I went to school until I was 13; I could not continue after that because of money problems at home. All schools beyond elementary education in Korea were private at that time. Later, the elementary school that I attended offered a few middle school classes for those who wanted to remain in school. So, I took these extra classes without entering a middle school.
One day my school teacher, who was Japanese, visited my home and asked me if I wanted to go to Japan to further my education and do something "good" for the Emperor. I was flattered, but I was too shy to his motives. So I said yes. When I showed up at the school ground for the appointment, at least 50 other girls had gathered there. My school was coeducational, so I thought many of my classmates including boys would be there. However, the only person I recognized was Lim Cook-ja, the smartest girl in my class. There were other girls older than; some were in their twenties.
We followed a soldier and boarded a train at the Jinju Station. The train stopped at Masan, which is about 40 miles south of Jinju, and picked up 50 more girls. All of us-about 100 girls-were keep overnight in a boarding house. The nest morning we arrived at the state capital of Pusan and found 50 additional girls waiting. So there were about 150 of us in total waiting to leave for Japan. As we gathered on the Capitol grounds, my classmate, Sook-ja, stood in front of the Governor and read a written statement. She said that we were all going to Japan to work in a factory to help the Emperor and his soldiers. After a brief ceremony, we were led to a harbor in Pusan and boarded a cargo ship. Everyone was quiet and did not say much. But as she ship started to move, many of us, especially the young ones like me, began to cry out loud, "Mother!" I became frightened not knowing what was in store for me. I saw two war ships and two planes following us from behind.
We arrived at Shimonoseki and boarded a train going to a factory in Doyamaki. Several Japanese women greeted us at the factory and showed us rooms where we could stay. About a dozen people were assigned to each room. The first day, they treated us nicely and showed us around the factory; it seemed as big as Masan. We all had supper together in a large cafeteria at the factory. During the first week, we received on-the-job training, learning to carve and shape iron with special tools.
On the last day of training, they sent us to a house in Shimonado for a picnic, and we saw lots of Korean people there. We went to one Korean house and asked for water and spent some time together. The next day, we were split into two groups, and the groups alternated between day and night shifts once a week. Food soon became so scarce that we could count the grains of rice in a bowl. One day a girl in our room stole food from the room where the other group was staying. Later we found out that those people were left with nothing to eat for that day. We pulled grass, roots, or anything we could find to eat. Many girls died of hunger and some went crazy. One night Sook-ja and I ran away and went to Shimonado, the place where we first stayed while working in the factory, but we were caught and were sent back to the factory. We fought hunger and labored at the factory for two more months without pay, and I thought I would die if I stayed any longer. So Sook-ja and I ran away again and were standing on a street corner looking for help.
I was picked up by a truck right away. I didn't see Sook-ja. There was one Japanese soldier and a driver. I saw a river on the left and a mountain on the right from the truck. The truck went to the mountain side and stopped. The soldier took me outside and raped me. Afterwards, they took me to a hut nearby. There were six Korean women in the hut. They were kind to me and gave me food. Every evening soldiers came in and stayed. I complained and asked them why they kept coming every night. The soldier ho raped me in the mountain often brought me food and medicine. His name was Gobayasi Dadaiho, and he was a sergeant in the military police. About three months later, Sergeant Gobayasi Dadaiho put all seven of us in a truck and took us to a new place. About twenty other Korean women were already at this camp, but the guards took them away several days after we arrived.
From that time on, my life became a nightmare. I was only 13 years old and did not even know the word "menstruation." Many soldiers had come and gone. I could not even begin to count the number of soldiers who raped me. A woman told me that since I was captured by the military police, I would not get paid for my sex slavery. Some other girls were paid, she said. These girls showed compassion and brought cucumbers and other vegetables for me to eat. We often cried together, wishing that some day we would be rescued by Korean soldiers. We lived there for about seven months.
I decided to run away and asked Sergeant Gobayasi Dadaiho for help. I took him to a small pond near the camp and pleaded with him to take me to Doyamaki. He said he would try to help me escape as long as I kept it a secret. But nothing happened. To our relief soldiers did not come to our camp for a couple of days. I went outside the next day and saw a group of Japanese soldiers gathered around, crying. I then knew that Japan had lost the war. I became hopeful that my nightmare would end soon. A few moments later Korean soldiers came in a truck. Since all of us were always looking for the right moment to escape, it did not take us long to prepare our leave.
The Korean soldiers took us to a house in Shimonado. The Korean man in the house promised me that he would take me to Korea when he returned from his trip, but he never came back. A Japanese woman who lived there took me to Osaka, and helped me board a boat bound for Korea. While on the boat, I realized that I was pregnant. I was happy that I was finally going home, but extremely scared and depressed about carrying the baby. I jumped from the crates and hit my stomach with fists to get rid of the baby. I even tried to kill myself in the bathroom. Since I was watched closely by a Japanese woman, all attempts failed.
I finally arrived in Korea and went to Namwon, Cholla Namdo Province. A Japanese woman delivered the baby there. It was a boy, and I felt that I was a peace with myself for the first time in my life. I named him Young-ju. The Japanese woman kindly took me and the baby to my home in Taegu before returning to Japan. I left the baby at home under the care of my relative and went to work as a waitress in a nearby city. The owner of the restaurant was a devout Catholic and allowed me to go home each Sunday to spend time with my baby.
One day at work, I got the news that Young-ju had died of pneumonia. I hurried home but found out that Young-ju was already buried. Then I saw another boy wearing his clothes. Even now, I cannot believe his death. I still believe he is alive somewhere looking for me.
Over the years, I had several marriage proposals. But I did not have enough strength to overcome my low self-esteem, guilt, and past nightmares to get married and raise a family.
The Korean War broke out when I was 24 years old. Many American soldiers came to Pusan, and I worked in an American military post in Pusan. I learned how to drive while working at the army barracks. The first driving school opened in Pusan at the time, and I was a member of its first graduation class. My duties soon included driving army vehicles transporting goods and personnel. I once had a marriage proposal from a high-ranking American officer, but again I had turned it down.
I am not 65 years old. I think back on my past nightmares working as a "comfort woman," I want to believe that it was just a terrible dream. And if it were not a dream, I would like to think of it as my fate, over which I had no control. But then, I often say to myself, "but I had every right to have gotten married and lived a happy life."
Interviewed in Seoul, November 2, 1994
Source:
Schellstede, Sangmie Choi, ed. Comfort Women Speak: Testimony
by Sex Slaves of the Japanese Military. New York: Holmes and Meier,
2000.