Chapter 571: America Is a Big, Juicy Steak
Stokes left fully satisfied, even though the cooperation agreement Charles offered was filled with strict conditions.
For example: the factory had to be built in Lavaz, he was required to train technical staff for the tractor plant, and for the first three years, he couldn't cooperate with the British government.
Stokes agreed to all of it without hesitation. He understood that Charles wasn't guarding against Scott Machinery Company—he was guarding against the British.
More importantly, Stokes knew that Charles was irreplaceable, but machinery companies were not.
If Stokes had refused today, there would be hundreds of other engineering firms lining up to partner with Charles tomorrow.
In fact, Stokes believed Charles had no reason to choose a British company at all. A domestic French company would have been far safer.
And that was true—but not the full story.
Charles did feel some responsibility: he had, after all, borrowed Stokes's mortar concept. Offering him a tank gun innovation in return was a kind of repayment.
But that was only part of the reason.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Deoka said as he scanned the contract, frowning slightly.
"Scott Machinery is still a British firm. Charles, if national interests ever clash, no agreement will protect us."
It was clear—as always, in the face of national interest, contracts were nothing but scraps of paper.
But Charles wasn't worried.
"French companies might be even more unreliable, Father," he replied.
"Most of them are entangled with Schneider."
Then Charles added:
"If Stokes is smart, he'll protect our interests—not Britain's."
Deoka seemed to understand. Charles had other inventions in the pipeline. Those would be the bait to keep Stokes on the hook.
The real enemy wasn't the British engineering sector—it was Schneider, the French industrial conglomerate. From a personal standpoint, a British company might be safer.
But wasn't that putting personal gain above national interest?
Deoka glanced at his son.
Charles didn't say anything. Some truths were too complicated to explain.
Historically, though Britain had invented the tank, as an island nation it focused on naval and air power—neglecting its army. As a result, their tanks always lagged behind. From the ineffective infantry tanks of WWII to the stubborn reliance on rifled guns long after the rest of the world had switched to smoothbore, British tank doctrine had always veered off course.
Charles wasn't worried about Britain becoming a tank rival. He could cooperate freely.
Deoka took a different view. He rationalized it with his own logic:
Charles is the most conscientious capitalist. His interests are the national interest.
Yes. That must be it.
Then Deoka remembered something. He went to his desk, pulled out a file, and handed it to Charles.
"You've made the right decisions."
"Our insurance business is thriving—in both Britain and France."
"In just a few months, we've acquired over 100 insurance companies—48 in Britain, 71 in France."
Charles opened the file. He flipped to the final page and nearly dropped it.
Not counting the rapidly growing pound and franc assets, they had already converted over 120 million U.S. dollars.
To put it in perspective, Britain had borrowed just over 10 billion from the U.S. across the entire war—a figure that would shape the war's outcome. And here Charles was, personally holding over one percent of that in foreign currency.
This is what war does, Charles thought. It turns wealth exponential.
"And that's after we spent a fortune on military supplies for the front," Deoka added, raising his eyebrows.
"We spent over 30 million dollars on the Sixth Army Group alone."
Deoka couldn't help but feel regret.
"I know you saved a lot of lives. But we shouldn't be the ones paying for it."
He meant: the funds could've been claimed from Parliament. After all, it was used to resolve the army's mutiny.
"It was worth it, Father," Charles replied. He had no intention of seeking reimbursement.
"Alright then." Deoka nodded. "What next? Keep buying supplies?"
Charles casually flipped through the file and shook his head.
"No. I plan to build arms factories in the United States."
Deoka, midway through sipping his coffee, froze in place.
"In the United States?" he asked in shock. "You're serious?"
Charles nodded.
"Which sector?" Deoka asked, still stunned.
"All of them," Charles said.
"Light machine guns, submachine guns, rifles, grenades, helmets."
Deoka put down his cup. His tone turned cautious.
"Have you considered whether the U.S. needs these things? They're a neutral country, Charles. You've heard of the Monroe Doctrine, haven't you?"
(Note: The Monroe Doctrine, 1823, stated that the U.S. would remain neutral in European affairs and considered intervention in the Americas a hostile act.)
"Yes, Father." Charles closed the file. He realized these numbers weren't enough. What mattered was how to double them.
"Then you should understand—the U.S. won't join the war."
Deoka thought Charles was making a strategic mistake. If America didn't join, there would be no demand for weapons—no market.
"America will enter the war," Charles said confidently, handing the file back.
To him, the U.S. was a giant, juicy steak.
Everyone—even Americans themselves—thought they would remain neutral. As a result, they had done nothing to prepare.
Their soldiers wore cowboy hats—"Montana peak" or "lemon squeezer" caps. They had no tanks, no armored cars. They had to buy machine guns from the French—including the utterly unreliable Chauchat.
Charles thought: Why not beat them to it?
Sell them weapons. Take their money. Use those dollars to buy supplies and ship them back to France. Cut Britain out entirely—even bypass the First Lord of the Admiralty and his shipping monopoly.
"Alright." Deoka gave in. Charles hadn't been wrong yet.
"Then who should we send to America?"
Charles had an answer immediately.
"What about Joseph?"
"Joseph?" Deoka blinked.
"He's loyal, no doubt—but he doesn't know much about the military."
Joseph was Mathieu's father, the long-serving Bernard family butler, and current director of the tractor factory.
"He doesn't need to know the military, Father," Charles said.
"He just needs to know how to run a business."
After all, how many arms dealers really knew the military?
Steed?
Wells?
James?
Charles smiled. It wasn't about military knowledge. It was about vision.
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