Chapter 25. Job Change Quest
Kansas.
I'd figured I'd end up back here someday, but I couldn't stop shivering all the same.
"I should've prepared some kind of dowry at least."
"They said just show up with your body, that's plenty."
The doc had a son of his own, so I wasn't technically a live-in son-in-law, but it sure felt like we were the ones mooching off them.
Hell, I was fine with being a son-in-law, a house husband, whatever. Who in their right mind turns down a free ride in life?
Screw all the complicated political bullshit about minority alliances or whatever.
My head was squeaky clean, bleached to perfection, sharper than it'd ever been.
"Bro, how's it feel heading off to get hitched?"
"Uh... uhhh... h-heh... I got nothin' in my head. 'Cause there ain't no thoughts up there..."
"Dude's completely lost it."
Fuck off. Like you wouldn't feel the same.
It felt damn good. Fucking euphoric.
But what if I ended up like that Lotteria delivery burger set I'd hyped up in the trenches—just a greasy mess? What if she got knocked up and then some U-boat turned our Atlantic crossing into a shrimp burger special?
Thinking about it, Dorothy and I had only really seen each other during short breaks. What if while I was off god-knows-where again, some handsome blond ba—hngh.
Anyway, when I let a bit of that anxiety slip, Dorothy just stared at me like I'd lost my mind.
"Pfft. If that scared you, you never should've gone to the Academy."
"...Huh?"
"Look, of course I'm scared too. I've heard plenty about how tough it is being an army wife, always on edge, heart in your throat."
Bang!
She nailed a deer way off in the distance with her Winchester rifle as she said it.
Okay, but seriously, no shooting during deep talks. That dead deer over there? I'm projecting hard. Was that her saying, "Whine now and I'll make you just like that deer"?
"If you want, I could nag Dad into pulling strings for some cushy desk job in Washington. A lieutenant's spot wouldn't be hard to snag. But the top you crave? You won't get there that way."
"True enough."
"Then go. Come back alive. If you don't... I'll mourn in black for like five years. After that? Hell if I know."
"What do you mean you don't know?!"
"Well, if some hot, ambitious, thoughtful guy like you comes sniffing around a widow like me, who knows what'll happen? So don't come back in a box."
Seeing her bittersweet smile lit a fire under me. Yeah, I was definitely coming back alive.
The wedding was simple enough.
That "enough" qualifier? Considering it was a senator's daughter tying the knot, yeah—bare-bones.
Word spread that the eldest son of the San Francisco Kim family was heading off to get married, so a basket brigade of neighborhood uncles tagged along, plus my whole family, and a crew following Dosan.
That was just our side. The guests trying to show face for the senator's daughter? Enough to build a damn mountain.
My hand swelled up like a balloon from all the handshakes, but hey, we stamped our faces in good and solid. Worth it.
Sadly, most of my classmates—just starting their postings—couldn't make it.
Especially since so many were scattered near the Mexican border, where war drums were already beating. Slim chance they'd ride trains all the way to Kansas.
Why "most," then?
"Congrats on the wedding!"
"Wha—how the hell'd you make it?"
"The others are on semi-alert tangoing with those Mexican taco bastards, but I'm with the 21st Infantry. Used some leave."
21st was up in Washington state, the ass-end of the northwest.
"Pulled some strings to get here quick, right? Haha!"
Yeah. Our resident pretty boy—and a few pals like McNarney—had shown up.
"Congrats, you rascal. Cutting the knot sharp as ever."
"Captain Bennion."
"Hurry up and get posted, then come back."
Seeing folks I figured I'd never run into again? Pretty damn nice, all things considered.
How many of us would meet again in a few years? No clue.
After the ceremony, now officially son-in-law to Senator Curtis, with my new wife Dorothy Margaret Kim, we headed to Washington D.C.
Before reporting to the War Department, I squeezed in a three-way sit-down with Ford and Curtis.
"You want to ship out to war?"
"Yes, sir."
"Frankly, I wouldn't recommend it."
"Worried your investment might scream bloody murder on the way out?"
Ford shook his head.
"Not that. If it was, I'd have slotted you into State or the Ordnance Department from the jump."
Curtis—who usually jumped in with counterpoints—stayed quiet. Looked like they'd already hashed out some backroom deal.
"It's... your skin color."
"Sigh. Again with this shit. This damn chain's a real ball and chain."
"What? You knew and charged ahead anyway. No use bitching now."
"So what's the exact problem?"
Hell, I had a pretty good guess already.
It'd been gnawing at me for ages.
But I wanted to hear it straight.
"When you're commanding a unit, will the white soldiers even listen to you?"
"I'll make them."
"You know that road's gonna be long and brutal?"
Curtis clammed up; Ford picked up.
"War Department's split. Some see you through a racial lens. Others focus on your future."
"..."
"The future camp worries that if it takes time to whip your unit into shape—or some noisy scandal blows up—the racists will pounce. Strip your uniform, slash your evals."
Apparently, I was already a hot potato in the department.
One misstep and chop—my head rolls. Thrilling.
"Even your high-praisers agonize over it. The enlightened ones don't want to waste young talent."
"So... any compromises on the table?"
Yeah.
This was the meat.
All that preamble was just setup for their "offer."
"First option: Philippines."
"Huh."
"Not a bad garrison gig. Rack up merits, build resume, rotate back... that's the unofficial pitch."
These guys.
Not a bad deal, objectively.
But my eyes were locked on Europe. And honestly, it reeked of "yellow guy fits right in over there."
"Feels off."
"Knew it. You've already called the big European show."
Ford nodded like it was nothing and moved on.
"Second: Army Signal Corps Aviation Section."
"Pardon?"
"Aviation nuts heard about you and they're flopping like salmon. 'Our era's coming!' They're ecstatic."
Right now, even the future USAF air dominance was a pipe dream—no Air Force, barely an Army air wing.
They were glorified messengers on kites, so my prediction of brutal air wars for supremacy? They'd pray to the water gods for that future.
"Uh... what happens if I go there?"
"Pilot. Gotta fly if you're posted air-side—helps the career."
"Son-in-law."
Curtis, who'd been brooding, called me low.
"Yes, father-in-law."
"Airplanes are damn dangerous, right?"
"W-well... some risk, yeah."
"If you fly off and turn into a star up there, Dorothy'd be heartbroken."
"Uhhh..."
"Make my girl cry and I'll kill you, you bastard."
"Sorry, but aviation's a no-go. Pretend I didn't hear it."
I groveled hard; Ford chuckled.
"Already whipped? Poor bastard."
"Got a wife above my station—only right I stick around forever to serve my lady."
"Hm... aviation's out too."
Both options shot down, Ford nodded and pulled the next.
"Then it's gotta be ordnance and doctrine development—"
"No thanks."
"Won't even hear it out?"
"I'm no mechanical engineer. Just some ideas. I'd be exposed as a lightweight day one."
Yeah. Die before I go there.
Couldn't you just feel the capitalist monster Henry Ford creeping up, ready to squeeze me dry on the government's dime?
End up like a canned writer: "Next blueprint or no dinner!" Pathetic. No way. Military dumpling ending? Fuck that. Only Dorothy gets to imprison me and ration out the mandoo.
"Shame. If you picked that, I'd rocket you up somehow—"
"Not going."
"Hm. Slim pickings left. This is the last."
He pondered, then spoke.
"This one's I really didn't wanna float."
"Problematic offer, huh."
"Yeah."
He shut up again.
Surprisingly, Curtis—who knew the details—didn't prod.
What could make these two hesitate?
"Like I said, some in the department are biased against you."
"Yes."
"One claim: your loyalty's suspect."
"To a West Point grad? Come on."
This was ridiculous. Racial walls were a bitch.
"Different angle. Their logic: when 'nation' and 'ethnicity' clash, you might side against the U.S."
"...!"
Didn't expect this so soon.
Figured it'd come someday, but hitting a green lieutenant before posting? Brutal.
"Yeah. U.S. vs. Koreans—you might pick Koreans. I know better from Curtis, but if it blows up public? White House gets egg on its face."
Syngman Rhee's "that statement."
If it erupted into scandal, Wilson looks like he backed a potential traitor.
"So, how about you preempt it—prove your U.S. loyalty upfront? Final posting pitch."
"Don't tell me the offer is..."
"Tokyo."
Henry Ford sighed deep.
"Insane for a fresh lieutenant's first gig. Unreasonable. But... you're the unreasonable epitome in the Army. One of four. Choose."