God of Normalization (4)
"No no no, what in the world is THAT!?"
"Ah, you don't know? That's called a 'salary.' Money that comes in like clockwork on a fixed day every month."
"Madness! There's no way such a thing could exist!"
"Sav...ings? What's that?"
"Ah, you don't know? It's money they guarantee at a generous five percent annual interest, paid out when you're discharged or when the term matures."
"...But doesn't that mean you can't touch the money until then? Isn't that a loss?"
"Good heavens! You simply don't understand how magnificent financial income is!!!"
"Now, I'll teach you the alphabet. You'll use it to write out pronunciation, and learn to read from there."
"Major, sir! Are you not going to teach us the Chinese characters!?"
"Except for a few cases where identical sounds cause confusion, the alphabet is far easier to read. Besides, military terminology is all cut from the same cloth anyway."
The year 1910.
The 1st Battalion, 1st Regiment of the Fengtian Local Brigade was still reeling, dazed by the storm that had swept over it.
"What's this now?"
"A daily schedule?"
A sheet of paper, posted large and bold in a spot where everyone passing could see it clearly.
1ST BATTALION STANDARD DAILY SCHEDULE
"Reveille at six-thirty, morning formation followed by a run, personal hygiene time... what even is this?"
"Honestly. If you throw men into real combat, the ones with potential sort themselves out soon enough. Why bother with all this? What a nuisance."
However much the soldiers grumbled here and there, Lee Tae-oh did not stop.
As if to say that the dogs may bark but the train rolls on, he kept creating institutions that had never existed before and smashing the old ones without mercy.
Anyone who smoked opium—officer, NCO, or common soldier, it made no difference—was discharged on the spot or transferred to another unit, clean as a whetted blade.
"A man ought to be allowed to smoke a little opium!"
"Major, sir, this is going too far!"
The ones who said that were beaten publicly on the parade ground.
"You bastards—are you soldiers, or are you opium peddlers!?"
"Ack! Ack! We're sorry, sir!"
"If you've got complaints, step up right now! Who in the hell is going to dare lay a hand on me, the Horse Emperor!?"
Du Lisan, club in hand, beat the worst offenders among them half to death right out in the open and then chased them off in nothing but their underwear. After that, most mouths clamped shut like clamshells.
"My word. So that's how a man gets beaten. Lord, that's terrifying."
"......?"
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Isn't that the atmosphere the Major himself created, sir? You watch it all from across the river like it's someone else's fire, and frankly it's fascinating."
"What, you want a turn at it too?"
"No, sir."
Jeom-san shook his head vigorously, then changed the subject.
"Come to think of it, didn't you say you were going somewhere today, sir?"
"Ah, right. The Fengtian Army Primary School."
"Why there, of all places...?"
"A man can't keep appointing officers forever just because they're his buddies, his cousins, or the younger brother of his son-in-law's nephew. The time has come for us to get our hands on some proper officers.
So keep the unit in good order while I'm away."
"Understood, sir."
"And if anyone grumbles just because I'm not around, go ahead and slug them for me."
"W-weren't you never this violent before, sir?"
"Back then, not many people had the gall to test me. These days, the moment I show the slightest crack, they come swarming like flies."
It was more than a little cynical—but what could he do? That was simply the way things were.
Leaving Jeom-san behind, he mounted his horse and reined it toward the guard post.
"Major."
"Second Lieutenant Jo Do-seon, Second Lieutenant Woo Deok-sun. Have you been waiting long?"
"Not at all. Shall we go, sir?"
The two men, who had been waiting for him in advance, spurred their horses forward as soon as he arrived.
Once they were a good distance beyond the gates and out of prying eyes, Woo Deok-sun sidled up with a question.
"So what exactly does this Fengtian Army Primary School do, sir?"
"It's something the previous Viceroy, Zhao Erxun, established—a sort of... crash-course officer academy, if you will."
"A crash-course officer academy?"
"You see, in Manchuria there are precious few men who've actually studied military science properly, so the idea was to give them at least some training and raise the quality of the junior officers."
Of course, that was not how it had turned out.
At his words, this time it was Jo Do-seon who asked, puzzled.
"Why not, sir?"
"Because whenever anyone showed a spark of talent, the senior officers would come sweeping in and snatch them all up."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. Say I'm a brigade commander. I hear word that one of the cadets at the Army Primary School is rather sharp. So I go to him and poach him for my own personal staff."
"But—but he's just a private soldier then, isn't he? Can someone holding official post really do that?"
Hm.
He was tired of saying it until his mouth ached, but this was Manchuria.
Amazing Manchuria, indeed.
"And for the record, when that senior officer is reassigned to a new post, every officer under him gets transferred right along with him."
"Then—then military command and military administration are never separated, are they."
Military command (junling).
The authority to move actual troops and direct operations—in other words, the power to decide how battles are fought and what strategy is drawn up.
Military administration (junzheng).
The authority to direct the administrative work of managing a military organization—in other words, the power of personnel appointments, deciding who gets posted where, and the quartermaster's control over supplies.
And what if the two are never separated?
Suppose a corps commander could reshuffle the ranks and postings of every man beneath him at will—while also paying their salaries?
Then who would the men under him pledge loyalty to?
The government? Or the corps commander?
The carrot, of course, was the latter.
"Then—that's just a warlord army, isn't it? Aren't we talking about An Lushan in the Tang dynasty? I can't see how it's any different."
"I agree with Do-seon, sir. What kind of army anywhere in the world operates like that?"
Where indeed, you ask?
Right here, gentlemen.
What's that? How is that even acceptable?
Well then, the nation falls, doesn't it?
That's right. It does fall.
Which is exactly why it's collapsing in real time as we speak.
And it will keep falling.
Perhaps because the men of the Korean Empire were the rare people whose government had actually kept its military under control right up until the day the nation perished, Jo Do-seon and Woo Deok-sun seemed unable to swallow his words so easily.
"Is it any wonder this country's armies have been smashed to pieces by every foreign invader that came along? In Manchuria, your kind of sensible thinking simply doesn't apply."
"Good grief."
"Then why is the Major going there himself?"
"Like I said—to bring back the sharp ones."
Manchuria, home to eighteen million people.
The lands south of Shanhaiguan, home to four hundred million.
In the age of upheaval that was coming, Manchuria could only be defended from the zergling horde that would come pouring across Shanhaiguan chanting one-two-three, hao-hao-hao—if its resources were spent with maximum efficiency.
"We've arrived. Let's go in."
"Now then! Attention!"
"Attention!"
As the instructor entered, Guo Songling, a cadet of the Fengtian Army Primary School, echoed the drill call in unison with his classmates.
"Today we are graced by a most distinguished visitor."
Gripping the lectern, the instructor poured out a whole basketful of tedious admonitions—do not offend the sensibilities of the eminent guest, repeat every order loudly and clearly, and so on and so forth.
"—Accordingly, I expect each of you to conduct himself with proper bearing today. That is all."
"Salute to the instructor!!"
After the instructor nodded and departed, three men in military uniform filed in.
"Huh? He's damn young."
"Wait. That's a Major's insignia, isn't it?"
"Then... "
One of the cadets spoke in a low voice.
"...The Yue Fei of the Northeast."
A flicker of something unusual lit the cadets' eyes.
The resolute gaze of soldiers, steeped in honor, discipline, and a sense of mission.
—Or so one might have hoped; in truth, most of them wore the look of baseball players heading into free agency.
"Get picked, and we can each carve out a tidy slice for ourselves, eh?"
"No question! Do you have any idea how many bandits Zhang Zuolin and Lee Tae-oh have already put down? Just follow the man around and you'll be scooping gold, silver, and treasure into baskets!
The young hero of the Northeast whose stock has been soaring of late—Lee Tae-oh.
That such a man had come to the Fengtian Army Primary School could mean only one thing: he was here to recruit fresh talent.
The cadets all straightened their backs and waited breathlessly for him to speak to them, while at the same time running simulations in their heads—calculating how to leave the deepest possible impression the moment he did.
'Pathetic lot, the whole bunch of them.'
Guo Songling's head throbbed at the sight of his classmates.
It was embarrassing. Humiliating.
Granted, it was precisely because most of his classmates behaved this way that Guo Songling himself had claimed the top spot and swept up the scholarships—but that was beside the point. A stomach could still turn over, couldn't it?
How could men who wore the uniform of a soldier care for nothing but the rice in their bowls?
Instead of devoting themselves to their studies and becoming better soldiers, every time he watched his classmates pant like dogs and volunteer themselves as errand-boys to senior officers, he couldn't help wondering where the mettle of the heroes and gallants of the Three Kingdoms had gone.
Whether or not he knew what was in Guo Songling's heart, Lee Tae-oh walked slowly to the lectern and swept his gaze over the cadets in one long, deliberate pass.
"Attention."
"Attention!!!"
"It is a pleasure to meet you all. I am Major Lee Tae-oh, serving with the Fengtian 1st Local Brigade."
"Salute to the Major—!!!"
"Ah, that's quite enough. Rather than such fussy ceremony, I find myself curious about who you men actually are."
What's this? Is this some new trick?
While they all blinked in confusion, Lee Tae-oh fetched a chair from the side, set it down, and settled into it.
"You there, cadet."
"Yes, sir!"
"In your judgment, what is the purpose of an army's existence?"
"To—naturally, to safeguard the peace of the imperial house and protect the heavens of the Great Qing, sir!"
"Is that so? Hm. I see."
He stroked his chin, then shifted his eyes sideways.
"And you?"
"I, too, believe that guarding the servants of the Great Qing and defending the heavens is the very purpose of our existence, sir!"
"Good. Next."
"Yes! I—"
The questioning went on and on.
But most of the cadets offered only answers that were cut from the same cloth.
"You there."
The questions made a full circuit of the room, and at last it was Guo Songling's turn.
He swallowed slightly, taking care not to let his voice crack, and opened his mouth.
"Yes, Major."
"What do you believe is the purpose of a soldier's existence?"
"I..."
Would he give the standard answer, like the cadets before him? Or would he spit out the convictions he had carried for years?
"I believe the purpose of an army is to protect the lives and property of good people, and to defend the frontier from foreign incursion."
"...Oh ho."
Lee Tae-oh smiled, looking genuinely intrigued.
"Then in your view, what qualities should a soldier carry in his heart?"
"Strict military discipline, a heart devoted to saving the nation, and a sense of justice, sir."
"I see."
He went on to put the same questions to the remaining cadets, then rose from his seat.
"Meeting the future of Fengtian today has made for a deeply rewarding time. Keep working hard at your studies, and I trust we shall meet again someday in uniform."
And with nothing but those formulaic words, he was gone.
"...We just got rejected, didn't we?"
"Damn it."
Guo Songling, too, let out a long sigh.
'Did I stand out too much?'
The army despises men who stand out.
That much he had learned in his four years of studying here.
Perhaps he should have polished his answer a little more.
A shame—but it was fine.
Colonel Zhu Qinglan of the 3rd Local Brigade cherished him greatly, so he would make his commission regardless.
And so some time passed, and he had just about resigned himself to having failed—
"Cadet Guo?"
"Yes, Instructor."
"Come here a moment."
Guo Songling followed the instructor into one of the classrooms.
Someone stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out the window.
The instructor gave a small bow to the man and closed the door behind him.
"Major Lee Tae-oh?"
"Ah. There you are. I was waiting for you. Your name was Guo Songling, wasn't it?"
"Yes, sir, it is!"
"And your age?"
"A little older than my classmates, sir. Twenty-seven this year!"
Lee Tae-oh nodded as if that settled something, then raised a new subject.
"You gave a rather different answer from your classmates earlier. Might I hear your reasons?"
"...One might even take it to mean that I am disloyal to the Great Qing... are you certain you wish to hear it?"
"If I weren't, I wouldn't have called you in here separately. Go ahead."
Whew.
He drew one deep breath and opened his mouth.
"The state bears an obligation to guarantee its people's right to life and their safety. South of Shanhaiguan, perhaps—but here in Manchuria, the Great Qing can no longer guarantee the lives and safety of the Manchurian people. That is why I named the protection of the people and the defense of the frontier as the purpose of an army, sir."
"...Ho. The social contract. You've read Rousseau?"
"Yes, sir. I'm fond of him."
"Ha ha. I never imagined I'd be discussing Rousseau in Manchuria of all places. That's a novel feeling."
Lee Tae-oh studied him for a moment, then spoke again.
"Strict military discipline, a heart devoted to saving the nation, a sense of justice. That's what you said, wasn't it?"
"......"
"Most men talk of loyalty to the sovereign and suchlike.
It seems to me, Cadet Guo Songling, that you are bracing yourself for an age of chaos. Am I wrong?"
Sharp as a blade.
Was this how the words of men counted among the heroes of their generation always pierced straight through to the marrow?
"...Because a soldier is not a band of brigands, sir."
"No matter what happens?"
"No matter what happens. Even if an age of chaos does come.
Absolute obedience to a superior's lawful orders, treasuring one's weapon as one's own, and the thorough rejection of such vices as opium, gambling, and plunder—only then does a man deserve to be called a soldier."
"Okay. That'll do."
Lee Tae-oh grinned and drew something from inside his coat.
A rank insignia: a single yellow dragon emblazoned on a field of red.
"Major, this is—"
"I shall make you a formal proposal. Would you care to join our army as an officer?"
"...May I ask what it is you want from me, that you would extend such an offer?"
He answered with a wry smile.
"Strict military discipline, a heart devoted to saving the nation, and a sense of justice."
In place of an answer, Guo Songling closed his hand around the insignia.
The Empire of Japan. Tokyo.
"So our friend Zhang Rong managed to hide himself away safely?"
"He has successfully taken cover under the guise of an instructorship at the Fengtian Army Primary School, they say."
"Excellent! When the flames of revolution ignite, Manchuria shall rise in answer and burn as well. Well done, all of you. With the seed thus planted, it can't be long before it sprouts."
Sun Yat-sen, head of the Chinese Tongmenghui, laughed heartily and spared no encouragement for his comrades.
"When the revolution succeeds! Recovering everything that our China has been robbed of by foreign powers through all these long years will no longer be a dream."
"Comrade Sun Yat-sen is right!"
"Xinjiang! Hong Kong! Shanghai! Kiautschou! And even the old tributary lands like Vietnam and Korea—all shall come under the banner of a resurgent China."
"Agreed!"
The dreaming prince, Sun Yat-sen, launched into a long, luminous oration before his comrades once more—painting the bright future that lay ahead.