Chapter 127

Gold Rush Era  (3)

The first half of 1924 I spent in the Philippines was nothing short of fantastic.

I had far more to deal with than just the Provisional Government.

To be precise, on this tropical island it was extremely difficult even to receive news from the Provisional Government, and the mountain of work right in front of me was pushing my human limits.

Filipinos still distrusted the United States, and in order to ease that distrust, we had to establish a defensive strategy against Japan—but most of those strategies were utterly unrealistic.

It all felt far too familiar. Almost identical to the hollow operational plans of rear units in the South Korean Army. Work for the sake of work.

MacArthur still believed that with sufficient preparation, strengthening the local Philippine forces, and constructing proper defensive facilities, it would be possible to “fight valiantly” against the Japanese army.

“But if we build those defensive facilities, that violates the treaty.”

“Ha… This is the front line, and we can’t even make proper defensive preparations? We can’t even build a single ammunition depot? Why not just confiscate all the shovels while we’re at it?”

“Well… that’s what the treaty says.”

“So our hands and feet are tied. What kind of defense are we supposed to mount like this…?”

I told you already. We can’t hold it.

The root cause of this entire absurd situation was the firm policy currently held by the United States:

“We will never launch a preemptive strike.”

As a result, War Plan Orange—the blueprint for war against Japan—always began with the assumption that an unprepared United States would be struck from behind by a treacherous Japanese sneak attack.

Both the Army and Navy agreed with this policy, and the reason was simple.

Even if we take a hit first, we’ll win in the end.

No matter how much the Japanese struggle, they can’t capture Hawaii or land in California.

Unless those island monkeys open some kind of gate, they can’t touch the American mainland—and that gives us more than enough time to leisurely prepare a bat and beat the invaders senseless.

Two years.

No matter how much noise Japan makes—drums, gongs, whatever—we endure for two years, focus on building up strength, and then crush them afterward.

A grand strategy with almost no difference from the Pacific War in the original history.

“There’s a fatal flaw in War Plan Orange.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“The will of our people. If a sense of war-weariness spreads—people thinking we should just give up—then no matter how prepared the military is, it’ll all be for nothing.”

That was, in fact, the greatest concern of War Plan Orange.

During those two years of endurance, could a nation that hated unprofitable wars more than anything truly keep its fighting spirit alive while watching retreat after retreat?

With the Anglo-Japanese Alliance already dissolved through the Washington Naval Treaty, that was the only real concern left.

“Well… we just have to hope our people stay determined.”

“To be honest, I suspect the Navy intends to use the Philippine garrison as a sacrificial pawn to strengthen that resolve. At this rate, the soldiers in the Philippines are destined for a tragic end.”

MacArthur wasn’t wrong.

And as for the will to fight… well, the great Japanese army would take care of that themselves.

The attack on Pearl Harbor was just that irrational—so reckless and shortsighted that it ultimately tightened the noose around Japan’s own neck.

But in the end, we were reassigned without ever finding a perfect solution for defending the Philippines.

At this rate, I doubt we’ll have an answer even by 1941.

To me, the jungle-covered Bataan Peninsula looked like a massive graveyard.

***

My turbulent life in the Philippines finally came to an end.

Dobby is a good elf. Good Dobby worked very hard. After even witnessing the Philippine Scouts going on strike in my later years, haven’t I already seen enough miserable nonsense?

But it didn’t matter.

At last, I was home.

I raided a nearby toy store, arms full of toys for the kids, and flung the front gate wide open.

“Kids! Daddy’s home!”

But their reaction was cold.

The children stared at me indifferently, as if wondering whose dog was barking, and then casually said:

“Who are you, mister?”

“Mister, not daddy.”

“N-no, kids. I’m your father.”

“Our dad is over there.”

They pointed somewhere, and my gaze naturally followed.

And there he was—

A ridiculously handsome… President Harding!

“Ah, Major Kim. Looks like you’ve finally returned. I dumped you in the Philippines, yet here you are.”

Harding flashed that charming smile that had won over voters, casually wrapping an arm around Dorothy’s waist.

“Sorry. But you were always running around outside because you’re a soldier.”

“You said you understood! I won’t be going anywhere anymore. So—”

“You said you’d crawl right back into places where you might die. I tolerated the battlefield, but I don’t want to deal with headaches like that. Meanwhile, he just drinks and gambles quietly at the White House.”

“Of course, of course. Ubeok is nice, but White House nights are far more glamorous.”

“What—what kind of ridiculous nonsense is this?”

Of all times, I don’t have a pistol on me. I almost thought I’d achieve my second presidential kill.

Dorothy, glaring sharply at me, suddenly grabbed me by the collar.

“You idiot! How many times have you nearly died already?!”

“Ghk—! I promise! I really won’t die this time! Really—”

Even as she shook me, I clasped my hands and begged desperately, but it was useless.

“Sorry, Major Kim, but you’ll have to head to Europe immediately. The German army has invaded France.”

“…What are you talking about?”

Field Marshal Marshall—five-star general himself—who had been playing with the children nearby, gave the order in a stern voice.

“Hitler has mastered black magic and is advancing into France with a zombie army. Take command of an armored unit with Patton and proceed to France at once.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Joking? Didn’t I say I’d make sure to plant you on the European front? What are you waiting for? Get ready.”

Hearing Marshall’s order, Dorothy tightened her grip around my neck even more, while Harding started singing some ridiculous tune beside us.

Welcome, we’ve all been waiting for you, White House of a midsummer night—

I—I’m going to die.

This time I’m really going to die. I can’t breathe… worse than when I had malaria…

“Ghk—! Ghk!!”

A familiar ceiling.

A dim room with not a single light in sight.

Dorothy was sleeping soundly beside me, completely unaware of the world.

So… it was a dream.

No, seriously—what the hell kind of terrible dream was that? And why was Harding even in it?

“Daa…dy…”

No wonder my neck felt like it was being strangled.

Like a little chimpanzee, Henry had wrapped his legs around my neck and was crushing my chest and stomach in a merciless guillotine choke.

“S-son? At this rate, Daddy’s going to die. You’re about to take my life before Ludendorff ever could….”

“Don’t go….”

For a moment, it felt like someone had smashed a rock into the back of my head.

This really isn’t something a person should have to go through.

Now I understood perfectly why Mrs. MacArthur kept urging her husband to quit the military and get a regular job.

“Ugh—there.”

I pried Henry off me with great difficulty and gently laid him back in his bed. When on earth did he sneak into our room?

At this point, I’d done more than enough overseas assignments.

Until the outbreak of World War II, wars would continue to erupt all over the world—but there wouldn’t be any that the United States would actively intervene in.

The Spanish Civil War, the Second Sino-Japanese War, the Winter War—they were all just someone else’s problems as long as you stayed in America.

No more overseas postings for me. China, Panama—I’m not going anywhere.

So what if I fall a bit behind in the competition for positions? MacArthur and Marshall are both so eager to use me that they’d probably force a promotion just to send me back to the battlefield.

I’ll just stay here quietly and do my job.

Watching Henry mumble for his father in his sleep, I strengthened my resolve.

***

Some time later.

To celebrate my return, we held a small party, and our house in D.C. was lively again for the first time in a while.

“So you’re really not going overseas anymore?”

“That’s the plan. Though it’s not exactly up to me. I mean it—I’m not going. Really.”

“Would they force someone who refuses? Stop asking the same thing over and over. How many times has it been already?”

“You heard that? I’m not going anymore.”

But the Marshall in my dream had felt way too real.

The image of him gripping a whip in one hand, looking ready to squeeze every last drop of labor out of me, had been a massive shock to my delicate psyche.

After hearing Marshall’s confirmation again, I finally relaxed and turned to my younger brothers with a serious warning.

“Take care of your health, both of you. Exercise more. And Yushin—why haven’t I heard any news about a baby yet?”

“Hyung, even Dad doesn’t ask that kind of thing. Stop nagging.”

“Back in my day! I just went ‘have a baby—bam!’ and Henry showed up! Huh?!”

“And you actually saw him being born?”

Hey—what kind of cheap shot is that all of a sudden? What a dirty move.

To change the subject, I quickly brought something else up.

“You know, after nearly dying back there, I realized—we should get into pharmaceuticals too.”

“Dosan is heading to Shanghai, and you want to expand the business even more? You said you’d send me to college. Ever think maybe the reason there’s no news about your nephew is because you work day and night?”

I don’t know, you brat. You think I had Henry during some relaxed vacation? I even brought Ryukyuan people over for you, and this is how you act?

“And hyung, you do realize our business portfolio is a total mess, right? We need to organize it. Last time you said we should get into shipbuilding or shipping too.”

“We should do both.”

“We don’t have the money, you lunatic! Both of those are money pits!”

Shipbuilding didn’t even need explaining—it was basically a money-printing business.

Especially once World War II broke out, demand for transport and cargo ships would explode, and whoever got in first would win. On top of that, it created jobs. No way we could pass that up.

Pharmaceuticals… honestly, I wasn’t sure.

This was still the late 1920s—an era where things like Listerine were sold as medicine.

The first thing that came to mind was penicillin, but there wasn’t even a whisper of it yet. Same with sulfa drugs. I wanted to jump on something big early, but nothing obvious came to mind.

“Pharmaceuticals, huh. A senior from my university seems interested in that field. He’s Korean, too.”

“Oh really? Looks like sending Yuin to college is already paying off. If he’s interested, we could consider investing.”

“That might be difficult. He already has his own business, and it’s doing extremely well.”

“Ah, I think I know who you mean. He got his initial funding from us.”

Someone both of them knew? Interesting. Then again, a Korean with a university education running a business—it’s not exactly common.

“So someone we invested in actually succeeded, huh? Feels like our fund is finally growing. If there’s a chance, I’d like to meet him myself.”

“If you ask, there’s no way he wouldn’t come.”

“And then he’ll see what kind of person you are and be disappointed. Maybe it’s better if you don’t meet him.”

Look at these two, perfectly in sync. Clearly I haven’t disciplined them enough—my authority as the head of the household is slipping.

“So, what’s his name?”

“Huh? Yoo Il-han—”

“Bring him here immediately, you idiots.”

This is exactly why I need to stay in America. Seriously.