"What is the basis for such a conclusion?"
"It's a deduction. With the post-war baby boom generation's consumption, global freight traffic has exponentially increased. The United States has to transport not only trade goods but also military supplies to Vietnam. It must be a nightmare."
"It's not that bad. Huhuhu."
"Is it really? If Japan helps, that might work, but Japan is busy exporting its own goods. For the U.S., focusing on the Atlantic route would be ten times, no, a hundred times better than the Asian route. They would need a shipping company to move goods to desired locations in the Pacific at low costs."
"For instance, Daese Shipping?"
Ah, they know Daese Shipping has entered the port of Portland.
It seems I've hit the mark.
"Is it just my wild imagination?"
"No, it's an astonishingly accurate analysis."
Anyone involved in plant operations, shipbuilding, or heavy industries would know what the shipping industry was like in the late 60s.
Until just before the first oil shock in 1973, the shipbuilding industry was experiencing a boom led by container ships, and charter rates and shipping rates soared crazily.
Even this was exactly repeated during the Lehman crisis.
"If you choose Daese Shipping, we'll be your best partner."
"Great. I hope Korea can cover logistics costs to the Middle East, Southeast Asia, and Taiwan at a shockingly low rate. Of course, it would be ideal if they had the strength left to cover North America as well. Oh, and don't forget Vietnam. We have our troops there."
It was a typical American way of thinking, making other countries handle dangerous and unprofitable tasks.
But for me, it's a good thing.
Even if the logistics costs are dramatically low, considering oil imports, military supplies for the U.S. military, and exports to North America, it's guaranteed to be profitable.
Most importantly, I would have a shipping company to operate.
Thinking about future growth, it's a necessary step.
"Dramatic, you say?"
"How about 70% of international shipping rates? In return, we'll join the Pacific Shipping Alliance."
"70%, huh..."
They want to cut the rates by 30% and include us in their shipping cartel.
"Allowing a new shipping company to join the alliance is dramatic in itself."
"Let me propose a truly dramatic condition. Maintain the current global rates for ten years. How does that sound?"
If we sign a long-term contract at current rates, it will ultimately be beneficial.
When the oil shock hits, freight traffic and shipping rates will plummet.
If we insist on the current rates, we'll end up not receiving the goods at the port, unable to unload the cargo, and paying hefty penalties.
"A ten-year contract at the current rates, we're on the same page."
"There's one crucial thing left. If you want us to do the job, shouldn't you give us the ships first?"
"You're mistaken. We've already provided a loan of 100 million dollars to Korea, so it's only right to buy the ships with that money."
"Buy the ships?"
"This is the time to spend the money. The Silverstein family will sell a 50,000-ton secondhand tanker for 15 million dollars and a 10,000-ton general cargo ship for 3.5 million dollars."
Typical Jewish calculation.
Since they lent us money, they want us to buy their goods.
"Fine. If you won't lease us the ships, I'll look into other options and get back to you."
"You're free to look around, but don't expect much. With charter rates skyrocketing, no other shipping company will help CS. Besides, CS neither has the money nor the time to order new ships."
Nancy seemed certain that I would end up buying the Silverstein family's ships.
She's pretending to help me, but it's actually a meticulously planned move.
As a top member of the Jewish family, Nancy knows that within a year or two, Israel will start a war in the Middle East, and the Suez Canal will be blocked.
When that happens, tankers under 80,000 tons that can pass through the Suez Canal will become worthless.
If the Suez Canal is blocked, it's much more profitable to use large tankers over 200,000 tons to go around the Cape of Good Hope.
The Silverstein family is now busy selling their existing ships at high prices and must have already ordered giant tankers over 200,000 tons somewhere.
In the shipping industry, like in gambling, those who know the information first make the big money.
'Nancy, you're not the only one who knows this information. I know more and more accurately than you.'
Buying a ship now would make me the biggest fool.
"Let's finalize the contract for a ten-year operation and joining the Pacific Shipping Alliance. We can add a special clause that if we buy ships, we will prioritize purchasing from the Silverstein family at the same price."
"Humph, if you want to make unnecessary efforts, I won't stop you. Just remember, I won't wait long."
Nancy signed the contract I had drafted and left the VIP room swiftly.
Cornering me and getting the contract she wanted was typical of the Silverstein family.
It would be quite a sight to see them push Japan to extract compensation for civil claims against Japan. They've entrusted the job to the right person.
After all, it's delightful to see a rival targeted instead of me.
"You must be stressed. Have a drink."
As soon as Nancy left, Van Flint got up from his seat and made me a Jack and Coke at the bar.
"Thank you."
"Don't worry too much. I can give you about a 20% discount on the ship prices. Honestly, not many shipping companies would want to operate on such risky and low-profit routes."
It's much more profitable for the U.S. to focus on the Atlantic.
But for Korea in Asia, even such routes are a blessing. We can't move the land, can we?
"I need to get a ship."
I'm serious. This is the chance to get a ship.
Besides repairing and operating Daese 1, we need at least four more ships to handle long-distance routes from the Middle East to North America.
We also need to allocate one ship to smuggle goods from Vietnam.
Now is the opportunity.
Historically, Hyeonsan's Ulsan Shipyard succeeded greatly, while Okpo Shipyard, which started construction a few years later, failed because the oil shock hit just as they were about to complete the ships.
If we decide to build a shipyard along with the shipping business, we shouldn't miss this chance.
When the Vietnam War intensifies and the U.S. influence in the Middle East is solidified, securing the route will make a lot of money.
"Even if you look elsewhere, they won't sell cheaper than Silverstein. They are a family with a huge appetite for money, but they don't cheat. Given the current economy, it's profitable to buy ships quickly and run them a lot."
Van Flint gave me calm advice.
He's absolutely right.
If I didn't know this place.
"Take a look at this."
I handed Van Flint the inner paper of the cigar box.
"What am I looking at?"
"Look at the picture and the words here."
"Mothball Fleet, Suisun Bay"
Four words were written above a picture of a ship.
In our language, it means 'Mothball Fleet, Suisun Bay.'
"Damn... Who gave you this high-level information..."
Van Flint was speechless for a while.
To be precise, it seemed Van Flint realized something after seeing the inner paper.
The Mothball Fleet is a reserve fleet of decommissioned naval and transport ships that the U.S. Navy keeps for emergency wartime use.
Although it's called a reserve fleet, it's basically a collection of scrap ships.
It's only known that they are scattered across the U.S., but the exact location is a secret. And it's in Suisun Bay near San Francisco.
In my past life, I rarely traveled abroad, but one of those few places was near San Francisco. What a coincidence.
"Who else could it be? Godell. He might have earned his stars by now."
I found it by chance.
A few days before departure from Korea, while packing, I thought of giving the cigar box to General Van Flint and saw the inner paper.
"That rascal earned his stars because of you, I see. Helping you this much, it all makes sense. Haha."
"Help is reciprocal. It's not likely that you'll ever need my help, General, but if you do, I'll show you what an alliance means. Please help me this time."
I earnestly requested his help.
I can't spend a fortune on buying ships.
After a brief silence, Van Flint spoke.
"Alright. Go to Suisun Bay. There should be... Ah, what was it? Right, there should be ships under the Liberian flag. Take them."
"Liberia?"
Is it a tax haven?
That's strange. Normally, ships use the Panama flag for tax evasion.
"There is such a thing. Go find it. Other ships have had their engines and main parts removed, but the Liberian ships should be usable. Probably..."
There must be a story behind it.
Let's find out.
"Thank you. I'll make good use of it."
"You'll have to pay the scrap value to the city. Of course, fixing it up is your responsibility. I'll take care of the rest. Just take it quietly."
"I'll repay this favor someday."
"Forget it. This cigar box is enough."
Van Flint, as if it was nothing, took the cigar box and left the VIP room.
He must mean
to hurry.
Okay, thank you, Van Flint.
"Assistant Secretary!"
"Yes, sir."
"Stop working. Let's go shopping."
I called out loudly to the assistant secretary as I left the VIP room.
The party was winding down, so the business meeting was over.
"Shopping? We need to review the contract at the lodging..."
"We're in America. We have to go shopping."
I led Assistant Secretary Yeom to the parking lot. I planned to drive to San Francisco in the rented car from the hotel.
Since Assistant Secretary Yeom hadn't drunk Jack and Coke, I asked him to drive.
"Where are we going?"
"San Francisco, to Suisun Bay."
I opened the map book and pointed it out to him.
"Going far for shopping."
He was puzzled as I pointed to Suisun Bay, but he fastened his seatbelt and got into the driver's seat.
"If we're going, let's pick something pretty, haha!"
"Something pretty?"
"Oh, let's pick up Captain Yoon Sang-soo on the way."
"Gasp! Could it be, a merchant ship?"
Assistant Secretary Yeom immediately understood when I mentioned taking Captain Yoon Sang-soo along.
"I can't deny it, haha."
"Hoho, we better hurry."
Suddenly, Assistant Secretary Yeom's voice was full of excitement.
We picked up Captain Yoon Sang-soo and drove south.
After more than half a day of driving, we finally reached the outskirts of San Francisco and stayed at a cheap hotel for the night.
I was too excited to sleep easily.
***
The next day, Suisun Bay, on the outskirts of San Francisco.
We woke up early, had coffee and toast for breakfast, and drove out.
"This is Suisun Bay."
"It's completely different from San Francisco."
We were used to the silhouette of New York skyscrapers and the Hollywood movies of America, but the reality was different. Even more so in the 60s.
"Indeed."
It was my first time in Suisun Bay as well.
Instead of the cold, refreshing sea breeze typical of San Francisco, there was a fishy oil smell in the air.
The water was a murky yellowish-brown color.
Ding ding.
"Excuse me."
The only buildings around were shabby restaurants, so we went inside.
In a new town, it's best to order food at a restaurant and ask around.
It's no different in America.
"Yes?"
An old man with a huge build and a shaggy beard appeared at the sound of the door opening.
If he were wearing leather, he would look like he was riding a Harley Davidson.
He didn't seem interested in taking orders.
Instead of a menu, he was holding a beer bottle.
Beer in the morning... impressive.
"I'm new here..."
"If you're here for food, you've come to the wrong place. Get out."
"I'll buy that beer for 10 dollars."
"What, what?"
"I'll buy the beer you're holding for 10 dollars. Then, can I ask a question?"
I slipped a bill into the old man's top pocket. In this era, 10 dollars is a good amount.
"Huh, a Jap who knows how to deal."
"If you bring me new beers, I'll buy them for 20 dollars each. Of course, for the number of people."
"Fine, wait."
The old man opened a shabby fridge and took out three beer bottles with one hand, placing them on the table with a thud.
"Thank you. And I'm not a Jap, I'm Korean."
"Doesn't matter. What do you want to know? If you're thinking of investing in land around here, forget it. You can't farm, fish, and all the residents have left. There's not even a drug dealer. If you want to make money, go over to San Francisco. Here, there's nothing but piles of rotting scrap metal. No money, no honor, nothing! Damn it!"
The old man, who seemed determined to get his money's worth for the three beers, started talking endlessly.
"Oh, that's different from what I heard. I heard this was where the heroes of the ghost fleet were."
Mothball fleet, the reserve fleet, is also called the ghost fleet.
"What, ghost fleet? Where did you hear that nonsense!"
The old man suddenly yelled in anger.
There must be something. We're on the right track.
Well, there must be a story if someone is guarding an empty place like this.