Blood, Sweat, and Fire (1948-2017: Sixty-Nine Years that Changed the World)
Blood, Sweat, and Fire
(1948-2017: Sixty-Nine Years that Changed the World)
Credits:
Author: Magus1108
Co-Author: kevvy2010
Prologue
DN Tower 21, The Suite of the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers, Douglas MacArthur. Tokyo, Japan. April 7th, 1948. 1:27 P.M.
It was the best of times, and it was the worst of times. Or perhaps neither, depending on your point of view.
And in the opinion of Douglas MacArthur, “Gaijin Shogun” of Japan....well, honestly, he just didn't give a damn. Right now, at least. Indeed, what he was currently waiting on....well, as a whole it amounted to far more than anything he had ever done. It held much more importance to him than continuing along with the rebuilding of the Japanese nation.
Oh, make no mistake, it wasn't like he had better things to do than rule and recreate the Japanese; to think he didn't take this job seriously at all would be outrageously false and untrue. However, General MacArthur was on the verge of something that even overshadowed his current accomplishments as Conqueror of the Yellow Menace...if one could believe that! This moment had been in the making for some time now, and soon enough he'd finally have the results.
The results of his first stepping stone unto a New World...the result of the near culmination of his destiny...the result of his first true entry into the political arena...the results of the Wisconsin Republican Primary. The results of the Primary that his supporters had vowed to win for him would be coming forth soon enough. And MacArthur was anxiously awaiting for that glorious and dreadful moment, when he'd receive a telegram from his supporters about the outcome.
The course of the rest of his life was being decided today, in that Primary. Or was decided, considering the damned time zone differences. Either way, his career following his Subjugation of Japan was being chosen for him, now. While others might not think of it exactly that way, it truly would define his life for years to come.
If he didn't win Wisconsin, then his political career was over before it truly began. Because, on the one hand, Dewey would then likely emerge as the Republican Nominee and beat Truman, which would disqualify the General from running in '52; and by '56, it'd probably be too late, if Eisenhower ran for the Republicans. And on the other hand if—by some large miracle or act of God—Truman won his campaign for reelection, then General MacArthur wouldn't stand a chance in the next Presidential cycle. Just like he might run in '56 if Dewey won in '48 and '52, he had no doubt in his mind that Eisenhower would try to run in 1952. Or Patton, bless that ol' scoundrel's heart. While MacArthur had no idea if George had any political ambitions of his own, it was equally probable he might try to run in the (unlikely) scenario that Dewey was defeated by Truman. And if either Patton or Eisenhower ran in '52, it was all over for him. Only an Act of God would stop either of those men from becoming President.
Hm. Speaking of which, he probably ought to have tithed more as a young man. Perhaps then, he would have gotten on the Good Lord's side, and he wouldn't be worried so much about this whole matter.
….Speaking of which, where was that damned telegram from Washington?! His supporters there had promised to send him a telegram about the results of the Wisconsin Primary, but he still hadn't gotten it. Hadn't the damned Primary been held already? What was the hold up? Perhaps the ghost of Hitler was being given an all exclusive interview...that, in MacArthur's opinion, could be the only sane explanation as to why that damned telegram hadn't arrived yet.
The General's revere was broken by a knock at his door. He barked out a gruff “Come in”, and a young woman in her early thirties (his most recent secretary, hired a few months ago) walked into the suite.
“Telegram from Washington, Sir.” the woman said, presenting a slip of paper to him. MacArthur eagerly snatched the slip from her hands, and was quick to devour its contents. Once he was finished, a wide grin slowly overtook his features. Basking in the joy of the telegram, he decided to read it aloud, just to further sentiment in his mind that what he read was real.
“WI Primary won. Dewey, 29%. Stassen, 33%. MacArthur, 38%.”
It was close; closer than he would have liked. But it was still a victory.
A victory that would take Douglas MacArthur, General of the Pacific, all the way to the White House.
“Miss Henderson,” MacArthur began, noticing his secretary was still in the room. “I think it's time to start making some arrangements. Send a message to Truman, please.”
“Alright,” Henderson said, taking out a pad and a pen to transcribe notes. “What do you want to say, Sir?”
“Tell Truman that I want the White House in tip-top shape when I move in.”
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