The Soldiers Who Eat Before the Officers

Twelve brass bowls sat empty in front of the officers' table.

The small ration pot meant to sit beside them had scraped its own bottom bare. Instead, a thin porridge boiled in the big cauldron behind the cookhouse. Bak Sangho scraped the ladle along the rim. Twenty four doe of dry rice, seven jars of water. If he gave one bowl to each of the hundred and thirteen men, what remained would be one ladleful at the bottom.

"Sergeant Bak Sangho."

The officer at the door unfolded a sealed arrest order.

"You mixed twelve doe reserved for officer rations into the enlisted men's pot and refused a superior's order. Surrender your sword."

Sangho did not put down the ladle. Twenty-one men in the first line had already received their bowls, and ninety-two more stood waiting behind them. If the fire went out now, only the front of the line would eat. That was the cheapest way to split a unit in two.

"It takes one gak to finish serving."

"This is to be carried out immediately."

"That order, how many men does it take?"

The four soldiers behind the officer looked at one another. Two were cooks who had gone without breakfast themselves, and one was a new recruit whose boots Sangho had once mended. Sangho did not call out their names. If he used their acquaintance to make them hesitate on the sword, he would only be pretending to share the blame while pushing the choice onto them.

"Bring two more ladles. Number Eight, line them up. Number Eleven, check thumbprints on everyone who's received a bowl."

"Sergeant." Number Eight, I Dosik, did not move. "If we keep following you, is that insubordination for us too?"

"Following my order is your choice too. If you don't want to, put down your sword now and go to the back of the line."

Only the clink of spoons remained in the cookhouse. I Dosik bit his lip, then picked up a ladle. Number Eleven, Gim Taejun, unbuckled his sword and set it on the floor.

"I can't do this."

Sangho nodded.

"Go to the back of the line. Your share is still yours."

The officer sneered.

"You'd feed another man who refused an order?"

"An empty pot can't read rank insignia or charges of insubordination."

Sangho walked past the officer to the board where the ration ledger was posted. Until last night, the top of it had listed the names of the major and twelve adjutants. He pasted on a new sheet and wrote his own name on the first line.

Bak Sangho. Twelve doe reserved for officers, added to the enlisted men's shared pot. Reason: of the hundred and thirteen men on outpost rotation, twenty-eight had eaten the previous evening. Time of execution: the second gak of Yusi. Arrest order arrived: the third gak of Yusi.

Beneath that, he added one more line.

No requisition from civilian storehouses. Next meal not secured.

"This wasn't done in secret," Sangho said. "The amount, the reason, my name, it's all here. If you want the officers' share put back, write down yourself how many spoonfuls to take from each soldier's bowl."

The officer reached to tear the ledger down, then stopped. The cooks and the men in line were watching. The moment he destroyed the paper, the burden of explaining where the twelve doe had gone would pass into his own hands.

"If the officers go hungry, command falls apart."

"If the soldiers go hungry, there's no one left to carry the order out."

"So you're painting every officer as a glutton."

"No. I set aside the shares for the two lieutenants out at the outpost. Those are for men who carried orders on foot today. I only put the shares of the ten who were sitting at the table into the pot."

Sangho pointed at a small jar. Two bowls' worth of thick porridge were sealed inside it, set apart. At least he hadn't punished every officer as one lump. The officer checked the jar's seal, then spoke in a lower voice.

"If you set the standard, tomorrow the soldiers will each pick which orders to obey."

The words were true. Punishment wasn't the only thing Sangho feared. The way he had saved twelve doe today could become a pretext for leaving even ammunition transport or withdrawal orders to individual judgment tomorrow.

"That's why I put it on the ledger. Next time, look at this ledger and punish my judgment too. I won't hide the soldiers' choices behind my own."

Gim Taejun shouted from the back of the line.

"Then if you're arrested, Sergeant, who ladles out the next pot?"

Sangho had no answer. This was the price of fixing his eyes only on feeding people today. He had settled neither a successor for the cookhouse nor where the next rice would come from.

Just then, two stretchers and Yun Sunhwa came in through the door. Sunhwa looked toward the pot as if she had caught the smell of porridge before she'd even seen the patients. The soldier on the stretcher had no fever, no wound, but his hands were trembling and his lips were cracked dry.

"When did he last eat."

"Yesterday at dawn."

"His name."

"Seo Jeongguk."

Sunhwa wrote the name and time in the register, then did not open the medicine box.

"Give him half a bowl of porridge first."

The army physician followed her in and stopped her.

"He hasn't been classified as a patient. Military medicine and relief food go to the wounded first, "

"His pulse is fast and his hands are shaking. If you give medicine on an empty stomach, he'll vomit it up. This man needs porridge before medicine."

"If we take in every starving soldier as a patient, the relief station collapses."

"I'm not taking in everyone. I check the last time they ate, their pulse, whether they can stand. After half a bowl of porridge, I'll sort who goes back to the line and who needs to lie down."

Sangho asked.

"How many bowls do I need to set aside."

"Six half-bowls, for now. In return, I won't use medicine. Only the ones whose pulse doesn't come back after eating get moved to the relief station."

Sangho counted what remained. If six half-bowls came off the top first, the shares for the twelve men at the end of the line would grow even thinner. Even if Sunhwa's standard was right, the cost didn't disappear.

"We'll be six bowls short at the end of the line."

"If it's split into half bowls, twelve men can wait it out."

"While they wait, the shift change falls behind."

"That's still faster than carrying them out on a stretcher after they collapse."

Sangho lifted the ladle and filled the bowl only halfway. Sunhwa fed Seo Jeongguk in three portions so he couldn't gulp it down at once. Jo Ujin, on the second stretcher, retched at just the smell of the porridge. Sunhwa laid him down and opened the medicine box.

"One standard can't save everyone."

She posted a small treatment ledger beside the ration ledger. Name, last meal, pulse, time porridge was given, time the man stood again. A register that had once recorded only when orders were sent now began to hold the time it took a body to recover.

Sangho asked.

"Will you write down my arrest order too."

"If anyone gets hurt because of that order, yes. For now, just leave the arrival time on the ration ledger."

She took neither her brother's side nor Sangho's. She left the blank space between cause and effect open first.

Seo Jeongguk, who had eaten half a bowl of porridge, stood up on his own one sigyeong later. Jo Ujin couldn't get up and was moved to the relief station. The twelve men at the end of the line waited another half gak for the porridge to boil again. Three of them cursed, and two stepped out of line and walked toward the officers' storehouse.

"Why do they get to eat first?"

"Do we only get a name once we collapse?"

The unrest had its reasons. Sangho didn't crush it with military discipline. Instead he called them up to the ration ledger.

"The six names of the men who ate first, and the reasons, are right here. Write your names too, the ones who waited half a gak. You'll be first at the next pot."

"Is there rice for the next pot?"

There was still no answer.

One of the cooks lowered his voice.

"There's a house outside the east gate with rice still left in its jar. If six of us go tonight, we could bring back two mal."

Sangho's gaze fixed on him. If all he cared about was feeding people today, that was the fastest answer. Six uniforms could overpower one household without resistance. The moment he used his refusal of the officers' share as a pretext to take from someone weaker, his own name on the first line of the ledger would become nothing but an excuse.

"What's the owner's name?"

"I don't know."

"How many mouths are in that house? Whether they'd take money for it? Whether they'll have anything to eat tomorrow?"

The cook fell silent.

"No requisitioning," Sangho said. "If you're going to buy, write down the price and the owner's name first. If they refuse, you come straight back."

"Where's the money going to come from?"

Sangho untied the money pouch from his waist. Three silver coins and twenty-seven copper coins. It fell short of two mal's worth.

"Use this as a deposit and ask for just one mal. Write the rest down as my unpaid debt."

"Who collects a debt from a man who's been arrested?"

"Which is exactly why, if the owner refuses, that's the end of it. Then we're the ones who go hungry."

He drew a new column beneath the ration ledger. Proposed civilian purchase, east gate outskirts, owner unconfirmed, one mal, deposit of three silver coins and twenty-seven copper coins, right of refusal guaranteed. It wasn't proof that protecting his soldiers had never crossed over into harming civilians. It was a record that didn't hide the choice that had nearly crossed that line, or the unpaid debt behind it.

Sunhwa asked.

"Who's going?"

"If I send only my own men, the uniform itself becomes a threat. One cook and one person from the relief station need to go together."

"At the relief station, Jobuni's mother knows market prices. But that means one less person to draw water for the patients."

Sangho wrote that cost on the ledger too. Water drawing delayed by one sigyeong. Even one small transaction left a gap somewhere.

The cook pressed his thumbprint on with a sullen face. It wasn't agreement, only confirmation that he'd carried the proposal forward. He left to fetch someone from the relief station, and the rice column for the next pot remained empty.

Sangho wrote "unsecured" at the very bottom of the ledger. I Dosik set down his ladle and spoke.

"If you're taken away, Sergeant, where does this ledger go?"

"You choose. One man for the ledger, one man for the pot. Don't give both to the same man."

The soldiers didn't agree right away. Some said I Dosik, who could read and write, should handle the ledger. Others argued that Gim Taejun, who had refused the order earlier, was more trustworthy. Sangho didn't step in. If he installed someone loyal to himself as his successor, the open ledger would just become someone's private property in a different shape.

In the end, Gim Taejun took the ledger, and I Dosik took the pot. They agreed to check each other's numbers at every meal. Gim Taejun pressed his thumbprint onto the ledger with his sword still left on the floor.

Only then did Sangho unbuckle the sword at his waist.

The officer took out a rope. But one of the soldiers on the arrest detail pointed at the ledger.

"Do we take this paper too?"

The officer calculated for a moment. If he took it, the empty shares of ten officers and the hundred and thirteen starving soldiers would enter the interrogation record. If he left it, the soldiers would keep copying down their reasons for refusal.

"Make one copy only. Seal up the original."

The other side had already learned the power of a public copy. Instead of destroying it, he tried to lock it inside his own records.

Sunhwa wrote down the time the rope was tied around Sangho's wrists. The fifth gak of Yusi. Sangho checked the name of the last soldier to receive porridge at the end of the line. The hundred and thirteenth, No Gyeongsu.

"Eat, then move."

No Gyeongsu raised his bowl and saluted. There was no cheering. Some looked away, and some tried to follow behind the arrest detail. Sangho stopped them.

"Watch the pot. If you follow me, the next meal gets taken away first."

Outside the cookhouse, an unfamiliar merchant was waiting. He showed the officer a small envelope and a folded transport map. Ito Masaru's name was written on the outside of the envelope.

"A writ of immunity and cash are ready. In exchange, I require the map marked with the new transport route."

The end of the rope was pulled taut. What the merchant unfolded was a map with the new route left blank. Attached to it was Yun Haejun's brief reply. "Only confirmed old routes will be provided. Record whichever place name the other side changes first." The merchant laid his finger only on the old route that had already been exposed within the army camp.