Naivete of a comfort girl

By Nam Sang-so

Lt. Tsunoda (1918–2013) was a fighter pilot in the Imperial Japanese Navy during World War II. On Aug. 14, 1945 he was ordered to sortie in a Kamikaze suicide squad. When he was about to take off the next day the suicide squad was told to wait on the ground. When they were informed Japan had surrendered, the warriors shed tears on the tarmac not knowing if they were for joy of survival or mortification.

He wrote his memoir, “The Wings in Pandemonium” in which the old soldier reflected on his blooming love for a Korean girl, a member of the “Women’s Volunteer Corps,” at Rabaul in Papua New Guinea. This love story blossomed in the pandemonium of the battle field.

“After having suffered from the pains of gunshot wounds at the base hospital, I was finally able to stand up when two of my fellow pilots rushed into the room; “You’ve got to come with us! Wakamaru (her Korean name was Kim) refuses to accept other soldiers. She believes you were killed in action and refuses to eat.” The guys carried me to the comfort station. “Hey, Tsunoda is alive!” the boys shouted in the corridor and several girls peeped out of their rooms and clapped their hands. The boys dumped me in Wakamaru’s room. Her face was soiled by tears and uncombed hair. She bumped into me, cried out, “You are alive!” Her cheek and breasts were soft and a tinge of sweet woman’s scent hit me. She was beautiful.

When I first visited the comfort station, the girls wore black skirt and white shirt except one who wore a kimono. I peeked in the kimono girl who said “Welcome home,” in clear Japanese and made a curtsy. Wakamaru and I continued to meet each other. She was born into a poor family near Wonsan now in North Korea. The recruiters for the Women’s Volunteer Corps lured and persuaded girls that they would make big money working at a factory. She and some others nodded in order to reduce the number of mouths for the family to feed. At Yokohama port, they were asked to select the place of work, in or out of Japan. The payment for overseas job was much higher so the Wonsan girls opted to board a military transport ship.

“On board we were told that our job includes, in addition to kitchen chores comforting soldiers in the front line who have dedicated their lives to the Emperor so that our job is one of the most patriotic services. We had realized we had been cheated while the ship was sailing into the torrid zone.

“Now I’m here with you in the jungle. Since I’ve lost my destiny, I’ve decided to accept my fate just like you have done so as a suicide pilot. We have no tomorrow,” she said. In an American bombing raid, I unconsciously put my body over her. She pushed me out and placed herself over me. “Why did you do that?” I protested. “Why did you cover me?” she said. I wiped her wet face, and felt that if I died today with this 19 year old girl, I wouldn’t have any regret. “I want to die with you,” she too often said.

“She must be 87 now. I’m sure she is alive and well surrounded by a lot of grandchildren, and I know she won’t forget me as I won’t forget her, ever.” Tsunoda died two years ago. He was 94.

The writer is a Japanese-English-Korean translator. His email address is sangsonam@gmail.com.