The Hundred Days Offensive (6)
The defensive strategy the German army had perfected by this point was extremely meticulous and clearly purposeful.
The front-line defenses would inevitably be subjected to a tremendous barrage the moment the enemy began their offensive.
Therefore, there was no need to station large numbers of troops at the very front. Only enough forces were deployed to delay the enemy, and even they were prepared to fall back at any time to the second or third defensive lines.
By the time the enemy captured the front-line defenses, their infantry advance would outpace their artillery support.
At that point, our side would be freed from the threat of enemy artillery and instead concentrate fire on the "trenches that had once been ours," whose coordinates had already been pre-registered, bombarding them relentlessly.
And the course of the battle was unfolding exactly as the Germans intended.
I wasn't enough of a fanatic about military glory to just ignore this mess, so after chain-smoking for a long while in frustration, I finally shut my eyes tight and headed to the command room at headquarters.
Whether those bastards listened to me or not, I was determined to fix this absurd offensive—even if this ivory-gripped pistol had to spit fire.
If you trace responsibility for this insane offensive back far enough, it ultimately leads to General Pershing.
Why was the General Staff acting like this? Obviously because Pershing was backing them.
Of course, I owed a lot to General Pershing.
This rapid promotion of mine would never have happened if he had decided to tuck away some "yellow monkey" in a corner. Personally, I had plenty to repay—even if it meant pushing his wheelchair someday.
But in the end, he too was a believer in outdated 19th-century doctrine.
An American division numbering 28,000 men—this absurdly massive formation—and that blind faith in rifle firepower… in my eyes, it was nothing short of madness, throwing soldiers straight into a furnace. Since the supreme commander thought this way, the staff followed suit.
Having lived a second life, I had often found that real historical figures differed from the vague impressions I'd gotten from books. Yet I had unconsciously assumed Pershing was a flawless military hero.
I was mistaken.
Then it had to be corrected.
You can shout all day that "the country lives only when Confucius dies," but if your body is still that of a Confucian-minded bastard, then when your superior spouts nonsense, the proper thing to do is bark along with him if necessary—just to drag him back to reason.
Unfortunately, someone else had already started raising hell before me.
"What exactly is it that you people do, eating up such expensive rations? I cannot understand it at all."
"Brigadier General MacArthur! Retract that insult at once!"
"Insult? If you collected the last words of the dead soldiers, you'd hear the same thing. Have you even been to the wards? Ah, my apologies. Even if you had, you wouldn't hear much. In case you didn't know, our soldiers are dying on the roadside before they even make it there."
Because of this man's unusually sharp and cynical tone, the atmosphere in the staff room had already turned Siberian.
"Do you know this? Right after the Saint-Mihiel offensive, Metz was practically empty. Why in the world did we head for that damned hill instead of striking Metz?"
"That's because a mere division cannot arbitrarily alter the grand strategy of the Allied forces."
"Arbitrarily? Arbitrarily? What was the purpose of attacking the Meuse-Argonne? To capture Sedan! Because of the railway network there! But taking Metz would have achieved the same result—collapsing the enemy's rail system! Just look at this catastrophe your desk-bound planning has caused!"
"I don't understand your baseless confidence that Metz could have been taken, but don't act as though you alone are competent. We are, after all, part of the Allied forces—"
"Hah. Enough. There's no point talking with people who only know desks. Where is General Pershing? I can't stand this—I'll have to speak to him directly."
"He is not here, so speak to me."
At Chief of Staff Drum's cold reply, MacArthur frowned.
"You're in command now? Do you not even recognize that this is a matter between a subordinate commander and a higher command?"
"General Pershing has gone down to Chaumont. In his absence, you may speak to me as Chief of Staff. Is that really something that requires such grand phrasing about 'recognition'? If you insist on seeing him, go to Chaumont yourself."
No, don't.
If you provoke little Mac like that, he only gets more vicious.
Despite my quiet wish, MacArthur's expression had already soured. Anyone could see his pride had been scratched raw.
"Hold on, hold on. Gentlemen, let's all calm down—may I say a word?"
"And who are you—ah, General Kim. Are you also here to complain about an operation already underway?"
What an unpleasant tone.
"It's not like an operation plan is scripture. For the sake of better results, shouldn't we be able to make adjustments?"
"It's only the first day. If we start changing things now, the front lines will only fall into greater confusion. Is this about not capturing Montfaucon? The left and right wings are advancing just fine."
"It seemed rather chaotic when I inspected it—"
"Inspected? You went wandering around other units' positions?"
Drum looked appalled.
What's the big deal? If I'm curious, I can go take a look. Like going to an away game—just observation, nothing more. I wasn't swinging a bat or anything. Just watching, that's all.
"Let's set aside the chatter. Based on the current situation, there are a few things I'd like to request."
"…Go on, then."
"The enemy artillery positions have not yet been neutralized. Setting everything else aside, we should deploy as many aircraft as possible and eliminate those damned batteries on the high ground first."
I tossed out a few key suggestions, and though Drum was clearly irritated, he listened in silence. Fortunately, MacArthur refrained from adding anything that might further inflame him.
Whether it was faith in rifles or anything else, I couldn't meddle too much as the commander of a different division.
But interfering in strategic priorities? That much should be allowed.
Just as Drum was about to respond after a moment's thought—
"Report!"
"Speak."
"Our light tank brigade has encountered strong enemy counterattacks! Brigade Commander Patton—killed in action!"
…What?
What did he just say?
"Patton is dead? That madman?"
Even MacArthur couldn't hide his shock.
There was no way Patton was dead.
Obviously, the Second World War—when Patton would truly make his name—was still decades away.
So this had to be a false report.
But what if I had already changed history?
What if, through that butterfly effect, Patton had actually died?
I found myself wondering what I should do next.
"What is the brigade's condition? Is it unable to continue operations?"
"That will require further reports—"
"It must be… a false report."
I steadied my breathing.
"There's no way Senior Patton is dead."
"Brigadier General Kim, calm yourself. I am well aware of your relationship, but on the battlefield—"
No, who are you calling unstable?
This makes no sense logically. That man is supposed to go collect Hitler's head—why would he die here?
"Yujin. I know this is shocking, but…"
"I'm telling you, he's not dead! Why would that lunatic medieval knight die?!"
This was driving me insane.
If I said something like, "Actually, I know the future, and Patton isn't destined to die yet," I'd be thrown straight into a mental hospital. I could barely breathe from the frustration.
I tried to speak as rationally as possible, but these people simply wouldn't listen.
Fortunately, a new report came in soon after.
"Correction to previous report. Brigadier General Patton is confirmed alive. He is being evacuated with severe injuries."
"See?! I told you that guy wouldn't die!"
For some reason, everyone in the staff room was looking at me with lukewarm, almost pitying expressions.
These people… they all think I completely lost it after hearing news of a close senior's death, don't they?
"Now then, have a cup of warm tea and calm yourself first."
Just moments ago he had been snapping like a strict drill instructor, but now Chief of Staff Drum suddenly acted like a concerned uncle fussing over his nephew. He handed me a cup of tea and practically forced me out of the room.
In the end, I didn't even get to properly discuss the operation. At this point, I had no choice but to rely on MacArthur.
After driving me out, MacArthur and Drum immediately resumed their astonishing argument, but there was no longer any place for me to step in.
Ha… if it weren't for that damned false report.
Whether alive or dead, that man really was like a dandelion—spreading trouble everywhere. I'll have to visit him later and make fun of him.
****
The Chaumont staff, led by Pershing, did not revise their strategy.
Instead, they pressed even harder on the units that had failed to meet their objectives. It was horrifying.
At least one of my suggestions was implemented—the suppression of the artillery positions in the Argonne heights. Freed at last from the relentless shelling, American forces intensified their offensive and finally captured Montfaucon, which had been exacting a terrible blood price.
The rain, which had been falling continuously, escalated from a mere drizzle to a full-blown "torrential downpour—someone save us!" level, and the American advance, dependent on single-lane unpaved roads, became even more bogged down. Even someone as capable as Marshall couldn't maintain supply lines when roads turned into mud overnight.
And as a natural result, Pershing came under constant criticism throughout September.
French politicians, furious at the stalled American offensive, pushed Foch even harder. Prime Minister Clemenceau even openly suggested replacing Pershing with someone else. Foch, of course, tore into Pershing relentlessly, to the point of saying, "If you're going to work like this, then hand over command entirely."
And at last, Pershing made his decision.
"The units that took part in the Saint-Mihiel offensive will be sent to the front, and those currently exhausted will be rotated to the rear for reorganization."
But the 93rd Division was excluded.
Was it that damned race issue again? Or… was it me?
While I struggled to suppress my anger, American forces continued to be ground down, and Pershing followed up with another decision.
"I will step down as commander of the First Army."
"General!!"
"I will withdraw from the front and focus on my duties as commander of the expeditionary forces in Chaumont. Major General Hunter Liggett will take command of the First Army."
Then he began listing personnel orders one after another.
"The First Army has grown too large, reducing operational efficiency. Therefore, we will establish a Second Army. General Bullard will command it."
"Understood."
"Corps Commander Cameron—you are relieved of duty."
"What?! Why is it that you only listen to that damned Chief of Staff? This was clearly a failure of higher command's operations!"
"Your lack of offensive spirit was the greater problem."
After that, the heads of numerous division commanders rolled. But with Pershing himself stepping down from First Army command, there were few who could withstand his authority.
"Brigadier General Yujin Kim."
"Yes, General."
"The staff still expresses concern about deploying the 93rd Division."
"This is not merely about combat performance. If a Black unit is deployed, there may be issues with discipline and morale among other units—"
"What do you think?"
Pershing cut off Drum's rambling nonsense and stared straight at me.
What should I say here?
Tell him to stop posturing after getting so many men killed?
Say I've been suffocating from frustration this whole time?
At this rate, I'll be the one who dies first, you bastards.
I pulled out my notebook, tore out a page, and bit my finger.
"General Kim!"
"What are you doing?!"
"In the East, we have a fine tradition—blood-written pledges."
Damn, this hurts like hell. Romance of the Three Kingdoms was all lies. Curse Luo Guanzhong.
"Prepare 28,000 body bags. I will either use every single one of them… or bring you a victory report. One of the two—I will make it certain."
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