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monk as a boy or young man, relics clutched under his robes, fleeing into the mountains. How much of this had he seen? How much history was in this man? And why tell it to me, a foreigner?
As if in answer, the monk looked up and fixed his eyes on me. There were tears in them but his voice was strong: “Then the Americans came! The Americans threw out the Japanese. The Americans sent allthe Japanese away and allowed tie to rebuild our fe temple and our stupas. We p retrieved them scrolls from their hiding places. New monks came and joined us. Thanks to the Americans, our temple was reborn and thrived.
“Then the communists came and we again feared for our lives. But the Americans came again and threw out the Communists just as they had done the Japanese. The Americans fought with Korean soldiers and cast off the invaders. The Americans have helped protect us. The Americans have brought our country freedom and allowed us to prosper.”
The old man rose, tears now Streaming from his face. As I stood up, he stepped towards men with outstretched arms and for a moment held me with a strength 1 scarce thought possible. He looked at me again. His words sounded choked, as did the voice of the interpreter: “I want to thank you. I want to thank all Americans for what they have done for Korea. America is a beautiful country.”
There were now tears in my eyes, too. Now I understood why I had been invited into this temple, why I had been shown these relics. This man wanted to thank some
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