The Farewell Ceremony

After Hee-jun returned to America, Gijo set about dismantling the Yongsan Brickworks. Whether Roberts decided to invest in Korea's coal and cement or not, the coal-briquette plant was going to be built. To raise it, he summoned Kim Seogwang and Seong Dae-ik up from Busan to Seoul.

The seasoning plant in Busan had found its footing and gone into trial production, and Seogwang and Dae-ik had nothing left to do down there. The works could be left to the engineer-track directors—men like Hyeon-su and Seok-mun.

On the day the demolition began, Gijo ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠went out to the site with Dae-ik. Kim Seogwang was already there, giving orders.

"The smokestack comes down first! You start by smashing the factory, and then what?"

Seogwang was bellowing at the top of his lungs. Since his return from Busan there was a new force in him.

"You got a brain in there or don't you? Drop the chimney first and clear the whole mess at once. Knock the buildings down first and you'll just have to haul a fallen stack away on top of everything else!"

He bore down hard on the demolition foreman.

A short while later the men from Korea Explosives arrived and set charges against the smokestack. Everyone was moved well back, and the blasting team pressed the detonator.

Boom!

The chimney of the Yongsan Brickworks toppled sideways in the blast. Dust billowed up, and the onlookers clapped and cheered.

Seogwang set the crew to work and walked over to where Gijo and Dae-ik stood.

"Thank you for your trouble, Director Kim. If you hadn't been here, we'd have had a real disaster on our hands."

"Hah... These people have no head for the work. Tell them to tear a factory down and all they can think about is smashing away at it. Honestly..."

"I think you'll have to keep an eye on the site yourself, Director. The scrap brick that comes out of it, share that with the neighbors. Just keep a close hold on the metal."

Gijo's order was plain enough: don't let anyone walk off with the scrap iron, which was worth real money.

"Yes, sir! Understood."

Back in Seoul and living with his family again, Seogwang seemed to have strength surging through his whole body. He answered with vigor and turned back toward the demolition crew.

Gijo and Dae-ik stayed on a little longer, looking over the site.

"Dae-ik. How's it coming, turning the assets into cash?"

"Well enough, sir. But does the new business really need so much money that you're even renting out the Hannam-dong house you were living in?"

"No. It's not that. I couldn't manage it alone, but it's not enough to make the company stagger. I let the house go for another reason."

While he gathered cash against the Yeongwol venture, Gijo had also moved out of the Hannam-dong house. There was a chance the fine residence would give offense while he was seeking approval for the mining rights. This was a time when a bribe was simply expected whenever a concession had to be got ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out of the government. Rather than offer a measured bribe, he had chosen to make himself as small as he could and leave the house. He had no wish to be talked of as a man who lived in a palace and still would not spend money on officials.

Gijo's household went back to their old home, and Hyeon-gyeong's family moved into the neighboring house, where Ma-ryang had been living.

"But the Minister of Commerce and Industry taking the lease—was that your doing, sir?"

"No. I put the house up, and he got wind of it somehow and came around."

"The Commerce Minister is really something. He came out of the Government-General, and he's done just fine for himself since liberation."

"Well. That's how the world goes..."

Gijo smiled a bitter smile. Men of that sort were hardly rare among officials, politicians, the army, and businessmen. If you meant to keep a business alive, you had to look at such people with your eyes gone deliberately dim. He changed the subject.

"Is Hyeon-gyeong learning the work?"

"Yes, sir. She's quick with figures, and exact, so I trust her. Her temperament is... how should I put it. There's something of Han-su hyung in her."

"Is there?"

Gijo was curious what Dae-ik made of her.

"Hyeon-gyeong's outgoing. Director Shim is terribly shy."

"Ah, that's true enough. But they both know how to keep their mouths shut, and they're honest. They don't say what doesn't need saying, and there's a warmth in them toward people."

It nagged at Gijo that Dae-ik should speak of Hyeon-gyeong as warm. He sounded him out, lightly.

"Dae-ik, is there a woman you're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seeing?"

"Me? Not at all."

Dae-ik waved the very idea off.

"What about someone like Hyeon-gyeong?"

"Oh, please don't say that, sir. That would be a real disaster. Miss Hyeon-gyeong and Han-su hyung are already..."

Gijo smiled, just a little.

"All right. I understand, so let it be. You and I will watch, and we'll keep quiet."

Everyone in the office knew Han-su and Hyeon-gyeong liked each other. Only the two of them seemed to be laboring under the illusion that they weren't showing a thing.

"Let's go have breakfast, Dae-ik."

Gijo headed for the Seoul office with him.

When they arrived, Sunrye and Soon-young were out in the back yard, boiling soup in a great iron cauldron. It was meant for the Cheongsan radio men next door as well.

Gijo sat at the conference table with Ma-ryang, Han-su, and Dae-ik. Hyeon-gyeong was out in the yard, ladling soup and rice and passing it around. He noticed that Han-su's bowl, alone among them, had been packed tight, the rice pressed down until it would hold no more, and a laugh escaped him. Ma-ryang and Dae-ik seemed to feel the same; they were grinning.

"Why is everyone laughing, sir?"

Han-su asked.

"It's nothing. Pay it no mind, and eat plenty."

Sunrye, Soon-young, and Hyeon-gyeong herself sat down, and the meal began. Gijo liked eating in company. The most painful hours of his eleventh life had been those in the country house, when he cooked for himself and forced the food down alone, mouthful by stubborn mouthful. Nothing contented him so deeply as a meal with the Cheongsan family. He knew that the golden time of a life is the time when there is someone to sit and eat with you.

While they ate in that easy warmth, Soon-young asked,

"Brother-in-law, there's Pungguk Confectionery right near where you're building the briquette plant. Couldn't Cheongsan take that over, too?"

"Pungguk Confectionery?"

The Pungguk plant in Yongsan had been built by a Japanese owner in the colonial years. During the Second World War it turned out the hardtack the Japanese army ate; after liberation it passed to the U.S. Military Government as vested enemy property, and from 1952 it had been making hardtack for the Korean army. In the original history, in 1956, Lee Yang-gu of Tongyang Confectionery acquired Pungguk in Yongsan and began in earnest to produce gum, candy, and caramel. For Lee Yang-gu, who had made a fortune selling sugar in Busan, it was the starting point of a real confectionery business.

"Why Pungguk?"

"I was hoping we could make something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to snack on, too. Children or grown-ups, there's nothing sweet for people to eat between meals."

At that, Ma-ryang put in a word.

"All you ever think about is food. We're busy with other work."

"And how important is food? A person doesn't get through a day unless something goes in their mouth."

Gijo laughed.

"Ha ha. Let's think about it later, sister-in-law. Money's a little tight just now."

One word from Gijo, and that was the end of it. When the meal was done he brushed his teeth and made ready to go out. Around half past eight, a car from the American Embassy drew up in front of the Cheongsan office. It was Frank. Gijo left in Frank's car, and the Cheongsan family saw him off—he was going to the farewell ceremony for Major General Will Martin, commander of the U.S. 7th Infantry Division.

The 7th Infantry Division, Dongducheon.

Gijo watched the farewell for Will Martin, who was giving up command of the division and returning to the United States. The Star-Spangled Banner and the military marches rang out over the grounds, and a gun salute was fired. Hardly a Korean was there. It was the aftereffect of the attempt on Commander Taylor's life, a month before.

On January 18, General Taylor, commander of the Eighth Army, had been visiting Army Headquarters in Daegu. In the middle of a meeting in the situation room, a Korean officer smashed through the window and came within a breath of killing him. The gunman who burst in with a pistol was a Major Kim Ki-ok. Chung Il-kwon, the Army Chief of Staff, who had been sitting beside Taylor, drove a fist into Kim's jaw; the commander of the Second Army got him by the throat; between them the Korean generals brought him down. Taylor—commander of Far East Ground Forces, and of the Eighth Army—had nearly lost his life to an officer of the Korean army.

The foreign press broke the story first. It was kept from the domestic papers until the next day, when the Director of the Office of Public Information personally announced the outline of what had happened, and so the country learned of it. The whole of Korea had been shaken. General Taylor himself was present at Major General Martin's farewell.

Watching the ceremony, Gijo felt hollow. The man was moving up, a promotion, and Gijo had meant to congratulate him with a whole heart, but his face would not quite obey him.

When the event was over and Martin had finished his greetings with the Korean and American officials, he called Gijo into the office last of all.

"Well, the farewell's behind me. All that's left is to leave. It still doesn't feel real."

"Congratulations, General. When you make lieutenant general, please come back to Korea."

"Ha ha. I'd like that myself. Asia matters more than Europe. The next war is going to break out in Asia. I've a feeling it'll be Vietnam..."

Major General Martin had read the drift of history correctly. Vietnam, its war with France just ended, would soon tear itself apart in a civil war, as Korea had. Gijo hoped that once the general went home and turned to the study of the Indochina war, he would see Vietnam clearly, and help keep the United States from walking into a war there. Of all the wars of the twentieth century, Vietnam was the most meaningless. South Vietnam, its people lost to the tyranny and corruption of dictators, was a country with no hope of winning. Lives and resources past counting would be poured out for nothing.

"Before I leave Korea, I have something for you. This time don't refuse it. Take it."

Martin handed him a single sheet of paper.

"This is my letter of recommendation. For you. Pass it to the U.S. Army transportation officer. It'll do you more good than a little. Americans set a great deal of store by a letter like that."

Gijo remembered the time he had asked Martin for a memorandum of understanding. A document he had demanded as a last resort, to draw in Chairman Chung Ju-yung of Hyundai Construction.

"Thank you, General."

"Don't thank me. I know about that business in January, when you hauled U.S. Army beer in Busan. The MP officer guarding the 55th Quartermaster Depot wrote the whole thing up in detail."

"My people did the hard work."

"They did. It was practically a war. Word's gotten around among the American quartermaster officers. They say the men of CS Transport are warriors. You'll be hearing good news before long."

"Thank you."

Gijo believed Major General Martin's recommendation would carry real weight.

"My successor will be Major General Callaway. I'll put in a good word with him, too."

Martin himself seemed sorry to be parting. With regret settled over his face, he looked around the office. This time it was Gijo who held out what he had prepared.

"General, this is a gift I had made for you."

Martin opened the small wooden box, and inside was a bust of himself, carved in stone. Director Oh Seok-mun had made it at Gijo's request.

"Ha ha ha. This is me?"

"Yes, General. Carved from Korean granite."

"Thank you, Gijo. Making me laugh before I even go. Ha ha ha."

They shook hands.

"You take care of yourself. I have a feeling you're going to be someone I truly remember."

"I won't forget you either, General."

"Korea will never be forgotten. Not for the rest of my life. When I retire, I'm of a mind to set up a foundation for Korea, the way General Van Fleet did. Or I might just go and work under General Van Fleet. A commander, once he's yours, is yours for good."

"Retirement is still a long way off, General."

Gijo embraced Major General Martin one last time and stepped out of the office.

In the car on the way back to Seoul, Frank spoke.

"Ah. There's something I forgot to pass on to Mr. Lee."

He handed over a sheet of paper. It was a document that had come in by telex.

"It wasn't classified, so I had no choice but to read it first. Congratulations."

Gijo read it, and without meaning to, he clenched his fist.

"Just how many businesses is Cheongsan trying to run? Bricks, construction, communications, transport, and seasoning—and now you're reaching for coal and cement too? Ha ha."

Frank eyed him the way a man eyes a glutton already reaching for the next plate.

"They all connect."

"I know. Vertical integration. But try a stunt like this in the United States and they might take your company apart under the antitrust laws."

At the joke, Gijo broke into a bright smile.

Roberts had sent the United States Information Service the following reply by telex.

It was a short letter, sent by telex, but a great deal was held inside it. Roberts, it seemed, had agreed to everything Gijo had asked of him, and everything he had advised.