Chapter 23. Fox and Tiger
“I’ve always admired you, Chairman.”
“Heh heh… Me, a mere upstart?”
“No one ever dreamed of paying factory workers five dollars a day. I believe your management philosophy is the key to repelling the reds and upholding America as the land of opportunity.”
Desperate Yongbi Euchunka mode.
Is this my true calling?
In my past life, I stuck out my neck and spoke my mind until it got me killed. So why in this life am I slinging flattery without a drop of spit to ease the way?
Feels more natural than sweet-talking Dorothy on a date. My tongue rolls smoother calling out the chairman’s divine intervention than whispering sweet nothings. What a pathetic, gut-wrenching realization.
“A young man like you didn’t spend all this time just to sing my praises. What do you want?”
“I want to feed the poor Korean immigrants in my hometown of San Francisco who’ve fallen into destitution.”
“Charity work? That’s no trouble at all. We could set up free soup kitchens—”
“Like you, Chairman, I want to teach them how to fish instead of just handing them the fish.”
Only then did it seem to click for them what I was getting at.
“You want me to build a factory? That’s a tall order. I don’t see the merit in putting one in San Francisco just yet.”
“I’ll handle the building. Just give me a little help.”
Yeah.
One by one, these seemingly random puzzle pieces were falling into place.
After a brief discussion, we drafted a contract on the spot.
“Eugene Kim shall diligently respond to Ford Motor Company’s requests and consultations regarding the specifications and performance requirements for the combat tractor he envisions—hereinafter referred to as the ‘Tank’—”
“Hold on. That clause is problematic. Let’s say, ‘Shall respond diligently to requests and consultations as circumstances permit.’”
“That’s something you’re obligated to do anyway. Think about what you’re getting in return.”
“Then if this fellow gets deployed to Panama, he’d still be obligated to consult for your company. Let’s keep it reasonable.”
I take back calling it brief.
Every word scratched out and rewritten a dozen times. Ink-soaked paper finally wore through with holes.
Anyway, we sorted it out.
1. I provide conceptual ideas for the tank I envision. (I’m no engineer, so sketches and outlines suffice.)
2. A separate corporation, tentatively ‘Ford Tank Company’, is established for tank development. Patents for the tank are filed under this entity. My father receives a minor equity stake in the company, plus a share of patent royalties separately.
3. My younger brother incorporates soon and builds the factory. Ford gets 30% equity in exchange for assisting with setup and operations.
Sorry, little bro.
But after I blabbed, “Asians see family gain as their own. I really want my brother to succeed,” it’s done.
He’s already slaving away at the barbed wire biz, but he’ll have to grind harder now.
A smattering of fine print and legalese that’d make your head explode, but boiled down, it was simple.
I’d finally get to mass-produce firearms.
Gunsmiths via father-in-law. Production lines and management from Ford, the conveyor belt kings.
I’d planned to go independent or lean on the Korean National Association, but with two heavyweights involved, it created this delicate balance of power.
Now the good, hardworking Korean Americans would toil on those belts for me, earn their pay, and look up to my family like serfs to landlords.
Yeah.
I was nuts to chase the cool factor of Thompsons.
I’d just crank out… grease guns. Fucking tons of ‘em.
“Talk with me.”
As I entered alone, someone called out like they’d been waiting.
“What’s up? I’m the host here—can’t be away too long—”
“Just a moment! A quick moment!”
Syngman Rhee’s eyes were bloodshot.
Well, maybe not that bad. But the name Henry Ford carried that much weight, huh.
Nearly dragged to the terrace for a private chat.
“What in God’s name are you doing? Senators? Ford? You’re biting off more than you can chew, young man!”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“Still don’t get it? They’re monsters. With immense power and wealth, itching to squeeze us yellow monkeys dry!”
Funny coming from the guy prowling Washington D.C. like a hyena.
Syngman Rhee, his ironclad facade cracking, looked downright pathetic.
“Listen well. The Korean people must rely on self-strengthening. You know we were dragged here for railroads and dumped at the fringes of society? It’s been less than ten years since the Japanese faced oppression too. So why drag in these titans and stir up a storm in our community?!”
“I’m a bit taken aback. Wasn’t it you, sir, who first connected me with the congressman to get me into West Point? And now—”
“That’s different! We’re sojourners. We’ll return to that land of three thousand li someday. Take what we can without debts, and go home clean. Yes, young man—why not join me in Hawaii? Park Yong-man is building a militia there. A patriotic youth like you—”
“Sir.”
I cut off his tirade cold.
Four years ago, interrupting Syngman Rhee would’ve been unthinkable.
With my backers stronger than ever, staring him down revealed just a jittery power addict, unable to tolerate cracks in his petty kingdom.
The power incarnate, master schemer, cold-blooded homo politicus I imagined? Still decades away. This Syngman Rhee was Cell before devouring 17 and 18.
Time for a showdown.
“Sojourner? That’s going too far.”
“What?”
“I’m a U.S. citizen, sworn to defend America’s peace and safety. Someone might mistake that for doubting my loyalty.”
“You…! You’re abandoning the nation?”
“Irish-Americans, Polish-Americans, Jews—they honor their roots but pledge to America. You can see the U.S. as a tool, sir, but don’t force that view on me.”
“You… you…! After I got you into that school, how dare you spout such treason! Park Yong-man awaits your help! How can you—?!”
Spit flecked my face from his rage, but my smile only deepened.
He opposed Park Yong-man’s armed struggle outright, maneuvering to sideline him. Yet here he was hawking Park to me. Hilarious.
“And you wanted me to join hands with the Japs?”
“What?!”
“That Chinese contact you set up? He’s a red revolutionary. Love for country is one thing, but partnering with communists?”
“You bastard!!”
“Hey, Syngman, what’s this?!”
An Chang-ho yanked Syngman Rhee off my collar. But he thrashed, bellowing at me.
“Dosan! We’ve been duped! This punk’s selling out the nation for personal gain! Him, his whole family—traitors! Yi Wan-yong at least sold a country that existed; this one’s hawking a nation that doesn’t!”
“Enough. Calling a fresh grad a traitor? What a disgrace.”
“Fresh grad? Him? Listen—how many vipers slither in that head of his? This punk—”
“Guards! Call the guards!”
His screams halted as Charles Curtis witnessed the scene.
“C-Congressman. There’s a misunderstanding—”
“I don’t know what’s got you so riled at my son-in-law, but this isn’t the place for it.”
“He told me since I learned well at West Point for four years, to ditch America—someone else’s country—and serve Korea.”
Ah, gotta rat it all out. I’ll grind my teeth later. Can’t let this slide.
“…I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. But leave. Now.”
“Congressman! Just hear me out—five minutes, no, three. There’s malicious distortion here. He’s not what you think. The marriage—reconsider—”
“I said leave.”
He shut up.
Then, slowly, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the sweat beading his forehead, bowed politely, and slunk away.
“Syngman doesn’t mean ill. It’s just his patriotism overflowing.”
“Dosan, you still trust him?”
“Come now, Eugene. Calm down. I know you’ve been insulted—”
“This isn’t just personal.”
Tricky spot.
Syngman Rhee had ironclad support in Hawaii, hordes of followers in San Francisco.
Even if I rightfully booted him, his worshippers would brand me traitor and come for my head.
Just do my job.
He knew full well he’d be prime suspect if I took a bullet.
One more reason to double down on San Francisco business.
Our “alliance” shattered absurdly.
And I didn’t need Syngman Rhee in San Francisco anymore. Hell no.
“The tank I envision is simple.”
Endless tracks to rumble anywhere, even shitty terrain. Speed can be slow if it adapts well.
One turret only. 360-degree rotation. Multiple turrets? Just wishful thinking for guys wanting extra Magnum sticks. Probably compensating. Why not dual-wield in fencing and bite a third?
Main gun no need for anti-tank. Germans barely used tanks in original history. Deployed way earlier here, so fire support suffices. Add MGs to shred infantry.
Slap it together like so. Easy, right?
Oh, the tech? Figure it out yourselves. How should I know?
Issue if my specs clashed with Allies’. Original tanks were trial-and-error anyway.
“If you’re right, no problem. Don’t worry.”
Henry Ford dismissed my concerns.
Chuck it in combat, lifelines on the line—they’d judge smart. Now he’d take my wishlist and prototype something viable.
Anyway, I was a shavetail now…
“Eugene. Go buy some booze.”
“Your mom.”
New gig: house guard.
Unemployed.
Bravo, U.S. Army!
Author's Note
In original history, this is the tank produced by the Ford Motor Company.