I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 190

Chapter 190: Test Firing

The test firing took place at the base’s shooting range.

It was quite open and spacious, about a thousand meters long, far exceeding the maximum range of the mortar, which was 700 meters.

To better simulate actual combat, the instructor had a trench dug 600 meters ahead.

Dominic ordered the officers to fire at the trench as the target.

Of course, no one was inside the trench to act as a target!

At this moment, the artillery officers played a crucial role. They knew they needed to stabilize the barrel to maintain a horizontal level, then calculate the firing parameters based on the shell’s initial velocity and the distance to the target, and adjust the angle accordingly.

This saved the instructors a lot of trouble; they only needed to occasionally remind the officers of any new issues to pay attention to.

In fact, mortars didn’t always require such attention. On the battlefield, after using them for a while, soldiers often relied on their instincts. They would fire and run without worrying about whether they hit the target, sometimes even firing without setting up the mortar properly and simply holding it by hand.

Dominic shouted repeatedly, emphasizing: "Gentlemen, if the shell does not fire, do not attempt to unload it! Lie down and move away from it! Please make sure to remember this!"

At this point, mortars had just been invented, and the shells were not yet fully reliable. Sometimes the primer would fail to ignite due to moisture.

If one tried to unload the shell, the result would be an explosion that could send both the person and the mortar flying into the air.

"Boom, boom, boom!"

A row of shells exited the barrels and exploded near the trench.

Some officers observed the impact points and shouted to Charles, who was standing aside watching, "Major, the accuracy doesn’t seem that great!"

It seemed they preferred to speak with Charles rather than the instructors.

Before Charles could respond, one of the artillery officers quickly replied, "The key is that it can fire 25 rounds per minute, Bertrand!"

Other officers smiled knowingly.

Bertrand understood the implication of the statement. If the accuracy wasn’t good, they would rely on volume. With 25 rounds fired per minute, whether by shell fragments or sheer luck, after a minute, the target would most likely be eliminated.

Once he grasped this, he shouted to Charles, "Major, can we try? 25 rounds per minute!"

The instructors only handed out one shell to each officer, and once it was fired, there would be no more.

"No, Colonel!" Charles responded loudly. "This is what you’ll be learning for the next week. It’s not as simple as you think. I don’t want anyone here to 'graduate early'!"

The officers chuckled, understanding what 'graduating early' meant.

But Bertrand was still unconvinced. He looked at the mortar and asked with confusion, "Major, what danger could there be? We only need to load the shell into the barrel!"

"Are you sure your shell has been fired?" Charles retorted, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Did you hear the gunshot? If you mistakenly thought it was someone else’s shot and assumed it had fired, what will you do next?"

The officers paused for a moment, and soon one of them responded, "He’ll load another shell into the barrel, and then... 'graduate early'!"

This time, the officers didn’t laugh. They all wore serious expressions, including Colonel Christine.

None of them had thought of this issue, and now they finally understood the purpose of the training.

If these mortars were distributed directly to soldiers with the instruction that they could fire 25 rounds per minute, it could lead to a series of accidents more terrifying than those caused by hand grenades.

Dominic unexpectedly looked at Charles, leaned over, and whispered, "You’re right, Major. I was just about to warn them about this danger. How did you figure it out just by imagining it?"

"Yes!" Charles nodded.

In fact, this was one of the safety precautions for operating modern mortars. On the battlefield or during training, there had been cases where, due to nervousness or other factors, multiple shells were loaded into the barrel. This even led to a specific term in modern military parlance: "repeat loading."

"Excellent lesson, Major!" Dominic glanced at the officers, who were savoring the lesson in the light rain, and said with admiration, "You successfully captured their interest and showed them the importance of mortars with just a few words. I never imagined the explanation could be so effective!"

Charles answered calmly, "It’s not difficult, Colonel. You just need to know what your 'students' care about and what interests them most."

Dominic nodded thoughtfully, responding, "What they care about most is the battlefield, the life and death of themselves and their subordinates. What they’re most interested in is equipment that can help them survive. That’s where you focused your explanation!"

Charles nodded. This instructor had a good understanding, and it seemed he would make a great teacher.

...

Back at the headquarters, Charles immediately reported to Gallieni, "The training went very well, General. The officers all agree that the frontline troops need this equipment!"

Charles handed Gallieni a staffing table and a price quote. "Given the current situation, I believe each battalion might need 6 mortars."

This was the standard practice for modern troops, where a mortar company was set up at the battalion level.

In actual combat, if a certain company was designated as the main attack force, the battalion commander could allocate several mortars to bolster its firepower.

Gallieni grunted, having no objections, primarily because he saw that the unit price of these mortars wasn’t expensive—700 francs per piece, and 6 pieces would cost only 4200 francs.

Gallieni casually asked, "Do all the units need them?"

"You could do a follow-up with the officers," Charles confidently replied. "Or buy a small quantity first, let one of the divisions test them, and then consider equipping other units."

"Good idea!" Gallieni agreed with the second suggestion. "Then equip one division first!"

Charles seemed to have already anticipated this response and replied decisively, "72 mortars. If the regimental headquarters also needs reinforcement, I recommend 96 mortars, plus a few extras for backup—100 mortars in total!"

(Note: The structure of the French army during World War I consisted of one division made up of two brigades, each with four regiments, and each regiment contained three battalions. So, a division had 12 infantry battalions.)

"100 mortars!" Gallieni nodded. It was only 70,000 francs, which wasn’t much for the military.

Charles watched Gallieni as he was about to sign and smiled lightly. This old man was about to be duped. The real key was the cost of the shells—20 francs per shell!

Unexpectedly, Gallieni’s pen suddenly stopped mid-air, hovering for a long time before slowly dropping. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, "I heard this mortar can fire 25 rounds per minute? You compared it to a type of long-range grenade?"

Charles thought to himself, this old man had learned from past mistakes.

Sure enough, Gallieni opened the price list again, pointed to the price of the shells, and said, "Then, shouldn’t the price of these shells be reduced a bit?"

Charles looked embarrassed. "General, it can’t be lowered any further. If you’re not satisfied, you can ask others and compare the prices..."

The underlying message was clear: Only I can produce this mortar, and this is the price. If you don’t want it, fine.

Gallieni raised an eyebrow. "Hand grenades only cost 1.5 francs each, and this mortar, which you’ve compared to a long-range grenade, should cost about 3 francs, right?"

Charles was stunned. Could it really be priced like that?

Charles retorted, "So, should we make hand grenades free for soldiers to throw, and mortars should be free too?"

Gallieni nodded seriously, "Great idea. Seems very reasonable!"

He said this without the slightest embarrassment.

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