Fourteen family members and two maids crowded Sister-in-Law’s five-bedroom house. Meals were served in two different parts of the living room, separated by gender.
Sister-in-Law and her husband didn’t own a radio, and Sonju thought they must be old-fashioned or tight with money, but then it might not have mattered. The radio stations might not be operating anyway. Newspapers were not delivered any longer, Sister-in-Law said when Sonju asked about it. Sonju was anxious to hear the news of the war. Finally, on the third day of the evacuation, Sister-in-Law’s husband sat cross-legged and cleared his throat. “One of the refugees from Seoul brought his old mother who had dysentery. He told me the president and his administration set up the government in Pusan two days after the war broke out. I didn’t know.”
Leaning forward, Sonju asked, “What else did you hear?”
“American troops from Japan landed in Pusan on July 1st, then moved north to stop the enemy from advancing farther south.”
Second Sister turned to Sonju. “Maybe we can go home very soon.”
Ignoring Second Sister, Sonju asked again, “Where are the North Koreans?”
“I don’t know,” Sister-in-Law’s husband said.
In early July, he told the family, “Today I learned that North Korean troops won a battle in Osan two days ago. The battle is moving south.”
Sonju’s shoulders dropped and she watched Second Sister’s hands fly to her chest. She asked, “How far is Osan from here?”
“Eighty kilometers,” he said.
At the water pump, Sonju said to Second Sister, “We would’ve been better off staying in Maari. The fighting will come here. This is a major city and a connecting point to Taegu.”
“What do we do now?” Second Sister’s face crumbled. “I wonder how our husbands are doing in Pusan. We should have gone there. We should go there now.”
Sister-in-Law was on her way to the kitchen and must have overheard them. In an unusually sharp voice she said, “You can’t leave now. How do you possibly do that with all the children? And leave my husband’s practice? You are better off here”
She was right, Sonju realized. Every day Sister-in-Law’s husband came home smelling iodine and exhausted from treating people with infections, dysentery, typhoid, smallpox, diphtheria, and tuberculosis. Some of his patients stayed in the patients’ rooms upstairs of the clinic for a few days or longer and once in a while from the work area, Sonju could hear a series of retching coughs and painful moaning sounds. It was worse yet when a patient died and waves of wailings traveled through the house. They couldn’t leave now. If they did, they might catch something on the way with so many contagious diseases that seemed to be going around. At least here, they had a doctor in the house.
All throughout the day, Sonju strained her ears to listen for any battle sounds coming near. The war had to end soon. Every day now they were eating rice with thin soup of dried pollack, and on the side, pickled daikon radishes. If they had stayed in Maari, they would be eating plenty of fresh vegetables, all the rice they could eat, and chicken or pork.
Sonju decided to take a chance on getting better food. Carrying Jinju on her back, she ventured into a street market where a few merchants displayed whatever they had to sell on their little wooden wagons. Some sold used items like clothes, pots and pans. Probably they once belonged to refugees. She couldn’t find fresh vegetables anywhere. She bought four bags of dried radish strips instead. By chance, she overheard people say how some South Korean soldiers gunned down a large number of North Korean sympathizers and dumped them into mass graves. Sonju gasped at the shocking brutality of it. The world was going mad. She hurried home. She didn’t go to the market again.
About two weeks into their evacuation, they were in the courtyard and heard a barrage of gunshots piercing the air, and the sound of one explosion after another coming from some distance, reverberating through the house. Sonju’s heart jumped then pounded. Her breaths came out in bursts. She grabbed Jinju in a tight hold and while running, ducking, and wincing, she saw Chuljin and Jina running to their mother screaming. They all fumbled toward their room. At every frenzied staccato sound of gunfire and every loud explosion, they scrambled and huddled together in a corner of their room, pressing their ears and shutting their eyes. Jina and Jinju, and even Jinjin cried and flinched every time there was an explosion somewhere near.
Sonju had to calm the children somehow. “Children, let’s sing,” she said and started singing, “Twinkle, twinkle little star—” Second Sister sang along and the children followed, swallowing their sobs.
At every gunshot and explosion, their bodies lurched and shrank in a tighter pile. “Twinkle, twinkle—” Sonju urged on. They might die, she thought.
It went on in this way for days. In between the battle sounds, two maids brought food to their room on trays, and they ate exchanging nervous glances. Then during quiet moments, Sonju pictured the faces of her family, her parents-in-law, Kungu, and Misu. She wondered how many of them she would see again.
“Twinkle, twinkle—” Children sang on their own now, more loudly during the battle noises. As the explosions came one after another, shaking the earth and everything on it, they stopped singing and nestled in a pile near the wall. Second Sister said with a broken voice, “My younger brother might be fighting here.”
Kungu might be too. He might die. Sonju felt as though all the blood would squeeze out of her heart. She wrapped her daughter in her arms. How could anyone survive this?
Second Sister was wringing her hands. “They must have come through my father’s village.” She wrapped her head with her arms and said under her breath, “I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it.”
Loud whizzing sounds raced across the air followed by roars of massive explosion. The house shuddered. They could all die here, Sonju thought. Her chest tightened. It was hard to breathe. Next to her, Second Sister, her head still wrapped with her arms, heaved a loud sigh and bolted up. “I can’t do this,” she said and sprang out of the room. Sonju ran after her. Second Sister dashed to the gate and disappeared into the dark night. Sonju heard Second Sister’s two oldest children behind her, crying for their mother.
Sister-in-Law appeared at the anteroom, rushed to the children and enfolded them. “What happened?”
Sonju shot out her words, “Jinju and Jinjin are alone in the room. Would you watch the children? I’ll look for Second Sister.” She ran out into the night.
At first, she didn’t see anyone. Her heart pounded so hard that she had to stop running and bend over to catch her breath. Gunshots rang. There were explosions lighting the street in front of her. She caught a glimpse of a lump farther down the street. “Second Sister!” Her heart pounded hard again. She ran toward the hunched figure. “Second Sister!” Second Sister was crouching by the side of the road, her arms tightly around her head, not moving. Sonju got down on her knees and shook her. “Second Sister, you’re all right. Let’s go home.”
Second Sister lifted her head, her hands feeling Sonju’s arms like a blind person. She slowly rose to her feet, leaning on Sonju. Her arm wrapped around Second Sister’s waist, Sonju led her hobbling sister-in-Law toward home in the dark. The battle noise came sporadically now, but it was still happening, the deafening blast of it intensifying Second Sister’s thick stink of fright. It had taken only a split second for Second Sister to leap into madness. Sonju thought it could have happened to her too.
The next morning, Second Sister was quiet and withdrawn, oblivious of her children’s anxious glances at her. After two days, she began to talk a little, saying something about her father.
A week after the bombardment, only occasional gunshots rang from the distance far south of Daejon. The family subsisted on thin rice porridge and pickled radish, and Sonju began to notice that not just the adults but also the children were becoming thin. Out of need, she went to the market again. Along the way, she saw the destruction. Houses and buildings were destroyed, and rubble lay every which way. She could still smell the burnt wood and concrete dust. The market had shrunk to only a few stalls. She was lucky to find the last scrawny chicken in a cage. Upon payment, the seller twisted off its neck. When she came home with the limp bird, she told the maid to make soup in a large kettle until meat came off the bones and save the bones for soup for the next day.
On August 1st, a clan man brought word from Father-in-Law for Sonju and Second Sister to stay in Daejon until the war was over.
Days passed. Rice dwindled. Weeks passed. No word from their husbands.
Near the end of September, Sister-in-Law’s husband reported, “Our side won in the south! The enemy couldn’t take Pusan and is retreating. Up north, the UN forces landed at Inchon and captured Kimpo Airfield, so the enemy is stuck in the south with their supplies cut off.”
A week later, Sister-in-Law’s husband sprinted to the living room, shouting, “Seoul was liberated four days ago, on the 27th!”
Even before those words fully settled in Sonju’s head, Second Sister pulled her into their room. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Let’s pack.”
“We should wait,” Sonju said, watching Second Sister walk around the room picking up her things and packing them. “Enemy soldiers are moving north. They will pass through Maari. Who knows what they would do, desperate as they are.”
“We’ll be safe. The enemy won’t ride trains in their retreat.”
“Father-in-Law said to wait until the war is over. It’s not over yet.”
Tears welled up in Second Sister’s eyes. “I’m going. With my children. We’re running out of food here. At least we have food in Maari. I must have news of my father.” She was crying by the time she finished her words.
Sonju recalled the night Second Sister lost her mind. For the first time, Sonju regarded Second Sister as a selfish person. She said, “I can’t let you leave alone with three children in tow.” Sonju packed her things to leave the following day.
When she told Sister-in-Law of their decision to leave and thanked her profusely for taking them into her house and sharing food, Sister-in-Law looked worried, reminding her that the war wasn’t over.
After three months, Sonju’s party left Daejon. On the way to the train station, before she saw what it was, Sonju smelled the stench of fresh kill like the smell of a waste bucket in a butcher shop.
Second Sister crinkled her nose. “What is that smell?”
When they turned the corner, Sonju saw to their right on a wide patch of ground a group of tattered bodies of men and women all lined up, hands bound and faces down, not moving. Dark blood stains on the ground, streaks of blood from the heads to the necks with some parts blown away, and bloodied spots on their civilian clothes. She almost gagged, her nausea working itself up, and wondered if they were also in danger. Instinctively, she and Second Sister turned the children sharply around to keep them from seeing. But of course, they saw. Chuljin and Jina were old enough to know what they glimpsed. That’s why they didn’t ask questions. They now knew death, how violent it could be. Holding hands, they all ran toward the train station. Sonju wanted to scream. Her head was about to explode in anger. They shouldn’t have left. Father-in-law sent word to them not to return until the war was over. The limp bodies reduced to animal flesh, reeking animal stench so sticky it seeped into her pores, into her nose—she smelled it no matter how fast or how far they ran. She didn’t realize she was crying.
Sonju and Second Sister spoke little to each other during the train ride. One stop before Maari, the train halted, and without any explanation, the conductor told the passengers to get off.
Sonju’s party joined a long line of people walking on the raised narrow dirt paths between rice fields. Chuljin complained of blisters on his toes. Jina whined about her tired feet. Second Sister let down two-year old Jinjin, tied five-year-old Jina on her back, and carried her luggage in one hand and held Chuljin’s hand in the other. Jinjin, Second Sister’s youngest child, two years old, held Sonju’s free hand and toddled without one single complaint. She was a tough girl, born on the election day, not saying much but always observing. Sonju squeezed Jinjin’s little hand and turned her head over her shoulder for a glimpse of Jinju on her back. They followed the procession of women carrying bundles of their belongings on their heads and men carrying heavy things on their backs. Near the railroad Sonju saw a large crater. How many had died in that explosion? she wondered. How many had died all over the country?
Further along stretched harvested farmland far into the base of tall hills in the distance. The air was clear all around. Sonju could breathe now. Her heart leapt when she saw in the distance the familiar shade tree under which Second House farm workers had eaten lunch. They hurried through the underpass of the railroad toward the clan houses. As they neared the house on the hill, Sonju looked up and saw the roof peeking above the juniper fence. The chestnut tree at the edge of the Second House property still stood with its lower limb bent at a familiar angle. “We’re home, children.” Sonju quickened her pace.
Chuljin and Jina clapped their hands and ran up the hill to the outer courtyard pumping their little legs and huffing. Chuljin pushed the gate open, raced to the courtyard, shouting, “Grandma! Grandpa!” From the kitchen, Mother-in-Law came running, flashing a teeth-showing smile and glinting eyes, embraced Chuljin and Jina as they plunged into her arms. Father-in-Law stroked the children’s heads one by one. Second Sister and Sonju bowed to their parents-in-law.
“How have you been?” Sonju asked, still out of breath from walking fast up the steep slope to the house.
“Nothing bad happened to us,” Father-in-Law said. “We didn’t expect you yet, but I am glad you made it home safely.”
Second Sister’s two older children chattered about the guns and explosions to their grandparents, but not about the dead bodies they saw. Their grandmother reminded them about the rabbit, and they took off to the back to check on their pet. With the children out of sight and hearing, Second Sister asked, “Did the fighting come here, too?”
“Yes, it passed very quickly.” Mother-in-Law didn’t elaborate, but seemed anxious to avoid the topic.
Dragging her luggage to her room, Second Sister muttered in a despairing tone, “Then the battle must have come to my father’s village as well.”
After Father-in-Law returned to the men’s quarters, Sonju remained with Mother-in-Law and asked, “Is Jinwon back?”
“She is at Big House.” Mother-in-Law lowered her voice. “The Little House’s two sons went to the North. They are communists. Your husband never told you that, did he?”
“No. Only that they studied very hard,” Sonju said, “He said they barely spoke to him in spite of sharing the house for two years.”
“Even after they graduated from the university, they rarely came to see their parents.” Mother-in-Law clucked her tongue. “Now their parents can’t face people. If you see them, don’t mention their sons.” She then walked to the servant’s quarters and ordered a servant to kill three chickens for dinner.
Mother-in-Law cared for Jinju and Jinjin—a necessary task in the absence of maids—while Sonju and Second Sister prepared a meal. She watched her grandchildren devour the food and sniffled. “Look at them eating like beggars,” she said.
After the kitchen work was done, Sonju carried a bucket of hot water to her room and washed Jinju and herself with wet cloth, then laid the yo on the floor. Jinju fell asleep right away and started to snore.
Only a day later, in the inner courtyard, Second Sister was telling Chuljin he’d better get his books out and study because he was going back to school as soon as it opened. He whined. His five-year-old sister Jina said, “I will go. I can count numbers up to one hundred and I read better than he does.”
Chuljin pushed her down, and she wailed.
“Shhh! Jinjin is sleeping.” Their mother hissed. Sonju picked up Jina off the ground to keep her away from her brother. Second Sister grabbed Chuljin and ordered him to go study and sent Jina to her rabbit in the back of the house.
Just then, a clan woman walked in. “I heard Second House ladies arrived. I came to welcome you home.”
“Yes, yesterday. Thank you,” Sonju said and led her to the anteroom. Mother-in-Law joined them.
The woman looked at Sonju and Second Sister, and said, “While you were gone, Yankee soldiers came looking for North Korean soldiers and searched houses.” Mother-in-Law nodded at Second Sister’s questioning look. The woman continued. “Our young women were scared. I heard they hid in the windowless room at the Little House. They let their hair down and painted their teeth black with charcoal soot to look like toothless old women.”
“Was anyone raped?” Sonju asked.
Before the woman could answer, Mother-in-Law said, “No. The soldiers went through here quickly.”
“I’m glad you’re back.” A loud voice came from the gates, and all four women turned.
The hunchback approached the anteroom with his particular gait with his head and arms forward. “I’m not going to sit.” He stopped and smiled at Sonju and Second Sister. “Your parents-in-law worried so much when they learned about the major battle in Daejon.” He swiped the air with his hand. “War is a horrible thing, just horrible. Many Yankees died here. There were bodies scattered on the rise along the creek. It was a terrible sight. It happened so fast.” He shook his head. “Some village boys went from body to body looking for rings and watches. I saw one boy wearing watches from his wrists all the way to his elbows on both arms. Shame, shame.”
Sonju again saw the images of the strewn corpses in Daejon. The stench rose in her nostrils. She exhaled and held her breath. She could still smell it, the same odor in her nightmares.
“What happened to all those bodies?” Second Sister asked with a side glance at Sonju.
“Some Yankees came in trucks and took them away. I have to go now.”
After the hunchback left, the woman said, “A few young village men turned red. They said that under communism everybody shares and there are no rich, privileged people like us. They wanted to lynch Big House Master.”
“Big House Master? And what happened?” Sonju asked.
“The villagers chased them back to their houses, some beating them with their bare fists. The men weren’t seen again. I guess they left to join the communists.”
The woman continued with the village news until Mother-in-Law turned to her and said, “I need to go to Big House. I will walk out with you.”
Before going to her room, Second Sister said, “I thought that woman would never stop talking.”
Sonju went to her room and started sorting out clothes to wash. Once in a while she watched her sleeping daughter. It saddened her that even long after her daughter had forgotten the battle sounds, the experience of fear might color her in some way. It saddened her too that the village was no longer a quiet, insulated place. It used to be simple. It used to be innocent. But now unaccustomed unease had settled here not knowing what or whom they could depend on or trust.
She heard Mother-in-Law tell Second Sister, “With all the excitement, I forgot. I have a letter for you from your family.” Sonju dropped the clothes and went to the living room. “Any letters for me?” Mother-in-Law shook her head. Second Sister went to her room, a letter held to her chest, smiling ear to ear. Sonju dropped her head, returned to her room, and put aside the dirty clothes in a pile.
Within moments came a piercing scream, then a heart-tearing wail.
Sonju rushed to Second Sister’s room, swung the door open and found Second Sister weeping, her upper body collapsed to the floor, her shoulders heaving, the letter still in her hand.
“What happened?”
Second Sister sat up and lifted her wet face. Some hair strands were stuck to her cheeks. “They killed my father.”
Sonju sucked in the air. “Who killed your father?”
“Two communist sympathizers. My family knows them.”
Someone gasped. Sonju turned. Mother-in-Law was standing at the door looking at Second Sister. “Was your brother there, too?”
“Not my older brother. My younger brother came home a month later and after learning of our father’s death, he dragged the two killers to our father’s grave and shot them dead. He is back with his troops.” She covered her face and sobbed.
Sonju sat very still. This was the first casualty in the family. Something thick and heavy pressed her chest.
“I have to go to my father’s grave.” Second Sister sobbed again.
“Go see your mother. Go with the old servant,” Mother-in-Law said.
The children gathered at the door. “What’s wrong, Mommy?” Jina cried.
Sonju took the children to her room. “A bad thing happened to your grandfather, your Mommy’s father, so she is very sad.”
“A bad thing?” Jina asked.
“Yes. Your mother will tell you about it later.”
That night, the servant returned and reported that Second Sister arrived at her birth home safely.