[Side Story] Boiled Life(2)
****
[DAY-1]
The transport plane dropped me ‘near’ the 14th Special Operations Forces station.
‘Well, I’m sorry. They move around here and there without reporting to the higher-ups, and since they are the ones who attracted attention from above, their exact location is hard to pinpoint. Still, if you run out of supplies, they take them before they even hit the ground, so if you land at a supply location, they will come and take you right away.’
My face was swollen, and when I told him that I was going to the 14th Special Operations Unit without a duffel bag and only with a gas mask, the supply sergeant looked pitiful and handed me a small backpack.
So, I somehow fell into the jungle with a supply bag on my front and a parachute bag on my back.
The parachute was caught in a tree and whined for 30 minutes. I managed to cut it off with the bayonet I was wearing in my belt, and it took another hour to find the gun I dropped nearby.
After moving my exhausted body through the humid rainforest, I was completely exhausted in less than two hours.
“If I wait here… will it work?”
dump.
Ji profit-
Rather than a supply point, I was sitting in an empty space where some trees had been pushed aside, and when I opened the bag the supply soldier had brought me, I found that it was filled with various practical supplies. Blankets and soap. Poncho raincoat and small sleeping bag. and….
Rustle-
“Oh, it’s chocolate?”
Before I could even feel the joy of the familiar plastic packaging, I heard a deep, low-pitched voice coming from behind.
Sigh!
“Keek, ugh!”
A powerful forearm instantly wrapped itself around my neck, and I fainted without even being able to resist.
****
Acrid smoke. A space filled with only the artificial sound of wind leaking and full of ocher-colored smoke.
‘Son. ‘Don’t give up.’
And, my father’s will.
It’s that dream again. A nightmare that has come every day since my father passed away.
The father in my dream was melting into chemical gas, but his voice was clear.
‘Don’t give up. ‘You shouldn’t die.’
Those melting hands came languidly and took me into their arms. She knew he was already dead, but she couldn’t help but hug him.
‘You’re not going to die, are you?’
‘yes.’
‘You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?’
‘yes.’
‘That’s right. That way, my dying for you won’t be in vain.’
Ah, father.
As I saw my father melting into blood between my hands, my consciousness became faint again.
.
.
.
.
.
Jump up!
“Oh, recruit. Do you have good guts? “It’s already happening.”
A voice in my memory. It was the same voice I last heard before I lost consciousness. A black man with the body of a martial arts athlete, wearing only military pants and a tank top.
He introduced himself as John and explained that this was the 14th Special Operations Unit.
“So this… is a military base?”
“I want to ask what that strange silence is, but I think I know the answer, so I’ll hold on. First of all, it’s true that I belong to the military. 14th Special Operations Unit. “This is 3rd Platoon Commander John Abrams.”
The professor gasped as he approached! I wrinkled my nose at the musty smell and held his hand. In fact, the smell permeated not only this man but the entire barracks.
The folding bed had turned black except for the place where the person was lying down due to mold growing on it, no matter when it was washed. Firearms were lying around haphazardly, and the military uniforms had been modified in various ways, like high school uniforms. No matter how you look at it, it doesn’t look like an ordinary barracks, but rather a place that looks like the remains of the defeated soldiers hastily abandoned.
More than anything….
“Whoa! “It’s the new bulletproof!”
“Clean blanket!”
“underwear! “There’s underwear too!”
“FUXXXXXX!!!! It’s a sock! White and fresh socks!!!!”
His supply bag was being looted by a group of beggars.
When I looked at John with doubts amidst a headache that felt like my head was going to explode, he scratched his curly head and answered.
“Uh…um…. So, resupply. Resupply. If you don’t use new items like that properly, accidents will happen at critical moments. So, those fierce items are taken care of by the old-timers, and the inexperienced new recruits are given new, excellent supplies from veterans. Okay kid? You understand, right? “It’s like unit culture, culture!”
“Sweet- haaaa~ The smell of industrial products. It’s the scent of civilization. New panties. “I’m finally free from that h*mo gorilla that stares at the hole in my panties every day.”
“Hey MJ, I’m sorry, but you have to give me those panties. “My bed is next to Samuel’s.”
“f*ck you, Yeti! The new recruit is Asian! If you, like a bear, wear them, these panties will turn into thongs! Why don’t you dress up nicely and whisper to Samuel that today is D-day?”
“…That?”
“f*ck. “Welcome to the 14th Special Operations Division, Kid.”
John, who was trying to fix things somehow, gave up on persuading the new recruit as he watched the platoon members taking off each other’s panties and comparing whose panties were dirtier and worn.
****
Among the cartoons from a long time ago, there was a baseball cartoon called ‘The Foreign Team of Fear’.
The people of the 14th Special Operations Unit were very similar to the characters who appeared there.
“Oh, yes. You don’t have to be so guarded. Even though I am like this, I am a person with a sense of style. “You don’t touch minors?”
A man with a huge physique and a small beard only under his chin, who felt uncomfortable wearing tight pants that seemed to burst, but cut his military uniform pants short enough to look like dolphin pants.
Samuel Marchetti, commonly known as Miss (Mr.) Marty, was the person who took the best care of me, who was new and knew nothing. Everyone watched with suspicious and very worried expressions, but she said that the care came from pure ‘motherly love’.
He, whose hobby is tearing apart worn-out clothes and repairing them, was sitting next to me today as always, mending the torn uniforms of other unit members.
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“…don’t touch me.”
“Hehe, that’s harsh. That’s not really what I mean. I may be a little strange and very, very, very hungry, but I protect what I have to protect. We’re colleagues, right? “If you don’t want to have unusable holes all over your body while you sleep, it’s natural to respect each other.”
“dog sound. “So you took all my things and only gave me things that even a beggar wouldn’t wear?”
The reason Marty is sitting next to me now is because he can’t see my poor sewing skills and wants to teach me a lesson. That day, not only the supplies in my small bag but also my military uniform were completely ripped off while I was sleeping. I was trying to receive the old supplies that the platoon members had thrown away and put them in a usable condition.
“It seems like everyone took your things at random, but they were considerate of you? First of all, you can tell by the fact that no one has touched the gas mask you carry so dearly, right, Kid? We touch everything, but we don’t touch things that have a story behind them. huh?”
“You like consideration. What country’s military is considerate of taking away everything they have and making them do all kinds of annoying chores? You don’t have to lie, Marty. I heard everything. “They said they don’t need new soldiers, so it would be a good idea to bring in a lot of supplies.”
The 14th Special Forces had a custom of gathering at the 1st Platoon barracks at mealtime and eating together. I heard stories from other soldiers there, and on the day I arrived, at the sound of a transport plane, everyone came out of their barracks and looked up at the sky like cavemen who had discovered fire for the first time. And when they confirmed that what had fallen from there was a person and not a large box, they sighed in unison.
When I answered as if I was saying no, Marty covered his mouth and smiled as if he thought I was cute, patted his head (I tried to resist, but it didn’t budge like some kind of industrial crane), and pointed with his index finger at the special forces members lined up everywhere.
“Yeah, everyone needs to be prepared when new soldiers arrive.”
“Resolution?”
“Yes. Don’t we also feel heartbroken when our fresh friends keep dying? Sometimes we have to kill with our own hands. “It’s probably uncomfortable.”
“Are that many people dying?”
“Of course. Eight new recruits have arrived in the past three months, but you are the only one still alive. That’s why everyone rushed in like an anglerfish and stole all the equipment. “Will our Lieutenant Colonel King, who has no blood or tears, push a child into battle empty-handed when his platoon members looted everything, including guns and boots?”
“On purpose… you made him incapable of combat?”
‘Is that what you meant?’
Listening to Marty’s words, I thought that the people in the unit who seemed fierce might have a warm heart beneath their fierce appearance and tone of voice. At that time, I saw 1st Platoon Commander Luwil walking towards me, carrying a crumpled shell of combat rations (which was my supply) and grinning while asking people something.
“Hey, Kid! “Do you want to do it too?”
“….what.”
“What is it, it’s a game! If you sit around in a place like this with nothing to do, will you quickly go crazy? “If you want to live, being a soldier means taking good care of your mental health!”
‘If you want to live, then…’
Ruwil’s words reminded me of my deceased father again. My father was trying to subdue me as I tried to hand over the gas mask even though I was in pain from the poison. I still couldn’t completely understand why my father tried so hard to save me. Because denial was too vast for me, who was still young, to understand.
But this is the life that was saved. At least I had the thought that I should not leave it carelessly.
“good. “Please include me too.”
It would be worth listening to the words of someone who survived enough to become a platoon leader in this place where new recruits are all dying. Let’s get to know these people. Let’s become friends and learn how to survive. I have to survive somehow and meet my mother.
Thinking of my mother already made me feel better and my energy returned. Mental management. I felt like I had already learned something important.
“good! I really like the momentum. Then walk. “The theme of the game is betting.”
“bet? “With what?”
Sigh-
“Kid. It’s you. “How long will you survive here?”
When I looked at the back of the plastic that Ruwil held out, I saw that under each platoon, there were times like three days, four days, and a week written, along with the names of the members of the special forces that I was slowly becoming familiar with.
“So… you’re betting on when I’ll die?”
“Hehehehe. It’s tradition. Are you saying that the 3rd Platoon you are currently in is the richest in the 14th Special Operations Division? I’m sure they would have eaten up all your supplies. Of course, we can’t let that happen, so we’re making a bet like this. All members of the platoon are all in on the ‘survival’ of the new recruit. “As for the rest… it’s a realistic bet.”
“Where did you walk?”
“me? 2 weeks. “His eyes were clearer than I thought, and he didn’t look like he was going to die standing still.”
When I looked at the names of the platoon members written on the plastic, I turned my head to see Marty, who had stopped sewing and was looking at the mountains in the distance.
“Two weeks….”
I looked at the betting board again. Compared to the other platoons, which were sparse due to the number of people who were absent, the 3rd platoon’s betting list was filled with signatures, with no one missing.
——-
Shepherd: Survival – Harsh Chocolate Bar
MJ: Survival – Supply Medium Running New One Piece
Yeti: Survival – A pair of new supply panties
doris
palmer
Liam
.
.
.
.
Chester King: Survival – 30g of Blue Mountain coffee beans brewed about 12 times
——-
All of my supplies, which I had been holding in my hands one by one and grinning as I fought so fiercely, were all on the betting list.
The period written next to the list was the same for everyone.
[survival]
“Normally, if you survive until this operation ends and you move on to the next operation, you are considered to have survived. This isn’t a normal big game? The guys in the 3rd platoon barely put on a scrap of underwear, but the rest of us put on things like ‘a dream-like night with the lover I left behind in my hometown’ or ‘the savings I’ve accumulated throughout my life.’ It’s my personal opinion, but no matter how you look at it, it’s a profitable business for the 3rd platoon. “You’ll regret it if you don’t bet, Kid?”
What should I say? I’m not impressed. I feel a bit strangely itchy, but it feels like I don’t want to say it out loud.
“…It’s okay, that is.”
“hmm? Really? “I just brought it here to make fun of you.”
“They say it’s a tradition. “Because I am a Korean Natural Born Yugyo-Man, I can never ignore traditions or customs.”
The professor took a pen from a grinning Ruwil and engraved his name at the end of the 3rd Platoon’s name.
——
Professor Park: Survival – everything you have, from head to toe.
——
“Ha ha ha ha ha! All in! Kid, you’re pretty cool! This game is really good! Hahahahaha!”
A big smile appeared on Ruwil’s heavily tanned face.
The professor who was facing him also had a crooked smile, like letters engraved on crumpled plastic.
****
fantasy,
