The Mage of Leavenworth (10)
With a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, King and I stepped out of the study and into the garden to catch some fresh air.
"I'm currently in charge of the Naval Postgraduate School, so my primary duty isn't actually drafting Asia-Pacific strategy, but designing educational curricula for future naval officers."
"That's an extremely important role."
"You've proven your ability by organizing, training, and leading a division composed of bla—… soldiers of color into combat and achieving distinction. Do you have any advice that might be of use?"
No matter how you look at it, the Army—churning out officers like fish-shaped buns—and the Navy aren't the same.
Even that damned '30-day miracle' was honestly terrifying. To be frank, even I, who trained them, couldn't fully trust the abilities of those freshly minted junior officers, so I relied heavily on West Point graduates.
"There won't be many wars left where officers can be produced like that."
"I think I understand, but I'm not entirely sure what you mean."
"Officers will need far more advanced education going forward. For example, in this war, infantry officers were rushed through training and deployed, but aircraft pilots couldn't be produced that way."
"So you're saying the number of skills that must be learned will increase."
"Wouldn't that apply even more to the Navy?"
"I completely agree. During this war, the U.S. Navy was utterly haphazard. It was appalling. If things continue like this, I seriously doubt how well we could fight those island pirates and Eastern mon—… ah, pardon. The Japs."
We could no longer bring ourselves to discuss the Philippines any further.
That was the domain of politics.
To step into that arena, one would have to enter politics outright—like Leonard Wood, former Army Chief of Staff and a leading presidential candidate. And the fact that Wood was one of the strongest advocates for holding the Philippines made things all the more troublesome.
King didn't say it outright, but I could vaguely grasp what he—and the Navy—were thinking.
If the Philippines survived, they would rescue it.
But the likelihood of it holding out for over a year was slim.
So they might as well plan under the assumption that it would fall.
They called it "Plan B in case the Philippines falls," but in reality, that was the true plan—and any plan to save the Philippines was nothing more than an elaborate paper exercise.
Then what about the Army?
That was equally tricky.
The Philippines had the Philippine Scouts, a semi-military force, and a separate Philippine Department command structure. Why should I stick my neck out and get cursed at for something no one even asked me to do?
If they threw me into the position of commander of the Philippine Department, I'd have the confidence to ignite a long and bitter political war myself. But unless that happens, there's no need to tie a bell around the cat's neck.
There are still twenty years left.
This isn't a field for a mere captain like me to meddle in.
That damned King, before leaving, told Henry—who bowed politely and said, "Goodbye"—
"Our brave little boy, make sure to come to Annapolis when you grow up."
A curse, if I've ever heard one.
Then he added that I should visit once the baby was born, and left. Another reason to sprinkle salt behind him.
I've dealt with all kinds of people to get where I am—but this King fellow might truly be the most wicked of them all. And I'm supposed to send my son into a den full of monsters like him? Not a chance.
But just because King left didn't mean my worries left with him.
Let's think positively.
Even in the original timeline, the U.S. military couldn't resolve this problem before the Pacific erupted in 1941. Unless I'm some miraculous strategist or genius administrator, it would be stranger if I did come up with a perfect solution.
Besides, this issue is deeply tied to the political core of the United States.
As I always say, this country is built on people whose motto is basically, "Don't wanna—so there."
Americans were already preoccupied just trying to make a living across this vast continent. It was only a tiny group—capitalists, interventionists, military men, and hawkish politicians—who insisted, "We need colonies too!" and pushed through all sorts of nonsense. The result was the Philippines.
For Americans who had long mocked Britain and France as hypocrites exploiting colonies while preaching liberty and equality—and sneered at Germany and Russia as backward autocracies—the idea of acquiring colonies must have sounded absurd.
So when they occupied the Philippines, it was wrapped in propaganda and manipulation.
"Let's liberate the Philippines from Spanish imperialists! It is the mission of the free United States!"
They quietly swallowed the Philippines whole, and later justified staying with lines like:
"These poor natives still require protection and education. As Christians, it is our duty to guide them temporarily. This is not a colony, of course. We're not like those British or French imperialists, after all—haha."
Deception. Propaganda.
And now, that very justification had become a shackle.
If they just granted independence and ran, it was obvious the Philippines would fall under another great power. Its weak economy would lead to debt, and in this era, that meant economic dependence followed by colonization.
Abandon the defense of the Philippines?
Do that, and all those grand justifications and propaganda collapse into trash—and the people who once advocated taking the Philippines would be branded as traitors of the highest order.
It felt like leaving a crossword puzzle with just one clue unsolved—
except this one was a nuclear bomb.
Not a bomb where cutting the red or blue wire defuses it—cut anything wrong, and it detonates instantly, leaving poor Yujin Kim to vanish like Chernobyl in a mushroom cloud.
With that final encounter with King, the year 1920 came to an end.
The great chaos called war was gradually fading into memory.
And the era of the Harding administration—promising that everything would be "normal" again—was approaching.
People were filled with hope for the future. They believed that with two fists and determination, the American Dream would last forever.
Business, too, saw major changes.
The Dodge brothers, who had threatened the Ford Motor Company, finally sold all their shares under Henry Ford's relentless pressure—and while preparing a new venture with that money, both of them unexpectedly died of illness.
Taking this opportunity, Edsel Ford and I pestered Henry Ford relentlessly to acquire Dodge. And when I performed an especially persuasive "dance of temptation"—arguing that we should sell as many military trucks as possible while the Black Lotus effect still lingered—the chairman relented and entrusted Edsel with the acquisition negotiations.
Construction had begun on a school for employees' children after selecting a site, and negotiations were underway with several universities—on the condition that we would fund what was tentatively called the "Yujin Kim Scholarship" and pay for the construction of a "Yujin Kim Hall."
I asked them several times to change that ridiculous name, but no one listened. The fallen authority of a head of household—how tragic.
And then there was The Sun.
And the Hollywood expansion project as well.
Everything was falling into place smoothly, and all that remained was to wait for the day when the fruits would be harvested.
As I watched each carefully laid plan unfold just as intended, I spent the approaching year of 1921 with my family in quiet happiness—
when I received a telegram.
To Yujin.
Dowd is dead.
***
Dowd Dwight Eisenhower.
Born September 24, 1917.
Died January 2, 1921.
On a snowy day, I reunited with Ike for the first time since the war.
He looked completely broken.
"Thank you for coming."
"Of course I came."
His eyes were swollen raw from crying.
"Scarlet fever."
They had hired a neighbor's young girl as a babysitter. That was common enough.
Scarlet fever wasn't particularly rare in this era. Thomas Edison suffered hearing damage from it, and John D. Rockefeller also lost a grandson to the disease.
But the babysitter had recently had scarlet fever, and for it to spread immediately to the child and kill him… that was far from common.
"Because of this damned profession, I wasn't there when my son needed me the most."
"Ike…"
"Why? Why does the army keep taking things from me? It took my knees, and now it's taken even my final moments with Dowd. Yujin… what am I supposed to do now?"
If Henry were to die suddenly, I'd be in far worse shape than this.
As a parent, I knew—no matter what I said, he wasn't in any state to truly hear it.
"I… I regret it. I shouldn't have gone to Europe."
"..."
"I know. I'm not blaming you. I wouldn't have seen my son much even if I'd stayed at the training camp. But at night, when I close my eyes, I feel like I'm going insane. I keep thinking—if I hadn't gone to Europe, maybe I could've made more memories with Dowd. It makes me want to blow my own head off."
Even with his voice completely hoarse, Ike kept talking.
"I want to leave the army."
"Ike."
"You said I had great potential. Do you still believe that? Even now? Even like this?"
"Of course I do."
If Eisenhower didn't have potential, then who in the U.S. Army did?
"You'll get through this."
"Get through it? Forget this pain?"
"No. You'll never forget it. The Ike I know isn't someone who can forget the pain of losing a child. But you are someone who will do everything in your power to make sure other parents in this country never have to feel the same pain."
Douglas MacArthur lost his brother when he was just a child.
John J. Pershing lost his wife and three daughters in a house fire overnight—and was then immediately deployed to the Mexican Expedition and World War I.
And now Ike had lost his son.
"So now you're going to sweet-talk me into staying in this cursed army again? What makes me so special?"
"When have I ever lied to you?"
"Plenty. Weren't you known as the biggest fraud at West Point?"
"That involved money, so let's set it aside. This Cassandra of West Point guarantees it—you're destined to be a general. Hell, I'm feeling generous—five-star material."
"You bastard… hearing that makes it harder to quit."
"The others couldn't make it, but I can drink enough for all of them."
No matter how much I talked—
No matter if I could topple presidents, toy with future powerhouses, run businesses, or flaunt my knowledge of the future across the Army, Navy, and Air—
In the face of death, words and actions meant nothing.
All I could do now was stay by Ike's side as he wept once more.
While others began 1921 with laughter, hope, and anticipation,
we simply raised our glasses in silence—
praying that little Dowd would be happy in heaven.
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