Preparing for Winter - 3
It had been quite a while since I contacted the Ministry of National Defense, telling them there appeared to be the remains of a Korean War veteran here.
The words why did it take you so long to come? had risen to the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back.
Better late than never, at least.
The official I spoke with on the phone had said the excavation of the remains might not begin until next spring at the earliest. Among the Korean War veterans, some 120,000 soldiers remain missing, their remains never found.
In some cases, there wasn't even a record that the man had served at all.
Given the situation, a meticulous investigation was conducted before an excavation team was ever dispatched to a site. After all, remains recovered from the ground might not belong to our own soldiers at all.
You can hardly entomb the remains of a Chinese People's Volunteer soldier in the Tower of Unknown Soldiers at the National Cemetery.
In this case, I'd gotten lucky — the personal effects caught my eye first, which made it possible to track down the family. And yet, oddly enough, that very luck was what had tangled the whole affair up, or so I was told.
"The bereaved family said they wanted to thank you in person, so I passed along your contact information. I never imagined they'd send a shaman."
The team leader bowed deeply to me, looking utterly mortified.
"I'm truly sorry. I heard the shaman sent by the family put you through quite an ordeal. When the police relayed what had happened, I didn't know whether to be more shocked or ashamed."
"It was certainly an absurd experience."
Still, it hadn't been entirely a bad thing for me. Being engraved by the cat demon had fully opened my Yeongan, my spiritual vision, and that had become the very catalyst that strengthened my abilities.
Knowing none of this, the team leader simply went on apologizing, his voice heavy with regret.
"I wanted to come see you sooner, but the family seized on the incident to file a protest, and..."
"A protest? Shouldn't I be the one filing one?"
When I frowned at the absurdity of it, the team leader let out a faint sigh.
"A complaint came in on our end as well, framed rather differently. It said the family had tried to hold a memorial rite to appease the deceased's spirit, but it was thwarted by opposition from the locals."
"They wanted to perform a gut ritual. Said they'd guide the departed's soul to the afterlife and take only the bare bones with them."
I summarized for him what the shaman had said.
"The family had a fortune told, and apparently the reading claimed they'd incur an ancestor's wrath and lose both their health and their wealth. So they showed up hauling janggu drums and buk drums on their backs, planning to perform the gut before anything else."
At my words, the team leader went crimson with indignation.
"So that's why they were raising such a fuss about excavating the remains only after Lunar New Year next year!"
"After Lunar New Year? Ah — I suppose the thinking is that once the year turns, they can dodge their bad luck or ill fortune, something like that?"
"Yes, it would appear so."
"They do nothing but defy common sense."
When I said the family's behavior had crossed every line of decency, the team leader nodded with passionate agreement.
"Besides, we hold a Gaetoje — an earth-opening rite — before any excavation begins!"
The Gaetoje, he explained, was a ritual performed before the excavation of remains got underway. Before opening the earth, they informed the earth god and the ancestors of the reason for the work, consoled the spirit of the deceased, and prayed for the safety of the workers.
"To be honest, we were worried you might forbid the Gaetoje from taking place."
"So that's why you came without contacting me in advance?"
"Ah, well... based on what the family said, I assumed you were someone who blocked memorial rites out of fervent religious conviction."
It seemed the man had mistaken me for the sort of fanatic whose eyes would roll back at the sight of a jesa offering, someone who'd flip the offering table outright.
Team Leader, sir? I'm a medium. Haha.
I said with a smile on my face, "I have no intention whatsoever of preventing you from holding rites to console the deceased — the Gaetoje included."
"The village head said the very same thing."
The team leader went on, visibly relieved.
"When I contacted him about the Gaetoje, he told me Mr. Kim was not the sort of man who disparaged traditional rites."
"Yunho, my boy!"
Speak of the tiger and he appears, as they say.
The village head, driving back up the village road, waved at me through the car window. Han Su-ja was in the passenger seat.
"There he is now."
"Haha, yes."
I burst out laughing, then turned to the team leader. "The village head has always hoped the unknown soldiers would have their identities restored and return to their families' embrace. He's been wishing for it just as much as I have."
The village head pulled up right beside me, scrambled out of the car, and panted, "Aigoo, Yunho, my boy! You came at just the right time. Have you greeted the team leader yet?"
"I have. We just cleared up a misunderstanding. Isn't that right, Team Leader?"
"Ah, yes, yes. Talking with Mr. Kim, I could tell what an outstanding man he is. I look forward to receiving a great deal of help from him going forward."
Taking it as a request for help, I nodded firmly. "Of course I'll lend a hand. What's a few days of hard work for men who gave their lives defending this country?"
"See that! That's the kind of remarkable young man our Yunho is."
At the village head's words, Han Su-ja climbed out of the car. "Oh, quit bragging. You'll wear your mouth out. Yunho, come give me a hand. I had rice cakes made at the mill."
"Oh, of course."
I helped Han Su-ja unload from the car the food that would be used for the Gaetoje.
"Hey there, Sergeant Kim! Hurry up and give them a hand."
"Sir, yes sir!"
It seemed a request for support had been made to the nearby base — soldiers came running over and took the loads from my hands.
"Then let us begin the excavation today with the Gaetoje and a survey of the site. Would you be able to guide us?"
"Of course."
Several days passed. The weather grew colder by the day, but thankfully the ground had not yet frozen.
"Ah, my hands are freezing."
Blowing warm breath into my cupped palms, I headed for the excavation site.
The recovery team ate breakfast at the nearby army base, then went straight up the mountain to continue their work. They made do with bread and milk for lunch, and only dealt with dinner after finishing for the day and coming back down.
So by around midday, they were inevitably hungry, cold, and worn out. Everyone said it was work they did gladly, but it was brutal all the same.
I hear you need either a medical license or a degree in archaeology to join a remains identification team.
This didn't seem like work anyone could do without a sense of mission, patriotism, and selflessness. It didn't pay well, brought neither fame nor popularity — and on top of that, they had to climb a mountain every day, bend their backs, and dig into the earth.
"Not a single person standing up straight today either, I see."
The technique was to gently scrape the soil away with the flat back of a small hoe where remains were believed to lie, and once bone appeared, to brush the dirt off bit by careful bit with a soft brush. Naturally the work progressed slowly, and they had to squat in place for hours without moving a muscle. Their necks, backs, and wrists all ached.
"I brought coffee and reishi mushroom tea. Everyone, warm yourselves up while you work."
At the sound of my voice, smiles bloomed across the faces of every member of the team, the team leader included.
"Ah, we're saved!"
"I'll admit I was quietly counting the minutes, wondering what we'd do if you didn't come today."
"Don't say that, you'll make it awkward! The coffee and reishi tea you bring us are wonderful, truly, but honestly, you could stop coming now."
At the team leader's words, I burst out laughing and waved my hands. "Say that all you like — I'll still come up tomorrow with coffee and tea in my bag. It's the only thing I can do for the departed, after all."
It was true. There was so little I could do for those who had already passed on.
Not that the dead ask for anything...
I glanced up and looked at the spirits standing among the trees. They wore military uniforms — and strangely enough, they never once spoke to me.
They simply stood there, watching our side of the clearing, then vanished like smoke when no one was looking, only to reappear again. Over and over.
Had they lived as unknown soldiers for so long that they'd forgotten how to speak?
Just then, a team member crouched on his stomach behind a pine tree shouted out.
"I think I've found a full skeleton!"
Scattered fragments of a soldier's remains had been found nearby on several occasions, but never a complete set. After so many years, a whole skeleton simply couldn't have survived.
And yet.
"It's an upper torso, skull still attached."
"Oh, my God."
At the bullet hole clearly punched through the skull, everyone was struck speechless.
Around the remains were found several carbine casings used by the South Korean army, and buttons that had come loose from the uniform itself.
"The lower half is missing — looks like he fought to the very end and was hit by a mortar shell."
"So it would seem."
Everyone fell silent for a moment, the gravity of it settling over us.
"Everyone, come over here. Let us bow our heads in silent tribute."
At the team leader's instruction, the members formed a circle and bowed their heads.
"Because of you, senior, the Republic of Korea has preserved its sovereignty and all its people live in safety. In honor of your will, we too pledge to devote this one life to defending our country! Everyone — silent tribute!"
An unknown soldier whose rank and name no one knew.
But with that single honorific — senior — the team leader, every member of the recovery team, and I were all thinking the same thing.
You are the great hero who made it possible for us to live in this Republic of Korea.
When the moment of tribute ended, the members took out hanji paper and began wrapping the remains, piece by piece. On each sheet they recorded the time and location of the excavation, and even the position in which the remains had been found — down to the compass directions.
The remains so carefully cradled in hanji were then placed in a paulownia wood coffin box. After that, a red cloth signifying a Korean War veteran, and then the Taegeukgi — the flag of the Republic of Korea that this unknown soldier had given his life to defend — were draped over them one after the other.
"Ah!"
At that moment, brilliant light came pouring from the body of the spirit standing dumbstruck between the pine trees.
Expression spread across the spirit's face, which until now had looked like a gray wooden puppet, and its eyes, nose, and mouth slowly took shape.
He's such a young boy. Eighteen at most?
With his baby-faced features and gaunt frame, he could have passed for a high school student.
The bullet hole vanished from his forehead, and the boy, restored to a picture of health, looked at me and smiled.
That smile seemed to say thank you for finding my remains, even if it took until now — and before I knew it, my eyes were stinging.
Senior, I'm sorry it took us this long to bring you to the National Cemetery. And thank you.
I bowed my head deeply and prayed in my heart that he would rest in peace now, and that his soul would find its way home.
Yesterday, while excavating, we'd found a button embossed with an eagle insignia. Remains believed to be an American's were also recovered, and with the U.S. military notified, the excavation was paused for a time.
The American side said they'd send people over too, so a joint U.S.-Korea team was formed.
As the story grew, Ugok 1-ri found itself in the news.
And then —
"I'm telling you, the county governor called me personally!"
Fresh off the phone call, the village head was practically floating as he talked to me. "Yunho, my boy, you've brought honor not just to our village but to all of Pyeongcheong County! The recovery team is giving you a commendation and a cash prize of ten million won, so the county governor figured he ought to give you something too."
"Ah, yes, yes."
Since I was convinced the commendation belonged to someone else entirely, the village head's words went in one ear and out the other.
They should be giving even greater medals to the men who died defending this country — why on earth would they give one to me?
After seeing that boy's spirit, I'd been thinking about a lot of things. If someone had told high-school-aged me to go off to war and fire a gun, would I really have fought well?
That boy, thinking he had to protect his mother and little siblings back home, must have felt his desperation dwarf his fear.
And what had I actually done? Gone out to gather pine mushrooms and stumbled across some personal effects. Then volunteered every day serving coffee and tea to the recovery team. That was the whole of it.
If I accepted a commendation for that, I felt like even my own hands would be ashamed.
"You'll ruin it, pressing down that hard with the knife!"
Besides, right now I was far too busy learning how to peel deodeok roots from Han Su-ja.
"You peel the skin off the deodeok, not the whole thing! Turn it round and round like you're peeling an apple and there'll be nothing left!"
"Forget the deodeok — I'm telling you the county governor called."
Apparently the deodeok mattered more to Han Su-ja than the county governor did.
"The deodeok is exactly the problem! You dug up such plump, healthy roots and then didn't know the first thing about peeling them, so they've dried up and shriveled on you."
"You could dry them out and brew tea with them. Besides, these are wild deodeok, not some fertilizer-raised crop — just leave them be and chew on them as they are."
"But there's nothing to sink your teeth into."
"I-is that so?"
In the end, even the village head rolled up his sleeves. He fetched a potato peeler and joined the deodeok-peeling effort, still talking all the while.
"The county governor told me himself, didn't he? He says he'll actively support you so that your move to the countryside goes off without a hitch!"
"'Actively support,' you say?"