Chapter 110

Grinning Army Maker (4)

Superintendent of West Point, General MacArthur, was facing an extreme crisis.

As superintendent, he had been driving strong reforms under the banner of introducing modern systems, restructuring the curriculum, and eliminating outdated practices—but he was being fiercely criticized by alumni as a bastard daring to destroy tradition.

For example, MacArthur got absolutely blasted just for allowing the use of calculators during class.

Another example—he was criticized for abolishing the traditional exam method of “reciting the textbook from A to Z in front of instructors.” I mean, what is that textbook, the Quran or something? This is exactly how rigid officers like Drum get produced.

I had thought about getting some amazing future gadget from “MacAemon” to solve this problem, but seeing MacArthur instead cling to me like, “Yujin Kim! Quickly tell me what weapon can take down those old fossils!” just drained all my energy.

“I’m doing everything I can… but I won’t be able to hold it.”

“Why have you grown so weak, sir?”

“That’s because I’m the superintendent. The head of an organization must never appear weak. No matter how dire the crisis, one must remain upright, firm, and dignified.

But even the instructors under me are mostly listening to those old men in D.C. and stabbing me in the back. Once my term as superintendent ends, all these reforms will turn to nothing. I never thought I’d end up like the Gracchi.”

“…If what you did was right, then even among the instructors now, there will be those who believe so in their hearts. Even if the reforms fail for now, those who inherit your ideals will someday walk the right path.”

MacArthur slowly nodded, as if reinforcing his own conviction.

“Yes. This MacArthur was never wrong. The cadets being trained now—and even the instructors—may compromise with the tide for their own advancement, but they won’t be able to betray their conscience forever. The only instructor helping me right now is Captain Ridgeway—”

“Who?”

“Matthew B. Ridgway. He’s in charge of various physical training courses. A very capable man. If you get the chance, you should meet him.”

The surname Ridgway isn’t exactly common… I wonder if he’s the same Ridgway who later became the UN Commander during the Korean War.

If it’s really him, I’d like to collect them all—Hodge, Van Fleet, Ridgway—every figure connected to Korea. Just like in mobile games: complete the set and you trigger a combo.

Anyway, I had to push those stray thoughts aside. If I didn’t stay focused, MacArthur would immediately notice and get irritated—that’s the kind of man he is.

“At least it’s fortunate Secretary Baker confirmed my star before retiring.”

“Indeed. At least stepping down as superintendent won’t mean reverting to your original rank.”

“Do you happen to know anything about the new Secretary of War?”

Secretary John W. Weeks.

He was a senator from Massachusetts, someone who, like us, bet early on Harding and secured a cabinet position. Honestly, early Harding wasn’t particularly impressive, so that alone shows his political skill.

But precisely because of that, he’s highly sensitive to public opinion on disarmament. In fact, he seems to see successful disarmament as his mission.

After hearing my explanation, MacArthur grew gloomy again, and we ended up parting ways after exchanging only trivial small talk.

I came to the conclusion that MacArthur was in no position to lend me strength—but that didn’t mean I had any intention of giving up.

Now it’s time to set the field on fire.

***

Thinking about it now, the mighty Republic of Korea Army taught me a lot. I kind of miss Hokugi.

First priority? Not practical combat capability, but pleasing your superiors.

Instead of improving combat readiness, always worrying—any incidents? any hazing? any suicide risks?

Rather than focusing on your mission, a relentless battle of reading the room and sucking up, pushing rivals aside to climb higher.

This body survived in that brutal environment, lit the field on fire, and even made it onto prime-time news. Maybe it’s because some of that macho spirit still lingers—or maybe it’s because this is 100 years in the past—but dealing with the U.S. Army’s amateur-level politicking seemed manageable.

Still, this fight required caution.

The Republican Party and the broader political world.

Defense contractors fiercely competing to carve up what remained of the pie under disarmament.

And the upper echelons of the U.S. Army—especially serious, given Pershing’s involvement.

All of this ultimately stemmed from one thing: the American people wanted disarmament. If Americans wanted a strong military, disarmament wouldn’t have become a central agenda.

Whether it’s America in 1920 or Korea in 2020, both are democracies. For a single individual to take on the establishment without public support… the odds are about the same as the Empire of Japan forcing the United States to surrender.

“I’m sorry, son-in-law. I can’t help you with this one.”

“That’s alright. Just understanding the situation is already a great help.”

My father-in-law, Congressman Charles Curtis, folded immediately.

He was never a hardline interventionist hawk to begin with, and suddenly changing his stance now would just invite criticism that he’s doing it for his son-in-law.

“You won’t be able to persuade Congress. They don’t care much about combat capability or… specialized fields like that. And those with military backgrounds are even more conservative—they don’t find new weapons appealing.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Congressman Kahn may be leading the charge, but he’s just the sponsor. How exactly do you plan to handle this?”

“I’ll have to ride public opinion.”

“…Ever considered inheriting my district?”

Yeah, no thanks. Even if I ran, it’d be in California—why would I run in Kansas? Might as well send Dorothy instead!

If Curtis is this reluctant, there’s no need to even mention Harding.

Trying to connect with the White House? Even I’d have to be ready to risk everything. Just look at how Wilson fell—if rumors about backroom influence start spreading, I wouldn’t be able to live in America anymore.

And Harding… he’s a good person, sure… but… yeah, I don’t trust him. I’d lend him money at a poker table without hesitation, but not for something this delicate.

Which means—it’s time to draw my trump card for controlling public opinion: The Sun.

The next place I went, naturally, was the mansion of Chairman Henry Ford, keeper of this miraculous Excalibur.

“I heard. Investment in tanks is dropping sharply?”

“That’s right. That’s why I came all the way here to see you, sir.”

“It was quite profitable—what a shame. Wouldn’t it be better to shut down the production lines and focus on tractors instead?”

“Given that demand is dropping sharply, adjusting the production lines is only natural. But I hope you’ll at least maintain some level of tank R&D. We still have the reputation of being the first and the best tank manufacturer. Wouldn’t it be a waste to throw that away?”

The chairman pondered for a moment, then called in his son.

“Ah, Major, you’ve arrived. Congratulations on your promotion.”

“It’s nothing. I’ll only feel like celebrating once we manage to convince the U.S. Army to keep buying tanks.”

After exchanging greetings with Edsel, we immediately moved on to drafting a delightfully wicked scheme.

Honestly, there’s nothing more intoxicating than sitting in a ridiculously luxurious mansion, sharing cigars and drinks, and plotting against a nation—and the world. Is this why people go into business?

“So, you’re going to use The Sun?”

“You both already know the power of that little piece of paper, don’t you?”

“Hahaha. It’s incredible. I hear that every time an article about our new car comes out, The Sun sells out!”

Edsel, who had staked his career as president on the new car, looked like he was about to start dancing.

No matter how much people called the Model T outdated, obsolete, or cheap, it was all said with affection.

To Americans, the Model T was the product that first introduced the idea of “my car,” a symbol of the middle class, and a kind of North Star representing the American Dream.

On top of that, thanks to the recent lawsuit with the Chicago Tribune, Chairman Ford’s image had improved unexpectedly. His almost obsessive love for the Model T was also well known to the public, making any talk of a “new Ford car” irresistible bait for American citizens.

And I added just a bit of 21st-century flavor to that.

“How did you even come up with that promotion method?”

“Well, who doesn’t get excited by words like ‘leak’ or ‘classified’?”

[SPOILER!! Anonymous Ford executive: ‘A completely new vehicle, not the Model T, is in development.’]

[TOP SECRET! Ford’s new car spotted in secret test drives in the Arizona desert!]

[Exclusive minutes from Ford executive meeting obtained: ‘If the new car fails, I’ll jump into the Hudson River.’ Shock!]

What happens if you throw irresistible clickbait headlines—ones even internet addicts in 2020 would click on—into 1920?

What else? Newspapers selling out. Sweet as hell.

Now the public was being conditioned like Pavlov’s dogs. When an article about Ford appeared, people didn’t buy The Sun because of it—they bought The Sun first and then checked if there was any Ford news inside.

“Now that we’ve drawn in maximum atten— I mean, public interest, we should probably move into full-scale promotion before anticipation turns into frustration.”

“We’re already prepared. We’ve reached agreements with dozens of newspapers. The moment we give the signal, stories about our new car will dominate the front pages almost everywhere.”

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Now that Ford had completed testing through this strategy, it was time to use the same method to start stoking interest in tanks.

“Couldn’t we keep this going for another month?”

“We’ve already milked it for months. If we drag it out any longer, people will get angry.”

“Hm. Then let’s make the next sensational topic about tanks. I’ll have a word with my ‘friends.’”

Got it.

From that day on, The Sun began pouring out new exposé articles.

[America’s pride—tanks—abandoned by the hands of its own people?!]

[American-made tanks, envied by Britain, resented by France, feared by Germany—now reduced to relics of the past!]

[German government secretly approaches Ford to purchase tank production lines!]

[Why are the world’s best tank engineers fleeing to the Old Continent?]

[Soviet leadership: “Now that America abandons tanks, we must absorb their technological essence and spread revolution worldwide.”]

Military logic can never beat capitalist logic.

But while struggling over the Philippine issue, I had realized a deeper truth:

Capitalist logic can never, ever beat national pride.

Dear congressmen—

Care for a taste of good old patriotic fervor?