House of Cards (3)
What is this?? What is this???
My pitiful last struggle of saying, "I wanted to receive proper education," eventually made its way all the way up the chain of command.
"Captain Kim. This isn't an official statement, just my personal opinion, so I'll speak frankly. Don't you feel sorry for the people who'd have to sit you down and lecture you?"
After hearing something like that, what could I even say?
"I've already informed General John J. Pershing about this matter, so I'll make you a promise. The fact that you haven't completed this training will absolutely not have any negative effect on your promotion review."
"Thank you."
Well, if that's settled, then I guess it doesn't really matter.
My ambition to take it easy at Fort Leavenworth in some quiet town in Kansas was completely shattered.
The only thing that could heal my exhausted body and mind was my family. Missing Henry and Dorothy, I rushed straight home.
No matter how much this era believes in raising children strictly with corporal punishment, I have no intention of following that trend inside my own home.
"Daddy, your beard hurts—!"
This isn't punishment. It's affection.
The result of my affection was, of course, getting smacked on the back again, and after chatting with Dorothy, another day came to an end as I fell asleep.
"Oh, right. I heard about a good investment opportunity from someone I know. Want to take a look?"
"Investment? Is there even anything worth doing?"
"Everyone around me is talking about this. They say the annual return is 50%."
Dorothy handed me a pamphlet she had prepared.
It was full of nonsense about arbitrage between countries and guaranteed 50% returns deposited directly into your account.
"The last name is Pon, huh?"
"Huh? Not Pon—it's Ponzi."
"That name sounds really familiar for some reason."
A guaranteed 50% return, no questions asked.
The businessman's name is Ponzi.
Wow. So this must be that famous Ponzi scheme.
This brings back memories. In my previous life, my parents got scammed by this kind of thing and ended up buying charcoal briquettes… and here was the original version. If it weren't for that bastard, I might've gone to Seoul National University.
Seeing the historical origin of scammers like this again feels… strangely nostalgic. I should make sure this guy gets what's coming to him.
"If you know anyone close to you who invested in this, tell them to pull out immediately."
"Why? Quite a few people are already enjoying returns."
"It's obviously a scam. I've got a sharp nose for money, and this is 100% a scam."
A captain trying to blow away the sitting president and play kingmaker.
Factional infighting in the Army, with even that captain being helpless and running back and forth to the War Department.
Freshly delivered typhoid milk at home, and cutting-edge financial scams that'll rob you blind in the blink of an eye.
Amazing. America!
****
Around the time Warren G. Harding was nominated as the Republican presidential candidate and John J. Pershing declared he wouldn't enter politics out of sheer disgust,
the 1920 Democratic National Convention was essentially an execution ground to decide who would meet an honorable death.
No one really knew who would become the presidential candidate, but as for vice president, a man who would later be known as FDR—Franklin D. Roosevelt—was selected.
As for the Socialist Party, the Farmer–Labor Party, the Prohibition Party—naturally, no one really cared.
"The Democratic Party promised that America would not enter the war.
The Democratic Party promised that the Irish would be freed from long oppression.
The Democratic Party promised that Americans would enjoy American freedom!
You all know those were lies, don't you!
We were deceived, we were scammed, and we bled! Now they must pay the price!
The Republican Party promises this! America First! A return to normalcy! The warriors who fought for our freedom will now protect our children from chalk-filled milk!"
"Republicans! Republicans!!"
For the first time, all American women gained the right to vote for president, and Irish Americans sharpened their knives, claiming Wilson had betrayed them.
The Democrats were struggling to even organize their own stance on the Treaty of Versailles and joining the League of Nations—legacies of the previous president—and were also losing badly in the now-raging "milk controversy."
Meanwhile, Harding relentlessly hammered the Democrats like a fish in water. Honestly, any politician who couldn't win in this situation might as well be a Soviet spy.
As the new technological marvel called "radio" rapidly spread election fever across the nation,
I left behind Washington, D.C.—a place teeming with conspiracies and schemes—and set foot in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.
"Welcome, Captain Kim."
After completing my report, the current commandant—Major General Charles Henry Muir, a man with a rather intimidating face—spoke.
"Your achievements have been quite impressive. I can't tell you how fortunate we are to have you here at Fort Leavenworth."
"You flatter me."
"In the aftermath of the Great War, all education systems have collapsed. Officers who were supposed to attend classes merely filled out the required hours on paper before being sent to the battlefield, and now new knowledge and old knowledge drift around without ever properly connecting."
General Muir had faced the German spring offensive as commander of the 28th Division, and later commanded IV Corps, fighting at Saint-Mihiel and Meuse-Argonne.
Naturally, he wouldn't be pleased with the current state of the school.
"But unfortunately, I couldn't complete everything. I was merely a cleaner temporarily assigned so that the next person could build a new education system that will last for the next hundred years."
"General…"
"I'll be reassigned to the War Department soon. It's only for a short time, but I look forward to working with you, Captain Kim."
"Yes, sir."
As he finished speaking, the man sitting at the front table—where the second-in-command would sit—stood up slowly and approached me with an arrogant expression.
"Well, well. Who do we have here? The hero of Cambrai, the guardian of Amiens, and the savior of the Blacks—Brigadier General Kim!"
"I'm Captain Yujin Kim. I look forward to working with you, Brigadier General Drum."
"Brigadier General? Don't say that. Though… you will be one soon enough. Heh heh heh!"
Drum casually dropped himself into the seat where Major General Charles Henry Muir had just been sitting, letting out a heavy thud as he did, and then lit up a cigar.
"Since the official business is over, anyone with work can leave. Let's talk more comfortably."
"Yes, sir."
A few people came over to greet me briefly before heading out, and soon only a handful remained in the conference room.
"You always smoke those short little cigarettes. Any reason why?"
"Well, you can't exactly hand out pipes or cigars to the soldiers."
Do you even know what frontline command is like? You go up to the trenches, tear open a pack of cigarettes, and hand them out—those guys get so happy they practically faint.
It wasn't my intention at all, but it ended up sounding like I was mocking Drum for not having been a field commander during the Great War. Hmm. Totally unintentional.
"Hah. Those cigars are wasted on those Blacks anyway."
"I was talking about Cambrai."
"…Ahem!"
Wow, this guy's reactions are pretty satisfying.
"I've heard good things from General John J. Pershing about you. If we're to restore discipline in the Army, we'll need your help. Let's build a proper educational environment together—with me as the new commandant!"
"Understood."
"I'll be going first. Let's have a meal together sometime."
Putting on a show as if he wasn't angry at all, Drum left, and the lackeys who followed him quickly got up and trailed behind like chicks after a hen.
I honestly have no idea why I'm here.
Did I come all this way just to deal with this nonsense? Did Douglas MacArthur think that seeing this circus would make me willingly submit a transfer request to the Philippines?
At this point, the Philippines might actually be better than dealing with this mess. I can't stand this.
"Don't take it too seriously. He's the type who lives off his own ego, so when someone more impressive shows up, he gets like that."
Well, I didn't expect to find someone genuinely impressive here.
A man I had at least briefly met in Chaumont extended his hand with a smile.
"Do you happen to remember my name?"
"Major Mcnary, isn't it? Of course I remember. I heard I owed quite a bit to you back in the 93rd Division artillery."
Lesley J. Mcnary.
A master of artillery and a specialist in organization comparable to George C. Marshall.
While Marshall rose as a key figure in the Army due to his astonishing ability in logistics and transport, this man excelled in training and organizational structure, earning a brigadier general's star during the war.
In the original timeline, he would have been recorded in the Guinness Book as the youngest general—but unfortunately, that title went to me, since I got my star in my twenties. My apologies.
"The 93rd Division was always a unit I paid close attention to. Every time, your… creative and brilliant ideas were quite stimulating."
What? Is he holding a grudge because I was acting as a temporary officer in Saint-Nazaire?
But it's not like I could just plant officers like potatoes in the ground. I operated legally and recruited fresh newcomers fair and square. I even got consent forms.
"With Captain Kim here, Leavenworth is going to get noisy again."
"I plan to live quietly, like a mouse."
"Do you really? Didn't you come here under General Pershing's orders?"
"What do you mean by—"
"Ah, here he comes now."
A rather rough-looking man swaggered over, taking swigs from his hip flask.
"So you're Yujin Kim?"
"That's correct."
"Captain Adna R. Chaffee Jr.. Cavalry by branch, but my heart already belongs to tanks."
He was the one Douglas MacArthur had mentioned.
A man who would later make outstanding contributions to the U.S. Army's armored forces—after his death, the M24 light tank would be named "Chaffee" in his honor.
"When I heard you were coming, I turned down my next assignment. Decided to stick around here for another year just to wait."
"For… me?"
"That's right. If I don't debate armored warfare with the hero of Cambrai, where else would I find someone to argue with?"
He suddenly took a stance like a boxer.
"Did you see that damn Drum strutting around? A man who saw the hell of Meuse-Argonne with his own eyes, yet he sides with Drum—how's he going to face the fallen soldiers?"
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean."
"May I excuse myself?"
"No way. Honestly, Major Mcnary, isn't your blood boiling right now too?"
At Chaffee's words, Mcnary simply scratched the back of his head.
"Well, Pershing's thinking is completely outdated, but fine. Drum, on the other hand, plans to rebuild the training curriculum and shape future doctrine so that tanks become mere servants of the infantry. Rolling pillboxes—that's exactly how he sees them. What a damn idiot."
Do all tank fanatics have personalities like this? He's even more blunt than George S. Patton.
"A well-organized, large-scale armored force will dominate future land warfare! I became certain of it at Meuse-Argonne. The only way to stop tanks from becoming infantry servants is to beat that bastard Drum into shape—but then you show up here under Pershing's orders. And as infantry, no less!"
Ah. So that's how the story's being framed.
Whether it's true or not, it seems someone wants "Yujin Kim, the man who knows tanks best, says tanks are just infantry support!" Chaffee, at least, firmly believes that's my role.
"Major Mcnary, what are your thoughts on this?"
"I'm in the artillery branch, so I'm not entirely sure. I just hope the discussion proceeds constructively in a way that best benefits the Army. And naturally, Captain Kim's influence will be significant in that discussion."
Look at how smoothly he dodges the issue.
As expected—if you want to become a general, you need that level of tact. MacArthur really was the odd one out.
"Alright! Let's settle this! If you're a man, we'll resolve it cleanly with a duel! Draw your pistol!"
"No, I'd at least like to check out my quarters fir—"
"You're not getting the tanks, you slow-witted bastards! Don't think I don't know you infantry types are always trying to swallow up the cavalry branch! Glory to the United States Cavalry!!!"
Why is there not a single normal person around me?
I just want to go to the Philippines.
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