Seoul Under the Hammer: Civilian Diaries and Letters from the North Korean Occupation, 1950

In the summer of 1950, the city of Seoul became a trap. On June 25, North Korean forces swept across the 38th parallel, and within three days the capital of the Republic of Korea was in their hands. The famous explosion of the Han River bridge on June 28 severed the city’s lifeline to the south, stranding hundreds of thousands of residents behind enemy lines. Among them was Kim Seong-chil, a Seoul National University historian who had moved to the quiet village of Jeongneung-ri in Seongbuk-gu in 1947. Over the following months, Kim kept a diary that would become one of the most intimate records of what it meant to be a civilian in an occupied city—a document of fear, hunger, rumor, and the grinding work of survival.

What Happened?

The Korean War began on June 25, 1950, with a full-scale invasion by North Korean forces. Seoul, located just forty kilometers from the 38th parallel, was the first major target. The North Korean army entered the city through multiple routes, including the Miari Pass and the foothills of Bukhansan mountain, which ran directly through the neighborhood of Jeongneung-ri. By June 28, the city had fallen.

The South Korean government’s decision to destroy the Han River bridges on July 28—three days after the invasion—left the majority of Seoul’s population trapped. According to later oral history research, only about one-third of Seoul’s residents managed to escape south before the city fell. Those who fled were disproportionately government bureaucrats, police officers, soldiers, and right-wing politicians. Ordinary Seoul residents, especially those who had no relatives in other provinces, had nowhere to go. They remained in the city under North Korean rule for roughly three months, until United Nations forces recaptured Seoul in September 1950.

Key events in the occupation period:

• June 25, 1950: North Korean forces cross the 38th parallel; the Korean War begins.
• June 27–28, 1950: North Korean troops enter Seoul through Miari Pass and Bukhansan; the Han River bridges are destroyed.
• June 28–September 28, 1950: Seoul is under North Korean occupation; the People’s Republic of Korea establishes control.
• September 28, 1950: United Nations forces retake Seoul after the Incheon landing.

How It Was Seen at the Time

For the civilians of Seoul, the occupation was not a distant political event but an immediate, personal catastrophe. Kim Seong-chil’s diary, later published as In Front of History (역사 앞에서), captures the mood of those days. He wrote not as a military strategist or a politician, but as a historian and father trying to make sense of a world collapsing around him. His entries are marked by a tone of quiet dread—the uncertainty of whether the occupation would last, whether food would run out, whether the neighbors who disappeared at night would ever return.

“The city is not the same. The streets are empty, the shops are closed, and the people who remain are silent. We wait, and we do not know for what.” — Kim Seong-chil, diary entry, summer 1950 (as cited in the Seoul History Research Institute study)

Oral histories collected later from Jeongneung-ri residents confirm this mood of pervasive anxiety. People spoke of the fear of being accused of collaboration, the terror of night raids, and the constant uncertainty about the future. The language of the time was full of euphemisms and silences—people did not speak openly of their fears, but the diary and oral testimonies reveal a community holding its breath.

Letters & Diaries

The most significant primary source for the occupation of Seoul is the diary of Kim Seong-chil. Kim was a historian and professor at Seoul National University who lived in the Songaja village of Jeongneung-ri from 1947 to 1950. His diary, written between the liberation of Korea and his death in 1952, is a rare and detailed account of civilian life under occupation. It is notable not only for its historical accuracy but for its literary quality—Kim wrote with the eye of a scholar and the heart of a resident of the city.

Kim’s diary is especially valuable because it was written in the moment, without the benefit of hindsight. It records the rumors that circulated, the shortages that worsened, and the small acts of kindness and cruelty that defined daily life. He fled to Busan in December 1950, after the city was recaptured, but his diary continued until his death in autumn 1952. The diary was later published under the title In Front of History, and it has become a key source for historians studying the Korean War’s impact on civilians.

Eyewitness Accounts

Oral history interviews conducted with Jeongneung-ri residents in the 2000s provide a complementary view to Kim’s written record. These interviews, collected by the Seoul History Research Institute, reveal the experiences of ordinary people—shopkeepers, farmers, and laborers—who did not leave written records of their own. One resident recalled the sight of North Korean soldiers marching through Miari Pass, their uniforms worn and their faces grim. Another described the long hours of waiting in line for food rations, and the fear of being accused of hoarding.

“We did not know what was happening. The soldiers came through the pass, and we were told to stay indoors. We stayed for days, listening to the sounds outside. When we finally went out, the streets were full of soldiers and the shops were empty.” — Resident of Jeongneung-ri, oral history interview, cited in The Experiences of the Korean War among Residents of Jeongneung-ri, Seoul

These oral accounts also reveal the complexity of the occupation. Some residents pretended to cooperate with the North Korean regime—attending rallies, joining the People’s Committees—in order to survive. Others actively resisted, hiding refugees or providing information to the resistance. The oral histories show that the occupation was not a single experience but a spectrum of strategies for survival.

Daily Life

Daily life under occupation was defined by scarcity and fear. The destruction of the Han River bridges cut off the city from the south, and the North Korean administration’s requisitioning of food and goods left little for ordinary civilians. The oral histories describe a city where the market stalls were empty, where people bartered for rice, and where the sound of gunfire was a constant background noise.

In Jeongneung-ri, the daily routine of the village—farming, marketing, visiting neighbors—was disrupted by the presence of soldiers. The village’s location near Bukhansan made it a strategic point, and the residents lived under the constant threat of being accused of spying or resistance. Kim Seong-chil’s diary records the small details of this life: the difficulty of finding firewood, the fear of night patrols, the tension of a meal shared with strangers who might be informers.

What People Feared

The fears of Seoul’s civilians were both rational and exaggerated. The most immediate fear was of violence—the threat of arrest, execution, or forced conscription by the North Korean authorities. The oral histories record that many residents feared being taken away by soldiers, and the diaries speak of the disappearance of neighbors who were never seen again. There was also the fear of the bombing and the shelling that accompanied the United Nations’ counteroffensive in September 1950.

But there was also a deeper, more psychological fear: the fear of being accused of collaboration. In a city where the occupation had lasted for three months, many residents had been forced to cooperate with the North Korean regime in some way—attending a meeting, paying a tax, or simply being present. After the UN forces returned, those same residents faced the accusation of having been collaborators. The fear of this accusation, and of the punishment that might follow, was a constant undercurrent in the diaries and oral histories.

How Historians See It Today

Modern historians have used the diaries and oral histories of the occupation to challenge the traditional narrative of the Korean War as a purely military conflict. The scholarship of the past decade has emphasized the civilian experience—the war as it was lived by ordinary people in the cities and villages. The work of Heonik Kwon, for example, has argued that the Korean War left deep social traumas that remain unresolved decades later, and that these traumas are best understood through the lens of local history and personal testimony.

The study of Kim Seong-chil’s diary, published in 2021 in the journal Seoul and History, is a leading example of this new approach. The researchers used Kim’s diary as a microhistorical source, examining the daily life of a single village under occupation. They concluded that the occupation was not a single, monolithic event but a series of local experiences, shaped by geography, class, and individual choice. This shift in focus—from the battlefield to the kitchen, from the general to the personal—has transformed our understanding of the Korean War.

Aftermath

When the United Nations forces recaptured Seoul in September 1950, the city was in ruins. The Han River bridges were destroyed, the streets were empty, and the population had been drastically reduced. The residents who had survived the occupation faced a new set of challenges: the reconstruction of their homes, the return of refugees, and the long process of healing the wounds of the war. Kim Seong-chil, who had fled to Busan in December 1950, did not live to see the full recovery of his city. He died in 1952, at the age of 48, leaving behind a diary that would become a testament to the endurance of the human spirit in the face of war.

The diaries and letters of Seoul’s civilians during the Korean War are more than historical documents—they are a reminder that war is not only a matter of battles and generals, but of ordinary people trying to live their lives. Kim Seong-chil’s In Front of History and the oral histories of the residents of Jeongneung-ri show us that even in the darkest days, people found ways to survive, to hope, and to record their experiences for future generations. Their words remain a powerful testament to the resilience of the human spirit.