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Kang Chul-Gyu wiggled a protruding rock on the slope free. The world had changed. Where there used to be snipers, rifles, and mines, now there were snipers wielding RPG-7s, also known as ‘Allah's magic wand.’
Whizzzz! Whizzzz!
Missiles kept flying toward their position. However, they were no longer coming as fiercely as they had been earlier perhaps because his men had gone into hiding.
It was funny how the world worked, though. To his surprise, after being blasted into the air three times, he landed out of the missile range.
Brushing off his head, Kang Chul-Gyu settled down on the slope as if it were a makeshift fishing chair. Like a wild boar that had just dug up potatoes, his face and body were completely covered in mud. His back and right shoulder tingled, possibly hit by shrapnel, and blood was oozing from all over him.
Pfft.
Brushing his hair with his hand, Kang Chul-Gyu realized that he had clotted blood on his hair and the back of his hand. Fortunately, Kang Chan didn’t have to see him like this.
A missile whizzed out of nowhere. A massive explosion followed, shaking the slope where Kang Chul-Gyu was sitting.
Swoosh, swoosh!
Dust and soil tumbled down below. Their pathetic enemies seemed to know nothing else but how to hold a missile.
Nevertheless, Kang Chul-Gyu decided it was time to show them why the Russian, Chinese, and North Korean special forces feared him and the DMZ team.
While surveying his surroundings, he pressed a button on his radio.
Chk.
"Nam Il-Gyu."
Chk.
"Sunbae-nim! We have two dead and three injured,” Nam Il-Gyu re...
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