CH34 : Money

"It's still far from finished. Pour in more sand, hammer it down harder."

Bang. Bang. Thud. Thud.

The foundation ground work was in full swing.

They drove pipe-shaped steel pipe piles into the ground, dug out the soil, poured sand into the piles, and then hammered them down with a pile driver.

The banging sound gradually changed to a dull thud as the hammer struck the sand.

"Boss, I think it's done."

"That's right. When you hear this sound, the sand pile is complete."

"I'll remember that."

Not only my father but all the employees were listening to my instructions, learning, and growing in real-time.

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers explained the significance and precise process of the work.

Our employees, with their unique passion and pride to live well, absorbed the field knowledge like sponges.

"Okay, now bring in the bulldozers. When we cover these sand piles with a thick layer of sand, the water will drain out, and the weak ground will solidify."

The land here, like much of Vietnam, had weak soil beneath the sandy beaches, turning to red clay.

It was no different from walking in mud, making it unsuitable for building or roads.

Such land required driving piles to drain the water and replace the mud with sand to create a solid ground where dump trucks could speed along.

"Yes, boss. Everyone, let's go."

My father led the team as they rushed off.

Once the bulldozer team pushed the sand and leveled the ground, today's work would be complete.

'Making this kind of money for such work, $20,000... The Americans sure are rich.'

Even just foundation work brought in $30,000 a week. After paying the employees, I still had $12,000 left.

Even after paying the employees $300 each, equivalent to 80,000 won, money was piling up.

Everything the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers pointed to turned into money.

"Hey, CS! Let's talk."

As I wiped my sweat with a sense of satisfaction, I heard someone calling me from somewhere.

It was Sergeant Mark from the engineering company.

The Americans, including him, called me CS.

They found the pronunciation of Chansu difficult and disliked that 'Soo' in Chansu sounded like 'sue' in English, which meant lawsuit.

"What's up, Mark?"

"Let's have a beer first. You're off duty now, right?"

Mark tossed me a can of beer.

Just like Mark said, my official workday was over.

Now, it was time for the second round with the U.S. soldiers.

It was like overtime for me, and in terms of cost-effectiveness, it was much more profitable than my regular work.

"Ah, the beer is especially refreshing today."

Despite coming to Vietnam for war, the U.S. soldiers brought large refrigerators filled with beer.

As I enjoyed the beer, I feigned a tired expression. The U.S. soldiers were always anxious when I did that.

"CS, don't avoid my gaze. I need to know why the construction of the 8th Platoon barracks is delayed today. The soldiers are causing a ruckus, saying there's discrimination between platoons. The previous platoons are enjoying air conditioning, while some can't even sleep because of mosquitoes, let alone air conditioning."

"What can I do? We need containers to build the barracks."

"What do you mean? There are plenty of containers. I checked, and there are over 20 in the yard."

"They're all filled with goods. Containers are originally for storing goods, not for living quarters. Honestly, the soldiers have taken so many that our employees are crammed ten to a container."

"Then just empty the containers. The soldiers' quarters should be prioritized over storage. What's in them anyway? I'll arrange everything to be stored in the yard."

Finally, my patience paid off.

The Americans never failed to meet my expectations.

"What else? All construction materials like rebar, H-beams, and cement. We can't just leave them in the yard. They would all rust and harden due to moisture."

"Come on, that's not a big problem. We'll build a proper storage facility for them. With a foundation and insulated walls to keep out moisture, so we can store heavy materials like cement and H-beams."

"Who doesn't know that? I'm part of the engineering company! Build it as you need. I'll get everything from Saigon, insulation and piles included. CS, you can build a storage facility in your sleep."

"Well, if the engineering company gives the order and provides the materials, I can do it... But there might be some issues with the regulations. We are supposed to subcontract port-related construction to BR Corporation."

We came here as subcontractors for BR Corporation.

In principle, anything related to port construction had to be managed and supervised by BR Corporation.

There was a potential problem if we considered the storage facility part of the port construction.

"We don't care about that. Are we supposed to wait forever for BR Corporation to move? The engineering company will give the order and supervise. CS, just do as we say."

Yes! Finally, I got the contract.

Sergeant Mark was right; all this delay was because BR Corporation was intentionally stalling.

The BR engineers knew full well that if they came with the advance party, they would have to endure mosquito bites and build barracks from scratch.

So, BR Corporation intended to come in leisurely after we did all the hard work.

We had to exploit BR Corporation's idleness for maximum profit.

"Are you giving the order directly?"

"Of course. The engineering company will write the report and issue the construction order, so don't worry. Just think about emptying the containers and making the barracks."

The first step is always difficult, but it becomes a habit with practice. Once they skip BR Corporation and assign the storage construction to us, they'll likely give us more projects.

"That makes emptying the containers easy."

"Great. Start right away tomorrow."

"The storage facility requires foundation work, insulated walls, and dehumidifiers, so we'll need full manpower for about two weeks. The estimate is around $80,000."

"Got it. Give me the estimate quickly. I'll get it approved at the camp right away. Just build it as fast as possible."

"Trust me, speed is our specialty. And the barracks are still full option, right? $4,000 per unit."

"Add one more bathroom and shower per unit. They've waited long enough; they deserve something better."

"Then it's $5,000."

"Okay! It's a deal. Here's something for your trouble."

Sergeant Mark unloaded a few boxes of A-rations and beer from the jeep.

A-rations were fresh rations, frozen for the soldiers, a cut above the canned C-rations of ground meat and beans.

"A-rations! And ribs, no less. Thanks, Mark."

Even in the 21st century, beef ribs were expensive and hard to come by.

Indeed, America in the 1960s was incredibly wealthy.

They might lose some money due to the Vietnam War, but I'll take a piece of that pie.

"These are bribes from the soldiers of the 8th Platoon who desperately want their quarters built. Don't ignore their plea."

"Okay! I'll stay up all night to get it done."

Excited, I not only earned money but also received delicious ribs.

Moreover, by contracting the storage facility directly, skipping BR Corporation, all the construction funds would be ours without any deductions.

"Everyone, tonight's side dish is meat."

"Woohoo!"

I gathered the nearby employees.

"We also secured an $80,000 contract for a large storage facility."

"Woohoo!"

"We're rich!"

"We're rich!"

"Let's skip overtime tonight. Beer party!"

"Party time!"

When I carried the box of ribs to the quarters, the employees preparing dinner were thrilled.

"A man in a yellow shirt~"

An employee from the national orchestra, feeling ecstatic, started singing while drumming on a barrel, and a few others joined in with harmonicas.

Such talented and lively people.

"The silent man in the yellow shirt~"

"For some reason, I like it~ Somehow, I like it!!"

"Hey, hey!"

A spontaneous campfire started, and 250 employees sang in unison.

My father, having finished his work, joined me, arm in arm, singing along.

To share such an experience with my father as a colleague...

For a moment, I could forget that this place was a battlefield.

**

Two weeks later.

Time flew by without a moment to breathe.

This place, once a mud pit and dense jungle, began to take the shape of a logistical base.

The feeling of sending over $150,000 in accumulated earnings via the communication line to Saigon was indescribable.

But more importantly, something else had happened.

Instead of receiving work through the engineering company, Colonel Godell began calling me directly.

No matter how spoon-fed someone had to be, seeing the progress of work made them realize that this place was a land of opportunity.

Knock. Knock.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door of the command center.

"Come in."

"Yes, Colonel Godell."

The command center where Colonel Godell stayed was past a security post.

It was a three-story building made of tightly packed H-beams and 40-foot containers.

Although a makeshift structure with iron staircases attached to containers, as a 21st-century construction worker, I had designed it to the best of my ability, and it looked impressive even to me.

The second floor had an additional metal plate added to create a veranda, making it almost luxurious for a temporary building.

"Want a smoke?"

"No, thank you."

Godell got up from his desk and headed to the veranda.

The veranda, decorated with densely planted palm trees for shade, had a large parasol spread out.

It was the perfect place to enjoy a cigar.

The cold air from the air conditioner scattered all around due to the slowly rotating ceiling fan, making it refreshingly cool.

Despite being state funds, they ran the air conditioner with the door open. Wasn't the cost of generator fuel a concern?

During the Vietnam War, they used air conditioners for dehumidification in the officers' club in Saigon and enjoyed whiskey by the fireplace... It didn't seem like a lie.

"Have a cool drink."

"Yes, Colonel."

Godell pointed to the refrigerator with a familiar nod, and I made a refreshing drink with just tonic water and ice cubes.

Since I was on duty, I didn't add whiskey and enjoyed the slightly bitter tonic water.

It might taste bad, but there was a reason Godell drank tonic water regularly.

Tonic water contained quinine, an ingredient used to treat malaria, and it was believed that drinking it often would prevent mosquito bites and malaria.

"How is the construction of the third warehouse and the guard post going?"

He asked about the progress of the construction.

That's why he had called me.

"It will be completed by tonight."

"Already?"

Even though I wasn't a soldier, I had set up the guard posts.

The troops under Colonel Godell's command were primarily an advance party for the logistics base, with only a few combat soldiers, mostly engineers and supply soldiers.

Due to the composition of the troops, the work was continuous.

Starting with the command center and barracks, followed by storage facilities and various food storage facilities, they even asked me to build guard posts with containers.

Fortification was a crucial operation for the U.S. soldiers, so there was no budget limit for it.

Honestly, I wanted to take on the fence construction around the camp, but the engineers insisted on doing it themselves, making it difficult to subcontract.

It felt like my money, and it was a pity.

I needed to keep the U.S. soldiers occupied longer.

We could have done it better.

They were unnecessarily diligent.

"We worked hard on the emergency local procurement."

Emergency local procurement was under the authority of the camp commander and required only post-reporting.

In other words, Colonel Godell was essentially a king here in Quyen. The king who threw money around.

"Good job, the soldiers' performance will improve."

"Not only their performance but also it will put pressure on the Viet Cong. Their strategy is to sneak into field trenches and throw grenades, but they won't dare to approach the guard posts at Quyen Camp."

"You speak like a military instructor."

"I'm just repeating what the non-commissioned officers said. I'll write the report soon. A non-commissioned officer will submit it for approval."

"Good! Good. Submit the report right away."

Godell smiled contentedly at my words.

Once I wrote the report, it would immediately transform into an operational report for the logistics base and be reported to headquarters.

Godell had reaped considerable benefits by reporting that he had quickly set up the logistics base using shipping containers.

He probably received the highest performance rating among the advance party commanders of the logistics base.

Colonel, Colonel,

Give me a promotion, I'll give you money.

"Colonel, I have a question."

"A question? What is it? Speak up."

I rejoiced inwardly.

They were giving me small amounts now, but soon it would be a flood of money, like Aladdin's lamp.

To do that, I needed to elevate Godell's rank even further.

He was simpler than he looked, making him easy to handle.

"When is BR Corporation coming? They need to arrive for the full-scale port construction to begin."

I was merely a subcontractor for BR Corporation.

In principle, a construction supervisor from the mainland United States had to be dispatched for us to proceed with the work.

"They said it would take at least a month to ship the dredgers and various equipment."

Blaming the equipment? That sounded plausible.

"A whole month?"

I pretended to be surprised, but it was as expected.

"BR Corporation didn't anticipate you clearing the area this quickly."

It meant we had an additional month of leeway.

BR Corporation had assumed it would take us at least two months to set up initially.

From Godell's perspective, my capabilities must have seemed somewhat unexpected.

"A whole month of idle time... Colonel, is there any way you can give us more work?"

"Tell me what you need. I'll help you with it."

It was always like this.

On the surface, it looked like I was begging for work, and Godell reluctantly agreed.

The more work I did, the more outstanding Godell's leadership seemed.

The logistics base's general operations were quite different.

Once dubbed as a commander with creative strategies, one couldn't stop this.

Before BR Corporation arrived, I had to extract as much money as possible from non-port projects.

Among the various options, this was the best.

Though unpaved, we had created a solid ground for dump trucks to pass, making it worth starting.

"In my opinion..."