Chapter 134
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: The Fall of the Giant (4)
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So, what’s the first thing you do when you get deployment orders?
Obviously, report to the wife first. I had to let Dorothy know I’d been ordered on a long nationwide tour.
“I see. At least it’s domestic this time, not across the ocean. That’s a relief.”
“R-right?”
“Don’t worry about it. Really. Just knowing you won’t die is honestly a bit reassuring. I was wondering why you were suddenly on your knees like that.”
“Did Daddy do something wrong to Mommy?”
“No. I’m just praying to Mommy like I would at church. Go inside! Quick!”
The kids might pick up on something weird.
After confirming Henry had scampered back to his room, I grabbed her hand and awkwardly mimicked the charming smile Harding had taught me.
“Did you smoke some opium or something? Why are you doing something you never do? And what’s with that weird expression?”
“N-no, it’s not that.”
And just like that, my efforts were shut down in an instant. Eugene’s feeling down.
“Want me to pick up a souvenir or something on the trip?”
“Souvenir? Dad and I do need something.”
“What?”
“A baseball team.”
A baseball team? Should I buy the Giants? Maybe I should’ve named my daughter Lotte after all?
Of course, she wasn’t literally asking me to buy a baseball team. I knew exactly what she meant, and that was the problem.
I’m thirty now. Not at an age where I fear the nights, and heck, if I just... Ahem.
“Dad’s dream is to have enough grandkids to form a baseball team before he dies.”
“W-wouldn’t that be... inconvenient? Isn’t having kids super tough?”
“I’d love two more, actually. With just two, they’ll be so lonely. And... it makes me anxious too.”
“I’ve always felt bad about that.”
“If you feel bad, then step it up. Don’t make me bring it up every time.”
The conversation veered off strangely, and I realized I was unconsciously thinking in 21st-century terms.
It felt like just yesterday I attended Ike’s firstborn’s funeral. To Dorothy and people of this era, having only two kids total must seem so precarious.
And out of nowhere, an image flashed of the King making a super sour face. That guy had seven kids combined, I think. How can a proper U.S. Army officer lose to a seal in that department?
Alright, let’s make a baseball team. I won’t stop until she says no more kids. I repeat, I fear nothing now.
No sooner had I boldly declared I feared nothing than I had to meet a flustered Bang Jeong-hwan and a pale-faced Yusin.
Yusin, who’d been thumping his chest saying the foundation was set and they could run it themselves, was in quite the pitiful state.
“What now! I served it all up on a platter and handed you the spoon! What’s the problem?!”
“It’s settled on my end. Dirty tricks and bizarre solutions no one else can imagine? That’s our family’s specialty in your field, no question.”
Look at this punk? Listen to that attitude.
But a good head of household and reliable big brother has the magnanimity to comfort such a pitiful little brother.
“Fine. Truth is, my brain works best there anyway.”
“That’s why I came to you, isn’t it?”
Yusin glanced at Bang, who quickly spoke up.
“Our first expansion pack—the next product—was being prepared with Egypt as the backdrop, just as you suggested.”
“And?”
“A statement was issued recently.”
What statement now?
Yusin handed over a newspaper clipping he’d saved, and it was from some YWCA or Christian association calling our card game ‘anti-Christian’ or some nonsense.
“These guys call everything anti-Christian anyway? I’m scared they’d call Jesus himself a tool of Satan if he came back.”
“That’s true, but—”
“Crosswords are Satan’s playthings, so what’s our game? Fine, let’s be Satan. Where’s a Satan who only takes a few coins instead of souls?”
Play hard, and kids learn numbers and letters. What Satan invests in education like this? Better curriculum than summer Bible school. Aren’t we losing money here?
“We can’t just laugh it off. Those people are parents. Whose wallets do kids’ allowances come from?”
“Our Yusin’s all grown up, thinking that far ahead.”
“Come on. Don’t give me that proud dad smile now. Got any killer countermeasures?”
“Countermeasures? Sure. Bottom line: the core excuse they’re using to bash us is that ‘anti-Christian’ crap. This is a battle of pretexts.”
I looked at Bang and said,
“How far along is the expansion pack?”
“New cards are in testing, and now we just need to overlay the story.”
“Egypt backdrop? Easy. Borrow heavily from the Exodus in the Bible for the story?”
“Pardon?”
“There’s your ad hook: ‘My kid who only played games is now reading the Bible~’ How great is that.”
His face screamed it wouldn’t cut it. Time for some tweaks.
“Borrow the story, and those short card descriptions? Mix in code-like numbers.”
“Right.”
“No issue for gameplay, but curious kids—mostly consumers—will love cracking secrets and flipping through Bibles. What do parents say then?”
They’ll be thrilled if kids memorize scripture.
Those determined to hate will find other reasons, but shutting them up temporarily keeps business smooth until the Depression hits.
Everyone’s chanting ‘Depression, Depression’ like a mantra lately, but it’s true. When it comes, most hobbies dry up. No joke—our cards will be the cheapest fun around.
In an era where buying toys or dolls makes hands shake, hand a kid on the verge of tears a pack or two, and parents won’t badmouth us.
I sighed at their Satan-minion stares and asked Yusin,
“While you’re here, update me. How’s the aircraft manufacturing prep?”
“Prep? It’s a joke. Just engineering grads with handy skills, aviation school alums, Ford folks, and industry drop-ins tinkering around.”
“That’s enough. No real production capability yet, right?”
“Obviously! It’s embarrassing to call it a lab—it’s a club. Don’t expect much.”
I’m not expecting anything, punk.
It’s plenty for now. No need to expand.
Let’s just hold our breath till the crash.
As long as we don’t get swept away by that monster storm, we’re winners.
Snag a decent aviation firm on the cheap? Huge win. Watch stocks tank.
They say you see what you’re looking for.
Hyper-focused on the Depression, everything looked like a precursor to me.
New President Coolidge’s policy was crystal clear.
“I’ve inherited Harding’s seat. I respect his will.”
True to his fame for silence, his words were short but never off-track.
And this firm direction pissed off my father-in-law.
“Thought a new president might change things. Damn it.”
“What happened?”
“Vetoed the McNary-Haugen bill.”
Sorry, I’m a soldier, not a politician? Explain more.
“You don’t know that?”
“Military-related?”
“Not taking your Kansas seat?!”
“Why me?! I’ll stick to soldiering!”
“No one to trust... It’s farm relief.”
The Roaring Twenties didn’t shine on everyone.
Coal strikes ended in military crackdowns; farmers faced killer low prices and deficits outside a few sectors.
Yet no Red revolution because everyone shared hope: work hard, grab that light, soar.
“US MILK helped dairy some, but it’s a drop in the bucket. Farms are collapsing; without federal bailout, U.S. agriculture’s done.”
“I see.”
Sorry, sir. Not my field.
Sounded like Korea’s rice purchase quotas or subsidies, hotly debated in Congress.
“Hoover, that bastard—”
“Hoover? Edgar?”
“Who’s that? Commerce Secretary Herbert Hoover. Manhattan lackey. Wilson alum turned parasite—must be capable.”
Hoped it wasn’t my friend. Awkward if so.
This Hoover’s the next prez who tanks in the Depression, right? Yeah, beat my father-in-law and win. I’ll cheer. Need card packs? I’ll make a legendary [Dark Pharaoh Hoover].
“Businessmen, financiers, and lackeys block farm relief regardless of party. They’re blocking vets’ bonus too.”
“Bonus? Now we’re in my wheelhouse.”
“Yeah. Coolidge vetoed both! Same-party infighting, calling each other Reds. Isn’t Manhattan tax still tax?!”
Post-Harding, Curtis rallied support, pushed the bills again, even got majority.
But Coolidge, vowing to uphold Harding, steadfastly vetoed both.
“Why block vet bonuses?”
“Early payout means tax hikes. But Coolidge and Treasury eye cuts instead.”
Taxes again.
Harding-Coolidge staple: tax cuts for rich and corps to boom economy, rake more revenue. Tried in Korea? Didn’t work great?
Frustrating knowing the Depression crash, but what can you do?
No bills means Bonus Army riot unchanged years later.
MacArthur’s lifelong black mark: troops gunning down vets.
Hope nothing happens.
And failing on these bills tied directly to Curtis’s presidential bid.
He’s Kansas ag congressman.
Farm votes first; means crossing Wall Street and Detroit finance/industry.
No wonder the awkwardness at our first meeting with Ford prez and him. Worlds apart.
Ford’s probably toasting with Ezell now. Foiled the dirt-diggers’ tax plot. Dance of joy.
But these cracks in the vulnerable giant snap one by one, toppling it.
What can I do? Spam? Yusin’d can me first. He’s busting ass for our genius teacher; call him for canning too?
Checked: No Hormel on NYSE yet. Grabbed Coke instead. Cash out in years, fine.
I grabbed father-in-law last.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“Eastern proverb: Flowers don’t bloom red ten days straight; power doesn’t last ten years.”
“So?”
“How long this boom? Forever?”
Party elder, he got it.
“It’ll peak eventually?”
“Not just peak. Installment-debt fueled boom. Vertical drop.”
“So don’t run? But crisis is chance for achievements, reelection.”
No, overcoming crisis? Reelection easy.
But not that level.
“Not just crisis? Disaster four years can’t fix? ‘Colored prez ruined country’? What then?”
“No run, Coolidge reelected or Hoover. Both too Manhattan cozy. Bills show farms ditched again. Makes me want to run more.”
“Father-in-law!”
“Last chance, son-in-law. No more dissuading.”
We’re screwed.
Barring primary loss, Curtis runs.
Pray Coolidge wins, then.