When My Name Was Keoko: Chapters 15–25

Abuji shook his head. “I have already thought about this. It would be very dangerous to try to contact him. And it would take time—long enough so the authorities would hear of his untimely disappearance before he could return. If they were uncertain about his activities before now, they will surely know by then.”

Abuji paused and spoke again, each word careful and deliberate. “To be honest, I do not even know whom to get in touch with. My brother was cautious that way. He thought it best for me to know as little as possible.”

Once a week my classmates and I march into the hillside forests to gather pine roots. The roots are loaded into carts and taken away by the military. They use the resin to clean aircraft and weapons.

I thought we’d be supervised by our teachers. The soldiers are a lot cruder.

If the enemy invaded the town, we were to pelt them with the stones.

I’d heard that the missionaries and other white people who had come to Korea couldn’t tell the difference between Koreans and Japanese on sight.

But Japanese men, especially, were easy to tell apart from Koreans. They were much shorter, and their complexions were darker, more olive-toned.

But often I could not keep the melancholy out of my words:
If I could choose to be anything,
I would choose Wind.

Omoni worked harder and harder to put skimpy meals on the table.

“Look at these patriotic girls!” he said. “The Emperor and their families will be so proud of them! Come, aren’t there more of you who would like to join them in this endeavor?”

Hee-won had been spared as soon as the principal had seen who she was.

“Treasonous writings,” the officer answers curtly. “Writings that express lies and slander against His Divine Majesty’s benevolent presence in this country. And we need no assistance. If such writings are here, we will find them—you can be sure of that.”

“Treasonous writings,” the officer answers curtly. “Writings that express lies and slander against His Divine Majesty’s benevolent presence in this country. And we need no assistance. If such writings are here, we will find them—you can be sure of that.”

Treasonous writings?

“Idiotic thoughts written in a beautiful hand,” he says. “Do not waste the glory of fine kanji on such nonsense—it is a crime against our Divine Emperor. You are fortunate that I will grant leniency this one time. Any more of this and I will not be so merciful.”

He hands the diary to another soldier and makes a brusque gesture.

I pretend it’s me drinking sake, heading out onto the tarmac, and then taking off.

“Well, I don’t know,” she said, striking a contemplative pose.

“Who said anything about one bag?” I said indignantly. “Some of this is for me, you know! I was offering half a bag!”

Following Omoni in, I took only one step past the threshold and stood next to the sliding door, making myself as small as I could.

“At present, your uncle is, you might say, a problem for us. We wish him no harm—we wish only for a chance to speak with him, to help him see how his slanderous activities hurt progress and success in this country.”

Then he furrows his brow and gives this fake sigh. “Unfortunately, not all of my colleagues admire your uncle as I do,” he says, his voice full of regret.

“There are those who feel it would be better to simply...eliminate him. They do not agree with my assessment that perhaps he can be reeducated.”

He has to act pleased that I’ve volunteered for the army. He congratulates me on my excellent choice and blathers on about the army for a little while.

It was a staggering thought—to weigh the lives of two people I loved against each other, to decide which was worth more.

“Yes, Sun-hee, there is one thing. I’ll be allowed to write letters, but I’m sure they’ll be censored. I won’t be able to put down the truth as I see it. I’m counting on you to read between my words and uncover their true meaning. It would mean a lot to me to know that you’ll try to understand what I really want to say.”

“The queen has spoken,” I said loftily. “Do not risk incurring my wrath.”

“The queen has spoken,” I said loftily. “Do not risk incurring my wrath.”

Then Tae-yul looked at me and mimed a groveling bow, as if he were a lowly servant, and we were off once again.

Reveille at 0430 hours.

In the afternoon, we have physical training. Endless calisthenics. Running for hours with rocks in our kit bags. Uphill, always uphill. How can there be so much uphill with no downhill?

Back to the barracks for the last time. Laundry, the last duty of the day. Washing out that day’s uniform, hanging it up to dry. Taking the other uniform, hung up the day before, brushing it, sewing loose buttons, darning any holes.

The sergeants walk up and down our ranks, listening to each one of us: “The soldier and sailor should consider loyalty their paramount duty....Remember always that duty is heavier than a mountain, while death is lighter than a feather....”

How tedious it must be at the end of a long day to have to worry about preparing his uniform for the next day’s inspection.

Omoni put in a little pot of bean paste and a paper packet of go-kam, his favorite sweet of dried persimmons.