Cho progressed slowly, sticking close to buildings, pausing and listening as well as looking before crossing any open ground. Shortly after he started, he heard machine gun fire behind him, in the direction the troop carrier had headed, followed by more weapons fire and explosions. He judged it to be moderately close, although he’d thought the battle lines were farther north. More incentive to go south, but he fought the urge to hurry.
For most of the time, he might have been moving through an empty city. Occasionally he’d see a flash of movement as he turned a corner, or a face in a window. Many residents had fled in the afternoon after the broadcast, or during the night, with the remainder either dead, arrested, or in hiding.
There were enough bodies on many streets, either in uniform or civilian clothes, although civilian clothes didn’t mark one as a noncombatant. Only very old or very young men, and women of any age, could be considered true civilians. He’d hidden from groups of heavily armed men that were not in any uniform, and even from individuals, whether they had visible weapons or not.
Moving in the morning daylight was definitely more hazardous than nighttime, and Cho became grateful for the smoky haze that cut the visibility, even though it made his eyes sting. A fine layer of dust and grit also coated his clothes and provided natural camouflage.
Cho’s only goal was to work his way south and look for troop concentrations, while avoiding being seen and shot at by said troops. A lot of soldiers in one area meant some sort of base, and if it wasn’t the headquarters, it might provide a clue to the headquarters’ location.
Careful and cautious, he covered ground, always moving in a southerly direction. He spotted more uniformed bodies, but they appeared disturbingly fresh, the bloodstains wet. They still had their weapons, but Cho easily resisted the temptation to pick one up. There was already a good chance of him being shot on sight. Carrying a gun made it a certainty.
He’d stopped to check the bodies for water or food, which meant first checking them for booby traps. With his attention concentrated on searching for hidden grenades or other hazards, he’d failed to notice the tank turning onto the street several blocks behind him to the north. At least, that’s what he’d told himself later, trying to comfort an ego badly bruised at being surprised by a tank.
The tank crew’s attention may have been attracted by his movements. They may have thought the enemy soldiers were lying prone, or they simply had orders to shoot up anything suspicious. Cho’s first warning was the deep cracking sound of the tank cannon, and the shell striking the building above and behind him. Luckily, the high-explosive shell didn’t detonate until it was inside the structure. Enveloped in a choking cloud of smoke and dust, battered by pieces of falling brick and masonry, he hugged the ground as machine gun bullets kicked up dust around him.
He heard a scream nearby, and at first thought one of the soldiers was not dead, but then realized it was from behind him.
He turned his head to look, still keeping as low as possible, and saw an opening in the building where the shell had blown the wall out. He could see into the ground floor and the basement below it. There was movement in the basement level, and people, and he heard more cries, of pain and fear.
The tank’s diesel engine and the sound of its treads were getting louder. In half a moment, the remaining smoke would clear and the tank crew’s aim would improve significantly. Cho considered playing dead, but was worried that he didn’t appear dead enough. He decided the basement represented a better option, at least in the short term.
He low-crawled backward, covering the five meters in what seemed to be a few swift movements, and half-slid backward down a pile of sloping debris into the basement. The dimness of the basement was enhanced by the cloud of cement dust that hung in the air. Unlike the outside, there was nowhere for it to go, and it divided the room into brilliant dust-filled sunbeams and opaque shadows.
Cho scrambled out of the light toward a dark corner and had to stop short, because it was occupied. A middle-aged woman hugged two children, while an older woman sat leaning against the wall. They were covered with dust, but he could see blood on one of the children’s arms, and on the mother’s shoulder — a lot of blood there.
Out of the sunlight, his eyes quickly adjusted and he could see two more people, a young couple, in another corner, both as far away from the new opening as possible. He agreed with their strategy and headed for a clear spot next to the wall.
The family near him and the couple in the corner looked at the newcomer suspiciously. Cho ignored them and hunkered down in the corner, moving a few pieces of masonry to make more room.
The machine gun fire had stopped, and he heard the tank’s engine as it ground ahead. Once it was past, he’d have to…
The tank had stopped again. It was much closer than before. And then he heard voices. He searched his memory. In that fleeting glimpse of the tank firing at him, had there been infantry following behind it?
He looked around the room more carefully. It appeared to be an office, with a few old metal desks, filing cabinets, and obligatory posters on the wall. Paper and scraps of paper littered the floor. Everything was layered with dust and grime, which made it hard to see any detail in the dim light.
There. A door, in the center of the same wall they crouched against. He almost leapt over the woman in his haste, and began shifting the debris that blocked it. He tried to be quiet, but every piece of rubble he moved caused others to fall. To Cho, it sounded like an avalanche.
“What are you doing?” the older child, a girl of maybe ten, asked curiously. Her high, piping voice pierced the dark and dust.
Cho, struggling to free the door, hissed, “Quiet, child!” He gestured with his head toward the opening above. The girl didn’t understand, but the mother did, and told her daughter to hush. She then struggled to her feet and gathered her family. Moving must have been painful for her, but by the time Cho was through the half-open door, they hurried after him.
Cho’s only thought was to get away from the opening to the street. The door had led them into a basement hallway, pitch dark. He was still trying to choose which direction to go when a loud WHAM echoed from behind him, followed immediately by another WHAM a few moments later that staggered him. The family group let out small shrieks of surprise and fear, and Cho decided the direction he was facing would have to do.
The hallway was clear, and they all stumbled along. His outstretched hand felt a corner in the wall, and he followed it, the family close behind. He paused for a moment to listen for any sounds of pursuit, but there were none.
The mother asked in a whisper, “Are they following?”
After a long pause, Cho answered, “No.” And then after another pause, added, “They probably think two grenades are enough.” They aren’t paying me enough for this.
“Thank you for saving us,” the mother said, and the older woman offered her thanks as well.
Cho shook his head — a silly gesture in the pitch dark — and replied, “I saved myself. You just followed.”
“A wise man shows his back,” the grandmother quoted. It was an old Korean folk saying that praised leading by example, with his followers behind.