Chapter 47
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: The Place After the Storm Passed
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“We’ll assign Lt. Colonel Kim to the Expeditionary Force Training Staff.”
“Could you say that again?”
MacArthur’s voice was thick with irritation.
But Pershing, either oblivious or indifferent to the subtle nuance, replied nonchalantly.
“Didn’t hear me? To the Training Staff—”
“This is a blatantly wrong decision, no matter how you look at it!”
Bang!
“Turning the finest field soldier into a desk jockey! I request you reconsider!”
“I believe his true value shines brightest in training the troops.”
“This... this is practically a demotion, isn’t it?”
“You seem awfully dissatisfied, Colonel.”
“Then send him to the 1st Division instead! Wouldn’t Staff Officer for the 1st Division be far better?”
“Training and education is one of the most honorable duties. There’s an opening at Benaisar as it happens, but the Training Staff would be even better, wouldn’t it?”
The atmosphere grew increasingly tense.
What to do about this.
Sure, I was sick and tired of training by now. But it was also true that a good chunk of my career had been filled with it, so I couldn’t exactly say Pershing’s judgment was wrong.
Hah, that’s exactly why I’ve been busting my ass to stay in the field.
“I also request reconsideration.”
Marshall, who had been mulling it over, finally spoke up.
“Considering the outstanding combat command he demonstrated at Cambrai, he’s a talent capable of leading at least a regiment. Personally, I agree with Colonel MacArthur’s view that his utility would be maximized in the 42nd Division.”
What the hell is this? The world above I’ve only heard about?
MacArthur and Marshall joining hands in harmony. It was rarer than Ford’s president shaking hands with my father-in-law and doing the polka.
“Is that so. Combining your opinions, he’s an exceptional talent who’d excel in any role.”
As Pershing nodded, MacArthur and Marshall voiced their agreement in unison.
As expected of God Pershing. He’d tamed those dog-and-cat-like rivals with a single “Fine, you two keep fighting, so I’ll just take him.” Turning them into friends on the spot.
With things out in the open like this, no matter where I ended up, those two wouldn’t pout or complain for a while. For me, it was the ideal outcome I’d hoped for.
From the looks of it, Pershing had never truly intended to send me to the Training Staff. So the real deal starts now.
I adopted the solemn, dignified posture of a soldier awaiting orders from above.
“Alright, let’s rethink this.”
Pershing lit a fresh cigarette.
“The 93rd Division has plenty of openings. We’ll post Lt. Colonel Kim there.”
“......?”
93rd Division?
Wait, my brain isn’t turning. 93rd Division?
Did such a division even exist?
A moment of silence.
The brief time it took for everyone to mentally flip through the yearbook searching for the 93rd Division.
Kwaaang!!
“Commander, please reconsider!”
“General! General!”
“Why send Lt. Colonel Kim to the niggers?!”
Pressed by MacArthur and Marshall’s momentum, the other officers who’d stayed silent leaped up, turning the conference room into pandemonium.
93rd Division.
A colored division—specifically, one composed entirely of black soldiers.
“Niggers have no combat ability by nature!”
“Lazy, incompetent, cowardly fools getting Lt. Colonel Kim? Might as well string pearls around a pig’s neck!”
“......”
Amid the rampaging others, MacArthur and Marshall clamped their mouths shut.
And I was racking my brain to the point of explosion.
This was a poisoned chalice.
99% chance of death if swallowed.
I’d been trying to build connections everywhere, but taking a unit like this would leave me with who knows how many threads intact.
I glanced sideways.
At MacArthur, at Marshall.
They were already staring daggers at me.
What did those eyes mean?
Dissuasion?
Curiosity?
I had no idea. My mind was blank.
In the midst of that immense chaos and shouting, I slowly rose from my seat.
“First, I’d like to hear the exact intent of the order sending me to the 93rd Division.”
“Got something in mind?”
“Grant me full authority.”
Everyone stared at me like I was insane. Except three.
Pershing’s probing gaze, as if asking what I’d do.
MacArthur’s face brimming with anticipation.
Marshall’s pallor, like he was about to drop dead.
I looked only at them, ignoring the chirping from the others beside me.
“Listen, Lt. Colonel Kim. Take a breather. You don’t need to push so hard—you’re going up anyway!”
“Right. Even for you, turning niggers into soldiers is impossible. No need for a bright young man with a promising future to take on such hardship.”
How ridiculous.
Just moments ago, they’d said “A yellow monkey can’t handle it.” Now they just swapped the subject to niggers.
Screw it.
For someone as rational and cold as me, the normal judgment was to steer clear of this minefield. But for some reason, my blood boiled.
This isn’t good. Oh man, this is not good.
“Full authority, you say. How much?”
“Personnel, administration, training, combat deployment. All of it.”
“You want the division commander spot? Well, they did step down saying they couldn’t hack it.”
“I need the division commander role, and more authority besides.”
“I’ll trust you once.”
“Commander!!”
“Their combat prowess is a mess, but we’ve never given them a real chance. If even our best talent can’t produce results, we’ll disband the unit on the spot and reassign them to non-combat labor.”
Pershing stubbed out his cigarette on the desk.
“Anything more?”
“......”
“Eugene Kim.”
“Yes, General.”
“I’m assigning you the 93rd Division, Colonel Kim. Ah, Colonel will do for now, right?”
Hellish silence.
In it, I nodded lightly.
“I’ll deliver results.”
The conference room emptied.
Chief of Staff Harbord, watching Pershing chain-smoke, spoke up first in exasperation.
“What in the world are you thinking?”
“......”
“You were the one praising Lt. Colonel—no, Colonel—Kim’s future. And now you’re throwing up this... this wall in his path.”
“A wall?”
“If this isn’t a wall, what is?”
Pershing stayed silent a beat longer, then tossed out flatly.
“That man’s wall is his skin color.”
“......Everyone knows that. But after Cambrai, hardly anyone dismisses him or judges him solely by his skin anymore. With merits like that, isn’t he an honorary white?”
“Ridiculous.”
Pershing cut him off sharply.
“During the Civil War, countless blacks enlisted in the Union Army to fight the slave states and seize their freedom.”
“......Yes.”
“But how many today remember their struggle?”
Harbord was at a loss.
“Those blacks bled for Union victory back then, but decades later, headquarters is full of ‘niggers can’t fight’ talk again. That’s reality—the truth Colonel Kim will face someday.”
Sweet, you swallow; bitter, you spit.
The eternal truth of the human world.
“Better now. If he falls here, we can brush it off as ‘Even Cambrai’s hero couldn’t make soldiers out of niggers.’”
“It’ll weigh heavy on him. He’ll feel abandoned.”
“What are you talking about? You were right there.”
Eugene Kim’s gaze upon him.
It suddenly overlapped with the moment MacArthur had sprayed the room with his grease gun.
Come to think of it, the bullet marks were still on the conference room walls.
“The killing intent was dripping off him.”
What if he really came back with the Kaiser’s head?
Pershing pondered briefly.
“Kuhahaha!!”
MacArthur burst into roaring laughter.
“Now we’re equals! Colonel!”
“Eugene. Isn’t this going too far?”
I shook my head at Marshall’s worried tone.
“Nah, come on. Everything in the world rides on momentum, right? The flow of things.”
“True. Hah. General Pershing’s insight far surpasses mine. I never even thought of the 93rd. Brilliant idea.”
MacArthur was simply delighted, but it wasn’t enough to ease Marshall’s anxiety.
“Fail to deliver, and you’re done for. You know that?”
“Let me flip it: Has my military career ever been smooth sailing?”
The quiet around me had only been spillover benefits.
Overwhelming likability.
Or overwhelming achievements.
Without one or the other, could I keep this uniform on until 1941, when WWII’s flames roared?
I’d thought to build broad networks and scrape by.
But seeing how these people treated blacks changed my mind a bit. After the war, how many would still deem me “useful”?
The report’s buzz? It wouldn’t last.
Humans forget. Unless I handed down oracles like Delphi every day, my feats would fade, leaving only skin color. Hand down oracles? Cassandra route.
So, I rolled the dice.
All or nothing.
“If anyone’s interested, send ’em to the 93rd. Could use an officer or two.”
“Heh. Honestly, doubt anyone’ll come.”
Marshall shook his head.
“Hmm... How many do you need?”
But MacArthur gave an unexpected response.
“Huh? You can send some?”
“Got a few eager beavers hungry for promotion. It’s a gamble, right? They’d run from a ‘nigger unit,’ but if Eugene Kim’s wielding the baton, some might bite.”
I was curious about black combat prowess myself.
He added as if it were an afterthought.
I hadn’t expected much, but if anyone showed interest, I’d ask them to send ’em, then moved straight to prep.
I spun around with a fake “Thanks, appreciate it,” but now that 93rd was set, their glances weren’t friendly.
The pitiful looks were better. Those seeing me as stirring shit were basically enemies.
“You want these guys?”
The personnel staff’s face filled with dismay as I barged in.
I eased his burden a bit.
“No, just a proposal. If they refuse, end of story. But I’d like to poll them first.”
“Eisenhower, Bradley, Van Fleet, Quevedo Ver, Benion, Lim... All West Point buddies. Planning a class reunion with the niggers?”
“Who else you gonna trust but friends?”
“Fine. No clue how many, but I’ll send word. Might not clear the War Department, though. Don’t blame me if zero show.”
“General Pershing said he’d back me up. That’s all I need.”
But I wouldn’t rely on Pershing alone.
I’d already wired the father-in-law and the chairman.
The War Department couldn’t block my path. It was up to their call.
The personnel staff pitied me, begging favors from classmates with no takers, but he didn’t know.
If half came, it’s Avengers assemble.