My Jejudo Story

(Retired Chief Warrant Officer 4 Sun “Sunny” Park is a community readiness consultant at the Osan Air Base Airman & Family Readiness Center)

In the summer of 1970, the air was hot and muggy in Korea as usual. My "quonset hut" BOQ had no air conditioning so I decided to take a week of in-country leave to Korea's version of Hawaii, the resort beaches of Jejudo (Jeju Island).

My trip began on a train ride from Seoul to Busan. I checked into a hotel and strolled the beaches for a day. The next morning, I bought a one-way ticket to Jeju city on a Korean Airlines propeller airplane. I managed to find my way to the US Air Force Ground Controlled Interceptor (GCI) radar site at the southern tip of the island, then met up with an Air Force lieutenant friend. He arranged an empty room for me to stay in and gave me rides to several locations during my vacation.

After a few days, I was recharged and ready to return to my unit in Seoul, the K-16 original ROK (Republic of Korea) Yoido Air Force Base. But 2 days before my return flight, my friend recommended I hop space-A onto a US Air Force transport returning to Osan Air Base. It had brought Class-6 supplies to the island and would be empty and available for passengers on the way back. I took my friend's advice and boarded the C-47 amongst other US and Korean military personnel on leave or PCS. Our plane took off from a Pierced Steel Plank (PSP) dirt airstrip in southern Jejudo.

Unfortunately, by the time the plane was in the air, we were flying in rain. I had also managed to catch a cold from swimming in Jeju's beaches. The painful pressure differential and bumpy, cloudy ride gave me a terrible headache and an earache to match. I got off at the next stop to proceed on ground transportation instead. I disembarked at Kunsan Air Base (the plane's one stop on its way to Osan). I then rode a rickety old bus to a nearby train station,"Iri" (now named "Iksan") and began to stand at the platform waiting for the next train to Seoul.

After five minutes, a plain-clothed Korean policeman walked over and said to me in Korean "Smells suspicious!" You see, that day I had decided to wear my standard short-sleeve buttoned shirt, American sneakers and light brown striped jeans. Apparently this did not fit in with the dress code of shiny shoes and dark slacks popular among local Korean men those days. That, and my short military haircut.

In those days, there was a huge paranoia around North Korean spies infiltrating Korea. In addition, anyone catching one would be awarded a generous financial sum.

"We need to see inside your bag." I only carried a single black leather bag, with my travel essentials. My nice Canon camera and powerful zoom lenses inside further ignited the suspicions of this Korean officer. My detailed military Joint Operation Graphic (JOG) VFR maps of Korea displaying sophisticated icons and graphics seemed to dispel any doubt in his mind that I was an acute and valuable suspect. He was joined by two other police officers, who said "I think we may have caught a big one!" They pulled me over to their station police box (a room) and demanded that I confess my "true Identity."

I obligingly produced my US military ID card, professing I was a Korean-American serving as an Army Aviator in Korea. I said I usually carry these items because I am into photography and like to use these maps to navigate my way around Korea. This was upon deaf ears. One of the men yelled: "What kind of a fake ID is this! There is no such a thing!" He then whispered "We are going to need to beat the stuff out of him for the truth!"

Until this moment, I had considered myself lucky to survive the Korean War having lost both birth parents to the war, lucky to be aided by the kindness of American Foster parents, lucky to have the fortune of being schooled in the United States, lucky to have become a pilot for the US Army. I had returned to my homeland serving my country. But now I was going to be killed by the hands of my motherland's police. At this moment I said to myself "Ok, I am about to be dead meat."

Suddenly, a man pounded on the window and said "Gentlemen. This man is not a North Korean agent. I flew with him in a US Military airplane from Jejudo and he is, in fact, a US Army Officer. Please let him go." He had been peeking through the window and realized I was about to be beaten up by the three ROK policemen! The men shook their heads unconvinced. "Who are you really? What is your identity?" "Who are you...who are you? And to each other I kept hearing " Big one....big one!" They continued to search through my bag contents while interrogating me.

As the Seoul-bound train arrived, I heard "Oh Shucks! He's not one of them!" and disappointedly, eventually, gave up and released me.

I swiftly thanked the ROK Air Force captain, rushed out of the police box, and jumped onto the train to Seoul.This experience I call one of my nine lives.....in the summer of 1970 in the Land of the Morning Calm.