The Rise Of A Billionaire 1943-Chapter 144 - 156: New Wool, New Heights

If you want a naval escort, there are basically two options: rely on the Allies, or rely on yourself.

Compared to the former, the now much more confident Pierre was more inclined to rely on himself.

But where could he get warships?

Maybe he could try something in the United States?

Would the Americans give him warships?

He really wasn’t sure. After all, the Americans were tight on ships themselves.

"Maybe I could try something with the Italians. Their fleet has been sitting idle for years anyway."

Hmm, apart from their submarines, which have always been active, most of the Italian Navy’s surface ships have bravely ’existed’—that is, existed in port.

But then, a sudden visit interrupted Pierre’s train of thought.

"Mr. Pierre, is there anything I can help you with?"

The reason Pierre said this was because the man before him was a notorious "collaborator"—the founder of France’s Southwest Aviation Manufacturing Company, whose firm produced over a thousand planes for Germany during the war.

Now, France was purging collaborators—any French person who cooperated with Germany during the war was being targeted.

If this man hadn’t held such a high position, he’d probably have been hanged by the underground resistance long ago.

What is France like now?

The whole nation is celebrating liberation—they’ve forgotten about surrendering, forgotten about working as laborers for the Germans, and all that’s left is a need to vent their resentment. In post-liberation France, "bloody purges" are everywhere. People are frantically searching, interrogating, detaining, abusing, and beating others—this is happening all over France.

Tens of thousands who collaborated with Germany have been beaten to death in the streets like stray dogs. Women who had relations with Germans have had their heads shaved in public, and many have even been stripped naked and paraded through the streets.

One must admit, French men may not be good at fighting, but...

He’s certainly an expert when it comes to bullying his own women. As for the authorities, they just turn a deaf ear and a blind eye, pretending nothing is happening.

However, some of these "collaborators" still need to be brought to court. Take this Mr. Pierre before us, for example—he should be put on trial. But since the French government has yet to be re-established, the courts naturally lack legitimacy. As a result, he hasn’t even been put in jail yet.

This is the most ridiculous part about France’s postwar reckoning—many of those being purged as "collaborators" are simply landlords who rented their properties to the Germans or merchants who sold goods to them. The real collaborators, meanwhile, are still at large, just waiting for the courts to investigate.

All I can say is—this is just so French.

"One million dollars!"

Pierre said it bluntly.

"Mr. Pierre, all you need is one million dollars, and you can buy my company. My company didn’t suffer much damage during the bombings..."

Looking at Mr. Pierre in front of him, Pierre was genuinely curious—how did this guy find him?

"Fiat Company!"

Pierre stated directly.

"I know you’re interested in manufacturing enterprises, Mr. Pierre. I can sell you my company for just one million dollars."

Why does Pierre want to sell his company?

Because he’s a collaborator, of course.

Not only does he have to face trial, but his business might also be nationalized. In fact, next year the French authorities will use wartime collaboration as an excuse to nationalize a large number of companies. As for the entrepreneurs themselves—some will be thrown in jail, others, seeing the writing on the wall, will flee in advance.

Pierre wants to run too!

But running away takes money!

He has money, but it’s all in francs, and all deposited in the bank—accounts that have long since been frozen.

Knowing his company was about to be confiscated, Pierre heard from Giovanni Agnelli of Fiat that someone in Italy was acquiring companies. After some effort, he managed to find out who the buyer was and came knocking in person.

"It’s too risky."

Pierre refused.

"France isn’t Italy. That million dollars could easily go down the drain. If the authorities don’t recognize the transaction, who’s going to cover my losses?"

Pierre hurriedly replied:

"That shouldn’t happen. France—France still has laws..."

"Go tell that to those farmers who had to dig their own graves before being executed. All they did was sell a few sausages to the Germans."

Staring at Pierre, Pierre couldn’t help but be a little impressed by the French logic. Farmers who sold sausages to the Germans are collaborators and can be killed like stray dogs, but capitalists who built planes for the Germans—well, they’re collaborators too, but they get to wait for a court trial.

"This, this..."

Even though it was freezing cold, sweat was pouring down Pierre’s forehead.

This was his last chance. If he couldn’t sell, he’d have to flee France with whatever family heirlooms he could carry.

Seeing Pierre at his wits’ end, Pierre’s lips curled up as he said:

"100,000 dollars."

"What! That’s robbery!"

"Mr. Pierre, when others come to rob you, they won’t even give you a single franc!"

With that casual remark, Pierre slumped into his chair like a deflated balloon. Seeing this, Pierre added:

"Two trucks. When you leave, I’ll send two trucks over to help you move."

Trucks!

Allied trucks!

At this, Pierre’s eyes lit up and he quickly said,

"100,000 dollars! Deal, at your price!"

Who doesn’t have a few collectibles at home? Originally, Pierre had planned to abandon these, but now, with the help of Allied trucks, he could at least take most of his valuables with him!

Those collectibles are worth money too!

Two days later, as Pierre’s family left the estate in American military trucks, Pierre arrived at the Southwest Aviation Manufacturing Company in Toulouse. Just as Pierre had said, the factory hadn’t suffered much damage during the war.

On one side of the airfield, a dozen or so massive six-engine transport planes were parked. Pierre asked,

"What kind of planes are those?"

The factory manager, Bercis, quickly replied,

"Mr. Pierre, those are the Me 323 transport planes we built for the Germans."

"Me 323 transport planes?"

Seeing Pierre’s surprise, Bercis explained,

"This is the largest transport aircraft used by the German military. It has six engines, a top speed of 285 km/h, and a maximum payload of 10 tons. Thanks to its large capacity and clamshell nose cargo doors, tanks and large-caliber artillery can be driven directly into the hold..."

Bercis’s introduction made Pierre’s eyes light up. They could even transport tanks—now that’s impressive! These planes would be perfect for shipping heavy weaponry back home.

With that in mind, Pierre asked,

"How many of these planes do we have? Are they airworthy?"

"Eighteen are nearly finished—just need the engines installed and they’ll be ready for test flights. There are another thirty-two under construction in the factory. Actually..."

Bercis hesitated for a moment, then said,

"The company was also working with Zeppelin on the ZSO523 ’Super Giant’—’ZSO’ comes from the initials of the two companies. Its wingspan is 70 meters, length 40.25 meters, fully loaded..."

The aircraft weighs over 50 tons and is planned to carry 35 tons of cargo. It is powered by six Gnome-Rhône 14R engines, each with 2,100 horsepower. At an altitude of 3,800 meters, its maximum speed is 340 km/h, and it has a range of 2,000 kilometers when cruising at 310 km/h. Before the German defeat and retreat, we had already completed a wooden model of the same size. If funding is available, we can finish building the prototype by June next year at the latest..."

Bercis looked at Pierre with great anticipation. Ever since France was liberated and the Germans withdrew, the factory had shut down, leaving thousands of workers unemployed for several months. Of course, what he really cared about was not the workers, but the management—unpaid leave was hard to bear.

After all, who isn’t struggling to put food on the table these days?

"Fully resuming production is out of the question. After all, the company has to consider profitability."

After thinking for a moment, Pierre said,

"We can start by rehiring some technical staff and key workers, and continue advancing the ’Super Giant’ project."

Is a 35-ton payload "Super Giant" actually useful?

Pierre wasn’t sure, but any technology that could be absorbed, must be absorbed. In the future, there would be no more Southwest Aircraft Manufacturing Company in France. Even if there were, it would be in Borneo.

When Pierre left Toulouse, he was sent off by hundreds of French technicians and skilled workers—not just because he had given them jobs, but also because the pay was exceptionally high: 50 kilograms of flour, 10 kilograms of sugar, 1 kilogram of coffee, and a pack of Camel cigarettes every month!

Such high pay was virtually unmatched in France at the time.

Although it was unclear how many years such high salaries could be sustained, when it comes to "fleecing the sheep," you take what you can, for as long as you can.

"Actually, there are still some opportunities here in France..."

Though he said this, Pierre didn’t plan to keep fleecing this particular sheep. After all, he wasn’t like Miki and the others—they had the backing of big financial groups like Morgan. Those American conglomerates would make General Dai think twice, but for him, that wasn’t necessarily the case.

But swallowing up a Southwest Aircraft Manufacturing Company was still feasible.

Fleecing sheep requires skill—if you fleece too much, trouble will come. Today you might fleece happily, but tomorrow you might be on someone’s blacklist.

Yes, you have to treat each sheep differently. Some you should stop fleecing after a bit, take what you can and leave. But some sheep, well, you can really go to town on them...