Why does he bother, then? He believes it's his Christian duty.
"If you look at their character, there's no reason to bring any of them in," he says. "Some people say, 'Why don't you just bring in the good ones?' But I think that's wrong. They're all God's people, and we have to save them because otherwise they'll die.... It's my mission."
In Hohhot, Chun hires a taxi for the five-hour drive to the border. On the way, a camel occasionally comes into view in the brown fields. Sheep and goats outnumber people. Huge trucks heaped with sacks of potatoes rumble by. He uses the daylight to videotape the fence where the refugees will make their crossing. But the taxi gets stuck in the sand. After several attempts to push it out, the driver flags down one of several trucks working on what appears to be a road-building operation.
He makes a deal with the truck driver to carry a group of "researchers" back to the fence that night on his flatbed. The truck seems like a Godsend. It will take them directly to the crossing point. A previous group had to start farther back and wandered for two days. A 10-year-old boy died of dehydration.
Arrival by Train
Now in a private room of a restaurant in Erenhot, the last town before the Mongolian border, Chun greets the refugees who have arrived by train. He gently teases them.
Relationships among them have clearly changed. The missile worker has become close to -- perhaps even romantically involved with -- the special forces man, according to the Chinese guide who accompanied them. The former soldier was nearly arrested by police for smoking on a railroad platform, putting himself and possibly the entire group at risk.
It is also clear that the group has a new de facto leader: the young man Chun added with his girlfriend at the last minute. He seems the most calm and confident.
Seated at a big round table, Chun tells the group that the Mongolians will confiscate any money and valuables they have, and suggests that they give it all to him for safekeeping. He assures them that he'd give it back when they get to Seoul. But no one gives him a thing.
"Whatever they have is such a small amount. They can't even get a meal in South Korea with it," he explains later. "They don't even trust me -- they think I'm somehow doing this for my own purposes."
Chun urges them to "eat tonight, even if you're not hungry," but the heaping plates of food go largely untouched. They are too nervous.
