Chapter 52
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Journal & Taking Action
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#Journal, Page 83, Camp Roberts
In the end, Jeffrey's prediction was spot on. Another medal. Sure enough, Major Bliss from Public Affairs showed up with that "This kid again?" look on his face. I even felt a little sorry for him.
This time, it was the Distinguished Service Medal—lower tier than a combat award. Even so, more reporters swarmed than before. Major Bliss had his hands full keeping them in check.
The reporters asked me for a word of encouragement for American citizens. Of course, I had my lines ready. Major Bliss had fed me exactly what to say. I wondered what the point even was. Still, I delivered them as scripted. Even these cringeworthy ones.
“Protect your families and hometowns! I’ll help you!”
Forcing a smile was pure agony. No matter how I sliced it, it felt awkward as hell, but the reporters ate it up and kept filming. Their sensibilities must run on a different wavelength from regular folks. Or maybe the world's gone mad and dragged them down with it.
An invitation came from the civilian zone. Day in, day out of boredom and anxiety—I was the perfect excuse for a festival. The combat camera footage had already hit the news. They'd said it was for the training manual, but promo material came first.
Ignoring the invite wasn't an option. They'd assumed I'd show and decked out the entrance zone with flair. Skipping it would've let down a ton of people and wasted all their prep.
Even after showing up, I wasn't at ease. Blame the stares. Some personal, some more political. A California state senator took an interest in me. Even called over reporters for photos.
Beyond that, there were temptations for a night together. They put it like this: in these perilous times, craving a strong man is only natural, right? But I sensed a different kind of desire from them. Hard to put into words, but it felt like a need to show off.
Like they didn't want me as a person?
Who knows. In a country where attitudes toward sex are pretty free, maybe it's not that big a deal.
I realized these things aren't just movie tropes.
Anyway, I turned them down. The "still a minor" excuse held up decently. Most chalked it up to cultural differences, though a few burst out laughing. Like it was that hilarious.
It hit me anew: the process of being molded into a hero is anything but easy on the honoree.
#Journal, Page 84, Camp Roberts
As Christmas approached, the TV vibe shifted.
It wasn't just carols piping through anymore. Lineups that had been all disaster alerts and news started mixing in talk shows, stand-up comedy, dramas—everyday stuff. The big hits were goofy depictions of the infected variants.
Shut-down channels were coming back online one by one. Viewership spiked hard.
To me, it signaled confidence in beating the disaster. An effort to spread some positivity, no doubt.
One of the new shows went like this.
「DIY for Patriots! Today's the first episode!」
The gist: make the gear and supplies the nation needs, DIY-style. I figured it'd be lightweight fluff at first, but nope—dead serious.
「Hello, patriotic citizens nationwide. I'm your all-purpose tech wizard, MacGyver Johnson. Starting today, over seven weeks, we'll carve wood together, patriots! Wood for what, you ask? Don't freak out. A relief supply transport plane!」
I thought I'd misheard. The host doubled down.
「No need to doubt it. Exactly what you're picturing—a flying transport plane! No need to chicken out. You can build it with the basic tools gathering dust in your garage!」
"Basic tools" by American standards, anyway. Self-making or fixing stuff is everyday culture here.
「We'll call this project... yep! Wooden Wonder! History buffs, you'll go 'Aha!'—that's right, when we were pounding the Nazi scum, those quirky Brits built a killer bomber out of wood! I drew inspiration from that. Oh, not the exact same thing, of course!」
Then the screen showed blueprints. A phone number popped up. Call to order, pay for the plans, all proceeds donated to the defense fund.
「Our plane doesn't need armor, high altitude, or speed! Our enemies have no anti-air guns! Wings? Nah! Our hope, the 'Wooden Wonder,' just needs to carry cargo and people and fly!」
The tech guy, MacAllister, rattled off specs for a proper build: max 2 tons of payload, 1,000 km range.
Closing pitch:
「We've stocked materials at local community centers! Finished parts go through spec and quality checks, then the Department of Defense buys them up! Patriots, we need your support!」
"Finished parts" meant rough assemblies handed off to pros—he showed himself finishing one on a machine lathe.
The real key was motivation. Having a task at hand does wonders against that sense of helplessness.
In the same vein, recruitment ads got a fresh coat of paint. War heroes still urging enlistment, same as ever. Just less grimdark, more humor.
First up: a ripped white sergeant lounging on a grumble corpse. Reporter asks:
「What do you think humanity needs to protect itself?」
Sergeant:
「More guns, more ammo, and even more bastards.」
Reporter follows up:
「Bastards—does that exclude women?」
Sergeant scowls.
「Does gender matter when it comes to being a bastard?」
Cut to the reporter beaming.
「There you have it! God bless 'Merica! Yeah! You can be a bastard too! Call now! Dallas! 972-392-9158! Fort Worth! 817-467-3266!...」
The ad nodded to the latest draft law revisions. Used to be men 18-65 only; now women are fair game too.
As of today, December 22, U.S. forces topped 8 million. Refugee support roles keep expanding. Hard to guess where the military swell ends.
Mid-thought, there I was on TV. Flag waving, jets streaking needlessly. Me striking a cool pose in the middle.
「Protect your families and hometowns! I’ll help you!」
What the hell...
#Taking Action (1), Camp Roberts
The journal intel started showing real-world ripples at Camp Roberts. The U.S. military kicked off recruiting skilled refugee workers.
For the 「Winter Alliance」, Winter stepped in as recruiter. She sifted folks by their listed jobs and specialties. With the alliance's size, they filled a whole tent.
“Those selected go first to base construction or facility restoration. Could also deploy to factories, power plants, field maintenance depots, etc. Pay at private level plus hazard bonus. Any takers?”
Hazard pay made them flinch. No one jumped. Someone raised a hand tentatively.
“Uh, not signing up yet—just a question.”
“Shoot.”
“No citizenship?”
Winter made a regretful face.
“Nothing on that yet. Looks like manpower crunch comes first.”
Plenty of letdowns. Another question right away.
“You said private pay—how much exactly?”
Winter flipped through the recruitment order appendix, the pay table.
“Starts at $1,756 a month. Adjusted up for skill level, experience, conversational English. Hazard base is $150; mandatory for off-camp work. $225 if combat breaks out on site.”
“Even so, that's around 2 million won. No real choice but to go, huh...”
More hands shot up everywhere. Winter fielded them one by one. Mostly safety concerns.
After all that, final count: 17 volunteers. More than half hung back. More recruits would've boosted the 「Winter Alliance」's clout, but no arm-twisting. Stability over quotas this time.
Among them, a welder with a speech impediment. He demoed skills that wowed the U.S. examiner. They'd balked at first over his English and communication issues. Other techs crowded around, impressed.
“Whew, check those beads? Artisan level, pure artisan.”
“Asked for a weld, he stacks dragon scales.”
“Sneak peek at the torch work—straight art.”
Even to Winter the layman, the seams looked pristine. Identical scales layered neat as you please. Pass was a lock; pay bump incoming.
His name was Park Byung-hu. He grinned sheepishly.
Winter pulled him aside.
“You really sure about this?”
Park Byung-hu pulled out pen and notepad.
「What do you mean? Think I can't because I'm disabled?」
“Not discriminating. I'd love for you to take the job—more economic muscle for the alliance. Shifts how folks see disabled people too.”
She caught her breath, then continued.
“But I worry you're feeling pressured to step up precisely because you're disabled. That'd be the real discrimination. Off-base work is riskier, no denying it.”
The 「Winter Alliance」 had its share who disliked the disabled. Couldn't defy Winter openly, so they played quiet. Out of sight: subtle sneers and insults aplenty.
Just look at the memo from Yi Hoon-tae that reached her. Posing as deaf, he still caught nonstop cursing and mockery right in his face.
Wasn't half-pushed by the vibe? That was Winter's real angle.
Work hazards differed too, plain fact. Acknowledging differences isn't discrimination.
Byung-hu scribbled.
「Thanks for thinking of me. I do feel a sense of duty, but it's not something I hate. I want to give it a shot, risks and all.」
Winter nodded.
“Got it. Go for it.”
The U.S. examiner was calling passers. Byung-hu hustled to join the line. Footsteps approached behind Winter—several sets.
Chinese faces. Winter greeted the lead one.
“Long time, Miss Li.”
Li Airing gave Winter a quiet nod.
She looked different. Before, deliberately overdone. Now, plain. White clothes. Given the Sanhehui situation, probably mourning garb.
She asked Winter,
“Were those words you said before... still good?”
Winter had been expecting it. She nodded.