Mr. Ahn

My father, George Frost, Sr. was sent to Pusan, Korea by the army in 1951 during the war.  Twenty four years later, the United States Air Force sent me to Kunsan, Korea, but there was no war when I got there or at least what they told me.  In my time there, I wondered if there was a war being waged, but no one bothered to tell me about it.  Whatever the case may be, I was sent there in February, 1984 on a remote tour which lasted twelve months.  

Thinking back, I am fairly certain there was a war being fought, because sometimes a war can be waged without firing a single shot.  Sometimes alliances are made that aren’t expected.  Sometimes there are no victors or vanquished, but memories are the ghosts we leave behind once the smoke clears.  

It was December 31, 1984.  I was only way to Mr. Ahn's house in Kunsan, Korea. For nearly a year, Mr. Ahn was a Korean civilian who worked for me in the 7 th Supply Squadron.  During our time working together, I found him to be a mild mannered gentleman who understood the values of honor and integrity.  

When I got to the door of the barracks, the taxi was waiting out in front.  I had been through quite a lot during the year.  I was going to end it with a New Year's celebration with Mr. Ahn's family.  I was honored for three reasons, first most Korean civilian employees did not have high regard for the American servicemen and women, second most American servicemen and women did not trust the Korean civilians, and third the brass did not want their personnel to go off base when the local roads were dark and narrow.  The local buses stopped running around six in the evening and the cabs quit an hour later, so you were either stranded in Kunsan which was twenty miles from the front gate of the base or you would drive back on your own, which was dangerous.  Mr. Ahn told me that he would drive me home.

Mr. Ahn was in his late forties and had five years of military experience to go with nearly twenty years of employment at the base.  He was an unassuming man who had come to terms with the ways of the world.  As I took my seat at the empty desk, he looked directly at me and said, "We work stock levels.  You sit there."

"And do what?" I asked

"Supervise." He nodded with a smile.  I had been there about an hour when Master Sergeant Miller called me into her office. 

She was my section boss and she ordered, "Shut the door."

With nearly twenty years of military service, Master Sergeant Miller made it quite clear that she did not trust either of the Korean civilians in my section, Mr. Ahn or Mr. Kim.  Mr. Kim was a younger man who had also served in the Republic of Korea (ROK) army and only had four years experience in the Korean civilian service.  

"I expect you to keep an eye on those two." She shook a finger at me, "I know there is something up with those two.  Just look at them." She pulled back the curtain over the window giving her a clear view of the office. Both were reviewing the stock level report, just like they were supposed to be doing.  She shook her head, "Look at those two. Mmm, mmm, they got that look about them.  I am depending on you to catch them doing something, do you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am." I answered, rolling my eyes as I turned leaving her office.

For the rest of the afternoon I sat idly at my desk reading the supply regulations on stock leveling.  It is as exciting as it sounds, but from what I was reading, both men were doing exactly what they were supposed to.  

"We do what we are supposed to." Mr. Ahn said.

"Yes, she black GI and they don't like Korean." Mr. Kim whispered to me in confidence that was sealed with a quick wink.  

"No say that." Mr. Ahn Shook his head. “Don’t give her a reason to not like us.” 

"She not like us now.  Is true." Mr. Kim said defensively.

"Yes, but not nice to say." Mr. Ahn Held his head up as he spoke. "We not want to offend GIs. If we do that, we will prove them right." 

Mr. Kim frowned, because he knew his senior spoke the truth.  

And so the lines had been drawn leaving me feeling as if I was left to wander in No Man's Land. Msgt. Miller was peeking out of her window through her curtains.

I got into the cab.  I gave the driver the address Mr. Ahn had written in Korean and the driver nodded and pulled away from the curb.  Five minutes later, We passed through the front gate.  Once off base, the countryside opened up and all the light disappeared as total darkness absorbed us into the landscape.  Without the headlights shining on the road ahead, it was as dark as if I had closed my eyes tight.  It would stay that way until we got to Kunsan.

Both Mr. Ahn and Mr. Kim was married and each of them had a framed picture of their family on their desk.  

"You married?" Mr. Ahn asked me during my first week there.

"No, but I have a girlfriend." I shook my head.

"Korean?" Mr. Kim asked.

"No, no, back home." I chuckled.  A lot of guys found Korean girlfriends who were known as Yobos.  These were young women who were trained in housekeeping and other domestic skills that kept their employers satisfied. 

"My wife and I been married for twenty five years." Mr. Ahn said proudly.

"So, What are they up to?" Msgt. Miller asked after calling me into her office at the end of the week.

"Nothing." I reported.

"I find that hard to believe." She peered through the curtains. "They look awfully suspicious to me." 

"I've watched them closely, but they are doing their job." I shrugged.

"I'm not buying it.  You write them up if they do one thing wrong." She waved her finger in front of face.

I could see the glow of streetlights as we passed Silvertown which was closed for New Years, but was a replica Las Vegas and a popular playground for the guys stationed at the base.  Ten miles from the gate, the clubs were lit up with neon and fluorescent lighting just like the Vegas Strip, but the base commander decided to close it to prevent any potential trouble.  I didn't mind since I had only been there twice and found the music much too loud and the swarm of girls working the bar always asking you to buy them a drink.  It was also the halfway point between Kunsan and the base.  checking my watch, I knew I'd get there right on time.  

Msgt. Miller kept the pressure on, but I saw nothing out of order.  I had never worked in stock leveling before.  It was an important part of the supply operation, because it recorded part usage and made sure to keep the shelves in the warehouse stocked at usage level.  We were on the other side of the world, so it was important to keep the shelves filled as much as possible. These levels needed to be monitored and Mr. Ahn and Mr. Kim did just that. Plain and simple.

She was becoming discouraged in my efforts to spy on them.  There were other Korean civilians who worked in Base Supply and each of them bothered her as well, but she had no control over them.  She had to put up with them and you could see she did not like it one bit. 

"When I ask them, they speak their gobbledy-gook." She complained during one of our Friday afternoon briefings.

"Mr. Ahn requested a report." I explained.

"What for?  Just trying to waste paper?" She snapped.

"I believe they were trying to save money on our inventory." I shrugged.  Captain Moore was present upon her request.  He was the commanding officer of our section.

"Seems to me, Sergeant Miller, Mr. Ahn is doing his job." He brought his hands together.  "We need more employees like him." 

When he left, I could feel her stare burn into the back of my skull.  She clicked her tongue, "I'd like to know whose side you're on."

When I got my orders back to the states, she called me into her office, "I see you are leaving in the first week of February."  

"Yes, I am." I sighed.

"If it were in my power, I'd cancel them." She glared at me.

"Why?"

"Because you failed to do your job!" She slammed her open hand on her desk.

She was wrong.  I knew this as the taxi pulled up to a small house on a darkened street and saw Mr. Ahn standing by the gate of the fence that surrounded the front yard.

"You come." He shook my hand as his teenage son opened the gate.  Though small, his house was warm and cozy.  His family sat in descending order on a couch with the television turned on.  

"My wife Mi Sing. " I shook hands with the somber looking woman sitting at the end of the couch in what I assumed was her place of honor as the family matriarch.

"My son, Yi Mon." The boy who had opened the gate bowed his head.  Mr. Ahn touched his younger daughter's head, "And this is Lau Te." 

He touched a boy who looked about five years old, "My youngest son Agi Ma." 

"Good to meet all of you." I acknowledged, smiling as I nodded my head.

"You sit here. " Mr. Ahn Placed a kitchen chair next to the couch so I could have a view of the television even though the program was in Korean. 

"I have sake.  I made it myself." Mr. Ahn declared as he removed a bottle from a wet bar.  He poured a tumbler and handed it to me.  The liquid was dark and the truth was I had never tried sake before.  I took a mouthful.  It tasted like dirt.  No matter how hard I tried I could not seem to swallow what I had in my mouth without gagging.  There was a fake potted fern near my chair and with the rest of them engrossed in the television program, I was able to spit out what was in my mouth without anyone seeing me.

"Good, eh?" Mr. Ahn smiled without noticing what I had done.

"Very tasty." I held up the glass and nodded.

He was pleased.  Holding up the bottle, he asked, "More?"

"No thank you." I shook my head.

In order to show my appreciation and gratitude, I pretended to watch the program they were watching on the television. Though it was a small Samsung Set, it was in color.  It turned out the program was a comedy and so when they laughed, I joined in as if I understood what was going on.  Agi Ma looked at me with suspicion since he already was aware I was faking. A couple of times Yi placed over at me with a sly smile on his face.

After an hour the doorbell rang and Mr. Ahn answered it.  He came back inside with two heavy plastic bags proclaiming, "Dinner has arrived." 

There were several Styrofoam containers of strangely colored food.  Saying what each container had inside in Korean was not helpful, but I decided to try a little bit of everything.  The black bean noodles like the sake was difficult to swallow due to the odd texture, but the sugary Coke tasted good to me and help me was down the unfamiliar cuisine.  Later Mr. Ahn told me the food was ordered from a fancy hotel which explained why all the containers were empty by the time everyone had eaten.

As the final hour of 1984 arrived, so did Mr. Kim and his wife Sun Li.  In the small room, adding two more adults made the room even more cozy. I could smell the soju on Mr. Kim's breath, but he laughed a great deal and spoke in a very loud voice.  

"So what do you think of Korea?" His voice carried as he tried to keep his balance.

I had to think it over for a moment as I had some good memories and I had some bad experiences.  I found it strange that both Mr. Ahn and Mr. Kim had made me feel welcome in their country while my own compatriots had given me some baggage I'd just as soon leave behind.   My orders had been cut for Beale Air Force Base in California and I was due on station on Valentine's Day.  I missed being in the United States since it was still yesterday and New Year's was still a day away.  

Since the runway on base faced the North China Sea where the cold ocean wind never stopped blowing in, my Korean experience would be a memory of being continually cold.   But these would not be things I would tell Mr. Kim.

"I really liked my time here." My answer made him happy as he slapped me in the back.

Mr. Ahn took me into the kitchen for a private conversation.  He put his hand on my shoulder and looked at me as tears filled his eyes, "You are a good man.  I like.  You not like the other GIs who think we are just here to serve them.  You tell that woman we are good workers even when she asked.  Be easy to say what she wanted you to say, but you tell her the truth.  We value honesty in Korea.  Many lies have been told to us, but you not lie.  Thank you."

I heard a commotion in the other room as we walked in together. 

"Five, Four, Three, Two, One!  Happy New Year!"  Everyone yelled in unison. It surprised me that they said this in English.  I could tell Mr. Ahn had them all practice.  I felt a bit awkward hugging everybody, but I am glad I did.  This is what I heard New year's was supposed to be like.

After a few minutes, Mr. Ahn said, "We must go."

Squeezing myself into his compact car, he drove me back to the front gate.  I could hear fireworks as I went to get out of the car.

"Wait a minute." He called me.  Without warning, he handed me a wrapped package. "Open it."

I did as he instructed and held a small plate with the calendar of 1985 written on it with the months written in Korean.  I still have that plate  as a souvenir.  

"You take care, Sergeant Frost." He shook my hand, "Happy New Year." I didn't know it at the time, but these would be the last words Mr. Ahh would ever say to me.