Authors: Young-ha Kim
Like the two humps of a camel, the tall Temple I and Temple II stood facing each other; if an army could occupy them first, the enemy would be hard-pressed to pass between them. And around them were many hills, buried ruins that were useful for ambushes and retreats. Past Temple I and Temple II there was a small reservoir on the left, and farther along, Temple III formed yet another steep hill, functioning as a defensive line. If the guerrillas could not repel the enemy there, they could retreat to Temple IV, some six hundred feet away, make their last stand there, and then flee along a narrow path that ran to the northeast.
The reign of the mini-nation of New Korea was unexpectedly long. President Cabrera had his hands full dealing with the problems cropping up near the capital and had no time to pay attention to the northern jungle. Ijeong chose people to be in charge of the supply of goods and to enforce the law. He could lead battles, so he did not appoint anyone else for that. The tranquil days continued. The new year came. The Mayans and the New Koreans had a tug of war in the village square with a rope of twisted henequen fibers. At first Ijeong and his people won, but at the end the Mayans won. They held a festival and enjoyed the days. They even played a mock cavalry battle. Three men formed the horse, one rode on top, and two teams fought against each other. Ijeong and his people won at this. The women divided into sides and cheered on the men. They played the Korean yut game using people as playing pieces, and they also held Mayan-style wrestling matches.
Mario said that the Mayan-mestizo joint revolutionary army in the central region was now threatening the capital. He was glad, saying that the moment of Cabrera’s fate was at hand. The government troops who had taken up positions around Lake Petén Itzá were building high wooden barricades, devoting their energies to defense. For the time being, there seemed to be little chance of fierce fighting breaking out. Ijeong asked Mario, “Why are we not advancing south? Isn’t that why you hired us?” Mario said, “This is our last base of operations, so we can’t leave Tikal empty. And because this place is sacred ground, if we do not defend it, the Mayans will collapse.”
One night, after much thought, Ijeong wrote a letter to Bak Jeonghun in Veracruz. “Myself and a few dozen of our people are now at Tikal in Guatemala. We have founded a small country here. It is called New Korea. Here in the jungle, local produce abounds and we lack nothing. It is hotter than the Yucatán, but it rains a lot. Here, no one exploits anyone else. We sleep with guns in our arms, but our hearts are at ease. Please convey this message to your wife. That I am well. And that I am healthy. And that I wish with all my heart that she will always live happily with you. Please tell her this.”
He addressed the envelope but did not mail it. Yet when he left his hut the next day to meet with Mario, the person who had been placed in charge of collecting and sending the mail inadvertently picked up his letter and sent it along with a Mayan mule train that was leaving for Campeche. Ijeong returned and discovered that the letter had been sent, but he was not too upset about it. Even if Yeonsu read it, she would not come here, nor would she abandon Bak Jeonghun and her child.
He also wrote a letter to Yoshida at the Japanese embassy. “Please convey this letter to the ambassador. The Korean people have not had a nation since Japan forcibly occupied the Korean Empire, but in September 1916, in Tikal, Guatemala, on the other side of the world, we finally founded a new nation. Please inform your nation of this. We expect that you will recognize our small country, just as you recognized the revolutionary government of Mexico.”
Ijeong showed the letter to all who could read. Then he read it aloud. Two letters, one in Korean and one in Chinese, were sent to Mexico with the mules. But Ijeong was subdued. He had not sent the letter because he really desired international recognition. Rather, it was because he knew all too well that it would be difficult for this nation to last long. Just as Bak Gwangsu had said, this hot and humid jungle, like a blast furnace, would melt everything in the end. People, contracts, races, nations, even sadness and rage. Thus Ijeong believed that there needed to be an official record of what they did in the jungle, if only for a short time. Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs was the most suited to this task. They would have to take an interest in the ghost of the nation they had annexed.
Another half year passed. President Estrada Cabrera, who had easily defended his government from attacks by demonstrators and revolutionaries, was now determined to wipe out the Mayan guerrillas who were active in the northern lowland jungle. The United States supported his decision and provided capital and weapons. Tens of thousands of punitive troops assembled south of Lake Petén Itzá. The government troops divided into three brigades and began an operation to mop up the guerrillas in the jungle as one would catch fish in a well with a net.
Of course, the Mayan revolutionaries knew of every movement of Cabrera’s troops; they had informants scattered around the jungle. But even though they had detailed information, there was nothing they could do in the face of a massive army. A few revolutionary units launched sporadic surprise attacks on government troop camps, but the troops returned fire with machine guns. A few days later, as soon as the sun rose, the army’s attack began. The guerrillas resisted here and there, but they could not withstand the assault and continued to retreat before Cabrera’s forces, which captured one region after another like falling dominoes. Ijeong’s men agonized over whether to abandon Tikal or to stand and fight against the government there. But at the last moment, Ijeong decided to retreat. “We head north.” Mario’s Mayan troops were also retreating in that direction. Ijeong’s squad had hesitated, and now it was too late; even their Mayan guide had followed his own tribe in retreat. Ijeong set fire to the camp and fled north. But the government troops already held the north.
To the east, then. A government battalion followed close behind Ijeong’s troops as they changed direction. Ijeong ordered a few of his men to lie in ambush and continued his retreat, but the ambushers did not wait for the enemy to draw close and hastily rejoined the ranks. It became clear once more that they were a ragged rabble. There were only about a dozen or so trustworthy soldiers. After their escape had been cut off several times and they had lost three men, Ijeong returned to Tikal’s Temple I, where they had started. After leaving a few men in ambush in an unexpected place to distract the government troops, he remained at Temple I with twenty of his men and positioned the rest at Temple II, planning to ambush the troops as they passed between them. Ijeong lost two more men in the process.
When the Guatemalan forces heard gunfire from the small twin pyramids near the central square, they suspected an ambush and headed for Temple I. They speedily climbed Temple I and Temple II, intending to occupy favorable positions before the guerrillas did. But the Koreans were already entrenched there. Ijeong waited until the last moment, when the enemy was nearly at the summit, and then all opened fire at once. The temples, which had been built at a steep angle to exalt the glory of the gods, were slippery now that they were covered with earth. Most of the government troops fell to the bullets that poured from the heavens, and the rest of them moved hastily to avoid the gunfire and tumbled back down, injuring themselves. The guerrillas scored a similar victory at Temple II. The government troops retreated to the area around the temple square and re-formed their lines. Ijeong took eight men and pursued them, showing them that they still had the will to fight. At that, the frightened troops dropped their ammunition and supplies and withdrew to the outskirts of Tikal.
A few days later, Cabrera’s forces attempted a bolder attack. They set up machine guns on the tops of buildings that were about the same height as Temples I and II and poured bullets into the Koreans’ position. The infantry used ropes to climb up under cover of the machine guns. Ijeong’s men cut the ropes and fired their rifles, but it was not enough. Ijeong decided to retreat to Temple IV, around which there were no other buildings. Ijeong’s troops slid down the western face of the Temples I and II, and the thirty-odd men that remained of New Korea’s fighting force fled toward Temple IV, two hundred yards from their present location. A few of them remained behind in the trees to hinder the pursuers and cover the guerrillas’ escape. Sweat poured into their eyes and soaked their clothes. Some were bleeding from wounds on their arms and legs. They all followed Ijeong’s orders and climbed up the steep face of Temple IV. The older Bak Gwangsu and Kim Okseon fell behind. Their comrades tied ropes around their waists and pulled the two up. Bak Gwangsu put his gun down and sat in front of the small shrine at the top. He looked at the sky and said, “Hey, Mr. Palace Eunuch. Why don’t you play the flute for us?” Sweat fell onto the hot barrels of their rifles and hissed as steam rose up. Kim Okseon laughed and said, “Hold on just a little longer. They said that Cabrera would be overthrown, did they not?” Then he took out his flute. Ijeong listened to the clear sound of the flute on top of Temple IV, some two hundred feet above the jungle floor, as he pulled up a German machine gun they had seized from the government army a few days before. The soldiers, hearing the music, were gripped by nostalgia.
When the men gazed around them from the summit of the pyramid, the jungle looked like a vast green blanket. From the side, this pyramid, which was said to have been built in 741, looked like a giant, swollen termite mound, and the slope on all four sides was treacherously steep. Unlike the other Mayan pyramids, which had been built on great isolated plains, the pyramids of Tikal, rising from the tangled jungle, felt like a completely different world. Those who had sweated buckets climbing up here desperately prayed that the Guatemalan troops would pass by them and follow the main force of Mayan revolutionaries that had retreated to the north. Ijeong commanded four soldiers to fire their guns into the air as they fled north in order to lure the government army toward the northern ruins.
But the government troops were not fooled. They also saw that Temple IV was a point of strategic importance. Their main force approached and surrounded the temple and a fierce battle broke out. In accordance with their usual practice of not fighting at night, when the sun set they withdrew while maintaining their perimeter. In the morning, though, they would rush in again and renew the battle. The mercenaries were running out of ammunition. The government troops changed their strategy and settled in for a siege. As darkness fell, Ijeong decided that they would take advantage of the cloudy weather to break through the perimeter. Ammunition was one thing, but there was no water on Temple IV. Dolseok’s squad returned from the north and attacked the army’s rear, and Ijeong’s men rolled down the temple’s steep north face like a slide. The government troops fired at once into the darkness. Ijeong ran as if mad. The sound of flying bullets rang, zing zing, in his ears.
He finally arrived at their destination, the reservoir. Five men were already there. Dolseok and four of his men, who had helped them on the fringe, were gasping for breath. Bullets flew in every direction. At that moment something cold ran down Ijeong’s chest. And the clamor of gunfire drew closer.
“It’s the enemy!” They all splashed through water up to their knees and spread out in all directions. As he ran, Ijeong felt his neck and found that blood flowed from where he had been grazed by a bullet. It didn’t appear to be a serious wound. The government troops scattered and chased them. Dolseok, who had gone ahead, screamed to them, “This way!” Where Dolseok pointed was a small hill about three times the height of a man. At the bottom was a small hole, the entrance of another Mayan structure from long ago—it might have been the tomb of a great personage. The surviving eleven men went inside one by one, and the last one in camouflaged the entrance with vines. The stench of blood and sweat mixed powerfully with the smell of mold. They held their breath as they pointed the muzzles of their rifles toward the entrance and waited for the troops to pass by.
A short while later, Kim Okseon, who had been late in fleeing, appeared before them, gasping and dragging his gun. Dolseok started to bolt out, but Ijeong stopped him. At that moment, a government soldier’s bullet passed through Kim Okseon’s heart. This soldier came up, aimed at Kim Okseon’s head, and calmly fired a few more rounds. Thus ended the life of the last palace eunuch musician of the Korean Empire. The Guatemalans left his body and maintained their formation, continuing forward. As soon as the government troops had gone, three vultures descended on Kim Okseon’s body in a noisy flurry of wings. One of them pecked at the eunuch’s chest. Blood spurted up and soaked its beak.
Ijeong left one guard behind and commanded the rest of them to head down to the basement of the ruined building. There might be an exit there. When they went down they found an unexpectedly broad space. But it was a dead end. They all relaxed a bit and took some rest in that place, their faces gloomy. “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?” said a young mercenary. Ijeong was bothered by the blood that flowed from his neck. Dolseok tore some cotton cloth that he had and wrapped it around Ijeong’s neck like a bandage. The bleeding stopped but it still hurt terribly. Ijeong found a chair sculpted in the form of a jaguar. The jaguar’s back formed the back of the chair, and the head acted as the legs. The place was filled with intricate stone sculptures and graven hieroglyphs, which were nothing more than meaningless fragments of stone to them. Ijeong thought about the numerous kingdoms that had been founded in Tikal. He grew melancholy. They had all fallen.
Dawn broke and the sun rose above the trees. Ijeong and his men waited there for night to fall. When darkness came he went outside and looked around. His throat was so dry. He didn’t sense any sign of the government troops, only the thick jungle undergrowth. Ambush was not the enemy’s specialty, so he eliminated that possibility. They headed east first, quietly advancing step by step. After they had walked about half a mile in this way, they gradually began to relax. They concluded that the army had withdrawn to its quarters. Ijeong warned them several times to stay alert, but he could not completely stem the excitement of the young people who had escaped death. Suddenly, several monkeys screeched and swung from tree to tree. Something was out there. The monkeys fled from Ijeong’s right to his left. His men, who were as used to life in the jungle as anyone, ran in the direction the monkeys were fleeing. Pow, pow. The bullets flew faster than sound and brought down the soldiers. The sound of gunfire was like popping corn. Ijeong blamed himself for leaving their hiding place after only a day. Vines ruthlessly scratched at his face as he ran. He cast off the bandage that had been wrapped around his neck. There was no end to the sound of bullets zipping past his ears. When he reached the two low, twin pyramids to the north, there were only three men beside him. Ijeong caught his breath and reloaded his rifle. But before they could regroup, they were completely surrounded by soldiers who had come down from the twin pyramids.