The Monsoon Rains 

D. E. Larsen, DVM

I went to the door again and opened it just a bit to see if the rain was coming down in sheets. I could see the officer’s quarters across the street.

“Is it still raining, Larsen?” Steve Cross asked from the bar.

“It’s raining harder than I have ever seen it rain,” I said as I sat back on my bar stool. 

We were sitting in the NCO club at Camp Humphreys in South Korea. 

“The good thing is it’s pretty warm out there,” Steve said. “I mean, here we are in the middle of July, and it is raining harder than anything we have seen in Oregon. I hoped to go to the village tonight, but not in this stuff.”

South Korea typically gets most of its rainfall during the monsoon season, which starts in late June and runs through early August. 

“We are both from Oregon,” I said. “You must have learned that if you don’t do stuff in the rain, you just don’t do stuff.”

“Well, you are right there,” Steve said. “Rain never caused me to change plans back home. I guess it shouldn’t over here.”

“Yes, what is it, maybe a mile down to Duffy’s Tavern in the village?” I asked. “A couple of Oregon guys should be able to walk that without worrying about a little rain.”

“This is big rain,” the Korean bartender said. He had been listening to our conversation. “This rain might last all night.”

I have watched some of these rains in the last few weeks. Most of the time, they were during the day. There would be torrential rain for a few hours. The water would cover the ground around our operations building. Sometimes it looked like it was a foot deep. Then the rain would stop, and the sun would come out. Steam rose from everywhere, and a half hour later, all the water was gone. It was absorbed by the porous soil and also ran into the rice paddies that flanked our building.

“Most of the time, these rains only last a few hours,” I said.

“That happens during the day,” the bartender said. “At night, they last a long time.”

“I say a couple of Oregon kids should walk down to Duffy’s,” Steve said as he stood up and pulled on his field jacket. “A little rain isn’t going to hurt us.”

“Okay, let’s go,” I said as I finished my beer and grabbed my field jacket and hat.

We opened the door, and I took a deep breath. The rain was heavier than it was at my last check.

“This is your last chance, Cross,” I said. “You can withdraw from this adventure now if you want. Once we start, there is no withdrawal.”

Steve pulled his hat down so it fits tight. He glanced at me.

“Let’s get going,” he said.

We stepped out into the rain. It was raining so hard we could hardly see the edge of the road. We quickened our pace a little. When we came to the main gate, the MPs were all huddled inside the guard house. They never looked up.

When we walked down the middle of the street in An Jung Ni, we could just make out the front of the shops on either side of the road. Our combat boots kept our feet dry, but we were walking in a couple of inches of water on the street.

Our summer field jackets were not designed to be waterproof for any period of time. By now, water was soaking through our hats and running down our faces. My shoulders were wet to the skin, and I could feel water running down my back.

“I think we are getting wet,” Steve said. “This is no Oregon rain.”

Finally, we came to the ally that led to Duffy’s Tavern. We pushed through the door and were greeted with a near-empty bar. Just a few GIs from our company and the bartender. Even the business girls were smart enough to stay home.

 We stood dripping wet, with a large puddle growing around our feet. We started peeling off our wet things, and Duffy, the tall Chinese owner, came over with a couple of bar towels.

“It’s very wet outside,” Duffy said. “You should stay inside.”

Max got up from his bar stool and came over to help us hang some of our wet things on the back of the chairs. He was noticeably dry.

“Did you two walk down here in this downpour?” Max asked.

“We’re from Oregon,” Steve said. “We don’t let a little rain stop our parade.”

“Look around,” Max said. “Everyone else seems to have the sense to come in out of the rain.”

“That’s not the worse part of it,” I said.

“What’s the worse part?” Max asked.

“We have to turn around and walk back to base in a couple of hours,” I said.

“Not me,” Max said. “I’m staying the night in my hooch.”

“Maybe this will let up before we need to head back,” Steve said.

We stayed and had a couple of Korean beers. OB was the brand. Stood for Oriental Brewery. Actually, it was a pretty good beer. 

The rain did let up, and our trip back to base was a little more comfortable.

In the morning, our field jackets were still wet. The good thing was it was warm enough that we could carry them.

Photo by Egor Litvinov on Pexels.