Marine Corps’ elite soldier Ryan, after participating in Darkstone Security’s field personnel training, suddenly found himself feeling like a complete fool.
He didn’t know how to obtain water from an area lacking obvious water sources, and now he didn’t dare to tell the instructor or Shangguan such foolish things like allowing him to carry more water.
God knows how much extra stuff they would add to him the next ti they were fully geared up.
He didn’t know how to distinguish what could be eaten, what couldn’t be eaten, and what could be eaten but had serious consequences, in different regional forests.
He didn’t know how to handle eruptive infections, how to effectively provide himself with a safe and sanitary environnt, he didn’t know...
Just like now, he was sweating.
Sweating definitely wasn’t because of the heat, it was because he was a bit scared.
He sat on the chair, the trainer across from him watched him calmly, his face was covered with sweat beads, a bit embarrassed, he wanted to ease the awkward atmosphere, grinned, and smiled, but the atmosphere beca even more awkward.
He really couldn’t smile because he was about to get hurt.
This was an ergency first aid class, in combat, one often encounters various strange and unusual wounds, so are from bullets grazing, with very irregular wound edges, sotis requiring cleaning off so skin before stitching.
So are from shrapnel cuts, these wounds look like an open wound bitten and torn by so animal, usually, they are not stitched because they can’t be.
After blood loss, the tightening of skin causes wounds to evert severely, external pressure forces subcutaneous fat to push toward the wound, exposing it more to the air.
Trying to clean it at this ti is not simple, it’s painful, and brutal. Generally, at this ti, it’s best to have a shot and sleep it off.
There are also so wounds that individuals can handle themselves, so these field workers won’t be clueless about how to act when injured on the battlefield.
Darkstone Security has specialized ergency dical training.
Ryan hesitated for a mont, then gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, "Co on, dammit, co on!"
The next second, the trainer across from him pulled out a military dagger from under the table, used the dagger’s tip to pierce into Ryan’s arm skin, and then drew a five-centiter-long wound.
The wound wasn’t very deep, not affecting him for too long, and what he had to do now was to stitch himself up.
In conflict, there’s no field hospital waiting for you, that’s just a hopeful wish, all field hospitals and dical equipnt are in the rear, many can’t hold on until they return to the rear before dying.
If you can’t handle the wound yourself the mont you’re injured, don’t expect anyone else to help you, then your chance of survival on the battlefield is less than ten percent.
Therefore, every field personnel has a five-centiter-long scar on their arm, this is evidence they’ve undergone training.
The feeling of the blade cutting open the wound made Ryan nearly jump up from the pain, he breathed rapidly, with snot and saliva spraying out as he breathed.
His whole face got as red as a groom’s engorged testicles on his wedding night, red and tight, veins bulging out.
Fortunately, the ti needed to create the wound wasn’t long, the real ordeal followed.
A suture dical kit was right in front of him, the trainer looked at him, "Do you rember the five steps we talked about in the training course?"
"Now, you have five minutes to complete the suturing, otherwise, I’ll take out your stitches, and you’ll have to redo it. Believe , that would be unforgettable for life."
At this mont Ryan didn’t even have the mood to curse, he first poured so diluted hydrogen peroxide on the wound.
In an instant, the stinging sensation made him scream uncontrollably, and others around him also started screaming, though so could hold it in, there are always tough guys.
Then he wiped the wound with gauze, picked up the suture needle—the thread was already on, they didn’t have to thread it themselves.
Imagine a soldier’s intestines spilling out, quickly opening a first aid kit, calmly putting on a pair of glasses, and with slightly trembling hands going to thread.
Perhaps his autopsy report would say, "Died from not being able to thread suture," rather than from blood loss and infection.
The trainer encouraged him, "Very good, excellent, start suturing."
Ryan cursed everyone in the camp and their families, then started stitching himself with one hand.
The pain from the fishhook-like suture needle piercing through the skin each ti seed even more intense and unbearable than when the skin was cut open, he didn’t know why.
But he had to persist, he was an elite soldier, everyone thought he was the best, he didn’t want to disgrace himself.
Seeing him clench his teeth so tight they might shatter, the trainer responsible for him smiled as brightly as a six-year-old seeing a cake, he’d gone through the sa thing.
"Very good, very good, now tighten it, yes... you can curse others, if you curse , I’ll cut your stitches..."
"Very good, disinfect again, yes, bandage..."
Twenty minutes later, the suturing was finished. Ryan felt it lasted as long as a century.
Upon arriving at the camp, all the environnt standards were assud to be in enemy-occupied areas under combat. They were without any supplies, just like now, with no anesthetic, having to endure the pain.
After it was done, he gave the trainer the middle finger, yet the trainer just smiled without responding.
Once everyone was done, about forty minutes later, the whistle for economic assembly sounded. Ryan instinctively stood up and joined the others.
Here ca their devilish instructor again. The devilish instructor looked at their bandaged arms and nodded with satisfaction. "Very good, seems everyone is done. Next is the full kit for thirty kiloters. The enemy has already caught up with us. If you don’t want to die, you’d better move quickly."
Seeing the despairing expressions of these young n, a smile appeared on the instructor’s face. "By the way, the company just decided to give you the formal first-level field pay. Maybe you’re more interested in this."
Everyone, including Ryan, beca more spirited. If ideals are the motivation for humans to keep striving, then wealth is the source of power.
Being soldiers wasn’t truly about wanting to die in a war soday. It’s more about finding a better job and having developnt potential, gaining so assistance. This is what they want.
Seeing the uplifted spirits of the young n, the instructor didn’t continue to hold them in suspense, and announced their various benefits.
From a base salary of a thousand bucks, to daily warti subsidies ranging from thirty to a hundred bucks, plus bonuses, and lengthy paid holidays after each mission. Everyone’s face displayed an incredulous expression.
Even Ryan was shocked by Darkstone Security’s generosity.
He did the math in his head; if there were wars throughout the year, even if he got the lowest subsidy, his annual inco would be twenty thousand bucks.
Of course, that’s impossible, but it’s not entirely impossible either. This ti, they’re really going to war, which may last more than half a year. He couldn’t even imagine how astonishing this amount of money would be.
No wonder everyone wants to join in; besides having developnt prospects, the most important thing is Darkstone Security is willing to pay.
This made Ryan and these young people realize a truth they deed beautiful but actually very harsh—everyone has value.
Similarly risking one’s life, first-level field operatives are worth this amount, second-level, third-level, senior-level, special-level... their lives are worth more, and the money they exchange with their own lives is also more.
A level-three field operative can earn about five thousand bucks a year without doing anything, but when needed, their tasks are often extrely difficult.
There’s not even a single special-level field operative in all of Darkstone Security. Reportedly, as long as one reaches special-level, the annual base salary is sixty thousand bucks, with a minimum subsidy standard of a thousand bucks a day.
Nobody knows how to beco a special-level field operative. Everyone wants to beco one. Not talking about doing it for ten years, just doing it for three years, completing a few missions, and you could retire!
Of course, the inco of a first-level field operative is actually quite decent too. Just working for four or five years equates to a typical family’s financial situation over thirty years — rely financial situation.
If one can save a little, it will be a considerable wealth.
Seeing the young n’s spirits uplift, the instructor was very satisfied. "Anyone got a question?"
"No, sir!"
...
After a week of planning and consideration, Darkstone Security’s "bid" finally entered the Ministry of Defense.
"Lynch said he has good personal relations with Isabella and Sanchez?" In reviewing the bid submissions from people, the Ministry of Defense unexpectedly found Lynch ntioned his connections over there in the bid.
When superiors have issues, subordinates must promptly address them. Soon, reports regarding these matters were delivered to everyone.
Apart from extensive blacked-out areas, what remained roughly corroborated Lynch’s statents. He had at least t Isabella, and had communicated with Sanchez.
"Lynch has an advantage over others. If he can communicate well with Isabella and Sanchez, it saves the process of earning their trust."
"We don’t have much ti, so I lean towards Darkstone Security."
So commanders believe these are not enough to change the specific situation, opting for other security companies.
Behind these officers and commanders are capitalists and enterprises. As representatives of these capitalists, even if they know choosing Lynch is the best choice, they still must choose those who support them.
Because each year, they can obtain a large amount of wealth from those supporters. Wealth that’s neither noticeable nor checked by anyone.
This wealth allows them and their families to enjoy the best life.
It seems nobody has ever considered why the wages of Federation high-ranking politicians and military leaders aren’t particularly high, yet they enjoy lifestyles far exceeding their earning ability.
People just naturally ignore this issue, with few willing to ponder.
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