When I was stationed in Korea at the 5th Preventive Medicine Unit, I earned such a good reputation working in the motor pool that the first sergeant convinced the commander to keep me for two years. During that initial two-year assignment, I volunteered for several extra duties. One of those extra duties was serving as the unit calibration coordinator. The calibration coordinator ensures that the calibration certification of all of the electronic test measurement equipment is kept up-to-date. When electronic test measurement equipment is due for calibration, the calibration coordinator collects the equipment and transports it to the calibration facility for calibration certification. I liked performing that duty because on a hot humid summer day in Korea I could go to a calibration facility and hang out. The calibration facilities were all clean, environmentally sealed, and air-conditioned. They were cool. And when I say they were cool; they were cool as in cold. You could literally feel the temperature change when you walk through the door of the calibration facility. I got to know the soldiers working at the calibration facility pretty well. I talked with them every time I went over there. And I asked them lots of questions. You have to understand, when recruiters don’t educate you about the possibilities and you don’t know what’s available to you, it is very easy for a young recruit to be misled. When I got sent to Fort Benning and got shuffled off to the infantry because I refused to attend the airborne school, I felt that the Army had closed some doors on me. I’m not sure if that was intentional. But that’s the way I felt. Anyway, when I discovered this calibration thing, I wanted to know more. I asked, “do you guys know how to use all of the equipment in this building?” The calibrator I was talking with responded, “Yes. We attend school for almost a year to learn how to use all of the test equipment here.” “Almost a year? Where’s the school?” “Yes, almost a year. And that’s just for the basic course. If you are an honor student you can request to attend the advanced courses and stay even longer. The school is at Lowry Air Force Base, Colorado.” “How long do the advanced courses last?” “There are three courses. It depends on which one you take. If you take all three, you could be at Lowry Air Force Base for an additional six months.” “Wow! So, the entire school is basically a year and a half long. Awesome. Where is Lowry Air Force Base in Colorado?” “That’s the best part. It’s in Denver. Right in Denver. It’s great. You’re right in the city.” “Wow! That would be great. Is there anything else I should know?” “Well, the school does give you college credit through the Community College of the Air Force. So, there’s that if you need the college credit to make rank.” During my trips to and from the calibration facility or other driving duties, I always used to drive around to all of the unit’s outlying sites in places such as Camp Red Cloud in Uijeongbu, Camp Humphreys in Pyeongtaek, Camp Long in Wonju, and Camp Page in Chuncheon. The one I went to most often was Camp Red Cloud. Every time that I went to Uijeongbu, I took a different route back to Yongsan in Seoul. I usually took the company motor officer who was also a doctor and an entomologist. When it came to Seoul and its traffic patterns, the motor officer wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. I usually took alternating routes because I wanted to see different sites in the city. But I also liked to have fun with the motor officer at the same time. He would not usually pay attention to the road. He would usually bury his face into paperwork and read. An occasional loud horn or sudden braking of the vehicle would divert his attention from the reading back to the road. When he would look up, he would look around as if he were lost and confused. Then, he would usually ask, “Sergeant Masters, do you know where we’re at? This does not look familiar to me.” I would usually reply, “No sir. I thought you knew where we were at. After I turned back there a ways, I really don’t know where we’re at anymore.” “Are you serious right now?” “Yes sir.” “You better stop and get directions.” “Do you know Korean, Sir?” “No. Do you?” “A little, I guess. I’ll give it a shot.” Invariably, I would do as the motor officer requested and stopped the vehicle. Then, I would get out and walk over to a traffic officer and I would strike up a conversation. I would tell him that I really wasn’t lost but that my companion was and that I was just playing a joke on him and to play along with me. I would tell him to just nod and shake his head a few times and point in a few different directions and say something. It didn’t even have to be anything important. Just so he said something. Then I would walk back to the vehicle and get in. And when the inevitable question came, my answer would usually be the same, “Yeah. Talking to that cop was pretty much like talking to a wall. He doesn’t have a clue where Yongsan is. He told me to go in three different directions. So, I’ll just go…” And I would start pointing at the various options for the streets that I could turn onto. After a minute or two the motor officer would look at me and say, “What are you doing?” “I’m trying to pick a direction to turn by process of elimination.” “What?!? That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Just start driving.” “Oh. All right then. Do you know the way?” “No. But that bullshit process of elimination shit isn’t going to get us back either.” “All right then. It’s settled. I’ll just go this way.” And I would take a selected street and proceed. The motor officer would then give me his patented warning, “Sergeant Masters, I’m warning you. If we get lost.” And of course, I always had to jerk his chain, “if we get lost, what? What will happen? The sky will fall. The sun will stop shining. What will happen? You didn’t finish your sentence. Well, are you?” “Am I, what?” “Going to finish your sentence, Sir. I told you. You never finished your sentence.” “What in the hell are you talking about.” “Well if you don’t know, I sure as hell don’t know sir.” Meanwhile, I would turn another corner and we would be in Itaewon-Dong. Then, the motor officer would look at me and say, “Dammit Masters, you did know where we were all along didn’t you?” To which I would reply, “Pretty much sir. Pretty much. Great trip, huh?” “Never a dull moment with you that’s for damn sure.” And that was how I broke up the monotony which could otherwise be construed as exercises in futility.
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