The Fall of a Giant (9)
Franklin Roosevelt, commonly abbreviated as FDR.
He was a very distant relative of Theodore Roosevelt—also known as Teddy—who had served as president before Wilson, and they even belonged to different political parties to begin with.
And above all, the man who would become the unprecedented four-term president in American history.
Coolidge told me not to cross the line, right?
Surely, meeting a politician or two as a citizen of the United States doesn't count as crossing the line. It's not like I know the future or anything~
"I expressed my interest a few years ago. I never imagined I'd get the chance to meet you only now."
"I've been moving around a lot, so it's been quite difficult to meet you. Haha. My apologies."
"My apologies? There's no need for that from someone who's contributing so greatly to the nation's prestige. May I call you Jin?"
"Ah? Yes, that's fine."
What is with this guy?
Before I even realized it, I had agreed, and Roosevelt leaned back comfortably in his wheelchair, placing a cigarette between his lips.
"I believe it's time we had a constructive conversation."
"Uh… I don't think I have much of anything constructive to discuss with a prominent member of the Democratic Party—"
"Jin. Let's keep it casual. The fact that the most calculating man in the U.S. military accepted my invitation already makes everything obvious, so why pretend otherwise?"
He pointed his cigarette at my chest once and spoke with almost shameless cheerfulness.
"As you know, the era of the Democratic Party is already shimmering on the horizon."
"Well, I'm the son-in-law of a presidential candidate, you know."
"Hahaha. What an amusing joke. That's precisely why this meeting was possible, isn't it? Those foolish Republicans. If they had pushed Curtis as their candidate, they could have made plenty of excuses even when the economic crisis hit.
But they threw away their own fortune. The day a recession comes will be the day they must take responsibility—and the day the Democrats rise. I'd say I've laid all my cards on the table, wouldn't you agree?"
So that's why not just anyone can win four terms.
This man, casually soaking in a warm bath, could already see the entire future flow of D.C. with perfect clarity.
"You're absolutely right."
"My injury didn't affect my eyes or ears. The fact that someone who had been avoiding me finally agreed to meet means that you can no longer enjoy pleasant communication with the Republicans through Congressman Curtis."
No, seriously, I wasn't avoiding you. This is unfair. He won't believe a word I say!
Fine. Think whatever you want. I give up.
"That's not true at all, but… let's say it is?"
"Looking at Congressman Curtis's platform, I found that he actually shares more common ground with me than with those rigid Republicans. He cannot leave the Republican Party, but Jin, how about starting your political career in the Democratic Party?"
"I have no interest in politics whatsoever."
"Well then, let's go with that."
Ah, how annoying. So annoying!! This man has absolutely no faith in people.
What have I even done to receive love calls from all directions like this? Why won't the heavens just leave a capable man like me alone?
"Let me say this again. I've been moving around and doing various things, but all of it is in preparation for a future war."
"…That's something I'd like to hear more about."
"Not just me—many people are already saying in unison that the Treaty of Versailles cannot prevent the next war. I also believe war is inevitable, and I don't want to see the young men of the United States thrown into the battlefield unprepared like in the last great war, sacrificing their lives in vain."
Roosevelt paused for a moment, then asked me:
"Then when do you think that war will occur?"
"If soon, in ten years. At most, within twenty."
"Hmm. The senior officials in the War Department seem to think differently."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. This is a topic I'm quite interested in as well.
Some people in Manhattan have already started betting that a recession will arrive soon. Looking back at history, they believe it's about time for a downturn."
Yeah, it's coming.
But it's not something that can be described with words like 'recession' or 'depression.' It's a bottomless hell.
"So I've asked around and gathered opinions. Many believe that when the economy declines, aggressive regimes will take power and seek war. Have you not considered that possibility?"
There are more people than one might think who start wars with the mindset of 'we'll pay it back after we win' during economic downturns.
Especially Britain and Japan, currently ranked first and second as the United States' hypothetical enemies—they're practically masters of that mindset.
But… if it's not just a recession but a Great Depression, then no one will even have the strength to wage war because they'll be too busy starving.
Still, if a mere lieutenant colonel starts talking about an unprecedented economic collapse, it won't sound convincing.
So there was really only one answer I could give.
"It's not something I can control if war breaks out right away. Those above a mere lieutenant colonel will handle it far better."
"In other words… when you become Chief of Staff of the Army."
What?! Mom, this guy really doesn't listen!
"Chief of Staff?"
"Well then, who else would do it?"
"There are many more capable individuals than me. MacArthur, Marshall, Eisenhower, Bradley, Van Fleet…"
"But not all of them agree with your views, do they? There's no need to see power so negatively. Power is simply the ability to realize one's will. If you truly care about the lives of your soldiers, shouldn't you rise to the highest position?"
Listening to him, it almost felt like if I didn't take control of the U.S. Army, I'd be someone who didn't really care about soldiers' lives.
How many people are there who can pull others in and push them away so skillfully at their own pace like this?
"So by then, it will be the era of the Democratic Party?"
"Of course."
"And you'll need me at that time?"
"No. It's not the Democratic Party that needs you—it's me. There are still plenty of people in the Democratic Party who get angry if someone's skin isn't white."
What a blunt statement.
"At this point, it's difficult for me to say anything definite."
"I understand. You'll need to consider various conditions and determine what choice would be optimal."
After that, we exchanged some light small talk before parting ways.
It felt like all the strength had been completely drained from my body.
***
Even after Yujin Kim left, Roosevelt remained there alone, quietly sipping his drink.
"Interesting."
He had already figured out what kind of person he was dealing with.
If his judgment was correct, then Lieutenant Colonel Kim's claim of having no interest in politics was genuine.
He simply did what he believed was necessary—nothing more, nothing less.
A rare type, but not unheard of. The kind of person who possesses an ironclad belief that their predictions and judgments are correct, and who tirelessly works to turn what they believe is the most appropriate course of action into reality.
Seen negatively, it was arrogance. I am right, and you are wrong—compress that into two words, and that's exactly what arrogance is.
But the problem was that this man was the very author of that so-called "Armageddon Report." Roosevelt himself wasn't particularly fond of arrogant people, but it felt rather uncomfortable to label someone as such after they had already made one utterly unbelievable prediction come true.
He had no desire to become a Trojan who ignored Cassandra and met ruin because of it.
"I'll find out by watching."
In the end, he reserved judgment.
What meaning was there in drawing grand plans all day when the man in question spent most of his time soaking in hot springs?
He was starting to miss Washington, D.C.
He wanted to sit in that ultimate casino, wager his entire life, and win the United States itself.
At that very moment, Roosevelt realized he had made a critical mistake.
"Ah."
I should've asked him for a legendary card.
To think he had forgotten that while being so absorbed in political maneuvering.
A truly bitter mistake.
***
June 1928.
The Republican National Convention was held to select the party's presidential candidate for the following year.
"Damn it."
Curtis muttered under his breath.
He had done everything he possibly could.
All the political capital he had accumulated over the years—every tangible and intangible debt—had been converted into support for this primary.
As one of the power players during Harding's four-year presidency, he had already been distributing "favors" far and wide back then. There were those in Washington, D.C. who responded to his earnest appeals, and there were also political opportunists who simply bet on him because they disliked Hoover.
Yet despite all that, the massive anti-Hoover coalition Curtis had assembled collapsed in vain—like a coalition army disbanding mid-campaign.
The more strength Curtis gathered, the more financial elites and industrial capitalists crazily stuffed dollars into Hoover's back pocket.
The media broadcast it vividly over the radio as a clash between Curtis—the Soviet puppet trying to swallow the Republican Party—and Hoover, the anti-communist crusader fighting him off. Newspaper editorials were filled daily with contributions from this or that economics professor, all indirectly criticizing him: "Defeatist thinking worsens the economy. Faith in the United States is the path to prosperity."
Damn Henry Ford.
Of all people, he couldn't understand why that man was acting like this. Calling him a communist and all that nonsense—wasn't Henry Ford himself trying to build an automobile factory in the Soviet Union? If Curtis was a communist, then what was Ford? A spy?
It was infuriating. If the agricultural revitalization bill passed, farmers would at least be able to repay the installment payments on the tractors Ford had been happily selling them. No—Ford didn't even use installment systems, so he had nothing to lose. Just reckless confidence that only his competitors would suffer.
And finally, the results were announced.
"Thus! With 719 votes, Herbert Hoover is hereby declared the Republican presidential nominee for 1928!!!"
"Hoover! Hoover! Hoover!!"
"Thank you, thank you."
Hoover grinned ear to ear, fully basking in the glory of victory, then glanced at Curtis.
That damn bastard.
Curtis had relentlessly gone around insisting that Hoover would ruin the nation's economy, to the point of giving Hoover a complex. The nation's top economic official ruining the economy? It sounded like nothing more than low, absurd black propaganda.
Still, Hoover was a leader who listened to his advisors.
"We must bring in Congressman Curtis."
"We've inflicted too many wounds on each other. It was unavoidable for winning the primary, but we've alienated rural communities and minorities. Appoint Curtis as vice president."
"The vice presidency is just ceremonial anyway. Once we're in the White House, we can leave him idle."
Right. Just give him the title. Nothing more.
Hoover suddenly shouted toward the delegates in the hall.
"Now the Republican Party must unite! The party has chosen to follow the bright future I will lead, but I also recognize that our careful and ever-thoughtful Congressman Curtis has earned the support of many party members!!"
"Hoover! Hoover!"
"So I make this request publicly! Congressman Curtis, please become my running mate! Let us leave the past behind and show the world that we are united for the next four years!"
"Curtis! Curtis! Curtis!"
A thunderous chant.
This overwhelming atmosphere was pressing down on Curtis.
If he refused—and then lost the general election—he would be branded a traitor. He'd go down in Republican history as a legendary troll. His political career would be finished.
Curtis calmly glanced around the hall, then raised his hand to quiet the crowd and spoke evenly.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Hoover. I'm truly at a loss for words at such a generous offer."
With the brightest smile he had shown all day, he answered Hoover's proposal:
"Go fuck yourself."
Now it was perfectly clear why his son-in-law couldn't stop acting like a lunatic.
When something's this fun, how could anyone possibly resist?
READ MORE CHAPTERS HERE : https://beastnovels.com/