Daughters of the Dragon: A Comfort Woman's Story (10 page)

S
IXTEEN

T
hey killed five
of my
ianfu
sisters immediately. Three girls froze in fright and soon, the thundering, heavy-caliber gun found them and put them down like the first five. Jin-sook fell to her knees. “No!” she cried. “Why me?” The gunner put several bullets in her, throwing her body into the mud with her legs twisted underneath her. Mee-su ran screaming toward the latrine with her hands over her ears. Private Ishida lifted his rifle and shot her square in the back. She flopped to the mud, arms out, limp like a rag doll. Then the machine gun was silent and there was only the smell of gunpowder and the splatter of rain falling on mud.

Private Ishida lowered his rifle and stared at the lifeless body of Mee-su. His mouth was open and his head cocked to the side as if he was trying to understand what he had just done. He stared for several seconds. Then he looked directly at me. I held his eyes, stepped out from behind the latrine, and faced him without fear. He raised his rifle but he did not shoot. I reached inside my
yukata
and pulled out the comb. I held it in my hand. As I looked down the barrel of Private Ishida’s rifle, I saw all the women in my family who like me, had once held the comb in their hands, too. I saw them all the way back to my great-great grandmother, the yangban who’d had the comb made. And they told me to run.

So I ran. As fast as my sore legs could carry me, I ran behind the latrine toward the village. To my left was the laundry and in front of me the white walls of the infirmary. I slipped in the mud, pushed myself up and ran inside the infirmary. I ran up the stairs to the ward. It was empty except for Soo-hee. I went to her and grabbed her arm. “Soo-hee,” I panted. “They’re shooting us! We have to run!”

Soo-hee’s eyes were sunken and her skin was as pale as snow. “I can’t,” she said weakly.

I tugged harder. “You have to. They will kill us!” Soo-hee winced in pain and I let go of her arm.

I stood over Soo-hee with the comb in my hand and saw that she was too weak to move. And then I knew it was over. I lay on the cold tile floor next to my
onni
. “Okay,” I said. “We will die together.”

Soo-hee lifted her head off the mat and took in a pained breath. “Ja-hee,” she said. “You must go without me.”

I shook my head. “No Soo-hee. I cannot.” I was finally at peace. I was ready to die.

With effort, Soo-hee rolled toward me. “Yes you can, Ja-hee. You have the comb with the dragon, there in your hand. You were born in the year of the dragon. You can survive this. The comb will protect you.”

I opened my hand and looked at the comb. “I do not believe in the comb,” I said. “It didn’t help
Ummah
and it did not save us from this.”

“You can still be saved,” Soo-hee said, “and then you can tell them what happened here.”

“I don’t want anyone to know what happened here,” I said.

“Then,” Soo-hee said, “they will get away with it.”

I heard footsteps from the stairway at the other end of the ward. Men were talking in clipped voices. Soo-hee touched my arm. “You must go,” she whispered. “Please do this for me. Do it for all of us.”

I glanced down the long corridor, then back at my
onni
. Her eyes were sunken and sad. I so wanted to stay with Soo-hee, to let it all be over. The footsteps grew louder. “Oh, Soo-hee,” I said.

“Goodbye little sister,” Soo-hee said weakly. “Go now. Hurry!”

I reached over and stroked Soo-hee’s hair. I gave my
onni
one last look and pushed down another cry. Then, with the comb in my hand, I ran for the door. My legs no longer hurt and my head didn’t pound. I ran down the stairs and out into the street. The rain was falling hard among the colorless procession of soldiers. I didn’t see Private Ishida or Lieutenant Tanaka. I cut between two buildings and the roofs dripped rainwater on me. I ran through a courtyard and between two more buildings. I came to a grass strip separating the village from a wheat field. I looked to my left, then to my right and ran for the field.

From somewhere behind me, Lieutenant Tanaka shouted, “There she is! Shoot! SHOOT HER!” A rifle shot rang out and mud splattered a circle near my feet. I ran as fast as I could and reached the wheat field as another shot rang out. The bullet snapped through the stalks alongside me. I ran into the field. Mud grabbed at my
zori
, so I let them slip off. I ran and ran but the stiff, sharp wheat stalks cut my feet. I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled, gripping the comb as I went. Boots splashed in the mud behind me. I crawled with all my strength, but I kept slipping in the mud. The footsteps came closer. Over my shoulder, I saw Private Ishida scanning the wheat field for me, his rifle in both hands. He spotted me and ran up to me. I rolled over on my back. The private aimed his rifle at me.

I held the comb in front of me. Rain struck my face and ran in my eyes. I blinked it away and met the eyes of Private Ishida. “Private,” I said, “your people have already killed me many times. Let me live this once.”

He held his aim. Rain dripped off the rifle barrel and the bill of his cap. He held nervous eyes on me for several seconds. Then he whispered, “They’ll shoot me if they find out. Stay here until we leave.” He pulled the rifle barrel a few inches to the left and fired twice into the ground making mud splatter on my face. He ran back to the village.

I couldn’t breathe. My ears rang from the rifle shots and I wondered if I was still alive. Eventually, the ringing went away and all I heard was rain patting on the ground next to me. I pulled my arms and legs to my chest. I wanted to cry but I hadn’t allowed myself to cry for so long I didn’t know how, so tears never came.

*

Darkness. The rain had stopped and the air was still. I lay on my side, my knees to my chest, shivering in the cold, sticky mud. Inky clouds slid away revealing bright stars in a moonless sky. The only sound I heard was a dog barking from somewhere in the village.

I pushed myself to my knees, and then unsteadily to my feet. There was no movement in the village and no lights. I held the comb with the two-headed dragon tight in my fist.

I walked barefoot through the wheat field, across the grass to the village. The pain in my thighs from Lieutenant Tanaka’s beating had come back making it difficult to walk. The bruises on my face from Colonel Matsumoto’s blows had turned into a sharp ache. I stumbled down an abandoned street to the infirmary. I pulled myself up the dark stairs to the ward and went to where Soo-hee had been. I pulled aside the white sheet. My
onni
wasn’t there.

I left the infirmary and went to the comfort station. They had burned the barracks to the ground. A few lonely flames danced among the smoldering remains. And there I saw the bodies of the eleven girls lying in a jagged line, lifeless, like mounds of dirt.

I stood in the courtyard and all the cries I had pushed down for so long roiled and raged inside me. I felt the stone in my stomach crack. I closed my eyes, fell to my knees, threw back my head, and opened my throat. And all my cries burst out.

I kneeled on the muddy ground with my face to the sky and a thousand cries met a thousand stars in the moonless Manchurian night. I cried for my innocence and for each time they called me a whore. I cried for the dead girls who had been my sisters. I cried for my mother and father. And I cried for Soo-hee. The cries ripped out my stomach, my lungs, and my heart until there was nothing left inside and I collapsed, empty, to the mud.

*

Daylight. The smell of burned wood. The sticky wet of mud underneath me. A crow cawed nearby. I could feel stillness of death.

I drew a breath and opened my eyes. The sun was at its mid-morning angle. The air was calm. Here and there, thin lines of smoke drifted up from the barracks’ charred remains. A crow perched on the dead body of Mee-su pecking at her eyes.

I heard the sound of a truck behind me. A truck door opened and I heard footsteps in the mud. The crow cawed and slapped its wings in flight. I heard voices in a strange language.

A boot like I had never seen before—dirty and well used—kicked me. A voice said something in a language I didn’t understand. The boot kicked again sending pain into my ribs. I lifted my head and looked to where the voice had come from. I saw a man’s face. 

His eyes were blue.

S
EVENTEEN

August 2008. Seoul, South Korea

M
rs. Hong is
giving me an “I-told-you-so” stare. I look inside my empty teacup. I tell her I didn’t know anything about the comfort women. After I say it, I realize I sound incredibly lame.

“I am telling you,” she replies, “because you must know.”

“To fulfill your promise to your sister,” I say. “To tell what happened to you.”

“Yes, but you must also know because you are a Korean. You should know what happened to your country. You need to know your people. Anyway, you have only heard part of my story. There is more, much more I have to tell you.”

There’s more? She’s still dressed in her yellow
hanbok
, sitting upright in her chair, ready to go on. Me? I need to stop. I’m tired and confused. I now have more questions than when I got here. It just doesn’t make sense—the gold comb in the hands of this poor woman, her incredible story. I need time to process this.

A breeze blows through the window and clouds are forming outside. It smells like it does before it rains. I look down at the street. I check my watch. It’s 12:45. The cab won’t be here for over two hours and I have no other way to get back to the hotel. I have to stay.

“Ma’am,” I say, “I’ll listen to the rest of your story. But what is it about this comb? I mean, it’s just an heirloom right?”

Mrs. Hong shakes her head. “It is important that you take the time to understand what it is so you know what it means for you.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I should take it,” I say. “I don’t want to break any laws.”

Suddenly there’s a loud knock on the door. A man’s voice shouts something in Korean. My eyes snap to Mrs. Hong. “The police,” she whispers. Her weird smile rattles me as much as the knocking at the door. “They’re here for the comb!”

I look at the table where Mrs. Hong set the package with the comb. It isn’t there. The knocking turns into pounding. My heart starts racing. “Anna,” Mrs. Hong says, “listen carefully. Tell them that you went to an address that came with the comb and gave it back to the person who gave it to you. Then you came to visit me. Do you understand?”

“Why?” I ask.

“They cannot have the comb,” she says.

Mrs. Hong goes to the door and opens it. In the hallway are two men. Mrs. Hong bows, but the men push past her into the apartment. The taller one is dressed in a smooth suit and looks like a government man you see on TV. The other guy is bald and looks like an Asian version of Bruce Willis. He’s wearing a sports coat a size too small that shows off his impressive biceps. Two policemen follow them in. I quickly stand as Government Man comes up to me.

“Are you Anna Carlson?” Government Man asks. His English is well practiced with only a slight trace of an accent.

I shoot a nervous look at Mrs. Hong. “Yes,” I say.

“And this is your grandmother, Hong Ja-hee?” Government Man asks pointing at Mrs. Hong.

“Yes it is? Who are you?”

“My name is Mr. Kwan,” he answers. “I’m here for the comb you showed Mr. Kim yesterday. It might be a valuable Korean artifact. I wanted to talk to you at the hotel this morning, but your father said you were sick and had to stay in bed. But now we find you here. You lied. So, where is the comb?”

“I… I don’t have it. I gave it back. Are you with the police?”

Mr. Kwan takes out his I.D. and shows it to me. It is in Hangul so I can’t read it, but it looks official enough. He tells me he’s with the National Police. He asks who I gave the comb to.

“There was an address with it,” I say quickly. “I went there and gave it back. Then I came here to visit my grandmother.” My knees are shaking and I don’t want Mr. Kwan to see so I move close to the table.

“I don’t believe you,” Mr. Kwan replies clearly noticing my move into the table. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. If the comb is here, we will find it.” He motions Bruce Willis over to me. As the policeman start to search the apartment, Bruce motions for me to raise my arms.

“Are you going to frisk me?” I ask unsteadily.

“Yes we are,” Mr. Kwan answers. Bruce has a metal-detecting wand so thank God he doesn’t have to touch me. He waves the thing over my entire body. When he’s satisfied that I don’t have the comb, he turns to Mrs. Hong. Her twisted grin makes me even more nervous. Bruce says something to her in Korean and waves his wand over her. He doesn’t’ find anything on her, either.

Mr. Kwan points to the table. “Both of you sit,” he orders.

We sit at the table and Mr. Kwan stands over us with his arms folded as the policemen search the apartment. They’re amazingly thorough. They disassemble parts of the stove, pour the bori cha down the drain and look inside the pot, remove the trap in the sink, wave the wand over every inch of the bed mat. They wand all of Mrs. Hong’s clothing, pour out the rice from the burlap bag in the cupboard, examine the light fixture in the ceiling, turn over the table and chairs. They look everywhere but when they’re done, they haven’t found the comb. I begin to wonder myself where it is.

Finally, the police are done and Bruce Willis shrugs. Mr. Kwan turns to me. He asks me if I remember the address where I took the comb and how I got there. I say I don’t remember and I don’t know where it was. He asks me to describe the comb and I give him a general description of it. He writes everything I say on his pad.

Then he asks, “Did the dragon have five toes? Try to remember. This is important.”

I remember Mrs. Hong’s story that Colonel Matsumoto was amazed that the dragon had five toes but I didn’t notice it myself. “I don’t remember seeing that,” I say.

“So you gave the comb back and then you came here?” he asks. “Why?”

“To meet my grandmother. To hear her story.”

“Her story?” he says. “I can only imagine what she is telling you. But you should know that if she was an honorable woman, she would live in the comfort woman home in Gwanju instead of this place.”

He turns to Mrs. Hong. “I have read your papers Hong, Ja-hee. What are you hiding? Why do you live in this place and not at the House of Sharing? You would be honored there along with the other comfort women.”

Mrs. Hong glares at him but doesn’t say anything. Mr. Kwan says, “Perhaps it is because you were a
chinulpa
?”

He turns back to me and I swallow hard. “Is she the one who gave you the comb? Answer me.”

I’m starting to panic. I don’t want to tell the truth, but I don’t want to lie either. Mr. Kwan motions to Bruce who comes and stands behind me. Mr. Kwan puts his hands on the table and looks at me straight in the eye. He’s scowling making me wish I’d never come here. He tells me people have stolen Korea’s national treasures from for hundreds of years. He says it’s illegal to take artifacts out of Korea and that I’ll be in a lot of trouble if I do. He says the comb might be very important to Korea. “Now I want answers,” he says. “I ask you again. Is this the person who gave you the comb?”

I feel the hulking presence of Bruce behind me and I’m about to cry. “I… I,” I stammer.

Mr. Kwan slams his fist on the table making both me and the teacups jump. “Answer me!” he barks. “You know where it is and I want you to tell me. Now!”

Tears are welling in my eyes. I can’t breathe. If these men want to hurt me, there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I take a deep breath and prepare to tell them everything they want to know.

Then in a flash, Mrs. Hong is on her feet pushing Mr. Kwan toward the door. “Get out!” she screams. “Get out of my apartment this minute!”

Mr. Kwan steps back, surprised at her rage. “Ma’am, do not get in our way. This is an official matter.”

She takes an angry step toward him. “Do you think I’m afraid of you?” she growls. “Do you think you can do anything to me that has not already been done? You are nothing! I have suffered all my life for Korea. I can suffer a lot more.” She steps in to Mr. Kwan’s face. “She doesn’t have the comb and you have searched my apartment. Now go, find who has it instead of threatening me and my granddaughter!”

Mr. Kwan locks eyes with Mrs. Hong. Then he blinks twice. After a few long seconds, he turns to me and asks what my plans are for the rest of the day. I tell him after I’m done here, I plan to buy a celadon pot and then go to the hotel to catch the bus for the airport.

“Good,” he says. “Be sure you are on your flight tonight or I will have you arrested. Is that clear?”

I assure him he’s very clear and he shoots another look at Mrs. Hong who hasn’t backed away an inch. He turns to leave but stops mid-step. “Oh and by the way, the best place to buy a celadon pot is at Kosney’s Department store, not from the shops on the streets. The quality is much better. It’s worth the higher price.”

“Thank you,” I say. He gives me a diplomatic smile and then he and the others leave.

Mrs. Hong comes back to the table. All the anger she showed only seconds earlier is gone. She asks if I’m alright.

I shake my head. My heart is pounding. The apartment is shrinking in on me and I’m suffocating. “They… they were going to hurt me,” I gasp. “I have to go.” I grab my purse and push away from the table.

“No, stay,” she says. “You will be fine.”

“No I’m not fine!” I cry. “I have to get out of here.” I head for the door.

“If you leave now Ja-young, you will prove that I was wrong about you,” she says.

I quickly turn back. “Look, my name is Anna and I’m sorry if I’m afraid, but I can’t do this.” I fight back tears as I march to the door and pull on my shoes.

As I reach for the door handle, she says, “It is your fear that will prevent you from becoming who you are meant to be.” I grip the door handle hard but don’t turn it.

“Don’t you want to know, Anna?” she asks, gently.