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[Translator - Tangrine ]
[Proofreader - Seeker ]
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Chapter 5 - The Beginning of Military Life (4)
Many new officers believed that as long as they could keep the senior soldiers in check, they would have full control over their platoon.
This was what they were taught at the academy.
That belief was nothing more than a naive illusion in real life.
No matter how hard an officer tried to establish authority.
They could never surpass the bonds formed among soldiers who spent 24 hours a day together.
An officer's competence or incompetence was determined by how willingly their soldiers followed their orders.
To achieve that, they needed to know when to use both the carrot and the stick.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t something taught in military academies.
It was something only experience could teach.
That was why rookie officers were often ignored or looked down upon by their soldiers.
As a result, upon rising in ranks those officers became strict commanders.
This became a vicious cycle but it wasn’t something that a single individual could change.
It was simply an unavoidable characteristic of the military system itself.
"Hehe, I will drink it well."
As the beers arrived, the squad leaders hesitated.
Sergeant Hamilton who had nothing left to fear clinked his mug against Clyden’s.
A crisp clank echoed through the air and two downed their drinks in one go.
Seeing this, others raised their glasses, sipping cautiously as if savoring a fine wine.
Clyden finished his beer in one gulp and frowned in disappointment.
"What the hell is this? You all drinking like noble ladies at a wine tasting?"
"Well… it's been a while, sir..."
"Look, I’m a soldier too. I’m not saying we shouldn’t drink too much, but at least drink enough to feel a good buzz. You know your limits, right?"
"Sir… Does that rule apply to me too?"
Hamilton glanced at his empty glass.
"Since when do guys on their final stretch of service worry about rules? Just drink up and enjoy yourself."
"Hahaha! Sir, you’re a good officer."
Hamilton eagerly ordered another round.
Clyden continued drinking with his men, engaging in casual conversation.
After some time, they began opening up, they told him about the general atmosphere of the platoon and their bond with the platoon members.
Clyden started to get a clearer picture of the problem soldiers in the unit, as well as the strengths and weaknesses of each squad member.
Just as their faces began to flush from the alcohol, Clyden scanned the room before speaking in a hushed tone.
There was still one critical topic left to discuss.
"How much does the platoon make per month?"
At his question, Max, the cautious one spoke up.
"It varies month to month but on average, we pull in about 2,500 megas."
"And who’s paying up?"
"Mainly the merchants. They would rather pay to speed up the process. If we were to thoroughly inspect every single shipment, the wait times would be unbearable..."
“We let them pass. Merchants started giving us small ‘tokens of appreciation,’ and it eventually became a tradition.”
“What about ordinary citizens?”
“That area is mainly used by the working class. We let familiar faces pass without issue. Even if they try to offer us something, we don’t take it. They can’t afford to be late for work.”
Hearing Max’s explanation, Clyden nodded in approval.
“Based on rough calculations, each of you is making an extra 70 to 80 mega a month… Since we’re already making money, let’s share it. But let me be clear—extorting money from regular citizens is absolutely off-limits. Merchants benefit because they get through inspections faster, and we benefit from the extra cash.”
“But if you start squeezing the common folk, there’s bound to be an accident.
Don’t think of this as some grand scheme to get rich in the army. Just treat it as a bit of pocket money. Moderation is key. That applies to everything in life.”
Max smirked.
“No need to worry, sir. We all know where to draw the line. We’d never treat them unfairly. The merchants only give us a little something now and then as thanks for making their lives easier. It’s not like we’re demanding it from them.”
Clyden grinned.
“Good. My life philosophy is to do everything in moderation. Don’t stand out too much, don’t slack off too much. Just blend in, like water into wine, like wine into water.”
“From now on that’s the motto for this squad just like mine. If you’re incompetent, life is hard. If you’re too competent, life is just as hard. The middle ground is always the best place to be.”
Hamilton chuckled and raised his glass.
“To our new platoon leader! Let’s make a toast!”
Everyone lifted their glasses high and clinked them together before downing their drinks in one go.
For Clyden, it was a meaningful evening to bond with the squad’s key figures.
For the veteran soldiers, it was a rare chance to unwind, escape the rigid rules of the military, and enjoy a cold beer.
Clyden leaned back, satisfied.
“Now that’s what I call a win-win strategy.”
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[Translator - Tangrine ]
[Proofreader - Seeker ]
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