The following is a true story: Amidst the chaos of the Korean War, a gaunt North Korean refugee named Daesok Lee, barely sixteen, arrived at a refugee camp on the Imjin River. It had been over a month since he left his family behind in Pyongyang, during which time he had barely survived the merciless winter and advancing Communist Army during his exodus south.
Hunger led him outside the camp, against curfew, where he stumbled upon several South Korean soldiers carving up a dead cow. Taking pity on their shy new friend, one of the soldiers tossed Daesok some meat. As he turned to admire his gift, he was confronted by their captain, hidden behind aviator sunglasses. Realizing that he had broken orders, Daesok concealed his prize and silently awaited his punishment. But the captain instead offered a smile, asking the teenager about himself. The harmless interrogation lasted but five minutes, and the captain, with a pat on the back, departed. Confused, Daesok walked back to the camp, unaware of the significance of the meeting.
North and South Korean troops began mobilizing that night, preparing to advance into no-man’s land—exactly where the camp lay. About a thousand refugees were ordered into a shelter along the riverbed. In the darkness they waited, huddled together against the bitter cold.
Daesok was awakened by the glow of flashlights. Methodically, they probed the shelter until they finally settled on him. Blinded by the light, he fearfully awaited his fate. “Come with me,” a familiar voice echoed. And through the frosty night, he could see the captain, minus the sunglasses.
Navigating through the darkness, he hastily followed the captain to the edge of the camp. “Follow my footsteps exactly,” the captain warned, gingerly traversing a narrow path. Daesok obliged, chilled by the cold and the “land mine” signs surrounding him. At the edge of the minefield, the captain pointed to a small trail. “That leads south,” the captain said. Daesok turned to thank the captain, but he was already gone.
Suddenly, the roar of artillery shattered the silence. As he ran, Daesok glanced at the shelter as it erupted in a great inferno, obliterated by the pounding guns. Only later, as the adrenaline dissipated, did he come to the somber realization that he was the only refugee to survive. Years afterwards, he would try to find the man who had saved him. But he would never see the captain again.
Daesok now lives in America, six months from retirement after almost 30 years of service in the U.S. government. An old man now, he recently celebrated his 73rd birthday. He’s been telling me this story since I was little, and it has yet to lose its poignancy. I recently asked him why he thought he was saved. “Some say God heard my mother’s prayer,” he said. “But there are lots of mothers who pray for their children during wartime.” I suggested fate, but he disagreed. “I don’t want to call it that—it takes away from the captain’s intentionality. He knew he couldn’t save us all, but he tried to save one.” And through my father’s eyes, I see a glimpse of the stunned teenager, as mystified now as he was 57 years ago of the miracle that saved his life.
You can decide whether fate or divine power compelled the captain to save my father, but I made my mind up a long time ago that my father was saved by an angel. And while the images of halos and harps are certainly warming, if this story has any lesson, it’s that we need to redefine our concept of angels. My father wasn’t saved by an accidental fate, but rather the intentional audacity of the human spirit. His angel, he insists, was simply a man. Miracles, then, occur because we mortals do, in fact, possess the power to help those in despair and, despite overwhelming odds, choose to do what’s right. After more than 50 years, my father has concluded that he will never know why the captain saved him, a poor refugee among hundreds of others. In a war where millions perished, such a deed might be seen as insignificant—but for my family, it has made all the difference in the world.
On April 11, 2007, people worldwide will fast to highlight of the humanitarian crisis in North Korea. Thousands will skip meals to raise awareness of the current refugee crisis. For more information, visit http://www.fastfornk.com or email callink@gmail.com.
(This is my weekly column that appeared in the Daily Californian. You can also read it here)
