January started off very quietly. I went to my bunk on the 31st of December and got up for reveille the next morning.  It was 1956.

Around the second week of January, when we arrived at the POL depot, the Sergeant took me and two other soldiers to the front of the supply area. There was some wood that was rotting away. We called them "runners"; the barrels were put on them and rolled along the wood and made three high. The Sergeant told me to have the soldiers put the wood on a truck and take it across the valley to the garbage dump. It did not take long. A rare privilege: I got to sit in the front of the truck with the driver. In a couple of minutes we were going down a dusty road to the dump.

We stopped the truck by some small trees. In front were many large holes. I am not sure how they were made. A few small trees lined the area in front of the holes, which were filled with trash. At the far left was a small shack made of cardboard. The soldiers decided to take a break after getting rid of the wood. They had a baseball they started to throw back and forth. That moment, I was looking straight ahead at one of the craters. As I looked, a small boy started to climb out. He looked straight at me and I looked straight into his eyes. He stopped for a moment or two, and he looked at me and the men with the baseball. The first thing I thought to myself was, I want to help this child.

What did I see? What did I see in his eyes? He walked by and went to the cardboard shack. As we went back to the depot I was thinking, What can I do?

When we arrived, I went to the left side of the break shack where our company commander had his office. I got permission to see him. After saluting him I said, "I saw this boy out in the garbage dump and I wanted to help him." He said, "Go ahead and have the rest of the day off." I got a ride back to Camp. The company commander told his driver to help me get places.

At the camp I went to the PX (Post exchange). I explained to the ladies (all French) that I wanted to buy clothes for a boy around eight years old. I motioned how tall I thought he was. So I got a shirt, trousers, underwear, etc. I went upstairs to my room, put his clothes on my foot locker, and got a towel, wash rag, and soap ready. After lunch the driver took me back to the garbage dump. Now how was I to get the boy? I did not even know his name. The driver parked the jeep a few feet from the cardboard shack. I got out and saw an older women standing next to the shack and a large open field that led to the forest. I asked her about the boy. Where was he? What was his name?

His name was Jean Claude Fourcat. At the moment he was in the woods looking for food (mushrooms?). Then he came across the field with another young man. I told the lady I wanted to take him to camp. As I put it in French, it was a holiday and I was inviting him. He came with me and I put him in back of the jeep. As he sat there flies were swirling around him and he smelled bad. The driver was not happy. When he took off, the breeze blew the flies away and we were on our way to camp.

Earlier I had seen Jean Claude come out of the trash crater. If I had been looking at the soldiers playing baseball - if I had been looking any other direction - I would have not looked into his eyes. There would have not been a story.

So here was Jean Claude in the jeep. The breeze blowing in got rid of all the flies that were around him. The driver (not a very happy soldier) arrived at camp and he let me off in front of our quarters. He would take us back after the supper meal. I took Jean Claude upstairs to my room, which was empty, as well as the whole floor. I explained to him that I was going to give him a bath. He took off his clothes and I wrapped a towel around him and took him to the shower stall on the other side of the hallway. There were three shower stalls. I got the water to a nice temperature and he went in. It did not take long for there to be a lot of dirt on the shower floor, so we went to the next stall. I kept washing. I decided to move him to the third stall, then I washed his hair. I looked at his feet. No way I could wash them; the dirt was caked on so bad it would take a knife to scrape it off. I wrapped him in the towel and took him to my room where he put on the new clothes I bought. They all fit.

I took him downstairs. The building next to our quarters had an Enlisted Men’s club then a barber shop. I left him at the barber shop. When he came out, what an amazing transformation! He was a whole new person. Then I took him to the snack bar next to the PX where I got his clothes. I ordered a meal for him and we sat down. I was surprised when he did not eat. No, it wasn't that he was not hungry. It was because he did not know what to do with a knife or fork... but he learned to use them very quickly. In all this time he never spoke one word.

After we ate I took him to the Service club at the end of the quarters. At that time the soldiers were eating supper. Jean Claude sat on a couch and I sat in another chair. I asked him a lot of questions; I wanted him to say something. Finally, when I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, he said, "A truck driver." The time came for me to get the driver. I had Jeans Claude’s dirty clothes in a bag and when I walked in the mess hall, I did not realize how bad it smelled. I was told as much when I got to where the driver was sitting. So back in the jeep again and we drove to the trash dump where we met the old lady and a couple of other young people on their way out. What a sight this was: A boy with new clothes and clean going with the group pulling this cart. We turned around and went back to the camp.

A few days after the meeting I went to Nemours to see Jean Claude. I met Mrs Bullet. It was late in the afternoon. She said to me, "Jean Claude has been seeing his mother." I told her to bring Jean to the kitchen. When he came she left us alone. Jean sat in a chair in front of me while I kept standing. I said to him, "Jean, Madam Bullet says you have been seeing your mother." I was not prepared for what happened next. He started crying, but a strong cry from the heart... He would not stop, so I said, "Jean, it's okay you are seeing your mother." Over and over I kept repeating those words. I thought he would not stop. When after a long time he stopped crying, I said, "Let's take a walk." It was dark now and the moon was out. We walked by the canal with a little fog rising from it, then I asked him, "Why did you cry when I said you were seeing your mother...?"  Then he looked at me and said, "Je vous aime mais je aime ma mere." I love you but I love my mother. In an instant I knew that I could never replace his mother. So we walked to town quietly. I took him to a shoe store and got him new shoes, then took him home.

A week later I got a letter from the Department Social of Nemours, which in part said, "Dear Mr. Meyer, some day you will get married and have children of your own. Release Jean to go back with his mother." Which of course I did...

The day came when I went to Nemours for the last time. I said goodbye to the Bullets and I told them I would stay in contact with them. Oh, where was Jean? He was out playing with his friends. As I walk on the sidewalk to go catch my train, there he was playing a game with his friends. I said goobye but I guess he did not hear me... I kept on walking. Jean had found his place.


Oct 18, 1958. UiJungbu Korea. Postcard from the Bullets. Jean's mother took him to Paris to live with a relative there.