WeTried Translations
Translator: Coughing Baby
Editor: Coughing Baby
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 418: Wind from High Places (16)
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The Independence Day parade through the city streets began in grand fashion. The Independent Battalion's place in the order was wedged between the JROTC and the Russian airborne troops. The crowd's enthusiasm was tremendous, partly because war heroes like Gyeoul were taking part, and partly because Americans rarely had the chance to see a military parade on this scale in the first place. Before the plague, the U.S. military had never placed much importance on parades. Everyone in the world already knew America was the strongest, so what was the point of showing off?
Today, parades were being held in both D.C. and Denver, offset by a time difference. D.C. held one every year regardless of scale, but for Denver, this was the first. It was highly unusual, and entirely the result of accommodating the airborne troops and the Independent Battalion. Naturally, interest from the local community had reached a fever pitch. Judging by the passionate response, at least in Colorado, there seemed to be no need to worry about public opposition to the advance into China.
The members of the Independent Battalion, many of whom were refugees, were bewildered by the atmosphere of the event for a different reason.
"This is very different from what I imagined."
Li Ailing said this while watching the live broadcast on a Net Warrior terminal during the short wait for their turn. Her voice sounded rather sour. A little deflated, too.
The other companies were similar, but Bravo Company, which she belonged to, had shared a strong anxiety about this event. They had not practiced marching nearly enough. Some had even complained that perhaps they had deliberately been denied practice so they would humiliate themselves as a group.
But U.S. military marches were a far cry from the razor-sharp inspections of the Chinese style.
Gyeoul, riding Xcel, looked down at her and said, "I told you. There's nothing to worry about. You just have to keep roughly in step."
Even if their steps did not match, it would be fine. He had repeated that several times to reassure them. He had even shown them old footage from before the plague spread. But soldiers from a country that pinned needles inside collars to keep troops' chins fixed could not bring themselves to relax. They kept thinking this time might be different.
It was proof that they still felt their position was unstable.
Kramer had probably influenced that too, of course.
"Lieutenant Colonel! Please look over here!"
A loud commotion came from nearby. When he looked, he saw the high school marching band and cheer squad whose turn was coming up. They were shouting and waving at him. When Gyeoul gave them a simple salute, an even louder cheer came back. Li Ailing looked even more drained beside him. It was called a military parade, but in practice, it was almost a festival the military happened to be taking part in.
The cheer squad and marching band went out while playing a march, and the JROTC, the local Junior Reserve Officers' Training Corps, followed behind them. Now it was the Independent Battalion's turn. Gyeoul turned the reins and advanced to the front of the battalion.
"You know what to do, right? Each Company, follow at your own discretion."
That was enough as an order over the radio.
A single line of cavalry spread across the road followed Gyeoul, carrying flags.
"This makes me feel like we've gone back to the old days."
It was "Ale" Alejandro speaking. He meant the days when they had used Olema as a base and operated as cavalry. Right on cue, Xcel snorted. Gyeoul stroked his mane and answered with his eyes forward.
"Those were hard times. It's amazing we somehow made it this far."
"Still, looking back, they're good memories. I also met a perfect superior, except for his sense of humor."
"What's wrong with my sense of humor?"
"Are you asking because you truly don't know?"
"I don't."
When Gyeoul played innocent, Ale grumbled to himself. He was a man who held grudges for a very long time.
Large and small American flags fluttered in the wind on both sides of the road. Gyeoul wondered about the mood of the soldiers following behind him. Alpha Company had often experienced the strong goodwill of civilian society, but for the other companies, today was their first time. The residents of Leadville liked the Independent Battalion too, but the town's population was so small to begin with that it could not be expected to change the soldiers' perceptions.
'I hope this has a positive effect.'
If they were going to do a parade anyway, he wanted it to do the soldiers some good too. That was Gyeoul's thought as their commander. The Chinese and Japanese service members carried a kind of defensive aggression. Envy and wariness, inferiority complexes and a sense of victimhood. Most of it came from their backgrounds.
Perhaps directly facing the goodwill of the citizens today would help break down that invisible wall.
The Independent Battalion had not yet become a true community of shared fate.
Conversely, if the Independent Battalion could achieve that, then perhaps the same might someday be possible in the refugee zones.
The tune played by the marching band ahead changed. It was Russian. A singer in a Russian military uniform sang from the parade car that followed.
"Apple and pear trees were blooming, clouds drifted over the river. Katyusha came out onto the riverbank and walked along the high, steep shore."
"Oh! Song, maiden's song. Fly after that shining sun and carry Katyusha's greeting to a soldier on the distant border."
It was called a military song, but its melody was basically taken from a folk tune, and the lyrics written during World War II were about a woman named Katyusha longing for her lover who had gone to the battlefield. The citizens' reaction dipped a little as the song alternated between English and Russian. There was even a hint of awkwardness in the air. Then again, Russian troops marching through the middle of an American city must have felt surreal enough for some conservative citizens, and the military song being Russian as well would only make it more bewildering.
Still, they were one of the few allied forces properly fighting the plague, so even amid the slightly cooled mood, the citizens worked hard to wave their American flags and welcome them. It was a sight that would have been unimaginable in the past. A sense of fellowship born from the crisis of humanity's extinction.
Gyeoul remembered the campaign promise of the Democratic Party presidential candidate who had lost.
The United States of Humanity.
It had been criticized as too idealistic to be realistic, but because it was idealistic, it was also a blueprint for a positive future.
He reconsidered a decision point he had already passed because it felt like a symbol of the outside world's past. As Gyeoul saw it, having repeatedly experienced reconstructed pasts, the path people had taken before the outside world fell into that state could never have been a single road. It was probably closer to the truth to guess that they had passed some critical point and become unable to turn back.
At that, Gyeoul gave a bitter smile.
'Anne's expression really was accurate.'
His wish was in a place too high.
The parade ended when they entered Mile High Stadium in the city center. They circled the stadium once to the cheers of the citizens filling the stands, waved, and exited.
After that, in the wide parking lot, there was a half-day event where various armored vehicles and equipment were shown to the citizens. It was the first time the airborne armored vehicles and tanks were being unveiled to the public. In an age when survivalist camouflage patterns were fashionable even in everyday clothes, plenty of ordinary citizens were curious about the new weapons systems.
Of course, not everyone was like that.
"Sir, Sir!"
An eight-year-old child in a military uniform called out to Yura.
"What is it, little Marine?"
Yura smiled and lowered herself to the child's eye level. The little Marine saluted her with a tiny hand, then immediately asked a difficult question.
"Where did you put your tiger-skin cloak?"
The public affairs office had once again recommended that she wear the cloak. They had not forced it, though. Even if Denver was a city one mile above sea level, its summer days were famously hot and humid.
Still, they had been persistent enough about recommending it that Yura now shuddered at the mere sight of the cloak.
"I can't walk around in a cloak on a hot day like this, can I? I'm human too."
Yura tried to sound gentle, and the child, disappointed to learn that the tiger warrior woman suffered from heat like ordinary people, turned to Jin-seok this time.
"Captain, Captain!"
Jin-seok's eyes twitched. The Captain seemed to sense something ominous.
"What is it?"
"What does your nickname, Ppak-you, mean?"
"..."
To be exact, it was not Ppak-you, but Ppak-hyung. It was short for "pissed-off brother," a nickname that came up when the soldiers spoke among themselves. Naturally, nobody ever said it out loud when Jin-seok was present. Jin-seok hated it even more than "Pissed-seok." Gyeoul wondered how the little boy had learned that nickname.
Jin-seok glared at Yura, who was laughing silently, then gave the child a softened explanation.
"It means a very strict Company commander in Korean."
"Aha, I see."
The child nodded, then delivered a much stronger attack.
"I thought Ppak-you sounded like Fuck you, so I thought it had something to do with that."
"Jimmy! You mustn't use words like that!"
The mother who had come with him hurriedly scolded her son.
"Apologize to the Captain. Now!"
The child obediently apologized.
"I'm sorry if I offended you. I'm glad it doesn't mean something as bad as I thought. Some of my friends call you Captain Fuck because of that, so I'll tell them not to do that too."
"..."
It was an apology, but one that left a very unpleasant, painful aftertaste. Jin-seok's face reddened in silence, and the mother, not knowing what to do, apologized once more on the child's behalf.
Finally, the child stared at Gyeoul. His eyes were full of expectation. He seemed like the type to save the strawberry on top of the cake until the very end.
"Lieutenant Colonel, Lieutenant Colonel!"
"Yes?"
"Can I touch that sword?"
Thankfully, it was a normal request. Gyeoul knelt on one knee, unfastened the longsword, handed it over, and warned him.
"You could get hurt, so be careful, all right? Don't draw it all the way."
The little boy nodded eagerly and took the sword, then staggered under its weight and stared in amazement. The blade was titanium, but the core was tungsten alloy. Gyeoul quickly caught him and helped him regain his balance. The sword slipped about half a span out of its scabbard. The contrast between the pitch-black scabbard and the blade was stark. Gyeoul firmly covered the child's hand with his own to keep him safe. The child opened his mouth when he saw the light reflecting off the sword.
"Wow! This is so heavy! How can you swing something like this around?"
"You'll be able to do it too once you grow up."
The child said happily, "When I grow up, I'm going to be like Dad or you, Lieutenant Colonel."
"Are you?"
"Yes. Then I'll rip apart and kill tons of variants!"
"..."
"But I'm really worried you might kill them all before I grow up, Lieutenant Colonel. Please leave my share for me."
Gyeoul could not bring himself to answer. He looked up at the mother with an awkward smile. The child's mother covered her forehead and sighed. Oh, Jimmy...
The other things the child wanted were Gyeoul's autograph and a chance to ride Xcel with Gyeoul. Enjoying the higher view from the saddle, the child innocently asked Gyeoul behind him.
"Why didn't you become a Marine, Lieutenant Colonel?"
"I never had the chance."
"Then how about becoming a Marine now? My dad said real men have to become Marines. And..."
"And?"
"He also said that if Lieutenant Colonel Han had joined the Marine Corps, you'd be three times stronger than you are now."
Han Gyeoul, three times stronger than he was now. From the variants' perspective, that would be terrifying.
The child's late father seemed to have taken deep pride in being a Marine.
Jimmy, Jimmy's mother, and the families of other fallen service members had been given the chance to meet Gyeoul and the other war heroes first as a kind of special courtesy.
A little later, as he returned the child to his mother, Gyeoul told her this.
"Ma'am. Jimmy will become an adult as admirable as his father."
The mother's eyes reddened slightly, and she nodded quietly before taking the child and turning away. Jimmy kept turning back and waving energetically until Gyeoul disappeared from sight.
While meeting the other bereaved families, the pure hatred Jimmy had shown from time to time lingered in Gyeoul's mind. Since the variants' only motive for trying to wipe out humanity was instinct, people's hatred toward the plague also remained in a primal realm. It was not the product of rational thought, calculated intent, social conflict, or competing interests.
In other words, primal hatred was one branch of the power binding humanity in this world together. Every future possibility Gyeoul viewed positively, including the United States of Humanity, inevitably relied on crisis and hatred at its root.
It was obvious, and it was not a thought he was having for the first time, but at this point, that fact bothered Gyeoul all the same.
Would the people of the outside world need that same hatred too?
Footnotes:
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