[SPOILERS] Chevalier Mal Fet and Marcopolothefraud lead a Soviet Down Under

[williams482]

It's unfortunate that the turnpace has dragged on so much lately, but I do appreciate the opportunity to be a little less ignorant of Korean history. Thanks for doing this.

[Chevalier Mal Fet]

No idea if we'll have a turn today - we notoriously had been missing Saturdays even before the turn pace dropped to 3/week as we entered May - so I'll share the next part of my May 18 remembrance today.

I've set up all the dominos, now - you have the basic outline of South Korean politics, and you know how central President Park has been to the development of the country. Now it's time to remove him and start the dominoes falling to May 18th.

So, I present:

Part Five: The President's Last Bang!

The limousine rolled up to the gates of the Presidential palace as the sun sank down towards the Yellow Sea on October 26, 1979. Long evening shadows stretched over the humming streets and alleyways of Seoul, over the grassy parkland surrounding the palace, and splashed across the walls of a small safehouse. Sim Soo-bong nervously rolled down her window so the guards could inspect her and her friend, Shin Jae-soon. After a cursory glance at the two young women, they waved her through. The young singer was expected, and had been a guest of the president before.

Sim was an up-and-coming singer in the world of Korean entertainment. Of course, in the Winter Republic one couldn’t be too radical an artist, but she had made her name as a trot singer, a rollicking, upbeat Korean music genre just then at the height of its popularity. The daughter and niece of musicians, but unable to gain admission to university as a singer, she had been majoring in Business Administration at Myongji University. The year before, though, at the age of 23, she had won the MBC College Song contest with a song of her own composition, catapulting her to the limelight. She had whirled around the Seoul music industry, and Park himself had become a fan. Since then, she had twice been invited to banquet with the President.


Sim Soo-bong in 1978, making her big break.

The women were ushered through the gates, and the limo rolled to the safehouse. Inside, the dinner party assembled: the two young women, who were to be the evening’s entertainment, Chief Party Secretary Kim Gye-won, KCIA Director Kim Jae-gyu, the President’s bodyguard Cha Ji-Chul, and, of course, Park Chung-hee himself.

The man who had ruled the Republic of Korea for most of two decades was a shrunken shadow of his former self. Gone was the handsome, energetic young officer who had once converted the men sent to arrest him to his cause by the simple force of his charisma. Gone, too, was the powerful, forceful President who had transformed Korea into a modern nation. The years of clinging to power, fending off protests and internal challenges, navigating Korea through the dangerous waters of East Asia in the Cold War, the murder of his wife, had left Park a sad, lonely old man. He filled his days with political struggles against the NDP and cracking down on protestors, and his nights with lush banquets attended by pretty young women he brought in to distract him for a time.

The atmosphere that evening, though, was anything but festive. Sim wasn’t party to internal palace politics, but she could feel the tension in the air. It crackled between KCIA Director Kim and Bodyguard Cha, the two men glaring daggers at each other. Party Secretary Kim nervously tried to keep the peace between the two men, making poor attempts at small talk, but he failed. The President was no help at all – the discussion between the three men kept coming back to politics.

Cha took the lead, angrily berating Director Kim for his appalling failure to crush the ongoing protests in Busan. He pounded the table, saying that tanks and planes were too good for these traitors, these Communists, undermining the regime.

Director Kim flushed, angrily defending his KCIA. He had helped keep Park on his throne for 18 years, working his way through the ranks until he had at last become director 3 years before, and now this joker dared to criticise him? Cha had only come around after Youngsoo’s murder in 1974, but had quickly become the favorite of the President. At every turn he took his opportunities to undermine Kim, including now. It was KCIA’s responsibility to crush the protestors.

“We must be cautious, Mr. President,” Kim said. “Moderation is needed – let my agents handle this. We can soothe the protestors, make them go away, and no blood need be shed.”

“I’ve had enough of your ‘moderation,’” Park snapped. “We’ve been moderate for weeks now, and where has it gotten us? I pay you to deal with these traitors, not coddle them.”

Cha nodded vigorously. “It’s obvious the KCIA is failing us, Mr. President,” he said. “If I had my way, these protestors would all be mowed down with tanks!”

Park nodded. “Listen to Mr. Cha, Kim. Sometimes I think he should be in charge of more than just my security. At least one person here talks sense to me!”

Kim, his jaw clenching, stood up and excused himself. Sim, nervously watching with her friend, was relieved to see him go – maybe the evening would calm down from there. She was, of course, wrong. The argument that she witnessed and later reported was perhaps the most consequential in Korean history.

The tension between Director Kim and Chief Bodyguard Cha, which boiled over tonight, had been building for a long time. In his last days, from a Seoul prison cell, Kim would claim that he had always been a supporter of human rights and democracy. Cha, by contrast, was a brutish lout of a man who would cheerfully run over a college student with a tank if only Park would let him.

Kim was an old friend of Park’s. The two men had come up in the same class at the military academy, and he had ridden his friends’ coattails as Park rose to the very heights of power in the Republic. When Kim was detained by revolutionaries in 1961 because of suspected support for the liberal regime, Park had personally intervened for his release. Kim had then commanded the 6th Division (Park’s old command), then Defense Security Command in 1968, an agency within the military that spied on, well, the rest of the military on behalf of the dictator.

Kim would say that it was the Yushin Constitution that turned him against Park, and that he repeatedly plotted his old friend’s assassination in the 8 years since, but had never been able to bring himself to do it. He privately opposed a rising clique within the military, the Hanaho, a group of officers led by one Chun Doo-hwan which swore fanatic loyalty to the Korean Napoleon. He kept his growing resentment of Park quiet, though, and by 1976 he was in command of the KCIA, the main security body for Park’s regime.

In contrast to Director Kim’s moderate, some would even say soft, ways, Chief Bodyguard Cha was an ass. Appointed in the days following First Lady Yuk’s assassination, Cha had exploited his position near the lonely old man to steadily grow his own turf. He commanded the equivalent of a division in tanks and helicopters to assure the security of his Chief. He manipulated the Presidents’ schedule to cut out rivals – Kim’s KCIA briefings, once the first thing in the morning, were pushed to the late afternoon. And he wasn’t afraid to get his own hands dirty – he once assaulted a provincial governor who had surprised the president while lighting his cigarette.


Kim, left (glasses), Park (seated, center) and Cha (standing, right), the inner circle of Korean power in the second half of the ’70s

Over the next 3 years, the rivalry between the two men sharpened and grew. Kim, once Park’s oldest friend, found himself more and more shut out of power by the growing influence of Cha. In the autumn of 1979, the turf war reached its climax.

Kim’s KCIA had been busily interfering in the internal elections of the opposition NDP, seeking to prevent the rise of a hardliner, Kim Young-sam, to power*. This was all old hat for the KCIA, which had been at this nearly 2 decades, and thus far had managed to keep the opposition mostly toothless and confined to pro forma arguments in the assembly and useless protests by college students. This time, though, Cha decided the KCIA’s efforts weren’t good enough and attempted to interfere in the election on his own. The two security services’ dirty tricks departments collided, and farcically, cancelled each other out. Kim Young-sam was elected and immediately pledged not to cooperate with Park until the Yushin constitution was repealed. Cha blamed the whole debacle on the KCIA.

Director Kim urged moderation, wanting to wait for things to blow over. He had tried to soothe Assemblyman Kim as the crisis escalated, even as Park – at Cha’s urging – arranged Kim’s expulsion from the assembly and invalidated his election. Assemblyman Kim refused, the entire NDP resigned, and the US even withdrew its ambassador. Kim’s home region of Masan and Busan erupted into protest.



Worried, Director Kim travelled to the tumultuous cities – this was the region that had brought down President Rhee 20 years before, after all. He expected to see the usual college idiots in the streets, but instead was confronted with adults – it was a popular uprising. Kim hurried back to Seoul, where Cha continued to whisper in Park’s ear that the whole crisis was a result of KCIA’s weakness and incompetence. Park pledged to shoot protestors in the street if necessary, while Kim privately warned him that the protests might spread to Korea’s other large cities if things were allowed to deteriorate.

By now, the two men, Kim and Cha, despised each other utterly, and could hardly stand to be in the same room (which I imagine made for amusing meetings of Park’s inner circle). The morning of October 26, President Park had attended a ribbon cutting ceremony for a dam and a new TV station (run by the KCIA). The men walked out onto the helicopter pad near the Blue House, where the presidential vehicle sat, rotors humming. Park climbed on board, but as Kim made to enter behind him, Cha, smirking, placed his arm across the door. He had decided that Kim no longer merited riding in the same helicopter as the President. Kim, enraged, muttered a few excuses and abandoned the trip entirely.

Just before they entered the dining room that night, Director Kim had told Secretary Kim that he would get rid of Chief Bodyguard Cha. Secretary Kim had cocked an eyebrow in confusion, but Director Kim said no more.

Inside, the girls joined them, the dinner arrived, and, despite Secretary Kim’s best efforts, the conversation turned again and again to the ongoing protests, and Cha continued to needle Kim again and again, with the old President Park nodding blithely along…and Kim stood up, and stormed out.

It isn’t known, to this day, whether or not Kim planned all the events that followed. Perhaps it was spur of the moment. Perhaps it was the product of a meticulous plot. Perhaps he had intended it, and was waiting for only the right moment. The truth can probably never be known, since all the men involved are now dead. What is known is this:

Director Kim left the dining room, and met with two of his close subordinates, who were in the safehouse the dinner was being held in. They were Park Heung-ju, Kim’s secretary, and his chief agent, Park Seon-ho.** “Chief Staff and Deputy Director are here as well,” he told the two men. “Today is the day.” Kim then seized a pistol and marched back into the room, with a look of terrible wrath upon his face.

As the guests cried out in panic, Kim opened fire. Chief Bodyguard Cha was shot in the arm, and he abandoned his charge, fleeing to a nearby bathroom, where he cowered. Park took a bullet to the chest, but he still lived. Kim pursued Cha, but the old pistol jammed. Kim worked furiously at the jam for a few moments, then, glaring at Park, he left the room. He fetched Seon-ho’s service pistol, marched back into the dining room, and threw open the door to the bathroom. Kim took special satisfaction in dispatching his rival with a shot to the abdomen before turning back to Park.

No one knows exactly what he said to the old president, but after an exchange of words, Kim leveled his pistol and executed him with a single bullet to the head. Park Chung-hee, the Korean Napoleon, the man who had ruled Korea for 18 years and transformed the entire country in his image, was no more.


Kim later re-enacted part of the assassination during his trial.

As the firing broke out, Kim’s subordinates raced through the house. Seon-ho took two bodyguards at gunpoint, including a friend of his. He hoped to hold them prisoner, but one of the men made a dive for his gun. Seon-ho cut them both down. Meanwhile, Heung-ju stormed the kitchen with 2 other KCIA agents and killed the remaining bodyguard. Somewhere in all thsi crossfire, the presidential chauffeur outside was also killed, bringing the night’s bodycount to six.

Kim, presumably slightly dazed by what he had just done, ran out of the room (leaving the terrified Sim and Shin cowering by the table). He ordered Chief Secretary Kim to secure the safe house (Kim obeyed more out of habit than anything else) and then raced to the nearby KCIA building. He found the Army Chief of Staff, Jeong Seung-hwa, there. Jeong, one of the highest ranking officers in the military, could be a powerful ally. Kim could place him on the throne as president, and rule from behind the scenes himself. It wasn’t like the KCIA director was spoiled for choice – having just shot dead the President, his bodyguard, and 4 other human beings in a fit of rage he would now either conquer or die. The President’s chair or the hangman’s noose were his only two options remaining.


Jeong Seung-hwa, ROKA Chief of Staff in 1979

General Jeong had no idea what was happening. He had heard the gunshots, though, and as Kim, breathless, ran in through the door he demanded to know what was going on. Perhaps thinking it tactless to say “Well, I just murdered the man who has ruled our country for 18 years, plus, like, a lot of other people, including that bastard Cha,” Kim instead in a fit of understatement announced that an emergency situation had arisen. He urged Jeong to come with him to impose martial law and get a grip on things (before the ever-dastardly North Koreans invaded, of course).

Jeong, confused and hustled along by Kim, climbed into a car with him and the two sped off for KCIA headquarters. Kim’s base of power was there, and from that location, he could set in motion a quick coup to stabilize his control of Seoul and thereby the rest of the ROK. On the way, though, Kim told Jeong that Park had died, although he failed to mention exactly how that situation came to be (again, imagine how awkward that conversation would have been. Much best to wait, yes).

And then the conspirators (for a conspirator Jeong was now, although he didn’t realize it yet) had to make a decision as their car sped through the nighttime streets of Seoul. Ahead and to the left lay Namsan district (today famous for Namsan tower, which dominates the Seoul skyline) and the KCIA headquarters where Kim usually laired. Further ahead and to the right was Yongsan, where the Korean armed forces were headquartered, Jeong’s usual base of operations. Jeong resisted going to KCIA headquarters – if martial law was declared (and it would have to be, with Park Chung-hee’s body presently cooling in a bloody dining room somewhere), he’d need to be in contact with his army units. The car should go to army headquarters.

Kim resisted, understandably. At KCIA, he’d be surrounded by his minions. Jeong would know exactly what Kim wanted him to know, and he’d have Jeong entirely in his power if the Chief of Staff needed persuading to see things the Director’s way. The opposite would be true at army headquarters – Jeong would be secure in his own power base, with access to his own sources of information, unable to be hustled the way Kim wanted him hustled. But Jeong was the only high-ranking member of the military Kim had access to that night, and if he coudln’t get the military to support or at least stay neutral, then his coup would fail (and he would hang). Kim begged, he pleaded, he even wheedled (a bit), but Jeong was firm. No army, no martial law. No martial law, no coup. So the car turned right and went to army headquarters and thereby Kim Jae-gyu’s fate was sealed.


Prime Minister Choi Kyu-hah, a previous non-entity whose surprising show of spine will one day play a decisive role in the history of his country. Not yet, though.

Chief Party Secretary Kim, meanwhile, had been left back at the safehouse with all the dead people (and two terrified college students) lying around. Secretary Kim, who had either done this sort of thing before or else possessed an admirable ability to keep his head in a crisis, organized a cleanup, quickly took the two surviving witnesses (besides himself) into custody, and sped the Presidents’ body to a nearby army hospital and ordered the doctors to save him at all costs. My sources note that he specifically did not reveal the man’s identity to the doctors, but it seems that would hardly be necessary. Then he raced to the Prime Minister’s office, Choi Kyu-ha, to tell him everything that he had seen.

At Army Headquarters, Director Kim was busy spinning a thrilling tale of North Korean commandos, who had burst into the KCIA safehouse (no doubt casting serious doubt on the competency of the KCIA in the process) and gunned down President Park and Chief Bodyguard Cha*** before, er, vanishing into the night. Anyway, no time for questions, it was essential that Jeong declare martial law and control the city before the assassins escaped and the North took advantage of the confusion. Jeong would not be stampeded into anything, though, and he insisted on contacting the Prime Minister first, as the only real “civilian” authority left in the wake of the President’s death.

Here things began to unravel for Director Kim. He may have trusted to Secretary Kim’s loyalty, or hoped to reach Kim later to tell him the “official” story, but his need to go after Jeong first, and then allowing Jeong to take him to army headquarters, had made that impossible. And by not murdering Secretary Kim along with everyone else, he had inadvertently allowed a narrative to escape that would challenge his own: namely, that Director Kim himself had murdered the President and Cha (and, it should not be forgotten, a bunch of other people!) in a fit of rage. But why would Director Kim have murdered Secretary Kim? His resentment and frustration were directed at Cha, and the way Cha had turned his old friend Park against him. He had no quarrel with the party. And thus the mercy of Kim proved his undoing.

The Chief of Staff left Kim at army headquarters and hurried to the side of Prime Minister Choi. There, an emergency meeting of the cabinet was convened. Jeong heard the entire story from the Prime Minister, and his face grew stiff, and cold, and he knew what he must do.

Kim had a strong base of power in the KCIA, which was the most feared organization in the ROK at that time as the primary enforcers of Park’s regime. But Kim was cut off from most of the KCIA, and vulnerable. Jeong asked Kim to meet with him at a secluded area, outside army headquarters. Kim still knew he needed Jeong’s support, and he, fatally, consented. When he arrived at the meeting spot, Kim found not the Army Chief of Staff waiting for him, but armed military police to take him into custody.

Jeong acted quickly to neutralize the power of the KCIA. He turned to the only other internal security apparatus the ROK had, the Security Command under Chun Doo-hwan, and ordered him to investigate the incident.

This is the spark that eventually explodes in Gwangju, 9 months later.

Remember, Chun Doo-hwan was head of a clique of young officers fanatically loyal to Park. He was enraged at hsi mentor’s death, and he was ruthless in dismantling the KCIA. The Security Command, which you will also recall was the agency charged with keeping tabs on the military itself, was perfectly positioned to move efficiently through the upper reaches of power. Kim and his handful of minions were all swiftly arrested, tortured, and, ultimately, for most, executed. In so doing Chun Doo-hwan demolished the grip KCIA had over internal Korean politics, and at the same time established his own, new power base. While Chief of Staff Jeong moved tentatively toward civilian rule, Chun and his coterie found themselves with a sterling opportunity to preserve Park’s legacy and continue the rule of the military.

As for Director Kim, he was imprisoned and tortured, naturally. Most of the information contained in this narrative emerged from the sensational trial of Kim Jae-gyu over the next six months.

Kim argued that he acted out of a hither-to unsuspected love of democracy in his trial. He claimed that many times he had attempted to or thought about arresting or murdering Park, but each time had backed down. He also revealed long-held contacts with opposition leaders (like his attempt to smooth things over iwth Kim Young-sam just before this crisis). He also claimed the American CIA had backed him, which is not as implausible as I would like.

Chun Doo-hwan, meanwhile, somehow kept a straight face as he declared that the assassination was clearly the product of a long-running conspiracy by Kim to murder the President and subvert democracy. He cheerfully ignored such objections as the fact that Kim clearly had no plan at all for after the assassination, the fact that he’d had to borrow a gun to carry it out, the fact that he vented his rage and resentment towards Cha aloud while shooting him, and the fact that he hadn’t even given his own agents like Park Seon-ho more than about 5 minutes’ warning.

But it’s good to be the dictator, and dictator Chun Doo-hwan was. Kim and his fellow conspirators were quickly sentenced, one after another. Colonel Park heung-ju, Kim’s secretary, was easiest to deal with. As a member of the military he could be summarily convicted and executed by firing squad, which he was on March 6, 1980. The remaining conspirators – Director Kim, his agent Park Seon-ho, the driver Yoo Seong-ok, head of safehouse security Lee Ki-ju (convicted presumbly on the grounds that he was fucking terrible at his job), and Kim Tae-won, a security agent who tried to help the whole affair look like a Nork attack, were all hanged on May 24, 1980, neatly closing the affair.

Except that on May 24, 1980, the Chun administration had much, much larger problems on their minds – namely, the revolt against their rule that had broken out the week earlier in Gwangju, on May 18, 1980. We’ll get there.

As for the college students, Sim and Shin, both women were imprisoned for around a month while the authorities sorted out what the hell had happened (and what the hell they would tell the public, notably not the same thing). They were released more or less unharmed apart from the psychological trauma, but Sim was banned from television until 1984 (who knew what she might say if given a platform?). Her career nevertheless survived and she went on to modest fame and success. Forever and always, though, she is most well known as one of the most intimate witnesses of the end of the Winter Republic.****

As for Chief of Staff Jeong and Security Command chief Chun, the two men found themselves unexpectedly at the apex of Korean politics, a situation neither had dreamed of even a week before. Now they had to sort out the pecking order between them, and the fallout from their confrontation is the final, irrevocable step on the road to the Gwangju Uprising.

Next time: The War of the Stars!


*There are only a few surnames in Korea. By far the most common are Kim, Park, and Lee. I apologize for any confusion which results.

**No relation to each other or to the President. See previous note.

***The fact that those just happened to be two people that Kim really fucking hated was purely a coincidence, of course.

**** The events of October 26, 1979, were satirized in the Korean black comedy film The President’s Last Bang! from which I have of course drawn my title. It’s a good movie and fairly accurate to events – accurate enough that the maker won a defamation suit brought against him by the children of President Park (one of those children was President of Korea, no less). Here’s the trailer. I recommend the whole film if you can find it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2Am1hL-lm0

[Chevalier Mal Fet]

Turn 133

Amazingly we do have a turn! Two turns in as many days, a rarity the last three weeks. This is my last quiet turn before the next ones start off pretty fun:




I start off here, where one of the two survivors of the Australian Expedition is skulking around. He is quickly apprehended and sent to a POW camp in the tundra near Oryol for his crimes against The People. 

Oryol begins Operation Noche Triste:




The plan here is to recruit two builders using faith - with 4 chops and some re-improvements available I shall need the extra charges. One purchased this turn, then next turn I purchase a second and swap Liang and Magnus. Magnus establishes on turn 139, when I will have invested 174 production, more or less, in the project, leaving 536 remaining. Both builders will then chop forests. In 6 turns, I will have finished 30 techs and 23 civics, so Magnus chops for 132 unless I can squeeze out another tech in that time - possible, I suppose, but not likely. It only makes 1 turn or so's worth of difference. Anyway, on 139, we chop 2 forests for 264 production, leaving 272 production remaining. The builders move, we invest another turn's worth of production into things, and on turn 140 or thereabouts I chop out the remaining 240 production. I need to remove some mines and lumberyards to make this happen, so 141 is a more likely finish date. But 8 turns' investment in return for +1 food and production on 20-odd tiles, many of which I'm already working, AND 4 amenities just when I've lost 4 amenities from the WC is pretty solid returns for the investment. I'll never be able to chop those forests into ships here, so, yeah. 




At the front, my fleet moves into position. I don't THINK I've been detected by suboptimal - as far as I know he's just been sitting pat in the city, and I've kept out of vision range carefully, even if the jong were to venture out 3 spaces and back in on his move - if he came out 4 he'd spot me but then he couldn't retreat into the city. Anyway, we'll hit sub by surprise, hopefully, with 5 frigates, 2 caravels, and 6 galleys next turn. It should take 1 turn to strip the walls, possibly 2, and the city should fall on turn 235, at which point we begin shelling Monomakh's walls. Again, hopefully, Indonesian defenders will have been sucked north to the feint near African Skies, and the secondary attack at Good Time. 

My goal for this attack is generally to seize a base. When the city falls on 135, if all goes according to plan, I'll be able to move in and upgrade many galleys on the same round, giving me ~6 caravels and ~6 frigates, less losses, to push north into Indochinese waters. Now, China has been upgrading approximately that amount of frigates, and sub has the ability to build a jong plus faith purchase another soon, and to top it off they have the gold for about 4 caravel upgrades of their own. So the margin of superiority will be slimmer than I'd like, BUT I will have a few caravels and galleys hitting China's far coast, which will either suck away defenders, tie down ships already there, or at least I can pillage some harbors in the deal. The secondary benefit will be a base to faith purchase units for the invasion of Sakhalin, letting me take that island without further investment of resources. 

The secondary attack will begin shortly after:




I need to have the walls down by the end of turn 138 to let Australia liberate the city on 139. Per the experience at Skies, that indicates an attack date on 137 with 2-3 frigates. That will coincide roughly with the fall of Monomakh and Skies, so in approximately 4 successive turns Indonesia will lose 4 cities, or a third of his empire. The only way to save the rest of the island will be defeating my navy in battle, so I should be able force a decisive confrontation in Indonesian waters around 140. Assuming I win with my frigates and at least one caravel relatively intact, I can begin the rapid reduction of the three cities on the bay - Call Me Al, Ryan Kent (source of nearly 16 Chinese cpt and gpt, razed), and Steve Davis. 

A few things if you look closely:






Do you see the gaps in the walls? It's easier at Steve Davis. That means that sub and roland are building medieval walls at those cities. That's excellent news, since it means they aren't building ships. 

Anyway, it looks like Indochina is going for a static defense, rather than an active offense, so on the whole things are looking up. 

Abroad, though, the news is dire. Archduke's military power has collapsed, and while I think he could stalemate Phoenicia Norway now has ~1000 points himself. Together the two outnumber England by 3:1. once the remnants of the English fleet are sunk, then English cities will start falling. Japan, by the way, has not suffered any losses - in fact his milscore has barely moved. 

We find the Phoenician fleet:




To the east must be the city of Writing on the Wall, the source of all this idiotic conflict. Those five frigates and a caravel account for ~half of Phoenician power, and they'll make short work of a city once they can safely target it. Archduke should try and maneuver to, uh, not let that happen. I'd fall back behind my cities and then come in for a strike when they begin stripping the walls, while hoping that the Japanese slouch over...eventually. IF Woden and Ljubljana are poorly coordinated, and IF they decide they've won and stop building ships, then maybe Archduke can scrape a survival here. 

Anyone wanna bet on that happening? No? Yeah, I thought not, either. 

We get eyes on the Punic capital of Cuneiform:




The last two capitals in the fog are China and England's capital cities. 

Overview of Fuji Bay:




This fucking barb. It's ridiculous. WHY IS IT JUST SITTING THERE. WHY IS IT NOT SCOUTING KAISER? He delayed this city nearly 10 turns just by standing in the exact wrong 2 of 10,000 tiles. Getouddaherewitdat. 

Russia:




Shipbuilding hits its lowest point, but will resume next turn as the lighthouses finish and trend upwards again. Probably won't stop, ever. 

Svalbard:




Science is ~25% higher than the nearest competitor. Culture is barely half of China's (for now).

[marcopolothefraud]

Sorry for the lack of posts. But yeah, I'm glad that the turn pace is picking up too.



Magnus finally slots in at Illmatic, which allows me to chop the rice tile for food. This instantly brings it from 3 pop to 4 pop, and it will hit 5 pop next turn because of food overflow. It switches to a +5 Holy Site...though I'm unsure whether the rate of return will really be important at this point of the game.

Two caravels at former Rodeo are busy heading north, to attack the former Indonesian city-state and liberate it for +100% production. It's going to take another 5 turns to get there, unfortunately.

[Chevalier Mal Fet]

Archduke held the save for ages, then Kaiser has gone to bed, meaning no turn today, meaning even if I play early tomorrow sub won't be able to, so we lose a whole day.

Again.

[Chevalier Mal Fet]

Yep, no turn today, because rather than take 10 minutes Kaiser would rather delay everything 10 hours, which in turn means a completely lost day tomorrow. Christ, the turn pace is driving me INSANE if you hadn't been able to tell the last 2 weeks. 

Part 6: The War of the Stars

The six weeks between the assassination of Park Chung-hee and the coup of December 12 were the most uncertain Korea had faced since Syngman Rhee had fled to Hawaii, 20 years before. Then, the faltering and uncertain Second Republic had been overthrown by General Park. Now, the upper reaches of power were split between two men: Jeong Seung-hwa, Army Chief of Staff, and Chun Doo-hwan, head of the Security Command of internal military police. That November saw a short but sharp power struggle between the two generals, “the war of the stars,”* referencing the generals’ stars each wore on their shoulder, to determine the future of Korea.


You know you can just *buy* vintage portraits of former ROKA Chiefs of Staff on Amazon? Get ’em while they’re hot!
Jeong Seung-hwa had been offered the presidency by Kim Jae-gyu, the Director of KCIA and assassin of President Park, but instead Jeong had gone to the prime minister, Choi Kyu-hah. Now, under the Yushin Constitution, all power had been invested with the president and the prime minister was mostly useful for keeping seats warm, and accordingly the office was held by a series of non-entities. Prime Minister Choi was another grey and forgettable bureaucrat, or he should have been, but he actually had the temerity to show a spine now that Park was safely six feet under the earth and no longer capable of objecting. Jeung and Choi had collaborated, seen Director Kim arrested, and made noises about possibly, maybe, eventually but not too soon, having real and open democratic elections in the country.


In the other camp was Chun Doo-hwan. This joker had graduated from the academy a few years after Park, and in the wake of Park’s coup, no doubt sniffing which way the wind was blowing, he had led a series of demonstrations in support of the new dictator. Chun’s toadyism was rewarded with a series of military commands, and he even saw shots fired in anger in Vietnam.** Chun led a faction of officers, nicknamed the Hanahoe, “Group of One,” fanatically devoted to Park’s vision of authoritarian rule. Most of the members of this secret club were Chun’s own drinking buddies and cronies from his rise up through the ranks. By 1979, despite the best efforts of KCIA Director Kim (who trusted Chun about as much as he trusted North Korean promises of peace and reconciliation if the South would just see the light on Communism), Chun was in command of the Security Command , one of the quietly most powerful positions in the army due to its role of policing the army and preventing coups. In theory, Security Command was checked by the KCIA, which was also in charge of preventing coups, but in the wake of the assassination Chun had arrested Kim and seized power over that agency, too. It was an extremely dangerous situation for the Republic, one that Choi and Jeong were not blind to.

Like I said, Joeng had made noises about “the Yushin system must end,” and had moved to exclude “politically minded” officers from positions of power. He steadily worked his way through the ranks, re-assigning or demoting officers he considered insufficiently reliable, while Choi attempted to actually move towards becoming something like a leader for the country. Choi won provisional elections on December 6, 1979, to finish out Park’s term, and Jeong felt secure enough to move against Chun himself. Two days later, on December 8, he quietly spoke with the Minister of Defense about getting Chun reassigned to the Eastern Coast Guard command, a safely backwater assignment if there ever was one.

Rumors reached Chun of his upcoming free trip to the chilly Taebaek mountains, and surprisingly he did not react well to the prospect of being exiled from the wealth and power of Seoul to the frozen, rugged shoreline to the east. With his strong power base in the city, he moved quickly. He immediately spoke with a key division head and made a completely plausible-and-definitely-not-made-up-on-the-spot case why Jeong was clearly mad with power and needed to be arrested:

1)He had been friendly with Kim Jae-gyu, the presidential assassin (highly suspicious if you ask me)***

2)He had been “present” at Park’s assassination (in that yes, he was in the general neighborhood)

3)He had received money from Kim at one point (imagine the KCIA clandestinely spending money)

4)He had recommended that some of Kim’s murder charges be reduced (covering for his buddy, eh?)

5)he had asked that the murder trial be quickly concluded, if possible (trying to subvert the wheels of justice, eh? Well, they may grind fine, but they grind slowly, buddy, and you’ll sit there and like it, by Buddha)

6)Also some of the officers just plain didn’t like him (no I am not kidding this was seriously proposed as a reason for the arrest of the Chief of Staff of the entire Korean army).

With these facts laid out in front of him, presumably accompanied by lots of suggestive eyebrow waggling, the 9th Division commander agreed that it only made sense to arrest Jeong. The date was set for December 12. In the meantime, Chun went to his buddies in the Hanahoe and quickly recruited their support for his scheme. Through his friendship with park, most of the upper ranks of the military were seeded with his supporters, and he could pull upon several combat divisions, paratroop brigades, and capital guards for his plot.


The Hanahoe pauses for a rare group photo

On the appointed day, Chun and a couple flunkies entered army headquarters using the pre-arranged password “A birthday party in the house,” and got the festivities started. Two officers hurried to Jeong’s residence, arriving just before 7, where they unaccountably faffed about for 25 minutes before getting around to telling Jeong that they had a presidential order to arrest him to record his “statement concerning Kim Jae-gyu.”  Jeong inexplicably grew upset at this and demanded to speak to the president personally about this arrest order, which as you can imagine would have been super awkward since of course President Choi had made no such order (and in fact hadn’t yet even been informed of the arrest in progress). When the officers refused, Jeong called his aide into the room with some of his guards. A short but sharp firefight broke out between the arresting squad and Jeong’s reinforcements, and Jeong’s aide was killed. The conspirators were victorious when one of their squad, no doubt incredibly excited to act out a scenario he’d rehearsed many times in his head during the long hours of boring guard duty, blasted his M16 through a window before crashing through himself to get the drop on General Jeong. Jeong was taken into custody.

Meanwhile, Chun and some other bigwigs headed to President Choi’s official residence and got around to asking permission to arrest Jeong. And here their troubles began: Choi refused to grant that permission. That made matters a tad delicate, since of course the conspirators had already gone ahead and done the thing. Choi argued that such a move needed the consent of the defense minister. Chun pleaded and persisted, but the Official Chair-warmer had grown into his role as President and held out, demanding to see the minister. He also ordered Chun to return to his post. Chun shrugged and casually ordered his men to disarm the presidential guard and blockade the President in his home until he saw reason.


The Blue House, official residence of the President of Korea

He rounded up some reinforcements – impressive looking military commanders, a handful of privates with big guns to look intimidating, and then stormed back into the President’s office to try and strongarm him into legitimizing hte arrest, claiming that all the senior military officers (look, I went to a lot of time and effort to round up all these generals and colonels and you will respect that!) were behind him. Unaccountably, Choi’s backbone held, even with the guns being waved around in his office, and he still refused. Chun Doo-hwan was now in a very awkward position of his own making. He couldn’t exactly un-arrest Jeong, but to persist would make him guilty of mutiny. His attempt to neutralize General Jeong would have to escalate to a full-blown coup.

Around the capital, other members of the military were catching wind of the situation. Jeong’s deputy, Vice-Chief of Staff Yun Seong-min ordered Chun and his cohorts to return to their posts, and while they were at it to release his boss. Chun ignored him. Officers around Seoul started to hurry to their posts.

By 10:30, more than 3 hours of bluster had failed to sway Choi. In desperation, the coup leaders knuckled under to his demands and phoned the Defense Minister, asking him to come over, hoping – I guess? – that he would legitimize their move. The Defense Minister hadn’t been born yesterday, despite Chun’s assumptions, and refused to come, instead saying that Jeong had to be released. At that point, Chun concluded approximately, “Fuck it,” and ordered in the paratroopers.

The conspirators’ armed muscle flooded into the streets as the clock turned to December 13, and quickly seized most of the key military headquarters and took everyone who wasn’t on board with the program into custody. By dawn the citizens of Seoul woke up to tanks in the streets and Chun Doo-hwan firmly in control of the levers of government. He and his buddies, showing the imagination military officers are famous for, began styling themselves the New Military Power. The entire coup had taken only about 10 hours from start to finish.

Or had it?



In later years, historians would call this the slowest coup in recorded history. It took more than 8 months for Chun to secure power, because there was an unexpected snag in hsi plan: Fucking Choi had a backbone.

Choi had just been elected president, and actually commanded some level of popular support, more or less. Furthermore, the illusion of the Republic of Korea as a democracy was critical to maintaining the vital alliance with the United States. So while Jeong was neatly squirreled away in a prison for his role in the assassination of President Park****, Chun couldn’t just arrest or shoot Choi out of hand.

It wasn’t that Choi actually mattered. The entire country was under martial law, and Chun was effectively running things. But without Choi, Chun lacked any sort of legitimacy, and he needed that legitimacy to stabilize his rule. As long as Choi held out, Chun’s regime teetered atop a volcano of public protest and outrage. So, Chun worked quietly to undermine and sideline Choi, until he could be neatly placed aside.

The New Military Power worked all through that winter and spring to consolidate the new regime, the 5th Republic.***** The army’s information warfare section was expanded and initiated “K-Operations,” a policy aimed at suppressing the public’s desire for democratization and increasing their desire for safety, playing up the North Korean threat and the threat from internal subversion. Another, more significant measure was “True Heart” training.

Chun had seen what a friggin’ mess of things college students could make, if given the opportunity, and he was sick to death of the kid glove tactics the police employed that let things get out of hand. He hated images of long lines of police standing around with their thumbs in their belts while idiot college kids burned down the city. If he’d been in charge there would have been no Bu-Ma protests, no sir! Hell, there wouldn’t have been an April Revolution, like the one that brought down President Rhee. Chun would avoid their mistakes.

He took his most reliable troops, the paratrooper brigades that had won him the capital, and started training them in new counter-protest tactics. These new skullbreakers were taught to charge in and aggressively break up demonstrations. They’d punch the protestors right in the mouth and then kick their asses again as they ran off home. The True Heart units would harass and continually break up new groups of protestors, take ringleaders into custody, and prevent any mass movement from organizing. They were given swanky new batons, ash, about 70 centimeters long, and fully capable of bashing in the head of some Physics major from Seoul University with a minimum of fuss. Any demonstrators they caught would be stripped, tossed in a truck, and shipped off to a prison to be roughed up for a few more days before they were turned loose, having learned a very valuable lesson about Respect For Authority.

There was a certain sense of urgency around the True Heart program, since Chun had a lot of angry Physics majors in the streets in those days.

Students had long been a source of headaches for which ever authoritarian regime was the latest to slouch into Seoul. Rhee had been toppled by protests over the death of a student, and the little brats had been such a headache for Park that in 1975 he banned student organizations altogether and imposed his own program, the Student Defense Corps. That had gone by the wayside with his death, though, and the next generation began to once again slink back out onto the streets.

Tentatively, starting around April in Seoul and then spreading to other universities nationwide, the students started such radical measures as having Student Council elections and suggesting that perhaps all male college students shouldn’t be required to give several years of their lives to the military. The New Military Regime denounced this behavior as obviously unpatriotic and said that the students “lacked security consciousness,” since clearly the thin blue line of drafted gawky teenagers was the only thing holding back the ravening hordes of Communist supermen to the North. Confrontations and clashes between the kids and the military became increasingly common.

The students tried to avoid criticisms that they were “destablizing” the country and opening a window for an invasion by limiting their protests mostly to campus. But at the same time, their demands grew from the modest request that they be allowed to elect their own student governments to full blown demands for the democratization of the country. Choi still refused to give his assent to the New Military Regime, and that refusal fueled the students. The protests spread and became general in universities across the country as April turned to May.

It was a time of hope for the students. Choi still talked about democracy. For many of them, it was the first time in their lives they had known any regime except that of Park Chung-hee. Anything seemed possible – even a democratic future for Korea. They started calling it the “Seoul Spring,” in memory of another hopeful springtime twelve years before, in Prague, 1968.

Of course, that spring had ended bloodily.

The protesters demanded an end to martial law and that power be rested from the hands of Director Chun (who had, in the meantime, resigned from the army so that he could be appointed director of the KCIA, now reformed in his image). And all the while various units completed True Heart training and were quietly spread around the country.

The first two weeks of May saw things rapidly approaching a climax. 27 student groups from universities across Seoul met quietly, and then returned to their campuses with a unified plan of action. 70,000 students poured into the streets (I know, I can hardly believe it, either – students who pay attention to their student council!), marching and chanting slogans calling for the downfall of Chun and the ‘remnants of the Yushin system.’ The next day, May 15, 100,000 students joined – and the protests were going nationwide. Every city with a major university saw students surging into the streets.


Hundreds of thousands gather in front of Seoul Station, May 15, 1980

However, the general population was reluctant to join in. With no popular support, the students for once in their lives did the prudent thing and toned things down. May 16 and 17 were quiet, mostly, as the students quietly withdraw and plotted their next move in their ongoing confrontation with Chun.

And it was here that Chun completely screwed the pooch. After more than 6 months of wrangling, he had had it with Choi’s continued refusal to get with the program. The growing flame of the student movement finally ran out his patience. At an emergency meeting on May 17, he and his cronies in the New Military Power sat down with ‘president’ Choi. Demonstrating the growing unrest in the streets, Chun browbeat Choi into accepting an extension of martial law: Now campuses, too, after their brief flirtation of freedom following the Park assassination, would be firmly placed under the control of the military. True Heart units were even then en route to every university in Seoul, as well as detachments sent to major universities in the provinces. The universities would be closed until all that could be sorted out, the ringleaders of the little jerks in the streets would be arrested, oh, as would most of the ringleaders of the political opposition in the National Assembly, who had been gleefully making hay of the whole situation. Oh, and Chun was fed up with Choi’s antics: He would resign as soon as things calmed down and Chun would become president.

Satisfied, Chun left the meeting, which had been effectively a legal coup. The longest coup in the history of the world, stretching from December 12, 1979 to May 18, 1980, was over. He went to bed that night satisfied that he cut the head off the student movement, that his True Heart units would mop up any lingering dead-enders, and his political opposition was effectively neutered.

When he woke up, he learned that some jokers down in Gwangju apparently hadn’t gotten the memo:


*Not to be confused with “the Star War,” which I believe is a popular science-fiction franchise created by George Lucas.

**After the United States, Korea had the second-largest commitment of troups to the defense of South Vietnam, more than 300,000 men. They accomplished little beyond padding the pockets of a gaggle of corrupt REMFs and depopulating several backwater provinces, but in fairness that’s about all the Americans managed anyway so we can’t be too harsh on them.

***Somehow Chun delivered this briefing with a straight face, despite the fact that Kim Jae-gyu had literally offered Jeong the Presidency already and Jeong had turned it down, and that it had been Jeong himself who ordered Chun to investigate and arrest (not necessarily in that order) Director Kim.

****He would at last be released 17 years later and cleared of all charges. Jeong passed away in 2002.

***** Syngman Rhee had led the First Republic. The Second had been the brief-lived liberal regime before Park’s coup. Park had led the Third Republic, then after proclaiming the Yushin Constitution the Fourth.

[Krill]

This is why I think reamers have to be played with no communication between teammates

[Chevalier Mal Fet]

I (uselessly, I know, but it's the thought that counts) played my Sunday turn early this morning in the hopes that we'd get a real Monday turn. So far, in the last three weeks, we have managed I think two days in a row with a turn, but never more. In the 4 months of the game before that, we only missed days perhaps one day every two or three weeks. 

Anyway, no pictures, since they're on my home PC, so I'll do a real report when I get home, but for the record:

1)More trade routes are coming online and being routed to Woden for upgrade cash. My bloating military and worsening amenities have dropped gold generation down to 150 per turn. Two new trade routes in two turns will get it back up to 180 (ie, 1 caravel upgrade/turn). That means I need to begin saving NOW for ironclads ~20 turns down the road. Since I think I'll be outnumbered by Woden and ljubljana I will need those ironclads plus my great admiral to have a chance. 

2)We began our assault on Shikishima on my turn. 4 frigates fired, 3 boosted by a great admiral. The walls only took about 70% damage, though, so Sub will get 3 jong-level attacks on his turn, from the cities and the jong in Shikishima. I expect one ship to be lost and a second crippled. On turn 135 we shall capture the city and sink the jong in compensation, so this is a good exchange. 

3)Sub has the faith for a jong purchase in 2 turns or wall purchases right now. Not sure which I prefer - wall purchases slow me down, but jongs are more dangerous to the fleet. Probably I hope he buys walls in Vladimir, since that will slow the conquest slightly but not threaten to sink a ship and so ultimately won't matter much.  

4)We will begin our assault on Good Time next turn, and I have hopes that with no jong in the city we can legitimately strip the walls in a single turn, even without a great admiral. That will give us 4 turns to reduce the city to 0 before Australia strikes the final blow for double production, slingshotting him into recovery. 

5)The knight will arrive at Skies' shores on turn 135, landing on 136, so Skies will fall on turn 137. 

Everything else can wait for a proper report this afternoon, it's not like you'll hear from sub before 8 pm or so this evening anyway.

[Chevalier Mal Fet]

Turn 134

I played in a hurry this morning before work.




Two builders purchased for the necessary chops. One is swimming across the lake to the two lumber mills over the way, the other will deal with the hills closer to town. Note that my amenities situation is costing me already 3 science just since last turn - population growth is hurting science at this point until I get more amenities from somewhere. I estimate that right now I'm losing 10% yields in nearly 1/3 of my cities, a not insignificant amount of yields per turn. So Huey will be worth it on that basis alone. However, it'll also add 20 food and 20 hammers to tiles in the empire, including hard-to-grow tundra cities. On the whole, then, it will pay off fairly rapidly, and it's not like I had other things of equal impact to use the production on. 

Over in Phoenicia...




GalRon3 moves into position for upgrades next turn, with whatever spare gold I have. Then the caravels will move out and raid the Chinese coast. As long as I stick together I should be able to handle anything Roland will have over here, since 6 caravels is more or less the entire Chinese fleet. 

In the far northeastern theater, most of Second Fleet moves into position to begin the assault on Good Time next turn:




Scouting reveals a single galley in the city. The walls are not finished. The most harmful thing Sub could do here is either upgrade the galley sitting in the city or move it out and faith purchase a caravel. That will severely stall this attack. If neither of those happens I am confident in my ability to reduce the walls in one turn. 

Shikishima is a tougher nut, 9 points higher in defense:




We have the city surrounded, and I don't know how much of this attack sub scouted - ideally, none. 

I patiently sail in everyone before opening fire:




The modern ships sail in, the galleys arrange themselves as a screen to prevent any attacks on our rear on the interturn. The great admiral boosts all except one of the combatant ships. The high strength makes the walls a tough go:




Even though it's only 100 hp instead of 200, the jong and Bastions are no joke. I shall lose one ship in return fire, but We Have Reserves, and then I see no way to prevent the city's fall on turn 135. 

In the meantime, I decide to move out the spare caravel and frigate out of sub's view range, so there are 6 galleys, 1 caravel, and 1 frigate he knows nothing about. Then when the city falls he'll have a harder time knowing what's going on, and when I upgrade the galleys next turn it should be a surprise to any attempted relief of the city. 

Phoenicia and Norway show how it's done:




See how they actually operate their ships together? If Suboptimal had built a ton of galleys to go with his jongs, and China had sent in a bunch of galleys and quads at the same time, I don't think any Australian cities would have survived, and the eastern half of Russia would probably have gone, too. Thank God. 

Anyway, Woden and ljubljana are clearly not to be taken lightly. Hopefully Archduke hasn't just given up and will fight tooth and nail, as we did when under jong attack. 

That said, ljubljana has made some questionable choices. For example, this commercial hub:




Sure, 5 gold, very impressive. But you already had a cothon in this city, and a trade route! How much production did you spend on this and the market? For Mercantilism? For the Guilds inspiration? Hell, you don't even have that, you need 2 markets and I don't think Demotic's Commercial Hub has one yet. That's a ton of production to spend for very little benefit other than the GPT. I feel like an Industrial Zone or Encampment would have been the better investment here.

my exploring caravels near Japanese waters, and I'm starting to wonder if I might not body-block some English cities with them:




I need an alliance with Archduke to do that, though, or just open borders. I might offer next turn and see what he says - then I can slow down and muck with Phoenicia's conquest. That'll drive the raiders nuts but what the fuck can they do about it? We're locked into peace for 25 turns anyway, they gonna send ships to bodyblock China? The island is my main conquest goal (that and neutering Team Sandbox), I really won't be that bothered. 

East:




Finally have the Man at Arms in place to force a landing and a city. 

Center:




More ships entering the slipways. Might go full Workshops for Industrialization before going back to ships in those two cities - the sooner started, the sooner paid for. 

West:




Actually have some decent shipyards here.

[Chevalier Mal Fet]

I played Sunday's turn at 6:30 so that hopefully we'd get the day's turn in anyway. 

No turn yesterday or today.