Chapter 113
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Grinning US Army Maker (7)
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"Tanks are the pride of the United States."
"We are the first nation in the world to invent them and the first to standardize them."
"You lack patriotism! I created this new weapon solely out of a burning desire to contribute to our United States—"
"Our tanks are seriously badass, I'm telling you! For real, for real! Would you believe it only if your mom vouched for it?!"
Ah, my throat hurts.
After yelling for so long, my throat was parched and sore.
Standing and talking for hours had me on the verge of collapse, but at least these congressmen weren't shooting at me like the Germans would, so it wasn't all that scary.
Congress was a total madhouse, like a flea market gone wild.
"Tanks are our pride and glory! Abandoning them would be utterly absurd!"
Those who had hopped aboard the national pride train in a flash.
"How can a United States congressman be swayed by some trashy third-rate hack writing for sleazy rags? Since when did tanks become the pride of the United States out of nowhere?!"
The skeptics.
"If businesses thrive, the nation thrives! Now that we've become the leading tank power, we at least need to keep our domestic tank industry alive, right? Tanks we don't even use are selling like hotcakes abroad!"
The ones bought off by Ford.
"With the money we're sinking into tanks, we could do so much more! That cash could equip our troops with far better rifles!"
The ones bought off by the opposition.
"Is it true the Reds are after our tanks? Henry Ford's always had left-leaning views—could this be a Soviet plot?"
The red-baiters.
This was it, total chaos before the storm, right?
But thanks to my sore throat and aching legs, I'd mapped out all the key undercurrents in this chamber.
If it had gone against what my father-in-law and I predicted, it would've been a total disaster, but luckily, the mood in Congress matched our expectations.
When no one cared about tanks, they were just a trivial detail to scrap.
But once the public started seeing them as something precious, they became a tool for politicians to flaunt their principles and ideologies.
After hours of desperate pleading, aside from the hardcore "Tanks OUT!" crowd, the moderate opposition had converged on: "Fine, if tanks are really that vital to our nation's pride, we should protect them to some degree. If they're the real deal, that is."
That was exactly what I'd hoped for.
Forget budgets, seats, tank utility, reforms—all that complicated crap.
Neither side had any real insight into military strategy. They just wanted to look good.
For these congressmen dying to play smart, I'd brought "ammunition" all the way from across the Atlantic.
"Next, I'd like to submit evidence to the esteemed congressmen."
"What kind?"
"Some of you have expressed concern over certain citizens' excessive pride in what is merely a weapon. I believe this concern is thoughtful and valid, so I've sought expert counsel and received a response to present here."
The opposition congressmen grimaced at this unexpected curveball.
But those who'd gotten plenty from Ford, or had tank factories in their districts, or wanted to turn this national pride meta into votes, welcomed it enthusiastically.
"Let's hear it first and decide!"
"If it doesn't hold up, we just reject it as evidence!"
"Quiet, quiet! Major Kim, what is this material?"
"Two letters."
I slowly read the first one aloud.
"To the esteemed congressmen of our ally, the United States. I am Henry de Beauvoir De Lisle."
"Who's that?"
Murmurs rippled through. Perfect.
"In 1917, I served as commander of the British Empire's 29th Infantry Division at Cambrai, where I personally witnessed the exploits of your nation's tank battalion..."
"Hold on! This is just a personal letter! Invalid!"
"How is the opinion of a foreign general 'personal'?"
"Since when do we heed foreign generals? This is a sovereignty violation. No need to listen to the Brits!"
"Shut up and let him finish!!"
Lisle's letter was straightforward.
The troubles faced by British tanks at Cambrai.
The astonishing feats of the US 326th Light Tank Battalion.
How bravely they fought and how many British troops they saved.
He laid out the facts plainly, stripping away personal sentiment, explaining in simple terms—even for civilians—what American tanks had achieved in the Great War.
Thank you. Truly.
It must've been tough for a foreign general to send something like this, but when I asked for help, he sent it without hesitation. I owe him one.
The second letter went uninterrupted.
"Next is a letter from French General Charles Nollet."
The letter from General Nollet—who'd thrown a medal party for our 93rd Infantry Division after Amiens—was pure French: a wild mix of passion, lavish praise, drama, disdain, and bewilderment.
"—Thus, tanks will never be phased out in future wars. Our great French Army is already producing tanks second to none compared to America's, and we're researching armored warfare extensively. If your nation discards its tanks, I personally believe France would gladly acquire those facilities at a fair price—"
"Those baguette bastards are eyeing our tanks now! This is on you! You did this!"
"If the frogs catch up, we'll lose the European market! It'll tarnish America's prestige!"
"Are congressmen really getting this worked up over one individual's opinion?"
"No! You're the one taking bribes and selling out America's pride!"
With two foreign experts essentially saying, "Oh, American tanks are great, love 'em~," via my translation—like slathering spam on tanks and serving it up—the moderates' arguments collapsed completely.
Now they either had to scrounge up some sleazy counterargument fast or nod wisely like they were deep thinkers.
"With such clear evidence, it's obvious American tanks had a major impact on the war."
"Ahem. If you'd presented this from the start, we wouldn't have dragged this out."
"My apologies. This is my first time before you esteemed congressmen, so I was nervous..."
After some insincere back-and-forth, most chose a dignified retreat.
"Even if corps-level tank formations are budget-busters, the Army should at least show ongoing investment in this new weapon."
"Any congressman worth his salt must encourage legitimate business! With a product where we hold a clear edge over foreigners, we should promote it aggressively!"
"Bundling tanks with other arms sales would be the ultimate gift to pro-US nations."
Suddenly possessed by defense experts, the congressmen—acting like they'd been born clutching the flag—launched into fervent speeches on maximizing national interests.
Leaving that behind, I clutched my pounding heart and slipped out of the Capitol.
We won.
The new defense bill passed both houses swiftly after minor tweaks.
The Tank Corps couldn't avoid disbandment, and its remnants being absorbed into infantry units was as planned. I'd never expected to save corps-level organization anyway.
In exchange, the Army got an "Experimental Mechanized Division"—a testbed unit—and the War Department established an armored research section. That division was essentially the spiritual successor to the Tank Corps, the core brain trust for future US mechanization and armor development.
The fields the Experimental Mechanized Division would tackle were endless.
Tanks were just the start: trucks, heavy equipment, and even nascent demands for infantry fighting vehicles and armored cars.
Spotting the money pit, defense contractors swarmed like flies, lobbying hard—and in this brutal disarmament era, it even nudged defense spending up a bit. The firms invested in The Sun must be toasting now.
"I've got a new gig! Thanks a ton!"
Chaffee grinned ear to ear, volunteering to lead the division's first steps. Dream come true—he was thrilled.
Patton was itching to join too, but no dice.
Regrettably, Patton was stuck in cavalry a few more years. Finish Leavenworth first, buddy.
The reason their fates swapped was simple.
- All officers assigned as instructors at Leavenworth from 1919 to 1921 are deemed to have graduated.
Nona McNeir benefited from the new rule, but tough luck for Patton. Follow procedure. Haha!
"Junior."
"Still sore about it?"
"Nah, not that... You okay?"
I wasn't dumb enough to miss the concern in Patton's gruff tone.
I couldn't exactly say, "I'm totally screwed," could I?
"We squeezed more budget out of them—who's gonna complain?"
"Fair point. Heard you're applying for overseas. Safe travels. By the time you get back, I'll be in armor—don't fall behind and regret it! Hoo-hah-haha!!"
Yeah.
I couldn't exactly say, "I'm fleeing abroad because I saw the top dog's crush burning hot with my buddy, and I'm scared of getting collateral in the bloody revenge,"—too wordy.
Especially since that top dog was the type to ditch his girl for others but act betrayed over his little sister. No way I'd spill that.
"Safe trip. Wherever you're headed."
"What could go wrong? Don't worry."
We parted promising to meet again, and I saw Marshall once more.
"Eugene Kim."
"Yes."
"You... you've stirred up... another massive mess. General Pershing himself assigned your next duty. Did you do something to offend him?"
What?
Marshall's reaction today was way off from what I expected.
"You wanted Philippines, right? Denied. You've got a unique mission."
"What's that? You're scaring me."
"For friendly ties with foreign nations, Major Kim, you'll spread our advanced armored warfare knowledge and build goodwill."
Wordy way of saying: be a salesman. Go sell tanks.
Might not be payback. I was the perfect fit—world's top tank expert, knowledgeable, sales-ready. Eugene Kim for the win.
What we'd sell now: M1917s that conquered WWI battlefields. Buyers? New nations from Versailles: Czechoslovakia? Poland? Europe sounded good.
"You're going to Japan."
"Pardon?"
"Japan, son—Japan! They sent another passionate invite. Take a few years' breather."
Japan Japan Japan Japan Japan...
Echoed in my skull.
No, wait—not fucked.
Two years ago, during the Wilson hit, Japan was hell's maw.
But now?
Dr. Park was my guy, running Shanghai's provisional government, growling at Japan publicly while secretly high-fiving. Solid setup.
Just visiting Japan wouldn't spark disaster. And tightening the leash on Dr. Park solo? Not bad.
"Navy—no, higher-ups requested it."
"Higher-ups...?"
"Washington's hosting powers for naval disarmament talks. But Japan's intentions are murky."
Marshall's sharp gaze pinned me.
"Heard you're connected to Togo Heihachiro. They want you to gauge their motives."