SEPTEMBER 2, 1870. The battlefield barely seen between the smoke of gunfire and the dim light of a cloudy and rainy day. The french soldiers, bathed in blood, own and from others, were yelling excited because of the fear and fury. There were brand-new rifles warming hands and nervous horses prancing between the edge of swords.
In the midle of that death triangle, Louis Napoleon III appeared, mounted on a superb chestnut horse, almost black, with foamy flews that were champing impatiently the breaks. Everyone looked at him amazed and proud. One of the soldiers, drew furrows with tears on his face blackened by gunpowder, start singing Partant pour la Syrie,  the hymn composed by Hortense de Beauharnais, the mother of the Emperor, in times of splendor, when Napoleon Bonaparte exercised his dominion over so many and so distant lands. That song shook the French spirit of those weary men, and their voices were joining the heat of the battle.
It was common among the French that children, from a very young age, follow their parents to war. Everyone knew that Napoleon had done the same with Loulou, his fourteen years old son, and they thought that, in their zeal to protect him, seeing that the struggle was becoming more cruel, he had fled with him to Belgium. But the Emperor was there, defying the guns and the fearsome Prussian needle guns. His appearance, with ed overcoat, standing on the chair and firmly wielding the sword, it was worthy of a painting. Fallen his companions, the Emperor remained among his soldiers who were watching him with veneration, almost as a living icon.
So many heroic deeds did not make counterweight to the inefficiency of French strategists and, finally, the prussians won. Louis Napoleon was brought before Otto von Bismarck, the proud boss of North German Confederation, who received from his hands the sword of surrender.
The franco-pussian war marked the culmination between the two powers that sought the domination of Germany. The overcomers decided that the most outstanding officers would be taken with the Emperor to the Wilhelmshöhe castle, but the other prisoners would be conducted under the mist and rain, to le Camp de la Misère, at a bend in the Moselle River.
 

On September 3, before departing for the frontier escorting the defeated Emperor, Seunghyun Blachat, General of the Fourth Regiment of Cuirassiers, asked permission to say goodbye to his son who was part of the exhausted soldiers, watched over by the vistory-drunken prussians, which was gathered in long columns in the densely wooded hills of the Ardennes.
Yongguk saw his father dismount and ran to meet him. The boy's state was miserable. Wounded, with a torn and dirty jacket, threw himself into the arms of his progenitor and both wept convulsively. The other soldiers, who initially thought of insulting the officer, were silent and touched by the scene.
-Son, I must remain with the Emperor. Look at those woods, you can be free, go find your mother, tell her trip to Belgium and stay there with our friends, the Pennaertz. Soon as I can, I will go to meet her. Introduce yourself in Metz, there are still many of our soldiers. I could not bear you to stay as a deserter. Live with honor, looking to be happy, because we suffer for France more than we can endure. As you possibly can go to the homeland of General San Martin. Goodbye, dear son.
The brave general, who had fought in other wars, dried his tears with a slap, mount his horse and galloped away to the imperial carriages, ready to go.
 

At nearly midnight, Yongguk decided to carry out the suggestion of his father. He pretended to collect branches to stoke the fire and little by little was approaching the forest. Once there, he ran all that his tired legs could. At dawn, he found a farmer who gathered firewood. The poor man had a shock to see emerge from the trees that young soldier covered with blood and mud, but suddenly realized what was his situation and handed him up into carriage. Reaching Sedan, gave him dry clothes, a glass of mulled wine, and brought him to the outskirts of town indicating the direction of Metz.
Yongguk walked several miles to the southeast with a hoe on his shoulder pretending to be a peasant. Almost halfway there, a villager invited him up to his wagon, carrying stacks of fennel to feed the rabbits. The sweet aroma and fatigue made him fell asleep. When they arrived, Yongguk awoke with a start. The streets were semi-deserted. He greeted the farmer and continued to walk home.
Catherine Parmentier, sensitive to the cold, wrapped her body with a shawl and hurriedly crossed the wide lobby with marble floor and furnished with large carved pearwood chests. She opened the gates of the garden and confirmed that his mother instinct had not deceived her. There was her son.
On October 27,  the Parmentier crossed the frontierand continued until Leja where the General Blachat good friends were waiting for them. They had difficulties on the road because Catherine had insisted on carry a imperial style armchair that had belonged to her father.
The Blachat armchair was designed with an eagle with outspread wings on his back and the seat was soft suede leather, fastened with gold studs. The armchair was the most prized possession that the Blachat had.
 

Three days earlier, Yongguk was transferred to Marseille with other soldiers from the Metz barracks and had not heard about his parents until several weeks later.