"We didn't recruit enough recruits, Mr. O'Connor. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 "Only two hundred and thirty Chinese workers have fully passed the test. ”

"I know, Mr. Claude." O'Connor looked at the list of qualified personnel in his hand, then picked up the list of qualified personnel and looked at it for a while, and then said, "We have to pick some good grades from the unqualified Chinese workers to fill the vacancy." ”

"Is this appropriate? I mean, boss—"

"I don't think it matters. Many people also gave Qin Hope's answer when answering questions, but they hesitated a little longer. This is not a fatal mistake. ”

Claude thought about it for a moment. O'Connor was right, a little longer hesitation was not a fatal mistake, and Qin Lang's questions, even if they were asked to be answered by active duty soldiers, many people would not be able to answer them correctly within thirty seconds. Why be so harsh of these ordinary people?

"I agree with you, sir." He said.

"So what are you waiting for? Get to work, Mr. Claude. ”

Zhang Biao walked restlessly back and forth in the barracks, sometimes stopping, pricking up his ears to listen to the movement outside the barracks, and then continuing to circle around. He had been waiting for someone to come in and announce to him the result he had hoped for, but the wait was so long that he could barely hold on.

Zhang Biao began to feel that he might be eliminated - the last two questions! His answer clearly did not satisfy Mr. Claude. But, he thought to himself, there was no one in this camp who could answer better than he; Most of the people in the camp were honest people like Wen Si, neither crazy nor cruel enough, and their answers would only be worse.

There's no reason why he's going to be eliminated unless...... Unless the boss doesn't want to recruit five hundred thugs at all.

Zhang Biao was frustrated by his new discovery—but only for a moment, and then returned to normal. Either way, he consoled himself that it was just an unfounded speculation and that there was still hope for things until the results were announced.

So he continued to wander around the barracks.

Fast forward for another ten minutes, and then, without warning, the door opened, and a mercenary with a piece of paper in his hand walked into the room. Zhang Biao immediately stopped, turned around, and most of them also stood up. Everyone looked at him expectantly.

The mercenary cleared his throat and announced in the most formal tone: "Whoever reads the name of me, immediately begin to pack up his belongings and assemble outside." ”

Then he began to read the list: "Zhang Biao......"

"Great!" Zhang Biao was so overjoyed that he almost screamed. It's finally time to leave this desolate and dry desert! Thank goodness for that.

With envy and jealousy in the eyes of the other Chinese workers whose names had not yet been pronounced, or who knew very well that their names would never be pronounced, he quickly ran back to his bed and began to pack his things—in fact, there was nothing to pack, and like all the Chinese workers in the camp, he had nothing but a few changes of clothes, two pairs of shoes, and a few silver dollars.

Loading these things into a small burden as quickly as possible, Zhang Biao arched his hand to the others to say goodbye, and then picked up the burden and walked out of the barracks; And while he did so, the mercenary was still reading the name. The Chinese workers whose names were read also quickly packed up their things, said goodbye to the others, and then walked out of the door one by one.

And the mercenaries also read the last winner. "Wen Four."

No one answered.

The mercenary looked at the list in his hand. That's right, the guy named "Wen Si" is indeed in this barracks. So he shouted again and raised his voice. "Wen Four."

Still no one answered.

"This one is called Wen Si, where is he?" There must be no problem with the list, so the mercenary could only look at the remaining Chinese workers in the barracks, "I know he lives in this barracks, but where has he gone now?" ”

"He ......" The Chinese workers looked at each other, as if no one knew where Wen Si had gone. Eventually, however, someone remembered his whereabouts. "He seems to be sleeping...... That's right, he slept as soon as he returned. ”

"Where's his bed?"

"The innermost." The Chinese worker who spoke pointed out the location with his hand. The mercenary immediately walked to the other end of the barracks, and the others looked at it in unison.

Wen Si was indeed there, lying on the bed and falling asleep. The physical fitness test arranged by Qin Lang exhausted him, and he didn't care about the final result, so he went to bed without any scruples when he returned to the barracks - yes, it wasn't just him, everyone didn't expect him to be selected.

The mercenary strode over to Wen Si's bed, and kicked him off the bed. "Get up, recruit!"

"Who kicked me......" At first, Wen Si didn't figure out the situation, but he quickly saw the mercenary's angry face, so he hurriedly straightened up. Mr. Gernhard, what's the matter? ”

"Pack your bags and gather outside!" Gernhard shouted.

"Why?"

"You've been selected, stupid!"

"What?" Wen Si was stunned. Was he selected? How can it be! Zhang Biao said......

But Gernhard's rant was all too real. "Yes, you've been selected! Now move fast, pack your bags and gather outside! ”

"Yes, I understand, Mr. Gernhard." Wen Si hurriedly took action, but his brain was still in chaos. He was selected for the ...... This is really unfortunate good news.

Either way, he was selected, one of the 500 Chinese thugs recruited by his boss, so he had to trek across the Mojave Desert to San Diego with the other selected ones for three months of recruit training — and only then, of course, would Wen Si, Zhang Biao, and others understand their real job.

That's definitely a lot worse than being a thug for someone.

At the very least, no boss would ask his thugs to use mortars...... And it was also a just-made, experimental mortar.

Duncan looked from a distance at the sixty-millimeter steel tube mounted on a circular base plate and supported by a bipod. He was not at all at ease with this new toy designed and manufactured by Qin Lang.

Qin Lang is a genius like Frankenstein and Captain Nemo, which everyone knows very well, but he has only designed pistols and rifles before, and they are fundamentally different from artillery: if the rifle explodes, only the user will suffer, but if the cannon explodes, the people nearby will also be unlucky.

"Qin, what if this 'mortar cannon' of yours explodes?" He asked worriedly.

"Hopefully the fragments of the explosion won't hit you." Qin Lang replied.

Duncan's tone suggests that he did not find the answer humorous. "It's not all too reassuring."

Qin Lang was too focused on his new weapon that was about to start testing, and didn't pay much attention to the anxious Duncan. He watched as several mercenaries who had served in the artillery unit did one last check of the mortars and shells, and then signaled that they were ready to fire.

With the exception of the gunner and the one he was holding, the other mercenaries retreated to safety with the remaining shells. Then this lucky unlucky bastard, who was said to have been produced by drawing lots, carefully put the cannonball he was holding into the muzzle of the cannon according to the posture that Qin Lang taught him.

Under the action of gravity, the shell fell towards the tail of the gun. A fixed firing pin was waiting for it there, and accurately fired the primer at the tail of the shell. At that moment, the primer ignited the propellant. So, propelled by the expanded gunpowder gases, the shells burst out of the muzzle and fell four hundred yards away.

It didn't explode.

"It didn't explode." Duncan shouted to Qin Lang in surprise.

"I see it, Duncan." Qin Lang frowned. This was not entirely due to the fact that the shells did not explode - it was apparently because the fuses were unreliable. Another problem that displeased him was that the range of the shells was too close. Four hundred yards, at such a distance, the rifleman could use the mortar as a target.

The only thing to be thankful for is that at least the shells were fired without exploding in the chambers.

"What to do with the shell that didn't explode?" Duncan continued.

Qin Lang didn't seem to hear his words. He grunted softly, half to himself. "It is necessary to make some improvements to the shape of the shells, as well as the fuse." He glanced over his head at Duncan. "Find a few people to destroy the shell that didn't explode. It's dangerous to leave it here. ”

"I agree with you very much, Qin, but why me?"

"Do you have any questions?"

"Nope." Duncan shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the mercenaries who were waiting for new orders, ready to convey Qin Lang's latest instructions to them. As for how to destroy a shell that didn't explode, these guys must have many ways.

Qin Lang stood where he was, seriously thinking about how to improve the mortar shell he had designed so that it could gain a maximum range of 1,500 to 2,000 yards.

How did Sir Wilfred Stokes solve this problem in 1915?

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Note: Wilfred Stokes, inventor of the mortar in the modern sense. (To be continued, if you want to know what will happen next, please log in to the WWW.CMFU.COM, more chapters, support the author, support genuine reading!) (To be continued.) )