Chapter 136
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 136
Chapter Title: The Fall of the Giant (6)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"You haven't crossed the line yet."
"Yes, sir."
Coolidge spoke with an utterly indifferent expression, so calmly it was almost nonchalant.
But a chill like dry ice pricking my neck made goosebumps erupt all over.
"It's a constitutional right for citizens to participate in politics."
"Yes, sir."
"But anyone in uniform can become a tyrant at any moment."
"I, of course, fully understand civilian control—"
"Chasing two rabbits is always tempting. You have the ability to do it. That's what worries me."
"Understood."
A soldier keeps meddling in politics? That'd be no fun.
That's how it translated in my ears.
Coolidge left me frozen there and strode off briskly, but I was sweating bullets like I'd been baked under the midsummer sun.
That very night, I went straight to see my father-in-law.
"Coolidge said that?"
"Yes."
"Care for a drink?"
He pulled out two glasses, poured them brimming with whiskey, and handed one to me.
Our glasses clinked, and we savored the whiskey's aroma swirling in our mouths without a word.
Not that I could tell if it was going in my mouth or up my nose.
"Coolidge reminds me of those old Roman Stoic philosophers. Utterly devoted to the ideals and norms of the Republic—himself and everyone else."
"Anyone can see that just from his face."
"Yeah. In this day and age, he's a rare breed."
My father-in-law worked his mouth for a moment, then spoke with uncharacteristic seriousness.
"I've nagged you enough already, so this is the last time I'll ask. No thoughts of getting into politics?"
"No, sir."
"No interest in grabbing a seat in Congress to back me up?"
"I'm committed to the military."
"Why? I've made my intentions clear. So let's be frank. You're damn good at politics—exceptionally skilled. So why stick to being a soldier, where the pay's crap?"
How far should I go?
Tell him I peeked into the future? That'd shatter the seriousness here in a heartbeat.
"After seeing the Treaty of Versailles, I'm convinced there'll be another great war before I retire."
"Then politics is even more the way to go. A soldier can save a million troops, but a politician can shape the United States—hell, the world."
"Just as you're running for president to become the hope for people of color, I want to be a war hero and climb to heights no one else can reach."
He couldn't continue.
We were after the same thing, just with different calling cards.
"I always asked if you had no interest in running in my district."
"You did."
"A businessman grooming a politician? That's par for the course—almost a virtue. Journalists have to stay engaged with politics and the public constantly."
"But soldiers... well, you know they're different. Look at Rome, Napoleon, or those South American countries—too many examples. The ones with more power than any politician? Always soldiers."
"But this is America. We've got Wood as an example right now. And weren't the generals the Republican Party's best buddies?"
The United States, of all places, worrying about soldiers screwing around?
Leonard Wood.
The guy who'd been a Republican firebrand general right before America joined World War I, running that bizarre Citizens' Training Camp and constantly pissing off Woodrow Wilson.
Then he strutted as a GOP heavyweight, even running for president. Lost to Harding, sure.
"Of course, generals dabbling in business and politics isn't new. But son-in-law, all those things you've pulled behind the curtain... not exactly stuff you can shout from the rooftops."
Curtis downed the rest of his drink and refilled the glass.
"Not saying you did anything wrong."
"I know. I know you're not scolding me."
"You did what needed doing. Lots of people benefited from it. But the higher you climb in the military, the more your enemies will dig up those backstage dealings. How long can you hold out?"
Edgar Hoover was already sniffing around my operations.
Maybe my face stiffened too much, because my father-in-law chuckled.
"Think of it the other way around, kid."
"The other way?"
"If that stickler for rules, Coolidge, really thought you were up to dangerous shit, you think he'd let it slide? Just look how he handled one rogue colonel."
Huh. That made sense.
"You haven't crossed the line" was his way of giving me a pass. A guy that rigid wouldn't punish someone who hadn't broken the rules... it'd violate his norms. Norms fault. Better stop there.
"He probably didn't like Wood much either. To him, the Republic's rules come first—right and wrong are secondary."
The man who'd spent more years in Washington than anyone nodded firmly.
"So don't freak out. Haha."
"Come on, when the president singles you out like that, who wouldn't piss themselves?"
"Every politician fears the military. They always want it under control. And that's no exaggeration. The sword is the key to every possibility."
"Normal politicians know soldiers pulling stunts in this country is next to impossible, so they don't sweat it much. But a hardcore principled guy like him? Haha."
Suddenly, Tojo's letter flashed in my mind.
That paragraph where he bragged about the military fixing the corrupt, incompetent politicians— it twisted through my head.
The next day, I headed to Uboro at MacArthur's summons.
Yeah, time to see this guy too.
With Marshall gone, who else was I gonna vent to? Ford was awkward, but this ego machine was a media pro—conversation should flow.
"I'm attending Mitchell's court-martial too."
"Damn."
"What a dogshit situation. Hah, those thick-headed idiots are finally axing a real talent."
We spent a good while swapping stories about the Philippines and our recent doings, then I casually mentioned my brief run-in with Coolidge.
"Hah. A guy who lucked into the presidency should know when to shut up."
"Ha, haha. He's still the commander-in-chief— isn't that a bit harsh?"
"You laughing after hearing that crap? If it were me, I'd challenge him to a duel right there. Decades of service to the Republic, and that's the thanks?"
Well... laying out everything I'd done, I couldn't really argue back.
"Handling Mitchell's case left me with mixed feelings, but your story seals it."
"Seals what?"
"Politicians beg for votes—that's their job. But this 20th-century world demands real expertise. Name one politician as clued-in on the military and aviation as Billy."
"Plenty of ex-soldiers in politics."
"Not those has-beens retiring to D.C. desk jobs. If that's what counts as a soldier, they might as well seat a nutcracker. We need people who get the latest tech and doctrine in Congress."
MacArthur swirled his glass, muttering.
"Civilian control of the military is absolutely right, and as a soldier in a democracy, I'm proud of it."
"But is it right for amateurs to ignore experts? How many more lives do we bury in the next war to give politicians 'experience'? And if the experienced ones lose, do we just vote 'back to square one'?"
Beats me.
Only AlphaGo could answer that. Unless Skynet takes over, it'll be humanity's eternal homework.
"Heh heh. Then run for president! Number one, Douglas MacArthur to the White House!"
"Me, in politics? Honestly, I can't imagine doing anything but soldiering. From the day I understood the world, the Army was my only path."
Fitting for a son of Civil War hero Arthur MacArthur.
"Politics is messy... but basically, a great soldier making a great politician? Sounds good."
"Not just great—exceptionally so."
"True. So, what's the deal with Mitchell's trial?"
"It's a lynching, plain and simple. A sacrificial execution to soothe the bruised egos in the brass."
Sharp tongue on him.
Even MacArthur, who's sensitive to Army sentiment, sees it that way? Coolidge's presence must be zilch. If I hadn't been there, I'd chalk it up to two arrogant geniuses clashing egos.
Lay low for now.
I'm realizing it— that first taste was too good, got me hooked. Chopping up Wilson's head was... honestly fun.
If messing with public opinion as a soldier is risky, just stop.
No need to touch it for a while. Watching Mitchell burn bright—if that sparks poll-pushing thoughts, I'm no better than a gambling addict.
Dunno how long Coolidge lasts, but a cooldown focusing on business and Army life ain't bad.
Soldiers riding public opinion twisting the country? That's Japan.
Amateurs gutting the military on whims? Blood and death galore.
Both critical. Life's all about balance and compromise, right?
"So, you planning to run?"
"Hell no! I'll wear this uniform till I'm painting walls with shit!"
What's with everyone?
"Fair enough. You belong in the Army. Better than groveling in D.C. for votes, nitpicking budgets while real enemies wait. Crushing foes and sending one more trooper home to family—that's the good life."
"Congressmen would hate hearing that."
Hey, I'm a congressman's son-in-law here...
Drunk on booze and his own words, MacArthur ignored my gripe and kept ranting.
"They deserve the hate. Congress is all demagoguery and lies—personal wisdom and conscience? Powerless. Is that justice?"
"Sounds elitist."
"Nonsense! I truly cherish democracy. Just think those who see farther have greater duties."
Those who see farther bear greater duties.
Yeah. Let's stop at that. Elitist enough to pass as Spider-Man knockoff Confpipe-Man.
Please don't stir shit or go rogue. Yeah? No tanking protesters. I just swore off grandstanding—no Tank Man for me.
Can I really quit politics with this walking nuke around?
Regret and doubt bubbled up like a hot bath in the local steam house.