Chapter 39

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"Ngh···. Mmph···."

The North Korean soldier swallowed his scream and curled up. The place where he'd been struck hurt terribly, but experience had taught him what would happen if he made another loud noise.

"S-sergeant?"

"Give me a fucking break. Look at you, suddenly a human rights activist. Don't you remember this bastard pointing a rifle at your heads? Find something to tie his hands with."

Bong-tae spoke, glancing at the soldier. The soldiers began searching around the charred remains of the two-and-a-half-ton truck. After rummaging through the boxes scattered throughout the cargo bed, they found a rope that had been used to secure the cargo.

"W-we'll tie him up with this."

"Yes. Tie his hands and his torso, everything. The rest of you, gather the rifles and magazines."

Two soldiers pulled the North Korean's hands behind his back and tied them securely. They wrapped the rope around his waist several times as well, in case he tried to struggle. The other two gathered the fallen rifles and magazines in one place.

Bong-tae climbed onto the riverbank and surveyed the surroundings. Apart from the sound of flowing water, everything was so quiet that the commotion moments earlier seemed like a lie.

There were no lights from North Korean soldiers rushing toward them after hearing the gunfire. Bong-tae rubbed his chin for a moment and fell into thought.

He had assumed they would be safe after crossing the stream, so finding North Korean soldiers on the opposite bank was unexpected.

'How far the hell have they advanced?'

Bong-tae's thoughts grew complicated for a moment. If North Korean forces were operating east of the bridge as well, moving recklessly would be dangerous.

'Wait. I can just ask that bastard directly.'

Bong-tae turned and approached the bound North Korean soldier. Blood was flowing from the man's nose and mouth, staining his combat uniform red. When Bong-tae stood before him, the man flinched and lowered his eyes.

"Hey, how far has your unit advanced?"

"···."

"Fine. So that's how you want to play it."

Shing—

Bong-tae drew the bayonet tucked into his vest. Although he'd wiped it against his clothes, the blade was still sticky with blood. Only then did the North Korean soldier open his mouth.

"O-our reconnaissance unit is the farthest forward."

"And the main force?"

"They're assembled west of the stream. There are only a very few of us out here···."

"Was your mission to reconnoiter across the stream?"

"Well···. That wasn't originally the plan···."

The North Korean soldier trailed off and began mumbling. He was reluctant to reveal his unit's plans, and his expression showed that he was calculating how much to say and whether he should lie.

Seeing the North Korean's anxious expression actually reassured Bong-tae. At the very least, the man before him didn't seem experienced enough to fabricate convincing lies.

"Forget it. You can just die here too."

Bong-tae roughly grabbed the North Korean soldier's shoulder as though he were truly about to stab him. The soldiers watching Bong-tae were startled. The North Korean thrashed his legs almost convulsively.

"N-no! No! I'll tell you! We originally had absolutely no intention of crossing the stream, but we came over after seeing a cargo truck and South Korean soldiers overturned on this side."

"You're not lying?"

"No. Look around. You don't see any other reconnaissance teams nearby, do you? There's been so much shooting here···."

The firefight a short while ago had produced a considerable amount of gunfire. If the North Korean main force had already secured this area, reinforcements should have arrived long ago.

That meant this was the boundary where North Korean forces and the 8th Division's area of control met. Bong-tae nodded briefly.

"Fine. But if I see even one North Korean soldier, I'll shove this straight into your neck."

"···Everything I've told you is true."

"We'll see. Everything I've said is true too."

The soldiers returned after organizing all the captured equipment. Like Bong-tae, they now had Type 88 assault rifles slung over their shoulders. Bong-tae turned toward them.

"Are the other bastards all dead?"

"Yes. They're all dead."

"Let's go."

"Do you know the way?"

"I know roughly which direction to go. I don't know where the encampment is, though. Staying here is too dangerous, so follow me."

The soldiers exchanged glances with Bong-tae, then quietly counted, "One, two," and bowed deeply. Apparently, they'd agreed to bow together on the count. Bong-tae chuckled at the sight.

"Thank you so much. We survived thanks to you."

"That's enough. Let's move."

Bong-tae pressed his rifle muzzle firmly against the North Korean prisoner's back. Every time the pointed piece of metal jabbed into his lower back, the prisoner flinched.

"Move."

"Y-yes! Understood."

The captured North Korean walked at the front, Bong-tae followed immediately behind him, and the other four soldiers walked together behind Bong-tae.

Bong-tae climbed back up the embankment where he'd left the soldier with broken legs. The man was still lying prone in the bushes.

"Hey, you're not dead yet, right?"

"Yeah···. It still hurts like fucking hell···."

"You shot pretty well for someone in that much pain. Hang in there a little longer. I think we're heading in the right direction."

Bong-tae addressed the biggest corporal among the soldiers following behind him.

"Excuse me."

"Yes? Me?"

"Yes. Let's carry this man on your back."

"Y-yes! Understood. I'll carry him. Of course···."

Without hesitation, the large corporal slung his rifle around to the front and knelt down. The other soldiers carefully lifted the wounded man onto his back, and he slowly stood, gritting his teeth.

"Ugh··· There we go."

"You two at the back, keep watching above us and to the sides as we walk."

"Yes. Understood, Sergeant."

In South Korea, soldiers from different units address one another as "mister." It isn't because they don't know each other's ranks, nor is it out of politeness. It's because they're practically strangers, with neither reason nor authority to give one another orders.

"Mister" is a term of address intended to maintain distance, as though they were third parties outside the military hierarchy.

But Bong-tae naturally began giving the soldiers instructions. He added polite endings to his sentences and softened his wording slightly with phrases like "Let's do this," but they were still orders.

Yet the soldiers felt neither the slightest displeasure nor awkwardness at Bong-tae's commanding tone. If anything, his instructions seemed to put them at ease.

The fact that he had rescued them from almost becoming prisoners was reason enough, but in just over ten minutes, Bong-tae had killed North Korean soldiers, captured and interrogated a prisoner, gathered intelligence, and determined their route back.

The soldiers privately thought that they could never have accomplished such things, even if they died and came back to life. They had become convinced that if they simply followed this man's instructions, they could escape this hell alive.

"Let's go."

"Yes! Understood, Sergeant!"

"···What's with the 'Sergeant'? What's gotten into you guys?"

"Nothing, sir! Let's go!"

Night had completely fallen over Namyangju. Not a single building in the city was illuminated, so the only things lighting the way ahead of Bong-tae's group were faint moonlight and two flashlights captured from the North Korean soldiers.

Bong-tae avoided climbing onto the road. Their silhouettes might be exposed to any passing enemy troops. Using the embankment as cover, they moved cautiously alongside the road.

"Hey, you bastard. Stop stumbling and walk straight."

"I can't see very well in fro—"

"Want me to make sure you can't see at all?"

"N-no."

Namyangju was deathly quiet at night, as though the city were holding its breath. The only sound the group made was the occasional low groan of the wounded soldier being carried at the rear.

Whenever even that stopped, they could faintly hear frogs and insects calling near the stream and the pools of water along the road.

"Urrgh···."

"Are you okay? Fuck, if only we had some painkillers···."

"I'll try to endure it···."

Bong-tae chewed on his lip. He vaguely remembered hearing somewhere that even broken legs could become life-threatening if left untreated for too long.

They walked east for another twenty minutes. Just as they were leaving downtown Namyangju and the mountains were drawing closer ahead of them.

Someone suddenly sprang up from the dark bushes and shouted at Bong-tae's group.

"Halt! Move and I'll shoot! Hands above your heads!"

The North Korean prisoner flinched in surprise and shrank back. Bong-tae raised both hands as though he'd been expecting this.

Several flashlight beams fell across the ground at their feet. A brief commotion arose beyond the bushes where the voice had come from.

The soldiers walking behind were indeed wearing the same friendly combat uniforms as the sentries, but the man at the very front, wrapped tightly in rope, was unmistakably North Korean.

"Calendar!"

"Lily."

When Bong-tae answered the challenge with the correct password, the sentry's tone grew somewhat calmer. His voice also became quieter.

"Keep your hands raised. If you move even slightly, we'll fire."

"Yes. Understood."

"Which unit are you with?"

"Sergeant Kim Bong-tae, 2nd Platoon Leader, 33rd Battalion, 8th Division, along with five others. We also have one North Korean prisoner."

Now Bong-tae could hear the voices inside the bushes.

"A prisoner···?"

"You're saying they captured him themselves?"

"Hey, isn't that the enlisted platoon leader? I think that's him."

"We're going to shine a light on your faces. Don't move."

Someone raised a flashlight and checked the faces of Bong-tae and the soldiers behind him.

"Please wait a moment. Keep your hands raised."

"Yes. Understood."

The sentry took the radio from his shoulder and exchanged several brief transmissions. As befitted a guard post positioned at the very front of the encampment, the situation was immediately relayed all the way to the division's command and control room.

"Come this way. We're turning off the lights."

The flashlight beams went out one by one. Complete darkness returned to the area. Bong-tae's group entered the guard post.

For a hastily constructed outpost, it was surprisingly well equipped with sandbags, camouflage netting, and even a mounted machine gun. Four soldiers were standing guard.

"Someone will be here to escort you shortly. Please sit over there and wait a little."

"Thank you."

The soldier pointed toward the base of a tree behind the outpost. Bong-tae collapsed onto the ground. All the tension he'd been carrying vanished in an instant. For some reason, he felt a sting in his nose as emotion welled up.

"···Fuck."

Bong-tae silently looked down at his hands, which were still trembling faintly. Mud and dried blood clung to the cracked skin of his palms. Dark reddish grime had worked its way beneath his fingernails, and it looked unlikely to come out easily.

"Seriously, what a spectacular end to my military service. What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

Bong-tae chuckled and looked up at the night sky. There were so many beautiful stars that it was hard to believe this was the sky above a city where fierce fighting had taken place all day.

"How ridiculous."

A short while later, hurried footsteps sounded from behind the outpost.

"Second Platoon Leader!"

"Sergeant Kim!"

Several escorts came running toward the guard post from the encampment. Among them were faces Bong-tae was delighted to see. Staff Sergeant Kim Hong-je and Hwang Gi-tae.

Staff Sergeant Kim Hong-je was expressionless as usual, while Hwang Gi-tae looked ready to burst into tears beneath his dirt-covered face. He poured out his worries to Bong-tae.

"Fuck! Thank God. I seriously thought you were dead!"

"Bullshit. What about the others?"

"Everyone's fine. Nobody's hurt. Where the hell did you go?"

Bong-tae patted Hwang Gi-tae on the shoulder. As usual, he wanted to put on a shameless expression and tell him to stop making such a fuss. But this time, the words wouldn't come out.

He knew perfectly well that he'd genuinely come close to dying this time. Several times, in fact.

The two-and-a-half-ton truck he'd been riding in had exploded on the bridge, sending him falling ten meters into the water below. And as soon as he'd regained consciousness, he'd fought North Korean soldiers twice.

No matter how fearless and confident Bong-tae usually was, thinking back on what he'd experienced over the past two hours made his hands and feet tremble. Staff Sergeant Kim Hong-je approached him.

"We all thought you were dead. Even after returning to the encampment, we'd been searching the surrounding area by platoon."

"Thank you. I fell off the bridge because of a drone, but luckily I landed in water and survived."

"Are you injured anywhere?"

Bong-tae casually swung both arms around, pretending nothing was wrong.

"I'm fine. I can move."

"Let's go to the medical battalion first."

"I'm f-fine. I can rejoin the unit right away."

"No. You're going, no matter what. Stop arguing and follow me."

Bong-tae couldn't argue any further with Kim Hong-je's firm words. Hwang Gi-tae pointed toward the Type 88 assault rifle hanging around Bong-tae's neck.

"That's a North Korean rifle, isn't it? Where'd you get it?"

"Well···. A few things happened. I'll tell you later."

"And how did you end up bringing that bastard along?"

Hwang Gi-tae glanced at the North Korean prisoner crouching in the corner.

"There's a story behind that too."

"Good grief. Sounds like you've been even busier than we have."

#

Among the escorts who had arrived with Staff Sergeant Kim Hong-je and Hwang Gi-tae were members of the 8th Division's Military Police. There was one captain and two soldiers.

One military policeman blindfolded the North Korean prisoner, then began removing the equipment he was carrying and placing each item into a sack. The prisoner offered little resistance. Perhaps already exhausted, he simply hung his head and staggered along.

Wartime didn't mean procedures disappeared. If anything, it was even more important to follow procedures strictly during the early stages of a war.

The North Korean prisoner captured today would be transferred swiftly to higher headquarters after the 8th Division's Military Police obtained his initial statement.

With the 7th Corps currently planning an advance north, he would be transported to the corps headquarters' Military Police unit and put in a position where he would have to reveal everything he knew.

"That bastard's had a rough day too."

As Bong-tae watched the prisoner disappear toward the encampment, a military police captain approached him. Staff Sergeant Kim Hong-je saluted the captain. Bong-tae also tried to rise from where he was sitting.

"No, no. Stay seated."

"Yes. Understood."

The man had an exceptionally gentle face. If he hadn't been wearing a military uniform, he would have looked more like a teacher of ethics or a religious figure than a soldier. And perhaps fittingly for his appearance, he spoke politely to Bong-tae despite the latter being only a sergeant.

But he too seemed to have experienced fierce fighting today. His combat uniform was scorched in several places and covered in dust.

"I'm Captain Han Myeong-jo of the 8th Division Military Police. You're Sergeant Kim Bong-tae, 2nd Platoon, 33rd Battalion, correct?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"When I asked those soldiers over there, they said you personally captured that North Korean soldier. Is that right?"

"Ah···. Yes, that's right."

Captain Han Myeong-jo took a notebook and pen from his combat vest and began writing down Bong-tae's words.

"I heard you killed three North Korean soldiers while capturing the prisoner. Is that correct?"

"Yes. That's correct. I shot and killed two of them, and the man over there with the broken legs shot the other one."

"Excellent."

He nodded emphatically.

"I also heard there was a bit of a physical struggle during the prisoner's capture. Is that correct?"

'A physical struggle···.'

It was difficult to describe striking an opponent whose hands and feet were already bound in the nose and mouth with a rifle stock as a physical struggle. Anyone could see that it wasn't strictly necessary to subdue the prisoner. But Bong-tae didn't hide the truth.

"Ah···. Yes. I struck the bastard lying on the ground twice with my rifle stock. No, three times."

"Hmm···. There was no physical struggle···."

Captain Han Myeong-jo wrote a few words in his notebook and nodded calmly.

"N-no, Captain. With the stock of this rifle, I hit his mouth and nose···."

"It didn't happen."

Only then did Bong-tae understand Captain Han Myeong-jo's intention, and he answered briefly.

"Yes."

The captain stopped writing and snapped his notebook shut. Then he patted Bong-tae on the shoulder.

"Frankly, it's remarkable. You not only rescued friendly soldiers but also killed enemy combatants and even captured a prisoner alive."

"R-really, sir?"

Bong-tae's face reddened slightly. He awkwardly scratched his chin.

"I'll add Sergeant Kim Bong-tae's achievements this time to the record as well. I'm looking forward to it."

"···Add them to what, sir?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

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