Chapter 61

Three stars were pinned to the shoulder epaulet of the man who had just shouted.

He was likely the commander of the Marine Corps stationed on Baengnyeong Island.

Surrounding him were the medical battalion commander, the company commander responsible for the injured soldiers, the battalion commander above him, and numerous other field-grade officers.

“Ah, hello. I’m Ahn Jung-heon, team leader of the Central Rescue Unit.”

It was obvious that leaving them like this would hinder treatment.

So Jung-heon hurriedly stepped forward and blocked their path.

At that, Lieutenant General Kang Dong-hee, who had just shouted, spoke to him.

His expression was full of displeasure.

“I was told the injuries were severe. Shouldn’t they be transported quickly?”

His tone revealed his anxiety.

It wasn’t every day you saw a man with three stars on his chest.

Moreover, the Marine Corps Command on Baengnyeong Island was one of the most critical positions.

It was a role that could even lead to the position of Chief of Naval Operations.

But if the two injured soldiers died here, everything could come crashing down.

Jung-heon gave a dry chuckle and pointed outside.

Swoooosh.

So much for the sea weather being unpredictable—now, it was pouring rain like madness.

Rumble.

Thunder and lightning raged on top of that.

“With the weather like that… how do you expect us to fly a helicopter?”

In truth, Lieutenant General Kang Dong-hee knew it in his head as well.

In this weather, no transport could be operated.

But he was anxious.

Afraid this might be the end of his career.

“You’re with the Central Rescue Unit—shouldn’t you be figuring something out? What’s the point of you even coming here if you’re just going to stand around?”

“…What? You’re asking what the point of coming here was?”

Jung-heon’s bewildered tone made the adjutant and the medical battalion commander beside him tense up.

The man in front of them wasn’t a subordinate—he was in an entirely different chain of command.

Speaking to him so rudely wasn’t appropriate at all.

But General Kang had been the one in power for so long, he failed to recognize such details.

“If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be better if we just handled the transport ourselves? Don’t you agree?”

Everyone knew that wasn’t true.

Especially the medical battalion commander.

He knew all too well that with the helicopters the Marines possessed, there was no way to transport severely wounded soldiers.

If they had tried, those two would surely be cold corpses by now.

Inside that helicopter, no medical action would have been possible.

“You seem a bit worked up… Regardless, transport is impossible right now. Isn’t that right, Captain?”

At Jung-heon’s words, the helicopter captain nodded vigorously.

He already thought it was a miracle they had made it onto the island at all.

And now they were supposed to take off in that weather?

That would basically be a death sentence.

And a meaningless one at that.

“No way. Absolutely impossible.”

“I agree with the captain. Under the current circumstances, transport is not possible.”

“Goddammit.”

Lieutenant General Kang cursed and shook his head.

His anger soon turned toward the medical unit, which had failed to handle even these injuries on its own.

“Lieutenant Colonel Kim! You received commissioned education at Hanguk University Hospital—what the hell have you been doing? You can’t even treat a single injury and now look at this mess!”

Lieutenant Colonel Kim.

That would be Kim Nak-chul, the current medical battalion commander and an internal medicine specialist, who now looked utterly exasperated.

‘Just a… simple injury, he says.’

There’s boldness in ignorance, but this was a bit much.

It felt like every bit of effort he had put in since the incident occurred was being erased.

But what could he do?

He was a soldier.

“I’m sorry. But the injuries are too severe. Treatment is difficult with the facilities in the medical unit.”

“Then what are those doctors doing here?! You said treatment is impossible anyway!”

“Well… originally, they came here for transport… but the weather…”

“And whose side are you on right now? You’re telling me to just let it go because we have no choice?”

The commander was so worked up that his voice boomed throughout the room.

Rain poured outside, and the emergency room was a closed space, so the sound echoed.

Which meant it was incredibly grating.

“Tch, what a damn loudmouth.”

In the end, that line came from Kang-hyuk’s mouth.

Jaewon, who was drawing blood from a freshly volunteered soldier to begin a transfusion, put a hand to his forehead.

‘I was wondering why he hadn’t said anything yet…’

The Kang-hyuk he knew would’ve kicked up a storm the moment the emergency room doors opened.

The fact that he didn’t had been curious—but of course, this was inevitable.

As expected, Lieutenant General Kang’s head turned toward Kang-hyuk.

The endoscope still hadn’t arrived, and Kang-hyuk was merely wiping the wounded soldier’s face with brown [povidone-iodine antiseptic].
(T/N: A solution commonly used for disinfecting wounds or preparing skin before surgery.)

To the untrained eye, it looked like a completely pointless action.

“What, loudmouth? What did you just say?”

He stormed toward Kang-hyuk, pointing at him angrily.

The adjutant, well aware of his hot temper, quickly moved to stop him.

But someone else moved even faster.

Unfortunately, it was Kang-hyuk.

“Who’s making all that noise in the middle of treating a patient?!”

“Noise? Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

There’s nothing quite as ridiculous as a man in uniform asking if you know who he is.

Kang-hyuk wasn’t the type to hold back laughter at that kind of comedy.

Scoffing, he pointed to the name tag on Lieutenant General Kang Dong-hee’s chest.

“Kang Dong-hee, Lieutenant General. Says so right there. You think I’m blind?”

“And even knowing that, you talk to me like this?”

“Hey, soldier boy. Do I look like a soldier to you?”

“…No, I guess not.”

“Then you’re just a guy. A buzz-cut guy.”

“Why you little—!”

Crrrack.

Just then, Captain Lee Kang-haeng returned to the ER pushing the endoscope equipment.

Two nurse officers assisted him.

The endoscope setup included a monitor, camera, various lenses, and cables.

The moment Kang-hyuk saw it, he waved dismissively, as if the conversation with Lieutenant General Kang was over.

“Mister, why don’t you go stand over there and shut your mouth. I’m about to perform surgery, so I’m a little busy.”

“You said nothing could be done here! And yet you—!”

“Me? I never said that.”

Thinking about it carefully, that was true.

The one who had said it was the medical battalion commander.

Once again, Lieutenant General Kang’s gaze turned to Lieutenant Colonel Kim Nak-chul.

Thanks to that, despite having done nothing particularly wrong, Lieutenant Colonel Kim had to start watching his every move.

“Y-yes, that’s correct. With our facilities… it’s still very difficult.”

Lieutenant Colonel Kim Nak-chul hadn’t treated patients directly in a long time, but a specialist was still a specialist.

While Private First Class Kim’s arm injury might have been manageable, in the case of the sergeant who had suffered a head injury, he fully understood just how serious the situation was.

‘[Basilar skull fracture]… even university hospitals struggle with that.’
(T/N: A fracture at the base of the skull, often associated with cerebrospinal fluid leakage and brain trauma. It’s considered very serious and hard to treat.)

So of course it would be impossible at a medical battalion-level facility.

That was just common sense.

Reading the certainty in Lieutenant Colonel Kim Nak-chul’s expression, Lieutenant General Kang Dong-hee’s confidence surged as well, and he shouted:

“See! Our battalion commander says so too!”

“That’s just… the battalion commander. I can do it.”

“And who the hell are you?!”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you!”

“Baek Kang-hyuk, trauma surgeon. And I’m starting to get seriously annoyed, so stop talking and back off. If not, I won’t let it slide.”

As he said that, Kang-hyuk flung off his coat.

He had only thrown a lab coat over his [surgical scrubs] in the first place, so his muscular forearms and tattoos were fully exposed to everyone.

“W-what the hell is with this bastard?”

Lieutenant General Kang was flustered beyond belief—he had never imagined a university hospital doctor would have such things engraved on his body.

Kang-hyuk shot a brief glare at him, then turned toward the endoscope.

“Let’s get this set up already. You’ve got the ENT set here too, right?”

At his words, Captain Lee Jong-ik of the ENT department, who had been holding down Private First Class Kim’s arm from a distance, nodded.

“Yes. We’ve got the [septoplasty set] and the [sinus endoscopy set] ready.”
(T/N: Septoplasty is a surgical procedure to correct a deviated nasal septum; sinus endoscopy refers to a procedure that visually examines the nasal sinuses.)

“Perfect. Hand those over. This endoscope’s… wow, look at that. It’s from Storz?”

Kang-hyuk was already impressed by the unexpectedly high image quality but was even more shocked when he saw the manufacturer’s logo.

‘Storz’—that was one of the top-tier German companies for endoscopic devices.

So high-end, in fact, that even many university hospitals couldn’t afford to keep one.

And yet here it was in a military unit on Baengnyeong Island.

Of course he was surprised.

“Yeah, the equipment’s top of the line.”

Captain Lee Kang-haeng made a joking comment as he watched Kang-hyuk gape.

Now that he thought about it, even the surgical sets provided by the nurse officers were all German-made.

Naturally, Kang-hyuk’s mood lifted considerably.

They say a master never blames his tools.

Still, good tools certainly made the job easier.

“Guess the soldier boy has some skills after all.”

So Kang-hyuk, who had been butting heads with Lieutenant General Kang Dong-hee just moments ago, even threw him a compliment as he picked up the endoscope.

Then, he thrust it directly into the unconscious sergeant’s nose.

“Hmm.”

The monitor began displaying the inner structures of the nose.

Naturally, everyone nearby turned their gaze to the screen.

The endoscope passed the [inferior nasal concha], moving beyond the [middle turbinate].
(T/N: The inferior nasal concha and middle turbinate are structures inside the nasal cavity that help filter and humidify air.)

Suddenly, the screen turned bright red.

“Total mess, as expected.”

Everyone watching the monitor was stunned—except Kang-hyuk.

As if it were perfectly within expectations, he inserted the suction and began gently removing the clots.

Sccccccch.

As the blood was cleared, the ceiling of the nasal cavity came into view.

In other words, the base of the skull.

The [skull base], a critical structure supporting the brain, had multiple fractures.
(T/N: The skull base is the floor of the cranial cavity, separating the brain from other facial structures.)

[Cerebrospinal fluid] was leaking out from the cracks.
(T/N: A clear fluid surrounding the brain and spinal cord; its leakage is a serious condition.)

It was nearly the worst-case scenario.

And yet, Kang-hyuk smiled.

“Good. This much—I can handle even here.”

Only then did Lieutenant Colonel Kim Nak-chul realize that Kang-hyuk was about to attempt something beyond emergency treatment.

‘S-should I try to stop him? What if something goes wrong…?’

Just being in the same place could delay his promotion.

It might sound unreasonable.

But this was the military.

Still, with the commander keeping his mouth shut, he couldn’t bring himself to speak up.

While he hesitated, Kang-hyuk didn’t slow down in the slightest.

“You’re Lee Kang-haeng, right? Wipe down the patient’s thigh.”

“H-his thigh?”

“Yeah. I’ll need it for the reconstruction.”

“Reconstruction…”

Captain Lee trailed off, doubting whether that was even possible here.

But as he watched Kang-hyuk remove minuscule bone fragments with the endoscope—without even a hint of hesitation—he started to think maybe it really was possible.

“Understood.”

“Hurry. I’m going to move fast too.”

“Yes, sir.”

Not knowing what Kang-hyuk meant by ‘move fast,’ Captain Lee nodded anyway.

From afar, Jaewon—who was managing the transfusion—offered a silent eulogy.

‘You’re so screwed…’