Vince. Vane finally heard the sound of someone climbing the stairs he had been waiting for. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 Info's nerves tensed, and he pulled the hammer of his pistol ready to deliver a fatal blow to the rebels who climbed up - the moment he lifted the floor and poked his head out.

But in the next second, he heard a familiar voice. "Vince, Vince. Vane, are you still alive? ”

It's Wendehei.

"Son of a bitch—" Vane cried, happy and excited, but more angry. He lifted the lid on the floor and saw a smiling face mixed with relief, joy, and apology.

It skyrocketed his anger. Vane was tempted to shatter Moon's smile with a ferocious straight punch that would surely make him feel a little better. But before he could hesitate to do so, he apologized.

"I'm sorry, man." "I would have liked to bring a reinforcement force over, but after receiving the report, our commander decided to retreat behind the second line of barbed wire, so I ......"

"Damn it, Wen." Vane interrupted him, "You've made me miserable. ”

"I told you, I'm sorry for that, Vince." Wen Deji admitted that he hoped that he would not be hated by him for this.

Still, Vane wasn't going to hold a grudge against him. Anyway, it was a battle, anything could happen, and he wasn't hurt by it; Of course, he didn't want a similar bad situation to happen again. "Next time," he said, "we'll come over, and I'll report, and you'll stay." ”

"Yes." Wen Deji immediately agreed, secretly relieved. Then he beckoned. "Come down, man, we need to count the damage."

"What loss?"

"We were robbed by the Vietnamese."

Robbery, this is not entirely true, at least it does not accurately describe the losses of the mercenaries - when they returned to the barracks to count their losses, they came to the conclusion that it was an unnecessary move. The situation is clear, everything that can be taken has been removed, not even the smelly socks that have not been washed are left. Counts? Of course, there's no need to waste time.

So the heroes of the battle who had just won the battle now all had a bitter face, or were constantly cursing at the rebels—although what was kept in the barracks was not all their possessions, but it was their personal property; And some people would be angry even if they were robbed of a dollar, and now the mercenaries have lost at least ten times that number.

Of course they will be angry, and they will be furious and furious.

"Great." Before Vane and Boon Duc were inside the barracks, they heard Warhes yelling, "I'm going to go and skin all those Vietnamese monkeys." ”

"What's the point of doing that?" Someone ridiculed, "The Vietnamese who robbed us have long since run out, and the prisoners we caught are fools who have not grabbed anything, and you will not recover any losses if you kill them all." ”

"But at least it can make me happy."

"You're so low-minded, Jason." The man continued to scoff, "I'll not be happy until I can recover what I lost, or someone compensates me for my loss." ”

"So you're just daydreaming." Wachs sneered.

Vane paused and turned his face to Moon. "Do you think someone will compensate us for our losses?"

Wen Deji shook his head. "No, it won't."

"The authorities will not compensate you for your losses." "You can ask for it, and I can appeal for you, but the authorities will never compensate you for your losses." ”

"Lieutenant, I never expected anyone to compensate me for my losses, neither the company nor your superiors." Fruhauff gave him a disgusted look. In God's name, he had never raised the question at all, and it had been Dregion himself who had been repeating it over and over again—the careful-eyed Gallic Iron Rooster. The Commander shrugged his shoulders to himself, then looked away.

Vietnamese National Army soldiers were clearing the battlefield, some of the captured rebels were brought together - all of them were lucky enough to retreat in time because of their wounds, and those who surrendered voluntarily were killed - and others were moving and counting the bodies. There were also a few soldiers, who gathered around Nguyen Phuc Tho, busy washing off the blood stains on his body.

It's a miracle that Nguyen Phuc Tho is still alive. The commander had thought he would be killed, or blown up, or killed by the rebels who had been found to be fooled - but he didn't do anything but get covered in other people's blood, and vomited on the side of the road for nearly ten minutes while clutching a severed hand that he didn't know who it belonged to, and finally screamed and threw it out.

He was so lucky. Fruhauff thought jealously. Of course, his mercenaries were also lucky, although many were wounded, but none were killed...... If dying tired on the battlefield is not considered killed......

Uh, should that count?

"Remember to note this in the combat report to the commander," Fruhoff gestured to the communications officer beside him, "and I want to know clearly whether death due to exhaustion or other non-human causes in the course of the battle is considered a death in action." ”

"Understood, sir."

"Also, the fifty-three French servicemen killed by us, I would like to know how the commander is going to explain to the French."

"Understood, sir." The communications soldier jotted down his request in his notebook and asked, "Should I indicate in the battle report the number of rebels we killed and captured?" ”

"Of course." It's a matter of course. Is there anyone who doesn't report to their superiors about their achievements?

The Messenger nodded. "And what's the number?"

"What's the number?" Fruhaoff turned to look at the squad commanders, and together they looked at the National Army soldiers who were still counting their bodies and the large number of corpses on the ground. "I'm afraid we'll have to wait a while to find out." The commander sighed helplessly.

However, this is another discounted and incomplete description, and it took the Nationalist soldiers three hours to complete the inventory: nearly 4,000 bodies, including rebel soldiers, riot villagers and rebels, were recovered.

"We have two hundred and thirty prisoners left." Fruhauff calculated, "Added up is ......"

"Five thousand." D-Vigian intervened again - he always intervened at the critical moment, "We have eliminated five thousand rebels. ”

"Ah, five thousand." The commander looked directly at the lieutenant, and the gaze in his eyes clearly indicated a meaning, "Four thousand plus two hundred and three, equal to five thousand?" Have you studied math? ”

But this has nothing to do with mathematics, it is a matter of quality and morality.

"Listen, Commander, if you Yankees had a little more brains, or a little more rebels, I'd report that we had eliminated at least ten thousand rebels in battle." In fact, it was only his colleagues who prevented him from doing so - like Captain Martial. If he had reported the elimination of 10,000 rebels, these bad guys who were jealous of the heroes would have kept him from stepping down, and changing the number to five thousand would have been no such problem. At least he could have taken out four thousand corpses, as well as two hundred and thirty seriously wounded captives, and the few hundred corpses that were missing could be easily perfunctory.

And the lieutenant can proudly say, "I'm still honest, not greedy, just exaggerating the facts......"

But in any case, De Vigian finally found an opportunity to teach the Americans a lesson, and he did not let it go, and behaved not politely at all. "No officer with a normal mind will report his record upwards on the basis of actual figures. So, commander, we eliminated five thousand rebels, do you still have any questions? ”

Fruhauff did not deign to answer this question. He just said to the signal corps: "Just according to what the lieutenant said, five thousand." ”

The communications soldier was a little hesitant. "Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes, I'm sure." The commander glanced at the lieutenant and smiled, "Man, we can't let the lieutenant get a goofy with his boss. ”

"Destroy five thousand rebels." Qin Lang put away the telegram, leaned back in his chair, squinted his eyes and thought for a while, but it was more like he was wandering. Then, a few minutes later, he smiled again as usual.

O'Connor thought that he was about to express some novel opinion, and immediately sat up straight and prepared to listen carefully, but Qin Lang didn't say anything, nor did he intend to say anything, just kept smiling. O'Connor was confused. "What are you laughing at, Qin?"

"Nothing." Qin Lang shrugged.

"Really?"

"Of course." His smile really didn't have any purpose, except for the mercenary's upcoming mission and the new ones they were going to get. Now, it seems that it is time to start adjusting the company's troop deployment. To demonstrate to Her Majesty the Empress Dowager in Beijing, he would need to commit at least 5,000 mercenaries - of course, the final figure will be confirmed by both London and Washington, and only by them. But at all times, a little preparation can always bring unexpected benefits.

Qin Lang intended to deploy 8,000 mercenaries in Guangzhou Bay and the Vietnamese base, which meant that he would need to send two more brigades to the Far East, or......

"Qin," O'Connor said suddenly, "I have an idea. ”

"I'm listening."

"I have an idea for a new weapon." O'Connor smiled, as if to hide an embarrassment. After all, weapons development is not his area of responsibility, but he has been concerned about it for a while now, "The combat experience of our people in Strategic Village 13 reminds me of an old-fashioned weapon ......"

"Grenade, you mean." Qin Lang immediately thought of it.

"Yes." O'Connor nodded, "Why don't we develop a new type of grenade, smaller, more reliable, and more powerful, which can greatly improve the combat effectiveness of our soldiers, and I guarantee that it will have a large market." ”

"You're right, Sean." Qin Lang said, but after a pause, he said: "But there may be a little trouble now, you know that our propellants and explosives are all from DuPont, but I doubt that it has the ability to provide more explosives." ”

This was by no means a question that needed to be answered, he knew the answer, and O'Connor knew it - the answer was no, in fact, the explosives supply bottleneck had limited the production of mortar ammunition. Of course, there is a solution to this small trouble, but now is not the time to put it into practice. Union Carbide needs some time to expand production and sales of its existing products, recoup its investment as quickly as possible and prove to its two largest shareholders that it is worth anything other than disrupting the stock market, and that it is not yet able to produce explosives, not even poison gas.

So, the grenade, it's a weapon of great value, a weapon that front-line soldiers need, but the Big Viper Arms Company still can't produce it. The same is true of landmines.

"I'm sorry, Sean." Qin Lang spread out his hands, "But this world is like this." ”

"It's okay, Qin." O'Connor raised his right hand to indicate that he understood and understood. But from a personal point of view, he desperately wanted to put DuPont aside - anyway, due to the turmoil in the stock market that had just ended, and Union Carbide, there was already an obvious and irreparable rift between it and the big poisonous snake - of course, according to Qin Lang's usual attitude, "It's not now, the time is not yet ripe." ”

O'Connor sighed to himself. "Timing", what a damn thing.

Then he stood up and said goodbye to Qin Lang. "I have to leave, there's a bunch of things waiting for me."

"There are also many things waiting for me." Qin Lang smiled, "You know-"

Whatever O'Connor knew, it quickly became irrelevant, for before he could mention it, Elizabeth slammed open the office door and rushed in, shouting and cheering and dropping two magazines in front of him at the same time.

Qin Lang glanced at the cover of the magazine. Journal of the American Chemical Society and Science Journal. So...... Why she was so excited, and what she was going to say, everything became obvious.

"Our research has finally been published in an academic journal."

Very good...... Wait a minute. "We?"

"Yes, we do." She flipped through the Journal of the American Chemical Society and pointed to the author's signature, "Look at your name." ”

Qin Lang knew that his busyness had increased again. (To be continued, if you want to know what will happen next, please log in to the www.qidian.com, more chapters, support the author, support genuine reading!) (To be continued.) )