Chapter 235
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 235
Chapter Title: Suspended Sentence (7)
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The reporter's voice overlaid the footage coming in from the drone.
"The Russian government spokesperson stated that this incident arose from a combination of factors. While the direct cause was a shortage of ammunition, there was also poor judgment on the part of the commander who was concerned about it."
The news anchor asked,
"Wait a minute, Douglas. What do you mean by poor judgment?"
"They issued too little ammunition to the soldiers in an attempt to conserve it. In fact, when the defensive line collapsed, frontline units retreated due to a lack of ammo, while approximately 600,000 rifle rounds remained in the rear. That's enough for a division to hold out for half a day. They tried to push it forward too late, but the roads were paralyzed by panicked civilians, preventing timely resupply. Now, scattered forces are scrounging abandoned supply vehicles for a last stand. The troops on the east side of the river are focusing solely on defense. No rescue operations seem likely."
"Good heavens, what an absurd situation. They couldn't even use the bullets they had— what on earth was the commander thinking?"
"The defense commander of Ulyanovsk, Major General Viktor Kudryashov, has often appeared depressed since losing his family. That aspect is evident in the command reports released by the Russian Ministry of Defense. When ammo stocks ran low, he even showed signs of obsession, to the point where he didn't trust frontline commanders and had all ammunition managed directly from headquarters. However, the government spokesperson added that the supply requests from frontline commanders attached to the same reports were excessively excessive. There were cases where a single company requested 100,000 rounds per day. That's nearly a thousand rounds per person. Records show friction with the staff over this issue."
"But why on earth would they do that?"
"It seems like a 'grab it first and worry later' mentality once supplies started running short. Local experts analyze it as the emergence of collective egoism. Different units competing for supplies, you know? A 'save myself first' mindset. It's all too understandable, which makes it even more frightening and regrettable. In America, we hope... no, we hope it hasn't happened here."
The reporter was clearly alluding to the failure of the obvious liberation operation. Supply lines had been cut there too. America's largest ammo depot on the mainland, Hawthorne Base, had been contaminated by radiation.
The anchor in the small box in the bottom right of the screen gave a faint smile. The news wasn't great, but it was enough to shift the mood.
"For the time being, things seem okay here. It might be a bit off-topic, but Lieutenant... sorry, Major Han Gyeowol's survival news and the success of the rescue operation have sparked a surge in civilian ammo donation drives."
The squad members watching the news side by side turned their eyes to Winter for a moment. When Winter gave an awkward smile, they jeered lightly, chuckled, or gave thumbs up.
The anchor continued.
"In just five days, 700 million rounds of various types of ammunition have been collected, astonishing Defense Department officials. Citizens who wanted to protect themselves and their families with their own hands are starting to trust the government and military again. A Defense Department official expressed gratitude to the public, stating that the greatest achievement of this drive isn't the ammo itself, but freeing up manpower and resources from ammo production for other uses. With supply issues on the pandemic front normalizing quickly, troops are expected to regain trust and hope in each other. We can do this."
"I agree, Tommy. I hope that's exactly what happens."
"Let's wrap up the off-topic talk and get back to the main point. I get the rough picture, but some parts still don't add up."
"Like what?"
"The Russian government announced just three days ago that they had sufficient domestic munitions production capacity. It's hard to understand how they're short on ammo."
"Ah, on that point, local experts agree. Production capacity aside, their logistics capabilities are deteriorating. Severomorsk and Murmansk, which handle most production, are ports on the Barents Sea near the Arctic. It's fortunate they still have a frozen port toward Europe despite losing the Baltic and Black Sea coasts, but Ulyanovsk, where today's tragedy occurred, is about 2,000 kilometers away in a straight line. Just yesterday, an ammo transport plane crashed due to poor maintenance. It was caught in press censorship and only released today. If that plane had arrived on time, Ulyanovsk's tragedy might have been averted."
"If it's poor maintenance, that means problems with parts supply?"
"Yes. The Russian government is keeping quiet, but voices from practitioners and civilians are blaming America. They're grateful for the food sales in this situation, but complain that too many resources and rare metals are taken in exchange. They accuse the U.S. government of demanding excessive amounts to maintain civilian living standards and protect corporate profits."
Winter thought their position was somewhat understandable. In this world's America, computers, electronics, smartphones, and communication devices were readily available—not just for military supply, but freely traded on the open market. Unlike strictly price-controlled food and essentials, they were expensive, but the fact that you could buy them anytime was encouraging.
'Such circumstances... They must have strained themselves quite a bit to maintain social morale.'
However, from the perspective of someone who had experienced many apocalypses, Winter didn't think the U.S. government was wrong. Procuring only the absolute minimum resources was never a good idea.
Harper said to Schultz,
"It's hard to feel it personally, but when I talk to family, sometimes it hits. If I had to put it, it's like feeling we're living too well for these times? Uh, refugees might get mad if they heard."
"Well... Yeah, they say it was given for free back in the day."
The "old days" Schultz meant was probably World War II. Inaccurate knowledge. It was actually aid with deferred payment. Though they didn't collect full repayment.
"Still, like you said earlier, it's scary thinking we might end up the only ones left. Seeing Kramer doing well makes me think there are more people like him than like me."
Kramer was that Republican presidential candidate. With less than four months until the election, he was still showing strong support. His slogan: "America for Americans, America First!" That was why he was pushing "disarmament" by adopting policies the MacMillan president hated.
"Shouldn't we implement something like rationing too? I think we need to ramp up aid that way."
Winter refuted Alejandro's opinion.
"No. If we did that, we couldn't sustain the current level of aid for long."
He'd had a similar conversation with Colonel Rapplin at old Fort Roberts. About public opinion questioning whether the sacrifices shouldered by American citizens weren't being shifted onto refugees. Even then, Winter hadn't blamed the government's policy. He saw that unfairness as the limit of humanity.
"For example, the anchor just said ammo is pouring in now, right? They couldn't have donated everything they had— even if some citizens donated only part of their stock, it's that much... Doesn't that mean civilians were hoarding far more than they actually needed?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Any supply needs some buffer. The moment people feel something's short or uneasy, it vanishes overnight. Plenty will want to profit from hoarding too."
"Kramer will become president."
"Even if he doesn't enter the White House, it'll end up the same. It's like a bank run. Society has enough to go around, but anxious people panic and it collapses in an instant. So we can't just call it waste."
"That's..."
Alejandro smacked his lips. As an immigrant mix, he might be more open-minded.
"There's a Korean saying: 'When the stomach is full, manners follow.' People need certainty that tomorrow won't be worse than today. In my view, this is the best we can do. To avoid everyone sinking together while saying 'let's all survive.'"
Schultz tossed a remark at Winter, who wrapped it up.
"Major, you have surprisingly low expectations of people."
"You can't expect sacrifice from everyone. Why, is it unexpected?"
"How should I put it... It's funny for me, who hasn't been with you long, to say this, but I had this feeling you had infinite trust in people—wait, that sounds weird now—but anyway. Guess I was wrong. You don't trust them much."
"...I want to believe."
Winter's reply was a beat late, wondering if this was really Schultz's question. But it was idle thought. Even if everything perceived was from that starlight child, it couldn't intervene like this. It was forbidden. The chain binding that child from birth.
"But you don't?"
"People have limits."
Even the boy himself couldn't surpass them. No one is human alone. Not his father, not his mother, not that monstrous chairman Go Geoncheol. The people who made his father, who made his mother, who made Go Geoncheol, and those who made them, and those again. Thus, one person is the responsibility of all.
Winter believed that, yet hatred lingered in his heart.
Harper cut in.
"Why ask something like that? Not like you're an old geezer."
"Old geezer? Hey, I'm not much older than you."
The silly banter didn't last. Vivid gunfire poured from the speaker. The squad members flinched on instinct and stared at the urgently shaking TV screen. It was the POV of a Russian soldier. Inside a building, pouring suppressive fire at mutants smashing through barricades. His aim was precise despite ragged breathing. Probably conserving ammo, but it showed the grit of surviving the apocalypse so far.
"Ha, since when did they start wearing cameras?"
Alejandro muttered. Schultz, eyes fixed on the screen, replied.
"There's a difference in scale, but they do most of what we do. A camera's nothing special."
It was special. Many countries would feel insulted dismissing soldier-commander shared vision as "just a camera."
"Damn it! There are so many of them!"
"Go to the stairs!"
The meaning was clear from the visuals. Russian soldiers were defending a large hall in some building, but the main entrance was overwhelmed, and even barred windows were being torn open. Despite trying to kill one per shot, full-auto sprays increased, followed by repeated empty clicks. At the commander's order, soldiers hastily abandoned the line and fell back. Other troops building a secondary block at the landing made way.
"Ugh, this is gross," Alejandro groaned, pointing at the device on the Russian soldiers' chests.
"What's that ticking thing?"
Schultz said uncertainly.
"Radio...? No. Frequency doesn't match, and it's changing randomly."
Winter gave the answer.
"That's a Geiger counter. Radiation detector."
He'd relied on them enough in runs with heavy contamination. Products varied in appearance, but he recognized the common traits from experience.
"No way, why put one on every soldier...?"
Winter had no answer to that. No knowledge.
Tick-tick-tick-tick—the counter's clicks grew frequent. Closing off the stairs and sealing the door, the Russians' faces showed thick fear and despair. The U.S. soldiers empathized deeply. When someone on screen started sobbing and screaming, the POV owner muffled his crying comrade.
"Shh. Those monsters are nearby!"
A barely audible whisper. The famine lord's hungry roar leaked through the door crack.
"No way those mutants are radiating everywhere?"
You had to think like Alejandro. The reading started at decimals in microsieverts, climbing toward two digits.
Wondering if he'd ever go to Russia, Winter watched closely.