How to Spend the Winter
Unlike Montgomery, which was desperately trying to deny the fact that the situation had gone to hell, my hometown of Mississippi had a few people who could still see the writing on the wall.
Chairman Farr, who had come rushing over the moment he heard I was back, was one of them.
He looked pale, like a man who had already lost half his soul.
Of course, for security reasons, most visitors were received in a luxurious parlor I had built near the entrance of the plantation.
"Seuret, Seuret!"
"Chairman, it’s good to see you looking healthy."
"What good is health? My insides feel like they’re burning to a crisp."
"Why is that?"
"Why? Because... we are genuinely losing the war. And it sounds like we’re getting absolutely pulverized."
"It was inevitable, given that the South’s total power couldn't possibly defeat the North from the start."
In truth, I had been subtly dropping hints to those close to me that we should prepare for the future, as there was a real possibility of losing the war.
I hadn't been blatant about it, of course, but someone like Chairman Farr, who never had much interest in the war itself, would naturally become desperate to find a way to survive.
"...But why are you so calm? Does the Confederate Army still have an ace up its sleeve? You must have a secret plan to turn this war around in one stroke!"
"I’m afraid the only future I see is one where we get wiped out in a single blow. That is the reality."
"R-really?"
"Would I lie to you?"
"...Then... aren't we screwed?"
Wow, look at that clear, one-line summary.
It was the most accurate and objective analysis of the situation that could possibly come out of the mouth of a Southern planter.
"The reason I am calm is that I have already prepared everything. Honestly, what did we do wrong? It’s the higher-ups who played around and ruined the country with their incompetence."
"Oh..."
"Even you, Chairman Farr, gave such sound advice that we should rethink independence, yet you were subjected to all sorts of insults by those insane assemblymen. They didn't even treat you like a prophet who foresaw the future."
In truth, if I had been a Southern assemblyman and someone told me to delay independence because it would interfere with a horse racing tournament, I would have cursed them out for being senile.
But in the end, Farr was right, wasn't he?
The people who screamed for war became the primary culprits who ruined the South, didn't they?
Naturally, Farr knew he hadn't proposed caution out of some grand insight or vision, but he wasn't the type of person who couldn't understand what I was saying.
The positions of Mississippi State Senator and Chairman weren't won by playing marbles.
"So, what you're saying is..."
"As someone who knows the internal situation better than anyone, I will tell you clearly. This war will not last long. A war of attrition? I guarantee you, the situation is already showing signs of becoming so dire that people will say we were lucky to last a year."
"...Haa..."
"If we had fought fiercely for three or four years and then lost, that would be one thing, but if we shout for independence full of spirit only to get beaten and ruined in a year, there will naturally be a lot of talk internally. And then, the fun game begins."
"A game? A game of finding the culprit?"
"Exactly."
People have an instinctive tendency not to blame themselves when things get difficult.
Isn't that why some analysts say that 5-on-5 games are more popular than 1-on-1 games?
If it’s clearly and undeniably stuck in your face that you lost because you were bad, people lose their motivation.
It means that even if the war is lost and the South collapses, someone must be hung out to dry as a 'troll' just to keep everyone's mental state intact and to keep the next game going.
"Wait. Then there’s a problem, isn't there? Couldn't I be targeted? It’s obvious that they’ll attack me, saying that national strength couldn't be consolidated because of people like me who preached caution when everyone else should have fought together."
"Oh, that’s true, too."
As expected of someone who has been eating political rice for decades.
The moment I gave him the big picture, he immediately started identifying the risks. I like that very much.
"But that is all the more reason for you, Chairman, to make the first move. And besides, if we had fought fiercely and lost, that would be one thing, but who is going to blame whom after getting crushed in just a year?"
In a canyon, if a game turns into a 40 or 50-minute long-term battle, you can pass the blame onto a single teammate's small mistake. But if the highway is breached and the Nexus is pushed in 5 minutes, it was a doomed game from the start.
Then what is the fundamental cause?
The problem is the people who picked a doomed matchup that wasn't even a fair fight from the beginning.
"In my opinion, Chairman, there is only one thing you need to do."
"I know."
Chairman Farr, life returning to his eyes, slammed his desk with a thud and stood up.
"I must issue a statement as soon as the war ends. That the reason I repeatedly opposed the war was because I foresaw this very result. And if I counter-attack the vermin who criticized and slandered me back then?"
"You’ll feel ecstatic. Of course, they know well enough that if they lose the war without having accomplished anything, their own positions will be in jeopardy. So, wouldn't it be better to nip them in the bud before we get attacked?"
"It’s self-defense, pure self-defense."
The excuse about the horse racing tournament was just a pretext to make myself look ridiculous so I wouldn't be threatened; the truth was the desperate struggle of a sage who wanted to save the South somehow.
Chairman Farr was silent for a moment at the grand epic written as smoothly as flowing water, then whispered only to me.
"...Wouldn't it be better to pull in a few more people?"
Always so honest and straightforward. That’s why I like him.
Chairman Farr’s question wasn't simply about filling numbers; it was about whether we needed to recruit more figures with symbolic weight.
Naturally agreeing, I called Assemblyman Quitman to the parlor a few days later.
He was once the symbol of the Southern hardliners.
But after owing me his life and being disgusted by the terrorist false-flag operations of the Fire-Eaters, he had become one of my most active collaborators.
"Seuret, and even Chairman Farr. Is this a meeting to discuss the current situation in the South?"
Quitman also had close acquaintances in key government positions, so there was no way he didn't know what was going on. Seeing the people gathered here, he seemed to guess the situation, wiped the smile from his face, and sat down.
While he put a cigar in his mouth and lit it, I slowly opened my mouth.
"Chairman Farr heard it from me earlier, and as Assemblyman Quitman seems to have guessed, I will get straight to the point."
"Wait, Seuret, I can guess what you're trying to say, but it’s not over yet, is it? If we just recover Georgia..."
"Assemblyman."
I cut off his words, as he still couldn't let go of a shred of lingering attachment.
"Georgia cannot be recovered. No, even if it were recovered, what meaning would that have?"
"What?"
"The South will be smashed soon. Slavery will be abolished, and the label 'Confederate States of America' will be thrown into the trash. In my view, the worst-case scenario for the South is already a foregone conclusion."
The air in the room froze instantly.
Chairman Farr gave a bitter smile, and Quitman exhaled a long plume of cigarette smoke, his face contorting.
"You, of all people, are saying such things...?"
"I thought it would be better to tell you directly."
If I had said this elsewhere, I would have been branded a turncoat or a traitor, but since Quitman owed me his life, he tended to believe whatever I said unconditionally and then attach reasons to it later.
With Farr chiming in from the side, a shadow soon fell over the face of the assemblyman who had once been a fanatical Fire-Eater dreaming of a Southern slave empire.
"No... haa... this is driving me crazy. Does this mean it was all a futile delusion that couldn't be achieved?"
Quitman laughed hollowly, rubbing his cigar into the ashtray.
"Hah, well. Chairman Farr was a moderate from the start, so that’s one thing, but... aren't you the very symbol of slavery? You, who built the rehabilitation center and were the closest aide to President Breckinridge... will you be okay? The Northerners will be aiming for your head first."
What if they do? The President is behind me... I want to say that, but since no one should know about this relationship yet, I have to attach a suitable reason, right?
"Assemblyman, think about it carefully. Have I ever proposed something by stepping forward on my own accord?"
"...What?"
"The rehabilitation center, the peacekeeping forces—they were all things the people above wanted. Breckinridge wanted it, Davis wanted it, the Southern Congress wanted it. I just gave them what they wanted."
Quitman’s eyes wavered.
In the case of something like World War II, those who followed orders would also be subject to punishment, but this is a civil war, plain and simple.
The North, which must somehow integrate the defeated South, won't even be able to properly punish the highest-ranking officials, so would they touch the working-level staff below?
They absolutely couldn't do that, and in reality, they didn't do that in history, either.
And if, really if, I were dragged to court, the possibility of being punished was close to zero.
No. To put it bluntly, it’s just zero.
"In the first place, unlike other planters, the slaves on my plantation truly respect and follow me. No matter what happens, there will be no problem with my personal safety."
"What is that..."
"The important thing is image management in the North... I have a plan for that, so you don't need to worry too much."
If you don't understand, just memorize it.
After all, you’ve never suffered a loss from listening to me so far, but have only thrived, so it will be the same this time, won't it?
I answered their minor questions without hesitation, and eventually, Quitman nodded, saying that if this was the only way to save Mississippi, then it couldn't be helped.
Still, just one last thing.
Quitman, who had been scribbling something on paper, spoke cautiously.
"But Seuret. If slavery disappears... in the end, we will have no choice but to be a minority. They are the majority. What if they use violence? Won't we have no choice but to be pushed back? No matter how much I calculate, I don't see any way to turn this around."
"Actually, I’m worried about that, too. No matter how much we prepare politically, if we are outnumbered..."
"No."
I expected this kind of talk to come up.
Farr also had a considerable number of slaves, as befitting a successful planter in Mississippi, but if slavery disappeared, the loyal servants who would sacrifice their bodies for him would no longer exist.
That would be the same for the other side, but since this side would inevitably become the minority, they couldn't help but feel anxious.
"I understand your concern. But because slavery is being abolished, we can become the overwhelming majority."
"...What is that supposed to mean?"
"At first, we should do things nicely with words. Public opinion battles, legal struggles, parliamentary fights. But what if they judge that they are losing the public opinion battle and try to use force?"
It is a fact that anyone can clearly foresee that the Southern political scene will be a lawless zone for a while during the Reconstruction period after the war ends.
If that weren't the case, I wouldn't have needed to prepare for the future like this.
"If someone tries to threaten us with force, we have no choice. We will have to mobilize our own personal guard."
"...What?"
Quitman opened his mouth with a look that said this was truly absurd.
"Your personal guard? How can you mobilize your personal guard when slavery is being abolished?"
"Didn't I tell you? My workers respect me."
"No, that’s..."
"Whether slavery is abolished or not, my people follow me. It will work, unconditionally. Please trust me on that part. I will explain everything when the time comes."
Farr and Quitman looked at each other, laughing hollowly, neither knowing who started it.
If others had said it, they would have called it delusional nonsense, but the one saying this right now is me.
James Seuret.
"Well... if it’s you."
"Have you already recruited the black people in a way we can't imagine?"
Instead of answering, I picked up the whiskey bottle on the table and poured alcohol into three glasses.
"Then, to celebrate our alliance."
The three of us raised our glasses.
Clink.
The clear sound of glass hitting glass echoed through the parlor.
With this, I had achieved almost all the purposes for returning to Mississippi.
But at that moment.
"But you know."
Chairman Farr lowered his voice after downing the whiskey and setting the glass down.
"Don't we need some sort of plausible operation name?"
"An operation name... that would be good to have. Assemblyman Quitman, do you have a name in mind?"
I was going to make up a stylish one if he didn't, but unfortunately, Quitman raised his voice as if he had been waiting for it.
"We are standing up not for our own self-interest, but for the peace and stability of Mississippi, aren't we? Let’s call it 'Mississippi Spring,' in the sense of driving away the winter of Mississippi."
"Uh... um... that is..."
"Mississippi Spring! Good. Let’s do that!"
Chairman Farr cheered, clapping his hands before I could even finish my sentence.
No, wait a minute.
Before I could say anything, the operation name 'Mississippi Spring' was passed by a majority vote of two out of three.
"For the Mississippi Spring!"
"For it!"
Mississippi Spring, mobilizing a personal guard.
I emphasize again, this is not a coup d'état. Really.