After being reassigned to the 227th Maintenance Battalion at Yongsan, Seoul, Korea, to take command of the 305th Supply and Services Company. I also unfortunately endured some harrowing experiences while traveling to and from remote sites along the Western Corridor of Korea and in the 2nd Infantry Division area near Dongducheon. The company had invariably assigned several more temporary drivers to me all of whose driving skills were questionable at best. I remember one specific driver that didn’t even make it out of the company area without colliding with another vehicle. We had barely driven away from the orderly room, and we had gone approximately 15 or 20 yard yards, when the accident occurred. The road wasn’t a problem because it was plenty wide enough. And speed wasn’t a problem because the posted speed limit was only five miles per hour. The glaringly obvious problem was the driver. As soon as that accident occurred, I walked up to the orderly room and insisted that the First Sergeant and the incumbent Company Commander find a new driver for the day. Since speed wasn’t a factor in the accident, the vehicles weren’t damaged all that much beyond some minor paint scraping. But still. Who in the hell collides with another vehicle on a wide ass road in a five mile per hour speed zone on a bright sunny day? Answer: one seriously unskilled, dumbass, can’t drive, got their license out of a box of crackerjacks, sorry ass sonofabitch. Yeah. No thank you. I did not want that sorry sonofabitch driving me anywhere in Korea in congested traffic. Oh, hell no. That driver’s replacement wasn’t much better. The second driver stood all of about four foot eight inches tall and needed to sit on a pillow with the seat all the way forward in order to touch the gas pedal and the brake and to see over the steering wheel at the same time. That was one time that I seriously prayed for seatbelts in a military vehicle. Unfortunately, military vehicles didn’t have seatbelts. But I must say that I did escape that day unharmed at the end of the day. Another day, the gods of transportation were smiling down on me because I was rewarded handsomely. This female driver got into the vehicle and started driving. Within 20 minutes, I was catching a quick nap in traffic. The driver actually had to wake me when we got to our destination. I asked about her background and learned that she was in the transportation platoon and that she drove the five ton tractors towing 40-foot trailers. When we got back to the company headquarters, I asked if I could have her as my permanent driver, but I was shot down because virtually every leader in her chain of command said she was too valuable to her platoon’s mission. Okay. I could live with that. However, what I couldn’t live with was putting my life into the hands of some bozo that had no driving skill whatsoever. I told the First Sergeant and the incumbent Company Commander that they had to find somebody with at least some kind of driving skill that wouldn’t try to get me killed every time we went out on the road. And I wanted a driver that could get me out of the goddamn company parking lot without causing an accident. I didn’t think that was too much of an ask. I still had to go up to the remote sites along the Western Corridor and in the 2nd Infantry Division area near Dongducheon to do some mop up on the inventories to wrap everything up. As a result, I would still need the services of a decent driver. The next driver that was assigned to me, ultimately became my permanent driver. The first day that he drove for me, Private First Class (PFC) Harmon established a good rapport with me. He started the conversation by asking where I was from and the kinds of things I liked and that sort of thing. He also asked if it was true that I was married to a Korean. I thought that was a rather odd question. I replied, “Yes, I am married to a Korean. Why do you ask?” He replied, “Well, you see, Sir, basically, my platoon leader and the Company Commander and even the First Sergeant, to a certain extent, are giving me shit because I want to marry a Korean.” “What? That’s goddamn bullshit. Who you marry and who you love for that matter is your own goddamn business, as long as it doesn’t interfere with Army business.” “Hey, Sir, I have another question. Is it okay if I bring a boombox and some music to listen to tomorrow, while we drive?” “Okay. So, here’s the thing about that. You cannot let anybody see you put that shit into the vehicle. And you gotta keep it out of sight until we get off of the compound and outside of the gate of Yongsan. We can play it while we’re out on the road. But as soon as we get to our destination, we have to shut that shit down and hide it again. Cuz the rules say no music in a military vehicle. Are you cool with that?” “Yes sir. I’ll take care of it, Sir.” The next day, PFC Harmon and I took off for Camp Casey. As soon as we were out on the road, he told me where to find the boombox under my seat. It already had a cassette tape loaded. So, I started it. I didn’t recognize the band, but the music was awesome. It was some heavy metal that I had never heard before. I asked him, “Who in the hell is the band? He told me, “Sir, that right there is Metallica.” “Metallica!?! I have never heard of them. They are totally awesome.” “I know. They kick ass. I have their first three albums.” And that very moment, I thought to myself that I had to get PFC Harmon assigned as my permanent driver. Of course, he would need my indoctrination, but I thought that we could work minor details like that out. But that is another story. After I wrapped up the change of command inventories, I sat down with the supply Sergeant to make sure that all property losses were either accounted for via statements of charges or reports of survey. Once those accountability actions were complete, I ensured that all hand receipts were brought up to date and signed by the hand receipt holders. All that remained after that was the change of command ceremony. But that is another story as well. I was pleased that I had finished all of the change of command inventories and that I had escaped with only one minor accident. Well, actually, it was two minor accidents, if you count the one where the driver hit a Korean taxi driver and broke his mirror. That one actually cost me money because the sorry sonofabitch driver wouldn’t say he was sorry for breaking the mirror on the Korean taxi driver’s car. A simple apology could have saved me some serious cash. Okay. I guess looking back on events, I had experienced several exercises in futility, but everything ended on a positive note because I had found my Kato.
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