I know what tear gas smells like. It smells like nothing but it also smells like pain. It’s as if a burning sensation became a smell, as if a smell was a thousand ant bites in your lungs, nose and skin or if a smell could be a representation of a combination of inhaling ramen powder and minced garlic.

This is not an experience that I share with a lot of people because most people, both strangers and friends, don’t generally ask what tear gas smells like. It’s not a subject that’s on most people’s social repertoire and if it was, I'd probably excuse myself from continuing a conversation with that individual. Nor can I think of a situation where I can organically bring up this fact on a Hinge date or a party without labeling myself as a weirdo.

Because how do you explain such an event to someone? How do you explain that you have citizenship in a country that has thrown roughly half its population in a cramped room filled with tear gas just so we can experience what that’s like? How do you explain the stomach-dropping sensation of being told to take your gas mask off, using your hands that have already begun to burn? And how do you explain why you know that tear gas does amazing things for nasal congestion?

Photo from the South Korean bootcamp. I can be seen in the bottom right.
(Photo courtesy of the South Korean Air Force bootcamp)

It seems almost paradoxical that First World countries with advancement in technology and business can still force their citizens to these frankly archaic conditions. South Korea has one of the best public transportation systems in the world, a health care system that actually makes sense and the lines at our version of the DMV take 30 minutes to an hour to get through without an appointment. Yet I also know the smell of tear gas.

Mandatory military service is a term that for most college students in America, could probably elicit imagery from a time long ago, when drafted soldiers were dying in Vietnam and California Dreamin’ was playing on the radio. Yet for some students it is an inescapable reality that haunts their school years. Four of the 10 most populated international student groups from the Fall 2022 student population at USC came from a country with mandatory service. Two of the 10 came from a country with a selective service system, where candidates for military service are chosen intentionally by the government. Examples of selective services in the world include the United State’s Selective Service System where all male citizens and male immigrants between the age of 18 and 25 can be drafted to military service through authorization by the President and Congress.

This reflects a larger trend in the United States where over a million international students attend some form of higher education. Out of the top eight most populated international student populations in America, 3 groups come from a country with mandatory military service with over 40,000 students from South Korea and over 20,000 students each from Taiwan and Vietnam. Moreover, the most populated group with nearly 300,000 students comes from China, which employs a de jure system where mandatory conscription is legal but not enforced.

This process can be a long and arduous journey for many, taking up to two years for some, depending on several factors such as the countries’ and specific military branch’s rules. I did my mandatory military service for 21 months starting in 2021, interrupting my college experience at the University of Southern California. Now while I have finished my service and returned to my old campus, I, like many others, have come to realize that the place I used to call home no longer resembles the place I knew.

My incursion into my mandatory military service began later than most. As someone with dual citizenship I was debating whether I should go in the first place. I would have been able to avoid my service if I simply didn’t return to Korea until the age of 35, which was when I could apply to get rid of my citizenship. Ultimately, the benefits of being able to see my family and remaining connected to one of the countries I deemed as my home was too strong for me to deny my draft notice.

Bootcamp graduation.
(Photo courtesy of the South Korean Airforce bootcamp)

The military is not an experience that I would recommend to everyone, especially those who come from a deeply academic background. The jarring experience of going from writing college reading responses to learning these intense smells (my nose is familiar with gunpowder, too) is an adjustment not everyone is equipped to handle. For me, the first couple of months through both bootcamp and deployment was a period of intense mental and physical stress that accumulated in sleepless nights and anxiety about my surroundings.

I eventually was able to adjust and even ascended to the rank of a squadron leader, the highest position attainable for a conscripted soldier in my battalion of more than 100 20-year-olds. Overall my experience in the military was a period of growth and reflection as I was able to expose myself to people from various walks of life, whose only reason for intermingling was due to a war that began several decades ago.

Yet as I continued to grow as a person within the confines of my military base, so too did the rest of the world. My peers would post their graduation photos while I patrolled a fenced off military base. I spent Christmas and New Year’s guarding a gate that only opened for the officers enjoying the holidays, while the people I had grown to love spent their holidays with one another. Then came the even more painful graduation photos of my friends who had joined USC a full year after me. By the time I came back to school, nearly everyone I had known had already left USC behind.

Feeling lost, I decided to walk around campus before the start of my final school semester in order to refamiliarize myself with the environment. That was when I learned that they had dismantled my freshman year dormitory. Trojan Hall was a dirty, badly maintained dorm that for some reason always had the ability to summon the worst behaviors in its tenants. It had also been my home for a year. It was the home where I had begun my journey of independence from my family as a college student, and now it was just a concrete floor with no indication that there had once stood a building.

Trojan Hall then. (Photo by Mia Speier/courtesy of the Daily Trojan)

Trojan Hall now. (Taken on my iPhone)

My classes are now populated by students who were freshmen and high schoolers before I had left. I’m at least two years older than my peers. Organizations I have poured my time and effort into in the past are now under completely new leadership, with members who have begun to create their own history. I am now a ghost whose memory comes from a time on campus that no longer exists, walking through a school that wears the cloak of a familiar friend.

Sangwon Cha’s journey into his military career began right after freshman year of college. This was earlier than he had initially planned to go as evidenced by the fact that he had submitted a hold for his draft until he would finish college. However, after his first year, Sangwon developed a desire to simply face the inevitable sooner than later.

“Right after I finished my freshman year, I came back [to Korea] with the intent of going into the military because I just wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. I asked [the military] to withdraw that hold… a few weeks later, I was able to get my draft letter,” explained Sangwon.

Sangwon shaving his head right before entering bootcamp.
(Photo courtesy of Sangwon Cha)

Due to some health complications, Sangwon did not serve in active combat but was rather assigned to public service work. While he still had to endure basic training, his ultimate deployment was based around working at a daycare center for people with special needs. It is a common tactic for the South Korean government to assign people with minor health complications in roles supplementing the workforce such as social service or transportation work instead of deploying them in a more conventional military environment.

While these environments may not be as physically taxing, the jobs still come with their own pressures. Sangwon recounted an incident at the daycare center revolving around one of the special needs kids who was struck with a sudden seizure.

“At that exact, precise moment he started to have a seizure and then he lost his balance and fell face first. There was blood everywhere because his teeth had torn open his lips and half of his front teeth were gone. I’ve never seen so much blood in my life before that incident."

Eventually he was able to enlist the help of another employee to contact the kid’s parents to take him to the hospital.

“The [kid] was freaking out, right? We had brought the security guards to restrain him because he wouldn’t sit still… the whole process was so stressful to me because I never had to go through that kind of experience.”

Part of the problem revolved around the fact that he had received minimal training for his role. Sangwon recounted that he only received a week of official training after he had served for two months in his deployment.

“They taught us about the different kinds of disabilities [and] the different kinds of social welfare that was available [to these families],” he said. “That was the only formal training that we received. It was mostly learning on the job.”

Ultimately after his 18-month service, Sangwon returned to USC to face a similar kind of struggle. He realized he had spent the last year and a half adjusting to a new environment and now he would have to go through the painful process again.

“I was able to get through classes but socially it felt like I had to start from scratch because by the time I came back, many people I knew had graduated,” said Sangwon. “Being an introvert, I didn't have an easy time trying to make connections. Socially I was isolated for quite a bit so I think it took about a year to just overcome the mental distress.”

Sangwon has since become one of the presidents of USC's Korean-American Scientists and Engineers Association.
(Photo courtesy of USC KSEA's instagram)

While Sangwon has now found a community through social organizations such as the USC Korean-American Scientists and Engineers Association, the process itself took a mental toll on his psyche.

Sangwon’s advice for those who may be going through a similar ordeal was to be patient with the process of readjustment.

“I’d say this in retrospect It’s going to be okay. I feel like I’m in a much better mental state than I was during that readjustment period and you just have to let time do its magic. Persevering through that hard process requires a lot of patience. I think patience is the most important thing.”

Micah Chow, who has asked that none of his personal photos be used due to privacy concerns from the Singaporean military, began his two-year deployment right after high school as a platoon commander in the Singaporean Army. This process took a year of basic training followed by a position as an officer who led his fellow conscripts. Since the enlistment period in Singapore is two years for all conscripts, Micah felt that an officer position would be more beneficial in the long term.

“The training was tough, but ultimately I wanted to make the most out of the two years. I felt that being an officer [would help] me gain a lot of experiences and life lessons,” Micah said.

Through his position as an officer, Micah was tasked with more managerial duties that included writing reports and proposals that helped him prepare for his work life outside of the military. However, while Micah felt that his position as an officer equipped him with essential skills such as critical thinking and prioritizing physical health, the transition back into college would still prove to be a jarring process.

“It was somewhat of a cold start to get back to college. I put a lot of pressure on myself to keep up with readings during freshman year,” said Micah.

This transition period was further hampered by his status as an international student at USC.

“I was re-adjusting myself in a new country and it was the pandemic wwhen I first came over. My parents didn’t come over with me to settle in … so I did everything mostly myself.”

Moreover, Micah also had to deal with the large age gap between himself and his peers. Now 23, Micah will be two to three years older than his graduating peers despite graduating early as a junior.

“There was a bit of a maturity gap. I had to mingle with freshmen at first for awhile,” he said “You just realize that they cannot fulfill the same emotional needs. So I [would] be giving advice [but I didn’t] really have people to talk about [my] own needs.”

Ultimately, Micah was able to overcome this issue by reaching out to other upperclassmen through upper division classes and extracurricular organizations. He said his activities in the Singapore Student Association and the Annenberg Media newsroom provided him with people he could better connect with.

“I participate[ed] in the day-to-day of my school to get to know other upperclassmen, like in [my] classes or clubs or extracurriculars. I found my constant group of friends [from] those spaces,” Micah said.

Micah’s advice for others going through similar ordeals was to use their military experience to gain a connection with others. While some people may view their service as an obstacle that may disconnect them with fellow peers, Micah viewed it as an opportunity to share interesting stories for those he would befriend.

“Having that unique experience of being in the military is something of interest for [other people] in a sense that you have this different edge that you can share. [It’s] a different kind of perspective you can take going into classes… or your relationships in general,” Micah said.

One question I was asked consistently by my peers and superiors in the military was why are you here? Many were puzzled as to why I chose to enter the Korean military when I had the ability to hide in the United States until I turned 35 to avoid my service. To those people I have one answer. I honestly don’t know.

Ultimately, my time in the military would prove to be a period full of introspection. It was partially due to the fact that I had a host of new experiences to process but also because I was given long periods of time where I would be standing guard over an armored humvee through ungodly hours of the night with minimal human interaction. It was through this period of my life that I came to the realization that I wanted to pursue a career in law. Being part of the Military Police Battalion instilled a strong desire to protect others and I realized the best way to protect my fellow journalists was through learning the law. I also realized that being able to recite the Miranda Rights in Korean would also be a cool party trick that may only work on law school nerds.

While I can’t in good conscience recommend the Korean mandatory military service to anyone, it was still an experience that allowed me to grow as an individual in ways that I never could have if I had stayed in the States.

My last night before retiring. I can be found on the bottom-center right.
(Taken on my iPhone)