Chapter Forty

 

Forty

“Hong Kong is a wonderful, mixed-up town where you’ve got great food and adventure. First and foremost, it’s a great place to experience China in a relatively accessible way.”

Anthony Bourdain

 

The San Bernardino got underway and we navigated south. We passed by Cambodia, out of the Gulf of Thailand, and around the peninsula of Vietnam as the ship turned north. For a while, we ran roughly parallel to the southern Vietnamese coastline, then turned out into the South China sea, continuing north midway between Vietnam and the Philippines. On our port side (left) lay the shore that held names long familiar to me. Dong Ha, Huế City, and Da Nang, where my father had served in 1966. To our starboard (right) was the Philippine peninsula known as Bataan, which had been the setting for the infamous march that caused so much death and misery during WWII. At that point in the voyage we passed through a fast moving storm, and I learned the special misery of seasickness that comes from being on a flat-bottomed ship in the rolling ocean waves. Once the storm passed, the seas became calm and the skies clear. The ship’s Captain arranged for a “steel beach picnic” day, where we grilled hamburgers, relaxed in the sun, and played games on the deck. Being at sea was magical. At night the stars shone bright in the darkness, with no competing lights from cities or vehicles. The evenings usually brought a light warm breeze, and I developed a habit of staying out on the open deck until late in the night. I would sit idly and watch the stars shine and the dark water of the ship’s wake churning below to the low hum of the six diesel engines that pushed us along. After the hectic schedule and events since joining the Fleet, it was a welcome break. Our next destination was the port of Hong Kong.

What first appeared as a small smudge on the horizon grew steadily larger until the view was filled with skyscrapers and buildings. We eased into Victoria Harbor as large passenger jets passed dangerously low to land at the waterfront airport. The city of Hong Kong had been a center for commerce for thousands of years and had developed into the financial heart of east Asia. Unlike Japan, it had been successfully conquered by the Mongols in the thirteenth century, and it became the capital for the region. After the first Opium War in 1842, the British Empire had absorbed the city as a colony, and in 1898 had dictated terms of a 99-year lease of the surrounding territory. Much like the Japanese who would later emulate them, the British preferred their conquests to have an air of legality, and a 99-year lease was the longest term of lease recognized by commonly accepted international standards of the time. Hong Kong had prospered under British rule, but the 99 years lease would be expiring soon, after which it would return to the now communist government of China. The prospect of the largest economic center in Asia falling into communist hands was not appealing to the West.

Most people think of port calls as a tamed down version of the “Pirates of the Caribbean” attraction at Disneyworld, where Marines and sailors run ashore to wantonly pursue beer and merriment. While these visits certainly provide the chance to blow off steam after a long period at sea, they also provide several other substantial benefits. The spending of the crew helps the local economy, fostering goodwill towards the US. Ships purchase large quantities of fuel and supplies, providing an added local fiscal boost. Coordination with the national and local officials who must approve the visit builds trust and familiarity. Officers and staff become familiar with local harbors and coastlines where they might navigate during future operations. Finally, the sight of the grey ships with their deadly armaments pulling into a harbor serves as a not-so-subtle reminder to both friend and potential foe of the ability of the United States to project overwhelming military power anywhere on the globe.

The July 8^th,1853 arrival of an American naval squadron commanded by Commodore Matthew Perry to Edo Bay (now Tokyo Bay) had introduced the previously isolated nation of Japan to American “gunboat diplomacy”. The squadron included a detachment of Marines under the command of a future commandant of the Marine Corps, Major Jacob Zeilin. Demands by the Japanese that the Americans leave were answered by the gift of a white flag and a letter bluntly stating that further inhospitality would result in war. The Japanese would need the white flag for their inevitable surrender. (11) In order to drive the point home, Perry pointed the 73 guns of the fleet towards the shore and fired blanks in a celebration of American Independence Day. Negotiations commenced and the Americans were allowed a port call at an alternate location of Yokosuka, a few miles southwest of Tokyo. During the visit, Perry submitted a request to the government for access to Japanese ports for refueling stops and commerce. Once the port call was complete, Perry relayed that he was leaving, but would return in a year for a formal answer to his request. (12) He proceeded to Hong Kong but would return six months later to successfully negotiate the formal agreement. The shock and humiliation from the incident would fuel a drive to modernize and strengthen their military under a revival of the Bushido culture. While my ancestor Henry Bunch and his confederate rebels were fighting their Yankee cousins, the Japanese were steadily laying the foundation for an empire. By the turn of the century, the nation and its revived military would be violently projecting power in the region themselves. 

The San Bernardino (designated as LST-1189) slipped into Hong Kong’s Victoria Harbor, and the crew watched in awe as the expanse of the city came into view. The docks and surrounding area teamed with activity, and the buildings stretched all the way to the mountains in the distance. In a long held naval tradition known as “Manning the Rail”, Marines and sailors stood at parade rest facing outward on the deck’s perimeter, adding their presence to what must have been an impressive sight for the locals viewing the arrival. The crew and the residents of Hong Kong both eagerly awaited the ship’s mooring and the lowering of the gangplank.

My first stop was to a currency exchange operation. I had converted much my savings to traveler’s checks before deploying. I cashed my remaining checks and converted them to local Hong Kong dollars. The ornate currency featured a shield crest, with a lion and a horse facing a crown in the center. At the top of the dollar, in both Chinese and English characters, was written, “The Hongkong and Shanghai Banking Corporation Promises to pay the bearer on demand at its office here” The amount of the bill was printed below the text in the middle of the note.

I had only one objective for the port call. While Bangkok was known for its emeralds and sapphires, Hong Kong had a reputation as one of the best places in the world to buy a diamond. During my time in the fleet, Elizabeth and I had kept our correspondence going. She was a keeper, and with every letter and call I realized how special she was. All signs pointed to a continuation of the relationship, and an engagement seemed a distinct possibility once I returned. I checked out several stores and finally ended up in the Kowloon district, in the shop of proprietor Marco F. K. Lam. Mr. Lam patiently explained the nuances of diamond selection, introducing me to types of cut, clarity, color, and weight that distinguished stones of higher value. Under his instruction, I picked one that seemed appropriate for the occasion and my budget. As was customary, the price was negotiated. I had been instructed by salty Marines that shopkeepers expected haggling, and if you didn’t try to work the price down they considered you foolish. Mr. Lam and I came to an agreement on what was fair, the transaction was completed, and I tucked a beautiful diamond engagement ring into my pocket.

With my main objective complete on the first day, I began taking in the sites with friends. We first stopped at MadDog’s pub, where we met a group of British expatriates who worked in the financial sector. They loved the life in the port city and were concerned about what would happen when the communists were scheduled to regain control in a few years. After a few rounds of drinks, we wished them well and set off to explore the narrow streets. We ended up in a six story Chinese restaurant named the “Jumbo”, which was floating in the harbor. From our table on board the Jumbo, we watched dragon boat races in the harbor until it got dark. The next few days were a blur of sightseeing as we took in the historic city and experienced its culture. Our final shore excursion was a ride in open gondolas that were precariously suspended from a steel cable running from the base to the top of one of the mountains I had seen as we entered the harbor. From the peak, the breathtaking view included the entire city, as well as the harbor and ocean below. Liberty call ended, and we again boarded our ship and gently cruised out of the harbor.

Back underway, we headed east, eventually passing just to the south of Taiwan, close enough that we could see the large island on the horizon as we continued out into the northern area of the Philippine Sea. From there it was an easy cruise back to Okinawa. We eased into the bay named Kin that the division HQ overlooked and pulled up at the end of a concrete pier that jutted out into the water. The San Bernardino lowered her ramp onto the pier, and vehicles rumbled off. Our deployment was complete.