The Price of Freedom

Looking at the fence now I think about the terrible journey of long ago. I remember the people I left behind and the decisions I had to make. But most of all I remember the feeling of freedom and how my spirit refused to be broken. But let’s start at the beginning, when I was just a Korean girl living in the North under Japanese rule…

“Haiwon, you must be getting to school,” my mother called softly; we had to speak quietly inside the house this early in the morning or the Japanese living next door in the house that had once belonged to my friend Jachun might get angry and take away my mother’s house cleaning job.

Sighing I kissed my mother on the cheek, pulled my drab Japanese attire snugly around my thin frame, and stepped out into the cold. I spotted my best friend, Oknul, up ahead and hurried to catch up. We said nothing as we walked to Japanese school together, for speaking Korean in public was a surefire way to get into trouble and neither of us were fond of speaking the language of our oppressors, the Japanese, unless it was absolutely necessary.

We walked into the schoolyard side by side and then parted to go to our separate places in the line of girls. The girl behind me, only slightly taller, gave me a quick, warm smile. I returned the kindly gesture.

Soon the school was called to attention and I said the words that I had spoken everyday for many years. The meaningless words about obeying the Heavenly Emperor and defeating the White Devils had long ago become a routine part of my day. I had noticed, however, that the Japanese had become more and more repetitive and insistent that they would defeat the White Devils. This gave me hope that the Americans were winning the war and that we would soon be free of Japanese rule.

I followed my line inside the school building, which was not much warmer than the outside was, for another long day of class. I longed for the day that the Japanese would leave the Koreans, my people, alone.

The time crawled by slowly that year, until I thought I would crack. A few of the others did crack and were expelled for yelling truths at the Japanese, truths that the Japanese did not like; but so far as I had remained strong and for that I was thankful. Every morning and every night my mother and I prayed to out Catholic God. Then one day our prayers were finally answered.

August 15, 1945 was a date that I would never forget for as long as I lived, it was the day I truly gained my freedom for the first time. On that date the Japanese were defeated by the White Devils they had sworn to eliminate. They seemed to leave Korea as quickly as they had entered. For the first time in a long, long time, my people were free. I thought it was too good to be true, all of this freedom, and it turned out I was right.

“My father came back!” Oknul exclaimed as she bustled into our yard one morning, “He just walked into our house last night. He’s sleeping now, so I thought I’d come and tell you the good news.”

I smiled genuinely, happy that Oknul, who was like a sister to me, had her family intact. But the smile slid off my face as a distressed looking boy walked through our gate. I recognized Jachun, whose family had moved back into their house next door, immediately.

“What’s wrong?” I asked quickly, expecting the worst, and that’s exactly what came.

“Russians,” Jachun replied. There was no need for him to elaborate; I knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Wait a second and I’ll come too,” I responded as calmly as possible, hurrying inside to tell my mother that the Russian were coming and to hide everything of value.

“Go,” my mother told me as I reached the doorway, “I will be able to take care of things here. You go and warn those who don’t already know and to help those who need your help.”

I turned and the three of us hurried out of the yard to warn the town and help those to hide precious items who couldn’t manage to hide them on their own.

Once again my people were oppressed, this time some of them voluntarily. The ‘town reds’, as these Communist supporters were called, grew more and more in number. But many also became “Pinks”, or Koreans who pretended to support Communism while really trying to escape past the barbed fence at the 38th parallel to freedom in South Korea.

My family, Oknul’s family and Jachun’s family all fell into this “Pinks” category. We all made sure we appeared to be among Communism’s greatest supporters but were really trying to find a way to escape the oppression.

I rolled out of bed and sleepily pulled on my drab gray dress and red headscarf, the typical uniform of a Communist in North Korea. I picked up my passport and hurried out of the house, not wanting to be late for my Communist meeting. I was a deeply trusted Comrade even though I was so young.

I handed my passport to the guard at the door to the meeting building. He took it, glanced at it, stamped it and handed it back to me with a small smile. I returned the smile and hurried inside. I was supposed to take notes during the meeting.

After the meeting, which was about the importance of good Mother Russia, I waited for Jachun and Oknul and the three of us went to lunch together. They were also ‘trusted Comrades’ and did various things about the facility.

“My young Comrades, please follow me. We have a special assignment for you,” Comrade Natasha, a blue-eyed blonde-haired stereotypical Russian, led us into the meeting room and gestured for us to sit in the front row of seats facing the speaker’s platform.

We took a seat and waited apprehensively to find out what was going on. Had they discovered our plans to escape? A few more ‘trusted Comrades’ were led in by various Russians, all looking as apprehensive as I felt. Most of them, I realized, were Pinks, not true Town Reds. The room sat in apprehensive silence waiting for the Russians to speak.

“We have good news for all of you trusted Comrades,” a Russian spoke finally, “You have been chosen for the very important task of traveling throughout the North and convincing other Koreans that we are all equal in Mother Russia and that we should all become trusted Comrades. You will travel in groups of three, to your various assigned towns. I wish you all luck, now please form into groups.”

Jachun, Oknul and I all hurriedly looked at one another and nodded. This may just be our chance to escape, and we would be in a group together.

“So our three young Comrades have chosen to stick together. That is a wise choice, if you do well and listen you will more than likely receive praise and be elevated in your jobs,” Comrade Natasha smiled at us ‘young Comrades’, pleased that we strived to prove ourselves.

I just returned the smile, knowing that wasn’t exactly why we had chosen to work together, but also knowing that I couldn’t give any hint about that little detail. The life of a prominent Pink was always complicated, for we always feared a slip of the tongue would end our time on this earth and, even more importantly, ruin our chance at freedom.

My mother told me not to worry about her, that she, along with Oknul’s and Jachun’s parents, would follow us in our escape as soon as possible. And so we left, the other two had received explicit orders to unquestioningly listen to what I said. I was flattered and scared by this confidence in my abilities. We made our way towards the Southern towns on our list without arousing suspicion. Many Russians looked at us with an almost longing in their eyes, to be so young, and already such trusted Comrades, was highly unorthodox.

We reached Pyongyang without incident and traveled farther south after a couple of days to a small town just north of the 38th parallel. This is where the story of our flight for freedom truly begins.

“You’re telling me that we have to get past all of those guards without anyone seeing us?” Jachun asked in disbelief.

“We won’t go in broad daylight. We’ll have to wear dark clothes, and find out exactly how we can go about getting past the 38th parallel,” I replied in a whisper.

It was the middle of the night but I still worried about people overhearing. We sat in a dark room, except for the one small candle in the center, trying to make plans for escape to the South. I had a few basic plans in mind, several of which included my ‘being attacked’ by the other two and staying behind to help others out of North Korea, after I knew the best route that is.

“Forget it,” Oknul whispered suddenly, noting the look in my eye, “You’re coming with us, even if we have to drag you.”

“You weren’t planning on staying behind, were you?” Jachun asked amazed at Oknul’s ability to tell my very thoughts.

“I can’t say the idea hadn’t crossed my mind,” I replied smoothly, carefully not giving the affirmative of my presence in the escape.

“You’re coming,” Jachun and Oknul said together firmly.

I knew that idea wouldn’t go over too well with them, but I had to considerer all of the pros and cons before I realized that they were right, I couldn’t stay here. If any of us were going to escape, then all of us would have to escape, or die trying. I shook that last thought out of my head. No of us were going to die trying to escape, I wouldn’t let it happen.

“So here’s the basic plan,” I started quietly…

All of the preparations in place for our escape, we prepared to leave the next night, which was supposed to be foggy and the moonlight was going to be minimal since it was nearly the new moon phase. We dressed in dark layers of clothing and hoped and prayed for the best. All too soon it was time to go.

I led the other two down the road like we were going to visit another family after we finished our rounds of persuasion for the night. If anyone saw us, they suspected nothing other than that we were trying to force some other innocent into Communism. We hurried through the cool night, not wanting to be stopped or questioned. Soon we reached a small wooded area and I, as nonchalantly as possible, turned off of the road and quickly strode into the woods. The others followed. We hurried through the woods aware that there was no turning back now, we would either escape, or die trying.

We hustled through the woods for a while before coming to a rice paddy. We stopped on the edge of the woods to wait for the searchlight to pass by and then set off through the paddy. We frequently stopped and dropped close to the murky paddy water as the searchlight passed overhead. I heard barking in the distance from the guard dogs. I hoped they hadn’t picked up our scent. Thankfully none of us had received a bath for some time, so our scent would not be as easily followed.

Though our progress was slow, it was clear that we were making progress. It seemed like lifetimes later that we came to a steep hill on the other side of the paddy. I climbed the hill quickly, knowing that if the searchlight passed over there was no place to hide and we would probably be spotted. I hadn’t shared this information with the other two, but I was positive they knew deep down that if we slowed down now, we would never make it. So, even though exhaustion was taking its toll, we kept struggling and reached the wooded crest of the hill.

Now we had to be extremely careful, because the wooded area was sure to be crawling with guards and guard dogs. We slowed our pace the tiniest bit so as to be more careful about noise. I had timed the escape so that the guards should mostly be back at the station changing shifts, but I couldn’t be sure, so I continued relentlessly.

“Can we slow down?” Jachun whined his voice barely audible to me, only a foot or so away.

I shook my head in the negative. Though I was sure he had known exactly what the answer would be, he was still slightly disappointed at the answer. The woods suddenly thinned out. I hadn’t been expecting that and stopped short. Only 500 yards away was the fence alone the 38th parallel. We were almost there and I began to believe that maybe we could make it after all.

Just as I realized that I was almost free I heard dogs barking. The barking was much too close for my liking and seemed to be getting louder. Nodding to the other two we sprinted towards the fence. I heard the shouts of Russian soldiers and the barks of their dogs chasing after us. I ran even faster and reached the fence before the others. Fear gave me strength and I bent the fence so we could wiggle under.

I beckoned to the others wildly and Jachun dove for the fence. He scampered under and turned to help us. My heart dropped as I heard the sound of a gun and saw Oknul fall to the ground, screaming in pain. I half dragged half carried her to the fence and Jachun and I managed to shove her through without hurting her too badly, or so we hoped. Finally, with the Russian raising his gun to shoot again I went under the fence. As I stood up on the other side I knew I was safe. There was no turning back. I was free, like I had always wanted to be.

Like most things worth having freedom has its prices. Oknul paid for it with her life. Her gunshot wound was serious and she died of infection and blood loss less than a day after we reached freedom. I knew, from the look on her face, that to Oknul all the pain and even death was truly worth it in exchange for dying a free person.

My mother never made it across the 38th parallel, nor did Oknul or Jachun’s family, but my father, who had not come home after the end of the war, was in Seoul when Jachun and I arrived there. We lived with him for a time while we got jobs. Then Jachun and I moved out, eager to do our own good in the world. We, along with my father, opened a house for refugees from North Korea.

Jachun and I married on August 15, five years after our escape at 20 years old. It was a bittersweet day, for though Jachun and I were very happy together we could not help but remember those we had left behind in North Korea who we had once hoped would be present at that happy event.

Standing here and looking back at that fence now, with my own fifteen year old daughter by my side, I can almost see the image of a fifteen year old girl crawling under it, a girl who refused to let her spirit be broken and did not hesitate to pay the price of freedom.

Well, I wrote this as a project for my freshman World Geography class last year, thought I'd post it... hope you enjoyed whatever it is that I'm talking about, I don't particularly remember the logistics of the story except that it was written about escape from communist North Korea at the end of WWII. Once again, one of my non-humorous stories, I forget I can write without much humor sometimes.

Love From,
MotherCrumpet