My Adventure in South Korea

The U.S. Army’s woodland battle dress uniform (BDU) was the official uniform for Soldiers until the mid-2000s. The BDU served as a financial windfall for the tailors who sewed on patches, producers of spray starch that helped the uniform looked crisp, and the boot shiners who made your boots look like mirrors on your feet. Making one’s combat uniform and boots look immaculate was a time-consuming process. Thankfully, as a young officer stationed in South Korea, I had the opportunity to meet and pay Mr. Kim a $50 monthly fee to press my uniform and polish my boots. Mr. Kim provided this service to all the young Lieutenants who lived in the famous “Dragon Valley” on Camp Casey. Mr. Kim had been providing this service for so long that he would tell us when he knew Generals when they were Lieutenants. However, this story is not about Mr. Kim’s superb ability to press uniforms and polish boots; instead, this story is about his superpower related to Korea’s most famous alcoholic drink: Soju.

I arrived in South Korea around May 2001, and like all new arrivals, I had to stay at the famous “Turtle Farm,” a small military camp across the street from Camp Casey. Both the “Turtle Farm” and Camp Casey are located in the Korean city of Dongducheon, which is about 40 miles north of the capital city of Seoul. New arrivals were required to stay at the “Turtle Farm” for three days, where they did all the administrative requirements and received their gear. Fortunately for me, I was pulled from the “Turtle Farm” early to attend a regimental ball held for the two tank battalions representing the 72nd Regiment. To celebrate this event, the Canadian Princess Patricia’s Light Infantry were invited to attend, and they came prepared with bottles of Canadian Whisky. That night, the guest of honor was the 2nd Infantry Division Commander, none other than the famous ‘Ragin Cajun” Major General Russel L. Honoré. General Honoré would later become famous for his “Don’t get stuck on stupid” comment during a press interview during the post-Hurricane Katrina operation in New Orleans.

My memories of the regimental ball are underwhelming since there was far less drinking than I expected, and even our Canadian guest informed us they were expecting more. The night did not end after the ball, but it only began when I went to the bar district in Dongducheon. I went to the bar named “Cheers” with the same name as the famous tv show about a bar in Boston. At “Cheers,” my fellow Lieutenants ordered my first shot of Soju, known as the “Turtle Shot.” For those unfamiliar with Soju, it has no discernible smell or flavor and is one of those alcoholic drinks that play mind tricks on you. A popular way to drink Soju was mixing it in a mug of ice-cold Kool-Aid known as a “Soju Kettle.” When someone drinks lots of Soju while sitting, they feel like the alcohol is not having much of an effect on their sobriety; however, as soon as they stand up and attempt to walk, all hell breaks loose. I learned firsthand with several friends one night trying to rapidly drink several “Soju Kettles” before returning to Camp Casey ahead of the mandatory curfew. It was a comedic scene of several individuals who could barely walk straight, trying to help each other walk back to our base.

My experience with Soju meant that Mr. Kim would become a legend in my eyes. Mr. Kim and I had a good relationship. Besides Soju, Mr. Kim enjoyed alcohol he could not purchase, such as whisky, bourbon, etc. Occasionally, Mr. Kim would ask me to buy him a whisky bottle from the base store in exchange for the monthly $50 fee. To me, that was a fair trade. One day, I came to realize why the volume in my bottle of Southern Comfort kept decreasing in my room. On a Saturday morning, Mr. Kim came into my room with my uniforms while I watched tv. Without saying a word, Mr. Kim went to the spot where my Southern Comfort was located and poured himself a glass. Mr. Kim did not ask, and I would not object because it was in my best interests to keep Mr. Kim happy so that my uniforms and boots looked sharp.

One day, Mr. Kim invited all the Lieutenants he served to have dinner with him at a friend’s restaurant in town. My fellow Lieutenants and I eagerly accepted his invitation and met Mr. Kim at his friend’s restaurant that night. The restaurant was small, and the only other patrons were local Koreans. We sat around the table and allowed Mr. Kim to order all the food and drinks. While we waited for the food, Mr. Kim ordered several rounds of OB (Oriental Brewery) Beer, the beer made in South Korea. When the food arrived, we shared the delicious food variety provided while drinking more OB beer. After we finished eating, Mr. Kim ordered a round of Soju to toast the evening. Mr. Kim poured everyone a shot and kept the half-filled bottle to himself. We made our toast and drank the Soju. Of course, Mr. Kim was in a good mood, so he ordered another round and then five more rounds for a total of seven. Each time we drank our shot of Soju, he finished half a bottle.

Finally, we were done with shots and attempted to leave. The Soju had caught up to us, and even one of my friends became sick in the restaurant. We were embarrassed, but the local Koreans were amused and laughed at the group of Americans as we struggled to stand up and walk out of the restaurant. As we left the restaurant, we were amazed by Mr. Kim. He clearly drank more than all of the collective group combined, and without a hint of drunkenness, Mr. Kim calmly got on his bicycle and rode home. Early the following day, Mr. Kim was back at work pressing our uniforms and polishing our boots while my fellow Lieutenants and I were recovering from our experience with Soju. After that night, I was convinced that Mr. Kim had superpowers. I could not believe someone could drink that much and appear sober as though he had been drinking water and not alcohol.

I departed South Korea in 2003, and between 2005 to 2007, the U.S. Army replaced the BDU with the atrocious Army Combat Uniform (ACU). The ACU and the tan boots meant that Soldiers did not need to press and starch their uniforms and no longer needed to polish their boots to mirror perfection. The change in uniforms and departure of most Soldiers from Camp Casey would have altered Mr. Kim’s business model or would have been forced to retire. I am sure that Soldiers assigned to South Korea will have their own unique experiences and stories to share about Soju. Still, none will have known the legendary Mr. Kim and had the pleasure of seeing an old Korean man drink a group of Lieutenants under the table.