I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 232

Chapter 232: Christmas is Coming

The problematic designs were naturally left for the competition.

Steed’s approach was simple.

There were always designers in the factory who, relying on their knowledge of many confidential matters at the Saint-Étienne Armaments Factory, believed that Steed wouldn’t dare fire them. Indeed, Steed had such concerns himself, often turning a blind eye to their violations and laziness, which only made them bolder and more reckless.

Now, Steed felt it was the right moment to rectify the situation.

Of course, before firing them, Steed would first have them sign confidentiality agreements and perhaps even include clauses about penalties in case of leaks. He would make these designers believe that the information they held was valuable.

The design plans for the Chauchat machine gun would eventually fall into the hands of the Piteau Armaments Factory—this was certain.

But that was exactly what Steed wanted.

He could even imagine the joy at the Piteau Armaments Factory when they saw the design for the machine gun.

Lacking design experience and talent, they might be busy collecting machine guns from around the world to study and then try to create their own version.

Suddenly, a well-developed machine gun design would be placed before them, and they would no doubt be overjoyed. They would rush to register the industrial rights, then quickly purchase machines to start mass production, eager to outpace the Saint-Étienne Armaments Factory.

What they didn’t know was that they were not on the same level as Saint-Étienne. The purpose of their machine guns would be solely to be trampled underfoot by Saint-Étienne and serve as a backdrop for the victor’s triumph.

Steed was quite satisfied with this scenario and it strengthened his resolve: supporting Charles’ choice was the right decision. No one could defeat Charles, whether on the battlefield or in equipment design. After all, he was the one who understood war the best, and he had a natural talent for it.

Before leaving, Charles had given Steed some advice: “It’s time to develop a new bullet, Steed. Only then will you have a chance of reclaiming the rifle market!”

Steed suddenly came to a realization.

Charles was right. Everything stemmed from the bullet: the Lebel magazine was due to the bullet, the Berthier only held three rounds because of the bullet, and the Chauchat machine gun had to be designed with a curved magazine because of the bullet.

All the design flaws were caused by the excessively large bullet taper, so why not address the root cause?

Steed gripped Charles’ hand tightly and said excitedly, “Thank you so much, Colonel! I know what to do now.”

He really did know what to do. It was simple: just replicate the bullet used in the German Mauser rifle. During wartime, what could the Mauser company do? Besides, the Germans were also copying the Saint-Étienne grenades and mortars!

Steed wanted to say a few flattering words: “You are our direction, our future, Colonel!” “With you, we are invincible!”

But he thought that this might not be appropriate for his age, so he ended up keeping these compliments and excitement in his eyes instead.

...

Charles received three days of leave, the first time since joining the army.

The leave was approved by Gallieni, who smiled as he wished Charles, “Merry Christmas!”

Charles was taken aback and only then realized that Christmas had arrived for the Europeans.

“Merry Christmas!” Charles replied.

The feeling was a bit strange. As a time traveler, Charles was more accustomed to celebrating the Chinese New Year, but it was not so here.

...

On the return journey to Davaus, Charles curiously gazed at the snowflakes falling outside the car window.

Before this, he had always thought that hexagonal snowflakes only appeared in fairy tale comic books, believing they were just for beautification. Now, he realized they existed in reality, falling right before his eyes.

“Charles!”

As Charles wondered how they formed, he heard someone calling his name from a distance.

Turning his head, he saw a group of boys playing and chasing under the plane trees by the roadside.

They had been tossing snowballs, but when they saw Charles’ car, they stopped and waved at him, beckoning him to join.

Charles recognized them as his classmates, including Teddy, and hurriedly waved back. “Hello!”

Laurent gently turned to ask, “Should we stop, Colonel?”

Charles hesitated for a moment and replied, “No, Major, I have other matters to attend to.”

In fact, Charles had plenty of time and would love to join them, but he felt that he couldn’t quite fit in with this carefree group, even though they were around his age.

As for those former classmates, if Charles really joined them, it would only make them feel awkward.

Charles could even imagine the strange scene: none of the snowballs would hit him, and his classmates would all act cautiously, occasionally glancing at the revolver at his waist, while Major Laurent stood by, watching everything.

So, it was better to keep his distance!

...

The car slowly stopped in front of Djoka’s small house. Djoka and Camille were inside decorating the Christmas tree and came out to greet Charles when they saw his car.

“Merry Christmas!” Camille opened his arms and gave Charles a hug, a proud and happy smile on his face.

Djoka called out to Laurent, “Would you like a glass of wine, Major? Come in and warm up?”

“No, Mr. Djoka!” Laurent politely declined. “I should go to the factory. Those rascals never let me rest!”

Djoka didn’t insist and waved to Laurent as he turned the car around, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Major Laurent responded.

Djoka added, “Tell them I’ll leave the Christmas gifts at the security office. Everyone gets one!”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Djoka!” Laurent replied as he turned back.

As the car sped up, Major Laurent thought to himself that they were all good people, compassionate capitalists, and that French capitalists should be like them.

This was Djoka’s strength: he was someone who knew how to treat those around him well—his guards, neighbors, and employees.

If this trait were present in small capitalists, it would be a disaster. Small capitalists couldn’t afford to treat others well, and they would soon go bankrupt. Then, they would be looked down upon by others, even those they had once been kind to.

But Charles was no longer a small capitalist. His assets had grown rapidly to over 20 million francs in just three months.

Motorcycles, tractors, tanks, grenades, airplanes...

This didn’t even include the deposit for the “Charles A1” tank and the $43.8275 million in authorized production fees from the U.S. military.

The former was because the French military had no money and hoped Charles’ tractor factory could “deliver first and pay later.”

The latter was because the U.S. military needed to go through the process, and this payment would likely be credited within the next few days.

Selling weapons, especially ones that could win battles, brought wealth at an unimaginable speed, and that speed was only increasing.

With such an economic base, Charles needed a steward like Djoka: spending a little money and giving others small favors to earn a good reputation—why not do it?

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