“I need this space open,” he said angrily. “You need to move this thing.”
Kee looked up at him. “Give me a few minutes, it doesn’t want to start,” he shouted back.
After going over it a second time, he closed the cab and tried to start it again. The engine cranked but failed to run. Now several men were beside him giving advice on what to look for and how to fix it. The party official came out and added his two cents worth, then told Kee he was a fool and headed back to the office.
Kee could feel the pressure to get things moving now. After another series of failed attempts, the terminal manager had another truck pull in front of Kee’s and hook on a chain. The truck was pulled to a small maintenance facility at the far end of the yard. Kee was truly frightened now. Truck repairs were often taken out of a man’s pay and were notoriously expensive. A mechanic came out of the facility and greeted Kee. He was wearing a set of dingy, stained overhauls and was covered up to his elbows with grease and grime. He was wiping his hands on a rag that would probably leave more grease than it took off.
“What is the problem?” he asked.
“It was running when I pulled it in and it won’t start now,” Kee said.
The mechanic nodded and helped him tilt the cab again. Then he crawled up on the edge and began leaning over the engine. After a moment, he called Kee over. Kee jumped up on the edge with the man and looked where he was pointing.
“You seem to have paid attention to our signal, my friend,” the mechanic said in a low voice.
Kee almost jumped off the truck in surprise. Although he knew there was to be a contact, he never expected it here, in the open, with his political officer watching.
“Do not be afraid, Comrade. My government is watching out for your best interests. We simply would like some information that you may be able to obtain for us,” he said calmly while appearing to work on the engine.
Kee nodded briefly and handed the man a wrench from the tool kit. At least he could appear to be helpful. “What information would you like?” he asked.
The mechanic leaned back and grabbed another wrench. “We would like to know the locations of the tunnels leading from your nation across the demilitarized zone,” the man said.
Kee blinked at that one. “That is no problem,” he said. “I have already traveled through all of them. Have you a map we could look at?”
The mechanic sat up and stared at the man. It was that easy? Surely these were state secrets.
Kee saw the puzzled look on the man’s face. He couldn’t understand why he would not understand. He had said it plain enough. He repeated himself. “I have delivered military supplies through each of the five tunnels going under the former zone. I can show you right now,” he said.
The mechanic nodded his head. “Wait here,” he said as he got off the truck and went back into the building. Two minutes later he came out carrying a box with a part in it. He jumped back on the truck and joined Kee. Taking the part out, he placed it beside the engine and unwrapped it. The wrapping was a map with every known road in North and South Korea. As the men leaned over the engine again, Kee took out a pencil and marked where five roads were detoured and came out on the other side of the Zone. He also indicated where they linked up to roads in the South. Then he started making other notations. He talked as he wrote.
“These two tunnels are only one way. Although I could get this truck through them, there was only three feet of clearance on either side of the road. I do not like them. This one is made for very heavy equipment like the tank carriers. It is very wide and lighted inside with thick concrete walls and top. There are also security posts along the way. I heard one of the other drivers say they could pull our fighter planes inside.” Then he pointed to the last two. “These are for general trucks. They are two way, but not as wide as they should be. There are no guards there,” he said.
“How deep do these tunnels go?”
“I am not sure, but they go down at an angle for more than a mile before leveling out. Then they climb for more than a mile. I know my ears pop several times before getting to the bottom or coming to the top. They also tell us to drive through swiftly. The air in the bottom will make you pass out if you stay too long,” Kee said.
Seeing that Kee was finished, the mechanic nodded and folded the map back, placing it in the box again like a piece of waste paper. He grabbed the part and replaced the old one on the truck. He also took out a small wire and replaced one already on the engine. “It should run fine now,” he said.
As they stood up the Political Officer came running up. “I see how you treat state property. If you had taken better care of your equipment, this would not have happened!” he shouted.
The mechanic held up his hand. “Comrade, it is not this man’s fault. The Soviet factory that made this part has produced faulty ones for years. It is a wonder it lasted this long. As a matter of fact, we have never seen one last as many miles as this one has. It is a tribute to this man’s skill that this truck is still on the road. I have examined the engine and except for this, it is perfect. We of the People’s Republic assume some of the blame for this part. After all, we helped our Comrades in the Democratic People’s Republic get these trucks. We have a stockpile of new parts to take care of such matters. It is provided at no cost. I will make a formal report to the state committee on the ongoing problem so that it is on the record. I hope this has not delayed you too long.”
The Political Officer seemed to be placated. Since it was not the driver’s fault, there would be no blame at the delay. He thanked the man and asked where the bathroom facilities were. After some directions, he took off again.
Kee turned to the mechanic. “Thank you for your help. It could have been bad for me.”
The mechanic smiled. “I said before we were looking out for your best interests. It is also in our best interests for you to continue in your job. We will be contacting you again,” he said. Then he grabbed the tool box and his “trash” and went back into the building. Within five minutes, Kee, his passenger, and his cargo were on the way back to North Korea.
“Single up all lines,” came the order over the sound-powered phones. On deck, the men scurried to the lines to let all but one loose from the ship in preparation for getting underway. On the pier men stood by each bollard letting go each set of lines and allowing the men onboard to pull them in. Captain Hammond and the XO stood on the bridge wing watching the evolution. The last brow was lifted by a crane and set on the dock.
The pilot, an older man named Jamison, looked over at the Captain. “Ready when you are, Captain,” he said.
“Then let’s get this show on the road,” Hammond said. “The ship is yours, sir.”
Jamison winked and ordered all lines in. As the last line was lifted from a bollard on the pier, the ship’s Boatswain’s Mate keyed the 1MC, blew his whistle, and said, “Underway, shift colors.” With those words the American flag rose on the main truck of the mast along with the ship’s commissioning pennant. It was the first time the flag had flown there in over 25 years. The Bos’n’s mate reached up and pulled a handle on the bridge and the ship’s whistle let out a long boisterous blast.
Using a newly arrived set of radios, the pilot called the tugs to start pulling. Six big harbor tugs began straining at their cables, pulling the massive ship away from the pier. It was a slow process. 58,000 tons does not move quickly. After ten minutes the ship was in the middle of the channel and the pilot had the forward tugs continue pulling while the after tugs began pushing the stern around. The Iowa slowly began turning around in the channel for her trip to the sea.