Gallieni glanced at the quotation sheet. A grenade was priced at 2 francs, making ten thousand grenades only twenty thousand francs. Without a second thought, he signed his name.
He didn’t realize he had fallen into the price trap set by Shire:
The cost of producing a wooden-handle grenade was very cheap. Moreover, Saint-Étienne had ready-made powder, carpentry, and molding production lines. Piecing them together, a grenade factory quickly took shape.
Therefore, the final cost of a grenade was only around 35 centimes. Following the usual practice of doubling the price, selling it for 75 centimes would be enough, still ensuring a 100% profit.
But Shire knew Gallieni had no concept of grenades. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have casually mentioned "ten thousand grenades" previously.
It wasn’t a matter of "ten thousand grenades," but rather the consumption of several million, or even tens of millions of grenades per month.
If Gallieni had known this, he would have sat down to meticulously evaluate and reduce the price of every sou, every centime.
Because the quantity was so vast, each centime would turn into an astonishing figure in the end.
Due to Gallieni’s ignorance, he thought ten thousand grenades would be enough for the troops for a while. With a unit price of 2 francs, the total cost was just twenty thousand francs! Seeing no need to haggle, he signed blindly, thinking Shire was a conscientious capitalist.
Shire felt elated inside. With 165 centimes of profit, splitting it with the Saint-Étienne arsenal meant 82.5 centimes each. Even conservatively estimating a million grenades consumed at the front each month, it still meant a profit of 825,000 francs per month!
That almost matched the profit from selling a hundred "Mark I" tanks each month.
Moreover, the actual consumption data might be ten times, dozens of times higher!
Shire was almost startled by the numbers. Wasn’t this a bit unfair?
But on second thought, if he didn’t earn the military’s money, it would just go to those parasitic capitalists. He was already being conscientious, selling essential battlefield items! Unlike those profiteers who harm as well as exploit!
With this in mind, Shire felt completely justified and unashamed.
Gallieni never paid much attention to the grenades. He handed the signed contract back to Shire and asked, "So, you have some sort of alliance with Saint-Étienne?"
"You could say that!" Shire waved the contract in his hand. "He has a lot of experience in producing light weapons. The factory, workers, and machinery are all ready. I, on the other hand, have nothing! The cooperation benefits both sides, as well as the military!"
Gallieni nodded. This meant the military could quickly get what it needed. Even if the fighting got intense, there wouldn’t be any supply shortages.
Then Gallieni inwardly praised Steed. This old man had good foresight. By clinging to Shire, his Saint-Étienne arsenal wouldn’t just avoid decline but would reach unprecedented heights!
"Now!" Gallieni gestured towards the map beside him. "Lafox is in your hands. Whatever plan you have, put it into action!"
"Yes, General!" Shire responded. He saluted Gallieni, then turned and walked towards his desk. Before reaching it, he had already given an order to Major Fernan, "Deploy the reconnaissance and fighter squadrons, Major!"
"Yes, sir!" Major Fernan replied and immediately issued the orders via telephone.
The sky continued to drizzle. The area around the club was desolate, with neither shelter nor food, but it didn’t dampen the journalists’ enthusiasm. Braving the cold wind and rain, they waited outside the club, occasionally using binoculars to scan the sky.
To pass the time, they chatted with their colleagues:
"Do you think Shire will deploy rocket planes?"
"Maybe, but I don’t think it’s very effective!"
A journalist knowledgeable about military matters would then analyze:
"Because it’s the rainy season. Rockets mounted on wings can easily get damp, even with waterproof protection."
"More critically, visibility is low. When rocket planes dive to bomb targets, rain, even if only moderate, can obscure the target or make the ground hard to see."
"The dive might end up with the plane crashing into the ground!"
Exclamations of "I see" filled the air.
The military journalists looked smug. In reporting these types of stories, no novice could match their expertise. A little information shared wouldn’t hurt.
At that moment, the distant roar of engines could be heard from the airport. The journalists tensed up, raising their binoculars and cameras, ready to capture the scene.
Soon, one plane after another took off, climbing into the sky in a swarm-like formation.
The journalists cheered and then shouted in confusion:
"What type of aircraft? Aphro? How many?"
"Any rockets? Did anyone see any rockets?"
"No, they’re fighters. I saw the machine guns on their noses!"
"And reconnaissance planes, Gaudrons, and Pigeons."
First to take off was a squadron of six Aphro fighters, followed by two reconnaissance squadrons of Gaudrons and Pigeons.
Usually, Shire wouldn’t send out fighter and reconnaissance squadrons together, especially the Pigeons.
The reason was that the Germans also had many Pigeon reconnaissance planes. In rainy weather, it was hard for fighters to distinguish between friendly and enemy Pigeons.
This was a way to identify enemy planes and also enhance the fighters’ combat efficiency.
However, by this point in the war, there didn’t seem to be much need for that.
Carter had reported the current situation to Shire: "Lieutenant, as long as there’s even one Aphro in the sky, German planes stay grounded at their airfields! We haven’t had much to do for a while!"
So, the fighter take-off was more of a formality. The skies belonged to France until the day the Germans discovered the secret of the ’machine-gun synchronizer.’
The German garrison at Lafox immediately tensed up.
"Enemy aircraft!" The lookout, standing high, shouted, one hand holding binoculars and the other pointing skyward. "Enemy planes are coming!"
Khalil emerged from the command post and, seeing the faint silhouettes of the Aphros in the sky, ordered, "Command the artillery to camouflage well!"
"Without orders, do not open fire!"
"Yes, sir!" The communications officer quickly relayed the orders.
Khalil looked back at the sky, confidence on his face. Was Shire still planning to bomb the artillery with planes? This time, he would be sorely disappointed!