Operation Blue (2)

Hold on. I couldn't read Vice Admiral Lespès's real intent. What did we think of Manchuria? Just like that—out of nowhere?

"...Vice Admiral. I believe your government is laboring under a serious misunderstanding. Manchuria and Liaodong have no place in this war. That those lands are the ancient territory of our ancestors is beyond dispute—but the war we are fighting now is a war for our freedom and our independence."

I rose from my seat to set the Frenchmen straight. Plenty of men in our government went stiff at the mere mention of a Northern Expedition, or of Manchuria and Liaodong. But none of them were so incompetent that they would stand there and watch the sideshow swallow the main event.

Vice Admiral Lespès and his superior, Admiral Courbet, however, were rather more capable than I had given them credit for.

"No, Your Excellency. We understand your objectives perfectly well. Or perhaps I should say—your objective."

Rude of him. Or was it? I wasn't even sure. Either way, Lespès cut my explanation short, drew out a map entirely different from the one marked only with place names and fleet anchorages, and spread it across the table.

"Over the past three months—that is, during the very period when our home government and Korea were conducting serious discussions of an alliance—an American intelligence source stationed in Osaka learned that the Korean government has been purchasing staggering, effectively unlimited quantities of munitions and ammunition from Japan's four great ports, including Nagasaki, Kobe, and Kumamoto."

"..."

"I can vouch for the source. The shipowners and marine insurers of the United States—our other ally."

Unlike the previous operational chart, which had a single, unambiguous purpose—a joint Franco-Korean sweep of Taiwan—this map was a chaotic scrawl. I studied the thicket of arrows radiating from Japan's coastal cities and terminating at Busan and Gunsan, and I understood.

The figures written beside those arrows were, without question—

Damn. They've caught on.

—shipping dates, hours, and tonnages. These men had not come to the table empty-handed. What they had prepared before sitting down with us was no ordinary brief.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding."

I tried to wriggle off the hook first. Even with the evidence sitting right there, you deny it until you can't.

"We're paying a premium for munitions we don't have enough of. What of it? What does that have to do ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with anything? We're fighting the Qing—of course we are! If anything, you ought to be thanking your ally for taking this war seriously."

"Even if that quantity is enough to casually slice the throat of a Qing Empire already rotting from the inside?"

"What did you just say...?"

The voice was not mine. The man who reacted to Lespès's revelation was Seo Jae-pil, the Vice Minister of War, seated beside me.

Seo Jae-pil clearly had no idea what was going on. Lespès composed his expression and continued.

"According to our agents' investigations—and according to unofficial American concerns—the various firearms the new government has imported from Japan and along the Pacific routes come to approximately eighty thousand pieces in all."

"What?"

"The ammunition comes to at least one and a half million rounds. I cannot begin to guess what the American arms merchants thought they were doing, handing all of that over so readily."

As Lespès's disclosures piled up, Seo Jae-pil looked as though he had been struck. The second-in-command of the entire War Ministry had known nothing—nothing—about weapons shipments and crates of ammunition being unloaded in bulk at Gunsan, the home port of the Dongmaenghoe.

He thawed just enough to find his voice.

"What on earth are you saying, Vice Admiral? This Major General has never seen any such report from the Quartermaster Bureau—"

"Enough!"

I could not sit there and watch the farce go any further. For the first ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time in my life, I raised my voice in front of Frenchmen. If the two of them kept talking, the entire purpose of this meeting would collapse, and I used my office to shut both their mouths by force.

"Damn it."

It was absurd to keep pushing Seo Jae-pil—the man I intended to elevate as the War Ministry's next great hope—further into the dark. And the scale of the arms deals had grown far too large to slip past the eyes of the French Far East Squadron, which now held a stranglehold on the sea lanes of the Yellow Sea, the South Sea, and the East Sea alike.

Yes. This is what real diplomatic warfare looks like.

Predict every move before you sit down across from the other side. Even the dirty ones.

A vicious wave of nostalgia washed over me. I drew a light breath, sat back down, recovered my composure, and asked them plainly.

"You've clearly pieced together the outline already, so let's be honest. What do you want to know?"

The vice admiral read my face and glanced at his superior.

Then Admiral Courbet opened his mouth.

I held Courbet's gaze for a long moment, then pulled the chaotic map Lespès had produced toward me and began to explain.

"Let's start with the army. That's what matters most."

The account would include facts that even Vice Minister Seo Jae-pil, sitting right here, did not fully know. First, a question. I needed to find out just how thoroughly the Frenchmen understood our situation.

"How do you currently assess the Republic's military strength?"

Lespès glanced sideways before answering.

"We estimate you have mobilized more than fifty thousand combat troops."

"Unofficially?"

"Over a hundred thousand."

"A little high."

I accepted Lespès's answer—it was uncomfortably close—and nodded slowly.

"The moment the tyrant was gone and a regency established, I inspected the army first. We had to worry about a reactionary counterstroke, of course—and about an invasion by the Qing, who had been pulling the tyrant's strings from behind the curtain."

"..."

"I didn't sleep well."

I tossed out a small joke to ease the air, then went on.

"It may strike you Frenchmen as a rather cluttered, old-fashioned establishment. But the rolls our republican government secured through those inspections are as follows. The Gieon Coastal Defense Garrison, charged with the west coast, four thousand. The Jinmu New Garrison on Ganghwa, two thousand. The Giyeong troops at Pyongyang, fifteen hundred. The Uiju Hobunwi, the Bukcheong Household Cavalry, and the Chungmuwi together, fifteen hundred."

It was a state military secret. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the two admirals had already mapped our armament through the very weapons routes we had imported along, and there was nothing left to hide. I laid it out, item by item.

"The dissolved Capital Garrison and the Training Corps at Bukhansanseong Fortress come to six thousand combined. The Gyeonggi Provincial Garrison is about twenty thousand on paper, but in reality closer to half that. The Household Army, our modernized force, is just under five thousand all told. But of every formation we possess, they are the best armed and the most experienced—you may count on them. Especially since General Dye is overhauling them personally. That should tell you everything."

"So that comes to thirty thousand, then."

"It does. Thirty thousand."

But it was not enough. I shrugged under the weight of their stares, shook my head at Seo Jae-pil—who still had not recovered—and set about answering the rest of their curiosity.

"Before the tyrant declared his personal rule, the Daewongun reorganized the Sunmu Camp around the Three Armies Board, in order to reform the defense of Gyeonggi and Hanseong. Some people mistake those troops for today's Jinmu Camp. The reality is a little different."

"How so?"

"The three thousand Sunmu troops posted on Ganghwa for its defense are not the whole of it. Try to stop a white man's fleet with that number and you will find yourselves digging a canal with a hoe after the flood has already broken the dike. A far-flung network of gunner militias underpins them, running through Gyeonggi and on across Chungcheong and Pyeongan. I set aside the overworked War Ministry and ordered the secretaries of the Dongmaenghoe—my own supporters—to restore the collapsed gunner corps and the coastal defense system."

"Militias, then."

"Are they the Vanguard that cheered us from the docks, Your Excellency?"

The word Vanguard made me tighten, just slightly. A foreigner who even knew the identity of my personal organization—my party army. What was I supposed to make of that?

We've got a rat.

Or a Francophile, at the very least. I did not flinch. I answered with a face as smooth as glass.

"You know about the Vanguard as well? But you're wrong. The two are separate. They go by another name now—the Hyangbogun."

"So Your Excellency has been planting your own people throughout the government, the assembly, and civil society."

"You flatter me."

Two Frenchmen murmuring in admiration. One Korean staring in horror. I turned to all three and bowed with the elegant flourish of an actor taking the stage.

"I must say, coming clean is rather refreshing."

Yes. That was the whole of it. Behind the scenes I was running all three: the War Ministry, the army the revolutionary government officially possessed; the Vanguard, mascot of the Dongmaenghoe; and the Hyangbogun, which was nothing more than the Daewongun's old gunner corps under a freshly painted sign.

Why go that far?

There will be no excuses for another failure.

What I had learned from the collapse of the Imo Mutiny was this: so long as there remained any military authority I did not securely control, my position was a castle built on sand. I had to know every circumstance. That was the lesson failure had taught me. And the moment I failed here, having already lost the overwhelming advantage of knowing the future, I would never again have a chance to serve my country and my people.

Which is to say, I had nowhere left to retreat.

"Party membership in the Vanguard has only just passed seven thousand. If we shoved them toward volunteering for the Indochina Peninsula or Taiwan, about two thousand of them would go willingly enough."

"And the Hyangbogun—the most important piece. What is their condition?"

"Don't expect much. Their level is farmers who have traded matchlocks for hunting pieces. On the books, roughly fifty thousand."

"They can still pull a trigger, surely. In that case—"

Eighty thousand, all told. Only then did Admiral Courbet nod, confirming that the volume of firearms imported from Japan fitted the numbers exactly.

"That alone is sufficient, Your Excellency. In this war, France has already seen enough of Korea's will."

"Is that so?"

Yes. It would be enough. A minor power no one had seen coming, prepared to abandon the autumn harvest and drive the young men of an entire nation onto the battlefield.

We've staked everything on this.

All right. Now it was my turn to strike back. What was it you Frenchmen were so afraid of, that you investigated Korea this thoroughly?

"Then let me ask you something, plainly. Have you Frenchmen finally realized you can't swallow the Qing by yourselves?"

I folded my hands together in a neat attitude of prayer. The admiral let out a rough ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breath and opened his mouth. For the first time since he had entered the Wolf's Lair, the composure on his face cracked.

"Ahem—you possess a terrifying insight, quite unsuited to your years, Your Excellency."

"Spare me the compliments. The answer?"

"You have seen it exactly."

Courbet gestured to Vice Admiral Lespès, drew the map toward himself, and came to the point.

"At present, the greatest enemy of our Far Eastern expeditionary army is morale."

"The collapse is that severe?"

I frowned. The admiral nodded, unhurried.

"Considerably. The fatigue of an expedition that has officially lasted four years is no joke, Your Excellency. The men wanted rotation. Mutiny and desertion were breaking out with depressing regularity. Public opinion has since turned, and fortunately we have been able to replace them with fresh troops. Even so."

They held nothing back in the telling. We had been honest about our circumstances, and the two French admirals had evidently decided not to conceal their own.

"These are the troops the expeditionary army can actually commit to combat. Even if we handed policing, fortress repair, and harbor security over to allied forces."

"That's... rather few, isn't it?"

Thirty thousand? You've got to be fucking kidding me. We've been scraping the barrel with a target painted on our backs, ready to get assassinated for it.

I glared. Admiral Courbet, pen in hand, scratched something onto the map and spoke without looking up.

"In my personal judgment, our expeditionary army has no will to fight beyond Guangxi Province and Taiwan."

They couldn't take Beijing. I propped my chin on my hand and murmured.

"Which I take to mean that Paris wants more than that."

"Yes. Precisely. The press, the politicians, and the citizens at home want a greater victory from us than we have now. Not merely the Indochina Peninsula and the Vietnamese kingdom. A greater victory."

He stressed the word victory, and the bitter smile that went with it made Admiral Courbet's face look deeply worn. Perhaps that was the true source of the pallor I had noticed on the first day.

"I will be frank. Our expeditionary army is exhausted. Chasing still more glory and honor may be the karma of greedy men with medals on their chests—but this is no longer an age when a general sits a horse, stands in the battle line, and charges home to victory."

"I can't help feeling I'm being blamed for that."

"Frankly, you are. If it had not been for Your Excellency's letters and telegrams, we would already have been home and then some."

The admiral's grumbling made my throat itch. In truth, if history had not been rewritten, these were men who would have signed a peace that May and gone home.

Ignorant of that fact, the two Frenchmen told me it had only been a joke, and produced the solution they had devised.

"And so the remedy I propose is this. The people of Korea reclaim what is rightfully theirs, and stand shoulder to shoulder with their new friends to present the patient with a prescription."

"Divide and rule, then?"

"A land as vast as China is too large for any one man to hold. And Manchuria—"

"Is a land you Frenchmen would be happy to have and equally happy to do without."

"Instead, the troublemaker of Europe will be the one lying awake."

"And then those short-fused pirate bastards lean on the Qing, and we force an early end to the war."

"There will be no need to march on the Forbidden City. This is the same stratagem Your Excellency used when you persuaded our government, is it not?"

"Ahem."

In short, Admiral Courbet wanted to use this golden opportunity to grow Korea to a weight class worthy of being their proper partner. Their friend's frame had to fill out first—had to put on enough muscle to take a beating and hold until they themselves could sortie. Only then would any of it amount to something.

First time I've seen anyone force-feed us like this.

It was not, in fact, without precedent. The chief reason was simply that we sat on the opposite face of the earth. The little Balkan states peeled away from the Ottoman Empire had been treated the same way, and so had the three Low Countries that served as a buffer between Germany and France.

How long will this last?

In another part of my mind, I was worried for France. They were plainly overreaching—persuading Britain under the pretext of checking Russia's southward drive, even offering Manchuria to the United States, which was hunting for a new frontier now that the Japanese market was a dead letter.

I had no idea how far this generosity would run.

And so my choice was—

"If you would be so kind, we are listening."

I, too, was a Korean.