The Rise Of A Billionaire 1943
Chapter 41 - 42 – Never Forget July 7th

Chapter 41: Chapter 42 – Never Forget July 7th

"So... it’s just a mechanical parts factory?"

On the way to Karl Metal Company, General Jiang frowned as he flipped through the file in his hands.

"You’re sure this company can handle our order?"

His tone to Song Peilun, seated beside him, was filled with doubt.

Since arriving in the United States the previous year, General Jiang, in charge of China’s Defense Procurement Office, had learned that things were far more complicated than expected.

Though the U.S. had approved aid to China, its own manufacturing capabilities were overstretched.

With priority going to the UK and USSR, there simply wasn’t much left for China.

The Americans had been blunt about it:

"Find your own suppliers. We’ll pay the bill."

But that put General Jiang in an absurd position— he had plenty of U.S. dollars, yet nowhere to spend them.

He had even gone as far as Canada, trying to place an urgent order with Inglis for weapons badly needed back home.

But they too were tied up with British contracts.

As for China?

Get in line.

He understood the dire straits the Defense Procurement Office was in.

"Besides, do we even have other options right now?

Inglis just wired back—they can’t deliver anything until the end of the year.

But our forces back home?

They can’t wait that long."

Wang Fukei, sitting nearby, added,

"And the pistols we were promised were also seized by the British.

Even if they take our order now, there’s no guarantee the goods won’t be confiscated again."

"The damn Brits..."

General Jiang’s fists clenched at the memory.

"Last year, when the Japanese bombed Chongqing repeatedly,

we needed planes more than anything,

and those bastards rerouted our aircraft shipments to North Africa.

Now our weapons orders are getting hijacked too.

Even those prototype pistols—based on the FN1935—we handed them ourselves!"

Indeed, just two weeks ago, Inglis had delivered the first 1,000 pistols,

then the British military had seized the rest.

And those pistols had been made using Chinese-supplied blueprints and samples.

"Exactly," Song Peilun said.

"At least in America, we won’t have to worry about getting cut out by the Brits."

Jiang nodded grimly.

Being undermined from within was bad enough.

Getting scolded by headquarters back home? Even worse.

"But... have they actually ever made guns before?

They’re just a machine shop."

To this, Wang Fukei replied,

"General, we’ve been in the U.S. for over a year now.

We’ve toured dozens of plants.

How many of them were originally weapons factories?

What gives the U.S. its massive output is that civilian factories have converted to military production.

Why can’t they do the same?"

Jiang considered this.

"You’re not wrong...

Let’s hope this trip isn’t a waste of time."

It definitely wasn’t.

The only disappointment was that the company’s rather legendary boss wasn’t present.

According to the manager, Karl, he had gone to Havana for the weekend.

"To another country... just for the weekend?"

Now that was extravagant.

Still, there was no time to dwell on that.

Soon came surprise after surprise.

When they asked whether the company had the capability to manufacture firearms,

Karl simply smiled and invited them out back.

As they neared the factory’s testing range, they heard a burst of gunfire.

"Manager Karl," Jiang asked sharply,

"what’s with the gunfire?"

Karl turned to him and said proudly,

"General, in this war between good and evil, no one can afford to stay on the sidelines—including us.

Our company has developed a new submachine gun, which is now ready for mass production.

Its performance is outstanding—better than the M3 Grease Gun..."

Then he added,

"Not only is it better—it’s cheaper.

Even cheaper than the British Sten."

"What? Cheaper than the Sten?"

Jiang raised an eyebrow.

"But for weapons, price isn’t everything.

Reliability matters most."

"Don’t worry, General," Karl said confidently.

"This one’s shockingly reliable."

What followed was a live-fire demo.

The results were remarkable.

Compared to the Thompson, M3, and Sten, this new weapon showed superior firepower, reliability, and longevity.

In testing, it had fired over 5,000 rounds, with only one malfunction.

The delegation was completely won over.

"How much per unit? Let’s say..."

Jiang paused, doing mental math.

"...we order 50,000 units?"

"$12 per gun."

Karl explained,

"That’s slightly more than the Sten, but if we reach full-scale production—say 500,000 units— I guarantee the price will drop below $10."

$12 was an absolute bargain.

The three men—Jiang, Wang Fukei, and Song Peilun—exchanged glances.

While it was technically more expensive than what the British government paid for Stens, they were never going to get those prices anyway.

Canadian factories still had to turn a profit, after all.

"When can you start delivering?" Jiang asked without hesitation.

"First batch within a month. All 50,000 delivered within two."

Karl was confident.

With only 17 parts per gun—many stamped—they could even finish faster if the workflow smoothed out.

"Then let’s sign the contract immediately."

Jiang didn’t need to think twice.

Back home, they were desperate for weapons.

Waiting on U.S. allocations or British "mercy" wasn’t an option anymore.

After the deal was signed,

Jiang learned the gun didn’t yet have an official designation.

He paused, then suggested:

"Engrave the name onto the receiver:

’Type 77 Submachine Gun – Made in USA.’"

The room fell silent.

"77"—July 7th—the date of the Marco Polo Bridge Incident.

The spark that ignited eight long years of war.

Who would have imagined that the first arms order for Karl Metals Company would actually come from within the country?

When Pierre received Karl’s telegram, he was stunned for quite a while. It was a surprise—an absolute surprise.

But beyond the surprise, he was filled with emotion.

"Type 77 submachine gun... never forget the July 7th Incident..."

This unexpected order also made him see a new business opportunity.

"Selling weapons back home... this isn’t just a business opportunity—it’s clearly support for the resistance!"

"Wait... the resistance!"

At this moment, what filled Pierre’s mind wasn’t just the resistance.

It was... how to kill Japanese soldiers.

How many Japanese soldiers could a few submachine guns really kill?

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