House of Cards (4)
1920
An era where Babe Ruth was beginning his legendary rise, and Jack Dempsey reigned as a giant in the boxing world.
Around the time I realized I'd lived long enough as an American to get over the shock that Dempsey didn't actually use the "Dempsey Roll,"
what awaited me was Leavenworth—practically reduced to ruins.
"Surprisingly, this is already somewhat organized."
"So this is what you mean."
"As you know, once the war broke out, this school was practically abandoned. We had to rebuild everything from nothing, and among those attending lectures, there are also… ahem, people assigned here to normalize administrative work."
Mcnary looked around the office as if recalling the war.
There was a reason figures like Drum and Mcnary had been assigned here after the war ended.
This place might as well have been nuked once and then rebuilt from scratch.
"And we also carry the crucial task of urgently incorporating the lessons of the Great War."
Right. That's probably why I was sent here.
"I'd like to hear Captain Kim's opinion now. What do you think the future of tanks will be?"
"Well… I'm not a fortune teller. How would I know?"
"If it's the opinion of the man who conjured the 'Armageddon Report,' then of course we must listen."
Mcnary lightly brushed his hand across the desk in front of him as he spoke.
"I won't go around spreading it."
"I've heard you're deeply versed in artillery, Major Mcnary."
"Ah, yes."
At my somewhat unexpected remark, he nodded. As expected, his confidence in his specialty was solid.
"If there were a way to improve the mobility and protection lacking in artillery, would you be willing to adopt it?"
"Of course… You're referring to the British Gun Carrier variant of the Mark tank from the Great War, aren't you?"
"Exactly. A design using the same or similar chassis as a tank, with field artillery mounted on top. Let's call it… self-propelled artillery."
"Self-propelled artillery…"
"Not just field guns—even something as simple as transporting mortars by vehicle instead of having soldiers carry them already showed great results. Engines and vehicle technology will advance rapidly, and people will want to mount engines onto all kinds of weapons."
"If motorization becomes possible, stronger guns could be deployed faster, and it would be easier to evade enemy counter-battery fire. If it's possible, who wouldn't want that?"
"Exactly."
Right. Even infantry would rather ride trucks than march—who wouldn't?
But full mechanization of the entire army is nothing more than a dream. Washington, D.C. is obsessed with cutting military budgets as much as possible right now.
"In the future, tanks will continue to evolve, and their roles will expand greatly, being used across a wide range of battlefields. They could support infantry, break through enemy lines, or even replace current towed artillery."
"So the number of tank types itself will increase."
"Of course, the best case would be a single, universal model. Every additional type multiplies logistical burdens."
I've had more than enough headaches with logistics already.
The only reason I suffered less was because I had a miracle of a chief of staff like Omar by my side. In truth, our supply situation was far worse than other units.
There's a reason I was spinning around like a level 6 Blademaster in Chaumont with a pistol in hand—logistics were… truly hellish.
"To summarize: any sensible commander in the future will be captivated by the low hum of engines and the marvel of wheels and tracks. Infantry, cavalry, artillery, engineers—it won't matter. What can't be replaced by machines?"
"So that's why they're fighting."
"Exactly. Both Lieutenant Colonel Drum and Captain Chaffee are right. The advantages of tanks and their potential uses are limitless. Supporting infantry or breaking through enemy lines are just a fraction of what they can do."
So just go secure more budget.
"A tank assigned to support infantry becomes a rolling pillbox covering their advance. But if the commander decides, tanks scattered across units can be concentrated and used for a breakthrough. In the end, it all depends on how they're used."
"So everything is right… That's a reasonable argument."
This "both sides are right" approach never fails!
This is right, that is right—but tanks are limited. So just use them flexibly based on the situation. Q.E.D. Done.
Of course, this was basically just dodging the issue. Compared to Mcnary simply saying he didn't know because he was artillery, I just used more words to escape.
But what else could I do?
In the original timeline, the emergence of light tanks, medium tanks, tank destroyers, heavy tanks—all those different types—was simply due to technological limitations before eventually converging into the MBT concept represented by the Centurion and Patton.
Right now, diversification is inevitable. Right now.
"You… should go into politics."
"Hahaha. I hear that a lot. But how is a 'yellow monkey' supposed to win votes?"
"That's fortunate for the Army, then. I've learned a great deal."
Mcnary nodded several times, murmuring to himself before excusing himself.
"By the way, Captain Kim."
"Yes?"
"Do you think Lieutenant Colonel Drum or Captain Chaffee will be satisfied with such a compromise?"
In the past, we tried to resolve the conflict between North and South through political compromise—but it ended in civil war.
Leaving those words behind, Mcnary departed.
Why would he say something so ominous?
His point was clear—this wasn't just a debate over doctrine anymore. It was a fight over budgets, already slipping into emotional conflict.
My head started to throb.
***
As expected, even before Mcnary and I could take action, Drum and Chaffee were already raising their voices and clashing fiercely over the content of my lecture.
"Captain Kim. You'll obviously focus on the lessons of Cambrai, right? The usefulness of a strongly organized armored force—that's the real lesson of Cambrai!"
"Captain Chaffee, please refrain from inserting your personal feelings."
"Don't be ridiculous! And you're any better? Don't think I don't know you've been influenced by the British and want to stick those so-called 'mobile fortresses' right in front of the infantry!"
"We don't even have proper teaching materials or manuals yet. Captain Kim is simply giving a special lecture based on past combat experience and tactics."
"Be honest. Are you saying you have absolutely no intention of filling that future manual with your own bias?"
"You—!"
Ah… what a battlefield.
I desperately put on the most pitiful expression of my life and sent a silent signal to Commandant Charles Henry Muir—who was already practically preparing for reassignment.
Save me! The only person I can trust now is the commandant!
"Everyone, quiet down. Why are you all arguing among yourselves at a moment meant to pass on Captain Kim's valuable experience?"
"My apologies."
"But those precious tanks shouldn't be wasted on those ground pounders—"
"Captain Chaffee!"
"I'll be quiet."
As expected of someone who had commanded a corps—there's a certain presence about him.
"Have the men bring in a few more desks and chairs. Let's all sit and listen."
"General?"
"This is a lecture by a commander who achieved victory through ideas no one else could even conceive. Then naturally, we instructors should hear it ourselves and learn what we can."
No.
That's not it.
Stop.
S··· T··· A··· Y···.
"This will be a valuable experience before my transfer. I look forward to it."
"Haha… hahaha. Understood. Haha."
And so, my very first lecture—now upgraded in difficulty—became an unprecedented session attended by both Major General Charles Henry Muir and Lieutenant Colonel Drum.
No matter what, the class had to go on.
Before starting, I glanced at the attendance list and was left speechless.
"I'm supposed to teach… these people?"
"That's right. Isn't that why you're here?"
Haha. Hahahaha.
I can only laugh. Hahahahaha.
Colonel Allen, Colonel Arnold, Colonel Bell, Major Brooke, Colonel Croft… an endless wave of field-grade officers.
Oldest: 54.
Youngest: 29.
Average: 41.
"I'm just a captain, you know."
"And a former brigadier general who commanded a division. Now get in there."
"…Yes, sir."
Honestly, the days with the red caps were better. Back then, if things got messy, I could just slam them to the ground and roll them around until it worked. But if I tried that with these old gentlemen, they'd all end up with rheumatism and osteoporosis.
Like a lamb being led to slaughter, I trudged into the lecture hall.
I will not die easily. I'll deliver a miracle lecture that even Muir, Drum, Chaffee, and Mcnary won't be able to nitpick.
For the first time in a while, my cerebral cortex was spinning at full speed.
A lecture no one could argue with.
A perfect lecture that could encompass opposing viewpoints—like an oriental salad blending everything together.
You think I can't do it?
Don't make me laugh.
I'm Yujin Kim—the first Asian one-star and a president slayer.
"Today's session is a lecture by Captain Yujin Kim, who led the 93rd Division with distinction through brilliant achievements from Cambrai, Amiens, Saint-Mihiel, to Meuse-Argonne—"
Drum's introduction went on at length. He looked exactly like the kind of man who enjoys doing this sort of thing.
"Please welcome him with a big round of applause!"
Clap clap clap.
Eyes filled with curiosity from every direction.
Not only did I have to deal with internal conflict at Leavenworth, I also had to satisfy the intellectual curiosity of these men.
If I failed, word would spread throughout the entire Army: "Ah, Captain Kim… seems he's not cut out for teaching. Geniuses are often like that, you know."
Faced with crisis, my survival instinct surged as always.
Bringing up tanks would be the absolute worst choice. It'd be like choosing between hanging myself or drinking cyanide.
"Good afternoon. I'm Yujin Kim. I'd like to thank Commandant Charles Henry Muir for arranging this opportunity, and Lieutenant Colonel Drum for helping me settle in quickly."
The moment his name was mentioned, I could clearly see Drum trying to suppress a smile.
Play the game, Yujin. You already got burned once in your previous life—no need to lose your career again.
"Many of you have asked me privately: 'How were you able to successfully lead the 93rd Division?' I believe your curiosity today is not much different."
Everyone nodded.
"The answer is simple. I understood Black soldiers."
Someone raised a hand.
"Go ahead."
"Isn't that obvious? How can anyone lead soldiers without understanding them?"
"Is it really? Do you truly understand what Black soldiers on the battlefield desire, why they stand there, their ambitions, their strengths, their weaknesses? What promises ignite their fighting spirit—and what words make them want to drop everything and go home?"
"That may be true for a company commander—but must a division commander know that much?"
"Yes. Because we are not generals leading troops under the decree of an absolute monarch—we are leaders guiding tens of thousands of voters in a democratic nation."
I struck the chalkboard sharply with the chalk in my hand.
"The British failed to understand the Indians—and brought upon themselves the disaster of the Sepoy Mutiny! Are we any different? Those of you who came here from the Coast Guard—can you confidently say you fully understand Mexicans?"
I began sketching East Asia on the board.
The Philippines, Indochina, China, the Korean Peninsula, and the Japanese archipelago.
"Do you understand the people of this entirely different cultural sphere—Asia—where the core interests of the United States will soon be at stake?"
Silence fell.
Yes. This is exactly what I wanted.
Who said I was just a tank expert?
My specialty is Asia, you people.
Forget kung fu masters and tank specialists—remember Asian Master Yujin Kim.
"Today's lecture will focus on a country we cannot openly name, yet always consider the primary hypothetical adversary in the Asia-Pacific regarding our interests—Japan. We will examine it while discussing how to understand foreign cultures."
As the completely unexpected topic unfolded, I saw Captain Adna R. Chaffee Jr. about to jump up—but then he glanced toward Muir and only shifted in his seat before restraining himself.
At the same time, I could clearly see Drum covering his mouth, deep in thought.
That's right—don't drag me into your tank debate.
Let's see if a single word about tanks comes out of my mouth today.
Not happening. Even if it kills me.
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