A Korean comfort woman and a Japanese officer
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By Maija Rhee Devine
What did the end of World War II on Aug. 15, 1945 mean to the 200,000 Korean "comfort women?” With 20 to 30 Japanese soldiers "lunging” at their bodies "like animals” each day, did the women dream of going home and falling into their parents’ arms? When the soldiers stopped coming and the comfort station operators disappeared, it hit the girls. Their bodies became manshinchangi, tattered, oozing puss. How could they face their families? Some resorted to suicide.
Today, among the published testimonies by comfort women, the words of Kim Soon-duk (aka Kim Duk-jin) (1921-2004) hit home. Though without a formal education, she was smart; her story was indicative of that time.
As a 17-year-old, she was led away by a Korean man with promise of a job in a factory or else as a nurse in Japan. But she landed at a comfort station in Shanghai.
“Ranchang” they called her. Each girl cowered in a cubicle with enough space "for one person to lie down.” "With 30-40 men ravaging our bodies,” she recalled, "our private parts became so swollen, not even a needle could pass through.”
Later, after being picked as "pretty” and "smart,” she remembered being transported into the military quarters where she entertained officers. The rank of Izme, an officer she met, was high. When he walked by, soldiers stood at attention on either side and shouted. Sometimes, she was escorted by boat to meet him. One day, the river turned red as the boat passed through a mass of dead bodies. Every day, Izme told her, "I love you” and promised to send her to school in Japan. Early in the year 1940, Soon-duk worried about her frequent illnesses, Izme said, “Go home. I promise to join you later.” The Korean operator of the comfort station wasn’t pleased. But after being paid 100 yen by Izme (50 times the monthly wage for domestic help) and letters bearing his seal that granted free meals and passage to Korea, she returned to Korea ― five years before the war ended. Volumes of testimonies rarely turn up such fortunate endings.
Did she fall into the arms of her mother and live happily? Not exactly. Neighbors’ suspicions, gossip and alienation drove Soon-duk away. But letters from Izme in Nanjing kept coming. She sent him packages that included dried rice drink mixes and packets of red hot pepper flakes. In reply, he joked, ``Those peppers were HOT! Are you trying to kill me?” Shortly before the war ended, his letters stopped, and those she kept were lost during the Korean War.
Fifty years later, in 1992, when she went public about her time as a comfort woman, the story shocked her family. While her eldest son, by a Korean man she began to live with just before the Korean War, wept and said, “What suffering you lived through, mother! I’m proud of you!” her second son and his wife suffered depression.
The final words of Kim’s testimony cut to the bone. "Japan was and is ‘bad.’ But those I resent more are ‘my people’ who acted as agents of the Japanese! I have mountains to say about the Korean government, too. It should also compensate us. Not being able to afford a home of my own devastates me. The least my government should do is provide homes for us.”
In 1992, more than 40 years after the women’s return to Korea, a dormitory for comfort women opened with funds raised by Korean Buddhist Human Rights activists.
When the bells of Korean Independence Day and Kim Soon-duk’s words break the Morning Calm, the silence ― of those who never returned ― will pierce hearts again.
Maija Rhee Devine is the author of an autobiographical novel about Korea, “The Voices of Heaven,” the winner of four book awards. She also authored a poetry book,” Long Walks on Short Days.” Her website: www.MaijaRheeDevine.com; e-mail: maijadevine@gmail.com.