Tucked near the southern bank of the Imjin River is one of Korea’s lesser-known memorials, but one that holds significant importance for the families of those remembered and the nation at large. The National Memorial for Abductees during the Korean War is a heart-wrenching reminder of the depravity of war. Nearly 100,000 ordinary Korean citizens were taken captive by the government directive of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK). Most were abducted during the 1950-53 war, but a significant number were taken in the succeeding decades.
This memorial hall is situated in the park at Imjingak in Paju City, Gyeonggi Province, and is about as close as ordinary citizens can get to the Demilitarized Zone without special permits or guided groups. The Gyeongui train line from Seoul and several bus routes connect the park with the larger capital metropolitan area. Conceived and built in 1972 as a symbol of hoped-for unification, the park hosts many memorials to various military units that defended the nation during the war.
The park was once merely a somber host to the Peace Bell and Mangbaeddan, an altar for people to pray for separated family members. Now it contains a children’s amusement park and various coffee shops and restaurants that bring in more than 1 million visitors annually. Yet visitors can be reminded, in a close, personal manner, of the tragedy of the nation’s division. The destroyed rail bridge, pockmarked with bullet holes, the rusted and blown-up carcass of the last train engine south, the border protection guard posts and razor wire, and the young soldiers out for an afternoon run along the river — they all reflect the serious nature of the area. Not far from the park is the heavily guarded bridge that leads to Panmunjeom, off-limits to all but those who have special passes.
I last visited Imjingak in the early 2000s with a tour hosted by Royal Asiatic Society Korea. Since then, newer buildings and other facilities have been added to the area. So, it was with somber curiosity that I recently spent several hours visiting with the docents of the Memorial for Abductees and wandering through the exhibits. Artifacts, documents, photographs, videos and dioramas bring to life the stories of the 100,000 abductees and their families who remain in the South, hopeful of someday reuniting.
From my earliest years in Korea, I had heard stories about separated families. Those who came from the North as the Soviets began closing the border along the 38th parallel in the late 1940s, and young men fleeing conscription by the North’s military (and heading south to join the Republic of Korea army) when war broke out on June 25, 1950. But I did not know about the stories I would hear at this memorial.
In the early days of the war, the DPRK government drafted plans to abduct hundreds of educators, politicians, journalists, judges, scientists, skilled craftspeople, businesspeople and others. The planning went far beyond a general idea. Lists were drafted with names, identification and known addresses, so when military operatives showed up in Seoul, they went directly to the homes and workplaces of those individuals. They captured them and brought them to areas north of the 38th parallel. These people, mostly men, were forced to work for the DPRK’s political and economic endeavors to help shore up its communist governmental policies. They were sent to various prisons and reeducation camps. The number of abductees grew over the years to include prisoners of war and conscripts. The North hoped to drain the South of its ability to rehabilitate after the war by taking highly trained and educated people. Of course, the abductions continued in the decades after the war, well into the 21st century.
As the anniversary of the outbreak of the Korean War approaches in a couple of months. I encourage you to find a day to travel to Imjingak and spend some time reflecting at this memorial and others in the park. Let us think of loved ones we miss but can no longer meet. Let us remember that those loved ones ask us to “forget me not.”
Rev. Steven L. Shields, FRAS ([email protected]) has lived in Korea since the 1970s. A Fellow of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, he is also a life member of Royal Asiatic Society Korea, of which he was a director, vice president and president. He was a copy editor at The Korea Times in 1977.
Source: Korea Times News
