novelraw Chapter 629 “Shire B1” Tank
Chapter 629 “Shire B1” Tank
Davaz Town, Shire woke up in his own bed, feeling thoroughly refreshed.
It was already eleven o’clock last night when he finished discussing the airport and the purchase of additional planes with Gallieni. Although the dormitory at the City Defense Headquarters was always prepared for Shire, he still had Major Laurent take him back to the town.
He got out of bed and lifted a corner of the curtain, his gaze passing through the glass to look at the outside world.
Everything was dressed in silver; the trees were bent under the weight, their branches adorned with strings of crystal-clear icicles, swaying gently in the wind and making a rustling sound. Occasionally, a chunk of snow or ice would fall, raising a flurry of snow powder beneath the trees.
A few children wearing woolly hats and heavy cotton jackets were frolicking in the snow. Their laughter pierced the cold air like warm sunshine, bringing innocence and vitality to the quiet town.
This might be why Shire was unwilling to stay at the City Defense Headquarters and rushed back overnight.
It wasn’t just because this place had his familiar bed and warm home, nor was it just because of Dejoka and Camille. More importantly, it felt like a paradise far from the war and turmoil, where he could completely relax and find a moment of peace.
He stood there for a while longer before feeling a bit cold. Shivering, he quickly dove back into the warmth of his bed.
Originally planning to stay in bed for the entire day, there was nothing happier than staying under the covers in the dead of winter.
But soon, he thought of Matthew’s development of the "Shire B1" tank.
It had been more than a month since he was told the prototype would be ready in a month. He wondered what stage it was at now.
Forget it, the bed is more comfortable. Whatever stage it’s at, the "Shire A1" is enough for now, no need to hurry.
Then he thought, the "Shire B1" isn’t just for dealing with German tanks; its 75mm gun would be very beneficial for supporting infantry operations.
But then again, what good would it do for him to check on it? Could he speed up the progress or make any improvements?
The bed is still more comfortable; it’s freezing outside!
...
After repeatedly wrestling with himself for a long time, constantly giving himself reasons and then overturning them, again and again, he ultimately couldn’t suppress his curiosity.
He got out of bed, took a clean general’s uniform from the wardrobe, hurriedly adjusted his general’s hat in front of the mirror, and then went downstairs.
Camille was tidying up the dishes. When she saw Shire coming down, she looked a bit surprised: "Why not sleep a little more? Your father has already had breakfast and gone to work."
They thought Shire was still sleeping, so they didn’t wake him up.
"I’m planning to go to the factory, Mom!" Shire answered.
Camille brought Shire a plate of apple pie and a glass of milk, her tone reproachful: "You should stay home and rest, Shire, even if it’s just for a day."
"It’s not my day off today, Mom." Shire took a sip of milk and greedily bit into the warm, soft pie.
Previously, these foods never aroused his appetite, but now he found them to be delicious delicacies.
(The image above shows apple pie, a classic representative of French pastry, made with flour and cooked apples, with a crispy outer crust)
"There will always be more work to do." Camille looked at Shire: "You don’t need to put so much pressure on yourself."
Shire responded inarticulately but thought differently in his heart.
Many things must be done at the fastest speed possible, the quicker, the better. Otherwise, falling a single step behind would mean falling behind at every step, requiring more time and effort to catch up later, or even making it impossible to catch up.
After breakfast, Shire called Laurent to drive him to the factory. In this icy weather, he didn’t want to walk to the factory, although it wasn’t far.
In the car, Laurent told Shire something.
"I guess you didn’t know, General." As he was driving, Laurent said, lifting his eyes to glance at the rearview mirror and then looking forward again: "Pierre is dead."
Shire started, Pierre? Who?
Then he "oh-ed," remembering the uncle he had sent to the battlefield.
"Dead?" Shire looked at Laurent, puzzled.
Soldiers usually didn’t use the term "dead"; they would honor the fallen.
Laurent’s tone seemed somehow disdainful.
"Yes," Laurent nodded. "Last week, General. On the Verdun battlefield, it’s said he was scared by the enemy artillery, dropped his gun, and tried to escape, only to be killed by the sentinels."
Only then did Shire understand why Laurent spoke in that manner; soldiers despised those who feared death.
"People in the town rarely talk about this," Laurent explained. "They think it’s disgraceful, and I suppose your parents didn’t mention it either."
Shire murmured an acknowledgment.
Another reason could be that so many had fallen; a deserter like Pierre, dying by the hands of the sentinels, would soon be forgotten.
The car left two long tracks in the white snow and drove through the factory gate. Under the falling snowflakes, several guards hunched over, stamping their feet in the cold wind. Upon seeing Shire in the back seat of the car, they promptly lined up and saluted.
Shire casually returned the salute.
Everything continued as usual; Pierre’s death didn’t stir any waves in his heart.
Shire was only somewhat surprised that a guy who only knew how to live in luxury had managed to survive up until now — not easy!
...
In the tractor factory’s research department, Shire saw several tanks as soon as he walked in. Two were parked to the side, and one was in the open space in the middle, the air reeking of gasoline, suggesting a recent test drive.
Shire eyed it up and down; it was indeed the "Shire B1," looking more like a modern tank.
"Hey, Shire." Matthew hobbled over, smiling: "How’s everything?"
"Great," Shire responded.
Then he wondered why Matthew didn’t seem at all surprised to see him.
"You knew I was coming?" Shire asked.
Matthew shrugged: "Your father told me you were back."
Then he nodded towards the tank in the middle of the room: "I believe you want to see her."
Matthew’s face was brimming with pride as he handed the prepared data file to Shire: "Here are her test data."
Looking at the file, Shire saw that the frontal armor had been increased to 60mm, capable of easily withstanding the guns of the German tanks and not fearing the 77mm infantry guns at close range.
Additionally, the maximum speed had been increased to 28 kilometers per hour, significantly faster than the "Shire A1."
"Excellent." Shire nodded approvingly as he flipped through the file; higher speeds benefited maneuver warfare.
The only issue was that this tank weighed 31 tons, which would certainly place higher demands on bridges, roadways, and battlefield environments.
Handing the file back to Matthew, Shire moved forward, circling the "Shire B1" twice, and then said as he patted its rear: "Attach a round log here, with a few high-strength steel cables."
"A round log? Steel cables?" Matthew was stunned; what were those for?