How to Fight the Darkness (2)
Imperial Japan, Keijō (Seoul).
The Mitsubishi–Ford Tractor Company's Keijō factory was bustling with intense activity today as well.
"Where are all these tractors even being sold?"
"Obviously to China. Do you know how many people live there?"
"Hey, you, Kim!"
"Y-yes, yes sir! You called?"
"Ssibal. Who told you to work like this? Your mother?"
If you come to a foreign country, the first thing you learn is always the curses. Listening to those Yankee bastards rolling their tongues as they swore—it really made one feel the passage of time.
There's a reason why "standards of civilization" exist. No matter how hard they try, there's always a limit to what these Joseon people can do. So if you've got time to teach them, it's better to—
"Hey, Ishimura-san."
"Y-yes!!"
"You're the same. At this rate, it's just a steel coffin. Understand?"
Normally, in factories in Joseon, Japanese technicians with specialized knowledge would supervise Korean laborers. But here, things were different—those red-faced, blue-eyed foreigners were the masters, and both Japanese and Koreans were equally just subordinates.
The only difference was that if those foreigners saw even a hint of potential, they would teach skills regardless of whether one was Japanese or Korean.
The tanks they produced passed the strict testing of the Imperial Japanese Army and were steadily supplied to both the Japanese Army and the newly established Manchukuo Army. Meanwhile, most civilian tractors crossed the Yellow Sea and were sold to China.
Of course, even within the Japanese military, this company's unusual business practices caused quite a stir.
"Have you all lost your minds? Tanks produced in the Empire are being bought by the Chinese!"
"I don't understand what you mean. What they are purchasing are agricultural tractors."
"And if they modify them and mount a turret, they become tanks! You're letting a potential enemy of the Imperial Army possess tanks!"
"But due to the economic depression, we haven't been able to purchase the agreed tank quantities in advance. The company says, 'If you block even our last resort to survive while failing to honor contracts, we'll shut down the business—'"
"Grr…!"
Those who failed to keep their promises had no choice but to stay silent.
And when those tractors arrived at Shanghai—
"If you strip this part and that part, then mount a turret, you get a tank. See? Making tanks is easy, right?"
"Doesn't that mean we're effectively buying goods from the Japanese?"
Chiang Kai-shek let out a sigh as he looked at the pitiful state of what would become the Republic of China Army's armored forces. But Syngman Rhee remained completely at ease.
"Of course, you can produce them domestically if you wish. But… between Japanese-made and Chinese-made, which chassis would you prefer to put your soldiers in?"
"…Hmph."
"To be honest, people like Yan Xishan are trying to build tank factories in their own territories and produce everything domestically, including the chassis. We're also providing a bit of 'advice' there."
But could something as advanced as a tank really be produced just because someone at the top decided to do it?
In truth, even Syngman Rhee had long since given up trying to fully understand the situation, so Chiang Kai-shek's reaction was only natural.
'Tractors made in a factory built by Japan in Joseon using American capital and technology, modified in Shanghai, then delivered to China as tanks… What on earth is this mess?
Still, money from those Chinese is flowing into our pockets, so we'll go along with it… but is this really okay?'
Even more puzzling was the Japanese military itself. How could they tolerate this?
Even Rhee—who prided himself on being worldly and experienced in American ways—found capitalism far too complex and bizarre to fully grasp.
Having barely persuaded Chiang Kai-shek to continue this massive business, President Rhee of the Provisional Government of Korea frowned as soon as he returned to his office.
"An election? And how exactly do you propose we do that?"
As someone born of royal blood, a president, and a diplomat—currently going around personally negotiating with lowly warlords—talk of an election was absurd.
"Let's at least hear it out. Should I go to Joseon and campaign? Or beg the Japanese to set up polling stations? Or… are you suggesting constitutional reform to a parliamentary system right now?"
"Listen, Rhee. Even for a provisional government, it makes no sense that the president has no fixed term!"
"We'll hold elections once we regain the country!"
These fools. At a time when unity was essential, they were making a fuss just to become leaders.
He knew that people like Kim Gu held only the nation and its people in their hearts, with no desire for power. But as the saying goes, pigs see only pigs—these pathetic men believed that Rhee, like them, was obsessed with power and had clung to the presidency for over a decade.
Still, to become a true leader of the nation, one had to embrace even such incompetents.
"So, let's say we hold an election. And if the president changes?"
"If he changes, you say—"
"You all know that my beloved student Kim Yujin has been supporting us extensively, both materially and otherwise. Do you really think he'll keep helping if I'm pushed aside into retirement?"
"But this is for national independence—"
"Oh, stop it. Weren't you the ones saying I should become commander of the Independence Army in Shanghai, or questioning my loyalty because I hold U.S. citizenship?"
Seeing the officials of the Provisional Government fall silent, Rhee felt a bit relieved.
Most of those who had stirred up trouble back then were either on the run now or lying at the bottom of the Yangtze River. Meanwhile, Rhee had firmly secured his position by branding himself as the indispensable partner of "war hero Kim Yujin."
"Dosan and Wooseong were both deeply disappointed back then. Hah… It's like saving a drowning man only to be asked to hand over your belongings. An election? Fine, let's have one. I'll withdraw and return to America."
"Now, now, why say such things!"
Of course, if Kim Yujin was as Rhee knew him—ruthless enough to do anything to maintain influence—then as long as Rhee himself remained in control of the Provisional Government, there was nothing to worry about.
"Then let me ask this time. Why on earth haven't you disposed of the brewery yet?"
"Why should we sell off something that's making perfectly good money just because General Kim Yujin said so?"
"You—honestly, you frustrating people! I'll wash my hands of it, so do whatever you want!"
In about two or three years, everyone involved in the brewery business would probably fall from power anyway.
Even without eating, I felt completely full.
***
February 1933.
Having finally finished the work that plagued my so-called "vacation," I returned to France.
My planned trips to Italy, Greece, Spain, and Portugal all went down the drain. It was so frustrating I felt like I was going insane. I'm going crazyI'm going crazyI'm going crazyI feel like I'll go out for lunch and eat!
…Actually, to be honest, I'm not really going crazy.
After meeting Hitler and Stalin, mentally speaking… I think I've developed something like dictator trauma. If people like Mussolini, Salazar, or Franco start spouting more nonsense at me, life's going to get seriously exhausting. And if that happens, the State Department will probably launch something like "Let's Be Friends Season 2" again.
So I'm skipping all of it. Not going. Now that all official events are over, I'll focus purely on sightseeing.
—or so I thought, but before I knew it, I was once again caught in a string of meetings and receptions.
"It's been a while, General Kin."
"Isn't that Consul General OOota? What brings you to France?"
"Haha. I was serving as ambassador to Portugal, but now I've been reassigned as ambassador to the Soviet Union. Since I heard you were here, of course I had to pay my respects on the way."
No, why are you coming to see me then?
There's no way he came just to show his face. He definitely has business.
We spent hours exchanging drinks and talking about our lives so far.
Eventually, perhaps tired of talking, he got to the point.
"Thanks to the many favors you've extended, a great number of the Empire's young men have made their way to America."
"I didn't do it for free, so you don't have to worry about that."
"And it's not just that. You've helped us in many ways. I may not represent the Empire officially, but I sincerely feel gratitude toward you."
"Haha. Thank you."
"And so…"
OOota tried to set down his glass lightly, but perhaps his arm wouldn't cooperate—the clink echoed loudly.
"How long do you think this relationship can last?"
"...I would prefer it to last indefinitely."
"Then you mean… that because of problems within the Empire, it will eventually collapse."
You know it well.
With the Manchurian Incident and the Shanghai Incident, Japan's runaway course had already been set.
There's no way they'll suddenly calm down now. After tasting the fiery spice of the Great Depression, their stomachs are all churned up—they'll want to grab anything they can.
When I didn't answer, he grew more anxious and raised his voice.
"When we first struck a deal, you said this: the more hostile two parties are, the more they can cooperate."
"I did."
"If relations between Japan and the United States collapse, what a tragedy that would be. Would you not act as a bridge between the two nations?"
That's impossible.
You've already drawn massive aggro with the invasion of Manchuria. And what about Shanghai?
Sure, for now the world's press is running headlines like "Nippon Sugoi!", "Japan is maintaining order in East Asia," and "China caused the chaos anyway," maintaining a pro-Japanese stance—but that's only because, in the middle of the Great Depression, publishing "Japan has gone crazy" could trigger an actual war crisis.
Once the world recovers, Japan will have to pay the price.
But as history clearly shows, instead of paying that price, Japan chose the worst possible route—joining hands with a certain mustached man and heading down the path of world conquest.
And the result of that… was, of course, Fat Man in the name of Saint Truman and Saint LeMay.
And you think I'd willingly act as a bridge between the two countries?
"Let me ask you one thing."
"Yes!"
"Can Japan give up all its ambitions toward China and be content with Korea and Manchuria?"
At my blunt question, he chose silence.
"That would be difficult, wouldn't it?"
"...I'm not sure what exactly is implied by 'all ambitions.' Giving up even economic interests would be… difficult."
"Let's just talk about military aggression. Can you guarantee that Japan won't march into China again?"
Instead of confidently bluffing, he once again chose silence. Good. At least this man is somewhat trustworthy.
If the Japanese Army actually listened to reason, would it even be the Japanese Army? Even the Manchurian Incident was essentially them charging in like mad dogs on their own whim.
"I don't know…"
"The moment Japan shows even the slightest ambition toward China again, the American people will never overlook it. Consider this a warning."
And when that day comes, to avoid being branded pro-Japanese, I'll frame myself as the fiercest anti-Japanese activist. No way am I ending up dragged into an internment camp with my family for defending them.
"That is… difficult. No one says it outright, but I believe every citizen of the Empire carries in their heart the idea that its future lies in China."
"Then conflict is inevitable."
At my conclusion, a shadow fell over OOota's face.
Go ahead and think it through. Honestly, what have I done wrong here? This is the path Japan chose for itself.
Of course, I'll make some money off it until the very end.
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