Tempered Steel

Epilogue

Once the war was over there was no longer any reason to keep the drivers in the refugee camp. As they were preparing to make their way back home, a representative from an electronics company walked through the door of the barracks and offered them all jobs. All but a few were transported by bus to a sprawling complex that appeared untouched by the war. The drain from the military had left the company short of all kinds of workers; especially drivers.

After signing several documents that Kee didn’t really understand, he was led out a side door to the loading dock. They explained he would be driving equipment and parts all over Korea and told him how much he would be paid. Kee hadn’t understood how much the pay was. In the North, he was given enough to stay alive but not much else. His apartment had been assigned by the state, which was a part of his salary. The supervisor walked him to a large semi-truck with a trailer. It was white and built by Hyundai.

The supervisor showed him around the truck. He especially liked the area behind the cab that was like a small apartment. They spent about an hour going over the controls and the operating procedures. It was unlike anything he had driven before, but after an hour of driving the truck around the facility and getting to know its systems, he returned to the loading docks and attached to a trailer.

Much to Kee’s amazement, his first load was to go to Pyongyang. Given new maps and directions to the major highway, Kee left with the rig on his first run as a free man. He was amazed to see how much better the roads were in the South. He was even more amazed that the gates along the border were open with no guards present. He knew the war was over, but after years of enforced separation it felt very strange.

After a day of driving, he found the warehouse that was confiscated from the government and delivered his trailer of supplies. Leaving the trailer in the yard, he drove back to the apartment where he had lived and gathered his meager belongings. After weeks of living in decent surroundings, he realized how bad his assigned apartment had been. Kee closed the door but left it unlocked. He would never come back. Now he had a job and a future.

The small freighter made its way toward Sasebo, Japan. It wasn’t new, but well maintained and usable, especially in smaller ports. At first, the owners planned to sell the ship, but after urging by their leading captain the decision was made to let it ply between the islands of the Western Pacific.

Captain Sohn enjoyed the breeze through the bridge windows. The old ship ran well. Engineer Hahn had adopted the engines as his own and nursed them every day. Much to his surprise, his entire crew volunteered to follow him aboard their new home. The ship was smaller than the last one he commanded, but it was a ship and it was his.

He watched several crewmen walking along the main deck checking the hatch covers. He saw them tighten some tie-downs and make their way forward. They would reach Sasebo the next day, then go to Hamhung in the new Korea to deliver foodstuffs. There he would allow the crew to have a few days to visit home. In particular, he planned to accompany a young crewman to fulfill his promise to one day get him back home.

Three months into her assignment as US Forces, Korea, General Richardson was sitting in her office with little to do. Most of the American forces had been shipped home. The equipment was being loaded for transport back to the States and she was relegated to speeches and hand shaking for the most part.

The Korean government had been very efficient in expanding into the North. Their first priority was making sure people were fed. As a result, there were few complaints or protests. The arms facilities were turned over to some of the larger Korean corporations. Hyundai had taken over most of the shipbuilding and boat yards. The ammunition plants were being converted to manufacturing fertilizer and other chemicals. Another was trying to build private aircraft. The workers squabbled and balked about new procedures and quality control, but with real wages they were getting used to the idea that, if they did a good job and people bought their product, they would get paid more. It was a nice incentive.

There was a knock at her office door and her assistant Captain Neuman stepped in.

“Ma’am, there are two people outside to see you. They are both Americans and said you told them to contact you if they needed help.”

“Who are they and what do they want?” They wouldn’t be the first asking for a favor, although the fact that they were Americans surprised her slightly.

“They didn’t say what they wanted, Ma’am, but they did say their name was Dickson. A Mr. and Mrs. Dickson.”

Claire Richardson sprang from her chair and walked past the Captain to the door. The older couple was seated in chairs in the waiting area of the outer office. Richardson could immediately see that they were Dickson’s parents. The man had the stature of the boy and the color of his hair, but she could tell Lieutenant Dickson had looked like his mother. The resemblance was so strong Richardson was almost taken aback. She gathered herself and straightened her blouse before entering the room.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dickson, I am so glad to see you. Won’t you come in my office?” she asked as she shook their hands and led them into the next room. Coffee was offered but politely refused. The two nervously sat together in the chairs beside her desk.

“Thank you for seeing us, General,” the man said.

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Dickson. I can’t express how sorry I am at your loss.”

They waved it away. “We know, General. Our son wrote and told us about talking to you a couple of times. Your letter was really appreciated,” said his mother.

“I know we haven’t been in touch with you, but we decided to come to Korea and ask for your help,” the father said.

Richardson leaned forward in her chair. “If I can, I would be happy to,” she said.

The man smiled. “You mentioned in your letter the little boy Will saved, Jua Jing. We hoped to see the boy,” Mr. Dickson said.

“You see, Will was our only child. So if we can, we want to adopt this boy and bring him home to Nebraska.”

Richardson’s face spread into a smile. She punched the intercom. “Neuman get my car and driver,” she ordered.

Turning back to the Dicksons she said, “I will take you there personally. Have you been making arrangements?”

“Yes. We were told things weren’t ready, but this was the only time we could get here to see the boy, so we came anyway. We wanted you to be with us,” Mrs. Dickson said.

Richardson nodded. “I appreciate your thinking of me. Let’s go see him,” she said grabbing her cover.

The three left the headquarters and drove for ten minutes before turning into a small gated courtyard where children were playing. The three walked up the steps of a nondescript white building and were met by the Administrator.

“General Richardson! How are you?” she said.

“Che Ya, I want you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Dickson. They have flown here to see Jua Jing.”

“Ah yes, the Dicksons! I have been working to complete the necessary papers for the adoption. Please come in,” Che Ya said. They entered a small office. “Unfortunately, I still do not have the necessary passport and approvals. I checked again this morning, but they are still at the Ministry,” she said.

The Dickson’s looked heartbroken but tried to maintain themselves.

“What do you need?” asked Richardson.

“It’s all with the Foreign Secretary’s office. They tend to be a little slow sometimes.”

Richardson grinned. “Let’s see.” She summoned Captain Neuman in and gave him some instructions. He dashed out of the room and the car was heard tearing off. “Well, while we have everyone here, could Mr. and Mrs. Dickson meet the young fellow?” she asked.

Che Ya nodded. “I’ll go get him,” she said.

After she left the room Mrs. Dickson asked, “What are you having the captain do?”

“I have a little clout around here, so I asked if he would go up there and rattle the cage. He will use my name and authority. I figure he will be back within an hour with everything you’ll need,” she said smugly.

Che Ya entered the room with a young boy. He was typically Korean, with black hair and dark eyes. He was thin and tall. His face was slender and his eyes darted around the room, a little afraid and obviously not quite sure of what to think. Jua Jing could not remember the events of that night when he was rescued. Yet, when his eyes rested on Mrs. Dickson, a strange look came over his face. Slowly, he walked up and let the fingers of his right hand touch her cheek and feel her hair. “I have seen you,” he said in Korean.

Jua Jing remembered the face. It was a face he probably would never forget, but he couldn’t remember where he saw it. He didn’t know why, but he reached up and hugged Mrs. Dickson hard.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she put her arms around the child. After a moment he backed away and looked at Che Ya. “Have I seen them before?” he asked.

Che Ya explained. “Do you remember the night the soldiers came?” she asked. He nodded.

“Do you remember the one who helped you?”

He looked at her face for a moment, then his eyes shot wide and he gave a shudder. He suddenly remembered the young man carrying him through the building, the shooting, and the explosions. In an instant it all came rushing back. He remembered the man wrapping his arms around him tightly before the big bang that seemed to shove them hard. He remembered the face of the man as he was taken up and walked out of the place. It was the face that looked so peaceful. He clung to Che Ya as the memories returned.

“That is his mother,” she said.

Jua Jing looked at Mrs. Dickson’s face again. As they watched, the fear seemed to leave him. He stood more erect, his eyes opened wider and he gave a slight smile.

“Would you like to come live with us?” Mrs. Dickson asked.

The young man eased forward and in broken English asked, “In United States?”

The Dicksons stared in amazement that the young Korean child could speak some English. She nodded. “In a place called Nebraska,” she said.

His smile grew wide. “Where corn grows! I learn in school,” he said to her excitedly. Jua Jing walked back to Mrs. Dickson, no longer afraid, and began to tell her about his school.

The new family slowly began to know each other. By the time Captain Neuman returned with all the paperwork, there would be no pulling them apart.

The Boeing 747 cruised smoothly through the air on its way to Atlanta. In first class, Sergeant Major Paul Hufham sat sipping a beer. He had been offered the post of Command Sergeant Major at Fort Benning, Georgia. Not too bad, he thought. Cushy job and lots of perks. But best of all he would be there when Su Lynn had her baby.

Hufham received word that Ricks was already up on those two new legs. He even chuckled that Ricks had fallen flat on his ass the first time he tried to stand on his own. Little SOB would make that goal to carry his kid if it killed him.

The decision was made to station Ricks at Fort Benning as well. Training new soldiers would be right up his alley. Ricks already told Hufham he would stay in as long as they’d let him. So they would train these wet noses together. What a great way to wrap up a career.

He sat back in the seat and savored his drink. Hufham had originally been in coach, but the flight crew took one look at his uniform and all the ribbons and moved him up to first class. The seat was wide and soft, a movie was playing on a screen on the headrest in front of him. He could even put his feet up a little more than he was used to.

A little later, the attendant saw Hufham sleeping peacefully with his seat leaned all the way back. He’s a handsome man, she thought, and the uniform made him look even better. She turned off the overhead light and placed a blanket over him. Later on, when he was awake, she might sit and let him tell her some war stories.

It had been a long, tiring cruise. The Iowa transported the President to Seoul with a gunshoot along the way. The President was like a kid watching in fascination as the huge guns fired. Upon arrival in Seoul the President bid farewell to his friend and his crew. Although it was a formal departure, the President walked around the ship once more that morning and the crew had been very open in their desire for the President to remain aboard with them.

Since that time, the battleships and escorting destroyers traveled across the globe. In most ports they only stayed a few days, but Hammond met with the city officials and invited them all to visit his ships. Tours were given while inport with the ships rotating the duties so that everyone had the chance to enjoy the visit.

The “special” visits turned out to be the easiest. Local officials and citizens heard about what the battleships had done and were eager to please. During the entire cruise, only four instances of disturbances ashore were reported. None were from the Iowa. As promised, the President joined the ship in Copenhagen. The two day trip to Portsmouth was a joy and the crew enjoyed having the President onboard again.

In Portsmouth, Iowa held a grand reception on its fantail. The President’s Marine Band was on hand to render honors and play, but most wanted to hear the ship’s band that had become so famous. The band was eager to play for guests. During the reception the King and Queen came aboard along with the Prime Minister. The King asked for a short tour and Hammond enjoyed taking the group around. Once again, the crew was on its best behavior and was happy to show off their ship and their spaces.

Jim Butler enjoyed the fact that Sir Rupert Whitney, the First Sea Lord and his wife attended. Butler brought his wife and they sat with the Whitney’s spending a good deal of the time planning a vacation they would take together later in the year.

After that successful port visit, the crew slowly made their way home. Along the way there was a somber mood on the ship. The Iowa and her brethren were going home to be decommissioned again. The brief shining moment when these great ships sailed and fought together at sea had come to an end. They had made a great difference in the world, but the difference was not long lasting. Air power had reasserted itself and was strong as ever. Yet in that brief moment, the ships proved once again the power of their guns. The term ‘Fear God and Dreadnought’ was learned once more by an enemy which had sampled their might before.

But this time the world noticed. The ships influenced the balance of the war, depriving the enemy of mobility and landmass. They clearly demonstrated the usefulness of their armor in defeating missile threats and they were able to destroy hardened fixed fortifications some said were impregnable. True, aircraft could do the same thing, but the battleship did so with impunity.

The battleships entered New York harbor. While sailing in a line past the Statue of Liberty the harbor fireboats lifted their water cannons high and great streams of water welcomed the ships as they made their way past Manhattan to their piers for a three day visit. New Yorkers came out by the thousands to see the great ships and go aboard. It was a non-stop party until they left.

After leaving New York, the Massachusetts detached from the rest and began making her way to Fall River. The other ships turned their turrets out to sea and fired a final broadside. The Massachusetts made her way home alone while the rest headed south.

Next was Philadelphia. Like the Massachusetts, the ships bid their farewell to their sister, the New Jersey, with another broadside. The people of Philadelphia lined the banks as their ship made its way upriver. That night fireworks lit the sky and the crew was treated to one of the largest celebrations they had ever seen.

The Wisconsin entered Norfolk without much fanfare. The sailors at the Navy Base waved along the ships and piers, but when she neared the pier where she would moor, the area was filled with people and officials to greet her. Families were there along with veterans and others in Norfolk who wanted to show their support. The sailors left the ship into a sea of goodwill.

Wilmington was different. The column of four battleships was met by thousands of small boats and yachts. Balloons and aircraft were overhead and people were crowded along the beaches to watch as the North Carolina passed. The report of the broadside echoed across the water, setting off a cheer from every boat and every group.

USS North Carolina steamed slowly upriver escorted by hundreds of small boats. Ships in their berths along the way sounded their whistles in tribute. Passing under the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge, the crew saw a change in the museum and berthing facilities. The river had been widened in her absence and a new concrete dock installed. Very slowly, the North Carolina eased around with the help of tugs and pointed her bluff bow into the dock. She eased in gradually, fitting exactly as she should and without running into other boats as she did when she had first been moored there in the early 1960s. The museum area was filled with well wishers and families. The North Carolina, a long ignored piece of hardware, had been brought to life again. Now she was home and would never be forgotten.

After leaving the Alabama in Mobile, the Iowa and Missouri along with their remaining escorts quietly transited the Panama Canal. Traveling up the coast, they were joined by a fleet of destroyers and cruisers off San Diego for the cruise to San Francisco.

After one last joint broadside salute, the Iowa, Rooks, and Richard E. Byrd left the formation and made their way into San Francisco Bay. The band set up to play and the rest of the sailors donned their whites as they began to pass through the Golden Gate. At first it seemed peaceful enough. There was a fine misty fog slightly obscuring the shore and bridge, but as the ships came closer to the Golden Gate Bridge they heard distant cheers. Then someone noticed there was no traffic moving on the bridge. In the early morning light the men could see people waving from the side. As the fog was burned off a little more, they began to see throngs of people lining Fort Point Rock and the park on the far side.

The sailors manned the rail as they always did coming into port. The band began to play, bringing forth a tremendous cheer from above. As the ship passed beneath the bridge, confetti rained down upon it and people on the bridge were yelling as hard as their lungs could manage.

That was when they saw the inner harbor. It was filled with small craft. The Coast Guard did all they could to keep a clear channel, but the channel curved to the right instead of the left where they needed to go. The ships were forced to pass along the San Francisco waterfront where people filled the hills watching and cheering as the ships traveled past. The band kept playing, causing small groups to dance onshore.

Finally turning to the left, the Iowa and her escorts passed between Alcatraz and Treasure Island. The boats began to thin and the ships sped up to fifteen knots. The pilots expertly guided the ships up the bay toward Vallejo.

It took most of the morning to make their way to Mare Island and home. The two escorts moved ahead to moor before Iowa arrived. It was nearly noon when Iowa rounded the last turn and saw the approach to Mare Island. People lined the waterway welcoming the great ship home. Iowa’s men manned the rails again as she moved steadily onward toward the new colorful pylons marking the shipyard and museum. To handle the expected crowds, the decision was made to moor the ships at the new museum piers. The band readied to play one last time.

As the ship neared the museum, she slowed. Hammond blew one long blast on the ship’s whistle and the Iowa band began to play. They chose the song ‘Rockin’ Down the Highway,’ to be their entry song. From the first note, the crowd began to cheer loudly. Just as in San Francisco, confetti was blown high into the air around the ship as Vallejo came alive with dancing and good cheer.

Hammond stood on the bridge wing staring down at the crowd on the pier and savoring the return of his ship and crew. Up forward, Bos’n stood in his whites with his hard hat on his head grinning from ear to ear. Down below Father Danner stood on the O-2 level talking to some sailors. Davis was with the conning officer making sure things ran smoothly and standing beside the forward 5-inch mount he saw Doc Dickerson staring at the crowd and waving. He saw Master Chief Skelly walk the deck along with the Weapons Officer and heard a report from Main Control from Commander Kimberlain. They were all a part of his life now and it was difficult to believe he had known them such a short time. Even though they would soon part, he knew there would always be a special bond between himself and the crew.

As they moved closer to their berth, Hammond saw Jack Latham on the pier with the two senior veterans, Moosally and Morse. He waved down to them. Jack waved back and clasped his hands together over his head sharing the moment. Nearby he saw someone in a wheelchair waving at them. It appeared Petty Officer Owens was on the mend. Despite the scarring from his burns, Hammond could see a smile on the young man’s face.

That’s when he noticed a yellow Oldsmobile Delta 88 convertible drive onto the pier. Patricia Crowell stopped the car, climbed out, and walked to the edge of the pier as Iowa was pushed in by the tugs. She held up a set of keys and smiled.

As the lines went across to the pier, Rear Admiral Roger Hammond smiled and waved to her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. Opening it, he showed Mayor Crowell the diamond ring inside. She saw it, looked directly at him, and nodded her head. USS Iowa was home.

“Moored. Shift colors.”