Chapter 91
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: Boardwalk Empire (4)
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"Satan's Temptation" must be driven out.
They lure the growing seeds of the United States into corruption and debauchery, wasting their lives away.
To permanently banish this demon from the United States, we must mobilize the law and coercive power, and furthermore, all citizens must steel their minds.
There are those impure elements who babble on about freedom and defend it, but those bastards are in league with Satan. They need to be beaten down together.
So what do you think this "Satan's Temptation" is?
The correct answer is alcohol, chased out of the United States based on the 18th Amendment.
But look at that logic.
Amazingly, you could slap "German spies" or "Reds" onto the subject, and it'd fit perfectly!
It was logic that would never fly in America, but thanks to the special wartime circumstances of the Wilson administration, it passed anyway.
It was the exact same logic Americans used to boot Wilson out and declare they'd had enough of him, naturally turning Prohibition from "the rational product that saved Americans from Satan's clutches" into "another shitty thing politicians cooked up to trample on citizens' freedoms."
But in politics, repealing an existing law is even harder than passing a new one. Especially if it's a constitutional amendment.
No one wanted to admit Prohibition had failed and face the music.
So they chose to ignore reality.
"Enforcing Prohibition is very easy."
"The scale of smuggling is exaggerated and has only a negligible impact on U.S. society."
"Those against Prohibition are all one type: Reds who can't live without vodka."
"Rest assured. Even if hoodlums import bootleg booze, no morally upright U.S. citizen would buy it, right? Heh heh."
No one could tell voters, "We need more enforcement squads to uphold Prohibition," or "We need to invest more budget in Prohibition enforcement." Saying that would be the end of them.
In that deliberate ignorance and apathy...
"Welcome to Chicago. There's plenty of work these days."
"Thank you. How can I help?"
"Some punk-ass bugs are eyeing our turf. Shut their mouths tight, and I'll reward you handsomely."
Alphonse Gabriel "Al" Capone had found a new job in Chicago.
"Veterans' association membership is exploding," Hodge tossed out casually as he passed by, making me tilt my head.
"Really? That's good news."
"Not really. They're probably already out of money."
"No, more people means more dues."
"Those dues are just barely keeping the lights on."
The 93rd Division Veterans' Association doesn't officially exist.
Think about it. A Black unit sticking together like a band of brothers after discharge?
- Citizens! Blacks are always on the lookout to rape white women and establish a Black nation on this land!
Believe it or not, that's real.
Setting aside the rest, that infamous KKK propaganda film The Birth of a Nation is exactly that. Evil Blacks oppress the gallant Southern heroes and their women to plot a Black nation, only to get justice served by the KKK in a heartwarming tale. But since Blacks are dumb, making the villain a white mulatto is the perfect cherry on top.
Anyway, in this mess, founding a 93rd Division Veterans' Association? They'd face not lynching, but a holocaust.
So we set up a Great War Veterans' Association first, then ran the 93rd under it, divided by region or original unit.
But while I'd been busy with other things, the association had apparently gone to hell.
Instead of heading home after work that day, I stopped by the association office.
"Hello. What brings you he- General Kim?!"
"That's me."
"Please wait a moment! I'll round up everyone right away!"
First time seeing this staffer, but he recognized me. Even if my war hero shelf life is up, my fame hasn't faded. Heh heh heh.
"If he didn't recognize you in that uniform, he'd be an idiot."
"Don't hit me with facts like that. I'm human too!"
Always poking like this. This guy's evolved into one who needs me looking like death to digest his dinner.
I'd taught him with all my heart to grow into a kind, upright officer. Why'd he turn out like this?
It brings back memories of playing that Tamagotchi-like Digimon game as a kid.
When my cute character evolved into an obvious monster, it left a huge scar on my young heart, teaching me that no matter how hard you try, some are meant to shine and others to flop. Sure enough, this guy's roots were rotten from the start, just like the one who botched the U.S. military government in original history-
"General? You can go in."
"Ah, yes. Thank you."
"What bad thoughts were you having now?"
"No. Just some doubts about this country's education system."
"Pardon?"
"You wanted to be a teacher too. U.S. education has a lot of problems."
Before Hodge could protest, I slipped into the spacious meeting room.
"General Kim! Long time no see!"
"Haha. I heard things were tough lately, so I came by."
"Tough? You've always helped us out so much; we're always grateful."
We exchanged pleasantries and small talk with ha-has and ho-hos until we got to the point.
"A good number of discharged soldiers have successfully reintegrated into society, and many have joined our association to reminisce and help fellow vets."
"That's great."
"Yes. They're sharing stories from Europe with nearby friends, cherishing those meaningful times."
That can't be all, or I wouldn't have heard about "problems."
"Unfortunately, many aren't doing so well."
"Like what?"
"Vets scraping by day-to-day, too broke even for dues. Some are too embarrassed to admit it and avoid us. Others are crippled and can't work. Most of our dues and aid go to them, but... it's not enough."
"Hmm..."
Tough issue.
I'm no tycoon; my funds have limits.
Maybe host a charity gala to grow a foundation?
Begging Ford for a donation might work too. Job placements would be even better.
I couldn't commit on the spot, so I promised to try and asked them to wait.
But the last story stuck with me most.
"Vets pushed to the brink sometimes make bad choices."
"Like what?"
"They turn to crime. They're already used to bloodshed. Those hands that fired at Jerries now against innocent citizens-"
"That's enough. I get it."
1920.
Prohibition era.
Obvious keyword: Mafia.
Imagining our 93rd Division vets cruising in black cars at midnight, chattering Chicago typewriters, gives me vertigo. At least our good boys wouldn't stoop that low.
"And one more thing, if it doesn't offend- about your Grease Gun."
"Please. No."
"It's being misused for crime..."
As expected.
No training needed; just pull the trigger and spray bullets. Overwhelmingly cheap too.
Perfect for gangsters, right?
My prediction was half right.
News from San Francisco made me clutch my neck.
To my brother.
You've probably heard that back-alley thugs love the Grease Gun you made...
(Omitted)
But get this—it's not even ours?]
Fakes!
Knockoffs!
These damn bastards buy counterfeits when one real one costs that much? Buy the genuine article, you fucks!
[U-Bok Washington D.C. Branch]
It finally opened.
This horrific hybrid funeral home threw open its doors in America's heart, Washington D.C.
- Since my father passed in Hanseong and I couldn't even visit, this unfilial son will hold a three-year mourning rite in the U.S. capital.
Don't ask me the logic. I don't get it either.
Anyway, that's what happened.
Surprisingly, the chief mourner was a fifth cousin once removed to my father's next-door neighbor uncle, so we were closely connected. Naturally, with such deep ties, I had to attend. Of course.
And this funeral home, packed with Oriental secrets, drew top politicians to mourn a minority star's passing and deepen understanding of the crucial Asia-Pacific culture market for America.
In short, U-Bok was mobbed.
"Hahaha!"
"Come on, let's mix a killer Kaiser Bomber shot!"
"Drink up! Here it comes!"
"One more round!"
Having a blast, huh?
Humans sure pick up bad habits fast. Forget stern politicians; show 'em a few drinking games, and they soak it up like sponges.
"Come here, son-in-law."
"Doesn't seem like a spot for me."
"Nonsense. You become the type who fits in by joining these."
Still, I'm a soldier...
True, even prominent GOP presidential hopeful Wood partied politically while on active duty. Networking at a funeral? No big deal.
"Oh, General Kim! Meeting the hero who bravely fought for America—truly moving!"
"My son-in-law's a war hero, but twice the hero at poker."
"Can't wait. Warren Harding! Nice to meet you!"
"Likewise."
Harding.
Handsome guy. Even in the 21st century, that face would've gotten him anywhere.
"Politics is ultimately understanding people. I've met many dignitaries over the years and pride myself on a good eye for them."
"As expected of someone devoted to public service."
"Haha! You're gilding my face. Reading people is simple: see how they treat the King of Hearts, good ol' Charlemagne!"
Shuffle shuffle!
Card-handling skills rival a pro gambler.
This guy's... the presidential candidate? Next president?
Am I seeing things?
The table filled with black and red glossy patterns, cigars, ashtrays, drinks, and chips set up slickly.
"Before we start, a toast to the departed."
"May God guide him to heaven's light!"
"Amen!"
"Amen!!"
One-shot.
I made it, but it's mind-boggling.
Feels like unleashing Zerg on America, but the profits are too good to pass up.
Liquor market's ashes anyway from Prohibition. Who's gonna complain if I take a bite? Pissed? Come protest at U-Bok D.C. My B.F. Grease Gun'll explain. Got a problem, human?
Mid-game, drinks flowing, Harding flashed a charming smile my way.
"I hear you've told Congressman Curtis a lot about me."
"Really? I don't know much about politics. Just shared ordinary citizen thoughts."
"That's the most important! Listening to the people! Congressman Curtis is blessed with such a reliable son-in-law."
"Reliable my ass. I was on pins and needles wondering when he'd croak."
"Puhahaha!!"
No, Congressman Curtis? Go home, Charles. Wrong spot.
We hyped each other up repeatedly.
"Shit luck. I fold. Anyway, need any help?"
"Help? I'm no refuser of good intentions, but I still want to charge ahead on my own two feet. That's the frontier spirit, right?"
"Ugh. Words like art. I'd love you in my campaign."
"Dealing with citizen-soldiers only honed lines like that."
"Wartime ranks end soon... Need a field-grade slot?"
Right on target.
June 30th, I'm back to lieutenant.
Captain the next day, probably.
Leverage Harding for major? Pointless. I'd have begged Curtis or Ford if needed.
"An Eastern proverb says early promotion brings misfortune."
"Promotion?"
"Rising high too young."
"Misfortune? Interesting."
"Congressman Harding will grasp it quickly."
He downed his drink, fiddled with cards, pondering.
"Promoted too young—arrogance or jealousy..."
"Exactly! See?"
"Haha. Everyone here knows. So you don't want higher rank."
"Army’s conservative. Post-war, I must show discipline."
"Hmm."
"And that's what citizens want from the next presidential hopeful."
Harding's eyes sharpened, but I gulped liquor and continued.
"Resetting wartime inconveniences to normal. What they demand of me, and the nation."
"Whew... Really not joining my camp? Secretary of War? I'll warm the seat!"
"Ahem. Can't give up my son-in-law. Got sons too."
"No! No, Congressman! Not like that!"
Harding's charming and witty off-duty. True winners always shine.
"Great advice. I'll use it in primaries. Really want nothing? Politicians choke like leashed dogs on debts. Can't even play poker comfortably!"
"Then, a plan benefiting us both and America."
"Listening."
"Help for discharged vets."
"Ah, yes. Our camp's prepping VA hospital promises-"
"Not hospitals. Something linked."
I clumsily gripped the cigar.
They drilled me not to smoke cigarettes here, so cigars it is, but they don't feel right.
"Propose public-benefit businesses prioritizing vet hiring."
"Businesses? Companies?"
"Yes."
"Any industry in mind? Expect backlash."
"One with public support, market fit, needs mild authority help, everyone wants but none exist."
I rolled smoke in my mouth, exhaled.
Fuck, harsh. No wonder Patton was like that.
"Know A Dog of Flanders?"
Harding blinked at my odd question.
I guarantee hundreds of thousands of Neros will vote for you. Patrasche has no vote—too bad.