The steel monster burst into a piercing roar, clumsily rushing up the obstacle that stood in its way, slowly but surely climbing it, crushing it, and climbing over it. It was almost on the verge of success, very close, just a little short, but in the end, the "little" distance turned into an insurmountable chasm, and as always, the roar began to wane and quickly turned into a weak gasp, and then disappeared completely.

The monster came to a complete stop, and a group of ready, grim-faced technicians swarmed up and began to do their job: open every cover that could be opened, remove every dismantling part, and find out what the problem was.

Their movements are skillful and well coordinated, and they have obviously been repeated countless times.

A little farther away, the third man in the Umbrella group let out a heavy sigh and turned to a forty-year-old Army captain beside him—his old friend, John. Joseph." Blackjack Pershing - with a somewhat embarrassed expression. "Reluctantly, though, I must admit that this damn machine has a lot of flaws to be discovered and addressed."

"I'm confident that your technicians will be able to solve those problems." The captain laughed, "Actually, it performed better than I expected." ”

The embarrassment became more apparent. O'Connor wasn't sure if it was a consolation as a friend, or if he really thought so. "Are you serious, John?"

"I've seen armored cars that your company sells to the Russians, on the battlefield." Pershing means, "When encountering complex terrain like this, they must be bypassed, otherwise it is easy to break down, or get stuck in the terrain......"

He paused, as O'Connor's expression turned to surprise, which left him with a hint of confusion. "You don't agree with me?"

"No, what I care about is that you ran to the battlefield yourself?"

It's not much different from suicide. O'Connor thought. He was well aware of how dangerous the Far East could be, and that if nothing else, snipers on both sides of the warring were capable of catastrophic consequences with sniper rifles and training manuals sold by Umbrella: they would target anyone who looked like an officer, and at a distance of a few hundred yards or more, no one would be able to accurately identify the target, the enemy, or any other country's military observers, even if they wanted to.

But in reality, at least the vast majority of snipers don't do this, if not all. After a long battle, these soldiers are left with an instinctive reaction similar to a conditioned reflex: seek a target, aim, fire, look for the next target...... They will repeat these steps until the end of the battle, or become part of an ever-growing list of the dead.

Rushing into their sight is never something to be encouraged or appreciated.

And Umbrella sold thousands of sniper rifles and more training manuals to the Russians and Japanese, and while the exact number of snipers who completed their training and were thrown into battle is unknown, it's safe to assume that the odds of being targeted by these guys are not small.

Although none of the military observers of any Western country has really suffered misfortune......

O'Connor suddenly realized that his scruples did not make any sense: it was too late, the war was over, Pershing was alive and had returned to the United States, and there was no need to continue to worry about Russian and Japanese snipers. But it was also inevitable - before today, he had absolutely no idea what the old friend was doing in the Far East.

"You should have told me about this sooner." He said, half complaining, half reproachful, "And I'm skeptical, does Washington allow you to take such risks?" ”

Pershing responded with a disapproving attitude toward Washington. "Like you, the army forbade me to go to the war zone, but it didn't work, I wouldn't be stupid to stay in Tokyo and wait for the Japanese war report, it's all rubbish and worthless."

"I know, but ...... Well, let's forget about it. O'Connor shook his head, shoeing the rest of the words out of his head. Regardless, Pershing was still alive, so he could put aside the headache he was giving and focus on something else.

An aspect that someone like him should care about.

He recalls the products that Umbrella sells to Russians. "You don't seem to like armored cars?"

He guessed it right, Pershing didn't like it.

The captain of the army considered it a weapon with obvious flaws. "This product of yours cannot be adapted to complex terrain, and can only be used in a very small number of specific battlefield environments, if I were to pick a unit to attack enemy positions through thirty miles of rugged terrain, I would choose cavalry."

O'Connor was quite familiar with his assessments: Qin Lang said so, and the reports submitted by the mercenaries sent to the Russian army also contained similar or identical content in the whole paragraph. Although he couldn't fully agree with them, he knew that there was some truth to them.

"That's true, a few sabers can at least do a little bit of service compared to a pile of scrap metal rotting on the road." He said self-deprecatingly.

Now, it was Pershing's turn to be surprised: that was not like what an arms dealer who made and sold armored cars should say.

"What do you think I should say?" O'Connor laughed, "Honestly, John, you're not an Umbrella customer, and I don't need to tell you a bunch of business nonsense." ”

Pershing's beard cocked. "Really? I thought you invited me to visit this secret base just to sell your products. ”

"If you really have this kind of thought, it's also Qin Lang's, not mine." O'Connor shrugged.

He did not shirk his responsibilities...... There is no complete shirking of responsibility. Inviting Pershing to visit Area 51 was indeed an activity approved by Qin Lang personally, he just made a suggestion, which was limited to a part of the base, he didn't expect Qin Lang to agree to open the entire base, and only because he heard Pershing's name.

A strange, seemingly ill-thought-out decision.

Of course, O'Connor was accustomed to this: Qin Lang always knew the mysterious and unspeakable inside information that no one else knew, and then made some strange and seemingly ill-conceived decisions, only to prove how far-sighted he was in the end. And he knew that Qin Lang valued his old friend very much, and he had a high opinion of him, and even thought that he could become a general.

Able, not chanced. Qin Lang firmly believed in his inference, and was even willing to bet on it.

O'Connor did not accept the offer, but thought he should accept it. Qin Lang's self-confidence seemed to be leading him to a desired outcome: for the first time in many years, his prediction had not come true.

In the Army, it was very difficult for an officer with no background like Pershing to get promoted, and even Roosevelt could not do it: not long ago, His Excellency the President proposed to the Army General Staff that Pershing be promoted to colonel, only to be rejected by the Army General Staff, claiming that Pershing was not qualified enough to be promoted, and therefore would not consider any similar offer, whether colonel, lieutenant colonel, or even just a major.

Even if Qin Lang was ready to do something, he couldn't have done better than Roosevelt.

Nor could he have done better than Roosevelt, otherwise God knows what His Excellency would have thought - Teddy Sr. had changed so much so unexpectedly since he became president that it was hard to guess what he thought.

So this thing will become a big trouble, and maybe a disaster.

He should make a bet with Qin Lang.

O'Connor sighed for a moment, then told Pershing, "Actually, Qin Lang wants to know what you think of this weapon we are developing. ”

"Why me?" Pershing was confused—he hadn't even met Qin Lang. Why does this magical Mr. Qin care about his opinion?

"Don't look at me," O'Connor continued to clear himself, "I'm as curious about this question as you are......"

His words behind him were drowned out by the roar of the engine. He and Pershing turned to the steel monster, the technician had finished his job and stepped aside, it started again, slowly but surely, and continued to move forward......

Then under everyone's gaze, it went out again.

O'Connor felt that his expression must be very funny at this moment, because Pershing's expression was very funny, and although he wanted to laugh, he tried to disguise that he had no emotional fluctuations. But he pointed to the steel monster that was once again surrounded by angry technicians, and asked, "So, what do you think of it?" ”

"I don't think it's time to make an assessment. It's just a ......" Pershing took a moment to find the word that was needed," ...... Semi-finished products. ”

However, "half-finished" is still an exaggerated claim. To be precise, the monster was just a rudimentary tracked chassis made of ordinary steel plates only a few millimeters thick, and it took a group of young technicians who had just entered the Umbrella about a month to design and build it, most of the parts came from a few Caterpillar bulldozers that were close to scrapping, with no weapons, no armor, not even a suspension system, and perhaps only a Ford V8 engine, which always broke down, but at least was new.

It can only be considered an experimental platform...... Maybe it's not even an experimental platform, neither the kind of weapon Qin Lang envisioned, nor the trick he used to lure the Russians into taking the bait and share the development costs.

O'Connor didn't know what it could be used for.

If he were left to decide, he would hide this damn machine, or dig a pit and bury it, and it would certainly not be used for some hellish display of mobility. But this is Qin Lang's proposal.

It's just terrible.