I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start

Chapter 636 636: Free Market Bidding

Charles's planned distribution quantity startled Déroka.

"Ten thousand rifles," Charles said calmly, "and we'll provide ammunition long-term as well."

"Ten thousand rifles?" Déroka stared incredulously, finally managing to say after a long pause, "Charles, we're losing about ten dollars per rifle. For ten thousand rifles, that's a loss of about one hundred thousand dollars!"

"It's worth it, Father," Charles responded without hesitation. "And this is only the first batch. Depending on the situation, we might supply even more."

"You're sure?" Déroka swallowed hard.

"Yes, I'm absolutely sure," Charles answered firmly.

Seeing Charles's unwavering determination, Déroka reluctantly drafted a telegram for Joseph, following Charles's instructions precisely.

Charles knew well the current situation in America.

This era in the United States was one dominated by gangsters. Organized crime had reached a scale so extensive, structured, and even semi-militarized that some gangs numbered tens of thousands of members.

In fact, prominent gangsters could even leverage their influence to gain political power. Some were elected as congressmen, openly blending criminal enterprises with political clout. It was only during Roosevelt's presidency that widespread crackdowns began, resulting in the arrest of over five thousand crime bosses.

Now, releasing ten thousand Garand rifles at half-price into the civilian market would inevitably bolster the power of these gangs. In contrast, the U.S. Army was currently composed of only 130,000 soldiers, armed solely with outdated Springfield rifles and lacking automatic weapons entirely.

Charles easily imagined the scenario: once violence escalated, the U.S. military would likely find itself struggling against gangs equipped with superior Garand rifles.

At that moment, would the American government dare refuse to equip its soldiers with the same superior weapons?

Charles could even foresee a scenario where both the government and the gangs might compete in bidding for these rifles.

Isn't this the spirit of free competition?

Don't they advocate respecting market freedom?

Then let the highest bidder win.

Exactly—Charles smiled at this thought. When the time comes, don't blame him if they had to beg on their knees for more weapons.

Reflecting briefly, Charles added, "Also, share some tactical guides for the Garand rifles publicly, such as the tactic of three rifles alternating fire to suppress enemy machine guns, and include basic cooperative fire-and-movement tactics as well."

Déroka listened, baffled.

These were clearly battlefield tactics; sharing them openly in civilian America made no sense to him.

But Charles inwardly cheered on the American mobsters: Alright, godfathers, now it's up to you—don't disappoint me!

Just as Charles and Déroka continued discussing developments for other weapons, the phone rang.

Déroka picked up the receiver, listened briefly, then covered it and turned to Charles, a proud look on his face. "It's from the gate security. Admiral Winter wishes to see you."

Although Déroka had no idea who this Admiral Winter was, security informed him the visitor was a vice admiral in the British Royal Navy.

Good heavens! A British vice admiral had personally come looking for Charles. Had Charles's reputation really reached even the British Navy—the strongest navy in the world?

Déroka assumed Charles would leap up excitedly and hurry out to meet this important visitor. Unexpectedly, Charles merely replied indifferently, "Let him in."

Surprised, Déroka asked cautiously, "You—he's your friend?"

He worried that Charles's response was too cold, potentially offending the admiral. His tone subtly urged Charles to be more courteous.

Charles still appeared unconcerned. "We're not really friends. I just helped him win a few battles. He's undoubtedly here to ask me for another favor."

Déroka nearly fainted hearing this: the mighty British Royal Navy, requesting Charles's help? Had he heard correctly?

But what followed forced Déroka to believe his son's words.

Admiral Winter entered the room with a warm smile, carrying a gift. He warmly shook Déroka's hand as he came in:

"Mr. Déroka, delighted to meet you. I'm Charles's friend. Forgive my intrusion—I brought this small gift as a token of respect."

Déroka took the gift box awkwardly, glanced at Charles—who gave a slight nod—then accepted it.

After Déroka had left, he opened the box and found an exquisite, valuable Swiss pocket watch. However, the value wasn't important. Déroka hardly cared about such trivial sums anymore.

What astonished him was that Charles was mingling casually with such high-ranking figures—people Charles clearly didn't even care much about befriending.

Déroka inwardly marveled at how far beyond his comprehension Charles had grown.

…

Back in the office, Charles made Admiral Winter a cup of coffee and asked bluntly, "Is there something you need?"

"Oh, come on, Charles," Winter responded, smiling warmly. "When did we become this formal?"

"Maybe we should stay formal," Charles replied, leaning back. "As you once said, we each have our own interests. Allies today, rivals tomorrow. I can't switch roles as smoothly as you."

"I'm simply professional," Admiral Winter defended himself lightly.

"So," Charles asked pointedly, "you didn't come here for personal reasons, did you?"

"Of course not," Winter admitted openly. Having traveled all the way from London, obviously friendship wasn't his motive.

Charles spread his hands slightly, indicating: see? They were dealing with official business, potentially adversaries again.

Winter sighed helplessly, "Alright. Remember the encryption machine we retrieved from the German submarine at the Dardanelles?"

"Certainly." Charles sipped his coffee leisurely, then paused, asking nonchalantly, "Is there a problem with it?"

"Yes," Winter sighed heavily. "The Germans have changed their encryption codes."

"It was bound to happen eventually," Charles remarked calmly. "If you had been more cautious, you could've used it longer."

Then, feigning surprise, he asked, "Don't tell me you were relying solely on this encryption machine to block the German navy's breakout attempts?"

Winter smiled wryly. "You guessed it. That was indeed our greatest advantage. Decoding their communications allowed us precise knowledge of all their plans and positions. But now…"

"No wonder you were so confident last time," Charles replied, a touch of schadenfreude in his voice. "Still, I trust the world's strongest navy can resolve this without trouble—am I right?"

Winter clearly sensed Charles's sarcasm, but he didn't take offense. Anyone else might have provoked anger, even a duel, over such open mockery. But Charles had earned the right to mock anyone he pleased.

"I'm here seeking cooperation, Charles," Winter said earnestly, staring at him directly. "Exactly as you once suggested: a partnership between the British Royal Navy and the French Navy."

Feigning ignorance, Charles responded, "Shouldn't you discuss this with the Navy Minister?"

"I already have," Winter shrugged slightly. "He had no objections. But I know very well that your support matters far more."

(End of Chapter 636)

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