Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

“They confessed buying on the black market. Lukas got their signatures here.”

“But there’s no signature of the seller. No signed statement of an eyewitness, either. The sentry merely stopped them at a checkpoint. So, this is not a black market case, it’s one that falls within our disciplinary jurisdiction. We’ll handle it as a matter of entering an off-limits area or as an unauthorized use of leave. The money they paid for the goods must be returned in the amounts shown in the report.”

The sergeant shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. They made signed confessions and the chief has approved our action already. Now all you need to do is take over custody of the two recruits.”

“That’s not right. It’s just arrogance. Even if they were stopped within your compound, it is our matter to deal with. And our soldiers were using our money when they bought the goods.”

“It’s the practice of the American forces to consider all events occurring in our compounds as falling under the jurisdiction of the American forces.”

“All right, but you can still return the money.”

“It doesn’t work that way. Since it’s been approved, the goods will go back where they were before sale.”

“And what happens to their money, then? The money that’s gone into the PX, does it go to your government or to the marines?”

“Watch what you say, sergeant, keep in mind this is a military investigation office of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.”

“Fine. I’ll also make a separate investigation of the case and send up my own report.”

“Suit yourself. But sergeant, you can’t challenge the authority of the American forces. This case was handled by the book and it’s been closed. Don’t try to second guess us.”

“I’m not trying to challenge it, but to rectify it.”

Yong Kyu emerged from the investigation office and went back into the main building. Then he headed down the stairs to the basement where a uniformed MP was sitting at a desk. Thanks to the ventilation system, the basement was cool inside. He spoke to the MP and then went inside and further down, finding the two soldiers crouching behind bars in the corner of a cell. He opened the doghouse with the key given him by the MP.

“Come on out here.”

They awkwardly saluted, holding their pants up with the other hand.

“Personal effects in custody?”

“Yes, sir. Our watches, wallets, cigarettes. .”

“I see. Follow me.”

He gave the American MP a signed paper to acknowledge transfer of custody and received the box containing their personal effects. The two soldiers rethreaded their shoelaces, put their belts back on and took back their helmets. Yong Kyu led them to the CID office. The staff sergeant, lounging in the captain’s chair with his legs up on the desk, quickly put his feet on the floor.

“Hey, did they agree to give the money back, or what?”

From his attitude, right away Yong Kyu sensed that the sergeant had made a deal of some kind with the soldiers.

“Give me a hundred.”

Yong Kyu held out his hand. The team leader rolled his eyes with surprise.

“Now, now, what a thing to say to a poor man like me. Ask Pointer to pitch in, man. You guys are like family, huh?”

“They refused to cough up the money. Shit, these boys are screwed, so we’re going to make up their loss with a hundred from you and a hundred from me.”

Stunned, the staff sergeant stared back at Yong Kyu with his mouth hanging open.

“You don’t think a lowly sergeant like me is loaded with cash, do you? I’m not even prepared for going home myself. Anyway, these bastards asked for it, they deserve it. You two idiots, when you get back home there’ll be plenty of that kind of junk at the base PXs, so what the hell were you doing slinking around an off-limits PX here?”

Documents in hand, Yong Kyu was getting ready to take statements from the soldiers when he paused to look over at the staff sergeant.

“You go on first.”

“Mmmm. What about these boys. .”

“I’ll handle them all right.”

Pretending to not want to leave, the staff sergeant barked a rebuke at the soldiers as he got up.

“Listen, you two, when you get your money back, at least give him some beer money, understand?”

Ignoring this remark, Yong Kyu flattened him, saying, “Go straight there. Don’t stop to see the Hong Kong Group.”

“I’ve washed my hands of them.”

“The chief has his eye on them. We’ll fall on them hard. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Once he was gone, Yong Kyu looked closely at the two soldiers in turn. He knew very well the face of a fighter: expressionless, and not just because of the skin tightened and tanned dark by a scorching sun. Yet the eyes set in that dull and inarticulate face shine brightly in a mysterious way. While at the front line, the messy hair and the stubbly beard along with those wild eyes give an impression of animal-like vitality, but once wrenched away from combat into a city environment like this office, that face looks different, spent and dazed. The insecure, frightened movements and the impassive surface make them looked down upon.

Yong Kyu questioned them: posts, ranks, names, and details of the incident.

“Why did you go to the marine PX to buy a TV?” he asked the private. “Couldn’t you buy it in your own compound?”

“In our compound all they have is beer and toothbrushes and stuff like that, so we have to go to brigade headquarters to buy anything big. My family has been hounding me to bring home a TV, so I didn’t send my pay home for two months and saved up the money to buy one. I’m going home soon, you see.”

So, with the price of two months’ survival, this soldier had purchased a National television set.

“How did you buy it?”

“From the recreation center you can see the American PX through the barbed wire fence. So I sneaked in there and got hold of an American and begged him. In return he asked me for a set of jungle fatigues. So I brought him a uniform and he bought the TV for me. But then another bastard showed up and took it away. We’re no different from them. . we’re all shipped in here and take the risk of having our heads blown off, right?”

“All right. And you, did you do it the same way?”

“Yes, sir. We went with our squad leader.”

“Where did you get the hundred and twenty dollars?”

“I saved twenty a month for six months, sir. I wanted to buy a camera but was so fascinated by the voice coming out of the recorder. . well, I was going to record all the voices of the old people in our neighborhood when I get home.”

“You weren’t planning to resell it, were you?” Yong Kyu asked the private.

“Why, why would I sell it, sir? It’s hard enough to buy, who the hell would I sell it to?”

“Don’t you have a ration card?”

“What’s that?”

No wonder they were in such a mess, he thought. Some bastard had intercepted their ration cards and probably used them to buy up to the limits for goods to sell in the local black market.

“Everybody in the Allied Forces is entitled to a ration card,” said Yong Kyu. “You didn’t have yours, and that’s why they confiscated your things.”

“It’s the first time I ever heard of that, sir.”

Tears started welling up in the private’s eyes. That too, Yong Kyu knew very well. Anyone fresh off the battlefield is very vulnerable. Due to the excitement, actually like a state of intoxication, he finds it hard to adjust to the atmosphere of ordinary society. Yong Kyu remembered once, right after returning from a mission, he had cried his eyes out after glancing through movie ads in a newspaper that arrived by mail from home. It reminded him how people’s daily routines went right on as always, totally oblivious to the critical danger to his own life. If he had had a weapon in hand, he might have broken down and shot himself, or just sprayed the people in the street with bullets. This man in a similar state was going back home now, returning home a different man. Despite himself, despite the ineradicable scars in his brain, gradually he will revive or reform. But now, what about the two hundred dollars?