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CH497 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-09-08 17:16:47 +0000 UTCBusan, Yeongdo District — Hojin Heavy Industries, Yeongdo Shipyard.
This was the very place where, in 1937, Korea’s first modern shipyard was established. It was also where the nation’s first dry dock was built and where the historic construction of the first Korean-made steel vessel—a 390-ton ship—took place.
Beyond that, this shipyard achieved numerous other milestones: building the first export vessel, domestically produced warships, refrigerated cargo ships, and even oil drilling ships. With each new achievement, it piled up records of “firsts” and “bests,” earning the titles “Korea’s No. 1 Shipyard” and “Naval Academy of Shipbuilding Technology.”
Though the winter wind was still biting, the moment one passed through the front gate and entered the yard, the first thing to catch the eye was a colossal 70-meter crane capable of lifting 100 tons.
Each dock was crammed full of massive ships under construction, leaving no gaps. Towering cranes lowered house-sized blocks into place, where workers in gray jumpers swarmed like ants, welding seam by seam with flashes of white and orange sparks. It was a magnificent sight.
From the sprawling 80,000-pyeong shipyard, enormous ships were assembled piece by piece like Lego blocks. Watching this, Seok-won let out an exclamation of awe.
“Truly, the only words I can say are… this is incredible.”
Standing beside him in a gray work jumper and hard hat was Yang Kyung-seok, the stout president of Hojin Heavy Industries. His face radiated pride as he replied.
“What you’re looking at now is a 17,500-ton oil tanker about to be delivered. It’s 158 meters long, 11.5 meters high, and 26.8 meters wide, yet it can still sail the seas at an average speed of 13 knots.”
He then gestured with one hand toward another vessel still under construction nearby and continued his explanation.
“That one is a membrane-type LNG carrier. Three years ago, we were the first in Asia to successfully construct one here at this shipyard. After that, we won contracts to build two more, and this is the second of them.”
Seok-won scanned the bustling yard, where not a single space was left unused, his expression turning slightly uneasy.
“Just at a glance, I can see the docks are completely packed. The workload must be enormous. If we commission the construction of the patrol boats, I wonder if they can all be completed within the required timeframe.”
Due to the shipyard’s location within a large city like Busan, it was inevitably smaller in scale compared to the massive shipyards on Geoje Island.
As a result, the docks were congested with ships under construction, heavy Goliath cranes, and all manner of equipment, crammed together like passengers in an overcrowded bus during rush hour.
No matter how he looked at it, it seemed unlikely they could build six high-speed patrol boats in time—the very vessels promised as a donation to the Navy in exchange for establishing the space center in Moseulpo.
But Yang Kyung-seok struck his chest confidently, as though there was nothing to worry about.
“As you can see, the docks are indeed full, but not all construction takes place inside them. We’ve developed and applied an innovative method where we manufacture massive mega-blocks onshore, then use floating cranes—capable of lifting even heavier loads than land-based ones—to move and attach them in the docks. This has allowed us to drastically reduce construction times. So there’s no need to worry about meeting deadlines.”
“That’s a relief, then. As expected of Korea’s No. 1 shipyard—your technology and expertise truly live up to your reputation.”
At that, President Yang Kyung-seok and the surrounding officials of Hojin Heavy Industries all wore expressions brimming with pride.
Seok-won continued listening to Yang’s explanations as he slowly toured the bustling shipyard, before eventually heading toward the office building on one side.
In a spacious conference room, both parties took their seats across from each other at a long table.
After a female staff member placed down hot coffee and quietly left, Yang Kyung-seok glanced at Seok-won, who was seated beside Han Ji-sung, and was the first to speak.
“Since being designated in 1974 as Korea’s very first defense contractor, we’ve built Chamsuri-class patrol boats, as well as corvettes, landing ships, amphibious hovercraft, and even submarines. In that sense, we pride ourselves on possessing technology and know-how in the field of special-purpose vessels that can stand toe-to-toe with any shipyard in the country.”
Yang continued, his voice firm with confidence.
“If you entrust us with this order, we promise to deliver the patrol boats at the most reasonable price and with the highest quality.”
This wasn’t mere boasting—it was confidence backed by proven achievements and capabilities. Pleased by such confidence, Seok-won smiled faintly as he replied.
“Since Hojin Heavy Industries has already built the prototype as well as all other Chamsuri-class patrol boats, I have every confidence you’ll do an excellent job.”
Between 1976 and 1993, a total of 105 Chamsuri-class patrol boats were constructed, split between Hojin Heavy Industries’ predecessor, Korea Shipbuilding Corporation, and Korea Tacoma.
However, eight years earlier, Korea Tacoma, unable to withstand its accumulated losses, had filed for court receivership, after which it was acquired and merged by Hojin Heavy Industries.
So it wasn’t a lie to say that all Chamsuri-class patrol boats had been built by Hojin Heavy Industries.
“However, the last construction was completed six years ago. The onboard equipment and design have since become rather outdated, so instead of replicating the old design, I’d like to see some modifications and improvements.”
Yang Kyung-seok nodded in agreement.
“In the last late-model versions, we already implemented significant upgrades—modernizing equipment such as the MOSCOS satellite communication system and replacing the forward-mounted naval gun with a 40mm Bofors automatic cannon. Still, as you’ve said, six years have passed since then, so additional improvements will indeed be necessary.”
Glancing carefully at Seok-won, Yang cautiously asked,
“Of course, the extent of these modifications will directly affect the cost of construction. Depending on how far the upgrades go, the price could rise considerably.”
It was only natural to raise the issue carefully—after all, the costs would easily run into billions of won.
But Seok-won remained calm, his expression untroubled.
“Naturally, we’ll take the additional costs into account and pay accordingly.”
At this, Yang’s slightly stiff expression eased, and he nodded vigorously.
“In that case, while the design revisions may require a little more time, there will be absolutely no issues on our end with construction.”
Yang then gave a meaningful glance to his side.
“Director Gong.”
“Yes, sir.”
Director Gong Sang-min, head of the Special Vessels Division, pulled a large file case from his side. From it, he took out an A2-sized basic design blueprint of the patrol boat and spread it open on the conference table so that Seok-won could examine it clearly.
Yang Kyung-seok looked across at Seok-won and said,
“This is a basic blueprint we’ve prepared, incorporating a few modifications of our own.”
As Seok-won studied the drawing intently, Yang added further explanation.
“Specifically, we’ve installed a satellite communication device capable of direct contact with command headquarters in the rear section, and we’ve secured additional fuel storage to extend cruising range. Also, instead of the 7.62mm M60 machine gun, we’ve replaced the auxiliary armament with the more powerful 12.7mm K6 heavy machine gun.”
After carefully reviewing the blueprint—which outlined the general external shape of the hull and the basic placement of major equipment—Seok-won finally looked up.
“There’s not much difference from the later-model Chamsuri.”
His lukewarm response suggested dissatisfaction. Watching his reaction closely, Yang explained,
“As I mentioned earlier, the extent of modifications applied will cause construction costs to vary dramatically. So, we’ve limited the changes to only the most essential upgrades. If you’d like to specify further adjustments now, we’ll incorporate them into the design.”
Seok-won didn’t hesitate, as if he had been waiting for this moment.
“First, let’s up-gun the main weapon. The current 40mm Bofors single-mount and the 20mm Vulcan are both weak in firepower, and since they require direct operation by the crew, they expose them to enemy fire. Replace them with the OTO Melara 76mm naval gun.”
“…!”
“And since close-range engagements will require secondary weapons, instead of just 12.7mm K6 heavy machine guns on both beams, I want to add 20mm Vulcans equipped with a remote fire control system. That way, the crew can fire safely from inside the vessel without exposing themselves. Wouldn’t that greatly improve survivability in combat?”
On the opposite side of the table, Yang Kyung-seok and the other Hojin Heavy Industries personnel looked visibly flustered. But Seok-won continued without the slightest concern.
“To prepare for hits, add thick armor plates across the entire hull. Also, replace the fully exposed bridge, which is highly vulnerable to attacks, with an enclosed one. And change the windshields to bulletproof glass capable of withstanding gunfire.”
At that point, Director Gong Sang-min couldn’t keep silent any longer. Wearing a troubled expression, he interjected.
“Implementing those modifications would certainly enhance firepower, but trying to fit all that onto the small 147-ton hull of the Chamsuri-class is simply not feasible.”
“Then just make the hull bigger.”
“…Excuse me?”
The answer was delivered so casually and abruptly that it took a moment for anyone to react.
When the meaning sank in, Gong’s eyes widened in shock.
“You—you mean to enlarge the hull?”
“That’s right. Around 300 tons should do.”
Gong looked at him as though he’d just heard sheer nonsense.
“You’re suggesting increasing displacement by 150 tons?”
President Yang Kyung-seok, who had been listening, could no longer hide his bewilderment.
But Seok-won didn’t stop there. He pointed to different parts of the blueprint and continued laying out the ideas he had prepared.
“Since the hull will be larger, we’ll need engines with greater output. And of course, to efficiently control and operate the weapon systems, all surface, anti-air, and fire-control radars should be replaced with the latest models.”
Yang Kyung-seok and the staff of Hojin Heavy Industries, who had only expected minor modifications, were left speechless by a plan that far exceeded anything they had imagined.
“Oh, and make sure to add four-man cabins with fixed bunks for the crew, along with a separate galley, and install a large desalination unit to convert seawater into fresh water. That will greatly improve their living conditions.”
Because of the outdated hull, space was cramped, forcing sailors to sleep in stacked wall-mounted bunks. With no desalination system on board, once at sea they couldn’t wash properly and had to rely solely on bottled water loaded beforehand.
Though the patrol boats had been designed back in 1976, the working conditions were abysmally harsh.
No wonder naval conscripts dreaded patrol boat duty as much as submarines. It wasn’t just the risk of manning the front lines right along the NLL—it was also this brutal environment.
Seok-won wanted to give the sailors—young men sacrificing their youth to guard the rough seas day and night for their country and families—even a slightly safer and more comfortable environment.
It’s not like I don’t have the money. There’s nothing stopping me from doing this.
As these thoughts ran through his mind, Yang Kyung-seok finally came to his senses. Half in shock, he put on a troubled expression.
“If we proceed as you’ve just outlined, this won’t be a modification anymore—it’ll be the construction of an entirely different ship.”
Seok-won nodded firmly.
“That’s exactly what I want. The new millennium is right around the corner. Building outdated patrol boats designed twenty-three years ago would be the real foolishness.”
“That may be true, but… in that case, the construction cost could double, maybe even more.”
But Seok-won’s response was resolute, his voice carrying a serious weight.
“I don’t care. Even if it costs three times as much, build me a warship that can utterly crush the enemy in battle and protect the lives of its crew.”
“Good heavens…”
It wasn’t empty rhetoric but words overflowing with sincerity. Taken aback, Yang Kyung-seok straightened his posture.
“Are you saying that no matter how high the construction cost goes, it doesn’t matter to you?”
“That’s right.”
Without hesitation, Seok-won gave his answer. Yang nodded in response.
“Very well. In that case, we will build the patrol boats as you wish. Not the Chamsuri-class… but a brand-new, next-generation model.”
Seeing the firm resolve in Yang Kyung-seok’s eyes, Seok-won smiled with satisfaction.
With this, he believed, when the clash with North Korea erupted three years later in the waters near Yeonpyeong Island, young naval officers and sailors would no longer have to die in vain.
Comments
Jordan selleck
Thanks for the chapter
James Stewart
Thanks for the new chapter!
