Whose General Is This?

March 9, 7:20 in the morning.

An indescribable smell hung in the drafting room on the third floor of the Treasury Building.

It was the scent of coffee, tobacco, and sweat, mingled after several consecutive days without sleep or rest.

Documents were piled across the tables, crumpled draft pages littered the floor, and cigarette butts formed little mountains in the ashtrays.

Ballantine's hands were trembling.

Not from nerves, but because he had been working for more than forty hours straight.

At that moment, he was clutching a document tightly in his hands.

The title on its cover read: Emergency Banking Act, Final Draft.

Ballantine rushed out of the conference room and headed straight for Roosevelt's temporary office on the second floor.

The room had originally been the Treasury Secretary's lounge, but these past few days it had been requisitioned as the President's temporary command center.

Roosevelt, William, and Feilan were discussing something inside.

"Mr. President..."

The door was flung open.

Ballantine staggered in, holding the document in both hands. "The final draft is complete!"

Roosevelt swiftly turned, reached out for the document, and opened to the first page.

He read quickly. About twenty minutes later, he closed it and handed it to Feilan. "See if there are any problems."

Feilan took it and began to look it over.

About twenty minutes later, he nodded and passed it to William beside him.

William took it, skimmed through it, then looked up. "No problems. Have someone print the copies immediately..."

"Wait."

Roosevelt suddenly cut in. "The copies can be printed at the same time, but the procedure cannot wait. Send this original to the House of Representatives first and get the process started."

William froze for a second, then immediately understood. "Understood."

He turned to Ballantine. "Let Stigler's office know the bill is on its way. They can prepare the motion."

One o'clock in the afternoon.

Washington, United States Capitol, House of Representatives chamber.

Henry Stigler, Democratic Party Representative from Alabama and chairman of the House Committee on Banking and Currency, stood before the podium with the final draft that had just been delivered in his hands.

Below him, all 435 Representatives sat scattered sparsely through the chamber.

Many looked exhausted. Some were still rubbing their temples.

Over this period, the banking crisis had thrown the whole country into chaos, leaving every legislator buried beneath an enormous workload.

Stigler cleared his throat. "Colleagues, I am now submitting an emergency bill to the House of Representatives. Due to the urgency of the situation, printed copies of the bill have not yet been completed. I will personally read the full text aloud to each and every one of you."

A murmur rose through the chamber.

Ordinarily, when a bill was submitted, every legislator would have a printed copy in hand. They could read along as they listened, mark key points, and hunt for loopholes.

But now, there was nothing.

Only Stigler's voice.

He began to read.

"Article One formally authorizes the President to declare a nationwide Bank Holiday..."

"...the Treasury Department shall have the authority to classify and evaluate banks nationwide..."

"...for banks accepting government capital injections, the Treasury Department shall have the authority to obtain seats on the board of directors and exercise oversight over major operational decisions..."

His voice echoed through the chamber.

As they listened, some legislators furrowed their brows, some blinked in confusion, and some simply gave up trying to understand.

No one fully understood it.

But no one raised a hand to ask questions.

Stigler read the final word, closed the document, and looked up. "Colleagues, I now request that the House vote on this bill."

The chamber fell quiet for several seconds.

Then someone stood up.

"For!"

"For!"

"For!"

A second voice, then a third, then a fourth...

There was no committee review, no discussion of amendments, no clause-by-clause debate. Most legislators had not even fully understood what the bill said.

Yet the bill passed in only forty minutes.

And it passed unanimously.

Because everyone knew one thing.

Banks across the nation had been closed for more than a week.

The payment system stood on the verge of collapse, commercial activity had nearly ground to a halt, and countless families were going hungry.

If they did not do something now, the country was finished.

At 3:20 in the afternoon, the bill arrived at the Senate.

This time, the legislators finally had printed copies in their hands.

The bill had been bound into neat little booklets and distributed to every Senator.

Ninety-six Senators lowered their heads and read.

The chamber was so quiet that the rustle of turning pages could be heard.

When they reached Chapter Four, Article Seven, some looked up with furrowed brows, some spoke softly with the Senators beside them, and some drew question marks in the margins.

But most merely read in silence.

Until one man stood up.

"Colleagues, I believe this bill does not go far enough!"

Burton Wheeler, Democratic Party Senator from Montana and a leading figure of the left-wing progressives, held the bill aloft in his hand. His voice boomed as though he were issuing a declaration of war.

Low gasps sounded through the chamber.

Burton waved the bill and continued passionately. "Government capital injections, board seats, oversight of bank operations—those are all right. But why stop there?"

"The banking system has already collapsed! Those damned bankers have ruined the country! Why not nationalize the banks outright?!"

An uproar.

A complete uproar.

Some shouted that it was absurd, some slammed their desks, and some rose to argue, only to be pulled back by those beside them.

Several left-wing Senators stood as well, echoing Burton's proposal.

"Burton is right! If we are going to save them, why not save them completely?"

"The bankers have already proven they are unfit to manage this country!"

"Nationalization! Nationalize them outright!"

The chamber descended into chaos.

If William, Ballantine, or the others had been present, they would surely have been dumbfounded.

In their eyes, Feilan's draft had already been radical enough.

The government would enter the boardroom and oversee decision-making.

And now someone actually thought it was not radical enough and wanted to nationalize the banks outright?

Whose general was this?

But Burton's radical proposal did not last long.

A deep voice suppressed all the clamor.

"Enough."

Everyone fell silent.

The speaker was Joseph Robinson, Senate Majority Leader and Democratic Party Senator from Arkansas.

He rose to his feet, his stern gaze sweeping over the left-wing Senators. "Burton, perhaps your proposal has merit. But is this the time to argue about it?"

"The banks have been shut down for more than a week. The economic lifeblood of the entire nation is rotting away. Every minute we delay means more businesses going bankrupt, more workers losing their jobs, and more families going hungry!"

"What we need to do now is get the banks open first, restore the payment system first, and let this country catch its breath first!"

He raised the bill in his hand. "This bill is not the final answer, but it is the only medicine that can save lives right now. If you want to debate nationalization, wait until the banks have reopened, wait until the country has survived, and then you can debate it to your hearts' content!"