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**Sam-Dong Kim**



Age: 18 Gender: Male Occupation: Forced laborer in Japanese camp (in Hiroshima) Appearance: Typical Korean high school student; about 178cm height, little under average weight, fit due to hard labor, tanned skin, short, black hair and small eyes. Location: Japanese-Korean internment camp (in Japan) Personality/Quirks/Unique Personality Traits: Has a manly, passionate mind that leads him to become a little resistant. Has a tight bond with his family. Family: Mother and younger sister is in Korea. Father died due to his resistance against Japanese. Education: Educated in normal, public school in Korea until high school. Languages you speak: Korean, and can barely speak Japanese. Your main concerns at this time and in life: Safety of his mother and sister in Korea. How to end his suffering in the camp.

Journal Entry #1

Date: August 18th, 1938

It's been quite a while since the first day I smelled the dirt and heard the moans of the laborers in the Japanese base camp. It didn't take me long to realize that it was nearly impossible for us to receive humane treatment from the Japanese people in this camp. It was more like I had to thank them for not burying me alive in the first place. So why am I here anyways, half naked, sweating and panting with all the fellow laborers around me? It wasn't like I hadn't resisted when they tried to bring me here. My life was at least cozy and happy with my parents and my baby sister back in Korea. Different from the way I look, I used to play yut games and Korean jacks with my sister and often went out on the streets with my mom. Who could have imagined that dreadful day to come so quickly for me? It was about midnight when the Japanese soldiers broke down our front door with their guns in their hands, all pointing it at us. It was like they were searching for something (or someone now I think of it), and I knew what was coming when their focus was brought upon me. The next step...I really do not want to recall. My dad, always with his patriotism and hatred of the Japanese, made an attempt to attack. I can still hear my mother's scream and the cry of my baby sister. The soldiers kept on shouting out orders that I couldn't understand at all and the next think I know I being forced towards the Incheon port where I would be shipped to Japan as a laborer or soldier or whatever would benefit our enemy nation; Japan. After hours of darkness and fear, something amazing happened. As soon as I stepped on the land of the unpleasant camp in Hiroshima, I noticed that a majority of the laborers were boys about the same age as me. Among all the boys who were just staring blankly at me and the soldiers as if it was something that happened frequently, I saw a boy who was carefully observing me. At that time I was barely standing on my feet; the soldiers were basically abusing and dragging me like I was just another material to use for their labor. I was sweating and bleeding due to the severe, careless battering by the soldiers that apparently found my resistance very frustrating. Through my clogged ears and blurry sight, I saw Sun Ha, with some of his friends, run furiously towards us with rocks and clenched fists. I couldn't see properly, but I felt about two soldiers backed out and maybe I had a hint of hope at that time. But again, I heard the loud sound of gunfire. I heard Sun Ha scream in pain and that was when I fainted as well.

Journal Entry #2

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">Date: August 19th, 1938

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">After the incident with Sun Ha, I found myself lying down on a bed right next to a bed where Sun Ha was still unconscious. I noticed my sore forehead and arms were secured with bandages that smelled like medicine. I looked around the room that was quite clean but stung my noise with the unique smell of medicine and alcohol. That was when I met the medic, Saeng Myeong, who had taken voluntarily taken care of me, Sun Ha and his friends after the terrible incident with the soldiers. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">The first few weeks in this camp was hell for me. It was probably hell for all boys that were on the same boat as me. I already saw many pass out right in front of my eyes. The hot weather and unbearable amount of labor made it impossible to even have a break to worry about my family back in Korea. Sometimes at night on my uncomfortable, bulky bunk I could hear the girls cry for help in agony. I don't want to imagine what it is they suffer from. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">It's always interesting and painful at the same time to observe the Japanese and Koreans interacting with each other in such a way as in the Japanese concentration camps like the one I'm in right now. Everyday I have to watch girls cry and sob for mercy among the Japanese soldiers who are always hungry for more. And also the amount of people who just die before my eyes is stunning, but not so stunning compared to the whole population in this area. Although my family wasn't economically wealthy or comfortable i n Korea, we had pride and patriotism of our own nationality and our father always took the lead, showing us perfect examples to become a "man". I think this is what had effected me the most, and which makes me survive day after day in this dreadful camp.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">Journal Entry #3

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">Date: July 25th, 1943

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">After five years of adapting and evolving from a Korean to a Japanese laborer, now I am able to have very basic conversations with the Japanese kids and some of the soldiers. It hit me as something very sad since this proved the long period of separation from my family and also how my identity as a Korean was becoming more and more distant. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">These days, very different from the first few months in camp, I started to sense more tranquility and settledness among the Japanese army and the amount of work everyone was forced to do. It wasn't long until I heard from Sun Ha and also some of his and my friends that Japan was having the upper hand in war. I was also entertained by his experiences and stories in war, which always made me think, "Why couldn't we become a Korean soldier who could have fought for my own country? For my own family?", which eventually also lead me to think that maybe Sun Ha was suffering even more, to fight and kill people just for another nation that had done terrible things to our own. It was also hard to restrain myself from becoming emotional when Sun Ha when he told me about his leader Minoru Oda, the general of the army who had lead him to numerous wars and fights. This time, it reminded me of my father, who had been shot by one of Oda's most valuable soldier. What would have become of my sister and mother? It is hard for me to deny the fact that there is a possibility that they might be here in Japan, serving for this cruel nation like I am doing right now. When I heard Japan was winning and already expanding its territories just to make more and more victims like me, it brought me to a dilemma. Because what it gave us, laborers, was more peace and less work to do. It would also result in making Korea more stabilized and safe. But it was not right for me to smile and desire for more peace and more expansion of Japan's forces. I was a Korean and my father would have wanted me to make this part of life, as a laborer in Japan, an opportunity to serve as a patriotic citizen of Korea. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">I still cannot lose the hope that all of us may be set free to serve in our own country once the war is all over and maybe when the Japanese lose in this war. I still cannot lose the hope that my family, even though my father was killed by these people I am laboring for, could still be safe in Korea, maybe even waiting for me to come and save them.

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">Journal Entry #4

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">Date: April 29th, 1946

<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">I had never seen such a disaster in my life. It broke down everything in my world like it was nothing. Everything we had been working on for years, everyone that I had known and communicated with for years, and every hint of hope that I had been barely holding on to for years was destroyed. From about five days ago, the most disastrous atomic bombs were dropped in Japan; Hiroshima and Nagasaki were destroyed into particles. At first I thought of the Japanese as foolish and stubborn to disagree on the Postdam Declaration which brought this consequence, eventually forcing them to surrender. But again, I thought of what I would have done if I was a Korean and was forced to surrender in the midst of war. Would I throw away my pride and sacrifice the nation's reputation for our citizens? Or would we all stand up against it just for our passion? I really did not know. But it didn't matter now. I was just one of the many Japanese laborers and now was just the end of our suffering. <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">The bomb also had an impact on Hiroshima's intern camp and none of us, even the soldiers could not avoid this. It was so fast and the next thing I knew was that I was armless and disabled to see nor speak properly. With the poor vision I had, among the dust and fog and the rocks that were still falling from their places, I recognized my friends and even some of the Japanese soldiers who were mangled everywhere. I can't recall what happened next but I think once again the medic Saeng Myeong barely saved me to live a little longer than supposed. I also remember Sun Ha panting and looking very worried over me but he too was busy looking for his fellows. I also watched Saeng Myeong fight himself whether he should save the Japanese soldier Fuji Yamaguchi who had also been severely injured too. After short minuted of hesitation and reluctance, the medic calmly treated the helpless soldier, now merely an injured victim; a weak, powerless Japanese receiving help from a Korean. Usually I would have wondered why the medic would do such a thing for that soldier who had forced me out of Korea in the first place, what I would have done instead, but now it seemed all useless to me. What difference would that make anyways? Now there was about to be another powerful nation which would take in another group of innocent people for their own benefit. I would be wasted in the end. Would I be able to even see my family once before I die?