Jeon Jungkook' Heritage

"We're heading to the front in a week. How are you, Hyosang?" asks Commander Pak's hoarse, tired voice. "Did your wife still not answer your calls?"

"No. Apparently she found herself another husband, but I don't care anymore. General Jeong didn't give any instructions?" Hyosang asks, lighting a cigarette.

"No, his wife and son are coming to visit him tomorrow, it's best not to disturb him. He's been nervous and angry lately." Silence falls in the empty, cool office.

• Well, yes. That's right. His son has the same personality as him, he just turned five, still a real young man.

"Yes, and your wife is a beauty. I envy the general," Captain Pak laughs and claps his comrade on the shoulder.

A military man's life isn't easy. It's always about fear for your comrades, always waiting for the moment when you can finally see your beloved family. It's hard. And what can you do? A job is never easy, especially one that pays well and allows you to live comfortably. Jungkook was a military general, a man who also carried out his duties and often traveled on various missions. Rina, his beloved wife, was a journalist and often had to fly abroad for work. Jungkook didn't always like it: his mother should be with her son. And because of her flights out of the country, the boy often stayed with his grandparents. Jungkook is a man of the firm, old-school fatherly school. Therefore, his views and principles are completely different, more stern and sometimes too categorical.

But he doted on his wife and protected his son like the apple of his eye, his treasure, his little boy. He waited for his father to return every day from deployments and military assignments. The general was proud of his son and could occasionally scold him, but only as a form of discipline. Jiho was his own little imitation; the boy had his looks, his personality, and his habits. The father-son bond was strong, unbreakable. Tomorrow they would meet. Rina would arrive from Busan, finally able to find a couple of days off; they both missed each other. The man carried a small photograph of his son and wife in the pocket of his military uniform, so that it would warm his soul and heart.

Life is not a movie, and movies are not always a comedy.

《 Comrades of my distant days, Peers who lived so little!.. I guess I survived, So that the memory on earth does not die.

Fallen friends on the battlefield - There were many of you who passionately loved life. I know: I remained alive, To tell about you, who lived so little.