It’s not the salty air that makes his skin tingle with excitement. It’s not even the pretty clouds, towering high above and painting the blue sky with white floating softness. It’s not the sun, that warms up every single unhidden part of the land, what seals this summer day to its fullest.

Not the sound of waves, crashing somewhere far away, perhaps an half an hour walk from where he stands, nor the buzzing of different bugs, taking their way over the wind that blows so intensely in this part.

It’s none of those, rather than the large gate he’s facing in awe - a three meter at least, large stony gate that stand warden ahead of him. The bricks are somewhat old, and it seems like the tide’s breeze has taken its toll on those - turning them marvelously smooth and glistening with wetness.

Suddenly, he feels small - it’s such a large wall that he can’t catch the ends of it to both of its sides, and he stands dumbfoundedly, gaping at the gate that soon, will be the only thing that will part him from the world he used to know so well. It’s a frightening thought, but he came here with it in mind: today, he’s parting his life, and becomes a part of something greater, something that there aren’t enough words to describe the power of it. It’s made mostly of people, each one acting as a cork in the system, doing their assigned job, and because it is built of humans like that, it’s what makes the whole thing so inhuman.

Just like this gate before him, it’s a struggle to see to what extent this huge organization will get. He has no clue, but it’s an adventure he must make, as every man in Korea does.

It’s somewhat relaxing, knowing that he’s small like this- just a miniscule part. Just one man of many. It’s bringing him content along with some peace.

 

Someone shouts from the bus, and his eyes trail the last thing that came along with him from the civilian world. As the bus leaves, he’s left with a couple - 30 at most - men that look as much confused as he is. Some wear a tired expression, and some seem so eager to do something, anything, that it gives him some motivation too. He grips tightly at his bag, and wanders around the group, watching how no matter where he goes - the wall is still there, and still towers next to all of them. Maybe it’s just him that gives this gate a meaning, and maybe this gate is supposed to meaningful.

 

He has no time to think it through as a man in a white uniform calls the group to order, and the gate finally opens. Large iron doors creek as they move, and the man steps outside to greet the group. He looks a little older than the rest of the men he arrived with, and his shoulders are decorated with three golden stripes. They’re shining, and it looks like the rest of his worn decor matches them perfectly, with golden buttons, golden badges, and a sewn-in name over his right part of the chest. The uniform is stunning by itself, and gives the man a certain type of attention that a man can’t get looking any other way. However, the man itself reeks of charisma nonetheless, and the pearly fabric only amplifies it. He stands, face stern, but not unkind, and tells the rest to get in two lines as he will explain the process.

Suddenly, everyone looks uninteresting next to that man. To that soldier.

 

“You.” The soldier points at him, “What is your name, jangjeong?”

Words do not come easy when met with such unmatchable charisma, and he stutters, “Kim Wonshik.” He manages to blurt out, and he feels the eyes of the rest boring a hole through him.

“Well, jangjeong Kim Wonshik, join the rest?” The soldier asks, and only at that moment does he notices that his group already formed two lines, but he’s not a part of them. In fact, his legs refused to move much ever since he met with the large, stunning, stone wall.

“Yes.” He mumbles, and takes place as last in the lines. He ducks his head, and hopes to become as un-noticeable as being a soldier can make you.

Just a cork in the machine.

 

“Good. Now that you have formed two lines, I will explain.” The man in white speaks, and naturally, everyone pays attention to him. They cannot do anything but that. Everything from his posture, to the good-natured expression and his kind gestures is eye catching. Perhaps this is why he got assigned this position, aiding the newest recruits to the Naval Training Center in Jinhae.

“My name is Sangbyeon Choi Siwon, you can call me sir, and you must not call me by my name. It’s mandatory for you to know it, and also mandatory for you not to use it.”
There’s silence of processing. There it is- the first rule they’re set to live by for the next few years. No one speaks a word, but the stillness of everyone, while all the nature-originated noises are still very much present, speak volumes. It’s really happening. They’re enlisting. He’s enlisting.

“I will be your commander for the next few months of your training.” He shifts in place, taking an even taller stance that accentuates the news he’s speaking, “Today, there are many things that are required to be taken care of. Logistically-wise. You are allowed to ask questions. You are not allowed to speak when walking. Do not speak to other soldiers within the grounds of the training center that you are not familiar with.” He rests his arms behind his back, clasping them together and taking a long look at the apprehensive batch before him.

“Any questions before we enter the grounds?”

 

No one dares to move.

 

“Good.” He gives what seems to be a smile, but Wonshik is too far away to see. He’s lucky for that, since he is the most nervous of the whole two lines of men. The sweat that’s dripping on his chin is both from frayed nerves and the sun’s heat. It’s warm, so warm out here - and it makes him wonder if inside is just the same. Before he knows it, they start moving.

The unsure looks around him relaxes him to an extent - at least he’s not the only one who is clueless about what this day will look like.

 

He catches a snippet of the sun’s comforting rays before getting pushed into a long line of mundane labor. Firstly, they discard their clothes, and place them in a box, sending the content back home. They change into grey, bare of personality wardrobe, and it’s only the beginning of the feeling of being a small, unnoticed part of something much larger. Now that they all look the same, and have the same stoic expression, Wonshik can’t help but feel he’s losing something.

 

They’re brought into another caravan, and counted again.

The dry painted walls of the caravans match their insignificant hue, and the scenery looks grey and gloomy. Upon walking in, the stench of something burning - probably the plastic windows - absorbs their senses, and adding up with the humid feeling of being next to shore, it grants them a true feeling of being in a completely different place than what they’re used to. Wonshik holds onto his small bag, having nothing better to do with his hands. He’s sweating horribly, and they’re not given much time outside, in the fresh wind from the sea, rather than being dragged from one hallway to another, completely ignorant of what’s going on around them.

No one tells them anything, no one explains why they’re doing what they’re doing, but Wonshik is fine with that. He’s not one to ask those kind of questions.

 

After waiting a long line, he makes his steps through the drab hallway and reaches to a little cubicle where two soldiers are waiting. They have an insignia of medicine, he notices that before everything else - the syringes, anesthetics, different tubes and the masks on those men’s faces. With a puzzled expression, he lets the others do their job. He strips of the shirt, and quickly enough gets stung with different injections, to his arm. Dizziness climbs soon after, not from the substance injected to him, rather than the speed of the whole ordeal. They’re professionals, and do their job quickly, quietly and efficiently.

He doesn’t have any time to sit and get back to his senses, as before he even notices, he’s on his legs again, walking to another grey, boring, hallway.

 

 

---

The night in the training camp is very different from day, and to anyone that doesn’t dwell there, it will look like two completely different places. The aura changes from lively and full of vigor to something a lot more intimate. The dark hued sky covers the camp so perfectly, that even the camp’s patrol is hard to spot. Each of the soldiers that resident there get his own little bubble, and just like that everyone does their mundane, nightly things. None disturbs other with his fussing, and just like that they dwell in parallel to one another.

The camp’s newest residents, platoon 245, are no exception to this. The wind blows harder, and it’s slightly colder than day, but inside the small caravan, it’s warmer, and as they lay out their mattresses, it’s even better. They were given two rooms for the platoon - about 13 people in each room. Wonshik is assigned to residence A-1, while the rest of his fellow soldiers are in A-2.

 

He places his bag neatly in his individual box, and does just like everyone else- changing his daily uniform to the sleeping slacks they were given. It’s around 8PM, and even though Wonshik isn’t usually preparing to sleep at this kind of hour, the whole day drained him - just like the rest of his platoon mates - to a complete fatigue state.

 

From the very first day in there, he has changed - visually and mentally. He never thought it’d be so hard to do nothing active, rather than going from one station to another, signing here, getting documents there, getting more new and bland clothes. He thought that service would be something completely different, full of physical training, full of people yelling out orders, but maybe he has seen too many films. Today, was nothing alike that. No one yelled, and the most physical activity he did today was walking through hallways.

However, the biggest change is his visual; his dark hair shaved to small stubs and covered under a beret, carrying the ROK’s Navy insignia over it. It’s like a seal, signifying that he is, indeed there, doing what he’s doing. Now, he’s not a citizen anymore, rather than just a soldier, one of many in the Navy, and even one of many more in the army.

 

He gives out an exhausted sigh as he sits down on the thin mattress, which is the only thing blocking him from the floor. His eyes glance over to what others are doing, and how they’re spending the last minutes of their first day, and finds that many of them are decorated with a gloomy expression. Wonshik can relate to an extent, but he has chosen this kind of service, so he isn’t in position to complain. No one pushed him here, and it was his own whim to serve in the Navy.

A shudder passes through his spine, and he decides it’s time to end this day, so he lays back on the grey futon, and detaches himself from other noises around him. He stops hearing the ministrations other tend to with their own clutter. He stops hearing the buzzing from the lamps. He stops hearing the wind’s howl, and how the window creaks in company of it. He can only hear the waves, crashing somewhere not very far- constant and never-changing. He can almost imagine standing there, on a boat, and feeling the tide beneath him rocking the deck from side to side, lulling it in the vast blue waters. It’s a lot larger than what he’ll ever imagine, and what he can even comprehend, which is what makes it so intriguing. The sea is endless, and he’s nothing but a single soldier out of a single platoon, of a single division in the Navy training center, in ROK’s military. He might as well have been a droplet of water, and he’d have the same influence in both cases.

However, the waters are eternal, and he’s not, and just like the tide he must claim his rest. With that thought in mind, he finally drifts off to a dreamless sleep.

 

 

---

“Operating on a ship is not a simple task.” Their instructor explains, a man that looks somewhat close to his forties, with a never-changing expression of amusement. The uniform is slightly bigger than the man, who is a well-rounded person nonetheless. He walks from one side of the class to another, thinking about his words. Wonshik notices that the instructor takes his time with speaking. Some may mistake it for being slow, but he’s just fumbling over placing the correct expression, and not just the correct - the most correct.

“You’re a team, and even though each of you will have different jobs, you are to operate as one, and guide the ship into your destination.”  The crinkles around the older’s kind eyes remind Wonshik of his father, but the thought is quickly discarded, and he writes down messily what the instructor says. He speaks about communication, and the importance of it, and how all of the soldiers on-board should know each other well enough to speak comfortably, but not too much. It’s one of the classes Wonshik prefers listening to, mostly because it differs from the never-ending classes about weaponry, types of engines and other things he couldn’t find himself listening to. It’s only the end of the first week, but Wonshik feels tired.

He’s tired of listening to things he doesn’t really understand, nor feels the need to know them. Surely, he’s in the army now, and every single item around him is there to remind him that, but he can’t comprehend the reason of things that he’s taught. He imagined the army to be very different, perhaps more action-wise, or more interest-wise. He didn’t expect sitting in classes and be taught about mundane naval things, but then again, who is he to question those things?

 

“Soldier?” The instructor asks, and only by then does he snap out of his daze, noting that he must have drifted off to sleep, again. Wonshik straightens himself and watches the older with apprehensive gaze. It’s nothing unusual for him, already - the rolling eyes of his fellow classmates, the somewhat amused smiles of some too, and the punishment he’ll have to carry out this time. He sighs, and bows in apology when the instructor tells him to step out of the class and wait for him.

 

He stands with hands crossed behind his back, and gaze lifted upwards to the sky above, covering the greyness of the training camp. There’s a nice breeze in the air, and the usual scent of ocean mixes wonderfully with some summer rain. Harmless droplets soak in the uniform, and Wonshik shudders at the contact of wind with the wet fabric. It’s not the first time he gets punished, and at this point, he tries to muse himself with droll occupations. The first few times he was punished - which happened very quickly, as he found out - he would talk himself into becoming a better soldier, and get angry with himself, mentally for acting so poorly. However, now, he’s tired of getting punished. He’s doing his utmost best to listen, stay awake, follow orders, just be one of many - like a drop of water in the sea - but evidently, fails. He should have known that the army isn’t an understanding space for men like him, and it only frustrates him more.

 

“Soldier,” The instructor comes out of the class, and Wonshik straightens himself, watching the horizon, and not looking at the man as he was taught. It’s disrespectful to look in the eyes of higher-ranked personnel, and at least this boundary, Wonshik has no trouble to oblige.

“State your name and personal number.” He doesn’t sound angry, rather than simply disappointed.

“Jangjeon Kim Wonshik, soldier 1284083, sir.” The words roll off his tongue so familiarly, as he repeated those endlessly in the passing week. Each time, they brought a new reaction from different men around him. It takes time to soldiers to memorise their personal ID, but he has repeated it countless times, memorising it completely.

“Platoon 245?” The older asks.

“Yes sir.”

Then, the man sighs. It’s odd, this reaction. The whole passing week his commanders and instructors simply got angry with him, and he would stand still, waiting for their raised voices to pass and let the sound of the ocean be heard again.

“You’re a troublemaker, Jangjeon Kim.” The man chuckles, and Wonshik straightens himself even more. This reaction- this whole situation is not normal. He understands anger, he understands commands and punishments, but this is simply offbeat. It catches him unprepared and he tries to hide his nerves deep behind a still composure.

“I’m going to give you some punishment, but I want you to do it and think about something.”

This too, is very different from what Wonshik knows.

The man walks to face Wonshik, unlike the others that stood from the side, like protocol orders them, and looks at his somewhat fazed gaze. There are a few beats of silence, and the soldier does his best not to falter from his fluctuated stance.

“I’m going to assign you to clean the platoon’s assigned docks. The cleaning time is between 8PM and 10PM. Ask your commander to give you the needed resources for this and carry the punishment out tonight.” He explains, and Wonshik nearly sags in his spot, “At your ease, go back to your platoon.”

 

 

---

The breeze only intensifies with the night, as the tide reaches closer and caresses the shore, washing away any remnants of the day. The waves crash softly against the bay, rocking the different ships that dock there for the night, as if lulling them to sleep, even though each of them is vacant but supplies.

The moon is nothing but a silver line, reflecting its high light over the bay, outlining the heavy machinery and the delicate wooden path that leads to the docking stations. There are some night-lights that the base provides, hung above any soldier’s head and reflecting a warm beam of faint glow. The electric hum of those and the endless crash of waves could lull anyone to sleep, but there are some that must stay awake.

Each time the broom or the bucket hits the wooden path, it feels like intrusion to the silence around him, so the soldier takes care in carrying those quietly to the port. Most of his platoon mates are probably already preparing for the following day, either by memorizing the material of this day, or by resting their non-stop overworking minds, to be fresh for anything that they might meet.

However, the soldier is assigned a punishment, not for the first time, and must carry it out. He sighs, as it only seems fit, and pours the content of the bucket over the wood. It creeks some beneath his feet, but the sound is overpowered by the natural noises around him.

There is some solace and peace, he notes, in being alone this way. His mind gushes like the tide, full of the precedent days. The soldier finds trouble in remembering all the details, but he can definitely pull the way a ship is built out of his mind. He glances over to those docked at the port.

The moon shines shyly behind the huge vessels, lighting the harsh outlines as they rock from side to side against the crash of waves.

At this moment, Wonshik realizes how much beauty does this scenery holds. He can recall, that all those days ago, when he wholeheartedly went to take the tests for the Navy, this is why he wanted to join. The image of himself on one of those monstrous machines is something he can't grasp his imagination around, and wants to experience himself.

With the broom in his hand, and the water long-soaked beneath him, Wonshik can't bring himself to look away. It's beautiful beyond anything he previously imagined, and the raw power emerging from just looking at something overflows and enchants his heart.

Yes, he decides, he wants to be on one of those.

As silence grows, it's easier to pay attention to the vastness of the dark blanket behind the grandiose vehicles, lulling the horizon to dream.

There's so much behind the edge of the soldier's sight, so many undiscovered waves that are born from a place far away. Perimeters to circle and vision to meet in a never-ending ocean. The moon ignited the froth meeting silently with the port, and as the man is standing still, he realizes, there's nothing still about his position.

Someday, when he's done with his Naval studies, he could be on one of those and explore what he can't see from here.

There will always be horizons to explore, and the soft lull, naturally created by the rise and tide of waters is enchanting.

It's calling, breathtaking, stunning and drawing the soldier in. There are some soft murmurs of the wind, and only when the broom hits the ground, forgotten and let loose, does Wonshik realizes he has been staring motionlessly.

No, not staring - adoring the view.

The soldier blinks away the salt from his eyes, and notices that the now-familiar scent is mixed with something else.

An earthy, man-made smell, rising from unknown place nearby. A greasy, impure scent that doesn't fit with the natural aura of the port.

The smell of cigarettes.

Kim Wonshik is not a smoker, never was, nor will be, as the thought of doing something with such repulsive consequences is unbearable. The soldier picks up the utensils, and upon seeing a thin line of smoke, he follows, looking in the darkness for the source of it.

When the distant lighthouse's lamp illuminates and blinds him as he walks on the damp ground, he sees the grey vapor more clearly. He's most definitely not alone here, and by instinct, Wonshik wants to figure the identity of the smoker.

A shiver travels down his spine when the option of the mysterious smoker to be another officer that will, most likely find a fault within Wonshik's actions. However, the soldier's legs work on their own accord, and before he knows it, his eyes catch a dark figure, wearing what seems to be the same, grey clothes, just like he does.

The air is unmistakably heavy, carrying the salty humidity, and just ever so slightly, the thin line of the fume penetrating the scenery, originating from a fellow soldier that doesn’t seem to be any higher in rank than Wonshik is.

The latter doesn’t seem to notice him, and the soldier decides it’s best not to bother him. However, it is only upon turning around to start cleaning does he hear the soft whimper emerging from the man that is now behind him. That causes Wonshik to stop, hitching his breath for a beat, only to release it when another cry is emitted to the wind, confirming that the unknown soldier is tearful.

It isn’t anything new, as far as Wonshik knows - even his platoon has those few individuals that broke down into tears on the first couple of days. It’s understandable, in Wonshik’s eyes, however, pointless, as they have no choice but to withstand the current situation. In his mind-set, he tends to keep away from facing those instances, and let those who are much more talkative than him handle it.

This time, he could walk away as well, but with each passing moment, with each crash of waves and buzz of bugs, Wonshik knows his curiosity will not allow him to ignore it. He sighs despite himself, and the soldier turns around yet again, minding the sounds of the broom meeting the ground, and the rustle of the bucket.

The unidentified soldier is still there, and the smoke rising slowly from the bud between his lips is still very much thick and invading. The unfamiliar one wipes his tears, and throws the cigarette to the ground, walking into a lighter spot, and allowing Wonshik to figure out his identity.

As Wonshik is left to his own duties, the parallel meeting that has just occured is long forgotten at the back of his mind.

 

---

 

Countless pairs of polished, black shoes, rhythmically stepping in unison, making further progress in through the parade ground is an empowering sound, not just to him, but rather to anyone that would every get to hear it. The fallen cherry blossoms on the ground muffle some of the powerful marching, but the soldier walking amidst his platoon mates, feels how the floor below them carries the impact of their shoes to each direction of the grounds. His heart flutters in excitement, and the beat matches to the pace.

When his platoon stops, finding their place among countless other soldiers - all dressed in festive white uniform, his heart doesn’t cease the measured tempo, and even without the drums, Wonshik could have continued marching in perfect rate, listening only to how excited he is.

The spring in Changwon brings with it all kinds of different distractions, and yet, to Wonshik, they all seem special today. Even if his white cap is collecting petals, and the air is humid and salty, causing the men to perspire in the ceremonial uniform, it all becomes a soft, dull piece of the background. He cannot pay attention to those things, even though, all those days ago- when Wonshik had only started training, he probably would, as today is the day that any new recruited men awaits for.

The end of basic and navy training.

Thinking of those words sends numerous sparks of joy throughout his body, and when his platoon leader steps ahead of them, shouting his salute to their seniors on the stage, Wonshik’s mind becomes blank.

When he shouts his salute, raising his hand along with the rest of the platoon, the sounds become mute, and as if a machine, he does what they have been trained to do for the past two weeks. Not just him, not just the simple soldier that is Jangjaeong Kim Wonshik, but the whole massive amount of now-trained men. All in white, all carrying the same symbol of the Navy, all eager as much as he is. The sea of people acting in perfect unison swallows his individual actions, and the feeling that has been lately blooming within his chest overtakes any other sense - the feeling of being a part of something much larger.

The feeling of pride in those men, that to many other would seem faceless, but to Wonshik, they’re his brothers, those he must depend on and trust as they would be assigned to new titles and paths. No one would do their work for them, and they are the only source of their product.

His heart swells with joy.

Soldier Kim may be just a small piece of this massive ocean, but he cannot be taken out, as his role is important, and whatever he may be assigned, he would be the only person to do so.

There’s something very significant in being insignificant in that manner.

 

“Jangjeon Kim Wonshik!” An officer calls out, and on an instinct, the man steps out of his platoon, saluting the other and walking to him. Only a moment later, he’s allowed to remove his saluting hand, and only a moment later, he receives his assignment.

 

Only a moment later, he becomes Jangjeon Kim Wonshik, Engine Fitter for the ship Hyun Sihak.