Chapter 315: Your Ideas Are Outdated!
As Fred’s son, big T never expected Rusk to give them any explanation.
The reason he took such action wasn’t for these soldiers at all; he was completely thinking of his own interests.
Having good relations with reporters in the past would come in handy at a time like this.
With the photos taken, plus his own account, such a scandal would be enough to cause a storm in America.
If he were just an ordinary soldier, it definitely wouldn’t work, but he couldn’t be stopped—he was Fred’s son, backed by the entire Elephant Party.
The Elephant Party would help him hype up the news.
Not to mention just a major general—even if General William Westmoreland wasn’t involved, or even if Westmoreland was involved, it couldn’t be suppressed.
Next year was the presidential election, and the interests tied to the White House position weren’t something a general could settle.
And his reputation would skyrocket as a result.
Unafraid of power, daring to speak out, speaking up for the soldiers, exposing the dark curtain, and a frontline combat hero to boot—big T even began fantasizing that after retiring from the military and returning to Washington, he would become America’s youngest congressman.
Perfect timing—his father was running for senator, so he could smoothly take over the New York State congressman position.
Then after serving a few years as congressman, run for senator and become the youngest senator.
Big T was already dreaming, the most beautiful fantasy time had arrived.
The age limit for senator is 30; Joe was elected at 29, and he waited until after his 30th birthday to take office as senator.
Big T was only 21 at this point; running for senator wasn’t realistic.
At the NCO Club scene, after organizing his thoughts, Westmoreland said: “Everyone, rest assured, we will definitely investigate thoroughly and give you all an explanation. The latest slot machines will arrive within a week, and they will be publicly unpacked and inspected by you all first. They will only be put into use after inspection confirms no issues.
At the same time, we will inspect all slot machines operated in the Vietnam army bases to ensure no problems.”
There was nothing wrong with Westmoreland’s statement.
But big T felt it wasn’t enough: “General Westmoreland, the money we spent on these cheating slot machines in the past was all swindled from us; that money needs to be returned to us!
You all agree, right?”
Big T looked around, asking the NCOs.
If big T hadn’t led the way, they really wouldn’t have dared to speak up.
But big T had spoken, and everyone on the frontline truly lived day by day, not knowing when they might be taken out by a sniper from the jungle, so they had no such reservations.
Everyone followed big T and shouted: “Right!”
“Refund the money!” big T shouted next.
All the NCOs shouted in unison: “Refund the money!”
Rusk said: “Everyone, rest assured, the money will definitely be refunded to you all!”
After the delegation led by Rusk left, big T was tossed into the air by the crowd of NCOs. At this moment, he was truly one of their own—anyone who could fight for their interests was one of their own.
Getting the slot machine money refunded was like having played for free in the past, gaining extra savings out of thin air.
Who wouldn’t like that?
A week later, at the end of October 1967, the New York Post front page published explosive news: “Vietnam War Frontline Dark Curtain: Slot Machines Swindle Soldiers’ Hard-Earned Money.”
The article centered on big T’s account, paired with photos taken by frontline reporters, detailing how the NCO Club slot machines had been tampered with to lower winning probabilities and cheat soldiers out of their salaries.
The article named Sergeant Major Wooldridge and the mysterious supplier, hinting that military high-level officials might be aware.
The content included how Sergeant Major Wooldridge’s friend’s machines had been rigged to swindle soldiers’ hard-earned money; how he exposed the truth through probability analysis, forcing General Westmoreland and Rusk to promise refunds.
Before this report was published, Jenny, as the New York Times editor-in-chief, called Lin Ran to ask, since he was mentioned inside—big T claimed his probability theory knowledge was learned from the professor, and the reporters emphasized this.
After hearing this, Lin Ran thought, as expected of big T, able to pull off such a world-class stunt in any spacetime.
Lin Ran naturally wanted to watch the fun too; he was curious how far big T, with these buffs, could go in this spacetime.
Once the newspaper came out, New York street newsstands were cleared out.
Other media quickly followed up.
The Washington Post published a commentary article “Another Plunder of the Vietnam War.”
Time Magazine used the title “Unjust Gains in the Barracks” to deeply excavate corruption in the military logistics system.
During TV news broadcasts, the host said gravely: “On the Vietnam War frontline, soldiers not only face enemy bullets but also traps set by their own people.”
American public opinion exploded.
At this time, anti-war sentiment was spreading, with protest activities in university campuses in full swing.
Anti-war groups seized the opportunity, organizing marches in New York and Washington, holding high signs: “Stop War Corruption! Give Justice to Soldiers!”
Ordinary public were furious too; the veterans association wrote to the White House demanding a thorough investigation of military corruption. For a time, besides the event itself, big T’s name also became a household symbol, representing courage and justice.
Meanwhile, the Elephant Party smelled an opportunity.
Lyndon Johnson’s Donkey Party government was trapped in a public opinion low due to the Vietnam War; Elephant Party leaders quickly acted to amplify the scandal’s impact.
Senator Barry Goldwater publicly praised big T in a speech: “This young man has shown true American spirit, daring to challenge authority and protect our soldiers! Worthy of being the son of one of our Elephant Party congressmen!”
The emphasis was on Elephant Party congressman.
Honestly, at this point, Barry was a bit envious of Fred for having such a good son, perfectly poised to take up his mantle without issue.
Elephant Party big shots personally called Fred, hinting that the Elephant Party would support big T’s political career in the future, saying after big T retired from the frontline, they could arrange for him to be an assistant to a veteran senator.
This was also the standard process for many congressmen with background.
Fred sat in his Brooklyn mansion, flipping through the newspapers, nodding satisfiedly—indeed, sending big T to the frontline was the right move. With the two of them, becoming a political family was no problem.
He called the Elephant Party internal PR team: “Hype this up even more; big T is our future star.”
In Washington, Major General Turner’s office had an exceptionally serious atmosphere.
Because the matter had already spread to Turner.
After the scandal exposure, pressure from Washington surged like tides; the Joint Chiefs of Staff demanded he submit a report explaining why base slot machines were suspected of fraud.
Turner slammed the table, face flushed red: “This big T! A snot-nosed corporal dares to ruin my good thing!”
Sergeant Major Wooldridge was at this time hiding in an officer dorm in Saigon, anxious like an ant on a hot pan.
He cursed at the mirror: “Big T, you little bastard, you’ve ruined my cash flow!”
Wooldridge wasn’t one to go down easy.
He quickly contacted his subordinates, trying to destroy evidence of slot machines at other bases, while sending people to spread rumors that big T fabricated the story for fame.
But these tricks had little effect; the media wouldn’t let go, and public anger couldn’t be quelled.
He even considered secretly threatening big T, but after learning the other had Elephant Party backing, he had to drop it.
“Just wait,” Wooldridge gritted his teeth, “this kid will fall flat sooner or later.”
Turner took a more cautious strategy.
He submitted a report to General Westmoreland, admitting “some slot machines had technical issues,” but insisted he was unaware, pushing responsibility to the supplier.
He cooperated with the investigation on the surface, but privately cursed big T: “Don’t let me find an opportunity, or I’ll make sure you can’t eat and walk away!”
Meanwhile, big T became a true star on the Vietnam War frontline.
The NCOs cheered for him; the refunded gambling money made everyone ecstatic.
“T, you did a big thing! We played for free all that time, and now the money’s back!”
“Aren’t you supposed to run for president now?”
Facing this adoration, big T grinned and half-jokingly said: “President? Too far off; I’ll be a congressman first.”
But in his heart, he was calculating: this scandal made him famous; after returning home, he could absolutely ride the momentum to takeoff.
Father’s resources, Elephant Party support, plus media adoration—he seemed to see the Capitol Building in Washington beckoning him.
The scandal’s aftershocks continued to ferment.
Under pressure, the military comprehensively cleared Vietnam base entertainment facilities; dozens of slot machines were replaced, several suppliers prosecuted.
Major General Turner, though not directly punished, had slim hopes for promotion.
Wooldridge’s kickback network was severely damaged; the congressional investigation fully exposed him, making him the scandal’s scapegoat.
Big T’s reputation, however, shot up like a rocket; Elephant Party media called him “the soldiers’ defender.” Anti-war groups, though not fully trusting his motives, admitted his exposure pushed military reform.
Of course, it wasn’t all benefits—that was, he was sent back to American soil for rest and recuperation on grounds of injury, no longer continuing on the frontline.
At this point, Lyndon Johnson didn’t dare actually have him killed.
America’s current state wasn’t yet at the level of 60 years later, not to the point of killing a competitor’s son.
Back in New York, big T met Fred at their villa.
Fred said: “Son, let me tell you good news—I arranged for you a position as Morton’s personal assistant; you can go straight to work in Washington. This is a big shot!”
Morton was a true big shot, Elephant Party senator from Kentucky, serving on multiple important committees, including the most critical Senate Appropriations Committee.
Morton first served three terms as congressman, then during Eisenhower’s term served as assistant secretary of state, followed by senator.
He himself was a senator; his brother Rogers Morton was a congressman from Maryland.
Solid political family.
“He’s about to retire, with deep connections and influence in the Elephant Party internal circles. Morton appreciates you; after I talked to him, he agreed to groom you well.
If you can inherit Morton’s mantle, running for congressman in 1970 will be no worry!
You could aim for a congressman seat in his Kentucky, or return to New York to take my position.”
Fred’s thinking was: if he himself didn’t win senator, then his son would run in Kentucky; if he won senator, the New York State congressman position would be left for his son.
Perfect design.
In the past, he hoped to be like the Hearst family, producing two consecutive congressmen.
Now, though, Fred’s ambitions went beyond that.
He hoped the family would have two congressmen at the same time, or even presidents.
Father-son presidents, like the Adams family.
But he didn’t expect big T to flatly refuse: “Sorry, father, haven’t you realized the environment has changed?
After the live television broadcast era arrives, past political legacies become less effective if you want to be president.
Becoming a media mogul is the most effective method.
I’ve already arranged with Columbia Television to start as a political talk show host, then directly run for congressman in 1970.
Then senator, and finally president!
Our T family will also acquire television stations, newspapers, radio, etc. We’ll not only be real estate moguls but also media industry moguls!”
Big T stood up, strode to the living room mirror, and said confidently to his reflection: “T.T., future congressman, future senator, and future president!”
Fred was furious—you kid want to run in 1970? If I don’t win, father and son on the congressional stage turns into father and son competing.
Reputation turns into comedy?
“Then let me ask you, what if in 1970 I also run for New York State congressman?”
Big T replied without thinking: “Didn’t I tell you we’re building the T family media empire?
If you lose then, you go build the media empire; if I lose, I go.
Whoever loses goes.
Father, you must understand, in today’s America, the power of two congressmen absolutely can’t match one congressman plus a media empire.
Why does the professor have such power in America, even making Johnson yield three points?
The professor’s own abilities and Johnson’s incompetence is one aspect; his backing by the Hearst family and New York Times is another.”
This time Fred finally understood Nixon’s mindset—nurturing a competitor yourself; who could stand it?
Fred roared: “If you don’t do as I say, then get out!”
Big T said indifferently: “Fine, I’ll go—Columbia Television is offering me a decent salary.
And my first episode is interviewing the godfather returning to New York.
This show will definitely explode in popularity.
Anyway, you can prepare for defeat in advance.
Of course, if you win president next year, that’s another story.
Oh, right, one more reminder—maybe when you run for president next year, you’ll need to come on my talk show.
I suggest you keep a friendly attitude toward me, so you won’t feel awkward begging me next year.”
After big T finished, he packed his bags and left.
Fred’s face turned beet red, fuming, wishing he never had this son big T.
