Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: Military Reform (5)
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Even in Korea, scams like this used to be relatively common back in the day.
Bad acquaintances would approach folks who spent their childhood during the Korean War, couldn't finish elementary school, and thus couldn't read Hangul.
They'd say they wanted to draw up a contract to buy the land the victims owned at a good price...
But what was actually written was a land transfer deed, duping them right under their noses.
In Korea, you could sue and usually get the land back somehow...
But in the Empire, there's no relief for victims of fraudulent contracts.
It's not like you were threatened with a sword; if you got scammed because you couldn't read, that's on you.
"Now you want to learn to read and write?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. From now on, officers will personally teach you, so study hard."
Just telling them the motivation to learn read and write isn't enough to keep it going.
If you've explained why they have to do it, you also need to explain why they should put in the effort.
"And in two months, you'll take a test on reading, writing, and basic arithmetic."
"A test, sir?"
"That's right. A test."
No one in this world likes tests.
Even if I'm perfectly prepared, just hearing the 's' word makes my stomach churn—it's human instinct.
However, short of corruption or cheating...
...there's no fairer system than an exam.
In the end, it all comes down to tests.
"The test will be scored out of 100 points. Below 50 is a fail, 90 or above is a high score. I'm not sure if anyone can hit 100, but if you do, you'll get a week off and a 300,000-mark bonus."
"......300,000 marks, sir?"
"Yes."
300,000 marks is no small sum.
Most soldiers' families, all pitching in together, might earn around 400,000 marks a month...
Seventy-five percent of that dropping into your lap at once?
It'd feel like scoring a 1.5 million won bonus.
"For 90 or above, a 30,000-mark bonus and three days off. Plus, eligibility to apply for the NCO commissioning exam."
The soldiers' eyes ignited.
Academic elitism and grade worship aren't ideals to live by.
But when it comes to drilling in essentials like arithmetic and literacy for survival, a little bait like this is fair game.
Mastering reading and writing through sheer grind alone would transform their lives.
As everyone burned with study fever...
...one soldier piped up cautiously.
"But what happens if we fail?"
"You'll pay the price for disappointing your battalion commander."
"What price...?"
"After the test, for a full month—Saturdays and Sundays—you'll join me for intense PT and study sessions."
The soldiers' faces drained white.
"Full combat gear for dozens of laps around the parade ground, guerrilla exercises or drill under other officer instructors. And studying together till sunset."
"......"
"Any complaints?"
"None, sir!"
Imperial soldiers are human, too.
Weekends mean kicking back in barracks with games among themselves or heading out with officers' okay.
That's their one stress valve—and now they'd trade it for PT and study tougher than weekdays?
I'd rather die.
"So give it your all."
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Fall out to barracks now. Platoon leaders will personally teach writing there. Dismissed."
In the Imperial Army, battalion commanders rarely pull duty shifts.
Unless they're shunted to brigade or division staff, that is.
Duty's necessary, but pulling all-nighters isn't a walk in the park.
To earn respect from soldiers and officers, though, you lead from the front—even on the crap jobs.
That's why I stand duty right alongside the others.
"Lieutenant Monica, aren't you sitting a bit too close?"
"Battalion HQ's just you and me right now anyway."
The other officers are all home, snoring away.
Or enjoying quality time with their wives.
So yeah, casual's fine.
Except when guard relief comes reporting in.
"And this manual says supply's crucial on page 5, but page 6 claims local procurement's best... I don't get it."
"Say you procure three days' rations on-site."
"Yes, sir."
"Then HQ sends that much less. Transporting food's no joke. Even on secured supply lines, wagons have to haul it.
In a modern army, slap it on trucks—done. Battalion's worth in one go.
But with all-wagon logistics... just battalion rations take at least five to seven soldiers and three horses."
"Transport time, plus the hay and food they burn en route—it's hefty. Staff analysis says: to deliver three days' rations to a deployed battalion, you need four days' worth upfront."
"The transport unit eats into it midway."
"Exactly."
Case by case, of course.
War inside Empire borders? Consumption's manageable.
Battlefield too far out? It explodes.
"Alright, patrol time?"
"Yes, sir."
Skip surprise rounds, and guards slack off.
Not from experience, but word is—no patrols at all, and you'll catch principal and backup snoozing in plain sight.
One random patrol a shift keeps it honest.
"Halt! Halt! Octopus!"
Even with me as duty commander, password challenge on approach.
Mess it up, and it's rifles up, tied down.
Textbook vigilance.
Screw up guard duty, you die.
"Pizza."
"Loyalty! Battalion commander, sir?"
"At ease. All quiet on guard?"
"Yes, sir!"
I eyed his rank slip.
Private.
"Where's your principal?"
"Guarding that way, sir!"
"Lead on."
The direction he pointed: a corporal with a torch.
Spotted me, bellowed the challenge.
"Octopus!"
"Pizza. Keep it up."
"Thank you, sir!"
But his uniform looked off.
Didn't notice on relief change...
Left chest puffed. Something stuffed in?
"Corporal, what's jammed in your tunic?"
"Well, sir..."
"Out with it. You weren't snacking on duty, were you?"
Sometimes they wheedle cooks for hardtack.
On guard duty.
Since I took command, harsh punishment nixed it...
Old habits die hard.
But what tumbled out? Nothing like expected.
A paper scribbled with writing.
"......Isn't this a paper with writing on it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why the hell did you bring this?"
"Reviewing today's lesson on guard duty—so I don't forget. Sorry, sir!"
We're near the capital.
Like Goyang or Seongnam—practically suburbs.
No border threats.
Whip a guy for studying? Overkill.
Can't fully slide on discipline, though.
"......Studying hard's a fine sight."
"Thank you, sir!"
"What's driving you?"
"Wanna make NCO, repay my mom—she raised me solo. Squeeze study time into personal maintenance every day."
"I see."
Damn fine attitude.
This corporal's rep in his platoon was solid, as I recall...
No official reprimand to nix his commissioning shot.
"Studying on guard duty's still dereliction. Normally, 30 lashes or three days brig. But factoring your effort on my study order—no formal punishment."
"Thank you, sir!"
"Instead: no weekend personal time till the exam in three weeks. Full gear, 50 parade ground laps. Afternoons for study. Duty officers get orders to babysit your sessions."
The corporal's face fell like the apocalypse hit.
I went easy, though.
Guard slacking starts at 30 lashes—blood, torn flesh minimum.
"Dismissed."
"Loyalty, roger."
"Carry on."
Soon enough, the soldiers sat the exam.
Solid results. All in all, satisfactory.