Mention of living American and British POWs in NK.

[Ed Evanhoe <gangster@oio.net>]

This is rather long but interesting.  Should be worth some discussion.

Ed
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 >Subject: Korean defector mentions American and British POWs

 >Below is on a North Korean defector who was imprisoned and escaped.  The
 >article contains a reference to American and British POWs being in a POW
 >camp.  It is difficult to tell from the context whether the man is speaking
 >about the present or the past, but it seems to be the present.  Given Alan
 >Liotta's statement that all Korean defectors are interviewed about U.S.
 >POWs, I hope someone from the various family groups might know something
 >about this or will follow up.  I have copied the POW statement first.  The
 >main article is below that.  This has been pulled from the Homepage of the
 >Network for North Korean Democracy and Human Rights, a nonprofit DPRK human
 >rights group based in Seoul.  The article appeared May 22, 2001.
 >The more serious offenders were picked out for imprisonment in political
 >prison camps such as Kaechon Kyohwaso and Soosung Kyohwaso in Hyongjin. 2)
 >There are ten of these political prison camps, and in Camp No. 14 alone
 >15,000 inmates were assigned to hard labor. Aside from the estimated 15,000,
 >there were children as well as some British and American POW's who were
 >captured near Jangjin Lake in South Hamkyong Province during the Korean
 >War.
 >Defector Describes Life in DPRK Prison Camp
 >Testimony of Kim Yong given at the Annual General Assembly of Citizens
 >Alliance to Help Political Prisoners in North Korea on 24 Feb 00
 >My name is KIM Yong. I escaped from a political prison camp in North Korea
 >on September 25, 1998. On October 22, 1999, I arrived safely in South Korea
 >via China and Mongolia.
 >
 >It was in August 1993 when I first entered the No. 14 political prison camp
 >under the jurisdiction of the State Security Department. There I was treated
 >like a beast and experienced things that you cannot even begin to imagine.
 >
 >The horror of a political prison camp was a sudden interference in my life.
 >I was taken in for a crime I did not commit and for being the son of my
 >father, who I had never even seen. It took me almost a year of desperate
 >struggle before I reached safety in South Korea. The one thing that kept me
 >alive was the hope that I may someday stand in front of the Commission on
 >Human Rights to let the world know the truth about political prison camps in
 >North Korea.
 >
 >I was working in the Trade Section of the State Security Department as an
 >agent for the West Sea Asahi Trading Company, when I was arrested in May
 >1993. The authorities accused me of using a false identity to infiltrate the
 >State Security Department. In a secret den in Maram of Yongsung District in
 >Pyongyang, the police began to interrogate me. They asked me what my purpose
 >was for entering the State Security Department and harassed me for my
 >boldness in posing as a patriot, hiding my true identity as the son of a
 >spy. They tortured me for answers that I had no way of giving.
 >
 >The different forms of torture are too numerous to recount. Sometimes they
 >put a wooden stick 1) with sharp edges behind my knees, made me kneel, and
 >then trampled my body with their heavy boots. At other times, they would
 >hang me by the shackles on my wrists, high enough so that I was forced to
 >stand on tiptoe. At night water would fill the solitary cell up to my
 >stomach, depriving me of any sleep. During the long hours under water my
 >body would gradually swell up, making it difficult for me to keep my
 >balance. If I fell, the guards kicked me until I scrambled up again in
 >extreme pain and fatigue. During the threemonth investigation period, I was
 >taken back and forth between two dens: One in Moonsu, Daedong River District
 >and the other in Maram, Yongsung District.
 >
 >The endless tortures were wasted on me because I could not have confessed to
 >something I had neither done nor known. If anything I was a loyal son of KIM
 >Ilsung and the state. Raised in an orphanage since the age of four, while
 >other kids played in the loving arms of their parents, I was more influenced
 >by the Party and the Great Leader KIM Ilsung than by my own parents.
 >Naturally, I grew up to be a faithful worker whose loyalty to the Party and
 >the Leader was impeccable.
 >
 >My tormentors threatened me with manuscripts of testimony written by my
 >mother and Lieutenant KIM Kyesun, who was the resident coordinator for the
 >Security Department of Sohung County, Hwanghae Province.
 >
 >What they wanted was my confession to our conspiracy, which, truthfully, I
 >had no knowledge of! After three months of repeated questioning, threats,
 >and torture, I was driven five hours from Pyongyang, going through five
 >guard posts.
 >
 >When I was finally let out of the car, my eyes wandered so that I could try
 >and figure out where I was, but a quick order came from one of the men:
 >
 >"You son of a bitch! Head to the ground and be still!"
 >
 >The police escorts and the authorities there talked amongst themselves. A
 >pile of dossiers was handed over to the latter. Soon after, the jeep I came
 >in was ordered to leave me behind. Then a voice yelled out:
 >
 >"Get in the car, asshole!"
 >
 >I complied submissively only to feel heavy boots kicking my head, which they
 >did to make me lower my forehead to the car floor. The assault came with a
 >barrage of swearing:
 >
 >"Stop sticking your head up like a son of a bitch, damn it!"
 >
 >In my mind I saw death, and a wave of selfpity came over me. Everything was
 >so wrong, so unjust. I had done nothing to deserve the cruel abuse and death
 >that was sure to follow.
 >
 >The car stopped in front of a warehouse where prisoners' belongings were
 >stored. I was told to get out and completely strip, even my underwear.
 >Instead I was given a rag to put on and stood waiting for what was to come
 >next. This somehow displeased the authorities and another round of shouting
 >and violence followed.
 >
 >"I see you are still not disciplined enough. Sit down! On your knees!"
 >
 >As I fell to my knees someone pushed my head down onto the ground. I later
 >found out that there was a regulation in Camp No. 14 about what the inmates
 >must do when any camp authority was present or passing by. The inmate must
 >sit on his or her knees with head glued to the ground and turned away from
 >where the officer is. The prisoner must remain in that position until the
 >officer is out of sight, and only then can he/she walk, keeping ones eyes
 >fixed in the direction opposite of where the officer had gone.
 >
 >In a short while, two camp guards loaded me into a jeep and took me round
 >the bend to where Mujin No. 2 Mine was situated. The No. 2 Mine inside Camp
 >No. 14 was to be my new home. The security agent that escorted me to the
 >site was to be my supervisor. As I had worked in the State Security
 >Department, I knew full well that I could not get out of the political
 >prison camp once I got in.
 >
 >The establishment of the political prison camps was conceived by KIM
 >Byonghwa, who was then the head of the State Security Department, and
 >carried out in 1972 under orders from KIM Ilsung. Before 1972, there were
 >special districts set aside for the internment of families of defectors to
 >the South, the people who had worked in the South Korean police during the
 >Korean War, and proJapanese collaborators and their families,in the cities
 >near the 38th parallel in Hwanghae Province, such as: Kaesong, Kumchon,
 >Yong'yon, Jang'yon, Ahnahk, Eunyool, Chiya, Jangpoong, Kaepoong, Panmun,
 >etc. These bad elements were deported in cargo trains to twelve special
 >districts to sever them completely from contact with innocent North Korean
 >citizens. All forms of communication with the outside world, including mail,
 >were denied these prisoners. At the time, the State Security Department had
 >not come into being, and the special districts were operated under the
 >Social Security Department.
 >
 >The more serious offenders were picked out for imprisonment in political
 >prison camps such as Kaechon Kyohwaso and Soosung Kyohwaso in Hyongjin. 2)
 >There are ten of these political prison camps, and in Camp No. 14 alone
 >15,000 inmates were assigned to hard labor. Aside from the estimated 15,000,
 >there were children as well as some British and American POW's who were
 >captured near Jangjin Lake in South Hamkyong Province during the Korean
 >War.
 >
 >Despite the criticism of the international community, North Korea has not
 >abated its human rights abuse, which is even now inflicted upon the person
 >convicted as well as his/her second or third generation descendants. The
 >atrocities against humanity are what sustain the principle proclaimed by the
 >Sixth Party Convention, which says, The revolutionary goal outlasts the
 >changes of time.
 >
 >Camp No. 14 severely restricts any exchange of communication between
 >inmates, especially between males and females to prevent reproduction. The
 >authorities see the offspring of inmates as antirevolutionary seeds that
 >must be rooted out. The families are broken up by sex, with the exception
 >being boys under twelve who are allowed to stay with their mothers. The
 >inmates in these establishments spend their whole lives not knowing what is
 >happening on the other side of the mountain. I heard that control in Camp
 >No. 14 became especially strong after the inmates rioted in 1990; 1,500
 >people were killed and their bodies were discarded in an old, closeddown
 >mine. An iron gate was erected, opening in the morning to let inmates out
 >for work and closing in the evening after their return. Thus shut, the gate
 >will not be opened until the next morning.
 >
 >There is so much to talk about concerning my life in North Korean political
 >prison camps, but for today I will concentrate on a few things I personally
 >experienced.
 >
 >In October 1993, which was my first year as a prisoner, I came to witness a
 >horrible incident. At the time, I was assigned to work near a small valley
 >filled with chestnut trees, where autumn would bring ripe chestnuts that
 >would fall and pile up on the ground. The sight of chestnuts is more than
 >tempting to the hungry prisoners, but no one dares succumb to the
 >temptation. Everyone knows that venturing even a small step away from the
 >workplace will be considered an escape attempt, and would certainly mean an
 >immediate death. The story I am about to tell is of a man whose fears were
 >numbed by hunger.
 >
 >Fiftythreeyearold Chulmin KIMs job was to drive trolleys for
 >transferring coal. One day, he saw some chestnut burrs roll down the
 >mountain slope and stop in front of his trolley. Chulmin, without realizing
 >what he was doing, stopped on the tracks to pick up the chestnuts.
 >Unfortunately, a security agent, who we called Opbashi 3) for his cruelty,
 >had spotted what Chulmin was doing and yelled:
 >
 >"What are you doing, you son of a bitch?"
 >
 >The shout made me raise my head toward the direction it came from, and I
 >could see Opbashi already quite close behind Chulmin, who was oblivious to
 >all but the mouthwatering chestnuts. Opbashi, on reaching Chulmin's
 >bentover back started kicking and became increasingly violent as his anger
 >mounted. In no time, the hard soles of his boots were laying heavy blows to
 >poor Chulmin's head until finally a pistol was taken out. Opbashi then held
 >down Chulmin's head with one of his feet and blew a hole in the forehead of
 >the horrified victim. Blood spurted from Chulmin, who was no longer alive.
 >
 >Ordered to drag away the corpse of such a poisonous element, the supervisor
 >rushed to the body and picked it up in his arms. His action provoked
 >Opbashi, who shouted:
 >
 >"What? Feeling pity for the rascal? Drag the damn thing, I'm telling ya!"
 >
 >The supervisor quickly dropped Chulmin's body on the trolley tracks and
 >pulled it along by the leg. It looked like the carcass of a beast. I noticed
 >the two chestnuts Chulmin so firmly held in his hand. The witnesses on the
 >scene stood motionless in fear and rage.
 >
 >Ladies and gentlemen, this is the reality of the political prison camps. I
 >want to tell you another one of my personal experiences.
 >
 >My job in the camp was to dig in a mine 720m below the surface. The parts of
 >the hard earth I cut away were to be loaded onto a trolley, which I had to
 >push as far as 200m where there was a machine to carry rocks above the
 >ground. For a novice like me, it was difficult work.
 >
 >One day, there were simply too many rocks to keep up the pace. Several
 >trolleys were lined in front of me pressuring me to move faster. It was then
 >the shout came:
 >
 >"Who the fuck did this?"
 >
 >In situations like this, I had been taught to face the wall, put my hands on
 >the back of my head, keep my forehead glued to the ground, and remain
 >motionless until the security agent had passed by. And I was doing just that
 >when suddenly I was knocked unconscious. When I finally regained
 >consciousness, blood was flowing from my head and down my neck. A security
 >agent had hit me with the back of his pistol and was making me an example of
 >an unproductive worker who deserved no better than death. To this day, I
 >bear the scar of hatred on my head. I recall the anger and desire for
 >revenge that exploded inside me.
 >
 >Similar stories abound. Mr. Leeyoung GAHL (57) used to be a famous
 >basketball player in North Korea. He ended up in a political prison camp
 >because his father was a landowner. One day, Mr. GAHL found the oxtail whip
 >Opbashi used to carry, soaked it in water to soften it, and ate it in
 >secret. When Mr. GAHLs transaction was discovered the following day, Opbashi
 >brutally beat him in front of all the prisoners. He then ordered the
 >supervisor to bring squirming roundworms from the toilets, which had been
 >put on a stick, and the heartless security officer forced it into the mouth
 >of the helpless Mr. GAHL, who was on the ground. That night, Mr. GAHL ran a
 >high fever and his body swelled up from the severe assault he had suffered.
 >With his head on my legs as a pillow, Mr. GAHL let out sighs saying: "Yong,
 >all I did was inherit what my father had left me. Is it such a horrendous
 >crime? Do I really deserve this kind of punishment?" After three days he
 >died.
 >
 >As a firsthand witness to the horrors of the political prison camps in North
 >Korea, I want to disclose to the world the unbelievable human rights abuse
 >going on in these camps.
 >
 >The human rights of women are weighed as less than nothing in these
 >establishments. In Camp No. 14, there is an executive suite for visiting
 >department heads or cadres at a similar level.
 >
 >When these high level officials come to the camp, attractive female
 >prisoners between the ages of 21 to 25 are picked out to serve them as sex
 >slaves. To conceal such practices, documents are forged convicting the
 >ravished women of escape attempts, who are clandestinely murdered
 >afterwards. This practice is repeated whenever a cadre comes visiting from
 >Pyongyang. I am sure you find this hard to even imagine.
 >
 >You will be even more surprised to hear that the prisoners in Camp No. 14
 >are used as guinea pigs for developing chemical warfare technology. It is no
 >exaggeration when I say that death lurks in every corner of the camp
 >establishment at every moment. And it was from this hellhole that I was
 >transferred to Camp No. 18 near Daedong River in October 1995.
 >
 >Before moving me to Camp No. 18, the authorities threatened me that a single
 >slip of the tongue about my experience in Camp No. 14 would mean the end of
 >me, and made me sign a document of avowal with my fingerprints. They told me
 >I should consider myself lucky for being transferred to Camp No. 18 where
 >prisoners were better treated.
 >
 >They were right because Camp No. 18 seemed like a paradise compared to Camp
 >No. 14. Prisoners were allowed to watch some TV and read newspapers. In the
 >previous camp, prisoners were prohibited from exposure to media of any kind.
 >Only on rare occasions when the officers judged our work satisfactory did
 >they reward us with minimum entertainment. A car would drive by and play one
 >or two popular songs such as the Willows on Peony Peak. Compared to that,
 >Camp No. 18 was heaven and I was indeed thankful for my luck.
 >
 >Life in Camp No. 18 started out much the same as I was again assigned to
 >mine digging in the Yongdung Mine. However, I later discovered something, or
 >rather, someone, who made living in Camp No. 18 very special. It was my
 >mother.
 >
 >For the first time in forty years, I was reunited with my mother who was
 >also a prisoner. I was allowed to live with her because things were a little
 >different at Camp No. 18. First, the family was allowed to live together.
 >Second, the prisoners were paid a monthly wage of 30 won for their labor.
 >Third, within a designated area in the mountains, the prisoners were allowed
 >to pick plants to eat.
 >
 >On the fifteenth day after my arrival at Camp No. 18, the security
 >department office at the camp summoned me. From Pyongyang, Mr. Gilnam JANG
 >had come. He was chief of the Eighth Bureau in the State Security
 >Department. He wanted to let me know that an official of some ranking in the
 >State Security Department had exercised his influence to have me moved to
 >Camp No. 18. Mr. JANG told me to be grateful and to work hard. He also
 >explained to the head of security at the camp that I was formerly employed
 >in the State Security Department. As I walked out the gate, tears of
 >gratitude ran down my face for the person who had saved me from Camp No. 14.
 >After Mr. JANG's visit, my workload was considerably lightened as I was
 >moved out of the mines to repair trolleys.
 >
 >Now I will briefly explain the way Camp No. 18 is organized. Among the
 >prison camps operated by the Social Security Department, the area where Camp
 >No. 14 is now located was divided into half along the Daedong River. One of
 >the halves is now Camp No. 18. The first generation of prisoners is almost
 >extinct and the second and third generations are in detention. About 30,000
 >prisoners are assigned to hard labor while some 20,000 children, the
 >elderly, and the sick, comprise the rest of the camp population totaling
 >50,000. One section of the camp is especially set aside for about thirty
 >prisoners, who were demoted from their previous positions in the upper ranks
 >and ostracized for whatever mistakes they had made. This part of the camp is
 >off limits to the average prisoner, who is strictly forbidden from talking
 >to the inmates of the special section. This prohibition is meant to prevent
 >the average prisoner from being tainted by their reactionary influence.
 >
 >Camp No. 18 is guarded by two armed battalions and surrounded by a high
 >voltage wire fence that stands 3m tall. Triangular boobytraps 3m deep and
 >1.5m wide are planted under the electrified wires. At the bottom of these
 >traps are 60cmlong iron bars with sharp ends made to pierce the body that
 >falls on them. There are 5mhigh watchtowers every 200m along the
 >circumference of the camp. These towers are equipped with light machine guns
 >and occupied by guards rotating every two hours. In between the cordon of
 >watchtowers are soldiers in hidden posts, as well as soldiers who make
 >rounds on the outer edges of the camp.
 >
 >My first impression of Camp No. 18 as heavenly in comparison to Camp No. 14
 >was shattered within three months. Each workday began with roll call and a
 >body search before prisoners went into the mine to work. One morning, a
 >piece of newspaper with KIM Ilsung's name printed in big letters was found
 >on Chulho BYON (45), a minedigger. Apparently, he had been using it to
 >roll up cigarette weeds for smoking. The mine's supervisor acted as if he
 >had discovered a grievous crime and stood him in front of all the prisoners.
 >As he smashed Chulho with his fists, he assaulted him also with words,
 >denouncing him as an enemy of the people born of a reactionary father.
 >
 >After the assault Chulho was tied to a tree on the street most frequented
 >by prisoners, and guards took turns watching him for an entire day. It was
 >January, and in the mountain where the camp was the temperature dropped to
 >as low as fifteen degrees below zero. Chulho, wearing nothing else besides
 >his thin work uniform, suffered severe frostbite that caused pus to leak out
 >from his hands and feet. In the end, he lost consciousness. No one, however,
 >dared express sympathy for fear they would be considered an accomplice to
 >his crime.
 >
 >Ladies and gentlemen, I now want to tell you about my mother. In May 1996,
 >food was so scarce that my mother used to climb into the woods and bring
 >back herbs and plant roots to make weed gruel. Since the food situation was
 >bad outside the camps, you can easily guess it would be far worse inside the
 >political prison camps! At Camp No. 18 food, enough to last only ten days,
 >was used as a whole month's supply. Prisoners practically lived on weeds
 >with one or two grains of corn. Such were the circumstances when an accident
 >befell my mother that would have serious consequences.
 >
 >As usual, my mother had gone to the woods to gather whatever was edible.
 >Weak with age and extreme malnutrition, she collapsed in the middle of the
 >forest, waking hours later in darkness.
 >
 >Unfortunately, one of the guards making his night round found my mother
 >walking in the woods. Suspecting that she was trying to run away from the
 >camp, he handcuffed and confined her in a prison cell thinking that if she
 >was not trying to escape why would she be roaming the woods in the middle of
 >the night?
 >
 >Because I used to leave for work at six in the morning to return as late as
 >eleven or twelve at night, I was unaware of what had happened. When I heard
 >of my mother's arrest I rushed to the security officer to beg for mercy.
 >There I saw my mother's bony hands locked in cuffs, and her face covered
 >with blood where the skin had been cut. I pleaded that being an old woman
 >she did not know better. My supplication only earned kicks from the officer
 >who lashed out: "You son of a bitch! Everyone knows the regulations! No one
 >is allowed to go into the woods after five!"
 >
 >Even though in her seventies, my mother was condemned to a special cell for
 >serious offenders. She was then forced to work by the riverside of the
 >Daedong carrying rocks to heap them into a pile. When she could no longer
 >walk, two young men put a long bat in between her legs and carried her away
 >as she desperately tried to keep herself from falling off. Can you, ladies
 >and gentlemen, imagine what I felt at that moment, watching my own mother in
 >anxiety and yet unable to do a single thing for the poor old woman? This is
 >the brutal truth about North Korea, the land where they say that human
 >rights are better respected than anywhere else and that the rules are based
 >on humanitarianism.
 >
 >That incident turned my mother into an invalid, unable even to go to the
 >bathroom by herself. The sight of my mother in such a state would often make
 >me resent or even curse my father who did nothing more than bring me into
 >this world. The anger and curses would only throw me into despair, because
 >after all, I could find no practical solution. One day when I was
 >overwhelmed by hopelessness, my mother put my hand in hers and told me that
 >she wished for me to run away. She didn't expect to live much longer and
 >felt that at least I should be able to escape for a better chance in life. I
 >knew then I would never forget the teary eyes that stared into mine as she
 >said this. Although I well understood my mother's meaning and the sincerity
 >of her wish, I could not bear to leave her behind so frail and aged. A few
 >days later, however, I made up mind about escaping and asked her:
 >
 >"Mother, how would you live without me?"
 >
 > >From my question she seemed to have read my determination and answered:
 >
 >"If you think of the trivial things, you will never become a big man. Just
 >think of how wonderful it would be if you could only go to South Korea. Your
 >uncle went south during the war and some of your father's friends must still
 >be there, too." With these words and a long sigh she tried to encourage me.
 >
 >Even after this conversation I could not easily run away. I got involved in
 >a case for which I was tortured and investigated. My body was weakened
 >considerably and I could easily have died had I not strengthened my
 >determination to fight for life. I wrote a will so that it would look like I
 >had committed suicide, leaving only a will to let an unwitting mother know.
 >This I hoped would protect my mother from being accused of conspiring in my
 >escape. I explained to her that should I not return home, she should take
 >the will to the officer in charge of us. Then I embarked on my journey.
 >
 >On September 28, 1998, I made a miraculous escape from the camp of death on
 >a coal train bound for Moonchon Refinery. I passed through Kowon and then
 >Danchon in South Hamkyong Province. From there I went to Chongjin in North
 >Hamkyong Province where I stayed at my friend's home to recuperate. I then
 >went to Najin and to Namyangku in North Hamkyong Province, finally crossing
 >the Tumen River in December 1998. Through Domun I entered China.
 >
 >I wandered in Yanji not knowing where to go in the strange Chinese land.
 >There I came to see and myself experience the tragedy of North Koreans in
 >China. According to data gathered by the Social Security Department in late
 >1997, 300,000 North Koreans were missing, 100,000 among them were estimated
 >to have died of hunger or were wandering through parts of North Korea, while
 >about 200,000 had crossed the border to China.
 >
 >The sad fate of North Koreans in China as a poor homeless race came home to
 >me in Yanji. There is a pecuniary reward for every North Korean defector
 >captured, and the KoreanChinese go all out searching for North Koreans in
 >hiding to hand them over to the Chinese police. The arrested North Koreans
 >are strung together with a wire that is pierced through their noses. In
 >groups of fifty, these people are deported through Domun. China gets one log
 >in return for every captured North Korean.
 >
 >The women are sold for rape and forced into prostitution by Chinese and
 >KoreanChinese. Some women try to go back to North Korea with the money they
 >earned to feed their families, only to be caught and imprisoned in police
 >detention centers. The slightest mistake could label one of these women as a
 >traitor. Pregnant women often suffer the most, as officers would kill the
 >fetuses while in the womb by kicking the women's belly. In the market in
 >Yanji, you see North Korean children whose fingers have been cut off for
 >stealing food.
 >
 >I was fortunate to have met Reverend Jooshik KIM and his wife who embraced
 >me for the sole reason that I am a fellow Korean. If it were not for the
 >reverend and his wife, I would have long been dragged back to Camp No. 18
 >for a public execution by hanging. Instead, I was able to regain my health
 >and to receive God's grace under their care and support. Through Bible study
 >I learned that the Ten Principles for establishing the system of monolithic
 >ideology was actually twisted out of the Ten Commandments. Reverend KIM and
 >his wife are my saviors and I could never forget them for what they have
 >done for me.
 >
 >In conclusion, I give you the promise that I will devote my small self to
 >the peaceful reunification of Korea. When that day should come, I will go to
 >Pyongyang to teach my friends and my children the truth about KIM Ilsung
 >and KIM Jongil. I will serve as a voice crying out for everyone to live in
 >the spirit of democracy.
Ed Evanhoe, PO Box 916, Antlers, Ok, 74523-0916
Author: DARKMOON: Eighth Army Special Operations in the Korean War
Life member: Special Forces & Special Operations Associations
Co-list owner: KOREAN-WAR-L (hosted by the Univ. of Kansas)
Web site:  http://www.korean-war.com