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“I’m so damn tired.”
The cramped office of the War Department.
I tossed the documents aside and leaned back in my chair.
Deployment to the PhilippinesAviationOrdnance and doctrine developmentTokyo
Out of the four options brought by my father-in-law and Henry Ford, I ended up choosing number 3 with tears streaming down my face.
Japan.
Japan!
This was the moment I realized once again, with my own body, just how miserable American understanding of Asia was at this time.
They probably thought that instead of being sent to some Philippine garrison, it would be better to stay in “civilized” Tokyo.
What nonsense.
If I went to Tokyo and happily built friendships with Japanese officers, independence activists grinding their teeth in Korea would cross the sea just to put a bullet in my head.
It has only been five years since the country fell.
Gojong is still alive.
The Southern Righteous Army suppression was not that long ago.
A Korean face, a U.S.
uniform, surrounded by Japanese officers.
A perfect target for righteous bullets.
It has not even been ten years since Jang In-hwan and Jeon Myeong-un assassinated Stevens.
Back then, it ended with mixed thoughts like “serves him right” and “are we going to get burned for this too?” but if people like them came after my head, that would be… a bit too much.
I had no intention of taking that risk.
Sigh.
What kind of loyalty test is that.
It is a medieval trial by water.
If you float, you are a witch.
If you sink, you are innocent.
Either way, you die.
That proposal was a death sentence straight to the guillotine.
In the end, I swallowed my pride and chose to report to the War Department, and only then did Mr.
Ford and Senator Curtis smile brightly and praise me for making such a reasonable decision.
Right.
I was fooled.
What parent would want to send their newly married daughter all the way to Asia.
Of course they want her to stay right here in Washington D.C.
A worried father and a chairman who saw potential labor to exploit.
A perfect example of political-business collusion.
When I returned to the hotel after signing myself into forced labor, Dorothy also smiled brightly and asked, “You’re going to the War Department, right?”
Everyone knew except me.
And so, I became a ghost bound to D.C.
My daily routine was nothing special.
Most of it was paperwork in Washington and going back and forth to the tank factory in Detroit.
The ideas I submitted after much thinking were mostly swallowed into my superior’s drawer.
“I would like to propose improvements in machine gun deployment-”
“Congress won’t buy more machine guns.”
“I would like to propose the use of trucks for infantry transport-”
“Congress won’t buy trucks.”
“I would like to propose trench construction methods-”
“Let’s wait for data from Europe.”
Damn U.S.
Army.
Less than five thousand officers commanding just over a hundred thousand soldiers.
Expecting anything from this oversized minor power’s army was my mistake.
Truly impressive.
Of course, the army is incompetent, but after a few months I understood something else.
I am being isolated.
Of course.
Several major figures got involved just to assign one officer.
Sitting alone in what used to be a storage room, anyone would realize it.
Still, there was one thing that showed results.
That damn tank.
Henry Ford’s desire to sell tractors and my desire not to die in a trench were producing results.
While I began my military life as a soulless bureaucrat, the world situation moved rapidly. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
March 9, 1916.
Pancho Villa’s forces crossed the border and attacked New Mexico, killing 17 Americans.
For the first time since the War of 1812, the U.S.
mainland was attacked.
The country erupted.
President Woodrow Wilson called General Pershing and ordered him to capture Villa.
March 24, 1916.
The passenger ship Sussex was attacked by a German U-boat.
It did not sink, but 75 Americans were aboard.
For Americans, it revived memories of Lusitania.
Wilson, preparing for the election, sent a polite message that was essentially a threat.
Germany backed down again.
Passenger ships will not be attacked.
Merchant ships will be inspected.
Non-military ships will not be sunk.
And if sunk, passengers will be protected.
Wilson accepted it.
Mexico came first.
Before the Sussex incident.
Mid-March, Detroit.
I went on another pointless business trip.
And met an unexpected visitor.
“Hm.
So this is Ford’s new toy?”
A young white man.
Not a soldier.
Not British.
Probably government or a partner company.
He looked wealthy.
So I decided to flatter him a bit.
“Lieutenant Eugene Kim, U.S.
Army.
I assist with development.”
“Oh.
So you’re Eugene Kim.”
“May I ask where you are from-”
“Five dollars if you’re curious.”
“…What?”
What is wrong with this guy.
“Too expensive?
Then just explain this thing.”
“…What would you like to know?”
“Everything.”
“We call it a tank.
Would you like to observe a test?”
“Good.
Let’s go.”
He pushed me forward impatiently.
We arrived at the test field.
“As you can see, it moves well even on rough terrain.”
“Cavalry can do that.
And Europe is worse than this.”
“The army won’t lend artillery for testing.”
He watched silently.
Then frowned.
“It’s not stylish.”
“…What?”
“It’s loud.
Not agile.
Cavalry can turn and shoot instantly.”
But I held back.
“The turret rotates 360 degrees-”
“Show me.”
I stopped the tank and demonstrated.
“How is it?”
“Slower than a person.”
Of course it is.
“But cavalry cannot carry artillery.
A shell is stronger than a bullet.”
“That’s true.
Infantry will like it.”
He knocked on the armor.
“What about thickness-”
“Not that.
Tell them to get off.”
“…What?”
“I want to ride it.”
“It’s a two-seater.”
“Then you ride too.
Hurry.”
I climbed in with him.
He took the driver’s seat.
“This is stiff.
Weak men will cry.”
“…Haha.”
“Ride comfort is worse than a horse.
No soul.”
If it had a soul, that would be a machine spirit.
After playing around, he finally asked.
“How is fuel handled?”
“We supply it.”
“That’s a problem.
Every supply item is trouble.”
“…I haven’t been deployed.”
“Hahaha.
Of course.”
He pressed further.
“What about replacing horse supply with fuel?”
“That eliminates cavalry!
Ridiculous!”
He laughed loudly.
Then…
“Lieutenant Kim.”
“Yes.”
“Want to go to war?”
“Of course.”
“Good.
Pack your things.”
“…What?”
“Take this thing and blow up Mexicans.
General Pershing told me to take a look.”
His eyes were burning.
“Honestly, I’m more interested in you than this machine.”
“…And?”
“I’ll find out on the battlefield.”
He opened the hatch.
Sunlight poured in.
“Come with me, Lieutenant George Smith Patton Jr., and earn glory in that cactus-filled land.”
…What?
Patton?
And you’re a lieutenant too.
This is insane.