EBCGM 04

Chapter 04 …

If You Can’t Avoid It, Enjoy It

The Supply Officer’s dose of absolute discipline didn’t stop there.

“Hey! Do I really have to deal with garbage like this at my rank?! Huh?!”

“…No, sir. We’re sorry…”

“I heard a new recruit joined yesterday, so I came out to check on him! And what do I find? You bastards have the nerve to attempt hazing first thing in the morning?! Is this the damn eighties?!”

The officers who had gathered quickly assessed the situation and scattered before the fallout reached them. But the NCOs weren’t so lucky. Among the non-commissioned officers, only the Master Sergeant outranked a First Sergeant.

“We will make sure to properly re-educate our men…”

“Because you slack off, the enlisted guys think they can pull shit like this! Am I wrong?!”

“…You’re completely right, sir.”

“Whew! These absolute—!”

From Staff Sergeants to Sergeants First Class, every NCO lower in rank than the Supply Officer bit their tongues and lowered their heads. But even that wasn’t enough to soothe his rage. He continued shouting, his voice laced with pure irritation.

“If I catch any of you pulling this same stunt ever again!”

“Sir!”

“You’ll be answering directly to me. Understood?!”

“YES, SIR!”

“And you, new guy!”

New guy?

The moment he threw the phrase out, his eyes locked onto me. Without a second’s hesitation, I barked out my rank and name.

“Pri-vate! Han—!”

“You. Come to the Supply Office after breakfast!”

“…The Supply Office, sir?”

“Where’s Cha Gi-dae?! Where is that bastard!”

Cha Gi-dae… that was the Sergeant who had been looking out for me since my very first day at the unit—the guy who occasionally called me ‘bro’ when it was just the two of us.

“Salute! Supply Officer, I’m right here, sir!”

“Bring him over yourself. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Ahem!”

Even if the Supply Officer didn’t look physically imposing, this brief display made it abundantly clear just how much influence he wielded in the unit. Not a single person—whether NCO or enlisted—dared to talk back to him. Even Sergeant Cha, a veteran near the end of his service, stood stiff as a board.

“…Dammit, you bastards! All of you, follow me!”

Having taken a massive beating from the Supply Officer first thing in the morning all because of Cheon Gyeong-tae, the NCOs dragged him and his cronies away from the scene.

A short while later, after a quick look from Sergeant Cha prompted the remaining senior soldiers to head back into the battalion building, he turned to me.

“I didn’t expect us to end up in the same section.”

“Pardon, Sergeant?”

“Bro, why do you think the Supply Officer told me to bring you in?”

“Does that mean—”

“Well, personally, I’m all for it!”

I recalled what I had heard during my interview with the Battalion Commander. Although I had completed my armor training at Shangmu Academy as a tank driver, he mentioned I might end up in the Headquarters Company, and that he needed to discuss it with the other staff officers. He did mention that if I really insisted on driving tanks, he could make room, but…

“Man, starting off another day with pure drama! Let me go wash up and grab breakfast.”

I walked slowly behind Sergeant Cha. No matter how nice someone acts toward you initially, you only really know a person over time. People can change on a dime, so I maintained a disciplined, textbook private posture as I followed him.

“…You’re here.”

“Salute!”

Having completed my training at Shangmu Academy, I had assumed I would naturally be assigned as a tank driver. But when I came to my senses, I was standing right inside the Supply Office.

“You.”

“Pri-vate! Han Taepyeong!”

“I heard you completed training at Shangmu Academy.”

“Yes, sir!”

Word had already reached him. Every time he asked a question, I project my voice so loudly it echoed off the walls of the Supply Office.

“Then I take it you want to be a tank driver?”

“It would be a lie to say I don’t…!”

“What?”

“My only priority is to give my absolute best to whatever role I am assigned!”

The Supply Officer tilted his head, sizing me up from different angles.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Do you know your way around a tank?”

“I received training at Shangmu Academy, but I know I still have a lot to learn! However, if you give me a chance and show me once—!”

“Enough with that. What does a tank run on?”

“It requires various lubricants, but the primary fuel is diesel!”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes, sir! Absolutely sure!”

Seeing me answer with complete confidence, Sergeant Cha watched from the side with a satisfied look, offering a subtle smirk as a silent signal that I was doing great.

“Did you work out on the outside?”

“Athletics, sir? I played American football and wrestled—”

“I heard from that idiot over there that you studied in the States, but why those sports out of everything?”

The ‘idiot’ he referred to was Sergeant Cha. I wondered when—and how much—he had spilled about me.

“Honestly, my pride couldn’t take getting pushed around by the foreign guys… and to be completely frank, I’m terrible at sports that involve using my feet.”

“You mean stuff like soccer?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Haha, what a funny guy. Soccer and foot-volleyball are the two main sports you’ll be playing in the military. So, you’re confident in sports that use your hands?”

“I’d say I’m decent.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘decent.’ You’re either good or you’re bad. Half-assing something is ten times worse than not doing it at all.”

Sports using hands… basketball immediately came to mind. Of course, basketball requires footwork too, but—

“Your height—”

“I measured 188.9 cm at my military physical, sir.”

“So basically 190 cm. Ahem. On top of that, you wrestled and played football—”

If I measure myself in the morning, I might actually hit 190 cm.

“Salute, Supply Officer!”

While we were mid-interview, another NCO pushed open the door and stepped in. A face I already recognized.

“Oh, hey! Aren’t you that guy my age I met yesterday?!”

It was the Staff Sergeant who had been duty officer the night before and talked with me briefly.

“Friends? What are you talking about?”

“Ah, haha. Well, sir, it turns out this guy and I are the exact same age—”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, Supply Officer.”

“You’re twenty-eight, right? I shouldn’t be saying this in front of him, but if you were going to join as an NCO, wouldn’t it have been better to come earlier? You’d be a Sergeant First Class by now.”

“Tell me about it, sir!”

It felt strange. We were the same age, yet I was a Private wearing a single line, while the Supply NCO was a Staff Sergeant with a chevron. The fact that both of us enlisted late was another common thread.

“Wait, didn’t you just finish night duty?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Then go get some rest! Why are you reporting for work right away?!”

“I’m still full of energy, sir! Haha.”

“…Take care of your body while you’re young. Don’t end up like me later.”

“My dream is to end up just like you, Supply Officer.”

“A grown man with such modest dreams—”

“By the way, what is this guy doing here…?”

“I was just testing the waters to see what kind of recruit he is.”

“Do you like what you see?”

“What can you tell from a brief chat? Hey, Cha Gi-dae.”

Sergeant Cha, quick on the uptake as always, grabbed a set of keys from the storage box the moment the Supply Officer addressed him, as if reading his mind completely.

“I’m trying to decide where to assign this guy—”

“I’ll take him around and observe him myself, sir!”

“…Keep a close eye on him.”

“Yes, sir! Salute!”

I wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to ‘observe,’ but I made a conscious effort to maintain a sharp, rigid stance as I followed Sergeant Cha out.

Class 1 Depot. Class 2 Depot. Class 7/9 Depot. Fuel Depot.

Following Sergeant Cha, we visited each storage warehouse managed by the Supply Section.

“…So, simply put, Class 1 means taking the supply truck to division headquarters to pick up food ingredients. Class 2 handles uniforms and gear like what we’re wearing now. Class 3 is fuel…”

At every stop, I stored away every bit of information Sergeant Cha shared, neatly filing it in my head.

“Am I overloading you with information all at once?”

“Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Yes, your explanations are extremely clear.”

“Well, since you’re part of the Supply Section now, you need to know all of it anyway. Regardless of what your main duty ends up being, if someone goes on leave or gets injured, you’ll need to cover their job.”

Wait. Is it officially set that I’m joining the Supply Section? I thought no final decision had been made yet.

“Just know the basics for now. But don’t do too well.”

“What do you mean by that—”

“I’ve told you several times since yesterday, right? Just stick to the average. Being too good is a problem, and being too bad is a problem.”

“Then what about you, Sergeant Cha?”

“Ah, me? Nobody gave me advice like this when I first arrived. So I ran around like a madman trying to outshine everyone, and ended up like this.”

“May I ask what happened to you?”

“Nah, I’d rather not talk about it myself. Anyway, just aim for ‘moderate.'”

What exactly did ‘moderate’ mean? My personality had always been to push things to the absolute limit once I started something. If I wasn’t going to go all out, I preferred not starting at all.

“This might sound out of nowhere, but…”

“Yes?”

“Do you know why I took a liking to you the moment I saw you?”

As we put on work gloves at the fuel depot, Sergeant Cha threw the question at me out of the blue.

“Ah, don’t get the wrong idea. I like women.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure.”

“I think the Supply Officer takes an interest in you for a similar reason.”

“…?”

“It’s not strictly the same as what you did, but I used to do sports for a long time myself.”

“Oh, really? What sport—?”

“I picked up a bit of everything as a kid, but the one I did seriously was Judo.”

Oh… Judo.

“Well, that’s ancient history now. I had to quit my athletic career in high school after a severe elbow injury.”

“How bad was it—”

“Anyway, yeah. I hear the Supply Officer used to be a nationally renowned Judo athlete back in his day, too.”

So that’s why he executed two shoulder throws on Cheon Gyeong-tae without breaking a sweat.

“American football is one thing, but hearing that you wrestled immediately caught my attention.”

“Ah—”

“I’m willing to bet you picked up your fair share of injuries doing those two sports in the States.”

“It would be a lie to say I was completely injury-free, but fortunately, I never suffered anything as serious as your elbow injury, Sergeant Cha.”

“That’s a relief then. Phew, I rambled on way too long about useless stuff, didn’t I?”

“Not at all.”

“As you can see, these are fuel drums filled to the brim with oil.”

“Yes.”

“…When I first got assigned to this unit, my senior told me to stand one of these up. I thought, ‘How heavy could it really be?’ and ended up completely embarrassed. I tried to lift it using pure brute strength without any technique.”

Just looking at them, they looked extraordinarily heavy.

“Alright, I’ll demonstrate first—”

“Excuse me, Sergeant Cha.”

“…Huh, what?”

“Would it be alright if I gave it a shot first?”

“Without knowing the technique? You could get hurt. Do it wrong, and your back is done for.”

Despite his warning, when I showed a firm determination to try lifting the drum before him, Sergeant Cha took a few steps back to give me space.

“Hmph—”

“…!”

CLANG!

Gripping the heavy, oil-filled drum with both gloved hands, I stood it straight up in one smooth movement.

“Wait… what the. Are you okay?”

“I feel completely fine.”

“It looked like you lifted that using purely raw strength. That feels like way over 200 kilos…”

“If it’s alright, may I stand the rest of these up as well?”

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!

I simply wanted to flex my muscles for the first time in a while. But watching me, Sergeant Cha had an expression like he had just seen a ghost.

“Bro, what did I tell you? Aim for the middle… stick to moderate… don’t be too good.”

“Ah—”

“…Looking at this, it’s already too late for that. Just how ridiculously strong are you?”