CHAPTER 325: AFTER MODIFICATION: CHAPTER 325 THE FEELING OF THE BATTLEFIELD

After returning to his seat, Shire immediately set to work drawing the sketch of the French Adrian steel helmet.

There is a story about the French Army’s helmet: during one of the German Army’s intense bombings, a cook placed an iron pot upside down on his head, resulting in only minor injuries while many around him were severely injured or killed by the dense shrapnel and stones.

General Adrian of the French Army, upon hearing this, was deeply inspired and requested that the military industry develop metal helmets for the troops. Hence, the French regulation helmets became known as "Adrian helmets."

(The above image is of a French Adrian helmet, which is considered the progenitor of modern military helmets)

...

This order, of course, had to be handed over to Steed. After all, Shire didn’t have to do or handle anything yet would receive half the profit. It was almost as if Steed was working for Shire, with Shire only needing to provide the creative ideas.

The meeting took place during dinner time, still at the Ritz Hotel, but not in a conference room—it was held in the restaurant, with Dominic also present.

Steed sat at the main seat, Shire and Dominic sat opposite each other at the secondary seats, with an immaculate white tablecloth and elaborate yet elegant crystal chandeliers overhead, illuminating the spacious restaurant as if it were daylight.

"This is for your triumph, Colonel!" Steed’s gaze filled with admiration as he looked at Shire.

He genuinely admired Shire’s courage. As a capitalist, he knew the biggest difference between the rich and the poor:

Poor people lived in poverty, feeling they had nothing to lose and wanting to make a name for themselves, so going to the battlefield was natural.

Rich people had a good life waiting to be enjoyed, and if they lost their lives, everything they had worked hard to earn would become meaningless.

Shire, being one of the rich, actively requested to go to the front lines, which was unexpected to many people.

Seeing Shire’s apprehension toward the waiters standing on either side, Steed explained, "Rest assured, Colonel. Everyone who can enter the restaurant is my people."

Shire was satisfied with Steed’s arrangement, but a glance at the table made him disappointed: steak, red wine, caviar, and some fruits.

Shire felt disappointed because the rich in France ate the same things, only with supposed higher standards, like the steak had to be rib-eye from Australia, the red wine had to be from a specific year, and the caviar had to be from Caviar sturgeons, etc.

Shire didn’t care much about these particulars, having a more indifferent sense towards food; the taste differences were apparent but not to the point that such meticulousness was necessary.

Dominic turned the corner of the table to pour Shire a glass of wine, asking half skeptically, "Is it true what they say? That you fought on the battlefield with a rifle?"

"Yes," Shire nodded, "I had no choice. At the time, we were severely understrength, and the defensive line could have collapsed without my rifle."

Seated at the main chair, Steed raised his glass to Shire from afar, praising, "A heroic act, Colonel!"

But Shire didn’t think so; this had become the norm during the World War, even though it was less than a year since the war had begun.

Dominic looked at Shire with a complex expression and cautiously asked, "How did it feel, Colonel?"

Shire was momentarily stunned; he didn’t understand what Dominic was asking about.

But soon he understood.

Dominic liked guns and shooting, but he might never experience the battlefield, and naturally, he wouldn’t be on the front line aiming and firing at a living person.

Guns were invented for war, to kill the enemy, while Dominic could only shoot at targets on the range.

"You wouldn’t like it," Shire replied expressionlessly, "If you’re close, you could see the pain in their eyes as their soul leaves their body. You’ll empathize and involuntarily ponder what it would be like if you were shot."

"You’ll feel like a brute," Dominic interjected.

"Yes," Shire responded.

Since returning from the battlefield, he felt his mindset had changed.

It wasn’t about enduring hardship, it was about having killed the enemy; even though they were enemies, there’s still a significant difference between having done it and not.

Shire genuinely felt the fragility of life. Since then, what he previously thought of as cruelty seemed trivial in comparison.

Steed glanced at the pensive Dominic and smiled, "People didn’t expect the Colonel to do something like this. Now they can shut up, even the politicians can’t find fault with the Colonel’s bravery!"

What Steed saw was a business opportunity, a massive business opportunity.

Shire went to the battlefield whereas politicians and capitalists did not.

In the future, if there were any disputes about equipment, like whether to use Shire’s gear or Schneider’s, Shire’s actions could serve as a promotional gimmick: Shire had been to the battlefield, he understood war better than they did, he knew what was needed on the battlefield!

This might have been the reason Shire risked going to the battlefield, Steed thought.

After they were satisfied with food and drink, Shire took the helmet sketch out of his bag and handed it to Steed, "We can make a trial production batch, around ten thousand!"

Shire deliberately controlled the number to ten thousand for a reason.

During this period, military units were relatively large, with two brigades and four regiments making up a division, typically with over ten thousand or even twenty thousand troops in a division.

If they produced twenty thousand, with each soldier having one, there wouldn’t be a noticeable difference in comparing having or not having the helmets.

But if there were only ten thousand, they would only be able to equip part of the troops.

The same unit fighting in the same conditions, facing the German Army’s similar bombardment; if the casualty rate was lower for those wearing helmets, it would immediately demonstrate the effectiveness.

When Steed first saw the sketch, he didn’t think much of it—it was just a helmet, very unremarkable.

But on second thought, his eyes widened suddenly, and he looked up at Shire, asking, "You mean, if it works, it will become the standard helmet for the troops?"

Shire calmly responded with an "mmh."

Steed instantly beamed with joy; this was a big business deal, with France having over a million troops. If each soldier needed one helmet, that would be over a million units.

Moreover, helmets were consumables; they could be lost, damaged in action, or rust. Plus, new batches of recruits each needing one, it would be far more than just a million units.

"We must be prudent," Shire reminded, "If the initial batch is unpopular or ineffective, you know the consequences!"

"Of course, Colonel!" Steed nodded repeatedly, "Rest assured, I’ll ensure it’s well-made."

After a few seconds of consideration, Steed suggested, "We should minimize weight while ensuring its strength, so we should use high-strength steel!"