The Mage of Leavenworth (2)
After Curtis Jr. left, I sat alone, lost in thought.
Franklin Roosevelt.
Also known as FDR.
The wheelchair-bound politician who served as president longer than anyone in American history.
Even with my patchy knowledge of history, I at least know about the New Deal and the Marshall Plan.
But… in this timeline, could he really become president?
This whole political scene is impossible to get a read on.
It feels like things don't quite match the history I know.
Take Herbert Hoover, for example.
As far as I remember, he got hit head-on by the Great Depression and ended up as one of the Republican "hopeless trio" alongside Harding and Bush.
But the Hoover I saw in this second life worked under Wilson, and earlier there was talk of him running for the presidency alongside Roosevelt. And now he even showed up again as a candidate in the Republican primaries. What the hell is this?
Anyway, unlike in the original timeline, Wilson didn't just fail—he rocketed off toward idealism like a lunar mission and then spectacularly exploded mid-flight.
So wouldn't Hoover and Roosevelt, who worked under him, have been affected too? Could they really still become president?
I don't know.
But if that Roosevelt really is the FDR I know, then I have to invest in him—no matter what.
A man who holds power for over a decade? There's no way I can ignore that. Even if I have to put on the performance of a lifetime, I have to secure that connection.
Still, what I needed to focus on right now wasn't Roosevelt.
If I got too caught up in matters outside the military and failed at my actual duties, what kind of idiot would that make me? I had no intention of selling my soul to politics like the Japanese army.
The process of getting Leavenworth back in order was a complete mess.
"Focusing on the case at Amiens, we'll try to understand the commander's decision-making process using limited information."
"What about Cambrai?"
"I consider Cambrai to be a rather unique case. We'll revisit that topic later."
This…
This is unbelievably embarrassing.
No matter how thick-skinned I am, I'm not a politician. With my Confucian instincts still lingering somewhere deep inside, telling people decades more senior than me, "Please learn from my incredible achievements," was pure torture.
But where am I?
America—a place overflowing with machismo and a fascination with badassery.
"Let's assume you are General Grodeck, commander of the German 208th Division. A force from what you've always considered a second-rate country. Soldiers who are black. And on top of that, a commander not even thirty years old! Would you have been able to stop the offensive?"
"…Hmm."
"But even after encountering an enemy force of nearly 30,000, wouldn't a rational commander consider pausing to regroup?"
"Exactly. A rational commander would think that way. But!"
Bang!
I slammed the podium hard, raising my voice.
"Even if your superiors ordered you to advance, could you have stopped?"
"..."
"You knew full well that the success or failure of the operation—no, the very survival of your nation—was on the line. Could you really have chosen to slow down?"
"Well, if it's an order from above…"
"Feels uneasy, doesn't it? That's why the 208th Division couldn't overcome that immense pressure and charged straight into Amiens."
If I had chalk, I could draw the map of Amiens in my sleep. How many times have I drawn this thing already?
Even as my hand sketched out the battlefield, my mouth kept moving.
"Considering that the 93rd Division had no prior combat experience, there's a high chance the Germans sensed something suspicious during the initial feint."
"But not enough to stop their advance."
"Exactly. Why do you think that is? Do you believe there wasn't a single capable officer in the German army who felt something was off about that engagement?"
Without waiting for an answer, I continued.
"Even if they knew, they couldn't say it to their superiors. Why? Same conclusion as before—they'd essentially be suggesting disobeying orders, and they feared the consequences."
This was the core of it all.
Not just in the military—this is why every organization eventually goes wrong.
If the instincts and judgment of those working at the front lines don't reach the top, things always fall apart.
In that sense, I could proudly say I had operated the 93rd Division perfectly.
A shared understanding: victory means glory, defeat means the end of your career.
Soldiers full of fighting spirit, and an environment where even a mere aide could tell the division commander to stop being an idiot.
Complete trust in subordinates, and in return, subordinate commanders who acted decisively beyond the limits of formal authority.
Of course, that was only possible because I knew their capabilities inside and out.
There's no way a 369th Regiment led by Ike and one led by someone like Drum would perform the same.
"Therefore, senior commanders must keep communication channels open so that voices from the front lines can rise freely."
"And what if that leads to a breakdown of discipline?"
"And did the Germans win because of their strict discipline?"
After wrapping up the lecture in a whirlwind and collapsing into my office chair—
"The cavalry boys want to see you."
"…Why again?"
"You don't seriously think Captain Chaffee was the only one interested in tanks, do you? There are truckloads of people in Leavenworth who want to crack your head open and see what's inside."
"Honestly, I'm a little curious myself."
Mcnary said that with the faintest twitch of a smile—like he was ready to split my skull open at any moment.
He scares me.
Mom, I'm working among dangerous people…
I had no excuse to refuse, so I dragged myself over—and was immediately greeted by booming voices and a barrage of handshakes.
"Captain Kim! Hurry! Let's get started!"
"Just because the age of cavalry horses is ending doesn't mean our desire to rampage through enemy lines has ended! A new era demands new methods!"
"Start with Cambrai! From the moment the cork was first popped out of the Hindenburg Line—"
Chaffee wasn't unusual.
All cavalrymen were like this.
Come to think of it, Chaffee had originally been infantry before transferring. Compared to true, purebred cavalry officers, he was actually a tiny bit calmer.
"Is this really the time for personal impressions? We should first hear about lessons learned in breaking enemy defenses!"
"From now on, every cavalry officer in the United States will grow up hearing stories of the Hindenburg Line breakthrough like a lullaby at West Point! We must preserve this knowledge before it fades!"
"This guy's hilarious. Step outside! Duel! The winner decides!"
"You think I'd back down from a duel? Draw your sword!"
Did I come here to talk to U.S. officers, or negotiate with a bandit chief from Mexico?
Suddenly, I missed Patton.
***
After being thoroughly harassed by the cavalry maniacs, I was summoned by Drum.
No. I'm going to die at this rate. Yujin Kim's life bar is already at zero.
"Captain Kim."
"Yes, sir."
Drum, clearly in a good mood, savored the aroma of his coffee as he spoke.
"The 'seal pups' want to discuss Pacific strategy with you. Do you have time?"
"Seal pups?"
"Ah, yes. It seems your last special lecture made quite an impression."
Drum spread out a map of the Pacific across his desk.
"As you know better than anyone, most operational and contingency planning in the Asia-Pacific region is handled by those seal pups. Frankly, all we need to do is hold the Philippines and Hawaii, isn't that right?"
The problem is… we can't hold the Philippines.
A product of pride—we need at least one colony to maintain our prestige!—and the result was a money pit.
At first, those stuffed-shirt types thought the Philippines would be a huge help for trade with China, but in reality, it just devoured money. Completely unprofitable.
Gaining a colony is about prestige—but abandoning one, especially after going to war for it, damages prestige even more. That's why Wilson made such a show of promising independence.
"There's no real need for our U.S. Army to cater to the interests of those seal pups, but what can we do when those poor fellows come begging for our wisdom?"
I'd bet Ike's balls—and throw in Omar's too—that the Navy never begged for anything. Those guys have absurd pride; they think they're on the level of the British Royal Navy.
As a refined member of the Army, the proper move here would be to tease them a bit—Come on, beg a little more. Say it—who were you thinking of?—but judging by Drum's tone, he clearly wanted me to cooperate with the Navy.
And after hearing about Franklin Roosevelt…
There was no reason not to.
That man? A hardcore navy fanatic.
If I make a good impression on the Navy here, then when I meet FDR later, things will probably go much more smoothly.
"Understood. I don't really have much to discuss with them… but it seems the Chief is generous enough to accept even the pitiful requests of those seal pups."
"Haha. As expected of Captain Kim. That's right—there aren't many in the Army who can cooperate with those obnoxious, alcohol-soaked bastards. It takes someone of my character to manage it."
So that's why he wants to become the head of the Army. His ambition is written all over his face.
"I'd appreciate it if you could let them know I'm open to it. Do I have to go all the way to their den?"
"Hmmm. I'll think a bit more about that."
That mindset—calculating how to squeeze every last drop of advantage. Excellent. Go fleece those seal pups properly.
"And one more thing."
"Yes, sir."
"The Army Air Corps would also like to hear your thoughts."
Those Air Corps guys, who used to be glorified servants in the Signal Corps aviation branch, have finally gotten their promotion in status.
They're still within our umbrella, so they're not a big problem… but isn't my workload getting a bit excessive? What am I, a rag? Even if you wring me harder, no more water's coming out.
"In my personal opinion, air superiority will become a key issue for the Army in the future."
"That's quite a high evaluation."
That was a bit unexpected.
"In the end, commanders and staff in the rear can only rely on limited information. Whether you can secure air superiority and conduct proper reconnaissance will determine whether you're one-eyed… or completely blind."
"You're absolutely right."
"The problem is those Air Corps fellows don't always know their place. Still, could you exchange some opinions with them?"
Well, when ordered, you obey.
Being busy is a kind of happiness. If I keep working this much, they won't be able to transfer me elsewhere.
"If you let me know the schedule, I'll prepare."
"Haha! Thank you! One day, I'll make great use of you, Captain Kim!"
Leaving behind Drum's hollow promise, I returned to my beloved quarters.
What a storm of a day.
Dorothy, who should have been greeting me warmly, took my coat and immediately whispered—
"Your younger brother is here."
"My brother? Yushin or Yuin?"
"Hyung."
"Why are you here? What about the company?"
"Well… something came up."
And then—Yushin, who should've been in San Francisco, slowly got up from my precious sofa.
What now? Does he need more work? Has he finally developed a work ethic?
"I showed up without notice. Sorry."
"It happens. Must've been urgent."
"Hyung… you know I've always relied on you, right?"
"…Did you smoke opium or something?"
"Damn it. Watch your mouth."
Ah, that's more like it. For a second, I was genuinely worried seeing him act all polite and soft.
Human DNA is naturally wired with the urge to twist a sibling's neck. This is a truth passed down since biblical times.
Suspicious that this guy had suddenly decided to become Arthas or something, I led him into the study—which, lately, had been seeing a strange increase in visitors.
"Spit it out. What kind of trouble did you cause?"
"Huh?"
"Is the company about to collapse? Or did you kill someone? Do you need father-in-law connections, a chairman, or a black hitman—"
"It's not like that, you lunatic. If you're my brother, act like one."
He was visibly shaken but trying to compose himself. Yeah… this wasn't a minor screw-up.
"Haah…"
"What is it? Just say it."
"You trust me, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. Of course I trust my little brother. So stop messing around and get to the point. I'm busy."
Even then, he hesitated for a long while before finally dropping a bombshell.
"There's someone I want to marry—"
"Good! Finally, you're getting married! That's right, a man should build a family and have children. Yes, yes! Do you know how much I've been scolded by Father for getting married so quickly myself but not arranging matches for my siblings? This is great. Really great."
I guess I should cancel those arranged meetings I'd been looking into. At least now I don't have to worry that this guy might be interested in… other things.
"So… I was hoping you could help me…"
"Why are you beating around the bush? Did you get her pregnant? Or is it a family status issue?"
"Her family… doesn't quite match ours…"
Ha. What a very 1920s problem.
What's the big deal about family background?
"Listen carefully. You're choosing someone to spend your life with. If her family is better than ours, I'll go over there myself, beg on my knees, and ask for their daughter's hand—so don't worry. And if her family is the problem, then you just stand as her shield as her husband. Got it?"
"Th-thanks."
"So which is it? Do I need to prepare the mat? Should I import one from Joseon?"
"No, it's neither—"
"Then what is it!"
"She's… Japanese…"
"You little bastard! Have you lost your mind?!"
My hectopascal kick landed on his chest before my words even finished.
Seriously… there's never a peaceful day in my life.
It's always the quiet ones who cause the worst disasters.
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE : https://beastnovels.com/