Riding the Bullies into Line
Am I grinning like an idiot right now? Fortunately, the days when people mistook me for a lowly private ended after the first one. It was all thanks to getting my warrant officer badge and uniform issued on arrival day.
Officer uniforms came in two types. The dress uniform for peacetime and duty wear. And the combat uniform for wartime and training. The dress uniform was what those guys patrolling Geomunpo or standing guard at Busan-jin’s main gate wore. Stiff fabric with sharp lines. Glossy dark navy cloth. Shiny metal ornaments. Anyone could tell it was for public-facing duties.
The combat uniform, on the other hand, was a different story. Loose and baggy for intense movement. Olive drab fabric like the stuff from the Korean War. Pockets everywhere screaming for attention. Fine for battle comfort, maybe, but not something you'd strut around in front of people.
Still, it wasn't wartime right now. I could prowl the base in my standout dress uniform. I'd arrived a few days early before the final muster, leaving me with time to burn. To kill it, I took a stroll around Busan-jin base.
“P-private! Victory!”
A soldier coming from the opposite direction whispered a victory salute like a mouse and saluted. Having done my full hitch as a sergeant back in the modern day, I lazily raised a hand in return.
“Yeah. Loyalty. Good work.”
True to form for this backwater era, army and navy salute calls were different. And that wasn't the only thing. Name tags and ranks were black for army, blue for navy. Jeolla trained its navy officers in Naju, Gyeongsang in Tongyeong. The warrant officers assigned this year were my contemporaries, but from different academies, so we'd never exchanged words. Even if I approached friendly-like, they'd pretend not to know me and slink away. What the hell was their deal?
“Hah, hah, hah.”
“Hey. You in heat or what? Why're you panting like that?”
“S-sorry, sir!”
The voice belonged to Sergeant Park Dol-seok, loud and clear. Mounted on his back, I smacked his helmeted head encouragingly.
“You gonna do this right or not? Didn't you pick on me? Didn't I get picked on by you? Then shouldn't you do it properly?”
“S-sorr—aaagh!!”
“Ah, shit. You startled me. Not you talking? The horse? Why so noisy?”
“S-sorry, s-sir...!”
This bastard wasn't just trash. Beating underclassmen was baseline; he'd extort paychecks under loan pretenses, harass with every petty abuse imaginable.
“Navy really lets anyone in, huh? Even scum like you.”
“Hah! Hah! Hah!”
“Hey. Answer me.”
“S-sergeant Park Dol-seok! Yes, sir!”
“You answer fine. Real good at that!”
Thwack! This time I swung my fist like a hammer into the helmet. Still not enough to vent my rage. But pushing further risked real injury, so I showed a sliver of mercy.
“See that flagpole? Get there, and I'll stop.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“Hey, shithead. State your name and rank.”
“S-sergeant Park Dol-seok! Yes, sir! Got it!”
“Go! Hyah!”
I barely needed to slap his ass; Sergeant Park was already crawling. Of course, I didn't have to ride this prick like a pony. Assaulting a superior. Beating and extorting underlings, threats, coercion. Even one charge meant dishonorable discharge for sure.
But I believe anyone can be reformed. If they truly internalize their fuckups to the bone, they'll turn good. I wasn't holding back the report just to torment this guy forever. Absolutely not.
“Ughhh!”
Sergeant Park finally reached the flagpole and collapsed with a yell. I'd anticipated it, hopping off first and planting my feet.
“Hahk! Hahk! Hahk! Hahk!”
Sergeant Park sprawled, heaving for air. His green combat uniform was soaked in sweat, dark patches everywhere.
“Hey.”
I crouched by his head. Sweat beaded on his face as I whispered low.
“One more whisper of you pulling that shit, and I'll report this too. Then stripping your uniform won't be the issue. That day, you'll be digging in the mines. Got it?”
“Hahk! Hahk! Hahk! Y-yes, sir!”
“What, you buy your name and rank on the market?”
“S-sergeant, Sergeant Park Dol-seok! Yes, sir! Got it!”
I wasn't the only one dodging a report. His choice factored in. Report and dishonorable discharge vs. private punishment. Sergeant Park picked the latter. He might torment underlings, but he took soldiering seriously.
“Good. Treat your underclassmen right. They're here to defend the country, just like you.”
“Sergeant Park Dol-seok! Yes, sir! I'll keep it in mind!”
“Yeah. That's all. Hold up a sec.”
I stood and headed back to the start point, grabbing the leather canteen left there. Back to him.
“Hey. You, get down.”
“Me, sir?”
“Yeah, you, asshole. Who else? Down, now.”
That's when I spotted a new "mount." Looked like my Park-ride had inspired someone. A soldier crossing the parade ground was making his underling prone to mount up. Army was a real shitshow. Munjong would've stomped in fury at the sight. I strode over.
“Uh, victory!”
The senior just atop his underling spotted me and saluted.
“Yeah. Loyalty.”
Casual salute back, then I eyed his chest.
“Sergeant Choi Hang-gu?”
“Yes, sir! Sergeant Choi Hang-gu!”
Called out, he pumped a fist proudly, bellowing his name and rank. Cocky as hell. I grinned along.
“Get off him. Now.”
“Y-yes, sir?”
“What? 'Sir'?”
“N-no, why say that, sir?”
Still clueless, he laughed it off and dismounted. Ignoring him, I looked down at the soldier still prone.
“Hey. Get up.”
“M-me, sir?”
“Yeah, you. Up. Dust off.”
His dopey moves screamed rookie. Single chevron on his chest, total confusion on his face.
“Here, take this.”
Handed him the canteen, pointed at Sergeant Park slumped by the flagpole.
“Give that to Sergeant Park Dol-seok over there.”
“Y-yes, sir! Private Song Sam-dol! Yes, sir! Got it!”
Third son, maybe? Anyway, Private Song hustled off on my orders. I watched him glance back but speed away, then turned to Sergeant Choi. Still smirking, clueless.
“C'mon, Warrant Officer Kim. Why so serious? Us soldiers always goof like this.”
“...”
“If you're offended, my bad.”
“...”
“Ah, uh, skip dinner tonight. Hit the gisaeng house? My treat, big time.”
“Hey.”
“Yes? Sergeant Choi Hang-gu?”
“Am I grinning like an idiot right now?”
His smirk finally dipped. Face hardening, I glared.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Uh, well, time till duty, so messing with the rookie.”
“Messing?”
“Y-yes. Soldiers always do. I got it bad from seniors as a private...”
“'Got it bad'—that's casual talk.”
With each word, I closed in. Taller by half a head, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. Face to face, I asked.
“So, what your seniors did to you as a private? That's your excuse?”
“Y-yes. That's right.”
“You messing with me now?”
His hopeful smirk crashed. Looked like he'd face court-martial at this rate.
“Just 'cause you got it as a private means you do it to others? That okay? Hey, I'm asking.”
“N-no, sir!”
“You know it's not—then why? Say it.”
“J-just messing arou—”
“Messing? A-round? Casual again? Think warrant officer means easy target?”
“S-sorry, sir! Forgive me!”
“Forgive? Why me? You're a real piece of work.”
Face purpling, eyes tearing up. Lunchtime nearing, I scanned around to wrap up and eat. Perfect—Private Song was back from watering Park.
“Hey. Private Song. C'mere.”
“Y-yes, sir! Private! Song Sam-dol!”
“No running. Walk. You'll trip.”
Watched till he arrived, then eyed Sergeant Choi. Frowning, confused. Casual to him, polite to a lowly private? Baffling him.
...Huh, yeah, that was weird. Just hit me too. Whatever, too late now.
“Hey. What're you doing?”
Skipped pointing it out, nodded at Private Song.
“Huh?”
Clueless Choi got the polite rundown.
“No apology? Victim's Private Song, right? You ride me? You rode him.”
“Th-that's...”
“What. Why. Some rule sergeants can't apologize to privates? Or they can ride 'em like ponies? Want me to check regs?”
“N-no, sir!”
He got it—apologize or escalate. Bellowed at Private Song.
“Sorry! Won't happen again!”
“N-no, sir! No need!”
Private Song waved it off, shaking his head. Almost wrapped...
“Hey.”
Grab! Yanked Sergeant Choi's collar, pulling his bigger frame close. Whispered like with Park.
“One more whisper of you harassing rookies or underlings? Straight to the mines. Even if not, I'll make it happen somehow. Got it?”
“Y-yes, sir! Sergeant Choi Hang-gu! Got it!”
Got it? No need to hold. Released collar, smoothed his wrinkles, warned.
“Watch it. I remember your face and name.”
“Yes, sir! Got it!”
“Good. Go eat. Enjoy your chow.”
Sent them off, turned. Sergeant Park, somewhat recovered, sat zoning out.
“...!”
Eye contact— he scrambled up.
Gotta ask him what's for lunch today.
Walking over, lunch menu wasn't all I pondered. Few days till Tsushima dispatch training. Looked like I'd found a boredom-buster.