Camp Casey and Miss Julia

Life changes constantly.  We learn this as we grow and we see all the changes as we grow up.

But, as a little, lost child living in a surreal environment that was never supposed to be, living a make believe life as a pretend soldier in a pretend world, change is not something you expect.  Especially when life seems so grand and wonderful.  

You get to eat all you want, which is totally opposite of what's really happening in Korean society in the mid 50's.  

Horrid atrocities by the north Koreans

Evacuation to safety

It was a time of horrible hunger and famine among most of the people.  The soldiers fought with the armies going up and down the Korean peninsula over the three years of the Korean War.  Millions of the Korean peoples, the common peasants who never did have it very good even in the best of times were now displaced and trying to find ways to survive.  There was no real governmental systems or services until the later part of 1953, and it would take a few more years until the Korean government began to govern through out the South Korean nation.  The Korean War Armistice brought a stalemated cease fire to the peninsula, but not a peace, so technically the war is still going on, with no peace treaty.  It would not be "another Korean War" if hostilities restarted, it would just be a continuation of "the War".  

Evacuation and mass exodus to safety

So, there I was, a little lost boy living a fantasy life in Camp Casey as a "little soldier".  I got treated very well, with Corporal Hernandez acting very much like a loving, caring "Appa Hernandez".  I would get toys on payday.  I was taken to the USO for doughnuts and to play games with other mascots.  I got to run around the camp with little discipline or restrictions.  I got to know about the "PX" and the magic of all the toys, the Mess Hall where there was unlimited food.  Yes, life was good.

At the USO, I got to meet Miss Julia.  Julia Allison was one of the USO representative ladies who helped the soldiers meet there needs for a touch of America and "home".  She was totally beautiful, nice, and so kind to all of us mascots.  She made sure we had our share of doughnuts.  She stated later on when we were to meet again while I was attending the U.S. Naval Academy years later that she knew I was different.  I one of the few mascots who made sure all soldiers had something to eat, that I was always friendly and had a smile for everyone.  She even tried to teach me some nice English words other than the foul language the soldiers were teaching the mascots.  

With time, the 7th I.D. was transferred back home and the 2nd I.D. came in.  This meant that my "Appa Hernandez" was going home.  He could not take me with him, although he said he tried.  I bitterly remember my heart break as I watched him load onto the train and I was again left alone on that train platform in Tong Du Chong.  Once again I was alone.  But, this time I had a resource.  I went back to Miss Julia.  

The new Division commander mandated that all mascots had to go off the camp and so they opened some orphanages for these orphans.  Miss Julia took me to one, the one that had been opened by Mr. Harry Holt in Il San, near Camp Casey.  I believed and thought that Miss Julia was taking me with her to go to her home.  When she dropped me off, well, once again heart break.  She said she would come back, but by now I was skeptical.  

I tried to adjust to the new orphanage life.  I was many, perhaps over a hundred of us of various ages.  I remember Mr. Holt driving the big bulldozer as he was preparing ground for a new building.  I got to eat my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich, along with a glass of evaporated milk for a meal.  It remains one of my favorite foods to this day, a go to comfort food.  

Time passed and I was taken to a hospital to be checked, pictures were taken, and soon they told me that I was going to "Mi Guk", to America to be with my new family.  I was doubtful that my Appa had gone to America, but I behaved and listened. 

December 28th, 1958 I arrived in Newark Airport, New Jersey and walked off the airplane, down the stairs and my new parents, Mr. William Houck and Mrs. Elnora Houck were waiting for me.  

I don't remember any smiles, just took my hand after checking my baggage tag on my arm, and led me to the car, a 1952 Chevy.  It was just like the one that Miss Julia took me to the orphanage, so I thought, "oh, I'm going back to the orphanage".  I fell asleep in the back of the car.

My first car ride, the 1952 Chevy!

When I awoke, I was at my new Uncle Dick, the brother of Mrs. Houck, and Aunt Drussie's home somewhere in the Philadelphia area.  They had a big dinner with potatoes, mashed potatoes, lots of meat and bread and vegetables and more.  I loved the mashed potatoes and ate and ate.  As an orphan, you never know when your next meal will be!  

Don't remember much but soon we were at "home" at 401 Water Street, Danville, PA 17821!  

My new sister, Susan, and my new brother, Donald, both of whom were older than me, Susan two years older and Donald was 5 years older, were there to greet me.  The Danville News ran a little piece about how the Houck's had adopted a Korean orphan, and showed a very happy little James Charles Houck, my given American name, with his new sister and brother.

Mrs. Elnora Houck in her later years

I wish I could say these were happy times.  I wish.  But, these were tough, awful times.

I didn't know the rules, customs, culture.  I was the oldest child 

who had been adopted at the time.  The United States had some very restrictive laws making it very difficult to adopt children over 10 years of age in the 1950's.  Because of these laws, Holt Adoption Agency had me as a 7 year old.  I believe I am at least 2, perhaps 3 years older.  Oh sure, I looked small and tiny, maybe even younger than 7.  This was due to 2-3 years of surviving on the streets of post war Korea with little food, no care, and certainly no nurturing of any parent or family.  So, in 1958, "they" said I was 7 and came to America as a 7 year old. 

However, if this was true, then I would have been 4, at most 5 when I became separated from my Appa in Busan.  Considering the circumstances and the post war environment of Korea and Seoul, a 4 year old would have not been able to survive the deprivation, hunger, abuse, the slavery, the forced labor, the 3 harsh winters with the cold and hunger.  No way in my mind.  Yes, 3 harsh, cold, hunger filled winters, two as a slave to older kids where I was just property that belonged to my "hyun", an older "brother" who used and abused me in the most horrid ways.  I have four scars on my head where he put out four cigarettes to mark and brand me as his property.  One does not forget such atrocity or hardship or hunger.

So, here I was a 10 year old in a 7 year old body, having to learn a new way of life with new home, new family with their strict Baptist rules, new country, new language, new customs, new culture and new cultural ways of behaviors, new everything.  

These were indeed some of the "worse of times".  

I even thought of running away, but I did not want to go through the horrors of hunger and deprivation again.  I did not want to suffer anymore.  Yes, hunger me kept there.  

So, each night as I lay down on the floor, since I was used to sleeping on the floor in Korea, I would not get into my "bed" for awhile, that little camp cot they gave me was my "bed" until I left in 1969 for the United States Naval Academy,  I was totally "homesick" and alone in the worse way.

I cried in my loneliness, loss, and pains.  I cried for my Appa to find me.  I cried for my Korean food, for the warmth of my Appa's arms.  I cried in my little shell and dreamed of the day that I would be free.