The Cheonan Forty-Six

The Cheonan, Pennant number PCC-772, was a Korean Naval vessel that went down March 27th. It had been charged with anti-submarine coastal guardianship. While on the South Korean side of the Northern Limit Line, crew members reported hearing a loud explosion at around 21:20. Less than five minutes later, the ship was gone. There was simply not enough time for an evacuation. Of the 104 crew members oaboard the Cheonan, 58 made it out alive. After an analysis of the hull, experts now believe the explosion was caused by an external source, possible a mine or torpedo.

Yesterday while walking home I saw a young boy, around seven or eight, going down the street in a sailor's costume with bell bottoms, collar and cap. As I walked behind, my imagination wove a little tale...that his older brother had been one of the Cheonan 46 and that he now wore the suit in memory of him, whom he'd so sweetly loved and looked up to...I knew how stupid the daydream was, that he was probably just wearing it the way kids wear cowboy hats and princess dresses, but the image had been laid and it made no difference whether it was true. I felt heartbroken. None of the news reports had touched me as deeply as this.

Today I took the train down to Suwon. The weather's was priceless and I intended to sit in a cafe by the window and watch people pass. Coming out of the exit, there was a tent with a row of flowers inside and the framed pictures of the fallen forty-six. I looked at them each carefully, studying their features, observing the unvaried portraits as though they were paintings in a museum...struck by how young so many were. A man in a suit came up and laid a white flower in front of one of the pictures, then dropped incense in a burner and stepped back to pray while the smoke passed through the tent and into the street.