September — Chae Myung-shin

Chae Myung-shin assumed command of the Republic of Korea Army's 5th Division on April 12, 1960. Already famous for his incorruptibility, he spent his days touring Pocheon and Yeoncheon, the ground under the division's charge, hunting down what was wrong in the units and bending every effort toward setting it right.

While he lay buried in that forward countryside, Seoul tore itself open. The April 19 Revolution rose, Syngman Rhee stepped down, and before long Rhee fled into exile in Hawaii. Chae Myung-shin welcomed the fall of the corrupt Liberal Party regime.

Word came that Heo Jeong's caretaker government had taken the reins, and then that a Democratic Party administration had come to power, and he expected the world to grow kinder. Reality proved otherwise. The Liberal Party was gone, and still strange things kept happening.

In a backwater like Yeoncheon, reporters suddenly multiplied and came calling on the units under the 5th Division. Their business was blackmail — the threat to expose the fraud the army had committed in the rigged election of March 15. Nor were they one or two men. In Yeoncheon alone there were more than forty. Forty reporters in a single county, a farming district with hardly a decent job outside the fields, was far too many.

Whenever the division commander paid a visit, or whenever they were summoned to a meeting, the commanders of the subordinate units pleaded with him.

"It's killing us, General. Truly. If we want to shut the reporters up, we have to buy them lunch and hand them spending money every month besides. It isn't one or two of them. They take turns coming around to the units. We're going out of our minds."

He was not the only one. More than a single commander came to him that way.

Chae Myung-shin had taken up his post in April and had nothing whatever to do with the fraudulent election, but he knew the entire army had been mobilized for the March 15 vote. Among the commanders hounded by the reporters, some had indeed taken part in the fraud. Many others, though, were slipping the reporters bribes for fear their predecessors would be hurt.

The previous division commander was telephoning Chae Myung-shin himself at all hours. Major General Lee Yong, seventh class of the Korea Military Academy, rang Chae of the fifth class in a near panic, almost every single day.

Chae Myung-shin understood his junior's fear and his worry, and told him not to worry.

When the sham reporters and their threats had brought the entire division to the edge of paralysis, he made his decision. He gathered every officer from company commander on up and declared it plain.

After that, the commanders' pleas — that their families were going hungry so the reporters could be fed — disappeared.

When September came, four representatives of the Yeoncheon press corps called on Chae Myung-shin. He meant, if they came with threats, to roar at them to print whatever they liked and print it quickly. But the reporters who sought him out, far from threatening, only pleaded.

"General, there isn't a single reporter in Yeoncheon who draws a salary. The branch offices handed out press cards, and we've been trying to eat off those, and that's how it's come to this. We won't do it again. We swear it. Only — we hope you might work out some kind of measure for us."

Hearing that, Chae Myung-shin was struck dumb. Reporters coming to a man whose duty was to stop a North Korean invasion, and demanding he find them a living — could such a thing even be called reasonable? But that was the reality of the Republic of Korea in 1960. If reporters blackmailed officers in order to eat, the officers' families went hungry keeping the reporters quiet. If the officers shook off the threats and paid nothing, the reporters starved.

He told the delegation he understood, and sent them on their way.

In truth, Chae Myung-shin himself was at a loss. This was no longer the 1950s, when the army ran money-making businesses out in the open, and not even a division commander could feed and keep forty reporters.

After long worrying over it, he decided to seek out the richest village in Yeoncheon and go see the place for himself. If he went there, might there not be work the reporters could do and live by? That was why he went. Yeoncheon was familiar ground to him as well. The unit that had retaken Jeongok-myeon, in Yeoncheon County, during the Korean War had been his own.

He stopped in at Jeongok Station and let the old memories rise, then set out for Eundae-ri, the richest village in Yeoncheon.

The plain that received him was abundant. Across the wide fields, yellowing rice bowed its head and ripened.

Once he entered the village of Eundae-ri, he was startled by how advanced the place looked. A large rice mill stood within the village, and there were orchards and farms raising livestock. Trucks ran along the broad farm roads, laid out neat and straight, and he found himself wondering whether this could really be Korea. A small tractor was circling the fields — a machine he had never seen before, so strange and wonderful that he had the car stopped and went up close for a look.

Chae Myung-shin walked over to the farmer handling the machine and asked.

"Forgive me, but what is that machine called?"

"Ah, this? It's a machine they call a cultivator. Made by Cheongsan Machinery — the company our first village chief set up."

Hearing that, Chae ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Myung-shin had the feeling he had come across the name somewhere before.

"Your farm-machinery company has made a fine thing. It looks terribly expensive, though. What does one of these cost?"

"It's free."

"Free?"

Chae Myung-shin was astonished. He had wondered whether the villagers, Eundae-ri being a famously rich place, had pooled their money and bought the machine. To hear that it was free made no sense to him. At the very least, the thing looked worth the price of three or four oxen.

"The first chief hasn't had his cultivator company going all that long. He sent us a machine from the trial run. Told us to put it to work, and if anything was wrong with it, to let him know — so we're using it for nothing. Hahaha."

"Ah. Is that so?"

Only then did Chae Myung-shin understand. His eye caught the trademark fixed to the cultivator's flank.

He smiled. Whoever had named it, he thought, had found a name that belonged on a machine working with such lively spirit.

"Was it the first village chief who built this village?"

"Of course he did. Everyone living here — after the war, every last one of us was sharecropping somebody else's land. Then the Chief got the land together and told us to come live in this place. That's seven years ago already. The folks who trusted him and settled here, every one of them ended up rich. Even now, think of the Chief and my chest goes tight. There's nobody like him in this world. So whatever the village people manage to grow, they're busy sending it up to Seoul..."

The farmer's mouth did not stop. Chae Myung-shin, wondering whether anyone in times like these was praised so warmly, felt his curiosity stir.

"The first chief seems to have done rather well for himself. Is he here in Yeoncheon?"

"No. He lives in Seoul now. But he's coming to Eundae-ri today. Every autumn he comes and holds a feast with the village people. The Chief, and the ones who went up to Seoul — they come too. And those friends of his, let me tell you..."

Lit up with the pleasure of it, the farmer talked on for a long while. Chae Myung-shin heard him out, then stayed on in Eundae-ri with the intention of meeting this first village chief and speaking with him. When applause and cheering rose in front of the village hall, he slipped quietly over that way.

Men climbing down from two jeeps were embracing the villagers, each side glad of the other. Among them, three stood out: a handsome man impeccably dressed in a suit, a giant of great height, and a man who limped on one leg.

Chae Myung-shin drew closer and listened to what they were saying.

"Chief, the machine you sent works far better than an ox. I think we'd do better just to raise the oxen and sell them."

"Is that so? I'm glad. There aren't any problems with the machine?"

The handsome man in the crisp suit spoke mostly of farm machinery. Chae Myung-shin listened to the limping man as well.

"Hey, Jang Seokgu. Looks like you're doing a fine job as village chief. What — you planning to hold the post longer than Dr. Syngman Rhee ever did?"

"Aigoo, hyung. As if it's because I'm any good at it. Eundae-ri's a good place to live and it stands solid, so nobody's got a complaint. That's all. Haha."

The tall giant was speaking with an elderly man of the village.

"The teeth — are they holding up all right?"

"Ah, well. I chew on what I can and get by."

"I'll send for a dentist from Seoul. When the doctor comes, you be sure to get yourself seen."

"Ah, I'll do that. Thank you. Ma-ryang..."

Chae Myung-shin smiled, listening to the men from Seoul talk with the people of Eundae-ri. Just then the farmer he had first spoken with, on coming into the village, brought the handsome man over and introduced him.

"Chief, this gentleman is the commander of the 5th Division..."

Chae Myung-shin greeted the man and offered his hand.

"Chae Myung-shin, commander of the 5th Division."

"How do you do? I'm Lee Ki-jo, of Cheongsan Group."

Strangely, the man felt familiar to him. Then the young men around Lee Ki-jo caught sight of Chae Myung-shin, started in surprise, and came up to ask.

"Aren't you Chief of Staff Chae Myung-shin, who was at the Nonsan Training Center in '55?"

"I am. I was at the Nonsan Training Center in 1955."

"We were at Nonsan in '55 — don't you remember? Back then, General, you had us discharged."

"Ah... the orphans, conscripted by mistake... the soap incident!"

"Yes! That's right! You remember us!"

Chae Myung-shin remembered what had happened ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠five years before, and shook their hands with real pleasure.

It seemed to Ki-jo that meeting Chae Myung-shin in Yeoncheon might well be a bond of fate. Just as Han-su, Dae-ik, and Hyeon-su — dragged into the army by force because of Kim ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Chang-ryong — were glad to see him, Ki-jo was glad to meet him too.

Chae Myung-shin, who had been talking with Cheongsan's young directors, turned to Ki-jo and asked.

"By any chance, were you the one who telephoned me back then? The one who told me to look into the soap at the training center..."

"Yes. That was me."

Glad all over again, Chae Myung-shin seized Ki-jo's hand.

"So it was you. I was so grateful to you then!"

Ki-jo shared the village feast with him, and they talked. When Chae Myung-shin confessed that he had come to Eundae-ri because the reporters were begging him for work, Ki-jo said,

"There's a brick factory at Cheongsan-ri. It seems to me the reporters are doing what they're doing because they have no jobs. Tell them to go to the brick factory."

"Thank you, Mr. Lee."

Chae Myung-shin was grateful to the man who had solved his trouble. He was enjoying the feast food with a light heart when a look of old feeling came over him, and he spoke.

"I seem to have a great many ties to Yeoncheon."

"Do you?"

"Yes. During the Korean War I led the 21st Regiment of the 8th Division across the Hantan River. And then something happened at Jeongok Station."

"What happened?"

"Near the station then, there were five or six big warehouses the North Korean army had been using. They were heaped with military supplies — rice, uniforms, blankets, and the rest — and the enemy had fled without managing to take any of it."

Ki-jo nodded.

"But the suiting cloth in those warehouses caused the trouble. Fine wool for suits, which the People's Army had made off with from Seoul."

"Aha..."

Ki-jo could well imagine the scene that must have followed.

"The moment the men heard, they ran, every one of them, to get their hands on the cloth. Of everything in the warehouses it was the most expensive, and light enough to carry besides. Because of that, the advance on Yeoncheon went awry."

Chae Myung-shin said that even after he gave the order to assemble, a good many of the soldiers were nowhere to be seen.

"I sent officers to peel the men off that cloth, and had the emergency bugle blown to call an urgent muster. And the sight of them — it was something to behold."

He gave a helpless laugh.

"Every one of them fell in with his pack stuffed full of goods taken out of the People's Army warehouses, and some soldier couldn't even stand properly under the weight. The men staggering on their feet were not one or two."

"This is too shameful. Words aren't going to do it, I thought — and I assembled every last soldier at Jeongok Elementary School nearby."

Ki-jo filled Chae Myung-shin's empty cup with sikhye, the sweet rice drink. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man touched neither liquor nor tobacco.

"I called out the one sergeant who had crammed in the most suiting cloth, and stood him up on the platform. Then I gave them a proper speech."

Chae Myung-shin, who had been smiling, made the motion of drawing a pistol as he went on.

"I drew my pistol. In wartime, a commander had the authority to execute a soldier who refused an order."

He said he had fired at the sergeant's face, in front of the soldiers gathered on the schoolyard. Kim Seogwang, listening at his side, started in shock and stared at him.

"Screams of aagh broke out all over the schoolyard. The sergeant collapsed and rolled off the platform. A medic came running. It was chaos."

Not only Kim Seogwang but everyone around them had fixed on Chae Myung-shin.

"I told them I would give them one hour, and that every item was to be put back where it belonged. The soldiers, terrified, raced one another for Jeongok Station. When I inspected an hour later, every last item was back in its place."

"General. That soldier — did he die?"

When Ma-ryang asked, Chae Myung-shin laughed and shook his head.

"An ambulance rushed that sergeant off to the hospital. The soldier, who had fainted dead away, woke up perfectly fine. I had fired just past his ear."

"Aha! Of course!"

Han-su, Dae-ik, and Hyeon-su clapped, delighted. Everyone marveled at Chae Myung-shin's quick wit, and each of them tried to pour him a drink. He was busy declining, insisting that he did not drink. He was a man who had even refused a drink from Park Chung-hee, and they were all sorry for it.

Ki-jo looked at him and smiled. Of all the officers who had thrown in their lot with the May 16 coup, this one had been the cleanest — no private hunger for power in him — and something good came off the man. Hard years, the fifties and sixties, to have to eat and live through, Ki-jo thought, and yet there had been no shortage of people who kept hold of conscience and fellow feeling.

He spoke to Chae Myung-shin.

"General, pour me a glass. I want to receive a drink from you."

"Gladly. To be able to offer you a drink, sir, is an honor for me as well."

Chae Myung-shin willingly poured into Ki-jo's cup. Ki-jo hoped the bond between them would last a long, long time.