He gave me a curious look. “Haven’t you been reading the papers?”
I said, “Hey, Chuck, see these shorts and this ratty T-shirt I’m wearing?”
“Yes sir.”
“This is what’s called formal attire in Bermuda. See, that’s where I was until, uh, oh” – I looked at my watch – “until about twenty-eight hours ago. Know what’s so great about Bermuda? No? Let me tell you: No newspapers. No TVs. No cares in the world but which beach has the skimpiest bikinis and which bar’s having a two-for-one special at happy hour.”
He nodded right along. “Yeah, well, things aren’t so blase over here. We’re drowning in anti-American riots. It’s gotten so bad we’re restricted to our bases. No civilian cars with U.S. plates and no unescorted military vehicles are allowed outside the gates.”
“That why we’re in this Kia?”
“It’s less noticeable. And it took a two-star general to sign off on letting me come get you. I asked for a helicopter, but, no offense intended, they said you just weren’t that damned important.”
“A helicopter?” I asked, beginning to think this captain was a little over the edge. This was South Korea. These people were our allies, not our enemies.
Sounding not the least bit contrite, he said, “I know it sounds crazy, but, hey, the American embassy got firebombed two days ago. The ambassador actually got beat up. Bad, too. He had to be medevaced to Hawaii.”
With the worldly resignation of one who has spent some time in Korea, I said, “Look, anti-American riots are a popular local sport. You must be new. Trust me, Chuck, you’ll get used to it.”
Three seconds later, I ate my words.
We’d just crested a long, steep hill, and the back gate of the air base loomed only twenty yards ahead. The roof of our car suddenly sounded like it was exploding. The sound came from a shower of rocks that struck like pistol shots. I looked through the front windshield and saw three Molotov cocktails come sailing, end over end, through the air. Two exploded on the tarmac directly ahead. The third grazed off the trunk of our car and erupted right behind us. Two dozen military policemen were careening through the gate, flailing hopelessly with their nightsticks, shoving backward, and being chased by a huge mob of Koreans.