The Sea-Land Assault Team's point man, Ryan, suddenly realized that after attending Blackstone Security's field operations training, he was like a fool who knew nothing at all.
He didn't know how to obtain water in a place with no obvious water source. Now, he didn't even dare tell his instructors or superiors the stupid idea that he could carry more water.
Who knew how much extra weight they would add the next time they went out fully loaded?
He didn't know how to tell which things in the mountain forests of different regions were edible, which were inedible, and which were edible but came with serious consequences.
He didn't know how to handle certain sudden infections, didn't know how to effectively provide himself with a safe and hygienic environment, didn't know...
Just like now—he was sweating.
He definitely wasn't sweating because the weather was hot. He was a little scared.
He sat on a chair while the trainer across from him watched calmly. His face was covered in sweat, and he felt somewhat awkward. Hoping to ease the awkward atmosphere, he bared his teeth in a grin, only making things even more awkward.
He really couldn't smile, because he was about to be injured.
This was a first-aid class. In combat, the injuries one encountered most easily were all kinds of bizarre wounds. Some were caused by bullets grazing the skin, leaving extremely ragged edges that sometimes required removing some skin before the wound could be stitched.
Some were caused by shrapnel. These wounds were open injuries, as if some animal had bitten down on a hand and torn it apart. They generally weren't stitched because they couldn't be stitched.
After blood loss, the skin tightened, causing the wound to gape severely. External pressure pushed the subcutaneous fat toward the