Game Theory
Among mathematical theories, there's one called game theory. It's a theory about interdependent and rational decision-making, and it's genuinely fascinating. It's a mathematical framework where an individual or group, when taking an action whose outcome depends not only on themselves but also on the actions of other participants, pursues the course that maximizes their own benefit. In the end, it boils down to each participant making moves to secure the greatest possible reward. Why bring this up? Because the next day, when we assembled, those two squads were in rough shape. Hadn't Kamio said those two squads had colluded? Kamio stood beside me, smirking as he looked at them.
"Idiots. They turned on each other."
"Attention! Today we're conducting supply recovery training. Squad leaders, step forward."
Typhoon and the other squad leaders moved to the front. Two of them limped out. I couldn't hear clearly, but it sounded like our squad leader was mocking Soho's squad leader. Soho's face was turning sour. They drew lots or something similar and brought the items back.
"We depart simultaneously at 0600. Get ready."
We dismantled the quarters, repacked our gear, assembled, and moved out. At the head of the column, Typhoon and Nipper studied the map and discussed routes. Not all squads traveled together. At each fork in the path, we split into pairs, and after about thirty minutes, the groups separated further.
We'd been walking for roughly an hour when a sudden whoosh sounded and Typhoon dropped. "Scatter!" Nipper shouted from behind, diving into the forest on the side. I followed in the same direction. We established a perimeter, but I couldn't spot where the shot had come from. Three minutes later, movement rustled in the left-side woods about a hundred meters away. It was the instructors.
Typhoon got back up. Blood was seeping from his thigh. The bleeding stopped quickly after he applied pressure, but our squad had no choice but to divide his gear among us. I grumbled about it. What kind of move was it to hit us one-sided like that? Kamio chimed in.
"If this had been real combat, we'd all be dead."
"That instructor's good. He actually fooled Typhoon."
"Why?"
"Typhoon spotted the instructor during basic training and received instruction from him."
"It's legendary. Straight-up legend."
Legend or not, this was exhausting. Fortunately, we placed second that day. The two squads below us had apparently paved the way. I was thinking that four weeks of this would break anyone's body when the next day turned out to be classroom instruction instead. It was local education—Philippine ecology training. What was edible, what wasn't, what to avoid, and so on. That afternoon they told us to review as a squad, and before dinner they gave us a test. I must have bombed it, because we went hungry that night. At least they only announced the squad average, so my individual failure wasn't made public.
The next morning, after a full day of rest, all four squads looked fresh again. I figured we'd do physical training, and sure enough, we moved out in the morning just like the first day. We met at the designated point and conducted infiltration training. It was a time-attack mission designed to improve map-reading, improvisation, and stamina. Nipper supported well—he found paths easily. No matter how much I checked the GPS and map, I still couldn't tell where we were. The objective was to touch down at a point four kilometers away. Cutting through jungle made the difficulty high. Now I understood why we'd received local ecology training the day before. I nearly got bitten by a cobra. Philippine cobras average one to 1.2 meters in length, live in the northern regions, are diurnal, and rest in rock crevices or under trees at night. They like water and are often found near ponds; they're also strong swimmers. They inhabit everything from rainforests and plains to forests and even urban areas. Though among the smaller cobra species, their venom ranks second in potency, and among Asian cobras it's the strongest. They're aggressive and, being spitting cobras, can project venom, so caution is required. Hearing the hissing sound beforehand let me spot it in time. If I'd been daydreaming, I would've been in trouble.
After covering eight kilometers round-trip while carrying full gear at a near-run, we were physically drained again. And once more, we went without food. The venom in my squadmates' eyes seemed to be getting stronger. That night we didn't sleep either—they made us do a night march. At least there was a road. We reached the site at 0200, set up the barracks, and by then the sun was rising. With daylight came the next training: water operations. There were boats that looked like IBS. The instructors kept yelling "Die, die!" as usual. From morning onward we were rolling around in the water. Toward the end of the morning session, the instructors did what they always did—they turned it into a competition. It wasn't a triathlon, thankfully, just a solo-gear run to hit points and return, which meant climbing hills and crossing water. I wanted to finish fast, but first we had to plan tactics. One squad member had to carry the objective, hit the point, and bring it back. We discussed whether to move as a group or split up. It wasn't just a time-attack exercise anymore; by the final stretch we were also worrying about how the opposing squad would play it. Why? Because capturing the other squad's objective awarded bonus points. The objective was an ammunition can marked with spray paint. Since we were in solo gear, there wasn't anywhere good to hide it. Carrying it in a pack or separately made it obvious. It felt like it weighed about five kilograms.
Kamio offered an idea. "What if we track them?"
"They'll be thinking the same thing. If they spot us, a counterattack will put us in a bad spot."
"Brown's aggressive, so they'll probably move as a group."
"What's the chance they'll ambush us?"
"No idea."
I raised my hand. "Same objective point?"
"Yeah. We just start from the opposite side of the site."
"What if some of us go light, reach the point first, and link up with the main body?"
"Send an advance party?"
"Right."
"If the advance party gets hit, our odds of winning drop sharply."
As the discussion continued, personalities surfaced—aggressive types, cautious types, those who preferred strategy. In the end, the leader made the call. After about twenty minutes of debate, we all looked at Typhoon.
"We'll go with Nipper's plan."
The moment the decision was made, we became one. At 1100 we assembled. Our squad and Brown's squad took off at the sound of gunfire, moving diagonally. We'd decided on an early ambush because Nipper predicted Brown wouldn't split their forces. But we failed. The prediction was wrong. We searched, found them, and ambushed, yet two were missing. The remaining six fought viciously. We won on numbers, but we had no idea how the overall scoring worked.
Nipper spoke up. "The search area is too wide. They could come back the way they arrived, take our route, or use a third path entirely."
"What if two of us head to the point to tag it while the rest search?"
Typhoon decided again. "Let's do that."
Nipper and Michael, the best at navigation, carried the objective while the rest of us split into pairs to search. An hour later we received the radio order to return. We'd been crushed. Waiting with sour faces, I felt the mood sour further when the squad gathered. The instructor told us to maintain gear, and once inside the barracks we asked what had happened. Nipper answered.
"Shit. When we reached the point they were already waiting in ambush. They took it from us."
Total defeat. No excuses. We'd lost on strategy and on execution. That afternoon we dismantled the barracks and marched. The objective point turned out to be the village where we'd done our first training.
"Huh? Training's over?"
"Tomorrow's Sunday."
True to this being a Christian country, they observed the Sabbath. On the way back our squad reviewed the reasons for our loss and renewed our resolve. We returned to the site. Sergeant Kang gave a brief closing speech, then granted personal time.
"Relax. It's really free time."
After six days of tension, the habit was hard to break. Kamio, watching me, must have felt sorry and offered advice.
"Want to go to church?"
"No, you go ahead. I need to handle some work."
"Suit yourself."
I went to Sergeant Kang, retrieved the phone I'd turned in, and spent the week catching up on organizational matters. First I checked the status of GBC, which now accounted for a large portion of our assets. I'd instructed Secretary Ko to report on it weekly. The total had decreased slightly—whether due to an incident or an adjustment phase, I couldn't tell. A note from either Secretary Ko or Deputy General Manager Seong simply read "normal," so I took it at face value. Domestic sales headquarters showed no major issues, and overseas operations continued to perform well, though personnel changes occurred as usual. There was also an update on Prosecutor Seo: public opinion was pushing him as a star prosecutor toward politics, but he hadn't made a decision yet. Running in a local district looked difficult, so the party was apparently trying to recruit him as a proportional representative. Executive Director Ha also wanted me to contact him regarding Song Miju; he had something to report.