MASH: An Army Surgeon in Korea

9. Rotating Out

Twelve months in Korea-and my rotation date-rolled around; this time there were no letters asking me to stay, no offers of a regular army commission. This time only a sheet of paper ordering me to return to the United States for duty at the U.S. Army Hospital, Fort Monroe, Virginia . When the final day drew near, I began to pack my bags and make arrangements to ship my goods back to the United States. At the MASH the custom was to paint a large sign in honor ofthe departing comrades. I was rotating out with three other doctors and four nurses. We had the obligatory going-away party, and we said our good-byes to people who had become very close friends over that short period. I had talked to Choi several times about the possibilities of coming to America, and he had expressed interest each time. But he was always reserved about the prospect. I made up my mind that it was the least I could do. The morning I left MASH 8076, a jeep came to my tent to carry my duffel bags the short distance to the helicopter landing zone. Choi and I loaded my duffel bags into the back of the jeep, and before I got in, I turned to Choi and said, "When I get back to the States, I'll send for you:' He smiled and squinted. I shook his hand. We had taught him to shake with a firm grip like a westerner. Our hands clasped firmly. Then we hugged, and I hugged him like a little brother for a long time. 'Tm serious:' I said. "When I get home, I'll send for you to come to the United States." He paused and he smiled no longer. He looked into my eyes and said, "It'll never hopp'n, Cop'n:' Little did I realize that Choi knew more about Americans than I did. He-and the Korean people-had heard our promises before. When I returned to the United States, I began to ask about bringing a Korean national to the state of Ohio. I ran into the brick wall of the federal bureaucracy . All my efforts were to no avail. I remember Choi's words as if .0. HASH Choi (in white shirt) at the 8076th. he had said them yesterday. He knew better than I did that it would never happen. Ed Ziegler gave me a lift by helicopter down to Chunchon to catch an L19 into Pusan. It was a bittersweet trip. From the air, Korea is a beautiful country. I said good-bye to Ed and hoped that I would see him again. We had become very close in the past months. Ed had several more months to serve before he returned to the States. From Pusan I went to Sasebo and then boarded the 55 William Weigel, a transport ship bound for San Francisco. There were many soldiers on board. Some were being medically evacuated to the United States, others rotating out and going home. There was not an air of great excitement on the ship as you might expect among soldiers bound for home. It was a rather somber atmosphere. We had a long way to go. and we knew that we were leaving many behind . It was a long trip but a trip that begged contemplation. Standing on the deck and watching the sun set on the endless sea. I was ready to go home and wanted to go home. But Korea had left its mark on me. a ROTATlN(; n UT 205 Debarkation point at Pusan on the way home. sense ofgreat sadness and grief, and I was not quite able to comprehend the depth of that. The stopover in Hawaii was briefand uneventful. There were no hula girls, no leis, no tours to see exquisite waterfalls. There were only wounded soldiers standing and hobbling around the deck of the ship. The rest of us ventured on shore, browsed in the souvenir shops, and returned early to the ship in hopes that we might hasten its departure. The announcement of our approach to San Francisco sent us scrambling to the decks to view the Golden Gate Bridge. As we looked to the cast, we saw only a misty gray shroud over the city. We stood silently on the deck for a long time and watched from the distance...