To barracks and back

As his plane descended, Minkyu Kim had only one thought: “Am I really going back?”
He sat between two women, which was strange, he remembers thinking, because he had almost no contact with women for close to two years. He kept reminding himself this was not, in fact, a dream. He really was on his way home — or what used to be home.

As he stepped off the plane in Indianapolis and entered the terminal, he froze
.
The walls were covered with advertisements in English. People around him were hurrying off the plane and into America, but Minkyu stood still.

“Oh, shit,” he said. His life as a student at an American university two years ago came flooding back.

“Everything was odd,” he recalled. “It was all new and somehow old at the same time.”

But Minkyu isn’t unlike any other South Korean man his age who lives abroad.

All South Korean male citizens between the ages of 19 and 34 must return home no matter where they are in the world to fulfill their conscription duty to the Korean
military.

Though South Korean citizens have grown accustomed to taking those two years out of their lives, the process is especially complicated for people like Minkyu who come to America to study, go home after a year or two to serve in the military and then face the struggle of assimilating back into American life when they return.

IU is home to about 40,000 students, including almost 5,500 from other countries. More than 900 students are South Korean, and half of them leave at some point during their college career to spend time in the military of their home
country.

For these students, shifts between cultures and roles — between soldier and civilian life — can be disorienting.

The hardest part of returning for some is realizing life in the U.S. has moved on without them. For others, it’s getting back in the swing of living in a culture in which they were not raised.

In the time he was gone, Minkyu said so much changed for him that he had a difficult time imagining what his life would be like when he returned to the United States
.
“On the day I was discharged, I didn’t feel anything,” Minkyu said. “I felt a little like I was leaving home. Leaving such a place is exciting and sad at the same time. I thought, ‘Where do I go from here?’”

LIFE BEFORE SERVICE

Minkyu enrolled at IU in 2009 as an ambitious 18-year-old business major. Though his parents, South Korean natives, live and work in India, he said he came to the U.S. because he prefers American business and hopes to work here after he graduates.
 
Deciding to move half a world away and start a new life separate from his parents was not as difficult, he said, as having to make the inevitable decision to return to Korea for his service.

About 30,000 U.S. troops stationed in South Korea today help maintain the armistice between North and South Korea. Minkyu first tried to join the U.S. branch of the military — the Korean Augmentation to the United States Army, also colloquially known as KATUSA. This specific branch is for Korean citizens highly proficient in English who wish to carry out their conscription duties with Americans.

But it’s very competitive, and few Korean citizens are accepted. Minkyu was already a sophomore in college when he was denied entry to KATUSA.

His time to join the military was ticking away.

Korean men have until age 34 to complete their military service, according to the government notification they all get following high school graduation.
 
Mandatory service for South Korean men began in 1948 after the division of Korea. The war that separated the North and South never really ended, though the two sides aren’t actively fighting on the battlefield.

Minkyu knew he had to leave, but before he could, he had to go through a lengthy process to un-enroll at IU.

Tehanee Ratwatte, student advisor for the Office of International Services, is one staff member who helps students through the process.

The process includes a significant amount of paperwork, speaking with an academic adviser and eventually terminating the student’s records within the U.S. government database until he wishes to reinstate his status as an international student.

Some students come for just one semester before they leave and others finish all but one, Ratwatte said. Nevertheless, the process remains the same.

Minkyu went into the Army unquestioningly, partly because Korean citizens will face jail time if they refuse service, but also because he understands the political climate in his home country.

Once he left his American university behind, Minkyu’s service officially began.

His world expanded to much more than just his understanding of duty — his physical, emotional and even religious strength was tested over the course of the next two years.

On Oct. 4, 2011, Minkyu boarded his plane to Seoul.

BASIC TRAINING

New recruits go through a six-week intensive training camp.

There, they learn to shoot an automatic rifle, a first for most. They learn to march, to salute and to endure physical exhaustion.

The first thing Minkyu remembers is the physical pain of training camp. He had never been tested in that way before.

“The hardest thing was the overnight march,” Minkyu said, referencing a 25-mile march in his fourth week of training during which he had to carry a 55-pound bag the entire time.

“It was the most challenging thing I ever experienced,” he said.

What kept him marching through what he called the longest night of his life was camaraderie, one of the things he remembers most fondly about the military.

As he felt his body faltering, watching his fellow soldiers around him going through the same experience motivated him to continue.

“In the first hours, my shoulders ached so badly, I thought, ‘The pain is too much,’”
Minkyu said. “I didn’t want to keep marching, but there was this peer factor. There was a guy in front of me and a guy behind me, and I thought, ‘If they can do it, so can I.’”

After he graduated from basic training, Minkyu was relocated and given the number of a basic foot soldier — 111,101.

Minkyu said he loved his work in the army, though that isn’t necessarily the case for all soldiers. Many begrudgingly do their service and count the days until they are released. Some even commit suicide, Minkyu said.

Minkyu liked doing the same job every day. As a human resources clerk, he was an expert in his position.

Even so, he encountered problems with the disconnect between military service and Korean society.

In his culture, Minkyu explained, age is everything. Someone even just a year or two older must be given the respect of an elder. But in the military, rank wins reverence.
Having grown up learning to respect elders, learning to respect people his own age in a position of authority was taxing. 

“I had problems between me and my superiors,” Minkyu said. “Age matters in Korea, but not in the military. Rank matters, so no matter what I was doing, whether I liked it or not, I had to do what they said ... You don’t stand up to them. There’s just a clear line you can never cross.”

There were bad days and good, Minkyu said, and inner struggles built in the time in between. He said he got through some of his tougher mental battles not by turning inward for reassurance, but to God.

“I’m a Roman Catholic,” Minkyu said as he fingered a white beaded bracelet on his left arm with a pearly cross at the center — a parting gift from his comrades and the only reminder of his service he brought back with him to the U.S. “I went to a Roman Catholic church while I was there and actually served as a Catholic officer. When things were bad, it gave me peace of mind.”

The 21 months felt both long and short to Minkyu when it was time to leave.

When he was officially discharged, he received a photo album and his cross bracelet from his officers. They threw him a small going-away party, and the next day he left.

He took a bus to Seoul, where his family is from, and lived for a month by himself in their old apartment.

“I was used to always being in a room with soldiers,” Minkyu said. “When we would turn the lights out at night, we would talk. Everyone sleeps together in one room. Then all the sudden, I was all alone. I was empty.”

Throughout that month, Minkyu considered re-enrolling in the military. He lived on that base almost as long as he had been in the U.S., and the intersection between his duty to finish his degree and the familiarity of home left him torn.

COMING BACK

When it’s time for students like Minkyu to re-enroll, they must re-establish international student status — yet another extensive process.

It involves meeting with another academic adviser, re-establishing status as an international student and re-instating any scholarships they were receiving prior to their departure.

Ratwatte said she works with students when they return to get back into classes and re-assimilate.

Returning students must prove their English proficiency — difficult for soldiers who have not spoken English in two years.

But beyond the paperwork, Ratwattee said getting used to the culture again is difficult, a fact she knows well as a former international student from Sri Lanka.

“I know how easy it is to stay with your pack,” Ratwattee said. “What’s comfortable, who speaks the same language, who understands you and goes through the same transitions as you. It’s very easy to do that. And to break out of it is very hard and very unique.”

RE-ADJUSTING

Minkyu still struggles with his English proficiency, but he gets better every day. As a junior and business student, he said he feels like he is sometimes too old to be at such a disadvantage.

“I hadn’t spoken a single word of English for two years,” Minkyu said. “I feel bad that I’m not able to speak to my proficient level. I tried to go to the career fair and it wasn’t good.”

In some ways, he said it feels like his military service was in his distant past. He is still surprised when he tells people he returned to the U.S. in August.

“I’ve only been back for ...” Minkyu paused as he counted on his fingers. “Wow, only three months,” he said at the time, which was in early November.

Since he has been back, he decided to take a full course load of 17 credits to try to catch up to where he was before he left. There is the added pressure of his age and finding a job after college.

Now, seven months removed from his time serving in the military, Minkyu has joined the Kelley Korean Finance Seminar, a club at the Kelley School of Business. He has gained confidence in his courses and has picked up a third major in technology management, in addition to his majors in finance and supply chain management.

He applied for summer internships and is patiently awaiting a response. If not, he’ll return to South Korea and complete an internship there.

As his senior year approaches, Minkyu said he feels ready.

“I’m actually really enjoying my accounting courses,” Minkyu said. “I’m feeling confident that for applications next fall, I will be able to get what I want, though I wasn’t able to last year.”

Though he’s spent considerable time regaining his bearings at IU, Minkyu maintains his time in the military wasn’t a waste. He learned critical skills, which he considers important for his future. He said he takes the good with the bad when it comes to his service.

“I think I actually improved by going into the army because I became more active,” Minkyu said. “I was shy before, and then I got to know more people. I learned not to procrastinate in the army.”

Most of Minkyu’s friends have moved on as well — either graduated or married — but Minkyu has merged his two worlds by bringing back an aspect of his service.

“I actually met my girlfriend now at the Catholic church here,” Minkyu said as a smile spread across his face. “I guess that time spent in the military paid off.”

TWO WORLDS MERGE

Everyone takes their seats as the priest enters the chapel. He walks along the wall of stained-glass windows toward the soft purple stage set with a wooden cross and a flowing fabric backdrop.

He speaks briefly with members of the choir and dons his purple robe for service at St. Paul’s Catholic Church.

Minkyu strides comfortably into his pew. Several of his peers turn around in the red cushioned booth ahead and chat with him in Korean about what is going on in their lives as finals approach, and about the free meal offered at the end of the service.

He laughs with them as he lays out his materials for church — a Bible and papers with song lyrics and announcements all in Korean.

Members of Bloomington’s Korean Roman Catholic community offer this Korean language service twice a month.

A girl in a striped sweater walks up to the podium as service officially begins. The audience falls into silence as she leans in to the microphone to give the day’s announcements. Her short ponytail bobs up and down as she speaks.

“That’s her, my girlfriend,” Minkyu said, pointing and waving to her on the stage. She smiles. “She’s great at this.”

Not long after, the priest begins the day’s message.

He tells the congregation they must prepare themselves both mentally and physically for hardships in their lives. It is imperative for them to deal with their sins.

He then steps back and invites them to sing.

Minkyu holds his leather bound Korean Bible and sings along under his breath in solidarity with the rest of the community he has gotten to know in the months since he has been back.

After the service is over, he waits among the pews for his girlfriend and helps clean up the materials from the service.

Together now, they walk to the church basement where they enjoy a meal of rice, kimchi and stewed vegetables.

They sit across from each other and laugh about inside jokes, mutual friends and a world entirely theirs.