Chapter 3. The Outpost of Rising Moon

The abandoned helipad was covered with moss and bushes. Three years after the last hold out team's departure, the helicopter rotor's strong winds caused the abandoned items to move. The terrifyingly faded newspaper was reporting the Argentina's Falklands Island invasion which was started in April 1982. An old beer bottle, which stood narrowly on the edge of the box, was eventually blown away and broken.

The helicopter briefly touched down on the dilapidated Helipad. All the platoon members pointed their muzzle out to prepare for any possible situation. Major Dylan and Captain Oxton also clenched the throttle lever and prepared to go up immediately, too. But except for the trees flapping in the wind, the jungle seemed quiet. Kim signaled, and the platoon jumped out of the helicopter and unloaded its equipment.

[Hey Kim, just a second.]

Kim tried to take off his headset when Captain Oxton called him. Captain Oxton was gesturing to come to him. Kim went to the cockpit. Captain Oxton extended one arm and patted Kim lightly.

[Take care, my friend. Be careful out there.]

Major Dylan also smiled bitterly at Kim. Kim also nodded to Captain Oxton and Major Dylan with a light smile.

The helicopter left, leaving a strong wind. The platoon members briefly looked at the helicopter moving away.

"Let's concentrate, everyone. Quickly carry out equipment and supplies checks, now!"

Everyone took out two grenades at a time and hung them on their shoulder suspenders or at the belt. Kim opened the revolver's cylinder. Five new rounds that received in the morning were neatly inserted.

"Everyone, ready your weapons. Load the chamber from now. Don't forget to be on the all-around lookout. Don't forget about no and never individual shooting, and if you feel anything suspicious, start by informing the person next to you."

Everyone pulled the charging handle and put the rounds into the chamber. Joseph put the grenade into the M79 grenade launcher. Kim suddenly felt strange in the actions of one of the platoon members at the moment.

"Paul?"

Kim called Paul's name. While staring blankly at the jungle, Paul looked at Kim with little flinch by shock.

"Yes, Sarge?"

"What's wrong? Why do you look distracted?"

Paul hesitated as he was agonizing for a moment, and then approached Kim and said.

"Something seems off, Sarge. It's true that I am new and inexperienced, but I have never seen the jungle as quiet as here."

Kim raised his head and looked at the surrounding jungle. In the calm jungle, only the sound of leaves hitting themselves by the wind could be heard softly. Paul was right. Something was wrong. Where's the sound of grass worms, birds, or any kind of wildlife?

There was no sound but the leaves. Could the jungle be so silent? Every platoon member looked around. Nothing moved or made a sound, except the dense trees swaying in the wind and the old remnants of abandoned, covered in greenery.

Kim looked around and opened his mouth.

"Something is not right."

Vincent slowly raised the M60. However, Kim grabbed the gun cover with a snap.

"It's still too early, Vincent."

Kim looked back at the platoon members and said.

"Keep the gun loaded, but try to avoid shooting as much as possible. I feel like we shouldn't make too much unnecessary noise in here. Mind you all."

Berk pulled his collar once, looking uneasy, and nervous.

As they passed the burned-out and flipped Jeep, all members of the platoon began to be gripped by an unknown source of anxiety. Kim read the unit number of the vehicle on the crumpled bumper. The unit number of the 3rd Airborne Brigade that was in charge of the place three years ago still visible clearly. He was convinced once again that this was the place at that time.

"Something doesn't feel right."

Brian mumbled out. Albert removed the moss growing on the ground with his boot's nose. The plants were covering it, but charred debris and ground were revealed. The marks and the degree of carbonizing seemed to prove that napalm had once swept away.

In the way of the platoon's going, there was a rusty iron objects were rolling around. Turner picked it up.

"The Hell is this?"

"It's a Ppsh-41. It's a gun used by Viet Cong. Never seen it, Turner?"

Kim said. The wooden handle and the butt stock had long gone, and the barrel and body were getting rusted, charred.

"Can the V.C.s be here?"

Kim looked into the rusty gun.

"Yes, if it was Three years ago, I would have suspected like that. But from this, the original owner of this gun may be shattered around here, too. And who said you could pick up anything on the ground carelessly?"

Kim hit Turner in the back of the head. The gun fell to the floor with a clang.

"Please be as serious about this. No one knows what's on the floor, right? Are you going to learn up if you pick up a landmine and got your hand busted?"

"Sorry, Sarge."

Kim sighed while looking at the forested road ahead.

"Christ, I don't know if there's anything worse than a mine."

Everyone silently stepped deep into the jungle. Kim, who was at the forefront of the platoon procession, had to be very nervous every step he took. Unidentified objects that were protruding randomly among the bushes continued to look like the detonator of a mine. Everyone had their safety lever on, but the fingers on the trigger showed their tension that they could start shooting at any time.

The platoon continued on forward. Traces of the past actions were sticking out in places. The iron frame of the tent, which stood all burned and bare, was serving as a support for the thriving plants. The half-torn and charred Stars and Stripes added to the ominous-looking to this place.

"I can't believe they didn't bring the flag out. Were they out of mind?"

"I think they were exterminated or rushed out so hurry without having time to think about it."

Vincent and Brian exchanged words one by one. Kim tried to pretend not to know. Brian was absolutely right, but he had to hide as much as possible that the every brigade's troops are dead except for almost 10 peoples who survived, and that the platoon leader in front of them was one of those soldiers.

Abandoned water tanks, numerous water pipes, and sandbags. Abandoned simplicity barrack tents and military supplies were mixing into the jungle habitat. Except for the traces of Napalm's sweep, most could be said to be intact. The place, where the hell show of 83 had unfolded, still had a long way to go. This was the location of the rear outpost base, and to the front line, of course, it seemed that everyone would have to walk until tomorrow, given the current pace.

Despite the lengthy trek, the jungle was still strangely silent. Even if the sound is not loud, the sounds of insects, birds, and animals should be heard occasionally by now. No matter what the topic was, everyone cannot come out to any kinds of conversation. It wasn't just landmines that made the platoon members shit scared. It might be the area where the damn Viet Cong burrows were located. By cleverly disguising the entrance of the tunnel and using a strategy of fleeing after a surprise, they constantly waste our forces fighting power. They didn't build a simple underground tunnel, it was more than an underground base, even traps in such a complex structure that cannot even recover the bodies except for their own forces. The British federal army suggested the use of bunker-buster bombs like Tall Boy in the late 1970s, but after several tests, concrete bunkers could be effective, but for the bunkers built directly under natural terrain, proved to be not very effective. So now, if we're lucky enough to find a tunnel, it's changed to putting poison gas or napalm into it until all of them are gone to hell.

"Whoa!"

Paul, who was following Kim right behind him, fell over the grass as if something had caught in his ankle.

"What the?"

Kim looked back in surprise.

"I'm sorry, Sarge. I got tripped over on something."

"Be especially careful where the 'long' grass grows. It may be something could be hidden underneath the grass and not visible, and also the grass itself could binds on our ankles. Plus, if the hidden object is a mine, it's probably the worst outcome for all of us."

"Yes, Sarge."

Private Paul was about to get up when he realized he had fallen over something covered in moss and weeds.

"Aaaahhhhhhh!"

Paul's scream reverberated through the jungle. The entire platoon looked back at Paul.

"What the Fuck?! Is it the Viet Congs?!"

Vincent aimed the M60 and toured everywhere. Others targeted their rifles at random.

"Everyone, get your guns down! Get your gun down, you Fuck Face Assholes!"

Kim shouted. Then, he looked around quickly and continued.

"Get down, everyone. Duck and Cover! Christ!"

Everyone hid in the grass in a prone position. Private Paul was still looking at the object that surprised him, curled back. Kim looked around with his head slightly out. It seemed that there is nobody around that could hear the sound of the platoon is making.

"Get up, everyone. And don't let your guard loose."

The platoon rose slowly. Brian examined the tree limit line with a telescope. Kim approached Paul.

"Why, what is it?"

Private Paul pointed his finger silently with a deathly pale face.

The human upper body skeleton, which had been almost burnt out and carbonized black, lay in the grass. It had been a while since this man died, but the level of charredness made it difficult to even guess it was he or she or moreover where did this person belonged.

"What is it, Sarge?"

Berk came running and asked. He also found a charred skeleton.

"Oh, dear. What a poor fellow."

"Go and calm Paul down. I think he's quite terrified."

Berk and Turner raised Paul and began to comfort him. Fortunately, there seemed to be no big problem, except that Paul was got shocked. Actually, Kim initially tried to yell at Paul. Christ, how he'll even gonna fight properly as he got so scared like this as just seeing a dead body? And also screaming in middle of here is just like a try to advertise our position to possibly exist-able enemies.

But looking at the burnt-out skull, his thoughts changed in an instant.

Something was off the course. There's still a long way left to the front line, but where did this fella come out and died out here? Everyone surely was in hurry back in 1982's withdrew, so damn hurry as they even forgot to take the star-spangled banner, but that can't be the reason that everyone was just watching the dead body rolling around in the middle of the outpost yard. Then, it means this guy crawled out of nowhere and died right here, after everyone left. Was napalm the cause, or will be there another reason? Kim thinks about that for a second.

The platoon continued walking, leaving the burned skeleton behind. Although the shape of the dead body was not good enough to just let it go, but there are more things to them to pay attention now.

Half-broken Jeeps and trucks are still parked in their places, among the bushes. Kim can see a familiar view after a long time. It's the parking lot of the Combat Support Battalion's vehicle transport company. He looked into the fuel tanks of one of the trucks and radiators over the grill. With just a little hand, it could be start, but judging by the current situation, it will surely nothing but delays the whole schedule. Double-Surely the lives of these fellas, as a Vehicle, are over. Perhaps they can't run out on the road loudly anymore. Jordan smells the fuel tank, too.

"I think this thing still have some gasoline in it, Sarge."

"So?"

"Wasn't your specialty is a Vehicle perform and maintenance, sarge? If we managed to start her up, couldn't our mission be easier?"

Kim patted Jordan on the shoulder and said.

"The idea is ingenious, Jordan, but it's impossible. Maybe the inside of the engine could be still fine, but the fuel line and cooling systems must be in a seriously bad shape that cannot be fixed in field. Especially spending more than 4 years in jungle, without any single maintenance. Plus, you can't use gasoline as a vehicle fuel anymore if that things are abandoned outside the storage tank more than 6 months without any stabilizer fluids added."

Jordan looked at the truck with a sad face. Kim takes a look at the watch. Then he picked up a tin basin that abandoned in the ground, and opens the drain cap of the truck's fuel tank.

"But we can use this as camping fuel, at least."

"A camp, Sarge?"

"Let's stop our journey here today. It hasn't been that long since we get off from Huey, but soon it will be sunset. Everyone, be ready to camp. Berk, please arrange the numbering of night watch while I drain some gas here."

"Yes, Sarge."

The sunlight faded away from the sky. Platoons gathered and sat in the corner of the maintenance garage, where the roof and walls still remain a little. It is possible to avoid the rain, but the fact that there is no other available direction for an ambushed attack other than the front also contributed to the location selection. Kim picked up an abandoned wheel of a truck and lit it with a mixture of oil and dry grass inside.

Everyone chewed on dry combat food without saying anything. Kim was eating canned C-ration. A new type of combat food in a plastic pack called MRE was started to supplied from these days, so he could eat that. However, since he thought it would be unfair to only eat new food while giving old food to the below soldiers in a situation where they were all struggling together, Kim used his rank power to replace all the remaining combat food for the platoon members are brought to this operation, with MRE. It was also possible because he was the only one in the platoon who did not complain about food rather than the rank height.

Kim looked at Paul. He looked blank, as if he was still half out of his mind.

"Paul, man, are you all right?"

"Huh? No, sorry, Sarge?"

"Dear god, You're still half out of your mind. How long have you been in Vietnam and you're still afraid of dead bodies? Besides, if you scream like that there, wouldn't you be telling to the Charlies who might be there in somewhere?"

"I'm sorry, Sarge."

"If you're really sorry, just follow me well from now on. I believe in your ability, so I brought you here."

Paul's shoulders drooped as if he was depressed. Berk smirked and rubbed Paul's shoulder. Kim then looked at the bathtub that Turner dragged from somewhere.

"Where even did you find out a bathtub in here, Turner? No, more than that, how the hell did you drag that sucker all the way here? And please, don't tell me you're going to take a bath here."

"I was just thinking about using it as a fireplace. But since you Sarge made the fireplace faster than me, and I cannot find a usage of that thing, so I just left it there."

"I think you were planned to do something more than that, not just taking a bath in here, are you?"

Kim and Turner giggled for a while. Then, Kim looked at the bathtub for a moment, and starts to laugh more.

"Do you all remember the times when we dropped a bathtub with a bomb in it?"

All members of the platoon burst into laughter, except for Paul.

"How can we forget that. Ha-ha. I still burst my laughs just remembering it, Sarge."

Vincent giggled.

"What do you mean, a bath bomb, Sarge?"

Paul asked.

"Oh, right. Yeah. It was before you positioned in here, Paul. The whole story, man, it was, huh, what a drama it is."

Back in 1965, the story of Navy's 25th Flight Attack Squadron drops a toilet with a bomb detonator and wings, by a A-1 Sky Raider attacker to unofficially commemorate the achievement of a total bombing of 6 million pounds, which is now a popular history of the whole military in 1986's Vietnam.

In early 1986, 'commemorating the 12th anniversary of the 17th Fighter Battalion and the British Federal Army's dispatch' was unofficially suggested by all troops in the Camp Geronimo. Of course, the eccentricity of 25th Attack Squadron's mentioned, and everyone came to an implicit agreement to get on the work secretly. Double-of course, the wills of the British RAF 83rd Expeditionary Air Group's Pilots, were strongly reflected, too.

At the history of bizarre bombs, they finally concluded that now the only bathtub left because the senior veterans already dropped the kitchen sink during the Korean War, and the toilet in 1965. The military welfare company, who managing the BOQ, 'donated' a broken bathtub from the officer's quarters. While everyone in battalion was scribbling and marking various things on the bathtub, Commander Morrison eventually found out all that shits. But instead of furious order to restore everything back, Lieutenant Colonel Morrison chuckled and engraved graffiti on himself, too. But of course, he added an order not to attach that thing in a fighter jet or bomber plane because of its own danger.

To respect and follow the orders of Col. Morrison, battalion troops and pilots convened, and reached a smooth agreement that attach that tub into helicopter that got tasked for aerial reconnaissance and drop it on the mission site. The Sparrow 2 and the same-coded helicopter, was finally got chosen as a scouting party that will take that glorious task. A box of dynamite and mortar shells, that "donated" by engineering and artillery companies, were tied up in a bathtub with a cargo belt and loaded into a helicopter controlled by Major Dylan and Captain Oxton. It was a bonus to receive a hot send-off from all battalion soldiers, while take off.

After flying into the middle of the jungle, just before returning from their mission, they lit a detonator and dropped the entire bathtub on what appeared to be as an enemy's air raid shelter. The bathtub fell to the ground and exploded with a great Bang, and the recording film taken by Ti&e cameraman, hanging in outside the helicopter, was still shown in the Camp without even get bored, also purpose of encouraging the soldiers up.

The most memorable thing was the phrase that Kim wrote on the head of the bathtub. The simple phrase "Take a Bath, Charlie!" was understood as a simple but heavy humor and served a small laugh to anyone who reads it, and finally, the idiom "Bath the Charlie" created, and it was go downed to the Camp Geronimo's peoples as the meaning of "planning some ridiculous prank".

Jordan fiddled with the PRC-77 after the dinner.

"Sarge Kim!"

"We got connected?"

It's time to make a regular radio call to the base's headquarters, as he promised with Carlson.

[Kilo Golf, Kilo Golf, come in. This is Sparrow 2. do you copy, over?]

[Sparrow 2, this is Kilo Golf. Read you loud and clear. Go ahead.]

[Kilo Golf, Sparrow 2. Arrived safely at New Mexico Plateau. Nothing special about personnel and equipment for now. Will continue to our operation after 0630 tomorrow, over.]

[Roger that, Sparrow 2. Be safe out there, Good luck.]

[Thank you, Kilo Golf. Sparrow 2, out.]

Kim, the first turn of night watch, looked the platoon member's faces that all falls into sleep. No matter how much he thought about it, everyone seemed to be struggling on their own here just because they met the bad platoon leader. Kim resents about himself. No, rather than that, he gets angry about the fuckers in the Command Room who tried to achieve anything by sacrificing the troops.

He opened the Documents Bag that Carlson handed over in the morning. The documents file, that was in the bag, is almost magazine-thick size. When he sees the red painted marks, to cover up the Top-Secret security notices, he could see that it was treated as the highest confidentiality until recently. The title of the first page catches the Kim's attention.

[U.S. Military Assistance Command, Vietnam. Code-name: Omnic Project]

Kim thought the guy who named like this must have serious problem or suck-est sense of naming than anyone else. Is this could be the reason why this thing failed? Anyway, he keeps on reading the page.

The Omnic project was a top-secret project planned in the end of 1981 under the direction orders from the highest command of U.S. minister of defense.

Former President J. Carter, who really wants and solve up the Vietnam's troublesome situation that had been deadlocked since the 1970s, but he was also too busy in many ways, and cannot only focus on the Vietnam. The détente with the Soviet Union, which seemed to be going well, was shattered by some reason, and the conflict between Vietnam and China intertwined several countries, making the situation more complicated. Furthermore, the Middle Easts are getting noisy too, and Cuba could explode again at any time, and Grenada's situation is under control, but it's not completely over yet. More than that, the Ex-President Ford only presented some shitty solutions to Vietnam when he was on command, and the reason for the word 'shitty', because, even for the NCO's view in the Vietnam's front line, the whole thing was 'shitty' enough. Anyway, based on this documents, it seemed that something had begun to progress when President Reagan came to next power of the USA. As everyone knows, his personality was impatient enough as hell, but more than, it was also because of US society's clamoring for no longer wants to see the shit fight that everyone tries to end in the 1970, but still continued until the 1980s.

It seems like Reagan scolded the superior commands to find a way to stabilize the situation in Vietnam immediately after his administration was established. Win the war or piss off. For the sake of the American military's reputation, a command must have no doubt about do every possible things, even die, for the victory. And of course, the development of new weapons was the easiest way to proceed, more than a peace treaty. Well, honestly, and obviously it's not the commanders at all who are worrying about the solutions by themselves. All they need to do was scold the below men just like their president did, and they will make out something, no, anything else no matter it will be good or bad.

Kim speculated that the creation of Agent Orange 2 was probably part of this. That cursed defoliants were changed to chemically destroy trees as soon as they touched them because the previous defoliants took too long to see the effect. Of course, they were even more deadly to humans. If even a tiny drop of it was accidentally touched in skin, it gives the chemical burns with terrible pain. The scar did not fade away no matter how long time has been passed.

Anyway, the commands were not satisfied with the creation of another defoliant, and demanded to the National Biochemical Research Institute under South Vietnam in Hội An City, "make something stronger and usable as a weapon".

Maybe that's why they continued their research, could be. And in early 1982, they created something called as 'Omnic'.

However, the researchers, who wanted to conduct more detailed research, tried to measure the true power of it by through actual tests, and as a result, only a few of Omnic's samples were sent to the battlefield, with only a few reports briefly raised. Kim thought that samples must have been transferred through with loaded in that unidentified white container.

And it was the New Mexico Plateau of April 1982, where that samples firstly tested, and also, the 3rd Airborne was in charge. Nobody knows it was coincident or intentional, the day of the disaster happen, the Hội An National Laboratory was destroyed into ashes by a terror attack by Viet cong. All the official research members were gathered that day, and got swept away at once. The information on what they had been studying disappeared into the fire without being back-up in anywhere. No one knows the details. One thing that Kim found out from his own experience was that they had created something that should not exist in the world.

The U.S. was ready to withdraw from Vietnam at any time. Right now, even in 1986, the White House was not adding more U.S. troops in the Vietnam, except for the 3rd Infantry Brigade and some Commonwealth/Other Allied forces, including 17th combat battalion. They finally realized that the winning in this war is beyond hope. However, they seemed to know that if they left without clean up the debris of 1982, it will be a worldwide catastrophe.

As a result, they seemed to be trying to settle the situation here by putting troops for reconnaissance purpose. Based on the recent tragedy that had occurred to the former groups, it seems that they have decided that sending someone who has been there once more would have a more good chance than any other peoples.

Kim examined the list of people attached to the last page of the document. Some were familiar. They were the allies who did manage to escape from there in 1982. Most of them were not in this world anymore. Killed in action, or a missing in action, or commit suicide. He thought that they were had enough as much as they could. And he found only one person who was not marked as dead yet. Jinho Kim, a staff sergeant in the U.S. Army and the Republic of Korea Air Force. Well, shit. All the experienced veterans are gone and he is only one left.

Kim closed the file with a snap. He just became depressed more and more by keep looking at it, without any clear solution. It was not a simple matter of waking up tomorrow, about wondering how to solve it even if they arrived at the scene. Everyone felt already at the beginning of the mission, but even at night, the jungle was strangely silent. It seemed that there was no need to put dry grass into a fire to ward off mosquitoes. There was no even the sound of insects flying in the middle of the jungle.

Somehow, the night passed. Countless stars that decorated the night sky made way for the dim dawn, and the dawn also made way for the distant sunshine.

"Sarge."

Jordan woke up Kim by hitting his shoulder. Kim looked at Jordan with disheveled appearance.

"What is it?"

"It's time to wake up."

Kim looked into his watch. It was time to start the second day.

"Turner, nice job you did last night, brought a tub. Fortunately, we don't need to put this in our canteen one by one."

Kim dropped a pill into a bathtub full of water, that the platoon members fill it from a nearby pond. This water purifying pill was developed and distributed in the late 1970s, but everyone really hated this with the fact that the water always smelled like hair dye ink, despite its obvious effectiveness. Of course, the platoon members, who were all well aware of the fact, lamented.

"Don't even start it. It's a hundred times better than getting diarrhea during an operation and dying of dehydration."

Even though he did, Kim himself really hated this smell. It was because drinking it wouldn't cause any troubles, but it would disgust enough. Everyone succeeded in overcoming the painful smell anyway, and was able to wash up their selves and quenching their thirst.

After Kim finished the morning radio report to the Base, he gathered the platoon members and opened the map.

"We are here right now. We need to keep going north, to the former front line, which was once held by the 3rd airborne brigade, and fortunately, if that grassy road behind us did not block in the middle, we might have a freeway to way point. If there is no any kinda problem, then we can probably get there within today."

Another march through the jungle, started again. The only difference from yesterday was that they were started walking at 1400, noon. But now, 0700 morning today. Except for that, just like yesterday, the jungle was still remain silent, but the heavy tension between the platoons seemed to have eased a little, perhaps everyone got used to it in a day.

"B, do you remember we had to learn Vietnamese to communicate with the locals as soon as we got here?"

"For sure. But why all of a sudden?"

"I ran into 'White Hand' Jones a few days ago. But that nigga said the only Vietnamese he knew and speak is how to count one to four."

"That fool junky. But why the hell is only 1 to 4?"

"He said that if the Charlies don't surrender and came out until counting 4 in front of their tunnel or bunker, they just put a grenade or do some shit."

"Well, at least they have some spare times, not like us."

Turner and Burke talked. Vincent and Albert were talking about bets against prostitutes in a prostitution shop in front of the Camp Geronimo. Chatting is absolutely prohibited during the operation, but Kim tolerated it to some extent as long as it was not too loud. It was necessary to be careful when they have to be wary of the place where they first arrived, just like yesterday, but when they have to travel long distances like now, giving a little leeway could make the platoon member's stress relieved. Kim knows orders do not always work.

And he chose Paul as his interlocutor, who was just walk right next to him.

"So, Paul, what are you going to do first when you go furlough?"

"I'll probably go back to the school band without changing my uniform and sing a song with my friends until my voice bursts, sarge."

"Oh, that will get a lot of crowds. The star comes back home. What song going to be, anyway?"

"Of course, it will be the Fortunate Son, sarge. Don't you think it's the best fit for this situation, where the rich masters just get out of the way and only ordinary people like us are being dragged to death?"

"Huh, that's true for sure now."

"By the way, what are you going to do? Any plans to discharge or something, sarge?"

"Nonsense. I'll try to stay here, in the army."

"You really are something, sarge. I wonder where you do feel the military is so good while others hate it so much. If I were in your position, I would quit right away and go home."

"There are good things for me, though, but also, there is nowhere to go back for me, at the same time."

"What do you mean? Isn't there a house you can go back to unless you're repudiated with your parents?"

"They are all passed away, in 1980."

A smile on Paul's face went away in an instant.

"Yeah, it was a rough time. Actually, I still have an older sister, but I haven't been able to reach her for seven years. My relatives are also busy for living on their own, so there is no one I can rely on. My friends are gone somewhere else that I can't find where, too. Come to think of it, I haven't been going back to Korea since I briefly visited in 1984. And of course, there will be no one who can welcome me if I go back, though. I'm not gonna be useless personnel who had no job and living on someone's pension, based on my personality. Perhaps, this rank and uniform are my last hold."

"I, uh... sorry, sarge. I think I brought up a bad subject careless."

"No, Paul. Don't mention it. Sometimes it's better to tell the truth than to interpret or decorate about it what's already happened. It's more helpful in life to anticipate the obstacles to overcame and move forward than to hold vain hopes for what's not possible. That's my motto of life. I hope that day comes as late as possible, but one day you'll have to understand the word 'Stand Alone'."

Kim just looked ahead. Paul walked quietly next to him. The sound of other platoon member's conversations from behind was heard quietly.

Kim signaled to stop. The platoon members stopped immediately. A suspicious landscape unfolded in the direction of the way to go. Instead of lush bushes, all they could see is the bare ground of brown spots covered with moss and mud.

"Something doesn't feel right. Paul, grab my back."

Paul, who is only 5'9 man, managed to grab Kim's collar, which is 6'1.

"Slowly forward. Watch every step where you do."

There was even no need for that. As soon as Kim took a step, he instantly began to fall deep into the mud.

"Pull me out, pull me out!"

Turner and Albert, as well as Paul, stuck together and pulled Kim out of the mud. Kim shook off the mud from his pants and boots and uttered a few swear words.

"For Christ of the Fuck, it's a goddamn quicksand."

A quicksand area that seemed to be bare ground if not look closely enough, was spread out long under a jungle forest.

"Why a quicksand all of a sudden? It's not even on the map."

"Uh, Sarge?"

Joseph called Kim. Looking back, there was a white stone grabbed in Joseph's hand.

"Whoa. What a surprise. A limestone, it is."

"It is, Sarge. And add one more thing, it's the bedrock of this area."

"Well, if you say you found out a piece of bedrock on the bare ground."

"If bedrock is on the bare ground, it probably means that something in the past has knocked the ground up to the bedrock area. I think it's probably bombing. That's the only way that's possible in here."

Kim took the bedrock from Joseph's hand and threw it into the middle of the swamp. With a thud, a piece of stone disappeared into the mud.

"Then that might have touched the water veins at the same time. From the fact that these huge swamps have been created that are not even marked on the map."

Kim examined the year of measurement of the map. November 1981. Goddammit, Carlson. Give a map made even before the withdrawal.

"Ah, this gonna give me a headache."

"So... sarge. What should we do now?"

Kim breaks a long branch and put it into a swamp. The branch did not stop and even stuck until Kim's elbow, even though its length was almost about 7 feet, even far above Turner's height, the tallest in the platoon.

"It would be bullshit to walk across this. Well, we have no choice."

Kim said, breaking another thinner and shorter branch than before.

"A little further west from here, there is Vietnam Route 14 highway, which is now closed. We have no choice but to follow that path to the front line."

"Should we have to go all the way until we meet the road, sarge? The swamp won't spread to Route 14, and there may be a part where the ground becomes hard in the middle. We could try that, sarge."

"Good point, Berk. But the east side from here on out is the mountain range of the New Mexico highlands. If we go into the middle, maybe we'll have to go up a rough mountain path, hit the top, and go down. That won't be good both the speed and efficiency of our progress, and nobody knows what else could happen. It would be safer to follow Route 14, even if it takes longer."

"Yes, sarge."

Although the platoon was unhappy with the sudden change of direction, but they continued to move forward anyway. Kim kept stabbing the ground with branches whenever he stepped out in case of a possible quicksand. The slope wasn't urgent because they were not walking toward the top, but the constant uphill caused everyone to hard breathe out of their mouths. Kim took out the compass. Somehow, the needle was pointing northwest. He turned and walked in the direction of the needle's west again. The platoon members followed Kim without saying any word.

Thanks to the leaves of the tree, the sun was not directly shining in the calm jungle, but the hot heat made the rainforest get heated. Everyone drank half of the water from their canteen, even though everyone saved it as much as possible. Sweat poured out like rain.

All of a sudden, a small open place without trees and grass, came out.

"Everyone, stop. Will continue moving after taking a short break in here."

Without anyone have to say anything, the platoon members fell to the ground with a groan. Paul, in particular, seemed more tired than anyone else. Kim took a small box out from his luggage, while taking the map out of the bag.

"Everyone. Check this out. Have some taste, how about it."

It was a box of Hershey's tropical bars. Everyone gathered in front of Kim with exclamations.

"Hell yeah, you're the true platoon leader, Sarge! Sarge Kim, you are the only one who really think and taking care of soldiers like this!"

"Save at least the energy of moving your mouth, Vincent. I don't know either how long we have to go from now on."

Everyone enjoyed a brief break while slowly melting the chocolate in their mouth. Kim looked into the map hard even while the platoon members are take a break. According to his prediction, now they made it to two-thirds way to go, so they will be able to reach Route 14 if all of them walk for about an hour more. Looks like everything is going well, until Kim's eyes were on the compass.

"What the Fuck?"

The compass needle turned northwest again. And then, it slowly moved again and now pointed to the east, as Kim thinks did he had trouble that tilted his sense of direction to the right without realizing it.

"What's wrong, sarge?"

"Wait. This can't be."

Everyone gathered around the compass. Again, the needle seemed to move slowly, but now it pointed to the southeast.

"The hell is this bullshit? Please don't tell me it's broken, Sarge."

"Berk! Your compass. Quick!"

Berk took out the compass that hung from his shoulder strap. Berk's compass was rather pointing northeast. But for a moment, his compass also slowly moved and now pointed south.

"What the Hell? The Fuck is going on with this shit?"

"Fuck me. It's a magnetic field mess."

"What does that even mean, sarge?"

Berk said with a look of bewilderment.

"Geographic terms, Berk. Sometimes there is a zone on the ground mixed with elements that interfere with the Earth's magnetic field. Not only just seeing the two compasses do this at the same time, but also seeing the way they are moving, I suspect they are not broken, but we may have come into a place where the magnetic field is confused."

Joseph, at least the most brilliant man now, explained to Berk. But Berk was still perplexed.

"Is that even possible?"

"Sometimes there is a place that similar happens like here. But normally, just 10 feet out of the place, usually returns to normal, but I've never seen such a widespread confusion of magnetic fields just like here."

Brian, a former hunter, added an explanation. Kim stood up with a compass.

"Then, this means there is only one way."

Then he immediately began to climb the tree that was right next to him.

"Sarge! Where are you going now?"

Berk cried plaintively.

"Stay still! This is most certainly right now."

Kim climbed to the top of the tree. The shape of the terrain gradually caught in his eye in the ever-expanding jungle forest. The highest peak seemed to be the summit of the New Mexico Plateau. Looking back, he could barely see a stream of shining water through the jungle. The Kon Tum River beyond the plateau cannot be able to see already, so it must be a Song Tak-Ro Creek right next to the Kon Tum River. On the map, the top of the plateau was north, so if they go straight toward the creek, the Vietnam Route 14 would be there in the middle. The direction where they have to go was clear. However, that would have been very inconvenient. It means that he must climb the tree in the middle and keep checking the direction, until the compass come back to normal.

"For Christ, the road ahead must be very shitty."

"Is there any other way, sarge?"

Jordan asked.

"There is a way to set directions while looking at the sun, but we can't use it in here jungle, where anybody can't see the sky as well as now. And nobody knows that how much more areas there will be where compasses going nuts."

After some struggles, the platoon can walk again, but this time, an object that was alone in the bushes stopped Kim's step.

"This one looks like a Friendly force's belonging."

There was a rusty M16A1 rifles on the ground. Right next to it, there was a pack of faded Lucky Strike cigarette box. Kim looked around carefully and looked into the object.

"The owner didn't even smoke more than a few cigarettes. The contents are still pretty much full."

Then he looked at the name tag on the rifle's suspenders. A photo that the corner starts to crumble was hanging together.

"Who was this could be?"

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God. That's '50 cents' Terly's Rifle!"

"50 cents Terly?"

Burke and Turner picked up the rifle. In the picture, a neatly dressed black girl was smiling.

"Do you guys know him?"

"Yes, of course, sarge. In this photo, she is his younger sister, as far I know. He was a friend of ours that serving at the 22nd Special Task Force, and also, our battle buddy at the boot camp. We heard that he got missing in action in '84, but I can't believe he was here."

Kim recalled the story of missing reconnaissance members mentioned by Colonel Carlson. The reconnaissance team was dispatched twice in '84 years and once in '85. All the 84's team went missing, and only one man returned alive in '85.

This poor friend, '50 Cent' Terly, probably one of the '84's reconnaissance team. Berk and Turner were staring at the gun with complicated expressions. It would have been better to give them a moment. No one would have expected to find the last trace of a close friend in a place like here.

Kim pull out the magazine out of the Terly's rifle. The brass bullets loaded in 30 round magazine, was still looks good.

"Twenty-three left. Can't even say it's almost empty. What the hell was happened, cannot even empty a single mag?"

"What should we have to do from now, sarge?"

Kim took off the name tag from the belt of the gun.

"Other than this, just leave it. Holding two rifles, well, the firepower will get better, but it will be very heavy. I think we have no choice but to pray for this man's eternal reward."

Kim put the magazine back and put the gun back in place. It was because he thought for some reason that it would be better to put back what they found in here. At least a few things were certain. They were heading in the right direction, and that the reconnaissance team that came first had some hard time walking up here. At least one person could rest peacefully forever in Arlington if he brought this name tag to the Base. Kim moved on, hoping that these men's miserable fate would not be repeated to the Sparrow 2.