll do all I can to keep it

secret. I am sure the Chief of Army InteUigence won't

have any objection to that. That's right. I'll protect

him, FU make him a hero, and I'll even cooperate with

him for the cause of Christianity in North Korea."

"But suppose, sir, suppose, he has nothing to say?"

Colonel Chang leaned forward, his eyes shining

darkly. "We shall then appeal to his conscience," he

said.

^;^;^;^;^^;^^^^^;^^ 6

CURIOUSLY ENOUGH Colonel Chang had not told me to see Mr. Shin again, nor had he intimated that

I should do so on my own initiative. In the next few

days, I saw the colonel several times but he gave me

no inkling as to the unresolved problem concern-

ing the ministers. His behavior puzzled me, finally

disturbed me. Meanwhile, I was busy with my routine

activities; I attended regular staff meetings, wrote

innumerable pamphlets for the Army's Troop Infor-

mation and Education Bureau, and prepared a few

speeches for the chief, one of whose jobs it was to

speak to groups of civic-minded people in the city.

As the month of November progressed, the Korean

Infantry and various U.N. troops on the western front

were busily engaged in the final stage of mopping-up

operations near the Yalu River, across which stretched

the endless expanse of the frozen plains of Man-

44

45

churia; on the eastern front, the U.N. Infantry and

the American Marines, encountering little opposition,

steadily made their way toward the Tumen River near

Siberia. The demoralization of the North Korean

Army was swift and complete; the war was virtually

coming to an end. Everyone was cheerful and hopeful,

and was convinced that it would be all over by Christ-

mas.

Then one cold and windy afternoon, I received the

following letter from Park:

I am still alive, in case you wondered. At least I

know I am alive right this minute. We are moving fast these days, too recklessly fast, perhaps. We hardly stop anywhere long enough to think about

where we are going. Well—I just survived my first hand-to-hand combat. But my CO was killed, so they made me a temporary captain and put me in

charge of the company. What happened is—we got into a bayonet fight with a company of North

Koreans in a valley. Both sides charged and it was

all right for a while—just a regular hand-to-hand combat. Then somehow everything got all mixed

up, and it was wild. The trouble was that it was

pitch-black night and that we all spoke Korean.

DevU only knew which side we were killi ng, Every-

one was shouting in the same language, "Who are you? Who are you?" For a while the bewilderment was simply staggering. Then, something—panic, ter- ror, you name it—snapped, and everyone was kill-

46

ing everyone else. All of a sudden, a hand grenade

exploded, and that did it We scattered in all direc- tions, throwing grenades behind us. But that was

nothing. Some idiot had called for artillery fire, and

shells started pouring down out of the black sky.

It was a deep, rocky valley, squeezed in by steep

cliffs, and I just wonder—if you had been up on top of one of those mountains and had been able to see

what was going on down there in the black bottom

of the valley—I just wonder how you would have felt? But why am I writing you all this? I don't

exactly know. Perhaps, I am frightened of myself.

It depresses me to suspect that I am the very source

of my horror. Will write again. Take care of your-

self

Park's letter had been written nearly two weeks

before, and it did not give me the faintest clue as to

the location of his unit. I wanted to write him, but I

knew my letter would take more time to reach him

than his letter had to find me. I thought I would take

advantage of my position and make use of the direct

telephone of the Intelligence Communication Service.

For this, I needed the assistance of the Marine Corps

liaison oflBcer assigned to our headquarters. I went

down to his office.

The officer, a husky, young lieutenant who limped

noticeably, made notes of Park's name, his serial

47

number and his unit's number, and assured me that

he would let me know as soon as he could how to

reach Park. He was usually cheerful and sociable,

with clear brown eyes and a quick boyish snule; but

while he attended to me that afternoon, he was quiet

and businesslike. I did not t^ him more than was

necessary, and he was scrupulous enough not to ask

me any questions.

When I thanked him for his help and turned to go,

he stood up from his chair and detained me. Then he

closed the door of his oflBce and came to where I was

standing. His behavior aroused my curiosity. He

looked at me for a moment, scratched the back of his

head and his cropped hair, and smiled sheepishly.

"Captain Lee," he said, "I really don't know if it's all

right to teU you this."

I returned his smile. "Well?"

"It's about this Captain Park," he said.

"Yes?"

"You are not the only one who wants to contact

him. Colonel Chang is also interested in him."

"Colonel Chang?"

"Yes. He was down here about four days ago and

asked me to locate Captain Park . . . well, he didn't know the oflBcer had been promoted then."

"What did he want?"

"That's the point. It was supposed to be very im-

48

portant. Of course, I don't have any idea what he was

up to. It wasn't that he wanted to call him, though."

The lieutenant frowned and went on to tell me that,

after he had located Park for Colonel Chang, the

colonel had communicated with the Chief of Naval

Intelligence. "It was, you know, sort of hush-hush,"

he concluded. "I really don't know if I should have

told you about this."

I told him it was all right, he was not violating any

security regulations.

"So, you see, when you asked me about the same

officer, I just couldn't help wondering about him,"

he said. "Who is he? Is he involved in something? Oh,

I talk too much. Never mind. Captain. I won't ask

you any more questions."

I assured him that it was all right with me, that

Park was a friend of mine, and that I wanted to call

him only for personal reasons.

He was relieved and said, beaming, "Oh, that's fine.

Tell you the truth, I do it myself sometimes, I try to

contact fellows I know all over the country. You

know, just to keep in touch." He told me how, out of

two hundred or so who had been trained and com-

missioned with him, only forty-seven were still alive;

they were, most of them, college students who had

volunteered. There was a feeling of kinship between

us; we both had been in an academic environment

49

before the war; we chatted, oblivious to our present

status, about our universities, and our future plans.

Then we talked about our experiences in the war; and

he was telling me how he had been wounded by "a

God-damned Russian mine," and how those "quacks" ,

—those medical students in uniform—had been scared to death at the first aid station and had almost

"chopped his knee off" and so on, when we heard a

knock on the door.

It was my orderly. I was wanted by Colonel Chang.

I thanked the Marine lieutenant for his help, and

headed for the colonel's office.

On my way upstairs, I could not help feeling that

I was like a helpless spectator, vainly conjecturing

about the elusive performance of a magician. At the

same time I was indignant, for I felt the colonel had

encroached upon my private life by deUberately by- passing me in undertaking affairs that had something

to do with Park.

Colonel Chang, upon seeing me enter his office,

gestured that I should take a chair and wait until he

was ready for me. I could not but think that he had

already guessed what was in my mind. For a few min- utes he engaged himself in a mute examination of

papers on his desk. Then, shoving the papers aside, he

raised his smooth bald head and said, as though speak-

ing to himself. "Well, well, how do you Uke that?"

50

"Sir?"

"This man. Shin," he said, shaking his head as if

he was overwhelmed by a sense of helpless resignation.

"I simply don't understand him."

"What's the trouble, sir?"

"I've had CIC do a quiet opinion poU, so to speak.

You know, just asking some Christians about the two

ministers. Well, they all say the same thing—that the two were separated from the others by the Reds, so

they had no knowledge of what became of the twelve

ministers. How do you like that, eh?"

"Perhaps it's the truth."

With a grin, he said, "It's not as simple as that. The

point is that this man, Shin, has told his congregation

in plain words that he and the other one. Harm, hadn't

seen the other ministers again after they had been

separately interrogated by the Reds. What do you

think of that?"

"I suppose his congregation, or for that matter, all

the Christians in the country, would like to know what

happened to the ministers and they would ask him

about it. It seems to me only natural under the cir-

cumstances."

"Natural indeed," he snapped. "And they would

believe whatever he tells them, wouldn't they? If they

are all good Christians, that is."

"I suppose, sir," I answered helplessly. "I don't ex-

51

pect they would seriously think their minister was

telling them a lie from his pulpit."

"Well said, Captain. Very well said."

I was not ready to leave. I stood up but lingered

for a moment, groping for the right word with which

to begin my own cross-examination, as it were, about

Park. Colonel Chang looked up from his desk at me,

as though he were genuinely surprised to see me still

there, and said good-naturedly, "That is all. Captain.

Thank you for coming."

I gave in and made to go, when he said casually,

"Tomorrow is Sunday, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good. I thought you and I might attend the

service at Minister Shin's church tomorrow."

^l^i^^^i^i^^^^^^^}!^ 7

"BUT WHY ARE you telling me about it?" said Mr. Shin, slowly raising his head.

I had decided, after my supper at headquarters, to

go to see him. I had no clear idea why I wanted to see

him, except for a vague feeling of restlessness. I still

did not have the slightest notion, even when we were

sitting face to face, as to what had convinced me of

the necessity to drive all that way to the hill. So I sat

quietly, for some time, merely looking at Mr. Shin,

who maintaiued, to my great relief, an air of immeas-

urable serenity.

"I suppose I should be grateful to you for letting

me know where I stand," he continued slowly, "but,

frankly, I don't quite understand why you should go

out of your way to do me this favor." He looked at me

calmly, covering his mouth with a handkerchief. He

was coughing with much difficulty, with his lean

52

53

shoulders hunched and twitching; he looked weary

and his eyes were deeply sunken. The coughing

stopped and he said, "To be sure, I don't mean to say

that I am not grateful. It is just that I don't under-

stand you."

"Neither do I understand myself," I confessed,

"I expected to see you again, of course," he said,

"but not under these circumstances." He looked at me

as though he doubted the sincerity of my motive for

coming to see him.

I felt uncomfortable, and I said awkwardly, "I hope

you don't still consider me an interrogator."

"It makes little difference to me. I don't mind if

you question me." His manner was cool and deliberate

—at least it seemed so to me. "Is there anything more I can learn from you?" I

said, slightly vexed with myself, for I wished I had

not come. "Haven't you told me all you know about

the murdered ministers?"

He did not respond.

"I can understand your feeling toward those whose

business it is to interrogate, prosecute, and execute

people," I went on. "Perhaps you judge them all alike,

regardless of whether they are North Koreans or South

Koreans or what not. But I assure you that within our

organization, as far as I know, there are many decent

people who would like to be of help to others, well.

54

to others like you." I stopped and felt I was blushing

a little.

"Are you trying to help me?" he asked. "Why?"

"I don't know." I said. "Perhaps, I need your help

more than you need mine. Who knows?"

'To tell you frankly, I don't blame your colonel,"

he said, pausing for his coughing to stop. "On the con-

trary, I consider it his duty to form such opinions

about me. I should have done the same had I been in

his place."

"Are you suggesting that he has justifiable reasons

for suspecting you?" I said, frowning.

"But of course," he said. There was no indication of

sarcasm in his placid, matter-of-fact air.

"You don't really mean that, do you?"

"Why not? After all, do not forget that a Christian,

a clergyman, is also a human being. He should be

examined in the same light of human passion, and on

the same scale of human frailty as any other man

would be. I don't consider myself or any other clergy-

man necessarily capable of not succumbing to physical

and spiritual torture."

It was the first time I heard him speak so forcefully,

though his voice was subdued and his manner un-

ruffled; he spoke without looking at me, only staring

into the empty, cold space before him as though he

were addressing someone invisible, hovering over me.

55

"As you know," he continued, "Mr. Hann and I

were about to be shot when the prison was captured.

But that makes Uttle difference. We survived, and the survival of any poHtical prisoner in a Communist

prison is an extraordinary thing in itself. Particularly,

in our case, it was a near-miracle. But miracle is a

diflBcult word to understand these days, and when we

survived while twelve ministers were executed, the

meaning of the word becomes ambiguous. Therefore,

it is natural that a suspicion should arise."

"But you are innocent of the suspicion, aren't you?"

I blurted out. "I assume you have told me the truth."

He stirred in his chair. "I have told you all that I

can tell you."

*'You are innocent, aren't you?" I repeated.

"Yes."

"Then you told me the truth."

"I speak the truth of my conscience, Captain."

"Am I not capable of judging the truth?" "Don't you realize," he said gravely, "that you are

speaking of the fact of man, and I of the truth of my

faith?"

*Then you beUeve you are innocent in the eyes of

your god."

He seemed startled by my words, and he gazed at me intensely for some time; then he lowered his eyes

and said quietly, "It is for Him to judge me."

56

Mr. Shin came to the door with me. I asked him

about the young minister and was told that he was

well taken care of by a doctor and the nurse; beyond

that, he would say nothing. I wanted to do something

for him, and I was on the point of telling him that he

should not hesitate to ask me for help, when he said,

"Do you know, by any chance, a young man of your

age, Indoe Park?"

"Do I know him!" I exclaimed. "He is my best

friend."

For a moment, he stared at me as though he re-

gretted that he had asked me about Park. Then he

said quietly, "The last thing I heard of him was that

he was teaching in Seoul at the university where you

taught before the war. I thought you might have

known him."

"We were always together," I said. "We taught the

same subject. But how do you know him?"

"I suppose you must know about his father," he

said.

"Yes, I do."

"I knew both of them. You may say, I was a family

friend. How is he now?"

I told him about Park, adding that I had just re-

ceived a letter from him that afternoon.

"Does he know?" he asked.

"No. I haven't told him."

57

"I understand both of them," he said. "I understand

your friend as I understood his father. Very proud,

so passionately proud. Yes, I understand them." Then

he was silent; and I knew he did not wish to detain

me any longer. I was bidding him good night when

we heard a knock on the door. I looked at Mr. Shin;

he nodded, and I opened the door.

A man in uniform walked into the dimly lit hall- way and glanced at me in surprise, as though he had

not expected to find another man in uniform there.

His outward appearance was nearly identical to mine:

combat boots, a parka, a steel helmet, though he did

not wear a pistol nor any insignia. He did not seem

to have recognized my host, who was standing quietly

behind me. "I would like to see Mr. Shin," he said

gruffly. "I am Chaplain Koh of the Third Brigade.

I am an old friend."

I stepped aside so that he could speak directly to

Mr. Shin. The chaplain came forward and looked

closely at the minister. He was a tall, thickset man,

and his steel helmet, pressed down to his eyebrows,

blurred his profile with an uneven shadow, save for

his dented chin. He seemed only now to recognize

Mr. Shin and exclaimed, "Why, it's you! I could

hardly tell it was you! My Lord, what suffering you must have gone through!" He thrust out his hand,

but Mr. Shin did not respond, and the big, stubby

58

hand remained suspended in the air as if it were sud-

denly frozen. Then he grabbed the minister's arm,

and said, "Good Lord, you need a doctor to take care

of you!"

Mr. Shin violently brushed his hand aside. He

stepped back and said sternly, "Do not touch me."

He coughed violently. The nurse appeared in the

background.

"What's the matter? Are you ill?" cried the chap-

lain; and turning to me, "Is he all right? Is he ill?"

"I do not wish to see you," said Mr. Shin, agitated.

"I bid you leave my house. You know as well as I do

why I do not wish to see you."

I looked at Chaplain Koh with vague feelings of

hostiUty, but he did not seem to be shocked or angry.

Rather, he appeared to have anticipated Mr. Shin's

behavior. He was silent for a while, then said politely,

"Yes, I know. I understand how you feel about me.

But I have something very important to tell you and

as soon as I finish telling you about it, I'll leave."

"Then speak," commanded Mr. Shin.

The chaplain glanced at me as though begging me

to leave them alone.

I turned to Mr. Shin. "Is there anything I can do

for you?"

"No, thank you," he muttered. "Good night."

;i^^^^^^^^^^^li^fi^ 8

LATE SUNDAY MORNING, Colonel Chang and

I drove to Mr. Shin's church, which was not too far

from our headquarters. We parked the jeep in a deserted alley off the main street, and started to walk.

About thirty paces from where we left the jeep, there

was a narrow, gradually ascending path barely wide

enough for us to walk shoulder to shoulder. Along

both sides there were rows of shabby, flat houses of

gray stone and dirty plaster. Beneath the soft new

snow under our feet lurked the old snow as hard and

slippery as ice. Colonel Chang had much diflBculty

walking up the winding path.

When we looked back we could see first the snow-

covered roofs of the houses we had passed, then those

of the other houses farther away, and then the streets

down below. Soon we found ourselves in a clearing,

face to face with a small wooden gate, beyond which

59

60

a footpath led us to two flights of stone steps cleared

of snow. There, above the steps, on a massive expanse

of flat rock, stood the towering church of red brick,

with four ponderous marble pillars and large stained-

glass windows aglow in the sun. The cross-topped

belfry perched high above the blinding snow on the

roof, its many bells ringing, vibrating in the sunny

air. To the left of the church, near the edge of the

rocky clearing, ran an iron fence, and a steep precipice

swept downward. The bells stopped ringing.

We were late for the service. It was very quiet; not a sound from within the church, nor from the traffic

down below reached our ears. Perhaps the congrega-

tion was praying, I suggested to the colonel.

He turned to me. "Quite a church, isn't it? I under-

stand it can seat well over a thousand people."

"It is lucky to have survived," I remarked. "Nothing

seems to have touched it at all." I could not help

comparing the fates of the two churches in the same

city, the devastated church of Park's father, and Mr.

Shin's, which somehow had managed to survive the

tribulations of war.

"It has nothing to do with luck," Colonel Chang

said. "We saved it quite intentionally. Didn't you know

that this church saw one of the bloodiest battles? The

Reds had an antiaircraft battery up here, certainly a

very convenient location, although it's extremely vul-

61

nerable to aerial attack. Of course they had an artil-

lery observation post here, too, when we reached the

other side of the river. They knew we were not allowed

to do any damage to this church. It was an idiotic

decision when you look at it from a purely tactical

point of view, but the strategic value of saving the

church was greater than smashing it for an immediate

tactical gain. It was supposed to be a symbolic gesture

on our part. But the Reds could pinpoint their artillery

fire practically at any target, and that was too much

for us when we had to cross the river and take the

city. So we threw in a detachment of commandos,

who climbed up here—Heaven knows how—and took the post and held it, with our aerial protection, until

we crossed the river. So that's how this church was

spared. Can you imagine," he glanced upward, "that a

Red was right up there in that belfry, directing artillery

fire against us while we were trying to save the church

and by so doing save his life?" He cluck-clucked,

shaking his head. Then he said that we should go in

and join the congregation. We seated ourselves in one of the rear pews.

The interior was somewhat like that of a grand

theater, with rising rows of pews, plastered pillars that

supported the balcony, and many aisles leading to

the altar with an elevated pulpit. Under the expanse

of white ceihng, from which a dozen or so crystal

62

chandeliers were suspended with gilded chains, the

congregation was bowed in prayer, immobile as

though the freezing air had turned it into a multitude

of lifeless statues. I looked for Mr. Shin but I did not

see him behind the altar, where four white-robed elders

sat on high-backed chairs. One of the chairs was un-

occupied. I glanced at Colonel Chang, but his face

remained expressionless. I looked at the altar again,

in time to see one of the elders disappear into the right

wing of the church and come back.

Then the prayer was over, there was a rustling of

clothes and discreet coughing in the congregation, and

I saw the elder, who had returned, lean toward the

others. Presently, one of them mounted the pulpit, on

which a giant Bible lay open, and announced the sing-

ing of a certain hymn. Colonel Chang reached for the

rack on the back of the pew in front of us, and picked

out a hymnbook, which he opened and handed to

me, motioning me to stand up. We rose as the pipe organ began to play the prelude, but I did not join

in the singing although the Colonel urged me to, indi-

cating with his plump finger the proper passage. He

observed my behavior with obvious enjoyment; once

he even chuckled.

During the singing, the same elder went into the

wing again, returning to his seat only at the end of

the hymn. Colonel Chang reached out for the rack

63

again, picked up two small square envelopes, and

asked if he could borrow some money from me. I

gave him some change, which he put in an envelope,

explaining that these envelopes were for the use of

those who did not wish to reveal the amount of their

offering. He handed me one.

The service progressed, but Mr, Shin still did not

appear. An elder read a passage from the Bible, then

spoke to the congregation. It was with the greatest

regret, he said, that he had to announce the sad news

that Mr. Shin was unable to be present, due to a sud-

den illness. He proposed that the congregation pray

for the health and speedy recovery of the minister who

had suffered much at the hands of those who were

against the will of God.

Colonel Chang sprang to his feet and stalked out of

the church. I hastily followed him and when I had

closed the weighty front door behind me he was al-

ready approaching the gate. I ran down the path and

came abreast of him. Together, we descended the hiU

in silence.

It was only when we reached the jeep that he spoke.

"Too sick to preach!" he snorted.

^^^^;^^l^^^^^^^ 9

A SERIES OF conferences and briefings occupied the afternoon until well past four o'clock, when, at last

free and alone, I shut myself up in my office and gazed

out the window. In the last rays of the setting sun, the

tip of the cross over the gray bell tower glowed faindy,

and snow flurries swished about the ruins, some chas-

ing after the jeeps and trucks, some sweeping along

the edge of the streets. Shadows crept upward on the

slope, invading the mutilated church, then the bell

tower, and as the jagged silhouette grew darker, a

somber silence enveloped the city. The wind had

subsided, no sound came from the bell as the sun

swiftly disappeared, and then it was evening. I headed

for Mr. Shin's house again.

The nurse met me. Her hair was neatly combed and

her clothes unruffled, but she seemed weary and at a

loss as to what to do with me as she held open the front

64

65

door, neither letting mc in, nor shutting me out. Wc

looked at each other mutely in the dim hght for a mo-

ment, then she smiled shyly, shaking her head. She

let me into the hallway and hushed me. She opened

the door of the room where I had sat with Mr. Shin

the night before, and motioned me to follow her in.

Her manner flattered mc a little, though I felt uneasy.

I asked her if Mr. Shin was ill.

Her small eyes became smaller and narrower, wrin-

kles gathered about them. In the harsh light of the

naked hght bulb, her face looked, for a second, like a

shriveled death mask. "It's worse than that," she said.

"Did you send for a doctor?" I asked.

"What can a doctor do for him?"

"He was coughing badly last night."

"He's been spitting blood," she said, shaking her

head.

I felt alarmed, for I had not suspected that Mr.

Shin's illness was so critical. "You should have told

me about it sooner," I said. "We must do something."

"I don't know what we can do," she said. "He won't

take medicine. He only tells me it's not the doctor's

medicine he needs."

"Can I see him? You must let me see him at once."

"I can't. He's been praying since last night and

fasting too. I stayed up all night in case he needed

66

me; he hasn't slept, he hasn't eaten, he hasn't even

called me. He's still praying upstairs, I am sure."

We were both quiet for a while.

Then she said, "It's all because of that man!"

"You mean the chaplain."

"Yes, the man who came to see Mr. Shin last night.

They were shouting at each other after you left. I

didn't know what to do. Then Mr. Shin started cough-

ing. I could bear it even in the kitchen; he was

coughing ternbiy. I told the man to leave the house."

"Had you seen him before?"

"No, I don't know him personally, but everyone

knows what sort of a man he is," she said. "He had a

church here, but one night he ran away. He just

bolted, without telling anyone about it. That was a

year or so before the war."

"Didn't he have a family?"

"No, he was all by himself."

"Was he, maybe, in trouble with the Communists?"

"Who knows? The next day, the Communist poUce

took four young men of his church and nobody saw

them again. Now he's back as an Army chaplain and

all that. You see, Mr. Shin had good reason to get

upset and angry." She paused. "Anyway, after he

ran away, they asked my son to tend his church."

I interrtipted her. "Your son?"

67

She was taken aback by my sudden question, real-

ized what she had said, and became confused.

I muttered an apology. "You were saying?"

"Mr. Shin told me you know Mr. Indoe Park?"

"Do you also know him?"

"No, I've never seen him but I've heard much about

him. I knew his father well."

"Then you know what their relationship was."

"It was sad," she said. "Do you know how your

friend feels about his father now? Is he still angry

with his father, do you think?"

I hesitated for a moment. "No, I don't think he is,"

I said.

"I am so glad to hear that. You see, my son lost his

father when he was seven, so I had to work to send

him through school. He went to a missionary school

here and became a Christian, and was baptized by

your friend's father. My son wanted to be a minister, so Mr. Park helped him through the seminary. He was

always kind to us and when my son finished the semi- nary, Mr. Park himself ordained him. Then all of a

sudden this war." She broke into sobs.

I could not help saying, "You have been speaking

to me about Mr. Hann, haven't you?"

She covered her face with her chapped hands. "Yes,

I am his mother," she said.

^^^;i^^^^^;i^^;i^;^;^ 10

WHEN I RETURNED to headquarters, I was met by my orderly. I was wanted by Colonel Chang, who

had a visitor with him. After making a routine check

with the duty officer, I went upstairs to the chiefs

oflSce and found them standing near the stove. When

they both turned to me, I could not fail to recognize

the visitor; it was Chaplain Koh. I was not at all sur-

prised to see him there with Colonel Chang; I was,

perhaps, more amused. He appeared to recognize me

and I thought he looked puzzled as he scrutinized me

while the colonel introduced us. We shook hands. Neither of us spoke a word. The coal stove emitted a

stale air; it was stifling in the hot and smoky room.

"He is an old acquaintance of mine," the colonel

said, "and it might interest you to know that he is a

good friend of Mr. Shin's." He turned to the chaplain.

"Aren't you?"

68

69

Chaplain Koh smiled at me, and said, "A pleasant

surprise, indeed, that Mr. Shin is a mutual friend of

ours. He and I went to the same seminary and we

were ordained together. Have you been acquainted

with him long?"

"I wouldn't call myself a friend of Mr. Shin's," I

replied. "I don't know him well enough."

"I see," he said; then, after a pause, "I am afraid

he hasn't fully recovered from his past suffering. I

assume you know that he was in a Communist prison.

It seems to me my poor friend feels quite mortified

that he survived the Reds' persecution. ... I mean

that he . . . you know, the twelve martyrs ..."

I looked at the colonel.

"He knows all about it," the colonel said, to me.

Then to the chaplain, "That's a pity. He shouldn't

feel that way."

"Ah well, I can understand him," said the chaplain.

"I would feel the same way if I were in his place."

"You clergymen," the colonel said, shaking his

head.

"After all, my dear military friends," said the chap-

lain, "we clergymen share a stronger spiritual bond

than yours, if you don't mind my telling you so." He

smiled.

"I can hardly disagree with you there," the colonel

said. "I am sure Captain Lee feels the same way. The

70

fellowship in the service of God ought to mean more

than the fellowship in the service of a state—if you believe in God, that is."

I spoke to the colonel. "I was told that you wanted

to see me, sir."

With a nod, he said, "I want you to look after the

chaplain. He is going to be with us for a week or so,

and I want you to make sure he is comfortable here."

"I hope I won't be a burden to you," the chaplain

said to me.

"I asked him to represent the Army," said the

colonel.

"I beg your pardon, sir?" I said.

"The Christians are planning a joint memorial serv-

ice for the twelve martyrs, and several ministers who

are on the preparation committee asked me for help.

Of course, I promised them that I would do all I

can."

"But, Colonel, how do they know?" I said.

"About what?"

"About the twelve, sir."

"Oh, that. I've told them."

"You haven't made it public yet, sir. Are you going

to announce it officially?"

"Sooner or later."

"What about the two ministers?"

"What about them? Is there anything you want to

suggest?"

71

"Nothing in particular, sir. I merely wanted to know

what you propose to do with them." I turned to the

chaplain. "Excuse us, but we are talking about Mr.

Shin and Mr. Hann."

"Is there anything wrong with them?" the chaplain

said, frowm'ng.

"Nothing that I know of," said the colonel.

I could not help wondering what his game was now.

"Captain, you and the chaplain will represent the

Army for the memorial service," the colonel contin-

ued. "Of course, both of you will be on the prepara-

tion committee. He will cooperate with the ministers

in the city and you'll take care of, say, logistic prob-

lems. We'll discuss it in more detail later on."

"It will be my great pleasure to work with you,"

the chaplain said to me.

"I am sure it wiU be a very rewarding experience

for both of you," the colonel said.

"Is that all, sir?" I said.

"The chaplain is going to use my office for his tem-

porary stay, so why don't you get him a camp bed."

He looked at the chaplain. "I hope you don't mind

sleeping here. We'll try to get you a more comfortable

place in a day or so."

I asked the colonel, "Sir, do you think, perhaps,

I should contact, say, the local YMCA? I should think that they might be able to find a better place."

"Please don't trouble yourself about me," said the

72

chaplain. "After all, I am in the Army and I am used

to sleeping anywhere. I should hesitate to trouble

the Christians here. They have enough problems of

their own and I don't want to impose on them. Please

don't worry about me. I'll be most comfortable in

this room."

"Yes, we in the Army can take care of ourselves,"

the colonel said, "Not that Chaplain Koh doesn't know

anyone in the city. He had a church here before the

war, in case you didn't know, and that's how I got to

know him."

"Colonel Chang saved my life," the chaplain said.

"At that time—a year and a half ago, wasn't it Chaplain?—I was in charge of the Army's Intelli- gence network in the Pyongyang area, and my old

friend here was invaluable to our operation. Do you

realize that he was more daring than any of the men

I sent here? Why, I even had to slow him down!"

"Now, now, let's not get into that," said the chap-

lain. "I only did what my conviction dictated, that's

aU."

Colonel Chang chuckled. "Captain, do you know

that I had to have my men kidnap him? Can you

imagine my men spiriting him out of Pyongyang?"

"Now, really," the chaplain said, with a sudden,

severe frown.

Colonel Chang ignored his protest. "The truth of

73

the matter is that the Reds got wind of our operation.

We learned that from a double agent we had planted

in their Counterintelligence. They were about to take

a crack at our network. It all happened so fast I

barely had enough time to tell the chaplain to get out.

To my surprise, he refused to go underground. Too

proud, you know. So, I had to kidnap him, so to speak,

and whisk him off to the South."

Chaplain Koh iQxed an impassive gaze upon the

colonel.

Colonel Chang shrugged. "I couldn't let them shoot

you, could I? You were too valuable to be made a

martyr."

"Martyr? Were there any casualties?" I said.

Colonel Chang waved his hand. "Ah, enough of the

past."

Chaplain Koh looked angry, but he said quietly,

"Yes, Captain, we had casualties. I had to abandon

four men. They were all shot later by the Reds."

"Enough, enough," said the colonel. "I couldn't do

anything about it. I did my best." He turned to the

chaplain. "And there was nothing you could do

either. . . . Come, come, we should be more concerned

with what we have to do right now. And that reminds

me of the talk I've had with several Christian leaders

here. I regret to say that they don't have any con-

structive ideas. They don't seem to have the fighting

74

spirit. Now, that's why I asked you to come here,

Chaplain. They need a man Uke you to help them

stand on their own feet."

Chaplain Koh looked preoccupied.

"We must revive the Christian church here, and

they need our help," Colonel Chang went on. "They

need moral support from the South Korean Christians

and from the Army, too. More than anything else,

they need leaders who can initiate vigorous action.

You see, they are suffering from the loss of their lead-

ers. And I am sure the memorial service will help

them greatly. Let's understand this: after all, we are

all fighting Communists and in this joint operation,

you might say, we need each other. We help Cliris- tians, and they help us."

"It was very good of you to have initiated the idea

of the memorial service for the Christians," said the

chaplain matter-of-factly.

Colonel Chang continued placidly, "The twelve

martyrs are a great symbol. They are a symbol of the

suffering Christians and their eventual spiritual

triumph. We mustn't let the martyrs down. We must let everyone witness their spiritual victory over the

Reds."

"The Christians here are still suffering from the

sickness left by the persecution," the chaplain said

quietly, as though speaking to himself.

75

Colonel Chang tapped him on the shoulder, smil-

ing. "Ah, they need new wine to fill the old bottles."

Standing between them, with my back turned to the smoky stove, I had no other desire at that moment

than to go to bed.

The Marine lieutenant called me shortly after I

returned to my oflBce. Park had been transferred to

Marine Corps Headquarters a few days ago, but the

lieutenant could not locate him there. He was on leave.

No one seemed to know where he was.

lfi;^^^^^^^l^;i^^;i^^ 11

j

WHEN CHAPLAIN KOH came down to my office, a little past midnight, I had just finished working on

the weekly report and was about to retire. He was still

in his uniform. He apologized for disturbing me when

I offered him a chair near the stove. I asked him if

there was anything he wanted me to do for him. He

rephed that he was well taken care of. For a moment,

we looked at each other without a word, then he shook

his head and blurted out:

"You surprised me. Fve been thinking about you

ever since Colonel Chang left me in peace."

I could not help smiling. "So he left you in peace."

He grinned. "As you know, I saw you at Mr. Shin's

last night. Should I have recognized you in the colo-

nel's office?"

I shrugged.

"Why didn't you mention that you had seen me?"

76

77

"And why didn't you?" I asked.

"I was too busy speculating. I thought you didn't

want Colonel Chang to know that you were at Mr.

Shin's last night."

"I don't see why you should have thought so," I

said. "But, anyway, that was very considerate of

you."

"Oh, but it was you who were considerate of me.

After all, you saw me caught in an embarrassing posi-

tion at Mr. Shin's, and when I saw you tonight, I

needed time to think."

"We are very thoughtful of each other, aren't we?"

"Then we are friends," he said, smiling.

"Would you Uke to be?"

"Ah, you are a hard man," he said. "I understand

that you used to be a university instructor."

"Yes."

"I hope the Army hasn't succeeded in corrupting

you."

"Why do you say that?"

"What I mean is," he said, clearing his throat, "I

hope you are not yet capable of being too cynical or

too blindly professional."

I did not respond; somehow, he managed to sur-

prise me.

"I know, I know," he said, nodding. "You want to

know where I stand."

7S

"Perhaps." I said.

"I can see that you respect Mr. Sliin ver}' much.

Now, now, don't tr>' to deny it. 1 know you said you

hardly know him, but 1 know better. Or perhaps I

should say i know Mr. Shin better. I respect his judg-

ment and he seems to think highly of you. He told me

about you, by the way. I am not trying to flatter you,

nor am I trying to convince you that Mr. Shin

shouldn't have treated me the way he did. He was

quite justified in his evaluation of my past conduct."

"If you don't mind my telling you so," I said, "I

am hardly interested in your past conduct."

"Ah, you should be, you should be, with good rea-

sons. Many people used to think I was a Communist

informer. I don't need to say that they don't think so

any more. But they despise me. Some still think I was

a shameless coward who ran away from his church.

Some think I defiled the vocation of ministry by en-

gaging in intelligence activities—a spy, to put it more bluntly. And then some think I bet^-dyed my congre-

gation, generally speaking."

"Did you?"

"Yes, I did," he replied without hesitation. "Yes, I

betrayed them. When a pastor begins to be suspicious

of members of his congregation, even of his elders,

well, he is betraying them. I couldn't take anyone into

my confidence."

79

"Why couiatft you?"

"Fear, a simple fear."

"A justifiable one?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I spoke to you about the four

men I had to abandon. One of them was an informer,

and would you believe it, he was a son of one of my

elders?" He paused and studied my face. "You don't

have to believe me. As Colonel Chang told you, I

was forced to go underground, to run away from my

church. But I stayed in Pyongyang for two days be-

fore Colonel Chang's men could arrange our ren-

dezvous with a motorboat on the west coast, near the

port of Chinnampo. By that time. Colonel Chang, who

was a major then, knew who the informer was. He

didn't know his name, of course, because we used

code names for our agents. I knew who it was because

the code name was for one of my own men and I was

the only one who knew them all personally. I con-

tacted the three others to tell them to go underground.

Actually, what I intended was to take them to South

Korea with me. I had them meet me. A lieutenant, who was in charge of Colonel Chang's men, insisted

that we liquidate the informer. I had no choice. We arranged for the four men to meet us and we were

all set to go to the place of our rendezvous, when our

double agent informed us that the Reds had been

alerted. It was too late to warn the three men. We

80

found out later that the Reds had arrested all four,

but on their way to the police, they—our three men, that is—put up a fight and tried to escape. The Reds shot them, all four of them, on the spot, not knowing

that one of them was their own informer."

I interrupted him. "Why are you tell me all this?"

He ignored my question and went on. "Now, the elder believes that his son died a hero's death in the

cause. I saw the old man, you see. I went to the

service at my church—I should say, my former church. Of course, I wasn't welcomed; it's a miracle they

didn't turn me out. The old man didn't conceal his

hatred and disdain toward me, nor did many others.

Now, what would you do if you were in my place?"

I was startled by his abrupt and unexpected ques-

tion. "Why do you ask me?"

"To be frank with you, I don't care what others

think of me. I did what I had to do. I did what I

felt was the right thing. I am not in sympathy with

the notion of nonviolent resistance. I have no intention

of turning the other cheek to be slapped twice. Heav-

ens no! I am sorry but I don't admire those early

Christians who calmly—so the story goes—waited, praying, to be devoured by the howling beasts of

Roman emperors. I am more inclined to worship the

God of the Old Testament. I don't mind telling you

that most of those twelve martyrs really don't deserve

81

to be called martyrs at all. Why, they didn't lift a

finger to resist the persecution, they didn't do any-

thing to alleviate the suffering of the Christians in

North Korea. They were afraid, you see, so afraid

that they did not dare raise their voices. Their people

could not hear them, did not feel that their pastors

were waging a spiritual battle against the Reds, if not

a physical battle. And what sort of sermons did they

give? Pastoral, as though they were literally a bunch

of shepherds tending sheep, as though that would

convince the Reds that Christians were a harmless

bunch of sweet angels. And what happened? Fourteen

ministers are having a jolly good time at a dinner

celebrating the birthday of one of them, in come the

Reds to bag them all and shoot the twelve, all this

for no good reason, and one comes back alive as a

lunatic, and the other wishes he had been shot too so

that he could be a martyr. Sheer nonsense! But I am

glad that Mr. Shin survived because I still think of

him as my best friend, no matter how he despises me."

"Does he despise you?"

"He used to," he said thoughtfully. "Yes, he used

to."

"What do you mean?"

"As I said, I don't care what others think of me," he

said. "But there is one opinion I care for. Mr. Shin's.

I couldn't bear to think that he, too, despised me.

82

So, when I saw him last night, I told him aU about

myself and about the^lder, and asked for his advice.

"I told him the truth of the matter," the chaplain

continued. "You see, I was getting tired of playing

the role of a saint or a Judas, whichever way you look

at it. I thought I had enough of the conceited elder

and the others. So I told him I was going to expose

the entire situation. Not because I wanted to clear

myself but because I couldn't take any more of the

idiotic notion of meek suffering and false pride of

these North Korean Christians, who call me a coward,

a renegade, and what not. They are sick. Captain;

they are still paralyzed by the spiritual disease they

caught from submitting obediently to persecution.

And now that they are liberated, what do they do?

Nothing but talk.

"Well, Mr. Shin was angry. I don't quite know why.

Perhaps, he was angry at seeing me in uniform and

meddling with what he calls the affairs of those who

advocate violence in the name of justice. But I think

he was more angry at my intention to strip the elder

of his glorious illusion so that he should face the truth

about his damnable son. So he says, Think of what

might happen to the old man.' And I say, 'What do I

care?' He says, 'He is an old man and he needs what

you call the glorious illusion. How would you dare

to make the old man suffer more! He lost his son, no

83

matter for what reason, and that itself is an unbear-

able pain. But he has been able to overcome that pain

because he believes that his son died as a hero and

because others believe so too.' So I say, 'And what

do you want me to do? Do you want me to go on

conceding that his son was a real hero? Do you want

me to go on telling a lie, because not speaking out the

truth amounts to lying, a nice little lie so that the old

man and all of you can keep on despising me?' He

didn't know what to say to that. I pressed him hard.'*

"Did he say anything at all?"

"At last, he said I should leave him alone. I told

him I was confused. I am confused. I'd like to know

what to do. Do you know what Mr. Shin said? 'I am

as confused as you are, perhaps, more,' he said. I

asked him why. He wouldn't answer. He merely said

that he was praying, praying for an answer to his con-

fusion, whatever it is all about. 'You ought to pray

more,' he said. What do you think of all this?"

"I don't understand," I admitted. "Does Colonel

Chang know about the elder?"

He shook his head. "No, of course not. I wouldn't

dare tell him."

"Why not? Don't you think he could make it all

very simple for you?"

Chaplain Koh smiled. "My dear Captain Lee, I

84

want you to remember that I don't let him operate in

the domain of my private life."

"Then why are you revealing your private life to

me?"

"Because you interest me."

"I don't think I have done anything to deserve your

interest," I said. "I am getting as confused as you

are, although for different reasons."

He stood up. "No, you haven't done anything. It's

Mr. Shin."

I also stood up. "I don't follow you at all."

"As I said, I respect his judgment," he said. "I have

known him for many years and I was once his best

friend. I may disagree with him on certain principles

but that does not mean I don't value his advice."

"Did he give you any advice?"

"He suggested that you might be interested in hear-

ing about my personal problem and might even be of

help to me."

He touched my arm. "I suppose I may tell you this.

Mr. Shin said you must have been deeply hurt by the

terrible injustice and despair that break the hearts of

people.

"Well, good night. Captain," he said, when I failed

to respond.

We shook hands at the door. Footsteps echoed in

the dim hallway. Chaplain Koh said in a whisper, for

f

85

the duty oflScer was coming up the stairway, "May I

ask you again? What would you do if you were in my place?"

I met his eyes as bravely as I could. "Do you think

that was what Mr. Shin might have had in mind, for

you to put that question to me?"

He nodded.

"I would tell the truth. Chaplain," I declared.

"Truth cannot be bribed."

"How I envy you!" he said. "How I envy your

youth!**

;^^^^^^^;^^;^^^^ 12

NEXT MORNING, I attended the briefing at half- past nine, as usual, and was listening to the report

concerning the encounters of our patrols with Chi-

nese Communist soldiers on the western front, when

I was wanted on the phone. I went to the desk of the

duty officer at the entrance to headquarters.

"A call from K-10-9, Captain," said the Ueutenant

on duty. K-10-9 was an Air Force base across the

river.

"Captain Lee speaking,** I said.

"Can you come and pick me up, so I can report for

temporary duty—to you?" It was Park.

I called the chief to inform him that I would not

be in the office for some time, and told him of Park's

arrival, of which, apparently he had already been

notified by Naval InteUigence.

86

87

"I understand he is assigned to you, is he not?" he

said.

I repUed that I was grateful for his kind considera-

tion.

"Why thank me? You ought to thank the Navy,"

he said. "Anyway, tell your friend how sorry I am

about his father. I was well briefed on him and I

would like to meet him. Bring him up when you can,

wiU you. And take good care of him while he's with

us."

Putting the receiver down, I wished, for the first

time since the war, that I was back at my university.

Outside the window the gray morning hung low, blur-

ring the city. In the sky, dirty clouds flew over the

church. The beU clanged faintly.

Chaplain Koh walked in with a folded newspaper

in his hand, and thrust it into my hand. He shook his

head, muttering, "I simply don't understand."

I did not look at the paper. I wanted to be alone.

"I am talking about Mr. Shin," he said. "I don't

understand him. I knew Colonel Chang was suspicious

of him. But I trusted Mr. Shin. He told me he wasn't

there. He told me he knew nothing about it."

"What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about the execution of the twelve

ministers, Mr. Shin told me that he and Mr. Hann had

been jailed separately from the others, so they didn't

know anything about the execution. I know Colonel

88

Chang believes differently. But I trusted Mr. Shin's

words. Could he have lied to me? How could he, though?" He took the paper back from me, spread it

open, and put it on the desk. "Here. Read this. It's

all over the city."

On the front page of the Freedom Press, a local

paper, appeared the following article—a public an- nouncement by the preparation committee for the

joint memorial service:

It was announced by the Army Counterintelli-

gence Corps that the Army Intelligence Authority is

in possession of sufficient evidence that twelve North

Korean Christian ministers were murdered by the

North Korean puppet regime's secret police, on the

morning of June 25 at half-past twelve, only a few

hours before the outbreak of the Korean War. Eight

ministers from Pyongyang, including the Reverend

Park, an eminent leader of the Christians in North

Korea, and six ministers from the provinces had

been arrested by the Reds on an alleged charge of

"counterrevolutionary activities." It is believed that

the murder was planned by the Internal Security

Bureau of the puppet regime and was carried out by

the Pyongyang secret police.

Of the fourteen ministers arrested only two min-

isters survived. The Reverends Shin and Hann of Pyongyang were present as the murder took place,

and they witnessed the tragic last moments of the

twelve martyrs.

89

We, on behalf of the Christian churches of all

faiths of Pyongyang, now announce that prepara-

tions are under way for a joint memorial service to

commemorate the twelve martyrs. It is to be held at

the First Presbyterian Church at two in the after-

noon on Tuesday, the twenty-first of November. To

honor the families of the martyrs, transportation and

other facilities are being made available to them

through the generous cooperation of the Army au-

thorities, so that they will be able to be present at

the memorial service.

It is sincerely hoped that the citizens of this city

will attend the service, regardless of their religious

aJB&Uations, so that we can all share in the memory of

our martyrs, who, for the cause of our everlasting

freedom, shed their noble blood in glorious testi-

mony of the suffering Christians and their eventual

spiritual triumph over the Reds' persecution. Let

us all remember the twelve martyrs.

A dozen or so names of the members of the com- mittee followed the announcement. Among them were

Chaplain Koh as the chairman of the committee. Park

as the representative of the families of the martyrs,

and myself as the liaison officer.

Chaplain Koh glared at me, as if the article were

my doing. I put the paper in my pocket, walked out

of my office, and drove off to the air base, confused

and angry.

i^^^^^^^^^^;!^^^ 13

PARKA-CLAD OFFICERS and men, shuflaing to and fro and in and out, crowded the smoke-filled wait-

ing room of the air base operations building. Lx)ud-

speakers bellowed, red and blue signal lights flashed,

buzzers hummed, and the screech of jet fighters out

on the runways cut through the murmuring voices.

Park and I shook hands and examined each other

briefly; then he plunged into the matter on hand with

the flat declaration, "What is this all about?"

I produced the newspaper, suggesting that he read

the announcement of the preparation committee for

the memorial service.

He merely glanced at it. "I know, I know. I've read

it in Seoul." The article seemed to have been pub-

licized simultaneously in both South and North

Korean papers. "I knew it wasn't your doing. I know

you better than that." His left eye squinted sUghtly

90

91

as he tried to smile. "I must admit, though, I nearly

went back to Pusan when I read my name."

He had not changed much; he was as lean as ever,

and as austere in his manner. His lips were closed

tensely as I had always noted with a vague feeling of

compassion; only the haughty sparkle of his eyes had

given way to a brooding I had seldom observed be-

fore. For the first time I felt sorry for him.

He looked at me wearily and said, "Let's not talk

about it yet, shall we? All I want now is to take a

look at whatever is left of my home town. It has been

ten years since I saw it last."

We left the base; we did not speak much while we were driving into the city.

It was a little before noon when we arrived in my

office. We took off our helmets, parkas, and pistols, then settled down in the chairs around the stove. Park

Ughted a cigarette; his left hand was visibly unsteady.

"How's your arm?" I said.

"Oh, aU right," he said with a faint smile on his

weather-beaten face. "How's your knee?"

"Fine," I said, looking at the stamped emblem of an

anchor and the initials of the Korean Marine Corps

KMC—over the left pocket of his dark-green fatigue jacket. He stood up and went over to the window.

I joined him. Outside, it was as gray as ever. At the

92

moment, there was no traflBc; no people were working

in the ruins. It seemed hushed around the church.

"So, he is gone," he said quietly. "A martyr."

We stood there silently for some time, looking out. When we returned to our chairs, Park sat hunched,

his clenched fists on his knees. "You know, of course,"

he said, "I refuse to have anything to do with the

memorial service."

'Then why did you come?" I said. The harshness

of my voice surprised me.

He did not flinch. "Why did I come?" he said re-

flectively. "I knew you would ask that question."

The telephone rang. Colonel Chang wanted to know

if Park was there with me. "I would like to meet

him," he said, "but I am occupied at the moment and

I'll try to see him later on. Meanwhile, I suggest you

take him to Mr. Shin. I am terribly sorry about his

father and perhaps he is anxious to learn more about

the tragic death. I can't think of anyone who could

shed more Ught on it than Mr. Shin. Give my best

regards to your friend, won't you? And by the way,

do you know where Chaplain Koh is? No? Well, that

is all."

I turned to Park. "It was the chief," I said. "Colonel

Chang."

"I've heard about him," he said indifferently.

"He wants to see you."

93

"I couldn't care less. Do you want me to meet him?"

"Not for the time being. I'll take you to him when

I think you should see him."

There was a knock on the door and my orderly

came in. An old woman was waiting to deUver a letter

to me personally. I excused myself and went down-

stairs. It was Mrs. Hann.

I took her into the duty officer's booth. She broke

into tears as she handed me the letter, crying, "You

must help him! You must help Mr. Shin!"

The short note said:

Dear Captain Lee:

I should Uke to see you again. If you could come

to me at the earliest opportunity, I shall be most

grateful. I am hoping that you could help me in a certain matter that concerns your friend Park.

Yours truly,

Shin

"What does it say?" asked Mrs. Hann, drying her

face.

"He wants me to come to the house."

"Then you must come at once," she burst out, "and

do something about it." She was unable to control

her agitation; she was nearly hysterical.

I asked her to try to compose herself and tell me

what had happened.

"I don't know what's really happening," she said.

94

"But I've never seen so many people coming to see

Mr. Shin all at once. The house was full of people

this morning. They are stUl there, I am sure—people from the church. Newspapermen, too, taking pictures

of him and all that. It was maddening and he's cough-

ing terribly but he saw everyone. You read the paper,

didn't you?"

I nodded. "So you read it, too."

"Someone came to the house very early this morn-

ing. He brought the paper and after he'd gone, Mr.

Shin wanted me to read it. It's true. Mr. Shin told me

all about it."

"Did he?"

"He and my son were there and saw everything that

happened," she said, searching my face. "Then people

from the church started coming. That Army chaplain,

too. They all wanted to know why Mr. Shin had told

them before that he didn't know anything about what

happened to the other ministers." She paused, looking

at me meekly. "What do you think will happen? What

do you think will happen to Mr. Shin and my son?"

"Did he tell you anything about your son?"

"He only said that it was too much for my son, and

that's why . . ." she stopped and began to cry again.

I tried my best to comfort her. "Did Mr. Shin say

anything to the people from the church?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing. He just let them

talk."

95

"And he wasn't angry?"

"No. I wish he had been. He had nothing to say to

them. That's what he said. One man even asked him

why he'd been teUing them a he! Oh, I couldn't stand

it!"

I told her that I would drive to the house with her.

I had her take a chair and wait for me. I ran upstairs

to my oflSce, and found Park standing near the win-

dow, looking out. He turned to me.

"You asked me why I came," he said gravely. "I

want to see Mr. Shin. That's why I came."

"Why do you want to see him?" I said. "What do

you want from him?"

"Just one thing. I want to find out how he died,"

he said quickly. There was nothing in the tone of his

voice that I might have called sentimental or pious;

it was a.flat statement uttered matter-of-factly.

"I thought you wanted nothing to do with your

father," I said.

"I seem to surprise you," he said dryly. "I am sur-

prised at myself. He was a fanatic, as you know. And

I dislike fanatics. We had nothing in common. I sel- dom thought about him. But now that he's dead, I

am obsessed with his death. I don't care whether he is

a martyr or a hero. That is not my concern. I want to

find out if he died as a fanatic, as faithful as ever to his

image of himself as the most righteous servant of God

on earth. I believe that is what he thought himself to

96

be. And I want to know if he died witii his image un-

shattered.

"Am I too harsh?" he added gloomily. "He is a martyr now," I said. "You must remember

that."

"No matter. I only want to know if there was any-

thing in the last days of his life that I might share with

him." He paused.

"Go on."

"If there is nothing, then we remain strangers to

each other forever."

"But why such an obsession?"

His eyes were burning with intensity. "When we saw

each other for the last time, I told him that he, too,

was not infallible. The sooner he realized it, the better

for the true salvation of his soul, since that's what he

wanted. Yes, I told him that, and now the thought

possesses me. Can you understand that?

"I am not interested in the ordinary, mundane sort

of father-and-son relationship. I am not even inter-

ested in the fact that I am his disowned son. I am

concerned with him as a fanatic, a God-drunk man.

He never stopped to examine himself dispassionately,

not even when he felt he had to disown me. He

thought he was always right. He never doubted his

faith in his god and never, for one moment, suspected

that he and his god might not be in as harmonious a

97

state as he always believed." He turned to point to

the mined church. "That was his world."

"Have you ever examined yourself," I said, "well

. . . dispassionately?"

"Many times."

"Don't you think, then, that he might have before

the end?"

He swung around impatiently. "That's what I want

to see Mr. Shin about."

"Leave him alone!" I said. It shocked me to hear

myself shouting. "Just leave him alone for a while."

He looked at me in surprise.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I want to tell you about Mr.

Shin, but there's no time now. I have to go to see

him."

"And you don't want me to come along, do you?"

Park said.

"Not now," I said, ashamed of my outburst. "I will let you know when you can see him."

;^^^^^^;i^^^^;^;^;i^ 14

AFTER THANKING ME for my prompt response to his note, Mr. Shin said, "I was a bit surprised to

learn from Chaplain Koh that Park is here in the

city." Trying not to cough, he cleared his throat, and

forced a smile on his pale face.

I said that Park's arrival had taken me by surprise,

too.

"Then you did not plan it," he said.

"No."

"I didn't think you would have arranged for him to

come, shall we say, to play a role in the memorial

service. How does he feel about it?"

"He won't have anything to do with it. It is absurd

that he, of all people, should be asked to represent the

families of the martyrs."

"But it did not seem absurd to your colonel."

"He is anxious for Park to see you."

98

99

"Isn't that why he brought him here?"

"That you might have something to tell him?"

"Perhaps. Chaplain Koh feels that his appearance

at this particular time was arranged by your colonel

to embarrass me."

"Are you," I said with some hesitation, "embar-

rassed?"

"No."

"Do you have something you would like to tell

Park?"

He did not answer.

I pressed him. "Would you like to see him?"

"Do you think I ought to?" he said. "Or rather,

Captain, is he prepared to see me?"

An uncomfortable silence fell between us. Through

the dusty window, I could see that the sky had not

cleared. The snow-laden branches of the crooked pine

trees, seen through the uneven windowpanes, swelled

and shrank, wavering in the wind. Mrs. Hann tiptoed

in, served us tea, and withdrew.

Putting his cup down on the small table next to his

chair, he said, "What the newspaper said about me is

quite true."

I remained silent.

"I was there at the execution of the ministers," he

said firmly as though he wanted to make sure that I

100

would not disbelieye his words. "Your colonel is not

making it up."

"Meaning . . .?" I said.

"Meaning I lied to you," he said quietly.

"You lied to everyone."

"Yes. I do not insist that my conscience is impec-

cable."

"I should be angry," I said.

"With me or with your colonel? Don't be. He is

only doing what he has to do."

"You sound as if you felt grateful for what he is

doing to you."

Without hesitation, he said, "I am thankful to him."

"He has exposed you as a liar."

"Yes, he has."

"Now, everyone knows that you have been lying."

"Yes."

"And that is what you want?" I said. "It's a serious

matter, isn't it, Mr. Shin, for a man like you to admit

he has lied?"

"Yes. Very serious."

"You have managed to shock people. When they

recover from the shock and from the inevitable con-

fusion, they will come to you to ask why you have

lied to them."

"They already have."

101

"And you have nothing to say to them?"

"No."

"They ask you what it was that persuaded you to

he, and you have nothing to say to them."

"Nothing."

"So they can only think you must be guilty of some-

thing, isn't that right?"

He did not reply; he merely continued to sip his

tea, his calm gaze fixed upon me.

"But, Mr. Shin," I said, "those who know you well

may be convinced that you are not guilty of anything,

speaking in human terms, of course. You know that.

So they will come to the conclusion that there must

be something you do not intend to tell."

He lowered his eyes as if pained.

"Yes, you may be innocent," I said, "innocent of

the kind of guilt people like Colonel Chang can

imagine. But those who knew you well may come to

realize that what you do not intend to tell may be the

truth about the execution." I stopped, disturbed by

the tone of accusation in my voice, and above all by

what I was about to say; but there was no way to

retreat. "And that, Mr. Shin, is what you have been

hoping for."

"Enough!" he whispered.

"Isn't it true," I insisted, "that you have been

102

secretly wishing others might begin guessing the truth,

which you yourself do not want to tell?"

A flash of anger shot from his eyes; then he looked away.

I could not restrain myself. "What are you trying to

do?" I said. "Run away from the truth? Or, hide it

from the others?"

"Neither," he said in a weary whisper.

"Are you sure?"

"I am guarding it."

"Who are you to act as the guardian of the truth?"

Suddenly, I felt tired. "For whom are you guarding

it? For whom, Mr. Shin?"

He looked out the window. It had begun snowing.

"For the Church? For the Army?" I demanded.

He remained impassive.

"Or, for your god?"

To my surprise and uneasiness, a sudden, quick

convulsion seized him; his face and throat twitched;

his eyes were closed. When, a moment later, he turned

and gazed at me, I saw that his eyes were filled with

tears. In a hoarse whisper, he said, "Captain, please

do not force me to blaspheme."

A feeling of exasperation overwhelmed me. "Mr. Shin, they have asked for it. Why don't you tell them

the truth?"

He stood up, clutching at the cup and the saucer,

103

and in a voice that was at once stern and gentle he

said,

"My young friend, has it ever occurred to you that

they may not want the truth?"

^^l^l^l^^^l^^^^l^}^ 15

PARK HAD NOT waited for my return from Mr. Shin's. The note he had left on my desk said he had

borrowed a jeep from the Marine Uaison officer and

gone out to take a look around the city.

The snow was getting heavier, the sky darker.

Through the window I saw columns of medium tanks,

their guns prostrate, crawl past the ruins, trailed by

another column of howitzers, northbound. The snow

soon covered the tracks left by the heavy treads.

Silence returned to the streets, and with it the brood-

ing afternoon of a dreary northern city.

Hours went by monotonously. Alone in my office,

I took care of the routine business of my section and

administrative matters of headquarters. There were

reports to draft, papers to sign; and then ±ere was

the meeting with the officers of my section, during

which I had a telephone call from Colonel Chang. He

104

105

wanted to know where Chaplain Koh was. I could not

help him; I had not seen the chaplain all afternoon.

He hung up without a word, only to call me back a

few minutes later to say that he wanted to see me

immediately.

In his cavernous room, silent behind the desk, Colo-

nel Chang sat crouched, immobile; only the hissing of

the stove and its flickering light that flitted about his

glasses and his monkish head appeared to have no-

ticed my entrance. He did not look up at me; I might

just as well not have been there. Finally the telephone

on his desk roused him. He took the call with a few

grunting words of approval and disapproval, then

slammed the receiver down. Rising briskly from his

chair, he came around the desk toward me, exclaim-

ing, "Well, we've got him!"

"Got whom, sir?"

"It was CIC," he said, shoveling more coal into the

stove. "I've been waiting for this. They reported the

capture of a Red major who had been with the Pyong-

yang secret police." He paused to wipe his hands with

a handkerchief. "He confessed that he knew some-

thing about the murder of the ministers."

The colonel was unmistakably excited.

"Well, don't you have anything to say? Do you

realize what it may mean to us?"

I congratulated him on the lucky turn of events.

106

"We shall soon find out more about your friend,

Shin," he said, holding his hands over the stove.

"What do you say to that?"

"I don't know what more we can leam about him,

sir," I said.

"Ah, you will be surprised. I promise you that!"

"I presume you think this prisoner can produce in-

formation that will astonish us all . . . that is, in re-

spect to Mr. Shin."

"You imply that you know enough about Shin."

"Don't you, sir?"

"No."

"I am afraid I fail to understand you, sir," I said.

"After reading the announcement of the preparation

committee, I assumed that you had already made up

your mind about him."

"It's not as simple as that."

"I beg your pardon, sir, but I thought it was."

He ignored my remark.

"I saw Mr. Shin this afternoon," I said. "So did

others, including many Christians in the city, of

course."

"I know."

"He had no comment on the announcement except

to say it was true."

"So I heard," he muttered, and repeated it in a

voice that echoed weariness unusual for him. "So I

heard."

107

"Doesn't that satisfy you?" I said. "He has admitted

that he had been telling a lie. That's what it all comes

to, isn't it, sir?"

He said quickly, "I knew that!"

"I didn't. It came to me as a surprise."

He glowered at me. "I am very sorry, Captain."

"Don't mention it. Colonel," I said. "After all, one

can never be too sure of anything in our line of busi-

ness."

"You are being rather humorous."

"Not at all, sir."

"Then I take it that you are dead serious."

"Yes, sir."

He looked away and stared at the stove. For a

while, he was silent, hands clasped behind him. The

red light, wriggling out of the stove, darted at his

shadowy profile. He turned to me with a faint smile.

"All right, Captain. If you are as dead serious as I

am, then I assume that you are now ready to come

out in the open and tell me what you think of Shin."

I said straight away, "Yes."

"Good! But before you tell me what you think of

him, you may do well to speculate upon the possible

causes for his silence."

"What would you expect him to say, sir? Or, should

I say, what did you expect him to say?"

"I have never met him, but I know him well. I

have heard enough about him; indeed, so much so

108

that I am reasonably convinced he is a pious man, a

good Christian, that is. I am also convinced he has

always been a man who enjoyed the unconditional

reputation of having an immaculate conscience. Now,

a good Christian shouldn't tell a lie, should he? But

he did. So we are now beholding a pious Christian

with an immaculate conscience who pubUcly admits

that he has been a liar. The curious thing is that he

neither justifies himself nor indicates any sign of

remorse. What we see about him is nothing but a

glorious halo of supreme confidence, and I daresay

I must give him some credit for that, although he

gives me no other choice than to line up two possible

explanations for his remarkable behavior. First, his

conscience is as clear as it can be, despite his lying.

Second, his conscience is as corrupt as it can be. Of

course, I am not simpleminded enough to exclude any

other possible explanations. For the moment, however,

these two seem to provide me with enough to specu-

late upon. Now, you wouldn't accept the second ex-

planation, would you?"

"No."

"Ah, it was stupid of me to ask you that," he said

with a grin. "It may interest you. Captain, to know

that neither would I accept it. Don't be surprised to

hear that. It's a perfectly natural reaction on my part.

It is difficult, after all, to believe that a Christian min-

109

ister's conscience could be as stinking as a dead fish.

Mind you, I don't mean to say that it could never be

so. But let us assume, for the time being, that Shin's

conscience is quite clear. Are you satisfied?"

"Quite."

"Good! So we carve out a crystal-clear conscience

for him and, let us say, v^e intend to guarantee it for

him. We then have this business of his lie, which may tarnish his beatific conscience, and we can't let that

happen, now can we? We must insist that the fact

yes, the fact that he lied cannot spoil the purity of his

conscience, and that his act of lying has nothing to

do with the quality of conscience. But that may lead

us to an intriguing question as to what sort of con-

science we have just adorned him with. What do you

say?" He looked at me as though he were waiting for

my reply, but it was plain that he enjoyed his talk too

much, savored every word of it too much to allow me

to interrupt him. "How shall we justify the purity

and admirable tranquility of his conscience when we

have to admit, at the same time, that an act of lying

is, in principle at least, no credit to any man's con-

science?" He paused, then answered his own ques-

tion. "His is the sort of conscience that is immune to

this particular act of lying. Ah, there we are! That's

what we'll have to say."

I said, "If I recall, sir, you were to appeal to his

110

conscience. To which one did you mean to appeal,

granting that there are several kinds of conscience as

you seem to imply?"

"To the one that is not immune to this act of lying,

naturally. There is something you must always remem-

ber about him. He is a minister, a shepherd, as Chris-

tians call him. He can't go around telling his flock

that he is a poor shepherd, now can he? Or, should he?

Of course not. Well, there you are. He must let his

flock remain in its happy behef that he is not the sort

of shepherd who will take to his heels in the face of a

pack of wolves and leave the flock defenseless."

"Do you still insist that he gave in to the Commu-

nists and betrayed the other ministers?"

He did not answer.

"If you still do, sir, you have exposed the notion

to his flock that he is a poor shepherd," I said. "At

least from your point of view."

"I have indeed," he said.

"Are you disappointed that he does not, may I say,

confess his alleged guilt?"

"Yes! But not the way you think!" He walked away

from me to the window, where he stood looking out

into the snow-filled late afternoon. "I am disappointed

because he doesn't justify himself. Why doesn't he say something to clear himself?"

Why, indeed, I thought.

Ill

'Til tell you why,'* he said. "The conscience he is

relying on now tells Him that he is guiltless and,

therefore, he needs no defense for himself."

"In that case," I said, "you shouldn't be at all dis-

appointed."

"One minister alive is better than twelve ministers

dead! Is that what he thinks?"

I could not restrain myself. "Perhaps, he has some-

thing he doesn't want to say. Not for the sake of his

own interest, as you seem to be convinced, but for the

sake of others' interest, including yours, if I may say

so.

'"Nonsense! By what inscrutable magic could he

have survived the lions' den!"

"Sir, I repeat, I believe Mr. Shin is innocent."

He swung around. "Of course, he is! Of course he

is innocent! How can he be anything else?" He re- turned to the stove. "Are you surprised to hear me

say that? Don't be. If he isn't, he would not have been

able to enjoy the protection he now receives from his

conscience. He believes that he has done something

right by telling a lie and is still doing the right thing by

not saying anything more. It's this notion of self-

righteousness that gives him the halo of serenity, even

of pride. Ah, that's what gets on my nerves! I am not

accusing him, you understand. The real villain, Cap-

tain, in this whole business is neither he nor his act

112

of lying. On the contrary, it is what forced him to lie and yet allows his conscience to remain as spotless as

the soul of an angel—as Christians would say. Am I clear?"

The colonel was getting out beyond my depth.

"So you tell me Shin is innocent," he said. "And

you are sure, absolutely sure about that?"

"He is, sir," I insisted, but I had to add, "from our

point of view."

"Are you including mine?"

"Yes."

"Don't, because he is not from my point of view."

I reminded him that he himself had just declared a

moment ago that Mr. Shin was innocent.

"Ah, I didn't say he was innocent from my point of

view."

Perplexed, I burst out, "But you say you are not

accusing him and yet you don't think he is innocent.

You must be accusing somebody—the real villain, as you say."

He greeted me with a placid grin. "You are quite

right, Captain."

"May I ask what it is?"

"Why, my dear Captain, I am surprised that you

ask me what it is rather than who it is."

"Then, may I ask you who it is?"

"Don't you know?" he said, returning to his chair

113

which squeaked under the weight of his body. "Who

else but his god?" He chuckled. "Can't you picture

him on his knees, telling his god what he has done?

And his god, gently patting him on the back, says,

'It's all right, my dear boy. To err is human, to forgive

divine.' Well, what do you think of that?"

I had to laugh in spite of myself.

^^;^^^^;^;j^^^;^^^ 16

WHEN I LEFT Colonel Chang's office, I hoped to find Park in my room, but he was not there. There was

little I could do but stand in front of the window and

watch the gray North Korean afternoon swiftiy fade

into a bleak night. It had become windy. The snow

was turning into a blizzard, and I could hear the

church bell clanging now faintly, now violently. Foot-

steps echoed in the hallway, down the stairs, perhaps

toward the mess hall. My orderly came in; first, to clean the room, then with a bucketful of coal for the

night. Park still had not come back. I felt helpless

without him. I had decided, while listening to Colonel

Chang, to take him to Mr. Shin; the sooner the bet-

ter—I thought. Colonel Chang telephoned me from his office to ask

if I had seen Chaplain Koh. "Where on earth is he!"

he shouted. "I haven't seen him since last night. And

what about Park? Has he been to see Shin?"

114

115

I told him that, at my discretion, Park had not yet

met the minister.

"Ah, hang your discretion!" he grunted.

About half an hour later he called again, this time

from CIC. Again he asked after Chaplain Koh. He

swore. "The trouble with that man is he's too damned

sure of himself. Ah, I don't trust him."

There was nothing for me to say.

"I am waiting for a call from the Chief of Army

Intelligence," he said. "Have it transferred to CIC if

it comes through." After a pause he continued, "I

promised you a surprise from our new prisoner, didn't

I? I have something you might like to know and I

want you to think about it. The prisoner was quite

stubborn but we do have an efificient CIC, if you know

what I mean. From what he said, it appears that the

commandant of the Pyongyang secret police was liqui-

dated, presumably by the same firing squad that mur-

dered the ministers. Not only the commandant but

three top aides of his. The most curious angle is that

they were shot the day after the ministers were mur-

dered. Why? The prisoner insists he doesn't really

know, except that they were arrested immediately

after the murder and were shot by an order from

someone high up in their secret police. Now this is what astonishes me. The charges made against them

were counterrevolutionary activities in general and

116

insubordination in particular. How do you explain that? But what interests me most is that it took place

immediately after the murder of the ministers. Try

to figure that out. The prisoner is reviving now and

I am sure he has more to enhghten us with. If you

see Shin, and I expect you will, you might ask him

if he knew anything about this most significant event."

He hung up.

I felt bewildered. I could not see any possible con-

nection with the execution of the ministers, even

though the colonel apparently did, or at least was

trying to find such a connection.

By the time Park returned I was feeling pretty

glum. His face was haggard. I helped him out of his

frozen parka, and he slumped down on a chair. I poked

the stove.

"He's gone," he said, unbuckling his gun belt.

Alarmed, I said, "Who is gone?"

"Mr. Shin. He and Chaplain Koh have vanished.

Rather, the chaplain kidnapped Mr. Shin and the

young minister."

"Kidnapped?" It didn't make sense. I pulled up a

chair near the stove next to him.

"I just came back from Mr. Shin's house," Park

said. "It was too late. He had already gone."

"But where?"

"I don't know. After you left the office, our liaison 1

117

officer came in. He had been instructed to take care

of me. He said I could use his jeep while I was here.

So I started driving around. I thought I was feeling

a bit nostalgic, you know, having returned to my home

town after so many years of, let's say, exile. I was

wrong. I wasn't nostalgic at all. The place depressed

me. It was no use telling myself, 'Well, my dear, good

old home town, here I am. I am back.' I wasn't in a

mood for that kind of nonsense. Instead, I began

looking up the ministers I had known through my father. All I got from them was a pile of stock eulogies

for my father, a great martyr, a hero—and some pious sympathy for me. I was visiting one of them

Mr. Sung—when I ran into Chaplain Koh. I used to be well acquainted with the chaplain. The three of

us talked about Mr. Shin. Mr. Sung was worried

about him because of the rumor that some hot-blooded

members of the congregations of the murdered min-

isters were demanding justice. They were getting out

of hand, threatening either to confront Mr. Shin or

bring him to their churches and make him tell the

truth, that is, make him repent or confess his sins.

Ah, those Christians! While we were talking, a group

of them came to see Mr. Sung. They were heading

for Mr. Shin's house and they wanted him to come

with them. He tried to talk them out of it, but they

wouldn't Usten, even though they were from his own

118

congregation. They said others were joining them and

they were all going together. Chaplain Koh was

alarmed and wanted me to come with him to Mr.

Shin's at once. I knew you had something on your

mind when you asked me not to see him for a while,

so I stayed behind."

The telephone rang. It was Colonel Chang again.

He was still at CIC, and wanted to know if the chap-

plain had returned yet.

"No, sir," I replied. "I haven't the slightest idea

where he is. I would appreciate it. Colonel, if you tell

him that I would very much like to see him, that is, if

you find him before I do, sir."

"You are getting more and more humorous," he

grunted. "Never mind! I only wanted to have him

gather the ministers on the committee for a meeting.

Ah, hang him!"

"Can I do anything about that, sir? About the meet-

ing, I mean, I am the liaison oflBcer, after all."

"Forget it. I want you to go to see Shin. Tell him

I want to see him. Either he could come down to head-

quarters or I could go to his house. You arrange it."

My silence irritated him. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, I did," I said. "Sir, have you been able to

learn anything more from the prisoner?"

"Damn it, no! He's taking a long time off. Ah, we'll

beat it out of him soon enough."

119

I decided to break the news. "I am afraid you are

too late."

"What are you talking about?"

"You won't be able to see Mr. Shin," I told him.

"He has left the city, Colonel."

There was no response from him for a few seconds.

Then he shouted, "A damned fool! A coward!" With that outburst, he hung up.

"The colonel seems to be upset," I said, but Park

merely shrugged.

"To go on with what I was telling you," he said,

"after the chaplain left in a hurry, I got to worrying

about Mr. Shin and decided to go an>^ay, I was too

late. The mob was there, even if Mr. Shin wasn't, or

the young minister, only the old woman. They de-

manded to see Mr. Shin and when they were told he

wasn't there they broke into the house. Those good

Christians searched the whole house. Then they got

mad and began to smash the furniture, windows,

everything they could lay hands on. I found the old

woman outside in the snow, hysterical, while they

were literally tearing down the house inside. I tried to

talk them out of it, but nobody hstened to me.

"Meanwhile more people, mostly women, \sere

coming up the hill. They milled about the house chant-

ing hymns and screaming, 'Judas! Judas!' It was un-

canny. There they were, imagine, in the blizzard,

chanting crazily and screaming, 'Judas,' beating their

120

bodies, their poor ragged bodies—pouring out all their sorrows, all that had been simmering in their darkened

souls during the years of persecution. What passion!

What self-lacerating passion! I tell you—I didn't know whether to despise them—or love them. Ah, the lambs disfigured into a wailing mob!

"I tried again to send them back to wherever they

came from but they wouldn't listen to me. Finally I

fired a few shots in the air. That broke the spell. I told

them who I was. Well, who was I? The son of my

father, of course. Ah, my father's name—it was a magic word. Suddenly everything was hushed. They

listened to me, they literally adored me, the son of

the great martyr, who was one of them, one of the

persecuted. What did I tell them? I don't know. I just

talked, and after a while they went back down the

hill, still chanting, in the slashing snow and the wind.

"I was left alone with the old woman. She looked

nearly insane. She insisted she didn't know where Mr.

Shin was. At last, she told me the chaplain had come

to the house shortly before the Christians came and

had a big argument with Mr. Shin, about what, the

poor woman didn't know. Mr. Shin then told her he

was taking the young minister to a place where he

could be well taken care of. He told her he would

come back for her. Then the three of them got into

the chaplain's jeep and drove away. I think she knows

121

wHere they went. She might tell you. You seem to be

in her confidence. She pleaded with me that I bring

you to her."

I called my orderly and told him to get a box of

rations from the kitchen and come to my office, armed,

with his bedding; he was going to stay with the old

woman. We were ready to leave when Colonel Chang burst in. It was the first time he had ever come down

to my office to see me.

;^^^^^^^l^;^^^^^ 17

"I AM DUMBFOUNDED, I must confess," ex- claimed Colonel Chang. "You are Captain Park,

aren't you? I am happy to see you here, especially so

because I have always admired your father." He

paused to wipe his wet face and his glasses. "The

prisoner testified that he was one of those who had

interrogated—I mean tortured—the ministers. He swore that they all conducted themselves like heroes."

He turned to me. "Have you told Captain Park about

the execution of the commandant and his three aides

of the Pyongyang secret police?"

When I said I had not, he explained to Park, "Do

you realize that they were shot just because they had

murdered the ministers? Apparently, the Reds had

arrested the ministers for possible future use as hos-

tages. They were not supposed to be murdered—not without a special order from the chief of the secret

police."

122

123

"Then, why?" said Park.

"Ah, it's all beyond me," said the colonel. "The

commandant and his aides have a party one night and

get drunk. They come down to the jail, order some

prisoners out into the torture chamber, and beat them

up. They are not satisfied with that. They remember

they have Christians in the jail. They order the min-

isters out of their cells, beat them and herd them out

into a truck and off they go and murder them. Of

course, we can't really trust every single word the

prisoner said. For all I know, he might be trying to

win our favor. But that's what happened, according

to him. Next day, the chief of the secret police is

scandalized. He gets abused by his superiors. He gets

furious. He orders that the commandant and his aides

be shot—by the same firing squad that murdered the ministers the night before. Ah, it's all damned bloody.

And do you realize how they murdered the ministers?

One after another!"

He continued. "And how did Mr. Shin and the

young minister get out of it alive? I still don't under-

stand. The prisoner insists he telephoned the chief of

the secret police when he realized what the com-

mandant was up to. He says he never liked the com-

mandant. I asked him why. He just didn't like him, he

says. Anyway, he gets the order from his chief to stop

the commandant and if he resists the order, well, either

124

arrest him or shoot him on the spot. The prisoner goes

after the commandant with a squad of Red guards,

but he is a bit late. By the time he got around to

arresting the bloody butcher, only two ministers were

still alive."

"Divine intervention," I said.

Colonel Chang turned his tired face to me. "Cap-

tain Lee, I must see Mr. Shin immediately. You real-

ize how important it is for me to see him at once."

"He is not here, Colonel," I said. "I have told you

that."

"I know, I know," he said in agitation. "But

why?"

Park briefed him on what had happened at Mr.

Shin's house.

"But why?" Colonel Chang asked again, frowning.

"Why would he disappear like that? Why should he

run away?"

"I don't think he ran away. Colonel," I said.

Colonel Chang scrutinized me narrowly. "What do

you mean. Captain Lee, you don't think he ran away?

All right, what would you call it? Or maybe you know

something that I don't know?"

"I doubt that. Colonel. You already know I talked

with Mr. Shin today shortly before he left the city. He

didn't tell me he was going to leave; he hadn't even

thought of it, as a matter of fact; I'm sure of that. He

I

125

had nothing to say about why he had lied, I asked him

to tell the truth, which I suspected, with your permis-

sion. Colonel, concerned the circumstances involving

the execution." I paused and took a chair. "I presume

that the truth about the execution is what everyone

wants to know, including you, Colonel."

"Of course," Colonel Chang said. "So does Cap-

tain Park, I am sure."

Park paid no heed to his remarks.

"And so do I, sir," I said. "But, Colonel, are you

so sure that you want to know the truth about the

execution?"

"Now, come, come!" he said. "What are you talk-

ing about? We already know the truth. So it doesn't matter whether we want it or not, does it? We already have it. I have just told you how magnificently all the

ministers conducted themselves in their most diffcult

time. That's the truth, and I am sure anyone would be

proud to know it, except the Reds, of course."

I could not restrain myself from bursting out, "Sir,

are you saying Mr. Shin is a Red?"

He laughed. "Certainly not! What makes you think

that?"

"If the truth about the execution is as you described.

Colonel, if we should be proud of the executed min-

isters, then why did Mr. Shin tell me that we may not

want the truth? I assume that *we' includes everyone

126

concerned, you and Park and the Christians. Why,

Colonel, should a man like him beUeve that such a

glorious truth about the mmisters as you have pictured

may not be welcomed?"

Colonel Chang responded impatiently, "Did he say

that?"

"I am surprised, sir, that you still seem to suspect

Mr. Shin even when you insist that the truth about

the ministers is so magnificent. Or, are you excluding

Mr. Shin from their company?"

Tilting his head he stared at me.

Park said, "What I want to know is why everyone

should assume that the twelve were all such martyrs.

Is there any evidence that they were all good and

saintly, while the survivors were not? All we have is

your word, Colonel."

Colonel Chang retorted in a deliberately calm voice,

"Yes, you have my word. The martyrs were all good

and saintly."

"What about the survivors, sir?" I said.

"They were good and samtly, too," he said. Then

he suddenly exclaimed, "What you don't understand

is that there should be no doubt about the glory of

the martyrs. They were good and saintly. Why? Be-

cause they are martyrs. Because they were murdered

by the Reds. It is as simple as that. Now, what about

the survivors? Well, they are good and saintly, too.

127

Why? Because they too have been imprisoned by the

Reds. Because they too have been tortured by the

Reds, and above all, because they are Christian min-

isters. Don't you see? That is how everything ought

to be. They all deserve to be praised. They must all

be good and saintly, do you understand?"

"Even if someone was guilty?"

"Naturally. But you must understand this cleariy.

No one was guilty of anything. Every single minister

was as heroic and saintly as any heroes and saints we

know of. Every minister in this case is and must be

as immune to any charges of impurity as fresh snow.

And that's that!"

"I do not understand you, Colonel," I said. "May

I then assume that you no longer suspect Mr. Shin?"

"Yes, you may," he said and added placidly, "I

have never suspected him of anything."

I looked at him, amazed.

"But whai aDout his words?" said Park. "What are

we to make of what he said—that we may not want the truth?"

Colonel Chang ignored the question.

Park turned to me. "What do you think?" he said.

"Is the truth about the martyrs so ugly that he thinks

we would rather not hear it?"

"Captain Park! I implore you to refrain from utter-

ing such an impious statement," said Colonel Chang.

128

"Sir, I wish to know the truth," retorted Park. He

turned to me. "Why do you think Mr. Shin left the

city?"

I remained silent; I did not know what to say.

Colonel Chang said, "Now that I have the truth

about the execution of the martyrs, and how all the

ministers carried themselves, I do not feel it is im-

portant for us to know the reason that he left the city."

His statement vexed me. "Colonel, I am confused,"

I said. "You were anxious to find out why he had dis-

appeared from the city. In fact, you accused him of

running away. And now . . ."

"You completely misunderstand me. What I meant

was that, in view of the truth about the entire situ-

ation, I could not comprehend why he should vanish

as he did, only to increase and intensify suspicions

and misgivings directed against him by a certain seg-

ment of the Christians. He is not guilty of anything.

Why should he, then, leave without a trace, especially

when the Christians want to see him? I am extremely

unhappy about his act, which as I said, may inad-

vertently prompt some hot-blooded Christians to form

a hasty and misguided conclusion. Do you understand

me now?"

Park said gloomily, "I think he has a certain secret

which he believes may be harmful to the Christians."

"What secret?" said the colonel, frowning.

129

"That not all the twelve ministers were martyrs."

"Do you share the same opinion. Captain Lee?"

the colonel turned to me.

"I only know that Mr. Shin believes that we may

not want the truth," I said.

"And that means," said the colonel, raising his

voice, "that you don't accept my words as the truth."

"I must admit, with your permission, sir, that your

truth may very well be only a part of the whole truth.

I caimot evaluate the entire situation until I know

what Mr. Shin has in mind."

"And what does he have in mind?" Colonel Chang

said, now pacing about the room.

"I don't know, sir. He has not told me. All I know,

because he told me so, is that he is guarding the truth."

"Guarding it? Well, for whom?" Colonel Chang

said, visibly annoyed.

"For us, sir. For the Christians, for the Church, for

the Army."

With an immense frown. Colonel Chang cluck-

clucked.

"And for his god, too?" said Park.

"Ah, no use bringing god down into this," said

Colonel Chang. "If what you say is true, Captain Lee,

I am afraid Mr. Shin is trying to be too humble. We should understand him, of course. We understand that a man like him is not willing to publicize his sufferings

130

and his triumph. It is very Uke him that he should want

to efface himself. But I think he is going too far in

not letting the others share the glory of the martyrs.

The living should not deny the dead their suffering and

their ultimate victory."

Park and I stared at him in silence.

Unperturbed, Colonel Chang continued: "The mar-

tyrdom of the twelve ministers is an established fact,

which does not need to be questioned but needs only

to be made pubUc to render full justice to their hero-

ism and saintliness. And there is no one better quali-

fied than Mr. Shin for testifying to the glory of the

tnartyrs. And that's that."

I looked at him, and when his eyes challenged mine,

I said, "Colonel, what do you know about the execu-

tion of the ministers that I don't know?"

But he simply turned away and stalked out of my

oflSce,

^i^^;i^ii^^^}^;i^i^^^^ 18

THE NEXT MORNING, the Freedom Press carried an article, headlined "Christian Intrepidity," about

Chaplain Koh. There was a picture of the chaplain,

dressed in combat fatigues and wearing a steel helmet

on which was painted a white cross, leaning out of

an Army jeep against the background of an artillery

battery. The article quoted extensively from the testi-

mony of Colonel Chang, who extolled the chaplain's

"heroic virtues" in his reminiscences of how signifi-

cant and valuable Chaplain Koh's contributions had

been to the cause of the Army, how courageous a

Christian hero he was on the front line in the grim

days of the early battles, and so on. The testimony

was augmented with recollections proffered by several

Christian ministers in the city in praise of the chap-

Iain.

At Colonel Chang's request, I drove with Park to

131

132

see the ministers on the committee; the colonel planned

to have a meeting in his oJQBce that afternoon.

The blizzard of the night before had quietly left

the city, leaving behind it a thick layer of fresh snow

over the battle-scarred earth. It was cold. In the blue

sky streaks of white vapors from combat planes

stretched beyond the northern mountains; on the

ground, convoys of supply trucks from the southern

side of the river plowed through the streets. The news

from the front was gloomy. We had been receiving more and more intelligence reports concerning the

increasing activities of the Chinese Communists. Some

units on the western front had even captured some of

their soldiers; it was beginning to look as if we might

expect an extensive operation on the part of the

Chinese on North Korean soil.

We reached the colonel's oflEice shortly before two o'clock.

Five ministers had already arrived, and were sit-

ting around the stove, Ustening to Colonel Chang, who

was narrating the history of the intelligence operations

in which Chaplain Koh had been involved. Park and

I stood by the window. The ministers were old men,

some with thin, white hair, some with gray hair; they

were uniformly dressed in ash-colored, cotton-padded

winter robes, on the left sleeves of which they wore

i

133

black bands. They sat rigidly on olive-green metal

chairs, nodding politely to the high-pitched voice of

the colonel. After a while I left the room to tell my

orderly to serve tea to the ministers.

When I came back Colonel Chang was saying,

"Well, now, what's the use of reviving the past? The

war is going to be over soon, and we have more than

enough to do now and in the future."

His guests nodded pensively in agreement.

Another minister arrived. He, too, wore an ash-

colored robe and a black armband. He was much

younger than the others, perhaps in his mid-forties.

After muttering an apology for being late, he said to

no one in particular, "I am afraid there isn't much we

can do about them."

Someone said, "Yes, I know."

"Are you talking about your people?" asked the

colonel.

The younger minister said, "I have to admit that

they are becoming rather unruly and uncontrollable."

Someone sighed and cleared his throat.

"I have said this already but I feel obUged to em-

phasize it again," said Colonel Chang, "that what

happened yesterday at Mr. Shin's must never happen

again. I may be forced to take certain measures which

may be embarrassing to everyone concerned. I don't

mean to say that I don't understand how they feel,

134

but we can't afford to allow them to be swept away

by their emotions. Besides, I assure you that you will

soon discover how utterly disgraceful it would be for

you or for your people to do anything rash, as far as

Mr. Shin and Mr. Hann are concerned. Any doubt you

might have felt about the two ministers, about Mr.

Shin especially, is, I assure you, completely ground-

less."

Park and I exchanged a quick glance. The minis-

ters stirred uneasily.

The younger minister came to the window, nodded

to Park and me, and motioned us to look outside.

"There they are," he said for everyone to hear.

The others joined us.

The sky was still bright and clear but down below,

the uneven shadows of the buildings had already dark-

ened nearly half of the street, reaching out for the gUt-

tering whiteness of the ruins across the street and the

church over the slope. About half a block to the left

of our headquarters was an empty square, not yet

touched by the shadows, illumined by the sun that

glistened upon mounds of snow here and there; and

out of the square filed a silent procession of people,

coming slowly toward our building; then it turned to

the left and went up the slope to the battered church.

The snow atop the belfry reflected the sunshine bril-

liantly.

"They have been out since morning, going to the

i

135

churches of the martyrs," someone behind me said.

"It's a kind of pilgrimage, I suppose."

"Poor souls," another muttered.

The crowd of about three hundred had by now

gathered in front of the church; some men were stand-

ing on the steps, facing the people.

"What are they up to now?" said the colonel.

I opened the window.

One of the men on the steps was gesticulating. The

congregation kneeled on the snow. The face of the

man speaking to them was cast heavenward, his arms

upraised. Then, he, too, knelt down. Presently, we

began to hear the murmur of voices, now rising high

and loud, now subsiding and tremulous in the wind.

Gradually, the voices ebbed. The man stood up. His

hands cut the cold air several times. The congregation,

now standing, began to sing a hymn

"till we meet

again beyond the River Jordan . . ."

The black shadow of our building had already crept

across the street, and now was spreading unevenly

upward on the slope over the ruins. A cold wind blew in through the open window.

Colonel Chang closed the window. "Well, well," he

said.

The ministers returned to their chairs.

Colonel Chang stood by the stove. "I must say they

seem indeed inspired."

"I have never seen anything quite like it," said one

136

of the old men. "In all my life as their pastor, I have never been able to move them Hke this."

"I have seen many revivals. I myself have conducted

them many times," said another. "But this is the great-

est of all. I am deeply touched by it as you all must

be, I am sure."

"The most miraculous thing about it is," said a third

old minister with a gray beard, "they are doing it

entirely on their own. I am certain that none of us

here started it or even suggested it."

"It puts us all to shame," said the younger man.

"Ah, but it is a heaven-sent opportunity for them

and for us," said another. "They have received the

blessing. I dare say it is ordained by our Lord. We have needed it, let us admit. We needed an event mighty and divine enough to awaken us and free us

from years of bad dreams."

"Inscrutable shall ever be the holy will of our

Lx)rd," someone said.

"Amen," echoed the others.

"We must not let the martyrs down," Colonel Chang

said. "I have been saying it all along."

"Yes, our people know the martyrs died for us and

saved us from the sins of our meek suffering and sub-

mission to the forces of evil," said a minister who ap-

peared to be the oldest of the company. "Yes, we

know it and they know it. We have sinned much,

137

Colonel Chang, and we are ashamed that we have

allowed our spirits to suffer from despair. It shall

never happen again. I fear the Church needed the

sacrifice offered by our martyrs, God bless their souls."

He paused and looked about him. "I would like to

ask everyone here to join me in a prayer. Would you

mind, Colonel Chang?"

"Certainly not!"

My orderly came in, followed by a private; they proceeded to serve tea. The proposed prayer was

delayed until they withdrew.

The cups and saucers clattered as the ministers put

them down on the wooden floor. They bowed their

heads. Colonel Chang, sitting hunched on a chair,

gazed down into his cup. Park looked out of the win-

dow. I watched the ministers in their devotional

posture.

"Lx)rd, we ask Thee to forgive our many sins. We have just witnessed the spiritual agonies of Thy chil-

dren. They cried out from the bottom of their penitent

hearts, offering Thee their sinful souls, their spirits

aflame with renewed zeal and vigor, through the in-

spiration of our holy martyrs. Lord, forgive us our

many sins and show us the way, show us, Thy sinful

children who have suffered much from the evil forces

of Satan, show us the way to reach Thy light and Thy

blessing. Hear us, Lord. We were weak, but we know

138

we have not sinned beyond all hope. Lord, forgive our

many sins and receive us into Thy everlasting king-

dom. Amen."

"Amen," came the murmured response.

Colonel Chang broke the silence. "Now gentlemen,

I asked you to join me here today because I want you

to meet someone who was close to our martyrs during

the last few days of their hves. Needless to say, I take

great pride in what he wants to tell you about them.

I won't talk about it now. You shall hear it directly

from him. It is only a small service I can render you

in my limited capacity as the officer in charge of this

establishment. He will be here presently." He pressed

a buzzer on his desk.

PoUte nods and murmurs responded to his remark.

Suddenly Park stepped forward. "I am sure you all

know who I am," he said. "I am glad you are all here,

because I wanted to tell you that I do not wish to be

included on this conmiittee. I do not wish to have

anything to do with the memorial service."

Colonel Chang interrupted, "Captain Park, I must

ask you to restrain yourself from being overwhelmed

by your grief. We all understand how unhappy you must be!"

Unperturbed, Park went on, "I am leaving the city

as soon as I can. I am sorry that I cannot represent

the famiUes of your martyrs, but I have never asked

for the honor. That is all I wanted to say."

139

Indifferent to the frowning and bewildered faces of

the ministers, Park was about to stalk out of the room

when there was a knock on the door. Two officers

came in with a white-robed man between them. I rec-

ognized the lieutenants; they were from CIC.

The prisoner's head was shaven; his swollen, blood-

shot eyes set above high cheekbones glanced about

the room. His hands were heavily bandaged.

Colonel Chang held his arm. "Gentlemen, I would

like you to meet Major Jung, formerly in the service

of the Pyongyang secret police of the Peoples' Repub-

lic of Korea. Major Jung, I want you to meet these

gentlemen, distinguished ministers of the Christian

church of this city, and, of course, dear colleagues of

the martyrs. It was very thoughtful of you to agree

to come here and personally tell my friends about the

martyrs. My friends. Major Jung saw much of our martyrs and he was one of the few who witnessed their

unforgettable last moments. Now, Major Jung, will

you kindly tell these gentlemen what you have told

me about them." He released his grip on the prisoner

and stepped aside.

Major Jung's eyes lingered over the faces of the

ministers. He was thin and tall. He moistened his lips;

his cheeks twitched; his Adam's apple jerked up and

down his long throat. His hoarse voice said quietly,

"So you are ministers."

Colonel Chang said, "Incidentally, gentlemen, al-

140

though we must admit that he has committed many

sins in the past, Major Jung has given us invaluable

help and has fully repented his ignoble past. And that

means he shall be a free man—after certain adminis- trative measures have been taken, that is."

Major Jung turned to the colonel. "You're a Har,"

he said.

The lieutenants seized his arms.

"I know your kind," the prisoner went on calmly.

"We knew enough about you. You and I are in the

same trade. Don't think you can fool me. I know what

you are up to. You don't have to hide from these gen-

tlemen the fact that you are going to shoot me. When?

Tonight? Tomorrow morning?"

"What is this!" shouted the colonel.

The lieutenants tried to drag the prisoner out.

"Let him stay!" the colonel ordered; then to the

prisoner, "Look here, you must be out of your mind.

I warn you to behave yourself. I may indeed be in-

clined to shoot you, you understand!"

"Have mercy on him, Colonel," someone whispered.

Major Jung faced the ministers. He shook his bald

head and grinned. "Yes, have mercy on me. Have

mercy on me? But you make me laugh. You are too

forgetful. It was I who had mercy on you, don't you

remember? I had a chance to shoot aU of you but I

didn't because I foolishly thought you weren't worthy

141

of our bullets. Ah, but I should have shot you all. I

realize it only too late."

"Take him away!" Colonel Chang shouted.

I saw the door open behind the lieutenants; Chap-

lain Koh entered.

Major Jung said, "You don't have to send me away

before I can tell these friends of yours about your great

martyrs. Isn't that what you wanted me to do? I must

say you have a sense of humor, though. Gentlemen,

you wish to know how your great martyrs died. It

gives me great pleasure to tell you that your great

heroes and martyrs died like dogs. Like dogs, whim-

pering, whining, wailing. It pleased me to hear them

beg for mercy, to hear them denounce their god and

one another. They died Uke dogs. Like dogs, do you

hear! Ah, I should have shot them all!"

"Why didn't you!" the sharp voice of Park cut in.

"Why? You ask me why?" the prisoner whirled

about to face Park. "Because one went crazy. Crazy,

like a mad dog. I am not a brute. I don't shoot mad

men."

"And why didn't you shoot the other one!" boomed

the voice of Chaplain Koh. He strode toward us.

"What is this!" shouted the colonel.

"He was the only one who put up a fight. I like a

good fight. He had guts. He was the only one who had

enough guts to spit in my face. I admire anyone who

142

can spit in my face. That's why I didn't shoot him. I

should have shot him, though. I should have shot you,

too, when I had a chance. I know you, a phony pas-

tor."

Chaplain Koh stood facing the prisoner, then

swiftly knocked him to the floor with his fist. He spat

out, "Monster!"

The CIC lieutenants dragged the prisoner out of

the room.

"What is this?" said the colonel to the chaplain.

"Indeed, what is this?" Chaplain Koh looked at the

ministers. "What are you all doing here?"

"Where is he?" said the colonel. "Where is Mr.

Shin?"

"Where is he now?" asked the oldest minister. "You

must tell us if you know where he is. We must know the truth. He is the only one who can now tell us the

truth about all this."

Chaplain Koh did not speak.

"What are you up to?" Colonel Chang said angrily;

he glared at the chaplain.

"I won't allow you to disturb Mr. Shin," said the

chaplain. He spoke to the ministers. "Now that you

are all here, to whom shall I have the honor of de-

Uvering the message from Mr. Shin?"

"I feel obliged to warn you. Chaplain," said the

143

colonel, "you are under my authority, you under-

stand."

"Ah, hang your authority! Is that all you can think

of? Speaking of authority, I have already talked with

the Secretary of Defense, who is a very good friend of

mine, my cousin, to be exact, as you know. Perhaps,

you didn't know. It doesn't matter. I have been given

a certain authority, the nature of which I shan't bother

to explain. You can call him, if you hke."

I stepped forward. "Chaplain, you said you have

a message from Mr. Shin."

He nodded. "But I frankly don't know to whom I

should deliver it." He glanced at the ministers.

"Please speak to us all," said the oldest. "Our lead-

ers are gone but we shall try our best to be worthy

of our duty as the interim representatives of our

churches."

"Very well," the chaplain said. "Mr. Shin has al-

ready notified his congregation that he wishes to be

reheved of his duty as their pastor, and a similar notice

has been sent to the congregation of Mr. Hann."

No one spoke; no one stirred.

"Mr. Shin," the chaplain said, "wishes to resign

from the ministry."

"Fool!" Colonel Chang exclaimed, "Bloody fool!"

^^;^^^;^^^^^;^^^ 19

FOR SOME TIME after the ministers had left in an atmosphere of confusion and uneasiness, a heavy

silence prevailed among the four of us. Park and I

stood by the window; Chaplain Koh sat quietly near

the stove; while Colonel Chang leaned back in his

swivel chair behind the desk, gazing at the ceiling. It

was getting dark outside. The wind blew hard. A streetcar clanged by, spattering pale sparks in its wake.

Colonel Chang at last broke the silence by sitting

up abruptly in his chair. "Captain Lee," he said, "you

asked me what it was that I knew and you didn't

about the execution of the twelve miaisters. Do you

remember?"

Park and the chaplain looked at the colonel, who

now sat with his hands clasped on the desk.

"It's true, I do know something that all of you here

do not know. I had hoped that I would never have to

144

145

tell you what I know, but now I feel I have no other

choice. The prisoner was telling you the truth about

the ministers, although he exaggerated and under-

standably so. Among the twelve there were some who

betrayed their fellows; they were unable to resist the

Reds and allowed themselves to be manipulated into

denouncing the others. I needn't say anything about

Mr. Shin or about the young minister. You have heard

the prisoner's words."

"Colonel, how long have you known all this?" I

asked.

"Ever since I was assigned to the case. Of course

I didn't know everything in detail. But that there were

betrayers I knew for certain prior to the capture of

Major Jung. Under the circumstances I had no other

choice than to suspect Mr. Shin and Mr. Hann. I now

know they are innocent. We have Major Jung's word for the fantastic and compUcated but true circum-

stances regarding the last moments of the execution.

It was only when I got his confession that I was able

to understand why Mr. Shin at first denied any knowl-

edge of the execution. He decided to tell a small he

rather than a big he about the martyrdom of the

twelve, rather than reveal the truth about the shameful

frailty and infidelity of some of them.

Colonel Chang's thin lips curled with disdain.

"Now," he continued after a pause, "Mr. Shin has

146

vanished in the face of angry Christians who accuse

him of an alleged betrayal. He wants to resign from

the ministry and from his church. What are we to

make of this? Consider for a moment that you are in

his position, that you are falsely accused of a shameful

act which you did not commit; consider also that you

are subjected to unspeakable humiliation—such as having your house smashed by those for whose sake

you are keeping silent. Captain Lee, I accept what you

said—that Mr. Shin is guarding the truth, that the others may not want the truth. But I am afraid of what

he might do, of what he may be thinking of doing."

Chaplain Koh said, "Mr. Shin did not say anything

about his intention of resigning until this morning.

He hasn't explained why he wants to resign, or what

he plans to do afterward."

"That is why I am disturbed," Colonel Chang said.

"Are you afraid that he might speak the truth?" I

said.

"The truth which you don't want?" said Park bit-

terly.

Colonel Chang scowled at Park.

"Colonel, are you sure," the chaplain said, "that

what you have just told us is beyond question?"

"Yes, I am sorry to say I have all the details—the names of the ministers, what they did and said, what

confessions they gave to the Reds. I regret to say that

I have the evidence."

I

147

"Colonel, may I . . .?" said Park.

Colonel Chang interrupted him. "I know what you

would like to know. Captain Park," he said gravely.

"You can be proud, as we all are, that your father was

the bravest man of them all. He was magnificent, Cap-

tain. Even Major Jung admitted that your father could

inspire a certain kind of awe and respect among the

Red torturers. Rest assured, Captain, he is a great

martyr."

Park, with eyes closed, remained silent.

Colonel Chang said, "Chaplain, where is Mr. Shin?"

And when there was no response, "It doesn't matter

whether you tell me or not. I shan't disturb him. But

tell me, do you have any idea what he is thinking of

doing?"

The chaplain shook his head. "No."

"Does he know what happened to his house?"

"He knows what they did."

"How did he take it? Was he angry?"

"Yes!" shouted the chaplain, jumping up from his

chair. "Yes, he was angry. What did you expect? I've

never seen him so angry. He didn't want to go away.

I forced him to go. I admit that it was my way of

revenge. I hated those petty Christians who behaved

like mice yesterday and today are howling like hun-

gry beasts!" He stopped for breath. "All right, he is at

the service headquarters of my brigade in Chinnampo.

I thought I could keep him over there for a while, at

148

least until the memorial service is over. But is there

going to be a memorial service?" Chaplain Koh

glanced furiously about him. "For whom? To com-

memorate whom?"

Colonel Chang brought his fist down on the desk.

"Yes! There is going to be a memorial service. To

commemorate whom? The twelve martyrs, of course,

the twelve glorious martyrs! What do you think! Never

mind what I told you. You've heard it, and now forget

what you know. I told you only because I wanted you

to help me, to help the Christians."

"To help your propaganda, too?" said the chaplain.

"Yes! To help the Army's propaganda, too. Why

not, after all! I am not going to let anyone defile our

cause. I am not going to let anyone give the Reds an

upper hand. Understand that. I don't care who be-

trayed whom. All I care is that the betrayers and the

betrayed alike were murdered by the Reds. That is

what you must remember. That is what we must em-

phasize. And that is the most important thing to tell

the whole nation. Army Intelligence has been com-

piling the data about the inhuman practices of the

Reds, we are especially interested in collecting evi-

dence on how the Reds treat Christians. The murder

of the twelve ministers cannot be dismissed lightly just

because there were a few weak human beings among

them. What counts is they were murdered by the Reds,

and don't forget it!"

149

"Aren't you overlooking something?" cried the |

chaplain, "We are dealing with martyrs, religious mar-

tyrs! If you wanted a hundred heroes out of a hun-

dred Army deserters, very well, you should have them.

But, by God, you are not going to manufacture reli-

gious martyrs. It would be the most despicable blas-

phemy. Martyrs serve the will of God, not the

ephemeral needs of men!"

"Leave your god out of this. Chaplain," the colonel

said. "You know I don't give a damn for your god."

"You are unnecessarily blasphemous. Colonel," the

chaplain said indignantly.

"Am I? How do you know that what I am going to do—manufacture martyrs as you say—well, how do you know it is what your god may not want? How do you know that I may not be doing a greater service to

your Christianity by presenting twelve martyrs than

by exposing all the dirty linen under the holy gar-

ments of those miserable ministers?"

For a moment Chaplain Koh was too furious to

reply. Then he said, "Something must be said to ex-

plain Mr. Shin's act, to explain that he has nothing

to be ashamed of. You must tell the truth, Colonel, or

I shaU!"

"Well, Captain Lee," said the colonel, "you have

been quiet. What is your opinion? Do you also insist that I tell the truth?"

There was in the tone of his voice an unmistakable

150

challenge. Feeling upon me the silent gaze of the

chaplain and Park, I said, "With your permission, sir,

let me say I don't understand why you are all so dis-

turbed. What I would like to remind you is that we

are talking about your truth. Colonel. We have your truth before us and we are arguing what to do with it.

But it seems to me you have forgotten about Mr. Shin.

What about him? What is he going to do? What is

Mr. Shin's truth? That is the heart of the matter."

"I don't understand you," said the colonel.

"Sir, the Christians will be more willing to believe

what he tells them than what you tell them," I said.

"Hm, don't be too sure of that. But I am glad you

brought Mr. Shin up. Why does he want to resign?

I'll tell you why. I am afraid he has become rather

emotional about the whole damned affair. I fear he has

come to a decision to speak out the truth, all the filthy

truth about the betrayers. Otherwise, why resign from

his calling? It is not a simple thing for a minister to

accuse and expose the crimes and failings of fellow

ministers. So he quits to make a clear way for his con-

science."

"And if he states the fact," Park said, "that there

were betrayers, what do you propose to do about it?"

"He won't say that," Colonel Chang said angrily.

"But suppose he does."

"I will do my best to deny it."

151

"And claim that he says so because he wants to

hide his own guilt?" said Chaplain Koh.

Colonel Chang glared at him. "We must persuade

him not to lose his head and do anything rash. That's

why I said I need your help. We must do our best to stop him from resigning, first of all, and then persuade

him to tell the Christians that no minister was guilty,

including himself and Mr. Hann, of course. And I

will back him up."

"With enough evidence, I hope, sir," I said.

"I don't want to hear any more nonsense from any

of you," he shouted. "And I remind you that you are

not to divulge any part of this confidential information,

you understand."

"You assume," Park said quietly, "that he will

either speak the truth or distort it for your benefit, or

even maybe his own. But why not assume that he just

might say nothing, as he has not so far? Suppose he

continues to keep an absolute silence? What then?"

"Nonsense! Sooner or later, he has to clear him-

self. Otherwise, everyone will be convinced that he is

really guilty of something terrible, as many have al-

ready begun to think."

"It is imperative that Mr. Shin's innocence be estab-

lished," said the chaplain.

"How would you accomplish that, Chaplain?" the

colonel asked.

152

"Tell the truth," the chaplain said in anger. "How

else? I am a Christian and a chaplain and I was once

a pastor myself, but that does not mean I should com-

promise the truth, however painful it might be to the

cause and interest of Christians. Truth cannot be hid-

den away. Perhaps, it was God's will that such a

painful truth as this should have come to Christians."

"And you. Captain Park? What do you say to that?"

said the colonel.

Brooding, Park did not reply.

"And you. Captain Lee?"

"I cannot agree with you, sir," I said. "I cannot

twist the truth to suit it to the purpose of our propa-

ganda. Besides, sir, as Chaplain Koh has pointed out,

the truth has to do with the religious nature of martyr-

dom, a matter which must be dealt with by religious

authorities."

"You then refuse to understand my position," said

the colonel.

"Colonel, my only argument is that truth must be

told for the sake of its simply being the truth. I must

make it clear that I have no other motives. If Mr. Shin

were to be found guilty of betrayal, I would insist that

he be brought to account for his crime. That's all,

Colonel."

"Why must truth be told?" Exasperated, the colonel

sprang up from his chair and began pacing the room.

153

"Truth can De buried and still be the truth. It doesn't

have to be told."

"The problem in our case, sir, is that you are

obUged to say something about the execution of the

ministers," I said. "You have created the situation as

it stands now, and I am afraid there is no way out of

it for you, no way other than either to teU the truth or,

as you insist, to distort it. It is your choice. Colonel."

"And what is your choice. Captain? Suppose you

were in my position, what would you do?"

"I would tell the truth," I repUed.

"And make the damn Reds happy and bring all the

disgrace to us, eh?"

"I would have no other choice,"

"Enough!" Colonel Chang cried impatiently. "We

must persuade Shin to cooperate with us."

"You mean, cooperate with you," said the chaplain.

"Suppose he refuses to be persuaded or to cooperate

with you?" I said.

"Then I won't have any other choice. I will have to

force him, no matter how much I may be disinclined

to do so."

"Do you reaUy think he is the kind of man you can

force to do something against his principles?" the

chaplain said.

"Ah, that we shall see."

154

"How would you force him, may I ask?" retorted

the chaplain.

"I would rather not say anything about it at this

stage."

A long moment of silence followed. At last the chaplain turned to me. "Captain Lee, do you remem-

ber, some time ago I told you of a certain problem

which is exclusively my own?"

"Yes, I remember," I said. "Why do you ask?"

"You remember I asked you what you would do if

you were in my place?"

I nodded.

"What are you talking about?" said the colonel,

darting a vexed look at me and at the chaplain.

"I am merely trying to pose a question," the chap-

lain said. "You asked Captain Lee what he would do

in your position. What would you do. Colonel, if you

were in Mr. Shin's place?"

"What would you do?" said the colonel, frowning.

"I confess," Chaplain Koh sighed, "I wouldn't know

what to do."

"I would tell the truth," I said.

"Enough!" cried Colonel Chang once again.

"Enough of this nonsense."

i^^^^^i^^^n^^n^^^ 20

CHAPLAIN KOH, PARK, and I withdrew to my

office when Colonel Chang left headquarters to attend

a meeting at the Pyongyang Area Command. I had

my orderly bring us a pot of tea, and we sat quietly

around the stove and sipped the tea, reUeved not to

be arguing and shouting any more.

It was Park who spoke first. "Cnaplain, tell me," he

said with his head bowed, "has Mr. Shin said any-

thing to you about my father?"

"No, he hasn't, only that he has something to tell

you. I know he wants very much to see you." The

chaplain turned to me. "Captain, did you see those

Christians out there in front of the church—Park's father's church?"

"Of course I saw them," I said. "Why do you ask?"

"I wonder if you understand them," he said, glanc-

ing at Park.

155

156

"Do you?" I said.

"I don't have to," he said softly. "After all, I am one of them. Perhaps what I felt as I watched them

was something deeper than what we call understand-

ing."

"Maybe," I shrugged. "I'm not much for mysteries.

Incidentally, Chaplain, what you told Colonel Chang

about your talk with the Secretary of Defense—was that true?"

He laughed. "I've been too busy to call him. He is

my cousin, that's a fact, and Colonel Chang knows it.

So you see, I wasn't exactly telling a fib." He got up

from his chair. "Well, I think I should be on my way.

Don't worry about Mr. Shin and Mr. Hann. They are

comfortable. I'll tell Mr. Shin about our discussion

with the colonel."

Park did not look up to bid the chaplain good night.

He seemed to be intensely preoccupied with his own

thoughts. After a while he said softly, almost as if he

were speaking to himself, "I said I suspected I was the

very source of my horror. I don't suspect it any more.

I know it. I don't know any other way to explain all

the misery in this world, generation after generation."

Suddenly he exclaimed with surprising bitterness,

"So my father is a great martyr. The colonel says so.

Even the Red major said so. He won as he always has.

And I lost as I always have. I can't hide it any longer.

157

I must tell you what I have been secretly hoping for, so

you will know how base and wretched a man can be.

Do you know I wished my father hadn't been a mar-

tyr? I wanted him to have failed at the last moment. I

hoped he had been defeated, yes, crushed, so he would

know what it was like to be weak in spirit. What it

was like to doubt—to doubt his god, his faith, every- thing—to taste the horrible injustice and suffering of this life. But he didn't fail. He was a great martyr.

How like him! I can see that proud face of a fanatic,

possessed by his conviction that he was right, so that

nothing could defeat him. How he must have said to

himself, 'Well, you hoped I would fail, but I was right

and just and I won!' I can see his blazing eyes and

triumphant smile, hear his roaring voice, that magnifi-

cent voice thundering down from his pulpit, 'You

apostate!'

"

Park brought his clenched fists down on his knees.

"I can't—I can't weep for him. I could have if he had failed. I could have wept for him if he had experi-

enced at least a moment of human weakness. That's

why I sometimes weep for Christ."

"You shouldn't torment yourself so," I muttered.

"How would you judge Christ?" he cried. " 'My

God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me!' How would you listen to that cry of anguish! That cry from

the dying Christ—a pathetic figure of a pale, death-

158

stricken yet divinely mad young man, nailed to a

cross, jeered at and hated, riddled by bloody Roman

spears, helpless in the face of his enemies—the pitiful body of the alleged son of God, gasping, panting,

sweating, bleeding, without a miracle to save him.

Who knows what terrifying doubts he might have felt

at that last moment that all his life and work had

been an utter waste! Even the son of God, even Christ,

had a moment of doubt."

I got up to shovel some more coal into the stove.

"I have no use for fairy tales," I said.

"You may not, but are you so sure that others, per-

haps including myself, have no use for a fairy tale, as

you call it? And don't look so surprised to hear me

say it!"

Park came over to me and gripped my arm. "Those

wailing, chanting Christians at Mr. Shin's yesterday,

and today at my father's bombed-out church. What

do you think it was they wanted, that they need so

desperately? Tell me, would you despise them? Or

would you perhaps love them?"

I felt too disturbed to reply immediately. I could

only stand there staring into his flaming eyes. At last

I said, "I do understand them. That's all I can say.

Yes, I understand their suffering and their despair."

He let go of my arm and cried out impatiently, "Ah,

your kind of understanding is not enough. That's what

159

Chaplain Koh was trying to tell you. You only say you

understand them. You view their suffering and their

despair in a detached, intellectual way precisely be-

cause you are merely a sympathetic observer."

His passionate words struck me with relentless

force, piercing deep into my heart.

Park strode over to the window and looked out into

the dark, cold world. "I love them," he said quietly.

"It's as the chaplain said: 'After all, I am one of

them.' " He turned to face me again. "That's why I

wouldn't know what to do if I were in Mr. Shin's

place."

Late in the evening. Chaplain Koh called me from

Chinnampo. Upon arriving at the service quarters of

his brigade he had found neither Mr. Shin nor Mr.

Hann. He was worried about them. I promised him

that I would come down to Chinnampo at the earliest

opportunity. Meanwhile he would do his best to find

the two ministers.

^;^l^^^i^l^\i^\i^^^}i^^ 21

NOTHING COULD CHANGE Park's determination to leave Pyongyang immediately. Shortly after eight

o'clock the next morning, I instructed our transporta-

tion officer to secure him a seat on a flight to Ham-

hung on the east coast. Park and I did not have much

time to speak to each other; I had to prepare for a

meeting at headquarters of the U.S. forces. But first.

Colonel Chang wanted to see me.

When I entered his office, I found him seated be-

hind his desk, drinking tea. He had just finished eating;

a small tray with an empty plate was pushed to one

side. His orderly came in to remove the tray and

Colonel Chang asked me if I would like to join him

in a cup of tea. When the orderly brought in a cup

and a pot of fresh tea, the colonel asked me to pull

up a chair.

I informed him that Park was leaving the city.

160

161

"So he meant what he said," he said indifferently.

I then told him that Chaplain Koh had called to say

he had been unable to find the ministers at Chinnampo

on his return.

To my surprise, he took the news calmly. "Now,

that's going too far, don't you think?" he said off-

handedly. "What do you think should be done?"

I told him that I would like to drive down to Chin-

nampo as soon as I could.

He nodded, "Of course, you should go and find

them," he said. "But I am afraid I shall have to detain

you here for a while. Well, shall we get down to our

business?"

"As you wish, sir."

"I had a call from the Chief of Intelligence last

night. I had talked with him some time ago, in fact;

I asked for a transfer. He is at last convinced that I

have had enough of political intelligence, which isn't

my specialty anyway. I asked for a job in a field intel-

Ugence operation, in which I am sort of an expert, if

you'll allow me to say so. So I am going to be trans-

ferred. I have asked that a replacement be sent here

immediately, but it will take some time and, besides,

according to the chief, there isn't anyone available

at the moment. Meanwhile you are to run this outfit.

I have no doubt that you can do it—better than I have, I am sure. I am glad I am going back to my

162

old kind of job. It is beyond my power to deal with

another man's conscience. You must have guessed

that."

I was touched by his confiding in me; I was seeing

another side of Colonel Chang.

"There is something else I want to tell you but, of

course, it will have to be kept confidential," he said.

He then described to me the nature of his new assign-

ment and his plans for carrying out the project that

went with it. He had received instructions from the

Army's Chief of Intelligence to go underground in

order to establish an inteUigence network in the

Pyongyang area. He was to be aided by agents per-

sonally selected by the Chief of InteUigence.

"I shall have to disappear," Colonel Chang said.

"We'll be setting up a secret base from which we will

be operating later on."

"But why are you telling me about this. Colonel?"

"You know what my assignment means, don't you?"

"Yes. I know what you are supposed to do. But I

don't understand why it is necessary."

"Neither do I understand it," he said, "nor does the

chief. All we know at this stage is that it has been

decided at some very high quarters that, if the Chinese

strike us, we won't fight. We'll pull out. Ah, it's all

very disgusting."

"We aren't even going to hold onto Pyongyang, I

163

suppose, sir," I said, "since they made it clear you are

going to be left behind here."

"I am not the only one. I stay because I want to

and because I am ordered to. But think of all those

people." He shook his head.

Gazing toward the window at the gray world out-

side, Colonel Chang said quietly, "If there really is a

god who can observe from high up in heaven what we

down here are doing, it surely must look rather child-

ish." He paused for a long moment. "Do you know

that I am a baptized Christian? Accidentally, that is.

My grandfather was an incorrigible believer in magic, any kind of magic. He had a friend who was a Bap-

tist or Methodist—I forget which. One day my grand- father took me along to a church with this friend of

his who had a baby in his arms. Well, there was a

ceremony of baptism going on that day and my grand-

father got curious about it. You see, the minister was

sprinkhng drops of water on babies, and that inter-

ested the old man. But what interested him most was

the invocation of the Holy Ghost. He didn't under-

stand the Father and the Son, but the idea of the Holy

Ghost certainly fascinated him. You must remember

that he was devoted to magic and ghosts and all that.

So he had me baptized right then and there, firmly

believing that any ghost was better than none. That's

how I became a baptized Christian. The most amazing

164

part of this ghost business was that my grandfather thought I would never be thirsty because the ghost

blessed me with water."

I told him that I, too, was a baptized Christian, a

Presbyterian, to be exact.

"Are you really?" he said. "Not an accidental one

like me, I suppose."

"An involuntary one, if you Uke, sir. My parents were Christians."

"They died in this war, I understand."

"It was a bomb."

"Mine starved to death in Manchuria. You are the

only one left in your family, aren't you? So am 1. 1 had

two brothers, but they both were killed by the Jap-

anese. So we are both orphans," he said, "and bap-

tized Christians."

"Apostates, if you like."

"I would say sinners."

Colonel Chang dismissed me. As I got up from my

chair he said angrily, "The prisoner, Major Jung, was

shot last night."

When I returned to my oflQce my orderly told me

that Park had gone to see the Marine liaison oflBcer.

I called the transportation officer, and was told that

there was no flight to Hamhung in the morning but

one might be available late in the afternoon. After a

165

brief meeting with the oflBcers of my section, my or-

derly brought in a batch of mail, in which I found a

bulky envelope from Chaplain Koh. Inside the en-

velope was another one to which was attached a note

scribbled by the chaplain:

I discovered the enclosed in my quarters soon after I called you last night. I have learned from

several persons here that Mr. Shin and Mr. Harm

were seen heading for a village about six miles from

where we are. I then recalled that Mr. Shin had an

old friend of his who was pastor of the church in

that village. I don't know if the pastor is still there.

Anyhow, I can't lose any time and I am going to the village myself. I will caU you if and when I find them

there.

The enclosed envelope was addressed to me by Mr.

Shin, and within it I found this letter:

Dear Captain Lee:

Though I have always been a family friend and

have always regarded his father as my closest friend and mentor, I do not know the young Park too well,

and it has been nearly a decade since I saw h\n\

last. You have been close to him and you are his

best friend, so I entrust my letter to him with you, hoping that you will pardon my reliance on your best judgment and discretion. I beg you to read

what I wrote to Park and if you believe that he is

prepared to read it, then give it to him, but if not.

166

then please destroy it. I am taking the liberty of assuming that you will do me this favor. From what

I have learned through you and Chaplain Koh I

must teU Park what you are about to read. I would

like to have talked with him in person, but the situ-

ation I now find myself in prevents me from seeing

the son of my dear departed friend and venerable

teacher.

Truly yours,

Shin

Mr. Shin's letter to Park read:

From out of the city the dying groan,

and the soul of the wounded cries for help;

yet God pays no attention to their prayer.

Job 24:12

On the fourth night of our imprisonment, your

father, who had been separated from the rest of us,

was brought into our cell by one of the interrogators.

There were five of us in that small cell and we were

grieved to see him; he had been tortured much; his

swollen face was smeared with blood, he had lost

most of his hair, his nails were broken, and he had

diflBculty opening his eyes. He was nearly uncon-

scious when he was thrown into our cell. We tried our best to cleanse him but he was in pain and we

did not know what to do. Gradually his breathing

relaxed and we thought he was falling into a deep

sleep. In that dark, malodorous cell, with the stifling

heat benumbing our senses, we knelt around him and

167

prayed. Presently one of us began to recite a passage

from Job. It was then that your father stirred and

made an effort to raise himself. In the dim light that

projected the iron bars against the concrete wall, his

face, with his eyes closed, pained our hearts. For

a while he listened to the hushed voice that spoke

the words of Job. And then suddenly, when the voice

came to the passage I have quoted at the beginning

of this letter, your father, to our bewilderment, cried:

"Stop! No more!" I say "to our bewilderment" be-

cause we did not understand him at the time. But I

understood him later. I wonder if you can. So it was

that we passed the night in silence, to be disturbed

only when they came during the night to take away

and return the five of us, one by one.

I stUl remember the night when you came to see

me before you went away from Pyongyang. Do you remember? You had just left your father. You were

quite young then. I remember your angry face, your

harsh voice, and your defiance. You accused your

father, saying that he was a self-righteous fanatic.

You told me you had told your father that he, too,

was not infallible. Strange, now that I recall your

words, how they have come to mean so much to me.

Should you still maintain your accusation of your

father, I say you are partly wrong and partly right.

You are wrong when you say he was a self-righteous

man; he never was, as you surely must know. But

you are right; he was a fanatic to the very end of his

life, one way or the other. You may insist that a fanatic is a self-righteous man, but with your father

168

you must remember and understand that he had

never said that he was right, but that his God was right, that his God was just. Do you understand this about him? You must, for he understood you.

It is true that he had never mentioned your name,

as far as I know, until a few days before our im-

prisonment. But I knew he was well aware of what

you were doing, where you were. I recall our con-

versation, in which he said that he was glad to hear

you had become a historian. I asked him why. "If

one is a good historian, he must transcend the par-

ticulars in human history to discover the general and

once he does that he will inevitably come to the large

question of whether or not history must have an end

one day. Thus he will have to face another, larger

question—not as a historian but simply as a man. If he does that some day, then I shall have to admit

that we are not so far apart from each other as it

might appear." I remember saying to him that, per-

haps, he had some sort of teleologjcal question in

mind. No, he said, it was an eschatological question.

I do not know whether or not I was right in con-

jecturing that this was his way of saying he felt rec-

onciled with you.

I am not sure what you really wish to know about

him, about his last days on earth. I confess that I

was surprised to learn of your particular wish. How did he die? I understand that you do not want to

hear any more about his heroism and his martyrdom.

I would have Uked to talk with you but I can hardly

expect to see you at the moment. I can give you what

169

you wish to know, but I must make it clear to you

that what I am about to tell you came to your father through the terrible agonies of a wounded soul.

That night, which became the last night for those

twelve, we were taken to the bank of an upstream

branch of the Taedong River. We knew we were going to be shot. We were given one minute to say whatever we wished: to pray. "I cannot pray!" These

were your father's last words, and now I pass them

on to you in his name, in his memory. Your father

did not pray; he died in utter sohtude.

Yours truly in Christ,

Shin

I called the transportation officer and told him not

to bother with arranging a flight for Park. I then rang

up the Marine liaison officer, asked for Park, and was

told that he had gone out. It was getting late for the

meeting. I had to go, I left Mr. Shin's letter with my

orderly to give to Park and left my office.

When I returned at noon I found Park in my room,

waiting for me. I greeted him and suggested that he

join me for lunch.

"I have decided to stay here for a while," he said.

"You have read the letter from Mr. Shin," I said.

He nodded. He walked over to the window and

stood there, looking out. It was windy; the window-

panes rattled; the bell across the street clanged faintly.

170

He muttered, "Why don't they do something about

that beU?"

"It's too dangerous to get up to the belfry,*' I said.

Abruptly he swung around and came back to me. "I

can't bear to look at that church!" he cried out. "It's

as if . . . as if . . .*'

Under the gray sky the skeletal remains of the bat-

tered church stood lonely over the snow-covered slope

littered with ruins. I turned to Park and for the first

time since I had come to know him I saw his eyes

glisten with tears.

"Come," I said, holding his arm. "Don't ^>eak. I

understand.**

^l^;^^^^;^^^;!^;^^^

MATTERS CONCERNING THE transfer of Colonel Chang and my new duties as acting commanding offi-

cer of the detachment prevented me from leaving

headquarters for Chinnampo. I had not received an-

other call from Chaplain Koh nor had I been able to

reach him at the service headquarters of his brigade.

Meanwhile, the local papers had been carrying vari-

ous articles of a grandiloquent nature about the hero-

ism and martyrdom of the twelve ministers. The

articles were often sensational in their headlines and

melodramatic in their tone, so much so that I went to

Colonel Chang and asked him if he was the source of

inspiration.

He did not hesitate to admit that indeed he was.

"But why?" I protested.

"I gave the papers what they wanted," he said

calmly.

171

172

"But you did not give them the truth," I insisted.

He did not respond to my charge, but launched di-

rectly into the business of the transfer of our duties.

I interrupted him and reminded him that he had

not yet replied to my protest.

With a weary look, he stared at me. "Captain Lee,

when you finally take over my job, do you know what

you wiU be asked to do? Or forced to do, if that

suits your taste better? My dear professor—lectures, speeches, and all sorts of moral talks. Propaganda,

if you insist. Do you think you can do it? Can you

tell all sorts of people we are fighting this war for the

glorious cause of our independence, our liberty, and,

to make the matter more complicated, for the interest

and preservation of our democratic system of govern-

ment? Can you tell a bevy of sweet old ladies and

housewives or a flock of young students here who are

dying to know what is going on in the South—well, can you tell them all their sufferings are worthwhile

because this is a noble war we are fighting, that peo-

ple, many, many people will have to be sacrificed in

order to make sure that the cause of individual lib-

erty, the duty of man and free social, political, and

economic life will survive and be maintained for us

and for our posterity? Well, what do you say?"

I was dismayed at the prospect.

Colonel Chang went on. "Or, would you rather teU

173

them this war is just Uke any other bloody war in the

stinking history of idiotic mankind, that it is nothing

but the sickening result of a blind struggle for power

among the beastly states, among the rotten poUticians

and so on, that thousands of people have died and

more will die in this stupid war, for nothing, for abso-

lutely nothing, because they are just innocent victims,

helpless pawns in the arena of cold-blooded, calcu-

lating international power politics? Well, now?"

He paused to examine me. "Let me tell you what I

think. I don't give a damn what you beUeve in. Is

that clear? It is none of my business whether you are

an out-and-out patriot or a noncommittal intellectual.

The important thing, as far as I am concerned and as

far as this job goes, is to tell them what is necessary

for them to know, and what is demanded of them by

this collective body called the state. As I said, I don't

care what you beUeve in deep down in your guts, but

when you say something in that uniform of yours to

the people, heaven help you if you go around making

those miserable people more miserable by going

against the stand taken by your country, telling them

what they already know but don't want to think they

know. Do you understand that?"

Though I tried to control myself, I could not help

speaking out. "Sir, I think I know what I am doing

and what I will do; I will hang onto my truth and will

174

not compromise it. As the acting commanding oflBcer

of this unit, I shall do my best to stop immediately any

more manufacturing and dissemination of false in-

formation."

Colonel Chang gazed silently at me for some time,

then he shook his head. "I envy you, Captain Lee,"

he said wearily. "So stubborn, aren't you? At least you

are committed to that stubbornness. I am glad to see

that. After all, it's better than nothing. Truth. What is

truth? Well, you are right. I am turning my duties over

to you and you will do what you think is best. I am

sure you know what you will have to do."

"Yes," I said, preparing to go.

Suddenly he raised his voice and shouted in fury,

"Well, are you so sure, so damned sure? Are you so

sure of your conscience in this bloody war? You have

Ucked the sweat and sucked the blood of this war,

haven't you? Well, haven't you?"

I retorted, "Yes, I have killed plenty, enough and

more than enough."

"Then what makes you think you are so righteous!"

he cried. His forefinger shot out of his clenched fist

and pointed at me. "You have killed, I have killed!

We are all murderers! Don't you ever forget that! We are all up to our necks in our bloody doings. I am

guilty, and you, professor, you too are guilty!" He

stopped, then said resignedly, "We only do what we

have to do for our country, don't you understand!"

175

That evening when I was alone in my office, Chap-

lain Koh came to see me unexpectedly.

"I did not have time to call you to tell you that we

were returning to Pyongyang," he said. "We just came

back. I left them at the house and came straight here."

He had found the two ministers in a small village near

Chinnampo, where they had stayed at the house of

the local pastor. "The pastor was an old friend of Mr.

i Shin's, as I might have told you. We were there, all ; three of us. It's unbelievable the way things are in that

village. People are literally starving, and sick. Almost

half of the village is gone, not just the houses but the

people. And what despair! People there are tired, so

tired of war and life. The poor pastor! He doesn't know

what to do. He is worn out himself, with so many of

his people starving and sick and then he has to lead

services practically every evening. Ah!

"Yesterday afternoon I left Mr. Shin and Mr. Hann

and went back to our headquarters to collect alms,

you might say; and when I went back to the village,

Mr. Shin insisted that we return to the city. Why? I

don't know. Of course I have told him everything

that happened here—what Colonel Chang confessed." I informed him of the colonel's transfer.

He shook his head. "I don't envy your position."

"Why not, Chaplain?" I said. "I know exactly what

I am going to do. But tell me. What can I do for you?"

176

"I came to see you because Mr. Shin wants to have

a few words with you. Can you come?"

"Is he still determined to resign?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he is going to teU the truth?"

"God only knows," sighed the chaplain as we left

the office.

When I stood face to face with Mr. Sbiii I did not

know what to say. His pale face was shaven and his

hair trimmed; he stood erect and serene in his black

robe in the bare room chilled by a cold draft.

"How are you, Captain Lee?" he said quietly, smil-

ing.

"Quite well, thank you. And you?" I had not seen

him smile before; his tranquility disturbed me.

"Oh, fair, though I wish I could say I felt splendid.

I have taken a short trip down to Chinnampo, as you

know. The driving was rough and the chaplain is a

reckless driver, I am afraid. But it was well worth the

trouble. I had a good bath and the chaplain found me

a barber who shaved me and cut my hair and then

there was an old friend of mine to visit with and chat,

r haven't had that much luxury for a long time."

I stood there in front of him with Chaplain Koh,

like an idiot, speechless at his matter-of-fact attitude.

Shghtly raising his voice he said, "Captain, I was

177

oing to ask you to take me to Colonel Chang but

low you are in command. So I ask you to do me a

avor. Would you mind making arrangements so that

tie Christian ministers in the city can come to your

leadquarters? I have given the names of the ministers

the chaplain."

"Why would you like to gather them? And why at

leadquarters?"

"I would like it all to be oflBcial," he said quietly.

Tomorrow afternoon?"

"If you wish," I said. "Mr. Shin, I know everything

;hat you know."

He nodded.

"What are you going to tell them?"

"I have returned, Captain Lee," he said, "because

[ know I can no longer guard the truth."

"Then you are going to teU them," I said.

"Are you?" exclaimed Chaplain Koh almost joy-

fully. "I knew you would, I knew you would!"

"Captain Lee, did you also know that I would tell

the truth?"

"I don't know, Mr. Shin," I said. "All I know is

that the truth must be told."

He gazed at me. "Is it your official wish, Captain?'*

"I have only one wish," I said. "My wish."

"And you want me to tell the truth," he said.

"Yes. But it is your choice and not mine."

178

^ "Would you tell the truth," he said, "if you were in

my place?"

"Yes," I declared. "There is no other way."

"What if I didn't?" he said. "Would you despise

me?"

I did not reply.

"Good night. Captain," he said gently. "I will see

you tomorrow." He took my hand. "I shall tell them

the truth."

I searched his face, only to be met by his smile and

calmness. I bowed to him and withdrew.

His serene voice followed me. "Yes, I will tell them

the truth of my faith."

I challenged him. "The truth does not belong to you

alone or to Colonel Chang, Mr. Shin."

ii^l^li^i^^^;!^^^ii^^;i^l^ 23

AT FOUR IN the afternoon the next day, I had as- sembled the ministers in one of our conference rooms,

including those who were on the preparation commit-

tee for the memorial service. Colonel Chang and Park

were also present. Before long, Mr. Shin arrived, ac-

companied by Chaplain Koh. Everyone stood up hur-

riedly.

I went to meet Mr. Shin. When we were alone to-

gether for a moment, I said, "Whatever you are going

to do, please don't do it for the sake of someone other

than yourself."

He looked at me intensely.

"Not for this estabhshment," I said. "Not for our

propaganda, Mr. Shin . . ."

Impulsively he seized my hand. "Captain, Cap-

tain!" he whispered.

"... or for your god."

179

180

Almost violently, his hands gripped mine, trem-

bling; he gazed into my eyes feverishly, and whispered,

"For my faith, Captain! For my new faith!"

With a bow I left him.

Standing in front of the assembled ministers, tran-

quil and somber in his black robe, Mr. Shin greeted

everyone in silence; then he began to speak slowly:

"Gentlemen, I am guilty. It was I who betrayed our

martyrs."

Suddenly, taking everyone by surprise, a minister,

a young man of about thirty, leaped forward, pushing

the older ministers aside. "I knew it was you!" he

shouted. "I knew it!" He glared furiously at Mr. Shin,

as though he were about to pounce upon him and tear

him apart.

Chaplain Koh rushed to Mr. Shin's side and so did

Colonel Chang.

The young minister hissed. "Judas!" He then stalked

out of the room, quickly followed by a few of the

younger men.

Then it happened; I might have spoken out to con-

tradict Mr. Shin, to defend him in spite of what he

had decided to do and to declare the ugly truth, had

I not been too astonished by what took place immedi-

ately after the outrageous performance of the young

accuser. All the remaining ministers hurried over to

Mr. Shin, embracing him, touching him, begging him

181

to speak no more for he had said enough; they prayed

then and there; they blessed him; they confessed and

repented their past complacency and meek submission

to the enemies of their god; and they took him into

their hearts as one of them, as their sacrifice. Nothing

more was said by Mr. Shin, who stood dazed—so it seemed to me—silently shedding his tears; and they all left together, Chaplain Koh and Park with them,

leaving Colonel Chang and me alone and speechless.

^^;^^^^^;^;^^^^^ 24

LATER IN THE evening Colonel Chang invited me to his room for tea.

"Well, here we are," he said with a slight shrug of

his hunched shoulders. "You and I."

Yes, here we are indeed, I thought.

"I suppose you would rather I talked," he said.

"More tea?" He replenished my cup. "I have been thinking what I would have done, how I would have

behaved, if Mr. Shin had not said what he said this

afternoon. When Chaplain Koh reported that Mr.

Shin was gomg to resign from his ministry I felt the

whole affair was outrageous. Ah, but I am a simple-

minded idiot! As if a man like him could turn into a

coward."

"I don't understand what you mean," I said.

"I thought he was going to tell the truth to defend

himself. That would have been cowardly in my book.

I was quite sure that was what he intended to do."

182

183

"What would your reactions have been if he had

defended himself?"

"I would have denied his words. You knew I was

determined to do that. But he didn't defend himself,

he didn't justify himself. If he had, at the expense of

his colleagues, I would have lost all my respect for

him. I don't have anything to say, really, about what

he should have or shouldn't have done. He did what

he had to do this afternoon, and that's that. When I

had the sorry facts about the twelve ministers, my atti-

tude toward him changed, naturally. So when the

chaplain announced that he wanted to resign, I

thought he was going to do something utterly fooUsh

that would completely upset my plans. I thought he

was going to claim his innocence. You remember that

I had once hoped he would clear himself? Well, I

didn't want that any longer because I had found out

there were betrayers among the ministers. Instead, I

made up my mind to defend him. I wanted him to keep

silent, then I would get the others to accept him as a

man as heroic and saintly as all the twelve ministers

were supposed to have been. I confess I underesti-

mated Mr. Shin."

"No doubt," I said, but Colonel Chang was im-

pervious to my sarcasm.

He continued, "I saw the other ministers here this

afternoon, those guilty men, and now I realize why

184

they embraced him. Do you understand why? I am

sure you do. I thought I would help him to be a hero.

Instead, he appeared here as a Judas, and lo and be-

hold, they accepted him. It was not for me to help him

or them. They did not need the kind of help I thought

I could offer. I understand what he did and I dare say

I understand why he felt he had to do it." He stood up.

"Now that it is all over, I must say I shouldn't have

worried about Mr. Shin, you know, about what he

was going to do, what he should or shouldn't do. I

should have known better. He had his church and its

reputation to protect and I had my state and its cause

to guard. What I failed to realize was that he and I

had a legitimate common interest to look after in this

little affair, whose happy ending we are now cele-

brating. I think you and I can congratulate ourselves

that it all turned out to be the way we wanted, don't

you?"

I thanked him for the tea and started toward the

door.

"Do me a favor, will you?" Colonel Chang called

after me. "When you see Mr. Shin, will you tell him

that it was my honor to have met him?"

I turned to face him. "With your permission, sir,

may I suggest you do that personally?"

He stared at me, then he shook his head wearily and

turned away.

185

About an hour or so later, when I was getting ready

for the night, Park burst into my room, panting.

"I need your help," he gasped. "The Christians

stormed up to Mr. Shin's house and demanded to see

him. He wanted to meet them, but we didn't let him

go out for fear he might get hurt. They were throwing

stones, shouting, threatening to break into the house.

They are still there. I went out with a few ministers

and we did our best to send them away, but it was no

use. I think they are led by the young minister who was

here this afternoon. There is the curfew and I don't

know how they got there at this time of night. Look!

Can you round up some of your guards here, or call

the Military PoUce? The mob is getting out of hand."

I lost no time calling up a detail of guards. We drove to Mr. SMn's house and stopped at the foot of

the hiU, when we heard the burst of a submachine gun

in the midst of eerie chanting in the darkness —

"Judas!

Judas! Judas! Judas!" A squad of Mihtary PoUce had arrived before us and was trying to disperse the crowd.

Our guards joined them, lining up in front of the

house, facing the mob. Flashhghts crisscrossed. Park

and I urged them to go away, but their shouting, wail-

ing voices drowned ours. Young voices kept on screech-

ing, "Judas! Judas! Judas! Judas!" A roaring voice boomed, "Come out, Judas! Repent, Judas!" I could

not tell how many of them were there in the dark

186

perhaps forty or fifty. Suddenly I heard Park's voice

commanding, "Who is your leader! Who is respon- sible for this mob!" I saw him snatch a submachine

gun from a guard and fire into the black sky. The

crowd grew silent briefly, but Park lost his chance to

speak as several voices screamed out, "There he goes!

Catch him!" "KiU him! Kill him!" Some men were

running toward the left wing of the house into a

thicket bleakly laden with snow. Feet crunched on

gravel, hysterical voices shouted—and then there was a wailing, piercing cry like that of a terrified beast.

Part of the mob broke away to join the chase, crying,

"There he is, down the hill! Get him!"

Suddenly the front door opened wide and I saw

Mr. Shin standing there framed by the dim hght be-

hind him. Then a woman shrieked, "Judas!" and an

answering roar of "Judas! Judas!" went up from the

crowd. I ran over to Mr. Shin and tried to push him

back into the house.

"Please, Captain Lee," he said in desperation. "Let

me go. It's Mr. Harm. He is out there! I must find

him!"

"Go back into the house," I said. "I'll go and find

him. Please go back inside!" Park approached, bran-

dishing a carbine now. I told him that I had to go

after Mr. Hann. "Stay here," I said. A sergeant in charge of the Mifitary PoUce came up to us. "Captain,

187

what's going on here anyway? Any gathering of a

crowd hke this at this time of night is against martial

law, sir. I'll have to arrest aU or shoot at them if they

don't go away." I told him to be patient and do his

i best to disperse them. "I sent for more men and

trucks," he said, "Then we can handle the idiots!"

Stones flew out of the dark, smashing against the wall

and the windowpanes. Glass broke. Park fired his car-

bine into the air. "Get inside!" I cried to Mr. Shin and

closed the door after him. Then I ran down the lull to

where I had left my jeep. Two men ran past me.

"Where is the man? What did you do to him?" I

shouted after them. "We beat him up!" one of them

flung back. "But he got away," the other cried. I

searched the hill for Mr. Harm but in vain. Trucks

were roaring up the hill, Hghting up the darkness with

their searchlights. A platoon of MPs joined the others and our guards. The mob broke up; many tried to run

away but were checked by the cordon of soldiers.

Within ten minutes or so all was quiet.

I had not been able to find Mr. Hann.

Park and I searched the area once more. We drove down the hill slowly, stopping here and there to hsten

for footsteps or to explore the hushed lanes between

the silent houses; we inquired of nearly half a dozen

patrols; nothing. We were already on the dark, de- serted main street.

188

Park suggested, "We should go back to the house.'*

I shook my head. "Come. Let's go," I said. "Let's

try your father's church."

"Why? Why there? How could he have gone there?"

"I'll explain later," I said.

I could not tell how he had managed to run all that

way so quickly and without having been stopped by

the patrols. We found the young minister at the devastated church, his face cut and bruised, his mouth

swollen and bloody, as he lay unconscious, sprawled

over the stone steps outside the silent, desolated

church.

By the time Park had brought Mr. Shin and Chap-

lain Koh to our headquarters, I had had Mr. Hann

moved to the office of the dispensary, where he lay

covered with a blanket on a cot. I had called an am-

bulance to take him to a field hospital across the river.

Mr. Shin, flanked by the chaplain and Park, gazed in

grief at the grotesquely battered face of the young]

minister, who was hardly breathing.

"The shouting of the mob frightened him," whis-

pered the chaplam. "It is my fault. He could not con-

trol himself and I had to hold onto him to quiet him j

down. A stone broke the window upstairs where wej

were and I let go of him for a moment to open thel

189

dooT to take him down to the basement. Then he ran

off and . . ."

"Enough, Chaplain," said Mr. Shin.

A few minutes later, Mr. Hann began gasping for breath. His eyes suddenly opened wide and his whole

body trembled under the dark-brown blanket.

"I am here!" Mr. Shin said softly. "Can you see me?

Can you hear me?"

The bloodshot eyes stared into empty space; the

Ups quivered.

Mr. Shin held the young man's bony hand. "I am

here with you. Can you hear me? I am here with you."

The young man's eyes rested on Mr. Shin for a

second; then his head rolled to the right; his mouth

twitched.

A second later, we heard the faint, broken voice: "No . . . God . . . no . . . God ..." A series of convul- sions seized his body, then suddenly stopped. The

body lay still under the raw light of a naked light bulb,

shrouded in the silent gaze of those present.

A moment later, Park said quietly, "He is dead." Mr. Shin, his face pale, with a strange faraway

look, stood motionless, as though paralyzed in the

presence of death. "I have killed him," he muttered.

"I have kiUed him."

^;i^^l^^^^;^^;j^;^^^ 25

MRS. HANN WAS determined to bring the body of her son back to her village, where she wanted to bury

him, near the graves of his ancestors. Mr. Shin, Chap-

lain Koh, and Park accompanied her and the body to

the village a few miles west of Pyongyang. I was un-

able to join them; I could only provide transportation

for the journey, from which they returned a day later.

Mrs. Hann, however, did not return.

The day after they were back. Chaplain Koh came

to headquarters early in the afternoon to infonn me

there was to be a special service that evening at Mr.

Shin's church; he said he hoped he would see me

there. The announcement had been sent out to other

churches and the chaplain expected many from their

congregations would attend. Of course, Mr. Shin

would be present.

"Very much present," the chaplain added.

190

191

"After what happened the other night?" I said. "I

should think he'd be afraid to risk it."

"He's not easily frightened," Chaplain Koh said.

I remained in my oflBce for an hour or so before I

attended a staff meeting. Around five o'clock, as I

prepared to go out, Colonel Chang telephoned me to

say that he had been told by Chaplain Koh about the

special service, which he wanted to attend; he invited

me to join him. However, he was unable to leave for

some time as he was working on a report concerning

his transfer. I told him that I would wait for him in

my oflSce.

When we were at last ready to leave, the howling

Siberian winds were blasting the city with gusts of

slashing snow.

The service had already begun; even before we had

struggled to the top of the steps we could hear the

singing of the congregation mingled with the wind and

the snow. When we passed through the small gate

Colonel Chang said, "Do you remember what I said

about this church when we were here last time?"

"About how it was saved from our bombing?"

"Yes. You know, I am beginning to wonder if it

would have made any difference whether this build-

ing was destroyed or not. Do you understand me?"

"I suppose the only thing that could have mattered

192

was how long it would have taken the Christians to

rebuild it, either here or somewhere else."

"Precisely. In the meantime, they would be meeting

someplace. It doesn't matter where."

"That's how Christianity in this country has man-

aged to survive."

"Do you realize that ever since Christianity came to

this land, these people have never had a peaceful day?

After aU the persecution by Chinese, Koreans, Jap-

anese, and now Communists, they are still here. Where

do they get this abiUty, even liking, for suffering?

Listen to them singing!"

"With the promise of heaven and eternity, perhaps,"

I said.

"Is that aU? Anyone can promise that," he said,

"one way or the other. Buddhist, Shintoist, Commu-

nist, Hindu, you name them."

'There is one thing pecuUar to Christianity, Colo-

nel," I said. "Someone died for their sins, for their

salvation, and this someone happens to be the son of

their god."

"A very strange notion," he said. "Sacrifice, mar-

tyrdom."

We opened the door and entered the church, where we were met by Chaplain Koh, who was acting as an

usher.

"I have been expecting you," he said. "I am glad

you came. Follow me."

193

Colonel Chang said that we would stay in the back.

"Oh, no. You two are our guests of honor. Cap-

ain Park is up there with Mr. Shin already. So come

long."

"I suppose I am in your house," said the colonel.

Well, coming, Captain?"

We followed the chaplain up the aisle, flanked by he congregation that still sang, standing. Only a few

)f the chandeliers were lighted. A cold draft chilled ny bare head, though I felt the warmth of human

)odies surrounding me. Halfway up the aisle, I looked

ip toward the altar, behind which stood the elders,

^ark and a few others, and Mr. Shin. Soon Colonel

Zhang and I were with them, facing the congregation.

Vlr. Shin stepped forward. The candles on the lectern

lickered. The congregation sat, hushed.

"Dear brethren," he began quietly. "You all know

who I am, and I know you. I know you, yes, I know

iyou so well that I do not hesitate to say that I belong

to you and you belong to me. I am you, you are me,

and we are one. And I stand here in the shadow

of my inglorious past, and say to you, welcome to the house of our Lord. This house of our Lord is filled

tonight, and I am out there with you and you are up

here with me. We are here together as one to worship our God and praise Him. Amen."

Scattered voices in the congregation said, "Amen."

194

"I know you well, so well that I know you did not

come tonight to this house of our Lord to worship

Him. You came to hear me. And I shall speak to you

and you shall hear me. I am you and you are me. But

who am I?" He paused. "I am a sinner."

He paused again for a long moment; then, sud-

denly, his powerful voice boomed. "You came to hear

me, a sinner, and you shall hear me, a sinner! Open

your eyes! Bare your hearts! And hear! It was I who

betrayed our martyrs!" He stopped, his hands clutch-

ing the lectern, his body bent slightly forward. He

had stressed "I" so strongly that the high-ceilinged

interior of the church rang with a vibrating "I" in a

tremulous echoing that pervaded the dim, cold air

". . . I . . . I . . ." Not a soul stirred.

He said quietly, "On the eighteenth day of June, as

you all know, the Communists imprisoned fourteen

ministers, and I was one of them. On the twenty-fifth

day, twelve ministers were murdered. For seven days

and nights, they tortured our martyrs. My dear brethren, I say to you that they tormented the flesh

of your martyrs for seven days and nights. I say, 'flesh

of your martyrs,' for they could not harm their spirits.

But how did they torture your martyrs?"

To my surprise—and uneasiness—Mr. Shin, for the next twenty minutes or so, described to the congre-

gation in the minutest detail how each minister was

195

tortured, one after another, all twelve of them. Mr.

Hann, said Mr. Shin, collapsed after three days and

nights of torture and became ill. At first it seemed that

the silent congregation was spellbound by the blood-

smeared description, but gradually it began to bestir

itself; the rustling of clothes, coughing, and concen-

trated heavy breathing disturbed the cold air.

Suddenly a woman shrieked. Cries went up. The

entire congregation stirred with agitation. Some of the

elders rose to their feet. Chaplain Koh hurried over

to Mr. Shin, who stood unmoved, rigidly facing the

crowd.

A voice in the back shouted, "Away with you!" and another voice, "We don't want to hear from you!"

Then a woman hissed, "You—a sinner! How dare you defile our martyrs!"

Colonel Chang jumped up from his chair, as did I.

There was a murmur of voices. Here and there women

were sobbing. The two candles on the lectern flared

up. A woman was being carried down the aisle toward the door. Many were standing. Several men came up

the aisle. I stepped forward, followed by Colonel

Chang, and we stood at the edge of the platform fac-

ing the congregation. "Do you think we should get

him out of here?" the colonel whispered. I was about

to say yes, when Mr. Shin, taking everyone by sur-

prise, struck the lectern fiercely with both palms. He

196

lifted his face toward the ceiling, his eyes closed; his

fingers gripped the front edge of the lectern. Then he

lowered his dark, angry face, opened his eyes, and

gazed sternly at the congregation.

He spoke in a hushed voice. "My brethren, what is

the matter with you?" He paused, looking about him at

the congregation as if he wanted to distinguish each

individual. Then he shouted, "Sinners! Weaklings!

Can you not share with your martyrs their suffering!

Do you not want to share their suffering! Do you not

want to taste the blood they shed, hear the agonies of

their voices, hear the breaking of their bones! Can

you not, do you not want, to hear the voices of your

martyrs, their last prayers! Can you not share the

heavy load of their sacrifice, their sacrifice for you!"

The congregation had grown deathly silent.

He continued, now quietly, "I—do you hear me?—

j

/ could not. / was a sinner. / was a weakling. / was

defeated. / submitted to the forces of evil. And / let

myseff be paralyzed by the ^thering breath of de-

spair!" He paused, then his voice rang out, "Blessed

be the names of your martyrs! For they forgave me.

And they died in the name of our Lord, for His glory

and in His glory. They died, and / Hved. Glory to your

martyrs! Blessed be their memories in your souls. Hal-j

lelujah! Amen!"

"Amen!" responded the congregation.

197

Colonel Chang and I returned to our chairs. The

long, dark shadow of Mr. Shin stretched in front of

me. Robed in black, he stood erect and firm.

He told the hushed congregation how the martyrs

resisted their captors. The Communists wanted them

to issue a public statement that the Christians in North

Korea supported the Communist regime, that they

upheld the "liberation" of South Korea by the North

Korean Communist regime and urged everyone to

join and help the "Army of Liberation." The ministers

were offered, in turn, a promise that a post in the gov-

ernment cabinet would be given to a representative of

the Christians, that those Christians held by the Com-

munists as political prisoners would be freed uncon-

ditionally, and the property of the churches would not

be confiscated by the regime. They refused everything,

and they were tortured. Their captors then demanded

that the ministers sign a petition to the Communist

Pany that they be admitted to its membership. This,

too, they refused to do, and were tortured. Then the

Communists commanded them to sign a proclamation

which stated that they "wholeheartedly obeyed and

cooperated with the government," and urged fellow

Christians to do the same. The ministers refused to

sign and were tortured again.

"And they laughed at us," said Mr. Shin. "They

said it did not really matter whether or not we signed.

198 .

They laughed at us, my brethren, saying it did not

really matter, because the Christians in the North did

obey and did cooperate wholeheartedly with the Com-

munist regime. They said they did not hear any com-

plaints from the Christians, did not hear any voices

of protest. Christians must be contented and happy,

they said. Christian children joyfully sang hymns of

praise for the Communist heroes, they said. Chris-

tian young men happily donned the uniform of the

Red Army, willing to die for the Communist paradise,

they said. Look at your churches and count how many

of your Christians are still there, they said. Your

churches are becoming emptier and empti». Chris-

tianity was dying out in the North, they said. But your

martyrs were not defeated; they defied the torturers.

But, my brethren, / could not, / did not!'*

After a long moment of silence, he said, "When I

succumbed to my torturers, they brought me to your

martyrs and said to them, 'Look, here is a man who

is sensible, practical, and able to live by the wisdom of

'

this earth. This is the man who truly represents your

,

Christians. Look, we shall let him Uve and be free,

but you shall die unless you follow his wisdom.* My brethren, what did your martyrs do?" He stretched hisj

arms upward and raised his voice. "Blessed be yoi

martyrs! Hallowed be their names! They forgave me^

/ was forgiven, do you hear! / was forgiven. And the]

199

embraced me and shed tears and said to me, 'Do not

be discouraged. We will pray for your soul. Do not despair, do not despair, for the Kingdom of God is

near and we shall triumph. Do not despair, do not

despair!' Do you hear me, my brethren? Do not de-

spair! These were the words with which your martyrs

forgave me. And they died . . . for me . . . and for you.

"And on their last night on earth, as they were

standing by the dark water of the Taedong River,

waiting to be martyred, they offered their last prayer

to the Lord. They prayed for me—and for you; they loved me and they loved you till their last moment.

And they turned to me, and your martyrs said to me,

'We pray for you and you shall pray for us. TeU your

brethren when you return to them that we love them

and care for them, that we shall soon relate to our

Lord the agonies of their sufferings, the heavy burden

of despair. TeU them we do not die in vain, that we

die in the name of our Lord, in the glory of our Lord,

we die gladly for our brethren, for their sufferings

and for their sins. Tell them that we shall meet again

soon in the glorious, everlasting Kingdom of God, the

paradise of our Lord. Go and tell them that we shaU

watch over them.' Then the enemies came and took

me by the arms and made me stand there and watch

the murder of your martyrs." He lowered his arms,

and spread them wide; he lifted his face, and said,

200

"And, my bretbren, our enemies murdered your mar-

tyrs one after another and as volley after volley of

murderous bullets shattered the dark night, a mighty

hymn rose high into the dark heaven from the souls

of your martyrs, and behold, the black clouds were

suddenly :>haken asunder by the moon and in the

silvery light I saw, yes, I saw the heavenly smiles on |

the faces of your martyrs and I heard, yes, I heard, a

thundering voice from the heavens, *You are my chil-

dren in whom I am well pleased. Do not despair, do

not despair, for you have won the battle!' And I stood

there like a stone, and I stretched my arms toward

the majestic voice of our Almighty Lord, tears rolling

down my cheeks, and I cried out from the bottom of

my soul, 'Father, forgive me!' And I heard the mighty

voice say, 'Repent! Repent and enter ye into my King-

dom. Repent!' And I fell down on my knees and cried

out, 'Father, I repent. Forgive this sinner, for I shall

not, I shall never, never again despair!' And my soul

was suddenly light and clear, and I stood on my feet,

I opened my eyes, and I blessed your martyrs, yes,

I blessed—/ blessed them for you. Glory to your mar- tyrs! Glory to our Lord! Hallelujah! Amen!"

"Hallelujah! Amen!" echoed the voices of the con-

gregation.

Mr. Shin cried out, "You! Sinners! Down, down on

your knees and repent! I say unto you in the name of

201

your martyrs, repent, ye sinners, for my sins and for

your sins. Repent!" He stopped for breath, and whis-

pered in a strange, tremulous voice, "In the name of

the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, Amen."

I woke as from a spell and looked about me. Every-

one—everyone but Mr. Shin, who stood with his head lowered—everyone but Colonel Chang, who had risen from his chair, and Park, who still sat staring into the

shadowy space above him—everyone was on his knees. The surge of their voices engulfed my senses.

I looked at Park; our eyes met, and he looked away.

Colonel Chang drew near to Mr. Shin.

"Mr. Shin, I must leave now," he said, "but I wanted

to tell you before I go that it is an honor to know you."

The minister's face, expressionless, turned to the

colonel; he bowed.

I asked Colonel Chang to wait for me, and went up

to Mr. Shin. His dark eyes looked deeply into mine.

I had to say it; I could not help saying it. "Mr. Shin,

is your god truly aware of their sufferings?"

He closed his eyes for a second. He held my arm

with one hand and, with the other, he pointed to the

kneeling congregation. His face was bathed with tears;

but he did not speak.

^;^;^^;^^^;^^^^^^ 26

THE NEXT MORNING, Colonel Chang left Pyong- yang for Seoul to work out with the Chief of Intelli-

gence the details of his future operation. Before he

left headquarters, he called me to his ofl&ce, where

I found him stuffing a brown briefcase with papers.

It was cold in his room; the stove had not been kindled.

As soon as I closed the door and approached him,

he said, "Well, let's have it. What is your estimation

of the situation last night? What do you think of it?"

I did not know what to say. I had parted with him

the night before when I had driven him to his quar-

ters; we had not mentioned Mr. Shin on our way back

from the church.

"Well, how do you estimate Mr. Shin's conduct?"

he said. "He gave them what they wanted, don't you

think?"

"Yes, he did what I hoped he would," he said, when

202

203

I remained silent. "Only in a different way from the

one I had in mind, that is, not as a man with an im-

peccable conscience but as a sinner." He closed the

briefcase with a faint cUck, then locked it. "It's a

strange notion beyond my comprehension that some-

body dies for your sins and for your salvation. I don't

believe in their god and their doctrines; the notion

that those twelve martyrs—well, they are martyrs now, aren't they?—that they died for me is meaning- less; actually, the notion would never occur to me.

But that seems to be the only way these Christians

could accept and worship the ministers as their mar-

tyrs." He studied my face for a moment, "Captain,

I hope you don't think I am too curious, but you asked

Mr. Shin a question last night, didn't you? Something

about his god. Do you mind my asking about it?'*

"I asked him if his god was aware of the people's

sufferings."

"I could have asked the same question," the colonel

said. "I suppose it's because we are outsiders."

"Outsiders?"

**Nonbelievers, that is. If you believe in a god, you

wouldn't ask that question. You would rather ask what

you have done wrong against him to deserve your

suffering. Well, I think I'd better be going. Good luck.

Captain, and I hope it won't be long before you can

return to your university. I don't think I'll be back

204

in the building again. When I return from Seoul, I

will be underground."

"Wni I see you again, sir?"

"Oh, yes," he said, smiling. "I will be at the me-

morial service. Of course, I shall have to be incognito.

What's the matter. Captain? You look dubious. You

don't think there is going to be a memorial service. Is

that it?"

He smiled as we shook hands. I saluted Him and left

his office.

So, at last, **this little affair*' was over. With bitter-

ness, I reflected on the recent events and realized

that I had been tricked into a sort of nice little game,

in which both the pursuer and the pursued skillfully

staged a clever play of intrigues, of plots and counter-

plots, all this only to reveal that they were fellow con-

spirators, after all. I felt cheated. In a moment of

fury, I promised myself that I would have nothing

further to do with them. And yet I could not help

thinking of Mr. Shin. I could not forget his sorrowful

face or that he had not uttered a word in reply to my

question.

For the next few days I did not see him, nor much

of Park or Chaplain Koh either, not because I was

too busy to see them, but because they were always

205

together as they moved from one church to another.

Mr. Shin was conducting a series of revival meetings,

which the local papers reported fulsomely. They told

of the zeal and magnitude of those meetings; each day

the number of people who were converted to Chris-

tianity was printed together with a substantial excerpt

from Mr. Shin's sermon. Urged by the chaplain, I

attended one meeting and found that it was merely

an extension of the service I had attended at Mr. Shin's

own church; I left the meeting just as I had left the

one before, seeing his face everywhere, stem and

imperious, as he gazed at the prostrated congregation

while he stood erect behind the lectern. He had not

resigned from his ministry; the Christians would not

hear of it; and he deUvered his words from every pul-

pit in the city, constantly surrounded by a troop of

ministers, who sat demurely in his shadow during

those meetings.

Meanwhile, preparations for the memorial service

were in progress. Following the departure of Colonel

Chang, Chaplain Koh had assumed sole responsibility

of overseeing the arrangements. I had reached an

understanding with him that the Army, or rather its

Political Intelligence section, should not underwrite

the memorial service. I had no difficulty in getting

him to agree with me, explaining that we should not

commit the error of giving the pubUc an impression

206

that the propaganda machinery of Army Intelligence

was masterminding the service. I might have added

that I did not wish to be an accompUce in placing

haloes on false martyrs, had I not seen plainly that the

chaplain was anxious not to touch upon that subject.

Everything was going according to plan, he said; Park

had consented to represent the families of the twelve

ministers at the service, at which he was to be one of

the speakers; Mr. Shin, of course, would be the main

speaker.

Left alone, I devoted my time to operations. Soon

after Colonel Chang left for Seoul, we received in-

structions from headquarters to prepare ourselves se-

cretly for a probable evacuation from Pyongyang.

We were also instructed to devise and carry out later certain measures against possible alarm and panic on

the part of the civilian population when the withdrawal

should become apparent. The massive Chinese inter-

vention in the war had definitely been established by

higher headquarters. We anticipated that the people would be shocked and fearful to learn that we did not

intend to defend them; and higher headquarters did

not allow us to give out any intimation of the impend-

ing general retreat not only from Pyongyang but from

all of North Korea.

The weather had been unusually severe; the snow

storms continued day after day and on the bleak

207

northern streets that had not seen the sun for days

few people walked in the knee-deep snow past the

shattered windows and nailed doors. Our morale was

low; a damp, conspiratorial hush pervaded the rooms

and halls, where we who knew what the others did

not spent those gray days and cold nights waiting for

the order to pack our things and run. The oflScers

were asked to contribute to a fund, which the local

YMCA and YWCA were raising, to enable orphan- ages to celebrate Christmas; they gave what they

could, knowing full well that there would doubtless

be no merry Christmas for those who would be left

behind. I felt sick to find myself forced into taking

part in this grand deception, as it were; and I was

ashamed.

It was, then, in such a mood that I saw Chaplain

Koh in my oflBce a few days before the memorial

service. He stood with his back pressed against the

window, his large body framed in the frosty window-

panes. Outside, snow flurries bleached the gray sky.

After briefing me on the progress of preparations

for the service, he asked me if I had seen Mr. Shin

lately.

••No, I haven't. You know that."

••He has asked me about you on several occasions."

•Tve been busy," I said.

He scrutinized me. •'! suppose you have been.**

208

"You will be leaving Pyongyang after the service,

I assume?" I asked him.

"Yes. I'll have to join my brigade, if I am not per- mitted to have my way."

"What do you mean?"

**I have sent in my resignation to the Army," he said.

"Then you intend to stay here?"

"Of course, I'll have to wait and see what the Army

is going to do with me."

I could not tell him about the Army's plan for gen-

eral retreat nor about the instructions we had received.

He was not allowed access to classified information.

"I have been asked to return to my old church

here," he said. "Remember the old man I told you

about, one of the elders? He came to see me the other

day and we had a pleasant chat. Can you beUeve it?"

"Did you tell him the truth about his son?" I said.

"Of course not."

"I thought you were determined to tell the truth."

He looked hard at me, "I couldn't do that."

"So you told him a lie," I said, "a nice Uttle he."

He came over to me and confronted me. "Why?

Why are you so bitter. Captain? Don't you understand

what Mr. Shin has done? Don't you realize what he

has done for the Christians?"

When I did not respond he said gravely, "I owe him

209

so much. I have learned so much from him. My own faith has been strengthened through him, through his

acts, and through his words of faith, an incomparable

faith! He has helped me to examine the condition of

my faith and my relationship with my God and, above

all, with my fellow Christians." He gripped my arm.

"Captain, is it possible that you despise Mr. Shin?"

He added quietly, "And me?" He shook his head. "I

am sorry." After a moment of silence he said, "The

elders of my old church were happy to have me back.

I tell you I was grateful that they wanted me to come

back to them. My Lord, they are even proud of me . . . me, someone who deserted them once!" He let my

arm go. "Perhaps it was what I secretly wished for

when I came to Pyongyang."

"To forgive the old man?" I said. "To forgive

them?"

He shook his head, smiling. "No. To be forgiven."

I turned away from him. "Good-bye, Chaplain," I

said.

He held onto my hand. "Captain, Captain!"

Slowly shaking his head, he said in a voice unmis-

takably tinged with pity, "You do despise us, don't

you?"

That evening. Park, who had been staying at Mr.

Shin's, came to see me. He was in a hurry and apolo-

210

gized that he could not stay long, for he was on his

way to the house of an elder of his father's congre-

gation.

Declining the chair I offered him, he said, "It seems

that the elders got together and talked about me. They

thought I should come and stay with them. I will stay

at this elder's I am going to tonight, then at another's

tomorrow.'*

"I am glad to hear about that," I said.

"It was strange to see all those famiUar faces,*' he

said. "I had thought they had forgotten about me. I

must admit that I was not too sure whether they would

want to see me, after all. Frankly I was surprised when

they invited me. You know—the elders gathered quite a few people and gave a feast, you might say, in my

honor. Can you believe it? Have you noticed the tent

in the back of the church?"

"No, I haven't."

*They have a tent there," he said, "and that's where

they meet for service. Mr. Shin has spoken to them

there, and —

"

I interrupted him. "When do you plan to leave

Pyongyang?"

He looked at me as though startled by the question.

"I haven't really thought about it," he said. "Why do

you ask?"

"I want to make arrangements for your transporta-

tion," I said. "I have to know your plans."

211

He remained silent.

"I understand you agreed to represent the families

of the twelve at the service," I said.

Still silent, he gazed at me, nodding only slightly.

"Are you going through with it?" I said.

His gaze became intense. "Yes," he declared. "I

am. I had a talk with Chaplain Koh. He has been to

see you today, hasn't he? It seems to me that you are

dehberately refusing to understand what we are

doing."

"I am sending you back as soon as the service is

over," I said. "To Pusan. You will report to the Ma-

rine Corps headquarters there."

"Why to Pusan? Our liaison officer told me the same

thing," he said, unmistakably agitated. "I have to join

my unit."

I had already arranged with the Marine liaison offi-

cer to have Park return to headquarters in Pusan;

I had also asked him not to mention the general re-

treat, since Park was not an inteUigence officer. I said,

"It may be difficult for you to locate your company by

the time you are ready to leave Pyongyang. Even

now, we can't locate it. You must have been told

about that."

"Yes."

"There you are. I will arrange it so that you can

leave the day after the service. After all, you came

here to fulfill a certain function at the service, which

212

you will be doing. After that, I have to send you back

as soon as I can."

"Yes, I understand," he said quietly. "But I would

like to stay here a few more days, weU, as long as

possible. The elders are talking about raising funds to

rebuild the church. I would like to do something for

them before I leave."

"I am sorry."

Suddenly he strode over to me and glared at me.

"What is the matter with you? What is it? Do you

despise me, too?"

I was agitated beyond control. "No! I don't despise

you or anyone," I almost shouted. "It is what you all

are doing that I despise!" Then trying to moderate my

voice, I went on, "You say you give them what they

want, what they need. But why deceive them? Why

deceive the people who have been cheated countless

times already? Why add more Ues to their miserable

lives? You say you give them what they want? How

do you know that a pack of lies is what they want?

Are you sure that is what they need? They need truth.

It may be painful but truth is what they need and what

you must give them. You say you do all this for them,

for their happiness. But no! You do it because you

want your propaganda. You do it because you want to

save your church from being scandalized. You do it

because you want to deceive the people into believ-

213

ing that everything is all right, everything is going to

be all right, that a god in heaven takes good care of

them, that a state sincerely worries about their lot,

and all this in the name of the people. I am tired, I am

sick of all this pretension, all these noble lies, all in

the name of people, for the people. And meanwhile

the people continue to suffer, continue to die, deceived

from birth to death."

"Listen to me!" Park cried out. "Would you like

to know what really happened to my father?"

"I know," I said. "Fve read the letter Mr. Shin

wrote you."

"I know that. But that isn't all," he said impatiently.

"Let me tell you about it, instead of arguing about

what you just said. When the ministers were taken to

the riverbank to be shot, the Communists gave them

two minutes to say whatever they wanted for the last

time. My father was their leader, as everybody knows. The ministers gathered around him. They asked him

to pray for them."

"Including the betrayers?"

"No. Ah, it infuriates me to think of what they did.

Mr. Shin wouldn't tell me at first but I forced him to

tell me. Those betrayers were wailing, they were beg-

ging the Communists for mercy, crying out to remind

the Reds what they had done in their service, remind-

ing them of the bargain. That's when the other minis-

214

ters knew about the betrayers for the first time. So

they asked my father to pray, to pray for their souls

and for their salvation, for their courage, to pray for

the last time on earth. And my father, that blazing

fanatic—^he didn't pray, do you imderstand? He didn't pray. 'I can't pray for you,' he said. *I can't even pray

for myself.' Then he cried out 'I do not want to pray

to an unjust God!' So he died, as Mr. Shin said, in

utter solitude.

'That's when the young minister broke down. Did

you know that he had been my father's protege? He

had beUeved in my father, beUeved in everything the

old fanatic said to him about his God, and his faith.

And what he had been taught, molded into, and made

to beUeve in—all by my father—that was what sus- tained him in those terrible days and nights in cap-

tivity. His body broke down but his spirit survived

the ordeal because of his faith in God, because of the

brave resistance the old fanatic offered his enemies.

And then, at the last moment . . ."

He stopped abruptly and turned away, then quietly

said, "Good night. I must be going now."

I saw him out of the room. "Do you pray?" I said.

"Can you pray?"

"I can't," he whispered. "Do you understand me?

I can't!"

"Do you want to pray?"

215

"Yes. Yes, I do," he said. "I wish I could."

I held his arm. "Are you returning—or have you already returned to the Christian God?"

With an intensity that disturbed me, he said, "It

seems that I have never really left Him. He has been

my God ever since I was bom. How can I explain it

to you? He has been always with me. Otherwise

how could I have been fighting against Him all these

years?"

"Are you still fighting Him?"

He cast me a defiant look but he did not speak.

"Good night," I said.

"Listen! I must tell you," he said. "I am not going

to this elder's house or any elder's because / want to.

Do you understand that? I am not fulfilling a certain

function, as you said, because / want to."

"I don't understand you," I said.

"It is Mr. Shin, don't you see?" he said. "He per-

suaded me to go to the elders of my father's congre-

gation. 'Go to them,' he said, 'and let them welcome

you—the return of a prodigal son. Go to them and tell them that you have returned, you have returned

to your father to be forgiven, returned to the faith of

your father, their faith. Go and comfort them, because

they have suffered much, and you can give them what

they want to see—the return of a repentent son.' He also persuaded me to be of use to the memorial serv-

216

ice. Many will think that my return to my father, to

my father's faith, is a miracle, as it were, bom of the

sacrifice of my father and the ministers."

"Why didn't you tell him you couldn't do it? How

can you, when you don't believe in what you are

doing?"

" 'Then, pretend,' he said to me," Park whispered.

"Pretend!"

"But why! Why!"

"For the people, don't you see?" he said passion-

ately. "For the poor, suffering, tortured people, can't

you see?"

We parted in silence.

^^ii^^l^;^^^l^^;i^^;j^ 27

IN DUE COURSE, headquarters sent us detailed in- structions to evacuate the detachment from Pyong-

yang and return to Seoul. Colonel Chang's replace-

ment would join us there; until then I was to super-

vise the evacuation, and upon its completion I was

ordered to report for a new assignment at Army head-

quarters. According to the instructions, we were to

leave Pyongyang four days after the memorial service:

November 25, 1950.

Meanwhile the enraged and frightened populace

took to the streets of the tense city for a series of mass

demonstrations. The people were protesting against

the Chinese intervention; they were reminding us of

the hope and promise we had brought to them at the

time of their liberation; and they were demanding

that we counter the Chinese invaders with a full-scale

offensive. In the bombed-out square and in the snow-

217

218

covered stadium massive rallies went on; loudspeakers

set up at various street comers carried angry voices,

impassioned caUs to arms, invoking the spirit of lib-

erty. Under the gray sky in the interminable snow,

colunm after column marched through the streets; the

wet snow shrouded the banners hoisted on bamboo

poles, blotted out the inked messages on the cardboard

placards.

We disposed of our possessions, burning stacks of documents and papers and crating office equipment

and propaganda material. By noon on November 21,

we were ready to dispatch an advance party by rail to

Seoul.

At 11 A.M., I went to the station to supervise the

departure of the advance party, but the train could

not leave on time; it was delayed by emergency trains

—two southbound, laden with tanks, trucks, and field guns, and one empty hospital train bound north. By

two o'clock I was able to leave the station and return

to headquarters, where I had to preside over a staff

meeting. According to intelligence reports, the battle

situation was becoming tense; our forces were pre-

paring for an offensive along the entire front. A little before three, I managed at last to leave for the me-

morial service.

I was not too late; an usher who greeted me at the

door told me the service had begun only a short time

before. He gave me a copy of the program, whispering

219

that the short, stocky man in the black suit who was

addressing the congregation was the mayor of the

city. Mr. Shin had akeady spoken briefly, as had the

commanding general of the Korean troops in the city,

who represented the President of the RepubUc, and a

representative from the U. S. Army Command in

Pyongyang. After the mayor would come the delegate

from the Federation of Christian Churches in South

Korea; the representative of the foreign missions; the

chairman of the Anti-Conmiunist Youth Association;

Chaplain Koh, representing the Christians in North

Korea; and then Park as the representative of the

martyrs' famihes. The eulogies were to be followed by

the posthumous presentation of Freedom Medals to

the martyrs, hymns by a mixed choir from the YMCA and YWCA, and a benediction by Mr. Shin. On the wall above the platfonn hung twelve large

black-ribboned portraits of the martyrs, dimly Ut by

twinkling candles on the altar. On both sides of the

platform sat dignitaries, famihes of the martyrs, and

others. The mayor left the lectern; the next speaker

came forward. The delegate from the Federation of

Christian Churches in the South bowed to the por-

traits, to the martyrs' famihes, to the honored guests,

then to the congregation, and bejan, "My dear fel-

low Christians, my dear brethren in the north . . ."

It was during the impassioned oratory of the young

chairman of the Anti-Communist Youth Association

220

that I heard someone whisper to me: "I say, you

missed hearing Mr. Shin." I turned my head and saw

on my right a gray-haired old man in a cotton-padded

dirty white robe. I did not recognize him until he

whispered, "How are you, young man?" It was Colonel

Chang. He had shed his glasses and was leaning on a

cane.

"He did a marvelous job," he whispered. "No one,

I am sure, could glorify the martyrs as well as he did."

"Indeed."

"Yes, sir, he made a lot of us weep."

The young chairman concluded his speech,

"There comes the Reverend Koh now," he said.

"He is going back to his old church, you know."

"Is he going to stay here?" I said.

"Only his god knows."

". . . and sons against fathers, brothers against

brothers," Chaplain Koh was saying, ". . . reveling in

their senseless murder . . . forever thirsty for the blood

of vengeance . . . eternal captives of their mortal

hatred . . ."

"Ah," Colonel Chang sighed. "Now I've lost him."

The door squeaked open and one of my officers

slipped in. I edged along the wall toward him. We went

outside.

"It's the train, Captain," he said. "I thought I should

let you know."

221

The train carrying the advance party of my detach-

ment had been blown up, presumably by mines, sixty

miles south of Pyongyang.

"Guerrillas?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. Our choppers spotted them in the nearby

hills. We are tracking them down." "Any casualties?"

"Two killed; seven wounded; four, seriously. The

rest of the party is all right. The Ueutenant in charge

has called for your instructions."

"Tell him to proceed to Seoul according to the

original instructions. And you get hold of a truck and

drive down there. The road is safe, I suppose."

"It's heavily patrolled."

"All right. Do what you think is best. I'll be back

at headquarters as soon as I can. Any further news

from the front lines?"

"A couple of regiments have been attacked by the

Chinese on the west. Much infiltration there. Nothing

from the east."

He left and I went back into the church.

Chaplain Koh was reading from the Bible:

". . . though we hve in the world we are not carrying

on a worldly war, for the weapons of our warfare are

not worldly but have divine power to destroy strong-

holds. . . ."

"Anything bad?" Colonel Chang whispered.

222

"Sabotage by the guerrillas. Blew up our train."

He swore.

"Rather hectic on the front," I said.

". . . that in due time he may exalt you. Cast all

your anxieties on him, for he cares about you. Be

sober, be watchful. Your adversary, the Devil, prowls

around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to de-

vour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the

same experience of suffering is required of your broth-

erhood throughout the world. And after you have

suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has

called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself

restore, establish, and strengthen you. To him be the

dominion for ever and ever. Amen."

Chaplain Koh finished reading from the Bible and

withdrew.

I glanced at Colonel Chang.

"No one seems to be content with speaking eulo-

gies today," he said. "Everyone has been preaching."

Park came forward and stood stiffly in his dark-

green Marine uniform, his hands gripping the lectern

tensely. "As one speaking in behalf of the famiUes of

our martyrs," he began, "I don't know how best to

express my gratitude for this opportunity. The grati-

tude of all of us for your sharing with us our sorrow

and our loss. I stand before you, penitent and recon-

ciled, but I cannot speak as well to you as my heart

223

desires." He paused and reached into his breast pocket

and took out a small book. "This is the Bible my

father gave me when I was old enough to read, and

I would like to read from this Bible, to which I have

now returned once again after many years of

exile "

Colonel Chang and I exchanged a quick glance.

Park began to read: "Why are not times of judg-

ment kept by the Almighty, and why do those who

know him never see his days? Men remove landmarks;

they seize flocks and pasture them. They drive away

the ass of the fatherless; they take the widow's ox for

a pledge. They thrust the poor off the road; the poor

of the earth all hide themselves. Behold, like wild

asses in the desert they go forth to their toil, seeking

prey in the wilderness as food for their children. They

gather their fodder in the field and glean the vineyard

of the wicked man. They lie all night naked, without

clothing, and have no covering in the cold. They are

wet with the rain of the mountains, and cling to the

rock for want of shelter. . . ."

Colonel Chang whispered, "What is he reading?"

"Job."

". . . among the olive rows of the wicked they make

oil; they tread the wine presses, but they thirst. From

out of the city the dying groan and the soul of the

wounded cries for help; yet God pays no attention to

224

their prayer." Park stopped and put down his Bible;

then, looking out at the people, he recited from mem-

ory, "From out of the city the dying groan, and the

soul of the wounded cries for help; yet God pays no

attention to their prayer." "

Mr. Shin came over to Park and put his hand on

his shoulder. Park looked gratefully at the friend of

his father's, then continued to recite;

". . . and the Lord said to Job: 'Shall a faultfinder

contend with the Almighty? He who argues with God,

let him answer it.' Then Job answered the Lord: 'Be-

hold, I am of small account; what shall I answer

thee? I lay my hand on my mouth. I have spoken once,

and I will not answer; twice, but I will proceed no

further.* Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirl-

wind: 'Gird up your loins like a man; I will question

you and you declare to me. Will you even put me in

the wrong? Will you condemn me that you may be

justified? Have you an arm like God, and can you

thunder with a voice like His?' Then Job answered

the Lord: 'I know that thou canst do all things, and

that no purpose of thine can be thwarted . . . therefore

I have uttered what I did not understand, things too

wonderful for me, which I did not know.' 'Hear and

I will speak; I will question you, and you declare to

me.' 'I had heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but

now my eyes see thee; therefore, I despise myself, and

225

repent in dust and ashes.' " Park was silent and stood

with bowed head in the sea of silence around him.

Then he stepped down and returned to his chair, fol-

lowed by Mr. Shin.

Colonel Chang touched my elbow. "I am afraid I

must leave now."

I held his arm and led him out of the church. It had

begun snowing again; the soft, thick snow fluffed

down over the gray city. We stood by a pillar. "Well, here we are," he said; and looking back

toward the door, "and there they are. How does it feel

to be an outsider. Captain?"

I did not know how to reply.

He touched my arm. "Good-bye, Captain."

"Take care of yourself, Colonel. I hope to see you

in Seoul some day," I said, taking his hand.

"Yes, let's hope so."

I watched his stooped figure slowly receding as he

limped away from me, leaning on his cane. When he

disappeared through the small gate I turned to go back

inside the church. But I stopped, turned around, and

returned to where I had just parted with Colonel

Chang. Alone, I stood there for a while, looking down

at the sorrowful city, listening vaguely to the hymns

of praise sung within by those who had their god.

Soon I left and trudged down the hill in the wet snow.

^^H^^i^^l^^^l^l^^^;^ 28

THE DAY AFTER the memorial service, at 1 p.m., I was ready to drive Park to the air base. We were standing outside headquarters, waiting for my jeep to

be brought from the motor pool. For the first time in

several days the sun shone through patches of white

clouds. There was no wind. The snow-covered city

glistened in thin, tremulous mirages. The special trans-

port plane of the Intelligence Service, which was to

carry Park to Pusan, was not leaving until 2 p.m., so

when the jeep came, I told him he did not have to

hurry. "You have about half an hour to spare," I

said. "Would you like to drive around the city for a

last look? It will be a long time before you get a

chance to come back here."

He shook his head. "I would rather take a walk,"

he said, "if you don't mind. Would you like to come

along?"

As we walked down the street, he said, "I didn't

226

227

see you yesterday at the service. Were you there?"

"I left before it was over. But I stayed long enough

to hear what you had to say."

He looked at me. "I didn't plan to read from the

Bible. I had many things in my mind that I wanted to

say, but when I got up there and faced the congrega-

tion I forgot all about them."

"Aren't you glad you read those passages?"

"I am not," he said sharply, stopping his walk.

"You know I don't, I can't believe in what I read

yesterday. I can't aflfirm as Job did.

"Do me a favor," he said suddenly. "Would you

come with me to my father's church?"

We crossed the street and walked up the slope. "When I read Mr. Shin's letter," he said, "I couldn't

fail to understand what must have been in my father's

mind at that last horrible moment. Perhaps it was the

same thing that had made me leave the church and

him. It has been my obsession ever since. Why must

we have so much injustice and misery in the world?

Why must we suffer?" We paused to stand now in front of the church. "It seemed to me, when I was

younger, that it was too easy and too simple to say

that we suffer because of our original sin or because

we have to suffer to prove our faith in God." Gazing

at the battered building, he added, "I am not so sure

any more."

"You are then coming around to Job's affirmation."

228

"I don't know. I can't yet. I resist it. Do you under-

stand me? I resist it consciously. Then why did I read

Job's words? As I stood there facing the people, look-

ing into those thousands of human eyes that have seen

horror and injustice, hunger and sickness, and sudden,

meaningless death, all waiting for me to utter the next

word, I felt Mr. Shin's hand on my shoulder as if to

say, 'Go on, go on. They are waiting for your words.

Don't stop here. Go on, and say it!' The next thing I

knew—I was giving in to God. No! I wasn't. It was Job!"

"I understand," I said.

"I grew up here and lived here for twenty years," he

said, looking at the ruins about him. "And now it is

no more."

The beU overhead clanged once, faintly.

"Come along," I said. "We'd better go."

Later when we were driving out to the air base he

said, "I have been thinking of what we said the other

night about a fairy tale. Do you understand that a

fairy tale can be an integral part of our lives? Then it

ceases to be a fairy tale. It becomes real. It becomes

something that is meant to be. What those Christians

wanted and needed was not merely a nice little story

that would give them comfort and confidence but

something that would make their lives meaningful,

something that would make their sufferings worth-

229

while. Do you recall this, I forget from where? Deeper

truth lies in the fact that the world is not meaningless

and absurd but is in a meaningless state/ Never before

have those words meant more to me than they have

during the last few days. Yes, those Christians have

something that sustains their lives in a worid that is in

a meaningless state. But we don't. Why should we

call what they have a fairy tale?"

"Because we can understand it but we can't believe

it," I said.

"The wall between our fairy tale and their reality,

if you know what I mean, sometimes seems very thin."

"But the wall is there, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "You are a stubborn man," he

said.

We arrived at the air base ten minutes before two. When Park had checked in and was about to board the

plane I told him about the plans for the general re-

treat. "We are not going to defend Pyongyang when

it comes to that," I said.

"Why didn't you tell me about it before?"

**I am sorry. This is an official secret."

With an impatient gesture he said, "And here I am,

flying out!" He added, frowning, "What about those

people? What about Mr. Shin? What about the chap-

lain? Are you going to tell them about it?"

He held my arm. *'Will you look after Mr. Shin?

Will you do that for me? He has no money, nothing

230

much to eat left in the house. Yesterday I did my best

to collect supplies for him but they won't last long.

He has been selling clothes and what not for some

time. He wouldn't take anything from his congrega-

tion. I tried to stop him from selling things but I know

he has been to the market several times."

"Why didnt' you tell me about it before?" I said.

"I didn't think you would be interested in hearing

about it. You despise him, don't you?"

Park had to go. "Listen!" he said. "It doesn't matter

what you think of him but do this for me. Will you see

to it that he gets to Seoul before it is too late? Once he

gets there, I will look after him."

I shook his hand. "Good-bye and good luck," I

said. "I will look after Mr. Shin."

"Thanks. Go and see him. Talk with him."

"I will," I promised. 'T^ke care of yourself."

The plane left five minutes after two, and I drove

back to the city.

When I reached headquarters I was told by my

orderly, who met me at the entrance, that Mr. Shin

was waiting for me in my ofl&ce.

As soon as he saw me he said, "I thought it was

about time I came to see you. I haven't seen you for

some time."

"I was at the service yesterday, Mr. Shin," I said.

231

"I arrived too late to hear you, but I understand you

did a marvelous job of glorifying the twelve martyrs."

His serene gaze did not waver. "I hope so," be said.

"You satisfied everyone."

"You too, Captain?"

"I have nothing to be satisfied or dissatisfied with,

Mr. Shin," I said. "It was your decision to glorify all

the twelve ministers and save your church from shame-

ful scandal. It was your decision. Not mine."

When he did not reply I told him that I had been to

the air base to see Park off to Pusan.

His continued silence made me uneasy. "Was there

anything special you had in mind?" I asked. "I mean

He stood up. "I must have had something in mind

to come to see you, but I seem to have forgotten what

it was." He paused. "I would rather not remember it

now. Good-bye, Captain. It was nice to have seen you

again. I am sorry I troubled you."

I tried to detain him but he rushed past me to the

door and disappeared.

I knew I had hurt him, and I hated myself for it.

That evening we had the first air raid in Pyongyang.

^^l^^^^;^^^^;^^^ 29

THE NEXT MORNING, while the feeble sun mtered through the sky plastered with gray clouds, jeeps with

loudspeakers prowled through the streets, grinding

out martial music and a young woman's hysterical,

shrill voice that appealed to the populace to be cahn

and steadfast in their trust in the United Nations

Forces; it was only a matter of a few days before the

Chinese invaders would be beaten back across the

Yalu River. Armored cars were patrolling the city

and for the first time since the liberation, antiaircraft

guns were taking up positions here and there; heavy

machine guns were set up on rooftops and street

comers; and from the air base across the river sortie

after sortie raced toward the northern sky.

While I was still in my oflBce, around eleven o'clock,

our communications officer sent up a special cable

232

233

message he had just received from Army headquarters.

It was addressed to Chaplam Koh and I was to deliver

it to him.

The message, sent by the Office of Chaplains, stated

that there had been an administrative error and that

Chaplain Koh was to report to the Chief of Chaplains

immediately; it also requested my cooperation in the

speedy departure of the chaplain from Pyongyang.

At half-past eleven I went to Mr. Shin's church,

where I knew I would find him. When I went inside,

the scanty congregation was singing a hymn. I took a

seat in the back. Between where I was and the con-

gregation there were nearly forty or so empty pews;

the grand interior of the church looked hollow with

so many seats unoccupied. The congregation sang

without the accompaniment of the pipe organ or the

choir; their voices were subdued, as if smothered by

the cold air and the empty space. When they had

finished singing and sat down, Mr. Shin emerged

from the shadows on the platform and mounted the

lectern. The sun shone through the stained glass, mak-

ing a slanted path of dusty air and hazily illuminating

Mr. Shin's right cheek. He closed his eyes for a mo-

ment, and when he opened them he said quietly, "My

dear brethren, I have nothing to say to you today.

What I would like to say and what I feel deep in my

234

heart are beyond the power of my words." He paused.

"Come. Let us offer our silent prayers."

I tiptoed out of the church and waited for the serv-

ice to be over. I heard nothing from within for some

minutes, then the congregation sang a hymn, followed

by a silent pause, presumably for Mr. Shin's bene-

diction. Presently people began to come out and

quietly drift away. The bells started clanging overhead.

Mr. Shin appeared, accompanied by three elders. They

stood at the threshold and talked to one another for a

few minutes. One of the elders glanced at me occa-

sionally, perhaps at my uniform, my pistol, and my

steel helmet. Then Mr. Shin was left alone. He came

to me. "Come, let us take a walk," he said. We went down the steps and walked over to the cliff that over-

looked the city.

Resting his hands on the iron fence, he gazed into

space.

"Mr. Shin, I would like to get you out of Pyong-

yang," I said. "I would like to take you with me to

Seoul."

"I do not understand you, Captain." He folded his

arms, frowning. "Why should you take me to Seoul?

You surprise me. Is this official?"

^'No, Mr. Shin. Please don't think the Army has

anything to do with it. It is my idea, more precisely

Park's wish, that you should leave Pyongyang. The

235

sooner you leave the better." Then I told him about

the impending general retreat of U.N. Forces from

North Korea.

"Do you mean to say that you are going to abandon

us?" he said.

"We are not going to make a stand in North Korea.

We may even give up Seoul if necessary, temporarily, of course. But I doubt we will try to come up this far

north again." I explained to him the overall situation

on the battlefront, adding that I had already dispatched

one third of my detachment to Seoul.

He listened to my words but his thoughts seemed to

be elsewhere.

"We are an intelligence detachment, an administra-

tive one, more or less. So we are evacuating now ahead

of time. But it won't be long before combat troops will

pull out of Pyongyang. The withdrawal will be sudden,

I assure you; it has already been planned."

"That doesn't leave one much of a choice does it?"

"Then will you agree to come with us?"

"I shall have to think about it," he said, "although

from what you have told me there seems to be no

alternative."

"I have a small house in Seoul, Mr. Shin. It has

survived the war so far, fortunately. I will be glad if

you will use it, since I won't be using it anyway."

'That's very considerate of you, Captain. I have a

236

few friends in Seoul and also in Pusan. I suppose I

won't be without something to do."

We then talked about people we knew in the South. I told him what it was like in Seoul and in the South in

general and what had gone on there since the end of

the war in the Pacific. He told me of his acquaintances,

most of them ministers who had studied with him at a

seminary in Japan years before. He had a sister who

was married to a man who owned an orchard on a

small island off Pusan. She had been asking him to

come and live with her family ever since he had lost

his wife several years ago. "I am ready to accept her

offer," he said, "and retire. I am looking forward to a

quiet life."

"We are leaving Pyongyang on the twenty-fifth. I

am sorry we will have to hurry," I said. I told him

about the sabotage by the Communist guerrillas. "We

are planning to leave by truck, armed, of course. It

may take longer to get to Seoul by truck but it will be

safer, I think."

He was quiet. I felt he was hardly listening.

"There is one thing I would like you to promise

me," I said. "I would like you not to tell anyone about

it."

"I understand," he said. "Of course, no one should

know what the Army is going to do."

I told him I would come to his house in the morning

of the twenty-fifth.

237

"Captain, I haven't really made up my mind yet

about leaving," he said. "I will have to think about it.'*

*T>on't thinV about it," I said a little impatiently.

"There is no time to think, no time to lose. When the

combat troops from the North and from this area

begin to pull out it will be chaotic. Unless you are

escorted by our troops you won't be able to get too

far."

We stood there, side by side, listening to the distant chiming of church bells. The sky was becoming cloudy.

A cold wind began to blow. We walked back to the church and stood at the bottom of the steps.

"Good-bye, Captain," he said, offering his hand.

I took his cold bony hand. "Mr. Shin, what was it

that you wanted to tell me yesterday?" I asked.

He did not answer, but turned away and walked up

the steps and disappeared into the empty church. I

heard the hollow interior of the church resound with

his harsh coughing. The door closed with a metallic

click.

At 10 P.M., I had the following telephone conver-

sation with Colonel Chang:

Colonel: Now, don't ask me where I am calling

from. Have you seen the chaplain yet?

I: Colonel—^I have sent word to him that I would like to see him tomorrow mom-

238

ing. The cable message from the Office

of Chaplains—did you arrange it? I think it was very thoughtful of you.

Colonel: Kind of you to say so, Captain. You do

understand why I did it, don't you?

Excessive humility can often turn into

excessive pride.

I: I think it came just in tune.

Colonel : I didn't want to see him taking a chance

of becoming a martyr. I think we have

had enough martyrs for a while, don't

you agree? What about Mr. Shin?

I: I can't say anything definite yet. I saw

him today.

Colonel: Get both of them out of here. Do what

you can but get them out before it is

too late. Well, I wish you a safe jour-

ney, Captain.

I: Thank you. Good luck to you sir. Take

care of yourself.

Colonel: You too. Give Mr. Shin and the chap-

lain my best regards.

I: I will, sir. How is your project coming

along?

Colonel: Excellent! It couldn't be better. We've

got every comer covered. All we have

to do now is to wait. I've been polishing

239

up my Chinese, ha, ha, ha! Good-bye, Captain.

I: See you in Seoul.

Colonel: We will see.

s& j& y|'^%ft Sft9vS* S*9999 30

THE NEXT MORNING Pyongyang Area Command notified me that, following the evacuation of my de-

tachment, the building would be turned over to the

Field Hospital Command; I was to meet an oflficer

from the Hospital Command to work out the details

of the transfer. A little after two that afternoon, he came to see me. Major Minn, a tall man of about

fifty, graying at the temples, had been a general

practitioner in Seoul before the war. I showed him

around the building, accompanied by my supply oflB-

cer, who explained what we could and what we could

not leave behind.

When the three of us returned to my office. Major

Minn said, "Splendid, splendid! Just leave every single

bed and whatever bedding you can spare. That will

be luxury enough for us for the time being. I tell you,

I couldn't do a damn thing on the line. We kept our

240

241

patients in those miserable tents all night. Why, they

died before you could get around to taking care of

their wounds. It was too damn cold. Ah, this wiU be

splendid! The patients will be coming in by the hun-

dreds but they will be lucky. We will find places to receive them. But what are we going to do with those

refugees who are pouring down this way? I hate to

fhinV about it. God, where will they all go in this

cold? What will they eat?" He paused and I could see

the pain in his eyes. "They keep following us but we

are pulling out too fast for them to catch up with us.

What a mess we are in!"

He got ready to go. "I keep telling myself to shut

my big mouth and just do whatever I can to save as

many lives as possible. But I can't forget the morning

in June I woke up to find that the Army had simply

vanished from Seoul overnight, blowing up the only

bridge, without even saying a word to the people

about it. I couldn't believe it! Now how do you like that, eh? You go to bed feeling secure because the

Army told you it would never give up your city, and

you wake up the next morning and see thousands of

Red soldiers and Russian tanks milling about in the

streets. And where is your trustworthy army? Way down in the South, having sneaked out like a thief in

the night. I tell you I didn't know what to do. So now

I am in the Army myself, a major and all that, and I

242

am supposed to understand the hush-hush ways of the Army—strategic, tactical, and so on. But, my God, why shouldn't we do something at least for those poor

people who are determined to follow us, starving in

this cold? I just hope it won't happen here as it did in

Seoul."

I wanted to warn him that it was exactiy what was

going to happen, but I had to keep silent.

"On my way down here, I noticed our troops were

digging in. I don't know a damn thing about how to

fight a war but it was reassuring to see them in posi-

tion. Lots of guns are out there. I guess we wUl make

a stand. Even I can guess that."

My supply officer looked at me, excused himself, and walked out.

**Maybe I shouldn't be talking like this with you in-

telligence people," Major Minn said. "I guess I am

still not used to the strange ways of the Army. You

don't know how pleased I am that this building is

being turned over to us. I say that as a doctor, you

know. I will be able to relax and do a better job on our

men once we settle in here. So, you are leaving to-

morrow?'*

*Tomorrow morning," I said.

"Back to Seoul?"

"Yes."

"Glad to hear that," he said, nodding. "You've had

your share. I can see that. I can tell you have a bad

243

knee or something there. You limp, though not too

noticeably. Wounded, I suppose?"

"Mortar," I said. "Shrapnel."

"Damn! When are we going to stop this idiotic

soldier game?"

"It has been going on since the time of creation,

hasn't it?"

He shook his head. "I tell you—there is something wicked in mankind. Ah, well."

We shook hands. "When this war is over and if I am still ahve," he

said, smiling, "maybe we will run into each other in

Seoul."

"Who knows? Perhaps we will."

"And if you get sick or something, come around to

my place. I will give you good treatment." He scribbled

his address on a piece of paper he tore from his note-

book and gave it to me. "Free of charge."

"I'll be in Seoul in a few days," I said. "Can I do

anything for you? I could look up your family if you

would like me to."

"No, thank you anyway," he said matter-of-factly.

"My wife got bombed out. We didn't have children, fortunately."

I had expected to see Chaplain Koh in the morn-

ing but it was only in the late afternoon, a few hours

after Major Minn had left, that he came to see me.

244

It was strange to see him out of uniform; he was wear-

ing a double-breasted dark suit.

He was in a cheerful mood. "I take it that you know

my resignation has been accepted," he said. "Ah, I can

see you are not interested in my new status."

"I regret to say I am not. Chaplain," I said.

"You'll get used to seeing me like this soon enough,"

he said with a grin. "Let me first give you the message

from Mr. Shin, then you can tell me why you wanted

to see me."

"When did you see him?"

"An hour or so ago," he said. "I told him I was

going to see you and he said I could tell you that you

didn't have to—you shouldn't, rather—bother to come for him tomorrow morning. I am glad you saw him,

for whatever reasons, and I don't want to pry into your

business. But what is the matter with both of you?

Did you have a quarrel?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why does he refuse to see you now? And

what is the significance of this date tomorrow morn-

ing?"

"Chaplain, we are leaving Pyongyang. Will you

come with us? To Seoul."

"Why? Why are you leaving? I can't leave my church now. But why?'*

"I am going to tell you an oflBcial secret, and you

245

know what you are expected to do with it," I said. I

explained to him about the general retreat and about

the evacuation of my detachment. "So I am escorting

you back to Seoul. You will join us, of course."

He did not hesitate at all. "I have no intention of

leaving Pyongyang with you. Not because I don't

welcome your company. But you understand. I have

my church and my congregation to look after."

"Are you sure, Chaplain? Are you determined to

stay here? You realize what that means, I hope."

I handed him the cable message. "This is for you.

Forgive me for keeping it with me so long."

He read it, looked up at me, read it again, then

handed it back to me. "When are you leaving, Cap-

tain?" he said quietly.

"You will come with us then," I said. "Tomorrow

morning."

"Tomorrow morning," he said. "So that is why Mr.

Shin doesn't want to see you. You asked him to come

with you?"

"That's right."

"He is not leaving," he said, "and I am not leaving

either, Captain."

I gave the cable back to him. "This is your order,

Captain. You are not going to ignore it."

He tore it up. 'There!" he said. "You can say you

couldn't find me."

246

Then, "Good-bye, Captain," he said. "I must hurry

to my church. We are having a special service to

baptize children bom since the war. And this evening

. . ." He stopped, glared at me with his enormous

eyes, and suddenly shouted, "So we are going to

abandon the people! My people! What did you think

I would do? Run away? Again? Betray them again?

Don't you understand I couldn't do that?" He put his

hand on my shoulder and made an obvious effort to

control himself.

"Captain, Captain," he said, "there is a loud voice

in the dark comer of my heart that says, 'Go! Why let

yourself suffer here? Go! You will be more useful else-

where, in the Army, on the battlefield. So—Go!' But I have seen, I have leamed how much my people

suffered while I was away from them. Yes, I suffered

too, but mine was easier to bear because it had the

halo of glory, hope, and promise. But theirs—it's a silent, hopeless, ugly suffering, weary and despairing."

He left me and went over to the window. "Undoubt-

edly, when it comes to the worst, there will be many

from my congregation who will leave, but I know there

will be more who will not be able to leave. Where will

they go, those old people and starving people? How

far, without food, without money, and without hope or

promise they will be cared for? The whole country

is at war. . . . This is where I must be. This is my

place, at the side of my people."

247

The telephone rang; it was from the commanding

officer of the CIC. He had put in a special request to

the Chief of Army Intelligence that an officer from

my unit be attached to him temporarily, and the re-

quest had been granted.

"It appears I am not leaving tomorrow morning

after all," I said to Chaplain Koh when I hung up. "I

have been ordered to stay here as long as I can."

He looked at me searchingly.

"I understand you, Chaplain," I said. "Perhaps,

more than you think I do. Come. I am on my way to

see Mr. Shin. If you are going that way, I will give

you a ride."

"No, thank you," he said. "I don't think you can

see him anyway now. He is out of town. He had to go

to a wedding. An elder's daughter is getting married.

You see, life goes on. He will be back tonight."

He made as if to go, yet seemed hesitant. "I'm

puzzled, Captain. You seem to have a certain kind of

influence over Mr. Shin and he over you. What is it?

I have followed him to all those revival meetings and,

you know, at each meeting he always asks me if you

were there. You weren't except at one. Why should

he have to know if you were there or not? When I

told him you weren't, I couldn't help noticing that he

seemed relieved. Why? I dared ask him one day. Do

you know what he said? He said there is something,

a question, you asked him when you first met him.

248

and whenever he sees you he is reminded of it and

that he has not answered yet, so much so that it makes

him uneasy. 'Pray for me,' he said, 'pray for my soul, and pray for him, too. His question has been terrifying

me.' That's all he said. What is it? What is it Captain?"

I did not, I dared not, reply.

"I pray for him, I pray for his soul, though it is he

who should pray for me," Chaplain Koh said. "I pray

for you too, Captain."

At ten past five, the commanding ofiBcer at CIC

called to tell me that he and I had been requested by

G-2 of the Area Command to attend a special in-

telligence meeting in his oflBce at seven.

Before going there I stopped by CIC to be briefed

on the latest intelligence reports, particularly on those

concerning the guerrilla activities south of Pyongyang.

As of 6 P.M., my detachment had officially ceased to

operate and our communications facilities had stopped

functioning.

The commanding officer, a red-faced, short, squat

lieutenant colonel, briefed me personally. After that

he said, "I am grateful that you are going to be with

us for a while. Captain. As you know, we used to

depend greatly on your detachment for information

analysis and interpretation, but now you are leaving.

The point is that there has been increased infiltration

249

in this area and we've been capturing quite a few

enemy agents and propaganda material.

•*Your new instructions are," he went on, "to dis-

patch your detachment as planned under the super-

vision of an oflSicer you designate and to stay with my

detachment imtil we evacuate. Everybody else is get-

ting out. CIC will be the only unit remaining here

that is directly controlled by Army Intelligence. We are supposed to stick it out until the last minute, then

get out. I want you to read and analyze every single

intelligence report and whatever information we can

squeeze out of enemy agents."

I drove him to the meeting and on the way, we

decided that I would continue to stay in my oflBce, if

the Hospital Command agreed.

**I am glad you don't mind staying where you are

now," he said. "You wouldn't particularly enjoy stay-

ing at CIC. There are a few things going on which

you might not want to hear or see."

Early the next morning, I drove to Mr. Shin's house.

The detachment was to leave the city shortly, and I

wanted to try once more to persuade him to leave with

them. Armored cars patrolled the hushed streets; a

man pushed a cart across the empty, wide avenue; a

Military Police jeep, blinking red lights, its radio

antenna swinging, screeched around a comer. A cold

250

wind whipped about, fluttering torn pieces of war

posters on the shop windows.

Mr. Shin was not home. An old man, who intro- duced himself as the janitor of the church, seemed to

recognize me.

"I am sorry, officer," he said, ''but he said I am not to show you in. Anyway, he isn't here. He has been

out since four in the morning."

I asked him if he could tell me where Mr. Shin might be found.

**! don't know," he said. "All I can say is somebody

is dying and the pastor had to be with him."

At 8 A.M., my detachment left Pyongyang under the command of my executive officer. From my office window I watched the trucks and jeeps leaving the

once-liberated city. The wind blew relentlessly, lash-

ing at the men and at the vehicles, and from across the

street I could hear the clanging of the bell. The

silence in our deserted headquarters seemed ominous.

I felt depressed beyond all hope.

^^^H^I^f^^^^H^^}^^ 31

I TRIED TO shake off my mood of depression by busying myself at rearranging my temporary quarters.

My supply oflficer had left half a dozen boxes of field rations, a cot, and sufficient bedding, and my orderly,

who had left with the detachment, had stored several

cans of fresh water, a pile of coal in a large wooden

box, and a few odds and ends—candles, boxes of matches, cooking utensils, and the like, aU neatly ar-

ranged on my desk. It was strange to find myself in

the midst of all these things, as though I were about

to start on a long, soUtary journey. Yet I was not

totally alone; I had a telephone directly connected

with the CIC detachment and a field-radio set. By

nine o'clock I was ready to drive over to CIC, where

I spent the rest of the morning perusing a stack of re-

ports, preparing an inteUigence analysis and estimates.

Around noon, as I did not feel well and since there

251

252

was no more work to be done, I left; I felt I had a

slight fever. I returned to my room and found that a contingent from the Hospital Command had already

begun to convert the building into a transient field

hospital. Several trucks were still unloading beds and

bedding. I went up to my room, took a few pills, lay

down on the cot, and immediately fell asleep.

When I woke, I found myself covered with blankets.

I turned my head toward the stove and saw the dim figure of a man, sitting quietly in the warm, dusky

room. It was Mr. Shin.

"Go back to sleep," he said. "Don't get up."

Though I felt a bit weak I got out of the cot. "Have

you been here long?" I said. My watch told me that it was half-past five. "I slept all afternoon."

He said he had been told by Chaplain Koh that I

was staying in the city; he had thought he would stop

by to see me on his way to a church where he was to

conduct a special service that evening. "I was surprised

to find that you now have a hospital in here," he said.

"But I asked for you anyway. An oflficer came out to meet me and took me up to your room. He told me

that you were running a fever. He had found you here,

alone and in a deep sleep. He took your temperature

and gave you a shot but with all that going on you

didn't stir a bit. Do you remember anything?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't. That was very kind

of him."

253

"You must have been exhausted, Captain. You

seem to be in need of a good, long rest. How are you feeling now?"

I confessed that I felt slightly dizzy.

"Then you must go back to bed and be still," he

said.

"It could be that I am hungry."

"Have you eaten anything since morning?"

"No."

"Well, then, you must have something,*' he said.

"Shall I call someone for you?"

I told him not to; I had canned food and I could

make some tea. I invited him to join me, if he did not

mind tasting canned American food. "What time do

you have to be at the church?"

"Half-past six," he said. "I am to have dinner with

the minister after the service, but I will be dehghted

to join you for a cup of tea."

Later, we sat quietly by the stove in the candlelight,

sipping tea. It was dark outside and the wind was

howling. I drew the curtains over the window.

"As you may know, I have to stay here as long as

I can," I said, "but I will be ordered to leave before

our combat troops begin their withdrawal. Mr. Shin,

when I leave, please plan to come with me."

He did not reply.

"I have promised Park that I will look after you,"

I said. "Do you have anyone to help you in the house?"

254

**Yes. I am well taken care of," he said. "The jani-

tor of my church and his wife are staying with me. Yes, I am quite comfortable."

"Give them my name and address, just so that if you need me for anything or if they need me they will

know where to find me."

"That's very kind of you, but I am sure we won't

have to trouble you."

I poured more tea into his cup. "Mr. Shin, why did

you come to see me?" I said.

But he had again withdrawn into himself. His si-

lence disturbed me. "Why did you come, Mr. Shin?" I

asked again.

He stood up. "I must leave you now. Captain.

Thank you for the tea. I think you should go back to

bed and get some rest."

I detained him, holding his arm. "What is it that

you want to tell me? Why do you hide it from me?"

He looked away, then looked into my eyes. "Help

me!" he whispered. "Help me!"

"Help you? Why? How!"

"Help me!"

I let his arm go. "You haven't been able to answer

my question, Mr. Shin. Why? Why!" I cried out.

"Your god doesn't care how you sujffer, does he!"

Feverishly his eyes remained fixed on mine. "Go

on!" he said. "Go on!"

255

**Your god, any god, all the gods in the world

what do they care for us? Your god—^he does not understand our sufferings, he doesn't want to have

anything to do with our miseries, murders, starving

people, wars, wars, and all the horrors!"

"Go on!" he said, now nearly delirious. "Go on!"

"All right," I cried. "I'll tell you. I despise what

you have done, what you are doing to your people!

Lies, Ues! Why? Why do you do it! Your twelve min-

isters—they were butchered for no good reason. They didn't die for the glory of your god. They were mur-

dered by men and your god couldn't care less. Tell

me, then, why glorify your god! Why glorify him while

men are murdered by men! And why betray your

people?"

We both fell silent. "Mr. Shin, Mr. Shin! Why all that?" I said in des-

peration. "Why all that, why deceive your people,

when our sufferings here and now have no justice to

seek for beyond this life?"

He clutched my arms and whispered compassion-

ately, "How you must have suffered! How you must

be suffering. I, too. Captain! I, too, suffer!"

Hardly knowing what to say I looked at him in

wonder. "Then you, too," I said at last, "you, too,

don't believe . . .?"

256

He interrupted mc with an agonized gesture. "Don't!

Don't say it!" Tears filled his eyes.

"Then . . . why!"

"All my life I have searched for God, Captain," he

whispered, "but I found only man with all his suffer-

ings . . . and death, inexorable death!"

"And after death?"

"Nothing!" he whispered. "Nothing!"

The searing anguish in his pale face was overwhelm-

ing.

"Help me! Help me love my people, my poor, suf-

fering people, tortured by wars, hungry, cold, sick and

weary of life!" he cried. "Help me! Sufferings seize

their hope and faith and toss them adrift into a sea of

despair! We must show them Ught, tell them there will be a glorious welcome waiting for them, assure them

they will triumph in the eternal Kingdom of God!"

*To give them the illusion of hope? The illusion of

life beyond the grave?"

"Yes, yes! Because they are men. Despair is the

disease of those weary of life, life here and now full

of meaningless sufferings. We must fight despair, we must destroy it and not let the sickness of despair

corrupt the life of man and reduce him to a mere

scarecrow."

"And you? What about you? What about your de-

spair?"

257

'That is my cross!** he said. "I must bear that

alone."

I took his trembling hands. "Forgive me!*' I cried

out. "Forgive me! I have been unjust to you!*'

"There is nothing to forgive,'* he said. "You, too,

you, too, because you know, bear your own cross!"

"And others?"

"Many will not be able to bear it," he said, sud-

denly tender. "Those are the ones who need Christ.

We will give them their Christ and their Judas." "And the resurrection of the flesh?"

"Yes, the resurrection of the flesh!"

"And the eternal Kingdom of God?"

"Yes, the eternal Kingdom of God!"

"And justice?"

"Yes, justice—oh, how one craves for justice! Yes, justice! The ultimate justice in the name of God!"

"And you?"

"I must continue to suffer. There is no other way,"

"How long! How long must you suffer!"

*Till we die and never meet again!" he whispered.

And for the first time since the war, I abandoned

myself to uncontrollable tears, my tears, my contri-

tion—^for my parents, for my countrymen, and for those many unknown souls I had destroyed.

"Courage," he said gently, laying his hands on my

shoulders. "Courage, Captain. We must hope against

258

hopelessness. We must dare to hope against despair because we are men."

Soon after Mr. Shin had left, someone knocked on

the door and Major Minn entered. I was in bed; I

tried to get up. He drew a chair near the cot, motion-

ing for me not to rise.

"I saw him leave," he said, "so I thought I would

come in and take a look at you. How are you feeling?"

I told him I felt a bit tired but otherwise fine.

"I told your relative you will be all right by tomor-

row," he said.

"My relative?"

"Isn't he someone in your family?"

^TSTo."

"Oh, I though he was," he said, shrugging his shoul-

ders. "I asked him if he was related to you and he

said, 'Well, in a way.' Anyway, I was surprised to find

you were still in town."

I explained the circumstances.

"I was told that an officer attached to CIC was

going to be staying in the building," he said, "but it

never occurred to me that it could be you. Glad to

have you with us. I am a man of foresight, am I not?

Do you remember my promise to treat you free of

charge?"

I thanked him for what he had done for me.

259

"Don't mention it. You were exhausted. Nothing

too serious. I think you should rest for a while. You

are fortunate, you know, being right in the middle of

my hospital. We aren't quite settled in here yet; we will be by tomorrow."

I asked him when he was expecting patients.

He frowned. "Tomorrow evening. It's getting worse

on the front. We don't even seem to have a front and troops are pouring down this way. I am supposed to

receive nearly two hundred patients tomorrow eve-

ning and God knows how many more the next day."

"Are you keeping them here or are you sending

them soutii?"

"We are sending them off as fast as we can but there

are just too many," he said, shaking his head. "What

a mess!" He took my temperature, checked my pulse, and said I would be feeling well soon.

"I am sleeping in the next room. If you need me,

just call. I told my orderly to look after you, so don't be surprised to see someone come in during the night

and tinker with the stove."

I thanked him.

"You are most welcome," he said; then, pausing on

his way toward the door, "By the way, and I hope

you don't mind my being nosy, but are you a Chris- tian?"

"Why do you ask?"

260

"Just being curious. My wife was one, a very devout one, too. You know . . . it's a strange thing. When she was alive, I sort of tolerated her religiosity, if you

know what I mean, but I never understood her sense

of commitment to her god. Now I am beginning to understand it in some vague way."

"Could it be because you have seen so many men

die?"

"In my profession I have seen many men die. As a doctor I can explain why or how my patients die. But

God knows I can't explain the reason for all these

men dying in war. There is no rational explanation

when you get down to the bottom of it. It doesn't

make sense. Yet somehow it must make sense."

"So you begin to understand your wife," I said.

"To be more precise—^her need, her desperate need for her rehgion, for her god. Well, I didn't mean to

keep you up. He was a minister, was he not?"

I explained to him briefly about Mr. Shin.

"He came here around two o'clock," he said. "He

asked me if it was all right for him to stay, so I left

him alone with you. I came back about two hours

later and of course, by that time I had forgotten about

him. Then I heard a low voice coming from this room.

I though you were up. I opened the door and saw

that you were still asleep."

"Was there anyone else here besides him?"

261

"No. He was praying. I left as quietly as I could.

Well, good night, Captain. Get some sleep now." He

shook his head again, smiling, "You must be a ter-

rible sinner," he said. "I think he was praying for your

soul."

^^^^v^^^^^^^^^ 32

MY TEMPERATURE WAS erratic. It rose slightly during the night but was down again in the morning.

The major ordered me to stay in bed. The command-

ing officer at CIC was kind enough to telephone me

to say that he would send a Ueutenant with my work

so that I would not have to leave my bed. I did not

think I was that iU but I was content to stay indoors.

The day began with another dreary morning, cold

and windy, and with reports from the front which

were anything but cheerful. The heutenant, who had

come with a briefcase full of captured enemy docu-

ments and propaganda material for me to study,

stayed with me for an hour or so. At noon the major's

orderly brought me a lunch tray and later the major

himself came in, took my temperature, and assured

me that I was getting better.

Alone once more, I drew up a chair near the win-

262

263

dow, and spent some time looking out. Several army

trucks, their canvas tops crusted with snow, were

plowing their way toward the bridge across the Tae-

dong River. Here and there I saw people hurrying

through the street, alone and in groups, some empty-

handed, some carrying bundles. An ambulance sped

by, its siren shrieking. The church over the slope be-

came more and more indistinct in the waning after-

noon. A plane, seen above the dim belfry, flew in a circle, blinking red and green lights. It quickly became

darker outside.

After a while Mr. Shin came in. He could not stay.

He had been to a funeral and then to a meeting with

the ministers of the city. "I was just passing by and

thought I would stop by and see how you are doing,"

he said. "I am glad to hear that you are feeling better."

I put the teakettle on the stove and persuaded him

to have a cup of tea with me. "You shouldn't be walk-

ing around in the cold," I said. "How is your cough?"

"I feel fine these days. I don't think I have ever felt

better since before the war."

"You ought to see a doctor, though, Mr. Shin," I

said. "Are you sleeping well?"

"Oh, yes. I sleep too much, in fact," he said, smil-

ing. Steam rose from his wet shoes and damp overcoat.

"You don't suppose your detachment has reached

Seoul yet, do you?"

264

I told him they had stayed overnight at Sariwon

and that they should arrive in Seoul by the next morn-

ing.

"The city is becoming crowded with refugees from

the North," he said. "The ministers met today to find

out what we could do for them. We are offering them our churches for shelter. But I don't know how we can

feed them. My church already has five, six hundred.

Many of them came all the way from the border. What

will happen to them?"

"Do you find many Christians among them?"

"Yes. Where will they go from here?" he said.

"Where can they go?"

The tea was ready; I poured him a cup.

He gazed thoughtfully into the steaming cup. "We

buried a boy, twelve years old," he said. "His father

had been taken away by the Communists shortly

before we were Hberated, and we have heard that he

died on the way to the North—one of those death marches. The boy was dying; I stayed with him all

night. Before he lost his strength the boy asked me

if, when he died, he would see his father in heaven.

I said. Yes, he would see his father. Would there be

any of those Conmiunist poUcemen in heaven who

would take his father away from him again? Of course

not, I said. And his mother? Would he see her there

some day? Yes, I said to him, Yes, he would, of

265

course, he would. And you know the boy looked at

his weeping mother with eyes so full of longing and

love, I too, wept. And today the white coffin, the snow,

and the black, wet dirt—no more, no more. All these years as a pastor I have prepared many men to die

peacefully. Yes, I prepared that boy to die in peace.

But I failed twice, Captain; I betrayed twice."

Again the terrible anguish in his eyes. I have never

seen such anguish. "I married late in life," he said,

"only to bury my first child, a boy, and my wife within

the same year. My wife died a few weeks after the boy. She became ill. She blamed the loss of our child

on herself, on her sins, and she spent all her time pray-

ing, fasting. And I—I was sick with my grief but I had my life to Uve here and she had hers and I resented

her slavish devotion to her god, her pitiful prayers.

And I dared—I dared to tell her that when we were gone from this life we would never meet again, we

would never see our children again, that there was no

afterlife. My unhappy wife, my terrified wife—she could not bear the thought, she was not strong enough

to live with my terrible truth. She could not live with-

out her hope and promise that in the life hereafter she

would meet her lost child. She became a hving corpse

and she died in despair." Mr. Shin groaned like a soul

in torment. "I promised," he went on painfully, "I

promised myself that I would never, never again re-

266

veal my truth, my secret truth—a maddening truth coming from a servant of God. But I failed again with

Mr. Hann. The last moment of Park's father had al-

ready wrecked the soul of that poor young man, and I,

overcome by temptation, revealed to him the secret of

my hfe, and despair seized his young body and soul and tore them up into shreds." Too agitated to remain

seated, Mr. Shin jumped up from his chair and began

to pace the room.

"And then you came and at one fatal stroke you

pierced the core of my secret truth."

I was too moved by Mr. Shin's confession to say

anything.

"I must go now," he said after a while. "I have to

be at the church and do what I can. Do you have any

idea when the city is going to be abandoned?"

"No, I don't, but Til find out soon."

"What is it Uke on the front?"

I explained the battle situation.

"Then it won't be too long," he said.

"No," I said. "A matter of a few more days, per-

haps."

The teakettle hummed softly, occasionally oozing

out sizzling drops of water on the stove. Footsteps and

voices mingled in the hall. The floor squeaked under

my feet. Major Minn came in and told me that he

267

and his men were going to the railway station to re-

ceive patients. When I stepped out of my room, no one

was in sight; the building was deserted. Somewhere

downstairs a telephone rang, unanswered. I left the

buildmg on foot for Mr. Shin's church, drawn there

as if by a magnet, to be in his presence.

Within the freezing church there hardly was room to

move. Pews were piled on top of each other and were

stacked against the walls. Refugees were crowded on

the bare, wooden floor, some sitting up, hunched over

their bundles, many lying curled up. The church

smelled of bodies and food; the odor of vegetable

soup hovered in the damp, cold air. Here and there

a baby cried. Children ran about, the high-ceilinged

interior echoing their shouts and laughter. An old man,

waving his hand for attention, was shouting the name

of a woman. Hazy dust hung low above the multitude

of shadowy bodies in the dim light of the chandeUers.

I edged toward the altar, where Mr. Shin was busy

doling out food to a line of refugees. A little girl, bun- dled up in a torn piece of quUt and chewing on a dried

fish, gazed at me, then moved to the side of a woman

who was suckling a baby. The child hid behind the

woman's back, then buried her stained face in the

woman's skirt and began crying. The woman lifted

her weary eyes and stared at my uniformed figure.

268

I stayed there for an hour or so, long enough to

hear Mr. Shin speak to the refugees, but not long

enough to hear the end of the service. It was when he

was reading from Psalms that I suddenly felt a shiver

and began to tremble; my fever had returned. Mr.

Shin, framed in the quavering Ught of two candles on

the lectern, was saying:

. . . The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,

my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my strong-

hold. I call upon the Lord, who is worthy to be

praised, and I am saved from my enemies. The cord

of death encompassed me. . . .

I felt dizzy, and I left the church. When I returned

to the hospital I saw that it had been filled with

wounded soldiers. Ambulances came and went. Voices

echoed in the halls; doors banged; telephones rang;

stretcher-bearers carried men up and down the cor-

ridors. I managed to drag myself up the stairs to my

room.

"Oh, you fool!" Major Minn exclaimed when he

came to my room later. "To go out in weather like

this. Now stay quiet and get some sleep. You may

hear lots of noises tonight. We are operating on them

as fast as we can. Don't let it bother you. I'll send my

orderly with some pills."

I thanked him.

269

"You can't afford to get sick now," he said.

The telephone rang when the major was about to

go to his room next door. He brought me the tele-

phone.

The call was from the CIC. When I hung up,

Major Minn replaced the telephone on the desk. "Any-

thing new?" he asked.

"The Chinese have just smashed our entire front,"

I said.

^^^^;^l^l^;i^;i^^^;i^^ 33

I WOKE UP the next morning, around seven, and discovered that someone was sleeping in a bed at the

other end of the room. I thought it was the major's

orderly. It was dark in the room; the only light shone,

flickering, through the vent of the stove. My head ached, I felt weak, and I would have liked to go back

to sleep. I lay still on my cot, listening vaguely to the

murmuring voices outside the room, the soft crum-

bling of the burned-out coal in the stove, and occa-

sionally the heavy breathing of the man in the other

bed. A little while later I heard the door of the next room open; then my door opened and Major Minn

tiptoed in. I sat up and he came over to me, looking

back toward the other bed.

"How do you feel?" he whispered.

I told him I thought I could get up.

He nodded. "That's your Christian friend over

there," he said. "Did you notice?"

270

I

i

I

271

I did not understand him.

"He is the minister who came to see you the other

day. We brought him in here last night—around eleven, I think." Major Minn explained that a man

had come to the hospital about half-past ten at night,

asking for me. "He said he was the janitor of the

church. His minister had collapsed during a prayer

session. Apparently he had been instructed to come

to you if anything happened, so he came here. Well,

you were in no shape to help anyone. I drove over to

the church, since I had just been reUeved after a few

operations and I had nothing to do at the moment.

That church was a mess. You probably know. What

are they going to do with all those refugees they have

there? I got your minister out and drove him back

here and put him in your room. Hope you don't mind.

There simply isn't any other room available just now.

He was running a high fever. His heartbeat was ex-

tremely irregular, and he was dead-tired. I couldn't

do much, except give him some sedatives and a vita-

min shot. I'll look at him when he wakes up but I am

afraid he has TB. He coughed a lot and spat some

blood."

"Is it bad?"

"I can't tell until I examine him more thoroughly."

He peered at his watch. "He should be sleeping till

ten, eleven. Well, what about you?"

272

I told him that I slept well and that I thought I

could go to CIC.

"You have a bad cold and you are quite run-down

but I think you can get up and go out if you think you

should. Just don't stay out too long and don't over-

work." He then suggested that I come over to his room

and have breakfast.

As I was leaving my room, I looked at Mr. Shin; he

was breathing softly, with his face turned to the wall.

I did not return from CIC until two in the after-

noon. Mr. Slun was up. His unshaven face looked

bluish. He was sitting near the stove, wearing a white

robe over bis pajamas; alone in the room, he had been

sipping tea. He greeted me with a wan smile.

I sat down on a chair opposite him.

*1 never imagined that I would come here in such

a situation and in such a state," he said. "I am glad

to see you are up. You worried me last night when

you left the church rather abruptly."

I told him that I had not been well. "I didn't mean

to walk out on your service."

"I understand," he said. "I noticed that you looked

ill. You shouldn't have come. I feel much better now.

I must have been a bit tired yesterday."

"You should stay here, Mr. Shin, until we leave

the city. You need a good rest and a doctor's atten-

1

273

tion, and you can have both here, at least for the tune

being."

"But I feel fine, Captain," he said, smiling. "I think

I will go back to the church as soon as I see the major.

Last night we received a hundred or so more refugees

from the North. Where can they all go from here?"

After a pause he said, "Those refugees who came last

night—they suddenly opened up my memories of the villagers I had seen when I went down to Chinnampo.

I thought the time had come at last for me to sur-

render to the temptation that had been harassing me

all my life as a pastor. My despair was too great to bear and there were moments when I could not muster

enough strength and courage to love my people. But

then I went to visit my friend, an old pastor of a small

village church. And there, in the few days I spent

with him and with his people, I saw how despair para-

lyzed their spirits, how it snared them into the dark

prison of their weary lives. The village had been

bombed, shelled, sacked and nearly razed to the

ground twice in three months; they had suffered, Cap-

tain. Their young had been lost in the war; their

daughters, sisters, wives, mothers had been raped;

nothing to eat, nothing to cure their sickness—a hell on earth. I saw how men can come to be beasts with-

out hope, how men can come to be like savages with-

out the promise, yes, the illusion of the eternal hope,

274

Men cannot endure their sufferings without hope,

without the promise of justice, if not here and now

and there is none—then somewhere else, in heaven, yes, in the Kingdom of God. And so I returned to the

city."

"And your hope? Your promise?"

*That many wiU have lived without having been

enslaved by despair, that many will have endured their

worldly sufferings with a sense of purpose, that many

will have died in peace, in faith, and with a blissful

vision."

Later in the afternoon Mr. Shin's temperature rose

and stayed liigh. He was too weak to insist on going

back to his church. Major Minn told me that he had

not been mistaken; the minister was in an advanced

stage of tuberculosis.

Around seven in the evening I asked the major to

have his orderly stay with Mr. Shin, as I had to go

out.

At half-past ten, when I returned to my room, I

found the orderly supporting Mr. Shin, who was sit-

ting up in his bed panting. He had just coughed up a

great deal of blood. When he recognized me leaning

over him, he took away the handkerchief he had

pressed over his mouth and tried to smile. The dark

275

hollows under his eyes frightened me. I took his hand.

"Your hand is cold," he whispered. "You must have

been out."

I nodded.

"I thought I was dying," he said. "Wasn't that fool-

ish of me?"

The orderly and I laid him down and covered him

with blankets. Then I told the orderly to go and bring

the major if he was not occupied.

Mr. Shin opened his eyes and said, "I was terrified

for one moment."

"Try to sleep."

"Can you hear the patients? I heard them crying

and moaning. I keep hearing them."

"Please don't let them bother you," I begged. "Try

to sleep."

"Are they dying?" he whispered. "Are many of them

dying?"

"No, Mr. Shin," I lied. The major had told me that

fourteen wounded soldiers had died in two days;

twenty or so were in critical condition; half of them

would probably die.

He did not speak after that and closed his eyes.

The orderly came back and told me the major was

operating at the moment and could not come.

I sat by Mr. Shin's bed for a while then went to my

cot and lay down with my clothes on, unable to sleep.

276

Some time later I heard Mr. Shin's weak, hoarse

voice calling me, and I went to him.

"Should anything happen to me, will you pray for

me?*'

For a moment I did not know what to say.

"Have you ever prayed?" he asked.

'To the Christian god?" I said. "Yes, when I was

a child."

"That will do," he said. "Your voice might be

heard."

"I will try," I said. I did not know what else I could

li^;i^^^^li^^^^^^^^ 34

UPON ARRIVING AT CIC the next morning, I dis- covered that nearly one-third of the detachment had

left for Seoul during the night. The unexpected and

sudden collapse of our front lines had resulted in cha-

otic communications between units and between the

front and the rear; there were hardly any intelligence

reports from the front-line combat units. The atmos-

phere was tense. I was instructed by the colonel to

stand by for our withdrawal at any moment.

When I was able at last to return to the hospital in

the late afternoon, I was informed by the major that

Mr. Shin had left the hospital in his absence. Accord-

ing to him, a group of ministers had come to see Mr.

Shin in the morning and stayed with him for about

an hour. Then, shortly before noon the janitor and

his wife had come. "I was here when the old couple

came," he said, "but then I had to go to the Hospital

277

278

Command. When I got back the minister was gone.

My idiotic orderly, who hadn't lifted a finger to stop him from leaving, said there were lots of people, be-

sides the janitor and his wife, wanting to see the min-

ister, all waiting outside. They were from his church,

I think."

The major had sent a sergeant and the orderly to

church to bring him back to the hospital. Mr. Shin

was conducting a service and the men waited for it to

be over, but they were not able to persuade him to

come with them.

"So I went there myself," Major Minn said, "I

don't really know how I got into this and why I am

going out of my way for your minister friend. I can

only guess that I must always have been partial to

ministers because of my wife. Her minister used to

come to our house quite often; he was a jolly fellow

and I became a good friend of his, though I never

went to hear his sermons. Ah, well. Your friend wasn't

at the church, which was packed with those refugees.

I am afraid there are lots of sick people there. I found

out where he Uved from an old gentleman—one of his elders, I think, and went to his house. He was there

all right, but the janitor insisted that he didn't want to

see anyone. I sent in my name anyway, but it was no

use. He simply refused to see me. I asked the janitor

what his minister was doing. Praying, he said.

279

"You'd better go there right now and bring him

back here. If he is left alone like that he won't live

long. Praying isn't going to help his lungs."

Before I left I asked the major if there would be a

hospital train going to Seoul and whether he was

sending his patients to the South. He said there was

one leaving Pyongyang early the next morning. I told

him that I would like to send Mr. Shin on that train,

if the major could make arrangements.

"I don't see why not," he said. "He can travel with

one of my doctors." He looked at me searchingly.

"You don't think we are going to defend Pyongyang,

do you?" he said. "You don't have to tell me an oflQcial

secret."

I told him that, if the worst came, the Army might

not defend the city.

"If the worst comes . . ." he said. "And you think

the worst will come soon."

I nodded.

"I have twenty patients who mustn't be moved

around," he said. "God knows what I am supposed to

do with them,"

I drove to Mr. Shin's house, hoping that he would

see me if no one else. Yet the only reply I received

from the janitor, who obliged me by informing Mr.

280

Shin of my visit, was that his minister did not wish to

see anyone at the moment.

"Please come back," the old man said tearfully. "I

know he trusts you. He is sick but I can't find a doctor

around here. There isn't anyone left. I don't know

why he made me bring him back here but I do what

he tells me to do. I shouldn't have told him people

from the church were waiting outside the hospital,

wanting to see him. I know he is terribly sick. But the

others don't know he is, and that's what worries me."

"You should tell them he's too sick to see them,"

I said.

"They have been meeting practically every day and

night at the church and they want him there. They

even come here for special prayer meetings. And then

those ministers—^well, they come here almost every' night, staying so long, talking, talking, when he ought

to be in bed. But what can I do? I tell them he is sick,

so leave him alone, but they just don't listen to me.

They are all scared, you see, so they want him to tell

them not to be scared. What can I do?"

I told him he was to keep everyone away until I

returned, and I left a note for Mr. Shin about the hos-

pital train for Seoul.

I went to CIC, where I stayed for an hour or so,

and then drove back to Mr. Shin's house.

281

He still would not see me nor give me any reply

to my note.

"He said have courage so you can give him cour-

age," the old man said. 'That's all he said. I am sorry."

^^;^^^;^;^;^;^^^^^ 35

I DID NOT see Mr. Shin for the next few days. The atmosphere in the city became tense, the mood of our

men gloomier as each hour went by.

One afternoon, on my way back to C3C from a

meeting at the Area Command, I was driving by the

city hall, where in the wide square I ran into a pro-

cession of marchers. They had held a rally in the

square and were starting on a tour throughout the

city. It was an organized popular demonstration, ex-

pressing the peoples' protest against the Chinese inter-

vention and their entreaty to the United Nations for

a speedy retaliation. A Military Police man, who directed the traffic, had stopped my jeep, and I was

thus able to observe the marchers as they came by.

Though sunny the day was brisk with a cold wind

blowing. Banners of all colors fluttered in the wind.

A group of teachers came abreast of my jeep, foUowed

282

283

by a long line of high school students, in their black

uniforms, who chanted rhythmically: *T)own with the

Chinese Conmiunists! Long Live the Republic of

Korea! Long Live the United Nations!" The group fol-

lowing them represented the Pyongyang Federation of

Labor; and then the Anti-Communist Youth Associa-

tion group snake-danced by, shouting incoherently;

children trotted along, most of them bewildered but

some of them giggling, waving Korean flags, American

flags and a few U.N. flags; a high school brass band

marched by, blaring out-of-tune Korean Army march-

ing songs; women, old and young, quietly followed

the band. And then came Mr. Shin.

Ahead of him, two young men carried a banner that

read: The Federation of Christians of Pyong-

yang. Directly behind them, twelve men, all wearing

black robes, carried upon their breasts black-ribboned

portraits of the martyrs. In the center, somberly

flanked by the twelve portraits, Mr. Shin walked

slowly, his body erect in a black overcoat. The glasses

of the framed portraits reflected the sun in blinding

patches of light. Above Mr. Shin and slightly behind

the portrait-bearers were two placards held aloft by an

old man and Chaplain Koh, reading: In the spirit of

THE twelve martyrs, Arise! and Christian breth-

ren, unite and pray for victory! Then came the

ministers, some of whom I recognized, and their fol-

284

lowers. The procession halted briefly. The band now

played a Sousa march. They began to move again. I

could not see Mr. Shin anymore. A helicopter ap- peared overhead and sprayed the people and the street

with leaflets. The sun flashed. The wind scooped up the

leaflet<i, then hurled them down at the pavement. I got

out of the jeep and picked one up; its headline said:

Victory soon! our forces begin counterattack!

Later in the afternoon, while I was at CIC, I had a

telephone call from Colonel Chang. He had known

that I was still in the city.

"I saw Mr. Shin today," he said, "and the chaplain."

I told him that I, too, had seen them.

"What on earth are they doing here? And why are

they marching down the street like that!"

I explained to him briefly what had happened so

far.

"So you don't think they will go, do you?" he said.

I said I could not tell.

"It seems Mr. Shin is now the undisputed leader of

the Christians here," he said. "That makes it hard for

him. Now, mark my words. The CIC will be getting

out of here tomorrow morning. I know that for a fact.

Get them out with you by all means. Get them out,

will you?"

I told him that I would do my best.

285

"If they won't go," he said, "well, 111 see what I

can do."

That evening, at CIC, I received oflBcial instructions

to leave Pyongyang the next morning. I went again to

Mr. Shin's house and learned that he had gone to his

church.

I found him there, standing in front of his congre-

gation with an open Bible in his hands, flanked by two

candles on a small table. The congregation knelt be-

fore him. Behind them were crowded the refugees. He

saw me as I stood there quietly, and put the Bible

down on the table and came to me.

I told him that I was ordered to leave Pyongyang

the next morning.

"Then what those leaflets said is not true," he

whispered.

He slowly looked about him at the congregation

and at the refugees.

It seemed as though all the eyes in the church were

riveted upon me. "We lost the battle," I confessed.

"Good-bye, Captain," he said. "I wish you a safe

journey." He offered his hand, which I did not take.

"Good-bye. I must get on with the service."

He turned away but I detained him, conscious of

the people's eyes following our every move.

286

**Help me!" he said. "Give me courage! Give me

com^ge to say good-bye to you!"

*Tell them to leave," I said. 'Tell them we are not

wimiing. Tell them we are not going to defend the

city!"

*They all know that," he said.

"If they know, why don't they leave?"

"How far can they go? How long can they endure

tiieir sufiEering? The young people have already left

But the old and the sick, the women and the children

—they are too weak." "And you?"

"My place is at their side. If no one else, then I

must make them believe God cares for them and I

care for them. Good-bye, Captain Lee."

I gave in to his serene gaze. I took his hand. "Good-

bye, Mr. Shin," I said. "Is there anything I can do for

you before I leave?"

His pale face seemed to smile. He held both my hands in his. "Help me! Help my work wherever you

may be."

I could not bear to leave him like this.

He whispered, "Love man, Captain! Help him! Bear

your cross with courage, courage to fight despair, to

love man, to have pity on mortal man."

He left me to rejoin his followers. "My brethren, let us pray," he said.

287

The congregation bowed their heads. Mr. Shin

gazed at me and nodded slightly.

I bowed to him and withdrew. I closed the door,

leaving behind me the murmuring voices of those who

had their god and the one who loved them.

I stopped by CIC to receive provisions for my jour-

ney; I was issikd a submachine gun and ammunition

to be prepared for possible encounters with enemy

guerrillas on the way.

I could not find Chaplain Koh; he had returned to

the camp a few miles west of Pyongyang, where he

was setting up a refugee post maintained by the

Christians.

I returned to the hospital and saw that it was being

evacuated; ambulances were being loaded with pa-

tients. Major Minn, who met me at the entrance,

informed me that he had shipped out most of his

patients. "But I still have twenty or so who are criti-

cal," he said. "K I move them, they will die. I am supposed to use my discretion about them. My dis- cretion, indeed! My God, why don't they just tell me to leave them behind! Isn't that what they want me to do!"

I held his arm. "We will do our best," I said. I did

not know what else I could say to him.

288

'The patients will die anyway," he said. "That's the

way my superiors figure."

Snowflakes whirled about, swishing in and out of

the Ught beams of the vehicles. One after another, the

ambulances whined away into the dark night.

^^^l^^^n^^l^i^ii^l^^ 36

I WAS IN my room when, sometime after midnight, I looked out of the window and saw that the general

retreat had begun.

Tanks and guns were rumbling into the city from

the North, then clattering through the streets to the

bridge across the river to the South. From the southern

side of the river, an endless line of empty trucks, with

their headlights blazing, crossed the bridge into the

city, grinding their way to the North to evacuate the

troops. By 3 a.m., two-way traflBc, to the South and

to the North, reached its highest flux. Trucks from

the North began to pass through the city, loaded with

troops. The air base across the river hummed on as

planes screeched up into the cold, windy darkness;

searchlights pierced the black sky, clashing with each

other, crisscrossing. More field guns rolled out of the

city, their dark long shapes dimly revealed in the

289

290

lights of the passing trucks. A Military Police jeep zigzagged through the traffic, red lights blinking. In

another hour I began to hear the distant rumbling of

artillery barrages; the black horizon of the northern

sky continuously flashed and boomed. Infantry troops

began to appear, slogging along, and now and then a

machine gim chattered. Suddenly the whole sky over

the city was illuminated by flares. Shadowy buildings,

tanks, trucks, guns, troops, lampposts, bleak glass

windows in deserted shops, the belfry over the slope

were lit up in a cold phosphorescent brightness; search-

lights fought with each other; fireballs burst in the

sky; the air shook with the hammering barrages of

antiaircraft guns; jet fighters swished overhead. Dark-

ness returned once again and with it a sudden hush,

then the whining, purring of motors and heavy shuf-

fling footsteps of the troops—all flowing toward the bridge.

I got ready to leave. I rang up CIC to report my de-

parture but received no answer. I cut the wire and

destroyed the telephone and the field-radio set and left

the room. My footsteps echoed in the dark, empty building as I went down the steps. When I reached

the ground floor, I heard a door squeak open from

the direction of our former briefing room; a voice

whispered, "Captain Lee? Is that you?"

"Yes. Who are you?" I whispered back.

291

A beam from a flashlight shot out of darkness. "It's me." It was Major Mum.

"Are you still here?" I said. ''What are you doing?"

*T. am staying as long as I can," he said, coming

close to me. "I have twenty-two men dying in there."

He pointed to the former briefing room. "I have gotten

everyone else shipped out."

"You'd better get out of here," I said, "as fast as

you can."

"So we are sneaking out," he said. "Just as we did

in Seoul when the whole damn thing started."

"Come, Major, I think you have stayed long

enough."

"What has happened to your minister-friend?"

I told him Mr. Shin was staying in the city.

"You never can teU what these ministers are up to,"

he said. "I can understand what they must feel. My wife's minister stayed in Seoul and got kidnapped by

the Reds. I told him to hide or do something but he

wouldn't. He just wouldn't run away."

"Now it's my turn to tell you to get out of here," I

said. "Come, Major. Come!"

"I am not trying to be holy or brave. I am just

trying to be decent."

Suddenly we heard a jeep screech to a halt at the

entrance.

292

•Turn off the light!" I said to the major and pushed

him behind me.

Someone kicked the door open and ran into the

building, shouting my name. I got the flashlight from

the major and stepped out.

It was a sergeant from CIC. "We tried to reach you

but the line was cut off. The colonel told me to make

sure you had left. We are getting out, sir. We are going to blow up the bridge in a few hours. So you'd

better hurry."

After the sergeant left I said to the major, "I think

you have been decent enough. Major. We ought to go now."

"Yes, I suppose," he said. "Give me a few minutes.

I want to write a letter."

I did not understand him.

"I want to leave a note to my counterpart on the

other side. I don't care if he is a Chinese or a North

Korean or a Russian. If he is a real doctor he will

read it and know what I feel. I have aU the records of

those men in there and whatever medicine I could

scrounge up."

He wanted to take a last look at his patients. I

volunteered to come with him but he did not want me

to. "You'd better not. At least I can spare you from

that. I won't be long." He walked into the room.

When he came out he said, "Six died. Four may

293

survive. I can't tell." He added wearily, "You know, I

wanted to pray for them but I couldn't. I felt so

damned blasphemous. Treat them decently—that's all I could say."

We left the building in silence. He drove ahead in

his jeep and I followed him in mine. The streets were

deserted. The withdrawal seemed to have been almost

completed. When we reached the bridge, vehicles and

troops were still crossing in a congested file. Jeeps,

mounted with machine guns, patrolled the streets near

the bridge. Refugees had gathered, and Military Police

were fending them off the streets. Feet shuffled; motors

roared; and voices shouted in Korean, "Civilians to the

downstream! To the downstream bridge!" English

mingled with Korean. Planes flew overhead in the

dark heavens.

Suddenly Major Minn's jeep swimg out of the line

of vehicles. He shouted to me, "Good-bye, Captain

Lee!" Before I had a chance to speak his jeep lurched

forward, then roared back into the city. "Hurry up!

Hurry up!" an American MP cried, waving a dimmed flashlight. I drove onto the creaking bridge.

While I was still on the bridge explosions down the

river to my right shook my jeep; fireballs soared up

into the black sky; the downstream bridge was being

destroyed. I drove on, squeezed in between the trucks

of American xmits and those of Korean units. We

294

moved slowly. About half an hour later, barely two

miles beyond the bridge, we were at a standstill, when

we heard a series of shattering explosions. A few parka-clad American soldiers in the truck ahead of my

jeep were looking out of the canvas cover. A voice cried out, "There goes the God-danmed bridge!"

Another shouted, "Oh, Jesus! Look at that!" I got

out of my jeep and looked back toward Pyongyang.

The doomed city was in flames.

;j^^^^^l^;^^^;i^l^;^l^ 37

WHEN I REACHED Seoul I was assigned to a special section of Army Intelligence that maintained direct

communications with our agents in North Korea; I

was thus able to follow the activities of Colonel Chang,

among others, through the clandestine reports he con-

tinued to send us from Pyongyang.

Park was somewhere on the eastern front, pre-

sumably near Hungnam, where our forces, having re-

treated from the Manchurian-Siberian border, were

estabUshing a bridgehead, awaiting their evacuation.

As for Major Minn, the Hospital Command, which

had set up its temporary headquarters in Seoul, could

tell me only that he had been officially hsted as miss-

ing.

Two days before Christmas our troops were suc-

cessfully evacuated from Hungnam, thus completing

our general retreat from North Korea. The next day

295

296

my request for transfer was granted and I began to prepare myself for my new assignment; I was to report for duty to a Korean Infantry regiment deployed just

north of Seoul.

On that Christmas Eve I withdrew early to my quonset hut, where I had a solitary supper of American

rations. I was reading a Japanese translation of Au-

relius' Meditations, when I had an unexpected visitor,

an Army captain of about my age, fully equipped for combat.

Following our mutual introductions the captain re-

moved his helmet and rubbed his hands over his

sunken cheeks. "I just got back from Pyongyang a

few days ago," he said. "I have something for you

from Colonel Chang." He produced a small envelope

and handed it to me. He explained that he had been

engaged in a secret intelligence operation in an area

about fifty miles northeast of Pyongyang, which had

been overrun by the Chinese shortly before our general

retreat had begun. Instructed to return to Seoul, he

managed to reach Pyongyang, which he found had

already been evacuated, and got in touch with Colonel

Chang. He stayed in Pyongyang for two days in a

hiding place arranged for him by the colonel, left for

a small fishing village on the west coast, then eventu-

ally went to an off-shore island held by our Marines;

he spent a day there before he was taken to Inchon by

297

a Korean Navy transport ship. "Colonel Chang gave

me that," he said, pointing to the envelope in my

hands, "and asked me to deliver it to you. So there it

is." He stood up; he was in a hurry to go.

When he had left I read Colonel Chang's note:

I am about to send this man through one of my

routes, a very safe one. I saw Mr. Shin, whom I

could not persuade to go with this man. No reason-

ing is possible with him; he is determined to stay

here, and so is the chaplain. I tried my best, assur- ing them that my secret passage is absolutely safe.

They are still safe; the Reds haven't touched them

yet. I'll try again, since it is such a pity not to take

advantage of my route, which is guarded by my own guerrillas. Pyongyang is a mess. It has become a

Chinatown. Pity! Good luck. Chang.

P.S. Just after I wrote this I learned that the chap-

lain has vanished from the city. Well, good for him,

I say! His followers had forced him into hiding.

^^l^^^;^^^;^^^^^ 38

ON THE FOURTH day of January, 1951, a few days after the Communist forces had launched an all-out

offensive, we scorched and abandoned Seoul, then

retreated further south beyond the Han River. Our

counteroffensive began in the latter part of January

but it was not until March 14 that the devastated

capital city was again in our hands.

I was wounded during the battle of Seoul when my

company, having participated in smashing the enemy's

bridgehead east of the Han River, engaged in street

fighting in the city. I was temporarily accommodated

in a field hospital, until I was shipped to Taegu and

then finally to Pusan in the second week of April to

an Army hospital for convalescents.

Preceding the fall of Seoul all the major govern-

mental agencies had been evacuated to Pusan, which

served as the temporary capital; apart from Army

298

299

headquarters, which remained in Taegu, everything

seemed to be concentrated in that city. It was there,

while I was still in the hospital, that, one sunny after-

noon, Colonel Chang visited me unexpectedly.

Placing a bulky paper bag on the edge of my bed,

he said, "It took me some time to locate you, par-

ticularly because you had left Intelligence. Well, here

we are. I brought you some apples. I thought you

might like some." He had traced me through the

Adjutant General's Oflfice in Taegu, and decided to

pay me a visit, since he was coming to Pusan anyway

for a conference with someone at the Korean Marine

Corps headquarters. Army Intelligence had decided

to evacuate him from North Korea to put him in

charge of a new operation. "They sent a PT boat to

get me out," he said. "When I got back they told me

I was to direct a sort of hit-and-run guerrilla operation

against the coastal installations in North Korea and

Manchuria. I have North Korean volunteers, Army

agents and Marine cormnandoes in my operation and

of course I have the Navy to help me."

I was eager to ask about his operation in Pyongyang

but he showed no inclination to touch upon that sub-

ject. For a while we discussed the nature of his new

operation. Then after he had peeled the skin off an

apple for me he stood up and went to the window that

300

looked out over the sprawling city to the sea. He re-

marked that I had a marvelous view.

When he returned to his chair he began peeling an

apple for himself and said, "I am afraid Mr. Shin is

dead." He added hastily, "Of course I can't be too

sure about that. All I know for certain is that he was

arrested and thrown into jail in Pyongyang. As you

know I saw him soon after the Chinese came in. He

was stni allowed to conduct services at his church dur-

ing the next few weeks." He cut up the apple, munched

on a slice. "I tried to see him again. It was too late.

He had already been taken away. I found out that

the Reds came to his church one Simday and broke

up the service, then took him with them. By that time

they had banned all religious meetings. A few other ministers who were still there were also taken away.

I had no trouble finding out what happened to them

and where they were held. I had my men pass the

word around to the Christians as to the whereabouts

of Mr. Shin and the other ministers. At least that was

something I could do for them.

"Then on Christmas Eve a group of Christians went

to the prison where the ministers were and in spite of

the Reds who threatened to arrest them, they sang

Christmas carols for more than half an hour. The Red

guards apparently thought the singing was harmless

and let the Christians sing and leave. But the secret

301

police didn't think so at all, and the next day the

ministers were moved to another prison, then a few

days later, they were sent off to the North. That's the

last thing I know of Mr. Shin and the others."

Colonel Chang sheathed his knife, gathered up the

apple peels, and put them in the bag. "He was quite

ill when I saw him last. That's why I am afraid he is

dead. He couldn't have survived the ordeal. The Reds

closed down all the churches and arrested practically

everyone else they thought was influential among the

Christians. Not only the Christians, of course. So-

called peoples' trials and public executions went on in

every square in the city. We could have blown up a few places and even the secret police headquarters but

then more innocent people would have been perse-

cuted. So we couldn't do too much to retaliate except

to shoot up several high-ranking Reds."

We sat quietly for a while. Colonel Chang asked me about Park. I had no news

of him. He then asked me if Chaplain Koh had been to

see me.

"What about the chaplain?" I asked.

"Oh, I am sorry. I thought you knew what happened to him," he said. "He was kidnapped from Pyongyang,

as you know. No, no, don't look at me like that. I didn't do it. The people of his congregation did. They

forced him to hide, then slipped him out of Pyongyang

302

—heaven knows how. He went back to his brigade after that. Well, he is out of the Army now. Obviously

he doesn't know you are here. He is in Pusan. That's

why I thought you knew. I am on my way to see him,

as a matter of fact. I'll tell him you are here."

According to the colonel, the former chaplain had

resigned from the Army after the battle of Seoul and

had settled down on a small island just outside the

harbor of Pusan, where he tended a church in a

refugee camp. Nearly two thousand refugees from

North Korea were accommodated there; the colonel

thought there were many Christians among them.

"Ah, those Christians," he said, "wherever they

may be, they will have their church, even in a refugee

camp, and there is always someone to look after them.

"Speaking of their church, by the way," he added,

"do you remember the one across the street from our

detachment in Pyongyang? The one that clanged its

bell all the time? It's gone now and so is the building

we were in. Our bombers did a thorough job on

Pyongyang the day you got out of it, when the

Chinese were pouring in. Yes. That block is nothing

but rubble now." He rose from his chair. "Well, I

must leave you. Captain. I am glad to see you are

recovering well and I hope the Army will let you go

back to your university when you get out of here."

^l^;i^li^lj^;i^^^li^l^l^^^ 39

THOUGH MY CONDITION improved I was not recovering fast enough and I had to remam in the

hospital. Then one day, about two weeks after Colonel

Chang's visit, Mr. Koh came to see me. When he was

shown into my room I did not recognize him immedi-

ately. His mustache was gone and he had lost con-

siderable weight. He stood near me at the open

window. I asked him if he had seen Colonel Chang.

"Yes. He came to see me at the camp," he said. "I

wanted to come to see you before this but I have been

unable to leave the island." He had about two hundred

Christians among the refugees in the camp and new

refugees arrived nearly every day. "They come from

all parts of the North. How they managed to escape

from there is beyond my comprehension but they

keep coming, alone or in small groups, by land and by

boat. I am afraid, though, it won't be too long before

all the escape routes are sealed off by the Reds."

303

304

A cool breeze from the sea rustled the curtains. He looked out of the window and pointed to the eastern

side of the harbor. "Our camp is out there," he said.

"It is now called the Tent Island because we all live in

tents. I hope you will come and visit us. We have quite a few Christians from Pyongyang and they all knew

Mr. Shin, of course. But I haven't been able to learn

anything definite about him. No one seems to know

for sure what happened to him."

"You have heard from Colonel Chang about him

haven't you?" I said.

He came back from the window and faced me

gloomily. "Colonel Chang is dead!" he said, and his

voice broke. When he was able to compose himself

he handed me a letter.

The letter read:

... It grieves me to inform you that Colonel Chang

has been killed in action while performing his duty

for his country and for his people. I know you two

have been close to each other through many an

ordeal and I know, therefore, how this news will

sadden you. As an oflBcer in charge of the operation

he did not have to participate in person in the raid

in which he met his death. He died somewhere on the

coast of southern Manchuria. I am sorry I cannot tell you more than this. But I can tell you that his

death was a noble and brave one. When he zmd his

men were ready to withdraw from the beach they

305

were met by a heavy attack from the enemy and it

became impossible for the entire raiding party to

withdraw safely. Colonel Chang and a few others

stayed and held the enemy, while the others made

their way to the landing craft that evacuated them.

A few days later, through our agents, we learned that the enemy had captured one of our men who

died of his wounds later, but Colonel Chang and the

others had been killed in the battle. It was a sacri-

fice on the part of the colonel beyond the call of duty

and I have taken necessary measures to see to it that

his heroic sacrifice be property commemorated. I

would like you to come to Taegu to see me at your

convenience, for I have a certain smn of money that

was left by Colonel Chang for you. I have had my oJBBcers, those who worked with the colonel, con-

tribute, and I hope you will come to Taegu, so that

I may have the pleasure of seeing you again and

personally entrusting you with the money. It was

Colonel Chang's wish that you use the money to

purchase Bibles for your church at the camp, for he

had seen that you had very few of them available for

your people. . . .

l^^^\!^^;^;^^^^;j^^^ 40

BY THE SECOND week of May I was well enough to be allowed to leave the hospital for occasional brief

visits to the city. One afternoon, shortly after I had

returned from a walk, a doctor came to my room,

accompanied by a young Marine sergeant.

The sergeant had come from Chinhai, a naval town

about three hours drive from Pusan to the west. He

was an assistant to the chaplain at the naval hospital

there.

"You have been sent for by the chaplain," the doc-

tor explained.

"It is about Captain Park, sir," the sergeant said.

"His records said we should notify you in case of

emergency. He was wounded on May second on the

eastern front. We finally located you down here, sir, and we would appreciate it, Captain, if you would

come to see him."

306

307

"I think it would be all right," the doctor said. "You

can make the trip."

The sergeant would drive me to Chinhai and back

to Pusan.

Twilight was slowly approaching when we arrived

at the Naval hospital in Chinhai. The chaplain was not

in his office; he was visiting Park. The sergeant took

me to the doorway of Park's room, where I saw the

chaplain seated beside the bed in the dim Ught, quietly

praying. Beyond his silvery head, I saw Park's dark

profile, half buried in the white pillow. I waited for

the chaplain outside the room. Presently he came out

to meet me.

After thanking me for coming, he said that Park

had been unconscious for the last two hours and sug-

gested that we come back later. He was an old man

with many wrinkles in his pale face. We walked out of the hospital, side by side, into a spacious garden that

looked out onto the bay, where gray warships lay

quietly moored. The distant horizon glowed with the

lingering rays of sunset. We sat down on the grass. "I am afraid he won't last long," he said in a low

voice. "I heard that they removed three bullets from

his chest before he was sent down here. He was all

right when he came. One day he sent for me and said

he was a sinner as ancient as mankind is. A strange thing to hear from a Marine officer, don't you think?

308

I understood him, naturally, when he told me that his

father was a Christian minister. Just that and nothing

more. I have talked with him off and on. Meanwhile,

his condition became worse and this morning the doc-

tors told me that he might not survive. So I sent for

you. I would have sent for you sooner but Captain

Park's records came here only yesterday.

"I saw him this afternoon and told him that you

were coming. He was hardly able to talk but managed

to ask me to write this down for you." He gave me a

sheet of paper. "I don't quite understand it but I hope

you do."

The words read:

I have been clinging onto the precipice of History,

but I give up. I am prepared to take leave of it.

A cool breeze drifted toward the land from the darkening sea. The long shadow of a flagpole stretched

up the sloping garden. The grass felt chilly against my

palms.

"If he dies," I said to the chaplain, "will you give

him a Christian burial?"

"Yes, of course," he said. "That would be quite

proper for a minister's son." He lighted his pipe. "Will

you do me the honor of being my guest at the officers'

club? After dinner we will go to see your friend."

I thanked him and followed him across the garden

to the club.

309

Park did not regain consciousness while I sat beside

him that night and he died quietly around three

o'clock in the morning.

Late in the afternoon he was buried in the Naval

cemetery on a hill that rose gently behind the town of

Chinhai, facing the glistening, dark-green expanse of

the Korea Straits. The chaplain read from the Bible

and prayed. The white cross on the grave shone

harshly in the hot sun. Someone had placed a few

sprigs of blooming azaleas on the moist, dark-brown

earth of the grave. The chaplain's low voice whispered,

"Amen."

A few days later, the Marine Corps headquarters sent me three medals of Park's, together with a cita-

tion posthumously awarded to him by the Chief of

Naval Operations, which read, in part:

. . . ordered to execute a rearguard action so as to

insure a safe completion of the tactical redeploy-

ment of his battalion, he led the survivors of his

company in a heroic defense of a critical mountain

pass, superbly demonstrating his ability as an in-

spiring Marine officer, mercilessly repelling the re-

peated assaults of a battalion of the enemy, until the

last man and the last piece of equipment of his bat-

talion were established in a new position of

strength. ...

;^^^^^;^^^;^^^^^ 41

ONE LATE SUNDAY afternoon, a few days before I was to be discharged from the hospital I took a feny

and went to the Tent Island to visit Mr. Koh. In the

midst of the rows and rows of dark-green tents on the

flat, barren island. North Korean children ran about

barefoot in the choking dust imder the glaring sun of

the South, sUpping in and out of the dark mouths of

the sweltering tents, leaping over and crawling under

the network of ropes that held the tents together.

Voices hummed within the shelters, women hung

clothes on ropes between the tents, and a group of old

people were gathering in front of one that had a Red

Cross sign.

I found Mr. Koh hammering in nails, putting boards

together in the oppressive humid interior of one of the

tents. He took me outside. "This is my church," he

said, pointing to the tent with his hammer. "I am try-

310 ^

311

ing to make a JBcx)r for it before the rainy season be-

gins." He suggested that we walk down to the beach,

where, he said, it might be cooler. "You don't see

many men now," he said as we were walking toward

the beach. "They all work in Pusan during the day,

even on Sundays."

We sat on a flat rock that jutted out above the water. A freighter was gUding out of the harbor. Be- hind us in Pusan, motors bustled and cranes clanked.

The water lapped quietly beneath us.

I told him about Park's death.

He nodded slowly without a word.

After a long silence, he said, "You know, I have

been puzzled by this and I am glad I have you here to

talk about it. As you know we have many Christians

here from practically every comer of the North. I

have come to know them all, of course, and I have

asked them if they knew anything about what hap-

pened to Mr. Shin." He paused rolling up the sleeves

of his khaki shirt. "I have been asking that at every

service and of every newcomer. The word got around

the entire camp that I was asking about Mr. Shin.

The strange thing is that, so far, I have talked with

nearly a dozen people who claim to have seen him.

There are about three or four from Pyongyang who

say that they saw him very much aUve. They don't

surprise me. For all I know they may be telling the

312

truth. But then, of course, we know what Colonel

Chang told us. What puzzles me most is that there

are many people not from Pyongyang who say that

they have seen him. Some say they have seen a man

of his description in a small town on the Manchurian

border. Some say they have seen him on the west

coast. Some insist that they have seen him on the east

coast in a fishing village. It is hard to believe them.

But they all insist that the man they claim to have

seen fits my description in every single detail. What

do you make of that?"

I did not know what to say.

He tapped the rock with the hammer. "Could it be

that the Communists have been sort of dragging him

around?" he said, frowning. "You know, as an enemy

of the people and the state and so on. Most of those

refugees say that he was free. Can you imagine? Not

only alive but free? If I were to beheve all of their

stories, well, Mr. Shin is everywhere in North Korea.

Of course, in such circumstances as we find ourselves

here, refugees are naturally more incUned to remem-

ber or imagine many things they have left behind."

"Such as their memories of suffering?"

He nodded, gazing at me. "But last night I talked

with a man who just came here. He had left Pyong-

yang about a month ago. He is not a Christian but

he had known of Mr. Shin through newspapers and

313

such. Captain, this man is the only person on this

island who told me that Mr. Shin is dead. According

to him he was publicly executed in Pyongyang some-

time in April."

I asked him if the man had seen the execution.

He shook his head. 'That's the trouble. He is not an

eyewitness. So . . . which story should one believe?"

"How odd, that people from different provinces

should think they all have seen Mr. Shin."

'•Yes, and who am I to contradict or doubt what

they claim? They have heard the description of Mr.

Shin and they think they know him." He struck the

rock with the hammer again.

Later when we came back to his tent church he

asked me to stay a little longer. I accepted his invita-

tion and said I was sorry that my visit had interfered

with his work on the floor for the church.

"Oh, I am not in a hurry," he said. "There is always

tomorrow."

I helped him put the boards and nails away, then

clean the church. We then sat out in the sun, facing the tents, watching the children play, and listening

to the humming voices around us. He was smoothing

the rough surface of a wooden cross with a pocket-

knife. "I made it this morning," he said. "I thought

the church ought to have a cross."

314

Gradually the air began to cool and the shadows of

the tents traveled toward us over the ground. Ferries

began to brmg the refugees back to the island from

Pusan. Voices, footsteps, children's shouting mingled

with the tooting and chugging of the ferries. People

appeared from all directions, many of them heading

for the beach where we had been; and there they

cleansed themselves. Offshore the gray figure of a

destroyer loomed. Wiping the cross with a handker-

chief, Mr. Koh invited me to supper. We went into a tent adjoining the church and shared some canned

food. Outside, from the other tents, came loud voices,

occasional laughter, and the tinkling of pots and pans.

He got up. "I'll go and see if I can get some hot

water," he said. "Then we can have some tea."

The dusk fell slowly.

After the meal I went to the church with him and

helped him set up folding chairs for the evening serv-

ice. On the right hand side of the entrance he placed

two chairs on which he stacked Bibles and hymnbooks.

A young barefoot boy appeared in a white cotton shirt and rolled-up khaki pants. Mr. Koh gave him a

brass bell with a wooden handle. The boy went out-

side and began to ring the beU. After hghting two can-

dles, Mr. Koh took his position behind a table that

served as an altar; he held a Bible in one hand, the

315

cross in the other. I sat on a chair near the entrance.

Christians were arriving.

So it was that I found myself in the tent church,

beneath the dome of tarpauhn in the warm, thick air,

in the midst of a congregation of North Korean refu-

gees, Ustening to their murmured prayers and ecstatic

chantings, hearing the impassioned sermon delivered

by their minister. I gazed at the two candles twinkling

on the table, behind which stood the minister, now

with both hands gripping the wooden cross; and I

whispered to myself that I had indeed come a long,

long way from Pyongyang, while the scenes and the

events of the recent past illuminated themselves in my

memory like the pictures on a revolving lantern.

The congregation bowed their heads silently.

A latecomer opened the flaps of the entrance and sUpped in. The candles flared up and, for a second,

the white wooden cross looked red.

Minister Koh said, "Let us pray ... let us pray for

our brethren in the North."

Murmuring voices, rising and subsiding, began to

envelop me.

"Our Father," he began.

"Our Father," voices echoed him.

How long, I wondered, how long will the people

listen to the voices whispering to them, one from

within history, the other from far beyond history.

316

each promising them salvation and justice, each ask-

ing them to pledge themselves to its promise? And

suddenly, I remembered that night of violence at Mr.

Shin's; I saw again, in the Ught that seeped through

the line of guards and Military Police, the cluster of

old women kneeling in the snow, heard again their

sorrowful dirge, laden with the world's grief. But . . .

until it was time for them to chant a dirge for me . . .

I left the church and stood outside, listening to the

voices of those who had their god and could say

"Amen."

Soon the service was over and the boy came out of

the tent to ring his bell again.

I walked away from the church, past the rows of

tents where silent suffering gnawed at the hearts of

people—^my people—and headed toward the beach, which faced the open sea. There a group of refugees,

gathered under the starry dome of the night sky, were

humming in unison a song of homage to their home-

land. And with a wondrous Ughtness of heart hitherto

unknown to me, I joined them.

Introductory Comments

and

Notes

by

Wang-Rok Chang

Introduction

sjH 4A7l7l- -?-^J^l >1MM :^B^ ^ 4^ '<J^*J: ^-If-^ Richard E. Kim(t:,i.S)f^ <?6lt5c^>(®^ : The Martyred) 7f x-j ^c| 4.

.ri47Mi^ -He^T °^°JiHl, tl-l-H ^^°J°d J-7} 4^7j:^ ^^A5. nl-^E^*V ^<Hlr t"4*V^ ^-I^^ ^^i -^m "V-d -r4^ $ftff* ^

^^]E. 3.7)1 7iH^ °^*I4. ^1^ °l *-^-& "yr^Jr^ ^1 "^4 ^^1 ?*'

^^.^<H, °^-^^ -§- -Hi Til 4-^<HHi Hl^^J:<^l 4AJL 514^ ^4.

4^ ^^'^d-irSl X7MJ-I: ^ -^ 01 i^ ^^1tPl: ^i-^ '^H^i ^V ^ JiL-fe- ^"^l 4<d7V i\:iL ^}^}t\7] ^ 4. 4^1 oil ^ SI stYf <^^> (Grass Roof. 1931)°l ^^^^ ^ 3i ¥A f^ <f,l^ir-^ 3L^4> (Yalu Fliesst, 1932)-£- ^^ 4- a.el 4 <?6ll^*>^ *t]-4T ^«.^^1 ^S.^ «l-t 4-<<d7j:&l ^J-T^>.1- #1^1> -^^^-inl ^^d<Hl ^1V4.

""^I^ ^i^tUl 4^ °J:°-^ -H^i 7V^1 ^^^ °ot>ye.l S14JL ^ ^ 7^^^ >^J-^d^ 4i^ ^Hl ^l^tV^l^-i-^l 4?j(To which one did you

mean to appeal, granting that there are several kinds of conscience

as you seem to imply? p. 110).

'"'HMI7V ^si^UVai i4iel(^f^S)*l-^l ?*^4-^ ^oflJi4i ^^1

°1^ iJ-E^l-Hl Sl4-t 5j<Hl ti ^A-^ ^vlBl7l- 5i 4. (Deeper truth lies in

the fact that the world is not meaningless and absurd but is in a

meaningless state, p. 229)

.

3

^^ xi^^ a^s] sV4^1 4^-1: 4l^*l-i 5l^l°J: -^'5! ^4^ ^d'O-^i oi 11^1 T^llr ^-^^^A^ 5}-:2- -& m^.m^.l /J^i^^lel-JL ^ -^ 514.

^-1-4 ±^\^ ^-l-f-oil^i ol *Jii- ^'-fl 2- 4^1 ^)^1 d)-^d4:i^ 5114. -^1

i). 4^sfoi (Efoj)!* (2^ 27 BM) •fP'Hl^it -^-l^^^l ^^t\jL 5i4. ""^cil 4i^io)l -i-^o'-sl-^ ^jil--^ ^'Hl #1*1: 4^>-i:'^l 4^1 &1- ^Nft

^-1:. ^ ^1^<H1 4-=^ ^-li\JL SlA^^ii ^S^^l-s^lt ^-fi-A^ ^d *11^i 4^1- "i:;! Sl^ 4 ^'--1:^14. ^1:^ 4 ^J-'H) ^i 7I- o}.u1 e.|. ^n^

<H1^1 *J^ -^AH ^-1: 44^ ?Ei^^l ^ *i 4°o'-^ 'll^^tj-'d^i ^-1:

^*J: ^uj4^1 ^°d^°,l 51-^14. ^ i^* 4 "^l -^l^-^ 44^1 4 ^-1:4 Hii^^ ^ ^4. 44 4 «l *Ji-^ 44°il^l^1 <^*o'=^ 1>a{:A H a.<Hl7ll 6] ^ -i: til-;ilji Si 4. (The saints of modern fiction are

not the God-drunk but the nonbelievers- men racked with doubt but

cursed with the will to survive, They find their strength not in

faith but in despair, their heroism in acknowledging the prospect

of their own extinction.

Such a man is the hero of this somber and remorseless first

novel. As an examination of the theme, it can stand with the works

of Camus, by whom it was inspired and to whom it is dedicated. )

^^ -^4 El-°ii . ^ . el-H- 2n 16BM1: ^^ , ^ ^1 °^^<Hl ^^ .H<Hl 4e) 4-^(44 ^]^t\7\] ^^^1 ?) ^4^ ^^14*}: 444 tJ-^l <4^ ^-Hli 4^^ 'si^S)°14^ 4^A^ 444 4 ^ "=1 4N Si^ iHl n. ^tHeHl^i o^n] n^vsj-i 014.

"H^-^ ^^14 4H4-gr -§- • i^-i.^) =^^1,'k^'Hl 2. • 44 4 4^ ^ 5."^^ ^ ^J el 4 11 4-1-^1 ^i ^*14 4^A^^i -f-4-l- 4 4M) i SI4. <^l <?Sjl^#>-b 44 'Hi Til 4*^^i ^014. o] ;^ -^ aii ^ ^^ 4: 4f-'^H Aelli-s- U--I- ^014. (In any case, Mr, Kim's book

stands out as one written in the great moral and psychological

tradition of Job, Dostoevsky and Albert Camus, to whose memory

"The Martyred" is dedicated.lt is a magnificent achievement, and

4

will last.

<^n^>^ ^5 4 21 -b ^-^y^^ Y'f^]^] M- 4^1 <^a ^ ^ 21-b ^m 1- 4^011471- ^e|7i- ^Ai iJSL ^^ ^^ ^-=1 ^-fe*- rj^^y-jdi- lusion) -<^l ^^<Hl <'^^^e1-g: :^i>f-> (glorious illusion)*!^ "^i 4 ^^|„j. o\] ^14^1 t>jL n 61.^0] r;tjxj._j( reality)^ 4-r 4=- 4-t ^-i: HlJfiUA^ K^tyjL o|4. 7l^iil ^^^ch^l ^iv ^m^^^ ^^y} ^^7} ^^7} t]-^ ^^ °-^]o^ ^ 4xj 7lEl7V slElel-i °J ^4. ^^ef-^Hl oVwi4 4^ S-^o'- °>lf:-i-, "^^V^"^ i&#°d ^^ m, n±m. i^^^fe, ^^m -s-<^i ^ ?6)i^#-ir^ ^^ ^^y^-i-^ti^ 4^-}- ^-1:^ ^4-^°J 4*,}-^ &^*Vi 51-^ ^, <^>1 ^4^<HH1 H 4^V -1-^^ SV^ll: "-iH ^4.

<^ '=11'^^ m^ ^"^14 ^^ -t ^-^^ -^41- -8r <7M^>(like dogs) ^^^4 sV4'd^ H^^l-'d^i ^5dAwl mm^^"^ 7]^-MtM. 4-i:<^lel-JL 4 ^ ^4. ^^^ "^4 y-^ ^ -^-41: ^m^Mjl -f •i: ^ 2l^^4 ? |$<feeip-t ^^4 ^^i^^^i ^i^-^-l ^^^Awl f:^^ ia4 4^1 * l: ^4i ^ifeeip-^ 44^1 ^4*0: 4 '^ -1: ^1*)14 -b ^ ^-1- ^sj^uv^i °>-^ 4^'-4-^^ ?6)Kc#^l ^i7f 51 7)-^ *V4h!:^

-b i 44-£ "^f}^-^! sV4y-i: °tl^l U^^^ 4^^^ ^l-^iB. T^ni 45^-^^ -I- ^ §14. :i^^4'^ <^:iL4>4:n. o|i--i--gr 4 ^^1 ^-2- <^Jf- •f'^ Ti2-4t sl-4i al4-t 4«M''l^^ ^-?r<Hl itlV4. ZL ei4 ^4 %V4^ 7l^jiLi7)- 44-^4 i-=4 4 el i.^ iol- y]-^}^^ ^^^V ^iiL4^ #fSli[s]4o): PKV51-4. ^'^-H ^4 44«Hl 5)5l-<^ mar- tyr(^ia4)ai -y:^!. ^4^^l ^-^ ''471^1 4°o^ ^-^ iS* i^i 51-ir.ul 4el-el JI4-I: t^l 'kM 4 ^4^ ^^1*1-^ 4 ^J-j (a person who chooses to suffer or die rather than give up his faith or his

principles. )-^^ s) 4 514.

>11?-]4 ^^ :E.il4-& *l-4-£ ^4-i: "^4 ?s'al4-^ 4-^51- <^«tl: 4 i-lr-gr -i:^ ^oH^, 4^^1, --l<M)^l. °l4i^ -1-i *14<^ zi-i- STil

5

•y-^ ^7l 4l«fl +^^1: ^7l «fl-S:o11 ^iil4i^i£l iS^ 71-^1-t iH

^V^-i: ol ^^^^ °|^ fi^, |^fi#-i:<Hl7fl ^4-ej. ^;M)^ti;s^ ^

o| s!| oj -1:311 -t *fl °l ^1 <:>| 5. -f-^J! ^ °Jr# 7j-^ sj-jl. o)l c^ 5V4. —1.

v-i6v)°J ^^^ol&l-Ji -^4 ? °1^<HH1 4^7j- fijf^ c^^% ^ ^-1-71- °1 "J: # i§|i&5|- |t^o| 4t*}: 5l ^H^At^^ii i2.i5V:2- T^^J^l ^'U*1-4..S

^ -H^-2.^ ^ -^1 ^-]-i-8r -fel^ *1-^^ ¥«-!- ^^«V:n- ilS^ i^

i-4 'd^-i:<^l i-f- -i-^ si^ ^v^°d-ir«l7i "ii^oii, Ai^-^^ -f

e^ij(The Living Reed)!: ^^^1 ^mm "O^-^ h el 1: °J:-& 4 $1

^-§7 44* iv4)jL si 4.

is^^^oj ^-fi-^a^- ^^^4 4-c- -^i^4 4.^^ 4^4 :n.4-f .^^^V4-t ^-8: ^u"-"^^ 4e=i-S: "^^^Kl-. :iel4 ^^1-t 4^ <=l ^ -§- ''j4 4^4j(To take one incident and, through it express the uni- versal need of the human heart for God the agony of doubt

combined with the longing to believe, is difficult- indeed. Mr- Kim

has accomplished just this. )

mm. 4-1-^1 4 4 ^,@.^^l -^4 ^«lil4 'yr'Hl aUW ^^1-^ 1932

#

SJcH ^^S«M 8-15 »fl my. 1950 ^<H1 ^i-i:^^<Hl °J*i-111-^4 6-25 -f-e^o] 0^0^44 °l*3l- ^^<Hl^i i^ ^E| ^J-^a ^-& -f^A^ ^ -?-tf47f 1954^<Hl mm. °l-i-'*i ^^['HHi ^J^l*}-, ^-^^J^^^S oMiAii)- ^^Jc»)tv, ^VHH^ ^*,H^i "^-Sr^i- 'U ^^-l^'t 'd^tJ 4. :iel:ii ^^H ^ - ^] ^ ^^J ^ «]-<HHi ^-S:«^3iV %v;o-^^ ^^^\tyjL 514. 4^^i o)^ ^1°)^-|- '^^l U^ ^H ^^H ^ti"^ 4^ ^tj-

,4^ *J:4. ^^1 51- Ji4 €: 'y:^d-|- «l-^ °i--i- 7i^i44.

1964 ^ 4 ^ 6 B -^Tceip^l IH=4- -IrAH

B£ f*

NOTES

P. 5. Albert Camus (1913-1959) s.^}±.^ *#±«&^ ^^iy\, ^-^7K ^--^71, 1957^d<Hl NobeU^:t-i: «>^, UEtranger

(The Stranger)(1942), Lc Pes/eCThe Plague)(1947), Vho-

mmc Revoke (The Rebel)(1951),

P. 9. Holderlin Johann Christian Friedrich Holderlin (1779—

1843)^'^^^] ifA. <^1 '^^-i-i^^d'^1'^^ shee]-^ ^-^ the grave

suffering land (of mine)-|- 7|-s^<L4.

P. 11. 8. junior officers tj-^^^h^

9. battle-tested ;^d-^ 7j-^o] o}^

14. Mopping-up operation ^^'-^•--j.

16. (we) were both promised(to be conferred) medals

P. 12. 1. a first lieutenant ^^\

2. the eastern front -f-r-^d-li

3. antitank company ftHi$4^^

8. Army Political Intelligence(Bureau) -^^^^ ^1 ^J i'T.

9. in due conformity with the table of organization. ^\.

22. Which was to be expected. ^11 -^i Which^ zl ^i^^J-^l

he had seldom talked o] ^\^- til-i-4.

27. his obsession with his equally obsessive God n^il ti] ^

P. 13. 5. had not Mr. Park told his congregation, - if Mr.

Park had not told his congregation

23. the liberation(^<^o^^^<^l 7]--^ 4 ^)«]]tij- P. 14. 14. the Reds '^7^0]

22. the debris-ridden slope 3>5^^^ ^1 ^ <d <^ ^^ . debris

8

CdebriO ridden = dominated, oppressed

24. bnUet-riddled buildings W&^^^ <=! ^ 41: P. 15, 2". my commanding officer i4-&| ^,^^ P. 16. 5. His subordinates were- -five minutes. zL-a] -^t]-^

-& ^^-l- ^^ "M ^i «^ ^^ 5^^ <^1 vf- 7l 45.] 71] ^]-&4^ zLo\ ^^o\\ ci^^ sa^4.

p. i7. 4. a notorious soldier of fortune ^^^7] ^ ^^^4

17. a big break €^4^ 18. Our CIC was able to round up- -the missing men. 4-5^1

^^ ^ 3lSd4. CIC^ Counterintelligence Corps^ i§5*.

21. They were all shot---^^^ 4^3 o] ^] ^-]-4 ^^r ^^ ^^^ ^5tJ4.

P. 18. 12. round up i^4 P. 19. 18. however hypothetical it may be <^\^^] fS-iS6^^J.

:^ o] 4 *£^] 4^ P. 20. 1. Shin and Hann tf3 4 ^. -^ ministerC-^4)^ o] ^.

9. From the President to- -privates. ci]-|-^\£.^-^e^ ^j-^,

^J-*, ^ ^ '^l ^i 4^1] ^ ^^ 1:^] <^] =-7] 44 ^- 11. Christian chaplains ^^1: 17. I have no intention whatsoever of-oi]x-j whatsoever-fe^

whatever^] ^^.MM, ^^ 3l^ mMH^\ r^^:£J, T^ 4 J, of any kind, at all^l ^. f5ij. There is no doubt whatever. Is there any chance whatever?

P. 22. 5. I could visualize Colonel Chang- -4^ ^^-cfl^'^l

-r- al^4.

9

P. 23. 14. A flight of stone steps led op 1^ -=1 ^A^ ^ ^:^11: AS ^ ^7^^ ^^^^ z^^^A 7l-l-oi]7f;=cl o]

22. at any moment <=d>^l <H A-rf] (^^1 «>ll ^S.)

P. 24. 19. any day now <^^^1-^ ^^A ^^j jl (^ -|- 11^14.)

P. 25. 12. its small, shattered stained-glass window zl -^

23. I mean tell someone U----Ayl ^^1-^ ^-^ ¥^=^-^]^l '^

P. 2e. 21. though 1 had not -be. ^^ ^^*1: ^J^^^^h ^^-l^ ;^H1 cfl€^:]x>^^ ;^j^5^ U ti]-7]- §i$].;^l^J: cf. I have not the slightest notionCidea) of what he means.

P. 27. 3. I drove up the winding road -4^ ^i^^=^1 -i ^ 4-^ T^^i"^1> ^J-l- ^1-* -t4 ^^^^4.

P. 30. 1. His Adam's apple twitched as he- -zl-s^ 4 n-'^l -f-

13. for fear(that) = lest

P. 31. 14. what I had been briefed on by QC CIC 5.^5^

18. If SO, I don't mind-^J:^-]^ ::l^4^ 4^ ^4l^ "^=^(^ <^^^<^^ ^^ A4<^ 7l-)-t- ^^*>4a -J:t>t ^.-i: ^^tM ?> ^^.

P. 32. 4. we established it as the fact ^^l^n^l^ ^4 *> 4^^^ ^1^J12 4.

P. 33. 27. divine intervention #^ jThA P. 34. 4. Then call it luck. iL^^-i n.^^^ Mi5[,s.'fW^l ^^ ^

16. A jeep- • -nightly blackout, zl ^^^y]3. A'='1^'^\A %M

10

^m^ 'M^1=SIJ1: >Q-7l^l7l^^ ^^V li'^^V ^^^1 t^SJ: 4.

P. 35. 13. who then machine-gunned- -dynamiting it. zl5]

^ ^-1:-^ ^ ^^^1*^ i^^oi] 7l^^ ^#t^ 7HfjL a- ^ ^^ <y ^^ 40] 4n}-o| ^^ t^ ^^ A^^ iL^ ^ -i-5li 4.

15. detachment ^]-^i^

21. Something gave way under my boots. -f-'5^ ^A 4 ^ n^

p. 3^ 1. pulling, carrying, dragging a man^ ^<H ^ a human hand

3. lying on his back ^ ^ ^o^afl ^^ ^<\ , cf . He on one's stomach. "^3.5^ -^4.

13. as if trying to shield-behind the cameras «|-^1 zlv]-

16. would you move away so I can get a better shot of

Mm? iL5^ 4^14- * ^i ^^ ^1-1- ^ OlS-^ # ^]^^^1^1 ?iA^ v] 4 ? get a shot 4ll^ ^A ^4.

P. 3S. 5. a formation of bombers ^^7] ^€i\

P. 39. 6. let him have his way 4^1 4^ il-?r ^^ 44^]. 12. to put me off my gruard t^ ^^l^j-i: ^"5]^] 1]:4. on

CofOone's guard C:^[^)^^4^

P. 40. 24. But that's beside the point, n.^ 4 ^^ ^ ^^i ^ ^<HaJ:4, beside (away from) the point = off the point

to the point .S-^alTfl

P. 41. 2. confess and bear witness to the charges. 4^^^ '^}^

P. 44. 8. regular staff meetings ^j ?il ^is] ^ 16. the Yalu River fii^ttC

11

p. 45. 3. the Tomen River ^j^iX

16. hand-to-hand combat [^jfiii;

16. CO commanding officer -r-^^ ^^

P. 46 23. the Marine Corps liaison officer- -headquarters. -o.^]

^-fo:1 H^^^ ^^^ =^^ ^iH P. 47. 24. to locate Captain Park «-| ^^y]- al^ ^-r ^^-^y

P. 48, 1. I don't have any idea what he was up to. il7\-

6. sort of hush-hush "i^z}: 41 ^ t'^^ ^] ^J <^^1 ^t]-4.

22. out of two hundred or so who- -with him n.$^ ^^^i ^

P. 49. 4. a God-daroned Russian mine °>^ ^^ iL^^l

7. the first aid station -%-^ ^] S-^

17. encroached upon my private life ifl %L^i^-%: ^n"^^

4.

p. 50. 19. for that matter =as far as that goes n. ^^]<>\]

P. 51. 5. groping for the right word- • -about Park. "^^V^

^ «l-o]l x:i\i^ ^ 44 °1 ^^^ ^14^^ ^^Pj-*> n^^ i.il-<H

p. 52 14. why you should -this favor. ^o]]7\] o]^ J:^^

*'1#<H ^7i ^fi] ^i-4ci ^x^-i- ^^o> 4^ 4|V P. 55. 3. To be sure n.o]z ^^, 4=^

i^J, To be sure, she is not perfect, but,

24. regardless of whether- -or what not. n.^o] -^tb'lL*!

^ ^^It^d^l^ ^-^ ^^^\ ^'i^]^± 7^Hl i]-4 §1^1 p. 54. 18. in the same light of human passion <lL^^ ^^^J^

12

P. 55. 27. It is for Him to judge me. 41: ^2 ^4^ ^^ ^

P. 56. 5. I was on the point of telling him- -4^ zlc>\]7\]

15. I thought you might-"4 ^^4^] ^^ ""^^ Sl^.^^^l

P. 57. li. was nearly identical to •••s^l t]^] -f-<^^^^4.

P. 59. 6. a narrow, gradually -shoulder to shoulder, -t-^1

7V <^-^'i\^ 4^J:-^1 431 7^^ ;^147^ ^ oj^ pV^^ ^:^ ^.j.

16. in a clearing "11 e^<^l

P. 61. 1. artillery observation post i ^^^ 6. the strategic value of- -gain. n. ^i]^ e^lt ^^"^^A 4^14t ^Jr^l ^4-^d^^ <^]°-]-|: 4-1 «^^ ^"^.^ 4^-b ^^4 ^i ^4.

9. But the Reds- --and target O-v^^l '^7-^^]^^ o.^^] ^4

P. 62. 5. white-robed elders sj ^^^>7l 1: H] ^ :i:^^ 16. reached for the rack- --the pew s^'A ^\-] ^^^<^1<=^1 -^

-I: ^^4. P. 64. 16. She seemed---with me ol^^ jl^^jl 4-1: <H ?|

71] r^l-t4 -1:4 ^^ n}|jL oj^ ^^^^ i^4. P. 65, 19. You should have told me about it sooner, n.^

P. 67. I. She was taken aback by- • zii^ ^-cH] ^^^^ ^5t4.

19. Mr. Park helped him through the seminary. ^^^1(-^

4)-^ o-l: 5.4 ^-^^^-l: 4-1- ^ al7)l n ^5514.

13

P. 68. 3. After making a routine check with the duty of-

ficer ^l^A ^}^ -J-^^ ^M^A^'l Sfi^-I- It ^Hl

P. 69. 11. my poor friend feels quite mortified that he survived the Reds' persecution ^ yHi-^ ^T'-t 'a^goj-i-

^ ^I^^l^i -k^^V^-^ ^^] ^«fl ^^ J^^^^tfjL 014TL ^3 4-

P. 70. 14. a joint memorial service ^^-^ ^5. <5^1 ^

P. 71. 13. you'll take care of, say, logistic problems. ^\

vil ^ °^tf4^ ^th ^^1 * °^<^1- i^l . C'^'l ^ ^ -T- You will^ You are to5]- n}-^J:7|-^] ^ 4^^1 ^ ^-^ ^^1 i%H <H al^O

P. 75. 2. a double agent ^l ^- 7^^^

6. go underground ^t>l -^i itkTM®)"^4.

7. so to speak = as it were '^t}-^'^

P. 74. 22. We mustn't let the martyrs down. 4-^1 ^ ^^ 4^h: ^-l^t-p^-^i-^ "ib^H^, let down slower, disappoint,

fail.

P. 77. 12. We are very thoughtful of each other. ^^1 ^ A^ ^M^'M ^i^^^i ^^^-r^ ?^^1 4^ aI4.

21. clear his throat V^A^^^ *J:4.

P. 78. 14. a Communist informer ^1it^i^4^ ^It °5li4

P. 75. 15. we used code names for our agents. 4-^] ^ -r-^l

21. A lieutenat insisted- -no choice. ^^^^^ -t-41^ ^^ "^ ^1^ a).^ 1> ^^^ -f^l4 ^ °^:il41: ^<^H iH5^4 *>4 jL ^^J-^JL, 4^ 4-& ^^14 ^5i4.

P. 80. 3. put up a fight ^y^t\7\] 4^4. 6. "Why are you tell me all this?'o11^i telH ing4 ^4

8. his son died a hero's death in the cause. ilb\ o|-^o]

14

18. I did what I felt was the rigt thing. 4^ ifl y} %^ ^l^]^!r^ ^5^i-*l ^.^ ^4. I felt^ nAW.

19. I am not in sympathy with the notion of nonviolent

resistance. ^-^ ^mtl&*ji ^}'-M ^^ ^M ?^^4. 21. turning the cheek to de slapped twice. :£ tb ^ li^] ^]n^ «f^ ^^4- cf. New Testament (4"^^ ^^^i) 4^ (St, Matthew) is^g' S^J- o9^A<^] fThat ye resist not evils : but

whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him

the other also. J (<^-]-*]: 4-1: ^^^^1 "^4. nrn^^^l ^^1 -^^

^ «v-|. ^]7]^ 4:1^2- ^^ i=i]H,)4^ aI4. 21. Heavens no! ^^^.m] } <>1%1^ ^^^ ^e]!

P. 81. 7. if not a physical battle = even though they were

not 'vaging a spiritual battle against the Reds.

14. in come the Reds to bag them all and shoot the tw-

elve ^t73o]-i-o] Iro) *H ^Ir-I- i-f- ^1^4<^ <t ^ ^^ 4^:11:4. the Reds come in-"4 MWJi'^, bag-fe- <^ 7] >] cap-

ture^! ^.

P. 82. 5. a Judas =^:1^-1: '^ll 4*1 -n-44 -U-& «11 44, 3i4 ^J 4 ^i-^l -|:-€r ^7ESf5]oll ^4

.

8. Not because I wanted to clear myself but because- •

and what not. ^^ nr^^ ^^1 4s1|^i4 4^14 ^4^ ± ^^i 441:'^1^ ^^]^A-^ 44^K 41: ^l^tt 4H "h^^^ v], 4v] 4jl ^il:<Hri]^ 0] «-«> 71^514-1:4 t]^ 4-f

^J-^ <=>! ^14 i^i 44 1:4 ^ ^^1 «fl-&'^14. 18. Perhaps, he was angry- -in the name of justice. 44

5. ZL^, ^^7} ^4-i- ^J:n- ^lai, ^^ -^011 c^44, ^jo^^

4^-^^^ ^-^-^ ^1.4-b 441:^ 4-^1 4-=^ 4:2- 4-t ^ -I- :fi.aL -ii:.^4. in uniform 4-4"5: '^^^2. al-^ meddle with

15

^^11:4. it^l ^^y] ^1 4. what he calls r^4 o] ^ ti|-J^ |^ Afff. in the name of f-^ ^^A^J cf. in the name of (God) rC^l-4^)'^l ^^^^I^Mjr^ 0] ^A^j (under the na- me of) r^ ^ ^1 ^J (on behalf of)

P. 83. 7. not speaking out the trnth amounts to lying. ^ ^0^4- "^^H ?i^ ^^ 7^^*^tf^ T^jr]- tii:g-tV4. amount to = be equivalent to f?ij. This answer amounts a refusal. *]

5]^-g, 7l^d3.v 4^^ 4. 10. I pressed him hard. 4^ zl^ ^?-|il4.

P. 84. 11. I don't follow yon at aU. 4^ ^^4 "t^ ^dt^ <^1 *fl-^ ^ L-H-^ 4. cf. Can you follow me? vfl 7]- t}^ ^^ <=^ 4 ^^^?

17. He suggested- • -of help to me, 3.^ 4-11 <^1 4 ^fl <i[ ^;?i]

4^2- H:^-a-^4. of help = helpful cf. of use = useful of

importance = important.

P. 85. 2. What would you if you were in my place? ^t] <^j

^M ^14^^ 44-^<H^7il 451-H-M4? "I would tell the truth. Chaplain, " I declared. "Truth cannot be bribed.

*

r^^^J, 4^^^A^ ^^--fl^ 't^V^-t-H4J 4t ^^^4 tm

P. 86. I. the briefing ^.5-13^(^^01 7,] ^j s-1 *> 714-s]: ^^^) 2. the report concerning the encounters of- -the western

front ^i-f ^d^d^i]^-! oj-^ ^%^7V 4^itj?4 ^^*^ 7^1 oi|

7. the lieutenant on duty 4^ 4i(^)4 cf. off duty ^1^# P. 87. 7. I was well briefed on him. ilo\] vi\f^A] ^^ jjljl

-1: H>^4.

P. 88. 6. Freedom Press 4-n- 4^(4^ =>! -I-)

16

7. a public announcement by the preparation committee

11. Army Intelligence Authority ^t ^d ^ ^ch'-n" 14. North Korean puppet regime -^^t :=i s] ^ ^ 17. Reverend Park =-: ^<}. Reverend^Rev. )^ ^j^^f^ ^%i.

20. on an alleged charge of "'counterrevolutionary act-

ivities. " "51^-0] siji ^^^^f-^ Pg-^^ 22. Internal Security Bureau of the puppet regime j^s]:^

P. 89. 2. preparations are under way ^«1 yV ^*| ^6] tf.

7. transportation, and other facilities are being made

available to them :^-i:^ ^f^ ^V^]- il^^£-] ^^y} ^}^s\

^il. City water is not available in this neighborhood. I'm

available over the telephone.

13. regardless of their religious affiliations zl^^ ^M<=^]

^^] ^^]

P. 90. 1. Parka-clad officers and men, •••the air base ope-

rations building. ^\f}% ^-^ -^ ^^^^l 4^ ^^] <=^ 7] ^y]

^^J: ^^4<Hl^i ^^^-k <^]^3L %l^4.

P. 91. 6. the haughty sparkles of his eyes had given way

to a brooding- ••T^Hr4^1 Ht^'^l Ri ^^ ^ 3.-^<^) ^^1 ^^ 44-^ S-^^JlS. ^^ 'a^4. give way to <='o^i*V4.

9. Let's not talk about it, shall we?'>l] ^] ^H ^1 -Sl tag question<^l ^-^l . Let's not^-^i:?] 4 Let's----£] tag question-gr shan't we? c] 4.

24. his dark-green fatigue jacket n.^] ff|#.fe f^^^g ^:£b1

P. 92. 15. I am occupied- • -later on. 4-^-tr 4^^ 4^'Hl 4

17

19. I can't think of anyone who could shed more light on

it than Mr. Shin. 4^ 4^1 (-^4)^4:^ ^ ^^^ ^i ^^

P. 93. 1. I couldn't care less, s.^^] ^}-^^] ^^]^] °^^}.

19. "What does it say?''---her face, f^ ^^]^] ^]€\-jl^Jo]

A?J n.1^^ °1^^ ^Ir-I- -4A^^i ^5i4.

25. compose oneself ^l^iT!:4.

P. 95. 4. I couldn't stand it. ^] ^i standi endure^^ ^. b]-

-1-4 standi o]«4-oil P^ ^1>4JCface), M ^^ ^41]:4J (bear the expense of)-£] ^^1 ^jL, ^ stand a chance-b P"^!

17. it was a flat statement uttered matter-of-factly. a.

^-^ ^1^4:^1 °^^4 ^-^44 '^147] ^4. 25. I want to find out- -on earth. 4^ ^4 4 44^i 44 s]^^ 44-a^ ^^14^ ^ 44^ <^]^]^]o\] <^4o1 f^4 *> ffilS^^^i ^^^^1 ^^^4^^ 44.

P. 96. 15. The sooner he realized it, the better for- -wanted.

o-yy n.^^ 77}] P^^ ^0] 4H.T^ 4*T=-^ o.^ <^^^] 44 ^ T-^1 * 4 ^^ ^i #4. "=i *^ n^^l 4"^^ I2.7V ^^ 4 ^

19. the ordinary, mundane sort of father-and-son rela-

tionship i.-!-^ ^.l^^-^4 ^^1^ 22. a God-drunk man 44M'^1 ^Irlt 44

P. 97. 6. Don't you think, then, that he might have (exa-

mined himself) before the end? zl^ 4 1:^1- 4^1 ^1 4'^1 ^ -^<^1 44^ 4'^^4^i^^ls. 5-^4^ ^^44^1 ?-4^4?

P. 58. 6. take (a person) by surprise C<H 4 44l-)7l^t!: 4Ccome upon unawares) 44 e-4^1 44(astonish).

18

13. He won't have anything to do with it. 12.^ zl ^^] oi]

4-M ^1-^1 ^^^ ^ *14. C?i^ ^ ^] 4). He will have noth- ing to be with it. to have (anything, something) to do

with ^i 4-^1 al4.

P. 99. 2. That you might have something to tell him? P^

4? J That^ a. oVci\ so^ ^o]zl ^ ^^^4 '^^^1^ ^S ^n^- ^ ^, . so that may(might) -£] "§ -^ .

P. i(?i. 6. be guilty of-^ 5] 7]- aI4. (16 fx^ be innocent of-^1 S\7]- ^4>]- ^^.

12. speaking in human terms 'iL-tb-^^'lL ^4<=^l-^i h:"^1-<=^ . cf . in terms of-^ by means of, concerning, from the stand

point of^ ^.

^ij. He sees life in terms of money. a.-fe- "iL-^^-l: -&--S] ^;^1

6\\A\ icf,

P. 102. 10. I am guarding it (the truth). r4^ ^^(^-1}-)^ :^]7]JL $1 1 7] A. J run away from the truth t}^ ^S. ^} i^JL hide the truth from the othersS. <^>vl ji, zl :^^^^-%r ^1

P. 103. 3. has it ever occurred to you that ? 4^ ^S7-,H ^^^ ^i^] al^4? 'B'lJ, His name does not occur to me at present. zi-S] 6] -|-

^] ^1^ -3 44^1 ?^^4.

P. 105. 10. I might just so well not have been there, f^

7\ iL^^] ^<H5- ^ 4^i4^1^-i- ^<^14.J may (as) weU

i^^ij. We may as well begin at once, f-r-^l ^ ^ ^1 ^*fl 5. # I: ^^14.

J

P. /Off. 8. in respect to = as, with respect to <^] ^-sfl^i-fe-

19

P. m. 2. That's what it aU comes to. {il^ ^] ^] s.^ :^ 3\ ;tj4ol4. J come to = amount to. to-^ ^d^l ^>

18. If yon are as dead serious as I am<^1>| dead^ utterly,

absolutely-2] ^. M, dead tired, dead certain ; I'm dead

broke till next pay day.

P. 108. 11. I daresay = I dare say = probably

.

I^ij, This is the best of the kind I dare say.

12. give credit to ^ 4-§-*>4. (^^4. '^'^-^l ^-i:)~<M]7l] 1:^^-. credits belief, trust, good reputation, honor-£l ^.

22. No. ZL^s\ ^4-^6] -f^j-^o]^^ r^^^v|4.J-S. n^A

p. 109. 9. tarnish his beatific conscience ^4 ^1-^ ^o^^J^ ^-]^j*14.

24. His is the sort of conscience- -Ah, there we are. [o.

^ ''M-^ ^] -^^H: ^^A^i ^^^^ ^'^(^^>1 ^<H al^ ^^ ^^^ "^l^^^l^. 4-S. iir^^Hj

P. 110. 10. he is not the sort of shepherd- -the flock defe-

nseless. -L^ o]El 4^ ^i^-i: ^ '='o^^l-ir^ -^tij-til i]-Bl]^

p. Ii2. 3. Am I clear? ^fl "^^^^^1 <=>] ^UH -^7]- ? (= Am I clearly understood?)

4. The colonel was getting out beyond my depth, i^ ^ -^

Q^yy oj^^^M ^^y -^-t- ^v^^^) 4-1- ^^jcii 4-5.]:iL

P. 113. 1. Who elseCcan it be) but his god? [:i£] ilCW^ ^ ^ n^T-^ ^7}-? J Rhetorical question^ ^ij^^i f^^ zi:^

2. Can't you picture him on his knees, telling his god

what he has done? r^-y} ^*^ ^jl 4^1 7} «Sl]: ^^-i: #

20

4^^1 "t-^y^ ^°o^-|- ^M^l ^ ^^7]-? J picture = imagine. 5. 'To err is human, to forgive divine', f^^^ ^^^1 ^^ A14'=']-S-, -§-^i^^^#^ «h^<^14.J ^1 i^4^ Alexander

Pope C1688-1744, "^ ^ ^1 <y.)^ An Essay on Man (1733) ^ I, 2^] A.

7. I had to laugh in spite of myself 4:^ s.3.7\] -^^] ?>

P. ii4. 16. where on earth is heM a] on earthy ^^, -^

^j ^ "^MM. M, What on earth is the matter?

P. 115. 3. "Ah, hang your discretion!" r4^1^ ^ ^^<H "^ -i: ^'<\^} "^'IL^ ! J :i fl<^l^i I told him, at my discretion.

r^l ^UM-S- '^147]ia^^^4.j5^^ "^<^1 ^*J: ^4^0-. Oh,

hang it (all)! ^^*^ «fl -^ ^(swear)4^ ^^. 10. Have it transferred to CIC if it comes through. r4

44 A'd ^^^ (CIC)^ ^^ ^7\] . J come through^ J. -l-Pi^1]:4J, r^44J^ ^.

18. the firing squad #-^^-|r ^«|4^ 4^4. 26. The charges made against them- -in paiticular. a.-!:

6\] cn*v 3]^^ ^l^^-Ao_^ °^4^ S®<=1H 3i^d<H 'y:4'd

P. 116. 4. to figure out <=^I'^tt4. = solve, understand, asc-

ertain, i^]. Just figure it out yourself.

P. il7. 26. He tried to talk them out of it. o.^ zl^o]] ?]]

^^4 4^1 ^^4^ 4-^4 5^ fS4. to talk (a person) out of 4^1 e^s.-^ 4-^1]:4. 4^^1^J.4.

P. 118. II. I would appreciate it, if I do, sir. T^ll^'d, ^ 71- ZLl: ^ 44:ii ii^1]:43L ZL<Ml7ll ^i^ ^A]r^ 7j-44^

21

^*J^4«^r.J it^ if 10 :^^]% 1}^4. appreciate = feel gra-

teful for.

27. We'll beat it out of Mm^l -i beat = search

P. 119. 1. I decided to break the news. 4^ ^ ^4-^1: ^ •5-]- 7]^ ^1]1I4. break the nevrs to-'-S] news-^ ^-f- l)<l|g.

8. he hung up (the receiver). n^3]-7l -f- ^^4. 11. To go on with what I was telling you. P^^l'^^l^l ^1-^

12. I got to worrying about Mr. Shin. r4^ 4^1(^4)^1 rfl ^ 2^ -^ 4^1 4 4f. 4. 1 get to = begin

P. 220. 5. Ah, the lambs disfigured into a wailing mob!

r4, %:^t^ ^^^ ^% ^ € ^o^-l: ! J 9. That broke the spell. Yn.^c] n. 4^-|- :^:=^4.J (zl

P. 72/ 1. You seem to be in her confidence. zix^Ctb -n-4

HtHvi)^ 4---^lH ^4)1: 4s] 4^ ^ ^^^i^i^. P. 123. 2. it's all beyond me. 7^^-'^ ^ ^^ 44 ""^ ^ §^4.

J

= That's beyond my intelligence.

11. For all I know, ^j-n}...*^;;^]^ ^^4^ cf. For all I care. ^yy ^^ 4 41^4.

24. when he realized what the commandant was up to.

r4^4^l -T-"^^ 45^^^V-t ::3^4 %^aJ:-|- 4_.o^]^^ up to= about to do, 6] ^o\] capable of doing, engaged in, occupied

with ^^ ^o] <5l-i-. cf. P. 135. 7, P. 140, 12, -^J, He is not up to his job. What have you been up to?

P. 124. 3. get around to ^^1 %V^4.

P. 125. 7. So does Captain Park^ Captain Park also wants

to know the truth about the execution-S] ^.

P. 126. 18. you have my word, i+l "^^-1-^4. one's word =

22

one s promise

M, I have his word for it that she is very clever.

P. 127. 13. That's that! n^A^ n^^fK^]-. .= That is settled. Cor decided).

P. 129. 20. cluck-clucked !^7l^J*14. (ovu ^-. ^^.jo] ^

P. 136. 1. It is very like him that he should vrant to efface

himself. 0.7}- 441- °fl ^-^V^l ^ ^*>4^ ^-^^ zlo] ^j- 4. efface oneself 44^ °l]^c]-^J:4. (3.^=^11 ^i) ^5^44.

4. The living- -ultimate victory. ^^^} 31^ 4%^^;^ ^^ ^M^''] ^^JL44^-ir4 ^-^4<^J. ^5-]*-f4^^i^ 4

9. (The established fact) needs only to be made public

to render full justice to their heroism and saintliness.

Cn. ^^^^ 44-?r) 3-^4 ^-^4<^l:iL ^j^41- ^5411: ^j

4^M] ^447] 41^4 ^a4 7l4 t\^ ^4. make public ^3.44. do (render) to a person (or thing) =do a person

Cor thing) justice. 4<^-&l 4^^^ ^-€r 4^J4^ 45K-£^ 41:)-i: ^J ^^^Ml ^ ^*>4.

12. testify to---4 -n-5]4: ^4-|- 44. cf. testify against- ••<^^]

^5-14: ^4^ 44. P. 132. 14. it was beginning to look-- -on North Korean soil.

-^4 4<H14 ^^^'^l ^^^A^^-l 44-1: '^'^^ ^5^-1: -fs-l 7V 7I

i^H^4 ^ ^4^j i^l^l 4 4li4. P. 133.13. he said to no one in particular <H 4 ^^J4 44

o\] ^4 ^s- 4hi "^^4- ^4. P.134.2o. out of the square filed a silent procession of

people. ZL 4-4A^-fE^ 44"^^ ^4-4 %« ^4"^! ^^4*1 4. file = move in a line

23

P. 135. 15. His hands cut the cold air several times. C^A^l

17. "till we meet again beyond the River Jordan-' T-^^ 7j- 7lv\7Y ni-4e]J 71-s-iL ;L^^7^ 505^j- T^^^i^ ^i l]--€r ^J(There"s a Land That is Fairer Than Day)^ ^^ '^^-^.

P. 136. 5. I am deeply touched by it as you all must be. <^

^^ R.^7]- 70-^515^.-1: ^x^Bj 4:^ ZL^Cthe revival -f^ 3-1)011 i4- ^0-^^ 1>aJ:4.

18. Inscrutable shall ever be the holy will of our Lord.

r^Uo^ y]^€y ^^ c^,fl4 ^l^t*^ ^ ^£.4. J ilJS?E^^ ttJ-M. inscrutable = impenetrable, mysterious.

P. 137. 8. Certainly not. =1 certainly would not mind.

P. 140. 10. you and I are in the same trade. <^Hi trade

=

occupation, calling.

18. You must be out of your mind. I warn you to behave

yourself, u] -^ ^j 40] ^7^ i^j^ol ^4. ^^-f-oi] ^4^. P. 141. 17. cut in = interrupt ^^2] ^^-^ 7|-^^<H "t^^^.

P. 143. 5. the Secretary of Defense m^M'^. Clt-^^^l ^i t minister of Defense^ ^4.)

25. Bloody fool = Damned fool

P. 145. 13. But that there were betrayers I knew for certain

prior to the capture of Major Jung, ai] ^\::^}7]- Sli m 4^ ^ ^ 4^ ^j J^a)-^ ^li <=14<Ml ^^^^ <^^^4.

P. 146. 24. beyond question = past question = without question =

certainly, undoubtedly cf. cut of the question = impossible,

not to be considered

P. 148. 5. Colonel Chang brought his fist down on the desk.

^J- ^^^ ^"^ A-g. 7^ ^o^-i: ^ 4. 15. give the Reds an upper hand. <HMi an upper hand = sup-

24

remacy.

22. the inhuman practices of the Reds -e7^<il-i:^ ^] 'IL^

^'tI ^l-rl practice = performance, habit.

P. 150. 9. the heart of the matter 4^^ ^ ^J

.

P. 151. 24. It is imperative = it is essential (authoritative, per-

emptory), It is imperative that- • -(should)- -"^l^i that|5-£l

should 7}- ^3 ^1=5] ^ ^ 7}- ^4. It is imperative that vve (should) act at once.

P. 156. 6. I'm not much for mysteries. v}-i- iL^ltt '^l '^V'^l

^ ^^ ^0}^}^] ?>^4. for = in favor of, approving, supporting.

P. 157. 24. "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me!" cf. 4^ (Matthew) 4-^, XXVn.46, T^^l #4^^, 4-^1 t} 4^, H^ltH 4-1: ^-1^.4-^1 4?

J

P.15S. 26. He let go of my arm. n^ ^^ -^^ ^4 ^5^4. P. 161. 12. get down to i-§-*l ^1^^*14.

P. 162. 4. I was touched by his confiding in me. 4^ —4 4<Hl7i] 47]^ til ^^4- ^^4^r^l 7j-^«^4. confide = put trust (in someone), share secrets or discuss private affairs.

9. his plans for carrying out the project that went with

it. ^^4 ^^54^ y]^^ 4^^ ^1^'. 25. We'U pull out. -f^l %4^*^ ^<^14.

P. 163. 22. the Father, and the Son, the Holy Ghost.

m^, ^iF, mm.

p. 166. 1. I am taking the liberty of assuming that you wiU do me this favor. 4-^ 4vi] 7]- 4^ -^^^-i" 1:<H % ^i: ^ ^'^-^ 4^J4'--11. cf. May I take the liberty of calling on you?

5. in person = in one's own (proper) person. 4'i'^]» -^^i^.

17. onr cell -f^l y^^}.

20. some sort of teleological question g ii^Om^-J ^^1

.

21. an eschatological question rt$^Jm&^ -5:^1

.

P. 173. 11. I don't give a damn, =1 don't care at all.

27. I will hang onto my truth and will not compromise it.

4^ ^ -14^ olp]4^14 JL^tyjL a.^-1- ^^^7\] *M

P. /74. 7. At least you are committed to that stubbornness.

^A<^S. 4''il ^ ^^^4: 7M^^ ^bV5]^4^ 24. We are all up to our necks in our bloody doings. ^

s-1^ ^J:<=J.1t -^^-l- '='1^1 ^i^ ?#<^1 Si 4.

P. 176. 6. CJod only knows. oj-vl^Jnlo] 01-4^ ^l^S. 5.^4.

P. i7P. 13. not for this establishment. 0] 7] 4:^ ^^^i J-^

P. 183. 24. Colonel Chang was impervious to my sarcasm.

^J- >^ ^ ^ ^ 4 H 22.^ -Jro^l A^l ^-^o] ^ 4. P. 185. 14. out of hand= unruly.

15. I lost no time calling up a detail of guards. 4^ '^ * ^^1^1 ^JL ^^^£-] ^^^^4^ 1-^4.

P.m. 13. Get him! = Capture him! P. 187. 13. one of them flung back, zl^ 444 "t^^l^^. P. 190. 17. GVIr. Shin would be) very much present. 444

^] 3.7\] %-^^ ^ <^1 4.

p. iP2. 11. Where do they get this abiUty, even liking, for

suffering? jl^^ ^jl n.:i-%: 7]^o] ^v^ ^= %l^-5^^ -1: ^1:^ -Ht^^i ^^ ^i*^4?

16. Shintoist Q ;^^ #;I-fr ^it 4^^^.

15. Is that all?" -you name them, f^^ ^"^^14? J ^4 °^

26

mmm, ^It^K ^1^5., y]-^} ^^yl ^l^-l: ^1 ^ al-^ <H

p. 194. 9. Bare yonr hearts. 4^-sl ^-1: <^ ^1 -^.

15. Not a soul stirred. *> 4%i-^ .2-^ ^^-^l^l $e%!:4.

P.m. 13. Away with yon! yl^ \ , i^^H P. 197. 10. The ministers were offered, in turn, a promise

that n. rH4 ^xv-t-^ ...^ ot^c^ ^]c^ =. «^voV4^

P. 198. 26. Hallowed be their names! = May their names be

hallowed, n^^ ^1 -1-^ -^^^H #-i-^^i. P. 199. 3. the Kingdom of God Oleaven) ^^. P. 204. 5. I shall have to be incognito, vf^ 4^^ ^^ ^>

& ^<^1^-. incognito = with true identity unrevealed or dis- gxiised.

P.W5. 2. Mr. Shin was conducting- -fulsomely. Efa^xi^ ^l

^£\ ^^S\^ <^dS-#3L alai^^l ^1tij- ^1-&^<^1 11:^-1- ^1 4^1711 i^^l-^4.

8. it was merely an extention of the service- -Mr. Shin's

own church, o.^-^ ^y} 4l -^4 4''d^1 ^^1<^1 %^-ilS^

iL (^5.) ^]^^ ^^M 4 4^1 ?i<^.^4. 23. the Army, -the memorial service. -^^ Sl^ A^ s^ o.

^j^l y^^^y} n. ^^ c^]^^s\ ^5]4^^i *1-1-^ H^-^i^ 4^4.

P. 2195. 2. I might have added that -that subject. 4^ ^4 ^^^] ZL ^4^ 4^5-1 ;^-l ?>711: 7^:4*^4^ ^-i: -^^^1 ^^^] ^aJ:^i4^ 7l^ ^^4*<^1 ^^^ -irsl^i^^l ^•^47>

P. 297. 10. they gave what they could, n*-^ zlIto] ^ ^ al^ i-& ^-i: ^^4. what^ as much (many) as s\ ^, M, Lend me what money Gxwks) you can.

27

P. 208. 13. He was not allowed access to classified infor-

mation. 3.^ til^y. :^^^6\] :q^^^ ^*>o] ^6]:,^ o|;,] t5l4. P. 210. 14. the elders gathered quite a few people, ^^h^^

<=1 'l^^^-5-l ?i4- 4%^^^ -^%t4. quite a few = a good few, some few, a fair number of.

P. 214. 10. That's when the young minister broke down, ^j-

^ ZL^ f^-^ -^4(^^®)7V ^1 ^j4^ |^5d4.break down = collapse, give way.

P. 217. 1, In due course ^^}% ^^^ IJ-^^^, «^1 4 ^H-^i 10. Meanwhile the enraged-"mass demonstrations. 3.&1^

7] 4l*fl^i TlB-l H. ^o>^ v]-^4.

11. take to = go to

P. 218. 3. impassioned calls to arms ^^=^1 jL^tt]-^^ |gpj|-.

P. 221. 9. The lieutenant in charge ^-^} ^C^)4l. the min-

ister (teacher) in charge ^"^^ -n-^C^^^J ^4). 14. It's heavily patrolled. il^(:e.^)-^ 4l-'^i^tl-7ll y^^]s\

^ ?a4. 23. "• -though we live- -strongholds- ••" of. U'^^^j^^ ^'^:e.

'^mC H Corinthians) lO^o^ 3, 44 P. 222. 1. Sabotage by the guerrillas. Blew up our train.

3. Rather hectic on the front, ^d^d^ ^ ^5^ 4^1-14. P. 223. 8. *Why are not times of- - for want of shelter- •"

of. i^4^i^-l ^7] Gob) 24;f 1-84

24. "---among the olive rows--- their prayer." Iw|24^ch 11,

124

P. 224. 9. "•• and the Lord Said to Job : Shall a faultfinder

contend with the Almighty? ^7] ji^^ 24'=>il-^i "man'o]

faultfinder^ t^H^H^-l-.

11. Then Job answered the Lord : Behold, I am- -a voice

like His?' -i-7] 40^j- 2-9^^.

20. Then Job answered the Lord••• and repent in dust

and ashes.' 4-^1 42^^- 1—6li.

P. 230. 11. Will yon see to it that- too late? 4y]- ^^ ^

23. I thought it was abont time I came to see you. ^^1

-f «> Bi t.L.4 ^eJ,

-I- «fl 7}- 5| ^^_^JL ^i --i-iS^.

P. 232. 13. from the air base--- the northern sky. a. ^^

P. 235. 24. It has survived the war so far. ^^^t ^ ^^^4 n^ ^d^3"i: '^1 -H-J15. ZLcfl-?- ^-'^}- '.14. so far = up to now

P. 238. 25. Excellent !••• my Chinese. ^laL^V, o]^v]. ^.^ ^ ^^^1. 4-^i Mil- Si-^l C^^ i^^-i-) ^ ^<H . '^J.^i -fBl7V^ o> ^v oj^ 7145.]^ ^Tr:<^14. 4^ ^ ^^<Hlr ^^ 41-

P. 240. 8. a general practitioner ^1 ^1 3^-^ ^i> dUK. 17. I couldn't do a damn thing on the line. r4^ e^d ^M-^l^d ^d^o^, 4^ ''IS- ^iX^.A^y]^-] line^ frontline -1: ^^^. line-^ Sl telephone lineal ^5. :^

.

P. 241. 10. They keep following to catch up with us. n.

-i:C3tl4Hl>l ^^ 4-^llr ^4s]-A^14 4-^14 ^i^ "g:^! ^-^tV^^ iL-&^ 4-e-ll- 444- ^4 ^4.

P. 242. 9. I noticed our troops were digging in. 4^ -r-^] ^'^4 %^^ 4-b ^-1- ial:4.

11. it was reassuring to see them in position. /|^pf4^ oj^ ^^^ _y_u] oj-<iol s]^, 4. position-gr P'F-ilii.

14. excused himself 45^1*1:4^1 °^t]-3. y\ *|^4.

29

16. you intelligence people ^}Al^^] ^j^:^]-!- -^}^^

27. You've had your share. ^}^ls. «>^5Si^5^. Cr^l:^--]^

P. 243. 12. run into = meet by chance

18. Free of charge -f-^^

P. 244. 3. take = assume as a fact

0|J, I take it that you will be there.

P. 260. 17. Well, I didn't mean to keep you up. ^Kl. ^

P. 262. 10. anything but cheerful = not cheerful at all, far

from being cheerful

15. took my temperature vfl ^l-$r-|- ^>I5a4- P.268. 8. * The Lord is my rock encompassed me.--'

cf. ^1^ 18^J- 2, 3, it^ "-^'l ^^ ^ ^. P. 279. 23. hoping that he would see me if no one else. t>}

% 4%^^ Hh ^i^i4 *i^]4^ 4^i^ -^4^ ^^ 44^-i 25. obliged me by informing Mr. Shin of my visit. 4 4 C^4>1^1 ^4 t4 ^ ^^ "^^^ ^-e ^J.%-i: 4^]^1 «il 1-'=^ ^m4. oblige = favor

P. 285. 23. I must go on with the service. 4^ ^=^1*^11-1: 4.^J ^1^45!l^.

P. ^8. 1. That's the way my superiors figure. :i^*l 4 4^^'^1 ^3 44-^ 4^=^1-4- figure = reckon

P. 297. 15. Pyongyang is a mess. ^ 4-cr 4-44'='l 4. mess =

disorder, confusion

P. 302. 20. Our bombers did a thorough job on Pyongyang.

5^ -f^i40 P.SJ5.14. a revolving lantern. ^MM

30

p. 8. 9. Empedocles 490?—430? B. C. zls-]^^ %^M, ^J^l 7K Etna lU^ ^^-^o\] -=--8: Ri^i ^^4^ ^4<^] al^.

P. 189. 16. A second later, we heard the faint, broken voice: "No- • -God- • -No- -God--' ^\-^ ^7^ ^-e]^ r^^-^^-'-

P. 194. 11. He had stressed-" •I- ••I-' O-^ "i+'s^^ ^^^\

^i-T- -J-fr ^-H ^^^^7] r^^6[] ^-^ ^^J^ 7f^l ^5] ^ -¥-4 IB]^ r4j2]-^ "^-s. ^^y^U] pilc]-5-]^4. ^e-l3L O.

^]^ 4^^4.

P. i55. 5. but gradually it began to bestir itself; ~l^ 4 44 s\^^ ^^A^]7] ^14114.

26. taking everyone by surprise i.-f-^ ^^4 e"47ll 4H surprise = astonishment

P. 203. 10. The notion would never occur to me. zlb^ ^g zv

23. You would rather- your suffering. 4^11^ 4^^1 4 fif

44 4^4 4^ ^-^-l- 4^1 i ^ ^4. P. 204. 12. I reflected-after all. 4^ 3]^^ 4^-1:^ Ht

^4^ ^^ ^t^4. ^ ^^<^1^ 1^71 i- 4^<^] i-f- ^ B-1 4 -i-i4 ^1 ^^^ l[ltl: ^:3-4^1 4-§-5S-^4, <^1 i-& ^^ ^-^ 12.1:01 #h|^^e].- :5j^ ^gJi^^i^ ^4 ti]-oil 51^1 ?lal:4.

13. I had been tricked into-Uttle game, 4^ <*^^^1 4 :n. ^4 Tiloi-i- tv^4.

31

P. 206. 16. We were also- -become apparent, -r-^l^ %n^7|-

P. 225. 20. the return of a prodigal son ^i^^l ^^. cf. ^ ^KLuiie) 4^ 5^j- 11-32^^

P. 227. 11. Job -i--^ ^1^>V<^1 :2^ftA-g- #^ ^A^] °a^4. -^ ^^ :n-\l^ %JL :^ti Ji^ S^^ ^3%-^ ^^-^^i^] MM ^^^]JL Si 4.

P. 242. 12. Lots of guns are out there. I guess we will

make a stand. :^7]^ S.^o] ^'^] 4^ aI4. -f^^^-l^j- ^^ ^A^ ^^-|-1]:4.

P. 2^7. 17. You see, life goes on. O-^ s]-A. (oj ^ ^d^3 -1-

P. 248. 12. G-2 ^-^ -^-^ril

17. As of 6 P. M. ^^ 7^^] ^^fl ^ P. 2^. 8. We are supposed to stick it out until the last

minute, -f 5-1 ^3] 41^^ ^^^14^1 tH^l7l^s]<H =J.4. 11. Whatever information we can squeeze out of enemy

agents. M^ M^^]^,-"^ 4^ ^ alt it ^Ji P. 250. 16. once-Uberated city "l^ ^^}^^^i S-4C^<=o^) P. 25i. 3. half a dozen boxes of field rations (^ ^, ^o^4^

8. and the like tt P. 252. 2. a contingent a transcient field hospital. Ȥ

^^^^ 7fli47i ^1--|^4. 23. you were running a fever. ^^iL-cr "==>] ^1 n^s] :5i $1$^

4.

32

P. 255. 10. they were butchered for no good reason, n.^-^

P. 25<?. 17. The illusion of life beyond the grave ^^i ^v\

19. Despair is the disease- •• ^J^J--^ -f--^°l'^J: ^^--5-^ y]-^-

P. 257. 6. bear your own cross ^J- v 44-2] ^^44-1: 44. . 9. Those are the ones who need Christ, n.^ C^±.^ ^J 4 4* ^4 ^ Si^ 4^^-i:)<='14 -^-=- -5-l^:L7f 4^^J: 4%^- -i:'^14.

11. the resurrection of the flesh ^^1^ ^% P. 259. 8. We don't even seem to have a front ^A^ ^

16. checked my pulse °-^^ M-H -«-a5:4. P. 260. 23. I thought you were up. v|-^ t^I-^o] r'\o\ a),^^

P. 264. 19. one of those death marches n. tl-vf^l ^-%-^ «5

P. 2155. 12. She blamed the loss of our child on herself, n.

M^ -f^1^ 4'='1* 1^^ ^-i: 4^1 4a^ 1:^4. blame = lay the responsibility of

M, We cannot blame the accident upon him. P. 266. 1. a maddening truth coming from a servant of

God. 44^^ K^4)^ ''^o\]^] 4-2-^ °lt ^l> ^i4 10. at one fatal stroke ^1'^^-^'lL e}-^a^ 44-cr Ml «!

^^oj ^^nvo] «H^J-i: ^^4.

P. 267 4. I left to be in his presence. 4^ ^ 4t-i: 44 ^1- ^y] ^n 4^1 4^-i'^l ^B]^ :5j^^ 4 ^4^^

33

JoLsl^ ^4. as if -^ C^zif]^ '^^-i-. 7. there hardly was room to move. -b-I: -5-^ '^^ 4^1 5- "^

P. 2lff5. 1. Yon can't afford to get sick now. ^1^-^ <^]-4

^^ "T^] ^A^ 4 7]- 4^-14.

cf. I cannot afford holidays. He cannot afford (to keep^

a car. I cannot afford the loss of a single hour.

P. 271. 20. except give him some sedatives and a vitamin

shot. n.^]7\] ^^^^1^1 ^14^,1 ^41: ^^ ^ ^=^1 22. TB. -Tuberculosis ^ t^

P. 272. 20. I didn't mean to walk out on your service, t:^

4<='l '^]A^^ s-^'^d 44 ^^ ^^4-^ ^,'d-a-^14. P. 273. 12. My despair was my people. 4 44'^! 4^.

19. The village in three months; n. 44^^ ^^4 S.^ 4: ^i^L 4^4^!-^ H4^44 ^ 4"-1^14 4:-d^l 444 5i 4. raze a town to the ground S.^] -f: 444 44 4:4-

P. 274. 1. Men cannot endure- -in the Kingdom of God. 4.

-^il^ 4^ =^1*4 ^.4:iL *i 4 ^^A4 44 4-t- ^s. ^4 4— ^^444 4^ <H4 * 4^4, ^^14, 44-4 ^^^114 44 4 44 ill-[i4 7l4<^1 ^44, 4^j-ir-^ ^^-i:

15. an advanced stage of tuberculosis ^^1444 ^4 4"nl P. 283. 2. Down with the Chinese Communists! -f"^^ h]-

5. ! Down with -1: 4S-44.

M, Dov/n with the tyrant!

3. Long Live the Republic of Korea! ':}14:4^ 44 !

34

5. Pyongyang Federation of Labor ^ °^ ic^ :5l^. 6. Anti-Communist Youth Association «]:^ ^^^Rt.

P. 290. 11. phosphorescent JM^^ P. 292. 22. scrounge up = take something without permission

P. 296. 7. AureKus' Meditations Marcus AureliusC121—180)

^^\s\ ^^. ^^0} ^y3\s\ %tv^v. {m^^M}^ m^' p. 297. 15. It has become a Chinatown. ^ ^^^ ^^^J.^ 2-

^l7f£ljL -^C;14. C^^^-^-l -i^li7] «fl^0ll)

p. 301. 11. So-called peoples' trials. ^^ "iL^I^ll^J:. P. 308. 3. off and on = now and then, irregularly, intermit-

tingly, irregularly.

M, It has been raining off and on.

P. 309. 17. -ordered to execute -his battalion, n.^ tflrfl

m.^ ^^^\^^ ^^^ i>jL- 21. superbly demonstrating" of strength. ^A^ I^flrfltl]^

?a^ ;.j.dl^ t]-4s. 's^^J^o] x^^^ 4^]^ o]-^ i;.J^?11 -^v

P. 3i2. 9. But they all •• every single detail. What do you

make of that? zl&14 ^"1: -2.-^7}- 3.^0] ^^v^jl ^^^^\

t iL 45}-^ ^AA\% 4-^4^1 47]- "^4^ ^-^(4 -^4)^

13. Could it be that the Communists have been sort of

dragging him around? ^4^^1 4-i:<^l °^^]-4't ^ ^-1: ^jL 44 ^.<5l <^l-^4-S-? sort of 47J:, 'y:44'd

P. 3i5. 3. So it was that- So^ ^J^^^V ^.

35

25. How long, I wondered its promise? «^^^ S^A-S.5.

^44 ^^l -1-0]- AlB^^^ n.^^]7i] ^4<^ At -a-^Jl:- #4t cdx]- oj-oiix-^, s t|-4t c^xv u-1t>| ^^\a\ ah, 7^1-

*. 316. 17. the open sea ^^l^] 3.^-1 ^l^-.

19. in unison i ^^A e.

19. a song of homage to their homeland n.^-^ 3l'^<^] ^

^7j-4>As. 7|-n^5]t zx^7v 459^J- r<^^tH ^HJ'^^ ^<y.

20. And with a wondrous lightness- •• a. B-JjL ;^o]] ^o] ^l^yl

^-t- 'i^ 7H^ 4-i--2.-= M-t o.^ x|.oi<Hi 7^15^4.

THE MARTYRED

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ih

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