<Anchor>

In May 1980, all the citizens of Gwangju left unforgettable pain and great wounds. I don't know the grand word for democracy, but as an ordinary housewife at the time, I shared my pain with my neighbors, and there were some people who left my work as a diary.

Reporter of KBC Gouri met.

<Reporter>

Heo Kyung-deok reached 5 · 18 in a month after moving to Gwangju in 1980.

Even while taking care of eight families alone, including my husband who had been lying down, I took care of the citizens.

[Huh Kyung-deok (age 80) / 5/18, living in Gwangju: Sorry, only a few people came home and cooked. But my body has a fierce smell. I sweat and don't change. So give me some towels… ] The

ordinary housewife, who had no way of knowing why the world was noisy, wrote a stuffy heart.
[Huh Kyung-deok (80 years old) / 5/18, living in Gwangju: 'Why are soldiers and civilians fighting and doing this? Where are these people from? Who ordered it? What was the order? ' I thought so alone.]

Everywhere in the diary, the sons and daughters of someone injured wants to get better and the fear I felt for the first time in my life is detailed.

[Suddenly two soldiers fired a gun. We were surprised and almost fell behind. Ask who is going and where. It was so scary. He suffered 6.25 when he was in elementary school, but he hadn't seen the soldiers in his own hands.] In the

hope that those who passed out for today should not be forgotten, He donated a diary kept for 40 years to the May 18 Archives.

[Huh Kyung-deok (80 years old) / 5/18, living in Gwangju: Oh, I would run to that scene if I were a man. There are no children. I thought so. We shouldn't have eaten rice before. That's why it was a hammock.]

(Video coverage: Yeom Pil-ho KBC, Jang Chang-geon KBC)