Episode 4: The Calm Before the Storm (2)
Sergeant Gates had been feeling strange lately.
Needless to say, the source of that feeling was Second Lieutenant Arthur Grey.
When word reached the company that Second Lieutenant Grey had regained consciousness, Gates had been playing chess with the company commander, Captain Harrison.
Hearing the news, the two men had sighed simultaneously, neither faster than the other.
Ah, fuck. We’re fucked.
God truly doesn’t give a damn.
To think He would save a bastard like him, of all people.
Second Lieutenant Grey’s notoriety was infamous enough that even the neighboring battalion knew of him.
Captain Harrison and Sergeant Gates had always lived on edge, anxious about what accident would happen next, and whenever Second Lieutenant Grey caused an incident, they were the ones who got chewed out.
Yet the ringleader behind all those incidents showed no sign of remorse, let alone apology.
If not for his family background, he was someone who would have had his neck wrung long ago.
If he hadn’t been an officer in the first place, they would have beaten him within an inch of his life and still had energy to spare.
Sergeant Gates sincerely regretted refusing the regimental commander’s offer from long ago to become an officer candidate.
Had he accepted that offer back then, by now he would hold the rank of lieutenant or even captain, and he could have beaten Second Lieutenant Grey to his heart’s content.
He wouldn’t have been able to avoid disciplinary action, but at least it wouldn’t have been “assaulting a superior officer,” and since Second Lieutenant Grey had committed so many misdeeds, it might have ended with nothing more than a pay cut or confinement to quarters.
But what could he do about it now?
It wasn’t like he could go back to the past just because he regretted it.
Still, there was no helping the bitterness in his gut.
Ever since Second Lieutenant Grey returned to the unit, Sergeant Gates’s primary duty had been fixed to monitoring him.
This was an order directly from Captain Harrison, intended to stop Grey by any means necessary before he showed signs of causing another accident.
“If he resists, you are free to use force. No, please do. I will take full responsibility. I’ve already given up on promotion anyway; now my only concern is how to take that bastard down.”
Captain Harrison spoke with complete sincerity.
From then on, Sergeant Gates watched Second Lieutenant Grey with fire in his eyes.
This time, he absolutely had to stop him before he caused an accident. He had to.
By whatever means necessary, he had to prevent that delinquent from disgracing the entire company.
But… something was strange.
Somehow, Second Lieutenant Grey was different from the man Sergeant Gates remembered.
He forgot where the officers’ mess was, he spaced out frequently, and he let sloppy salutes from soldiers slide when he used to complain about them…….
Was it because of aftereffects from the accident?
Or had Captain Harrison completely wrecked him, causing him to watch his step?
‘No, that can’t be it…….’
A man who committed all sorts of misdeeds and acted shamelessly was going to change overnight?
People don’t change easily.
And a piece of human trash like Second Lieutenant Grey all the more so.
It was as difficult as the sun rising in the west.
That was the conclusion Sergeant Gates had reached in life.
But there was no doubt that Grey had undergone a significant change recently.
It wouldn’t have been strange for an accident or some sign to occur by now, yet he was far too quiet.
Especially these days, he walked around pale as a ghost, as if he’d seen something terrifying.
Once, Gates had seen him muttering to himself, clutching his head, lost in thought.
Worried he might be plotting something, Gates had approached to hear what he was saying, only to catch incomprehensible words.
Sickle Cut…… Manstein, those baguette bastards, Dunkirk…… what the hell were all these words?
There was no connection between them; they were just a list of unfamiliar terms.
Why was that bastard suddenly acting like that? Had he gone mad?
But if that were the case, he wouldn’t have been diligently attending to barracks life and training…….
‘Difficult to judge…….’
Sergeant Gates’s doubts only continued to grow.
When evening came, he headed to the company commander’s office.
It was to report the “information” he had gathered.
When he knocked on the door, he heard Captain Harrison’s exhausted voice.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, sir.”
“Ah, come in.”
Upon entering, he saw Captain Harrison greeting him with bloodshot eyes.
He seemed to have finally finished wrestling with the mountain of paperwork on his desk.
“So. How is he? Any suspicious signs?”
“Yes, sir. He’s quiet for now, but something is strange.”
Captain Harrison narrowed his brow at Sergeant Gates’s words.
His hand, which had been pulling a fresh cigarette from the pack, paused.
“Strange? Does he look like he’s planning another accident?”
“It didn’t seem like that, sir……. How should I put it, he looked like an entirely different person.”
“A different person?”
“Yes. At least, that’s how he looked to my eyes. I don’t know whether he’s acting while hiding his true nature, or suffering from aftereffects of the accident. However, he was clearly different from his usual self.”
“Hmm, that is quite strange…….”
To the groaning captain, Sergeant Gates explained the behavior he had observed in Second Lieutenant Grey.
Of course, he also mentioned the lieutenant’s strange mutterings.
Even if they were strings of words unknown to Gates himself, he had thought the more experienced Captain Harrison might recognize them.
Captain Harrison listened carefully to his subordinate.
While Sergeant Gates spoke, he didn’t move a finger.
“……That is everything I have seen and heard. What should we do going forward?”
“Mmmm…….”
Captain Harrison couldn’t answer easily.
It was a matter that even Sergeant Gates, who had witnessed it directly, couldn’t easily conclude. Harrison, too, looked visibly troubled.
A hasty decision could lead to an even bigger accident, yet he couldn’t continue suspecting a subordinate without any grounds.
“It’s certainly a difficult question to answer clearly. As you say, it could be aftereffects of the accident, or he may have decided to act for the time being. For now, let’s keep watching. It’ll be troublesome for you, but I’m asking this of you.”
“Understood, sir.”
In the end, an ambiguous decision to wait and see was made.
Though he thought it couldn’t be helped, Sergeant Gates still couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling.
***
I’m fucked, I’m fucked, I’m fucked!
Every breath made my blood dry up; it felt like my lifespan was decreasing by the minute.
Today was May 9, 1940.
More precisely, there were four hours left until May 9th ended.
I found myself wishing time would just stop like this.
Never before had the ticking of a clock’s second hand grated on my ears so much.
Tomorrow, the full-scale German invasion of France would begin. The commencement of what was known as Operation Sichelschnitt.
In response to the anticipated German invasion, the Allied forces would immediately head to Belgium. Even as the German army swept through Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg, they would be elated, believing everything was going according to plan.
But as anyone who knows World War II history is well aware, it was merely a feint.
The real enemy would swing around the Ardennes Forest and strike the Allied rear—an unprecedented operation that would cause France to fall to Germany in a mere six weeks.
Naturally, the Allied forces would suffer terribly because of this, including the British army to which I belonged.
Unless something changed, history would flow according to schedule.
That massive current would eventually sweep away even someone like me.
To think that at this critical moment, I could do nothing but sit still and wait for disaster to approach!
I felt I could understand, if only a little, the feelings of livestock waiting to be slaughtered.
Because my current situation was exactly that.
As time passed, all sorts of thoughts came to me.
‘Should I pretend to be crazy and run to headquarters right now, telling them the Germans will invade tomorrow?’
It was quite a resolve, but I quickly concluded it was nonsense.
I was an officer, but a complete bottom-rung nobody, and one treated as human trash because of past incidents, at that.
I would be lucky if they didn’t drag me to an asylum instead of listening.
Then should I desert?
Wouldn’t it be better to become a deserter than to get caught up in the upcoming battle and die or be crippled?
This was also nonsense.
Where and how would I survive until the war ended?
And if I were unlucky enough to be caught by the military police?
Deserting during wartime was enough to warrant the death penalty.
Being captured by the enemy was also a problem.
The Germans at least treated British POWs relatively well since they were Anglo-Saxons rather than “inferior Slavs,” but I would be locked in a POW camp until the war ended.
They wanted me to spend a whopping five years in a POW camp where the only food was pale cabbage soup and black bread, with no entertainment whatsoever? Was that insane?
Of course, it was better than dying a dog’s death on the battlefield, but if possible, I wanted to avoid becoming a prisoner of war.
Ah…… I don’t know, I don’t know anything.
When I looked at the clock, it was already 9 p.m.
There was one hour left until lights out.
Restlessly pacing the room with an anxious heart, I took out a bottle of Scotch from the desk drawer.
It was what Arthur Grey used to drink; there was still a bit left inside.
Thinking that alcohol entering my body would let me forget my anxiety for the moment, I opened the Scotch without hesitation.
A sweet yet pungent, fishy alcohol scent struck my nose.
Mm, having only ever drunk soju, beer, wine, and makgeolli, this was an intensely strong aroma to me.
I could tell from the smell alone that it was no lightweight.
But who was I? Was I not Sergeant I Gyutae of the Republic of Korea Army Reserve?
I had even once gone head-to-head in a drinking contest with the company admin sergeant during a unit dinner (though I lost).
Bring it on!
As if today were the last day on earth, I poured the liquor into my mouth.
***
“…….”
Sergeant Gates, who had visited Second Lieutenant Grey’s room, was at a complete loss for words.
Roll call was almost due, but seeing no sign of him, Gates had entered—only to find the lieutenant sprawled out on the bare floor in the shape of the character 大.
Judging by his snoring, he was fast asleep. And a thick alcohol smell so strong it could make one’s face scrunch up permeated the room.
Right beside the lieutenant lying on the floor, an empty Scotch bottle was rolling around.
Was this…… truly an officer of the British Empire?
A human being this pathetically ridiculous?
He was so dumbfounded that a sigh was about to escape him.
He had thought the lieutenant had been quiet, but here he was—drunk, missing roll call, and sprawled out flat on the floor.
In an instant, Sergeant Gates cast aside all the doubts he had harbored about Second Lieutenant Grey.
Of course. As if a person could change that easily.
“I’m the idiot for even hoping otherwise. Damn it.”
Well, at least he was just lying there without making a drunken fuss.
There was no shortage of military discipline violations to call him out on, but compared to the accidents he had caused lately, this was something that could be quietly overlooked.
Letting out a sigh that was half relief, half contempt, Sergeant Gates quietly stepped outside.
Second Lieutenant Grey was left as he was, on the floor.
***
At the same time.
Near the German-Belgian border, trucks painted gray-green were moving quietly with their headlights off.
Every truck was packed with heavily armed soldiers.
Their direction was southwest, toward France.
It was the night of May 9, 1940.