9
AFTER MANY MONTHS, COUNTLESS PATROLS, mind numbing boredom, and not to forget the cold and darkness, I began to wonder what I was doing in Korea. During quiet times on patrol, but especially when in reserve, a hillbilly lament called “Rotation Blues,” written by Lt. Stewart Powell and recorded by the likes of Elton Britt and Bill Monroe, repeated over and over in my mind:
I got the ro-oh-oh-ta-a-tion blu-ues.
I’m a lonely soldier sittin’ in Korea...
I’m a lonely soldier sittin’ in Ko-rea
But rotation’s comin’ so I shouldn’t have no fear.
Just a few more weeks and rotation’s gonna set me free
Just a few more weeks and rotation’s gonna set me free
‘Cause the F.E.C. is too far east fur me.
I’m gonna pack my bags and sail back over the sea
I’m gonna pack my bags and sail back over the sea
‘Cause the A-frames in Korea just don’t look good on me.
Rotation had better hurry up and set me free (I’m buggin’ out)
Rotation had better hurry up and set me free (Section Eight’s gonna get me)
‘Cause the honey pots in Korea done started smellin’ good to me.
Now that rain in Korea sure gets cold and wet
Now that rain in Korea sure gets cold and wet
And the rotation papers sure are hard to get.
(Reprinted by permission of Tannen Music, Inc., all rights reserved)
Lt. Powell’s song captured our thoughts about going home and how difficult life in Korea became. We needed thirty-six points to earn the rotation home. Those of us on the front lines got four points a month, rear lines three points, and further back two points. The whole time I was in Korea I qualified for the four points per month.
My buddy Carlos Coleman’s number for rotation home came up right before my departure to Japan for R&R. This seemed sudden to most of us, but Carlos accumulated something like sixty-four points during his two tours of duty. He had not been home in a year and a half. It was time, so Carlos packed his kit to head for the rear. The platoon would surely miss his contributions—good machine gunners were hard to find.
I would miss Carlos’s cheerful greetings and his rough and ready attitude for any kind of action—whether it was for slipping off into a KSC camp in search of alcohol or for crawling through the night to make contact with the Chinese. He was a reliable volunteer to the end. Some of us wondered if he would have another change of heart when he got back to the rear and decide to sign up for another tour. After all, he did so last time. But, this time he never looked back.
He came by my bunker to say good-bye and I felt like I was losing more than a reliable trench comrade but also an irreplaceable friend. Carlos’s last words to me echoed after his departure:
“Butch, take it easy and don’t take any chances. You’ve gotta get out of this place in one piece! When you get back to the States we’ll meet at the Old Pastime Bar back in Charleston and clean the place out!”
THE DIRECT OPPOSITE OF REST AND RELAXATION
After approximately six months in Korea GIs were automatically eligible for an R&R leave, usually in Japan. The military goal behind R&R for war-weary GIs was to provide a break from combat to enable soldiers to restore their fighting spirit. It evolved from efforts to lessen “shell shock” during World War I and “combat fatigue” in World War II. Today, the Army also uses the term “R&R” to identify “Resilience and Restoration” Centers. While sharing the same acronym, these R&R Centers, like the one at Ft. Hood, Texas, provide outpatient mental health services to active duty personnel. This type of R&R is not a leave for everyone in a combat zone, but is targeted for those suffering from “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder” or other mental health issues similar in nature to “shell shock” or “combat fatigue.”
By the time my rotation for it came up, Rest and Relaxation was a misnomer. The troops, recognizing this, routinely referred to it as I&I (Inter-course and Intoxication) or A&A (Ass and Alcohol). Drinking to excess and military prostitution were the predominant features of many R&R breaks. Unlike my peaceful experiences at my ROK friend Lee’s home village, there was nothing restful about the six days I spent in the Japanese cities of Osaka and Nara. I had been in Korea longer than my close buddies Vito Field and Dale Moss, so my number came up first. I was disappointed about not being able to share this much-anticipated adventure with them. Instead I was the only one from my company on the plane to Japan.
Notably, my R&R break had the exact opposite effect than that intended by the military. Six months on the front, Carlos’s cautions when he left Korea and the glittering experiences of Japanese cities lessened my desire for further military combat. I began to see things very differently, more cautiously. The stark contrast between my enjoyable times in Japan with the reality of the day-to-day existence on the front was a real eye opener. I no longer wanted to be an infantry sergeant. I was a bit quicker on the jump response when incoming rounds whistled overhead. I wanted to live. Duty and three months to go until my rotation was up required me to return to the front lines. If the Army had known how deleterious R&R leaves could be to the combat readiness of soldiers like me, they would have, in all likelihood, discontinued the program immediately.
THE R&R DRILL AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
Before leaving for Japan, I learned the drill from those who had gone before. This information included:
• Bring $300 for expenses. (This money came from saving, borrowing, and lucky wins at poker.)
• What demands would be placed on you? NONE. “Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die!”
• How much alcohol would be consumed? Everything in sight.
• Find a Japanese woman companion for the week.
The last bit of information came from the expectations of my peers—late adolescent men who had been away from family and friends living in a violent and, what I now recognize (but did not then), misogynistic environment. During boot camp we trained with cadence calls on marches that objectified sex as recreational and rough; these offensive cadences are no longer allowed in today’s Army (Lineberry, 2002). For us, they equated military strength with sexual prowess (Butler, 2000): “This is my weapon, this is my gun. One is for shooting, the other’s for fun.” This environment was intolerant of any individual who gave any sign that he might not enjoy an R&R experience like this—recall the corporal’s taunts described in Chapter 8 in the section on Contact Patrols. Alexander (2004) suggested most GIs that chose not to have an “I&I” experience on leave would lie to their buddies that they did on return to the unit.
The only expectation or limitation I recall from the Army about behavior during R&R was to use condoms to prevent sexually transmitted diseases (STDs then referred to as VD). There were the basic training lectures stateside that we interpreted to mean, “Don’t damage government property!” We endured periodic “short arm” inspections in the Army’s attempts to prevent VD. Perhaps my oddest experience in Korea was standing in formation with 5,000 other men, pants down, penis ready for inspection by medical personnel walking through the long files. I also benefitted through observations of one of my buddies who returned to the front lines from R&R with Gonorrhea. No one in earshot of his agonizing moans during the long march to the company rear for treatment would want to follow those footsteps.
I don’t recall any Army briefings about contraception. If it was considered at all, it was thought to be the woman’s sole responsibility. Amerasian children in Japan, Korea, the Philippines, and Vietnam grew up without acknowledgement or support from their American servicemen fathers (Baker, 2004). They also were frequently ostracized, neglected, or abandoned by their mother’s family and culture (Moon, 1997, 1999a).
No mention was made about the rights of the women we would encounter. There was never any suggestion that the women we met (or Japanese society at large) would be troubled by our I&I activities. We were ignorant about the likelihood that overwhelming poverty or violence, rather than free will, forced women into military prostitution. We didn’t think about the recent past—when American soldiers like us were the enemy of these young women. We didn’t consider how our differing racial backgrounds or larger sizes would be unpleasant or even frightening to young Japanese women. We didn’t put two and two together—that some of these young women had lost all their family members to Allied bombing and had nowhere else to go when recruited in 1945 by Japanese police to service the occupying forces (Butler, 2000; Tanaka, 2002).
Professor Tanaka’s (2002) extensive research into U.S., Australian, and Japanese archives revealed little concern for the women engaged in military-controlled prostitution at the time of occupation. Even a chaplains’ report submitted to General MacArthur in 1946, condemning the widespread practice of prostitution in Japan, did not include any mention of violation of women’s rights. Both chaplains and officers in the Public Health and Welfare (PHW) section of the General Headquarters (GHQ) of the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers believed Japanese women, not clean and innocent American soldiers, were the source of the “evil VD.” Chaplains concerned with the moral well being of the troops (and notably not the women)recommend the suppression of military-controlled prostitution. On the other hand, Professor Tanaka found that PHW officers’ reports to GHQ recommended the opposite. Public health officers believed that VD could only be controlled by a system of military-controlled prostitution with rigorous VD exams and treatment of the women working in the sex industry.
When General MacArthur ordered with great fanfare the abolishment of “licensed prostitution” in 1946, it did not shut down a vast and profitable industry of unlicensed prostitutes and “comfort women” in restaurants, eating-and-drinking houses and private houses of prostitution. This is what we saw on our arrival in Japan, about seven years after the so-called abolition of prostitution. It is only years later, through the efforts of scholars, feminists, human rights experts, and the testimony of surviving “comfort women” (e.g., Butler, 2000; Moon, 1999a, 1999b, 2009; Soh, 2008; Tanaka, 2002), that the R&R experiences described below are correctly understood to be sexual exploitation of women on both individual and institutional levels. My buddies and I were regrettably unaware of this at the time.
THE JOURNEY FROM WAR TO CITY
A cramped C-47 flew us from Kimpo Airfield near Seoul across the Sea of Japan to Osaka. This uncomfortable and rough ride was a Godsend for the couple dozen soldiers on it. None of us complained. We were too excited about our leave and what we would find. We came from different units so most of us did not know anyone on the flight. I ended up sitting next to Bill, a sergeant from the Second Division. We decided to stick together during our leave. I don’t remember Bill’s last name, but I recall he was from Michigan, didn’t like college, and dropped out to join the Army. Like me, he had lost his dad when he was little. We got off the plane and boarded a truck to take us to the R&R Center.
As soon as we arrived at the R&R Center we knew we had stepped out of hell and right into the middle of heaven! So distant from the front and so strangely foreign in a positive way that it seemed like a dream for the entire time that I was there. The first stop was clean up. Even though we were in a military facility, the soap in the showers smelled like flowers. I experienced my first shave ever from a barber, who also trimmed my hair. The gracious Japanese barber did a much better job than one of the guys in the platoon using medic’s scissors. After an invigorating massage, I was issued a new khaki dress uniform with my sergeant’s stripes and the other paraphernalia—badges and ribbons—I had earned. I almost didn’t recognize myself!
After getting outfitted, the R&R Center fed us a very uncharacteristic military meal: steaks grilled to order, apple pie, and real ice cream. I drank two chocolate milkshakes—the best tasting thing I had in months. We were clean, well dressed, and well fed. I’d never felt better in my life! There was nothing left for us to do in the R&R Center except leave and begin our five days in Japan. Bill and I walked out into the pleasant evening and the bright city lights of Osaka through a solid metal and wood frame door guarded by a single sentry. This friendly corporal checked our passes and wished us well.
When the door swung open, a sea of beautiful, smiling faces greeted us. Wow! We were dazzled and confused by the pleasant sounds and unremitting attention we received. Bill and I looked at each other and wondered if we had been killed in action and were now arriving in heaven! It felt as though we had been turned loose in a life-size doll factory with animated and stunningly beautiful creatures, some in Western dress, others in traditional Japanese kimonos.
THE DARKER SIDE OF R&R
We were experiencing, without any comprehension on our parts, what is now called the “commodification” and depersonalization of women and their bodies (Baker, 2004; Butler, 2000; Moon, 1997, 1999b; Soh, 2008; Tanaka, 2002). At age nineteen, and just off the front lines, I was blissfully oblivious to this dark side of the life soldiers like me encounter right outside the gates of so many U.S. military establishments around the world. During my short stay in Japan, I did not see any of the violence or other negative consequences (poverty, diseases, infertility, pregnancy, shunning) so common in these women’s lives. Instead, I thought that Bill and I were having a good time with our new Japanese “friends” who were equally enjoying themselves.
This impression about being “friends” coexisted with our instructions from those who had been on R&R before. We were told not to worry about finding a woman companion for the week. All we had to do was walk out the R&R Center gate and we would be flooded with opportunities, as we discovered ourselves. For reasons I’m not sure why, I got multiple instructions not to accept the first fifty invitations made in the first thirty seconds at the R&R gate. The other GIs cautioned us to take our time, for there was no need to rush or expend any effort for the “commodity” was in ample supply.
We knew from our buddies ahead of time the cost for the services of our companion and how the financial transactions would be handled. The $300 we brought to Japan was to be handed over to the young woman selected. She would then handle all the costs for the five days (meals, hotel, transportation, and her fee). Switching escorts (“no changee changee”) was discouraged for both health reasons and to simplify financial transactions.
These young women served many different functions during R&R breaks including tour organizer and interpreter. This made it easier to see them as friends instead of military prostitutes. We assumed any money they “saved” on our expenses went directly to them. We knew nothing of “debt bondage” (Butler, 2000; Moon, 1997, 1999a; Soh, 2008). Many women were kept in prostitution to pay off “liabilities” like exorbitant referral fees to “labor recruiters,” usurious interest rates, kick-backs to the various establishments we frequented, medical care for STDs or pregnancies, or costs of their clothing and other such expenses.
OUR TIME WITH SUMIKO AND YOSHIKO
Bill and I, playing it cool, made our way through the sea of lovely, smiling women and into a nightclub. We decided to have a drink and to look over the scene. The bar was filled with a friendly gathering of GIs and Japanese civilians. In no time, all of our World War II stereotypes about the Japanese people faded. Those we met were not the hostile and inhumane “Japs” depicted in the old war movies I saw at the West End Theater in Charleston.
No sooner had we sat down and ordered a cocktail than two stunningly beautiful Japanese women came to our table. One of them greeted me in a warm friendly manner. “Hello, I’m Sumiko. Would you like to go with us to Nara—the most beautiful city in Japan?”
Bill and I looked at each other, than back at the two women. We were both ready to commit to them The financial hand-off was made expeditiously. Before we knew it, we were on our way to Nara. They took care of us for the rest of our time together. They were efficient tour escorts, navigating our way to the train station and purchasing tickets. We settled into the train ride and got to know each other.
Both women, perhaps as a testament to their survival skills and intellect, spoke enough English to converse with us. Bill was always cracking jokes, and they joined in our laughter. The two women looked to be in their mid-twenties and dressed in Western-style clothing when we first met. Sumiko was from Nara. Because the name of Bill’s escort, like Bill’s last name, has faded from my memory, I will call her “Yoshiko” here. “Yoshiko” was from just outside Hiroshima. She had no scars that I could see, but Bill later told me about the burns over portions of her body. She told Bill that she got them from being near Hiroshima on the day the atomic bomb hit.
Yoshiko was likely in her mid-to-late teens when the atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki right before the end of WW II. Tanaka (2002) provides vivid descriptions of how the police in the Hiroshima prefectural lured almost 500 women there to work in euphemistically called “comfort stations” for the soon to arrive U.S. occupying forces. While some of these women were prostitutes, others were young widows, orphans, or high school students working in munitions factories and living in dormitories. At a time when starvation was rampart, these young girls were guaranteed ample food. However, not surprisingly, almost all the women in the Hiroshima prefecture were extremely reluctant to work in comfort stations for Americans. Tanaka (2002) provides more details about the coercion used during the recruitment process.
I do not know what Sumiko or Yoshiko’s past was like. They unquestionably were of the age and in the environment where these dreadful things routinely happened to young women. During the time we spent with them, they redirected any mention of World War II or their past to other topics. We would talk about the war in Korea, but most of our conversations were about our present activities and upcoming plans for the R&R. They did not share any possible ugly experiences.
As the fast train sped through the evening, we became lost in pleasant conversation. The spell was interrupted, however, when a train, going in the opposite direction, let out a very shrill whistle. “Screeech!” Both Bill and I immediately dived on the floor and covered our heads with our hands protecting ourselves against incoming shells while all of the Japanese commuters watched on, knowingly. After a few moments, we embarrassedly got back on our seats feeling somewhat stupid at our automatic reaction to “hit the dirt.” Sumiko said to me, “Eets ok, GI. You’re safe here in Japan. Don’t worry any more.” We rode silently for a while. Bill finally said to me, “You think we’ll ever be normal again?” I replied, “I hope so. I hope so.”
After a relatively short ride, we were completely away from the shadow of war. This was where we wanted to be. We stayed at a quaint Japanese hotel where we met a few guys from other outfits on R&R leave. There were four or five of us that hung around together.
Once a day we were taken to the community baths. At first we were taken aback by the public nudity. The Japanese baths were community events, open to all. We found old men and women, little children, whole families taking baths together. After awhile, we adapted to the nudity. However, Americans do not know what hot water is until they experience a Japanese bath. It seemed to us that the Japanese bathed in water Americans usually reserve for boiling lobsters. We all experienced these hot tubs as sheer misery and were happy when they ended.
We only had one uniform to last us for the five days, so each night all of our clothing was religiously taken away and cleaned, pressed, and made ready for the next day. In the hotels, all of us lived in kimonos. One evening Bill and I decided to look around town a bit, so we left the hotel dressed only in our slightly undersized kimonos. We became immediately lost in the confusion of the lights and signs (only in Japanese, of course). We wandered around somewhat conspicuously since we were a good two feet taller than everyone else. Fairly quickly, Sumiko and Yoshiko located us to our great relief. We were put in tow and mildly scolded for our escape into the night. Incidents like this made us feel like they were taking good care of us.
Indeed, we felt well treated, if not spoiled, by all we encountered. People at the hotel and in the streets appeared tolerant of the American soldiers in their midst. I remember joking with Bill that our biggest problem seemed to be dodging umbrellas when the rain came. We were so much taller than the fast walking Japanese that it was like being in a sea of black moving circles below our line of sight.
Alcohol was in abundant supply. Thanks to the Army and their Sergeant’s Clubs, it was unbelievably cheap. We only had to spend $2 or $3 at “Nickel Night” to get so intoxicated that we blacked out. Unlike the Army’s concerns about preventing VD, there were no attempts to prevent the negative consequences associated with excessive alcohol use by young men ages eighteen to twenty-four (e.g., violence, alcohol poisoning, development of addiction, etc.).
Like cigarettes, we saw the abundance and low cost of alcohol as a right we earned. I exercised that right at Nickel Night at the Sergeant’s Club—I have no recollection of actually leaving the premises. I have some vague memory of our walking, stumbling, crawling, laughing, and barfing our way back to our hotel, with the assistance of Sumiko and Yoshiko. They always gave the appearance of joining in and enjoying our alcoholic revelries, but they were always ready to take care of us when we drank to excess.
Sumiko and Yoshiko tried to teach us something of their ways. They took us everywhere in two rickshaws. Particularly favorite places were the beautiful parks in Nara. We enjoyed walking among tame deer in one park and seeing the many ancient and picturesque temples in others. At one point during our visit our friends took us to a traditional Bunraku theater production. Bunraku is a high level of stage art using life-size puppets that has strong historical ties to Osaka.
Before we left the hotel for the theater, I recall filling our stomachs with Sukiyaki and drinking lots of booze. Several other GIs staying at the hotel joined us. I think we were the only Americans in the audience. About halfway through the performance we got restless. This form of entertainment did not provide enough action for a bunch of rough and tumble combat veterans; after all, “boys will be boys.” At least that’s how we characterized our behavior at the time. We were aware of embarrassing our Japanese escorts, but we were ignorant about how highly offensive and disruptive our behavior was in such a cultivated setting. We did not experience negative consequences for our behavior, but did Sumiko and Yoshiko? If so, it was hidden from us.
LEAVING R&R
Sumiko and Yoshiko accompanied us back to the R&R Center in Osaka, where we learned of the most marvelous SNAFU ever. Our flight back to Korea was delayed for a day! Even though our arrangements with Sumiko and Yoshiko were for a five, not six day break, they appeared as gleeful as we were. But, at that point, we were penniless, having turned over our funds to them at the start of the leave. They did not abandon us even though we could not give them additional funds for this extra day. Instead, they took us to a hotel in Osaka, accompanied us to dinner, and continued celebrating with us, as friends would do.
The next day it was over. All the pleasant parks, letting tame deer eat from our hands, even the steaming hot baths became fond memories too quickly. The departure back to the war zone was difficult. Upon our return to the Army compound in Osaka, we were back in the hands of the military. Once inside, the Army knew what was needed—they took away our temporary khaki uniforms, issued us new fatigues and lined us up for breakfast before loading us on the C-47 transport to go back across the Sea of Japan to Kimpo Air Base in Korea. Most of us were still pretty drunk as we passed through the chow line for breakfast, which to us seemed like we were condemned men having our last meal before execution.
As I wandered through the chow line, I requested one of the bowls of apricots that I saw lined up in front of one of the cooks. He looked at me in a puzzled way and balked at my request. I became more insistent about getting the apricots and my friend, behind me in the line, began to tell the cook in a loud voice to give me what I wanted. The cook was uncooperative at first, but eventually handed me the bowl. After we got the rest of our food and sat down, I discovered that the “apricots” were actually uncooked eggs. Being a bit embarrassed, I tried to make the best of it and simply stirred up the eggs with salt and pepper and downed them as though I knew what I was doing all along. Admittedly, with my foggy mind, I was not ready to go back to combat.
THE DUAL WORLDS OF R&R
This is one of the most difficult chapters I had to write for this book. An early version of the material in this chapter was limited to my descriptions of the excitement and fun I experienced as a nineteen-year-old on a much-needed R&R leave from combat. It was similar to descriptions others, like Alexander (2004, p. 396), have written:
Generally, Japanese girls and young women were not prostitutes in the traditional sense; rather they were working women who were attracted to the excitement and comparative high life that a man on R&R could offer.
My research for this chapter revealed a very different world for the young women caught up with military prostitution. I considered dropping any mention of I&I from the book, as others have done in their discussions about the Korean War. However, I concluded that would be dishonest and not in keeping with my goal of providing an honest accounting of my wartime experiences. Unlike some of the other chapters, I relied more heavily on writings by others to present the other side of military prostitution.
I hope that this chapter provides a more balanced description of R&R in Japan at the time of the Korean War. It is a legacy of the U.S. Armed Forces that went on for many years after the Korean War ended, even continuing today. However, the U.S. government—in a much-needed reversal—now recognizes military prostitution as a type of “human trafficking” and a form of modern-day slavery (Department of Defense, 2010). According to the DoD, human trafficking (prostitution is one form of trafficking) is tied with the illegal arms trade as the second largest criminal industry in the world. It is now DoD policy to oppose prostitution and other forms of forced labor. Even in cases where prostitution may be legal in a host nation, prostitution and patronizing a prostitute are in violation of chapter 47 of The Uniform Code of Military Justice and part IV of the Manual for Courts-Martial 2008. There is a command-wide program of “zero tolerance” to stop prostitution and human tracking in the United States Forces in Korea (Inspector General, 2006) that is being used as a model program in DoD law enforcement training programs (see Department of Defense, 2009).
This chapter demonstrates how much military prostitution was ingrained in the U.S. Armed Forces from the highest levels to the grunts like me. It will not go away easily. Fortunately, current efforts appear comprehensive. Laws have been changed, training of soldiers is ongoing, and law enforcement has better tools (Department of Defense, 2009, 2010; Inspector General, 2006).
The world we thought we were sharing with Sumiko and Yoshiko was an illusion. Had I known how destructive this system was to countless women, I would not have participated. I can’t believe that any of my other close buddies would have either. I’m hoping that the comprehensive “zero tolerance” program being implemented by DoD will help today’s soldiers see this previously hidden underworld of military prostitution and keep them from participating.
RETURN TO THE HELL OF WAR
On the plane ride back to Kimpo Airfield the crew chief from the Air Force told us that, based on the latest news reports about the prisoner exchange, the war was probably going to be over before our plane landed in Korea. The rumors had it that the Chinese had finally had their fill of the war and were in agreement to go along with the prisoner exchange plan that had been discussed for about two years. Even this news, however, did little to buoy the morale of the half sober, half dejected troops heading back to Korea. Some of us chose to sleep; others passed out. No one on the plane wanted to return.
Not long after I returned from R&R in early April, we received word of some important developments in the peace talks. There was actually some exchange of prisoners in a program that was referred to as “Little Switch.” However, the cooperation was short lived and the Chinese launched a major offensive. Our Battalion was on the front lines, which resulted in the death and maiming of a large number of our troops—my buddies.