Iron Cross Fire

So far, the rocket launcher problem has been corrected, and the infantry weapons have remained at the leading level, so there is no need to worry.

As for the tanks that support units, the current industrial capacity is already laborious to produce. If they have to upgrade their technology to another level, the workers may be angry.

So Kuster will not devote the rest of his time to these places where he has already put a lot of effort into it. He planned to produce artillery, namely the 75MM and 88MM artillery that had previously been abandoned for various reasons.

The design drawings are almost unchanged from before, the breech block is still a horizontal wedge type, and the steel materials are also the latest.

However, the idea of ​​​​self-propelled artillery was scrapped. There was no reliable truck to support a motorized unit, let alone moving the artillery to the vehicle.

Tank chassis are also in very short supply, and compared to the abundant and bloated long-range firepower, tanks, a powerful breakthrough weapon, are what is most needed in war. It is obviously not worth wasting a tank chassis to replace a cannon with just a pair of wheels.

In this backward industrial environment and poor political conditions, any innovation is heresy. We can only follow tradition and develop towed artillery as a matter of course.

After finishing the drawings, Kuster felt a little quiet, sighed, folded the drawings and stuffed them into the gaps between the walls, and then blocked them with soil.

He stood up, made a phone call, and asked how long it would take before Franz and his gang arrived.

"Almost four days."

There are still a few days to relax. Kuster sighed again, returned to the blacksmith shop where he had buried the sword in the ground, and struck up a friendly conversation with the old blacksmith.

It happened that the old blacksmith was quite free. According to him, since the beginning of the war, he had been producing bayonets and shovels every day and night, and he was about to vomit.

Like Kuster, he is very busy most of the time, but now he is actually free.

According to the citizens on the street: "The Russians have surrendered, and no one dares to fight with us on the bayonet."

I don’t know if it’s true or not, but Kuster just wants to rest for a while.

He walked to the familiar pit, kicked away the dust accumulated on it, and braved the fire caused by the burning charcoal to kick out the sword.

The old blacksmith skillfully put on his leather gloves, then put on a layer of thick fur gloves, and then picked up the hot sword.

After leaving it for a few minutes to cool down, grind it on the anvil and make a sharp sound like a sharp blade coming out of its sheath.

"Congratulations, it's hardened."

"Twelve days..." Kuster muttered to himself, his eyes suddenly focused, and he started to ask:

"How many days will it take to do this with good steel?"

"Then you'd have to ask my great-grandfather."

The blacksmith's casual joke amused Kuster. He smiled half-heartedly, turned around and asked:

"How many days does it take to select a good steel material?"

"Then you have to ask the Indians."

Kuster turned back, shook his head and smiled:

"How many days does it take to produce a good steel product?"

"Then you have to ask - yourself."

Seeing him like this, Kuster sighed again, looked at the sky with some emotion, and then asked him:

"So, what do you think is a good steel material?"

The old blacksmith didn't reply, concentrating on wiping the dirty wooden boards.

Kuster smiled again, stretched his hand to his waist, took out a few thousand kroner and handed it to the blacksmith.

"Since you want me to ask the Indians, then please accept the money and ask them for me. Of course, if you have time, you can also ask your great-grandfather who has passed away a hundred years ago for me."

The old blacksmith looked very panicked and quickly retreated, almost hitting the ground with the back of his head.

He finally got up from the ground and stabilized his body, then stared at Kuster in disbelief and kept muttering:

"Sir...General, oh no...Generalissimo! I'm sure that the knife on your body is very exquisite, hundreds of times better than my craftsmanship, and it's also made of gold. I really can't understand it!"

Hearing what he said, Kuster unnaturally drew out his sword.

In an instant, all the reflected light penetrated into the golden ritual sword, and shined with even more brilliant golden light, spreading along the exquisite textures towards the hilt. Kuster held up the sword and stood on the clear land under the scorching sun, which was even several times brighter than the sun.

Whether it is the blacksmith or the Kuster, their eyes are attracted for a moment.

However, this moment was short-lived, and the old blacksmith quickly looked back, still as calm and knowledgeable as ever.

Kuster was a little reluctant, took a deep breath, and then let it out.

Close your eyes, hold the handle of the sword tightly with both hands, and raise it high with all your strength.

"Oh my God! You won't..."

His move caused the blacksmith to scream, but it was too late.

With a crisp sound, the golden sword hit the anvil. The huge pressure directly broke the sword in half, and it was broken from 1/2 of the sword, which meant that it could not be repaired.

The nearby dogs were startled by the sound like breaking glass and barked uneasily. But when he saw the sparkling gold fragments, he kicked up his hind legs and headed straight for the gold.

There were also some people wandering on the street who heard the noise from the old blacksmith's house. They thought something had happened to the old blacksmith and hurried to the door.

After seeing the gold, their reaction was the same as that of the dogs. Their eyes were attracted and they were reluctant to move.

But when I saw the old blacksmith standing stunned like a stone statue in the yard, I looked slightly to the right - that was Marshal Kuster!

If the old blacksmith was alone, he could still break in, but no one wanted to compete with the marshal of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Moreover, only such powerful people could afford to use such gold weapons.

As a human, his rationality barely retained a trace of dignity, and at the same time saved his life - those dogs were killed by the gendarmes, and the bodies were still bloody, covering the brilliance of the gold fragments.

Kuster personally bent down to pick up the fragments one by one, and then put them in his hands and handed them to the old blacksmith:

"If that little crown can't convince you, then the gold stained with dog blood will definitely move you."

The old blacksmith had been frightened by the movement just now and his legs were shaking. At this moment, he couldn't say a word and could only take it trembling all over.

"Excuse me, do you... need anything?"

The old blacksmith said a sentence with difficulty, and his words and tone became more respectful.

Kuster reacted, turned around a little embarrassedly, and stretched out his bloody right hand, almost frightening the blacksmith to faint.

But the blacksmith soon calmed down and took the broken golden sword from his hand.

"I hope you can use the best steel from India to fill the gap for me."

"Marshal... your request is too difficult, I can't do it. And even if this kind of sword is made, it will break in one go. Especially... it's ugly."

The old blacksmith was a little depressed, his tone became more and more humble, and his body gradually hunched down.

Kust just took a step forward and suddenly stopped, standing motionless in front of the blacksmith, like the god of death.

He turned around slowly, revealing a nonchalant expression:

"Who told you I was going to use this sword?"

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