Chapter 48
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: 93rd Division, Ignition (1)
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One of the leaders of the American Black community, W.E.B. Du Bois, had been looking forward to today's meeting.
"Pleased to meet you."
"I've long heard of your reputation, Congressman."
"Haha. Your fame is what shakes the entire world."
Congressman Curtis exchanged a light handshake before taking his seat.
"Time is money. Let's tie up the urgent matters first."
"Agreed. I hear your son-in-law has been assigned to command the Black combat division this time."
"That's right. Mind if I light up a cigar?"
"Please do."
Curtis took a deep drag on his cigar and let out a long sigh.
"Blacks, Indians, Asians. It's a real melting pot of races."
"Until now, both Washington and the military have insisted that Blacks couldn't be used as combat troops. First, I want to express my gratitude for stepping up to the plate."
"It wasn't me. That damn son-in-law of mine did it on his own."
He already knew the situation through urgent telegrams.
All or nothing.
Everything or nothing.
He knew his son-in-law's ambition to rise to fame through military merit, but he never imagined he'd go all-in on a gamble like this.
Curtis, who had even wondered if Pershing was trying to cut Eugene down, refocused on the man before him.
"From the Black perspective, this is a golden opportunity that won't come twice."
"I agree. We absolutely cannot let it slip."
"For now, let's concentrate all our efforts on the 93rd Division. Getting a chance to even shed blood is a completely different matter from not having one at all."
The situation was already moving at a rapid pace.
The most urgent task, naturally, was dealing with the massive purchase requests Eugene had sent.
"They're sure to mess with supplies. The U.S. forces here are so short on gear that they're begging the Brits and French anyway. Even if you have to dip into my personal funds from back home, please send them first. I'd be grateful."
Starting with 30,000 Grease Guns and ammunition—the sheer volume made it clear to everyone that Eugene was dead serious.
At the meeting between Eugene Kim's father, Henry Ford, and the three of them, they fully agreed to do whatever it took to expand the 93rd Division's standing.
The Black division was just the beginning.
A half-baked division that hadn't even been properly assigned an artillery regiment. Through backchannel contacts in Washington, talks were already starting about absorbing or integrating the 92nd Division, another Black unit.
At the very least, they needed to form a Black corps. If not, they had to achieve at least mixed Black-White operations in this war.
'Will getting tangled up with Blacks cause problems down the line? No, we're past the point of thinking like that. Damn it. If my daughter cries, I'll really kill him.'
Everything depended on the momentum.
Only the results would prove everything.
Saint-Nazaire.
Almost every U.S. soldier sent to Europe sets foot in France through this port without exception.
This time was no different.
As the officers dispatched for the new unit organization finally disembarked from the transport ships, the unfamiliar streets of France welcomed them.
"Whoa..."
"Is this France?"
"What an exotic vibe."
The older ones were lost in thoughts of the battlefield ahead, staying silent, but the young new lieutenants and captains chattered excitedly without end.
The real talents had already been scooped up by Pershing for the American Expeditionary Forces, or were back home training to develop new ones.
So most of these were fresh college grads full of youthful vigor who had never even considered becoming soldiers until recently.
To defend freedom and justice against the clutches of tyrannical imperialism! A quiet flame of zeal for the battlefield and firm conviction burned in their hearts.
"U.S. officers! Move out swiftly as soon as you're off the ship!"
"Assembly! Assemble!!"
Following the guides, they were led to their barracks.
"You'll rest here for a few days before heading to your assignments! Now, I'll brief you on what to keep in mind while staying in Saint-Nazaire!"
A few soldiers began handing out simple guide sheets to the officers. The papers were packed with must-dos, basic French phrases, and tips for handling trouble—real practical essentials.
"Prostitution! Absolutely no prostitution! On leave, plenty of you will be itching to hit the red-light districts, but General Pershing warned that anyone caught there, or anyone hospitalized and diagnosed with an STD, will be stripped and thrown into the Atlantic! Do not—absolutely do not—go! MPs are patrolling!"
"Fuck, they say no?"
"We held out on the ship and now we can't even go here?"
"Shut up, you godless bastards. You'll die if you don't go?"
After that quick orientation, the loud guy up front announced the next part.
"Uh... next, someone else will come in to give you all some good words of wisdom."
"What?"
As everyone wondered, a new figure entered, and a hush fell over the room.
A brilliantly shining colonel's insignia.
Clearly high-ranking, but his face looked incredibly young. Almost their peer, right?
And the skin. A subtle yellowish tint.
Putting it all together, there was only one conclusion.
"Major Kim?"
"The hero of Cambrai?"
"But that's a colonel's insignia? Did he get promoted again while we crossed the ocean? Skipping lieutenant colonel?"
"Attention."
As he spoke, even those whispering to neighbors snapped forward, straightening their backs in unison.
"I'm Eugene Kim. I graduated from West Point in 1915 and was commissioned, participated in the Pancho Villa punitive expedition and got promoted to lieutenant, and now... I've been saddled with this heavy colonel's rank."
"......"
"You've probably all come here after going through the training system I set up. Training all those college students and hot-blooded youths at the camp, I was proud all over again to realize just how many passionate patriots our United States has. I sincerely welcome you all for coming to distant Europe for freedom and justice!"
Clap clap clap clap!
He clapped, and everyone joined in enthusiastically.
"Freedom! And justice! Countless nations in this world, but these words truly exist only in the United States! Which civilized country would fully accept me and entrust me with such a heavy position and responsibility?
The British would use me as cannon fodder. The French would've tossed me into Vietnam. Germans? No way they'd let me live! Only the United States recognized my abilities and put me here! Oh, United States, land of the American Dream!!"
"Woooaaahhh!!!"
The deep longings in their hearts.
Battlefield, victory, merit, honor, and promotion!
A peer who had seized it all roared like a lion, pouring oil on the flames in the youths' chests.
"And now! I'm here to offer you all an amazing opportunity!"
All eyes focused on him again.
"Gentlemen. Two officers were each assigned soldiers to train. One got sturdy, strong men; the other got fearful weaklings. Both trained diligently and turned their units into mighty warriors of the U.S. Army.
So, which officer do you think accomplished the greater feat and earned more recognition?"
"The latter!!"
"Correct. Undoubtedly, the latter did the harder, tougher job. And right here, I'm proposing that very hardest task to you all."
Eugene Kim leaped off the platform and strode right up to them, shouting passionately.
"Right now, on this French soil, there are brave Black soldiers who crossed the mighty Atlantic flying the Stars and Stripes! They had every chance to think 'the white man's war is none of our business,' but reformed in the name of God and the United States, they chose to sacrifice themselves for freedom and justice!!"
"Blacks?"
"Niggers...?"
"You there!"
Eugene pointed at a lieutenant standing ramrod straight right in front of him.
"Yes, Lieutenant—"
"Skip the name and rank. What did you do before enlisting?"
"I wanted to be a teacher!"
"A teacher! Excellent. Why pick up a rifle instead of the chalk?"
"To protect my family, my country, my freedom!"
"Exactly. The lowliest, most suffering people in the Union right now rose up courageously with nothing but the resolve to save strangers! As someone who wanted to teach, do you have the confidence to turn ignorant, dull souls into true warriors of the Union?!"
"I do!!"
"Good! Will you join me in taming the strongest soldiers in the best unit?!"
"Just give me the chance!"
"Not 'give it a shot'! Say 'I will' loud and clear!"
"I will!"
"Excellent. You've seized the greatest opportunity. With this Eugene Kim, only you can grasp the worst moments, the worst battlefield, and the greatest glory!"
As Eugene waved his arm, waiting soldiers began handing out new application forms.
"93rd Division... assignment application?"
"A place only those capable of turning the supposedly inferior, weak, worthless soldiers into the finest fighters can apply! A place where you can proudly shout before God, 'I have saved the one lost sheep more than the ninety-nine safe ones'!
If you lack confidence, if you're cowardly, if you prefer stability over challenge—return the forms right now without hesitation! But!!"
The lieutenant who had just said he wanted to be a teacher filled his out without a second's pause and handed it to Eugene.
Eugene snatched it in his left hand and thrust out his right.
"Welcome to the 93rd Division, a place for the absolute best of the best. Now, let me ask—who are you, and where from?"
"Lieutenant John R. Hodge! From Illinois!"
"Good. Forget lieutenant. You're a captain as of today."
The two clasped hands firmly and shook vigorously.
Hodge's face was flushed with joy and emotion.
"Gaaahhh!!"
"Feeling queasy, sir?"
"No way. Ugh. Haven't eaten, but my stomach's full! Kahahaha!!"
I gave the driver a casual reply and fanned myself with the thick stack of papers clutched in my hand.
Look at this fat pile of applications.
Just stroke their pride a little, and they bite hard, signing up to prove themselves. So many of them.
This land has no cult recruiters, no psych test pushers, no creepy uncles offering star and Dia CDs for academy sign-ups at elementary schools. Embarrassing how they all fall for this basic ego bait hook, line, and sinker.
General Pershing said I could freely take volunteers without coercion. So of course, I "persuade" without laying a finger on them.
The units losing a bunch of officers overnight might froth at the mouth, but what can they do? If they're jealous, they can persuade like me. No intention of letting any go.
Man, pushing this good deed so hard wrecked my throat. Haven't yapped this intensely in ages—it's exhausting.
A yellow monkey with zero connections must've agonized over how to recruit officers. How many snickered behind my back seeing me spam letters to West Point buddies?
But who needs connections? I guarantee digging potatoes in a field is harder than snagging officers in Saint-Nazaire. Potato farming's trickier than this.
A few more solid farming runs, and the officer corps is complete.
Personal weapons and tanks are crossing the ocean.
Begging friends even harder.
Supplies? Brandished a pistol and threw a fit a few times—no more discrimination.
Now, time to turn those Black sheep into soldiers.