Today. Today Again.

By Michelle Lee Ford

From a first-hand perspective, Michelle Lee Ford provides a gripping account of daring property projects led by two enterprising businessmen with very little capital. The title 'Today and Today Again' lends from Native American lore where unproductive days are returned to and re-lived to meet the goals of the tribe. This is a central and importa

• Language: English
• Publisher: Front Communications
• Release date: Apr 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9780645734218

Michelle Lee Ford

Michelle Lee Ford is based in the UK and features in this story as the wife of Ethan Ford, a key member in the described business partnership. She completed this remarkable story over five years with the encouragement of her family who insisted this story must be told.

Book preview

In 1947 Clement Archer, a decorated US war veteran left home in Nebraska for a diplomatic posting to Korea. It was set to be a short-term posting as an observer and liaison officer.

His wife Mildred, while still relieved at her husband’s safe return from WWII, supported his return to service. While she was used to his absences and missed the idea of a husband, he was barely a companion. Since returning from the war he was restless. He often stayed away from their home despite the longing of his teenage daughter, Milly, who had prayed for him every night during the war.

When he returned, his Army discharge papers arrived, confirming his country had no further use for him. However, he didn’t want to return as a Post Office clerk. In 1942 Clement signed on to join the Army get away from a clerical career trap and wouldn’t ever go back. Now at home and unemployed, nights out with his former Army buddies were saturated with drink. He scowled at the young veterans pawing at local girls and hoped Milly was safe at home.

Clement felt and acted like a stranger in his home. Milly often confided to her mother that she liked the concept of a father, compared to the newly re-introduced father-stranger. Mildred normally cleared away empty bottles of hooch every morning and her formerly vital husband slept until the afternoon.

Mildred was relieved when Clement’s former Colonel personally called by their home for a walk and a chat. Clement later explained the Colonel was looking for men to take up a peacekeeping type of post in Korea where there were escalating political tensions.

He told Mildred when he would be leaving. She turned away, unhappy, but relieved.

He flew to New York for briefings a week later then to Seoul. Just for three months he told Mildred and Milly, but if it was a good posting he already knew his answer to any requests for extension.

He kept in touch by post over the next couple of years and returned once for Milly’s high school graduation in 1948. There the stranger-husband-father smiled for the family portrait.

Despite all of the tensions with the threat of war in Korea, a sharp event rocked him in 1949. He received a telegram explaining his wife had been killed in a car crash. Further information steadily arrived. She was a passenger in her car, with the recruiting Colonel dead beside her in the driver’s seat. Found at 1am. Weather and road conditions weren’t explanations for the crash or the circumstances.

Milly Archer was staying with new friends at the time of the crash. Clement couldn’t recognise the family’s name and didn’t know anyone in the suburb. Clement quickly headed home, suppressing thoughts of his background role in the death of his wife.

After the funeral and with the sales process for their home in good hands, he flew back to the only place with purpose - Korea. Beside him was his inconsolable, withdrawn daughter. She had attended bible studies when she was young and knew a few religious concepts. Was this hell?

When settled in their small apartment in Seoul, Milly resigned to staying a few weeks. At nineteen she wanted to work and meet people and pressured her father to find her an English-speaking job. Milly wanted control over money and her life, with the means to leave when she could.

During the first month, her father eventually became better company, but she was lonely and demanded a job or she would find a way home. Clement asked her to be patient. A job at the US Embassy was firming.

Boys still wrote to her from home. They included little black and white photos posed to look like movies stars. However, these boys weren’t going to visit or join her here. She received a further letter by a correspondent addressed to Milly as his sweetheart. She couldn’t remember a sweetheart or this commitment. In the letter he asked whether she was proud he was now in uniform.

She folded these letters away. If uniform was what she wanted, there seemed to be plenty of US military men around Seoul these days.

In late 1949, Smoky Ford took a posting as a Military Policeman at Sheppard Air Base, Texas.

Aged 25 and already a veteran from the European war campaigns, Smoky barely had time to taste the dusty air. An Army unit was processing through Sheppard for a short mission to the Korean peninsula. Something about ‘keeping a check on the Commies’, they were told. Smoky observed huge transport planes arriving at Sheppard with their massive whirring propellers, waving in welcome.

Now within the rumbling aircraft cavity, dark, ribbed, and hot like a whale interior, Smoky didn’t expect trouble. When the recruits saw his prominent MP arm sash and military baton they returned to sleep. Most of the military human cattle snuffled in the lightly rocking high altitude transport to Seoul. One or two recruits remained awake and stared at their escort. Was this guy a redskin?

The soldiers weren’t just wary of the olive-skinned MP, who was lightly teased as Smoky. When they arrived, questions spread among them. A massive tent camp was being constructed in front of them near the airport. This urgent mass accommodation effort meant they weren’t expected a few days earlier. What was escalating? Smoky too, a former WWII soldier, was wary about their supposed peacekeeping role.

Smoky watched as big-bellied transport planes landed. Out of their cavities he heard the rumble as Sherman tanks rolled out and wriggled their cannons up and around, like basketballers warming up. Large trucks were busy too. Heavy munitions were unloaded, with camouflage webbing rolled over and cradling in comfort. Hour by hour this looked more like advanced war preparations than a peacekeeping mission.

They all waited for orders. Looking about, Smoky worried about the quality of these recruits. Their training drills were average. If there was serious battle, it would be a short skirmish with dog tags posted home. A couple of young kids in baggy uniforms approached and looked across at increasing banks of tanks, munitions and army ambulances. Hey Smoky, what Korean shit is about to fly?

In 1950 after the outbreak of the Korean War, the Army issued Smoky a rifle and he was back in combat. About two months after Smoky looked over the scenes at the airport, he passed one of the Sherman tanks, with dead crew splayed on the ground like spokes of a wheel. The men were sliced up and their boots and watches taken. The tank had a clean shell hole in the front. The cannon was snapped off. It lay stiff.

He’d served in Europe with the US Army and the fight there to liberate France felt a just cause. The French and Dutch villagers cheered them as the Germans were routed. Here in Korea, it was now a civil war, with Koreans hacking each other up towards extinction with any weapon they could find. Garden tools were common and effective weapons.

Smoky was a Wichita native American with no affiliation to this new war. He remembered his father’s words, You carry the feather of your tribe. You need to ask to cross new territory and with good reason. He’d been asked to escort troops only and he didn’t belong in this war. He wandered warily across Korea with his unit.

On a short leave break back at his base near Seoul, he wrote to his former commander in the US to explain he’d fulfilled his role to escort the soldiers to Korea from Sheppard. He was ready to return. This wasn’t granted, but he had a new post. Further security was needed at the US Embassy.

Milly Archer stayed on in Korea, now 20. She was quickly learning Korean and worked as an interpreter in the US Embassy. Initially she could see there wasn’t really a role for her and she mainly cleaned and filed. But she discovered a skill with language and she was becoming more useful. Her father worked upstairs and was kindly with their home always full of food and gifts, but scant company.

One day the olive-skinned military guard warned her about rocket attacks around the city, with more expected. The US embassy would be a prime target. When a shell landed a few blocks away from the embassy Smoky was asked to quickly walk her home, wait and guard the door.

The embassy staff called her the next day and told her to stay at home until she felt safe. Rockets were landing in Seoul more regularly and there was a mania of panic and disorder. The embassy was under siege and she stayed home. Smoky wouldn’t leave her side.

Three months later, Milly expected she was very likely pregnant and very likely in love. There was news from the Embassy. Her father was missing. Also, the handsome MP hadn’t been seen at the embassy gate for many weeks either.

Smoky lived with Milly, as more than her protector, with Seoul under waves of attacks from the north. In early 1951, when her belly became proof of their pregnancy, he emerged quietly and approached the local Army padre. They were married later that week. Milly accepted her growing belly and no honeymoon. Her father was missing and her mother was dead. No boys wrote to her anymore.

Then her new husband was seized by a Korean police patrol while walking to seek food. The local patrol didn’t understand his story about his role providing essential security for a US diplomat’s daughter. Seoul was in chaos and the soldiers spoke little English. He was delivered to a US Army unit as a suspected deserter and immediately sent into combat.

In 1951 Milly grew big with the baby. Her father eventually returned to their home, following injury from an aerial attack. He’d been cared for in secret by a family while North Korean troops had swarmed around the country. He had been absent for nearly six months. Disappointment added to his injury at the sight of Milly’s obvious condition. He was curious about a supposed marriage with no husband present. He knew soldiers abroad were not the most reliable match. It was time again to a re-locate Milly. With a temporary lull in the fighting, a couple of nosy US senators were due to tour Korea and lodge in the embassy suites. Milly was sent to a safe haven in the country. A midwife was promised.

Her country lodgings near a bamboo forest were basic, but solace after the chaos of Seoul. Although back in Seoul the senators came and went, she was not invited back. With severe battles breaking out she also had limited ability to contact her husband. Her father was distant.

Then one day the phantom labour pains seemed real. Her baby boy was born just before dawn and an exhausted Milly looked out over her suckling infant as large waving birds flew over and over, with many hovering and calling.

Milly and Smoky had agreed names for the baby on their wedding night, whether a boy or girl. Ethan would learn to walk and name every animal in English and Korean before any news of his father.

1952 – Korea

After 18 months of patchy contact, Smoky was found and then transported to the village on compassionate leave. He was near skeletal, with his service watch gathering loosely on his wrist. His nose was broken and he had many facial scars from beatings after being captured by North Korean soldiers. He was repeatedly tortured, which worsened when he broke down, explaining he’d worked as a security officer at the US Embassy.

One night, Smoky narrowly survived execution when there was a sudden bombing and shelling offensive by the US Army. Earlier his captors were planning to move and their prisoners held no further intelligence value. Under ferocious attack the men turned their arms from the prisoners to save their own positions and their lives. After many casualties the weakened North Korean detachment agreed to a prisoner swap, and Smoky was helped onto a US Army transport truck.

He was eventually taken to the village and cried in a long embrace with Milly, explaining he had never given up on returning to her, to meet his child, and become a family. Milly smiled. Family? After a couple of false starts, it was time to see about family.

Milly then ran into the near bamboo forest to call Ethan.

For her it was a reunion. For Ethan it was an introduction to his father-stranger.

1930s – Waco, Texas

Samuel Junior (Smoky) Ford was raised on an Indian reservation near Waco, Texas in the 1930s. As he grew and became more inquisitive, his grandfather explained their native American lore, particularly their relationship with nature and the spiritual world. His also learned other uncomfortable modern lore too. Too early in his life, Samuel knew he was different. He was called an ‘Indjun’ outside of the reservation and Waco parents took their children inside if Samuel and his friends approached to join in their games.

But insults and rejection weren’t the real threat to Samuel’s childhood. School-age Samuel was due to be absorbed into the Indian Boarding School institution to assimilate him into white culture, as they had tried with his father and grandfather. While Texas wasn’t the main target of the ‘Kill the Indian, save the Man’ policy, the threat of police arrival in the reservation to seize school age children was real. His parents and grandfather maintained a wary watch at the gate, but most police visits were to baton drunk men.

At his reservation school he further learned his culture and traditional craftwork along with a respect for all humankind. His father also explained, We’re a nation now only in name and our spirits are scattered, but we need to understand the white man and their ways. You can be a brave, but in different ways. His father, Samuel senior, was an example. Somewhere way back his family were called Tomahawk within their Wichita tribe. Now his father adopted the surname ‘Ford’ to help his family’s cause in mainstream USA as they needed a life outside of the reservation.

Around 1940 Samuel Junior Ford joined a local building company where his father worked, swapping wood and twine craftwork for hammer and nails. He joined at a good time with many Government funded building projects across Texas. His boss admired his dedication and precision. He asked Samuel’s father whether there was an army of Samuel Junior’s back in the reservation. Samuel was always on time. He didn’t drink or smoke and more importantly he didn’t ask for a raise.

Then, in 1943, two events shaped the next phase of Smoky’s adult life.

Grassfires were common across the reservation, with evening parties and moonshine around campfires. Sometimes small grassfires would harmlessly ignite and fade. In the late winter in 1943, a grassfire took hold from a smouldering campfire and fluky early morning winds spread fingers of wildfire towards the main settlement. Smoky was away, working near Dallas. But his family was asleep in their wooden home and his parents and grandfather perished in their beds.

He suffered the long vigils and funerals as he farewelled the spirits of this life. The men who had left the campfire to burn out fled into local towns begging for arrest before they were killed. Community life and trust broke down.

His devastated boss encouraged him to return to work and offered Samuel a room in an old workers lodge at the back his house. Grateful and without alternatives Samuel took the lodgings and cooked for himself, politely declining the offer of dinner with the family.

Then Jeremiah (Jerry), his boss’s son, returned home after abandoning university studies in LA. Jerry went to work with his father to recover his finances. Most nights he sat with Samuel recounting his days at university. He barely mentioned study. Samuel listened quietly thinking of the departing spirits of his family and wishing for a new direction.

Hey, Sam, Jerry asked, Are you registered for the draft? Or did they forget you at the reservation? Europe’s at war again. The bombings in Hawaii have stirred things up too.

The draft, you mean like the Army?

Yep. Into the service of Uncle Sam. Although I understand he wouldn’t seem like much of an uncle figure to you.

Samuel found a rare laugh but thought of his father’s guidance, ‘how can we fight their enemy when we are treated like their enemy?’ Yet here was a chance to escape the reminders of his pain. His father told him their spirits were scattered and in the new world, young braves should carry their feather to new places, if their spirit was called.

Jerry expanded on his thinking. I’m thinking of putting the odds of being called up aside. I am thinking of enlisting.

Early the next Saturday morning Jerry and Samuel left quietly, with the house occupants sleeping. Samuel left behind a letter of thanks and painted feather for his boss as a gift.

Via the Dallas recruitment office they were sent to Atlantic City for basic training. The young brave was separated from Jerry as Army Divisions were assigned. Without his friend he was shipped on a converted cruise liner to Europe. In common GI uniform all the recruits looked the same and it suited the quiet, mournful Injun to fit in.

In 1944 their battalion made progress through France as reinforcements after the Omaha landing. Although losses were heavy, his commander commented on Ford’s continued ferocity and fearlessness. One time his unit was crossing a bridge near the German border when it was attacked by gunfire and blown up simultaneously. Smoky emerged battered and the only survivor. His commander signed papers. This was to be the last proof of Cpl. S. Ford’s assumed immortality. He was posted behind the lines to help with security and management of supply delivery to the combat units.

From the barracks at night Smoky looked upwards at the passing restless clouds, witnessing recumbent faces in their peaceful slumber. In the clouds he looked for the faces of his parents and grandfather.

Back safely in the USA in late 1945, he checked back on Waco life. He visited his first boss with the building company. He learned Jerry had been involved in an atomic project in Utah and was now a US Army General. Smoky also drove by the reservation gates but heard fluttering wings and light hissing sounds. Was it a charge? Had be abandoned his tribe? He had no home base, so Smoky drifted around Texas and the near states working casually as a builder. He mostly slept in a tent around the countryside just off the road and near waterholes. After a few years of drifting, he again sought Uncle Sam in the late 1940s. While he’d initially needed the solitude, this turned to loneliness and too much reflection.

As a re-enlisted soldier, now turned MP, he was sent to Sheppard and then Korea in 1950. There he eventually met Milly at the US Embassy gates. They locked eyes and smiled.

1952 – remote Korea

In the remote Korean village across 1952 and 1953 the reunited Ford family slowly forged.

Earlier in Seoul in 1950, Milly, a lonely and frightened diplomat’s daughter needed Smoky’s security and company. Since her time in the village as a mother living happily and independently, she now wanted Smoky to survive for Ethan’s sake. With Smoky now here she needed to get to know her husband. Could she develop feelings again? She wondered whether this was her mother’s experience too.

After Smoky’s arrival it was weeks before Ethan would move from his mother’s bed. Ethan eventually reduced his protection of Milly, but he still asked from time to time, When is Papa leaving?

Smoky regained his strength and verve, which was much needed to manage his energetic son. Most nights Smoky would walk Ethan around their village for hours, as he marvelled at the stars, clouds, and the noises of domesticated and wild animals. Our son will only be happy when he is pacing around outside, Smoky remarked to Milly. At night too while walking about, Smoky would pass down many stories from native American lore. Ethan looked upwards explaining he could see bison and bears in the stars and clouds.

Smoky’s regained vigour was also helpful for Milly. She now managed a small farm and provided English lessons in exchange for the rent on the land. She’d purchased their little house with small sums of money her father posted in addition to her earnings from the farm. The village had a small shop with a larger house attached and she had negotiated a price and now it was a matter of saving. Smoky’s building skills were sought around the village and region. He learned Korean from locals, his wife and the ever-talkative, bi-lingual Ethan.

While the Korean war continued, the Army didn’t recall Smoky, nor did the Embassy ask for Milly. In 1953, a truce in Korea was negotiated providing an uneasy peace. The villagers waited for the deal to break, while hoping it to hold. There were still thousands missing and inconsolable parents and families felt no peace.

In 1954 Milly and Smoky decided they would ask to stay in Korea. While the US Army maintained a presence, the majority of Americans were shipping home. However, Milly now had a family and Smoky had a home, but no home in the States to return to. She asked her father for assistance to remain as residents and he helped with visas and documents. This was his last contact and Milly later heard he’d left Korea.

After the truce and approval to stay, they adjusted to new concepts. They were accepted, free, happy, more comfortable and settled. There was also peace and calm within their home when Ethan finally slept.

During the late 1950s, two more sons were added to the Ford family, and Smoky and Milly thought ahead to their children’s education and careers. Milly particularly reflected on her excellent US education. Smoky didn’t want his sons to idealise military service or manual work either. His various wartime injuries were beginning to impact his building projects, so he could only supervise. His sons needed education for their best possible careers and their entire working lives. The Ford family were minor ex-pats in remote Korea, but they needed to provide their sons with broader opportunity outside of the village.

When Ethan was entering his teenage years, his parents decided. All boys would be offered the opportunity to attend university either in Seoul or the USA. One afternoon they sought Ethan to discuss their thinking and plans.

As usual, their tall, lithe son was wandering around the village and near forest, almost like divinity. Everyone remarked on his aura and children followed him wherever he went, asking to hold his hand. To Milly he just looked exotic among the village children. Nearly six foot tall at 13 years. His father however recognised Ethan’s lineage. Ethan was emerging as a Wichita Brave.

When sat together Milly said, Ethan, dear son, we need to plan for your future. It’s nearing the time for you to leave our village to see what you can achieve. You need the best education and opportunity.

I know. What are your plans? I will tell you mine.

At age sixteen in 1967, Ethan completed high school and it was time. Ethan’s choice was to attend university at Waco, Texas, as he wanted to walk the land of his father and forebears. Smoky proudly recognised Ethan would be the first of their family to attend university. Their ancestors hadn’t been able or welcome to walk that land.

Milly was shocked at the reality, as she was preparing for Ethan’s likely departure to Seoul with regular weekend visits. She eventually found peace, for what if Ethan wanted to walk the land in Nebraska instead of Texas? Was her father there? What would that look like?

University wasn’t all set though. First, Ethan needed to complete an entry course to verify his academic strength. Through correspondence Milly arranged that he would undertake an academic bridging course in Texas and following completion seek enrolment at Baylor University in Waco.

In early 1968, Ethan set out for the USA from Seoul. A one-way trip to the USA, the very reverse trip his parents had taken in the 1950s. The trip his parents imagined back to the US but had never dared.

At the airport his parents hugged him and cried before he boarded. Ethan was excited but acted demure for their sake. Again, Smoky saw the aeroplane propellors waving, but thankfully it wasn’t a military transport plane. Milly and Smoky watched the aeroplane door close and sobbed.

Then there was Ethan’s sweet face in the small, bubble window, dabbing his eyes, but smiling and waving.

In Dallas he lived in a boarding house with fellow international students and they helped each other with their studies. Together the boarders cooked, ate, conversed, and studied in mutual community. It dulled the edges of their sharp homesickness.

Ethan’s English was at a good level due to the instruction of his parents, but the USA and Texan language was a peculiar variant. Everyone was a neighbour. Ethan took a big hat and said sure’nuff when he meant to agree with people. People who were fake ‘were all hat and no cattle’.

At his bridging school before university, Ethan battled complex subjects which threatened his progress to university. In his final exams the papers contained some familiar words and numerals. He scratched over the papers with enthusiasm and hope.

Ethan looked for his results in the newspaper on the day of their announcement, rising at 4am to learn his fate. With shaking hands he looked for the promised academic results. He found ‘F’ and checked the result many times. There was a row of C results beside E. Ford.

At 4.30am he jumped around the boarding house, ecstatic to be a straight C student. Ethan shoved the page of fine print into bleary-eyed faces and shouted, I’m off to Baylor!

He quickly sent a postcard of typical Texan scenes back to his parents proudly explaining he was now busy confirming his university enrolment details. He’d cruised through the bridging course he explained, and all was going to plan.

In 1969 Ethan commenced physics studies at the Baylor University, Waco, Texas. Ethan knew little about physics, however he wanted to help design bridges and roads. He loved shapes, dimensions, and design, and was advised towards physics. Now at university he found the course was pure mathematics. He was a good mathematician, but the standard of applied university mathematics was well above his home education.

While he was still being carried along by the novelty of attending university he battled loneliness and the isolation of being a foreign student. Little innocent actions from his fellow students hurt him. Sometimes they struggled to understand him. He tended to use Korean terms when he didn’t know the right Texan-English words. His native American heritage, combined with his Asian English didn’t help. His fellow students sometimes found it easier to leave him out of conversation and social events. Just like in Korea he was an exotic.

Although he arrived with some financial support from his parents’ savings he needed to work to raise money for tuition, lodging and food. Ethan drove taxis at night after his lectures finished and on weekends. He also repaired household appliances the Americans were quick to discard and this became a useful source of cash. Often he fell behind in both his study and earnings. Most semesters the university registrar received a request from Ford for an extension of time to pay his fees. The registrar and his office became so familiar with these requests that as soon as Ethan provided his name he was automatically asked whether he wanted another extension. He was happy to return favours and asked whether they had any broken appliances in need of repair. Sometimes they did.

For most of his early time at university Ethan was uptight and yet when he walked around the campus he noticed the American students looked relaxed and happy. The other young men in his course planned weekends away with their girlfriends and went to bars after classes. Meanwhile Ethan ran home to study for an hour before driving taxis. In the early morning before classes and study he would work nimbly to bring appliances back to life.

Disturbed, he thought of his friends in Korea. They told him what fun he would have in the USA at university. He wondered whether they’d misled him.

At the end of his first year Ethan felt great uncertainty about his studies. Although he was working hard, he wasn’t coping. He had passed only two of the eight subjects in the first year. But it was more than that. He began to wonder what he really should become.

He had been directed into physics and although a respectable career may lay in wait, he deeply questioned his destiny. Ethan began to feel the course was caging him. While he didn’t want to become a full-time appliance repairer, the easy flow of cash from his little business seemed more natural.

Ethan reflected on his earlier optimism and satisfaction when he decided to move to study in Texas. He felt released then. Now he felt tethered to a dull, difficult course and the steering wheel of a taxi and his screwdriver set. His aura was fading.

In his second year he was overcome by the realities of complex, applied physics. As the course progressed, the physics became heavier and harder. The next year he failed more subjects and his effort vanished. More subjects to repeat! Ethan corresponded home and explained his failures. His father replied to his every letter. At a point of distress, his father found words for the situation:

Son, I love you very much and I’m sad you have failed another exam. It is of no comfort, I know, but please understand, you have to do it. It must look hard right now, but I know you will do it. You must carry the feather of your tribe. Sometimes you must live today again, to achieve what wasn’t done today for you and your tribe. I know you can succeed. I love you and have faith in you. Your Papa.

Ethan took this advice into his heart and tried even harder. Every available minute was dedicated to study. Every Sunday, he went to the library as soon as it opened.

In his fourth year, Ethan realised he could no longer be a burden to his parents. His father’s letter, while emboldening him to work harder also pressed home to him he had failed the subjects. His failures should not extend his parents’ responsibility. They also had his brothers to support. He would no longer ask for tuition fees. Ethan needed to earn more, and so for the next year he drove more miles in the taxi and repaired many more failed appliances.

Sitting in a taxi, typically waiting in a rank for