Chapter 17
“Out of my way, slope.”
Chun stepped aside and Private Able Talent leaned in to give an unfriendly shove as he passed.
Their bay had started off in two groups, Chun and everyone else. For the previous two and a half weeks he had been fixing little injuries, mediating fights, and warning them before their drill sergeants arrived.
Gradually, starting with Wrongway, men had moved from the enemy camp to the ally camp. Except for Talent. He could accurately throw a grenade sixty yards, and once he learned Chun held the base record for the two-mile run, he had pushed himself nearly to the point of death to bring the record back to the white man, ‘where it belonged.’ He bragged constantly that he was going to get forty on his range qualification. Once they got to fire their rifles.
Chun had considered doing something to get Talent recycled…that method had worked well on a couple of Talent’s key allies, but he was a superb soldier, so Chun preferred to keep him and win him over, if possible. So, he let the base record stand at 8:08, and threw grenades a respectable fifty yards.
The one time they had been pitted against each other in hand-to-hand combat drills, Chun had considered letting Talent win, but decided the kid would be easier to manage if he knew Chun was better at something. To his credit, once Talent woke up, he demanded a rematch, then another, and another. He never conceded defeat, but the drill sergeants had made him stop after his eighth attempt.
That session had won Chun about one new ally for each time he knocked Talent down, but Talent himself remained convinced that he would win a fight if the drill sergeants wouldn’t interfere. Chun had positioned himself to avoid a physical confrontation in private--there was nothing to be gained and Talent would probably keep coming until Chun killed or injured him.
If I can’t find a way to turn him soon, I’ll have to get rid of him.
Chun finished dressing and went outside to join the morning formation. They stretched, but not properly, did a silly exercise called Jumping Jacks, and then a truck pulled up.
“All right.” Sergeant Aindry stepped up to the truck. “Gentlemen, line up. I want two columns, here and here.” He knife-handed two points behind the truck.
Chun found a spot in line, and Talent shoved him back a place and took the spot in front of him.
“Hey, slope, you know why slope women are so much fun in bed?”
Chun ignored him.
“Because their pussies go side to side.” He laughed and slapped his leg.
Chun frowned. “None of my wives were like that.”
“Private Kang. Are you talking in line?” Sergeant Sand yelled from about two paces away.
“Yes, Drill Sergeant.”
He pulled a note from his pocket. It had the dust bunny taped to it.
He kept that for days. A patient foe is a dangerous foe.
“Take this note to Sergeant Major Calibre, get him to sign it, and bring it back to me,” Sand gave Chun a vicious grin, all teeth and lips, but dead in the eyes. “If you miss this march, you’re out of basic. Move.”
Chun took the note and focused.
No one is on the range right now. I’ll check the armorer’s shop.
He jogged toward the middle of the base, head turning this way and that so he wouldn’t just run by the range master while he was searching.
“The range is the other way, Kang.” Sand yelled after him.
He didn’t order me to change directions.
Chun kept going.
* * *
His intuition was good--Sergeant Major Calibre walked out of the shop just as Chun approached.
“Drill Sergeant Sand ordered me to bring you this note, Sergeant Major.”
Calibre’s eyes focused on the note instantly, and his face hardened.
This must be a pre-arranged signal of some kind.
“You will call me Range Master, or I will stomp the piss out of you, pissant.”
“Yes, Range Master.”
“Do you know why drill sergeants send pissants to me with pieces of paper to sign, Private Pissant?”
For touching their sidearms, but I can’t admit that.
“To punish us, Range Master.”
“To punish you for what, pissant?”
“For talking in line, Range Master.”
“Nothing else comes to mind, Private Pissant?”
“No, Range Master, Sergeant Sand told me to get your signature, and that if I missed today’s march I would be thrown out of basic training.”
Calibre took the note. “Why the fuzz, Private Pissant?”
“Drill Sergeant Sand put the dust bunny in my rifle and failed me for weapon inspection, Range Master. I returned the dust bunny, and it seems he decided to include it on this note.”
Calibre cocked his head and studied the note for a moment. “Are you telling me that Sand put this fuzz in your rifle, so you put it in his pistol?”
“Er… That is not completely inaccurate, Range Master.”
“How the fuck did a drill sergeant let a private get ahold of his pistol?”
“I can be very stealthy, Range Master.”
Calibre produced a pen and signed the note. “Normally I would spend the day smoking your ass and making you sweep out my shop, clean the toilets, change the oil on my car, and any other awful thing I could think of. But you actually put the fuzz in the action of his pistol?”
“Yes, Range Master.” Chun hesitated.
Calibre wrote a short sentence on the note, folded it, and handed it to Chun. “Find Drill Sergeant Sand and deliver this. When you return from your field exercise, you will report his actions to me.”
“Yes, Range Master.”
Chun sprinted back to the barracks in time to see the driver get into the truck. He ran to the door, and the driver rolled the window down.
“Which way did they go, Corporal?”
“You’re back already?” the corporal asked. “Did you get Calibre’s signature?”
“Yes, Corporal.”
“Let me see it.” He held out his hand. Chun passed him the note, and the corporal folded it open, read it, and laughed out loud. “You’re trying to give that to Sergeant Sand?”
“Yes, Corporal.”
“They went that way.” He pointed toward Punter’s Bluff. “The exercise will take place beyond the bluff somewhere.”
“Thank you, Corporal.”
“Don’t thank me, Private. Thank you. Sand was one of my drills in basic. Don’t tell him I helped you find him.”
“I never betray an ally, Corporal,” Chun said. He took the note back, and the driver went around back and issued Chun his pack frame, entrenching tool, training rounds for his rifle, and a piece of paper detailing the items Chun was to take with him.
He thanked the corporal again and trotted inside where he opened his footlocker and went through the list, making certain he had everything. Once his pack was ready, he shouldered it and trotted outside and down the road toward the bluff.
* * *
Chun found them taking a water break about a mile past the bluff. Talent immediately pointed him out to Sergeant Sand, who quick-timed it over to Chun.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Private Kang?”
“Range Master Calibre ordered me to bring you this note, Drill Sergeant.” Chun extended the note, and Sand snatched it from him and folded it open.
“Fuck.”
Sand dropped and started pushing.
Sergeant Aindry cocked his head from twenty meters away and walked over to Chun. “This looks interesting. Sitrep, Private.”
Chun explained the dust bunny, the rifle, and his revenge.
“And Calibre just signed it and sent you back? Let me see that note.” He stooped and picked it up from the ground next to Sand’s hand.
“You fucked up. Give me one hundred,” Aindry read. He flipped the note over a couple of times.
“Sergeant Sand told you if you missed departure, you would fail the field exercise?”
“Yes, Drill Sergeant.”
“What did Sergeant Calibre say, exactly?”
“Find Drill Sergeant Sand and deliver this. When you return from your field exercise, you will report his actions to me,” Chun said.
“Did you read the note, Private?”
“No, Drill Sergeant.”
“So, it could have been another punishment for you? And you would not have known? Why didn’t you read the note, Private Kang?” Aindry asked.
“One hundred,” Sergeant Sand said, and stood up. He looked fresh and ready to continue.
“I did not read the note because it was for Sergeant Sand. If Sergeant Calibre had wanted me to read it, he would have said so.”
“Well,” Aindry said, “now we have a puzzle. You told Kang he couldn’t join us if he missed departure?”
“I did,” Sand said.
“But Sergeant Calibre clearly expects Kang to attend the exercise and report back to him afterward.”
“Fuck,” Sand said.
“Technically this is your call, Sand. What do you want to do?” Aindry crossed his arms.
“What I don’t want to do is piss off Sergeant Major Ethan Calibre. That’s a career stopper,” Sand said. “Fuck. Kang, go join your unit.”
“Yes, Drill Sergeant,” Chun said and trotted away.
Behind him he heard Sergeant Aindry say, “You shouldn’t have included the fuzz.”
“No, shit,” Sand sighed.
* * *
They established camp on the north side of a rise that offered enough room for the other two training platoons that were supposed to join them. Their Drill Sergeants offered a few practical tips on digging foxholes and setting up shelters, but for the most part they were on their own.
Wrongway was platoon leader at the moment, and after Chun whispered a couple of instructions to him, he set up a guard rotation and ordered two squads to scout their perimeter. Chun wasn’t sure what he had done to piss Wrongway off, but his squad leader was Talent.
They made it about four hundred yards out of camp, and Talent vaulted a log and immediately went down screaming. Chun climbed over more carefully. Talent’s calf was speared on a broken limb. Arterial blood pulsed around the wound.
Chun focused his breath and wound a thread into Talent’s breath, then he put a little twist in the part that carried pain. Talent stopped screaming.
“I’m going to lift you off of the limb. It’s going to hurt, and it’s going to bleed, badly,” Chun said. “Don’t worry, though, I know what to do.”
“Do not move that man,” Sergeant Sand said, approaching through the trees.
Chun turned to Sand. “Drill Sergeant, I am a qualified combat medic--”
“Not in this army.”
Chun ground his teeth. “Sergeant, Talent’s artery is cut. It is bleeding around the stick. If we wait for a proper medical team, he will likely die. I can save him, his leg, and his position in basic.”
“Bullshit, Kang. He’s going home. That leg will take weeks to heal, and weeks more to rehabilitate. The army is downsizing--we’re not going to take the time to piece him back together and recycle him.” Sand squatted down next to Talent. “Sorry, soldier, but those are the facts.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“I can have him back on light duty in three days, and full duty in ten days,” Chun said.
“Bullshit,” Sand said.
“Then bet me, Drill Sergeant. If I can do it, you stop picking on me. If I can’t do it, I’ll quit basic,” Chun said.
Sand eyed him up and down. “Talent, what do you think?”
“They really won’t let me finish, Drill Sergeant?”
“No, they won’t.”
“Nobody in my family has failed basic in the last hundred years,” Talent said. “Do it.”
“I’m going to lift him off of the limb now. It’s going to hurt, and it’s going to bleed,” Chun said.
He stood beside Talent, grabbed his belt with one hand, and under the knee with the other, and lifted. Talent screamed, but the limb came out and looked reasonably clean. As he set Talent down, Chun rolled him onto his belly. Blood spurted from the wound.
Chun directed four of the men to hold Talent still, then got a scalpel from his medical kit and opened the wound enough to see inside. He reached in with his thumb and forefinger, found the artery, and pinched it closed above the tear.
“Water.” Someone handed him a canteen, and he washed the wound out, checking carefully for dirt and splinters.
Need to make sure no foreign material is here. Also need some sutures.
He pulled his breath together, then spread it, searching the surrounding forest.
That will do.
“Sergeant, hold this artery,” Chun said. He made sure Sand had a proper grip, then stood.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Sand sounded concerned.
“I need sutures. There is a big spider over there,” Chun said.
He found it about twenty feet away, a massive web between two trees, that spanned a solid fifteen feet across. The spider was perhaps forty feet above the ground, waiting at the edge of its web.
Chun sent a thread of breath to the spider, gently taking over the simple creature. It rappelled out of the tree, and onto Chun’s outstretched hand.
That’s a much better specimen than I have ever had before.
Its leg span was as big as a plate, and the body was black and orange, and nearly the size of Chun’s fist.
He returned to the group and knelt by Talent.
“Oh cool,” Talent said. “That’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen.” The kid was waxy and green, and a sheen of sweat covered his skin. He was putting on a brave face in spite of the danger he was in.
He’s going into shock. Need to hurry.
“This is Fred,” Chun said. “He is going to help me sew your leg up.”
“That’s a female,” Talent said. His head rolled back, and he had some difficulty righting it.
Shock is getting worse. Need to hurry faster.
“Alright,” Chun said, “This is Freddie. I know you haven’t seen a woman in a long time, but you leave her alone.”
Talent laughed, coughed, grimaced, and said, “Don’t make me laugh right now.”
“Needle,” Chun said. Someone put a sewing needle in his hand. Chun focused his breath and softened the steel, then bent the needle in a gentle U shape that would make the stitching easier.
“Whoa,” someone said over his shoulder.
Chun reached over where Freddie was parked on his forearm and got a strand of dragline silk. He threaded it into the needle, and then reached into the wound. He used tiny stitches to bring the edges of the artery back together, gradually reassembling it like a puzzle. He felt like he was moving as fast as he could, but it took forever to repair the blood vessel.
“Okay, Drill Sergeant, let go of it, slowly, and let’s see if it leaks.”
Sand slowly moved his fingers apart, and the artery filled with blood. Chun rinsed the wound again, but it looked like the repair was holding.
Then he stitched the muscle tissue back together, using larger stitches. Last he pulled the skin back together, using a careful under stitch that left a faint line where the wound was, but hid all of the stitches.
“This will be safe to wash in a couple of days,” Chun said, breathing a large sigh. He pointed to his teammates, “You and you, cut two branches about as thick as your wrist and seven feet long. You, go back to camp and get a blanket. You, hold out your hands. Now take Freddie back to her tree. It’s right over there,” he pointed. The kid’s eyes got huge, but he didn’t drop the spider.
Chun told Talent that the repair had gone well, and everything would be fine. Talent promptly relaxed and passed out.
* * *
By the time they got Talent back to camp a proper army medic was waiting. They laid Talent down, and the medic looked at the wound, then questioned Sergeant Sand and Chun.
“Are you a doctor, Private Kang?” his eyes were wide as he examined the injury.
“No, Corporal, but I have combat medic training from my previous life,” Chun said.
“Bullshit,” the medic said. “My dad is a plastic surgeon, and he couldn’t do this.”
“So, it’s a good repair?” Sergeant Aindry sounded almost hopeful.
“Good?” the medic said, “It’s incredible. This is the best stitchwork I’ve ever seen. What material did you use?”
“Spider silk,” Chun said. “Dragline silk from a big orb weaver of some kind.”
The medic pursed his lips. “Spider silk. The hell you say. Well, we use silkworm silk for sutures sometimes. You should let me take him back to the post hospital.”
“Negative,” Sand said. “Kang here claims he can have Talent back on his feet for light duty in three days, and full duty in ten days.”
“Bullshit,” said the medic.
“That’s what I said,” Sand shot a condescending look at Chun, “but if he’s the best surgeon you’ve ever seen, maybe he can do stuff you can’t do.”
“You really think you can do that?” the medic turned to Chun.
“Yes, Corporal.”
“Okay. I’m going to talk to the base surgeon. He’ll probably want to come out and check on things.” He bent and ran a finger down the length of Talent’s wound, then stood. “Amazing.”
* * *
Less than an hour later a major with a medical bag walked out of the trees. He was accompanied by a captain, a sergeant major, and General Park.
“Attention. General Park is in camp.” Sergeant Aindry bellowed. Chun was sitting next to Talent, who was awake and eating.
Chun rose and stood at attention while the officers approached. The major ordered Talent to turn over and knelt to examine his wound. He ran a finger up and down the injury, muttered to himself, then turned to Chun.
“You stitched this up?”
“Yes, Major.”
“Arterial damage?”
“Yes, Major. The limb cut up the length of the vessel for about an inch.”
“You repaired it with spider silk?”
“Yes, Major.”
“Which stitch did you use?”
Chun frowned. “I don’t know how to say it in your language. It would be something like basket edge finishing.”
“Show me.” He held out a pair of handkerchiefs, and then gave Chun a proper suture and needle. Chun stitched the edges of the kerchiefs together using the same tiny, careful stitches. This time was much easier since Talent wasn’t bleeding all over his work.
The major took the kerchiefs from Chun after a couple of minutes and held them up to the sky and stretched them out. “This isn’t the recommended stitch for vascular repair,” he said. “However, it is pretty good, damn good actually, and it would do more harm to try and reopen the wound and replace this work. Are you aware that it is illegal for you to perform a surgery like this, Private?”
“Major?” Sergeant Sand removed his cover and stepped forward.
“What?”
“I approved the procedure, sir. It was our evaluation that without immediate treatment Private Talent would lose his leg, and possibly his life.”
“Well,” the major said, running a hand through the stubble on his head. “That complicates matters.”
“If a qualified training officer or noncom determines that an emergency warrants a deviation in policy, then onsite personnel have the authority to make said deviation,” General Park said. “The man had an arterial bleed?”
“Yes, General,” Sand said.
“That is an emergency,” Park said. “If I recall, it’s even one of the example cases offered for this regulation.”
The major nodded. “I believe you are correct, sir. My recommendation is that we leave this soldier in place. He seems to have received superlative care, and we would only injure him further by interfering. We should also give Private Kang a gentle reprimand for performing a medical procedure he is not technically qualified to perform.”
“So noted,” Park said. “Sergeant Hibbard, will you please file the appropriate reports?”
“Yes, sir. As soon as we return to the office, sir,” said the sergeant who had accompanied Park.
Park turned to Chun. “Private, you are hereby warned to avoid providing medical services to fellow service members until such time as you acquire the proper training and licensure. Of course, if you encounter another genuine emergency, you should act as you have acted today.”
“Yes, General,” Chun said.
So, they approve, but disapprove? That explains yesterday when I saw men taking crates off of a truck and then putting the same crates back on the truck.
The officers walked the camp, inspected the men, and deemed them worthy of the instruction required to pass the next such inspection. After the officers left, Sergeant Aindry smoked the dogshit out of them for embarrassing him in front of the general.
Wrongway assigned Chun and Talent to dig the latrines, which Chun had to do by himself because Talent was his responsibility until Talent’s leg healed.
I thought Wrongway liked me. I may need to take some revenge on him.
* * *
Talent made steady gains recovering from his wound, and Wrongway assigned the worst chores to others. Chun spent guard duty meditating, where he could rest while monitoring his surroundings. They improved their defenses, set regular patrol schedules, mapped their surroundings, and by the final day of the exercise most of the men were feeling overconfident.
Then the enemy attacked.
Simulated combat with powderless training rounds turned out to be a ridiculous exercise in saying ‘bang, bang,’ and then waiting for a Drill Sergeant to decide who died. Chun grew bored after the rules were described and vanished into the forest to search for food. It was ridiculously easy to slip away yet remain close enough to hear should someone call for him.
Their platoon failed to win the exercise, and they were forced to carry the winner’s packs back to base, which meant that Chun carried his ruck, plus Talent’s, plus one that belonged to someone from one of the winning platoons. In his opinion, Field Exercise One was the best basic had to offer.