Shin Aeja’s Dream by Alzo David-West

Art: Fragments I by Linda Chapman

SHIN AEJA’S DREAM

Amid a growth of lush green moss and grass, with scattered islands and valleys of pebbles, sand, and stones, the ladybug crawled determinedly up the fern, her smooth red shell with black spots glowing brightly under the effusive warmth of the hot afternoon sun.

Climbing over and under the leafy fronds, past the spores, up the stem, and through the fronds again, the small insect seemed only to have one goal, to reach the top of the flowerless plant that was now moving in agitated circles in a cool, vigorous gush of wind.

The ladybug lost her balance for a moment, but her tiny obstinate legs persisted, repeating past motions, regaining lost paths full of upward twists and turns.

As she neared the apexes of the fern, where the leaves were younger and less firm, the ladybug suddenly fell, tumbling gently into the soft moss that cushioned her abrupt descent.

With neither dismay nor disappointment in her rapid steps, the ladybug moved forward through the hilly moss, passed the garden spider and the nomadic ant, and over the twigs that rested like barricades, crawling toward the giant lavender forest until she was absorbed in its shadows.

* * *

Shin Aeja of Red Flag Women’s Company under Korean People’s Army Unit No. 1224 entered the courtroom with the panel of KPA Assessors. She was dressed in uniform and saluted nervously before she was given permission to sit.

“Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja,” spoke the head Assessor, “in accordance with our People’s Army Law, you are entitled to testify in defense of the action you took against your company chief sergeant on 20 May 1996 after the incident at Cooperative Farm No. 216. Do you choose to testify?”

“I choose to testify on my own behalf, Comrade People’s Army Assessor.”

“Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja, be reminded that in accordance with our People’s Army Law, you are bound by duty to the leader, the army, and the people to tell the truth of the events that occurred at Cooperative Farm No. 216. Do you understand your filial duty as a daughter of our country?”

“I understand my duty, Comrade People’s Army Assessor.”

“You may begin your testimony.”

“I am Private Shin Aeja of Red Flag Women’s Company of KPA Unit No. 1224. I joined the Korean People’s Army when I was sixteen. I have served for two years. My commander is Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong.

“On 19 May 1996 at 0545 hours, our company arrived by truck at the town. We had been informed about a disturbance there. Our company commander explained to us the day before that, following the collapse of the food distribution system in the region, unreliable elements had surfaced, and the people were suffering abuses from violent rogues and gangsters who were looting the people’s economy.

“But when we arrived, we saw no one there. The barracks were completely abandoned; the offices, the children’s school, and the library were empty; and all the stores were cleared out. It was as if everyone had simply disappeared.

“We had our orders, nevertheless. And on Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong’s command, we continued searching everywhere, having divided our two-hundred armed company women into teams of ten, going through all the buildings, going through all the alleyways, going through all the homes, going through all the garbage areas. Yet the only rogues we saw that morning were the dust in the cold air.

“My team had combed our designated area in the town for almost four hours, and we were convinced the place was deserted until we came to Cooperative Farm No. 216. We had heard a noise coming from somewhere inside, but we couldn’t tell what it was. We thought it was animals, badgers or raccoon dogs, which was impossible, since not even a bird was singing that morning.

“Our radio operator contacted Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong for instructions, and we were told to await another team in case the farm was where the rogues and the gangsters were headquartered and abusing our people.

“After half an hour, the other army women arrived. We advanced slowly into the farm compound, first a scouting team of three women, including myself, followed by the others in successive groups of five so that the forty of us wouldn’t be susceptive to sniper fire or a surprise assault.

“Our women were very scared, and one private, younger than me, was shivering so badly that she soiled herself. We were resolved that this was a do-or-die mission; however, none of us had any kind of combat or rescue experience. We are a labor reinforcement company …”

Shin Aeja interrupted her testimony, silent and breathing heavily. The panel of KPA Assessors looked at each other.

“Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja, continue your testimony,” ordered the head Assessor.

She collected herself and continued.

“Yes, Comrade People’s Army Assessor. … My scouting team was about twenty meters in advance of the others, and we entered deeper into the cooperative farm compound, following the strange noise until we came to a smell, a very foul smell of manure.

“We thought again it must have been animals making the noise, since it now sounded like burrowing. We thought some animals might have been left on the farm. And finally, the noise and the smell led us to a wooden gate.

“Comrade Private Ryang Jisoo and Comrade Private Kim Sookhyon were signaling to me for us to fall back and return with more armed women. I gave the two of them the sign that we could not afford to endanger the others. The sunlight was getting stronger and warmer and the smell more and more unpleasant. I was holding my machine gun and tried to look through the tight slats of the gate.

“I couldn’t make out what I was seeing through the slats, just a dark pile of something. I was shivering.

“We had arrived at the gate at 0921 hours and waited for a while, listening to the noise. I felt a strong urge to defecate, and there was a piercing ache in my heart, but I was able to control myself. We waited for a while.

“By 0946 hours, the three of us finally decided we had better see what was behind the gate. I slowly pushed it open as I was guiding my rifle sights. I could not believe what I saw. Comrade Ryang Jisoo and Comrade Kim Sookhyon could not move.

“We had opened the gate completely, and before us, were piles of compost heaps, with several hundred townspeople who no longer looked like people, burrowing into the dung like beetles and cockroaches. And they were eating it … eating the dung. Around the heaps were the decaying and mummified bodies of children and old people and People’s Army men whose mouths were gaping widely, as if they had tried to consume the air.

“Some people looked at us, their eyes blank, emaciated, and empty, their filthy paper-thin skins covered with sores, boils, and pus. Others did not notice we were there, or maybe they thought we were not really there.

“Comrade Ryang Jisoo began hyperventilating when she saw a rag-covered youth swallowing clumps of dung, and Comrade Kim Sookhyon was shaking so much that her machine gun was waving around dangerously. I ordered our scouting team to fall back ….”

Shin Aeja interrupted herself again. She was crying now.

“Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja, I should remind you to continue your testimony,” said the KPA Assessor.

“I … shall, Comrade People’s Army Assessor,” she said in a choked voice.

She wiped her tears with a handkerchief and resumed the testimony.

“Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong’s team had arrived at the cooperative farm and joined the forty army women waiting for us when we returned, running to deliver our report. Comrade Ryang Jisoo broke down completely, screaming hysterically that the People’s Army men were massacred. Comrade Kim Sookhyon was panicking uncontrollably also, saying that the starving survivors we found were reactionaries who killed off the children and the old people in the town and were burying them under compost heaps.

“I tried to explain that this was all wrong, that this was not what we saw. But the company women were all wrapped in terror now, and the sense of fear was so deep and overwhelming that Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong declared my protest insubordination and proceeded to order a shoot-to-kill ambush of the townspeople.

“Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong led the attack, and everyone in the compost area was machine-gunned to death. I did not participate in the attack on our people.

“After everyone was killed, it became clear to Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong and the company women that something was not right. At that moment, our chief sergeant ordered an immediate search of Cooperative Farm No. 216 for evidence of organized crime against the army, the people, and the state.

“At around 1054 hours, another team of company women arrived with a logbook written by a People’s Army officer. We never found the officer. His notes explained that all food reserves in the town had been depleted since the collapse of the food distribution system, that the local government ceased to function, that people were beginning to die from starvation, first the elderly and the very young, and that several of his men and the townspeople had finally decided to go into the mountains to forage for anything they could bring back to eat … roots, bark, mushrooms, anything they could find. The log was written three months earlier.

“After this, it became clear to all of us that there were no rogues or gangsters in the town and that our inexperienced company had murdered our own hungry, innocent people.

“At 1200 hours that day, I visited Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong’s temporary office at the town library, demanding that we take responsibility for what had happened at Cooperative Farm No. 216.

“Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong said no one would be blamed for anything, that the reported disturbance in the town was confirmed and resolved. She said the violent gangsters who murdered the People’s Army men and commandeered the last of the food stock were summarily executed for the safety of the people in accordance with state law. I was reminded of my alleged act of ‘insubordination,’ and I was told that it would be forgiven if I understood the interests of our company based on mutual trust.”

At this, the KPA Assessors began discussing among themselves in whispers. Shin Aeja observed them. The head Assessor said she should wait a while. A few minutes passed.

* * *

“Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja,” the Assessor resumed, “our panel notices a discrepancy in your testimony and the incident report you submitted to the People’s Army Crimes Department after you and Red Flag Women’s Company returned to People’s Army Unit 1224 Barracks Compound. According to the letter of your original report—the department office has provided us with official copies—it says that you encountered a suspected rogue element in the compost area at Cooperative Farm No. 216 and that Comrade Kim Sookhyon fired on the aggressor after you gave an order to shoot.”

“Yes, Comrade People’s Army Assessor,” Shin Aeja responded.

“We must remind you,” the KPA Assessor said sternly, “that you are bound by People’s Army Law to tell the truth of the real events that transpired on 19 May 1996 at Cooperative Farm No. 216 and that false testimony before our People’s Army panel and false incrimination of your fellow company women shall result in capital punishment according to state and army law. Do you understand the seriousness of this matter, Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja?”

“I understand, Comrade People’s Army Assessor.”

“Our panel demands an explanation for the discrepancy, Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja. What happened after you and your scouting team opened the gate at Cooperative Farm No. 216?”

She tried to compose herself, but her hands and face were shaking involuntarily, and her heart was beating rapidly.

“Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja, do not waste the time of our panel. How do you account for the discrepancy in your testimony and the incident report?”

“Please forgive me, Comrade People’s Army Assessor,” she replied. “It is not a discrepancy. I have only made an error of omission in my testimony. I … I reported that we encountered a suspected rogue element, yes. But I, in fact, did not give Comrade Kim Sookhyon a shoot-to-kill order at the cooperative farm. My testimony is not discrepant. I made an error of omission only because … it is so emotionally difficult.

“We,” she paused, thinking, “You see, we were overcome with panic by the horrifying and terrible sight we saw that day at the cooperative farm: the corpses everywhere and the starving, hungry, dying people eating the dung from the compost heaps. We … could barely control ourselves, and if we said anything at the time, our words were mostly incoherent.

“You see, after Comrade Ryang Jisoo began hyperventilating at the sight of the wasted youth who was madly swallowing the dung, Comrade Kim Sookhyon was overcome with so much fear that she could not stop trembling and waving her machine gun unsteadily. I ordered our scouting team to fall back … and the youth noticed us and started approaching us.

“He was nothing more than bones and sagging skin and boils, and he was coming to us, saying something we couldn’t understand. At the time, I … we may have thought he was a suspected rogue, and that is what I said in my incident report. But I did not order to kill. I did not. Comrade Kim Sookhyon began screaming frantically as the boy limped toward us, as we were walking backward in our half-frozen steps. His hands were begging for something, and they were dirty, so dirty.

“I cannot see his face anymore, because it was at that moment that I ordered Comrade Kim Sookhyon to shoot a warning round to tell him to stay back, except that she released a full magazine of automatic fire into his chest and head, exploding everything … everywhere … completely …”

Shin Aeja started crying loudly now and buried her face in her hands and knees. The KPA Assessors were silent, sitting, staring, and allowed her to release the tears.

* * *

Chief Sergeant No Aegyong and her team had arrived at the cooperative farm when Shin Aeja and the scouting party returned to the other women soldiers, who were awaiting their report, uneasy and worried after hearing the gunfire.

Ryang Jisoo was running, “The army men are massacred! The army men are massacred!” followed by Kim Sookhyon, who was panicking uncontrollably.

“Reactionary gangsters killed the children and old people! They are burying them in compost heaps!” she cried out rapidly.

The army women were aghast and shocked, their faces turning quickly at each other. Everything was happening so quickly.

“No—no, Comrade Chief Sergeant! This is all wrong!” Shin Aeja shot out from behind her comrades.

“We saw it!” Ryang Jisoo screamed. “We saw it with our own eyes!”

“Yes—yes!” added Kim Sookhyon in rapid turn. “Monsters! They are all monsters! They are American imperialist monsters killing our people! They are killing our own people! Help them—help them—help them!”

Chief Sergeant No Aegyong gave an immediate order to rush the compost area in rapid assault formation.

“Comrade Army women,” she called out boldly, “follow my lead! Long l—”

“No—no—Comrade Chief Sergeant!” Shin Aeja shouted, “No!”

“Get out of the way!” she yelled, bridge-hand striking the barrel of her handgun on Shin Aeja’s cheekbone.

The sixty-strong women soldiers armed with machine guns charged the compost area, discharging round after round of automatic fire. All the women were screaming as they were shooting, convinced they were all going to die in a suicide mission.

Shin Aeja lay on the ground, crawling in the dust, hearing the noise and seeing the pictures in her mind of the hundred, starving, screamless deaths and bursting bodies and shattering bones.

The faceless, emaciated youth with dirty, pleading hands was flashing continuously in her mind, and she was beating herself, beating herself savagely on the ground.

After ten or fifteen minutes, the gunfire died away, and everything became very quiet again. The sun was rising higher in the sky.

The broken skin of her right cheek was stinging as she rose from the ground, walking slowly to the gate, where she saw the company women gasping, heaving, sobbing, vomiting in huddles.

She noticed Ryang Jisoo and Kim Sookhyon sitting at the foot of the gate, their hands over their mouths, eyes, and ears.

Chief Sergeant No Aegyong strode through the stench and mess, inspecting what remained.

“They are unarmed,” she shouted. “They are unarmed.”

Several of the company women gasped louder.

Shin Aeja saw the chief sergeant call Ryang Jisoo and Kim Sookhyon to the compost heap on which she was standing. She punched them in their stomachs and ordered them to be taken somewhere.

Just then, the chief sergeant saw Shin Aeja at the gate, the raw flesh on her cheek, and the coagulations.

Another team of KPA women arrived at the cooperative farm, staggered in face of the awfulness, and gave Chief Sergeant No Aegyong a logbook from a KPA officer whose last entry was written in February.

By noon, the women’s company had set up camp at the town library, where Chief Sergeant No Aegyong and four radio operators made an office and secretariat. They were preparing reports.

Shin Aeja arrived and was struggling with the operators to let her see their commander.

“Comrade Private Shin Aeja, what are you doing here? You must follow army communication procedures if you want a meeting.”

“Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong, I must talk to you about what we did at the farm this morning,” she said urgently.

“It’s okay,” the chief sergeant told the operators. “Come in.” She closed the door of the periodicals directorate.

“Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong,” Shin Aeja said at attention, “we …”

“What’s this about?” the chief sergeant demanded. “You mean our mission? It is accomplished. We confirmed the presence of the gangsters who murdered the People’s Army men and commandeered the last of the food stock, and they were summarily executed. Sadly, none of the townspeople survived their gruesome terror and violations.”

“Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong,” Shin Aeja started again, “we made a mistake. Our company has committed a serious crime. We must take responsibility for our crime.”

Chief Sergeant No Aegyong looked at the door.

“Comrade Private Shin Aeja, you must be overwhelmed. Recall your act of insubordination today. We are fortunate that what you did was not conspiratorial to us and our mission. Everything is resolved now. Our company has forgiven your failure to follow army protocol. I hope you understand our relationship based on mutual trust.”

* * *

“Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja,” said the head KPA Assessor, “we would ask you to resume your testimony from the point when your chief sergeant alleged insubordination.”

“Y-es,” she replied in a damp, broken voice. “I … I left Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong’s office and the secretariat with so much anxiety and dizziness that I couldn’t bear it, and when I stepped out of the building, the glare of the sun hit my eyes, and I fell down the stairs.

“I landed on the outer side of my right foot, and there was a tearing pain for a moment and then I could not feel my foot for a while, and I dragged myself somewhere, where there was a shade. When I looked at my watch, it was 1429 hours. I do not know how an hour and a half had passed by, except that I was very faint and thirsty.

“More company women were in the area now, and everyone was moving busily all around the place. Some of the trucks were headed in the direction of Cooperative Farm No. 216, but I didn’t want to think about the place anymore. I just wanted to go away somewhere.

“I got up, and my foot started to feel like it was on fire, and I saw that I was sweating heavy drops that were burning my cheek.

“I looked ahead, passed the company camp, toward the deserted town homes, and I began walking there, limping in their direction. I walked and I walked, with the terrible pain and the heat of the sun and then … I have no memory of it. It was like someone turned a switch.

“I found myself at People’s Army Unit 1224 Barracks Compound Hospital when I awoke at 2144 hours, and my wounds had been treated. Our nurses were congratulating me for the fight Red Flag Women’s Company put up against the rogues and the gangsters who had terrorized the people. Our nurses were calling us a company of true women heroes for suffering only one injured soldier under the ambush of hundreds of violent men armed with mortars, shoulder-mounted rockets, and machine guns.

“Comrade People’s Army Assessors, it was all a lie,” Shin Aeja appealed. “People’s Army Unit 1224 did not know the truth of what happened at the town, at Cooperative Farm No. 216, about the reality behind the gate and our accident and the innocent people we killed. I knew what happened, and I was resolved that our company take responsibility for our serious crime and Comrade Chief Sergeant No Aegyong’s conspiracy of concealment and misinformation. According to People’s Army Law Article No. …”

“Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja,” interrupted the head Assessor, “we are aware of our People’s Army Law. Continue your testimony.”

“I called for Comrade Nurse So Miran, who is older than me and who is my friend and who is connected to the People’s Army Crimes Department by family members, and it was through her that I was able to know the procedures for the incident report.

“Comrade Nurse So Miran could not believe me at first, but after my detailed explanations, she could see that the official story about the mission, the ambush, and my injuries were fabrications.

“We could not take action immediately since there was a curfew, but after some more discussion, she found a telephone and called her husband and brother who rank highly. People’s Army investigators arrived at our barracks the next afternoon at 1542 hours.”

* * *

“Aeja, if what you say is true, then it means a lot of trouble. I hope you understand what you will be getting us into.”

“How can we kill our own people in cold blood, Miran? How can anyone get away with this? … She threatened me … and she lied …. Is it reputation that compels this deception? Is it rank and privilege? How can we allow this?”

“Aeja, you must be careful with what you say. You are young, and young people are apt to see things one-sidedly.”

“One-sidedly? It’s an excuse, Miran, an excuse! Jisoo and Sookhyon lost all sense and reported wrongly; Sookhyon killed the boy; our company killed everyone; and the chief sergeant covered everything up! They should pull out her neck and drop it in her shit!”

“No, no, Aeja, you cannot say things like this. You mustn’t be rude. It will be misunderstood. You must control yourself, or we will all suffer for it.”

“I am suffering now, Miran. I am suffering more than you can imagine. How are we women heroes? My heart is exploding, and the boy’s face is exploding … his eyes like graves … but he was not dead. He was not dead. We killed everyone, sister. We killed everyone. Can’t you see I’m drowning?”

“Aeja, Aeja, you must be calm. Please be calm.”

“Miran, what’s the matter with me? Has anything happened to me?”

…

“Oh, Aeja … you are weeping like my own child, Aeja. I am afraid of this whole matter … I am afraid, but the grief will turn your heart to ashes if we don’t do something, won’t it? … You may be right, I know. But can we afford it? Our company? Our unit? … Do you really want my help? … I must tell them myself, my husband and my brother, so they will hear you out. I would be able to explain the reason, and they could make an order. But this is so difficult! Oh, why all this trouble tonight? Did the chief sergeant really say what she did? Did she really hit the gun against your face? She should have listened to you in the first place. You were in charge of the scouting team … Ah, this is so terrible! It was certainly a crime. What kind of women do we have in our country today?”

“Miran …”

“Oh, why am I crying like you? Why am I crying like you, Shin Aeja?”

* * *

“Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja,” said the head KPA Assessor, “I will read the following words from your incident report for your corroboration.”

Incident Report No. 04150

Incident Date: 19 May 1996

Report Date: 20 May 1996

On 19 May 1996, I, Private Shin Aeja of Red Flag Women’s Company of KPA Unit No. 1224, arrived by truck with my company at specified township at approximately 0545 hours. Our company led by Chief Sergeant No Aegyong was dispatched after an army report said rogues had taken over the town food supply and were exploiting the people.

We found the town to be deserted, and Chief Sergeant No ordered a full-scale search with our two-hundred-member company divided into teams of ten. I led a three-member scouting team with Private Ryang Jisoo and Private Kim Sookhyon. After about 3 hours and 45 minutes, we arrived at Cooperative Farm No. 216, where we heard undecipherable noises.

My scouting team entered the farm compound in advance of our company team and came to a wooden gate at approximately 0921 hours. We found the noises to be originating from this location. At approximately 0946 hours, we entered the vicinity, which was a compost ground, and discovered about one hundred emaciated people and many corpses.

At this point, a suspected rogue, a teenaged male, approached us. I ordered Private Kim to fire a shot. Private Kim killed the suspected aggressor. We hurried back to the teams, where the chief sergeant was waiting for us. I was to deliver a report on our encounter, but Private Ryang and Private Kim overrode my authority and said we were under attack.

When Chief Sergeant No ordered an assault on the farm compound, I protested strongly, after which the chief sergeant struck me violently with her handgun, causing me to collapse with a laceration on my right cheek. I was on the ground, dazed, and I heard the assault on the cooperative farm, which lasted for approximately 15 minutes.

Afterward, I went to the scene of the assault. All the people I had seen alive were dead. Chief Sergeant No shouted that the people were unarmed. She beat Private Ryang and Private Kim and ordered for them to be detained. I do not know the present whereabouts of Private Ryang and Private Kim. Chief Sergeant No ordered a search of the compound.

At approximately 1054 hours, a KPA officer’s logbook was found. What I gathered from the company women who found the logbook is that the town had run out of food and that people were dying. In response, the officer, some men, and townspeople went into the mountains to find food. I was told that the last entry in the logbook was dated February.

At approximately 1200 hours, I went to Chief Sergeant No’s temporary office at the town library to explain that our company committed a serious crime. Chief Sergeant No said to me, “Remember your insubordination. We are fortunate you are not a conspirator. Everything is resolved. I hope you understand our relationship based on mutual trust.”

I left the chief sergeant’s office with great anxiety, and I broke my foot on some stairs. I had become very faint by then and rested in the shade of a building. Sometime after 1429 hours, I collapsed from fatigue and dehydration. When I awoke, it was approximately 2144 hours, and I was recuperating at KPA Unit 1224 Barracks Compound Hospital.

Upon hearing from nurses at the barracks hospital that our company was being praised for the incident at Cooperative Farm No. 216, I contacted the KPA Crimes Department on 20 May 1996 to report Chief Sergeant No’s conspiracy of concealment against the party, the army, and the state. Red Flag Women’s Company killed our own innocent people.

End of Report

“Do you corroborate these words, Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja?”

“I corroborate the words in my incident report, Comrade People’s Army Assessor.”

* * *

“Good morning, Aeja. Did you sleep well?”

“Miran. How are you?”

“Are you feeling any better from last night?”

“I had many dreams, Miran.”

“Do you remember them?”

“No, not all, but I remember the last one from just before I woke up.”

“What was it about?”

“I dreamed I was my brother.”

…

“I can tell it to you if you want to listen.”

“I would like to know.”

“I dreamed I was my older brother, and I was resting in his small apartment in the afternoon. Someone was knocking continuously on the door, but brother was too tired to get up. He heard a voice calling out, and it was our cousin who has no father, telling brother to open up.

“Soon after, there were footsteps coming up the stairwell, and it was our mother and brother’s wife. Mother died three years ago, but mother was there.

“Mother, brother’s wife, and our cousin were talking, and mother started opening the door. When brother heard this, he got up and went into the mattress closet so that our cousin wouldn’t see him.

“Mother told our cousin to wait outside and found brother lying down with his eyes closed as if nothing was unusual and said our cousin wanted to talk about his father. Mother said our cousin knew that brother knew his father’s name.

“Brother had seen some letters, but could not recall the man’s name anymore and said, ‘He has no father. He doesn’t know he exists. There is nothing I can do. There is nothing we can do. I am not here.’

“After this, brother woke up and realized he was dreaming. It was late afternoon. Brother went to the bathroom to rinse his mouth and brush his teeth. I felt the water run down brother’s arm. ….”

“What could it mean, Aeja?”

“I don’t know, Miran. But it is 0552 hours now, and we can hear the small birds.”

“Aeja, the investigators will come this afternoon. They will be talking to you to file an incident report, and they will be detaining the chief sergeant for questioning. My husband said the investigation will take maybe three to five months since they have a lot of work at the department. I hope you have done the right thing, Aeja.”

* * *

“Have you any final words for your testimony?” asked the head KPA Assessor.

“I … I have said what I have said not to cause any trouble, Comrade People’s Army Assessors. I have said it because our people should not suffer for a mistake that is turned into a lie. What I saw at Cooperative Farm No. 216 and what happened are what really happened. It was a terrible mistake, but it was also a terrible crime. We must take responsibility for our crime.”

“Comrade Army Woman Shin Aeja,” spoke the head KPA Assessor, “what you saw at Cooperative Farm No. 216 is what the American imperialists have reduced our people to. Today, as we speak, the ‘gentlemen’ on Wall Street and the comfortable bankers in Washington D.C. are fictitiously telling the whole world that it is the policy of our party, army, and state to starve and murder our people. We deny these immoral accusations that slander and defame us. We are confronting unprecedented difficulties, ordeals, and international sanctions now, and we are surrounded everywhere by hungry wolves who would crawl through a mouse hole to do us harm. Our people must be ready for any intrusion and any attack and deal with the traitors in our midst. In accordance with our People’s Army Law, our Korean People’s Army Assessors will evaluate your testimony today and judge the actions you took in light of the incident that occurred at Cooperative Farm No. 216. Please wait outside as we confer on the verdict.”

Shin Aeja stood up and looked at the panel members.