War Baby- Devil Child

"War Baby- Devil Child"

A Journey of Self-Identity

March of 1956, it had been three years since Korea had been torn by Civil war, a Cold War between Communism and the Free World. The ‘Land of Morning Calm’Seoul was filled with homeless and poor, struggling to live day by day. suffered three years of total war that ravaged the country and people, separating millions from each other, and left it still divided. Korean civilians were caught in the middle and killed by both sides, victims of savage, total modern war. The entire country was shattered, all aspects of civilization crushed. In the ashes of flattened buildings, the capital of Seoul, Korea.

A young Korean mother cautiously brought her four-year old son and one year old daughter through the streets of downtown Seoul. The young woman knew that because her children’s father had been a ‘foreign devil’, that they would always be cursed and rejected by her people. She dyed their light brown hair with black shoe polish to hide them better but their faces still looked strange and noticeable. (Korean people called her children “TuiGi/튀기” a pure Korean word that means “Child of the Dust or Nothingness”, a derogatory slang word, used for Black/Korean ‘breeds’ but also for all ‘mixed-blood’ children. It had another meaning, a “child of a devil”. A nicer term is HonHyolA (혼혈아) from the Chinese and Korean words that still have racist connotations of ’half-breed’ or’ mixed-blood’).

Several thousand ‘mixed-blooded’ children were scattered throughout Korea living on the streets near military bases. Some were by-products of desperate Korean women servicing foreign troops as ‘camp followers’, entertainers who sang, danced, or provided sexual gratification. It was the only way, the best way, to earn a living. The troops had cash, food, and PX privileges, in exchange for services and entertainment. Laundry women, houseboys, bar owners, shop owners, prostitutes, thieves stealing anything and everything from the bases, all supported extended networks of Korean society. It has always been the same in times of war throughout history. The children born of these various liaisons were a rainbow of ethnicities representing the 22 United Nations Command troops. ‘War Babies’, ‘G.I. Babies’, they were the outcasts of Korean society, and ‘dust of the streets’ (“The Unforgotten War: Dust of the Streets” by Thomas Park Clement).

Few people had extra food for strangers, barely enough for their own. Then the young mother heard a rumor; find the flag of their father flying over a building near the city hall. Unwanted children were being collected and sent to homes in their father’s countries. There they could have hope and a good life. The determined young mother finally finds the flag of their American father waving over the Reception Center of World Vision. Outside the gate of the compound many Korean people watch in amazement at the strange sight of ‘Woi Gook In/외국인(Foreigners) and the ‘mixed-blood’ children. Then a kind looking foreigner, a man in his fifties, noticed them lingering near the gate in uncertainty. The American man, Harry Holt, approached them with a warm smile, called over a young Korean Pastor, David Kim, to help speak to them. Looking into his strange round eyes, her fear diminished. There she saw a deep concern and love. He gently reached out his strong hands, took her son’s hand and wordlessly he guided them through the gate.

Who am I? Search for Identity

My name is Donald Gordon Bell, I was that young boy and my younger sister, Lorelei Susan Bell, was the baby. We were some of the earliest Holt adoptees- my flight was the first group from Holt and my sister was on the first Chartered flight in 1956. I believed that our mothers gave us up, in love but with much sorrow, hoping for a good American family to take us, providing what she could never give us under the circumstances. I cannot imagine what she thought or felt, did she leave us and just forget? I don’t believe so, and by reading and hearing how many birth mothers suffered through the years wondering what happened, has helped me mentally understand and forgive. I will attempt to share my journey on this humble blog. I will be brutally open and honest as much as possible.

Image by UNC - CFC - USFK via Flickr