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On the West Point field, shouting and curses were flying everywhere.
“You idiots!
Watch the ball before you swing!
If you’re going to swing blind, do it in bed!”
“Hey… the field looks like a herd of buffalo ran through it.
The ball’s bouncing all over the place.
Shouldn’t we get a proper stadium already?”
“Eugene!
Get your head straight!
Come up with something brilliant!”
Baseball a hundred years ago was obviously different from what I knew.
This was before Babe Ruth even joined the Yankees.
It would be stranger if things were the same.
But what was common sense in my time could be revolutionary here.
They say a small beginning leads to a great end.
At first, I had to put in quite a bit of “effort” just to secure a spot on the team, but now I had established myself as someone with promising insight into the game.
Not a god of baseball, but close enough to be indispensable.
And Americans love sports.
No, West Point cadets are beyond that.
They are obsessed.
Whatever else they might think, once it was time to swing a bat, I could play the strategist, and that helped my image a lot.
“Nice play!”
“Good one.”
The game ended on a warm note.
But trouble always starts with someone clueless.
“Kim!
That was great again.
Not bad for an Asian.”
“What?”
What did he just say?
Even at my cold response, Joseph Taggart McNarney did not seem to notice anything was wrong.
“Now that I think about it, you’re not even that dark like Anastacio.
Makes sense since you’re more Japanese.
You could pass as an honorary white.
You’re American-born too, and not like those inferior blacks.
Let’s get along.”
He smiled and held out his hand.
Damn it.
When I did not take it, the situation began escalating.
From the outfield, Dwight David Eisenhower sprinted toward us like a madman.
Omar Bradley grabbed my waist, whispering for me to hold back.
James Van Fleet was about to jump in but was restrained.
“Eugene.
Hold it in.”
“I know.”
“If you fight now, what happens after graduation?
Are you going to punch everyone who talks like that?”
Bradley’s whisper turned into desperation.
Honestly, I could have endured it.
The fact that these narrow-minded fools were even talking about “honorary whites” was, in its own way, progress.
So they were trying to rebuild it in their own way.
And I had been giving them cigarettes and drinks.
This was their awkward attempt at acceptance.
Senior cadets began gathering.
Eisenhower finally arrived, breathing heavily.
I smiled and shook McNarney’s hand.
“Let’s get along.”
Relief spread.
We could not fight in front of everyone.
At least, that was the plan.
“You bastard.
Inferior?”
Crack.
Anastacio punched McNarney square in the face.
We were finished.
What followed was chaos.
Shouting, fists, blood.
We were no longer cadets, just brawling hooligans.
“Kill him!”
“Stop them!”
“Damn you!”
Eventually, instructors intervened and forced us all into punishment drills.
But nothing was actually resolved.
“You look like a mess.”
I tapped Anastacio’s bandaged forehead.
“That bastard deserved it.”
“You should have thought it through.”
“I’m not as calm as you.”
I handed him a drink mixed with alcohol.
His mood improved instantly.
“Where did you get this?”
“Just drink.”
“Where’s mine?”
The others complained.
“Hit someone and you’ll get one.”
“Idiots.”
Then,
Bang bang bang.
“Cadet Eugene Kim, are you here?”
Panic erupted.
We scrambled to hide everything.
The door opened.
A senior stood there, taking in the smoke-filled room.
“Cadet Eugene Kim.
Follow me.”
Why me?
I was dragged away.
That night, I was brought before Cadet Brigade Commander Howard Bennion.
“Sit.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I already heard about the incident.
I just have questions.”
Then he pulled out a cigarette case.
“Smoke?”
“Yes, sir.”
We smoked together.
After a moment, he spoke.
“I’ve heard about you.
Average grades.
But excellent in drills and weapons.
Any prior experience?”
“No, sir.”
“Interesting.”
Then he leaned back.
“What do you think about today?”
“I should have handled it better.”
“No.
Not that kind of answer.”
He blew smoke rings.
“You’re clever enough to run a smuggling network.
I want your real thoughts.”
I choked on the smoke.
“You’re not in trouble for that.
Just don’t bring in anything dangerous.”
That was more terrifying.
“Now answer.”
I understood.
“The problem started with McNarney’s remark.”
“Is it wrong to say blacks are inferior?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because West Point cadets are recognized by the government.
He questioned that and created division.”
“I see.”
Then he continued.
“So what is the solution?”
Why ask me?
“Soon exams will come.
Then Christmas break.
If this happens again, it becomes a bigger issue.”
He had already tried to contain it.
If he was going this far, I had to respond.
“I have an idea.”
“Oh?”
“The core issue is that they cannot accept others as equals.”
“Correct.”
“The fastest way to fix that is to give them a common enemy.”
He smiled.
“And how?”
I took a breath.
“Let me brief you.”
And just like that, my first “operation” began.
Please, just get along, you idiots.