A sweeping novel about a correspondent trapped behind enemy lines during the Korean War, and the women who help her find her way home, from the national bestselling author of Daughters of Shandong.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from The Young Will Remember by Eve J. Chung, which releases on May 5th 2026.
When I found the courage to lift my head, I expected to stare down the barrel of a gun, but instead there was a woman in front of me, the back of her white skirt embroidered with columns of yellow chrysanthemums.
1950. It’s the coldest winter in decades, and twenty-eight-year-old Chinese American journalist Ellie Chang is on a military flight to cover a battle in the mountains of North Korea when her plane is shot down.
As she emerges from the fallen aircraft onto an icy field surrounded by the enemy, Ellie is sure it’s the end, certain she’ll never make it home to her parents…until a woman pushes her way through the crowd and claims Ellie as the lost daughter that she’s been searching for since the last war ended. Never mind that Ellie doesn’t speak a word of Korean.
Ellie is taken in by her rescuer—a woman who calls herself “Emma”—and the Paks, a pastor’s family. She knows she can’t stay and yet there’s no way she’ll survive on her own.
As the war intensifies, the sky alighting with bombs overhead, Ellie convinces Emma and the Paks to travel south towards an elusive promise of safety, and where Ellie insists they are more likely to find Emma’s real daughter, stuck on the other side of the frontlines.
Emma’s decision to claim Ellie, and Ellie’s choice to take her hand will connect their lives forever.
Moving and triumphant, The Young Will Remember sheds light on a “Forgotten War,” the resilience of love within our darkest histories, and the indefatigable determination of mothers to protect their children.
EXCERPT
“The orders were ‘no flight nurses,’ right?” I said, flashing my most persuasive grin. If I strained, I could get a dimple to dot my left cheek. “Not ‘no women,’ or ‘no correspondents,’ right, George? In any case, I’m a civilian, so military orders don’t apply to me. Right?”
His stride was longer than mine, and I had to pump my arms to keep up with him. “No, Ellie, you can’t come either,” he said. “And I’m not a dog. You can’t bribe me with food.”
“But I waited in line for these all morning!” I had been betting that George would succumb to these snacks. Like me, he was from the Bay Area and loved the chewy combination of red bean and sticky rice flour. “They’re fresh, from our favorite stand—the one by the bathhouse. Come on, George. California solidarity. No one else from the Global Tribune made it to the Chosin. If I can get there, my boss will go wild. The entire team back home will. Please, George. I need this!”
“Go away, Ellie!” George snapped, swatting at the mochi that I dangled by his nose. “I know you think you have to prove your-self, but this is ridiculous, even for you.”
Barbara had caught up to us, her boots thudding as the plane’s cargo door clanged shut. The other nurses pattered angrily behind her.
“Oh, good Lord,” said Barbara. “If you won’t take us, at least take Ellie. Let her get her story!”
George whirled around to face us, the bags beneath his blood-shot eyes pronounced. “What is wrong with you all?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea what’s happening at Hagaru-ri? The Chinese have the airstrip surrounded. When I fly in, it’s going to be with an escort of fighter jets. When I fly out, it’s going to be through fire. You should just be grateful that you have the day off. Get some rest. Curl your hair and take a bath.”
Barbara flushed so deeply that her freckles faded into her ruddy skin. “Damn you, George. We can help. We want to help!”
I leaped between George and the ladder and stretched my arms out. At five feet two, I barely reached his chin, but I clenched the mochi in my fist and let my typewriter dangle from its shoulder strap. “I thought we were friends, George. I always tell you when there’s beef jerky at the commissary. I always get you extra mochi at the market, because I know you’re too scared of the mochi obasan to buy them yourself.”
George snatched the mochi bag from me, ripping the top. “I’m not scared of the mochi granny,” he said. “And we are friends—good friends. That’s why I want you to stay here. You, of all people, should not be at the Chosin right now. You know what I mean, don’t you?”
The nurses’ outrage dwindled to a hush, and Barbara cocked her head, uncertain. They might have been confused, but I knew exactly what he meant. Of course I did.
If anyone else had referenced my ethnicity, I might have gone ballistic, but George was Japanese American. During World War II, our government had sent his family to an internment camp even though George’s father was fighting for us in France. The Miyashitas didn’t get released until the last camps closed—just four years ago.
“They’re really bloody mad at China over there,” George continued. “If I were you, I’d lie low for now. MacArthur’s foaming at the mouth. Rumor has it, he’s pushing to bomb Manchuria. If it were up to him, we’d go nuclear.”
A chill shivered down my spine.
As a woman in this field, I always had to be brave, to work harder and smarter for every scrap and bone—never complain, and above all, never cry. I kept my fear in a box and labeled it opportunity, but it was still a slippery beast. Courage and madness were different shades of the same color, and I couldn’t tell which I had painted myself with when I said, “I’m willing to take the risk, George. I won’t put my life on hold because some jerks can’t tell the difference between me and a Red.”
I stood my ground, holding my head so high that I had to tilt it back. That was the only way I could look down at someone taller than me.
George rolled his eyes and threw his hand up. “Fine, Ellie. But only because I’m starving, and I need you to feed these to me while I keep my hands on the controls. I swear to God, if you cause any trouble—”
“I won’t cause trouble,” I cried, bouncing with adrenaline while Barbara and the other nurses cheered. “I’ll feed you like you’re my firstborn child. Let’s go!”
Though I wasn’t a flight nurse, when the next pilot came around Barbara was going to argue that George had taken a woman on his plane, so why shouldn’t the others too? I couldn’t help feeling sorry for George, who was probably going to get an earful upon his return, but I grabbed the rungs of the ladder like it was a lifeline for my career.
George pulled my arm. “Get yourself a thicker jacket. It’s cold enough over there to freeze hell over.”
