========================
After the madness ended, and with the satisfaction of having defeated Annapolis, the seniors finally stopped their relentless harassment.
Of course, Annapolis was furious over the incident, and West Point promised a “thorough investigation and strict punishment” to identify those responsible.
“Did you steal the flag?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.
Our fine cadets would never do such a thing.”
Despite the instructors’ intense and serious internal investigation, unfortunately, the culprits were never found.
Normally, the issue of the stolen ceremonial cannon would have been pursued just as aggressively, but the impact of the stolen flag was so great that it was quietly overlooked.
After all, what could they do if they could not find the perpetrators?
“If we go to Annapolis next time, they will try to steal our flag.”
“I will just sleep with it in my pants.”
“They would strip you just to take it.”
“Disgusting.”
Of course, rumors spread quietly among the seniors.
“Those first-years are ruthless.””This class is insane.”
But no one revealed the truth.
Or more precisely, the instructors did not seem to want to hear it either.
Now, there was only one thing left ahead of us.
Midterm exams.
“Aaaagh!”
A scream of agony echoed.
Without a doubt, someone had just been struck head-on by mathematics.
“Why do soldiers need to learn math?”
“Math is basic.
Unless you want your men to starve, you need it.”
Dwight David Eisenhower answered without even glancing at Omar Bradley.
“I think I am not American.
Why is English so hard?”
“Get a grip.
You just have to do it.”
I forced John Henry Dike’s soul back into his body.
Honestly, I did not even need to study.
In fact, I was more concerned about scoring too high and attracting attention, only to be dragged into the Corps of Engineers as some “exceptional talent.” That would be a nightmare.
Because of Cadet Brigade Commander Howard Bennion, rumors about me had spread.
Some instructors even looked at me seriously and asked, “Are you the second MacArthur?”
Damn it.
MacArthur had a war hero father.
That is a completely different level.
He had a golden spoon.
I had dirt.
While I was lost in useless thoughts, the screams of Dike and Bradley dragged me back to reality.
“Omar.”
“What?”
“Screaming will not solve the equation.”
“If I scream loud enough, maybe a medic will come solve it for me.”
“They will come and give you demerits.”
Future General of the Army Omar Bradley… was terrible at studying.
Truly terrible.
To be fair, he studied even less after hanging out with me.
Still, seeing him on the verge of failing was shocking.
Eisenhower was decent.
Weak in math, but safe.
Bradley was failing math, English, and history.
Van Fleet was average.
Dike was at risk in math and English.
Anastacio was a special case.
My goal was simple.
Score just enough to stay in the middle.
And make sure these idiots did not fail.
So I spent time tutoring them.
Then.
Knock knock.
“Who is it?”
“Uh… is Kim here?”
“I am here.”
A classmate peeked in.
It was Hubert Reilly Harmon.
Behind him stood Joseph Taggart McNarney with an annoyed expression.
“What is it?”
“It is about history.”
“Why me?”
“The instructor told me to ask you.”
“Apparently you are knowledgeable about Asian history.”
What kind of nonsense was that?
Still, this was a chance.
“Come in.
What is the problem?”
And just like that, my lecture began.
“Our goal is not to learn everything.
It is to score.
That means understanding what the instructor wants to test.
What kind of question would he use to trip us up?
That is what matters.”
“Wow…”
“You really do not study, but you think like this?”
“This will cause problems later.”
This was not the reaction I wanted.
My image-building might actually be failing.
“Enough.
Let us stop.”
“I need to clean up.”
“Polish your shoes.”
“Do mine too.”
“Get lost.”
Such a warm friendship.
Soon, the exams began.
After several days, the exams ended.
Seniors shouted and left the academy.
First-years were not allowed to go home.
“I barely passed.”
“I thought I was dead.”
Eisenhower and Bradley survived.
Good.
I had deliberately lowered my score and ended up slightly above average.
Then.
A thud.
Dike collapsed to his knees.
“No… no…”
“Dike!”
“I cannot… I…”
I checked his results.
Math and English.
Failed.
He was expelled.
He retrieved his belongings.
Returned his uniform.
Put on civilian clothes.
West Point even gave him travel money.
“Hey.”
He looked at us.
“You were leaving alone?”
Of course he was.
But we could not let him go like that.
“You are still our friend.”
“…”
“Write to us.”
“Give us your address.”
“Get lost.
My house is small.”
“Really?”
He hesitated, then wrote it down.
“You were one of the few who did not call me a monkey.”
“Write to us.”
Eisenhower patted his back.
Dike began crying again.
“I will write.”
“If you do not, we will come find you.”
We shook hands.
Then turned away.
But kept looking back.
A terrible day.
Expulsions had happened before.
But mostly due to injury.
This was different.
For a while, we trained quietly.
No grand schemes.
Just study and drills.
One day, I asked Bennion.
“Is it alright when classmates are expelled?”
“You will get used to it.”
He patted my head.
“I am already receiving news of seniors dying.”
My breath caught.
“In that sense, this is better.
It means they were not fit to lead men into battle.”
“But…”
“Is there anything emptier than ‘he died honorably’?
If his incompetence got his men killed, would he be proud?”
I had no answer.
This was a place where death was real.
And the Great War had not even begun.
For the first time, I realized.
This was not a campus story.
This was preparation for war.
We focused on training.
Winter passed.
Spring came.
Then summer.
June.
I was promoted to second-year.
And returned to San Francisco.
[Welcome, Pride of Korea]
[U.S.
Military Academy Cadet Yu-jin Kim]
The moment I stepped off the train.
I froze.
“Well then, Eugene, you have returned.”
Rhee Syngman stood there.