Sister MARIE (Javiet) MADELAINE

Source: Magazine 「HoGuk」
Author: Sister Marie (Javiet) Madelaine
Date issued: 1985


My Personal Korean War Experience

-A death march; memory of a thousand days-

Sister Marie (Javiet) Madelaine de la Misericorde



The following is a story of a woman who suffered through a death march and hardships in a North Korean prison camp and finally came back to life; one human’s story of triumph. This is an excerpt from a manuscript of Sister Marie Madelaine who passed away last year.

It was July 14, the 20th day of the North Korean army’s occupation of Seoul. A number of Red Army soldiers wearing red armbands came to the Carmelite Convent. They announced, in a commanding tone, “All Roman Catholics foreigners must gather in front of the bishop’s residence tomorrow.” The next morning, July 15, Father Gong, his brother-leaders- and Father Gu read the mass. The mass was over. “Hurry up! Hurry!” Red Army officers started rushing. I heard a few Korean nuns sobbing. The Abbess turned around and crossed herself. “Always within the Lord" It was my last time with dear Carmelite and the first step toward 3 years of tormenting prison life.

We were pulled along to 2nd floor of Samhwa building in Sogong-dong. They asked our nationality, age, and the date of arrival in Korea. They repeated the same questions for about 50 times. In a little while, the room was filled with100 additional Koreans. Some of them, five or six people at a time, were pulled out and banging of gunshots followed all night long. The next day another group of Korean were taken in and the same thing happened. We were terrified, not knowing what’s happening. July 16, examiners interrogated us one-on-one, swearing at us all day. “You granny, you spoiled all young Chosun people! huh?”. Next morning, July 17, the soldiers threatened us, saying “All priests and nuns would be sentenced to death.” At night, people’s court was held in front of another Koreans taken into the building. “These lazybones do not contribute anything for our people. They do nothing but hoarding away our precious assets to their country and making us poor. They have no right to survive.” The officer said. And a few Koreans chimed in with them. “Yes! They should all die!” We all thought that we were soon going to die. Father Gong read a prayer for the dying and we were waiting for the death to come. We could hear gunshots and screaming outside all night long, but nothing happened till the morning came. July 18, some people were shrieking continuously on the second floor. Maybe the Korean nuns from Carmelite Convent were taken. I could hear some betraying and the others refusing. But we found out later that no Korean nuns had been taken in; the Red Army put up a false show to frighten us.

On July 19th we left Seoul station. We were put into a cargo compartment. Our boxcar was so full of Koreans that we weren’t even able to stretch our legs. Some of the Koreans were quite good at Korean and they talked to us from time to time, so I could get the scent that they were watchmen. The officials put up false shows to frighten us. They stopped the train suddenly and lied to us that we were being attacked by robbers. Since we didn’t budge at all, they suddenly stopped the train again on a certain railroad bridge and threatened to kill us all. Again we remained calm and it made them angry. Full of grudge, they played a real act this time. One red army officer and a woman in the guise of a nun came in front and said dirty and foul words. The bogus nun read monastic vow, saying there is no such thing like monastic vow for a nation. As the nun did not vow to serve communism, the man took her virginity. The story was vulgar and horrible. I regretted that I could understand Korean so that I could listen to what a group of Satans making noise.


Taken in with US POWs

This train of Satans ran past three nights (ran only at night) and reached Pyong-yang on July 21st. They put us in a truck at 10 pm that night. The bus ran about 1 hour and we didn’t know where we were going. We got off the bus, walked about a few kilometers along rice fields, and finally got into a small building. Men and women were housed separately. Here I met an abbess of Anglican church Marie Clara, Madame Marrel, and a British reporter Dan and so on.
On September 5th, we were sent to Manpo camp, located 20 minutes walk away from the Yalu River. There wer 25 people housed in the facility: 2 Catholic bishops, 9 priests, 7 nuns, and 7 devotees. There were 61 foreigners:10 from Orthodox Church, 2 Anglicans, 5 Episcopalian, 2 Jews, 11 Islams. They came from many different nationalities: France, UK, US, Australia, Swiss, Austria, Germany, Turkey…. There were 750 US POWs. Skin diseases spread, men were delousing with their close off and there were about 50 US soldiers who died of pneumonia and dysentery at a time. Anyway we could eat something here at least, and we used to gather up in a room, sang hymns. On October 8th, we were sent again to Go-san-jin on foot. The camp facility here was Korean style grass hut that didn’t have proper doors or windows. So we had to block the wind with a straw bag picked up from the floor. The moon was our lamplight. Till then the life in camps were bearable.

At the end of October, chief of the camp came in. His nickname was ‘tiger’. He ordered us to walk to JungGangjin which is 250 kilometers away from the camp. It was 30 degree Celsius below. Wind blowing from Manchurian Plain was cutting cold. The march trail was about 600 Li long, along lofty peaks and steep mountain ridges. Since we were taken up in summer, we were all wearing thin summer clothes and sandals. “Don’t say anything. It’s an order. Walk or die, you choose.” The ‘tiger’, with a gun in his hand, said. The ‘death march’, started for all 700 of foreigners and US POWs. The death was waiting for us.

We walked past Manpo street. At 10pm, we got to a cornfield in countryside. Corns were all harvested and only dry leaves were left. We could use it as our bedclothes and made a fire to warm ourselves. We spent the night outside like this. When we got up in the morning, men had fringes of ice on their beards. Among US POWs, there were 10 people who died from cold. It was November 1st. The ‘tiger’ shouted: “No drop outs. We will bring all the sick and the dead bodies. More and more US POWs died. Everybody was starved, shivering with cold, and exhausted. We left the dead and the sick behind and walked. “Hurry! Hurry!” The merciless march continued as they poke us with the tip of their guns, just as they are on the trail of animals. I don’t know why they are in such a hurry. Maybe UN forces are chasing us. That night we stayed in a barn in a certain village. We could eat some corn rice. We continued the march again in the morning. US POWs threw the straw bags.


Going to Jung-gang-jin on foot

Those straw bags were precious since we could use it as bedclothes. But they had to throw them away because they were so exhausted. We nuns were also so exhausted. 5 of us gathered our rosaries and buried them in the furrow when nobody could notice. There is a Korean saying that you even pull out your eyebrows when you get tired of walking. And we nuns gave up rosaries. A red army platoon leader was at the tail of the queue with a machine gun, shooting those who were fallen on the ground, but still breathing. And then the ‘tiger’ kicked them off to cliff. There were 18 gunshots during the day of November 4th. Among the 750 US POWs, 100 were shot-killed. On November 3rd, the Mother Superior Beatrix died during march. She was the first victim among the Catholics. Her death was followed by series of losses. Red army ordnance soldiers ruthlessly shot those who were faltering before death. The march finally came to an end after the deaths of 18 US POWs and Mother Beatrix

The ‘tiger’ chief let all of us kneel down and have us show our respect to him by taking off our hats. And then he started to give us a lecture cursing the evil deeds of capitalism, while there were people dying. We the nuns from Carmelite Convent and the others from the Society of St. Vincent de Paul prayed: “Oh Holy Mother Mary please help us. Help your suffering children. We pray to you in our final hour of need.” We slept in mountains or corn fields for 4 days in a row. The death of Mother Beatrix was followed by a Russian madame(age:59). She was out of sight from a certain point. She was far behind the queue with her swollen ankle; it was out of question that she was dealt with. It was snowing on November 4th..We all hoped for a day of rest, but the ‘tiger’ let us down and pushed us on the forced march again. The snow was covering our ankles and didn’t stop. The mountain path was slippery and
The wind blowing from Tuman hit my cheeks. I was out of breath. I felt so thirsty. I picked the icicle dangling on the thorn bush to quench the thirst. Now, nobody feared death; we even longed for the death to come, just like we wait for a close friend’s visit. One of the watches asked us: “When you get back to your country after the war, please don’t tell anybody about the execution of US POWs.”

We walked and waked. On November 5th, we finally arrived in Jung-gang-jin. The guards who brought us seemed lost about where to bring us now. They brought us here and there wandering in a town Jung-gang-jin and put us in a big school. In the morning, Mother Marie Glara died of heart attack. From November 8th, they forced us to exercise in the playground, for 1 and a half hour everyday. Father Woo, 81, was facing the hour of death and could not come out to exercise. But the ‘tiger’ didn’t listen to any reason. He yelled vociferously to get Father Woo out in the playground. The other fathers couldn’t help bringing out Woo on a straw bag. It was minus 30 degree Celsius.


Barely managed to live with corns in -30℃

Father Woo managed to stand 3 more days. On 11th, he died on the straw bag in the playground. He screamed: “Lord, how much do I have to suffer till I die!” It was the end of his 57 years of religious life. On November 12th, this time it was Father Gong, the leader of Carmelite Convent. Father Gong, with clear eyes, looked around. His little brother, Father Gong, couldn’t keep back his tears and prayed: “My brother, you are now going to the Lord. He will be waiting for you with a good place to stay. You were always so faithful to him.” He lost his voice in tears. Father Gong peacefully drew his last breath. His brother, Father Gong, suddenly died the next day; he had been suffering dysentery. They became priests on the same day. A few days after 50 years of life in faiths, they faced 6.25, and went to the Lord one by one. We lit a stove and ate a few corn grains and. An American woman drank water in enamel wear and washed her face with cabbage soup we were given, which was almost like dishwater.

We had to move again on November 16th. The sick decided to wait for something to ride and the people healthy(?) started to walk. Mother Theresa of Carmelite Convent felt so tired; she managed to move, 30 Li at night, by holding arms of Mother Belladetta. We stopped in the middle of nowhere. The guards expelled the people in a private house and used it as a one-night camp. It was a average-size private house. 20 people were crammed into one room and it was too small. We couldn’t even sit down. Mother and the Abbess were order to walk but they couldn’t. The guards who felt pity on them, watching them walking in the arms of POWs, allowed them to a cart filled with millet. It was freezing cold, the mountain road was so steep and the cart was shaking so badly; they tied the two on the cart. They moaned on the swaying cart till the next day and left for eternal peace. November 19th, Mother Theresa felt pain in the flank, very tired, and had high fever. A Father who studied medicine examined her and asked for an aspirin, but there was no way we could get it. We took off our own clothes to cover her, but her body was turning stiff already. “Mother Theresa! Hold our hands if you can hear us!” We cried out but she didn’t answer. We all shed tears under the cope of pitch-black night. On November 25th, Papal envoy Bishop Bhang died.


As many as 19 priests victimized

When Bishop Bhang fell into serious condition, the guards ordered to move him to the People’s hospital. The hospital is an isolated hut, which we call a ‘morgue’. It was a cold house without any nurses. The mere purpose of this facility was to justify that the sick people were at least treated in the hospital before they die. Bishop Bhang died after three days of moaning in the cold room, covered in a piece of blanket. He was buried in a village called Hachang-ri, the south of Jung-gang-jin. Father in Daejeon parish, suffering diabetes, pushed away millet grains: “I can’t eat it anymore. I’ll follow the others who died.” And he passed away on January 6th, 1951. The time passed but the freedom never came. Including Father Victor, there were 16 priests and nuns who were victimized during the death march. 3 more people died in the following year. The guards forced us to exercise everyday in -30~ -40℃. We finished shortly, but the US POWs continued the exercise more than an hour. Every morning, 4 or 5 US soldiers died of pneumonia; we were ill-fed, and wearing summer clothes in the cold weather. A Turkish woman cried, looking at the POWs: “Oh… their legs are even thinner than my six-year old son. How can a man fall into condition like this bad?” US soldiers used their cap to eat the watery millet soup. They could not get medical support and 60~70% of them were dying. This life went on for 2 years and 9 months till April 17th, 1953, from place to place such as JungGang-jin, to Manpo, and to Soonchang.
Things slightly got better after Chinese army took charge of supervision. When the time was ripe for armistice talks, the red army called us to PyeongYang. They gave us coats and sign the paper saying “We thank the Great leader Kim Il-Sung for the warm and humanitarian treatment all the while.” We went back to our own motherland via Moscow. We were so happy and couldn’t even get to sleep at night. It was January 29th 1954.