The Line Between Us: Part II

Chapter 12: When Silence Spoke for Us

He slipped the compass back into his pocket.

"그 전차 몰고 그리로 가자."
("We'll take the KPA tank and head that way.")

He paused, the plan settling between them like a stone.

"위험한 건 나도 알아. 연료도 오래 못 버틸 거야. 그래도 동해 쪽으로 조금이라도 가면... 그땐 걸어서 가면 돼."
("I know it's risky. The tank will run out of fuel. Even if we don't make it all the way to the east coast, at least we'll get closer-then we'll go on foot.")

He set his jaw.

"해안에 닿으면... 배를 구해서, 쓰시마로 가자."
("Once we reach the shore, I can seize a boat-get us to Tsushima, Japan.")

Min-jae shook his head sharply.

"안 돼! 그게 말이 돼? 불가능해! 그리고... 내 가족은 부산에 있어! 나 혼자 갈 순 없어!"
("Wait! It's not that simple. This plan-it's impossible! And my family's in Pusan. I can't just leave them!")

Joon-seok reached for both of Min-jae's hands and held them as if anchoring him.

"알아... 그래도 해봐야지. 이렇게만 있을 순 없잖아."
("I know... but at least we'll try, rather than doing nothing.")

He took a deep breath.

"전쟁이 끝나면... 그땐 꼭 부산으로 돌아가자. 하지만 지금은 살아야 해. 날 믿어, 민재야."
("I promise you-when the war ends, we'll go back to Pusan. But for now, we have to survive. Trust me, Min-jae-ya.")

They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Min-jae hesitated, the conflict clear on his face: duty to family, the fear of desertion, the kind of trust that felt impossible. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.

By the third week of August 1950, morning broke over the hills of Pohang-dong.

On a grassy slope, Sun-hee and Ji-hoon lay flat on their stomachs, helmets strapped tight, rifles braced against their shoulders. Side by side with a cluster of South Korean soldiers, their bodies were half-hidden, branches and leaves laid thick around them for cover. Rifle shots cracked from their line.

Across the hill, North Korean troops lay prone in firing positions, answering with sharp bursts of rifle fire.

The gunfire faltered, silence stretching for a breath-then heads tilted skyward.

Out of the morning haze, a formation of U.S. aircraft swept across the heavens in perfect line. Engines roared like thunder, shadows streaking over the hills.

A heartbeat later, the sky rained fire. Explosions ripped through the ridges where the North Korean troops lay entrenched, the ground shuddering under the force. Flames blossomed, smoke billowed thick and black, and the hillside seemed to vanish into chaos-men swallowed whole by fire and ash.

Relief washed over the South Korean soldiers huddled on the slope. Dirt streaked their faces, but Ji-hoon's gaze found Sun-hee's, and a faint, shared smile passed between them. His voice was low, almost a whisper, yet carried the weight of satisfaction.

"포항은... 우리가 지켜냈네."
("I guess... our defense at Pohang worked,")

They held the look for a heartbeat before turning their attention back to the smoking ridges across the hill, the echoes of fire and chaos still lingering over the battlefield.

That night, the camp came alive beneath the dim glow of oil lamps set upon the ground. Their light spilled across the field, catching on the canvas of nearby tents. Shadows danced as a cluster of South Korean soldiers-including Ji-hoon-gathered with their American and UN allies, laughter rose with the crackle of a fire, mugs clinked as they drank, and the savory smoke of wild boar roasting across the table curled into the night air. Voices carried with pride and relief, celebrating the hard-fought defense of Pohang.