Mercenary Black Mamba

Chapter 134: Chapter 17, Episode 3: Sahel’s Night Sky

 

A smile crossed Captain’s face.

It was the face of an older brother looking at a younger one. The number of men who had died at Black Mamba’s hand was now too many to count. The rookie Black Mamba who had been miserable after committing the first murder was now gone. Now, Azrael, a man who could end the lives of 60 men and be hungry afterwards, remained.

The old military men would be content to clap for him as a mercenary, but Black Mamba was not someone who should be rolling around in the desert at war.

Black Mamba was young. No, he was very young.

Because he was so young, experiencing a lot of blood would only mess with his psyche. A war that promises no tomorrow and the continuous need to commit murder could cause a psychological disorder. The sidekick was Korean like Black Mamba, so it might help him mentally.

“It’s strange to see that side of a person we call, war’s nightmare.”

Captain smiled at Valboir’s comment.

“He doesn’t seem human at times, but in reality, he is more human than all of us. He has a strange way of attracting people to him. He’s like the youngest who you should look after to make sure that they don’t cause any trouble.”

Valboir cocked his head.

“Youngest my ass, he’s terrifying, even when he’s on the same team.”

Sun WooHyun was surprised for the second time after eating the ramen.

Eating such a thick steak that’s heated warmly…

He couldn’t have imagined anything like it in North Korea.

North Korea had military rations as well. Rice was dried and wrapped in an aluminum package before you poured water in to cook it. It wasn’t really cooked rice, it was more like porridge. The taste was one thing, but it didn’t provide much nourishment and only smelled sour.

The average armies were not even given these rations. They were only handed out to the reconnaissance team and the Pyongyang Defense team. The other armies were given a brick-like biscuit made of compressed mixed grains. It was hard as a rock and had to be melted for five minutes in the mouth before you could swallow it. It was not meant to be nutritional but more to relinquish hunger.

It was new. It tasted good. It smelled good. It was awfully big.

He felt cheated for having to eat the FROLINAT’s nasty ugali when such good food existed.

He was now 35. He had been born and raised in North Korea for 30 years. Thanks to his father, who had been a soldier, he had plenty to eat and had gotten as much education as possible.

He had secretly enjoyed freedom by listening to the outside radio stations, but it had not been enough for him to betray his country.

After leaving his country, the five years he spent in Africa had been similar. Mugabe and Gaddafi were dictators, just like Kim Il Sung. No, they were worse. They used their civilians as pawns.

It was a country poorer than North Korea. Their people were stupid and lazy, and their armies were weak and outnumbered. He felt that he was better than them and enjoyed helping the dictators grow in power.

What is this?

The food these people were eating was shocking.

They were eating ramen brought over from South Korea and large pieces of cooked meat.

In the 17 years he had served his country, had he ever eaten such a large and soft piece of meat before? He hadn’t.

Of course, they had three meals of rice given to them each day. Sometimes, there was fish, but there was never meat. Even when he served as a company commander, meat was only on the menu during the holidays or special festivities.

One time, his father had climbed up a mountain for a week to bring back the head and foot of a bear. The black bear had suddenly appeared and attacked the warrior. The bear had been immediately killed. The warrior who had gotten hit by the bear’s paw broke his neck and died.

He was reminded of the bear’s sad eyes and the glaring eyes of the warriors staring down at it. How badly they must have wanted to eat meat. Wanting to climb the ranks, he had ignored the look in their eyes and gave the bear up to the military. He was promoted on account of that.

As Sun WooHyun consumed the ramen and piece of steak, cracks began to form in his pride for his country and his father’s loyalty. A human’s belief was like cement. The stronger the cement, the harder it was to break.

“Hahaha!”

Sun WooHyun sucked on his oily fingers and smiled happily. Now that he had escaped, the annoying politicians he was sick of, were done for. The head of staff had treated him like sh*t.

The engines on the pickups and bikes which had been covered by the tarps started fine. After finishing their meals, the mercenaries checked the vehicles, collected their weapons, and moved quickly to load up their supplies.

Sun WooHyun turned to glance over at Black Mamba nervously.

The mercenaries left Sun WooHyun, who was a captive to Black Mamba’s discretion and pretended he was invisible.

“Comrade, don’t you need a hand?”

“Leave it!”

Black Mamba didn’t even look at him and continued spouting smoke from his cigarette. His comrades always felt sorry for him. Not helping him was the best way to help him.

Sun WooHyun stood awkwardly and took turns staring at the busy mercenaries and Black Mamba.

“Sidekick, it’ll be better to have a weapon that you’re used to, right?”

Black Mamba threw an AK-47, Makarov, and NR-2 sword at him. Sun WooHyun caught it unconsciously. Upon receiving it, he realized that they were all Soviet-made weapons.

He nodded his head. He was more detailed than expected.

“I can use any weapon you give me. I can even shoot the American punk’s missiles.”

“Good for you! How are your aiming skills?”

“Within 700 meters, I can easily aim for a shot in the head.”

“Right. If a soldier can’t do that much, then you should just go and die. Use this.”

Black Mamba threw the Dragunov to him.

Sun WooHyun was flabbergasted.

He did not command him to convert over to their side. He did not ask for a favor to switch sides. There was not even one warning. He nonchalantly handed Sun WooHyun a weapon as if he was daring him to shoot at the back of his head.

“What if I shoot you in the back of the head with this?”

“If you think you can, go for it.”

“Sh*t!”

Sun WooHyun sighed deeply.

He trusts me for no reason. How could there be a human like this!

He was not an entity that he could have taken on, to begin with. His heart swelled with rising heat. The Ombuti virus was starting to take hold of him.

“Black, what should we do with the camel?”

“The guide and the ex-FROLINAT commander will know best.”

Black Mamba stared at Ombuti and Sun WooHyun. It meant that he expected them to deal with the situation as they saw fit.

“Sidekick, how many FAP members are crawling around?”

Sun WooHyun’s eyes flashed menacingly at Ombuti’s question.

“Damn punk, just because I’m Black Mamba’s sidekick, do you think that I’m yours too? I am Sahel’s Namir.”

Ombuti glared at him haughtily.

“Is that so? You don’t even know what it means to be a servant. A servant is like a family, and a sidekick is just a subordinate. A servant advises the master while a subordinate only obeys commands. It means you are just a subordinate.”

“Wha…what, stop talking nonsense.”

Shocked by the ridiculousness, Sun WooHyun could not speak.

It seemed to make sense and lacked sense, at the same time.

Ombuti pulled out his Beretta.

“And I wish you would not call yourself Namir in front of Wakil, do you want to die?”

The black gun was pointed to his chest.

“Uh-huh, look at this crazy old man.”

At Ombuti’s sudden change in action, Sun WooHyun quickly stepped backwards.

“I guess it’s settled now.”

Captain and the rest of the mercenaries smiled.

As expected, the Tuareg-raised civilian was no pushover. Sun WooHyun’s expression turned sour upon the sudden attack.

Sun WooHyun looked at Black Mamba.

He hoped that he would rearrange the hierarchy for him, but all he did was close his eyes and meditate. He didn’t pay any attention to the argument. It was like a selfish husband who refused to get involved in the fight between his wife and mother.

Sun WooHyun sighed deeply, then opened his mouth to speak.

“300,000 men were put out to battle in TIbesti. All the mountain tribe assassins and the Tubu clan have been called into battle. The men who were killed this morning were the Tubu Clan special forces. Their skills are not to be taken lightly.”

“Seeing how they were all cleared, they weren’t that great.”

Corporal Maxim interrupted. Maxim had been thrust into a nightmare when he couldn’t get a single shot at Kikali.

Swish—

The Spetsnaz sword swished through the air like lightning and disappeared.

“Comrade Maxim, look at your upper body.”

“Oh, what is this!”

Corporal Maxim’s upper body suffered a total of five rips: both his left and right shoulders, both sides of his upper body, and his chest.

“I am the winner of the military swordsman competition. I could take on 10 comrades, like yourself, without blinking an eye. You won’t be able to take on three of the Tubu clan warriors. If it hadn’t been for Black Mamba, you would have ended up like that.”

Sun WooHyun pointed to the valley where they had dumped the bodies. Maxim’s face turned red, and he slowly stepped back.

“Goukouni’s troops are all over Tanga oasis while Tombye’s troops are heading toward Chicha. Abdul and Romu are heading toward Paya as well. As time passes, wouldn’t it become more difficult?”

“You’re saying the ones at the oasis are following us? We’ll have to move quickly. Ombuti, what should we do with the camels?”

“We can go to Tanga and sell them.”

“Won’t it be dangerous?”

“Don’t worry. I have a lot of acquaintances in Tanga.”

“Still, take the sidekick with you.”

Sun WooHyun’s face went sour. He was sure he was pushed back in rank.

Ombuti went to Tanga to sell the 10 camels.

He purchased 30 turbans and loose clothes that the natives wore. He also bought plenty of palm wine to make the mercenaries happy. It was extremely expensive but thanks to his good skills in sales, he had been able to sell the camels for a good price.

After saying goodbye to the camels, the mercenaries cheered.

They were not members of the Bedouin or Tuareg tribes. They were foreigners who were used to speeding vehicles. They had been stressed out by the slow speed of the camels and had ended up getting heatstroke and depression from it.

“Jang Shin, check the supplies and report back to me.”

Now, no experienced ranking officials were there to check their supplies. The only surviving members were three rookies, Valboir, and Maxim. Pieff and Mike were lying in a cot while the medic, Bronin, and communications officer, Centienne, were worse off in battle compared to Bellman. The rescue team was nothing but a burden to them.

Bike: 2

Pickup: 3

Rations: 200 sets (10 members, 7 servings)

Dried camel dates: 25 Kilograms

Water: 200 Liters

MO60 mine thrower: 1 (M24 30 bombs)

M60 caliber rifle: 1 (5,000 bullets)

Minimi machine gun: 2 (10,000 bullets)

Claymore landmine: 20 sets

Grenade: 40

Rifle grenade: 200 bullets

Dragunov: 5 (3,600 bullets)

Pamus: 8 (12,500 bullets)

Beretta: 3 (300 bullets)

Glock: 4 (360 bullets)

AK-47: 20 (15,000 bullets)

Degtyaryov machine gun: 2 (3 of the 47 shot magazines, 2,000 bullets)

There was silence.

“Hm!”

After checking the report, Captain clicked his tongue. The high-speed automatic grenade launcher was missing from their supplies again. The idiots from headquarters didn’t give them the grenade launcher they requested. Instead, they gave them a bunch of useless guns. He wanted to break the neck of the supply administrator.

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Captain had seen some fun with the Soviet AGS-17 automatic grenade launcher and was in love with it. Whether it was against a charging army or a standing army, it seemed to be the high-speed automatic grenade launcher they needed for battle.

The high-speed grenade launcher was like a machine gun for grenades. Its power was a combination of a rifle and a grenade. It was the most used weapon in a squad or platoon.

When they were battling a large number of opponents, and the targets were either too far or too close, this was what they used to combat them. Compared to the high-speed grenade launcher, the Pamus was like a child’s toy.

Besides having a significant delay time, the grenade launcher also had a recoil so powerful that it caused the shooter’s back to bend backward. It also affected their accuracy. It didn’t make sense against guerrilla troops who flitted in and out. In the time it took to shoot one grenade, they could probably shoot three or four enemies individually.