Chapter 79

Killing Pigeons (1)

The entire way back from London, I kept my mouth tightly shut like a clam.

“General, are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Did His Excellency the President perhaps say anything…?”

“He told me to go die.”

“What do you mean by that? He told you to die?”

That bastard.

I had already assumed that going to Japan would be unavoidable.

The higher my position rose, the more my reputation grew, the more my very existence would provoke the Japanese Empire.

Even back when I was just a newly commissioned second lieutenant, talk of being sent to Japan had already come up. There’s no reason it would be any different now.

But this? This isn’t it.

For now, I wrapped things up with Wilson by stringing together some appropriate lip service.

“This damn bloodline really won’t let me go, will it.”

“…You’ve had a hard time in many ways.”

At this point, it honestly doesn’t matter what promises I throw at Wilson.

The end of Joseon, and the beginning of the Republic of Korea.

The March 1st Movement isn’t far off.

Faced with that massive wave of independence demonstrations that will set the entire nation ablaze, will the Japanese Empire really have the nerve to call for me?

Whether I give lip service or not isn’t the issue.

My reputation seems to have spread over there as well, and the mere fact that a man who rose to prominence as a U.S. general set foot on Joseon soil would more likely pour fuel onto anti-Japanese sentiment.

And that’s not all.

Because of the Shandong Peninsula issue Wilson mentioned, the May Fourth Movement will erupt in China as well.

In this endless anti-Japanese atmosphere, the chances of my invitation quietly fizzling out are much higher.

I just take everything I can from Wilson upfront, then go, ‘Oh dear, what can I do if the host doesn’t want to invite me? Haha!’ and that’s the end of it.

Of course, punching Wilson in the face is a separate matter.

Even in original history, Wilson’s hollow idealism couldn’t convince even his fellow Americans.

Then he collapses, becomes half-paralyzed, and while he lies bedridden in the White House, his remarried wife arbitrarily takes over presidential authority in his place.

A very familiar taste of shadow power for Koreans.

In original history, this insane fact never gets exposed until the end… but here, things are different.

More precisely, because I intend to change history.

“Khahahahaha!!”

“Have you gone insane?”

“Khahahahaha!!”

“It looks like you’re plotting something underhanded again, but I trust you’re not crazy enough to pick a fight with the president of a nation.”

“What, are you doubting my loyalty to the United States? That won’t happen. It won’t.”

You’re getting sharper by the day.

Ah, don’t worry.

By that time, Wilson won’t be president anymore.

If he gets kicked out of the White House, my duty of loyalty disappears too, right?

The real question is how to get rid of him in the most profitable way.

“Let’s get back to work. Any urgent reports from the main force?”

“Nothing in particular. Ah, but it seems the number of hospitalized soldiers is rapidly increasing.”

“Why? Didn’t I order strict precautions to prevent casualties during civilian support operations?”

“They say cases of venereal disease have exploded.”

“Damn it. What am I supposed to do about that? Report it to General Pershing.”

I’d been tightening restrictions under the excuse of wartime, but if I tried to keep stopping them even during this ceasefire, I wouldn’t be confident of surviving. I’d already heard ‘Why are the British and French allowed, but not us?’ several times a day.

It was truly exhausting. I was shocked to see government-affiliated organizations crossing the Atlantic just to monitor whether American soldiers were visiting brothels and then pressuring Pershing over it.

One thing I realized while living in the U.S. during my second life was that the phrase “America, the land of freedom” was only half true at best.

The United States was indeed a land of freedom.

More precisely, it was a land where you had the freedom to make money.

Beyond that, there was almost no freedom in cultural or social atmosphere.

It was extremely oppressive and rigid, with only the upper class—especially upper-class men—having some room to slip through.

If I had to choose the most fitting analogy, I’d define it like this:

“A country of Christian Taliban.”

The racial barriers go without saying.

But even across society as a whole, that Puritanical morality tightly constrained everything—it was something I could feel firsthand. There’s a reason Prohibition passed.

You could tell just by looking at Dorothy. When I first met her and casually asked if she wanted to share a cigarette, she was shocked, wasn’t she?

In the movies I’d seen set in old America, women smoked and drank freely, so I said it without much thought. But later, hearing it from Dorothy herself, it had been an enormous cultural shock for her. Without realizing it, I’d become a dangerously charming bad man.

Clothes that show skin? Not allowed, except maybe short sleeves in summer.

Cutting your hair short? Only done by red radicals dissatisfied with society.

Corsets are mandatory.

Makeup—especially colored makeup—is something only bar girls wear.

Stockings must be cotton and strictly black. Fools who don’t even know the virtue of sheer stockings.

Even films set in Korea in the 60s–70s seemed more breathable than this. For a so-called near-great power, even this aspect was suffocating.

But there’s too big a gap between what I saw in movies and documentaries and the reality.

Which means only one thing:

Soon, this ironclad wall of Christian morality will collapse.

And…

If I prepare now, I can rake in money by the shovel.

If I can maintain my reputation as a pioneer with a new business idea, wouldn’t that be killing two birds with one stone?

Originally, I’d just be following along with a changing world,

but to the people of this world, it’ll look like I’m the one leading that change.

***

Corporal John Miller was on the verge of being discharged from the hospital.

As a member of the 93rd Division, he had bravely fought in every fierce battle from Amiens to the Meuse-Argonne, only to be wounded in the final battle and hospitalized.

Even in the end, he had been saved by the hands of the Yellow Jesus.

Their revered division commander had made the evacuation of the wounded the top priority the moment the battle ended, and thanks to that, Miller survived the mud and made it safely to the hospital.

If he could just return home safely, he would fulfill every order his division commander had given and complete his service.

Now he could finally say it proudly:

That he had fought for freedom as a member of the United States Army’s 93rd Division.

So now, he would ask—

that poor Black people like them be treated a little more like human beings.

Even if mad racists pointed guns at his head and threatened him, he now had the courage to shout back at them to pull the trigger—just like he had in front of the Jerries’ machine guns.

But right now,

that boundless confidence and courage were nowhere to be found.

“Phew…”

“You coward.”

“But still… it’s kinda… you know.”

An unexpected scene of racial harmony had formed in the hospital’s backyard.

Two white men. And two Black men.

One Black soldier from the 369th Regiment of the 93rd Division, along with two white soldiers from the 93rd Division’s tank battalion, were casually smoking together as they listened to Miller’s whining.

“So do you like her or not?”

“I do…”

“Then go ask her out. Invite her to go see a play together.”

“Damn white folks. Do you have any idea how delicate and sensitive this issue is?”

A nurse he had met at the hospital.

She—Evans—had, before anyone knew it, burned even a Black man’s heart pitch black. Whether she knew it or not, no one could tell.

“You know, that thing, like… race and all—”

“What did our boss always say? That he’d open up the future for us. Wouldn’t that future include picking up white women too?”

“You guys didn’t go to Cambrai, that’s why. We’re the real comrades who fought alongside General Kim in every battle—we know him inside out. I guarantee it—if we send a petition to General Kim, he’d go, ‘Load one love letter and fire immediately!’ One hundred percent.”

“If you didn’t go crazy and misinterpret things on your own, then that woman’s definitely interested in you, I’m telling you.”

As was typical of barracks talk, once the topic of women caught fire, all sorts of nonsense started flying around.

But Miller found their “advice” far from reassuring. Anyone could see they were grinning ear to ear, practically saying, “Do it! Just do it!”—clearly just pushing him for their own amusement.

So absorbed in the conversation were they that none of them noticed a man approaching from afar.

“Hey. Sounds like you’re having an interesting discussion.”

“Who’s that?”

“Wanna join in, old ma— Gah!!”

“Hic!”

The first to snap their mouths shut were the two soldiers from the tank battalion.

“Who is it?”

“O-our former superior.”

“Former superiooor? Carter! Barnes! Feels like just yesterday I was wiping your asses when you couldn’t even start an engine, and now that you’ve transferred units, you’ve already forgotten respect for your superior? Where’s that ‘once 326, always 326’ spirit gone?”

The newly arrived man pulled out a cigar and took a deep puff.

“If they’re soldiers of my beloved junior, then they’re as good as my own! This master of romance, George Smith Patton Jr., will personally teach you the perfect way to woo a lady!”

Completely unconvincing. To be a master of romance, shouldn’t he first fix that whole “woman” wording?

Anyway, thanks to the insistence of someone so high above them, Miller awkwardly began to recount what had happened between him and Emily.

“To think such an idiot served under Yujin!!”

“Why are you suddenly blowing up like that?”

“It’s obvious she’s overflowing with interest in you! It wouldn’t even be strange to call her behind the storage tonight! Why haven’t you asked her out yet, Corporal?!”

“B-but… even if she accepts my feelings, there are… a lot of realistic problems, aren’t there?”

Miller, getting heated himself, blurted it out regardless of rank.

“Corporal Miller. Were you a clerk or a lawyer before this?”

“Huh? Yes, I was a lawyer.”

“Figures. That’s exactly the kind of nonsense a paper-pusher would spout!”

But Patton wasn’t one to dwell on trivialities like that.

He raised his hand high into the air and launched into a speech.

“If it’s true love, then no matter how many damn obstacles there are, you rack your brain figuring out how to overcome them—you don’t just yap about why it won’t work! Looking at you now, it’s not love—you’re just lying around feeling horny! Go take a leave and get it out of your system!”

“That’s not it! I’m serious!”

“Then beat the hell out of that damn reality! You enlisted to fight reality, didn’t you?! Why are you whining here? If it’s true love, then you go meet another woman even if it means getting shot by a subordinate furious over his sister being dumped—that’s what true love is!”

“Was your sister’s fiancé—”

“Shut your damn mouths, you bastards! Want to take a bullet in his place?!”

Patton was still fuming, but something clicked in Miller’s mind.

He had come here for the future, yet he himself hadn’t changed at all.

“I’ll go right now!”

“Oh? You going?”

“Yes. I should at least try, shouldn’t I?”

“That’s right! If it turns out it was all in your head, come right back! We’ll laugh at you together!”

Patton and the soldiers snickered like street thugs as they watched him leave. There wasn’t a shred of a colonel’s dignity in sight.

“Looks like you’ve got too much free time, sir. Even taking interest in some private’s love life.”

“What are you talking about? I’m busy worrying about the country and the future every day.”

“Is that so? Then… do you think he’ll succeed with the nurse?”

“How would I know? The hardest thing in the world to understand is relationships between men and women. War’s easier, damn it.”

If a knight seeks to win a lady, shouldn’t he at least try, even if the enemy is a dragon? If he’s the type to cower, he has no place under Yujin. Might as well cut off those useless balls of his.

Patton tried to cut the tip of his cigar with practiced ease, but accidentally nicked his fingertip.

A bit of blood seeped out. It stung and burned.

“Even your sky-high division commander married a white woman.”

“Is that really the same thing?”

“What’s the difference, when both mean making the whole world your enemy?”

He almost wished it was all just that boy’s misunderstanding.

This war had changed too much.

Black men on the battlefield.

Women on the battlefield.

And even an Asian commanding them.

In the emergency of war, everything had been permitted.

But now, there would be countless people demanding “normalcy,” and a clash between those who had bled and those who didn’t want to lose their rights was inevitable.

“Would be a hell of a lot easier to just shoot them all.”

Could his proud homeland, the United States, really watch a Black man and a white woman together with open eyes?

His instincts told him—

the homeland he would return to would be another battlefield.

***

She was alone, just as he had hoped.

Miller swallowed once and slowly stepped forward, like a soldier ordered to charge a German machine gun nest.

“Miss Evans?”

“Oh, Patient Miller. Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”

She gave him a soft smile. It felt like his heart might stop.

“No, I’m almost fully recovered. I think I’ll be discharged soon.”

“Oh, I see.”

“W-would you perhaps go out with me this coming holiday?!”

He didn’t know anymore.

Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard his platoon leader shouting, “Miller! Don’t charge in alone, you idiot!”—but he didn’t care anymore.

“I thought you’d just quietly leave after discharge. This is unexpected.”

“Y-yes?”

“You’re returning to your unit after this holiday, right? Then that’s the only day you’ll have.”

She gathered her things and stood up as she spoke.

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“Yes! Yes!! Thank you! Thank you so much!!”

“No need to be that grateful. I thought you were dense, but I guess not.”

With that, she walked away.

Clutching his pounding heart, Miller leaned against the chair she had just been sitting on.

At least for now, he couldn’t feel any fear about the future.