Chapter 4. Enrollment
A few days earlier, after my final acceptance was announced, a few reporters naturally showed up at our house.
And along with the reporters came Syngman Rhee, who always poked his nose into matters like this.
"You're refusing the interview?"
"Yes."
He looked flustered for a moment at my response, then regained his poker face.
"Eugene, think it over carefully. I know exactly what you're worried about. But in a democracy, the press is the greatest weapon! Giving this up—"
"If I do the interview, what exactly should I say?"
"Well, naturally—"
He couldn't finish his sentence.
And why would he?
My position was incredibly ambiguous.
In front of these independence activists, I'd preached about how a Korean-American U.S. Army officer would benefit Korea in the future.
And conversely, to Senator Flint, I'd argued the significance of an Asian-American U.S. Army officer.
I had zero intention of clumsily opening my mouth and muddying things up.
Anyway, my value would naturally skyrocket once World War I and II broke out.
I'd spout my future knowledge as if it were the fruits of my own insight, and every time my predictions hit the mark, the War Department and State Department wouldn't be able to ignore me.
Right now, with no achievements under my belt, my goal was simply to enlist quietly and safely.
"So you're planning to walk the tightrope."
"To satisfy the whites, I need to emphasize my American side. To instill pride in the Koreans, I have to package myself as the hope of the Joseon people. I can't have both."
"You really should go into politics. If you ever leave the military, come work under me. No matter what, you'll end up under me. Got it?"
Like hell I'd work under Syngman Rhee.
Even if I succeeded in the U.S. military, I'd inevitably need to dominate influence over the Korean community right in America's front yard.
That meant either joining hands with big shots like the man before me or becoming the leader of the Korean community myself... But in original history, this doctor had a glorious record of stabbing countless comrades like Park Yong-man, An Chang-ho, and the Provisional Government in the back.
But I just gave a sly smile without answering. For now, he was too useful to alienate.
This political devil interpreted my smile however he wanted and burst into hearty laughter.
"Ha, hahaha. Alright, I get it. You're saying to prove whether it's worth joining me? Cheeky."
Syngman Rhee pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to me.
"Seems someone got interested after hearing about you. Hate to deliver it, but..."
(Sealed letter envelope from An Chang-ho)
"For Teacher Unam to play messenger like this, it must be someone impressive."
"Dosan—that guy's got a mouth that spits nails like nobody's business. Here's the letter, but don't go sticking to him. You're mine. Got it?"
Dosan?
Dosan An Chang-ho?
This was unexpected. I thought he wasn't in America yet. My name must be spreading faster than I realized.
"Looks like my stock's rising again. But I'll keep in mind that Teacher Unam has the magnanimity to deliver even a rival's letter."
"Exactly! Since you're skipping the interview, I'll go play with those reporters."
He left those parting words and dove into the crowd of journalists.
The more I saw of him, the more impressive—and vicious—this man seemed.
"I've got to take him down someday..."
A sigh escaped me naturally.
"Honey, look at the paper! Kahahaha!"
"What'll that young whippersnapper do in the army..."
I was over 180 cm tall and had trained like hell to pass the physical, but to Mom, I was still a little kid.
"I'm off far away now, so you kids take good care of Mom and Dad."
"Yeees~"
With that charge to my siblings, there was nothing left to do.
Now all that remained was to board the transcontinental railroad to New York—to West Point.
"Well then, I'm off."
"Be careful. Eat well. I wanted to pack some kimchi—"
"Hey now! Those hook-noses freak out at the sight of kimchi—what kimchi?!"
"Joseon folk run on rice power, but they can't even eat rice! Without rice and kimchi, they'll be scrawny and weak—how'll they have any strength?!"
Big man in the Korean community or not, he couldn't stand up to his wife, it seemed—a universal truth.
Turning a fiery new woman burning with zeal to study modern knowledge and devote herself to Korea into a housewife... I couldn't entirely blame Dad for being a bowed-back man, but still...
"Son."
"Yes."
"Don't live like this..."
Smack! The sound echoing from my back—I'd pretend I didn't hear it.
The vast web of railroads stretching across America like a net.
My first impression of a train: pure antique.
Nothing compared to the KTX from my past life, but considering it was 1911, the sheer fact that you could ride from the West Coast to the East in one go showed this country's power.
From here, my new future would unfold.
"Huff... huff..."
After climbing a hill steep as a rock face with my massive bag for what felt like ages.
Finally, the majestic stone archway loomed over me.
West Point.
U.S. Military Academy.
1911.
I had become the first Asian cadet.
"Huh, new cadet?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Welcome to West Point. Head on in."
Yeah, just like that.
A guy who looked like an upperclassman glanced at me and gave curt directions.
Luckily—or unluckily—no one yelled, "Yellow bastard daring to enroll?! Get out of our school!"
I walked on for a while longer, passing towering monuments and Gothic stone buildings everywhere.
At last, the curtain rose on my second life as a soldier.
Or so I'd thought back then.
"Reveille! Reveeeille!!"
"Change slower, you sluggish worms!"
We fresh-faced plebes weren't even allowed in the barracks.
West Point was vast beyond comparison to any Korean university campus.
And among its wide-open fields, we freshmen pitched tents on barren plains and rolled around like raw recruits—the fate of new cadets.
They called this the Beast Barracks here, a hellish three-week initiation of nonstop abuse.
"Sniff sniff, what's that smell?"
"The stink of the shitty outside world, what else."
"You maggots! To become officers of the United States, you gotta drain every drop of that shitty society crap first! Understand?!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Louder!"
This was nothing—I'd been through it in my past life.
...Or so I wanted to say, but the military from a century ago was savagery beyond my wildest dreams.
"Spread eagles!"
"Arms dropping? Dropping?"
Stuff unimaginable in 21st-century Korea went down under the banner of "tradition"—all sorts of shit discipline and brutality.
No, even the Korean military decades ago wasn't this bad. Making guys kneel on broken glass? That said it all.
"Hey, yellow monkey!"
"Monkey thinking it can go to West Point? Why not crawl back to your Asian village?"
Of course I stuck out like a sore thumb in our class.
To these guys itching to haze someone, I was perfect bait.
First night of Beast Barracks.
I'd been singled out and was taking a hefty dose of racist bullshit from two scrawny white upperclassmen.
That's when it happened.
"The yellow monkey crap again?"
"Hey, cannibal. We're educating the plebes—why barge in—"
"One more monkey word in front of me, and I'll really kill you. Hazing's your business, but keep that racist shit in your skull."
The guy who butted in was clearly a person of color himself, and his fierce glare shut up the two who'd been so cocky moments ago.
"Fuckin' clannish pricks."
"Do what you want. Ptoo!"
Once those two assholes were gone, he finally turned to me, having stared daggers at their backs the whole time.
"Heard there was another Asian in this class, so I came to check—caught you in a rough spot."
"...Thanks. You saved my skin."
"No big deal. I'm Vicente Podico Lim, from the Philippines. One year ahead of you."
"Eugene Kim."
"As you just learned, plenty of these pricks here think pale skin's a medal."
He helped me up as he spoke.
"But no need to freak. Nobody likes a guy who pulls that crap on someone he'll see face-to-face for four years—and after commissioning too."
Not like I'd stick around after graduation, but he laughed "Haha!" with a grin.
"Let's get along from now on."
"Yeah. Thanks again."
One worry down.
West Point was way more barbaric than I'd imagined,
but it was still a place where humans lived.
Back at my tent, my classmates had already claimed spots and were bullshitting away.
"Oh, you made it back alive?"
"Yeah. Thaaanks."
"We had a bet going. Two bucks on you back in an hour, two on no, one on never."
Unbelievable.
I'd barely escaped the upperclassmen, and if I heard "yellow monkey" here too, even I'd snap—but the bet was hilariously fresh.
"So, how's my payout for option one?"
"Here."
The smirking gambler slapped a dollar in my hand.
Whatever lingering absurdity I'd felt vanished.
"I actually swept it all! Knew you'd come back."
"How?"
"From orientation, venom was pouring from your eyes. Thought, 'Mess with him wrong, and commissioning won't matter—he'll shotgun your head.'"
"Fuck, I didn't even know he existed. That's cheating!"
"We've done intros. Your turn—hop in."
Anyway, I'd made some cash and dodged racism here, so no need to sour the mood.
I sat down to introduce myself when the gambler shot his hand up first.
"Hold up. Feels like we're excluding you. We'll go first."
"Huh? Cool, thanks."
"Alright! Me first. I'm Dwight D. Eisenhower."
"Huh?"
"Name too long? Just call me Ike."
No, not that.
Who'd you say?