Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

“There’s a lot of work to do and he needs your help.”

“What is it?”

“C-rations.”

“They were pouring out for a solid week but then the flow suddenly stopped three days ago.”

Toi sat casually on the captain’s desk as they went on talking. Such informality would seem insolent if the two weren’t good friends, Yong Kyu thought.

“It’ll be pouring out again.”

“My guess is they stockpiled it in a house somewhere and are releasing it into the market a little at a time.”

“You heard, didn’t you?” the captain said to Yong Kyu. “Now that they’ve had a taste of it, they’ll try to lift another truckload before long. We’ve got to nail them before the Americans do.”

Yong Kyu and Toi left the office. Toi had his old Land Rover parked outside.

“Where to?”

“You know the recreation center?”

“Sure. And I know Sergeant Yun very well, too.”

Yong Kyu said nothing. He didn’t believe it. Toi must have sensed Yong Kyu’s suspicion, because he also remained silent and just clenched the wheel. They went across the bridge, passed by the navy PX and, crossing through the helicopter base, sped on toward the seashore. The asphalt cut a perfectly straight line through the sand, rows of palm trees on either side.

The American recreation center stood in the middle of a clump of big trees. In the distance they could see a collection of shabby tents and huts made of plywood and sheet metal. Several sailboats were neatly lined up on the beach along with surfboards and dinghies. The rec center seemed quiet. They passed by an open-air theater and continued driving down the sandy beach.

They pulled up in front of a large tent, and an army band member lying inside poked his head out. The band members’ hair was long and they were wearing bathing suits and Hawaiian shirts. It looked as though they had just polished off lunch as most of them were taking naps. Yong Kyu remembered how repulsed he was to see these cicadas from the band corps on the battlefield. Watching them rocking their heads and playing instruments, one of the grunts in the platoon had muttered he wouldn’t mind mowing them all down with his machine gun.

“Where’s the senior non-com?”

At Yong Kyu’s question, the band member rubbed his cheek with the cold soda can he was holding, like a businessman on vacation. His oiled and well-roasted back was glistening.

“The sarge has gone to the PX, but he’ll be back for lunch.”

“I’ll be with Gunnery Sergeant Yun over there, so when you see him, tell him to hurry over.”

As Yong Kyu turned around to head off with Toi toward a nearby hut, the guy asked from behind, “What contractor you with?”

Yong Kyu turned back around.

“We need to know what company you’re with so we’ll know where to go to play.”

The man had made a mistake. At once Yong Kyu grasped what he had meant and went with it.

“We’re with the Vinelli Company. Can you come this Saturday from around seven to nine o’clock?”

“That’s a conflict. At seven on Saturday we’re already booked at Monkey Mountain. Why not move it up to Friday?”

“I’ve got to see the gunnery sergeant, anyway.”

Yong Kyu felt like he already had them trapped. He looked back at Toi. “Why don’t you wait in the car?”

“It’s kind of hot.”

“There’s a breeze.”

“Okay.” Toi grinned.

Yong Kyu went on by himself to the hut. An office desk coated with dust and some chairs were strewn about in disorder amid piles of assorted equipment, including slot machines and other games. Since relocating from Chu Lai they still had not set up the game room. On the far side of the hut the gunnery sergeant was playing paduk with a private. There was a cool breeze from the ocean.

“My, my, what brought a high and mighty man like you all the way out here? Haven’t laid eyes on you for ages.”

Sergeant Yun set down his discs and got to his feet.

“Hey, how ‘bout bringing something cold to drink? Care for a beer? Or maybe cognac?”

Yong Kyu walked over and stood by the window. “I can’t drink, I’m on duty. . and I’ve got something to talk about.”

“To hell with duty, let’s have a drink.”

“Who’s going over to the Dong Dao junction these days?”

“Why. ?”

They both feigned a blank stare.

“I am,” the private said.

Yong Kyu lit his cigarette.

“How many cases have you run for?”

“What’s this all about, huh?” Sergeant Yun said, pounding the table. “If you start stabbing without rhyme or reason, the weaklings will all spill their guts. What is it, why are you doing this? Ask me, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“We hear C-rations are leaking out from here.”

With a look of dismayed astonishment, the sergeant blurted out a “Phew!” and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You drive me up the wall. Look, Corporal Ahn, any bastard laying hands on C-rations is a damned fool. The risk is big and the profit small. Besides, we can’t do that kind of thing.”

“Have any idea where the leak is?”

“Well. .”

The sergeant and private exchanged glances. Yong Kyu calmly said, “Bring in the ration inventory list and the requisitions, and let’s see the balance on hand here.”

“Why are you doing this? What do you get out of shaking us down?”

Yong Kyu waited.

“I think it’s over at Monkey Mountain,” the private haltingly mumbled.

“The navy. .?”

“It’s gathering there,” said Sergeant Yun, waving his hand as if in surrender, “because the administration is in a mess.”

“Must have been a few leaks from here, too?”

“And I’m sure you guys have none at all. Hey, let’s not do this to each other. All we took out were some raisins.”

“We hear there’s been a Korean woman hanging around here.”

“A woman. . not that I know of. Quite a few Koreans been going to the supply warehouse for services, though.”

“That hole’s been sealed,” Yong Kyu said, lightly tapping the sergeant on the chest with his fist, “because everybody knows about it.”

“Exactly my point. Who in their right mind would touch combat rations, out of everything there is? That’s all I’m saying.”

“Crossing the river can be a good reason for that.”

“Of course. If you want to bite off a big chunk, you gotta use the markets across the river. For smaller quantities, the base villages around here can swallow the stuff easy enough.”

Just then the door opened and in walked a man wearing a woven hemp vest over a black shirt. His hair was styled in a slicked-back regent style and two gold bands adorned the index and middle fingers of his hand.

“Are you the guy looking for me?”

Yong Kyu nodded. Sergeant Yun moved swiftly. He had to identify Yong Kyu’s status immediately so that the staff sergeant from the army band detachment would speak carefully.

“Watch your mouth. Our friend here is with CID.”

His immediate unease was apparent on his face. Yong Kyu gave him no time to think.

“Do you take orders through that platoon leader? I heard you have a performance planned for seven o’clock this Saturday.”

“Ah, that’s a. .”

“As I understand it, the army band is mobilized solely for performances arranged to enhance the morale of Korean forces to improve their readiness for battle. My question is, who is your promoter? Who gave you permission to perform at your pleasure for money?”

Sergeant Yun giggled.

“Hey, hey, Corporal Ahn, just close your eyes to the kids trying to make a little pocket change, you know. And you, Pak, just give him all the information he wants.”

The army band sergeant stood there awkwardly, combing back his hair with his fingers.