God of Blackfield

Kang Chan and his men had breakfast around 7:30 am. By 8:20, they were all drinking coffee and enjoying a good smoke. Afterward, they packed their gear and gathered in front of the barracks at 9:20 am.

Each man was issued a grayish-white helmet, uniform, vest, elbow and knee pads, walkie-talkie, rifle, pistols, bayonets, grenades, magazines, and ammunition. They were also supplied with three days’ worth of food, water, and medicines.

Click, click.

They were supposed to walk into the middle of an enemy compound and shoot a target hidden behind layers of troops in the forehead.

To be honest, operations like this had a low chance of success. How many would return alive? Even so, the expressions on the faces of the soldiers were no different than when they shared a cigarette.

It took about six months to become a special forces soldier and get comfortable with the idea of going on a mission—if they could survive that long, at least.

Click, click.

Opening fire during an engagement with the enemy less than twenty meters away was nothing like one would imagine. It was hard to peek out of cover when they were faced with enemies who would fire at random with their heads ducked low—even more so when those bullets hit their fellow soldiers.

Unless they were maniacs with a death wish, enemies who shot like that would quickly hide again.

That was what it was like to engage an enemy right in front of them. One would have a front-row seat to the screams of their allies and the exploding heads, necks, jaws, and shoulders of the enemies.

Special forces had to have the guts to peek out and return fire while watching all of that. They couldn’t be surprised by an enemy that came out of nowhere, and they had to have the reflexes, training, and courage to kill using a rifle, pistol, bayonet, or even their bare hands in a split second of eye contact.

Sharlan’s pride seemed to be bruised by the reversal of Gérard’s deployment order. While climbing into a jeep, he watched on with a stiff expression as the men boarded a truck.

Kang Chan knew that Sharlan would be upset about this. Still, he paid him no mind and just got into the passenger seat of the truck.

Vroom! Vroooom! Clunk! Clunk!

He looked out the window unfazed.

He had been with the crew for quite some time. Perhaps that was why so many of them had gotten through his walls. He had even grown fond of the one whom he’d had to beat up multiple times.

Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!

Kang Chan swayed from side to side as the truck shook.

He had ran, but he had been too late. That was how Gérard got the scar on his cheek. Gérard almost lost his eye as well, but he held up quite well.

Vrooom! Clunk! Clunk!

Kang Chan recalled the moment Gérard, a frightening trigger-happy soldier who would usually never falter, wavering at a crucial moment. Surely, it couldn’t have been because he was afraid of blood.

After some time on the road, the truck followed the jeep into a turn, and the tarmac came into view.

Click. Click.

While they stepped out of the truck and walked toward the plane, the waiting Foreign Legion soldiers and the 9th and 10th special forces units glanced at Kang Chan and his men.

Dayeru, who had a big head; Gérard who had a scar on his cheek; Éiric and Mazani, who knew some of the other soldiers; and the infamous Smithen, who could get beaten up to the brink of death but still refused to change his habits.

Finally, the man who became a special forces soldier and a unit commander the fastest in all of the Foreign Legion’s history—the man who took on three teams of snipers and two hundred enemies with mortars and kept half the squad alive. The God of Blackfield—a living legend—was walking toward the plane.

All of the men here had volunteered for the Foreign Legion, yet they all watched the 11th unit’s commander with respect. The legend of this tanned, lithe Asian with piercing eyes would live long in the history of the Foreign Legion.

The other commanders exchanged a brief greeting with Kang Chan. He was two ranks higher than them, and according to rumors, he used his medals like coupons.

Afterward, Kang Chan turned to Sharlan.

Sharlan nodded, and the men boarded the plane. Kang Chan and his unit were the first to climb aboard.

Having gulped down his nervousness, Dayeru let out his signature laugh.

“Phuhuhu.”

***

The plane had taken off and gained altitude.

Sharlan moved to the front, where the cockpit was, and one of the Foreign Legion soldiers hung a few maps on the cockpit door.

Thruuuuum!

The plane was horribly noisy. Still, Sharlan pointed to a spot on one of the maps and began the briefing. Kang Chan and the other unit commanders in the front could barely hear him.

“The Mangala area is a major insurgent stronghold. It covers a total radius of twelve kilometers.”

Sharlan waved his baton along the border of Mangala.

“This is Point Alpha, a base with medium to heavy weaponry. This is Beta.”

He pointed to the top right of the map.

“This is a residential area for civilians and the rebel families who work within the rebel base. We are calling the training center Charlie and the special training grounds Delta.”

After dividing the map into four sections, Sharlan tapped his baton on Beta.

“Absala is confirmed to be here.”

He looked at a soldier, who then quickly flipped the map over.

“This is a satellite image of Beta. Keep the roads and how they are connected in mind. You will all be given a copy of this map later.”

Sharlan traced a path through Beta, then struck a spot on the map.

“This is where Absala will be staying for the next three days. Note how large the building is compared to those around it.”

Thruuuuuum!

The plane roared, seemingly expressing surprise on behalf of the commanders and their men. Just getting to Abasala’s compound alone already looked difficult

“The Ninth will wait at the entrance, and the Tenth and Eleventh will go in together. While the Tenth clears an escape route, the Eleventh will go in and take out Absala.”

It was such a simple and ignorant plan that Kang Chan wondered if the higher-ups were trying to kill them all.

“Once we land, we’ll transfer to a truck and head to the outskirts of Mangala. ETA is 0400 hours. Radio call names are Bantu for the Ninth, Pygmy for the Tenth, and Zulu for the Eleventh. Any questions?”

The two unit leaders glanced at Kang Chan. He didn’t have any questions.

Sharlan nodded, and the man standing on the other side of the map handed maps to Kang Chan and the two commanders.

Nothing more had to be said.

Kang Chan joined his men, and as was his custom, he got some sleep to prepare for the battle ahead.

Eventually, he woke up to twisting metal and the plane jolting.

Creeeak! Screeeech! Screech! Roooooar!

It was such a rough flight that as soon as he woke up, Kang Chan wondered if they were all about to die in a plane crash.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Rooooooar! Screech! Screeeech!

The plane had such a rough landing that it practically tumbled down the runway.

Whooooooosh!

After lurching wildly from side to side, it finally slowed down.

Kang Chan wondered if the winds were strong.

When the plane came to a complete stop and the rear door opened, they were met with a typhoon-like gust of wind that lifted all the dirt and blew it out into the world.

Swoooooh!

Click! Click!

It was hard to keep their eyes open. Moreover, breathing brought a handful of dirt into their noses and throats.

Kang Chan saluted Sharlan and went straight to the three trucks ahead of them. Bantu moved out first, followed by Pygmy and then Zulu.

Swoosh! Swiiiiiiish!

Every time the wind picked up, the truck’s windows were pelted with snow-like dust.

The men covered their noses and mouths with bandanas.

The higher-ups likely already knew that the winds would be this strong while they were planning this operation. If so, then they either didn’t want to miss this golden opportunity or they were sending Kang Chan and the other soldiers out on a reckless gamble.

Creak! Drk drk drk! Creak! Drk drk drk!

Kang Chan wanted to tell the driver to stop the damn wipers, but they couldn’t sacrifice safety just so they wouldn’t have to listen to noises that sounded like a knife slicing through glass.

Whooosh!

The truck shook and swayed every time the wind roared.

Could Kang Chan really do something else for a living? Could he, Dayeru, and Gérard open up a cool cafe on a beach with a beautiful sunset?

Kang Chan shook his head.

He could already see Dayeru doing his signature laugh while gripping a customer’s head and Gérard drawing all the female customers’ attention while he beat up a rude customer like he was Smithen.

Humans really did adapt to anything.

Swiiiiish!

Despite the harsh winds and the dust everywhere, Kang Chan still wished he had a cigarette.

After about two hours on the road, the three trucks stopped one after the other.

“We’ll be waiting ten minutes here. Change your radios’ frequencies to three.”

Kang Chan patted the driver on the shoulder and then got out. The others had already gotten out of the trucks and were walking forward.

They would travel together to their primary objective.

“Bantu! Find us a place to eat dinner and rest,” Kang Chan instructed.

“Oui.”

As the soldiers moved out, the trucks entered a mountain in the order that they had arrived.

Psssss! Pssss!

The winds sounded different in the mountains. The trees also filtered out the dust, making it easier to walk.

After an hour of walking, Bantu stopped walking and turned to Pygmy and Zulu.

“That should be a viable spot.”

“Set up four perimeters. I want two men on each side and the snipers up there. We’ll be taking forty-minute shifts.”

As Kang Chan instructed, Bantu stood guard first, and the rest of the men rested.

“Whew!”

They were in a caved-in hole.

As Kang Chan crouched against the wall, the wind blew across the top of his helmet, making him feel quite cozy. The murky sky was now turning gray and dark.

A group of 13th Regiment special forces soldiers were all crouched in the middle of the mountain.

Swooooosh! Swiiiiiiish!

Windblown dust rushed over their heads, the weapons slung on their shoulders, and everything in sight. It took only ten minutes for them to be so completely covered in dust that it was as if they were a part of the mountain. Their eyes appeared redder than usual as well.

The wind whistled incessantly.

Kang Chan curled up in a ball and slept for an hour. He had to prepare as best as he could for what was to come.

By the time he woke up, the wind had calmed down a bit. It just slowed down, though—it didn’t stop.e

Even when covered in dust, even if their eyes were as red as Dracula’s, humans still had to eat to stay alive and strong.

Kang Chan and the others took out C-rations and tore a small opening at the top. They then used their fingers or put the packages to their mouths to eat the biscuits and chocolates.

If they wallowed in self-pity over something like this, there would be no end. It was much more positive to think about getting out alive—about sitting at the table in Kilima and joking around again.

Kang Chan also hoped that Absala would be waiting for them on the veranda to stretch out in the warm sun when they got there.

After a quick dinner, the soldiers switched shifts.

Kang Chan, Éiric, Mazani, and Dayeru formed pairs with the other men. Meanwhile, Montechelle headed up to trade places with Pygmy’s sniper.

Unlike Dayeru, who had his rifle in front, Gérard slung his rifle on his right side as if to mimic Kang Chan.

Even now, he remained behind Kang Chan. This was what Kang Chan had trained him for the last three days.

Swish! Thud! Pat! Swiiiish!

The damn wind sent small rocks flying and hitting their helmets.

Time passed as Kang Chan kept a watchful gaze on his surroundings. Only his eyes were peeking out between his bandana and helmet.

He wished he could have a cigarette and a cup of coffee right about now.