Honoring a Promise : Cut Off From Family by Korean War, Doctor Takes Role in Memorial

When Dr. Donald K. Chung of Long Beach stands among dignitaries at the Korean War Veterans Memorial dedication in Washington today, he will be crying for a promise he couldn’t keep to his mother and for the fate of his still-divided homeland.

And when the Korean American cardiologist attends tonight’s state dinner, hosted by President Clinton for South Korean President Kim Young Sam, he will urge Clinton to make the reunification of the Korean peninsula his top foreign policy priority.

The Korean War cost more American lives than Vietnam, but it has taken four decades to honor the 1.7 million veterans of the conflict with a monument.

Chung’s $438,000 donation was the largest gift to the $18-million project to memorialize Korean War veterans, including more than 54,000 Americans who lost their lives in the conflict.

“He has made a great contribution to an important cause,” said Dr. Bong Hak Hyun, past president of the Korean American Medical Assn. and pathology professor at Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia.

Hyun, who was an adviser to the commander of the Army’s 10th Corps during the war, has been one of the Korean Americans most actively involved in the memorial project.

As for Chung, 63, he is proud to have had a part in honoring the men and women who saved the lives of hundreds of thousands of refugees like him, he said.

“But most of all, I want to honor my mother--to let her know that in my own way I have kept my promise.” Mothers are accorded special loyalty and affection in Korean culture.

In December, 1950, Chung, then 18, left his weeping mother and three sisters in North Korea and fled to freedom with South Korean soldiers.

“I will be back in three days,” he told her. But three days became 33 years. By the time he made it back to North Korea in 1983, his mother had been dead for four years.

Brokenhearted, he returned to Long Beach and vowed to write a book and dedicate it to his mother. Chung gave all proceeds from the book to the veterans monument.

Chung’s journey from North Korea to America is a tale shared by 11 million Koreans whose families remain separated. Half of the 500,000 Koreans in Southern California--the biggest Korean settlement outside Asia--have relatives in North Korea.

Using every spare minute he had, Chung wrote “The Three-Day Promise” in one year while maintaining his busy medical practice, but he could not get anyone to publish it.

So he plunked down $12,000 and published it himself. But only his patients were buying the book.

Then, Abigail Van Buren came to his aid by running his letter in her syndicated Dear Abby column. That made him an overnight celebrity.

Contacting Dear Abby was his wife’s idea.

At the breakfast table one morning, Young-ja Chung told him that she had read that the columnist supported the veterans project and had solicited contributions.

Chung had never heard of Dear Abby, but his ears perked up.

He promptly wrote Abby and sent her his book. When he didn’t hear from her, he sent her a second letter and another book.

Six weeks later, Van Buren was on the phone. Soon thereafter, Van Buren, Chung and Gen. Richard Stilwell, a key fund-raiser for the memorial until his death in 1992, met in Beverly Hills. And in December, 1989, Chung’s letter about his broken promise, his struggles in South Korea as a refugee and his new life in America, and an offer to donate all proceeds from the book, appeared in 1,200 newspapers.

“Yours is one of the most fascinating, educational and inspirational books I have ever read,” Abby wrote. “What a wonderful Christmas gift it would make for teen-agers, and also for adults who enjoy reading for pleasure as well as expanding their knowledge.”

Chung was overwhelmed when thousands of letters began arriving. When he told Abby he could not open all of them, she suggested that he buy an automatic letter opener. “I had never heard of an automatic letter opener before. I am a heart surgeon,” he said.

Day and night, Chung read the letters--many of them from former Korean War veterans and their families. He often wept as he read the letters because they made him think of the war and his mother.

With the help of volunteers from his church and hospital, Chung answered letters and sold books.

Gregarious and resourceful, he also peddled the books himself. On Wednesdays when he played golf, he took books with him and sold them to his golf partners.

He tried to play with different people every week.

“I didn’t feel uncomfortable promoting the book because I was giving all the proceeds to an important cause,” he said.

That’s how he raised $438,000.

Chung has just published a sequel, “Remembrances of the Forgotten War.” All the profits from his second book will go to the Korea/Vietnam Memorial National Education Center in Lehigh Valley, Pa., he said.

He turns misty-eyed when he recalls the graveside visit he made in 1983 after learning from his sisters that his mother had died of cancer in 1979.

“I wept and told her, ‘Mother, I am back. Back beside you. There has not been a moment in all these 33 years when you were not with me. . . . I so wanted to show you proof of my achievements, Mother. I am so sorry I could not have come sooner.’ ”

Chung, who came to the United States in 1962 to train at Washington University in St. Louis, became a doctor with the help of a former teacher from North Korea.

“I was a 29-year-old bachelor with one small suitcase, containing all I owned,” Chung said. “ I had $50 in my pocket. But thanks to God and the generosity of America, I received the best medical training in the world.”

He came to California in 1972 to work at Long Beach Memorial Medical Center.

“I had a splendid life in America with two made-in-U.S.A. sons and wife,” he said, but he felt emptiness. This feeling gripped him on his 50th birthday in 1982.

Retreating to his study after the cake and tea, he played old Korean songs on the stereo.

The half-century of his life flashed before him. “I cried until 4 a.m. I resolved that I would find a way to get to North Korea.”

A year later, with the help of a contact in Canada, he did.

When Chung saw his sisters, “looking so old, malnourished and dark from working in the sun,” he held their hands and cried for half an hour, he said.

He has heard indirectly that his role in the memorial is not sitting well with North Korean officials.

But Chung does not believe his action will adversely affect his sisters. “I leave that in God’s hands,” he said.

His prayer is to see the two Korea reunite so that all Koreans, including his three sisters, can enjoy the freedom he has.