Free The Investigation by Jung-myung Lee Page B

was planning to lead an attack on the Kwantung Army’s Mukden headquarters.
    The Kwantung Army marched through the hills at battalion strength. Instead of mobilizing the troops, the Japanese commander waited for the guerrillas to emerge on their own. A long confrontation
ensued. The rugged geography was on the rebels’ side. The gang climbed over the cliffs and left the valley before the Kwantung Army reached the cave. Choi headed towards the Siberian Maritime
Province with more than twenty men. They lived like wild creatures of the night, scaling mountains after dark and sleeping under leaves during the day. When they arrived at their destination, the
gang had shrunken to fourteen; cold, hunger and beasts had reduced their ranks. Rumours about the fearsome band of thieves from Mukden preceded them to the Siberian Maritime Province, where they
were organized under the command of the Russian Communists. That was where Choi encountered Marx’s ideas; Choi’s talent for fighting and dreams of destroying the Japs grew even fiercer.
Six months later he’d turned into a loyal Communist. His unit attacked a Japanese ordnance corps and seized its train and assassinated a Kwantung Army general and commander; the Siberian
Maritime Province soon became their territory. But it wasn’t enough for Choi; he knew he was fated for greatness. Wanting more intense battles with more enemies, he headed to Vladivostok. He
sneaked into the belly of a ship, covered in the stench of disintegrating produce and fish, and disembarked in brightly lit Tokyo Bay three days later.
    The Communist organization extended like a vine everywhere; in Tokyo it was centred on Korean students studying abroad, who had learned about Communism from books and didn’t know how to
act on their rage. They stayed up all night memorizing manuals on fighting, but didn’t know how to apply their learning to the Japs. They agonized over their sterile ideology, debating
useless theory hundreds of times. Choi blamed books for delaying revolution; in his mind, writing was a tool that allowed the powerful to oppress the weak for thousands of years. The rich
incarcerated the poor using law books, loan sharks oppressed the poor with their ledgers, and officials had used the king’s directives to suck the people dry. He couldn’t wait for a
book-free world. He attended a Korean student meeting in Tokyo and mocked them: ‘You so-called intellectuals have imprisoned yourselves behind letters,’ he announced.
‘You’re weak. You’re unable to take any action. That’s what the Japs want – to create bookworms who can’t act. You want to overthrow the Japs, but all you do is
wriggle in the mud.’
    Disgusted, Choi established his own Communist cell in the Tokyo area. Soon there was a spike in arson and attacks on officials, bankers and the heads of defence contractors. The Special Higher
Police didn’t realize that they were the acts of a foreign Communist; they thought they were isolated instances of increased violence as society became unsettled. Three years after he arrived
in Japan, Choi planned the best plot of his life, the one attack that would return the whole warped situation to normal. It was 29 April, the Emperor’s birthday. He would bomb the
Emperor’s celebration at Ueno Park, attended by high-level army generals, the Interior Minister and others. His assistant was a Korean student named Kim Gwing-pil, who had been studying
chemistry at Rikkyo University when he received his conscription notice. He’d been on the run since then. Kim, who wore round eye-glasses, looked every bit the intellectual. Choi asked if he
could make a bomb. Kim assented, requesting a hideout in return. He stayed up all night, reading books about gunpowder and explosives that Choi procured for him. No matter what happened, he had to
make a bomb by 28 April.
    Two days before the big event Kim handed over two bombs he’d made over several sleepless nights. Choi