"Bennion!" "Yes First Sergeant?" Everything was an emergency, reports done five hours early created the same sense of urgency as reports done three days late. "Where's my unit roster? What do you do all day? Get your head out of your ass and tell me how many men we have now, or are you too busy?" "I'm on it Top." "You better be or you ass will be in a sling, goddammit." Being humiliated, browbeaten, and berated wasn't so bad. Relaxing in one's bunk or playing ping pong and being summoned by Top at all hours on a Friday, Saturday, or Sunday night was the oppressive part. That is why the men escaped on a Saturday afternoon when the escaping was good.
"So, what's up?" Bennion asked Jim and Chuck at a table in the mess hall (aptly named). Jim was tall, goofy, and homesick for his wife and kids. Chuck was balding, short, and had explored every temptation repeatedly without moral reserve. "We're going to Itaewon, right?" Chuck demanded. "Better get out of here before Top finds you" "Let's go, I'll sign us out." Itaewon was only 22 miles south, in the center of Seoul, but was a bitch to get to. Wearing civies and carrying just enough money to get into trouble, the three waited for the civilian bus to take them to a transfer and another winding journey between the ricefields to a city with ten million people. Total round trip by bus would only be a dollar each. "Hey guys, where you going?" asked Steve, the youngest member of group, now a foursome. Steve was mature for his nineteen years and had a great attitude. "Itaewon" replied the company clerk, Bennion. In the army half the men are known only by last names and half by nicknames.
Bennion could read Korean and could find a bus to take them exactly where they wanted to go, and this bus dropped them at the very start of the two mile long night club strip. It took a while to mill past all the shops with knockoff Nike shoes, leather jackets, jewelry, and kitchy souvenirs. They would need to turn right on a very steep hill stuffed with nightclubs, bars, restaurants, prostitutes, and dance clubs. To save money and catch the cheapest alcohol buzz they would need to turn left on another incline, a dirtier and smellier and even less respectable stretch of clubs and prostitutes. "There's the Kettle House!" Bennion announced, seeing the bilingual sign which implied that only GI's and Koreans would dare to enter. The place easily sat twelve but was not limited to allowing twenty or more. One could eat any number of Ramen noodles but it wasn't time for noodles. Every drink was made with So-ju, the Korean rice liquor which could be made palatable in the form of "Jungle Juice" with liquid yogurt, punch, and Seven-up. "Two kettles, please" asked Chuck. "Two dollah" was the choppy response. "Are you sure we don't need three or four?" Asked Steve, who could drink with the best of them. Plastic cups filled with two additional kettles, real kettles like one used to make tea, and the foursome were loudly on the brink of being asked to leave.
Strange how a shitload of alcohol can either turn one sickeningly chummy or frighteningly belligerent. "Let's go in here" said Chuck, rushing to the next and the next and the next club. No opportunity to harrass customers would be missed and this was the place to do it. People came to expect sloppy drunks to come down the hill from the Kettle House and ignored the GI's. "You're my best friend, JR" "I know, I know" James calmly tolerated Bennion's overacting. He had always had the ability to drink a fourth the liquor and remained fatherly and responsible. Stumbling past the clubs on the cross-street they had intended to visit with the popular clubs, they wandered into a bustling shopping area with real shops selling barbecued dog-meat. Discovering that they had ventured too far, the youngest advised the rest "Hey, man, we've gone too far! C'mon baldy, back up the hill!" "Fuck you, asshole" and Chuck took a feeble swing at Steve who laughed it off and teased him more. "Higher, you short dick... higher... Ha ha ha." "Breeeeeak it up, breeeeak it up, dammit" JR directed, seperating the two. "Look at the kitty!" said Bennion. A tiny kitten was mercilessly tied up in the front of a shop of obscure purpose. Bennion stooped to pet it and pour all sorts of sympathy, wanting to buy it and set it free. The four-foot aji-ma, or lady, gave a quizzical and dissaproving stare. Koreans didn't keep pets, they ate them. Sometimes dogs were kept for fighting and entertainment but were still eaten at the end of their usefulness. Bennion looked around dizzily for the other three. "Oh shit, I'm lost again in this place and I'll never find those shit-heads." Struggling thru the crowd to find them took an eternity of bumping into short Koreans. Nobody was offended though, Koreans are very tactile and haven't discovered personal space yet. "There you are, are you done making love to that cat?" asked Steve. "Gawd, Stinky, why did you guys leave me like that?" "You're getting too old to keep up with us, Radar." "Shit, I hate that name." Bennion did not want any associations with emasculated fictional company clerks. "Ha ha ha.. Radar!" joined Baldy. Radar wanted to say "fuck you" but knew he could not duck the punches like Stinky could and he decided to walk with his best friend JR. JR already had a plastic bag full of souvenirs for his kids. "Let's get rid of these guys, huh?" "Don't worry about them Bennion, relax." "Maybe we should just go to a resaurant." Bennion longed for the 'normal' life back in the states. Libraries, coffee houses, harrassing waitresses and joking at Denny's, even American TV was sorely missed. "Hey you two love-birds... are you two going to get married or what?" Stinky joked.
Turning the corner to the clutch of their favorites, they saw the MTV club, a place where only Americans would go, a place where pirated copies of MTV videos were requested and played and replayed. Among the favorites was "For Those About to Rock (we salute you)." The music was dubbed on to clips of M1 Abrams tanks rolling over battlefield terrain. Shots of bombers and fighter/attack planes were flashed to rounds of "Hoo-ah" and "Ugh," the the battle cries for countless combat units. "Don't buy anything but cokes" Baldy reminded everyone. Drink prices were ridiculously high and he spiked each glass with a secret flask of whiskey. Bennion sputtered on the unmixed concoction. "What a pussy!" Stinky barked. "Goddammit, Radar, can't you drink like a man, you faggot." Baldy added. JR hardly touched his drink, remaining the most sober, but nobody noticed. Again, on the verge of being tossed out, the foursome 'decided' to leave.
The next bar scene was even worse. Boston club was decorated with the musical group Boston's logo and album artwork and catered to perhaps the lowest class of GI's. Everything about the place irritated Bennion: all they served was Korean beer for a ridiculous price, American Budweiser, also called "RB" or real bud for an even worse price, and the music was intolerable to him. "Why aren't you drinking?" demanded baldy. "I don't drink beer" Bennion weakly admitted, already suffering a sour stomache from the whiskey. "Goddam! What is wrong with you? Are you going gay on us, you broke-dick?" "I just can't stand the stuff." "Here, I'll buy you one and you'll drink it like a fucking american." "No thanks." "Another four beers over here!" Bennion felt sick. "I gotta go drain the lizard. Be right back." Not only was this bar the most obnoxious and military-oriented, it also held the distinction of having the dirtiest, smelliest, and most nauseating bathroom in the world. Bennion had to throw up, pee, and crap all at once. The Koreans had neglected to intall a western-style toilet and opted for the 'bombadier' hole in the floor. Shit was on the floor, the wall, and even on the ceiling. There wasn't even paper for you-know-what. He centered himself over the oval hole careful not to touch a single thing. A brain-free soldier in an unbuttoned Hawaiian-print shirt burst in falling on his hands and knees on the piss-wet floor and unloaded his guts in preperation for another round. Bennion recognized his t-shirt which advertised an artillery group which was close to his own camp. He stepped past the comrade to the sink and determined that the risk of infection outweighed the benefits of attempting to wash and quickly walked out.
"What the fuck happened to you? Did you find a boyfriend in the bathroom?" Stinky asked. "Here's your beer. Drink it." Baldy demanded, and the three of them watched as Bennion drank it in one bad-tasting gulp. "Let's go to the "Heavy Metal club!" Baldy insisted, which was located in a six-storied building which housed a variety of clubs and restaurants in a more respectable atmosphere. It was 4:00 am and the place was dead. Bennion suggested that they hang out at the Twilight Zone where they could sleep at a booth indefinitely if they kept a little food in front of them. JR ordered a small yakemandu, Stinky and Baldy had lots of money left and ordered large dishes, and Bennion, who had barely more than bus fare left, ordered the ninety cent ramen noodles. Baldy became increasingly agitated at Bennion's indifference to enjoying drinking and planned to set him straight. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You think you're too good to drink with us? I ought to kick your ass right now, you fucking pussy." "Why don't you just keep your little macho drunk act private, ok?" "No. I want to know. Why do you think you're better than everybody else? Just because you're fucking Radar doesn't make you God and I'm not afraid to fucking fuck you up." "Alright you girls, c'mon, kiss and make up and stop your little love spat" laughed Stinky. JR tried to calm things "Yeah, enough's enough, Chucky, we're on the same side, he's not the enemy." "No! I want to know why he has to be so different. I'm sick of him. I want to see you drink like a man." "If you can't calm down, I'm just going to go back by myself." "Aw, did I hurt your fucking feelings?" Bennion knew that it was the alcohol talking. He also knew that he could act stand-offish and might have deserved or provoked distrustful reactions among the other GI's. "I'm leaving. That's it. I don't need this." JR once again tried to calm things "Aw c'mon Bennion, sit down." "No, let the baby go. Fuck him."
Bennion started walking. He had not thought things out and there were no buses until 8:00 am the next day. What was he going to do for three and a half hours? He walked back to the end of the strip and decided to walk to Yong-san, the main post for the 8th Army, the hq for all the american forces. Flashing his ID to the main gate guard, he walked on to the darkened post. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do. He remembered the activities center and searched for it in the dark. The main entrance had huge columns which provided some cover and he sat down, leaned on the cold cement and tried to nap. Nothing seemed to work, his head swimming from the residual liquor, and he became restless. "Maybe I'll just walk around for three hours. There was a bike near a undetermined building and he began to wonder if he could borrow it, should he get caught, swift punishment would surely follow. The line of reasoning did not work and he found that it was quite easy to slip the bike out of its loose, locked chain. He thought he might as well ride around, maybe back to Itaewon, and he left post. Twenty miles back to camp in the dark was out of the question and he was sure he could think of something else less athletic. Riding up and down the strip made it seem much smaller but no less unfriendly, and he could not find any friends to borrow money for a cab-ride home. Stopping for a moment, he considered selling the bike which happened to be a Raleigh and could easily bring sixty dollars. A cab driver was sitting near him waiting for the next GI and he poked his head in the window "Hey, you wanna buy a bike?" "Bike? No." "I'll give you a really good deal. It's worth a hundred bucks but I'll sell it for fifty." This sparked some interest and the driver stepped out to give a good look. "Where you going?" "Camp Stanton." "Camp-a Stan-ton? I know where that is, I go there... you give me bike." "But it's worth at least fifty!" The normal price for a cab ride that far was $20 to $25 and Bennion soon gave in. The Korean wrestled with the bike, trying to squeeze it into the impossibly small car, leaving the wheel hanging out. "Ok, we go now." The drive home was pleasant and the driver tuned the radio to an almost familiar rock station, in Korean of course. Waking Bennion gently he said "Ok, we here now, ok?" It had been the only cab ride Bennion had ever 'paid' for and it was much more comfortable and restful than the bus.
After brushing his teeth and changing clothes, still groggy from the evening, Bennion began headed for the mess hall. Outside the barracks he was surprized to see Steve and JR "Hey, when did you guys get back? And where's Chuck?" "After you left we looked for you but couldn't find you so we split a cab fare home. Chuck wouldn't leave. I guess he took a cab too." JR answered. "Yeah, he was pissed at you!" Stinky added, letting out a huge beer-fart, the reason he had acquired that nickname. The three walked together, waited in line for shit-on-a-shingle, and omelettes-to-order, a Sunday special. As they queasily ate and talked, Chuck came in, smiling, and said "There you are. Man, I looked all over for you." "I, uh, walked around for a while." "Where the hell did you go?" Not wanting to reveal a character flaw by admitting the theft, he replied "I don't know. I just slept on the street and then shared a cab home." "You won't believe what happened to me... After walking around looking for you I just gave up and got in a cab. I must have passed out in the back seat, all curled up. When the driver finally woke me I asked him why he didn't earlier and he said I looked too peaceful and just let me sleep while he picked up other passengers." Bennion pictured him in a fetal position with his thumb in his mouth, almost feeling sorry for him, and asked "Well, how did you finally get home?" "The driver woke me at six and I looked out the window and saw I was in Itaewon. I thought I had just dozed off for a minute and told him to take me to Camp Stanton. He laughed and said he had driven by here twice already during my sleep." "Man is that weird." Bennion began to think how ridiculous the situation was and he knew he couldn't stay angry at friends, and friends were about the only thing one could count on besides the constant yelling of the 1SG. JR patiently waited for the story's end and asked "So, like, what are we going to do tonight?" Bennion didn't strain any brain muscles and replied confidently "Let's have a party in our room and get drunk!" "Yeah, all we need is some soju and punch" "And Jack Daniels" "and we're already there." To Bennion and JR, somehow, it all made sense.