Munitions Empire

Chapter 669: 628 no one appreciates

“Squeak…” A heavy mask with dark lenses shielded his face as a welder kneeled on one knee, bending over a steel plate, busily working on a welding point.

The electric welding in his hand emitted dazzling light, and sparks shot out around him, illuminating a row of neatly arranged tank hull semi-finished products nearby.

This was a production base for the No. 4 tank chassis located in the Tongcheng industrial area. Next to the welder, a group of apprentices wearing sunglasses huddled close, learning how to operate electric welding and join two pieces of steel together.

In fact, the technology for the No. 4 tank wasn’t exactly advanced—if one were to observe closely, they’d notice many rivets on its chassis.

Also, due to design reasons, there were many openings on the tank chassis, including maintenance ports for the tank and escape hatches at the bottom for the crew to evacuate.

The giant gantry crane at the top of the workshop transported a freshly produced semi-finished chassis to the corresponding position, while the other side of the workshop was designated for installing fuel tanks and other parts.

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Following that, these chassis would be moved further away, where engines and gearboxes were hoisted in place, and the central drive shafts installed.

That area was even busier with a large crowd of workers waiting. They would use wrenches to tighten screws, a job that by the twenty-first century was almost entirely contracted out to robotic arms.

“Buzz…” As the crane moved, the loud sound of the electric motor echoed in the workshop, punctuated by the crackling sound of welding, almost resembling a symphony.

Every process was extremely precise and complicated, even to the point where sometimes, rust-proof paint had to be applied in advance to ensure the longevity of the internal parts.

Such a large factory was in full production every day, and as long as the supply of raw materials was uninterrupted, all the links in the chain would keep moving.

In a noisy corner of the production workshop was an iron staircase leading upstairs to the management office of the workshop.

At this moment, the workshop manager, smoking a cigarette, looked down at the newly arrived blueprints with a puzzled face, turning to the engineer who delivered the new blueprints, “Changed again?”

They had just revised the blueprints a few days ago, further increasing the front armor thickness of the hull. The previous batch of chassis, which had been “cutting corners,” featured a front armor that was 30 millimeters thick—thinner than previous versions.

This batch of No. 4 tank chassis was exclusively for the artillery corps, intended for mounting 155 millimeter caliber howitzers to create Wild Bee Automatic Cannons.

Since they were self-propelled guns, there wasn’t a need for thick front armor, so they decided to save on material and, by doing so, also reduce the weight—a classic case of killing two birds with one stone.

“Yes, the front-line troops suffered a serious loss. A self-propelled gun ran over a landmine, and the entire crew was killed, along with five infantrymen nearby,” the engineer explained with a pained expression.

He pointed to the elimination of the bottom escape hatch on the blueprint, as well as several inspection ports, saying, “Military requirements.”

In actual combat, most of these bottom openings had little use save for a few essential maintenance ports; the rest of the openings were rarely used.

But these openings weakened the bottom defense, so some were to be eliminated. It was also a simplification of the process, speeding up production and reducing costs.

“Alright, I’ll have a meeting after work and tell the workers to adjust according to the new production requirements,” said the workshop manager. “However, changing the production process might affect the production rate. It’s unavoidable.”

“I understand,” the engineer nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Our enemies are getting stronger. They even use landmines with large charges to cause us trouble.”

“Landmines?” The production manager was obviously not very familiar with military nomenclature. Despite being involved in tank production, he knew very little about landmines.

“It’s nothing. Just venting,” the engineer wasn’t about to introduce another type of weapons system to someone focused on production, waving his hand before grabbing his briefcase and walking out of the workshop manager’s office.

The work in the workshop continued unabated, everyone busy with their tasks. Through precise coordination, these skillful workers churned out one chassis of the No. 4 tank after another from their production line.

In the far-off distance, chimneys continuously belched thick smoke that merged into one mass in the distance, as if all the clouds in the world were being manufactured right there.

Sitting in a car, driving on the smooth road, the engineer could still recall the scene when he first arrived here.

Back then, although there were already quite a few factories here, it was nothing compared to the present. If the factories at that time were likened to a few bags of rice, then Tongcheng now was akin to a gigantic granary!

Countless workers were employed here, with the air permeated by the smell of steel. Even though plants occupied every visible corner, a single wipe on their leaves would leave one’s finger covered in black soot.

Nowadays, this black soot wasn’t a sign of an environmental disaster but a symbol of wealth and production capacity! Only with such a symbol could it be proven that this place was fully industrialized and possessed tremendous productive forces.

The engineer stuffed his briefcase into the front basket of his bicycle and rode out of the factory area. A car passed by him, gradually disappearing at the end of the road.

The People’s Brand minicar that sped past the engineer whizzed down the road and then slowed down, coming to a stop in front of a crossbar.

On both sides were fields filled with grains, where farmers busied themselves on the ridges, working from sunrise to sunset just like the workers in the industrial zone, to ensure that they could enjoy the fruits of a good harvest in the future.

On one side of the crossbar, red lights warning people to be careful flashed incessantly, and a bell-like tinkling sound was faithfully alerting people not to come near.

Soon, a locomotive pulling a long train of cars passed by slowly, the railway crossing the road, carrying two different paths of transport at this intersection.

Accompanied by the long whistle, the smoke-belching train engine passed in front of the car, followed by coal-carrying cars and then flatbeds, one after another, seemingly without end.

On the flatbeds were secured new, yet unpainted self-propelled cannons that had just been produced using the chassis of Tank No. 4 and had a caliber of 155 millimeters.

These self-propelled cannons, only coated with brown-red anti-rust primer, didn’t look imposing, but soon they were to be camouflaged, topped with canvas material of the Red Dragon Flag in their open fighting compartments as a friend-foe identification sign, and then issued to the Armored Corps.

Sitting in the back row, the Director of Production overseeing this factory district counted the self-propelled cannons passing in front of him, finding a total of 60 vehicles.

It seemed that several artillery regiments were about to receive their weapons and equipment—or at least, a portion of the desperately needed arsenal.

There was no helping it; with the constant expansion of Tang Country’s military, there were almost no troops fully equipped with all their intended weapons.

Most Armored Divisions had only two-thirds their tank quotas to make an appearance, and newly formed Armored Corps even maintained their training with just a third of their tanks.

Meanwhile, there was a significant shortage of cars as well, with many troops supposed to receive 500 vehicles only ending up with 300 or maybe 400.

However, compared to tanks, a heavier type of equipment, the shortfall of cars was not so substantial, and the replenishment rate was also much quicker.

These self-propelled cannons in front could probably be issued to several artillery regiments, with a regiment being thrilled to get 10 such cannons.

“Minister Mathews is coming to inspect this place tomorrow, and I hope the area under my responsibility will not encounter any problems,” the Director said to the secretary sitting in the front passenger seat.

He didn’t actually like the People’s Brand cars; the suspension was poor, the engine power mediocre, and the riding experience was very unpleasant.

Unfortunately, since Brunas was lost, the production of luxury cars was somewhat affected, and Tang Country now had a serious shortage of middle and high-end car production capacity.

Considering that in Chang’an and other areas, there was still a large number of nobles waiting for good cars, it seemed only natural for local government departments outside to be assigned only People’s Brand cars.

“Don’t worry, Director… I checked just yesterday, the operation of the factory is very normal, and there’s no problem with the newly built Lion Wheeled Armored Reconnaissance Vehicle factory,” the secretary immediately turned around to report, “You just need to accompany Minister Mathews for a walk and take a casual look.”

“You have worked hard,” the Director, who was only 23 years old, closed his eyes and started to doze off, looking very formidable.

His secretary was a former official of Zheng Country, retained to assist with the work here. This secretary was once a high-ranking official in Tongcheng, now 48 years old.

Because of manpower shortages, there were still quite a few ex-Zheng Country officials in Tang Country. Those who remained were the better-reputed and capable ones among the former Zheng Country officials.

The corrupt and incompetent were dealt with during the conquest of Zheng Country, and the incapable were eliminated in the subsequent employment cutbacks.

In short, those who had survived until today were talents to some extent. However, these people could only serve as deputies or secretarial clerks, and they were not able to govern on their own.

“It’s not hard! It’s all part of my job, part of my responsibility,” said the secretary, who was even a few years older than his superior’s father, with a smile of modesty on his face following the praise from his boss.

After the train passed, the barrier rose high, and as the car crossed the railroad track, it jolted badly, but the road ahead was smooth and shortly the young Director was indeed fast asleep.

On both sides of the road, there were endless fields, with beautiful scenery that seemed to go unnoticed.

———–

An additional chapter to make up for the previous one.