Chapter 110
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: Grinning Broadly: US Army Maker (4)
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West Point Superintendent General MacArthur was facing an extreme crisis.
He had been driving aggressive reforms as superintendent—introducing advanced knowledge, overhauling the curriculum, rooting out entrenched bad habits—but the alumni were savagely criticizing him as a bastard out to destroy tradition.
For example, he'd been roundly cursed for allowing calculators in class.
Another case: he'd scrapped the traditional exam format of reciting the entire textbook from A to Z in front of the instructors, and gotten flak for it. What, was that textbook the Quran or something? No wonder it produced officers with heads as thick as drums.
I'd figured on solving this by handing MacA-mong some killer future gadget, but seeing him cling to me instead, pleading, "Eugene Kim! Tell me quick how to take down those old fogeys!" just drained my energy.
"I'm doing my absolute best, but I can't keep it up."
"Why have you gone so soft, sir?"
"Because I'm the superintendent, that's why. The head of any organization must never appear weak. No matter the dire crisis, you have to stay upright, steadfast, and maintain your dignity."
"But even most of my instructors below me are listening to those D.C. geezers and stabbing me in the back. Once my term ends, all these reforms will go up in smoke. I never thought I'd end up like Gracchus."
"...If you've done the right thing, sir, there must be instructors now who secretly agree with you. Even if the reforms fail temporarily, someday people will carry on your will and find the right path."
MacArthur nodded slowly but with firm conviction, as if steeling himself.
"Right. This MacArthur is not wrong. The cadets in training now and the instructors may compromise with the majority for personal gain, but they can't betray their conscience deep down. Right now, the only instructor helping me is Captain Ridgway—"
"Who's that?"
"Matthew B. Ridgway. He handles various athletics courses—a pretty capable fellow. If you get the chance, meet him yourself."
Ridgway wasn't a common name, so was this the same Ridgway who'd been UN Commander during the Korean War? If so, along with Hodge, Van Fleet, and Ridgway, I'd have collected all the Korea-related figures. In mobile games, you get a combo bonus for completing a series.
Anyway, no time for stray thoughts. This was MacArthur—he'd amazingly pick up on any lapse in focus and chew me out.
"At least Secretary Baker nailed down my star before retiring."
"True. At least you won't drop back to your original rank after leaving the superintendency."
"Do you know anything about the new Secretary of War?"
John W. Weeks, that is.
A Massachusetts senator who'd bet early on Harding like us and snagged the cabinet post. Honestly, early Harding looked worthless, so Weeks must have top-notch political instincts.
But that's exactly why he'd be sensitive to disarmament sentiment. He probably saw successful disarmament as his life's calling.
After hearing my explanation, MacArthur sank back into gloom, and we ended up parting after chatting about trivialities.
I concluded MacArthur was in no position to lend strength, but I had zero intention of giving up.
Now it was time for the rat-burning game.
Thinking back now, the mighty Republic of Korea Army taught me a ton. Man, I miss Hugguk.
Less focus on practical combat power management, more on 'priorities' to please superiors.
Worrying day and night if troops would screw up, if barracks discipline was tight, if there were any suicide risks—over soldier combat improvement.
Less dedication to duties, more cutthroat politics and petty battles to shove rivals aside and climb up.
This body survived that brutal grind, pulled off rat-burning antics, and even got face time on prime-time news. Was it leftover macho vibes, or being a century in the past? Either way, the immature US Army politics seemed manageable.
But this fight needed caution.
The Republican Party and political circles.
Munitions firms fiercely competing to carve up the remaining pie amid disarmament.
And the US Army's core upper echelons—especially grave since Pershing was tangled in it.
All this stemmed from US citizens wanting disarmament. If Americans craved a strong military, it wouldn't be the hot agenda.
Whether 1920 America or 2020 Korea, both democracies. What were the odds of one guy beating the regime without public support? About the same as Imperial Japan forcing US surrender.
"Sorry, son-in-law. I can't help much on this one."
"No problem. Just explaining your situation helps a ton."
My father-in-law, Congressman Curtis, was the first to throw in the towel.
He wasn't a hawkish interventionist to begin with—sudden flip-flops would just draw fingers pointing "for his son-in-law."
"Can't sway Congress. They don't care much about combat ability or... technical details. Military veterans are even more conservative, blind to new weapons' appeal."
"I know."
"Kahn started it, but he's just the proposer. How do you plan to handle this?"
"By riding public sentiment."
"...Want my district? Run for it."
Ah, no thanks. Even if I ran, it'd be California, not Kansas. Better put Dorothy up!
If Curtis was this pissed, no need to mention Harding.
Connecting with the White House meant steeling for total disaster. Look at Wilson's fall. Once whispers of "shadow power" bubbled up from below, I'd be done in America.
Plus, Harding was a great guy... but unreliable. I'd lend him poker money anytime, but delicate stuff? Nah.
So, time to draw my trump card for swaying the public: The Sun.
My next stop was naturally the mansion of President Ford, keeper of this miraculous Excalibur.
"Heard the tank investment's tanking big time?"
"Yes. That's why I came all this way to see you."
"Was juicy while it lasted—too bad. Time to scrap the line and focus on tractors, right?"
"Demand drop means adjusting lines, sure. But keep some tank R&D. We still have the rep as first and best tank maker. Too wasteful to toss."
He pondered, then called his son.
"Ah, Major. Congrats on the promotion."
"Thanks. Won't feel like celebrating till we convince the US Army they want more tanks."
After greetings with Edsel, we dove straight into plotting our nefarious scheme.
Nothing hits like sipping cigars and booze in a lavish mansion, scheming against nation and world. Is this why people do business?
"So, using The Sun?"
"You two know that rag's power well."
"Hahaha! Insane. They say The Sun sells out every time they run our new Ford stories!"
Edsel, who'd staked his CEO life on new models, was practically dancing.
Even if Model T got trashed as outdated cheap junk, it was all tough love.
To Americans, Model T was the first "my car," middle-class symbol, North Star of the American Dream.
Plus, Ford's image surprisingly improved from the Chicago Tribune libel suit, and his obsessive T-love was public knowledge. "Ford new car" was clickbait heaven.
And I added a dash of 21st-century flavor.
"How'd you dream up that promo?"
"Who doesn't get thrilled by 'leak' or 'classified'?"
[SPOILER!! Anonymous Ford Exec: 'Developing Completely New Vehicle—Not Model T.']
[TOP SECRET! Ford New Car Secretly Road-Tested in Arizona Desert!]
[Exclusive: Ford Board Minutes. 'If New Car Fails, I'll Jump in Hudson River.' Shockwaves!]
What happens when you drop addictive internet bait headlines from 2020 into 1920?
Sold-out papers, duh. Sweet.
Public was Pavlov's dogs now. They bought The Sun first, then hunted Ford stories.
"With interest maxed—before it flips to rage—time for massive promo."
"All set. Dozens of papers lined up. Just say go, and our new car blasts across front pages everywhere."
Perfect.
Ford test run done—now same for tank bait.
"Can't we milk it another month?"
"We've used it months already. Drag more, people rage."
"Hm. Next hook: tanks. I'll whisper to my 'friends.'"
Done.
Soon after, The Sun unleashed fresh exposés.
[America's Pride Tank—Discarded by American Hands?!]
[US Tank Britain Envies, France Jealous Of, Germany Fears! Now Just a Relic!]
[German Gov't Secretly Eyes Buying Ford Tank Line!]
[Why World's Top Tank Engineers Fleeing to Old World?]
[Soviet Elite: 'America Dumps Tanks—Now We Absorb Their Tech Essence to Redden the Globe.']
Military logic can't beat capitalism.
But amid my Philippine headache, I'd rediscovered a truth.
Capitalism can't beat national pride logic, dead or alive.
Dear Congressmen.
Want a taste of nationalism?