I was due return to the United States in December. I talked to my mother in July, telling her how much I looked forward to seeing her and show her the grandkids. Mom had suffered a mild stroke in May but had recovered very well and continued to work as normal. However, she now told me that she didn’t think she would make it. “Fine thing to say, Mom. Here it was two months later, when I am getting ready to come home with my family, you you’re not going to make it?” I angrily replied. “Of course, you’re going to make it. You can’t leave me alone with my family as I’m about to return to the US.” I’m sorry to say that as I write these lines, how selfish I appear… thinking only of myself and not how she was feeling. She gently demurred saying: “Of course, I will try…” saying in effect God’s will.
That was the last time I spoke with her. She died the following month. On Saturday morning I was at work in Osan Air Base as I had weekend duty. Suddenly, my squadron commander drove up in a pickup truck to tell me that the Red Cross had called with an emergency message regarding my mother—she was in a coma and they were preparing to fly me home courtesy of the Red Cross. I went to our house and told My Girl what happened… and that I was going to fly to New York. She was surprised but said for me not to worry about our house and kids.
I flew out of Korea that afternoon. Korean time is about 14 hours ahead of Eastern Time, so I gained 14 hours. I got to New York around 8:00 p. m. My sister met me at the airport, got a cab and went directly to Jamaica Hospital Medical Center where my mother was in the ICU.
My mom had suffered a massive stroke: her eyes were wide open staring, unblinking and non-responsive; but she knew I was there. I kept calling her “Mama, Mama.” She didn’t wake up from her coma, but I felt that she knew I was there. The doctors said that there was nothing to do other than wait. As it was late, they told me and my sisters to go home. They would call with any changes. I kissed her forehead and left. She died six hours later. She had wanted for me to return to New York and have all of us together before she died.
My Girl called a couple of days later. I told her the news and she cried. Mom had been very kind to her when she came to Korea and felt really bad for me. I told her I would be coming home in about 10 days. But it was not to be so simple.
Another death in the family
After my mother’s funeral I was planning to return to Korea. A couple days prior to my leaving, my Brother-In-Law were hanging out having a couple of drinks when we got news that his younger brother had been shot and killed… GAWD!!! Apparently he had ripped off a Colombian drug dealer of some money. The guy came back with a couple of heavies, pulled the brother out of the bar, stood him up against a wall, and shot him.
Brother-In-Law and I rushed over to the hospital where they had taken his brother. Brother-In-Law’s mother was there; she was distraught and said: “Don’t say anything to me. I went through this when your father was killed.” Brother-in-Law’s entire family is Italian and Brother-In-Law’s father had been involved with one of the Mafia families; he was killed during the Mafia Wars of the early 1970s. We went inside the operating room where the brother was. He looked like he was sleeping. He had a very small hole on his upper chest. It was a surreal scene: I expect the brother to sit up and ask “WTF am I doing here”… He didn’t. I wondered how in God’s name could he have died from such a small caliber wound. Evidently, the bullet entered his upper body, deflected off a bone or something to that effect and went into his heart. He pretty much died instantly.
Brother-In-Law was beside himself. We went outside, and some friends of the brother met us. One of the guys had seen what happened, could identify the killer, and knew where the killer lived. Brother-In-Law decides that he wants to go and get his hands on Killer. It’s now 1 in the morning. As we are walking, I’m thinking: “WTF is going on… this is insane.”
I tell Brother-In-Law: “If you go get this guy, you’re probably going to be arrested at minimum; if the guy doesn’t kill you first. What is your mom going to do if you get arrested and thrown in prison or you get killed?
Brother-In-Law: Yeah, I was thinking about that.”
Great! This was the chance to cool off the situation and contact the police. I told him that the best was to handle this was for us to watch the apartment building to make sure those guys didn’t run away while waiting for the police. One of the guys started to object but now I was in my military mode and took charge: “SHUT UP!” “This is how we’re going to do it.” There were no further objections.
We got to the apartment building. The Colombian lived in the 5thfloor; and the lights to the apartment were on. I organized the group into teams of two to keep eyes on every exit from the apartment while I called the police. I told the guy who could identify the Killer to stay by me. I called the police and gave them the information. They told me they had already identified Killer and were on their way. A few minutes later, the whole place lit up. There were police cars everywhere. I walked over to a couple of presumed detectives (good presumption), told them I had called them and had the guy who could identify Killer. They were actually pissed off at me for having called 911. The detectives told me that they had been on their way—I didn’t like their attitude. “We didn’t know that; and we don’t care who arrests the Killer: you or the regular police, as long as the Killer gets arrested.”
We followed the police into the building and Brother-In-Law and I ran up the stairs. In New York, the doors of apartments are made of metal. I saw two huge policemen take a big metal battering ram, and after a couple of powerful strikes, knocked the door open. Then a plain-clothes policeman with a flak jacket on pointed a shotgun at the inside of the apartment and screamed for the people inside to come out with their hands in the air. The scene was right out of a Hollywood movie …but is was oh so real. I actually hoped that the assholes inside would fight it out and get blown away. But they didn’t put up a fight (it turned out that there were three cockroaches inside) … Police went inside the apartment and shortly brought out some ugly piece of crap. He was shirtless and had his hands cuffed behind his back. Brother-In-Law immedi-ately attacked him pounding him in the head before two police officers yanked him off. I grab-bed Brother-In-Law and told him to cool it. The police wouldn’t let him get at the guy and he would get in trouble himself for possible assault.
Finally, things settled down and we went home. I was kind of bewildered. My Mom had just died and now this??? What more could happen? That it did…
A few days later, the brother’s funeral was held. A lot of people showed up. The funeral home was in Corona, a working-class neighborhood with lots of Italians. Suddenly I hear some commotion outside, and went out to see WTF was going on.
A large group of youths had gathered and had started to argue with some of the brother’s friends. Suddenly 6 or 7 punks attacked one of the friends. This guy just covered his face and hear and went down to his knees in a defensive crouch position. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Inside Brother-In-Law’s grandmother kept crying and wailing for her dead grandson and here were these dirtbags making trouble outside. I was outraged!!!
I began to grab guys by the hair and back of their shirts pulling them off brother’s friend. I roared in my loudest and most authoritative military baritone for them to have some consideration and leave. At least this quieted them down though they remained hanging around but in a much less confrontational mode.
Brother-In-Law, my sister, and I got into a cab to go home. Suddenly we noticed a car following us and could see the guys inside (5 or 6) taunting us. I told the cab driver to continue to drive at normal speed and for Brother-In-Law to ignore them. After a few blocks they drove off.
As a result of the brother’s death, I postponed my flight for the following week. My Girl called me as we had scheduled prior to my original flight day. I explained to her the situation and that I would be delayed by another week. She seemed kind of bewildered by it all. But okay.
A week later, I finally got on my flight to Korea. As I said previously, at the time Korea had a curfew between midnight at 4:00 a. m. Anyone caught violating curfew faced lots of trouble, including jail time or depending on where you were, being shot. The Korean military police had no reservations about shooting first and asking questions later. These fears were not without foundation. A couple of years earlier North Korean assassins had tried to kill South Korean President Park Chung Hee; they missed and killed his wife instead. One year before Mom died, the North Koreans hacked two American officers to death over the cutting of a tree by the demilitarized zone (DMZ). Accordingly, the South Koreans were in no mood to play around.
The day I arrived back in Korea was Chuseok, the harvest festival which stretches for 3 days. Most Koreans go visit their hometowns and otherwise the country is on a 3-day holiday shutdown. Problem{ I finally got back to Yongsan US Army Garrison at 9:00 p. m. The bus to Osan Air Base was about to leave and it was the last bus of the night… The driver told me the bus was completely full and that I couldn’t get on. I told him … “Be serious”. That did the trick … and the 1000 won ($2.00) bill that I gave him. I sat on my luggage in between seats.
The trip took about an hour. I collected all my bags, got out of the bus at the station before entering the base and walked home. As I was nearing our home, the owner of a TV repair and electronics shop saw me and yelled out really happy: “SON NO. 1 APPA (Daddy)!!!” He seemed really happy to see me. I’d been gone for only 3 weeks so I didn’t know what the big deal was. “Must’ve been celebrating the holiday’” I thought. I opened the door to our compound and called out for My Girl. She almost had a heart attack—she started crying, hugging me, etc. Methinks “Gee, this is really nice. Maybe I should leave for a couple of weeks every now and then...” The kids were fine.
Later My Girl explained to me that the neighbors had begun to think that I had abandoned the family. Everyone had started to give her knowing and pitying looks. It had really gotten to her and depressed her. Me: “I would die first before abandoning you and the kids! Never would I do that,” I said grandly but honestly. Unfortunately, the fact is that it has happened many times that American military personnel live with a Korean woman; she gives birth to a child; and the man goes back to the States abandoning the woman and child. I’m not aware of an American military female abandoning her kids in Korea with their Korean father.
In any case, thereafter all quickly went back to normal though the neighbors treated me with even more respect than previously. I couldn’t ever imagine me abandoning My Girl and our kids.
After I told her all that happened, My Girl got really spooked. She imagined that the US would be like the wild west where everyone goes around shooting each other. I reassured her that this is not so. No, despite all of the bullshit about mass shootings, terrorists, etc., these are the exceptions to life in America. Nevertheless, without a doubt that was one of the most difficult and craziest times of my life.
