Time as a Second Lieutenant and First Lieutenant in the Army (1966-1969)
In 1966, I was commissioned as an Army Second Lieutenant, marking the beginning of a new chapter in my life. After graduation, I went to my hometown to greet relatives, friends, and acquaintances. After a two-week leave, I entered the Basic Military Course at the Infantry School under the Army Combat Training Command, located between Gwangju and Songjeon-ri.
At that time, the Korean Army mimicked the U.S. Army’s education and training system for officer development. After commissioning, there was about 4 months of basic military training. At the rank of Captain, there was about 4 months of advanced military training on equipment operation, tactics, staff duties, and leadership needed for regiment-level and below. Upon promotion to Major, officers received education on strategy and tactics necessary for corps-level and above senior commanders and staff at the Army College for one year. At the Colonel rank, a limited number of officers entered the National Defense University for a year to study national defense policies and inter-governmental cooperation, with many advancing to become generals.
Army Infantry School Basic Military Course (1966)
(1) Saturday, April 16, 1966: It’s windy. Being a soldier is a noble profession. In life, a soldier who decides victory or defeat while facing life and death must have a bold, powerful, and vibrant existence. Even if it’s not an element of beauty, it’s an honest, upright, and exhilarating life. There’s no need to debate the premise of creating great art by risking one’s life. Finding meaning in life depends on each individual and is evaluated according to their own value standards. I consider being a soldier a noble profession. The more hardships and trials I face, the stronger my belief in and value of being a soldier becomes. The more trials surround me, the more I must discipline my body and mind. (The rest is omitted)
(2) Sunday, May 8, 1966: The weather was clear. My beloved younger brother Hwi-yeol died in an accident while receiving driver training at the 1st Corps Driver Training Unit in Gapyeong. We took his remains to the Hongje-dong crematorium. This is what they mean by the futility of life. Although I felt heartbreaking pain and sorrow, beyond the physical phenomenon of my brother burning in the furnace, wasn’t he already drifting away from the spiritual realm? Unable to bear being at the wretched crematorium, I drove out. (Middle part omitted) We put his cremated ashes in a box, packaged it, left the crematorium, and came to the Toegyewon Memorial. This is how a short human life ended. It must all be God’s will, but it’s so pitiful. Who could have predicted that such a lively and energetic person would disappear so suddenly? (The latter part is omitted)
(3) Sunday, May 29, 1966: The weather cleared after rain. It’s been over a week since we came to the guerrilla training ground, and the training continues even on weekends. (Middle part omitted) Our life in the guerrilla unit is very tough, but it’s monotonous because there’s no mental burden. It’s all about eating, training, and resting. However, the greatest benefit for me is becoming close to nature. I gained the leisure to look down on the dusty human world haughtily from mountain peaks, to set my heart’s rhythm to the sound of water flowing between rocks, and to lie on the twilight grass imagining past times while listening to cricket sounds. From nature’s perspective, all the complicated human affairs are nothing but dust and debris.
(4) Saturday, July 30, 1966: The weather was clear. Today is the day we complete the Basic Military Course. My OBC grade was below the class average with a C grade (79.8). When I inquired about the reason, I was told that due to my absence during my brother’s death, I couldn’t take some tests which were marked as zero. As a result, I lost 10 points in the total average score combining practical tests and regular exams. It was unavoidable.
Taekwondo Instructor at the Republic of Korea Forces Vietnam Command (1968-1969)
I became a Taekwondo black belt during my cadet years, and our division competed as a Taekwondo division with four subordinate units. As a Taekwondo guidance officer, I instructed Taekwondo training at the battalion level while preparing for division competitions, and I also consistently practiced myself. The Army Headquarters selected about 60 Taekwondo black belts and began collective training for six months from July 1967, to dispatch a Taekwondo instructor team to Vietnam.
As a first-round dispatch instructor, I boarded a U.S. transport ship in Busan and arrived in Nha Trang, Vietnam on December 12 of the same year. I then flew to report to the Taekwondo Unit of the Vietnam Command in Saigon. I was assigned to the Vietnamese Army’s 1st Corps Headquarters in Da Nang, where I taught Taekwondo to the Vietnamese military with support from the U.S. Military Advisory Group.
The Vietnamese Army’s 1st Corps Headquarters organized classes by selecting an appropriate number of non-commissioned officers from subordinate combat divisions. They trained daily in the morning and afternoon, periodically rotating trainees. I was provided with accommodation and meals at the hotel where the U.S. advisory group stayed, and the Vietnamese Army provided me with a Jeep.
Since the U.S. Marine Corps Headquarters was stationed in Da Nang, I began personally instructing Taekwondo at night to U.S. soldiers who wanted to learn. One evening, a U.S. Marine boxer came to the gym, swinging fast punches and challenging me as the instructor. I handed him paper and a pen, asking him to write and sign that if he died in the duel, it would be entirely the challenger’s responsibility and the instructor would bear no responsibility. I even had him get a witness. He hesitated for a moment and then quietly disappeared outside the gym. At that time, I had been training consistently for several years, so if he had continued to challenge me, it probably would have been an intense battle.
Later, I was transferred to the Vietnamese Army Non-Commissioned Officer School in Nha Trang, where I taught Taekwondo for about half a year before returning to Korea in June 1969. Sometimes, while living in the United States, I’ve wondered where the students I taught then are now.
Other Recollections from Second Lieutenant-First Lieutenant Period
(1) Monday, April 17, 1967: Clear weather. To my beloved: Today, intoxicated with the happiness of loving you, I’m closing my eyes gently under the sun, captivated by visions of the future. (Middle part omitted) When I meet you, I’m simply happy even without any conversation. The moment I see you, all miscellaneous thoughts are forgotten, and my heart feels warmth in your love. Yet, expressing dissatisfaction and having love quarrels seems to be an even greater love. I still feel your unique body temperature, and your silhouette dominates my soul. (Latter part omitted)
(2) Wednesday, May 3, 1967: Clear weather. My beloved J came to visit the unit for the first time with a friend. I was very glad and satisfied. We had lunch together at the BOQ, went to the CAP platoon to enjoy the scenery, and shared our loving hearts at the hill. We went out to Gwangtan and took photos together for the first time before they left. Now, I’m only filled with loving feelings, but there’s a rough journey ahead of me that I must take, and I can’t promise anything, which is frustrating. Soon, the Taekwondo instructor team’s intensive training will start at Army Headquarters, and in December, I’ll depart for Vietnam, not knowing when I’ll return.
(3) Friday, May 12, 1967: Clear weather. J’s letter made me sad. What parent would allow their daughter to continue a relationship with a soldier heading to the battlefield in Vietnam? Reflecting on myself coldly, I’m not in a position to choose a spouse now. I should live freely for the next 2-3 years, and if it’s fate to meet someone again, I can start anew then. Today, I made a bold decision and sent her a letter saying, “Parting ways is a wise decision for both of us.” I loved her, but now I must break free from the game of love.
(4) Friday, December 8, 1967: Cloudy weather. (Beginning omitted) Today is the second day of our voyage to Vietnam, passing through the South China Sea. Rather than enjoying the voyage, I’m focused on managing my nausea due to the rolling of the ship. I’ve also chatted with the crew members to build friendships. (Middle part omitted) My heart, which was calm until departure, now can’t contain its excitement as it merges with the feeling of this huge ship overcoming waves on the endless, dark blue surface of the vast ocean. I just want to let go. I want to open my narrow chest fully and become familiar with the waves of great nature. Even the small duties on board keep me busy.
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KMA Cadet Period
