The Rise Of A Billionaire 1943

May. Washington had already entered summer, and this year, summer seemed to have arrived a bit early.

Despite the stifling weather and the lack of air conditioning in the car, Pierre still spent most of his time on the road every day—on one hand, coordinating with the military to establish a task force to pave the way for receiving captured weapons, and on the other, negotiating with U.S. government agencies about Lend-Lease supplies. In short, there was never a moment's rest.

Bureaucracy in America could be just as deadly—after half a month of running around, he finally managed to get all the paperwork in order.

As for the gains, besides the promised lease of 50 Liberty ships, the biggest achievement was that Ke Zhenhua Company could now enter the war zone as military personnel—as members of the Allied Command Task Force.

This was the most important thing. With this status, the entire European theater would be open to him. He could freely enter any battlefield and collect weapons captured by the Allies!

And most crucially—the privilege of entering various battlefields. That was the real prize!

After that, things became much simpler. The military assigned a few liaison officers to the company. After some brief preparations, just before June, a group of several dozen people boarded a seaplane and flew directly to North Africa.

...

Tunis.

The sun hung high in the sky, blazing down.

The stones were scorching hot from the sun.

Gravel and pebbles covered the ground, and the wild grass growing between the rocks swayed gently in the wind.

"Sit, Shampoo."

Pierre called out to the military dog beside him. This shepherd had been picked up in Tunisia and was probably a German army dog—it only understood German commands.

Upon hearing the order, Shampoo sat down on the sand, as still as a statue, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Ahead, on the sandy ground, rows of cars, tanks, and cannons "lay" there—these were all weapons captured by the U.S. Army. Piles of guns, not even crated, were simply stacked in heaps, exposed to the open air.

These spoils of war were enough to arm hundreds of thousands of troops. But the Americans, flush with resources, had no need to use German equipment, nor did the British. In fact, industrialized nations generally would not use captured weapons to arm their troops—after all, the ammunition wasn't compatible.

But Germany was an exception. They made extensive use of captured weapons. Among the piles of spoils were Soviet-made F-22 field guns used by the Afrika Korps, re-designated by the Germans as the 7.62cm FK 296(r).

Tens of thousands of weapons were scattered about.

This was a treasure trove!

1,861 P08 pistols

2,145 P38 pistols

197,856 K98K rifles

7,521 MP38/40 submachine guns

1,542 ZB26/30 light machine guns

5,674 MG34 machine guns

...

Staring at the thick inventory list in his hands.

The numbers listed the materials very clearly. Although the list was detailed, it was hard to say how many of these items were still in good condition—they would have to be checked one by one.

To get this task done as quickly as possible,

Pierre had to arrange, through the military, for several hundred German POWs to help process the weapons.

"Sir, when will the crates be delivered?"

Once again...

Major Heinrich asked.

"We have already repaired and reassembled 32,712 rifles, but right now they're all exposed directly under the sun. If we want to transport them, we'll need crates."

As a logistics officer in the German army, Heinrich had spent the past couple of weeks leading his men in repairing weapons and equipment—in reality, just reassembling damaged weapons. It was a simple task, since the parts were interchangeable, and they had even managed to repair a few artillery pieces.

He and his men cherished this work immensely. Compared to life in a POW camp, this place was practically paradise. Not only was there a variety of food, but they even received some pay. Aside from lacking freedom, they had everything they could want—and there were even some local girls around.

"It won't be long now. I've already ordered crates from Italy; they'll be delivered soon."

In North Africa, there's nothing but sand and sheep—literally nothing else. Even something as basic as wooden crates had to be imported from Italy. The backwardness was almost unbelievable.

"By the way, Major, is there anything you need?"

As the boss, Pierre knew exactly how to motivate these people.

"Boss, if possible, we'd like to have some butter. Ever since we arrived in Africa, we haven't had any butter. It melts too easily here, so we've only had olive oil. I heard the Americans have refrigerators, and they can keep butter in them."

Afraid of being refused, Heinrich emphasized again,

"If it's convenient, sir. After all, you've already taken very good care of us."

At some point, just having enough to eat every day had become a form of "care" for these Germans. They weren't fools!

It was simply that, as prisoners, they never dared imagine such a life—good food, coffee, and even cigarettes. Each of them received five cigarettes a day, and if they exceeded their work targets, they'd get a few more as a bonus. Sometimes there were even extra rewards—like ice-cold Coca-Cola.

"No problem, but you'll probably have to wait a bit. Butter will have to be bought from Italy."

Pierre never hesitated to reward his workers with material goods. These few hundred people—nominally prisoners—were actually his repair team. If all went according to plan, once the Allies landed in Normandy, they would go to France as well to help repair damaged equipment. But the real manpower was still on the way.

Before leaving the United States, Pierre had gone to see his uncle and asked him directly for 5,000 people.

What were these people for?

After the Allies liberated France, they would collect and repair weapons behind the lines, and those weapons would be shipped back home.

Of course, "collecting and repairing weapons" was just the official reason. In reality, these people would become his first armed force.

The key point was, someone else was footing the bill—the Americans would pay him for collecting and transporting the weapons, including the labor costs.

Basically, the U.S. was helping him raise this army. Once they arrived in North Africa, they'd need basic military training, since they'd be heading into the war zone.

Five thousand people!

A full five thousand!

And all of them were young people with at least a high school education, some even college students. The thought that these people would soon be his employees made the corners of Pierre's mouth curl up in a smile.

Overjoyed, he turned to the "Shampoo Guy" squatting next to him and said,

"Come on, Shampoo Guy, let's go for a walk…"

Of course, "going for a walk" meant wandering among that pile of "scrap metal"—over a hundred Panzer III and Panzer IV tanks. What the Americans saw as worthless junk would become deadly weapons once shipped home!

Suddenly, among those steel beasts, a uniquely shaped car caught his eye, making him light up.

"There's actually a Kübelwagen here."

Delighted, he hurried over with quick steps.