Free Tengu by John Donohue

we offer young people something that they don’t seem to be able to find in civilian life . . . ” his voice took on a reflective tone for a moment. Then he snapped back to his usual crisp, efficiency. “We do fine, Dr. Burke.”
    The two recruiters stiffened to attention when Baker approached. Baker waved them back to their conversations with the kids.
    There was a spot at the bottom row center of the gym bleachers reserved for us. The four soldiers sitting there shot to attention when Baker approached. He went through the same wave routine and said, “As you were.” He didn’t introduce me and they didn’t ask who I was. But you could see them take a peek at me out of the corner of their eyes after I sat down.
    The soldiers on the bench were young and fit looking, with broad chests and narrow waists. They were wearing the new camouflage trousers known as ARPAT, Army Combat Uniform Pattern, and boots. They had on black T-shirts whose V-neck and sleeves were piped in gold. Their heads were shaved and they looked like a pack of attack dogs. They seemed impassive enough, but I’d have bet inside they were quivering with eagerness.
    I was sandwiched in between the Colonel and Hanrahan. I looked at the driver and nodded at the crowd in black shirts. “This the demo team, Sergeant?”
    “Yes sir,” he replied. He was a very serious young man. He had hands the size of shovels, with big broad fingers. Is that why he was a driver? I looked at his tunic and saw that he had jump wings like Baker, another one with a helicopter in the middle, and a third that looked like a flaming torch. His uniform’s left sleeve had small patches at the shoulder. One said “Ranger,” another “Special Forces.” Hanrahan didn’t say much, but he obviously had many skills—sort of an Army renaissance man.
    A fuzzy introduction boomed out of the PA system and I turned to watch the demonstration.
    It had been organized by a group of Korean martial arts schools in the area. The Koreans have been tremendously successful in propagating their version of karate in the U.S. Part of the success is due to the no-nonsense nature of their arts. Part of it’s because they’re shrewd businessmen.
    The Japanese sensei tend to look down on their Korean counterparts, and the feeling is mutual. There’s not much love lost between the two peoples. The Imperial Japanese government instituted a brutal colonization of Korea, and Korean resentment still smolders. The Koreans had been influenced by modern Japanese martial arts before the 1940s, but over the years had given them their own distinctive flavor. Part of it was driven by innovation, part by resentful nationalism.
    In any event, Korean empty-hand systems were built on a foundation that was at least partially Japanese, although the Koreans work hard at denying it. They have tons of different systems— tae kwon do, kang duk kwon, mu duk kwon, tang soo do —but when you watch them in action, it’s Korean karate. The stances differ a bit from the Japanese, there are minor stylistic variations, and they tend to use a lot more kicks. But it’s karate, one way or the other.
    Athletically, it’s pretty impressive. All that kicking requires a tremendous amount of energy. The young men and women who performed that day were strong and supple, and possessed tremendous physical ability. Their uniforms were very similar to the traditional Japanese gi , although some had black piping along the collars and sleeve ends. Other participants had opted for a more sporty pullover top with similar piping.
    They wore a rainbow of belt colors. Some had little stripes on the belt ends as well. The Koreans had learned that Americans loved the whole belt system, with its graphic representation of advancement. As a result, some schools had a seemingly endless series of belts or stripes that could be earned. The black belts tended to be embroidered with name and rank spelled out in gold thread. They wore patches and flags