Black Flower (32 page)

The hammering ended with a clamor, and dozens of people pulled on ropes to hoist Ignacio’s cross upright. They tried several times but lost their balance, and Ignacio slammed to the ground. He screamed like an animal and cried. He desperately prayed the Hail Mary. But no one could understand him.

Seeing Ignacio like that, Choe Seongil thanked God that he had lost consciousness. Gunfire rang out from afar. The reinforcements of Governor Alvarado were entering the square from the north. The mob, having finished their looting and executions, fled into the twisted alleys of the market to the south. Someone approached Choe Seongil and aimed a gun at his head. Choe Seongil closed his eyes. “Hurry, hurry!” he pleaded. The conclusion was not as long as he thought it would be. With a bang, everything ended. Choe Seongil enjoyed a feeling of peace that he had never before experienced. There was no pain and no rage. There was only the feeling that a long and tedious journey had finally come to an end. Suddenly his spirit, floating high in the sky, was looking down on the chaos of the square before the cathedral. Like a close-up in a film, he saw Ignacio Velásquez’s end as well. Someone swung a sword at him as he lay on the ground, still nailed to the cross. He was being sliced up like a fish on a cutting board.

With this, the shaman’s second prophecy was fulfilled. “When the flames move and the sound of thunder is heard, death will come quick. Death!”

P
ANCHO
V
ILLA WAS
chewing on a chicken leg and staring at a map. His staff officers stood around him, leaning over the map. Something bothered him about the fact that the army of Obregón, who had been driven away to Veracruz, had skirted around Mexico City and entered Querétaro. The region of Jalisco, including Guadalajara, was strategically vital to Villa’s northern division and Zapata’s southern division. Obregón’s intentions were clear: he was trying to divide them. Villa set up his corps headquarters in the city of Irapuato, on the border of Jalisco. In accordance with Villa’s orders, Ijeong stopped the slaughter in Mexico City and moved to the military headquarters. Villa’s troops and Obregón’s troops faced each other at a distance of seventy miles.

Pancho Villa liked to scare his enemies out of their wits with a thunderous cavalry charge, and this tactic was also well suited to his character. He had to lure the enemy out onto the plains in order to effect the charge, but the foolish enemy commander Obregón had crawled down onto the plains of his own accord. Villa’s confidence soared and his troops’ morale was high. For his part, Obregón devoted all his energy to acquiring cannons and machine guns. Unlike Villa, Obregón knew well the lessons of the Great War that had broken out in Europe not long before. He could not overlook the power of Villa’s lightning charges, but he could apply methods used on the battlefields of France and Belgium: if one dug deep trenches and laid down barbed wire before them and fired machine guns from behind them, the cavalry charge that was Villa’s forte could be neutralized. So the plains of Celaya, which Villa had thought were to his advantage, were perfectly suited to Obregón’s plans as well. Irrigation ditches for wheat farming stretched out left and right on the flat ground, and if these were dug a little deeper and a bulwark raised in front, they would be ideal for use as military trenches. Obregón mobilized fifteen thousand troops, dug his trenches, set up fifteen cannons and about one hundred of the latest machine guns, and waited for the decisive battle.

The Villista general Felipe Ángeles counseled against a great battle. “Obregón is luring us. If we simply cut off his supplies and stall for time, he will surrender. Their supply lines are growing longer now. It would be to our advantage to cut off his supplies with Zapata’s troops and wait for our chance. The enemy is the one who wants a quick battle and a quick conclusion.” In the end, his words were correct, but they were not the right words to convince a man like Villa. Villa, the former bandit, was a thug to the bone. In the world of thugs, cowardice was even more hated than death. Thus Ángeles’s advice only strengthened Villa’s determination. He had led a mere eight thugs across the Rio Grande and had ultimately become a general who led tens of thousands of troops. Why should he do now what he had not done when he led only eight? Villa also knew that Zapata’s troops were nothing more than a disorderly rabble that had no skill in regular warfare. He had entrusted the storming of Veracruz to Zapata’s troops, but they had not been able to advance a single step. He thought of himself as the only person able to turn the tide of the revolution back in their favor.

Before daybreak on April 6, 1915, Ijeong was cleaning his gun with the soldiers. Miguel approached and offered him a cigarette. Ijeong lit it and said, “Villa’s probably going to give the order to attack soon, isn’t he?” Miguel nodded. “I saw the cavalry saddling their horses.” Ijeong blew out smoke and asked Miguel, “You really think a permanent revolution is possible?” Miguel looked at Ijeong for some time, to try to judge his thoughts. “Look here, politics is all a dream. Democracy, communism, anarchism, it’s all the same. They were all created so we could shoot at each other.” Miguel lifted his gun. “This comes first, and words come later. Of course I believe that. Even if I didn’t believe it, that’s the only way. I was seventeen when I first killed a man. Back then I was with Zapata’s troops. And now I serve under Villa. Yet nothing has changed for me.”

When the sun rose, Villa gave the order for his infantry units to advance. He did not use his cavalry, his strength, because he had seen the long trenches and barbed wire stretched out across Obregón’s encampment and the gleaming barrels of the machine guns. Even Villa knew what that meant. Because machine guns had a shorter range and were less accurate than rifles, Villa’s troops had the upper hand early in the battle. They pushed Obregón’s forces from the city of Celaya and entered it. Ijeong’s regiment formed the vanguard. A member of the regiment took the belfry of Celaya’s cathedral and went up and rang the bell excitedly. When the clear, rich sound of the bell reached the battlefield, the morale of Villa’s troops rose.

Yet Ijeong’s rhythm was severely disturbed by the sudden sound of the bell. It was as if it had stirred up some sediment that had lain quietly inside him. Only then did he realize, paradoxically, that he owed that quiet, that indifference, to war. Thanks to war, he had been able to hide and hold back all the desires and conflicts inside. Thanks to the rigorous tension demanded by shooting, maneuvering, and commanding, he was free from the past he had left behind. The place where no one would reproach him for this was the battlefield. But the piercing, bright bell of Celaya shook him. Beneath that belfry, as bullets flew back and forth, he remembered the flame-shaped arch of Chunchucmil hacienda and Yeonsu’s warm body. He remembered his trembling hands when he pulled the trigger for his first murder and his second murder. Had Miguel not approached and touched him, he might have stood there, lost in thought, for some time. “Hey, Kim,” Miguel said, “something’s not right. I think Obregón is going to counterattack soon. He retreated a little too quickly.”

Bak Jeonghun stood next to Obregón and watched the progress of the battle with him. They had also heard the bell of Celaya. Obregón was not particularly disturbed by it, and he reinforced his troops and ordered them to push forward. He arranged the machine gunners all along the line and suppressed Villa’s riflemen. Obregón had the upper hand in numbers as well. Even Obregón’s own unit, of which Bak Jeonghun was a part, participated in the battle and showered Villa’s troops with bullets. It had been a long time since Bak Jeonghun had participated in a real battle. This weighed far less on his mind than aiming his rifle at the guerrillas of his own country as a soldier in the strange army of a small and weak nation, and an army commanded in turn by Japan and Russia at that. He did not care whether it was Obregón or Villa. Yet judging by Obregón’s character, he felt that it would not be such a bad thing for him to become the leader of Mexico. With the curious philosophical attitude common to mercenaries, he calmly joined the battle. Bak and Obregón’s unit advanced to the bell tower of Celaya. Bak aimed at the Villista in the belfry who was ringing the bell. That soldier determined their morale, so he had to be taken out quickly. Bak’s bullet struck the bell. Ping! A sharp report rang out. The soldier dropped flat. The moment he lifted his head to locate the enemy, the second bullet pierced his forehead. Blood splattered on the white walls of the belfry. At that, Ijeong’s regiment abandoned the belfry and retreated. Bak Jeonghun climbed to the third story of a building in the center of Celaya and aimed his gun at the retreating file of Villa’s troops. Into his field of vision came a familiar face, a Korean face, though it was covered by a beard. Ijeong. The boy had become a young man. Bak Jeonghun did not pull the trigger and waited for the regiment to pass.

The offensive and defensive skirmishes between Obregón’s and Villa’s troops continued throughout the night. The battle left the streets of Celaya and ended on the evening of the next day, April 7. Villa’s troops had retreated all the way to their headquarters in Irapuato and regrouped. It was a day of humiliation for Villa. But Obregón was not happy. His goal had been not merely to defeat Villa’s army but to annihilate it. If he did not cut their throats this time, there was no doubt that Villa, who was skilled in both guerrilla and regular warfare, would continue to hound him.

In order to break through the slow tide of battle, Villa resolved to sweep the enemy away with one of his cavalry charges. With reinforcements arriving from Jalisco and Michoacán, Villa’s forces totaled 30,000 men. His cavalry was intact and he outnumbered his enemy two to one. He thought that he could simply go around the barbed wire. On April 13, Pancho Villa ordered his cavalry to charge. The northern cavalry, a legend of the Mexican Revolution, galloped out at once to the sound of trumpets. But the horses hesitated before the barbed wire, and at that moment Obregón’s machine guns shot forth flame. Bak Jeonghun’s rifle repeatedly spit fire from his position in the rear. Obregón steadily racked up points as horses without their riders and riders without their horses ran pell-mell before the barbed wire. On the other side, Villa committed the error of ordering the waiting second and third lines to attack. Obregón’s troops toppled Villa’s pride without budging from their trenches. This reckless charge continued all day. Between 3,000 and 3,500 cavalry were lost.

On the fifteenth, Obregón ordered General Cesáreo Castro’s 7,000-strong cavalry, which he had not used even in his direst moment, to go around Villa’s flank and attack from behind. Villa’s remaining infantry fell futilely before Castro’s cavalry, which galloped in like a storm. Ijeong heard the sound of 7,000 mounted men thundering toward him. It sounded as if a giant had taken hold of the mountains and shaken them, to tear them out by their roots. Already most of the infantry had lost their will to fight and begun to flee at the roar and the shaking of the earth. The cavalry seemed to come down from on high like the armies of heaven, rampaging across the battlefield, bringing their swords down on the heads and shoulders of the infantry. Ijeong ran toward Villa’s headquarters. He thought it would hold out the longest. His judgment was correct. Obregón’s cavalry met significant resistance in its attempt to penetrate the center. Loyal troops risked their lives to defend Villa. Ijeong was ultimately able to join Villa’s file as it fled to the south.

The Villistas, who had been invincible legends, were devastated by the cavalry tactics that had been their forte. Villa ordered retreat after retreat. Obregón pursued him to the very end. Villa’s lands fell one by one into Obregón’s hands. Villa did take one of Obregón’s arms in battle on June 3, but he lost everything in return. Villa, the commander of the División del Norte, was on his way back to being a bandit.

“I want to return to Veracruz. I think it is time to eat Chinese food again,” Bak Jeonghun said as he tied a cloth from Obregón’s neck over the stump of his left arm, which was wrapped in a bandage. Obregón laughed heartily and nodded. Then he had an aide bring him a wooden box. It was filled with crude bills printed with President Carranza’s face. “Take this. Your wife will like it.” Bak Jeonghun declined, but Obregón was adamant. “If you ever come to Veracruz,” Bak said, “I will cut your hair for free.” Obregón smiled; his hair cascaded down over his ears and forehead. “If you ever want to be a soldier, come see me.” “But I couldn’t even protect your arm.” Obregón grabbed Bak Jeonghun’s arm with his right hand. “But we still won, didn’t we?”

Bak Jeonghun took the box with the bills inside and returned to Veracruz. José was comfortably cutting people’s hair, as always. He held his arms out wide and embraced Bak, who glanced toward the back of the barbershop. There was no sign of anyone. “Has my wife gone somewhere?” José shook his head with a grave expression on his face. “She’s not here.” Bak Jeonghun looked glum. “Did someone come for her?” The old barber smiled brightly. “I got you! She went to the market and will be back soon.” His mind now at ease, Bak went into his living quarters and unpacked his things. He could smell his wife’s scent. It was the scent that his fellow soldiers had long ago called the smell of roe deer blood. He dropped into bed and fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes Yeonsu was looking down at him. A few days later, they packed for a trip and left for Mérida. José prepared a lunch for them.

B
AK
J
EONGHUN
and Yi Yeonsu arrived at the arched entrance to Yazche hacienda. A guard whom they didn’t recognize stopped them. Yeonsu asked if there were any Koreans on the hacienda. The guard said that there were. When they said that they had come to see the Koreans, the guard asked them to follow him. They walked to the office next to the storehouse, where the paymasters worked. It was a familiar place. One of the paymasters vaguely remembered Yeonsu. He told her that only a few Koreans remained, that most of them had left. After a while, the paymaster also remembered her father, who had refused to work to the very end, and her lethargic mother.