The Rebel Stronghold

The operations continued. We kept patrolling the high-risk areas of the Democratic Republic of the Congo and pulled security detail for mobile clinics. When a flood hit the Uvira region, we were deployed for search-and-rescue and disaster relief, distributing aid supplies like food and medicine. We also conducted several joint operations with the local police and military. They were supposed to be rebel-sweeping missions, but whether the intelligence was faulty or we were just unlucky, there were never any rebels where we went. In the midst of all this, I even received a medal.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir."

"You played a massive role. Capturing a rebel leader and locating an arms smuggler's den... Thanks to you, the prestige of our unit has soared."

"I believe it was a team effort, sir, not just my own doing."

"Modest, too. I'm glad to have you with us."

"Thank you, sir."

I was awarded the medal in front of the entire unit by the commander himself, and we even had tea together in his office afterward. A mere Sergeant having tea with the unit commander. My life had completely transformed. It was a life I could never have even dreamed of back when I was a starving beggar, stealing beef from grocery stores just to survive. No one looked at me as an orphaned street rat anymore. Now, I was simply a soldier defending his country.

"Today, we're heading out for a patrol and security operation near the eastern border," Captain Song Gyu-tae announced. "We have intelligence indicating a recent spike in arms trafficking, so move with caution and report any anomalies immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Today's mission was a security patrol in the eastern sector of Uvira. Tips about arms smuggling in the vicinity had been flooding in lately. We boarded our armored personnel carrier and set out along the route designated by the UN peacekeeping forces. The path started from our base, reached a designated turnaround point, and looped back via a different road. It was a route specifically mapped out by the UN command as the area with the highest probability of rebel activity.

"All clear here."

"Nothing on this side either."

It was supposed to be the most dangerous route, the one where rebels were most likely to operate, but we hadn't found a single thing. And honestly, it made sense. We were running the exact same route over and over again like hamsters on a wheel. If I were a rebel, I'd stay as far away from this road as possible. With UN peacekeepers patrolling it day in and day out, what kind of idiot rebel would choose to operate here? In fact, it sent a clear message: as long as they avoided this specific road, they wouldn't run into any UN forces. There was absolutely no reason for them to come here.

"Captain, sir," I spoke up, tossing out a suggestion to our team leader as we dragged ourselves through another mind-numbing patrol with zero signs of rebel activity. "Instead of sticking strictly to this road, could we venture a bit further inland?"

"I'd love to, In-bae, but the UN explicitly told us to stick to this path," Captain Song Gyu-tae replied.

"They recommended this route, sir. It's not a strict mandate, is it?"

"Well... technically, yes. But you know how the brass is. They absolutely despise anything that creates extra work or risks. If we change the route for no reason, they'll throw a massive fit."

"Understood, sir."

I understood the Captain's point perfectly. Our unit's staff officers—from the operations officers to the intelligence officers—had no burning desire to achieve legendary feats. Their sole objective was to complete this deployment without any incidents and return every single soldier safely to Korea. Sure, catching rebels during a routine patrol like last time was great, but if not, they believed simply doing what the UN ordered was more than enough. A zero-accident record was their top priority. It wasn't as if capturing a few more Congolese rebels would suddenly bring peace to this country. And if a soldier got hurt while we were running around trying to play heroes? That would be a disaster that no amount of achievements could make up for. Besides, guns were everywhere here. A stray bullet could end a life in an instant. This wasn't South Korea; it was the Congo, an active deployment zone. So, rather than risking our lives by jumping into danger, it was wiser to play it safe, do the bare minimum required, and prioritize survival. You couldn't blame them. They were people who believed that protecting the lives and safety of their men came before any military glory. To them, a safe return was the ultimate achievement. I understood that. But from the perspective of the team actually executing the patrol, the routine was so mind-numbingly predictable that we desperately wanted to shake things up.

"Look at our In-bae, speaking up like a real go-getter," Sergeant First Class Im Deok-su teased. "What, you itching to get another medal?"

"No, sir. I just thought that since we run the exact same route every day, the rebels would never dream of coming this way. My apologies."

"No need to apologize... Hey, Captain."

"What is it?"

"Doesn't that spot over there look a bit suspicious?"

"Where?" the Captain asked, scanning the surrounding area.

"Well, there's bound to be something suspicious somewhere, right? Hehehe. And if we spot something suspicious, it's our duty to investigate, isn't it?" Im Deok-su replied with a sly grin.

Only then did the Captain catch on to what Im Deok-su was getting at. Deviating from the designated route without cause was difficult, but if we claimed we had spotted an anomaly or suspicious activity and needed to investigate, that was a different story. In fact, that was the primary purpose of a security patrol. We spotted something suspicious. We are going to investigate. Then, the outcome would either be "all clear" or "successful engagement." The only hurdle was establishing a reasonable suspicion in the first place, and Im Deok-su was proposing we simply manufacture one. We could point to a tree, a thicket of bushes, or some ruins and call it suspicious. No one could argue with that.

"Alright," the Captain said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "How does ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everyone else feel about it?"

"I'm down, sir," one replied.

"I was getting bored anyway. This should be fun."

"Alright, let's do it."

The moment the Captain gave the word, Sergeant First Class Jang O-seong, our primary communications NCO, immediately got on the radio to coordinate the play.

Having cut the transmission, Sergeant First Class Jang O-seong let out a quiet chuckle, clearly amused by the situation. The lie had flowed seamlessly. The mind-numbing patrol was finally starting to get interesting.

"Alright, let's head a bit further north from the Burundi border," the Captain ordered.

"Yes, sir."

We had bitten off way more than we could chew.

At the end of the path we had stealthily navigated in our armored personnel carrier lay an actual rebel stronghold. We had veered off Route RD-4 and followed a faint dirt track marked with tire treads, only to stumble right into this. What had started as a lighthearted detour, a minor deviation from the rules, had blown up into something massive. It was like a beat cop hoping to bust a few local punks on patrol, only to accidentally walk right into a major cartel drug deal. The only reason this place had remained hidden was the Congolese climate. The hot, humid environment fostered dense, suffocating rainforests. Just a few yards off the main road, the canopy became so thick that it completely swallowed everything inside. No one had expected a rebel base to be nestled this close to our usual route.

Right then, a sharp, metallic clang echoed through the vehicle. The rebels had spotted our armored carrier and opened fire.

"We are taking fire! Engaging the enemy in accordance with standard operating procedures!"

The team members immediately ripped the sky-blue covers off their helmets. UN peacekeepers wore bright sky-blue helmets to remain highly visible from a distance. However, in an active firefight, a bright blue helmet was practically a neon sign screaming, shoot me in the head. Before dismounting, we stripped the covers off, revealing the tactical camouflage underneath. Once stripped, our team swiftly exited the vehicle, took cover, and immediately began returning fire.

I scrambled up and grabbed the heavy machine gun mounted on the roof of the armored carrier.

TRRRRRRRRRRRR!

The heavy machine gun roared to life, spitting fire. The weapon mounted on our carrier chambered massive 12.7x99mm rounds. Each cartridge was 138 millimeters long—nearly fourteen centimeters. That was the length of a modern smartphone. Bullets of that terrifying caliber rained down relentlessly on the rebel camp. Whether they wore body armor, hid behind concrete walls, or crouched behind vehicles, the 12.7x99mm rounds made everyone equal. With its devastating penetrative power, the heavy machine gun tore through every obstacle, shredding the enemy. Meanwhile, the rest of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠our team fanned out, systematically suppressing the hostiles.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The rebels collapsed like paper targets. Against our elite team, who had trained endlessly in tactical maneuvers and terrain-based combat, these rebels—who had barely been taught how to pull a trigger without any formal military education—never stood a chance.

TRRRRRRR! TRRRRRRR!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunfire erupted from all directions as flames licked the sky. The enemy was being utterly decimated.

TRRRRRRR! TRRRRRRR!

I had fired the heavy machine gun so continuously that the barrel glowed a bright, angry red. Pushing it any further would ruin the weapon; it needed time to cool down. But I couldn't just sit idly on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠top of the carrier waiting for the metal to cool. I leaped down from the vehicle and joined the rest of the team on the ground.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I took cover behind a thick tree, waited for a target to expose itself, and squeezed the trigger. Fire, relocate, fire again. Bang! Bang! Bang! It was a rhythmic, mechanical repetition. Before long, the chaotic din of gunfire began to fade, and soon, not a single rebel was left standing. The team swept the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠area for any remaining hostiles, but the camp was completely secure.

"Clear!"

The engagement had ended before our reinforcements could even arrive. Having survived a sudden, intense firefight, everyone's faces were slightly flushed, their veins still pumping with adrenaline. We began securing the surviving rebels and searching the stronghold.

"We're running low on cable ties, sir," one of the men reported.

"Use rope," Captain Song Gyu-tae ordered, keeping his eyes on the rebels who had thrown down their weapons and surrendered.

"O-seong, take In-bae and sweep the buildings. Check for any hazardous materials or traps."

"Understood, sir."

We began clearing the handful of structures. Calling them "buildings" was a massive stretch; they were mostly crude shacks thrown together with corrugated sheet metal.

"All clear. Nothing here."

"Looks like a barracks. Nothing but cots."

"This one's a mess hall."

We cleared about ten shacks in total. Since there was no electricity in this part of the Congo, we had to rely entirely on our tactical flashlights. The constant tension of not knowing if someone or something would jump out from the shadows kept our nerves stretched taut. Finally, we reached the last remaining structure—the largest one, situated right in the center of the camp. Inside, we found what appeared to be a makeshift command post. A large wooden table sat in the middle of the room with a crude map laid out across it, but that was it. There were no other suspicious items in sight. Sergeant First Class Jang O-seong turned to me.

"Looks clean, right?"

"Yes, sir. All clear."

"Let's head out then. I'm dying for a smoke."

"Understood, sir."

The two of us stepped back outside the command post. But as I looked back at the structure, something felt off. The external dimensions of the building didn't seem to match the size of the interior. Inside, there had only been a large round table and a few chairs, but looking at it from the outside, the building seemed noticeably larger. Was I just imagining things? Still, there was no harm in double-checking. I decided to take a quick, quiet look. Jang O-seong, his nerves likely frayed from the sweep, was already taking a deep drag from his cigarette, completely distracted.

"Sergeant First Class Jang, sir."

"Yeah?"

"I think I left my gloves inside, sir. I'll be right back."

"Careless bastard. Hurry up and grab 'em." Enjoying his cigarette, Jang O-seong waved his hand dismissively, giving me the green light.

I stepped back inside the command post. The scene was exactly as I had left it: the round table and a few scattered chairs. I walked over to the back wall and began tapping on the wood, like knocking on a door.

Thump, thump.

Thump, thump.

I moved to a different section and tapped again.

Thump, thump.

Thump, thump.

I shifted further down.

Thump, thump.

Thump, thump.

Just as I was beginning to think I was overthinking it—

Hollow, hollow.

A distinct, empty echo reverberated through the wood. This is it. I tapped around to trace the seams of the hidden compartment, and my fingers brushed against a tiny, concealed latch. I pushed it open, revealing a hidden room about the size of a small walk-in closet. I swept my flashlight across the dark space. In the corner, dozens of duffel bags were stacked high. If they had gone to such lengths to hide these bags in a secret compartment, whatever was inside had to be incredibly valuable and highly restricted. I crept closer and unzipped one of the bags. My breath caught in my throat. Inside, stacks of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills, rolled tightly into bundles, packed the bag to the brim. I quickly unzipped another bag. This one was filled to the top with firearms. What the hell is going on here? I checked a third bag. More weapons—assault rifles, handguns, ammunition, hand grenades, and explosives, all neatly organized.

I rapidly pieced the puzzle together. Why were these bags here? This was a rebel stronghold. If they were smuggling weapons from elsewhere and distributing them from this hub... did that make this place a wholesale depot? It would explain why the weapons were pre-packaged into individual bags containing a mix of rifles, handguns, and ammo—perfectly weighted for a single person to carry. And the bag of cash? It was either operational funding for the rebels or the proceeds from an arms deal. Honestly, it didn't matter. Only one thing was absolutely certain: taking this wouldn't come back to bite me. With a swift sweep of my hand, I swept every single bag into my infinite Inventory.

"What took you so long?" Jang O-seong grumbled as I finally stepped out of the command post.

"My apologies, sir. I was certain I left them on the round table, but they were in a completely different spot. It took me a while to find them."

"Is that so? But why are you sweating so much?"

"I think I just panicked, sir. I wanted to find them quickly so I wouldn't keep you waiting, but the harder I looked, the less I could see them."

"Right. Well, let's move. We've been ordered to assemble. The reinforcements have arrived."

"Yes, sir."

And just like that, I quietly returned to base with a massive fortune in tow.