Operation 18

Static crackled in my ear as a voice came through the radio.

Keeping our heads low, we slowly began to sweep through the thick brush.

"Don't make any reckless moves. If anything looks even slightly suspicious, put a bullet in it first."

"Roger."

We fanned out into a search formation, slowly driving them toward the riverbank. We fired warning shots at anything that looked remotely out of place.

The enemy had fired first. And now, even though we had initiated a sweep, they were staying completely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hidden? There was no way they were innocent Congolese civilians.

If it had been an accident—if they had fired by mistake—they would have surrendered, claimed it was an accident, and let themselves be investigated and released. But this shooter hadn't done that. Firing first meant there was an extremely high probability they were rebels.

Yet, after that single gunshot, they had vanished into dead silence. It was bizarre. There was no follow-up action. No return fire.

We pushed forward, parting the tall grass step by step. *Bang! Bang!* Whenever anxiety flared, we fired first. I had gone through this training dozens of times, but my nerves were still shot. Real combat was entirely different. The suffocating dread of not knowing where a bullet might fly from made my body stiffen. Still, we executed the operation, moving forward with agonizing slowness.

Advancing step by step, we eventually reached the shores of Lake Tanganyika.

But there was nothing. Absolutely no one.

They had definitely shot at us. We had all heard the gunshot, yet there was no trace of them.

I wasn't the only one bewildered. The faces of my teammates searching nearby were also filled with utter confusion.

"End the sweep. Let's regroup for a second."

After securing the immediate perimeter, we gathered around the team leader. The moment we did, the medical NCO looked at me and gasped.

"Hey!!! You're bleeding!!!"

"Sir? What blood?"

"You're bleeding, man!"

"Me?"

Instantly, every eye in the team locked onto me. Blood was dripping from my left ear, splattering onto the ground. The medic hurriedly pulled out a hemostatic agent.

"Sit down. Sit. Get comfortable."

As soon as I sat, he pressed the hemostatic gauze firmly against my ear to stop the bleeding.

"You didn't feel the blood?"

"No, sir. I didn't. I heard the crack of a bullet right by my ear, but I had no idea I was bleeding."

"It's a Ghost Hit," the company commander said.

"A Ghost Hit, sir?"

"Even if a bullet doesn't make direct contact, the sheer air pressure and shockwave of it passing right next to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you can cause lacerations. Especially the ears—they're delicate, so they tear easily."

"So you're saying the bullet passed right next to In-bae's head?"

"That's the only explanation."

What? A bullet passed right next to my ear? That was when I was about to send a radio transmission. If I hadn't turned my head at that exact moment, I would have been dead.

A sudden chill ran down my spine. I had lived my life thinking it wouldn't matter much when I died, but dying like this was definitely not in the plans. *Fuck, I almost became an honored casualty on my very first day of the operation.*

The company commander spoke, his voice trembling with rage.

"Fuck. That bastard aimed for him. He wanted to buy time to escape. If In-bae had gone down, we would have abandoned the sweep to focus on saving him."

"Exactly. Trying to kill someone just to save their own skin?"

"Let's find these bastards and tear them apart."

"Damn right. Messing with our team? We'll hunt them to the ends of the earth."

"Calm down. Wait. When is the backup arriving?"

"They said it would take about twenty minutes, so they should be here any moment."

The medic, who was still tending to my ear, dabbed at it a few more times.

"Bleeding's stopped."

"It definitely looks like a Ghost Hit. But it's strange... the laceration is a bit deep for a typical Ghost Hit."

"Deep?"

"Yes, sir."

The company commander's face flushed red with anger.

"What the fuck kind of gun did those bastards fire? For a shockwave to do that, was it an anti-materiel sniper rifle?"

"It seems highly likely, sir."

"We are absolutely finding that bastard today. Maknae."

"Sergeant Gong In-bae, sir."

"Go back to the vehicle and rest."

"No, sir. It's nothing. The bleeding has stopped, and I can still fight."

"No. Go rest. That's an order."

Just then, Team 2, who had been operating in another sector, arrived after receiving our call. They had come expecting to assist with a standard sweep, but upon hearing that the youngest member of the unit had been shot, they flew into a rage that eclipsed my own.

"I'm going to catch these bastards and chew them alive."

"I'll rip their guts out."

"They're dead meat."

Obviously, they weren't literally going to eat them alive, but hearing it warmed my chest. Was this what it felt like to have reliable older brothers? Was this what it felt like to be protected? To have someone get angry on my behalf?

All my life, I had been pushed to the edge of cliffs. Even if I fell, there had never been a single soul who cared. Hearing them say those words—even if it was just tough talk—felt incredibly reassuring.

"Jong-o."

"Yes, Team Leader."

"Take In-bae back to the armored vehicle. Knowing him, he won't go back alone."

"Understood."

"The rest of us will take a short break. Once the support team arrives, we resume the sweep."

"Yes, sir."

Sergeant First Class Kwon Jong-o, our primary medic, escorted me back to the armored personnel carrier. In the meantime, the support team from headquarters arrived. After briefing them on the situation, we climbed inside the vehicle. Looking out, I could see them reorganizing the teams to restart the sweep.

"Scared you, didn't it?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Incredible. Getting shot on your very first day of deployment. Even I haven't been shot yet," Sergeant First Class Kwon Jong-o teased.

"I didn't actually get shot, sir. It didn't even graze me."

"That's why guns are terrifying. It didn't even touch you, yet it left a wound. You must be tense, so get some rest. Leave the sweep to the guys outside."

"Understood, sir."

But I couldn't just rest. Like I've said before, in the military, you have to do the exact opposite of what you're told. If you actually rest when they tell you to, you might end up resting in peace forever. I peered out of the armored vehicle's viewport, looking around. I couldn't physically join the sweep, but my mind was out there with them. So, I participated the only way I could—by scanning the area with my eyes.

I stared intently at the thick brush until my eyes grew strained, so I turned my gaze toward the nearby village.

That was when I spotted someone walking with a rifle.

Wait... *Is that... an anti-materiel sniper rifle?* The team leader had suspected that the weapon used to shoot at me was an anti-materiel rifle.

But how did they get from their hiding spot to the village so quickly? The layout of the area went: Lake Tanganyika, then the thick brush, then a dilapidated house, and finally the road. We had heard the gunshot just as we transitioned from the dilapidated house into the brush. We had swept all the way from there to Lake Tanganyika and found nothing. Yet, those people had suddenly appeared near the road? Something was highly off.

Just in case, I turned to Sergeant First Class Kwon Jong-o.

"Sergeant First Class Kwon, isn't that an anti-materiel sniper rifle over there?"

I pointed out the window. He squinted, studying the figure.

"You're right. Let's report this to the team leader."

"Yes, sir."

The team members sweeping the brush began moving stealthily toward the road. I watched the entire scene unfold from inside the vehicle. After checking for any immediate threats around the brick house, the team breached the building in a flash.

Several gunshots rang out, followed by static on the radio.

The operation was over in seconds. Breaching through the front and back doors simultaneously, they caught the enemy completely off guard, neutralizing them instantly. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reason there were wounded among the enemy was because our team had no intention of letting the bastard with the anti-materiel rifle off easy.

They had aimed precisely for his knees. Both of his kneecaps were completely shattered. He would likely never walk again.

With the captives bound in zip-ties, our team members stepped outside to light up cigarettes. The support team took over guarding the prisoners.

"What a way to start our first day."

"Tell me about it."

"Maybe Congo just doesn't suit us."

"Hey, if it didn't suit us, we'd all be dead. Would we still be standing here?"

"Just think of it as getting the bad luck out of the way early. Aside from In-bae's minor scratch, no one got hurt, and we wrapped up the operation cleanly. Isn't that a win?"

I climbed out of the armored vehicle and walked over to them.

"Great work, Team Leader."

"Great work? Please. This wasn't even a warm-up. We've got the skills, after all. Haha!"

Perhaps because the operation had concluded safely, the team leader's handsome face had returned to its usual relaxed expression.

"But Team Leader... would it be alright if I took another look at the brush?"

"The brush? Why?"

"It just doesn't make sense, no matter how much I think about it."

"What doesn't make sense?"

"The shot definitely came from the brush, but they were caught over here. We were positioned right between those two points. Isn't that strange?"

"It is odd..."

"If you could give me just twenty minutes, I'd like to go check it out."

"Hmm..."

"Woo-won."

"Yes, Team Leader."

"Take Deok-su, Jae-beom, and In-bae, and go check it out quickly."

"Understood."

Under the company commander's orders, the deputy team leader took charge. The four of us—the deputy team leader, Demolition NCO 1 (Im Deok-su), Communications NCO 2 (Oh Jae-beom), and myself—headed back into the brush.

We went to the exact area where I suspected the shooters had vanished. We parted the grass with our rifles and kicked at the ground as we walked, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I began to wonder if I was just overthinking things.

"Nothing here, right? Shall we head back?"

"Let's head back, sir."

"In-bae, let's go."

"Yes, sir."

Just as we were about to turn around, a pile of trash caught my eye. Along the lake, discarded garbage often washed ashore, forming random heaps. But this particular pile looked slightly unnatural.

"Deputy Team Leader, sir. May I take a quick look at that pile of trash?"

"Well... sure, go ahead. But count me out. I'm not touching that garbage."

"It's fine, sir. I can handle it alone."

"Alright, go on. We'll keep watch from here."

I was already grateful that they had listened to my suggestion, spared the time, and accompanied me out here. Asking them to dig through trash with me would be pushing my luck. I just wanted to clear my own nagging doubts. With my teammates watching my back, I approached the heap.

Even before I reached it, a foul stench assaulted my nose. Plastic bottles, vinyl bags, snack wrappers, soda cans, glass shards—all sorts of refuse lay scattered across a wide area. I picked up a sturdy stick nearby and began poking and prodding through the debris as I walked.

Just as I was beginning to think I was wasting my time, the stick suddenly sank deep into the ground. I nearly lost my footing. Recovering my balance, I stared at the spot where the stick had plunged.

It looked like ordinary dirt. But looking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠closer, it wasn't earth at all. It was a thick piece of canvas coated in mud to mimic the surrounding ground. Following the seams, I found a handle-like protrusion and pulled it up.

*What the fuck is this?*

A curse escaped my lips the moment I saw what lay beneath. It was a tunnel.

The situation escalated rapidly. Additional support teams from our unit arrived, followed by nearby UN peacekeepers. Soon, government forces, local police, and even regional politicians made an appearance.

We swept the tunnel for booby traps, but it was completely clear. Instead, we discovered a massive cache of weapons.

It was clearly a smuggling tunnel. It seemed they had been bringing weapons in across Lake Tanganyika, moving them through the tunnel, and then distributing them elsewhere in small batches.

The tunnel was connected to the dilapidated house—or rather, the house had likely been built as a front to conceal the tunnel's entrance.

The scale of the incident had grown massive, but there was nothing more for our team to do. Securing the scene and processing the smuggled goods would be handled by those left behind. We just had to head back.

Leaving the chaotic scene behind, we returned to base. It had been a long, grueling, and eventful first day of operations in the Congo.