Kim Tai-sung Stands His Ground

Kim Tai-sung came home to Korea on September 28, 1962, formally invited as the representative of the Korean community in Vietnam for Armed Forces Day.

The next day, the twenty-ninth, Ki-jo took him into the Blue House. Chairman Park looked at that sun-blackened face and his expression warmed; the bronze of the skin seemed, to him, the mark of a man who worked.

"Hot down in Vietnam, is it?"

"Yes. Hotter than Korea."

Having opened on the weather, Chairman Park began to press him about Vietnam—this and that, one thing after another. Once again Lee Hu-rak kept his place at the Chairman's side.

"When our firms move into Vietnam, what help can you actually give them?"

At the question Kim Tai-sung drew a letter and a photograph from inside his coat.

"A personal letter from President Ngo Dinh Diem of Vietnam."

Chairman Park and Lee Hu-rak looked it over.

"President ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ngo Dinh Diem once put a stuffed tiger he'd received as a birthday gift up for charity auction. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I bought it at a steep price, the Vietnamese papers ran the story, and I got a bit of notice out of it."

"How steep are we talking?"

"The bidding had climbed to fifty thousand piastres. I called three hundred thousand and took it."

"You paid a pretty sum..."

Chairman Park nodded, the look of a man who could see well enough why he had done it.

"After that I was invited to the presidential palace and given the letter. I never met President Ngo Dinh Diem himself, but I did meet the First Lady, and we talked."

He said it while laying out the photographs he had taken with her. There were two: one that looked as if it had been shot inside the palace, and another taken in front of a cathedral.

"The man beside the First Lady is Ngo Dinh Nhu—President Ngo Dinh Diem's younger brother."

He was about to explain that she was not the President's wife at all, but his brother's, when Lee Hu-rak cut in.

"The Chairman already knows."

Kim Tai-sung paid him no mind and went on.

"I've put a great deal of work into the First Lady and the President's brother. Those two are the real power in Vietnam, so—"

"Come now. I told you he knows all that."

When Lee Hu-rak stepped in again, Kim Tai-sung shot him a look. Chairman Park spoke.

"Go on."

"Yes, Mr. Chairman."

Kim Tai-sung flicked him one sidelong glance and picked up the thread.

"President Ngo Dinh Diem is a bachelor, and he shares power with his younger brother and his brother's wife. You might call it a family business. Having no wife of his own, he has made his brother's wife First Lady and takes her with him to functions at home and abroad. And this First Lady is no ordinary woman. They call her Madame Nhu, and they say she thrusts herself deep into the business of state."

Chairman Park studied him and nodded. He seemed to like that the man had not flinched under Lee Hu-rak's rebuke.

"So. Did you manage to score any points with Madame Nhu?"

He asked it while lighting a cigarette.

"Yes. She's a fanatical Catholic, so I started attending a Catholic church myself and made a point of being seen. I'm on speaking terms with her husband, Ngo Dinh Nhu, as well."

"And what was your religion to begin with?"

"Buddhism."

A short laugh escaped Chairman Park as he tapped his ash into the tray.

"What's the mood in Vietnam these days?"

"They're taking the news that the Americans are pulling out of Laos as bad news. American troops and the Viet Minh are withdrawing at the same time, and the feeling is that the North will then throw everything it has against the South—and that the fighting will only get worse."

"Vietnam's in a fine mess too..."

He drew on the cigarette and let his gaze rest a moment in the empty air. Into that pause Kim Tai-sung said,

"Even so, Korea has sent a military advisory group to teach them counterguerrilla tactics, hasn't it? I'm told the Vietnamese army is well satisfied with what our men have passed on."

"And how do you know that?"

Chairman Park stared at him, startled.

"The moment I landed yesterday I went to the Vietnamese embassy, and a counselor there told me. When I said I'd be calling at the Blue House, he asked me to be sure to thank you, Mr. Chairman, for sending the advisory group."

At that, both Chairman Park and Lee Hu-rak looked as if the floor had dropped away. They had dispatched the group in the strictest secrecy so the Americans would not catch wind of it, and now the thing was out. They were plainly rattled. Chairman Park gave a hollow, incredulous laugh.

"The Vietnamese government is a sorry outfit. They can't even keep a promise made between governments, and then they wonder why the country runs the way it does..."

His mouth twisted at the bitter taste of it. Kim Tai-sung spoke anyway.

"Mr. Chairman, this is the moment. If we promise investment while Vietnam is in chaos—backed by a guarantee from the Korean government—Madame Nhu will welcome it. The President's brother, Ngo Dinh Nhu, will come over to our side as well. It'll take a little bribery, but leave that to me."

"Hm."

Chairman Park nodded as if he took the point.

"All the state can offer you is a guarantee. But if the Vietnam venture fails, the government of the Republic of Korea is in trouble too. We haven't the money to pay it back in your place."

"I know that, Mr. Chairman."

Kim Tai-sung squared his shoulders.

"I'm moving to land a forestry concession the Malaysian government is putting out in Sarawak—six hundred thousand acres."

"Forestry? How big is six hundred thousand acres?"

"Seven hundred twenty million pyeong."

"Sizable."

"About a third again the size of Jeju Island."

"And is the thing actually moving?"

"Yes. It may sound a little hasty to say so already, but it's as good as certain. Japanese firms have caught the scent that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'm going to win it, and they're coming to me with offers of partnership."

"Is that so."

He was offering the Japanese pursuit of him as proof of his own odds, and Chairman Park seemed to find a measure of persuasion in it. A faint smile touched his face.

"If the government will guarantee just one million six hundred thousand dollars, I can sell Sarawak timber through 1980 and bring in foreign exchange."

He was asking for a guarantee not only on Vietnam but on Malaysia as well. The smile that had been there a moment before went hard.

"So you need another government guarantee."

"Yes. Guarantee both. If both succeed, we succeed twice over. If one goes under, the other can make good the loss."

"And if both go under?"

Kim Tai-sung laughed, rough and open.

"Mr. Chairman, the Korean economy is already ruined. What difference does another three or four million dollars of debt make? Honestly, it's all the same pile, isn't it? But if it works, I figure we're looking at tens of millions—maybe a hundred million dollars or more."

Chairman Park barked a short laugh. A hundred million dollars was more than Korea's entire foreign-exchange reserves. His hand clamped down on the arm of the sofa and then released, and Ki-jo could feel him turning it over. To Ki-jo, who knew the years ahead, both ventures were already assured. To Chairman Park they must have felt like a gamble.

At last the Chairman lit a fresh cigarette, took several pulls, and said,

"If the businesses fail, President Kim, you can go on living in Vietnam and start over. If both of them fail, I become a traitor."

"Didn't you already accept that you might become a traitor when you made the revolution? A leader's fate is to be a hero if he succeeds and a traitor if he fails. Isn't that so?"

There was spine in it, and Chairman Park laughed, loud and rough. Ki-jo could feel the decision settle: the guarantee would be given. The Chairman blew ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠smoke into the air.

"How did you end up in Vietnam in the first place, President Kim?"

"I was a liaison for the Provisional Government in Shanghai. The Jap gendarmes got onto me, so I ran for Manchuria, came down through Guangdong, and settled in Vietnam."

He added that there was hardly a place he had not been—not only Vietnam, but Thailand, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Burma, Malaya, Laos, Cambodia. Only then did understanding come into Chairman Park's face: where the nerve had come from, the nerve to demand a government guarantee without bending an inch under Lee Hu-rak's snubs.

"I live in Vietnam now, away from Korea, but my heart is still where it was in the independence movement. I live by the will to save this country. This isn't simply a matter of making a little money. Please trust me."

Kim Tai-sung asked once more, and Chairman Park's face said he had heard quite enough.

With the Chairman's promise in hand, Ki-jo and Tai-sung were able to leave the Blue House.

Ki-jo took him home, set a home-cooked meal in front of him, and brought Ma-ryang in so the two could talk. Ma-ryang, who had spent long years wandering in China, found Kim easy company. Late into the night Kim Tai-sung told stories of the hardships he had endured there in the independence struggle, and then he went back to his hotel.

Two days later, on October 1, the fourteenth-anniversary Armed Forces Day ceremony was held at Hyochang Stadium. Until then the three services had each marked their own founding day; Chairman Park had folded them into a single observance.

Ki-jo and Kim Tai-sung attended and heard the Chairman's address. From the rostrum, in the largest commemorative speech since the founding of the armed forces, he stressed that the military must be the nation's exemplar.

He argued for the military's political neutrality, and for an army that served the nation. In those days the equation of army with dictatorship had not yet taken hold. The memory of April 19 was still fresh—the pride that the military had refused to stand with Syngman Rhee and had protected the people instead. May 16, too, was still credited as the army stepping in to check the corruption of civilian politicians and the disorder in the streets. And because Chairman Park himself had pledged to stay out of civilian politics, the speech carried weight.

The day after the ceremony Kim Tai-sung returned to Vietnam. Ki-jo told him he would soon bring businessmen over to see the situation on the ground for themselves. Once Kim was gone, he called in the members of Cheonwoohui who would join the Vietnam venture, laid the business out for them, and settled that they would go together.

On October 23 the Cheonwoohui members gathered one by one at Gimpo Airport. Chung Ju-yung, Kim Jong-hee, and Park Hee-jun arrived first and waited with Ki-jo for Cho Choong-hoon. Before long Cho came hurrying up, a newspaper flapping in his hand.

"Ki-jo! We're in trouble! The Soviets have put nuclear missiles in Cuba, and the Americans have decided to blockade the coast! The American president says he won't shrink from a nuclear war with the Soviet Union!"

At that the others turned to Ki-jo, startled. He did not so much as blink.

"Why are you so late? Come on, hyung, let's get inside."

"Doesn't this worry you at all? There's a war on between China and India, Washington and Moscow are talking nuclear war, and you still want us flying to Vietnam?"

"All the better. Then nobody but us will be investing down there, will they? The stairs ought to be in place by now. In we go."

He herded the four of them through the door to the departure concourse, and under his urging they moved out toward the runway. With a palm at the small of Cho's back—Cho still voicing his doubts—Ki-jo climbed the boarding stairs.

Opportunity, he believed, put out its flowers in the middle of a crisis. Meet Vietnam's dictators while the whole world is in an uproar, and the work ought to go twice as smoothly.