IGMB 16

Chapter 16

Zeroing (1)

There are two words I’ve used more than any others since my first enlistment—and again after I re-enlisting recently.

The first is damn.
The second is hell.

Today, after barely surviving another round of hellish PRI drills, we dragged our exhausted bodies back to the barracks.

Even the brush of my combat pants against my scraped knees made me want to scream.

“Damn it! Hurts like hell!”

There it was again—the army’s most common word.
You can’t help but curse in the military, even if you try not to.

Even Seo-hwan, the athletic ace from the physical-education college, looked wrecked today. He sprawled out on the barracks floor, not caring if the drill sergeant walked in.

“I don’t even have the strength to lift a spoon… Can’t they just let us skip dinner and crash?”

“As if the army would allow that.”

Meals are mandatory.
Well, you can skip them—but only after you’re a sergeant.
By then you can fake the dinner roll call, slip back to the barracks, and eat cup noodles or PX snacks in peace.

But getting to sergeant? Brutal.
Just the basic training here at boot camp feels like death.

When will I ever make sergeant?

The goal suddenly felt impossibly far.
They say “even if you wear it upside-down, the Ministry of Defense clock keeps ticking,” but no one ever said it ticks fast. All you can do is endure.

“Hey, is tomorrow the zeroing shoot? By the way, Geum-seong, shooting is shooting—but what’s this ‘zeroing’ about?”

“It’s literally adjusting the rifle to zero. Nothing fancy.”

“Oh, that’s it? I thought there was some hidden advanced technique.”

“Don’t expect much from the army. You’ll just be disappointed.”

That was a lesson I’d already learned.
And disappointment isn’t limited to the rank-and-file. Some company commanders are professional disappointments themselves.
So in the military, the smartest thing is to keep life simple.

Maybe because we’d started talking about zeroing, a sudden ding! notification rang in my head.

“Hold up.”

“Where you going?”

“Bathroom.”

“Roll call for dinner is soon.”

“Won’t be long.”

Something more urgent than dinner had popped up.

In a stall I opened my quest window. Just as I expected, a new quest had appeared—though with a catch.

[New Quest Created]
Clear tomorrow’s zeroing shoot on the first attempt.
Reward: 7,000,000 won will be added to your total.

You’ve got to be kidding.

That was a tough one.
My issued rifle hadn’t even had its front sight post properly adjusted yet. Zeroing is supposed to set that alignment.

Which meant my only option was to hope this gun somehow already matched me.
A lot would depend on luck.

Still, a quest is a quest—always worth trying.
Failure wouldn’t subtract from my accumulated money anyway.

I was just stepping out of the bathroom when I ran into Drill Sergeant Park Gil-yeong.

“Didn’t you hear it’s dinner roll-call time?”

“Trainee No. 45, Lee Geum-seong. Sorry, I’ll head there right away.”

“You weren’t sneaking a smoke in there, were you?”

“No, sergeant. I don’t smoke.”

At that, he nodded and moved on.
He had good reason to be sensitive about cigarettes—someone in the previous intake had hidden some in the bathroom, and the whole group got dragged out at dawn for collective punishment.

The army really is a strange place.

They hammer in the “no personal items” rule, but some recruits still try to smuggle things in. Society isn’t full of normal people, and those same people get drafted. Of course you’ll see weird behavior here.

Wait. Back in my first boot camp years ago, wasn’t there some crazy guy like that too?

I remembered a lunatic who got us all punished with endless drills on the parade ground—but not exactly why.
Memory isn’t a computer; I can’t just search and retrieve every data point.
And it’s been twenty years since my first service. I recall most of it, but not every single incident.

Whatever. Dinner first. It’ll come back eventually.

A day later, zeroing day finally arrived.

I’d done it countless times before, but today it meant more: seven million won was on the line.

Clear it in one go and that sweet cash is mine.

But before we could shoot, we had to repeat yesterday’s PRI drills.

“Two-fifty burpees!”

Yesterday we’d rolled on asphalt; today we rolled in the dirt beneath the range.
Rocks stabbed elbows, knees, thighs—everywhere.

Still, thanks to yesterday’s long session, the pain wasn’t as shocking.
Human adaptability is scary.

After the drills:

“Next squad up,” the sergeant ordered.

“Yessir. Squad Seven, on your feet!”

“Up!”

Our turn. Seo-hwan, I, and the others grabbed our K2 rifles and headed to the ammo chief.

“Repeat the range safety rules, then wait to enter.”

“Yes, understood—”

Before he finished,
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Deafening shots thundered from the range.

Seo-hwan clapped his hands over his ears.
“Damn! What the hell was that?!”

“What do you think? Gunfire.”

“That loud? Seriously? In movies it never sounds like this!”

“Movies are fake. Reality’s different.”

I’d heard it plenty before, so I barely flinched, but the other recruits—hearing real gunfire for the first time—visibly tensed.

Yeah, I was like that once.

The ammo chief smirked.
“Scared?”

“N-no, sir!”

“You’ll get earplugs before you shoot. Just follow instructions.”

We finished the safety recitation.
When the sixth squad finished, our turn came.

“Squad Seven, enter!”

Each of us shouted our lane number as we filed in.
I got lane ten, the far end.

The company commander barked through a loudspeaker.
“Bolt to the rear and lock!”
“Bolt to the rear and lock!”
“Selector on safe!”
“Selector on safe!”

Then to the instructors:
“Distribute magazines.”

My instructor, Sergeant Park, handed me a loaded magazine.
It felt cold and heavy in my hand.

Can’t believe I’m holding live rounds again after all these years.

“Load magazine!”
“Load magazine!”
“Release bolt!”
“Release bolt!”

Clack!
The metallic slam sharpened my focus.

We switched to semi-auto and waited.
Then the order came:
“Shooters, fire when ready.”
“Fire when ready!”

No one pulled the trigger. Fear held them back.

Guess the veteran has to go first.

I squeezed off a round—
—and instantly regretted it.

Right, the quest!

I needed to pass without any sight adjustments.
I should have aimed more carefully.

But it wasn’t too late.
I concentrated, recalling the feel of that first shot.
The target was distant; I couldn’t see where it hit.

Go by instinct.

I fired again. Others followed my lead.
I focused hard on the final shot.

Zeroing gives you three groups of three rounds—nine shots total.
If the bullet holes cluster tightly, you pass without a second round of sighting.
If not, you must adjust the sights and shoot again—failing the quest.

When all nine shots were done, we left our rifles and went forward to check the targets.

Heart pounding, I looked—
Yes!

A clean, tight group.

I brought the target to the ammo chief. He circled it.
“Number 45, pass.”

“Thank you!”

Quest complete.
Now I just had to wait for everyone else to finish.

But exactly an hour later, my relief evaporated.

As the last recruits packed up to head back to boot camp, the ammo chief suddenly shouted.

The company commander asked, “What’s wrong?”

“C-Commander! We—we have a serious problem!”

A chill crept up my spine at the words serious problem.

“A… a shell casing is missing!”