North America 1849, from Gold Rush to Warlord

Chapter 134: A Reshuffle!

"This is absolutely dishonorable, even immoral, despicable behavior?"

"Heh...!" Major Campbell sneered, "In my opinion, this is not only devoid of honor and morality, but also an outright crime?"

"A crime?" Major Brown asked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Campbell sat up from his folding cot: "Brown, you know that California hasn't officially joined the Union yet, right?"

"This...of course I know!"

"Since California has not officially joined the United States, what legal basis does our U.S. military have to arrest so-called 'criminals' on this land?"

Faced with Major Campbell's question, Major Brown remained silent!

Major Campbell continued, "And we have no evidence whatsoever. Just because the general says there are 'criminals' in those villages, we can launch a military operation?"

"This...!" Major Brown suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

Major Campbell, as a staff officer at headquarters, undoubtedly had better access to intelligence: "Brown, you know that California recently passed the Alien Worker Affirmative Action Act, right?"

Brown shook his head. He had never heard of this before. As a cavalry major, he wouldn't pay attention to news that was irrelevant to his field.

"The Alien Workers Affirmative Action Act essentially grants all Chinese workers the same rights as California citizens."

"If we follow the general's orders to kill all rebels on sight and arrest everyone, then... those we kill and arrest won't be Chinese, but legitimate California citizens!"

"Tsk tsk tsk...!" Campbell clicked his tongue. "That's over eight thousand California citizens! How many people are there in all of California right now?"

"If this gets out of hand and gets exposed, we'll all be in deep trouble!"

Upon hearing this, Major Brown broke out in a cold sweat: "Then...why did the general dare to do this?"

"Heh, the general is a core member of the Freemasons. If he dares to do this, he must have someone even more powerful protecting him!"

Brigadier General George Phillips was a core Freemason, a fact that was almost an open secret within the U.S. Army Southwest Command.

Campbell lowered his voice and said, "Brown, do you and I have such a strong backer?"

Major Brown shook his head.

"So, dear Brown, keep your cavalry in check, and don't let them get too much blood on their hands!"

"If we get too deeply involved, we might end up being the ones scapegoated!"

Major Brown snapped out of his daze, quickly grabbed his military cap and stood up: "Campbell, if you hadn't told me, I might really have ended up in a military court!"

"Brown, don't tell anyone, this is just my advice to you privately!"

"Don't worry, Campbell, you didn't tell me anything."

Major Brown put on his military cap, turned around, and hurriedly crawled out of the tent to restrain his cavalrymen.

It wasn't just Majors Brown and Campbell; many people throughout the camp were privately discussing this inexplicable military operation.

Most of them received similar warnings and advice.

All of this, of course, is inseparable from Colonel Wharton's various subtle hints in private.

As the chief of staff of the Southwest Command, Walton wielded actual power second only to Brigadier General George Phillips, and even more power than the deputy commander of the command.

He never explained this theory to anyone, but he always subtly and overtly conveyed this information bit by bit.

No one who can become a mid- to high-ranking military officer is a fool.

Once you connect these bits and pieces of information, a very clear theory becomes very clear!
Everyone, including Major Campbell, felt that this whole explanation was something they had come up with on their own.

No one could have imagined that there was an invisible hand subtly influencing their thoughts.

As a former intelligence officer, Chief of Staff Walton always made sure to absolve himself of all responsibility and would never give anyone any leverage against him.

Within the military camp, besides Chief of Staff Walton's invisible hand, there was also an invisible eye closely watching everything.

As night fell, in an inconspicuous corner of the military camp, Captain Nicholson, disguised as an ordinary cavalryman, lay on his cot, silently pondering all the clues he had discovered.

"That's really interesting. That damned spy, without making a sound or leaving a trace, actually managed to undermine the morale and combat effectiveness of the army!"

"Warned by these words, which of the soldiers and officers would dare to fight and kill with abandon?"

"It seems I underestimated not only that damned Chinaman, but also that damned spy!"

On this night, Nicholson, a regular cavalryman in the 2nd Independent Cavalry Battalion of Arizona, received orders from his superior to fire as few shots as possible, and especially not to injure or kill anyone, or face the consequences!

Nicholson's deep gaze was fixed on the tent top: "Who the hell is that damned spy?"

"The guy's position must be quite high to be able to influence the entire military camp. He's very likely one of the staff officers within the Southwest Command!"

"Could it be Chief of Staff Wharton? Hmm, this guy has an extremely clean background, is a distinguished graduate of West Point, and became a colonel chief of staff at just forty years old. He has a bright future ahead of him. Would he do something that would ruin his future?"

"Could it be Major Campbell? Hmm, that guy is quite suspicious; he's persuaded several officers of colonel rank. But would a cunning spy personally do something like this?"

"It will be...!"

Nicholson reviewed all the mid- to high-ranking officers in the Southwest Command, except for Brigadier General George Phillips, but still found himself completely clueless.

"This is really a headache!"

Nicholson rubbed his temples: "That damned spy has shaken morale. Soldiers and officers alike have lost their will to kill. How can we complete the mission?"

"If we don't let both sides fight each other to the death, we can't provoke their anger and achieve the goal of a full-scale war... Sigh, does that mean we have to take matters into our own hands in the end?"

"Damn it! In the end, I still have to kill someone with my own hands...!"
-
After a full day of rest, the large force of more than 3,800 men finally broke camp again and headed towards the model villages with "insignificant" fighting power.

Meanwhile, in Washington, at the White House!

In the president's bedroom, on a luxurious Rococo-style bed, lay a withered old man lying peacefully.

At his bedside, Cardinal John Hughes, draped in a red robe, personally delivered the old man's final confession.

"Our Lord has forgiven all your sins. Rest in peace, Mr. President Zachary Taylor!"

"call……!"

President Zachary Taylor slowly closed his eyes and then gently exhaled his last breath!

The doctor, who had been staying by the bedside without leaving for a moment, quickly stepped forward, felt the president's pulse on his neck, and then opened the president's eyelids to carefully examine his pupils.

A moment later, the doctor straightened up, faced the anxious gazes of everyone in the bedroom, and finally shook his head heavily and slowly: "It is with great regret that I say that the esteemed President Zachary Taylor has passed away!"

"My dear Zachary...!"

First Lady Margaret, with tears welling in her eyes, knelt by the bedside and tenderly stroked her husband's gradually cooling face.

"Father……!"

President Zachary Taylor had three daughters and one son. His eldest and second daughters died young, and now only his third daughter and his youngest son, Richard Taylor, who is just 24 years old, are by his bedside.

The son and daughter knelt before the president's bedside, weeping bitterly.

Vice President Fillmore, who had also been keeping vigil in the bedroom, suppressed his own emotions, his eyes slightly red, as he comforted the president's family. "Margaret, Zachary has returned to the Lord's embrace; he has found eternal peace. Don't grieve too much!"

First Lady Margaret turned around and gave Vice President Fillmore a perfunctory handshake.

"Richard, you are now the only man in the Taylor family. I hope you will be strong and take good care of your mother and sister...!"

Vice President Fillmore, speaking earnestly, shook hands with Richard Taylor.

“Congratulations, Mr. Vice President!” Richard Taylor did not choose to shake hands with Fillmore, but instead said coldly, “No, I should now call you Mr. President!”

Richard Taylor continued, "Even though you've succeeded in becoming president, you'll never achieve your goal!"

Vice President Fillmore knew perfectly well that the president's only son was a staunch supporter of black slavery!
Vice President Fillmore remained calm and did not engage with Richard Doe. Instead, he shook hands with Cardinal John Hughes and the president's doctor.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Vice President, even though penicillin successfully extended the President's life by more than three months, ultimately...!"

President Zachary Taylor was supposed to die on July 9, 1850.

With the help of penicillin, a miracle drug, President Zachary Taylor's death date was postponed to October 28, 1850!
"I think you've all done your best!"

Vice President Fillmore patted the doctor on the shoulder.

Then, he pushed open the bedroom door and walked out with the doctor, heads held high and chests puffed out.

Outside the president's bedroom door, a huge crowd had gathered!

"Mr. Vice President, Mr. President, he...!"

Vice President Fillmore, his face grim, could only say to the doctor, "You should announce it!"

The doctor adjusted his glasses and said in a somber voice, "It is with great regret that I inform you that President Zachary Taylor has just passed away! The cause of death is...!"

"coax……!"

The crowd outside instantly erupted in chaos, and no one paid any attention to the cause of the president's death anymore.

From this moment on, the highest throne of America has a new master!
This is not only a transfer of power, but also a reshuffling of power.

"Mr. Fillmore, congratulations! From this moment forward, you are the President of the United States!"

"Acting, he's the acting president!"

Surrounded by everyone, Acting President Fillmore arrived at Capitol Hill, went to the Senate, placed his hand on the Bible, and completed the swearing-in ceremony.

Also sworn in was the new Vice President, Abraham Lincoln!
An untimely chorus of boos erupted in the Senate as Lincoln took the oath.

Those were Southern lawmakers who supported slavery, protesting Abraham Lincoln's election as vice president.

However, throughout the Senate, what rang out more enthusiastic applause and cheers!
Supporters of abolitionism still constituted a majority of members of Congress. Therefore, Lincoln's vice-presidential nomination was able to be approved.

Hearing the applause and cheers that erupted in the Senate, drowning out the boos, newly inaugurated President Fillmore finally felt a huge weight lifted from his heart.

It seems that my choice to appoint Lincoln as vice president was the right one!

This young vice president indeed enjoys immense popularity and prestige in parliament.

Only by forming an alliance with him can one consolidate their power base!

President Fillmore knew all too well how Abraham Lincoln’s influence and fame had grown day by day since he took control of five major newspapers!

After all the ceremonies were completed, the newly elected president and vice president finally had time to sit down and have a proper talk.

"Congratulations, Mr. President Fillmore, you have finally reached this point!"

Facing Lincoln, Fillmore dropped the pretense and replied with a smile, "Congratulations to you as well, Mr. Vice President Lincoln!"

President Fillmore continued, "Although I only have three years left in my term, there is still a lot we can accomplish if we work together firmly!"

“For example…!” Vice President Lincoln interjected, “Promoting abolitionism and striking at the Freemasons…!”

"Hehe!" President Fillmore laughed. "Mr. Vice President, you've chosen two of the biggest problems right off the bat."

Lincoln showed no joy at becoming vice president; instead, his voice was heavy: "Without removing these two malignant tumors, America can never become a democratic and free modern nation!"

"Mr. President, did you know that just last month, through the Freemasons' efforts, the Army Southwest Command was relocated from New Mexico to California!"

President Fillmore's smile faded, and he nodded, saying, "Of course I know about this! I also know of your firm opposition, Lincoln. But I'd like to know why the Freemasons would orchestrate this, and why you oppose it?"

Lincoln replied in a deep voice, "California is not even officially part of the United States. What legal basis is there for relocating the Southwest Command to California? This is the main reason why I strongly oppose it!"

"As for the Freemasons, they are naturally eyeing California's massive gold reserves, as well as penicillin!"

Lincoln's face was already long, but now it looked even longer when he pulled it down: "The commander of the Southwest Command, Brigadier General George Phillips, is a core member of the Freemasons. They want to use Brigadier General George Phillips to seize control of gold and penicillin, which represent enormous wealth."

President Fillmore continued, "But their stated reason is that California has recently experienced a series of tragedies, and the situation is getting increasingly out of control, so it is necessary to relocate the Southwest Command there to suppress any possible variables."

“Variables…!” Lincoln sneered. “In my view, anything that is detrimental to the Freemasons is a variable!”

"But what I have seen with my own eyes is that California is now a vibrant place, thriving and prosperous, becoming more and more abundant every day!"

"If we allow George Phillips and the Freemasons he represents to run rampant on California soil, then what we Americans will inherit in the future may be a poor, decadent, and chaotic California."

“Abraham, is it really that serious?” Fillmore asked, frowning.

Lincoln nodded: "California right now has thousands of elite American Army soldiers, yet there is no force that can rival them! I don't need to elaborate on the consequences of unrestrained power, do I? Moreover, California has countless gold reserves, and penicillin, which is even more valuable than gold."

Upon hearing Lincoln's words, President Fillmore's brow furrowed even more deeply: "Abraham, you are right! California is far too far away, and we have absolutely no control over what is happening there right now."

"Abraham, the relocation of the Southwest Command is a done deal, and it should already be in California by now. So what should we do?"

Lincoln thought for a moment: "We can't touch the Southwest Command, but we can easily move the commander!"

"You mean, replace Brigadier General George Phillips?"

“Yes!” Lincoln nodded. “Brigadier General George Phillips must be replaced with a general who is not a Freemason. Otherwise, California will become Freemason territory sooner or later.”

“That’s a good idea!” Fillmore nodded in agreement.

The newly appointed President Fillmore participated in anti-Freemasonry activities when he was young and has no liking for Freemasonry whatsoever.

Lincoln already had a suitable candidate in mind.

"I think Brigadier General Pepper Thomas is a suitable candidate!"

Lincoln continued, "Brigadier General Thomas was a division commander under President Zachary Taylor during the Mexican-American War and participated in the Battle of Monterey, California, so he was quite familiar with California."

"Most importantly, he is not a Freemason."

“Peble Thomas…!” President Fillmore paused for a moment and said, “He’s currently holding a sinecure as Inspector General of Army Reserve Training, is that right?”

“Yes!” Lincoln nodded: “Because he is not a Freemason, he has been sidelined ever since the end of the Mexican-American War.”

“Alright!” Fillmore was also eager to cultivate his own power base in the army, so he said, “Abraham, arrange for him to come and talk to me as soon as possible. If there are no problems, replace that guy George Phillips with him.”

While Lincoln and Fillmore were discussing the selection of the commander of the Southwest Command in Washington, thousands of miles away in California's Central Valley, a battle was already imminent!
(End of this chapter)