WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ The Little Prince in the Ossuary

00040 <-- #Journal %26 #Internal Affairs -->

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#Journal, Page 65, Camp Roberts

The medal ceremony was held. Just 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. He was a major from the Public Affairs Office. He still looked anxious and jittery, but he wasn't wearing a gas mask like before. It was now almost certain that "Morgellons" didn't spread through the air.

The major's eyes were complicated when he looked at me. A mix of admiration and displeasure in his gaze. If you looked closely, the feeling was something like, "What's with this guy, always making me come here?"

Once again, the battalion commander read the citation on his behalf. Given the occasion, I was wearing my Army dress uniform. The medals had grown in number and carried quite a bit of weight. Far more cameras than before captured this scene. Reporters who had risked danger to cross the containment line. They clung to me like starving animals.

"How does it feel to achieve the fastest promotion to second Ensign in United States history, at the youngest age?"

"Please tell us about the situation during Operation Santa Maria!"

"Please share your thoughts on your future commitment!"

Up to this point, things were fine.

"Do you have a girlfriend? If not, what's your ideal type?"

"What kind of food do you like?"

"Do you have anything to say to your fans?"

Why on earth were these questions coming up? And what was this about fans?

Throughout the ordeal with the reporters, Major Bliss stayed by my side. He skillfully controlled the journalists. That question was inappropriate, show me what you wrote, change this part like this, don't broadcast this on air. It was clear interference with the press, but the journalists seemed to accept it easily. It was one aspect of the patriotic coverage that Lieutenant Capstone had pointed out. The global crisis situation probably made it even more pronounced.

Ah, I should call him Captain Capstone now. His promotion date was today, so it hadn't quite settled in yet. It was a special promotion given for the achievement of discovering me, apparently. It was a good thing, but the person in question went around with a sour expression. He grumbled that it was embarrassing, that I should have been given more awards.

Other soldiers who came to congratulate me said similar things.

"Looking at your combat achievements alone, even the Medal of Honor wouldn't be enough, and yet it's just the Silver Star?"

"Right. Even if you look through all the past Medal of Honor recipients, there's no one who accomplished as much as Ensign-nim in a single battle. At best, maybe John Basilone or, I don't know, Murphy?"

"Those two are certainly... but in my view, Gyeoul-nim seems even better?"

The conversation between Ratchman and Sergeant Siris. I just smiled at them. Sergeant Pierce jumped in.

"It's politics."

"What do you mean?"

"The higher-ups' thinking is obvious. They want to create a refugee leader, but they don't want to give too much power to one person... something like that. They learned their lesson from Afghanistan."

The example Sergeant Pierce gave, I'd heard it once before. Was it when I was assigned a manager role just because I spoke English well? It was a plausible analysis. They might be worried about an uncontrollable armed group emerging. Never put all your eggs in one basket, as they say.

"Sergeant-nim, you're surprisingly knowledgeable about that stuff. On the outside, you just look like a muscle-bound tough guy."

Guillemy said this and got hit. Even though it was a light strike, he groaned and whimpered. The sergeant retorted.

"How many years do you think I've been in? I hear so much from my peers in the regiment and division. Politics exists in the military world too. If you want stars on your shoulders in this field, you've got to be good at politics. Even regular officers or knuckleheads like you are the same. Don't you know William Swenson? If the higher-ups dislike you, it's hard to get recognition no matter how well you fight."

The sergeant used "stars" with a double meaning. Even though I didn't know who William Swenson was, seeing everyone nodding suggested he was someone who'd been dealt with unfairly.

"But Ensign Han-nim, is this really the end?"

Guillemy's question. I shook my head. For now, it was just the medal, but further promotion was planned for later. According to Major Bliss, it would be "after acquiring the appropriate qualifications."

The appropriate qualifications meant more thorough officer training. As the refugee volunteer army formation plan was being continuously reevaluated because of me, the expected standards were also changing.

For now, I would receive additional training from officers in the field, and later I would take qualification exams at military education facilities. He said he would notify me through his subordinate once a specific schedule was set. It turned out his subordinate was Captain McGuire.

The captain's words about the sergeant hating him came to mind. The fatigue and discomfort glimpsed in the major's eyes. This was what he had meant.

After the award ceremony, a celebration party was held in the U.S. civilian residential area. It wasn't part of the official schedule, but the camp commander had approved it at the civilians' request.

I received bouquets from many people, including a small child. Adults requested handshakes.

"Thank you for your service."

The phrase U.S. military personnel hear most often from civilians. Hearing it myself felt strange. What was I supposed to say in response? I managed to think of it just in time.

"Thank you for your support."

A few children wanted to take pictures. They called me a hero without hesitation. It wasn't anything special. Children here were taught that soldiers, firefighters, and police officers were heroes, and they grew up having this confirmed by their parents. Such an atmosphere was also created through policy.

It was unfamiliar. Even after commissioning, I had never visited the U.S. civilian residential area. This place I was visiting for the first time was a completely different world from the refugee residential area. It wasn't affluent. However, people hadn't lost their smiles, and children didn't know hunger. The double barbed wire fence beyond the lawn looked like the boundary between civilization and barbarism.

I also had a long-awaited reunion with people rescued from Paso Robles. Even among those who had been hostile toward me until the end, some changed their stance after hearing about the "Miracle of Santa Maria"... it's embarrassing to keep saying it like that, but anyway, after hearing this news. I accepted their apologies with good grace.

Principal Stuart Hamill still thought of me as a student. He wore a complicated expression throughout our conversation. A good person, but stubborn.

Later, while I was sitting and resting, an elderly man who introduced himself as a Vietnam War veteran struck up a conversation. He had many wrinkles and deep eyes. After asking about the battles I had experienced, he brought up his own past.

"The war I experienced had many dishonorable fights."

His recollections were heavy. A battlefield where enemies and civilians couldn't be distinguished. Mistakes committed out of hatred and anger. Telling me these things, he said to me:

"You're fighting the right fight. Don't leave yourself with regrets until the end."

I took the old soldier's advice to heart.

#Journal, Page 68, Camp Roberts

Today's news contained several pieces of information worth paying attention to.

The strange mutants we had encountered in Santa Maria. They were officially given a designation.

"Ghouls."

They didn't look much different in appearance, but they were individuals far superior to ordinary mutants in terms of ability.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced that "Morgellons" had moved beyond the stage of adapting to hosts and was an existence unlike any disease or parasite discovered so far. Just as humans use the environment, develop it, and create tools, "Morgellons" also uses humans, develops them, and turns them into tools.

Accordingly, the classification criteria for mutants were being reorganized. They would distinguish enhanced mutants using capability as a measure, distinguish special mutants using function and form as measures, and attach separate grades and names to each mutant type.

Meanwhile, the Department of Defense presented new measures to block mutant groups. They would install "Noise Makers" connected by network at 3,000 locations west of the containment line to lure mutants with noise. They said they had been conducting experiments in the field for this purpose all along.

The concept was to disrupt the surrounding area when deploying ground forces to secure safety. If realized, the camps in various places would also become much safer.

The Department of Defense further announced they would establish forward bases in each contaminated area. The plan was to deploy artillery there to strengthen fire support for contaminated areas.

Related missions would probably be assigned to me in the future.

#Internal Affairs (2), San Miguel

Several days after training began, Gyeoul decided on field training. The reserve members were afraid of just leaving the camp itself. This psychological resistance needed to be eliminated.

One person refused until the end. It was a woman who was so frightened that she lost her reason. Gyeoul eliminated her without regret.

Even though it was called the field, it was much safer than other places. As the closest base to Camp Roberts, it was a route that mission units passed several times a day.

"That said, don't relax. They keep flowing in from the outside. According to this morning's aerial reconnaissance results, there seem to be a few throughout the city. Considering inside buildings, there might be a few more."

Gyeoul's light warning. Several people swallowed dryly.

Following the road that ran parallel to the railroad tracks, they entered the northern part of the city. The first thing visible was the half-destroyed mill. Train wreckage was left abandoned. Traces of fierce battle remained as they were. Marks from exploded bombs and black bloodstains splattered on the road. However, the corpses had been piled to one side and burned. It was the effort of mission units that had visited later.

"This is where the young captain fought for the first time, right?"

"Yes. That's right. We were gathering food at the mill when the derailed train crashed into it. Each car was packed full of mutants."

The reserve members cautiously examined the train. They looked like tourists following a guide in a line.

"They must have been evacuating citizens, right?"

"There must have been an infected person among the passengers."

"There's a doll over there! Children must have been on board too. Poor things..."

Conversations whispered among them. They were still closer to civilians than soldiers.

The street was very eerie. There were markings left by the U.S. military everywhere. They indicated the locations of shelters, weapons, and food prepared for emergencies. Communication means were also prepared for any possible survivors.

"First, try to get used to the atmosphere."

"Ah, yes!"

Someone tense answered unnecessarily loudly. The person themselves was startled first, and glares poured from the surroundings.

Yura's situation wasn't much better. Even though she had already experienced one external mission, she was still frightened. Her hands trembled. That was how much she was enduring because she thought of herself as a squad leader. Then again, not much time had passed since Paso Robles.

"Ah, there are mutants over there."

Gyeoul spotted them. A mutant was loitering near a motel by the roadside. People's startled reactions and the creature noticing them happened almost simultaneously.

Kuaaaaaah-!

The form of death came running. The boy looked back at the people.

"Don't shoot. I'll catch it and bring it over."

"What? You'll catch it?"

People were shocked. However, they couldn't stop him.

From the mutant's perspective, he was the closest prey. It lunged. The boy stepped left and rotated. With Close Combat at Grade 10, a proper roundhouse kick directly hit the mutant's lower jaw. Crack! A grand sound. The tongue it had stuck out was severed. A small, blackened piece of flesh fell on the roadside with a plop.

Gyeoul beat the dazed mutant a few more times, then stuffed a prepared bundle of cloth into its mouth, fitted a gag, tied it firmly behind its head, grabbed its nape, and dragged it over. Bloodstains remained. It was because of what the mutant was drooling from its mouth.

"Wow..."

From the reserve members' perspective, it was bewildering. Until now, infected mutants had been a vague fear. Shapeless fear only grew larger. That had been smashed so simply. Seeing it on a TV screen and seeing it in person were completely different experiences.

"Now, look. Come a little closer. This is an infected mutant. Most of you are seeing the real thing for the first time, right?"

The group just barely managed to nod with their spirits crushed. A woman who had fallen on her bottom, a man who wanted to run away, and other people who could neither do this nor that and just froze.

Gyeoul was holding the nape from behind the mutant. Strong fingers digging in firmly. Because of the strength bonuses stacked from various skills, ordinary mutants couldn't withstand Gyeoul's physical strength. Flailing and thrashing, its frenzy was nothing but futile struggle. The boy said.

"First, let's experience what it feels like to be caught by a mutant."

"What?!"

"The purpose of coming here today is to overcome fear. Since Yura-ssi is the leader, she'll go first, then from the left in order."

It took considerable time. Yura, with tears welling up, hesitantly entered the distance where the mutant could reach. A pair of discolored hands gripped both her arms.

"Eek!"

Yura completely froze. This was also practice for breaking free, but she couldn't move at all. Gyeoul, who had been watching, struck the back of the mutant's head with his remaining hand. A heavy impact sound. The mutant's strength briefly left it as its skull shook. Yura quickly escaped. After not getting far, she sat down and sobbed. Women gathered to comfort her.

Gyeoul made the rotation go several rounds. Until the mutant no longer grabbed anyone.

Uuuuuuh...

A groan made small by the cloth bundle and gag. Even mutants had basic intelligence. Being beaten every time it grabbed someone, the learning effect had surpassed hunger and instinct. Now, even when people approached, it didn't grab them and just rolled its eyes around. The sight looked dejected. People no longer became frightened like at first. Some even laughed boldly.

"Ah, they're coming at just the right time. They must have heard the noise this guy made earlier."

As Gyeoul said, there were five mutants running toward them from far down the road, screaming. There was still distance. Gyeoul readjusted his grip on the mutant. Until now, he had held the back of its head, but now he was holding it from the front. He held it out toward the men.

"Would anyone like to try killing this by twisting its neck?"

"Wha… What?!"

People became urgent. They looked back and forth between the mutants running in the distance and the boy. People raising their guns. Gyeoul stopped them. Then calmly urged.

"We don't have much time. Quickly."

"..."

"I'll just have to designate someone then. You there, come out."

The designated man had a miserable expression. Pushed out by those around him, he had no choice but to come forward. Gyeoul nodded.

"Hold the back of its head with one hand... no, the opposite direction. Yes. And with your remaining hand, support its chin. If you grab from the front, you might get bitten. Now, put all your strength into both hands. Do it, and twist! Sharply!"

Crrrack. It twisted cleanly. The man shuddered and sat down.

At the same time, Gyeoul drew his pistol and turned around. He fired ten shots in a fan shape while rotating halfway. At only 10 meters away, mutants with shattered knees rolled forward noisily. They fell hard. Skin peeled off wherever they hit.

Unable to use their legs, they crawled with their arms. Gyeoul went over and pulled all their arms off. He struck their solar plexuses so they couldn't even breathe for a while. It became quiet. Dislocated arms, shattered knees. The five mutants just lay face-down on the ground, wriggling.

"Now, anyone come out and shoot one each."

A moment later, Gyeoul sighed.

"I'll have to designate people this time too."

The five designated people aimed their respective guns with trembling hands. Three were men, two were women. Without exception, they were hesitating or afraid. Even if they were mutants, their appearance was the same as humans. Just more rotten and dirty. Therefore, resistance was inevitable.

"Shoot."

A strong demand delivered without expression. After looking around at each other, someone pulled the trigger. Using that as a signal, a chain reaction of firing followed.

Rat-tat-tat! Thwip! Thwip! Rat-tat!

A chorus of different types of firearms. Someone who couldn't hit even from point-blank range shot again. One woman shot with her eyes closed. Lucky she hit.

Even so, this was a favorable result. Originally, there were people who absolutely wouldn't have been able to shoot. The man who had twisted the head earlier was the same. The influence of Teaching had shortened their actions. It would also reduce the side effects.

One woman protested while crying.

"This is too much. How can you make a woman do something like this?"

It was words that came out however they would, terrified. Emotions were just overflowing. Once she regained mental composure, she would be ashamed herself. Pressing the issue would be foolish.

Gyeoul pointed at the mutants that had died and fallen. He created a gentle voice.

"Look. The strength needed to fight is actually just enough to pull a trigger. It's nothing impressive. Women can fight too, and can become as strong as men."

Making eye contact with each person one by one, he continued.

"In a world like this, a strong person ultimately means someone who survives."

The woman who had protested lowered her head. Only the sound of quiet sobbing came out. Gyeoul comforted her in a low voice.

"Survive. I'll help you survive."

Footnotes:

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