00067 --- The Little Prince in the Ossuary----=
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#Seventh California - Camp Roberts (4)
The mopping-up operation had been nothing serious. The spreading fire posed a bigger problem. Before the escape routes vanished, the commander issued orders to move. The reinforced battalion maneuvered through the maze of fire and smoke. The mutants following them couldn't match the vehicle's speed or outpace the spreading flames.
The fate of the abandoned ended in scorching intensity.
The closest outpost now was Camp Roberts. However, to evade the fire, they had to change direction. They moved about 20km northwest from the combat site. Throughout the journey, other combat units deployed for rescue operations and assorted civilian groups continually joined in.
'There might be a familiar face.'
If the blockade command had deployed all available resources, even the Rangers of Santa Margarita would not have been an exception. Gyeo-ul thought of Lieutenant John Frey, who had gifted him a Zippo lighter.
But for now, it was difficult. The task force alone, considering combat troops only, was more than regiment size, and adding civilians, the group numbered around 10,000. Wandering through the long procession in search of a known face was unproductive. It wasn't a desperate need either.
The task force set up a temporary camp on a ridge overlooking a lake and a city. Helicopters arrived in succession, delivering camping supplies before departing.
By the time they completed preparations for the encampment, the sun was already setting. Soldiers were granted rest time, but officers found it hard to rest comfortably. Considering the tense atmosphere, the battalion commander wished officers would encourage and console their troops during their downtime. That's one of the reasons officers get paid more than soldiers.
Gyeo-ul was no exception. Encountered by Bravo Company soldiers, whom no longer saw Gyeo-ul as merely a boy, each expressed their complaints and anxieties.
"I don't understand why we're lingering here. There could be another attack anytime. Wouldn't it be better to push on to camp and rest?"
Such remarks were expected. The remaining distance to the camp was shorter than what they had traveled during the day. However, it was impossible. Gyeo-ul managed a wry smile.
"We have to consider the Camp Obispo people too. Think how tough it must be for them. And what about the civilians? We're only managing to keep going with stimulants, after all."
People who had endured extreme conditions, whether soldiers or civilians, were collapsing from relaxation everywhere. They were completely exhausted physically and mentally. Stimulants were of little help in such cases. Rest was the only answer.
"Be that as it may, what about that over there?"
A soldier pointed towards the southeast sky. The lower horizon was glowing red, resembling the western sky at sunset. Despite the distance, the smell of burning reached them.
Without any information, Gyeo-ul would have been worried too. Given the fire's spreading speed, it could grow into a wildfire capable of burning through a decent-sized country.
"It's alright. I've been informed there's a high chance of rain before midnight. It should pour all day tomorrow."
"Really?"
"Why would I lie? Actually, it's strange you haven't heard yet. Ah, the situation is confusing, so the communication system must be disrupted. Spread the word to the others."
"Well, alright then."
Even though he should feel relieved, the soldier seemed sullen. Meeting several similar soldiers, Gyeo-ul understood. They wanted to return to camp at any cost.
Though not to the extent of Camp San Luis Obispo people, Bravo Company at Camp Roberts was also enduring a harsh day... no, a second day. Stress leads to backlash. It's only natural to desire to rest comfortably in familiar surroundings.
From the civilian encampment came sounds of sobbing. Given the larger scale compared to Camp Roberts, the collapse brought immense sacrifices.
"Private, do you have a moment?"
A stranger soldier showed an exaggerated response to Gyeo-ul's gesture. His shell shock was apparent. Constantly rubbing his fingers, he appeared very unstable. Yet, he was armed. It seemed Camp Obispo's commanders weren't spared any room either.
Or perhaps there were too many to manage.
The soldier stammered.
"W-w-what's the matter?"
"No, it's nothing. I just wanted someone to talk to."
Expressing empathy to the other party. In truth, it's the soldier who likely craved a conversation and someone by his side. In such situations, not letting them feel treated with pity proved more effective.
Of course, in normal circumstances, the context would be obvious. But the soldier was far from normal. As he approached clumsily, Gyeo-ul guided him along with a pat on the back.
"Is this spot okay?"
It was a bonfire around which fellow battalion soldiers sat. Recognizing Gyeo-ul, they welcomed him with diverse remarks and actions. Among them, some had unfamiliar accents. Quite fitting for an army of a multiethnic nation.
A place was quickly made for the two. After seating the soldier, Gyeo-ul naturally took his rifle. The others had piled their weapons against each other. Gyeo-ul and the shell-shocked patient's rifles joined the stack, resembling the frame of a teepee.
Despite enduring a day of fire and smoke, the warmth amidst the cold night was welcomed. Logs scattered at Gyeo-ul's feet. Picking one up to toss into the fire, he asked the soldiers.
"Where did you find the firewood?"
"There's a hut nearby. Seems to have been a hunting lodge, had a fireplace. No owners now, so we borrowed it nicely."
Cheerfully said, yet technically illegal. The US government worked hard to maintain an optimistic atmosphere, spreading the notion that even abandoned properties could eventually be reclaimed.
'Who knows what today's events might lead to.'
No idea yet how many were lost in a day. Not the time to ask those grieving. But for the US, in a relatively stable position, this was a calamity not seen in a while. Atmospheres would change significantly.
The soldier Gyeo-ul brought crouched silently, still rubbing his fingers.
"Hey, Penwood. Have some of this."
Unable to ignore it, a colleague offered a cup. Steam rose from the hot liquid.
Even after receiving the cup, the anxious soldier, Penwood, asked hesitantly.
"What s, should we talk a, about now?"
Gyeo-ul offered a gentle, starlit smile.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"No, no, it's not like that."
"Think of it as making a friend, regardless of rank. So what do friends talk about in America? I really don't know, being Korean."
It wasn't a particularly clever joke, but it made everyone laugh aloud. They needed an opportunity to laugh, perhaps. Even Penwood managed a stiff smile.
A female corporal named D'Angelo grinned.
"Usually, we're not keen on befriending officers, but we'll make an exception for you. You saved our lives earlier."
"Hmm?"
Upon hearing that, Gyeo-ul realized he recognized them. Faces from the incident earlier in the day, including those who subdued the panic-stricken soldier, Gilliard. Gyeo-ul nodded.
"Ah. We've met before. I'm glad to see none of you are hurt."
"I was impressed by your quick judgment and shooting skills during that chaos. And my, I've never seen such rapid weapon switching. The only place you see such fast hands is on the Las Vegas gambling tables. Born natural, aren't you."
"Don't worry. I'm not interested in card games."
"I don't befriend people who can't handle cards, you know?"
"Oh, dear."
The soldiers shared another fit of chuckles. Once silence settled, Gyeo-ul asked the female soldier.
"Is Private Gilliard alright?"
"He's been evacuated. They said there's a 100% chance of being medically discharged because of his hand. With the back of his hand shattered and two fingers popped off, being a soldier again would be tough."
The bullets supplied to recent US troops were maximized for non-lethal incapacitation. The concept is contrary to penetration, delivering maximum shock instead of piercing. Essential for dealing with tough mutants than humans.
Bullets from Gyeo-ul's pistol were no different. Hit five times, Gilliard's hand might be unusable. Even with successful treatment, aftereffects would linger for life. Gyeo-ul spoke with a slightly subdued tone.
"Sorry to hear that. Please give him my apologies when you meet."
"Huh? Oh, nonsense."
D'Angelo frowned, hearing what sounded absurd.
"I bet he'd be grateful. You stopped him from causing trouble, got him transferred to the rear lines, and now he's getting discharged altogether. Damn. I envy him for the last part. The chance to live on a pension."
Originally, US military pensions required a service period of over 15 years, but the disabled veterans' pension was a different matter. However, Gyeo-ul didn't know specific details yet. Even after many iterations, it wasn't possible to know everything. Thus, his question.
"Are you sure he'll receive a pension?"
"He's served over 30 months, active frontline duty, and surely, he'll receive a Purple Heart. If he can't use one hand at all, it's 50% disability, I believe. Even if they retain some function, he'd get a 30-40% rating. There's also......that issue for now. It's unquestionable then. Hey, how much is 40% anyway?"
D'Angelo wisely avoided mentioning some issues, considering Penwood's unstable condition. The questioned soldier answered with uncertainty.
"Uh, let's see. Five hundred? Six hundred? Somewhere around that? Additional compensations for the Purple Heart, I'd say? If he's got family, that goes up too. Not sure exactly, though."
"Does he have any dependents?"
"No idea."
Gyeo-ul tilted his head.
"That's only around 600 dollars. Isn't it a tight amount to live off of?"
Thanks to Intelligence Correction, he converted the value to the early 21st-century exchange rate—about 700,000 won. The 「Insight」 worked here as well. Through Interface Intelligence's advisement, Gyeo-ul learned that this amount fell short of the minimum livelihood cost of that time.
However, the soldier promptly dismissed Gyeo-ul's suspicion.
"Hey. He can work on the side."
"Is finding a job easy?"
"Well, with the government's help, sure."
Gyeo-ul found the optimistic remark somewhat surprising. His idea of the 'government' seemed starkly different from what Gyeo-ul had experienced in life. It was an utterly foreign concept.
In reality, benefits offered by the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) extended beyond mere pension payments. This much was confirmed through the soldiers' subsequent accounts. Continuous support and honor in its literal sense—even providing loan guarantees.
Yet, there remained many homeless veterans in America. Armed with Intelligence Correction, Gyeo-ul subtly sighed internally.
'Conversely, it means that even with such measures, the issue can't be entirely prevented.'
Instilling belief in soldiers is crucial. Trusting that the state will provide for them in cases of personal failure. It's one of the reasons why America, in all iterations Gyeo-ul experienced, remained the bastion of civilization till the last. A system inherently supporting the combat power of the US military.
'How many functional nations even remain now......?'
Aside from Russia, none immediately came to mind. A vast, rugged land serving as a natural barrier, assisting containment and quarantine efforts in their case.
Gyeo-ul's thoughts didn't extend further.
Once the conversation turned to discharge, the discussion heated up. Discharge was inevitably a fervent topic among soldiers on the battlefield, regardless of nationality. To career soldiers, perhaps akin to contemplating retirement life?
Despite still struggling to control his hands, Penwood remained the same.
After participating briefly, he suddenly burst into tears.
"Sob—hic, hic, sob."
He continually wiped tears away with trembling hands. The smiles gradually faded among the soldiers. Some turned misty-eyed, others patted shoulders, offering encouragement. Gyeo-ul fell into the latter group. Pleasing as kind voice-making was ingrained in Gyeo-ul's lifetime etiquette.
"Let it out. They say bottling up tears becomes ailment."
Penwood cried into Gyeo-ul's chest for quite a while.
"Truly, I look forward to your continued support."
D'Angelo's words to Gyeo-ul carried substantial depth.
After Penwood had calmed, Gyeo-ul departed the bonfire. The upper command had been reaching out to him via radio. It was Gyeo-ul's first meeting with the 1st Battalion commander of the 「Seventh California」.
The Latin battalion commander awaited alone, bereft of other staff. Though having a firm impression, he appeared fragile somehow. Traces of arduous hours stretching from dawn. Emotions felt by the responsible party differ significantly from a soldier's.
Gyeo-ul saluted.
"Second Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul. I heard you called for me."
"Lieutenant Colonel Pharel Ramos, the battalion commander. Nice to meet you. Have a seat."
The battalion commander greeted the young officer and, as standard, initiated with praise.
"You fought well today."
"Did you witness it yourself?"
"By coincidence."
A brief pause. As the lieutenant colonel gazed at Gyeo-ul, he leaned forward with his chin on his hand.
"What are the outside sentiments like?"
"Not good, but it looks to be stabilizing."
"You're different from other officers......"
What did he mean by that? Because of recent exploits, did he mean Gyeo-ul eased the soldiers' minds more effectively than other officers? No, a slightly different nuance. There's a meaning not captured.
Gyeo-ul didn't yet grasp why the battalion commander summoned him. The commander noticed his confusion as well.
"Are you curious why I called you?"
"To be honest, yes."
"It's nothing much. I just wanted to meet you. It felt like I should thank you for helping us through challenges."
In the battalion commander's eyes, showing gratitude, underlying fatigue, and guilt were visible. Gyeo-ul didn't miss that momentary glimpse. It held significant weight.
The battalion commander moved to the next topic.
"From now on, we'll be garrisoned at the same camp."
"Are you saying my assignment is changing?"
"No. Only our garrison is relocating."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. Though Camp San Luis Obispo's proximity to the city made it a strategic location, serving both as a southern pathway and, in turn, a route to the sea. Securing Morro Bay would mean a Pacific base. But given the circumstances, the higher ups will likely focus on strengthening Camp Roberts."
Though logical, the reason seemed unnecessary for Gyeo-ul, being his first meeting with someone from a different unit.
Ah. Now Gyeo-ul seemed to understand. The notion of being unlike other officers. It might have meant that the other officers lacked respite.
In the end, the battalion commander was among those needing purposeless conversation.
Sometimes, people find comfort in simply being with someone. Merely being present suffices. Nevertheless, owing to his position, the battalion commander mustn't display weakness. So, rigid, formal topics became the conversation's framework.
Gyeo-ul sat in silence, wordlessly comforting the battalion commander.
---------------------------- Author's Note ----------------------------
1. Before starting the serialization, the author lacked confidence in daily serialization. I'm the type who compensates for lacking talent with time. So initially, I participated in a contest.
Even if I didn't win, wouldn't they offer to serialize for noteworthy works?
However, the Little Prince in the Ossuary neither won nor got contacted...
And now, they say the site is closing this month.
It's called Esol.
...
Anyway, I next inquired about serialization with Lezhin Comics' novel section, but they declined, saying it didn't match.
And now there's news of a fire at Lezhin Comics.
...
Should I consider this fortunate?...
2.
Q. Gamjakkobjil: @Jeolmiseu Kidding about Steam 1,000? I have 57 and feeling the burn...
A. So it is. Rust players, report to the author after you deal with Gamjakkobjil.
Q. Muffle: @Not that I can't play purchased games, but if I don't play them right away, I lose interest. Recommend Rainbow Six Siege over Division, a Ubisoft masterpiece.
A. If time permits, I'd love to play Overwatch. Haha. A dream for someone pulling late writing nights like me.
Q. Drahyoen: @By the 10th run, do you become a swordmaster in the human realm?
A. It varies per person and depends on how each run was spent. The possibility exists.
Q. Bombz: The time the author spends on Q&A could have been used for writing...
A. Q&A takes about 5 minutes. In that time, I could manage a line or two. Don't feel too sorry. :)
---------------------------- Clacky's Corner ----------------------------
Reading the author's note feels like looking into his experience and struggles as he is working on the novel.