The booby traps I installed are showing their power.
They start detonating here and there.
In places none would expect,
in places the rebels believe without a doubt to be their own territory,
the booby traps start going off.
The rebels begin to panic.
Who set them,
when they were set—booby traps of unknown origin.
Such booby traps start going off everywhere.
The problem is
that these booby traps are made in their own style.
Anyone can see,
they were learned from Derrick Meyer.
Hastily learned and exceedingly clumsy.
They are the very booby traps the rebels themselves had been setting.
Clearly meant to stop intruders,
clearly set to inflict damage on the government forces—
and yet it is the rebels themselves who are taking the damage.
In fact, the rebels have experience falling victim to their own handmade booby traps.
When they first started making booby traps,
they made them, and they set them off themselves.
They detonated while being installed,
and they detonated as people walked past without knowing they were there.
Booby traps of unknown origin.
Booby traps that were probably set by themselves.
Booby traps set to stop the enemy.
They are causing tremendous inconvenience to the rebels.
Thanks to this, every time the rebels passed through the Kampoko region, they were forced to act only after checking and double-checking.
Paths they would normally have crossed with ease,
they now had to cross only after testing every step, as if tapping a stone bridge.
The rebels' movements had slowed greatly because of the booby traps.
.
.
.
The dozens of booby traps I installed were enough to confuse them.
Honestly, the booby traps themselves couldn't inflict enormous damage.
Enough to injure a few people?
Though there were occasional fatalities,
most ended with injuries.
But that doesn't matter.
When the rebels move,
when the rebels relocate.
Will there be booby traps? Won't there be?
They just have to worry, even a little.
They just have to delay their actions, even slightly.
When they need to advance,
if they hesitate,
that is enough for the booby traps' role.
The role of booby traps is not to kill the enemy.
It is to make them doubt everything.
It is to throw them into confusion.
Here, I add one spoonful of chaos.
.
.
.
L’Oasis
The name of the bar run by Jose.
Jose, of French origin, wanted his bar to give people rest and cool respite.
With that meaning, he named the bar L’Oasis.
That day too, after training with Poapi,
I headed to L’Oasis.
"Jose. I'm here."
"Welcome. Our VIP."
"VIP? Isn't that too much?"
"If you visit every day, you're a VIP. And you have good manners, you're clean. To me, you're the best customer."
"Haha. If one bottle of beer makes me a VIP, that's a pretty good deal. One beer, please."
"A TEMBO?"
"Yes. I like that one. It's bitter."
"TEMBO is good beer."
As I spoke, I sat at the bar table right in front of Jose,
and Jose held out to me the beer with the elephant on the label.
Tembo.
This one bottle is ten dollars.
The average monthly salary in Congo is around one hundred to one hundred fifty dollars.
Every evening at L’Oasis, I was dropping the equivalent of two to three days of their wages.
There were times when I drank several bottles a day.
Perhaps I really did qualify as a VIP.
I took a light sip.
The bitter taste went down my throat.
"How's work lately? You looked busy."
"Well, the rebels are making my life hell."
"Why?"
"Because the rebels keep causing trouble."
"Trouble?"
"These days they're planting bombs among themselves, killing each other—it's a mess."
I could feel the eyes of everyone in the bar focusing on my words.
Good.
This was why I came here every day.
Jose was an information broker, so I needed a lot of intel from him,
but it was also a good place to sow disinformation.
The people drinking at this bar were all just one step removed from the rebels.
Congo is that kind of country.
A country where people take money from the government while working for the rebels.
I would sow among them the freshest, hottest fake news.
"It seems the ADF, an Uganda-based Islamist armed group, planted bombs in the M23 area."
"What? Does that even make sense?"
"It doesn't, but that's what our intel says."
"More people are gonna die."
"It seems the ADF also recruited US special forces operators. Their methods are quite similar to M23's."
"But why would the ADF attack M23? There's no reason to attack them?"
"M23 receives support from Rwanda and takes mineral resources too. Their smuggling routes are thriving. They must have been envious of the profits."
"Oh boy..."
"So for the time being, we've halted all security operations. It's too dangerous."
"Good call. You gotta survive first."
My conversation with Jose today would reach the rebel leadership by tomorrow morning.
The ADF's attack on M23 would probably be accepted as an established fact.
M23 is the largest and most powerful among the rebel groups.
The ADF is smaller than M23,
but even so, it was a fairly large-scale rebel group in Africa.
In Congo, M23 is first place, and ADF is second.
Their relationship was neither good nor bad.
They did not touch each other's territory,
and operated in their respective zones.
Like gangs.
But the detective managing those gangs says,
the ADF attacked M23.
This rumor would spread quickly.
To the other rebels as well.
No matter how much the ADF denied it,
M23 would be unable to shake its suspicion of the ADF.
They would suspect it even if a neighborhood kid said so.
But when the special forces instructor, who sees all the intelligence, says so?
They would accept it as fact with a very high probability.
For now, first place and second place cannot unite.
I'd be even more grateful if they fought.
The other rebel groups would watch this situation closely.
To see how it would be resolved.
That's the nature of these guys.
They can't believe official statements no matter what,
but they believe fake news hook, line, and sinker.
Security operations were not canceled.
Merely postponed.
This creates an opportunity for these guys to run wild.
I'm leaving the seat empty, so go ahead and play to your heart's content.
******
M23 Rebel Base.
Bakambu, the leader of the M23 rebels,
could not hide his displeasure at the recent news.
"The ADF attacked us?"
"Yes. That is correct."
"The ADF has no reason to attack us."
"I believe they may have been aiming for our smuggling routes."
"If they were after smuggling routes, shouldn't they attack here in Uvira rather than the capital, Kinshasa?"
"It is interpreted to mean they attacked Kinshasa to draw support troops there, so they can raid the empty nest."
Derrick Meyer, who had been listening, spoke up.
"Where did you hear that information?"
"It is said to have come from a government forces instructor."
Upon hearing that, Derrick Meyer smirked.
"That information is most likely fake."
"Pardon?"
The intelligence source repeated,
and Bakambu also asked Derrick.
"Why?"
"From the government forces' standpoint, isn't it good if rebels fight each other? If we destroy ourselves fighting, the government forces just need to put out the embers. They're trying to light a fire to make us fight each other—do we really need to play along?"
"But the rumor that we were attacked has spread so widely—you want us to take a beating and stay still?"
"Wouldn't that be better than fighting a pointless battle?"
"No. A winning battle is always useful. Isn't this actually an opportunity? If we wipe out the ADF bastards now, we can absorb their resources and personnel. We didn't have justification before, but now we do. Honestly, I feel like thanking that instructor guy."
"I won't stop you if you wish to fight, but you won't gain much."
"The reason being?"
"Our weapons and systems are far superior to the ADF's; bringing them in and retraining and rearming them would be inefficient. Compared to us, the ADF has no money and no weapons, does it?"
"But our reputation will grow. As the undisputed top dog."
"The risks are too great for a battle to obtain just that title. Aren't we already number one?"
"We're already number one. But listen. Do you think I'm doing this because I want to be number one among rebels?"
"Sir?"
"I don't want to be number one among rebels. I want to take over Congo and liberate Congo based on overwhelming strength. To do that, I'd borrow even a cat's paw. And you're saying we should give up a golden opportunity because you're worried about risks?"
"......."
"If I take over the ADF, there's a high probability other rebels will come under me too."
Derrick Meyer shook his head.
"No. That won't happen. The political and religious relationships run too deep—would they easily rally together?"
"Everyone bends their opinion before a bullet."
"Still, it won't be easy."
Perhaps because he hated Derrick Meyer constantly giving negative opinions,
Bakambu looked at Derrick Meyer once and spoke.
"I believe I brought you in as a combat instructor. Is the man before me an operations officer?"
"......"
"I make the decisions."
"Then the combat instructor shall take his leave."
Derrick left, slamming the door as if in a bad mood,
and Bakambu glared at his retreating figure.
Bakambu had many grievances against Derrick.
He had been pleased when Derrick first said he would join.
Because he was from the Navy SEALs,
he had thought he was from DEVGRU—the best of the Navy SEALs—
but he was from the regular Navy SEALs.
Derrick had never claimed to be from DEVGRU himself.
But he talked about DEVGRU every time he opened his mouth, so Bakambu had assumed he was.
He hadn't been deceived, but he felt deceived, which left a bad taste.
Even if they were both Navy SEALs, regular Navy SEALs and DEVGRU were completely different.
DEVGRU was made up of only the most outstanding talents selected from the Navy SEALs.
Derrick, who wasn't even DEVGRU, from the moment he arrived,
insisted everything needed to be overhauled and demanded full authority.
Do this, do that.
Buy this, build that.
A lot of money was spent.
But all he had done when he should have shown results
was install booby traps.
Setting booby traps wasn't bad in itself,
but there was no overwhelming destructive power.
Bakambu wanted to crush
the UN peacekeepers,
the government forces, with overwhelming military might.
He had wanted to subdue enemies with special forces-like movements.
But Derrick had only installed booby traps here and there.
Those unaccustomed to booby traps were injured while setting them,
and were injured while walking over them.
A few men dying was nothing out of the ordinary, but
from Bakambu's perspective, he had expected overwhelming firepower commensurate with Derrick's arrival.
And yet, booby traps?
If there was one achievement of Derrick's,
it was only resolving the Okapi Sting.
And even then, he had dug an incredibly elaborate trap.
He dug the trap and waited for a long time.
No one knew how many personnel, budget, and hours went into it.
If that operation had failed,
Derrick would have become a corpse on the spot.
They had clashed over this and that besides that,
but the biggest clash was over the education of the rebel troops.
Derrick kept trying to make the rebels into soldiers.
Rebels are not soldiers.
They are not people who keep the peace.
They are people who create chaos.
Quietly training and waiting for deployment doesn't suit their nature.
Killing, pillaging, and slaughtering—that is what rebels do.
If they see something they like while passing by, they take it.
If they don't like it, they kill it.
That is what rebels are.
Derrick should just teach them the skills to kill people.
Derrick's opinions are unnecessary.
Now is the time to decide.
Will they attack the ADF?
Or will they endure and let it pass?
Fortunately, the government forces said they would not conduct security operations.
The UN peacekeepers haven't been seen at all lately.
Now is the opportunity.
Without interference from government forces and UN peacekeepers.
An opportunity to seize the ADF.
To prepare overwhelming forces.
An opportunity to devour Congo.
Now nothing can stop M23.
The era of M23 has come.
Bakambu's world has come.
"Prepare to attack the ADF."