I Will Stage A Coup D’état - Chapter 24: Revolution’s (?) Dawn (2)

Field Marshal Park Han-jin sat in the interrogation room wearing nothing over his military uniform.

A young military police officer from the Army Criminal Investigation Command sat down in front of him and thrust out a statement, his eyes cold and merciless.

The officer’s face remained nonchalant as he committed an act that would be rude even for a colonel-level head of the Criminal Investigation Command, disregarding all protocol and respect.

“Sign this statement, and we’ll make this easy for you.”

“What kind of nonsense is this? Get rid of it right now!”

“This bastard isn’t going to cooperate. Hey!”

As the military police officer shouted, the interrogators entered, their heavy boots echoing ominously in the small room.

“This bastard won’t listen to words. Beat him up.”

The interrogators started kicking the Field Marshal with their combat boots without hesitation, the sound of leather against flesh filling the air.

Park Han-jin was hit by the boots and couldn’t even breathe, his body jerking with each brutal impact.

While being beaten severely, he heard the military police officer’s voice, cutting through the haze of pain.

“Have you changed your mind now?”

Park Han-jin spoke through his swollen lips, blood trickling down his chin.

“You bastards. I am a Field Marshal of the Korean Empire’s Army. I may have suffered humiliation from you lot, but do you think I’d forsake my honor?”

The military police officer chuckled.

“Do you still think you’re the Army Minister and Field Marshal? We’ve already stripped your rank, so don’t worry about such honor and worry about your body instead. He still refuses to cooperate, keep beating him up until he sees reason.”

Park Han-jin was again mercilessly beaten, his flesh bruising and bones creaking under the assault.

He vowed to make them pay dearly if he could just escape this place, but the repeated violence broke even the Field Marshal’s iron will.

Unfortunately for Park Han-jin, humans were not made of iron.

They were sad creatures that grew weaker, not stronger, with each blow, their resolve crumbling like sand.

While Field Marshal Park Han-jin was undergoing this brutal “interrogation,” the Army Ministry generals were also being questioned.

General Park Seong-ryeol, the Chief of Staff of the Army Ministry, didn’t resist as stubbornly as Park Han-jin, his survival instinct overriding his pride.

“I’ll submit my retirement papers as you say. Will that do?”

“How nice of you to cooperate like this. Stamp there, and return to your residence.”

The coup forces carefully classified those who must be punished and those who could be released after just damaging their reputation, their methods were clinical and efficient.

The criterion was faction, a ruthless sorting of loyalties and allegiances.

Those belonging to Park Han-jin’s faction – the Army Chief of Staff, Capital Defense Commander, Defense Security Commander, Guard Division Commander, Provost Marshal, Third Army Commander, etc. – were stripped of their ranks on the spot and transferred to the Army prison, their careers and lives in tatters.

Others in high positions who were decided to be released within reason – such as the Deputy Chief of Staff, Chief of Staff, and Director of Operations – were sent home after receiving their retirement papers, a bitter pill to swallow but far better than the alternative.

Of course, some remained in their positions.

These were the generals who switched to Lee Sung Joon’s side at the last moment, their opportunism rewarded with survival.

These individuals had the merit of secretly leaking information, so they couldn’t be purged outright.

Such people were sent to insignificant positions within the military.

They were placed in positions easy to remove later, like Army Policy Researcher where Sung Joon had sat, or border guard units stationed in Manchuria, Japanese Army Korean troops stationed in Japan, Army Comprehensive School Commandant, etc.

As this first round of purges ended, the coup forces implemented rewards for merit.

There were large-scale promotions in the core coup forces – the Traning Division and 16th, and 17th Reserve Divisions, their ranks swelling with newfound power.

Colonel Kim Sung-joo, personnel staff of the Traning Division, was promoted one rank to Major General and appointed as Defense Security Commander.

It was originally a position for a full general, but that didn’t matter in this new order.

The DSC, the core of regime protection, had to be controlled by coup forces.

Appearances were irrelevant in the face of raw power.

Colonel Baek Dong-seok, operations staff of the Correction Unit, was also promoted to Major General and appointed Capital Defense Commander.

The Capital Defense Command was the core of capital defense, its strategic importance paramount.

It was unthinkable to leave such a unit in others’ hands.

Colonel Gil Tae-hwan, chief of staff of the 16th Reserve Division, was promoted to Major General and appointed as commander of the 1st Guard Division, a Lieutenant General’s position.

This position also needed to be seized to control the core combat unit in Pyongyang, the heart of military power.

Colonel Lee Jeong-yun, operations staff of the 17th Reserve Division, was promoted to Major General and appointed as Correction Unit commander, a Lieutenant General’s position.

Additionally, colonel-level officers in the Ilwonhwa were promoted to Major General and appointed as commanders of core combat units crucial for regime protection, like the 16th and 17th Reserve Divisions, 12th and 33rd Infantry Divisions.

And most importantly, Sung Joon, leader of the coup forces, promoted himself to General and rose to Army Chief of Staff.

It was an unreasonable promotion and appointment, but that didn’t matter in the new reality they had created.

The coup forces knew that wielding power so forcefully made others fear them, fear being the currency of their newfound authority.

After the rewards, the coup leadership decided to place people they could persuade in the remaining vacant positions, filling the power vacuum with malleable puppets.

Thus,

They brought in retired General Roh Seong-guk, who had competed with Park Han-jin before retiring and made him a figurehead Army Minister.

They also called in other retired generals to fill positions like Director of Army Operations and Deputy Chief of Staff, their experience valuable but their allegiance assured by the precariousness of their positions.

Of course, these filled positions were meaningless, mere puppets dancing on strings.

In a situation where Sung Joon, holding both military command and administration authority, could move core units with a single word, they were merely filling seats, their power as illusory as a mirage.

Generals in remote areas watching this situation felt perplexed.

“A wet-behind-the-ears youngster dares to seize power?”

“We can’t just leave that bastard be.”

“But how?”

The generals felt displeasure at Sung Joon’s seizure of power, but couldn’t bring themselves to take forceful action, their courage withering in the face of his audacity.

It was a losing battle to attempt a “subjugation” against Sung Joon, who had the field units around the capital area in the palm of his hand.

Even if they tried, the justification was ambiguous, their moral high ground crumbling beneath their feet.

Hadn’t the Prime Minister and Emperor already endorsed the coup, lending it a veneer of legitimacy?

The generals forcibly suppressed their dissatisfaction, swallowing their pride like a bitter pill.

If an inexperienced youngster had seized power, there would eventually be a weakness, they reasoned, clinging to hope like a lifeline.

Even the seasoned Park Han-jin had shown vulnerability, so why wouldn’t Lee Sung Joon?

The generals decided to send gestures of submission to Lee Sung Joon for now, their pride bowing to pragmatism.

Having shown such submission, they thought Lee Sung Joon would stop at a reasonable point while saving face, their expectations colored by their own sense of honor.

That’s what the generals thought, their assumptions were based on a world that no longer existed.

But they misjudged one crucial fact, their error as fatal as it was naive.

Sung Joon, whom they underestimated as a mere youngster, was not someone soft enough with power to leave potential threats unchecked, his ruthlessness far exceeding their imagination.

*

“Chief of Staff, the German ambassador has requested an audience.”

“I see, let him in.”

I told Major Kim Jong-Gil, whom I’d promoted to my chief of staff originally, to accept the request, my voice cool and collected.

I don’t particularly like the crazy Nazis, but Hitler was our only ally in the current situation, a necessary evil in this game of global politics.

Even if that weren’t the case, we couldn’t completely ignore the Germans if we wanted to entrust Berlin with mediating the Korean-Chinese war, their influence too valuable to discard.

By the way, these guys are quicker than expected, their efficiency is both impressive and unnerving.

The coup forces’ personnel changes hadn’t even been announced, yet they accurately knew I was the leader and came to see me, their intelligence network clearly formidable.

As I sat in my office pretending to write something, German Ambassador Herbert von Dirksen appeared.

But his appearance was quite peculiar, a caricature of Nazi stereotypes come to life.

With a bald head without a single hair, wearing glasses, and exuding that characteristically gloomy Nazi aura, he looked more like a loan shark coming to collect a debt than an ambassador.

Trying hard to ignore Dirksen’s intense first impression, I greeted the ambassador with a friendly attitude, masking my true thoughts.

“I’m Lee Sung Joon, the new Army Chief of Staff. You wanted to see me, Ambassador?”

“Yes. Aren’t you the most powerful figure in this country now, General? So we can’t proceed without you. Are you aware that peace negotiations between Korea and China are progressing through our mediation in Berlin?”

Ah, Park Han-jin asked for peace negotiations? That revelation caught me off guard.

That was unexpected.

To think that meathead, who seemed incapable of negotiation, had such an idea. Perhaps I had underestimated him.

Park Han-jin’s score in my mind improved slightly, though not by much.

It seemed enough to raise him from an F to a D grade, a marginal improvement at best.

“I wasn’t aware.”

“In that case, allow me to explain the circumstances.”

Dirksen earnestly explained, squeezing out his non-existent eloquence, his words a mix of diplomacy and veiled threats.

I listened silently.

Come to think of it, I didn’t intend to completely reject everything my predecessor Park Han-jin had done.

However, a few things seemed to need adjustment, the terms were too lenient for my liking.

So I added a condition.

“Let’s modify the terms. Simply making North China a demilitarized zone won’t guarantee Korea’s security.”

“What do you mean, Your Excellency?”

“We need to have control over the North China Railway. We’ll concede on other interests or demands if necessary.”

I decided to follow the precedent of the ‘South Manchuria Railway Company’¹used by the Japanese Empire when managing Manchuria, a bold move that would cement our influence.

It was a difficult condition for China to accept, but I had no choice. The stakes were too high for half-measures.

The war had already broken out, and blood had been spilled, staining the earth with the price of our ambition.

If I were to unilaterally throw in the towel here and cry out for reconciliation, what would become of me?

The people of the Empire would rage, saying ‘That traitor, he ruined all the hard-earned gains for the war!’.

No, I had to push forward, to secure a victory that would justify the cost.

I must stress, that this militaristic Korea is not a normal country, its soul forged in the fires of conflict and ambition.

The national consciousness is even more bellicose than that of the Japanese Empire, a powder keg of aggression and pride.

To convince the people, I needed to bring back a plausible trophy, a tangible symbol of our might.

Only then could I maintain my position, my grip on power secured by the spoils of war.

That’s the political reason, and there’s an economic one too, equally pressing and dire.

We need money for domestic reforms, but military reduction is absolutely out of the question, our strength is our only shield.

Yet we’re already a crippled nation running on a wartime economy, so we can’t squeeze the country any further, our resources stretched to breaking point.

Under these conditions, there’s only one way to raise funds, a path as old as empires themselves.

Stick a straw into an easy neighbor and suck them dry.

In fact, the Korean Empire already has a big straw stuck into neighboring Japan, sucking the lifeblood from our former oppressor.

It’s not a colony, but we’ve made it into a near-“protectorate” and are sucking out its economic power as much as possible.

But even sucking like that isn’t enough to save Korea.

So the chinks must be sucked dry too!

“General, that railway…”

“I know. Chiang Kai-shek² won’t accept it easily.”

Well, then we’ll just have to continue the war a bit longer.

When I spoke, I made a fuss as if the great powers were about to intervene, but in reality, that wasn’t going to happen, my bluff as hollow as it was bold.

‘Unless we occupy something like Hainan Island³ and indirectly threaten their colonies, but we’re not at that stage yet.’

Looking back, everything I said was just brazen lies.

“General, please reconsider. We need to give Chairman Chiang acceptable terms.”

“Let’s think about it over time.”

I decided to postpone negotiations until China accepted the new conditions, buying time to consolidate my power.

Anyway, with both the government and military in disarray, we weren’t in a position to properly negotiate with China.

We can talk once the ‘revolution’ settles down a bit.

I should use this opportunity to understand what Park Han-jin has been up to.

It would be troublesome if something else I didn’t know about suddenly came up.

Less than 5 minutes after Dirksen left, Jong-Gil said, his voice tight with tension,

“Chief, the American, British, and French ambassadors have arrived.”

Well, well. The great powers’ intelligence shouldn’t be underestimated,

So these are the kind of guys I’ll have to deal with from now on, the titans of global politics.

I straightened my clothes, steeling myself for the performance ahead.

Now, it was time to debut in the international community as the leader of Korea, the weight of an empire resting on my shoulders.

The stage was set, and the players assembled. Let the great game begin.

***

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