Menu
When Napoleon came to Korea
When I arrived in Korea in 1950 one of my roommates was a very large black man from Omaha. "Just call me Napoleon", he said by way of introduction. "I'm the world's largest water-boy." It turned out that Napoleon was the man responsible for keeping our compound supplied with water -- an important job, and a job eagerly sought after. He was able to come and go as he pleased. His hours were pretty much his own. He only had to answer to the Captain if we ran out of water.
Ours was the 130th Bakery Co., at Yong Dung Po, just across the Han River from Seoul. The 130th was housed in an old textile factory. Before the war it had been one of the largest factories of its type in the Orient, with many factory buildings, offices, and dormitories for the workers. But the fighting through and around Yong Dung Po and Seoul had been fierce. First, the North Korean invasion, and then the Chinese invasion had overrun the area. Each time the UN forces (mainly US and Korean) had counter attacked and taken it back. But the damage to the textile factory had been almost complete. By the time we established our bakery there the factory, which had covered 100+ acres, had been reduced to just a few buildings in one corner of the area.
In the 130th we used a lot of water, for baking, the mess hall, and for the personal needs of the men. The factory latrines were no longer functioning, nor were the quite elaborate baths that had been used by the factory managers, but we did manage to have a system rigged so that we could take warm, indoor showers. Napoleon could haul water from any one of four wells across the River in Seoul to fill his 500- gallon tank, which was attached on the back of a regular Army truck. The trips to Seoul for water took about an hour, and he usually made about four of these trips a day. This meant that he had a good deal of free time, which he put to good use. Over time he had become familiar with the various sections of Seoul. Whenever I had free time I liked to ride along on the trip to Seoul. We usually did a bit of sight seeing. It was just like having a private tour guide At the water wells in Seoul there were always other drivers from Army units in the area, also waiting for water. These fellows got to know one another while they bided their time, much like office workers around a water cooler, or farmers at an elevator.
Napoleon knew what was going on in every unit in the area, and used that information to advantage. He procured or traded one unit' s surplus goods for surplus goods or cash from another outfit. Over time these contacts developed into quite a lucrative business. In fact, the business became so good that he had to turn down promotions, since a promotion would mean he would have to leave his "Water-boy Job", and give up what virtually amounted to a personal vehicle, which was essential to conducting "business".
One time Napoleon and I were on the way to Seoul, where he was to pick up another tank of water. There were always crowds of people moving along the dirt roads, men with wood filled A-frames packs on their backs, women balancing huge loads on their heads, boys and girls carrying school books, and always little kids, barefoot, with smudged faces playing in the dust. The motor traffic on the roads was strictly Gl (there were no civilian autos), and on that day traffic was heavy, almost bumper to bumper, going both ways.
Napoleon had just been telling me about some of the hazards of driving in Korea that you don't find in the United States. Sometimes the roads were extremely narrow and the people walking didn't seem to pay any attention to the traffic, which was always heavy on the road to Seoul. Then there were the many ox carts on the road ---and they were slow. Many of those ox carts carried a tank, called a "Honey Wagon".
These "Honey Wagons" smelled to high heaven. Their operators used their "Wagons" to pick up the human waste from the latrines, for use on the rice paddies). "Can you imagine," said Napoleon, "what it would be like if we hit one of those honey wagons with our truck? Why, they'd never let us back in the compound!"
And then he told me about the Buddhists. In Korea, at that time, the Presbyterians and the Catholics had made some converts, and there were a few Shintoists, holdovers from the Japanese occupation, but in truth, almost all of the Koreans were Buddhists, but not all were mainstream Buddhists. There was one small sect, the "Spirit Worshippers" that gave motorists a great deal of trouble.
According to Napoleon, the people of this religious sect, especially young boys, believed that evil spirits followed them close behind, dogging them wherever they went, and brought them bad luck. They believed that one way they could rid themselves of this "Spirit" was to dash in front of a moving vehicle, so close that the "Spirit," following behind, would be hit and destroyed. They were not always successful, and many of these boys were struck by vehicles.
On this day we had almost reached the limits of the village of Yong Dung Po when a group of boys suddenly dashed out in front of the truck just ahead of us. Three of the boys made it across. The fourth one did not. The whole scene could not have taken more than a second or two, yet it seemed to play out in slow motion. The boy, maybe five or six years old, was struck by the fender of the truck, and thrown in front of the Jeep coming towards us. For just a moment it seemed as if the Jeep would miss him, but it was not to be. The back tire of the Jeep struck his head, and he was thrown for the second time into the air. He seemed to float back to earth, his scalp folded back from a crimson skull.
The traffic stopped. We all piled out of our vehicles and rushed over to help. The officer and his driver, from the Jeep, swept up the poor little body, jumped back into the Jeep and off they sped, to the hospital unit I'm sure. But it was a useless trip. We all knew it.
Napoleon and I were shaken. We drove on to the water well in Seoul. We didn't speak for a long time. Finally Napoleon broke the silence. "You know", he said, "The irony of that situation is really too much. That little fellow managed to stay alive for more than a year of pretty heavy fighting in this area. He survived two invasions and two counterattacks; then, when he should be safe, a truck driven by people who have come to save him kills him. Figure that one."