Chapter 93

House of Cards (2)

“How about the Philippines?”

“…Is the alcohol not to your taste?”

What is this man even saying right now?

“The Philippines isn’t bad. There aren’t many places where a junior officer like you can be given a proper role.”

“But—”

“There’s something I’ve been curious about but couldn’t ask. Why did you give up on armor?”

“……”

“You are the man who standardized tanks for the first time in the world, applied them in practice, and even brought them into real combat. Military academies across the globe will put the name Yujin Kim into their textbooks. Rockenbach, Patton, Chaffee—they all believe you are a devoted follower of armored warfare. If you want to manage your career, shouldn’t you naturally focus on armor?”

I mean… that’s true, but—

You can’t fight the Japanese with armor.

I hesitated for a long time, then decided that if anyone could come up with a solution, it would be this sharp senior officer, and finally spoke.

“I’m a Korean-American.”

“I know.”

“And beyond emotional ties of heritage, I believe the only nation that will challenge the United States for dominance in the Asia-Pacific in the future is Japan.”

“So?”

“If I want an assignment in a region full of oceans and islands… wouldn’t it be better to be in the infantry branch?”

Instead of answering, Douglas MacArthur simply drank—

Tap!

And then suddenly smacked my forehead with the pipe in his mouth.

“Ow!”

“Are you an idiot?”

“…What?”

“If that’s what you wanted, you should’ve become a Navy man or joined the Marines. Why on earth did you come to the Army?”

Hey—how can you hit me with facts like that? That’s unfair!

Do you think I didn’t want to go there? Annapolis wouldn’t even accept non-white candidates!

“You want to fight Japan. Fine. Then at best, the Army’s battlefield will be the defense of the Philippines. All the more reason you should serve there.”

A checkmate.

This man is absolutely determined to send me to the Philippines.

Seeing my lips jut out in protest, MacArthur puffed his pipe again and continued.

“If you don’t like that, then go quietly to General John J. Pershing.”

“Do you have something against me?”

“I’m saying this because it’s frustrating. Frustrating. I thought you were smart—why are you acting so foolish? You clearly don’t understand politics.”

I don’t understand politics? Me? I’m practically a kingmaker with connections to the next president!

But from MacArthur’s lofty, almost divine perspective, I must have looked pitiful. Otherwise, why would he tell me to go to Pershing?

Right now, the U.S. Army is divided into two major factions.

Naturally, one of them is led by Pershing—what people call the “Chaumont faction.”

As the name suggests, it refers to those who were stationed at the expeditionary headquarters in Chaumont during the war. Not comrades bound by brotherhood—if that were the case, they’d have a nicer name. Instead, it’s mostly desk-bound figures like Drum.

Many frontline commanders who actually fought the war saw through the incompetence of Chaumont.

At the beginning, everyone may have been on similar footing—but after witnessing the catastrophic slaughter of the Meuse-Argonne, many commanders either learned hard lessons… or took off their uniforms.

Opposing them is the faction led by General March, the current Army Chief of Staff.

March, working alongside Secretary of War Baker, fought desperately to maintain a 500,000-strong army after the war, but Congress had no interest in funding the military. Worse, Pershing—still in Chaumont—was excluded from these decisions, leaving their relationship in ruins.

And the man sitting before me, MacArthur, is effectively aligned with March’s faction.

March had once served under MacArthur’s father, Arthur MacArthur Jr., and both shared a deep dislike for the Chaumont group. MacArthur, who practically believed those people were trying to ruin him, would never join Pershing’s faction.

Of course, a man as prideful as MacArthur wouldn’t play factional games unless he himself were at the top—but the bait March offered was simply too tempting.

What March had proposed:

“You are exactly the kind of man who can reform West Point. What will it be? Return as a major without a star… or take the position of superintendent?”

Honestly, no one could refuse that.

The superintendent of West Point is one of the most prestigious positions in the U.S. Army. And with a guaranteed star on top of that?

MacArthur accepted immediately—and now here he was, happily drinking, even as outdated traditions and rigid old-school discipline surrounded him.

“Listen well, Lieutenant Kim. I serve the United States following in the footsteps of my father, who received the Medal of Honor. I have supporters everywhere, and my career already shines brightly. Those Chaumont fools might be able to sideline me—but they can never force me out.”

“That… is true.”

“But you are different. You need diverse experience, and there are many gates you must pass to reach higher ranks. Both the Infantry School and the Command and General Staff College are controlled by the Chaumont faction. It would be far better for you to get along with them.”

I kept quiet about the political connections I had been building behind the scenes. I had no idea how he would react if he knew.

Because of that, MacArthur—and almost everyone else—believes I’m barely surviving thanks to a handful of supporters.

“General Pershing doesn’t view you poorly. Though he may have grown old and his vision clouded, he’s not the type to obsess over factional control. If anything, it’s more likely that opportunists are abusing his name for their own gain.”

“Well… that’s true.”

After all, Pershing—whose name is even mentioned as a presidential candidate—would hardly bother with petty factional politics.

Andrew Jackson, Ulysses S. Grant, and Pershing—men like them probably dream of the White House even in their sleep.

“So my advice is this—face it head-on. Meet General Pershing and make your request directly. He will surely make good use of you. Don’t try to scheme behind the scenes.”

“Thank you for your advice.”

“And if things go wrong, just quietly go to the Philippines. Going there as a general is exile—but for a captain, an overseas posting is not a bad thing at all.”

Pershing, huh.

MacArthur advised a direct approach—but for someone as careful and prudent as me, that doesn’t quite fit.

Maybe I should get a little help from Marshall.

***

Some time later—

The War Department.

I was able to meet George C. Marshall again after a year.

Now wearing the rank of major, Marshall looked quite irritated.

“Have you been well?”

“As for me… I’ve always been doing fine.”

“I haven’t been fine at all. Damn it.”

It seemed even Marshall had been worn down by working as John J. Pershing’s aide.

“General Pershing has been in a very bad mood lately.”

“Because of the factional fighting?”

“No. Politics. He expected the Republicans to nominate him as their presidential candidate, but instead they suddenly picked that smooth-faced pretty boy. That’s why he’s… rather upset.”

Why is Warren G. Harding coming up again here?

Is this some kind of butterfly effect? Is this my karma coming back around?

For a moment, it felt like the entire United States had gone mad over politics.

Maybe I’ve been meddling too much.

Everywhere you look—schemes, plots, manipulation. Suddenly, a wave of existential fatigue hit me. I swear, this is exhausting.

“Anyway, I strongly advised him not to get involved in politics. He said he had no intention of doing so, but deep down, he seemed to have some expectations. There were even quiet approaches asking if he’d consider becoming the Democratic nominee—but he immediately had them thrown out.”

“That’s… at least a relief.”

“After the Treaty of Versailles, General Pershing’s opinion of the Democrats worsened considerably. I would know—I’m right beside him. He has many concerns.”

Typical Democrats. Still, I’ll give them credit—recognizing that putting forward a war hero like Pershing might actually give them a fighting chance.

But there’s no way Pershing would join them. Any soldier with a brain can already see the shadow of a “second war” looming behind Versailles.

“Anyway, I’ve already spoken about you to some extent, so don’t worry. Just take it easy. Easy. And don’t cause trouble.”

“…Do you remember offering me the position of chief of staff of the 1st Division?”

“I do. Why bring that up now?”

“The reason you couldn’t take that role… was it really because you grabbed General Pershing by the collar—”

“Watch what you’re saying! How could I possibly grab the Commander-in-Chief by the collar?!”

So it was just a rumor? Strange—I’d heard that “Marshall grabbed Pershing by the collar and yelled at him not to pin the chaos at Chaumont on others.”

“I just… grabbed his arm when he was about to stand up. That’s all. I never grabbed his collar.”

“Wow. That’s such a relief. Not the collar, huh.”

You madman. You madman. So it was just his arm, huh. No wonder they call him “Dynamite Marshall.” What a personality. So this is what they mean by “art is an explosion”?

Calm? Composed? All lies. I’ve been deceived. Another biography that fooled innocent children. What kind of “calm” person grabs Pershing’s arm and argues with him? Even George S. Patton wouldn’t dare do that.

Anyway, after receiving a thorough 10-minute lecture on precautions and “how not to screw things up,” I was finally granted the honor of meeting Pershing.

“General, this is Marshall. I’ve brought Captain Kim.”

“Come in.”

It had been a while since I last saw Pershing. He looked a bit heavier, but his presence was as imposing as ever.

“Have you been well? You should be looking healthier—why do you seem thinner?”

“Haha. These days everyone in the Army is complaining about having nothing to do, so I suppose I’m fortunate to have been busy.”

“Yes. There’s a lot of talk about disarmament… indeed.”

After some refreshments were brought in, we spent a while reminiscing about the past.

“Well then, let’s get to the point. A young man with such a bright future wouldn’t come all this way just to reminisce about France.”

“May I speak on his behalf?”

Marshall stepped forward slightly, as if dissatisfied.

Pershing nodded in approval.

“Captain Kim, who once commanded a division, still has not been assigned a position.”

“Why is that? Is March belittling him again over race?”

“No, sir. For Captain Kim to become a senior officer in the future, he must attend the Command and General Staff College. However, there is a complication. As you know, Lieutenant Colonel Drum—who will soon become the commandant—”

“I understand.”

Pershing nodded again.

“Lieutenant Colonel Drum is not a bad man. It seems there’s a minor misunderstanding between the two of you. I’ll speak to him. Captain Kim, proceed to Leavenworth.”

…That’s it? Is that really all?

Marshall and I exchanged bewildered glances.

“Both Drum and Kim are talented men who will lead the Army in the future. Even if there are lingering issues from France, they all stem from trying to serve the nation. Have a drink together and put it behind you.”

Ah… I see.

This feels exactly like when a teacher calls two students to the front after a fight and says, “Shake hands and make up! Hug too!”

“Major Marshall, what’s next on the schedule?”

“Ah, yes. In 30 minutes—”

“Good. Prepare. Captain Kim, let’s meet again when there’s time. I’ll make more time then.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, General!”

…Did that really just get resolved like that?

I guess every army in every country is the same—things both do and don’t get resolved in the strangest ways. It really works like this?

And a few days later—

I was actually assigned to the Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth.

There was just one small problem.

“So… I just enroll as a student at Leavenworth?”

“Enroll?”

The personnel officer handing me the orders looked as if I had just told him Abraham Lincoln had risen from the dead as a vampire.

“You’re not enrolling as a student… you’re being assigned as an instructor.”

“…What?”

“Well, of course. Why would a former division commander enroll as a student? Do you think we lack that much flexibility? Hahaha.”

Why are you suddenly being flexible now of all times?

I actually wanted to enroll as a student.