Here’s a plot twist you might not expect in a software developer’s career path: taking an 18-month break to serve in the Republic of Korea military. Spoiler alert: your debugging skills won’t help you stay awake during 불침번 (night duty).

It’s been a couple weeks since I got discharged. And I thought that I scribble some thoughts.

Life in the Barracks

Coming from a sedentary life as a dev, the military was an entirely different world. Not only as an, almost, Korean-American by culture but also as a Korean. My first realization? You thought there’s hierarchy in Korean culture? Military culture is on a different universe.

Morning PT in freezing or scorching temperatures, where your body moves on autopilot while your mind questions every life decision. The sacred art of cleaning, where even dust particles lived in fear of our platoon leader’s white-glove inspections. Then there were the endless training sessions where “one last time” never actually meant the last time.

The Art of Military Service

Night duty was just one flavor of military life. There was barracks cleaning - an Olympic sport where your performance was judged not just on cleanliness, but on the geometric precision of how you arranged shoes and folded blankets. The infamous barracks inspection turned us all into master illusionists, creating the appearance of perfect order from chaos in minutes.

Specialized training was its own adventure. Whatever your assigned role, you quickly learned that your actual duties would include everything from KP duty to random base maintenance tasks. The military’s version of “full-stack developer” meant being ready to handle anything from fixing vehicles to painting walls.

Weekend politics around leaves and passes made office politics look like child’s play. The subtle art of negotiating duty schedules, the complex calculations of how many hours of sleep you could get if you took the latest possible train back to base - these were optimization problems no computer science course prepared me for.

The Good Parts

Surprisingly, there were moments of genuine connection and growth. The camaraderie built during shared hardships is real - your buddy helping you clean your rifle before inspection isn’t so different from a colleague reviewing your code, except the stakes are pushups instead of merge conflicts and no pushing over to the next sprint. In software, we talk about teamwork; in the military, you literally eat, sleep, and breathe it.

The food, contrary to what many might expect, wasn’t half bad. They’ve recently up’ed the budget for food supplies. And midnight ramen after duty was something else. Even more memorable were the moments of shared accomplishment after completing particularly grueling training exercises. Perhaps most valuable were the genuine friendships formed with people from all walks of life - connections that would never have formed in my usual tech bubble.

The Bad Parts

Let’s be real about the challenges. The complete loss of personal autonomy hit harder than any production outage I’ve ever faced. There’s a special kind of frustration in the endless repetition of tasks that seemed to serve no purpose other than tradition. Winter training exercises were brutal - the kind of cold where even your thoughts freeze. The mind-numbing boredom during certain duties, especially those 3 AM shifts, tested the limits of sanity. And perhaps most painfully, missing countless family events and friends’ weddings created a constant reminder of life moving on without you.

The Horrific Parts

Some experiences were genuinely difficult. The instances of power abuse in some units weren’t just uncomfortable - they were deeply troubling. There’s a unique mental toll that comes with being cut off from the outside world, especially in today’s connected age. Then there were those sobering moments when you realize you’re not just playing soldier - this is actual military service. As a developer, watching your technical skills degrade while the tech world moves forward was its own special kind of torture.

Unexpected Skills Acquired

Military service has a way of teaching you things you never knew you needed to learn. I developed an almost superhuman ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime - a skill I now surprisingly find useful during long compile times. My clothes-folding speed is nothing like it was before, and I can still eat an entire meal in under 3 minutes when necessary. Perhaps most surprising was gaining a newfound appreciation for simple things like being able to use my phone whenever I want.

Cultural Survival Mechanisms

Every Korean soldier develops their own coping strategies. I found myself mentally refactoring the military’s processes while mopping floors, converting time schedules into algorithmic problems just to keep my mind sharp. Cleaning duty became my meditation time, and I learned to find humor in the absurdity of certain situations - like trying to explain to my sergeant why “optimization” doesn’t mean cutting corners.

Return to Civilian Life

Coming back to civilian life was like upgrading to a new OS - everything familiar yet subtly different. The transition wasn’t just about returning to coding; it was about relearning civilian patterns. Making my own schedule again proved surprisingly challenging after months of having every minute planned out. It took time to remember that I could actually say “no” to things, that not everyone expected responses shouted in unison, and that not everything needed to be done at maximum speed.

Though the biggest thing is the change that happened since I got it. AI has overtaken the world by storm. I mean, it might not seem obvious if you’ve gradually incorporated AI to your life throughout the course of a couple of years ChatGPT rolled out, but for me it’s like I’ve just found fire.

And oh the web ecosystem has changed with Vercel and everything. I’ve got a bunch of catching up to do.

Final Thoughts

Those 18 months were simultaneously the longest and shortest time of my life. While I wouldn’t voluntarily do it again, the experience wasn’t purely negative. It was a forced break from the chaos going on in life that taught me things no debugging session ever could.

To fellow Korean developers facing military service: yes, you’ll survive. Your Git repositories will still be there when you return (though the number of updates might be scary). Your debugging skills might get rusty, but you’ll gain a different kind of problem-solving ability - one that works without Stack Overflow.