The Rise Of A Billionaire 1943
Chapter 48 - 49 – A Gift for the Japs

Chapter 48: Chapter 49 – A Gift for the Japs

"Tell me—why attack their agriculture?"

"General, Japan is a country that lives by the code of Bushidō. Every citizen is ready to die for the Emperor—you’ve surely seen that from frontline reports. But that’s just the battlefield. Back home, they’re even more extreme. Women, children—they’re all willing to sacrifice themselves to kill the enemy."

The more fanatical he made the Japanese sound, the more ruthless the U.S. military would be willing to act.

If the U.S. were to go soft, Japan would get off lightly. Pierre couldn’t let that happen.

So what if he exaggerated the Japanese? The more dangerous they sounded, the more justified the Americans would feel in hitting them harder.

"They really are lunatics," Holcomb said.

"On Guadalcanal, they charged our positions screaming ’banzai,’ throwing their bodies at our defenses. Sometimes they literally tore through the line with flesh and blood. It rattled our boys."

He shook his head grimly.

"Their bodies can’t stop bullets, but their madness is beyond reason."

"Exactly, General. The Allies will eventually invade the Japanese home islands—Tokyo itself. And when that day comes, we’ll be facing 70 million fanatics. Men, women, the elderly, even children—all potential enemies, and they’ll resist death. The casualties will be massive."

In another timeline, the U.S. had agreed to a less-than-unconditional surrender from Japan—just to avoid those massive losses.

But in this world, Pierre wasn’t going to let the Japanese off so easily.

"Compared to bullets, the most devastating weapon is starvation. Japan is an island nation with limited natural resources. Most of its essentials—including food—have to be imported. I believe the Allies are already aware of this and are targeting their shipping lanes."

That wasn’t a secret. Newspapers were regularly reporting U.S. submarines sinking Japanese merchant ships.

"But that only treats the symptom. Japan still has farmland on its home islands. If, during our future bombing campaigns, we spray this chemical on their rice fields, we can cut production by half with just tens of millions of liters. Combine that with a maritime blockade, and I believe the entire country would be plunged into famine."

**Not just hunger—starvation.

How many would starve?

At the very least—millions.

Starving millions of Japanese was, in Pierre’s mind, just collecting a bit of interest.

Such "blessings" would make the Japanese "grateful" for half a century—at the cost of a generation.

"Pierre," General Holcomb repeated the name slowly.

"You really are French."

Pierre nodded. He knew exactly why Holcomb said that. To speak like this, to offer these kinds of strategies with no hesitation or guilt, you had to hate the Japanese deeply.

And who hated the Japanese the most?..

"Yes, I am."

"Well, I’m American. And we share the same goal: send those Japs straight to hell."

Holcomb looked at the young man across from him. Then, closing the folder, he asked:

"What do you need from me?"

Success!

Pierre’s heart surged with excitement.

Not just because of future orders—thousands or tens of thousands of tons of material.

But because he could finally give the Japs their "reward."

Pop the champagne! Break out the Lafite! Drink straight from the crate!

Taking a deep breath, Pierre answered:

"General, first, we need the military to formally authorize this as a defense project. You know how it is—if our company’s technical staff get drafted, it’ll derail the whole development schedule."

During wartime, only projects recognized by the military were granted draft exemption for scientists. In fact, Arthur Galston himself had been drafted shortly after the military dropped his rubber program. Scientists were soldiers too.

Holcomb nodded.

"That’s reasonable. What else?"

"We’ll need some aircraft—and a suitable test site. Ideally, a tropical rainforest, so we can measure real-world effectiveness. Also, we need a rice cultivation area to test agricultural impact."

Pierre laid out his requests clearly.

Holcomb agreed to all of it without hesitation. Finally, he looked at Pierre and said:

"I’ll have Colonel Harry oversee the follow-up. You’ll have an answer very soon. But tell me— when will we see results?"

----

Chapter 50 – Everything Runs on Connections

It turns out, a third-tier Marine general is still a general.

That very afternoon, Pierre received a phone call from the Pentagon. Not long after, a jeep arrived at the hotel to pick him up, and he was rushed straight to the Pentagon.

In a room that still smelled of fresh paint and construction dust, Colonel Leto John received him, and got straight to the point:

"The military has approved listing your company’s ’Agent Orange’ under the official development program. We’ll be signing a contract. But I need to remind you..."

Colonel John looked at the young man in front of him.

"After you sign this agreement, the military will provide no less than five million dollars in funding for the research and refinement of ’Agent Orange’ and its derivatives. However, during the war, if necessary, the military reserves the right to authorize other companies to produce it. Your company will be required to provide full technical documentation to any designated manufacturers. That said, once the war ends, any company wishing to continue production must negotiate licensing terms with you—and you have the right to demand they stop."

Before coming to Washington, Pierre had done his homework on wartime patent laws. When the war broke out, the U.S. government had created special agencies to coordinate patent disputes. For example, in synthetic rubber:

Though DuPont had invented neoprene, and Standard Oil had developed butyl rubber, neither could be used for tire manufacturing. The ideal was styrene-butadiene rubber (SBR)—invented by IG Farben of Germany. Luckily, through pre-war tech cooperation, Standard Oil had secured licensing for SBR.

But by 1941, Standard Oil still hadn’t begun producing it and even threatened lawsuits to prevent other tire companies from using it. In response, the U.S. government stepped in—forcing Standard to sign cross-licensing agreements with all major tire producers. Then in 1942, it launched a legal investigation into Standard’s relationship with enemy firm IG Farben. Under pressure, Standard agreed to freely share its rubber patents with all wartime partners.

Classic American pragmatism—ruthless but effective.

Just like the company that invented the Jeep—barely built any Jeeps themselves.

In wartime, patents mean nothing.

And Pierre wasn’t bothered at all. As long as America was willing to mass-produce it, the more Agent Orange they made, the more pain they could inflict on Japan.

That’s a win. Why say no?

"No problem!"

Pierre signed the contract without hesitation.

"Within two days of signing, an initial payment of two million dollars will be wired to your company account."

Now that’s deep pockets.

No small talk. No fluff. Just cold, hard cash.

It also made Pierre fully realize the power of knowledge. A factory worth a million... suddenly making millions more.

The arms business really is absurdly profitable.

After the contract was signed, Colonel John handed over a business card.

"Here’s my card. My phone number’s on it. If you need anything, we can stay in contact."

"Thank you, Colonel."

Just as Pierre pocketed the card, Colonel John seemed to remember something.

"I heard your company is newly established, right?"

"That’s right."

"Then you must need employees."

He said it casually.

"I have a friend whose son just graduated from university—law major. I wonder if there’s a suitable role at your lab?"

"Perfect timing!"

Pierre jumped on it immediately.

"KTJ Lab is just looking for a legal consultant to assist with patent affairs. If your friend’s son is interested, he’s welcome to apply."

Did he actually need a legal consultant?

Maybe not. But when in Washington, politics beats logic.

And sure enough, Colonel John’s smile grew even warmer. He even invited Pierre to have coffee in his office. Who knows how much the Pentagon’s coffee machine cost—but coffee always smooths conversations.

After some casual chatting, Pierre learned the truth:

"That friend" was Colonel John himself.

And his son wanted to join KTJ because it came with a military exemption.

What a sly fox.

Send other people’s kids to the front lines—and stash your own son in a Pentagon-approved civilian lab.

Still, the power of favors is undeniable.

For instance, once Colonel John heard that Pierre’s other company manufactured submachine guns, he immediately said the military urgently needed SMGs.

"Send over 100 units for testing. If they pass, we’ll place a bulk order."

Bingo.

Pierre was officially an arms dealer now.

He’d broken into the U.S. military procurement chain—success and fortune were all but guaranteed.

Even though in the grand scheme of hundreds of billions in defense spending, Pierre’s operation was a tiny speck, feeding on scraps from corporate giants...

Even those scraps were worth a fortune.

In the days that followed, Pierre was anything but idle in Washington.

He coordinated with the military on test site preparations, and began building connections with military testing agencies—dropping small gifts via intermediaries to "warm up" key relationships.

Of course, he didn’t forget Colonel John.

He sent his son a graduation gift: a used car.

Only a year out of college, but Pierre had already learned salesmanship—and more importantly, how to manage people and relationships.

Right now, for Zhenhua Company, networking was more critical than business operations.

And indeed—Washington was no different from the rest of the world.

Black-feathered crows look the same everywhere.

Connections mattered. Relationships mattered.

Just as Pierre was doing everything he could to build his own network, someone approached him.

"Hello, Mr. Pierre. I’m Harvey, of Harvey & Associates. Here’s my card."

A middle-aged American man in a crisp suit took a seat at Pierre’s table and handed him a business card.

He got straight to the point:

"I’m aware your company just secured a Department of Defense contract, and I also know you’re currently building a network here in Washington. But Mr. Pierre, you must understand—some things are best left to professionals.

Only then will you get the results you want."

Glancing down at the card in his hand, Pierre smiled.

The legendary lobbyist... had finally arrived.