Chapter 14
PRI (2)
Weekends in boot camp were, as always, the worst of the worst.
If anyone ever wants to know what it feels like to “rest” without actually resting, I’d tell them to spend a weekend here. That curiosity would be gone in a flash.
Saturday passed, and on Sunday morning we gathered on the drill field for our first on-base religious service.
Instructor Park Gil-young shouted from the platform:
“Anyone for the Christian service to the right! Catholics to the left! Buddhists stay in the center. Move!”
“Move!”
We split up according to our choices.
Seohwan nudged me.
“Geumseong, where are you going?”
No hesitation. “Catholic.”
“What? Did you go to church before? You don’t look the type.”
“Nope. I’m not religious.”
“Oh, so you just picked one at random because we have to choose.”
“That’s part of it.”
There was, in fact, an important reason I picked Catholicism.
Before explaining, I asked, “Where are you heading?”
“Me? I guess Christianity. Just seems easy.”
“You’re not religious either, right?”
“Yeah. Except for a couple of Christmas events as a kid, I’ve got nothing to do with religion.”
“Then come with me to the Catholic service.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
I couldn’t be bothered to give a long explanation.
Seohwan simply agreed. Whether church or cathedral, it was all the same to him.
We joined the line of recruits heading for the Catholic service. Instructor Joo Yong-hyuk was assigned to guide us.
“Company, forward—march!”
The Catholic chapel was right next to the drill field, a very short walk compared to the others.
Seohwan eyed me. “Don’t tell me you picked Catholic just because it’s closer.”
“You think I’m that simple?”
Besides, all the services were inside the base—distance hardly mattered.
But in other ways, the differences were big.
Inside the chapel we filled the seats, and the service began.
I knew almost nothing about Catholicism; I’d only been to a few services during my earlier time in the army. But plenty of other recruits were just as new. The service was clearly designed with beginners in mind, and—most importantly—it was far better than a lecture from the battalion commander.
Because it was interactive, we barely had time to get drowsy.
Eventually came the highlight.
“For your hard work,” the priest said, “we’ve brought some snacks. Eat and keep up your strength.”
Chaplains carried in boxes and began handing them out.
The moment we saw what it was, Seohwan’s face changed.
“Wait… is this… a hamburger?”
“And a cola,” I added.
Psssh!
The hiss of carbonation was music to my ears.
“Wow, we actually get hamburgers in the army!”
“Told you we should come here.”
“Hold on—different services give different food?”
“Yep. Christians and Buddhists get Choco Pies or something like that.”
I didn’t remember exactly, just that Catholic service was by far the best.
That’s why I chose it.
That hamburger was so good that even twenty years later I still remember it—ridiculous, really.
Back in the barracks, our friends who’d gone to other services asked right away,
“What did the Catholics get?”
“We got Choco Pie and a drink,” they said, looking satisfied.
Seohwan and I exchanged glances and grinned.
“Hamburgers,” we said.
“What? Seriously?”
“They gave out hamburgers?!”
“Man, if I’d known, I’d have gone Catholic too!”
Exactly as I expected—they were full of regret.
I knew why the Catholic service was so lavish: the battalion commander himself was Catholic. That meant plenty of support. Otherwise there’s no way we’d be getting burgers and cola.
Now that everyone knew, I guessed most of this class would flock to Catholic services next time.
The first weekend at boot camp ended, and Monday morning arrived.
We woke at 6 a.m., dragging heavy bodies to the drill field.
No matter how long I’m here, I’ll never get used to waking up this early.
Physical discomfort is tolerable; it’s the dawn wake-up that really grinds you down.
In uniform, we formed ranks. The communications sergeant on duty called out,
“Everyone sleep well?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Any patients overnight? Hands up.”
We glanced around. Everyone knew the truth: even if you were sick, raising your hand wouldn’t get you much help.
No one moved.
“No patients?”
“None, sir!”
“Good. Let’s begin morning roll call.”
Music for the national calisthenics routine began.
By now we all followed the moves with ease.
After roll call came the usual morning run.
“Everyone remove your tops. Go!”
“Go!”
The winter air hit bare skin and I shivered.
Even coming back from the future doesn’t grant special powers.
All I’ve gained is a younger body and knowledge of the next twenty years. No super strength, no monster-slaying skills.
In short: winter is still cold.
But after a long run around the training ground, my body finally warmed.
From the platform, the ammunition sergeant announced,
“Starting today we begin live-fire training. Be ready!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Roll call dismissed. Back to the barracks, wash up, and be ready for breakfast.”
“Yes, sir!”
The thought of firing practice already gave me a headache.
Seohwan, of course, was excited.
“Never shot a gun before. Wonder what it’s like? I read online it’s really loud. Might be fun.”
“Fun, my foot. Just brace yourself and endure it.”
“Isn’t it just lying down and pulling the trigger?”
His question made me recall my younger self, twenty years ago.
I’d thought the same—and been very wrong.
To squeeze that trigger even once, you shed sweat, blood, and tears.
Some recruits clearly already knew the notorious reputation of the Preliminary Rifle Instruction—known as P-R-I, or as we joked, P for Pain, R for Ripped skin, I for I’m grinding my teeth.
Back in the barracks, a few started wrapping thick socks around their elbows like makeshift pads.
“This should protect our elbows and knees, right?”
“Smart idea!”
“I may be bad at studying, but I’m great at little tricks.”
From experience, I knew it wouldn’t help.
PRI drills require endless repetitions of prone-fire and sitting-fire positions directly on the hard ground.
Elbows and knees inevitably get scraped, and those sock pads will just slip down as you move.
I’d once thought such tricks were “perfect” too—until the army proved otherwise.
There was another trap as well.
Seohwan pointed to them. “Should we do that too?”
“No need.”
“What if we suffer while they’re protected?”
“You’ll see.”
I knew the real catch: it’s better to go unprepared.
Despite his doubtful look, Seohwan followed my advice.
Soon we assembled on the drill field for PRI training.
The instructor glared at us.
“Before we start, I’ll check for anyone trying to cheat. If I find anything, that recruit gets demerits.”
Silent groans rippled through the group.
That was the trap I’d been talking about.
