Grinning Army Maker (3)
Damn this U.S. Army. I must've been crazy to join the Army.
I should've done whatever it took to get into the Navy. Then I wouldn't be suffering through this "disarmament" nonsense like this.
Honestly, it's all just regret that came too late.
If I'd gone to the Navy and spent my days scrubbing the deck while being called a "yellow monkey," I probably wouldn't even be able to complain like this.
Besides, I saw King suffering too, so I know full well the Navy couldn't escape disarmament either.
Still, the Navy didn't descend into this kind of absurd chaos. No—seriously, we're supposed to be the army of a victorious nation, so why the hell are we getting beaten down like this? Did I unknowingly immigrate to Germany or something?
All that keeps piling up is regret, but what can you do? That's life.
According to the newly proposed National Defense Act, the Tank Corps is to be dissolved, and naturally, the armored branch won't even be established. The remaining two heavy tank battalions and four light tank battalions will each be subordinated under infantry units.
What kind of lightning strike nonsense is this supposed to be?
We shed so much blood to acquire the Tank Corps' military know-how and all those techniques.
And now they're just going to chop it all off?
Even if I've been taking the stance that I want to step away from tanks, this is something I just can't accept.
No matter how obsessed they are with disarmament, at the very least they should preserve a spark of armored forces so we can prepare for the next great war—the Second World War.
I had no choice but to intervene. Besides, if the very concept of tanks just fades away like this, it'll deal a major blow to the core of my career. You could say this is an unavoidable choice driven by my own self-interest.
I returned to Leavenworth in a foul mood, and perhaps someone noticed my expression, because I was soon summoned by Drum.
"Major Kim, is the child healthy?"
"Thanks to your consideration, sir, a healthy daughter was born. Thank you."
Even though my face must've looked like a rotten tomato, Drum remained relaxed the entire time.
"Care for a cup of coffee?"
"If you're offering, I'd be grateful."
"Adjutant. Two cups of coffee."
Soon, steaming cups of coffee were brought in, but I was too irritated to even touch mine.
"What's the matter, Major Kim? You seem quite displeased."
"I heard about the new National Defense Act."
"Disarmament was inevitable. It's regrettable, but we must respect the choice of the citizens of the United States."
He took a sip of coffee, putting on an affected air of elegance like some British aristocrat.
He looks especially annoying today, this old man.
"I heard the Tank Corps is being dissolved."
"That's right. Only natural."
"Natural, you say? The United States was the first in the world to standardize tanks. Isn't it a terrible waste to throw away such a valuable military tradition?"
"Throw it away? The tank is simply returning to its original role."
Drum set down his cup with a sharp click.
"If anything, I find you harder to understand. Weren't you in the process of distancing yourself from tanks?"
"I have other duties as well, but tanks were a concept I first proposed. How could I just abandon my own creations like that?"
"That's a bit odd. Did General Pershing not say anything to you?"
Why is Pershing coming up here?
But Drum's next words left me stunned.
"The dissolution of the Tank Corps was General Pershing's decision. To be precise, Congress questioned him, and he stated that disbanding it was appropriate. I merely provided him with the most accurate judgment and its reasoning."
Pershing? Pershing abandoned the Tank Corps?
The back of my head suddenly felt hot.
"Of course, tanks were useful in the last war. No one denies that."
"Then why—"
"Our American Expeditionary Forces learned a very valuable lesson on the battlefields of Europe. That the powerful firepower of United States infantry, armed with indomitable will and fighting spirit, can break through any defensive line."
Uh… what is he even talking about?
Did you fight in a different war or something?
So what—General Drum fought in some alternate Earth where U.S. infantry used the Force or telekinesis in World War I? Or does he think his soldiers were clones?
What does he think the hell of the Meuse-Argonne was?
You bastards sat back in Chaumont and sent soldiers armed with nothing but bolt-action rifles straight into German machine-gun nests.
Fighting spirit? Infantry firepower? Bullshit—there was no firepower, so they crawled forward like dogs and died!
After losing all those unjust lives, stacking mountains of corpses and shedding tears of blood just to barely push the enemy back, what comes out of people like Drum is, "See? We broke through, didn't we? We weren't wrong!"
Are you even human?
Have you spent so long flipping maps and paperwork in the rear that you've forgotten the meaning of the lives behind those numbers, you broken screw of a man?
They say when someone is overwhelmed by absurdity and rage, they start to laugh. Before I knew it, a grin had spread across my face.
But seeing that, Drum must have thought I understood, because he continued his speech with even more enthusiasm.
"Powerful artillery will undoubtedly be an essential element of future wars. I agree with that. But in the last war, artillery lost its effectiveness due to the lack of communication. At the moment it was most needed, it couldn't be used—mere spectators! In the end, the only firepower soldiers at the front can rely on is the rifle in their hands! Why can't you understand such a simple truth?
The concentration of rifle fire through turning the entire U.S. Army into expert marksmen—combined with supporting artillery. That is the doctrine General Pershing and our finest staff have synthesized from the Great War: Open Warfare."
This is… this is just the Imperial Japanese Army, you lunatics.
I used to call them a second-rate army of a second-rate power, didn't I? I take it back. You're not even a second-rate power—you're a fake one, a sham power staffed by unlicensed soldiers.
An unlicensed doctor only kills patients, but you people are about to drain the lives of every precious son drafted from someone else's family.
World War I proved, beyond any doubt, that rifle fire alone can never suppress defensive lines filled with trenches, barbed wire, machine guns, and artillery.
To break through that cursed Hindenburg Line, I and the frontline commanders had to throw everything we had to the extreme—mortars, machine guns, tanks, aircraft, artillery, assault units—every possible means, just to barely achieve our objective.
And the conclusion these bastards reached is, "We weren't wrong. Infantry is enough"? Damn, I want a pistol. I just want to shoot them all cleanly.
"…Is that all?"
"Oh, my apologies. Let me be clear. I should have told you first—there will be no damage to your career even if the Tank Corps is abolished. Tanks themselves will remain. As a weapon to safely deliver infantry to enemy trench lines, tanks still have value."
"No—that's not what I was asking."
What meaning is there in turning it into some rolling pillbox? This thick-headed man…
As I kept my mouth tightly shut, Drum fiddled with his coffee cup for a moment, then suddenly puffed up as if he'd solved some grand riddle.
"Seems I momentarily forgot what kind of man you are."
"Then—"
"Yes. I'll be blunt. In the end, this is about politics. Why should we hand a new weapon over to those cavalry bastards?"
Wow. Of all things, it comes down to a turf war over rice bowls now.
Impressive. Truly impressive.
"This isn't just about turf. In the last war, we confirmed that tanks can't be used for long periods and have significantly low operational rates. If a tank breaks down deep in enemy territory, it's a total loss—but if it breaks down among our own infantry, we can recover and repair it. Tanks are too expensive to be used as disposable tools."
Finally, some actual facts came out of Drum's mouth.
They're too expensive to hand over to the cavalry—what can you do about that?
But instead of concluding, "Let's improve the technology so tanks break down less," they concluded, "Since they break down anyway, don't take them too far." Anyone could see the influence of bureaucratic self-interest there.
"With this, we can finally get rid of MacArthur for good. He's openly opposing General Pershing's new Army doctrine and busy filling cadets at West Point with bad ideas. Thinking about that bastard getting shipped off to the Philippines soon—it's delightful. Hahaha!!"
He stood up, laughing as he patted my shoulder while I remained seated.
"This is all thanks to you, Major. You have to seize opportunities when they come. For some reason Marshall has been acting passively, so now is the perfect chance to demonstrate strong momentum to the world—and firmly imprint that Drum is the rightful successor to General Pershing."
Hmm… Drum as Chief of Staff. That's… pretty horrifying.
Is this what they call a disaster of one's own making?
Whether it's the Korean Army or the U.S. Army, in the end, the core branch is infantry.
So Drum's calculation—to gain support from the infantry branch and use that as a stepping stone to the Chief of Staff position—was, unexpectedly, very realistic.
"Take it."
"What is this?"
Drum handed me a small envelope.
"General Pershing is planning to host a small gathering at his house soon. You should come and show your face. That's how you get ahead—by making appearances at these little events."
Now he's even giving me solemn advice. How touching.
"Let me say this just in case."
His voice suddenly dropped.
"Don't make the mistake of clinging to trivial matters and losing something greater."
"Trivial matters?"
"MacArthur is finished. I know you two are acquainted, but mind your conduct. No one welcomes a bat. You understand what I mean, don't you?"
"…Understood."
No fence-sitting.
My side—or your side.
The blade Drum had drawn was finally pointed at me.
I had to choose.
***
Damn it. This isn't how it's supposed to go.
Drum's momentum is at its peak. A soaring stock—like Tesla stock skyrocketing like crazy.
And behind him stands Pershing. Of course he's so confident—he's backed by Pershing. I mean, if it's Pershing's call, who can oppose it?
But that just makes it more tempting.
I, Yujin Kim, am the kind of contrarian who, when threatened, will stubbornly say, "Nope, don't wanna," even if it's the right thing.
Even a correct statement pisses me off if it's delivered in an annoying tone—and since this is clearly wrong, I have even less reason to hold back.
Who's justice? I am justice. These bad adults trying to reduce noble tanks to mere infantry lackeys will not be forgiven by this President Slayer.
I had just been told not to associate with the "ruined" MacArthur, yet I shamelessly went to see him anyway—for exactly that reason.
MacArthur's finished? No way.
MacArthur is the real winner. At least in my first life's memories, there's no such thing as Chief of Staff Drum.
MacArthur may have been criticized, but he left an immortal mark on world history—and the same goes for Marshall. Sure, my reckless move this time might tangle my career, but as long as those two exist, I'll find a way to survive.
So, with backing secured—let's charge in.
Wow, being able to act without worrying about the consequences is such a wonderful feeling!
"So, you called me here again?"
"Haha. Isn't it a junior's duty to serve a senior like the heavens?"
But… General Mac, what happened to you?
His face looked gaunt, lips dry, and the dark circles under his eyes couldn't be hidden.
Anyone could tell—this was the face of a defeated man.
I'm here preparing to raise hell, trusting only in you, and you look like this?
Please don't tell me the future has changed because of me. Please.
"The Tank Corps? Or the Air Corps? Which one?"
"The Air Corps has issues too?"
"They're actually benefiting this time. The fact you're asking means it's the tank issue."
MacArthur rubbed his face dryly and muttered,
"Give it up this time. It's not a fight you can win."
"I don't expect to save everything. But shouldn't we at least preserve the basic framework?"
"If we give up tank units, the calculations show we can operate more infantry units with that budget. This isn't a matter of military logic anymore, Major."
It's about how many positions remain for those 'heavenly stars.'
At MacArthur's final words, my head throbbed violently.
Yeah… that sounds about right.
Jobs matter, after all. Of course they do.
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