00040 --- #Journal %26 #Inner Chamber ---
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#Journal, page 65, Camp Roberts
A decoration ceremony took place. As Captain McGuire had predicted, it was the Silver Star.
The person dispatched from the Department of Defense was the same as before. His name was Bliss, a Major from the Public Affairs Office. He still appeared anxious and irritable, but unlike before, he no longer wore a gas mask. It was almost certain by that time that 「Morgellons」 was not airborne.
The Major's gaze at me was complicated. A mix of admiration and discontent. If you looked closely, it was as if he was questioning why he kept having to come here because of me.
This time as well, the dedication was read by the battalion commander. Given the occasion, I wore the Army dress uniform. The increased number of medals felt quite heavy. Far more cameras captured this scene compared to before. Journalists crossing the blockade at risk to themselves clung to me like hungry animals.
"How does it feel to achieve the fastest and youngest promotion to Lieutenant in the history of the United States?"
"Could you describe the situation during Operation Santa Maria?"
"Could you share your future aspirations with us?"
So far, so good.
"Do you have a significant other? If not, what is your type?"
"What kind of food do you like?"
"Is there anything you'd like to say to your fans?"
Why do such questions even come up? And fans, really?
Throughout being pestered by journalists, major Bliss stuck by my side. He skillfully managed the press, pointing out inappropriate questions, asking to see their notes, instructing them on corrections, and telling them not to air certain segments. It was blatant media interference, but the journalists seemed to readily accept it. It was a facet of patriotic reporting noted by Lieutenant Capston. It might be intensified by the global crisis at hand.
Ah, I should probably be calling him Captain Capston now. He was promoted for discovering me. It was good news, but the man furrowed his brow, claiming it was embarrassing, and grumbled that I deserved more awards.
Other soldiers who came to congratulate me said similar things.
"If you consider his accomplishments, even a Medal of Honor wouldn't suffice. What's with just a Silver Star?"
"I know, right? Even if you look at past Medal of Honor recipients, none have achieved as much in a single battle as our young Lieutenant here did. At most, maybe John Basilone or Audie Murphy?"
"But I think Lieutenant Gyeo-ul is even better than those two."
This was the conversation between Ratchman and Sergeant Sirius. I just smiled. Sergeant Pierce stepped in.
"It's all politics."
"What do you mean, Sergeant?"
"It's obvious what those above are thinking. They want to create a leader for the refugees but don't want to give too much power to one person... perhaps learning from experiences in Afghanistan."
Sergeant Pierce once shared the example he had given earlier. It was when I was made an administrative leader just because of my proficiency in English. It was a plausible analysis. They didn't want another uncontrollable armed group emerging. Never put all your eggs in one basket, as the saying goes.
"You know a lot about this, Sergeant. Given your strong build, I wouldn't have guessed."
Guilherme said this and received a punch. Even though it was a light hit, he groaned. Sergeant countered.
"How many years do you think I've been in this? I've heard so much from my peers in the regiment and division. Politics exist even among soldiers. If you want stars in this field, you need to be well-versed in politics. Even ordinary officers, or knuckleheads like you, are no exception. Know William Swenson? If those higher up dislike you, no matter how well you fight, it's tough to get recognition."
The Sergeant used the term 'stars' in a double sense. I didn't know who William Swenson was, but everyone who heard nodded as if he was someone who had faced an unfair situation.
"But Lieutenant, is this really the end?"
It was Guilherme who asked. I shook my head. For now, it was just the medal, but a promotion was already planned. According to Major Bliss, it would happen 'once I had the proper qualifications'.
Those proper qualifications referred to more solid officer training. Due to me, the plan for forming a refugee volunteer force was being reevaluated continuously, which also altered the expectations.
I was to receive additional education from officers on the ground first, and eventually sit for qualification tests in military education facilities. The Major said he'd inform me of the schedule through his subordinate as soon as it was set. It turned out that subordinate was Captain McGuire.
It reminded me of what the Major had said that the Captain would dislike. The fatigue and discomfort in the Major's eyes hinted at that very thing.
After the ceremony, there was a celebration held in the American civilian zone. It wasn't an official event but something authorized by the camp commander at the citizens' request.
I received bouquets from many people, including a small child. The adults asked to shake hands.
"Thank you for your service."
A phrase most heard by American soldiers from civilians. When I heard it, it felt strange. How was I supposed to respond to this? I managed to think of it just in time.
"Thank you for your support."
Several children wanted to take photographs with me. They unabashedly called me a hero. It was nothing unusual. Here, kids learn to call soldiers, firefighters, and police officers heroes, and they are brought up confirming it with their parents. Such an atmosphere is even policy-driven.
It felt unfamiliar. Since commissioning, I had never been to an American civilian zone. Coming here for the first time, it was a completely different world than the refugee zone. Not abundant, but people hadn't lost their smiles, and the children didn't know hunger. The double barbed wire beyond the lawn seemed like the boundary between civilization and savagery.
I also reunited with those rescued from Paso Robles after a long time. Even among those who had been hostile towards me to the end, the miracle of Santa Maria — though it felt embarrassing to keep hearing it — had changed some of their minds upon hearing the recent news. I graciously accepted their apologies.
Principal Stuart Hamill still regarded me as a student. His expression remained troubled throughout our conversation. Though a good person, he was unwavering.
While later sitting and resting, an elderly man, who was a Vietnam War veteran, approached me. He had many wrinkles and deep-set eyes. He asked about the battles I experienced, then recounted his own past.
"The wars I fought in had many battles that were far from honorable."
His recollection was heavy. Battlefields where it was impossible to distinguish enemy from civilian. Mistakes made in hatred and anger. Sharing these stories, he said to me,
"You're fighting the right fight. Don't have any regrets to the end."
I etched the veteran's advice into my heart.
#Journal, page 68, Camp Roberts
Today's news included some information worth noting.
The strange mutants encountered in Santa Maria had been officially named.
"Ghouls."
They don't differ much in shape but are said to be vastly superior in capability compared to ordinary mutants.
The CDC announced that 「Morgellons」 had moved beyond merely adapting to hosts and was unlike any disease or parasite seen before. Just as humans utilize their environment, develop, and create tools, 「Morgellons」 uses, develops, and turns humans into tools.
Accordingly, the classification criteria for mutants have been redefined. Mutants are now to be categorized by their capabilities for enhanced mutants, and by their function and form for special mutants, assigning separate grades and names to each mutant.
Meanwhile, the Department of Defense proposed a new measure to block mutant gatherings. They announced plans to install 3,000 "Noise Makers" along the western blockade to lure mutants through sound. Experiments at the site have been ongoing to this end.
It's conceived as a tactic to secure safety by disturbing the area when ground troops are deployed. If realized, the camps would become significantly safer.
Furthermore, the Department of Defense declared its intention to establish advance bases in contaminated areas. They aim to place artillery here to reinforce fire support in these zones.
I'll likely be involved in related missions going forward.
#Reality (2), San Miguel
Several days after the training started, Gyeo-ul decided on a field study. The reserve members were afraid just to leave the camp. This psychological barrier needed to be addressed.
One person refused to the end. A woman who was so frightened she was on the verge of losing her reason. Gyeo-ul eliminated her without hesitation.
Although the field was much safer than other places, it was still the closest stronghold to Camp Roberts, frequented by task forces several times a day.
"Don't let your guard down, though. There's always something coming from outside. According to this morning's aerial reconnaissance, there are a few of them throughout the town. Considering the buildings, there could be more."
Gyeo-ul's light warning made a few gulp.
Following the road running parallel to the railway, they entered from the north side of town. The first thing they saw was a half-destroyed flour mill. The remains of a train lay abandoned. The scene bore the harsh signs of battle. Marks of explosions and black bloodstains scattered on the road. However, the bodies had been piled up and burned to one side, the effort of a later-visited task force.
"Little Leader, this is where you had your first fight, right?"
"Yes, that's correct. We were collecting food from the mill when a derailed train crashed into it, with each car packed full of mutants."
The reserve members cautiously inspected the train, appearing like tourists following a guide in a row.
"Would the passengers have been evacuees?"
"It seems there was an infected person among the passengers."
"There's a doll over there! So there were kids too. Poor things..."
Their whispered conversations still carried tones of civilians rather than soldiers.
The streets were very desolate, with various markings left behind by the US Army dotted around. These marked the locations of shelters and weapons, and food supplies prepared for emergencies. Means of communication were also set up for possible survivors.
"First, try to get used to the atmosphere."
"Ah, yes!"
Someone, overly nervous, answered much louder than necessary. They startled themselves, and their voice drew disapproving stares from others.
Yura wasn't much better off. Despite having experienced an outdoor mission once, she was still scared. Her hands were trembling. She only endured due to considering herself the team leader. It hadn't been long since the incident at Paso Robles, after all.
"Ah, there are mutants over there."
Gyeo-ul discovered them. One mutant was wandering near a roadside motel. The moment the people froze, the mutant spotted them, happening almost simultaneously.
Kkaaaa-!
The form of death came charging. The boy looked at the people.
"Don't shoot. I'll capture it."
"Sorry, capture it?"
The people were startled but didn't intervene.
To the mutant, Gyeo-ul was the nearest food. It charged, and the boy took a step to the left and spun. With 「Close Combat」Level 10, a precisely executed roundhouse kick struck the mutant's lower jaw directly. Thwack! An impressive sound. The protruding tongue was severed and a small piece of blackened flesh plopped onto the roadside.
Gyeo-ul delivered several more blows to the dazed mutant, stuffed a prepared cloth wad into its mouth, gagged it securely, tied the knot behind its head, and dragged it by the scruff, leaving a trail of blood. The mutant was drooling profusely from its mouth.
"Wow..."
To the reserve members, it was astonishing. Until now, infected mutants had been an abstract fear. Fear without a real form just grew. This, however, was utterly and simply shattered. Witnessing it right in front of them was a completely different experience from watching it on TV.
"Now, come closer. This is an infected mutant. Most of you are seeing the real deal for the first time, right?"
With pale faces and exhausted expressions, they nodded just barely. A woman who had fallen on her rear, a man wanting to run away, and others who froze, unable to decide how to react.
Gyeo-ul was holding the mutant by its neck from behind. His thick fingers dug deep. The enhanced strength from stacked skills on various fronts meant that ordinary mutants stood no chance against Gyeo-ul's force. The twitching was futile. The boy spoke.
"First, let's experience what it feels like to be caught by a mutant."
"What?!"
"The point of today is to overcome the fear. Since Yura is the leader, she goes first. Then we'll go in order from the left."
Considerable time was needed. Yura tearily, hesitantly moved within the range of the mutant's reach. The discolored hands gripped her arms.
"Hiiik!"
Yura went completely rigid. It was supposed to be practice to shake it off, but she couldn't move. Gyeo-ul, witnessing this, smacked the back of the mutant's head with his free hand. With a heavy thudding sound. The mutant's grip slackened for a moment due to being dazed, letting Yura escape hurriedly. She barely took a few steps before collapsing, sobbing. The other women gathered to comfort her.
Gyeo-ul rotated through them several times. Until the mutant no longer grabbed them at all.
Mmmnngh...
A subdued groan, muffled by cloth and the gag. Even mutants had basic intelligence. Repeated punishments instilled a learning effect that surpassed hunger and instinct. Now it wouldn't grab even when people approached, only rolling its eyes. It looked almost glum. Unlike before, people no longer feared it. Some even dared laugh.
"Ah, another came at just the right time too. Seems they heard this one shout earlier."
Just as Gyeo-ul mentioned, five mutants came rushing from afar on the road. There was still distance. Gyeo-ul repositioned his grip on the captive mutant. Previously, he was holding the back, but now it was caught from the front. He stretched it towards the men.
"Anyone want to twist its neck and kill it?"
"What?...... What!?"
People panicked. They alternated their gaze between the approaching mutants and the boy. Many reached for their guns. Gyeo-ul stopped them and calmly urged.
"There isn't much time. Hurry up."
"......"
"I guess I'll have to choose one of you. You, step forward."
The chosen man's face reflected despair. He was reluctantly pushed out by those around him. Gyeo-ul nodded.
"Hold one hand on the back of its head... no, the other way. Yes. And support its chin with the other. Grabbing it from the front could get you bitten. Now, apply strong force with both hands. Then, give it a sharp twist!"
Crunch. It twisted assuredly. The man shuddered and dropped down.
Almost simultaneously, Gyeo-ul turned around, reloading his pistol. In a semicircular motion, he fired ten rounds. At a mere ten-meter distance, the mutants' knees were shattered noisily as they rolled forward. They fell harshly. Wherever they hit, the flesh was scraped off.
With their legs incapacitated, they crawled forward using their arms. Gyeo-ul went over, pulled out all the arms, and temporarily disabled their breathing by striking their solar plexuses. They became quiet. Arms askew, bones broken at the knees. All five mutants floundered on the ground.
"Now, anyone can come and shoot each one."
A while later, Gyeo-ul sighed.
"It seems I'll have to choose people again."
The five selected by him readied their trembling hands, aiming their respective guns. Three men and two women. Each hesitated or feared without exception. Although mutants, their appearance was human. Just decayed and filthy. Therefore, hesitation was inevitable.
"Shoot."
A strong demand delivered without expression. After stealing glances, someone finally pulled the trigger. That set off a chain reaction of bursts.
Tat-tat-tat! Pow! Pow! Pov-tat!
Different firearms sang together. One even needed to retake aim for a missed shot. A woman shot with her eyes closed entirely. She was lucky to hit.
Even this was a fairly positive outcome. Some would never have pulled the trigger otherwise. The man who previously twisted the neck is one of them. The influence of 「Instruction」 expedited their actions. It also helped minimize any side effects.
One woman tearfully protested.
"This is too much. How can you make a woman do such a thing?"
It was a remark bursting forth due to terror, overflowing with emotion. When she regains her mental equilibrium, she will likely feel ashamed herself. To press further would be foolish.
Gyeo-ul indicated the dead mutant and crafted a gentle voice.
"Look. It really only takes the strength needed to pull a trigger to fight. It's not a big deal. Women can fight and become just as strong as men."
He met eyes with each individual as he continued.
"In a world like this, a strong person is essentially just someone who survives."
The protesting woman bowed her head. Only her soft sobs could be heard. Gyeo-ul soothed her in a quiet voice.
"Survive. I'll ensure you do."
---------------------------= Author's Afterword ---------------------------=
1. Many seem to have questions about skill levels, but the author wishes to leave it to readers' imaginations.
Still, if you need a clue, take this just as a reference.
Suppose Simo Hayha, who reportedly sniped without once using binoculars and shot while skiing, would be around level 12-13. This is not an official setting and can change at any time.
2. The title of the military song mentioned in the last chapter is "My old granny She's 91."
It is indeed a real military song. However, the lyrics may vary slightly by unit.
3. I uploaded seven episodes last week and five this week. I think I deserve a break now.
...
The labor standards law, the labor standards law!