Chapter 81
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Killing the Dove (3)
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My throat was parched, so I gulped down the tea from the cup. It had gone cold long ago.
Kim Kyu-sik and Won Ae-guk hadn't even touched theirs.
More accurately, they weren't in the right state of mind for it. Not now, anyway.
"We were never even considered from the start."
"In a meeting where the victors are divvying up the spoils of the vanquished, do you really think demanding the winners empty their pockets too would fly?"
After agonizing over it for a while, he suddenly lifted his head.
"Thank you for your wise words."
"Are you heading back?"
"Yes. I have to. To Paris."
So it had come to this after all.
But what came out of Kim Kyu-sik's mouth was different from what I'd expected.
"I know how harsh the world is. But those victorious nations do call themselves democracies, after all. If we make a sincere appeal, there must be citizens out there who'll feel revulsion at the hidden atrocities being committed somewhere."
"...That's true."
"Democracies are supposed to reflect the will of the people. Even if the high officials in Paris ignore us, if our cry gains even one supporter, I'll gladly shout for Korea's independence at the top of my lungs in Paris."
A battle for public opinion.
That was probably the only card a independence activist of a fallen nation could play right now.
I couldn't help but admire that unyielding, noble resolve.
"I understand."
"May I ask one more thing?"
He asked me, and I nodded.
"Will you obey President Wilson's orders, General?"
"Are you telling a soldier right now to defy a direct order from his commander-in-chief?"
"You're right. That was out of line."
"All I could do was ask to delay carrying out that order... just a bit."
"Delay it?"
"Yes. A year or two from now, maybe. Who knows? Diplomacy changes on a dime—my Japan trip might fall through anytime."
Or the administration might change, and the new head of state could cancel my orders to go.
As I said that much, Kim Kyu-sik's lips curved into a faint smile.
"So you're not thrilled about it either, General?"
"Didn't I say? Korean blood runs through my veins, and before I entered the academy, I had a truckload of Japs missing teeth thanks to me."
"Haha! Lucky in the midst of misfortune. To be honest, I was trembling in fear that you might not care at all about the plight of Koreans."
I'm not that heartless.
I just don't want to let go of what I have in my hands. And rather than me jumping into the independence fight right now, it'd be far more helpful to the Korean people if I joined the Pacific War.
Of course, if they heard my story without knowing the future, most Koreans would think the same.
Tell them to hold out 20 years and Saint Truman, Saint LeMay, and the Holy Spirit Fat Man will descend, mushroom clouds will bloom over the islands, and the peninsula will be liberated? They'd brand you a autonomist and shoot you on the spot. Insane.
"As I said earlier, world diplomacy is ultimately just squeezing and extorting other countries for your own gain, dressed up a little elegantly."
"That's certainly true."
"America's core sphere of influence is the Pacific and China. If that's threatened, America will pick up the stick."
He caught on immediately, without me needing to elaborate.
"Japan too, then?"
"The Japanese Empire, in their words, is riding the rising sun right now... overflowing with momentum. Where do you think they'll pour it?"
"Manchuria. And further into China."
"Still a ways off. At least 10 years, minimum 20. But before I retire, those two countries will clash in a fight for survival."
"Then I'll wait for that day to come."
Won Ae-guk, who had been listening quietly from the side, finally picked up his teacup.
"May I ask something too?"
"Go ahead."
"What do you see in Vietnam's future? I mean, what will France do?"
"The French sometimes fight for face over profit."
My medals prove it. Look at that pure symbol of screwing over the Anglo-Americans.
"But France is clearly declining. They won this war, but they couldn't have beaten Germany alone."
"This time, you mean."
"It feels distant now, but someday France will have to choose: honorable retreat or wallowing in the mud. And the France I know usually picks the second."
"Thank you for the insight. I've learned a great deal."
I'd said it offhand, but he seemed to get it perfectly. That was pretty much all the advice I could give anyway.
As the two men showed signs of rising, I quickly went into my room and tore out two checks from my checkbook.
"Please take this."
"Wh-what's this? The amount is too much!"
"Given my position, this is all I can do to help. Paris is expensive—use it for travel expenses."
"Thank you for your help, General."
The two independence activists left like that.
When in my life would I see them again? It left a bitter taste that all I could offer for peace of mind was money.
And a few days later, Professor Kim Kyu-sik came back.
"General! General! Have you heard the news?!"
"Yes. I saw it in the papers."
The March 1st Movement had begun.
Day by day, small articles appeared in the newspapers about the civil disobedience movement on a peninsula on the other side of the world and the brutal crackdowns, and Kim Kyu-sik and the other independence activists condemned the atrocities nonstop.
Now it was time for me to pick a side.
The March 1st Movement would lead to the founding of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea, and how much I got involved would drastically change my future plans.
It was a position I'd soon have to leave anyway, but I was still a U.S. Army brigadier general. Dabbling clumsily in independence activities would just cause problems, so the safest bet was helping at the level of Irish-American supporters.
The first plan that came to mind was secretly funding Dosan An Chang-ho. Laundering money? Borrow a squad of top accountants from Mr. Ford, and it's a joke.
But An Chang-ho was one of my strongest weapons for pouring influence into San Francisco's Korean community. Handing him over to a Provisional Government that might shatter like glass was too wasteful.
To take real action, I needed to get back to the homeland ASAP. My base, San Francisco, must be buzzing over this—I couldn't stay in Europe forever. Dad was probably handling it fine, but it wasn't the same as me doing it myself.
Absolutely not an excuse to slack off.
My friends and I were drowning in endless administrative hell every day, and clearing that was my sacred duty.
"Omar."
"Yeah?"
"Why the hell am I looking up French cow prices?"
"Because our unit's truck hit a civilian's cow."
"Oh? So buying a cow fixes it? Annoying—can I just buy one with my own money?"
"What bullshit. The driver who caused the accident has to face a court-martial, we have to process the total loss on the vehicle, meet the local mayor, talk it out—"
"Aaaargh!"
"Hey! Your superior officer's running away! Grab him!"
The root problem was that no one had anticipated the war ending.
Yeah. Of course I knew.
But I hadn't realized knowing the armistice date would matter this much. Specifically, even while cursing the U.S. Army's paper plans, I'd still had some trust left in the American military.
There were no plans whatsoever.
No vague paper plan even for sending troops home if the war ended in '18.
Everyone assumed the war would end next year, even our German enemies didn't know. Who could've predicted the Empire would turn to dust like Thanos snapping his fingers?
Anyway, the AEF's stay in Europe was dragging on.
Even if there had been plans, the Spanish Flu would've kept us here. In that pandemic, sending millions back to America? I'd bet a dollar the troopships turn into ghost ships.
On top of that, the news from Congressman Curtis was giving me a headache.
- As you know, elections are coming. Some congressmen seem to want the millions of voters who might vote against them stuck in Europe. Come home safe.
With that mess brewing in the rear, demobilizing 3.7 million troops was crawling, and officers in a nation that prided itself on small government were getting burned out today too.
"Our War Department buddies calculated we can send about 150,000 home a month."
"150,000?"
"To send 1.2 million home, that's 8 months?"
"Yeah. Even excluding occupation forces, it'll take a while. And we have to pick units for the Paris victory parade."
Victory parade!
Everyone's eyes spun.
Oof, poor things. Never getting a taste of a triumph? How tragic. Oh ho ho.
The 93rd Division's chances of a second parade in Paris were too, way too low anyway.
"The 93rd will sit this one out."
"Hmm."
"You sure, Brigadier Kim?"
"Time to show the virtue of yielding."
No need to shine anymore—I figured getting my soldiers home ASAP was best.
Thus, I was steadily achieving my personal goal: exit to applause.
Meanwhile, back home, demobilization was one thing, but far weightier debates raged daily.
'What should the postwar U.S. Army look like?'
War Secretary Baker and Army Chief of Staff March proposed keeping a 500,000-man army skeleton with one army and five corps under it. If war broke out again, they could declare mobilization and field a full million instantly.
Congress didn't like it. 500,000? They'd thrived fine with 100,000 prewar.
But March was too much of a soldier for Congress's games, Baker was losing steam, Wilson was all-in on the Paris peace conference and League of Nations, barely caring about Army reform.
Pershing? He played neutral mediator instead of picking sides. Stuck in Chaumont, not D.C., what could he do?
Thus, the hard lessons from bleeding in WWI started turning to ash.
Then and now, money trumps all.
They'd probably need another world war to learn. Yeah, that's the U.S. military I know.
That suspicion of the United States led straight to the next.
What were our parsimonious congressmen—who wouldn't even fund a 500,000 standing army—doing for veterans' futures?
My answer: nothing.
They probably weren't thinking about it at all.
Especially not for my men, our black buddies.
Jobs for vets, build my base, make money?
Too sweet.