Chapter 107
Chapter 107
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Kim Il-sung
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I landed at Hanseong Airport instead of my usual Pyongyang Sunan Airfield.
It was because I felt the need to inspect Seoul—Hanseong—at least once.
As I was about to walk past the military honor guard lined up at Hanseong Airport, an impressive name caught my eye.
When I stopped, Kim Seong-ju asked,
"Is that an officer you know?"
"He might be."
The name was Kim Seong-ju.
Same as the Army Minister beside me, but to us, he was known by a slightly different name.
Kim Il-sung.
No Korean could be unaware of that name.
Still, just in case, I should confirm.
"Hey, bring that friend closer."
At Kim Seong-ju's order, the fake Kim Seong-ju—no, Kim Il-sung—hurried over.
"L-Loyalty. Major Kim Il-sung of the 1337th Unit, greeting the esteemed leader, Your Excellency Lee Seong-jun."
"At ease."
Even after I told him to relax, Kim Il-sung's expression remained rigid.
"Son, where's your hometown?"
"Pyongyang, Your Excellency."
"When were you born?"
Instead of looking puzzled at the odd question, Kim Il-sung answered in an even more tense tone.
"Born in 1912."
He seemed to be the Kim Il-sung I knew.
If there was any doubt, it would be 140% confirmed, but I didn't see it yet.
"You're with the airport unit?"
"Yes, that's right."
Air Force?
When I asked, he said no.
I had a short chat with Il-sung and got in the car.
On the way, Kim Seong-ju said,
"If he has some connection to you, Your Excellency, I'll look after him."
Meaning he'd push him into the National Salvation Military Commission.
No, why push Il-sung like that?
I immediately frowned.
"It's not like that. Why would I promote that guy? There's nothing about him I like."
"I-I'm sorry, Your Excellency. I've upset you."
"Forget it. You misunderstood, so drop it."
I cut off my thoughts on Kim Il-sung there.
But I should have thought it through better.
A single word from me could wield more power than a typhoon for someone.
*
"He confirmed my name and even asked about my background. That's proof he's interested in me. I've made it."
Kim Seong-ju—no, Kim Il-sung—was thrilled.
Having caught the eye of the highest authority in the country meant the end of his miserable airport unit days.
Where would his next post be?
Security Command?
Central Intelligence?
Capital Defense Command?
Anywhere was fine.
He'd walk the flower path to success.
Kim Il-sung was lost in dazzling dreams.
"Major Kim Seong-ju. The commander wants to see you."
Already, orders had come down.
Kim Il-sung rushed to the commander's office.
In the office, Commander Park Jeong-su waited with an inscrutable look.
"Did you make some mistake while attending His Excellency?"
"How could I? You saw it too, didn't you?"
Park Jeong-su remembered.
Il-sung had been tense, but his conduct was beyond reproach.
Then what was this?
Park Jeong-su tilted his head and handed over a personnel order.
"Wh-what's this?"
"Transfer orders, what else?"
Kim Il-sung read the trembling document.
Army personnel order.
Major Kim Seong-ju appointed as commandant of the 684th Unit at Aoji Coal Mine.
"A-Aoji Coal Mine?"
At those words, Kim Il-sung felt an inexpressible terror.
Only then did he understand the commander's odd look.
Why me?
What crime did I commit?
Kim Il-sung reread the orders several times.
He must have misread it.
His Excellency wouldn't do this after checking his name and background.
But rubbing his eyes changed nothing.
"Wh-why?"
Feeling wronged, Il-sung sent a mental letter to His Excellency.
"Your Excellency, I've been wronged like this. Please look into it just once. It's truly unjust."
But no reply came.
A few days later, Kim Il-sung had to head from the metropolis of Hanseong to the remote outpost of Aoji.
Aoji reeked of backwater desolation just from its name—a horrific place.
"Greetings, Commandant. Congratulations on your posting. Sorry about the quarters being like this. Make do somehow."
At the 684th Unit's site, what they called quarters was a half-built structure with a tent slapped over it.
Unbelievable.
The unit itself was a joke: most members were demilitarized convicts for major crimes (treason).
Former colonels and generals, so they showed no respect to Kim Il-sung.
"You're the commandant? You look slick and fresh-faced, not even dry behind the ears. What's that hump on your back?"
Even scratching their heads in a half-hearted salute was polite.
Most didn't bother.
"A mere major expecting salutes? This guy's lost his mind."
This wasn't a unit for duty.
It was exile—no, a grave meant to force a resignation.
"Fuck, fucking hell."
Kim Il-sung cursed under his breath.
He wanted to quit the army altogether, but he couldn't.
With his eldest son Jeong-il and the kids in tow, how would he feed them without his spoon?
Il-sung had that much sense.
From that day, Kim Il-sung's march of tribulations began.
"Quotas! We have to meet the quotas. Cooperate, please."
"Fine, bring booze. Then we'll do it. Okay?"
"No, if I get caught giving alcohol to prisoners, it's my head."
"Take it or leave it. We don't care."
Boiling inside, Il-sung smuggled liquor into Aoji.
The generals(?) passed it around, drank half, and gave him only half the quota he demanded.
"Hey, I kept my promise. Why are you doing this?"
"We only drank half. Don't like it? We'll puke it back up. Want that?"
Demilitarized convicts were impossible to reason with.
No wonder His Excellency smashed their heads.
"What are you lot doing? If they won't listen, make them work for it."
Il-sung vented on the easy marks: enlisted men and NCOs.
But they weren't pushovers.
"Hey, smother him."
In the dead of night as Il-sung slept, NCOs and enlisted burst in, threw a blanket over him, and beat him senseless.
"Is it okay to stomp him?"
"Just stomp. A guy who ends up here has no backing. Who cares."
Il-sung begged for mercy, but they pummeled him all night, leaving fractures in his limbs.
A week after taking command, Il-sung lay bedridden, prompting an investigator from above.
Normally, soldiers who touched an officer would get hell.
Il-sung hoped for that.
But Aoji was different.
Officers sent to Aoji Battalion were ones the army wanted to strip of uniform.
So investigators half-assed it and moved on.
"The commandant fell out of bed while sleeping and you found him in the morning?"
"That's right."
Everyone testified in unison.
"No! Those bastards smothered me with a blanket—"
Il-sung tried to shout more but shut up at the soldiers' murderous glares.
No sense the investigator was on his side.
"Nothing more to say? Investigation closed, then."
After the investigator left, Il-sung's status plummeted further.
Even recruits ignored him now.
As he hobbled on crutches, they snickered, no thought of saluting.
It was humiliating, infuriating.
Why did I end up like this?
Il-sung replayed how he got here but found no reason.
Nothing happened with His Excellency.
But clearly, he'd irked someone that day.
Not His Excellency, someone else.
That dog bastard.
Chewing curses, Il-sung vowed revenge on whoever dumped him here.
But his resolve dulled day by day.
Mocking convicts and soldiers.
Pressure from quotas above.
The endless horrific routine.
Finally, Il-sung harbored resentment toward His Excellency.
That bastard Lee Seong-jun.
If he'd paid proper attention, would I be stuck here?
All his fault.
Unable to contain his rage, Il-sung acted impulsively.
Out of ambition now.
"You're really joining our Communist Party?"
In these suspicious times, even party members eyed recruits oddly.
Il-sung said firmly.
"I'm joining to make revolution. Is that a crime?"
"If that's your will, comrade, let's get your face on file."
The Korean Communist Party accepted Kim Il-sung.
Thus vanished the Army officer Kim Seong-ju, once loyal(?) to the Republic.
In his place rose a revolutionary aflame with fury: Kim Il-sung.