THE COMMAND BUNKER
U.S. FORCES, KOREA
16 May 78

Dear Rog,
 
It was a remarkable plunge from the euphoric heights of Airwing Five to the dank concrete command bunker, Fifteen inches of reinforced concrete isolate the Watch Team from the sounds of automatic weapons fire (last December, on the night of the Generals) and the chanting of the Student Demonstrators (today.)
 
I arrived in this particular Vale of Tears thoroughly fatigued. The trip to the States was extra-ordinarily intense, coving both coasts with empties and bad checks. Extinguishing the various fires of Passion that had been so carefully banked; Drunk and Shell Shocked did I arrive, and deparled the same way. I found to my surprise that I had bought a few lbuilding lots in Northern Michigan, many of them above sea level.
 
I came within $250 of proposing to a blonde in Detroit. The only thing that prevented that rash act was a fully paid airline ticket in my pocket out of the country. Prior planning is a must for these emotional journeys to the Land of the Big PX.
 
 I remember arguing about Afghanistan both in San Francisco and Boston. The heated words in the former dynamited a potentially lucrative relationship with an heiress. The one in Boston culminated in a frantic drive down the Massachusetts coast to Cape Cod, by which time I was in a suitable frame of mind to appreciate the mini-submarine some friends had bought to engage in free-lance import and exporting.
 
Whew.
 
Quite a trip. But then, you have recently been back yourself. I am amazed that I once lived there and didn't think anything of it. I was shaken from my haze as the Korean Airlines 747 mashed into the runway at Kimpo International.
 
Suddenly I was back home among strangers: tiny Japanese cars honking wildly, lights flashing. Oriental soldiers in green fatigues with M-16s. What a relief. 
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Such inconvenience was a welcome reminder that contrary to what they appear to believe back Home. Life is not an easy business. Naturally there was no room at the Bachelor Officer's Quarters; instead I wound up at the Seoul Hyatt Regency.
 
I was staying in luxury, but didn't have the cash to take cabs down the hill to Yongsan Garrison. Having my household goods shipment ripped off for all the stereo gear I had so laboriously hauled up and down the ladders on Large Building 41. Most of it had never been unpacked. I'm glad the thieves got such a good deal. By Black market standards, the $1,300 they got from me is worth an easy $8,000 out the gates.
 
Thank goodness I was uninsured. I like to pay for Life's Little Lessons. The Army says they may be able to pay me off at 6 cents on the dollar sometime next year.
Thus, it was with some wonderment that I heard myself utter the phrase "Goddamn! I wish I was back in the Fleet!"

My first greeting from the People Who Joined the Army (Navy Division) was "Welcome Aboard! Shave that beard!

It has been steadily downhill ever since. The Army considers Seoul (10th largest City on Earth) to be a Remote Assignment- and thus paperwork is thus eons slower that the usual snail-like pace. I tried to explain to a First Lieutenant that "remote" is more like a point 2,000 milrs northwest of Diego Garcia- An exercise in futility.

Goddam, I wish I was back in the Fleet.......

I was up at the DMZ last week and had an opportunity to witness Godless Communists in the Flesh. They were ominous and menacing, all right, but I was a bit disappointed. They were just more Koreans dressed in Russian uniforms. I have seen fanatical stares just as good over at the Eighth Army Rod & Gun club.

There was a stump there in the Joint Security Area that stood in lonely dignity next to the Bridge of No Return. It won't need trimming anymore. The North Koreans watch stonily from the other side of the bridge. They keep the ballcaps of the two officers who died in a glass case up at Monastery, the little O Club that serves Camp Red Cloud, the forward operating base behind the lines.

I had four beers for lunch and got back on the bus for Seoul, a cozy three minute trip by MiG. The demonstrators are going to have the Bunker in a tizzy tonight; the weather is fair and cool. Ideal rioting season. So I will hit the rack and gird my loins for the night shift follies. The Embassy folks  will come over and visit and tie up the phones.
 
Situation normal. Let me know how the Vic Socotra project is coming along. I miss cranking that rascal out each day. Have a good time at Sea......I remain a hostage to America's presence in Northern Asia,


J.R.