“Please Don’t Die”

I continued to devote myself to prayer, and I came to feel intuitively
that the time had come for me to marry. Because I had decided
to follow God’s path, everything about my life had to be done in
accordance with God’s will. Once I came to know something through
prayer, I had no choice but to follow. So I went to one of my aunts who
had much experience in arranging marriages and asked her to introduce
me to a suitable wife. This is how I met Seon Gil Choi, the daughter of a
prominent Christian family in Jung-ju.
She was a well-raised woman from an upright family. She had attended
only elementary school, but she had a character that disliked
having to cause even the slightest trouble to others. Her character was
so strong and her Christian faith so deep that she had been imprisoned
at age sixteen for refusing to comply with a Japanese colonial requirement
that all Koreans worship at Shinto shrines. I was told that I was the
twenty-fourth man to be considered as her groom, so it seems she was
very selective about whom she would marry. Once I returned to Seoul,
however, I completely forgot I had even met the woman.
My plan after completing my studies in Japan had been to travel to
Hailar, China, a city on the border between China, Russia, and Mongolia.
My school in Tokyo had arranged a job for me with the Manchuria
Electric Company, and my plan was to work in Hailar for about three
years while learning Russian, Chinese, and Mongolian. Just as I had
earlier sought out a school that would teach me Japanese so that I could
win over the Japanese, I wanted to go to this border city and learn a
number of foreign languages as a way of preparing myself for the future.
It was becoming increasingly clear, however, that Japan was heading for
defeat in the war. I decided that it would be better for me not to go to
Manchuria. So I stopped by a branch office of the Manchuria Electric
Company in Andung (present-day Dandong) and submitted paperwork
to cancel my job placement. I then headed for my hometown. When I
arrived, I found that the aunt whom I had asked to arrange my marriage
was in great distress. Apparently, the woman I had met was refusing to
consider anyone other than me as her partner and was causing great
trouble for her family. My aunt took me by the arm and led me to the
Choi family home.
I explained to Seon Gil Choi clearly about the kind of life I intended
to lead.
“Even if we marry now, you should be prepared to live without me
for at least seven years,” I told her.
“Why should I do that?” she responded.
I told her, “I have a task that is more important than family life. In
fact, my reason for getting married has to do with my ability to carry
out God’s providence. Our marriage needs to develop beyond the family
to the point where we can love the nation and all humanity. Now that
you know that this is my intention, do you truly want to marry me?”
She responded with a firm voice: “It doesn’t matter to me. After I met
you, I dreamed of a field of flowers in the moonlight. I am certain that
you are my spouse sent from Heaven. I can endure any difficulty.”
I was still concerned, and I pressed her several times. Each time she
sought to set my mind at ease, saying, “I am willing to do anything, as
long as I am able to marry you. Don’t worry about anything.”
My future father-in-law passed away a week before our scheduled
wedding date, so our wedding was delayed. We were finally able to hold
our ceremony on May 4, 1944. Normally May is a time for beautiful
spring days, but on our wedding day it rained heavily. Rev. Ho Bin Lee
of the Jesus Church officiated. Later, after Korea’s liberation from Japan,
Reverend Lee would go to South Korea and establish an ecumenical
seminary called the Jung-ang Seminary. My wife and I began our married
life in my boarding room in Heuksok Dong. I truly loved her and
took such good care of her that the mistress of the boarding house
would say, “Oh my, you must really love her, since you treat her as if you
were handling an egg.”
I got a job at the Kyongsong branch of the Kashima Gumi Construction
Company in Yongsan in order to support our family while I also
carried out church work. Then, one day in October, the Japanese police
suddenly stormed into our home.
“Do you know so-and-so of Waseda University?” they demanded.
Without even giving me a chance to reply, they pulled me out of the
house and took me to the Kyounggi Province Police Station. I was being
detained because one of my friends had been arrested for being a communist
and had mentioned my name to his interrogators.
Once inside the police station, I was immediately subjected to torture.
“You’re a member of the Communist Party, aren’t you? Weren’t you
working with that rascal while you were studying in Japan? Don’t even
bother trying to deny it. All we have to do is put in a call to Tokyo Police
Headquarters and they will tell us everything. You can give us the list of
party members or die like a dog.”
They beat me with a table and broke all four of its legs against my
body, but I refused to give them the names of the people who had
worked with me in Japan.
The Japanese police then went to where I was living with my wife,
turned it upside down, and discovered my diaries. They brought the
diaries to me and went through them page by page, demanding I tell
them about the names they found. I denied everything, even though
I knew they might kill me for my silence. The police stomped on me
mercilessly with their spiked military boots until my body was as limp
as if I were dead. Then they hung me from the ceiling and swung me
back and forth. Like a slab of meat hanging in a butcher shop, I swung
this way and that as they pushed me with a stick. Soon, blood filled my
mouth and began dripping onto the cement floor below me. Each time
I lost consciousness they would pour a bucket of water over me. When
I regained consciousness the torture would begin again. They held my
nose and stuck the spout of a teakettle into my mouth, forcing me to
swallow water. When my stomach became bloated with water they laid
me face up on the floor, looking like a frog, and began stomping on my
abdomen with their military boots. The water would be forced up my
esophagus and I would vomit until everything turned black. On the
days after I had been tortured this way my esophagus felt as though it
was on fire. The pain was so great I could not bear to swallow a single
mouthful of soup. I had no energy and would just lie face down on the
floor, completely unable to move.
The war was coming to an end, and the Japanese police were desperate.
They tortured me in ways words cannot describe. I endured,
though, and never gave them the names of any of my friends. Even as
I was going in and out of consciousness, I made sure not to give them
what they wanted. Finally tiring of torturing me, the Japanese police
sent for my mother. When she arrived my legs were so swollen that I
couldn’t stand on my own. Two policemen had to put my arms over
their shoulders and help me walk to the visiting room. My mother had
tears in her eyes even before she set eyes on me.
“Endure just a little longer,” she said. “Mother will somehow get you
a lawyer. Please endure, and don’t die before then.”
My mother saw how my face was covered with blood, and she
pleaded with me.
“It doesn’t matter how much good you are trying to do,” she said. “It’s
more important that you keep yourself alive. No matter what happens,
don’t die.”
I felt sorry for her. I would have liked to call out, “Mother,” embrace
her, and cry out loud with her. I couldn’t do that, though, because I
knew perfectly well why the Japanese police had brought her there. My
mother kept pleading with me not to die, but all I could do in return
was blink my badly swollen and bloodied eyes.
During the time I was held in the Kyounggi Province Police Station, it
was Mrs. Gi Bong Lee, the mistress of the boarding house, who kept me
supplied with food and clothing. She wept every time she visited me. I
would comfort her, saying, “Endure a little longer. This era is coming to
an end. Japan will be defeated soon. You don’t need to cry.” These were
not empty words. God had given me this belief. As soon as the police
released me in February of the following year, I took all my diaries that
had been stacked in the boarding house to the bank of the Han River.
There I burned them so they would not cause any further trouble to
my friends. If I had not done this, I knew the diaries could eventually
be used by the police to harm others. My body did not recover easily
from the torture. I had blood in my feces for quite a while. Mrs. Lee, the
boarding house mistress, and her sister helped me to nurse my body
back to health with great sincerity and dedication.
Finally, on August 15, 1945, Korea was liberated from Japan. This was
the day every Korean had been waiting for. It was a day of tremendous
emotion. Shouts of “Mansei!” and people waving the Taeguk flag covered
the entire peninsula. I could not join in the festivities, however. My
heart was deadly serious because I could foresee the terrible calamity
that was about to befall the Korean peninsula. I went alone into a small
anteroom and immersed myself in prayer. Soon after that, my fears
were realized. Although liberated from Japanese rule, our homeland
was cut in two at the 38th parallel. In the North, a communist regime
that denied the existence of God came to power.