Chapter 241
Chapter 241
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The Preparer
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In November 1961, as the entire world reeled from the oil shock, Israel buckled under Western pressure to cease fire with the Arabs and floated a new negotiation proposal.
“I will return the Sinai Peninsula to Egypt.”
Nothing was mentioned about Syria’s Golan Heights, but even the Arabs weren’t trying to corner Israel that badly.
“We’ve saved face at least, so let’s compromise here.”
Oil prices plunged into single digits the moment the ceasefire treaty was signed.
There were good reasons for this dramatic drop in oil prices.
“The Suez Canal—the Suez Canal is reopening!”
Once the Suez Canal, blocked since the Third Middle East War, opened again, shipping distances between Europe and Asia would shorten, and transit times would shrink too.
Riding this wave of good news, the global economy snapped back into a boom.
Korea’s economy followed suit, with forecasters bumping up their growth projections.
But beneath this roaring prosperity lurked dark shadows.
“Argentina says U.S. grain production is projected to fall 9 percent.”
“From the Chicago Board of Trade?”
“Yes.”
A 9 percent drop in output, but prices would rocket several times higher.
The Chicago Board of Trade was already chaos this year, overrun by countries and companies scrapping over grain shipments bound for India.
“What about the Soviet grain we contracted to buy early next year?”
“We buy it, of course.”
Stockpiling grain was pure profit.
Yi Seong-jun wasn’t the type to pass up a 500-million-bushel deal.
Even at a premium price, it didn’t matter.
Grain prices were only going higher.
While I focused on grain, our companies weren’t sitting idle.
Chaebols led by Hyundai charged into the scorching Middle East, chasing petrodollars.
“Need construction work? We’ll handle it clean and efficient.”
Korean firms jumped into booming wartime demand for ports and infrastructure.
They bid low too.
“Don’t they know about loss leaders?”
“And we can use EA laborers.”
Before the West even woke up, Korean companies had flags planted all over the Middle East.
“Hey, those bastards are gobbling up all the oil sheikhs’ cash?”
By the time the West caught on and set foot in the postwar Middle East, Korean firms had snatched up most of the prime contracts.
In the end, after everyone else shed blood and tears in the Fourth Middle East War, Korea stood alone as the winner.
“Burp. That hit the spot.”
Well, the Soviets profited quietly from rising oil prices, and Iran cashed in once sanctions lifted.
These trends solidified in early 1962 growth forecasts.
The economic research institute pegged 1961 growth at 7 percent.
Considering the oil shock’s blow, it was astonishing.
‘Can’t catch the Soviets this year.’
But that didn’t bother me.
Overtaking the reds was something I could do anytime I set my mind to it.
Hell, there was no guarantee I wouldn’t this year.
If drought hit, the Soviets would collapse on their own.
That was the plan, but they might not crumble as expected.
Fortunately for them, Soviet agriculture had ditched Lysenko’s pseudoscience.
Khrushchev was pushing wheat over corn these days.
So even with drought, their yields might just dip, not crash.
Still, the Soviets had one big disadvantage over us.
Population.
They had to feed thirty million more mouths than us.
With that kind of burden, merely holding steady wouldn’t cut it.
I saw that as the decisive factor.
“Send in the KCIA director.”
I decided to reach into the Soviet Union itself.
If Khrushchev’s regime might collapse, preparing alternatives was only prudent.
“You called for me, sir?”
“Prepare ways to connect with Brezhnev, Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet, and Alexander Shelepin, KGB Chairman.”
“Aren’t those men Khrushchev’s inner circle?”
“On the surface.”
They owed their high posts to Khrushchev’s favor.
But if humans always repaid favors, heartwarming tales of gratitude wouldn’t make the news.
Those two were white-headed beasts plotting a coup to seize power from Khrushchev.
The KCIA director didn’t press after hearing “on the surface.”
“I’ll explore contact channels.”
No need for action yet.
Securing lines for a rainy day was enough.
Come January 1962, Khrushchev exported 500 million bushels of grain to us.
Word inside the USSR was mixed on the deal.
Some argued for stockpiling against shortages, but Khrushchev shut them down.
“We’re breaking 48 million hectares of new land—trembling over 500 million bushels? Ridiculous.”
That one line silenced the bureaucrats, they said.
But 500 million bushels wasn’t trivial.
At per capita bread and grain consumption around 160 kg, it could feed over 80 million people.
Khrushchev had reasons for shipping us such a massive amount.
First, clearing the endless backlog of payments.
They paid for our manufactured goods with raw materials and gold, but raw stuff was low-value next to our exports.
No matter how much they sent, they couldn’t settle up.
They figured on paying when grain prices peaked.
Second, confidence in their virgin lands campaign.
Khrushchev had scored big on wasteland reclamation the past few years.
Up to 40 percent of Union grain from new lands.
And this round’s acreage was on another level.
That swagger let them export without worry—they’d refill fast.
Third, national credit.
Sure, communists don’t care about credit, right? But Moscow wasn’t totally shameless.
After publicly committing grain exports to Korea, bailing because prices rose would piss off Pyongyang.
No reason for the Soviets to risk it.
Screwing an ally for short-term gain was unthinkable in Cold War logic.
Thanks to that, we massively boosted our reserves.
Silo stocks topped 7 billion bushels.
The agriculture ministry fretted.
“Storage costs alone are eating a third of our budget.”
“I’ll give you more funding. Don’t worry about money.”
I’d rather burst from overeating grain than cut stockpiles.
‘Food is the ultimate weapon.’
I believed grain outgunned oil.
Twenty-first-century agribusinesses taught me that.
As we hoarded without releasing, grain prices held high for a while.
But like oil, grain couldn’t resist human greed.
“War’s over—why choke supply? Sell it.”
When giants like Cargill started dumping reserves, prices plunged.
“Harvest down 9 percent? We’ve got last year’s stocks. Think we’re new to farming?”
Their inventory flood brought spring prices down to just above last year’s.
The oil shock-triggered grain crisis seemed to be winding down.
“Sir, wouldn’t it benefit us to unload our pricey stocks now?”
Old grain turning to feed—like with aged rice—fetched poor prices after long storage.
“Not yet.”
That only worked when everyone had full bellies.
In famine, even feed-grade grain commanded premium.
Bureaucrats half-doubted my call but held their tongues.
We maintained our long position.
Of course, we didn’t buy more.
‘Show our hand now, and we’re traitors.’
No need to trash Korea’s reputation chasing extra gains.
“Sir. A letter from the U.S. President.”
The ambassador’s visit? Delivering a personal note?
I skimmed Kennedy’s letter.
With grain prices crashing, U.S. farmers would suffer massive losses—he asked us to hold off releasing stocks for a bit.
‘They think we’ll dump too, huh?’
No one grasped our position.
In this era, who else foresaw megadrought and hoarded grain like a madman?
Still, no reason to blindly oblige the U.S. President.
“I understand your intent, but that would harm Korea’s vital interests greatly.”
“It’s not an idle request from the President. Cooperate on this, and we’ll ease COCOM export restrictions.”
“Really?”
“The President promises it personally.”
In that case, sure.
I never planned to release anyway.
“Very well. We’ll cooperate.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“No trouble. Korea is America’s staunchest ally, isn’t it?”
Washington’s backstabs were sharp, but if the victim didn’t know, no harm done.
I shook the ambassador’s hand with a smile.