Chapter 17

7th Corps (2)

As he made his way through the sprawling corps encampment, Bong-tae gathered soldiers and officers who had no clearly assigned battalion, one by one.

More than thirty people had already been sent to the clearing beside the command post where Lieutenant Colonel Choi Pil was waiting.

Some were soldiers whose entire units had been destroyed by artillery bombardment and who had no idea where to go. Others didn't even belong to the 7th Corps but had drifted into this enormous encampment.

Whenever Bong-tae found someone like that, he wrote down their unit and military specialty on a piece of paper before sending them to Choi Pil.

The sun was already approaching its zenith. The atmosphere in the 7th Corps encampment was gradually changing as well. Vehicles that had undergone maintenance inspections during the day were now fully fueled, waiting only for the signal to deploy.

“A-are we really going···?”

“According to the company commander, we're moving north soon···.”

“Fuck···. I heard Cheorwon's been completely smashed···. Can we really do this?”

“If we can't, who will···? Shut up and keep filling the fucking tank.”

Tension was evident on the soldiers' faces. The order to advance north, which the 7th Corps commander had decided on that morning, seemed to have reached even the lowest-ranking privates in the encampment.

“Sergeant Kim.”

Hwang Gi-tae, sitting in the passenger seat, spoke in a slightly hoarse voice. Gi-tae had spent the day running between countless barracks, shouting, “Is there anyone who doesn't currently have an assigned battalion?” so many times he'd lost count.

“What?”

“How many people are we supposed to gather?”

“Don't know. The battalion commander didn't give me a specific number.”

“There really aren't many officers or NCOs around.”

“Tell me about it. We've sent quite a few soldiers over.”

“Shouldn't this be enough? Maybe we should head back···.”

Instead of answering, Bong-tae briefly stopped the vehicle and unfolded a makeshift map. They had checked almost everywhere worth visiting. Only one place remained, tucked away in the farthest corner of the encampment. Once they went there, they would have more or less completed a full circuit.

“We'll check here last.”

Gi-tae looked at the place Bong-tae was pointing to, and his expression immediately soured.

“Ah···. That place is a bit···.”

“Why?”

“There probably won't be anyone there. Let's just turn the car around and head back.”

“Why?”

“That's the field medical battalion.”

“The medical battalion?”

“Yes. It'll be full of wounded men.”

“There could still be medics or military doctors there. Let's go.”

“···Ah. There goes my trauma again.”

Bong-tae drove in that direction. Several tents had been erected side by side a considerable distance from the center of the encampment.

Red cross-shaped pieces of fabric had been attached to the tops of the tents. Beneath the camouflage netting concealing the vehicles, medical vehicles stood in place of tanks and self-propelled artillery.

And through the gaps between the open vehicles and tents came horrible screams, shouts, and groans of pain unlike anything they had heard elsewhere in the encampment.

“Ugh···.”

Gi-tae turned his face away without realizing it.

It had only been one day.

Only one day had passed since the war began. Yet this field medical battalion already appeared to have reached its limit.

Corps-level medical facilities were originally intended to rapidly triage patients, provide emergency treatment, and then transfer them to civilian or military hospitals in the rear.

A considerable number of medics, nursing officers, military doctors, civilian military employees, and volunteers were assigned to such facilities. They were also well equipped with mobile operating rooms and emergency treatment facilities in preparation for wartime.

But the number of patients now filling the 7th Corps field medical battalion far exceeded even its extensive peacetime preparations.

The biggest problem was evacuation. The only way to find out which hospitals still had available beds or could perform surgery was to go there in person. It wasn't uncommon to finally transport a patient to a hospital, only to be told the hospital couldn't accept them and have to set off for another one.

As a result, even patients who should have stayed for only a few hours were piling up in the medical battalion.

“The bleeding won't stop! Doctor!”

“Don't we have any tourniquets? Bring me a tourniquet!”

“Is the surgical tent available? We need it right now!”

“They're all full!”

Patients lay packed tightly on stretchers all the way to the tent entrances. Even among those visible from where they stood, there appeared to be hundreds of soldiers groaning in pain with their faces covered in blood.

Even the soldiers who were conscious and capable of enduring their injuries lay in the shade, groaning in pain.

“Fuck···.”

“This is why I didn't want to come here···. This place is no different from hell.”

Bong-tae drove slowly, taking in the medical battalion. He felt ashamed of himself for having thought that places like Cheorwon were the only front lines. This was another front line in its own right.

Nam Gi-baek, sitting in the back, swallowed hard.

“Fuck···. All these casualties in just one day?”

“···Looks like it.”

Then a soldier between the tents caught Bong-tae's attention.

He had three stripes on his rank insignia, making him a corporal. He was arguing with a medic guarding the entrance to a medical tent.

“No, I'm telling you I can help!”

“Look, unless you're a medic, you can't come in here!”

“I have a medical license!”

“I don't care about your license! If you're not a military doctor or a medic, get the hell out!”

A military doctor, noticing the commotion outside the tent, stuck his head out.

“Are you a doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a military doctor?”

“N-no.”

“Then leave.”

The military doctor spoke irritably. He hadn't slept a wink because patients kept pouring in, and his nerves were on edge.

“I'm a board-certified neurosurgeon.”

The surroundings suddenly fell silent. The military doctor looked the soldier up and down with an incredulous expression.

“What?”

“I graduated from Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. I used to work in the United States.”

“Then why are you a corporal···? And not even a medic?”

At that moment, a medic standing nearby widened his eyes as though he'd remembered something. He hurried to the military doctor's side and whispered into his ear.

“He's that bastard.”

“Who?”

“You know, the bastard who was on the news. Kang Min-jun.”

“Ah···.”

The military doctor's expression instantly changed from irritation to contempt. He looked as though he were staring at a cockroach. No doctor could possibly be unfamiliar with that name. No, practically everyone in South Korea knew who he was.

Kang Min-jun.

Until just a year ago, he had been one of the most famous doctors in South Korea.

He came from an extraordinarily wealthy family and had graduated from a prestigious American medical school. He possessed outstanding surgical skills and good looks, frequently appeared on television, and had a girlfriend who was a former idol turned film actress.

He was a man who had everything.

No, everything except one thing. And that was···.

Military service.

Ironically, military service had been one of the factors contributing to Kang Min-jun's popularity. As a dual citizen, he had made similar remarks whenever he appeared on television.

“I want to live as a citizen of the Republic of Korea, so I'm planning to renounce my American citizenship. I intend to serve in the military someday, too. Of course I should.”

Those words had earned him tremendous public goodwill.

And Kang Min-jun had kept his word. He renounced his American citizenship and enlisted in the Republic of Korea Army.

However, nobody knew whether it was because he was somewhat older or because of his family's influence, but he began serving as a full-time reserve soldier. His duty station was an Armed Forces hospital.

But that was where the problems began. Kang Min-jun failed to adapt to military life at all. More precisely, he didn't even intend to adapt.

He arrived late as routinely as he ate meals and frequently violated uniform regulations. His superiors summoned and reprimanded him repeatedly, but the improvements never lasted. And who knew what was wrong with him, but he presented medical certificates listing bizarre illnesses and took an unusually large amount of sick leave.

At first, the hospital's officers and NCOs tried to discipline him strictly, but Kang Min-jun was an extremely famous person. He still enjoyed considerable media attention and public approval. Gradually, an atmosphere developed in which people worried that confronting him would only turn the matter into a bigger problem.

Eventually, an ambiguous order came down from above. Just leave him alone.

Then, one day.

A media outlet exposed Kang Min-jun's conduct during military service, citing records of his activities outside the base during duty hours and his abnormal number of sick days.

As soon as the article appeared, the internet and public opinion erupted. A torrent of criticism fell not only on Kang Min-jun but also on the Armed Forces hospital and even the Ministry of National Defense.

The Ministry of National Defense completely annulled Kang Min-jun's service record. All his service up to that point was declared invalid. Kang Min-jun, who had been on the verge of discharge, was made to enlist again and assigned to a new unit.

His new assignment was the 17th Aviation Group, a unit with no connection whatsoever to medicine. His duty was to work at the PX.

Naturally, the soldiers of the 17th Aviation Group didn't like him either. Who would like a lazy, utterly incompetent soldier? Kang Min-jun was an outsider within the unit.

It was the same here.

With war raging, nobody wanted to share a trench or tent with someone like Kang Min-jun.

Kang Min-jun had been the only soldier to survive the bombardment of the 17th Aviation Group. He'd barely made it out of that hell and managed to reach the 7th Corps medical battalion, but even here, all that awaited him were cold stares.

“Corporal. If you don't leave immediately, you'll be punished under military law.”

“···Isn't this a situation where you need every helping hand you can get? I could certainly be of use—”

“I'd rather borrow a hand from an animal than yours. Get lost.”

“···Understood.”

Kang Min-jun stared at the ground and sighed deeply. Bong-tae slowly drove the vehicle over and stopped in front of him. Hwang Gi-tae, sitting beside him, was startled.

“Sergeant Kim? You're not thinking of taking that bastard with us too, are you?”

“Why? Is there a problem?”

“Don't you know Kang Min-jun?”

“I do.”

“···.”

“The battalion commander will decide.”

Bong-tae climbed out of the vehicle. Seeing a soldier in a combat uniform covered with dirt and blood approaching him, Kang Min-jun looked at Bong-tae nervously.

Even though Kang Min-jun was considerably taller and larger, he was thoroughly intimidated.

“W-who are you?”

“Hey.”

“···Yes?”

“What's your unit?”

“The 17th Aviation Group.”

“I haven't seen any helicopters in this encampment.”

Kang Min-jun lowered his head.

“Everyone died, and I ran away. The helicopters couldn't take off and were all destroyed. Most of the soldiers died after inhaling gas. The ones who survived fled somewhere, and I don't know where they went.”

“Why didn't you run away too?”

“That's···.”

“And why are you hanging around here?”

“···Because I am a doctor. I thought I might be able to help···.”

Bong-tae opened the rear door of the vehicle.

“Get in.”

“···What?”

“I said get in. There might be something for you to do.”

“Sergeant Kim!”

Hwang Gi-tae shouted from inside the car. Implicit in his words was the question of whether they were really going to accept someone like that, no matter how desperately they needed personnel. Bong-tae narrowed his eyes and glared at Hwang Gi-tae.

“They say he's skilled, don't they? A genius, right?”

Kang Min-jun spoke urgently.

“I pride myself on being the best in South Korea!”

“Bullshit.”

“···Gulp.”

“Just get in already.”

His mouth snapped shut. Bong-tae gave Kang Min-jun a light push on the shoulder. Kang Min-jun looked back and forth between the vehicle and Bong-tae with a bewildered expression.

“···Sniff.”

Not a single person had offered him a helping hand all day. His nose began to sting with emotion. Just as he was about to make a grateful expression, Bong-tae's already thin patience snapped at the sight of Kang Min-jun continuing to dawdle.

“Get in! Get in! Get in! Get in! I said get in, you fucking bastard!”

“Ah! Y-yes!”

Bong-tae began pounding Kang Min-jun's helmet as though having a fit. Kang Min-jun hurriedly took a seat in the back of the vehicle. With him aboard, the vehicle quickly turned around and sped off in the opposite direction.

Inside the vehicle, Kang Min-jun discreetly examined the soldiers riding with him. They weren't quite as battered as the sergeant he'd just spoken to, but the sergeant in the passenger seat and the private first class now looking at him with displeasure also appeared to have been through hell.

‘I'm fucked.’

Only then did he realize that the place they were heading to was no ordinary military unit. He wanted to smack himself in the head for getting into the vehicle without even asking where they were going.

“You've got that 'I'm fucked' look on your face.”

Hwang Gi-tae spoke with a grin. Kang Min-jun gave the pleasant, friendly smile he'd always displayed on television and answered cheerfully.

“Not at all. I've never thought anything like that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Then start thinking it now.”

“···What? W-what should I think?”

“Think about how fucked you are.”

“Haha!”

Everyone inside the vehicle burst into laughter. Everyone except Kang Min-jun.

© Jungle Pocket #22844