It was Tuesday when I got the call, "Hey, dad, I've missed my flight." I paused, "Excuse me?" It was true, the Specialist had specially missed his flight from Osan airbase to Seattle and thence to Dallas. And he was freaked out at the prospect of, well, all kinds of trouble.
In a spirit of "no man left behind," I called up Camp Humphreys, explained the situation, and before you could say "Imjin Hill meets Glorious Glosters" spoke to a perfectly polite Korean woman who perfectly rescheduled the flight.
Another call, this time to a soldier in a taxi returning to base, "Your flight's rescheduled to Thursday, it leaves at Noon." A shocked silence, "You got through? Wow, thanks." And the next thing you know, the kid was standing at the carousel at Terminal C. "Welcome home!"
Seriously, it's the first leave of any length he's had in one and a half years. Thanks, scamdemic. I took him out to an Irish pub around the corner for Guinness, fries and orange duck, of all things. "Look at this, orange duck, just like being in Ireland, eh?" Tasty, though.
He's off to Canada on Saturday, if they'll let him through the border, and then back to Texas in August before deploying to Fort Hood. And that, readers, is the story of that. I tell you, good to see my eldest son again.
Cheers,
LSP
