IGMB 06

Chapter 06

Entering the Training Camp (1)

Unlike the Nonsan Training Center, the replacement unit I entered was located apart from the main recruit training camp.

So after the physical exam and the official assignment to active duty, we didn’t head straight to the training camp. Instead, we had to ride a bus for about two more hours to reach it.

For some people, those two hours might be precious time.

For others, they could be filled with dread and fear.

If I had to pick a side…

‘Probably the first one.’

At least during the ride, you can relax without worrying about the instructors or drill sergeants breathing down your neck.

One by one, we boarded the buses heading to our assigned training centers.

When I first arrived here a few days ago for the enlistment ceremony, I only carried a few personal belongings.

But now, as I left the replacement unit, my duffel bag was stuffed with issued gear.

Through the bus window, I spotted the instructors and drill sergeants who had overseen us until now standing neatly in a line.

As the bus prepared to depart, the sergeants all snapped to a crisp salute in response to the instructor’s command.

Some of the recruits returned the salute, while a few—apparently still harboring resentment—subtly raised a middle finger for a quiet parting shot.

Me? I felt nothing in particular.

The replacement unit was only the beginning.

‘Guess you could say the tutorial is over.’

The real military life hadn’t even started yet.

Still, many of the recruits around me sighed with relief as though they had already climbed a huge mountain.

Rookies can think that way.

But veterans know better—you prepare for what’s ahead.

Finally, the non-commissioned officer riding up front stepped onto the bus and spoke.

“Attention, everyone.”

“Attention!”

“We’re heading to the recruit training center now, so no talking. Understood?”

“Yes, understood!”

If you don’t want to get chewed out before you even arrive, it’s best to stay quiet.

During the ride, I thought about catching up on the sleep I’d been missing.

‘If only I had a smartphone and earphones, I could listen to some music.’

I’d heard that, before my regression, soldiers were allowed to use smartphones. But when I enlisted the first time—back in the 2008 intake—phones were absolutely forbidden.

It was still the era of CD players and MP3s, so some guys tried to sneak those in and ended up in the guardhouse.

Not me, of course.

But a few of my seniors and peers definitely got caught.

As I reminisced, the occasional glimpses of city scenery outside the window disappeared completely.

Now there was only endless blue sky and lush greenery so vivid it looked healthy just to gaze at it.

The bus wound deeper into the mountains, a place where the word “remote” fit perfectly.

Before long, the entrance to the recruit training center came into view.

[Protecting the Nation, Cradle of Patriots, Invincible Recruit Training Center]

The bold white letters on a dark green background stood out sharply—large enough to read from far away.

They claimed it meant “Protecting the Nation” and “Cradle of Patriots,” but to me it read as:

Welcome to Hell.

The bus stopped briefly at the olive-drab gate for an identity check.

“Loyalty!”

“Loyalty. We’ve brought the new recruits.”

“Understood. You may pass.”

“Okay. Good work.”

The sergeant gave the gate guard a friendly pat on the shoulder before the barricade lifted and we rolled forward.

The first sight that greeted us inside the training grounds was senior recruits already rolling in the dirt of the parade ground.

“Left turn!”

“With movements that slow, how are you supposed to defend the country, huh?!”

“If you can’t pass this today, you’ll be running laps around the field all night. Got it?!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Compared to the basic drills we’d done at the replacement unit, these poor guys looked utterly miserable.

My fellow recruits swallowed hard, already tense.

‘Looks like they’re in the middle of PRI drills.’

Even as someone who’s experienced it before, I hated that training.

Maybe I hated it because I’d been through it.

The bus stopped. The NCO gestured for us to get off.

“Everyone, disembark!”

“Disembark!”

Even in this first encounter with the training center, the recruits instinctively echoed the commands.

So this is how civilians turn into soldiers.

We began lining up in groups of threes and fours.

I quickly scanned the crowd.

Ever since I regressed and re-enlisted, I’d been searching for the comrade I wanted to team up with.

‘He should be around here somewhere.’

I headed toward the 3rd platoon line.

At the training center, your number and barracks are assigned based on where you stand.

Meaning, if you stand next to someone, you’ll likely spend the next five weeks training together.

The best partner of my previous service—the best comrade I’d ever had.

‘Found him!’

Kang Seo-hwan.

When I first enlisted, he and I were together all the way to our main unit.

But in training, we’d been separated. This time, I intended to stick with him from the start.

Being with Seo-hwan would make everything easier.

“Seo-hwan!”

I was so excited to see my old friend again after twenty years that I called his name without thinking.

He turned toward me with a puzzled look.

“Who… are you?”

Right. Of course.

I knew him, but he had no idea who I was.

I quickly scrambled for an excuse.

“Uh… before we got on the bus at the replacement unit, I happened to see your name tag.”

I pointed at the white tag attached to his duffel bag.

He nodded in sudden understanding.

Even I thought it was a pretty smooth cover.

“You’re 21, right?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Most guys enlist after their first year of college—usually at 20, maybe 22 at the oldest. Unless you’re in a teacher’s college or law school, it’s not common to come later. Just an educated guess.”

“Wow, that’s sharp.”

Not sharp—just a good memory.

But I didn’t bother explaining; he wouldn’t understand anyway.

“If it’s okay, want to be my battle buddy?”

“Can we choose that ourselves?”

“Sure. If we stand together, they’ll pair us up.”

Most recruits don’t realize this.

With so many people to process, the staff just assigns numbers in the order we’re lined up, so it’s surprisingly easy to influence.

Just as I predicted, the drill sergeants began seating us row by row and handing out numbers.

Our turn came.

I got number 45. Seo-hwan was 44.

“Forty-four, huh. That feels unlucky.”

He frowned.

“Don’t worry. I heard four is actually a lucky number in the West.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They say it represents perfection—two even numbers coming together. Just superstition, of course.”

“You know stuff like that? You’re pretty smart.”

“Not really. Just have a lot of random trivia.”

After all, I’ve lived twenty years longer than anyone else here.

Naturally, I’ve accumulated more experience and knowledge.

Seo-hwan grinned.

“I like smart people.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not into studying. I’m always impressed by people who are.”

Same Seo-hwan I remembered.

But he had strengths of his own.

One look told you he was solidly built.

He’d been a physical-education major before enlisting, so he was already skilled at anything physical.

Even at our permanent unit, seniors adored him.

That’s why I wanted him as my partner.

“You’ve got plenty of strengths yourself. No need to envy me.”

“Heh. Thanks. I’m lucky to meet someone I click with right from the start.”

He would never realize that this “coincidence” was something I’d carefully planned.

After we received our numbers, we went to the barracks where we’d spend the next five weeks.

It was a bit better than the shabby replacement-unit barracks.

‘Still not exactly top-notch, though.’

The lockers were old.

Mine was especially bad.

The drawer under the clothes rack was so worn that its bottom panel looked ready to fall off with a touch.

‘Great, I drew the short straw.’

I couldn’t help but smile wryly.

I glanced at Seo-hwan.

“How’s your locker?”

“Me? It’s fine.”

His was practically new compared to mine.

If I’d known, I would have stood in the 44 line instead.

Too late to regret it now.

After unpacking, Seo-hwan pointed toward the small TV by the window.

“Hey, you think that thing works?”

“If you’re curious, go try it.”

“Really? Won’t we get in trouble if it turns on?”

“Doubt it.”

He tilted his head, unconvinced.

I motioned for him to hurry and press the button.

Curious, he held the power button down.

But the black screen didn’t change.

He pressed it a few more times—still nothing.

“Is it broken?”

“Not broken. They probably disabled it on purpose.”

“Why would they do that?”

“So we can’t watch TV during training.”

“It’s not like watching TV would start a war with North Korea. What’s the harm?”

“Who knows. Not me.”

If I could fully understand the logic behind the military’s decisions, life would be easier.

But reality is harsh.

The military is an organization where senseless orders appear at any moment, so it’s better not to even try to understand.

That’s my plan this time, too.

Because I know it’s the only way to stay sane.

END