굴러온 호박호박

A pumpkin rolled over to me.

Military Airfield No. 45, Hamhung, December 31st, 1951

The Lisunov Li-2 thudded onto the icy, frozen runway, jostling its cargo and passengers as it thundered down the rutted field. Hamhung’s airfield was a hastily built, mud-and-dirt affair that was far down the priority list for being paved or being lengthened to accommodate jets. The cargo plane taxied to the end of the runway, which was rapidly becoming enveloped with fog as a storm blew up from the East Sea.

Lieutenant General Choe Hyon stepped onto the muddy runway, his boots digging in a couple of inches as he padded towards the staff car that was waiting for him. His adjutant hurried ahead, pulling the door open before snapping into salute.

The staff car bounced over uneven, horrific roads down the hill and over the Japanese-built bridge over the Songch’on River. The driver was chatty about the conditions in the north, going through long anecdotes about the river freezing over, ice-fishing, defending from bombing raids. Finally he looked at the Lieutenant General:

“You’re here about the siding, right?”

The Lieutenant General nodded. “Speak not of it. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Comrade Lieutenant General.”

The staff car clattered over the railroad tracks before taking a turn and driving down a single line that had been built in the 1920s to a small locomotive depot. The gathering storm whipped over the camouflage netting and faux trees that had been installed over the yard, as Lieutenant General Choe stepped out of the car. He gripped his hat as he walked into the hastily expanded building.

Holding open the bay door were two soldiers, armed with machine pistols, who saluted the Lieutenant General as he came inside. The door was slid shut noisily behind him as Major General Kim Chaek came forward to greet him.

“Comrade Lieutenant General Choe Hyon! I hope your flight was well. Come, and see our work.”

Major General Kim led him deeper into the complex. He motioned around at huge objects, covered in tarpaulins shoved into each corner that they could fit.

“You are sure of this installation’s security?” the Lieutenant General asked as he was led further into the complex.

“It is secure from our Soviet friends. Of course, in the spirit of cooperation, we have invited our own guests.” The Major General motioned towards the largest object in the room - a cylindrical thirty-meter long silver object, which had a series of huge tarpaulins over it. At the far end the tarpaulins had been pulled away to reveal a massive aircraft tail with a gun turret at the base of it. A group of engineers and scientists were closely examining the inner workings of the elevator and rudder, talking amongst themselves as they analyzed some limited technical documentation. The craft had clearly been damaged during its crash-landing, and had only fit in the warehouse after having its wings removed - these were stored nearby.

“Some of the only Korean aviation engineers. Trained in Japan. Rehabilitated, of course,” Major General Kim said by way of explanation. “They will form the nexus-point of a Korean aviation industry after the war.”

“Has this been done with everything?,” the Lieutenant General asked. “The tank as well?”

“Of course. They may not take anything, but they may make as many Korean-language diagrams as they wish. In the spirit of self-sufficiency, we will create our own technical expertise.”

“I trust your management of this project, Kim Chaek,” the Lieutenant General said. “Do not cause me to regret that trust.”

“My allegiance will always be to Korea!” Lieutenant General Kim Chaek responded emphatically.

To be continued…