So Far from the Bamboo Grove (7 page)

Then Hideyo yelled in anger. “Damn them! My home was ransacked, the valuables were stolen. Now the Communists slaughter good people!” Hideyo sobbed.

“Let's borrow some clothes and get out of here!” yelled Shoichi.

They changed into Korean clothes. They rolled their students' uniforms in their blankets.

There was no map to lead them south, so they decided to follow the railroad tracks. But they had walked all night without sleep, so now they went up on the hill near the Lees' house, crawled into the bushes, and slept until evening came.

Their walking journey began. If they had to speak,
they spoke in the Korean language. They slept during the day for fear they would be discovered by the Korean Communist Army. Also, it was cooler to walk through the night.

When they came across vegetable fields they dug up whatever they could find, simply shook the dirt off, and ate the vegetables raw, to save their own food supplies. They sucked the juices from wild plants. They devoured wild carrots and any tomatoes they found, for the heat made them thirsty. They had been walking now for ten days.

Their canteens were empty of water, their lips peeling. When they saw anything green they put it in their mouths and sucked as hard as they could to draw at least a drop of juice. They were exhausted.

“There is a pond!” Hideyo shouted.

Water! They were overjoyed. Hurriedly they walked toward the pond, but the pond was not there. It was a large bloodstain on the ground, and dead bodies were scattered all over the place. They walked back to the rail track, dragging themselves toward the south.

As the days passed, they began to see numbers of Koreans, or Japanese, children as well as women, walking on the rails.

“Hey, are you Japanese or Koreans?” asked one elderly man in Japanese. He walked along with Hideyo and his group.

“We are Koreans. But not members of the Communist Party,” Hideyo answered carefully in the Ko
rean language. He was taking every possible precaution. There was a prize for producing anyone on the “wanted” list, dead or alive. Hideyo suspected that Korean Communists who had trained in Manchuria were itching to get hold of his father. They would gladly slash the son's head. He would let no one know who he was, lest someone betray him to the Communists for a price. “Are you heading for the south?” he asked the old man in Korean.

“I am going back to Japan. If I can, that is. Too bad Japan has lost the war.”

Hideyo almost screamed in his surprise. “Lost the war? Is the war over? When?” Shoichi, Shinzo, and Makoto all looked shocked, but they remained silent for they did not speak Korean as well as Hideyo.

“We've been working way up north,” he told the man. “The Korean Communists attacked us and we've been walking ever since. I am heading for Seoul. What day is this?”

“The seventeenth of August.” The man spoke in poor Korean. “
It's all over
. I heard the Emperor's talk over the radio.” His voice cracked. “And I heard that the Americans dropped powerful bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It's over!” Tears streamed like a river on his deeply wrinkled face.

Hideyo wanted to comfort him, to tell him that he was a Japanese boy, his sadness was great too, but he held back and stayed cool. “When did the war end?” he asked.

“Two days ago. It's all over.”

They heard more stories.

“No wonder everybody is heading southward,” Shinzo whispered. “They're getting away from the Korean Communists. We've been walking fifteen days!”

They entered a railroad tunnel that became darker and darker. They stumbled on the ties. Hideyo and Makoto fumbled for the candles in their rucksacks and Makoto lit them. The candles gave a faint light, and carefully they went forward.

They felt vibration on the rails. A train! The boys stepped aside, but there was not much space between the rails and the wall of the tunnel. The engine passed by, roaring and shaking the tunnel, and the wind from the train blew out the candles.

Hideyo pasted himself against the wall and turned his head sideways. He could see sparks from the wheels, and they flew to his legs and hips and his skin burned. The thick, heavy smoke enveloped the tunnel, and he was unable to breathe or keep his eyes open. He coughed and coughed and felt dizzy. Is this the end of me? he thought. Still he clung to the wall. He heard a sound like something smashing and at the same time he felt warm water on his neck and face, running down to his chest.

At last the train passed. With deep relief, still coughing, Hideyo called his friends' names, and they answered. Again Makoto lit the candles and they went on carefully, touching the tunnel wall as a guide, for the candles did not give enough light.

Suddenly Hideyo stumbled and fell. Makoto, right behind him, fell too. Both candles went out.

“Hey, what's going on? Are you all right?” yelled Shinzo.

“I think I stumbled on a human,” Hideyo replied. Once more Makoto lit the candles, and there lay the mangled body of the elderly Japanese, blocking the track.

They were glad when they saw a faint light in the far distance, and walked much faster, eager to swallow fresh air. They left the tunnel and took deep breaths. They were all splashed with blood from head to toe, and at first they thought they might be injured, but it was blood splashed from other escapees who could not get out of the way fast enough.

Looking for a thicket, they left the track and began wiping off the blood with large leaves.

“Halt!” someone shouted in poor Korean. From an opposite thicket two Russian soldiers with machine guns came running.

The boys raised their arms high. If there were just one soldier, Hideyo thought, they could fight him, but there were two, with weapons.

“Are you Korean Communist members?” the Russian asked.

The boys answered as one. “We are!”

“Where are you going?”

“We are going to P'yŏnggang,” Hideyo answered.

“Why are you carrying Japanese sacks and blankets?”

Hideyo lied. “We stole from the Japanese. Our
parents got killed. We are heading for our relatives.”

“Are you all brothers?” one of the soldiers asked.

“No, cousins. We are orphans.” Hideyo made a sad face.

The soldiers stared at the boys and there was silence. Shoichi broke the stillness. “I have fine cigarettes. Do you want to smoke?”

“Where did you get them?” a soldier asked.

“I stole from the Japanese,” answered Shoichi. “You've never tasted fine cigarettes like these.” He reached to his chest pocket, his right arm still in the air. The soldiers came closer.

“Do you have food? Let's exchange,” Shoichi said.

“No, we don't have food. Give me those cigarettes,” commanded the head Russian.

Another, close to Shoichi, shouted, “You stink!”

“We have not bathed for almost two weeks,” said Hideyo with a little laugh. And then Makoto and Shinzo began to laugh too.

With the laughter the soldiers seemed to relax. They let the boys bring their arms down. And as they puffed the fine Japanese cigarettes the taller soldier said that if they went on to the next town, Tanch'ŏn, they would find that Communist Army Headquarters was hiring laborers for a little money. If they stayed on they would be fed.

Tanch'ŏn? Hideyo thought. They had only walked a fourth of the distance to Seoul. It's a long way to Seoul but I must make it. Hideyo talked to himself in his heart.

“Say, comrades.” He spoke brightly to the Russian
soldiers in Korean. He asked if there was a pond or river nearby, as he wanted to bathe before he met his relatives. The Russians said to walk a couple of miles to the west and he would cross a little river.

Once more the boys walked. They were thrilled to hear they would find a river but they did not run or show joyful faces. They walked slowly and composed themselves by singing Korean love songs loudly as they went.

The first thing they did when they came to the river was to fill their stomachs with water. They filled their canteens. Then they stripped, washed themselves, and rinsed the Korean clothes borrowed from the Lees. They spread the garments on the riverbank where the sun-heated rocks would dry them, and then they threw themselves on the warm rocks and went to sleep.

When they reached the army headquarters in Tanch'ŏn they learned that the labor was putting dead bodies into large straw sacks and tossing them from the cliff into Tanch'ŏn Bay. These were bodies that had been thrown from trains or left to die in the fields. At the end of the day they were given cooked cabbage and rice. Each time, the four boys saved a little, for they knew they had many miles ahead of them.

Whenever the boys handled a dead woman or a young girl they took extra care, sliding the sacks gently down the cliff into the water. Hideyo was very relieved that he did not see his mother's or his sisters' bodies.

When the work was finished, headquarters gave them their small earnings. Then they walked on. They walked for a month and a half until they reached the port city, Wŏnsan. It was the end of September now, and the companions decided to part. Makoto would go with Shinzo and Shoichi to their relatives, Hideyo would go on to Seoul. He was determined to get at least as far as
the thirty-eighth parallel
, beyond which lay some safety and the hope of meeting his mother and sisters later in Seoul. They cooked the last of their rice and shared the water from the canteens. They lay in the mountain bush, reminiscing about their wonderful friendship.

“Hey,” Makoto said, “if we ever get back to Japan, where shall we meet?”

“At Tokyo Bridge. It's a famous meeting spot,” Shoichi suggested.

“When?” asked Shinzo.

“Maybe five years from now,” answered Hideyo.

The stars shone brightly above them, but the breeze from the bay held the smell of fall. None of the four young men could sleep for thinking of this, their last night together. As night advanced Hideyo began to feel chilly, and he spread his little sister's tiny fur coat on his back and covered himself with his blanket.

Hideyo alone headed toward Seoul next morning. He felt lonesome, with no one to talk to, but he kept walking on the railroad tracks, holding the dream that soon he would meet with his mother and sisters.

K
O, TALL AND BROAD-SHOULDERED
, was well suited to the army uniform and looked like a real soldier. Mother was short and slightly built and looked awkward in the high-necked khaki outfit. Her dusty hair was covered by a soldier's hat.

Even though Ko rolled my trousers, they kept unrolling and dragged on the ground.

I could not see my hands, only long sleeves flip-flopping.

The baggy trousers kept falling down even when tied with the rope Mother had tied my wrist with. Ko made rope suspenders for me.

But soon the edge of the trousers rubbed against my chest. My right ear was throbbing. It still felt plugged and I could not hear when Mother or Ko talked to me from the right side.

Mother comforted me. “Give it a chance.” But the August sun was hot on my shaved head, my mouth was dry, and my entire body ached. I whined.

“Gosh! Whiny sister! Can't you shut up for a change?” Ko was disgusted.

“I hurt!”

She gave me a harsh look. “Just shut up and keep on walking.”

I cried as I walked, wiping my eyes and nose with my uniform sleeves. “Save your body water,” Ko told me. “With each tear you are dehydrating yourself.”

I shaded my head with one hand and shed more tears over my shaved head. “It will grow back,” Ko said without emotion.

I pitied myself for not hearing well and for the constant pain in my chest. And I was mad at Ko. “Shut up!” she was always saying, or “Walk!” and Mother never corrected her for her rough talk. I longed for Father. If Father were here, Ko would still be spunky but a tender sister. Finally my crying got on Mother's nerves.

“Why can't you be strong and good like your honorable sister?” she asked, wiping her forehead.

I yelled. “I'm not her! She'd cry too if she'd got hit.”

“I would not!” Ko snapped. “You have done nothing but whine and fuss. This journey would be easier if you had got killed!”

I stopped walking and stared at her, dumbfounded. My big sister wished me dead.

“Ko, don't you ever talk like that again!” Mother said. “Do you understand? Never!”

Ko just walked faster. Faster and faster. Mother took my hand and we followed at a slower pace.

The tracks were entering mountains. The shade of the tall trees was cool, and I picked leaves and sucked their juice, but it was bitter.

Ko was out of sight, but suddenly her voice came from a thicket. When she appeared, she was smiling at us. “Do you want to rest, Little One?”

I was not going to speak to a sister who wished me dead.

“Let's rest, Mother,” Ko repeated.

Deep inside, I hoped we were going to rest. I was dry and starved, but mostly I longed to lie down. The pain in my ear and in my chest seemed unbearable. Mother and I kept on walking, “Aren't you ever hungry?” I asked Mother, because she never complained.

“I am very hungry and tired, but what good would it do to complain?” she said. “I am grateful we are alive. We must make it to Seoul and meet Hideyo.” She choked with tears.

Ko called again, this time from the top of a hill, and waved to us to come up. We puffed our way up and she led us to a small cave. I knew she wanted to
make up for what she had said, but I sulked. I dropped my rucksack, took off the heavy, smelly uniform, threw myself on the ground, and fell asleep.

Then Ko was shaking me gently. “Little One. It's dinner time.” Something smelled good and I sat up. Mother was eating corn on the cob. Ko was eating a red, juicy tomato. She took an ear of corn from the campfire, rolled it in a cloth, and handed it to me. I gazed at the food with my mouth open.