Republic of South Korea 1957-1959

The sharp bow of the long and tall, gray Military Sea Transport ship headed slightly northwest out of the sparkling dark blue waters of the Sea of Japan steering toward the Yellow Sea between Korea and China to the west.  Peering out of the porthole I soon saw the waters take on a drab color, not truly yellow but enough to realize why these waters got their descriptive name.  Except for a short day layover in Okinawa, Japan, the big diesel engines had throbbed below decks day and night crossing seven thousand miles of the broad and heaving North Pacific Ocean from Seattle, Washington.  On leaving Naha, Okinawa a ship’s officer had told us that we were on the last leg of our voyage, seven hundred and seventy-five nautical miles, expecting to land the following mid-morning at Inchon, South Korea. Bob, Tom my cabin mates and I slept well that last night on shipboard anticipating arriving at our final destination and solid land. We had eaten our last breakfast on board when the loudspeaker announced that we were in the Korea Straits and would soon be approaching the coastal city of Inchon, nearly half way up the west coast of the Korean peninsula. We three had thoroughly enjoyed the long sea voyage but were each anxious to finally start the jobs we were hired to perform in Seoul.  As the ship slowed we noticed the myriad of roiling whirlpool eddies alongside the ship, in the otherwise smooth waters of the Straits of Korea. The day before we had passed the northwest coast of Japan, unseen in the distance. Even though it was a bright sunny day, on deck we shivered in the brisk northwest wind that ruffled the waters of the Sea of Japan in a blue and silvery glint.  Not so this morning as we noticed the yellowish seawater and some flotsam appearing to be floating forward, ahead of the ship as it moved into the Yellow Sea. Bob who was on leave from his teaching job in Seoul, had once landed at Inchon.  He told Tom and I that the turgid water movement in this region was caused by very high tidal flow waters racing into the enormous bay between the coastlines of China and Korea.  Bob advised us that conversely, the tidal waters would at ebb tide rapidly rush out of that wide bay into the Straits and the Sea of Japan, as one of the most voluminous and active tidal flows in the world.

The ship’s diesel engines had been slowed as we approached the coastal city of Inchon at high tide. Our ship would of necessity soon anchor some distance off shore. Bob said that before the war in the Pacific there had been large tidal gates that would be closed thus trapping the high tidal waters in an inner pool, necessitating that incoming large and deep draft ships stay at anchor in the artificial bay while the ebbing tidal flow on the other side of the gates ran rapidly outward through the Straits of Korea toward the Sea of Japan and the Pacific Ocean.  Ships would await the return of the high water and upon the opening of the gates would move outward to the deep sea.  The tidal gates were destroyed during the Korean War, therefore the need for our deep-draft ship to stay out in the deep channel – and to rapidly off-load its cargo and passengers before the high tidal waters receded.

The loud rattle of the ship’s heavy steel anchors and their splash into the water signaled the start of a considerable, but organized on-board activity. The Officer in Charge of debarkation told us that we three gentlemen would precede the other passengers and be the first off-loaded into the ship’s motor launch to proceed to the harbor dock at Inchon.

He urged us to hurry.  He told Tom and me that the metal trunks brought on board before our Seattle departure would be delivered to our final destination, the United States Army Far East District Corps of Engineers compound on Ulchi Ro in Seoul.  Bob’s would be sent on to the Eighth Army base at Won san, another new Korean name strange to my ears.  I could not imagine where the District office was located, what kind of a place it would be where I was to be stationed? I would soon find out.

We carried only our hand baggage that held the clothes we wore on ship. We had been blessed with the last of the many ship’s courtesies enjoyed when two days earlier, our soiled laundry had been collected, washed and pressed, as in the past by hands unseen.  So, all dressed up in our dress jacket, slacks, white shirts and ties we stepped carefully into the ships launch for the short trip to the Inchon pier. We landed at what appeared to be a recently repaired dock at Inchon harbor.  We noted a number of nondescript buildings somewhat battle damaged but took no further and particular note of them.  Bob said that the city of Inchon is just half way up the west coast of Korea and only about thirty miles from the 38^th Parallel and the demilitarized zone with North Korea on the upper end of the long wide peninsula that encompasses North and South Korea.