CH44 - Surplus Material

"It was my land."

"If you're the owner, bring the land deed."

Somehow, I ended up being the person distributing the rice paddies. With the Tiger Division's camp receiving support for setting up their base, I found myself handling civil affairs.

The commendation for pacifying the Quy Nhon area was being shared between Colonel Godell and the Tiger Division.

"Who needs a land deed? All these people are witnesses. They've been farming this land for generations."

"Is this true?"

"..."

When I asked the villagers if the landlord's claim was true, no one stepped forward.

They just stared coldly.

It seemed the landlord hadn't won the people's favour.

He was someone who needed to be driven out.

"Get lost, you bastard. Who do you think you're trying to scam here?"

I shoved him hard.

"No! This is my land! Why won't anyone speak up? How have you all survived until now without me?"

"Lieutenant, please help."

"Soldiers! Arrest this man! Now!"

"Received orders."

"No! I'm the owner! I... I... ugh!"

The Tiger Division soldiers grabbed the landlord by the scruff of his neck and threw him out of the barracks.

Then the villagers began beating him with sticks. They must have had a lot of pent-up anger.

Vietnam was truly chaotic.

"Next!"

"I've always been a farmer here. This interpreter can vouch for me."

"This man is indeed a native here. I even gave him two chickens as a wedding gift."

The middle-aged man acting as the interpreter vouched for him. The villagers showed no particular emotion. At least he wasn't a Viet Cong.

"Go to field number 23. Here is your land certificate."

"Thank you. So, how much is the tenant fee?"

"Tenant fee? There's no such thing. Report any strange people you see. Sign the receipt."

"Thank you. Thank you."

"Sign the land transfer receipt properly. If you don't write your name clearly, you'll lose the land."

They would sign with their real names to prove ownership, which would also serve as their ID.

"Yes! Yes! Of course."

Humans are strongest when defending what's theirs.

If any Viet Cong or troublemakers showed up, this man would rush to the camp in no time.

"Next!"

"I... I..."

"Hey, you're not from our village. Why are you here?"

The interpreter pushed away the man who had come forward.

A man from another village was eyeing our village's land, which was intolerable.

"No, it's not that. I came here as the village chief to make a request to the Korean."

"A request?"

Judging by the conversation, it seemed like a good opportunity.

I cheered inwardly.

"Why did the chief of another village come here?"

"Please organize our village too. I heard that if the Koreans step in, they can clear the forest and create rice paddies in a day."

"It's a difficult task. This is a military operation executed by the Tiger Division stationed here."

"Can't the Tiger Division be stationed in our village too? We have similar hills. If you create rice paddies, we will bring you fresh vegetables every day. Soldiers need to eat too, right?"

Oh, he was even proposing a deal.

He must have a different mindset since he was a young village chief.

"Mark it on the map. I'll propose it when the Tiger Division arrives."

"Thank you. Thank you."

The other village chief drew a circle on the map with a pen. Jackpot! It was a village surrounded by forest.

What if I could turn that forest into rice paddies?

When I looked at the surrounding forest, it was all mahogany.

The highest-quality wood, prized for furniture due to its luxurious red hue.

I was set to scoop up a fortune.

It would easily be worth millions of dollars.

My heart pounded.

"Please help our village too. You often go to the distant stony mountains, but our village has a stony mountain too. Take as much as you want, and make rice paddies for us."

"We came first. We'll even give you vegetables and eggs. We'll also give you 10% of our harvest."

Hands shot up from all directions.

Seeing the success of the neighbouring village chief, others began proposing deals. Okay, this was a virtuous cycle.

They said they would give me stones and gravel from the stony mountains.

We were being praised for openly logging and extracting aggregate.

"I'll let you know after coordinating with the Tiger Division. Sign the petition before you leave."

Suppressing my pounding heart, I handed over the petition.

It was a petition asking the residents to request the reclamation of the forest around their village into rice paddies.

"Yes. Yes! Of course."

This was win-win.

You guys weren't interested in timber and aggregates, and I wasn't interested in Vietnamese real estate.

*******

One month later,

"Stop!"

"Commence firing!"

"Commence firing!"

When Major Yoon ordered the firing to commence, the lead jeep opened fire with a machine gun, sweeping 180 degrees ahead.

It was to threaten any Viet Cong who might be hiding in the jungle.

Although there was likely no one in the jungle ahead, the Tiger Division soldiers didn't spare their bullets.

We were expanding the pacification area with a military operation, after all.

Both the Quy Nhon Camp and the Korean military command in Vietnam were full of praise for this operation.

"No issues. Proceed. Proceed!"

"Mr. Jin Dalrae, drive. Quickly!"

"Yes!"

The Tiger Division soldiers escorting our truck signalled for us to move forward, and we pressed the accelerator.

Barely emerging from the jungle, we entered the makeshift paved access road.

"Phew..."

It was only 20 kilometres to and from the Quy Nhon Camp for logging and aggregate extraction, but it felt like my lifespan was shortening each time.

Still, seeing the convoy of dump trucks following us made my heart swell with pride.

Half were loaded with logged timber, and the other half carried large stones and gravel for port construction.

Most of the trips were problem-free, but occasionally we saw Viet Cong fleeing under the threat of the Tiger Division's gunfire, and there were numerous traps made with sharp stakes.

They were simple traps that could be run over with a jeep or dump truck before someone stepped on them, but the fear of stray bullets drained people's blood.

Despite the Tiger Division distributing rice paddies to villagers and pushing out the Viet Cong, it was still like this. Without such measures, movement would have been impossible.

"CS is coming. Open the gate!"

"Open the gate!"

Entering Quy Nhon Camp, the US soldiers opened the barricades, and the Tiger Division soldiers returned to their positions once our dump trucks were inside.

"Phew, another day safely completed. Good job, Mr. Woo."

My father sighed in relief as he got out of the truck.

It was a relief that he had overcome his trauma and started driving.

"It's the end of our hardships, Mr. Jin Dalrae. We won't need to go out as often now."

"What do you mean? There's still a lot of aggregates to transport."

"We've done enough profitable logging, and the stones we've transported so far should be sufficient."

We had transported aggregates several times a day for a month straight.

This amount of aggregates was enough for the port construction.

At least by 21st-century standards.

My construction technology was several times more efficient than '60s technology.

"Mr. Woo, shouldn't we continue transporting aggregates, even if it's a bit dangerous? BR Corp's guys follow procedures to the letter."

"Haha, worried about running out of aggregates? Don't worry. This amount is enough."

"That's not it. Since we're here... we should make money..."

"Haha, Mr. Jin Dalrae, don't worry. I'll make you earn several times more than transporting aggregates."

We weren't a construction company but played a role as a manpower supply service.

Just doing simple labour like transporting stones wouldn't make big money.

BR Corp was in charge of designing, constructing, and supervising the Quy Nhon port construction, so we needed to take over some of the construction to increase our earnings per unit of time.

Of course, BR Corp also had to see a benefit for the deal to work.

"Earn several times more?"

My father was astonished.

He couldn't help it.

We were paying our employees over $300 in monthly wages, more than 80,000 won.

Considering the income from logging and other container construction, each person was earning at least 100,000 won.

That was as much as a decent doctor earned back home.

"Don't you remember how profitable it was to build container accommodations for the US soldiers? Just following BR Corp's instructions won't bring extra income."

"Extra income?"

"Gather the employees and divide them into teams. We'll start three shifts from now on. Also, sort out employees who can work night shifts and overtime."

No one would refuse overtime, but they needed to volunteer.

"You mean additional allowances?"

"Of course. Have I ever made them work more without paying?"

We had earned tens of thousands of dollars making various buildings out of containers. Employees who had tasted that money wouldn't forget it.

"Never!"

"Let them know that allowances will be based on progress, not time."

"Sure, they'll understand what you mean."

I needed sleep, so I couldn't supervise the progress 24/7.

So I divided the work into three shifts and paid them based on the work done each shift.

They called it "yarikiri," a Japanese term. It meant each team was assigned a day's work and worked without regard to time.

Skilled workers could finish an 8-hour job in 5 hours and take on another 3-hour job for extra pay.

"Start after lunch. Have a cigarette and rest at the B area yard."

"Yes, boss."

The employees would eat quickly and wait in the yard.

I gave better-paying jobs to proactive people.

Some worked so hard that I had to forcibly take work away from them to prevent overexertion.

******

"Hey! Silver!"

I went to find Silverstein, the BR Corp site supervisor.

Silver was inspecting the makeshift breakwater. Looking at that wouldn't give answers, buddy.

"CS, I told you not to call me that."

Since my father and the employees safely returned, he had regained some confidence.

He seemed to frown because he got more compensation for not reporting to the headquarters.

No matter what, he still looked like a rookie to me.

He was the top at the site, overseeing even supervision, but I taught him far more.

In a few months, he would be calling me "Master." Cute.

"Why? Should I call you Mr. Silverstein instead of Silver?"

"You'll get hurt if you keep that up."

Calling him Silverstein outright annoyed him.

He didn't want to reveal his Jewish surname.

Close friends called him by his nickname, and subcontractors like me had to call him Mr. or Sir.

But I knew.

He had climbed to site supervisor but wasn't well-recognized by BR Corp headquarters.

As you know, being assigned to a Vietnam site was not a good position for an American.

The prestigious positions were in the safe mainland, receiving reports and exporting military supplies.

"Don't frown. I've got a good proposal."

"A proposal? Get back to work. Why are the dump trucks idle? Go have lunch and haul some more stones. I'll request cooperation from the Tiger Division."

"Those stones are enough."

"Enough? Are you joking? The port we're building needs to dock 200,000-ton ships. It's not a tiny Korean fishing port."

This guy was fully confident.

Being bullied in America for being Jewish and now looking down on Korea?

Human rights and anti-discrimination talk were all just lip service. You needed the power to be respected.

That's why both individuals and nations needed to make money.

"If you keep this up, I'll strike and ask for a new supervisor. Don't you know I mean what I say?"

"CS! You really..."

"Hey, listen. Brother."

I put my arm around Silver's shoulder and led him behind the container building.

Listen carefully. In the future, you'll boast about the conversations we had here.

"Brother?"

"Just listen. What if I could build this port for half the original cost?"

Silver glared at me, but when I smirked and nudged my forehead against his, he flinched.

He had been bullied back in the mainland, so he'd cower if I pressed hard.

"Half the cost? What nonsense?"

"If you don't understand, just imagine. If we build the port for half the cost, where does the remaining material and construction money go?"

"Are you crazy? Don't you know how serious shoddy construction is? This is a US military logistics base. You could be charged with treason."

Silver freaked out, imagining something.

"Shoddy construction? Why would you think that? I'll build a port much stronger and more efficient than the original plan for half the cost."

"Half the cost, but stronger? You expect me to believe that?"

"Why can't you? I built air-conditioned container accommodations and refrigerated storage, cleared the forest around Quy Nhon in a month, and turned it into rice paddies. Do you think I'm bluffing?"

"... Seriously, can you do it for half?"

Silver's eyes changed.

Half the cost, but I didn't say I'd do it for half.

"Of course, not for free. Help us acquire surplus materials. And double our daily wages."

"I can manage that if you really cut the cost by half."

Finally, he was speaking sensibly.

True to his Jewish heritage, he had a keen sense for money.

"Shouldn't we draft a contract?"

"Of course."

I handed over a contract I had prepared in my spare time.

My new side income was acquiring US military surplus materials.

The US military's principle was to sell surplus materials to civilian companies.

They pre-ordered ample construction materials to ensure no supply issues during wartime.

Naturally, the US military purchased an excessive amount of materials for construction, as any failure in military supplies during wartime was unacceptable.

Even discarding the scraps, they had surplus materials. If I completed the construction at half the cost, how much surplus would there be?

If I acquired that at a low price, I'd be making a fortune.

Corrupt Vietnamese officials made huge money by embezzling US military surplus.

I wasn't doing anything dishonest. I was creating a surplus with legitimate skills.