Chapter 147: Episode 8: The Returning Battle

Even if they resembled the Tang dynasty’s military, their army’s discipline was all over the place.

The four began their meeting with a loud conversation, leaving their posts. The guards on post took out a large piece of paper from their breast pockets.

“Ha, my f****** God!” Black Mamba laughed in disbelief once more.

He had thought they were changing shifts, but they were exchanging naked pictures of women, ripped out of a penthouse magazine. The next shift took it. It was some tearful display of camaraderie.

There was no need to watch them any longer. Black Mamba picked up four rocks the size of a chestnut bur.

Whisk—

Whisk—

Rocks flew in a row. The after-effects of the rocks were worse than bullets.

The moment those hard rocks came into contact with their skulls, it poured on their stored momentum. The four guerrillas weren’t able to scream due to their crushed skulls.

Four stiff standing corpses fell to the ground all at once. It was the benevolence of the Angel of Death by administering painless death, which was unavoidable as long as the soldier wore his uniform.

Black Mamba began to approach the rear boma after getting rid of the guards with ease. The boma buried underground made it impossible to snipe at. Two others were hiding in the boma as well. The cover of the boma was camouflaged in branches and vines, making it hard to notice even when it was right in front of one’s nose.

Approaching it in silence, Black Mamba flipped the cover open.

“U-seo ya-hu?”[1]

When the gun was shoved in their faces against the sudden light, the soldiers in hiding screamed in surprise.

“Ne-oo-ttu karsh!”[2]

Those were one of the few Arabic phrases Black Mamba had learned.

The two black men stared at the gun barrel with blank expressions. Black Mamba poked their chests with it. Flinching in surprise, the two guards crawled out of the boma.

Crack—

Crack—

The two black men fell unconscious when the butt of the gun crashed against their temples.

“Lackey, are you done?”

“Sure, I did it quietly.”

“Then move to the first station.”

“Got it.”

After a moment, Sun WooHyun appeared, waving his hand.

There was a white woman’s naked spread in one of his hands. One of his ears was drenched in blood.

“Why did you bring that?”

“I’m still a young man. This is a treasure that can’t be bought with money.”

“Ha, as if!”

Black Mamba grabbed the back of his neck.

“Did you kill those guards with rocks?”

“Bullets are a waste on them.”

Sun WooHyun’s heart shivered. He couldn’t believe it, even as he witnessed the scene with his own eyes. There were corpses with broken skulls and rocks splattered in blood.

Once again, he felt that the young mercenary before him was the Angel of Death. Black Mamba showed no mercy towards those he considered his enemies. Sun WooHyun couldn’t be fooled by his usual countenance, which was pure and cared about life.

“Lackey!”

“Ah, my God. What is it?”

“You know how to speak their language, right?”

“That’s normal. I’ve been rolling around with the blackeys for five years.”

“Check their numbers and equipment.”

“That’s my speciality. I’ll figure it out easily.”

Sun WooHyun grabbed the pinky of the guerrilla who had fainted and pushed it back towards his wrist without hesitance.

Crack—

White bones ripped out of its skin and poked out, with the rip of its joints.

“Guuuh!”

The fainted guerrilla woke up, shouting and thrashing about. Sun WooHyun’s firm hand grabbed the captive’s maxilla.

Shh—

Sun WooHyun placed a finger on his lips and slapped the man’s cheeks without hesitation. Body language worked all the time.

The guerilla, who had his mouth torn and nose bled, immediately closed his mouth. When Sun WooHyun grabbed the guerrilla’s fingers once more, he paled and began to move his mouth at the speed of light.

“There are 760 people in total. There are 460 left at the base, and he says the rest moved to Koro Taro to reinforce the first army. There are six watch points at the outer border, four machine gun bases, a mortar, and field artillery.”

“Damn it, a field artillery?”

Black Mamba frowned. It was obvious Gaddafi had gifted it. He was a b*stard who possessed greed for surrounding lands, after building his wealth on the oil business. A large-caliber field artillery was a threat, even for him.

“Are there any other units around?”

“None.”

“Figure out their number of firearms.”

Sun WooHyun shook his head after breaking three more fingers.

“There’s nothing a lower-ranking one would know.”

Sun WooHyun dragged another guerrilla over, who had been awake. The guerrilla began talking even before his finger was cracked.

“There are six 62 mm mine throwers, four 82 mm, and two 85 mm field artillery. If it was the Soviet 85 mm field artillery, it should be the BC-3 tank cannon. It can be used as a howitzer too. It’s difficult when this is working. The shell’s over 15 kilograms. It was an old thing that had been used during WWII, but the northern Vietnamese army had used it during the Vietnam war. Let’s just say there are a lot of machine guns.”

“You know it well.”

“Sure, I know Soviet weapons.”

There wasn’t any more information to gain.

“Send them.”

Black Mamba nodded.

Schink—

White light flashed. The captives’ necks were cut with Sun WooHyun’s knife.

Breaking fingers and cutting their Adam’s apple was a technique Black Mamba used often. Most special forces used similar methods. They had evolved their torture and killing methods based on medical knowledge.

Black Mamba and Sun WooHyun went around the forest after getting rid of all the posts to learn about the forest’s terrain and environment. They were analyzing the battlefield. The more they prepared, the higher the possibility of survival.

Sun WooHyun’s eyes flashed. The forest had dried from drought and there were several dead trees. They could make a FROLINAT roast by luring them into the forest and throwing soy grenades at them.

Sun WooHyun didn’t have an iota of thought to fight directly against the hundreds of guerrillas.

“Wakil, how about fire?”

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“We can’t do crazy things like Zhuge Liang.”

Black Mamba licked his lips. Attacking by fire was tempting advice, but it was an impossible plan to execute.

If the Battle of Red Cliffs had been a historical fact, then JoJo’s army would have been stationed near the red river’s Ho-Book fortress, north of the Jang river. That was a place with a high populace.

Thoughtless people praised the Battle of Red Cliffs, but who could reward the innocent lives that burned to death from the fire?

Who were they fighting for? What were they fighting for?

There was nothing an armed soldier could say about one’s death, but the locals who lived relying on the forest were innocent.

Sacrificing innocent lives for his own convenience was truly the act of Kanma. The Dombrey forest was isolated from the southern Boruku and Bata’s northern lands, set apart by barren lands. Burning such a precious forest only made him a real devil.

To win, many acted without consideration for others in history, but he was just a mercenary. He was not a devil but a mercenary who killed without choice.

Black Mamba looked into his Dragunov’s viewfinder once more.

There were two magazines in his pocket, six in holding, and four in his bag. 12, 20-round magazines made 240 bullets.

It was a substantial number of real bullets for a sniper to have. The reality was that there were more guerrillas than the number of bullets he possessed. There were 600 rounds of wrapped-up backup bullets in his backpack, but there wouldn’t be enough time to insert them amid battle.

As always, Black Mamba didn’t consider the number of bullets.

He would end up using his Pamus once they were lured into the forest. There were 10 Pamus 30-bullet packs in his spare bag. That was enough. Once he ran out of bullets, he could always use the enemy’s weapon. Even a rock would turn into a weapon in his hands.

“Let’s go sweat it out.”

Black Mamba slung the Dragunov over his shoulder and stood. Sun WooHyun was surprised.

“Wait a sec. Did you think about attacking with fire?”

“We can’t use fire. If it spreads to the northern forest, hundreds of locals will die without time to escape.”

“Is that the southern Joseon way of democracy?”

“It’s a human’s moral.”

“What’s the point of worrying about locals you haven’t even seen?”

Sun WooHyun was unable to give up on the fire plan.

Black Mamba looked at Sun WooHyun in silence.

A commie was a commie for a reason. The very people who shoved hundreds of their ethnicity to death by 6.25, were communists. Sun WooHyun, too, didn’t care about the many locals who’d burn to death.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Lackey, if you want to come with me, you should give up on the Lenin ideal that allows you to use any means for an end. There’s nothing in the human dictionary that says you can use any means to an end.”

“Fine.”

Whatever the boss said, went. It didn’t reach Sun WooHyun deeply, but he agreed.

“Why are you trying to attack during the day when we haven’t even finished patrolling?

“We’re done with patrolling. If we keep stalling, our tails will be revealed to Goukouni’s army. We’re going for a frontal breakthrough.”

“A frontal breakthrough, right now!”

Sun WooHyun’s mouth dropped open.

Two people attacking an enemy’s camp equipped with heavy weapons in broad daylight?

Declaring Black Mamba’s madness was at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it back down.

Assassination or attacking by fire would’ve given success a higher possibility, but a frontal attack was like asking for death. It was worth freaking out when the plan was similar to not having a plan.

“Look here. There’s over a regiment in numbers left at headquarters. You aren’t mad, are you?”

“If you have determination and ability, 400 or 500 are nothing but numbers. You’ll live if you want to die and die if you want to live.”

“They’re b*stards equipped with field artillery. Let’s just assassinate them during the night. The other mercenaries are sleeping like the dead, so there’s no reason to rush so much.”

Black Mamba glared.

“A lackey doesn’t need a mouth and only their ears to listen. Are you scared of a few hundred bumbling guerrillas? Aren’t you ashamed of your nickname, Namir?” He shouted and left into the forest without turning back.

Sun WooHyun clicked his tongue.

“Tsk, his ki’s fierce when he gets mad. I’m no monster like Wakil.”

It was said that the innocent would be struck by lightning when standing next to a sinner, now he was about to cross Styx river.

“Wakil, Wakil, hold on a moment.”

Black Mamba, ways ahead and forging on, didn’t reply.

“Ai, s***! I’ll die either way. I’ll go crazy too.”

Sun WooHyun followed, giving up.

His blocked sight suddenly cleared up. Black Mamba raised his hand. Sun WooHyun, who was following him, lowered his body.

A large wadi blocked the path between Black Mamba and the north-eastern command post. It was the marks of a river which had flowed way back. It was a natural moat of about 200 meters in width. The naturally defensive wadi had to be the reason why they placed the command post in that location.

“How neat.”

Both sides of the valley had been cleaned. There was no way to go around it. It was over 400 meters towards the command post from where they were hiding. It was an astounding defence ground.

Sun WooHyun began to complain after observing through his binoculars.

“This isn’t good. I can see four field artillery, three machine-gun camps, and seventeen tents, just from here.”

“I can see someone, a lieutenant colonel. It looks like they’re beginning to cater.”

For Black Mamba, who had superior eyes, 400 meters was right before him. There was no need for binoculars.

It was about the same size as the Third Army’s command post in Toko Toom. No, there were more tents. There were rows of tents made with raised wooden walls and straw roofs.

From its size, it could house over 1,000 people. There were three Jeep cars, 20 bikes, and he found 10 Camels at the side of a building. Machine guns were lined to the wooden fence.

“Huh!”

Sun WooHyun breathed in sharply.

“Damn it. There’s a tank. Look behind the tent at your 11 O’clock.”

“Hm, I can see the gun barrel and road marks. By the size of the barrel, is it a T-34?”

“That’s right. It’s an old one with a 76.2 mm smoothbore and a 7.62 mm DT machine gun.”

“It flowed down here since the Russians made them in tens of thousands. How irritating.”

Black Mamba was conflicted. If the tank came after them with a smoothbore, it would become annoying. Even if it was an antique, it could speed to 40 kilometers per hour on off-road. It was as threatening as two machine guns.

“It could be just a display model.”

“What are you saying?”

“The Soviets gave away their antique tanks to third world countries after the production ended. There’s not enough spare parts or bullets since too much time has passed, so they usually put them up as threatening displays.”

“I guess we’ll figure out.”

[1] “Who is it?”

[2] “Come out silently!”

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