正視韓國在越戰中的傷痛
Confronting Korea's agony in Vietnam
If the Korean conflict was America's "forgotten war," then Vietnam fills the same historical niche for Koreans. While looking back on the great tragedy of their modern history, the Korean War, in which more than 2 million people died, few Koreans remember how or why their country fought as America's bought-and-paid-for ally in the jungles of Vietnam.
The United States persuaded the Korean dictator, Park Chung Hee, to send two full divisions of his best troops to Vietnam. The payoff was clear. The United States would go on supporting Park as he tightened the screws on his people — ramming through a constitution that stripped away free-speech rights — and would guarantee defense against North Korea with all the troops, weapons and money he wanted. The Korean soldiers won a reputation as the toughest and cruelest of any units from any force in the Vietnam War.
Dissidents who were willing to risk jail and torture during the era of the 1960s and early '70s rarely, if ever, demonstrated against the Korean presence in Vietnam. A song of the time, whose title translates roughly as, "Sergeant Kim Returning From Vietnam," welcomed the Korean soldiers home as heroes.
The song endures in the Korean consciousness — touching and haunting, catchy and uplifting. And its spirit lives again, as part of a show called "Blue Saigon," at the National Theater. A dying man in a hospital bed, a Vietnam veteran, looks back on the suffering he inflicted as a soldier. He is Sergeant Kim Moon Suk, played by Lee Jae Hwan, writhing in agony years after a war in which he survived while all his men were killed in battle.
The director of "Blue Saigon," Kwon Ho Sung, who wrote the music and collaborated on the lyrics with Kim Jung Sook, said they did not intend the show, first produced here six years ago, as an anti-war statement. "You can't find anti-war words anywhere," he said. "But the whole show is about the tragedy of the war, so it has an unspoken anti-war message."
Kwon, whose father served as a captain in Vietnam, is aware of the sensitivities that "Blue Saigon" probes. "My father criticizes this show because all the Korean soldiers got killed and it appears the Viet Cong won the game," he said. "Why," his father has asked him, "did you make a musical of defeat?"
Unlike the Broadway and West End classic, "Miss Saigon," a story of love found and lost in the evacuation of Saigon in 1975, "Blue Saigon" is not about final defeat in the war. It's about the futility of a single patrol in 1967 in the jungle near Khe Sanh, the U.S. Marine base that was abandoned after a siege by North Vietnamese and Viet Cong troops in 1968.
The show is also about the suffering of a Vietnamese bar hostess, played by Kang Hyo Sang, who has been appearing in musicals and plays in Korea for 20 years. She loves the sergeant, but is a member (with her fanatical brother) of the Viet Cong, to whom she betrays the Koreans. Like "Miss Saigon," which Kwon says did not provide inspiration for the show, bar girls prance and dance through production numbers while the major figures, the sergeant and the hostess, sing ballads and her Viet Cong brother revels in bloodlust. There is even at one point the roar of whirling helicopter blades, though thankfully no great copter scene that might encourage still more comparisons with "Miss Saigon."
"The background is the Vietnam War," said Hwang Kyeong Hwan, a manager on the production team, "but what we're trying to show is a universal theme, not just an accident of history but the tragedy of human beings, the sadness of war, the craziness of war." The craziness comes through in some of the ironies. Sergeant Kim, while dying back in Korea, remembers having been forced as a child by invading North Korean troops to betray people who were known to be anti-communist in his southern village. In Vietnam, he and the bar hostess have a son who, in the end, visits Korea to see the land of his father, by this time dead, the victim not of wounds but of the lingering after-effects of the Agent Orange used by the Americans to deforest wide areas of jungle.
Kwon said that he and Kim Jung Sook had originally wanted to call the show "Return From Vietnam," but decided on "Blue Saigon," the recurring theme song, in hopes of appealing to a younger generation. "Young people don't understand the name 'Vietnam' at all," said Kwon, whereas "blue," understood by Koreans as a code word for sad, would convey the tragedy of the sergeant and the hostess's relationship.
"Other documents, movies and books just praise how we won the game," said Kwon. "I wanted to describe the soldiers who were killed, to show that war is not always a success. It's not important to portray a victorious war."
In the case of Korean participation in Vietnam, he added, patriotism was not the only motive that compelled soldiers to volunteer to go. "Actually, the reason on the surface for them to fight was to protect the country," said Kwon, but that logic made sense only to those who saw the struggle between South and North Vietnam as analogous to South Korea's defense against North Korea. Beyond that level, one had to believe in a kind of extended domino theory — that victory for North Vietnam and the communists in the south would precipitate the same denouement in the protracted standoff for the Korean peninsula.
And, said Kwon, "Many people volunteered to go to Vietnam to make money. At the end of a year there, a soldier could earn a sizable amount" — in the form of a bonus added on to one's regular military pay. "Back home they could buy homes, cows for their farms, with all the money they earned." In those days he said, "Korea was very poor, and the bonus made all the difference to some people." Nonetheless, "Those who went there definitely thought they fought for Korea," Kwon added. "Our contribution did a lot for the economy."
Should Koreans, years later, feel guilty about whatever happened to them, whatever they did, in Vietnam?
"Sergeant Kim has been suffering from guilt feelings all his life," said Kwon. The guilt comes through in other-worldly scenes in which a woman appears ghost-like by his deathbed, singing "Blue Saigon."
The woman, played by Lee Sung Jin, another veteran of Korean musicals, tells him it's time to leave behind the suffering he inflicted and endured. One legacy of the horror is Sergeant Kim's wheelchair-bound daughter, born with birth defects caused by the Agent Orange in her father's system. "Daddy, Daddy, I'm sick here, everywhere," she says. Her half-brother, meanwhile, born of the Vietnamese bar hostess, says in disillusionment, "I finally came to my father's land."
"Such things are not talked about often," Kwon said. "It's a war that has been forgotten. Agent Orange is one example. None of the Korean soldiers were compensated for Agent Orange suffering." But, he added, "this drama is not intentionally focused on social issues."
"My intention was to touch the human heart." Judging by the response of some members of the audience, stunned into silence or tears, "Blue Saigon" has found its target among the few South Koreans still concerned about their country's role in a nasty conflict that has largely faded from collective memory.
留言
張貼留言