It was a bright Saturday morning in early spring. The whole woods was a vibrant green with a thin sheet of dew on the ground. The sun was just coming over the hill. The turkeys flew down from their roost. Flying and chirping, the birds were moving branch to branch with their early morning breakfast. The squirrels began their chatter, running up and down trees. Up and down trees, over and over.
Dad and I walked in as quiet as a mouse, leaving the woods undisturbed. We woke up at three that morning to begin our hunt for my first turkey. We knew that sunrise was at six thirty a.m, and we wanted to wait for the turkey to come to us early in the morning. If they didn’t come by eleven a.m we were going to start doing the run and gun technique. We were on public land, and we were expecting to see other hunters. The most memorable part of our plan was we were going to look for morels after we began to run and gun.
I remember arriving a little bit too early, so we sat down and ate part of our lunch. We set up our spot just at the edge of some pine trees so we could see the cut corn field to our left. To the right, there was brush, and we could hear the river roaring in the ravine. Just as the sun was starting to peek through the trees dad started calling for the turkeys. The first thirty minutes were unsuccessful. I began getting frustrated and bored, but then we heard one gobble.
My heart skipped a beat and began racing. It sounded so close, but dad told me that is was further than it seemed. Dad kept calling, and the turkey kept responding. The noise was like music to my ears. It was getting closer, and I was getting more excited. I began to hear the forest floor crunch. At first I thought it was a squirrel, but it was too constant to be a squirrel.
I turned toward the noise that was coming from the woods, and I saw a human walking. I pointed and whispered, “Dad look. There’s another hunter.”
Dad looked in the woods long and hard until he found the movement. He quickly put his finger to his lips signaling for me to be as quiet as possible. I was really confused why he did that because as I already said, we were expecting to see other hunters. I looked at dad, and he just signaled for me to lay down and be as quiet as a mouse. I did as he said. Shortly after I layed down I heard louder crunching in the woods. It sounded like there were fifteen people running through the woods.
Dad very quietly whispered, “Soldiers.”
I stared dad in the eyes worried and mouthed, “What do you mean?”
He pressed his index finger to his lips and said very quietly, “Those are enemy soldiers. We need to get out of here.”
That was the very moment that I realized that dad and I were not hunting anymore. We were escaping.
Dad and I just layed in the tall grass at the edge of the wood for roughly five minutes, but it seemed like a century. Finally, dad lifted his eyes just above the top of the grass and whispered, “Follow me.”
Dad, serious and dexterous, began crawling on his belly, so I followed him on my belly dragging my compound bow beside me. We crawled through the grass, over some logs, and through some raspberries. The raspberries put cuts all over my face and my hands. Finally, once we got through the raspberries we stopped crawling.
Dad looked at me with his face all bloody and he said, “Elise, those were soldiers. Not American soldiers.”
I was so worried and confused I didn’t know what to say so I uttered, “What- what do you mean?”
Dad responded, “It looked like they were Korean. Probably from North Korea. On the news they were talking about how North Korea was threatening to come to the U.S.”
My heart sank when I heard his theory and I asked, “Why would they be up here?”
Dad got a puzzled look on his face. I remember him tilting his head then he said, “They must be hunting for food right now. They probably heard my turkey call and went toward it thinking it was a turkey. I know that we don’t want to get tangled up in their business, so I think we should make a plan to get out of here unnoticed.”
I looked at dad puzzled and almost as if he read my mind he said, “Here’s the plan; we are going to follow the ravine down the hill because if we walk into the field we will surely be seen. Then once we get down to the bottom of the hill we follow the road toward home. If we run into anyone, we either have to fight, or we have to run.”
I finally understood that we had to get out of the woods because our lives were on the line. We were no longer the hunters. If we were seen by the enemy soldiers we would either be shot or taken prisoner. If I didn’t make it out of the woods, I might not have ever seen my family again.
We sat in the brush behind the raspberries for around thirty minutes to gather our wits and calm down. Then as if a timer went off dad began talking. He said, “You had better eat your lunch, it is twelve forty-five now and we might be moving for a while. Plus, you will want your bag a little bit lighter.
I looked at dad and did exactly as he said; I ate the rest of my lunch, and I drank one of my bottles of water. I put my trash back in my bag and zipped it up. Dad stared at me with glossy eyes and said, “I love you, Elise.”
I almost broke down when he said that. My dad had never said that to me. My parents were always strict and tough on my little brother and me; it just never occurred to me that they did that because they cared. With a tear rolling down my cheek messing up my face paint I said, “I love you too, daddy.” Then we both burst out into tears. Dad pulled me into his arms, and we buried our faces in each other’s shoulders to muffle our crying.
Then, it was time for business. We needed to escape, and let me tell you, that’s easier than it sounds. We began making our way down into the ravine toward the road. It all went great until dad slipped off the side and started screaming in pain. I was at the top of the ravine, trying to think of a way to rescue my dad. Then out of nowhere, I heard a gunshot. Then another, and another, and another. A fully automatic gun was shooting and, I could see the dirt around my dad flying up. Dad yelled and told me, “Go! Get out of here!” So I did.
I turned and ran back the way we came from, ran across the field, and ran for hours. Then when I couldn’t run anymore I fell to my knees and broke down. I began screaming and yelling bloody murder. My father had just been killed, and I ran away from him.
A man in all camo and face paint tapped me on the shoulder, scaring the s*** out of me and said, “Can I help you?”
I said, “Please help me,” and I told him the story that I just told you. The young man helped me out of the woods and brought me to my grandmother’s house. With a lot of talking to people including the government and wondering if my dad was still alive, I made it out alive, and here I am today.