That Sunday morning was like any other Sunday morning. Everyone in the house slept in. Sonju awoke to loud, frenzied words coming from the inner courtyard and fast moving toward the anteroom. “A war! A war! North Koreans are coming!” a male voice repeated.
Sonju bolted up. “What?” Her husband kicked off the blanket, got up, and dashed to the living room, almost slipping in his haste. Sonju followed. Within a minute, everyone converged in the anteroom.
A Big House servant, out of breath and moving his arms wildly, shouted, “They attacked us early this morning!”
Father-in-Law asked calmly, “Tell me. Where did the news come from?”
“A telegram from Seoul. From my master’s elder son. My master sent me here.”
Second Sister came over to Sonju and whispered. “A war? I don’t believe it.”
When she was living in Seoul, Sonju knew from reading the newspapers that there were guerrilla skirmishes ever since 1945 when the line was drawn along the 38th parallel but they had never amounted to much. The nation was more tuned into Syngman Rhee’s constant anti-communist rhetoric and his opposition to divided Korea. It was public knowledge that he wanted to lead one unified Korea, but so did Kim Ilsung of the North. So, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone that a war would happen. But it was. A war! Seoul was only forty-eight kilometers away from the North. Her lips quivered. She pressed her mouth with her balled hand.
Brother-in-Law went to the Big House to read the telegram himself. When he returned, he told the family that the telegram was dated 1950 June 25 and it read that at four in the morning, North Korean troops had indeed invaded South Korea.
So, it was real. Jinju was staring back and forth at her mother and her father. Even the one-year-old child seemed to know something was happening. Sonju strapped Jinju on her back and went to the kitchen. It wouldn’t take long for the North Korean troops to reach Seoul. A day or two if they were not stopped. She had never witnessed a war because Japan fought elsewhere, not on Korean soil, but she knew what a war looked like. She had seen photographs of the Second World War in Life magazine. All her relatives lived in Seoul. Where would her family go to get out of enemy’s way? What about Kungu and his mother? Did they have a safe place to go?
Second Sister was asking, “What do we do? My younger brother is an officer. He will be in the war. My family may not even have heard the news.” She scrunched her face and said in an anguished voice, “If only I could go see them now.”
All afternoon and evening, everyone in the house, even the children, talked little, and when they did talk, their voices were tight and subdued. Sonju was, at times, lost in thought and when she caught herself, she noticed others in the house moving with unusual rigidity with hesitant steps. Their unfocused, anxious eyes glanced around, not looking at anything in particular.
That night on the yo, Sonju clung to her husband, glad that he was home and not in Pusan. “How long would you and your brother stay?”
“It depends on how things go.”
“Would you please go to the train station tomorrow morning and find out if the station master has any information about the war?” she asked. “And what the people on the train say to him?”
The next day, he went to the station and learned that the enemy force was advancing toward Seoul. A day after that, he relayed that the South Korean army bombed the Han River Bridge in Seoul early in the morning to stop the North from advancing farther. The following day, on June 28, three days after the invasion, he told her Seoul had fallen.
“Seoul fell? Seoul fell. My family …” Sonju could feel her heart pound. All kinds of thoughts and images of her family caught in the mayhem and destruction flashed in her mind. She grabbed Jinju from a maid and held her close to her bosom hiding her eyes from her daughter not to show her fear, and paced the room.
Her husband left her to join his father and brother at the men’s quarters, and shortly afterwards, she saw her mother-in-law’s hefty hips swinging toward the men’s quarters as well. Frantic, she strapped Jinju on her back, and crossing the inner courtyard, heard a crash coming from the kitchen. Jinju whimpered, grasping at Sonju’s hair.
While picking up shattered porcelain pieces, Second Sister was talking to herself about the enemy passing by her father’s house if the North was not stopped soon. Sonju was occupied with her own thoughts too. Seoul had fallen. What did it mean? Did the enemy destroy all the buildings and houses? Did they kill everyone in sight? A picture rose in her mind as real as if she could touch it—thick lines of enemy soldiers advancing street by street, house by house, fighting. And her frightened family scurrying around, even caught in a crossfire. She saw Second Sister pick up a pot, carry it around the kitchen, and lay it down in another spot.
That afternoon, Father-in-Law had everyone assemble in the inner courtyard. “The war may come this way. It could be soon.” He turned to field hands, servants, and maids. “Leave tomorrow morning. And, each of you, take as much rice as you can carry to your family. I will let you know when it is safe for you to return.” To the old servant who didn’t have a family and was over fifty, he said, “You will remain here with me and my wife. The enemy soldiers won’t bother old people.”
To Sonju and Second Sister he said, “Take your children to my daughter’s house in Daejon. I had a telegram sent to her. She can accommodate all of you. You will be safer there than here since it is further south. Surely the war will end before it reaches Daejon.” He turned to his sons. “You will start for Pusan the day after tomorrow just in case the government starts drafting men.
“You haven’t mentioned me,” Jinwon said.
“You will go to your grandmother’s family home.” Jinwon dropped her jaw and shot her eyelids up at her grandfather, but seeing his stern eyes, she went to her room and slammed the door shut.
The field hands and maids left the next morning, each carrying rice and clothing. Sonju’s husband, Brother-in-Law, and the old servant dug holes along the junipers and sunk six large, glazed clay pots. In them, they stored linens, silver, antiques, and grain. They sealed the lids and concealed them with dirt then transplanted flowering plants on top and covered the soil with old leaves. That evening after Jinju fell asleep, Sonju helped her husband pack, sniffling and wiping her tears.
Early the next morning, they watched the train nearing the station. Sonju’s husband put the suitcases down on the ground to pick up Jinju. “Say bye-bye to Daddy.” Sonju felt her tears gather in her eyes. When Brother-in-Law stepped up to the crowded train and waved at his family, Sonju’s husband handed Jinju to Sonju, picked up his suitcases, and boarded the packed car. Once on the train, he and his brother put their heads out the window and waved. The train moved. Sonju, Second Sister, and the children waved until the train shrank to the size of a toy.
In the early afternoon, handing her bags to the servant, Jinwon said, “Grandma, I’ve never met those people. What am I going to do there?”
“Those people are my brother’s family. You will be safe there. If his house were big enough, your aunts and cousins would be going there too.”
“You said it’s a small, small, remote village with hills and mountains. Do tigers come out there?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, you would have a better chance with them than with enemy soldiers with guns.”
Jinwon, her lower lip sticking out, left with the servant, dragging her feet and glancing back.
The next day, in the mid-morning, Sonju, Second Sister, and their four children went to the station. As the train pulled up, they saw people already jammed in the cars, spilling out onto the steps, and clinging to the roofs. Sonju and Second Sister held their children close, squeezed up the steps of the train into the car, and threaded through packed bodies and bags. Then circling their children, they pushed out to make room for the children to breathe while inching toward their seats, only to find they were occupied by the people with standing-room-only tickets. They refused to yield. The other passengers shouted, “Give them the seats. They have the tickets.” The squatters ignored them and looked to the open window. A passenger said, “What nerve. So you’ll have these young children squished while you’re sitting on their seats?” Then one burly man standing next to the bench said, “If you don’t get up now, I’ll pick you up one by one and throw you out the window.” The squatters got up, stealing glances at the threatening man. Sonju and Second Sister squeezed onto one bench, with the two youngest children on their laps, and Chuljin and Jina between them.
The train left the station and sped by the adjoining town without stopping. It was passing along a bridge over a river when a woman shrieked. “Look, look! It’s a baby falling.” Gasps and cries came from the passengers. “What happened?” “A baby fell.” “Where?” Some people stretched their necks to look out. “From the roof of the car, right above us.” “I didn’t see.” “I saw.” Unceasing screams and wails from above.
Sonju pulled Jinju to her chest and felt Jinju’s heart beating wildly against her. She fought not to dwell on the images of the baby falling or its mother’s wailing. The train chugged on. Jina cried. Chuljin made faces at his sister. Second Sister tried to quiet them. Her third child, Jinjin, only two years old, unfazed by the surroundings, stared at her older siblings. Sonju put her arm around her five-year-old niece. “Jina, would you like me to tell you a story?”
Jina nodded, still crying.
“There was once a poor lady who raised three daughters. All her daughters married and moved away. She grew old and weak. She walked a long way to a large house with a tile roof. ‘My eldest, please take me in. I have not eaten all day.’” Jina’s crying trailed off. “The oldest daughter said, ‘I don’t know you. Go away!’ So, the old lady walked a distance to her second …” By that time, Jina fell asleep, trails of tears still wet on her cheeks.
Across from them, three women in Western clothes sat calmly with their erect postures and their folded hands on their laps. They gave the air of being walled off from fear, temper, horror, and the rising heat in the car. One of the women in a finely woven linen dress, the oldest of the three, perhaps in her late twenties, glanced at Jina’s sleeping face, and leaning forward, said to Sonju, “She must have been exhausted from her own fright. From your accent, I assume you are from Seoul.”
“I have family and friends there. I heard the bridge was bombed. Did everyone get out?”
“We had to pay a fortune to cross the Han River by boat this morning. The rower said he saw many floating bodies of civilians and soldiers who died while crossing the bridge during that bombing.” The woman asked, “Where does your family live?”
“North side, near the presidential complex.” The youngest of the three gasped and quickly covered her mouth with her hand, perhaps a helper, from the look of her hand.
With alarm, Sonju asked, “Was that area bombed?”
The woman’s voice was calm. “We don’t know. We live in the West Gate District.”
Sonju took a deep breath. The enemy might have razed the entire area where her parents lived. “Where are you evacuating to?”
“To Daejon. We will stay at a home of a friend of a friend. And you?”
“We have family in Daejon.”
“What school did you graduate from?” the woman asked.
“Ewha.”
The woman’s whole face lit up. “Me, too. What year?”
“1945”
“I am six years ahead of you so that’s why you don’t look familiar.” Sonju returned a smile to this handsome, friendly woman who exuded an air of confidence. The woman continued, “I don’t know how long this war will last but when it’s over, please visit us.” After a glance at her companions then at Sonju, she said, “We work together. Let me write down my name and address.” What kind of work, Sonju wondered then decided it didn’t matter and put the note in her skirt pocket.
When they reached Daejon, Sonju said goodbye to the women as they stepped off the train. People poured out, pushing and shoving into the already chaotic station. Evacuees milling around, shouts from left and right. “This way!” “What did you do with the bag?” Jumbled words, loud yelling, mothers calling for children, children crying for their mothers.
Bumping and being bumped on, Sonju and family waded through the crowd, constantly checking on each other for fear of being separated. They were thrust into the train plaza, where people dispersed in all directions, opening up room to breathe. “There,” Second Sister said with her chin pointing to a space near a concrete wall. After putting her luggage down, she tied Jinjin on her back in a sling, then held Chuljin with one hand and her luggage with the other. Sonju secured Jinju on her back, gripped Jina’s hand, and picked up her own luggage with her free hand.
Chuljin squawked, “Mommy, let go! You are holding too tight.” Second Sister yanked his squirming hand. “Hush. I don’t want to lose you.” She turned to Sonju, and looking unsure, said, “I have visited Sister-in-Law’s house only once.” What would they do if they were lost? Sonju wondered and felt anxious.
After walking a wide boulevard, turning one corner, then another, and marching on, they came to a large two-story building with a sign that read Kim Yunggi Internal Medicine. At the end of the building was a gate that led to a house behind the medical clinic. Second Sister announced, “Hello. We are here.”
Sister-in-Law came running to meet them. “I’m so glad you made it. Come in. How are my parents?”
“They’re fine. They are with the old servant.” Second Sister said while a maid came from the kitchen to collect their luggage.
Sonju undid the sling and let Jinju down. “Our husbands left for Pusan yesterday morning.”
Sister-in-Law looked at the four children in rumpled clothes, and turning toward the house, shouted, “Children, your aunts and cousins are here. Come out and greet them.”
Sister-in-Law’s children, all six of them, came out to the anteroom, lined up, gave a short quick bow to Second Sister and Sonju, and promptly disappeared into the rooms, acting as though they couldn’t be bothered. How long would they have to stay in Daejon? Sonju wondered and walked to the room where Sister-in-Law pointed.