A Final Broadside

by Buddy Worrell

  Sara told her son that she was proud of him for not wanting to tie Donna down as she entered a new stage of her life but also for realizing that their feelings for each other were strong enough to attempt the long-distance relationship. “She is a beautiful girl, son, and there will be lots of young men at Chapel Hill who will attempt to take her away from you.” At the same time, she said, he would be exposed to young women around the training base. “There will be nice girls and not-so-nice girls who will want to stake a claim on you.”

  Ken chuckled and acknowledged that happenings around military installations were not always characterized as pristine. “I don’t know why, Mom, but something tells me that Donna and I will be okay. That would be my paranormal prediction for today!”

  Sara smiled and said that her paranormal prediction for supper was fried chicken.

  CHAPTER 20

  Donna had to report to early band practice two weeks before the first semester began, and on the day of her departure, Ken was at her house helping her load the car. Donna’s dad, Ron, was an ex-marine (if there was such a thing) who had served in the Pacific during World War I. He was peppering Ken with questions regarding Great Lakes and in what areas Ken would like to train.

  “You know, Donna’s mom was not thrilled about you enlisting,” Ron offered.

  “Yeah, neither was mine!” Ken replied.

  “Personally, I think all young men of draft age should serve in the armed forces for at least two years. It would go a long way toward their maturity and readiness to enter college or trade school. I’m proud of you, Ken, and I know your dad would be too!” Ron announced.

  Ken took the compliment and thanked Donna’s dad for his support and understanding.

  “The only thing I don’t understand is why you would want to be a swabby when you would have made a damn fine marine!”

  Ken laughed and reminded Ron that only in the navy could he command the sixteen-inch guns on a battleship.

  Ron shook his head slowly and said, “Ken, those ships are from another era. Hell, most of them are in mothballs or the scrap yards. They are like dinosaurs—big, powerful, and with lots of teeth, but also extinct!”

  Ken smiled and answered, “I have a hunch that they are not all washed up yet.”

  “Are you two going to help me with these boxes or just stand there?” called Donna from her front door.

  The ex-marine and soon-to-be-sailor moved quickly to assist with the final boxes, and Donna’s mom followed with two suitcases and an old trunk. Ken thought it was a good thing they were taking the station wagon instead of the Chevy, or something would have been left behind.

  “Okay, Ron, this is all of it,” Pat called out.

  “Mom, Dad, can you excuse us for a minute?” Donna asked her parents.

  They both nodded, smiled, and went back inside the house. Donna turned toward Ken and raised her head to see his face.

  He reached out and grasped both of her hands tightly. “I hate this!” Ken whispered. “I will miss you every day.”

  Donna pulled him closer until her face was nestled against his chest. “I hate this too!” she whispered. “I will miss you every day.”

  She backed up a step, let go of his hands, and leapt up into his waiting arms. Donna pulled his face to hers and kissed him with a passion Ken had not felt before. He held her body tightly to his and returned the kiss with more passion than he had ever offered. Donna’s eyes were welling up with tears as Ken gently put her down.

  “I will write to you every chance I get and call when I can,” Ken said.

  Donna wiped away the tears and looked up at Ken’s eyes and murmured, “I will write you every day and wait for your calls.”

  Ron and Pat emerged from their home, and Ron called out, “You all set, baby girl?”

  Donna turned toward her parents and nodded. She went to her mom and hugged her tightly. Pat teared up as she told her daughter that she loved her and wished her all the best at school. “Dad will help you unpack and get settled before he leaves you,” Pat said through tears. “We love you!”

  Ron shook Ken’s hand and turned to his daughter. “Saddle up!”

  Donna and her dad got into the station wagon, and Ron fired up the engine. “I should be back for supper,” he called out to Pat and drove down the driveway.

  Pat stood beside Ken and held on to his arm as they both waved the station wagon out of sight.

  “Thanks for letting me come over to help her load and say good-bye,” Ken said.

  Pat nodded, patting Ken’s arm.

  “She will be all right. I just feel it,” Ken said.

  “How are you?” Pat asked.

  Ken thought about it for a moment or two and answered, “I feel like I just took a gut-level hit from a 250-pound offensive tackle. I can’t breathe, and I think I am going to lose my breakfast.”

  “It must be love!” Pat chuckled. She turned and headed back toward the front door, calling out a good-bye to Ken as he got into the driver’s seat of his mom’s car.

  The engine came to life, and Ken pointed the car down the drive and onto the road home. Love! he thought. Was it supposed to make you ill? Was it supposed to hurt this much? In two weeks, he would board a bus to Charlotte and meet up with twenty or so other recruits. They would board an Eastern Airlines 727 for the flight to Chicago. Then they would board another bus to Great Lakes Naval Training Center. There, his life would change dramatically. But he couldn’t focus on any of those things. All that Ken could feel was an enormous gap in his soul that Donna used to fill.

  PART TWO

  Anathema

  • A person or thing detested or loathed

  • A person accursed or consigned to hell

  • A curse; execration

  CHAPTER 21

  Beijing, China, April 1955

  Her name was Vimean, which translates to “royalty” in the Khmer language. She was born into a privileged family.. As part of this “royal family,” she was educated in the finest schools in Cambodia, Thailand, and China.

  It was expected that she would marry as arranged by her parents, into a well-connected Cambodian family, thereby preserving wealth and titles within the families. But expectations can be altered by human events. At age sixteen, while attending a private school in China, Vimean met and was seduced by a young officer and military liaison of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, or DPRK.

  She realized that she was pregnant several months after they met, and she told him of the situation, begging to stay with him and ultimately immigrate to the north with him. Lieutenant See-Hwang lee had fallen deeply in love with Vimean and agreed to attempt to get her a visa so that she could return with him at the end of his tour of duty in China.

  Lieutenant See met with his superior officer, Comrade Major Cho, and explained his situation and his desire to return home to the DPRK with Vimean. He would marry her and obtain a visa for her under a Korean name. Then they could return home as a family to serve the Honorable Kim Il-sung and the revolution.

  Major Cho listened intently, and when the young lieutenant finished, he rose to his feet and moved directly in front of See, facing him. Cho stared emotionless for a few seconds and then without warning unleashed a slashing chop to the side of See’s face.

  The strike was sufficient to knock See to his knees, his face reddening at the place of impact.

  “Get to your feet!” Cho screamed.

  See was still reeling from the strike and was unable to rise above a kneeling position.

  “Lieutenant See, you will follow my orders and come to attention, or I swear by the Workers’ Party that I will shoot you like the kneeling dog you are!”

  See desperately tried to clear his head and stand up and was able to stand erect, though he was still wobbly. “Sir,” See responded weakly.

  “Will you address me as an o
fficer in the army of the DPRK or as a peasant sweeping excrement from the street?”

  “Sir!” See shouted as his stance grew firmer and his wits returned.

  Major Cho began to walk around the small, unadorned office of the DPRK liaison and spoke in a normal, factual style as if this were a routine meeting of officers. He pointed out that “fraternization” with indigenous females, other than those provided by the local government, was strictly prohibited. Cho also pointed out that as a Cambodian, the girl was obviously inferior to the flower of Korean womanhood. At home, she would not be fit to scrub toilets and would act as a stain on the uniform of the army of the DPRK.

  Cho instructed See to return to the female and break off the relationship. He added that they should never meet again, upon pain of imprisonment and even death. As for the unborn child, Cho felt sure that Vimean could locate “special healers” who could terminate the pregnancy. Cho turned away from the young lieutenant to stare at a picture of Mao Tse-tung and Kim Il-sung shaking hands at a military base north of the demilitarized zone. “I consider this matter closed! You are dismissed!” Cho barked.

  See met Vimean at a small café close to her school and related what had happened with the major. Her eyes closed and tears flowed at the vicious words spoken by Major Cho. She explained that if she returned to Phnom Penh and revealed her pregnancy, she would be shunned by her family as a harlot and traitor to the Cambodian culture. She would receive little or no support for herself or the baby when it was born. “What will we do?” Vimean pleaded as See embraced her tightly.

  He could feel her trembling with fear and despair and desperately wanted to comfort her. “My active service in the army ends in five years. At that point, I will become a member of the inactive reserve. I can request a civilian duty station as an advisor to the Communist Party in Cambodia. I will find you, and we will take the child, and we will defect into Thailand and then go to the United States,” See explained.

  “Five years!” Vimean cried. “I cannot wait five years for you. My family will be so angry and disappointed in me that they may kill me and my child.”

  “You are a child of royalty. Even if your family is angry, they will not abandon you or the child. When you return, you must tell them that the pregnancy was unforeseen. Tell them you were seduced but too ashamed upon becoming pregnant to contact them. They will embrace you and care for you.”

  “But what about the child? They may want me to abort the child, and I cannot do it. I will not do it!” Vimean screamed.

  “They will not demand that you abort, but they may ask if you would choose such an option. Tell them how you feel about the baby, and they will not force you,” See said in an encouraging voice. “I must return to my duty station and inform Major Cho that I have followed his orders and that we are through. I will be in contact, and I will always love you. Please, this is our only option.”

  See turned and ran from the café, leaving Vimean alone and weeping. After a few minutes, she rose and walked slowly back to her school. She would contact her mother and ask to come home.

  Minutes later, See arrived at Major Cho’s office and strode toward the major’s desk. He snapped to attention and barked, “Sir, I have followed and completed your orders. The matter between me and the Cambodian female is ended.”

  “I am delighted to hear this, Lieutenant. To fully ensure this sordid matter has ended, I have prepared orders that you return to our homeland tomorrow. A military transport aircraft is scheduled to make a stop at the airbase at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow, and you will be on it. I suggest you go to your barracks and prepare for the trip. You are dismissed!”

  CHAPTER 22

  The child was born in a Catholic hospital and convent run by a group of Carmelite nuns outside of Phnom Penh. Vimean’s parents were shocked and disappointed, but their daughter was still royalty, and the bastard son was still part of the royal family.

  Once she began showing, they had sent Vimean to the Carmelite nunnery to await the birth of the child, out of the sight and scrutiny of the public and prying eyes. The nuns were trained in midwife skills along with other essential nursing skills, and they provided a caring and nurturing environment for Vimean and the boy throughout his childhood.

  When the child was born, the Carmelites wanted to christen the baby boy John in honor of Christ’s apostle. Vimean agreed to appease the nuns but called the boy Rithipol, which in Khmer meant “mystical powers.” She sent word to See via a trusted friend in the DPRK liaison office that his son had been born, and she received a reply within three weeks.

  See was now assigned to a platoon of soldiers dedicated to rooting out any dissent or disharmony within the country. As such, he was above reproach and able to communicate freely with foreign agents and local vigilantes as needed. See wrote that he was pleased that the child was a male and that his transition to a civilian consultant was already in the works. See urged her to live quietly and peacefully, not drawing attention to herself and the child until he could come for them.

  Rithipol grew quickly and was healthy in the face of typical childhood illnesses in Cambodia. At age three, he was speaking both Khmer and fluent Mandarin. Vimean introduced him to rudimentary Korean phrases, and he assimilated the language at an alarming rate. By age five, it was apparent that the boy possessed extraordinary intelligence and ability to learn.

  The nuns taught him Latin, and a novitiate from Switzerland introduced him to mathematics, at which he quickly excelled. The novitiate also exposed the boy to German, Italian, and French, which he absorbed into his language bank.

  His mother shared with the child the shaky beginnings of her relationship with his father and all the things that had transpired since. Rithipol had no problem grasping complex emotional thoughts and explanations and pressed his mother for details of her time in China. “Was my father a coward?” he asked. “Why did he not stand up to the evil Major Cho? Why did he leave us and return to Korea without us?”

  These and other questions were familiar to Vimean, and she answered as she was able, deferring other questions to be asked when he met his father.

  In the summer of his fifth year, Vimean called to her son, who was playing with a soccer ball at the convent. She grasped his hand and led him into the small room at the convent that they had inhabited for the last five years and sat him down at their table. “I have received word that your father is coming to Phnom Penh in two weeks on an unofficial visit to explore closer political ties with the DPRK. He will be arriving by military transport for the meeting and wants us to join him at his hotel. He will have a room set aside for us there, and we will leave with him,” Vimean explained.

  “Where will we be going?” Rithipol asked casually.

  “There are several stops scheduled in China, then on to Russia.That is all I know for now except we will finally be able to live as a family!” Vimean sighed. “We will have new names and identities as Russian citizens, and you can attend the finest schools in the Soviet Union.”

  “You told me we were going to the United States,” Rithipol stated. “The novitiate told me about wonderful universities like Harvard, Princeton, and Duke. I was excited about learning English. Now I have to learn Russian?” he asked in a demanding voice.

  Vimean brushed back his thick black hair and spoke soothingly. “My son, you are so gifted and intelligent! You will learn Russian quickly, and all the best schools teach English. You will have an amazing command of language and be a prodigy to all who meet you!”

  “I have heard that the Russians are masters of mathematics and physics,” Rithipol said bluntly. “I suppose that will be interesting. It will be fascinating to meet my father. I still have many questions for him.”

  Vimean took his face in her hands. “He loves you very much, so much that he is placing his career and maybe even his life in jeopardy to rejoin us. He is a good man and a loyal man. I hope you will grow up to be like him,”
Vimean explained. “One last thing,” she whispered. “You and I must take Korean names for the ruse to be successful. I will be Kyang-soon Park. My Korean is not as good as yours, so I will only respond in short sentences and phrases. You, however, can converse fluently, and you must not switch to Khmer, or we will be found out. My son, please understand that I talk to you as an adult because of your intellect. But you are also a small boy who has to bear adult secrets. Are you prepared to take this path to freedom?”

  Rithipol looked at his mother and nodded. He was prepared, and he was ready.

  Vimean kissed him and asked, “Do you have any questions before we meet your father?”

  Rithipol nodded and said, “What is my Korean name?”

  “You will be called Chin-hwa Park.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The DPRK military transport landed at a private landing strip, which was typically used by smugglers. The old 1940s model Antonov An-2 needed every inch of the 3,000-foot grassy runway to get down and not go careening into the jungle surrounding the landing strip.

  A bamboo hut with a roof of palm fronds was located at the end of the runway, and a single car was parked in front. The transport taxied to the hut, and the pilot idled the huge radial prop while the rear door to the plane was opened from the inside. A set of metal steps was lowered to the grass, and a young Korean man in civilian dress climbed down, searching the area for any signs of danger. Finding none and seeing only the taxi, the young man called out, “Vimean?”

  Only then did Vimean and the child appear in the hut’s doorway, followed by the driver, who carried two suitcases. She looked at the young man and cried out, “See!” and ran into his embrace.

  He held her tightly as if she might slip away but then said, “Come, we must leave now!” See ushered Vimean and the boy up the metal steps and into the aging Antonov and then turned quickly to the driver below and retrieved the suitcases. See handed the driver a wad of Cambodian currency and pulled the metal steps into the plane.