Chapter 95
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 95
Chapter Title: House of Cards (4)
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1920.
The era when Babe Ruth began his rampage and Jack Dempsey reigned supreme as the heavyweight boxing champion.
By the time I realized I'd been living as an American long enough to get over the shock of Dempsey not using the Dempsey Roll.
What awaited me was Leavenworth, little more than ruins.
"Surprisingly, this is after we've done some tidying up."
"This is it, huh."
"As you know, when the war broke out, the school was practically abandoned. We had to rebuild everything from scratch, and among the people who came for lectures, there were even former slaves... ahem, folks assigned to normalize administrative tasks."
McNair glanced around the office as if reminiscing about the war.
It wasn't for nothing that guys like Drum or McNair had been assigned here once the war wrapped up.
This place was practically like it'd been vaporized by a nuke and rebuilt from the ground up.
"And we bear the critical mission of urgently incorporating the lessons from the Great War."
Yeah. That's probably why they sent me here.
"Now, I'd like to hear Captain Kim's thoughts. What do you think the future of tanks holds?"
"Well, I'm no fortune-teller. How should I know?"
"We have to pay close attention to the opinions of the man who conjured the Armageddon Report."
McNair said, smoothly running his hand over the desk in front of him.
"I won't go blabbing about it anywhere."
"I've heard you're quite the expert in gunnery, Major McNair."
"Ah, yes."
He nodded at my somewhat out-of-left-field comment. As expected from someone so confident in his field of expertise.
"If there's a way to boost artillery's mobility and protection, would you be open to adopting it?"
"Of course. ...You're talking about the British Gun Carrier form of the Mark tanks from the Great War, aren't you?"
"Exactly. It uses the same or similar chassis as a tank, with a field gun mounted on top. We could call it a... self-propelled gun, for lack of a better term."
"Self-propelled gun."
"Not just field guns—even just mounting mortars that soldiers grunt and haul around on vehicles showed great results. Engines and vehicle tech will advance by leaps and bounds from here, and folks will want to slap engines on every weapon imaginable."
"If we mechanize, we could deploy more powerful guns faster and evade enemy counter-battery fire more easily. Who wouldn't want that if it's possible?"
"Precisely."
Yeah. Even the lowliest grunts would rather ride two bits to hell than march if they had the choice.
But full motorization and mechanization for the entire force? A pipe dream. Washington D.C. is obsessed with slashing military budgets right now.
"Tanks will evolve further, and their roles will expand massively, making them useful across all kinds of battlefields. They could support infantry, break through enemy lines, or even replace towed artillery."
"So, more tank variants."
"Of course, the best is a single, versatile type. Every new variant explodes logistics demands."
I'd already torn my hair out over supply issues more times than I could count.
I suffered less only because I had the miracle chief of staff, Omar, by my side. In truth, our supply headaches were way worse than other units.
I didn't pull out my pistol in Saint-Mihiel and spin like a level 6 Blade Storm berserker for nothing. Supplies were... a nightmare.
"In short, any forward-thinking commander—infantry, cavalry, artillery, engineers—will be enchanted by the roar of engines, wheels, and tracks. What can't machines replace?"
"That's what the fight's about, then."
"Yes. Colonel Drum and Captain Chaffee are both right. Tanks' advantages and potential are endless; infantry support or breakthroughs are just part of it."
So cough up more budget, damn it.
"Tanks assigned to infantry support become mobile pillboxes covering advances. But if the commander decides, those scattered tanks can mass for a breakthrough. It all depends on using them in the right place at the right time."
"Everyone's right, huh. Makes sense."
Hwang Hui's logic never fails!
This is right, that is too. But tanks are limited. So use on-site judgment wisely. Q.E.D. Done.
Of course, it's just dodging the issue. No better than McNair copping out because he's artillery.
But what choice do I have?
In real history, light tanks, mediums, tank destroyers, heavies—all sorts emerged before converging on MBTs like the Centurion and Patton due to tech limits.
Right now, variety is inevitable. For now.
"You... should go into politics."
"Haha. I've heard that plenty. But how's a yellow monkey supposed to win votes?"
"The Army's lucky for it. Good talk."
McNair nodded a few times, hummed thoughtfully, then said his goodbyes.
"One thing, Captain Kim."
"Yes."
"Do you think Colonel Drum or Captain Chaffee will be satisfied with this compromise?"
We once tried sealing North-South divides with political compromise, but it ended in civil war.
McNair left those words hanging and departed.
Damn, why say something so ominous?
His point—that this debate over budgets had already dug into emotional territory—made my head throb.
Needless to say, before McNair or I could even move, Drum and Chaffee were already at each other's throats over my lecture content, voices raised in a full-blown row.
"Captain Kim will surely focus on Cambrai's lessons, right? The utility of a powerfully organized armored force—that's Cambrai's true lesson!"
"Listen here, Captain Chaffee. Don't let personal feelings color this."
"What nonsense! And you, Colonel—you're so soaked in British tank water, you just want to shove these rolling fortresses up front with the infantry. Think I don't know?"
"We don't even have proper teaching materials or manuals yet. Captain Kim is just giving a special lecture on past combat experience and tactics."
"Be honest. You don't have even a shred of intent to stuff your pet doctrines into that manual and lecture on them?"
"Look here, you—!"
Aaah. Total shitshow. Shitshow.
I shot President Muir—already prepping for transfer—the most pitiful look I could muster.
Save me! You're the only one I can trust now!
"Quiet down, all of you. Why are you bickering over a chance to learn from Captain Kim's valuable experience?"
"Sorry."
"I mean, those precious tanks with the doughboys—"
"Captain Chaffee!"
"I'll be quiet."
As expected from someone who's commanded a division.
"Have some soldiers bring in more desks and chairs. Let's all listen in."
"General?"
"It's a lecture from a brilliant commander who seized victory with bold, unforeseen ideas. Our instructors should learn from it too."
No.
Don't.
Stop.
S... T... A... Y...
"It'll be a valuable experience before my transfer. Thanks."
"Ha. Haha. Got it. Haha."
And so my first lecture's difficulty spiked with Major General Muir and Colonel Drum in attendance.
Like it or not, class must go on.
Before starting, I stared at the attendance sheet and lost my words.
"I have to teach these people?"
"That's right. Isn't that why you're here?"
Ha. Hahaha.
Just laughter bubbling up. Hahaha.
Colonel Allen, Colonel Arnold, Colonel Bell, Major Brooke, Colonel Croft... an endless wave of field-grade officers.
Eldest at 54.
Youngest at 29.
Average 41.
"I'm just a captain."
"And a former acting major general who commanded a division. Get in there."
"Nooo."
The red hat days were better. Back then, I could just slam them to the mat and roll 'em till they got it. But roll these geezers now? They'd all come down with rheumatism and osteoporosis.
I trudged into the classroom like a lamb to the slaughter, utterly dejected.
I won't die easy. I'll deliver a miracle lecture none of them—Muir, Drum, Chaffee, McNair—can nitpick.
My cerebral cortex was firing on all cylinders for the first time in ages.
A lecture no one could challenge.
One that unites opponents with opposing views, blending perfectly like an Oriental salad.
Think I can't?
Don't make me laugh.
I'm Eugene Kim. First Asian one-star and President Slayer.
"Today, we welcome Captain Eugene Kim, who brilliantly led the 93rd Division through shining victories from Cambrai to Amiens, Saint-Mihiel, and Meuse-Argonne—"
Drum's intro dragged on. Guy's face screams "loves this shit."
"Give him a big round of applause!"
Clap clap clap.
Curiosity gleaming in every eye.
Leavenworth's conflicts were one thing, but I had to satisfy their intellectual hunger too.
Fail that, and it'd spread Army-wide: "Eh, that Captain Kim? Seems he ain't cut out for teaching. Geniuses are all like that, huh?"
Cornered, the old survival energy surges right on cue.
Tanks are the absolute worst topic. Like choosing between hanging and poison.
"Hello, I'm Eugene Kim. Thanks to President Muir for arranging this, and Colonel Drum for all the help settling in."
Drum's lip twitched as he fought a grin at my name. Play nice, Eugene. No more uniform-burning pranks—save that for past lives.
"Many have asked me privately: 'How did you lead the 93rd Division to success?' I figure you're all wondering the same."
Nods all around.
"Simple answer: I understood the Black soldiers."
A hand shot up.
"Speak."
"Isn't that obvious? How can you lead without understanding your men?"
"Really? Do you know what Black soldiers crave on the battlefield? Why they fight? Their desires, strengths, weaknesses. What promises ignite their will to fight? What words make them want to chuck it all and go home? Do you really know?"
"A company commander might, but a division commander?"
"Because we're not generals marching to an autocrat's edict. We're leaders of a democracy, commanding tens of thousands of voters."
I slammed the chalkboard with my chalk-holding hand. Thwack.
"The British didn't understand Indians, so they brought the Sepoy Mutiny on themselves! We're no different! Those of you from coastal guards to Leavenworth—do you claim to fully understand Mexicans?"
I sketched East Asia on the board.
Philippines, Indochina, China, Korea, Japan.
"Do you understand the people of Asia—the future core of America's interests—from entirely different cultures?"
Silence fell.
Yeah. That's what I wanted.
Who said I'm just a tank expert?
Asia's my specialty, folks.
Forget kung fu master or tank guru. Remember Asian Master Eugene Kim.
"Today's lecture: We'll discuss 'Understanding Other Cultures' by reflecting on Japan—the nation we can't name outright but always flag as our top hypothetical foe in Asia-Pacific interests."
Chaffee half-stood at the curveball but glanced at Muir and sat, fidgeting.
Drum covered his mouth, deep in thought.
So don't drag me into your tank pissing match.
If a single tank "J" slips my lips today? Over my dead body.