To Europe (1)
I don't know.I can't even begin to guess what the hell is going on.
Dragged to Washington, D.C. like a piece of luggage, I suddenly found myself wedged among lunatics obsessed with blood, madness, and the skies—scribbling some incomprehensible report.
Sure, I beat the hell out of McNary and Stratemeyer, but aside from that, the state of the U.S. Air Force… no, the Aviation Section of the Signal Corps was an absolute disaster.
"What is this, a military or what?"
To be honest, I don't know a damn thing about aviation or the air force.Well, I do have a tiny bit of knowledge—but with such fragmented, vague knowledge of the future, there was no way I could come up with anything immediately useful for a war.
Ha! Damn fools. You've all been fooled! I actually don't know anything!
And so, my collusion with the aviation boys was formed astonishingly fast.
"Why don't we just write whatever we're doing under your name?""Ah, that sounds great, haha. But in return, you'll make sure I get sent to Europe, right?""Of course! If it comes to it, I'll personally fly this thing and drop you straight into London.""Uh… maybe not that…"
What was a mere lieutenant supposed to do—stand here stiff-backed and proclaim like some prophet, "No! This is not the path the future U.S. Air Force should take!"?
Future knowledge only goes so far. In the first place, these people weren't actually looking for prophecy. Idiots like McNary and Stratemeyer.
Anyway, the biggest thing I could gain here was a connection with Henry Arnold right in front of me. Everything else was just extra.
As I enjoyed what was essentially a honey-dripping vacation, a summons from the War Department arrived.
At the time, I had no idea that the world had begun calling for me.
War Department.
The atmosphere of the meeting, presided over by Secretary Baker, was utterly solemn.
And the neatly placed document before every attendee was the golden apple that had caused this meeting.
"Let's begin the briefing.""Yes, sir. Recently, Major General Pershing of the American Expeditionary Forces urgently requested the transmission of this report."
The Chief of Staff tapped the document in front of him—the so-called Armageddon Report.
"After receiving it, Field Marshal Douglas Haig, Commander-in-Chief of the British Expeditionary Forces, requested several times that the author of this report be incorporated into the British Army."
"Those bastards are insane.""Who the hell are they to talk about taking one of our officers? Do we look like we're still a colony to them?"
The room heated up instantly.
Could the relationship between Britain and the United States be called good? Not really. It was ambiguous—close, but not something either side particularly wanted to deepen. And yet, somehow, they had become bound by fate. That was the current Anglo-American relationship.
"They're the kind of bastards who just demand manpower and supplies from us. Their arrogance is practically Big Ben itself.""General Pershing must have been disgusted too.""Ahem. Anyway, when we refused their request, a similar one came again—this time under the name of the current British Prime Minister, Lloyd George. They ask that we send him over under the guarantee of his personal safety."
Only then did the atmosphere settle slightly. Maybe this is acceptable?—that thought spread among the gathered stars.
"Any other conditions?""General Pershing sent an additional message. He added that the British likely intend to station Lieutenant Kim in London and use him as… propaganda."
"Propaganda?""Yes. As in, 'the great shaman who predicted this war has once again foretold the victory of the British Empire.'"
"These sons of bitches—what do they think a U.S. officer is?!"
At last, someone exploded, and the volcano erupted.
Ironically, the U.S. Army that Kim Yujin had always hoped for—one that transcended racial barriers—was being forged right here. Being collectively disrespected by the British was stripping away the racism filter from lifelong soldiers.
"So? What is your plan, Mr. Secretary?""Well, if Britain believes this would aid the war effort—""This is a matter of honor! Honor!"
The men slammed the table, their dignity nowhere to be seen—but in that moment, they seemed to shine with a brilliant aura.
Their patience had already reached its limit. The mere fact that a Major General like Pershing had to meet a Field Marshal like Haig had already twisted their guts in anger.
Why should we go help them and suffer this humiliation?
"Mr. Secretary, are you thinking something like, 'this much we can concede'?""Well, at least the U.S. Army's talent would be kept safe—""Of course he'd be safe! But is this really 'safe'? Can you guarantee that a U.S. officer being horribly insulted by the British is less dangerous than bullets?!"
"Absolutely not. We cannot hand over even a single soldier to those British bastards!""No officer in the Army would tolerate such humiliation! I'd rather put a bullet in my own head!!"
At this point, Secretary Baker was starting to wonder whether they had declared war on Germany or Britain.
Still, even he couldn't deny the resentment. Regardless of his civilian status, this could easily be seen as an insult to the United States.
After enduring the frenzy of the Army's brightest, Baker finally spoke once the room had calmed somewhat.
"Do not worry. I understand your opinions well. We will accept Britain's request—but in a different way."
"What do you mean? A different way?"
The only civilian in the room continued.
"Let me quote their final request precisely: 'We guarantee his personal safety in the name of the British Empire, and respectfully request that "that lieutenant" be placed aboard the next transport ship and sent to us.'"
"That's correct.""Then let's do exactly that. We'll send Lieutenant Kim. A request made in the name of a nation's prime minister cannot simply be refused."
"Mr. Secretary! Are you saying—""But nowhere in that message does it say to send him to London, does it?"
Baker declared proudly.
"The British have tested the patience of the United States several times. Though they claim to need our help, they constantly try to belittle us and do not hesitate to insult us. Therefore, this time, we will firmly impress upon them that the United States does not stand beneath them."
"Excellent!"
"Thus, we will assign Lieutenant Yujin Kim to the American Expeditionary Forces and send him to France. After all, that still helps their war effort, doesn't it?"
"They'll have no grounds to protest.""Serves those bastards right."
This was the United States of America.
A country where people hear "Do it!" and respond before their brains can process it—"Why would I? Screw that." A nation built by rebels.
If you made a request like that to a country full of people who'd scream "No!" the moment you asked them to hand over their National Guard, you couldn't expect it to go smoothly.
"Let's at least make it look proper—promote his rank a bit. We need to reply to London immediately, and sending 'Lieutenant' Kim sounds too shabby.""Agreed. If we're seen as unable to recognize talent, it would damage the Army's honor.""How about Major? Is that enough?""It should at least be a field-grade officer. I agree.""Then what position should we assign him? Armor? Or aviation?""Aviation? Don't be ridiculous.""Putting a valuable officer into one of those flying contraptions? Absolutely not.""Let's just leave it to General Pershing. Frankly, this wasn't even a planned assignment. He's already acquainted with Pershing—just toss him over and let him figure it out."
If Yujin had heard this, he would have exploded—Don't decide my assignment so carelessly!—but he wasn't of a rank to be part of this meeting.
And so, amid this fiery atmosphere, Yujin Kim's temporary promotion to Major and his deployment to France were decided.
"Please go in.""Excuse me? Isn't there some mistake?""You are Lieutenant Yujin Kim, correct?""That's right."
When I heard it was a summons from the War Department, I wondered what it could be.
Logically speaking, I had only been assigned here a few months ago—there was no way it could already be a new personnel order. Even if it were, they'd just send paperwork. There was no reason to call me all the way to the War Department for something like that. Promotions were the same.
But something about this felt off.
Why did "come to the War Department" turn into "report to the Secretary of War's office"? There was no way it was normal for a lowly lieutenant like me to be entering the Secretary's office.
"Lieutenant Yujin Kim, you may enter—"
Yes, sir.
That man over there… unless my eyes were failing me—
"You are Lieutenant Yujin Kim?""Yes, sir.""Good to meet you. I am Newton Baker, Secretary of War."
I had a bad feeling, but it really was him. Not his secretary, not an aide—the Secretary himself was waiting for me.
"Sit down quickly. I'm quite busy these days."
I was guided to a seat and sat down at once.
<: A Proposal for Predicting the Nature of Future Warfare and Preparing Accordingly >
Why is that here?
That document—the one I had thrown together years ago out of sheer bravado, pride, and the fear that if things stayed like this, I'd end up as just another buried "yellow monkey"—was sitting right on the Secretary's table.
How many times was I going to suffer because of this cursed paper?
After the spine-chillingly formal introductions with someone so high above me ended, Secretary Baker briefly explained the situation between the United States and Britain across the Atlantic.
So, to summarize…
Somehow, the British found out about the book you wrote. Because of that, General Pershing requested your "report." And now, you're going to Europe! You'll join the American Expeditionary Forces and work your ass off! This way, we technically fulfilled the British request. We sent you to France, but hey—you were dispatched. No lies there.
The more I listened, the more pissed off I became.
Wasn't this basically Captain America going around selling war bonds?No—he was from World War II, so that makes me his senior.
Shaman America, Yujin Kim, deploying! Wow, just thinking about it made my head spin.
What pissed me off even more was that it wasn't even for domestic use—I might have to go do that nonsense in another country. Honestly, does that even count as participating in the war? That's just clowning around.
And what kind of people are the British? Top-tier snobs who see everyone else as second-class.
The kind of people who produce things like the Fu Manchu series—Chinese villains running wild—and call it a masterpiece. If it were "Shaman America," that'd be one thing, but they might actually make me dress up like some ridiculous Chinese caricature.
If that really happened, I'd ditch the Chinese outfit, dress as the Joker, and start shooting.
Yeah… the British still had a long way to go. Turns out, the lack of understanding of other cultures wasn't an American trait—it was just an Anglo-Saxon thing.
But the incredibly wise and brilliant leadership of the U.S. Army had provided a perfect solution.
The fact that I wouldn't have to play "Shaman America" in Britain was already a relief—but being deployed? Even better.
Once I joined the AEF, opportunities would come somehow. Whether as staff or anything else, getting there was what mattered. After that, I'd cling desperately to General Pershing and secure a decent position.
And so, I received my first oak leaves.
A shining Major's insignia.Personally granted by the Secretary.
It was only a temporary rank—I'd have to return it after the war—but at the moment of promotion, I couldn't control my expression at all.
Once my deployment was decided, I became busy.
The Aviation Section, now about to lose its convenient report-writing machine overnight, was left like a group of dazed scarecrows.
After offering some appropriate consolation to poor Captain Arnold, the next thing to do was, of course, pay my respects to the esteemed old men—
[So you're really going, huh.][If you come back as a corpse and haunt my daughter, I'll kill you for real.]
How do you kill someone who's already dead? Planning to desecrate my corpse or something?
After seeing Dorothy and Henry one last time, I wired money to San Francisco and retrieved the "cargo" I had prepared.
Then I arrived at Hoboken, New Jersey.
There was a port owned by a company called Norddeutscher Lloyd.As the name suggested, it was a German company—and because of that, it had been requisitioned by the federal government at the outbreak of the war and was now being used for transatlantic transport missions.
Countless tanks packed tightly onto a massive transport ship.They were the United States' fiery gift, heading out alongside me.
And the transport officers were clearly troubled when they saw my separate personal cargo.
"This is too heavy.""You're saying all of this is personal cargo?"
"Well, it's called personal cargo, but it's all military equipment. Military. Just let it slide.""May we inspect the contents?""It's guns. Guns.""This looks nothing like—""Come on. If you want to know whether it's a gun, take a hit from it. Just load it up already! This absolutely has to go to Europe!"
After all sorts of trouble, I finally managed to get one large, ornate crate loaded onto the transport ship.
With that beautiful oil sprayer, I was planning to deliver a second shock to Europe.
Author's Note
Pershing1886 – commissioned, Second Lieutenant1892 – First Lieutenant1898 – temporary Major1901 – reverted to Captain1906 – Brigadier General1916 – Major General
Patton1909 – commissioned, Second Lieutenant1916 – First Lieutenant1917 – Captain1918 – Major → temporary Lieutenant Colonel → temporary Colonel1920 – reverted to Major
All the military common sense you know absolutely does not apply to the United States Army.
That's just how the U.S. Army is.
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