The calligrapher's daughter_ a novel - Eugenia Kim [178]
“Shortly after Pearl Harbor, the New York Presbytery ordained me as a postwar missionary. I hadn’t yet been ordained because I needed to be sponsored by a local church. Naturally I attended church, but as part of my studies it was one church or another, which left me without a church to support me as copastor or even assistant pastor. The Presbytery chose to ordain me as a missionary, thinking ahead to when the war would end and the potential need for an indigenous missionary. But after V-J Day,” he defined the Americanism and went on, “I appealed to the Presbytery to send me home, and was told that an American missionary had just returned from Korea and had reported that the people were not yet prepared to receive an indigenous Korean as an American missionary. I was greatly disappointed.
“Several years ago, a group of friends and I had formed a society to publish a journal called the Korea Economic Digest. Since very few Americans know about Korea, our aim was to educate and publicize the political situation. Then two years ago, when we learned that the Cairo Declarations said Korea would eventually have independence, we wanted to propagate discussion on what Korea was like and what it should become after the war. Somehow, we managed to raise enough money to distribute the journal, not only to subscribers but also to libraries, government offices and influential people in Washington. On August 15, I was with this group of friends in our makeshift office at a boardinghouse, and we all stayed up through the night listening to the radio, until finally we heard Hirohito’s surrender. One of my fellow editors was so overcome he fell to the floor and burst into tears. Soon we were all crying with him.”
“I hope to hear that radio broadcast one day,” said Dongsaeng.
“I’m certain you will,” said Calvin, “since it’s the first time a Japanese emperor, their god figure, spoke publicly in this way.” The men talked more about the radio broadcast and Japanese ethos, then he returned to his story.
“Our journal had become a contact point between Koreans and Americans, and the society received word that the army needed interpreters. That very day I had also received a phone call asking me to become an interpreter for the military. They particularly needed men who were fluent in Korean, Japanese and English, and the government knew about me from the OSS. That I could also read Chinese made them quite pleased, and I was immediately hired as a civilian employee and given the rank of field officer. I was trained briefly in army protocol and what to expect of the U.S. military government installed here. I flew on army transport and arrived this morning.”
Everyone exclaimed, and Sunok smiled with the happiness that filled the room. Calvin’s experiences were far different from anything I could have ever imagined, and I marveled at both his accomplishments and perseverance.
Calvin looked at me and said, “It is eleven years since I left this land. During that time I heard only sporadically from my father. Not long after you saw them last, my parents moved to Manchuria in self-exile. My father believed religious persecution would only increase as the China War escalated, and he was correct. I have not heard from him since then but believe they’ll return to Pyeongyang if they haven’t already. I worry that my mother is in fragile health and hope to gain permission to visit my parents. I know that wherever they are, they’re living the word of God and are at peace. Too many families have suffered.”
We murmured agreement, and some time passed in spontaneous silence, prayer and remembrance for the countless lost.
“What news of your families?” asked Calvin. Relatives and politics were discussed, and a sad lunch of rice and cabbage prepared, served and eaten. The afternoon waned. Rain came and left, as Calvin, Ilsun and Grandfather each tried to compress the decade into words. Grandmother took Meeja and Sunok to the kitchen to prepare as much of a supper as they could muster, insisting that I stay with my husband. As the sun set and cold seeped into